Jason Reynard, B.A. Political Science, Comparative Politics, former Political Consultant.

About a month ago, I promised I would stop ranting about politics, having said that, let's move on.

It dawned on me last night, as I was polishing off a few Rogue Dead Guy Ale's (product placement) that a majority of people have no idea what is going on around them in Government, part of me is jealous, and the other part I think, finally had the "ah-ha!" moment I've been waiting for.

A pretty large majority of people in this country will not read what I'm about to say, but I never started doing this to please other people, I selfishly began writing, because I enjoy it. So, fuck em'. There is another large sect of people in this country who will be turned off to any knowledge I have to offer simply because of my language, well to be more appropriate, fuck them too, and still, the rest of the make-up of people will not take the time to read, because it's inconvenient, and certainly fuck them, most of all, with a six-foot rubber fist. These people are worthless, and every sect of their imagination has been projected to them by another person's mind or another person's imagery. They are in a sense, dead already, as they refuse the exercise the very essence of what makes us human, internal thought, and our creative connection to the next plain. Yes, the next plain, the place we cannot understand, a world where Deja Vu, gut instinct, love, dreams, the afterlife, the true machinery of the Universe, and all other things that both don't exist and do at the same time whirl above and below, taunting us with every decision we make without acknowledging what is beyond the physical.

So, back to the physical, and what we know, or at least, what we perceive to know. It is 2013, and we are in the middle of one of the most turbulent times in human History, with updates across the world at our fingertips in an instant, we can see these times unfolding before our eyes, and yet we choose to look away. The truth of existence is beating on the front door of America, and those who need to step up to the plate, hide behind the sofa, while serpents control our destiny and run it into the ground. People like John McCain, Nancy Pelosi, George Bush, Diane Feinstein, Barack Obama, Michael Bloomberg, Dick Cheney, Joe Biden, Sean Hannity, Al Sharpton, and so many other of our perceived "leaders" do nothing more than pit us, human beings, against each other on false political front lines. They make us hate each other, they tell us what to think, they tell us 'their side" of the story as opposed to ever giving us the straight answer, the truth, the real story. They invoke Hitler when talking about their rivals, they invoke Martin Luther King Jr. when talking about themselves, they do nothing, absolutely nothing more than play off our deepest human emotions, to make us destroy one another. It's worked, this country is collapsing from the inside.

The entire Middle East is in upheaval, North Korea, one of the world's worst Despotism states is developing nuclear weapons, Europe is collapsing. Riots all over the world, people are tired of being controlled, they know we as a people, are destined to be something more. Be a part of this, pay attention, you cannot tread water lazily when the tides of History cascade. You have no choice other than to be a part of it, you must know what part you want to play. Change, real change, is coming, for better or worse.

Pay close attention to what I'm going to say, because I don't care what you think about me for saying it, the American Government is preparing to kill you. I don't know why, and I don't know exactly what we are on the precipice of, because we have never seen anything like this in human History, it has never happened.

"THIS KID IS FUCKING INSANE". No, I'm seriously not, this is the most important part, so don't just hang up on me, read this.

I've harped on this for a while, it is now legal for President Obama to order the assassination of American citizens without judge or jury. Here is an article about it, you can find hundreds more.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/03/05/us-targeted-killings-eric-holder_n_1320515.html

This Executive Order was passed without any lawmaking body that represents us as a Democracy having any say in the matter. They always use terrorism as an excuse, just like they use it as an excuse to tap our phones, to save all of our personal data, to access our emails, our passwords, our accounts. It's all in the name of Terrorism. Some bullshit word, some bullshit war that invokes fear in it's very name.

Guantanamo Bay, we don't know who is even there. There are human beings being held without trial, many of whom are not terrorists, but we are afraid to release them, because after torturing them, we fear if released, we have actively turned them into terrorists. http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2013/aug/12/john-grisham-guantanamo-bay-us-wrong

In case you didn't know, it's legal for any American, now to be detained indefinitely without trial, with jury, only if they are "suspected of terror". Pretty fucking vague.

Yes, I realize that people are not just being assassinated, or disappeared around the country, but realize, the legal precedent has been set, and carrying out such crimes is now, not an offense that can impeach a President, this is not now just a philosophical debate about safety, it has grown teeth legally.

America has the world's largest prison population. China, Communist Dictatorship, Russia, Communist pseudo-Dictatorship, North Korea, all of these enemies and nations we see as being constant Human Rights deniers...we have a prison population larger than all of them combined. 25% of the world's prisoners are in America.  On top of this, over 800,000 people go missing in America every year, every year. Something is seriously, seriously wrong with this country. An estimated 750,000 are adults, not children. It's beyond comprehension.

Now, let's use some good old fashioned imagery of what our police forces look like these days.

                                                                                                                                                                   I think you get the idea. This is not a Police force, there is a word for this in the world of Political Science, it's called paramilitary. But hey guys, it's for your own safety, from terrorism. 9/11 happened twelve years ago, Osama Bin Laden is dead, Saddam doesn't have nukes, but for your safety, we are going to arm our police forces tooth and nail to protect you. We are going to spy on your phone calls, detain people without trial, assassinate people without trial, because it's for your safety.

What else has happened for our safety here recently? The Department of Homeland Security has purchased 1.6 BILLION rounds of ammunition in the past year, hollow points, in case you don't know, these bullets are called "cop killers" because upon impact they explode and bits of shrapnel spread into the tissue, causing massive bleeding that is extremely, extremely difficult to stop. 1.6 billion rounds, not for the military, for Homeland Security, who the fuck at home are we securing? That's enough ammunition to kill every American citizen...three times. Acknowledge what is happening, let it sink in a bit.

Do you really think Government leaders want to ban assault weapons in the United States solely because of school shootings? They don't seem to have much of a problem distributing fully-automatic rifles freely among our police forces, along with domestic tanks. This is what you do to set up for warfare, not protect the citizenry against a dozen underfed Saudi Arabians with box cutters, or one manically depressed nut-job with a semi-automatic, ya dig?

You looked around your neighborhood recently? Notice cameras on intersections that didn't used to be there? Did you remember voting for that? Don't worry, we have you under constant surveillance for your own safety. Good luck not getting shot, teased, or the shit beat out of you if you attempt to film cops doing anything, from routine traffic stops to killing the neighbors dog, or illegal searches and seizures. Though you can see them filming you, taking pictures for facial recognition at demonstrations and protests of any sort. Is a harmless video really "interrupting police business"? No. Not at all. They are keeping people from filming this because it's terrifying, it's intimidating, and it's going on with a large majority of people not knowing its happening. It's the world's greatest magic trick, the overnight transformation of America into a militarized Police State.

So, here we are in the real world, never really free, always clinging on to some job we hate, to scrape by, and never become the people we were destined to, completely tuned in to television and tuned out to the greater beyond, never asking ourselves important questions like "What's my purpose?" "What happens when I die?" just standing idly by with the one life we get, not having any real choice in what we do with it. Work 5 days for two off, too tired to do anything exciting, too broke to go anywhere for a long time, a quarter of every dollar we make goes towards killing people over seas, and buying our police enough weaponry to completely and legally destroy us.

It doesn't matter if you think this is real or not, if you think this is with bad intent or not, the only thing missing for an absolute massacre in this country is the order. The cameras are set up, the weapons and machinery are distributed, the new law enforcement agencies have been introduced, the laws are in place, the precedent has been set. The Boston Bombing was a national televised showcase of what our government can do to any major city in the snap of a finger. The guns and ammunition are there, and the tanks. If we are the enemy, our digital correspondence is already tapped, our phones are accessed and all digital print archived. Good luck trying to start a resistance against this form of government, hiding from the drones and helicopters and cameras, you can't even stage a protest without everyone getting shot with rubber bullets or maced, good fucking luck leading a revolution to resist oppression, it's been stamped out before it ever began, right under our noses.

Hey, don't worry, I'm sure our legislators will do the right thing, the ones who steal money from us and legally get away with insider trading, the ones who get paid kick-backs, and suck up to each other like this is all some big game, some big "haha" over a glass of Chardonnay paid for by the constituents, the ones who just got their homes repossessed, whose fathers just got thrown in prison, the lowly jobless who can't take care of their families or afford to educate their children to do better. Said I wasn't going to rant about politics anymore, I guess I didn't really lie all that much, because I'm not talking about politics, I'm talking about some sort of domestic war that for some reason, our government is preparing to fight inside this country. Ask yourself who the "enemy" is?

Passion.

Passion will carry you further than any human emotion; there is love, there is hate, there is fear, but passion will let you hover above all of these things. Passion is a sustained moment of perfection, where you will float above doubt and critique, where you lose the fear to care, and take a leap.

We sacrifice passion for what is deemed necessary, what is deemed normal, what is depicted as acceptable, passion will plow through it all...doubt, sadness, and sometimes madness. When you sacrifice all for passion, you will reach immortality. The money will not matter, you will hold disdain of fame, you will only want to be alone, with your passion. It is an essence, a sense, unattained by so many who will never know the hunt has begun.

It can destroy and create love, it will force you to rise above the clouds of mundane existence, and it will channel you to something better, something never before seen by the crowds of onlookers, who drown in the wonderment of what has made you different than they. You will not care if they see, as you exist, and feel that existence, and how beautiful it can be, when you dedicate yourself not in part, but whole. You will not care about their thoughts, about their judgement, nor their ridicule, for you have found passion, something nobody but yourself will understand, something you will never have to explain, it WILL NOT be contained and cannot be simply obtained. It is a fire within, that will never stop burning, the endless yearning to outsiders discerning, the closet human contact can be to divine gears churning. 

For it is passion, it is life, and for those that do not seek, and do not sacrifice, they will never find, the core of life.

The Rant to End All Rants.

America is in a state of confusion, where the backwards moves us forward, and rallies for "change" have quickly transformed into the progression of hope's suffocation. Hope, trampled by blood-lust and frenzied masses, as they celebrate the demise of invisible foes and conjured enemies. Hope, dangling above the starved by the depraved, a teasing game with a ball of yarn, just to watch the cat do flips for nothing in return. Hope, sealed behind the guise of a classified envelope, revenge for the written word, once burned in stacks by people, now the words order the burning, all sealed behind doors of laughter and purposeful ignorance, chosen stupidity, only a more innocent and less cowardly version of aversion.

If you don't understand the imagery in it's entirety, don't be alarmed, for you are human, and this part of your brain has actively been eviscerated since your conception. As an update on the country, people are rallying all around the country at this moment to "avenge" the death of Trayvon Martin, wide rallies in various cities all call for George Zimmerman, to be prosecuted, executed, electrocuted, anything to satisfy their thirst for vengeance. This fire has been fueled by the President, by The Justice Department, by corporate media. There have been no calls for peace, for reconciliation, or even directions to READ by definition what "Murder 1" is, and how without clear, premeditated intent to murder beyond a reasonable doubt, it cannot be.

Of course, as a writer, I must recuse myself to a degree, because many people don't understand what "corporate media" even is, and still think the petty jokes about "FOXNEWS" illegitimacy are not jokes reserved for the media as a whole. The fact is CNN, MSNBC, FOX, ABC, are all misguided bastards of information, with intent to gain ratings, not to inform the public of truth, especially a public who loudly rejects truth at every turn, a public who cannot see but two inches beyond it's own face, a public who will gladly mock, then intimidate, then threaten an opposing view until finally, after the damage is done, that opposing view is proven correct, then the public will fade into the background like cowards, ignoring their own actions without ever acknowledging how wrong they were. Who would want to tell an unapologetic tank full of sharks they are in captivity, when all they want is to be fed? This is the reality of our time.

While Obama and his goons desperately try to damage the legal system like they have destroyed the main legal foundation of this country for years, a petty attempt to muster racial tensions, as ignorant whites and blacks alike call into their stupid talk-radio show hosts, and share their infantile views on the case...the House voted today to NOT curtail the wide domestic NSA spying programs across the nation. While hundreds of people killed one another over the past two months, black, white, Latino, and everything in between without a pip from any major media outlet, Obama got away free with his corrupt and politically slanted IRS, and the Department of Justice got away with outing major news sources from the one major news outlet that actually does it's own research, The Associated Press. It doesn't do it's research very well, but unlike FOX, CNN, and the likes, at least it gathers it's own information.

I've taken a walk from all of this, from the constant onslaught of corruption and shit in this nation to focus on myself and what makes me happy, because as a political writer, happiness is impossible. Every day I read a news article, I only learn of the new position my government puts me in as it rapes me, and how I cannot abort the bastard rape-child I bear within. It's infuriating. 25% of every hour I bust my ass to barely get by, is stolen by the government and wasted, I'm forcefully taking part in so many things I disagree with to my bone. I am tired of it. I'm tired of trying to make people realize how bad things really are. I thought those three cases would be enough to expose how much of a liar and crook Obama is, and just like the snake he is, he wiggled out of it, by helping turn George Zimmerman into the national scapegoat. President Obama doesn't care if a race war broke out in Florida because of the case, he hasn't once asked others to respect the law or asked for George and his family's safety, not once has he asked anyone to be rational, because as I've repeated so many ways over the years, he doesn't care, as long as he's off the hook.

Did you know Obama is half black? Did you know he is half white? Did you know he doesn't give a flying fuck about 100% of blacks and 100% of whites?

I've stopped writing about politics and social issues for the most part because to be honest, most people don't get it, either their egos are too big or their senses too dull, of their intelligence too low to comprehend simple ideals or morals I attempt to bring to the table. Those who do care enough to read and comment only seem to do so for the sake of argument, to jerk off their own egos, not to actually meet at agreements, but to see who can turn a discussion into a childish poop-throwing competition faster. Money is the thing most people care about these days. A President is seen as good if the country generates money under him, and that is endlessly dangerous. We sell our souls collectively these days. Work jobs we hate, temper the mundane, the boring, the average, the false sense of normal because it's better than the unknown alternative. Someone is seen as "doing good for themselves" if their job pays well, doesn't matter what kind of person they are or what the job is, just if it pays well.

Newsflash: This world will someday be turned upside down, and all of that false wealth will show it's true value, nothing. If you have sacrificed yourself, integrity, your own good for a piece of paper, you have sold everything for nothing. That day will come so much sooner than you expect it to.

It was recently brought to my attention how many of my "peers" wonder "what I am doing?" as if I am just flushing myself down the toilet. I've spent the last year dedicating myself to boxing, overcoming injuries, fears, gaps of knowledge and athleticism to compete. Pipe dreams to some. If I went in the ring tomorrow and knocked out the Middleweight champion of the world, everyone would know what I've done, there would be praise, everyone would want to know me, to talk to me. Kids would want my autograph, girls would want my hand, and the world would be upside down from the exterior. The only difference to me in this scenario would be that I just got paid a fat purse.

Outside of that I would have studied film, sparred tough opponents to ready myself, pushed myself physically every day because of my hunger to be a competitor and my want to get better, nursed injuries, wiped away blood, lost nights of sleep to aches and pains, fought off my want to drink or smoke or eat things I shouldn't, constantly battled with myself to find a self-discipline that is inhuman. These are only a fraction of it, it takes so much more work than anyone on the outside can comprehend, and that's what I've spent trying to perfect the past year. I've been actively digging into my own soul to see what I am made of, what levels of pain I can take, how far I can push myself before I fall, if I have the mental toughness to will myself forward when every cell in my body is screaming for me to stop, to rest, to sleep, to relax. I've learned that I have ability to get hit, that I can deflect punches that would injure most, to sustain punches that would injure most, and most importantly, have the courage to keep pressing forward. Boxing has never been about money for me, it's always been about learning who I am. To the outside, if it doesn't make money it doesn't make sense, and that's fine, but to someone like me, those on the outside are weak.

Recently, I've been focusing my energy on stand-up comedy as I've been nursing a shoulder injury, once again, it doesn't pay me anything, but I enjoy it. Like boxing, there are technical aspects those on the outside don't often see, and just like boxing, it takes something most people don't have or try to develop, courage. Go in front of 50 people tomorrow and try to make suicide, war, drug overdoses, real hard hitting social issues funny, go make them laugh. See how it makes you feel standing up their with nothing but a microphone and some nerve. If I had my own HBO special, and toured the country as a comedian, I could brag at my ten year reunion about how far I've come, about how I have all my debts paid off. So many people I know would be happy if I did a bit about them in my act, or offered them a flight and free tickets to one of my shows, once again I'd be "successful" just like if I was champion of the world.

I'm done with the politics, or at least telling you about it, because soon enough they will beat on my door and arrest me for it, that's where I picture this country going. Because outside of the ring and off the stage, I don't see much bravery these days. Between the high taxes, the mandates, the surveillance of emails, phone communication, the satellite imagery than can see your backyard, the invasive search and seizures without warrants, the police brutality, the gun laws, free speech laws, drone programs, illegal wars, news companies turned commercial, refugee whistle-blowers, imprisoned whistle-blowers, CCTV expansion, drug tests, tobacco tests, mental evaluations, all spread gracefully over a land with the world's largest prison population, I don't see much freedom either.

The land of the free and home of the brave? I'll tell you what I've been doing, digging into the depths of who I am as a being, both in this world and beyond, I've been studying the geopolitical arena, following trends, mapping out what I see as a full global economic collapse, taking punches, making jokes, chasing girls, developing a destructive right hand, tweaking social commentary, reading, exploring reality, REAL reality, I stop and look at trees and stars and the Moon, I've been smelling the roses, and working tough jobs for bad pay, all with a degree, and a chip on my shoulder, and an imagination that carries me from one project to another. I've been hanging out on the big playground, living, trying to find my way, writing poetry, a book, a joke, just for a smile, a conversation, an agreement, or a connection to someone I want to know more about, because my life it boring. I'm playing, surviving, uncovering, learning. I am rich, and I am so, so disappointed that people keep trying to bring me down with their petty dimes.

Untitled Short Story from October 3rd, 2002, found in 2013

The little man asked why I had not helped him out sooner. I had no idea what he was talking, and I was rather frightened by his mania. I asked if he was real, or if I may have accidentally came into contact with some harsh paint fumes. He just laughed at my question, believing me to be facetious though I projected a serious tone. I asked him to explain why he had come to me in the night, but before I let him rant, I went to the kitchen to make sure the date, time, and all things in my house were undisturbed and in order, so I would know it wasn't a dream.

The man explained to me that he had evolved from a green bean. I thought this was of course, hard to believe, but the fact is, when a little green man is talking to you, many things become believable. It dawned on me that last week my mother made a stew with potatoes, green beans, and undetermined meat. I asked the man if it was possible my mother didn't cook the food thoroughly.

"Slow down" He said.

"Let me introduce myself before we get too far into details. My name is Gerdro, but the other 'Vegetable People' call me 'The Lean Mean, Rabid, Psycho, Green Bean'."

After hearing his nickname, I decided to refer to him as Gerdro. Gerdro told me he rose from beneath my bed, and I immediately knew how he came into existence. I. Despise. Green Beans. When my mother made stew the other day, I stuck my bowl under the bed and purposefully forgot about it, I would rather not think about green beans, let alone eat them. Now that my first question was answered, Gerdro opened a wider conversation.

He told me of a wise Carrot Man who dwelled in my kitchen, mighty Olive Warriors that have been the only 'Vegetable People' to survive after traveling to the depths of my basement, and the dreaded, Evil Potato in my brother's room, who seeks to destroy all of mankind. It was an odd and surprising story to me, but I knew something had to be done about the guy from Idaho, trying to be a hot potato and all. Gerdro explained the facts of the 'Vegetable People' to me, how long their life spans are, and al details you would want or wouldn't want to know. After two hours of 'Vegetable Speak' I decided it was time to devise a plan for the safety of the 'Vegetable People' and the preservation of mankind.

I put Gerdro in my hand and walked down into the basement to meet The Olive Warriors. During his search on the floor, Gerdro unexpectedly ran into a wild gang of peas. I heard his intimidating nickname, but was still taken back by how much of a scrapper Gerdro really was. He took out ten peas by himself, they may have been smaller, but he was outnumbered. Gerdro battled in a life and death struggle until my dog, Melvin, appeared and ate all ten of the vile pea creatures. After a ten minute search, we found The Olive Warriors, and discussed how we must stop The Evil Potato. The Warriors happily agreed, and we all decided it was time to visit The Wise Carrot.

On our journey to The Carrot, an unsettling feeling of evil lurked over my senses. The Carrot forewarned of danger, and said for a proper resistance and any hope of victory, we must travel far into the backyard to meet The Rotten Pepper Army. We grouped up with Sgt. Pepper and his men, and even convinced a few beetles in the yard to help in our struggle, giving us a sizable force. We created three divisions out of Sgt. Pepper's Army, the beetles, and The Olive Warriors, whom were slowly losing their pimento from all the travel. The plan was a three-pronged attack, much like the one Washington used to drive out the British during the Revolutionary War. As the divine Eater, I named Gerdro General of the 'Vegetable People' and we pushed on.

We made our way towards my brother's room when my companion, Sargent Pepper brought up an interesting question.

"What in tar-nation is this Potato-Bastard's weakness?"

After I waded through the judgement of Sargent Pepper's incoherent and incompetent ways of communication, I figured the question he raised was in fact important. Sargent Pepper explained there was an old worm in my parent's liquor cabinet, and that the worm could give us an extra edge. I wasn't too sure what kind of weakness a potato would have, or what kind of thinking capability a worm held, but either would have to be smarter than Sargent Pepper. To the worm we went.

The worm laid lifeless when I arrived to the cabinet. I figured right then he was dead, and we wasted our time walking back down the stairs to the cabinet. During our travels through the house, I carried our army in a zip-lock bag. We had a few altercations between Gerdro and The Pepper Army, so I had to put Gerdro on my shoulder so he would stop hazing the other troops. Gerdro slid down my arm to check on the worm. He kicked the worm in his third appendage, causing the worm to move and cough. The worm slurred his worms and couldn't seem to wiggle right. The damn thing came out of a bottle of Tequila. Deciding I had already had enough of odd visions between a dumb Pepper Army, some Olive Warriors, and a group of beetles, i killed the drunken worm. A completely wasted worm would do absolutely nothing to help the cause, so I trashed him, took complete control over the operation, and decided the visiting of random oddities around the house were done.

I quickly moved to my brother's room. I was tired and uncomfortable from all of the strange things, making me short-tempered. I searched for The Evil Potato, and sure enough, he sat fat in the closet. He had a group of potato chips with him who escaped from their bag, alongside a very tough cookie, who had a chocolate chip on his shoulder. I knew the battle would be difficult to win. The Potato laughed in a creepy and deep tone, saying nothing.

"What do you hope to accomplish Potato?!" I kind of hollered, since it was late and my family was sleeping.

The Potato gave me no reply, only a loud and evil cackle. The Potato Chips attacked and I let my army loose from their bag. After a four minute skirmish, all of the Potato Chips laid strewn over the shelf, broken both in spirit and physical form. Gerdro destryoed them single-handedly. Just before we began to push to The Potato, my dog, Melvin ran up and chomped the evil underground spud. Melvin bit down as The Potato's blood curdling scream echoed for a few inches. Melvin wasn't done there, he devoured The Potato and then turned and ran through The Olive Warriors and Sargent Pepper's Army with on shame. I didn't know what to do, so I watched in awe.

In an instant, the 'Vegetable People' were decimated, and Gerdro was nowhere to be seen. I began to feel bad as Melvin rolled over on his side, expecting a belly-rub. I realized I wasn't sad at all that these people were gone, I was in fact, glad. It was too weird having those little creepy things all around. But the real reason I rejoiced in their extermination dawned on me. The whole time I traveled with the vegetables I didn't think about the main reason why they sat around under my bed and in the basement long enough to take lively forms. Now that they were gone I remembered why they existed to begin with, it was the same reason I never stepped in to help Gerdro defeat the peas, and why I didn't care that Melvin consumed all of 'The Vegetable People'. I just took a deep breath and quietly reassured myself.

"I hate vegetables."

Message With a Bottle...of Liquid Courage.

We are nothing more than a pack of panicked shipmates, trying to avoid bursts of agony and fire as the ship, and world beneath slowly cascade into cold depths of self-confrontation. Scurried Captains and deckhands alike bicker, reckless shrills disregard orders as they collide into one another, aimlessly stumbling to the ground before frantic legs spring up and ricochet with blind intent into splintered boards and broken rails.

No man has the time or decency to ask "why" the ship is sinking, each man wades through the mess, and through the tangles of human, so caught-up in their struggling instinct to survive, most ignore the fact that it is not them, but the wooden ship they stand upon that will soon plummet asunder.

Fingers point in the cabin amongst high-ranks as lowly crew members brawl and tear one another to pieces, toppling back and forth as expensive paintings and candles crash from walls as the unstable ground they stand upon slopes and rocks, it's safety guaranteed for a moment, right before it drop from beneath and points downward into a new direction.

Flowing through the chaos is Tommy Two-Bit, a local drunkard whom' convinced the Captain he belonged on the ship and would no doubt help the voyage. Two-Bit's familiar discombobulated slinks across the deck were now well-trained steps, as each unstable board lifted beneath his feet, turning each slurred toe into a perfectly laid tow, as if he'd practiced the steps his entire life. As others fall to the splintered boards and feel hope slip away, Two-Bit gargles the last bit of whiskey before he willingly splashes into the dark water, his gangly limbs propel him into the night without a quiver or squall.

Flails and grasps for safety gradually move Two-Bit further until a loose grip on looser soot and muck pulls his knees into small rocks. From the far, Two-Bit watches flames and the desperate dumb-asses finally extinguish in the distance. Two-Bit shakes his head in a quick moment of sadness, then frantically searches his own body with shaking hands before a wide grin stretches beyond his cheeks. His smile is quickly retracted as lips cling to a bottle pulled from his jacket pocket.

For hours Two-Bit waited, waiting for another survivor to wash ashore as he stayed warm from within, drowning in brown liquid, and punishing his own tongue. Roars and wild things rustled in the jungle behind Two-Bit, deeps screams and terrors of the unknown devoured one another as he gazed deep into the wisdom of a translucent bottle. With a shrug and a slurp Two-Bit wandered into the wild, as tone-deaf songs rang into the unseen and reminded him of times better remembered.

Happy Birthday Magee! We're Pushing 30.

Happy Birthday to my good friend Kevin Magee! Being a Gemini, I've been told my whole life by the Sylvia Plaths and other mystic, overweight women in the world, that I am a twin. I always grew up thinking if anything, Kevin was my twin. We've always had a similar energy, one most people just kind of get overwhelmed trying to keep up with. We, along with our thoughts, constantly bounce around, and have some physical similarities.

Obviously, there are also some differences between Kevin and myself, I always thought he had better control, of himself, his impulses, and his own potential. I, on the other hand, constantly feel like I have no control of myself, and that instead, outside influence controls me. Paradigms and fads and all kinds of other annoyances that get in the way of true individuality seem to pull my strings. So, on this morning, on Kevin's 27th birthday, I will make an attempt to well, do something to fully sever those strings of outside influence.

It began with a beer, as it usually does, but this time at nine o' clock in the morning on a Tuesday in May, one that is quickly heating up...both the day and the beer. Here we are, pushing 30, and trying, but mostly ignoring, what exactly that means. I'm pushing 30, and soon enough I'll be pushed around by 60, and since I know I won't be touching 90, I'll consider this my mid-life crisis.As I raise a toast to my dog, who has no fucking clue what I'm doing, REO Speedwagon serenades us both with "I Can't Fight This Feeling".

No, I can't fight this feeling anymore, so let's get it out there...I am a strange dude. If I had a nickle for every time someone told me to my face"you're weird" I would be drinking a keg instead of a twelve-ounce bottle right now. So, I'm done fighting the weird, and done trying to be anything else, except for weird, because here we are, in the middle of a short-lived mid-life crisis, hating the notion of being normal. Normalcy rejects me like a Smallpox vaccine. That was such a weak, weak, analogy. So, moving on.

I used to hide sweatpants in my bookbag when I was a kid, because my parents made me wear jeans and I hated them. As soon as I got to school, the sweatpants went on. And every day, they were equally pissed, when they dropped me off in jeans, and I came home in sweatpants.

I chewed holes in all of my long sleeve shirts, and spent most of my youth playing in the woods by myself, and when I wasn't playing in the wilderness at the age of five, I was being quizzed on every state and capital in the country, every U.S. President in order, who their VP was, their wife's name, and what their occupation was before they became President. I drew sketches for hours and cried, a lot. Whiniest, most spoiled, bratty beat-red faced, stubborn little prick on the planet. I only ate grilled cheese, and cheese sticks at restaurants until I was in high school, and I probably drank more milk than water for most of my life.

I dressed in Abercrombie and used to skateboard at the same time, the first CD's I owned were: Quad City DJ's, Spice Girls, Bush, ICP, and Slick Rick. I also wanted to be a ninja for most of my childhood, and still to this day wonder "what if?" I fully applied myself at that young age to the craft, of Ninjary. I could Spiderman my way around the world. I probably still have some shred of me that believes Santa could be real, and I know "for a fact" I have had dozens of conversations with a ghost. It was a guy in his early to mid-twenties who functioned in an advisory role to me at a young age. When I was a child I told my mom I was killed by someone who was "Chinese" in my former life, and now looking back I'm not sure if it was my former life or a pre-destined fate of how this one will end.

 I like to write poetry and box, so obviously, things are still at conflict here, on this day, on Magee's 27th birthday. I ran over a bird last week by accident and still feel bad about it, but envision every car that cuts me off on the highway, flipping into the air like a Jerry Bruckheimer action-movie, bursting into flames and incinerating everyone inside. I think that if I try hard enough to envision this fatal crash, I might make it happen.

I walked out of an interview last week because I was told I would have to shave in order to get the job, and just last night I called someone an "asshole" for dying of a heat stroke, because drinking water is "day 1 shit".

I'm in love at a girl whom I barely know and haven't even seen in five months, I just talked to my dad for the first time in 8 months, and I'm not entirely convinced my dog isn't a person reincarnated. I threw a cheap shot elbow to someone's forehead the other day because I didn't like the look on his face, and when a fight almost broke out a couple weeks ago my natural instinct was to say "I'll skull-fuck you, I'll fist-fuck you, and shut that cunt's mouth!".

Not once have I felt bad about any of that.

So, here's to you Kevin, and our Gemini-ness, and all of the other personalities and oddities and other completely off-putting things that happen in this world. I think, on this day, I have realized alongside age, that I am just getting better at being immature. I think I'm going to be Middleweight Champion of the world by the age of 30, and I want to simultaneously pursue a career as a stand-up comedian.


So, I guess I've toned it down a bit from the "Ninja" pipe-dreams of the past, but seriously, being a salesman, banker, or insurance adjuster just sounds entirely too fucking normal and adult for me right now.

Special shout to Biggie Smalls (dead), Mr. T (hard), Corey Thomas (guy), Josh Hamilton (drugs), Chris Benoit (dead), Bruce Buffer (eh), Al Franken (douche), Ricky Williams (stoned), and last but certainly not least, Ronald Isley  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-qnSz6Lh5pY

Happy days of birth you random fucks.

Gobierno Amigo, Te Comprende Este Machen No Sensei? Si, Solamente Palabras. Bonzai.

El futuro del people en este pais is bleak, we are more than weak, nos puntas este mi point, lingua del no lingua, fue fuerte? Not sure, for these people are muerte, madres y padres, feces and fetuses del bebe y bebiendo tomar liquor.

I'm not drunk, I'm just cultured and lost, between times and tenses, languages and sentences Sensei, master orator of speech and what is written, whom is shittin' somewhere down the creek or crick, a brick, gently floating into the stream from which we all drink, just think, of the stink.

We're talking poetry and haiku mind you, tiempo and tempo, repetition, cognition, ignored art, and it's garbage submission. Escuchan! It does not matter what I say, I could speak clearly, and you would still fuck it up, but at least punditry can do so in the formal, a formula of success, and bebes.

Of course there is no accent on these words, for they are written! Anos and manos, hands and thoughts wasted being smitten, and in order, by the past present and future, for which I do not frankly give a damn, anymore, it will flow from now on and not be clogged by structures of bore, a night with a friend or a night with a whore, make a choice, a decision (in Spanish). Sea amigo, you are wet from the waves, salty as they may be, crashing into Japan, and the Pacific rim of no-man's land.

Comprende compadre? Take up arms against your own misunderstanding, politically correct armies of retards will beat down the doors of clarity, though they all could see absolutamente nothing on the other side before they battered their fists into pulp. Let it flow bitch, right into the nothingness of the net, and the bulk of "who cares?" that could be deleted with a button, but never translated in whole.