The Warlord’s Prayer

Hell has brought me here. I have come home. Hell is the only place that does not betray me or expose me. Heaven has rules – hell does not. Success is what I savor. So I go where I thrive. In the jungle, it is the animal that rules. I love it when I feel nature crushed underfoot as I pass through spreading terror. Glory in my destruction! I am the beast and I have come to rule!

Deluded souls come to turn hell into heaven. I welcome them. I wish all to share in my domain. Laughing, they say they will defeat me, thinking they have tricked me by my allowing them in. But in the end they do not realize our goals are the same: to not seek heaven itself. The fools, the followers, the failed, the foul, the fearful, the feculent – please, join my futility, my friends! It is my burning desire.

Many try to destroy me. They cannot. For I am them! Who among you does not believe in war? Who among you says your savior has not a sword? Who among you says the world can live without hate? It’s not me they seek to destroy – it's their own sins they wish to hide. You created me, shaped me in the womb of war, beat the human out of me – for "my own good" – and taught me well your ways. I come back now to eat you, my dead eyes feeling no remorse.


The four corners of the earth are my steppingstones. Your palaces are my outhouses. All the finest things sit at my feet. You declare me outlaw but no matter how many morals you claim none of you defies the beast. Socialism, fascism, communism, capitalism, this ism, that ism – they all worship at the altar of money. The beast is my protector and I have risked all for the beast. To defeat me you must first give up the power given to your money! HAHAHAHAHA!

When I must stop to breathe, I find shelter in your hidden perversions. Thank God you are truly no better than me or my time would be short indeed. The world, you see, is a criminal enterprise. Justice is not its goal; it smothers those who seek it - and by God you're not going to goddam smother me! The criminals may change but our endeavors do not. Put on whatever disguise you want: the policeman's badge, the high priest's robes, the soldier's camouflage or the businessman's suit, just please continue to keep up the hypocritical lie. Without it I die.

This prayer inspired by Viktor Bout, Merchant of Death

I am the god-Man, Goo-Goo, Goo Joob!

"I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together."
There were rumors of a new leader around, a Super Leader, unlike you and me. A leader who could be blindly followed and unburden his followers from the unbearable oppression of thinking. No mere mortal was he rumored to be, but a god!

"Awesome, dude! No one can question a god!"

"He’s different than us. He must be better!"

"He shall save me from me!"

They Who Need To Be Led gathered to hear the god-Man, a.k.a. the Man Who Needed No Water. No one could match him! He could cross deserts, had the endurance of twenty men and never needed to pee! Oh, to be like the god-Man and not be bound by earthly rules. This gave fresh hope to the sheeple trudging along in miserable reality.

"Expert textpert choking smokers,
Don't you think the joker laughs at you?"
All hushed as the god-Man began. “There are those among you who say we are all the same on the inside, that universal truths exist for all of us. But I say the only truths are the ones we make!” Wild applause for the new hero. "Don't believe defeatists who tell you nature is the only way. Forget the futurists who see no tomorrow on the road we follow. But embrace the enlightenment that life is as we wish!" Spontaneous cheering - laced with a certain anger -erupted in bitter delight. "To the doubters I say: How do you know what you know? What is the definition of 'know'? Who is anyone to say what absolute reality is? Today, I bring you a new reality and black is no longer just black and white is no longer only white."

The leader’s words fed a need and a hunger in the sheeple for hope, for they were on a hopeless path. Their own unworthy thoughts told them to find a different path, that they were going the wrong way, and such thoughts tormented them in eternal agony. Mercifully, this Man of Superior Thoughts came to show them the error of their ways. Yet, doubters remained and the only way to resolve the truth was by invoking the holy crucible to purge all lies: a Silly Argument.

Silly Men stood on a stage in front of the gasping crowd. It was a Momentous Occasion, for these mental giants would cull truth from the miasmic cloud of illusion, enthralling the watching throng as a magician with his Magic Hat.

The Conspiracist charged first. "You are lying and I have the proof!"

"Show me your proof and I’ll show you my ass!"

"You must take us for fools! Everyone needs water! You cannot survive without it!"

“Poppycock! Love is completely optional! What are you, a biologist? Explain to me just exactly how I quote unquote need water.”

"Well…uh…your body, you know, it just has to have it. I don't have to prove it, everyone knows it."

"But you just said you had proof! Was it only in your mind? If you can’t explain it then it must not be true!" taunted god-Man.

"Dammit, I know I’m right! I just know it…" But the Conspiracist was defeated into silence– only to be replaced by yet another.

"I, sir, am a biologist. This I can tell you: Your body is made up of mostly of water. Approximately 85% of your brain, 80% of your blood and 70% of your muscle is water. Every cell in your body needs water to live. That, sir, is reality."

"No, sir, that is your reality. I tether myself to no reality of yours!"

"It’s the reality of all of us! There are no exceptions!"

"You’re just making up facts to suit yourself, painting me with your own limitations. In a word: you’re a loser! Looo-ser!"

"I’m not a loser! I’m a highly respected biologist! I know what I’m talking about."

But for a Man Who Knew What He Was Talking About – to be the one who spoke truly – how then was he losing the debate? Every eye in the crowd was on the accused loser, questioning him, doubting him. Even he started to question himself. "Look, it’s true. We all need water!” His voice was draining confidence, searching the audience. "You know I’m right. Right?" But cries of 'How do you know?' and 'Fraud!' were gaining momentum , shouting down the biologist who stepped on their dreams. Man-God was happy.

“No one can stand before my truth! Forget the reality you think you know and follow the words I give you! Dream your dreams, there is no reality but the one you make.” It was then he collapsed on stage, dying of dehydration. Curiously, many of god-Man’s most fervent followers felt a sense of relief.

"Elementary penguin singing Hare Krishna,
Man, you should have seen them kicking Edgar Alan Poe."
"Why, fraud-Man? Why did you do it? All our dreams are crushed now!"

"Mine too!" bemoaned fraud-Man. "But I had to do it. I just don’t believe I can get the water I need. So I chose to believe I didn’t need any. That way I could live."

There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth as fraud-Man died. Ugly, sober reality returned with a vengeance to the wretched sheeple. What hope had they now, forever trapped by the iron grip of their needs? God had placed them in a hopeless existence and farted on them daily.


But through the heavy air came a voice – a new voice, a true voice, the voice of a leader! "That man was a fraud! His only goal to mislead foolish and lost souls, hiding himself in the shadows of your own self-deceptions. He tried to build himself up instead of building others up. Do you hear what I’m saying?" The grateful sheep bahhh-ed in approval. The New Great This-Time-For-Real Leader continued: "Do not be misled again-“ – cries of 'Hell No!' and 'Never again!' ached him – "- for truly I tell you: it is I who needs no water. I am the god-Man, Goo-Goo, Goo Joob!"

Then the sheeple followed him off a cliff.

"I know thee well: a serviceable villain,
As duteous to the vices of thy mistress
As badness would desire."

Bill Maher, Religious Fanatic

Religion, as I've stated by before, is a belief system made up by people to make them feel good about themselves. Then once that belief system is established, it is then ascribed to be in accordance with the truth. So it's pretty easy to see how fights and wars and arguments and other good stuff break out when one religion clashes with another. "I can't be wrong, man. That would mean my whole life is shit!" Well, guess what, dude. Your whole life is shit.

Turns out even the cheapest motel has HBO now. And I saw Bill Maher’s show where he was red-faced and livid over the Bible. Gee, Bill, what did the Bible ever do to you? His answer would probably be along the lines of how he hates the friction religion has caused, the wars fought over it and how it’s used as tool for oppression. But Bill, I asked about the Bible. What he would say after that, who cares. Point is, a true religious fanatic equates religion with God. As clearly Bill Maher does.

Bill represses his religious beliefs. This gives rise to his twisted thinking that if he can somehow disprove a religion that professes there's a God, then his religion that there is no God will be shown to be The Way. Funny logic, that! It’s just one more attempt of trying to establish a self-serving "truth". Just because religion has nothing to do with God doesn’t mean there is no God.


God is like a car loan for a really kick ass car. We drive the car, run around in it, get laid in it – a total blast. God has trusted with this fine thing in the hopes we'll pay Him back. And when we don't pay back the trust shown us, we feel unbearably guilty and start making crap up – like God doesn’t exist (so then nothing is owed!). Or we make up rules saying that to follow them pays back God. No wonder we're all so touchy considering the lies we feed ourselves.

Bill Maher's funniest line of the night was unintentional. Speaking of the Ten Commandments he said they were written for "a primitive people in a primitive world." See if a night under the I-45 bridge doesn’t change your view a bit there, Bill-man. That's the problem with evolutionists, they always think they're the best there ever was. Being backwards in a different way makes you no less backward. Unfortunately for Bill, he actually tried to back up his arguments.

"You shall not misuse the name of the Lord your God, for the Lord will not hold anyone guiltless who misuses his name." Moron Bill misinterprets that to mean you’re not supposed swear. But he couldn't be more goddamn wrong. What it does mean is you don't commit evil acts in the name of God like, say, invading a foreign country for its resources because God told you to. On this I think Bill would be in complete agreement. You Bible-lover, Bill!

"You shall have no other gods before me." Again, in an effort to protect his own religion, Bill twists this meaning to suit his own ends. He tries to say this means don't build statues or whatnot to pray to. But I hate to break it ya, Bill, this world has more gods than you can count that people pray to. I'll never forget that cunt on the phone who willingly brought destruction on my life because I couldn't please her credit rating god. It's all about setting up a god – any god – that you can worship and believe will bring you life. It’s the whole basis for money – serve it and live, refuse and die. It's a metaphor for the real God.


Just as we laugh at ancient peoples praying to little statuettes to save them, so would the first inhabitants laugh at us for poisoning our air and water, killing and raping one another and destroying our future over little pieces of paper we value more than human life. With half the world needlessly starving, mankind is as brutally savage as it ever was. I guess if I were in denial about that I would attack the Bible too. The ugly soul always attacks the mirror. But Bill is also one that fights for fairness and justice and equity and wants an end to violence. You can hear the frustration in his voice when he speaks of such things. If only he didn't let his religion get in the way!

A Perfect Girl

"You, honey" - he breathed in the utmost passion of conviction – "are perfect! Dear God, are you ever perfect!"

'Perfect', the crack cocaine of words. Too weak to even put up a false denial, she succumbed to its intoxicating power. Say nothing! He might take it back! Surging through her veins, the word rushed through, caressing her aches and soothing her woes of reality. If only she could hide in these throes of ecstasy forever!

“You can say anything,” she lied. “Just don’t call me smart. I is a dumb ol’ girl, I am!”

“Honey, you’re perfect to me!” This proclamation was deeper, even better than before. Walls breaking down, she came begging for more.

“But I is really dumb, sir! You just wouldn’t believe! I know you’re way smarter than I could ever be about stuff, but there’s still this little voice inside of me saying I ain’t perfect at all!”

“Hogwash!” was the swift and firm denial – a perfect denial. Hard and fast and completely sure of itself, confidently doing all her thinking for her. She surrendered to its total penetration of her being. “You know what that voice is?” he boomed. “It’s the voice of the Enemy. The Enemy wants to break you down, make you feel like you’re nothin’. That way he can make you do whatever he wants. Don’t listen to the Enemy – listen to me!”

She arched her back in compliance. “I will! I will!”

“Lies like that Voice are snakes! Once you let them inside ya, it’s impossible to get them out. Stay strong with the truth, never forsake your integrity! Do you believe what I'm telling you?”

“Oh, I do, I do! Every inch of it!”

“Good, that’s perfect! Trust me, honey, just so long as you keep doing what you’re doing, no one’s ever going to say a bad word about you!”

And with that, he pulled his dick out.

Hope (illusions of)

False hope, that’s what I’ve been living on. Doing this blog and its commentaries has gotten me hopes up, giving me an inexplicable sense of excitement and unfounded optimism. Had I been able to publish my book and make my film – no mean feats in any lifetime – maybe all my babbling on here would have some relevance. I was writing as if I were a celebrity blogger, that everyone should read it because of who I am. A sad plan of self-deception.

I can no longer feed myself this lie. I feel closer to death now than I ever have. I was broken a few nights ago. Something weighed on my soul so heavily that I was eventually forced to face it. So what was it that drove me to the edge of insanity? I needed a talk with Debby. A simple conversation. I deny, deny, deny – but in the end, I really can’t do without her. This is a source of much of my mental and emotional anguish. What hope have I of reaching her?

I thought if I spoke words of truth on my blog it would matter. Who knows if I have or not. I’m pretty scared myself and that can lead to self-serving comments. I used to think how vile it was when I read of the so-called nobles of yore mocking the idea of democracy and a rule by the common people. They are too stupid, they said, too unintelligent. Not that those fat pigs were speaking out of anything but self-interest, but perhaps they were right. I remember the story of the great Greek hero Thermisticles, who alone among all the Greeks faced the fact the mighty Persian empire was coming back to destroy them when all others had no interest in preparation. But what do you do when no one accepts the truth?


In Thermisticles’ case, he lied. He told the stupid masses something they would believe: of how a neighboring island was preparing to attack, thus he was able convince his countrymen to use the new found wealth from a silver mine to build war ships. Now there’s a case of political leadership. (Unfortunately, every lying politician since then has claimed to be doing it for the common good also). The path for me too is to create something that sells. (“Listen, Steve, a message from home!”)

I have a link to Flavia Colgan’s page here on my blog and I would sincerely give my eye teeth to meet her. She is an amazing person who makes me feel good just listening to her speak. She too has hope in the truth of life – but it’s through a filter of politics. As if souls can be saved if we elect the right people. It’s true that over the past seven years, America has chosen to destroy herself. There is no Thermisticles to save the Great Unwashed this time, political pollution bringing only poison. I wonder what Flavia’s life would be like were she to face that fact.

I’m not saying there's no hope. There is hope - in life (though not for the ways of the world). For me it was with Debby. When I imagine life with her, all the problems of the world fade away into nothingness. I could see Eternal Life with her. Once you have that, the fate of your body doesn’t seem so significant. Love truly is all we need after all.

Decembers of Despair

It's no coincidence I started this blog in a December. It is by far my worst month of the year. I don't know why it is that way, I just know that it always happens. Who knows, in this perverted life of mine maybe what would have been my favorite time of year is now my worst. December of two years ago I was going out of my mind with rage and frustration and I've been venting ever since. This year is no better.

It could be that something happens in this month that allows me to move closer to reality. That, of course, means facing my life and all of its (and my) inadequacies. Meeting Debby forced this upon me also. It's in these moments I can truly see the Hell I've created for myself. At the end of "Platoon", the Sheen character kills the tormented (and tormenter) Berenger character. But when Sheen talked of that scene, he said his character didn't think of it as killing him, he thought of it as releasing him. That's how I view my death.

I feel left behind, a man who through pride or attitude or whatever stayed behind when others moved on. Now I'm terrified by what I've done. I touched on this before when I felt surrounded by ice. Now I see myself lost in a desert, knees huddled to my chin in a relentless blowing wind of sand and scorn. A solitary soul who now clearly sees the mistakes of his ways - yet does not move. I have no defense for this.

My dreams exhaust me, continual nightmares of the day, going something like this:

I'm in Pier 1, a store that was exotic to me in my youth when I visited it with my parents, only now I'm in there as a homeless loser and I'm looking for something to eat. The clerks have to explain to me there's nothing to eat there and I say I know that only I don't because I don't know what I know. Customers peer at me through the corner of their eyes and whisper: "He's stupid!", "A crazy man!", "Make him go away." I keep wandering around the store a bit - feeling all eyes on me - so I can pretend I came in for something other than food, as if I were really going to buy something. I ask myself, "Do they know? Do they know I'm a fraud, that I can't buy anything? Oh Jesus, get me out of here. I've fucked up again!"

I wake up gritting my teeth and my jaw's sore from tension. It's actually a relief to find out it's only a dream - and yet I still feel trapped in the feeling. Dear God, release me.

I don't have the powers to express the desperation I feel when my mind goes black and I look around the desert in endless solitude knowing that even if I scream until the end of time, no one will hear. This makes it hard to sleep in the desert night. My bones are tired, more tired than they've ever been. When I shut my eyes to rest, I find hell, and when I open them again, I find hell there too.

Arm Flapping, Inc.

Each of us exists in a vortex between our own personal reality and Reality itself. When these two realities are in conflict, we have war. When conflict is absent, we have harmony. Luckily, harmony is what everyone says their reality is! But even if conflict does exist, for a time, even that can seem as harmony.


If a man jumps off a cliff and flaps his arms, he can - for a time - claim to be flying. And it's during this time before reality (literally) hits curious things can be observed! Two groups of people are drawn to such a person. First are the Blind Loyalists, "friends" of the Arm Flapper who cheer him on: "Don't listen to the naysayers, the defeatists and the small-minded men who say it can't be done! You showed them all you can fly!" Next are the Morality Posers. "We have come not to speak ill of this man, to judge him not and any idea of interference is off the table!" Thus did they hope to be seen in the right.


But the true tragedy was none admitted "Flying Man" wore a parachute - not even the flyer himself. So taken was he with the idea he could fly, the moron rejected any thought of opening his chute. He was falling to greatness, rewriting history on what was and was not possible! He was, quite simply, a god. This drove his Blind Loyalists into a frenzy, cheering him to "stay the course!" After a lifetime of losing, the Arm Flapper gloried in success beyond his wildest dreams.


The Morality Posers congratulated themselves for not engaging in such tomfoolery and proudly proclaimed how they had no ill will to destroy the Flapper's dream. But searing anguish did it cause when others insisted the Falling Man use his chute! Bitter rage and howling wails rained down upon these Insisters of Reality from the Flapper and his ilk in such fury that their venom could not be mistaken: to criticize is to declare total war. Upon hearing this, the Posers - self-styled patrons of peace - dutifully held their tongues.


But Reality - with a THUD a thousand feet below - made all this moot. No longer was there any right or wrong, traitors or patriots, sane or insane - there was only That Which Was: an irreversible Reality of doom. For in his (allowed) grab for ultimate power, the Flapper held secret the place he'd stored the summer harvest. That was his personal laughing legacy as his people watched the cold of winter slowly sap the warmth from their days. And in the frigid winds of cold starvation, no longer was harmony proclaimed.


Reality trumps all Man's claims of self-righteousness.