tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60011330784209499282024-03-12T20:30:43.507-07:00As Rob Sees ItRob has lived most of his life being chained in a dark sub-basement in a small town in the United States historical south which shall remain nameless. Now, after a daring escape, Rob is free to share with the world the depths of his insanity, as he continues his ever so noble quest for enlightenment.Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-12575336278445859512010-03-09T11:16:00.000-08:002010-03-09T12:26:51.947-08:00My First Golf Outing<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmN2byEojnPRG6LRfrnNOCAT4PuCLnOrJAcwD3QpdGBWoJpLrNv0A1Het7lWbUOcCLanZYd59haIA3HkTCl1d8xcSt2KWEf1hbRbooBPo7bthXK2r7bkrgrdHj47iKZDfya32ehj5dZeSd/s1600-h/5715d5d50dcd191a.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446715355821076466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 337px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmN2byEojnPRG6LRfrnNOCAT4PuCLnOrJAcwD3QpdGBWoJpLrNv0A1Het7lWbUOcCLanZYd59haIA3HkTCl1d8xcSt2KWEf1hbRbooBPo7bthXK2r7bkrgrdHj47iKZDfya32ehj5dZeSd/s400/5715d5d50dcd191a.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />I thought today might be a good day for some recreational activity. I thought it might be <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">especially</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">helpful</span> in relieving some of the stress I took from that horrible beating a few days ago. The Shogun of the Dark suggested that it <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">would</span> be a good idea if we played a round of golf, which he described as a useful activity for quieting the demons of the mind.<br /><br /><br />I had absolutely no idea how to go about playing golf. Furthermore, I was not even aware that such a thing existed. As much as I hated to listen to unnecessarily prolonged lectures of the Shogun of the Dark, I really didn't have a choice today.<br /><br /><br />I asked of the Shogun, "What is Golf, and how do we go about playing?"<br /><br /><br />The Shogun raised his finger in the air, as if he was about to say something. Before he uttered a word, he lowered his hand once again, and a puzzled look came upon his face. Seemingly out of nowhere, he produced a bottle of vodka. Though I would describe it as charcoal filtered, I would have to say that it was not as modestly priced as the Vodka that I was accustomed to drinking. The Shogun of the Dark took an enormous sip, and then proceeded to instruct me about golf.<br /><br /><br />"Golf is a game of power. Well... I would have to say there is more to it than that, but it would be best to think of it as such. You see, though great power is required, you must also have precision. You must limit your day to day rage in such a way that your precision should not be limited. Of course, you do not want to calm yourself to such an extent that you would have no power at all."<br /><br /><br />"The object of the game is to hit a small white ball with a club. The final destination for the white ball is a small hole, which is located a few hundred yards away from your starting point.<br />It may seem overly simplified, but there is a catch. You have to accomplish your goal with as few strokes of the club as you can muster. If you can sink the ball in the hole while using no more strokes than the recommended number, than you achieved that which is referred to as "par."<br /><br /><br />I found this all very interesting. I had to stop him for a moment for questioning.<br /><br /><br />"Okay, I get it. We need to use power to reach our destination. We need to use precision to not fuck up, so to speak. What happens if we do not attain "par?"<br /><br /><br />A very serious look came upon the face of the Shogun.<br /><br /><br />"That would be bad. If we have even one stroke over par, then you would get a "bogey." That would not be desired. If we cannot attain bogey, then you will have what is called a "double bogey."<br /><br /><br />Fascinating. Of course this led to more questions. I asked of him, "And what would happen if we do not even attain "double bogey?"<br /><br /><br />The Shogun of the dark did not answer this question immediately. He drew his <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Katana</span> sword, and looked at it for a bit. He seemed to be mulling over something that was very sinister indeed.<br /><br /><br />"It is best not to think of such things. However, do keep in mind that I have contingency plans for such unfortunate circumstances. Let's just say that any objects, and even other players in our immediate surroundings will be in great danger of suffering damage. Is that understood?"<br /><br /><br />I told him that I understood, but I was not entirely certain as to what he meant. Sometimes you just have to give others the benefit of the doubt, and trust their judgement. After all, I had never played golf before.<br /><br /><br />We started out by making our way to the clubhouse, where we were supposed to get a few provisions. we acquired a few boxes of golf balls, tees, and much to my surprise, two cases of Natural Lite. The Shogun of the Dark told me that the Natty Lite would be especially important, perhaps even more so than the rest of our previsions. We also got a golf cart, and the Shogun of the Dark even purchased a new bag of clubs.<br /><br /><br />I found that to be very odd, seeing as how the Shogun already had what appeared to be a new set of clubs. He told me that in the same way that players go through balls, tees, and Natural Lite, it also also customary to exhaust your golf clubs just as quickly. Though we had not yet begun to play, the powerful, violent nature of this game was also becoming more clear to me.<br /><br /><br />Once we had all we needed, we approached the first hole. The Shogun of the dark went to his bag of clubs, and took from the bag the largest among them. He waked to the tee box, and began his preparations. I would have to say that his <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">pre</span>-game ritual was rather <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">elaborate</span>. He placed the large club on the ground, and began a series of movements. They looked very much like martial arts combat forms, and did not seem to have anything to do with golf, even given my very limited understanding of the sport.<br /><br /><br />Finally, he took his first swing. The golf ball had great loft, and its direction was very straight. I saw the ball land next to a small flag on the other side of the first hole.<br /><br /><br />He produced an ear-to-ear grin of self contentment, and then proceeded to lecture me further.<br /><br /><br />"You see, it is not nearly as difficult as most would make it out to be. Why <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">don't</span> you try it for <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">yourself</span>?"<br /><br /><br />Sure? Why not? I walked up to the tee box, while brandishing the largest club I could find amongst the ones that the Shogun of the Dark had just purchased for me. I thought to myself over and over again, "Power... Must use my power..."<br /><br /><br />I swung as hard as I could. I did not even come close to hitting the ball. All I succeeded in doing was burying the head of the club into the tee box, approximately three feet from my teed-ball. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">I'm</span> not sure what had happened, but I am rather certain that this was not the desired outcome. When I turned once again to face the shogun of the dark, he had turned away from me, and had covered his mouth with both of his hands. I think he was trying to hold back some sort of emotion. Laughter, perhaps? I did not understand what he thought was so funny. I was most <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">assuredly</span> not on my way to "par." I thought he did not like those that could not attain par.<br /><br /><br />I tried to remove my club, which was buried deeply into the dirt. I must have used too much force once again, as the shaft became separated from the head of the club.<br /><br /><br />The Shogun of the Dark continued to laugh. There were tears in his eyes. very perplexing.<br /><br /><br />He did not say anything to me. All he did was hand me six of the Natural Lite beers that we bought at the clubhouse. He told me that I was going to have to drink all of them before I took another swing, as it would improve what he referred to as "My A-game."<br /><br /><br />I fear that this may turn out to be a long day.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><br /><div></div></div>Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-89735062393958581182010-03-07T07:05:00.000-08:002010-03-07T08:13:53.129-08:00A Very Aggravating AssaultI thought the time was right to listen to the instructions of the Shogun of the Dark, and seek out the one who may help me attain enlightenment. However, I was not entirely sure where to begin. All I had was the single clue that he gave me. What was it again? I think he said, "Go to the place where multitudes of greasy food are served at a low price?" I'm not sure where that might be. I guess I will have to ask around town.<br /><br /><br />I started out once again on foot. I made my way through my Soviet-style downtrodden slum, and came once again to the area that I would describe as not quite so downtrodden. After walking a little ways, I came upon a rather nice park. Perhaps this might be a good place to find more information about how I might go about finding that which I sought.<br /><br /><br />For no good reason at all, I assumed one of my more grotesque forms. (Remember, I can shape-shift at will)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaoQwFh2sQ6Z6X0EyGUZ3Zh6xsELGWLa4icUT17fdfQijpRMyvtTjy6qDJawT-90EvqwmWabyZoHd_JMA7ieR-PPYNOEIJIGmgtmm1_Th990OpPrTesHvMMgqQd6YafNYb5hBUBm8WRm8u/s1600-h/weird+monster.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 349px; height: 419px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaoQwFh2sQ6Z6X0EyGUZ3Zh6xsELGWLa4icUT17fdfQijpRMyvtTjy6qDJawT-90EvqwmWabyZoHd_JMA7ieR-PPYNOEIJIGmgtmm1_Th990OpPrTesHvMMgqQd6YafNYb5hBUBm8WRm8u/s400/weird+monster.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445911817000830818" border="0" /></a><br /><br /> With my new body, I lurched about the park rather menacingly. I'm such a kidder! After scanning the area for a bit, a saw an elderly man sitting on a park bench. Seeing as how he was wearing glasses and reading some sort of publication, I thought that he might now something about this strange place that serves cheap food. Slowly but surely, I dragged my horribly disfigured body in his general direction.<br /><br /> <br /> It did not seem like the old man noticed my approach. He must have been very much absorbed into his reading material. When I was only a few feet from him, I let out a baleful moan to indicate my presence.<br /><br /> <br /> A strange look came upon the man's face. Slowly, he removed his eyes from the paper and looked up at me. I'm not how I would describe his facial expression at that point. I think it is what <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Rodoslav</span> and the Shogun of the Dark would describe as dread.<br /><br /><br /> Hold on, hear me out for a second. I know that my bodily form was a bit unusual, but does everyone have to react so severely? After all, it was merely an illusion of sorts. I was going to transform back into an ordinary human being in a few minutes. I do not think there is anyone left that appreciates a good joke these days...<br /><br /><br /><br /> The old man did not answer me. After looking at me for a time, he became unresponsive. I think he stopped breathing altogether. Maybe he suffered some type of cardiac arrest? Too bad... I'm sure that he would have known something about the different types of food served in this neighborhood. No big deal though. I am fairly certain that there is some type of social service that would eventually remove his lifeless body from this park.<br /><br /><br /> I reverted back to my normal body. If I am going to learn anything at all, I would have to start taking things more seriously.<br /><br /><br /> I continued walking for a good distance. Eventually, I came upon a Shell corporation refueling station. Certainly, there would be a few individuals going about there business there. I just stood by the entrance to the store for a bit, checking out the locals. To my dismay, it did not seem that anyone there was well-informed. Some of them had strange blinking devices plugged into their ears, as they prattled on to no one in particular about nothing at all.<br /><br /><br /> Finally, my luck began to change. I saw a very expensive car pull up to one of the refueling pumps. I'm not exactly certain, but after reading publications at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Wal</span>-Mart, I think it was what is described as a "Rolls-Royce Phantom." On the back window, there was a very large decal. It read "The No Spin Zone."<br /><br /><br /> An well dressed man stepped out of the car. For a moment, he just surveyed the area, in the same way that I had been doing for the last few minutes. I suppose he figured that the perimeter was secure. Finally, he started to fill his black sedan with fuel.<br /><br /><br /> I started walking towards the man. After all, he appeared to be rather knowledgeable. When he saw me coming, a very angry look came upon his face. For the first time in a while, I was rather intimidated. Of course, I kept on going towards him. I cannot be overcome with fear if I was to accomplish my mission.<br /><br /><br /> When I was rather close to him, I tried to ask a few questions.<br /><br /><br /> "Excuse me sir....."<br /><br /><br /> Before I could ask anything, he began to yell at me.<br /><br /><br />"God Damn It! Why does everyone always have to ask for hand-outs in this town?"<br /><br /><br /> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Im</span> not sure what he meant. I did my best to clarify...<br /><br /><br /> "I just wanted to ask you if you could help me...."<br /><br /><br /><br /> Then he went on what I would best describe as some sort of tirade.<br /><br /><br /><br /> "There are to many derelicts in this country that cannot support themselves. They are all a product of the progressive liberal movement, no doubt. You see, I did the right things in life, I made the right choices. Why should I not be rewarded? Meanwhile, pieces of garbage like yourself expect productive citizens, like myself, to pick up the tab of all the worthless slobs, very much like yourself. To make matters worse, these ideas of social justice are supported by the liberal media. Now, it is starting to become socially acceptable to be a bum. You really need to overcome your sense of ill-gotten entitlement."<br /><br /><br /> I did not understand what he was saying at all. I thought it might be best if I started over and asked him what I meant to say once again.<br /><br /><br /> "You see..."<br /><br /><br /> Then, the man became completely enraged.<br /><br /><br /> "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">THATS</span> IT! Not another word! I, Bill <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">O'Reilly</span>, will destroy you, in the name of Fox News!"<br /><br /><br /> The one called Bill <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">O'Reilly</span> made a strange pose. I think he was flexing his muscles. Then, he walked over to the edge of the parking lot, and grabbed hold of a large telephone pole. What the fuck was he doing?<br /><br /><br /> Slowly but surely, he pulled the massive wooden pole out of the grown. I have not seen such a display of power since the smoking man destroyed Mr. Steven <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Segal</span>. he began to swing the pole around for a bit, breaking it free from the network of wires. sparks were flying everywhere. Everyone around us began to scream.<br /><br /><br /> I just watched in amazement as he easily handled the telephone pole. Before I could react, he swung the pole at me, hitting me directly in the face. The blow sent me reeling across the parking lot. I felt a little bit of pain for the first time in many years.<br /><br /><br /> I found myself knocked down. I thought I might should sit up, but no. Man, that was really something. I could hear Bill <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">O'Reilly</span> letting out a maniacal laugh. Seconds later, a second man emerged from the car. He was also very well dressed. He walked up to me and stood over me. Bill <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">O'Reilly</span> came to join him, and started to speak once again.<br /><br /><br /> "Hey! Guess what hot-shot? If you think this is over, you are wrong. If you ever did manage to get past me somehow, then you would still have to deal with my main man, Al <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Sharpton</span>!"<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpjwI2DO8fTIFXWR4Y_aJu3oTWui6g5A3ZkGQ3mUG77MLc059Wqd8GctO-4HXodIxXx4Ebqh_vziPpSxyeRoeledxF-xG7G-VxgkZHYo_BJdSUvx7872FDEVo8c5KSohxNqksJQS8ydmjO/s1600-h/Al+Sharpton.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 340px; height: 358px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpjwI2DO8fTIFXWR4Y_aJu3oTWui6g5A3ZkGQ3mUG77MLc059Wqd8GctO-4HXodIxXx4Ebqh_vziPpSxyeRoeledxF-xG7G-VxgkZHYo_BJdSUvx7872FDEVo8c5KSohxNqksJQS8ydmjO/s400/Al+Sharpton.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445911813257818050" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /> Al <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Sharpton</span> gave me a cold stare. after about a minute or so, he made a sinister grin. He got a little bit closer, and then began to speak.<br /><br /><br /> "Looks like you fucked up. I don't ever want to see you around here again. Your on my turf now, you hear? Ive got men stationed all over this town. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">We've</span> been <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">slingin</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">cocaine</span> since 1985. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Don't</span> try to move in and get a piece of the action. If you do, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Im</span> gonna fuck you up quick!"<br /><br /><br /> After that, both men got back into the Rolls-Royce. With tires <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">squealing</span>, the sped away down the boulevard. I do not think that either of them made any attempt to pay for gas.<br /><br /><br /> Good God. My head is spinning. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">I'm</span> going to need to go home and recover for a while. It appears that the quest for enlightenment is going to be much more difficult than I originally thought.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLhJPWfCMdfh_LgHa-TDYvckR5gqwluo2YSLvXsL9uSBwvNmBNGuGVPoqW4NnMh63o695PgYd0_oFdRytki30kZXuN_bsxz6iw1YczZPOe78DoVfNfdMFmfofCaYrPyedaDzeiGFhwyr9p/s1600-h/Angry+Bill+Oreilly.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 389px; height: 427px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLhJPWfCMdfh_LgHa-TDYvckR5gqwluo2YSLvXsL9uSBwvNmBNGuGVPoqW4NnMh63o695PgYd0_oFdRytki30kZXuN_bsxz6iw1YczZPOe78DoVfNfdMFmfofCaYrPyedaDzeiGFhwyr9p/s400/Angry+Bill+Oreilly.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445911807505796354" border="0" /></a>Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-68943247812920316282010-03-05T07:13:00.000-08:002010-03-05T08:11:15.754-08:00The Quest For Enlightenment<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHr-YgtZxTncvMBFua9ELnEIDvYNd0iFG74GDgG-sq8GfymUnzsKYhISo-hd2D7w9a1_Ly_MUkG7Wc8oq_WBRjqdN2co-1TehTmV3KHW5y8qScQhpuBGgReHCLcw3JO2LrAfT3fSj9i3L9/s1600-h/Zen+dude.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 311px; height: 352px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHr-YgtZxTncvMBFua9ELnEIDvYNd0iFG74GDgG-sq8GfymUnzsKYhISo-hd2D7w9a1_Ly_MUkG7Wc8oq_WBRjqdN2co-1TehTmV3KHW5y8qScQhpuBGgReHCLcw3JO2LrAfT3fSj9i3L9/s400/Zen+dude.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445168423132078354" border="0" /></a><br /><br /> I have had about all the film viewings I could stand for one day. Five consecutive meaningless movies will do that to you. I decided that It might be best if I somehow continued my life.<br /> <br /><br /> I was not sure what to do. For the first time, I had sensed a form of emptiness. Though I drank quite a bit of Natural Lite, and read many Garfield comics, it did not seem to help. In a way, I started to feel as depraved and perplexed of the cartoon characters that I had laughed at for so long.<br /><br /><br /> It seemed to be a good time to pay a visit to the Shogun of the Dark. He seems to be quite skilled at offering guidance. I would actually go so far to say that he took great pleasure in offering guidance, guidance which was not usually requested. Supposedly, that is what Shoguns have been known to do, historically.<br /><br /><br /> Upon meeting the Shogun, I told him of my dilemma, of the strange uneasiness that I was not accustomed to. I went on to say that I was not experiencing fear; it was more of a yearning for a greater sense being. Though I had been sleeping more easily, I was not as convinced as how I might go about living. Many of my activities as of late seemed to cause me to hear a strange echo, so to speak. It was if a hollow voice has been saying "fool" as I go about my business.<br /><br /> <br /> Of course, I did tell him about my perceived enlightenment. Though I most assuredly have not attained awakening, there was something... different. When I took a walk in my neighborhood that day, I had achieved something that was very unusual for me. Somehow, I had attained a more peaceful mind. Of course, it was never my intention to do so. I always took great pride in how much rage I could produce. You see, anger is a much more useful emotion than despair. It was my primary driving force for many years.<br /><br /> <br /> Upon hearing this, The Shogun just looked at me for a time. I returned his glance, looking deep into his bloodshot eyes. Very strange. Though most humans would describe this as an awkward moment, I did not feel that way. After a few minutes, he brandished a bottle of modestly-priced charcoal-filtered vodka, holding it in my direction. It seemed that he wanted me to drink.<br /><br /> <br /> Though my first reaction was to reach for it, I was somehow able to stop myself. It did not seem that would be the best course of action at this point in time.<br /><br /> <br /> After he saw that I refused, the Shogun of the Dark put the bottle away. It was at this point when he began to speak...<br /><br /> <br /> "Rob, it appears that you are in need of a Zen master. The time is right, as you have proven to us both that you have a need and a desire for an awakening. Unfortunately, I cannot be the one to help you. You see, that which you need to escape is too deeply rooted within my being. Mine is the path of anger, vengeance, drinking, and power. especially drinking... You must seek another.<br />Do not fear, however. I know of such a man. To find him, go to the place where a multitude of greasy food is sold at a low price. If you go there, he will find you... "<br /><br /><br /> Upon finishing speaking, the Shogun got into his very large diesel powered Ford F-250. He powered up the truck, and revved up the engine as powerfully as he could. Then, he left his driveway, and began to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">zig</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">zag</span> down the block. In doing so, he crushed many mailboxes and lawn ornaments, much to the horror of the others in the neighborhood.Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-90017578260526019382010-03-04T05:05:00.000-08:002010-03-04T05:50:40.453-08:00Time for more Film Learnin!<span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I was faced with yet another day of worthlessness. Though it did help that I was now technically employed, I was a bit uneasy. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Rodoslav</span> was out at the underground facility as expected, manufacturing some newfangled plague, no doubt. It is very unfortunate that I am not yet as productive as he. Just because he has advanced knowledge of medicine and biology does not mean that I cannot be just as effective at doing harm to the environment that surrounds us.<br /><br /><br /> In the meantime, I thought I might learn a bit more about culture. I had learned quite a bit last time I took it upon myself to watch a few films. Why not do it again?<br /><br /><br /> I made my way to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Wal</span>-Mart. I knew for a fact that there was a good amount of merchandise there. Though it was of low quality, I did not care. After all, I would not be paying for anything. I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">simply</span> used my shape shifting abilities and simply copied the body and voice of one of the employees there.<br /><br /><br /> Once I got home with my ill-gotten goods, I made for myself a nice pile of straw and newspaper in front of the television set. Time for stealing was now over. Now was time for learning.<br /><br /><br /> <br /></span></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcWt_D_z0-Xfr-86LrXlEGDbWnnWzgP86aDJysqiRTK20Bq84QMlFmjE5OR6TsC-lJJvEVl4IG-RjdSSovKKymEtoEOJ6o8zBpvEq3fv41Sd1I0TkqAjakz7pGEN01i9yKeXEgVcaUZANY/s1600-h/terminator+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 307px; height: 247px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcWt_D_z0-Xfr-86LrXlEGDbWnnWzgP86aDJysqiRTK20Bq84QMlFmjE5OR6TsC-lJJvEVl4IG-RjdSSovKKymEtoEOJ6o8zBpvEq3fv41Sd1I0TkqAjakz7pGEN01i9yKeXEgVcaUZANY/s400/terminator+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444766127130315762" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /> The first film I watched was titled "Terminator 2" I was not sure why at first, but it became clear to me after only the first few minutes. In the near future, mankind will still go about maintaining its pathetic existence. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Unbeknowst</span> to them, two different computerized factions from different dimensions have sent two super-powered humanoid machines to kill each other, for no reason at all.<br /><br /><br /> Despite this, I very much enjoyed it. One of the machines looked like a large muscular man, but was actually a powerfully built robot skeleton underneath. His typical routine involved stealing the clothes, sunglasses, and motorcycles of others. What happens if you do not comply? Trust me! You don't want to find out!<br /><br /><br /> The other machine appears to be a smaller man, dressed as an average law enforcement officer. However, he is actually much more powerful. He has the ability to alter his body on what appears to be the molecular level. Hell, even I cant do that! I think his best characteristic was how he always felt the need to transform his arms into sharp blades, and cause puncture wounds in others.<br /><br /><br /> The Robots continue to fight each other. Eventually, one of them wins.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvkjuK65oIsVdaumHIXHrzs9xcy-mbVCzNPdSb4w-ZF3ar_XYWKdc9pVS2RWZncNQjPFIbemFRhdcSghIwsi-MTnbglCMGKRTZzr8Ywuxvyr6JUAQ8k4OKo0dx2FGMhYym0-xR2zd-OBql/s1600-h/planes+trains.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 339px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvkjuK65oIsVdaumHIXHrzs9xcy-mbVCzNPdSb4w-ZF3ar_XYWKdc9pVS2RWZncNQjPFIbemFRhdcSghIwsi-MTnbglCMGKRTZzr8Ywuxvyr6JUAQ8k4OKo0dx2FGMhYym0-xR2zd-OBql/s400/planes+trains.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444766126325881842" border="0" /></a><br /> <br /><br /> The second film was called "Planes Trains and Automobiles." It all seemed very odd to me. Most of the movie involved the struggle of an average sized well-to-do man who struggled to escape from an obese and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">unsuccessful</span> fellow. You would think that little guy would find some way to evade that fat slob. It <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">doesn't</span> happen though, as he is accosted in many different places, such as planes, trains, and of course, even automobiles. Are there no laws of restraint in this country? I suppose not.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6UHRU30rjZnA8y2t1GqNnlY1JU__sL_dt1p3St_XRdeX80FNg_cU3L-AtpnSD3oB-6Be8n4wWtszM8olgST18JvtlFL_jjc4JlnjJQ8FoYf_oz240S2cs4Z6WwMs5kJ-7Yy08qpwhiRMw/s1600-h/fast+and+the+furious.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 304px; height: 289px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6UHRU30rjZnA8y2t1GqNnlY1JU__sL_dt1p3St_XRdeX80FNg_cU3L-AtpnSD3oB-6Be8n4wWtszM8olgST18JvtlFL_jjc4JlnjJQ8FoYf_oz240S2cs4Z6WwMs5kJ-7Yy08qpwhiRMw/s400/fast+and+the+furious.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444766121309890466" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /> The third movie was called "The Fast and The Furious." This has got to be my favorite movie so far. The plot involved nothing more than a collection of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">derelicts</span> who drove overpowered cars on public highways for no reason other than to appear cool. I think it is fantastic that they did not limit their insanity to a closed race track. They treated every second of every day as if it was their last. Clearly, the Shogun of the Dark would approve.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpLnQp_etKLHra7da7myHNfkWoNwUFtOWTmRa2F9WBwdedihjWnqLkbyoQ_jRTF05fwPU-OZUM1OuSdBqNnPnZOLySc-3pwqhyphenhyphen7vp8VHIhYp-gXOPN3g7z1bK9ay2A_wqZXqw4EKfNsLLI/s1600-h/fear+and+loathing.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 289px; height: 347px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpLnQp_etKLHra7da7myHNfkWoNwUFtOWTmRa2F9WBwdedihjWnqLkbyoQ_jRTF05fwPU-OZUM1OuSdBqNnPnZOLySc-3pwqhyphenhyphen7vp8VHIhYp-gXOPN3g7z1bK9ay2A_wqZXqw4EKfNsLLI/s400/fear+and+loathing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444766117705721890" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /> The fourth film was titled, "Fear and Loathing in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Las</span> Vegas." I did not know what to make of this one. Of course, I am in no way trying to condemn this movie. It was simply about two guys who were having as much fun as two human being could be expected to have.<br /><br /><br /> You know, I was never exposed to this side of life before. Though I am not one to complain, I have been told on more than one occasion that my life is unnecessarily difficult. I thought It was a relief to see a happy-go-lucky comedy such as this.<br /><br /><br /> When the movie began, the two men had just fallen under the sway of the powerful drugs that they had consumed a few moments earlier. I wish I was there. They were driving a neat looking automobile through the desert carelessly. It was not completely unlike "The Fast and the Furious."<br /><br /> Many different substances of abuse were mentioned. They spoke of "Uppers, downers screamers and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">laughers</span>." Of course, I have no idea what that means. However, it seems like they would be even more enjoyable than Natty Lite. I will probably ask <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Rodoslav</span> about obtaining some for myself in the future. He had better comply.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWHWsCNzRkGtzJPnqnIao8Zbsh6r6jLLhyZhNIqGM1VpcjLHlvWFl_D8uG9EtmzrqXMBz026kS2ltCw45ASL6hbiGWk5hGFV-qfklZ6krun85Ko5YGj9jrs-rJs0fDE1JgE_z11TMoiC6I/s1600-h/Braveheart.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 215px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWHWsCNzRkGtzJPnqnIao8Zbsh6r6jLLhyZhNIqGM1VpcjLHlvWFl_D8uG9EtmzrqXMBz026kS2ltCw45ASL6hbiGWk5hGFV-qfklZ6krun85Ko5YGj9jrs-rJs0fDE1JgE_z11TMoiC6I/s400/Braveheart.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444766109328502386" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /> The last film I watched was a movie called "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Braveheart</span>." I would have to say it was very informative. It is a tale of two different parts of a region who cannot seem to agree upon one thing or another. In my best estimation, The main conflict seemed to be about which town was to be named the capital of the nation: The poorly constructed town of straw or the poorly constructed town of wood and stone.<br /><br /><br /> Long ago, armies fought each other in strange ways. Two armies gathered in a field, and stared upon one another for quite some time. You see, the melee combat was purely secondary, and not <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">necessarily</span> expected. The real fight was one by the two men who gathered in the middle of the field between the two armies. Whoever was able to make the most complicated sign language was declared the victor.Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-72850862976632377032010-02-23T09:50:00.000-08:002010-02-23T10:12:42.470-08:00I continue my meaningless life<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgODnpLTtV-S2D3ARGIsP0dOiBvKjpsRdw9sRlibfHN1MDTp6pxb25BZGK7Rb6PxV996JSTMjQupJWK-DnqmmWSBMpSYFNu16xasycJdlC06JnpDn51nUF8ZmOVHNVlFgxdbqJ_yhMY8vJJ/s1600-h/Pretty+flower.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 301px; height: 340px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgODnpLTtV-S2D3ARGIsP0dOiBvKjpsRdw9sRlibfHN1MDTp6pxb25BZGK7Rb6PxV996JSTMjQupJWK-DnqmmWSBMpSYFNu16xasycJdlC06JnpDn51nUF8ZmOVHNVlFgxdbqJ_yhMY8vJJ/s400/Pretty+flower.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441497849659723138" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> <span style="font-size:130%;">I slept fairly well last night.</span> It seems that plummeting from a helicopter and crashing through the roof of your house does wonders for Insomnia.<br /><br /> <br /> I awoke extremely refreshed. It did not bother me that my home was in shambles. Seeing as how I had a free day on my hands, I decided to make the best of it. I thought this would be a perfectly good opportunity to wonder around my neighborhood and contemplate life.<br /><br /><br /> It seemed that only after walking a short distance, the poverty level that I was accustomed to was greatly reduced. I began to notice cars that have not suffered severe damage, and also yards that did not have an endless amount of garbage scattered about. It is strange how human beings can behave so differently from one area to the next.<br /><br /><br /> As I continued to walk, a great change had come about me. I was no longer tormented as severely by the demons of my own mind. Their chatter seemed to be lessened. I did not understand how this was possible. After all, I had not consumed a double ration of Natty Lite in quite some time.<br /><br /><br /> Furthermore, It seemed that my concentration had become enhanced. Walking down the sidewalk had become an act in itself. To clarify, I focused on that which I saw. I heard that which I heard. No longer was I concerned with the economy. I was now able to detect minute <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">occurrences</span> that I was previously blind to.<br /><br /><br /> After walking a good half-hour, I also noticed that I had achieved a higher state of self-awareness. On the slight occasion when my mind had begun to drift, I took notice. I had acquired the ability to become a passive observer of my thoughts. With this new ability, I could analyze my more bizarre musings from a detached perspective. This was, of course, very fortunate, seeing as how the vast majority of my thoughts were filled with rage and were without merit.<br /><br /><br /> After two hours, I returned home. Though my first desire was to rapidly consume an extreme amount of modestly-priced charcoal filtered vodka, I was able to avert this calamity. I acted like a gentleman and a scholar. I took it upon myself to clean my filthy domicile instead. After all, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Rodoslav</span> was content with being a notorious slob.<br /><br /> <br /> After cleaning the bathrooms and living area, I thought it might be best to prepare a meal. Instead of consuming my normal meal of raw cod-fish, discarded ham-bones, and Vienna Sausages, I thought I might try that which is referred to as "cooking."<br /><br /><br /> I turned the burners on my stove to maximum temperature. Upon the stove, I placed a small pot, filled with liquid fat. After the fat had achieved the desired heat, I tossed in some pieces of sliced up chicken. In my best estimation, these chickens were not lovingly killed. I believed they suffered from some type of industrial-based destruction.<br /><br /> <br /> I watched the chicken sizzle. Normally, in these circumstances, I would imagine as if the bodies of my adversaries were in the pot, sizzling away. Now I simply regarded it as pieces of mechanically sliced up chicken. Nothing more, nothing less. Its amazing how you can find such simplistic beauty in such an unlikely place.Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-43118598374576313652010-02-21T13:37:00.001-08:002010-02-21T13:46:31.664-08:00The Great Climax of My JourneyThere I was, curiously looking up at the sky. The helicopter had begun to make its final descent. As it neared the ground, I heard talk from many of the crew members that were surrounding us. <br /><br />“It’s HIM. HE is coming HERE?”<br /><br />“I thought he was supposed to be in Tokyo right now!”<br /><br />“It looks like Mr. Segal fucked up… Bad.”<br /> <br />The helicopter finally touched down. As the engines de-powered, the door slowly began to open, and a strange group of men stepped out of the chopper. They were all dressed in what seemed to be expensive attire. They wore mirrored sunglasses, and all had strange wires going from their ears down into their shirts. Not only that, but they were all bald. Oh yeah, they all pale-grey colored skin.<br /> <br />After the strange men made their way out of the chopper, they were followed by another curious individual. He wore severely-expensive business attire, much more so than the others. Upon his face, there was a very odd, but determined expression. He stood us down for what seemed to be an eternity. All the while, he smoked an extraordinary number of cigarettes. With only one inhalation, he consumed an entire cigarette. After smoking what I estimate to be at least fifty packs of cigarettes, he was ready to get down to business.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIQ602SaMgfsCoQGvFwQu7vIBUNLx6oP1a4UPILnqtAuxUzbaUIa3G3kl0qPn_6R0ihyphenhyphenc5W4xRp4scIkdrcGeTYG7GQGQjM3ncXWqYOmbgGflNOMTcXq-SLjQIeJFr6Ry1dwWJCqJS3gGE/s1600-h/Smoking+man.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440814370617482882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 368px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 302px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIQ602SaMgfsCoQGvFwQu7vIBUNLx6oP1a4UPILnqtAuxUzbaUIa3G3kl0qPn_6R0ihyphenhyphenc5W4xRp4scIkdrcGeTYG7GQGQjM3ncXWqYOmbgGflNOMTcXq-SLjQIeJFr6Ry1dwWJCqJS3gGE/s400/Smoking+man.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div> </div><div> </div><div>Before this powerful man began to speak, I saw a look of dread come upon the three men who had extracted me from my room. However, it seemed that the large man with the large sword was by far the most fearful. He was trembling uncontrollably. A large wet spot had formed on the crotch-region of his pants. It continued to grow in size, and it eventually leaked from his pants down onto the deck of the ship. I am not sure of the implications of this. I will have to ask either Rodoslav or the Shogun as to what their opinion is later.<br /> </div><div>The smoking man looked directly into the eyes of the man with the sword. He began to speak.<br /> </div><div>“Mr. Segal… I see that you have not prepared for my arrival…”<br /> </div><div>Mr. Segal meekly replied,<br /> </div><div>“Sir… I was not informed that you would be coming here… Please… forgive me…”<br /> </div><div>The Smoking man started his routine once again. This time he only smoked five packs of cigarettes. However, he was done in less than three minutes this time.<br /> </div><div>“Mr. Segal… Your management of this vessel, So far it has been… sub-par”<br /> </div><div>The one with the sword seemed to be at a loss for words. Slowly, he began to speak again.<br /> </div><div>“Sir! We have been trying our best! Look how many slaves I have acquired for you!”<br /><br /> The smoking man did not seem to be impressed.<br /></div><div> “Hahaha… Yes, you have quite a handful hear… And not a single one of them meets our expectations.”<br /> </div><div>Mr. Segal tried his best to find some type of saving grace.<br /> </div><div>“But sir… wait… there is one among us here who you may find promising! He is the one standing here before us!”<br /> </div><div>Mr. Segal pointed directly to me. After which, the smoking man walked closer towards me. He looked at me for a time, and then returned to the one with the sword.<br /> </div><div>“This? You expect me to be impressed by him? Why should I listen to your nonsensical prattle? But wait… Perhaps something can be arranged. Yes… A Test! A test of sorts. Perhaps you should challenge him in single combat. Maybe then I would be inclined to listen to you…”<br /><br /> </div><div>Suddenly, an evil grin overtook the one with the sword.<br /></div><div>“Yes. Certainly, my master!”<br /> </div><div>Mr. Segal approached me slowly. He was standing only a couple of meters away from me, and then began a bizarre display. He held is sword high in the air, and began a sort of strange chant.<br /><br /> “Hear me now dark gods! I am seeking your power. In the name of Baal, Malek, and Zuleban, I will prove myself worthy! I shall not fear flame, arrow, or the blade of my enemies. I will play the greatest of all games and win! By the power vested in me henceforth, I shall attain the Ninth Gate!<br /> </div><div>While he spoke, the clouds began to darken. I heard much thunder in the distance, which rapidly got closer and closer. After he finished his speech, he raised his sword as high as he could. Then, a bolt of lightning struck his sword. Now, it began to glow bright blue.<br /> </div><div>Then he pointed his large glowing sword towards me. It was unlike anything I had ever witnessed. Grinning from ear to hear, he began to slice the air in my general direction.<br /> </div><div>I wasn’t very certain as to what I should have done at this point. It seemed like he was taking it too far for your average work related hazing. I figured that it would be best if I didn’t even fight back. I thought that my job security would be severely compromised if I were to hurt any of my new supervisors. After all, I had only been on the clock for a few days.<br /> </div><div>Mr. Segal began to get angry with me.<br /></div><div>“I see. So you will not fight me. I now have no choice but to destroy you!”<br /><br /> </div><div> Mr. Segal struck me with an immense fury. His Sword went clear through my body. Along the slash line the blue glow had illuminated my body. A disgusting green liquid dripped forth from my torso. Very strange, that never happened to me before.<br /> </div><div>While the green liquid dripped, the man with the sword began to laugh. He began to taunt me.<br /> </div><div>“Look at you now! How does it feel? Know that you are destroyed by the mighty one, he that carries the one and only Dark Masamune!”<br /> </div><div>Of course, I not sure what he meant by destruction. The green liquid had already stopped flowing, and my body began rapidly regenerating as usual. When Mr. Segal realized this, his jaw dropped in horror.<br /> </div><div>“No. It can’t be! This cannot be! Absolutely impossible!”<br /> </div><div>He threw his sword to the ground. He made a wail of agony, pulling out his hair. Meanwhile, the smoking man began to laugh.<br /> </div><div>“Mwahahaha… It looks like your display of arrogance was all for nothing, Mr. Segal!”<br /> </div><div> I would have to say at this point that the one with the blade knew he was completely fucked.<br /> </div><div>“Sir! Forgive me! Who could have foreseen this?<br /> </div><div>The smoking man’s expression suddenly changed from one of laughter to one of intense severity.”<br /> </div><div>“It appears that you have forfeited your right to command this ship, Mr. Segal!”<br /> </div><div>The sword carrying man dropped to his knees, in an attempt to beg for forgiveness.<br /> </div><div>“Sir! Please! Forgive me! Let me show to you that I am still worthy!”<br /> </div><div>As I expected, No mercy would be forthcoming.<br /> </div><div>“I no longer wish to entertain further possibilities for you, Mr. Segal!”<br /></div><div> The next thing that happened was a display of power that I will never forget. The smoking man lowered his arms, and then clinched his fists. It seemed like the man was building some type of powerful energy, which was hidden within is fragile exterior. Then, he opened his mouth very wide, and a bright light started to be projected outwards. Finally, a very large energy beam was fired at Mr. Segal. It was kinda wacky. It reminded me of those cartoons that the Shogun of the Dark tried to show me. I think it was called “Dragon’s Balls Z”</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440814362255274322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 376px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 294px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDSdRgoF2OB3iCSjJYZwY9gdb0CidMyvSAS0T79hB1IxRWaC-wClyfZKLDt6Gkmc0AKbq0XvjCfI5XWoeLAyjAQK0pvgeoFUQlPqBnSLHIHzMOBPv8y1LJTi4wdGWoPaOmKl6NT4jeOdlV/s400/Recoome+Boom.jpg" border="0" /></div><div><br /><br /><div> </div><div> . After the smoking man finished his attack, there was not much left of Mr. Segal. All that was left were a few charred bits of teeth and Bone. The blast had also destroyed a good bit of the deck of the ship, and a large part of the control tower as well.<br /> </div><div>After dusting himself off, the smoking man walked up to me.<br /> </div><div>“So, you’re the new guy? It seems that you are much more capable than we expected. I like you. Perhaps you would like a desk job here at Chronos Corporation. You shall become very powerful. Many shall tremble before you.”<br /> </div><div>I didn’t have to think very long about this one. The Shogun of the Dark always told me that when opportunity presents itself to you, you must be ready.<br /> </div><div>“Sure, why not?”<br /> </div><div>Awesome. Fucking Awesome. Things are looking up.<br /><br /> </div><div> The smoking man offered me a ride back home in his helicopter. He apologized for the excessive “hazing”, saying that who I am is not who they thought I was. I told him it was no big deal. I actually find it rather entertaining. The smoking man took great laughter at this.<br /> </div><div> The helicopter had arrived back at my home city. We hovered above my house at about a distance of at least 500 feet. One of the grey skinned men opened the helicopter door. The smoking man threw me off the chopper, and I plummeted towards the roof of my domicile.<br /> After a severe impact, I found myself back in my room. I thought that it kind of sucked that my roof was destroyed, but I figured that I might be able to pay to have it repaired, seeing as how I was now gainfully employed.</div></div>Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-72962704418094065152010-02-19T10:32:00.000-08:002010-02-19T12:02:03.169-08:00<span style="font-size:180%;">The Dark Swordsman</span><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4DPFl0_BTUQ1svWnQgUI3ldTUe4AiZpN4NLwiBBX7WkziINDHX1YMu0JHfhDaJbenRW3KTp4gwOQYIZpAXfhgM3TBVwCf7pPsfJzPpKMfsJo8sLvXLA1jrKra6ETlfKBRRjQmhcXchzs6/s1600-h/Doom+Cell.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440045268027310546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 386px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 317px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4DPFl0_BTUQ1svWnQgUI3ldTUe4AiZpN4NLwiBBX7WkziINDHX1YMu0JHfhDaJbenRW3KTp4gwOQYIZpAXfhgM3TBVwCf7pPsfJzPpKMfsJo8sLvXLA1jrKra6ETlfKBRRjQmhcXchzs6/s400/Doom+Cell.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /> I was now well on my way to my new life. Seeing as how I was very exhausted from the "hazing" I had experienced on the journey thus far, I decided to make myself comfortable. I could not help at marvel at the idea that I had my very own bed. Even if it was only temporary, it still blew my mind. Seeing as how I had become quite accustomed to sleeping on newspaper and straw in Rodoslav's apartment, this was a new height of luxury. <br /> I lay down on my bunk, and began to ponder what might lie ahead of me. I heard one of the "instructors" saying something about how everyone in group "Laborat" would be working 18 hour shifts. Could this really be true? I cannot believe my good fortune! Most of my days up to this point had been filled with quite a bit of idle time. I had spent many dark hours pondering many bad things. I think I may have taken it a little too far when I started planning the downfall of all mankind. Of course now, it seemed, those days might be over. Its time to start being a productive human Being! <br /> I managed to fall asleep rather quickly. I found this rather surprising seeing as how I did not have any rations of Natural Light available. Praise be to Thmetul Nesulehomon our Instructors had the good sense to give us a good little work out. <br /> I slept for what seemed to be an eternity. When I woke, I found myself experiencing a very odd sensation. Somehow, I had fallen out of my bunk. Furthermore, the decaying waste from the toilet had spilled all over me. Very bizarre. When I stood up, I was met with yet another surprise. I found that I could not stand. I was being slammed about my small chamber repeatedly. What mighty force could be responsible for this? Is this the work of he who is not? However, in only a short time, I began to realize what was going on. The only possibility was that I was aboard a very large ship. Of course, I had never seen one, but I heard both Rodoslov and the Shogun of the Dark speak of them before. I had no idea that there could be such massive sea-going vessels. Even though I was blind-folded on my journey up to this point, I got a good sense of the size of the vessel when I was escorted to my room. I also figured that all of the others from groups "Laborat" and "La Morte" must be on this ship. I am very glad that I was given my own room. I don’t even want to think about how annoying the gasps of horror would be from those idiots.<br /> After about 12 hours in the violent seas, I heard my door begin to open. I saw three large men standing before my door. The first two were about the same size. I would have to say that they were just slightly over six feet and weighed at least two-hundred and fifty pounds. However, the third man was far larger than they. He was not only taller, but he was much broader and muscle bound. He even carried a severely large sword.<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiIY2VTb3x_kWXaVfsluT2_yCfscNpgR412yaaZytbfcnXo6ahmcHSvsh68iZHklWoQO9KNKaeR3HxiqtWXVTp0Ohy_EKLn1AWCu-KJhdu9esMV5lQr5smUAXTxGNzqetX3sJvNxg9tGJb/s1600-h/Steven+Seagal.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440045151809387938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 285px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 341px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiIY2VTb3x_kWXaVfsluT2_yCfscNpgR412yaaZytbfcnXo6ahmcHSvsh68iZHklWoQO9KNKaeR3HxiqtWXVTp0Ohy_EKLn1AWCu-KJhdu9esMV5lQr5smUAXTxGNzqetX3sJvNxg9tGJb/s400/Steven+Seagal.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1lEFt-wZbbNDncYaCnT1jJRQdPx4NsJbfZrrS24cudSipMweiwrsBhsOY88xoI6wK9UY-GsGqgPgY90lIxe8AYVHZRBDDbIPMWCYBH1xXb1NeVurkbEKvqOvIJ8jn0jy1tSTNeAt6FvU_/s1600-h/Steven+Seagal.jpg"></a><div><br /> With one hand, the largest of the men grabbed me, pulled me out of my cell, and then threw me violently up against the wall. I would have to say that his technique is superb, far better than the relatively small man that slammed me back at the apartment. After which, he commenced the barrage of yelling as was customary. "MOVE! FUCKING MOVE! I thought to myself, "It’s about time!" </div><div> I began a brisk job down the corridor, with the two large men at my side and the larger man in the rear. We continued at a good pace until we came to a metal stairway. This must have been the same one that I came down about a day earlier. We made our way to the top, coming to a hatch. One of the men opened the hatch, which revealed blinding sunlight. We were now on the main deck of the ship. It was a very unusual spectacle to behold. The vessel had a massive deck. It seemed to at least one thousand feet long. Behind me, about a few hundred feet, stood a large tower-like building sitting upon the deck. On the tip of it I saw an object that appeared to me to be a very large, but shallow dish. Protruding forth from the center of the dish was a pole-like device. Of course, I was met with a heavy blow to the back of the skull before I could take in any more of my surroundings.</div><div> The instrument used was none other than the grip of insanely large sword from the insanely large man. Okay, here me out for a second here. Normally, I like to play along with the so called "hazing" that is customary for new employees, members and such. However, one thing that you must know is that in my present form, I am invulnerable from taking damage as a result of blunt force trauma. I tried to imitate what ordinary humans refer to as pain for the sake of this so called "initiation", but they seemed to be rather perplexed. </div><div> The largest of the men could not stop looking at me in amazement. The smaller men seemed to feeling some sort of dread. Come on guys! Cheer up! It seemed to be a good day at sea. Why not enjoy it I thought? Before anyone could take any action, a very mysterious looking man had come forth from the control tower. I wonder what this is all about.<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHtGPfg02ySOpUCE78NFvaMoaYqt4wr-p20AN-DiJMHf_s4yvYqjRGIwyQ26qKQ0QQzKJlnw5Sg49ELwlJUb5g9raZMByhAoK5SYSekqtHqQUbGOnVtbKjDdNUzvwVZ6IZvpVYumwqchi2/s1600-h/Doom+Cell.jpg"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />We Arrive at Our Destination</span><br /><br /><br /></div></div>Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-83970048717433581632010-02-18T09:52:00.000-08:002010-02-18T10:38:33.343-08:00<span style="font-size:180%;"> My Fantastic Journey</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ribpq8CHcm29lYRBkvZ32B6x5CaBcWo7lJeIqzd22W0WYYs78Z7g9Ucfzz76m9YxGmUpXS4z7rEcZcCsQRzs9uquyxtTxQkI0Q4irsAVv2AupEMmFeIr38xpURBsbDQEEOwmPPH3Uazc/s1600-h/_china_prison_toy_factory_25.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439643290863660194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 424px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 303px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ribpq8CHcm29lYRBkvZ32B6x5CaBcWo7lJeIqzd22W0WYYs78Z7g9Ucfzz76m9YxGmUpXS4z7rEcZcCsQRzs9uquyxtTxQkI0Q4irsAVv2AupEMmFeIr38xpURBsbDQEEOwmPPH3Uazc/s400/_china_prison_toy_factory_25.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> Today I continued making progress towards gainful employment. Of course, in order to reach my destination, I had to endure a rather long ride in the back of a truck. I cannot give you any details about the truck, seeing as how I had a black sack secured over my head, but it was nothing spectacular. </div><div align="left"> The ride was not smooth at all. It became so bumpy at times many of the other occupants in the truck had slammed against me. This was not something entirely bothersome in itself, but I found the screaming rather annoying. Every single time the truck shook, just about all the other <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">passengers</span> felt the need to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">shriek</span>. Give me a break. We hit a major bump at least every two minutes, but it did not seem to occur to them that we were going to hit another one. If they would have shut up at least for a good hour, then I probably would have been able to take a decent nap.</div><div align="left"> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">I'm</span> not sure how long we were in the truck. In my best estimation we were in there for at least sixteen hours. The latter part of the ride was a little smoother, but the rest of the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">pass angers</span> did not seem to care. There was always somebody yelling "Let us Out!" or either, "Why are they doing this to us?" For the love of God... were going to work <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">doofus</span>! If they <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">don't</span> like it, then they should go do something else. After all, its a free country, or at least <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">I'm</span> told by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Rodoslav</span>.</div><div align="left"> Finally, the truck stopped. We had to wait at least another hour before anything happened. Then, I heard the sound of the back of the truck opening. Shortly afterwards, a very loud voice shouted, "Ha Ha, enjoyed the ride?" Its good to know that at least our employers had a sense of humor. Yes, our <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">accommodations</span> were not five-star, but at least they were willing to admit it.</div><div align="left"> The next thing I know, I was struck on my back by a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">sizable</span> club. There they go again with the hazing. What <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">jokesters</span>. After being dragged out of the truck, we had to walk a good distance. All the while I heard, "Move! Move your FUCKING ASS!" I know for a fact they were not talking to me. I could tell from the screams in the back of the line that they were reprimanding some of the slackers.</div><div align="left"> Then, I was led up a large ramp. After reaching the top, I was told to stop by one of our instructors, screaming at the top of his lungs as usual. We had to stand and wait for a good little bit afterwards. After about six hours of standing at attention, I again heard a loud voice. "EVERYBODY LISTEN UP! You will be separated into two groups! All the strong men shall be group '<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Laborat</span>.' All of the disabled, women, and children shall be group 'La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Morte</span>'</div><div align="left"> I was placed into group "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Laborat</span>" After having a rope tied around my neck, I was dragged until I reached what seemed to be small corridor. I was brought down a narrow metal-sounding stairway, and then we stopped. I heard a metallic door open, after which I was shoved through the small door. My Instructors removed the black sack from my head, left the small chamber, and slammed the door shut behind them.</div><div align="left"> Once again I could see. I got a chance t<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">o</span> familiarize myself with my surroundings. None too shabby. There was board chained to the wall, on which there was a thin mattress. In the corner, there was a metal toilet. Though it was filled with foul decaying waste, I was actually rather pleased. Ive never had my own bed and toilet. </div><div align="left"> I cannot wait until I get to write a letter home to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Rodoslav</span>. I would very much like to thank him for this opportunity.</div>Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-69401396011253151212010-02-17T16:18:00.000-08:002010-02-17T17:52:54.474-08:00<div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">The Kitchen of Torment Beyond The Sea</span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOPh5eEEn2TEncPQohB2w0-ZlxNKmVJOJTKHPwyRvyQQzQwI6M6nQ81jpoVczOGExGKiq-En_avUm7ZX2OeKEPZ36XBuXUX5Aopxj2mu88RomxfrW5ZjjqGVb5y40nrWf6CcyTShyRmQ1H/s1600-h/misty+ship.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439371475884788098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 273px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOPh5eEEn2TEncPQohB2w0-ZlxNKmVJOJTKHPwyRvyQQzQwI6M6nQ81jpoVczOGExGKiq-En_avUm7ZX2OeKEPZ36XBuXUX5Aopxj2mu88RomxfrW5ZjjqGVb5y40nrWf6CcyTShyRmQ1H/s400/misty+ship.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /> <span style="font-size:130%;"> I am very excited. Rodoslav has just informed me that the time has come to start my new carreer. I have been waiting a very long time for this. Finally, I no longer have to play "Dark Stalker" to support myself!<br /> However, he tried to make a few things clear to me about the nature of my new employers. First and foremost, he said that most people would not describe my job as "Glamorous." Of course, I’m not at all certain what that means, but I’m sure that it’s nothing to be concerned about. Secondly, he said that in the course of my labors, I would be required to go abroad to partake in what he called a "Work/Study" program. What is it that I will be studying? Again, I cannot say. Finally, he told me that there would be risks involved. I think he said something either about "High Casualties" or "Highly expendable" something or another. At any rate, I will be glad to get out of the house more often.<br /> I was very excited that night. In order to get to sleep on time, I drank a substantial amount of Natural Light. I also drank a large amount of modestly priced charcoal filtered vodka to ensure that I would slumber peacefully.<br /> Morning came very suddenly. I was awakened by the sound of my front door being smashed in. I heard what seemed to be the foot steps of at least ten large individuals coming up the stairs. Before I could even blink, an unsightly gang descended upon me. So hard was I thrown against the wall that it was damaged considerably, causing a few chunks to fall to the ground. Whilst I lay, I was kicked repeatedly, and a deafening level of shouting filled the room. Before I could rise again, a large black sack was placed over my head.<br /> After being shoved down the stairs, one of the men helped me back to my feet. I was then led forcefully out the door, and then led into what seemed to be a large vehicle.<br /> Though I was deprived of my vision, I could make out a few distinct sounds. There was a good amount of screaming, but mostly soft continual sobs filled the air. Also, I could make out one of the large men yelling the word "Slave" over and over again.<br /> It was a very unique beginning for my new life. I’m not quite sure what to make of it. I’ve heard of the Shogun of the Dark talk about how there is a certain protocol for treating new recruits to social organizations. I think he called it "hazing." I suppose I was being hazed for the first time. I am very glad that I was able to have this experience to better familiarize myself with everyday customs in this country.<br /> <br /> </span>Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-46414284498294121362010-02-17T11:19:00.000-08:002010-02-18T16:52:15.290-08:00<span style="font-size:180%;">Slingin Insults with The Shogun of The Dark</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7VpVpWT387sjmeCaQeKLZVQkh-_xmN0h78eehRnGc6VwccSXBRXTDoZN_VLmnA7Yhm7I-pqWIZbeFJNovhIIXBDCpd207yU-f0QcxUkJbelMIAMHkjqX_Och5b3vKa16XwzH2pT0wkSxj/s1600-h/Ninja+Punch.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439295157551738850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 344px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 277px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7VpVpWT387sjmeCaQeKLZVQkh-_xmN0h78eehRnGc6VwccSXBRXTDoZN_VLmnA7Yhm7I-pqWIZbeFJNovhIIXBDCpd207yU-f0QcxUkJbelMIAMHkjqX_Och5b3vKa16XwzH2pT0wkSxj/s400/Ninja+Punch.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p></p><p> </p><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I couldnt find any constructive activity to occupy myself with today, so the only thing I could think of doing was to go find the Shogun of the Dark. He told me that it would serve me well to have further training in the art of verbal combat. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Last time I tried this, We seemed to have a pretty good back in forth banter. However, I can't help but doubt that this is how ordinary humans argue.</span><br /><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto the Shogun, "You are about as worthless as a quartz-movement potassium biscuit tin!"</span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">The Shogun replied, "I find you as offensive as I find a modestly-ionized Norwegian badger!"</span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto him, "I will disrespect you in the same way that I disrespect a weakly-magnetized Mongolian fridge magnet!"</span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He relied, "But you must also realize that I will disrespect you as I disrespect a curiously-manufactured copper rocking chair!"</span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto him, " I find you as idiotic as I find an eight-sided Jurassic sparkler!"</span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He replied, "Your value as a human being is less than that of a quick-drying medieval avocado!"</span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto him, "I will destroy you as easy as I destroy a partially-inflated Siberian armadillo!"</span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He replied, "But you must realize that I will smash you in the same way that I smash an absolutely foul neolithic violin!"</span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto him, "I find you as foolish as I find a non-existant morrocan handbrake!"</span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He replied, "I will destroy you as completely as I destroy a painstakingly-disintergrated lithium toad!"</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto him, "Your vastly inflated sense of self is greater than that of a lead-plated overpriced wishing well!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He replied, "Your attempts to thwart me are as confused as a multi-faceted Algerian manhole cover!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto him, "I find your attempts to derail me as pathetic as I find a steam-driven Lithuanian Crow."</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He replied, "Of course, it is unfortunate that you are unable to forsee your inevitable demise, which is more assured than the destruction of an oily Victorian egg-cup."</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto him, "You are really starting to become an irritating little cast-iron volt meter!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He replied, "Is that supposed to mean something to me? You live on the most precarious of ledges, one that is more fragile than an abstract Mongolian gate!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto him, "Thats the stupidest thing Ive ever heard. Why don't you go back to your land of make believe, with your violently interwoven Czechoslovakian taxis and such!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He replied, "Yeah, says the guy who is not worthy to have even the grimiest of Cambodien wardrobes!"</p></span><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p>Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-89801603060976306832010-02-17T03:04:00.000-08:002010-02-17T03:46:32.469-08:00<div align="center"> </div> <br /> <span style="font-size:180%;">The Age of Hobo </span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"> Part <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Deux</span>:</span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"> Phase II (The Quickening)</span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"></span><br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbsQrfi_L1pO4g4VWa6735t6Mr3_ZzIh5bwNOdQP1dgQ9i7x_-48CN4bEbpRB8hqGAxgqNXsrOGJtdMtA66Q8KM-t-1DwnXQRWYlXqEEqxC7l-zobgmWEz87UfiLOVG1T-XS8Wd3iJUO3c/s1600-h/hobos.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439167086570286946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 272px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 312px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbsQrfi_L1pO4g4VWa6735t6Mr3_ZzIh5bwNOdQP1dgQ9i7x_-48CN4bEbpRB8hqGAxgqNXsrOGJtdMtA66Q8KM-t-1DwnXQRWYlXqEEqxC7l-zobgmWEz87UfiLOVG1T-XS8Wd3iJUO3c/s400/hobos.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /> One of the the things I was trying to shed light on earlier was my insatiable desire to destroy all of civilization. Why? I will tell you why. Mankind, on its most basic level, is nothing more than a shell of its former greatness. As our systems of social equilibrium become stronger, the natural forces of nature are no longer able to affect the population in to any significant degree. As the timeline progresses, inferior genetic traits will actually be proliferated. Ultimately, we will be adrift in a seemingly endless sea of morons of the highest magnitude.<br /> The only saving grace to this scenario is that the few intellectual elite that remain will find themselves in a position of unimaginable power. I intend to see to it that I will be among these elites. However, I will take advantage of their trust. However, the unwashed masses are not the only ones who I shall bring ruin upon. I shall rain terror down upon the elites who enabled civilization to become so "handicapped" as well.<br /> I will include a few more points here in my ongoing manifesto:<br /><br /><br /> -The Population wants some form of financial assistance for low income families. You will promise to provide it to them. You will make a national <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">television</span> and radio broadcasts announcing that you will provide low-interest loans. In a very short time, the masses will gather at the regional government offices. When the buildings and streets are saturated at what seems to be <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">maximum</span> capacity, you will turn on all Public alert loudspeakers and broadcast them throughout the cities. Your announcement shall be that any and all loan applications shall be rejected, and that you are discontinuing all forms of social <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">well fare</span> for the present and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">foreseeable</span> future. Riots will ensue. You will take advantage of the chaos.<br /><br /><br /> -The Population wants some form of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">guarantee</span> that the federal government will protect them in times of national crisis. You shall open up all previously restricted flood zones for resettlement. You will create an abundance of low rent housing in these zones, and you shall also provide comprehensive flood insurance for all other <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">questionable</span> zones. When the flood inevitably strikes, the people will turn to your government for assistance. You will do nothing. You will claim that no assistance shall be provided due budget shortfalls, and that no government action will be possible because of the inability of the legislature to agree upon government spending projections. You will maintain this <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">position</span> for the duration of the crisis. You will anticipate the soon to come public outcry. You will blame it on the legislature. You will do this to further your own dark agenda.<br /><br /><br /> -The Population demands some form of social Justice. You will give it to them. Your first act shall be to raise the tax rate on all social classes to 98% You will continue this financial blood-letting for quite some time. Whenever your government has accumulated enough wealth, you will begin construction of a public works project of unforeseen proportions. You will build a structure from stone, iron, wood, and any other crucial building resource that you can think of. It shall have a base of ten thousand feet by ten thousand feet, and it shall be ten thousand feet high. Upon this massive monument, you shall inscribe the names of every man, woman and child on the planet in very large font. For every name, there shall be a caption that says, "so and so was special because he/she was smart and nice" There will be an inevitable public outcry. When the public demand as to why you have wasted not only all tax payer dollars, but all resources, you shall have a rebuttal. It shall be, "Well, you asked for it."<br /><br /> There are just a few points of my ongoing manifesto. Please let me know of any other good ideas.<br /><div align="center"></div>Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-22520871058205079512010-02-16T10:53:00.001-08:002010-02-16T11:59:37.315-08:00My attempt to educate myself about culture through Film Viewings<div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">My First Attempt to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Acquire</span> Cultural Knowledge Through Film Viewings</span></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Rodoslav</span> informed me the other day that I am to ever have any hope of functioning in a normal working environment, then It is essential that I gain some kind of knowledge about American culture.</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"> He said that this can be best achieved by watching what he called "films." I was confused at first, but it became more clear to me as to what they were when he brought out what he called his "television"</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"> I was very frightened at first, but I soon realized that I had seen many of these devices before. I had encountered many of them in my endless wanderings through the center for the downtrodden masses, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Wal</span>-Mart. I had never paid much attention to them though. I always considered them to be devices for nothing more than distracting the store patrons from their horrid surroundings.</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Rodoslov</span> told me to remain in the domicile while he would go to purchase films for viewing at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Wal</span>-Mart. In a short time, he returned with a collection of films. </span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">As usual, I sat upon my pile of newspaper and straw, consuming much Natural Light. It was going to be more entertaining this time, however, as I made partake in glorious film viewings.</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZWbhIQqUgprMYZdamz_FO879axuxJ72cKzpft5xHj_Zw0p6mGKp6A0wPqO3soPfHm1DKRPkQSj1V1orD76Ue90fdwEueDpweUG-gAlo-lHtpbVJfUFVl_vkChcFIVLCqm0Tq_GANIIn4N/s1600-h/Clockwork+orange+milk.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438917241731968962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 271px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 227px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZWbhIQqUgprMYZdamz_FO879axuxJ72cKzpft5xHj_Zw0p6mGKp6A0wPqO3soPfHm1DKRPkQSj1V1orD76Ue90fdwEueDpweUG-gAlo-lHtpbVJfUFVl_vkChcFIVLCqm0Tq_GANIIn4N/s400/Clockwork+orange+milk.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /> Film 1: Clockwork Orange<br /><br /> I enjoyed this film immensely. The plot revolves around a young man in a land far away. His greatest joy in life is ignoring all social customs of every sort. One of the particular activities that he engages in is drinking amphetamine laced milk, and then playing a game called "Hogs of the Road" I not sure what amphetamines are. I suppose I will have to ask <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Rodoslav</span>. My best understanding is that it is a powerful form of milk that provides anyone who drinks it with great courage.<br /> As for the game "Hogs of the Road", it seems to be the most fun activity that a human being could ever do. The purpose of the game is to drive in the lane designated for on-coming traffic at the highest speed that your vehicle is capable of attaining. It seems very dangerous, but do not worry. Those cars that you are bearing down on will ultimately make an attempt to avoid you. Why <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">wouldn't</span> they though? After all, you have drunk the milk of power, and they most probably have not. Despite the fact that on some occasions the other vehicles attempt to evade you will result in death, most of their evasion attempts are quite humorous.<br /> Great film. If you have the means, I highly recommend attaining it for yourself.<br /> <br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0IxkAp0aKu_2uuMutORN3ye1IjvP2_UbzqZom59B_MeXxayR69oY3uZKbdYIWOGBITTOl1G-SJVzbuDV7ZF_WyKslhDVyQ4iuJinl79CUNGom2sxdcOARcNgX0X1xXKZewkQtrX-iC0Rc/s1600-h/Friday+movie.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438917244598669026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 298px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0IxkAp0aKu_2uuMutORN3ye1IjvP2_UbzqZom59B_MeXxayR69oY3uZKbdYIWOGBITTOl1G-SJVzbuDV7ZF_WyKslhDVyQ4iuJinl79CUNGom2sxdcOARcNgX0X1xXKZewkQtrX-iC0Rc/s400/Friday+movie.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /> Film 2: Friday<br /><br /> I found this movie rather strange, but I did get a good amount of enjoyment from it. The plot revolves around two young men that live in what is referred to as the "Ghetto" <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">I'm</span> not exactly sure what is the meaning of this "Ghetto," but I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">don't</span> see what all the fuss is about. Their neighborhood, in my estimation, seems to be rather affluent. (at least compared to my home)<br /> Early in the movie, one of the young men makes a declaration to the other man. "I know you <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">don't</span> smoke weed, I know this; but <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">I'm</span> going to get you high today, 'cause its Friday; you <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">ain't</span> got no job... and you <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">ain't</span> got shit to do"<br /> Now, again, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">I'm</span> not exactly sure what this "Weed" is, are what its effects are. I believe that it is an undesirable plant that grows out of sidewalks, but when harvested and treated, it has can be smoked. The smoking of weed produces a different number of effects. It does not seem to be that different than drinking a fair amount of Natty Lite. I need to get a hold of some "weed" for myself. It should not be that difficult to find. Maybe I will have success If I ask around the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Wal</span>-Mart.<br /><br /><br /><div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimhnzbE1aLqu7qYrg6QX5s-sgVC4vlX1OEIID6trz0aMbm58Ei7O3k6hr7KR1aVhgEAFYqgD8j0vlBHXFMMfgIQTUjUF0w_312hor7lNGYIq1sBfiVAY8VQ4r0BJBg9kF-R_jHntPR81T2/s1600-h/Saw+movie.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438917237990243010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 272px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 232px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimhnzbE1aLqu7qYrg6QX5s-sgVC4vlX1OEIID6trz0aMbm58Ei7O3k6hr7KR1aVhgEAFYqgD8j0vlBHXFMMfgIQTUjUF0w_312hor7lNGYIq1sBfiVAY8VQ4r0BJBg9kF-R_jHntPR81T2/s400/Saw+movie.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> Film 3: Saw</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Rodoslav</span> had told me that this is one of the most popular horror films in America. However, I just <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">don't</span> get what all the uproar is about. This movie is centered around the plight of a kidnapped man. He is chained to a wall in an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">undetermined</span> location. He eventually concludes that he must saw his own leg off if he is ever to escape, of see his family again.</div><div align="left"> Let me remind you here that I have spent quite a bit of time in similar circumstances. It seems that the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">whimperings</span> of the man in the movie are "laughable" at best. In fact, I would go so far as to describe him as a "Whiny Little Pussy"</div><div align="left"> First of all, The man in the film was confined in an illuminated room. As for myself, I had no understanding of the concept of light, or sight, until recently. At least he had objects to look at for stimulation. I had nothing to distract me from the endless horrifying images that were produced by my own mind. </div><div align="left"> Secondly, The man in the film did in fact had the option to free himself with a saw. Why <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">didn't</span> anyone ever bother to give me a saw? seems like luxury if you ask me.</div><div align="left"> Furthermore, even if I did have a saw, It <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">wouldn't</span> do me <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">any good</span>. My body is impervious to most forms of physical damage. The only ones who ever knew how to harm me were my captors. They were quite good at it, I can tell you. One of their favorite methods of torture was too slowly open my chest cavity with precision tools. After that, they would put on gloves and rip out various organs. Heck, sometimes they would remove entire organ systems. Of course, I would always regenerate. Sometimes they would repeat this procedure on a daily basis.</div><div align="left"> I just <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">don't</span> see why anyone would even bother to watch that <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">piece</span> of shit movie to begin with. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">Isn't</span> that something that happens to just about everybody?<br /><br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoTi9IKH5HCXYxPObbSVlUjRzPqrQMlPqDTC_QEOv7rNR_kUpg7EkPqze7Kh7OJ5x4UyNw1AFfrIGQLcacpmlfvQ2IjjnxzGxHLF4_6OnC1k4nZpTSuMYh7AKbYipeyxrbX5NEuvO3hShT/s1600-h/Home+alone.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438917234661215634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 241px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 202px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoTi9IKH5HCXYxPObbSVlUjRzPqrQMlPqDTC_QEOv7rNR_kUpg7EkPqze7Kh7OJ5x4UyNw1AFfrIGQLcacpmlfvQ2IjjnxzGxHLF4_6OnC1k4nZpTSuMYh7AKbYipeyxrbX5NEuvO3hShT/s400/Home+alone.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> Film 4: Home alone</div><div> </div><div> I had mixed feelings about this one. I did enjoy how the family of the child purposefully abandoned him to teach him a lesson. Seems to be rather effective if you ask me.</div><div> I did not like the part about how the child attempted to thwart the intruders. If he was so intelligent, then why was he not able to rig more effective traps? Not a single one of his devices caused a fatality. Now that I think about it, I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">don't</span> think there was any spilling of blood at all.</div><div> Come on! <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">I'm</span> sure his family had acquired a good number of weapons over time. After all, they seemed to be a wealthy enough family unit. The child would not have even had to use the weapons himself. All he had to do was rig a booby trap using the front door and the twelve gauge shotgun. With just a few simple strings and pulleys, the trap would have caused the shotgun to unleash a deadly wall of lead upon anyone who opened the front door. After all, why <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">wouldn't</span> they? You would leave the door unlocked. The trap <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">wouldn't</span> work if you <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">didn't</span>.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> I will try to keep everyone informed as to the nature of my culture <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">learnings</span> through film viewings. Does anybody have any suggestions? Please let me know. <br /><br /><br /></div><div></div></div>Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-61906129714738743812010-02-15T12:51:00.000-08:002010-02-15T13:41:28.991-08:00<span style="font-size:180%;"> I Thoroughly Despise That Woman</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoMVCapXTWiPQfm1wD2vmIJ_ysKQq09xifon9fUWlf5dUaH_LTP_A2Vm6wY_9N_Q_5uXzX07eAOQeOe894qiw77SyggDa5alV_BFKd_lndT2_JTKZWGDqDyRTBVKrZFVuSNUlVi_cYqupy/s1600-h/dirty+wizard.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438576619822206738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 305px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoMVCapXTWiPQfm1wD2vmIJ_ysKQq09xifon9fUWlf5dUaH_LTP_A2Vm6wY_9N_Q_5uXzX07eAOQeOe894qiw77SyggDa5alV_BFKd_lndT2_JTKZWGDqDyRTBVKrZFVuSNUlVi_cYqupy/s400/dirty+wizard.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">As is customary these days, I awoke lying upon my pile of straw and newspaper. I had slept later than I would have liked, mainly due to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">over consumption</span> of "Natty" You see, I have been drinking quite a bit since that incident the other night. Normally, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Im</span> not the type to be fearful of strange <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">occurrences</span>. After all, I did spend the vast majority of my life chained to the floor of a deep underground lair. It was not until just a few weeks ago that I had ever seen that which is called the "Sun."</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"> When I approached the front door of my house, I noticed that a small <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">piece</span> of paper had been slipped under my door. What could it be? Perhaps it was a notice from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Rodoslav's</span> superiors that he must hasten his production of biological weapons. If that was true, then It would be my duty to notify him immediately. </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"> Upon opening the letter, it turned out to be something other than I had expected. To my misfortune, I had the entire letter before I figured out what was happening. I was far too hung over to notice the name that was written upon it.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"> Gunner Quake and Fauna Jericho's Magical Quest to Uncover The Mysterious Power Of The Totem <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Florafinder</span> Stones From The Long Forgotten Kingdom of the Dying Laboring Fool's Mask</span></div><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"></span><br />By Libby Agnes Deloris III</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="left"> Gunner Quake looked upon the expansive fields of the Country of the Eight Great Palms. Where had Fauna Jericho gone? Surely, he had survived his adventures in the Empire of the Long <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Dutchess</span>. </div><div align="left"> Gunner Quake drew his sword for no good reason at all. The Sword had a serrated blade with a white hue to it, with ships engraved on it. It had a knot shaped <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">guard</span>, and Its grip was formed like a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">medusa</span>. What a fine sword it was! After all, It was none other than the weapon that had slain the great dark elf <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Iczul</span> and his <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">treachorous</span> brother <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Rokizran</span>. It had also been a tool of undoing for many lesser dark elves, such as <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Acekitad</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Atoridid</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Bakuh</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Kadivaduh</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Neryh</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Redar</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Riron</span>, and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Xorra</span>.</div><div align="left"> Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, pretty much the same thing was going down. Fauna Jericho was walking to the tavern in the County of the Sixty Sad Lions. It was only fifty miles north of the Forked Earldom of the Moose as the crow flies. Though he was nowhere near the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Kingdom</span> of the Holy Lonesome Skull, he could not help by pine for its beauty. </div><div align="left"> Now, dear reader, it is extremely important for you to know here that Fauna Jericho had <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">attained</span> level 20 in the art of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Paradoxical</span> Future Sorcery. The Academy where he had studied was only five miles away from the High-Energy Abjuration school. It is important that you do not confuse either of these with the institute of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Alchemical</span> Writings...... </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> I have never read such dribble in my life. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">Im</span> not even exactly sure why, but I felt compelled to harm myself. I had turned on the electric burners in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Rodoslav's</span> kitchen. When they had reached their maximum temperature, I was going to mash my face down against them. The only thing that saved me from this assured destruction was the realization that I still had roughly four canisters of Natty Light sixteen <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">ouncers</span>. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> <br /> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></div>Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-11188268249926791642010-02-14T23:06:00.000-08:002010-02-15T08:21:40.305-08:00<span style="font-size:180%;">I'm Starting To Feel a Little Better About Life </span><br /><br /><br /><div align="left"></div><p><span style="font-size:130%;">Yesterday, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Rodoslav</span> gave to me another series of the comic strip concerning the one they call "Garfield" I simply cannot get enough of this stuff. The one they call "Jon", the owner of the now deceased feline Garfield, continues to suffer from not only deep rooted mental illness, but personality disorders as well.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">It continues to become more and more entertaining as time progresses:</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih83lTviVaZwx03QaXAI17LEjvlKS_yjQNkTaVm01tg3GKn-FLD5HOImpnDg_5qD7J-NFIYwbQLrGhwKXYN95uODYIUt_XwOpMT5YATVd0972ZcMdOedW6zjaZu60ahM8bamWBSNTVz1pg/s1600-h/John+hide+and+seek.png"><span style="font-size:180%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438365719822043234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 118px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih83lTviVaZwx03QaXAI17LEjvlKS_yjQNkTaVm01tg3GKn-FLD5HOImpnDg_5qD7J-NFIYwbQLrGhwKXYN95uODYIUt_XwOpMT5YATVd0972ZcMdOedW6zjaZu60ahM8bamWBSNTVz1pg/s400/John+hide+and+seek.png" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-size:180%;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;"></span><span style="font-size:130%;">In this strip, Jon is attempting to play a game that those living in the world of the light refer to as "hide and seek." Apparently, the object of the game is to allow your victim to give himself/herself a chance to hide before you begin your attack. After counting to a previously agreed upon number, the assailant will come and seek out the victim. If the victim escapes, he or she is free to go about life unhindered. If the victim is caught, then that person will be subject to unimaginable torture.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">However, It seems that Jon is playing this game with himself. As to whether or not his victim is imaginary, I do not know. Perhaps Jon is actually attempting to inflict great pain upon himself. It becomes evident in the third square that he is not prepared to accept the consequences of his actions.</span></p><p></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9jbj7289bxuGx5SeYGia6DYrjDMKmSCVS9pAsfyxGnewgSAioQ2hvXAMcPndRrYWkfsAtaisn2UnTc9O7AbKX7z4tKV2ODq89M9wocTC9ZVuuD-BZMZE3kPzfKsKCrsQhhSSjuV_qbUh1/s1600-h/John+Psychiatrist.png"><span style="font-size:180%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438365714813983602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 118px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9jbj7289bxuGx5SeYGia6DYrjDMKmSCVS9pAsfyxGnewgSAioQ2hvXAMcPndRrYWkfsAtaisn2UnTc9O7AbKX7z4tKV2ODq89M9wocTC9ZVuuD-BZMZE3kPzfKsKCrsQhhSSjuV_qbUh1/s400/John+Psychiatrist.png" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">In this scene, Jon seems to be having another "moment of clarity" He seems to be well aware of his disturbed state of mind. In the first two frames, you can see him trying to determine something. Maybe he is battling with the demons of self doubt. It seems that he is victorious in the end.<br /><br /></span></p><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnZ9JkiJrJEdTG_OAUtnacM51m-yvvbuIzeVVozIlPdczyCuMgzWA4oti-OIZT4AQ-ttUWUomt6JQaYoGBX9oWc8NFjgTAds9kYW3TicF76PSoLzQ_rjSAYqkOvhRx6TfSpLhrKxL1idD5/s1600-h/John+Think.png"><span style="font-size:180%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438365702946561874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 117px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnZ9JkiJrJEdTG_OAUtnacM51m-yvvbuIzeVVozIlPdczyCuMgzWA4oti-OIZT4AQ-ttUWUomt6JQaYoGBX9oWc8NFjgTAds9kYW3TicF76PSoLzQ_rjSAYqkOvhRx6TfSpLhrKxL1idD5/s400/John+Think.png" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">Yet again, Jon finds himself in a moment of deep reflection. What is it that he is thinking of? We cannot be sure. At this point, we are not even certain that Jon has <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">received</span> the psychiatric help which he thought that he may need. I doubt that he has had any such counseling. It seems that here that he is on the verge of what I can only describe as a "crossroad of life."<br /><br /></span><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4uCDRb-uKLN96Wq2bRBAp2EQEVBKEFODjuGM3qO1EDViPcnb-a60stP-3lrkv1sFV6i9rRgkzKwDa3YXPTFRQnvSqPRKf-EXhvW40lFprU-FYSbLkwxtTlXfGrGFt7woA_fDA0J9O9gUb/s1600-h/John+no+sleep.png"><span style="font-size:180%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438365702070211778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 117px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4uCDRb-uKLN96Wq2bRBAp2EQEVBKEFODjuGM3qO1EDViPcnb-a60stP-3lrkv1sFV6i9rRgkzKwDa3YXPTFRQnvSqPRKf-EXhvW40lFprU-FYSbLkwxtTlXfGrGFt7woA_fDA0J9O9gUb/s400/John+no+sleep.png" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;">For this scene, Jon seems to be battling with bouts of insomnia. what demented thoughts is he having in his countless sleepless nights? Once again, we can only <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">speculate</span>. However, I assure you that he is a very conflicted individual. I would go so far as to say that he is, in fact, the essence of self conflict.<br /><br /><br /></span><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib0SYrDmwpBt_fGMdphGDdVHlARhKRQNidvgbir2QfarPmILK5DksTU9Yvv3V81zqEnNk-VWooxgzzoHPri2MAvwF47XDRPpckelHPcx7ViNfqYyar6Mt2TwxdK6iTRnGrarDkWL5vl3VJ/s1600-h/John+ascension.png"><span style="font-size:180%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438365695514313378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 116px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib0SYrDmwpBt_fGMdphGDdVHlARhKRQNidvgbir2QfarPmILK5DksTU9Yvv3V81zqEnNk-VWooxgzzoHPri2MAvwF47XDRPpckelHPcx7ViNfqYyar6Mt2TwxdK6iTRnGrarDkWL5vl3VJ/s400/John+ascension.png" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Perhaps this is the most dubious of all the Garfield strips so far. In the first panel, Jon seems to be walking about his kitchen. To my surprise, he has what seems to be some sort of sense of self-confidence. What great transformation has <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">occurred</span> here?</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">In the second panel, He is somehow whisked into the air. What mysterious power has allowed him to do this? Surely, this is something that is far beyond the reach of his ordinary capabilities. Perhaps he has been granted powers from a higher being. Which being? I cannot say. We will never know if the entity that bestowed upon him the powers of the supernatural is one of light, or one of darkness.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">I would like to think here that he has sold his soul to a mid-level demon. He <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">doesn't</span> seem to get out of the house much. Whatever it was, it came upon him, for no other reason than to prey on his weakness.<br /><br /><br /></span><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmOo6CmJ1ZYAjSa9v7nzqI1MrA6BgqYnkynJsFOuL_KlXTuuFeEtAzPLB6zCYpVp8XCYmSEP8df4GjGmyU9a9l-yJTuMfTDLRfWVVEg0MzMPVdIftDJcTnpk3LLGR-sgCk5sysSOIxhyJ/s1600-h/John+ascension.png"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div>Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-46967544201523688762010-02-14T14:05:00.001-08:002010-02-14T14:10:18.736-08:00<span style="font-size:180%;">The Age of Hobo</span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"> Part <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Deux</span></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL94XP-xoAzIA-zRtzqguFNhT2j6_4_XV8629BikYs2Gxfp9nkpLJ5UI2RZKRYtFtBPzY3j3yKj7RhzctiyJ-huyIXQB50LYfkyJR6BZFBVhOoqxEk0y1AogTjw3SqVk1WZcAqyNnULTDF/s1600-h/Obese+Nerd.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438224022353293954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL94XP-xoAzIA-zRtzqguFNhT2j6_4_XV8629BikYs2Gxfp9nkpLJ5UI2RZKRYtFtBPzY3j3yKj7RhzctiyJ-huyIXQB50LYfkyJR6BZFBVhOoqxEk0y1AogTjw3SqVk1WZcAqyNnULTDF/s400/Obese+Nerd.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p align="left"> Once again, I could help but mull over the wretched state of mankind. After witnessing one peculiar event, a very powerful hatred began to form inside of me. <br /> The location of the event was the enormous complex which the people of this area refer to as “<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Wal</span>-Mart.” As you might have already imagined, I did not go there to purchase any sort of good or service. I was merely there as a passive observer. Over time, I had accumulated what seemed to be a countless number of hours wandering its expansive Isles. Oddly, no one seemed to pay any mind to me. It is quite baffling when considering my bizarre eccentricities.<br /> On the particular day of the incident in question, I had lurched into the area where the large flickering plastic devices are kept. Normally I would have continued my endless wandering through the complex, but an extremely obese adolescent male caught my eye. He was engaged in debate with what appeared to be his female parental unit. He was making a passionate appeal to her reason. The only thing that I was able to make out at the time was “World of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Warcraft</span>.” There was also something mentioned about an “Upgrade.”<br /> Later in the week I asked of the Shogun of the Dark what is the meaning of “World of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Warcraft</span>?” At this point, I could tell that he was about to begin one of his severely long stories. I really wish I had gotten myself a snack beforehand.<br /> “Long ago before the dawn of time as you understand it to be, There was a information network established in this world. Though its original intended use was that of a electronic bulletin board system in which the highly educated could share their research, It had come to be something very different indeed. Over a period of time, gradual increases in technology were made, allowing the grid to function more efficiently. By the time you had escaped from your dark subterranean prison, the Internet had become much more “user-friendly” To be frank, it had evolved to the point where even the stupidest of humans could “log on.”<br /> “Once the number of these idiots had reached critical mass, the content on the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Internet</span> became overrun by content that was severely absurd in nature. No longer was it a tool for research. In fact, it had become an evil entity, feeding off the life force of those without the mental capabilities to recognize it for what it was.”<br /> However, another thing you must realize is that those on the other end of the spectrum were not blind as to the nature of the recent developments. Though they were aware of what the grid had become, they chose to continue to writhe in its wretched, God-forsaken sea of depravity. You see, it became well known among the well informed that a select few elite would become masters of the new electronic realm. Their power would be virtually unlimited!”<br /><br /> At this point, I had to stop the Shogun. I simply could not stand to here another word without obtaining for myself at least a modest snack.<br /> When I hear the rest of the story, I will report to you my findings.<br /> <br /> <br /></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"></div>Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-89528562212572494042010-02-13T08:36:00.000-08:002010-02-13T09:37:38.343-08:00<span style="font-size:180%;">The Shogun of The Dark and The Art of Verbal Warfare</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj705KaIcVfEBlEfkTqJeu3FQ4oEFr8WmC3cNR3W0SGkFGA3Ogt_DJxuPTxqN-OtHzTpFN-xT7WaJgnWjsYBadDm_cA3zTLlRbNOAkYDG4F1Jfwqyb1qzIwSO2eRQsgNO5f5S1W1oZ7C4Kn/s1600-h/SamuraiYoshitoshiLOC.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437768892313964594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 344px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj705KaIcVfEBlEfkTqJeu3FQ4oEFr8WmC3cNR3W0SGkFGA3Ogt_DJxuPTxqN-OtHzTpFN-xT7WaJgnWjsYBadDm_cA3zTLlRbNOAkYDG4F1Jfwqyb1qzIwSO2eRQsgNO5f5S1W1oZ7C4Kn/s400/SamuraiYoshitoshiLOC.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">One thing the Shogun of the Dark has tried to teach me as of late is that modern humans rarely engage in battles of sword. The most often way that they engage each other is in battles of rhetoric.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">However, I have very little understanding of this. In an attempt to better myself, I asked the Shogun if I may attempt to spout insults at him, after which, he may respond in kind. He agreed. I do not believe I did very well, seeing how I have very little previous knowledge of everyday language and customs.</span><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto the Shogun, "You are nothing more than a musty old Nigerian Sword!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He replied: "And you are nothing more than a diesel powered-cosmic cheese trolley!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I Said unto him, "You are like an awfully-weak ceramic egg!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He replied: "You soul is like a fiendishly designed Austrian rabbit-hutch!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto him, "I would describe you at best as an excruciatingly-gnarled mahogony lampost!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He replied, "Though you must realize, You are nothing more than a tubular cardboard pariscope."</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto him, " You are as insignificant as a neglected underwater Mongolian seismometer!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He replied, "I could not describe any of your attributes as being superior to a cleverly-dehumidified Venezuelan Hamster!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto him, "You are a termite infested Albanian Peg-leg!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He replied, "You are but a self-opening Elizabethan-era horse!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto him, "You are an excessively sticky Babylonian chair!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He replied, " But you must realize that you are an illegally reinforced mylar lawnmower!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto him, " I will disrespect you in the same way that I would disrespect a miniature cast-iron snail"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He replied, "Your severly moronic tendancies are as baffling as a seven-dimensional persian rug!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto him, " I see you as nothing more than an upsettingly-demolished plastic tape-recorder"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He replied, "You have become quite an irritating little interplanetary crisp-packet!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto him, "You are a maggot ridden potassium woodlouse!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He replied: "Youre an awfully-decayed Italian whiteboard marker!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto him, "The strength of your character is as questionable as a muddy mexican rope-bridge"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He replied: "The quality of your soul is less than that off an unexpectedly-dirty Tasmanian ocarina!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto him, "You are a substantially-battered Egyptian fiber-optic cable!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He replied: "You are a grotesque papyrus clutch pencil!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto him, "You are a digitally-enhanced Victorian reptile!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He replied, "I dismiss your insults in the same way that I dismiss the breeze from a remarkably-pleasant Hungarian fan!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto him, "Your idiocy is greater than that of a top-heavy carbon-fiber alligator!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He replied, "I will disregard you in the same way that I disregard a semi-circular neolithic trowel!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I said unto him, "You are as worthless as a mass produced flemish telegraph pole!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">He replied, "You are as worthless as a 1970's carelessly smashed up typewriter!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">This went on for quite some time. I dont think I am learning very much at all.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><span style="font-size:180%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"></span>Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-15908903942192509862010-02-13T06:59:00.000-08:002010-02-13T08:21:20.882-08:00<div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">Too Much Weird Shit Has Been Happening Lately</span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> The other night, I decided it would beneficial if I got to bed early. After eating my normal evening meal of raw codfish and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">miso</span> soup, I went and made myself comfortable on my pile of straw and newspapers in the corner of my domicile.</div><div align="left"> Sleep came upon me rather quickly, as I made it a point to consume a double ration of the beverage that is described as none other than "Natty Light." </div><div align="left">However, the slumber was interrupted.</div><div align="left">I came to a state of wakeful awareness in an unusual manner. When I opened my eyes I was standing in the middle of my room. It was very quiet in the house. When I looked upon the wall clock, the time read 3:15 am. Around this time, I am <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">accustomed</span> to hearing the sound of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Rodoslav's</span> ghastly night terrors. He is always screaming something. The one that I can most often make out it is... "The Parasites! They are eating my Flesh! Deliver me from this evil in the name of Christ!"</div><div align="left"> Standing in my room, an odd sensation came over me. I do not think that I can described in any meaningful way. The best way that I can put it is that I felt "compelled" to go downstairs. Somehow, I know that an event of great significance was about to unfold.</div><div align="left"> Slowly, but surely, I made my way down the stairs. As I progressed, I noticed that I had in a way left my own body. It was if I was following myself by a distance of a few feet. I could do nothing but watch it unfold in the same way that one would watch a movie.</div><div align="left"> When I got to the living room, I stopped moving. It was at this point when I returned to my body. I was not sure what exactly what was about to happen, but I knew it was going to happen very soon.</div><div align="left"> The next thing that I observed was that the light in the room began to change. The standard <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">incandescent</span> light that I was accustomed to had begun to shift into an overpowering red glow. Everything was now bathed in a dark shade of red. Then, it seemed as if all the objects in the room were becoming distorted. It seemed that everything had begun to blink in and out of existence. The distortion became stronger and stronger until I could no longer recognize my surroundings.</div><div align="left"> There was a lapse in my consciousness at this point. The next clear memory that I had is one that I will never forget.</div><div align="left"> It seemed that I was transported into what I can only describe as another dimension. Of course, it seemed less that I was transported than that this alternate plane of existence came to me. </div><div align="left"> Now , I was standing In an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">incomprehensible</span> realm that was beyond not only time and space, but beyond the limits of human cognition. It was a very vast place. However, I did not know where to go, or even if any such movement was possible. Amongst the flickering red light and thick clouds of dark gas, I began to make out a figure. I could not tell if it was materializing, growing, or approaching me. In what seemed to be a few minutes, a strange entity presented itself before me. It looked somewhat like a man, but, there was something.... wrong. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_adpKLCVZyeuJRa5CxFca-HzssCtscUUQ8EGqD-cOfMbi4PoQv8CHFYAWxt8OirZ4N25ANRnKSdQW9ZT5Zb0XlYLXQCCsh5mrd3dCeQE1Sp0Zwen7K1qlZ6-jhChz1jf0wqPwCF-Hadx/s1600-h/Mothman2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437747922450960338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 380px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 336px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_adpKLCVZyeuJRa5CxFca-HzssCtscUUQ8EGqD-cOfMbi4PoQv8CHFYAWxt8OirZ4N25ANRnKSdQW9ZT5Zb0XlYLXQCCsh5mrd3dCeQE1Sp0Zwen7K1qlZ6-jhChz1jf0wqPwCF-Hadx/s400/Mothman2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /> The being began to speak. It talked very slowly, and its voice seemed to be projected at me from all angles<br />"Do not be afraid.... My name is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Thmetul</span>.... <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Thmetul</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Nesulehomon</span>..... I am he who is not............."<br />The entity paused for an undetermined amount of time, and then continued to speak.<br /> "Soon.... There shall be a great undoing...... That which you know shall not remain........ Wait for me........ I will see you in time........."<br /> Once again, I had a lapse in consciousness. When I came too, I awoke lying on the living room floor. I was very confused. I questioned the reality of the experience, but yet I could not explain away the multiple second and third degree burns all over my body. Too fucking weird.<br />I do not grasp the meaning of this event, nor I do I have any delusions of being able to do so. I decided that It was best not to dwell on it. The only thing I could do to feel more "Normal" was to consume a triple ration of Natty Light. I sure that will help things out, at least for the time being.Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-88565088341510410332010-02-11T17:16:00.001-08:002010-02-11T19:56:15.055-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisRNY8tKVBbzGUsa2Q7TW92ILFsuOQQKCJkmvzqsoVktU4VipGwzoaWkgHGMGXbqd0veRyBWXfMDrWiI-UrV8EcA1DoQ1NyCE3Q6zTYUN8ctFUOJoC8hLNZ04PpiYHKDjaMbiWBaGbXSUP/s1600-h/working_detail.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 351px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisRNY8tKVBbzGUsa2Q7TW92ILFsuOQQKCJkmvzqsoVktU4VipGwzoaWkgHGMGXbqd0veRyBWXfMDrWiI-UrV8EcA1DoQ1NyCE3Q6zTYUN8ctFUOJoC8hLNZ04PpiYHKDjaMbiWBaGbXSUP/s400/working_detail.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437193091914706642" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /> <span style="font-size:180%;">Time To Find Some Honest Work</span><br /><br /><br /> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Rodoslav</span> suggested to me the other day that I might want to try and find some form of steady employment. So far I have been able to make my rent payments, but the methods that I have been using have been described at best as... "unsound"<br /> My most profitable technique so far is a technique that I like to call "The Dark Stalker." It is very simple in theory, but can be quite challenging in practice. There is quite a bit of planning involved.<br /> First of all, I have to choose my location carefully. It has to be a location where the security parameters are not very high. Also, It cannot have too much human traffic, at least at some point during its hours of operation.<br /> The location that I have chosen is the biology building at the nearby university. There are quite a bit of students coming in and out in the daylight hours, but there are considerably less at night. During these hours of quiet, I make my way to the higher floors and begin laying out the rest of my strategy.<br /> Once I am on the proper floor, I have to find a particular room where research of some sort is being conducted. I find that the medium sized laboratories are best suited for this purpose. At this point, I need to determine the patterns of those going in and out of this room. Most of the time, I will find that the occupancy of the room is limited to just one person. If am able to determine that this person can steadily be found conducting research alone, then I have found my victim.<br /> You are probably very curious as to what I am going to do at this point. You should not be too alarmed, as no one is going to be harmed. (at least in a physical sense) You see, I have an amazing ability that very few humans possess. I have the ability to shape shift into almost any form I choose. The only limitations to my power is that I cannot become far larger or smaller in size than my original body. I could easily become 8 feet tall, but not 80 feet. (yes, very shameful indeed) I use my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">shape shifting</span> ability to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">implement</span> my "Dark Stalker" plan<br /> When my target is the least suspecting, I very stealthily make my way into the room. when I am almost upon my victim, I transform. I almost always do it when there back is turned to them. For the purposes of the dark stalker, I usually assume this form:<br /><br /> <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTifbtq4SnIR5tfa4_ViC4swBzPFtwSuB4hGAGubeh3SDDd0gQzOlqP5Vc6MYiZVwS3l6BTL_wllw3Yprzl96DVaolcw65rQiAi28EGEY4Uh7LqJgZ3Ak0zHDkemC1xDDEVrcbi_I8ZjEl/s1600-h/nasty+ass+face.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 338px; height: 338px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTifbtq4SnIR5tfa4_ViC4swBzPFtwSuB4hGAGubeh3SDDd0gQzOlqP5Vc6MYiZVwS3l6BTL_wllw3Yprzl96DVaolcw65rQiAi28EGEY4Uh7LqJgZ3Ak0zHDkemC1xDDEVrcbi_I8ZjEl/s400/nasty+ass+face.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437193093780869170" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /> Of course, I never feel it necessary to alert them to my presence. When I complete my transformations into some of my more seemingly sinister forms, there is always some kind of indicator that something evil is afoot. Perhaps you can say that an uncanny chill can be felt in the air. However, my victims are usually alerted by the unnatural waves of evil that are pulsating from my core. It is as if they are at once overtaken by waves of dread, or as if a beam of pure malice was being fired into their soul. It is at that point when they feel the need to turn around. They are at once confronted by my horrible visage.<br /> So great is their fear, that they cannot speak. They cannot scream. They cannot move. There is absolutely nothing they can do. At this point, I outstretch my hand to them. I have a difficult time speaking in this form, but I still try to make it clear that I am asking for money. It usually comes out as just one word, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">muuhhhhnnneeeeyy</span>! It is usually very long and raspy, and is accompanied by a bizarre echo. Upon hearing this, they usually do nothing. They simply stand there, frozen, unresponsive. I really need I need to work on my pronunciation. I feel that it will help streamline the whole process.<br /> The next step is to usually pat them down with my hideously deformed hands, trying to feel where they might keep their money. I would not feel too bad for these people. I am always actually quite gentle. After I take what I need, I usually retreat back into the darkness from which I came.<br /> I don't see why <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Rodoslav</span> has to frown on me so. Are my actions truly that deplorable? Most of the time, I do not take the bulk of their money. In fact, I always leave them with enough cash so they can pay the exit toll from the parking lot.<br /> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Rodoslav</span> tells me that he has arranged for me some honest work. He tells me that my future employers will contact me in the next two weeks. I cannot wait! It will be very nice to take the next step towards becoming a part of normal human society.Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-18420255738252438802010-02-11T08:47:00.000-08:002010-02-11T09:40:01.594-08:00<span style="font-size:180%;">The Best Comic Strip in the World</span><br /><br />Though most of the newspaper in my domicile is reserved for my bedding, I do occasionaly get a chance to read some of the material. There was a good collection of articles, though most of them made no sense at all to me. I just dont understand why the inhabitants of this city would try to entertain themselves by reading about the increases in their required financial contribution to the local authorities. Though they did include some articles which expressed grievances towards the government, there were otheres on the very next page that explained as to why the government should be loved. Very perpexling.<br />On the final pages, there were a series of drawings that seemed to be arranged in sets of squares. The Shogun of the Dark tells me that these things are referred to as "Comic Strips." Though I do not grasp the meaning of this "comedy" that he speaks of, I did understand that they were arranged in a strip-like layout.<br />One particular comic strip caught my eye. It was unlike any of the others. It did not engage its readers in the mindless dribble of living in a household of intermediate size, where the male of the house in constantly caving in to the never ending pressure from his revolting wife and parasitic children like the pathetic invalid that he is.<br />The one I speak of is the comic strip called "Garfield." However, I was unable to locate the character they call Garfield. Shogun tells me that long ago there was a culturally significant idol, and that his name was Garfield. He was worshipped by many. However, as the grains of time passed away into the wind, his popularity began to decline.<br />Though the source of power responsible for Garfield tried to maintian his relevance by distributing what seemed to be an endless array of publications, their efforts ultimately failed.<br />As a last ditch effort, the shadow prince decided that he would terminate the life of Garfield.<br />Now, Garfield is dead. All that remains is the owner of the cartoonish cat. However, the death of his feline companion was far too great for him to bear. As a result, he experiences bouts of insanity that even rival my own.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxGX3OLtDLENYFx46xkUUm8g6AZLqTQAt3wnDt7CtmIDg6ExWbCopT5CLW8SbyC-H0SJ8YWLU1dfF7JpOHwxyhT2nEL16DT8C6rvi6yrZoRHWye5eTb_jpcjcMhsYWq-s3KihjB9FPhp9n/s1600-h/Garfield+dance.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437031043267653458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 116px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxGX3OLtDLENYFx46xkUUm8g6AZLqTQAt3wnDt7CtmIDg6ExWbCopT5CLW8SbyC-H0SJ8YWLU1dfF7JpOHwxyhT2nEL16DT8C6rvi6yrZoRHWye5eTb_jpcjcMhsYWq-s3KihjB9FPhp9n/s400/Garfield+dance.png" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />This strip Illustrates one of the more colorful outbursts of Jon's schizophrenia. He seems to be speaking to an imaginary character who he refers to as "Mr. Droopy Face." Perhaps his dancing is an attempt to keep Mr. Droopy Face at Bay, who may be a dangerous character in his own right.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZOjH-0_3aNDDAfboF0qIddbqOBoDtcdXScFlViWvUbNLAJ_MicX1CfgDehjoHkkV0ZbtjHXmvMKJDQ403CgfHCDKhpe0HOJNajzhJQiP5vkut3cF8HZaO_LNuKk39FWFI-GOCvhtVCK_/s1600-h/Jon+bored.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437031038672223106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 118px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZOjH-0_3aNDDAfboF0qIddbqOBoDtcdXScFlViWvUbNLAJ_MicX1CfgDehjoHkkV0ZbtjHXmvMKJDQ403CgfHCDKhpe0HOJNajzhJQiP5vkut3cF8HZaO_LNuKk39FWFI-GOCvhtVCK_/s400/Jon+bored.png" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />This strip dispalys the never ending monotony of Jon's life. It does not seem like he is able to occupy himself in any meaningful sort of way. Furthermore, He does not take any steps to provide for his own entertainment. There is a substantial decrease in moral from the second frame to the third.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5EorhhFZRFRV3jpATah3HLHJQ1uez7h5ClSFOiOk7VSEsZ7MzbsUdRALHc9nveiTf9z7mL1zLBJWbqspELbRYYt755d6m5bxT-WbSyhvjJAuAHzMV8pqP3Hdhr0bfX9Sff6VD51BQfXAB/s1600-h/Garfield+eat.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437031029306585762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 118px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5EorhhFZRFRV3jpATah3HLHJQ1uez7h5ClSFOiOk7VSEsZ7MzbsUdRALHc9nveiTf9z7mL1zLBJWbqspELbRYYt755d6m5bxT-WbSyhvjJAuAHzMV8pqP3Hdhr0bfX9Sff6VD51BQfXAB/s400/Garfield+eat.png" border="0" /></a> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>In this scene, Jon's depression has increased in severity. As you can see, he cannot even bring himself to eat the plate of french fries that he has just prepared for himself.</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFx_NSB2gm-xCW_22Jl4oF-2dL9SJstwYROmZqaZt9Oz4VimIgxpcRkePJ6ASy_36V3kxatvX_B4z1YUpze_jSiKJMz8aH1OQvjtzM-ccU1mVhIc0w9df2bB4jMeYt_YoY-IloUu7twSP3/s1600-h/Garfield+confused.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437031032866332674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 118px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFx_NSB2gm-xCW_22Jl4oF-2dL9SJstwYROmZqaZt9Oz4VimIgxpcRkePJ6ASy_36V3kxatvX_B4z1YUpze_jSiKJMz8aH1OQvjtzM-ccU1mVhIc0w9df2bB4jMeYt_YoY-IloUu7twSP3/s400/Garfield+confused.png" border="0" /></a> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>In this scene, we see Jon questioning the very nature of reality. He is not able to make himself believe that the satchel is in any way a real object. It seems that he wants to make himself touch the object to somehow confirm its realness, but I doubt that even that would convince him.<br /><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAPyBTadGJjzVDnLxXyVQyMoHcmHWYargpNzJ19dsYPeCYC_VeRGiU25f9Jjftr_tEgnP1wbw3G4KcJak3TF5rDOgfCiv2CSqXB3i_6uDIcAtbzVWHJGaJjaDlPr_0FTjzl5dprGMtpt1P/s1600-h/Jon+Suicide.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437031025410223186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 118px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAPyBTadGJjzVDnLxXyVQyMoHcmHWYargpNzJ19dsYPeCYC_VeRGiU25f9Jjftr_tEgnP1wbw3G4KcJak3TF5rDOgfCiv2CSqXB3i_6uDIcAtbzVWHJGaJjaDlPr_0FTjzl5dprGMtpt1P/s400/Jon+Suicide.png" border="0" /></a> <div>Now, Jon has detriorated into his final suicidal stage. Though he has acknoledged that he has no will to live, the reader is unclear as to what steps he will take to resolve this crisis. Will he see that he is at an ultimate lowpoint and pledge to spare himself for at least his family? Will he relieve himself from his suffering once and for all with one glorious leap of faith? I love this shit. I cant wait to see what happens next week!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-41097979122117586602010-02-10T07:21:00.000-08:002010-02-10T07:23:43.914-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8evBmXU78o9Uxlm33Kbw79Z3_5qF543fv8MkkGEq6jDyAX3VE7_BYsis8WHAsDtrAZiwnH1xPwaizqesKjyN997XajKGV_uQFJFm59qTS9nK-pYRd7gA3wqv19NTY-teDG6pcwXt-XlT-/s1600-h/undead+lady.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436635410139984754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 251px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 304px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8evBmXU78o9Uxlm33Kbw79Z3_5qF543fv8MkkGEq6jDyAX3VE7_BYsis8WHAsDtrAZiwnH1xPwaizqesKjyN997XajKGV_uQFJFm59qTS9nK-pYRd7gA3wqv19NTY-teDG6pcwXt-XlT-/s400/undead+lady.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /> Will You Not Be Silent?<br /><br /> Once again, I made my trip to the public library. Rodoslav, my Russian acquaintance, had paid me a severely low fee to assist him with his bio-weapons research, so I periodically tried to help him locate information.<br /> My task for the day was to learn more about the nature of the HIV virus, and whether or not we could find a way to make it airborne. I started to make some very good progress. I was what I believed to be upon the brink of a major scientific discovery when I was interrupted by a severely annoying individual.<br /> There she was, the one who refers to herself as Libby Deloris Agnes III. Just as I was about to find a way to engineer a entirely new virus, she asked me if I would like to hear her next poem.<br /> I did not respond, but she kept on talking to me as if I was someone who may come to regard her one day as someone that I might tolerate on a regular basis.<br /> She said, “Most People find my writing far too… dark. They just can’t, um, figure it out. I suppose it is because they don’t read and write as much as I do.”<br /> I told her, “In the unlikely event that I want your opinion, I shall ask for it.”<br />Despite telling her to fuck off so to speak, she went about trying to read to me her poem.<br /> <br /> The Gloom of the foggy highway<br /> Libby Agnes Deloris III<br /><br /> The gloomy highway was shrouded in fog.<br /> How miserable it was!<br /> A solitary man walked in the mist.<br /> Will he ever reach his destination?<br /> Probably not!<br /> A lone crow sat on an old tree.<br /> Caw! Caw!<br /> How drowsily it cawed!<br /> The Gloom<br /> The Fog<br /> The Smog<br /> The Ridiculous Blog!<br /> So Depressing<br /> So very Depressing<br /> The man continues to walk,<br /> The crow continued to squawk.<br /> <br /><br /> <br /> <br /><br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div> </div>Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-30402709260227688302010-02-10T04:49:00.001-08:002010-02-10T04:51:32.880-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjgM3Iv0STsxuoLZeWcD1RZa3e3DXRG9DZVzv_puhCkhCqxfRWmEnRZWwSxeHAbiEp6m_SBfRxp3YTl1VmAPJJdEfGbOVwHaVDGKYjX_CHekaH6JZPuAenTM3263rw32W7s8kcn47lg98v/s1600-h/Natty+Light.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436596540207359970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 198px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 216px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjgM3Iv0STsxuoLZeWcD1RZa3e3DXRG9DZVzv_puhCkhCqxfRWmEnRZWwSxeHAbiEp6m_SBfRxp3YTl1VmAPJJdEfGbOVwHaVDGKYjX_CHekaH6JZPuAenTM3263rw32W7s8kcn47lg98v/s400/Natty+Light.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>My Attempt to Understand Human Alcohol Consumption:<br />An Epic Story of Failure and Glorious Redemption<br /><br /><br />One thing I have noticed about human behavior is their insatiable need to consume alcohol, and the methods employed concerning said consumption.<br />I was informed by an unassuming local guy that the drink of choice in the city in which I reside is beer, and that the beer of choice is Natural Light. However, it is most often referred to in a more colloquial manner, being described as “Natty Light”<br />In order to facilitate a more peaceful transition into free society, I decided to take it upon myself to adopt the customs of the locals as my own. Waking up at the crack of dawn, I made my way to a small general goods peddling station in my neck of the woods.<br />One thing that I noticed about my part of town was that the security parameters of every home and business were much higher than that of the rest of the city. For every set of windows, there was a set of iron bars to protect them. There were also many other types of fortifications, with varying degrees of severity. One particular business had a 12 foot high chain link fence, which was further enhanced by what I can best describe as a circular wire containing and endless amount of very small, but very sharp daggers. Furthermore, there was a single smaller wire running through the center of circular wire pattern, from which a small sign was hanging. Though I could not make out the letters, there was a picture of what seemed to be a burst of electricity and a human skull. Though I do not know the meaning of this, I will probably consult the Shogun of the Dark before making any attempt to defeat the fortification.<br />After purchasing the “Natty Light”, I at once had to find out for myself what all the commotion was about. I quickly took my newfound purchase to the parking lot of the establishment, and, to the disdain of the individuals working there, began to quickly drink the fluids contained in the cans as rapidly as I could.<br />It angered me that the shop owners frowned upon my actions. Was this not the drink of the city, the one and only “Natty Light” that I had just purchased from them? If they are so doubtful as to the nature of the product that they are selling, then why do the sell it at all?<br />My Immediate reaction was none other than disgust. How horrible a concoction it was! I desperately wanted to stop drinking it, but my desire to learn the ways of human beings of free society was strong. I did not stop until all six of the sixteen ounce containers were consumed.<br />At that point, a miraculous thing happened. I thought It was too good to be true, but it was very much in fact a reality. The speed of the chatter of the demons in my had slowed considerably. Though they were not silenced altogether, I could not help but wallow in my own crapulence.<br />From that day forward, I made a regular pledge to myself to consume this drink as often as possible. This so called “Natty Light” could help me become a more perfect human being. It could allow me to escape the precarious ledge on which I perpetually occupied. Success and Failure, good and bad, right and wrong…. All these notions that so often swirled in my consciousness seemed to have less significance. The Natural light had become an investment in my future, and nothing less than a guardian of my soul.</div>Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-29123303090718455652010-02-09T20:10:00.000-08:002010-02-09T21:20:59.478-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZmqfBY6lR9WwMlFZG6Nqo3OsFGF9VtRGZtDw3sG-0zr4RxP3UunArcC6SemgDRoENSYm1t-JS7bR5gaqcqDz9AGmAFb0wUTsIoCzT0G0ApOeq0QZVRL07BoTF7izokzW26F_3I4nEYuj/s1600-h/2e520c787ddb1210.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436480443956630434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 141px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZmqfBY6lR9WwMlFZG6Nqo3OsFGF9VtRGZtDw3sG-0zr4RxP3UunArcC6SemgDRoENSYm1t-JS7bR5gaqcqDz9AGmAFb0wUTsIoCzT0G0ApOeq0QZVRL07BoTF7izokzW26F_3I4nEYuj/s400/2e520c787ddb1210.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:180%;"></span><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:180%;"></span></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The Age of Hobo<br /><br /><br />As of late, I seem to have been doing some soul searching. After much pounding of fists on the wall, and after much breaking of cheap Winn-Dixie brand bottles of charcoal filtered vodka, I came upon an epiphany. I realized, for the first time, how I might attain the one and only thing that would ever make me happy.<br />I must make the population of Earth suffer as I have. Only then can I be like them. Rarely do they ever give any thought as to the true nature of the darkness lurking beneath the surface as they go about their pathetic lives. Only after bringing forth depravity that lies beneath their superficial existence will they know….<br />Well.. Shit. What exactly it is that I want them to know? Im not quite sure myself. Of course, If I did know, then I probably wouldn’t be such a goddam hobo.<br />Regardless, I am going to go forth with my dark agenda. I have dissected the plan into two easy steps.<br /><br />1. Become president of the United States<br />2. Unleash my dark agenda<br /><br />Yes, very diabolical, is it not? Of course, it is not as simple as it sounds. Unfortunately, the president of the United States is not some kind of all powerful despot who can execute any order at will.<br />In my conversations with the Shogun of the Dark, I have learned that the United States has something referred to as a “Balance of Power”<br />It agreed with him that it was rather bizarre, but, it is just the way that things are. It seems that the President, who is in charge of what is referred to as the “executive branch”, must take into consideration the desires of the other major government organs. These branches have the capability to remove the President from office, and, if necessary, terminate his life.<br />In order to circumvent this process, I have come up with an ingenous plan.<br />I will give the population what they want. In doing so, It will bring about their downfall. It has become clear to me that the people of Earth are a flaky bunch. What they really desire is actually not what they need at all. What I am going to reveal to you now is only a small part of my larger manifesto.<br /><br />(Please keep in mind that the object of all the following ideas is to drastically lower the earths population, deplete all resources, and destroy all relics and shrines of every sort)<br /><br />The Population Demands Oil. You must feed on their desire, exponentially increasing oil and gas production. When production is at its peak, you will fire bomb every single one of them<br />The population wants to further their own horribly misguided conception of the supernatural. You will build a seemingly endless assortment of temples of all kinds to appease the masses. In very small incremental steps, you will take steps to pervert their beliefs. In their confusion, you will construct a new false idol of epic proportions. By the time they realize what is happening, all of their gold will either be consumed or seized.<br /><br />The Population wants to increase their understanding of outer space. You will do all you can do advance scientific research. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to them, you are working on a new weapon of incomprehensible destructive power. You will use this to destroy the moon. Chaos will reign supreme<br /><br />This are just the first few points of my ongoing manifesto. If anybody else has any suggestions, shoot me an e-mail! :D</div>Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-16254284318434618012010-02-09T17:11:00.001-08:002010-02-09T18:15:18.417-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSUPsSl4GzNZk-U5z8RFKm2PzMET64v4GKihOT-fEHcJL2e2GBAnqBLoGib5NULjdMzDTc8jodROOv8j2RUXez_18xjQMETHpNnlLO1VEEzOWTny45MYQhxvSg5gU65AKbyb8w_M6oolcW/s1600-h/Stanky+Zebra.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436416499139677122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 170px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 113px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSUPsSl4GzNZk-U5z8RFKm2PzMET64v4GKihOT-fEHcJL2e2GBAnqBLoGib5NULjdMzDTc8jodROOv8j2RUXez_18xjQMETHpNnlLO1VEEzOWTny45MYQhxvSg5gU65AKbyb8w_M6oolcW/s400/Stanky+Zebra.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">Oh My God!</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></div><br /><div align="left"> In the past few days, I have been spending a good deal of time in public libraries, trying to discover if there is a way that I can concentrate quantities of bread mold to the point where it can be <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">weaponized</span>.</div><div align="left"> One interesting character that I have run across during my research is a teenage girl named Libby Agnes Deloris III. She claims to be an aspiring writer, and has pestered me to no end in an attempt to get me to offer some sort of constructive criticism.</div><div align="left"> I got a chance to look over some of her material, and I would have to say that I am perplexed. I do agree with many aspects of her artistic vision, but lets just say that I did not give her props whereas style is concerned.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> She suggested that I listen to some dark sounding tunes while I look over her manuscript. I suppose you might want to do so as well, as if it even fucking matters......</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="center"> The Dank Dark Coffin in the Mire</div><div align="center"> Libby Agnes Deloris III</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> So dank was the dark coffin!</div><div align="center"> It sank ever so deeper into the mire,</div><div align="center"> down down down </div><div align="center"> into the darkness it went.</div><div align="center"> No light was shining upon it!</div><div align="center"> So Dark!</div><div align="center"> So Dank!</div><div align="center"> Nothingness.</div><div align="center"> So complete was the nothingness.</div><div align="center"> It was hoped that,</div><div align="center"> Some how, Some way,</div><div align="center"> There might be an end to the endless <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">despair</span>.</div><div align="center"> No.</div><div align="center"> No Hope.</div><div align="center"> No Relief.</div><div align="center"> Never.</div><div align="center"> Down Down Down,</div><div align="center"> Further it went.</div><div align="center"> Oh my God!</div><div align="center"> The <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Nightmare</span> was only beginning!</div><div align="center"> Below the dank dark coffin,</div><div align="center"> There was a dark <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">stanker</span> coffin. </div><div align="center"> So deeply it Sank! </div><div align="center"> Oh My God!</div><div align="center"> Will the Terror never end?</div><div align="center"> The Dankness!</div><div align="center"> The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Stankness</span>!</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div>Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-56574178248870242142010-02-09T16:22:00.001-08:002010-02-09T16:41:58.114-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix-Jy2oQ1dcexO357LYvEqR3Y3hJphqdZJkakrsYm7_FbJ-3foZ2zYye3NghgFsC01A8SrLsNytuhOipvXgKWumEcA3fCPCWyY_WVhyphenhyphenpaofk2p_9rKia7vPlrpQKp5AcwdvBlU_NUW4ZIZ/s1600-h/795e11a339809502.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436404847867546594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 97px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 130px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix-Jy2oQ1dcexO357LYvEqR3Y3hJphqdZJkakrsYm7_FbJ-3foZ2zYye3NghgFsC01A8SrLsNytuhOipvXgKWumEcA3fCPCWyY_WVhyphenhyphenpaofk2p_9rKia7vPlrpQKp5AcwdvBlU_NUW4ZIZ/s400/795e11a339809502.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Who <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Dat</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Mutha</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Fucka</span> ? </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">The Past few days have been extremely terrifying for my Russian friend. Seeing as how he works in a secret bio-weapons lab in which most of his co-workers are also coerced <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Russians</span>, he has little understanding of the customs of the south. Being exposed to a virtually endless <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">assault</span> of strangers yelling "Who <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">dat</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Mutha</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Fucka</span>", his spirit had been broken down into a pathetic, sheep-like, cowardly state.</span></div><div align="left"> Though I secretly mocked his sorrow, I could not help but try to console him, seeing as how he liberated me from the dumpster behind super-target. He asked of me, "What is meaning of Who <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Dat</span>? why are they trying to destroy me?"</div><div align="left"> I told that my own understanding was very limited, but I would try my best to enlighten him. I explained that the meaning of "Who <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Dat</span>" is a severe bastardization of the English Language. I tried to clarify that it means, "Who are they that say that they can defeat our football team? Those that say that are probably bearers of untruth." </div><div align="left"> Football, as far as I know, is a sporting event where warriors of enhanced physical attributes try to force each other out of the arena. Those that are able to accomplish this are awarded a "Safety" I think it is named thus because those that are able to do this are safe for yet another week from being executed by their overseers. makes sense to me.</div><div align="left"> I also went on to say that the commotion surrounding the sports team would eventually calm down at least somewhat, and that it was only a matter of time before he would be able to come out of hiding. Man, some people are so fucking stupid.</div><div align="left"> </div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div>Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6001133078420949928.post-71322556766342847332010-02-09T15:42:00.000-08:002010-02-09T15:57:29.641-08:00<div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">Shogun of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Dark</span> Rules of the Road</span></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="left"> One of my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">accomplishments</span> in life as a free man as of late has been the acquiring of my own automobile. I was able to purchase one from an Oriental rug dealer for a lowly $500. Though it does not meet the standards of most freemen, I am still able to employ it as a tool to further my goals. </div><div align="left"> Before I took to the roads in my newly purchased truck, the Shogun of the Dark took the time to teach me the ways of the American <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">transportation</span> system. I will post it below for all posterity.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> Shogun of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Dark's</span> Driving hand book:</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> Rule #1: Other drivers are not to be regarded as human beings, but as adversaries</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> Above all, You must never buy into the delusion that other drivers have friends or family that care for them, or that their existence has any value at all. For all intents and purposes, They are mindless drones that serve no other purpose than to impair your progress.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> Rule #2: You must never show any fear. Ever.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> If you show even the slightest weakness, your enemies will exploit it to the fullest. You must never allow them to make an offering of victory to their false god while your bones bleach in the sun.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> Rule #3: You must establish yourself as a threat <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">immediately</span>.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> Perhaps this is the most important rule of all. If you make it clear to your enemies that you are willing to throw your life away in anger at the slightest provocation, then your adversaries or more willing to fear and respect you.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> The Shogun of the Dark told me that as long as I adhere to these simple rules, I will be able to fade in and out of the transportation nexus at will, and that I would have a more enjoyable driving experience as a whole.</div>Sauce Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08008297327243708067noreply@blogger.com0