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, April 06, 2005


Thesis Statement: This entry is a wave of my wand of words over the heads of a few elite soldiers who are being groomed to take over Paintopia should my life be cut by short by my enemies among the wombat lovers camp, or M. Gets particularly pissed at me and makes good on the threats that I am pretty sure are still jokes. It is a sad thought that these furry little patriots will still be fighting even after the cats and dog have eaten my flesh (if M. Is indeed the executioner standing at the end of my fate, at least; she claims she will do this if I, quote, 'end up getting yourself killed with these hamsters'). I would tear up if I was some pussy when I think of those multi colored little fuzzies out there miraculously raging a guerilla battle, leaping out at throats from air ducts, attacking ankles from sewers, and springing out from plenty of other top secret places, too, you can bet ...

I have them trained to fight in all environments, of course... Or at least that is the plan. So far, newspaper and cedar chips and a short foray out onto the balcony are the only environments they have been drilling on(by the way, when I took them out onto the balcony, just how the fuck was I to know that some of them were suicidal? M. Totally blames me for these hamsters exploding in the courtyard, too).

By then I will rule most civilized zones, mind you, and where you live is one of those places, all right, so FEAR ME and, and when I COMMAND, SEND frigging hamsters!!!

Okay, this elite leadership board has to be more than just the fighting droids, the primary ground forces that I am raising in the 24 hour access storage space that M. Rented down the street for her collectible toys (She decided to get them out of here because... Well, to be honest, I kept opening the pristine, collector-drooling-over packages and playing with the G.I. Joes' and garnishes and Pee Wee Herman and... Well, too many toys to remember now... I simply could not help myself when I got really, really stoned, I am afraid; some things, no matter how much I try to resist, they are too tempting for me in certain (un)frame(d)s of mind-- and this was like having pikes of toys laying around looking like a Christmas morning and tempting me every excruciating doggone day). The leaders can't have the same black and white view as the brigades bunked down in storage bin, obviously, since they will be setting the moral stage for the rest of mankindÂ’s little drama on this rock, and I will not have the continuation of destructive, black and white, bianary thinking as one of my legacies.

So this document, as this thesis statement should make clear, if my English degree is worth the piece of skin cut out of that damn, uneducated sheep, should record the cultural input that I have been subjecting the leadership board to, in my attempt to give them a well rounded view of how to rule humans.

Like a modern day Machiavelli, this text is grandiosely supposed to be the new prince's educational coloring book. Something has to replace the bible they have been using lately… I mean, let’s face it, politics and religion are getting all muddled, always have been, and until religion, the shit on the souls of all of our feet, is wiped off, there ain’t going to be no way to keep the rug clean. Like the environmental crap that I am always bitching about in here (and did actual hands on work once for like a year during my four or five years when I worked in politics – before finding out that I had crawled into a pit of scum where I was surrounded by comrades I didn’t care to fight with and basically getting my ass kicked, and being paid off with a patronage job (which is still, this being twenty years ago, the most money I have ever made). These hamsters have to use the humans to clean up the mess they have made. I figure the Bears will come over at some point, and after using every method possible to breed as many of them as possible (including using women, and other compatible species, for cub gestation), they can become the cops. No one would fuck with a grizzly bear in full body armor with a double-barreled shotgun firing small missiles capable of blowing an SUV off the road and right into a flaming hell.


As if it all isn’t . . . I am sick of my orders for the hamsters to keep a strictly strategic silence in the presence of all humans, with the exception of me, who they refer to as, “The Beloved God War,” as some ridiculous indication that my army cannot talk, let alone take orders. M. seemed to infer this last night with the statement, “I know you are calling all of this research for a book, at least lately, but I am telling you, if you think you have a rat’s ass of a chance of building some little army to protect the apartment, I am going to make that doctor up your meds again. Or lower them, depending… you are lucky you are cute, I’m telling you.”

Back to thesis statement sanctioned prose..

The DEMOCRATIC, AUTOCRATIC, SOCIALIST HAMSTERÂ’S HIGH COUNCIL OF LEADERSHIP is being kept in a cage on the mantel over out white painted, some thirty years fireless, fireplace. This weekend I have been teaching them about the need to live to the fullest, to take command of our environments and confront evil with brute force, by subjecting them to repeated viewings of Donny Darko. The film, including the loud rock sound track, gets them into a heightened state of thinking where their urge to live is at its highest (this is the interpretation I am giving them, despite some religious mumbo jumbo in the directorÂ’s commentary). I then switch to combat training films.
The God OF War loves you. Really. 2 of 2
by Scott Ridgway

4:52 PM
Once it was a pretty big secret, before the blogs startering blathering about it... that TheThree Stooges Movies are the most effective combat training films ever shot. So of late I have been teaching my reluctant rodents the deadly fighting style that the intelligence community calls, The Ear Flick of Death, by exposing the troops to the most devious and highly secret training method for assasines that the minds at the CIA ever came up with. I mean, those films have penetrated every culture, creating killers all over the world.... and the CIA lost control of most of them, unfortuantly. Ossama Bin Laden is probably the most known example; he specializes in the often underrated tactics of the deadly Zeppo School of Stoogery; in fact, my resources can pretty much be sure that Bin Laden has a projector welded to his dialysis machine and a small screen on his wheel chair, so he can watch the Stooges Training Films and be reminded at all times of the deadly nature of his martyrdom-he hardly keeps a secret of how proud he is of this, beleive me, and his freinds are pretty sick of hearing him go on about it, but who can blame them for saying something that will get them shot?.

Most critiques and biographers have remained quiet about the deadly slapping and ear flicking that was taught to hand to hand combat specialists throughout the world.

Why? Well, at the risk of just informing you about something you've already read... first, the government, of course, didnÂ’t want their deadly moves falling into soviet hands. Later, the remaining students of Master Curly let it be known that anyone who wrote about them, or certain of CurlyÂ’s indiscretions, would be beaten to pissing and twitching.

And this was no idle threat. They carried it out, oh yea.... Who could even guess how many times? Enough to make the main stream media shut up, that is for sure.

I have had limited success in getting the hamsters interested, though I have been lecturing them heartily and I am sure they will come along... fuck those neighbors banging on the walls and poking on the floor and...

That schtick might look like slapstick on tv but when used on another human being in real life, is quite a deadly form of martial arts. Curly was the real leader of course, the one who ended up opening the schools. He was called, in FBI notes written at the time, to be, America's Premiere Killing Machine. That's why they covered up all those people he killed in bars, and everyone else who fell victim to one mean, mean ass drunk.

People just used to ‘disappear’ from the Stooge sets, but the power of the Stooges was such that not even the cops would fuck with the popular often trio.

I guess Moe was just as cranky in real life, wouldnÂ’t hold back on some caterer who brought him cold corned beef, and in fact killed perhaps dozens of personal assistants over the years before getting old enough to be pussy whipped by any fine young thing that could wrinkle up her pretty nose and take on an old geezer if thatÂ’s what it takes for a few furs.

After the Stooges, I like to show them Donny Darko again, then blast them with a few hours of a tape I made of me reading lists of slogans that they can use to lead the masses of humans and other animals who they will need to martial to first save the earth, and then give all animals the rights they deserve. After we take over a few genetic labs, I am going to immediately start them working on growing and inserting vocal cords so that various species speech when it comes time to give the humans a really good bitching out for fucking up the planet so bad and a zillion other things that the will probably fill the courts for decades.

Slogans like, "SEE AN ASSHOLE, FIRE AWAY.”



Oh, I could go on listing the slogans all day I suppose if I thought it would do any good. You get the ideaÂ….. or do you? Probably not.

Today, in a continued program said to be sponsored by alein invaders that is meant to mess with our collective heads, some of you humans will be pulled out of your every day life and thrown into a room filled with men who seem to hate you, and they are interrogating you about someone you met at school and had lunch onceÂ… heÂ’s done something, they wonÂ’t tell you what, and they think you know more than you will tell themÂ… they beat you until you say whateverÂ… you admit guilt to things they donÂ’t even think you could have doneÂ… when they realize you are lying to them, they throw you in a cell for a year. Occasionally, out of nowhere, you are dragged from this cell, stripped naked and forced to endure the most disgusting shit you can think of.. A year later, upon your release, you will required to be thankful to your captors, and help them rebuild your country as if nothing has happened. I guess you probably know it, but it bears repeating, that the most likely evil aleins want to make sure that humans never just kind of shrug and laugh at themselves and move beyond war and start spending all their money and ingenuity towards star trekking out into the gorgous, endless cosmos and end up fucking things up there. I guess you probably know too that the aleins are encouraging the greenhouse effect, funding the religious rights take over of politics here, and the muslims taking over of politics over there, and... well, who am I to second guess superior aleins, but I still will, of course.... another of the hamsters slogans is, "See an evil alein, call in a mortar attack."

I'm telling you, denizens of this elf, the only way to put a dent in the monsters head is to rally the hamsters and send them to me... well, actually I am now accepting only cash, after the postal worker who delivers here was mawled by a particularly viscious hamster (and I applaud the twisted mind who sent this crazed killer with little razors already taped to his toes, and I do not blame them for causing me to now have to take money instead of proud, valiant hamsters). Oh, perhaps I am kidding myself... fat lot of good a bunch of unruly, stinky rodents can probably make... but, like martin luther king, ghandi, and Bono.... I just have to try, man...

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