Wednesday, April 30, 2014

"...the rest of the story."

 So, I'm in the 'joint' one day preparing to get out when one of the inmates walked up to me and said that there was a friend of his, from the outside, who wanted to get in touch with me.I was thinking I really do not know what this is all about; but what ever it is, I do not want any part of this. Needless to say, I chose to meet with the guy. He was a scribe for the shiners, a social calling. I spoke with Mr. C., the school principal, about it; he  too was on the negative side of meeting. This guy Timmy was interviewing the inmates that he visited because he was on a mission to find and help out an innocent inmate upon the inmate's release. He had been doing it for quite some time. But the system did not trust him. Meaning, they did not understand this journey that he was on, trying to find a innocent man. He felt that it was his Christian duty to do penance and be apart of the solution. What can I say? The reason he came to that conclusion was a surprise to me. The inmates come from the community at large. They all gossip. They also run the prisoners. Meaning, there is an inmate hierarchy; it runs the "icicle garden."The system is into disciplining the inmates; it does not care if the inmates dine on each other. You can take that which ever way that want -up the ass if it suits you. You see, I was a Cookie Crumb, one of Mr. C.'s inmate workers. I could go anywhere in the prison; so, as far as the inmates were concerned; I had a position -that Southern thing again. They wanted to control me so that I would be a courier for their drugs. Now to me, it was to much of a slippery slope. So, I got into a fight with the warden, and in front of his guards, I through down the gantlet. Well this spread through out the prison. As in the best of all worlds, my reputation was indelibly etched in every ones mind, that mother fucker is Crazy. But, in reality, it the warden who won the toss of the gantlet. He just gave me this fucking look and told me to "get along little doggie,"my ad lib. He knew that I was a Cookie Crumb; he respected Mr. C. What else can I say about the warden's actions at that moment. But, at this moment, I'm not going to get into the story behind my actions. For, you see, this is about Timmy and not me. One of the stories floating around Orangeburg was coming out of the malls. Some guy was boasting about the fact that it was he who had what some call date -raped with her; she saw nailing me for it, another Urban legend out of the Orangeburg mall. Timmy also heard from the inmate rummer mill that I was down for political reasons.The elites of SC putting me down because of my actions in Myrtle Beach, SC. For example, the reason that I was denied even a pardon, never mind the turning over my conviction, was all political. Timmy was convinced,  and  I got the vacation on Folly Beach, SC, when I got out. I also got my first and only job since my release from the "icicle garden." Until next time, e-me if you wish 'the rest of the story."  

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

"a horse with no name"... America

 When I got out of the "icicle garden," I went back to school. I got out in 1993, with a five year obligation as my debt with society. So when this story took place, I was studying psychology because I was under constant stress. Plus, I had lost control of my environment. So major fear factors. Anyway, I learned that women can discern the droppings of different mice just like the mouse can and know that it is safe to copulate with you, as in another mouse, not you in general. In nature it is important to spread your genes out and away from your small family of origin.  We had an experiment in class. The women could discern the strength of a male's fertility through his sweat. They did this by smelling the t-shirts worn by their male classmates. I was part of the test, enough said.  Also, in today's paper of the NY Times, science section, the mouse can discern the difference between a man an a women. Plus, all lab mice fear the male  and all lab mice find comfort with the female. I also learned that all a peptide needs for sequencing the gene is a starting point. So, here we go. When I was young I was the dominant Y to my X. Now my Y is weak and my X is resilient because I am old, not young. You should know that intellect, brain muscle, is not in the Y's tool box. Can I get in touch with this X, I do not know; but I am trying too. Can I take my brain's X and inculcate it into my Y's body? It seams to me that it would be fun to be able to think like a woman, not be one. So when I'm in Brain Core therapy, I create a star-gate hoping that I can pass my X through it. Psychic dreaming is knowing that you are in a dream state, therefore picking up on your vicarious experiences. It could be for me at this point of time all about the brain's mind. This is in the X's tool box. This is my X. Side bar: The brain's potential is infinite because its controls are honed through its procreation. The egg passes from mother to daughter; intellect is passed on through the Xist formation. Therefore, it now seems to me that if a woman can discern a mouse; and, a mouse can discern her, than I'm going to find my long lost cousin, sister X. Oh, yes! My X is a 1976 model because I was hypnotized in 76 to stop smoking. Whatever the doctor did I can trust. It was an instant star -gate forming. I never smoked a single cigarette from that moment on. I can trust that, just maybe, I could get back to the very moment that I formed that memory. If so, she (the X) will be able to visit with me, enjoying her renaissance. What I mean by all of this is this: When I'm in Brain Core therapy, I use self hypnosis trying to take me back through time, time travel. Searching, seeking, questing access to consciousness in its formation, real time. I'm also trying to replicate my skin cell in that body's time,1976. I want that moment in time to boost the cell's energy, return elasticity to the skin, anyway.

F-ile U-nder C-arnal K-nowledge: FUCK file. Mr. F

 This is true: Welcome to my world. When you are placed on the registry for sex offenders, the one thing that you can depend on is that you are fucked for life. So why did Judge F. surrender to political pressure and give it to me up the ass. Yes, there never was any evidence presented to the court to substantiate the verdict of guilty. But, Judge F. allowed his true nature to rise to the surface just like the corruption which must have been present when he was given the opening to assure the community that the south was changing- "the times they are changing." That is so fucking not true. Judge F. is just another one of our species who cares more about fitting in with the power brokers of the racial community's divided sense of duty. It is a zero sum game; all are subject to the whims of prejudice; it is their Christian duty. Judge F. is not neutral when sitting on the bench. That is if you think that a judge's duty is to find a fair balance between advisories. Punish the guilty, yet let the parties find a pathway back into the community of diversity. No, Judges like this one will always lean in the direction of prejudice when they feel their might be a cost of siding on the side of justice, the under dog. No matter where you are in this world, it will always help to remember, follow the money. Yes, as they say in the world of boxing, I believed F. took a dive right along with his friend and my attorney, B. L.  B.L. told me himself that the enemies that I created in SC were to entrenched to overcome. The public defender's office told me that the prosecutor wanted me to accept a plea deal for 30 years to life. The rogue bitch was out to make a name for herself; she too was sleeping with the enemies of justice. He, B.L.,  also said to the court under cross examination during my appeal that I never told him that I confessed to the crime of rape. So, I ask Judge F., how did this happen? Why was an innocent member of society repeatedly raped by the good citizens of the state of SC. Now please do not tell me that I was dreaming when I felt that dick plundering my asshole Judge F.

Monday, April 28, 2014

The icicle garden. Redux

Nepotism like the Rose comes as a three legged stool, "a rose is a rose is a rose." There is nothing more beautiful than a Rose so being in the family is essential. There are differences and there are dependencies and therein lies the balancing act between the two or three. But in the icicle garden there is no freedom unless there is death. What is life without freedom? It is death. If you can not dream a dream where is the rehabilitation, where is the justice? Is it with you trying to stake out your space even though you do not have any ties to the system of justice, family ties. You want to be the individual without any history; your family of influence does not have any skin in the game only prejudice. Why is this? Maybe it has to do with your need to be so special. Like that is all your grandmother said to you as you were growing up, "Little one, you are oh so special." So, unless you are the bull of contention, I suggest that you become a member of the herd and head off to the slaughter house. There you can become the thorn on the rose bush or a piece of gristle in the sausage. Fuck, second thought, you could join the band wagon -the fucking crowd that wants to condemn others so that you too can become what your grandmother promised you would be, special. What the fuck do I mean? It is quite simple, Richard Valenti is going up for parole for the 18th time; this is in SC. He has been in prison since 1971. No argument from me- he murdered several girls because he believed at that time that he was talking to God and the girls needed to die, maybe for the way they were acting. I do not know. But I do know that the family does not have the right to sway his opportunity. Where is the law, where are his constitutional rights? The fucking problem with the parole board is that they are political; therefore, they are corruptible. Now, maybe if you are the "Grandfather of Soul" and you give out your autograph, the Parole Board will let you go -slip sliding- on by. Hwy, Gramps  don't forget to drop off those tickets for your next consort at the door on your way out; by the way the pardon is in the mail. Please, I'm not knocking the Grandfather of Soul. I'm knocking the system and the Parole Board for their lies. For them, it is not about justice; it's about their distorted sense of Christianity. It's a measure of redemption, fuck can you imagine if Pope Francis were in town. Maybe the competition would drive the parole board to at least wash his feet. Fucking A! Just schagging on down the boardwalk. Folly Beach, SC    

Sunday, April 27, 2014

a patron's choice.

Give me a break, will you please. Now please, I do not mean a physical break like breaking my knee caps if I miss paying you my debt. You know, I didn't realize that it was you whom I was doing business with the blood sucker out of life's shadow. I thought I was doing business with the avatar you put out in the community to whitewash your image. Had I known that it was you and your social set of elitist sucking off of that witch's tit on the corner, I would have rendered myself a slave as is a custom in some of the tribes in the primal belief system from Africa's past. This is not one of those moments form the movies when the don said, "Hold your friends close but your enemies closer." Personally I do not want to eat with you, nor do I want you to eat me. So, as a Slave from the Southern model, pre-reconstruction, please consider me as an asset and tend to my needs. Life is about truth; life is not about what you think, life is about what life is, the meaning of is as Clinton meant. It is all about the role, it is your image. Anyway, the audience has its own obligation to suspend its disbelief. This is all about role -playing. As a patron, I can get more for my dollar if I place myself upon the stage, like a fly on the wall. The Renaissance of the role depends upon how well you shed your skin, imagine  a snake shedding its skin. Your performance is an out of body experience; this is not about your body; it's about your mind. The key to the role is that others know that it is how you measure your value.

Compare/Contrast: Marriage or divorce?

If you would imagine a window that is divided up into four equal sections. The top part is north; the bottom part is south; the right side is east; the left side is west - this I'm calling a paradigm: "the window pain theory."Just a tool, a way to observe a situation. Let us look at the two-state solution between the north and the south after the civil war; its cauldron of reconstruction politics. We can see many scenarios in hindsight, granting our wisdom with 20/20 vision. And for sure, it is still a work in process. OK, that took care of the top and bottom of the window. Now the east with its WASP sense of balance which no one other than a WASP can discern - projecting its baggage of Victorian morality inculcated while coming over on the Mayflower, buffering the protestant reformation. Juxtapose that to the west and its liberal undercurrent of "what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas"; there is no need for a confession. But still the WASP will visit his friends from out west and taste their sins, then run home and witness to the congregation that the Devil is alive an well out west, just proselytizing their souls. Now let us think about the probability of the Jewish dilemma being successful on its maiden voyage. Let us Mayflower it. What is the Jewish dilemma? It is the question of the two-state solution, Israel & Palestine.  Now hit on this metaphor if you will. Israel is resting at the train station waiting for God to get off, and by the way, the Jews have never left the station because God has not gotten off the train yet because the train has not arrived. Juxtapose this to Palestine; think tourism. Because the Palestinians believe that God got off of the train at their train station and God is not getting back on the train heading to the other side. So, let us go back to "the window pane theory"; using the US experience, its parable to process the dilemma. The Jewish dilemma sits right in the middle of the window where the four pains meet. Which one of the two choices will unfurl without a snag? Will you choose the north/south scenario, racial integration and its success as your model? Or will you choose the east/west scenario of combating sin? I personally believe that it is impossible to believe that probability could ever be on the side of a two-state solution. But the Middle East as a functioning whole could be the one state with a compass that can discern the sifting sands of history; creating its altered sense of secularization might have a chance if and only if God get back on the train heading for a much needed rest, like visiting with Napoleon on Crete. He did have the good luck of acquiring the Rosetta stone, the compass of his time.                 

Saturday, April 26, 2014

It's a game.

Can you imagine what it would be like if you had to live your life as if your neighbor had sway over your actions, to the extent that your pleasure depends upon how comfortable your neighbor is with how well you respect their wishes over yours? The herd is forming so get along little doggie. There is one small point that every one seems to have forgotten, Al Gore did develop the internet for commercial use because before it was called the internet. It was called N.S.A. It is an arm of the military. V.P. Gore was releasing this tool of the industrial military complex of data mining over to private industry. This is the way of the system, get the government to develop and harness these capital pathways.  Now, just like Humpty-Dumpty falling off of the wall you are not going to get your civil rights put back together again. You had civil rights, or you believed that you had civil rights until you found out that they never existed accept in your inadequate memory, education. Please name me any organization out there in these days of the quagmire that do not readily subjugate your needs to the needs of its process. Individuals in today's social fabric is frayed and is being cheapened each day as their quality of live fades along with the gloss of their clothing, all of which is being manufactured from afar to justify some fucking twisted need to sway and control more of the world's resources. The corporation as an individual is only in the mind of someone who wants to control you through their financial wealth. The U.S. supreme court just gave private industry another step up in their control over you when they gave political forces the power to consume any of the effect that the individual "should" have over the election process. The individual is loosing in all of the areas that their parents had sway. Why? Well because it just might be that you do not count because you have not participated in the system's life; those who were in the war could not be set aside like the undisciplined children which they spawned. Their children just want a good tanning process; you know those tan lines you see when you get down and dirty while getting naked.    

Living...a glass house.

 Because of my hearing disability, I got a deferment for my degree quest because a foreign language was required; so, if I majored in a culture it would count toward language credits; I chose the Middle East. So this is my point of interest. The grain of sand in this metaphor is Israel being the grain in the Middle East's taste for shellfish. Think of the old Ottoman Empire as the 'oyster.' The pearl is forming; the oyster knows that its life is in jeopardy due to those who want to harvest that pearl. For example, a slim majority of the Palestinian population would rather have Israel protect their interest than those who would become the facade of the political system taking control. 56% of Palestinians are against the two-state solution on safety issue. They know that Gaza was at one time a very robust economy; upward mobility through commerce and woman's rights had a rising star in Israel until the US backed off and formed an alliance with Hamas. Israel left Gaza Strip; it is not looking back. Hamas took over with a political theory which is reactionary to say the best. That is as long as you want to be a slave to their religious ideology. The key to understanding the Middle East is based on who has the right to the land, has the right to be counted. This debate is all about who has the right to vote, therefore, who is in control of the government. For example, the whole of the Middle East was made Jewish since 1921. Think WWI and its reconstruction of the Ottoman Empire. Also, Israel was not the only new state formed out of the reconstruction of WWII. The powers to be cheated the Arabs and Sir Lawrence when the territory was divided up into different nation states -powers- just think Saddam Hussein of Iraq. Israel would be so very foolish to believe as the U.S. does that if a two-state solution comes to fruition that all things would come together. Palestine's quixotic history of relevance is but   a divergence away from the truth. If the Ottoman Empire was anything, it was Sunni based in tolerance for those that they controlled. The Sharia forces never owned the land, they were never the government, people of the tribe. Their government was formed out of the 1957 revolution against the Shah of Iran. Another one of the US plunders in Nation State building. These followers are still masturbating as they did when their puberty's pearl craved harvesting.  The Muslin Brotherhood would dub any cape masquerading around with a narrative for your actions. Just think if you blow yourself up for the cause you will be tended to in the next world with four wives waiting on your every pleasure. Casting call! Are you ready for your audition?

Let us dance

I do hate to admit that it seems to me that all the problems in the system of today's governance is spinning around the Maypole of religion. Yes, it seems to me that once you decided that your god -the god of gods- is the true and ever lasting source of enlightenment; therefore, every one else had to prostate to your sense of sensibility. I say remember the inquisition, its tone of self righteous dribble that stained the minds of reason. And by the way it also did stain the fabric of social intercourse to the extent that it is unthinkable to use the term intercourse in any throughway other than the dirty deed of fucking which you just will not take responsibility for. No, your bet is on the myth of heaven and therefore you want to waste your moment and the moments of others with the rubbish of redemption. So, let me offer up another side bar to consider: It is all about giving your brain the opportunity of moving beyond the small family of prejudice that spawns such superstitious trash. Yes, try and recycle those experiences of youth into some thing other than your juvenile assumptions hiding in the dust bolls under your bed. I say stop masturbation and star copulating so that you can come to grips with the pleasure of your mind 's fertile imagination.         

Friday, April 25, 2014

Yesterday's... Monday morning of rememberance.

Monday's Monday is one of the powers that binds into your psyche. You know it because you had been there before, hopefully learning from past experiences.  Some of my Mondays were wonderful, please do not misunderstand me, but that Monday morning -April 1, 1989, April Fools' day, that day was not a joke for me. It was my birthday present. The state of SC helped some very bad, yet influential people, steal my birthday that year, 1989.  By any stretch of any imbeciles you choose to reference, SC has deliberately stolen every day of my life; this will continue until I die all because three women joined in the conspiracy. The deal was some where around $350,000,000 dollars. Yes, it was a loss, but the biggest loss in my estimation was all my own fault. The year was 1981; it was another one of my very own birthday presents. Only, this time it was all about the coke. I was out of coke and out of control during the DC shut down brought down by Hinckley's attack on Regan. This was a playing the game, southern style. That weekend four of us flew out of Myrtle Beach, SC, stopping off along the way so to amuse, assure the powers to be that their whims are too sacred to shuffle by. There was a point to be made, so we landed the plane and went off to taste the barbecue put out at some joint Richard was fond of. Talk about expensive barbecue the sandwich's cost was not on the table. Believe it or not, there are costs to landing and taking off from an airfield. But, when you are flying on Jack Daniels and cocaine who gives a fuck. The only down side is when you are out of coke. We were just getting started, next stop NC basket ball, Richard was a fan. It was my birthday and he was having all the fun. Next adventure is gambling; we flew off the Atlantic city, NJ and I ended up giving Richard the grand I had on me; yes, he lost that too at the tables. But, he was good for the money.He gave it to me when we got on board in Myrtle Beach. The problem was the young lady who wanted to do lascivious things to me was upset when she found out she went into my room and not Richard's room. He had tapped me out. She came back to my room with her equalizer; his buddy on the front desk was with him and open up the door. I was never so lucky for I had placed the door's safety chain on; this stopped the deck clerk's participation at her attempt to get at me. Who knows what could have happened, not good for me, anyway. We finally end up in DC; this was the deal of a lifetime, putting together the vacation program for the AFL-CIO and its members. The deal was based upon the line -the assurance to the insurance- that a union member's family deserves the family vacation. I made that presentation to the union in Boston, MA. and their legislation council for the union signed on to program. But that was before I fucking crashed on stage in the Shoreham hotel where the AFL-CIO was having their conference, and Tip O'Neill, Speaker of the House, was giving his remarks to the union representatives about his hopes for labor. I was the gift that failed because Richard ran off with the coke.

Thursday, April 24, 2014

Then... I died.

The only tenderness in my life came from the streets. My environment was brutal; my streets lied to me and some said they loved me. It was a sexual revolution fostered and parented out of WWII. They came back from the war liberated in victory. The G.I. bill was their ticket to ride. Life in the streets was robust to say the least. For me it began in the barber shop where my grandfather worked. He was one of those who missed the revolution. One day walking home from work with a six pack under his arm, he dropped dead just as he was turning the corner onto his own street. He lived just two houses down on the right hand side of the street; I lived on the corner where he died. Life went out to those ones who wanted it. That was a bad corner after that for me because they beat me up emotionally in my house -some kissed me on the street- others abused me. But, my favorite ones informed me, educated me on how to be a critical thinker on a confused stage leaving many failures along the way. I'm old now so things are different because I process like a book -keeper, not like a gate -keeper. Maybe it would help to understand the difference between the two points of view by looking at what the South thinks about their 'position;' Fascist in nature comes to mind. Some say that it's Southern arrogance based upon the second child syndrome. No, I'm from the East where the only thing that counts is the deal; life is a commodity which needs servicing; you are the force- it is your effect that counts. How effective will you be- that is the question. It's never about your position because everyone knows that a guy with a weak chin also has a beard to mask its perceived lacking. And by the way, I know because I am chinless and lip-less. I never smile because I'm mouth less; but I do laugh on occasion. It is all about being politically, meaning religiously correct. For example, those who were baptized via 'position' are guaranteed access to heaven - remember the Papal Bull.  And, oh yes, Saint Francis is back; he is sitting on your assurance of ascendance. 

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Herd or Heard, what gives? they sound the same.

I like playing around with a word and its sound and meaning. The letters you use to spell out 'time' or 'emit.' These two words have the same letters; it's the interpretation of the letter string or the word and its meanderings, what the letters spell out. The same four letter spell out a different word. Some words sound the same but their letter string is different, like 'herd' or 'heard' which sound the same but have different meanings. 'Herd' is a coming together of the cows; when they do, the only sound that you 'hear' was the sound of the 'herd.' So listen to the sound of the herd and tell me what you hear. For example, the anomaly of the 'd' when ending or finishing the letter string. Do I 'd' or not? Let us ponder the thought. OK? Heard -hear, So, what is this "d" all about? I'm not sure, it could mean "daddy" to some so I'll go along with the flow. For example,  the US is in a situation over the billing it made for cattle raising on government land. In this situation the farmer fed his cattle and refused to pay his legal share which was $ 1, 000,000 dollars; he had a 'heard or herd' of cattle. But, he also had a cow mentality. Thinking that he was an individual unto himself, not the state. Now I venture to say that the cow is only a cow when he is being consumed, a piece of meat on someone else's plate. Otherwise, he is a member of the 'heard or herd.' This gathering of people -who feel as he does- are protesting against the government for doing what the government is mandated to do under our system of laws. I also believe that the cows believe that this cause of theirs will manifest its self into a ' herd or heard.' Now this 'herd or heard' is something that I can join. This is my type of cow gathering. Quiet would be nice so that I could hear and discern the merits of the situation. What is the cow listening to 'hear'? Is the individual listening?  Also, "d" could stand for 'dilettante.' Sort of how some feel about the merits of God's unfurling. As in, how are things going in their life? To me, the 'dilettante' is a false face on life's potential; they hear it all; just like Putin of Russia, they manipulate their stage to consume. They feed you what they want you to 'hear' so that you graze together as a groupie, herd. So maybe this is what it is all about, you each went to a pile of cow dung an harvested a golden mushroom- happy camping.     

OpeNing -emotion or clOsiNg -silence

When you lose your memories, you lose their tangential affects upon the ability to function as if you had not lost your experiences, memories. Memories are past situations from various encounters with the environment. Now coming into the situation is what it is all about. Being a part of the interaction allows you the opportunity for growth so it is unjust to prosecute when opportunities were denied; there does not seem to be any sportsmanship in that mind set - knowing that there are many cultures mixing in this population, each socializing threw their customs. They may all visualize something different when they hear the sound of a ping. The ping is what I hear when I'm in time -travel. In mind core therapy your visual and auditory senses are stimulated;for example, the head set gives your ear the ping and the goggles give your eyes the flashes of light. The pings and the flashes oscillate and ungulate to a controllable porthole in my mind's eye. Einstein call it the worm holes.  How do you listen for the ping? When it comes at you, just maybe you are preoccupied with life's -day to day- to resonate the differences in between the pings. For example, if I may, I would like to connect the movie "planet of the Apes" and its human population of felons being enslaved because they are different from the ruling elite Apes. A military society with a powerful industrial complex geared up on the zero sum game of resources. Sort of like it is in your happy neighborhood. where the felon can not get a job because of the "Scarlet Letter" attached to his presence, to help ward of their evil spirit. The question is how do you communicate your needs to the jokers in charge of the gate -the gate keeper. Maybe upon the joker's reflection, as the old joke goes, there are two kids playing along the river's bank, one Ape kid -one Felon kid, each skimming rocks along the river's surface.  Remembrance of reconstruction politics in the early days of the old slaver's mind coming off the civil war between the states.  The Apes' rock skimmed out its ping as -chm-pan-zee; the felon's rock skimmed out -do-re-mi. One sounds like it is rap, the other rather classical, i.e, this space in between the rap and classical is the world of cognitive dissonance within and between social levels, classes.   

Thursday, April 17, 2014


Nothing, or maybe something, is in the pipe line. Why do I say that? Well, Steve told me this morning during brain core stimulation that I had a lot of brain activity; he did not say that it was good brain activity. Jinny told me that my urine's scent has changed since my therapy, effluvium.  I'm in brain core therapy because my beta is burning way too hot. When it is in the pipe line you may not be sure if you are to "shit or get off the pot." I think that I'm just passing gas, effluvium. Maybe this is why I blog, effluvium. What I'm hopping for is that this effluvium of my mind's transition will help facilitate my time-travel. Traveling back in time in an out of body fashion. Since therapy, I started to occupy the experience, displacing my own space. What was my role in these past experiences of mine? Did I want to be me at that moment; or, was I just surviving as I was waiting around while life was unfurling its mysteries? To me it is a thing about socialization of thought; when I was evolving out of Boston, MA, I was in a free fall away from my shame; shame of being me. Tangentially, I was not consciously aware of this shame when I was in my Boston metamorphosis. No, this shame came out of my travels back through time to when I was not freely occupying my own space because I was constantly in the survival mode, or using drugs to alter my state of consciousness. So, let me warn you about turning over a fallen leaf: Why did Adam and Eve need a leaf to cover up their genitals? Was it because someone said, "size matters?"

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Immortal's fungus

 Let it be said that it was a tradition for some to dig under the cow dung to pluck the mushrooms that grew there. Hint, think "Alice in Wonderland," you know, the place where Michael hangs out. Now for the story, I was in Peshawar, W. Pakistan. I was in the military. I got the "dear John letter" from the girl I left behind with the diamond ring inside; it came registered mail.  So I placed it in my safe; it was a top secret safe on a top secret installation in the middle of Tribal Territory during the Pakistan and India war of 1965. Security was high because of the mission, the spying of Russia. But when I reported the diamond missing to security, little did I realize that I too would be a suspect. Let me tell you what I think they did to me. I believed the military -the NSA- interrogated me and used drugs -creating a rabbit hole to gain access to my mind to discover if I was lying about the missing diamond. Also, I believe they wanted to know more about my relations with Pakistan's military government. This is what happened: I was set to go on a courier run up to Kabul, Afghanistan, as armed escort for the courier coming up from Karachi, the old capital of W. Pakistan, on the Indian ocean. The incoming courier's guard, Edwards, gave me a pill to pop because it was going to be a long night; it was supposed to keep me awake and alert. But for me, it was lights out. I never made the mission and no one ever spoke to me about it. So Edwards, the courier guard, either drugged me because he wanted to continue on to Kabul for his own lascivious purposes, or it was the Government. I knew Edwards; we came over together on the same transport; he stayed in Karachi; I went up to Peshawar. When you run classified material like I did, you flew PIA airlines. I was flying all the time. Karachi was my stop. It did not make any sense that Edwards did anything other than carry out orders.  No, I believe the Government thought that it was some kind of a coverup on my behalf because of my connection with the Pakistan security forces. Khan and I were playmates of the night in the "tribal scene" of fuck-ups; I had all of the accoutrements he needed; he had the key- he was the gate keeper to all of the pathways I wished to open. We were a marriage made in the "bushes"as they say. Now, for the side bar, all this came out in therapy several years ago, but I do I believe it to be true. The day that the diamond went missing I forgot that I showed the diamond to one of the wives on base; I believe that she was there because she was a kleptomaniac; she took the diamond out of the box, and closed the box before she gave it back to me, but I never made the connection. I never looked to see if the diamond was in the box; I just put it back in the safe. I had been sure that Clyde was behind the missing diamond; he held me in contempt because I would not recognize his position as -man in charge. Although, I jumped the gun when I assumed that maybe he had gotten the combination to the safe and key to my work area from the ranking NCO in charge of our operation. It was me; the dung that the fungus sprouted from; it was my prejudice giving of the mushroom its kick; or maybe, it was because Clyde was from the South, and I was from my mother; it is all about socialization. 

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

How dare you!

OK!  You piss someone off; it was one of your many unintended consequences leaving someone else to take the fall. So you try to figure things out, but you do not remember the moment in question. It is too late to think anyway. For example, it is a fallacy in logic for you to affirm anything using a given consequence. You cannot use the consequence from some past event to affirm the antecedent of a future event; it is illogical. There is no logic behind spite, though. Spite is seen as something done out of revenge even thought there is a cost for doing so. Because, when you are being spiteful the only think that counts is being on the positive side of zero sum,  You accept the taxation for your need, revenge; even if in the future, it comes back to haunt you. Yes, spite is all about mental rape, fucking up their psyche. Spite is all about destroying someone's environment, making someone else squirm in their own deserved cesspool. Spite is the moral high road of the twisted amongst us, using their contrivances about whatever context is at hand. Spite took your actions personally; therefore, there is a penalty to pay. It's spite laying out the punishment for others to carry out. You will hurt; you will know that you were hurt; this is the message of spite. I know that you know what I mean; you have seen others fucked over by the proverbial stranger. It is the conspiracy theory. For example, your secret about being gay is out in the public domain; you do not know who outed you. You are fucked because you lie on your employment contract. Now you are jobless or missed another promotion. Your friend- you fucked his wife without permission- tells the IRS that you have not been paying your taxes on that off shore bank account of  yours, a little spite there -don't you think? And this, all because your friend used to be your wife; she knows where all the shit is buried. So much for a three-way bi-way performance.  

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Having a good time : < }~~ 0 ~~{ < :

At my expense, it is my life. I did not create the stage. I'm the understudy in this adaptation; I must learn my line so to assure others that I'll be there for your pleasure if anything interferes with today's performance. I'm studying for the part about the 14th Amendment to the Constitution of the USA. There is this thing about the 5/8 status of the slave; the slave got liberated and he needs a new value base upon equality, 8/8 or a full member of the population. Another thing, if everything is a commodity, than the money has to flow from the individual to the federal government, from the federal government to the state based upon its population. A side bar to this is that some states put more money in to the federal treasure than they get out, plus some states put in less than they receive from the federal treasury. For example, MA put in more than they get back; SC receives more money from the federal government than their citizens contribute to the federal government. There is also some hidden agendas that have to be taken into consideration, like it was SC and its political quagmire that cause the revolution and a war between the states. When looking at this role, it seems to me that SC has been somewhat inbred politically. Because SC was defeated on not one front but two: they lost the war; they were forced into the construct of reconstruction, a political form of governing, where the exslave could perceptively be the governor. Today's play is a reflection upon the construct of reconstruction, its foibles. It seems that SC has gone from slavery as a commodity to felons as a commodity: For example, based on our tax system, each person has a cash value which is paid into the system on their behalf. Think Charleston, SC. Or Charleston County. Local and state governments get a distribution of federal monies based on population. Now if they move the felon out of one area, they move the money too; I think of this as a way for the elites to shift their political capital from one area to another along with the location of the prison, its location.  Now, the local government gets to use the felon as a way to bloat the population numbers of their community, even though the felon has no status. And where does the state system put these prisons; they put them in areas that have lost their industries; furniture companies come to mind. To understand how this came about let's travel back in time to when the south was dealing with the issue of slavery; they wanted to count the slave as 5/8 of a person, the value of a slave in the redistribution of federal funds going back to the states. The 14th amendment came about to rectify the full value of the slave when he was emancipated. So the south came up with the idea of turning the "slavery" system into the "felon" system; business as usual goes on in the southern sense of socialization. The tipping point of power comes in when you count the vote. If you are a felon you are not counted; you are harvested by the state.You are fruit, as they say, the cash that the federal government allots the state for your incarceration, shifting the felon away and taking his negative vote, the -felon- cannot vote for my opposition. 

homework's...traveling through time!

It's called traveling through time; I just love it; today I went back to when I was about 12 years old. Two of the boys from the neighborhood were meeting in the basement of tp's house when I dropped in. They were all worked up over some kind of rumble they were thinking about. Cullen took his belt off and sharpened his buckle down to a razor's edge. Shit; we all did it! Today I witnessed a very dumb thing about myself; I never understood what the consequences of those actions would have brought about if we had followed through with the plans at hand. Fuck -how stupid- yes, today in my time travel I saw how fucking dumb I truly was. Anyway, this program of neural feedback allows me to influence my own convergence towards a more meaningful confluence with myself and the many "rabbit holes" in my future.

Friday, April 11, 2014

here.....hear..... ;o)~

Yesterday she said, "It is all about me"; that is what she said; "I'm egotistical." I cannot believe this. Now she has changed her mind. Today she said that egotistical might not be the right word because I have become more considerate of others since we first met. No, I just have to think that she and I are different but she has not realized that as of yet. I think that she must think that I think like her; I'm a "guy" person, not a female. She cannot think that I can be anything other than what nature intended me to be; meaning I'm a guy. I'm not a guy's guy; that is for sure. Fuck, I'm not even a me -guy. What I am is a guy that is lost in his own journey. Now I think that she thinks that I'm supposed to be a Catholic -guy. I'm supposed to serve before I consume. Let others have a fair and balanced opportunity before I attempt to consume it all. Other than her there is no one in my life; on the other hand, she is the mother of life's incarnate: She has a truck -load of people in her life, like the ark that Noah had to construct so that he could evenhandedly save the animals; she saves mankind. I believe that she thinks that if I do not change my ways that it could reflect badly upon her as if she has to take the brunt of all my projections upon life's stage. She is woman; I am guy who is being set up not to get on Noah's new boat. What do you think about it? Will Noah let you on his new boat or are you a guy like me destined to swim the entire distance?  

Beta abating....?

My beta is running hot; Dr. Steve, my brain's fixer upper, thinks that I need a moment with someone who might help my psyche, another therapist. The "poor boy" will learn that it is its it. It has been twenty five years in the making; I do believe my brain's construct is what it is. For five years the system sentenced me to therapy for sexual deviant behavior. Think about it for a moment; you just got out of the joint; you need space so that you can find some sense of equilibrium. And the system turns you over to the cuckoo's nest. And every session -weekly, you get to listen to people dump all over you. That is right; you have to sit there and listen to the delusions that these poor lost souls have to endure. I would come out of those sessions in such a depressed state of mind. They wanted me to uncover the deep dark devil living inside of me, the devil that made me do it. That is what they wanted me to talk about, what was it that made you to want to do such a vile thing. No one ever thinks that you are innocent. If, you think that you are innocent, then the system will label you as being delusional. Why is this so? Because, you are in therapy; this is the world of labels. Within those five years I had many therapists; each one processed me according to their mind's eye; the labels mounted up, so that today, I can boast that I'm all over the board. For you see, my labels say that my labels have labels; that is how disturbed I am.  Anyway, I have Debbie's Corner to go to if I have an itch that needs to be scratched. Plus, Steve's problem is that he has to find a way to shut off my hot -beta. 

Thursday, April 10, 2014

$1,000.00... a southern sex scandal.

Let us talk about my trial. OK. One of the witnesses lied to the jury; she testified to the jury that she met me at the Yachtsman the afternoon in question; she did not because I was with a  amateur hooker. She never met me like she testified to in the trial. I remember that day because that afternoon is what this story is all about: this is what I had in my pocket the morning that I went to pick up B.N.: I was going to prepay her the commission she could earn upon completion of any contract for timeshare/whole ownership. I was supposed to pick her up that morning and take her to a resort property on the beach which was under federal receivership. This was the property securing the red trading weeks for sale. But no, she was to busy. She  said, "Take my daughter down town to the midway" which I did. Now by chance, this is also where I live, directly across the street from Mother Fletcher's, the great den of sin; this is where I let her (the daughter) out and did not see her the rest of the day. And if my memory does not fail me, her daughter had a reputation of getting in trouble at Mother Fletcher's, on their teen dance day. The proprietor of Bodo's on 8th Avenue North told the daughter to call her mother up on the phone so that they could tell her that if she did not come down and get her daughter right now, they were going to call the police. They did not appreciate her soliciting,  her actions, as she was with the tourist. I was not there then; I arrived as she started screaming at her daughter, for the humiliation it was causing her. They -Bodo's-  said that she was acting badly and it was their family restaurant. Back to the story: I was going to give her $1000 for her financing. I offered up a little honey since she had told me on many occasions that for her, it was all about the money. And the "Printer," the man in town who owned the printing company had put up the money.  He had printed the flyers advertising time shares on the beach, and figured he would get his money back. The flyer was going out on the boxes of Dominoes piazzas being sold in Myrtle Beach. It was the flyer for the East West challenge, my advertising program to help promote timeshare resales along the beach, Myrtle Beach, SC.  We would be the cheapest place you could go and buy into the time share fantasy.  Anyway that is why I had the $1000 in cash. She never got the chance for the offer because she did not want to take the time; I kept the grand in my pocket.  So I know that she perjured herself because I was with a lady of the "time" - "if you have the money honey, I have got the time." She also had party favors; we got down you might say; Why do I remember this? I remember this because I'm a terrible piece of ass unless I'm coked out. She got $500 out of the $1000; I got her and the coke. She came into town to party and have someone else pay for it. She knew how to do this; she had to have the party favors. I bought half of that bag of hers that afternoon and shared it back with her; the best piece of ass, it was marked into my brain. I'll never forget that piece of ass. So, she can not convince me that I was somewhere when I was not; I was not behind the Yachtsman  that afternoon. No! She perjured herself  out of spite and money; rumor is she was approached by someone who wanted me out of town -a southern sex scandal.      

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Charlie Yeo.........yeo man.

 We all know that the "fix" is in, only if you do not get caught. And this is the theme: when you live life outside of the neighborhood, your comfort zone. Well then, you should know that you are going to get caught because you live by the instinct of self best interest; this is where life becomes gray. Not the gray matter between your ears, but for sure, it is similar. Because, you are here in life to be creative, yet you are not always truthful unless you believe in what others told you to say. For example, you are selling greed; you believed in what the leprechaun told you to say about the greed;  because you work for the leprechaun, and he promised to make you rich. Welcome to America, the shining world under the star on top of the hill. That reminds me of another myth - this is the urban legend about three kings who are looking for the leprechaun being born under the big star in the old world, not like today in the new world order, America. This was the leprechaun Jesus; and his followers are not so sure either about their understanding of how the "fit" will work for them. New world or old world self best interest will win out only if you do not get caught, one hundred percent of the time. Now since I'm not a leprechaun, I'm not selling you any insurance against your way of life because you live in a cesspool. Systems that govern are all cesspools made up of political actors who control the power to govern. You gave them permission to fuck all over you when you subjugated your vote to those actors who live in the world of self best interest right alone side of you. You just do not live in their neighborhood. You can not see their house form your house. Or, for what ever tidbit of information this means, you can not see their house from any other house in your neighborhood.  PS. When I was young, it was Charlie Yeo who lived across the street from my house; I'm dam sure you can not see any actor's house from his house -Yeo man.

Monday, April 7, 2014

Pirates' joy...It's all about status.

So the Devil said,  " It never hurts to stack the deck." And what a deck it is indeed; pick up the paper, any paper professing to be the rag of the day. There you will find out about the bottom line, death or near death on every slice of whatever it is that you slice and dice to cull your share. In the old days you could find a good democracy on board any one of the vessels scavenging off the coast. Yes, that was the pirates' way. Today it is only one of those fleeting fantasies that you out there in blogging land want to hold onto so you too can go to the islands and establish a tax free way of freeing yourself form helping those that are less able to function due to their status or lack of it in this new world order. Give me what I want when I want it; I want it to be tax free because I earned it you see with only a little bit of help from my family. Our way or the highway has been here since the good old days when the family deemed what the good old days were all about, before the dirt under your finger nails started to sprout some form of mischievous idea about equality. Walk the fucking plank if you do not want to sail with me; this is not the good ship 'lolly pop' where you have a say about how things work; I choose the port of call; you tend to the rigging. This is my deck, you see.  

Dancing the..."Can Can"...I knew I could.

 To be or not to be formal is another circus under the "big-top." I say to be informal is a good place to start: is only formal about your privacy; otherwise, the "fix" is in. This is the stage of yes, not the stage of no. Your Easy Side is "our easy side." It is all about yes you can; it's  dancing the "can can,"go see if you can. This is seeing if you can get justice out of the system; it's not a quixotic aspiration; it's social justice. Getting your needs met is very iffy for an inmate when he is not grounded. The basic four(4) foot square that you might consider your is never owned by the inmate; the space that he occupies is rented space and each step he takes is coveted by another inmate trying to get his needs met.

Now for the story about teaching inmates how to want to learn when the environment's choices are stunted. We are dealing with roughly 1250(+ or -) inmates who are all in their own orbit moving in and out of a steady diet of mayhem. It's an environment of quicksand; each moment's calamity sucks you deeper into another quagmire vetted with its own unique demons. Now here is the trick: allow the brain to find its image amongst others; this will allow the mind to settle down, allowing the brain to develop a new staged environment in its mind so that the inmate can mature. Teaching the inmate how to be a learner, not a mimicker, will assure him that his brain can come up with a viable solution to life's problems because he can communicate within more than one range and domain - critical think. You do this through stories; stories that are relevant to the inmate; stories that will help the inmate to move more freely around inside his own imagination. The "icicle garden" is very sophisticated, yet at the same time very primal; it all depends on the circumstances, or situations at hand. For example, vocabulary can be a game changer, teaching an inmate that there are words out there that will describe what he is trying to say to himself. This vocabulary will help his mind to be more quiet because it fosters assurance, therefore hope. If you wish to get one of our "social justice"  t-shirts "just e-mail us at

Sunday, April 6, 2014

"the bill"

There is no way to pay back the cost of services. The favor that serendipity brought about. This is what you want to discern so that you are not negligent in your responsibilities to pass on to others the synergy of your debts; as they say, "pass it on."I believe that it is a waste of energy to project my own shit; when it happens it has its tangential habit of retrofitting back on itself, creating more garbage. What about you? Have you ever considered the consequences of your negligence? What is negligence? It's your "shit" composting because you are not a redeemer. But, you find comfort in it anyway. So, now you too kick the can down the road until you need redemption. Side bar: I have to tell you this story. I was president of a small bible school, Pecos Valley Christian College in Roswell, NM., on the way to being consequential, yet not getting there. One of the staffers said to me that he was a  Southern Baptist; he was baptized, therefore, the fix was in. The question I asked him was: Don't you think that you are taking an advantage of this situation, the womanizing. He made no connection between his "fix" based on Southern Baptist -baptism, and how he conducted himself. So! Back to the story of when you are in need of redemption: You have no shame because you do not think about it; you know it; you are not open to thinking about its interconnected synergistic values. For, if you did, you too would be asking for redemption; so, I think that you think that what it is all about is believing in the urban legion of the -papal Bull. It came out as one of the reasons over the Protestant Reformation; some believe that it caused the reformation. In reflection: it is better to own a needle than scissors, because the needle can mend the tear. Scissors can only make a permanent separation never restoring it to being whole, like the needle. "The needle can stitch two halves back together; making a "whole" so that you can crawl through and escape with your new $500 dollar get out of jail quick card.

Saturday, April 5, 2014

today's .....?

You are not going to believe this but this is the first time that I lost a blog. Right!  It was there and than it was gone! I had a blank page in front of me - this page that I'm writing on now,  just a moment ago it was a partially completed blog. I was blogging about the three legs, stools of the system, like the chair metaphor. There was Law, Order and Church each a separate odoriferous force; when all three come down upon you it is pungent to say the least. Yes, the question is how to fight back when their spin is a negative enforcer to foster hate upon yours truly. If they would allow me to publish my side of the story, my situation would surely change for the better- theirs not so well because their stench runs very deep indeed in this particular context. Anyway! When you are a political prisoner -that is me; you are shut off from society's market place; Therefore, you have no income. If the courts will not listen to you, what do you do? I say, "You form a labor union for those felons who have been denied access to the market place of life's dreams." This is a labor issue; there needs to be a union's force on the table before there will be any attempt at social justice.  Now, if I were a union than I could get benefits for my losses do to the need that society has to deny me my rights of equality. Maybe, I should or could get unemployment for life; non-felons get everything, This is the question: Where is their Christian God? Nietzsche said "God is dead."  Maybe the problem was in the fact that there was anyone out there in the first place that would even follow along with such a shallow force, as demonstrated through its inaction. Maybe, God never existed: I'm wondering  how God will last as the "urban legend."   

Friday, April 4, 2014

"Staged"...suspension of disbelief.

Hey you, file this under carnal knowledge; That is the way we do it; you do understand that if you do not know what to do with information then you file it under carnal knowledge, right! It is the FUCK file. If you want to "set" someone up -match and set- file it in the FUCK. This story is make believe in Charleston, SC this weekend with the bridge run and so much more. They will gather and pontificate about the idealization of thought, yes their thought, not yours. So enjoy the mass baptism of joy, its the trickle down theory. They will let you come into their environment and breath the same air as they do. Please note: they believe that you are a one night stand. They are the drug of choice, not that nonsense, marihuana. They want to get you drunk on their elixir of the day -menu of the day, not marihuana. The problem with marihuana according to the church and therefore the elites is that it will free you from under their control. Marihuana will allow you to discern previously unseen patterns. freeing you to be who you are. Touching the one you are with while playing around in their sand box; tasting those primal urges of yours as you sizzle in their dinning offerings; tapping along with the beat and rhythms of their sensations; toying as only you can; they offer up to you, Charleston, city of angles, fallen angles and -kiss-en cousins to the hells angles, too;  discovering how it is theirs, yet yours alone. Welcome to being one of the elites for the day -suspension of disbelief. What do you say?


It is nothing but a "fucking joke" if you really think that the Supreme Court is working on behalf of you. The 'new world order' is a word string whose subliminal meaning is suffocating society. This is all about power and money: highest and best use of the wiglet, you are the wiglet. You are being fed garbage as if it were to be dined upon; this is all about setting a stage so that the system can "vampire" off you, sucking the life out of you. This is your only chance to see life as if it were worth seeing. You in control of your choices. The problem is quite simple, your choice are not productive; they are unique to you; therefore, jettison that which is yours in favor of the "highest and best use" so  that the elites can play. What I do not understand is this: WHY!  How does the system justify itself?  It does not have to because it is the only system. For example, the system is closing down a Pre-Release center in S.C. - this is where the felon can get a break and a pathway back into society- so that they can buff up on security in the "icicle garden." How about spreading resources around so that each one of us could attain their potential, let me avail myself of the same oxygen that the elites breath. No! The idea of "the new world order" is 'the rich get richer and the poor get poorer" ;that is you.  My idea is Social Justice not Supreme Justice. What I do know is this: the more you take away from the majority in favor of the elites, the less justice you will find for the majority. Key to all problems are through its construct: Your construct is the Constitution, its 14th amendment is equality. Do you get the joke? 

To listen

So today I got my ears clipped. I was in for sensory feedback, inquiring about how I absorb the material so to but me in a better place. So you lay down on a recliner with your knees bent up slightly. There is a computer monitor at the end of the recliner which shows different material like a movie or a puzzle coming together. This is a passive process between the body and the brain; the mind is out in left field. For example, during the movie, the lighting becomes brighter and dimmer on a tangential flow, a confluence of light. That was the easy part because after that it was all about changing my diet. Gluten free. Right! I love to have bran flakes and raisins as a dessert before going to bed. Fuck, what is wrong with it? Bad timing as it is at the end of the day and my body is storing its excess in fat deposits. Than the doc went on to breakfast, questioning the wisdom of oatmeal every morning. From there it was my coffee intake. He wants me to be on the come back trail as a Chippendale dancer. What the hell have I got myself into? And by the way, his recommendation was for me to get it on with a "smoothie."  He said she was so cute. She is a "smoothie" made up of a little bit of this and a dash of that. 

Wednesday, April 2, 2014


That is when it all started. It was April 1st, 1989 -twenty five years ago today- the joke was on me and it is on you now. But for now, this story is about measuring my dysfunctions so that I can measure my task. Meaning: How much energy am I wasting because of the way that I process my assumptions, based upon my stored memories? It's called Beta Dysregulation. On a scale of (1 to 10 ) I'm a negative 7. Now to get this rating, a cap is placed upon your head and it has nodes that read the energy running through your brain; you store information in different parts of the brain; these brain areas can be read through those nodes. Side bar: I'm going to say it is passive aggressive in nature. Back to the story. All I have to do is become someone else. But, because I spent time in the "icicle Garden" you can assume that my brain was traumatized. This trauma is repressed anger because of the methods imposed upon prison life and their affect upon the felon. And it seems that I'm still in prison: hyperarousal related to anxiety. It is typically a consequence of chronic demand on the central nervous system to respond to fear including events and social distress. Like having a bull's eye on you back because you are on the sex offenders registry; this is where a serial killer "want-to-be" chose to pick his targets from last year in SC. Luckily, he was caught after his first murder. This is what the test said after it read my brain waves; it described prison to a tee. 

Tuesday, April 1, 2014's the inner thing.

Remember the Holy Roman Empire: remember the Italian City States.The Holy Sea. Where are they today? South and central America. Who is its it? Pope Francis, my very own patron saint. He is the church's gargoyle coming out of the southern hemisphere with his gathering of the flock. Their bank keeps on growing and their power is exploding on the reigns of Putin's new agenda. Some day the U.S. will get out of the game so that the players can play on. When playing with felons, disregard your own rules; understand what the player's needs are; than furnish them. What you need to understood is that the region and its people are more tribal than they are individual. The U.S. is individual whereas the rest of the world and its populations are tribal in belief. The U.S. is "self best interest" and within this it's a southern thing to be more "position" oriented, a more conservative stance. See this picture; the Gargoyle as the metaphor for the region known as the Middle East readying to bring together a convergence, ideas to the "highest and best use". A new home to come into with pride because you could contribute to the process. Iran's model is so old school, lacking thought. Because they can not get beyond the 11th century ideology.  For example,  Iran has a system of centrifuges, connected in a string of four. The centrifuge has be brought up to the speed of sound, held there over time to have any value. The problem is, if anyone starts the "wobble" in the centrifuge, the wobble will continue like a cancer until the centrifuge shuts down. This is one of the rumors running around town; the U.S. likes putting Iran's centrifuges into the "wobble." What is the "wobble?" It's the moment that the centrifuge goes below the speed of sound. So what is the story line?  It was the settlement out of the war that divided up the tribe's financial system throughout the region and distributed the wealth away from the power brokers at hand. This was their card game. The Ottoman Empire's system was shattered; new powers rose out of the ashes and this caused the turmoils of the day. If the truth be known, the middle east is younger than me. I was born in 1942; 1917 was the year of "the beginning of the end." One last parting short across the bow. Intersect does not run along the "Y;" Iran is a "Y" dominated and its ranges and domains are limited in interpretations, hermeneutics. 


When I was in the "icicle garden" getting my brains raped, I met Williams, another inmate. He offered a safe place to hang for a while: the Jaycees. Yes, he was one of the independent variables. Like Thoreau, he marched to his own drummer.  He was a felon of circumstances beyond his control; the way he carried himself in the joint said that he did not choose to be a felon. He still is a felon. No question about it. But you eviscerate his potential. He could have been one of society's assets, but instead he is an island unto himself scrapping for ever inch of itch he feels. So, just for laughs, let us pretend that there is a God, OK. Now, those who where prejudiced because it suited their needs will have to answer to why. God wants to know why your redemption is false. Side bar: God put you here, her reasons and your lessons. She said I had a purpose for Williams; why did you deny him. Right! Like does She really exist? F.u.c.k! They have no problem because they know that it was a myth put out and about in its day and it took on a life of its own. Now I know that there aew exceptions to the rule of shunning; it helps to come from the political elite's side of the family. You find them doing Oprah. But not the generic felon like Williams. No, a generic felon walks alone; for your redemption program is too hellish to bear. Remember "Tartuffe." Hey!

Confession, maybe not

Confession inside of the confessional booth when I was a young man came along with its own baggage. In this story the confessor's proxies of sexual enlightenment were challenged by the priest within the booth. Taking me into his rectory where he performed his attempt of exercising the devil from the "tulip" budding between my legs. Using his communal kit, he placed two wafers on my "tulip" and than poured wine over them and sucked on my tulip until he sucked the devil out of me; This went on each Wednesday around 3pm for several months. Then he was gone- I went to confession that last Wednesday at the appointed time, 3pm. And went into an empty confessional booth. Now I told this story to the group during one of my many therapy sessions; they did not believe me. They did not believe that I did not know that this was wrong at the time that I was getting my "tulip" sucked on. Now I know that he was not the first person to suck on my genitals, but that is what he called my genitals, to him my genitals were his "tulip" and it was special and  he did not want the devil to misdirect my "tulip's" blossom and that is why he told me that I was special and that Jesus wanted him to help me get through this time of my maturity. Then I told them that my father would take me with him when he went to the steam baths in town, a dim room filled with naked men sitting on slabs of marble with steam being pumped into the room. Yes, they all believed that I was exaggerating my life's stories. Hell, maybe I was. I was in these therapy sessions because the state of SC court's sentenced me to five years of being torched up against purged testimony.  Let me try to help you to understand; I offer up as evidence the fact that the Government freed me from my obligation to pay off my student loans. Believe me when I say that I wish that I could have gotten a job and paid them off, but the government knew that my degree would be useless because I'm a political prisoner as well as a Felon.