When enlightenment strikes.

It is said that when enlightenment is obtained, you feel a universal sense of feeling and oneness with yourself and the universe. But, I kind of wonder is there a sense of a twisted darkside to it. There is always an yin and yang. The polar components of balance. What if the revelations that one obtains is one that can no doubt redefines the core being of a person.

I kind of feel that way as of late. Reaching an enlightenment and understanding that after a long time of contemplation and honestly a few conversations that the truth - the undebateable truth slaps you in the face like a mad girlfriend who didn't get that ring for Christmas. Seeing it you just feel you can have a sense of saying "Yes! I was right. The whole time I was correct." Yet, the sense of self-gloating has no mirth in it.

I will not go into this pyric victory of myself against the world. (Me 4 world 3 in overtime.) I will not speak of it. But those who know - know and that's that.

I always believed the powers of the universe have a sick sense of humor and a degrading sense of irony. The saying "Be careful what you wish for, for you just might get it." Does not apply to the secret desires of our hearts. For there is no lesson in things like that. There is no comsic morality tale in what we really want for a sense of happiness. Yet, the asking of the most selfish want, there is a billion and two acceptances of it and granting of the wish. Because, it will always be something negative attached to it. I think the proverb should say, "Be careful for the things you wish you want and never expect thing you need for you never will get it."

So with that said, why does it feel an empty victory when you proven some truths that you spent so long fighting, finally get the vindication - yet feels worthless. Was the fight so draining that you just have no sense of accomplishment? One always hear the greater the strugger the more significant and sweeter the victory. Feels a bit salty. And looking at it - I feel worse than ever. The truth has finally be told - the veil has been lifted and light is now drawn. It should be a bright day - and potential for great possibility. Yet there isn't.

If this is what enlightenment of understand is, I think there is bliss in ignorance.

Arrogance you have, fall on your face you will..

Without me getting into my Yoda - inner Jedi mode, I just sometimes have to ask myself how can some people have so much arrogance and total self-absorbed so completely that they can even walk. It sometimes behooves me that any human can have some a feeling of self-importance, it is only by a miracle of epic magnitude they do not even choke upon it, not saying that it would not be an improvement upon the population and honestly, it don't think that the human race can really miss such people.

Reason being, there just some folks that I have seen and interact with that have this notion that the world not only sun revolved around them, that the center of the know universe you will find them sitting there with a sign that says here I am...gaze upon me and rejoyce. And then think that every person male, female, robotic alien, and poltician just sooooooo wants them. And this is one quote that was said from said individual's own head: I make men leave their wives, women leave their husbands. Gay men seek pussy and women seek me.

I almost had to laugh at the nonsense. I had to break down and actually say a few words. Not only because I'm a person who loves to knock pedestals off people's asses but since I'm the bad guy, it's my job to do so. Such is my calling. I just had to ask is it hard on your neck holding your nose so high in the air? And are you scared of birds taking air-bomb poops down your face? Not that this person may be used to having things loaded on their face, "yes, I did go there!" I swear if it rains the idiot shall drown and I'll be almost ready to post it on youtube.

Being that this person had to defend their self and call me some jealous, insecure jackass. I had to respond in the colorful, smooth way that people have come to know and love (or loathe depending on who knows me). I'm like jealous of what? Someone who had their car repoed for having not paid note for almost 3 months? yeah I'm hating on that. Someone who lives for buying fake products and "claim" they are the real article. Oh yeah. I didn't know Coach has an "E" in it. I'm so so jealous of that. Seriously, the douche baggery of some people. Just feel they need to get past their egotism and come down that elite high-horse. And seriously take the broomstick out their ass.

So, my minions, if you know people like that and trust me, we ALL do, do yourself a favor and a public service, knock their chair off these people. If they won't take a humility pill, shove it down their throats. There is already global warming and most of these people contribute it with all the hot air they exude. Now I am off to find me a Coache bag for Mother's day.

SAW

In the case of absolute humor...

I am now..going to write.

Somtimes the funniest things are those that come from the most unexpected of quarters. I was talking to a friend and he had the tell me he received a call with an invitation to be on Maury and the first thing that came to my mind was he being thrown to the wolves and have some crazy episode of "You are the baby daddy!" And I just had to get a chuckle. I had to ask was there someone that you did the mattress mambo and become a father of some child. He never answered but I can pretty much bet the house, two cars and a big bag of California's best happy-grass that it is.

Now me being the supportive friend that I am (and one who is a champion sarcastic speaker) I had to go be on there, if so when and I want a ringside seat? Almost insultingly he said NO! Thing is that I just have to go think about the one repeat guest on the show who appeared on the show I can say about a dozen times and had about thirty or so potential baby fathers and broke down into fits of over-hyped hysteria when each and every one of them were not selected to win a baby from the maternal lottery. Screaming to each one something to the affect of "This is your child, I am dead serious! Can you see the resemblance?! Just like you and blah blah blah!" I just have to think after the twenty-ninth time that number thirty will be the charm. I even think that Maury was picked to take a test just to make sure that everyone was given a fair chance. We don't want any discrimination suits right??

When it was finally over, it was revealed that the one person who be the father was the father but sadly was dead. Kind of a sad hand that the deck of fate dealt. The greatest mystery since the Kennedy Assassination or how the Kardashians be famous for doing absolutely nothing (unless you call a horrible sex tape famous) was finally solved.

So now I am thinking what will happen to this one potential lady who wishes to find out this child as the father? Good question. Will she just force a hand or will she go down her laundry list of suitors? Call out everyone in her freak-a-dex and ship them to Hollywoodland just to have them sit in a studio being greeted by an audience of people condemning those men saying you know that is your baby and take responsibility. Yes those are the father ok, accept it, man up and do your thing. Bur, what of those who are the father? You hardly ever get any apology for the potential embarrassment, or any sort of redemption from the audience, host or whatever. And people wonder why when those guys George Jefferson strut out like they got a free three piece dinner from Wangs and Thangs. Which does sound good now. Who wants to bring me some wangs and thangs?

But it is funny how many will boo and jeer one man's triumph. Especially when one is not. Well, put it into this context if you can. How can one be so fast to condemn one minute then once they see a FUBAR so fast never to admit they made a mistake and not say sorry for the mixup? So fast to convict, so slow to acquit. But I always say if you going to air out your laundry in a public forum, be prepared for a lash of ridicule that will ensue - negative or positive. And me being the Villain that I am...I shall give my 2.3888 cents of humor, cheer and a good bit of cynical truth. All free of charge. What better deal is there right???

I know that most of those women just want to have a father for their child and I agree they should. But, seriously, are there not other, better avenues than going on a show to make a potential spectacle of millions. I kind of wonder is it for a few want to get that 15 minutes of fame and sadly 14 minutes and 59 seconds of it. And that last second is not going fast enough.

Well if I have to see if my friend changes his mind and if so, I'll be grabbing my popcorn and pepsi and see if Maury be saying...in the case of this child...is he the baby father...

Vegas says 5 to 1 it is...I will take that bet...

SAW

Why I do what I do?

I guess that is one of the most important questions one can ask. Why do you do what you do? The variety of answers are near infinite and based on serveral experiences and personal codes and creeds that one keeps in themselves. But in terms for this entry and myself, I was asked why do I post many of the anti-motivationals, caption pictures and customed made signs as I do. The answer is quite simple, because it is a true hoot to do so. WIth soo much negative stuff right now, there is a huge need of good mirth and humor more than ever. And it is I, the protector of comedy, who will give every bit of crazy, twisted and quasi-offensive humor that I can find or conjure up. However, it is funny how many can be so damn ready to jump through the political correctness hoop and find something offensive and ready to complain. I usually say don't like it move on, don't look, block or whatenot. But, many have to play the moral police and steer the social conscious ship towards stupidity. I for one will not allow such things to happen upon my wacth However, I find it funny how many try to play the social correctness card are usually the first to be guilty of worse. Many say one who lives in a glass house should not throw rocks. I usually say make sure you got a curtain over the bathroom. I mean really who wants to watch you poop? I sure don't. Anyone who knows me know I am a person who likes to take a good hold of humor and ride it like a $3 stripper and get my money's worth out of it. Which is usually $1.37 before taxes. Just who I am. Some are too high-strung or self-absorbed with their own sense of self-importance that they need to have a few things poked and prodded for a good cheer. Maybe that can get them to find a sense of humility. So whenever I post something it is usually for one reason only, ok maybe a few but mostly for a good laugh. I mean really some people need to have things examined from a comedic view. Stop being so serious all the damned time. So I say now, get your thumb our your ass, step off your high horse and partake in a good laugh. Cause not everyone is laughing with you - but at you and even so, have a laugh at yourself. I do. And I do this why?? well it's cause I can and need to. Carry on! SAW

I am back...kind of...(and a gift)

I know that it has been a while since I have graced the pages of my blog and for that I am sorry. But reality has been keeping me away from this place but now I am back and there have been a lot goings on and in the next few entries, I will share those experiences with one and all. But for now, I will just get this apology out of the way and share a few nuggets now.
I do hope that everyone is having a great new year so far. I wonder how many people have kept to their new years resolution. I am sticking to mine. I have made an effort to work on this book that I have been compiling in my head over the last year and some change. I kept notes and a few things of stuff from how I want it. I even made a soundtrack of music that I usually listen to for inspiration. You would be surprised in what tunes goes into my literary creation. Here is just a sample of artists and see how diverse it is:
Sade
Pantera
B.B. King
Young Jeezy
Chopin
John Williams
N.W.A
Dean Martin
Armin Van Buren
Robert Glass
Robert Johnson
Drowning Pool
Mozart
I would say Google them if you don't know who they are. But, songs here and there just gets me with the scene. I will have to give you a few background into what I am writing.

It's mostly an anthology of short stories based on this fictitious mega-city. Now when I say mega-city think of one city that composes the entire states of Texas and New York (now concentrate on that) Yes it has everything to robots, vampires, evil corporations and a partridge in a pear tree. Ok maybe not a partridge but it has a Red Robin and an IHOP (pancakes do sound good right now) Right now, I have a third of the first story finished and hope to have it completed within a week or so. I have set a goal to have the whole kabuddle done before December 21st. In case the zombie apocalypse does happen and I get kidnapped by undead strippers or something. muhahahaha

I do laugh at how people think that this world will implode on this day. If people just do some research and use some reason. the Maya had this date set as an end of a particular age. And a new one begins. Just like we are in the age of Aquarius (someone correct me on that mkay) there is no end of the world. Unless bad singers from American Idol do decide to find talent and People of Walmart rise up against the stupidity of themselves then it's time to flee the planet and head out to places unknown. Then again I think the end of the world was adverted by reason of conscious. Rick Perry decided to drop out from the President Race and I'm sorry - I think if you screw up a state as governor, you are automatically disqualified as President. But hell, name me a politician who hasn't screwed up things over the years and leave messes for their successors to clean up. For real though, we still fixing up Slick Willy Clinton's mess off that blue dress of poor Ms. Monica. But, I have a perfect solution for November's election, we should have a "None of the Above" option and if that many is voted, all candidates are dropped and a new set is picked and you have 45 days to kiss babies, make up empty promises and extort kickbackers to win the spots you are running for. Problem solved!!! Don't you think??

Well I think I have blabbled long enough. Who want's to read a small excerpt from my potential Pulitzer Prize winning work?? Ok maybe I am over-exaggerating: have a gander on this and let me know what you think and FYI this is a DRAFT mkay??

He always hated this place. He hated the crowds, the pollution and the crime. Yes, the crime was what he despised the most. However, for Enforcer-Sergeant Boris Kenshaw, crime was his mark in trade. Even after 35 cycles on the force, he hated the job being an enforcer; however he was a 5th generation officer, following his family in what most would consider the family business. However, in his time as an enforcer, he had never seen anything like this.

The bodies were mangled. Heads were smashed, limbs ripped asunder. The walls were painted with blood and entrails. At least two dozen of these destitute victims were found here just a few hours ago. Some unfortunate, maintenance man, trying to find a faulty generator, stumbled onto the bodies. He could only guess that this was either some sort of gang related attack or a sick ritual being performed by some of the machine-cults. Boris knew that both of these have been on the rise as of late as; more so than recently.

The death-examiners, a female wearing a black bodysuit and a mask scanned each body, or what was left of them. The corner-drones, large bulky monstrosities, prepared the corpses for removal on the large morgue carrier nearby. After a few moments, the examiner reached into her black satchel and pulled out a data pad, then punched a few key onto the device.

Her job completed, the death-examiner instructed all the corner-drones to deposit the corpses into the carrier. The enforcer walked toward the lady.

“So, what is the assessment,” Boris asked?

With a disdained look, the examiner began to reply. “This looks like a nothing I had ever seen. However, my first guess would be a sadistic ritual. The symbols on the wall seem to correspond with the idea.” She pointed to the largest mural, his head following the direction. “The symbols are a rendition of the Bloody Piston machine-cult. I have examined some of the bodies for any tats or brands. There was none. So I believe there probably kidnapped citizens or occupants of the Gutters.”

Boris nodded. He thought of her words. The Gutters, was a huge area where the homeless, the unwanted and the forgotten go to survive. It seemed like a likely place for cultists to kidnap or recruit for their evil means. “What could have been used to do such carnage?” Boris questioned.

The death examiner pulled out her data pad and punched a blue rune. A display of possible murder tools appeared. She offered the pad to the Enforcer. He looked at the images of death that could be used for such terror. “Shit!” The Enforcer exclaimed. He saw items like steam powered impact-hammers, diamond studded power saws, and ripper arms. All these tools were used in industrial construction, not destroying life as this. The death-examiner took back the pad that Boris offered. “I will compile the report for the MCD to investigate,” The woman said.

“I suspect that the Murder Crimes Division will have already sent a psychic by now…” Boris began to say just as two heavily armored men walked in. The men were carrying Riot Shotguns. Behind the men, a man in a white robe and a huge gray helmet on the crown of his head.

“It seems that they have arrived as we speak, madam examiner.” Boris said as he nodded to the guard captain.

“Captain Utalla, Murder Crimes Division.” We will take it from here Enforcer.

Boris never liked having his authority usurped, no matter how much he hated the situation he was in at the time. This would be no exception.

“This is my investigation, Captain.” Boris replied. “We have not completed our examinations, but you are always welcome to assist us…”

“Maybe I did not make myself clear, Officer.” Utalla hissed.

“Quite.” Boris replied in a low tone. “However, you do not understand, we are still under a primary investigation. Once we are completed, you can do whatever death-trances you see fit with your, “pet”. But until then, I will be in charge with this. If you have any problems, contact Commander Thompson. But till then, you can co-operate with us or be gone.

Utalla withheld the urge to unload the contents of his shotgun into the brash officer. He controlled his breathing and nodded.

“I mean no disrespect, but you are aware of the nature of the trances. We have to have the area clear before we can let loose the death-trancer. There can be complications and unforeseen results of this place are not clear. So please clear the area.”

“Very well,” Boris finally replied. “We shall clear the zone shortly, let me get my people out of your way.”

“We shall prepare the death-trancer.” Utalla said.

Boris turned and motioned everyone to clear the area, reluctantly. He had seen the death-trancers perform their work. If one can call what they do work. These poor individuals would scour the crime scene and take psychic images of the area from the minds of the freshly killed. To draw some mental picture of who could caused their deaths. The feeling that these psychics project onto others was a very uncomfortable experience and Boris known people to become insane from it.

Resigned to this situation, he needed to get away. When he got the all clear from his subordinates, he approached Utalla, who was with directing a crew carrying a cage that could contain only a death-trancer.

“The scene is clear, you can start whenever,” Boris said.

“Good,” Utalla said. “Now you can leave as well, we shall only be a few minutes and you can return to your investigation.”

“Fine”

Boris turned and walked away, mumbling a very unprofessional word or two under his lips as he did.

Utalla motioned for one of the technicians to open the cage. Steam rose from the enclosure as the bars slowly were lifted. A chill ran through Boris as he felt an intrusion touch his very soul. He could hear the commands of Utalla’s attendants take control of the death-trancer. Boris turned around to get a clear view of this individual. The trancer was female, wearing a vest of confining straps. Her hair was shaved bald and some electronic apparatus with blinking lights dancing across. Her body was wired thin; a full head shorter than Boris. He could not help but notice the two tattoos on her face: one of the letter “G” just under her left eye and the other, a skull protruding with rose petals on her right cheek. Boris recognized it immediately. A gang tattoo. She was one of the Death Rose gang, one of the most dangerous occult gangs in the city. Boris Kenshaw had dealt with the Death Rose before in his time as an enforcer. Ruthless, deadly and will not go down without a firefight to the death. Boris wondered how she was captured to be serving as a death-trancer.

He could see her handlers speaking to her as they guided her to the crime scene. The death-trancer began to speak incoherently. The handler and one officer behind her watching the trancer intently slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny, black box and pressed a red button on the top. As he did so, the device on the trancer’s head blinked red twice and went dark.

He turned to Utalla and said, “All is ready, Sir. We can begin now.”

“Do it,” Utalla demanded.

The death-trancer walked slowly around the murder scene, licking her lips as she toured the murder scene. It was only a few moments when she stopped at one body, a dead female no less than 20 years laid, her body missing an arm and most of her skull. The death-trancer closed her eyes and blew quietly. The handler approached closer, his one had on the black box. The enforcer, had a datapad in his hand, prepared to record any findings the séance may have.

Suddenly, the death-trancer wailed. Her eyes now wide and as black as any night sky.
“Run!” the death-trancer said to no one. “They are shooting at us. Please, don’t hurt me.” The trancer thrashed in her confines. They are so many, we must hide…”

“Who are they,” the handled questioned? “Describe them.”

“They are shooting, they killed Frankster!” The death-trancer wailed louder as she sputtered out the experiences of the dead victims. Boris could not feel a bit nauseated from it all. Just as he was going to leave, he heard a name.

“Spike-Shroud!” The death-trancer said. “Heavens it’s Spike-Shroud!”

Boris knew now who was responsible for this. Spike-Shroud, a man who name spoke fear in most of the citizens of the mega-city. A killer with the most sadistic appetite for hideous pleasures barring on the almost demonic. Spike-Shroud had been on the Enforcers most wanted list for almost as long as Boris has been on the force. So brutal in his methods, however he is almost impossible to apprehend. The only clear indication of identify marker from Spike-Shroud is the black shroud, spotted with blood from his victims and the “hair” made of small spikes, that given him his name. His gang of killers have terrorized Nineveh and its citizens, and the few who even tried to stand to him were brutally murdered. Even some within Boris’s own law-enforcement circle had given this monster a wide berth.

The death-trancer spoke more words and continued to flail around, the handler recording everything possible from this morbid endeavor.

“He speaks of the culling. He has taken Duke!” “The culling…help…”

Culling, Boris thought. What culling? As he tried to gather more of what the death-trancer was speaking, she fell silent, dropped to the ground and being to sob loudly. The handler walked to her and scanned her over with the black device he held.

“Well,” Utalla asked?

“It is complete,’ the handler said as he being to activate the death-trancers headpiece. “She manage to garner some information of the attack. It is Spike-Shroud and his gang.”

Utalla spat, “Oh well damn that psycho bastard to the four hells!” He walked towards the handler and the downed death-trancer. “And her?”

The handler looked at the readout displayed on his device and nodded. “She is fine, a bit exhausted but manageable. We can return her to her carriage. With that he motioned the guards to pick her up and slowly take her to the carriage. The death-trancer kept sobbing speaking under each cry, calling out for dead loved ones that fell to Spike-Shroud and his minions.

Boris could still feel the eerie chill in his bones. Now he knew who did this, now he has to find out why, what is this culling and how to capture this killer. All without being like these poor dregs that lay mangled and torn here.

Catching what’s left of his reserve he started to walk towards his squad car.

“Enforcer,” came a voice from behind. Boris turned around to see Captain Utalla marching towards him. “You can have your scene now, we have complete what we needed. But since this is Spike-Shroud we are dealing with, this will just be checked off as another ignored killing.”

Boris did not want to agree with this man, but Spike-Shroud has committed over six dozen murders over the past few decades: including the own President of the City and his entire family.

“I will find this bastard and serve him the justice he deserves,” Boris said confidently.

Utalla laughed at the notion. “I seriously doubt that, Enforcer. Many have tried to and ended up mounted on some wall or have body parts sent to their next of kin. Trust me on this, it’s best to leave it be. Spike-Shroud is a killer that…”

“Save it,” Boris interjected. “He is human, and any human can be dealt with.”

Utalla shrugged and turned around to leave. “If you are so determined to be on the Fallen Wall, I can tell you that some of his “associates” frequent the Living Sin club in the Hiker District. You can start there, however, I caution you greatly to leave this alone.”

Boris knew of the place and the area. The Hiker District was mostly a grand industrial park; most of the manufactories have been abandoned to be left for the lost and the lawless. And a few of the buildings have become popular night spots for the socially unacceptable. But looking at the time on his watch, he knew his shift would soon end. He will start on his investigation into this string of murders tomorrow. Right now, he needed a good night’s sleep, after a drink that is.

More to come later.

SAW

Can't rebuild bridges with burned wood

Over the last few months, I been contacted by two individuals that after weeks and even months of not hearing from them and requests of not contacting them (will explain the reasons shortly), they wished to pretend that nothing happened and it's business as usual. I had to sit down and ponder this. After about 30 and 3/4 seconds of thinking, I came to a decision of not even talking to them deleted the messages. Why you may ask? Is it wrong for me to just not reach out if someone clearly is trying to talk and re-start a friendship? The answer is emphatic - NO!! I am not wrong and clearly justified in it. Reasons you may ask, well let me ask this?? Why would some people attempt to just burn bridges in the first place? Why attempt to brush people off for some mundane reasons. Or most importantly - why after you ask people to not contact you because of insecure people you been with or cause of situations you were in that deep down were not good, yet turned you back on them over common sense? Most would consider not trying to communicate with people who just walked out for dumb reasons as selfish - I don't think that it's the case. I just think that if many people who so little value over friendships and so quick to let it wither away like unattended flowers. I over the last few months have noticed how many people value friendships. And if many are so quick to burn them for various reasons. I just can not with clear conscience just allow anyone to walk back in with the possibility of history repeating itself? Can't rebuild a bridge with burned wood. And even if you can, do you really feel you there will be enough trust? I seriously doubt it. Just don't want to feel a fool. Already consider it for letting the effects get to me. But, their made their choice, and now they have to live with the decision. Does it hurt? Not anymore. I moved on - and so did they. I can not just let anyone waltz in after they tangoed out in the first place. I can stand by my convictions with it. Friends don't just do what they done. And I'm over it....they can try to build another bridge somewhere else. Just bring fresh wood for the fires later. SAW

Changing my papge some

I just felt that I needed to change my page a bit. Give it a fresh coat of paint. However it still has the same engine of cynical horsepower and realist wheels. I never changing that. However, there some times I wish I can just change everything with a click of a button. Make things as simpler as a change here a tweak there and save.