It was triumph, it was tragedy. In his all-too-short life, our friend Joseph overcame all of the odds and rose above the crushing authority of the Ugandan government to become one of the most successful war criminals our world has ever seen. What he accomplished was unparalled by any of us, and I feel as if it is safe to say that we all share nothing but respect for the man that he was. Uganda has lost not only a great leader, but also a great human being. Without a doubt, our good pal Joey was truly a fine example of what a human being can achieve. And in his short time on this little green ball that we call Earth, he truly gave the human race an example of how hard work and perseverance can pay off. He has left behind an amazing legacy that will never be forgotten and left us with the pride and honor of knowing that that amazing man once called us his friends.
Since the very moment he was born, Joseph never shied away from a challenge. Even in his youth, when challenged by a rival at school or even his own siblings, he was never hesitant to resort to violence to solve his problems. He knew what had to be done and he had the willpower to do it. Throughout his life, Joseph has faced problems head-on, staring his adversaries full in the face and asking them “What Uganda do about it?”. Joseph’s hard working, stick-it-to-the-man attitude has pushed him to achieve great things in this worldly realm, and he would want us to remember him as being someone who would take on his foes, no matter what the consequences, and destroy them like he destroyed the lives of innocent children.
If there is one thing that I want you to take away from this funeral, it is that the willpower of Joseph Kony will live on. Joseph went down fighting, and his death would be in vain if we did not continue to combat Jason Russle and his army of hipsters. Even from the grave, our friend Joe’s words will live on. We must not allow the hands of our thick-glassed, skinny jean-wearing foes to grasp around the throat of our terrorist empire. We must push back with our child army, defending the land that has been rightfully ours for generations! We will no longer allow having Jason Russle our jimmies! We will defend the one thing that our tree-hugging, paper-recycling friends want to take from us: Our oil assets! Joseph’s death should be viewed as a call to action to prevent future tragedy! They can take our leader, but they will never take our spirit! Joseph Kony will live on!
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Sunday, October 14, 2012
The Adventures of Joseph Kony
Guns blazing around me in a fiery flare, I dove beneath the dense jungle underbrush. Underneath this cover, I peered out at my assailant, an army of internet hipsters. They had come for me. Under the direction of Jason Russell, an “army for peace” had come to end my life. Crawling along on my hands and knees, I pulled myself through the Ugandan forest floor toward my bunker. I had to get back to safety. My army of children awaited orders, and they were the only thing that would stand between me and the brink of death. Summoning the last few ounces of my strength, I dug my elbows into the earth and pushed my exhausted body forward. I had been running for so long, and if only I could last longer, I would be safe… Just a few more meters.
I awoke with one of my child medics standing above me. It was not he who had roused me, it had been the sound of explosions from outside. I bolted up into action, to the objection of my caretaker, but I had business to attend to. The Army for Peace was, almost literally, on top of my bunker, and it was only a matter of time before they had breached the exterior and infiltrated my sanctuary. I grabbed a spare weapon off of the table beside me, reloaded the ammunition, and, fighting a limp, made my way up the stairs towards the commotion. As I hobbled over the top of the staircase, I came face to face with the bunker door. Or what would have been left of it if it was still intact. But I was too late. Instead of the hulking metallic frame of the bunker, I was left staring into the cold face of Jason Russell himself.
“Kony” Russell croaked. Behind him I saw a group of armed men, all wearing thick glasses and Bob Marley t-shirts, their guns strung over their shoulders by biodegradable slings made of 100% recycled material. Russel spoke to me again, but I was partially deafened by the previous blows and I couldn't make out what he had said. Instead, I acted. With one painstaking movement, I swung my weapon and made contact with his ugly face. Within seconds, bullets rained down into my chest, penetrating my skin and unleashing a moist warmth beneath my shirt. Yet I fought on. I charged through the lines of hipster ranks, the scent of Axe body spray flooding my nose. But onward I pushed, until I had reached Jason Russell’s personal iPad and stash of various Apple products blasting “I Can’t Stop”. Behind me came a cry of “That’s the bad guy from Star Wars!”, but I knew what I had to do. With a squeeze of the trigger, I let a bullet fly straight through the iPad, the source of the hipster’s power. “Kra-kow!” came the resounding noise throughout the Ugandan forest. With their source of power destroyed, the hipsters stood around helplessly and without command. I had crushed their beloved Apple products and stopped the Army for Peace once and for all. I could now rest in serenity, knowing that the affairs of me and my underage armada would never be interfered with again.
I awoke with one of my child medics standing above me. It was not he who had roused me, it had been the sound of explosions from outside. I bolted up into action, to the objection of my caretaker, but I had business to attend to. The Army for Peace was, almost literally, on top of my bunker, and it was only a matter of time before they had breached the exterior and infiltrated my sanctuary. I grabbed a spare weapon off of the table beside me, reloaded the ammunition, and, fighting a limp, made my way up the stairs towards the commotion. As I hobbled over the top of the staircase, I came face to face with the bunker door. Or what would have been left of it if it was still intact. But I was too late. Instead of the hulking metallic frame of the bunker, I was left staring into the cold face of Jason Russell himself.
“Kony” Russell croaked. Behind him I saw a group of armed men, all wearing thick glasses and Bob Marley t-shirts, their guns strung over their shoulders by biodegradable slings made of 100% recycled material. Russel spoke to me again, but I was partially deafened by the previous blows and I couldn't make out what he had said. Instead, I acted. With one painstaking movement, I swung my weapon and made contact with his ugly face. Within seconds, bullets rained down into my chest, penetrating my skin and unleashing a moist warmth beneath my shirt. Yet I fought on. I charged through the lines of hipster ranks, the scent of Axe body spray flooding my nose. But onward I pushed, until I had reached Jason Russell’s personal iPad and stash of various Apple products blasting “I Can’t Stop”. Behind me came a cry of “That’s the bad guy from Star Wars!”, but I knew what I had to do. With a squeeze of the trigger, I let a bullet fly straight through the iPad, the source of the hipster’s power. “Kra-kow!” came the resounding noise throughout the Ugandan forest. With their source of power destroyed, the hipsters stood around helplessly and without command. I had crushed their beloved Apple products and stopped the Army for Peace once and for all. I could now rest in serenity, knowing that the affairs of me and my underage armada would never be interfered with again.
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