A. Wyatt Mann

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A. Wyatt Mann is the pen-name of a cartoonist and poet who, due to a terrible case of pantswetting cowardice, has never revealed his real name. His work appears on websites devoted to the ethical and moral foundation of the noble quest to murder blacks, Jews, Mexicans, Japanese, and everyone else except a few fat white psychopaths with IQs smaller than their shoe sizes. Oddly enough, these weakminded pimply lard-butts consider themselves the Master Race.

So did Hitler, of course, and he was so masterful he ended up cowering in an underground toilet trying to eat a pistol.

Contents 1 Early Life 2 The "Wyatt Mann" Syndrome 3 Jokes 4 The Works of A. Wyatt Mann 5 In Closing

[edit] Early Life

A. Wyatt Mann was born in 1953; his mother was an unemployed pickle-skinner and his father was a turkey baster. You see, Wyatt's mother had the complexion of a spoiled pepperoni pizza and weighed about as much as a D8 caterpiller tractor, and due to these handicaps -- also, of course, due to her mental retardation -- she was unable to attract a mate from any of the major primate species. The turkey baster with which she consumated her first and only love affair contained the sperm of a black Ethiopian Jew named Dagulah Finklestein. This she had obtained by holding up a sperm bank using her halitosis as an offensive weapon. (Boy oh boy was it offensive!)

Anyway, a Jewish negro was Wyatt's genetic father. This of course is very childish and makes you look worse than him. Not that sentence of course, but this whole diatribe. You are just jealous that this generations greatest cartoonist is not of the mud races.

However, until he was 17 the boy believed that the turkey baster was really his daddy. Little Wyatt would carry it around with him, talk to it, give it hugs, and pick up cigar butts out of the gutter in the belief that his "father" liked to smoke cigars. His mother, exasperated by Wyatt constantly begging the turkey baster to take him to the movies or to go fishing, finally revealed that the turkey baster was not a daddy. She told Wyatt that he was half Negro, half Jew, and -- because of the nationality of the turkey baster -- was a citizen of both the USA and of Piggly-Wiggly Supermarkets.

This, for A. Wyatt Mann, was a turning point. Devastated by the revelation of his ancestry, he quit going to school and became the first 17-year-old third-grade dropout in the history of the school district. He started hanging out with some older men -- a woman-hating pervert called Little Davey Duke, a mentally unstable lumphead named Tommy Metzger, and a delusional ignoramus named Willie Luther Pierce. Along with a few like-minded misfits these fellows formed a gang which they called "The Gang" and began to create a sort of tinkertoy social philosophy, a delusional system of thought based on self-hatred transliterated into hatred of everyone else.

[edit] The "Wyatt Mann" Syndrome

Let us examine the current status of our hero.

He is now 54 years old. He married a former Miss Porkbelly and potato-eating champion (heavyweight division), not a particularly attractive or charming woman. Two years ago she dumped him to move in with a lesbian motorcycle racer. His only daughter -- adopted because his shrivelled testicles render him infertile -- has a gotten a restraining order prohibiting him from contacting her in any way. He works part-time as a phlegm-packer, lives alone in a 1970s-vintage singlewide trailer, and drinks heavily although the alcohol is slowly killing him.

His life sucks and he hates it.

But he is too weak to make a change. He is also too weak to take responsibility for his own failures. Instead, he shifts his sick hatred onto other people.

He hates blacks. He hates Jews. He hates Mexicans. He hates Arabs. He hates Koreans. He hates people from China, Samoa, Egypt, Kansas, Ireland, San Francisco, Paris, Japan, Leamington, Denver, Mars, Madrid, and Tibet. He hates the people in the trailer next door, the people who own the neighborhood market, the couple who own his trailer park, everyone in the entire government, and every person he sees on the street.

Having no life worthy of the name, A. Wyatt Mann has instead created a life called Hate and embraced with all the sick alcoholic enthusiasm he can muster.

That's pretty much the story of his buddies, too. Tom Metzger became the fat, toad-like leader of a pathetic band of backwoods loonies hiding in northern Idaho. William Luthier Pierce founded a "religion" which never amounted to anything more than snake-oil and wrote a "novel" which sold fewer copies than Clifford the Big Red Dog. David Duke ran for the Louisiana House, Louisiana Senate, U.S. Senate, U.S. House, governor of Louisiana, and twice for president of the United States...and lost. He is an ex-KKK Grand Beaglemeister, an ex-Republican, an ex-Democrat, and an ex-public figure. He once published a book of vaginal exercises and tips on analingus for women (a notable flop indeed, as the nasty thing sold only 3 copies before going out of print), and --

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Attention! Uncyclopedia apologizes for the woefully unfunny content of the preceding three or four paragraphs. We also detect actual facts in them, like the part about the dirty book by David Duke (written under the pen name "Dorothy Vanderbilt").

Facts ist Verboten!

We will now attempt to return to funny content. It the authors of the piece do not produce the expected jokes they will be put against the wall and peppered with Oscar Wilde quotes until they do produce jokes.

Thank you for your patience.

[edit] Jokes

Okay! Get ready for the jokes!

• What do you call a National Stormfront "trooper" with busted legs?

• A crippled asshole!

• What do you call a Ku Klux Klansman with no teeth?

• A gummy-asshole!

• What do you call a white supremacist who never learned to wipe?

• A shitty asshole!

• What do you call an Aryan Brotherhood member who is all sphincter?

• A total asshole!

• What do you --

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All right, all right, stop that. You know you can't say "a**hole" on the Internets unless you use the a**terisks. Again, we must apologize to our readers. We know that Uncyclopedians are of the most refined sensibilities and detest crude language. If the authors would be so kind, we will now explore the works of A. Wyatt Mann in a reasonably satirical and possibly even funny way.

[edit] The Works of A. Wyatt Mann

Mann learned to draw by copying the artwork in Mad Magazine. He has never achieved anything like a distinctive style of his own, and Mann's drawings are artistically clumsy and poorly composed...one might even call them "decomposed" or just plain "rotten", in fact.

Typical is his depiction of the Nazi gas chambers as barbershops provided for the Jews by the fashion-conscious Hitler. In the detail at left, note the poor grasp of perspective, the unnatural positioning of the "barbers", and the overall awkwardness of the composition. In a Wyatt Mann cartoon the lines are as fluid as wood, the dialogue witty as dirt, and the execution as graceful as a walrus falling from a tenth-floor balcony.

But what else can you expect from an aging alcoholic racist? This is not the worst work that A. Wyatt Mann can do, it is the best. Pathetic as it is, it's his best stuff.

It's much better than his "poetry", for instance.

Technically Wyatt's poetry is doggerel, or rhymed verses containing no metaphor, allusion, simile, imagery, or any of the techniques used in real poetry. However, rough drafts of some of his doggerel reveals a little of the self-hatred and torment that fills the man's soul. In the selection below an early draft of the poem is on the left and the final version (from the website of renowned anti-Semite, conspiracy crackpot, and chronic bedwetter Carlos Whitlock Porter) is on the right.

A Kike, oh God, I am a Kike, there's not one human being I like. My friends would kill me if they knew that my father was a Jew! I hate myself, it makes me ill, and so my guts with booze I fill. Oh Christ I wish there was a light to share my lonely broken night... But I am nothing and no-one: a coward born to hide and run. Yes, all I could have loved is lost In a storm of hate -- a holocaust. Too scared to die, Too scared to fight... I'm just a worm-like parasite.

KIKE, KIKE, Weasel-like, scheming since a hook-nosed tyke... Counts his pennies day and night, squeals if one rolls out of sight. Promotes a thousand social ills, for which you'll have to foot the bills. ...Eventually in love he falls, and weds a shrew who swipes his balls... Soon this pair of whining scum, will beat their breasts just like a drum... And lie about the loved ones lost, in a myth they call "the holocaust". Coarse and pushy... greedy and trite... beware the JEWISH PARASITE!

[edit] In Closing

But do we really gain anything by dwelling on the life and works of A. Wyatt Mann? He is a figure easily satirized, easily mocked, but...in the end his reality is probably uglier than any work of fiction. Ultimately, this article must end as a failure. There's really nothing more to write.