"LAP Dogs of the Apocalypse"

Copyright (C) 1993, 2000 by Michael J Paluka (Xebot)

Los Angeles. I was still in Los Angeles. When I was in the jungle, I wanted to be here. Now that I'm here, I can't stop thinking of there. When I'm right, I want to be left. Every minute that Charley squats in the jungle, he gets stronger - while I'm turning into Bill Clinton.

I wanted a mission and, for my sins, they gave me one; and what a mission it was. Afterwards, I wished that they had just raised my taxes.

We were no longer called "Police," the word was considered too threatening by the PolCats, the Political Correctness Attorneys. We were now called 'LAPs', Legal Adherence Professionals.

My name is Sergeant Rollover. I was assigned to PEU, the PolCo Enforcement Unit. PolCo was the common name for a series of laws designed to mandate political correctness. I was what used to be called a "censor."

I was ordered to report to Captain Clapp, a shadowy figure from the Special Investigations Unit. He was seated at a table with two associates. I mentally nick-named them Mutt and Jeff. Captain Clapp offered me a hamburger.

He said, "If you'll eat this Jack-In-The-Box hamburger, you'll never have to prove your courage to me in any other way."

Mutt stated, "Sgt. Rollover, I understand that you have had extensive under-cover work for PEU."

I answered, "I am not presently at liberty to describe any activities that may or may not have happened while I was or was not working working at PEU, or not."

Captain Clapp smiled. "I see that you're a student of Bill Clinton."

"Yes, sir. I voted for his wife, twice."

Mutt continued, "Let me summarize your career -- don't bother to deny it. You got the movie 'Black Beauty' retitled 'Afro-American Beauty.' You got the play 'Merchant of Venice' re-written to change the villain's name from Shylock to Bill Gates. You personally re-edited the movie 'Casablanca' and changed the last line to read, 'Louie, I think that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship ... kiss me.'"

Captain Clapp asked, "Have you ever heard of Professor Butz? He was once a brilliant scholar; but, like all method actors, has gone completely insane. Let me play for you an excerpt from his last lecture."

He clicked-on the tape recorder. I heard the voice of Butz saying, "I dreamt I was a snail crawling upon the edge of a razor blade ... and survived."

I responded, "Obviously, he's quite insane. Snails are an endangered species."

The Captain said angrily, "Yes; damn Frenchmen. Anyway, we want you to terminate the Professor's tenure."

I headed up North with a Navy crew. "Chef" came from New Orleans. He was wrapped too tight for LA; probably wrapped too tight for Fresno. "Cuz" was an Afro-American who played the roll of the kid who gets the tears, pathos ála bathos. The last member was "Chief." It may have been my mission, but sure-as-shit, it was the Chief's tricycle.

We were air-lifted into UCLA. The entire campas was ablaze. Colonel Hornpucker was saying, "I love the smell of napalm in the morning; it smells like . . . the sixties!"

We headed to the administration building, where Professor Butz was holed up.

I grabbed a student and asked, "Who's in charge, here?"

She said, "Me! I'm Gloria Alred, the head of LAMB, Lesbians Against Male Bastards!"

I didn't have time for political debate, so I shot her. My job as censor allows me great lattitude on both sides of the political spectrum. It's GOOD TO BE THE CENSOR!

I entered the administration building, and was met by a whining Dennis Hopper. I said, "Don't be such a wimp", and slapped him upside the head with one of his own cameras -- to the applause of all.

When I finally met Professor Butz, I was surprised. He was completely bald, and rather rotund. I could not connect this face with the tape recording that I had heard, until he screamed: "STELLA!!!"

He asked calmly, "Are you an assassin? What do you call it when the assassins send an assassin?"

"The IRS?"

He responded, "Then you've heard of Willie Nelson."

"Yes", I replied. "We had to change the name of his song, 'Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain', to 'White Oppressors Crying in Shame'."

"The horror, the horror. Do you know what true freedom is?"

I hazarded a guess, "Cheating on the honor system?"

"No," said the Professor, "let me tell you a story. Back in the sixties, I was working for the Government. We created programs to train the poor. By the seventies, there was a noticeable decrease in racism, which sent SHOCK WAVES throughout the corridors of power in the Government; no racism, no guaranteed minority votes for Democrats! The new plan was to create a vast program of handouts in order to generate a backlash from white, Middle America - thus forcing minorities back into line. They want me dead because my programs have shown that even the most disadvantaged kid can succeed based upon his or her own God-given talents -- without the humiliating and addictive handouts of the Government!"

I was dumbfounded. Nonetheless, the jungle wanted him dead. Even the Harvard faculty wanted him dead. There was no place in a politically correct society for anyone who believed that minorities could succeed without the handouts from a guilty, patronizing, white middle-class. It seemed wholly racist, as if I were listening to very voice of Hitler, but with cotton balls in his mouth.

But, I couldn't kill him. I was soon fired by LAP.

Professor Butz was killed by Charles Manson. Manson had been recently released from prison when it was discovered that his biological father was a Cuban.