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May 22, 2006

Fake Vet Removes Fake "Awards" From Military.com

...after "Internet political partisans" noted they were unlikely or impossible.

As everyone's chimed in on what proper decorations might consist of, expect him to add a more plausible list shortly.

Allah has screencaps of the old awards for Jessie MacBeth, and predicted he might be removing them from view shortly. He seems to have called it.

I haven't been following this closely at all, but Allah thinks his claim to have been a Ranger is now thorougly discredited -- perhaps by silent admission, given his removal of Ranger badges from his profile. Now the question is whether he was in the Army at all.

Some have doubts, but I figure this will be a little like the Micah Wright scenario -- yes, there will be some brief term in the Army, but no combat, etc.

Why people think they can get away with this is beyond me. They are, I'm pretty sure, fundamentally insane. Not floridly insane like a full-blown schizophrenic, but badly damaged, just (barely) able to get through life outside of a group home. No truly sane person can expect to get away with confabulating this sort of crap.

Apparently even the DUmmies -- fellow borderline schizophrenics as well -- are beginning to grasp that they've been had again.

Jessie MacBeth felt as though his world were closing in around him. My world is closing in around me, he thought to hiimself.

He looked in the mirror, and beheld a man once described by Boston Magazine as one of "The Most Intriguing Fake Military Heroes In New England." His chocloate-brown hair was going slightly gray at the temples -- all of his anti-warwhore admirers told him it made him look "distinguished," but he thought it just make him look like Brad Pitt, but with slightly graying hair.

When they make a movie about me, Brad Pitt should play me, he grinned to himself, just in case a studio reader doing "coverage" on the story had missed it the first time around.

Suddenly the telephone rang. The female voice was sweetly whining and quavering, like a cat being slowly torn apart by two semi-trailers, like in The Hitcher, only with cats. "You are in great danger, Mr. MacBeth. They are on to you. They mean to expose you."

"Who is this?!?!" MacBeth grinned. Actually, grinning really isn't the appropriate facial expression for that statement, but he tended to grin 90% of his lines, and he didn't want to go rusty from lack of practice.

"I do not want to say my name," the woman said. "I will simply give you a diabolically clever anagram. My name," the mystery woman breathed, "is Sindy Cheehan."

"Cindy Sheehan?!?" Jessie grinned in shock.

"God- DAMN - it!!!" the woman calling herself "Sindy Cheeehan" exclaimed with a grin. "Why does everyone guess that right away? Anyway-- you must remove your website immediately. You must become invisible. They are on your trail."

There was a click as Cindy Sheehan, great-great-great-great-etc.-grandaughter of Jesus Christ Himself, hung up the phone. But Jessie MacBeth spoke into the phone anyway, saying "Hello? Miss Cheehan? Hello? Hello?" He did this, because that's what people always do in bad movies and books, even when they're obviously just talking to a dialtone.

Who can help me? Who was kinda-sorta in the military and knows what Dark Forces I face?, Jessie grinned.

He immediately dialed information. "Operator? Yes, Texas state information, please. No, I'm not sure of the town. I need the number for... Bill Burkett. Yes, that's right. The guy who gave Dan Rather the 'Bush TANG' documents."

One moment sir, the operator grinned to herself. And then she said, "One moment sir," with a grin.

Jessie was only slightly surprised the local exchange was 555.

He dialed the number. But he was worried. They 'got' Burkett, he grinned to himself. They prevented those explosive documents from every really exploding. How can I be sure they won't do the same to me?

Meanwhile, in Caracas, Venezuela, a Catholic priest gave a blessing at a wedding and actually managed to restrain himself from murdering anybody at all. Gotta pace myself, he grinned, as he played with his Rosary beads, hidden inside which was a razor-sharp steel-wire garotte. The lethal ligature was designed by Leondaro Da Vinci's less-talented, more violently-tempered brother, Migelo "Mad Dog" Da Vinci.


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posted by Ace at 09:42 PM

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