Fantastic Voyage II : The search for Biden's brain
At Pravda every single cell of that organism was wholly on board with the official cover story. Complete uniformity in messaging; there simply is no other story. The key is in presenting the story with a calm affect. With the right lighting and camera filters it is almost possible to make it all look so sincere. For the one-hundred-thousand or so people who are actually still tuned in to Pravda, the official story is that for a brief time this past Friday Presidential authority was temporarily ceded to the Vice President. The reason given was that resident Biden would be placed under general anesthesia while undergoing a colonoscopy. Another important aspect in an official story is that it has at least an element of truth. It is true that a procedure was performed.
You’ve heard the official story. In a moment (dramatic pause)...you’re going to hear (yet another dramatic pause)… the bastardized, 21st century perversion of Paul Harvey’s The rest of the story. There can be nothing more ennobling of the man’s legacy than to have homage paid in such a sacrilegious fashion. With some omissions in the interest of national security of course, I will now relate to you what really happened this last Friday.
We must first go back a few weeks, to another event which occurred during resident Biden’s recent visit to the UK. Much was made of his rampant flatulence at several events during that tour, but there is more to that story than we have been told. Resident Biden’s bodily functions are very closely monitored here at home, and for good reason. The resident is suffering with an affliction common to career politicians. Having spent so much of his life with his head up his ass, his brain has gradually migrated from within his skull into the deeper recesses of his bowels. This has not inhibited the resident’s ability to perform in any way. He is only being required to utilize the most basic of motor skills and rudimentary speech, and even these functions in very brief and limited fashion. The resident is a human puppet, guided by the will of others. He is wired up and largely guided by remote control. This can only work for as long as there is still brain matter to connect with.
The Secret Service Presidential Detail has been augmented to meet the additional challenges presented by a subject whose cognitive function registers somewhere slightly above an eggplant. This elite squad is code named FRANTIC: Fecal Retention And Neutralization Team, Inter-Continental. Their mission is to monitor and report real time data on the vital STF ratio, and they are empowered to take corrective action where necessary. The STF ratio is a measurement of sharts to farts. To illustrate (yes, I am afraid we must), on a normal day the resident will have one shart to every four farts. At this rate the potential accidental discharge of brain matter is sustainable. Recapture from diaper loads are spoon fed back to the resident by his wife, Jill. She tells him it’s chocolate pudding. He can’t tell the difference. Following this regimen brain matter can be sustained at the minimal 27% level.
The FRANTIC team became very alarmed when during the recent visit to the UK, the resident’s STF ratio rose to a perilous 2 out of 5. Then there was the “Camilla Lode”. The FRANTIC team were unable in the field to verify with 100% accuracy, but it is suspected that the resident may have shit away as much as 3% of his remaining brain matter in that single discharge. This combined with the increased rate of loss assured that receptors for the remote system would begin failing. Thus, they had to call a lid. That is why the resident was excluded from numerous events. But that’s not the worst of it…
Upon arriving back stateside the resident was subjected to a thorough examination. It was even worse than they thought. Brain matter had fallen to a critical 20%. He was going to need to be rewired, and even then there were no guarantees how well he would work. It was at this point that the medical decisions were thrust into the very capable hands of America’s preeminent physician, Dr. Anthony Fauci.
In addition to his now legendary medical prowess, Dr. Tony has become equally adept in political intrigue. After cleverly steering US taxpayer dollars into the hands of Chinese Communist bio-warfare researchers, it should come as little surprise that he has likewise steered money into other secretive enterprises. One of these very super secret programs was buried within the shell game of federal budgeting for the NIH. It was prepared with just this very situation in mind. Brace yourselves for what I am about to tell you. The NIH, in a secure, undisclosed location, has in their possession a shrink ray device. Part of this is secretly underwritten by Disney. There is talk of a film being made. I’m thinking “Honey, I shrunk the Golem”, but Fantastic Voyage II is the lead at the moment. You have been warned.
The good Dr. Fauci already had a contingency plan prepared. Just like he had for Covid. Those 85 minutes that Kameltoe the Ho held the nuclear football were the consequence of Dr. Fauci’s Operation Love Canal. A specially designed vessel, looking something like a diving bell, was manned with a crew of FRANTIC specialists and reduced to near microscopic size in the NIH shrink ray. From there this craft was introduced up the resident’s ass, under the guise of a simple colonoscopy. Their mission was to determine how much actual brain matter still existed, and how much of it was still viable for interface with the remote control. If it was determined that the resident was unsalvageable a decision had already been made to simply allow him to wander into the forest and shit himself to death.
As of this writing, on Sunday morning, 21 November, I am unable to report their complete findings and no official decision has been rendered concerning the fate of the resident. I could speculate, but will refrain from doing so. I can, however, share some brief excerpts of radio transmissions broadcast between Love Canal I (Fauci, at the control center) and Love Canal II (the FRANTIC crew). Examine these at your own risk and form your own conclusions.
Fauci: Love Canal II, this is Love Canal I. What’s your 20?
FRANTIC: ……..(static)…….ead you, Love Canal I. We are arriv...(static)….top of the colon now…..
Fauci: Can you see any brain left, or will you have to go deeper?
FRANTIC: …...is something up there, Love Canal I…..(static)…… in…. closer look…..(static)
there is a four minute pause in transmission here
Fauci: Love Canal II, do you copy?
FRANTIC: (static)
Fauci: Love Canal II, do you copy?
FRANTIC: ...(static)…. Copy, Love Canal I….Holy Shit! What was that!?…...(static)
Fauci: Love Canal II, move to frequency 2 – 1, repeat, move to frequency 2 – 1. Confirm
FRANTIC: ….(static)…. - 1, confirm
Fauci: Frequency 2 – 1
FRANTIC: confirm, Love Canal I.
Fauci: I’ve lost you on the monitor, Love Canal II. What is your 20?
FRANTIC: Copy, Love Canal I. We are around behind the top side of the colon. Unable to establish AV link. There is some kind of mass….
Fauci: Please repeat last transmission, Love Canal II
FRANTIC: We are behind a mass of some kind, Love Canal I. It…. It has a gravitational field of it’s own….some kind of static electric storm surrounds it…..it’s….it’s….
Fauci: Is it the brain, Love Canal II? Can you tell if it’s the brain!?
FRANTIC: We can’t get too close, Love Canal I….it’s trying to pull us in….
Fauci: Can you tell if it’s the brain!?
FRANTIC: It may be, Love Canal I. It may be the brain, but it’s…..(static)…… distinguish where the brain…..(static)….. where the deuce begins….. Oh God! Here comes another one! …..(static with roaring sound)….
Fauci: You’re breaking up again Love Canal II. Please repeat.
FRANTIC: We’re going to leave the mic open, Love Canal I…..
Where’s Chuck, huh? Stand up Chuck, come on….(deep rumbling)…….. Ya know? I mean
any gas station in Delaware, you need a slight Indian accent…..(static)……
We’re taking a beating here, Love Canal I! The brain mass has became a brain-feces hybrid! He’s shedding memory! Listen!
Dat’s right, Joe. Birrrions and Birrrions of dorrars. All the American dorrars you ever
need. And for Hunter too. You just do whatever China say, everybody happy! Okay?
…….(static)….. Come on, Joey! Time for some more chocolate pudding…..
….. This is a pretty fuckin’ big deal, huh?…...(static)….. birrrions and birrrions of
dorrars…...whatever China say…..(static)…..
Fauci: Get out, Love Canal II! Save yourselves!
The transmission went dead there. At least that’s the official story. I suspect that Dr. Tony and his pals at NIH have some more tricks up their sleeve. They probably have a Biden Bot at the ready somewhere. A Bot has worked out reasonably well for NFL commissioner, so there is no reason to think they can’t pull this off. The kids over at Pravda will help, I’m sure. And Joe? He’ll go home to Wilmington and wander into a marsh, sit down and shit out what little brain he has left. They’ll gather up that last diaper and put it on display over at the Smithsonian. I’m pretty sure they’ll put those hair plugs on the new Bot and no one will be able to tell the difference. Regardless, you can rest assured that the resident will still be guided by a Chinese operating system.
