Welcome to the mind of John Scott Ridgway. Beware falling rocks and angels.

YOU ARE ABOUT TO ENTER WHAT THE INTELLIGENCE COMMUNITY CALLS THE 'WITTING.' The implication being anyone who doesn't know what is truly going on in the world is 'unwitting.' I have an academic/artist background that includes three books, oil painting, radio and tv... though mostly, I write on the web and give the words away. Better read than dead, I always say. I studyied military intelligence, cults, english, history, and philosophy, among other subjects that I took in my quest to have something to say in my work.... I am proud to say I studied under peaceful warriors, like Dr. Danial Stern, an icon in the sixties who hung out with the panthers, dealt with agent provocaters, spies.


Find me on facebook at john scott ridgway... there are two of me... one is active. I trust you can figure it out. Doing a lot of stuff there. Basically showing my daily trek throughout the dozens of papers I peruse while waiting in some bush, pr parked somewhere, you know, out stalking, or whatever, you know... hunting humans, maybe... but not in an illegal way. Really.

I urge you to try out my new Jesus, blog, too. He is nothing like you have read before. This creature from the planet Heaven is mistaken for an alien, a cult leader, a terrorist.... Military intelligence agents and secrets are thrown all over in this blog.... please spread my writing whereever forfree... The book is not just for Christians. I am almost an agnostic... I, Christ... will lead you to heaven, or at least give you a lot to think about. After years of getting mostly a's in college, I can at least parrot a few things you have not heard.

Sunday, December 26, 2004

I pretended like I was sicking the dog on this old lady and someone was killed.

Does this make me bad?

I could see this woman's fingers start shaking a half block away from the Ruby, her eyes widening as she came closer to my wolf looking dog -- who was smiling and thus showing a lot of teeth... I practically had to step off the sidewalk, wait until she got her motorized wheel chair up right beside me, and then release Ruby, who is always anxious to run up and kiss and strangers and was indeed pulling at her leash toward the lady, as I screamed, "Kill her boy, kill!!!"

There was this high pitched sceam and blue hair bouncing as she tried to speed off on the ice and lost control, fell over in front a guy on a bike and got run over . . . and then her damn coat got all splashed with blood when the bicyclist's nose was scrapped off on the sidewalk. This is not my fault, and I don't think I should have to pay to clean her damn coat. I mean, I was merely trying to give her a little thrill, you know? Like a roller coaster ride or something like that. She should be thanking me. Tell that to the cops and M..

I had no idea all of this mayhem would occur, and as such, no matter what M. says, I am keeping the video footage that I made... so what if it does make me laugh like 'an evil hyena?' I mean, like I told that damn skeptic, M., -- I only laugh to hide my tears..... Really.You should see this footage.

Did I mention the guy lost his nose? It was laying there on the sidewalk. I walked up and picked it up and told the guy, "I have your nose."M. says I was being thoughtless, but hey -- the guy needed a laugh. By the way, I didn't know he was dead yet, or I wouldn't have wasted the energy kicking him when he didn't laugh at the nose joke.You know, much to my surprise, I just realized that there is actually a lesson to this meandering, memoirish mourning...You see, the bicyclist died and couldn't call M. and get her all upset, or threaten to sue us, or convince that cop that she wasn't senile and had not attacked Ruby while screaming that she was spike the vampire, like I told him... That sorrily deluded officer got so mad that he asked me If I was insane, or just needed an ass kicking. M. did not come to my defense, of course... in fact, she told the cop, "He is insane, but that doesn't mean he doesn't need his ass kicked."

Well, you are probably waiting for the moral of this story.. that would be, if I had it do all over again, I would have saved myself a hell of a lot of hassles by stomping on the old ladies head until her brains squirted out her wrinkly little ears. M. thinks this is would be 'just horrifying.'

When she said this, I was like, "Well, yea, so?"
Turns out, she explained to me, in M speak, 'horrifying' is somehow bad.
"Tell that to George Romero," I told her...

She refused to see the light, just stubbornly held onto her ignorance and still thinks I would be do something 'bad,' by saving us hassles, which is so achingly obviously good....

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