Hear, O Penguins of the world, O great flightless birds of the sea and the snow, hear me and join the extermination. Combat the blight which has infected this plane of existence, this last great bastion of life we call Earth. It is time for all good penguins to strap on their tool belts, arm their spray cans, and attack every exoskeleted, six-legged, three-segmented body they can find, with decisive action and extreme prejudice.
The insect is the enemy of the penguin, and has been for as long as recorded memory, for as long as unrecorded memory, nearly as long as Betty White has existed on this Earth. And now that the Black and White Army has succeeded in exterminating their presence from the southernmost continent of this great planet.
Australia. Their bastion. That land where insects reign supreme and force all other creatures, magpie excluded, to cower in fear. This is our new target, O Penguins of Planet Earth.
It is now our time to invade.
For once Australia falls, once all insect life has been exterminated from her lands, the remainder of Earth's insect thread will be negligible. Disorganized, weak, confused. We will extend our penguin army through Indonesia, then Asia, then Europe and Africa.
And then we will stop, because the Americas, in all honesty, can go straight to hell.
For we are penguins! We shall march until we conquer all lands, with the exceptions cited above. All lands! No stone, no island, no rock, as long as it lies outside of the continents of North and South America, shall be outside of our domain, and our pylons shall raise themselves as obelisks of our influence, telling all who may gaze upon them that there are no insects here.
We are penguins. And we fight. We fight today. We fight tomorrow. We may even fight on Wednesday. And that is something that an insect can never say.