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.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005


You are an ex navy seal, trained into a deadly machine that was sent out to roam the african plains slaughtering armies of drugged kiddy soldiers.

You know your training has kept you alive through some deep shit. Civilian life is boring and you never make the kind of money you wish you had. This war in Iraq breaks out, and you know they are going to bring in all kinds of mercenaries and shit to protect the economic infrastructure of the fledgling governement.

You call someone you know at the CIA, or the NSA, or the NAVy Intelligence, or just plain old Military Intelligence.... They tell you that the 25 million dollar bounty is one hell of a nut, and speculate that the lucky bounty hunter who catches that camel shit breath is going to buy an island and live THE FUCKING HELL OF HIS LIFE. Or something else that pushes your buttons.You go to Iraq. Maybe spend your own buck on the weapons and flight --"An investment," You tell your girlfreind.

You now have to get information from a population that can't be seen talking to you and expect to live out the month. Even the ones who agree with your politics are dramatically more concerned with staying alive at the moment.

You are tough, beyond giving a shit if an enemy cries out. You are all about the mission. Your focus is to find the mo-fo's who bombed the trade tower and were conspiring right now to blow you and yours ass right off this little rock in space. You do not feel the pain that you inflict on an enemy. They are a tool to complete the mission, no more a cause of mercy than his a wrench.

You have been trained, by the government that you faced death for, to torture. You have been told to get thsi information by any means -- and that came straight from the fucking president. He signed a paper telling you," Go ahead and cut up those sand niggers."

You spend a few days watching the streets, seeing if you can spot someone from the other side. When you start thinking that doesn't work, you decide to grab some of them arabs and make them talk. IF you find the right one, you will get 5, 10, maybe 25 million... you can be elmer fudd and buy a mansion and a yacht. A cab driver seems like someone who knows who is who.

You and your men wave him down, have the cabbie drive you right to the safe house -- his prison. You tie his ankles with scratchy rope and hang the target upside down from hooks that you put up in the ceiling.

He tells you about some guy who you know the cia will want, you shoot your way into a compound, take out an old man and a couple kid-soldiers. You know the target by a picture the military passed out to all the 'bounty hunters' who had come to iraq. You turn him over to some marines and collect a clean and clear sixty grand. You and your me n celebrate, drink to how totally fucking rich you are going to be.

Now, you can't let the cab driver go, or someone is going to talk to him from some goddamn newspaper or whatever the hell...copywrite john scott ridgway 2004

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