IMMORAL CUNTS FOR CHRIST

I’m often asked, mostly by the pious, what happened to me to make me despise religion so much. It’s difficult—perhaps impossible—for them to conceive of the notion that I simply don’t care for their teachings. How much irrational bullshit can a human being who doesn’t measure himself as the sum of his own obedience stomach in the name of a faceless deity whose existence has never been demonstrated to even the slightest degree? The theist line of “reasoning” goes a bit like this: 1.) The creator is on our side because our book of absolute truth says so, and we know our book is accurate because it says in our book of absolute truth that our creator said that our book of absolute truth is accurate. 2.) The creator is the only barometer of morality in the universe. 3.) Even if you disagree with us, shut your heathen mouth and follow our moral directives because those who don’t believe in God have no right to criticize him or his followers. The third one is what really gets me. Theists act as if it is the place of atheists to keep silent and let them believe what they believe, entirely unimpeded. After all, religion is the source of morality! NEWSFLASH TO THEIST FUCKWITS: Letting your daughter die of cervical cancer because you were afraid that the vaccine would make her promiscuous is immoral. Teaching kids that condoms don’t work and that only abstinence will prevent STDs (bad) and pregnancy (worse) is immoral. Suicide bombings are immoral. Tax exempt status for religious institutions with massive political and social influence is immoral. Denying a person medical treatment because your God doesn’t believe in medicine is immoral. Bombing abortion clinics is immoral. Putting religious laws in front of a courthouse where everyone is supposed to be treated fairly is immoral. Telling people what they can and cannot do with/to their own bodies is immoral. Denying people of different sexual preferences the ability to enter into the same social arrangements as everyone else is immoral. Slavery is immoral. Going to the third world to indoctrinate those living in abject poverty is immoral. Genocide of those whose invisible cloud king wears a different set of boxers than yours is immoral. Crashing aircraft into buildings because your sexually repressed ass has been told that heaven is swarming with cherry-intact cunt to fuck is immoral. The idea that a woman is worth ½ of a man is immoral (it’s closer to 2/3rds). No tits on TV is, if not immoral, at least really fucking lame. Religion is where we get our morals from? Why then, at the root of every inhuman act of cowardice and degradation do we find a Bible or a Qu’ran? Why then, is the justification behind the sum of all evils, when boiled down to the naked essentials, “God said so”? Why then did the Nazi soldiers where the words “Gott Mit Uns” (GOD WITH US) on their belt buckles as they tossed Jews, gypsies and homosexuals into gas chambers to writhe and scream and choke and gasp and die? These are important questions, are they not? The perpetual inability of theists to satisfactorily answer these and other important questions leads me to the conclusion that a theist claiming that God is the source of all morality is akin to a dictator telling you that a nuclear arsenal is the root of all peace. The next time a theist tells you that you are trying to destroy morality, do not for a moment deny it! Instead, tell them that if their idea of morality is the garbage found in their religious texts, then you are proud to be among those working to put an end to their morals. Inform them that you believe not in God and his dark morality of guilt, suffering and repentance, but in a human morality with the virtues of happiness, justice and prosperity. Then, for good measure, tell them to go fuck themselves.

A DANGEROUS IDEA?
A friend and mentor once asked the people: is there such thing as a dangerous idea? My answer: Abso-fucking-lutely. The idea that we were created by a supreme being who can reward or punish our behavior as he sees fit and that we are aware of his nature is a dangerous idea. Some would argue that if we admit that Christianity and Islam are dangerous ideas, then we have to admit that Greek mythology is a dangerous idea, a notion that anyone would dismiss as patently absurd. However, in the days when the stories of Zeus and his brood were not taken as stories, but as true accounts of beings of extraordinary power, those ideas were dangerous. The stories aren’t dangerous today, simply because no one believes them. A popular idea among religious apologists is that religion is inherently good, but that evil men use it to evil means. They look upon those piles of bodies that religion has left in its wake and say, “Religion was twisted into this! That’s not what God is supposed to be about! God is supposed to be about sunshine and bumblebees and glitter and rainbows! My God would never do this sort of thing!” Forget about Lady MacBeth! These assholes think a weak little chorus of “that’s not what I believe” is all that it takes to get their hands clean. Sorry, you degenerate jerk-offs, you don’t get off the hook that easy. Belief in God has inarguably led to many times the number of deaths that the atomic weapons dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki did, but can you imagine anyone talking about atomic weapons the same way that they talk about religion? “Well, in the right hands the bomb is a tool for peace and love, it’s only when it’s misused that bad things happen.” The truth is that religions, like those bombs, are only good at creating carnage. “But religion brings people together!” Yeah. So what? The Ku Klux Klan brings people together too. That doesn’t make it a great, morally upstanding organization. NAMBLA brings people together, doesn’t it? Let them have a few kids! What the big deal? New studies show that most 6-year-olds like a dick in their ass! As far as I’m concerned, people are better off apart. Togetherness is vastly overrated. The next time you hear togetherness extolled as a great virtue, gently remind the person blathering that nonsense that they are a filthy communist and that, as of yet, no single person acting on their own has ever committed genocide, unless you count Gargamel’s efforts to wipe out the Smurfs. “But religion gives money to charity!” Poor people need food, clothing and shelter—not bibles. One thing is for sure to anyone who has ever seen the inside of Mother (Fucking) Teresa’s “Home For The Dying” in Calcutta—the money wasn’t being used to help the sick. Maybe it went to buying more statues for the pope’s house over in Rome. Pat Robertson collects sports cars. Jerry Falwell died a rich man. Church charity is not charity, unless you consider the man at the pulpit with the huge hardon for the boys in the choir to be “needy.” The only this he really needs is a prison sentence— not for raping the boys, mind you. That’s the least of his crimes. He should be arrested for exploiting the terminally gullible. “But . . .” But nothing. Fuck off.

CHRISTIANS ARE STUPID, EVIL, CHILD-ABUSERS.
According to the Bible, God created the Earth in six days. According to calculations by Charles Lineweaver and Daniel Grether at the University of New South Wales there are about 100 billion stars with planets in our Galaxy. That means that, with 100 billion galaxies in the known universe, there are at least 10 trillion planets out there. Do you see where I’m going with this? How did a God who took six days to create our pathetic little planet do the same trick 10 trillion times since then? It would have taken God 60 trillion days to create every planet in the universe. That’s 164,383,561,643 years of worth work, give or take a few months. From the genealogies found in the Bible, Christian ‘scholars’ have deduced that the Earth is between six and ten-thousand years old. “Well,” says the ever crafty fundie, “maybe God created those other planets first, to prepare the universe for us!” Nice try, christsucker. “In the beginning God created the Heaven and the Earth.” Genesis 1:1 “That doesn’t prove anything!” further protests our missing link between man and tree stump, “It says he created the heaven first. The heaven could include those planets.” Heaven is a place of unending bliss, remember? If those planets were part of God’s heaven, then going to Heaven would be as easy as building the USS Enterprise. “Translation error!” But . . . “TRANSLATION ERROR! JESUS DIED FOR YOUR SINS!” Ah, translation errors—the last refuge of a thoroughly defeated Christian. When you hear the words “translation error,” pat yourself on the back. You’ve just won. Every argument with a fundamentalist Christian goes through six basic steps. 1.Atheist challenges scripture. 2.Theist defends scripture. 3.Atheist refutes defense. 4.Theist makes statement about the glory of Christ and his dying for our sins. 5.Atheist continues to press original issue. 6.Theist claims a translation error. I don’t recommend pressing the issue beyond step six for a reason that is exactly one word long: Salem. Don’t think they’d hesitate to kill you. These are the same people who still support Bush and the war in Iraq. They have no moral qualms about purging the world of sinners. In fact, they have no morals at all. Nothing bears this out better than the psychological, and in many cases physical, torture that they inflict upon their own children. Let me ask you a question (You can’t answer or argue! God, I love this medium!): Why the fuck is it legal to tell toddlers that they could go to Hell? Don’t get me wrong. There exist few bigger freedom fans than me. The first amendment to the constitution guarantees all people in the United States freedom of religion, without government interference. To my way of thinking, passing a law against teaching your children about your religion is

unconstitutional. Aside from that, there is a limit to how much I am willing to meddle with the upbringing of any child. Most child-rearing decisions belong to parents, plain and simple. However, children are not property. They are human beings who should be extended a certain degree of individual rights. Modern society does not allow parents to beat their children, despite the bible’s endorsement of corporal punishment. While I don’t necessarily agree that all spanking should be illegal, I think that the vast majority of people would agree that there is a line that should not be crossed. Parents do not have to right to mangle their children’s bottoms (or any other part of them), regardless of what their holy texts might say about it. The action of beating one’s children is illegal. Doing it in the name of God is no less illegal. Now imagine the psychological abuse of being taught from an age before your reasoning faculties are developed, that if you do not obey the doctrines of a religion that you have no hope of understanding, you will burn in a pit of unfathomable torment where demons will gnaw at every centimeter of your flesh and the unimaginable heat of fire too hot to comprehend will drag multi-pronged dagger-tongues across your soul until the end of time. I see that as being worse than a beating in the long run. You might as well just hand the kid a rifle and point him to the nearest bell tower. So, why do we allow it? I can’t think of a good reason. We’d never allow a parent to tell their child, “If you don’t obey me, I will pull out all of your teeth with an old pair of pliers and fuck your mouth!” so why do we allow, “If you don’t obey God (me), you’ll go to a land of eternal torment to writhe in agony for infinities upon infinities!” If you remove the sacred cow status of religion for a moment and look at the situation objectively, I’m sure you won’t be able to answer the following question. Who does more damage to a child: a one-time rapist or a parent who teaches them that if they’re not good they’ll burn in hell forever? Whatever your answer, I’m willing to bet that you actually had to stop to think about it.

the shooters at Columbine High School. but is it really what we desire? In your little black hearts can’t you admit. the most spectacular of secularists. totally unfair debates. The sad truth is that a shit-for-brains who thinks that Papa Smurf in the sky is watching his every move with unwavering concern will. if converted (or deconverted. if only to yourselves. the apotheosis of atheistic intellectual integrity—and other such corny alliterations. Without religion. You’ll not improve such a person—if anything. Instead.CONVERSION COUNTER: 0 AND STEADY I once remarked that converting a Christian to atheism is like changing the label on a jar of pickled dog turds. They managed to convince themselves that their shootings were. And who will we do intellectual battle with? Each other? I know we say that. being blown by holographic teenagers while robot nurses pump apple-sauce down my throat through little grey tubes. Those of you who revel in your elitism now may well find yourself clutching at straws to justify your worth in the secular utopia of your fondest dreams. Atop my nightstand I’ll have a little scrapbook of all the believers I ever crushed in one-sided. natural selection. transform into the most brilliant of brights. . I WARN YOU FURTHER: In an atheist world. won’t it? Won’t you look back on the pwnage of those imbeciles and smile? I know I will. They were as atheistic as I am. you’ll make him worse. If they’d been Christians. I stand by that statement. Many Atheists give oblivious credence to the notion that an imbecilic theist will. intelligent design will never be topped. they were Atheists. become a shit-for-brains who thinks that books are a nifty decoration. That’s not progress by any definition of the word that I would embrace. but inside I’ll be crying. I’ll look at their pictures and I’ll laugh myself to sleep each night. in some way. and they killed for Nietzsche and Darwin. there is no religion to destroy. for a moment. but they embraced the dogmatism of the thoroughly debunked idea of Social Darwinism (which should rightly be called Social Spencerism). once converted to atheism. atheism will no longer be a badge of intellectual prowess. Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold. It will always hold that special place in our hearts. that it’s a lot more fun using your vast intellect to anally rape the cognitively deficient than it is rationally discussing ideas with your equals? I suppose we can always argue with the social Darwinists—but as far as pseudo-sciences created solely to justify the actions of the powerful against the powerless go. Our victory is our defeat. if you prefer) to atheism. sitting in my rocking chair. I imagine myself in the old atheist’s home. Consider. they might have killed for Jesus.

THAT IS WHY THEIR IS DEPRESSION AND SUICIDE BECAUSE ATHEIST LIFE IS BASE ON PERFORMANCE. because I’m a good sport. LOL. But I don’t think I should have to worry about the proximity of my head to my body just because I like to create insulting depictions of the “prophet” Muhammad. I consider that a work hazard. Youtube User (abysmal spelling and punctuation has been corrected) The religion that talks the most about forgiveness is the most unforgiving. I’ve received more death threats from those Muslims in the last few months than I have from Christians in the last 10 years.” MuhammadFaysalNawa. racist fucking kafir! I wish I could chop your fucking head off you fat fuck! Islam OWNS YOU. Youtube User (abysmal spelling and punctuation has been corrected) “Hey. I’m going to get stung every now and then. I even like to think of them as inseparable. I’ve spent a good chunk of my life mocking Christianity and only the last few months expanding my interests to Islam as well. My head and my neck are good friends. bitch!” islamistic123. violence doesn’t bother me much. . I hope some proponents of the religion of peace don’t prove that assumption false.” karimsaber123 . why you are insulting Islam? This is a very big thing! You had better back off these shitty things or you are a dead man. YOU PIG HONKY.ISLAM IS LAME “YOU THINK YOU HAVE BALLS? I WOULD CHOP YOUR HEAD OFF YOU PATHETIC FAT SHIT. I swear to God. I know full well that if I poke a few hornets nests. SAYING LIFE IS MATTER OF CHANCE. so it should come as no shock to anyone that the one that talks the most about peace is the most violent. I’ll even have a beer with the asshole that did it later (and draw penises on him when he passes out). Honestly. If someone wants to punch me in the teeth for pissing all over their notions of how the world works. IF I MET YOU I WOULD DO ALLAH SWIFT HONOR AND THE UMMAH HONOR OF CHOPPING YOUR HEAD OFF AND DRAINING YOUR BLOOD! KEEP HIDING BEHIND YOUR COMPUTER! COME TO ENGLAND AND SAY THAT TO MY FACE AND I WILL STAB YOU UP. man. Youtube User (abysmal spelling and punctuation has been corrected) “FUCK YOU. YOU ATHEIST BASTARDS HAVE DESTROYED THIS WORLD WITH YOUR EVOLUTION THEORY.

If you’re in charge of Hell and you want people to sin. but thanks for doing so. the less sense it makes. then why is Hell a place of torment? Signed. . Satan ***** dear Stan. To answer your question. Your Friend at the End. I don’t know why I would torture those who take my side in the war against God. It’s a little bit embarrassing that a child had to point it out to me. Why would I incentivise people to turn to God and away from me? It seems like I’d be doing much better business if I made Hell a little bit more appealing. The more I sit here and ponder it. Susanne Dear Susanne.CHILDREN’S LETTERS TO SATAN deer satan. we lernt in sundae scool that u r evul. I don’t get it. YOU are so Stupit to b against god. What the fuck is a sundae school? Do they teach you to make sundaes there? Are you going to attend Baskin-Robbins Tech when you grow up? Seriously. He will kick you BUTT when the day of Judgmint cames. If you can answer that question than you’re a lot smarter than I am. Your Pal In Hell. My mom sed so. I’m almost surprised that you managed your own name. I’m glad your being instructed in how “evul” I am—but maybe your parents should spend a little less time pumping your head full of that stupid nonsense and a little more time teaching you how to spell. Satan ***** Dear Satan. I promise that by the time you get here (you know a girl as analytical as you is going to wind up a Godless atheist heathen) things will be much nicer. why come r u evul? signed. I’m evil because all the good guys like your Sunday school teacher are dicks who indoctrinate children to ensure that their collection plates stay full well into the next generation. billy Dear Billy.

***** Dear Satan. Second of all. so I’m trying you as a second resort.Signed. but I just can’t believe it. Chris . angels. First of all. I get far too few compliments on my appearance. The Big Red Guy With A Flame In His Eye. Your Fan. God is all-powerful. Ritalin. Ever consider the notion that maybe I’m not really the one on the evil end of this whole good/evil spectrum? Third of all. Well. Why do you have a pitchfork? Is there hay in hell? I thought you were cool in that stupid Tom Cruise movie where you steal that unicorn’s horn. Is that cool? Dear Jonathan. my full name is Beelzebub Lucifer Satanson. Thank you. I can’t possibly be against God unless that’s what he wills me to do. I like to light things on fire. Your horns are cool. talking snakes. Satan ***** Dear Satan. I just don’t see how any of it can be true. are you taking spelling lessons from Billy? Judgmint? Sounds like something they put on your pillow in purgatory. not Stan. JED Dear Jed.S. people turning into pillars of salt—I’ve tried and I’ve tried. Why would God be so cruel as to force me to suffer just to have the universe a certain way.S. actually. Hoping. Satan P. but everyone calls me Satan for short. Your Source Of Laughter In The Ever After. Fuck yeah. you might ask if you were smarter—the answer eludes me. You. my name is Satan. You need it. God. God doesn’t answer my letters. Jonathan P. Your horns are cooler than a unicorn’s horn anyway.

then these words that you think I’m speaking to you know should suddenly just vanish into thin. . . If I didn’t exist. . Are you really willing to accept that? If you are.Dear Chris. . then you’d have to accept that the bad things in the world are not the fault of an allmalevolent being and that all the good things can’t be credited to an all-benevolent one.

. 15. Your kids will stand taller than you ever stood and they will burn your book and spit on the ashes. but you’re as guilty of their deaths as if you had. take whatever drugs they want. Boys and girls—13. They write to me. and more importantly they will love who they want—and it won’t be you. when the day comes—and it will come—when you find yourself saying that I turned your children against you. I have to do the job no one else will do and give these kids some glimmer of hope. dress how they want.“FAGGOT” Christian moms and dads. because they can see that I’m not going to hate them for some petty difference. They trust me. How can I receive letters from teenage girls who don’t want to be disowned for being atheists without wanting you dead? How many letters can I read from kids who are gay in religious households where fags are sinners who go to the deepest and hottest part of Hell without wishing that each and every last one of you would just do the world a favor and die? How many kids have to wind up with slit wrists so that you can have your grotesque death symbol cross plastered to the back of your Earth-raping SUV? How many lives have to be prematurely squandered before the people realize that what’s really going on here is nothing short of a holocaust? You’re killing your own offspring. So I have to do what you won’t and can’t. Conditional love. Old enough to see through your shit. You’re not putting the guns to their heads yourself. how can you be so cruel? I’ve read the letters of your children. They can’t get it from you. I will admit it with the greatest pride that I have ever known. 16 years old. know that I will not deny it. They will fuck who they want. They look at you and see nothing but judgment and tenuous love. 14. you know. So. too young to not need your guidance and approval. I have to teach them to hate you. I have to make them realize that you’re not worth spilling tears (or blood) over. listen to whatever music they want.

I guess so . and therefore no sexuality. WHAT!? Well. he can still indulge in it if he so pleases.] POSSIBLE RESPONSE #2: God has no sexuality. So God is allowed to sin? It’s not sinning when God does it. POSSIBLE RESPONSE #4: FUCK YOU! COUNTER: [“resort” to violence] . Are you saying he has reproductive organs but no use for them? POSSIBLE RESPONSE #3: God has no gender. He’s above those laws. . You’ve won. So God could be a homosexual then. It clearly categorizes him as male. .THE GAY GOD ARGUMENT This argument isn’t going to de-convert anyone. Those are rules laid out for man. but it’s fun to use just to watch fundie faces get red: YOU: Does God have to follow the ten commandments? FUNDIE: No. COUNTER: But God made us in his image. you said that God is above the laws of man. COUNTER: The bible never makes any reference to God’s androgyny. so even though he forbids homosexuality. COUNTER: [None needed. POSSIBLE RESPONSE #1: Well.

then what’s the point of all this? If Heaven is so great. why did Satan and a third of the angels rebel against God? If God puts us here on Earth to test us. Some people who are Christians who will be saved by God would be Muslims damned to hell if they’d simply been born in a different geographic region. but every human being is given totally different trials and tribulations.)      . If God knows who’s going to Heaven and who’s going to Hell. why does he make the test unfair? A test only makes sense if everyone is given the same test. What does your personal comfort have to do with objective truth? How big is God’s dick? (You have to ask this one seriously. demanding an answer as if it were of vital importance.QUESTIONS CHRISTIANS HATE  Why does God desire the affection of vastly inferior beings like us? It’s like if you or me demanding to be praised and glorified by ants.

There are four basic methods of fucking with peoples stupid heads. you start whining about everything wrong in your life. . The more inane the shit you bitch about. Basically. which is effective." I know. it's so easy that it doesn't even require any brain activity. I'll come back later. If you bitch about valid things. for the most part. I usually say them when in mixed company. Basically. or when speaking to one with fragile ears. . but illegal and costly. AA. What's worse. 3. I'm here to help. And do you know what? He enjoyed it too. . you just grumble. Victim: "Hey. then your misery is likely to be compelling—which you . The Amazing Atheist Method THE GRUMBLING PRICK METHOD This method is usually effective on those who want to ask for favors or opinions. Flippidyskittlefucker! YOU KNOW NOT MY POWAH!!!" Victim: "What?" Me: "Fraggenrippert shitterpickfork eat nachos in hellzzor!!!" Victim: "Uh." THE "MY LIFE IS SHIT" METHOD This is the favorite among whiny people who. but it tends to be slow—and problematic if they drink tea or water or cat piss. Amazing Atheist? I am not clever and witty like you. and a frail mind in between them. 1. when you are approached by an undesirable. Observe my ingenious equation below. just make some shit up. "Did he really just say what I think he did?" You're damn right he did. you too can improve the quality of your life by being a dirty foul-mouthed bastard. People + Life = BAD Life – People = TOLERABLE And how do you get rid of people? You can stick dynamite in their asses and paint the walls with their insides . You can poison their coffee. The Grumbling Prick Method 2. and best of all for you dumbfucks. If you have a relatively happy life. The best solution to your people problem is to make your company utterly un-enjoyable by totally offending anyone foolish enough to seek your conversation. The "My Life is Shit" Method. It's how I maintain my sanity. Don't fret. Amazing Atheist?" God you people ask some dumb fucking questions. The Polite Asshole Method 4. "How can being grossly offensive improve my life. "How do I accomplish this feat. . and now. don't even understand that it repels people. with my help.HOW TO GET LEFT THE FUCK ALONE I am vulgar. Jaws drop and gasps resound. can I borrow some salmon?" Me: "Grrrrrrr . the better. I think bad thoughts and more often then not I shit them forth from my mouth with all the enthusiasm of an overpaid whore on ecstasy.

WRONG RESPONSE: "Oh. because you'd never understand. Basically. You don't want to compel them. However. Your response should be inane and whiny. and not just because it's named after me. huh?" Me: "Fuck you." THE POLITE ASSHOLE METHOD This method requires more brains than the others. Victim: "Do you think that they will ever create a computer with Artificial Intelligence?" Me: I don't think a machine could function on your intellectual level. THE AMAZING ATHEIST METHOD This is my favorite method. TJ!" Me (in depressed voice): "Hi. this is the best method for those desiring a feeling of superiority to those that they are insulting. A good sense of irony is needed for this one.don't want. and make it sound like a compliment. you shriveled scrotum sack!" Victim: "Hey! Fuck you. asshole!" ." That's sure to lead to a lot of consolation that you don't want. . sir. EVERYTHING is the matter. My Coke is flat. My Toes hurt. do you want to go swimming?" Me: "In your bloody remains maybe. And to top it all off. but I'll give you an example: Victim: "Hi. TJ. you insult them subtly. Victim: Really? Me: Oh yeah. this is where you hit them with it. . I won't even bother explaining." Victim: "Um . but have a lot of authority. uh . and is the least effective in getting rid of people since many are too thick to even know that they are being insulted. My hands are kind of cold. For instance: Victim: "Hi. RIGHT RESPONSE: "Something the matter? No. I've got a paper cut." Victim: "Something the matter? You sound down. You most commonly see this technique used by people who want to insult people who are ridiculous. A serial killer murdered everyone I loved and brutally raped me. people that I hate keep trying to talk to me. . . A computer with a brain like yours wouldn’t know what to do with itself. Nothing much." Now.

Anyhow.) "Wow. Amazing Atheist." Yes. you sure are the greatest genius to ever live. .Me: "SUCK THE BALLS OF THE GREAT MONKEY DEMON!" Victim: "Eeeeeeek!" (faints. And you aren't even worthy of my great wisdom. I'm off to drink the urine of 17 virgin cattle so that I may unlock the secrets of the multiverse and all of its special juicy cosmic-type powers.

you'll never get anywhere if you write what you think. not really. You feel better all ready. Writing! What could be better? You can remain as lazy as you ever were and never have to go out doors. That's probably why I'm struggling so much with this medium. A few hours later. you rush home and break out the old typewriter (PC's are for pussies). You can be as ugly as a festering splatter of runny cat shit and still become an internationally recognized celebrity with infinite wealth. . you tell yourself. you’re ready to begin work on your masterpiece. rubber dick. You’ll show that fucking M! You’ll never put him in any of your stories! There wont be any M’s in your stories! No sir! On your way out the door your phone rings. Most things. after all. No biggie! The burns don't hurt that much. After you get the dust out of every crevasse and yank the dead rat out of the roller. You give up and go to sleep saying that you'll try it again tomorrow. looking at you in his smug. Another thing to remember is that you have to write what you feel like writing.K. You don't need a big vocabulary. They sit down and write. No ideas emerge immediately. and you're sure you can sleep at a friend’s house until you get back on your feet. That's kind of funny. But I could be pretty goddamned good—better than any of these fucking monkeys that are writing today. It's your boss wondering where you were all day. but fuck those guys! You aren't going to be one of those! You're going to be a number one bestseller. limited addition XK-33 with an ultimum 666 processor and a flat-screen monitor. Well. Stephen King will beg to suck your dick so that he may achieve an inkling of your tremendous talent by stealing your semen and using it to make a clone of you so that he can steal its inevitably brilliant ideas. most writers make next to nothing and have to hang on to their day jobs to pay the rent. that's awful! I could do better than that! And that's when the little light bulb manifests out of thin air right above your head. deluxe. After having had this epiphany. You bring it into your work room (formerly called the bathroom) and plug that bad boy in. After a few hours you type an M.HOW TO WRITE A BOOK This is what writers do. it is unbefitting a writer such as myself to watch television anyway. gazing madly at the blank sheet of paper. You are badly burned. You pick it up. Shit. You stare it with the attentiveness of a coked-out president peeking in at one of his hot daughters showering through a cracked door (nothing against "good ol' G Dubbya. The side of the box reads." I ain’t no terrorist-lover). FUCK HIM! You lift the typewriter up and toss it across the room right into your TV set. will say themselves if you let them. I'm not a very emotional person. but the paramedics tell you that your insurance has expired. smashing the screen to smithereens. That's okay though. you're back with your brand new. you're going to be a filthy stinking-ass rich writer soon. If I even unlocked the feelings that I know must be somewhere deep inside me (probably near the crotch) I would be better than Shakespeare. Well. killing two and injury twenty. smart-ass way. THE OFFICIAL COMPUTER OF SATAN. Who cares? It’s a nice night for walking anyway. You hang up the phone and giggle at your cleverness. Unfortunately. That is the extent of your talent. You decide that you need to go buy a brand new PC. You decide that the typewriter approach is outdated. you don't even have to have much of anything to say. The next day you sit. floppy. It explodes into flames and burns down your apartment complex. Rowling. What the fuck is wrong with that fucking M? He’s just sitting there. You realize that you've just found your calling. Isn't that how it always starts? You look at the work of those who are getting paid for something and realize. you have no way to pay for it unless you take all the money out the savings account that you've had since you were a little kid and would sell your body to the local sex offender. Hell. You could write a book about your right nut and sell more than J. You smile and nod with self-approval at you excellent purchase. It won't start. And tomorrow you can go back to that computer shop and give them Hell! You hop in your car. That's okay. actually. You tell him to go fuck himself up the ass with a big.

you lie there and pray for death. but the police do. Then. but it's not such a bad thing. It doesn't come. huh? Ya sonuvabitch!" she yells passionately. You scream. She uses this opportunity to kick your nuts a few times. The bitch must die! You run after her screaming obscenities at the top of your lungs. jump back and try to run. as you clutch your balls in pain. . her dog mistakes your face for a fire-hydrant. but granny isn't having it! "Thought you could off me. and you'll have plenty of time to write in prison. They arrest you.After a few hours (during which you could not locate one working payphone) you arrive at your friend's apartment. You fall to the ground and turn on your side. After she leaves. You spot and old granny walking her tiny poodle around the block. You begin to feel a bit angry and decide to mutilate the first person you see. while unloading two bullets into you—one in each butt cheek. Her face contorts in panic and she grabs a Glock . He is not home. At least you'll get some medical attention.9mm out of her purse.

"It is better to keep your mouth shut and be thought a fool than to open it up and get your tongue eaten by evil flies. people won't understand what you're saying.” Sure. If you don't. Anyhow." If you have trouble finding clothes that scream that. people who don't talk much are considered to be intelligent. It is a good idea to get the ugliest possible pair in the store since everyone knows that smart people have no . This is a well known fact among anyone who watches TV. This is because they." Or something along those lines. record it on a pocket recorder and play it in a continuous loop everywhere you go. Thus. SILENCE Abraham Lincoln once said. become much smarter than you are now. I'll simplify it for you: You are stupid. VOCABULARY A timeless method for seeming smarter than you could ever hope to be is to use incredibly complicated language to communicate any task. that other people do. since advancement in human society is based not on how intelligent you are. For some reason.HOW TO SEEM SMART Even though you will. If you already wear glasses. but how intelligent you can seem to those handing out social promotions. you'll still be fairly stupid. or at the same things. the point is this: shut the fuck up. Which is okay. "I don't understand. FASHION SENSE BACK AWAY FROM THE DESIGNER BRANDS! From now on you shop at K-mart. myself and some acquaintances shall embark upon a journey to the local market in the pursuit of reasonably priced sustenance to sate our appetites in the immediate and for a period of days forthcoming. But if you follow his instructions to a T you can at least seem smart to others. your position in the social hierarchy will rise faster than your dick at the sight of any sort of farm animal. "I AM A GEEK! I'M TOO SMART TO WASTE TIME DRESSING MYSELF LIKE A HUMAN BEING. You need stuff that positively screams. If a guy (or gal) wears glasses." 'Genius' Language: "Presently. Perhaps because it is assumed that they are deep in thought about physics or genetic enhancement of the male sexual organ.* GLASSES Smart people wear glasses. let it be known that they are probably capable of building atom bombs using only duct tape and silly putty. . great. THE LAUGH Smart people do not laugh the same way. like you. You must perfect a laugh that sounds something like a bat getting butt-fucked by and elephant. go get some. This will take time and . Amazing Atheist! BLaaaaaarrGGGHH! Why come is I be so dumb?" It's okay. where you will buy only the most repulsive clothes that you can find. For example: Concise Language: "My friends and I will go to the store and get some food. but you'll seem smart to them because you used lots of really big words. over the course of my numerous lessons. The Amazing Atheist is smart. or whatever it is that smart people think about. are stupid and have no concept as to what actually constitutes intelligence. .

Another important factor is what you laugh at. Their minds are always analyzing things. like Big Momma’s House 2. This will divert their minds from your digression from established intellectual standards of humor. If you do. or an upcoming sci-fi or fantasy film. "I don't know what came over me. be sure to take pictures and send them to all the members of your family as well as your classmates/co-workers. *For those of you wondering. and you will notice a big change in the way people view you. Smart people are always doing eccentric things like that. "But what happens when I have to tell a joke of my own. Things that you find funny now. . Watch Monty Python and just laugh every time it seems like there was a joke." Then start bitching about Bill Gates. I apologize for my immaturity. Smart people are fairly slow to pick up on things like that. and I recommend that you allow yourself to get butt-fucked by an elephant (just once) so that you can get in the proper frame of mind. If you tell a joke that hints your stupidity. I suppose. just aren't gonna cut it in the intellectual community.practice. just laugh and say. Eventually you will begin to think that you actually understand the humor and will be able to pick up on smart people jokes in the real world. You don't have to. But. the thing that smart people actually do think about most is how unfair it is that they are trapped on a planet full of imbeciles. Amazing Atheist? Won't it reveal to them my overwhelming stupidity?" Nah. I digress.

Because of my fair skin and massive fatness. There’s nothing I hate worse than feeling stupid. point out words that I mispronounced or logical fallacies within my arguments. I wear the same pair of jeans for weeks because I’m too lazy to transfer my things from one pocket to the next. I have masturbated to “The Simpsons. I shit in the cat litter box just to see what it would feel like. I have revolting stretch marks up and down both sides of my body. I pick my nose to an obscene amount and examine my finds afterward. If I were sensitive about my weight. Prove me wrong. ranging from Encyclopedia Dramatica to Jordi Cruise. I have back hair. I fantasize about being cooked alive by sexy female cannibals.HOW TO PWN MY ASS ON YOUTUBE Despite frequent attempts from a plethora of sources. Find two clips of me saying totally contradictory things and play them side by side to make me look like a jackass who doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I play with my balls for at least one hour each day. I think 14-year-old girls are hot. I have yet to feel truly pwned here on “the internets. I waft my own farts upwards so that I can catch their aroma. don’t you think I’d make a better attempt to conceal it? If you really want to get to me. POINT OUT MY FAILINGS People seem to adore pointing out my shortcomings rather than arguing with my position. If I misspelled a word in my title or description. so does everyone else. When I was 11. I masturbate to deviant pornography. Twice. this helpful pwnage guide will change this fact forever. WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS. . I submit this bullet-point list of some of my failings. (Yeah. And smell my hands afterward. for my beloved collection of invective-spewing haters. So.” My penis is small enough to fit in your pocket. SEIZE MY INSECURITIES You’ll make no progress simply calling me fat.” Hopefully. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • My oral hygiene is below average (above average in Britain). I leave them up because I assume that no one will ever be anal retentive enough to notice them. They’re quite ugly. but I actually admit it) I keep arguing a point even after I’ve been proven wrong because I’m too embarrassed to admit defeat. jump on it like CapnOAwesome jumps on an opportunity to whore himself out for even the faintest possibility of a new subscriber. UNCOVER MY CONTRADICTIONS I have plenty of contradictions from video to video. I neglect my toenails. My nose is covered in black heads that I’ve made no attempt to treat.

and abortions will become as commonplace as brushing your teeth (this may be a bad example for those of you living in Great Britain). Bush. The only answer is to mandate prayer in schools. I’m the last person to argue with scientists. If it was this hot as recently as 12. For the sake of making a larger point.EVERYTHING’S FINE According to the right. We’re so important that it must be our fault! Look. Greedy multi-national corporations will conquer the planet until every last human being on earth works for slave wages. burn the Bill of Rights and. indeed. It got from there to here without our help. If this hell were ever realized. “as hot as it’s been in 12. . It sounds right to the left on a visceral level. I have a question. The sea level was 80 feet higher. Liberal extremists will conquer the planet. gospel—is about the least appealing thing in the world to anyone with half a brain and a set of balls (don’t be offended ladies. as bad as they think it is. Why do we automatically assume that it must be our fault that it’s going back again? Sure. . Meteorologists can’t figure out the weekly forecast half the time. but that’s what evolution is for—adapting. We have sinned against mother nature and soon the ice caps will melt and everyone will suffer horribly. The only answer is to stop eating meat. it just doesn’t sound very reasonable. then why is it so unusual that it’s this hot now? The fact is that. At least liberals have the scientific community behind their doomsday scenario. adjusting to a changing climate will suck. the world is about to end. gay orgies will spread like wildfire. but climate science is one of the trickiest branches there is. “Must be something we did!” and ignore any evidence to the contrary. for the love of all that is holy. we say. Meanwhile. Let’s just ask ourselves these two questions: Could the liberals be right about the world being fucked by global warming? . The neocons have only got “biblical” evidence (read: jack shit).” but this planet is 4. I think it’s safe to say that we’ve had a good run.000 years ago. just a million years ago. their idea of heaven—you know: clouds and harps and all that jazz. The air was far more humid and stifling. And the conservative idea of hell on earth is rampant alternative sex and drugs with no legal consequences whatsoever. that would certainly suck but we’ve already got caffeinated donuts and Die Hard 4 . drive hybrid cars and stop saying anything even remotely offensive about anyone other than George W. er. but Climatologists are 100% certain that human CO2 levels are responsible for global warming? From a purely common sense standpoint. people like me would find themselves in heaven. We have sinned against God and soon his judgment will be upon us and everyone (except those brought up to Heaven in the rapture) will suffer horribly. the Earth’s climate was completely different than it is now. but those of us who have orgasmed without procreation even crossing our minds and not felt so much as a single iota of guilt afterward know that there is little worse in life (or afterlife. the world is about to end. the analogy could as easily be ‘and a functional cunt’) It would be like the worst hell imaginable! Eternal bliss may sound good to the people who have never even had a single second of bliss in their lives.000 years. I’d presume) than too much of a good thing. And if the planet becomes uninhabitable. stop teaching children that evolution nonsense! According to the left. let’s all pretend that the conservative notion of human liberty as the apotheosis of immorality is. The conservative’s arguments for what’s wrong in the world makes even less sense.5 billion years old. Imagine planet Louisiana. Climate scientists are quick to point out that the earth is. Doesn’t anyone else think that things are fine and that we’re all being arrogant and reactionary? When the Earth starts getting warmer.

“Don’t Worry.” But how can we not worry when everyone else assures us that there’s so many things that we need to worry about? How can we be happy in a world full of miserable people? Being an optimist sucks. “what about the people who think things are the best they’ve ever been and are getting better?” We exist. I assure you. Don’t we get a say in all this? Where’s our media exposure? Where are our celebrity icons? Our propaganda films? All we’ve really got is that stupid fucking Bobby McFerrin song. Be Happy.Could the conservatives be right about the world being fucked by God? The respective answers are maybe and no. But the more important question here is. .

in spite of your character flaws. I state my opinion. “Wow. If you examine the words "change your mind" closely. usually. this mechanism. but the dissenters only scowled at me and stayed their course. Today. but there was always an “us” and a “them. There is only them. "He's changing!" screams the protagonist of a werewolf story when someone begins the transformation." says a new leader to a crowd sick of the way their old leader mislead them. Why do you think the first step any cult leader or government agent takes to brainwash someone involves eroding their sense of identity and smashing their self-esteem to pieces? Any human being functioning normally is not very susceptible to the overt suggestions of his fellow man. They actively resist it. This is because we are “wired” to distrust the outsider and accept only the ideas of those within our social group. on a few occasions. it's easy to see the source of these fears." says the scraggly villain when the hero falls." someone says sadly. people distrust everything they hear. I have no recollection—not one—of ever changing anyone's mind about anything. At least. our built in conformity streak is a big part of what makes us so reluctant to go along with people." says your girl or boyfriend just before they dump you. of which you are mostly aware. As I've stayed mine. but my enemies keep breathing comfortably. In the 1950’s when the government and corporations churned out endless propaganda. you reject their attempts. (This is a negative statement. they are you. a race of idiots recoiling from their own shadows. . everything they see.” “Us” was a collective of individuals that could be trusted—they go to the same church as you. Hell. Why? Because you're a human being who secretly believes that you are perfect. "Nothing ever changes. nearly incontrovertible evidence to back up this claim or that claim. everything they read.) The rule here is easy enough to discern—change has a positive connotations in dissatisfactory circumstances and a negative connotations when people are content (or content enough) with the way things are. if there was ever a word that scared the living pig shit out of every man walking this little ball of shit in our toilet bowl of a galaxy.THE OUTSIDER GENERATION In all my years of spouting my crazy opinions. So when someone tries to change your mind. you’re right!” I've constructed arguments that I believed to be air-tight. I suspect that people have always been terribly jittery creatures. its change: "Things change. everyone they meet. but change has positive connotations. People are cynics who distrust everything. In fact. the have the same values as you. Nearly a fourth of people believe that the Government was responsible for the attacks of September 11th. for the most part. believed every word of it. terrible things. ironically enough. It's a very negative word. You are content enough in your mind to feel as though it is untouchable and sacred— something to be preserved at all costs. the masses. but none of it has ever made anyone who didn’t already agree with me say. I've written essays and poems and songs and stories and paragraph-long insanities on a million different subjects. you state yours—and neither of us changes our mind? Neither of us improves or evolves in any immediately conceivable way? No one wants to change their mind about anything. has begun to destroy us. despite our instinct to take cues from the pack and go along with whatever the general consensus is. They hate the very notion of it. Now there is no us. It does have positive connotations as well: "It's time for a change. “Them” was any one that belonged to any other group and believed a slew on unwholesome. In this age of extremely limited social interaction. I've produced. with a psychologist’s eye. once crucial to the evolutionary process. "You've changed.

Is this a good thing? Can anyone hope to compete with other social organisms when they haven’t one of their own? Doesn’t anyone want to get together and march to war with me? Hell yes. We do not have a common system of values. We do not function as a group. We run the gamut. that component of our psyche that tells us that we’re not to trust outsiders—but now everyone is an outsider. And what is to blame for our reluctance? The conformist mechanism. but we don’t want to. a generation charged with making out own clique.We are a generation born to belong nowhere. Never mind. We do not have a common ideology. . you say? But you want to lead? Fuck that.

We’re all on different paths. what’s the big deal? I don’t mean to be horrendously offensive and insensitive here. Some women are killed afterward. Lots of things in life suck—that doesn’t mean we survived them. not to a woman who gets dick when she doesn’t want it. then I have enriched you. If you feel something. I know that it is damaging. I got one. Life leaves no survivors. but everyone survives rape. unless they are bland. NOTE ON THE ABOVE: I just showed this writing to a friend of mine. don’t you ever get tired of being the victim? How many failed relationships are you going to blame on a single violation of your personal space? I’m not making light of it. If you’ve been raped. we fear words. but they all lead to the same place.RAPE SURVIVOR CHATROOM SURVIVOR Rape isn’t fatal. Just because you got raped. you have to rape the English language? You vindictive bitch! Also. So imagine my indignation when I saw a chatroom called “Rape Survivors. then you will laugh and dismiss them as a joke. they should elevate you. along with the question.” Is this supposed to impress me? Someone fucked you when you didn’t want to be fucked and you’re amazed that you survived? Unless he used a chainsaw instead of his dick. then I’ve done my job as a writer. you will respect my bravery. then how could my words aggravate it whatsoever? Too often in this culture. If you find them sad. not rape. And the real me doesn’t give a fuck about your small-minded boundaries. If you find them funny. We are all powerless against the forces of fate (or chance). a reminder of your powerlessness against the world—but it should be a wake up call. I’m here to cross lines. But even if my words are the height of ignorance. does the above passage add insult to injury? Does it make it hurt worse? How could it? If rape is the paramount psychological trauma in life. Words never make less of a person. To say that you’re a rape survivor is as meaningless as saying you’re a jury duty survivor or a divorce survivor. The word survivor applies to people who are alive after being stabbed 73 times with an ice pick or mauled by rabid wolverines. If you find them honest. I will have given you power. I’ve included it here. but that’s murder. If you find them infuriating. This is not The Amazing Atheist from those cute little youtube videos you love so much—this is the real me. So. “Is this too offensive to release?” I was looking for a yes. .

He loves Jesus. It’s not going to protect you from the acephalous juggernaut of pure democracy. making $8. transfixed on a 24 months with no interest 52” plasma screen TV’s from Best Buy. There are Franks reading the Koran. swilling pisswater lager. He hates niggers.25 an hour after 10 years.NOBODY ‘08 A beer-bellied bastard on La-Z-Boy. The people are a great and clamoring mass of idiots who have no business making decisions about our society. don’t do them. When you go to the ballot box and cast your meaningless vote for a meaningless man or woman who has no intentions of changing a thing in this world for the better. Democracy is a packed theater full of cheering. He votes for whoever waves the flag the most enthusiastically. clapping idiots. fat and glistening with impotent monkey rage? Can you see those mustard stains on the wife beater too small to cover the gelatinous blob of hair and flesh called his stomach? Can you smell him—can you feel sweat. I hate Frank because Frank doesn’t care what happens in the world as long as it doesn’t happen to him. He loves Nascar. So why would you cast a vote for anyone? Why would you choose to build the bars for your own cage? The constitution that our wise founders set down to paper all the years ago to protect our republic from mob rule and ensure the rights of individuals has been eroded by years of apathy and malice. advertisement-plastered cars go in a circle—can you see it? Can you see those vacant eyes. If you don’t like gay marriage. motor oil and poorly wiped ass forcing its way up your nostrils? This man—let’s call him Frank—works as a short order chef at Waffle House. I don’t hate him because he’s a Christian. the plot is rehashed and the characters are two-dimensional. He hates spics." What business does the heterosexual majority have legislating the rights of the homosexual minority? What business does the white majority have deciding how much funding black schools will receive? What business does a majority of Democrats or of Republicans have telling the other near-half of the country how things will be done? Democracy in it’s purest form is just fascism by consensus. I hate Frank because he doesn’t stop to think that maybe people have a vested interest in lying to him. it’s Uncle Sam and one of the many guises of Jesus. I don’t hate him because he’s a conservative. For Frank. But that’s exactly what you’re doing when you participate in this system. He hates faggots. Politics is a movie with a high budget and a low IQ. There are hippy franks who smoke pot and listen to Grateful Dead all day. He loves ogling teenage ass. Liberty is a well-armed lamb contesting the vote. whoever tells him that he gets to keep his guns. don’t marry someone of the . Benjamin Franklin said it better than I ever could: "Democracy is two wolves and a lamb voting on what to have for dinner. I don’t hate him because he’s a poor redneck. watching fast. I hate Frank because Frank votes. enthralled by the some one-trick pony that they’ve watched for as long as they can remember. The acting is wooden. I hate Frank. Most of all. There are Franks all over this nation with perfect elocution and full pocket books. you are complicit in your own slavery. There are Franks that practice Yoga and pray before Buddhist altars. wherein 51% of the population can rule over 49% simply because they’ve got bigger numbers. Would you let your next door neighbor decide who you’re to marry or what you’re to wear or how you’re to spend your money or your time? Fuck no. whoever says the world freedom the most and whoever believes in freedom the least. I hate Frank because Frank is a stupid motherfucker that will believe whatever the proper authority tells him. Why do you need someone else to represent your interests? Why not represent your own interests in the day to day world? If you don’t like drugs. He’s an all-American.

.same sex. he just killed a few million irrelevant individuals to manage it (for the information of the historically inept. if you’re a business owner. Why do you need to pass a law that says no one is allowed to do these things? What the fuck business is it of yours where I stick a penis or a needle of a coat hanger? If I want to walk down the street naked with my cock in my hand. refuse to sell goods to me. because that’s exactly who I feel is qualified to lead me: Nobody. don’t have one. What’s so wrong with that? What’s the big fatal flaw in this plan that socialist and other democrats claim is so glaring and obvious? Freedom means the right to be part of a 1%. he still failed). The right to be in the majority is a given in any system. that should be my right! You have the right to turn away or to call me an idiot or. Even Stalin worked for the good of the majority. If you don’t like abortions. I say nobody in ’08.

Responsibility is nothing to come in your panties about.” I don’t actually believe that (my official stance on Universal Healthcare is. I don’t particularly like any of these ideas. communists). Some say it belongs in the hands of the market (libertarians. something to keep us from offing motherfuckers for looking at us funny or to keep our dicks in our pants at ballet recitals. I want you to focus very intently on the next two words I am going to type: FUCK RESPONSIBILITY. . So fuck it. “If it was someone I knew. anarchocapitalists). I know that they do it to draw a distinction between responsibility to and for themselves and responsibility to and for others—but come on. Some believe it belongs to individual persons—not to be confused with the people (anarchists). They don’t even live on the same block. And they always pose these stupid questions to me like. Yet all my libertarian friends just can’t get over how fucking wonderful responsibility is! OH! And they usually call it “personal” responsibility. Responsibility isn’t freedom. in fact. but they hate each other. but it’s fun to see them get all pissed and indignant. It always makes their heads spin when I answer. we all know what responsibility means. Responsibility should be something we begrudgingly accept as an unpleasant necessity. which is redundant because there’s no other kind. I don’t believe in anything other than tearing your stupid beliefs down until someone smarter than me comes up with a solution. some say it belongs in the hands of the people (social democrats). I’d blow your fucking head clean off just to extend that persons life another day. It makes them look like the primitivist apes they are. and their boner for the word and concept of responsibility attests to this like nothing else. shit-spewing asshole. They’re rivals. “Would you put a gun to my head and steal from me to give medicine to a sick person?” They consider this an argument against Universal Healthcare. They’re both vying for that big promotion. Fuck it right in its corny. hurling insults and screaming obscenities. fascists. The question asked by all political philosophies is this: where does power belong? Some say that it belongs in the hands of government (statists. They work at the same company.FUCK RESPONSIBILITY Libertarians don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about. Anyone who adamantly opposes a portion of their income going to the treatment of sick people deserves to die anyway. that I don’t give a shit).

you've had enough. action-oriented radio show. But when I read the inside flap. Part expose. and torpedoed the amnesty bill that would have granted instant legal status to millions of illegal aliens. I have not read the book. Do you know what I propose we do with those values? Not a damn thing. pornography. along with poignant details of her year long battle with breast cancer. What isn’t their right is telling . weaving in personal tales of her own struggle to right the culture and the politics of our country: including how she derailed the appointment of Harriet Miers to the Supreme Court. I find it hard to bite my tongue about it. and I’m the one to speak it: Conservatives. I think those values suck.where it belongs. I could barely hold back the bile. She once worked in-side the "dinosaur" media (CBS News and MSNBC) and knows the deceptive techniques practiced by those who "report" the news. and unapologetically God-fearing.strong. Laura Ingraham. and Al Gore and Rosie O'Donnell as "entertainment". HATE—not just with a capital H but with a capital AT-E as well—America. part practical manifesto. a Hollywood that peddles profanity. “If you're like most Americans. It’s their right. those flag-waving fucktards who get all teary-eyed when the Star-Spangled Banner starts bleating out of some sub-par songster’s mouth. They can all die. In POWER TO THE PEOPLE. You know why? Because I believe in freedom. Over the years Laura has jousted with everyone from Michael Moore to Bill Maher to the Dixie Chicks. Laura also reveals how she found her faith during a moment of deep loss. Too bad breast cancer didn’t win. mounted a grassroots campaign against corporate America's sponsorship of one of pop music's biggest and most profane rap stars. They talk about “Traditional Family Values” as if that means something. You guys probably think that I often do things hastily or act in anger. POWER TO THE PEOPLE is written in the style of Laura's fast-paced. the most-listened-to woman in political talk radio. schools that teach our kids more about condoms than about the Constitution. If you're tired of bewailing America's course. I hate those values. dad. and wholly entertaining. shows us how to take back what is ours. take-no-prisoners journey through our besieged culture and gives us a battle plan to re-make it anew. POWER TO THE PEOPLE is the book for you.CONSERVATIVES HATE AMERICA Okay. this is a last minute addition to this book and I’m writing it in anger. You're fed up with sell-out politicians who won't defend our borders. Little Sally likes to play with dolls and has no further ambitions than keeping the kitchen clean for her man? Fuck those values. I do everything in my power not to. the way the Founders intended . daughter—Dad works at the plant. she holds back nothing.” What’s a traditional family? Mom. patriotic. There is an unspoken truth this country that needs to be spoken. In POWER TO THE PEOPLE she provides a riotous. but really I don’t. no excuses. junior likes baseball and jet airplanes. However. I have never heard of Laura Ingraham until today. I believe that “traditional” families can be traditional until they choke on their own revolting conceit. if you want to know what you can do to protect your family and restore our country. “Fuck everyone who’s different. And for the first time. and takes the fight beyond Right versus Left to show you how to reclaim the culture and win. pro-family. They disgust me. mom is a homemaker. But there's a way to stop the madness and return power to the people . and snooty judges who think it's their job to legislate for us.com is deleting negative reviews in deference to cunt-servative ideology. son. The only thing it means is. when the book “Power To The People” by conservative talk radio slut Laura Ingraham is number one in the country and Amazon.

I love violent rap music. Because as long as there are people like you who want to clean up the world. guns. a man and two women. there are people like me who will dirty it faster than you can clean it. How can it be any of your business what your neighbor does if it doesn’t effect you? Is your traditional family somehow damaged by what Frank and Gregg two doors down are doing with their dicks? You don’t love America. two women. and if you don’t love that fact. It never did. . You love a 1950’s sitcom version of America that never existed. spics.me what kind of family I can have. it never could and it never will. kikes. I love America. niggers. lesbian mothers and Harry Potter. drugs. In short. profanity. then you’re not a patriot— you’re just another pretender. pornography. fags. a women and two men. Family is supposed to be a bunch of people under a roof that love one another—whether it’s two men. It’s my country as much as it is yours. secular humanism. Hollywood liberals.

Easy prep with little clean up. Girls get weirded out if you play with it too much and are often extremely reluctant to let you fuck it. Easy to get girls to let you play with or even fuck them. My book. “Why?”. Deal with it. I think she told herself this in order to convince herself that people like her for her brain and not for her bust. Looks good into a woman’s 40s or so. You can take a picture and she won’t be any the wiser. ASS: THE FINAL SHOWDOWN A brain dead idiot that I used to talk to (it was GypsyWytch) once told me that there was nothing sexual about breasts. Spankable.TITS vs. you may ask. she can really feel it. I’m just fucking with you! Ass wins. TIE ASS It’s a tie! No. Because human beings walk upright. that they were just to feed children. and even then there’s no real tightness. women needed a frontal as well as a rear sexual display—big tits was evolution's answer to the need. Only human breasts stay plump and juicy year round—why is that? The answer is as simple as it is beautiful. And you might get shit on the tip of your dick. but LULZ! The females of every mammalian species other than man have breasts that become engorged only when they are nursing their young. This is why a pair of voluptuous breasts looks remarkably similar to a fine ass. You get to cum on their back when you’re done. . I know that I'm probably breaking the rules of literature when I actually commit this word to ink. Just because. EDGE: ASS TITS TITS Hard to stare at without girl noticing. TITS: Have to press them together to fuck them. ASS: Asshole is pleasantly tight and even if your cock is small. ASS TITS Suckable. my rules. Requires lube and possibly some educational videos if you’re well-endowed. Tits are a mimic of ass—but are they a shoddy imitation or an improvement on the original design? Let's explore. You get to cum on their face when you’re done. Sags with age.

My favorite scenario anyone ever conceived of was removing the jaws of all my children (the youngest of which I claimed to be 8) so that they would have direct access to their throats. It's a beautiful thing. and we don't care. masochists—monsters of all shapes. but it's a mutual deception. Slit her throat and fuck the wound if you want to. I have a 13-year-old daughter and men tell me how they want to rape her and I tell them how wet it makes my plump MILF pussy to hear them say that. in a world where people are so disconnected from one another. A real one. it's based on deception. I'm depressed because I wish I had it in me to be all action and no talk. Sometimes I meet men who go beyond that. Sometimes I'm a 20-year-old girl named Kara who wants to sell myself into slavery. Other times I'm a strict father with two teenage daughters. but that they instead actually revel in it. I talk to him as Debbie. really. I'm jerking you.SOMETHING HUMAN IN THE INHUMAN I am a 35 year old mother of four sometimes in online chats. I'm not judging you. Sure. force me to drink their piss and eat their shit. offering hints as to what they want to here. who say they want to chop her young tits from her body. For instance. sadists. muscular polygamist with seven curvy wives that he slaps around for his amusement and 12 daughters that he molests on the side. We both know that we’re being deceived. Ted and I have made a connection. I am offended that no one online ever rebukes me my perversity. the question. cannibalism fetishists. Ted. strangle her with a jump rope. I don't have a daughter and if I did there's no way in hell I'd let you so much as glance at her. It's amazing how. you jerk off to mine. feel free to exercise your demons on her. masters. but in this consequence free environment. the overweight divorced accountant from Virginia becomes Ted. some of us can find true a meaningful (I'm tempted to say “loving”) connection in the most unlikely of places. slaves. Zoophiles. . they're all talk and no action. the luscious and naive 19-year-old that's looking to become wife number 8. I'm excited by how many perverts like me there are in the world. We're telling lies to each other and stroking our cocks all the while. Sure. like me. asking for explicit details regarding their spankings. a deception that we have both consented to. How do the preceding paragraphs make you feel? Offended? Excited? Amused? Depressed? I feel all of those things at once. pedophiles. I jerk off to your lies. You can rape my daughter if you want. Internet sex chats are where people go to lie to one another about what they're capable of. It doesn't matter. sizes and colors congregating in a judgment-free environment for the purpose of helping each other get off. things of that nature. "Do you make them get naked for spankings?" should always be answered yes. People write to me. I'm amused because I know that. the tall. eventually snuffing me on camera for the whole world’s pleasure. Men tell me how they want to whip me frequently. pageants of lustful deceit where sick fucks like myself go to keep our sicknesses from destroying us. make me keep a buttplug in 24 hours a day. That's what scientists call a symbiotic relationship.

logic is not flawless. as well as his guidelines for living. why bother to attack logic in the first place? Because far too many people have forgotten that logic can be imperfect. according to Descartes. I feel that we live in times that are in need of a new philosopher. whose every perversion is immediately fulfilled. politics and the education system. Only my time and your ridicule will tell. or rather. But if logic is flawed. used as a weapon or a shield for institutions that have no true merit. The truth is that logic is a blunt force instrument. Therefore. It is. So. his kindness and his cruelty. simply by hiding the lack of . and they believe in The Bible because God told them to. This only works. Religion. Sadly. reveling in my genius and lamenting my idiocy. They have no idea that I am in another place. Dream-land is basically a necessary antithesis of reality—artificial flavoring if you will. But when you try to rationalize the existence of God. Dream-land. if anything. Despite the fact that I am blessed with luxuries that most don't have. The answer is simple enough— one can't. I sit there with a blank expression on my face—the world scarcely pays attention. I remain unfazed and uncaring. when there are so many contradicting ideas out there. The real world finds me in an infinitely less enjoyable position. because my mind is a circus freak show of deformed demons and holy holes. do we know to be true? Well. I suppose that is exactly what the world of my thoughts is: a dream-land. I am infatuated with a pathetic fantasy world that is obviously a product of my shallow. It should seem obvious. meaningless life. In this wonderful. I am moving at a million miles a second. That someone is me—or it isn't. it is the true nature of this thought stream that is so often raped and mutilated by institutions such as religion. In the case of Christianity. all that is required is a belief in God. So then. are all collected in a book entitled The Holy Bible.ILL LOGIC I am not easily bored. I take some (but not much) comfort in the knowledge that I am at least intelligent enough to analyze and understand my delusions. his opinions are automatic facts. I can sit for hours in what is perceived as aloofness. Different minds make different connections and have different prejudices. I neglect my hygiene to the point of disgusting those around me. We will actively and consciously defy what we know to be true in order to obtain our ideal. Christian logic states that God created the universe and knows and sees all things. but it has become so blatant and common that it is rarely ever perceived anymore. it can be logically assumed that The Bible is always right and any other logic is just the flawed logic of man. therefore we are inclined to side with the rationale that best rewards us. how is one supposed to advance an argument? It is a question that is probably bubbling in your mind right now. a place where the beauty of ugliness is understood completely and so am I. his love and his lust. insecure in myself and unable to muster the will to take any step towards improving the quality of my existence. Politics. if you believe in God. It is for this reason that I have chosen to write this. when in reality. horrible world.Political logic is too often based upon something that is initially just propaganda. very flawed. you end up with the following paradox: Christians believe in God because The Bible told them to. It is amazing how many people can formulate a rationale to justify their actions or further their cause.Pious logic is the most dangerous and flawed of all the forms of logic. That is supposed to be the mark of a true philosopher: the ability to analyze ones own delusions. Obviously. someone who realizes both his inadequacy and his greatness. I am apathetic. I reign over the populace like the eidolon named Night from Edgar Allen Poe's. It is logic that only makes sense if one is willing to blindly accept the unprovable as fact. Atheists like myself are all too familiar with this circular reasoning. and we have no standardized system of it. the only knowledge we truly possess is that of the existence of our own thoughts. Even in the face of adversity. I am a spineless coward. But what. I want all who read this to realize that logic is not natural law. I'm very content with tranquility. I am an all-powerful god. however. His opinions. in all honesty. A clever politician knows how to confuse even the most intelligent of people. out of reality.

Example: prostitution is illegal. I am human. It could be you. That is all the justification they feel they need. and just as liable to make an error in rationality as anyone.substance behind a wall of euphemous logic. Law. because you're a waste of existence. We may get our Nietzschian Ubermensche yet. Notice a trend? Sound reasoning is often corrupted by extremely illogical suppositions at the foundational level. KEEP IN MIND. just as all of your ideas have fed mine. . But be wary. Any logic beyond that point is simply for decorative purposes. We must share knowledge and opinion with one another for as long as we are able. If you have any problem spotting the flaw in that logic. but as comedian George Carlin has often pointed out.If you drink beer. Advertising. I hope that my ideas will feed your own.Even though I try to base all my logic on fact (or at least well thought out opinion).Justice System logic is reliant on the infallibility of the justice system. All the rationality in the world means nothing if it is built upon a foundation of nothingness. beautiful women will want to have sex with you. then you need to go take some cyanide. for distortions don't always occur at the foundation. Do not consider anything I say through out the course of this book as being anything more than one man's thoughts and ideas. Always check the building material used for the foundation on which any rationale is based. I suggest that you be extremely careful when considering a new idea. it makes little sense for there to be a law against selling a thing which is legal to give away.

"Sophistry!" you say. . he that embraces only concretions is no more rational than he who embraces only abstractions. as a man standing between two giant mirrors will see an army of clones of himself—so are the gods of mortals. perception and imagination. which has an effect upon this larger universe—the mind of the one true God. The hierarchy is endless. Metal will rust. How can it be known that this is truth? It cannot. Your personal dull throbbing. I am a figment of his imagination. if you prefer. Do not shun what your mind does not grasp. Thus. Acknowledge the limitations of infinity. If you seek longevity. . You are the slave to. I am mind. This is the word of the god(dess) called dull throbbing as transcribed by the servant of reality and unreality—which are one in the same—Terroja. and master of. But let us not concern ourselves with Him. Every mortal is a god. Concrete statues crumble. But the truth is what it wants to be to who wants it to be.The God(dess) speaks Say this unto the world of man. Yes and no. I give you what you want. thus. Every god is a mortal. He is too important to be relevant. I try to sell you the flawed. Wisdom lies not in choosing one or the other. an apt (anti)prophet for this age. and they with theirs. I am an imagination of his universe. How can you discriminate when you only accept what sounds good to you? The rational man says. Strings hold all things. "I do not believe this. infinity. He is concerned with His own gods. position is irrelevant. which would you prefer? If you seek ease. then your heart is the eye that views it and interprets its meaning. And that is the only truth that you will ever accept. I have given him his name to celebrate his significance and expose naked his irrelevance. You demand metal. he is a contradiction. Mind=The universe. but in recognizing the place of both. But in building a statue. I do not exist. You demand concrete. save for existence itself. Heart=If your mind is the universe. Or. Yet. Perhaps heart or soul will be quicker to understand. An endless field of reflection. Understanding is given sparingly. I exist. He is a living martyr . Embrace the vastness of personal destiny. . Thus. Thus. you are given paper mache." The rational man ignores a heart and soul that beg aloud in his mind for him to accept the burden of true multireality—which is both reality and unreality. you will demand the concrete. growing and changing. Soul=Your soul is a string. you will demand the paper mache. Do not fear or fret if you fail to grasp this concept. Nothing is eternal.

IT’S SMALL. I’m sure. “I’m sure it’s just fine. and she closed her legs instantly and left him standing there to wallow in his woe. I just said it was small. he unveiled a miniscule member. waiting for some guy she had just met to come in and fuck her. puzzled that they would argue with me about a piece of my anatomy.” “It probably just looks small because you’re such a big guy. probably roughly the size of mine. I’d have busted your fucking nose. But hey.” “No.” “Well. I told her. She told me that she was once lying naked in bed. the revelation of what he was packing. but even disregarding that. legs spread apart. “It is. but the fact is that it is a small penis.” So maybe I am still a little sensitive about it. .” A girl told me a story once.” I insist. People always feel the need to defend my penis from me. it’s small. that probably makes it look smaller. “You’re lucky it wasn’t me. and started undressing.” “I didn’t say it wasn’t fine. All I have to do is mention that it is small and people will say. looked down at her. But at that last crucial moment. it’s easier to convince chicks to do anal. even when I’m not attacking it. “I’m not. GET OVER IT.” “It’s not small. “I don’t have anything against my penis.” “Why are you so down on yourself?” they ask. Any shame I might have about that I lost after getting laid a few times and realizing that it wasn’t the end of the world.” I always explain at that point. He entered the room.

sweating pure grease and heaving with exhaustion—it’s so fucking adorable that it makes me want to stomp on a litter of kittens while singing the national anthem. the odor that their charbroiled blubber leaves behind is exactly identical to the smell of a McDonalds.GOLDEN ARCH NEMESIS Little boys with tits! Could life possibly be more amusing? The corpulent spawn of bovine Americans waddling around on the slick floors McDonalds’ across the nation. making people more ugly with their fattening “food”—making children jones for burgers like crackheads jones for their next hit. Making the landscape more ugly with its endless golden arches. . doesn’t it? Ugliness—that’s the contribution of Mickey D’s to this fine nation. they’ve got good eats. It makes me so proud that I want to tattoo the American flag to my putrid little penis and expose myself to old women at the supermarket. Still. Damned evil cunts. Makes you want double quarter-pounder (what a ludicrous name) with cheese. A friend of mine once told me that when fat people are burned to death in a fire.

MWAHAHAHA!!! You’re lucky I’m such a nice guy. . how I’d laugh. How I’d laugh with your beautiful money fattening my wallet. that dumb ass tricked me into buying nothing! What a cunt!” Oh. Tell me there’s not a part of you that wouldn’t be impressed by that? “Holy shit. Xxx xxxx xxx xxxxxx xxx xx xxxx xx xx x x xxxxxx xx x x xxxx xxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxx xxxx xxx xx xx xx x x xxx xxxx xx x xxxx xxxx.RATED XXX How pissed would you be if I’d just filled this book with little X’s? That shit would have been so funny.

nor do I hear too many complaints from Asians about being labeled as good at math. or they undermine their own cause. .BIG BLACK DICKS I notice that black guys don’t complain too much about being categorized as well-endowed. Those who fight against it need to stop allowing exceptions. If a black man can hold the belief that he is a better dancer than most white men then why is he so offended by the notion of many whites that their race is generally intellectually superior? It seems to me that racism is either valid or its not.

instead. 1. so you must know how to spell it or it never would have reached me! You fucking people are mud—made of dirt and piss. Now imagine that person being annoyed to death by the people who write me letters everyday. “ALL YOU DO IS MAKE VIDEOS ALL DAY!” I average about one video per day. “YOU’RE FAT!” Indeed I am. Sickening. Your skills are wasted here on the internet! You should apply them. You’re writing to me. All in all. 4. five minutes to render. most annoying person you’ve ever met. to the field of espionage. but now that I’ve had the smallest taste of fame I’d castrate myself with a toothpick before wanting even one more subscriber to my Youtube channel. “YOU’RE A FAGGOT!” You’re a failed psychic. Horrifying. 3.INTERNET CELEBRITY IS A FATE WORSE THAN HELL When I was 15. yet you can’t spell my name? How is that even fucking possible? You had to type my name to send me the message. A seven minute video takes seven minutes to shoot. exactly? Is a stranger actually being so presumptuous as to criticize my use of my time? What sort of twisted sense of values would lead anyone to believe that they are in a better position to arrange my affairs than I am? I have a sneaking suspicious that the sort of people who compress the coal of my cohesion into this priceless little diamond of invective (a gem of counter-wisdom) are actually saying that instead of spending my time making videos about issues of interest or concern to me. “There’s no way this is a real person” The sentence “amacing athiest u fucken rock” is the most horrible thing I have ever seen. seven minutes to upload to my computer. Revolting. My videos are typically around six or seven minutes in length. How could anyone who enjoys my videos be so fucking stupid? I’d rather have one million of the most vitriolic invective-spewing detractors than even one stupid fan. 2. I spend about 24 . keen observer! How magnificent your perception must be to notice such a well-concealed characteristic! I am truly in awe of your perceptive abilities. I wonder why it is that they themselves use so much time that could be devoted to the aforementioned promiscuities to instead watching videos that they very apparently find distasteful or boring. Provided that the enemies are dragging around heavy briefcases with huge red lettering reading “TOP SECRET” stamped across the side. I should be drinking alcohol and having sexual intercourse with inebriated girls in an environment of negligible consequences. I get about 10 to 20 private messages on youtube per day and they fit into four basic categories. I would have done anything for even the smallest taste of fame. Comments can be checked at my convenience. Imagine the stupidest. If my presumption is correct. 5 minutes to upload. Just look at a few common comments I receive on any given video: “GET A LIFE!” What does that mean. you’ll undoubtedly perform all missions with an aptitude hitherto unheard of among government field agents.

I can’t see what in our relationship would lead you to the assumption that you have input on my content? Allow me to clear up this little misconception by stating definitively that I DO NOT GIVE A FUCK HOW I MAKE YOU LOOK. This could not be further from the truth. fap. “YOU CURSE TOO MUCH!” Fuck you. You never paid me to make my videos.minutes a day (on average--it’s often more of less) dedicated to my own videos. read. The fact that a person shares my lack of belief in the big G does spark a modicum of endearment in me. watch other people’s videos. But let’s say I spent an hour. In summary. “YOU MAKE ATHEISTS LOOK BAD!” Pardon the fuck out of me for not sticking to some lame ass party line at all times. listen to music. FUN FACT: Microsoft Works Word Processor tries to change “douchetard” to “documentary. That’s still 23 hours a day left to work. BUT I STILL THINK YOU SUCK!” What bearing does your disbelief in God have on your feelings towards me? This comment implies that I am seeking the approval of all my fellow non-believers or that I am of the position that I am entitled to the automatic support of atheists everywhere. then you can kiss every square centimeter of my golf ball-dimpled ass. fuck you too. but nothing that would sustain any lasting feelings of loyalty or friendship. .” “I’M AN ATHEIST. You never elected me. go out to eat or anything else that I feel like doing. I think you make yourself look stupid when you say otherwise. The fact that I deal with this shit on a daily basis would nominate me for sainthood in a world worth living in. I should be on the one dollar bill for the stupidity I have suffered at the hands of YouTubers with more spare time than good sense. buddy. I never hired you as a consultant. I have my own ideas and opinions—if that’s something you’re against. In other words. you’re a douchetard. go to movies. Personally.

” Clean floors. SHUT THE FUCK UP. No one cares what program the studio used to CG Tom Cruise into a non-midget. you didn’t want a good glimpse of my man meat? I apologize. Commercials? Not only do I have to sit through 20 minutes of trailers for shit that I wouldn’t see unless some malevolent force with a Clockwork Orange eye-pry setup decided otherwise—now I’ve also got to endure insipid advertisements that assure me that Coca-Cola is the solution to all my problems in life.50 for Twizzlers? Suck my fucking cock. AMC Theaters. SHUT THE FUCK UP. holding a door for some stranger who doesn’t even say thank you or give you a nod of respect of anything. I’d waggle my dick at them when they demanded to see me. Black people. but far enough behind you that you have to stand there for longer than is comfortable. $3. Who the fuck does he think he is? The way people act more repulsed by obese women then they actually are just to seem cool in the eyes of their friends.  People who demand their money back when the movie fucks up for 10 whole seconds. What the fuck is this shit? I like when I go to a movie theater and my foot sticks to the layer of congealed sugar (and semen?) on the floors. If you’re too stupid to figure it out. Stupid people who insist on using the automatic ticket machine. Are you gonna pat me down? I don’t think so. The characters can’t hear you. From your cock-hungry tone of voice. I’m going to tear off your legs and use them to plug up your fat mother’s used twat so that she can’t sick any more little fucktards like you on decent folk like myself.           . “Oh. You don’t need to explain the plot to whoever is sitting next to you. I’ll buy that shit at the drugstore for 99 cents and sneak it in. I thought that’s what you wanted. SHUT THE FUCK UP. The kid behind me. Why did you come to a movie just to talk to on your cell phones? SHUT THE FUCK UP.STUPID BULLSHIT THAT I FUCKING HATE At Movie Theaters  Snack prices and anyone dumb enough to pay them. wait in line with the rest of the dimwits. Dealing With People When someone is close enough behind you that you would feel impolite not holding the door for them. If you don’t stop kicking my chair. If I were the theater manager. Teenage girls. Old people. Movie geeks. I like the sound it makes and I like the way it feels.

“Who cares what Paris Hilton is doing! This isn’t news!” and then watch two hours of Paris Hilton coverage. Put my buttplug and SLUT paddle in the bag and hand me my receipt so I can go about my day—and don’t tell me to have a nice one. “I don’t fucking care!” at the top of my lungs. I haven’t had a nice day since 1995 and I don’t plan on repeating the experience any time soon. Her face is like a sack of moldy prunes that someone puked on. “Wow! You’re tall!” Wow! You’re stupid! Screaming kids. What a brave fucking stance on the issue.” Wow.” In The Media Princess Di. I’ll be impressed the day that someone says to me. A spoiled bitch went splat because she couldn’t handle the strain of being photographed on her way back to her mansion. Quit pointing it out as if you’re Noam fucking Chomsky just for being smart enough to notice. Small talk. That’s obvious. People who spout uncourageous and uncontroversial opinions as if they were cutting edge. Bill O’Reilly’s ratings are only as high as they are because people watch him as a comedy show. People who take my humor seriously and my seriousness as humor. Women who say things like. I laugh my ass off. And I don’t mean Bob Saget not funny or Andrew Dice Clay not funny. Babies. If someone put lipstick on a rattlesnake and gave me a choice between kissing Nancy Grace or the rattlesnake. Her voice is like the contents of a spittoon being lapped up by a dozen starving Chihuahuas. That’s pretty much all of you. I like Osama Bin Laden. “I don’t mean to be offensive. Fine. you ugly fucking cunt. Listening to someone’s problems and awkwardly feigning sympathy when all I want to do is scream. so quit shitting yourselves liberals. Nancy Grace is worse than every child molester she demonizes. Whenever I hear a story about some guy who raped a baby. Fox News has a conservative slant. “I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks. She’s not worth the salt of the tears wasted on her. but I don’t like Terrorists. Why is this guy called a comedian? That’s like calling a             . Al Franken is staring at a beige wall not funny. Who gives a fuck how I am today. you wasteful bastards.  People who point my height out to me. I’d tell the EMT to have some antivenom standing by. People who quit smoking and then tell everyone else how bad smoking is for you the next day as if they’ve never touched a cigarette in their lives. He just seems like the kind of guy I’d have a beer with. Al Franken isn’t funny. It’s bad enough that I have to be around obnoxious hordes of adults. Leave your spawn at home if they can’t handle the stress of being at Wal-Mart. I don’t need the ear-splitting bellyaching of brats too. I could have sprinkled that shit on my eggs.

 Fuck the Anniversary of some shit that happened once. Toothy blowjobs. Then get back to the real items of the day. It’s not like it’s an explosion of flesh in your mouth—you should be able to keep the teeth off of it. Do you mean to tell me that nothing else happens on September 11th but the anniversary of some planes crashing into a few buildings and offing a k’s worth of homo sapiens? That’s old news. Sing a song.    . We all remember it. bitch —because that’s what I want from you. Those of us who don’t are either stupid or Alzheimer’s patients. Too often I’ll go on the internet and visit the websites of dommes who think that they’re going to set up a matriarchal utopia where men are their servants. Not having had enough sex in my life to actually make this list a decent length. You know.dog that laps up it’s own sick a chef. Nature has seen to it that I could smack you in the face and tell you to piss off if I so chose. Supply and demand. That’s all. Look it up. bitch. You provide a service. What the hell? My dick is tiny. In The Bedroom Dommes with delusions of grandeur. You spank my ass for one reason and one reason only. Light a candle. important stuff like Paris Hilton’s latest public display of gross insipience.

the moral majority doesn’t care what happens to people after they’re out of the womb. properly trussed. it can eat a baby. this game is played on a wide. However. PENNY You could drop a penny off the empire state building. when using a brat for your shot. then allow me to remind you that babies are nothing but bug-eyed little doughy sacks of perpetually leaking piss and shit that adults have tricked themselves into finding adorable. grassy field. sure. SNAKE FOOD If it can eat a bunny. can you really afford to be tossing pennies off skyscrapers or into wishing wells like you used to? The solution is obvious—babies instead of pennies—everyone loves that delightful SPLAT! they make. honestly?) babies are roughly the same size as Thanksgiving turkeys. “But. Luckily for us. . Amazing Atheist. they’re human beings!” So were the Nazis. I recommend a debris-strewed alleyway—the rats and pigeons will take care of cleanup. an otherwise typical game of drunken backyard football with the guys can be livened up considerably by substituting Junior for the ball. Play until the ball gets limp. THANKSGIVING DINNER In case you haven’t noticed (and who hasn’t. That’s good eatin’! FOOTBALL This gives a whole new meaning to playing catch with your son! Though heavier and less wieldy than the old pig skin. stops crying and is cold to the touch. Besides. can make a delicious meal for you and your family. seeing that their older sibling wound up a cherub on the mantle will get them to bite their insolent little tongues. SHOT PUT The premise of the game is exceedingly simple—you just throw the shot (usually a small metal ball weighing around 8 lbs. she’ll be better off as a cup holder than a stripper (you’re a shitty parent—all your kids will wind up in sex industry jobs if you let them grow up). But why waste money? With gas prices how they are and the stock market’s recent instability. DECORATIONS Take little Sally on a trip to the taxidermist! Trust me. Those unwanted November tots. so here are some fun uses for those unaborted babies guaranteed not to rile any religious zealots with their gears stuck in the 12th century. if you ever decide to keep a kid for some reason. Are you pro-Nazi? Racist. Normally.AMUSING ALTERNATIVES TO ABORTION For some reason.) as far as you can. If you are offended by this list. Christians have gotten it in their heads that God doesn’t want us vacuuming fetuses right out of the womb before they have a chance to drive everyone batshit with their unending chorus of highpitched mewling.

the man who loves the whole world by hating himself. right? What the fuck does it matter in the long run? We're all just biding our time until the day we become corpses. Thompson blew his brains out on my birthday. how death is getting nearer and nearer. We have so long fought against it with fanciful notions of an afterlife that is far better than our small lives here on earth. It's odd. . But.” It’s close. because sometimes I feel like I'm somewhere in between the two—part brooding loner. Can one declare them self such a thing. Fucking idiots! Eh. and it lacks the poetry and irony of Cobain's. My writing lacks the fire of Thompson's. and it’s forever. the idea that it's in my hands is even worse in many ways.” It isn’t “just a transition. It's a cruelty of nature that a being should have to understand the concept of death. Everything we do from the cradle forth is just a distraction from the grave. "This is all you get. I bet you feel stupid for paying 20 dollars for this. a way of denying how fragile our lives are. which is also Kurt Cobain's birthday. or is that for the people to decide? I’d hate to think that it's in the hands of such a small-minded bunch of miserable cretins. but it's naked and self-revealing in the same way theirs were." are the most hopeless words that could ever be spoken in the ears of most people. cheer up! It's all good. Death is not “far away. This is such livejournal shit. I feel like I'm the heir to that throne sometimes—the suicide genius.I WANT TO KILL MYSELF WHEN I GROW UP Hunter S. part raging truthseeker.

but it’s not a certainty. Given the same facts about his life. He told me that as a child everyone had expected wondrous feats from him. often with his mouth full. We see him overcome obstacles and earn his place as one of the most famous musicians of all time. We call this illusion self. great warriors. Nor is it simply the culmination of our talents. but was Ray Charles’ life a story? I’d say no. for instance. We see him innovating music. but often obliquely. however. Any semblance of order in our pasts—the notion that every event is linked in some fatalistic way to every preceding and following event—is an illusion manufactured by our needy consciousnesses. It had been an accomplishment—his defiant middle-finger to the tyranny of his own expected greatness. for him. not long after seeing his brother drown. We are all. the pride in his voice was unmistakable. for certain. Events lead to other events. My contention is that our lives are meandering and plotless. This he spoke with sorrow. Does it tell a story? Certainly the events are causally related. We give our lives all the trimmings of a myth and then believe that myth as devoutly as any religious person believes in their whacky dogma. had imagined him as a world conquering go-getter. actions have reactions. I started trying to make the money back. If I had not been born. tells the life story of Ray Charles. I could not have been raised. I made some money. we learn that Ray lost his vision as a small child. Cause and effect are at work in our lives. they are not stories in and of themselves. a matter of our thoughts and ideas alone.Whence Cometh Evil? Cody Weber’s hair was blond the week that I went to visit him in the dirty little Midwest town of Keokuk. From the movie. let’s look at some men whose lives have been adapted into stories. The movie leads us to draw a conclusion that if Ray’s brother hadn’t drowned. We see his marital infidelities. So why does my life only have the illusion of a storyline? For the answer. . Cause and effect are present. idealized and edited together to make the audience draw conclusions that would not be entirely apparent if we were privy to all the events that occurred in the vast gulf of years between them. I got a job. If I’d not lost all my money. I was raised. I lazed about for a while. Failure. We see him learning to play music. listening to him with what I imagine was a bemused grin. about his favorite subject: failure. Identity is the illusion that our lives have a storyline. misunderstood prophets. had been no accident. The movie was a story. There is (or will be) a middle. The movie Ray. a famous singer and musician. “If only Hitler had gotten into art school. unappreciated visionaries. talking. He shoveled eggs into his mouth under the harsh light of the truckstop diner. I think. I was born. It occurred to me. within our own minds. defiant rebels or any number of other archetypal heroes. People often say. that we all craft a narrative for ourselves. This might be true. that who we are can be found in what we’ve been through. There will be an end. If I’d not gone to school. Iowa.” What if he had? Who’s to say that he wouldn’t have still perpetrated the evil that he did? He might have quit art school after a year and then found himself shortly thereafter on the same path that he would have taken had he been rejected. I went to school. I quit school. You’ve just read about my 23 years of life on this planet in one small paragraph. When he came to the part where their fantasies of him all crumbled to the dust of disappointment. I’d have never quit school. different writers and directors could tell entirely different stories. We see him falling in love. I lost the money. and though they certainly contain stories. He spoke of how he was destined to be someone greater than the pallid lad sitting before me. Ray would never have become the genius that he was. There is a beginning. Identity is not. These moments we see in the film have been embellished. We see his struggles with drug addiction. opinions and idiosyncrasies. I’d not be trying to remake it.

My friend Cody views himself as a heroic failure who bucked everyone’s expectations of him and broke free of the shackles of their ambitions for him. Let’s look at the facts from which this archetypal Cody Weber was drawn (We can’t really know these to be facts, because they were relayed to us by a biased party, but we will not presume Cody a liar): 1. 2. Cody was expected to do well in life. Cody did not do well in life.

Based upon just these two facts, we can make Cody Weber fit any number of archetypes. We can make him a hero who stood up against the role others were trying to impose on him. We can make him a weakling who buckled under the pressure of those who wanted him to achieve great things. We can make him an ingrate who spurned the love and support of his family out of pure spite. We can make him a spoiled brat who glutted himself on everyone’s love and admiration to the point that he took it for granted. How can we know which of these are true? How can we know if any of them are true? Surely there is a cause for what Cody perceives to be his failure—but why is it necessarily to be found in the support of his family? Perhaps it was caused by a chemical imbalance or an event that no one would think to tie to said failure? Further, how do we know—and how does Cody really know, for that matter—that his family really did expect a lot of him or that he really is a failure? In the former case, memory has been shown to be far less reliable than we would comfortably be able to admit and in the later case his failure is contingent upon his personal definition of the word. Those who admire his brilliant photography certainly do not view him as a failure. Under scrutiny, our narratives fall apart. They are our fragile and inadequate attempts to bully our lives into making sense. We haven’t the proper tools to make any real sense of things. Our memories are shoddy, our objectivity in matters of self is dubious and the effects we assign to certain causes are likely more often wrong than not. If my original precept that identity is largely derived from our narrative for ourselves holds true under scrutiny, then in diminishing the veracity of said narrative, I have also dealt a blow to our current concept of identity. I think that this is far too counterintuitive to have any real impact on our perceptions of self, but if it can be accepted as truth, then I think there is a great deal of freedom (and danger) to be found in it. To say that perception is truth is something of a banal cliché at this point, but to assert that how we choose to perceive the events of our lives can actually change our identity entirely would give us the ability to control who we are (at least in our own eyes) to an extent rarely dreamed possible in the age of genetic determinism. To clarify, I don’t believe that these perceptions can turn someone who is by almost all accounts a villain into a hero, only that it can make such a person believe that he or she is heroic. Of course, villains throughout the ages have always fancied themselves heroes—this is nothing new. Hitler did not see an evil man in the mirror. The difference in my line of thinking is that it makes such delusions permissible by their ubiquity. In other words, if all men are delusional in regards to their self, then who can say that one man’s delusion is any less or more untrue than any other man’s delusion? By what means, if my reasoning holds largely cogent, would we be able to dispute a villain’s claims of heroism or a failure’s perception of success? If identity is delusion, then all perception is undermined and no ethical barometer can be said to possess any objectivity since the good guys are only good in their heads and the bad guys are probably good in theirs as well. Some will here make the argument that ethics lay outside the will and that good guys are good regardless of their perception of themselves and that acts of evil are evil regardless of whether or not evil was the intent of the malefactor who perpetrated them. If God is that outside force, that non-human moral barometer, than I would like to see proof not only of him but proof of his will. And if that nonhuman mechanism of morality is not God then what is it?

Richard Dawkins, the famed evolutionary biologist and an outspoken advocate of atheism and rationality, outlined in his best-selling work The God Delusion, his evolutionary explanation for the origin of morality and ethics. He explains how things like kin selection and game theory have imbued man with a natural sense of right and wrong. While I don’t disagree with his assertions, I have to ask why a moral code that evolved is one that need be followed? We evolved instincts towards violence and, if the God gene hypothesis is correct, belief itself—and yet no thinking person views non-violence or non-belief as impossible (and only a strange few thinking people find them immoral). An evolved or natural morality is a morality that can be challenged on an intellectual basis in the same way that the value of an evolved predilection towards violence or endocannibalism or rape as a means of reproduction can be challenged. Any evolved social trait can be challenged. No evolutionary biologist that I have ever heard of has made or provided evidence for the assertion that evolution is infallible or has our happiness at heart. So, if Hitler views himself a good man and no concrete ethical code exists to contradict his goodness, then can we say that our mass perception of him as a villain overrides 1930’s Germany’s perception of him as a hero? Or his perception of himself as such? Returning to Cody, does it matter how much his admirers view him as a genius when he views his own work as ugly and wholly lacking in beauty (as he once confessed to me)? I think that it doesn’t. I think that a billion voices telling a man who believes he is Thing A that he is actually Thing B are useless if that man’s perception of himself is unshakable. If a genocidal maniac is called evil, he can always escape into a more comfortable identity. I’m not evil, he might tell himself, I’m misunderstood. I’m heroically doing what I know is right, even though the odds are against me. I’m reluctantly doing what is necessary to create a better future. I am a visionary. Our disgust with such people and what we perceive as their shoddy justifications for their evil actions is nearly universal. Few human beings on this planet today are not aghast at genocide and contemptuous of genocidal maniacs. We so deeply feel this repulsion towards mass violence that any belief system that doesn’t hold such people as objectively vile seems unpalatable to many of us, myself included. I just can’t see a way around it, however. I’ll restate my logic from start to finish in the briefest terms possible and hopefully someone can provide me the solace of showing me where I am mistaken. 1. Identity is based largely on the illusion of a narrative and the establishment of an archetype of self within that narrative. 2. This narrative is erroneous in every single human being. 3. It is impossible to object to a delusional perception of self in another human being when one’s own perception of one’s own self is demonstrably delusional as well. To do so would be an act of hypocrisy and inconsistent with the hitherto defined parameters of human discourse. In other words, the pot cannot call the kettle black (the kettle remains black, but the pot’s blackness negates this criticism or makes it universal and thus pragmatically irrelevant). 4. Because delusion is invariable and presumably inescapable, no one sense of self can be seen as superior in veracity to another. 5. An evil man who perceives himself as good cannot be contradicted by other men (for reasons explained in supposition #3) or by an established system of ethics because ethics is either derived from a. man, who is delusional and cannot rightly judge other men’s deluded narratives. b. God, who cannot be verified to exist. Even if we simply made the huge assumption of his existence, his will regarding our behavior (if he even has one) would not be readily known to us. c. Nature, which can be disputed, as shown by all manner of precedent. It’s hardly original to argue against a concrete good and evil, but surely in the face of genocide and mass murder, we would be better served if such an objective morality (or ethical truth if you prefer) was somehow in place. We find ourselves in an unenviable position. We can choose to persist in the deluded view of moral certitudes and objective right and wrong or we can accept that no such thing exists and attempt to justify

our persecution of evil in other ways.

Honor: Another String Tied To The Human Marionette, Nothing More.
A friend of mine said of me recently, “I'm friends with TJ for the same reason people keep snakes as pets —the snake is fun and cool and really interesting to watch, but of course you don’t expect to get any warmth or compassion from it.” He went on to say that I possess an “utter lack of humanity.” Should such a thing bother me? I must admit that I have long been aware that I lack certain sentiments that seem to widely characterize my species, but I’ve never thought of myself as lacking humanity. I seceded from it, sure. But that’s just a cute thing to say to make everyone say, “Wow, that guy sure is hardcore!” and cream their jeans in unrestrained admiration for my greatness. I must confess though, I do find many human conventions quite antiquated and wholly unworthy of the attention of 21st century people. Honor, for instance, that long revered staple of masculinity and masculine values, holds no weight at all with me. I find myself bizarrely perplexed when others expect me to be beholden to it. A recent example involves a bet that I made with a YouTube user going by the moniker of BigEvasive. BigEvasive was looking very forward to this year’s summer blockbuster The Incredible Hulk, which was a franchise reboot of director Ang Lee’s 2003 flop Hulk. I told him that, in my opinion, The Hulk was a stupid character and it didn’t really matter who directed or acted in a film about him, because the source material is simply not of sufficient quality to inspire anything but a mediocre film. This argument eventually turned into a bet that The Incredible Hulk would far surpass “Hulk” in critical accolades. For our wager we used the critical consensus site Rotten Tomatoes, which compiles hundreds of film reviews, categorizes them into two classes—fresh and rotten—then averages them out in order to come up with a rough over-all picture of what critics thought of any given film. “Hulk” had received a freshness rating of 61%, which meant that 61% of the reviews that Rotten Tomatoes had compiled had given the film a positive review. In order for BigEvasive to win the bet, “The Incredible Hulk” had to surpass the original by a statistically significant margin. We determined the margin to be 5 percentage points. In other words, it had to receive a freshness rating of 66% or higher in order for him to win the bet. The stakes were that if he lost, I had to paint myself green and make a video where I behaved like The Incredible Hulk. If he lost, he had to dress as Marilyn Monroe and sing Happy Birthday To You to me. “The Incredible Hulk” opened and reached a freshness rating of 68% . I had lost the bet. Now it was time to pay up. Or was it? BigEvasive was located all the way in Canada and I knew him well enough to know he was too chickenshit to really put me in any sort of difficult position if I neglected to fulfill my end of the bargain. Honor never factored into my decision to “welch” on our bet. I didn’t feel that warm and tingly masculine ethic tugging at my heartstrings, informing my conscience that I would be diminished in some profound way if I didn’t paint myself green and gallivant around smashing things in the fashion of a third-rate comic book character. As ridiculous and sophomoric as the whole situation was, the small backlash that it inspired set my mind to wondering as to the exact nature of honor. It’s a word that we all hear tossed around a lot, but I for one have never had the concept explained to me. Consulting the dictionary was useless. It contained 13 separate definitions of the word, all of which fell staggeringly short of encapsulating the word as it is most commonly used. It became obvious that if I wanted a definition to the word honor, I’d have to figure it out myself. I started by Googling the word by itself and seeing what came up. Wikipedia’s entry was meaningless, other than some interesting etymological notes. What caught my eye were pages pertaining to the Medal of Honor, which is the absolute highest decoration offered by the US military. It is given to a soldier if he (or she, I suppose) distinguished himself "…conspicuously by gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while engaged in an action against an enemy of the United States."

Let’s dissect that, shall we? In other words, the military defines honor as risking your life to kill people in service to them. Not just risking your life though—because all soldiers do that. You have to pretty much walk into certain death (when it’s not even necessary or expected of you) to get awarded a Medal of Honor. As I went further and further down the list I discovered samurai codes of honor, honor killings and other specific examples of honor—but mostly I waded through the endless litany of fluff surrounding the word. After about an hour of research and a number of days spent in contemplation, I drew this conclusion: honor is nothing more than strict adherence to a completely arbitrary code of conduct. The more strictly you follow the code, the more honor you have. The more staunchly you interpret the code, the more honor you have. Honor and obedience are remarkably interchangeable concepts. Allow me to demonstrate: She has dishonored our faith by not entering into an arranged marriage. Sheila has disobeyed our faith by not entering into an arranged marriage. Lieutenant Gilroy behaved dishonorably when he gave our position to the enemy. Lieutenant Gilroy behaved disobediently when he gave our position to the enemy. The fact that I would not paint myself green to fulfill my end of a bet shows that I have no honor. The fact that I would not paint myself green to fulfill my end of a bet shows that I have no obedience (to the system of betting and bet fulfillment). Once one comes to the understanding that honor is nothing more than adherence to a particular code of conduct, one is less inclined to lament its absence in one’s self. I have never fancied myself an obedient person and I have little in the way of tolerance for those who do. I adhere to no code of honor because to do so would be to dishonor myself. Many will make the argument that strict adherence to certain social codes are a necessity to facilitate a stable society. These people are the unwisest of souls—those who have not yet realized that we must be bound together by our common ideas, not made common by the act of binding ourselves to the ideas imposed upon us by a given overlord. In other words, we must unite around our goals, not expect our goals to unite us. The concept of honor, as I have adequately defined it, is inarguably a detriment to the end goal of getting humans to acknowledge existent harmony rather than strive for artificial harmony through the coerced recognition of codes of conduct that expand well beyond what any given individual would acknowledge as necessary. Honor has long been a tool to keep those who benefit from obedience (namely, those who are obeyed) in control. We are essentially beings who, in our boundless capacity for delusion, stitch random events, emotions and sensations together into a tapestry called “identity.” We reinforce our narrative by comparing it to the equally flawed narratives of our fellow human beings. Those who reinforce our narratives are friends. Those who contradict our narratives are enemies. Thus, the currency of other people’s opinions is vital to our sense of cohesion. This is why loners are often incomprehensible; It’s because without the steady influence and reinforcement of the tribe, their narratives topple in on themselves or becomes muddled and idiosyncratic. Those in power—CEO’s, Senators, Celebrities, Journalists—are all what I’d like to term “super-reinforcers.” Super-reinforcers are those who have enough influence to propagate a particular narrative over a larger sphere of human beings than typical reinforcers. For example, your friend who agrees with you that your girlfriend is a skank because she cheated on you is a reinforcer, because he is supporting your narrative. If you watch a TV show where a girl who

but they’re likely reinforcing the narratives of thousands of people who are or have been or will be in your situation. “good. Honor uses reverence as a currency—those who adhere to the given code are given ample amounts of reverence. one will seem dishonorable. According to a leading website on honor killings “Over 5. And apparently. when a politician or a commentator gets on the airwaves and starts weeping and wailing that honor is a dead concept here in America. but that she acted out because you neglected her. Religions have codes. Those who do not adhere are given none of the currency of reverence. more than the pain of any indiscretion. Her friends will support this idea and there are plenty of TV shows. It promises to turn all perception against you if you behave disobediently. that will drive you apart. you will not reinforce each other’s narratives. This sometimes culminates in a sickening ritual. called honor killings. would murder his own daughter because she was raped? A religious one. denigrated and despised by the people. movies. and if one doesn’t adhere to those codes. This is why honor is such an effective control mechanism.000 families each year. in fact. It is this. according to the UN. my response is. or as innocent as suffering rape” What man. These crimes occur where cultures believe that a woman's unsanctioned sexual behavior brings such shame on the family that any female accused or suspected must be murdered.000 women and girls are killed every year by family members in so-called 'honor killings'. Your girlfriend meanwhile. Unfortunately because your narrative casts her as a slut who can’t say no to any offer of cock and her narrative casts you as a cold and distant shell of a man who is incapable of love. It is natural to feel affection towards those who reinforce your ideas about yourself. When you replace your own will and desire with another man’s will or desire solely to maintain honor in the eyes of others. for 5. seeks out her friends to assure her that she is not a skank. the loss of daughter seems a small price to pay to avoid the loss of honor. It says to you—if you deviate from our idea of good. Reasons for these murders can be as trivial as talking to a man.” When the reverence of others is more important to people than their own loved ones. So. Honor killings are when a female is murdered by her family for dishonoring the code of their religion . then you will be devoid of reinforcers. something sick is happening. books and role-model super-reinforcers to back up her narrative as well.cheats on her boyfriend under similar circumstances as those in your life then everyone involved in that TV show is a super-reinforcer because they not only reinforced your notion that your girlfriend is a skank. They are. Honor has the right to exist only as a guideline. practiced mostly by Muslims. you have become a puppet. You’ve allowed your own dissent to be weaponized against you and you have undermined your individuality. Where’s the honor in that? . other than a violent sociopathic. pinning you to your own ethical standards.

Intellectuals may oft lament the limited long-term planning abilities of their fellow human beings. a number of famous authors. Even in recent times. 1. This is not an original observation by any stretch of even the imagination. I must still begrudgingly admit that it’s a good thing that they exist. 2. They cook our burgers. but the principle is the same. Stupid people serve a number of vital functions in our society. Pundits and other assorted fuckwits have yammered on about our culture of “instant gratification” for as long as I can remember. Intelligence is a lot more complex a trait then eye color. saying “fuck you!” to our future livers. but both my brother and I do. 49% of all pregnancies in America were unintended . That sounds good on the surface. Neither my mother nor my father had blue eyes. If we assume that those 49% of Americans in 2001 hadn’t had their babies because they were smart people who were able to plan ahead and realize they couldn’t afford kids. From that pursuit of tiny happiness comes massive misery! We drink now. We’re always willing to make the worst bargain in the world: a little bit of here-and-now-joy for a heaping helping of down-and-out-misery down the road. there are only half as many chances of some asshole hitting the genetic lottery and becoming the next Richard Dawkins. Now before you make the argument that those 49% of babies that were unplanned are the offspring of people too dumb to take even the slightest precautions against pregnancy (and.Instant Gratification This section is dedicated to Scotty and Evelyn. Genes that are dormant in two stupid people could become active in the offspring of said people and result in a child smarter than the dumb asses that spawned it. lay our . It’s my belief that people are basically selfish to the point of self-defeat. In 2001. then half of the 7-year-olds annoying the piss out of you today wouldn’t be alive. Not once have I heard a man or woman give thanks to our tendency to make the devil’s deal of short term pleasure at the cost of long-term contentment. where powerful chemical impulses can overcome our better judgment like a hurricane can overcome flimsy lawn furniture. we don’t give a tall glass of fuck that our children might grow up in a world made of shit and smoke. We smoke now. The reason for this is because we both received a recessive gene from each parent to “give” us blue eyes. resulting in diseases to wipe us out and in kids we can’t afford (because we spend all our money on worthless impulse buys that consistently fail to live up to their promises of making our lives complete). The benefits of our instant gratification tendency. respectively the smartest and cutest accidents I know. The continuation of the human race is. As a man who hates babies and usually cares even less for the adults that they grow into. are largely unsung. The first and most obvious thing that IGT provides for us are children. It is perfectly possible for intelligent people to fall victim to the powerful force of IGT. 3. So why am I bothering to harp on this old and established bit of cynicism? Because I aim to defend it. We can prove this by looking at the number of exceptional geniuses throughout history who have contracted sexually transmitted diseases. It is perfectly possible for two unintelligent people to produce intelligent offspring. where condoms are readily available to all. I’d remind you of three important facts. As individuals we have unprotected sex. a good thing. Salvador Dali or Steven Spielberg. STDs) and are therefore almost certainly idiots themselves whose children are likely to be as dumb as their parents. As a species we pollute our planet because cars and factories are spiffy conveniences. We do this for nothing more than a single moment of bliss—an orgasm lasting no longer than a few seconds. even in the eyes of a misanthropist like me. but rarely have I heard folks extol the many virtues of our widespread inability to prioritize on a large timescale. film and literary critics contracted the AIDS virus . playwrights. hereafter referred to as IGT. but consider this: if half the people alive didn’t exist. saying “eat shit!” to our future lungs. we can extrapolate. that in their attempts to secure their personal happiness they destroy everything that could ever bring them happiness. especially in the area of sex.

who has survived to the miserable old age of 96. Thanks to IGT. thermal imagining. heart-disease and lung cancer. but if not for our reckless use of oil and petroleum based products. ensuring that we have a stable population even in this age of easy contraception. Why? Because my aunt is such a slut that she probably cheated on her husband. Velcro. In my grandma’s senile and faltering old brain that doesn’t just call the paternity of my cousin into question.brick and keep comedians like Adam Sandler and Larry The Cable Guy successful. please shoot me. Thankfully. Just recently my great grandma. I will likely die with my wits intact and my family will be able to remember me as a mean-spirited old fucker who hated everyone and was damned hilarious. . yet plenty of MENSA members are still going to need Double-Decker Taco Supremes and Cinnamon Twists—so let’s all agree that idiots in this country. prosthetic limb advancements and even the computer networking techniques that eventually led to the creation of the internet were all designed or perfected by the military for the purpose of being more effective as a killing machine. pull their weight. Another advantage of IGT keeping us from living too long is that far less of us survive into senility than medical science. If the overpopulation fears of alarmist liberals are anything to worry about. we would lack a great deal of the scientific and technological sophistication that we possess today. we’d likely not be as far along in our research of alternative energy because our frugality in the face of a crisis would have had us managing our oil better and using it longer. though unpleasant company. told my gay uncle that she doubted that my aunt’s daughter was really my aunt’s. Microwaves. combined with reasonable health awareness. my proclivity for donuts and cheese and processed meats to the disregard of my health will likely send me to an early grave like my father before me. perhaps there is something of an argument to be made for benefits of personal IGT. ought to rightfully allow us to do. which has lead us to a number of auxiliary revelations about how our whole ecosystem works. You may be saying at this point. but on a societal level. “Okay. This spares us from the worst years of our lives. IGT may well be the sole stabilizing force of our population! It keeps us breeding and it keeps us dying. Aviation technology has been pushed forward more by war and the need to stay ahead of enemy competition than it has out of love of science. but her maternity as well! I hate to spout a tough guy cliché. it’s all bad news!” I will grant you that IGT creates problems like global warming and peak oil. No one with an IQ west of 110 is going to want to work the register at Taco Bell. Scientific discovery and innovation have always been driven by crises. then I’ll point out that IGT also keeps us dying at a healthy rate from preventable things like STDs. If it weren’t for the global warming problem we’d not have poured nearly as much many into climate science. but if I’m ever that old and stupid. IGT keeps us cranking out kids. IGT is a force that creates problems that only science can fix—it is my contention that the two things are symbiotic and that if we were a species less prone to getting into mischief.

which is to keep the population dull and complacent. is never the ideal that they themselves live by. sometimes-comedian and freedomadvocate on the popular internet website YouTube . wherein everything and everyone is for sale. People. The American dream being. the most unforgivable and incomprehensible outrage. and I guarantee you'll hear about them. only when it is directed towards their ideal. It’s the ideal that most conveniences them to have others live by. feel that his mentality is a threat to the American dream. Our admiration is permissible. than any life of comfort. Someone who takes an undemanding job because it affords him the time to pursue other interests and activities is considered a flake. Despite all of our programming to the contrary. if ever. I do not perceive that sort of integrity in myself and allusions to such integrity would be illusions. some subtle and some not. In this culture. on a subconscious level. Honor has essentially exploited our tendency to admire those of great resolve by standardizing morality. In a culture that relentlessly promotes avarice and excess as the good life. Only people disconnected enough from any sense of self to watch MTV would be undiscerning enough to inhale the glut of insipid and intoxicating miasma known to mankind simply as “commercials. making fat sums of money. However. Bill Watterson is a strange breed of person. many human beings can still recognize genuine integrity when they see it—which is why occasionally the powerful let someone with genuine integrity infiltrate the mainstream. who you are. You'll be told in a hundred ways. to keep climbing. if not a subversive. I think this vile tendency emerged quite naturally over the course of our social evolution and have rarely. When Steven Spielberg called Bill because he was interested in making a Calvin & Hobbes movie.” Honor is used to teach us who to admire and who to revile. Their ideal. What upsets the powerful more than anything about Watterson’s case is that to berate him openly would have displayed to the whole world what they really were. When he refused to license his characters (all those truck decals you see with Calvin peeing on rival truck brands were made without licensing) to make a profit. of course. Usually they do it . the creator of the comic strip Calvin & Hobbes which ran from 1985 to 1995." Those are the words of Bill Watterson. it can only be overcome with cognition. Watterson’s immense and incorruptible virtue does not mean that I lack all virtue or that I cannot recognize the validity of his virtuousness or admire the strength of his convictions. and never be satisfied with where you are. where art is nothing more than a product to be cynically peddled to the masses for a little capital gain. There is a good reason why so few films financed by major studios encourage introspection—it is subconsciously perceived as detrimental to the agenda of the corporations. a person happy doing his own work is usually considered an eccentric. Bill just turned him down flat. in the eyes of the powerful. Those who adhere to the social codes for their given class—99% of celebrities and athletes—are admired and revered because of the misdirection of our natural love of those with strong convictions towards those who have only the strong convictions approved by those in power. As much as I adore and admire his resolve. That’s incredible. and what you're doing. been conscious acts of malevolence. it should be noted. Let me say here that I don’t for a moment believe in the idea of CEO’s and Politicians as archvillains dividing and conquering the populace with ingenious deceptions and carefully-crafted propaganda. just because I lack Mr. just as I have gotten a great many people to admire the strength of my various convictions by becoming a public-speaker. shunning greed is the utmost sin. Those in power despise with infinite vitriol the Bill Watterson’s of the world because the ethic that he exhibits is not conducive to their vision of utopia. Ambition is only understood if it's to rise to the top of some imaginary ladder of success. A person who abandons a career in order to stay home and raise children is considered not to be living up to his potential-as if a job title and salary are the sole measure of human worth. And because this tendency has been hardwired into us by evolution.Obey Your Master "Creating a life that reflects your values and satisfies your soul is a rare achievement. he was essentially making the statement that the integrity of his artistic creation was more valuable than any sum of money. There are a million ways to sell yourself out.

The drug dealer peddles his wares to drug users who have a choice—they can choose to take drugs or not to take drugs. that the day is fast approaching when few people will recognize true integrity and the powerful will be in the position to oppose it openly. The elections that they hold are nothing more than a means of placating you with fake freedom. if you sat most of Americans down and said. The state can decide what’s best for us. take our money to create weapons for our soldiers to use to attack countries that we have nothing against.to 2. The “pursuit of happiness” that our founders felt important enough to call an inalienable right in The Declaration of Independence is now viewed as evil by the majority of Americans. viewed by the King and Queen as wholly expendable . as Chris Rock so astutely pointed out.” When you allow yourself to be fodder for the wars of powerful men. if not a subversive.000-year-old desert scribblings of Jewish nomads. “Fight or go to prison” is the choice they give us. make the urges of a murderer evil—they’re simply not pragmatic. The enterprising young businessman in the slums who tries to make money selling drugs that the US government doesn’t approve of will find himself crushed beneath police truncheons because. cannot possible fix the problem as long as the individual of integrity is successful. then said murderer can pursue his happiness without violating the right to another’s happiness.” What freedom? Their freedom to tell you what to do? Their freedom to conscript you into an army and make you kill your fellow man for the sake of a cause that you’ll never understand? Their freedom to send you to your death the moment that your death will fatten their pockets in the slightest? You are not free as long as you are the property of a God or a government. To do so would be to declare themselves open enemies of true integrity and undermine their unquestioned authority. those who truly pursue happiness are cast in a villainous light. You are pawns on a chessboard. however. one who wishes to by killed because he is tired of life (or for some other reason). when they’ve realized their mistake. the well-connected or those willing to sell their souls for table scraps from the big corporate banquet. they’ve no qualms about ordering citizens to fight in their wars.” What merely seems eccentric today may be called subversive tomorrow. you are not well-armed sheep contesting the result. We are viewed by a great many as property of a God whose will is known to us only through the 5. Of course.000. despite their slave-owning hypocrisy. If happiness is to truly be an inalienable right than laws must only be passed and enforced when the cost of one man’s happiness is the destruction of another man’s will. Liberty is a well armed sheep contesting the result. If the murder finds a willing victim. It’s as Bill said. whilst strategically keeping you from the historical understanding of what true freedom entails. We are here making the assumption that our lives are the property of our selves—which is the assumption that our founders. made when they founded this country of rugged individualists who reviled the authority of the crown of England. Others see us as belonging to the state. “A person happy doing his own work is usually considered an eccentric. And what is merely subversive today may become unforgivable tomorrow. You are only free when you are the master of your fate and the captain of your soul. This does not. It is as Benjamin Franklin once said: “Democracy is three wolves and a sheep voting on dinner. however. This idea is contrary to all presently popular socio-theological-political models. “Do you believe in the pursuit of happiness?” they’d nod their empty heads until the sound of the spare change rattling around in their skulls gave you a migraine—yet. The pursuit of happiness cannot only be for the rich. Our lives are seen by those who subscribe to this ludicrous fairytale as nothing more than kindling to stoke the fires of Hell or drones whose sole purpose is to act out the will of their fictional deity. I fear. And if too many of our soldiers die.” I would substitute the word “normal” instead of the “white” but otherwise have no qualms with his statement.on accident and. The murderer’s right to the pursuit of happiness must be alienable to safeguard to inalienable rights of others. The murderer’s victims have no choice—which is why murder must remain illegal. “Only the white man is allowed to profit from other people’s pain. all while claiming that we’re fighting for “freedom.

from a larger strategic perspective. If you kill enough for them and are brave and selfless (what a terrible thing to be) enough for them, you could win a Medal of Honor. You could be a hero, like Ira Hayes who raised the flag at Iwo Jima in that famous picture and died drunk face down in a ditch lying in his own vomit and blood a number of years later. The currency of honor does not buy a means to the pursuit of happiness. Rather, it further indebts you to your owners—the CEO, the senator, the judges and cops and prison guards. And they’ve shown— from their inability to take care of the heroes at Iwo Jima or the heroes of 9/11 —that no matter how much you give them, they won’t give anything back. The people are told to be selfless while the politicians, justice system officials and corporate cocksuckers are free to be selfish. You’re told to not pursue your happiness, while they whip your backs bloody and sustain themselves on your blood like the vampiric assholes they are. And if you complain about your lot in life and demand your fair share of the pie, they start whining about their rights. They talk about the fruits of their labor, while you’re the one working in the factory and they’re the ones shuffling papers in an air-conditioned office making huge salaries. They call you a socialist, as if the word itself were an instant argument winner because they’ve imagined and sold you a consensus that says “socialism is bad” and socialism means whatever they want it to mean. They know that you don’t know what it means and use your ignorance to control you.

“Honor” Thyself
Without reinforcers of any kind, our idiosyncrasies compound to the point that we are no longer able to function in normal society. We are social animals who need the approval of our fellow beings to maintain a coherent sense of self. Conversely, if we play by the rules and allow ourselves to be influenced by others, we find ourselves to victims of the nightmares of the pecking order. In 1921 a Norwegian zoologist named Thorleif Schjelderup-Ebbe (don’t worry, I can’t pronounce it either) discovered a strange behavior exhibited by chickens during their feeding time. The weaker birds would refuse to eat until the stronger birds had their fill. He called this occurrence the pecking order and it occurs in all animals in one form or another—the perceived weak willfully succumb to the perceived strong. In nature, the behavior that lends itself most to social advancement is aggressiveness. The willingness to relentlessly attack all those who oppose you makes you dangerous and will, even in our supposedly enlightened species, bring you to power. Have you ever wondered why loan sharks kill those who cannot pay them? Surely a living man is always more likely to repay a loan than a dead one! It’s not a necessity of their business, but it is a necessity of their perceived dominance within the territories under their control. Criminals conduct themselves in this fashion because they have not yet socially evolved to the point where they’ve recognized the power of reinforcer-denial as an even more potent control mechanism than old-school brutality. Many government (and aspiring governments) in countries that we (in all of our American arrogance) label “underdeveloped” or “the third world” still enforce their dictates with the sloppy and outmoded use of physical violence. We are not the least bit better than any of these countries in most respects. Our sole advantage is that we have devised a more cunning thing to take away from people than their lives. We take away their ability to regulate their self-image through the social and cultural reinforcement of their personal narratives. We steal their identities. The only possible means of countervailing this identity-theft is to recognize the manipulation as it happens and consciously defy its influence. This can be achieved in several ways, but before we can even begin to discuss them, you have to figure out who what narrative you would truly prefer. Because your identity is inexorably tied to those around you, pay attention to who you gravitate towards, who you idolize, who you admire. Then ask yourself if you really admire what they’re selling, or if you merely fear not buying it. Never allow yourself to be motivated by fear. Fear can be levied against you to make you behave in ways that you otherwise would not. The first step towards self-realization is the renunciation of fear. Ah, but some fear does you a service. The fear of prison likely keeps you out of prison. The fear of snakes will prevent snake bites. The fear of losing your life will prevent you from risking it foolishly. So embrace those fears if you choose. The type of fear you must renounce is a far more subtle and devious variety of fear. It is fear of inadequacy, fear of being judged, fear of the wrath of the superreinforcers. Luckily, this fear can be destroyed by the very solution to the identity-theft problem. It was simply important that you acknowledged your fears before attempting these methods. Lone Wolf. Is it possible to maintain one’s cohesion even without reinforcement? With constant strength of will, I believe that some people can do so. However, a life without any interaction whatsoever is bound to be savagely lonely. Even the most virulent misanthrope would likely be heavily taxed by such an isolated existence Combine that with the sheer exertion of maintaining your psyche in a vacuum and you’re a train wreck waiting to happen.

Subversive. The simple act of awareness is enough to largely free you from the bondage of societal synchronicity. When you are aware of the constant manipulation of all those around you, you’re less likely to be impacted by it. The drawback here is that you live a life of utter paranoia, always wondering if you really like what you like and really hate what you hate. Counter-Culture. Don’t like the values of the vox populi? Create your own value system and find others with similar ones. Once this was hard, but in the internet age it’s significantly simpler. The drawback is that such groups can become too clickish and cult-like. Ultimately, no solution is the perfect solution. They all have their share of pros and cons—but even at their most problematic they are preferable to the bland life of servitude that I thoroughly criticized in the previous section.

My Various Failed Subversive Revolutions
This chapter is something of an aside that explains my credentials as a revolutionary. They are less than impressive and often make me appear entirely repugnant, but I trust they will be amusing to many of you. The ASU Atheist Scum United was founded on April 4th, 2007 with the purpose of pissing a lot of people off. It quickly came under fire from moderate atheists for its extremist stances and hostile conduct, and imploded on May 5th 2007 , just barely a month after it had launched. The tactics, which included spam attacks on Christian websites, driving Christians off of public forums like YouTube and forming a lobby to get children removed from fundamentalist households, were loathed by all but the most authoritarian secularists. Its true purpose was to elevate me to cult-leader status and build a following of extremist adulators to funnel money into my pocket and obey my directives, which would have always been aimed at wreaking social havoc. Sadly, because of my home environment at the time and the stupidity of those who I exploited as partners in the venture, the whole thing went to hell in a hand basket. Private documents explaining ASU tactics leaked to the public before they had been polished down into something more bland and inoffensive and the backlash was tremendous. The ASU wound up spending all of its time defending its own existence and soon collapsed under the weight of its own bloated incompetence. It remains my most public attempt at destroying the social order and my most public failure. Feminist Rape Plot In 2005 and 2006 I posed as an extremist feminist named Martha Stanton who advocated a number of extreme measures for creating a matriarchal society on various online forums and in a few small newsletters. Of the numerous opinions of Martha Stanton, I shall illuminate a few: • The rape of men through the use of alcohol (or other intoxicating agents) and large strap-on dildos. The stated objective here was to make men realize that they could be victims as well, thus engendering new empathy between the sexes. • Many feminist extremists (hereafter referred to as feminazis) advocate the abortion of all male babies, but that wasn’t subversive enough for Martha. She instead advocated giving birth to male children but raising them to obey and worship women, to treat them like dogs and to never love them. • Martha demanded that the word man be stricken from the dictionary and that all words describing manliness of masculinity (such as manliness and masculinity) be removed from the language as well. In doing so, Martha believed that men would lack the ability to express themselves as different from women and the divisions between the sexes would diminish. • Martha said that newly-wed brides should have lesbian orgies on the night of their honeymoon and that they should divorce their husbands the next day without ever sleeping with them. I don’t even remember her rationale for this one. • Martha wanted certain boys to be raised on farms and cultivated as meat for women so that man recognized his place as an animal. • Martha wanted 95% of boys castrated at puberty. • Martha demanded that only girls be allowed access to education because the violent tendencies of men led them to use their education only to make bombs and guns. Martha’s ideas never caught on. She spent most of her time arguing with less extreme feminists (such as all of them) and was banned from countless forums. The newsletters that printed her work subsequently came under fire and would not publish future articles. She did, interestingly enough, acquire a somewhat sizable circle of male sexual submissives in the BDSM lifestyle, but these were useless to her purpose of

but it was a hell of a lot more “fuun”. In either incarnation of our club. At 8-years-old I had managed my first and thusfar my last successful subversive movement. not often given to reminiscence. I remember very little about the school. . as I am largely a forward-thinking person. such as “Ghost of John” and “Oh. Pretty much all of us were expelled from Crestdale or asked to leave.” but I digress. lifting up the girl’s skirts. We are the pricks! We prick you in the dick! Dow dow dow! Dow dow dow dow dow! Dow dow dow! Dow dow dow dow dow! Granted. I do. however. harassment. so I guess we must have been a threat to the established order. our primary agenda was to fuck up our uptight private school. making fun of the kid whose older brother had committed suicide—nothing was above or beneath us. it was only slightly less inane that the Crestdale theme song.creating a matriarchy and even more useless to my purpose of fucking the world up royally. Crestdale school is number one! We make learning fu-un! Well I know! (clap clap) Well I know! (clap clap) ‘Cause Crestdale’s where I go! Even as a boy I found that song to be completely inane drivel. The Pricks & The SSS As a young lad. taught to us by a balding and hopefully now dead asshole named Dave . I was fond of some of the other songs we sang. recall the school song. the infliction of tiny puncture wounds upon our peers. I don’t recall if School Sucks Shit ever had a theme song. What I remember most of all though were my friends Luke. You Can’t Get To Heaven. I attended the private school of Crestdale. Nick and What’s-His-Face and our two clubs: The SSS (School Sucks Shit) and The Pricks (this name was a double entendre in that we were admittedly asshole and that we all carried around thumbtacks with which to stab other children). but I know that The Pricks did. which we all despised with every fiber of our angst-crammed preteen minds. Threatening letters to teachers.

freaks and unnamable things that rape pit bulls for fun. If your pursuit of happiness includes fucking other members of your own sex. but I’ll tell you what Thomas Jefferson had to say about it.” . Imagine you’re locked in a huge underground nightclub filled with sinners. A system where 51% of the people can rule over the other 49% doesn’t make much sense. where the majority rules. and everyone else.” People must have control over their destiny and the direction of their country. three wolves and a sheep voting on what to have for dinner. populations cannot strip one-another of inalienable rights. as far as your eye can see. how would they vote? I imagine they would vote similarly to how 11 states voted on the issue of gay marriage in 2004. Where are the well-armed sheep to contest this vote? Where are those who defy the masses of dumb asses and shove the narrow-minded pettiness of the populace down its own throat? As George Carlin once said. then it’s time to get more extreme. challenge the very notion that such things should be voted on. If ever a law were to come before the voters that somehow restricted the rights of those who do not believe in God.” The sole qualm I have with this analogy is that we’re not lone dissenters at the mercy of an overwhelming mob. and brand new sexual organs that you did not know existed. either ethically or pragmatically. If you can’t win on that basis. For my own legal safety I can’t tell you what extremes you might go to to preserve freedom. BAN SAME-SEX MARRIAGE? YES NO Arkansas 75% 25% Georgia 76% 24% Kentucky 75% 25% Michigan 59% 41% Mississippi 86% 14% Montana 67% 33% North Dakota 73% 27% Ohio 62% 24% Oklahoma 76% 24% Oregon 57% 43% Utah 66% 34% There you have it. The question posed to the American people was simple: do these people deserve the right to enter into the same social contracts that we do? Let’s take a look how that turned out. whores. “The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.Democracy Is Fascism By Consensus I am an atheist in a country with a religious majority. Mr. It is its natural manure. The fictional character spider Jerusalem from Warren Ellis’ comic book masterpiece Transmetropolitan explained it best: “You want to know about voting? I’m here to tell you about voting. “We don’t have people like that in this country. You’re welcome. Franklin. Having a leader who only represents the values of a little over half of your country makes no sense. So you vote for television. guns. They like to have sex with normal people using knives. If you’re gay—or just a freedom-lover who wants to fight for the beaten down—then fight those who seek to pass laws against gay marriage. but just as murders cannot murder without consent. votes to fuck you with switchblades. You like to put your feet up and watch Republican Party Reservation. And you ain’t allowed out until you all vote on what you’re going to do tonight. We have numbers. If desegregation were put to a vote. Instead. Don’t vote against the measure because doing so is a tacit admission that voting on such matters is the proper thing to do. then it is un-American for us to put it to a vote. That’s voting. blacks might still be drinking from the black water fountain and we certainly wouldn’t have a man named Barack Hussein Obama in the highest office in the land.

Save money on car insurance with Progressive. 7. shall we? We shall. Without a drug called ProGene. with all the money you’ll save you could buy shit behind your wife’s back! She’ll never find out!” Only a fool would look to commercials for their morality and obviously no one looks at this material as though it were meant to influence or persuade us—but it is and it does! If commercials didn’t persuade us to buy products. 5. 8. in this instance. 4. With AutoZone. 3. “It’s okay—or at least expected—to go behind your wife’s back with the household’s finances” might be influential? . Save money on car insurance with Progressive. Red Bull Energy Drink will enable you to fly to Heaven for the purpose of exacting revenge on your recently deceased husband for leaving his fortune to his mistress rather than you and the two children you had with him. so that you can waste it on frivolous purchases that your wife doesn't know about. they’re saying. you can restore a shitty old car that you found on the side of the road to working condition if you work on it constantly for months on end. Graphs are presented to prove this fact. Attractive people are all inexplicably using dating services. you will be a completely unsatisfactory lover. Saving money is obviously desirable. Why then is it a stretch to think that this message of. 2. If you play the game "Rock Band" for the Nintendo Wii. jotting down the messages of television advertisements in the most undiluted terms I could manage. I sat before this idiot box—what Harlan Ellison in his infinite insight into all things dubbed “the glass teat”—with a pen in hand and a notebook sprawled out on the coffee table before me. It has shown me. Penis Enlargement Pill (Extenz) is "scientifically proven" and if it didn't work then its makers could not possible afford to put commercials for it on television.Commercials For Mediocrity Television has taught me much about my enemy. the human race. Here is a sampling of the results: 1. other than going to Denny's. so that you can waste it on frivolous purchases that your wife doesn't know about. with stark clarity. You also have to spell out for people what they could do with this money and. 1. One drunken night. you will become as cool as the members of an actual band. 6. so your ugly ass had better get in on that action. their every perverse desire and oppressive insecurity. “Hey guy’s. It has lain naked before me their cruelty and ignorance. then multi-billion-dollar corporations would not waste money utilizing them to sell everything from car insurance to low-fat yogurt. will turn out badly. Let’s examine these concepts one-by-one and extrapolate their appeal. Anything that you do after midnight. but not good enough to really sell insurance in Progressive’s opinion.

This is a strange phenomena of recent advertising: the non sequitur masquerading as conventional wisdom. If you play the game "Rock Band" for the Nintendo Wii. Will men who know damn well that attractive women don’t use telephone dating services suspend their disbelief long enough to cough up a credit card number? You and I both know the answer. so your ugly ass had better get in on that action. A loser in a corvette parked outside his palatial estate is still a loser. And that would be fucking cool. you will become as cool as the members of an actual band. Graphs are presented to prove this fact. you will be a completely unsatisfactory lover. 3. What most uncool people never seem to realize. you’ve always known it now. I like commercials that make claims that are so ridiculous that they are designed to not be believed. is that cool simply isn’t sold in a store. Without a drug called ProGene. You haven’t always known that everything you do after midnight is doomed to fail? Well. the entire advertising industry would be destroyed overnight. other than going to Denny's. If this inescapable truth was ever realized. The oldest lie in the advertiser’s arsenal: X will make you cool. 6. A man drinks a Vault and he suddenly has the ability to punch out sharks while clubbing lesser men to death with his erect penis. What I adore most about this commercial is its shaky attempt at logic. As soon as Denny’s creates this conventional wisdom. they immediately defy it! How bold! “Marvel at how we stand in defiance of the principle that we ourselves contrived for the specific purpose of boldly defying it!” 4. Without X your life will be reduced to a hideous montage of shame and degradation. 7. Why is this commercial making the claim that the product it advertises can do things that even the dumbest viewer knows with a binding certainty it cannot do? I think it’s to distract us from the fact that the product doesn’t actually do anything. will turn out badly. They’ve got charts! How could anyone ever possibly resist the fact-laden persuasive power of a brightly colored pie chart insisting their urgent need for a particular product? . Energy drinks in particular enjoy this technique. Is there even one among us who really believes this? People—men in particular—are so controlled by their sexual organs that many advertisers wisely choose to ignore their brains altogether. You must have X.2. Penis Enlargement Pill (Extenz) is "scientifically proven" and if it didn't work then its makers could not possible afford to put commercials for it on television. Red Bull Energy Drink will enable you to fly to Heaven for the purpose of exacting revenge on your recently deceased husband for leaving his fortune to his mistress rather than you and the two children you had with him. 5. Anything that you do after midnight. Rarely does a commercial attempt to employ logic—even of the shaky variety—so one has to give them a measure of credit for their attempt. even under the crushing weight of all those unfulfilled promises of thousands upon thousands of products designed to make you cool. Attractive people are all inexplicably using dating services.

So. and I will concede that it is. how could anyone not resist that? 8. With AutoZone. A teenage boy finds a dilapidated car on the side of the road with a note in the window that reads “If you can fix it you can have it. are the most gullible assortment of rubes to ever walk this shit-covered ball of filth and bacteria that we call Earth. He spent his summer getting parts to fix a shitty car that someone abandoned on the side of the road when he could have just saved up to buy a used car already in working condition. This commercial really touched my heart. However. . but here’s the conclusion that I’m forcing on you: human beings. Now. what can we extrapolate from these commercials? I won’t force any conclusions on you.” So the boy gets a job and works his butt off until he has all the parts he needs to slowly repair the car. you can restore a shitty old car that you found on the side of the road to working condition if you work on it constantly for months on end. this may strike you as unfair and unreasonable. especially Americans.Actually. it also happens to be true. His tenacity and resolve exemplify the American Spirit! As does his stupidity.

Michael Keaton’s was dull and spoiled. In film. Our heroes are not actors and actresses. In movies and films and even (for some of us) books there exists a moral simplicity that is innately gratifying. felt deeply conflicted about the idea of being a role model. but otherwise indistinguishable from the masses. Playing a gig in jeans and a T-shirt was now not only okay. Ask why firemen don’t get multi-million dollar endorsement deals. A lot of my friends. Watch them fumble stupidly. Ask them if they know the name of even one current astronaut. Ask why you’ve never seen a panel of guys sitting around a table talking about their favorite fireman or how amazing a certain cop’s takedown of a particular criminal was. We might lovingly embrace a director or a singer every now and then. Since then. The trend here was towards a more human rendition of the character. If you think soldiers and firemen are our real heroes than ask why so many homeless people are veterans. complacent slobs. say that they have no heroes. putting the pressure of our intense scrutiny on them and then waiting for them to snap under the weight of our merciless judgment. Kurt was a reaction to the ridiculously flashy and fake rockstars dominating the scene at the end of the 80’s—guys gallivanting around in yellow spandex and purple codpieces. We’re a bunch of fat. the idea of the rockstar as a God-like figure who was simply better and cooler than you in every possible way went to its grave. We’ve turned them into our public freakshow. Is there any doubt that Axl Rose loves nothing more than being loved and adored and worshipped by whatever remains of his pathetic fan-base? Kurt Cobain. it was expected. Adam West’s Batman was silly. so I’ll spell it out: our heroes are becoming people who don’t want to be our heroes. With Kurt. Christian Bale’s was complex and believable. Christian Bale and Christopher Nolan crafted a similar Batman— . those rules have been relaxed to admit more theatrical acts like Marilyn Manson and Slipknot into the darker bowels of the mainstream—but as oft-derided acts taken seriously only by their hardcore fans and laughed off by most others. Our heroes are not everyday people like us.Our Heroes Our heroes are not scientists or explorers. But there are two factions of people in America these days. Our heroes are not artists. Batman was transformed from a campy crime-fighter in tights in 1966 to a rich boy out for a good time bullying criminals in 1989 to a brooding bad ass with an unbreakable will in 2008. By now some of you are wondering what the hell I’m rambling about. We pay a little bit of lip-service to firemen and police and soldiers—but at the end of the day those people have no impact on most of us (other than those cited in vague allusions to “keeping us safe” and “fighting for our freedom”). but usually only if they’re directing movies about exploding trucks or singing about how great America is and how much they like expensive things and sexual intercourse. on the other hand. There are those who have heroes and those who have to act as if they do not. When we look for the ultimate fulfillment of our most closely held values—we can only ever see them perfectly realized within the world of fiction. I will write about the latter first and segue into a discussion of the former from there. I view this as partly a response to the inanity of what is considered heroic in modern America and partly a consequence of the look-up-to-no-one trend started by Kurt Cobain in the early 90’s. The rockstar was now just an everyday guy—perhaps with a bit more poetry in his or her soul. He didn’t really feel up to the task of being anyone’s hero. We’d be idiots to admire one another. Dressing up in flamboyant costumes was now looked upon as the behavior of a poser. Challenge an American on the streets to name 10 scientists off the top of his head. whom I consider to be among the smarter living denizens of shitball #3 . wailing like banshees about rocking your body and touching your body and tasting your body and doing a whole assortment of other unseemly things to your body.

The pro-heroes crowd is not so considerate. increasingly. . The heroes of pro-heroes people are typically self-absorbed athletes with more muscles than brains. but I always found myself agreeing with his contention that the one thing people love more than a hero is to see a hero fall. It is always fun to watch as these heroes are fed a steady diet of love from the public for years and years. The Green Goblin from 2002’s Spiderman was among the lamest realizations of an iconic comic book villain in cinematic history. Who could ever be more athletic than superheroes? They can run faster than speeding bullets and leap tall buildings in a single bound! The superheroes are the home team and all the supervillains are from rival schools. This notion. For this reason. I’d remind you that I’m about as nerdy as a person can be. by the way.one who felt unworthy of being a hero and unsure if he could handle the pressures of being perceived as such. Besides. but their heroes don’t want them to be. As a teenager. acne accounted for more of my body mass than penis did. Even if they adore the ever-loving shit out of someone. That’s when the tabloids and the gossip shows (and. the no-heroes crowd respectfully pretends to not have heroes. Why can’t a man who can eat more hotdogs than most people be a small-time hero? My stepfather is an excellent contractor and carpenter—why does that skill entitle him to less hero worship than a guy who can pluck a guitar well? Don’t we need roofs over our heads and four walls to hold them up as much as we need music to reverberate off of those walls? Am I being too idealistic? I had better stop in that case. I don’t know if we can choose our heroes or if who we admire is inexorably linked to our own values—wherever those are derived from—but it seems to me that we should have deep admiration for anyone who is especially talented at what they do. until one day some fact about them comes to light or they start to lose their game and their sycophantic devotees evaporate like a mirage. fits perfectly into my idea that athletes are our ultimate heroes. the actual news) get ahold of them. It fits together eerily well—at least in my mind. feeding their already morbidly obese egos. And before your criticize me for referencing superheroes twice in one section. they act as though they don’t to spare their heroes a little bit of the pressure of being heroes. this is a chapter about heroes—and super ones are the most idealized of all. It’s awful considerate of them really.

It was nothing they hadn’t seen a hundred times before--just another family destroyed. the refuge of society. and much of me still does. and its meaning. he’d have crashed and she would have been severely injured or worse. We stewed in the hospital’s waiting room while doctors performed surgery.” At that moment. Marilyn Manson. Not all at once. Here I was. “Oh god. but it was the first blow to all my high-minded idealism about the strong pulling themselves up by their bootstraps. just another person sucked into oblivion. The waiting room was filled with people wanting to be seen for minor illnesses. She pumped his chest and blew into his mouth. The sentence. albeit in a dark and haunting way. A black woman kept shouting how outrageous it was that she had to wait so long for treatment for her sickle-cell. He told me then how he hated the fragility of human life. jogged briskly to the bedroom where my father lay moaning inhumanly. We turned him over. “He’s pissed himself. Being in the hospital that night kicked killed the conservative in me. he’s a goner!” We—me. They were all very casual. I wanted to smash her face into the brick wall that I was leaning on as I sat on the floor because stupid cretinous morons like her had taken all the chairs. just another day at work. “I know these white people in here ain’t got no sickle-cell!” she shouted indignantly. They came out in little bursts of cartoonish snoring that would have sounded funny under different circumstances. my brother and my stepmom—managed to get him onto the floor. His face was purple. They managed to restore his pulse. My friend Logan was driving in a car with his girlfriend once and he had to slam on the brakes to avoid a collision.Sorrow & Flatulence “TJ. we all knew he was going to die. I called 9-1-1.” I’d be lying if I said panic was my first reaction to those words. surrounded by the weak—the poor. his eyes glassy. It was the unspoken obvious fact that filled the room like a cloud of noxious gas. simply inflating his stomach instead. There was a time when I would have agreed with him. there’s something seriously wrong with your father. who just so happens to be the most brilliant man on earth. We were told that my father had suffer a massive heart-attack. I kind of dig our fragility.” shouted my stepmom. the infirm. “Oh god. he’s pissed himself ” was grief-stricken wife speak for: “Of fuck. despite knowing that detachment is an important part of their job. puts it best in his song “The Reflecting God”: . Hell. That hard truth is that no one is strong. made the room I was occupying seem larger. We are all fundamentally weak because no matter how spectacular we may fancy ourselves to be. However. I rose from my chair. I had an epiphany then (though it was drowned by grief): these people were my countrymen. and in spite of all the sorrow it has caused me and countless other human beings. It made me feel smaller. His beige pants were drenched with urine. His girlfriend wasn’t wearing her seatbelt and her head smacked against the windshield. I wanted to pound her face into a pulp until sickle-cell was at the very bottom of her list of medical problems. we’re still biological organisms of immense frailty. Paramedics arrived quickly and worked on him for what seemed liked 15-minutes but was probably a considerable shorter period of time. but Logan realized that if he hadn’t hit the brakes when he had. they’re kind of funny even in retrospect. She was largely unharmed. These sickly people and these relatives of sickly people were my fellow human beings. I freely admit to hating them to this day. The breaths she gave him seemed to bypass his lungs entirely.

it felt as though I were hugging a mannequin or a wax figure. Sorrow and flatulence are supposed to be mutually exclusive occurrences. Maybe if he’d contracting cancer or something like that and we’d had weeks to lie to ourselves instead of just hours. But I digress. here are somethings I learned about myself in exchange for my fathers death. That wasn’t the case though. but I’ve never been one to suffer in the shadows. Everyone knew he was going to die. I said. It may seem peculiar. It taught me that I have a thick southern accent when I get really upset.Without the threat of death There’s no reason to live at all Isn’t that the truest statement ever spoken or sung? Without death. I told him that if anyone could defy the odds it was him. expecting—these activities are akin to wading up a piece of paper and throwing it at a tank. I could scarcely go a minute without releasing the most rank and vile farts known to man. I stood beside my father’s deathbed with my normally unaffectionate brother clinging to me as if I was the sole thing keeping him from spiraling into madness. I want people to know that I’m in pain—just like I want them to know when I’m angry or happy. wishing. GRAND ISIGHT INTO MYSELF #1: I fart a lot when I’m consumed by grief and shock and terror. There were no delusions. We were all attempting to lie to ourselves.” and I had them take him off the machines that were keeping him alive. without further delay. I begged him—in a thick southern accent that I don’t normally have—to pull a miracle out of his ass. “My dad died. It was amazing how quickly he went from a human being to a corpse. It’s sort of expected of you.” It’s our way of acting like us and the world are Even Steven. His body was suddenly so stiff and lifeless. The night my father died taught me a number of important things. I spoke to my father for the last time— knowing full well that he couldn’t hear or perceive a goddamn thing that I said. Nothing in those overwrought dramatic films about personal tragedy prepares you for such incongruities. The nurses told us that he had no chance and that even if he survived he would likely have serious brain damage. Most importantly. waiting for news about my father’s fate and I was farting. I was in a room filled with sick people. Hours later. I supposed that the first time a loved one dies. do drugs. We’re told that all the time growing up. praying. “That’s not what he’d want. I couldn’t possibly count the number of times I was told as a child that life isn’t fair—but I didn’t really realize it until . We like to give death a big middle finger and dare him to bite us in the ass. he was dead. I always want everyone to share in my emotional state . That’s why we drive too fast. I may as well have been talking to a wall. Existence is no fun if it’s not temporary. Farting while be dad was dying taught me this: there is no “supposed to be” in the real world.” Hoping. we could have tricked ourselves. you should come away with a deeper understanding of yourself. It taught me that no matter how full of life someone seems. I—an atheist since childhood—would praise whatever God may be in any way that I could. GRAND ISIGHT INTO MYSELF #2: I have a thick country accent when I’m bereaved. So. I swore that if he made a full recovery. but I gained such and such insight into myself. I was in the hospital room waiting for my father to get out of surgery. but none of us believed our own bullshit. life has no meaning. eat shitty food and all that fun stuff. When I gave him my departing hug. they may be close to death. It taught me that I fart a lot under stress. I went home that night and the first thing I did was make a YouTube video . it taught me that life isn’t fair. Reality doesn’t care about “ought” or “should.

. . Until it doesn’t. Life goes on.I was 23 and my father died before ever even getting to wear the watch I bought him for Christmas. . . Oh well.

She doesn’t want to be an adult. When I was a kid only my gay uncle ever told me the truth about being an adult. Then I began to wonder. She will IM me for hours solid even if I don’t IM her back even once. “You don’t have to put up with a bunch of people telling you what to do all the time. being dependant on my meds.” he said. but for her it seemed like a nightmare. She has Charles Manson eyes and gigantic tits. When I asked 99% of adults what it was like to be a grown-up they’d tell me that it was awful and that I’d better enjoy my childhood while it lasted. though she doesn’t have any now. Gather ‘round children and allow me to tell you a story. Reason and logic are thrown out the window the moment that a girl’s feelings are hurt. Love stories start that way. My gay uncle didn’t bother with that smokescreen.Bitches Be Crazy So there’s this girl. and rightfully so—because they are.” It’s hard not to pity someone with so many fears. however. having kids with worse mental problems than me. That’s short for Gwendolyn but that doesn’t really matter since Gwen is not her real name. . hate stories start that way. Failing that. She is straight edge but is considering quitting so that she can do cocaine. She frequently alludes to fantasies wherein I have sex with my brother or my friend Cody for her pleasure. I’m betting that most of the stories men tell start with some variation of those words. She greets people by saying. I have a little bit of a story to tell you. Other days I have vaguely alluded. She fears that it will be more difficult to make friends. She’s an overweight teenage vegan who dreams of being famous. She brings up interesting topics in passing and then discusses boring ones at length. Some will call these sentiments sexist. never being "hot". I’ve talked to her in ways that would have driven some people to take a razor to their wrists—and she’s taken no offense. She is terrified of the future. and in telling you this story I hope to prove a point about gender and about America. even though she has no friends. I wonder how many stories start that way. I’ve told her that she is a crazy bitch. She is obsessed with Vanilla Ice. Any man who has ever argued with a girl knows this. I asked her then. being fat the rest of my life. It starts like this: So there’s this girl named Gwen. my agent (she scares the shit out of me). “Wanna get a pizza and fuck?” Her mother is a lesbian social-worker. tales of everything from redemption to obsession start with “a girl. “What are you afraid of Gwen?” The following is her exact answer: “Getting an obsession. not being successful. She hates all the girls that like me because they like me. She is unaware of most of these traits. . I’ve been as mean as possible to her. not getting married. She fears that adults don’t have enough sex. She yells at people when they eat eggs because it’s animal cruelty. She thinks she’s a good person. I felt a tinge of sympathy for her. I hope to amuse you with a tale of obsessive behavior. people who are really nice to me to the point I don’t know if they’re real. I’m scared of having kids even more fucked up then me. spiders. not having anyone fall in love with me. You can sit around in your living room in your underwear with a joint and a bowl of soup and no one gives a fuck. “Do I even have the right to by sympathetic?” I’m as obsessive as she is and I fear that no one will ever love me. in the politest possible term. This has little bearing. not getting into college. . I’m . but she does not value human life. She asks me for advice at times. I’ve called her dirt.” So I essentially told Gwen the same thing. my cat dying before me. on my subject matter for this chapter. I have my moments of humanity . She alternately tells me that she watches all my videos and tells me that she’s only watched two or three of them. “Being an adult is way better. She hates me one day and loves me the next.” Girls are capable of an intensity of emotions that most men could never muster. She thinks the Columbine killers are cute. and ketchup. She’s essentially afraid that adulthood will be different by being exactly the same. to strange idiosyncrasies in her personality and reduced her to tears and rage.

They reflect us with an emotional rawness that we could never muster. That’s why Muslims put drapes over them. I don’t fear spiders or ketchup. I distrust overly nice people and view them as phonies. They show us our every insecurity. That’s why we love them.scared of not being successful. That’s why we subtly encourage them to wear as little as possible. . magnified by an order of magnitude. I don’t take any meds. I’d eat spider in Ketchup is someone offered it up as an exotic dish. Is my sending angry letters to a girl I broke up with 5-years-ago any less horribly obsessive than her writing my name across her tits and sending them to me without any provocation? Is my raging at people who believe in even the least dogmatic of deities any different than her raging at people for eating eggs? Girls. though I arguably ought to. The traits I hate most are ones I share most. I worry about my sick dog. They are us better than we are ourselves. That’s why we hate them. Damned elusive beasts of our hearts. Most of the fears that make her seem pathetic to me are fears that I share. Hell. Girls.

I like to ask these rednecks (who are by no means inherently stupid people. What’s the point of a right to protest if you can’t protest where those whose actions you are protesting can see and hear you? And does not the first Amendment of the Constitution of the United States of America that every government official is sworn to uphold state that all of America is a “Free Speech Zone”? Anyone who has ever filed a Demonstration Permit—the very concept of which makes me sick— and seen it rejected can tell you all about your right to protest. that we belong to them. Russia. I use sanitizer) and follow me down this road. They say because they don’t think it would change things. Poll after poll has shown the Americans of all political stripes overwhelmingly favor some form of Universal Healthcare . the government of this country has boldly declared. yes. “Wow. However. Most say that they haven’t. and it was removed by the Godless Democrats who want to write God out of history. the private insurance industry sure is giving us a lot of money. Now. then why does the right to protest matter? Of course. America is a free country because we’re more free than countries like China. yet again. Our bodies are not our own to do with what we please—they are fodder for Uncle Sam’s meat grinder. which are specific places set up where protestors are allowed to demonstrate against any given thing. by the way) if they’ve ever tried to protest here in America. “Yeah. many conservative rednecks like the ones I live around will tell you. In other words. Instead our representatives (HA!) say. America? The freedom to timidly voice a complaint with the way things are going? The freedom to pay less in taxes than most European countries.” That’s right.Free and Dumb Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion. Does the government say. the excerpt found on the memorial in . well you try protesting in the streets in China and then you’ll be grateful for the freedom you got here.” Here’s just how stupid and controllable the electorate is: just today I overheard a redneck saying that the Democrats removed the word God from a WWII memorial. yet to watch the news you would imagine that the country was fiercely divided on this issue (and if you watch Fox News you’d get the impression that only hardcore socialists would even suggest such a thing). and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances. That’s like saying that McDonalds serves healthy food because it’s not as bad for you as getting shot in the face. Exactly what freedoms do you think you have. “Wow. shot with rubber bullets and tear-gassed by police in full battle regalia tends to diminish one’s ideas about any sort of right to protest in America. Getting sprayed with hoses. or prohibiting the free exercise thereof. or the right of the people peaceably to assemble. This set my bullshit detector off immediately and I did some research. perhaps? Take my hand for a moment (it’s okay. Today I saw a story on the news about a 15-year-old girl arrested for child pornography because she took nude pictures of herself . Ask the people who protested the WTO in Seattle (it doesn’t matter here if you agree with their paranoid fear of multinational conglomerates or not) how they feel about the state of their right to protest. look at those polls! We better get on this problem right away!”? No. According to every redneck I’ve ever gotten into an argument with. I found that. or of the press. I guess we can tell 70 to 80% of people that it’s just not feasible and that they’re unpatriotic for wanting it. God was mentioned in Roosevelt’s speech. It was an excerpt from Roosevelt’s speech following the attack on Pearl Harbor. Iran and North Korea. I ask them why. in America we have such a thing as Free Speech Zones. or abridging the freedom of speech. Which leads me to the question that not one of them can answer sufficiently: If protesting can’t change things. We call this a free country. but everything about this country is designed to stifle freedom.

You’re not just part of the problem. But folks. We did not elect Wal-Mart or Halliburton our leaders and it shouldn’t be up to them whether we pass environmental reforms or labor reforms or enact economic regulations. you are the problem. but somehow malevolent. Thusfar you’ve given them what they want. Same drink. it’s . you are held to a gold standard that no human being can really live up to. Your lips are moving. but if the governor’s gardener fucks a hooker. What I’m not happy about—and what none of us should be happy about—is that these same corporations are ruling over our government. When you’re hated. they will keep control. Now. And they don’t want you to be free. we will be distracted from the important truth that we are powerless. Americans would like to believe that one side fights for them and the other side are ravenous monsters who want to see America’s values crumble to the dirt. but that’s not the case either. It doesn’t matter that these drinks taste nearly identical—to watch the competing ads for the two. It doesn’t matter what we want. for all intents and purposes. The aforementioned redneck was complaining that God was nowhere to be found in a sentence that God was never in. Some people will swear up and down that there are vast differences between the two—Coke people say the Pepsi has a bad aftertaste and Pepsi people say that Coke has a bad aftertaste. it’s a story that makes the front page of all the newspapers. but it’s not. That’s all you need to know. you’d imagine that no two drinks were ever so different. and I’ve created a helpful flowchart that shows you how they decide policy: That’s the breakdown. When you’re loved. most can’t tell the fucking difference.” Let me explain politics in America to you. by the way). folks. The Republicans are Coca-Cola and the Democrats are Pepsi-Cola. but when you view your opponents as not just wrong. folks. I like that we can get quality goods at affordable prices.question NEVER included anything about God. If the governor fucks a hooker. They want you to be a dumb slave who will pull the cart along without question. If the people stopped worrying that the other half of the people were fucking them in the ass they might stop to notice that both “sides” are holding everyone down while the corporations fuck each and every one of us. be intelligent for a minute. hated by millions!” That’s the essence of freedom. they are. but if you give a Coke person a Pepsi or a Pepsi person a Coke. let’s be clear: I’m not advocating the destruction of corporations. Further. As long as they keep us fat and fatalistic. There’s nothing wrong with having your own beliefs. What Is Freedom? In the greatest B-movie of all time. but the words aren’t coming from inside your head—they’re coming from Rush Limbaugh or Michael Moore (neither of whom I have any particular problem with. I love that we’re a country of mass production where I can buy a computer for less than a grand or eat at cheeseburger for 1/6th of an hour’s labor at minimum wage. Democrats and Republicans are essentially the same beast. you’re a puppet. but they don’t deserve an amplifier. “Deathrace 2000”. It only matters what IBM and Wachovia want. The GOP or the DNC have a big greasy hand up your ass. almost anything you get up to is fully expected of you. The difference is all in the packaging and the marketing. Sylvester Stallone plays a character with the enviable name of Machine Gun Joe Viterbo who is introduced to a jeering arena of spectators with one of the most underrated lines in all of cinema: “Here he comes! Machine Gun Joe! Loved by thousands. When you believe that. you’re not solving anything. two things that are genuinely different don’t need to spend millions of dollars a year convincing you of how different they are. boys and girls. The folks on CNN would love it to be more complicated than that. As long as we worry about fake issues. Peanut Butter Crunch has never and will never put out an ad letting you know just how superior their cereal is to mashed potatoes and gravy. Milk doesn’t put out ads telling you not to drink orange juice. As long as we continue to believe that they are unstoppable. They deserve a voice. he boldly declared—as if it were a fact—that Democrats were to blame for this “travesty. They don’t deserve more say in the fate of the American people than the American people.

the man who is thought to be bad—is not similarly constrained. I always knew that my audience was comprised of real human beings. He can tell the truth. the man who is thought to be good—is not free to tell the truth. but to ourselves. By the time we realize otherwise—truly realize it—we’re already exposed. in fact. but he looked far too young for that to be the case. ignoring the ties of almost all of the hijackers to Saudi Arabia. 1941. I was pouring my heart and soul out to actual human beings? How unlike me! It was cringe-inspiring and traumatic to think that people. bold and brave men who made the ultimate sacrifice for what they believed in. Freedom is truth. you don’t have to pretend otherwise anymore. Freedom is truth. He is used to getting nasty looks wherever he goes. this entire nation was awestruck with the spectacle of an attack on American soil of proportions not seen since December 7th. Truth is freedom. But there is a massive chasm—at least for me—between rational reality and visceral reality. because it was a destruction that they had chosen for themselves. You can’t retaliate against them. brain-washed idiots—but not cowards. what his golf buddies will think. The good man—or. I was under no illusion that my subscribers were as physically intangible as the characters that I have always created in my head. The bloodlust of the American populace could not be sated with the destruction of those who perpetrated the attack against us. The hijackers were certainly evil. They wanted to see those responsible for the heinous act against their fellow American’s punished. He knows that people don’t approve of him or the way he lives his life. The bloodlust of the American people formed a red carpet for big government and big business to . That’s the problem with suicide attackers. It’s the difference between hearing the words.” he told me. Of course. extending a hand for me to shake it. There is a cruelty inherent to the relatively new medium of internet vlogging in that it lures us into believing in some gullible and intellectually soft area of our brains that we are not talking to an audience. who occupied the same physical realm as I did. We had to go after who they worked for. They were. It’s a relief most people will never experience—the relief of being freed from the burden of the mask of their own contrived banality. but by now we can all surely set that comforting lie aside and admit to ourselves that cowards do not die in the pursuit of their goals. The American people rightly screamed for justice. When a boy who looked like he could be anywhere between 12 and 20 walked up to me in a crowded bookstore and said my name. on a rational level. “I watch you on YouTube. at least. Once you’ve opened your mouth and removed all doubt that you are a complete nutjob. It’s the difference between what we know and what we know. It never occurred to me until that moment that there were actual flesh and blood human beings. Truth is freedom. “Your friend is dead” and actually seeing your friend’s lifeless bullet-riddled corpse. watching my videos. He can only parrot one of two or three socially acceptable positions on any given subject matter. From that initial sting of realization. there can only come relief. It was off-putting. and instead of investigating the matter thoroughly. This is probably why so many Americans called the 9/11 hijackers cowards in the wake of the attacks. The war in Afghanistan was swallowed alive by the war in Iraq. He can tell the truth all day long because he doesn’t give a fuck what the neighbors think. On September 11th 2001. How will they look at him when he goes to his favorite Mexican restaurant? How will they treat him in the checkout line at the grocery store? He can’t tell the truth. They’re already dead. Soon enough. The bad man—or. He doesn’t play any faggoty games like golf. what the papers will think. the Bush administration pinned it exclusively on Osama Bin Laden and the Taliban in Afghanistan. The papers don’t report what he says or does. at least. He has to worry about what the neighbors will think. no better than any people that I had ever encountered in my life. knew things about me. even Osama was forgotten.hardly even a story to tell your friends at work. I was puzzled as to who he could be or how he might know me. My first guess was that I went to school with him.

safety is not something that should trump personal freedom—as it did when our government passed The Patriot Act.stroll into the Middle East and set up shop. those who maintain courage and freedom and true individuality attempt to free the people by simply addressing the symptoms of the disease of servitude to the system. I happen to believe that safety. Safety is a good thing. they found themselves stuck in a war that will end up costing nearly a trillion dollars and has already cost thousands of lives. However. If these were the events of a novel. patriotism and individualism. Now. It is also important—more so. . That doesn’t make it a good idea. when patriotism is transformed into blind support for one’s government. You want to make sure it is a peaceful and opportunity-rich place for the next generation to inherit. Oil Companies like Exxon made record profits while gas prices nearly quadrupled. However. If a man molests a child. The fork whose prongs are safety. So. There’s no reason for people to be needlessly endangered. the question becomes: How did a population descended from a bunch of badass rebels who kicked the ever-loving shit out of the English when King George III tried to tax them too highly turn into a cluster of tepid pussies with no real ambition? How did the home of the free and the land of the brave become the land of the timid and the home of the enslaved? The American people were tamed by a trifecta of factors: safety. Patriotism is a good thing. patriotism and individualism are good things. Patriotism should be pride taken in the accomplishments of our society. but when individualism turns into the notion of “every man for himself ” then it is a basically Social Darwinism. Human beings are not the only things that need to be kept safe. in fact—to keep the noble aspects of human beings alive. And who would really wish to live in a world of absolute safety? We can make people safer by taking away all their rights just like we can make the streets safer by outlawing cars. they use them as weapons against the people. When we have a good economy and a surplus of freedoms. This is not effective. patriotism and individuality. The mindless obedience of the populace to the idea that corporate greed is good does not feel like patriotism to me. instead of trying to find out why this urge exists and making an effort to prevent it from occurring in the future. they want him to resign. freedom from unreasonable taxation. Individualism is certainly a good thing. The thing is. You see this mentality reflected in the inability of the American public to forgive any transgression. it is a complex reality and the American people are too stupid and defeated to have the means or the inclination to rebel against their masters. you want to see it prosper. people want him to go to jail for the rest of his life. Safety does not just mean death-prevention. when those who run the system use these concepts. But this isn’t a tidy fiction. freedom of and from religion. Military contractors like Vice President Dick Cheney’s former employer Halliburton made record profits by overcharging the government for busy work. you’d be incensed if the fictional population of the book didn’t revolt and overthrow their government for such a miscarriage of their will. patriotism and individualism has been stuck into us and we’re done. It feels a damn sight more like treason. then it ceases to be a force for positivity and instead becomes a detriment to that which we should most cherish. freedom to dissent—these things must be kept safe too. the people call for his head on a stick. Our children do not benefit from a world where corporate profit is king. This triplet doctrine has rendered the free and the brave into a great and huddling mass of selfish slaves who take orders because they’re too fearful to ask questions and too uncertain to make demands. If a politician sleeps with a prostitute. “this is good shit!” Patriotism also means recognizing faults with the system and coming up with solutions to fix them. We must eliminate the disease itself. Freedom of choice. it is good to look upon that wealth and freedom and say. By the time Americans forgot about their need for vengeance. Individualism starts to mean lack of empathy. Safety starts to mean fear. freedom of association. This can be done be educating the populace as to the true meanings of the virtues of safety. If a man kills another man in the heat of passion. When you take pride in your country. Too often. Patriotism starts to mean obedience.

since I know that a good deal of my Libertarian readers are currently scratching their heads and saying to themselves. guess what? You’re a pedophile and you’ll go to prison. WORLD. but we as a people have somehow come to the conclusion that this means that no one is ever allowed to make a mistake or have a moment of weakness. . make you go to a shrink and put you on a list that ensures you’ll never hold another good job and you won’t be able to live pretty much anywhere.” She sought to make everything an objective truth.” If she’d had a better understanding of the mechanisms by which we perceive what we call reality she would have said “A is. And guess what? Mr. The truth is that there is no truth. A world where everyone thinks and acts the same is not freedom. Of course people should be responsible for the things they do. . Ask yourself: “What exactly is personal responsibility?” It’s the idea that no matter what happens in your life. Individualism means being true to yourself. only to later discover that she was 14. and in doing so came to a false conclusion about the nature of freedom. Drug-users. It’s not right. get your ass beat and buggered on a daily basis until eventually they’ll let you out. is truth? Ayn Rand. He can hardly let a sentence pass by without throwing “personal responsibility” into it. Everything is viewed through human bias. We are a bunch of unforgiving douchebags. Hot is our bias. It’s been misapplied to the point of uselessness. so they can put anyone behind bars that they want. you’re a murderer and you should go to prison for the rest of your life. the mentally ill—anyone that can fit into a cell can be sold into slavery in this nation. it is entirely your fault and entirely your problem. it’s your fault for not understanding the legal jargon that you signed before your Mortgage tripled. This is why Ayn Rand has the pseudo-Lovecraftian moniker of TBCITU (The Biggest Cunt In The Universe) in my mind. Here in the land of the free. “but that’s not what Ayn Rand said!” The American right-wing is fond of the buzzwords “personal responsibility. Hard is subjective. C won’t give a shit when Mr. not being a slave to self-interest. Everything that makes up our seemingly solid world of airtight absolutes is entirely subjective. Those in power know that we won’t stand up for one another. A doesn’t care if Mr. THE. B goes to prison on some bogus charges. a full 1% of our population is in prison. Let me give you an example of what I mean. but in times like these it’s a bit like being in love with a crack whore who you know will steal your stereo and sell it for crack if you fall asleep with her in your house. Why has this happened? Where did we go wrong? Did we forget that truth is freedom and freedom is truth? What then. Personal responsibility in action. A. that sour husk of a woman whose soul was as barren as her cunt was unfuckably grotesque. B goes to prison a few weeks later on the same charge. If you were drunk at a bar and a man grabbed your girlfriend’s ass and you punched him and he fell and hit his head on hard on the floor and died. IN. Fast is subjective. for all intents a purposes. THE. We shouldn’t let America sell our stereos for crack. If there is a housing crisis and you were the victim of predatory lending practices. 2 million people are incarcerated in the prison system of the United States of America. America has the highest incarceration rate in the world. Hot is subjective. Does this mean that all truth is ultimately subjective? I wouldn’t say that. folks. but I think that objective . Her idea of freedom was a world wherein everyone was “objective” and therefore behaved in an “objective” manner. We call the sun hot because it’s hot to us—but the sun isn’t hot to itself and all the elements that make it up. HIGHEST. you’d think it was the name for the Philosopher’s Stone.” If you’ve ever watched Glenn Beck (I don’t recommend it). political dissidents.I have a deep and profound love for my country. If you are a 25-year-old man and you start flirting with a girl and take her back to your apartment and fuck her in every hole she's got . Such a world is a planet of slaves. once said that “A is A. and the reason for it is because Mr.

” I think that “sunsets are ugly” is every bit as true as “sunsets are beautiful. . Truth is paradox. regardless of how they feel about the kinky people’s lifestyles is a free nation. A nation on non-drug-users who all believe in drugs rights would be a free nation. I think that “sunsets are beautiful” is every bit as true as “the sun is hot.” I think that freedom is found in the ability of contradictory ideas to coexist.truth is so far beyond our grasp (and so far removed from our hearts) that it is essentially irrelevant. A nation of heterosexuals who allowed gays to have equal rights regardless of how they felt about gay people is a free nation. Freedom is truth. A nation of vanilla people who allow the kinky people to be who they are.

The New Slaves A man said to me once that the reason that so many minorities turn to lives of crime is because of gansta rap and movies that portray the criminal lifestyle as glamorous. now that we've put these violent criminals in prison. It has literally become 8 times larger in just 38 years. Tony Montana is a better drug dealer than him.) Hey. the only means of making money is to sell drugs or steal . I’m simply saying that minorities are statistically more likely to be impoverished and tend to live in areas where the schools are underfunded. Ohio. And since the crime rate is so catastrophically high in many minority areas. New Jersey. and Massachusetts have also reduced their prison populations during the same time that crime . Art may encourage us in our chosen paths in life. You're not reading that wrong. The whole thing forms a vicious cycle that is incapable of endings without the intervention of an outside force of some kind. what year was the War on Drugs instituted again? I'm glad you ask. gangster movies) as guidebooks for how to live the easy life. Was it always like this? Were we always so fond of our "lock 'em up and throw away the key" philosophy of crime and punishment? Since 1970. as I find such arguments repugnant. If you’re reading that and you’re not outraged. some will choose to play their little tough guy routines and give us all that slow-clap speech about personal responsibility and toss in some crowd-pleasing snide and sarcastic “boo-hoos” that mock rather than address the problem—but that is beneath us. Or at least it should be. but it’s not a problem for the reason he seemed to think it was. but it accounts for nearly 25% of the world’s prison population . Most scientific evidence suggests that there is little if any relationship between fluctuations in crime rates and incarceration rates. No straight-A student from a wealthy family decided to become a drug dealer just because it looks fun . Hold on. The problem is that minorities are stupid. Violence and theft begets poverty and poverty begets violence and theft. my child. for example. so of course they view what is only intended as escapism (gangsta rap. crime rates have risen or declined independent of imprisonment rates. More often. It’s no wonder that so many of these kids either grow up to perpetuate the shitty parenting cycle by producing offspring of their own or wind up initiated into gangs. Whoa. (HINT: The US Population has only grown by about 3040% in that time—statistically negligible in the face of our previous number. because the world doesn’t need more idiots like you. our prison population has increased by 700% . Shitty education creates shitty people who make shitty parents who fail to instill within their children any sort of principles. But. New York City. crime in this country has gone down! So the war on drugs is working! Yay! WRONG. Who doesn’t dream of being the best at what they do? Of course every two-bit drug dealer in the Ghetto will watch Scarface with envious eyes. Minorities are stupid due largely to the racist policies that have dominated the vast majority of American history. This hopeless cycle is made all the more horrible by the fact that it has served—by design or by happenstance—the purposes of an elite group of Americans. Often times. It’s natural enough that they would view that as the pinnacle of human achievement when it is essentially the glorification of the reality that they already inhabit out of necessity. It was instituted in 1972. TJ. Now. that may be a factor. Connecticut. TJ. Certainly. art is about learning to accept a circumstance or to escape into a better version of your own life than it is about making you into something that you’re not. Tony Montana is the drug dealer he wishes he was. there are fewer small businesses operating there and therefore fewer jobs. I’m not making any sort of argument about race-based intelligence. but rarely does it set us upon them. In many cases. has produced one of the nation’s largest declines in crime in the nation while significantly reducing its jail and prison populations. The United States (laaaaand of the freeeee) has less than 5 percent of the world's population. then your sole focus in life should be to avoid breeding at all costs.

These people are the new slaves in America.9 percent of Hispanic males and 1. who have already gone through so much. Prisons in several state contain call centers that handle calls for many big companies . for instance. 46.rates were declining. So. Beatings.” Prison is big business here in America. The prison population in America contains many blacks and quite a few Hispanics and even a pretty decent number of white people. and 25. if American prisoners are mostly minorities who are mostly poor and they are forced into labor and tortured by sadistic guards—then I can’t draw any conclusion other than that these people are slaves and we are all complicit in their slavery.9 percent of black men were in prison or jails. shall exist within the United States. so I did a bit more digging and discovered that the internet is a veritable treasure trove of sites detailing countless specific instances of the abuse of power by guards against inmates and by inmates against one another with either the encouragement or apathy of the guards. prolonged exposure to heat and even immersion in scalding water. nightsticks. and punishment.7 percent of white males. Ever called a customer service representative for a big corporation that you had dealings with? You might have been talking to a convict. These are inexcusably bad results and when compared to the recidivism rates of most countries.4% resentenced to prison for a new crime. The next question on our agenda is why are recidivism rates so abysmally and staggeringly high? First of all. We don't care that punishment is ineffective. “in the typical American prison. an estimated 67.111 persons released from prisons in 15 States in 1994. sodomy with riot batons. The schools he attends will be under-funded and he will most likely drop out. He is likely to go to jail. Aside from being a cheap source of labor for big companies. which ended one form of slavery. Bruce Franklin. flashlights. and broom handles.5% were rearrested for a felony or serious misdemeanor within 3 years. as you read this sentence. Psychologists have told us for years that punishment is ineffective as a deterrent. brutalization. the increasing prison population also gives politicians an opportunity to funnel tax dollars into the pockets of the contractors who build the prisons that exist to house the influx of new inmates.9% were reconvicted. compared with 3. let's take a look at exactly how high these rates are: Of the 272. Now.” His mother is a drug addict of some sort and he will be born with withdrawals. Vengeance is a lot more fun than being rational and trying to come up with humane solutions that treat our prisoners as human beings with inherent dignity who are no less human than us regardless of their wrong-doing. The Thirteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution. “Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude. but we as a nation continue to think we know better than what mere scientists have to say! We've got something better than science—we've got a gut instinct. because it feels so goddamn good. or any place subject to their jurisdiction. According to cultural historian H. Swedish prisons seek to reform. He is likely to assemble ovens or body armor for large corporations . months of solitary confinement. designed and run to maximize degradation. Right now.” I was skeptical of these claims myself at first. He will grow up without a father and with a mother more interested in scoring drugs than raising him. He is likely to join a gang. a little boy is being born in a big ugly building with a name like “Community Hospital. a whole lot of hatred and a serious lack of empathy for our fellow man. Sweden. shackled prisoners forced to lie in their own excrement for hours or even days. Prisoners are forced to manufacture everything from body armor for the military to the oven in your house. except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted. has a recidivism rate of only 22%! Could it be that they're doing something right and that we're doing something wrong? Instead of seeking to punish. rape and murder by guards or prisoners instructed by guards—all are everyday occurrences in the American prison system. overt torture is the norm. also codified another. electric shock. I suggest that anyone wanting to learn more about this type the words “American prison torture” into Google and start clicking links. an estimated 11. and it’s especially sad in the instance of the blacks.

Have no fear in the face of the opposition—let the thought of the boy who might or might not wind up a slave steel your convictions and straighten your middle finger. Sometimes doing the right thing means being a total bastard. Fight for him. There is a little boy being born right now that has a good chance of becoming a slave whose labor you may one day exploit. If you find his fate tragic. don’t. Demand from your politicians that our prisons be reformed and our schools along with them. Bully them into faking compassion. it won’t have to. Don’t settle for vague promises of some nebulous coming greatness. Spread the word.against his will. but instead make them give you specific promises. Kick some ass. . Talk to your friends and family about this issue and if they don’t give a fuck out of the goodness in their hearts than guilt them into it by mercilessly assaulting their character. He’s taking his first breath of this worlds air and he’s cold and naked and he has no awareness yet of any of this. It hasn’t happened yet—and maybe under your watch and mine. Fight for yourself. Fight for a better world. Fight one person at a time.

he bound in indentured servitude or wage labor. The natives were systematically all but destroyed. You can hear this sentiment from sea to shiny sea. in fact. and in a way it is. convicted them of crimes they had not committed and wrought numerous other well-catalogued offenses against them. Southerners. In "Instant Gratification" I expounded upon the ways in which Instant Gratification might be beneficial. Some may view this as an endorsement of consumer culture. or at least not such an old and over-explored thought. and by continuing to live our lives here. The conflict cost over 600. This is. bitter at their defeat. across the American landscape. What may be a new thought. Christianity has given us an image of death and sexuality that we have based our culture around. we are always working towards the furtherance of our mighty military power-structure. Every chapter up until this point has been an attempt to defeat true evil—the evil of a system that has subjugated you and everyone you have ever met from the time they were born until this very day. With the end of the Civil War came then end of slavery . as many as twenty-million slaves were imported to America to work in conditions beyond heinous. however. like a plague. movies. The white man spread. It functions on all levels—turning all of your wants and needs against you.The Mandatory Murder Machine “It is sad to think that the first few people on earth needed no books. What he didn’t enslave. I believe that . America is a mandatory murder machine. we must accept it as truth. a Native American tribe rightly pissed at the white man’s encroachment into their territory. Whether we’re gunning down out own soldiers like we did in the Bonus March on Washington DC or shooting unarmed protestors as we did in the Kent State shootings . lynched black men. and only that which we conceive of as immorality can throw a monkey wrench into the spokes of the mighty mandatory murder machine of America. The white men massacred most of them. If you’re the least bit attentive. So begins the history of America. passed segregation laws. None of us want this to be the case and perhaps some new knowledge will reveal itself in the future which will invalidate the content of the previous sentence. In “Honor: Another String Tied To The Human Marionette. In “Whence Cometh Evil?” you learned that any notions of moral superiority are rooted in delusion. And if you can’t afford it. With their twin prongs of sexual promiscuity and sexual repression. tried to drive the settlers away. they have left you a confused wreck of insecurity looking to fill the whole inside yourself with any product that you can afford. they have found a means of cementing your conformity to their standards.” –Marilyn Manson. This system does not function on a single level. you are well aware of most of our all-American atrocities.and left-wingers alike. Whether you interpret the Bible as literature or as the final word of whatever God may be. the entire premise of the book that you hold in your hands. For now. formed racist organizations like the Ku Klux Klan. The day that Cain bashed his brother Abel's brains in. he enslaved. the only motivation he needed was his own human disposition to violence. In 1861. is the notion that it is our morality which has brought about this bloodshed. they’ll happily make you pay interest on it for the rest of your life.000 lives—a number beyond our comprehension in this era of modern warfare. What he didn’t kill. we are complicit in every murder America commits to stay afloat. With the concept of honor. Nothing More” you learned that honor is synonymous with obedience and little more than a means of manipulating you with the currency of respect that human beings naturally long for. 1999 In 1607 the colony of Jamestown was founded by England. because it is a machine that runs on blood. I don’t have to give you a full history lesson. The Algonquins. the Civil War began and America was at war with itself. This is not a new thought by any stretch. games or music to inspire cold-blooded murder. the poor Chinamen duped into leaving their homeland to come to America found a society that treated them like dogs on gunned them down the moment they misbehaved. from right.

Currently. with little effort. Ads appeal to what people really want in life. In "Obey Your Master" I examine the American drive to define success only in monetary terms. It probably has no place in this book. It would take a whole other book to fully delve into that issue though. our system does neither--both the individual and the masses work in service of the corporations and the government. One cannot be free when one does not have the freedom to pursue the truth. I don't know how useful it is to anyone but myself. A perfect race of flawless beings would. athletes in particular. but I thought it too humorous not to include. "My Various Failed Subversive Revolutions" was a self-mocking look at my half-baked attempts at disrupting the social norm. while not as synonymous as "obedience" and "honor" are inseparable. the chapter must seek to define truth in order to define freedom. In a society with this attitude. That's what you are to them--a tool. but in America sex and politics are in more dire need of separation than church and state. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. "Bitches Be Crazy" is another section that has more of a personal than a political touch. In "Free and Dumb" I further build the case that the government views you as property with no more right to control your destiny than a hammer. The world’s greatest bricklayer makes 10 bucks an hour. We must be aware of this culture's tricks if we don't want to become just another gear in their machine. .human beings making mistakes is a good thing. still be living in caves. "Democracy Is Fascism By Consensus" dispels. Ultimately. the notion that the people as an amorphous body should have any say in their governance. And that pretty much wraps things up. "The New Slaves" is a strong criticism of the American prison system. I suspect. Nothing gives you a clearer idea of a civilizations values than their ads. something to be utilized. "What Is Freedom?" might sound like a philosophical question. which is nothing more than a national string of labor camps where men and women are brutally mistreated and forced into labor against their will for the benefit of corporate America. In "Our Heroes" I point out our tendency to make idiots into heroes. In "Sorrow & Flatulence" a chapter that I tried to keep as light-hearted as I possibly could. In "Commercials For Mediocrity" I take a quick snapshot of the state of television advertisements in America. I relive the death of my father and pass on the lessons of that day to you. The system must exist to protect the individual from the masses. “In Defense of Evil” and the two following chapters one of those cool after credit bonuses. And why not? They're rich for nothing more than being skilled at the right thing. Consider the aphorisms in the chapter to follow the closing credits to the cinematic experience that is. not to protect the masses from the individual. "Honor Thyself" is about learning how to survive as an individual in a culture that will stop at nothing to destroy individuality. They are two concepts that. because only throughout folly can w advance. gangs of roving drug dealers armed to the teeth should be a surprise to no one. maybe 30 if he's in a union--the world’s greatest ball-thrower makes 30 million. but the story begged for a place in this book and sometimes you've got to let the words have their way. exploiting the outright vilification of those who dare to define it on any terms but those. but I examine it in terms that are— at least by my estimation—pragmatic.

you can become another person’s property. huge flames reaching from the buildings to the sky. SELF-DECEPTION FOR THE SAKE OF HAPPINESS—Religious people often place personal happiness above the drive towards empirical or personal truth. It courses through your veins. When you hate a cause. LOVE AND HATE—It’s easy to hate. How could I. It’s hard to love. That would take my breath away. It’s comforting. Everything that's supposed to be lovely is offset by the ugliness of my heart. When you hate yourself— truly despise your every breath—there’s nothing that can stand in your way. then what did they buy? If you can’t. it’s funny to see that cause fail. It’s fun to hate. who lies and hurts at every juncture. to some extent. reassuring you or your superiority. look at the beauty of a sunset and feel anything but wretched? The light of beauty only serves to illuminate my emptiness. throbbing. They don’t want to face a cold and unsympathetic universe because it is frightening. That would make me feel alive. It would make him feel better. It’s miserable to be in love or to love a thing. you can sell. of self-loathing— but never beauty. I resent them for the notion that deluding ourselves into believing a falsehood might improve the quality of our existence. BEAUTY— I've never seen anything breath-taking. But then. GREAT MEN—More great men have died than have ever lived. blotting out the stars with their smoke. I've never had a moment in my life where my breath was stopped by the sheer perfection of a sight. it’s easy to watch him die. you can sell yourself. but it would be demonstrably false and would cause him to exist within a world wherein his conclusions about himself were at odds with the conclusions of all others. Perception is. It would be absurd for a man with a miniscule penis to live under the impression that it was large and in demand.50 Aphorisms (In The Nietzschean Tradition) NOTE: several of the aphorisms in this section appeared previously in my first book. They will sacrifice any fact or any insight garnered through introspection upon the altar of happiness. like the buzz from a few pints of ale. towards the truth. When you love a person. making you feel small and useless. then even absolute freedom isn’t absolute. Therefore. you own yourself.’ They are included here because they are the only part of that book that I am still proud of. When you hate a man. gently if possible. ‘SCUMBAG: Musings of a Subhuman. ABSOLUTE FREEDOM—In a world of absolute freedom. When you love a cause. what if you change your mind? Can you tell them that they no longer own you and leave? If you can. It courses through your veins. it’s easy for them to stab you in the back. TRUTH—If the truth is hurtful to someone you care about and a lie is pleasant (and if it is your desire to please them and not to hurt them) then you should be true to your desires and lie to them. When you love yourself—truly adore your every breath—you have everything to lose. What does that say about me? PERFECTION—Being perfect is just another imperfection. It’s stifling. I would like to watch a city burn to the ground from a nearby hillside. I've known the intensity of fear. like smoke in the air. of hate. it’s easy for that cause to consume you. They don’t want to believe in death because it is too distressing. What you own. It is the most . reality—but when perception wholly contradicts the observable to such a degree that others are encumbered by said perception then it becomes the prerogative of the encumbered to instruct the perceiver and guide them.

So often. then it does not. MISANTHROPY—Misanthropes are the truest humanists. we find ourselves very uncomfortable in the moments where we are alone and undistracted. Why not? PRINCIPLES—The good thing about being a man of few principles is that I follow the ones I do have. THE FALLACY FALLACY—When you remove all fallacies from an argument. Otherwise. GREATNESS—Humanity is the antithesis of greatness.” People like violence. THE STRANGER—In this age of constant distraction. DECEPTION—The contrary nature of humanity renders the masses more easily deceived by an outright lie than a half-truth. ACHIEVING POWER—A gang of unremarkable thugs will prevail over the most remarkable of men without fail. the want for a few trinkets in the immediate costs us the cooperation that could have yielded all of us riches beyond measure. Short-sightedness is. then it is not. A building stands. If anything.honest course of action. Don’t confuse what’s possible with what’s good. you wind up with nothing more than disagreement for the sake of disagreement—which is the truth behind all of our disputes. These are tragedies. They don’t resort to it. Individuals cannot achieve power by opposing the masses. A man dies slowly of a terminal illness. Only when we cease to be human will we begin to be great. Flesh is intact. Talking to people on the street you would imagine that sex offenders must be worse by far than any other criminals. Skin cells die off over time. even in defiance of the law. A building becomes dilapidated and is eventually condemned. Anyone with love for the human race will find themselves so daily filled with bitterness and disappointment that hatred will become their only means of expressing their love. These are (though possibly sad) not tragedies. people resort to discussion/compromise. GREATNESS 2—Who is it that says that not all men can be great? Surely all men can be great in some respect. Having a sex drive doesn’t make you a monster. Treating people as though they . but it’s a boring truth so it can go fuck itself. The truth is that they are just horny people who did something stupid either because they are sociopathic or because they are too dumb to know better. then it is dead. only by controlling them. THE CRUX OF POWER—The more leashes your hold. ALL TRAGEDY IS CONTRAST—Something is alive. SEX OFFENDERS—Only in a country where sex is offensive would we have such a concept as sex offenders. RESORT TO VIOLENCE—Why do people always talk about having to “resort to violence. To be alone in this times is the be trapped in a room with a stranger. the wider and weaker your grip will become. why should they exist at all? FEASIBLE GOODNESS—Don’t confuse what’s feasible with what’s just. SMALL-MINDED GREED—Greed is not a vice. nor does acting upon that sex drive.

Global Warming. A man who gives good head is a man dedicated to pleasing you and what he is bad at at first he will improve upon over time. She is making it harder for all of them. perhaps a new idea of what is masculine and feminine are called for. Is no one else aware of this? I call the borejobs. The wall in front of me is an infinite distance away. If people don't respect authority. If they drive recklessly while intoxicated. All intelligent people recognize rules as wholly arbitrary. Reality is better than fantasy because it’s real. People who can’t stand the truth and have to live a lie are the most pathetic of people. made all the more pathetic by their attempts at building evidence to show how established fact is falsehood. Mouths have teeth in them. . I would never catch it. Upon further reflection. HORROR—The most profound terror doesn’t come from what is possible or inevitable. however. If I got up right now and ran towards it. The Holocaust. leave them be. It’s a bitter means of consoling themselves for their boring lives. but I think that all of humanity might benefit from them meeting in the middle. RAPE-VICTIMS—Rape victims allow themselves to be raped over and over again when they accept special allowances because of their “trauma. The sexes will never be the same. it makes you part of a monster. You are another cog in the machine whose purpose is the annihilation of liberty. I believe that the only reason most men truly desire blowjobs is because they know that a good number of women still don’t like giving them. ANDROGYNY—I read a report that testosterone levels had been steadily decreasing in boys from generation to generation. then drunks should be too. then arrest them for reckless driving. FUCK AUTHORITY—the reason people cheat so much is because society is so inherently dishonest and inconsistent in what it will and will not allow or tolerate. The ten need to beat the shit out of the one. Men always secretly desire that sex be totally joyless for his partner. SLEEP DEPRIVATION—I’m a point on a grid. More precisely. if you find a man who prefers eating you out to getting a blowjob.” For every girl that is raped and milks it for all its worth. Even if it falls short of expectation. At the time. DENIERS—There is something horrifically wrong with people who deny obvious truths: Evolution. it surpasses the banality of merely wishing something were happening. ten girls get over it and keep living their lives. does make you a monster. but from the impossible which has somehow been made to seem inevitable. And everything in front of me is expanding to terrifying horizons. Girls. GOODY-GOODIES—Anyone who follows the rules just because they're the rules lacks character and intelligence. DRUNK DRIVING—If old people are allowed to drive. it's because authority has shown itself to be beneath respect. Otherwise. I was distraught. FANTASY IS BETTER THAN REALITY—This sentiment is only held by people whose dreams have never come true. then you should fall in love with him regardless of how inadequate he is in all other areas. HEAD—Blowjobs are the most overrated sexual maneuver of all time. as a hairy male who likes violence.deserve the worst fate imaginable simply because they engaged in a sex act without the government’s seal of approval.

No soulful person likes all kinds of music. PETTINESS—There is nothing in life so satisfying as doing something completely petty and spiteful to someone whom you revile. but stagnation. If you are one of these people. BOOKS—Those who find themselves unsettled and unable to adjust to daily life are typically those who shun reading. BLUNT PEOPLE—People who don’t know the truth often speak bluntly in order to conceal this fact. Those who don’t read are the walking dead. The only cure for which is large sums of money. ENEMIES 2—Make friends of your old enemies whenever possible and tolerable to keep them from teaming up with your new ones. Human society could have advanced tremendously if not for the interference of religion. To stop smoking marijuana in order to legalize its use is like owning slaves while fighting for the cause of abolitionism. RELIGION—Religion’s greatest crime against man has not been enslavement or war. Without religion. Soulful people like particular sorts of music and despise the rest. either anticipated or dreaded. Without these landmarks the calendar would be a bleak place indeed. In other words. We are all irritants that make each other’s lives miserable from time to time. then you must do so. one is a skill and the other is merely a chore. ENEMIES—If your enemy wants to be loved. be aloof towards them. If you know one of these people. hate them. Without religion the funding of stem-cell research is obviously the correct path. CRUELTY—Good cruelty requires imagination. Only through constant reading can we being to appreciate life. It is as if they use their love for all music as a means of faking the presence of soulfulness. force yourself to touch others more often.COMEDY—The greatest comedy is that which is derived from the obsessive compulsive and hyperjudgmental voice inside of all of us. The only ointment that you can apply to misanthropic irritation is humor. Those who put up a barrier between themselves and other are either afraid of being contaminated or afraid of contaminating others. SMALL PENISES—There is no greater motivator than a small penis. touch them relentlessly. MUSIC—Many people without souls will claim that they are moved by all kinds music. LYING—To not tell a lie that you want to tell is to lie to yourself. HOLIDAYS—It is important that some days be special. JAILBAIT—It wouldn’t be called bait if it weren’t tempting. Kindness only requires effort. the acceptance of gays is a no-brainer. BREAKING THE LAW—The only means of fighting unjust laws is to break them. If your enemy wants to be hated. If you have deemed a behavior to not be immoral and you have a natural desire to engage in that behavior. TOUCH—Fear of touch is fear of self. .

HURTING OTHERS—Never hurt those who have not in some manner invited your wrath. but the man who insults you has invited back any measure of retaliation if he does not heed your warnings to this effect. Money is important because with it you can provide a good and lavish life not only for yourself but for those who you care about. not even self. Possessing mountains of money means nothing. .MONEY—Only through money and the right attitude towards money can man achieve happiness. The man who avoids conflict should be left alone. detach yourself from all things and renounce your place in this world. but it is far braver and ultimately more gratifying to experience attachment and be strong though periods of separation. You could. in and of itself. ACCEPTING THE IMPERMANENCE OF THINGS—Nothing lasts forever. as the Buddhist cowards do. THE RIGHT ATTITUDE TOWARDS MONEY—Money is without value.

I thank you all.” As in. It doesn’t mean anything. I’m nothing but a fat guy ranting in front of a camera. Very few take the paradox of the distinction to its natural. or nod your head with my grievances. you fuckers are nothing without me! NOTHING! I am spectacularly awesome in every conceivable respect and you’re lucky I bother to feign humbleness for even a second! Ha! . God of the Godless is self-negating. “nothing to see here folks. Only with your support do I become something more than that.” The point of the title is that I’m not important. Eh. self-deprecating. “I can’t believe I’m really talking to someone famous!” to me. Without you there to laugh at my jokes. I am an espouser of a particular belief system and it’s that belief system that is important. more precisely. conclusion.God Of The Godless “God of the Godless” is a title that I gave myself around the time my subscriber count on YouTube became five figures and people started saying things like. I’m still trying to convey a viewpoint and only you can give that viewpoint any meaning. Or. it means “nothing. who am I kidding. Most people look at the title as further proof of my massive ego. For that. Whether I’m dissecting society’s values or making jokes about Skeletor hijacking an airplane.

To believe yourself to be good or evil would require a level of selfdeception that I will never be able to muster. is grime. If a villain murders 200 people and then the hero catches and kills him. Another assumption that I’m uncomfortable with is that everyone who kills people is evil. There is a thick and potent residue of good on the surface of evil and vice-versa. and they will always call their evil good and call that which is truly good evil. I will never be able to call myself good. good and evil are tied with a score of 1 to 1. Or maybe that’s not the truth either. and though I fight for what I think it good and just with all my might. Maybe at the end of the day. What I’m talking about.” Even as a kid I was skeptical of that pronouncement. a world where the good people—those who hearts are brimming with compassing and soaring heights of understanding and sorrow—are labeled evil by those who are blind to their own evil. Even if the bad guy only killed one person and you kill him for it. If there are such things as good and evil than I would say that whatever brings humanity closer to a lasting peace and freedom is good and whatever brings humanity farther from that is evil. I don’t speak of balance. Not just one defender. because if it is then the majority of the species are evil. And this is all assuming that it’s really good to kill a villain. Terroja Kincaid December 8th. Only those of foolishly overbearing self-righteousness—the wearers of obscenely shiny goodguy badges would declare a man evil. then the good will need a defender. then why isn’t the hero evil for killing? Surely a sentient being is no less sentient and human simply because he has killed others. There’s always a bit of Yang in Yin and a bit of Yin in Yang. I’m just a man.Evil Always Triumphs Over Good The Saturday morning cartoons of my childhood had only one recurring truisms that I remember: “Good always triumphs over evil. but many—even if their words and deeds for the sake of good will be perceived as in defense of evil. I hope that this is not the case. then isn’t the score 200 to 1 in the villains favor? This notion of good emerging victorious isn’t supported by the numbers. “this is what you are?” No. If he’s evil for killing. If we truly live in that world. It’s nothing so orderly and easy to comprehend as that. 2008 . Does this make the instruments of these opposing ideologies in and of themselves good or evil? Can any human being be so lacking in complexity that we can stamp them with the good or evil stamp and say. ladies and gentlemen. The desire to do evil will never leave me. but I’m not prepared to call him evil because of them. it’s enlightenment and acceptance of the truth that makes men good and it’s ignorance and unfairness and thoughtless cruelty that make men evil. Was Che Guevara an evil man? I don’t agree with his politics or his methods.

I feel sorry for those photos. I don’t know if he felt as though there was some great photo potential or if he was just bored and passing time. I look at my own eyes in the mirror sometimes and try to see something that deep or soulful in myself and there’s nothing lit that there. I want to roll him a joint. What a waste. I could scarcely turn around without having a picture taken of me. he’s okay. It was a nice feeling. Before that we were at the beach and Scotty and Cody were both taking pictures like madmen. Even when he smiles. his eyes look like they’re watching someone precious die. I told Scotty days ago to conserve the weed we had. I think that’s what keeps me from having kids: the fear that they will be lame. Except I worry about the little lost pictures. I don’t think I could deal with that. Scotty sat beside me snapping endless blurry photos of the dark road. I envision them as Hansels and Gretels that never escape the woods again—their breadcrumbs have been eaten by the birds. his anxiety can get pretty overwhelming. Sometimes he will get shaky. I am terrified others see it too. We ate at the buffet. Nothing is wrong. Holly told me this morning that I was avoiding touching her. Cody always looks forlorn. like I was the father of a nuclear family and I was taking my son Cody to Disney World. I’m a pretty tough guy. His breathing patterns will change. Before that we were at the Hardrock Casino in Gulfport. I feel like those moments not worth sharing are moments that are lost. I feel terrible when I see him shaking. Cody has anxiety problems. I want to just close my eyes and keep driving until I crash. It made we want children of my own. but having a lame kid would break my heart in ways I don’t even want to imagine. because every photo represents a moment. I find sadness in the oddest little nooks of my existence. but I do know that I nearly crashed several times because I was watching him rather than the road. I just like the idea of being adrift in the blackness and not knowing when the impact will come. Then I started worrying that I’d have children like Lee Doren or Steven Crowder. Cody takes something like 800 photos a day and most of them are never seen because they’re just not good enough. I feel as fine as I ever feel.Visions of Impact Adrift in the blackness and not knowing when the impact will come There’s something oddly peaceful about driving a car at night. It’s not that I have a death wish. my occasional surrogate son and the potential lameness of my future children. as far as I know. but he still let Matt smoke it all. I don’t. But without that to calm him down. Cody kept leaving to use the phone and marveling at the sheer variety of cuisine. . It’s one of those days where she asks me a lot what’s wrong. I see something cruel in myself. Mississippi. If he has marijuana. Cody was in the backseat and I felt oddly paternal.

which is absolute dogshit. She thrusts. beautiful friend This is the end. You can't help but feel that life has somehow betrayed you. The weight of your identity sinks in again and the wet dreams that permeated your turbulent sleep fade away into erotic apparitions that dance with the shadows that squirm and writhe in the den of iniquity that your young mind has become. She straddles you like a goddess straddling a stallion. 6:15 AM reads the alarm. Maybe you will disagree. I hope so. She fucks you like you're nothing at all. You hit the snooze button and plunge your head back into the comfort of your fluffy white pillow. the alarm goes off again. For a moment. . Maybe you'll tell me that it's much better than I think it is. You are faced with the not-so-difficult decision as to whether or not to take a much-needed shower or to hit the snooze button and catch nine more minutes of sleep before going through your morning ritual of desperately masturbating while imagining yourself in extremely unlikely scenarios with bouncy-breasted girls from your high school. then getting up and tossing on whatever outfit happens to be closest and dashing out of the house at sonic speeds in hopes of maybe catching the bus. I'm warning you about the other 75%. CHAPTER ONE “The end is near!” –Homeless Crazies Everywhere “This is the end. my only friend The end of our elaborate plans The end of everything that stands The End” – Jim Morrison The alarm clock goes off like an air raid siren in the darkness of your cluttered bedroom. held there by the sweat of passion.RED DAY A really bad novel by 17-year-old TL Kincaid WARNING: Some of this book is actually pretty well written. her blazing blonde hair clinging to her face. You’re always the submissive party in your fantasies. with semen sliding lazily down your wrist. Maybe you'll adore it. 6:24 it insists with its droning cry of digital suffrage. in my opinion. you have no idea where you are. Instantly. That's not the part I'm warning you about. but everything in the world. And when you climax it rocks the foundations of all reality—but you're left lying on a dirty mattress in the disorder of your small bedroom. But I doubt it. You turn the accursed thing off and begin stroking your penis to the rhythm of a fantasy in which you are being sexually conquered by a girl from your Social Studies class named Crissi.

You also think to yourself how very. wipe your mess up with a T-shirt your grandmother sent you for Christmas (a bizarre artifact from her travels depicting the Statue of Liberty with the caption "Las Vegas. The girls behind you are talking about how Dave got dumped by Keri and the boys in front of you are talking about how Keri got dumped by Dave and you're thinking about how little you give a shit about Dave and Keri or anyone else in the world for that matter. They return to their small talk. stinking deathtrap of annoying gossip and ear-grinding country music. As you ride the bus. however. You don’t even have to run to catch the bus today. women being raped. Nevada"). watching the trees and houses go by. Of course. As always. You’re terrible with names. a white haired man with a Mike Ditka moustache who thinks no one notices that he ogles the female passenger’s butts when they exit the bus in the afternoons. You spend the bus ride gazing out the window. A brisk jog will suffice. because you've only got about three minutes to get dressed and be out the front door. No one pays him any mind. The losers sit up front. Socks present a problem. you think. hating your little life. "What was that?" someone exclaims. you know better than that. You spring from bed. you reflect). but it happens so quickly that you wonder if it happened at all or if it was just a trick of your eyes." answers the driver. "But there's not a cloud in the sky!" counters the boy indignantly. For a moment there is a great flash of red that encompasses everything in view. The cool kids sit in the back. and you step into your shoes with time to spare. You can't find two that match. there are children starving. countries going to war. country music is blaring incessantly from the new speaker system that the bus driver paid for with the money that he could have used to replace the ratty. throw on a Black T-shirt and a pair of baggy blue jeans with a mustard stain from the hotdog you ate two weeks earlier above the right knee. You don’t know his name. tattered seats that give the bus the distinctive odor of cheap burning. very much you hate Mondays. The world isn't a peaceful place. as if his intelligence has been insulted (which is has. The world looks rather peaceful from inside the yellow.No time to lament. . diseases killing hundreds of thousands and all sorts of other horrors that you can barely comprehend. Guess it’s not just me. trying to fix whatever’s wrong with them. You blink once and then again. Thinking quickly. you decide to do without them. You step on board and find a seat near the middle with all the other defaults. Those who don't want to be noticed--as well as those who have tried to be noticed and failed--sit in the middle: the defaults. "Probably just some Lightning.

You would just tell yourself that you didn't deserve it and feel bad about it. You wish it would burn to the ground.” Your grandfather used to say that. While everyone else is smiling and getting laid on a regular basis (if you believe the stories. Some mornings someone will get bored and notice you. no less—suddenly enveloping everything in view on a sunny day seems a bit ridiculous. So many people have suffered lives a thousand times worse than your own and maintained an optimistic viewpoint. Her diary was boring. Today you remain mercifully unnoticed for eleven minutes and the morning bell rings. If that is the case. what other possible explanation could exist? You struggle for a moment to come up with one. forgetting it like everyone else. You have an eleven minute wait in a hallway crammed full of your peers. You could have the world handed to you on a supermodel's tits and you'd still not be content. you tell yourself. He was as bitter as you are. But so what? They’re all depressing thoughts. Then again. This is your hell. But then. you suppose. No one is allowed to go to class yet. “Wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up first. You try to make yourself invisible to them. The school looks like a prison. and you’re not sure you do). The halls are full. Maybe it doesn't matter what happens to you. Maybe certain people are just happy and others just aren’t. You don't have the right to complain! You have it good. Anne Frank comes to mind. The bus reaches its final destination and everyone gets off. This is Myre High School. That’s a depressing thought. finding faults with the world and with yourself and discovering nothing but enmity for everyone and everything. It's 6:59. happiness is an impossible goal. aside from the lesbian bits. you're sitting and internalizing everything. Who with a brain in the world wasn't bitter and disappointed? Who with a mind couldn't find reason to hate everyone? Who with a conscience didn’t hate themselves? You're just jealous. but it feels like an exercise in futility. She believed people were basically good even when faced with what history would ultimately perceive as the perfect example of human evil. maybe she was just stupid. You walk into the institutional building. Classes begin at 7:10. so you default back to feelings of misanthropy and self-pity. The idea of lightning—red lightening. They will mistake your misanthropy for shyness (or maybe you mistake your shyness for misanthropy) and attempt to talk to you. and it usually works. You begin to walk to class.The sky is as clear as it could be. In those instances you ignore them until they get a clue and walk away in search of some other organism to interact with. but you’re stopped in your tracks by another flash of red light from .

You’ll process it somehow.outside. all that good stuff—but beyond that. but before anyone can offer a theory it happens again. Empty sensation. Others are walking out past you to view the horror for themselves. Even in your soul-dead distress you feel a twinge of amusement as you realized that the exact opposite of your near-daily wish had come true. the land is charred black. only this time it is much louder and it doesn't relent. trees. You’ll come to accept it. People start uttering confusioned whispers and dumb questions. You stand there for a moment longer before going back inside. and there are people in the parking lot—parents who were dropping their kids off as well as students and a few faculty member—staring into the darkness and deadness outstretched before them with dumbfounded looks on their faces." you think. Most of them . None of them acknowledge you. and so will most of them. confused minds. You’re not sure why you went inside except to not be outside. stomping on you—but there’s no pain. You ball yourself up on the floor and begin to pray to whatever god you think might listen. The entire world (for as far as you could see) had burned down. You see that for about two hundred yards in front of you. Irony: gotta love it. The skeletons of a few houses still stand and here and there. Everything is moving very slowly. The ground shakes below your feet. everything is basically normal—there are cars parked in their parking spaces. You rise to your feet and walk exit the building that you had entered only sixteen minutes earlier. You can feel people falling on you. Everyone walks vacantly and uncertainly through the halls. and that’s even worse. You immediately go numb from the inside out. but from what and to where? Everyone is crashing into one another. grass. You can see that in their faces. and the school remained unscathed. you are left in a hallway full of vacant-eyed teenagers who don't seem to know where they are or even who they are. You see that the sky is dark with smoke and dust. It sounds as if the world is being torn apart. tripping over you. People are running. but that doesn’t alleviate your fear. The ground is shaking violently and red light pulsates everywhere. "When the shock wears off and our minds try to process this. It feels good to feel nothing. They're going to snap. When the madness finally ceases and the last embers of red fade away. "we'll just snap and turn into blubbering idiots forever. Others look like they wish they were dead. All of the sudden. everyone looks like you—dead eyes." No. Some of them look relieved to be alive. unable to process what has happened. just sensation. but it's no better in here. clawing and biting their way to find some sort of safety that nowhere on campus could possibly provide. Events unfold like scenes from a cartoon with warped reels. This time it is immediately followed by a large explosion and a chorus of screams.

A lot of the fainters were taken into Mrs. but you don't know where your homeroom is. "I let you sleep for quite a while. You don't think you've ever seen her before. "We're in Mrs. But you do recognize her. The shaking subsides and the fat figure rises to its feet. but you don't. Your throat is dry. DAY TWO: JOHNNY AND THE SKY "Hey. "I know you. and you can see little lights that aren't really there dancing in the blackness. you motherfucker!" says a voice from somewhere in the darkness." "W-where are we?" you ask. relaying her message to all. Then the floor suddenly hits your face and everything goes black. The books. wake up! Wake up. man. "Everyone! Everyone.don't look like they're feeling anything at all. and it’s a privilege you will never have again." he informs you." you say to her. and everything gets rough around the edges. or even what a homeroom is. She ignores you and runs down the hallway with a rapid succession of baby-steps. Calloway's class. You want to do as she is saying. You feel light-headed. You say something to nothing but you can't understand yourself. The room is as dark as a cavern. but when you fainted in the halls I was right there and it was easier for me to lug you into here. the lesson-plans and all those things you had the foolishness to call Hell once were the cozy little life that you’d taken for granted. shaking you violently. Bradbury’s classroom. listen! Everyone go to your homeroom classes! Everyone to your homeroom classes immediately!" says a little fat woman with curly hair that has been badly dyed a hideous shade of red. the teachers. It's just you and me and those guys over there in here. . This was Hell. You can't make out their genders or races. You sound like Clint Eastwood talking to some 'punk' in a dirty Harry movie. "I'm awake. whispering amongst themselves. and speaking is difficult. gesturing to the other end of the room where you spot three figures sitting in a circle. somehow. There’s to much blood in your head. Boredom is a privilege." you say. Then you open your eyes and you can see a large form hovering over you. trying to remember what set of circumstances had led up to this point.

" you reply. and maybe this is a bit too philosophical for the day after. "Oh my God. positioning himself to lift you from your arm and shoulder. three. but Mr. "on the count of three. One. the back ends facing the school are perfectly all right. Three white buildings that you normally wouldn't have even registered now seem like beautiful artifacts of a long lost time. but the fronts. I guess you can plainly see that . Well. two. The decimated landscape. You look at it from the right angle and everything looks fine. Food is the most important thing right now. this time seen from the back of the school. we found one old woman. Well." you say. You see. We did find some food though. but she must have died of fright when the whole thing went down. while you were comatose. Whatever destroyed them was so powerful and so concentrated that it destroyed one half of each of those houses without doing any damage at all to the other halves. yesterday."Who're you?" you ask him. but I think those houses are our world how it used to be. he extends his hand to you. and outside where the world as it is hits you like a sack of bricks. ." he says. "You sound like you could use a drink. you know. Johnny Yarrows. You got it?" "I think so. If there was ever a God watching over us. If you get on up. brings back your memories of yesterday and you fall to your knees in shock and horror. well. "Well. "We didn't find any survivors." "Will you at least help me up? I'm feeling sort of weak and really sore. Up we go. down the stairs. I'm lucky my fat ass didn't have a heart attack too." With that. you don't want to go inside. and we found that they aren't really in tact. a few of us went over to investigate those houses. but you keep it together and follow him up the hall. He removes his support and you feel dizzy at first. but now that we're living in the end times and all." he says. Alva routed it so it only goes to powering the Kitchen. My name is John. uncertain even of who you are. right on the verge of the destruction?" "Yeah." you say. "Oh shit." "Alright. because I'll be damned if I'm gonna carry you. I'd prefer you called me Johnny. We only have about two weeks worth of food in there. we have a generator that could power the school for like three days. he's abandoned us now. "Do you see those three houses over there. . I can take you to where the water is. "God? Humph. Anyway. nearly falling. You place your hand within his and he shakes it warmly. We had to turn it in to the school though. facing the street--or where the street used to be anyway--are gone. I'm sorry. See. but when you're inside .

Look. Bradbury's room. "I'll be coming back. for once. The one taxpayers were getting all pissy about. I thought of that yesterday when I was wishing that none of this had happened. now shined brightly like diamonds in the night sky. not wanting to talk anymore. "Oh. sounding a little hurt. Most are leaning up against the wall. but doesn't move for a moment. Jeez. . There are other kids outside. man." "Mine always said. If one patch of land was left untouched. It makes you feel sick when you come back up and lay on your back. They take little notice of you. tears rolling down your face. I'm sorry." He nods. as my grandfather used to say. "you know the way back to Mrs. get a sense of humor. the water tastes a bit nasty. I know." you say emptily. but . smoking and looking out into the bleakness. looking up at the crescent moon." you tell him. Later. they might be okay. but beggars can't be choosers. but you manage to hold it down." "My family. They're all dead. which had once been hidden by light pollution. I had her fifth period. anyway. I guess we still are. . Yeah. because if it weren't for that pond we'd all be fucked. right?" "Yeah. get on to your hands and knees and lower your face into the water.it's always been the most important thing to me. . I seriously doubt that we were the only ones spared." he says." you tell him. well. You can't help but smile a little. I don't know. Everyone. getting back to your feet. man. it stands to reason that there are others out there. It is the most beautiful night sky you have ever seen. the bureaucratic fuckers did something that paid off. you can wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up first. gulping up as much as you can. "What if your wish was to have a handful of shit?" he asks. "Aw." With that. Shit. "Sure. It's the apocalypse. I just. The stars. You walk to the pond. 'How come you assholes can dig scenic ponds with our tax money but not afford to pay the teachers or replace textbooks?' Well." "Where's the water?" you ask. jeez. he turns and goes back inside. "Would you mind leaving me alone for a while?" you ask him. "The pond that they put in last year. Look lively. heh. Well.

"Sorry. when you go into the back door. One of the tiles is a little discolored. "He's watching over us with a great big fuck-you smile on His face and a great big hand on His almighty dick. Bradbury's in there now. "You got some crazy. Now that everyone is dead. most people are cooperating. God. it seems. curled in the fetal position. Mr. but I guess the old bastard's just not cynical enough to realize that. Alva. and any attempt to subvert it will result in certain death. so to speak." you say to nothing and no one." you say. I get it. Bradbury's class was kind of the last haven of the resistance. From there you take a right and go through a door into a laundry room. If you look up. Chaos is inevitable in this situation. Mrs." Your laughter tapers off into sobbing and you lay there for a great long while. three simple words: I get it. Um. crazy or overcome by woe. Our own private stockpile. you shuffle back to Mrs. repeating over and over again with steadily dying conviction to the premise. Johnny is waiting for you at the door. our beLoved fascist principle. cold. you'll see a tiled ceiling. "but I get it. "He's not dead or gone. has never been happier. God. the sky is amazing." you say. you’ll be in the kitchen. This strikes you as humorous in a deep. I'm trying to say that you're invited. However. and since the attic was towards the back of the house it's completely intact." A warm wind blows and the reeds protruding from the murky pond's moonlit surface nod vigorously as if in affirmation of your assessment of God and his role in all that has occurred. I'm rambling. "You don't want to go back in there. well. "Okay. rocking back and forth on your side. fucked up sense of humor. "Anyway. It sounds like a good offer. kind of. I get your little joke. we sort of found this hidden attic entrance that no one else is likely to notice. unless it's where they're supposed to be. bitter way and you chortle madly with your legs flailing. *** Like a zombie. and she's bitching out anyone who comes in. He can best handle the situation by leaving everyone the fuck alone. Mrs. Bradbury's classroom. If you press it you’ll open the big panel so stand clear .When everyone was alive and happy the sky was ugly. See. We--and maybe this is sort of under-handed--hid all the nonperishables in the attic so no one would find them. is trying to maintain his illusions of control by getting everyone to report to their homerooms until he can figure out how to 'best handle the situation'. myself and those shady looking characters you may have spotted in the shadows plotting nefarious schemes have conceived a plot to meet in the last white house on the right tomorrow night. You gonna come?" "Yes.

" "Why invite me? You don't even know me. and yesterday ." "No one knows you." . This is the time of tribes. when it is perhaps the greatest flaw of our species. and inevitably wind up destroying us. . but make us dependant upon them in the process. there is a piece of string tide to the bottom rung of the ladder. Have you ever known anyone who used crack?" "My Uncle did. You got all that?" "I do. No. It's how we close it back up. when you climb up. "but I have a question. "That kind of shit permeates human nature though. toothless and thin enough to get blown away if--lord forbid--you should forget to cover your nose when you sneeze . I think yesterdays sky looked like Crack. We always seek out immediate gratification that leads to misery later on." "How the fuck did people ever get addicted to crack? What in crack-user history would lure anyone into believing that they can do it without becoming addicted? Do you know anyone who 'casually' smokes crack 'once in a while'? I sure as fuck don't. bring it with you." he replies. From there you just unfold the ladder and climb on up." "And a skies that look like drugs. . " "The worst?" "No. if you think about it.and it'll fall out. We fuck people who look like walking disease factories for a quick orgasm and risk contracting illnesses that could destroy our lives. We eat a pack of Oreos per day and feel miserable when we're fat disgusting things that no one wants to have sex with." you say. . We've both been loners. We live in the moment." you say. It killed him too. We vote for whoever can save us a little money in the short run even if it fucks us in the long run. No one knows me either. Maybe so. "We do drugs that get us high for a little while. The only people I've ever met on crack have been slow-witted. the sky out there tonight looks like the best acid trip of all time.. "Well." "Shoot." "Yeah. "What do you mean?" he inquires. but this isn't the time for loners anymore. and preach it as if it were a virtue. . Oh.

" "But what about things like this that are out of our control?" he retorts." he shoots back." you say. "Hey. "I'll see you tomorrow. . ." he says." you say. . You recognize her as Mrs. *** You don't go to your homeroom." you interrupt. I don't either. "Sure. according to Nietzsche--" "--Not now. "That's cool. Hey." You think he's lying. "It's still on us to decide how to react. You've seen the sunrises before. and that doesn't seem surprising to you either. Johnny. you!" shrieks an unsettlingly scratchy voice that could only belong to a teacher. but I don't feel like having a philosophical debate right now. Instead you go outside again and watch the sunrise. um. "What are you doing out here? You're supposed to be in your homeroom. but never really stopped to take one in. and no one else can be held accountable for what we do or how we feel. What is your name?" You tell him and he nods. It rises over the scorched horizon. a tiny woman with tightly pressed lips and a face like a dried prune." "You too ." "Maybe other people just don't think enough." "Okay. It wouldn't surprise you if she had reacted with delight. She looks as though all that has happened hasn't even fazed her. but its beauty isn't lessened by this." "Well." she asks with a distasteful look on her face. The black land contrasting with the bright yellow sun creates an intoxicating effect. but strangely enhanced. illuminating the destruction."I think we think too much. You turn to face the voices owner. a woman with a reputation as the most insidious creature to prowl the halls of Myre High. but that makes you appreciate his understanding all the more. We make our own lives while we're here. Brody. "that's the only thing that's ever brought me misery. "blame it on everyone else. "I'm sorry.

but she looks anyway and sees it. "Alright. With her gone. "Mrs. You said you want to go check it out yourself ?" "Yes. It's probably about five miles away--maybe more. find out who she is and send her and escort her to her homeroom. Brody. would you please go after her. Mr. "I did. a tactic that succeeds quite nicely. Alva! You stay right here. "Shit!" she yells before turning around and running off. Mrs. it is shimmering. Alva rolls his eyes." you say in the most persuasive voice you can muster. Alva arrives. but I have to see for myself. I do." you tell her dismissively. "You saw it too." he instructs the wretched woman. young man?" he asks. not speaking to Mrs. with salt and pepper hair and a big solid gray mustache. He is an old man. She lives to reprimand." he says." ." "I've got a better idea. the sun has risen too high and is shining too brightly for one to see the shimmering thing in the distance any longer. now." you say. Alva standing around in a circle. which makes him look younger than he is. because something has caught your eye. you see something shimmering in the sunlight. Her cruel face turns red with anger and she begins screaming (screeching) at you. "Look at that. maybe less. By the Time Mr. Brody and Mr. I know. You stay because you are captivated by this sparkling beacon of hope in a world of things dead and things dying." He bites his lower lip in consideration before speaking once more. "You know it'll probably be a disappointment?" "Yes. Brody." You do stay there. I'm going to need you to keep quiet about it. She jumps at the opportunity. "Oh my goodness!" she exclaims. "Why not just send me to check it out?" Another student rounds a corner to come upon the scene of you. but not because she told you to. but whatever it is. "but it could also be nothing at all."I'm watching the sunrise. he turns his attention back to you. but you've ceased to pay attention. In the distance. "I'll get Mr." you say. "This could be something great for us. sir. Until we know for sure. hoping to enrage her.

you know. but you've had practice. When everyone realizes that you can't provide for them. Do you know who you want to take with you?" "I only have one friend here really." you say. the door opens and Johnny walks in with a big shit-eating grin on . "The control you have now is fleeting." you say. "I'll send for him." Mr." "Big kid?" "I think he'd prefer to be called fat. Everyone will be soon. "I knew. "So. and I want you to wait for nightfall before you head off. I'll see to it that the faculty stays out for now. Alva says. rise from your chair and allow him to escort you to the teachers lounge." you tell him. extending his arm towards an uncomfortable looking chair in front of his desk." "You're awful cynical for your age. You've got intelligence in your eyes. in case anything happens." You nod in agreement. "I want you to wait in the teachers lounge until then. I'll let you go. looking at the floor. I can tell. Okay. He instructs everyone in the office to leave you alone while you are staying there." "It's going to be lost anyway. I kind of have you pegged as someone who doesn't much enjoy the company of others. I have a compass you can use so that you don't lose your way. but I want you to take a friend with you." he tells you." "The rules we're trying to establish are for your own good. what were you doing outside anyway?" "I was watching the sunrise. what little order that's left would be lost. After ten minutes or so."Well. "Sit down. into the staff area and finally into his office. through the hallways. I can understand that. "I didn't care. "I've never really watched the sun rise before. If everyone just wondered around. and for this you appreciate him tremendously. You do as bid. I just wanted to see what kind of kid you were before I sent you out to find hope for us. even though he must already know the answer. you're going to have an insurrection on your hands." "Did you know you were supposed to be in your home room?" he asks." you say. returning the smile. Follow me. smiling for the first time since the conversation began." He leads you back into the school. I guess you're as good a man for the job as anyone else. His name is Johnny Yarrows.

I think I trust you two more than them." "Understood." says Johnny. "It isn't hard to see outside. "I'm fat. padre?" You explain the situation to him. Alva. because I've had teachers volunteer. It was given to me by my father as he sent me off into the world. Mr. The room is pitch black now. A few hours later." he says. "It's nothing special. You need to watch out for one another. blankets and some bandages in this backpack" says Mr. Johnny?" asks Mr. You've got about a weeks worth of food in there. which you ingurgitate in moments. and because something tells me you'll need it. He hands you the book bag and adds. it's definitely going to be frightening. The room is very dark. food.' I never did of course. Are you sure you want to do this. "Hell. really." He plops a coin down in your hand. Alva is no more than a silhouette." he says. looking unhealthily excited at the prospect of exploring the ruins of the world. "Could you excuse your friend and I for a moment. goddammit. a teacher brings you both an inadequate portion of food.his face and asks. "What the hell did you volunteer me for. I need more than this to keep up my physique. "because I see a lot of myself in your eyes. but to be honest. and be careful. "Oh. "There is a compass in the front compartment. I knew I made friends with you for a reason. but I've provided you with a flashlight. He told me. "I have something else I want to give you. man." he says." he says. 'This is your lucky quarter boy." You both doze off around three and are woken up by Mr. Alva at nightfall. closing it behind him." says Johnny." "It's probably going to be a bit frightening out there. No prob. I won't eat it all on the first day. you need to turn back. "So we're gonna save the fucking day. "just a plain old 1958 quarter. You'd better turn it into a fortune. but when Vietnam rolled around and I . huh? Sounds fun. more soberly than you've ever heard him speak. so if you don't find anything in three or four days." "We'll try not to disappoint." he tells you." He walks through the door. "I'll just wait right out here." It is too dark to tell but you think that the old man smiles at this. sure. "And don't worry. "I'm glad to hear it. Alva.

verging on raving at times. The charred ground crackles like snow under your feet. but even so." You don't want to accept such a personal gift from someone. 'I am so beyond your means. Not her though." you say. but something inside you warns you against refusing it. you are grateful for his presence. . I was gonna say Alley Bowers. who do you jerk off too?" he suddenly asks. but like to believe that it helped. Something tells you that you just might need it. "Nothing. You know. "Good choices. and then they complain when they wind up with some retard. Wish in one hand . and weaving through them all confuses your sense of direction. yet subtle." you say. Still. Many obstacles lie in your path. I don't have a single class with her and I never saw her in the hall or anything except for once or twice. kicking up dust and ash that fill the warm air with an unpleasant. "Who's your favorite girl from School? I mean. It makes you want to fuck her till she's cross-eyed." Yeah. I mean." you answer. She dresses with some fucking class. Dear God. she would have been a fucking model one day. chatting incessantly. The compass is an invaluable tool. I can barely believe I forgot about her. this environment is not one you would ever wish to brave alone. Johnny follows at your side. Shit. I kept it with me the whole time. I think you need luck more than I do. You'd masturbated to thoughts of Crissi just yesterday. she’s got that look on her face. I mean. "Huh?" Johnny puzzles. like. that one that says. Had it really been less than 48 hours ago that you had woken up at home in your bed and casually masturbated to thoughts of being dominated by a girl in your Social Studies class? That somehow seemed more implausible than anything else. the ass on her is just INCREDIBLE! And she never dresses really slutty either. "Either Crissi Drake or Lisa Martin. I can't honestly say that it kept me alive. I . if this shit wouldn't have happened. but I forgot about Crissi somehow. A lot of girls now think that guys go for that ultra-slutty thing. All and all.got drafted. even if you know she could chew you up and spit you out. *** The light of the moon and the stars is more than sufficient to illuminate your way. Now though. . odor. Thinking out loud. "Shit in the other. it isn't nearly as bad as you had come to expect.

" you say. DAY THREE: THE WEED GARDEN. man. of my father. I think saying is actually the best word to use." he says with his usual uppity charm. You both sit down on it. "I don't know much about her. "We fell asleep. It's hard to categorize since it's in the form of a question and it's not particularly clever. I'm blaming us--as in the two of us combined." you yawn out dismissively. You are being shaken violently. I'm smarter than even I thought.don't know who that other girl you mentioned was though. as you shake off and fold up the blanket on . but she's got really pretty eyes. We've been going for fucking hours. asshole. You pull out a blanket and cover the charred ground with it. We fell asleep!" shouts Johnny into your ear. ." "Lisa Martin. I just reminded myself . man!" you hear as you emerge from a vast darkness. . 'You call yourself a man?' was one of his favorite little sayings. but I don't know what the word for it would be. and you rolLover to discover that it is daylight outside. "What's wrong?" you ask with genuine concern that you didn't expect in your voice. feeling your weight cause it to sink an inch or so into the scorched earth with a sickening ashy crunch." you say. "Nothing. "Her body is fine. set it down and begin rummaging through it. yeah. "Don't blame me." "Eyes! Jesus!" he yells with mock indignation. "Shit. though it's difficult to make any estimations through cloth." "Yeah. You sush him harshly and let out a beastly yawn." You nod and come to a halt." "Eyes? You can't stick your dick in her eyes. yeah. Even in the moon and starlight it's obvious. I guess it's not much of a saying. "You're the one who wanted to stop. MONOLITH THE ROACHES AND THE "Wake up! Wake up. "You call yourself a man!" The humor is suddenly drained from his face. "Let's stop a minute. She's got tits and ass galore and I'm sure her pussy is just fine. grab the backpack off of your shoulders." "I'm not blaming you. Well." you answer. man! Tell me about her body!" You chuckle and say." "Dictum? Maxim? I don't know. We are a fucking low-rent Louis and Clark.

think of your friends. If a strong wind were to kick in. I think. unless of course you hate your own existence." "That is logical. "We should have stopped by the house and crabbed some of the canned food from the attic." you say. You wash them down with carefully rationed sips from one of the four bottles of water provided for the trip. To journey through the decimated world in the daylight is much more frightening than traveling it in the darkness of night. "but that certainly doesn't work towards my survival." he replies. In the darkness." you say. how could something possibly mean more to me than my own life? It defies logic. which was probably the only thing the school had that wouldn't spoil in a day. less then satisfied with the paltry rations." Johnny replies. you can imagine that there are horrors all around you. the sandwiches will be less than delectable." said Johnny.which you slept. but I value my own life more highly than the lives of others. I want to get moving. "Not right now." you tell him. "Well." "I can live with that. I mean. "but when you examine things more closely you see that the people most prone towards selfish behavior are those that are full of self-loathing. however. walking man. thinly veiling impressed surprise. "Yo. They have as much a right to it as you. The backpack is lying where you left it (and why shouldn't it be?) so you return the blanket to it's proper place and resume your journey. and it might be true. Marching forth. I think their selfishness is sometimes even the reason for their self-loathing. I guess you could call me a coward if you wanted to. but when the light comes on and the horrors are worse than you even imagined--the twisted wreckage of tangled vehicles. you imagine. it would fill the air with the dust of dead things. We'll grab something later. "Let's at least get an hour behind us. We hid a can-opener up there too." "Who the fuck put you in charge?" asks Johnny in mock anger. actually. the black skeletons of middle class housing. the day is windless. Utterly windless. that by the seventh day. Thankfully. how about a little breakfast first?" asks Johnny. It seems natural too. the burnt and fallen trees--and ash everywhere. combating hunger and exhaustion. "I did. it is noon before you stop again and finally sit down for a meal of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It certainly is in at least . Frighteningly windless. "Everyone has a right to it if you view things from a purely moralistic stance.

but somehow they manage to look infinitely more repulsive to your mind than any other creature in all of existence. . "I guess. They're highly adaptable creatures. They are lush green and vine like. Once again. something about them that is intrinsically disgusting. It isn't until three hours later that another noteworthy occurrence comes into play." you say. "I saw a special on them once. "but how?" "I haven't the faintest fucking clue." Only fifteen minutes later you make another astonishing. You and Johnny happen upon a garden of weeds growing forth from the ash beside the blackened remains of what was probably once a library. resuming your pace towards the east." says Johnny. as if you have been awakened to their presence. whereas it would really fuck up a human being because we're so complex and there's more shit that can go wrong with us. They're not that different in appearance from a beetle. discovery while walking around a scorched pick-up truck. you can expose them to radiation. There's something about them that you have always hater. even though any obvious answer eludes you. For instance. but perhaps unsurprising. I hate the little fuckers. "Amazing. in the shadows of rocks and fallen trees-everywhere." you say." he says with a touch of sad finality. " Nature's ironic. you gather up your things and resume your journey again.some instances. I would. and a cockroach is climbing up what was left of its right leg. isn't it?" "Moronic." "I guess people like you and I know a little something about self-loathing. you think to yourself. You glance into the vehicle through an open window at the blackened skeleton of unknown gender or ethnicity. m'man." he says. "Everyone always said they'd survive the end of the damn world. entangled in one another so that there is no telling where one ends and another begins." you say. "Yeah. From then on. you begin to notice roaches everywhere: under cars." you tell him. in the remains of houses. and because of the simplicity of their design. they will evolve to survive it in a generation or less. if I could kill them all.

" And so. but does. okay?" "Okay. and neither of us say it. ." he says. you find yourself by the side of your only friend in the entire world." says Johnny." you say. "I think I do. one terrible word rings through your head: LEGION . Breathlessly you say to your friend. this is something which was erected afterwards ." he says. In great golden lettering is written a single word that should not mean anything to you. but afraid to round the giant stone yourself. but by whom." he chokes out when he reaches it's other end. Your steady walking paces turn into brisk jogs and then full speed runs towards the towering monolith. but I want you to tell me. . after a moment stretched into a lifetime. and to what end? It's black marble." Johnny walks around to the other side."Oh my God. after a moment of horrified captivation. but I want you to tell me. "I think I do. afraid to look at it until it is absolutely necessary to do so. When you finally reach it it becomes very apparent that this was not something that survived what you have come to call Red Day. No more than 100 yards ahead of you there stands a great black stone which you estimate to be twenty or thirty feet high and probably four feet wide. Cautiously." That's what you were afraid of. "I don't know. "Holy shit. you walk to the other side of the monolith with your head down. jolting you from your reverie." he replies. "what does it mean?" "I don't know. alerted by something in his voice. Finally." says Johnny suddenly. "You have to come see this. "Let's just both know it. Johnny Yarrows and you look up at the thing that stands before you. "What is it?" you ask. all the while. never moving his hand from its surface. you turn away from the monument and continue towards the East. It doesn't take you long to spot what he is oh-my-Goding. "feel how smooth it is!" "I'd rather not touch it.

and then some other kind of governing body would probably come to power and . The roaches. if we don't find something out here. and I haven't liked any of them. you think." "We did find something. or at least get lost within the clutter of your mind. If we don't find anything by tomorrow." says Johnny. scuttle into darkness. An icy shiver runs down your spine and throughout your body. I don't think we should go back. "In fact. "We should get moving." you tell him with a bitter little grin creeping up around the corners of your mouth. "It's never too early to be a smart ass. "'Zit mornin'?" asks Johnny groggily from behind you." you say. Johnny reacts with a solemn nod. but you are watching the sunset once again. Let's get moving." you whisper. scratching his head through his greasy. tangled brown hair.DAY FOUR: WELLS It is early in the morning and you have just awoken from a troubled sleep. "Unless sunrise has been rescheduled to some other time of day. Formless horrors. "Do you seriously think they'll resort to cannibalism?" "I'd be surprised if they didn't from a historical perspective. "Well. Johnny still lies a few feet behind you in a deep sleep." Johnny giggles at this. frightened by the new light of the rising sun. You don't spot it." "Geez. It's too early for sarcasm. fat boy. in fact." he says. They'll be as foodless as we will in a few days. we'll have to head back." "Legion. filled to the brim with nightmares that you cannot remember." he says. Fear is irrational when you consider we're probably dead no matter what we do. They've probably been crawling on us as we slept. and you begin to feel nauseous. "yes. waiting to see if you might catch a glimpse of the shimmering thing that had lured you out into this desolate desert of ash and death. so why return there to chaos and cannibalism when we could stay here?" "So you could eat me? Fat chance." "Yeah. sitting here shitting ourselves over it wont help us any. and this causes whatever hope left in your spirit to die away. The teachers would be the first to go. "What am I doing out here?" you ask yourself. "We've found a lot of things. yet they linger in your mind.

This earns you another solemn nod from Johnny. "Do you wanna eat now?" you ask. I'm not hungry. after a few months." you tell him. which have practically become grafted to your feet from sticky sweat. and without the use of linguistic communication. you squash it under the toe of your ash-black tennis shoes. I hear that they're cannibals too. "I hate those little fuckers. you wish you'd stayed home so that you could have died with everything else. if you think about it. no society can survive solely on cannibalism." says Johnny. holding out his hand for the water bottle. when it is decided mutually. instead of being cursed to live on by some fluke in nature's design for the apocalypse." you say. somewhat disturbed by the scenario he's presented to you. You both walk on in silence until around noon. haven't you?" you ask. only they can breed as fast as they can eat. I can wait till tonight. You can eat now if you want. "Since day one. I think I'd puke it up right now." you say. and you sit down beside him." "Each other. Of course." says Johnny. Contemptfully. "I think they thrive just to mock us. "Nah. alternative food sources might manifest themselves. "It is hot as a motherfucker out here today." "No. Johnny sits down on a blackened--but serviceable--park bench." "Red day. "That's at least one big difference between us and them." you say. for a moment. which you hand him after taking a sip yourself. "I wonder what they're eating. You wish." says Johnny. In fact. But. because human beings eat far more often than they reproduce. that you had put on socks on that faithful morning. maybe. .they'd most likely select the human feast from there. that it's time for a break. or else the cruel prank of some bitter God in a lonely sky with only clouds and commuter jets to keep him company. A cockroach scuttles by--this one seemingly unafraid of the light." "You've dedicated a lot of thought to this.

I mean."What do you mean?" "I think the reason we hate them so much is because they sort of reflect that side of humanity that we don't like to show. I guess that has validity." "That's enough ramblin' out of you for today boy. So where does this great and wonderful fucking virtue of intelligence come into the picture. except they don't have our weaknesses. the only thing that is dying is a little walking machine incapable of anything but surviving for the sake of surviving." "But they don't have the cognitive powers of a human being. but intelligence it overrated. because I sure as fuck don't see it!" You say something then that you never even knew you believed until that very moment: "Well. When a roach dies. and even those that can usually do so because they get a thrill out of it. which is proof. adaptable and cold. but the thing is that without your mind you wouldn't care at all about anything. shit. thus offending the morality that we developed through that very same goddamned intellect. "And what's more. The intellect. because no one roach is any different from any other. well that's true. I'm a smart guy. because when a person dies a whole lot of memories. I think. that even those you hold contempt for human life understand that the end of a human life is intrinsically more significant than the end of the life of any other living creature on this planet. they infest and destroy any habitat they're introduced into--they're just like us in a lot of ways." "The what?" "The brains. not sure how else to reply." says Johnny facetiously. That's why I can smash any roach on this planet and not feel a thing. where we use bombs made possible by science to destroy our enemies because they're intelligence enabled them to form conceptions different than our own. I make mistakes every fucking day and watch idiots with brains small enough to eat in one bite get more joys and accomplishments out of their lives than me. They're a superior model of humanity: resilient. Where is the virtue in genius when everything that springs from genius is horror? Intelligence has given us wars over nothing. it doesn't even have any sort of practical application. ideas and feelings are dying too. but if they did it would be irrelevant. Roaches might not go to war. but I probably wouldn't be able to kill another human being. . When a human being dies it's a whole different story. but it's never made my life any easier. They gravitate towards darkness." "Oh.

"I think I know what'll happen if we get this riddle wrong." you say. Alva's lucky quarter. "Just wish them away!" "That won't do any good. shaking their antennae at the sky." you tell him calmly. When you get as close as you could ever want to. "Aw. In the ominous landscape they are so completely out of place that they create a feeling of absolute foreboding. I don't think it works like that. "We ought to just wish that none of this shit ever happened." gurgles Johnny." you complete." says Johnny. "Wish in one well. You cautiously make your way over to the two wishing wells. . Before you are two limestone wells that look as though they were pulled straight form the pages of a children's storybook. . as if it were made of some unearthly metal. and it increases tremendously as you get closer. Johnny close behind. the air fills with a shrill and completely unpleasant noise." you say to him. . "And to think. ." you tell him. And see which one fills up first. shit in the other . battling the vomit in his throat. the roaches are up on their hind legs. " . rising once for to your sore feet. trying to receive some broadcast from the blackness of space--a carnivorous choir singing songs of hunger. "It's a riddle. . Johnny unleashes a girlish sigh of exasperation." Your hand slides into your back pocket and pulls out Mr. man. shining unnaturally. It doesn't take your eyes very long to discover the source of the dissonant sound." he said. " he begins. I'm gonna be sick."Let's get moving again. Without any warning. "Wish them away!" He grabs your arms. "They look like wishing wells. but cooperates. you notice that the well on the right is filled nearly to the brim with shit. The stench of human feces hangs in the air like the cheap perfume of a used up whore. and their eyes are on you and Johnny." *** "What do you make of it?" asks Johnny. "when I saw you passed out in the hallway I thought I'd be bossing your scrawny ass around. All around you.

Wish in one hand (well). You're not fast enough. You can't help but feel intensely disgusted looking at him and the stains of bodily sewage that cover and cake the tattered clothes that cover his fat body. knocking both of you over. reeking waste spills out onto the scorched earth."Bullshit. but you're a lot faster. It just has to be. you son of a bitch!" He grabs for it. To top it all off. and the foul. who had only just sat up. shit in the other." says Johnny. You never even loosened your death grip on it. It is. It washes over the ash like a fecal glacier. "I wish for a handful of--No. however. It makes perfect contact. . Gimme that quarter! Give it to me. "Wish them away! Wish them away!" he demands. all sanity now gone from his eyes. replaced now with desperation and fear. and though there is no pain. He looks it too. but also rendering you ankle deep in human waste. you notice that he's pissed his pants. The roaches are so near now that if you are delayed another moment they will be upon you. Johnny. you rise you leg to the level of his chest and he slams into it with the force of a car. "What if you wish for a handful of shit?" That has to be the answer. you feel the world becoming hazy. finds himself in a literal shit storm. What was it that Johnny had said? What was it that he had said before he went nucking futs? He had asked you. I wish for a well full of shit!" Nothing happens. wait. "I feel revolting in every single way. Then something does. Thing come back into focus rather quickly though. You toss the quarter into the wishing well and shout. It is the most disgusting thing you have ever seen by an enormous margin. you push him to the ground and check your hand to make sure the quarter is still there. It has to be. You can barely hear him over the cries of the hungry roaches. Johnny gets up again. But not for long. which buys you a little bit of thinking time. DAY FIVE: THE TEMPLE It is early morning the next day before either of you speak one word to the other. Johnny lunges forward for another attack. sweeping away the roaches in its wake. The shitting well begins to overflow. It covers the back of his pants as well as his chubby hands. and sucking the breath from his lungs. and before he can throw another punch. and see which one fills up first. and the last few days of food spill out onto his shirt. which inch closer with every passing moment. and in rage. to avoid the fist coming towards your face. This is more that enough to kills his resistance to the vomit he had been fighting down.

"Do you really still place value on your life . "I don't think I'd care if I get there and it turned out to be nothing. while you kept your cool? Maybe everything that had happened had only really caught up to him at that moment and when it all hit he didn't know how to deal with it. I'd just lie down and die with a smile. a pleasant breed of bemusement in his voice. "We need to get moving. a glistening beacon of hope." ." you say with a smug grin on your face. We'll have to go through it. most are diagonal from the ground to a degree slight enough to allow passage beneath like the wretched canopies of some forbidden circus tent with a mad ringmaster. How could he have been so weak? He had dealt with Red Day better than you had. . "Don't even say the word shit around me. Certainly that was a reasonable explanation. ." says Johnny. "That's not fair. so why had the wells caused him to crumble. I was beginning to think you were full of shit about the whole thing. Noon comes and a light shimmers from the distance. you begin your trek through the black forest of death. The other trees have fallen to various extents." says Johnny. The few trees that still stand upright look like elongated tombstones. . but (but what?) ." "Do you know how much of a deathtrap that is." you tell him. "Oh my God." you say." he says.More revolting than his appearance is the mind that lurks behind his clever eyes--a mind that snapped when the pressure was on and almost cost both of your lives. Now let's go. but there really is something up here. your words sounding hollow in the cool breeze that swirls the ash around your shit-caked feet. waving his hand towards the burnt forest that lies before you. "It looks like we'll have to make a huge detour around all this. where every act is an unspeakable one. With that. or mine?" you ask. "There's no knowing you big this is. aspiring to scrape the bellies of clouds still tinted pink from Red Day." "It's completely fair. .

Dimly. you see him lying at the bottom. "stand up and give me your hand!" "I think my leg is broken. "Well so's my shoulder now. but it's fucked." you tell him." you say. But you no more than take another step before you hear a loud thump from behind you. I'm probably down to 210 now. asshole. "We're some sad motherfuckers. rising to your feet. He limps sadly along. aren't we?" he says with a half-mad chuckle." you say. Shit! I can't believe this. It's just my fucking luck. "It's not that deep. "What the fuck am I talking about? I'm fucked." He tried and fails twice. Well. The thought alone sends cold shivers throughout your body."It doesn't look far. "Could you at least help me out?" . I'd say we'll reach it by nightfall." Neither can you. a moment later." he answers. "What are you doing? What about my fucking leg?" "Walk it off. Shit. okay. "Are you okay?" "I'm fine." "Stand up! You don't have a choice!" you shout. and he reaches your arm and with a mighty effort that dislocates your shoulder." Johnny groans. "Is your leg broke?" you ask." you shout. but the third time is indeed a charm. Then. "SHIT!" you scream. which is damned good since I can't stand the though of being in this place at night. but complies. you pull him out. You lay side by side in the burnt forest. "Let's keep on moving then." he yells." "You're welcome. "That's what 220 pounds will do to you." "You run to the end of the pit and glance inside. "I don't think so. You twist around and see a huge hole on the ground next to where Johnny was standing. "Okay.

. I did too. and you really shouldn't take that for granted because I've held you together for this long. But sitting here bitching about it doesn't make anything better. didn't ya?" you ask. I can't do shit for you. you fat-ass. I wanna watch Star Trek! I wanna smoke a fucking joint naked in my room listening to Metallica and jerking off to internet porn. I don't owe you jack fucking shit. and you went fucking nuts on me when the pressure was on. I just want my old life back. so I think that--" "--That what? That I owe you? I've paid my debt to you and then some. ideally something involving horses with big floppy dicks and drunk fraternity sluts who think it's going to be a gateway to real acting jobs! I wanna . but I'm getting tired of it. yes. You don't owe me anything. his eyes have regained their composure. vomit and ash! My ass is majorly fucking chaffed from all this fucking walking and to top it all off I'm constipated! I haven't taken a shit in a week. I'm the one who helped your ass when you were just some fainted little bitch on a floor somewhere. You had spotted it a moment earlier and stopped dead in your tracks. so unless you can switch that fucked up leg over to your right side." "Let's go. Johnny begins to sob and chokes. in fact. piss. which I guess shouldn't be surprising because I haven't eaten anything but stale fucking sandwiches."You fucked up my left shoulder bad. we are some sad motherfuckers. You're all I have Johnny. You're right." *** "Jesus motherfucking Christ on a three dicked pony!" Johnny says when he sees it. "That's what was reflecting the sun light. . "I know." He opens his mouth again as if to say something nasty. Oh. "No." you say. and by the way." "Hey." . but then closes it again and looks at the ground for a moment." "Took it for granted. "I want to reach that crystal before nightfall. which are now growing mold and washed them down with little dainty sips of water! I think I'm losing my fucking mind! "I want a fucking hamburger with fries and a fucking Coke. it makes things a lot worse. When he looks back at you. Every moment of it. "That doesn't make any sense! Nothing makes any sense anymore! My leg is fucked up! I'm covered in shit. I'm all you have." you say. held by nothing at all. A huge crystal floating in the sky.

it's not important. more than anything." you say. wishing wells are Celtic. "Oh?" "It's a diamond. I think there is some sort of consciousness behind it all. there would have to be. Now is your chance to return. If this is going to involve shit and evil roaches again. "Yeah?" "Don't people wish on stars?" "Jesus. You can only stand there in weeping awe of its beautiful invocations of emotions deeper than you had ever felt before. ." *** You both gaze upon it breathlessly." "Twinkle. A diamond in the sky. but all this stuff is rather fairy-tale and folklorish. Love and hate. you can count me the fuck out. Twinkle Little Star' comes from. could you have conceived that something like this had been awaiting you. twinkle? Do you think? A little star?" "Well. It is the size of and shape of an arena. It is the most amazing thing that you have ever seen. You wish. I mean." you say. I have no idea where 'Twinkle. even if you had been afforded million years. Ebony spires tipped in fire protrude from four points." he says. strength and weakness. It fills you with joy and horror. but also the urge to slit your wrists and let death overcome you. "Wait a minute. that you could be a part of it." he says. You're right." "I guess so. above and between them hovers the sky-diamond. in some long forgotten lifetime. but you'd want no part of any sport that took place there. a will to survive at all costs. Let's get moving. I think. Perhaps you once were."It's not a crystal. "Well. as beautiful as heaven and as terrible as the voice of God. glowing (twinkling) in the flames. It's as black as hell. "Legion is Biblical. Never." he says.

So repulsively inviting. . Yes. The question is this: who or what is being worshipped and who or what is worshipping it? The wind whispers an answer. Too wrong. perhaps even more so than you. "and I think we can get there in 30 minutes or so if we hurry. So invitingly repulsive. this is a temple—a place of worship.” you say.” Is that the real reason? Of course not. More wrong than anything else even. but you cannot understand it.” Reluctantly.” you say. “I don’t see any sort of entrance. “I’m not sure we ought to go in anyway. . “It’s too late to turn back.” .” he says. . “This place is . *** Night falls and you arrive at your destination. “We won’t be able to see anything.” says Johnny. You can hear it breathing and feel its hideous life force speak horrors to the Love in your heart and preach gospels to the blackness in your soul. “Great. The air is sultry and beads of ash-black sweat roll into your eyes.” you say. “More than that.” Johnny says. .” you say. I can smell it in the air here." Johnny just nods vacantly. It’s wrong. and follows your lead. “We should search the perimeter. you admit to yourself that he’s right.” you say. You want to enter. “It’s too dark. “I’ve always wanted to spend a night between a dead forest and a giant black temple. You want to be part of this arena. This temple.” “We’ve come all this way."The sun is going down. “I guess we make camp here then. There’s not even much of a moon tonight to go by." you say. mesmerized by the great and terrible arena. Evil. The arena towers over you like monster would tower over a frightened child.” “ .

“Yeah. fills your eyes and fucks your soul. You’re paralyzed. You cannot move.” “It gives off that vibe. like the war cries of cockroaches. It says one word over and over again. in a heartbeat. Indecipherable? No. This is bad. Then. and the sickening light that engulfs everything shows no sign of fading away. There is nothing above or below or beyond. strengthening the malediction that has befallen you. Upon this realization. The chorus of indecipherable little voices chants away. but doesn’t really. You’ve got to move. you are not alone. It’s so wrong. You can hear voices speaking in unison from behind the wall of sickeningly white light—small voices. Their mantra is clear to you now: “The whore of Babylon spreads her legs and Kasaal the Chaotic lays her egg!” Behind this unified army of voices there speaks another single voice little more than a choked whisper.“Wait.” DAY SIX: THE HEART WHOSE WOES ARE LEGION Light. formless and void of God’s creation. It does not allow you visual conformation of . doesn’t it?” you ask. You feel as if you are floating. knowing full well that he did. “Yeah. The you just beneath your top layer tingles like a body part receiving blood after a few minutes of closed circulation numbness. I guess I did. though a decipherable word here and there leads you to believe that they are speaking in English. You are alone and everything that once was has come undone. unnatural and blurry. but pressed against a hard surface. Did you just call it a temple?” you ask. There is some other presence in this boundless emptiness and it is vast and utterly inhuman. Every effort to move any part of your body is completely futile. It’s wrong. a word not of any earthly language: TESTEOTEDRUM. a toe—something. the light evacuates from your vision and only darkness lay before you. You cannot understand what they are saying. A finger. It wakes you from your uneasy slumber.

walking towards the light. “What are you doing?” he asks. “Johnny. but spirals and floats like mist dancing with horrifying delicacy on the surface of murky swamp water. only looks down at his feet.” you answer. “We don’t have to go in there! We can turn around and go back!” “Go back to what?” you ask calmly. You jerk it away from him. but it makes itself known nonetheless by wrapping invisible tendrils of cosmic indifference around your every struggling limb. and nothing isn’t a real . “Wake up!” shouts Johnny. previewing you to a harsh coldness the likes of which no human being has ever suffered before. and the dreams from your mind and look upon the great dark temple to see that an entryway is revealing itself in these early hours of light—a wide door not there the night before slides open. “Not mine. “Something’s happening!” You groggily wipe the slumber from your eyes. “Don’t you get it? There’s no turning back now! This is it! Our one and only option! There is no alternative. grabbing your arm.itself. These are dreams that are not dreams. letting out a glacier of wild red light that does not conform to any one shape. He doesn’t answer. “Oh my God. Wake up. you know as well as I do that it’s this or nothing. “Damn it!” you say. urgently.” “There’s always an alternative!” he screams at you.” says Johnny. save a few unnamed and unnamable souls lost forever in lands where not even their greatest of Loves would dare set out in search of them. I’m sorry. It is a shade of red that you have seen before.

banging against the bars. we can go left. with surprising strength. “This is a shoddy monster mask over the face of a real monster. lit by torches burning bright with peculiar red flames that do not cast shadows or produce smoke. At that moment.” you say.” you say. “Fuck! I can’t fucking believe this!” “Calm down.” says Johnny. separating you and Johnny.” He looks up at you.” you say. Not for us.” “Well.” He takes it.” he says simply. “Shit!” he shouts.” you say. or we can go right. You are greeted by archaic stone hallways. as of large machines running relentlessly at some hidden depth. united by the bonds of a friendship borne of absolute necessity. There’s nothing we can do. a massive wall of prison bars crashes down from the ceiling. you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.option. sorrow beyond sorrow in his deep. dirty tears running down his ashy face. Together. You take his hand.” . you cross the glowing red threshold into the great black temple and the door rushes shut behind you. A faint rattling can be heard emanating from every crevasse between the large stones that comprise the ancient-looking wall. and he takes yours back. looking around with a mix of relief and disappointment. “Take my hand. I just want you to know. “It’s almost trite. A million or more curses hang like frozen ghosts in the air. “I should have figured as much. “I know. “If we don’t see each other again. blue eyes. “This isn’t how it really looks.

The resident roaches scuttle from your footfalls.) Then.” he says. you’re alone. . Not one of the skeletons appeared precisely human. Upon closer examination. On the back of one skull. I’m not dying down here. their world now. says some other part of you.” “I Love you too.” he says. His odds of survival are higher than yours. It is. . after all. Some are lit by torches.“You too. you think. . In fact. . *** The rumbling and rattling of unseen machines grows louder as you make your way through the labyrinth of hallways and tunnels. Fuck that. And just like that. A pathetic death for a pathetic person. “but I think we’ll see each other again. It’s just trying to fuck with us. You’ll probably die wandering these black corridors.” “I hope so. but Johnny has the backpack with all of the food in it. you can clearly make out the words: MADE IN TAIWAN. (You are legion. perhaps only out of habit. without notice. none of them looked real. you find that they are made of plaster or some similar substance. Hours pass. You’ll probably die here in this maze of cheesy horror movie special effects to the soundtrack of mechanical rumbling. man. and yield no discovery. You are hungry now. the tunnel you were crawling through yielded a cavernous chamber. I Love you. The conflicting voices that make up the illusion of a single entity that you identify as self . looking at you with intensity. filled with the bones of the dead. others are filled with the defiant breed of wild red light conforming to no law of physics.

“Who said that?” you demand.” says your survival instinct. “This internal monologue is brought to you by Pepsi.” you say. quoting Alice in Wonderland without realizing it. Revelation after revelation only breeds further inquiry and exasperation. Your heart thumps hard against your chest for a moment.” “Shut up! I don’t need your negative bullshit.” says your pessimism.” “No I’m not.“Curiouser and curiouser. but slows back to normal as you regain your composure and brush a hand through your greasy.” “Yes you are.” “Yes you are. “No I’m not. . tangled hair. causing you to jump and brace yourself for a moment.” “You’re both annoying. How much more of this could a frail human mind be expected to tolerate before slipping (blasting) into complete madness. Living this nightmare is like trying to force the pieces of a thousand vastly different puzzles to form a coherent picture. “Yes I am. from which there could be no recovery? Not much is your guess.” “I’m not negative. I’m just realistic. “I’m not dying down here.” booms a voice from all around you.” hisses the reptilian brain.

“Wait!” says the Tiki God.There is no answer. “Fuck you! I’m not fucking around anymore. It is coming from a small Tiki God statue near your feet with glowing red eyes. “Oh. the sand between your toes. “I’m in Santa Cruz. “Why don’t you stop beating around the fucking bush and get the fuck out here so I can knock your fucking teeth out!” The machines grow a little louder.” you said. I’m tired of this nonsense! If you think I’m going to sit on the beach and have a conversation with an action figure from hell. “COME ON YOU FUCKING MONKEY! GET THE FUCK OUT HERE AND LET ME RAPE YOU UP YOUR ALMIGHTY ASSHOLE!” The machines go dead.” “Yes.” “You would do well to listen to me. not more questions. and you didn’t expect one. “I need this shit like I need a third testicle. the warmth of sunlight. you’re sorely mistaken. Then. did my insolence offend you? I’m sorry. the call of seagulls hunting for fish or mates.” said the Tiki God.” “What form do you wish me to take?” asks the Tiki God. fuck you then.” you say. . I’ll let you suck turds out of my ass to make it up to you. you fucking pussy!” you scream. turning a walking away. boy. I want some answers. “Well. “I remember this beach. The light flees. The shaking stops. “Uh-huh. “Oh great. and the floor begins to shake beneath your feet. you fucking son of a bitch! What’s the matter? All that power but not enough balls to cut the shit and come play?” The machines grow a little louder. the scent and sound of salt water.” answers a raspy voice with a hollow quality.” you say. you are overcome by new sensations: the gentle whisper and caress of an ocean breeze.

“Well then hurry up and say it!” you reply. “The knowledge is inborn—a genetic memory that has been with the human species for millennia. “Don’t be a fucking smart ass. and I have not the answer to your question. You kick the Tiki God over and place your foot on top of him.” “Not until I have said what I must say.” you say.“I don’t care! That’s not the point! Why can’t I just see what the fuck you really are and why can’t you just tell me what the fuck is going on?” “I have no true form.” says the Tiki God. “Okay.” you say.” you tell him.” answers the Tiki God. thanks for the interlude.” he answers simply. You passed out just now in the temple of Vuru Raha and I am speaking to you now from the furthest outreaches of your subconscious mind. how can you know things that I don’t. you’ve been helpful to no end. Now fuck off. . “Okay. well.” “I can’t. “Why am I on the beach in Santa Cruz?” “Because.” “Vuru Raha?” “It is the name of the Goddess for whom this temple was built. because I am only a part of you.” he answers.” “Wait. apparently unperturbed by your attack. “If you’re just a part of me.

He does. was too important to hint at. however. Suits of armor. and I put them together. but are no longer in the room of false bones. There is nothing to do but walk forward.” you say. This. Why would he have done something like that?” “Power corrupts. You look up to see her floating down towards her seat of power. After hours upon hours of stumbling weakly through endless corridors and caverns of strange light and odd turns.” said a beautiful female voice from above. At the back and center of the great cavernous space there stood a high throne of black stone—the same stone that had made up the terrible monolith whereupon was written the word ‘LEGION’. “I just can’t believe it .” “I am sorry. . . you come upon a room of enormity whose towering walls were adorned with shredded satin curtains with golden spiraling flora embroidered masterfully on every square foot.” says the Tiki God. you have returned to the temple. . I had to bring you here. . to tell you this directly.” “I just can’t believe it. “I never expected you to make it this far. in red. I sense the patterns and communicate them to you through what you would call intuition. . “This changes everything. looking angelic and demonic and everything in between. I can’t believe it. And with that. they all come down to me. . reminiscent of talons. all this time . but back in the tunnels. She is clad.” “How do you know this?” “Things you see and hear but discard. of course. from the tips of which burned with great and terrible green fires. all of ancient derivation. From the top of this throne there grew many black spires. stood in guard of nothing in particular. “Oh my God.” you say. down to my level.

Her lips are red with blood rather than lipstick. . Then she tells you. forming a perfect circle and you hope to your feet in astonished disgust. We speak of man. “No. Her breasts are succulently-shaped.She lands upon the great black throne. A cockroach crawls out from her mouth and runs across her face towards an ear where it crawls back inside of her.” she says. but yellowish and diseased looking.” she says with a large smile. “We will take that. You shudder and begin to understand just who ‘we’—LEGION—is. She is beautiful and hideous. “For that we cannot take credit. and her roaches laugh with her in tiny. “as a compliment. “This world was unmade by they who made it to start with. composed than little more of saliva. but it is the brilliant green of raw sewage. Cued by your epiphany. crosses one leg over the other and adjusts her long blonde hair. .” “Why was the high school spared? It must have been deliberate! Why?” . She only laughs mockingly in response. She inspires lust and revulsion in equal measures to such a disorienting degree that you fall then onto your knees and spray the dirty floor with vomit. They all gather and around you. We are Legion. Her eyes are a brilliant green. “Yes. an army of roaches pours in from ever nook and cranny of the vast throne room. . . displaying perfectly white. It is by the hands of man that man has fallen. Vuru Raha?” “That is our name.” “God?” you ask. terrible voices.” says the beautiful and revolting creature. as if they are inflated by puss or tumors rather than mammary glands. did you do this to the planet?” you ask. but unnaturally pointed teeth. emptily.” “Y-You’re . they who really made this world.” she tells you. “Did you .

for you-know-who. Then.” she says. “Sadly. . everything floods away. the last of the old gods. “How could anyone be worse than the man who burned down the world?” “Alva has done what he has done to give your race a fresh start. I fear he will never find the opportunity to lead them to this arranged salvation. and now it is nearly mature.“Why?” she asks mockingly. Another is rising to power. are no longer green. smiles her terrible smile mere inches from your face. stormy gray.” “Alva. You saw it in its youth when it was but weeds. DAY SEVEN: THE FRIGHTENED GODDESS A fuzzy breed of consciousness comes back to you in sputtering spurts. The teeth which looked healthy when viewed from across the room now appeared to be translucent capsules of semen. but a deep. “Why. a rebirth—a new Eden. One with an even blacker soul than Alva’s. . Vuru Raha. did nothing to stop him. of course. And then. . growing every sort of fruit and vegetable you could desire. The one coming into power now cares only for power for powers sake. .” You vomit once more.” she said with a solemn smile. “I have grown him a garden to sustain his clan. you note. Her eyes. “We. .” you say.” “In return for his great and noble act. and the satisfaction of devilish whims.” “You look at her with disgust and anger. . The goddess. Human beings are a sad race of creatures indeed. in a rush of color and light. “Yes. We knew that We would inherit the earth. . a powerful sorcerer is he. . . .

she licks it from base to tip. faintly aware that your penis is erect and being stroked with relish.” intones the mighty voice of the vile Goddess. You could have killed him then where he stood had you known the truth. I can't honestly say that it kept me alive. ‘I’m in Heaven. only make a mental note of your disgust. Her tongue is rough like a feline’s. . “What--?” “Relax. but all along those eyes concealed something malicious.' I never did of course. Now though. You awaken groggily.” she tells you. . "because I see a lot of myself in your eyes. but like to believe that it helped. and because something tells me you'll need it. ‘I’m dead and I’ve gone to Heaven. ." And then he had plopped a coin down in your hand and told you. “isn’t as long as your friend’s. Just six days ago you were endeared to a sad kindness you had seen in his wise eyes. You nod off for what could have been anywhere from ten seconds to ten minutes and awaken to her naked body straddling you. Alva giving you the lucky quarter.A glimpse of pure white . You haven’t the energy to react overtly.” With that. but when Vietnam rolled around and I got drafted. but it’s a bit wider. . You let out a small groan of pleasure and horror and she smiles at you with her come-caps. ." he had said. I kept it with me the whole time. . "It's nothing special. really." Was that all just a bunch of bullshit? Alva had been the one responsible for Red Day all along.’ you think. but wetter. Vuru Raha. You dream of Mr. I ought to slap the piss out of him. . . “Yours. "just a plain old 1958 quarter. It was given to me by my father as he sent me off into the world. "I have something else I want to give you." he had said. you manage to lift your head long enough to glimpse her sallow hand firmly grasping your penis. 'This is your lucky quarter boy. . And then. You'd better turn it into a fortune. He told me. With massive effort. I’m going to meet God. You are disgusted and elated--and the conflict is intoxicating. I think you need luck more than I do.’ And then.

black and completely bare.” she tells you with a grin.” she says. a moment of triumph is turned. yeah. Your heart races. thrusting once more with swan-like grace. into a moment of horror. “We have showed him the pleasures that God has kept from him. who you recognize as Johnny. We will show you that there is no hope for you. That is simply one more tragedy of your little life.” she coldly informs you. “Boundless pleasure. She doesn’t seem to take notice. She places a powerful hand around your neck as a gentle reminder that you have no choice in the matter. by the third or fourth pelvic gyration. “We will take you to him. You can feel things (roaches) squirming inside her goddess-hood—little legs and antennae brushing against your inflamed member.She intends to fuck you. It drove him mad. He looks up . We will extinguish the burning of your insignificant soul. In fact. you have long forgotten your horror and allowing yourself to be utterly consumed by pleasure without bounds. You run to him. satisfied. but she has you pinned firmly to the altar of your desecration. hoping to enrage her once more. mustering as much nonchalance as possible. You come quickly in the electric pulsations of the most powerful orgasm ever before granted to a mortal being. Vuru Raha seems offended (and perhaps even a little scared) by the defiant power in your voice.” And with those words. “Your struggles are fruitless. “We have given it to you and you will never have it again. “Where’s Johnny?” you ask. once more.” “Yeah. The moment of penetration yields unforeseen horrors. You convulse in shock. We are in control. The pleasure is too great to remain disgusted. In a flash of red. you are in a brand new room. save for the cowering figure in the corner. Whatever.” you say. “No!” you manage to choke. just as we have shown you.

rising to your feet once more.” she says from behind you.” “I’m not losing my sanity.” you push.” “‘I’? What happened to ‘we’?” “We do not fear you either. “But you are your own entity. It is the sort of nod that says. causing Johnny to let out a little yelp. “Humans are such a foolish species. he’s losing it too .” you tell her.” she answers. yet you still demand to hear it yourself. “What truth?” you ask. recalling a conversation you had had with Johnny five or six days ago. I do not fear you. “Don’t be ridiculous. You get down on your knees beside him. if I choose. regaining her composure. closing the distance between the two of you.” you tell her. “What’s the matter? Why are you scared of me?” you ask. . You have seen what my wisdom has done to your companion.” “Well. y-you mortal fool.” you tell her matter-of-factly. “You really need to work on your poker face. She looks puzzled and afraid by these words. His eyes are puffy. Rage pumps through you then. Your smile seems to catch her off guard for a moment. but then she nods to herself. taking a few steps forward. “We told him the truth.to you and flinches. “Stay away!” she shrieks.” “We’re a race of crack addicts. . Johnny?” you ask in the calmest voice you can. as though he has been crying for hours and he looks to have aged ten years in some ways. spinning around to face her. “but I prefer to be Legion. “I can be. “What has she done to you. all is going according to plan.” you say with an evil smile of your own. . “I think it’s about time that all of you showed us a bit more hospitality. “Ahhhh .” she says.” . .

” you reply. We are obliged. that . He sent you here. The air has been knocked out of your lungs and it takes a moment to respond. But in the end. “That should teach you your place. DAY EIGHT: WELCOME BACK You wake up in the same tiny. .” “Why? What’s your gain?” “It is part of the deal between Alva and us. to essentially torture you to death. . bearing a cursed coin.” You do. “I’ll give you that. “Is . if not obligated. black room. have placed you upon the rack or whipped the flesh from your bones . You unwittingly gave us a quarter bearing a death hex—and a particularly nasty one at that. dreaming of something awful if the unmistakable tone of fear in his voice is any indication.” A streak of red light blasts into your mid-section. “We grow weary of you for today. . but you are fairly certain that he’s asleep. Johnny is curled in a corner muttering to himself. Sleep. it?” you ask. We could. .” she says with confidence. . Had you been familiar with the doctrines of the ancient prophets. you would have know that we could do you no harm unless you were to make us a magical offering. We would much rather destroy you from the inside out. “You are steadfast in your defiance. but that’s just not our style. .” “You still haven’t told me why you’re so scared of me. catapulting you across the room to near where Johnny sits.” she says through clenched teeth. I—we—will break you. perhaps. which you have already given to us. for fear that we would destroy you. What horrible truth could he possess? After all that you had seen and experienced together in relative sanity.“What? How dare you! The insolence!” “Shut up. what knowledge could have finally pushed him over the edge? Should such knowledge even be pursued? What do you have to lose but your mind? .

“Johnny! Hey.” “It’s only been a few days. One word. . I don’t know. Then. . do . In a flash of movement.” he says. loosening his grip with reluctance. not .” You shake him again. . . “Don’t I know you?” “Yes. . . Johnny?” you ask. You place a hand firmly on his shoulder and shake him gently. “Do . You don’t hear that too often. . over and over again: “Red. looking at him through teary eyes. I don’t think I have much of a mind left to lose.” you tell him. uncertainly. but this close up you can decipher his sleepy mumbling. . John! Are you awake.” he says. He is not at all roused. you?” says Johnny.” “After all these years. .” He laughs wildly at this proclamation--The sort of laugh that is so taxing on the lungs that it becomes nothing more than a tear-inducing spasmodic wheeze. . “such a long time. A minute is and hour and an hour is a month and a month is a split second and everything bleeds into everything else like a dick bleeds its diseased cum into the giant flaming cunt of darkness. he adds. You rise to your feet and stumble across the room. Carp! Yeah. man?” No reply. Have you ever met a guy named Carp? I think not!” . “Yes. Carp is a cool fucking name. . “What have they done to you. realizing for the first time since seeing Vuru Raha just how desperately famished you are. more firmly. I have no sense of time anymore. It’s been such a long time. “Has it? I suppose you’re right. that. his hand has seized your throat and is gripping tightly like a python coiled around its prey. It’s me. . Johnny.’ you think.‘I’m seeing Tiki Gods that claim to be my subconscious. “Don’t call me Johnny! I hate that name! Call me . Freud would take one look at me and burst into flames.” “It’s . um . as if he distrusts his own thoughts and memories. . . I never expected to see you again. producing yet another zombie spawn to sing country music to a coalition of gay and lesbian midgets. .

regaining your composure.” “Whose?” you ask. hey. “But I will tell you this much. let’s call her V-ro. Well. I tried to resist her. but I wanted to go back . There is a new guy in charge. I won’t get into that .You begin to weep at this. but Alva was the only one among them that knew of its existence and he’s dead now. but I forgot it. .” says Johnny. my boy. I wound up in her little throne room thingy-type-place and she smiled and laughed and made me . I don’t know if I really believed you would. maybe I wanted to go back to try and find another way out. no. but she made me do some real nasty shit that I’ll never get out of my head no matter how hard I try. right? I was walking down the long and winding caverns and halls and all that shit singing Beatles songs and I realized that I had taken the food and that you might need some. I guess not. It was too big and a lot of it was so goddamn awful that I don’t want to try to remember it. so I wound up in Vuru . I knew all about God and the creation and the history of earth and Heaven and Hell. “he had help. . like J-lo? . well. . that is. I have some questions. You have to go back to the school. . Johnny. but giggle in spite of yourself. now.” you say. hoping you would have realized it too and turned back. . “Joh—er—Carp. but that only pissed her off and she showed me her brain. you need to go to them and lead them to salvation. So. but I was as lost as a nigger in a library. even though I know that’s what you want from me. we got split up a long. But. I turned around. “Damn it! Don’t do this! Don’t get all cryptic on me. Anyway. or you wouldn’t care about any of this nonsense. you have to get out of here. .” he . Do you? I guess you do. capable of sustaining each and every one of them. . . How could Alva have done all this and how could someone overthrow a man with that sort of power?” “Alva didn’t do it by himself.” says Johnny with a little laugh. “You ain’t ready for that yet. She made me a part of Legion for a little while and I knew everything. “Did that nigger joke offend you?” “Um. At any rate. You set out here to find the truth. . long time ago. It’s just too big for you. if you even give a shit. but I’ll tell you now man that the truth is more than you would ever want to know. The weed garden has grown into a new Eden. what’s been done to you?” “Well. you know. I buried it. A soul filled to the brim with a blackness and hatred that you’d not fucking believe. you fucker!” “There is a good reason why those who possess knowledge are reluctant to share it. . You have to lead humanity to salvation. “Okay.

There’s a good reason why we don’t explain to them about the water-cycle and density and all that boring shit. because they wouldn’t understand it. The hallways are abandoned. because we get a kick out of watching them go on believing a bunch of completely implausible horseshit. life’s a bitch. We gladly go out into the rain. . The door opens and you step out into the light. this time with more success. You take a few deep breathes and stand up again. You spot a broken window. protractors and even a few cigarette butts. “There’s not even a door out of here!” “Oh no?” asks Johnny. The room that you’re in is not the one you were in a moment earlier. rulers.” you say. pencils. Firstly. These streaks continue along the tile floor. There. You take three unsteady steps towards the door with chipped white paint. “Yeah. coated in a thick layer of white paint. “Welcome back to Myre High. You’re in a hallway of bricks. finding papers carelessly strewn about. it’s time to go. At any rate. or his tears. You grab the knob and turn it. blood splatters and streaks painting the tacky Champaign walls. concluding at the backdoor of the office. Where once he was crouched there is now a dustpan. all smoked to their filters. then you get reincarnated. You turn your head and spot a plain-looking wooden door. This room looks like a supply closet. You rise to your feet once more. *** It doesn’t take long to jog to the main office. delighted that God cares about us enough to douse us with his piss. and secondly. “Where did that--?” you start. through which you espy no less than an anchor of dead grass. gesturing behind you. The tacky. “As children we are told the rain is God’s urine.” “Go where?” you ask. falling back down immediately. nearly passing out. You open the door to the office. but Johnny is gone. they continue towards some ghastly destination. pens. you can be sure.” you say to yourself. save for a few overturned desks and various school-going paraphernalia: text books.” “It seems like every moment of my life for the past week has been completely implausible bullshit. multi-colored glue-down carpeting is covered with dark-red streaks that could only be blood stains.says to you simply.

the day after Red Day. we . She turns around when she hears the door shut behind you. You recognize her as Lisa Martin. but instead you find Mr.” Done taking in the rearranged features of Alva’s face.” she says. The same dull fucks who rode your bus and intently discussed Stacey and Dave’s breakup could no be intently munching on Dave and Stacey’s liver or getting munched on themselves. It’s not a question. Startled.“Why return there to chaos and cannibalism when we could stay here?” Johnny had said what seems like years ago. Alva’s office expecting to find it empty and ransacked like the main office. What remains of the school’s once blazing green lawn is now the light brown of heavily-creamed coffee with streaks of rust-colored blood leading to a knoll of corpses. . A little shiver runs down your spine. You walk into Mr.” you say. . “What do you mean? Where have you been?” “About a week ago. you let out a small gasp. well. There is a young girl standing in front of the corpse pile with her hands in the butt pockets of her dirty low-rider jeans. “I know that it’s forbidden to say so.” she tells you. a girl that you had a major crush on a million years ago before the world vomited itself to death. Her eyes don’t sparkle anymore either—they are the eyes of someone who has seen so much horror that they have simply burned out. his head bashed into ground beef. even if it means I’ll be joining you someday.” you say to him. You imagine that your eyes must look similar as she looks you over and then looks back at the mound of bodies. She’s wearing a pink T-shirt with the word ‘LOVE’ written in sparkles that don’t sparkle anymore. you cautiously stride out of his office and follow the blood streaks out the backdoor to the outdoors. “I hope you’re burning in hell right now. “You no good fucking son of a bitch.” “I do too. “but I hate this. curiosity now lighting her half-dead eyes. “Whose in charge here now?” you ask her. Alva sent me and a guy named Johnny Yarrows on a secret mission of sorts to investigate a glimmer of light to the East. but recover quickly and move in for a closer examination. She turns to you again. Alva’s body lying out on his desk. We . rotting and baking in the heat of the sun. “What can we do.

I seen it.” he says. “He talkin to uh.” says Adric.found the source. punching the giant right in his nose.” A rough voice from your distant right screams.” she tells you. even though there is no one around. well. it becomes evident that you have won the fight. He said that he was going to lead everyone to the new Eden and now we’re not allowed to discuss it at all. .” you tell him. “You see that pile over there. “You gonna answer me. now I guess I’ve come back. . Alva mentioned it before they . . I have to lead people to it. faggot?” “I didn’t know she belonged to you. “Mr.” You turn to see about twenty people walking intently in your direction. In an onslaught of kicks to his face. boy. a foot wider and a foot taller than you. Not really. Just long enough for you to kick him in the kneecap as hard as you can. His angular face is so full of crimson loathing that you imagine that you could cook ground beef on his massive forehead if you wanted a burger. man.” you say.” “Just what I need. And in a matter of seconds he is standing inches from you. . “You talking to my girl. pointing to the body knoll. “that’s a pile of smart asses. a gargantuan ape with scruffy black hair and I’ll-kill-you eyes whom you recognize as Adric Motka. I think you can guess what’d happen to them. Adric’s entourage does . I know where there is a garden that can sustain us. probably more to inform Adric than for anything else. “Well she does. alright. causing his eyes to tear up and his body to freeze in surprise. He falls to the ground and he falls hard.” you say. “another fucking obstacle. The voice quite obviously came from the boy leading the pack. but it didn’t help anything.” offered a small black guy with huge eyes. getting up close to you so that she can speak to you in a whisper. “Lisa! Who the fuck are you talking to.” “You can’t!” she says. oblivious to the sarcasm in your voice. . . And now . “Don’t try to fight him. little boy?” he asks you through a smile of gritted teeth.” “I don’t have time for this. “I think he’s being a smart ass!” says a semi-fat hid with a red hat. killed him. and anyone spotted headed East .

is blathering on about something uninteresting. “Great. “Yeah. He knows how to get lots of canned shit and we don’t ask him how. The girls of the group include Shelly. man?” asks a sharp-looking skinny guy with peroxide bleached hair. “We’ve got Ravioli. Lisa Martin is. “Daaaaaaamn. “Aaron knows where to get it. .” “Where did you get Ravioli?” you ask.” They begin to chant your name. Sherry and Ariel.” *** You’re sitting in the classroom that once belonged to Mrs. “Adam Black. “E fuckin saved ah asses!” adds Cory cheerfully. Correction. She then turns to you with an expression of wonder and gratitude. you are reluctant to say yes.” “I’m Adam. mourning his lowered position in the pecking order. Adric is in the corner.nothing at all to help him. whose fate you don’t bother to inquire about.” Rick answers. Other than those two there are Sam. the small black kid with the huge eyes. where your posse hangs out. “They’ll follow you now. Fearing that you might be asked to eat someone. “My name?” you ask. asserting association with you. Kyle. This is apparently where Adric’s posse hangs out.” says the black kid. The clever-looking boy with the bleached hair has introduced himself as Jake Carter.” Lisa whispers in your ear. “What’s your name. of course. “Are you hungry?” asks Rick. “You whooped A’s ass!” Lisa is staring down at the folded up body of the boy who had apparently owned her with utter contempt. Rick and Pete who are notable only by their lack of notable qualities. Cory White.” you tell them. staying close by your side.

“I don’t know if you’ve looked around. You give him a nod back that says thanks.” “Well she ain’t yours. Your subordinates cheer as their former leader is blasted bloody by a barrage of punches that look a hell of a lot harder than the ones you barraged him with only about an hour earlier. bitch!” “I know. man?” asks Jake. pointing at Jake.” says Adric suddenly. I’m tougher than you are Adric. “But Lisa isn’t your property.” “You wanna rematch. Darwin isn’t on your side. “It’s the same world it always was with the same rules. boy? You caught me off guard last time. but this ain’t the same world it used to be and it don’t got the same rules. “And I don’t like you hanging around in here like you own the fucking place. With disorienting speed. Lisa taps your shoulder gently to warn you not to tell the truth.” Jake weighs this order for a moment—you can see him deliberating as to whether or not he should recognize your authority—and makes a the decision to act on it. No one moves. please?” you ask. “I’m still in charge here. boy. Jake tackles Adric to the ground and pummels him with fists. “Take him.” you tell him. but this time I ain’t fucking around. “So where have you been all this time.” “You’re wrong. you know.” you say. He gives you a nod that lets you know that he knows what you’re telling him is a lie but he’ll keep his mouth shut about it. and I’m sure as hell smarter than you.” you say.“I see.” you say.” “I’m not here to take away your pathetic little lot of power. “You.” you tell him. “I’ve just been keeping a low profile. The exchange goes completely unnoticed by the rest of the room. .” you tell him. I’ll kick your ass right here and right fucking now.” “Would someone shut him up. She belongs to herself.

“but I think it’d be best if you came out and said it.” he says. You nod your approval. The classroom contains a picnic table with a few chairs around it. so.’ you think. be equally adverse to my overthrowing him. “You know why we’re here?” you ask. though it’s against Aaron’s Law to say so. motioning to him with your hands and heading towards the door.” he says. our friend Adric among them. He follows you out into the hall where you ask him. Aaron would probably kill me.” you tell him afterwards. “I’ve got a good idea.‘He’s tougher than me and I can see in his eyes that he’s as smart as I am. seeing that Adric’s face is basically a swollen tangle of bloody mush.” he says simply.” he says. therefore.” he tells you. right?” “Probably. “That’s enough. I guess my question is. but I guess it’s only been a little over a week. .” you say. I wouldn’t know. what you did to Adric was impressive as hell. Jake. I’m fucked. why aren’t you leading them?” “Aaron. Kyle’s. “Aaron used this room as his base of operations when the war was on.” You consider this for a great long while. pointing to the class across the hall from Mrs. he must. hence. “that all of this transpired rather quickly?” “It doesn’t really seem like it happened quickly. I’ve never seen someone move that fast or punch that hard. Well.” you ask.” “Does it occur to you. “but if you are so am I.” “Okay. “Come with me.” “By extrapolation. “Is there somewhere to go where we can sit and talk for a moment?” “That class is abandoned. I’m assuming he discussed strategy here with his generals. “If I tried to overthrow Adric. so we need to band together on this one. looking at the desk as he looks to you for a verdict. pulling out a chair and sitting in it. He unleashes one final punch for good measure before obeying instructions and rising to his feet. I was fighting for Alva. and you’re obviously smart enough to know that you could lead these idiots if you really wanted to.

but you doubt that anything escapes his dark blue eyes. you turn around and charge your enemy. The door swings open and out saunters a tall. perhaps chosen because of its location at the very heart of the building. Not disappointing you. Right. but you’re probably right. He seems barely fazed by your right hook.” replies Mr. Left. but closes it soon after.“Our best chance. former quarterback of the Myre High Rebels. “You know. “I hate to admit it.” Without a moment’s hesitation to make sure he heard you and understands. He looks at you as if your presence is utterly inconsequential. Right doesn’t go down quite as easily as Adric. “I guarantee you that he’ll want to see me tomorrow when certain facts come to light.” adds Mr. Left. You turn around. You look over to Jake and see that he has made short work of Mr. he does the same. I’ll take Mr. Mr.” *** The computer lab. you see it coming and pull your face far enough to back that his punch only clips your chin. Right. Luckily. He attaches himself to your side and you whisper. Right. serves as Aaron’s base of operations.” you say. “Look. You don’t know their names so in your mind you assign them the monikers ‘Mr. “Don’t nobody see Aaron less Aaron wants them to be seen. Outside of the door stand two large sentries. and now. and I’m just here to save him some time and make sure that that light is my light. bitch. the king Myre High. you suppose. seemingly failing to take notice of his fallen guards.” you tell them. “You take Mr. You recognize him as Aaron Bittor.’ “We want to see Aaron. almost as if to tell you ‘this is how it’s done’. “Or we’ll kick your ass. fair-haired boy with eyes that could stare down a Siberian tiger and muscles that could tear one apart. and offers you one of your own. now devoid of anything even resembling a computer.” answers Mr. The force of his own punch causes him to lose his balance and a cleverly placed jab to the back of his head brings him to the ground where he is vulnerable to an onslaught of facial kicks and stomps. Right. Left. obviously former football players.” you say. signaling Jake to your side.” “Get lost. biting his lower lip. “is to go to him before word gets to him from some other source.” Fear fills Jake’s eyes and he opens his mouth to protest.” he says. Left’ and ‘Mr. .

and ultimately. . Gathering yourself together you say. in a surreal instant. Lisa Martin lies to your right.” Then. pointing to the computer lab. likely still awake. “We came to see you about something.” DAY NINE: THE PISSFOAM OF MEMORIES and THE BASTARD MASTER PLAN The early hours of morning—you haven’t slept or come close to a state even vaguely resembling sleep. I’m loyal to you. Jake lies to your left. my forgiveness. I’ve come to tell you this because you’ll obviously hear it anyway. Her expression is difficult to read in the dark. Jake looks over to you and says.” proclaims Aaron. definitely still awake and making little attempt to conceal it. “What I have to say to you shouldn’t take to long anyhow. correct?” “Yes. “Then you have my approval and you have my forgiveness. “You’re Adam Black. you add. Then he turns to Jake with apparent distaste and adds.“What’s the meaning of this?” he asks. “I want you to know that after what I’ve seen here tonight. “I beat the piss out of Adric Motka and I’ve assumed leadership over his followers.” you tell him. “Can we talk about this inside . outwardly unconcerned. he is gone in a twirl and the door slams shut behind him.” “Alright then. ?” you ask.” “Essentially.” you say. “Come alone. Am I correct?” “Yes. We have a lot of very important things to discuss. trying to sound frank. “No.” “That much is obvious. Then.” you tell him. Canned ravioli is revolting in your belly while disconcerting thoughts are bubbling in your brain. .” he says. Come here tomorrow at half past noon. staring at you with enlarged pupils. you have come here to seek my approval in this course of action. .

blue hole right through your head. Not quite. Jake is to his feet before you can even acknowledge what is occurring. . You could feel her eyes burning a bright. “The fuck he isn’t!” shouts the shadow puppet now identified as Devin. “Come with us!” “He’s not going anywhere. “Which one of you faggots is Adam Black?” “I am. but most don’t look very willing to fight for you—“or we can come back in about five minutes with thirty instead of three . and for that you are thankful. ‘So I’m alone in the waking world.” you answer. “Aaron--?” says one of the shadow puppets. No one fucks with us.” “I don’t think Aaron would like that. Her curious gaze was becoming a terrible burden. become deeper and louder. “No one in particular. “I talked to him earlier.” says Jake. The door blasts open and in charge three silhouetted figures. “I’m supposed to have a meeting with him tomorrow at twelve-thirty. . it appears she has fallen asleep. we fuck them right back. A few minutes later. “What are you talking about?” he asks. and if we do that.’ you think. “He’s gonna pay for what he did to Adric.“Who are you?” she whispers. “Adam Black!” screams the smallest of the figures.”—everyone in the room is standing now. And when someone does. Devin. He can come with us now.” .” you say. you’re all fucked. You get the feeling that Jake has also finally succumb to Morpheus’s song. like a good little cunt. Devin hushes him scornfully.” you answer.” you say. His breathing has changed.

” Bitterly. No one else wanted me because I had fought for Alva. After a few moments of deliberation. To which Jake replies with a wellplaced foot to the face. “Shut up!” shout Rick. “Now they’ll listen.Devin and his left and right nut don’t seem to know what to make of this. “We just told him what happened.” They do as you bid. They talk amongst themselves for a moment in hushed and harsh tones. because Adric wanted someone good in battle and I fit the bill. but if you’re as full of shit as I think you are. “but if it came to defending you. they are gone. They also wound up with me. “What’d ya say to um?” asks Pete.” he says. “We’ve had enough of your shit. “Get out. Devin says. “Yeah. so he wound up with all the few spineless bitchboys that survived the war and they wound up with three of the ugliest girls in the school. casting his tormented and tormenting eyes in your direction as he closes the door behind him with a pitiful attempt at a slam. I swear to piss that I’ll beat you to death with your own legs. “Did you really meet with Aaron?” croaks Lisa. seeming like girls for the first time since your arrival. they’d watch you get beat down before even considering lifting a finger. “You shut up. Adric was such an uninspiring leader that almost no one wanted to follow him. that’s what Jake and I were up to earlier. This lends you a bit of comfort and more than a little strength.” And with that. This is the third time today your gotten your ass kicked and if me or Adam have to kick it again. the defeated beast rises to his unsteady feet and drags himself from your presence.” Jake mumbles in your ear.” says Cory. Devin stomps his foot and whisper-yells an obscenity. “I’m going to check up on your little claim. if you get me meaning. “It’s the first sound of happiness I’ve heard in a long time. it’s going to stay kicked forever. “And he didn’t fucking kill you on the spot?” snarls Adric. Pete and Sam in unison.” . The girls in the room cheer.” you say.” “Ho-lee shit.” you answer. man.

’ you think to yourself before finally descending into dreamland. You feel as though maybe everything would improve if you could just become so tangles up in her existence—and she in yours. .” “What are you guys talking about?” asks Lisa. y’know. truly weary and ready to phase the world out for a short while. *** Consciousness strikes like a hammer. as if you were his equal. the strength and will and character to keep your head when Johnny was losing his. Something about her movements as she nods and slowly sits down on the floor makes you want to hold her. black temple of Vuru Raha. whose back is turned to you. As you lay there. . comes to an abrupt end and you . the intestinal fortitude to not only enter the great.” He nods. who could probably melt you with his gaze. You lie back down then. Lust is a half-truth. but to tell her off. Such illusions have plagued you since your discovery of the orgasm. nailing all saviors to their respective crosses. ‘I’m such a fucking coward. “About half the students and all the teachers and all but one of the parents that was dropping off their kids when .“How much of the school died in the war?” you ask him. just before the bloody death of all naivety and optimism that danced hand in hand with the sour advent of puberty. Jake does the same and everyone else follows suit. Your troubled sleep. and the sheer fucking balls to speak to Aaron. frightened—completely terrified—of scooting in close to her and wrapping your arm around her. You had the courage to venture of into a world reduced to little more then an ashen graveyard. despite all of this. really. “Nothing important. Love is a lie. Yet. “Red day.” “Red day. Her every curve appears crafted by the hand of an artisan God with a perfect eye for detail.” you tell her. you look at Lisa. racked with nightmares that have lost form. one who must have spent eons on her ass alone. you find yourself looking at the back of this Lovely creature.

’ ‘Change how?’ .’ ‘We fucked. ‘Shhhh. meaning you couldn’t have slept for more than three hours. no need to speak aloud. We’re inside your primitive brain. don’t you?’ says a voice from inside your head.’ instructs Vuru Raha. Your offspring. ‘Yes. taking an inventory of the room. “My seedling?” you gasp. Your child. more than vital to the continued existence of your race in its current incarnation. “Who said that?” you demand. boy. in fact.’ ‘Present incarnation?’ ‘Aaron intends to change humankind. The light pouring in from the windows is faint. Everyone is accounted for. however. Our presence is.’ ‘Humor me. We can hear your every nasty little thought. you’re a part of us and we’re a part of you. Whether you like it or not. .find yourself wide-awake with no apparent precursor.’ she says. ‘How are you--?’ ‘—What does it matter? You humans have an insipid penchant for utterly inconsequential inquiries. ‘We are not much fonder of the idea than you are. Hush now.’ ‘Vuru?’ ‘In the flesh. You use your every muscle to choke back the locomotive of vomit that is trying to exit your body via oral defecation. ‘Don’t be so melodramatic. Your flesh. Everyone is asleep. . ‘You do work fast. suggesting that it’s still quite early. ‘Not aloud!’ she chides. We bare your seedling.’ You feel your insides eating away at themselves and you feel as though your belly is going to explode. It was my means of connecting with you. You rise quietly to your feet.’ she says with a small giggle. .

. Your father comes through the front door. his face a deep purple and his eyes as tiny as . moth and ears are all sewn shut with thick black wire.’ You are overcome once more by blinding light and then. . He extends a hand towards the living room television set. and when he sits down and begins counting his money. and silver spoon for a tongue. yet you recognize this very scene for only a few weeks ago. but the you then looks nothing like the you now. seemingly delighted with everything around him. The you then looks so untroubled and young. “Oh?” he says. You are sitting next to her. your father comes stumbling our from the hall. . His mouth is ridiculously large for his face. And you know what happens next. . little monkey?’ ‘I really want to know. You scream and bolt away from here as quickly as you can. You mom is folding towels. “What the hell is this?” you shout. but the face of a tired woman with sullen eyes. you can see that it’s filled with shiny metal hooks instead of teeth. Her eyes. or are you just shitting in your hand again. This is how you remember your dearly departed parents is it not?” “No! No! Of course not!” you exclaim. A flaming halo floats seamlessly above his fat face. my dear friend. . too small to serve as anything but decoration. His eyes are now as black as tar and framed with red. only much cleaner that it is now. You see your living room. “‘What the hell is this?’ you ask? Well. smiles a terrible. She stops folding the towels for one strange moment. turns her head towards you for a moment. which flickers immediately to life. clutching huge wads of red money in his rotting hands. Her visage isn’t a sinister mess of stitches. it’s only your brain. Your mom is sitting beside you folding towels.‘Do you really want to know .’ ‘We were hoping that would be your answer. A moment later. vaginal eyelids. bloody-mouthed smile and then returns to her towels. nostrils. From his shoulder blades protrude two tiny gray wings. *** You are sitting in the living room of your house. The front door opens and in saunters Johnny. He smiles at you sardonically and says.

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up! I don’t need you rubbing it in.insect-angler halos. Godwin Black had the fucking AW-FUCKINGDACITY to ask for a fucking promotion after just eight goddamn miserable back-breaking years of working for his sorry ass to feed a family that doesn’t give a half-pint of rat piss whether I live or die!” By this time. He doesn’t waste a single second. Adam. but that’s a bunch of fucking horseshit. The scene ends and the TV fills up with static. indigo and motherfucking violet—and there’s more! There are literally fucking hundreds of thousands of different colors. They say they’re firing me for finding pornographic pages in my history. blue.” You mom says nothing. She continues to fold towels. orange. yellow. his face is so flushed that what little is left of his hair looks as though it might soon catch fire. pointing his finger squarely at you. That’s the only color possible! You look like your going to a fucking funeral every goddamn day! What the fuck are you mourning you whiney little pissant? ‘Boo hoo! Dad won’t let me join the Church of Satan! Woe is me! It’s not Fair!’ and all that crap. “Don’t you fucking raise your voice to me woman! Use your fucking head! They can fire me for whatever they like. “A foul-tempered father who didn’t understand you and a mom too passive to defend you? Did you really mourn them?” . they just have to find some cover reason to do it. “You did? You are?” poses Johnny. “I did! I am!” you sob. Before anyone can even inhale a breath deep enough to ask him what’s wrong he screams. you’d think black was it. green.” says Johnny. “Hey. “I got fucking fired today. guess what? There’s a whole fucking rainbow of colors: red. you fucking smart-ass-know-it-all bitch! I told you this would happen! I fucking told you that it would piss Henderson off if I asked for that promotion and he waited till today to stick it to me! The fuckers!” “They can’t fire you for asking for a promotion!” says your mom. “Look at our son!” he screams. But looking at you. Why can’t you go out and do the shit teenage boys are supposed to do? Party! Get wasted! Fuck girls that are too stupid to understand the decisions they’re making! Join the football team! The Basketball team! Even DRAMA for fucksake! Just quit moping around the fucking house like you’re pissed off at a world that hasn’t even begun to fuck you over yet. “I think I see why you never really mourned their deaths. They’re firing me because that bastard Henderson has a goddamn fucking hair up his pussy because little-bitty nobody. Tabby!” “Oh my God! What happened?” she says.

face now free of stitches. You see yourself crouched over your homework desk. Then. Alva you knew. Johnny looks at you with raised eyebrows. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t Love my parents. but—terrifyingly—not .” “We Love you too. “Touching. he just didn’t like the path I was on and wanted me to be happy. wielding a large bloody knife. The static overtakes the picture once more. sweety. Alva. Then. It depicts your mother and father on the couch with both of their throats slit. but by no means a young man. and another before actually turning it. still sitting on the couch. calming yourself. It only came out like that on that day because he was angry! And I can’t blame my mom for not fighting my battles for me!” “But you didn’t think so then. even those fade away and you and Johnny are alone inside your house.” says Johnny.” you tell him calmly. for a moment. takes a deep breath before grabbing the handle. shadowy afterimages. Out of the Car steps Mr. “Very much. Beside them is a depiction of yourself. The static fades away into a new scene. This one is unfamiliar. they both dissipate into thin air. In some ways. kicking up dust under its spinning wheels. He slowly makes his way towards the factory’s entrance. leaving behind. you know it’s not your house and that the creature with the strange eyes and the tiny wings isn’t Johnny.” says your mom. . not really wanting to go inside. moving along. a solid decade younger than the Mr. doodling in your sketchbook. It is later that same night. “My father wasn’t a bad guy. Only.” says Johnny. . The location seems to be an abandoned factory—a steel mill perhaps?—a mint-blue Chrysler pulls into the dirt lot.“Yes! I did!” you shriek. “well. as if he bears some awful burden. you add. . you now also looks like his normal self. The factory looks the same inside as out: rusted and abandoned.” adds your father. he actually looks older. “I was mad. trying to conceal irritation.” A new scene begins to unfold on the television screen. This is likely true. With that. The camera pans over your should to focu in on your drawing. He stops before the door.

rattling the few dirty old widows left unbroken.” Static.” “Ah. This place was ripe with an unholy breed of life. .” says Johnny with a small smile. “YOU ARE LATE.” “I will give it to you.dead. “GIVE IT TO ME.” “No. . Of its source. from his jacket pocket and holding it out to the unseen source of the voice.” “GIVE IT TO ME. but perhaps this will. but it can.” . WHAT DO YOU WANT IN RETURN?” “You have seen the state of the once proud human race. you cannot be certain. “I apologize most humbly. I have a plan.” booms a thunderous voice. “You’re on a need to know basis. but there is something that I want in return.” “GIVE IT TO ME OR I WILL TAKE IT. “Sorry. No.” “SPEAK. producing a small box.” responds Alva. “YOUR APOLOGIES HOLD NO VALUE.” “Not just yet.” “ .” answers Alva. have you not? What could a guardian such as myself long for if not humankind’s return to a state of grace and purity?” “IT CANNOT BE DONE.” “No. the sort of life that children feel emanating from closets and under beds as they shiver off the remnants of ghastly nightmares. “Hey!” you exasperate. my lord. no bigger than a pack of cigarettes.

” “Just one more thing. *** “Are you okay?” asks Jake. right?” you say. A computer sits on and otherwise immaculate desk. white bedroom.“And I don’t need to know what happens next. Another flash of light.” you say. crouched over your aching body. He stops at a page towards the end of the volume and you can see that he is looking at an illustration of you. “Are you sure?” asks Lisa. You stand up. “anything else I need to know.” The static fades away once more and you’re in a tidy. The door to the tidy little bedroom swings gently open and in steps Aaron Bittor. . He closes and locks the door behind him.” “Thanks. looking at the screen. zip drive. Your eyes unblur and you can plainly see that everyone is crouched or standing over you. watching you with varying degrees of concern. The CPU. sitting up. The pages are made of a thin cloth rather than paper.” says Johnny with his trademark shit-eating grin. He opens it. kneels down beside it. Posters of sports stars adorn the walls.” “You were stumbling around the room.” she says. “Right! You’re not as utterly idiotic as you first appear.” you say. The bed looks like it was made by a cleaning lady employed by some ritzy four-star hotel. Not a single trace of English can be found on any of the pages you chance to glimpse. clutching your hands to your head. “No! You have to show me more! Surely I need to know more than THAT!” “Not just yet. only now his teeth are nothing if not hardened insect exoskeletons protruding from gums do diseased that they appear to be composed entirely of clotted blood. “I’m fine. Static. mouse and keyboard are tucked into their compartments with inhuman neatness. reaches an arm under it and pulls out a thick book that appears to be bound in leather. yelling. steps over to his bed. “Yes.

Now.” you say. But that’s not logical at all. up is still up.” Jake says. It’s as simple as that. . having one very long and very bad dream. is it? No.” No one moves until Jake says. from the looks of the light outside. Okay. I need to be left alone. “You heard him! Everyone out!” Everyone leaves. real logic. sorcerers still roam the earth casting spells. It’s a brave new world. which is coming up in a little over six hours. boredom was an emotion you longed to feel again. so a few things are different.” adds Corey. The most logical explanation your mind can concoct is that you’re still asleep in your bed. . they’re back. Crowley and his curious little grimoire. Throw away the Ayn Rand idea of reality and say hello to Mr. “Shit!” you say. I need to psychologically prepare myself for every possible outcome. and algebra was the most boring thing in school.” “Cloud cover? I haven’t seen a cloud since Red Day!” “Well. . Kyle used to teach algebra to uninterested adolescents who thought school was the most boring thing on earth. the basic precepts of existence remain basically in tact—causes still bring about effects. ravioli still manifests itself out of nowhere. “Noon’s probably no more than two or three hours away. whether it makes sense or not. bound in sun dried roach wings and written in cum. trying to make sense of it.” he says. well. “But how I am and how I feel isn’t important right now. It can still be applied to the dilemma’s of this new world. Reality is based on rules. What is important is my meeting with Aaron. not really believing yourself. trying to apply logic or reason to it.“Trippin. You go over events in your head. I’m fine now. cockroaches still think with a hive consciousness. No biggie. Someone just changed the rules. Rationality is not worthless. the sort of reasoning that concerns reality as it can be perceived would lead you to conclude that whatever is happening is really happening. down is still down. You’d kill for some fucking boredom. You must be this tall to ride. “Yeah.” “That’s cloud cover. “All right. . and you find yourself alone in the classroom where a dead woman named Mrs. Different or not. That just means you need a different sort of rationale.

“you don’t have to go.” She nods slowly and turns to leave.” She’s five feet from you now.” “I don’t feel like I know myself lately. but it was gone so quickly that I thought it’d never been there to begin with—. “Hey!” you say. and the thing is. like I want company. I saw it again and I knew that you had come here to save us. I don’t even know you. Okay.” you tell her with a small sigh. I knew that you’d come here to save me—. You. I don’t mind you.” Four feet. The more I think about it. . looking all . “Jake let me in. the less it makes sense.” . “I’m sorry to bother you. but I’ve never even really talked to you. I think I thought I was dreaming you.” you say.”--you let out a small chuckle--“It was . I smash that Love into a thousand tiny little pieces. Both of you have been inching closer to one another.” you tell her. “so good luck with that. “Yeah. as I tried to sleep. . “It was intense and powerful and I fell in Love with it. but whenever someone tried to Love me. this fear. curvy. I think. There is something in your eyes like there is in Aaron’s and I saw it for a second—. . . wondering at what it used to be—just a place to sit around and be bored. “I was just looking around this classroom. but it doesn’t. Adric.” she says.” “I try to make it all fit together . . . It made me feel almost safe. “But when you beat down that asshole. sitting down cross-legged on the tile floor about ten feet away from you.” “Oh. Lisa walks in one step at a time and sort of smiles at you. . “It’s all so huge. the more sure I become that I’m not going to wake up. “When I turned yesterday and saw you standing there. I really want to. I was thinking about how preferable that would be to this . It made me feel a new sort of fear entirely.” Three feet.The door opens. . An exhilarating kind of fear that I could feel forever. and the less it makes sense.” she tells you. I feel alone. “I was watching you last night. fantastic.

A great burning spreads over and through you to the pulsating jungle-rhythm of your fluttering heart. and it’s so goddamn overwhelming.” she says “One. And the orgasm bursts into being like a flash flood. “We. reshaping them forever. She does something similar.” you say. behind the vulnerability. You wrap your hands around her. while the giant flaming pussy of darkness loses its decaying teeth and takes a brand new shape. tongues doing battle with one another. “That was amazing. Your lips are locked with her own. . It isn’t until a fifteen minute period of recovery that you speak. You yank yourself out of her and gasp for air. . but are to wrapped up in what’s going to happen to take any notice of what is happening. I look in your eyes and I see it there behind the sadness and the confusion. but you scarcely notice. You don’t know what these words and images mean. overtaking the landscape of thought and feeling. Contact. In a matter of—seconds? minutes? hours? days?—you can feel yourself inside of her. and she wraps hers around you. afraid that something will touch them and you will explode into pure energy. thus becoming the giant amoxicillin-pink pussy of endless Love and virtue. but you do know that the pleasure overtaking every fiber of your being is too much for you to handle. erecting the totem pole of holiest worship. “Power. You are doing the same. . “And now.” you say. “What is it?” you whisper. and what’s more. . You can feel her hands gliding all over your body frantically. cupping your hands around your genitalia.” she says.” One foot. .” . The stars bleed transcendental soliloquies into the funnel-shaped ears of unbelievers.Two feet. “Are. you can feel her feeling you inside of her and feel her feeling you feel being inside of her . trying to get you as naked as possible without the use of cognition.

but a room of impossible vastness. “We’re not in the school anymore. with empires of eyes upon you. upon which sat a pile of papers and a jar of pens. It is bound in leather. “You’re a sharp one.” she says.” he adds. “it was. Her clothes are immaculate. New world or not. leaving the room. written in (blood) dark red ink. You reach the computer lab at roughly 12:30 and place three careful knocks on the door. It isn’t the computer lab at all. full of foreboding and something without name —the bastard child of hate and respect. “Come in. “Aaron will be here in a moment. are we?” you ask.” she says. “I’ve always wondered about that smile. the rumor-mill churns as swiftly as ever.” she says. On this page.” she tells you. complete with satin curtains covering windows that reached from about five feet above the floor to two feet below the twenty foot high ceiling. The owners of the eyes speak amongst themselves in hushed tones. “follow me. which swings open immediately and a girl that you recognize as the stunningly beautiful Crissi Drake.” says Aaron. You slam the book shut and return it to its shelf. taking a seat without being offered one seemed like a bad idea. It is also bookmarked by a tattered old cloth to a page towards the end. you grab a book off of one of the shelves—the one you recognize from the vision given to you be Vuru Raha. Considering the setting.” “What is it?” you ask him. Instead. You jot these facts down in your head under the heading SUSPICIOUS FACTS. You didn’t hear him come in. “You went right to it. paged in thin cloth. The room is overwhelming. her hair is well-kept and she appears to be wearing make up. but it appeared that everyone was coming with you.“Yes.” You do. still short of breath. down staircases and finally into a small study filled with strange-looking books and an archaic desk. there is a depiction of you. You do and she closes the door shut behind you. .” *** Noon comes and goes and you find yourself walking the halls. You don’t dare sit down. taking small peaks at her ass as she leads you through hallways. “like you recognized it from somewhere. from which hangs a sparkling chandelier. It almost looks like a palace ballroom. Aaron had told you to come alone. and you are grinning an unpleasant and somehow impotent grin of malice.

“It’s a prophetic work. “One of these cats was a pure. “Fate? A ludicrous notion of the feeble-minded. fate?” you ask. He looked as Lovely . after nearly half a year of earning that Lovely little felines trust. I want to create something better. on a whim. he let me touch him. I am not blessed with that gift. those who can see the future can shape it to their liking. “Then how can I be in it?” you ask. just because we are in control of our destinies doesn’t mean that the future cannot be accurately foreseen by those who know how to look. beautiful white.” “It looks old. but it was enough land to host at least one family of raccoons and a number of feral cats. Not a forest by any stretch of the imagination. “It’s a detailed account of the end of one world. An amazing creature. There. we rented a small but adequate little house that was basically surrounded by woods. “A few years ago. why not just kill me?” “We must be enemies because you want to give humanity a second chance and I do not. he would come up to my hand. well.” “Then this whole ordeal was destined to happen? It was all a matter of . widening his sharp eyes only a fraction.” “It is. whereas I used to have to set it down and take a few steps back before he’d even approach it. . New world. He feared me without knowing why. taking the meet ever so cautiously before bolting away to consume it at a safe distance. . But slowly.” he says. Big. pet him. however. What’s more. He died in my hands. New rationale. clever-looking eyes . . we lived in a small town in Louisiana called Abita Springs. I would feed him pieces of sliced chicken every night. and if we are. I snapped his little neck. After about a month.He raises his eyebrows. all malnourished and scared senseless of everything. let me tell you a story. and the beginning of another.” “Why should we be enemies in the first place. . listen to him purr. . before my family moved to North Carolina. . He laughs at you. which gives me quite an edge over you. “One night. but I am blessed with this book. I gained his trust. As for why I do not kill you now . Finally.

after a few months of renovations.” “Yes.as ever in the moonlight. “Tell me why I’m not dead. . all of that delightful decadence that humanity took for granted. nails and semi-trucks. ‘How is that possible?’ I . “Don’t bother asking your next question. but I know better. You are still alive for one simple reason. flush toilets. grabbing the book off the shelf once more and flipping to the front. “This is a southern plantation that I stole from the late 1800’s. .” he tells you.” “I’m not tough. Just answer my question. For a moment no one utters a word. as I’m sure you’ve noticed: electric lights. “They aren’t in that book of yours?” you ask. but only you would dare say anything about it. You give up on that question and ask another. working showers . Adam. . I haven’t killed you yet. Though.” you say.” “I’d like to say that I admire cocky sons of bitches who beat around the fucking bush instead of telling me what I want to know. “I knew you were tougher than you looked. “What is this place?” “I expected that to be the first question.” “Whatever. you know. “but plenty of people have been pissed at me.” says Aaron.” he says. “I admire one who deals with fear through humor.” “What other questions?” asks Aaron.” you tell him. “Maybe it’s in the table of contents. A fool in my position would write it off as stupidity.” “Very well. utterly unfazed by your sudden change in demeanor.” Aaron smiles wide. “Okay. but to be honest. “Then answer my other questions. “But--?” “That line of questioning has come to its conclusion. . ” There is a look of awful contentment on Aaron’s face as he says this. we have all the modern luxuries. it fucking irritates me.” he says. . You’re as tough as leather. I can see it in your face. “I’m just pissed.” Aaron laughs. I can see that.” you say.

here. unless something makes you forget. you posed a threat to me.” says Aaron. which I will explain to you in detail momentarily. “It was only a few weeks later that my father got transferred to North Carolina and I started attending Myre High School. but not the only one. where I saw Alva for the very first time. but not of Adam—had made a deal with a being called Arafael—a fallen angel—for the destruction of the earth and that God. and indeed I could have. . That was until the day when I chose to break into Alva’s home one week and stole every single spell book in his possession--which the angel must have known I would do. “Around the time that I was murdering felines in cold blood. I was visited one summer night by an angel who spoke to me in Seraphim. I simply got it before I needed it. you know it forever. the angel spoke of you on that night as well.” “But how could you read the books in the first place? What language are they even in?” “Seraphim. breaking the promise he made to Noah. . They say that experience is something that you don’t get until you no longer need it. For you see. decided to sanction. Alva’s course of action. The angel told me that there was a man named Alva. a dialect inherently understood by all of God’s creations. rather than oppose. “That book gave me the edge I needed. “Bingo. smiling face. The angel said that should I choose the wrong path—the path I’m on now—you would kill me. For now. I knew the language because once you hear seraphim spoken. These books contain hundreds of thousands of spells. the language of Heaven. if I’d wanted to. The angel then told me that I was the only one who could prevent Alva from destroying the world . otherwise. Better than Alva could. and while in some wildly different plain of existence. one of God’s sacred guardians of the earth—a direct descendent of Eve. It told me everything that was going to happen--all of the mistakes that was going to make. As things are. He knew only a bastardized version of the dialect.” Your eyes dart to the leather-bound book that contains the picture of your depraved. That’s one of the reasons he was weaker than I am . If I had the proper vocal cords. Where I saw you for the very first time when you started the next year. . . how did she expect me have the power to stop him? But there was at least one book there that she hadn’t counted on. in fact. I could speak it to you right now. I will concern myself with the story of how I came to possess these tomes and how I became the most powerful sorcerer in the history of the earth. I can only read and write it. No angel ever spoke to him in Seraphim. many of which I have used over the last two years to achieve my objective. and I just had to brag about it. . you are nothing to me. “For the longest time. you served as collateral against my choosing the path that best served my interests.will tell you.

” you say. I have shown and told you what I have today for the simple reason that I respect you. “when you will try. She has fulfilled her obligation. After less than a minute of taking in what you are seeing.” you tell him. the new world incarnation of Arafael. Vuru Raha. ‘He’ll kill you on the spot. or I will have to kill you. You slowly make your way over to it. looking at his bare wrist.” he says.” You don’t say anything. . On that day. “I am going to kill you. . There is no greater joy than seeing the . you don’t think you’d be able to say it. “One more thing before you go. “Ah. She no longer plays a part in these events. you turn away and saunter back to where Aaron stands. you will fail. which makes you feel like a small child.” he chuckles. shaking severely.” He is pointing towards one of the tall windows to your right.” He opens the door. I stand before you in the comfortable knowledge that you are no threat to me whatsoever. If you did think of something to say. and the even more comfortable knowledge that you know it. It’s so high off the ground that you have to stand on your tiptoes to see out of it. “It’s not entirely a world of hellfire and brimstone.” he says with a lick of the lips. “Take a look out that window. walks you back upstairs and through hallways to the room with tall windows and satin curtains. and doesn’t care about the matter beyond that--” ‘Don’t tell him about our connection!’ shouts Vuru from inside your head. “Our meeting’s almost over. “Look at the time. “I figured you’d need some help getting back here. You can’t think of anything to say. Now. . Eden’s sequel via the roach goddess. since you paid more attention to Crissi’s ass than where she was leading you. I respect you because if I’d never found that book.’ “—and you’d do well to never mention that garden again. “Then follow me. you could have beaten me.” he says.“I let Alva have his world of hellfire and brimstone.” he tells you. “No further questions?” asks Alva. “The day will come. The garden. but I didn’t let him keep it. looking up into the predatory eyes that ornament his smiling face.” he adds.

Failure to show up will forfeit your rights as a leader of the sheeple. if you’ve got a question. “SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!” you scream.inevitability of defeat on the face of your enemy. belch or sniffle. Today is Tuesday.” you say. “Everyone shut up!” you yell. As you listen. You raise your hands. Not even a cough. The crowd shuts up and you look at them with heat stinging your cheeks. one at a time. asking pointless. When he is done speaking. you never break eye contact with him. “One at a time! One at a time!” you shout to no avail.” . “We can’t get rid of them. “You may go. You look over to Jake. hindered by the crowd of interested spectators surrounding you on every front.” As he speaks. with yet more people asking more questions. a ringing in your ears and a sharp shortness of breath. Oh. you will need to attend the meetings.” *** The walk back to Mrs. I will take three questions. and if you are to take Adric’s place as one of my generals. No one pays any attention. When you finally reach the classroom. even louder than before. fart.” he yells into your ear. “The door behind you leads out. Jake approaches you from the mob’s ranks with aggravation apparent in his every expression and gesture. “I will answer all of your question—” The noise picks up again as everyone screams out their questions again. he turns his back on you and walks away saying. whose face is buried in his hands. then back at the inquiring throng. So. stupid questions for which you have no good answers. he never breaks eye contact with you. “Listen to me and don’t say a fucking word until I call on you.’ You clear your throat. by all means. They talk over one another. fruitless. proves to be a completely futile effort. “How do they expect me to talk if they wont shut up?” you yell to Jake. “Everyone SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Silence. They are every Wesnesday at noon. so your first meeting will be tomorrow. signaling for silence. Kyle’s classroom is a lengthy one. who shrugs and mouths ‘fuck if I know. you find it as crowded as the hallways. This also. raise your hand. “Thank you.

” “Lucky for you. you can’t spot a single person without a hand raised. Kyle’s classroom.” you tell them. Jake is the last one to step into the room and closes the door softly behind him. acting as if you don’t recall him. His cruel eyes seem to be perpetually gleaming from too much water retention. By the time everyone returns to their respective factions and you are left once again with Lisa. Lisa. “Well everyone. Jake’s smile is big enough to swallow up what’s left of the world.Aside from Jake. we extend our welcome to you. he looks fragile.” you say. . I hate people. “I’m so tired. he exits. In walks the boy who you remember from the night before as Devin. Jake and your small gang of leftovers. they’re almost extinct. you’re ready to go to sleep.” They both follow you into the room a little ways down the hall from Mrs. Jake. I’m sleeping in the adjacent room. I need to talk to both of you. Now.” you say through a yawn. “Everyone. come with me. which is by this time as tight as and ant’s asshole. man. He looks at you as if he wants to burn you down with his gaze and he with clenched teeth and a scrunched up chin he says. “Adam Black. The anger that burns in his face isn’t far removed from sorrow. “I’ve got a migraine. “Welcome.” *** By the time the questions taper off. Last time you saw him. trying to avoid any action which will irritate his headache. acting as if you are completely oblivious to the enmity that fills his every minute gesture.” “Yes?” you say. he was a mere silhouette.” With that said. Jake. and seemed arresting. bring me a chair.” says Corey. The door opens once more. Jake says. seeing him in the fleeting daylight.” he somehow chokes from of his throat. Of course you tired. would you? This is gonna take awhile. very slowly. “The other generals and me. sit down. “You had a long ass day. “Oh boy. it is near nightfall.

you have to know. “you’re what everyone with good left in them’s been praying for! A hero! And I don’t care what books Aaron’s got. .” you say. . and as I was leaving .” Lisa says.You ignore the table surrounded by chairs. “It’s awful. Lisa. he showed me something too goddamn awful to really be true. you think. I think you’re entitled. I wish I would have played hooky on Red Day. “Jake. telling them everything. but I’ve got the feeling that it doesn’t apply to me. but I can tell you right here and now that I’d be happier if you went into Kyle’s with the others. leaving out only the fact that you stared and lusted over Crissi’s ass as she led you to Aaron’s study. I’m sorry. .” “Don’t say that!” shouts Lisa.” she tells you.” you tell them. though. The world really is a fucked up place when people like them look up to me. . well. I wish I hadn’t survived. I pretty much know that you won’t do that. “How could you have seen something like that and walked out of there? I mean.” “It does! It really does. “that I want to cut my head off just to get rid of all these memories. Tears—soundless tears—are pouring down both of their faces. “Wish in one hand. “I can’t. I wish it’d never happened. . “I’ve seen so much. When you finish the story. I know you can beat him. You let out a yawn of utter weariness and look blurry-eyes upon the strong and loyal Jake and the Lovely and timid girl that you think you might be in Love with.” “No. shit in the other. Adam! I felt it when we—uh. red faced. but I know it was. “I don’t even know what that is. Both of them wear faces of dire exhaustion and something below that which terrified you—admiration. falling down onto her knees. how is it that you’re still able to form sentences and have speak coherently? How are you still sane?” Jake asks.” “Good?” you ask. “The story I gave everyone else was edited to all shit.” you say.” You nod your head and begin the real story. . you know. “The real story of my meeting with Aaron is . opting to sit in the corner on the floor instead. Things transpired in that room that I can’t even begin to accept.” . . Jake and Lisa look at you in horrible silence. if you want to know. “I have to tell someone.

but if they were open. flapping its delicate wings like a butterfly- . you’re dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. “I’m tired myself. Your fried little brain cells start humping each other again and before you can say ‘shit happens’ your motor-mind is revved up once again.” It’s too dark to tell. the subtlety of her nose. though sputtering as if someone pissed in the fuel tank. Jake yawns and says. but you get the feeling that Lisa is blushing. and something about that is so frightening that it’s tranquil. This is euphoria somehow. and mourning that fact would be an act of tremendous stupidity. DAY TEN: AEROBIC TORTILLINI Sleep ends without bothering to inform you. You are sort of amazed looking at her. as if the very question were absolutely ridiculous. you would see vulnerability there and a gossamer layer of something without definition below it: like a damp sheet drying in the summer winds.“Don’t be tactful on my account. You know you won’t remember them when you wake up. It makes you want to rattle yourself around and see if there’s anything good inside. I guess I’ll go back to Kyle’s and try to sleep off this damn headache. You tell yourself that you don’t deserve her. actually. and for a few minutes you are a confused and retarded boy lying his hard and weary back on a hard and hateful floor. but the discomfort barely registers. . Next thing you know. so hideous that it’s comforting.” He leaves the room and Lisa lies down beside—practically on top of—you. . You look at the delicate curve of her chin. That’s the big secret of existence: everything is the same as its opposite if you push it hard enough. will you stay her with me?” “Of course I will. She pushes her head snuggly into your dirty old shirt and you lie there stroking her hair until you’re too tired to even do that. I knew pretty well what was going to transpire.” says Jake. “I’m the one that decided to let you in.” she says. so evil that it’s good. “Lisa . Lisa is still wrapped around you like a pretty bow on a Christmas present. “I’m very tired. Your arm is asleep under her weight. arching up into thoughtful brows. but you find that you don’t care if you deserve her or not—she’s yours just the same.” you say. the lush tightness of her lips. Her eyes are closed. but it doesn’t last. Completely astounded.

A girl doesn’t understand father-son relationships anymore than a guy understands mother-daughter relationships. you add. .” “That’s. “because yours give me answers. Perhaps it offers insight into your depravity. puzzled. “Geez! I sound like my father! Not even the apocalypse could prevent me from turning into my father. Yet. . you think. I have to meet with all the other generals. Perhaps it offers insight into your insecurity. Her expression makes you laugh a bit and shrug your shoulders. You find yourself wondering what she’s thinking. Then. .” You brush a rebellious strand of hair out of her eyes and kiss her without tongue and without romance. maybe. to be her knight in shining armor. trailing of as she speaks. how she felt about you. Love is only possible among the psychic.” Lisa says. still smiling.” “I guess my eyes ask you questions.jellyfish and baking in the hot summer sun like the beach-roasted butts of thong-clad sunbathers. if not as sweet. Something deeper than Love. “Like what?” you ask. You want to protect her. . If Devin is any indicator. . than I’m basically just showing up to a big ‘fuck-you’ festival where everyone takes turns jamming their middle fingers up my ass. She sees you looking at her. only studies you. You want her to validate your existence. What’s it matter? You know damn well that you’re not your father. You see her looking at you looking at her. but this is your definition of beauty. “I’ve got a dead-end job that I don’t want and the boss is an asshole that hates my guts and wants me dead! My life has turned out exactly as he told me it would. Hate too.” you say. “I have to go to a meeting today. Her eyes open slowly. horrified. I’m sure most of them are gonna give me a hard time. She smiles and giggles and averts her gaze.” you say. then says. but you are attracted to her weaknesses. . The kiss signified something else entirely. you suppose. The bitter fucker!” Lisa doesn’t say anything. “It’s at noon. to be needed by her. how she was perceiving you. “Why do you look at me like that?” she asks. She doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Like you’re asking me questions that I don’t know about. .

whe was banished from Eden and given the life of a monster. wretched as it may be. . her hands wrestle off yours. Alva before his violent death. This is a flat world where orgasms are real and the earth. It’s only a matter of strangely-shaped moments before the two of you are interlocked once again in tongue combat. You might sail off the edge of the world.” “I’m not perfect. Aaron is seated at the head of the table in a burgundy office chair that most likely belonged to Mr. . or even move for a long time. So God told her to cut that shit out. Sensuality--if not outright perversion. .” she says. caught of guard. “You’re perfect for me.” you whisper in her ear. drenched in the sweat of her passion. I think you’re perfect. surprised by how smoothly the words exit your lips. “You’re a very sensual girl. but she just wouldn’t do it. according to Jewish scholars seeking to fix discrepancies in the holy book. It doesn’t take you long at all to cum and she seems to cum a moment later. *** The computer lab is just a computer lab again. Neither of you say a word there. From this story. arousing. You can feel yourself softening inside of her as you pant and bury your face in her shoulder. is the center of the universe. Your hands wrestle of her pants. but you’ve learned from the media to distrust the female orgasm. but at least you don’t have to worry about obnoxious little boxes feeding you insecurities until you shit wads of money into their boney little claws. She collapses on top of you.“What’d you say?” you ask. This isn’t a media world anymore though. She liked riding dick too much. forever walking the earth in misery. Only instead of rows and rows of computers there are just two picnic tables pushed together in the center of the room with a chairs arranged around them. contemplating nothing in particular and feeling content. Adam found this first mate to be unsatisfactory because she liked to fuck on top.” You laugh. “I said That’s kind of. and she rides you like a twenty-five-cent plastic pony. you can discern that Adam was a complete idiot. . The Adam of Eden had a wife before Eve called Lilith. tempered by timidity.” you reply. erm. “that’s what’s under the vulnerability. So. You just lie there. Your hands are on her ass but you don’t remember putting them there.

The room falls as silent as a night in the wastelands of the dead earth. “I will review the transfer requests myself and give him no more than twenty. Aaron is still smiling. You’ve given him the impression that I tolerate outbursts from my inferiors.” “Wait a minute!” you say. Aaron. but they are more careful with these.” answers Aaron. “Do not interrupt.” .” “Then you are forgiven as well. looking unperturbed and comically unconcerned.” he says. All of them want to serve under Adam.” Every part of you screams ‘NO!’ except for you mouth.” “Thank you. “No.“Adam!” says Aaron with a politician’s smile. slamming his fist on the table and blasting onto his feet. “Calm down. here. I think you’ve been a bad influence on our esteemed associate.” Devin looks at Aaron like he’s looking at a piece of dog shit and he says.” “What do you mean?” asks Devin. “No. “is to address the massive number of transfer requests I’ve received since Adam here took the place our beloved Adric. between Devin and Garrett.” “I’d like to choose them myself. Adam. Dev. which says.” says Aaron.” “Bullshit!” screams Devin. “I’m sorry.” you tell him.” says Aaron.” says Aaron.” Devin throws you a contemptuous glance and no one else at the table looks any friendlier. “You sit right there. You even see them slip Aaron a few hateful looks. I was being overly emotional. “Now you apologize. “Carlos.” “You are forgiven. “Nearly a hundred people have submitted transfer requests to McQueen. though his tone says the exact opposite. “I think the first order of business. “I apologize. Devin. I believe you have something to report.

waste food.” A gangly Latino boy with a lot of facial hair rises up from his chair and says. You have only a second in fruit fly years to react and the stick is whooshing through the the air towards your head. You’re okay with that. . . the slums of Hell. Carlos. your report. Garrett?” asks Aaron. Pretty slow week.” says Aaron. After a fit of spasmodic. all of em minor. We got five or so discipline problems in Garrett’s and two in Cody’s. They taunt the other guy’s girls. Adric. I think if we—. “that’s my chair!” And he charges like rhino with his weapon raised up high above his head that it scrapes the ceiling as he runs. They don’t listen to a damn thing I say. crumples to the ground clutching his gut. . if you could just give me permission to send them to the locker room. Adam?” This is not a real question.” Garret says. “I don’t know what to do about them. They probably requested transfers anyway. In his eyes. In his hand. the fires of Hell. “The rest of you could learn a lesson in manners from Adam. Through jagged and wheezy breaths and . Adric looks up at the cruel-eyed wonder that stands perched over him like a curious wraith. Now.” “Five. No way to stop it! BRACE FOR IMPACT! Dot dot dot. aren’t you. here’s the deal. Now. call me a fascist . there is a flash of motion and a loud thud. who had been standing in front of you looking confused. Aaron is standing beside your chair. . .” “I doubt such a drastic course of action will be necessary.” he roars at you. the next order of business regards getting this damned plumbing working again. Are you having some sort of control problem?” “It’s the same guys doing it every damn week. “You damn fucking son of a bitch.” you say. clutching a hockey stick in both hands as desperately as one might grip the edge of a cliff. Adric’s hockey stick. Then. Adam can take them off your hands. “Of course. “Grand. mechanical coughing. “and last week it was four.“You’re welcome. And not the good parts of Hell.” The door explodes open and there stands the shattered and battered Adric Motka. “All right.

day after tomorrow—Friday. canned ravioli you ate earlier. . and stomp. nine . please! I did everything you told me too!” “six . Adric is able to choke out one small (but never insignificant) word: “Why?” For a moment. his pause was simply for dramatic effect. and stomp. You want to think lasagna. four . At noon as . and lift. and Adam. . two . “Everyone is dismissed. . “If you have any questions. And then comes a countdown. it doesn’t look much like the cold. three . . . “why not?” And then comes Adric’s face at the base of Aaron’s boot heel. “Let’s schedule the next meeting for. you need to read this. . that’s enough excitement for one meeting. but you know better. Five of six teeth and a chunk of tongue shoot out of his mouth when it happens and they may half of the journey up toward the ceiling. And lift. McQueen will be happy to answer them for you. five . eight . let’s see. . . . . No.” “And everyone.over the course of half a dozen syllables. “Because.” he adds before anyone gets over their shock enough to scrape themselves away. one . A mind like his works so fast that he could have answered the question before it was asked if he’d chosen to.’ What happens next is something straight out of a work out video. . because Adric’s face now looks like some amateur chef ’s failed attempt at some Italian dish. and stomp. “Ten . Mr. . but the piece of skin hanging off to the side makes you think tortellini.” He pulls a few folded up sheets of paper from his pants pocket and hands them to you. and lift. . and lift. Adric’s last breath isn’t a noise you’d ever have expected to hear come from a human being because it sounds like a gunshot or a car backfiring. Adric seems to contemplate an answer.” answered Adric. The papers tell you where you can find him. . . and stomp. Or maybe what happens next is more like a cooking show. .” “Please! No! Please!” “Fuck off!” says Aaron in the tone one would more commonly use to say ‘blast off. . A mind like Adric’s doesn’t stop to think about anything. .” says Aaron. . . Oh.” “Aaron. “Well. Thankfully. seven .

“Please forgive me! Please! I am grateful! I’m so grateful that you sicked your roaches on me. You have no idea where she wondered off to. “Yeah. and .” Vuru doesn’t reply to this and you thank the ceiling and close your eyes.” you tell her. and we receive nothing but disrespect in return.’ she answers. raped me so you could have my baby.’ says Vuru calmly. Lisa’s not here.” “How was the meeting?” “It went better for me than it did for Adric. covered me in shit.always.” *** ‘That went well. “That’s real comforting. drove my friend crazy and.” . Fine. you’re back. “Are you always watching?” you sigh. . You think of it as your room. little human boy. We will not bother to tell you that your friend is not crazy. Whatever. You are leaving out that you enjoyed having intercourse with us. ‘You’re a rather unappreciative host. “All right. but enlightened.’ “That’s wonderful. am I leaving anything out?” ‘Yes.’ You stick out your lower lip and blow a dirty clump of hair out of your face.” ‘It should be.’ says Vuru as you plop into the corner of the room adjacent to Mrs. ‘You are leaving out the fact that those roaches were placed there to test your worth. rising to your feet with your hands clutched to your face. “Oh.” she says. We have done so much for you.’ “Oh!” you say. Kyle’s. ‘We are Legion and our eyes are everywhere. I don’t care. We’re your edge—the tarot card up your inter-dimensional sleeve. The door swings open and Lisa walks in. . and that it was necessary to forge this connection. because your limited mind probably cannot distinguish between the two.

spilling out of her like juice from an overripe fruit. Jagged-edged stars do crazy dances in front of your eyes on stages of subtle light while unseen spectators toss meteors at them. or know which of the three you should try to figure out how to do first. Your mind begins to drift towards the future—not the scary future of uncertainty. breathe. You discover quite quickly that you prefer this secondary altar to the one of God’s intention. She does not say anything. “I’m glad that he’s dead. It is as close as you can come to posing the question as to whether or not she’ll allow you to enter her there.” she says. but are scared to ask it with your mouth. “I never let him. you wonder. You lay curled there beside her. upside-down and sideways?. Orgasm is intense and its seeds are plentiful. nor does she make any sort of gesture. The words hit like a nuclear warhead and explode through your head like Fourth of July fireworks.” Then she says. You pull yourself from her with a popping noise like that of a suction cup being pulled from a smooth. “Adric always wanted to fuck me there. This fireworks extravaganza ceases a moment later and you feel what passes for reality seeping back into your pleasure-racked body and before you know it you’re on your feet again pacing back and forth contemplating thoughts A thru Z and pretending that you can make some sort of crazy sense of them. think. The aftermath of this religious ritual that you have come to know as fucking consists of lying around too exhausted to move. It makes you want to fuck again. You wonder to yourself whether or not she understands the question. From your dick to the pit of your stomach you feel weightless and tingly. . thinking of how damn nice it is to be in Love or lust or whatever in between space you were now occupying. You hold her tightly against you from behind so that she can feel you stiffening up once again inside the warm space betwixt her snow-white butt cheeks. This feeling is endlessly stimulating and uncompromisingly intoxicating. grabs your hardness firmly in her fist and guides it deliberately into her rear entrance and you push yourself inside to her musical groans of pleasure.*** The sex was brilliant. bathing your mind with strange colors.” She reaches behind her. Will she let me fuck her mouth. but the exciting future of sexual exploration. glass window. Would she care if you fucked other people? Would she be hurt if she knew you’d been thinking about Crissi that last time? The answers to these questions is perhaps not as important as how they make you feel. her butt.

we get to go back to our trailers and have coffee. I Love her not’ ad nauseam to a techno beat. but your words crumble into dust and fly away into the ocean breeze.” you say. but she just brushes your hair back and lies down next to you. “What?” Lisa asks. retreating.” “That doesn’t sound like you. “No idea. “I think I’m having a panic attack. I guess not. “What’s wrong?” she asks in a voice that sounds more like an echo than anything coming directly from human vocal cords. She puts her hand on your forehead as if to check for a high temperature. When we’re done shooting. .” you say. “Yeah. “Life is all a movie. “What happened?” she asks. but now she’s surrounded by an amber glow and comes complete with her own chorus of angels singing beautiful threats through megaphones. “but it was weird. before existence bounces away and you’re left in the field where they grow darkness from the seeds of human hatred and confusion. Her eyes are closed. Sodomy flowers spring up from the thin black earth and you pick them with your thoughts and tear away the Vaseline-scented petals while two-dimensional Japanese anime versions of your Crayola-scribbled souls chant ‘I Love her. as naked as truth and as beautiful as a lie. It felt like I was . .” “Retreating?” “Yeah. She’s pressed up close to you.” you whisper at her reflection.” You look at her. “Nothing” you tell her. . She’s still looking at you with concern. You Love her and you Love her not and you kiss her brow and you feel yourself beginning to doze off. “What?” you ask back.Lisa stares at you from the fuck corner with curious concern in her eyes.” You think of Johnny rotting somewhere in Vuru Raha’s endless black palace. You realize that you’re lying down on the hard floor and she’s kneeling over you like a medic.

Jake is across the room and yellow jersey is on the floor getting pummeled with a storm of lightning punches. *** “Did you know Jake was gay?” you ask Lisa.” says Jake. Jake here is my enforcer.” you say with a smile.” you say. We’ve got a whole lot of new people next door!” “My new recruits. holmes.” Almost as fast as Aaron hit Adric. “You don’t have any clothes on!” You’re quite refreshed to find that you don’t much care and you saunter into Mrs. “I am a faggot. “and this piece of shit here just got his ass kicked by a faggot. you’ll get your ass kicked by a faggot too. “I’m not your leader. He’ll see too it that you behave. “Yeah.There’s a knock at the locked door and you yell. “What he said. and if any of you have a problem with me or with General Black. “Wait!” shouts Lisa. “He tried to fucking hit on my brother in fucking Drama club! I ain’t scared of his little queer ass. unlocking it and stepping out into the hallway.” you tell them. his fists shaking as though stopping is the last thing on his mind. that much you can see in their eyes. “Fearless fucking leader done forgot his fucking pants. “Who is it?” “It’s Jake. “That faggot!” yells some beady-eyed kid in a tattered yellow basketball jersey. They’re unruly and disrespectful of authority. standing up. he was sorely mistaken.” someone shouts. Jake does not return to his feet until yellow jersey isn’t moving and even then he does so slowly. I thought everyone did. If Aaron thought this would present a problem for you. I’m just some guy that has the power to do terrible things to you. You can tell right off the bat that Aaron gave you every trouble-maker left in the school.” . running to the door.” Silence. Kyle’s class in the nude and you find that this gets their attention.

Aaron’s Ten Commandments for Citizens (NOTE: THESE SHOULD BE POSTED IN ALL CLASSES IN YOUR TERRITORY) . My generals have served me well and shall be rewarded with territory. Though shalt not fall in Love with thy mistress. Thou shalt not speak ill of Aaron’s mistress Crissi or any action taken by Crissi. “He must have had one of the old computers hooked up to the generator or something. Thou shalt not grant to any female the rights granted to a male. 3. 2. Aaron’s Ten Commandments for Generals 1. A new order must emerge. would ya?” “Sure.” you say. 10. THE MASTER PLAN By: Aaron Bittor “Subtle. “Yeah. or something. 5. “I have to read something. 8. 9. Thou shalt not speak of what may lie beyond the school. 7.” you say.“Oh.” you say. Thou shalt not engage in acts of homosexuality. “It’s typed out.” you say. Thou shalt not speak ill of Aaron or any action taken by Aaron.” She opens the blinds and you pull out the folded pieces of paper Aaron gave you in the meeting. Thou shalt not make war on one another unless I sanction the action. Thou shalt not mention Alva’s name or the name of any of his fallen army without contempt (hatred). 6. Though shalt not fuck up.” suggests Lisa. 4. open those blinds. Thou shalt not grant rights to citizens that violate Aaron’s Ten Commandments for Citizens. Below this there is a map of the school showing how the territories are divided.

write or draw unless the subject matter glorifies Aaron or some other superior. but the one across from it. report them to Mr. I don’t know what he does to kids that get sent down there. looking at the papers in your hands. 6. 1. 4. You’ve seen them. 3. McQueen can send someone to the locker room. McQueen in the Cafeteria and they will be discussed at council meetings where appropriate action will be taken. If these fail. citizens will be sent to the locker room. Public beatings are encouraged as a first form of deterrent. Supreme Lord of the Universe. YOU DO NOT have the power to send citizens to the locker room. 8. Food will be distributed by Mr.” answers Lisa. Do not speak ill of your superiors. You just never paid much attention to them. Do not fight with your fellow citizens without the sanction of your General. Do not question the actions of your superiors. 7. Enjoy your power. Do not engage in acts of homosexuality. McQueen upon request and you may present him with any questions you may have. unless you are a female and it is on the orders of your owner. Aaron Bittor “Cocky son of a bitch. 10. “Billy? That huge guy that always wore the cowboy hat?” “The one and only. Do not fuck with me. 2. Do not disobey orders. Not the fuck corner. Crissi or Mr. You crumple them up and toss them into the corner. Do not wander into someone elses territory unless you have business there. Do not read. Do not speak the name of Alva or any of his fallen army. Only a unanimous council vote or a direct order from myself. If you have behavioral problems. No one ever comes back. “What’s in the damn locker room anyway?” “Billy.They are.” you say. 5.” . These rules are to be strictly adhered too. 9. Do not eat what you are not given.

I guess.” he says. .” you say. made at least partially of dead human beings. “. but it sure sounds poetic.” says Jake from behind you. “They never came back.” “I guess not. . You didn’t know he was there. you think. boy. Aaron wants to restore the plumbing. I guess no one’s ever sure of anything when you get right down to it. “Nice night. It doesn’t matter. .” “I think we’ve all got a mouthful of the dead in one way or another. I just had to be sure.” she said. “I don’t know what that means. “at least twenty.” he answers. *** You’re standing on the dead lawn of the school.” you say in a bad John Wayne voice. They carry swarms of ash.” “Are you?” “Am I what?” “Sure. right?” “I know that. we could never be.” you say.” “Great. “I knew you knew it. The pond seems to have dried up almost entirely. They haven’t seen what you have.” “I’ll drink to that. there’s laws against your kind in these parts. .” “You know.” “You and I . “I Love getting a good mouthful of the dead.” says Jake. “Yeah. He’ll rebuild the infrastructure of the school and they’ll grow to Love him. You know that. how many people could possibly have gotten sent in the four days Aaron’s had power here?” “Well. a lot of people who refused to renounce Alva got sent.“Well. or I would if I had any booze. Aaron’s probably got more water than he knows what to do with. letting gusts of tormented wind rush over and (seemingly) through you. .

He probably did all this for the entertainment value.” he says. Everyone else did. You don’t exactly fit the stereotype. didn’t you?” It’s hard to tell through the ash and the darkness.” “You sent Lisa into the room the other day to test me out. “I’m still loyal to you. A guy swears his loyalty to you. “Not until about two years ago.” “Maybe so.“Aaron’s laws are a joke.” he answers. The next day. I was in Drama and I started falling slowly in Love with Dwayne Ridge.” you say with a smile.” “No. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to discover that his motivation for all this destruction and pain was something as inane as boredom. the straightest guy in Drama anyway.” “I didn’t really know I was for a long time. Even if I know getting into your pants is out of the question.” “Why? It’s not any of my business. the straightest guy on earth. not out of disgust but out of discomfort.” you tell him. “Sorry. Well. I tried to hit on him backstage during auditions one time and I got shot down with a punch to the eye. “Aaron’s a joke. . “And I thought I had some innate leadership ability. I think he’d take it as a compliment. I’d’ve told you.” he says. “and I don’t think he’d be at all insulted if I told him so.” “The apocalypse as one man’s sitcom. it makes a big difference whether he’s gay or straight.” you say.” “That isn’t funny. “I never would have though you were gay. I think he finds himself endlessly amusing. “And I’m still your friend. I just assumed that you knew. but you think Jake’s blushing. the whole school knew about it.” Jake says.” you say. “Of course it’s your business.” You cringe a little. “It’s not. If I’d have known you didn’t know.

” you say with bitter humor punctuating every syllable. The fields of.” “Word around the school is that you stabbed Adric to death in the meeting. “No. You see what you saw outside that towering window in Aaron’s plantation—the fields. if today is any indication. Being a General in Aaron’s army is a lot easier than you had previously imagined. . . Adam. “but if they fall flat on their backs. Your girlfriend—yeah. ‘You’re a real prick.” says Jake. they’ll squirm around like idiots and die of starvation trying to get back on their feet. you guess you can call her that—is sucking your dick with expert grace. In fact. struggling creature and sighs. He stomped him to death. And he didn’t stab him. ‘Do I have to be the good guy?’ you can hear yourself asking your inner Tiki God.” says Jake. YOU HAVE TO SAY IT WITH A CAPITAL L Your meeting isn’t until tomorrow. He treated everyone like shit. “They can survive the end of the world. Jake is handling it.’ says Vuru.” “I think it’s best we don’t talk about it. It feels strange to know that another guy wants to fuck me. You laugh. DAY ELEVEN: THAT WORD. Your little tribe has plenty of food and water. If anyone is acting up or out in any way. It topples over onto its hard back and begins flailing about madly. Aaron did it.” The wind dies down and suddenly everything seems too quiet to be real and you notice for the first time since stepping outside that the moon in the sky is full and white like a mother’s tit.“Bullshit.” “No great loss.” Jake just looks down at the small. “Okay. “I almost killed him myself the other day. I’m just not used to it. You don’t need to apologize. You stop yourself from objecting to this notion and instead say. . A small roach crawls in front of you and you kick it lightly. . The answer to this question is always the same. He treated me like shit. your overall quality of life is actually greater than it’s ever been.” says Jake.

” Lisa says.” you tell her. “maybe just hurt. Adam. She told you to be careful. “But I do Love you. we call it Love.” says Lisa.” you said. then he’d follow you through Hell just to be around you.Suddenly. she said something very wise.” “Yeah. “I didn’t say anything. ‘Smart girl.” you tell her. “I don’t think you’re crazy.” “No. “maybe. “Maybe I was crazy long before any of this happened. “Sorry. “Lust rarely translates into respect. studying an exact-o blade with your sleep-deprived eyes.” you say. at which he sneers. semen crusted in your pubic hair. pushing your seed into her digestive tract. ‘Lucky you. recalling moments spent alone in your room with the door locked.’ “I think I’d go crazy if I had someone talking to me in my thoughts. You also told her about your conversation with Jake and asked her for her thoughts. “I think I like being surprised.” you say. about the feeling of her insect-filled vagina and the pregnancy that your intercourse with her had produced—all of the things you had left out of the original story that you had told her and Jake a few nights earlier. embittered by thoughts of the window. You had told her the night before about the goddess inside your head.” you say.” she says with a mouthful of you. When you asked why.” At that point Vuru chimed in with. smashing your reverie into tiny black shards of limousine glass that once separated its important occupant from the irrelevant world. “I wasn’t talking to you. She said.” “I don’t know if I’m in Love with you or not.’ says Vuru with faux apathy.” she says. reflexively. When it does. The accompanying sensation of climax feels like nothing more than a small snap of pleasure. “So do I.’ “Shut up. ‘She swallows.” You see her throat muscles contract. looking into her eyes and wanting to die and melt into her. you ejaculate into Lisa’s mouth. You nod.” she says. “Vuru?” she asks. If he Loves you. Like a . “I meant to warn you. Adam. But lust isn’t necessary for Love.

you do. but if anyone has it. but you can tell that she’s smiling. You manage to not fall asleep after a day and night of almost uninterrupted sex with Lisa. “you have to say it with a capital L.” She stares at you silently for a long while with tears struggling to escape the prison bars of her eyelashes. “Yeah. “That word. Suddenly. Aaron manages to turn a discussion about restoring plumbing and electricity to the school into a speech worthy of a character from a Shakespearian play. perhaps only asking herself. Something about her hugging you makes your vision blurry with tears that run down your dirty face.” she says. to your meeting.brother maybe. DAY TWELVE: NO ONE CAN BEAT ROCK ‘N’ ROLL Lisa and Jake escort you.” “And an e that fell straight out of electric. “What is this feeling?” you ask her with a voice as shaky as crack-fiend having withdrawals.” “And a heart for an o. .” “Or evil.” you tell her. The latter is probably the one I notice more. It must be because she laughs and slaps your shoulder playfully. she lunges at you with her arms wide open and grabs you tightly.” you say.” you say. “What is this feeling?” she mirrors.” you say with what you hope is a pleasant smile. “You are such an extraordinarily beautiful girl. I don’t know if I believe in inner beauty or not.” you whisper into her ear.” she says reproachfully. Devin manages to keep his mouth firmly shut. “Way to ruin the moment. “and a v with a big old loop at the top. in silence. Every day she becomes more and more the human being she once was and less and less the timid creature you saw when you first returned to Myre High. “Inside and out.” “Then our relationship up until this point has been an incestuous one.

“Good. you could be the one to challenge him. to ask him where he was getting his water. Then. wolf-toothed smile. much to Aaron’s apparent delight. I’ll get right down to business then. “I’d like to talk to you for a moment. “So.” You do as bid. You get up from your chair like everyone else and head for the door. The room instantly begins to change shape around you. you don’t want to think about. “Well. How he planned on doing this. “Well. he did not mention. The door shuts as the last of the generals—Devin—steps out into the hallway. I need some volunteers for my little projects and your tribe was the first that came to mind. “I’m doing just fine. how are you adjusting?” he asks.” he says. his canned foods—but he would just flash you his ‘fuck you very much’ smile and you wouldn’t so much as flutter his little black heart or draw a single bead of sweat from his smooth. but Aaron calls out your name and you have no choice but to halt and do an about-face. his electricity. I’ll need you and three trustworthy workers to show up here tomorrow as soon after daybreak as possible. “Sit down. in an instant. he seems to shrug it off entirely and his eyes ignite once more. clean forehead.” “Why don’t you get them to do it?” you ask.” Aaron’s mouth remains curved upwards in a politician’s smile. You’re quite sure that he has his ways. Now the smile fades and for a moment it seems as though he loses his train of thought entirely.” he beckons with a broad. abandoning the pseudo cooperation strategy. pointing at the huge window. Sure. So instead you smile at him like a small child smiles at a parent who has just purchased them some expensive toy and say. but the light in his eyes flickers off for a moment and comes back a little weaker than before.” you say. Thank you for asking. . “Yes?” you say. You’re quite sure that he could have them both operating smoothly at any moment he so desired.” “We’d be happy to volunteer. concluding with Aaron saying that his top goal was to restore utilities to the school within the week.All and all the whole thing lasts about an hour. trying to sound unperturbed and failing dismally. but you know that’s what he wants. becoming the room with the huge staircases and towering windows with whirling satin curtains. What lies beyond those windows. Your gut reaction is to tell him flat out to cut the shit.

” he says.” “Fine. “Cut the shit!” you shout.” “Home.” “What about?” You tell them. signaling for you to do the same. “We were getting worried too. lets go home. “What do you think his motives are?” asks Jake. You were in there longer than anyone else. rising from his seat. indeed. They don’t apply here.” *** You walk into Mrs.” “What?” “Have a nice day. For the most part. “Home.” “No.” “Aaron wanted to talk to me. “Just to irritate me. . pointing to Aaron’s Ten Commandments for Citizens “You can ignore them. The guards nod at you in recognition and respect and Jake and Lisa greet you in the hallway. “Have you been waiting out here the whole time?” you ask them. “C’mon.” says Jake. It seems a string of fights have started up like wildfires all over the room. He escorts you to the exit.” he says. “There’re a few things I need to address. you see those rules right there?” you ask.” you say. “There is one more thing. Kyle’s class and into chaos. Is that all. “First of all. they do.“They’re busy working on more ambitious projects. “Yeah.” says Lisa. Jake smiles. shakes your hand firmly and closes the door gently behind you.

I know that in our Brave New World. Well. Not in the litchral dictionary sense or nothing. “I miss that sunavabitch. because everyone’s equal in this room. nasty sunuvabitch. My Mama and Dad was married right up till they got burnt up. Ain’t a goddamn one of us from Texas and I’m the only one who talks like ’e might be.” yells one guy dust-colored baseball cap. If you guys were alright with Johnny. Plus. “Hey.” You ignore the jeers that this statement produces.” Jake gets up close beside you and whispers. you think that girls are just objects that are there only to cater to your sexual whims. God bless the fuckers. I spose the name originated one drunken ass night when we was all sittin round the playstation and sharing a bottle of cheap tequila and playin some damn RPG that didn’t none of us unnerstand in our state of mind.“Second of all. “Me and Will and Bryan’ll help ya. you’re alright with me.” he says.” “And your name is?” “Everyone calls me The Bastard. you can shove that notion up your ass. I’m just a bastard in the sense that I’m a real no-good. Then his smile fades into what could almost be called a frown and he adds. We’re Johnny’s old posse! We used to call ourselves the Texas Four for some damn reason. “I’m surprised you don’t recognize me! I guess it was Dark.” he says with a shit-eating grin even bigger than Johnny’s was. “On account of I’m a bastard. though.” you tell him and his two companions. They obviously need constant supervision. I need three volunteers to help Aaron and I get the power and water operational again. “Third of all.” “I saw you three when I woke up after Red Day! You guys are the ones Johnny found the secret stash with!” “Bing-motherfucking-go. “So we got the job then?” . “Should I not volunteer?” “No. I need you to protect Lisa.” “Well.” you whisper back to him. both of whom look less than happy about being volunteered for physical labor.

” “I was fixin ta volunteer. For a moment. “That’s right. “it doesn’t look as though anyone else is going to volunteer. or on the same level.” you tell Jake and Lisa once your in the next-door classroom. “Howzat for equal treatment?” says a fat guy. and we’re not going to behave like it. Either way. Whether they are contemplating your words or just waiting for you to leave so that they can resume their hedonism. . at any moment she so desires.” “Do you think I could have gone about it better?” . and my rules aren’t hard to follow. you’re pretty sure that they hate you. . She has just about every right and privilege that he has. grabbing a handful of his own crotch and shaking it at his girl. They’re almost the same one you were following before any of this shit happened. come in here and send all of you down to the locker room to meet what would likely be a gruesome death. They probably resent you stirring up trouble among the guys and making their lives a little harder. sounding a bit too much like a teacher for your own sanity. but you doubt it. “but I had dis girls titty in my mouth!” He points to the girl beside him. . It just takes a bit more effort.” shouts Corey from the back of the room. And then ask yourselves if you want to be under Aaron. “A system based on respect for individuality and individuals always works better than the alternatives. you don’t know. This is surprisingly effective as a deterrent. Maybe the girls secretly like you.” you tell them.” you answer. and you’ll notice it’s not how Aaron lives. *** “I think I’m about as popular as shit on a stick.” you say.” says Jake. “especially not after all of the change they’ve already been subjected too. It’s not productive.” shouts the fat kid who was clutching his crotch earlier. His girlfriend has the power to. whose “titties” are nowhere near him and she cringes a little. “People don’t like change.” The room is silent for a great long while. Ask yourselves why. “I’m not afraid to get you sent down there if you fuck with me. once again inwardly disgusted by how much you sound like a genuine authority figure. “We’re not cavemen. as if the mere sound of his name might invoke him.” “Those rules don’t work in this world.” you say. no one even moves. “Someone must really want to visit Billy in the locker room.“Sure.

” “Aaron imposed rules upon them.” “I hope so. your index finger running up and down your smooth lower lip.” says Jake. I think their hostility . and rightly so.” you say. and every last one of them spent their entire civilized existence praying for a world like this. I think that everyone’ll come around. I’m gay.” you say. I’m not as optimistic. “They were raised in a world where these rules already existed. where there are no rules.” “Is it?” asks Jake.Jake just shrugs but Lisa offers this response: “Well. This isn’t exactly my ideal society either. I don’t have a choice. they’re free to do so.” you say. okay? I’m just saying that I don’t think anyone is going to let their minds over-ride their dicks. “You don’t know what it’s like to be a girl in a world like this!” “I don’t? In case you’ve forgotten. If they want to ram some scared girl in the but on stick a fist in her cunt. If you went about it more subtly. “Yes.” “What about their hearts and souls?” you say. “Me too.” “Why not?” you and Lisa ask in unison. But then you come along into this paradise of monkeys having orgiastic sex and tell them that you want them to lift up their knuckles and walk upright again . “They don’t have a choice. And I think it’s better to just tear the band-aid off and take the pain that comes with it. “Well. “It is!” shouts Lisa. I have to do this because it’s what’s right. Aaron has given them the one thing they’ve always wanted—sex whenever they please and however they please as long as they don’t do anything faggy like fuck one another. and probably very few of them harbor those sorts of thoughts in the first place.” You consider this for a great long while. . you’d just extend the duration of pain. what you’re trying to give them civilization. “Well. In fact. I don’t think they’ll take to it. I’m sure the only reason homosexuality is against Aaron’s law is that he knew they’d want it that way. . you’re doing what you feel ought to be done. But they had civilization. I think that not so deep down the way they are living and have been living since Red Day is causing them a lot of guilt. “but to be honest. but all of his rules exist to cement him in their minds as their fearless leader and none of them encroach upon their desires. Lisa.

“Because.” “I can think of a few things better than hope. I was actually more into psychedelic 60’s and 70’s music than anything out today. Quiet Riot. I’ll take ‘Come Together’ or ‘Happiness is a Warm Gun’ over that any day of the week. but I swear they were amazing in those moments when we all formed a moshpit and celebrated our damnation to the pounding rhythm and tangled guitar riffs of industrial metal or whatever the hell you want to call it. Tough one. drugs and rock ‘n’ roll. I’m not a fan of their earlier stuff. I never liked them much.” he says.” she answers. Adam?” . if I don’t think it. The last I heard any music was three days after red day when someone put on a Korn CD in a battery-powered stereo. his smile full-fledged now. “Sex. “but nothing’s as good as hope. I at least hope it. “Or. I listened to the powerhouse rockers: AC/DC. I guess.” “Hope’s as good as anything.” says Lisa. Eighties rock mostly.” you say. Metallica. My mom used to say that.” “What makes you think they’d sleep with them willingly?” he asks. What about you?” “I was always more of a hip-hop girl. Pink Floyd. but I like the Beatles too. “Jeez. so I guess I got a taste for it too. The Doors would probably be my favorite.towards me stems from my stimulation of that well of guilt inside of them. It was what my mom listened to. “How about you. “but I sure do miss rock. I think that they will cater to their consciences in the end. I’m no damn miracle worker.” “I hope that you can. “I’ll do all I can to help you if you think it can be done.” “I do.” you say. ‘I wanna hold your hand?’ Gimme a break. I’m just trying to minimize the damage done.” “What was your favorite band?” asks Lisa. post-acid of course. but when I did listen to rock.” “I do too. “Like what?” he asks.” Jake says. Rush. “Never had sex or done drugs. especially when they realize that most of them can get girls to sleep with them consensually.” he says. I can see as well as anyone that things have changed and we’re playing with a different set rules now. smiling a little bit now.

“My holy trinity would probably be Marilyn Manson, Tool and Nine Inch Nails.” “Black is a perfect last name for you,” observes Jake. “Well, I don’t know if it was so much the darkness that attracted me to their music. I think it was the cinematic effort and texture that their music possessed.” “I respect, or respected, Manson more as visual artist than a recording artist,” says Jake. “I saw a show of his a few years back. He was one fuck of a showman.” “I never got to see him,” you say. You did see Tool though, about a year prior to red day. You spent so long trying to find a decent seat that you actually wound up sitting in the very back row. You might as well have been watching a flea circus for all you could see. “Shame,” he says, “you missed a treat.” “I never really heard anything of his other than the Beautiful People, but I had sort of a crush on him from an interview of his I saw on MTV.” “Really?” says Jake, “I thought he was an ugly fucker.” “It wasn’t so much a physical thing, but, I don’t know. I found him sort of charming. In the same way I find Adam charming, actually.” You feel heat gather in your cheeks. ‘How cute, you’re blushing,’ says Vuru. “I miss my CD collection,” you say, moving away from subjects that cause your face to flush and your lips to curl upwards. “Yeah,” says Jake. “Me too,” says Lisa. “Actually,” says Jake, “I might still have most of mine, I just don’t have anything to play them on.” “Where would they be?” “In my backpack, which is in the library with everyone else—part of a barricade from . . . y’know, the war.” “I have a walkman too,” says Lisa, “but no batteries.”

“Well, when Aaron gets the power back on, we might just be able to listen to music again,” you say. “You know,” says Jake, “If we have rock, Aaron doesn’t really stand much of a chance against us. No one can beat rock ‘n’ roll.” DAY TWELVE: WETWORKS You arrive at the computer lab, along with Will, Bryan and The Bastard at an hour after daybreak. The two guards posted on both sides of the door nod for you to enter and you do. You expected to walk into the computer lab, but instead find yourself in Aaron’s massive mansion. “What . . . the . . . fuck?” says The Bastard. “Magic,” says Aaron from atop one of the two large, marble staircases leading up to the second floor. He walks down the stairs so gracefully that if you couldn’t see his feet you’d imagine that he was gliding. “Follow me.” You do as he says, but the three remaining members of the Texas four remain behind, mouths open in awe, eyes scanning the room trying to make sense of it. “Come on,” you tell them, signaling for them to hurry up. In a daze, they do. Aaron leads you and the Texas Three to a room containing an enormous mechanical contraption that doesn’t look as if it were engineered by anything with a sane mind. Its design surely went well beyond practical need and deeply into the realm of ominous aesthetics. It has pipes protruding from its every strange angle and a steady stream of steam billowing from a series of small hatches near its oddly pointed zenith, which is crowned with glowing green orb about the size of a basketball. “What is it?” you ask. “We call it The Aries. It’s based on an Atlantian schematic for a machine to desalinate ocean water, but we’ve modified the design significantly. What you are looking at with your uncomprehending little eyes is a machine that replicates water by extracting hydrogen and oxygen from the air itself. These pipes suck in air from outside, the superfluous particles of matter that make it through the initial filtration system are expelled from those valves up there in bursts of what you may have originally believed to be steam. The necessary hydrogen and oxygen molecules are then sequenced in the main chamber here and sent to out storage tanks via these four pipes over here. I cannot take you directly to the storage tanks so you will have to reroute one of these pipes directly into the schools pumping system. The red door to your left, coincidentally enough, leads to Myre High’s pump station

in the utility closet. I warn you, once you’ve opened the door, it cannot be closed again, or else it will disappear. All of the tools you will need can be found in the utility closet. I will shut the Aries off so that you can begin your work. I think this will be a process of trail and error, so there’s a good chance that you will be here for a long, long time. I’ll be by in seven hours. If you’re not done by then, you can resume tomorrow. Good luck.” And with that, he’s gone. “What the galdamn fuck is going on here?” exclaims The Bastard. “I mean, I knew somethin unnatural was happenin around here, but I never spected anything like this.” “This is just the first layer,” you tell them, “and the story, from beginning to end, is a long one, and a hard one to tell . . . a hard one to hear too.” “Well, I think we deserve to know!” shouts Bryan. “Yes. You do. After what you’ve seen, I can’t deny that you do. And you probably deserve to know what happened to Johnny too.” “You know what happened to Johhny?” asks The Bastard. “I do. It’s part of my story. The story that I’m about to tell you.” So you tell them the tale, every word rotting into the next and choking your throat like the dust and ash of the burnt down world. You tell them about your and Johnny’s quest to find the shimmering object in the distance. You tell them about the weed garden, the roaches and monolith; the wells of shit and the temple of Vuru Raha. You tell them of Johnny’s fate, and all of them shed at least one tear. You tell them about Adric and Lisa and Jake and Aaron and what each of them means. You don’t tell them about Vuru’s act of rape or her resulting pregnancy and psychic bond to you. You don’t tell them of the television visions that the Johnny with the shrunken black angel wings showed you or the mind-shattering sight that lay beyond the windows of this palatial plantation and you are glad that there are no windows around for them to glance out of. It would hardly make difference if there were; you are fairly certain that the room you are in now is below ground. Some of these things you withhold from them because you think Aaron may be listening or because you do not fully trust them. Others you do not tell them because you cannot bring yourself to tell them. “I can’t believe all that,” says The Bastard. “It’s too much.”

“I know,” you say, “I’m sorry.” “Fuck your sorry!” he yells. “It’s not his fault, Milo,” says Bryan. Milo, you suppose, is The Bastard’s Christian name. He doesn’t look like a Milo. He looks too big to be a Milo. “I know it, god damn it!” he shouts, red-faced and weeping. He falls to his knees. His legs can’t hold his weight any longer. “But I didn’t wanna know! I didn’t want to know all them things. They’re just too much!” Snot and saliva bubble around his mouth and face and he regressed to infantile wails and incoherent attempts at speech. He looks so pathetic that you can’t help but hate him. Still, something inside of you want to hold him and tell him everything will be alright, which his friend Bryan is doing while Will stands and watches it all like it was nothing more than a sad movie. It’s fifteen minutes before Milo The Bastard calms down and gets it together again. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I didn’t mean to lose it like that.” “It happens,” you tell him. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” says Bryan. Will opens his mouth as if to say something, but closes it up again without uttering so much as a single syllable. “You don’t talk, do you?” you ask him. “Will?” asks The Bastard. “He ain’t said a damn word since, well, you know when.” “I call it Red Day,” you say. “That’s as good a name as any.” “We should get to work,” you say. “Ha-ha. Yeah. Anyone know the first damn thing bout plumbin?” “Nope,” answers Bryan. “Not me,” you say. Will nods his head.

By then time Aaron peaks his grinning face into the room. It’s a start. That’s the way it is. You just about gave me a fucking heart attack when you said that shit in front of those over-grown motherfuckers. “All right. Aaron finds me amusing. But they aren’t going to take the same shit off me that they will off you. . the four of you have accomplished essentially nothing.” says Aaron as he shuts the computer lab/plantation door behind you. but you somehow feel like your getting the hang of it. He communicates all this to you and Bryan and The bastard through a series of amazingly successful hand gestures.” *** Will does know about plumbing.” he says. girls. ya mean?” he asks sardonically. “You’ve got to be more careful about that. You can do all the work then. not one galdamn lil bit. Point.” “I hate that.” “I’m sorry.” “So this is a do as I say not as I do sorta thing?” “It is precisely that sort of thing. he’s just find you guys annoying. He knows what wrench to use for what bolts and what most of the valves do and how water pressure works.” “He’s right. A little. “Careful like you. he just looks down and pretends to regret his words.” says Bryan. You see looks of horror on the two guard’s faces and quickly slap The Bastard on the back of his head and say. “I hate that son of a bitch. The guards unconsciously nod their approval and you and the Texas Three walk away down the hallway. Milo The Bastard looks outraged. “Same time tomorrow. “I’ll be galdamned. Milo.” says The Bastard.” you say. “Watch your damn mouth!” At first.“You do?” asks The Bastard. “I don’t like it. Heh-heh. but when he realizes the presence of the two sentries.

’ ‘Please. looking at you with curiosity and sympathy. It’s the fat kid who was shaking his crotch at girls the day before.” *** You’re laying down flat on the floor. Lisa is sitting backwards in an old school chair at your feet.’ You don’t say anything or think anything back to her. looking at the ceiling.’ she says. pushing through the throng.’ you plead. Vuru.’ ‘In my own strange way Vuru.“Alright! Damn! It’s in the galdamn past. ‘I’d say that as far as your life goes. No need for anyone to answer. Kyle’s. plaster ceiling. . “Who?” you yell. snapping out of an odd breed of hypnosis. huh? Geez-uz-fuckinChrist.” By the time this conversation is over. Jake is kneeled over him trying to do CPR but suddenly he stops.’ says Vuru. but you have to. At first this chaos seems completely usual. ‘In my own. Jake is sitting cross-legged to your left. but it only takes you a minute to see that this is the chaos of panic. so let’s just drop it already. strange way. man!” shouts Corey. angst.’ “Adam?” says Jake. You open the door to— surprise—total chaos. “He started having a seizure or sumpin. You feel gushing waves of pain pounding on the shores of your eyes. lack of faith in one’s species. begging to be let out and it makes you sick to hold them back. “He’s dead.” you say to the small cracks in the smooth. speaking as only one entity. things are as normal as they ever were. not now. ‘Turmoil. self-doubt and self-loathing. you can see for yourself. “I wonder is life will life ever be normal again. rather than jubilation. We were wondering when you’d get that through your skull. I love you. you’re back at Mrs. I think I love you too. thinking about the dead boy.” you say. looks up at you and says. “What’s going on?” you yell. “Yeah. ‘I’m sorry Adam. ‘So you finally figured out that you don’t have to talk aloud for us to hear you. Adam.

Milo The Bastard is chatting incessantly in the thick country accent that you’ve noticed he slips in and out of. giant robots shoving sticks of dynamite up the asses of what were either terrible ugly children of circus midgets. . Of course. He looks unconvinced so you answer. . Everything goes strangely.” he said.“I asked how it went today. McQueen—the only adult who sided with Aaron over Alva—but you’ve yet to lay eyes on him and aren’t . Such a mind surely has no right to exist. yet they make you smile with wonder. you thought. . walking alongside the Texas Three. insects eating angels and angels fucking deformed. stems with demonic heads where flowers ought to be. “It went . all old people like that saying. You passed out from the blood loss but survived the night and bandaged yourself up the next morning. now you wish you’d woken her up. You dragged the razorblade across your wrists. You are in the hallway. If only it were that easy. there are no old people left anymore. but it plays over and over again in your head like a perverse segment of a scratched CD. Lisa was asleep when you left to work on the pipes . and depart. Except for Mr. You just lie there.” someone told you when you asked. pretending the cracks are cracks within your heart and that the water spots are warped pieces of your damaged mind. strangely. In and out. You didn’t want to know. DAY THIRTEEN: IT’S STRANGE HOW SHAPES GET RAPED OVER TIME The fat kid’s body is gone in the morning. “I must have been zoning out. But then. You wore long sleeve shirts for the next few weeks. You were just about a month past your fifteenth birthday and all alone in your room. “They collected it. you think.” you offer. studying the stucco ceiling and seeing images in its complicated and completely haphazard texture: Clowns with rotten toothed smiles. You did not ask who ‘they’ were. burning cities. That’s another grandfather saying. . You don’t know what this means. It’s strange how shapes get raped over time. but did it the wrong way and missed the critical artery. You see these things and you hate them. foreign letters. request. hairless blob-like masses of almost-humans. you thought. nodding worried faces. beg plead. “Please?” The both give you silent affirmations. The first time you attempted suicide was about two years ago. Hindsight’s 20/20. This was no exception. “Could you two leave me alone for a little bit?” you ask. No one noticed. If only this ceiling were Stucco. looking at the ceiling in the waning sunlight. This stucco ceiling is a portrait of my mind.

” you say. Only men who have regrets are fond of that saying. In my book. he probably wasn’t fond of the saying.” “Besides.” “Well.” says Bryan. other things. he’s your enemy.” “Aaron is as responsible for this worlds death as Alva.” says Bryan. “and I want to know what it is. Alva was the real prick. not mine.” says The Bastard. there’s no way to find out.” says Bryan with more than just a little bit of relief in his voice. Even if McQueen was an old man.” “We’ve still got to get the electric working too. Will?” Will looks at The Bastard and shrugs and makes a face that says something along the lines of.” “Well. You reckon we’ll getter done today. “Sorry. The Bastard and Will follow you. Things I didn’t tell you guys. and only men who have a conscience are capable of true regret. “Well. . The bigger and stupider of the two says.” “Well.” “But—?” “Sorry. Aaron’s instructed us not to let no one by. “Something’s going on. Aaron’s been a pretty good leader so far. “No one gets by. . And there are . You know what. so we’re being governed by the lesser of two evils. “I hope so.” you say.” you say. but realize this action’s complete futility and follow him instead.” he says. whatever. what business is it of ours anyway. “I hope we finish this shit today. “so just let it go and let’s go catch us some more fuckin sleep. “From what you told us.sure of his age.” The guards halt your party at the door. alright?” says The Bastard. that puts us in the alright. . “Adam?” says a voice you’ve never heard before.” Bryan says. fuck it. “maybe you can forgive that. but I can’t. You turn to stop him. “Me fuckin too. “Let’s not think about that shit today. here we are.

“The utility closet! We left the red door open!” “Will!” shouts The Bastard. . but he eventually turns and follows The Bastard. “Well. I’m going. whose name. Bryan stands there for a moment like parasite torn between two hosts. be my guest. is rather suitable.” shouts Bryan. it’s great to hear your voice again!” Will just looks at him and smiles sheepishly.” you say. spinning around and stomping away.” says Bryan. . The Bastard turns around and sees the same sight. “You can’t be serious. There’s another way in. “Count me out.” you tell Will. “Come on.” “Oh my God. shaking from some powerful emotion. Go with them. but otherwise not moving an inch. as if he’s done something horribly wrong. He looks down. “Sorry man. you’re right!” you exclaim. Will. “Oh.” you say. but Will just stands by your side. “Will!” he shouts. “It’s okay. Jesus.” Will just stares back at him. shit. But he doesn’t seem to hear you. “I’m not worth getting yourself killed for. “I . “You spoke! Holy shit. quiet and blushing with defiance. If you wanna kill yourself. his country accent gone completely.Bryan and The Bastard stop dead in their tracks. . “Will?” you say. They turn their backs and walk away.” says The Bastard. but you’re on your own. Will. Milo understands at once that Will isn’t planning on making speaking a regular part of his communicative repertoire again just yet. “Well.” says The Bastard. you have discovered.” says Bryan.

It's how we close it back up. but . You got all that?" “—It’s okay. From there you take a right and go through a door into a laundry room. . . . It’s under a loose board under the .” “ . . up against the wall!” “Alright. practically jumping down his throat. . uhhhh . you'll see a tiled ceiling. RIGHT! . when you go into the back door. . you’re guarding the door from thieves. the big rug . when you climb up. “I know where the keys are. .” you say. You can see his lips moving frantically as if he’s whispering incantations to ward of (or summon) evil spirits. uh.” *** The door is the dark green of meconium and the words UTILITY CLOSET are embossed upon it in shiny black militaristic lettering. . he forces out the words.” you say. ugh .” “No. shit . . well. I’ll go. took them . . . If you look up. “I’m not doing it for you. .” you tell him. One of the tiles is a little discolored.” “C-corner of the . . off of Alva. it’s. yeah. . . um.” He opens his mouth and chokes out a dry sound.” “Where are they now?” you ask. someone’ll hear us. argh! . . . I should . should . If you press it you’ll open the big panel so stand clear and it'll fall out. they’re. you’ll be in the kitchen. .His eyes answer back. . Oh. . You stay here. the right corner of the rug.” . . Finally. From there you just unfold the ladder and climb on up. “I just need to know where the keys are exactly. . thieves. We could get in huge trouble if they saw us. it’s against the wall in the corner. I know how to get in. “It’s locked. “I . . there is a piece of string tide to the bottom rung of the ladder. they’re . that’s it . . . . . forbidden. . . “It’s in the attic of the third house on the right. . “If we try and knock it down. . . . go alone. Thieves?” “Yeah. . bring it with you. If anyone asks you. Then he clenches his eyes shut and his face goes red. “But—!” "Okay.

” *** You pull down the ladder behind the discolored ceiling tile in the laundry room and climb up. a pried-open chest full of photos. and I know how you hate that and I would to in your position. Then. The corner frayed and bent up against the dust wall. I guess. though capable of coming to terms with the most hideous of exterior circumstances.” . You hear a creaking nose and a steady jingle and jump to your feet with a 180 degree spin and a small. it’s kind of funny. . wearing his patented deviant grin and looking right at you with eyes as big and black as sunglass lenses. but I have to and believe me when I say that this one is important. The figure of Johnny is sitting in the rocking chair.” You look at him carefully. “Looking for these?” he asks you. . You pull it up and towards you and reach underneath it for the keys—nothing. “You know. Oh. and you make a few mental notes of things around you—a rocking chair. Actually. “Actually. an old mannequin—before setting off to the upper right hand corner of the huge throw rug. “I’m listening.” “What’s the matter?” he asks.“ . Everything in the attic looks ransacked.” you say. I guess not. You don’t bother pulling the ladder back up afterwards because you don’t plan on being up here long enough for anyone to come looking for you. covered in beer or piss stains. the human mind. okay . is completely helpless in coming to terms with its own existence.” he says. at the rate you talk. “you don’t trust me?” “Do I have any reason to?” “No. tight gasp. Do you know why that is?” “No. “what are you doing here!” “I just stopped by for a little chat. then pauses for a moment before adding. I just stopped by to make a speech. “Shit!” you say. .” “I’ll be back before you can say Captain Cocksucker. after a split second worth of consideration you add. jingling the keys in his hands. “Johnny!” you shout. but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me. that might be true.

when in fact it is an orgy. When human kind bit into the Apple of knowledge. If you fail or make the wrong choice . This is why we eat when we aren’t hungry and starve ourselves when we are. Good luck. In nature. conflict is just part of an equilibrium. We greedily devour love and hate and lust and trust and sadness and madness in equal overdoses and call it a balance. Human life subsequent to that secession has been defined not by harmony.” “Thank you.” “I’m not sure I understood everything you said. . why we trust those that we know to be deceitful and pity the delusion of those that love us. “Whether this will be a world of man’s law. but I’m glad you strung my loose thoughts together. “You see. .” you say.” A tear of blood runs down Johnny’s pale face. not you. and you are the one that must make the final decision. If he does not. Vuru and her legions are all that’s left of the old system. not even Vuru. “Yes. . his divinity is restored and he will once again be a part of nature. . it will be a great long while before you feel happiness again. “I thought I should be the one to tell you all of this. but to us. it is the measure of all things. they effectively seceded from nature and therefore broke away from that harmony.” “What decision?” you ask. taking man’s principle virtues of conflict and excess to new extremes. but discord. why we fuck when we aren’t horny and abstain when we are. Vuru is helpless against Aaron’s power.” “Well. God has run away and now man in law. or of nature’s. impossible—choices lay before you. Even under the best of circumstances.” *** “Y-you got em?” . and most of it I already knew. I’ve got to get back. “Everything in nature is based upon a system of harmony.” he says.Johnny lends you a solemn nod and says. “A road of difficult—no . I know. but why are you helping me? Why is Vuru?” “I am helping you because you are my friend and she is helping you because Aaron is her enemy. none of us has a future. As long as man is apart from nature. Here are the keys. “But nature is dead on this planet. Not me. then Aaron’s new evolutionary beasts will walk the earth —a higher form of man. if man returns to the garden that Vuru has created.

” Through a process of trial and error that seems lopsidedly error. and say to yourself. still not talking to him. You run into the room. terrible and familiar door.“Yeah. “Don’t look out the window.” you say. . “I know this door. but you can feel his head turning to look outside and you shout for him to stop but it’s too late. showing Will the key ring. ducked down like a Hollywood spy movie star. I don’t know which of these fits. not in your chest but in your neck like an Adam’s Apple of discord.” he says. You stop dead in your tracks in front of a big rust-colored door with a few flakes of what was once a mint-green coat paint scattered here and there. Stay a step behind me at all times.” “What?” Will asks. “I know this door. and chances are we’ll be caught anyway. but it feels more like the rest of the world is shaking. “We have to be extremely fucking careful or we’ll be caught. glowing orb overlooking the two of you like the uncaring eye of some seismic Lovecraftian beast. . You feel yourself start to shake. You see a window coming up on your left and shout. and you cannot see. The door to the Aries is still propped wide open with a small crate and an odd green light blurs into the utility closet like smudged pastel as strikingly as it did yesterday. driven inexplicably farther down the hall and away from the big. Then.” “What?” asks Will.” you say again. signaling Will to follow then stopping him abruptly in the middle of the room with the machines great.” “T-t-twenty . Your heart begins to pound. “Shit!” you say and you start running again. you find the right key and the closet creaks open like a rusty robot’s pussy and the two of you dart inside and shut it fast behind you. minutes ago would have b-been the time.” you say. “We’re in.” The hallways are as silent as a muted TV and as empty as the heads of those watching it. You begin to run aimlessly in one direction. If you want to turn back. when Will lets out a small yelp. “Okay. “This might take a while though. you realize the rest of the world is shaking. now’s the time. His legs give out from under him but he catches himself on the windowsill and gazes out .

but if you had to take a guess you would say that they are harvesting the fires of hell from the black crust of some version of earth even more perverted than the one you and Johnny had ventured on your journey to the Temple of Vuru Raha. .” “No. “W-w-what is . they’re the ones that died on Red Day. Knowing what you will see in no way prepares you to see it again and the shock is just as powerful as it had been the first time around.” you say from an eternity away.” He doesn’t say a word.” “I can’t be sure. Aaron. aren’t they. . You feel a sudden rush of heat surround and overwhelm you. “not to look.” “I wish I’d never seen this. “It’s the world. “but I think so.” he rasps. “I told you.” says a voice that you know all to well. but with what?” Will finally looks away from the window and sets his gaze directly upon you and you can see the bile in his violently shaking eyes. not making a sound and you turn to the window yourself and look out upon the hellscape. “With hate. . Years later—but only seconds in real time you suppose—you are lying there crumpled at Aaron’s feet and everything is a blur. what is it?” he asks.upon the world outside.” you say. “but part of me is glad because it fills a part of me that’s always been so empty. “I never should have brought you here. you see buildings— skyscrapers—that dwarf most mountains in width as well as height—a city of the damned where only the dead call home.” you say. “Aaron’s world. . You don’t know what they’re doing or why they’re doing it.” he said without a hint of stutter or stumble. “You shouldn’t have. “Hate.” There is a long silence between the two of you.” “Yes. short-circuiting all your senses and filling every neuron bound for your brain with messages of immense physical agony. . never turning around.” It is vast and black with rows of glowing red and corpses walking like puppets with invisible strings tend to it.” “Hello. You walk gently over to him. finally broken by you saying.” you say. “Those people . Deep in the background.

DAY FOURTEEN: DREAM-LAND “O. framing the cunt nicely and the all-knowing-eye blinks in contemplation. The advice is so Walt Disney that it makes you sprout mouse ears.” says the cunt. “What’s important is that we do them to ourselves.” Fade to black.” sing the choir of naked goblin children. “why am I here? Have I failed the world and have I failed myself ?” Two columns of fire blast forth from the pointless void. waving their tiny colorless flags in the fluid air. The only thing you can think to say as the consciousness drains from you like bloody bathwater.” says the cunt. giant flaming cunt of darkness.” he says through a series of whiney amplifiers and scratchy recorders with warped tapes into an echoing cavern somewhere between earth and the moon.” screams the pointless void.” you plead. There is something sexually arousing about them. “I’m home. “Are you sure?” you say. you know. spiraling into the oblivion of a drain and into and endless maze of pipes is.” he says.” you tell him. and don’t let our personal battles spill out into the lives of those we love. “You are not a failure and you never can be so long as you believe in yourself. I see you have come here to us at last.” “We all do those things. “Oh. but your little friend here is going straight to hell. “I am not is a pleasant fucking mood. unless we are ready to share those things with .“You two couldn’t have picked a worse day to pull this stunt. I’ve killed and raped and maimed for the sheer enjoyment of the act. “You can get away with this somewhat in tact because I like you.” You hear a loud crunch and a moment later you’re fairly certain that it was the sound of your ribs shattering under his foot. but you do not dwell on this matter because they disappear as suddenly as they manifested and you’re left to once again stare into the massive all-knowing eye that is the clitoris of what the natives of this strange dimension of dementia call the giant flaming cunt of darkness. “I’ve done terrible things. “That’s right. “I saw the door.

You’re naked and sitting down and there is sand in your ass crack but it doesn’t really feel so strange or uncomfortable or even foreign. much larger than before.them and they are ready to receive them.” says the cunt. your sand. Maybe she didn’t want to for some reason. Maybe just because I didn’t ask.” .” “Why didn’t Vuru help us out in Aaron’s plantation?” “No clue. “How goes the stitch work?” you ask.” without much enthusiasm.” “Insanity’ll do that to ya.” you say. “Answers?” “Questions. either implicitly or explicitly? Isn’t it better to wonder? Isn’t it better to be able to surprise your friends and yourself ?” You pause to think about it and reply.” “No. “not completely. It is. Maybe she couldn’t.” “What was going on in Aaron’s plantation? Why was it shaking?” “No clue. “You’ve come a long way since last we spoke. “Then there you have it. “but no one can ever know me.” “Maybe.” answers the giant flaming cunt of darkness. “find out anything that us boys up on the surface haven’t yet?” “You’ve certainly become more cooperative.” “But what if I don’t love anyone? What if I’m only capable of hate? Or worse. . BLAM! You’re on the beach again and your Tiki God is standing in front of you.” “Great. Sounded . after all.” you say. . “This isn’t progressive. “I guess so.” said the Tiki God. mechanical. what if I’m not capable of anything at all?” “You are. But why is that a tragedy? Do you really desire to be understood fully.” you concede.

.“It might be. lest I have to crush every bone in your body. The screen flickers to life and you see a door the color of rust with remnant of mint green paint flaked near the handle and near the top. “Part of you does. “I believe you had an answer for me. And she pulls you into the small room and closes the door.” “What happened inside the room?” you ask. “You tried to cut it out.” he said.” says the small boy sitting next to you. “I don’t remember that. the boy from the movie—the younger version of you.” she says in a language that isn’t English. but I have one more question. “Alright. A younger version of yourself.” You consider this for a moment. You can see the shadow of rustling leaves waving back and forth creating amazingly intricate patterns on the surface of the rusty door. “but the most you could do was bury it. maybe six or seven years old walks into frame wearing blue shorts and a smile.” you say. It in a brick wall on the side of a building somewhere on some sunny day. In that moment. of course. It is. “Make not a single sound. Her head is bald and so is the spot betwixt her legs.” says the Tiki God.” you say.” “Shoot. where have I seen it before.” he says. “The door. but that you understand inherently. “I need to hear the question.” “Do you trust Jake?” “Yes.” “First. She examines you for a moment with eyes that could melt butter and your scream and start to run but she grabs you by your neck with the speed of a falcon diving down to snatch up its prey. small human boy.” BLAM! You’re in a movie theater with a large tub of golden popcorn and a huge drink. “I do have one answer for you. the door is God’s canvass.” he said. The door opens suddenly and a naked woman walks out like an alien stepping out of it’s spacecraft.

” “I told you.” he says mournfully. . . “Were is she?” you ask. . but we may not have a choice.” “But it’s in the past. . . this one of agony and say through gritted teeth. “Right beside you. .” The boy puts his hand on your own and says.” “Looking at her .” “I.” you say. “It’s the incident you’ve spent your whole life running from. “Dwelling on it now won’t do me any good. those eyes .” “Will?” “Why don’t you go back to sleep. responding to Jake’s inquiry as to whether or not you were awake.” the little you answers. . I feel sick . it’s Monday night. you’ll never really be able to live your life. You grunt to conceal a second scream. “unless you hand me the shovel. “is that it never stays there. . “Should I wake Lisa?” he whispers.” says the little you.” *** “I’ve never been so awake in my fucking life.” “No. . Let her sleep. How long have I been out?” “Well. where is Will?” “They took him to the locker room. and afraid.” And you rise up from your place of slumber like a phoenix rising from the ash and in that moment you can see in their eyes that you have been reborn.” you say. I’m more awake than I could ever want to be. “FUCK!” you scream. clutching your broken ribs. causing your ribs to explode and Lisa to awake with a start. It might even be early Tuesday morning. “Neither do I.” “Don’t want to?” answers the little you.“That’s buried to deep for even me to dig up. I don’t fucking think so. and unless you deal with it. .” “The funny thing about the past. “No.

others hang open showcasing insides to dark to reveal a thing to any observer unwilling to stick his hand into them to feel what they might contain. “Yep. but you can make out the first few rows of red lockers.” you say to Billy.’ so lo and behold.“Where are you going?” Lisa pleads. ‘This’ne’s got to last me a while.” says a gentle voice. “Yeah.” DAY FIFTEEN: BILLY and ADAM’S CHOICE The locker room door swings open before you can touch it and the salty smell of sweat and other human odors hits you like a hellbound bullet train. just a cunt hair past a day the lil sunuvabitch is deader than the tiny black heart beatin off in my chest. ADAM!’ shouts Vuru like a choir of falling pots and pans. nearly inducing a spell of vomiting. He takes a long drag of his cancer-stick and says is his rapturously calming voice. I ain’t had no fresh meat in a good long while now —least four or five days. friend. aincha.” You feel yourself walking towards him and you don’t have the will to stop yourself.” “Oh. which makes sense in a strange way because you can feel yourself getting sucked in. some are caked in unidentifiable substances. that’s right. Step on ova here and let me take a good look atcha. The A-man told me you might come by. I says to myself when I seen him. It’s almost as if he is talking as he slowly inhales the air around him. “Cut that out. “The stench alone does it to most folk. “I know what you’re doing.” His voice is quiet and possesses a relaxing quality like the voice of a mother singing to her baby or the sound of a breeze rustling through a tree full of crisp autumn leaves. The benches are splattered in what must be blood and the showers are piled high with dead. I’m a bit ashamed to admit it.’ I said. dumplin?” he says. others are bashed in. but I get a wee bit carried away every now and again. pooh. You look up and see nothing but the tip of a cigarette glowing in the pool of blackness. It’s hard to see through your teary eyes in the dark room. you gonna spoil my fun? Naw. “To save my friend. On the top of the pile lay Will. well. ‘STOP. But I ain’t one for what you call ‘will power. but you gotta unnerstand. you just playin hard to get. Ha-ha. ya see—and. deader than the Earth itself. wanting to trust him despite everything around you. mixing country and homosexual accents seamlessly with a voice now so soft that it . and I didn’t mean to kill your buddy there just yet. There was no stopping the vomiting now.” he says. “But I see you needed that lil extra push.

Is this the part where I tell you just how I’m gonna kill ya and spout a whole mess of crazy supervillain pseudo-philosophical mumbo-jumbo? Well. that sounds kinda fun.” And the cigarette rises up into the airs and then flies off to the side.” you say. then I guess will just have to have ourselves an old fashion slobberknocker. the freshest amongst them and the least accountable for the stench that fills your nostrils. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a persistent sunuvabitch? Like a turd that just clings to yer ass no matter how ya shake around and feel like a damned fool?” “You’re the only turd here. flailing fists as big as God’s nuts and you don’t even have time to move before he is upon you. fucker!’ You push him off of you and get back up to your feet.” he says gruffly. “They told me you were a pain in the fucking ass and that really burns me because being a pain in people’s asses in my job. So I’ll tell you what. my fuckin job and I don’t take kindly to no needle dick panty stain like yourself movin in on my territory. why not. I don’t take kindly to no competition. fucking tease. “Oh yeah. great comeback. “Oh. there’s a rhino charging towards you. falls into your lap and you can see his empty eyes staring at the ceiling and his mouth hanging open as if to say. Will.sounds like you shouldn’t be able to hear it at all. . You notice how all of ems got assholes as wide as Texas? That’s my doin boy. The room moves around you at light speed in slow motion stop-animation and you find yourself lying on the side of a pile of the dead. and decked out in cowboy regalia. ‘Avenge me. He’s at least two feet taller than you and probably two feet wider as well. I challenge you to a butt-fuckin contest?” “What the fuck are you talking about?” “Zat a no? Okay. “I said stop. it huge rim casting a dark shadow over his eyes. “You see them corpses over there. And boy. You can hear hell’s bells when his fist smashes into your face like a Mac-truck tearing into the side of some piece of shit 1991 Ford tempo like the one your cousin was in when he was killed a few years back.” you say. Spiderman. That’s my work. including a big black ten-gallon hat. The next thing you know.

. He does what he does unner the guise of an agenda cause fer some reason he can’t just wake up and admit to himself flat out. Aaron is a fairly decent bad guy. grabbing your throat with one fat. well. right?” “Shut the fuck up. “No. but the problem with him is that he believes in something. I—. No sir. “Well. just know that I’m only doin it for the pure joy of it and not cause I think it makes me no better’n you or that I’m doin it cause I think the devil wants me to or to collect souls or none of that wacky fucking rat shit. ya see. I’m pure fucking maniacal evil and I don’t give three licks of a lepers ass about tryin to justify my actions.” “Are we done talking now?” Well. ‘hey. you gotta banter? Don’t you watch cartoons? Jay-sis fucking amateur Christ.” you say.” You punch him in the face before he can complete his sentence. stupid. and babble about how we could rule the universe together an all that crap. but I can see in your little can’t-kill-me eyes that you ain’t gonna bite that worm. oh yeah. sweat hand. it defeats the goddamn fun in being the fucking villain. We ain’t done banterin yet.’ My attitude is let the good guys have their agendas and principles and all that crap. You wanna be a hero. I’m gonna tie you down to my favorite bench over there in my lil nook and shove my two footer right down your lil virgin boycunt till you scream my fuckin name. where was I. and play with her lil pussy. .” “Yeah. but I’ll wait for Criss ta come down ‘fore I do that. Fuck all that justification crap. barely even shifting the position of his head. I don’t believe in jack shit ‘cept pleasin my own damn self and letting someone else count the casualties. cause for us rotten fuckers to have em. but I don’t.” he tells you.“After I defeat you. that’s pretty easy. “Now. which is to say that he considers me a failure.” . no no. “Deep shit. She likes to watch me work. I’m Aaron’s first attempt at the Ubermench . evil motherfucker. but what the fuck’s he gonna do about it. See. “Shit. I don’t think Aaron likes it too much. I like me just the way I am. this is where I ask ya to come over to my side. so I guess that all that’s left if fer me to espouse my fucked up worldview and lay down my philosophical guidelines. I’m one sick. and yer wonderin why. don’t it? “So when I’m tearin yer ass up with my big ol Billy Jr. Did I forget to mention to ya that I ain’t exactly what you would call human? Yep.

“I’ve got a better idea.” you say. “My fucking hat! What kind of asshole knocks off a fellas fucking hat. fucker. would you?” The figure on the floor begins to chortle and says. Your gasps for air agitate your broken ribs which were. The Bastard with a pipe and Bryan is using a baseball bat. you rise to your feet and say. As you lie there with a twisted ankle and three broken ribs. all of them are smashing him with their respective weapons: the girl. I dare ya. “Wait. don’t —.” The door swings and four figures charge in like kamikaze pilots—expecting to meet death.” .” It takes a moment. I cannot die. quickly donning his soft voice again he says.” “I bet that’s not true. It seems like the attack goes on forever. that’d probably about do it.” he says. —‘NO!’— You feel your hand shoot out and knock off his hat and he drops you. The mixture of pain and suffocation is steadily poking holes in your brain. Well.He says this as he chokes the life from you. to loosen his grip.” “No. “I cannot die.” you tell him. but the giant form on the floor never stops moving. Both of you hands are wrapped around his own. But I’ll need something big and sharp. but he had lifted you up off the ground and falling back down to the hard floor on your unprepared legs was as much agony as relief. Finally. “What the fuck?” says Billy. You hadn’t even realized it. of course. but your friends comply. “no matter what you do to me. “Yeah. and you can feel consciousness leaking out. end my wicked life. “What if we were to light you on fire. all ready inflamed. You wouldn’t survive that. sucking in as much oxygen as you can he is screaming. “And you thought I was persistent. all of them wielding blunt instruments. Then. “Stop. Jake is hitting him with a hockey stick. with futility.” you say to the bleeding mass of meat on the floor. go ahead then. trying.” --WHACK! And before another word can be spoken. Smite me. whom you think you recognize as your sweet love Lisa is bashing him repeatedly with what looks to be a fold-out metal chair.

Adam. “Let’s kill this fat piece of shit and get out of here. we can’t leave him here.” she says indignantly. grabbing the pipe from The Bastard’s hand.” says Lisa.” you say. but what happened in there had to happen. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen her angry and you back off almost out of pure shock.” “We know. raising the pipe above you head. “The Good guy wins. “No! Dammit! This isn’t how it’s supposed to be!” “Yes it is.” you say. at any rate.“What’ve you got in mind. “At least we got here in time to save you. sounding concerned.” you tell them. “Let’s just go. I was too late.” says Bryan. “I can’t breathe in here. You don’t hear her. . He could still be dangerous.” says Jake. “Watch me. . “It’s dangerous. getting ready to strike a blow.” “We figured. “You all have to know that.” you say. your lover at your heels and your posse not far behind. and Lisa places herself by your side. Then.” you say. I feel sick to my stomach. “It had to be done. to Milo and Bryan. It has no effect on you at all this time. no. “Well . “You can’t kill me. .” “You’re the one who charged in her all rashly without so much as an inkling of a strategy and I just saved your ass. *** You walk out of the blackness of the locker room feeling more like a monster than a man who just killed one.” says Billy in his lullaby of a voice. Adam?” asks Jake.” you answer.” whispers the Bastard.” says Lisa. Don’t you watch cartoons?” “Adam. “Will’s dead.” “You shouldn’t have come in the first place.

” says The Bastard.” Lisa whispers into your ear.” You halt in your tracks and Lisa jerks to a stop with you. When he comes down on it. “He sided with Aaron in the conflict. “Milo . he comes down on me alone. you turn up and tell me things that give me the will to fight again.” shouts Jake. Will was the only one of you to show anything even resembling courage and he’s dead because of it. . and now you’re going to give up.” “That’s right. your father is Mr. fuck you.“Aaron’s not going to like this. Jake. even though I fought with Alva. a few days later. . and the different paths were innumerable. “Because you’re the only one fighting back. Softly. looking right into his eyes. You push her gently away from you and turn to him. when we’ve just won our first victory?” All that exists in this moment is you and Jake and the fire that unites your eyes. And that’s pretty fucked up considering just what—and who —I’m fighting for. I was at war. “Gather everyone you can on Aaron’s order. when I go. I am. . Alone. and I would welcome my own death.” “No. But god damn it.” . I’ve got a story for them. .” “The cafeteria. Adam. I want to take that son of a bitch with me.” Milo nods. we all lived in a world where we were untouchable and our lives were stretched out in front of us.” “Your what?” you ask.” “No. so fuck courage and truth and fuck being the hero. “Two weeks ago—wrap your mind around that—fourteen fucking days ago. Just a little over a week. you say.” you say. “What could you possibly need me for?” He stands there not saying a word and then says. Red Day stole those paths from us. Me. my father. Bring them to the Cafeteria. . and then. and now there is only one road and I’ve walked it for two weeks and lived a lifetime per minute . “No shit. “we need you. “But . . and my side lost and we watched as they burned our dead in a pile and sent out living into the lair of that fucking demon Billy. “His last name is McQueen. “that’s why none of you were involved. I fought in the war against Aaron just over a fucking week ago. McQueen.” says The Bastard.

but I . They tried to get me to take his side too. There are five figures. you and Lisa. in that case. . McQueen. “For my brother. To the left of him sits Crissi Drake. who’s looking at his son with absolutely nothing in his eyes.” *** ‘I picked you because you were so daring. I ain’t never cared for neither of those fuckers. To the right of Aaron sits Jake Carter with a gun in his hand.” says Lisa. pointed at the boy sitting on the floor just in front of him with a look of stony contempt in his still. is Bryan. It’s almost as dark inside as the locker room but you can make out three chairs at the center of the large room. Mr.” you say.well. the lights flicker to life and you after the initial shock and adjustment.” says Aaron. “You can and you will. The fifth figure is Milo’s father. come with my to the Cafeteria. as you well know. looking endlessly proud of himself. “Thanks. I admit. more beautiful than the eyes of God and more sinister than the devil’s grin.” you say.” “I can’t go. “No. and in these three chairs sit three figures. I never liked them anyhow.” “Well. “Bryan. who sounds as if the air has been let out of her world. “but you stuck to the script just fine. In the center chair sits Aaron. Then.” He hands it to you. miraculously.’ says Vuru as you stroll into the cafeteria with Lisa on one side and The Bastard on the other. “Well. there were a few times that I was worried. Bryan and Jake will have to gather up as many people there as possible so that they can hear the truth. addressing you and you alone. “When he sided with Aaron. you realize you were mistaken.” says Milo.“Why would he side with Aaron?” you ask. and whenever you showed signs of . “Let’s do this. . “Oh my god. Dad did too.” says Milo. blue eyes whose name. hand me that bat.

’ “Sorry.” you say. Bryan is running after Milo. ‘How am I going to get out of this?’ ‘Just watch. .” ‘Don’t worry. “It is.” says Aaron. my friend.’ said Vuru. but it looks like it’s just your night to die. It has just begun. You can’t take your eyes of Aaron minus Aaron’s head or Crissi. “he sure had me fooled. I’ve got a gun to this particular puppets head. Vuru. Lisa is hugging Jake and Jake is looking as weary as a dog near death. ‘It’s over. If there were still a Hollywood. who is covered in his blood and looking like an apathetic Jackie Kennedy. who just left the room in pursuit of his father.deviation.” shouts Lisa.’ says Vuru. turning the gun on Aaron. who is waving a pipe above his head. “It is not over.” The weapon fires silently and Crissi is suddenly painted dark red with the contents of her boyfriend’s head. “Jake. The blood suddenly dissolves from her face and clothes. Adam. still sitting in her chair. “No!” screams McQueen from the back of the room. “Jake.” says Crissi. “As you can see. Fearless Leader. Jake here helped push you in the right direction.” . I’d say he could do well there. pursued by his son.” says Jake. this whole thing is just about over. ‘I told you.” “Yeah. he was getting much too rowdy. and if you make one wrong move. ‘It’s finally over.” Jake shrugs as if you are accused of some inconsequential impoliteness like eating the last cookie or forgetting to put down the toilet seat after taking a piss. and bolts for the nearest exit. .’ says Vuru. I think it’s time to betray your beloved leader. who begins running to him. thanks for taking care of Billy .” “Yes. And by the way.’ “No. you get to see how far his brains will fly.

To think. All who hear it. Her face is a mask of royalty and he posture the apotheosis of divinity and the rights of the divine. Your heart is beating in your head and everything is bleeding milk vapor. maybe six or seven years old walks into frame wearing blue shorts and a smile. “Did you think that a man could possibly be competent enough to bring about this planet’s glorious rebirth? And in a single lifetime no less. but you knew that when first you laid eyes on it.” Jake and Lisa turn their heads to her but she never removes her eyes from you. but the gun. clutching you head.“How did you--?” “I hear everything Adam Black. it seems. only contained a single bullet. “I’ve never heard Seraphim!” you scream at the top of your lungs. The door opens suddenly and a naked woman walks out like an alien stepping out of it’s spacecraft. looking at Crissi Drake with a mixture of fear and hatred.” Jake seems to snap out of some deep trance and fires on her. falling to your knees. written in Seraphim? Ha! I gave him that book! I wrote it too.” you shout. when I passed that story on to Aaron to tell you. and you thought that it could be accomplished by one stupid boy in just a few years because some angel came to his bed and told him where to find some magic books. Her head is bald and so is the spot betwixt her legs. “What book? The book of prophecy. to convince him of his own invincibility so that he would serve me without fear of death. Your ignorance has been your downfall. in my vision.” “But I saw the book in Aaron’s room. *** A younger version of yourself. trying to reconcile this new turn of events with what you thought you knew. I over-estimated you. “my enemy. For two-thousand years my family has planned this rebirth. Lisa just holds him tightly. hearing omnipresent high-pitched mechanical screeching. I believed you might actually see its gaping flaws. matching your volume. “Of course you have!” she screams right back. rising from her seat as she does so. She examines you for a moment with eyes that could . It wasn’t even in the true language of the angels but in the bastard tongue of those fallen from Heaven. “No.” she answers. didn’t you Adam? Because you speak the language of Angels. She looks as though she could crush Vuru Raha—or anyone else— between her thumb and index finger is she so pleased. can thereafter speak it.” you say.

don’t you? What was it that she said to you. so I chose him instead.” she says in a language that isn’t English. For it makes no sense to fear that which is inevitable.” “Let me go!” you scream. “I offer you this wisdom boy. “But I believe you. “She said .” ‘Aaron. child. you doubt she feels much of anything. You will not remember any of what I have said until the moment of choice is near. “She told me that I was to serve you .” she says. but Aaron had more of a stomach for that sort of thing than you. “Human being are controlled by fate.” she says. small human boy. I don’t think you could lie to me. It matters not. And she pulls you into the small room and closes the door. At some point in your future. . you didn’t see?’ “Neither of us saw. smacking your hard across your tender young face. “There will come a day when the fate of this planet will depend upon you.” says Crissi. and taught him the ancient ways of my family. but you have the potential to be a great one. .melt butter and your scream and start to run but she grabs you by your neck with the speed of a falcon diving down to snatch up its prey. “Do not fear me.” “Make the right choice. in anyway that I could.” says Crissi.” *** “Yes. but that you understand inherently. ‘That couldn’t be what she said!’ ‘You mean.” you clear your mind and look at her. You were my first choice for a King. it is blocked from us. you will be given the first real choice. but you know that she could make herself sound any way she wanted. He was a decent sorcerer when I finished with him. but there will be. no!’ shouts Vuru. . “Make not a single sound. anyway. but I can see in the stupidity of your shallow eyes that you won’t take it. one day. lest I have to crush every bone in your body. “You remember now. but inside. It is the language of the angels. Not yet. “Shut up!” she says. “There is no free-will. I always expected that you would come to my side eventually.” she says. You have a sorcerers heart. And to be honest. . and the pages of fate will end and you will start the first chapter in the book of the age of freedom. Adam?” She sounds sweet now. I think. you know. .

a time of cynics and naysayers.” you tell him. As for Adam. but you look at her with a gaze that you hope conceals the love in your eyes.” says Jake. Jake. . who stands there.” “Quit your sniveling. Jake grabs her gently around the shoulders and pulls her away. but it seems that every ounce of strength in her body is gone.” says Crissi. In fact. Jake. sliding down your body. drunk on their own alleged rationality and fevered with the excitement of their tiny human achievements. She beckons you with a single feline finger and you walk loyally to her side and take one last look at your friends. ‘me too. you are now a general for valiantly helping Adam kill Aaron. he is the new King of Myre High. We were waiting for a time without God and without magic. Adam. a guardian Mage in God’s army. You say to her. Best to leave it up to their imaginations. looking taller than she is. Lisa.” “Nno-o-o-o-o!” Lisa shouts. who was planning to betray us all in some vague way. It doesn’t matter how.” “That’s right.’ And you turn to Crissi. *** “The Drake bloodline has plotted these exact events for years. of course. He came to my father ten years ago.” she says with eyes full of tears and snot dripping from her nose and her mouth a tortured tangle of lips and teeth. leaving a trail of her tears and mucus down your shirt and the upper part of your pants. We planted seeds of malcontent in Curtis Alva.’ Yours tell him. we relied very heavily on it. For a moment you are worried sick that she will cling to you and Crissi will tire of the delay and kill her. The sight of her in such pain tears at your insides. and when it did. but we knew that they would. “No. bearing a gift—a key to the gate of . girl.” instructs Crissi. Jake is holding Lisa in his arms and whispering something comforting in her ear. Lisa jumps to her feet and runs to you. and it’s what I have to do. we set the wheels in motion. “He is coming with me. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing. . But it’s better this way. The plans have changed as times have changed. which is a sad but relieving sight. Jakes eyes say.“Adam . “I’m sorry. “Don’t say anything. and presented him with the means to sew those seeds into the polluted heart of the earth. We knew such an age was approaching. “This is what must be done.

.” “But what is the final objective?” you ask. but perhaps this will.” says Crissi. . and Vuru will die soon. was Crissi’s father. . And then Alva said something like . . “YOUR APOLOGIES HOLD NO VALUE. after all. when it came into his head that humanity had to be reunited with nature and return to his divine roots. it had been something she’d wanted for a long time.” And the voice had said. and that.” said Alva. He worshipped her and the Creator Himself with equal fervor. and knew very few spells that were much more than mental masturbation. and Alva was only a dabbler in the magic arts in those days. according to the plans of my bloodline. Alva died shortly after.heaven. It was in the war in Vietnam that he first turned to her for help. he chose her. Consider that for a moment and see if it doesn’t arouse suspicions as to who really masterminded this whole series of events. but you think she’s smiling. . “Where does Vuru come in?” you ask. because with her help. and she helped him survive. when the fruits of our labor are ripened—when our final objective is realized. “YOU ARE LATE. recalling your vision. God is all knowing and all wise. so not one of them came in handy. and in truth. Her creatures were. designed to survive the end of the world by the hand of God Himself. he went to her. a place was ripe with an unholy breed of life. So. but he’s not much help when you really need him.” boomed the voice of something beyond human. Oh my god. the sort of life that children feel emanating from closets and under beds as they shiver off the remnants of nightmares . something expressly forbidden. you suppose. the three of them combined their powers to create what you have come to call Red Day . and the help of my father. “I apologize most graciously. “That was Alva’s idea. perhaps because he was from New York or perhaps because he had exhausted all the other gods. rusted and abandoned but far from dead. she could.” “No. . Her face changes so subtly that you can’t be sure. The one trick he did have up his sleeve was he had purchased a book several years earlier from a washed-up occultist named Redford Grays—I would know. There had been a factory. it was the Drake family that did the washing—and discovered the names of all the true gods and goddesses of the earth. taking a bow the size of a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and showing it’s contents to the source of the voice. my father died in the process. you think. Years later. And she did it. my lord. . and. You see.

to help me create my perfect race! You have glances out the windows of my palace and seen earths dead constructing towers of black stone and cultivating fields of magma and you have heard the testimonies of Vuru. not even making as effort to conceal your fear and panic. Johnny. “I have ways of getting it out of you. “I’m rebuilding the world. “THE FUCKING RUSTY DOOR WITH CHIPS OF GREEN PAIN ON IT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HALLWAY IN THE EASTERN WING OF MY FUCKING PLANTATION. despite your fears. Do you realize the depth and width of my power here? Do you understand that I could bend the gates of heaven and stir the stars around in the sky? I can read your every thought and I know your every secret. yet you still fail to understand just what it is that I’m trying to accomplish. “Why do you think I kept the students of Myre High alive? It’s not because I like them. “I know when you want to fuck me! I know when you’re afraid of me! And I fucking know when you’re lying to me!” she screams. your true feelings and thoughts.” “No. “So tell me. so tell me. Hell.” she says. slinking down your chests with feline grace. I know you better than you know yourself. shaking the room and causing your ears to ring like tests from the Emergency Broadcasting System when she’s finished. She unzips your zipper and pulls out the best part of you. but her lips touch your dick and all resistance .” “Oh. grabbing you around the neck with a hand as soft as an infant’s. running her fingernails over your shirt in zigzags. Adam. shows no objection at all to a little game of in and out. in a voice that could be called sexy if it didn’t smash sexy to pieces by surpassing its epitome tenfold. shaking violently with rage and fear and lust and pretty much every emotion above. I know your deepest fears and your greatest desires. YOU FUCK! HOW DID IT GET THERE AND WHY CAN’T I GET IT OPEN?” her voice booms. It’s because I need them.” You open your mouth to utter an objection. Billy and even the different pieces of yourself. In my image. gliding down to your crotch like butter in a hot skillet. “I don’t know why the door won’t open!” you shout. “I won’t tell you. “you do know what the angel told you. below or beyond those three. what the angel said to you! What’s behind that door!” “What door?” you ask. but with a grip like an industrial vice. but it probably sounds more like ‘iyunnawidadowonnopun!’ “But. with myself as God. that’s okay” she says. Adam Augustus Black!” she speaks so passionately and with such presence that you feel like a small kitten seeking shelter from a hurricane just listening to her.She smiles again and says to you. who.” you say.

.” “You will. She pulls her lips off of you just long enough to answer. “I know.” You already know what she’s going to do. “I’ll show you. powerful creature that ever was is soiling her lips with your vulgar little piece of man-meat and the heavens are singing. the predictable transpires.” you say. but something is something and someone is something else. Visions of Lisa start to dance through your head. fuck yes! You try to shut it up.” “Better. but not the choice the angel spoke of. .” you say aloud. but it won’t. .sort of evaporates into a little cloud of pure lust that sends out little bolts of lightning to strike your pounding heart. the suppleness of her breasts. “What the hell!” shouts Crissi. . says something inside of you. leaving the orgasmic roars of thunder in their wake . the warm glow of her belly. who holds a flailing Lisa by her right arm with a grip as unyielding as Rush Limbaugh. through static. She’s going to go get Lisa from downstairs. What was sucking your dick now was something beautiful. “Are you going to tell me what I want to know.” you say to Crissi. you stupid boy! Stop thinking with your dick!’ screams Vuru. Crissi. a site you never thought you’d rejoice. You know enough to know that. And you realize that your dick is going limp in her delicate hands . the subdued passion in her eyes--the humanity of her beauty. and she’s barely even gotten started. “And why not?” asks Crissi. The slope of her back. “You won’t kill her. *** Predictably. And you find yourself I the exact position that you spent the last few minutes trying to figure out how to handle. provided you still have the key that Alva presented your . “It’s not going to work.” she says. This is the kind of shit that Wagner wrote Operas about! ‘Snap out of it. the roundness of her ass. and you’re having a hard time bringing yourself to care because the most beautiful. “I shouldn’t be doing this. I’ll never tell you. without a doubt. showing no emotion. seductive. It would be a choice. alright. and tell you to make a choice between telling her what she wants to know or watching the girl you love suffer and die. “and I know just how to make you. Doesn’t that make it so much more fun?” Yes.

it’s that intuition governs mens actions better than reason . your solution was unknowable to a mind basing its actions upon logical thought.” . . you’ve gotta stick to the fucking script and give me the key and take me to that door.” says Crissi. I used it to open the doorway to this place. you will overcome me somehow .” “It doesn’t need one.” “How could you come to such a conclusion?” “Don’t help her. If I don’t end you here and now.” you say smugly.” “The puzzle of the two wells . Yes.” “Then do it. Things cannot transpire this way. . . from the very begin everything which has transpired has been to your benefit. . this is impossible. . “I will. “and nothing can stop me. That’s what the angel told me. “No. This world was built with you in mind . . yes. maybe it was true of the old world too and I just never noticed. . She also told me that there would be such a thing as freewill one day. “My intuition. only you could unlock its doors and lead its people.” you tell her.” “Yes. but. It was created so that only you could solve its riddles. “There is no such thing as freewill. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about this brave new world of ours. and that I would have to make the first ever real choice in human history.” “The key to Heaven? I’ve already used it.” “But you wanna know what’s behind the door.” you tell her. yet you knew it just the same .father. raising one glowing green hand to the level of your face. .” “They can and they will. . I couldn’t ever make that choice if you killed me. . Adam!” shouts Lisa. and I want to use it on the rusty door.” you say. . .” “That door has no key-hole. I understand.” she says. . “I can kill you at any time I please.” “That is ridiculous. tossing Lisa aside and focusing on you with eyes like black holes. and since you have no freewill.

instead he charges Crissi with the speed and vigor of a raging bull on crack chasing the only cow in the pasture that’s into anal.” “Oh my. this is it. .“Nno-o-o-o-o-o!” shrieks Lisa. his face no more than so much rotten ground beef. He is still wearing his cowboy hat. with a revolting combination of Hollywood sound effects. you were about to die. Crissi’s face magically turns into a blood-sprinkler and you think the sack of meat that is Billy’s face is smiling. scraping. “There’s no way I’m leaving you again!” . The fires of the magma fields seem extinguished. You dash to the nearest window. when you hear the chaos from outside: screeching. I’m dead anyway. In his big-asbowling-ball hands he clutches a stick so big it might be called a small log. Seeing the look of unrelenting enmity in Crissi’s pretty face forces you to wonder whether or not you just took a bad course of action.” says Crissi. and chunks of his brains are crusted on the brim. “Without Crissi this place is falling apart. “I admire your brutality . We can’t leave! Not yet. “Tretch-yur-us bitch!” shouts a great. half-ignoring Lisa’s question of. howling. “I’ve got to. “Only his hate kept him alive. but it proves as ineffective as kicking a woman in the crotch. She responds just in time with a blast of green energy. because as far as you could see. . “You planned it this was from the verra beginnin. We’ve got to find the key and the door!” Then. screeching at inhuman pitches. you realize you were wrong. on further consideration. you say. “No. Crissi’s body crumples up into a heap of deadness on the floor and Lisa screams. Everything she created with her magic is unraveling. looks to you and you think. We’ve got to hurry. “I know the way out!” she shouts. A second later. but joy. bubbling voice to your right. But he says. About one-tenth of a second later. An here I thought we had sumptin specialer than Special K and Special Ed combined. causing the whole room to shake. sewn together with fishing twine or dental floss. “What is that?” She joins you at the window and together you watch the zombies fall to the earth.” you say. exploding. You turn to see the mammoth form of Billy. anyway.” then. though it barely fits on his malformed head.” you observe. whose angry face seems to have melted like a wax candle. he collapses. Billy turns. not in fear. You need to go!” “No!” she protests. Billy doesn’t waste another moment talking.

“I have just one more thing to do.” you tell her. Adam.” She leaves you now. because standing before you lying in front of you is Milo the Bastard and over him stands his father. Under the pillow. “—doing here? How did you get here and what’s happening to this place?” “Aaron and Crissi are dead. in this room full of dead enemies. and you close your eyes and begin to let your mind reach out and search for the key. “The key is in here somewhere. You grab it in your hand then. and then we can spend the rest of our lives together.” . it seems. I’ll never see you again. then. . you’d never have given it a second glance. if I concentrate. Mr. carrying you out of the room and down one of the many long hallways of the onceproud Plantation. “And this place is falling apart without them.” you say. I know that in my heart!” You seize her arms and pull her in close to you.” She looks at you for a moment. Leese. but in your tranced state. but you don’t have time to admire the effect. let’s see if my magical feet can find the door. this time wondering if your feet are moving all by themselves again until you can’t help but open your eyes and take a peek to make sure. what you think is almost certainly a lie: “I won’t die.” you say .” You stand there for many minutes with your eyes closed. you find yourself standing in huge bedroom with walls that seem to stretch up into forever so that you’d need a telescope to see the ceiling.” You’re right.” “I love you to. your feet start to move. McQueen. It’s a good thing you do. It really is quite dizzying. looking directly in her eyes. her eyes confirming something beyond words and says. You had envisioned a golden skeleton key reminiscent of those found in pirate cartoon. now melting and grinding into a visual that you’d think looked something like a collaboration between Salvador Dali and M. “Now. I know I can find it. And without opening your eyes or being aware that you’re doing it. Many minutes later. If you didn’t know its importance. but it looks more like an old car key. . you think. “I love you.C. you hadn’t heard him. He has been yelling at you for sometime. much to your surprise. The thing itself looks rather unimpressive. with complete sincerity. gripping it tightly and closing your eyes once more. Escher if your eyes were open. you tell her. “No! No! You’re not going to make it! If I let you go. “The bed. kiss her tightly on the lips. I promise.

She smiles at you. “Many have spoken to my face in anger.” “That’s untrue. I guess he’s dying. “You’ve damned us all! This is where all the food is! What are we to eat?” You ignore his question. Adam. bathed in its light. looking down upon Milo.” “I do have to ask . I realize that it’s impossible to be angry at you. closing your eyes again.” she says with a voice that soothes all pain.” says the man. He’s got nothing left to fight for. but I’ll be damned if I ever liked the brat. but Aaron brought him back for me. as if shamed. “He died in the battle for this school. The key in your hand is lit up like a flashlight. I cannot blame. but so perfectly white that you barely notice them. It shatters into a million pieces. “I thought I’d be angry. I thought it was from the anger. “What did you do?” you ask.” “Maybe not. with wings extended as wide as the room itself. knowing full well that the man will not attack.” you tell her.“You fool!” he screeches. At its heart. sits a girl so beautiful that your mind can hardly handle the sight of Her. even though shame seems beneath Her. bereft of furniture. and. Stupid boy. only not focused in any one direction. We were talking a minute ago and he just collapsed. A moment later. It don’t matter now. Here goes nothing. revealing a white room. you think as you extend the key. “I didn’t do a damn thing. I loved him like I shoulda. a little alarm goes off in your head and you open your eyes to the site of the big rusty door. “I somehow knew that I’d meet you before this was all through. . to the center or the glorious door. why did you let all this happen?” She looks down. but a glittering gold column of imposing beauty of such intensity that it is necessary to partially shield your eyes from its glory. who seems to be rather peacefully asleep. the door is no longer a rusty old ugly thing. which has now lost all sense of form. and some of them.” you say. but I guess it’s just that the spell is undone. . I am a trying God and not so infallible as some insist. sitting cross-legged like a Buddhist monk. and says with deep . but looking at you now. You know immediately that She is God. We’re all dead now.

Fifty miles to the south of Myre. .sadness. the Aries.” God blesses you with another smile. you are linked to Vuru Raha herself. which is to say. Forgot you were sitting there. is the keeper now of this planet. “But that is why you are here. She bears your child. because it is high time that I lifted my hand up from the steering wheel as I should have done in the beginning and present you a choice.” says God. is extremely limited. a decision that you must make on your own. Then.” “The blast will be that big?” “No. Vuru will know how to do it now that Crissi Drake’s hold on this world is gone. your time. is only minutes from exploding.” “How. . “What can I even do? What choices do I have?” “Well. right?” you ask. with a mind as free as my own. When you leave this room you can tell her to take you to Lisa. but the two places are connected. “No. remember?” “Jesus. a mind as free as it can be. the girl whom you love. and then transport the both of you to either the garden or to the temple. This connection is stronger than you realize . Or. you can leave this room and ask her to return you to Mire high. “Even I am a slave to the master plan.” you say. under the strain of Crissi’s demise. only to decide that she could not abandon you. and turned around to find you in this vast and disintegrating place. for she. which.” you say. sorry. ones that would leave everyone in tact. walked to the exit of this place. it can take you anywhere on this earth. “There is a machine her. but its more likely that they’d result in everyone’s death . not I. .” “But Myre high will be spared. you see. and then seal this place off from that side. feeling sick. not bothering to apologize this time. . this place is completely separate from Myre high! Is it even in the same dimension?” “Same planet. “Oh my God. There are other options I suppose. “Er.” “What is my choice?” “Lisa Martin.” .

So much for the first human decision. even to your beautiful face. ‘And I await your choice. ‘I’m here. When there is no response your heart begins thumping. or the people I’m sworn to? One life.’ The first real decision in human history.’ “So you heard all that. Adam. “Are you there. The spot where the door once stood just an empty spot of wall.” “You will learn to forgive Me some day. He’s always coming in my room and yelling about how dirty it is like it matters . A BRIEF DISCURSION FROM THE JOURNAL OF JOHNNY YARROWS: April 19 My dad is such an asshole. or the one that I want to make? ‘You have no time! You must decide now!’ Vuru screams in a panic. knowing that it’s unnecessary. Oh shit. seeming genuinely hurt. forgetting to refer to herself as we. Vuru?” you ask aloud. I saw it.’ she says with an unbecoming deadness in here voice. huh?” ‘Yes. but powerless to convince your heart of it. you think. I have no idea what you’ll choose. “of that. you discover. you think. I have faith.” she says. I’m just gonna stand here and wait to die.“I can see now how people could become angry to you. So. what’ll it be. melting into nothing. you find yourself in the hallway of Crissi’s plantation once again.’ “You already know what I’ll choose. is not at all hard to make. Adam.” And then. I saw it. You make your decision. or hundreds? The choice I know is right. though you imagine you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting it either way. the girl I love. but you’d better hurry. don’t you?” ‘Actually. with a perplexing suddenness. Adam.

. shit. No. I can’t handle it. Maybe I just have a taste for blood. I fell right into her plans. In other news. run! No. somehow.to him how I live in a room that he never even comes into unless he has something he wants to yell about. Maybe it’s the only solution my mind even knows anymore. don’t touch me. I wake up sometimes and I’m sure that it will. Strange. . . I’m sure things will be okay somehow. stop! You motherfucker. Please. Unfortunately. that’s all. . . . bearing a Death Hex. that’s true. What a prick! Sometimes. . I love you both. Even though I know it could never come true. DAY ???: EDEN . No. . but I’ve hurt both of you and I don’t deserve your forgiveness. If I thought I could get away with it. . yes. I never knew who I was really working for until he told me. ugh . . where I’m getting ate alive by fucking bugs! I swear to god I cant close my fucking eyes without seeing that shit. I kind of held a grudge against him. The truth is . . It has to be. but that’s to be expected from kids under so much pressure. may God have mercy on my soul and the souls that I’ve dragged with me to this new world. I wonder if there deaths could have been avoided and I’m now sure that they could have been in a hundred-thousand ways. Not until the Garden is done. y’know. Well. oh god . even though I knew I could be of help. I can’t believe I was so stupid! I’ve done so much wrong that I really don’t deserve to live. God forgive me. I just know it will. I pretend I’m downstairs smothering him with a damn pillow. Lisa! Have faith! . and I couldn’t permit that information around the school just yet. I . I love him. A student named Aaron Bittor has started something of a rebellion against me. Lisa! Lisa! . Fuck ya later! THE FINAL WORDS OF JAKE CARTER I’m sorry. late when I lie in bed at night. about the red skies and the black earth. Lisa. . . so part of me wanted to go against him. but. Still. I could have isolated them. I guess I was really working for Crissi. . I have no love for him. . I should have told him. but I was a. but that might have started the teachers talking. Lisa. Vuru will take care of them. I know I don’t have the right to say that. oh god . have faith . Adam spotted the beacon of Vuru’s temple in the distance. you know. but it’ll be okay. Did you hear that? Hey! Stop! No! You can’t take her. . I thought that it would all be okay after I got rid of Aaron. I’ve never felt closer to two people. . a peace man has not felt since before original sin. I fought with Alva. but even I didn’t know that. I still keep having those dreams. after I’m done jerking off. Like you love him. . Please don’t cry. I never even got laid . my hand is tired. If so. I never wanted this to happen. so instead I sent them out on a journey. But I knew I couldn’t have him. I would. No. and by then I was so ashamed I didn’t want to admit it to him. Once I lead them to The Mighty Goddess’s Eden. two more had to be lost before that peace could be found: Adam Black and Jonathan Yarrows. FROM THE JOURNAL OF CURTIS ALVA: Undated [translated from Seraphim] Everything went completely according to plan. . Well. I love the both of you so much. they will be overcome with a peace unknown to them. I don’t understand it myself. dammit. I should have told you. you know. . a turncoat. but there’s this guy with me that saves my life and (I know it sounds faggy) takes my hand and leads me to safety. I can’t . I’m fine. I worked for Aaron from the beginning. I just feel like a human turd. Sometimes I really wish I could do it. I can’t.

“Well.” “What happened then?” you ask in a very quiet voice. “Even more beautiful than the first Adam. “Yes.” says the Bug-lady called Vuru. “Why. God stayed mad at them. if The Lord God said no?” you ask.” “They didn’t eat it. “He had known they would take it. smiling. enraptured.” . Adam. “You really are beautiful. just staring down. wrapping one smooth muscular arm around the torso of your mate. Lisa. “A long time ago there was a man named Adam with a mate called Eve.” she says.Half asleep. well.” said Vuru. It’s fruit was forbidden. I guess because it was the only fruit they hadn’t yet tasted.” she says. “I’m afraid they did. God kicked them out of the Garden. you see. Your mate. Her eyes are wide open and filled with the stars.” “And did they?” she asks. . long time. The bug-lady sits upon the grassy hill above you. He told them that they could eat of any fruit in the garden. It was all part of God’s plan. Adam. did they?” You ask. “Vuru?” you ask.” says Vuru. and for a long. looks intensely interested as well. “He forgave them from the beginning. “Because . Vuru?” you ask her. except for the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge.” “First Adam. “Yes.” “Did he ever forgive them?” Lisa asks. given to them by the Lord God. You look into them and think you could look into them all day. He was waiting to see how long it would take them to forgive Him. you and roll over onto your side. . and they lived in a Garden as beautiful as this one. “I think they did.

“I will give birth to him. right?” “Yes. I mean. “They’ll find they’re own apple. but it’s like he’s an idiot. and with wisdom comes evolution. the pain will return. not a prophet. humanity now has a means to ascend as it never did before?” “And what about the child in your belly?” He asks. The truth is that as time wears on. and in the end. and with evolution comes . there will be no fruit that you aren’t sick of.” “He’s as bright as he ever was. “It seems kind of sad. They will slowly rediscover pain and the world around them will slowly reflect it.” says Vuru with a motherly smile. you can hear Vuru talking to someone and even though she told you not to.” says Vuru. Johnny. they’ll do it slowly. who’s completely lost interest in Vuru’s story. right?” you say with a clever smile on your lips. man will be in control of his own destiny. “but he’s lost the pain that tempered that intelligence. “Okay!” you shout.” says a voice that you might have once recognized as Johnny Yarrows. and the intellect will grow and it will all begin anew.” says Vuru. There will be no divine hand guiding his every action. they’ll be all the better for it.” . And they won’t damn themselves with a single bite. what’s all this stuff about giving them a forbidden fruit when they’re ready?” “Johnny. Adam?” asks Lisa. many years. jumping to your feet and running through the brush with her right at your heals. I’ll make some that you aren’t allowed to eat. dear. for God to correct Her mistake. . . you sneak into her head and listen to the conversation through her ears. you can be so human at times. and soon. well.“We can eat whatever fruits we want. “I mean. but this time. “Right you are. because with pain comes wisdom. pushing him in the right direction.” “But we’ll eat them anyway. over the course of many. You can eat whatever you want. That was the whole purpose of all of this. me. I’m glad he’s happy. and then. “You wanna go run through the high grass with me. Behind you. maybe.” “And then what?” “I’m a Goddess. Don’t you see.” “But it seems to me that you’re controlling them.

Strangely. . Something that you can’t even find a word to describe. his divinity is restored and he is once again a part of nature. but it makes you feel something that you can’t recall ever feeling before.And at this point. giggling and wrestling with her until she is worn out and lets you take her. pain? You don’t want to think about it. so you turn and trackle Lisa to the ground. . You make love to her (for the first time?) in the high grass. . you find yourself thinking. You smile. Man has returned to the garden that Vuru created. A part of you understands that this return is not permanent. You don’t understand what either of them are really talking about. you stop listening. except maybe .

Big Head. Two of the top ten most viewed videos on YouTube are of babies. And I don't mean you just give it food. You can have sex with them. You also have to hold it. change it's diapers. Let's think about that for a minute. A witty anecdote told by a charmingly intelligent associate? Nope. It can't really propel itself forward in any meaningful way and has no coordination.NOTES First. And worst of all. you go to jail. Big eyes. The surreal sketch comedy of Monty Python? No. Big eyes. You have to feed it. Small body. But you know what else is cute? Girls. They lie around in a crib. And unlike babies. Big eyes. That's more than the population of the UK twice over. Some models even come equipped with the ability to have an intelligent conversation—though that feature is still in Beta testing. Burp it. Small body. So that's pretty lame. Big head. Am I missing some hidden comedy gem here? Have I wasted my life trying to formulate actual jokes based on social issues of relevance when I could have just been walking up to people and saying. “BLOO!” the whole time? Let's face facts here: babies are fucking stupid. They've got little tiny bodies and great big heads and gigantic fucking soulless eyes. “Charlie Bit My Finger Again” with nearly 211 million views and “Hahaha” with neary 130 million. Same formula. so it can't possibly make you a sandwich or fetch you a drink. You actually have to sit there and waste your valuable time feeding it. What's the last good conversation you had with a baby? When's the last time you saw a baby reading Voltaire? Have you ever heard of a baby making even one major scientific discovery? Babies are idiots. Hell. That's why puppies are cute. That's why Chibi's are cute. Big head. shitting themselves. Sure. John Kennedy Toole's brilliant work of social satire “A Confederacy Of Dunces”? No. constantly crying for attention like little Lindsay Lohans. That's why Pikachu is cute. It's just his parents going “BLOO!” I don't get it. BABIES ARE IDIOTS Babies. Our culture loves those little mewling fecal factories. What is he laughing at? The comedy styling of Bill Hicks? No. even some dogs can fetch you a drink. Either holding a bottle for it or shoveling goop into its mouth with a tiny little spoon. girls are useful. but they're so cute!” Sure. but it will make you do things for it. This is a little tiny human being that cannot control . That's pretty much the recipe for cute. They can make you a sandwich. And it's just a baby laughing. Small body. What can you do with a baby? It's too small to have sex with. Think about it. and even if you do. Not only will it not do anything for you. Babies are cute. They're cute. the uneditted outlines written for all of the videos in my idiots series. “Aww.

Because I grew up to be fucking awesome. they're making the worlds shittiest arts and crafts. macaroni is for eating— and even then. Or let's say you have a hot daughter or a hot son. Go to a public place and look around. But here's the problem. Of course. Who hasn't seen a worm? If I wanted to see worms. So. our elegant solution was to invent a product to wrap around their potty parts. And don't get me wrong. “I dug a hole in my backyard yesterday and I saw a worm. All I'm saying is this: babies are fucking idiots and they're overrated. mommy!” No. So what? You think they're going to help you out? Bullshit. What a waste of your precious time. Macaroni pictures? Seriously. with no respite. I like flowers. they are capable of speech. it's never anything fascinating. can you tap that? No. pollute it with another boring fucking loser in line at Starbucks? And let's say your baby grows up to be successful. do yourself a favor. If you're considering having a kid. We're the most interesting thing in this universe. “Did you throw away a perfectly good baby? That's wasteful!” The only good thing about babies is that they eventually grow up. because they retain baby-like cuteness but. I think they're pretty. I'm glad my mom felt differently though. CHILDREN ARE IDIOTS Children are even more popular then babies. Throw the damn thing off a cliff and spare yourselves the trauma of seeing and smelling mushy fecal matter day in and day out. they grow up into failures. That would be incest and it's considered “wrong. Unfortunately. it's a tree that died for nothing with pasta that could . Here's a better solution. you can't throw the damn thing off a cliff because then the authorities get all uppity. unlike babies. You were the one who raised them. only if you're a broke ass loser—it's not for gluing haphazardly to a piece of paper. Is that really what you want to do to this world. 9 times out of 10. a baby is still a seed. I'd look up a stray dog's asshole. But I know that most of them will grow up into bank tellers and traffic cops—so I'm not too impressed with them as a whole. you little imbecile. But now that they look good. Half the time it's undecipherable gibberish: mamynmiwetodapu anisabuttafwy. And even when you do understand them. You were the one who made them. See all those morons? Odds are good. It's always some boring shit. But I don't give a fuck about seeds. they've got nothing worthwhile to say. that's what your baby will look like it 30 years. In my opinion. “It's a fire truck. You're going to a nursing home where they won't visit you. The really lame thing is that the loser they do hook up with will be someone you hate. So you spent all that time cultivating some hotty only so she could blow the first guy who worked up the nerve to say hi to her. then I'm interested in that person.” Big fucking deal.when it pisses and shits. I'm all for procreation.” That's like telling a farmer he can't eat his own crops. When they're not boring you with the most pointless anecdotes in the world. I'm all for keeping this big human machine chugging away. If it grows into an interesting person.

I'm nervous that it's parents are going to think I want to abduct it. And fucking glitter. that's a smart fucking kid. A lot of people complain that children are loud. For one. Don't tell me that 6-year-olds are innocent. I was the kid that got fucking picked on for being just a little bit strange. right. People who are bothered by loud noises are just whiny and pathetic in my book. He's very advanced. Fuck glitter. he or she is just another dunce and should be treated accordingly. What socially irredeemable putz thought it was a good idea to give them glitter? Welcome to a gallery of the biggest eyesores to ever enter into our reality. “Did you see that? Little Clifford just tied his own shoe lace. a fucking exhibit to you? Creepy little bastard.have been used to feed a bachelor somewhere glued all over its corpse in a completely random configuration. So sweet. What I do hate is if a child talks to me in public though. Yeah. they don't work for Twilight and they don't work for your picture of you and your BFF riding a giant butterfly to the magical castle. For another. they stare. And no matter how fucking dumb a kid is—they've always got that parent who talks about how bright they are. What am I. I didn't learn to tie my shoes until I was 8. If your child is creating rich worlds with their own deep symbolism and iconography then hey. He's stupid and you were even stupider. So pure. They hunt in packs of conformity enforcers. Sparkles. “A walrus with buck teeth! Absurd! What an imagination my child has!” Horse cocks! There's nothing imaginative about that. A bachelor is starving tonight because his macaroni is stuck to some ignorant little moron's piece of red construction paper. Tying your shoes is not an accomplishment at any age. The only reason I would abduct a child is to feed it to the pet alligator I will hopefully one day have. it is now officially encroaching on my life in a substantive way that is genuinely disconcerting to me. Failing that. Another piece of conventional wisdom that is stunningly full of shit: kids are innocent. And even when you catch them. Unless you're in a movie theater or library. I know. I don't mind that. I don't care if you were tying shoelaces in utero. They just keep staring. And he's only 7. You ever catch a kid just staring at you? Their eyes all filled with disgusting naïve curiosity. you're not entitled to silence. What mental invalid came up with this shit and how has it survived thousands of years of empirical evidence to the contrary? Kids are vicious little sacks of pure malevolent cruelty who violently reject anyone or anything that is different than they are.” No. One thing kids get too much credit for is this idea that they have such tremendous imaginations. prejudicial cunts trying to beat you into compliance with their social norms. A fire truck! Peh! I'd let my house burn to the ground before letting myself be rescued by such a noodly abomination. I'm still not impressed. Never one-on-one of course. they don't look away. I got my ass kicked by 6-year-olds all the time when I was one of them. you selfish fucks. The world doesn't revolve around you. Also. “Hi!” It .

but I'm not sharing. People also got pissed off when I said children are stupid. It doesn't take a village. They don't do their homework. apparently. in order to keep pissing you guys off. including other teenagers. No tits or cursing on TV! Why? Children might see it. “Aw. Children hate teenagers because teenagers are scary. well. Everyone thinks teenagers are stupid. simply because I think it's the only attitude in life worth respecting. It just takes a brain. teenagers are still idiots. Children. revoltingly. TJ. I also happen to believe that. Horrible little mutant demon children. Every censorship organization in American history from the Comics Code Authority to the MPAA came about with the goal of protecting children. I bet no one will get pissed of now that I'm saying teenagers are stupid. walking or turning away and hoping it will vanish. They're the only human age group that don't take it in the ass from authority. I can't say something popular. That's what I like that about them. We should think of others.” Oh yeah. We're conditioned in this world to view our own desires as somewhat dirty and loathsome. of course.” Wrong. I've done everything in my power to mentally retain the attitudes of a 15-year-old. the really selfish people are the ones who tell you that shit—who want you to put their interests in front of your own. Teenagers beat the fuck out of them if given the chance.” Yeah. We shouldn't be so selfish. They're trying to assert their little identities and so anyone who gets in the way of that gets their arrogant scorn.chirps. They might see it and come under the false impression that tits and profanity exist in the world. Our culture revolves around protecting them. neither have yours. “Aw. come on. They're still learning. Too bad those are in short supply. Fuck everybody else. The biggest problem with children by far though is that they ruin everything. They're not really smart. Luckily. Hello. Bullshit. They're just kids. They're just smarter than everyone else. I have to say the opposite. Why is it talking to me? Does it think I have candy. Why don't they learn to not be such obnoxious little bags of shit? However. Adults hate teenagers because teenagers are unruly and volatile. TEENS ARE IDIOTS People got pissed off when I said babies were stupid. . I can't say that teenagers are stupid. “Erm. Teenagers tell their parents to go fuck themselves. Don't get me wrong though. TJ.” I say. Watch a movie called “This Film Is Not Yet Rated” and learn how a group of nutty religious soccer mom's took control of art in America by using their children as stepping stones to that sort of power. Why? Because “it takes a village. I do. I have to say the teenagers are smart. That's why. they're just babies! Their brains haven't even developed yet. I suppose. It's the attitude that says: I want to do shit my way.

“You want to fuck teenage girls. They're typically thoughtless.They prop up shit like Katy Perry and Transformers 2 with their utter lack of good taste. spaced minutes apart. Selling porno mags and cigarettes out of my backpack because I looked old enough to fool the Indian guy who owned the nearby gas station. You could get weirder shit on the net. sure. We never imagined that our .500 over the course of a school year—and it all went to books. I need to get my smoke on. but they dress funny too. Your mom could walk in at any minute. I remember my own days as a teenager. it was in the living room. I guess that. That's the teen mentality. but it's this wonderfully selfish Zen stupidity that is actually the closest we come in life to true freedom. comic books and fast food.” Children. If they did. witless little shitheads. It's stupidity. And not that I have any room to talk. So. When we're teenagers we never conceive of the possibility that someone might one day stuff us into a cubicle and make us sort through data all day. They won't make eye-contact. though slightly less shitty than the music liked by teenage girls. Teenage boys are annoying because they don't know how to fucking talk. my ass. Penthouse and Hustler were still way ahead of their cyber competition. I like teenagers. Children don't have big. magazines were still the reigning porn delivery system. I want to read Batman and eat a cheeseburger. They say “um” and “like” every other word. Or maybe he just pretended to be fooled. and it's fucking great. you are the teenage girl. They like shitty music. “Shouldn't you be saving money for college?” Fuck you mom and dad. with the advent of the internet. you probably couldn't give porno mags away anymore. Fuck a car. But this was in the days when the internet was around but most people didn't have it. You had to learn to jerk off on this sporadic bursts. For the most part though.” Fucking cops. They blow their money on stupid shit like weed and Xbox games while their parents say. Fuck a college education. Just looking at a JPEG took a fucking eternity. And it was slow. which is just a shame because someone ought to be hitting it and us experienced males can't do it without Officer Friendly breathing down our necks. in prison. They spend most of their free time texting and playing video games and hanging out in front of places while acting as though they don't want to be there. Children don't have D cups. but for speed and concealability. Teenage girls are annoying because they go out into public dressed like sluts and then if you look at their massive titties there is a segment of our society that will happily declare you a pedophile for “oggling those poor children. You know what I did with the money I made peddling my porn and smoke? I probably made $1. I didn't save a dime for anything useful. Fuck pragmatism. eh? Well. luscious round asses crammed into designer jeans. They are mostly too nervous to tap that teenage girl ass.

Once I get my Associates in Mongolian History I'll be set for life. Here's your SUV. It will only get bigger and more empty. You let them know that you didn't take shit lightly. You still know what you stand for. Until it consumes you. The title is a lie.” You've become a good little trooper. Remember that half-ass job you got when you were 16 where you told your boss to suck your dick after he complained that you didn't wash some dish properly? That doesn't fly anymore. It won't happen again. You're the same dumb fuck you always were. but by assimilating us into the adult collective. And those are just the first asses you'll have to kiss. “Yes. Here's some idiot kids of your own to worry about. You suck authorities dick. So you have to say. but you dragged your feet the whole time. The authority figures that we rebel against win. you will never fill that hole inside your chest. Because every time you smile and say “Paper or plastic?” you die inside. All the while. . Now you kiss ass on a daily basis. Enjoy.adulthood will consist of selling cars or mopping floors or being night watchmen or the very same cops that beat our asses and steal our weed. It's when you begin to realize that all that wisdom and certainty that you thought you'd gain in your 20's is a big bullshit lie of extraordinary proportions. All that's changed is that you know have a lot more responsibilities. I'm just doing this to pay for college. ONE OF US! ONE OF US! WE WILL MAKE YOU ONE OF US! Here's your mortgage. but what you would have done to stand up for yourself if you didn't need this job so bad. you say to yourself. you don't know what you've lost. The days of telling your parents to go fuck themselves are over and the days of kissing their asses in the hopes that they'll lend you rent money have begun. Now you actually need that job. But you stand for nothing. It was that Zen selfishness. sir. The only problem is that Mongolian History doesn't qualify you to do shit but be the Waitress who knows a lot about Mongolian history. Let me help you. you think that behind the veil of the yes-sirring sad sack that you've become you're still the same person. I won't ever have to do this soul-sucking job again. You talk to your friends not about what you did to stand up for yourself. but you can't put your finger on it. You threw a few middle fingers in their direction. You have an idea that something is hollow inside of you. And no matter how much you swallow. You had to take shit off of people as a kid. The sad thing is. Now the middle fingers are only in your head. Sorry about that. Viva la zen stupidity! Viva la zen selfishness! Viva la teen angst! ADULTS ARE IDIOTS part 1 (20's and 30's) Being in your 20's is fucking horrible. Not by finally reigning us in. Teenagers aren't idiots. We never think we're going to grow up and lose our middle fingers. but we do. It was that healthy hatred for authority.

complete . In your 30's you begin to realize that the job your doing now is going to be the kind of job you'll be doing for the rest of your life. then you'll be surrounded by ass-kissing sycophants. Or you might just be destined to crunch data until the day you die.” Sadly. Congratulations. regardless of social class or personality. You'll always be stressed. this is actually the least stupid option. You'll never get the raises you want. By the time you hit your 30's. And eventually. but only in menial or semi-menial jobs like janitor or stripper or construction worker or waitress then you'll find that you are trapped in a dead-end profession with zero upward mobility. the way in which your life sucks depends on what you did in your 20's. If any of the idiots under you fuck up. so fucking what? Do you know what that enables you to do? It enables you to work a high stress job and support a gold-digging spouse and some shiftless fucking no-good kids that resent you for spending too much time at work. If you're some high-powered professional. Good luck getting that low-paying entry level position in an office run by a megalomaniacal fucktard boss that 300 other people with the same degree are also trying to get. If you worked hard. You'll be ruthless. then you can probably count on a pretty similar fate. If you got your college education in something useless like French Poetry. You'll never know if anyone really cares about you. Your boyfriend or girlfriend will constantly insist that you be more assertive to achieve even greater office power. then in your bosses eyes. If you were lazy and shiftless then you stop being this cool guy that people look up to as this nonconformist badass and you start being the guy that people talk shit about: “He doesn't even have a job. even if you become the manager you're going to be miserable. You're getting a law degree or a business degree from somewhere that actually matters like Harvard or Stanford or some other pretentious cocksucker university—still. you fucked up. However. you'll recognize that your power is meaningless. Only idiots would create such a meaningless hell for themselves to languish in. You'll never know who really cares about you. you still feel like a desolate husk of a human being. It all depends on how much ass your willing to kiss and how much back you're willing to stab. If you got your college education in something practical like business then by the time you hit your 30's you might be on your way to managing a small office.Or maybe you're more practical-minded and you get a business degree. We must therefore conclude that young people are. Maybe you're an over-achiever or your from a rich family or both and you actually get a degree in something worth a flying bag of monkey dicks. Others talking shit about you is a small price to pay for not being someone else's bitch. because that's how you've always been. but you'll wonder deep inside your heart why no matter how much wealth and power you accrue.

Everyone else is fucking stupid though. And you know how impressionable children are. the midlife crises. You know how right now in life you get offended when someone smacks your mother in the face or calls you an ugly piece of trash not worth the 10 cents you whore your sister out for? Well. You know. imagine getting that pissed off about what amounts to nothing. You want it. If you're a republican. You figure. Why? Because this is my rant and I make the rules. but you don 't care. you develop a brand new emotion called moral outrage.” You become a Ponce De Leon of pussy—looking for a fountain of youth that doesn't and can't exist. the midlife crises doesn't stop until you officially become an old woman. ADULTS ARE IDIOTS part 2 (40's and 50's) When you turn 40. 14-year-old girls in bikinis?! I'm outraged! This country is going down the tubes. I'm fucking awesome. around the age of 65 or so. You make peace with it. Your friends become the lame ass motherfuckers that your teenage self would have despised as prudish old cunts. That's when you realize. and you know it. “Holy shit. Your energy is flagging. You find yourself laughing at things that aren't funny. but the obvious answer is wrong. So you pop viagra or cialis. You just keep putting on more makeup. And you're the one pursuing them. Ah. Ironically. You know that no man really wants to fuck you anymore. You want to be young. your boobs are sagging. If you're a democrat.fucking idiots. the living embodiment of pure evil. If you're a woman. But you can't fuck like you used to—and let's face it. while you are bitching about 14-year-olds being too promiscuous in the media. It's barely even about the sex. You're in your twenties. “If I can fuck youth. I can have youth. you become a republican. They've got it. Does that mean you're an idiot too?” The obvious answer is yes. Your face is wrinkling. You accept it. but I'm still a six. . “I may not be a seven anymore.” you say. Also. you are having an affair with an 18-year-old as part of you midlife crisis. A lot of people will wonder: “TJ. They're just exploiting you. And my friends are smart. Trying to convince yourself you're still looking good. you were never that great—so the only way to keep a young girl or guy interested is to buy them shiny objects. If you're a man. I'm not young anymore.” Meanwhile. I'm about halfway to the grave and I've accomplished nothing!” So you make impulse buys like a new car and you start cheating on your wife (or husband—women and gay guys have midlife crises too) with a much younger person. you become Dick Cheney. I'm smart. It's about youth. not the other way around like it used to be. “Well. you can find guys that will do it—but the line isn't forming around the block like it used to. Sure. You move on. You buy lot's of lube. there's too much cursing on the TV! Children might hear. the midlife crisis abates after a year or two. So.

If you had your kids early. He's too busy watching The O'reilly Factor and drinking too much so he forgets that he's stuck with you. The only things that piss you off are what other people are doing to have fun. Unless you refused to let the system break you in your 20's and 30's. You become a fucking idiot. Not for those angry young asshoels who think their generation will be different. Now you're just full of shit and you want the whole world to be a bland as you are. you idiot. The shit-talking teenager you once were that you held onto throughout your 20's and 30's is now completely gone. You think the policeman really is your friend. This is the period where you stop being sharp and young and start being dull and closedoff. You hate his rotten guts. You don't have any hatred left for authority. Really. out-of-touch fucking fogey by the younger generation. The world is horrible. it's fun to spoil them just to fuck with your kids. You made them that way. And you're too busy lying to yourself and wallowing in your own quiet desperation to have a relationship with him beyond the occasional odd complaint about how he doesn't do shit for you. but you squandered it. You become way to fucking comfortable with being way too fucking comfortable. Really what you're mad about is that the world has passed you by. but he doesn't want a damn thing to do with you. You'll like your grandkids more than you ever liked your real kids. Plus. The world is dark. You're not full of potential anymore. Not for those soft old bastards who want to return to some old system of values that never really existed to begin with. It's all the fun of having a kid—playing games with them. You sigh. If you've got kids they're probably heading off to live on their own. He'd only fuck it up anyway. The pain you felt as a teenager seems like heaven compared to the depth of the sorrow you feel now. Tell them their dad is going to buy them a pony for Christmas. Unless . And the world will not change. Too fucking radical for your age group and still viewed as an old. You had potential. . unless you keep your middle finger. And certainly not for you. Then it was mostly hormones—now it caries a true intellectual weight. They'll still ask for money.And you've got a husband. You think a fetus is human being. You think violence in the media is what causes violence in real life. but they won't visit much. You think soldiers really are fighting for freedom. you don't want him too. all while struggling with abject loneliness. Now you really believe the bullshit that you once knew was false. It won't be you who comes out the bad guy. Then you get to be totally alone in the world. So you ban tag on playgrounds and suspend kids for drawing violent pictures. filling their heads with insane nonsense and admiring their cuteness—with none of the annoying shit like changing diapers or cleaning up messes or scolding them. The world will not . . You get to be a social pariah who preaches a truth that no one cares about. Then you complain that kids are too soft. then your 40's might see you become a grandparent.

watching TV. “What is this?” That's a toaster. you've gained no wisdom. So fuck your advice. doused the sausage with arsenic and sent it to the Japs. You spent your life drinking. but it can be a woman too. these fucks take it to new lengths. Maybe you killed some poor fucking brown people. the sweet heart or the cranky old fuck. “Get off my lawn. Stop it. It cannot change. The confused eccentric is a goldmine of unintentional humor. you damn squirrels. you'd be something. “Those were more innocent times.” What the fuck is your obsession with the weather. Human beings are not meant to be this bland. “I been around. doing some meaningless job and occasionally getting laid. Maybe you fought in a war at some point. “In my day we used to make toast by sticking bread in our butts and running through grease fires. you little squirelly fucks! In my time. In the final chapter of your life you want to act like you were lived the life of a philosopher? No. However. Grandma. If you knew something. I feel for you. which is a reasonable position. OLD PEOPLE ARE IDIOTS Old people are always talking about how wise they are. Old people are all racist as fuck.” That's nice. you sweet old bitch? You're stalking my weather. And so. you despair.” That's another thing. Maybe some poor brown people killed your buddy and you watched him die. you old fuck.” Bullshit. quietly. Usually for the republicans.change. Old people basically develop one of three personalities. The confused eccentric. Grandma. I've seen everything there is to see in this life and I know what's what. That's how you deal with squirrels. If a squirrel did this shit when I was a young man. Only I can. This guy just hates everything and everyone. we ripped that squirrel apart with our bare hands and threw his guts into a meat grinder. Fucking sons of bitches. This is just the sickeningly wholesome old person that you just want to kick down a flight of stairs to put them out of their inner torment. You're trying to vicariously experience my weather. but can be a guy too.t see so good. That's just weird. “I baked you this cookies. I think it's time we put you down. The median age of a Fox News viewer is 65. And Japs. son. squirrels knew their goddamn place. and without much outward complaint. “How's the weather down there? I looked at your news and I saw it rained yesterday.” They're rat-turds grandma. Still. Then there's the cranky old fuck. Sad? Sure. And they vote. I hate you. Usually a man.” The sweetheart is usually a lady. You lived the life of a loser and any advice you have will only lead down the same ruinous path that wound you up in an assisted living community eating TV dinners for every meal. People are always saying that old . so I'm not sure if those are raisins of chocolate chips. You didn't pay those dues.

Dying people. And I was going to do a separate video for dying people. this makes me appreciate life all the more. get you affairs in order and stop ignoring the truth. They vote against every damn social program they can. You didn't have some great epiphany of spontaneous knowledge when you turned 60. Let them drive. The labor of the young pays for you to live in a separate America—and America where socialized medicine exists and works. famished scarecrows. are fucking idiots. of all ages. pardon me. And you lived like dumbfucks. Let's just burn them too. You need to accept your death. when they are the beneficiaries of the most socialization. you raspy-voiced sack of incontinence. but fuck it. “Wait a minute. I'm talking about people who get cancer or some other slow acting disease and they think. Fuck you. “Wow. They're the ones on Social Security and Medicaid and Medicare and they're the ones who vote against us young people having something equivalent. I want to live in the America too. First of all. . So fuck off with that snake oil. but socialism for everyone is unamerican? Why? Because you think you've earned your keep? Why? Because you managed to avoid getting hit by a bus for 75 years? That entitles you to something that no one else can have? Well. old people. Zarathustra come down from the mountain to tell us whippersnappers what's what. They're so uppity. Where is my free shit from Uncle Sam. And you're still dumbfucks.” You say. you wrinkly. you old miserably fucks. You're going to die. Fuck that. I give him a huge chunk of dough every check and he spends it on your stinky old ass and some stupid fucking wars in countries I don't give a dead rat's sauteed ass about. That's like when white people get to vote on whether blacks should have rights or when straight people vote on whether gays should have rights. They acted like unthinking morons their entire lives and think they emerged on the other side as sagacious pedagogues. I hate old people. Your optimism is not going to save you or even improve your final months.people shouldn't drive. So what? Their brains have broken down due to disuse. They think they know better than everyone else because they've been around longer. All I get out of it are some roads and a bureaucratic Berlin Wall of bullshit standing between me and my personal freedoms. And when we say.” Shove your sonny where the sun don't shine. You were born dumb fucks. just don't let them vote. You're the greediest fucking people on this planet. I'm gonna change do all the stuff that I never got to do. fuck you. right here and right now while I'm still good and pissed. I'm not talking about people who get hit by a bus and die on the asphalt over the course of the next 5 minutes. Socialism for you is great. sonny. When I get better. Well. “Too bad. you aren't getting better.” Bullshit. when I decline your unsolicited wisdom.

You already played that hand and it just wasn't in the cards for you. you can find ways to break them. Move on. There are things that this world wants you to be. you can subvert them. Sewage worker. There are only three slots for you to fill. I hope you eek out some happiness is whatever life you've wound up with. but you're still full of shit. You can't break them by deluding yourself that they aren't there. Awareness is the greatest weapon of all. Or you can be a drifter. You can be successful. doing drugs and not giving a fuck. but you can make your life better. I hope you don't die. Famous Actor. Whatever.Second of all. go back to college and become a marine biologist. No big deal. I know a lot of this is counter to the wisdom of our culture. you'll have that same dead end job after. We've set up a system where you have only three choices. Computer repair. it's simply too fucking late. You're not going to quit. Sorry. I don't make the rules. take some solace in this: if you are aware of the rules. At all. but if you recognize them. Just because the grim reaper tapped you on the shoulder doesn't mean the cards have been reshuffled. even if you do get better. . You're not going to change. You have that power. committing crimes. It just means that your pathetic life almost ended a little earlier than you expected. It's not easy. I just describe them. *** I hope you guys enjoyed this series! And those of you who say these this series depresses you. It's not the beaten path—but it's still there for those bold enough to take it. Awareness of the world is the only thing that can change the world—at least on an individual level. It's too late for that. doing odd jobs. Entrepreneur. TAA PTFO . you dying people who are seeing life from a whole new perspective . you're going to be exactly the same. you're full of shit. So. And if you haven't found that niche by the time you're 30 or 40. It's not simple. but you don't have to be them. There is no other niche. You may not be able to make the world better. TV producer. You drew the loser card and that's what you'll stay. You can be a grunt. The idea that we can do anything we set our minds too—but that's just not reality. You had a dead end job before you got cancer? Well. Firefighter. .

I wake up and drink soda. but who is there honestly worth communicating with in this world? I could even name my tumor. will fuck that up royally. I'm on a diet. we could forget how to tie our shoes or be subject to violent moodswings. sex. reading-occasionally I even do something productive. touting a shotgun at the front gate of my motor cortex and not letting any neurons transmit past him. "I'm sorry. Sure. 3." Maybe sometimes I will try to say. but maybe it will be fun. Or . Then I drink soda some more. youtube. Do I give up drinking colas altogether. . despite the possible risk of my head being taken over by a massive tumor named Billy. Even better if when you can't remember the names of people you've known you're whole life. That is literally the entirety of my existence. I'd call him Earl. I can't go with option one. Like. I don't want a brain tumor. friendly ball of stupidity eating a hotdog. and an abundance of corn syrup or even pure cane sugar. Porn. I've lost 20 pounds since I began my commitment to losing weight. You do something productive once and people start expecting you to be productive all the time. A big. My tumor is really acting up today. but I try to avoid that as much as possible. Remember Toe Jam & Earl for the Sega Genesis back in 1991? Earl looks like how I imagine a brain tumor looking. "NIP TIC SHABBOT!" That would be neat. "Earl. beige. as it lays bleeding. I do other stuff in between. Then I go back to bed. Option three is all that's left.Aspartamed I read an article that says that Aspartame was the 'most contested FDA approval' in history and that scores of independent studies showed that it caused brain cancer in lab animals and some doctors have linked it with a multitude of other symptoms. where'd you put my memories of my friends and family. Do I stop drinking zero calorie softdrinks and nuzzle once again to the highfructose corn syrup tit? 2. I go to raise my left hand and instead I punch a baby in the face. I can look its mother right in the eye and say. mostly nuerological. . I was actually drinking a coke zero as I read this and I had to pause for a moment to decide which of three paths I should take. Me and Earl could go on some magical adventures together. Do I persist in drinking diet soda. you prankster! LOL!" . "Thank you" and it will come out as. Why would I jeopardize that just for a few cans of soda? Option two is even more unlikely. Then. given this new piece of information. It would make communication difficult. Drinking carbonated beverages is what I do. 1.

Maybe a 5 or a 6. If you guys are gonna fight over her. He knows that his true love is out there. I wonder if anyone sells big cans of carbonated pure liquid aspartame. . Maybe he has no choice. it makes him sick. Something he can reasonably be expected to hold on to. she should at least have some curves. to touch each other. Who fights over that? I mean. maybe I already have a brain tumor. I think that Popeye and Bluto are repressed homosexuals whose true affections are for one another and that their unspoken desires manifest as quarrels over a clearly undesirable woman. you know? I bet tumors are going to be the next big thing in Hollywood. I mean. sleeping alone. but I do. You know what I think is really going on here? And I know that it's really popular these days to claim that iconic characters are gay. You know. When Popeye beats up Bluto. at the end of the day. I want a cool tumor. is by feigning a romantic rivalry for the hand of a woman that no heterosexual male could ever want to be romantically entangled with. he shares his bed with Olive. but Bluto is a perfectly good-looking guy in that rugged sort of way. Everyone will be trying to have the biggest and most uniquely shaped brain tumor. why not just go to a janitor's closet and fuck a mop? Maybe it would make sense if she was desirable in some other way--like she had a great personality or was rich. That shit would pretty much guarantee a tumor. She has a shrill voice. Anything to connect. They don't know how to express their raw sexual need for one another--and they live in an age where such affections are taboo to the highest degree--and so the only way that they can continue to be around each other. When. Not the case though.I actually want a brain tumor. Popeye is deformed. I bet George Clooney will have one shaped like Popeye. heiresses are all about carrying little Chihuahuas in their handbags. That would rock. Right now. but I bet that brain tumors are going to be in vogue in a few years. is totally fickle about who she wants to be with and doesn't appear to come from a rich family. it's because he needs an excuse to touch Bluto. Not anything too fancy. Two big. I'd drink it. powerful sailors fighting over the most flat-chested and homely girl in all of existence. but in this case it actually makes a lot of sense. I never understood the concept of Popeye. if Popeye and Bluto are going to beat the shit out of each other over a girl. I'm going to see if the doctor can go in an surgically put sunglasses on my tumor. I don't know why I peg him as a Popeye fan. Soda isn't nearly sweet enough anyway. This is the tragedy of Popeye. He should get him a nice little woman who knows how to cook.

My big white naked ass. I can't wait for someone to develop a suicide bomber fetish and try to blow themselves up in a shopping mall or something. If you write a short story critical of US Policy. Maybe they'll start talking. you've got nothing to fear. Or hell. then pass laws against it. then broaden the definition. "It's for your safety. you'll be charged with biochemical warfare and dragged to Guantanamo Bay. If some guy is going to fondle my balls. put him in with the child inmates." I do have something to hide. because none of these American terrorists ever seem to be any good at building bombs. The TSA is doing full body scans and patdowns of the citizens. of course. Then. you're a sex offender. Keep him away from the child inmates. Pretty soon. "Someone's giving us government transparency and subjecting those in power to the same scrutiny that they apply to us citizens? STOP THEM! THEY ARE TERRORISTS!" Does that word even mean anything at this point? Pretty soon if you steal a bag of pretzels from Wal-Mart you'll be a retail terrorist. Who knew the US was such a gossipy hen? A recent MSNBC online poll--not a scientific poll by any means--shows that 70% of people are in favor of classifying Wikileaks a "terrorist organization.TSA VIDEO OUTLINE The world is a scary place at the moment. they'll have to invent a new classification: sexual terrorist. and the line we hear from the government is. if you get caught looking at a woman's breasts in public the government will tattoo "UNCLEAN" to your forehead and encourage people to throw rotten apples at your genitals in the streets. If you fart in an elavator." In other words. They'll fail. . you'll be classified a literary terrorist. if you steal someone's socks and jerk off with them. As for their alternative to the full body scanners--the full body patdowns by angry guys with little brains and an inversely proportional amount of power--I'm not too keen on that either. which you know we probably have. We start off with a very specific definition of something. We've done what we always do. And when the FBI realizes that they did it because it turned them on. he's gotta pay the 10 bucks like everyone else. No Government agent should have the right to see that and no one in their right mind would want to. Sex Offender used to be essentially synonymous with child molestor. If you've got nothing to hide. Now. Wikileaks leaked all sorts of sensitive documents of the US talking shit about world leaders behind their backs. Put them in Guantanamo and the sex Offender Registry.

I understand. And if they do care. The government working on behalf of corporations once again. if you write graffitti on the walls of a Wal-Mart bathroom. Or watching House reruns on Hulu. I am just another broken man in a country of broken men. but they don't care about what their taxes are used for. they don't fuss. They want to use your tax dollars to shut down websites on behalf of their corporate masters. what you put into your mind. I've stopped believing that this country is even worth fighting for. You owe the bank some money? The government comes and kicks you out of your house on the banks behalf.Scarier still. Or looking at videos of bulldogs skateboarding. the publisher will send some cops by your house to shove a baton up your ass. They're foaming at the mouth to violate your first amendment rights. Pretty soon. . As bad as things are. I'm part of the problem. so they've stopped paying much attention to that. You download some music? The government shuts down the site you got it from. If money is used to kill. Maybe that person is you. Probably not. That's me too. If you write a bad review of a book on Amazon. The government is violating your fourth amendment rights when you travel. their heads held high in defiance of power? Where are they? They're all playing Angry birds on their iPhones. And I always will be. And the reaction of the common man to most of this? They don't care. what you do with your own person. They don't ever complain about the wars. They're realized that we won't ever do anything. they care about the wrong parts. And hey. I'm only describing the horrors that I see unfolding in the hopes that maybe someone less jaded then me will hear them and rise to the challenge. They care about being taxed too much. that's when they get pissed. That's when they get furious. They shut down torrent search engines. Not websites for political dissidents. At this point. Remind me again why anyone buys into the notion of human goodness? If there is goodness in us then where is the voice of the righteously furious? Where are the people to stand up against tyranny. They want to declare those who expose their misdeeds terrorists. If it's used to save. No. I just wonder how much the people will take. I don't have the will to fight. the government will come break your fingers so you can't hold a pen anymore. They only complain if the government tried to give them some healthcare. They're at the mall buying more distractions for themselves. They know the people are pissed. They want to use your tax dollars to pay for their overseas wars--where your brothers and sisters throw away their lives for the interests of multinational corporations with big defense contracts. the government recently shut down a bunch of websites. They want to use your taxes to pay for police to lock you up for what you put into your body.

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