A. Wyatt Mann
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“Whoever wrote the rest of this...I fart in your general direction. A. Wyatt Mann is the apotheosis of Western Civilization's wit and artistic talent. You are not fit to pop one of his zits, if he has any. Which I surely hope he does, so that you may be deemed unfit to pop them. So there. In conclusion, I am butt-ravaged beyond all repair.”
A. Wyatt Mann is the pen-name of a cartoonist and poet who, due to Jew oppression, is forced, like so many of his politically oppressed brothers before him, to toil in anonymity. His work appears on websites devoted to the ethical and moral foundation of the noble quest to murder Blacks, Jews, Mexicans, Japanese, and everyone else except the members of the preciously small but, let's face it, objectively close-minded and ignorant Christian White Race.
However, until he was 17 the boy believed that the turkey baster was really his daddy. Little Wyatt would carry it around with him, talk to it, give it hugs, and pick up cigar butts out of the gutter in the belief that his "father" liked to smoke cigars. His mother, exasperated by Wyatt constantly begging the turkey baster to take him to the movies or to go fishing, finally revealed that the turkey baster was not a daddy. She told Wyatt that he was half Negro, half Jew, and -- because of the nationality of the turkey baster -- was a citizen of both the USA and of Piggly-Wiggly Supermarkets.
This, for A. Wyatt Mann, was a turning point. Devastated by the revelation of his ancestry, he quit going to school and became the first 17-year-old third-grade dropout in the history of the school district. He started hanging out with some older men -- a woman-hating pervert called Little Davey Duke, a mentally unstable lumphead named Tommy Metzger, and a delusional ignoramus named Willie Luther Pierce. Along with a few like-minded misfits these fellows formed a gang which they called "The Gang" and began to create a sort of tinkertoy social philosophy, a delusional system of thought based on self-hatred transliterated into hatred of everyone else.
The "Wyatt Mann" Syndrome
He is now 54 years old. He married a former Miss Porkbelly and potato-eating champion (heavyweight division), not a particularly attractive or charming woman. Two years ago she dumped him to move in with a lesbian motorcycle racer. His only daughter -- adopted because his shrivelled testicles render him infertile -- has a gotten a restraining order prohibiting him from contacting her in any way. He works part-time as a phlegm-packer, lives alone in a 1970s-vintage singlewide trailer, and drinks heavily although the alcohol is slowly killing him.
His life sucks and he hates it.
But he is too weak to make a change. He is also too weak to take responsibility for his own failures. Instead, he shifts his sick hatred onto other people.
He hates Blacks. He hates Jews. He hates Mexicans. He hates Arabs. He hates Koreans. He hates people from China, Samoa, Egypt, Kansas, Ireland, San Francisco, Paris, Japan, Leamington, Denver, Mars, Madrid, and Tibet. He hates the people in the trailer next door, the people who own the neighborhood market, the couple who own his trailer park, everyone in the entire government, and every person he sees on the street.
Having no life worthy of the name, A. Wyatt Mann has instead created a life called Hate and embraced with all the sick alcoholic enthusiasm he can muster.
That's pretty much the story of his buddies, too. Tom Metzger became the fat, toad-like leader of a pathetic band of backwoods loonies hiding in northern Idaho. William Luthier Pierce founded a "religion" which never amounted to anything more than snake-oil and wrote a "novel" which sold fewer copies than Clifford the Big Red Dog. David Duke ran for the Louisiana House, Louisiana Senate, U.S. Senate, U.S. House, governor of Louisiana, and twice for president of the United States...and lost. He is an ex-KKK Grand Beaglemeister, an ex-Republican, an ex-Democrat, and an ex-public figure. He once published a book of vaginal exercises and tips on analingus for women (a notable flop indeed, as the nasty thing sold only 3 copies before going out of print), and --
Attention! Uncyclopedia apologizes for the woefully unfunny content of the preceding three or four paragraphs. We also detect actual facts in them, like the part about the dirty book by David Duke (written under the pen name "Dorothy Vanderbilt").
Facts ist Verboten!
We will now attempt to return to funny content. It the authors of the piece do not produce the expected jokes they will be put against the wall and peppered with Oscar Wilde quotes until they do produce jokes.
Thank you for your patience.
Okay! Get ready for the jokes!
- What do you call an IDF "trooper" with busted legs?
- A crippled asshole!
- What do you call a retired IDF soldier with no teeth?
- A gummy-asshole!
- What do you call a Zionist who never learned to wipe?
- A shitty asshole!
- What do you call a Jewish Defense League member?
- What do you --
All right, all right, stop that. You know you can't say "a**hole" on the Internets unless you use the a**terisks. Again, we must apologize to our readers. We know that Uncyclopedians are of the most refined sensibilities and detest crude language. If the authors would be so kind, we will now explore the works of A. Wyatt Mann in a reasonably satirical and possibly even funny way.
The Works of A. Wyatt Mann
Wyatt is also a poet. In the selection below is one of his witty poems, meant for both adults and children.
He also wrote the epic poem Black Baboon. It goes like this:
Coon, coon, black baboon Brutal, worthless, thieving goon Often high, thrives in jail His welfare check is in the mail Some 40 offspring have been had But none will ever call him dad And yet he hollars, day and night: "I blame the white man for my plight. He spreads his trash around my shack, It's him who makes me smoke this crack He pushed my kind to burn and loot And sends the po-lice that we shoot But inch by inch we're taking hold, Like when the white bread starts to mold We'll overrun your homes and soon They'll only be fit for the black baboon"
But do we really gain anything by dwelling on the life and works of A. Wyatt Mann? He is a figure easily satirized, easily mocked, but...in the end his reality is probably uglier than any work of fiction. Ultimately, this article must end as a failure. There's really nothing more to write.