THE RELIGIOUS PSYCHO KILLERS SHIT LIST

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.

A BASTOON OF TRUE FREEDOM IN A WORLD CONDENSED INTO POLITE CONVERSATIONS. I HAVE SITES ALL OVER THE PLACE THAT YOU CAN SEE MY OTHER SIDES WITHIN.
http://theelvesattic.blogspot.com/
http://wakingupjesus.blogspot.com/

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.

Saturday, July 09, 2005

THE RETALIATOR

He stays in bed late, recovering from a sleepless night; the darkness was filled with mental disruptions, images that made him panicky, hyper.

He moves through his apartment feeling his back aching and a need for coffee and nicotine. He goes into the living room and picks up a red pouch and papers, rolls some tops cherry tobbacco into a smoke, goes out into kitchen and pours himself the last of the coffee from the day before, slops in milk and heads back into the living room. The dog is sleepily laying in front of the tv, the gray cat in the carpeted round perch on top of his scratching post, hovering at about the same level as the tv.

He picks up the remote and begins flipping across the channels. The huge screen fills with a double decker bus exploding into scrapnel and body parts; a black smoke envelopes the scene as people run about half crazed. Ambulances come next, then learned looking men and dressed up newscasters discussing the irony of a terrorist attack in London on the day after they got the Olympics, forcing them to go from celebrating a sign of the solidarity of civility in in all governments, to mourning their dead and drawing lines in the sand...

There is a subway and people running and screaming and smoke and stories of breaking out windows with their bare hands to get oxygen into the cars.

He takes the black book bag out of the closet, looks inside at the wires and the timer... He has practiced the walk to the Mosque for weeks, preparing for the strike back. The bombing in London seems to him the perfect timing for a blow at the muslim fundamentalists. It's almost a relief to be leaving the fucked up world.

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