It's occured to me that I should probably explain why we like some of the authors that we do around here.
Robert Anton Wilson is one of our favorites because he teaches us to question our reality tunnels. My reality, based on my personal experiences and shaped by my nervous system, is different than yours.....or anyone elses. We see things differently...........and we only see things the way we do because our eyes have evolved to collect, arrange and deliver light to our brains which have evolved to sort that information the way they have. Some people are color blind. That is they can't tell much of, if any, difference between red and green let's say. So their particular reality at a stop light is not the same as ours. Their information gathering system displays the stop light to them differently than mine does for me. Learning this simple concept allows a person to realize that anything they think they believe unquestionably, that they have faith in, could be right, wrong, right and wrong or some varying degree of those. Nothing is as it appears, everything is permitted.....some of Bob's influences have said things similar to that.....namely Hassan iSabba, where the words assassin and hashish come from and Aliester Crowley come to mind.
Old Bob has recently left the building. Shuffling off this mortal coil........but his unique brain activity and his willingness to share with us will influence many of us for a long time. The following are some examples of Bob's thoughts........
On probabilty......Bob learned General Semantics from William Burroughs who himself studied dierctly from the mind behind General Semantics, Alfred Korzybski(spelling???), Bob eventually studied Korzybski extensively himself. General Semantics efforts to try and take the IS's out of everything. Things very rarely fit into an IS, rather things should be referred to as probablities. ex: That stop sign IS red. Well, as stated earlier, to someone with color blindness, that stop sign may very well not be red. So the best we can do is say that the stop sign seems red to me....or perhaps to put a probability % on whether or not it will seem red to any random person.......Essentially, things aren't black and white, but rather varying degrees of gray.
Bob quoting JR Bob Dobbs(the founder of the church of the subgenius. Who, by the way, Wilson says learned the secret of having "followers" or "disciples" from L Ron Hubbard in an elevator in Texas. Sometime in the '50's I believe), commenting on the intelligence of the American people........."You know how dumb the average guy is? Well, mathematically, by defination, half of them are even dumber than that."
The following is an excerpt from an interview Bob did with Paul Krassner in, I believe, 2005.........This just kinda fits in with some other posts I've made about the Bush family, so I thought I'd drop it on ya.
Krassner's question.....A dinner party was scheduled for March 31, 1981, the day after an assassination attempt on Ronald Reagan, which, if successful, would have elevated the former CIA chief George Bush to the presidency. The dinner was immediately cancelled. It would have been at the home of Scott Hinckley, brother of the would-be killer. Hinckley's father and Daddy Bush were friends and fellow oil industrialists. A PR firm issued a statement: "This horrible coincidence has been devastating to the Bush family. Our condolences go out to all involved. And we hope to put the matter behind us as soon as possible." Congressman Larry MacDonald was the only legislator who demanded an investigation, but his plane crashed. Whattaya think....coincidence or conspiracy?
I have to ask....devestating for the Bush family? What about that actor they hired to play the president during Daddy-o's first 8 years as president? And what about Hinckley's family. And what about Jodie Foster, who Hinckley said was the reason he did it...to get Foster's attention cause he was in love with her.....sketchy.
Wilson's response.......To me it looks at first like coincidence by about 75% probability. I mean, who would be dumb enough to use an assassin with such obvious links to his employers? But then again, the Bush Crime Family seem to think they can get away with anything, from S&L fraud to stealing an election in the light of day with the whole world watching. They must have an even lower opinion of the intelligence of the American people than I do. Maybe I should change the probability down to about 50%. I guess this does deserve further investigation, by somebody who doesn't fly in airplanes.
Anyone with more research gumption than me wanna comment on Jeb and W's brother who got busting during the S&L scandle? I'm sure he didn't go down, but any specifics? Anyone ever found out about Grand Daddy Bush's association with financing of the Nazi party? Anyone?
Philip K Dick died in the 80's just when he was about to recognize some real commercial success. Production on the movie Blade Runner was ongoing when Phil died. Since, he's had other stories of his made into very successful movies with very big name movie personalities. Blade Runner(Harrison Ford fresh off his success in Star Wars was the first, followed by Total Recall(Arnie Swartzengoverner), Minority Reopt(Tom Cruise), Paycheck(Ben Afleck) and most recently A Scanner Darkly, which didn't have the commercial success the others had but which is probably closest to how Phil's brain worked than the others which had gone through the Hollywood polisher more extensively. It wasn't for lack of star talent, that's for sure, A Scanner Darkly starred Keanu Reeves, Woody Harrelson, Robert Downey Jr and Winona Ryder. Phil had plenty more stories and ideas for Hollywood to exploit. And I'm sure they will. I believe that Phil's daughter now holds the rights to his works.
The theme for which he is most admired around here is the question, what makes us human? Best displayed, I think, in Blade Runner, the story from which it was based is titled Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep? The question specifically asked by Phil in this story is....if you have a fully functioning android, what's the difference between them and us. What makes us human and them not? Would a fully functioning android, which pointed out by Phil, would necassarily, not know it was an android(although that concept wasn't fully realized in Blade Runner. In the movie only one character didn't realize she was an android, the rest did.), have dreams, desires, a concious, etc. How would that android, that didn't know it was an android, differ from us? If at all? What is a soul? Would a fully functioning android be different than us? What makes us human? That's just a brilliant concept.
Another interesting thing about Phil was his writing process. He would hash out the entire story or novel in his head, maybe over several months or years and then get all geeked up and lock himself in his room and write til he was done, just sleeping for small periods or not at all. He had serious medical and health issues because of these intense sessions. When he finished his last novel(that got finished, he was working on a novel, The Owl In The Daylight, when he died), he actually experienced internal bleeding and various other maladies as a result of the process.
Phil was another author who forced you to question what you knew about the world....which is basically nothing.
John Shirley is just a dark, brilliant mind, who is good enough to share that with us. Shirley wrote the screenplay for The Crow, has fronted bands and has written songs for others, such as Blue Oyster Cult. His novels City Come A' Walkin and Crawlers, express his concerns about our continued and increasing technical advances and dependency. And the danger inherent therein. You'll also see that theme in Dick's work.
If you get a chance to read Shirley's collection of short stories titled Dark Butterflies, I think you'll notice some similarities to Parish. I don't think I'd be injury anyone's feelings to postulate that Shirley's skill supersedes that of Parish...and he'd be the first to tell you that, BUT, I do see a similar influence in style and content.
Mark Twain is....well, a little different in style and content than the previous authors, but they are all the same in that they all have incredible wit, are very highly intelligent and force us to ask ourselves questions about ourselves and our belief systems(belief systems, as referred to by Bob as BS, by the way). Twain, with his humor and style encourages one to look past the superficial to find the meaning.
I list Twain because he was one of my earliest influences. I give him the credit for building the foundation for my sense of humor. I encourage anyone who hasn't read Twain's take on Adam's(first man, like Adam and Eve) time in the garden, to do so as soon as possible. It's a hilarious. Twain also has some pretty interesting insights into the cultures and politics of his time......most of which are really timeless. They translate as well now as then.
And finally, HP Lovecraft. What can I say. A world as rich in history and intricacy as those Tolkein ever created.....well maybe not, but close. Tolkien rules too by the way. But I digress.....Lovecraft. An absolute freak. Cthulu, for the love of God. The Necronomicon....please.
Old Bob has said that there is one detective writer, Raymond Chandler and one horror writer, Lovecraft and everyone else is just doing them.....I have to admit, that while I don't have any insight into Chandler, I absolutely agree about Lovecraft. The horrific world he created finds itself into many, many works still. ex: did anyone see the monster that lived in the lake outside the Mines of Moria in the Rings movie? If that monster didn't come straight from Cthulu I'll kiss your ass. I'm not suggesting Tolkien used Cthulu, I'm not even sure about the timeline, if I had to wager, I'd say Lovecraft was around then, but I still don't know if he influnced Tolkien at all. Something I'm gonna have to study now I suppose. But for sure, Lovectraft influenced the design team that created that monster in the lake.....fer sure, yup.
So, I hope you see why we insist on calling them philosopher's instead of just authors(note, it could be argued that Lovecraft was more psychologist or maybe anthropologist, than philosopher(he pulled that world out of our collective subconcious, maybe even historic collective subconcious, see the peoples who populated Europe before, during and after the Celtic era), but I think you can find a fair amount of philosophisin in there too). Please check these guys out, from the links we provide as well as anything else you can google.
Finn
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
WhiteChickenChili
Like all recipes, you can tweak this to make it as spicy as you like. I prefer mild, so the recipe will reflect that.
2lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts
1 large can chicken broth
2 cans chopped green chilis
1 can cream of chicken soup
milk
sour cream
1 large yellow onion
1 yellow bell pepper
1 orange bell pepper
1 jar sweet cherry peppers
1 can red navy beans
1 small can corn
shredded monterey jack cheese
tortilla chips
pepper
chili powder
Brown chicken. In seperate skillet, dice and sautee bell peppers and onion. On another burner start soup stock. Pour chicken broth, cream of chicken soup, chopped green chilis, sweet cherry peppers, pepper and chili powder to taste.
After onions and peppers are sauteed and chicken has browned and been cut up and all has been added to chili, simmer for awhile. After you feel it's been simmered enough, add corn and beans. Then add milk and sour cream to taste.
As soon as everythings hot, it's ready to eat. You'll enjoy a delicious chili, sans anything tomato yet full of color with the yellow and orange peppers, the yellow corn and the red navy beans. The longer it all cooks together, the paler the vegis will get hence adding them at the very end.
You've already let everything else marry together whilst it was simmering, now you'll have a couple different flavors outside the stock chili flavor.
Serve just like the spicy chicken tortilla soup. crumble tortilla chips into soup, sprinkle with cheese. Eat up.
Finn
2lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts
1 large can chicken broth
2 cans chopped green chilis
1 can cream of chicken soup
milk
sour cream
1 large yellow onion
1 yellow bell pepper
1 orange bell pepper
1 jar sweet cherry peppers
1 can red navy beans
1 small can corn
shredded monterey jack cheese
tortilla chips
pepper
chili powder
Brown chicken. In seperate skillet, dice and sautee bell peppers and onion. On another burner start soup stock. Pour chicken broth, cream of chicken soup, chopped green chilis, sweet cherry peppers, pepper and chili powder to taste.
After onions and peppers are sauteed and chicken has browned and been cut up and all has been added to chili, simmer for awhile. After you feel it's been simmered enough, add corn and beans. Then add milk and sour cream to taste.
As soon as everythings hot, it's ready to eat. You'll enjoy a delicious chili, sans anything tomato yet full of color with the yellow and orange peppers, the yellow corn and the red navy beans. The longer it all cooks together, the paler the vegis will get hence adding them at the very end.
You've already let everything else marry together whilst it was simmering, now you'll have a couple different flavors outside the stock chili flavor.
Serve just like the spicy chicken tortilla soup. crumble tortilla chips into soup, sprinkle with cheese. Eat up.
Finn
WarIsHell(FTDParish)
OK, so I'm not gonna get any peace until I post some more short stories. There's some real assholes around here if they wanna be. So, here's one for now and I'll drop some more on y'all periodically.
War Is Hell
The young soldier held his rifle close and peered through the darkness, but only right in front of him, he didn't dare look out across the killing fields. He could feel his heart pounding, could hear it rushing through his veins and he could feel a slight breeze cooling his skin. How odd, the smallest pleasures were the most wonderful things in the world at times like these.
It was so hot here normally, that any relief from the oppresive heat was like a personal favor from God. When he was on night watch, the young soldier invariably ended up asking God for a personal favor. A very specific favor. At first he wondered if he was crazy. If he had shell shock or something. He wondered if the stress had finally gotten to him.
Then he started watching the faces of the other young soldiers as they came off nightwatch. He could see it in their eyes and in the mannerisms. Sometimes he'd try to catch their eyes as they came in from the lines, shambling down the trench in the early morning light. He would silently beg them to tell him he was wrong, that he was crazy. They never did. They only asked the same of him. Noone ever talked about it, maybe that would make it too real. Maybe as long as they didn't voice it, it wasn't real, it was just a dream.
He sat in the forward trench, looking back at his lines. That wasn't proper procedure. But they would just have to live with it if they wanted him out here at night. He could hear the wounded crying. Maybe someone he knew. Maybe someone who'd done him a favor. He could hear some praying. He could hear the artillery being fired and the ordinance landing in a blinding flash of roaring death.........And he could hear them feeding.
At night they covered the dead like swarms of vultures. They were carrion. He averted his eyes when a shell exploded near enough to illuminate his field of vision. The officers had told them it would ruin their night vision if they looked at it. He didn't look because he didn't want to see them feeding.... ever again.
But he could still hear it....them. That sound would haunt him til his last day. he never would have been able to imagine those sounds. Flesh ripping, lips and tongues smaking, bones snapping, marrow being sucked and blood being lapped up and slurped out of muddy pools. But the worst was the sounds of their pleasure at doing it. Of satisfaction and appreciation of a good meal. Almost erotic.
He wondered if they were there at every war or if this was specific to this area...a local phenomenon. Didn't matter much he supposed, they were here now.
He thought often of killing himself. Of pulling the pin on a grenade, releasing the firing pin and clutching the grenade under his chin. Of just ending everything right here. No more getting shot at. No more officers ordering his friends out to get slaughtered....and no more feedings on night watch.
He would have done it, but he didn't want them feeding on him. He didn't want his body to lay in a field or trench or shell crater and be eaten. So he lived. He killed. And he took his turn on night watch and listened to them feed......War really is Hell.
War Is Hell
The young soldier held his rifle close and peered through the darkness, but only right in front of him, he didn't dare look out across the killing fields. He could feel his heart pounding, could hear it rushing through his veins and he could feel a slight breeze cooling his skin. How odd, the smallest pleasures were the most wonderful things in the world at times like these.
It was so hot here normally, that any relief from the oppresive heat was like a personal favor from God. When he was on night watch, the young soldier invariably ended up asking God for a personal favor. A very specific favor. At first he wondered if he was crazy. If he had shell shock or something. He wondered if the stress had finally gotten to him.
Then he started watching the faces of the other young soldiers as they came off nightwatch. He could see it in their eyes and in the mannerisms. Sometimes he'd try to catch their eyes as they came in from the lines, shambling down the trench in the early morning light. He would silently beg them to tell him he was wrong, that he was crazy. They never did. They only asked the same of him. Noone ever talked about it, maybe that would make it too real. Maybe as long as they didn't voice it, it wasn't real, it was just a dream.
He sat in the forward trench, looking back at his lines. That wasn't proper procedure. But they would just have to live with it if they wanted him out here at night. He could hear the wounded crying. Maybe someone he knew. Maybe someone who'd done him a favor. He could hear some praying. He could hear the artillery being fired and the ordinance landing in a blinding flash of roaring death.........And he could hear them feeding.
At night they covered the dead like swarms of vultures. They were carrion. He averted his eyes when a shell exploded near enough to illuminate his field of vision. The officers had told them it would ruin their night vision if they looked at it. He didn't look because he didn't want to see them feeding.... ever again.
But he could still hear it....them. That sound would haunt him til his last day. he never would have been able to imagine those sounds. Flesh ripping, lips and tongues smaking, bones snapping, marrow being sucked and blood being lapped up and slurped out of muddy pools. But the worst was the sounds of their pleasure at doing it. Of satisfaction and appreciation of a good meal. Almost erotic.
He wondered if they were there at every war or if this was specific to this area...a local phenomenon. Didn't matter much he supposed, they were here now.
He thought often of killing himself. Of pulling the pin on a grenade, releasing the firing pin and clutching the grenade under his chin. Of just ending everything right here. No more getting shot at. No more officers ordering his friends out to get slaughtered....and no more feedings on night watch.
He would have done it, but he didn't want them feeding on him. He didn't want his body to lay in a field or trench or shell crater and be eaten. So he lived. He killed. And he took his turn on night watch and listened to them feed......War really is Hell.
ProddingAndTheSuch
Hola. I hope someone....anyone, is enjoying Parish's writing. I've been trying to get him to submit some of his already completed short fiction similar to My Lovely.....prodding him so to speak...cattle prodding
I love the series too, but if he can work on Untitled and prepare the Idiot for us, that should be enough series to last awhile. And if occasionally he can drop in a short story with his set ya up and knock ya down style of guerilla short fiction, all the better. So I'm efforting that now. I'm pretty sure it'll work out, he's pretty much a push over.
So keep an eye out for that.
Also, I'm considering making some posts, sharing some of my fiction. That wasn't the plan originally, but I've been inspired. Seeing Parish's posts has made me jealous of the lime light. Even if noone is reading this, that or the other. And even if I like his work alot more than mine(I'm not sure if that's taste or psychosis).
But for sure, there's more chance of someone reading anything posted here than if we just kept it all in our desks(or desk tops as the case may be), only to be pulled out during drunken madness when we'uns all get together, get drunk, feast and talk about crazy shit and read each other's latest projects. Finished, roughed, abandoned or sometimes pulled from the trash(really happened).
So I know you'll all be looking out for that too.....uuuhhmmmmhhuuuuh.
Also trying to get Tuck to post some more, he's the brains of the outfit and needs to share that with us all via this here platform that the world wide web has given us.....by the way, did y'all know that in jewish mystical numerology, www(world wide web) has the numerical equivalent of 666????? hhhmmmmm. And here I am letting, nay, encouraging Parish to run with the Idiot series. Mayhaps I'm the idiot hhhhmmmmm?
Finn
I love the series too, but if he can work on Untitled and prepare the Idiot for us, that should be enough series to last awhile. And if occasionally he can drop in a short story with his set ya up and knock ya down style of guerilla short fiction, all the better. So I'm efforting that now. I'm pretty sure it'll work out, he's pretty much a push over.
So keep an eye out for that.
Also, I'm considering making some posts, sharing some of my fiction. That wasn't the plan originally, but I've been inspired. Seeing Parish's posts has made me jealous of the lime light. Even if noone is reading this, that or the other. And even if I like his work alot more than mine(I'm not sure if that's taste or psychosis).
But for sure, there's more chance of someone reading anything posted here than if we just kept it all in our desks(or desk tops as the case may be), only to be pulled out during drunken madness when we'uns all get together, get drunk, feast and talk about crazy shit and read each other's latest projects. Finished, roughed, abandoned or sometimes pulled from the trash(really happened).
So I know you'll all be looking out for that too.....uuuhhmmmmhhuuuuh.
Also trying to get Tuck to post some more, he's the brains of the outfit and needs to share that with us all via this here platform that the world wide web has given us.....by the way, did y'all know that in jewish mystical numerology, www(world wide web) has the numerical equivalent of 666????? hhhmmmmm. And here I am letting, nay, encouraging Parish to run with the Idiot series. Mayhaps I'm the idiot hhhhmmmmm?
Finn
TheJunkiesFaust#7(FTDParish)
Before either of us could respond, the cashier screeched, "Hey, get back here with those."
The copper, Dirt and I all turned just in time to see a young boy bolt out the door.
The casheir screamed at the cop, "Billy, you go stop that boy, he just took off with three packs a my cigarettes!"
"Billy" vapor locked for a coupla heartbeats, wanting to tell the old cashier not to talk to him like that, but not. With one last look at us, he took off after the kid.
I grabbed the joint, shoved it in my pocket, told Dirt to get us somethin to drink and went to the car. I'ws already a nervous freekin wreck. Fuck!
Billy's car was still parked next to the building. Now I wished I wouldn'ta told Dirt to get drinks so we could just get the fuck outta this little town 'fore Billy came back and remembered we looked funny.
My fingers drummed an impatient beat on the passenger door as I cursed Dirt for his lollygaggin and waited for Billy to show back up. But Dirt finally made it out to the car and we were off. And none to soon. I looked back and saw Deputy Billy stumble outta the alley and back into the store, alone....and pissed.
"Can you believe the balls on that kid?" Dirt laughed. "He stole those cigarettes right in fronta that cop." Dirt loved anyone who "had balls".
Two blocks down at a stop sign and outta view of the store, the kid came running out from between two old houses and dove head first into our backseat, bounced once off the seat and some bags we had in the back, twisted once on the bounce and plopped down into the floorboard.
Dirt and I both just stared, mouths open as we looked not at a young boy, but a very pretty young lady....dirty, but very pretty. She looked at us, we at her, Dirt and I at each other, and back to her. She looked at us with antipathy and said, "um, fucking drive." We looked at each other again with raised eyebrows, I shrugged and Dirt hit the gas.
We were soon outta town. We drove for a coupla minutes, nobody saying anything.....just driving.....After awkwardness had been firmly entrenched(Dirt and I were a little fucked up), she finally says, My name's Maya, gonna light that joint?"
Dirt and I looked at each other again. I turned to Maya and asked, "What're you talkin about?"
"Come on," Maya says, "I saw you guys go into the bathroom together and I was waiting for you guys to come out so I could see if I could catch a ride. That cop came in while you were in there and then I saw you come out with that joint behind your ear....Stupid by the way. So when I saw him start to hassle you, I grabbed some cigarettes and took off...... and here we are. Now, you gonna light that joint?"
I looked at Dirt again. He raised an eyebrow at me and I pushed in the cigarette lighter as we sped off toward the falling sun and the wild wild west.
The copper, Dirt and I all turned just in time to see a young boy bolt out the door.
The casheir screamed at the cop, "Billy, you go stop that boy, he just took off with three packs a my cigarettes!"
"Billy" vapor locked for a coupla heartbeats, wanting to tell the old cashier not to talk to him like that, but not. With one last look at us, he took off after the kid.
I grabbed the joint, shoved it in my pocket, told Dirt to get us somethin to drink and went to the car. I'ws already a nervous freekin wreck. Fuck!
Billy's car was still parked next to the building. Now I wished I wouldn'ta told Dirt to get drinks so we could just get the fuck outta this little town 'fore Billy came back and remembered we looked funny.
My fingers drummed an impatient beat on the passenger door as I cursed Dirt for his lollygaggin and waited for Billy to show back up. But Dirt finally made it out to the car and we were off. And none to soon. I looked back and saw Deputy Billy stumble outta the alley and back into the store, alone....and pissed.
"Can you believe the balls on that kid?" Dirt laughed. "He stole those cigarettes right in fronta that cop." Dirt loved anyone who "had balls".
Two blocks down at a stop sign and outta view of the store, the kid came running out from between two old houses and dove head first into our backseat, bounced once off the seat and some bags we had in the back, twisted once on the bounce and plopped down into the floorboard.
Dirt and I both just stared, mouths open as we looked not at a young boy, but a very pretty young lady....dirty, but very pretty. She looked at us, we at her, Dirt and I at each other, and back to her. She looked at us with antipathy and said, "um, fucking drive." We looked at each other again with raised eyebrows, I shrugged and Dirt hit the gas.
We were soon outta town. We drove for a coupla minutes, nobody saying anything.....just driving.....After awkwardness had been firmly entrenched(Dirt and I were a little fucked up), she finally says, My name's Maya, gonna light that joint?"
Dirt and I looked at each other again. I turned to Maya and asked, "What're you talkin about?"
"Come on," Maya says, "I saw you guys go into the bathroom together and I was waiting for you guys to come out so I could see if I could catch a ride. That cop came in while you were in there and then I saw you come out with that joint behind your ear....Stupid by the way. So when I saw him start to hassle you, I grabbed some cigarettes and took off...... and here we are. Now, you gonna light that joint?"
I looked at Dirt again. He raised an eyebrow at me and I pushed in the cigarette lighter as we sped off toward the falling sun and the wild wild west.
TheJunkiesFaust#6(FTDParish)
The stereo was turned up full blast but the Alice In Chains battled the wind and road noise as we cruised west on US 64 in Dirty's old covertible. A huge boat of a car that got about 12 mpg highway....this trip was gonna cost us some cash.
Good thing we had some. We'd both been saving for over a year so we could do this. We had enough for gas, grub and a hotel room or two on the way and enough to rent an apartment, first months, last months and damage deposit and enough to live on til we got jobs and had some money coming in....pretty danged responsible if I do say so.
The top was down, the sun was out and Indiana was in the rearview mirror. Dirty was driving, I knew that if I didn't make him drive in the bginning, I'd end up driving the whole way. Dirt needed to drive first, before he got too fucked up and I got too scared to let him. We didn't need to be in jail somewhere in Nebraska or Wyoming for the lovva God. If I was lucky, he'd make it to almost Kansas City before I got too paranoid and had to make him let me drive.....but I'd take St. Louis and count it a win. That'd be the first 3 or 4 hours anyway.....4 down, a coupla days to go.
We were in a small, bumfuck town just east of St. Louis when Dirt decided it was time for a pit stop. The one bad thing about a convertible.....well, other than inclement weather, was not being able to do lines on the road. Unless you wanted to dust some prime Illinois farmland with a coupla hundred dollars wortha really quality coke anyway. Hence Dirt's desire to stop. I figured he'd probably make it to KC now, hell maybe even Iowa. Not that stopping to do the blow would help, but that this was the first time we'd stopped. I woulda put even money on us having stopped three times by now.
Dirt pulled into some Mom n Pop convenience store with not much traffic and went into the bathroom together. I double checked to make sure Dirt had locked the door. Dirt worked on the lines and I rolled a joint. While it's tough to roll on the road in a convertible, one can smoke a joint if one tries hard enough....huh.
Dirt finished first and rolled a bill outta his wallet so we could wiff the humongous lines he'd just cut out. So, that's how it was gonna be, less frequent stops, but gagglers when we did. I could probably do half of each of mine throughout the whole trip, putting back the other half for when we got there and still be coked to the gills all the way to the Pacific.....but probably not if I was to be honest with myself. That'd prolly be the smart thing to do, but I loved me some cocaine seeee. And Dirt would whine the whole time too. Prolly eventually, I'd have to cut back if I was gonna get us to Cali in one piece though.
But for now he went first as I tucked the joint behind my ear and rolled the bag back up and stuffed it down my shorts. Dirt did just like always, hoovered up that gigantinormous line all up one nostril. One big blast right up the old shnoz. He was gonna drown in his own saliva one of these times. Just numb up his google with a big blast and he'll have to stand on his head til he has an aneurism or wait til all his spit ends up in his lungs cause his swallower's all numbed up. Idiot. No holds barred for Dirt, boy. All or nothin. Now or never. I took mine half up one nostril(really a good sized line on it's own) and half up the other, then wiped up the rest off the white porcelin sink with my finger and rubbed it over my gums.
Upon walking out of the bathroom, my luck prevailed and a local copper was standing right there. And the genius that I am, I had forgotten the joint behind my ear, which I immediately remembered thankfully. And luckily he wasn't lookin my way quite yet so I was able to turn my head just in time. He instantly took notice of us. Dirt's long, long hair(Dirt looked almost like a native American, the long hair, tall, sharp features, dark. The girlies loved him) and us coming out of the bathroom together like that and now me trying to do anything to make it look natural, me keeping my head turned away from him so he wouldn't see the joint.
"Boys." the deputy says with a curt nod.
Good thing we had some. We'd both been saving for over a year so we could do this. We had enough for gas, grub and a hotel room or two on the way and enough to rent an apartment, first months, last months and damage deposit and enough to live on til we got jobs and had some money coming in....pretty danged responsible if I do say so.
The top was down, the sun was out and Indiana was in the rearview mirror. Dirty was driving, I knew that if I didn't make him drive in the bginning, I'd end up driving the whole way. Dirt needed to drive first, before he got too fucked up and I got too scared to let him. We didn't need to be in jail somewhere in Nebraska or Wyoming for the lovva God. If I was lucky, he'd make it to almost Kansas City before I got too paranoid and had to make him let me drive.....but I'd take St. Louis and count it a win. That'd be the first 3 or 4 hours anyway.....4 down, a coupla days to go.
We were in a small, bumfuck town just east of St. Louis when Dirt decided it was time for a pit stop. The one bad thing about a convertible.....well, other than inclement weather, was not being able to do lines on the road. Unless you wanted to dust some prime Illinois farmland with a coupla hundred dollars wortha really quality coke anyway. Hence Dirt's desire to stop. I figured he'd probably make it to KC now, hell maybe even Iowa. Not that stopping to do the blow would help, but that this was the first time we'd stopped. I woulda put even money on us having stopped three times by now.
Dirt pulled into some Mom n Pop convenience store with not much traffic and went into the bathroom together. I double checked to make sure Dirt had locked the door. Dirt worked on the lines and I rolled a joint. While it's tough to roll on the road in a convertible, one can smoke a joint if one tries hard enough....huh.
Dirt finished first and rolled a bill outta his wallet so we could wiff the humongous lines he'd just cut out. So, that's how it was gonna be, less frequent stops, but gagglers when we did. I could probably do half of each of mine throughout the whole trip, putting back the other half for when we got there and still be coked to the gills all the way to the Pacific.....but probably not if I was to be honest with myself. That'd prolly be the smart thing to do, but I loved me some cocaine seeee. And Dirt would whine the whole time too. Prolly eventually, I'd have to cut back if I was gonna get us to Cali in one piece though.
But for now he went first as I tucked the joint behind my ear and rolled the bag back up and stuffed it down my shorts. Dirt did just like always, hoovered up that gigantinormous line all up one nostril. One big blast right up the old shnoz. He was gonna drown in his own saliva one of these times. Just numb up his google with a big blast and he'll have to stand on his head til he has an aneurism or wait til all his spit ends up in his lungs cause his swallower's all numbed up. Idiot. No holds barred for Dirt, boy. All or nothin. Now or never. I took mine half up one nostril(really a good sized line on it's own) and half up the other, then wiped up the rest off the white porcelin sink with my finger and rubbed it over my gums.
Upon walking out of the bathroom, my luck prevailed and a local copper was standing right there. And the genius that I am, I had forgotten the joint behind my ear, which I immediately remembered thankfully. And luckily he wasn't lookin my way quite yet so I was able to turn my head just in time. He instantly took notice of us. Dirt's long, long hair(Dirt looked almost like a native American, the long hair, tall, sharp features, dark. The girlies loved him) and us coming out of the bathroom together like that and now me trying to do anything to make it look natural, me keeping my head turned away from him so he wouldn't see the joint.
"Boys." the deputy says with a curt nod.
Monday, February 26, 2007
TheUsefulIdiot...Commentary(FTDParish)
Now that I'm able to access the blog again, not sure what was up with that, I wanted to talk a little about this particular story line..............
I've explored this idea enough to know that I want to do a significant amount of research....biblical, historical, geographical, etc and then come hard, efforting to shape and form the story. Then I'll get more out as posts on this series.
In the meantime I'll continue with the Untitled series, which I have fleshed out more and have spent a significant amount of time on already. If I jump into the Idiot too soon I'll risk losing Untitled mojo. I probably shoulda resisted Finn's urgings to come out with it already. He asked for some more Untitled and I gave him the Idiot to keep him busy for awhile. He got so excited about the premise, I let him talk me into posting the roughs I had done. Now that it's posted and it'll be so long until I have more ready to post, I'm regretting giving in.
So, if you are interested in the Idiot series, hang tight. We'll get to that as soon as possible. And in the meantime, check out our favorite unnamed protagonist in our favorite untitled series, coming soon to a monitor in front of you.
- I'd like to make clear that this is a work of fiction.
- I'm not trying to change anyone's mind about their respective religiosity.
- I'm not maintaing this as gospel given me by God, archeological discovery, or otherwise.
- I'm not even positing that this is how it went down. It's just an interesting idea that I wanted to explore as a storyline. Although each premise is plausible based on already accepted reigious dogma and archeological findings.
- ie: Jesus did go to the desert and fast for "40 days and 40" nights, rebuffing the advances of Satan 3 times in the process.
- ie:A ship was discovered and excavated by archeologists, that ship did contain scrolls containing controversial content. Some of that content is at odds with the gospels in the New Testament.
- The tax collector Saul was converted after witnessing a bright light in the night sky while following Christians to Damascus. He then did carry on to Damascus and was baptised, changing his name to Paul and ministering the story of Jesus Christ of Nazareth.
- Jesus is from the Greek translation Jesu Christos. Christos, the Greek term for Messiah, literally the annoited one. Yehoshua is closer to what the Christ's name would've been at the time of his life, in the original Aramaic. Yeho=Yaweh shua=help/salvation. So from Yehoshua to the Hebrew Yeshua=to save, to the Greek Jesu.
- I'm not recruiting for Satan, God, Allah, L Ron Hubbard or anyone else.
- And I'm not profitting from this. Hell, I'm not even sure anybody besides Finn and Tuck are reading this.
I've explored this idea enough to know that I want to do a significant amount of research....biblical, historical, geographical, etc and then come hard, efforting to shape and form the story. Then I'll get more out as posts on this series.
In the meantime I'll continue with the Untitled series, which I have fleshed out more and have spent a significant amount of time on already. If I jump into the Idiot too soon I'll risk losing Untitled mojo. I probably shoulda resisted Finn's urgings to come out with it already. He asked for some more Untitled and I gave him the Idiot to keep him busy for awhile. He got so excited about the premise, I let him talk me into posting the roughs I had done. Now that it's posted and it'll be so long until I have more ready to post, I'm regretting giving in.
So, if you are interested in the Idiot series, hang tight. We'll get to that as soon as possible. And in the meantime, check out our favorite unnamed protagonist in our favorite untitled series, coming soon to a monitor in front of you.
TheUsefulIdiot#3(FTDParish)
Parish sent me this via e-mail. I guess he had some trouble accessing the blog for some reason, but here's #3 in the Useful Idiot series. As an aside, he related he's been working on the As Yet Untitled series also and expects to have some postings from that a little later. So here ya go, enjoy.
Finn
Earlier, before his public sacrifice, and before the events previously reported herein, Yehoshua was led by God into the desert, to fast and meditate about his upcoming challenges......
Yehoshua sat in the sunlight. The heat already becoming an issue, the rock where he sat was becoming uncomfortably warm. He'd have to move soon, find some shade or even he'd have trouble maintaining his concentration. And he'd been trained by the foremost Buddhist monks during his travels in the East.
Some student he was. Here he was thinking about the weather......
Ssshhheeeeeewwwww, he exhaled.
But in God's wisdom, the rock retained that heat and made sleeping more comfortable......
fffwwweeeeeeewwww, he inhaled......
Yehoshua's couldn't concentrate. Something felt wrong.
Lucifer smiled, relishing the "Son of God's" struggles, even if they were a pain in his immortal ass. Yehoshua's studies in the East had been abbreviated by the need for him to be back amongst his people. The time was at hand. Lucifer had had to persuade Yehoshua to come home early. Not Lucifer himself obviously. He'd had agents with Yehoshua since he was a child.
So Yehoshua's studies were incomplete. That made Lucifer's job a bit tougher. He'd much prefer to have Yehoshua able to take care of his own business, but things were what they were. He'd do what was necessary.
But right now he had some tempting to do. Yehoshua needed to be committed in his ministry....in God's work. Huhuh. God's work. And Lucifer knew just how to harden his resolve.
Lucifer had already been "a tempting" twice in the desert so far. This was his last "attempt" huhhuh huh. For the serpent of the pit, he sure made himself laugh alot. But anyway, the previous two times Yehoshua had rebuffed him, quoting from the Jew's book. Pompous fuck. Who was he to think he could quote written words from a text book and influence The Light Bringer. God's favorite.....well, favorite before the insurrection anyway.
Before the fall. Back when God still loved him.... Back when he still loved God. Back before God needed his little pets, those little hairless monkeys. When his heavenly host was still enough for him.......... God's little "pet" project. Genetic engineering on the supernatural level. Angels laying with "women".......Fuck! What was God thinking? Why love these meat puppets more than the first in creation? Why did they get a soul?
He'd had to do it. He'd had to speak up. The others had looked to him for leadership.....he was the favorite, he had to do something.
Then the outcome was inevitable. One didn't question the Almighty. Not even his favorite. Some followed him, believing they were in the right, most ran back to God when things got hot.....
But that was then, this is now. Back to business. Lucifer approached Yehoshua as he had the prior times, as a man of the desert, herding a flock of goats . Yehoshua maintained the outword appearance of serenity even though both he and Lucifer knew that he was seething at having to deal with the serpent yet again. Lucifer smiled inwardly, knowing he had him right where he wanted him.
Lucifer waited for Yehoshua to acknowledge his presense. He had all day.
After an intermittably long time, Yehoshua could no longer take it. He slowly "came up out of his trance" even though he knew Lucifer knew it was all sham. He wasn't gonna give the fallen angel the satisfaction of seeing him upset.
Yehoshua, politely spoke to Lucifer, "Weary traveller, I have no food or water to share with you today."
"Sustenance isn't what I seek here, Son of God. I come one last time to offer you dominion. Absolute power over this world. Join me and we can shake the foundations of creation. You and I ruling eternity side by side."
"Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Get back Satan. I have no use for you or your promises of power. I give myself to my God, to do his will, not yours." Yehoshua declared calmly.
Lucifer pretended pain and shrank away from the young rabbi as he quoted more writings of the Jewish scholars. He shrugged out of his robes, spreading his wings, he produced himself in his full glory for Yehoshua's benefit as his "herd of goats" fell apart into their baser components, scorpions, beatles, lizards, snakes and the like, and scurried for cover, happy to get away from the maleovelant presense and out of the searing desert sun.
"This was my last offer "Messiah"", he shrieked mockingly, as he flew upward like nothing Yehoshua had seen before, disappearing into the sun.
Finn
Earlier, before his public sacrifice, and before the events previously reported herein, Yehoshua was led by God into the desert, to fast and meditate about his upcoming challenges......
Yehoshua sat in the sunlight. The heat already becoming an issue, the rock where he sat was becoming uncomfortably warm. He'd have to move soon, find some shade or even he'd have trouble maintaining his concentration. And he'd been trained by the foremost Buddhist monks during his travels in the East.
Some student he was. Here he was thinking about the weather......
Ssshhheeeeeewwwww, he exhaled.
But in God's wisdom, the rock retained that heat and made sleeping more comfortable......
fffwwweeeeeeewwww, he inhaled......
Yehoshua's couldn't concentrate. Something felt wrong.
Lucifer smiled, relishing the "Son of God's" struggles, even if they were a pain in his immortal ass. Yehoshua's studies in the East had been abbreviated by the need for him to be back amongst his people. The time was at hand. Lucifer had had to persuade Yehoshua to come home early. Not Lucifer himself obviously. He'd had agents with Yehoshua since he was a child.
So Yehoshua's studies were incomplete. That made Lucifer's job a bit tougher. He'd much prefer to have Yehoshua able to take care of his own business, but things were what they were. He'd do what was necessary.
But right now he had some tempting to do. Yehoshua needed to be committed in his ministry....in God's work. Huhuh. God's work. And Lucifer knew just how to harden his resolve.
Lucifer had already been "a tempting" twice in the desert so far. This was his last "attempt" huhhuh huh. For the serpent of the pit, he sure made himself laugh alot. But anyway, the previous two times Yehoshua had rebuffed him, quoting from the Jew's book. Pompous fuck. Who was he to think he could quote written words from a text book and influence The Light Bringer. God's favorite.....well, favorite before the insurrection anyway.
Before the fall. Back when God still loved him.... Back when he still loved God. Back before God needed his little pets, those little hairless monkeys. When his heavenly host was still enough for him.......... God's little "pet" project. Genetic engineering on the supernatural level. Angels laying with "women".......Fuck! What was God thinking? Why love these meat puppets more than the first in creation? Why did they get a soul?
He'd had to do it. He'd had to speak up. The others had looked to him for leadership.....he was the favorite, he had to do something.
Then the outcome was inevitable. One didn't question the Almighty. Not even his favorite. Some followed him, believing they were in the right, most ran back to God when things got hot.....
But that was then, this is now. Back to business. Lucifer approached Yehoshua as he had the prior times, as a man of the desert, herding a flock of goats . Yehoshua maintained the outword appearance of serenity even though both he and Lucifer knew that he was seething at having to deal with the serpent yet again. Lucifer smiled inwardly, knowing he had him right where he wanted him.
Lucifer waited for Yehoshua to acknowledge his presense. He had all day.
After an intermittably long time, Yehoshua could no longer take it. He slowly "came up out of his trance" even though he knew Lucifer knew it was all sham. He wasn't gonna give the fallen angel the satisfaction of seeing him upset.
Yehoshua, politely spoke to Lucifer, "Weary traveller, I have no food or water to share with you today."
"Sustenance isn't what I seek here, Son of God. I come one last time to offer you dominion. Absolute power over this world. Join me and we can shake the foundations of creation. You and I ruling eternity side by side."
"Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Get back Satan. I have no use for you or your promises of power. I give myself to my God, to do his will, not yours." Yehoshua declared calmly.
Lucifer pretended pain and shrank away from the young rabbi as he quoted more writings of the Jewish scholars. He shrugged out of his robes, spreading his wings, he produced himself in his full glory for Yehoshua's benefit as his "herd of goats" fell apart into their baser components, scorpions, beatles, lizards, snakes and the like, and scurried for cover, happy to get away from the maleovelant presense and out of the searing desert sun.
"This was my last offer "Messiah"", he shrieked mockingly, as he flew upward like nothing Yehoshua had seen before, disappearing into the sun.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
TheUsefulIdiot#2(FTDParish)
A dirty little man hurries through the streets, clutching his robes close to his neck, eyes darting ever watchful, twitchy. He feels the scrolls on the skin of his chest across his stomach and down to his side, they, protruding slightly against the back right side of his clothes when he strides forward with his left foot.
He's sweating profusely despite the cool breeze that is preceding the storm. He mumbles to himself as he eyes the passersby warily.... and they he. He has to get to the dock before the boat launches. The angel would be very angry if the boat left without him. The androgenous heavenly body had said as much.
Thinking about the fiery eyes of the angel made the wealthy, albeit haggared and filthy, merchant forget where he was. He runs headlong into a large man who was talking angrily to his servants. The servants drop their master's new purchases bringing on a new and redoubled tirade from the large merchant.
The haggard little man hops up quickly. Apologizing profusely, keeping his head down and his voice low. He backs away, thinking, hoping, that he'd be able to back himself around the corner and away before the the wealthy man stops berating his poor servants and recognizes him. He has no time to lose.
The large man stops yelling and turns slowly, thinking something is wrong here. He looks for the human filth that had run into him, checking his robes for his valuables. Their eyes meet just as the little man makes one last glance back before he rounds the corner. Recognition flashes on the merchant's face, "But no. That's impossible". That couldn't be Yusef. That man is of the street. A beggar. He hasn't seen Yusef for some weeks, but they've done business for years. And the eyes, the eyes are the same....but haunted.
Yusef runs faster now, yelling for people to clear the way. The storm is coming. Yusef couldn't believe any shipman would take his ship out in a storm like this one promised to be, but the angel had said the boat would leave before the storm. Yusef didn't harbor any doubts as to the angel's knowledge. The storm was alomost here, he must hurry.
The shipman bellows at the stranger through the wind, "I won't take my ship out in this. I have a family and a crew to think about."
The stranger says calmly, "double your fee," from inside his hood.
"I won't do it," says the shipman, less sure now that the stranger is doubling an already good commision. He struggles with his responsibilities and his greed. The stranger waits calmly, power radiating from him to the shipman imperceptibly. The shipman's resolve wavers. The stranger can feel it like a light breeze on his face.
The time is now. "Triple it shipman. Just put this ship into the wind. I have business that cannot wait," the stranger says more loudly as he throws a hide bag full of gold coin at the shipman.
That's too much for the businessman as he snatches the pouch one handed and feels the weight of it and quickly hides it in the folds of his robes. Danger or no, triple an already steep commission is too much to pass up. Besides, he was a little afraid of the stranger and didn't want to anger him.
"Prepare to launch the ship." The shipman yells into the wind. His crew hesitates in disbelief for a second and the shipman veritably roars, "I SAID NOW."
The crew jumps to just as dirty little Yusef reaches the boat. He is pulled aboard, the lines are cast off as the rain starts to pelt the crew and their two passengers. The sails are hoisted and the small ship snaps into the wind.
The stranger nods approvingly to little Yusef who in turn grins, happy to not have angered the angel. Did the shipman know whom he carried onboard his ship this terrible night? Yusef thought not. He hunkered down in the lee of some cargo trying to get out of the rain just a bit. It was raining so hard.
Those subtle waves of power now focus on Yusef who quickly closes his eyes and falls asleep, the scrolls falling out of his grasp, out of the bottom of his robes and rolling toward a bundle of skins that oppurtunistically shift just as the scroll bumps it, hiding the scrolls from view.
The storm picks up even more. The shipman doesn't see how this is possible. This is the worst storm he's ever seen. All his skills and the skills of his crew are the only thing keeping the ship afloat. He's scared now and wishes vehemetly that he'd never met the stranger. Wishing his better judgement had overruled his greed.
The shipman hears a voice just behind him, he wheels. It's the stranger, he thanks the shipman mockingly and slowly dissolves into the storm as the shipman looks on terrified. The ship lists hard to port. A huge wave crashes over the side tumbling ship and crew under the waves. The shipman's last thought's are of his wife and children, they'll never know that he'd sold his and his crew's lives to a fallen angel for a nice commission. Yusef dies under the raging seas without ever knowing he was dying.
The scrolls will remain hidden in the muddy bottom for a couple of thousand years. Until the time is right for them to be found.
He's sweating profusely despite the cool breeze that is preceding the storm. He mumbles to himself as he eyes the passersby warily.... and they he. He has to get to the dock before the boat launches. The angel would be very angry if the boat left without him. The androgenous heavenly body had said as much.
Thinking about the fiery eyes of the angel made the wealthy, albeit haggared and filthy, merchant forget where he was. He runs headlong into a large man who was talking angrily to his servants. The servants drop their master's new purchases bringing on a new and redoubled tirade from the large merchant.
The haggard little man hops up quickly. Apologizing profusely, keeping his head down and his voice low. He backs away, thinking, hoping, that he'd be able to back himself around the corner and away before the the wealthy man stops berating his poor servants and recognizes him. He has no time to lose.
The large man stops yelling and turns slowly, thinking something is wrong here. He looks for the human filth that had run into him, checking his robes for his valuables. Their eyes meet just as the little man makes one last glance back before he rounds the corner. Recognition flashes on the merchant's face, "But no. That's impossible". That couldn't be Yusef. That man is of the street. A beggar. He hasn't seen Yusef for some weeks, but they've done business for years. And the eyes, the eyes are the same....but haunted.
Yusef runs faster now, yelling for people to clear the way. The storm is coming. Yusef couldn't believe any shipman would take his ship out in a storm like this one promised to be, but the angel had said the boat would leave before the storm. Yusef didn't harbor any doubts as to the angel's knowledge. The storm was alomost here, he must hurry.
The shipman bellows at the stranger through the wind, "I won't take my ship out in this. I have a family and a crew to think about."
The stranger says calmly, "double your fee," from inside his hood.
"I won't do it," says the shipman, less sure now that the stranger is doubling an already good commision. He struggles with his responsibilities and his greed. The stranger waits calmly, power radiating from him to the shipman imperceptibly. The shipman's resolve wavers. The stranger can feel it like a light breeze on his face.
The time is now. "Triple it shipman. Just put this ship into the wind. I have business that cannot wait," the stranger says more loudly as he throws a hide bag full of gold coin at the shipman.
That's too much for the businessman as he snatches the pouch one handed and feels the weight of it and quickly hides it in the folds of his robes. Danger or no, triple an already steep commission is too much to pass up. Besides, he was a little afraid of the stranger and didn't want to anger him.
"Prepare to launch the ship." The shipman yells into the wind. His crew hesitates in disbelief for a second and the shipman veritably roars, "I SAID NOW."
The crew jumps to just as dirty little Yusef reaches the boat. He is pulled aboard, the lines are cast off as the rain starts to pelt the crew and their two passengers. The sails are hoisted and the small ship snaps into the wind.
The stranger nods approvingly to little Yusef who in turn grins, happy to not have angered the angel. Did the shipman know whom he carried onboard his ship this terrible night? Yusef thought not. He hunkered down in the lee of some cargo trying to get out of the rain just a bit. It was raining so hard.
Those subtle waves of power now focus on Yusef who quickly closes his eyes and falls asleep, the scrolls falling out of his grasp, out of the bottom of his robes and rolling toward a bundle of skins that oppurtunistically shift just as the scroll bumps it, hiding the scrolls from view.
The storm picks up even more. The shipman doesn't see how this is possible. This is the worst storm he's ever seen. All his skills and the skills of his crew are the only thing keeping the ship afloat. He's scared now and wishes vehemetly that he'd never met the stranger. Wishing his better judgement had overruled his greed.
The shipman hears a voice just behind him, he wheels. It's the stranger, he thanks the shipman mockingly and slowly dissolves into the storm as the shipman looks on terrified. The ship lists hard to port. A huge wave crashes over the side tumbling ship and crew under the waves. The shipman's last thought's are of his wife and children, they'll never know that he'd sold his and his crew's lives to a fallen angel for a nice commission. Yusef dies under the raging seas without ever knowing he was dying.
The scrolls will remain hidden in the muddy bottom for a couple of thousand years. Until the time is right for them to be found.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
TheUsefulIdiot#1(FTDParish)
This is the last material Parish sent me before we gave him access to post on his own. I notice he's started, thanks for that, so I thought I'd go ahead and post this to clear my outbox and leave the rest to him.
One piece of info I'd like to pass on is that a useful idiot for our purposes here is someone being used by the CIA for their purposes w/out that person knowing they're being used. So, there's that for what it's worth.
So, it's my understanding that this is just a testing of the water. A drop in the proverbial bucket. A teaser of what's to come. I'm interested to see what comes of this myself. So here we go.....
"The Useful Idiot" #1
It was a dark night. No moon, but stars sparkled in the firmament. Saul laid on the rocky ground, his head on a bundle of utilitarian cloth. He deserved better. He was a representative of the empire. Yet here he lay, no tent to cover him, only a blanket or two between the ground...the elements and himself. If they would've just given him more time to prepare for this journey. They were the empire, they understood logistics. Logistics is what made it possible to manage an empire this size, with so many different cultures absorbed. So many different peoples.
His thoughts travelled to the people he followed. This ragtag band of criminals. Beggars. All lazy. All having left their former lives and incomes behind. Followers of the dead stone mason turned rabbi and rebel Yehoshua ben Yosef. Now, with him dead, crucified on Golgotha, they continued his ministry. There was already infighting and backstabbing among them. Scrambling to fill the power void left after Yehoshua's public humiliation and death. His brother, His wife, Peter, the others, all fighting, but all still ministering and spreading the seed.
Saul's eyes were fluttering with the onset of sleep. It had been a long and dusty day....weren't they all? And Saul needed to get to sleep so he could get an early start after the prey, he knew they would be moving early, in a hurry to get to Damascus to disseminate their retoric of the Jews Messiah. Saul, being what he was, was not a well-liked man, but he slept soundly at night with the arrogance and ignorance of being on the side of the powerful and therefore always right.
Saul's eyes, half open, discerned a subtle change in the starlight. A soft, vague light gave way to a brighter and harsher glare and still it came until an unbelievably white hot light filled the sky above his small camp. The heat setting his belongings to smoldering. He sheilded his eyes from the angel's brilliace as it slowly descended, wings outspread. Incredibly far off, Saul heard his two donkey's screaming as they ran into the night....away from the light.
Saul wept, for he knew his mistakes....his sins and begged God and his heavenly host for forgiveness. Saul repented his sins, accepted Yehoshua as his salvation and as the prophesied Messiah of the Jews. The angel told him he would continue on to Damascus and be baptised in the fashion of the Messiah's cousin, who's head was lost to the whims of a girl. The angel told him he would be known thence forth as Paul.
And then Saul slept.
Lucifer, "The Light Bringer" watched the sleeping Saul. He couldn't let an unforseen accident befall Christianity's newest minister now. This would take millenia, but the payoff was worth it, the whole of all human souls, past, present and future, the game pieces and prize in Lucifer's fued with he whom the Jews call Yahweh.
One piece of info I'd like to pass on is that a useful idiot for our purposes here is someone being used by the CIA for their purposes w/out that person knowing they're being used. So, there's that for what it's worth.
So, it's my understanding that this is just a testing of the water. A drop in the proverbial bucket. A teaser of what's to come. I'm interested to see what comes of this myself. So here we go.....
"The Useful Idiot" #1
It was a dark night. No moon, but stars sparkled in the firmament. Saul laid on the rocky ground, his head on a bundle of utilitarian cloth. He deserved better. He was a representative of the empire. Yet here he lay, no tent to cover him, only a blanket or two between the ground...the elements and himself. If they would've just given him more time to prepare for this journey. They were the empire, they understood logistics. Logistics is what made it possible to manage an empire this size, with so many different cultures absorbed. So many different peoples.
His thoughts travelled to the people he followed. This ragtag band of criminals. Beggars. All lazy. All having left their former lives and incomes behind. Followers of the dead stone mason turned rabbi and rebel Yehoshua ben Yosef. Now, with him dead, crucified on Golgotha, they continued his ministry. There was already infighting and backstabbing among them. Scrambling to fill the power void left after Yehoshua's public humiliation and death. His brother, His wife, Peter, the others, all fighting, but all still ministering and spreading the seed.
Saul's eyes were fluttering with the onset of sleep. It had been a long and dusty day....weren't they all? And Saul needed to get to sleep so he could get an early start after the prey, he knew they would be moving early, in a hurry to get to Damascus to disseminate their retoric of the Jews Messiah. Saul, being what he was, was not a well-liked man, but he slept soundly at night with the arrogance and ignorance of being on the side of the powerful and therefore always right.
Saul's eyes, half open, discerned a subtle change in the starlight. A soft, vague light gave way to a brighter and harsher glare and still it came until an unbelievably white hot light filled the sky above his small camp. The heat setting his belongings to smoldering. He sheilded his eyes from the angel's brilliace as it slowly descended, wings outspread. Incredibly far off, Saul heard his two donkey's screaming as they ran into the night....away from the light.
Saul wept, for he knew his mistakes....his sins and begged God and his heavenly host for forgiveness. Saul repented his sins, accepted Yehoshua as his salvation and as the prophesied Messiah of the Jews. The angel told him he would continue on to Damascus and be baptised in the fashion of the Messiah's cousin, who's head was lost to the whims of a girl. The angel told him he would be known thence forth as Paul.
And then Saul slept.
Lucifer, "The Light Bringer" watched the sleeping Saul. He couldn't let an unforseen accident befall Christianity's newest minister now. This would take millenia, but the payoff was worth it, the whole of all human souls, past, present and future, the game pieces and prize in Lucifer's fued with he whom the Jews call Yahweh.
AnArticalFromKeelyNet
The following is an article taken entirely from KeelyNet. KeelyNet can be accessed from the link in the Ingredients section of The Oven. Another article Tuck and I found interesting was "Global Warming: It's All About Energy". Please check out the whole of KeelyNet for yourself as there are several really good/informative reads just on the main page. Some other titles of interest....."Auditors Say Billions Wasted In Iraq", "Maher:Bush is Gilligan who can't find his a--", "Anti-Terror Cases Falsly Inflated" and there's a nice link to receive a free copy of Al Gore's "An Inconvenient Truth".
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"Making Martial Law Easier"
A disturbing recent phenomenon in Washington is that laws that strike to the heart of American democracy have been passed in the dead of night. So it was with a provision quietly tucked into the enormous defense budget bill at the Bush administration’s behest that makes it easier for a president to override local control of law enforcement and declare martial law. The provision, signed into law in October, weakens two obscure but important bulwarks of liberty. One is the doctrine that bars military forces, including a federalized National Guard, from engaging in law enforcement. Called posse comitatus, it was enshrined in law after the Civil War to preserve the line between civil government and the military. The other is the Insurrection Act of 1807, which provides the major exemptions to posse comitatus. It essentially limits a president’s use of the military in law enforcement to putting down lawlessness, insurrection and rebellion, where a state is violating federal law or depriving people of constitutional rights. The newly enacted provisions upset this careful balance. They shift the focus from making sure that federal laws are enforced to restoring public order. Beyond cases of actual insurrection, the president may now use military troops as a domestic police force in response to a natural disaster, a disease outbreak, terrorist attack or to any “other condition.” These new presidential powers were slipped into the law without hearings or public debate. The president made no mention of the changes when he signed the measure, and neither the White House nor Congress consulted in advance with the nation’s governors. There is a bipartisan bill, introduced by Senators Patrick Leahy, Democrat of Vermont, and Christopher Bond, Republican of Missouri, and backed unanimously by the nation’s governors, that would repeal the stealthy revisions. Congress should pass it. If changes of this kind are proposed in the future, they must get a full and open debate.
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I don't know about you, but a lobbyist, some representatives, the president....whoever, being able to add ANYTHING onto a piece of legislation "in the dark of night" is reprehensible. Do you understand the process here? A piece of legislation is written, studied(theoretically), argued etc until it is ready to be signed in if enough support within the respective branch is garnered. Now here comes the good part....AFTER the legislation is agreed upon by the proper majority, someone???? is able to come along and ADD THINGS TO SAID LEGISLATION before it is passed on to the next body or signed into law....w/out gooing back through the system to have the additions vetted. That's just not me right? That's fucked up right?
Will there come a time when we as a people raise our voices collectively and DEMAND that politics as usual IS NOT ok with us? Will we ever demand integrity from our representation or is it really a government of the corporation, by the corporation and for the corporation?
Is it too late? Is our system too far gone? Will America be able to hold the moral high ground again internationally? Is this how we want the rest of the world to view us? Is there really half of my country that doesn't see a problem here? Is it too late?
Finn
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"Making Martial Law Easier"
A disturbing recent phenomenon in Washington is that laws that strike to the heart of American democracy have been passed in the dead of night. So it was with a provision quietly tucked into the enormous defense budget bill at the Bush administration’s behest that makes it easier for a president to override local control of law enforcement and declare martial law. The provision, signed into law in October, weakens two obscure but important bulwarks of liberty. One is the doctrine that bars military forces, including a federalized National Guard, from engaging in law enforcement. Called posse comitatus, it was enshrined in law after the Civil War to preserve the line between civil government and the military. The other is the Insurrection Act of 1807, which provides the major exemptions to posse comitatus. It essentially limits a president’s use of the military in law enforcement to putting down lawlessness, insurrection and rebellion, where a state is violating federal law or depriving people of constitutional rights. The newly enacted provisions upset this careful balance. They shift the focus from making sure that federal laws are enforced to restoring public order. Beyond cases of actual insurrection, the president may now use military troops as a domestic police force in response to a natural disaster, a disease outbreak, terrorist attack or to any “other condition.” These new presidential powers were slipped into the law without hearings or public debate. The president made no mention of the changes when he signed the measure, and neither the White House nor Congress consulted in advance with the nation’s governors. There is a bipartisan bill, introduced by Senators Patrick Leahy, Democrat of Vermont, and Christopher Bond, Republican of Missouri, and backed unanimously by the nation’s governors, that would repeal the stealthy revisions. Congress should pass it. If changes of this kind are proposed in the future, they must get a full and open debate.
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I don't know about you, but a lobbyist, some representatives, the president....whoever, being able to add ANYTHING onto a piece of legislation "in the dark of night" is reprehensible. Do you understand the process here? A piece of legislation is written, studied(theoretically), argued etc until it is ready to be signed in if enough support within the respective branch is garnered. Now here comes the good part....AFTER the legislation is agreed upon by the proper majority, someone???? is able to come along and ADD THINGS TO SAID LEGISLATION before it is passed on to the next body or signed into law....w/out gooing back through the system to have the additions vetted. That's just not me right? That's fucked up right?
Will there come a time when we as a people raise our voices collectively and DEMAND that politics as usual IS NOT ok with us? Will we ever demand integrity from our representation or is it really a government of the corporation, by the corporation and for the corporation?
Is it too late? Is our system too far gone? Will America be able to hold the moral high ground again internationally? Is this how we want the rest of the world to view us? Is there really half of my country that doesn't see a problem here? Is it too late?
Finn
Reflections(FTDParish)
The night was clear in it's intention to conceal.
Glowing amber waves,
Glowing ember ash.
A death wish?
A goodnight kiss.
Through the window I see darkness.
Through the window I see desperation.
Through the window I see me.
Glowing amber waves,
Glowing ember ash.
A death wish?
A goodnight kiss.
Through the window I see darkness.
Through the window I see desperation.
Through the window I see me.
HelloAndAStory.....MyLovely(FTDParish)
I'm now able to access The Oven directly rather than submitting my stories to Finn, then he posting them. So to begin with I'd like to tell you that there is more "As Yet Untitled" coming, but right now I'd like to share a short story with you. Then, later, I'll finish chapter 2 and get it out....or I'll share another story then I'll get back to chapter 2. That's one of the attractions of producing work in this format. No money fer sure, but no restraints either. So here we go........
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My lovely new bride lay in our bed. Her hair spread out around her like a halo.....as if she were underwater, with her hair floating, framing her lovely face, her fine bone structure and soft features, a timeless beauty that glowed through her flawless skin, radient even in sleep. And God help you if she turned her smiling, sparkling eyes on you when she was awake. You'd do anything to make her look at you like that again.......anything.
The soft warm light creeping into the bedroom from the nightlight behind me she insisted we keep on in the bathroom so she wouldn't stub her toes stumbling sleepily to pee in the middle of the night. Or so she said, I just think she's afraid of the dark.
She's beautiful beyond measure, she's also strong, intelligent, funny, quick to anger at injustice and impossible to restrain once she got her teeth into something. I lay down beside her wondering what I'd done or was supposed to do, that God deemed me worthy of a woman such as she.
Waiting for sleep to come for me again.....wishing again that she didn't need that damned nightlight. I'm a very light sleeper and even that insignificant light caused me some sleeplessness on occasion. As I waited for blissful oblivion, hopefully til morning, big meeting tomorrow, early, so I needed my beauty sleep, I imagined our future together, my lovely and me.
We'd live life to the fullest, taking the days and nights aggresively. Living, loving. Then when we were ready, we'd leave the city and get a house in the country. Maybe start a little business, write, dabble in the market....whatever, and start a family. My lovely wanted a big family, so a houseful of kids she'd have. We were still young, we both made really good money, so within a coupla years, we'd be ab....
What's that? I swipe behind my ear. Feels like a bug......There again, on my cheek. I feel it with my fingers on that swipe. Now more.
Lotsa little legs running all over my feet, legs, arms, hands....face. I reach for the light and feel some fall down the back of my T-shirt. Crawling over my legs and up my basketball shorts. I finally get to the light switch. I want to scream, to wake my lovely wife, knowing she'll freak. Oh how she'll scream. It'll break my heart. My throat however is closed, choked with fear.
I turn the switch, first click 40 watts, spiders everywhere on the floor and nightstand. Second click 60 watts, I turn toward my lovely, spiders all over the bed, swarming over the comforter she picked out, she has really great taste. Third click 100 watts, I see her now.
My lovely. Sitting up in bed, the comforter around her waist, her hair undulating as spiders scurry underneath. I look into her eyes. They're black....all black, and shiny. Her mouth opens and spiders fall out, down her chest, some clinging to the silk nightgown covering her perfect breasts. Her head turns slowly towards me. It keeps turning until it rips and tipping backward, tumbles down her chest, in and out of her lap and off the bed and onto the floor. It rolls out of my view as the spiders continue to spew from the ragged stump where her head use to be. It's not as wet as I imagined it would be be.......
The room darkens and tilts. I realize I'm passing out. I feel the spiders crawling over me........into me, as the darkness overcomes me, "My lovely."
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My lovely new bride lay in our bed. Her hair spread out around her like a halo.....as if she were underwater, with her hair floating, framing her lovely face, her fine bone structure and soft features, a timeless beauty that glowed through her flawless skin, radient even in sleep. And God help you if she turned her smiling, sparkling eyes on you when she was awake. You'd do anything to make her look at you like that again.......anything.
The soft warm light creeping into the bedroom from the nightlight behind me she insisted we keep on in the bathroom so she wouldn't stub her toes stumbling sleepily to pee in the middle of the night. Or so she said, I just think she's afraid of the dark.
She's beautiful beyond measure, she's also strong, intelligent, funny, quick to anger at injustice and impossible to restrain once she got her teeth into something. I lay down beside her wondering what I'd done or was supposed to do, that God deemed me worthy of a woman such as she.
Waiting for sleep to come for me again.....wishing again that she didn't need that damned nightlight. I'm a very light sleeper and even that insignificant light caused me some sleeplessness on occasion. As I waited for blissful oblivion, hopefully til morning, big meeting tomorrow, early, so I needed my beauty sleep, I imagined our future together, my lovely and me.
We'd live life to the fullest, taking the days and nights aggresively. Living, loving. Then when we were ready, we'd leave the city and get a house in the country. Maybe start a little business, write, dabble in the market....whatever, and start a family. My lovely wanted a big family, so a houseful of kids she'd have. We were still young, we both made really good money, so within a coupla years, we'd be ab....
What's that? I swipe behind my ear. Feels like a bug......There again, on my cheek. I feel it with my fingers on that swipe. Now more.
Lotsa little legs running all over my feet, legs, arms, hands....face. I reach for the light and feel some fall down the back of my T-shirt. Crawling over my legs and up my basketball shorts. I finally get to the light switch. I want to scream, to wake my lovely wife, knowing she'll freak. Oh how she'll scream. It'll break my heart. My throat however is closed, choked with fear.
I turn the switch, first click 40 watts, spiders everywhere on the floor and nightstand. Second click 60 watts, I turn toward my lovely, spiders all over the bed, swarming over the comforter she picked out, she has really great taste. Third click 100 watts, I see her now.
My lovely. Sitting up in bed, the comforter around her waist, her hair undulating as spiders scurry underneath. I look into her eyes. They're black....all black, and shiny. Her mouth opens and spiders fall out, down her chest, some clinging to the silk nightgown covering her perfect breasts. Her head turns slowly towards me. It keeps turning until it rips and tipping backward, tumbles down her chest, in and out of her lap and off the bed and onto the floor. It rolls out of my view as the spiders continue to spew from the ragged stump where her head use to be. It's not as wet as I imagined it would be be.......
The room darkens and tilts. I realize I'm passing out. I feel the spiders crawling over me........into me, as the darkness overcomes me, "My lovely."
OutstandingJudgeOfCharacter
In an earlier post, I lamented the recent passing of one of my inspirations, Robert Anton Wilson. I(thanks be to Tuck) possess an eight tape collection of live appearances and interview material. Titled "Robert Anton Wilson Explains Everything" or (Old Bob Exposes His Ignorance) distributed by Sounds True PO Box 8010 Boulder Colorado 80306 www.soundstrue.com. They also have a toll free number you can call 800-333-9185. I don't work for them or anything, just trying to help out. You and them.
Occasionally I listen to this collection as I'm driving. Especially if it's gonna be a long ride sans familial unit. All the better to emmerse oneself......with...in, whatever. Recently I had the oppurtunity to listen to Bob on a trip to the orthopedist. A moderately lengthy drive taken with only me, myself and Bob.....and the nice interviewer guy.
I listened as Bob talked about his relationship with Dr Timothy Leary. And about Leary's last days and Bob's last conversation with him and wanted to share a small part with you. The collection includes 9 hours of audio, so you just get a coupla seconds from me.
As I don't have a cassette player right here, and I'm too lazy to go listen to it in the car right now, I'll paraphrase....
As Leary lays in the hospital while he and everyone knows he's dying, Bob says to him,"Tim, I've met Buckmister Fuller, and I think you're the smartest person I've ever met. And I've met George Carlin and I think you're the funniest person I've ever met."
Leary looks at Bob with a grin on his face despite his impending demise in who knew how many weeks/days/hours and says, "Bob, I think you're an outstanding judge of character."
On the tape, Bob refers to that as his favorite Leary story, quickly qualifing that by saying he has two favorite Leary stories and relating the following....
A month or so after Leary's death, Bob received an e-mail from him. The e-mail contained basically the following message, "Dear Robert, all is well here although it's not exactly what I expected....too crowded. Tim."
Bob considered it an honor that Leary would go to the trouble to send that message, whether through spiritual means or by technical setup prior to his passing.
Well, Bob's been gone a while now and I have yet to receive a message from him via internet or other means. This is probably due to the fact that I'd never met Bob and I'm gonna assume he never knew I existed.
Although I do get the idea that one should never assume too many things in relation to Robert Anton Wilson.
But Bob, if you're running around out there in the aether and monitoring the world wide web(Bob also speaks of the internet and how it's gonna effect people in the present and future on the 9 hour collection), I'm waiting. And I'll consider it an honor....and a little weird.
Finn
Occasionally I listen to this collection as I'm driving. Especially if it's gonna be a long ride sans familial unit. All the better to emmerse oneself......with...in, whatever. Recently I had the oppurtunity to listen to Bob on a trip to the orthopedist. A moderately lengthy drive taken with only me, myself and Bob.....and the nice interviewer guy.
I listened as Bob talked about his relationship with Dr Timothy Leary. And about Leary's last days and Bob's last conversation with him and wanted to share a small part with you. The collection includes 9 hours of audio, so you just get a coupla seconds from me.
As I don't have a cassette player right here, and I'm too lazy to go listen to it in the car right now, I'll paraphrase....
As Leary lays in the hospital while he and everyone knows he's dying, Bob says to him,"Tim, I've met Buckmister Fuller, and I think you're the smartest person I've ever met. And I've met George Carlin and I think you're the funniest person I've ever met."
Leary looks at Bob with a grin on his face despite his impending demise in who knew how many weeks/days/hours and says, "Bob, I think you're an outstanding judge of character."
On the tape, Bob refers to that as his favorite Leary story, quickly qualifing that by saying he has two favorite Leary stories and relating the following....
A month or so after Leary's death, Bob received an e-mail from him. The e-mail contained basically the following message, "Dear Robert, all is well here although it's not exactly what I expected....too crowded. Tim."
Bob considered it an honor that Leary would go to the trouble to send that message, whether through spiritual means or by technical setup prior to his passing.
Well, Bob's been gone a while now and I have yet to receive a message from him via internet or other means. This is probably due to the fact that I'd never met Bob and I'm gonna assume he never knew I existed.
Although I do get the idea that one should never assume too many things in relation to Robert Anton Wilson.
But Bob, if you're running around out there in the aether and monitoring the world wide web(Bob also speaks of the internet and how it's gonna effect people in the present and future on the 9 hour collection), I'm waiting. And I'll consider it an honor....and a little weird.
Finn
Monday, February 19, 2007
It'sNotLikeIDidn'tAlreadyKnow
I've been reading Bob Woodward's book "State Of Denial". I knew....I think most of us knew, just how FUBAR'ed this whole liberate Iraq thing was from the get, but to have everything and more that we thought about this administration at the highest levels affirmed by an investigator like Woodward is still somewhat shocking. Some really smart people....and Bush, got this thing wrong. Really wrong.
I'm only a bit in, but it's obvious...er, what a control freak/ego maniac Rummy was/is.
How clueless Bush was/is.
How unprepared for her job(s) Ms. Rice was/is.
How sneaky/lowdown Cheney was/is.
How fucked/outnumbered Powell was.
How impotent Myers was.
How dedicated/ Abizad was/is.
How fucked/mistaken Tenet was.
How overwhelmed all the planners under the cabal were.
How misled all of us were.
How easy it is to flanaggle congress.
It makes me wonder...
How half the country voted for this guy(administration)....TWICE!
How they thought/convinced each other they were prepared for this.
How Bush had the NERVE to stand in front of that mission accomplished banner.
How they(Condi) didn't listen to Tenet and Black.
How noone bothered to ask Spider Marks what he thought about the 900+ WMD sites?
How so many jr members of the planning commitees seemingly knew we were FUBAR'ed.
How could Daddy Bush just stay outta Jr's way like that? Why not come to him as a former President and not as a father, and explain how wrong he had it and how badly astray Cheney was leading him?
How could Jr NOT ask his dad for guidance?
How could W NOT ask anyone anything relavent that woulda given another view to what was or ws getting ready to, before or after "the war" was over and nation building had begun.
And.....do ya think Cheney may be the biggest one that knew it was fucked and the baddest one to push for it? Do ya think Big Dick was whispering to Jr all along about how he(W) needed to be President, solidify his legacy? After all the Old Man already had his chance and didn't finish the job....and that cost him a 2nd term.
Do ya think Haliburton makes more profit from a well ran/well realized occupation and subsequent turnover of Iraq? Or from FUBAR?
Finn
I'm only a bit in, but it's obvious...er, what a control freak/ego maniac Rummy was/is.
How clueless Bush was/is.
How unprepared for her job(s) Ms. Rice was/is.
How sneaky/lowdown Cheney was/is.
How fucked/outnumbered Powell was.
How impotent Myers was.
How dedicated/ Abizad was/is.
How fucked/mistaken Tenet was.
How overwhelmed all the planners under the cabal were.
How misled all of us were.
How easy it is to flanaggle congress.
It makes me wonder...
How half the country voted for this guy(administration)....TWICE!
How they thought/convinced each other they were prepared for this.
How Bush had the NERVE to stand in front of that mission accomplished banner.
How they(Condi) didn't listen to Tenet and Black.
How noone bothered to ask Spider Marks what he thought about the 900+ WMD sites?
How so many jr members of the planning commitees seemingly knew we were FUBAR'ed.
How could Daddy Bush just stay outta Jr's way like that? Why not come to him as a former President and not as a father, and explain how wrong he had it and how badly astray Cheney was leading him?
How could Jr NOT ask his dad for guidance?
How could W NOT ask anyone anything relavent that woulda given another view to what was or ws getting ready to, before or after "the war" was over and nation building had begun.
And.....do ya think Cheney may be the biggest one that knew it was fucked and the baddest one to push for it? Do ya think Big Dick was whispering to Jr all along about how he(W) needed to be President, solidify his legacy? After all the Old Man already had his chance and didn't finish the job....and that cost him a 2nd term.
Do ya think Haliburton makes more profit from a well ran/well realized occupation and subsequent turnover of Iraq? Or from FUBAR?
Finn
Thursday, February 15, 2007
HopesInExcile
Is anyone else concerned that all of our hopes for a successful conclusion to this fiasco in Iraq resides in the form of Al Sadr's buddy Meliki who's been in excile in Iran.
Do we like Al Sadr?
Do we like Iran?
Are we nervous?
I am.
Finn
Do we like Al Sadr?
Do we like Iran?
Are we nervous?
I am.
Finn
Discussions&Criticisms
Parish would like to invite anyone interested in his "WorkInProgress....AsYetUntitled" to offer criticisms, ask questions, offer suggestions or discuss the ongoing story line, in the comments section of the post of interst or in the comment section of this post.
Also he would like you to know that you now have access to chapter 1(#'s 1-5)and that he is currently working on chapter 2. I will post more as I receive it. Stay tuned to The Oven for more about our current favorite unnamed protagonist.
I would also like to take this oppurtunity to thank Mr. Parish for contributing to this blog by sharing the deeper and darker reaches of his warped and demented mind with us all. If Fu and I are the only ones to ever read his contributions, I'll count that as a victory. For myself as well as for him. If however there is anyone else reading Parish's work, please let us know and please let us know what you think. He and I would appreciate it.
Thank You,
Finn
Also he would like you to know that you now have access to chapter 1(#'s 1-5)and that he is currently working on chapter 2. I will post more as I receive it. Stay tuned to The Oven for more about our current favorite unnamed protagonist.
I would also like to take this oppurtunity to thank Mr. Parish for contributing to this blog by sharing the deeper and darker reaches of his warped and demented mind with us all. If Fu and I are the only ones to ever read his contributions, I'll count that as a victory. For myself as well as for him. If however there is anyone else reading Parish's work, please let us know and please let us know what you think. He and I would appreciate it.
Thank You,
Finn
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
TheJunkiesFaust#5(FTDParish)
I stood there while they lay tangled on the bed, catching their breath, resting. I saw Bridge reach down beside the bed and grab something and give it to Buzzy. He smiled at her took a drink of the beer and gave it to her. For her to drink.
I found myself back in my car, starting it, turning on the lights, putting it into reverse, turning around and going down the driveway.
I drove to Hindostan Falls and left the car in the parking lot by the boat ramp, hopped the cable and walked down the steep trail that led to the bottom of the falls.
The Falls really weren't much of a fall, about 5 feet vertically when the water was low enough to swim. We used to go swimming there all the time. The fall wasn't much but there was a place right at the near bank where the water flowed down a series of steps. Over time the water had smoothed all the rough edges, so what you ended up with was a water slide.
Of course there were no swimming signs everywhere but we were really some rebels weren't we. There were dangerous currents, deep channels and whirl pools, but those were farther down river an eighth of a mile around the flat rock. The big current from the slide dumped you off well before anything dangerous....if you wanted.
I surfed the current, that's what we called it, surfing the current. There was a big rock right down at the bottom of the slide and if you went in under the current from the side, you could pop up right in the slide water and if you were coordinated enough and strong enough, you could brace your feet against the rock, lean back into the current and just lay there suspended as the current flowed around you....surfing the current.
So there I was surfing the current and thinking about everything that happened that night, drinking the vodka I'd grabbed at the house, I'd alraedy finished the 6 pack and let the plastic 6 pack rings flow down the river. Watching it bob on the current in the moonlight until it dissapeared in the night.
I thought about the whirl pools. Supposedly there was one that sucked stuff down into a hole under the flatrock. I wondered if any of the people who had drowned out here and had never been found had been sucked down under the flat rock. Their lungs straining against their chests as they lay wedged into the rock with all that force, all that water bearing down on them as their lungs forced their mouths to open and try to gasp air. Their throat and lungs filling with water. Their life draining away and forever trapped under the rock with the river crushing them. I thought of them.
I thought about myself getting sucked down one of those holes. Dead hands grasping me, holding me, as the river beat down on me....
I drained the last of the bottle, letting some of the strong liquor flow out of my mouth, down my neck and over my chest, to be carried away in the river. I let the bottle slip from my fingers and watched it bob down the river. The moonlight glittering off the bottle. I could see the bottle. It was starting to swirl around the edges of one of the whirl pools. I picked my feet up off the rock and felt the current grab me.... and sweep me, down stream.
I found myself back in my car, starting it, turning on the lights, putting it into reverse, turning around and going down the driveway.
I drove to Hindostan Falls and left the car in the parking lot by the boat ramp, hopped the cable and walked down the steep trail that led to the bottom of the falls.
The Falls really weren't much of a fall, about 5 feet vertically when the water was low enough to swim. We used to go swimming there all the time. The fall wasn't much but there was a place right at the near bank where the water flowed down a series of steps. Over time the water had smoothed all the rough edges, so what you ended up with was a water slide.
Of course there were no swimming signs everywhere but we were really some rebels weren't we. There were dangerous currents, deep channels and whirl pools, but those were farther down river an eighth of a mile around the flat rock. The big current from the slide dumped you off well before anything dangerous....if you wanted.
I surfed the current, that's what we called it, surfing the current. There was a big rock right down at the bottom of the slide and if you went in under the current from the side, you could pop up right in the slide water and if you were coordinated enough and strong enough, you could brace your feet against the rock, lean back into the current and just lay there suspended as the current flowed around you....surfing the current.
So there I was surfing the current and thinking about everything that happened that night, drinking the vodka I'd grabbed at the house, I'd alraedy finished the 6 pack and let the plastic 6 pack rings flow down the river. Watching it bob on the current in the moonlight until it dissapeared in the night.
I thought about the whirl pools. Supposedly there was one that sucked stuff down into a hole under the flatrock. I wondered if any of the people who had drowned out here and had never been found had been sucked down under the flat rock. Their lungs straining against their chests as they lay wedged into the rock with all that force, all that water bearing down on them as their lungs forced their mouths to open and try to gasp air. Their throat and lungs filling with water. Their life draining away and forever trapped under the rock with the river crushing them. I thought of them.
I thought about myself getting sucked down one of those holes. Dead hands grasping me, holding me, as the river beat down on me....
I drained the last of the bottle, letting some of the strong liquor flow out of my mouth, down my neck and over my chest, to be carried away in the river. I let the bottle slip from my fingers and watched it bob down the river. The moonlight glittering off the bottle. I could see the bottle. It was starting to swirl around the edges of one of the whirl pools. I picked my feet up off the rock and felt the current grab me.... and sweep me, down stream.
TheJunkiesFaust#4(FTDParish)
The first thing I noticed as I pulled up the driveway, was that Ed and Lilly were gone. Or at least Lilly's Buick Roadmaster was gone. On a Saturday night, that generaally meant they were in town at the club. Ed drinking draft beer and Lilly sipping margaritas or maybe cosmos. Laughing with their friends....all the people that looked down on my parents. Ed and Lilly too. But they were good enough to take me for me. They didn't judge me on my parents actions. That couldn't be said for most of the people in that club....or from most in town probably.
The second thing that I noticed was that Buzzy's truck was here. Parked on the side of the garage. Over by where Ed stacked the firewood. Hiding.
My mouth hanging open and my stride irregular, I made my way around Buzzy's truck to the back of the house. My brain was in shut down. Too much information. Too soon. Does not compute. I stumbled over a tackle box as I rounded the back corner of the house and almost went down. Somehow I stayed upright and staggered up to Bridge's window.
I heard them before I saw them. Her high pitched panting, working up to a crescendo. His deep grunting becoming more and more bestial. I saw them them. Bridge bent over, legs apart and slightly bent, back arched, thrusting backwards at him as she hung onto the pine chest I made her in wood shop in 9th grade. I saw the grain of the lumber, the thick laquer making it shine in the bright light of her bedroom. The intricate carving and routering I'd done mocking me.
I saw Buzzy. Sweat making him shine like the pine box. He grasped her hips. His legs spread wider than hers, pounding her relentlessly as they came together with guttural screams that broke on me like thunderous waves. That broke me.
The second thing that I noticed was that Buzzy's truck was here. Parked on the side of the garage. Over by where Ed stacked the firewood. Hiding.
My mouth hanging open and my stride irregular, I made my way around Buzzy's truck to the back of the house. My brain was in shut down. Too much information. Too soon. Does not compute. I stumbled over a tackle box as I rounded the back corner of the house and almost went down. Somehow I stayed upright and staggered up to Bridge's window.
I heard them before I saw them. Her high pitched panting, working up to a crescendo. His deep grunting becoming more and more bestial. I saw them them. Bridge bent over, legs apart and slightly bent, back arched, thrusting backwards at him as she hung onto the pine chest I made her in wood shop in 9th grade. I saw the grain of the lumber, the thick laquer making it shine in the bright light of her bedroom. The intricate carving and routering I'd done mocking me.
I saw Buzzy. Sweat making him shine like the pine box. He grasped her hips. His legs spread wider than hers, pounding her relentlessly as they came together with guttural screams that broke on me like thunderous waves. That broke me.
TheJunkiesFaust#3(FTDParish)
I just drove off. I knew they were confused and hurt. I knew that I had hurt them. They cared about me and just wanted to know what was going on, how I was, how they could help. And I knew that, I saw that, I felt that and I just drove off. I couldn't care.
I don't know how long I just drove. Or where I'd been. I just drove and drove and thought about my life up until that point. Everything that had happened in my life and whether or not I could have done anything to change what happened....who I was now....what my life was gonna be now.
What was my life gonna be now? I was 17 years old. I had no immediate family. I was an accident that forced my parents into getting married to begin with and they were both far too selfish to make that mistake twice. Having another kid would have meant giving even more of their time, energy, money.......love, to someone else. Unacceptable. So I'm a 17 year old man/boy with no older siblings, no aunts, uncles, grandparents....noone to look after me. I knew I could take care of myself, I'd been doing it for years. Making myself get up to go to school. Making myself study and get good grades. Making myself do the right things....for the most part anyway. Sure I drank some. Sure I smoked a little pot. Sure Bridge and I had sex. But nothing crazy. I drank and smoked a little, less than most of my friends. Our sex was always protected, doubly, and we were monogomous. I raised myself and did a damn fine job of it. I was a good person. Forged in the fire of self reliance and confidence. I had some trust issues because of my parents. And probably innumerable other psychological issues that I wasn't aware of. But for the most part, I was cool. I had it wired. I was in control....
Now? Not so much. I assummed the state would decide I needed adult supervision and place me into a foster home until I turned 18. Not a great deal for someone who has made his own daily decisions, his own meals, did his own laundry since he was 11 or 12....or longer. Now some foster parent looking for an extra $500 a month was gonna be tellin me when and where I could go and when I had to be back. Who I could see and talk to. Telling ME when to straighten up the house or when to do dishes or, My God, making me sit down to "family" meals.
Maybe I'd just take off. By the time they found me I'd be 18. Then what could they do? Fuck 'em!! I could take care of myself. Fuck family dinners!!
I found myself back at the house. I parked...in Dad's spot. I guessed that I would have to arrange to get Mom's car and Dad's truck home......"were they mine now? How did all that work? Was the house mine." It was paid off. At least Dad did that. Working in a coal mine was dirty, life leeching work, but it paid well. Paid for Dad's beer, gambling and girlfriends. Paid for Mom's Vodka. Paid for the cars, the house, the bills. We weren't rich, but things got paid and the liquor flowed.
I of course bougtht my own clothes. Dad would bitch if I asked for clothes from anywhere but Wal-Mart.
"Payin for a fuckin brand name," he'd say. "I ain't payin all that extra fuckin money just so you can wear fuckin Nikes! I work hard for my fuckin money, they got fuckin shoes at the motherfuckin Wal-Mart!"
Old bastard did buy me a car right before I turned 16 though....well, he won me a car, playing cards. But fuck it, it was a nice car. A granny car. It was a 4 year old Cutlass Supreme. Not great....not bad. It was in good shape and had plenty of room.
So fuck it, I got a job(worked a couple of hours after school and a couple of hours early on the weekend mornings at a gas station where the owner knew my dad and what kind of bastard he was, so I think initially he was just trying to help me. But soon he saw my work ethic and integrity and then our relationship was more equal). And I bought my own clothes and had my own spending money.
There was a brief period after I got my first check that my Mom did want me to pay rent(I think she wanted the extra money to buy pain killers) but Dad did put a stop to that pretty quick. Although I think he was doing it to piss Mom off more than to stick up for me.
He said, "You live here for free, drinkin up all my money ya ol' bitch. You're not gonna make the boy pay. At least that dumb fuck's got a job. Fat ol' bitch." And left to go to town to drink and whore around and Mom got drunk....er.
So, at least I got to keep my spending money and could pay for gas and dates with Bridge. "Oh Bridge, what would I do without you?" I thought. She was my rock. The one shining point of light in my otherwise dark and dismal universe. Corny huh? The one thing I could count on. Best girl in the world. It was great. Hell, her parents even liked me.
And Buzzy too. It's hard for adolescent men to articulate, but I loved Buzzy too. Probably the only other person in the world I trusted besides Bridge. We'd been friends since grade school when we figured out why neither of us wanted to have friends over to our houses. Buzzy's dad left when he was just a baby and his mom was a lazy bitch, just laying around collecting welfare and being a bar whore. Hell, the old man probably rolled around with her a time or two. Some people just sucked. The funny thing was that each of us was madder at the others parental units more than we were mad at our own. When I figured that out was when I knew Buzzy and I would be friends forever.
I was mad at myself now for the way I acted leaving after I talked with Jimmy. She loved me and more importantly she let ME love her. I wanted to see her now. To tell her how sorry I was and to ask her to hold me and tell me it was all going be alright. I grabbed a 6 pack out of the fridge and swiped a 5th of vodka off the shelf on the way out and headed for Bridget's to wallow in self pity.
I don't know how long I just drove. Or where I'd been. I just drove and drove and thought about my life up until that point. Everything that had happened in my life and whether or not I could have done anything to change what happened....who I was now....what my life was gonna be now.
What was my life gonna be now? I was 17 years old. I had no immediate family. I was an accident that forced my parents into getting married to begin with and they were both far too selfish to make that mistake twice. Having another kid would have meant giving even more of their time, energy, money.......love, to someone else. Unacceptable. So I'm a 17 year old man/boy with no older siblings, no aunts, uncles, grandparents....noone to look after me. I knew I could take care of myself, I'd been doing it for years. Making myself get up to go to school. Making myself study and get good grades. Making myself do the right things....for the most part anyway. Sure I drank some. Sure I smoked a little pot. Sure Bridge and I had sex. But nothing crazy. I drank and smoked a little, less than most of my friends. Our sex was always protected, doubly, and we were monogomous. I raised myself and did a damn fine job of it. I was a good person. Forged in the fire of self reliance and confidence. I had some trust issues because of my parents. And probably innumerable other psychological issues that I wasn't aware of. But for the most part, I was cool. I had it wired. I was in control....
Now? Not so much. I assummed the state would decide I needed adult supervision and place me into a foster home until I turned 18. Not a great deal for someone who has made his own daily decisions, his own meals, did his own laundry since he was 11 or 12....or longer. Now some foster parent looking for an extra $500 a month was gonna be tellin me when and where I could go and when I had to be back. Who I could see and talk to. Telling ME when to straighten up the house or when to do dishes or, My God, making me sit down to "family" meals.
Maybe I'd just take off. By the time they found me I'd be 18. Then what could they do? Fuck 'em!! I could take care of myself. Fuck family dinners!!
I found myself back at the house. I parked...in Dad's spot. I guessed that I would have to arrange to get Mom's car and Dad's truck home......"were they mine now? How did all that work? Was the house mine." It was paid off. At least Dad did that. Working in a coal mine was dirty, life leeching work, but it paid well. Paid for Dad's beer, gambling and girlfriends. Paid for Mom's Vodka. Paid for the cars, the house, the bills. We weren't rich, but things got paid and the liquor flowed.
I of course bougtht my own clothes. Dad would bitch if I asked for clothes from anywhere but Wal-Mart.
"Payin for a fuckin brand name," he'd say. "I ain't payin all that extra fuckin money just so you can wear fuckin Nikes! I work hard for my fuckin money, they got fuckin shoes at the motherfuckin Wal-Mart!"
Old bastard did buy me a car right before I turned 16 though....well, he won me a car, playing cards. But fuck it, it was a nice car. A granny car. It was a 4 year old Cutlass Supreme. Not great....not bad. It was in good shape and had plenty of room.
So fuck it, I got a job(worked a couple of hours after school and a couple of hours early on the weekend mornings at a gas station where the owner knew my dad and what kind of bastard he was, so I think initially he was just trying to help me. But soon he saw my work ethic and integrity and then our relationship was more equal). And I bought my own clothes and had my own spending money.
There was a brief period after I got my first check that my Mom did want me to pay rent(I think she wanted the extra money to buy pain killers) but Dad did put a stop to that pretty quick. Although I think he was doing it to piss Mom off more than to stick up for me.
He said, "You live here for free, drinkin up all my money ya ol' bitch. You're not gonna make the boy pay. At least that dumb fuck's got a job. Fat ol' bitch." And left to go to town to drink and whore around and Mom got drunk....er.
So, at least I got to keep my spending money and could pay for gas and dates with Bridge. "Oh Bridge, what would I do without you?" I thought. She was my rock. The one shining point of light in my otherwise dark and dismal universe. Corny huh? The one thing I could count on. Best girl in the world. It was great. Hell, her parents even liked me.
And Buzzy too. It's hard for adolescent men to articulate, but I loved Buzzy too. Probably the only other person in the world I trusted besides Bridge. We'd been friends since grade school when we figured out why neither of us wanted to have friends over to our houses. Buzzy's dad left when he was just a baby and his mom was a lazy bitch, just laying around collecting welfare and being a bar whore. Hell, the old man probably rolled around with her a time or two. Some people just sucked. The funny thing was that each of us was madder at the others parental units more than we were mad at our own. When I figured that out was when I knew Buzzy and I would be friends forever.
I was mad at myself now for the way I acted leaving after I talked with Jimmy. She loved me and more importantly she let ME love her. I wanted to see her now. To tell her how sorry I was and to ask her to hold me and tell me it was all going be alright. I grabbed a 6 pack out of the fridge and swiped a 5th of vodka off the shelf on the way out and headed for Bridget's to wallow in self pity.
TheJunkiesFaust#2(FTDParish)
I guess it started almost 7 years ago. I was sitting in the Dairy Master eating some fries(w/ special sauce for fry dipping of course) and hanging out with a bunch of my friends on an average Saturday night. My girlfriend(Bridget), my best friend(Buzz) and most of our friends were just sitting around, laughing and making fun of each other. You know, just high school kids, slap assin and trying to have a good time without getting into trouble.
Sometimes easier said than done when you live in a small midwestern town. Not alot of diversion for teenagers around these parts. No under age clubs. Nowhere to dance or anything like that. Just nothing. An average weekend usually consisted of driving around gravelled back roads drinking and trying to get laid for most kids. Sometimes someone's parents were out of town so you didn't have to drive while you were underage drinking. But that's just what we did. This little group sitting here, eating and hanging out didn't do it as much as some, but we did some too. We weren't bad kids, just bored.......
So we're all sitting around joking and laughing and in walks the sherriff and everything stops. Because he's looking around for someone, searching the crowd, scanning. His eyes connect with mine and I know. I know it's me he's looking for. And I know why. I just know. I don't know how, but I do. He just stands there, looking at me with an indiscernable look on his face as I slide out of the booth and stand up after Bridget, who's moved to let me out because she can sense something's not right. I walk up to Jimmy, a huge mountain of a man with huge hands that he'd pinch that muscle running from your neck to your shoulder with. He'd sneak up behind you at basketball games or the gas station when you weren't looking and pinch that muscle and you'd be just locked up. Nothing you could do but squirm and squeel til he deemed it time to let you go. Then he'd laugh that deep big old belly laugh that rumbled across the gym and pat you on the back and tell you to "be good now" and walk off still laughing and searching for his next target. So I walked straight up to him, looking him square in the eyes and he nods his head towards the door and turns and starts out, knowing I'm behind him, following, dreading. And he knows I know. I can feel that too.
I slide into the passenger seat of his patrol car. A big Crown Victoria with a dashboard that looks like the bridge of the Enterprise. The radio's squawking and lights are blinking and I can't take my eyes off them even though I know Jimmy's just sitting there waiting for me to get ready and look at him. But I can't. If I don't look he won't tell me and it won't be real. We sit there in silence for what seems like forever. Bridget and Buzzy and everyone crowded up against the windows of the restaurant, looking, wondering. I can see them out of the corner of my eye, but I won't look at them either. I can't look. I don't want this to be real.
Finally I turned slowly to Jimmy. He's just sitting there, the picture of composure. I wonder how he's able to do it. Tell people things like this. How does he stay so calm and patient?
"She finally did it?" I asked Jimmy.
"She did," Jimmy says. "She went over to Roy's, walked right in, pumped a shell into the chamber and fired right into the middle of the card game. Jacked another one in and fired right into them again. Used the 12 gauge. Killed him and Carla right off. Carla was sittin on your dad's lap. Noone else got hurt bad. A coupla your dad's friends got some buckshot in em, but nothin serious. They all scattered pretty quick and got outta the way for the most part. They said your dad and Carla just sat there starin at her until she fired. Then with all of them layin scattered around, she jacked in another shell, took off her right shoe with her left foot, turned the barrell up looked around at all of em and pushed the trigger with her big toe and blew her head clean off."
I felt nothing. And instantly felt guilt for not feeling anything. Jimmy just told me my mom killed my dad, his girlfriend and herself and I didn't feel anything. What was wrong with me? Was I a monster? Did I deserve this?
I reached up and tried the door. It was locked. I looked at Jimmy. He raised his eyebrow at me questioningly. I looked him straight in the eye and nodded. He pushed the button on his arm rest that released the door lock. I got out and sleepwalked to my car.
Bridget and Buzzy came running out as Jimmy pulled off. They were running to my car, curious, maybe a little scared. I just looked blankly at them as i put the car into gear and drove off. They yelled and ran after me. I watched them in the rear view mirror, hurt and questions on their faces....... I drove off.
Sometimes easier said than done when you live in a small midwestern town. Not alot of diversion for teenagers around these parts. No under age clubs. Nowhere to dance or anything like that. Just nothing. An average weekend usually consisted of driving around gravelled back roads drinking and trying to get laid for most kids. Sometimes someone's parents were out of town so you didn't have to drive while you were underage drinking. But that's just what we did. This little group sitting here, eating and hanging out didn't do it as much as some, but we did some too. We weren't bad kids, just bored.......
So we're all sitting around joking and laughing and in walks the sherriff and everything stops. Because he's looking around for someone, searching the crowd, scanning. His eyes connect with mine and I know. I know it's me he's looking for. And I know why. I just know. I don't know how, but I do. He just stands there, looking at me with an indiscernable look on his face as I slide out of the booth and stand up after Bridget, who's moved to let me out because she can sense something's not right. I walk up to Jimmy, a huge mountain of a man with huge hands that he'd pinch that muscle running from your neck to your shoulder with. He'd sneak up behind you at basketball games or the gas station when you weren't looking and pinch that muscle and you'd be just locked up. Nothing you could do but squirm and squeel til he deemed it time to let you go. Then he'd laugh that deep big old belly laugh that rumbled across the gym and pat you on the back and tell you to "be good now" and walk off still laughing and searching for his next target. So I walked straight up to him, looking him square in the eyes and he nods his head towards the door and turns and starts out, knowing I'm behind him, following, dreading. And he knows I know. I can feel that too.
I slide into the passenger seat of his patrol car. A big Crown Victoria with a dashboard that looks like the bridge of the Enterprise. The radio's squawking and lights are blinking and I can't take my eyes off them even though I know Jimmy's just sitting there waiting for me to get ready and look at him. But I can't. If I don't look he won't tell me and it won't be real. We sit there in silence for what seems like forever. Bridget and Buzzy and everyone crowded up against the windows of the restaurant, looking, wondering. I can see them out of the corner of my eye, but I won't look at them either. I can't look. I don't want this to be real.
Finally I turned slowly to Jimmy. He's just sitting there, the picture of composure. I wonder how he's able to do it. Tell people things like this. How does he stay so calm and patient?
"She finally did it?" I asked Jimmy.
"She did," Jimmy says. "She went over to Roy's, walked right in, pumped a shell into the chamber and fired right into the middle of the card game. Jacked another one in and fired right into them again. Used the 12 gauge. Killed him and Carla right off. Carla was sittin on your dad's lap. Noone else got hurt bad. A coupla your dad's friends got some buckshot in em, but nothin serious. They all scattered pretty quick and got outta the way for the most part. They said your dad and Carla just sat there starin at her until she fired. Then with all of them layin scattered around, she jacked in another shell, took off her right shoe with her left foot, turned the barrell up looked around at all of em and pushed the trigger with her big toe and blew her head clean off."
I felt nothing. And instantly felt guilt for not feeling anything. Jimmy just told me my mom killed my dad, his girlfriend and herself and I didn't feel anything. What was wrong with me? Was I a monster? Did I deserve this?
I reached up and tried the door. It was locked. I looked at Jimmy. He raised his eyebrow at me questioningly. I looked him straight in the eye and nodded. He pushed the button on his arm rest that released the door lock. I got out and sleepwalked to my car.
Bridget and Buzzy came running out as Jimmy pulled off. They were running to my car, curious, maybe a little scared. I just looked blankly at them as i put the car into gear and drove off. They yelled and ran after me. I watched them in the rear view mirror, hurt and questions on their faces....... I drove off.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
TheJunkiesFaust#1(FTDParish)
The signpost promised a rest stop in 2 miles. I might be able to make it 2 miles. If not it wouldn't be the worst thing to happen this winter that's for sure.
Light came from a bare bulb screwed into an old yellowed fixture that may have been around since those nasty boys in Germany were herding people into showers. In rooms that looked and smelled alot like this I'm sure. Although I imagine much larger....I'm also pretty sure it had been tidied since, but whoever installed that fixture may have been the last to clean the place too......also not the worst I've seen this winter unfortunately.
As my bladder voided, intense pain flowed up the lentgh of and out the head my dick. Blood covered the white porceline and spread outward and down to and over the triangular urinal mint holder. The obligatory blue hockey puck meant to somehow cover the smell of piss, but just adding a layer of hospital like dissinfectant smell under the oppresive reek. The minty puck long since eroded away by streaming urine from bleary eyed travellers needing to stretch their legs and over the road truck drivers lookin for a little head far away from home. This puck holder was white once also, but was now the color of an old drunk's eyes. That sickly yellow color that years of booze colors the whites of your eyes. And now I was adding the bloodshot.
How did I end up in a rest stop in Nebraska in the dead cold of this Feburary night pissing blood into a cracked, stained urinal that probably carried more diseases than a pretty little man in prison with titties tatooed on his back?
Well, I guess I know exactly how I got here........Wanna hear a story?
Light came from a bare bulb screwed into an old yellowed fixture that may have been around since those nasty boys in Germany were herding people into showers. In rooms that looked and smelled alot like this I'm sure. Although I imagine much larger....I'm also pretty sure it had been tidied since, but whoever installed that fixture may have been the last to clean the place too......also not the worst I've seen this winter unfortunately.
As my bladder voided, intense pain flowed up the lentgh of and out the head my dick. Blood covered the white porceline and spread outward and down to and over the triangular urinal mint holder. The obligatory blue hockey puck meant to somehow cover the smell of piss, but just adding a layer of hospital like dissinfectant smell under the oppresive reek. The minty puck long since eroded away by streaming urine from bleary eyed travellers needing to stretch their legs and over the road truck drivers lookin for a little head far away from home. This puck holder was white once also, but was now the color of an old drunk's eyes. That sickly yellow color that years of booze colors the whites of your eyes. And now I was adding the bloodshot.
How did I end up in a rest stop in Nebraska in the dead cold of this Feburary night pissing blood into a cracked, stained urinal that probably carried more diseases than a pretty little man in prison with titties tatooed on his back?
Well, I guess I know exactly how I got here........Wanna hear a story?
SpeakingOfSinsOfTheFather....
Does anyone with more love of investigation than this hillbilly blog surfer know about or care to research the fact that Daddy Bush's Daddy garnered a sizable amount of wealth and influence by financing a certain German party in the '30's via his wifey's families banking concerns?
I wonder who W's great grandaddy pillaged for his money? Anyone?
I wonder who W's great grandaddy pillaged for his money? Anyone?
TheSinsOfTheFather
It seems that our clueless leader W, who has been propping up poppy growing warlords in Afganistan ever since we needed them to help oust the Taliban and keep a semblance of order in Ganistan whilst we plundered the cradle of civilization, is now gonna poison the poppy fields to help reduce the heroin being exported outta Ganistan nowadays.
An increase in the heroin export outta Ganistan corresponded di-rectly with our mission in Babylon which W declared accomplished on a carrier deck a coupla years ago. An increase on something of the order of a coupla hundred percent if I'm not mistaken(anybody?). He's let that happen this whole time while we've been slogged in the streets of some dusty cities which just happen to be sittin on top abuncha oil, black gold, Texas tea, Californy is the place ya oughtta be, but Cheney loaded up the intelligence and moved up in on Ali. Musta liked the real estate betwixt the Tigres and Euphrates. Winter home probly. Wyoming gets cold in winter....but I guess he really lived in Texas anyway didn't he? But we know a Pres/Vice Pres combo can't come from the same state.....so yeah Big Dick must be from Wyoming.
So now he's gonna spray poppy like it's coca and he's in the rain forest insteada the sand. Wanna stop heroin export in Gani? Fine, but why wait til Europe has finally started helpin? Now if the European community had reservations about helpin us into this bumfuggle in Iraq, I understand. And now that we've botched it(if ever there was a chance that it could be done properly), if they wanna come in and invest in Gani, fine. And that's what it seems like they're doin. Building canals and irrigation systems so they'll be able to grow more than Poppy. B-U-T!!! That says BE YOU T!!! BEAUTY!!! Now that's really helpin it seems like. Helpin people get invaluable water to their crops so they can feed themselves and make a living and not have to do it buy growing crops for junkies in Europe and the U.S.
So W and his braintrust(i can't think of a larger misnomer of a combination of words and deeds)are gonna put however much poison into the ground where these people are gonna grow their presumably legal crops.
Now I understand that I may have the facts a little muddled, not sure, maybe, I'm not a reporter, and there may be alotta things I don't know about the situation that would change things relative to my thoughts on said subject. But to me, this is a perfect example of how our government works and an excellent example of why other countries don't like us. We used the Gani warlords for their support w/ the Taliban. I'm sure paying them handsomely and allowing them to manufacture and distribute heroin as fast and as much as they could( so we didn't have to focus on Gani and could instead wade into the middle of several thousands of years worth of strife and turmoil.
Then, when it's convenient for us to do so, we remember that these nice fellas that've been helpin us are criminals. Does this sound familiar to anyone? Reagan era(read HW era) cocaine dealin, US propped up dictator now languishing in retirement in a federale prison in Florida(isn't another Bush runnin that state?)? Or some "freedom fighters" in Ganistan during the Russian invasion....oh wait, that's all connected anyway isn't it Ollie? Er, excuse me Colonel North, Sir. American hero, Sir. Come to think of it that's where Osama got his start int't it? So now a mess HW started probly whilst he was CIA'n is now coming to roost with Bin Laden and W's quagmire......quagmire? Yeah, must be tough sloggin through all those flowers we'uns liberators got throwed at our feet.
And don't think this is anywhere near over.
And don't think that all Daddy's cronies who are or were around for Jr's administration didn't have it out for Saddm after Daddy's Gulf War.
And all that oil doesn't matter either.
And that Haliburton doesn't matter.
And Daddy's business partners who're connected with the Saud royal family don't matter.
And Israel doesn't matter.
And Iran doesn't matter.
I guess the only things that really don't matter are all Saddam's WMD's huh? Or that Saddam was connected to the hijackings and subsequent suicide bombings with large aircraft into a coupla tall buildings in New York and an occultishly shaped building that Daddy used to work in in Virginny?
And I really do believe Daddy-o thought Jr barging into a sectarian swamp fiasco in the desert was a bad idea. But he's a smart guy, he was director of the CIA after all. You can't trust those people, but they're smart. What ever happened to Tenet?
Well, that's probly alot of rambling from an uninformed, ignorant hillbilly that has no writing skills to speak of, but I told ya I wasn't no reporter.
Later,
Finn
An increase in the heroin export outta Ganistan corresponded di-rectly with our mission in Babylon which W declared accomplished on a carrier deck a coupla years ago. An increase on something of the order of a coupla hundred percent if I'm not mistaken(anybody?). He's let that happen this whole time while we've been slogged in the streets of some dusty cities which just happen to be sittin on top abuncha oil, black gold, Texas tea, Californy is the place ya oughtta be, but Cheney loaded up the intelligence and moved up in on Ali. Musta liked the real estate betwixt the Tigres and Euphrates. Winter home probly. Wyoming gets cold in winter....but I guess he really lived in Texas anyway didn't he? But we know a Pres/Vice Pres combo can't come from the same state.....so yeah Big Dick must be from Wyoming.
So now he's gonna spray poppy like it's coca and he's in the rain forest insteada the sand. Wanna stop heroin export in Gani? Fine, but why wait til Europe has finally started helpin? Now if the European community had reservations about helpin us into this bumfuggle in Iraq, I understand. And now that we've botched it(if ever there was a chance that it could be done properly), if they wanna come in and invest in Gani, fine. And that's what it seems like they're doin. Building canals and irrigation systems so they'll be able to grow more than Poppy. B-U-T!!! That says BE YOU T!!! BEAUTY!!! Now that's really helpin it seems like. Helpin people get invaluable water to their crops so they can feed themselves and make a living and not have to do it buy growing crops for junkies in Europe and the U.S.
So W and his braintrust(i can't think of a larger misnomer of a combination of words and deeds)are gonna put however much poison into the ground where these people are gonna grow their presumably legal crops.
Now I understand that I may have the facts a little muddled, not sure, maybe, I'm not a reporter, and there may be alotta things I don't know about the situation that would change things relative to my thoughts on said subject. But to me, this is a perfect example of how our government works and an excellent example of why other countries don't like us. We used the Gani warlords for their support w/ the Taliban. I'm sure paying them handsomely and allowing them to manufacture and distribute heroin as fast and as much as they could( so we didn't have to focus on Gani and could instead wade into the middle of several thousands of years worth of strife and turmoil.
Then, when it's convenient for us to do so, we remember that these nice fellas that've been helpin us are criminals. Does this sound familiar to anyone? Reagan era(read HW era) cocaine dealin, US propped up dictator now languishing in retirement in a federale prison in Florida(isn't another Bush runnin that state?)? Or some "freedom fighters" in Ganistan during the Russian invasion....oh wait, that's all connected anyway isn't it Ollie? Er, excuse me Colonel North, Sir. American hero, Sir. Come to think of it that's where Osama got his start int't it? So now a mess HW started probly whilst he was CIA'n is now coming to roost with Bin Laden and W's quagmire......quagmire? Yeah, must be tough sloggin through all those flowers we'uns liberators got throwed at our feet.
And don't think this is anywhere near over.
And don't think that all Daddy's cronies who are or were around for Jr's administration didn't have it out for Saddm after Daddy's Gulf War.
And all that oil doesn't matter either.
And that Haliburton doesn't matter.
And Daddy's business partners who're connected with the Saud royal family don't matter.
And Israel doesn't matter.
And Iran doesn't matter.
I guess the only things that really don't matter are all Saddam's WMD's huh? Or that Saddam was connected to the hijackings and subsequent suicide bombings with large aircraft into a coupla tall buildings in New York and an occultishly shaped building that Daddy used to work in in Virginny?
And I really do believe Daddy-o thought Jr barging into a sectarian swamp fiasco in the desert was a bad idea. But he's a smart guy, he was director of the CIA after all. You can't trust those people, but they're smart. What ever happened to Tenet?
Well, that's probly alot of rambling from an uninformed, ignorant hillbilly that has no writing skills to speak of, but I told ya I wasn't no reporter.
Later,
Finn
Sunday, February 11, 2007
ParaguayenFreeZone
While watching the Washington Journal this fine Sunday mornin, I heard someone reference a story that seemed to allude to our very own commander and chief recently purchasing somewhere in the neighborhood of 100,000 acres in the fine country of Paraguay.
Interesting sure, but what's the big deal really?
Well, it seems that prior to W finalizing the deal, he lobby'd the Paraguayen government to make a non extradition ammendment for war crimes..........hmmmmmmm.
Interesting if true, yes?
Finn
Interesting sure, but what's the big deal really?
Well, it seems that prior to W finalizing the deal, he lobby'd the Paraguayen government to make a non extradition ammendment for war crimes..........hmmmmmmm.
Interesting if true, yes?
Finn
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Pharmacopia
As per my last post, I have a fugged up leg.......
You say," Yeah, so?"
Well, yon pharmacist has hooked a brother up, making mein pain less....as well as mein motivation. Rest assured my brain is working overtime, but mein fingers are, for the most part, taking a break.
If you wonder why the posts have been far between this last coupla weeks, there you have it. I'm a floatin on a cloud of codiene and therefore have been a writin less.
I also have some original fiction submitted by Parish which needs to be edited and transcribed to this'n blog. Hopefully that'll be sometime this week. Stay tuned as Mr. Parish is fully deranged and more than a little entertaining.
Write ya later,
Finn
You say," Yeah, so?"
Well, yon pharmacist has hooked a brother up, making mein pain less....as well as mein motivation. Rest assured my brain is working overtime, but mein fingers are, for the most part, taking a break.
If you wonder why the posts have been far between this last coupla weeks, there you have it. I'm a floatin on a cloud of codiene and therefore have been a writin less.
I also have some original fiction submitted by Parish which needs to be edited and transcribed to this'n blog. Hopefully that'll be sometime this week. Stay tuned as Mr. Parish is fully deranged and more than a little entertaining.
Write ya later,
Finn
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