THE RETURN OF THE MIGHTY HAMSTER ARMY!!

They will be called, 'The Mighty Beat Them To Pisses And Twitches Hamster Army,' as soon as I can figure out how to fit that on the breast of their little green field jackets. You better be afraid of them.... I tell ya.... cause they are going to tear your little world apart.

Yes, the mighty beat them to pisses and twitches hamster army is once more on the move. All is top secret at this point, and that of course means that if M. finds out about the hamsters, all is lost... the free world, everything, will just go down the crapper. I have had no luck convincing M. of the urgency of my mission, damn nay sayer she is, so I have no choice but to lie to her, in the interest of security here at the elves attic. She won't miss those collectible toys that I had to throw out until long after the army I am raising there has taken over the world and promptly replaced her toys with even better ones... she'll see this is all for her benefit in the end, or I would not be trying to be all tricky with her about the army. I am not good at tricking her, to be honest, and am surprised I have held out the four days it has taken my new hamsters to be trained.

I am expecting that any day now I will be contacted by various intelligence agencies wishing to use the trained minds of my hamster demolition squads to start checking out tunnels and caves for the scardy-ass human soldiers. These babies will die for the cause, and the news does not do any body counts on hamsters, so there will be no reason for the american public to have decide how many of their lower middle class kids they will trade to get the job done? ((Unfortunatly for those lower middle class kids, the guys deciding how many of them will die have never been to war, and would not think of allowing their children to actually fight, like some damn peasent...)).

Not that I am anti war... in fact, war gives me a chance to finally take the american government for a change, rather than the usual situation where I bitch and moan for a lubricant that just ain't coming.... by renting out some soldiers.

Half the people in the war zone are civilians. So why not at least half the hamsters? I am sure they are using hamsters now, though I know there is a place for mine, who will prove much more cost effective, but more importantly, will include bribes and goodies for all concerned in the decision to hire my army.

I have spent the day making them watch old epsiodes of Black Sheep Squadron, to instill in them a sense of comradership. I am pretty sure it is working, because they are humping the hell out of each other. M. would probably be quick to point out that the hamsters hump each other just as hard to the news caste, and indeed the television in their storage space need hardly be on for them to break out into prolonged humps. . . but I know, dammit, that they are being shaped into a fighting force by the subliminal messages in Black Sheep Squadron.

Tommorrow, I plan on teaching them advanced weaponry, by showing them all twenty seven Rambo movies, even the one where he converts to being a deer and marries Bambi in the first inner-species gay marriage.

I fear them myselves sometimes. I mean, if I can channel all the energy they put into humping into fighting, no one in this apartment building will be safe....maybe the whole town would go up in terrorist hamster flames? I hope I can control them, for all of your sake...

Time to go back down and change the posters in the storage bin. I put up cute hamster pictures that I find on the net, and shots of people being blown up with bombs and shooting guns and using all sorts of kill kill weapons (including a light saber, which will help them later on, when I start the religious lectures that will change them from an unruly fighting force of crazy but dedicated individuals who would by god die for their right to party, into a bunch of drones who follow my every command, even unto... death; I am using The Force from star wars as their primary god, because it'll be funny, but also, of course, so that everyone else will know it is a joke religion, and thus I won't have to worry about starting another damn religion... I hate when that happens).

I plan on hiring someone to start doing genetic experiments on these hamsters, as soon as I figure out how to save money and smoke weed. . . We will of courses put together a super hamster, that will be effective against maybe even smaller cats? That could take months, I suppose. In a year, I think, we can get one that is half as big as a human, with claws bigger than our heads. I'll of course have to do a search on this genetic engineering stuff at least once before declaring myself an authority... just fucking kidding. .. I ain't doing no geek searches.

General Sniggly Poo the Ninth is now in charge of the army. Like the others, I imagine he will eventually want his name changed to something that strikes fear in the hearts of all mammals (with the exception of certain breeds dogs, for some reason). I am thinking General Bloody Eviscerator Sniggly Poo, but the decision is of course his... They are just so cute when they are tiny that I can't help giving them these baby names. Damn my feminine side!!!

Well, I imagine you are pretty scared right now, huh? I am sorry to have once again made you readers piss yourself in terror. I am done, so go clean up, for dog's sake you stink!!!










THOU SHALT NOT STEAL THE WRITINGS OF JOHN SCOTT RIDGWAY... YOU CAN EASILY GET PERMISSION FOR A NON COMMERCIAL REPRINT BY CONTACTING MY EMAIL.

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.

+NEXT MONTH will be the time to start getting the new show together.

The Elves Attic Live, the series of literary readings that I was hosting at the Big Star Cafe, are sorely missed. I liked the people who showed up a lot, and the rush of being on stage getting laughs is pretty kicking. THe motivation to write comedy every week was good to experience, gave me a lot of laughs and forced me to expand my literary horizons a bit more.

Now, it is time to start again. Well, it will be as soon as we have finished this move, or at least have the work entailed done. I need to find a place first. You would think this would be harder than it is until you get into the game. Anyplace that does not have a show, wouldn't mind having one on their slow nights. They get free customers and a show. We don't ever want to charge for these shows. Period. I am not doing them for money.

I have a much better stable of writers and listeners at my behest than before this last reading, obvously. They will come if I ask, some to them all. And since the venue and a lot of people will be new, I can take out all the material I wrote last year, and organize it and read it again. I keep meaning to put together all the hamster jokes, essays, poems, etc... into a blog that can be more easily perused than this one. I need a website, but that involves more techie knowledge than I have at the moment... I will keep learning in this regard until the day I die, though, so...

Tonight we are going to another play, this one basically set around singing french songs from the twenties. As always, we were promised 'comp' tickets, and then for some reason ended up paying anyways. This happens all the time to me. I feel like we are being taken, even if we do get some kind of discount. And of course they are never plays that are at the top of my see list, merely the productions of people I vaguely know. Any play is worth seeing to me, in a way... I mean, this is why I live in a city... for the culture.

blogger kidnaps, rapes and kills....

and no, it wasn't me... believe me, if I did a crime you would not hear about it on this blog, but I am no criminal. I simply feel what other people are feeling way too much to want them to feel horror or pain or anything bad if possible.

This is the difference between me and killers, of course. They lack the ability to relate to the pain they are causing in a normal manner. Instead, the pain of others registers in their mind as sexual stimulation.

I was watching the latest news last night of a psycho killer, with my usual interest... which is the interest of someone who really wants to know the enemies face. This beahvioral template is available to all humans, depending on the usual suspects -- environmental hells and chemical/physical anomalies; so there is going to always be these fucking freaks who should have been killed the first time they proved that they don't give a shit what other people are feeling... And so the monsters will go on being created; at least without total genetic engineering, which will start the day enough people can afford the procedure and thus make it profitable to capatilists, you can fucking bet.....

The idea of living without emotions sounds like a good way to be, in ways... to be unaffected by the horror, the horror... at times, during war and crime, people have to rise above.... the problem is one of lifes zillion fucking dark ironies, you cannot selectively cut off your emoitional life; it is all or nothing, and even then hardly complete. Anger and frustration simply refuse to leave, but happiness, love and other feelings that warm the heart disappear... cold hearted bastards need to be shot before they do another crime; prisoners do not deserve to be housed with killer rapists like this.

If they have proven, as they seemingly have, that pedophiles can be identified young and still fail to be rehabilitated, then why not shoot them? Anyone who has no compunction about rape and death is a dangerous defect (and no, I do not consider any other way of being born a human a defect, more an obstacle, and even the worst of them are not serious enough for this). In a prison population, an individual who causes great risks to others is marked for death. Same with China, and other countries where the government is run first and foremost for the masses, rather than a few business concerns and a lawyer class.

This freakiller I am writing about, very rambly on this buzzy saturday afternoon as I drink coffee, smoke peach flavored tobacco and green stickies, is too gross to be mentioned, let alone his website. I watched a news program on this bastard, and the quotes from his blog I read were enough to give me a heart ach. He as much as says he is a criminal, and a pedophile at that... and no one turned him in. He could have been stopped before he killed two adults and three children and kept a young girl as his sex slave. He was another one of those guys who the system has known well since he was sixteen and bound and raped a 14 year old boy.

I wonder if anyone read his blog? One would think a few people would have stumbled in, but who knows??? I register my blogs all over so people can find them. Maybe he didn't? Anyways, if I had come across his blog talking about pedophilia and getting away with crimes, I would have done all that is possible to protect the innocent from violence and rape. Like any adult would. Yet seemingly no one reported this sicko. I SURE AS HELL HOPE THEY DO NEXT TIME...

THAT IS UP TO YOU!!!!!!