Mostly I am on my other blog lately, http://theelvesattic.blogspot.com and my site where I am pounding out my late3st book, http://wakingupjesus.blogspot.com
Spike the caustic, half-drunk, sixty some year old retired cab driver -- who is now fat, bald, and my pot dealer, told me today, "All of your stories have boogers in them. You know what I mean ( there was no question mark in his sentence)."
I always think that I am done being irritated by Spike's cantankerousness, and then he comes out with something like this.
"Uh, Spike, I most certainly have no idea where the boogers are in my work."
"It's like, I'm reading along and the words are okay, or whatever... and then suddenly I'm staring down some Wombat's ass, or someone's being killed all bloody and ugly. Why you gotta do that?"
I will add more to this later... but it is true, there are boogers in my stories, when you put it like this...
Spike told me this after I told him that a couple people walked out on my show looking all offended by Celebrity Animals That Slept Their Way To The Top... in fact, his first response to this tale was, "Yea, sure, of course people walked out. I would of walked out. If I didn't know you. I just don't like boogers, and all of your stories have boogers in them. You know what I mean."
I am such a loser.... according to old Spike, who also said my writing was filled with 'farts,' and then went on to make extensive fart noises and such.. though, like I say in the comments section, there are no farts in my work, hardly.... I thought there were none, then I remembered the thing about Spike being my 'fart buddy.' He brought that 'fart business' up though, when he was trying to tell me that he knew me well enough to fart in front of me -- to which I responded that I do not know anyone well enough to be their 'fart buddy,' and hope that I never know anyone well enough to be a so-called 'fart buddy's.'
That old bastard!!! Criticising me for farts on my site, when he let the only farts in here... he is just he kid of guy to throw some boogers into the stew, then complain about the little chewy chunks!!!
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Friday, August 11, 2006
gagngsta
the kindred of the lost
you discuss yourselves
slowly into madness
out goes all the reasoned notions
in come
the drinks
and potions
predators creep about in the bushes
outside the school yard
why are you surprised to find yourself in the line up?
watch you from far on the other side of sanity
see the storms
that blew apart your dark life
shredded you down
stripped your humanity
to the bare animal core
left a cruel smile on your face
an ugliness nothing can hide
a settled look of disgust
becomes the mask of your last decades
your insides dry and brittle
emptied somewhere
accidently
along the way
pissed into a stained toilet
in a stream of cheap wine
coughed out in bloody plegm
and spit on the sidewalk
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
you discuss yourselves
slowly into madness
out goes all the reasoned notions
in come
the drinks
and potions
predators creep about in the bushes
outside the school yard
why are you surprised to find yourself in the line up?
watch you from far on the other side of sanity
see the storms
that blew apart your dark life
shredded you down
stripped your humanity
to the bare animal core
left a cruel smile on your face
an ugliness nothing can hide
a settled look of disgust
becomes the mask of your last decades
your insides dry and brittle
emptied somewhere
accidently
along the way
pissed into a stained toilet
in a stream of cheap wine
coughed out in bloody plegm
and spit on the sidewalk
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
This entry is an excerpt from what just may well be the longest literary effort of my life: STUPID SHIT I DID, Volume 234, Sect. 2964, line 89
Long ago, when I was a kid going to school and all full of myself, I told Spike that I liked criticism.
He had never heard of anyone who liked criticism.
This was before I knew much about Spike, back when we were both driving cab, me going to school and him just trying to get up enough money to get his wife to quit bitching so he could go home and drink (not that he didn't drink on the job -- he just kept his head about him as best he could and got lucky).
I was talking about writing to a few cab drivers gathered around a barrel fire and mentioned that I liked being criticised.
Spike hadn't spoke to me too much at that point. We were sitting outside a ratty old, abondened concrete gas station that our boss, Mike Paite, an ex-carny, was using to run his six almost undrivable cabs.
He looked up at me and kind of scrutinized me a bit."You got any beers in your cab?"
"No," I told him, kind of shocked... "Do you?"
"Not at the moment. You like criticism, huh? What are you one of those AA guys?"
Spike asked this, I later deciphered, because during his various court ordered stints in AA over the years, the only part of the program that he had anything to do with was criticizing other people -- confronting them, he called it, claiming he was breaking down their denail. Of course, Spike took it too far... as his wife tells it, one night Spike started criticising a still shaky new guy about how he was dressed. Being Spike, he of course did this in the crudest manner possible, "You dress like a fag. You a fag? Huh, like getting the old brown eye popped?"
When I responded to Spike's question about my liking criticism, I took it as an interest in my writing, which back then was my favorite topic of conversation, and I am sure that I was puffing up my proverbial chest, as I used to do way back when I was going to school and dreaming Hemingway dreams; all impressed with myself I was, after scoring with my english professor, who knew that if she stroked my ego, I would stroke hers, and stroke we did... puffing me up like a balloon that was sure to burst.
"Yes, Spike, as a writer, I have to be able to take criticism. Not to mention, I am sleeping with my editor, so I damn well better take her every word seriously. And I've found that applies in life, too -- getting the opinion of people with more experience, you know, helps me not to go down blind paths."
I had no idea at the time, of course, that I had just declared open season on myself.
Spike had been missing criticizing people in AA, his wife later told me.
Now, all these years later, he still brings up that day, . .
Then he goes on to tell me things like he did today, "Your hair looks like the mother of this kid I went to school with. You have woman hair."
The worst part is, he is the most honest man I know and usually is right, though of course he is often gloriously wrong... like in his assesment of me as a bum and that M. will sooner or later wise up and throw me and the cat's ass out. . .
Another thing he said today, kind of out the blue, after I was talking and he wasn't really even pretending to be interested, "That M. is still putting up with the stink coming off your ass is a fucking miracle."
Whenever I ask him what he means by this, he tells me, "Oh, you know what I am talking about."
"NO, I don't."
"Oh, this art scam of yours."
"Art scam?"
"Who makes the most money?"
"M."
"Sooner or later, she finds a guy with a job, and she is going to throw your ass out. You know this... if you don't, your head is further up your ass than I thought."
"Not everyone is as shallow as you, Spike. Plus, I do make some money, and I write all the time, paint... something might happen."
"Ever try to pay the cable bill with a fucking pipe dream?"
Spike has only a few concepts that he lives by, and they are subject to change, like when he became addicted to Dr. Phil, (until he was tricked into going on the show to be confronted about his drunken gambling and slapped Dr. Phil so hard that he bawled like a hungry bull calf calling for teat). Lately, he has been saying everyone is filled with pipe dreams. He got this after he read a fucking blurb on an advertisement for Eugene O' Neil's play, The Ice Man Cometh, that talked about the men having pipe dreams. The ad was sitting there on his desk as he said this....
"Every one of you fucking pot heads are full of pipe dreams. And bong dreams. Fucking bong dreams."
I am pretty sure that when Spike said 'everyone,' he means me. I am the only person he knows who is not ensconced in a crippled little lower middle class life shakily propped up by myths and drink and long, soothing lies propelled by prayer.
The only artist. The only one who is not afraid to stand alone, in a way.
He always asks me that hated question whenever I tell him that i am involvd in my blog..."Do you make any money?"
Then he proceeds to add, whenever I mention my blog to someone, "He works on that damn thing all the time, but he can't make a fucking dime on it. That sure as hell ain't working."
Certainly being an atheist makes me stand alone. Spike hates this, too; gives me that stupid arguement that if there is a god, then you will be happy you were religous, and if not you have wasted nothing...
Usually I try to just stay out of the arguements, but he is pretty damn good at baiting me. I responded to his gambler's odds view of god by telling him, "Oh, yea, you lose nothing except your freedom of thought . . . a clear view of the truths of the world
. . . the real tools that manipulate the world, rather than the mystic lies our monkey brain wants so so hard to believe. Who needs that shit, huh?"
"Yea, you'll be talking about fucking monkey lies on judgement day... to fucking Satan."
"Spike, you've done a lot of shit in your day. Buying stolen goods, for one.. lying all the time, drinking, beating up a cop, about ten customers... why would a god want you?"
"Oh, I prayed on all that and I'm forgiven. Did worst shit, too... that slate's all clean now, buddy. Unlike yours."
"I don't do anything immoral."
"Yeah, fucking, right. Say that with an illegal bag of weed in your fucking hand."
"This isn't immoral, though. I have a moral obligation to fight laws that I disagree with. As long as they are victimless crimes. Like pot would be if it were legalized and grown above ground."
"I started watching Dr. Phil again. He has a scar above his eye from where I hit him. I get the biggest kick out of that... You know, it's like I'm on tv. Unlike you, who has this pipe dream about doing tv again. What's it been, twenty years?"
"Spike, let's not argue... I'm not tryig to get into tv, either. I just send stuff off to a couple shows, kind of like playing the fucking lottery."
I really, really should know better than to ever enter an arguement with this man, because no matter what I say, he just looks at me for a few seconds, maybe grimaces, then goes on with his arguement entirely unaffected by what I have said... I hate that. Listening skills are totally under rated. Seriously. Start making a show of listening more than you talk, and really, really listen, and you will learn wondrous things all the fucking time... well, at least once in awhile, okay?
Not at Spike's of course. Or in crack houses, or whatever... listening skills have little good effect in such damaged places. One is better off being deaf. Is all of this ass achingly obvious. . If so, I am sorry.
Anyways, the most important thing about our visit went just fine...
I GOT WEED!!!!!!
&
THE RED BONG
IS HAPPILY
BUBBLING
LIKE A SMOKY LITTLE BROOK
WISH YOU WAS HERE
LOOKING ALL SQUINTY EYED
AND SLAP HAPPY
WE'D SHARE A FEW LAUGHS
BETWEEN BONGS
REMEBER HOW FINE IT IS TO BE ALIVE
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
Long ago, when I was a kid going to school and all full of myself, I told Spike that I liked criticism.
He had never heard of anyone who liked criticism.
This was before I knew much about Spike, back when we were both driving cab, me going to school and him just trying to get up enough money to get his wife to quit bitching so he could go home and drink (not that he didn't drink on the job -- he just kept his head about him as best he could and got lucky).
I was talking about writing to a few cab drivers gathered around a barrel fire and mentioned that I liked being criticised.
Spike hadn't spoke to me too much at that point. We were sitting outside a ratty old, abondened concrete gas station that our boss, Mike Paite, an ex-carny, was using to run his six almost undrivable cabs.
He looked up at me and kind of scrutinized me a bit."You got any beers in your cab?"
"No," I told him, kind of shocked... "Do you?"
"Not at the moment. You like criticism, huh? What are you one of those AA guys?"
Spike asked this, I later deciphered, because during his various court ordered stints in AA over the years, the only part of the program that he had anything to do with was criticizing other people -- confronting them, he called it, claiming he was breaking down their denail. Of course, Spike took it too far... as his wife tells it, one night Spike started criticising a still shaky new guy about how he was dressed. Being Spike, he of course did this in the crudest manner possible, "You dress like a fag. You a fag? Huh, like getting the old brown eye popped?"
When I responded to Spike's question about my liking criticism, I took it as an interest in my writing, which back then was my favorite topic of conversation, and I am sure that I was puffing up my proverbial chest, as I used to do way back when I was going to school and dreaming Hemingway dreams; all impressed with myself I was, after scoring with my english professor, who knew that if she stroked my ego, I would stroke hers, and stroke we did... puffing me up like a balloon that was sure to burst.
"Yes, Spike, as a writer, I have to be able to take criticism. Not to mention, I am sleeping with my editor, so I damn well better take her every word seriously. And I've found that applies in life, too -- getting the opinion of people with more experience, you know, helps me not to go down blind paths."
I had no idea at the time, of course, that I had just declared open season on myself.
Spike had been missing criticizing people in AA, his wife later told me.
Now, all these years later, he still brings up that day, . .
Then he goes on to tell me things like he did today, "Your hair looks like the mother of this kid I went to school with. You have woman hair."
The worst part is, he is the most honest man I know and usually is right, though of course he is often gloriously wrong... like in his assesment of me as a bum and that M. will sooner or later wise up and throw me and the cat's ass out. . .
Another thing he said today, kind of out the blue, after I was talking and he wasn't really even pretending to be interested, "That M. is still putting up with the stink coming off your ass is a fucking miracle."
Whenever I ask him what he means by this, he tells me, "Oh, you know what I am talking about."
"NO, I don't."
"Oh, this art scam of yours."
"Art scam?"
"Who makes the most money?"
"M."
"Sooner or later, she finds a guy with a job, and she is going to throw your ass out. You know this... if you don't, your head is further up your ass than I thought."
"Not everyone is as shallow as you, Spike. Plus, I do make some money, and I write all the time, paint... something might happen."
"Ever try to pay the cable bill with a fucking pipe dream?"
Spike has only a few concepts that he lives by, and they are subject to change, like when he became addicted to Dr. Phil, (until he was tricked into going on the show to be confronted about his drunken gambling and slapped Dr. Phil so hard that he bawled like a hungry bull calf calling for teat). Lately, he has been saying everyone is filled with pipe dreams. He got this after he read a fucking blurb on an advertisement for Eugene O' Neil's play, The Ice Man Cometh, that talked about the men having pipe dreams. The ad was sitting there on his desk as he said this....
"Every one of you fucking pot heads are full of pipe dreams. And bong dreams. Fucking bong dreams."
I am pretty sure that when Spike said 'everyone,' he means me. I am the only person he knows who is not ensconced in a crippled little lower middle class life shakily propped up by myths and drink and long, soothing lies propelled by prayer.
The only artist. The only one who is not afraid to stand alone, in a way.
He always asks me that hated question whenever I tell him that i am involvd in my blog..."Do you make any money?"
Then he proceeds to add, whenever I mention my blog to someone, "He works on that damn thing all the time, but he can't make a fucking dime on it. That sure as hell ain't working."
Certainly being an atheist makes me stand alone. Spike hates this, too; gives me that stupid arguement that if there is a god, then you will be happy you were religous, and if not you have wasted nothing...
Usually I try to just stay out of the arguements, but he is pretty damn good at baiting me. I responded to his gambler's odds view of god by telling him, "Oh, yea, you lose nothing except your freedom of thought . . . a clear view of the truths of the world
. . . the real tools that manipulate the world, rather than the mystic lies our monkey brain wants so so hard to believe. Who needs that shit, huh?"
"Yea, you'll be talking about fucking monkey lies on judgement day... to fucking Satan."
"Spike, you've done a lot of shit in your day. Buying stolen goods, for one.. lying all the time, drinking, beating up a cop, about ten customers... why would a god want you?"
"Oh, I prayed on all that and I'm forgiven. Did worst shit, too... that slate's all clean now, buddy. Unlike yours."
"I don't do anything immoral."
"Yeah, fucking, right. Say that with an illegal bag of weed in your fucking hand."
"This isn't immoral, though. I have a moral obligation to fight laws that I disagree with. As long as they are victimless crimes. Like pot would be if it were legalized and grown above ground."
"I started watching Dr. Phil again. He has a scar above his eye from where I hit him. I get the biggest kick out of that... You know, it's like I'm on tv. Unlike you, who has this pipe dream about doing tv again. What's it been, twenty years?"
"Spike, let's not argue... I'm not tryig to get into tv, either. I just send stuff off to a couple shows, kind of like playing the fucking lottery."
I really, really should know better than to ever enter an arguement with this man, because no matter what I say, he just looks at me for a few seconds, maybe grimaces, then goes on with his arguement entirely unaffected by what I have said... I hate that. Listening skills are totally under rated. Seriously. Start making a show of listening more than you talk, and really, really listen, and you will learn wondrous things all the fucking time... well, at least once in awhile, okay?
Not at Spike's of course. Or in crack houses, or whatever... listening skills have little good effect in such damaged places. One is better off being deaf. Is all of this ass achingly obvious. . If so, I am sorry.
Anyways, the most important thing about our visit went just fine...
I GOT WEED!!!!!!
&
THE RED BONG
IS HAPPILY
BUBBLING
LIKE A SMOKY LITTLE BROOK
WISH YOU WAS HERE
LOOKING ALL SQUINTY EYED
AND SLAP HAPPY
WE'D SHARE A FEW LAUGHS
BETWEEN BONGS
REMEBER HOW FINE IT IS TO BE ALIVE
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
NAZI'S AND CRAZIES ON THE RED LINE
Coming back from Spike's, all smoked loose and limber, I sit back in my hard,plastic seat on the el train, look down to make sure that I am not putting my feet into anything sticky or gross, pull out the notebook with the writing I am working on, and prepare for a trip up north to the morse stop. A chinese woman sits down beside me, in a red dress with huge yellow flowers, rather barrel shaped, fifty some. We ride quietly for a few minutes, then a commotion in my periphery vision makes me look up from my notes and I see the woman jump up all excited and scared and run to the other end of the train.
A huge black guy had decided to sit down in the middle of the aisle, right beside her -- even though there were plenty of empty seats all around.
I kind of keep my eye on him, but I ain't moving just because some nut is sitting in the aisle. I once walked by four people fighting with knives to get through an el station -- just said 'excuse me' a lot and the combantants parted. Others who were waiting to get into the train station slowly followed down a path that the fighters made through their little battle. I was just that blaise when I drove cab... immortal.
The crazy acting guy gets up at the next stop and lumbers off.
Sitting in front of me is a very white woman in a blue dress with blue eyes and blonde hair and a slim, gym--tortured body, she turns to me and says all quiet and conspiratorially, "This is why I always take the metra."
I am sure that she looked around to make sure there were no minorities in ear shot -- and of course when I checked, there were none.
The guy behind me speaks up, "Yea, I won't take this thing at night. You run into them like that."
I interrupt and tell them, "When I used to drive cab, I fearlessly took the train at all hours of day and night, and I saw a lot of shit, but I never once had a problem."
They are silent a second, then the woman speaks to the guy behind me with the short hair and white white manner, "Yea, well, you won't see me on the train again."
Me the long haired guy with the scraggly beard scribbling notes who has called himself 'fearless,' is then ignored as they chat on throughout the rest of the train ride. I pretend that my notes have taken all of my attention, but inside I am kind of seething over their stupid ass rascist attitudes... If they would just read a fucking little bit, they would discover there is almost no crime on the train anymore -- it is safer than hell, but no, they live on little myths -- black guys are dangerous is one of them, and this one masks the truth that the trains are safe.... As I listened to them infer how much better they were for not taking a train, with their light talk of how they never would be there if their cars hadn't broke down... my rising blood pressure began to make my head pound with their every word. All the while I am thinking... I WISH I WAS BLACK SO I COULD KICK THESE HONKEY'S ASSES!!!
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
A huge black guy had decided to sit down in the middle of the aisle, right beside her -- even though there were plenty of empty seats all around.
I kind of keep my eye on him, but I ain't moving just because some nut is sitting in the aisle. I once walked by four people fighting with knives to get through an el station -- just said 'excuse me' a lot and the combantants parted. Others who were waiting to get into the train station slowly followed down a path that the fighters made through their little battle. I was just that blaise when I drove cab... immortal.
The crazy acting guy gets up at the next stop and lumbers off.
Sitting in front of me is a very white woman in a blue dress with blue eyes and blonde hair and a slim, gym--tortured body, she turns to me and says all quiet and conspiratorially, "This is why I always take the metra."
I am sure that she looked around to make sure there were no minorities in ear shot -- and of course when I checked, there were none.
The guy behind me speaks up, "Yea, I won't take this thing at night. You run into them like that."
I interrupt and tell them, "When I used to drive cab, I fearlessly took the train at all hours of day and night, and I saw a lot of shit, but I never once had a problem."
They are silent a second, then the woman speaks to the guy behind me with the short hair and white white manner, "Yea, well, you won't see me on the train again."
Me the long haired guy with the scraggly beard scribbling notes who has called himself 'fearless,' is then ignored as they chat on throughout the rest of the train ride. I pretend that my notes have taken all of my attention, but inside I am kind of seething over their stupid ass rascist attitudes... If they would just read a fucking little bit, they would discover there is almost no crime on the train anymore -- it is safer than hell, but no, they live on little myths -- black guys are dangerous is one of them, and this one masks the truth that the trains are safe.... As I listened to them infer how much better they were for not taking a train, with their light talk of how they never would be there if their cars hadn't broke down... my rising blood pressure began to make my head pound with their every word. All the while I am thinking... I WISH I WAS BLACK SO I COULD KICK THESE HONKEY'S ASSES!!!
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
COWS ARE NOT INTRINSICALLY EVIL???
All my life, I have believed that cows were intrinsically evil. I figured, why else would humans treat them so horribly? I picked this up most likely from my pops, who, quite frankly, talked down to beef related food products . . . Well, actually he taunted them. We'd be at McDonalds and pops would be screaming at his
big mac, "Die you hooved beast!! Die now on the shanks of my teeth!"
He went to the hospital more than once for getting drunk and attacking canned meat products -- who he held some sort of grave grudge against dating back to his days in the army (another spam related tragedy will hardly come as a surprise to the most astute among you, I dare say).
What was I to think, growing up with Dad constantly taking frozen pounds of hamburger out back for 'interrogation sesssions?' Why do you think he offered his services throughout the greater Fort Wayne, Indiana, area as an amatuer meat tenderizer? It was not, as he claimed on his business cards, 'for the children,' that he was willing to drive all over the county pounding meat all day (he would often call in sick from work to do this... on slow days, he would hang out across the street from the butcher, watching through his binoculars for women who bought cheap cuts of beef that he could then talk into some 'tenderizing'). No one ever invited him back, of course, and sooner or later everyone heard about how he would be hollaring and carrying on as he pounded the meat and his business just kind of dried up. He thought the hamburger meat in the freezer was behind the lack of business, which is what led to the interrogations I mentioned a few minutes ago.
And yet... he couldn't get enough pork, and was known to just hold large racks of raw pig ribs on his lap and pet them lovingly for days.
The cows, though... I don't like this at all... I am just confused, you know? I mean, I was raised to serial kill, like so many of my readers, and the rules are pretty hard and fast on who dies. You do not kill an entire tribe -- hell, in this case a species -- just because they feed us the milk from their tits. I mean, do we kill our mothers? Okay, I did... maybe, you know, depending on the evidence and what plea makes the most sense -- which in turn is dependent on how far the jail-house jesus thing is going to take me with the parole board (not to mention that I occasionally accidently become converted, like all those years I was in a cult worshiping a particularly intelligent white rat over in cellblock D ... we were trying to earn our way into this heaven where we were going to be given 72 experienced and eager divorcee's in their 40's. We tried to take the virgins, but the Muslim's started killing us for copying them. I liked this arrangement better, too... though like everything that had to do with that cult, it all really just came down toa bunch of talk surrounding a scam to get cigarettes for the leaders. Those bastards took a pure and innocent rat worshiping cult and turned it just republican, man... fucking republican...).
Call me a lot of things, but never say that I killed out of apathy, okay? When I find injustice, I kill. Why? They would do the same to me. I beat them to the draw. How hard is it to follow such logic? I mean, it is one thing to mow down a bunch of christians protesting outside an abortion clinic, but a bunch of cows?
This was easy when I believed they were evil, of course. Dad used to say that the republicans would be getting nowhere without help from the cows (he said the same thing about lamps, and I am just praying to dog he wasn't lying about that too). And when I believed him, I was fine with eating beef and supporting the whole institutionalised species murder thing, but now???
No...
I am going down to a meat packaging plant this afternoon, where I be will chopping up all of the employees, neatly packaging them, in weighed and priced containers of cellophane and plastic, and then donating their chunky red remains to a local soup kitchen. . . these bums will then carry my handiwork all throughout the city; sewers then will carry the bums handiwork to the oceans... where they will be swept up into the clouds and then, in the final phase of my elaboratly planned vengence, rained down on the backs of over-heated cows.
* while this little snippet of absurdity comes out on the side of vegetarinism, I suck too much to actually be a vegetarian, or even to be sure I can spell the damn word, to be honest. I do however hope future generations come to their senses before the cows finally learn to arm themselves.
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
big mac, "Die you hooved beast!! Die now on the shanks of my teeth!"
He went to the hospital more than once for getting drunk and attacking canned meat products -- who he held some sort of grave grudge against dating back to his days in the army (another spam related tragedy will hardly come as a surprise to the most astute among you, I dare say).
What was I to think, growing up with Dad constantly taking frozen pounds of hamburger out back for 'interrogation sesssions?' Why do you think he offered his services throughout the greater Fort Wayne, Indiana, area as an amatuer meat tenderizer? It was not, as he claimed on his business cards, 'for the children,' that he was willing to drive all over the county pounding meat all day (he would often call in sick from work to do this... on slow days, he would hang out across the street from the butcher, watching through his binoculars for women who bought cheap cuts of beef that he could then talk into some 'tenderizing'). No one ever invited him back, of course, and sooner or later everyone heard about how he would be hollaring and carrying on as he pounded the meat and his business just kind of dried up. He thought the hamburger meat in the freezer was behind the lack of business, which is what led to the interrogations I mentioned a few minutes ago.
And yet... he couldn't get enough pork, and was known to just hold large racks of raw pig ribs on his lap and pet them lovingly for days.
The cows, though... I don't like this at all... I am just confused, you know? I mean, I was raised to serial kill, like so many of my readers, and the rules are pretty hard and fast on who dies. You do not kill an entire tribe -- hell, in this case a species -- just because they feed us the milk from their tits. I mean, do we kill our mothers? Okay, I did... maybe, you know, depending on the evidence and what plea makes the most sense -- which in turn is dependent on how far the jail-house jesus thing is going to take me with the parole board (not to mention that I occasionally accidently become converted, like all those years I was in a cult worshiping a particularly intelligent white rat over in cellblock D ... we were trying to earn our way into this heaven where we were going to be given 72 experienced and eager divorcee's in their 40's. We tried to take the virgins, but the Muslim's started killing us for copying them. I liked this arrangement better, too... though like everything that had to do with that cult, it all really just came down toa bunch of talk surrounding a scam to get cigarettes for the leaders. Those bastards took a pure and innocent rat worshiping cult and turned it just republican, man... fucking republican...).
Call me a lot of things, but never say that I killed out of apathy, okay? When I find injustice, I kill. Why? They would do the same to me. I beat them to the draw. How hard is it to follow such logic? I mean, it is one thing to mow down a bunch of christians protesting outside an abortion clinic, but a bunch of cows?
This was easy when I believed they were evil, of course. Dad used to say that the republicans would be getting nowhere without help from the cows (he said the same thing about lamps, and I am just praying to dog he wasn't lying about that too). And when I believed him, I was fine with eating beef and supporting the whole institutionalised species murder thing, but now???
No...
I am going down to a meat packaging plant this afternoon, where I be will chopping up all of the employees, neatly packaging them, in weighed and priced containers of cellophane and plastic, and then donating their chunky red remains to a local soup kitchen. . . these bums will then carry my handiwork all throughout the city; sewers then will carry the bums handiwork to the oceans... where they will be swept up into the clouds and then, in the final phase of my elaboratly planned vengence, rained down on the backs of over-heated cows.
* while this little snippet of absurdity comes out on the side of vegetarinism, I suck too much to actually be a vegetarian, or even to be sure I can spell the damn word, to be honest. I do however hope future generations come to their senses before the cows finally learn to arm themselves.
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
POETRY FROM THE FUTURE
Arctic melted
New York went Atlantis
six headed fish rule
where once the three peice suited man
walked proud and confident
Polar Bears and penguins
huskies and innuit indians
iceland, norway, and on and on
all gone, baby, gone
in our sleep
without noticing
we nailed the animals to crosses
and burned them on our lawns
we flew like poisen spewing hawks
killing across the earth
spreading silent death with our vacations
our need to explore the wildnerness killing it
we laughed bitter over the cruel fucking ironies
the cults take us over in the end
hypno-words of an apocolypse
with the forgiveness of a god
brings us to ecstasy
we drink the laced kool aide
pull plastic bags over our heads
go out on dreams of a glorious mind
with a golden plan
too immense to fit
into our flesh
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
New York went Atlantis
six headed fish rule
where once the three peice suited man
walked proud and confident
Polar Bears and penguins
huskies and innuit indians
iceland, norway, and on and on
all gone, baby, gone
in our sleep
without noticing
we nailed the animals to crosses
and burned them on our lawns
we flew like poisen spewing hawks
killing across the earth
spreading silent death with our vacations
our need to explore the wildnerness killing it
we laughed bitter over the cruel fucking ironies
the cults take us over in the end
hypno-words of an apocolypse
with the forgiveness of a god
brings us to ecstasy
we drink the laced kool aide
pull plastic bags over our heads
go out on dreams of a glorious mind
with a golden plan
too immense to fit
into our flesh
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
SLOUCHING HEROS
you can spend a life shabbily bulding
a tower of mock ivory
let the most important issues of your time
become too cliched
for the literati crowd in your mind
the fuzz in my navel
needs no more new names
youngsters have too many
co-dependent porno shots
getting muddled in their minds with
for real for real girlies
the video games say more about violence
than a few words ever will
maybe I want to pretend
the bigger issues
within my words
make the words
themselves
somehow bigger
like a goddamned rock star
periennally proving all the puff and bluster
in the world
can't produce a hit song
do I take a cause
to show my moral side
keep the focus away
from my hunchback
on my truths
rather than my lies
words words words
flying crazy through the winds of context
controlled by the comings and goings
of the emotional storms
and what matter the gun that starts the race?
maybe some saints get there
making up for sins
go from gangsters
to quiet men in the prison library
talking about how crazy far down
those kid hormones
can take ya
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
a tower of mock ivory
let the most important issues of your time
become too cliched
for the literati crowd in your mind
the fuzz in my navel
needs no more new names
youngsters have too many
co-dependent porno shots
getting muddled in their minds with
for real for real girlies
the video games say more about violence
than a few words ever will
maybe I want to pretend
the bigger issues
within my words
make the words
themselves
somehow bigger
like a goddamned rock star
periennally proving all the puff and bluster
in the world
can't produce a hit song
do I take a cause
to show my moral side
keep the focus away
from my hunchback
on my truths
rather than my lies
words words words
flying crazy through the winds of context
controlled by the comings and goings
of the emotional storms
and what matter the gun that starts the race?
maybe some saints get there
making up for sins
go from gangsters
to quiet men in the prison library
talking about how crazy far down
those kid hormones
can take ya
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
MAD MAXY SAYS: QUIT CRUCIFYING ME YOU JEWS!!!
When folks are drunk and being arrested and are very, very desperate to get out of the consequences their actions are about to bring down, they can be mean to cops.... this is a manifestation of his alcholism. I for one hope this day goes from tragedy to something he celebrates as the end of his bottled madness.
I grew up on Mad Max Beyond The Thunderdome... always got a kick of Mel Gibson. Then came the whole Passion of Christ Thing, and reading about how his dad was a nazi. This isn't enough to condemn someone over, but my weirdo-thinking alarm definantly goes off when someone who's parent was a fanatic about a cause, becomes a fanatic about a cause. Unfortunatly, since my way of thinking is in the minority, my weirdo-thinking alarm is always going off.
ANYTIME A HUMAN decides there is a universal truth, their thinking becomes eskew. My weirdo-thinking alarm is then set off -- whether I am readinng their words, watching their play, whatever... I become suspect of the person's ability to think and learn.
However....
My dad was a fairly intelligent, balanced thinking person. He was certainly not a fanatic about anything, unless you can count his stubborn refusal to be depressed all the time regardless of the Bukowskian nightmares he conjoured. How would I have fared if he were a Nazi?
This is a post modern time, when our parent's beliefs do not necessarily end up being our own. . . right? I like to think so, but then again -- there were no jew-nigger-spic-fag-hating people in my family. They existed in my town, in my neighborhood, in conversations and the jokes I read in National Lampoon, but in my family that was just not the way we were. Now my freinds are people who don't use these words. Our brains are effected by such things
Literally, how we think is based on a couple things. One of them is how well we can make a dialectic in our mind.
How well we can think of an apple, then an orange, then a combination of the two fruits.
This dialectic helps me to look at things grey. My brain does not stop with the initial evidence and make a decision. No. Tell me that god is the creator of a seven day wonder, and this other thought slams into that one saying there is no proof of a god and the concept is being abused and used and whored out all around me... this A + B equals my present mindset, which is that god is relevant as a manifestation of a cloaking mechanism that people use to hide the real world from their eyes.
This equation of course then happens over and over all day in your brain, once it is activated... dialectics rise, merge, then have dialectics with other dialectics. You get the picture... this is how your personal cosmology comes into being. Takes place mostly beyond you, in grunted conversations between cave men dwelling deep in the dark tunnels of your psych...
On the other hand, if the easy answers were good enough for my parents, if they had decided to give into chimp-lies like nationalism, extreme religiousity, nazism, etc... would I have ever even developed the ability to create a dialectic? College should do this, but I have seen stubborn people push their way through an education without learning anything important, so it happens.
I don't know if Mel Gibson went to college or not, or much about him at all, to be honest.... I do know he has lived a worldy life, too worldy to not have had any initial prejudicial infection from his parents challanged again and again by dialectics that pretty much say jews are just people who follow a few religious rituals sometimes, like most the rest of us. . . (though not me, because I am thinking on a plane altogether superior to the god-weasled, of course).
Mel would have said anything to hurt this person. That he fell back on the stupid lies of his nazi father is almost to be expected.
I am more impressed that he is taking full blame for his actions. I mean, what the hell? Drinking too much is a fucked up, diseased way to live. If this gets him to stop, he'll be damn happy this shit happened.... if not, he'll just add it to his pile of regrets.
So, since I am still spending all of my time thinking about this new book instead of writing, here I am jumping on the bloggers opinion of the day!!!!
Man, I'm really blogging now!!!
QUIT CRUCIFYING ME, YOU JEWS!!! The handsome australian rougue told the earnest young officer.
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
I grew up on Mad Max Beyond The Thunderdome... always got a kick of Mel Gibson. Then came the whole Passion of Christ Thing, and reading about how his dad was a nazi. This isn't enough to condemn someone over, but my weirdo-thinking alarm definantly goes off when someone who's parent was a fanatic about a cause, becomes a fanatic about a cause. Unfortunatly, since my way of thinking is in the minority, my weirdo-thinking alarm is always going off.
ANYTIME A HUMAN decides there is a universal truth, their thinking becomes eskew. My weirdo-thinking alarm is then set off -- whether I am readinng their words, watching their play, whatever... I become suspect of the person's ability to think and learn.
However....
My dad was a fairly intelligent, balanced thinking person. He was certainly not a fanatic about anything, unless you can count his stubborn refusal to be depressed all the time regardless of the Bukowskian nightmares he conjoured. How would I have fared if he were a Nazi?
This is a post modern time, when our parent's beliefs do not necessarily end up being our own. . . right? I like to think so, but then again -- there were no jew-nigger-spic-fag-hating people in my family. They existed in my town, in my neighborhood, in conversations and the jokes I read in National Lampoon, but in my family that was just not the way we were. Now my freinds are people who don't use these words. Our brains are effected by such things
Literally, how we think is based on a couple things. One of them is how well we can make a dialectic in our mind.
How well we can think of an apple, then an orange, then a combination of the two fruits.
This dialectic helps me to look at things grey. My brain does not stop with the initial evidence and make a decision. No. Tell me that god is the creator of a seven day wonder, and this other thought slams into that one saying there is no proof of a god and the concept is being abused and used and whored out all around me... this A + B equals my present mindset, which is that god is relevant as a manifestation of a cloaking mechanism that people use to hide the real world from their eyes.
This equation of course then happens over and over all day in your brain, once it is activated... dialectics rise, merge, then have dialectics with other dialectics. You get the picture... this is how your personal cosmology comes into being. Takes place mostly beyond you, in grunted conversations between cave men dwelling deep in the dark tunnels of your psych...
On the other hand, if the easy answers were good enough for my parents, if they had decided to give into chimp-lies like nationalism, extreme religiousity, nazism, etc... would I have ever even developed the ability to create a dialectic? College should do this, but I have seen stubborn people push their way through an education without learning anything important, so it happens.
I don't know if Mel Gibson went to college or not, or much about him at all, to be honest.... I do know he has lived a worldy life, too worldy to not have had any initial prejudicial infection from his parents challanged again and again by dialectics that pretty much say jews are just people who follow a few religious rituals sometimes, like most the rest of us. . . (though not me, because I am thinking on a plane altogether superior to the god-weasled, of course).
Mel would have said anything to hurt this person. That he fell back on the stupid lies of his nazi father is almost to be expected.
I am more impressed that he is taking full blame for his actions. I mean, what the hell? Drinking too much is a fucked up, diseased way to live. If this gets him to stop, he'll be damn happy this shit happened.... if not, he'll just add it to his pile of regrets.
So, since I am still spending all of my time thinking about this new book instead of writing, here I am jumping on the bloggers opinion of the day!!!!
Man, I'm really blogging now!!!
QUIT CRUCIFYING ME, YOU JEWS!!! The handsome australian rougue told the earnest young officer.
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
GOD WEASLED, BY GILFORD TUTTLE, WHITE, MALE, CHRTISTIAN, WARRIOR.
Once more I have been called by the lord to preach among the heathens on this web site, because evidently there are a lot of readers who missed the earlier letters that I had in here -- otherwise you would stop coming in here and reading this vile, drug addled attempt at prose. I take comfort in the thought that I am so personally blessed by godly insight that you will be a completly different person after reading this prose. You will be.... GOD WEASLED!!!
Yeah, I say, today I am speaking about the blonde, buff, deity with balls as big as mountains, the manly fanny patter himself, Jock Jesus.
His almighty manhoodedness tells me to talk about god weasling.
God Weasling is one of the primary tenents of the religion that has formed here, in the bosom of the Tuttle Family, after we were blessedly thrown out of our old church when our two year old started talking in tounges and we insisted everyone shut up and listen during services. Fools are all going to hell for that one, unless they send me a tithing or two. The Tuttle Family Electric Bill Fund is in need of donators at this point. If not for the money I make forcing the kids to work paper routes all night, I do not know how Jock Jesus would support my ministry, but I am sure he would find a way. For I bring the wisdom of the God Weasled.
God Weasling is as old as religion itself. Basically it means you can trick people into becoming religious by any means possible, like abducting them and brainwashing for them for a few months (as long as you can get them to sign a release, which is easy once they are brain washed -- ask the scientologists, those litigenous bastards). To this end, I have started doing some experiments with brain washing on the kids. And praise the Blonde Buff One, I was able to make them into little machines that go to school all day, then deliver papers all night -- all the while being filled with religious esctasy by the combination of drugs and chanting that I keep them on.
Now that I know this works, I am going to start snatching kids, juvenile deliquent types, and brainwashing them for about eight weeks, after which they will find 'ecstasy' through sleep deprivation, chanting, and giving me all the money from their paper routes.
Thank god for Reverend Sung Young Moon, that conservative shark killing chink, he was a messenger of how to create a great religion, even though Satan obviously did take him over in the end, or he would have long ago turned his money and resources over to Jock Jesus, as all the rightous on earth have.
So, you whores, sodomites, celebrity poker watching hell bound boofs and others not associated with the Tuttle Church OF Jock Jesus, or one of my kids subsideries (I have created what I call mini-churches, refrigerator boxes painted with crosses and our symbol, a bicep flexing mightely, where I post them throughout the month to read our daily family newsletter, play tapes of our blessed two year old speaking in tounges, and other things that they damn well better get donations for or they have to stay out there until they do-- poor kids, they must be really sinning on the side for the blonde buff one to curse them like this, but what can I do in the face of god, eh?)..... you have two choices -- get rid of your hippy christ now and turn him in for Jock Jesus in a sleeveless shirt with balls as big as mountains (need I even add they are perfectyly shaped ovals?), or die and go to hell, where Satan will shove hot pokers up your ass for all eternity.... and you only like it when your mom is watching.
The Buff One Does work in mysterious ways. I can make this all clear to you in six to eight weeks. You can pay me back for my services afterwards with almost all the money you make for the rest of your lives.
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
Yeah, I say, today I am speaking about the blonde, buff, deity with balls as big as mountains, the manly fanny patter himself, Jock Jesus.
His almighty manhoodedness tells me to talk about god weasling.
God Weasling is one of the primary tenents of the religion that has formed here, in the bosom of the Tuttle Family, after we were blessedly thrown out of our old church when our two year old started talking in tounges and we insisted everyone shut up and listen during services. Fools are all going to hell for that one, unless they send me a tithing or two. The Tuttle Family Electric Bill Fund is in need of donators at this point. If not for the money I make forcing the kids to work paper routes all night, I do not know how Jock Jesus would support my ministry, but I am sure he would find a way. For I bring the wisdom of the God Weasled.
God Weasling is as old as religion itself. Basically it means you can trick people into becoming religious by any means possible, like abducting them and brainwashing for them for a few months (as long as you can get them to sign a release, which is easy once they are brain washed -- ask the scientologists, those litigenous bastards). To this end, I have started doing some experiments with brain washing on the kids. And praise the Blonde Buff One, I was able to make them into little machines that go to school all day, then deliver papers all night -- all the while being filled with religious esctasy by the combination of drugs and chanting that I keep them on.
Now that I know this works, I am going to start snatching kids, juvenile deliquent types, and brainwashing them for about eight weeks, after which they will find 'ecstasy' through sleep deprivation, chanting, and giving me all the money from their paper routes.
Thank god for Reverend Sung Young Moon, that conservative shark killing chink, he was a messenger of how to create a great religion, even though Satan obviously did take him over in the end, or he would have long ago turned his money and resources over to Jock Jesus, as all the rightous on earth have.
So, you whores, sodomites, celebrity poker watching hell bound boofs and others not associated with the Tuttle Church OF Jock Jesus, or one of my kids subsideries (I have created what I call mini-churches, refrigerator boxes painted with crosses and our symbol, a bicep flexing mightely, where I post them throughout the month to read our daily family newsletter, play tapes of our blessed two year old speaking in tounges, and other things that they damn well better get donations for or they have to stay out there until they do-- poor kids, they must be really sinning on the side for the blonde buff one to curse them like this, but what can I do in the face of god, eh?)..... you have two choices -- get rid of your hippy christ now and turn him in for Jock Jesus in a sleeveless shirt with balls as big as mountains (need I even add they are perfectyly shaped ovals?), or die and go to hell, where Satan will shove hot pokers up your ass for all eternity.... and you only like it when your mom is watching.
The Buff One Does work in mysterious ways. I can make this all clear to you in six to eight weeks. You can pay me back for my services afterwards with almost all the money you make for the rest of your lives.
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
THE HELL KILLER....
I used to always wonder how the quiet, furtive guys on the nightly news became the killers described in court. Then I heard this story, from a down on his luck weasel who was living off the dead fish that sweep up on the Lunt Avenue beach...
He was twelve when sex and sin became all mixed up in his mind. Joseph's adolescent hormones were driving him to obsessed Spring Fever at the same time his family converted, whole heartedly and five nights a week, to a fundementalist congregation, The First Church Of Christ Bleeding, which was intent on convincing all the young people that they were warriors fighting an epic battle of good versus evil. Sex was only discussed in terms of AIDS and Satanic Impulses and other dark, horror stories that the adults in the church used to try to keep heathen impulses out of their children.
Joseph was a quiet child, prone to going off by himself for long hours out in the woods behind his Hammond, Indiana house. No one knew much about him. His family and his church were both convinced that his intense, eye popping hatred of all sin
was the sign of rightous man, and he went to school and got a job and wasn't no trouble, like some of their other kids.
At eighteen, he decided, after a particularly grueling shift at a Dunkin Donuts working under a short, distempered boss, to join the Army. He loved the discipline, the training, the guns. At first he was pretty sure he could be a soldier. Then he stabbed some guy. A fag. In the bathrooms at a state park, where he was having a picinic. They let him off with a dishonorable discharge. His family understood. He just told them that he had killed a sodomite.
He finally left the church at twenty-four, after meeting a woman who introduced him to sex and drinking. Took him six months to realize that she was a Jezebel out to get his soul. She took out restraining orders against him, wouldn't let him ever see the kid. Next year he got a notice in the mail saying his wages were going to be garnished for child support. He hunted her down and put an end to that shit. She was the first woman he killed. Most everyone seemed to know he did it. His best defense was his quiet demeanor and his furtive mannerism of never looking anyone in the eye. There was not even enough evidence to take him to trial. He wasn't about to tell the cops no lies, so he just said nothing to them. He had seen about that on TV and it worked. They just quit bugging him after a few weeks, and the kid was put up for adoption.
They called him the Hell Killer, because he used the various circles of Dante's Hell to kill people. In his mind he was merely making a display of their sin, trying to warn children to keep satan out of their heads. As long as he killed in the service of the lord, he felt important... unlike his work day or when he was talking to other people. He was an instrument of god and nothing else on the earth could compare to that feeling for him. This was the spirit world where he had a place of high, high standing; where he was an avenging angel. He spent a lot of time thinking about his place in the heavens and praising god for making him so important in the grand scheme.
He killed nine people, freezing some, burning others, and then kind of eluding to the other circles... but no one in law enforcement or the press ever seemed to realize what he was doing. Unbeknownst to him, though, they indeed were following his case and calling him the Hell Killer, but the detective who was in charge of the case was keeping everything out of the papers, in the hopes of using the information to find the murderer.
Other than his first wife, no one ever did associate Joseph with the murders in his home town of Hammond, Indiana' in this respect he was like most serial killers who toil along in obscurity rather than let man's laws interfer with their heavenly mandates.
Joseph's illegitimate son, Cedric, started seeing ghosts as an infant, when his greiving mother's soul refused to leave his side. Her connection to the child was still strong enough to keep her ectoplasm in this realm for almost six months. During this formative period in the development of his brain, he started tapping into a generally unused portion of the human brain that can talk to ghosts. He generally ignored the phenomena, thinking he was just making things up... until he was sixteen,
and a strange man appeared at his door. Dressed all in black, pale and tall and thin with a hooked nose and sharp, popping out red and blue eyes. "I'm your father."
Behind the strange man, the ghosts of the people Joseph had killed were quite clear to his son. The ghosts were doing their damndest to slash and bite the man's black suited body, but he didn't notice them at all. Soon after this encounter, Cedric started seeing other people walking by with the souls of those they'd murdered clinging to them, waiting for their mortal coil to snap so they could avenge themselves... he started attending a church about then, sitting in the back and hearing a fundamentalist preach fire and brimstone; the black and white world they described was a lot different than the secular humanism his adopted parents had raised him to believe...but something else about it seemed so natural, so right, that he was able to convince himself that there was a god, and he had a plan... .
After much prayer and a conversation with a television program that may or may not have been a Twilight Zone, he decided that he was fated to hunt down these killers and set their souls free... so the murdered could get their revenge. A ghostly grudge match.
And he did just that. . . even though all the ghosts were manifestations of a defective conduit for a certain hormone in his grey, squirmy brain.
While he was awaiting trial, the connection to his father was discovered by a happy accident of dna testing -- both of their profiles came up on a skin sample under the nails of one of Cedric's victims. The detective who was heading the case took the story to the tabloid press and made a killing for revealing that Cedric's first victim was the Hell Killer, who was indeed his father....
In the last months leading up to his execution in Joiliet Prisoner, Cedric began painting his father over and over again, as well as his different victims surrounded by the ghosts they had themselves killed.
At 12:01 am last night he was put to death. As he crawled out of his body and looked around the afterlife, he saw a huge crowd of ghosts -- who turned out to be all the people who he had helped avenge. They surrounded him and protected him as the evil ghosts he had killed tried to get at him, and then whisked him away to a rather pleasent spot in the universe, where he reincarnated as a sun baked toad on a peaceful, bountiful, breeze laden planet.
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
He was twelve when sex and sin became all mixed up in his mind. Joseph's adolescent hormones were driving him to obsessed Spring Fever at the same time his family converted, whole heartedly and five nights a week, to a fundementalist congregation, The First Church Of Christ Bleeding, which was intent on convincing all the young people that they were warriors fighting an epic battle of good versus evil. Sex was only discussed in terms of AIDS and Satanic Impulses and other dark, horror stories that the adults in the church used to try to keep heathen impulses out of their children.
Joseph was a quiet child, prone to going off by himself for long hours out in the woods behind his Hammond, Indiana house. No one knew much about him. His family and his church were both convinced that his intense, eye popping hatred of all sin
was the sign of rightous man, and he went to school and got a job and wasn't no trouble, like some of their other kids.
At eighteen, he decided, after a particularly grueling shift at a Dunkin Donuts working under a short, distempered boss, to join the Army. He loved the discipline, the training, the guns. At first he was pretty sure he could be a soldier. Then he stabbed some guy. A fag. In the bathrooms at a state park, where he was having a picinic. They let him off with a dishonorable discharge. His family understood. He just told them that he had killed a sodomite.
He finally left the church at twenty-four, after meeting a woman who introduced him to sex and drinking. Took him six months to realize that she was a Jezebel out to get his soul. She took out restraining orders against him, wouldn't let him ever see the kid. Next year he got a notice in the mail saying his wages were going to be garnished for child support. He hunted her down and put an end to that shit. She was the first woman he killed. Most everyone seemed to know he did it. His best defense was his quiet demeanor and his furtive mannerism of never looking anyone in the eye. There was not even enough evidence to take him to trial. He wasn't about to tell the cops no lies, so he just said nothing to them. He had seen about that on TV and it worked. They just quit bugging him after a few weeks, and the kid was put up for adoption.
They called him the Hell Killer, because he used the various circles of Dante's Hell to kill people. In his mind he was merely making a display of their sin, trying to warn children to keep satan out of their heads. As long as he killed in the service of the lord, he felt important... unlike his work day or when he was talking to other people. He was an instrument of god and nothing else on the earth could compare to that feeling for him. This was the spirit world where he had a place of high, high standing; where he was an avenging angel. He spent a lot of time thinking about his place in the heavens and praising god for making him so important in the grand scheme.
He killed nine people, freezing some, burning others, and then kind of eluding to the other circles... but no one in law enforcement or the press ever seemed to realize what he was doing. Unbeknownst to him, though, they indeed were following his case and calling him the Hell Killer, but the detective who was in charge of the case was keeping everything out of the papers, in the hopes of using the information to find the murderer.
Other than his first wife, no one ever did associate Joseph with the murders in his home town of Hammond, Indiana' in this respect he was like most serial killers who toil along in obscurity rather than let man's laws interfer with their heavenly mandates.
Joseph's illegitimate son, Cedric, started seeing ghosts as an infant, when his greiving mother's soul refused to leave his side. Her connection to the child was still strong enough to keep her ectoplasm in this realm for almost six months. During this formative period in the development of his brain, he started tapping into a generally unused portion of the human brain that can talk to ghosts. He generally ignored the phenomena, thinking he was just making things up... until he was sixteen,
and a strange man appeared at his door. Dressed all in black, pale and tall and thin with a hooked nose and sharp, popping out red and blue eyes. "I'm your father."
Behind the strange man, the ghosts of the people Joseph had killed were quite clear to his son. The ghosts were doing their damndest to slash and bite the man's black suited body, but he didn't notice them at all. Soon after this encounter, Cedric started seeing other people walking by with the souls of those they'd murdered clinging to them, waiting for their mortal coil to snap so they could avenge themselves... he started attending a church about then, sitting in the back and hearing a fundamentalist preach fire and brimstone; the black and white world they described was a lot different than the secular humanism his adopted parents had raised him to believe...but something else about it seemed so natural, so right, that he was able to convince himself that there was a god, and he had a plan... .
After much prayer and a conversation with a television program that may or may not have been a Twilight Zone, he decided that he was fated to hunt down these killers and set their souls free... so the murdered could get their revenge. A ghostly grudge match.
And he did just that. . . even though all the ghosts were manifestations of a defective conduit for a certain hormone in his grey, squirmy brain.
While he was awaiting trial, the connection to his father was discovered by a happy accident of dna testing -- both of their profiles came up on a skin sample under the nails of one of Cedric's victims. The detective who was heading the case took the story to the tabloid press and made a killing for revealing that Cedric's first victim was the Hell Killer, who was indeed his father....
In the last months leading up to his execution in Joiliet Prisoner, Cedric began painting his father over and over again, as well as his different victims surrounded by the ghosts they had themselves killed.
At 12:01 am last night he was put to death. As he crawled out of his body and looked around the afterlife, he saw a huge crowd of ghosts -- who turned out to be all the people who he had helped avenge. They surrounded him and protected him as the evil ghosts he had killed tried to get at him, and then whisked him away to a rather pleasent spot in the universe, where he reincarnated as a sun baked toad on a peaceful, bountiful, breeze laden planet.
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
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Before I go into the actual list of items for sale this month, let me make sure that all of you Hell-Bounds -- which is what those blessed enough to be in our church call the rest of you --- are made once more aware of our Company Slogan:
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copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
GILFORD TUTTLE, WHITE MALE CHRISTIAN WARRIOR BRINGS YOU THE DIVINE DOUCHE OF JESUS JUICE
GILFORD TUTTLE, WHITE MALE CHRISTIAN WARRIOR BRINGS YOU THE DIVINE DOUCHE OF JESUS JUICE
Gilford Tuttle, White Male Christian Warrior Prophet And Keeper Of All Keys To The Holy Kingdom Of The Blonde Buff One, Jock Jesus, continuing my mission to save souls in cyber space and provide quality, blessed products 100% Guaranteed To Bring redemption, or a slight repreive from damnation (depending on how far gone you are already, or if you were cursed to be satan's children on earth, like the blacks and the chinese and jews and other known never-gonna-be-white-enough-to-work-out-in-the-same-gym as the Short haired blonde buff Jock Jesus). We are talking the Divine Douch Of Jesus Juice, which when sluiced through your diseased genitlia by the gallons, can make your woman smell tolerable even to the Blonde Buff One.
Today's product is needed by most harlots in America, this Satan ladden land. And by harlot, I mean all women folk over the age of seven who have not been blessed by being born into the specific type of family that our lord demands to bestow his blessings -- the Tuttle Family to be precise.
This product came to my wife, Geraldine, who is a Sunday School teacher from way back, and has read the bible 49 times and counting, so you know she knows her stuff. I mean, like I tell the kids, if all you know is the bible, then everything you know is true, so how can you go wrong? My wife was told this by her father, the often misunderstood prophet Vernon Vernon Vernon Eugene, who used to hang out, often in a pink tuti, downtown by the bus station and preach about the dangers of harlots... well, actually he just pointed at all the women going by and screamed at the top of his lungs -- HARLOT... Though few knew this at the time, God had a plan for that man -- to deliver unto me a wife worthy of I, Gilford Tuttle, who was recognized as a toungue speaker at the tender age of three months by the greatest prophet West Virginia ever saw -- Crabby Smelting Eugene Milton, who preached at the The Second Church Of His Bleeding Toes.
Geraldine Douches every two hours, or more.... She always has our two year old bless it so the water is Holier than anything that Pope ever waved his wicked wizard wand over. That woman is like the Virgin Mary, I tell you . We prayed together our first night. Sat up thinking about holding hands until almost 10 pm. Wow. Others may one day be blessed with a love like ours, but there is nothing I have seen in this world to compare to it, that is for sure. This is our burden, I told Geraldine the other night, we have to be the first to go back into Eden. This set her off crying, as it always does when that Damn Eve's first sin is brought up. Geraldine just feels so bad about that, and well she should I suppose.
I imagine there will be many, many books written in heaven about us (there will be no time here, because the signs of the apocolypse are many and it is near, so near). Geraldine was raised in the best manner a person has ever been, as our children are now -- home schooled. She can proudly state that she indeed has never read any other book than the bible, which is working just fine for our kids, by the way, too -- in fact, they are turning out perfect... except for that one genital touching incident with the prophet Ezekial, when he was three months (we tied his hands up good after that, and I am proud to say, after all these years of the family praying for him to forgiven for that dark afternoon, he will now not even touch his penis, like all good men).
If someone gave me a choice between buying A few gallons of Divine Juice Of Jesus Douch and going to Hell, I know what I would do.... and I am perfect. You are not. Who do you think you should listen to? If you are thinking not I Gilford Tuttle, then Satan has control of your mind. Send me just 59.99, or best offer.
Now is the time to wake up you sinners and Douche Satan Out Before It Is Too Late!!!!
Gilford Tuttle, White Male Christian Warror, Holy Prophet Of The Blonde Buff One And True God, and salesmen of many quality, eternal life enhanching products.
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
Gilford Tuttle, White Male Christian Warrior Prophet And Keeper Of All Keys To The Holy Kingdom Of The Blonde Buff One, Jock Jesus, continuing my mission to save souls in cyber space and provide quality, blessed products 100% Guaranteed To Bring redemption, or a slight repreive from damnation (depending on how far gone you are already, or if you were cursed to be satan's children on earth, like the blacks and the chinese and jews and other known never-gonna-be-white-enough-to-work-out-in-the-same-gym as the Short haired blonde buff Jock Jesus). We are talking the Divine Douch Of Jesus Juice, which when sluiced through your diseased genitlia by the gallons, can make your woman smell tolerable even to the Blonde Buff One.
Today's product is needed by most harlots in America, this Satan ladden land. And by harlot, I mean all women folk over the age of seven who have not been blessed by being born into the specific type of family that our lord demands to bestow his blessings -- the Tuttle Family to be precise.
This product came to my wife, Geraldine, who is a Sunday School teacher from way back, and has read the bible 49 times and counting, so you know she knows her stuff. I mean, like I tell the kids, if all you know is the bible, then everything you know is true, so how can you go wrong? My wife was told this by her father, the often misunderstood prophet Vernon Vernon Vernon Eugene, who used to hang out, often in a pink tuti, downtown by the bus station and preach about the dangers of harlots... well, actually he just pointed at all the women going by and screamed at the top of his lungs -- HARLOT... Though few knew this at the time, God had a plan for that man -- to deliver unto me a wife worthy of I, Gilford Tuttle, who was recognized as a toungue speaker at the tender age of three months by the greatest prophet West Virginia ever saw -- Crabby Smelting Eugene Milton, who preached at the The Second Church Of His Bleeding Toes.
Geraldine Douches every two hours, or more.... She always has our two year old bless it so the water is Holier than anything that Pope ever waved his wicked wizard wand over. That woman is like the Virgin Mary, I tell you . We prayed together our first night. Sat up thinking about holding hands until almost 10 pm. Wow. Others may one day be blessed with a love like ours, but there is nothing I have seen in this world to compare to it, that is for sure. This is our burden, I told Geraldine the other night, we have to be the first to go back into Eden. This set her off crying, as it always does when that Damn Eve's first sin is brought up. Geraldine just feels so bad about that, and well she should I suppose.
I imagine there will be many, many books written in heaven about us (there will be no time here, because the signs of the apocolypse are many and it is near, so near). Geraldine was raised in the best manner a person has ever been, as our children are now -- home schooled. She can proudly state that she indeed has never read any other book than the bible, which is working just fine for our kids, by the way, too -- in fact, they are turning out perfect... except for that one genital touching incident with the prophet Ezekial, when he was three months (we tied his hands up good after that, and I am proud to say, after all these years of the family praying for him to forgiven for that dark afternoon, he will now not even touch his penis, like all good men).
If someone gave me a choice between buying A few gallons of Divine Juice Of Jesus Douch and going to Hell, I know what I would do.... and I am perfect. You are not. Who do you think you should listen to? If you are thinking not I Gilford Tuttle, then Satan has control of your mind. Send me just 59.99, or best offer.
Now is the time to wake up you sinners and Douche Satan Out Before It Is Too Late!!!!
Gilford Tuttle, White Male Christian Warror, Holy Prophet Of The Blonde Buff One And True God, and salesmen of many quality, eternal life enhanching products.
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
Saturday, June 24, 2006
SCHLOCKY OLD HOLLYWOOD WHORE DIES!!!!
This guy helped dummy down the world... yet, I could forgive him even for Charlie's Angel... and the other schlock he foisted on the world, but Beverly Hills 90210 brought something horrible, just horrible... I can barely bring myself to write it.... I write, of course, of Tory Spelling. I will not forgive this chintzy huckster as long as I draw a breath for flashing this shockingly disturbing visage on my beloved tv. I mean, couldn't she be buried with him? Well, euphamistically, I am sure she will be... I watched that reality show of hers once for about three minutes -- a few horrifying moments when I lost the remote (this was indeed the instance that caused me to have the remote surgically attached to my hand, an increasingly popular operation for stoner couch potatoes).
I don't know when I decided that glowing obituaries of people need to be rebutted. I suppose it has something to do with trying to compensate for being an aleinated white boy with no cultural that he wants or respects, and more than a few that I actively despise. . . perhaps, if I could afford a sports car? If my penis were a couple inches larger -- 14 inches would increase my confidence, I think... Guess I'll never know why I have become such a misanthropic asshole in this blog. I am not like this in my personal life, obviously -- they hit me with sticks and stuff, so I am nice.... gotta watch those sticks and stones. But words? Words can never hurt you.... yea, right.
I was not very judgemental before I became educated. . . it is easy to be accepting when you ignorant. Easy to believe you are disconnected from the world, that your actions are worthless. That politics means nothing and you live in a kind of vaccum unaffected by the world -- that all the battles that are going to be fought in your life are going to be between you and your own emotions and weaknesses. . . and of course, this kind of thinking can only become a self-fullfilling prophecy.
This Spelling crapped in tv in a time when it was a toilet, and it was better than some of the other crap in the bowl at getting dum people to come in and have a gape at the crunchy texture, or whatever... and now he has died, after living a rich life that was the anti-thesis of the art that could transform society into a less glittery place, and instead flaunted his moneyed little society like it was a microcosm of the world, when in reality it was just a bunch of not very smart people who found themselves right at the level of dum that they met with the average dum out there in the world, and they catered to it... instead of trying to teach teh chimp to talk, they taught it a new way to beat off and toss turds... and now he is praised as some kind of icon? Better to remember all those articles over the years talking about the dark side of this cat, before some kid tries to base his life on writing crap like this, thinking mediocrity and pandering to the most base appeals of the chimp is the way to go. . .
Aaron Spelling -- what a waste.
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
I don't know when I decided that glowing obituaries of people need to be rebutted. I suppose it has something to do with trying to compensate for being an aleinated white boy with no cultural that he wants or respects, and more than a few that I actively despise. . . perhaps, if I could afford a sports car? If my penis were a couple inches larger -- 14 inches would increase my confidence, I think... Guess I'll never know why I have become such a misanthropic asshole in this blog. I am not like this in my personal life, obviously -- they hit me with sticks and stuff, so I am nice.... gotta watch those sticks and stones. But words? Words can never hurt you.... yea, right.
I was not very judgemental before I became educated. . . it is easy to be accepting when you ignorant. Easy to believe you are disconnected from the world, that your actions are worthless. That politics means nothing and you live in a kind of vaccum unaffected by the world -- that all the battles that are going to be fought in your life are going to be between you and your own emotions and weaknesses. . . and of course, this kind of thinking can only become a self-fullfilling prophecy.
This Spelling crapped in tv in a time when it was a toilet, and it was better than some of the other crap in the bowl at getting dum people to come in and have a gape at the crunchy texture, or whatever... and now he has died, after living a rich life that was the anti-thesis of the art that could transform society into a less glittery place, and instead flaunted his moneyed little society like it was a microcosm of the world, when in reality it was just a bunch of not very smart people who found themselves right at the level of dum that they met with the average dum out there in the world, and they catered to it... instead of trying to teach teh chimp to talk, they taught it a new way to beat off and toss turds... and now he is praised as some kind of icon? Better to remember all those articles over the years talking about the dark side of this cat, before some kid tries to base his life on writing crap like this, thinking mediocrity and pandering to the most base appeals of the chimp is the way to go. . .
Aaron Spelling -- what a waste.
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
Friday, June 23, 2006
putting the pain on some scientologists who dared challenge me...
On the movie review site, Rotten Tomatoes, I had the pleasure of baiting some of the Scientologists that they have constantly searching the net for negative things about Cruise and their church. They are notorious for using the sneaky tactics of the criminal organization that they are; I read somewhere that they have thousands of people doing this crap, just out there spreading lies and shit to make their religion look good, even as little by little the internet tears them apart by exposing their TOM-FOOLERY...
OKAY, SO below is a few of the scientology apologists and my responses to them. I got a kick out of them. Like I said, I had read about how the L. RONBOTS were combing the web for commets like this and basically declaring psychological war on whomever wrote them -- and sure enough, they.attack . . . .
FIRST L. ROBOT REBUTTAL to some mild dis of the impossible mission:
I arranged this one with my target in Itallics.
THIS ONE IS AS UNINTERESTING AS THE OTHERS, BUT HE RESORTED TO NAME CALLING, SO I RESPONDED IN KIND...I LOVE CALLING NAMES!!!
And make an effort to read me. You insulting moron! You piss me off you arrogant jerk.
GOOD!!! GLAD I COULD PISS YOU OFF... I MADE AN EFFORT TO READ YOU, BUT YOU MADE NO EFFORT TO LEARN TO WRITE, MAKING THIS ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE... I am not arrogant, merely right... that really burns you're ignorant ***, huh? Thank you for resorting to name calling... and you NO MORE REPRESENT THE RICK ROSS INSTITUTE THAN I DO YOU!!!!! You have either never read this site, or you simply did noT understand a word you read. I am going with the latter.
You are obviously a scientologist yourself, or an apologist for them... look up the words I use and maybe, just maybe, you could get a glimmer of real thoughts perculating in your mind, instead of having to be told to go on the internet and PROTECT TOM SMOOZE.
Not surprising you are an intolerant jackass. Racist?
I am the most tolerant man in the world. Your religion is intolerant. oR YOU ARE SO DUM THAT YOU ARE AN APOLOGIST FOR A RELIGION YOU DESPISE, WHICH IS JUST SAD... YOU REALLY SHOULD BE MORE CAREFUL WHAT WORDS SLOBBER OUT OF YOUR MOUTH. THOUGH TOLERANT, I RESPOND IN KIND... FORCE WITH FORCE.... Just like I would cut off the balls of anyone who tried to get my brothers in a cult, and you people kill, bully, sue, and act like an intelligence organization, when in fact you make an oxymporon of the phrase (again, ask someone smarter than you to tell you what I mean -- start with any stranger on the street, I am sure that will do.
No surprise you take people as stupid because they are strangers.
STEVEN HAWKINS IS A STRANGER TO ME... I don't think he is an idiot; jus tpeople like who, who can't even put together a sentence, let alone a thought. Your problem is that I am a big boy, so you can't really play with me, you see? No, I guesss you don't.
First for your knowledge, I know Rick Ross since 2001, I give his name everywhere on every boards and topics related to Tom and scientology, Imdb, fansite (which I have been ban because I talked scientology , who do you think you are talking too?You think fans are idiot? As a fan I know everything since a long time.
READING RICK ROSS IS EVIDENTLY QUITE DIFFERENT THEN UNDERSTANDING HIM. I DO NOT BELIEVE, BASED UPON ALL THE SUBTLE CULT REFERENCES IN HERE, THAT YOU ARE ANYTHING MORE THAN A SCIENTOLOGIST..WHICH MEANS THE DIARREAH IN YOUR CRANIUM IS SEEPING OUT OF YOUR EARS ONTO THIS PAGE.... EXPLAINS THE STENCH ON YOUR POSTS.
'It is not just because he jump on a couch that I'm NOW talking about him like you do.'
THIS SENTENCE MAKES NO SENSE... look up the word 'tense.' Oh, never mind, grammar will be way beyond you -- unfortunatlEy, it is one of the few indicators of an excellent, educated mind. Guess which one of us applies?
you are also very close minded, people are different, human beings is an inepuisable source.
OH, AND YOU USE THIS ONE.... 'inepiusable source.' This is a great word, 'IMEPISUSABLE'. Not a real word, but a cool sounding one.
That also doesn't surprise me Intolerance= not considering undertanding, searching on people willing to know. Just close minded.
ABOVE IS ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE SENTENCES THAT COME OUT OF IDIOTS, NOT SMART FOLK LIKE ME. See, this is why everyone ignores you and throws sticks at you!!!
THANK YOU -- YOU REALLY MADE ME LAUGH TODAY!!!
Oh, I also go daily on Cultnews.net, I am on OCMB, Xenu.net etc.
I know. The difference is that I am a fan, I care, I love movies.
'You have nothing to talk about it here.' I LOVE YOUR IGNORANCE, IT MAKES YOU A TARGET BIGGER THAN A HOUSE!!!!
You have specifics sites, OCMB (like I go there to talk about this), Alt.religions.com, google groups...etc
Don't harrass the fans.
THIS LAST SENTENCE PRACTICALLY PROVES THIS PERSON IS AN APOLOGIST FOR THE SCIENTOLOGISTS, IF NOT AN OUTRIGHT MEMEBER... REMEMBER THEY HAVE THOUSANDS OF THEIR SLAVES CRUISING THE NET LOOKING FOR COMMENTS LIKE MINE, WHICH IS WHY WHENEVER I RESPOND, THEY IMMEDIATLY COME BACK... WE ARE TALKING WITHIN HOURS.. they say 'don't harrass the fans, though as long as they are out there, I will be out there!!!!
TOm did a great job by talking about scientology, PPD, sonogram, Psychiatry. Nobody cared before he pointed the finger on it.
LOOK AT THIS SENTENCE. THIS IS PROOF THIS PERSON IS ON CRACK.... I KNEW ABOUT SCIENTOLOGY, SONOGRAMS, AND PSYCHIATRY LONG BEFORE TOM CRUISE OPENED HIS MOUTH TO SHOW HE IS A GAPING WHORE OF IGNORANCE.
And Psychiatrists do know MORE THAN TOM SMOOZE. One studies science, and the other studies a cut-rate sci-FI WRITER.... Who you go with says a lot about your smarts. Sorry you missed out on those.
--------You have t o be a royal jerk to follow an actor statement instead of your doctor. Funny, when B Shirlds is said to influence people for takking Paxil, you say: "no, they ask their doctors first".-------
WILL YOU IDIOTS QUIT TRYING TO PUT WORDS IN MY MOUTH. YOU ARE NEITHER GRAMMATICALLY, INTELLECTUALLY OR MORALLY QUALIFIED TO SPEAK FOR ME.... Now, you call people 'royal jerks' if they follow an actors words. Well, let's do something called DECONSTRUCTION. Big word scary huh? Well, it means that since we have dozens of entertainment shows, and magazines, that people like to read about celebrities. And children are the worst about this cult of personality stuff, and they are more easily influnced than most folk. The are not 'royal jerks' for following actors words. They are exactly the kind of vulnerable folk cults Love.
Hum, so Shields is not to be trust but Tom yes? but, Tom is only an actor? but, he is dangerous?
You are all confusing, that's hypocritical.
SOMEONE WHO WROTE THE ABOVE PARAGRAPH CALLED ME CONFUSING...I DON'T THINK I HAVE TO WRITE ANYTHING MORE.
Anyway, now thanks to Tom:
sonograms are forbidden (I can't wait he buy a gun...)
WHAT???? SONOGRAMS ARE NOT FORBIDDEN??? YOU REALLY, REALLY NEED TO GO BACK INTO YOUR 'SPECIAL CLASS' AND LEAVE THE TEACHERS COMPUTER ALONE!!!
scientology is reveal to wilde audience as dangerous
psychiatry abuses are know more and more,
their credibility is also more powerful now against the co$
THE ABOVE THREE LINES MIGHT MAKE A COOL BEAT POEM, BUT THEY ARE NOT ENGLISH, NOR ARE THE LEGIBLE... YOU REALLY ARE MAKING ME LAUGH THOUGH!!!
You should open a dialogue, speak calmly, listen, and listen.
I recommand you to read more on the subject,
SOMEONE WHO WRITES 'I recommand you to read more on the subject,' is telling me to read more on the subject.
ISN'T ALL THIS KIND OF SUSPICIOUS TO THE REGULAR PEOPLE READING THIS??? WHY ARE THEY ALL IN MY FACE, AND WITH THIS ONE, THE MOST INSIDIOUS OF ALL, THEY SAY THEY AGREE WITH ME..
THEN MAKES ALL THESE PRO TOM, PRO SCIENTOLOGY STATEMENTS, WHILE PRETENDING THEY KNOW ABOUT THESE DISEASES....
This is why it is important to know the source of your information. I went to university for twelve years and have four majors. It is on the record, and can be checked out by anyone who wishes to. This fool probably quit school to lick Tom Cruises' *** until it shines for four dollars an hour.
Last edited by johnnypain on 06-22-2006 at 09:12 AM.
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Yesterday, 09:30 AM
Post #22
johnnypain
Seedling
--------------------------------
Joined: May 2006
Location: Chicago, Rogers Park Hood
Posts: 11 I know more than you on every subject...
YOU SURE AS HELL DON'T KNOW MORE ABOUT ME ON GRAMMAR, PUTTING TOGETHER A COHESIVE ARGUEMENT, DEBATE, SPELLING, OR FOR THAT MATTER, ANYTHING YOU HAVE MENTIONED IN YOUR Little Baby Ranting. . . Any readers over like four are going to get that, unless their brain has been too WASHED TO GET ANYTHING THEIR LEADERS DON'T SHOVE UP THEIR ARSES.... I would debate you on anything and win, but you are probably too delusional to realize as much. TO OTHER PEOPLE READING THIS I SAY, DOESN'T HIS USE OF 'I know more than you on every subject..." REEK OF TOM CRUISE TELLING A REPORTER HE 'knows more about psychiatry?"
NOW WATCH THIS FOLKS, ON THE NEXT ONE THIS BOOF STARTS ACCUSING ME OF BEING A SCIENTOLOGISTS... WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS, AND YOU HAVE BEEN PROVEN AN IDIOT... PRETEND THE PERSON WHO PROVED YOU ARE AN IDIOT IS AN IDIOT INSTEAD...OH WELL...
BELOW ARE THE LAST FEW I GOT, WHICH I HAVE NOT HAD TIME TO FORMAT INTO THIS ENTRY.. . and perhaps I never will?
Last edited by johnnypain on 06-23-2006 at 08:46 AM.
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Today, 04:30 AM
Post #23
It.
Growing Member
--------------------------------
Joined: Aug 2005
Posts: 196 WOW LOOK LIKE THE LITTLE SCIENTOLOGIST HERE IS SCREAMING AT ME AGAIN
ARE YOU THE SCIENO WHO ACCUSE TOM FANS NOT FAN OF SCIENTOLOGY TO BE SCIENTOLOGIST?
You are totally ****ed up
I didn't read you here, of course, because since I read you say 'I am ' a scientologist, I quit, also, I am bore to read, and since I am bad in englsih, it don't worth it. But overall, i don't bother to respond to scieno anymore.
You are the scientologist who ban me from Sitefan because I didn't agree with it, funny this is the same Capitals letters you use? ha ha I got you, stalk me man, not scare! I told everyone on OMCB what to do: ignore.
I am famous on Operation Clambake message board, idiot; I am the french who is attack for being a fan, and threaten by ppl like you on movies boards like here because I want to be free.
But that you don't know
how funny the Tom haters and scieno are altogether now.
You both harrass me, I don't care, ban me, sue me, I am french and free. you think you can harrass me like that? I know everyone and J Swift can tell you I am not a scientologist, so don't try to make people beleive fans of Cruise HAS to be scientologist! you are an intolerant jackass and you live in a cult, threatening fan is bad.
I fought against co$ by e mail, I am not scare! I wonder if it's you since I have stalker everywhere.
that's right! go ahead and sue me idiot! Go to hell anyway close minded jerk! fans will never be scientologist! face it moron
Bye bye!
(notice I don't use capital letters, it make you scream; not surprising for a scieno )
__________________
"I will take, what is mine" - Frank TJ Mackey
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Today, 08:40 AM
Stop Putting Words In My Mouth Post #24
johnnypain
Seedling
--------------------------------
Joined: May 2006
Location: Chicago, Rogers Park Hood
Posts: 11 [QUOTE=It.]WOW LOOK LIKE THE LITTLE SCIENTOLOGIST HERE IS SCREAMING AT ME AGAIN
ARE YOU THE SCIENO WHO ACCUSE TOM FANS NOT FAN OF SCIENTOLOGY TO BE SCIENTOLOGIST?
(notice I don't use capital letters, it make you scream; not surprising for a scieno
Frank, you cannot have it both ways... criticise me for capital letters as screaming, and then scream like this on all your posts... are there more than one of you perhaps? i love psychiatry by the way.
Now this guy is accusing me of being a scientologist? They sure use some weird tactics to try to stop critics of scientologists... http://theelvesattic.ebloggy.com I used a bunch of your emails, by the way, on my site... and I am going to use them in my show tonight to show what an idiot you people are.... go away frank (whoever you are) and quit trying to play with the thinking boys -- you lose that ability when you turn your thinking over to a cult.
I am famous on Operation Clambake message board, idiot;
OH, SORRY THERE FRANK, HAD NO IDEA YOU WERE FAMOUS.... ON WHAT IS IT.. OPERATION HAMBAKE... No, that is what I did to you -- a hambake.... I don't suppose you get that, either... THAT MAKES ME LIKE YOU HOW MUCH??? BEING FAMOUS DOES NOT IMPRESS ME, LET ALONE ON A WEBSITE. I just did a search of your name, and found you to be the character in Magnolia... I have found a lot of clues in here that you are a sceintologist -- glad I missed the name, because that movie was not memorible, either, and I would hate to have it taking up valuable space in my memory.... but I am glad that I could show my readers how ignorant you people are.
Last edited by johnnypain on 06-23-2006 at 09:39 AM.
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Today, 09:34 AM
Post #25
johnnypain
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Joined: May 2006
Location: Chicago, Rogers Park Hood
Posts: 11
Quote:
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Originally Posted by johnnypain
[QUOTE=It.]WOW LOOK LIKE THE LITTLE SCIENTOLOGIST HERE IS SCREAMING AT ME AGAIN
ARE YOU THE SCIENO WHO ACCUSE TOM FANS NOT FAN OF SCIENTOLOGY TO BE SCIENTOLOGIST?
(notice I don't use capital letters, it make you scream; not surprising for a scieno
Frank, you cannot have it both ways... criticise me for capital letters as screaming, and then scream like this on all your posts... are there more than one of you perhaps? i love psychiatry by the way.
Now this guy is accusing me of being a scientologist? They sure use some weird tactics to try to stop critics of scientologists... http://theelvesattic.ebloggy.com I used a bunch of your emails, by the way, on my site... and I am going to use them in my show tonight to show what an idiot you people are.... go away frank (whoever you are) and quit trying to play with the thinking boys -- you lose that ability when you turn your thinking over to a cult.
I am famous on Operation Clambake message board, idiot;
OH, SORRY THERE FRANK, HAD NO IDEA YOU WERE FAMOUS.... ON WHAT IS IT.. OPERATION HAMBAKE... THAT MAKES ME LIKE YOU HOW MUCH??? BEING FAMOUS DOES NOT IMPRESS ME, LET ALONE ON A WEBSITE.
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I just noticed this guy has the same name as the character in Magnolia.. now what does that tell you about their affiliation?????
"First of all why is anyone judging a movie based on an actors personal life? Yes, he's weird, but he's one of the few actors who actually make it a point to learn everyone’s name and talk to the crew.
Second of all the movie definitely didn't suck. I find it interesting that you didn't list any reasons why you didn't like it. It's probably because Cruise is a scientologist, and you didn't like the way he acted on Oprah. Let's be quite honest though the real star here was JJ Abrams. He did a fantastic job of making this Mission Impossible his own. He increased the depth of Cruise's character, and made the movie about more than just action."
COMMENT: Note how this person put the movies website in her comment, giving away the jerk who throws meat in her cage.. a l ron bot..
JOHNNY PAIN: Tom Cruise can't buy my opinion -- he's a stupid yokel being a abused by a cult, and his extreme ego can't face that he has wasted his life and money on a stupid fever dream by a less than mediocre, pulp trash writer.
L. RONBOT: : all of you are jealous of his looks, wealth, popularity and the fact that he's boning katie holmes right now
JOHNNY PAIN : I am not jelous or hateful toward other men who are good looking and rich and boning Katy Holmes; he is the victim of a brain washing scheme, and I think this makes people want to say something. Like I always tell my readers, when on the topic of despising religions -- one hates the disease, not the poor person.. . but since Cruise is so rich that he can arrogantly shove his mind-mess on other people, the saner public have begun to resent him, and rightly so. When he ensconsced his new bride in the cult, this young lass from Toledo, Ohio, the world resented his behavior even more... and. . . rightly . . . so....
BRAIN WASHED BAMBOOLEZERS WROTE:
"You're making a joke of yourself , cruise is fine, great artist.
Go away stay, on your blog. Everyone knows since a long time, you're just a kid who learn (the ronbot's mistake, not mine)something and try to impress ppl. LOL try again." THIS CHARACTER HERE USES THE SAME NAME A CRUISE'S CHARACTERI NMAGNOLIA... YET CLAIMS NOT TO BE ASSOCIATED.
JOHNNY PAIN: I am just, as you write, 'a kid who learn something.' Well, I am not trying to impress anyone, little brained one. I don't have to try. And I am 44 years old... grey bearded... I am just an obscure, ****ing writer, one who is educated all to hell, and I can't help it if you think that I am trying to impress you with my attempts to communicate some of the grand and eloquent ideas that I learned in obscure philosophy classes, or whereever (including my fifteen years of cab driving). I also like to write incredibly gross stuff about fools who lead the young and impressionable into CULTS.... Like Tom Cruise, who crossed a line, went from actor to a criminal, when he started making Scientology's brain washing part of his celebrity patter. People like this are the antethesis of what I believe to be the true leaders in our society, and what good is a writer if we don't fight the forces of pseudo-evil in this world???
COMMENT::::They knew about my blog because I mentioned it on the site as a destination for more Cruise bashing... and they thought I was a kid, also indicating they do not know me. This is probably a stock line. You know they are sitting there, looking for comments of any kind that relate to scientology, l ronbots, cruise and travolta and all of their semi-deity's, with a little script to read, like a telemarketer. What I am writing here is all documented quite well by THE RICK ROSS INSTITUTE. Google them up for all the cult news you could ever want.. enough to drive you as crazy as moi... make you want to strike back against these mental predators who take the most precious thing one has, our self; they replace who we were everybit as much as the Invasion Of The Body Snatcher. I have interviewed a lot of ex-cult members, and have a family member who is active in one.. and took numerous classes on the topic. I write these kind of statements not to brag, but because some people like to know the level of credibility that they can grant a writer... people like me.
L. RON BOT: Originally Posted by It.
you are not serious, saying Cruise is a criminal is saying everyone iseveryone beleive everyone make mistake next you're gonna say: "All the Christians are criminals of pedophilia because of the priests At least, Tom is moving his *** for his cause (as much not scientific it is), he cares for kids, see it at the HELP center. Yet If you really care about evil forces, nastiness, and bad people, you would talk about D Miscavige, the scieno *******.But you don't so you have no relevance to me. Just a gossip tabloids sheep.I move on.
JOHNNY PAIN: Please do not put words in my mouth -- especially your illiterate attempts at communication. Tom Cruise is not helping people, he is hurting people. Read up on the deaths due to Scientologists' crazy hatred of medication -- or how L Ron Hubbard, founder of this TOM FOOLERY, had anti-depressents in his system when he died. Various religions throughout time have tried to say don't go to doctors, and this was almost sound advice a couple hundred years ago. Now, people who are not brainwashed, know that they can go to psychiatrists and be treated by the highest experts on the mind that the medical community can produce -- very highly educated individuals.
As far as your extrapolations about my use of the word criminal? Scientologists are scamming people out of money. They promise super powers that no one will ever get. This is why some countries prosecuted them, okay? They are all about selling people packages that actually do little more than brain wash them into wanting more packages. This is criminal to me, and I think they should be prosecuted.
John Revoltya and Tom Smooze suck!!!!
As far as your extrapolations about my use of the word criminal? Scientologists are scamming people out of money. They promise super powers that no one will ever get. This is why some countries prosecuted them, okay? They are all about selling people packages that actually do little more than brain wash them into wanting more packages. This is criminal to me, and I think they should be prosecuted.
Man, dealing with all these deluded pricks really makes me want to do some damage to their illusion.
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
OKAY, SO below is a few of the scientology apologists and my responses to them. I got a kick out of them. Like I said, I had read about how the L. RONBOTS were combing the web for commets like this and basically declaring psychological war on whomever wrote them -- and sure enough, they.attack . . . .
FIRST L. ROBOT REBUTTAL to some mild dis of the impossible mission:
I arranged this one with my target in Itallics.
THIS ONE IS AS UNINTERESTING AS THE OTHERS, BUT HE RESORTED TO NAME CALLING, SO I RESPONDED IN KIND...I LOVE CALLING NAMES!!!
And make an effort to read me. You insulting moron! You piss me off you arrogant jerk.
GOOD!!! GLAD I COULD PISS YOU OFF... I MADE AN EFFORT TO READ YOU, BUT YOU MADE NO EFFORT TO LEARN TO WRITE, MAKING THIS ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE... I am not arrogant, merely right... that really burns you're ignorant ***, huh? Thank you for resorting to name calling... and you NO MORE REPRESENT THE RICK ROSS INSTITUTE THAN I DO YOU!!!!! You have either never read this site, or you simply did noT understand a word you read. I am going with the latter.
You are obviously a scientologist yourself, or an apologist for them... look up the words I use and maybe, just maybe, you could get a glimmer of real thoughts perculating in your mind, instead of having to be told to go on the internet and PROTECT TOM SMOOZE.
Not surprising you are an intolerant jackass. Racist?
I am the most tolerant man in the world. Your religion is intolerant. oR YOU ARE SO DUM THAT YOU ARE AN APOLOGIST FOR A RELIGION YOU DESPISE, WHICH IS JUST SAD... YOU REALLY SHOULD BE MORE CAREFUL WHAT WORDS SLOBBER OUT OF YOUR MOUTH. THOUGH TOLERANT, I RESPOND IN KIND... FORCE WITH FORCE.... Just like I would cut off the balls of anyone who tried to get my brothers in a cult, and you people kill, bully, sue, and act like an intelligence organization, when in fact you make an oxymporon of the phrase (again, ask someone smarter than you to tell you what I mean -- start with any stranger on the street, I am sure that will do.
No surprise you take people as stupid because they are strangers.
STEVEN HAWKINS IS A STRANGER TO ME... I don't think he is an idiot; jus tpeople like who, who can't even put together a sentence, let alone a thought. Your problem is that I am a big boy, so you can't really play with me, you see? No, I guesss you don't.
First for your knowledge, I know Rick Ross since 2001, I give his name everywhere on every boards and topics related to Tom and scientology, Imdb, fansite (which I have been ban because I talked scientology , who do you think you are talking too?You think fans are idiot? As a fan I know everything since a long time.
READING RICK ROSS IS EVIDENTLY QUITE DIFFERENT THEN UNDERSTANDING HIM. I DO NOT BELIEVE, BASED UPON ALL THE SUBTLE CULT REFERENCES IN HERE, THAT YOU ARE ANYTHING MORE THAN A SCIENTOLOGIST..WHICH MEANS THE DIARREAH IN YOUR CRANIUM IS SEEPING OUT OF YOUR EARS ONTO THIS PAGE.... EXPLAINS THE STENCH ON YOUR POSTS.
'It is not just because he jump on a couch that I'm NOW talking about him like you do.'
THIS SENTENCE MAKES NO SENSE... look up the word 'tense.' Oh, never mind, grammar will be way beyond you -- unfortunatlEy, it is one of the few indicators of an excellent, educated mind. Guess which one of us applies?
you are also very close minded, people are different, human beings is an inepuisable source.
OH, AND YOU USE THIS ONE.... 'inepiusable source.' This is a great word, 'IMEPISUSABLE'. Not a real word, but a cool sounding one.
That also doesn't surprise me Intolerance= not considering undertanding, searching on people willing to know. Just close minded.
ABOVE IS ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE SENTENCES THAT COME OUT OF IDIOTS, NOT SMART FOLK LIKE ME. See, this is why everyone ignores you and throws sticks at you!!!
THANK YOU -- YOU REALLY MADE ME LAUGH TODAY!!!
Oh, I also go daily on Cultnews.net, I am on OCMB, Xenu.net etc.
I know. The difference is that I am a fan, I care, I love movies.
'You have nothing to talk about it here.' I LOVE YOUR IGNORANCE, IT MAKES YOU A TARGET BIGGER THAN A HOUSE!!!!
You have specifics sites, OCMB (like I go there to talk about this), Alt.religions.com, google groups...etc
Don't harrass the fans.
THIS LAST SENTENCE PRACTICALLY PROVES THIS PERSON IS AN APOLOGIST FOR THE SCIENTOLOGISTS, IF NOT AN OUTRIGHT MEMEBER... REMEMBER THEY HAVE THOUSANDS OF THEIR SLAVES CRUISING THE NET LOOKING FOR COMMENTS LIKE MINE, WHICH IS WHY WHENEVER I RESPOND, THEY IMMEDIATLY COME BACK... WE ARE TALKING WITHIN HOURS.. they say 'don't harrass the fans, though as long as they are out there, I will be out there!!!!
TOm did a great job by talking about scientology, PPD, sonogram, Psychiatry. Nobody cared before he pointed the finger on it.
LOOK AT THIS SENTENCE. THIS IS PROOF THIS PERSON IS ON CRACK.... I KNEW ABOUT SCIENTOLOGY, SONOGRAMS, AND PSYCHIATRY LONG BEFORE TOM CRUISE OPENED HIS MOUTH TO SHOW HE IS A GAPING WHORE OF IGNORANCE.
And Psychiatrists do know MORE THAN TOM SMOOZE. One studies science, and the other studies a cut-rate sci-FI WRITER.... Who you go with says a lot about your smarts. Sorry you missed out on those.
--------You have t o be a royal jerk to follow an actor statement instead of your doctor. Funny, when B Shirlds is said to influence people for takking Paxil, you say: "no, they ask their doctors first".-------
WILL YOU IDIOTS QUIT TRYING TO PUT WORDS IN MY MOUTH. YOU ARE NEITHER GRAMMATICALLY, INTELLECTUALLY OR MORALLY QUALIFIED TO SPEAK FOR ME.... Now, you call people 'royal jerks' if they follow an actors words. Well, let's do something called DECONSTRUCTION. Big word scary huh? Well, it means that since we have dozens of entertainment shows, and magazines, that people like to read about celebrities. And children are the worst about this cult of personality stuff, and they are more easily influnced than most folk. The are not 'royal jerks' for following actors words. They are exactly the kind of vulnerable folk cults Love.
Hum, so Shields is not to be trust but Tom yes? but, Tom is only an actor? but, he is dangerous?
You are all confusing, that's hypocritical.
SOMEONE WHO WROTE THE ABOVE PARAGRAPH CALLED ME CONFUSING...I DON'T THINK I HAVE TO WRITE ANYTHING MORE.
Anyway, now thanks to Tom:
sonograms are forbidden (I can't wait he buy a gun...)
WHAT???? SONOGRAMS ARE NOT FORBIDDEN??? YOU REALLY, REALLY NEED TO GO BACK INTO YOUR 'SPECIAL CLASS' AND LEAVE THE TEACHERS COMPUTER ALONE!!!
scientology is reveal to wilde audience as dangerous
psychiatry abuses are know more and more,
their credibility is also more powerful now against the co$
THE ABOVE THREE LINES MIGHT MAKE A COOL BEAT POEM, BUT THEY ARE NOT ENGLISH, NOR ARE THE LEGIBLE... YOU REALLY ARE MAKING ME LAUGH THOUGH!!!
You should open a dialogue, speak calmly, listen, and listen.
I recommand you to read more on the subject,
SOMEONE WHO WRITES 'I recommand you to read more on the subject,' is telling me to read more on the subject.
ISN'T ALL THIS KIND OF SUSPICIOUS TO THE REGULAR PEOPLE READING THIS??? WHY ARE THEY ALL IN MY FACE, AND WITH THIS ONE, THE MOST INSIDIOUS OF ALL, THEY SAY THEY AGREE WITH ME..
THEN MAKES ALL THESE PRO TOM, PRO SCIENTOLOGY STATEMENTS, WHILE PRETENDING THEY KNOW ABOUT THESE DISEASES....
This is why it is important to know the source of your information. I went to university for twelve years and have four majors. It is on the record, and can be checked out by anyone who wishes to. This fool probably quit school to lick Tom Cruises' *** until it shines for four dollars an hour.
Last edited by johnnypain on 06-22-2006 at 09:12 AM.
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Yesterday, 09:30 AM
Post #22
johnnypain
Seedling
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Joined: May 2006
Location: Chicago, Rogers Park Hood
Posts: 11 I know more than you on every subject...
YOU SURE AS HELL DON'T KNOW MORE ABOUT ME ON GRAMMAR, PUTTING TOGETHER A COHESIVE ARGUEMENT, DEBATE, SPELLING, OR FOR THAT MATTER, ANYTHING YOU HAVE MENTIONED IN YOUR Little Baby Ranting. . . Any readers over like four are going to get that, unless their brain has been too WASHED TO GET ANYTHING THEIR LEADERS DON'T SHOVE UP THEIR ARSES.... I would debate you on anything and win, but you are probably too delusional to realize as much. TO OTHER PEOPLE READING THIS I SAY, DOESN'T HIS USE OF 'I know more than you on every subject..." REEK OF TOM CRUISE TELLING A REPORTER HE 'knows more about psychiatry?"
NOW WATCH THIS FOLKS, ON THE NEXT ONE THIS BOOF STARTS ACCUSING ME OF BEING A SCIENTOLOGISTS... WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS, AND YOU HAVE BEEN PROVEN AN IDIOT... PRETEND THE PERSON WHO PROVED YOU ARE AN IDIOT IS AN IDIOT INSTEAD...OH WELL...
BELOW ARE THE LAST FEW I GOT, WHICH I HAVE NOT HAD TIME TO FORMAT INTO THIS ENTRY.. . and perhaps I never will?
Last edited by johnnypain on 06-23-2006 at 08:46 AM.
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Today, 04:30 AM
Post #23
It.
Growing Member
--------------------------------
Joined: Aug 2005
Posts: 196 WOW LOOK LIKE THE LITTLE SCIENTOLOGIST HERE IS SCREAMING AT ME AGAIN
ARE YOU THE SCIENO WHO ACCUSE TOM FANS NOT FAN OF SCIENTOLOGY TO BE SCIENTOLOGIST?
You are totally ****ed up
I didn't read you here, of course, because since I read you say 'I am ' a scientologist, I quit, also, I am bore to read, and since I am bad in englsih, it don't worth it. But overall, i don't bother to respond to scieno anymore.
You are the scientologist who ban me from Sitefan because I didn't agree with it, funny this is the same Capitals letters you use? ha ha I got you, stalk me man, not scare! I told everyone on OMCB what to do: ignore.
I am famous on Operation Clambake message board, idiot; I am the french who is attack for being a fan, and threaten by ppl like you on movies boards like here because I want to be free.
But that you don't know
how funny the Tom haters and scieno are altogether now.
You both harrass me, I don't care, ban me, sue me, I am french and free. you think you can harrass me like that? I know everyone and J Swift can tell you I am not a scientologist, so don't try to make people beleive fans of Cruise HAS to be scientologist! you are an intolerant jackass and you live in a cult, threatening fan is bad.
I fought against co$ by e mail, I am not scare! I wonder if it's you since I have stalker everywhere.
that's right! go ahead and sue me idiot! Go to hell anyway close minded jerk! fans will never be scientologist! face it moron
Bye bye!
(notice I don't use capital letters, it make you scream; not surprising for a scieno )
__________________
"I will take, what is mine" - Frank TJ Mackey
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Today, 08:40 AM
Stop Putting Words In My Mouth Post #24
johnnypain
Seedling
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Joined: May 2006
Location: Chicago, Rogers Park Hood
Posts: 11 [QUOTE=It.]WOW LOOK LIKE THE LITTLE SCIENTOLOGIST HERE IS SCREAMING AT ME AGAIN
ARE YOU THE SCIENO WHO ACCUSE TOM FANS NOT FAN OF SCIENTOLOGY TO BE SCIENTOLOGIST?
(notice I don't use capital letters, it make you scream; not surprising for a scieno
Frank, you cannot have it both ways... criticise me for capital letters as screaming, and then scream like this on all your posts... are there more than one of you perhaps? i love psychiatry by the way.
Now this guy is accusing me of being a scientologist? They sure use some weird tactics to try to stop critics of scientologists... http://theelvesattic.ebloggy.com I used a bunch of your emails, by the way, on my site... and I am going to use them in my show tonight to show what an idiot you people are.... go away frank (whoever you are) and quit trying to play with the thinking boys -- you lose that ability when you turn your thinking over to a cult.
I am famous on Operation Clambake message board, idiot;
OH, SORRY THERE FRANK, HAD NO IDEA YOU WERE FAMOUS.... ON WHAT IS IT.. OPERATION HAMBAKE... No, that is what I did to you -- a hambake.... I don't suppose you get that, either... THAT MAKES ME LIKE YOU HOW MUCH??? BEING FAMOUS DOES NOT IMPRESS ME, LET ALONE ON A WEBSITE. I just did a search of your name, and found you to be the character in Magnolia... I have found a lot of clues in here that you are a sceintologist -- glad I missed the name, because that movie was not memorible, either, and I would hate to have it taking up valuable space in my memory.... but I am glad that I could show my readers how ignorant you people are.
Last edited by johnnypain on 06-23-2006 at 09:39 AM.
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Today, 09:34 AM
Post #25
johnnypain
Seedling
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Joined: May 2006
Location: Chicago, Rogers Park Hood
Posts: 11
Quote:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Originally Posted by johnnypain
[QUOTE=It.]WOW LOOK LIKE THE LITTLE SCIENTOLOGIST HERE IS SCREAMING AT ME AGAIN
ARE YOU THE SCIENO WHO ACCUSE TOM FANS NOT FAN OF SCIENTOLOGY TO BE SCIENTOLOGIST?
(notice I don't use capital letters, it make you scream; not surprising for a scieno
Frank, you cannot have it both ways... criticise me for capital letters as screaming, and then scream like this on all your posts... are there more than one of you perhaps? i love psychiatry by the way.
Now this guy is accusing me of being a scientologist? They sure use some weird tactics to try to stop critics of scientologists... http://theelvesattic.ebloggy.com I used a bunch of your emails, by the way, on my site... and I am going to use them in my show tonight to show what an idiot you people are.... go away frank (whoever you are) and quit trying to play with the thinking boys -- you lose that ability when you turn your thinking over to a cult.
I am famous on Operation Clambake message board, idiot;
OH, SORRY THERE FRANK, HAD NO IDEA YOU WERE FAMOUS.... ON WHAT IS IT.. OPERATION HAMBAKE... THAT MAKES ME LIKE YOU HOW MUCH??? BEING FAMOUS DOES NOT IMPRESS ME, LET ALONE ON A WEBSITE.
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I just noticed this guy has the same name as the character in Magnolia.. now what does that tell you about their affiliation?????
"First of all why is anyone judging a movie based on an actors personal life? Yes, he's weird, but he's one of the few actors who actually make it a point to learn everyone’s name and talk to the crew.
Second of all the movie definitely didn't suck. I find it interesting that you didn't list any reasons why you didn't like it. It's probably because Cruise is a scientologist, and you didn't like the way he acted on Oprah. Let's be quite honest though the real star here was JJ Abrams. He did a fantastic job of making this Mission Impossible his own. He increased the depth of Cruise's character, and made the movie about more than just action."
COMMENT: Note how this person put the movies website in her comment, giving away the jerk who throws meat in her cage.. a l ron bot..
JOHNNY PAIN: Tom Cruise can't buy my opinion -- he's a stupid yokel being a abused by a cult, and his extreme ego can't face that he has wasted his life and money on a stupid fever dream by a less than mediocre, pulp trash writer.
L. RONBOT: : all of you are jealous of his looks, wealth, popularity and the fact that he's boning katie holmes right now
JOHNNY PAIN : I am not jelous or hateful toward other men who are good looking and rich and boning Katy Holmes; he is the victim of a brain washing scheme, and I think this makes people want to say something. Like I always tell my readers, when on the topic of despising religions -- one hates the disease, not the poor person.. . but since Cruise is so rich that he can arrogantly shove his mind-mess on other people, the saner public have begun to resent him, and rightly so. When he ensconsced his new bride in the cult, this young lass from Toledo, Ohio, the world resented his behavior even more... and. . . rightly . . . so....
BRAIN WASHED BAMBOOLEZERS WROTE:
"You're making a joke of yourself , cruise is fine, great artist.
Go away stay, on your blog. Everyone knows since a long time, you're just a kid who learn (the ronbot's mistake, not mine)something and try to impress ppl. LOL try again." THIS CHARACTER HERE USES THE SAME NAME A CRUISE'S CHARACTERI NMAGNOLIA... YET CLAIMS NOT TO BE ASSOCIATED.
JOHNNY PAIN: I am just, as you write, 'a kid who learn something.' Well, I am not trying to impress anyone, little brained one. I don't have to try. And I am 44 years old... grey bearded... I am just an obscure, ****ing writer, one who is educated all to hell, and I can't help it if you think that I am trying to impress you with my attempts to communicate some of the grand and eloquent ideas that I learned in obscure philosophy classes, or whereever (including my fifteen years of cab driving). I also like to write incredibly gross stuff about fools who lead the young and impressionable into CULTS.... Like Tom Cruise, who crossed a line, went from actor to a criminal, when he started making Scientology's brain washing part of his celebrity patter. People like this are the antethesis of what I believe to be the true leaders in our society, and what good is a writer if we don't fight the forces of pseudo-evil in this world???
COMMENT::::They knew about my blog because I mentioned it on the site as a destination for more Cruise bashing... and they thought I was a kid, also indicating they do not know me. This is probably a stock line. You know they are sitting there, looking for comments of any kind that relate to scientology, l ronbots, cruise and travolta and all of their semi-deity's, with a little script to read, like a telemarketer. What I am writing here is all documented quite well by THE RICK ROSS INSTITUTE. Google them up for all the cult news you could ever want.. enough to drive you as crazy as moi... make you want to strike back against these mental predators who take the most precious thing one has, our self; they replace who we were everybit as much as the Invasion Of The Body Snatcher. I have interviewed a lot of ex-cult members, and have a family member who is active in one.. and took numerous classes on the topic. I write these kind of statements not to brag, but because some people like to know the level of credibility that they can grant a writer... people like me.
L. RON BOT: Originally Posted by It.
you are not serious, saying Cruise is a criminal is saying everyone iseveryone beleive everyone make mistake next you're gonna say: "All the Christians are criminals of pedophilia because of the priests At least, Tom is moving his *** for his cause (as much not scientific it is), he cares for kids, see it at the HELP center. Yet If you really care about evil forces, nastiness, and bad people, you would talk about D Miscavige, the scieno *******.But you don't so you have no relevance to me. Just a gossip tabloids sheep.I move on.
JOHNNY PAIN: Please do not put words in my mouth -- especially your illiterate attempts at communication. Tom Cruise is not helping people, he is hurting people. Read up on the deaths due to Scientologists' crazy hatred of medication -- or how L Ron Hubbard, founder of this TOM FOOLERY, had anti-depressents in his system when he died. Various religions throughout time have tried to say don't go to doctors, and this was almost sound advice a couple hundred years ago. Now, people who are not brainwashed, know that they can go to psychiatrists and be treated by the highest experts on the mind that the medical community can produce -- very highly educated individuals.
As far as your extrapolations about my use of the word criminal? Scientologists are scamming people out of money. They promise super powers that no one will ever get. This is why some countries prosecuted them, okay? They are all about selling people packages that actually do little more than brain wash them into wanting more packages. This is criminal to me, and I think they should be prosecuted.
John Revoltya and Tom Smooze suck!!!!
As far as your extrapolations about my use of the word criminal? Scientologists are scamming people out of money. They promise super powers that no one will ever get. This is why some countries prosecuted them, okay? They are all about selling people packages that actually do little more than brain wash them into wanting more packages. This is criminal to me, and I think they should be prosecuted.
Man, dealing with all these deluded pricks really makes me want to do some damage to their illusion.
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
this is a conversation from rotten tomatoes
Quote:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Originally Posted by hunjeebakala
all of you are jealous of his looks, wealth, popularity and the fact that he's boning katie holmes right now.
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06-07-2006, 02:43 PM
Post #11
johnnypain
Seedling
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Joined: May 2006
Location: Chicago, Rogers Park Hood
Posts: 5
I am not jelous or hateful toward other men who are good looking and rich and boning Katy Holmes; he is the victim of a brain washing scheme, and I think this makes people want to say something. Like I always tell my readers, when on the topic of despising religions -- one hates the disease, not the poor person.. . but since Cruise is so rich that he can arrogantly shove his mind-mess on other people, the saner public have begun to resent him, and rightly so. When he ensconsced his new bride in the cult, this young lass from Toledo, Ohio, the world resented his behavior even more... and. . . rightly . . . so....
Last edited by johnnypain on 06-07-2006 at 02:45 PM.
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06-09-2006, 02:25 PM
Post #12
Robbys83
Growing Member
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Joined: Jun 2004
Posts: 176
Quote:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Originally Posted by johnnypain
I am not jelous or hateful toward other men who are good looking and rich and boning Katy Holmes; he is the victim of a brain washing scheme, and I think this makes people want to say something. Like I always tell my readers, when on the topic of despising religions -- one hates the disease, not the poor person.. . but since Cruise is so rich that he can arrogantly shove his mind-mess on other people, the saner public have begun to resent him, and rightly so. When he ensconsced his new bride in the cult, this young lass from Toledo, Ohio, the world resented his behavior even more... and. . . rightly . . . so....
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
HERE HERE!
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06-09-2006, 03:07 PM
Where??? Oh, yea there...
Post #13
johnnypain
Seedling
--------------------------------
Joined: May 2006
Location: Chicago, Rogers Park Hood
Posts: 5
I write a lot of mean things about cults, and cruise, on my blog... should anyone want to see that dead horse get punched a few more times.... http://theelvesattic.ebloggy.com
Quote:
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Originally Posted by Robbys83
HERE HERE!
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Today, 09:52 AM
Post #14
It.
Growing Member
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Joined: Aug 2005
Posts: 192
Quote:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Originally Posted by johnnypain
I write a lot of mean things about cults, and cruise, on my blog... should anyone want to see that dead horse get punched a few more times.... http://theelvesattic.ebloggy.com
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You're making a joke of yourself , cruise is fine, great artist
Go away stay, on your blog. Everyone knows since a long time, you're just a kid who learn something and try to impress ppl. LOL try again
__________________
"I will take, what is mine" - Frank TJ Mackey
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Today, 10:40 AM
'a kid who learn something...' Yeah, right, little brain.
Post #15
johnnypain
Seedling
--------------------------------
Joined: May 2006
Location: Chicago, Rogers Park Hood
Posts: 5
Quote:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Originally Posted by It.
You're making a joke of yourself , cruise is fine, great artist
Go away stay, on your blog. Everyone knows since a long time, you're just a kid who learn something and try to impress ppl. LOL try again
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I am just, as you write, 'a kid who learn something.' Well, I am not trying to impress anyone, little brained one. I don't have to try. And I am 44 years old... grey bearded... I am just an obscure, ****ing writer, one who is educated all to hell, and I can't help it if you think that I am trying to impress you with my attempts to communicate some of the grand and eloquent ideas that I learned in obscure philosophy classes, or whereever (including my fifteen years of cab driving). I also like to write incredibly gross stuff about fools who lead the young and impressionable into CULTS.... Like Tom Cruise, who crossed a line, went from actor to a criminal, when he started making Scientology's brain washing part of his celebrity patter. People like this are the antethesis of what I believe to be the true leaders in our society, and what good is a writer if we don't fight the forces of pseudo-evil in this world???
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Originally Posted by hunjeebakala
all of you are jealous of his looks, wealth, popularity and the fact that he's boning katie holmes right now.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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06-07-2006, 02:43 PM
Post #11
johnnypain
Seedling
--------------------------------
Joined: May 2006
Location: Chicago, Rogers Park Hood
Posts: 5
I am not jelous or hateful toward other men who are good looking and rich and boning Katy Holmes; he is the victim of a brain washing scheme, and I think this makes people want to say something. Like I always tell my readers, when on the topic of despising religions -- one hates the disease, not the poor person.. . but since Cruise is so rich that he can arrogantly shove his mind-mess on other people, the saner public have begun to resent him, and rightly so. When he ensconsced his new bride in the cult, this young lass from Toledo, Ohio, the world resented his behavior even more... and. . . rightly . . . so....
Last edited by johnnypain on 06-07-2006 at 02:45 PM.
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06-09-2006, 02:25 PM
Post #12
Robbys83
Growing Member
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Joined: Jun 2004
Posts: 176
Quote:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Originally Posted by johnnypain
I am not jelous or hateful toward other men who are good looking and rich and boning Katy Holmes; he is the victim of a brain washing scheme, and I think this makes people want to say something. Like I always tell my readers, when on the topic of despising religions -- one hates the disease, not the poor person.. . but since Cruise is so rich that he can arrogantly shove his mind-mess on other people, the saner public have begun to resent him, and rightly so. When he ensconsced his new bride in the cult, this young lass from Toledo, Ohio, the world resented his behavior even more... and. . . rightly . . . so....
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
HERE HERE!
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06-09-2006, 03:07 PM
Where??? Oh, yea there...
Post #13
johnnypain
Seedling
--------------------------------
Joined: May 2006
Location: Chicago, Rogers Park Hood
Posts: 5
I write a lot of mean things about cults, and cruise, on my blog... should anyone want to see that dead horse get punched a few more times.... http://theelvesattic.ebloggy.com
Quote:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Originally Posted by Robbys83
HERE HERE!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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Today, 09:52 AM
Post #14
It.
Growing Member
--------------------------------
Joined: Aug 2005
Posts: 192
Quote:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Originally Posted by johnnypain
I write a lot of mean things about cults, and cruise, on my blog... should anyone want to see that dead horse get punched a few more times.... http://theelvesattic.ebloggy.com
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You're making a joke of yourself , cruise is fine, great artist
Go away stay, on your blog. Everyone knows since a long time, you're just a kid who learn something and try to impress ppl. LOL try again
__________________
"I will take, what is mine" - Frank TJ Mackey
Inappropriate or harrassing post? Report Post | IP: Logged
Today, 10:40 AM
'a kid who learn something...' Yeah, right, little brain.
Post #15
johnnypain
Seedling
--------------------------------
Joined: May 2006
Location: Chicago, Rogers Park Hood
Posts: 5
Quote:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Originally Posted by It.
You're making a joke of yourself , cruise is fine, great artist
Go away stay, on your blog. Everyone knows since a long time, you're just a kid who learn something and try to impress ppl. LOL try again
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I am just, as you write, 'a kid who learn something.' Well, I am not trying to impress anyone, little brained one. I don't have to try. And I am 44 years old... grey bearded... I am just an obscure, ****ing writer, one who is educated all to hell, and I can't help it if you think that I am trying to impress you with my attempts to communicate some of the grand and eloquent ideas that I learned in obscure philosophy classes, or whereever (including my fifteen years of cab driving). I also like to write incredibly gross stuff about fools who lead the young and impressionable into CULTS.... Like Tom Cruise, who crossed a line, went from actor to a criminal, when he started making Scientology's brain washing part of his celebrity patter. People like this are the antethesis of what I believe to be the true leaders in our society, and what good is a writer if we don't fight the forces of pseudo-evil in this world???
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
Thursday, June 15, 2006
I ALSO WRITE ON EBLOGGY A LOT
I usually write everything in my other blog and then transfer the better stuff here. I forget to do this sometimes... but generally I am careful to back everything up... I have not been able to get into that blog today, which is irritatingbecause massah jack off your son is back in the news, and I plan on ripping on him in my show tommorrow. This is going to be my first show in almost a year. The response I am getting is really great. A lot of people are coming, and they are the cool ones... we will definatly come back here afterwards and exchange herbal remedies. I of course have a bit of anxiety about it, but I am also excited.
I was one of those people who kind of liked taking tests in college, because I got keyed up -- they say elevated anxiety,but not too elevated, is the best state of mind to take a test in; luckily that came naturally to me. I have a lot serial killer stuff that I am going to read tommorrow. None of this shit has been read in public and some of it is harsh... picture it as American Psycho meets the Three Stooges in a John Waters movie, and you kind of have what I am going to be reading.
Had a hell of a week on a personal note. My spine, which is all screwed up and needs surgery after surgery just to maintain -- 24/7 pain with no hope of it ever stopping/ drives me into all sorts of crises, but mostly I just stay on the medication they give me and I am fine. Well, they sent my pills to the wrong address, and I ran out... first I just cut myself way down... luckily, I had some valium that I used to take, but I was still curled up on the couch unable to do anything because of the pain. Such a drama this was. After dozens of phone calls and what not, my buddy had to drive me all the way down south to 1`59th and cicero; lucky he knew the area, because I was just plain out lost. They gave me the pills and I swallowed enough to make the pain go away... Jessie rolled a joint as we drove home from the hostpital. I had a few more pills by the time, which I was forced to get at an emergency ward because these are not drugs you just stop taking... so after taking a few more, the ride home became nicer and nicer... Jessie put in Star Wars and we listened to the rising and falling crescendos and just in general grooved on the music.
The day I ran out of the pills and had to just lay in bed all day -- actually this went on for two days, drove me nuts. I could deal with the pain, as long as I didn't do anything to make it worse. And almost anything causes me pain, because my veterbrae are smashed down to about half the normal size on either side of the fused bones. I flirted with the thought of suicide, but I like being alive sometimes and I just plain out would not hurt the people I love that way... but still, sometimes I think, as the pain gets worse and worse (as it is diagnosed to do, because what they do is wait until the last possible moment to fuse the vertebras because I lose movement everytime, so I basically have to suffer through it breaking into shards that hit my nerves until I can no longer bear it). Does this health stuff bore the hell out of you?
Listen, I know I could have it a lot worse. The chronic pain has given me a disability that allows me to write fiction full time, and oil paint. This is what I wanted all those years I sold shit, drove cab, cooked, went to school... I got it like some bargain with the devil where I traded my spine to be a writer.
My new shows start Friday... I can't wait. We are going to party well. Hope you can come...
I went to the hospital, because I had to go to an emergency ward
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
I was one of those people who kind of liked taking tests in college, because I got keyed up -- they say elevated anxiety,but not too elevated, is the best state of mind to take a test in; luckily that came naturally to me. I have a lot serial killer stuff that I am going to read tommorrow. None of this shit has been read in public and some of it is harsh... picture it as American Psycho meets the Three Stooges in a John Waters movie, and you kind of have what I am going to be reading.
Had a hell of a week on a personal note. My spine, which is all screwed up and needs surgery after surgery just to maintain -- 24/7 pain with no hope of it ever stopping/ drives me into all sorts of crises, but mostly I just stay on the medication they give me and I am fine. Well, they sent my pills to the wrong address, and I ran out... first I just cut myself way down... luckily, I had some valium that I used to take, but I was still curled up on the couch unable to do anything because of the pain. Such a drama this was. After dozens of phone calls and what not, my buddy had to drive me all the way down south to 1`59th and cicero; lucky he knew the area, because I was just plain out lost. They gave me the pills and I swallowed enough to make the pain go away... Jessie rolled a joint as we drove home from the hostpital. I had a few more pills by the time, which I was forced to get at an emergency ward because these are not drugs you just stop taking... so after taking a few more, the ride home became nicer and nicer... Jessie put in Star Wars and we listened to the rising and falling crescendos and just in general grooved on the music.
The day I ran out of the pills and had to just lay in bed all day -- actually this went on for two days, drove me nuts. I could deal with the pain, as long as I didn't do anything to make it worse. And almost anything causes me pain, because my veterbrae are smashed down to about half the normal size on either side of the fused bones. I flirted with the thought of suicide, but I like being alive sometimes and I just plain out would not hurt the people I love that way... but still, sometimes I think, as the pain gets worse and worse (as it is diagnosed to do, because what they do is wait until the last possible moment to fuse the vertebras because I lose movement everytime, so I basically have to suffer through it breaking into shards that hit my nerves until I can no longer bear it). Does this health stuff bore the hell out of you?
Listen, I know I could have it a lot worse. The chronic pain has given me a disability that allows me to write fiction full time, and oil paint. This is what I wanted all those years I sold shit, drove cab, cooked, went to school... I got it like some bargain with the devil where I traded my spine to be a writer.
My new shows start Friday... I can't wait. We are going to party well. Hope you can come...
I went to the hospital, because I had to go to an emergency ward
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
from salon... more shit on how massahjackoffyourson tries to molest everything he touches....
Morning Briefing:
Michael Jackson redefines charity: During a deposition for his upcoming trial for the lawsuit brought against him by former associate Marc Schaffel, Michael Jackson revealed that his idea of recording a "charity single" doesn't extend to actually donating the royalties from the song. Paraphrasing from the deposition transcript, Fox 411 reports Jackson as saying: "I don't know songwriters who give their royalties to charity. To give the royalty rights, that's a lot of money to give away." If his 9/11 or Hurricane Katrina singles had ever been released, he would have retained the songwriting credit, just as he did for "We Are the World," for which he still receives royalties. Lest you think his broad definition of charity is actually part of some sort of savvy plan on Jackson's part, the gossip site also notes that during the trial, "according to accounts, he didn't know the meaning of the word 'savvy,' and asked to have it rephrased during questioning." (Fox 411
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
Michael Jackson redefines charity: During a deposition for his upcoming trial for the lawsuit brought against him by former associate Marc Schaffel, Michael Jackson revealed that his idea of recording a "charity single" doesn't extend to actually donating the royalties from the song. Paraphrasing from the deposition transcript, Fox 411 reports Jackson as saying: "I don't know songwriters who give their royalties to charity. To give the royalty rights, that's a lot of money to give away." If his 9/11 or Hurricane Katrina singles had ever been released, he would have retained the songwriting credit, just as he did for "We Are the World," for which he still receives royalties. Lest you think his broad definition of charity is actually part of some sort of savvy plan on Jackson's part, the gossip site also notes that during the trial, "according to accounts, he didn't know the meaning of the word 'savvy,' and asked to have it rephrased during questioning." (Fox 411
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Friday, June 09, 2006
THE LAOTIAN TERD MOUSE
Of course we all remember this little nursery rhyme from when we were children:
"Mother says that if you're bad,
a Laotian Terd Mouse will eat your nads,
and while I never thought this was true
I was bad once and now I am blue."
For some reason I found myself humming this thing this morning and now cannot get it out of my head. I've tried squirting battery acid in my ear with a turkey baster, which seemed to be working until the baster melted. I don't know what else to do, beyond maybe breaking into the neighbors apartment and stealing some of her panties to wear???
I have been practically bowled over by questions about the elusive Laotian Terd Mouse. This is natural, since I am one of the few Big Game Hunters who have tried to kill and mount a Laotian Terd Mouse. By mount, I mean on a plaque on the wall, but of course as in the traditional Laotian Terd Mouse Hunt, I will also employ other uses of 'mounting' after a successful kill.
My detractors are already claiming that I am making up the Laotian Terd Mouse, like M., who won't listen anymore when I tell her all the shit these Laotian Terd Mice are pulling around the apt. -- and you can just guess who got the shit when M. found their stack of vegetable related pornography.
You must be wondering how they could be so all powerful to get through the defenses here in the Elf's Attic? I mean, we have a cat and a husky who will eat any rodent they can, with a special emphasis on my military hamster endeavors, unfortunatly for all good people of this earth... but none-the-less, they cannot seem to keep these Laotian Terd Mice out of the apartment.
You got to be pretty tough to deal with these Mice. I am not sure that I am up to it.... if only the Hamster Army was back up to snuff after that week when I decided to save money on pet food.... I can only hope, for the sake of this whole damned world, that I can fight them off before their nefarious Laotian Terd Mouse Conspiracy can enslave us all in god-riddled cheese factories. I've heard that they are already hiring hollywood stars to get recruits for the cults that they'll use to vote their way to the top of the world's democracies... it's enough to drive good men out into the fields with their guns....
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
"Mother says that if you're bad,
a Laotian Terd Mouse will eat your nads,
and while I never thought this was true
I was bad once and now I am blue."
For some reason I found myself humming this thing this morning and now cannot get it out of my head. I've tried squirting battery acid in my ear with a turkey baster, which seemed to be working until the baster melted. I don't know what else to do, beyond maybe breaking into the neighbors apartment and stealing some of her panties to wear???
I have been practically bowled over by questions about the elusive Laotian Terd Mouse. This is natural, since I am one of the few Big Game Hunters who have tried to kill and mount a Laotian Terd Mouse. By mount, I mean on a plaque on the wall, but of course as in the traditional Laotian Terd Mouse Hunt, I will also employ other uses of 'mounting' after a successful kill.
My detractors are already claiming that I am making up the Laotian Terd Mouse, like M., who won't listen anymore when I tell her all the shit these Laotian Terd Mice are pulling around the apt. -- and you can just guess who got the shit when M. found their stack of vegetable related pornography.
You must be wondering how they could be so all powerful to get through the defenses here in the Elf's Attic? I mean, we have a cat and a husky who will eat any rodent they can, with a special emphasis on my military hamster endeavors, unfortunatly for all good people of this earth... but none-the-less, they cannot seem to keep these Laotian Terd Mice out of the apartment.
You got to be pretty tough to deal with these Mice. I am not sure that I am up to it.... if only the Hamster Army was back up to snuff after that week when I decided to save money on pet food.... I can only hope, for the sake of this whole damned world, that I can fight them off before their nefarious Laotian Terd Mouse Conspiracy can enslave us all in god-riddled cheese factories. I've heard that they are already hiring hollywood stars to get recruits for the cults that they'll use to vote their way to the top of the world's democracies... it's enough to drive good men out into the fields with their guns....
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
WOMAN HITS BREEDER WITH DEAD CHIHUAHUA!!!
--A DEADLY WEAPON??? YES, I SEE IT NOW....
The pup was this tiny!!! Yet, what a weapon!!! I want a dead chihuahua!! I will not feel safe until I am armed with a dead chihuahua!!!!
From The Associated Press: ST. PETERS, Mo. -- A woman angry that her new puppy had died pushed her way into a dog breeder's home and repeatedly hit her on the head with the dead Chihuahua, authorities said.
The 33-year-old woman told police she had taken the puppy to a veterinarian, who said it was only 4 weeks old and needed to be returned to its mother. But before she could return the puppy, it died.
Early Wednesday, the woman went to the breeder's home, pushed her way inside and began fighting with the breeder as she tried to make her way to the basement to get another puppy, police said.
The breeder wrestled the woman out of her house to the front porch, where the woman then hit the breeder over the head numerous times with the dead puppy, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch reported, citing police.
As the woman drove away, she waved the dead puppy out of the car's sunroof and yelled threats at the breeder, police said. She later called the breeder and threatened her and her family, according to court records.
Police said they are considering felony burglary charges and misdemeanor assault charges.
WHAT DID THIS WOMAN THREATEN THE BREEDER WITH??? ASSAULT WITH A DEAD KITTEN, MAYBE???
Who cares about the dog breeder, I want justice for that poor little puppy!!! I am probably going to have to take a train down south and take out everyone associated with this story. Before I can go, I have to clean the christian off my knives... it's always something, isn't it?
--------------
Just want to add, after walking the dog down to a cold, windswept shores of Lake Mitch., that there is a country song in this story... Maybe even a novel? Perhaps an encyclopedia? But that is not for the here and now... no, a country song suits my wake and bake (point of fact, songs just pop into my head a lot, and I used to write them down, but they were invariably a sort of bad, rhyming poetry)...
so the song goes...
"SHE HIT ME WITH A DEAD CHEW-WOW-WOW
KNOCKED THE GLASS FROM MY HAND
TOOK A TRAIN TO MEMPHIS
AND MARRIED A GUY NAMED STAN"
I'm not going to write all of it down... suffice to say, from here the song just goes on to tell a brilliant, gritty story of good and evil, peace and war, cat and mouse, dog and squash... that builds to an exicting crescendo unmatched in popular music today.
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
The pup was this tiny!!! Yet, what a weapon!!! I want a dead chihuahua!! I will not feel safe until I am armed with a dead chihuahua!!!!
From The Associated Press: ST. PETERS, Mo. -- A woman angry that her new puppy had died pushed her way into a dog breeder's home and repeatedly hit her on the head with the dead Chihuahua, authorities said.
The 33-year-old woman told police she had taken the puppy to a veterinarian, who said it was only 4 weeks old and needed to be returned to its mother. But before she could return the puppy, it died.
Early Wednesday, the woman went to the breeder's home, pushed her way inside and began fighting with the breeder as she tried to make her way to the basement to get another puppy, police said.
The breeder wrestled the woman out of her house to the front porch, where the woman then hit the breeder over the head numerous times with the dead puppy, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch reported, citing police.
As the woman drove away, she waved the dead puppy out of the car's sunroof and yelled threats at the breeder, police said. She later called the breeder and threatened her and her family, according to court records.
Police said they are considering felony burglary charges and misdemeanor assault charges.
WHAT DID THIS WOMAN THREATEN THE BREEDER WITH??? ASSAULT WITH A DEAD KITTEN, MAYBE???
Who cares about the dog breeder, I want justice for that poor little puppy!!! I am probably going to have to take a train down south and take out everyone associated with this story. Before I can go, I have to clean the christian off my knives... it's always something, isn't it?
--------------
Just want to add, after walking the dog down to a cold, windswept shores of Lake Mitch., that there is a country song in this story... Maybe even a novel? Perhaps an encyclopedia? But that is not for the here and now... no, a country song suits my wake and bake (point of fact, songs just pop into my head a lot, and I used to write them down, but they were invariably a sort of bad, rhyming poetry)...
so the song goes...
"SHE HIT ME WITH A DEAD CHEW-WOW-WOW
KNOCKED THE GLASS FROM MY HAND
TOOK A TRAIN TO MEMPHIS
AND MARRIED A GUY NAMED STAN"
I'm not going to write all of it down... suffice to say, from here the song just goes on to tell a brilliant, gritty story of good and evil, peace and war, cat and mouse, dog and squash... that builds to an exicting crescendo unmatched in popular music today.
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
OKAY, SINCE YOU DIDN'T ASK...
How, you wonder, is Johnny Pain going to try to advance his writing career this year?
This puzzles me too. One of the few writers I know and respect, has given up the trade to start an arts center, after trying for ten years and writing a bunch of basically unedited books... he gained a huge audience, but not the kind of money that it takes to have a decent life. He used to go for days without eating to keep up his work and habits... I have sacrificed everything to be an artist, myself. I have offered up my life to this stupid altar time and again... and all my prayers have fallen on basically stone deaf ears.
When I was younger, and prone toward the kind of mystical thinking that got me in so much trouble in so many ways, I expected wealth and fortune to be delivered like a fucking pizzas. If it were that easy, a hundred thousand better writers than me would all be famous, instead of frustratedly making their way through their work day wondering just when all the meaning seeped out of their lives...
People make decisions based on the market, when they would be much better off making their decisions from their hearts. Problem is, their heart lies to them so much that they don't trust the 'drunken chimp' part of their psych. I made this decision to be a writer purely from my heart. Deep inside of me was a feeling, imbedded by a childhood steeped in books (I finished the grammar school library in fifth grade, so they let me into the high school library and man was that the shits to me, back then...), that there was something magical about the people who write down words. They seemed like the prophets to me. Especially since I lived in a deep shadow of the sixties philosophies of rebellion.
The sixties decimation of all that came before, personified in a distrust of all authority, brought me up basically believing in nothing. Government was something that had wars and took out taxes. Religion was a joke.
I needed some words to live by. You don't have words to live by, you die; you just lay in that bed, trapped by the very molecules in the room, still and quiet, deathly afraid of making a move that might be your last... I remembered this, this morning, watching Angel, my all time favorite show ever, and Angel gets this ring that lets him walk in daylight... he comes out from under a pier, into the first sunshine he has felt in over a hundred years... the acting is excellent. David Boreanz shows such joy and revelation and peace in the simple. Sunshine is enough for him. Struck me how good this scene made me feel, how for a moment I was apreciating sunlight... like Warhol showing the world soup cans that testify to the beauty of the everyday. THen it came to me that this is the kind of moment that I need to stock in my mind, to pull out when I need a burst of faith.
Faith. I don't like the word. Wreaks of pipe dreams and jim jones. Still, we need it. There are too many germs in this room for me not to take on faith that I can survive them. But I have to make the movements that set the ball rolling, cause the momentum to make my career meaningful in some way, to someone.
To do any of this, I have to get more books out... and this is driving me crazy!!! The blog feels so natural to me that I feel uniquely suited to be a hit in this medium; and I have had way over a hundred thousand hits, which is good enough for me, and it is always growing.
So maybe this medium will end up being the primary repository of what people settle on as my 'best work.' Certainly I am not going to be remember for my play, tv shit, poetry... but, this thing will last, and books will last. Why is this important? The ideas I studied in college have to be confronted by the voting masses, sooner or later, or we are going to find religous faith is no match for the greenhouse effect.
Religion, and taking leaps of faith to a state of mind where all is right under the eye of god (which is the psychic pay off of prayer, often enough, because it feels 'right'), leads to mystical thinking in all aspects of ones life, just as a scientific education changes ones thinking on all aspects of life.
People are brainwashed by their parents, the tv, movies... everywhere they pretend there is a god. Everywhere they are told to put their faith in a made up character???? We read comic books for this when we are kids, to see good and evil all black and white and free of the ambiguities that come with the adult perspective on life.... the people who are doing this to others are my enemies. Period. They would shoot me down for all sorts of things I have done and I have no time for their stupidity. That is why the words are important.... I want the world to be a better place if for no other reason than to keep the other animals alive.
So, I was trying to get to my next big move... which is going to be little movies and comics. We are getting a video camera of some sort at the end of the month. I have made dozens of little films, and have a pretty good idea of how things come off on camera... lots of characters I can play, tons of voices, and a lot of unmined comedy material from this blog. The first one we are going to do will involve hamster armies, and I do have some pretty cool mechanical hamsters (ever since I wrote about them, they have become my 'official animal' to M., who will use any excuse to buy a toy). I am actually going to tell the whole johnny pain tale, taken from the blog totally.
There is also an entry in here where I pretend like I am being interviewed. I am going to do some stuff with this. I also like reading my stories while showing different works of art that add and shade the meaning of the story. I made a few cool ones in the past but have since lost them all. I never had any way to show this shit to people, and thus never really developed the work into the kind of professional shit it would take for me to invest my time. Now, the web is about to change all that.
I am going to be using puppets, myself, the neighborhood dogs, and my cat as the primary characters. We'll kill and interact and start fires and just generally cause mayhem as we try to protect the apartment from The Laotian Terd Mouse Conspiracy, or some such thing...
Then there comes the play... I have been wanting to do something with this -- which is where the penguin prose in here about them spinning in circles screaming, Oh the shits with you!! is from. THere are all these video sequences that I wrote for the play that were too complex for me to just hand it off to some small playhouse and expect them to be interested... however, I wrote the video as shit I could easily shoot with a few stuffed animals and shots at the Lincoln Park Zoo. I only need like five actors for the play. There is basically nothing needed on stage beyond a table and a tv. I was careful to keep the production to a minumum, to aide the damn thing in getting done.
Of course the other thing, however minor, are the literary readings I am going to start next week. I am calling the thing this and that to get various types of acts to come in for my amusement, but in my mind it is just going to be a reading.
I designed the poster this week -- it has some pretty funny cartoons on it.
Animation is another direction I would love to go in, of course... my over the top shit kind of suits itself to cartoons, and god knows I watch all of them -- especially family guy, invader zim, and king of the hill.
So what will I do???? Probably just keep sniveling in here until I die, like the guy in Henry James The Beast In The Jungle, knowing I missed too much because of my obsession???? That is up to you, I guess... though more to me.
So what should I do cruel world? Is my contribution here on this blog nothing or something? Don't answer that.
The other videos I am planning on doing are more low key, just shots of the readings, intercut with other images to make the visuals more appealing... watching people read usually sucks, and when it doesn't it has more to do with the acting than the words half the time.
I could really use a couple ambitious cinematography types to help me with this shit. I get some money, and a production company is going to fly out of my fingers. If I could hire a few people, I could teach them a thing or two about writing and directing and improv, though I would hardly consider this a position that is going to lead to fame and riches... though I would certainly share in any wealth that comes along. These videos are going to be shown all over the world, to hundreds of thousands of people. Small films usually don't get the kind of exposure this blog already has. The thing to do is parlay whatever interest the market -- you people -- have in me into channels that actually make me a few bucks. Like getting a book published, or selling movie rights...
Oh, well.... l have to go to a state office today and try to muddle my way through some paperwork concerning my disability, which I loath doing, and have thus sat here jabbering away all this time with this little nervous troll on the edge of my thinking.... he is commanding me to leave now...
Have a day.
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
This puzzles me too. One of the few writers I know and respect, has given up the trade to start an arts center, after trying for ten years and writing a bunch of basically unedited books... he gained a huge audience, but not the kind of money that it takes to have a decent life. He used to go for days without eating to keep up his work and habits... I have sacrificed everything to be an artist, myself. I have offered up my life to this stupid altar time and again... and all my prayers have fallen on basically stone deaf ears.
When I was younger, and prone toward the kind of mystical thinking that got me in so much trouble in so many ways, I expected wealth and fortune to be delivered like a fucking pizzas. If it were that easy, a hundred thousand better writers than me would all be famous, instead of frustratedly making their way through their work day wondering just when all the meaning seeped out of their lives...
People make decisions based on the market, when they would be much better off making their decisions from their hearts. Problem is, their heart lies to them so much that they don't trust the 'drunken chimp' part of their psych. I made this decision to be a writer purely from my heart. Deep inside of me was a feeling, imbedded by a childhood steeped in books (I finished the grammar school library in fifth grade, so they let me into the high school library and man was that the shits to me, back then...), that there was something magical about the people who write down words. They seemed like the prophets to me. Especially since I lived in a deep shadow of the sixties philosophies of rebellion.
The sixties decimation of all that came before, personified in a distrust of all authority, brought me up basically believing in nothing. Government was something that had wars and took out taxes. Religion was a joke.
I needed some words to live by. You don't have words to live by, you die; you just lay in that bed, trapped by the very molecules in the room, still and quiet, deathly afraid of making a move that might be your last... I remembered this, this morning, watching Angel, my all time favorite show ever, and Angel gets this ring that lets him walk in daylight... he comes out from under a pier, into the first sunshine he has felt in over a hundred years... the acting is excellent. David Boreanz shows such joy and revelation and peace in the simple. Sunshine is enough for him. Struck me how good this scene made me feel, how for a moment I was apreciating sunlight... like Warhol showing the world soup cans that testify to the beauty of the everyday. THen it came to me that this is the kind of moment that I need to stock in my mind, to pull out when I need a burst of faith.
Faith. I don't like the word. Wreaks of pipe dreams and jim jones. Still, we need it. There are too many germs in this room for me not to take on faith that I can survive them. But I have to make the movements that set the ball rolling, cause the momentum to make my career meaningful in some way, to someone.
To do any of this, I have to get more books out... and this is driving me crazy!!! The blog feels so natural to me that I feel uniquely suited to be a hit in this medium; and I have had way over a hundred thousand hits, which is good enough for me, and it is always growing.
So maybe this medium will end up being the primary repository of what people settle on as my 'best work.' Certainly I am not going to be remember for my play, tv shit, poetry... but, this thing will last, and books will last. Why is this important? The ideas I studied in college have to be confronted by the voting masses, sooner or later, or we are going to find religous faith is no match for the greenhouse effect.
Religion, and taking leaps of faith to a state of mind where all is right under the eye of god (which is the psychic pay off of prayer, often enough, because it feels 'right'), leads to mystical thinking in all aspects of ones life, just as a scientific education changes ones thinking on all aspects of life.
People are brainwashed by their parents, the tv, movies... everywhere they pretend there is a god. Everywhere they are told to put their faith in a made up character???? We read comic books for this when we are kids, to see good and evil all black and white and free of the ambiguities that come with the adult perspective on life.... the people who are doing this to others are my enemies. Period. They would shoot me down for all sorts of things I have done and I have no time for their stupidity. That is why the words are important.... I want the world to be a better place if for no other reason than to keep the other animals alive.
So, I was trying to get to my next big move... which is going to be little movies and comics. We are getting a video camera of some sort at the end of the month. I have made dozens of little films, and have a pretty good idea of how things come off on camera... lots of characters I can play, tons of voices, and a lot of unmined comedy material from this blog. The first one we are going to do will involve hamster armies, and I do have some pretty cool mechanical hamsters (ever since I wrote about them, they have become my 'official animal' to M., who will use any excuse to buy a toy). I am actually going to tell the whole johnny pain tale, taken from the blog totally.
There is also an entry in here where I pretend like I am being interviewed. I am going to do some stuff with this. I also like reading my stories while showing different works of art that add and shade the meaning of the story. I made a few cool ones in the past but have since lost them all. I never had any way to show this shit to people, and thus never really developed the work into the kind of professional shit it would take for me to invest my time. Now, the web is about to change all that.
I am going to be using puppets, myself, the neighborhood dogs, and my cat as the primary characters. We'll kill and interact and start fires and just generally cause mayhem as we try to protect the apartment from The Laotian Terd Mouse Conspiracy, or some such thing...
Then there comes the play... I have been wanting to do something with this -- which is where the penguin prose in here about them spinning in circles screaming, Oh the shits with you!! is from. THere are all these video sequences that I wrote for the play that were too complex for me to just hand it off to some small playhouse and expect them to be interested... however, I wrote the video as shit I could easily shoot with a few stuffed animals and shots at the Lincoln Park Zoo. I only need like five actors for the play. There is basically nothing needed on stage beyond a table and a tv. I was careful to keep the production to a minumum, to aide the damn thing in getting done.
Of course the other thing, however minor, are the literary readings I am going to start next week. I am calling the thing this and that to get various types of acts to come in for my amusement, but in my mind it is just going to be a reading.
I designed the poster this week -- it has some pretty funny cartoons on it.
Animation is another direction I would love to go in, of course... my over the top shit kind of suits itself to cartoons, and god knows I watch all of them -- especially family guy, invader zim, and king of the hill.
So what will I do???? Probably just keep sniveling in here until I die, like the guy in Henry James The Beast In The Jungle, knowing I missed too much because of my obsession???? That is up to you, I guess... though more to me.
So what should I do cruel world? Is my contribution here on this blog nothing or something? Don't answer that.
The other videos I am planning on doing are more low key, just shots of the readings, intercut with other images to make the visuals more appealing... watching people read usually sucks, and when it doesn't it has more to do with the acting than the words half the time.
I could really use a couple ambitious cinematography types to help me with this shit. I get some money, and a production company is going to fly out of my fingers. If I could hire a few people, I could teach them a thing or two about writing and directing and improv, though I would hardly consider this a position that is going to lead to fame and riches... though I would certainly share in any wealth that comes along. These videos are going to be shown all over the world, to hundreds of thousands of people. Small films usually don't get the kind of exposure this blog already has. The thing to do is parlay whatever interest the market -- you people -- have in me into channels that actually make me a few bucks. Like getting a book published, or selling movie rights...
Oh, well.... l have to go to a state office today and try to muddle my way through some paperwork concerning my disability, which I loath doing, and have thus sat here jabbering away all this time with this little nervous troll on the edge of my thinking.... he is commanding me to leave now...
Have a day.
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
GOING DOOR TO DOOR FOR ATHEISM!!!
Today, bored and kind of coffee-d up, I decided to start going door to door around the neighborhood spreading the word of Atheism... (I was ready to consider even a staunce agnosticism in a pinch, at least when I was dealing with the weak and fearful).
I put together a little pamplet, titled, CONVERT NOW OR DIE. I figured this would get people's attention, as well as make clear why I was so heavily armed. Put on a suit coat and a black t shirt reading I FUCKED YOUR GRANDMOTHERS ASS AND USED HER DIARREAH FOR LUBRICANT, some sloppy loose jeans that would allow for deadly use of my flying feet, and went out to save a little bit of the world.
The first apartments I went to were my neighbors, since I had glimpsed a cross in their kitchen one day and knew they needed some help. "Hello???" I screamed at their door as I knocked loud and hard, rapping like a cop, "get your jew-on-a-stick religion out here where I can stomp on that shit."
They wouldn't answer the door. I found this odd, but then it seemed to happen over and over. I think people were looking through their peep hole and seeing my guns. I hide them better at the next apartment, and sure enough, someone opens the door with their chain on, pushing her nose out, an elderly woman asks me, "What do you want?"
"Mam, do you know god?"
"No, why does he owe you money?" Her answer comes quick and is followed by a smirk.
"NO, no... I'm here to kill the gods, actually. Any of them. You have one in there?"
"What? With my fixed income, you think I could afford to keep a god in here? The food bill alone would wipe out my stamps."
I thanked the woman and continued on... throughout the rest of the day, I found a few more christians. All were quick to repent once I had the barrel of an M-!6 jammed up their asses. Got to clean that gun tonight.
Anyways, I am going to try to go to everyone's house in the whole world over the course of the next few years, until I am sure that everyone has heard the non-word.
Will I succeed? No, no... but at least I will be able to look myself in the eye and know I tried. Though M. thinks that just because I 'tried' to do something, that I have actually done nothing. We had a big fight about this, after she asked me about the garbage and I told her that I have been trying to get myself to take out the garbage, and how that effort alone had tired me out too much to get to the other parts of the task. Somehow, no matter how well I explained this to M., she kept saying shit like, "You mean you did nothing, right?"
SO JUST KNOW, NEXT TIME SOMEONE ASKS YOU IF YOU KNOW GOD . . . that they just might be heavily armed atheists and your answer could well determine whether or not you are going to get a shotgun enema!!!!!
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
I put together a little pamplet, titled, CONVERT NOW OR DIE. I figured this would get people's attention, as well as make clear why I was so heavily armed. Put on a suit coat and a black t shirt reading I FUCKED YOUR GRANDMOTHERS ASS AND USED HER DIARREAH FOR LUBRICANT, some sloppy loose jeans that would allow for deadly use of my flying feet, and went out to save a little bit of the world.
The first apartments I went to were my neighbors, since I had glimpsed a cross in their kitchen one day and knew they needed some help. "Hello???" I screamed at their door as I knocked loud and hard, rapping like a cop, "get your jew-on-a-stick religion out here where I can stomp on that shit."
They wouldn't answer the door. I found this odd, but then it seemed to happen over and over. I think people were looking through their peep hole and seeing my guns. I hide them better at the next apartment, and sure enough, someone opens the door with their chain on, pushing her nose out, an elderly woman asks me, "What do you want?"
"Mam, do you know god?"
"No, why does he owe you money?" Her answer comes quick and is followed by a smirk.
"NO, no... I'm here to kill the gods, actually. Any of them. You have one in there?"
"What? With my fixed income, you think I could afford to keep a god in here? The food bill alone would wipe out my stamps."
I thanked the woman and continued on... throughout the rest of the day, I found a few more christians. All were quick to repent once I had the barrel of an M-!6 jammed up their asses. Got to clean that gun tonight.
Anyways, I am going to try to go to everyone's house in the whole world over the course of the next few years, until I am sure that everyone has heard the non-word.
Will I succeed? No, no... but at least I will be able to look myself in the eye and know I tried. Though M. thinks that just because I 'tried' to do something, that I have actually done nothing. We had a big fight about this, after she asked me about the garbage and I told her that I have been trying to get myself to take out the garbage, and how that effort alone had tired me out too much to get to the other parts of the task. Somehow, no matter how well I explained this to M., she kept saying shit like, "You mean you did nothing, right?"
SO JUST KNOW, NEXT TIME SOMEONE ASKS YOU IF YOU KNOW GOD . . . that they just might be heavily armed atheists and your answer could well determine whether or not you are going to get a shotgun enema!!!!!
copywrite 2006 john scott ridgway
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