The Dreams And Visions Of The Dark Lord Genocyde Blog by LordGenocyde Death Before Dishonor
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Let's clear the air before I begin this. First, let me start off by saying that I'm not going to lay into one side (and rather mercilessly) without laying into the other. Each and every side will become a target if necessary because I feel it's time to say what many have thought but have never taken the time to say. Second, I'm not going to suffer anyone's negativity. I'm going to say what I have to say and then walk away. If you have negative comments, you'll be ignored...period. I can tolerate differences of opinion and even intense (though not heated) debate but nastiness will harm YOU more than it will ME. That's the bottom line. Third, I'm asking everyone to stand down from arms for just a moment. Just long enough to hear what I have to say and give it consideration. Let it sink in. I've come, not to offer a rant bereft of solutions but a striking portrait of how our common goal means nothing to any of us at present and how it can mean something again and how we can rise above, adapt and overcome yet another illusion that surpasses those of Criss Angel or David Blaine. We've all made some mistakes. I'm a rather young guy at the still-primitive age of 28 and my earliest understanding of politics came when Bush Sr. was in office. My dad and my mom were two politically polar opposites. My dad was a staunch Republican and my mom was ardent in her Democrat stance. I remember the first Gulf War scared the crap out of me. I was just a kid and I was hearing stories at the time of some of my friends having family members deployed. Many of them were understandably worried. Some of them were outright depressed and rather distraught. When the first Gulf War ended so quickly, I was puzzled as to why Saddam hadn't been taken out right then. Then, there were more political fiascos behind the first Bush to which I'd been able to bear witness. I saw his now-famous New World Order speech. I saw him disappointingly reneg on his promise of "no new taxes." He'd lost much of the nation's confidence. I remember thinking that the "Clinton/Gore" signs looked promising...note that I say that with sarcasm but I knew we couldn't trust Bush either. I really didn't know what to make of Perot at the time. I spent all of high school under Clinton and, as I became more politically aware (I wish I could thank my History and Civics teachers today), I began to realize that he was dangerous to our freedoms. The more I researched the more I realized that half the things I had been thinking had to be crazy and began writing a lot of it off as conspiracy theory. I knew why our Bill of Rights was important. I just didn't know it was under attack...and I, like many of you, was caught in surprise and completely unaware of the attacks on our freedoms we would face in the years ahead. Perhaps I should have paid closer attention to what Megadeth's lyrics had been saying rather than the headbanging factor of the music. Then again, with age, normally, comes wisdom and clarity. Presidential candidates have become more and more fierce when it comes to eroding our constitution, if not simply brazen about it's eradication. This is where I finally come to the point and I thank everyone for actually sifting through all of the material that I'd written before. It seems that, in the face of an issue that doesn't know political divisions, people are divided over who's best to handle the job. We've had people claim that a democratic candidate, a republican candidate, this person, that person, the other person, is best for the job based nearly solely on party affiliation. Many have vowed that they'll never vote Republican again based on Bush Jr.'s performance and actions, despite the fact that many other Republicans are distancing themselves from his actions and policies. Others have stressed populating the "upper echelons" with Democratic candidates, despite the fact that John Conyers has done the same exact thing that Bush has done...violating the terms and conditions of his office. Both have taken oaths of office only to betray the people, their country, their constituents and their respective words. Many believe that it should be an obvious sign of what happens when we vote Republican based on Bush's many foul-ups. Should it not also be a sign of what happens when we vote Democrat based on John Conyers' betrayal of his most ardent backer, Cindy Sheehan? Some may believe this to be an unfair portrait but let me remind you that both of these respective people have failed to do the job that they were appointed to do and have failed the American people. Both sides have committed injustices of the gravest level and believe me when I say this, Bush's regime has been the most aggressive in ridding us of our freedoms, eliminating most of The Bill of Rights in many ways. In my personal opinion, it would be dangerous to vote against simply to oust the current administration. My prime worry is our second amendment which guarantees us to two things as a safety against a tyrannical government. First, it gives us a provision as states to have a well-regulated state militia made up of it's citizens who volunteer. We had that in our National Guardsmen and women until they were federalized under The Department of The Army and The Department of Defense. The second thing that it did was give us a safety against that very thing happening by stating "The Right of The People To Keep And Bear Arms Shall...Not...Be...Infringed." Still, we are in danger of losing this as well and, while I am opposed to the use of violence, I still say that each and every American Citizen should at least know how to use force to, at the very least, defend themselves. Live to fight another day, if you get my meaning and, if you must be killed, do so doing what is right. For tyrants, this is all they understand at times and, in a perfect world, we would never need that Second Amendment but we do. It has nothing to do with being a barbarian Conservative or "one of those damned" Liberals, it has to do with protecting you, your family and your community. Remember that, when we're presented with two "evils" that there never is such thing as a "lesser evil." Still, this is the way we've chosen to attack this issue within the 9/11 Truth movement as only one example. Many have decided to take it from different viewpoints whether it's part of some conspiracy involving aliens from outer space to religious viewpoints. Fortunately, for the adversaries we face, we are divided and are, therefore, easily conquered. There's the Bad News but I do have Good News! The Good News is that we can still unite. Look at each other. Liberals and conservatives alike, black people, white people, latinos, hispanics, asians, just name a nationality, a religion, a political affiliation...we're all here under the banner of getting answers and demanding that our questions be addressed, a formal investigation be implemented and, getting the truth behind what happened on 9/11. If that's what we're working towards, then understand something...the architecture of our adversary's aggression. These criminals do not hate you because of your race, size, color, gender, party affiliation or which brand of cigarettes you smoke. These lines that have been drawn between us have had their reign...time to let them go. Save your vote for the candidate who will do the work to make sure that the oath of office they've taken holds true. Research them thoroughly and remember, they're your employees...hey MUST listen to you. Remember that these criminals killed nearly 3.000 people and not because of party affiliation or whatever. They did that because they want you living in fear and, when people live in fear, they begin to make decisions that are fear-based...their minds stop working efficiently and thus, we make poor decisions. They did this because those of us they can't control, they'll kill or simply make you wish they had. If we can't unite to save our Republic, we will be divided and we will lose it. This is why I ask each one of you today to really look inward and ask yourself why is it you're here and what do you hope to accomplish? If you're here for the same reasons as the rest of us, then back your candidate at the polls. Just don't expect me to back the same person as you. In the meantime, we have our work cut out for us. Rocking The Police States of America, Damien "Lord Genocyde" Cross
Lately, I've been through a lot. Lots of overtime at work, contact lenses, the new PSP (Playstation Portable), walking, talking, performing street magic, doing shows, planning shows. Just name it, and I've probably done it since the last few entries. Throughout it all, I've been jostled around like a lone barrel in the trailer of an 18-wheeled Semi on the bumpiest backroad known to earth. I've vanished and reappeared more than David Blaine at a Criss Angel convention. I've had what I'm not sure are nightmares. They seem like images of a life I'm not entirely sure are mine. Leave it to the cosmos to come up with an open door somewhere. An ex-girlfriend reappeared. She and I have been in contact before and, if I needed answers, I figured I would find them there. After procrastinating long enough, and suffering a severe case of insomnia, I decided to go to her parents' house where she had been staying. She'd been helping them paint and we'd spoken about it over the phone between dead spots on the road just days before. Finally, I was making the short walk from my house to where she was. I found her parents there and talked with them, mostly about work. The funny thing about that family is that two of the five girls married military guys and then one of the two went into my line of work. Small world...round too. Then, she arrived and two boys popped out of the car with her. One of them 7 and the other 6 years old. I hadn't seen the 7-year-old since he was a baby. He looked at me and locked eyes with me. There was recognition but it was vague. Probably wouldn't have been so vague if I hadn't had to wear shades. In the midst of conversation, I was using the PSP as though it were a photo album, showing off pictures of me and Misty and the various insanity I'd found on the web. The conversation was mostly small-talk. The usual small-talk around groups of people that haven't seen each other for a long time. Most anecdotes are mundane but, when interlaced with a little humor, it becomes somewhat of a decent narrative. The whole thing moved inside. Good thing, considering my skin was crawling. My ex-girlfriend's seven-year-old challenged me to a friendly race already in progress...dirty little cheat didn't tell me I was three laps down. He ended up winning the race that day. Any honest races...I left him eating exhaust and kissing my asphalt. Not bad for an insomniac. Still, any chance he got, the sneaky son of a gun raced dirty. One day, kid, I'm going to sharpen my skills at the drift racing and're going down. In the words of Kurt Angle "Oh it's true! It's damn true!" The kid took repeated opportunities where I'd step away during car selection, knock the race down to one lap and then his little brother would have to get my attention by saying, "HEY! THE RACE IS ON!" Suddenly, I'd rip myself away from whatever it is I was doing and try like hell to catch up. If his kid was anything like his old man, his old man is not one I'd want to take on. If I did though, I might just go down in gamer history. A modern-day Achilles. My weakness...a kid. Well...shit, there's the heel right? Yeah, in more ways than one. The kid publicly humiliated me but only by cheating and we know four things for sure...cheaters never truly win, winners never truly cheat, players never hate and haters never play. The kid wanted really badly to play with my PSP and I felt badly for him because the ex-girlfriend wouldn't let him play the type of games I play and I have only two; Grand Theft Auto: Vice City Stories and WWE: SmackDown vs. Raw 2007. I thought for sure WWE would be innocent enough but I hadn't played it yet and when I finally did over these past few days...I found that she was is pretty risque. The last thing I'm sure she wants to see is her son staring at a digital version of Candace Michelle shaking her ass and leaving suggestive messages prior to matches. If she's reading this I have to say one thing, tell him I'm sorry about that but I'm getting Need For Speed Underground sometime and if he ever gets one, we'll do the WI-FI linkup on the respective consoles and then...he's going down. Hey, kid, I want a rematch! That's when the first of many pieces began to fall into place for me. I remember days spent in this house playing videogames with kids...this exact situation and I was a child all over again. I was a 18-year-old acting like a 15-year-old only I was playing Zelda on the first-generation Nintendo system and other games on a Sega Genesis. I played any challenger. I won some, I lost some but I played and I had a blast...this time was no exception. It was something else that triggered the memory. The way the sun was setting, having all the voices in the background, the laughter, the atmosphere...I don't know but it was there and it was beautiful all over again. I had forgotten how much I missed times like these. After conceding that the kid wasn't going to race me without cheating, I began discussing cellphone technology with my ex-girlfriend's sister. That reminds me that I need to make that ringtone for her. They practically stood aghast as I told them how easy it was to make their own ringtones and graphics and how they could get them from me and transfer them from phone to phone for no money at all. Naturally, I get the carpet-bomb attack of questions of why didn't I go into this type of field and make all kinda money at it. Come to think of it...why didn't I do that? No matter, on and out. The conversation moved outside once again as the crowd in the living room was dispersing leaving only me, my ex-girlfriend and her two boys. This is when I got many of my answers. This is when the rest of the pieces fell into place and when I got the biggest missing piece to the puzzle...a story of when the body I now inhabit. It seems that graduation night, her and I and two friends gathered in my dad's truck, I filled up both tanks and two ice chests and we didn't attend a single senior function except to terrorize them as I was loaded on enough caffeine to kill half the world. All night, we'd drive while having one of my friends reach through the back windshield for a caffeine reloader. As I cracked another soda and killed it in one sitting...we came upon a fog. "Hey guys," I said, "I wonder...what if this weren't just any fog?" "The fuck are you talking about?" one of them asked. "What if it's a doorway to somewhere else," I said, "you what you see in the Twilight Zone." I was the only one who wasn't frightened by my own comment and, looking back on it, perhaps I should have been. We'd travelled a few miles through the fog. At least, I thought it was a few miles. Driving back through it, going back the way we came, seemed much longer. That had the entire truck, save for one fearless psychotic, LOSING it. In grim retrospect, perhaps that was more of a terrifying situation than my caffeine-addled mind could assess. There we were, four friends in an all-steel-construction-body Ford tooling along the highway through the elements, twisted on any type of caffeine we could ingest...good people...good times. Now, here we were, ten years later with me trying to fit the pieces of memories together. We're playing catch up. I suppose I've lived far faster than what I should have. Right out of high school is when I kicked into high gear. I was go, go, go, gogogogogogogogogooggogogogofuckingGO! Not all my experiences doing it were pleasant and some of them were lethal but I can honestly say I ripped into life and took it by the balls, hanging on for dear life and praying I wouldn't be dragged to death, riding that strange torpedo to it's very end for good or ill. I've got the scars to prove it. We left and I walked away, the sun beaming directly at me as it was radioing mission control for it's descent vector and the go for final approach. I walked into the sunlight and when I reached the corner, I turned back and I looked. This time, I did something that I normally wouldn't do. I lifted my shades and let my contact-augmented eyes take it in one more time. This neighborhood looked exactly as it did ten years ago. Not one aspect of it changed. It's still just as beautiful as it was. I walked away with things making more sense. I walked away with a sense of closure on a subject long since past. I walked away, another chapter of my life closed and another one beginning. I stood ready to begin the next phase of my journey. Perhaps the mental hard drive just needed a thorough defragmenting. I felt revived, renewed and ready. Ready for what? I have no idea but whatever it is, if it's hostile, it will find a being reloaded, rebooted, cocked, locked and ready to unleash. In the meantime, I haven't written about it because I've been unable to sit down and focus much these days. I'm still unable to do it. I'm forcing myself to do it. It has to be chronicled and documented. I'm nearly certain that they'll carve on my headstone, "It Never Got Weird Enough For Me." One more thing before I'm out of here, I've got a music player on my blog courtesy of Alfa-Matrix. It's a great way to do premiers. If you want to hear the newest stuff that they have coming's right there on the can listen as you read. The music of The Genocydal Empyre v3.0...on demand.
From what I saw in the video, the claims of him "aggressively" selling his buttons and "getting in people's faces" were all bogus. He clearly conversed only with those who engaged him in conversation and the only ones "aggressively" doing anything was Louise Hamilton. Check out the video first and the article next and ask yourself if this man really posed a danger in the least to society? The most aggressive sales pitch the man had was to the small crowd gathering around him. He asked them all to check out the rest of the Market for themselves and give the others some business. Still, we're asked to endure hundreds of thousands of pop-up ads on the internet and have our computers clog up with adware and we're made to believe that what sales pitches you heard on the video were aggressive...hmmmmmmmm...riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight. The actual charges in this case were trespassing because he'd been asked not to return to past markets. Since the market is public and open to such, McConnell did not need a permit. Hamilton couldn't even tell him who was running it. Shouldn't you actually know if a law on the books exists prior to "enforcement?" I know I do when I'm working at the prison. Activist Arrested In Dispute Over Hot-Button Sales At Public Market By Matt Zapotosky Washington Post Staff Writer Sunday, July 22, 2007; Page C04 The 74-year-old retired mathematician who is fighting Kensington officials over his right to sell buttons urging President Bush's impeachment was arrested yesterday at a farmers market and charged with trespassing. Alan McConnell, who had been selling his "Impeach Him" buttons at the Howard Avenue market for about a half-hour without a permit, lay down on the pavement after Montgomery County police asked him to come with them. After McConnell failed to respond to a request that he "please stand up," four officers each grabbed one of his limbs and carried him to the front seat of a squad car. Alan McConnell says he shouldn't need a license to sell his buttons at the Kensington farmers market, and dozens of supporters protested his arrest yesterday. (By Michel Du Cille -- The Washington Post) Kensington Mayor Peter Fosselman said previously that he would order McConnell's arrest if he showed up yesterday at the market. Fosselman could not be reached for comment yesterday. Montgomery County police Lt. Frank Stone said he didn't know who tipped off police that McConnell was at the market. Stone said McConnell could face a maximum 90 days in jail and a $500 fine if convicted. A crowd of about 40 McConnell supporters chanted "free speech" and booed the arrest. But others said their objections to McConnell's activities had nothing to do with granting him his political voice -- they simply think that he bothers customers by aggressively selling non-farmers-market products. "They keep trying to make it about their political position, and it's not about that," said Kim Kaplan, who began selling plants at the market in June. "It's about the fact that he wants to sell his buttons and get in people's faces when he's doing it." Three weeks ago, McConnell was issued a trespassing warning after being asked to leave the market. McConnell has said that he sold the buttons at the market for months without a license. Last week, Fosselman canceled the market because he was concerned that McConnell's "potentially aggressive" supporters might endanger the safety of customers. On Thursday, two Montgomery County police officers issued McConnell an updated trespassing warning, while a Kensington official gave him a citation for selling at the market without a permit. That ticket carries a possible $500 fine. McConnell got another of those citations yesterday before his arrest, but he continued to sell his buttons for $1 apiece even as Kensington code enforcement officer Louise Hamilton filled out the ticket. Hamilton said the mayor requested that she come to the market to see whether McConnell was selling his buttons without a license. Most of those who were at the market yesterday were there to support McConnell, and some vendors said the hype surrounding him has helped drum up business. "The excitement has certainly brought a lot more people here, but not all of them are buying," said Keith Voight, who sells olive oil at the market. "Hopefully, the protesters today will come tomorrow to buy."
Let's suppose for just one second that your news only came from one source and one source only. Would they be fair and objective still? Would the news media actually ask us to form our own opinions? Starting with a brief history of the internet here. The Pentagon invented it as a form of communication within the military. By the time we got it, it was believed by our federal government and the military that it would be little more than one huge uber-mall. Yep, it would be one of the biggest bastions of the almighty dollar, another monument to consumerism. That, however, was thwarted when your typical high-school nerds learned the language of the computer and found one simple fact; the possibilities were endless. Soon, there were programs geared towards communication. Email took the place of physically writing letters to your friends in distant places. Instant Messengers took the place of phones. Then came chat rooms...the connections became faster, the MP3 file came about, information on anything from any source was available and soon, we even had online this one where we could express our opinions openly and freely. Yes, that's right, we could become our own editorial columnists. Soon, it was like a big damn town hall. For some, it was a means of getting the crap feelings that we have off of our chests. We shared our ups, our downs, our highs and lows, we integrated pictures and video and there were others of us who decided to go where angels fear tread, dig deep and get us the information they felt the rest of us needed to see. Looks like there are many on Fox News that want the blogosphere shut down because they feel threatened. By what? People who are angry about the state of affairs and the state of our nation? Are we now seriously being asked to suppress our opinions? Are we seriously being asked to NOT express our opinions if they relate to a touchy subject? Did we strike a nerve? I think so, my friends and now, all you have to do is look at the evidence to figure this out. Well, I'm angry and I'll say this. To the man who said that "Liberals type" and I'm sure you remember that guy. The day you actually bother reading some of these blogs and actually stop to consider what YOUR CONSTITUENTS have to say...that will be the day that I take your "Liberal" remark as an insult. To the reporter who thought it was dangerous to get such a one-sided opinion when I type something up? Aren't you giving the other side? What are you afraid of? Afraid I might be right? To the woman who ranted about the foul-mouthed ranting going on. Hey, wake up...this isn't your webspace and if I feel like letting the f-word fly, you have two options; keep reading or go somewhere else. If you got offended, that isn't my problem. I refuse to make it my problem. My articles write themselves. You...get over it or get lost. I'm not here to protect your precious little senses. I shake trees and I rattle cages and if there are people calling for the violent overthrow of the government and you don't like that, I've got some advice for you...GO LIVE IN CHINA! Yep, right...umm...HERE it is! Second Amendment which I'll quote in it's entirety as follows: "A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed." I wonder...why was that put in there? Well, two reasons in particular come to mind. 1. Our militias (now known as The National Guard) were meant to be the state's military. Unfortunately, they were federalized and made part of the department of the army. These people were supposed to answer to no one but the Governor and now, they answer to The Idiot Child In Chief. 2. And here was the safety catch...The RIGHT of THE PEOPLE to KEEP and BEAR ARMS SHALL NOT BE INFRINGED. That means that since it was citizens who made the militias in the first place, it is the citizen's place to be armed and ready should he or she be called upon to defend home, family, property, life or state. Yep, citizens CAN get together guns, swords, knives, battle axes, or your weapon (weapons?) of choice strapped to your side, hanging off of you...whatever and, yes, even violently overthrow the federal government if the system of checks and balances begins to break down and the rights and liberty of the people to govern themselves is threatened domestically. By the way, when the military men and women of the U.S. are given the oath to defend this nation and it's constitution against ALL enemies foreign..and might want to be worried less about what I'm saying here and more about when they start to figure this kinda thing out. You might not find them on your side anymore. Damn right, we're angry and I think we deserve to be. Why? Because I see things like John Conyers betraying his constituents, rather brazenly, by having peaceful protesters arrested and then I see things like this...just have a look and this happened in London... Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket Let's insert another little factoid here. Alex Jones and several other protesters to the war and the incoming Big Brother state have actually been approached while in London as they've mounted their own protests and, as I'm sure you'd love to know...they had their information taken and were entered into a database of (I wish I were lying to you but I'm not) "potential terrorists." What happened to these people in the pictures? Good question. This protest looks far from peaceful. Just check out those signs, if you would. These people are threatening violence but none of them faced arrest or terrorism charges for this action. Maybe by incarceration of our own peaceful protesters they hope to send a message to these guys? Yeah, doubt that. Meanwhile, Fox is getting their panties in a twist over bloggers. When I went to school for mass communication, I was taught that each and every reporter MUST get FACTS and present them and let the public make their decisions for themselves. Still, we were being lauded as "future opinion-makers" and I guess I'm the only asshole that saw a problem with this. Or maybe this was more of the irony on top of taking advanced English classes, trying like hell to diagram sentences from Jabberwocky and having to write on a fourth-grade reading level because that's what 75% of Americans read on? Bullshit, not happening. Call me arrogant if you like, but it's not happening. Tell ya what, you want my opinion sugar-coated and edited down so as not to hurt your freakin' sensitive behinds, start paying me copious amounts of money. That's right, set me for life. Hire an editor and publisher. Pay for it if you want it so badly and I'll let them have my worst and they can turn it into a shadow of it's former self. Until then, I'll present what I've got and you'll like it...or not, I could really care right now. Why is the blogosphere coming across as angry...because we are! We're angry that our constitution has been treated like an issue of The Weekly World News after the toilet paper has run out in the bathroom. We're angry that our supposed "opinion-makers" are seriously calling for bloggers to censor themselves or BE censored. Let's go with one more from The Bill of Rights playbook, shall we? Oh yeah, we shall... "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances." Missed that one too? Damn, hate when that happens but I'm always happy to kinda point that out. You know why I'm angry on a personal level? Because instead of hearing about the shit that really matters right now, I have to hear about Paris Hilton, Nicole Richie and Lindsay Lohan ad nauseum. I have to settle for that instead of really digging deep to find out what I want? No, no, no and HELL no! I've already found two weapons that help me fight The War on Terror. First, I get my information wherever it's available and, if I can't find it there, I dig deep. Whatever the case, I get informed. Second...I'm not living in terror. You can have your little color-coded alert system all day but I'm not going to live scared. For those of you threatening freedom (foreign and domestic) have every reason to be afraid and I see that you are. Oh yeah, I and many others like me see you working overtime. We will not be stopped. We have a singular and focused vision. We lead. You'll follow or you'll get the hell out of the way. Put this Manifesto in your pipe and smoke it.
I may not be Ghost Rider but I'm tired, pissed off and I'm taking zero shit...savvy?
Leave it to me to decide to "take on the heavyweight." Dude on The Couch had a project idea for one weekend where he and I would just haul off all the crap in the house we didn't need. No lie, we'd go from room-to-room finding shit roomies past had left behind that we couldn't salvage for anything useful and pop it all into the back of a truck and haul it off somewhere to dump it. Great idea! We slated it for a weekend and I'd take whatever I could by night if Dude would do whatever he could by day. Of course, I'd help in the interim until he went to sleep once I woke up. Cool. Problem...Work had me doing overtime which left me going to bed late. I ended up waking up late as well. Dude already had everydamnthing out of the back where we were looking to start. I was amazed. Thinking that he'd already hauled all that junk off, I set about honoring my part of it. Well, what I didn't know was that he had gotten the junk out of the house, alright...and into the back freakin' yard. I saw it days later thinking, "Great God, Herbert's gonna shit Texas Longhorns when he sees this!" Since then, it's rained, Dude's construction job took him out to Port Arthur and he hasn't been home the past two weekends. Not having his new cellphone digits plugged into my own communicator left us excommunicado for awhile. In short, we couldn't touch all. I've had to fend off people looking for him and then...this. Trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do with all this junk was beyond my own comprehension. Finally, a few weeks later, say, oh, Tuesday Night, I had it all figured out and it was no problem. I composed a list of things to do and had it all committed to memory. Wednesday morning I got home late (overtime again) and, after Misty's wakeup call, I set about calling people. It's no secret I let my yard go to hell but when your bills go on the up and up, your pay doesn't change to reflect a balance to that, your lawnmower's been stolen and you're barely able to eat on your own cash...yep...that means hiring the lawnmower guy takes some serious doing. Especially when you're supporting yourself and practically supporting three other people. With all the calling around done, I go to freakin sleep watching Ghost Rider...great movie by the way, I highly recommend it. When I wake up, there are two messages. One from a guy who saw my name as a grassroots contact on and, of course, the one I didn't want...Herbert the landlord shitting Demonic Texas Longhorns with Satan leading the charge and Pazuzu herding the damned things over the mound behind the house. I called him back and told him what was going on, letting him know I had it handled. Granted, the guy's been patient with me where most really wouldn't have but this dude was talking ejecting my behind in ten days if I didn't do something within that time frame. Sometimes, some people would rather shoot first and ask questions later, getting sand in their vagina but there were things that he apparently didn't get and I wasn't about to explain that to him for the umpteenth time. The guy's delusional if he thinks anyone else is gonna rent this place from him before we're done with it. The next one I call is Dude. This was his bright idea. If he'd told me he hadn't hauled it off yet, it could have been fixed that evening with no problems. We had the truck for the whole weekend for fuck's sake! I explain it all to him. My original plan was to move the mound to the front so he'd have an easier time loading it all up into the truck (which he's supposed to secure THIS weekend and take care of this shit that he so nicely helped get me into) and get the Uber Collectors to come around for the bigger shit. Well, that's not happening, you see, that now-smaller mound is staying right where the hell it's at. I'm not doing shit else with it. Why? Check this out. This is going to explain the picture above. The first thing to be moved was a couch that's been sitting behind the house for the past millennium. I was not made aware that a colony (planet, perhaps?) of fucking ants had settled on the couch and made it a citadel of sorts. Look, that's information that a host like me can use because if a bug bites, it's gonna bite me. Mosquitos, ants, spiders. You name it, it's gonna bite me. I'm not scared of them. I refuse to be frightened of something smaller than me that I can smash en masse. Hell no, fuck that, I'm not cool with that at all. Anyway, I was made very aware when they came out of the goddamn woodwork on one end...the end I needed to push. I had to turn the whole damned thing around. Talk about heavy. This thing was made with one of those hide-a-beds in it. Oh yeah...small task, my half-caste ass! Not only would it NOT be pushed but the ants decided not to let me take it without a fight. Despite the gloves you see me wearing in the pic, they know a ninja's weakness. These fucking things crawled into my gloves and chewed my hands up. Fucking wonderful! It still sucks even an hour or so after the fact but it pissed me off more than it hurt. I ended up taking the chains I use for decor/hanging t-shirts off my wall and using them for what God had damned well intended. That's was time to combine brute force with pure hell engineering. I looped the longest stretch of chain through the bottom of the couch and over the arm, quicklinked that to a short length of chain and quicklinked the other end to a loop that went around my trunk...over the shoulder. Goddammit, I was never a football player. I was never even a wrestler but this thing was going to learn who was the driving force and who was the inanimate object that would move by force or by choice and neither God nor man would stop me and Nature was looking at getting an ass-kicking from me if she allowed anymore damn landmarks to hang it up. It sits at the curb as we speak. I was sweating worse than Napoleon Dynamite in a house of ill repute on a Saturday night while booze flowed like water from a busted dam. Lord Genocyde - 1 Inanimate Objects - 0. Round two consisted of a coffee table that had been falling apart and a chair. Both were heavy as they'd taken on water from the recent rains and the heat and humidity didn't do much to help that situation but I carried them over my damn head while that chain was still wrapped around me and dangled from my upper torso. I'm not sure how it may have looked to the average motorist on the street but they're probably figuring that I'm up to something deviant. This would be the only case I'd contest openly with them. Normally, I WOULD be doing something deviant, Mr. Nosy Motorist Motherfucker, but you see, I can't do that today. Nope, I'm a quasi-human beast of a tow-truck and if you don't watch your ass. I'll pierce your damn tongue with this quicklink and proceed to either pull out your tongue or drag your ass up and down this town for exercise, effectively cancelling my membership to the gym, got that? The last item was a busted washer. My initial desire for this washer's outcome was to haul it off somewhere and use it for target practice but, time simply won't permit that. I found a place to hook the chain and Scorpion dragged it to the front. I had noticed as I was dragging it that it had lost some weight rather drastically somewhere along the way. The weight it lost was it's outer shell. I'd been dragging it's busted insides all the way to the damn curb as the shell sat in my driveway. I've called the city workers (The Uber Collectors) to tell them what they can expect, showing a little mercy on the ant issue as my last swollen finger is almost back to normal, I've called Dude to let him know that the rest of the mound is waiting on him, I've called Herbert to find out he's shitting normally and is quite happy with the progress (goddamn well better be...I've stayed up this damn late) and I'm calling it a damn day with some Wednesday 13 "American Werewolves In London", a beer, some internet porn and then I'mma go take a shower, listen to The Secret Meeting and fucking die for eight hours. I'm curling up in my coffin and woe be unto him that steps into my crypt via phone, text or alphanumeric page. I'll fire my underwear at the first one who tries it. Lord Genocyde - 4 Inanimate objects - 0 Yeah, fuck 'em.

Hey everyone, Ok now I know you haven't heard from our camp in awhile. Well, that stops here and now. First, let me apologize for this rather long wait that you've had to endure. Many know that I left WorldRock because of format and we left it with a fuckin' bang. No shit, folks. Fred marched himself up into WorldRock's world and gave them the hard truth that night. Everything Fred handed them was a hard pill to swallow but after the barrage of hardcore factoids, he came in with solutions. This wasn't just some bullshit rant, full of rhetoric, bereft of solutions. Nope, this was hard, all-out, in-your-face with a killer dose of tactful response and the best part, while he's not an entertainer by profession, he left 'em wantin' more. We hope to set that up quickly. Many of you also know that my monitor had developed a shitty black spot that just seemed to grow and grow and not really get any better. Just when it would get better, it's progress would halt. Even though I really couldn't afford it, I splurged later on and grabbed a desk-hog. Gone are the days of my liberal desk space. But it's ok. I don't need my damn glasses to type and my Matrix screen-saver looks beautiful on this monster. That was the gist of it, we were going to go back on the air nearly immediately but then...well, that's when things got hairy. Everyone was screaming at us for a "version change." Initially, I didn't want to do that and my reasoning behind it was this. When we started out as The Genocydal Empyre on Hear The Pulse radio, it was the title of an old band project that was resurrected, reincarnated and pissed off about getting shelved. The computer and I were the band leading the charge. Well, when things soured between me and the station owner, he made huge claims about suing for the trademarks to "DJ Genocyde" and "The Genocydal Empyre." I told him he could have both if he wanted them. His overall goal was to ensure that no one had ever heard of me and if they had, they would think I was some cheap knock-off of myself. To be honest with you all, the previous incarnation on Hear The Pulse was the cheap knock-off. Due to lack of decent programs, equipment and function, I was basically starting out another Howard Stern wannabe playing metal, goth and industrial. By the time Krush picked me up after I had already thrown it all at the previous station owner...they had heard of me and they were ready for what I had. Still, I had to get the Hear The Pulse stink off me and get out of it's shadow, so I did what any computer programmer would do...I made another damn version. I preferred to see it as Anakin gettin' the Darth Vader technogetup but that's just my geeky ass. Anyway, brief history done, you know how it's gone. We've evolved over the past year or more and now, suddenly, people wanted a version 3.0 (which makes me think that eventually, I'mma just slap a damn Omega symbol at the end of this title to shut a great many up) and basically, after the monitor situation was straight, a shift at work suddenly found themselves with far less manpower than any...or so they claim. The night we'd scheduled our comeback, I'd been drafted to work and rumor has it that a damn scout from one of those satellite stations was tuned in and talking. With that in mind, I've let work know that the raise we just received is now of little comfort when they start pulling that bullshit ambiguous "institutional need" shit on me. When they rolled that one out on me and I saw that the team actually had more than enough people to cover everything if they'd just use some friggin' efficient thinking, I could have decked someone for that. Everything got shelved. Promotions, work on the myspace and cherrytap sites, contact, the low-budget film...all of it. We decided to take a vacation. The stress was piling up and the more we thought about it the more we came to the conclusion that we were making a huge deal out of nothing and adding more stress onto us. This was supposed to be fun and lively. This was my escape and it was turning into my job. When we finally came back on the air, we did three impromptu shows (those playlists will be included for a total of five.) The first show was on CherryRock (Simion's channel) and we were met with a great reception. I was already in sort of a negative mood and when I took the air (as Simion was ranting and raving about me being his "mentor" in this business) I decided to piss as many people off as possible. It backfired. Except for one no-talent, no-personality assclown who decided, vocally and rudely, that I should be bumped in favor of him. First, I've never heard of this asshole whom I'm now referring to as Mr. Kennedy (those of you that watch wrestling know who I'm talking about) as he's that inconsequential. Secondly, if I'm already ranting, don't make yourself my target. Third, don't make yourself my target when 99% of the total listenership is already agreeing with me. Mr. Kennedy violated all three rules, causing himself to have a whole lot of angry as hell goths, metalheads, punkers and industrialites unload on him as well as me. Later on I took a look in the mirror and still see no concern for that moron. Look, I'm not made of glass. My ego is not easily shattered but when I'm on the air, I'm using it to my advantage and the advantages of everyone aboard this motherfucker. Stand in the way, you get run over. I've got no time to waste on idiots. Those of you receiving this letter can count yourselves among those who added the weight in to the machine that crushes puny fucktards like that and I'm glad to have you aboard. The second show was on KrushRadio, albeit delayed, and we discovered something after doing the Tales From The Weirdside segment. First, I labelled the goddamn segment wrong and second, this shit was fun again. Now, I could be as nasty as I wanted to and take direct potshots at whoever just irritated the hell out of me (Namely Paris Hilton) and play all the killer music I love the most (Like the stuff you wicked fuckers send in.) Despite a few hitches, it went well. The third show was tonight, Darkside Radio. Towards the end was total annhilation. Misty and Dragonblaze called in so that we could talk about movies and the conversation disintegrated leaving me screaming in frustration on the air...literally. Not much there to report but the impact crater of the show is still there, the loyal fans are still tuning in and the best part is, I'm saving the really important stuff for when we begin rolling this machine with some regularity again. I'm still in talks with CherryRock about possibly doing a show there as well. Who knows what the future holds. Ok, that is the good news and in summary: 1. We've upgraded. 2. We'll be "versioning" again later so we never have to do it again 3. We're still just as well received after our long hiatus. The bad news: 1. We're like Vista...still buggy 2. We're still on the rotational schedule. 3. We're still waiting for that rotational schedule to be a thing of the past. We're working on that part. Now, my creative outlets have expanded a bit. I've also been doing some tie-dyed T-shirts (or at least trying my hand at them) and you can see the results here with full photos and please save the Geno-dyed have no clue how many times I've heard them and don't worry, I haven't gone all hippie or anything, I just love tie-dyed t-shirts and it's been awhile since I've had one so, I decided to screw about with colors and see how they came out. You tell me what you think. Most of them still aren't done yet and the thing is, even though I haven't officially opened up a business and this was mostly an experiment, I sold one for $10 my second day of doing them. It was a tank top that got dyed. I'm thinking of selling some later on though, just for some spending/smoke cash. You know how it is these days. Anyway, I'm not gonna sit here and bore you with my bullshit any longer. I know what you're wanting to see...playlists, right?! Ok, well, here they are...keep in mind I don't have the dates on these but these were the last five I did. I'm gonna get more on a regular schedule later on. Again, I'm sorry about the long waits and the silence from this end. I just didn't want to send out a newsletter when we really didn't have any news. Thanks for hanging with us though and thanks big time for all your patience with us as we went through some terrible times. One thing before I post the playlists, for anyone wanting interviews, (I know we have a SiNDADDY repeat and Fred Brito threepeat in the works as possible leads) let us know and we're more than happy to do them because right now, our schedule is open and work hasn't been asking for volunteers to work our days off lately. (Playlists Truncated For Public Posting) Again, guys thanks for all your patience in all this and thanks for, again, listening to someone who can amount to the poster child for A.D.D. at this point. Rockin' The Police States of AmeriKKKa, Lord Genocyde.

Sprint Drops 1,000 Customers At The End of July
Like many times I post anything to my blogs, people, I wish I were joking. If you're a Sprint/Nextel customer, consider changing your service. According to the article, they're dropping 1,000 customers as of the end of July. Thier reasons? These customers complain too much. By evidence of their action, this corporate juggernaut is sending a message to their existing customer base by simply telling them to "Put up or shut up." It was my understanding that when you have unhappy customers, you do whatever is necessary to make them happy in order to keep business. I still remember being told that there are two cardinal rules in the realm of Customer Service. The first is that The Customer Is Always Right. The second is that If The Customer Is Ever Wrong, Refer To The First Rule. In this case, Sprint/Nextel is treating their customer base as though they're a disposable commodity. Well, I have to say this, Sprint customers, Rise up. I've shown Sony/BMG the power of consumerism and you can too. Yeah, go for it, If you're unhappy with their service, tell them about it. If they see fit to drop you, guess what? There are a load of other carriers that have the same if not better service who will treat you like a damn king or queen to keep your service. I've done a comparison of about four carriers and here is what I've found so far. 1. Virgin Mobile: This is a prepaid service that uses Sprint's network. While it's alright, I wouldn't recommend it. Why? During the aftermath of Rita, my Virgin Mobile would not find a signal anywhere. Many others who had Sprint phones were using my other phone (coming up next) to make phone calls and explain that they were getting no service. This was almost two years ago. Have they solved this problem? That remains to be seen. 2. Cingular/AT&T: No complaints with this one yet. They have even dismissed any charges incurred for ringtones or games that I downloaded that I simply didn't like. I think I've lost service two times during the aftermath of Rita. Not for very long, though. Maybe an hour at the most. After that, it would come back and everything would be back to normal. The most dropped calls I've had was recently when all the updates were made for the upcoming iPhone (Thanks A Freakin' Load, Apple!) but now that that's over, I've been making calls without them being dropped...unless my battery dies. Not just that but their Customer Service has been ultra-friendly and they make sure that I'm 100% happy with what's going on with my phone. They don't just want to have me going, "Ok, I guess that will work." They want me saying, "I can do WHAT?! No kidding?! Gnarly! Alright! Thanks!" Thing is, they won't stop until I'm happy. 3. Verizon: I've talked to several people who've had Verizon's service and those who've had Cingular and switched, only wish they were still with Cingular. That's enough for me not to switch. 4. Centennial: I would have switched to these guys BUT their "blue region" is restricted to the Southern States only and it's a little spotty. I've also learned that I wouldn't be able to take my phone with me if I moved...not good at all. These mobile phones were made mobile for a damn reason and if I can't take it everywhere with me without having to pay for some dumb roaming charge, I don't want it. There's something else. Back when I was going to get my first RAZR, it would have cost me $300 to get one through them that was this crappy "Ice Blue" color that looked like frozen puke. I got a black one through Cingular for like $100. Hmmm...decisions, decisions. Now these are what I've seen with these four myself and whichever one is your thing is solely up to you. I know what I'm going and staying with for the time being but if you feel like being one of the rest of Sprint's "disposable commodities" I'll simply respect your decision on that. It's your phone, your call. For the rest, tell them you're not second-rate and you're not just gonna take whatever. You're a damned customer and you're never wrong. If they can't accept that, walk...plenty of other services out there. I think Sprint/Nextel has grown too big for their own good and it's high past time that people start telling corporations like this one what it is they want. If they won't give it to you, walk. The only shred of decency that Sprint/Nextel has shown is that they are waiving the early termination fees. That's another thing...these companies should earn those early termination fees. If they truly have done everything in their power to keep you happy and make you happy if you're not, then they get it. If they are unable to meet your needs, you should have the option to simply get out and then go with another carrier. Maybe it's time we told them this. Let's not be happy with second-rate service from a second-rate corporation, let's go full-scale and all-out. Let's tell them that they entered into a contract with us and we're holding up our end of the bargain...when will they hold up theirs?
The story of this particular day is all on video. I'm trying to get another video editing program that won't flip out on me (Windows Movie Maker is pissing and moaning about some .dll file having to do with another damn program altogether) and I'll post the video in segments once it's all done. Long story short, I spent 13+ hours making these shirts and enjoyed every second. All the experiments went rather well. Some of these with the large white areas are going to be redipped in another color. As you might be able to tell...I'm having the time of my life with this stuff. Have a look at yesterday's work
I really do not understand how it happened in the first place. To start, I'd fallen asleep on the couch watching Kung-Fu movies. I woke up watching Kung-Fu movies...and with an overwhelming compulsion to create tie-dye t-shirts. Laugh if you must but I'm not joking. I don't know what came over me. It was like this desire, this urge to just do something that I've never done before. This is what happens when I wake up too early. I suppose I could have turned in, going back to sleep but I couldn't stop myself. I got up, got dressed, got myself together and braved the daylight to make a trip across town to the dollar store. No need to take the bike, I thought, I crave music. I started out the door, my iPod going strong, thinking of the types of designs I wanted to create. I'd consulted a random website on it and thought about what I would need. T-shirts, rubberbands, gloves, and the dye. This, my friends, is evolution...the monkey, the man...and the gun. The shirts were the ultra cheap type. Thin white cotton t-shirts that underwent shrinkage faster than a pack of Marlboros at an A.A., Rubberbands and the gloves were easy to come by. The dye wasn't so prevalent here and when I did find the dye, there weren't many colors from which to choose. Thankfully, the store did have three of my faves in Scarlet, Black and Purple. I picked up each color in powder and liquid. Initially, I had contemplated starting this undertaking over the weekend but, having all the materials, these shirts were going to be the experiment and if it's one thing I do well (often, with disasterous results) is experiment. I began setting up, laying down a garbagebag that had been cut open and taping it to the floor and then laying newspaper over it, taping it down as well. I had to estimate when it came to water in which to mix the powder. My improvised 5-gallon bucket wastebasket would have to serve as the container for the dye. It wasn't like I was going to be eating out of the thing, was it? And so, it went. Mix the hot water with the powder, starting with the scarlet. Watching water turn blood red was one of the most interesting things I've ever seen. Laying the shirt out flat, I pinched it right about where the sternum would be if the shirt were being worn and I began twisting and pulling until I'd twisted it into a sort of cone shape. Then...I rubberbanded the hell out of it. Once that was done, it went into the bucket to soak. That's when a really interesting idea came up. It happened when I shook the scarlet water from my gloves and onto the newspaper. I grabbed one of the other shirts, spread it out onto the clean area of the newspaper and began putting my hands into the dye and splattering it all over the shirt. Then...I went mad. I grabbed handfuls of the dye and aggressively threw it onto the shirt and slapping my hands all over it. The end result was something I was really proud of.
I call my wretched creation The Second Degree Murder Shirt. It looks like I aided in the initial Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I did this while waiting on the first shirt to finish soaking. Normally, you'd leave the shirt in the dye for about 15 - 30 minutes. Never one to be outdone by time, I left my shirt in for an hour. After wrestling was over, I pulled the shirt from the Scarlet dye.
I was amazed at what came out. It was still dripping wet but the desired outcome was pretty gnarly if I do say so myself. I then began to wonder just what would happen with the black. I dumped the scarlet and had to chase it out of my bathtub immediately with water before it stained my bathtub. Bad enough I had the Second Degree Murder Shirt hanging out with this thing...the last thing I wanted to do was have to explain a scarlet-stained bathtub if some cop got nosy. Let's face it, they stop to ask me if I'm just out for a damn walk. Geez....paranoia...the game the whole government can play. Check out the results of the experiment with the black dye. This is where I had to do something different for setup. I ended up having to dismantle one of Dude on The Couch's rakes. I'll buy him another one. I needed the handle for this experiement.
See what I mean? I twisted it around the handle, rubberbanded the hell out of it and used it to both mix and hold the shirt down in the dye. You can see the mess that was made from my adventure with The Second Degree Murder Shirt. And there are my poor, abused gloves. If the bucket looks like I'm carrying what Dubya would end up fighting me over, that's because when the powder mixes with about three gallons of water, it really looks interesting. This was actually the second of the two shirts that went into the black. This is what happened when I pulled it out.
I really loved the "wormhole" effect that this particular tie pattern left behind but it was the first run that inspired me to try it...check it out.
After the drying process, I learned a few things. 1. The dye will truly dye ANYTHING. Even the cotton bag that came with my motocross goggles got dyed and what came out? A circular pattern on it that makes it look like the Oakley "O" logo in X-ray.
I'm thinking about adding in a second color later. Might not...don't know. It's important though, to clean...thourougly, any container you use and it helps to have multiple buckets and a large work area. 2. Rubber bands help in giving the tie dye material it's design. It also adds that "smoke" effect to the whole thing. 3. The way you twist up or bunch your material also contributes to the pattern. 4. Each shirt will come out unique if you're not planning it. 5. The colors will fade unless you wring out the excess dye back into the bucket. They will also fade in the drying process. If you really want your colors might want to use double the amount of dye in three gallons of water. And double the amount of time you soak the material. 6. Add a cup of salt into the helps intensify the colors. 7. Patterns are contingent on how tightly or loosely you twist, bunch, pleat or fold your material. The stress I've been under lately...well, I have to say this...I suddenly felt it lift off me. I could see the effort of my work. The only complaint that I have is that I had no one else to share the outcome with...until now. I hope you enjoy the outcome of this experiment as much as I enjoyed the performance of it.
So where does this trip end, really? Where does the struggle stop? When is that last final triumph upon which I rest and look out at my view of this great land, eternity and beyond and say, "I've done it and here's a middle finger to all my detractors?" Is it every day when I go to sleep? Is it when I finally do kick it, ages into the New World Order, telling my grandchildren what it was like back when we were free. Will it be when I'm old and barely able to function when I say, "Goddamn kids don't know what being free is like. We rose up and resisted and told them this will not be some glorified prison colony. We sent them from whence they came and stood firm. Now all that's left is you...YOU have to preserve that!" Looking back on the last entry, I often wonder if what I experienced was merely some raucous firing of neurons during electrochemical stimulation of that rather grievous mass of tissue floating around in the nether of my skull. Why does it seem more real when I dream than when I'm awake? Did I slip into that version of myself so long ago? Am I really able to use music and the power of my own mind to walk between this world and another that we visited so long ago that we are only able to understand it completely in hindsight? There was something that happened to me on another walk that I haven't written about yet. Listening to Anthrax's songs from their album The Sound of White Noise, I came to the realization that if I could slip back in time then I can use the music to make a focused effort to visit yet another world, another dimension. We only really perceive about 5% of the total of what's really around us (though I could be mistaken on that percentage, I can tell you it's dismally small) and that led me to attempt an experiment that not many others have tried. If they have, it hasn't been made known to me. Before we begin this journey, more focused than ever before, I have to say you don't need to tell me that this planet has become the biggest and most volatile powderkeg in the universe. You don't need me to tell you that you can't trust your politicians and representatives. You don't need me to tell you your system has failed you in every way conceivable. No, you don't even need me to tell you that you've been so depersonalized that you're a statistic to those in charge. You don't need me to tell you all that. All you have to do is look out your door to tell you that. Some of you can't even do that safely. Peek out of your windows, look at's on a consistant downward spiral straight to the depths of hell but, there's always escapism. Yes, your T.V. will tell you everything you want to hear. Go back to sleep, AmeriKKKa, they have it all under control. Sure, the bad guys have the upper hand but look at your watches and see that, at the end of the hour, our valiant hero or heroine will come in and get the bad guy and save the day. They'll save us from otherwise annhilation and we can all tune in tomorrow, same super time, same super channel. After that, stay tuned for your regularly scheduled sideshow attraction. It's a perfect world in there, isn't it? Sure, there's conflict but it'll be resolved within the hour and those that can't be resolved within the hour, hey, tune in next week and they'll spend another hour going into all the crap that you'll buy. Then you turn on the news and it's fear, death, AIDS, Ebola, buy this Acura Integra, Be one of us! Hey, no one understands you like your Realtor, right? This is not entertainment. This is anti-boredom at its finest. The Boredom Killing Corporation will release yet some other meaningless channel. Fear, consume, kill your boredom, hell, it's all the same to us. We'll create this nice illusion for you, sell you a few products, piss you off and you'll keep coming back because only 25% of us read on anything above a fourth-grade reading level, provided we're reading at all. If we are reading, what is it? Is it some mind-numbing adaptation of what you're watching in the first place? Do you even understand and comprehend it? Would it even matter to us, the depersonalized? Face facts, wake up and smell it, people. There are a great many ones and zeros being crunched into computers and ten years ago, you could have sat at home doing absolutely squat while your name ran through at the bare minimum...17 computers per day. Now, the rate has grown. I can't tell you by how much or why or how it's all been justified but you know the drill. It's happened to all of us. You're not unique, powerful or able in any way within the confines of this system and the thing is, it's all been served up just like that last batch of Jell-O you so happily consumed. Knowing these things, would it even matter to us? Would we be outraged? Would we even try to stop it? Of course not! We're overworked, underpaid and just too tired to give a damn about it anymore. Our politicians are comitting the most horrid of atrocities, flagrantly breaking laws that any of us, the Depersonalized At Large would suffer the rest of our lives for with no impunity whatsoever. Still, you don't need me to tell you that, it's right in front of you. The system was made for us, by us and it has failed us because we let it happen. This is where my journey begins, folks. To me, it's not escapism, it's empowerment. It's the essence of every magick in the world brought forth and manifested and all I had to do was turn off that tube which has been "the biggest goddamned sideshow in the whole godless world." I've had a great many disappointments this week as I've realized that it was really One Nation, Under Siege, Divided, With Liberty And Justice To Those Who Could Afford It. I had to take the advice of the fictional character from the movie Network, Howard Beal, when he said, "There's no truth here! We will tell you any shit you want to hear! You want truth? Go to God! Go to your Gurus! Go to yourselves! Turn off this goddamned tube! Turn it off in the middle of my very sentence! Turn it off! Turn it off!" I did just that. This time, I didn't jack in, wire up, slink down and trip out. I turned on, walked out, turned up and started down my path. I walked, listening to Anthrax, remembering days of carefree youth, remembering what Bill Hicks said. We're all matter and matter is merely energy condensed to a slow, vibrational wavelength. So if I'm really a ball of energy, why am I so damned trapped? What makes all these other high-and-mighty monkeys any different from me? Why do they act as though they can do whatever the hell they want and I can't because, if I do, the terrorists win? I call bullshit! Hell no, fuck you, eat shit, jerk me off, suck my dick, I'm not buying it, I'm not that sick. It was time to speed up the wavelength. It was time to walk, alright, not down some physical path but through the planes. God was going to have a helluva time with me trying to explain this one to Him. Who am I to explain this trip to Him? He created it, he should know. Again, buy the ticket, take the ride. So, off I went, with the song "Only" playing and the voice of John Bush accompanying Anthrax, settling me back into a time where I was very much in love with life and I could see everything going for me and then, inexplicably, I was somewhere else. There was another reality that had opened itself up to me and, before I knew it, I stopped walking. Night became Day. The air tasted more fresh than ever before and I saw everything in full, living color, in the sharpest of detail. There wasn't anything here that had been touched by the destructive nature of the human hand. It was all so pristine and to describe what I'd have seen would be like asking Heaven to describe what it sees...nothing would ever do it justice. The thought occured to me to walk no further. I didn't want to touch it. I didn't want to breathe in it. I didn't want to taint it. This was a beauty that would devastate those with even no conscience to themselves whatsoever if they touched it. No, my friends, it wasn't that I didn't want any part of it, I had wondered if I ceased to be back home. I wondered if someone had watched as I had somehow vaporized or dematerialized, what kind of effect would that have on them? I know, completely insane thing to think especially in a situation like that but I had to wonder about that because I didn't want this place I was in tainted with something I could inflict. There was only one choice for me. I decided to leave. I can't touch that, let it go to shit and then come back to the same thing. It wouldn't be right nor true. I stepped in, looked around and stepped out through some Great Cosmic Rift. So here I sit before you, pecking this out, possibly half-maddened from that journey and delirious because Little Domino decided to awaken me at an ungodly hour by attacking my unpierced ear. What happens if I find it again, you ask? I wonder that myself. I might just take up residence.
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