Sick Aire`
The ship was in port at the military base in Japan. The transmitters were already in place across the landscape and on the ready. The ship was equipped with a transmitter that would send a signal to the various transmitters to emit across the airwaves via weapons grade frequencies.
From deep within the bowels of the ship, a recording was being made to be transmitted on a constant loop to the inland transmitters.
The voice spoke into the microphone: "I love American G.I. and want to suck his big American cock." The eyes above the mouth that spoke the words gave a mischievous sideways wink at the others in the room and giggling and laughter rang out, as if they'd all just heard a really funny joke.
The others in the room began to file out of the doorway, chattering among themselves about stuff they were about to do. The voice turned to the editor and said "You know what to do, soldier."
"Right. Edit out the laughter and loop it and get it online right away."
"Correct, soldier" said the voice as he left the room.
The editor was alone in the soundproof room. He sat down behind the microphone and added some dialog to the recording: "I especially love Black American G.I. cock. It's soooo big and it feels so good!"
The editor busted out in a resounding maniacal laugh, throwing back his head and lifting his hands to the sky. Then he ran the edited recording through the translator and voice modulator, which would translate the recording and make it sound like a young Japanese woman.
When the recording was finished, the editor put it online and, immediately, women across the continent began to fantasize about big Black American G.I. cocks.
Within a month, there was no shortage of oriental pussy for the military men, as the women seemed to be "programmed" to throw themselves on their cocks, especially the Black ones.
The transmission was on constant loop, constantly playing, day and night.
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At another time, on another continent, on another base, another recording was being made by yet another voice: "I must kill the infidels! Allah is the only God! America is the great Satan! Muhammad deserves more reverence than Allah! Jesus is not God's son! I will do the will of Muhammad and kill the infidels! We will torture those Christians who defy the will of Muhammad and rape their wives and daughters and kill their sons!"
This time, there was no sideways wink, no laughter, no crowd in the room. Just the voice and the editor.
The recording was edited and translated and looped and transmitted via weapons grade frequencies across five nations. Within a month, the increase in crazed deranged Muslim extremists was astronomical. The numbers grew by the second.
The transmission was on constant loop, constantly playing, day and night.
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At another time, at another place, another voice spoke into a microphone:
