When I was 6 I was still a young Whitey. I don't remember a lot about the Motherland, but for the
sake of everyone's interest, I'll try to remember. 'Twas Caucasia...
At 5:30 AM sharp, I would wake up to a hard, long, stiff, black...................day
of strenuous training in order to become a prophet. Oh my was I a quick learner, by age 7 I was already spreading the word
of...The Prophecy! Starring: Christopher Walken.
By 8 AM I would sit under a long, hard, stiff, strong.............................oak
tree with a book. Usually it would be my Guide to a Prophet's Life. I'm not sure who wrote it, but he lived in Mount
Anderson. Oh, I remember now. His name was Otus, and he was a MAMMOTH of a man. Actually, wait...he
was a mammoth.
At night we would play a wholesome game of "catch the staggering sacrifice," during which we would
catch a goat from the filthy petting zoo of the east. After which we would sacrifice him to "He Who Dwells in the Mighty Whitey
Woods."
I would then write poetry. I would like to share one of my poems with you...
"I am Anderson, hear me roar
I am Anderson, watch me soar
Whitey Anderson, like a rocket
Whitey Anderson, Caucasian Prophet"
