The Tits of Justice:

The nighttime workers at the Department of Justice are sighing in relief because Attorney General John Ashcroft has resigned. No longer do they have to hear the snap of his flogging whip as he beats his back and shoulders over and over. No longer do they have to hear him cry and weep. John Ashcroft wants to titty fuck the statue of Justice in Great Hall of the building. He can't get the image out of his head, gently removing the curtain he had hung to prevent anyone from looking upon her but him, anointing his dick with Crisco oil and ramming it home in the glorious space between Justice's breasts, one covered, one uncovered, until he's spewed his sinful seed on Justice's tits. It would be simple: he would then lovingly polish Justice's exposed tit with his semen. But these thoughts are wrong. They are wrong, John Ashcroft thinks, he is a godly man, one who has proclaimed the role of the Almighty in the public life, one who told a Bob Jones University audience, "Because we have understood that our source is eternal, America has been different. We have no king but Jesus." Jesus watches him, he knows, he knows, Jesus reads his mind and knows his thoughts. Jesus sees him in his fantasy, pants down, cock erect, orgasmic yells echoing through the Great Hall, sweet Justice getting titty-fucked again. Ashcroft realizes that the Christ knows he is sinful, dirty, mortal. And he has built his life out of absolving himself of that sin.



There's things Ashcroft will miss. He'll miss the secret trips to Guantanamo to enter the holding area where he can smell the shit and piss and blood of the beaten prisoners there. He'll miss licking the sweat off praying Muslims, mats on the cement, shaved heads bowed towards Mecca, Ashcroft bending over them to taste the drip of heat and pain from their heads. He'll miss the trips to New Orleans, to whorehouses, where he walks from room to room, sniffing the sheets to inhale the pungent perfume of pussy, the concupiscence of cock, feigning disgust even as his own prick slowly rises as he thinks of fucking Justice's big tits. It is the same thing with the endless parade of pornography that crosses his desk. He has demanded that he say what images are obscene and therefore he has forced himself to look at it all, all the scat DVDs, the crush videos, the images of degradation and beastiality. He must suffer, he knows, he must, for the good of all. If he does not, then who will?



John Ashcroft believes in suffering - he believes that to suffer is to reach rapture. There's different kinds of suffering, of course: there's the suffering of denial, be it the cleansing pain in the denial of the right to die or the denial of sexual urges. Of course, the greatest suffering comes from the sacrifices we must make in order to achieve higher good. His model is the Christ, of course, and his unfathomable, masochistic suffering at Calvary. When Jesus suffered so greatly, staring at the mocking crowds who laughed at his pain, he still endured it all because he knew there was glory in the agony, ecstasy in the sacrifice. With that in mind, Ashcroft wonders of Americans, who are we to question the mild sacrifices, inconveniences, even, in order to achieve peace, light, and grace? To deny the good of suffering is to act selfishly, to let the Devil in, when God's loving arms want to save you. Like Philistines, Ashcroft knows they must be destroyed in order to achieve good. He knows that it doesn't matter how many suffer in his wake - that he is doing good for the vast majority of people. God, it would feel so good to ejaculate in the cold, calm cleavage of Justice.



John Ascroft handwrote his resignation letter. He called security and safety goals that have been achieved. He fondled himself with his other hand. He wept because he is, after all, human. He has urges, but his greatest attribute is self-denial. And he has taken his godly, sexually-repressed urges out on all of us. Driven Christ-mad by the holiness of himself, his belief in himself as God's vessel, he smirks at the liberating thought of walking down that hall and showing Justice whose bitch she's been these past four years.