Why don't the brainiacs of the world get it? America and the world are being held hostage by those unhappy little boys who are eager for The Rapture. No difference really between the Jesus Boys and the Taliban Boys. Enraged, impotent, indequate-feeling boys will be boys. The Jesus boys have merely given their (hard A) Arab brethren an opportunity to come out of the closet. If the boys can't run things, then there shouldn't be things to run.
There's a old fable: Women used to run things. One day long ago, the women who used to run things were walking together in the desert when a bunch of boys ran up to them and demanded the secrets and the power to run things. The women confabbed for a moment and decided to give the boys what they wanted. The boys ran off happy and excited because now they had the secrets and the power to run things.
"Oh let them have the secrets and the power to run things," the women laughed. "We certainly know how badly they'll do. Eventually they'll be back begging us to fix the world they've made such a mess of. Now, where shall we have lunch?"
But the boys never came back. They just kept making an even bigger mess until the women became worried. If only the boys would cry uncle or mama and return the secrets and the power to run things back to the women before it's too late. How will the women be able to fix worldwide nuclear contamination with a half life of a gazillion years once the boys finally give up? The once uneven playing field between the Jesus boys with toys and the Allah boys with oil has been leveled since Nukes R Us opened for business. And now, the women worried, our lovely planet may be leveled. We like it here. For us, The Rapture can wait.
Meanwhile, the more the men mess things up, the more they need to blame and torture the women who used to run things. The guilty-feeling boys are concerned that the women are clucking and laughing at them behind their apple martinis and burkas. So the boys reason: If a guy can't be a loving leader, teacher, husband and father, he can at least be a good rapist, pillager and temple-throbbing right winger. "Sorry kids, we have to cancel the picnic by the lake I promised you. The queers and the lesbos are getting too comfortable and Daddy has to make phone calls." You know the drill: If you can't get yours up, chop off everyone else's so no one can.
But once the raping, pillaging, invading, occupying, torturing, marginalizing and greed lose their edge, what's left? To paraphrase Miss Peggy Lee, are we ready for that final disappointment: Nukes. Here a nuke. There a nuke. Everywhere a nuke, nuke. Nukes in the mornin'. Nukes in the evenin'.
And then what? Rapture Time in the ol' South. And everywhere else of course. Film at 11.