O George!
You, who are vox Dei, hear now a litany for the children…
…yes, children, Jesus loves you as long as you keep your test scores up, but don’t worry if you don’t for you shall be allowed to fall gracefully between the cracks and join the legions of lost children so you may grow up to become part of America’s military machine where you will find glory as you spill your viscera on the barren desert sands or in dank depth of the verdant jungle, or journey the underbelly of our prosperity cleaning up after us, bowing and scraping and smiling for the quarter tip or the nod of approval, dying the slow death of the lost…
unless…
…you are children of the privileged and will never bear arms because you have better things to do with your life such as passing your entrance exam for nursery school so you may grow up part of the technocrati who send the lost children to their glory death, who issue mop and bucket, the cashier’s smock…
…as the vox Dei cries out…
…suffer the little children unto me…
…suffer them to me with with bellies distended by malnutrition; suffer them to fry their brains with the lead-based paint they fleck from the rotting sills of their tenements; suffer them to sit in their huts watching their mothers die of AIDs.; suffer them to shatter limb and body with shell and land mine; suffer them to wander the land homeless and unwanted; suffer them to grow stunted and angry and afraid.
Vox Dei, we pray that the great reaper that is America will leave no child behind in its wake.
Your admirer,
Belacqua Jones
9:02:22 PM 
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