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958

The spectators filed into the stadium for the event. Tens of thousands turned out to observe what they had been told was the greatest gladiatorial battle of their time.

As the house lights went down, the announcer, hexagram stitched to his robes over his heart, bellowed, welcoming one and all to observe the spectacle they were about to behold. He presented the champions for their approval.

Clad in red, hexagram emblazoned on his plastic breastplate to denote his sponsor, the first combatant emerged from the chamber below the arena. Paunchy, elderly, with feeble arms and a wispy blonde pile of hair combed over his scalp. The announcer screamed, “Presenting, the God Emperor!” Bearing a plastic sword and shield, the old man struggled to lift them over his head. Half of the crowd roared its approval.

From the blue entrance emerged a fat, middle aged woman of indiscernible race, spandex failing to conceal her failing figure, a hexagram on her breastplate identical to the one adorning her opponent. “Presenting, The Viceroy of the Amazons!” She held aloft her plastic spear and giggled maniacally. Her flimsy upper arms bedraggled by flapping skin that trembled at the faintest provocation. The other half of the crowd screamed in delight.

The judge, bearing the same hexagram on his tunic as the combatants, whispered the rules to each champion, not enlightening the crowd to his instructions. Then, to the audience, he announced, “This is single combat. In the end, the crowd will choose the victor. To protect your privacy and help you choose without fear of reprisal, the selection will be made in secret, using the slips you will be provided, and will be tallied by the section leaders.”

In response, the section leaders, each bearing a hexagram on his or her tunic, raised their arms to allow those in attendance to note where to submit their selections.

Slips were handed out by the section leaders, taking no account of to whom they gave, nor from which section, nor the number of tally slips provided to any one person. The number very likely exceeded those in attendance, but few were bothered by this fact, and those who were had faith that their selection would still emerge.

The judge finally announced the battle commencement.

The Amazon slipped and fell, her corpulent form sprawling as her plastic spear went skittering across the ground. The God Emperor pantomimed, in exaggerated movement, a slice at the downed opponent, giving her ample time to move aside from his impending blow, his plastic sword scraping harmlessly across the floor.

Recovering from her pratfall, the Amazon climbed shakily to her feet and reclaimed her weapon, as the God Emperor waited patiently. She lunged for the God Emperor, flailing and missing wide without even the appearance of skill. Despite the clumsy and obvious miss, the God Emperor clutched his ear. When he released, it started to bleed. Despite this, he soldiered on, a brave visage on his grim face. He pumped his fist into the air for the crowd, who cheered in response.

The battle raged on with clumsy misses and glancing blows of harmless weapons until the judge called for the bell. The Amazon collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion while the God Emperor stood tall, as if he had defeated a valiant and powerful foe.

The judge announced that the crowd would now have the chance to select the victor, and to submit their tally slips.

They did so obediently. Some had their slips refused. Others handed their slips over and watched as they were ripped to shreds without being tallied. More still watched as those who had sneaked into the arena handed over slips that were readily accepted. While others observed boxes of tally slips being produced by the section leaders themselves.

The tally slips were taken out of the arena seating area, and the section leaders were gone for far longer than was necessary. Eventually they returned to announce the winner.

But in the end, does it matter? Why would anyone care? A fraud committed on a grand scale and with complex layers of deceit is still a fraud. The event was false. The combatants were false. The rules were false. The system was false. Yet somehow, the results will matter?

The spectators filed into the stadium for the event. Tens of thousands turned out to observe what they had been told was the greatest gladiatorial battle of their time. As the house lights went down, the announcer, hexagram stitched to his robes over his heart, bellowed, welcoming one and all to observe the spectacle they were about to behold. He presented the champions for their approval. Clad in red, hexagram emblazoned on his plastic breastplate to denote his sponsor, the first combatant emerged from the chamber below the arena. Paunchy, elderly, with feeble arms and a wispy blonde pile of hair combed over his scalp. The announcer screamed, “Presenting, the God Emperor!” Bearing a plastic sword and shield, the old man struggled to lift them over his head. Half of the crowd roared its approval. From the blue entrance emerged a fat, middle aged woman of indiscernible race, spandex failing to conceal her failing figure, a hexagram on her breastplate identical to the one adorning her opponent. “Presenting, The Viceroy of the Amazons!” She held aloft her plastic spear and giggled maniacally. Her flimsy upper arms bedraggled by flapping skin that trembled at the faintest provocation. The other half of the crowd screamed in delight. The judge, bearing the same hexagram on his tunic as the combatants, whispered the rules to each champion, not enlightening the crowd to his instructions. Then, to the audience, he announced, “This is single combat. In the end, the crowd will choose the victor. To protect your privacy and help you choose without fear of reprisal, the selection will be made in secret, using the slips you will be provided, and will be tallied by the section leaders.” In response, the section leaders, each bearing a hexagram on his or her tunic, raised their arms to allow those in attendance to note where to submit their selections. Slips were handed out by the section leaders, taking no account of to whom they gave, nor from which section, nor the number of tally slips provided to any one person. The number very likely exceeded those in attendance, but few were bothered by this fact, and those who were had faith that their selection would still emerge. The judge finally announced the battle commencement. The Amazon slipped and fell, her corpulent form sprawling as her plastic spear went skittering across the ground. The God Emperor pantomimed, in exaggerated movement, a slice at the downed opponent, giving her ample time to move aside from his impending blow, his plastic sword scraping harmlessly across the floor. Recovering from her pratfall, the Amazon climbed shakily to her feet and reclaimed her weapon, as the God Emperor waited patiently. She lunged for the God Emperor, flailing and missing wide without even the appearance of skill. Despite the clumsy and obvious miss, the God Emperor clutched his ear. When he released, it started to bleed. Despite this, he soldiered on, a brave visage on his grim face. He pumped his fist into the air for the crowd, who cheered in response. The battle raged on with clumsy misses and glancing blows of harmless weapons until the judge called for the bell. The Amazon collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion while the God Emperor stood tall, as if he had defeated a valiant and powerful foe. The judge announced that the crowd would now have the chance to select the victor, and to submit their tally slips. They did so obediently. Some had their slips refused. Others handed their slips over and watched as they were ripped to shreds without being tallied. More still watched as those who had sneaked into the arena handed over slips that were readily accepted. While others observed boxes of tally slips being produced by the section leaders themselves. The tally slips were taken out of the arena seating area, and the section leaders were gone for far longer than was necessary. Eventually they returned to announce the winner. But in the end, does it matter? Why would anyone care? A fraud committed on a grand scale and with complex layers of deceit is still a fraud. The event was false. The combatants were false. The rules were false. The system was false. Yet somehow, the results will matter?
[–] 3 pts

I do not wish to play.

[–] 2 pts

But if you don’t play pretend with the jews, they might install Kamala!!!!