Justin Bliss

TO THE WASHINGTON POST:

Everyone in the world knows who John Fountain is, and it's no secret he was the most popular man to walk the earth, since Jesus Christ. I knew him personally, which is why I am writing to you today.

I have traveled with John as he traveled the globe, as he was rising in popularity throughout all of the known world. I was with him when he met with the Pope, and I was there with him cheering for the Saints, in the Super Bowl. You've probably seen my picture many times in all the various newspapers and magazines, because I was always the one who was standing right beside him, whenever you media people took his picture.

I was the one with blond hair, and who had a look of perpetual fear in my eyes. It was a scary thing to do, to be around John Fountain. You felt the impendence of an entire planet when you shared the same room with him.

He was a happy man, John was. And though he was fiercely private by nature, contrary to what you might have thought about him, I'm sure, he was also very happy. And perpetually hopeful -- almost to the extent that you thought it might make you sick. It was almost too much hope for one person to bear. But then, you know, all you people thrived on it too, just like I did, because it was truly contagious. Nobody I ever met could seem to resist it; it washed them over. That's why you all loved him, I think, and it's also why those of you who hated him had a really hard time of finding flaw with him. But I think that's why the world liked him so much: because he gave them all hope. I wonder how quickly they will now forget him. Jesus, I hope it's not quickly at all.

You're probably all watching it on T.V. right now, just as I am doing from my motel room, all those ambulance drivers who are rolling his body out from inside the White House. I want you all to read this very carefully, and I want you to believe it, because it's true: they're lying about what happened behind those White House doors. I was there, in the banquet room with him at the luncheon, so I do know the truth about everything that happened. And what's more, if it hadn't been for him, for John Fountian, then I wouldn't even be writing this letter to you, right now. Because I'd be dead. They were planning to kill me, too, it turns out.

He didn't die of a heart attack, as they're now reporting on the T.V. Don't believe what that prick Bill Berry, that Senator, keeps saying about what caused John's death in there. Berry's not a friggin doctor, for chrissakes. He's a damn devious villain who actually hated John as much as the President did. They all hated John, and that's why they needed him dead. And I say "needed" because it was far past the point of their desires, John's death. It was a necessity to kill John. They were checkmated, and everyone knew it. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to conclude such a thing. They were faced with the cold truth that if they didn't kill John, and you all know it's true, then they were going to lose control of everything they controlled. They had to do it, to kill Fountain. All you've got to do is just use your heads a little bit, you people, and I am sure you'll smell the foul play, in all of this.

And if you can't smell it? Then I say, you truly deserve the control they so desperately clamor to harness you with. Those Senators, those Governors, that President -- they could not afford to stand back and twittle their thumbs after what the masses turned out to do, on the day of the now-famous Fountain trial. It was what you people did for John Fountain, that day, that ultimately ended his life.

And now, I suppose they're supposing that since your instigator is now dead and gone, that your willingness to revolt against them any further will be dead, too. And that, just as your popular leader is carried off to be buried, then so will your unwillingness to follow their instructions will be buried, under an ocean of renewed apathy, and hopelessness, and fear.

But don't do it. And that's why I wanted to write you today, before I ultimately surrender: don't do it. Don't fall back into that same old apathy, that John Fountain spent sweat and blood working tirelessly to lift us all out of. Fountain wouldn't have had that. We should remember Fountain. He'd be a good thing to remember.

They choked him to death, all those senators and governors. Right there at the banquet table, just before dessert was served. The evangelist, Rocky Barton, he had a hand in it, too. Shocking, isn't it? But it's true. Everyone had a hand in on it. It was sickeningly carnal -- there was something black and baseless about it: all these men falling over him in all of a moment, like lions over a carcass, and then, there were 12 pairs of hands choking the life right out of him. I watched it from the doorway, just before I ran out of there, as I was chased by two men who meant business. In the scuffle, as John was holding tightly to the side of the banquet table, while he suffered his strangulation, I saw Barton spill a glass of merlot on his white shirt sleeve. And while they proceeded to choke him, all those Senators and Governors, Barton stood there dabbing a soaked napkin on the stain, trying to soak up the wine. He dabbed at the stain while screaming and murdering was taking place, right beside him. What a prick. What a bunch of pricks. What an absolutely evil scene I saw today. We live in a bad world, and today, powerful men snuffed a bright human light.

I'm in hiding right now. The US government has an army of men looking for me as I write this, or at least, that's what Bill Berry screamed to me as I was running across the White House lawn, into the sanctuary of a mob of press people. I was lucky, because they were forced not to kill me in public, but they shouted that I would not get far. But I did get a bit of a head start on them, and was able to get back to this room. I don't know if they know about it yet. John paid for the room in cash, so we'll see. I expect a knock on the door any minute. Or hell, for the door to come falling down, all together.

I figure, after what I saw today, and after fully understanding the nature of things, I really don't care if I live or die any more. I've come full circle -- it's strange. I feel about things like I did when I first met John: I didn't care about dying. But then, he took me high -- showed me the world from the top down, and now, I don't think I can get that high again. It's impossible. He was the only one I knew who had wings in this life, and as for me, I feel wheelchair bound. I'm just going to let them kill me, I suppose, because there's really no where in the world I'll be able to hide, for too long. And I don't want to hide, if you really want to know the truth. I'm tired. I'm exhausted. So what I'm going to do is, I'm going to write out this story about Fountain for all of you, so that everyone will know about the things that took place in his time, and in his rise, and then, I'm going to walk out of this motel room, and try to walk this story over to the Washington Post, so that everyone will finally know. I figure, I'll probably not be able to make it to the Wachington Post, because the building is about 8 blocks away, and I'm sure they'll probably snatch me up before I can get there. But I'm not going in disguise, by damn it. I'm going to walk out that door just as I am -- with my head high, just the way I was born into this life; and if they really want to get me, then damn it, they can go ahead and do whatever they want. Because I'm sick of it: I'm sick of ducking all those people I'm supposed to be scared of. If John Fountain taught me anything at all, then he taught me about fear; and all these weak-ass sacks are not worth a bit of it. They're nothing. They're less than nothing.

I want to tell you about John Fountain now, so that everyone will know the whole truth about what I saw. I sure hope I can make it to the Washington Post, with this thing. But if I don't, and if one of you government fools are reading this thing right now, then I've got two words for you: Fuck You. You'll not contain the world, for much longer.

Eldarion Lathria

Who's John Fountain?


Eldarion Lathria

regis

Eldarion Lathria Quote: Who's John Fountain?


Dunno, but he sounds like a religious nut if I'm any judge of religious nuts.

I mean, who is John Galt?

Not to be so flippant, but conspiracy stories, in my experience, usually end up as the mad/bad mental gymnastics of the afflicted & innocents are usually hurt, if not killed, by the conspiracy-buff. I just saw The Assassination Of Richard Nixon and Sean Penn illustrates that point admirably.

I did a search for John Fountain, and, aside from a couple of religious nuts, there was a whole whack of them & I sure as shit don't have the time nor the inclination to track down every would-be 'prophet'.



:devil1:

Dhaeron

You beat me to it.
Though i might have chosen the words "WTF is John Fountain?"

Justin Bliss

Everybody wants to know who John Fountain is. And I suppose it's the world's most favorite pasttime -- the world's most insatiable desire to discover where it is that he actually came from, and who his parents were, and where he went to school and all that stuff. But really, I guess you could say that it was also the thing that lead him to his death, and yet, the thing that led to his most absolute display of power in the world: his garnering of the allegiance of all the world's masses.

Such is the world, I suppose: it's the thing that makes a person powerful, that is also the thing that will probably end up killing him. And if John were here right now, I suppose he'd nod at that, and add, "Just like Jesus."

Now if you walk up to any person on the street, and if you ask them, "When's the first time you remember seeing John Fountain?" most people will probably tell you about the time he first appeared on ESPN's Sports Center, or the local news' sports report, whenever all those stations were replaying his now world-famous (and infamous) appearance at the Superdome in New Orleans, during the half-time show of that absolute yawner between the Saints and the Pittsburgh Steelers. And they'd probably tell you that even if it wasn't believed that he was actually a prophet sent from God, that he was, even still, the most interesting thing taking place at that peanut-league, skill-level of a game. Hands down, and no contest. Because such are the Saints, you know, and such is John Fountain: one of them infinitely more interesting than the other, and in between, a universe full of difference.

Now. If you were to ask a person who knew a little bit more about the subject -- perhaps, someone with a little bit more history on the thing -- then they'd probably tell you about the first time they saw him on 60 Minutes with Diane Sawyer. They'd tell you about the first time the world actually saw his face on national T.V. And they'd also probably tell you that their first impression of him was that he was probably some sort of religious nut, who had somehow done this amazing thing with his efforts; but also, they'd probably add that by the time the Saints half-time show rolled around, shortly after, that they too began to take him a little bit more seriously, about all the things he had been saying in public view, and about the fact that he was coming through with the promises he was boldly making.

At least, they'd tell you that at some point, he had come to obtain their most undivided attention. That was John.

Now listen: I don't know if you people believe in God or not. And really, it doesn't even make a squirrel's fart worth of difference to me either way, whether you do or you don't. But I do want you to know that John believed in his God. I'm here to tell you at least that much. Because all those people who are out there right now, who are hailing from all those billions of different denominations in the world, who are always speaking out about how they despise John for the things he said and did, and who have been screaming the same thing for the past half-year now about how he was probably possessed by some sort of demon or Antichrist or something -- who knows, man, it's all very silly if you ask me -- those people have it wrong, about John. Because I'm here to tell you: I'm an unbiased source. I have never believed in John's God, and if you'll just think about it for a moment, you'll consider that it was me who was closest to John, and to all his miracles. So I'd know. And for all you people out there who are shouting about how he was some sort of snake-oil salesman or something, I'm here to tell you this much: that man believed. And it pisses me off to hear those who would scurry to drag his name through the mud, as if he were some sort of impostor or something, or some sort of deviant trickster intent on scamming the world; but all's you need to know, you people, is this: when I was on the road with him for the past 8 months or so, I saw him on many a night regrouping in the darkness of all his motel rooms, bowing down in the darkness by his bed and praying deeply, when nobody was watching. He trembled in prayer, is what he did, and he did it often. So the way I figure it is, if the guy prayed to his God in private fashion, and if you can believe me about that, then the guy believed the things that he believed. And he did. So don't say he didn't. And you can rage against Fountain all you want, if you want, but whenever the world's eye went to sleep each night, I'm here to tell you that Fountain was the same guy in private as he was out in public. So I don't want to hear about how he didn't believe in the thing he was "selling," because you simply don't know what you're talking about. And sure, you can debate the validity of his miracles; go fot it. You can go to your bars and to your golf courses and make all your cases about whether or not he was simply a human being with a strong human's will, or whether God was actually involved in the process. Because really, concerning all those popular conversations, in my own mind, I too go back and forth on the issue, myself. I'm only being honest.

But tell me he wasn't a believer, and that he was some sort of sham-artist who didn't believe in the things he claimed to believe? Well then, man, I'll know you're a big putz. Because you'll be talking about something you know nothing about.

Sometimes, you people, I don't know why John even tried. It's kind of like Blade said, in that movie, with regards to John Fountain and all of you: "Some motherfuckers are always ice skating uphill." John skated uphill, and with a smile on his face. And though some of you may have been his "hill," I'm here to tell you: you don't have to be the hill, anymore. It's your choice, and it always was.

It's always about the miracles. That's what people want to talk about. Because that's the bottom line whenever people debate about who John was. It was the common denominator, and it's a shame it had to be that way, because John was far more than his miracles: he was a walking, talking miracle, in the form. And sometimes, you didn't even realize this fact until much later on. Way later, in fact. But that was John.

This one time in England, a guy walked up to John on the street and said, "I want you to work a miracle for me." And there was John, all bright-eyed and smiling as he always was, and he looked at the guy and said to him, "What'cha want, man?"

The guy replied, "I want nothing, and that's my problem. There is nothing I want in the world. I'm so sad about that. I used to be hungry for things -- for money, for a good job, for a family. And now that I have all those things, I'm not hungry for anything any more. My days have become bland and flavorless, and my life feels like it's already over. And I'm young, too, you know?"

So John took his hand and said, "Come with me." And then, he led the man off the sidewalk into the middle of the street, and stood directly in front of an oncoming trolley. They both stood there on the tracks as the train came heading over a hill, and when people saw them standing there, they all started to shout. And as usual, as I watched it -- and as I had seen this sort of thing so many times before -- I clenched my fists and said, "Oh Shit," as my heart thumped wildly in my chest. That was John, too.

Immediately, whenever the man saw what was coming for him, he began to try to wriggle away from John's grip, but John held tight. All the while, John was saying things into the man's ear as he continued to scream, and as the train came closer and closer. But at the last possible second, and just before the train could run them both over, I could hear John shout to the man, "DO YOU STILL WANT 'NOTHING?" And to this, the man screamed, "NO! PLEASE LET ME GO!"

John shoved the man out of the way, and lept to the other side of the tracks. And when the train finally passed them, they both lay there in the street looking at each other from the opposite sides of the tracks. The man lay there crying, all frantic with wide-eyed fear. John lay there looking back at him, a big smile of satisfaction across his face, all panting like a tired dog on the porch.

That was John, too.

Morethancaffine

Justin Bliss is bouncing a political thriller book idea or movie script off of us for some reason.

The only names he gives are character-like names. (He never names real world people, he does not name the President, or the Governors, or the Senators, with the exception of the fictional Bill Berry.)

John Fountain (non-existant world renown martyr, and really great guy apparently)
Rocky Barton (non-existant evangelist)
Bill Berry (non-existant Senator)

Plus, the New Orleans Saints have never been to a Superbowl, win or lose.(Unless they bought tickets and sat in the stands.)

The only real mystery here is who is Justin Bliss and why did he post this on Internet Infidels?

Justin Bliss

I'm very sorry -- I misspoke earlier. It was Prime Time Live that Fountain appeared on, with Diane Sawyer -- and not 60 Minutes. He was interviewed by Lesley Stahl on 60 Minutes. I was thinking of Sawyer's older days, whenever I wrote that.

And he ran circles around both of them, if you really want my honest opinion. But I just wanted to clear that up for you, in case you were doing some kind of search on Fountain, and his 60 Minutes episode.

Sincerely,

Justin Bliss

John the Non-Baptist

As a long-suffering Saints fan, I have to echo morethancaffiene's comment. The idea of the Saints playing in a Super Bowl is about as far-fetched as a guy being nailed to a cross and then coming back to life.

IamMoose

I have gathered that this is something to do with an upcoming movie, but other than that I am still scoobied.

ex-xian

Guys! C'mon! You've never heard of John Fountain?

Where have you been?