Welcome to the mind of John Scott Ridgway. Beware falling rocks and angels.

YOU ARE ABOUT TO ENTER WHAT THE INTELLIGENCE COMMUNITY CALLS THE 'WITTING.' The implication being anyone who doesn't know what is truly going on in the world is 'unwitting.' I have an academic/artist background that includes three books, oil painting, radio and tv... though mostly, I write on the web and give the words away. Better read than dead, I always say. I studyied military intelligence, cults, english, history, and philosophy, among other subjects that I took in my quest to have something to say in my work.... I am proud to say I studied under peaceful warriors, like Dr. Danial Stern, an icon in the sixties who hung out with the panthers, dealt with agent provocaters, spies.


Find me on facebook at john scott ridgway... there are two of me... one is active. I trust you can figure it out. Doing a lot of stuff there. Basically showing my daily trek throughout the dozens of papers I peruse while waiting in some bush, pr parked somewhere, you know, out stalking, or whatever, you know... hunting humans, maybe... but not in an illegal way. Really.

I urge you to try out my new Jesus, blog, too. He is nothing like you have read before. This creature from the planet Heaven is mistaken for an alien, a cult leader, a terrorist.... Military intelligence agents and secrets are thrown all over in this blog.... please spread my writing whereever forfree... The book is not just for Christians. I am almost an agnostic... I, Christ... will lead you to heaven, or at least give you a lot to think about. After years of getting mostly a's in college, I can at least parrot a few things you have not heard.

Saturday, April 05, 2008

rabbi's trailer park emporium great meth war

Rabby's Trailer Park Emporium's Great Meth Wars

Me and Boner and Shappy been up three days smoking our new batch of meth--this White Trash turned out prettty damn good. Our eyes are bulging out of our head's so much that Shappy actually had one pop out. We had a hell of time getting it back in. He bled a lot, too. Passed out at some point. I guess that's a good sign. Like I told Boner, "You sleep off a hang-over, so why the hell not bleeding too much?"

Yea, this White Trash is great... well, except for smelling like Boner's shit. That's 'cause we thought we were going to sell some to this kid down at the 7-11 on fourth street, Gerald The Battery Boy, a a twelve year old who steals car batteries to support his habit -- that's one industrious kid, and I am keeping my eye on him because he could prove to be a potential rivalry who I will have to run out of the trailer park, like I did his older sister, when she tried to bring in her own crank from those high-falutin Woodcocks on the southside of the park -- all those southsiders think that they're better than us just because they're on that side of Merrywinkle Unicorn Lane. I say, hell no, we all got the meth-mouths and live in a trailer park.

At least in public... inside, I know them southsiders are just so smart and all Game Show sophisticated -- how the hell am I supposed to compete with that? Sometimes when I am around them, I wish my parents had all educated me by putting on Wheel Of Fortune and them 'hard' game shows that require guessing at the size of different words-- who the hell can tell one size of word from the other, I say... but then, I wasn't raised watching 100,000 question, was I mom? This is one of the reason the social worker used to say I was using meth as an eight year old. Hell, sometimes on meth I feel like I could get everything perfect on the Price Is Right (which requires years and years of price checking, and then getting called ... which is why all the older price checkers at Kmart go there on vacations, which they can afford every ten or so years, depending on saving habits!!

Sometimes I remember that social worker coming in and looking at the tv and asking my mom and dad why they never put on something educational, like Hollywood Squares? They were both a little embarrassed to be raising us on Jerry that day. This was the only time I ever saw my daddy squirm, and it made an impact on me... sure, it hurt. Dad just waited until the social worker was gone and then told us she was 'putting on airs,' that we could go to her house right at that very moment and find her watching Jerry because 'nobody, in their hearts, can resist that show.' At the time I believe him.

I seem to have gotten off the topic again. Meth could possibly be adding to this, like Boner thinks, but I doubt it. He is filled with strange notions ever since being forced to watch Ophra, back last year when he was in jail and ended up some intellectual black guys bitch. I wish the hell he would take that guys picture down from the living room wall... keeps giving me an uncomfortable feeling way up in my but.

NOw, I guess I was about to explain why our new batch of White Trash meth smells like Boner's shit -- which is generally known around these parts to be surprisingly different than the smell of his ass.

Well, getting from our territory to the 7-11 is mighty tricky, of course. Any time we go out of our territory, we put ourselves in extreme danger of getting attacked by rival meth gangs, not to mention the Waterloo, Indiana Police Department. They won't actually come in the trailer park anymore. They claim it's cause of the smell and that they just don't plain give a shit about the people who live here. ... but when we leave, they are all over us the second we venture out of Shappy's Trailer Park Emporium.. And when you got the meth mouth, there ain't no hiding it from the cops. No matter how many times you tell 'em you just got out of treatment and are working a program now, they will search ya. Hell, most of them know our names by now.

So I figured I'd just use some of the education I got in the big house. Got Boner to stick a bunch of little bags of meth up his but. Keistering is we call it when we're in jail. Hell, when I was in Marion, I kept a contraband turkey up in my hershey hole for three days while it thawed enough for me to cook it up on my hot plate.

We figured we could go down to the alley back of the 7-11, and just let them cops search us. That way, they'd think we were clean and leave us alone.

Of course, two pigs came up to us the second we left the trailer park and threw us against their cars and searched us. One of em says, "Even these three aren't stupid enough to leave with meth. They can learn. Hmp."

Bastard. I told him that I read tv guide just for the articles, but he didn't seem to believe me.

After they left, the customers began slinking up. Once we had their cash, Boner would grunt and strain until he farted out a bag or two.

The idea, as you can tell, was perfect.


the elves attic

Rabby's Trailer Park Emporium's Great Meth Wars
by jsr

3:57 PM
This is part twoo....

There was a problem though... the Woodcocks were across the street in
their usual spot, trying to horn in on our business. Them Woodcocks are
an inbred tribe from the hotey-totey, stuck up south-side of the trailer
park. They think they're all fancy 'cause they got cousins to marry and
such, which keeps all the cars in the same family. We sure as hell wish
we had cousins, but after that lab we were running during the Anual
SKeeter Reunion And Pig Fucking blew all up... shot the house like twenty
feet into the air and killed all our relatives, including our most
favorite slutty cousins and a pig I had had my eye on for years...

Them Woodcocks send their eight and nine year olds out to do the delivery.
Marge the Momma told me she does it that way for two reasons-- said
when the kids were in jail was about the only time they got to schooling,
and of course being minors they usually got off with nothing little
sentences that the Woodcocks prided themselves in being able to handle
standing on their heads.

Anways... so people had a choice between our bags, which Boner was wet
farting out and they were kind of dripping brown stuff during the hand
off, or the Woodcocks nice clean bags. Well, at first... I have to say,
there for awhile, I thought we were in some real trouble. But then this
trucker come up, and when he got a bag of our stuff, he got on the CB and
started bragging on how he was doing some meth that smelled like a White
Ass. Next thing we knew, perverts from adult bookstores for miles around
and truck stops all over this side of the county were pulling up behind
the 7-11 asking for some White Ass.

Them Hoity-toity Woodcocks were fuming like a vat of grain alcohol filled
with decongestants!!

We were so happy with the results that we had Boner keister the money on
the way home, only he didn't have no more bags and the money got all
shitty . I guess it kind of looked like a brown dye pack had went off on
the money, like from a robbery, and when we tried to spend it on a bunch
of cough syryup and decongestants and such the Guy at the Jewels called
the cops on us.

The cops could tell it wasn't a dye pack, but they didn't want to come
close to the money. Told us were going to go out back and burn every bit
of it, or we were going to jail for doing perverted shit with money. I
tried to tell him that we did not put the money up our anuses for
satisfaction. Duder was having none of it. Got all pissed off and was
waving his baton around as he screamed, "Hey, when I get to putting money
up my ass, I burn it afterwards, because I live in a goddamn society!!!"
Then he proceeded to beat Boner, which turned him on... the big old woody
shoving out of his pants seemed to make the cop hit him harder, and
harder... Then those two knuckleheads made a date at some porta-potty
behind the Kroger's Market.

The world is such a messed up place. Sometimes i think we are the only
sane people in an insane world, man. I mean, if people would just let us
be, the world would be perfect. Well, except for meth-mouth, lack of
cousins, and the Boner-butt smell of this meth.

Boners' White Ass Meth Enemas!!
by jsr

6:37 PM

Carl came up with a solution to the problem of the fifteen foot tall Jesus mud balls and Boner's gay trucker religion. I'll tell ya, when Boner took that kitten and dipped it in a chemical vat and held it over them flames and used that eye dropper and meth and Crisco and all the other shit to turn Carl into some Super Gay Cat, I thought he was crazy. But he told me he learned the recipe from the most twisted prisoner that he ever bitched, and sure enough...

Carl told me and Shappy, "We have to offer him some way of getting his but attention. Right now, he's in butthole heaven. He won't give that up easy."

Carl then kind of fluttered about the room in that swishy way of his as he added, "Well, he does love his enemas... we could put the white ass in enemas and put Boner in charge of production! To get the smell that we all love so much, Boner could dip each of the enema's in his White Ass smell. We'll poke each and every one up his but before we sell it. That way, he would be selling his but juices. You know he's always dreamed of finding a way to market his sweet, sweet but juices."

And that's true, Boner's dream has always been to market his but juices. Or his 'sweet, sweet but juices,' as he always called them. I just thought that was crazy. Same as I did when Boner said he was going to make himself a Super Gay Cat that can talk.

Carl went out back, weaving between the half-naked truckers, their sagging white beer bellies and matted chest hair and flabby titties showing sadly through their tightlty stretched white tube tops... They were all involved in some kind of Daisy Chain that I tried not to look at.

Carl had in his mouth a big old red enema filled with White Ass and Crisco and Water, snuck up beside where Boner's fat ass was hanging off one of them big mud balls, shoved that red nozzle up deep into boner and and jumped up and down on it, splashing the meth deep up into that old boys bowels.

Boner's face lit right up, and his ears started flapping like they do... he looked like he couldn't have been happier with that white ass blasting through his bowel. Carl jumped up beside him and real quick explained to him about how we wanted to put him charge of putting his but juices on the new line of White Trash Enemas.

Boner was so happy that he jumped down off the balls with no regard to his anus having just been filled by a large enema. His feet hit the ground and he let loose with a brown blast that splattered the truckers and fag hags and their groupies.... This seemed to launch them all into some kind of sexual frenzy, which set off a new round of vomiting among the neighbors that was a watching and taping everything on their cell phones. Shappy had to run back inside.

I guess actually Boner was relieved that Carl was taking this latest gay religion of his with a grain of salt, instead of the usual week long hissy fits he's known for. By the time they got back up inside the trailer, Carl got Boner to agree to disband the religion in exchange for renewed litter box privilges -- Boner has been messing in the plants up under the windows and behind the couch ever since these two started having problems over Boner's Bitching...

Boner told all the trucker's to go home, and they reluctantly did. You would think they would learn after awhile that Boner doesn't really mean it when he starts these religions, but they fall for it everytime. Carl says it's cause Boner is so hot, but I happen to know Carl was conditioned to think this by Boner when he was a small kitten.

I'm letting him keep the mud balls and the little shrine, mostly because it will be easy for his gay trucker buddies to find our trailer, which should help the traffic problem that all these truckers have been causing as they cruise around the trailer park looking for some White Ass.

Boner's as happy as can be with his new product line -- him and Carl have been trying out different types of enemas all afternoon. They've still got like six crates to go and they're both already leaking something awful.

I'm going to have to hose out the whole trailer when they'e done. . . like I always have to when those two get to playing with enemas. Sure am glad things are back to normal around here.

Boner Says He's Bitching For God Now
by jsr

3:33 PM

Three awful days have passed since Boner first put the fifteen foot mud balls in the back yard. Things have kind of spun out of control ever since then, with all these huge semi-truck's sporting rainbow flags blocking every entryway into Rabby's Trailer Park Emporium. I guess by now the Legend of White Ass has been told across CB radios all over The six county area, and carved into the stalls of every truck stop from here to Fort Wayne.

There are now a couple hundred of them out there, gay truckers and their groupies -- various fag hags have been showing up today, too. All of them wearing just them pink trucker caps saying Peterbilt, and them damn white tube tops and nothing else. The sight is making the neighbors vomit, and that is not adding anything pleasent to the usual dog shit and urine scent of this trailer park.

The cops have been keeping watch on this from outside the trailer park, which is making me nervous as hell. I sent shappy up to see what they was doing and he says they're just drinking beers and whacking off. Shappy thinks this is all anyone ever does, so when he is supposed to be checking on cops or Buffalo Survaillance, or whatever... he always just comes back and says, "They're drinking beers and whacking off." Boner buys this story everytime, too.

I am now convinced that Boner started his gay trucker's church all because I told him that he couldn't keep putting the meth up his but.

By now you all should know that he keistered the latest batch of White Trash meth, turning it into the gay trucker phenomena White Ass... and that I told him we weren't a going to let him put anymore meth up his but. This was after Boner was all happy with having farted out all these bags, tricking the cops and getting to make his asshole the center of attention.

Boner was pretty sure this was the best thing that ever happened to him. A crying Carl told me this afterwards. Carl at least is avoiding the mud ball religion thing. He's just in the back room snorting white ass and playing with those crumpled up paper balls of his.

Anyways, I'm a thinking now that Boner Statrted this whole religion just to keep putting the meth up his butt. If I had told him that he could keister some of it, maybe... but no, I was so sick of smoking meth that smelled like his ass that I pretty much told him there was no way the white trash was getting anywhere near his asshole.

I guess I shouldn't have been so hard on him. Boner has had a difficult life, what with being abducted by a family of pigs, and raised out back of the house. He was a teenager before my parents realized anything was the amiss. Like daddy used to say, "If you'd a been raised by pigs, a rutting on your brothers and sisters all your life, then you'd fuck sheep and chickens and stray cats, too."

I hate to say it, but I am almost ready to join the enemy camp, which has turned out to be none other than the secretly gay meth snorting minister Gilford Tuttle. He is on the CB every day now, from when he wakes up until he passes out late at night, going on and on about the heathen activity taking place in Boner's church. His descriptions are pretty damn graphic, and not for the light hearted. Shappy is of course wetting himself whenever he hears the guys voice, and then the diarraeh starts and no place in this trailer is splatter free after a few days of this, believe me.

Boner took all the latest batch of white trash, and has spent the morning 'converting' it into white ass, by having his minions poke bags up into his but, which he then wet farts back out.

They've got some kind of religous chant going while he does it. Whenever another bag of white trash is poked in -- on the end of this large black dildo, Boner's yelling, "I'M BITCHING FOR GOD!!"

His followers then chant back, "He's god's bitch."

They've been doing this all morning.

"I'm bitching for god."
"He's god's bitch."

It gets to you after a few hours, believe me.

Boner Snorting Meth and Screwing Gilford Tuttle
by jsr

2:50 PM
Like anyone who was listening to Tuttle's program this afternoon, I have just learned that Boner has continued the Bitch ways that he learned in prison, and is once more out peddling his ass. Boner decided to expose this preacher after listening to this Tuttle's CB radio 'salvation station,' which he uses to harrass trucker's passing by on highway 6. We was a listening to the show, because a lot of the Trucker's are our customers... Well, Gilford was going on about the Mountanous Balls of Jock Jesus, and some trucker who was just passing through came back at him, saying something about how having a Jesus with big balls seemed a little gay to him. Hell, anyone can see this jock jesus thing is a little gay -- Boner is known to often touch himself during the Savation Station CB broadcastes, which often include graphic descriptions of a well-muscled Jesus working out.

Tuttle didn't seem to know this though, and he got all full of himself and started ranting about how homosexual marriages were going to cause a break down in the local sewer systems. He is always saying this, and most people have just come to accept it as true.
When Boner heard this stuff about the gay marriage would destroy the local sewer systems, again... and then Carl broke down and started crying over it... Well, Boner just went crazy, picked up that CB and jumped on, right in the middle of the show, and starting saying how he was bitching for Gilford Tuttle, doing crazy gay stuff on meth in some abondoned porta potty. But Bouncing, hip hopping, ankle flipping...

I guess Boner met his 'gay trick,' this preacher, when he was out selling that white trash meth that smelled like his but. Of course it has become all the damn rage in the underground gay scene here in town, which up until this I had pretty much believed was just Boner and his cat Carl.

Gays have been drawn by this but-smelling meth from as far away as a truck stop out on interstate 75!! Somebody carved our name into the wall out there, and we've been getting calls asking for White Ass all the time. That's what the street name for this stuff has become -- White Ass, which does not please me one bit... makes light of our trademark name, White Trash. I have been damned careful with my Branding, like I learned from reading part of an article about Martha Stewart during the year I was in prison... the third time, I think. We have tried so hard to keep White Trash in good graces with our sensitive customers, like the grade schoolers and their parents. I'm doing my best damage control, trying to get the kids to call this batch White Poo, or something more kid friendly...

I would also like to assure our customer's that our next batch is going to be kept the hell out of Boner's but!!! I don't care if my decision has made him cry. Lord, he did love farting out them bags, after keistering them down to the 7-11. Made him and his asshole the goddamned center of attention, and you know he likes that. Personally, I'd almost rather quit the meth than have to smoke his ass smell again... almost.

And as far as this thing with this Gilford Tuttle, he is denying everything, I guess. ... but Boner has tapes and proof and such that we will be releasing throughout the day, as he finds the stuff.


What, Me, But Bounce? Oh, no...

I have been accused . . . I, Gilford Tuttle, most blessed on high among men, has been actually accused of having meth fueled gay sex with some hot stud from the disreputable, untrustworthy 'southside' of the trailer park. I have not now, nor have I ever, slid my dick into this guys hot ass. Nor has his hard, long, tall one slid up deep, deep inside my quivering bowels. In fact, I am so heterosexual that if I am not at church, I am usually testicles deep in the little lady. Can't get enough of the vagina, I always say in private and silently, as the lord commands. Yes, I am 'regular' with my wife.

I have recently heard that there are even some kind of 'fake tapes,' which has a voice that does sound like me. Oh, that Satan.... he is so damn clever. Of course the dark prince will do about anything to bring down the most blessed man on the planet, I who drink of the sweet, sweet sweat dripping from the Mountanous balls of Jock Jesus... On these tapes, there is much begging for meth and hot gay, sweaty meth sex. They are just so fake.. obviously the spewings of Satan's mighty wand!!

Leaders such as me are often attacked by gay men who claim we have been having hot, drug fueled sex all damn day and half the night. The time has come for all good men to ignore this hot, heathen Boner's blasphemy!!

I have just had a vision that Jesus will be very, very pissed at anyone who believes this slander against the one he has blessed the most.

To make this go away, new revelations in The Tuttle Scriptures And Family Budget, say that all I have to do is to think of the Jock Jesus With Balls Bigger Than Man Can Even Comprehend, and say three times -- GET THEE BEHIND ME SATAN!!! GET THEE BEHIND ME SATAN!!! GET THEE BEHIND ME SATAN!!!

There, now we can all forget about this blasphemy, and go home and drink a long, cool glass of Pigmilk!!!

What? You still haven't obeyed the Lord and started drinking pig milk?

Why, "Got Pigmilk?" is what all the hip kids say -- and a wrathful god Demands.

This Tuttle is obviously very, very slick. A worthy adversary for me, Skeeter Skeeter Skeeter the seventh. He just doesn't understand that Boner has no reason to lie about this at all.

In fact, the fallout over Boner's decision to go public with his latest 'bitching,' has effected him something awful. Him and Carl are having problems over it, and I guess Boner has been banned from their litter box, which is causing some problems behind the couch that smell way too much like our meth.

He's in the bedroom crying and Carl will not comfort him this time.

New Development.. Boner has just come bouncing out of the back bedroom saying he is probably going to take it all back... I guess him and Tuttle agreed to hold a prayer meeting at some book store, Shemsties Frog Slapping Hole. He says they'll be 'a kneeling and a squeeling.' I guess that means prayng.

Later In The Night....

Strange shit. Boner come home from this meeting with the Gilford Tuttle and just went straight to the back yard, where he got out the back hoe and started digging up a bunch of the yard. I tried to get him to tell me what was going on, but he was all spaced out on the White Ass or something... I mean, the White Poo... When I tried to grab the keys out of the back hoe, he pulled a knife on me and you can bet I come in real quick....

So now a few hours has passed and it turns out he's making these huge, brown balls. They got to be like fifteen feet high. Then to make matters worse, he starts loudly praying to these things and lighting those mexican candles with the sayings about lotto winning and stuff. As the night has gone by, gay meth heads have been showing up and Boner is doing something to them, making them all kneel down and... well, pray. That's about the last thing Boner ever knelt down to do.

A bunch of gay truckers and their groupies praying to huge, brown balls in the back yard is not going to be good for the straight business.

When he finally came in, we asked him what the hell was going on, and he explained to me and an obviously miffed Carl.

"I've got religion, again."

Boner was always taking on the religion of whover he was 'bitching' in prison, so this was nothing new, but huge balls in the back yard is not going to be good for business... Well, actually, with the White Ass customer's it could pack them in... No, then we would lose that all important family trade -- our bread and butter.

This is what I was thinking anyways, when I tells Boner he has to get rid of them mud balls. Her got all weird and grabbed his shotgun and said he'd kill every heathen on the planet before he would touch one hair on them balls. He looked like he did that time the county worker said he had to get Carl fixed, and we all know they ain't never seen her again. He's sitting out there right now, on top of one of them fifteen foot high mud balls with that shotgun and a big old bag of White Ass, surrounded by all them gay trucker's in their pink little trucker caps and tube tops. One of them must have been hauling a load of white tube tops and pink trucker caps that say Peterbilt, because they are all wearing them. And nothing else. A disgusting site. Slappy is just sitting in the corner shivering and shaking and wetting and pooing on himself. Carl is in the back room throwing stuff around and chasing balls of wadded up paper, just a little swishing mess of a gay cat over this shit. When Boner comes down and sees how upset Carl is, he is going to feel bad, like he always does when he accidently starts one of his gay religions.

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