Yesterday I read a short story by Philip K Dick. It’s
called “The Martian Anal Division”, and it’s about a parallel version of our
world in which everything is run by and for the benefit of small but cunning
Martian invaders.
They live in tiny spaceships which they insert into
their subjects anal passages. From deep within human anuses they emit their
instructions, which their followers hear as a voice in their anus telling them
what to do. These people are known as the Martian Anal Division (MAD). One of the key symptoms of people who are
controlled by Martians up their arses is that they not only want to do what the
Martians tell them to, but that they also want to force everyone else to do it
as well. They often revert to the phrase “for the greater good”, and want to
bring in “laws” in the hope that they can force other people to “conform” to
the wishes of the voices in their arses.
In an attempt to get a better handle on controlling
the non-MAD population, they introduce social engineering such as water fluoridation
(make the population sick and obedient), vaccinations (make them sick and
infertile), fear of “terrorism” (submit to more laws and surveillance), fear of
various “global apocalypses” (submit to more restrictions and taxes), and wars
(the ultimate control system)
They also direct everyone with an anal implant to
watch more TV, where they can obsess over misinformation called “news”, listen
to angry black men making guttural rhyming noises about hoes, yos, and bros, become
jealous over the size of the breast implants of women who sing the things that
the voices in their arses are saying, and watch stocky men in tight shorts battling
each other over leather balls.
Luckily, for all their cunning, the Martians have
some serious flaws in their evil plan. When they insert their micro spacecraft
into their victim’s anal passages, it tends to block their elimination of waste
matter. So their victims slowly fill up with shit.
Already pressurized to bursting point, when they
are confronted by people who refuse to conform, they start to turn purple and
run around in circles making squawking noises like a chicken having an
epileptic fit. Sometimes the backed up gasses start to escape from their arse
like a loud rumbling fart, while sometimes they just blow up like an American
false flag terrorists bomb.
Maybe Philip K Dick created parallel realties that
bore no likeness to the world we live in.
