Fukushima Man

So there I was in one of those giant discount stores trying on a new pair of pants in the dressing room a cool neutral voice said “changing your underwear is politics and by the way when was the last time you cut your toenails wearing or not wearing a watch is politics that mole near your left knee is political the calcium deposit on your right ankle is political the way you look at yourself in the mirror is political those three years of your life in the 60s we can’t account for are political.”

The curtain brushed aside and a tall naked woman walked in she ran a black instrument over the new pants -a loud buzz- “they’re radioactive,” she said “testicular cancer in three months try the pink drawstring sweat pants instead” she withdrew the neutral voice picked up… “you’re a month late on your appointment for a dental cleaning you haven’t changed your oil in a year your health plan will be canceled next week”

I ran out of the dressing room, spotted the front door in the distance and hightailed it…

I emerged into the parking lot…cop cars parked all around…no way through…SWAT guys in black with rifles pointed at me…fat dude with a bullhorn…”lie down on the ground…lie down on the ground now…”

I looked around and saw a large man wearing a gray coat walking away from the store with a package under his arm. I pointed at him and screamed “Russian agent! There! Al Qaeda Russian terrorist! Get him!”

The cops all swiveled and opened fire. They turned that poor bastard into dog meat in a few seconds.

A lieutenant walked up to me and shook my hand. “You saved your country today, sir.”

He squinted. “We knew you were for real when we saw your pants. They’re glowing. Those are Fukushima Casuals. Not many men have the balls to wear them.”

a month later

when I met the president

they had me in my new pants

behind a special shield

he passed a medal through a slot

and I took it and put it my pocket

“son,” the president said, “we all have to make sacrifices

to keep the engines running and the lights on

we’re all in this together”

he grinned, winked, and shot me with his finger

a few minutes later the SS boys dumped me out in an alley and pointed me toward a string of bars

I got the message

the women, you see,

and I’m not talking the best women maybe, but

some women are better than no women,

are attracted to the pants

they come up to me while I’m drinking and

touch the material

when I’m in my room late at night smoking

I notice the cigarettes burn faster

the wall paper is peeling

the windows are fogging over right away

there’s a force

I have this crazy feeling

it has a mind or at least a purpose of its own

it wants to expand

and I’m the messenger

it’s chosen me for some reason


when I wake up in the morning I realize it’s just one of those things you think when you’re alone

and the most important thing about you is your glowing pants

even a blessing can be a curse

that’s what I say now when I’m on the occasional talk show

when a lunatic with bright bright teeth

interviews me

the man with the glowing pants

…so I’m sitting in this little bar talking to a floozie

when the tall naked woman from the giant discount store

walks in

only she’s wearing a business suit

she brushes the floozie aside and sits next to me

she orders three shots of tequila and downs them one after another

she leans in close and says

“don’t you get it? they’ve been profiling you for a while now, turns out you’re the one schmuck in fifty million who thrives on radiation…” she leans even closer and I can feel her tongue in my ear like a moist swizzle stick…”in fact, they’re thinking of wiping out the whole human race and rebuilding it using you as the genetic template…”

and that’s how I find myself in an underground lab strapped to a table and a guy who reminds me of Allen Dulles, dead-eye dick with those rimless glasses and a cold blank stare,

stands above me…

Allen says, “If we put this guy next to a few fuel rods, he might glow so brightly he lights up the whole world…he might be God…he might be, finally, God made visible….ship this putz to Japan tonight and let’s see what happens…”

Fukushima Man

Jon Rappoport

The author of two explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED and EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at www.nomorefakenews.com