Creative Writing – Page 44

Business Can Be Hellish

Mrs. Newham had been standing on the curb nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot for the better part of an hour. Finally, an elegant, streamlined, shiny black stretch limo pulled up in front of her and parked. The rear door opened slowly giving an ominous feeling. Mrs. Newham bent down to enter the limo and took a seat next to an impeccably dressed thin man. The door shut with a solid thud as the car pulled away from the curb and headed down the road.
“I think its safe to assume you’re Mrs. Newham,” said the man in a low emotionless tone. “Yes, yes I am.” replied Mrs. Newham meekly. “What can I do for you then Mrs. Newman?”

“I want to discuss your business dealings with my husband Edgar,”
“Why would you wish to do that?”
“Well Sir…”
“Vondire My name is Vondire,” said the thin man rudely interrupting Mrs. Newham.
“Well, Mr. Vondire my husband has been under a great deal of duress as of late, when it comes to his family’s business.” continued Mrs. Newham nervously.
“I am aware of your husbands business troubles. He told me all about it when he came to seek my council.”
“Then you know exactly what I’m talking about?”
“ I do, but it has nothing to do with me or the arrangement I made with your husband, Edgar.”
“ Mr. Vondire the arrangement you made with Edgar is utterly unrealistic not to mention preposterous.”

“It’s not preposterous or unrealistic; if a man agrees to the arrangement as your husband did. I’m not one to go back on my word, as it’s not good for business, especially in my line of work I assure you Mrs. Newham.
Vondire leisurely leaned forward so he could reach the limo’s bar. He took a crystal tumbler from a small cabinet. He then selected a bottle of scotch and poured 3 fingers into the lavish crystal tumbler before leaning back into his seat.
“You see Mrs. Newham,” said Vondire pausing to take a sip of scotch “I’m a businessman who abides by a strict rule of conduct. If someone, be they sound of mind or under duress like your husband, barters an agreement with me it’s iron clad.”

“But Mr. Vondire you can surely see that my poor Edgar was at his wits end. He hadn’t been eating or sleeping well for several months. The thought of losing his family business was more than he could bear,” Mrs. Newham said franticly, on the verge of begging.
“My agreement with your husband is not different from any other agreement I have with any other client. The damage is done Mrs. Newham. I suggest you thoroughly enjoy what my arrangement with your husband has provided for the two of you. Worrying about the inevitable will accomplish nothing.”

“Please Mr. Vondire my husband had no idea what he was agreeing to. He was too frazzled to make a sound judgment, more or less one of this magnitude.”
“Begging and Pleading will not change my mind and serves only to annoy me Mrs. Newham.”
“ But you haven’t left me any choice as I’m at your mercy” said Mrs. Newham doing her best to not give in to the impulse to bite her nails which she did when she was truly scared.
“ Isn’t there anything, anything at all I can do to change your mind Mr. Vondire?”
Mr. Vondire took a long sip of his scotch almost finishing it before he spoke.
“No, Mrs. Newham there is absolutely nothing you can do to change my arrangement with your husband. The deal was done as soon as your husband agreed to my contractual arrangement. People’s personal problems are just that, personal.”
“You can’t be serious! No one is that cold and unyielding. I can’t stand the idea of having my beloved husband by my side only to lose him forever, I can’t bear the thought of it, it makes me physically ill.” said Mrs. Newham fidgeting uncontrollably in her seat.

“This matter though it affects you greatly is no concern of mine. All you and your husband will do is honor the arrangement your husband and I made. “ said Vondire before finishing his scotch in one giant gulp. “I’m done with my drink and this concludes our conversation on this matter.”
The limo slowed down and came to an abrupt stop. The door once again opened itself slowly to allow Mrs. Newham to exit the car. Mrs. Newham feeling dejected and totally hopeless exited the car once again standing upon the curb. She then heard the low hum of the limo’s automatic window. Mrs. Newham looked up from the sidewalk and saw that the rear window of the limo was rolled down. She bent down and came face to face with Mr. Vondire whose eyes were such a brilliant shade of green, that for a moment it looked like someone actually removed his eyes and replaced them with real emeralds.
“Remember your wedding vows?” asked Vondire with a wicked grin sprawled across his weather worn face “It’s until death do we part. Remember that when you’re lamenting the loss of your beloved husband Edgar.”

Centralist by Spacedog

I am not a fuckin’ savior. I peel away at people like onions. We all do. Some of us are the peeled and we cry. Some of us are the instruments that scalp. Away. Away. Away.

We peel away the layers.

We peel away the sunshine.

We prefer it this way. Peeling away until there is nothing but barren terrain. Nakedness of the soul.

I see that barren flesh. I run. I hide. I capture but I do not seize. I growl at myself. I cannot kill the already dead. I cannot usurp what is already fallen at my feet. I plot. I ponder. I smile, I beckon them forth.

Centralist

I have always stood in between time and reality. I have always liked my part in this pathway towards truth, towards honesty, towards good.

I have always hated my lack of proofreading, my lack of utter care over things that most writers would throw hissy-fits about. Is this proper grammar? Am I spelled this write? Yes I know right.

I play dumb for the prey to think I am as such. It is not a very nice thing to do, but do it I shall. It was how the wolves conditioned me. Maybe I’m still just a wolf.

Most likely though, I fall in between. I am a centralist or centrist. I care not to look up spellings in dictionary.com. Usually words flow in my head that don’t make sense. Nine out of ten times, they are real words and I do a little spellcheck and poof they become what they were intended to be. Microcosisms of my head spewed out to the masses herky-jerkedly like a disenfranchised orgasm at a self-righteous porno store.

Yes. yes. YES. !!! I would think if I had a bigger ego, that yes I am the fuckin’ Dr. Phil of the next generation. I have been in the middle of many things. I somehow italicized my shit and have no clue how. I havent been in the middle of any bi relationships but if I could have would have just so I could enlighten you all further. But that is not the point of this blog. The point is this………………………………………

there comes a time…….. when we as people need something more. I need more. I hear my friends call me after many a beer and I hear my friends after many a sober evening. I do not hear stability call. I hear everything but.

I write and write and write some more. There is no sense to the melody. There is no reason to the rhyme. Perhpas if I could hear the music. I could tell the tale better. But I have equal melodies of those captured by the waves of the substances and I hear equal melodies of those not captured by such.

What road should I travel? What road will hurt me less? I care not. I care to live.

HOA’s The Legal Mafia

For those who are lucky enough not to know what the hell an HOA is allow me to explain.

What does HOA stand for?

It stands for Homeowners Association.

The History of HOA’s: HOA’s started very simply. Everyone who has or hasn’t owned a house is aware there is always a neighbor who’s a complete shit, and their house/yard reflects this shitty attitude. You know the house with the over grown lawn, mattress on the porch, car or some major household appliance rusting away in the yard etc. point being their house looks like a true dump. HOA’s used to be a basic agreement amongst the residents of a neighborhood that everyone should maintain their houses and lawns in a proper and respectable manner. If a neighbor’s house started to look shabby then the other residents would address it with the owner to resolve the said situation.

What Happened then to make HOA’s so detestable?

Thats an easy answer what happened was basic human behavior. People have a great knack for taking something simple and good and bastardizing it to death until its complicated and a MASSIVE pain in the ass. Homeowners self policing evolved under the force of human behavior into having HOA boards with Presidents (and vice presidents, treasurers and the like), childish elections, moronic monthly HOA meetings (imagine a town hall meeting where everyone is clinically insane and hopped up on Bath Salts.), idiotic infighting, and bullshit newsletters. Again we learn peoples desire for power makes them act like bastards and if they get a modicum of power it goes straight to their fucking heads, and thats not all by a long shot. The HOA has given themselves the right to dictate such things as what color you can paint your house, the type of front door you can have, if you can fly a flag, when you can water your lawn, demand you replace your roof at their discretion, demand that you paint your house again at their discretion regardless of peoples personal finances (example a new roof cost between $15,000 to $17,000 so most people plan to reroof years ahead of time so they can save up the money needed. Its a real fucker to have some asshole tell you out of the blue that you have to reroof your house immediately or else.)

Can I avoid buying a house without an HOA?

In most cases no unless you want to live in the shitty ghetto at the corner of Crack and Heroin because the neighborhoods are such utter shit no one living there gives a damn about petty shit they just want to stay alive. The other place you can buy a house without an HOA is the middle of the fucking boonies where there so few fucking people no one cares because out in the sticks there houses not neighborhoods.

HOA’s gave themselves the power to demand quarterly payments under the pretense that all the dues collected will go to the betterment of the neighborhood like repaving parking lots, roof repair, and landscaping to name a few. Not only that but if you are in violation of the set rules the HOA can fine you (usually $100) every day until you fix the issue at hand. HOA’s also have the self appointed authority to put a lean on your house if things get batshit crazy outta control as it were.

HOA is Legal Extortion. If I buy a house in a certain neighborhood why should I have to pay them quarterly? Thats a play right out of organized crime’s handbook. You see if a new store opens in a particular Mob family’s territory then the shop owner has to pay “Protection Money”. If a shop owner refuses to pay the Mob will destroy their business, make their (along with friends and family) lives miserable, beat up/ torture the owner, and possibly murder them. All this because of the geographical location alone.

There 2 types of HOA’s The HOA Nazis and The HOA Do Nothings.

The HOA Nazi’s patrol the neighborhood daily looking for infractions of the mandated rules of the HOA. They are brutal and extremely judgmental. They believe they are superior to their neighbors and enforce the rules as forcefully as they can over the smallest infraction. They write nasty fucking letters, set high daily fines for offenders, lecture about “Those Neighbors” (those who didn’t comply) at HOA meetings reminiscent of Adolf Hitler’s speeches in tone and intensity. They are hated and disposed by the rest of their neighborhoods.

The HOA DO Nothings collect they dues BUT don’t use them to improve a damn thing. They do the absolute base minimum and they do that begrudgingly. They are lax on the rules (so you can get away with shit like having 2 dogs when the HOA rules say only one dog not to mention the HOA decides what breed and size of said dog) but theirs a lot more childish drama. At one point my HOA meetings got so emotionally intense the local Police were present to keep order. The bitch about Do Nothing HOA’s is they change their minds more than parents change their new born baby’s diapers. The only fucking thing my current HOA is responsible for is maintaining/ replacing the roofs. Well they just sent me a bullshit letter stating that for the next 7 years they are instituting an ADDITIONAL $500 payment because they are going to replace the roofs. My point is this why the fuck should I pay them an additional $500 when I already pay them quarterly AND THAT MONEY (from the quarterly payment) IS FOR PAYING FOR NEW ROOFS, thus I’m being double billed if you will. There is a SHIT LOAD more infighting amongst the board members resulting in raucous HOA meetings and TONS of bullshit letters because they have much more free time than the HOA Nazi’s.

In Summation HOA’s are fucking unAmerican and operate on the principles of extortion. HOA’s only have power because they gave it to themselves and everyone else instead of calling bullshit bitched about it and then complied. I have no fucking idea why neighborhoods don’t unite and dismantle their HOA’s. HOA’s are comprised off cranky, over opinionated, better than you, mean, depressed, vengeful, nosy, moronic, idiotic assholes who get their rocks off with the power they get being on the HOA board. FUCK EVERY HOA AND EVERY BOARD MEMBER. It’s the fucking American dream to buy your own home, but now with unnecessary HOA policies and institutional horse shit can crap all over your dream, extort money from you, harass you constantly, spy on you, and fine you or even putting a fucking lean on your dream home. The entire HOA system is as corrupt as any government on the fucking planet.

Good News I’m moving in a couple of months to a different state and managed to buy a house WITHOUT AN HOA and I can’t be fucking happier.

HOA should stand for Huge Outrageous Assholes because thats who runs them.

The Delinquent Detective Ep.1 : Screaming at a Deaf Dog

Heads Up For Readers: There is a good bit of obscene language and blasphemies contained within this piece.
Rock Hard woke with a startle one hand one his set of bulbous brass balls, and in the other empty bottle of Lithuanian Whisky.
The goddamn phone was ringing relentlessly BRING! BRING! like a goddamn banshee. Rock sat up and wearily rubbing his face trying to dispel the thick fog of yesterday.
Rock was no stranger to the endless trials and tribulations of life not by a long shot. Bullshit was his bread and butter.
Rock slowly made his way to the phone his feet shuffling across the thick scummy orange shag carpet barefoot.
Rock lit a cigarette irritated that some dumb son of a bitch had the fucking nerve to call him this early in the goddamn day. Rock reached the phone and unplugged it. Whoever it was fuck them thought Rock to himself.
Finally Rock thought to himself. Rock found people to be unbelievably irritating at best.
Rock proceeded to get ready for the dismal day that lay before him. Once Rock had shit, showered, and shaved Rock headed out to the office.
Locking the door behind him he started down the hall of The Royal Hotel lined with various delinquents. The monthly crew of cantankerous characters that inhabited The Royal Hotel, one of the BigCity’s finest flop house, was an unending revolving door of debauchery.
Rock tolerated these assholes because in a flea bag shithole no one sees shit, hears shit or says shit especially the police.
The residents of The Royal were the lowest of the low. There were junkies, hookers, pimps, cults, drunks, drug dealers, shut ins, welfare cases, white trash, Neo Nazi’s (that hangout at the lobby bar), traumatized Vietnam vets, thieves, bikers,and the mentally ill with no family.
It wasn’t always that way though. Back in its heyday The Royal played host to musicians, writers, artists, film makers running the entire gamete of the art world.
Business men booked suites for their corrupt conferences where they found ways to fuck over the working man. The staff was professional and proud to be part of The Royal.
Now Tina “Two Tits” Earner the local hooker was constantly prowling for pricks in the Hotels shitty dive-like bar. Homeless Hank the blocks beloved gutter dwelling bum was living in the lobby. The rest of The Royal was a fucking freak show a goddamn insane circus.
Ignoring the nasty noises of fighting and fucking that bled through the paper thin walls Rock made his way to the downstairs. Rock stopped briefly to shoot the shit with the front desk clerk.
The clerk was an anciently old man who worked the front desk and had for 52 years named Barnabas.
“Whats going on you nasty old bastard?” Rock asked casually with no real interest.
“I’m just a goddamn gargoyle perched on this goddamn stool watching the derelicts and dopers coming and going, it’s an endless parade of the broken and disheveled . Once the sun sets the city streets flood with sinners,” replied Barnabas weirdly staring off into space.
Rock stared at Barnabas wondering if he was senile or just being a mean old shit .
Rock walked briskly to the front door to escape the scum of the Earth confined within the rancid Royal.
Before exiting Rock checked to make sure he had his two faithful companions with him his flask and his revolver. Once he had established he was in possession of both Rock burst out on to the street.
Rock waded through the littered streets coated in filth and grim. The bums lurking in doorways like living corpses that had abandoned all hope in humanity.
The hookers were returning home after a long cold night on the street selling their souls as well as their snatches.
Junkies posted on the corners heckling change from the few regular folk who hadn’t fled the dying neighborhood bathed in decay.
Over laying graffiti adorned the street plastered across walls and any available space was now coated in spray paint.
Rock didn’t mind the dereliction in fact he welcomed it. People are parasites that don’t belong in palaces was his opinion.
At least when your deep in the shit surrounded by the dregs of society you know where you stand.
There is honesty in hooliganism. You can take everything at face fucking value, no bullshit required.
Rock chain smoked a whole pack of cigarettes on his wayward walk to work. So what if smoking led to fucking cancer Rock didn’t give a rats ass what the Surgeon General had to say on the subject.
Rock picked up a couple of new packs of smokes at newspaper stand around the corner from his office. Rock’s office was a located in the Burner building within walking distance from The Royal.
The Burner was a small building sandwiched between to sky scrappers. The Burner had always been a mega for unorthodox and unconventional professions such as psychics, weapons dealers, and in Rock’s case Private Detectives.
As he approached the front door of his office on the 3rd floor of the Burner he saw a person pacing in the dimly lit hallway.
Rock was already wondering what the stranger was all about when the stranger turned towards him and said……………

To Be Continued in
The Deviant Detective Ep.2 : Getting Directions from the Blind.

McCoy’s Artistic Chaos

Les felt exhilarated and full of self righteousness as he drove as fast as humanly possible towards the freeway. Adrenaline was flowing through his veins like water through a flood gate making his skill feel electrified. His senses were all on high alert. As Less banked a right turn onto the freeway the car to fish tailed slightly. His blue tooth began to ring. Goddamnit Les thought to himself, for he knew it was one of two people. It was either his manager Mortimer, or the goddamn cops, but he’d done a good job at avoiding the police. It’s the goddamn media you can’t out run those vultures constantly circling waiting for tragedy and death to strike. Begrudgingly Les switched his blue tooth on as he felt his undying rage he possessed flare up all over again.
“What do you want?!,” demanded Les angrily.
“Les it’s Mortimer, your agent”
“I know who the hell you are Mort, I sign your goddamn paychecks. Not to mention I pay you to be my MANAGER NOT MY MOTHER. I already have one of those, and I haven’t talked to her in eight years AND COUNTING!” yelled Les at the top of his lungs now enraged that Mortimer has called him in the first place.
“Les your on the news again, thats 5 times this month alone,” Mortimer said in a slow authoritative tone like a teacher or librarian.
“FREE PRESS MORTIMER FREE GODDAMN PRESS!” screamed Les as Les’s driving began to become as erratic as his behavior. Les was preoccupied at that moment punching his steering wheel. This was not at all satisfying Les’s explosive anger. The steering wheel was thin and circular so Les’s fists of fury mostly missed it only fueling Les’s animosity.
“Yes, Les free press is good” replied Mortimer condescendingly as he lost patience for Les’s outrageously unpredictable, temper driven, theatrics.
“Les you’ve really outdone yourself this time. I mean, a hit and run Les? seriously why? Why Les do you feel compelled to create not only fine art but unyielding chaos all around you?”
“DON’T be condescending to me you pion!” Les growled, as emotion started to replace logical thought. “That scum of the Earth deserved what he got, and what he got was hit by a car. I WAS DRIVING! SO WHAT?”
“Les for Christ’s sake you tried to drown a critic in the punch bowl. Then you beat another critic of yours with a lawn jockey. NOW you top it all off with a hit and run. Please do tell why, and how this monstrosity came to be.”demanded Mortimer as he took a long draw from a bottle of Pepto Bismol which he kept in a desk drawer for when dealing specifically with Les.
“I was at my opening Deviants of Art, and Phil Edwards from the New Yorker was there. I over heard Phil telling other patrons that my art is over rated and that this was due to my lack of classical training or some shit.”explained Less occasionally stalling as his mind came up with the words faster than Les’s mouth could say them. “This pompous twit had the gaul to dare criticize my work, my work is goddamn invaluable to the art world. My point, is this Mortimer, art is SUBJECTIVE. If art is SUBJECTIVE, why then do I need CRITICS to comment, judge and condemn, my splendid works? Well, I saw that piece of filth Phil walking to his car, and I jumped into a car the valet had just brought around. I crept up behind him, lined up the front right corner of the car with the back of his leg, pounded the pedal to the metal and clipped him with the car. I wasn’t trying to kill the son of a bitch, though being dead would be his greatest accomplishment. I just clipped him to scare the shit out of him, and send him flying through the air. I figured he’d then land and roll across the asphalt. I cannot turn off the fires of my creative passions just because I’m not painting in my studio, it’s not my fault that my artist passion doesn’t translate in real life.”
“You have a good point Les BUT the way you make it leaves a lot to be desired AND NOW you tell me in spite of the already bad situation that you ALSO STOLE A CAR.,” quipped Mortimer like a peeved off parent. “Well, Les what are we going to do about this? You’ve gone to far. I already called in Art Management’s legal team.”
“Fire them for all I care I detest lawyers they’re the art critics of the legal world. Your right Mortimer I’m done with this shit, the art, the openings, the critics. I’ve decided it is time to retire.” Les said sounding rather insane.
“Retire! I don’t care. I’d live longer if you did,” responded Mortimer “But your in real trouble Les. Assault is one thing. Grand theft auto and attempted vehicular homicide is a totally different animal all together.”
“I DON’T CARE Mortimer I’m headed for the Florida Keys. The police can just TRY and locate me in a chain of 1,400 islands. I’m not a moron I’m not going to the obvious spots like KeyWest or KeyLargo or whatever. I’m going to buy one of the little unknown islands to retire to” ranted Les with growing intensity.
“Well, then it was a pleasure, of sorts anyway, working for you and while you are an artist you need to learn to control your artists passions outside of your studio.” Mortimer said in honesty
“Thanks Mortimer for putting up with all my shit and bailing me out countless times,” said Les ambivalently “It’s five o’clock somewhere and thats where you’ll find me.”

The Absolute Insanity in Editing: The 2nd Revision

The Butchers of Backwater:
“The Thrill to Kill to Spill Blood so Fresh,
The Toll of Your Soul shall PAY IN FLESH.”
– Asher Leviticus 1803

As the pungent odor of the smelling salts filled Joel’s nostril he snapped awake as if he was hit by a lighting bolt. His vision was blurred and he strained his eyes to the point of pain squinting to make out where in fact he was. Joel’s head was pounding like there was a giant metronome was banging away in his head to no end. As his eyes adjusted to the dim candle light of the chandelier and various candelabra’s that sent shadows dancing on the walls with wild abandon.The wall paper was so old it had become yellowed and as brittle as parchment over the countless decades. Large pictures of grimly stoic what Joel assumed where family ancestors framed in dingy gaudy gold frames that lined all four walls of the dinning room. Some of the paintings subjects looked some what deformed but Joel dismissed this to the stone faced portraits of the past where no one dared smile. The black and white old time photographs had faded in various degrees from whitened smudged edges to almost fully faded to the point of being almost black in appearance, and the photos as well as the paintings were emotionless poker faces.There were two medical looking candelabras on the table placed at each end these in combination with the chandelier did little to combat the darkness which encapsulated the room
As Joel’s eyes came slowly into focus he could see he was in a rather large dinning room that was reminiscent of the kind of dinning room one would find in a Old Southern Planation farmhouse. Joel was restrained with thick chains that bound his feet together, secured Joel’s arms to the arms of the old oak chair he was situated in. The chains were also coiled around Joel’s torso like a metallic python. Joel was positioned at one end of the table opposite the designated head of the table. Joel strained against the chains to no avail as it became a reality that he wasn’t going anywhere, and was being held as some sort of hostage. There was a full place setting in front of Joel consisting of a antique china plate that was chipped around its perimeter. There were three forks, two spoons and a knife laid out as well that looked like they were old enough to be genuine silver. The cutlery showed it age as oxidation over years had left its trade mark patina giving the appearance that it was tarnished.
Joel became aware of someone talking behind him in a deep commanding voice, and with the distinct drawl like that of a “Southern Gentlemen” from an era long gone.
“Ah, I see our company has risen from his prolonged slumber. I was beginning to fear that you might never be returning to this world of the living, but look at you now. A true testament to a man’s will and his perseverance over that which is problematic.”
Joel still was still struggling with all his might to come fully back to his senses. Questions swarmed Joel’s battered brain like enraged Hornets adding to his continued confusion. Where the hell was he? Who’s house was this?” “How’d he even get here”,but most of all at this particular moment the primary question was “Who was this man and why did he restrain Joel with an excessive amount of chains?”
“Mr. Joel Fletcher you have the definite look of confusion as to where you are and to that which is going on.” the voice said with a slight tone of mockery.
Joel then heard the distinct sound of centuries old wooden floor sighing with long groans and loud creeping sound of someone walking across it. The foot steps were coming closer and closer from behind Joel. Joel tried to hide his increasing anxiety and fought to keep his voice from wavering.
“Who are you, what in the name of christ is going on here? What do you want?” Joel said as his speech increased in its rate of speed. Damnit Joel thought to himself I can’t show weakness, I must remain calm and focused as possible considering the current circumstances.
“Questions abound don’t they Mr. Fletcher and you shall have all the answers you desire shortly I assure you.” The voice said from directly behind Joel so that Joel could smell the stink of cigarette smoke.
Suddenly a very tall and lean elderly man strode out from behind Joel’s seat and quickly crossed the vast dining room in only a couple of strides stopping at the head of the table. The old man was dressed in a crisp brilliantly white suit complete with a bolo tie. For a split second Joel wonder if he had fallen victim to the demented relatives of Cornel Sanders from the KFC advertisements of his youth. The old man had a full beard that was as white as his suit and long shoulder length hair that for some odd reason was as black as the bottom of an abyss. The old man pulled his chair out and took a seat slowly lowering his long and thin body into the chair. The old man crossed his legs and placed rested his arms on the table on either side of a second place setting. The old man reached into his suit jacket and removed a cigarette case like the ones from the 1920’s. He opened the case, removed a cigarette tapping it lightly and deliberately on the exterior of the case. The old man took a few minutes that seemed like an eternity to Joel to locate his Zippo lighter that had some sort of military insignia on it. The old man lit his cigarette taking in the first couple of drags with gusto before exhaling. A cloud of lingering smoke hovered around his head like a demonic mist.
Once Joel’s eyes met the gentlemen stranger the man began speaking again.
“You must pardon our lack of light for dining. You see with my condition, I’m an albino you see, I’m afraid my disadvantaged eyes are rather sensitive to light, thusly we forgo the harsh light of electricity in favor of the softer less offensive light of candles.” said the Gentlemen stranger as he puffed away on his cigarette like it was going out of style.
“We? We who? I only see you and me sitting here.” asked Joel, his voice now quivering uncontrollably now.
“Well then as you are my humble quest allow me to explain. My family name is Leviticus and we have kept our bloodline pure for centuries even before my family made their way to America. My family was of great wealth and status until the civil war tore us asunder. War is hell Mr. Joel. War is hell indeed.” said Mr. Leviticus in a slow and steady tone before a brief pause. “After the war my family was banished if you will, into the backwaters of the Mississippi were they eked out a meager living hunting Alligators and selling their skins. Then came the unfortunate great depression and the rural people of this land left this place to find greener pastures in bigger towns or perhaps the city. My family being tougher than the gator skins they sold decided to stay put for we would not lose the rest of our family to the industrial world beyond the boarders of the bayou.” Mr. Leviticus said longingly with pride as he stared off into oblivion.
“Now alas my brother and I are all that remains of the once great Leviticus Family lineage.” continued Mr. Leviticus who at this point seemed to be talking to himself as he didn’t acknowledge Joel’s presence as he spoke. “Now due to the family tradition of keeping the family bloodline clean and pure there were some issues of health with the later generations such as the deformity of both body and mind. My brother being the last offspring born into this family suffers egregiously from these afflictions you see Mr. Fletcher.”
Just then the massive silhouette of a man filled the immense doorway behind the seated Mr. Leviticus. “Ah Yes dinner is served I do hope you enjoy pork Mr. Fletcher” declared Mr. Leviticus with great pleasure.
“Where is my brother?” Joel asked anxiously as they had been traveling together documenting the impact the oil spill had wreaked upon the Gulf of Mexico and those whose livelihood as fishermen had been destroyed.
“You see Mr. Joel when my brother and I happened upon you and your business partners as well as your aforementioned brother you were all being beaten mercilessly by a group of roving bikers outside a rather unattractive bar in Bella, the text town over from ours. I phoned the police post haste at which point the bikers fled. My brother and I collected y’all, brought you to our family home, mended your wounds and have been caring for y’all ever since.” answered Mr. Leviticus promptly.
Before Joel could get the next question out of his mouth the monstrous silhouette standing in the doorway made its way into the room carrying two dinner plates, one in each hand. The mountain of a man with gnarled and twisted limbs like that of a ancient oak coated in a thick layer of sweat placed a plate in front of Mr. Leviticus delicately. The grotesque giant was where grimy dirt encrusted over alls without a shirt. As Mr. Leviticus’s younger brother made his way over to where Joel was seated the floor boards strained to support the weight of his extremely large frame. The long greasy unkept hair obscured the titans face especially since Mr. Leviticus’s brother tended to walk with his head lowered as if in mourning. Mr. Leviticus’s brother made his way over to Joel where he unceremoniously dropped the plate in front of Joel. The plate crashed down upon the table with a loud clatter which sent some of the meat juice to splatter upon the table.
“ID!” yelled Mr. Leviticus outraged, “You know quite well this is a family heirloom and must be treated with the respect it deserves. Must you be such an uncouth savage brother? Your just lucky that what you lack in the mind you make up for in body. Now leave us and don’t let playing with the food to even enter your minuscule mind.”
Id who had frozen into a statue at the mention of his name cocked his head sideways with his back to his brother Mr. Leviticus as if he was struggling to control his own outrage as the case may be. His gargantuan muscles tightening at ever word that came out of his irritated brother’s mouth. It seemed that Mr. Leviticus’s brother Id was physically affected by his brother’s harsh reprimanding. When Mr. Leviticus was done chastising his younger brother Id promptly bent down and wiped the meat juice off the table with one of his hotdog sized fingers. Id the hastily exited the dining room utilizing the door behind where Joel was seated.
“Please excuse my brother’s lack of manners for he is not as civilized as and your aforementioned brother we and I did warn you his appearance is quite off-putting especially upon the in initial meeting.” said Mr. Leviticus apologetically before continuing “Dig in Mr. Fletcher you need to regain your strength.”
Joel and Mr. Leviticus ate in silence. Joel couldn’t help but notice the pork chops were fresh and succulent unlike any he had had before. The meat was so tender it melted in Joel’s mouth coating his young with the fantastic taste of the meat. The smell of the meat was intoxicating just on its own.
“Pardon me Mr. Leviticus but this pork is divine I’d hate my brother to miss such a grand meal.” Joel said in all honesty.
“Don’t worry Mr. Fletcher your brother is here in spirit and on the plate.” Mr. Leviticus said matter of factly with a slight sneer.
“What the hell are you talking about, what are you saying?” Joel asked in full blown panic his heart pounding as if it was attempting hammer its way through Joel’s ribcage.
“You see Mr. Fletcher when times are tough and food is scarce my family’s motto is “If there is no meat there is always man” and this motto has gotten us through many a lean time in our history. We are you see cannibals of conviction and convenance . My family acquired this trait after my ancestor Barnabas Leviticus spent some time in the Fiji Islands back in 1839,”announced Mr. Leviticus as he leisurely chewed his meal with an air of great satisfaction.
“You have to understand that a key piece of Fijian history revolves around cannibalism as my illustrious great granddaddy four times over found out first hand himself.” Continued Mr. Leviticus with admiration “The indigenous tribes that inhabited the Fiji Islands back then had adopted cannibalism from their long voyage at sea with the lack of adequate nutritious food. This forced the sailors to consume the flesh of the dead for survivals sake. After the land the indigenous tribes cannibalism became a normal part of their diet as more people arrived the competition for natural resources, property and most of all women. Also waring tribes devoured their slain enemies for not just food, but for their mighty victory as well.” Mr. Leviticus took a long sip from his mason jar that most likely contained Moonshine.
A growing grin of sadistic delight let Joel know as far as Mr. Leviticus was concerned he was enjoying the torment he was subjecting Joel to. Joel tired with all his might to process the horror of what he had just been told.
“Barnabas was the great explorer of our family. In the Fiji islands he met and befriended Udre udre who was the chief of one of the more predominate tribes. Barnabas and Udre spent many years together and their bond only strengthened over time as the two became like brothers more than friends.” said Mr. Leviticus triumphantly again taking a long sip from his mason jar of Moonshine before continuing his terrible tale.
“Now the most prevalent part of this story is chief Udre udre, according to the 2003 Guiness World Record, held the title of “most prolific cannibal” having eaten between 872 to 900 people. So as you may of surmised Barnabas learned an extensive about of knowledge on the subject and culture of cannibalism before returning home many year later.”
“Thats fucking insane, your insane!” screamed Joel at the top of his lungs, “This is bullshit!! Your a liar! Your fucking lying you sick son of a bitch!” Joel fought relentlessly at the chains that confined him to the chair trying desperately to free himself.
“Don not act so surprised Mr. Fletcher as this is not the first time you have heard of cannibalism I’m certain of that,” said Mr. Leviticus snidely in a mocking tone. “Id can you summon Mr. Fletchers brother to the table please I would appreciate it so.” Mr. Leviticus said in a booming voice that dominated the room.
Joel was terrified, completely confused and disoriented. His pulse was racing like a jack rabbits on meth, sweet was rolling down his face like a mid summer rain shower. His eyes frantically searched the room finding nothing to hope for. Joel was trapped alone with two cannibal brothers one of which claimed that they killed and cooked his brother. Not only that but the mentally crippling thought that he may have in deed dined upon his brothers flesh drove Joel to the point of lunacy.
The slow solid steps echoed down the hallway as Id returned to the dinning room. Joel’s racing mind was flooding his head with horrible scenarios of torture and death. Joel was so wrought with panic it seemed that he could actually feel his hair growing. Finally Id’s imposing body once again filled the doorway behind Joel his shadow looming over him like a storm cloud waiting out the calm before the storm. Id crept up behind Joel stopping directly behind him. As Id lurked behind Joel could hear the labored breath of Id with the steady deep inhalations that ended more or less in a exacerbated sigh coming from directly above his head, but Joel was to terrified to even entertain the idea of looking up into the face of the monstrosity standing over him.
“Where is my brother you demented backwoods inbred hillbilly son of a bitch where is HE?!” demanded Joel in frustrated anger struggling so hard the chains that bound him rattled like a wind chimes in a hurricane.
“Id if you’d be so kind” said Mr. Leviticus in a monotone voice indicating his boredom with the matter.
Without warning the immense arm swung around in front of Joel and slammed something on the table before withdrawing itself back to its owner standing behind of Joel. It happened so fast that Joel was initially too startled to comprehend what was happening, and sat transfixed by fear like a deer in the headlights of an eighteen wheeler barreling down upon it. Then Joel saw what Id had deposited upon the table in front of him, his brothers severed head.
“JESUS CHRIST ZANDER!” exclaimed Joel in a fevered pitch as he gazed upon his brothers decapitated head.
“Collect yourself Mr. Fletcher your bordering on the hysterical,” commanded Mr. Leviticus who was now scowling in absolute disgust and bitter distain.
“ID, ID come collect what remains of Mr. Fletcher’s brother and take it back to the processing building quick as can be,” said Mr. Leviticus waving his hand royals back and forth as he spoke.
“I think its imperative that you understand that the Leviticus family uses every viable part of the carcass, the last of your brother’s remains will be processed into head cheese,” Mr. Leviticus said sounding more like a man rather than the monster he was.
“Don’t worry Mr. Fletcher you aren’t long for this world yourself so the time of grievance over eating your brother will be short I assure you” said Mr. Leviticus leering as he bent forward running his tongue over his yellow nicotine stained teeth. “You see Mr. Fletcher whats on tomorrow night’s dinner menu is you, but until would you care for some dessert?”

The Absolute Insanity In Editing: The Original

I was talking with my Brother god knows how long ago and I was ranting about how my editing is insane. I’ve actually started editing a piece only to have the end result being a completely different piece all together. I told my brother that extreme editing being part of my writing process takes a good bit of time, and I’m aware people have virtually NO ATTENTION SPAN. My Brother suggested to address my concerns about it by posting an example say an original version, and the the final version in a compare and contrast scenario. Like so many of my Brother’s excellent ideas I fully agreed that would be a perfect solution. I then immediately did nothing about it I just put it to the side. In true fashion though I doubled back and FINALLY have decided to do it.

This is the ORIGINAL version which I wrote for a local writing competition for shits and giggles. There were some CONDITIONS to be dealt with. The rules stated while it could be a horror piece it COULD NOT exceed 1,000 words. Thats not all theres more such as no horror cliches. That meant NO Teens in the woods at a cabin or camp for example. Car/mechanical break downs, eerie/scary sounds, the group CAN NOT split up in anyway, AND the killer had to be human were almost all the rest of the limitations. I honestly don’t remember the rest as this was written a while of go.

Personally I think this piece is just that a piece of shit. The 1,000 limitation wasn’t so much the issue as while I respect and understand why the people throwing the competition banned cliches. the PROBLEM with both of the aforementioned issues cliches are cliches sometimes for a reason. This is one of those times as all those horror cliches are key tools to build suspense and build tension. Without suspense and tension a horror story is at best a shitty thriller (Horror I love, Thrillers are complete shit ,but thats a different story so I digress for now)

I will only post EVERY OTHER Revision as to over burden the readers nor bore them. After I post this I will post the 2 REVISION. I’m current working on the 3 revision currently. Revision 3 will NOT be the Final Version not by a long shot, and I’m not fucking psychic so I have not idea what so ever how many more revisions there will be.

With that said here is the original (in my opinion is childish and utter shit) of:

The Butchers of Backwater

As Joel’s eyes came slowly into focus he could see he was in a rather large dinning room that was reminiscent of the kind of dinning room one would find in a Old Southern Planation farmhouse. Joel was restrained with thick chains that bound his feet together, secured Joel’s arms to the arms of the old oak chair he was situated in. The chains were also coiled around Joel’s torso like a metallic python. Joel was positioned at one end of the table opposite the designated head of the table. Joel strained against the chains to no avail as it became a reality that he wasn’t going anywhere, and was being held as some sort of hostage. There was a full place setting in front of Joel consisting of a antique china plate that was chipped around its perimeter. There were three forks, two spoons and a knife laid out as well that looked like they were old enough to be genuine silver. The cutlery showed it age as oxidation over years had left its trade mark patina giving the appearance that it was tarnished.
Joel became aware of someone talking behind him in a deep commanding voice, and with the distinct drawl like that of a “Southern Gentlemen” from an era long gone.
“Ah, I see our company has risen from his prolonged slumber. I was beginning to fear that you might never be returning to this world of the living, but look at you now. A true testament to a man’s will and his perseverance over that which is problematic.”
Joel still was still struggling with all his might to come fully back to his senses. Questions swarmed Joel’s battered brain like enraged Hornets adding to his continued confusion. Where the hell was he? Who’s house was this?” “How’d he even get here”,but most of all at this particular moment the primary question was “Who was this man and why did he restrain Joel with an excessive amount of chains?”
“Mr. Joel Fletcher you have the definite look of confusion as to where you are and to that which is going on.” the voice said with a slight tone of mockery.
Joel then heard the distinct sound of centuries old wooden floor sighing with long groans and loud creeping sound of someone walking across it. The foot steps were coming closer and closer from behind Joel. Joel tried to hide his increasing anxiety and fought to keep his voice from wavering.
“Who are you, what in the name of christ is going on here? What do you want?” Joel said as his speech increased in its rate of speed. Damnit Joel thought to himself I can’t show weakness, I must remain calm and focused as possible considering the current circumstances.
“Questions abound don’t they Mr. Fletcher and you shall have all the answers you desire shortly I assure you.” The voice said from directly behind Joel so that Joel could smell the stink of cigarette smoke.
Suddenly a very tall and lean elderly man strode out from behind Joel’s seat and quickly crossed the vast dining room in only a couple of strides stopping at the head of the table. The old man was dressed in a crisp brilliantly white suit complete with a bolo tie. For a split second Joel wonder if he had fallen victim to the demented relatives of Cornel Sanders from the KFC advertisements of his youth. The old man had a full beard that was as white as his suit and long shoulder length hair that for some odd reason was as black as the bottom of an abyss. The old man pulled his chair out and took a seat slowly lowering his long and thin body into the chair. The old man crossed his legs and placed rested his arms on the table on either side of a second place setting. The old man reached into his suit jacket and removed a cigarette case like the ones from the 1920’s. He opened the case, removed a cigarette tapping it lightly and deliberately on the exterior of the case. The old man took a few minutes that seemed like an eternity to Joel to locate his Zippo lighter that had some sort of military insignia on it. The old man lit his cigarette taking in the first couple of drags with gusto before exhaling. A cloud of lingering smoke hovered around his head like a demonic mist.
Once Joel’s eyes met the gentlemen stranger the man began speaking again.
“You must pardon our lack of light for dining. You see with my condition, I’m an albino you see, I’m afraid my disadvantaged eyes are rather sensitive to light, thusly we forgo the harsh light of electricity in favor of the softer less offensive light of candles.” said the Gentlemen stranger as he puffed away on his cigarette like it was going out of style.
“We? We who? I only see you and me sitting here.” asked Joel, his voice now quivering uncontrollably now.
“Well then as you are my humble quest allow me to explain. My family name is Leviticus and we have kept our bloodline pure for centuries even before my family made their way to America. My family was of great wealth and status until the civil war tore us asunder. War is hell Mr. Joel. War is hell indeed.” said Mr. Leviticus in a slow and steady tone before a brief pause. “After the war my family was banished if you will, into the backwaters of the Mississippi were they eked out a meager living hunting Alligators and selling their skins. Then came the unfortunate great depression and the rural people of this land left this place to find greener pastures in bigger towns or perhaps the city. My family being tougher than the gator skins they sold decided to stay put for we would not lose the rest of our family to the industrial world beyond the boarders of the bayou.” Mr. Leviticus said longingly with pride as he stared off into oblivion.
“Now alas my brother and I are all that remains of the once great Leviticus Family lineage.” continued Mr. Leviticus who at this point seemed to be talking to himself as he didn’t acknowledge Joel’s presence as he spoke. “Now due to the family tradition of keeping the family bloodline clean and pure there were some issues of health with the later generations such as the deformity of both body and mind. My brother being the last offspring born into this family suffers egregiously from these afflictions you see Mr. Fletcher.”
Just then the massive silhouette of a man filled the immense doorway behind the seated Mr. Leviticus. “Ah Yes dinner is served I do hope you enjoy pork Mr. Fletcher” declared Mr. Leviticus with great pleasure.
“Where is my brother?” Joel asked anxiously as they had been traveling together documenting the impact the oil spill had wreaked upon the Gulf of Mexico and those whose livelihood as fishermen had been destroyed.
“You see Mr. Joel when my brother and I happened upon you and your business partners as well as your aforementioned brother you were all being beaten mercilessly by a group of roving bikers outside a rather unattractive bar in Bella, the text town over from ours. I phoned the police post haste at which point the bikers fled. My brother and I collected y’all, brought you to our family home, mended your wounds and have been caring for y’all ever since.” answered Mr. Leviticus promptly.
Before Joel could get the next question out of his mouth the monstrous silhouette standing in the doorway made its way into the room carrying two dinner plates, one in each hand. The mountain of a man with gnarled and twisted limbs like that of a ancient oak coated in a thick layer of sweat placed a plate in front of Mr. Leviticus delicately. The grotesque giant was where grimy dirt encrusted over alls without a shirt. As Mr. Leviticus’s younger brother made his way over to where Joel was seated the floor boards strained to support the weight of his extremely large frame. The long greasy unkept hair obscured the titans face especially since Mr. Leviticus’s brother tended to walk with his head lowered as if in mourning. Mr. Leviticus’s brother made his way over to Joel where he unceremoniously dropped the plate in front of Joel. The plate crashed down upon the table with a loud clatter which sent some of the meat juice to splatter upon the table.
“ID!” yelled Mr. Leviticus outraged, “You know quite well this is a family heirloom and must be treated with the respect it deserves. Must you be such an uncouth savage brother? Your just lucky that what you lack in the mind you make up for in body. Now leave us and don’t let playing with the food to even enter your minuscule mind.”
Id who had frozen into a statue at the mention of his name cocked his head sideways with his back to his brother Mr. Leviticus as if he was struggling to control his own outrage as the case may be. His gargantuan muscles tightening at ever word that came out of his irritated brother’s mouth. It seemed that Mr. Leviticus’s brother Id was physically affected by his brother’s harsh reprimanding. When Mr. Leviticus was done chastising his younger brother Id promptly bent down and wiped the meat juice off the table with one of his hotdog sized fingers. Id the hastily exited the dining room utilizing the door behind where Joel was seated.
“Please excuse my brother’s lack of manners for he is not as civilized as and your aforementioned brother we and I did warn you his appearance is quite off-putting especially upon the in initial meeting.” said Mr. Leviticus apologetically before continuing “Dig in Mr. Fletcher you need to regain your strength.”
Joel and Mr. Leviticus ate in silence. Joel couldn’t help but notice the pork chops were fresh and succulent unlike any he had had before. The meat was so tender it melted in Joel’s mouth coating his young with the fantastic taste of the meat. The smell of the meat was intoxicating just on its own.
“Pardon me Mr. Leviticus but this pork is divine I’d hate my brother to miss such a grand meal.” Joel said in all honesty.
“Don’t worry Mr. Fletcher your brother is here in spirit and on the plate.” Mr. Leviticus said matter of factly with a slight sneer.
“What the hell are you talking about, what are you saying?” Joel asked in full blown panic his heart pounding as if it was attempting hammer its way through Joel’s ribcage.
“You see Mr. Fletcher when times are tough and food is scarce my family’s motto is “If there is no meat there is always man” and this motto has gotten us through many a lean time in our history. We are you see cannibals of conviction and convenance .” announced Mr. Leviticus with a growing grin of sadistic delight as Joel processed what he had just been told.
“Thats fucking insane, your insane!” screamed Joel at the top of his lungs, “This is bullshit!! Your a liar! Your fucking lying you sick son of a bitch!” Joel fought relentlessly at the chains that confined him to the chair trying desperately to free himself.
“Id can you summon Mr. Fletchers brother to the table please I would appreciate it so.” Mr. Leviticus said in a booming voice that dominated the room.
Joel was terrified, completely confused and disoriented. His pulse was racing like a jack rabbits on meth, sweet was rolling down his face like a mid summer rain shower. His eyes frantically searched the room finding nothing to hope for. Joel was trapped alone with two cannibal brothers one of which claimed that they killed and cooked his brother. Not only that but the mentally crippling thought that he may have in deed dined upon his brothers flesh drove Joel to the point of lunacy.
The slow solid steps echoed down the hallway as Id returned to the dinning room. Joel’s racing mind was flooding his head with horrible scenarios of torture and death. Joel was so wrought with panic it seemed that he could actually feel his hair growing. Finally Id’s imposing body once again filled the doorway behind Joel his shadow looming over him like a storm cloud waiting out the calm before the storm. Id crept up behind Joel stopping directly behind him. As Id lurked behind Joel could hear the labored breath of Id with the steady deep inhalations that ended more or less in a exacerbated sigh coming from directly above his head, but Joel was to terrified to even entertain the idea of looking up into the face of the monstrosity standing over him.
“Where is my brother you demented backwoods inbred hillbilly son of a bitch? Where is HE?!” demanded Joel in frustrated anger struggling so hard the chains that bound him rattled like a wind chimes in a hurricane.
“Id if you’d be so kind” said Mr. Leviticus in a monotone voice indicating his boredom with the matter.
Without warning the immense arm swung around in front of Joel and slammed something on the table before withdrawing itself back to its owner standing behind of Joel. It happened so fast that Joel was initially too startled to comprehend what was happening, and sat transfixed by fear like a deer in the headlights of an eighteen wheeler barreling down upon it. Then Joel saw what Id had deposited upon the table in front of him, his brothers severed head.
“JESUS CHRIST ZANDER!” exclaimed Joel in a fevered pitch as he gazed upon his brothers decapitated head.
“Don’t worry Mr. Fletcher you aren’t long for this world yourself so the time of grievance over eating your brother will be short I assure you” said Mr. Leviticus leering as he bent forward running his tongue over his yellow nicotine stained teeth. “You see Mr. Fletcher whats on tomorrow night’s dinner menu is you, but until then how would you like some dessert?”

America’s Social Problems: The Sickness of a Dying Nation

What are the top 10 American social problems in my opinion?

They Are:
1. What The war in the middle East
2. Police corruption
3. Financial inequality
4. Out sourcing jobs
5. The legal system
6. The media
7. The healthcare system
8. The Pharmaceutical industry
9. The Prison system
10. The war on drugs

I will briefly summarize my reasoning behind the issues on the aforementioned list in no particular order. I believe them all to be extremely problematic and detriment to American society none being any more or less than the others.

The number one thing that baffles me to no fucking end is America has been at War in Afghanistan from 2001-2014 and less than a year after the 9/11 terror attacks America forgot about. It was like with previous war such as WWI and WWII where America rallied together as a nation against evil and all that shit. Nor was it like the Vietnam war where ACTUAL BATTLE COVERAGE was shown on the nightly news. The media just transitioned back into ignorant oblivion. Not only that but America was at war with Iraq at the EXACT SAME TIME, SIMULTANEOUS FUCKING WARS. IS that all, NOPE. America was involved in the Libyan Cicil War in 2011 in Libya. America ALSO is currently at war (and has been since 2004) in North-West Pakistan, War in Afghanistan (AGAIN) 2015-Present, AND from 2014 to present America is also at War on ISIL 2014-Present in Iraq/Libya/Syria and Nigeria. My Bottomline: WHERE IS THE MEDIA COVERAGE and WHY THE HELL DON’T AMERICANS ACKNOWLEDGE THEIR COUNTRY IS STILL WARING IN THE MIDDLE EAST?! I digress for now.

When it comes to the issue of outsourcing its a doubled edged sword to say the least. While the outsourcing of American jobs created a massive nation wide unemployment crisis (that all but eliminated the American middle class.) slowly American corporations are bringing jobs back stateside. Yet while American corporations are bringing jobs back to the U.S. they are paying their employees half or less of their previous salary while working them three times as hard with few to no benefits. In the end American employees are being exploited so big companies can save on shipping costs.

All I will say on the subject of financial inequality is it has NEVER BEEN GREATER. With the near destruction of the Middle Class due to outsourcing, shitty Market, and Predatory Loans America has never come closer to being one of the 3rd world Counties we have Charity Ads for (Think “For just the price of a cup of coffee you can provide food, education and healthcare for….”) Financial Equality has also been exacerbated by the increasing commercialism of the American public for increasing profits. YOUR PAYING TO BE ALIVE. CAN YOU SAY HEALTH INSURANCE?!

The War on drugs has been and continues to be a complete undeniable failure. Even Mexico who was America’s tag team partner after 40 years admitted the war was lost mainly due to the way it was being fought. Drugs are not living things so really how the fuck do you declare war with inanimate objects so to speak?! Dealing with the addiction instead of fighting it (again declaring war upon a disease/mental disorder) We already saw alcohol prohibition not only FAIL SPECTACULARLY but also it had serious side effects like ORGANIZED CRIME because the moral to this twisted tail is PEOPLE WILL DRINK NO MATTER WHAT. It should be painfully obvious that the cliche “those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it” applies here when it comes to the war on drugs. Yet not only has the war on drugs failed so monumentally, but the Big AMERICAN Pharmaceutical Companies along with the FDA caused/created the current Opiate Addiction.

Why You Ask could this happen? Pharmaceutical companies created SYNTHESIZED MAN MADE HEROIN in many shapes and names Vicodin, Oxycontin, Percocet, Fentanyl (patches) and the FDA allowed the Consumer Market to be FLOODED with BILLIONS OF NEW PRESCRIPTIONS without fully examining or learning the problematic issue of addiction they just wanted TO CASH IN AS FAST AS POSSIBLE at the expense of the American Public. I will digress for now.

Accept the AmericanHealthcare System went for helping the sick and injured to TOTAL CAPITALIST MAKEOVER. Patients equal Profits. If you don’t have insurance RAPING YOUR BANK ACCOUNTS while providing LESS AND LESS services. Fucked Up Fact: It Costs $1,200 to $1,500 a DAY to stay in the hospital. THATS JUST FOR THE FUCKING ROOM, THE ACTUAL SPACE and Nothing Else. Hospitals started to charge for EVERYTHING and they charge it all separately. You pay for medications BY PILL hence the joke of the $11 hospital aspirin.
The social problem that I have extreme fucking difficulty examining without personal judgment is the subject of police corruption (which includes police brutality and misconduct as well as corruption and breaking ANY and All was.)
The reason I would be so judgmental on the topic of police corruption is the problem is escalating through out all 50 states of America. Police officers are being charged with planting evidence, thief/robbery, assault, rape and murder. The COPS have BECOME the CRIMINALS. The cliche for this one is the “If you work with monsters make sure you don’t become one” saying. Thanks to the internet combined with Social Media and the prevalence of Smart Phones equipped with video cameras are exposing rampant illegal police activity increasingly on a daily basis. Also in cases where a corrupt police officer is charged with a crime up to and including murder they are put on paid leave until their court date. THATS A PAID FUCKING VACATION.

Once the police officer ends up in court the prosecutor, District Attorney and the presiding judge all weigh in on the side of the police officer resulting in the police officer being absolved of all charges and sent back to work. YOU GOT IT NO PRISON TIME THEY GET TO CO RIGHT BACK TO THEIR FUCKING JOBS. Virtually none of the corrupt police officers caught and charged with a crime(s) ever serve time in prison unless its time for a sacrificial lamb of a scape goat to “Make an example out of” when the public outrage is at a high. It actually MEANS NOTHING.

Lastly lets address the controversial subject of the law abiding police officers (referred to as “the good cops”) who have never broken a single law protect the corrupt police officers under the accepted “Code of Silence” This meaning quite simply the good police officers will not report or assist in the prosecution of corrupt police officers no matter how egregious the charges or conduct. So I’m calling HUMONGOUS BULLSHIT THERE. Its a Real Life Get Out of Jail Free Card for corrupt cops.

When it comes to the Legal System all I will say for now anyways. When I got arrested and charged with a Felony I was lucky enough to be able to afford a lawyer with a excellent reputation and connections. The first time I met with him in his office he said the following and I will remember it to the day I fucking die:

“You have to know what where dealing with here. You see there 3 kinds of Laws and there’re Rich People Laws, White People Laws and Minority Laws.” He meant if I had been Rich I’d get off easy, White people can get in trouble, but have the benefit of the court on their side so good chance I wouldn’t serve time and if I was minority I’d be going to jail no if, ands or buts.

As far as the Prison system goes all I can say is Over crowding and inhumane conditions are ongoing problems BUT PRIVATIZING PRISONS a PRISONER FOR PROFIT system your guaranteeing peoples rights will be violated (to keep them in or send them to prison) because your not a defendant YOUR A FUTURE CLIENT/CUSTOMER. CUSTOMER SERVICE AT ITS WORST.

The Media has become a fucking farce. The media stopped doing honest and worthy reporting to cater to the ongoing moronic American Public. The Media humped on wagon with Social Media make both products shittier. Now between biased news, fake fucking news,fluff pieces and FCC it may not have been what America wanted but its what it fucking got. Reality TV was the beginning of the end of all Media. No one cares about the American GI thats killed in the ongoing War, BUT PEOPLE SHIT OVER THE FUCKING KARDASHIANS. Think about it.

America is Cannibalizing Itself replacing the Constitution with Commercialism. Your NO LONGER a citizen of the country of American, you consumer client of American Inc. LLC. The government, the Pharmaceutical companies and Big Business Corporations ARE COMMERCIALIZING EVERY ASPECT OF YOUR LIFE FOR PROFIT.

The America we all came to love is gone, there is no longer an American Dream.

Technology’s Battle Over The 4th Amendment Continues

George Orwell wrote in his novel 1984 of a future America where the government tracks its civilians through monitors placed everywhere thus illuminating all personal privies of any sort. In todays society that so deeply embraces expanding technology we can see that the fictitious government controlled world that Orwell wrote about is on the verge of becoming a reality.
In the article “U.S. and Apple dig in for court fight over encryption” by Devil Barrett ( in Washington DC) and Daisuke Wakabayashi (in San Fransisco) published in theWall Street Journal we can see the possible future framework of a government that can spy on any of its civilians using technology.
The controversy surrounds the December 2nd terrorist attack by mass murderer Syed Rizwan Farook and his wife in San Bernardino California in which the two opened fire on an office holiday party killing 14 people as well as injuring an additional 22 people during the attack. In lieu of the incident the Federal Bureau of Investigation of American requested the help of the global technology company Apple. The FBI requested Apple help them with their on going investigation into the incident by having Apple dis-encrypt attacker Farook’s cell phone to search for further information such as accomplices or future terrorist attack plan. Apple’s CEO Tim D. Cook flat-out denied the FBI’s request for the dis-encryption of Farook’s phone. The FBI took their case to judge Sheri Pym who passed an order requiring Apple to assist the FBI in circumventing Farook’s encrypted password. Judge Pym’s order gave Apple 5 days in which to comply with the courts or challenge the ruling, which Apple CEO Tim D. Cook has already vowed to do.
This is article is an excellent example of the Value-conflict’s Ameliorative theology. This is due to the fact that all Americans can agree that when it comes to terroristic acts of violence that the perpetrator’s should be stopped before they can harm a single person, but is the position of the American government that it should be allowed to hack into anyone ones technical devices (such as smart phones, laptops and tablets with the help of Apple) whenever they deem it a necessity to prevent a future terrorist incident the way to insure the safety of American citizens?
The dilemma arising from the December 2nd shooting is in the FBI’s request to not only have Apple assist in the dis-encryption of Farook’s phone but having Apple lower their encryption software to allow the government a “Back Door” that would allow them to access anyone’s technical device and access all personal information held within as well as to track people’s every movement. Yet if Apple complies with the FBI’s future back door plan the low security would not only allow the American government to hack a person’s phone but criminals, identity thieves and foreign governments as well as long as they had the device number.
So there is one sect of society believes that no matter what Apple should automatically comply with any and all of the FBI’s requests while another sect of society believes that assisting the FBI even in dis-encrypting just one iPhone would open Pandora’s box at the top of a very slippery slope that leads to the government accessing the technology used by its citizens for the simple purpose of spying on them under the gneiss of National Security/Anti-terrorism activity.
The question is in the end too combat future attacks should American’s surrender their 4th amendment rights, those rights that protect them from unlawful search and seizure to assist the American government’s ongoing fight against terrorism?

This reminds me of another book Joseph Heller by the name of “Catch 22”. We already know the NSA has been using the excuse of fighting terrorists/terrorists attacks to actually SPY on its citizens.

So the real question at hand is simply this: Has the Media and American Government INSTILLED SO MUCH FEAR into its citizens that those citizens give them access to ALL THERE TECHNOLOGY (Phones, Laptops, Pcs, Tablets etc.)

I think the fucking fear of a corrupt government currently run by a moronic man-child and his crew of self serving billionaires, Racists,Anti-semetics, Russia loving sexists are already running amok on the American people JUSTIFIYING THEIR ACTIONS BASED ON FEAR NOT FACTS.

This is the 1st Propaganda promoting American President. You want those scumbags to have 24-7 access to ALL of your private lives?! I think that fear of a omnipresent and oppressive government is A REAL AND PRESENT DANGER.

DON’T SUCCUMB TO THE FALSE FEARS.

The Hypocrisy of the FCC has NO JURISDICTION Here.

Disclaimer Statement: I once again must raise the issue of America’s 1st Amendment giving Americans the god given right to say whatever they want however they want, BUT America also has the FCC. The FCC totally undermines the 1st Amendment as the FCC’s sole job is the CENSORSHIP of any and all forms of media. The FCC devised the rating systems for television, the movies and music. They also have the power to out right ban or completely shut down anyone that violates their “Codes of Ethics” essentially. This is one of the worlds LARGEST OXYMORONS in the entire History of Man.

NOW FOR THE BUSINESS AT HAND:

I do not endorse censorship in any way, shape or form and as such I fully exercise the 1st Amendment here at f-yourblog.com, and will allow ANYTHING when it comes to content of articles posted.

Now I am also painfully aware that the American public is NOT as accepting, tolerant or open minded as they claim or think they are. There are also whole organizations outside of the aforementioned FCC that crusade against whatever they find “offensive”.

SO what am I going to do?!

I don’t want to deal with any insulted, angry, offended or self righteous people or groups because I have far better things to do with my time rather than to hear constant bitching. I ADVISE ANY READER IN QUESTION refer to an earlier post made pertaining to the “Mission Statement” of f-yourblog.com. to help avoid initial issues/problems.

f-yourblog.com IS NOT FOR ANYONE UNDER 18 AND HONESTLY WITH NEW UPCOMING CONTENT SHOULD BE ANYONE OVER 21, BUT I DIGRESS.

f-yourblog.com IS NOT FOR EVERYONE or a MAINSTREAM AUDIENCE or GENERAL PUBLIC.

f-yourblog.com is a niche for unconventional and unorthodox writers who have trouble getting their writing out to their audience due to restrictions either by the government (FCC) or restrictions of publishers based on their view of the reading public (i.e. Moral/Ethical issues)

THUSLY this is how I will handle the subject of subject matter here at f-yourblog.com.

I will issue WARNINGS to potential readers if and only if the posted article has 1 or more of the following:

GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, not mild nor moderate violence ONLY GRAPHIC VIOLENCE. To help clarify my point here is the article reads like a modern horror movie that falls under the newly named “Torture Porn” I will give you the curtesy of mentioning it at THE TOP of the article. This is to help insure readers who aren’t fans of such writing won’t be subjected to it.
SEX OR NUDITY, Only if the the article has pornographic content at the level of an actual porno movie I will give the readers a heads up as well since America is Sexually Repressed to say the least.
DISTURBING SUBJECT MATTER, this includes things such as Suicide, Death, Self Harm, Hardcore Drug Use, Cannibalism, Incest, Murder, Satan/Occult, Necrophilia etc. Basically any social Taboo with have a Reader’s Warning.

THERE ARE 1 TOPIC THAT WILL NOT BE TOLERATED HERE AT f-yourblog.com and that topic is Pedophilia. Even I Less Sober have at least one line I will NEVER CROSS and thats publishing posts pertaining to, including or endorsing pedophilia. I believe pedophiles should be castrated in public and allowed to bleed out ( bleed to death). In my mind the only good pedophile is A DEAD ONE (Remember guns kill pedophiles dead for only 50 cents or the current price of a bullet.)