Nothing to Say
Paul Hanson was out of sorts. He had a hard time getting out of bed in the days after his interview on the cable access show, which had gotten more than 100,000 views within the first 12 hours after it was uploaded. Hanson had spent the last few days listlessly hitting the refresh button to watch the numbers increase, but the increase brought him no joy. The sense of victory he had enjoyed after the Jews disappeared had given way to the doldrums. With the Jews gone he simply had nothing to say.
The news about Brother David’s being arrest and court appearance for harassing Catholics up in Boston provided something to write about in the upcoming issue of “Our Struggle,” the monthly magazine he produced, but his heart wasn’t in it. Whether Brother David was a Jew or not didn’t really matter. He was too pathetic a figure to have much of an impact on his audience.
“Don’t tell me I miss the Jews!” Hanson said to no one in particular as he sat before his computer. “Such irony! Who knew God had a sense of humor?”
Hanson sat down at his computer, checked social media and saw something about Martin Connelly appearing on a live stream later in the day with a Jewish Star of David tattooed on his forehead. The British newspapers mocked Connelly mercilessly for his shameless bid to stay relevant after the Great Disappearance.
Coments