American Goths will die at his hands - Beware Joe Zark. Radio Free Babylon™

SARS, Gays, Terrorists,
War, Gangs, & the French
"Put 'em all together and you got you an Apocalypse."

(Sparta, MISSOURI) “It's plain as the sun in the sky," says Joe Zark, a farmer in this rural town that lies between Springfield and Branson in the Ozark hills, "Jesus is comin' back and I'll be damned if he finds me without my gun defendin' my own."

"You got your fags and your diseases from Chiner and the tobacco industry has gone to hell thanks to the damned Latvians. Can't anyone see what's goin' on? Americans have got to rise up and start actin' like Americans. We've got to take this country back for God."

Zark watches cable news and listens to Rush Limbaugh when he isn't tending his fields and his animals. His wife Emma doesn't share his media passions. She can be found bringing food to sick neighbors or visiting the lonely when she isn't busy on the farm.

"Sure, time's are scary," says Emma, "But time's are always scary. Joe thought Hitler was the antichrist.

Joe and Emma Zark
of Sparta, Missouri

"Then he thought JFK was the antichrist. Then he thought Jimmy Carter was the antichrist. He thought Grenada was World War III. He thought Panama and Gulf War I were World War III. I support Joe in all he does, but I just can't be gettin' all crazed about it like him. We kinda see it different, but don't get me wrong, we're still of the same faith. I mean, life's short. I got livin' to do yet. Is Jesus coming back? Well, yeah. But I'll be doing what he asked when he gets here if I'm still around."

"Mark my words, Mr. smartypants journalist," says Joe, "When the French are workin' against us, what more sign do you need? That's right out of the Book of Revelations!"

"He means the Book of Revelation," Emma whispers, "It's singular. I hate when people call it Revelations. And I really don't think you can find France in there. Not by name anyway. I've never been able to tell Joe this, but God is NOT an American."

"I am stockpiled and ready for it, son. You mess with me, you mess with my country, you mess with my President and I will mess with YOU! And what's that car you're drivin' anyway, boy?" Joe points to the Saab in the gravel driveway. When Emma explains that Saab is a Swedish company, Joe spits on the lawn. "I know what them Swedes are up to, son. You ain't foolin' me."

Emma excuses herself to load her car with groceries for a neighbor whose husband lost his job. Joe declines her invitation to join her.

"That lazy no good loser ain't never gonna get a job if you keep feedin' his family, woman!" Joe hollers as he heads to the barn. The barn's door is locked and Joe glances around before opening it. On shelves and on the dirt floor are canned goods and bottled water.

"This is for us. Ain't for anyone else. When the big economic meltdown comes and the crap starts to hittin the fan', me and Emma will be eatin' just fine," Joe pulls back a tarp to reveal more mountains of food and bottled water. "If I see so much as one greasy and tattooed pants-down-his-butt little suburban punk pretending to be a gangster with a low rider even dare to drive in my driveway come the Apocalypse, I'll waste him and think nothin' of it. God have mercy on the little dog that tries to take what's mine."

"She means well, poor woman. But you start lettin' your heart bleed like that and next thing you're votin' Democrat," Joe snarls, "Now you tell me that ain't a sign of the end times! Christians votin' Democrat. Sheesh! Whats' next? Dang it! I swear, Abraham Lincoln is turning over in his grave to see what we done to this country."

As Joe bids goodbye, he offers one last bit of advice. "America's got to get right with God. And God has got to bless America. He's got to. He owes us, gosh darnit. And NOW, dang it!"