by the---as the A.F.R. characterize it---same American-dominated Organization of North American Nations which forced ecologically distorted and possibly mutagenic territory into their---the nation of Canada, and most specifically and intensively the province of Quebec---aegis in the newly subsidized Year of the Whopper …’ — Struck, canted slightly in his desk-chair from the overdevelopment of his body’s right side, is also trying to carve up each of this diarrheatic G. T. Day, M.S. guy’s clauses into less-long self-contained sentences that sound more earnest and pubescent, like somebody earnestly struggling toward truth instead of flecking your forehead with spittle as he ranted grandiosely — ‘… the Wheelchair Assassins at these all too publicly familiar assassinations materializing, quote “as if from nowhere” unquote, masters of stealth, striking terror into prominent, Canadian hearts, affording no warning excepting the ominous squeak of slow wheels, striking swiftly and without warning, assassinating prominent Canadians and then dissolving back into the dark night’ — as opposed to a light night? Struck forces sudden air through his full nose, producing a low and horn-like derisive sound — ‘striking always at night, a type of performative signature, to strike at night only, leaving behind only sinuous networks of thin, double tracks in snow, dew, leaves, or earth, as performative signatures, such that a double sinuous 5 shaped line across the traditional fleur-de-lis motif of Quebecois Separatism is the A.F.R. cell’s standard, its escutcheon or “symbol,” if you will, in their infrequent and always hostile communiques to the administrations of Canada and O.N.A.N. Such that, quote, “To hear the squeak,” unquote, is now an understood euphemismic locution among officials highly placed in Quebecois, Canadian, and O.N.A.N.ite power structures for instant, terrifying, and violent death. And for the media, as well. As in, quote, “Before many thousands of shocked subscribers, newly elected Bloc Quebecois leader Gilles Duceppe and an aide, guarded by no fewer than a dozen units of the Domestic Detail’s elite mounted Cuirassiers, nevertheless heard the squeak last night during a spontaneously disseminated address at the lakeside resort of Pointe Clare.”*
Struck, clutching his head with one hand, is trying to find euphemismic in the TP’s Lex-Base.
‘… Affiliations, sometimes purported, between the Root Cult core of Les Assassins on one hand and the more extreme and violently subversive of Quebec’s Séparatisteur
organizations---the Fronte de la Liberation de la Quebec, the Fils de Montcalm, the ultra right anti-Reconfigurative vishnu of the Bloc Quebecois---tend, however, to be contradicted by both stated agendas---the conventional Separatist phalances demanding only the independent secession of provincial Quebec and the elimination of Anglo-American cognates from public discourse, while the A.RR.s’ stated aims being nothing less total than the total return of all Reconfigured territories to American administration, the cessation of all E.W.D. airborne waste displacement and ATHSCME rotary air mass displacement activity within 175 kilometers of Canadian soil, the removal of all fission/ waste/fusion annulars north of the 42°-N. Parallel, and the secession of Canada in toto
from the Organization of North American Nations---and by the fact that all too many
prominent figures in the recent sociohistory of the Separatist movement---for e.g., Schnede, Charest, Remillard, both Sr. and Jr. Bouchards---have, in the last 24 months---particularly, in the violent and bloody autumn of the Year of the Trial-Size Dove Bar---”heard the squeak.” ‘
Struck’s little TP’s internal Lex files confirm vishnu, at least. Plus there’s a kind of almost savage edge to the article’s incoherence that Struck’s getting almost to like, a little: he keeps imagining the little hyphen of wrinkle Poutrincourt gets between her eyebrows when she doesn’t follow something and can’t quite tell if it’s your English’s fault or her English’s fault. ‘Prior to Y.P.W.c.’s Freedom of Speculation Act, credible sociohistorical data on the origins and evolution of Les Assassins des Fauteuils Rollents from obscure, adolescent, nihilistic Root Cult to one of the most feared cells in the annals of Canadian extremism was regrettably patchy and dependent on the hearsay of sources whose scholarly veracity was of an integrity somewhat less than unimpeachable.’ Struck here pictures Thierry Poutrincourt, who tends to get that little annoyed-confusion wrinkle sometimes even with the lucidest of term papers, lowering her tall head and charging into a wall. One sinus feels noticeably bigger than the other sinus, and there’s something not quite right with his neck from sitting hunched all this time, and he’d kill relatives for a quick DuBois.
‘Les Assassins des Fauteuils Rollents of Quebec are essentially cultists, locating both their political raison d’etre and their philosophical dasein within the North American sociohistorical interval of intensive special interest diffraction that preceded---nay, one might daresay stood in integral causal relation with respect to---the nearly simultaneous inaugurations of O.N.A.N.ite governance, continental Interdependence, and the commercial subsidization of a lunar O.N.A.N. calendar. Like most Canadian cult extensions, however, the Wheelchair Assassins and their cultic derivations have proven substantially more fanatical, less benign, less reasonable, and substantially more malignant---in sum, more difficult for responsible authorities to anticipate, control, 4 CBC/PATHÉ 1200h.-0000h. Summary Cartridge * 911-24-04, 4 May Y.P.Wc., © Y.P. We., PATHÉ Nouvelle Toujours, Ltd. interdict, or reason with than even the most passionate U.S. kabals. This scholarly essay concurs in many essential respects with the thesis that Canadian and other non American Root Cults, in contrast to all but what Phelps and Phelps argue are isolated pockets of antihistorical American stelliformism, persist so queerly in directing their reverent fealty toward principles, quote, “often not only isomorphic with but activally opposed to the cultists’ own individual pleasure, comfort, cut bono, or entertainment as to be all but outside the ken of both the sophisticated predictive models of psychosocial science and the rudimentary comprehension of human reason.”5’
This all takes serious labor for Struck to decoct the gist out of and then recast in rather less uptown and more basic studential prose. Twice in the hall outside his and Shaw’s and Pemberton’s room, Rader and Wagenknecht and some other 16’s-sounding males go down the hall, all of them together going ‘Er, ah, ee, oo, ah, er, ah, ee …,’ and so on. ‘It is an accepted fact that Les Assassins’ Root Cult, in a fashion typical of those whose objects are divorced from the rational advancement of individual interest, takes, for its rites and personality, rituals intimately bound up with “Les jeux pour-memes” formal competitive games whose end is less any sort of “prize” than it is a manner of basic identity: i.e., that is, “game” as metaphysical environment and psychohistorical locus and geatalt.’ Struck’s own historical dad, during Jim’s own childhood in Rancho Mirage, was an inveterate red-wine-with-heavy-tranqs-on-the-side drinker, who used to make late-night phone calls to people he didn’t know very well and make statements he later had to retract at great length, until finally one autumn night the Dad had staggered out and attempted a one-and-a-half tuck into the Struck family’s backyard pool that he hadn’t recalled had been drained, resulting in a neck brace for life that ended his career as a low-80s golfer, resulting in incredible bitterness and family trauma, before little J.A.L.S. Jr. was shipped off to the Rolling Hills Academy.