M.J. Banks

Kid in a Candy Store

2012-02-06T00:30:00.000-06:00

The misery index, affected by tax cuts in an unfettered economy is relegated by an acceptable level of income, with low tax rates the value of the currency is likely high, efficiency will be high, and wages will be small by number but high in worth, applicable and adequate to an acceptable living condition. This said again is put as the real wage is low, but the value is immense, a penny for your thoughts.

The long-term progression of the wage, its equity and liquidity value depends on productivity, particularly levels of output, in the interim a tax cut increases output which proves competitive to both supply and demand of compliant markets forcing an austerity and efficiency of extant conditions regardless of commodity price or gross revenue. Lowered costs between foreign and domestic supplies is necessary for conservatism, like regions benefit from commerce as it improves wage while increasing tax revenue without consumerism.

Regarding long-term effects of tax cuts, the effect is duly identical to supply and demand equations, if an employer cuts taxes for its employee, alleviation is granted to the employee who circumstantially is not obligated to spend their money to the employer. Such is true with the symbiotic relationships of subsidized entitlements and managed dependency, without external investment or exploitation social cohesion is irrelevant and untenable. Some relations are simpatico and others detrimental, rising wages of either worth or weight increase causing equilateral degradation to separate entities, but if the currency is the same or similarly if exchange rates are fixed the consumer price index remains unaltered, requiring taxes to be cut or services required thereof to be more valuable, how does the state fare.

Merlin 2:25 “A Raven's Eye, Does Mischief Spy”

2012-02-03T08:31:00.000-06:00

Merlin 2:25 “A Raven's Eye, Does Mischief Spy”
M.J. Banks

A warm water steams in a pool fueled by an aquifer against the high water table, cut into the soil a filled sinkhole the span of a roman bath, it doth steam as does the vast countryside, a blackly foul winged beast called a dragon egresses swiftly from a cave and hunts a roebuck, taking it back to the tunnel leading down into the earth, evil whispers of rocks and dripping water fashion of underground caverns more like sirens darkly forbidding and weary burden of the night loth to those who blithely carry metal. It feasts on a nest of bones well licked clean with a fire in its gut, its talons sink into the fertile muck and mire, sickly are the leeches feeding on sin in pitch-colored darkness.

Elsewhere is that pond, warm and tumultuous, calm and silent, approaches Etain the empress of fire and wrath, contemptible and barefoot wearing an empress’s robe with an imperial sash sewn to it that spans slightly beyond the shoulders, next to the water she slips it from her body and starkly bare sits beside the pool and puts her legs into it, then enters the water completely submerging and rising with her hair free of her face. As a Saracen she is a liar, a killer, and thief, by wits as called the fates some call her demon, alas forsooth her trap is set as she bathes her whiles the water gets warmer.

She is watched so only by two men walking over the rise of a hillock with a row of pine, long below she rests at the water’s edge and stares to them no sooner than they see her, she wades back and with an arm covering her the other treads water and they come to the waterside.

Rick: “How is the water?”
Etain: “The water is always wonderful.”
Rick: “Surely ma’am you have room for another in the water.”
Etain: “I could use the comfort of many men, especially by the likes of you.”
Ross: “Which one?”
Etain: “If the both of you don’t peel and join me I’ll likely follow you home.”
Ross: “You would let us join you stark, how raving mad?”
Etain: “You had better get in here before the water gets cold!”
Ross: “Succor to be the last.”
Rick: “You’re too old to swim Ross.”

Etain laughs at them as the hot spring pool continues to get unnaturally warm while they race to become nude, their gloves and gallant attire, their shirts by sleeves then fumbling boots to bottoms. First Rick jumps into the water with an exclamation of joy through the air, the water is seconds unto boiling and he screams in anguish, struggling to take his life from brazen death he shouts to warn his comrade, but the excitement ignores the danger and his attempt to reach the edge to stop him seems only a competitive dissuasive effort to curtail him joining with a woman in the water. Soon diving to follow the screams are caterwauls with her pulling herself from the water to the ledge by rising from the water as if had steps, slapping their struggling hands, boiled alive they soon scar red with their backs and heads at the surface as she pilfers their pockets.

Etain: “You have my permission to get hot and bothered.”

Otherwhere a naked Nickolas walks thru the countryside as he has for days, naked as a jaybird, smiling and in good sport to the form given him, humming a luxury song and heading on the highroad of the hills as possible.

Between the cave and the water hole, three young adults wait and gossip on and around a boulder in the outland, a woman named Maia, and her academy fellows, two men, Bolak and Sotheli, and approaching nude to pass by them a naked man named Nickolas, they are struck silent by shock and awe, if not replete with the childish humor of frivolity and expression.

Bolak: “When will they be here?”
Maia: “When they finish their chores.”
Sotheli: “It’s going to cost them their studies.”
Bolak: “No worse than you…they have a trade. Army is just another career for the blondes. Have you ever seen them play when it wasn’t windy or dark?”
Maia: “We are judged by the eyes of god…”

As Maia looks on Nickolas, Sotheli turns to see what intrigues her.

Sotheli: “Bolak look…”
Bolak: “Walking-off your pound of flesh sir?”
Nick: “Easiness is a virtue in liberty pace elder liberality.”
Bolak; “Good morrow…”
Nick: “Good morrow.”

Cheerily Nickolas distances himself towards the wretched water, it is plagued by the blood of the two bodies and on side road Etain makes into the woods over a lesser path, but notices Nickolas aberrantly walking in order worth confused, amused, and refused she to anew confrontation tho remembering him from her previous engagement. She spends moments watching him only to vanish as hastily possible whence he happens upon her truth and agony of the cradle of filth. Nickolas peers, looks around, takes and clothes hurriedly, and wherewith runs from the disgusting mess of body soup with questions unanswered and fewer clues.

Merlin 2:24 “Hamadryad”

2012-01-30T14:46:00.000-06:00

Merlin 2:24 “Hamadryad”
M.J. Banks

A verdant green floor with patches of the blackest soil, the roots of straining fingers holding the sediment without impediment for smooth greys and wrinkled dark barks, the air hangs thick with a river for an overcast sky the clouds heavy pass hastily, the sound of nigh is dense beyond its foremost distance causing silence and the sounds of nature to be captured in condensation. The brightest white of quite delight the plight of right where summers knight a unicorn stands rangy, a swift charger of speed as any steed standing with mud only to its hooves no deeper even if it were to concede to sleeping as if it were not keeping watchful eye and eating moss to feed. Upon its gentle brow a majestic horn, the spiral shadow of it the only color not fair, at zenith a pointed thorn so sharp to be a blade suspect to oft forbade its daring foes forewarned who do not live to tell their tale or so much tell it well if they had stayed, the books have done it well relay this day that knaves do not avail.

Turns of the wind have brought the cold of season’s shifting, the trees are strong and their branches high without hitch and pine, the cones have begun to drop and the few leafy trees are weakened in the wind, the phoenix’s glory is turgid and distempered by the frigid air. As the skies pass in unrest the ground is a stricture layer of fog that covers the entire forest, intractable through the clouded ground the phoenix fails to move any farther and sits contemptibly stubborn, the fog that rolls is at their knees and it grows from the phoenix a slowly billowing nest of cloud.

Standing replete of desolation on a dreary midday overcast where the air is heavy and the darkness tall as the trees, in the forest they spy a unicorn, the likes of which beheld they never yet. It is showing signs of anger behind Alerion and Troy and as he begins to slide from the phoenix it turns its limber neck to see the white horse with a horn on its head, without haste the phoenix leaps into the air before its wings can even open, Troy struggles to stay saddled as they vault upwards and stirring the fog with flustering wings on char that glow as embers in the passing wind. The unicorn scrapes its front hoof on the dirt and snouts to display anger, its head lowers and eyes take forward a stare anxiety as it faces Merlin, he holds a wand as he watches the creature.

Ana: “Is that necessary?”
Merlin: “It scared the familiar didn’t it?”

Ana prepares for the worst as she plays a fire with her fingertips, the unicorn notices her and him again with a restless nature, a sacrosanct and infinitesimal window of light begins to glow at the end of the wand, the unicorn resigns its anger and bowing sighs a silent breath of steam into the fog covered floor, it partially looks to the left, then turns to the right and runs into the afternoon of autumn.

Nick: “That was worth what is this dreary life.”
Merlin: “If another one comes you can fight it for us.”
Nick: “I would rather you turn it to stone.”
Merlin: “If that wouldn’t just anger it, I don’t know if I could.”
Nick: “We’re not alone.”
Ana: “Perhaps, but I’ve never met one who’s lived to talk of a unicorn.”
Nick: “No, I mean we’re not alone again.”

A shirtless boy stands in the forest with skin covered or colored by ash, his hair is dark the color of blackened oil with accordant sheen, tattered trousers and filthy feet, sick to seem the woes of lost at night the child leans against the nearest tree as if wounded and tired, a ruse to keep concerned travelers the child disinterested of hunting the unicorn is sick with vampirism, with a wild smile of fangs the vampire child attacks Nickolas.

Ana reaches to pull the blood fiend from Nickolas, putting her hand between them she fiery blasts it away from him, it sees Merlin and attacks him opportunely but is tossed into the air with the power of harnessed lightning that flashes at first contact against his skin, thrown to the ground a safe distance from the other and stunted an arrow lands piercing into its leg from on high.

Merlin: “Resend it to God.”
Nick: “A redress with no questions?”
Merlin: “It will not answer, and if there are more, we’ll know soon enough.”

Nickolas thrusts a knife into the creature, it does not make a sound only hissing and violent resistance that doesn’t last, a raven is calling in the distant fog. The silence unnatural breaks as the figure of the ice witch in the distance vanishes just as soon as she is spotted, captured only in a glimpse, as the skies have washed ashore the wind still blows with thin tepid rain.

The tree spirits gather, dryads, soldiers of the earth, some with seeds in and falling from their hair, in warren of a marcher lord, quietly approaching.

The ground is soft and long forgotten by travelers, there is bright darkness on the moss covered ground, at midday the fog is gone but the sun doth not shine. They find a road in the woods and follow it, they are quiet and tiring and between dawn and dusk they make camp, as Merlin sits roadside Nickolas and Ana make their way into the land fervently covered in moss, leaving him to notice how the road narrows barely noticeably. Troy lands briskly and gracefully on phoenix Alerion and looks for the others, Merlin points to the woods without speaking and putting his finger to his lips he shushes him.

Eventually Merlin and Troy begin to converse in isolation of what behooves purpose betwixt what has vexed withal forthcoming, the subtle questions of kin and despicable advice of brethren, jesting and discourteous in admission to the treatment of levity, indifferently apropos pecuniary costs of spells in store against the future, defraying éclat in consummate quandary the stage is set and trap endeavoring livelihood. Through the consolation of a thousand savage comforts Nickolas and Ana after hours on the forest floor decide to rejoin party with impoverished improvements of questionable safety standard, there are dryads gathering.

Thy wood people are armed unto the tooth, spears and daggers, bows and arrows, sharp thorns and cusps. Charged to protect the vampire they believe Merlin and his fellows to be guilty of murder. They make the trees grow over the unsuspecting phoenix but the boughs fear the eternal fire and refuse to grasp, but the hysteria is crossing inception as Troy rides aback with arrow strung and drawn tautly, in flight a view of many foes. Highly calculated the smaller Apple nymphs move first they approach cautiously but Nickolas does not wait to attack, perhaps of having met them before this he fights as if battling a deadly bounty. Out of love Ana battles, her touch doth not fatality as irreverently it dries them to brown bark. Nickolas proves that they can be killed. Not as small a second wave of Walnut nymphs slightly larger than the last emerge, Troy rides into flight as the trees begin a deadly nest, Merlin uses the power of an echo to send the wind away from him in all directions.

While they gather themselves the phoenix and Troy make clear from trees as their senses are deafened, the phoenix flies blind as its vision returns sharing the affliction with Troy. Ana takes one of the creatures by the throat in the commotion just before she is cut. The nymph cannot breathe as she takes its dagger and sets it afire before throwing it into the ground. A flame tries to slowly spread from the ground where the dagger is struck. A mightier group of soldiers emerge from the Ash trees, this time as nymphs they are as tall as Troy and their skin tougher still, and larger still are the nymphs from the Oak and are tall as Merlin. A few of them step forth with their fingers in the air or their palms forward to usher a growth of the moss and mist that does not so easily singe, outnumbered they stop their fighting with many spears pointing to them.

From behind the shoulders of others comes their margrave, a regal dryad warrior of frontier carrying a hollow spear wrapped in vines holding clench a sharp silver tear at its end. Nickolas from raze and separated throwing his sharpened knives is begrudgingly brought to them with bloody knuckles by wooden warriors with knives stuck or broken in their hardened skin.

Margrave: “Do not move fire gods.”

Merlin looks to Ana who shrugs then smirks symbolizing uncertainty, the dryads forcibly escorting Nickolas toss him to his knees before the others.

Ectra: “This one is already dead.”
Marcru: “He says that he is not with them.”
Margrave: “Is this the familiar Nickolas?”
/
Ana: “Pay up.”
Merlin: “I’ll have to owe you.”
/
Nickolas: “Perhaps I am, perhaps I am not, what is my consolation?”
Margrave: “You were forbidden trespass to the moss.”
Merlin: “Then should he not stand trial.”
Margrave: “That is where you are going.”

Through the forest of many short springs with spears at their heads, higher and more ethereal is the frost of morning having never left the waning day as the walk to fears of a carrion paragon of a raving maniac presiding over a dryad court.

The sky is falling and cloudy ceiling is lower, there is an abrupt disdain close to numb and inflexible spawning, the sound of breaking rock and tumbling gravel from the spirit of the fog. Despondent from abundant convenience, sitting amid the green pine, bleeding a thick coat of pitch sap, a mortised stronghold growing new boughs and burgeoning leaves of flourish, tenured and proscribed terror in autonomy, an awful lot and a Hamadryad. A judge king of nature known for silent subtle shadows in droves and boasting the amenities locals prefer including the rustic isolation of wilderness. Merlin begins seeking ways to evaluate destructive and powerful faculties in the most objective manner possible. The actuarial anxiety is sickness agleam anent a gallant slew of faces fiat and flagrant heath. The nymphs set in lieu of content climb trees as if strength were not relevant.

Hamadryad: “You stand at a court with several charges, a twelvemonth of unicorn terror remains portent by you.”
Merlin: “Where are we?”
Hamadryad: “Where the trees are poets and the saints were to dwell in their stone house.”
Nickolas: “I did not mean to disturb, they are unbeknownst to the import of this dilemma.”
Merlin: “We carry no charge of burden thee, what cause to this?”

Merlin looks around as if to mention the dangerous situation, but slowly turning as to count enemies and look for an exit, the hamadryad rises and walks toward him as they both keep partial focus on the sky. The nature king stops and looks to Nickolas.

Hamadryad: “He must pay the price of his churl machination lest his forsake the thrice.”

Nickolas struggles to resist being grasped by the guards on his arms as the hamadryad tilts the spear point to Merlin.

Hamadryad: “Thine vetoed sylvan.”
Ana: “What?”
Merlin: “We’ve killed their pet.”
Hamadryad: “More than a pet druid, an emissary now overset, missing of your mistake.”
Nick: “To be pore in meditation…!”
Ana: “…and of grief…”
Hamadryad: “To stand the test of time, the perennial heartbeat of the forest, the veins of reach to being leaf, too cold the sky!”
Nick: “Nourished by mother earth,” consolatory, “sated by the tears of the Valkyrie.”
Hamadryad: “…and what is earth exegete? Do you know wizard?”
Merlin: “I presume you want me to say Asgard…”
Hamadryad: “… o lo, the Aesir… guardians who are nowhere, and do nothing…”

The margrave looks to the east and then the west, a nod of affirmation to the guards and Nickolas is taken unto seizure.

Nick: “I’ll be fine, hasten thee to Vanogan or be viands.”

Nickolas poorly beseeches his beloved Ana as he is torn unequal by tethered yoke. The soldiers put vines about his arms, a pusillanimous growth that becomes an intrepid overgrowth, in the distance he lets out a scream as the vines begin to tear him into the swamp, and Merlin looks to the Hamadryad, breaking the angered stare with the forest king. Hamadryad tilts his head and listens to the air, the sound of Nickolas ends with his breath being crushed, falling into a ground of broken boughs, through branches and dying dry vines, pine and chestnut cones and burs and strewn leaves, which once had stood the mist, sand-buried and eaten by the roots of many ages.

With not a taste of stirring fog, steam and mist evade the skin of the Hamadryad, acclimate to the air, another dryad comes forthwith from the nearby tree to climb and watch the funerary embrace of Nickolas.

Hamadryad: “A voice in the mist wishes your death…”

Merlin grabs the spear of hamadryad with one hand and the other a blast of wind to push him back, with a heavy turn Merlin spins in a circle and wields the spear’s blade across the throat of the king.

Merlin slides across aback athwart the ground slalom as ice steppe, from above the phoenix and Troy the fire tamer shoot a flaming arrow to the ground next to Ana. With magic she raises a pillar flame and paints a circle in the air around her, with her hands outward her sides it blasts, burning bark stretching into the distance igniting several of her foes and dismounting others from their oversight in the limbs, an expanding circular wall of fire just as other adversaries are mired drying to arboreal anchors while the vanguard flame echoes into the evening lighting the way thru the trees. She is gone and running thru the scape before they can cope as reinforcements come from the distance and beneath the ground turning clod and moss.

In the distance she flees tearing a trail of cursed earth behind her as they close near, following the light the best of their hunters glide, pausing in stretching reaches for her but forced to move from tree to tree to tarry and gaining ground. Causing aversion in her pursuers Troy flies and pulls her into the air away from them, by locking hands upon arm she is lifted pursuant to the sky.

Ana: “Put me down, I cannot endure the overture of fire.”
Troy: “Are you certain?”

It is anything but certain as her eyes turn dullish, the color seems to fade as the bird exhausts a swooping tug of cold and earth pulls the phoenix, Ana displays a listless fever and signs of fainting and aphasia, a graceful tho slightly cumbersome landing the flailing dizzy Alerion, she dismounts then opens her eyes.

The whites of her eyes are burning sand around the black lines of her skin, she glows slightly thin in the dusking light, her fingernails so molten they could scrape steel as a thin layer of fire rolls from the back of her hands up her arms, and fire in her footsteps. As soldiers of earth’s growth approach the fearful phoenix shakes its head and takes again to flight. The closest soldier drives with hands forward to choke her but is split in two and turned to ashing embers, others suffering explosions of magic deposition, her hands with blasts she raises fearsome resistance and drives them to escape her torrid assault.

Merlin is desperate to leave the combat as he drifts over the underbrush, he holds the weapon he has stolen and uses it to cut at whips made of vine and pierce the hearts of his foes by driving them into trees, he must keep moving when not warring. Ana approaches what she hears in the distance attacking and destroying another batch of woodland nymphs to scare others into retreat, Merlin sees them catch and begin covering her with roots, and she blasts out of the enrapturing growth as he fends for himself. Merlin is striking what he can with lightning, from his free hand, from the silver spearhead, and when he pierces an enemy with it he strikes them from their core. He fights his way toward Ana, they dread her but hate and attack him, and after laying them low he takes to her aside and they begin running for dear life.

The wizard is alive anew with torn clothes as the magic of the lunar light embellishes him, swift over scene he sweeps pulling Ana behind himself a fiery tumult burning in the wind, but they are halted as they are surrounded. Merlin’s make is torn clothes and Ana clean but abashed, the Hamadryad stands before them with a strap around his neck, staring with angered eyes.

Ana: “Travail he in working with his hands, which is good.”
Merlin: “That he has whereof he shall give to needy.”

Merlin holds out his arm, the age told in the lines on his palm and a message by a frozen teardrop in his possession, rolling from his hand it falls to the ground, at the earth it begets a wave of white fire in all directions. The area is woven rigid and broken with bodies fallen to the blast, giving them both the chance to run again, beyond the power of the light in the dark recesses of the forest more nymphs follow to assault, but lo and beholden is a clearing to a field covered in moonlight.

Ana is reinvigorated to run but her wounds are filled with white light and she is struggling to continue, from their side she blasts a predator and continues paces from the forest line, while fleeing the dryads Merlin pulls her into the field as she is weak. They do not follow but throw spears at them both, tho wisely they are not looking behind their escape. In several moments they realize they are not being followed into the pasture, but the spears are still flying so they run again to further distance themselves, eventually stopping to see the little green men waiting by and crawling in the trees, some caterwauling and others without motion.

Ana: “Why did they halt?”
Merlin: “I don’t know, I’ve never had to run from one before, I can’t help but think he got us into something I could’ve calmed by word.”
Ana: “No, they wanted him dead already.”

Their respite besets a golden dale of wild grass in a moonlit pasture with the silence of the moon.

Ana: “I feel like piss, what was that spell?”
Merlin: “It eats at fiery spirits, and unfortunately the last one I had.”

There is deference to the night, the scribes of fate and the endless morrow, heard not more, as distance and darkness become eternally compelling fears that by sunders steps them on their make to refuge.

Caedmon's Hymn

2012-01-24T12:30:00.000-06:00

Now scaling here again heaven-reich's ward,
Majesty, might, and his wisdom,
Work elder-father so he under gives,
Each draft or after laid,
His first scope old [those who] live in barns,
Heaven to roof holy stems,
Then Midgard mankind's ward,
Each drafting after to-day,
For them in fold, free, almighty.

First sang Caedmon, this song.

// Cædmon (A.D. 658-680)
Cædmon's Hymn

1 Nu scylun hergan hefaenricaes uard
2 metudæs maecti end his modgidanc
3 uerc uuldurfadur sue he uundra gihuaes
4 eci dryctin or astelidæ
5 he aerist scop aelda barnum
6 heben til hrofe haleg scepen.
7 tha middungeard moncynnæs uard
8 eci dryctin æfter tiadæ
9 firum foldu frea allmectig

Primo cantauit Cædmon istud carmen.

The DNC logo

2012-01-12T09:25:00.000-06:00

Federalism Abject

2012-01-10T12:48:00.000-06:00

Federalism Abject: I was indirectly asked by some whiny liberal who said, "Is it crazy to ask fundamentalists to interpret the constitution as literally as they interpret the Bible?" (I prefer the word manic) so here I am giving it a go.

The Declaration of Independence

"In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people." Slavery is not allowed, tyrants are not people.

The Constitution of the United States

Constitution of the United States. Article 1 § 1 "All legislative Powers herein granted shall be vested in a Congress of the United States, which shall consist of a Senate and House of Representatives." Czars are unconstitutional.

Constitution of the United States. Article 1 § 2 "The actual Enumeration shall be made within three Years after the first Meeting of the Congress of the United States, and within every subsequent Term of ten Years, in such Manner as they shall by Law direct." Federal Subsidies to States must be reevaluated and resolved in less than ten year intervals.

Constitution of the United States. Article 1 § 5 "Each House shall be the Judge of the Elections, Returns and Qualifications of its own Members, and a Majority of each shall constitute a Quorum to do Business; but a smaller Number may adjourn from day to day, and may be authorized to compel the Attendance of absent Members, in such Manner, and under such Penalties as each House may provide." Allows a posse for the purpose of ending absenteeism and tardiness.

Constitution of the United States. Article 1 § 8 "To exercise exclusive Legislation in all Cases whatsoever, over such District (not exceeding ten Miles square) as may, by Cession of particular States, and the Acceptance of Congress, become the Seat of the Government of the United States, and to exercise like Authority over all Places purchased by the Consent of the Legislature of the State in which the Same shall be, for the Erection of Forts, Magazines, Arsenals, dock-Yards, and other needful Buildings." The Allowance of Eminent Domain.

Constitution of the United States. Article 1 § 8 "To make all Laws which shall be necessary and proper for carrying into Execution the foregoing Powers, and all other Powers vested by this Constitution in the Government of the United States, or in any Department or Officer thereof." The Allowance of Executive Order.

Constitution of the United States. Article 1 § 9 "The Migration or Importation of such Persons as any of the States now existing shall think proper to admit, shall not be prohibited by the Congress prior to the Year one thousand eight hundred and eight, but a Tax or duty may be imposed on such Importation, not exceeding ten dollars for each Person." Congress can permit restrictions on illegal immigration in a single or all states after year 1808 A.D., it may also fine individual states no more than $10 per illegal resident, per year.

Constitution of the United States. Article 1 § 9 "No Bill of Attainder or ex post facto Law shall be passed." #Obama-care and other mandates of purchase is and are unconstitutional.

Constitution of the United States. Article 1 § 9 "No Capitation, or other direct, Tax shall be laid" Federal purchase mandates are constitutional.

Constitution of the United States. Article 1 § 9 "No Preference shall be given by any Regulation of Commerce or Revenue to the Ports of one State over those of another; nor shall Vessels bound to, or from, one State, be obliged to enter, clear, or pay Duties in another." Relocation of business cannot be impugned or denied without violation of current law. (Boeing/NLRB 2011)

Constitution of the United States. Article 1 § 9 "No Title of Nobility shall be granted by the United States: And no Person holding any Office of Profit or Trust under them, shall, without the Consent of the Congress, accept of any present, Emolument, Office, or Title, of any kind whatever, from any King, Prince, or foreign State." Possible uncertainty is duly regarded to titles granted by fascist theocracies, as well as, the title of Czar granting privileges relegated unapproved is unconstitutional. See: Article 2 § 2.

Constitution of the United States. Article 1 § 10 "No state shall enter into any Treaty, Alliance, or Confederation; grant Letters of Marque and Reprisal; coin Money; emit Bills of Credit; make any Thing but gold and silver Coin a Tender in Payment of Debts; pass any Bill of Attainder, ex post facto Law, or Law impairing the Obligation of Contracts, or grant any Title of Nobility." The People of the United States are not required to recognize or give allegiance to any Entity foreign or domestic; Compulsory unionism is unconstitutional.

Constitution of the United States. Article 2 § 2 "He [POTUS] shall have Power, by and with the Advice and Consent of the Senate, to make Treaties, provided two thirds of the Senators present concur; and he shall nominate, and by and with the Advice and Consent of the Senate, shall appoint Ambassadors, other public Ministers and Consuls, Judges of the supreme Court, and all other Officers of the United States, whose Appointments are not herein otherwise provided for, and which shall be established by Law: but the Congress may by Law vest the Appointment of such inferior Officers, as they think proper, in the President alone, in the Courts of Law, or in the Heads of Departments." All appointments can be nominated by and must be given the consent of the Senate, even if it is in recess, if consent has not been attained during a recess of Congress the POTUS must wait until it reconvenes and condoning occurs; Congress can pick the candidates for these positions.

Constitution of the United States. Article 2 § 2 "The President shall have Power to fill up all Vacancies that may happen during the Recess of the Senate, by granting Commissions which shall expire at the End of their next Session." Open position of "inferior Officers" can be assigned a new employee by the POTUS during a recess of Congressional but only as the responsibilities of that individual until the end of the immediately next session, upon which time a new or renewed appointment must be made complicit to the required approval of the senate, as is the Law.

Constitution of the United States. Article 2 § 3 "He [POTUS] shall from time to time give to the Congress Information of the State of the Union, and recommend to their Consideration such Measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient; he may, on extraordinary Occasions, convene both Houses, or either of them, and in Case of Disagreement between them, with Respect to the Time of Adjournment, he may adjourn them to such Time as he shall think proper; he shall receive Ambassadors and other public Ministers; he shall take Care that the Laws be faithfully executed, and shall Commission all the Officers of the United States." The leader of the free world, is allowed any guest, has power of executive order, and is the commander in chief.

Constitution of the United States. Article 3 § 3 "The Trial of all Crimes, except in Cases of Impeachment, shall be by Jury; and such Trial shall be held in the State where the said Crimes shall have been committed; but when not committed within any State, the Trial shall be at such Place or Places as the Congress may by Law have directed." Detainees are culpable to the laws of their homlands which if they have broken are in contempt to those laws and applicable punishments, wherein not being citizens allows those crimes reflected as being properly dealt as they would elsewhere and not as US citizens, Habeas corpus is a patriot's luxury.

Constitution of the United States. Article 4 § 1 "Full Faith and Credit shall be given in each State to the public Acts, Records, and judicial Proceedings of every other State. And the Congress may by general Laws prescribe the Manner in which such Acts, Records and Proceedings shall be proved, and the Effect thereof." Citizens of the US must be able to attain their public records, or state organizations and entities, across state boundaries, interstate information internet. Example, when moving to Indiana from California, an existing driver should be able to transfer his/her records from a CA-DMV to the IN-BMV without necessity to request archived records as an individual, as both are state agencies, but one cannot. This is unconstitutional, and inconvenient.

Constitution of the United States. Article 4 § 4 "The United States shall guarantee to every State in this Union a Republican Form of Government, and shall protect each of them against Invasion; and on Application of the Legislature, or of the Executive (when the Legislature cannot be convened), against domestic Violence." No compulsory unionism, no protected castes, zero class-warfare.

Constitution of the United States. Article 5 "no State, without its Consent, shall be deprived of its equal Suffrage in the Senate." Representation is neither compulsory nor voluntary, it is your duty as leaders.

Constitution of the United States. Article 6 "All Debts contracted and Engagements entered into, before the Adoption of this Constitution, shall be as valid against the United States under this Constitution, as under the Confederation." We are all capitalists now.

Constitution of the United States. Article 6 "This Constitution, and the Laws of the United States which shall be made in Pursuance thereof; and all Treaties made, or which shall be made, under the Authority of the United States, shall be the supreme Law of the Land; and the Judges in every State shall be bound thereby, any Thing in the Constitution or Laws of any State to the Contrary notwithstanding." It is not recommended to commit treason or treachery against the US.

Constitution of the United States. Article 6 "The Senators and Representatives before mentioned, and the Members of the several State Legislatures, and all executive and judicial Officers, both of the United States and of the several States, shall be bound by Oath or Affirmation, to support this Constitution; but no religious Test shall ever be required as a Qualification to any Office or public Trust under the United States." Atheists can hold-office, religion is allowed in all forms of government relations, such as education, elected office, and emissary responsibilities - but is not mandatory.

The Bill of Rights (Amendments 1 - 10)

Amendment 1 "Congress shall make no law respectingan establishment of religion, orprohibiting the free exercise thereof; orabridging the freedom of speech, orof the press; or theright of the people peaceably to assemble, andto petition the Government for a redress of grievances." No state church. Freedom of religion anywhere. Freedom of speech anywhere in any format. Rational gatherings in irrational times are allowed. Freedom of religion includes not being mandated to insure and provide anything that contravenes the practices of faith, god willing they do not harm a living soul, such as the mandates of abortion, contraceptives, and sterilization, which ObamaCare violates alongside violating freedom of speech by having purchase mandates, a natural decision of citizens does not include a mandate of purchase by a fascist government. (Obama lectured by the constitution for many years, perhaps the anti slavery amendment, it was in Chicago, ...fool)

Amendment 2 "A well regulated Militia,being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of thepeople to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed." Allows armed forces and additional state militias in times of war or cartel conflicts, an absolute right to weaponry and guns.

Amendment 3 "No Soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, withoutthe consent of the Owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to beprescribed by law." No quarter.

Amendment 4 "The right of the peopleto be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, againstunreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and noWarrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath oraffirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, andthe persons or things to be seized." Privacy duly respected if without harm to others, due process policing with specific target and/or surgical strike.

Amendment 5 "No person shall be heldto answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on apresentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases arising inthe land or naval forces, or in the Militia, when in actual service intime of War or public danger; norshall any person be subject for the same offence to be twice put injeopardy of life or limb; norshall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness againsthimself, nor bedeprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property betaken for public use, without just compensation." Capital offenses are not the sole responsibility of disaffected private citizens nor 'infamous crimes' such as the wars of extinct populations and civilizations, persecutory racism is unjustifiable - unless a military trial or public endangerment of a militant representative. US doesn't allow double-jeopardy court cases, self-incrimination, theft, or fascist use of eminent domain privileges.

Amendment 6 "In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district whereinthe crime shall have been committed, which district shall have beenpreviously ascertained by law, andto be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with thewitnesses against him; tohave compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance ofCounsel for his defence." Citizens whom have not committed treason are due a swift public local trial in court with knowledge of who is pressing charges and incriminating witnesses, a defense council adamantly pursuing knowledge of the accusers insomuch just representation.

Amendment 7 "In Suits at common law,where the value in controversy shall exceed twenty dollars, the rightof trial by jury shall be preserved, and no fact tried by a jury, shallbe otherwise re-examined in any Court of the United States, thanaccording to the rules of the common law." if more than $20, you might have a jury trial, facts cannot be revisited and purposed to suit the whims of others, and are only cited, as is the law it/they cannot be given as fact to an irrelevant case.

Amendment 8 "Excessive bail shall notbe required, nor excessivefines imposed, nor crueland unusual punishments inflicted." Bail cannot by a complicit lean on the ability to pay a bail amount, though can be leveraged to limit mobility of danger, cruel and unusual punishment is morally weighted by the relative crime committed, as ethically measured can be equal in sentencing as the crime.

Amendment 9 "The enumeration in theConstitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny ordisparage others retained by the people." Protectionism is the likely factor of damage created by recklessness, one can breath if they do not suffocate others, one can work if it does not damage the institution, one can walk if not on the backs of the bruised. This is also known as the harm principle: the actions of individuals should only be limited to prevent harm to other individuals. The breadth of this contention is relegated by the prevalence and debate of, law.

Amendment 10 "The powers not delegatedto the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to theStates, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people." Similar to 9, if the free world does not consist of it then states have jurisdiction, pervasively all roles of freedom exist with the people and Not with any government entity.

Winding Star

2012-01-01T00:01:00.000-06:00

Merlin 2:23 “A New Day Yesterday”

2011-12-25T18:38:00.001-06:00

Merlin 2:23 “A New Day Yesterday”

A wit of the ages gives import to the obvious clues, the way footsteps trace the hallway through the door, how clean the wall is there at closer examination, and it surely isn’t the first secret chamber ever found. Glancing the ceiling and the craftwork with the groove in the ground where it slid over the years the façade is quite flawless, the old timber portrays as built against old millwork and stone foundation so much that it does not sound hollow when knocked nor budge with hearty stock, a depth of deceit yet to know. Merlin checks the wall with patient concern and finds to turn an old rusted mounting point for torches that a latch releases the lock and with his feet against the wall the door’s base swings inward enough to be slid aside itself. There is a small set of stairs the height of a child into a root cellar, an impressive collection of liturgy on chess and art, manuals of war and tactics, candles on old barrels between spears and pouches and bottles of powders and herbs, and a decent bed kept clean but the blankets not tucked, half the room with a woman’s touch the other half her bridegroom.

Where the headboard is supposed to be a fixture of crossbows and blades hangs, the bedposts are loose and hide cleverly secret daggers and the loose boards of the stairs reveal clothes with sprigs of rosemary in cedar drawers to mask the wool from moths. Aside the bed a small table holds a journal written in a cypher of numbers and letters such that only days are not encrypted, atop a wonderful sketch of a wife perhaps the artist’s. As usual does Merlin begin reading through the pages of the journal as Ana smells the herbs and smells the cork lids of perfume vials, he looks to her and waits for she to notice him, when doing so he uses his hand to allude to the book he reads, she looks around the chamber then snaps her fingers and the candles in the room ignite.

From abound they hear a sound that garners their attention, alarmed Ana makes a fist and forces the fire die as fast she can. To come in from the cold and barring the defenselessness of night Nickolas asks them within the castle for their protections to which they humbly oblige whilst Troy and phoenix Alerion survey the forest at dusk. Timid and wary the suspicious strangers from outside enter behind Nickolas who is looking for his book to enter prosody of calumny and shock.

Merlin: (asking Nick): “What are you doing?”
Dyved: “It was…we were…”
Geneva: “…just leaving o great ones.”
Merlin: “There was a war, a phoenix, and an ogre awoken from at least two score years smashing invalids and you’re still here?”

Nickolas lowers his small book before perusing or writing and looks to them also glancing upward to notice the superb majesty of a phoenix flying over them.

Merlin: “This is obviously your hideaway.”
Ana: “We mean peace upon you.”
Nickolas: “I reserve a candid suspicion.”
Merlin: “We’ve seen your bunker and mean you well, we’re merely going to make camp for a night and be gone by morn.”
Dyved: “I am Dyved of Samsara and this is Geneva, we thank you for your battle against the evil.”
Merlin: “That’s the spirit, come, help us build a fire out of this old lumber and we’ll talk about how you’re likely the king by now.”

The ceiling of the keep is open from time of disrepair and fires that dry the lumber burned on the fuel of the old milling machinery, it had been broken and used as fuel recently and is covered in pieces of the roof, the boards of the grinding wheel are still connected and the groove from the second wheel is still mostly filled with old flour that has long since molded and rotted into a fine black silt that covers various areas of the lumber and floor. After collecting firewood a gracious entrance of Troy as the majestic phoenix lands with a gust, he slides from the familiar spryly off the back of it and dusts his coat as Alerion sits on the large wheel on ashlar with a peevish squawk and they begin a fire where they share epistemological autonomic discussion and intellectual education. Troy has a slab of venison nearly as long as his arm, he takes it to a plank then carries it to Nick.

Troy: “Venison.”
Nick: “Is the rest outside?”
Troy: “No, I was going to leave it for the wolves not far off, but stubborn to leave it the bird decided to eat it, most actually.”

Dyved and Geneva are speechless by the sight of the phoenix, the meat, and the bird moreover again, dressed nicely they are starving and thin.

Merlin: “How long have you been here?”
Dyved: “More than 300 moons, it belonged to the duke Enoch who died in the raids in service of the kingdom. The raids ended living quietly and when the evil abroad came to assault we hid here.”
Merlin: “And the hidden room? It is so furnished.”
Geneva: “Enoch owned it in fealty.”
Dyved: “It has long been a secret meeting place destroyed only recently. Tell me wizard, what grants ye thine powers?”
Merlin: “You may call me Merlin young majesty, I reckon at most if not all we are cambions, half this or that. He is probably half Valkyrie for his bleeding but not dying.”
Nick: “How do you do.”
Dyved: “How do you do sir?”
Nick: “Hungry likely enough.”

Nickolas has finished cutting the meat into slices and is putting it on the ready fire, resting the pieces on the logs above and directly on coals, a sizzle sounds the air.

Merlin: “I am a bit of elven and Midgard and she is a mix of Muspel fire and Vanir.”
Dyved: “and him?”
Troy: “I am a man blessed with resurrection by the fires of darkness.”

Alerion touts a squawking and the travelers laugh as the refugees sit confuted, the phoenix in misapprehension is peckishly perturbed, in a fugue the bird quiets and the fire brightly rises whilst Nickolas jumps to his feet pulling a long dagger and stabs the steaks one by one from the flames. The bird returns to a dull sheen and sardonic dolor with eyes bluing. Still on his feet all the while Troy turns to look and approaches to comfort the phoenix as the band begin to eat.

Nick: “Tell that fowl I said go chase a sunset.”
Dyved: “Wherewithal by survivors are scourges of this land’s former strength, like wolves, to destroy through death, what is the name of our devil?”
Merlin: “Your faith in the almighty blessed be, the disorderly also trust to do what gods do and tremble, there is good in all of us and an evil in all of them, and for such we are their devils.”
Geneva: “We shan’t go to the temples to beseech the gods for fear of the heathens irreverent.”
Merlin: “Have you any wine tucked away?”
Dyved: “You’re in luck.”
Troy: “What was this place?”
Geneva: “A flour mill once upon a time.”
Dyved: “Four score and seven years.”

Dyved goes and fetches a bottle sliding the secret door closed behind him and throwing a handful of dirt over the path.

Ana: “Is it any good?”

He pulls out the cork with his teeth blowing the cork on the ground, takes a drink, and spits it at the fire that responds flashily. On this day turned night when these children of the gods come and reward themselves the blackguard shape-shifter demon has come near to speak with the witch of the mist, cautious of the darkness.

Mist: “Abandon your fears which would suffer unto thee, witness it thusly passing, and the wizard must put some of you to the underworld for trial, a transgression, of your liberal birth stay you the course and I won’t kill you.”
Dak-Clis: “I cannot fathom how thou art not yet spurned and disowned, you and your bright lord severed, as you have poison in the forest of the minds to the men of this realm.”
Mist: “If dissent were a wedge, we would corrupt ourselves, how now doth your kingdom stand?”
Dak-Clis: “The wizard Merlin has impugned my work; he has an earthly measure and has for the time bested me milady.”
Mist: “Thou art repulsive unto me, wherewith thy understanding my power divines thine memory seems an unbecoming impunity of these humans.”
Dak-Clis: “The devil that bested my soldiers, august of an insipid familiar, a phoenix, with his face of white leather kith to the wizard, I could not stand to taunt even wiles and whilst.”
Mist: “Bite your tongue, barring his faith delivers him, I am a much worse warden and I will not release you to the deep.”
Dak-Clis: “What will ye have me do milady?”
Mist: “I would have ye take these black diamonds to Pethuel, there is a school for war there where the Sherriff magistrate answers questions of wisdom and domestic qualms each morning. Wait in line with a question using these stones to lure him into privacy then supplant him. As before divide and conquer, and if you see the wizard, assume regency and kill him.”

One of the heathens of the melancholic horde seeks to be an opportunistic thief but his stomach is turned into a cursed knot followed by fatality as Mist vanishes in the cold of night by the fog on the ground in the bleak moonlight abandoning absolute darkness.

Merlin and the others rest around the fire still fading and the phoenix largely content sleeping with a mental serenade by their hale language. Merlin desires a better bastion to offer refuge but is not ashamed to be considered distinguished among men, knowing the things that most humans do not.

Dyved: “You had mentioned I should be king, from one of men to one of nothing, who will end this war?”
Merlin: “I am not lost in these dark times of all times, but the darkness hides from me.”
Troy: “For what way heretofore the darkness spills, they scatter and mire, we will bring order or justice.”
Ana: “The shadowy hearts, their black destructive souls, will kill you both without call.”
Merlin: “A forsaking we will make, in their heartless oblivion fearing our revelation, because their deeds were evil.”
Ana: “The fates would have us light the dark, is any whom has put a song inside our heart of hearts, and burn the fires of our souls without mercy in the face of the martyrs who would put you slaves of fear.”

The witch of the mist has listened and at once leaves into the night because the phoenix senses her. In unbelief of danger it drops its head back into sleep.

Merlin: “There is a snake in the grass, which is the foe and feral demon winnowing the sands of time.”

Merlin 2:22 “Patterns in the Ivy”

2011-12-25T00:03:00.001-06:00

Merlin 2:22 “Patterns in the Ivy”

Swift soldiers without uniforms pass through the trees mostly young with bedraggled chagrin, amongst them youth of fighting age and a few eldest strong and battle-ready dragging the rear, they are all showing signs of everyday combat. They travel toward two wagons adorning short boarded sides covered by burlap fabric behind a bench with driver beset a spotter both, and a transport of import guarded by perhaps a handful of sentinels walking on foot. Without cavalry or archers the forest children silently attack the small caravan of rakish thugs on a road against the trees aside a small hill, bloodshed ensues as two men from each wagon ambush and irrupt with crossbows and maces, with many wounds and no losses the children of the woods kill their enemies. For their result of the trap the wagons holds rusty pikes, crooked staves, some rope, and enough flat bread to feed half their ranks a single meal. They sit and eat quietly discussing their options as a deer happens upon them, in hunger they fell it and endure the setting sun. Elsewhere another small tribe of children teeming the hunt attack their enemies sitting at a campfire at night, first by arrows, lastly by daggers, brutish kids with facefills of muddy war paint, the same hunger that haunts them is nourished less civilized.

Merlin, Nickolas, and Ana are still on the trail toward the river or clearing they had destined.

Merlin: “Give me one of your blades.”
Nick: “I normally have more; there is at least one in the wagon of that fire wench.”
Ana: “What did you say?”
Nick: “…very funny.”
Merlin: “Did it look like this?”
Nick: “You shouldn’t take from me when I’m sleeping.”
Merlin: “I didn’t, it used magic and took it from you when you were awake, chin up. I’m going to find Troy now.”
Ana: “Good, I’m tired of mucking about in this mire.”
Merlin: “I’ll just balance it on its tip, and it will lean and fall toward him.”
Nick: “How do you know it works?”

Merlin balances the dagger and lets it fall, and then he looks the opposite direction.

Merlin: “Take it and throw it at that tree yonder there.”

Nickolas humors him and takes the blade as Merlin walks to a specific tree and points to it with an open hand, Nick throws the dagger at the tree but the blade falls short, the magic binding the knife will not let it thrust.

Merlin: “Now hang on to it but don’t throw it the other way, it might go twice as far and we’d have to hunt for it.”

Condemned and abandoned the children do not speak much keeping their movements in the night until dawn and sleeping in the quaint warmth of daylight, both ragged hunting parties through county Samsara and beyond, and move they into contact of the other on this next night where they plan a coup of another campsite larger than the priors. At dawn they siege the fresh encampment taking loses and are forced to fall back, two from their victimized enemies follow the marauding children into the forest.

They are swift and lean trackers silent in the night and long in the eye during the day, following them to their first camp stead, one returns to report the whereabouts while the other reconnoiters. Through the woods leaving a system of unrelenting return and markings on trees the scout returns to his masters.

A smallish ring tent waits in a glen as soldiers near it attend seething pots at two distinct fires while the tent curtain opens to reveal a small firelight within, from it exeunt a woman in a fur coat flush around her neck as long as her feet and a blackguard man with pricey armor, that of a hunter and not battler, she points to the ground beside her and he kneels looking to her obsequiously. She lifts her foot from the dirty ground and steps on his knee revealing a plethora of tattoos and not much else beneath her posh robe, she slaps him without saying a word and he does not reply as he ties her boot secure then the other.

Scout: “We’ve been hit again, but we’ve found them, perhaps the last, half a days’ ride by my mark and another tracker marking them anon.”
Dak: (Blackguard) “We will ride on them and end this, we ride!”
Warlord Tatiana: “Cower and hold your tongue, enough nonsense, take every scout and kill them while they sleep.”
Dak: “How doth your bidding effect?”
Tatiana: “We have lost too oft, and must keep our numbers in horses. We will return to the castle, these are more than games and I need more than my toys.”

She grabs him by the throat and kisses him, wrapping her bare leg around his side from her coat.

Tatiana: “Make this camp without us and head our homestead, we prepare a trap of war.”

The scouting children having sighted their next target run through the woods toward the sign of distant fire in a field, their slaughter in the dawn will be swiftest, new light and exhaustion of night an attack of disparaging atrocity occurs and blood spills, the arrows of the enemy scouts wound many and kill none, without enough arrows they move to strike fatality. The swords clash and weapons gash as heroes and harbingers are murdered in the new day, there are more in the encampment than insurgents, the blood spatters into the fires and battlers are burned, children launch arrows or dash from hiding in the tall grass at the villains each time they claim emolument. As a rite of passage when the scouts are all dead the oldest boys hack an arm of their foes and drink the blood like a sack of wine whilst it has life, afterwards they cut strips of meat for putting on the hot coals of the fire for the starving young to eat.

Far along the forest line in these same fields Merlin emerges with his friends, looking skyward and outbound, searching for Troy and the phoenix Alerion, the skies are blue, the leaves are gold, and in the distance the field is bloody red.

Ana: “Where do you suppose he is?”
Nick: “He’s abandoned us…”
Merlin: “Nonsense, he’s gone to fetch us breakfast, or at the river, or at some entirely inconvenient danger.”
Nick: “No reason to seem chipper chap.”
Merlin: “I suppose I’ll endeavor to fetch what scurries.”
Ana: “People, there, a high fire in the distance.”
Nick: “Should I take the lead?”
Ana: “We thought you’d never ask…how kind.”

Nickolas smiles with cynical amusement as he moves into the grass, he is swift and keeps low and lowest as they look over the grassland, but he is not stealthy among the children of the field, he is found by many little ones with knives and sees the camp leader approaching with a spear from the savage carnage.

Nick: “…Merlin!?”

Merlin approaches from the field with one hand in the air, Ana walks beside him with both her arms behind her, and they are emissaries of utter mystery.

Merlin: “Hello? Hello! It seems you’ve found my friend, we are in search of another, and he is much ado piloting a large animal bird and we were wondering…”
Nick: “There are bodies here.”
Merlin: “You’ll have to forgive my clumsy companion…he’s frightful and detests violence…”

Merlin puts his hand into the air again, without stopping he blinks and a blast of wind, light, and sound, echoes from his raised arm, he does not slow as the force momentarily stops Ana in her tracks as she bows her head, the momentum is so strong it shocks the campfire and knocks everyone else to the ground, the grass is windblown sideways and no longer hides children. Nickolas stands and kicks a child in the bottom to push it toward the others as he grabs his knife.

Nick: “Now, instead of showing me, you can tell us what happened.”
Merlin: “I’ve killed more people than natural causes, forsaking time until fate cowers, and hell as my witness, antiheroes, until all are free!”

The children dive at his feet and hold his ankles, many all small, terrified by fear of a black terror.

Child: “You are a wizard o great, save us from a terror elder one.”
Ana: “We have found a terror with you.”
Child: “They are the first of a dirge for our survival, you must help us.”

The child is desperate and crying, too scared to tell lies as more children come to hold him to the earth. The young warriors hardened by plight mimic their leader and kneel upon knee, throwing their weapons into the bent grass then putting their hands on the earth before them, sacrosanct and sacrificial, except for the leader who does not put down his hands.

Keith: “We are survivors but our elders are not, from village to town a tribe from the sunset distance seeks to kill the children of the corn, save us and we will be forever grateful.”

Ana walks to one of the wounded, she takes her blade and stabs one of the dead, and she smears the blood of the deceased into the wound to wash the dirt of the dirty soldier’s hands. She holds her hand into the air holds a flame and heats the blade then cauterizes the wound. Merlin looks to Nickolas for advice.

Merlin: “What do you think?”

Other children jump for Nickolas’s feet and begin hugging his legs, which he pushes aside and walks to Merlin.

Nickolas: “Do we fight armies?”
Keith: “It is not an army; our parents and we constituted the army. They are the people gone mad. For a season clans have formed, they killed our elders, then all the nobles and any rune of faith. The clergy that did not submit were crucified, and eventually those who swore allegiance were made to join them.”
Ken: “We are forbidden even silent prayers to our silent gods. Do they have a word for this from whence you came?”
Ana: “Genocide, but I’m sure it’s a typical evil…”
Merlin: “Will you join us old boy?”
Nick: “What makes you think she’s even going?”
Ana: “I’m going. Their game doesn’t hold a candle.”
Nick: “Sure why not, if caught it’ll take years to escape.”
Merlin: “Before counting heads, we’re going to need good maps.”

The encampment of the regulars is sheik and ready to move of a moment’s notice, and are ready for malice aforethought. Those too wounded to ride or run rest on stretchers attached to horses with a bow by their side. There are fires burning as most rest, a few train or sharpen weapons, and there are many gathered, around them the ivy grows strong with bright green leaves at the end of vines and the floor sparsely littered with the black stems of flowers they had eaten, in all there are as many fighters as discarded black leaves on the floor.

Keith: “Come, I will conceal nothing from you. These are our old lines, and this is the line we hold now, against their stronghold somewhere here. You found us strike the last garrison. We are gathered to strike as soon as morning, except for those who have fled.”
Yeadon: “Keith and Ken, we’ve been found out, we’ve killed scouts to find there are many more.”
Nick: “How many more?”
Yeadon: “…”
Keith: “They’re with me.”
Yeadon: “By seem at twice as we.”

Yeadon still catches the last of his breath as the forest troops begin to rally forth, Merlin weaves his fingers and stretches his palms above his head, his knuckles crack as he stretches his chest, and awhile Nickolas stretches his neck by tilting his head one side unto the other and his knuckles in clenched fists.

Keith: “How soon are they here?”
Yeadon: “Thirty verses at most.”
Keith: “We ride on them now or never again!”
Merlin: “Malarkey! We need a plan, I’ll talk to them and you fight them from the trees as you have.”
Ken: “Well that’s just a plain idea.”
Merlin: “An ethereal plane.”

A rainy day misery begins to shroud the small fires, Merlin holds in his hand a glass ball that begins to shine, from above a loud squawk from the phoenix lets into the air. Merlin tosses the orb to Ana with the glass visibly red hot she catches it and wields the fire cooling the orb.

Merlin: “That’s our friend we were tracking. Not to be alarmed, please don’t attack when he lands!”

With gasps of the soldiers Troy lands next to a fire allowing the phoenix to eat the embers, as soldiers not clasping weapons hide behind trees.

Troy: “I’ve been wondering if you were down here for a day. Did you know there’s a rugged army heading this way?”
Merlin: “…we’re going to battle now…”
Troy: “Battle?”
Nick: “What happened to meeting us in the pasture?”
Troy: “I thought you said river, oddly if I wanted in it I would’ve had to jump, the bird wouldn’t land, so I turned back.”
Merlin: “It is time to march.”

The troops are reinvigorated yet aversive, suspicious of the magic that they follow to their last battle or first of many, the sky struggles to be blue through the clouds and the day-moon. With the wounded behind them at camp they arrive at the edge of the forest, as foretold an army stands to greet them at the edge of a muddy field.

The tattooed woman completely covered with thin lines and her reddish king stand behind a formidable showing, a dark dress the colors of blood and gauche jewelry drinking black wine from an ornate golden palm goblet. Every soldier of the black army wears armor and jewelry touting the weapons of the innocent they have raided over the past seasons, gold chains and crowns, rings and gauntlets of silver, salvers melted into gaudy shields, evil agendas brood and interlay.

Ana: “How many are there Troy?”
Troy: “Twice as many.”
Merlin: “I’m going to have a word.”

A parliament in the woods and darkness at noon, the evil tribe to greet them is a mixture of the worst from seven realms and five wars, led foremost by the blackguard in armor piqued by red scales and the tattooed priestess.

Tatiana: “…friends with an army?”
Dak: “I once was…and now am not…but with this I will amass a great tributary of life.”
Tatiana: “The ink still shining on the page.”
Dak: “Carrion angel.”

Long sought for liberty or death the army of youth stands at the forest watching the decadent power mad and thirsty for a coup.

Merlin: “Troy, make an entrance mid field.”

Troy and the phoenix bolt into flight, spiraling into the air, fantastical they swoop over the encroaching frontline and the forest line, then slams into the muddy midfield, it plummets to the ground landing with the sound of vaulted pillars and thrown stones, letting a terrible squall of howling fervency, the phoenix steps once or twice timid of the tides of war.

Troy: “You will stay and wait or run from the wizard.”
/
Nick: “He’s quite good at that.”

Ana hits Nickolas in the arm then crosses her arms as she looks to the fearful boys standing in wait. Merlin flipping through tarot cards puts them in his sleeve and walks into the clearing, all are quiet and fearful from the forest as their enemies begin grunting while grinding teeth and blade, eager to battle the phoenix and fueled by ignorance.

Merlin walks passed the phoenix, slapping it on the shoulder a couple of times, letting the powder touch his hands. He walks to a stone’s throw from the enemy line. The tattooed priestess stands on her carriage and shouts to the other side, and Merlin.

Tatiana: “Cambion, demigod of mortality, the word is the truth and only truth; no blade can turn from I.”
Merlin: “The blood you sought was the blood of your divination, but the truth will be that you were fooled by your fears.”

The ground dries beneath the phoenix and the rain lessens soigné they gather toward Merlin.

Dak: “Loyalists taking ear, hear me now, this threat, we will not tolerate less than your devotion to the revolution.”

The tattooed woman stands and puts her hand on the blackguard’s shoulder, causing him to step aside.

Tatiana: “I need to know, that if necessary you will die for me.”
Merlin: “I will, and I have brought a tithing.”

Merlin holding his arm close to him places his other hand over the first to unveil the glass sphere in his palm, its effulgence is low but steadily growing in strength, he holds the crystal ball forward and moves toward the army, they begin anxiety and when his brinksmanship tenders impatient limit the glass explodes with power and light, two dozen wounded or dead a battle properly begins. Tatiana points to the woods with a sign of disgust on her face, as the mercenaries charge toward the trees. The ink on her fingers seems to swirl in coquetry while the flesh of the dreamer becomes a course bark bitterly dismal of distaste Dak moves into battle abandoning his futurist.

Dak: “My dark flower, remain here not pruned.”

Watching the phoenix take to flight when the battle ensues, Dak moves toward Merlin destined to strike him dead, eternal regret beyond loveless forbidden reservation and austerity he draws the hateful legion aback the trees. Acquiring as much purity as regret the forest legion charges to support the wizard, the decaying sedge floor mid the rushes amid wind quickly turns to mud beneath the trodden common curious file, but the wind still blows over their vulgarity horde covered with tattoos, carrying the phoenix who quickly turns and grabs an enemy in its talons, too heavy to carry far the body is dropped on the cavalry of evil men, when it grabs another it does not bode well for the assailants, those who slash the phoenix without permanent effect serve to insult it, it drops the soldier with talons having been put through to grab the others instead, a dangerous fire pet hitting enemies with molt armor.

The villains reach for Troy and pull him down from saddle, but he grabs the harness of Alerion and they retreat into the air, his weight on the wing it turns midair, with him giving them an obscene gesture. The sinister mercenaries watch him begin the fatal catch and release in another edge of the field, again slowed by weight he begins to run the aerial cavalry combat, begrudging they make their way for revenge.

The wicked minds of godless heathens are tomes stocked with ranks of nomenclature, vulgar insults which they shout at the heroes. It only serves to remind them who they are killing with precision in silent wroth. A trodden muddy pasture abuts the sky, ruthlessly trampled bare by many a down-trodden soldier, brazen without the sense the infantry turn to the phoenix, indurate talons lift anew from the murky muck and flies to Merlin across the front, he volleys scores of winds that burn around the phoenix and rider as a fiery wind, an exhaustion of fire magic for them both that quickly ends, the bird flies from Merlin as if it were assaulted bursar, the wings open and push a final gust of hot sand at their enemies.

Nickolas flanks as a doppelganger and repudiates their defenses with terror, once slain and raised by the same inability to remain dead that Tatiana had prophesied, to deathly wound their evil blood of their veins until he is stuck by a spear like a wild boar, body and limbs, and then the body several times again. Ana immolates the boughs and hedgerows despite the dampening mire of the humid fog and drizzle from the Samsara Forest. She pauses with grief for her lover before remembering his penchant mortality and continues her desecration of enemies swift but often discourteously, from within the trees having made her way to the forest edge, Troy nearby assists her with a slaying by crushing a foe.

Troy: “You’re welcome.”
Ana: “Save them in the forest.”

Troy looks back at a war field half dead and takes to flight. She proceeds to the field of battle, from her pocket she pulls a flask and takes a drink then spits fire at her foes, their attention taken she unveils a whip and unfurls it, running it through her had it becomes fire and her weapon for the living and the dying low, where her enemies come close to her she does not hesitate to stab them in the throat or where men most hate being wounded, the heart.

Merlin watches the woman of tattoos play with her already wounded prey. With a luminary telepathy she knows their next move but wastes time with more ceremony than slaughter. He stares withal of contention for the soldiers clumsily throwing each conflict, she walks around them cutting them down, a belt is cut and one bows into a blade, for the next a ballet of blades alternating twixt legs and arms at the sinew tendons until the sad young soldier cannot stand nor hold arms as his throat is slit, not an eye pores Merlin or the soldier attacking from behind her who takes a blade to his tongue in cheek and another to throat, the spray of blood blinds another soldier who is double handedly thrust through the heart only after the first blade is thrown into the brow of the man behind him. With lust of contempt their weapons are gifts given to her and used against them. A morose heartache startles Merlin from nonplus and he takes a bow and arrow from a dead man and shoots at her, she steps clear of the shot without seeing it launch and looks to Merlin. The wizard fears death at that sultrily bellicose moment, with two more arrows from a fallen comrade he looks to Nickolas cringing and screaming beneath lance and pike,

Merlin shoots and kills one about to behead his ally and another anent, awhile Tatiana approaches new victims with an aberrant smile and abetting stare. Three remaining soldiers skewering Nick begin screaming as they run to Merlin that he sends flying with a blast of air.

Merlin: “When you wake I need you to dance with the devil.”

Merlin looks to Tatiana and back to Nickolas who closes his eyes, though the gruesomeness the battle for whichever primal chase is clashing in the forest, the field of the dying is abandoned as he moves into the trees where unbalanced battles ensconce a violent insurrection.

Dak through pure brutality has a face covered in blood, twice this day the blood of his allies in furor, but he paces beyond the clearing in the underbrush weary of Merlin. Ana battles diligently as a maven of forcible peach, reproach or exception, with each cry that she hears she runs toward it to help the children escape; she battles with the discarded heat of the sunlight, using ash and embers often of explosion.

Kneeling on the ground in scandalous attire Tatiana washes her face with the blood of heroes as Nick arises, his armor has holes of bore and pierce, she picks two knives ready to hammer the blades into his eyes, a leaderless confrontation she does not walk a straight line, her path winds to the side in silence and sedition, confident her wiles are the whims of battle he hurls a knife at her, cutting her arm wistfully barely. She screams and charges him over body swiftly barefoot running across bodies until heavy to his tumultuous threat, stealth of all skill she is faster than he and the quick battle ends as her many others, again the silence embraces him as he lay quietly dying and singing blood. The patronage of manna or the ability to kill only his mortality his immortality acquiesce he counts her measure, with a blade in her chest and bathed in blood she falls in the mud.

Dak watched and now feigns indignant pain and remorse walking to Nickolas standing over the body. Nick runs into the trees but avoiding stragglers throws another dagger, this time at Dak. The blade lands in his neck, but pain is not on display has he pulls the throwing knife and snaps it in two with his bare hands while giving a growl from a loud whisper, Nickolas dismisses the priority of conflict for justice in the forest defilade, but Dak does not follow. He stoops to comfort Tatiana on the ground, she has propped herself against the dead and slut her wrists, she dies in earths final embrace with Dak intentionally beyond her dying grasp.

She rests eternal in the autumn sun, outdoors before a fire, as the wild dogs contently feast, the forest full of disaggregate victors playing waylaid deceit as Dak kneels over Tatiana. He looks over her rakish form and puts his hand to her face, smearing the drying blood with his touch. Looking over her he sees a bracelet on her wrist that he strips from her forearm, he holds it in his fingers if to adore it, and then suddenly with anger on his face he breaks the armlet within the power of his fist, the crippled shattering pieces fall from his hand beside her soulless kinship. He thus closes her eyes and opens his to the dagger, tho dead her body is warm and slightly fogs, having seen her killer he seeks to study the weapon, he pulls it from her chest and studies the quality tool.

Dak: “What seeks to hollow repletion leaves a dagger such as this that is not mad or evil?”

To this locus arrive two soldiers from the distance, in their minds fine warriors of a terror that is to them a revolt of reason, their tyranny had been led by Tatiana without true knowledge of Dak, to which they demanded ignorance of anything but needless conflict, and in their eyes commander Dak has committed treason, anxious that their Volva is dead and taken a successful campaign with her to the grave.

Amicus: “He’s killed the volva.”
Clis: “Than we shall kill him for justice and take his rank.”

Clis fires an arrow at Dak, it misses and strikes the ground next to him, he looks over his shoulder and darts toward the trees escaping a second shot from Amicus, they launch two more arrows each at him but they miss again as he moves fast as if chasing a deathblow and not escaping one. Into the forest they pursue as the sky begins enshrouding the light. Dak hides in the shadows, waiting and stalking, he doth not stop to hector the soldiers hunting him, and in silence he crushes the throat of Clis and impatiently breaks his neck.

This sacrifice signifies imitation conception, what would an alchemist playact a new form for Dak is a Draugur, using a type of black magic called trollskap he changes shape in body and face as he becomes the imposter of his victim. He takes the undamaged pieces of armor from Clis and begins to hunt the other as silent as before.

Amicus: “What happened to you, and what happened to your face?”

Veracity of the scar without sophistry Dak the Draugur mangles Amicus, just as he had the other as quiet as prior. Dak, the knight errant, has become an arrant knave without nature’s approval, abandoning the bloody pit of horror he has helped create.

Alerion attacks and tears an enemy by landing, Troy jousts each swift foe that are torn down by children and distraction. Elsewhere Merlin blasts fools with marks in the volatile soil, the magic is simple and costs him more time than health, a price that shades the stubble on his face grey as others are annihilated by his alchemical mastery, a nut turned into a bomb for shrapnel if close enough is trapped by his enemies’ armor if placed properly to shred them contained. Erstwhile puerile evil complicity wilding an innocent woman Ana watches a moment as the victim sees her, she drops her weapons and her eyes turn redder than that which can be most red, her hands begin to wash of fire, the deviants attack her all but one, just as Merlin approaches. He watches them run to Ana before grabbing the miscreant by his collar and taking his manhood from him, with a howl of pain the ravens laugh, she walks to him slowly, the villains are dead, they have fallen dead aside her path of aguish heatstroke bodies, thru them she is not concerned.

Ana: “Stand him up!”

There are not words for pure massacre, she opens the wound then draws the blade only to slit his throat. Clutching a green dress the naïve girl kicks and breaks the dead man’s face giving a scream of regressive anger, then spitting on it.

Ana: “…we do not let them live…”
Merlin: “I thought you wanted a piece of him?”
Ana: “Shut up Merlin, get up strumpet, go and find a man of god.”
Merlin: “This is why you don’t talk to strangers.”
Ana: “Only to let you think it’s your idea.”

Ana squats next to the broken boy and begins poking him in the eyes and other painful vulnerabilities while the mind is still with the body, torture duly until death. The fragile ginger-haired girl runs toward the sound of swords.

Then there is Nickolas, looking for support while encircled by enemies, swords and spears, torches with fiery ashes flying where knives do not maim, an interwoven defilement, to those with earned title to prescient death, forsooth the burning horizon the scope may newly be drained of blood and milled anew a swifter victory with Nickolas as their captive, and the gatherers’ greed for wealth a gift to their augur Tatiana, whom they know not has died. The dilettantes enjoy true delusions in grandeur built for redolence and high esteems. Waving their weapons and fire at Nick they turn argumentative about the right to claim credit for his capture, at the drop of a hat he fights nine soldiers, young and strongly old, taking some cuts and only one spear to his back. Formative of exposed vitality levied through his skin by some spear by his combatants, he has had enough and puts his anger to the test, in a quest for battle’s absolution with death as an illusion he cries havoc in anger such as war could only excite.

Merlin and Ana approach from the distance to assist, hastily approaching they watch him defeat the final four as if it is a simple ceremony of bone and blood, he looks to them approaching with a smile on his face. Standing near him he falls to his knees and then on his chest and looks across the forest floor as if it is a wall.

Nick: “Being your friend is murder.”
Merlin: “The fortune is no doubt a suitable reward.”
Nick: “What is that love?”
Ana: “Is what strapper?”
Nick: “…anon a foolish castle…”
Merlin: “…deliver us…”
Nick: “No, look where I look. I’m some drunken guide?”

Sure enough a castle of disrepair peeks over the horizon far into the fare of trees, upon approach it is an old chaplain hall turned grist mill, abandoned for many years there are new tracks near the entrance. Wary of raucous they stalk in shadows to seek the roots of evils and atrocities, sunken haunting and silhouettes with gauche tapestries caked in dust and collecting further debris from the broken windows and many holes in the roof beneath the darkness only broken by the few random beams of light owed to the undulation of whispers. Small desiccate trees grow through the cracks next to massive roots from the trees outside, among stone and cobweb interior is a palatial quarters filled with blood velvet rugs and rancor adorned with golden cordon and lace much unlike the forgotten outer chambers, strewn lighted candles of black and white flames and scattered crystals taken from abound the surface of the earth, all behind a secret door.

An ulterior murdering efficiency of swift candor as opposed to brawn is vaulting spears into the phoenix, bruising when uncaught, and ecumenist mendacity for an interdiction that had not occurred, several tyrants in rampancy taunt hostages as Troy lands to do battle. In the trees enemies lynch him from his phoenix, jumping to hoist him, Alerion clamps it’s beak on the ankle of the roper and flings him into the distance, with the acumen of a bird with a simple leap another foe in the tree does not bode well, a hefty peck and release dropping a bloody dead body to the ground.

The earth trembles beneath the soldiers who want the phoenix and rider for their own, they scream and wave their hands as if insult to the quaking below their feet that neither they, nor the phoenix, nor Troy had set to cause.

Through the stratified layers of leaves from seasons of winters and walking feet a fierce ogre rises from the soil, large and stoic fast by size but laggard in ways the creature from the earth beats the evil nomads with a piece of an old tree petrified white with age, and when they are dead or running away it slightly bows its head to the phoenix and falls to the ground oafish. As Nickolas approaches in the haze of shallow sunlight remaining, at every notice staring thus, the ogre decides to close its eyes and return to sleep, it snuggles the forest floor briefly until comfortable shaking even more leaves a deciduous blanket of red foliage from the trees as it does.

Merlin: “See how well things are when we’re left alone?”
Ana: “Of all my days I’d never expect to see that, what could it be?”
Merlin: “That, is an ogre. Probably builder of this place ages ago. Troy, come inside through the roof. Nickolas, check the perimeter and then come inside to investigate, we’re staying the night.”

The ogre peaks from one at to look at Merlin, with a sigh it closes again when Merlin smiles as he gestures his hand to hail before walking into the castle. Nickolas walks around the old stone millhouse until finding the couple who were captive obliviously arguing the dangers of their plotted way into the old mill.

...

what the fuck just happened?

2011-12-24T13:45:00.002-06:00

wtf...

So I got this letter, in my email, regarding a repost at colonialserf, i think the entire thing is ridiculous, yet it states that i have caused defamation of character, there's always the possibility that terrorists want it down because it ties them to Jews....and we couldn't be having that could we....(sarcasm), the odd part is, the article isn't there, there's literally only a link to the article, which my halfassed notification below states has been deleted from Hareetz through legal proceedings, and any mention of their client is non existent by my previous actions. Though I have protected their client's anonymity, they have not, this also means that the lawyers involved are completely incompetent, and the format of official communique is deleterious.

I wont be taking it down, in the interest of America's freedom of the press laws, in respects and regard to the article being written as either an Opinion article or an Op/Ed (opposite the editorial) and needs not facts at all, with the addition to their client so clumsily afforded by them in a litigious haphazard attempt. I have immunity through expressed sovereignty and i'm going to use it. By the bye, I would like to wish the Jews and Muslims, a MERRY CHRISTMAS, you pinkos are the only ones still fighting for what the rest of the world already has, you are a tragedy of dignity and self-respect.

GO FUCK YOURSELVES

MJ Banks

Colonial serf, Fourth Estate

p.s.

where they put,

"was removed, in their entirety"

should read,

'was removed, in its entirety'

---------------------------------------------------------

k yg

keren.yalon@gmail.com

Dec 20 (5 days ago)

to me

MOSHE KAHN ADVOCATESMoshe Kahn, Advocate, Attorney at Law (NY) Beeri Raz, Advocate, Attorney at Law (NY) Uri Milshtein, Advocate Yair Green,Advocate Moran Mor, AdvocateAmerica House 35 Shaul Hamelech Blvd. Tel - Aviv 61333 IsraelTel. +97236914775 Fax +97236914706 Email: office@kahn.co.il Website: www.kahn.co.il December 20, 2011Mr. Matthew J. BanksColonial Serf LogVIA E-MAIL Re: Libelous Publication Regarding Global CST and Mr. Israel Ziv on Colonial Serf Log Dear Mr. Banks, This letter has been re-formatted into Plain Text so that we may reach you.On behalf of our clients, Global CST and Mr. Israel Ziv, we would like to refer you to the following: 1. You have cited an article containing libelous content which was previously published by the Israeli newspaper Haaretz, titled "Why does Israel have links to a breakaway state supported by Hamas?" on your blog (http://colonialserf.blogspot.com/2011/05/why-does-israel-have-links-to-breakaway.html and at http://colonialserf.blogspot.com/2011_05_01_archive.html) 2. As part of an out of court settlement agreement reached between Global CST, Mr. Ziv and Haaretz, this article was removed, in their entirety, from Haaretz's website. 3. Since the article, containing libelous content, has been entirely deleted by Haaretz, we request that you remove the article titled "Why does Israel have links to a breakaway state supported by Hamas?" by Yossi Melman and its content as well as any links, direct or indirect references to our clients, from your website.4. We would also like to emphasize that relying on an article containing libelous content published by a third party does not constitute a legal defense, especially in the case where it was removed by its originator. 5. Furthermore, we would also like to mention that the publication of this article containing libelous content has caused, and continues to cause, unwarranted severe economic and reputational damage to our clients.6. In the event that our request as set forth in Section 3 above will not be fulfilled within 5 days of the date of this letter, our clients will pursue the legal actions and remedies available to them under any applicable law and jurisdiction, including without limitation the initiation of legal proceedings by local counsel in the competent courts of law in the United States.7. Nothing in the above shall exhaust the claims and actions of our clients and/or constitute an admission and/or waiver of any claim and/or demand whatsoever and/or waiver of any remedy and/or relief available to them and they reserve all of their rights under any law.Sincerely,Moshe Kahn, Adv.

Intransitive Deployment

2011-12-11T09:52:00.000-06:00

"For our second paper (1000 words) youwill do research on the use of open source software such as Linux ina culture that is unfamiliar to you. This could be a unfamiliarcountry or a social group your are unfamiliar with in your own country. Examples might the adoption of Open Office by thegovernment of Singapore or the use of Linux in Russian non-profits.Make sure to talk about the following issues

Why did this organization/group adopt open source software?
Have they continued to use it, if so what did or did not go well?
What changes needed to be made to either the software or the organization and how did they manage these?

The purpose of this paper is to look athow new software is adopted in a organization or a group, and whatopen source software offers as opportunities and costs. Make sure to look at the reasons they picked the software and what problems they encountered adopting the program. Usually the adoption of new software comes with a few issues that may or may not be planned for like training costs and time."

What follows is the rough draft which i submitted as complete, Word-2010 was my real-time editor, here is what i wrote in two hours the night before it was due, a historical-nerd-fiction:

Linux: A Deployment in Foreign Markets
M. J. Banks
CINT 108 Linux Fundamentals
Fall, 2011
Instructor: ##
December 10, 2011

Using the experience of Fedora and its open source availability, feeling ushered toward the communal development of the software, the skillset to administer the operating system successfully was achieved, and later the skills to be administrator for network topologies. My ambitions grew commercial and an accounting program was developed for my system to track and calculate proceeds from a ski resort, after having success I decided to market my version of the software and make it proprietary, I called it SKIBUM. Further my ambitions have grown, initially the software did not sell but the opportunity has arisen to implement and expand in a community in the southern Patagonia region of Argentina. The skiing industry is booming during august and I decided to take advantage of the situation and implement my design for their resort system, but the major drawback was that the local language is Cymric (Welsh).

As I do not speak the language of Chubut, Argentina, I was forced to hire a technician from the area to help me with their transition from analog to digital, which did not go well when I was there and ill-fated when I was not. Their original intent was met quite fortunate after discovering my system through word of mouth, met with the fact that it did was not free they soon lost interest, having seen it work successfully in my corner of the world they asked if there would be development of the software into Welsh, of which they and I hoped, it successively did not garner attention for two years. SKIBUM received periodic updates and redesigns over the next year or so, no longer under my development but by a team of developers funded by the profits it helped and continues to procure for me and my resort operations where English is the desired language, further demand proved in successfully opening it to other markets with larger populations utilizing foreign languages.

The Patagonian towns were still not willing to pay for permanent language and specified technical support nor had they found investors willing to redesign the intricate desktop interface that they increasingly desired, not willing to take the financial loss to my return on investment, I decided to do the next best thing, what I might have done firstly to expedite their woes, I decided to release SKIBUM under an open source license while still retaining the patents for myself. Instead of selling the rights and moving to other interests, I had found it free and it could be for others, the community had embraced new users thus it was my turn, most importantly beneficial was that open source allowed the comprehensive knowledge, and, allowed the development of the increasingly desired operating system, had it been copyright to someone else it would have been not mine to give and I felt it was my time to pay-back the interest I have enjoyed.

It mostly seemed good karma to help other ski bums, the highly neglected system was adopted by the Patagonians interested and development began, the community was slow to support the transition, but the participants involved were pleased and took a special affinity, soon over the language barrier they would begin to alter it for payments requiring a currency exchange. As the US dollar is widespread here at home, in Patagonia is a Chilean or Argentinian peso, its conversion includes a 2 dollar interval we don’t use and a cup of cappuccino might cost you 800 pesos so the regularly changing exchange rate needed to be an easy input. With the right amount of financial interest and operational intrigue the adaptation became more fluent and no longer on a permanent hiatus in that region, I still owned the license as I said so if they were to sell it I would turn a dime all in all. The other development came whereas I had been selling commodities in packages or generalized day passes and figuring the overhead costs at my discretion, they were devoted to making the program adept at tracking mass inventory lists by the same utility that it had been used for accounting all the while. These items included, personalized tourist keepsakes, skis and snowboards, accessories, food, lodging, transportation, private property rental, and anything else you can imagine a “ground up” operation would need, which includes a payroll. They became so adept at improving and promoting the software that they became my Argentinian developer team, they’ve called themselves the “Cymraeg Riders” development team, so called by the allusion to the word writers, the development has expanded the target investor demographic and given the opportunity to implement a Russian-English speaking sales team.

Different distributions are being developed for proprietary license commercial interests, each with the SKI- precursor followed by bum in each language designated, and each version has a name for its complexity. The original SKIBUM became, SKIBUM-Snowbunny, a simple accounting program, the operating system itself is an intricate desktop experience, similar to Apple, having an application centric interface, depending on how many modules and which are used affects the name of the distribution. In recent weeks the development of a touchscreen controlled interface for the newest kernel version (?).0 is being compiled for the recent advancement of computer tablets in the market, considerations are to reflect the negotiated devices that will endorse our software running on their devices, it will not be open source as the wireless transmission control protocols being developed independently from open source technologies as a new proprietary encryption, and will be distributed under the name SKIBUM-Blackdiamond.

I made decisions that in ways improves the efficiency through the use of technology and earned a reward in the process, it all may be temporary or infamous, turning a niche accounting program into an open source application that abetted the interest of like minds to the convenience of many others, as bookkeeping began losing the race to smart phones a capital idea was ready to exploit new advantages without resistance or missing the opportunity. The market has chosen to acclimate and if they don’t have to make tourists it likely will advance, developers can enjoy and students can students and explore, just as the original developers have endured thanks to the nature of open source. The OS can live forever in the world of hacker, code junkies, and possibly even specifically designed proprietarily for actual hardware devices in mass distribution. Once the tenure expires hopefully it will have changed lives for the better and helped others to do the same.

M2-20 Black Rose Immortal

2011-12-05T23:13:00.000-06:00

Merlin 2:20 “Martyr Art”

"When they finally meet the others and the phoenix Ana uses her knife to cut the sleeve of one at the shoulder, which reveals a tattoo of a flower just as the one in the castle."

Playing Favorites

2011-12-04T23:09:00.001-06:00

United States 2012 United America

These are my #GOP favorites, for the party nomination as of December. They are not the "head in the sand" politicians that ail this country. The DNC is downright shameful as of late with populist sycophancy, anti-capitalist behavior, divisive rhetoric, partisanship, incompetence, and corruption. On this day 2011, "occupy" protesters are sleeping in the bitter snow, leaderless and self enlisted, bad ideas without solutions have people sleeping in the cold without a message or salvation, and the DNC isn't out in force in soup kitchens and homeless shelters. Instead they devote their lives to class warfare and justice through hypocrisy, as if bloodletting won't kill Washington twice.

2012 Mitt Romney

Jobs | Mitt Romney for President

2012 Newt Gingrich

21st Century Contract With America | Newt Gingrich 2012

2012 Rick Perry

Rick Perry for President 2012 | Issues

2012 Jon Huntsman

Jon Huntsman on the Issues: Jobs, Foreign Policy, & More | Huntsman 2012

The superior man is modest in his speech, but exceeds in his actions.
The superior man is satisfied and composed; the mean man is always full of distress.
The superior man...does not set his mind either for anything, or against anything;
what is right he will follow.
Confucius, The Confucian Analects

I, M.J. Banks, a blue dog, support these GOP candidates but am not officially nor unofficially reciprocally supported. Any inconveniences caused by this endorsement or myself are not affiliated in any way with the theory of responsibility nor the USA, actions or inferences inspired by information found herein are done at your own risk. Nazis blow, Commies suck, I give them fuck-all.

Merlin 2:21 Secrets of Darkness

2011-11-28T21:45:00.000-06:00

Merlin 2: 21 “Secrets of Darkness…”

While the wounded rest there is the night that circles the earth, darkness to the gods it is the masker of the mighty powers, which even giants call unlight, that the elves call the joy of sleep, and the dwarves call the dream horizon.

In the distant woods runs the river of reason into a macabre meadow, with a red storm that rains of the warring gods an early autumn storm slowly turning the leaves, fathoms beyond holds a solemn apple tree surrounded by saplings of the lawn, only two dozen acres from a dense wood that slowly reclaims the plains but at present is halted. To satisfy the needs of destined doe foraying from the forest to the regards and reckon of mead drinkers wandering quite nomadically as the skies rumble in the distance.

In the fields of Wolf’s Prairie as a barbarous storm gathers a collection of fresh fallen and fermented spoils by the dearth of necessity, startled by travelers’ presence, the same as urgency struck into memory, within the rustling of leaves and dead memories by a field in solitude, the loud reproofs of the leaves that cover a tangent path and their payload to the forest floor, one so thick and overgrown that even at its edge will not easily give to a field of fire, a dark old wood prepares to contend with a storm.

A cold overshadow slowly walks the terroir with introspection to blitz two drunken parsons newly at camp and nourishing themselves to the plentiful fruit with lassitude rhetoric as if come to visit the distant woods. Where the forests grow shadows they are the cause of premature death unsuspecting and delivered unto punishment amongst the rubric fruit, for well-nigh dusk and her embrace exterminates them both as trespassers, keeping them from duly damaging the future of waving grain in the devil’s orchard awaiting the rain of the shadow god beneath the cerulean sky.

The darkness in survey of a natural environment is a villainess unable to subside to an entire evolutionary myriad of foes that would succeed the two now vanquished. The lightning strikes to warn the darkness, the wildlife will revive their population too dark for fire and dew covered every morn, no matter how close the suns above the forest of the mist. Beneath the promontory apple tree the dead lay in eternal rest for three days, being consumed by the ravenous ground and the ravens, dwelling creatures of the shade beneath shadows of an ancient importance, a dignitary of deeply graves bestows a scathing caprice where the living will numb and vice and linger until the Valkyrie came to take the corpses to Asgard. As where light seeks to cover and connect darkness ere it fortuitously grows as monolith and seeks to fill the echoes of the mind, the wind of the cold world lets a gust to signal credence but sends neither fire nor ice to instill judgment.

Recondite the travelers ensconce their camp anent the lonely orchard tree, to sleep and converse, to wash and eat near the river. The tree ties and feeds the horses well for at their height they are not half tall as the fruit. While Troy throws apples in the air the phoenix catches them, the land of local shadows bids a lenient departure into the woods to investigate whilst the virtues of evening are a font of magic for its ability. They all rest untouched as Merlin holds hidden in his hands strands of tattoos that run beneath his skin across his body, effulgent by spell in the darkness, as all sleep they are signs and symbols in the eyes of the demigod shadow. Reflecting or absorbing the stars Merlin’s insignia glows bright into the sky through clothes that wrap the skin, and of the others their powers display discourses benevolent. The great darkness is of this forest seeking only to harm the stray vagabonds of Midgard, in curiosity as it nears to view them sleeping the sound of wind parts around the silence and void startles Merlin, but only shadow in darkness beneath a black diamond sky to be seen it moves passed the fire as the flame light washes through it to the grass dissipated.

All are buried in their dreams as Troy sleeps while his wounds heal, a cavernous abyss stands next to the phoenix in disbelief, in the eyes of Troy the traces of a shadow are nothing more and dismissed as such, but while restive the phoenix peers and watches him look at night and look away with a scoff, the phoenix turns its head aside to learn of come what will thou may and sees the demon in full darkness splendor. Affrighted exigency, bathing in hatred, the great phoenix opens its wings and roars with fiery display, the shadow figure falls into the grass like poured water and vanishes as such, each of the high fortune their legends purvey with them now awake. The added heat of turmoil causes the meadow to be dry and the fire to be soon without fuel in the biting cold of eventide, but with a spell cast in duality the last of the embers become diamond coal stones that are kept warm in the evening by the breathing phoenix.

Eventually again they sleep of wantonly dream for softer slumbering but as Troy sleeps on a lavish billow of falcon crest and shoulder warm and comfortable, the companions wont for the course, Anathema a fire mage warm but disfavoring the conditions and Nickolas though of mortal emotion has come to terms with his senses, able to sleep through death in the cold and reawaken a warm artesian, her mostly contemptuous flame adjoins to union and coppice. Merlin turns in the cool air alone, smitten by the stars he loses himself in stare of heaven, kept warm by the larger lines among the intricate inlaid pattern that covers his body, with arms crossed until a fade blurs consciousness. In the morn, unwitting he rolls his feet too close to the phoenix and his feet catch fire not soon after dawn as the others watch. Merlin gives high interest and full effort into a lifting spell the same as through his slumber, ruffling without a coherent word from laying on his back the wind is born of his very hand and lifts him through his robes upright as a sail, thrusting him aback and abetted and sultrily without fettered leathers to his feet.

They speak the morning of jest and Merlin calls for a large hunt, concordant Nickolas and Ana on separate horses slowly gait until they spot a doe and scare it into a flit, with a marker flare Troy shoots the animal from above and Nick finishes in mercy, it is nice meat while new leather boots are worked by fire and blade and talk of philosophy.

Troy: “Liberty is the value of responsibility.”
Ana: “Respect is the value of logic.”
Nick: “Humor is the value of intelligence.”
Troy: “Love is the value of freedom.”
Merlin: “Nothing like battling your own mind.”

The phoenix is distraught, with a rudimentary balking cadence it seems to mock them all with a simple alphabet collected to a belligerent rendition of two puppets arguing, disconcerted the phoenix begins to clumsily move surly from them into the fog, serving as the humor for a dreary day. They make for the forgotten forest to the river intent to travel the shore upstream, through the bleak woods the leaves are reds and yellows in fade and falling, and the path never and nonexistent through thick overgrowth dank and inconvenient. Dismality looms as the storm fills the world between the horizon and night is the new day, shadow becomes wind and the torches are lit to soon be delible, night stands before Merlin and lets he and they from her grip of blinding darkness. Their torches erstwhile without use now blind them and they struggle to adjust their eyes as the demon of the fall speaks.

Nott: “…when you look into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you…”
Merlin: “We knew not your signs or our trespass.”
Nott: “If you do not kneel Ana, I cannot share my message.”
Ana: “Lady Shadow.”
Merlin: “Methinks I shall stand on ceremony.”

Ana secondly knelt after Nickolas, as thence Troy, his trusted phoenix taking to a cautiously slow retreat, all looking to the ground then to Nott, she stands before them fair in the leather garb of a trained rider, cloth and eyes of pure white.

Nott: “I dare a message in hopes the gods cannot see me through the storm over the darkness.”
Merlin: “What sight must you tell to us?”
Nott: “I see all at the edge of darkness, Etain has convinced Dagr to grant her with the great flame.”
Merlin: “But why share this news?”
Nott: “I did not mean to scare the phoenix, I merely wanted to see its beauty closely, but if it wishes to go as it does, it and rider may depart.”
Merlin: “Troy, take this knife and find the first river or clearing ahead of us.”
Troy: “Aye sir.”

Troy quickly mounts the phoenix and takes swiftly to flight, rushing through the branches and wet leaves, breaking and shaking them to the ground post haste.

Ana: “You waste your time with pleasure in danger?”
Nott: “Thor would not strike me, for I owe him too many favors…or him I.”
Nick: “You came to us when you could have left a note.”
Merlin: “Or the mead of poetry, Night.”
Nott: “She has made a coven with two sisters of your station, they seek to apportion Midgard, all the land is dangerous for you and yours, and you will need stronger and new powers Merlin. I cannot stay.”
Merlin: “Where are you going?”
Nott: “I move shadows for life to sleep, not die, it’s nay moving with I the same.”

Behind Nott the shadow tangible is a thick border to the scene, the sky thunders as she mounts a horse from the shadows so dark it cannot be seen named Hrimfaxi. Lightning flashes from the field far behind them but the thunder does not wait to shake the ground.

Nott: “If it’s all the same to you I’m expected elsewhere.”
Merlin: “A thousand thanks.”
Nott: “Apologies if you're vexed Merlin, your grace is well and seemly your foes in anger. The tables turn, farther need you be, and need you see.”

In the hallow footsteps a faint glittering of stars and Nott disappears before the sound of hooves, faster than can any in the light, unobstructed by obstacle, for the darkness is her first home. From the heavens comes a torrential rain of bitter wind and water from the mountains.

Neocon, I

2011-11-28T21:08:00.000-06:00

Neocon, I

I was going to start a newspaper called the Communist-Nationalist, they both hate capitalism so I could put whatever I wanted in it, slandering them, and they would never know. Then I realized that they would just steal it, but then again my hopes were that they wouldn't be able to read it, because they don't believe in capitalism it stands to reason, literally, that they wouldn't pay a teacher to instruct or discipline their minds, and thus never would learn to read. One thing certain about those who hate capitalism, they appreciate it and then despise it, championing it in three steps, first the unprecedented exploration and technological advancements, secondly they prize it's ability to keep the mind occupied, as if it were a tree in their destructive forest of the mind, for this most liberals enjoy all things creative, and thirdly industrialization presents ideas to copy. We know the artist creates to feed himself, and the zealot clings immediately to the cult of personality and idolizes other idolators. Once those three ideas are surveyed their creativity dies and a destructive nature plays a key role in destruction of both progress and education by means of power and control respectively. Seeking power entitles the hunting spirit within our shallow souls, taking power does not show any sign of receptiveness, for listening is the first task of a student which some may never choose to do. Those opposing capitalism feel that economic production centralized leads to favorable conditions for communism to emerge, every piece of literature supporting communism thru the relinquishing of democracy or by nationalism through the relinquishing of peace is the political equivalent to mobbing science with torches on grounds of witchery, even in cases of manifestos filled with delusions of grandeur and loathsome vilification.

Their consumerism radiates as the liberal profligates fear fiscal responsibility because it entails not buying the electorate, and the fascist despots fear reform because it may limit power and increase responsibility. Those crying for social justice want entire societies eradicated, those wanting civil liberties want their personal right and greedily their wishes granted prior to others, both in display of rampant inequality while childishly calling for fairness. Whatever ultimately is the impetus for their chaos it is motivated by cultural beliefs and random ideas that capitalism destroys human values and is antagonizing natural elements of society by means of exploitation, as if squirrels do not collect nuts or that humans do not use tools. This misconception stems into two maniacal constructs that harm the innocent. As they believe that it undermines and individual's sense of personal value in daily interests, they proceed to be the exception to the rule, or they believe that wealth undermines human relationships, in a contextual precipitation to currency it protects commerce without guaranteeing the benefits of commerce, such as products, profit, profession/occupation, and the control of economies, to an ineffectual imbecile.

Life is a blank page for eccentric nihilism confusion, fascism of the nationalists can fail to become theocratic fiends, and liberals can break trust to contradict themselves, what history does not remember time will only tell. It's best to avoid revolution, it only exists in history books and around you, in certainty the word itself means circularity, redundancy, untenable, and you cannot make anyone believe it or do it. The inevitability of it comes from the perpetuity of rumor and incontinent faith, and it's dangerous to believe that a question can be an answer; an overwhelming longing for security creates amateur politicians, and an overwhelming fear of anarchy creates an amateur economist. Compulsory unionists think pay for organization is the same as pay for the labor that earns it, infatuated sectarians will never find the innocent when they exterminate. Both despotic systems believe that classless existence can be achieved by class warfare, that oppression ends with treachery, and that contradiction ends with confrontation. The flawed integrity obviously fails, yet they hope for semblance without seeking potential.

Their lies are mostly stored and propagated on a form of media. When connected to a society and used for revolution, the faceless propaganda moves from the media into the host, like a common virus. The social programs have grown from focused operations to socialism, criticize the ambitions and outcomes of welfare programs, favor capitalism and provide a functional economy that can sustain a fight against poverty and public interests of tradition without undue influence. I've noticed that liberals can't count and conservatives have little patience, but intriguingly that libertarians are always on the fence about society, so for them this is how I might describe proper socialism if I were asked while having a spirited drink.

Socialism is like going to a bar or pub, first you need capitalism because strangers don't get bar-tabs, then you come and buy a drink for commerce. You might tip the barkeep for your aspect of charity or you might buy someone else a drink, but you pay the sales tax whether it's over or incorporated, which is pure socialism. The tax is what keeps socialism alive, otherwise it would be donation. If the locals decided they don't like you or your money and they make you buy yourself, or them a drink, or even take your money, that's blatant nationalism, whatever the reason they were to give. If they made you buy a drink because that were the law, that would be communism, anyone who couldn't or doesn't drink avoids the tax with the consumerist burden elsewhere, no matter of financial recipient or social cause. The patron is at their heart a person, whether a generous or cheap one is their choice, they are not republican or democrat, libertarian or anarchist, they are capitalist. Political parties only serve to either diminish productivity through corrupt redistribution or to oppose those who punish success. When you choose which side to play, there are more than two, remember that neither their names nor their opinions are not what make them, only facts support logic. Capitalism is natural, it is conscience, a rabbit eats herbs but not the roots, a deer eats apples but not the tree, humanity should not shit where it sleeps, no matter who calls it art.

Urdarbrunn

2011-11-21T12:48:00.001-06:00

The Book of Earth
9. Urdarbrunn

The world was great and the mountains were so high that no human could reach their peaks. The land was so vast that it had yet to be charted, the cities were the finest monuments to humanity and honor, and the oceans were rich with life, but the population grew. The coasts were mapped, the waters were drank, the lands were harvested, the food was eaten, and the population began to mine the earth to find the world below them. They planted their crops on the walls of the wells, but the end of the world could not be found, they soon flew, and swam, and dived into the sea, and could not find the end of life, or a sign of the earth's center. Where the land was cold they burrowed beneath it and harnessed the elements for the light they needed below the earth, and finally one day when mining they found a stone the size of a city. They could not carve it, nor could they blast it, nor could they move it, so they mined around it, and for many years examined it, but one day of disgrace upon them when the inevitable civilized life forms chose to be anything but that, there was a murder at the stone below the surface somewhat close to the center of the earth. For all the blood sweat and tears shed upon the stone, the blood of murder awakened a danger, the stone consumed itself with a collapsing rupture and quake, where the stone was became a fire from the ancient worlds where the gods had once warred, and the fire was hotter than that which could be most hot. Everything close to the rapture died and from the old fire there were terrible lizards on claws and talons and razor tails, by winged beast and terrors keen to feast with fangs of predation, of last came of them beasts combined of the dangers and angers of all other beasts called dragons.

Their life ran from destruction, and the fields would no longer be their home, not one region was safe from tyranny because every terrain was the domain of the tragic beasts, no mountain too high, no valley too low, no river too deep, no ocean too strong. The beasts chased them into the mines, natural caves, and from their tunnels to which they could not hide and fortify defenses fast enough. The pretenses of survival were surely rough and all to eat was beast, for they were predators without civilization, and the people ate only meat for many generations. If not stronger taller, if not faster smarter, if not clever more apt, survival was imperative and for the fittest, and was so claimed by the best as the survivors tunneled downward straight to the center of the earth.

One day a tunnel emerged and found better dragons than were born of fire, hunting and killing, and the traps that fed humanity were further exploited, four tribes eventually found their tunnel exits at the ends of the earth. Fate prepared them to battle and one day a warrior survived a small beast giving pride to those who saw, and soon blinded new in generations to the powerful sunlight they cautiously roamed the earth, this was each the way the other tribes survived, but the beasts were too many for survival. With the courageous lost the evolution of humanity suffered losses in progress, but patience redeemed, among them were born the first of the gods, who could die but after much more damage. After an age the gifted would fight but have children with combined power, after an epoch they would seem invincible to humanity, after an era they would have trouble killing themselves, after an eon they would be truly immortal with powers unlike mortals, but there were still beasts that grew alongside them. Monsters of the deep to hunt for sport and others to train for hunting, yet there were still those who took shelter in the caves and perhaps some who did not escape the mines at all in the ancient past, the tale is that they grew small, divided by species and in form, to hide from the dangers of existence and to seek creatures for a hunt of their own, how small are they that a world just as small could reside beneath them.

Thus so the stones would grow, the mountains gave magma, the sky cried, far and wide the world continued to grow. The only mystery of the universe awaited only the question of its ability to contain life, and the world grew large to venture at endless bounds where the children of the old gods played, as time unfolded so did the earth itself, until the dark wistful shallow spirits grew voids in their souls. Then upon them within the world a dark stone came to existence from deep within the recesses of immortality, and the black diamond grew. It contemplated and spread like poisonous crystal, and it consumed other stones of great power by seeping to the surface and taking them until it became a bright darkness. Pure with thought of evil the dark stone worshipped itself and contaminated its inner shadows until it opened a passage and Jotunn the manifestation of apparition darkness set foot on earth. Divided it spent its time torturing life and growing the dark crystal against the otherworld Vanaheim. The Jotunn did not name the second world and only considered it a priority to expand a dark empire. Long as all of time had been nine times nine times more a red blood stone opened from the innermost implicit infinitesimal essence, and it grew and survived the destructive power of itself until the power tore a portal into the nether existence to release another master of worlds, this time the Asgard. In this trinity, where the lighting was fire and the water was sand, the three worlds battled and the life evolved to manifest destiny, of immortality were insects beneath the gods. A terror between worlds and among dragons and armored beasts, while the wars continued in madness time escaped and it soon began to grow, and by the autumn of the first life of time the three worlds had each become three unto the like and had made war an art as is done. To each they kept styles of battle but so much the same they wielded until their will be done, of types unique to each world they summoned metals as which would surface when called to be thrown at each other, as some would die, others would be born better to stand the test of time, three worlds by three, connected and embattled.

On the day when Midgard was wounded by they who are half demons and they who are half angels, in a great battle bringing revelation a great warrior from Asgard stood, annoyed by feast and blood and mostly battle, disgusted by some of the gods, those from the house of Vanir who could see the future but refused to prevent wars for mortals. In the moments of time longer than mortal existence the warriors from house Aesir took violence until victorious, unto thus a truce beholds the worlds of life as existence murdering all who murder in the name of another.

/

Ghost of the Sun

2011-11-21T12:45:00.001-06:00

The Book of Earth
8. Ghost of the Sun

Life and death before dawn in the dark night, was of task the shadow king, the world was what it seems to be in light, unknown to him what seeing is, for seeing is a gift under the sun, and from the coal four kinds of stone, hatred for the world for the smell of smoke, so coy and tryst within the mist, amenities of life often were had, to pace the days with shade of lies, other ones who follow are just as lost, libraries of futures extend, where the world will fall with kingdoms complete, and tragedy will speak to trees, the numbers of the soils of worlds are nine, combined to one a war exhumes, always is the lust for light imperfect, to wage a dream above the sky, but where it seems the dangers owe their life, a dark abode abides by none, a terror in the night is soon concealed, of king and wraith and even war, without the light the darkness always roams, an ill desire to see the fire, when matters of the darkness to combine, another sets the trail of death, however there is hail upon the frost, the gods are blind behind their eyes, just as angry mirrors of the soul, crawling over broken shadows, the carrion of time is all but black, existence lives and grows complete, nothing exists without eternity, the evidence in outer space, the shadow lord is blind for all of time, without the light you could not know.

The Plague of Man

2011-11-21T12:43:00.001-06:00

The Book of Earth
7. The Plague of Man

When the civilized world was complete the queen of alchemy died, much to the disappointment of the alchemy king, alas he had tried to postpone her dying and avert her death, but he could not and his heart became a vicious torrent of anger against humanity. He began to tempt the Norns which at the point of tranquility had become the only crime even considered by scientific minds. A swath of genocide intrigued the king, for unsuitable he found replacements, their diseases could be cured and again alas they were not his lost love. A terrible envy plagued him of the gods, to quell his anger he created a disease to rid the world of its human life except himself, but the civil scientists only cured and eradicated his plague after plague after plague. His infatuation with death disallowed his uninterested reprieve, so he created a blight to harm the vegetation in waves of horrid affectation one after the next, first botany, then agriculture, then weeds, but once again tho with some trouble they disinfected the staggering blight. His thoughts were still dead set, he thought until his thoughts revealed a damning virus, his mind rolled in succinct jubilant revelation, and he created a poison that would kill the animals of the world and thus infect that which consumed the beasts and remain infectious and untraceable, but the world was cautious and fasted and designed a machine to churn the clouds and draw air away from the continents, and the animals were euthanized, and eradicated. His madness was replaced with deeper madness which was so replaced by chaos, with his anger he attacked the machines and fought the lighting within the storms of the clouds, and there fought to the death the storms and the wind and the reverent skies, losing his life.

The king stood in the afterlife, his body resting before him in the storm swept land of faded glory, where Loki the trickster approached to give condolence and offer a trickster's deal. A life of the undead, to heal slowly and eat the living and even to control others of the afterlife spells of necromancy. The king of course accepted to further his hate that had not died with him. Loki raised his red hand and devils of hell raised from the earth, with a prim sole promise to sew the king to the mortal world Loki took a knife and threw it into the king's head, the king awoke in the world of the living, still with his wounds where lighting had pierced him many times implicitly, but the wounds were healing. The demons looked to the king with the mending scar on his face and he could read their thoughts and by his wishes alone they obeyed the orders of his mind. The after gangers were as puppets his messengers of death, but a different poison ran in the king's blood than of the vitriolic demons, for when they slayed their foes death held the slain, yet when the king of death battled his blood became a disastrous contagion, those infected were not under his control. The zombie contagion infestation obeyed only the demons, he slayed in jest an after ganger and the mist of blood carried in the air infected other life just as he the first. As he found that they were not his puppets he slayed them and ordered the demons to forfeit their ready growing legion of the hungered dead, but the demons denied him and had strayed from him. The king of the dead having lost superiority felt envy again and killed one of the demons, from the battle his wounds healed but as he hunted and killed nine demons hiding on the earth each, his wounds began to heal slower than they had with each he killed, leaving him believe that the demons were the source of his immortality, so he trapped and imprisoned the final demon in a cage made of poison. When the king deserted the prison the final demon was actually the trickster, puppeteer of the demons, deceiver of providence, and walked through the prison walls.

Tho the king’s wit had left humanity it had not abandoned him, when he saw that the dead were only attacking the young, the machines to purify only dragging the virus over the land quicker, he set to destroy every undead creature to liberate all life, but with each slay the disease only spread faster, into the water, into the air, into the darkness, and in the fires into the light, until the world was consumed by death and all life was lost.

The alchemist king wandered an empty world until the gods had enough sport of his insanity and Loki washed the world with holy fire. It was a trick by the trickster to entertain the gods, the sun washed the world with warmth and the waters purged themselves against the mountains of the sea, the plants began to grow powered by the life of the universe. When the world was mended by the Vanir as best they could, paying Loki with some of the deviant souls, the Aesir returned all of the wrongfully fallen to their lives just as they had existed before catalyst mischief.

/

The Philosopher's Stone

2011-11-21T12:39:00.001-06:00

The Book of Earth
6. The Philosopher's Stone

In the darkened morbid forest stood a demon of red iron scales, strong and in good form, a cape of red buck leather is the only soft element of the chimera, from the violent covens of witchcraft and innocent sacrifice it moved south following a seven headed constellation named Leviathan, through the forest setting fires and other vile mischief, unto a valley where he summoned innocent victims by wishing for shooting stars in sparse amounts and preying, each would suffer and he would carve their bones, every time he would wash in their blood and drink from their skulls if an entertaining battle had occurred, until the boredom of malaise offered only immense grief to the hunter demon. He thought of the end of the world and of the dark horizon, another stargazer came and was lynched against a tree and drained by the demon for the chance to drink his blood and torture simultaneously, like a sack of horrid wine the wrist was slit and blood let, and then more contemplation. In the foothills of a mossy crumbling mountain he had never seen a cat, and so with that thought he slit the other wrist, with the blood the chimera raised a panther in the night with fire and black magic, the red warrior summoned the thing from the ground and raised it through the soil with a grasp of the nape, pulling it from the fertile earth.

Chimera: "Unholiest hunter I call darkness, speak and be heard."
Panther: "You have made another way to die."

The cat lowered, scowled, and leapt at the chimera demon, a horrible roar and swift soar with claws and jaws of fearsome fangs, a skirmish to battle death, and the demon was bit in the waist and hurled the cat with both hands into a tree. He grabbed his scurrilous blade from a sheath filled with poison oil as the panther leapt again. His cape was torn as it lied against his wounds as the cat attempted to batter with its claws the open sores from the bite. With his hand he took the panther's throat, pressed against the same tree he held the poisonous dagger to the throat, his arm beheld the blade blocked the other paw.

Chimera: "Hunt for me and I will not kill you!"

The claws in the black paw retracted, the chimera demon reasserted his choke hold and taunted with the sickening blade once to display dominance as much as to flinch his own insanity. He released the cat that slunk down the tree and cowered, timid and skittish not knowing if it could escape the demon.

Chimera: "It is not my flesh you smell, it is this creature’s; eat of the kill as I, without fear of your food."

The demon cut into his prisoner who screamed if dire agony, a piece of flesh was tossed to the predator who did not hesitate to feast.

Panther: "What is it you will of me?"
Chimera: "Fear me and not these things make you a spy but not their enemy."
Panther: "To what end?"
Chimera: "I task you to feast on the village over the rise, unless you cannot hunt or are scared?"
Panther: "Why not do you go?"
Chimera: "I cannot freely pass among them, besides, you can speak, speak as their god and they will follow you to any cave."
Panther: "And from a horde of rats I will run them to you."
Chimera: "Endure."

The panther thought as it licked its paws and cleaned itself, incessantly spreading the smell of blood over itself before lazily heading over the hillside. The hostage had died, below the body the chimera digs a hole in the fertile earth, and the remaining blood was drained and began collecting in the bloody pit of horror. The demon looked at his hand of stone and submerged it in the red blood, removing it the stone was gone but the scathing from the cat remained.

Often heathens would practice pagan rite, a fire in the night inside a sitting circle of those who took turns tossing a different colored flammable powder into flames and repeating some words from a book written by a drunkard or a mad person, hoping that a devil would approach them for they to ask upon it their wiles. The panther happened upon them by circumstance and tended to exploring for to curiosity is a solemn thing that a cat cannot leave to chance. The fire was frightening to the panther with its seamless saunter, but there were few enough men to maim them, and take one for supper, but first it would have to watch them in their baggy clothes and see if they carried knives as they tarried.

The fire was alluringly mysterious, how it brought twilight to the trees but not into the darkness where the hunt resides. The patience wore thin and the cat's hunger became a lungful pang. Insidiousness lasted until the cat heard them speak the word for enemy in any word and effortlessly the cat leapt to the dirt floor from the shadows.

Panther: "You have called for me, I am Osiris of legion."
Bash: "We seek a magic for which to kill nations."
Panther: (pacing) "Which nation do you wish to kill?"
Petric: "Those beyond our borders that keep us in asylum."
Panther: "You know them not?"
Montu: "There is a vast army that brings horror; we cannot enslave enough to fight them"
Bash: "We offer our worship and fealty o great panther spirit."
Panther: (sitting) "A dark, in the cold moon, my power."
Bash: "By your ken, do you grant or share your power?"
Montu: "Will we be magical or immortal?"
Halroy: "By so close you should not be, if ever to spells and lessons."
Panther: "You will be remembered."

With a fierce angered roar the cat clubbed Bash and delivered a strike a deathblow and a bite to Petric. Bash pulled daggers and pricked the panther in the back as Montu wielded a torch club and strikes the cat with fiery spear. A sinister growl half-quieted by anger as the panther leapt to Bash's chest forcing him to the ground on his back as the panther tore his throat with fangs, on four legs the panther paced encircle thirteen gait and lunged with a roar to wake the ravens from their nightmares to kill Montu, but what feared three to strike made Halroy flee into the darkness. Even in darkness the earth was solid, the moon was reborn a shadow of itself and barely a sliver of light reflected from the moon to show the black cat a hunting paradise, but such levels of vision are not afforded to man and Halroy ran in the darkness. Tripping on mounds and broken boughs, the panther trod through clearings and leapt obstacles, a leisurely indirect course of sport weaving playfully through the trees, the victim did not stand to chance, claws to the back so painful was the agony that intensity did not allow him to faint before he died, he was consumed as the moon draws near.

When the panther ate his full he moved sluggishly back to the fire and began to feast, the chimera silently approached and clubbed the cat with a branch across the head from behind it. The panther was put unconscious, but eventually woke to the demon eating an eye from the end of a knife.

Chimera: "I asked you to lead them to me."
Panther: (yawning) "...you would have me share my kill?"
Chimera: "I will have you lead me to your hunts, if you are chased, you can lead them to me."
Panther: "Or I could tempt fate with you again."

The chimera opened his mouth and hissed, just as a cat, showing his fangs, sharper than that of the beast. The demon continued to eat and cautiously the panther joined him. As was wished the cat stalked the forest with the demon following behind not far, after each kill they would choose a new direction circling the fortified city, which held a contemptuous interest of the demon. In this way the talking cat terrorized the forest for three years, three months, three weeks, while insulting the gods before each prey lured by intrigue and the allure of promised power followed by slaughter, but took an overwhelming hatred towards holy men and made certain to play with his food at these confrontations.

The travelers came into the city sparingly, but citizens rarely ventured, and hunting parties searched for the cat, each party larger than the last, when they began to be too big to kill or lead to the demon, the demon would fell them earnest by all at once slowed with spells to mire them and have target practice with a knife on a whip. In the newest day a war began from the tensions of southern raiders and the woes the demon and panther had begun in the woods. The fallen warriors in the infinity war cycle had not perished but had gone to war leaving the huge city less the most of its regiment. On that night the panther sleeked into the city and after clubbing him unconscious took a hostage of a holy bishop into the woods.

From thence this action the cat made ally with the tenant farmers wherever it could, and spoke to them of sedition and treason, first upon the first that he found twelve men farming through the sunset and complaining as they worked.

Panther: "If you hide he will find you and lie to you there."
Blither: "Don't trust the black cat."
Panther: "If you quarrel by axe, does not your lord take an axe to you? Show me the way to your landlord and lead him out of home to me."

Egregiously the farmers gladly accepted the advice of the cat and lead the landlord to a place in the wood predetermined, where they met the bishop in a chair deep in the forest drugged by the demon.

Landlord: "What is this bishop?"
Panther: "The bishop said I should bring you here for your death, that I may have my peace."
The Bishop: "I said no such thing, across your path this black cat brings hex upon us all...no!"

The chimera demon silently approached one of the farmers and with sword began to hack into him, the others fled in exhaustive fear. The panther slipped behind the bishop's chair and with a voice mockingly similar to the bishop said, "kill them all my demons," and then leapt after the fleeing farmers. After killing one the chimera shouted to the panther urging a postponement of further hunt. The farmers returned to the city and took holy hostage at the first temple they found, demanding to know the meaning of their dilemma, through chaotic anger the hostages were killed and a bloody civil war broke within the city.

With the city in turmoil the demon sneaked into the city, maiming and claiming lives while heading toward the main temple. At the holy cemetery three guards battled and lost to the demon, the chimera knelt before one of the bodies and stabbed the dead man countless several times, as more guards followed the path of destruction they found the demon had lifted the pierced body over his head to revel in a shower of blood.

The demon vaulted the body and profusion of blood to bash six from a score of guards to the ground. The other men fought bravely but were slain one by one, as if they were toys. Behind the demon stood a door with a board across it to keep whatever contained, with a strike of the sword the beam was cut and the door was then kicked from close. The room was painted black, in the center a rough diamond with a chain suspended in the air over a limestone block with moss the white color of soft lightning effulgence, growing from the walls to the relic except beneath the philosopher's stone. The chimera's skin that faced the rough diamond began to cover with a dust that gradually turned his scales and skin to granite stone, he swiped the diamond from the air, his hand pained him so as it turned to freezing stone, he opened his fanged jowls and swallowed the precious stone being sure to loop the golden necklace under his silver tongue as to not swallow it completely. Soon nepenthe coursed his veins, the stone sickness was purged, his scales turned black and his leather skin became white or smeared with ash, the chimera hunted the panther and hung it from the city gates while fires within burned. It was there he was hunted by every able hunter to the white cliffs where the demon was forced to stage a spurious death.

/

The Thief

2011-11-21T12:36:00.001-06:00

The Book of Earth
5 - The Thief

An ash cloud disturbed by light, a great mountain was angered and the blood fires poured from Muspel, great sulfuric fires brought dastard ash over the sky that pushed the clouds, the air was dense as it rained, until the water stopped, the grounds were clean and awaited the ash to lay on the earth. A thief named Ninjaryu wearing the color of night stole from a city in the fields of flax, and its citizens, the river of fire poured from the mountain caused by the opened heart within the god of death, the thief's treasures were not tithing to his comfort, but his tools were, when his neighbor told him of the calamity he looked at the torrent of molten stone that bled down callous mountainside with the rising calamity and he took his tools close to his vest. He kissed the stolen statues of the gods around his quarters and ran for the lava. Through the town he ran with everyone running the other way, the law escaped horse trampling children, the grocers stocked carts with food and not the elderly had long left at the start, for their notice from the market had been the first. The thief continued to run unto the strong house where the cartel resides, he killed seven guards to penetrate the gates, through the garden where the servants are dead for stealing horses, to the master house of the compound. He was bid to leave in consoling solace by the boss so that the boss and subordinates could part with treasure that they had spent their lives stealing.

Rilkar: "It is high time you left Ninjaryu, as we are, you may help if you'd like, but you must vacate our destiny."
Ninjaryu: "You take your slow treasure, and not your children?"
Rilkar: "They have earlier parted on the horses that were almost stolen, as you have surely seen. I cannot stem the storm so we make for a Hringhorni, what brings you thief?"
Ninjaryu: "I need strong explosives immediately."
Rilkar: "...that is going to cost you...because of the storm...what's mine is yours, but if you’re going to leave I'll need to charge you for the tour..."

The thief began to kill them, a guardian got his spine hacked below the base of the skull and an arrow from a crossbow flew behind Ninjaryu's head as the body of his opponent fell to the earth, another guard fared poorly as each arm was broken at the elbow simultaneously, a crudely patent insult from a skilled combatant, with both arms in lock the thief broke the guard's nose with his head strong enough to nearly kill him, another arrow loosed before his face as he dropped the second body onto the piano and swiftly punched a third guard then put his heel into stomach, a third and fourth of five approached the thief, as a dance of fighting clouded the close quarter combat the thief took an arm and wrapped himself in his enemy, the third was punched accidentally in the face by the fourth before he was shot in the head by an arrow with his name on it. The fourth guard was not alive when his neck was broken. The fifth guard was kicked in the chest, knocking him backwards into the wagon and broke the wheel causing gold to spill.

Rilkar: "Ah! You stupid fucking rube, you're going to pay."

Ninjaryu took the crossbow from the mobster, his knee kicked the crossbow and he grabs it with his hand, and punched the mobster with the other, his fist clasped the trigger and turns the crossbow upright.

Ninjaryu: "There is something I've always wanted to take from you."

The thief rode up the empty street on a stolen horse with a second horse in tow, the satchels packed with explosive powder, his sight and intent were the temples of Syrinx, hoping that if one of them fell in an angled path of other large buildings in the capital the lava might divert, but it was not true for the sight of wrath was upon the earth, the lava was not a river to be stemmed, it was a tide from the torrent of death, it was a satanic wake wroth to cleave existence from fate, tearing through buildings as if they were castles made of sand. He turned and ran from the fires, from the volcanoes, the beloved royals and cursed regents he hoped are flit from the carnage, the blue jays that kill only when creatures are struck by fear had their work cut out as the black hawks fast flew from mice and men. The wraiths and gargoyles smiled with sinister smiles and stood in wait and watched for sport.

Ninjaryu hastily stopped to fill a pouch with abandoned oranges but the sight and the noise drove him from peril. The lava rolled with the sound of the giant snake Jormungand crushing all in its path as the clouds of arsenic ash billowed and vast poured across heaven and shadowed the earth, as if the edge of the earth were rising into the fires of dawn.

The lava boiled the reservoir and broke the dam, the water poured through the trickling meadow stream as a torrent, the babble was hidden by the thunder, the ash fell and the fires began to ignite in the doomed city, what seemed like meteors begin to fly into the city, Ninjaryu turned the horse toward the dry riverbed Elivagar, the path was open, the race was faster upon escape, behind him the water rushed faster than he.

When the flood came he was farther from the fires than he had expected and closer to the sea than he needed, he and the horse were washed beyond the coast, when the water washed the docks the ships were foundered, all but the Hringhorni. When the wave broke the fires of war still approached from the mountain, as tall as two men the fires melted stone and turned thought to ash. Ninjaryu found a small boat and rowed from the coast, watching the destruction. The large boat slow upon escape took him aboard and lassoed the horse from the water by the neck, the fires consumed the air and drew the sails the wrong way, they were cut by desperate people and the men sat out the oars and began their distance. With long fishing spears children took floating oranges from the surf as they escaped the cannonade of hell's conquest.

/

The Saboteur

2011-11-21T12:31:00.001-06:00

The Book of Earth
4 - The Saboteur

Fenrir, god of wolves, sat below the world with his sister advantageous Hel, the highest princess of Muspellsheim and Niflheim and Hel as named for she. In the underworld kingdom Muspellsheim there is a lake of fire, the malicious demons do the bidding of their masters, they are born of fire to bathe in it, generations never dying having demonic spawn stronger than their ancestry in a cesspool of deviance far older than mortality. For their actions they are rewarded with carnal pleasures and reincarnation in the house of the Surtur, in their demise they return to Hel a failure, shortcomings which are punished in the ways of hell. When they return they are not arisen within the lake of fire but instead returned to the great darkness, suffering purgatory and the seven rungs of hell before they can return to the comfort of their molten sulfur where punished for failure to punish humans, it was their way that gave dismay unto them, and unanimously they contended their preference to be returned to the great lake of fire when they decease. The pleasure of demons is fire, for this would erupt on the three worlds of men and allow Surtur's rising, so Hel used ice to hold the lake of fire above the dungeons where failure and sin is tortured.

A world of chaotic fire and torment with swathes of feudalism and discontent and insanity above a crystalline layer of ice within the chasm, from below it is clear and transparent and the flames look like wisps of thin smoke and from above the demons cannot see down to Fenrir and Hel who sit staring at a magical sky of fire and ice from a distance no taller than twice of a man tall, as could be tallest among other men. The ice barrier cracked and made a terrible rumble, and Hel mended the fracture caused by the growing numbers of demonic saboteurs with pleasure. For the actions of the demons making such havoc Odin ordered the gods Freyr and Sunna to end their bringing of warmth and light to the worlds of mortals, in optimistic hopes it would despoil the efforts of the demons. By such a command the mountain became cold and Thor shook the snow from above and the earth was cold forever indignant of the three fates. Hel decided that if her demons could not torture Midgard and Alfheim and Svartalfaheim, that she would be the scourge of the land, she faded from existence in the darkened hell and reappeared from an ice cave in the world of Midgard to play in the witching hour.

The world was bleak and the light of the gods remained forever passed the shore of the horizon, barely a glow. The cold culled the demons and weakened the others until they were hunted and killed by men, from which they each returned to hell. With far too many in the lake of fire, even those that were not reborn in flame were approaching the unstable ice plane that held the lake of fire, which was cracking and breaking. Hel had forgotten her deed and continued to search for sinners and the weak willed whom she might sway to dastardly effects only to poach them for her kingdom beneath the world.

Fenrir was woken by the sound of the ice breaking. He could not freeze the demons nor abolish them as Hel could, so he decided to warn them. His words served only to alarm them, their hectic ruckus began to frenzy and the ice continued to fracture, he then ordered them to war amongst themselves to which the brazen and bold were apt and compliant, but the battles of the monstrous demons only worsened the fire and war. Holes in the barrier began to form and the fires of hell that pore over souls began to pour into the dungeons of contempt and despotism, in a panic Fenrir began to slay and slaughter the demons, there were far too many and even decimated their flesh crawled along the ground, they were far too much and the violence only made them more fervent and Fenrir more exhausted.

In haste Fenrir commanded the armies one by one to go below and support the ice with their hands, their warmth did more damage than good when their efforts were sabotaged whilst they were killed in the chaos they resumed in the lake with youthful vigorous fires from which they spawn, where they held the cracks together the ice would mend but the entire layer was melting faster than could be helped, Fenrir would order the demons to support each fracture as they were spotted, but eventually the ice could not hold the torrential lake of torture and thus it collapsed.

Hel above wandering the ice age had murdered many men and curtailed the weak of spirit until they succumbed to evil and she reaped their souls then sent them to the despotic dungeons of hell. From them she took their stolen map written in a language much like her own, which had long been unspoken by the people of Midgard. It was a dry and worn map uncovered from an unmarked rusty metal box that had stained the parchment red and made it brittle. A simple path it foretold whence it lead to a stone in the yard the height of a midget, hidden by hex she used a star, a grain of sand, and spring moss to open the stone, but it was the a puzzle that painted the symbols of sounds with firelight, the message warned that practical magic would not save whoever took the blade, that only divine witchcraft would prevail if the blade was stolen, as the stone from top to bottom turned to falling sand. She took the dagger and the world around her became drawn to the dagger wherever she moved, using her magic time stopped as she left the spirit trap. With her she carried the first finely crafted dagger that humans had ever made which was also the first knife used to kill a man, when came one of her generals whom was in charge of torture innovation.

Dvalin: "Greetings your majesty?"
Hel: "What is it now Dvalin?"

She held the knifepoint beneath his chin, the demon flushed faintly over its red skin and tried to camouflage with the surroundings to escape, but Hel made the air cold and dense and pierced the skin of the demon.

Dvalin: "It is a wonderful knife, my liege, where did you get it?"

She withdrew the knife scraped his skin at the same time then wiped the blood from it, as the demon's complexion resumed a scorned color.

Hel: "It was buried near the lost castle at Gaul, traitorous thieves were in contest for a trove map in a language that they could not read to a puzzle they shan't solve as mortal men, so I relieved them of their desires and paid them in their deaths...you had come for a reason I presume."

Dvalin: "The Lake of Fire will soon awaken Surtur; you have left your armies writhing and not warring and now the levee breaks."

With a snap of her fingers she and Dvalin were in hell and everything was inanimate. The water stopped before falling, the formation of each drop was wide at the bottom and pointed at the top as is any water drop, the points sharp enough to scrape steel. The steam would not move without great force and would drag across the armor of those who could try to part it, and the water was blackened and stolid like granite and steel. Above her the demons frayed and washed into the abyss were also frozen and trapped in the cold elements, positioned in awkward poses. Dvalin pulled on the cusp of a solid flame, a kindle fraught flicker that did not move, but was as ardent as a living flame.

Hel: "Dvalin, be gone!"
Dvalin: "It is only a piece I need take for a despot I have below."

She paused and watched with awe as in a formidable moment Dvalin broke a piece and retreated with it into the darkness. Fenrir waited with worry shown by the wolf blood within him, hanging his head low in respectful fear.

Hel: "This is a tragic problem that I cannot be in two places at once; at next offense you must come and get me sooner."
Fenrir: "Thank you for averting disaster, your wish is my command."
Hel: "Simpler things are known, I command you to send me the Minotaur king and leave my sight for one year, or until you are needed by father."
Fenrir: "Thy will be done."

With that Fenrir vacated Hel's side and retrieved the Minotaur regent for her then went to Jotunheim for his sentence, hunting in the snowy mountains. When the Minotaur arrived he knelt before the high queen Hel.

Minotaur: "All hell for thee your majesty."
Hel: "We must begin repairs at once, thaw the slaves as needed and begin immediately, use your labyrinth so that the little devils do not escape."
Minotaur: "It will be done by your all-wise command."
Hel: "I will be in the court of the damned if needing be."

Hel left the realm of her prison into the shadows and the Minotaur began thawing and rebuilding the prison and the lake of fire with blood and magic and as predicted containing the demon slaves as they systematically tried to escape.

Far below the reconstruction Dvalin stood before the culprits of the treasure map malice, three men in tattered and soiled worn and ovum soaked leather, the first blond, the second blue, and the third of crimson.

Blue: "Your attempts to take our freedom away are merely the god-king Odin at hope to let you play."
Dvalin: "By your heavy souls you each killed the other and the queen killed you third."
Blonde: "Absurd, you have our death?"
Dvalin: "Yes."
Crimson: "How, we are not dead, where are we?"
Dvalin: "You are in over your head, for your sabotage in your lives you will be now tortured, regularly, unless you have other wishes?"
Blue: "Do we not get a trail, a place to plea?"
Dvalin: "It is impolite to answer a question with a question my blue friend, besides that, you're not going anywhere."
Blonde: "Demon!"
Dvalin: "Yes, don't interrupt, this is a blade made from solid fire forged from the lake of sins, the first of its kind I have acquired to accost prisoners, and you will be my...experiments...it should cut you causing great pain but keep the flesh from cooking and peeling from your bones...who wants to go first?"

The Cheater

2011-11-21T12:26:00.001-06:00

The Book of Earth
3 - The Cheater

The prince cannot be beaten unless by the king, not even by his professor, so sat an early and young Loki, his whipping boy Lini, and his teacher, Arnwald.

Loki: "If you thirst for power you are not free, if war dost thou make ye will not be?"
Arnwald: "And when insurrection is taking the pattering of new feet?"
Loki: "It is not the first thought of action or the last action of thought."
Arnwald: "But who will make a king one day must know what of a slave?"
Loki: "That we are not born as slaves, without command we will become."
Arnwald: "Think more of the grain, it is not born our food but is consumed by the animals, and, the farmers."
Loki: "And that is why we must condemn the heathen father fights in the south!?"
Arnwald: "...why does he fight in the south?"
Loki: "Why does anyone?"
Arnwald: "why does Loki fight in the south?"
Loki: "For our protection?"
Arnwald: "The wheat does not kill itself, it propagates, such is life, yet we kill the wheat, the south is in confederacy only for the purpose to kill again. If I were to kill the first servant that I saw on the street what would you make of me?"
Loki: "I would have you dead and make quick about it."
Arnwald: "And if our rations were scorned by Hel, what then?"
Loki: "We would make as ants equal unto the light as says the city scrolls."
Arnwald: "What makes a servant different than a slave in the eyes of the heathens that would have us be slaves or worse?"

The young Loki's teacher Arnwald waited for a response, but Loki hesitated, aversive he requited his paucity by awaiting proper instruction.

Arnwald: "It is Succor to leave well enough alone, the temple would have us both remiss if I did not learn you indifference, take up your inks and parchments and write me a missive, connoting three places you have been where you were forced to make a choice, be sure to list the choices properly for me, I will return with your lunches post haste."

Loki sat with confusion only for a moment as he scanned his memories, then began promptly without an expression on his face. The pillars were white and beyond the grass green. A covered porch of sorts, marble with heavy roof, two walls, two sided rows of columns, in the second wall a door to the palace where Arnwald had retreated. They worked driven on their essays and soon Arnwald had returned with a platter of wine and red meat brazed and rare, in exchange for the letters they were given their meal. Arnwald looked over the message and scrutinized, expectations met and missed, until Loki was finished eating, then he put the letter on the empty platter.

Arnwald: "And now to prove it."

Arnwald waved his hand and Loki opened his eyes in a field of clouds. All that surrounded him was white, without boundaries above, beyond or below. From the distance a fighter in black fabrics ran at a steady pace toward Loki, soon he could see that the soldier carried a sword and was fierce and foaming at the mouth. The assassin attacked without hesitation or greeting or prayer, and Loki craftily ended his opponent's life by turning the sword in on the attacker, breaking the knee backwards, stepping on the back, and punishing his skull. Then came two from the distance alongside themselves, upon their attack they were mangled and wretched to intolerable limits and their necks were broken, one by hands, the second by swift kick to the face. Loki collected his nerves and pondered.

Loki: "What are your intents Arnwald; we have not played these games in many moons."

Arnwald and Lini watched without being seen or heard or felt. From the distance another assassin in black rushed toward him, but from behind another three in a row, as the assassins began to increase their numbers, they did not wait or hide in rows to begin their siege until another before them had died, they came in droves, as their ascension progressed their garb became lighter and clearer than the prior, the black-clothed were the fastest, but the fair cloth was ever treacherous to see, the shades of grey became tinctured of clouds and wind and Loki could begin to see through them. He choked them with their blades and disabled them so that they fell like sacks of grain, twenty enemies were felled before he was pained by a well-placed strike thrown to his side, but another ten before Loki could not commute his anger to hesitation or harder defense, fearing defeat he grabbed a weapon of the nearest assailant, and instantly the training illusion was done. He was back with his patient teacher Arnwald and an amused Lini, a smile to greet him and his wounds, his exhaustion apparent by the sweat on his brow.

Arnwald: "It is fault that separates a thief from a king."
Loki: "I took their life for mine."
Arnwald: "And yet you hold the blade you took, give it to me."

A profound shock and contemplation became the thoughts of Loki as he handed the blade to his instructor, the blade was glass, and water, and air, to make it invisible, as Arnwald peruses the magic contents that hex the blade itself. With inclination Arnwald gives breath to the sword and it became a sharpened steel blade with a wrought iron spine, a slightly curved sword with a lofty handle and light weight. Arnwald tossed it to the ground much to Loki's dismay and discontent heard in a sigh of disbelief and a slight movement of his hand as if a thought to have grabbed it as it shattered on the ground.

Arnwald: "If you would have known your wind spells, you would have been on to the rooks of the Avalon plane, eat, rest. I will send for you Freyja's daughters Hnoss and Gersemi to refresh your knowledge of the wind, until I return from hence a fortnight.

/

Wingless

2011-11-21T12:25:00.000-06:00

The Book of Earth
2- Wingless

A conspiracy brewed in sacred torture of captured bliss sewn silent in treasure and the fiery lakes of hell was to take place as a daily phenomenon of treachery, among the great horrors of hell were minions, among them were the demons, of which one roamed the countryside of Hvamm to bear a message to a certain Valkyrie upon this tale, to which three of her sister approached her as she approached the rendezvous. The demon intended to only meet one who was not a Valkyrie in the forest, scared was the demon and it fought them by throwing branches, it broke boughs and bit spears and hurled them into the air. The Valkyrie tried to avoid dealing death, yet the demon avoided it by suicide, sending the demon directly to acrimonious hell, but not before wounding the Valkyrie messenger. She landed at the demon's burial grounds, as one who only used her magic to send the slain to Valhalla or Folkvangr, she knew neither what had happened nor how to send a body without soul, thus she mourned in solace. With smiles and laughter her sisters flew to the gods leaving her to walk home, careless and irreverent messengers of the wind.

The trees held the sky, the ashes came from the flippant wind, a cold night became a frigid darkness, and the black sky fell upon the leaves so heavily the pressure made them bleed red, but the pillars of life would ill hold upon the darkness from the earth. She roamed the woods of the black forest looking over a demon that was her pet named Illyrius. The soil would not drink the blood, the tears of the ice moon would soon shatter on the darkness and make the glittered stars, and the demon corpse would begin to decay. The Valkyrie flayed her pet and took the heart of steel and hid it, then took the flesh and peeled it, a fire of bones and carrion to cook the meat, and the sharp bones were put into makeshift strap made from the demon's clothes to pierce shadow lords and cloud lizards, daggers from ribs in the holes of a belt. She made campfire in the empty fields of night in the sparse forest in the endless plains.

The Valkyrie ate what she could of the slain demon, but it was little for nourishment, so in the darkness that forms simple humans, and where they make their guises and despise themselves until the sermon of Odin, her wings would be of no use impaled by the demon on the path she planned to take, so she cut her wings from her back. The black blood dripped unto the fertile soil and burned sleek holes through it to the dark star scape on the other side of the earth. Time quickly consumed the feathers, for without life they gave to the autumn effect and cracked behind the teeth. Next she tore the flesh of the demon before it became leather, tearing strips quite too large and eating them like the wolves of the mountains, down the gullet thoughtlessly. Next the muscle and sinew and bone, this was patience acceptable for it was better to be eaten solid and rough, it soon became hardened obsidian and ready to carry. She broke, crumbled and ate the dark powder far better nourishment than anything grown, while walking wearing the garb from the demon to protect her back, without shoes that Valkyrie do not have and demons are forged not to need. She walked step by step on loam, on dust, on leaves, on dirt, on clay, on twigs, on water, on blood, on sand, on ash, on magma, on beach, and on glass. 13 days in 13 steps, how long they felt, finally reaching the mountain, forged of burning tome and the blackened blood of demigods, she stands an altar washed in stardust, where water flowed down for the chattel and the cattle.

The demons of noon appeared from behind, above, before, and from the crags of the mountain, when the Valkyrie took her first step on the bitter cold granite. They were winged rats and bloody wolves from the dark cold hell below the sediment, the Valkyrie had not trespassed on the granite but made insult by walking with the sun above her, for beings in the worlds the hell below and the heavens above, their battle is for middle earth. The lead rat and lead wolf believed emphatic by their world that if breathers do not pray for the sun to leave, that it would burn the earth and scorn it until it dried to resemble hell and so demanded their traditions be honored.

Adlerad: "They are not ever relentless of cultures, that are not here nor there, I am Adlerad, and this Thorolf."
Thorolf: "You will kneel before this mountain and implore it; you will beg the sun to leave."
Adlerad: "It is in your best interest your eyes may not notice, there is no ocean."
Thorolf: "Not that will cool the tortures of the fire."
Valkyrie: "Remind me if I am not bowing before demons."
Adlerad: "You will appease the light bringer, and have not question!"
Valkyrie: "Can you not cool the soil with what lets from the bloody wolf?"
Thorolf: "This blood follows me where I am ravenous and soaks into my skin from my wounds of war and there is always war."
Valkyrie: "Do you not fly to the light bringer and ask it to leave?"
Adlerad: "Scoff, your wishes...one cannot fly to the stars...you will prey or you will become it."

The dusty rat stood on hind legs like a little winged geezer before the Valkyrie, on a pile of ashen soot that was falling from its wings, and the wolf behind the Valkyrie grey and dripping but just as foretold, drawing blood from the ground like thirsty desperate roots, sucking the silt and the dust from the rat's wings.

Adlerad: "Though his fangs do not savor my wishes...I will turn you to ice if you do not comply, so that you may thaw and give spring with the earth."
Valkyrie: "I am well enough to do as you bid, but I wish to do so yonder, on that plateau not hence but paces close."
Adlerad: "...very well...and I will watch, if be that you might stray..."

The Valkyrie spilled from her parcel a portion of her obsidian powder as she walked. The hungering wolf tread over it about to deceive her, the wandering blood merged with the blackened dust and was drawn into the ravenous beast, it began to slow and only felt tired, it began to woe only to have felt mired, it could not speak and began a transformation into an obsidian statue poisoned by hellish demonic death. When the rat demon noticed a great demonic furor began a transformation, the blood grew angry and Adlerad's muscles flared, its talons shined, it sweated a vile poison that burned like sulfuric acid on the stone. The Valkyrie grabbed the rat and forced it to the ground on its back, then stabbed it in the chest, again the throat, many times with the blade fashioned of the demon bone. She stood and held the rat over her head and drank its blood as if it were a wine sack. The shower of blood nourished, the scent of demon flourished, the subservient demonic wolves and winged rats came forth, the wolves retreated at the sight of their leader and his blood turned to stone, the rats chose to attack but stopped once they saw the Valkyrie hold the rat's heart without the acridity burning her skin, to her they were anent merely rats.

The journey continued for the Valkyrie up the mountain, through the jagged edges, to the top of a mountain covered in ice, the rock goblins gradually making their presence known when they are to realize that the Valkyrie is not human and has not faltered by the heights of the mountain. A time of passing is become paused by the interests of the stone warriors hide behind bridges asking questions whose questions if unanswered of thrice attempts are and were considered heinous trespass.

Myr: "You tell the tale, which from the vale, among our wit, you will not flit."
Valkyrie: "...the journey has been long, this is my only song."

The goblins were pleased that the Valkyrie knew and accepted their rhyming ways, despite the time to take and the words it spoke.

Myr: "Where you nary barely go, dare you very rarely know?"
Valkyrie: "...from afar, to the star..."
Myr: "Feckless person giving track, reckless worsen in that sack."
Valkyrie: "oh yes...god bless...fall becoming wary, all that I could carry."

The goblins wanted the sack of obsidian powder from the Valkyrie, and they were pleased to see it, their white eyes bright behind their dark grey skin for a prize they would surely use to make an evil dragon. When the Valkyrie gave the inquisitor the satchel the goblin became covetous, it licked its finger and dabbed the dust then took a taste, a smile of consideration adorned the Valkyrie and her silent patient vigil, then quietly and cautiously the others came to taste, all licking their fingers and tasting, sure to not be wasting. From the darkness of the evening within the shadows of the grey canyon a woman of the goblins approached, not alone encroached not dressed for war, to her the pouch was given in graceful motions in notions. They withdrew into the mountain abandoning the Valkyrie.

The Valkyrie walked over the mountain filled with caves where those with hearts of stone feasted on angels and raised terrible beasts with alchemy, of flesh and desiccated and petrified, a single feather would have revealed her without unbeknownst, the trees were fewer and far between at the heights of the climes of the environs. Tired where the air is thin, unwitting rock goblins sleeping who should be slain beneath the mountain for laziness in their darkness lured by the black ashes of the dead devil, at such haste and touching clouds, the mist is cold and collects on the ground and on her face. At the top of the mountain the endless darkness provides an immortal dawn, in the brisk morn the air shined the twilight of stone, the valley far would not catch the water until hied from the air averse to normal ground. The promise of Asgard deigns the Valkyrie to persist through the stone piled on stone in the greatness of the mountain, be hence the gods of light to dark and sound to stone of raven's wings midair, to where the breaking dawn rests at the top of the mountain before washing the land behind her with light. Hateful songs echo in the hearts of the humans caused by the Gjallarhorn, Hel communicates no parlor of ill repute nor prison condemnation but gathers the damned behind newly raised fortress walls, with a secret message from her spy Illyrius unsent, soon worlds were to collide and the Valkyrie would very much like to have her wings, but first imperatively needed find Thor among the mountains.

Salt the Graves

2011-11-21T12:15:00.001-06:00

The Book of Earth
1- Salt the Graves

All this sight that I’ve carried

Verdict let us out

Dead and blurry inside

Tonight it ends, we are close, my life

Now know this that is haunting, my realm

Deny the ends, later washed away, roses mine

Again I slay, a drip of blood

Now waiting turn of fear, should light lose

The sign has, collapses, enter dark now

Enter soldier, grown to within

I hunt, psycho man

I’m from, sin beside you

My last deafened ear, and together sigh

A dirge from the land below us

Lock is wound, with your tears

By a tribe, losers amass

So men at wars, deep fires of fear

Wishing amputate

Burn my lies, all those my sorrow erase

Again a slave, I dream of here

The waiting, shards of fear, should not mourn

The sickness, collapses, enter dark now

Enter rose hue, rotting within

I march, side of man

I reign, stand beside you

For this deceive you, bound to underside

Lies cold

Super Committee's Prospects for Success Dimming - National Journal Staff - NationalJournal.com

2011-11-20T11:10:00.000-06:00

Super Committee's Prospects for Success Dimming - National Journal Staff - NationalJournal.com

[[[Sen. John Kerry, D-Mass., on Sunday revealed some details about the internal super committee discussions that have led to stalemate, saying that the White House and President Obama had been asked to keep out of deliberations. "They were asked to be hands off," Kerry said on Meet the Press. "The Republicans said, 'Don’t let Obama get into this because it will be political.'" But Kerry added that he's "talked to the White House maybe once a week" on the deliberations anyway.]]]

mjb - this is because it's part of a trilateral process, fool, when the legislative branch subcommittee known as the super-committee has finished their deliberation, then the executive branch can ratify or veto the process, these conspiracies and collusion brought forth by Kerry and other meddlers is what provokes the idea that the super-committee is subversion of the constitution. The federal government comprises three distinct branches of government: a legislative, an executive and a judiciary. Distinctively the legislative branch is itself bicameral, consisting of The House of Representatives and The Senate. The majority of political parties include; democrats = politicians/liberals, republicans = citizens/conservatives, and libertarians = independents/neutralists. /mjb

"Beware the ides of March."

The Frozen Swamps

2011-11-18T23:13:00.001-06:00

The Stars at Hand
Act 1, Scene 2
The Frozen Swamps on P-34r7h

Broken console once worthy as a helm
Cold florescence difficult repairs hence
From memory of distant shelter cove
A sight to see so patiently focus
The words to read with sight at sooner speech
Than stroke of key would soon the script be writ
Lest cold winter take warmth to not be proud
Repairs to this the ship of space en route
The code complete rejoins intelligence
By sound of speaking maps authority
That soon placates a new distinct rebirth
Often correct a nuance font reboots

Computer:
“Please state the system destination now”

Damien:
“System diagnostic, cartography”

Entails the time it takes to run the scan
Moments for the thoughts about his plan

Computer:
“Navigation: off line - degradation”

Damien:
“Of course, I want a damn system repair.”

Diagnostic fault error in the cells
Power builds or conduit is broken
To damage the casing might fatal prove
Better shapeless a hope than broken hull
Swift verity reconnoiter the fuel
Then cabin side pilot of the sunset
To wait surfeit for boredom patiently
Wonder passes soon the sun will dead fall
To hide radiation from solar pane
From magnetic receptor while he sleep
Staring colors the catch of eyes receive
Reprieve in warmth and fear the depth of night
Woken by early dawning dust and snow
A special morning wave of new sunlight
Trickles brook out of summer spring flowing
Close depletion renewed by system star
Algorithm consternation complete
He soon will search the stars of creation
For a respite at lodging for pilots
With hope, his company will be demure
Yet bawdy are the thoughts in compromise
Sweet revelation of his new design
The code inside the wires will take him home

Damien:
Closest populated human planet

Computer:
Brewery, moon, seventy-one leagues

Advice old in nature convincingly
He bids a kiss to a photo pasted
A summoned prayer to the gods this world
Speaking grace a wit of what once was lost
Remit no more wretched journey damage
Bound from surface lift at soon to manage
Asleep to dream in deepest, darkest, space
The mind outside nightmare without a chase

Merlin 2:20 Martyr Art

2011-11-15T12:38:00.001-06:00

Merlin 2:20 “Martyr Art”

While ideologies syllogistic serve chaos espousing pillagers focused on the basic needs of their clan their hatred in resolve to experience denies the individualism they had once intended to protect, an empire built in blood to defy in hypocrisy another. Small fires burn throughout the castle as the stovepipe royal chamber smolders as its ceiling collapses, a slow burn spreads within stone walls to be seen on display from the high dawn skies.

To new unprecedented exploration benevolent colors of retribution, a thrill of pursuit and eagerness of battle, a war concluding and a battle ensuing by cultivar justice, lowered upon the canopy of a morbid forest, the leaves dead and passing beneath the wings in the winds of flash and thrashing, faster by the flicker flames growing at the edges of feathers midflight, in a countryside made unto harvest the spoils of war and the spoiled warriors exploit the benevolent tender.

The endless autumn wind begins bringing a storm in the darkness, the rain in the distance sounds like running horses between the distant clouds and mountains as seen from flight, arrows shot from the wagons miss Nickolas as her guards are ordered to attack him, distant lightning strikes blinding white, the gods must be angry or intrusive, a long pause before the roaring thunder that drives them masked by the dozens of trampling hooves, in their hallow steps the soil already damp glistens, the storm swells leaving the dead leaves and the dirty ground.

From his horse Nickolas sees Etain smiling to him beyond the two riders, Jacobi and Wynn, sent feverishly to kill him, but as he approaches they are dead in their saddle, both with white arrows launched from Troy in the sky, the horses are nearly stopped in their tracks as he passes them. When Etain looks and sees Nickolas pass the defenses she scans the land for a reason, eventually in the air she notices Troy upon the vigorous phoenix, and delirium overwhelms her as she urges her driver to deliberately hasten

Etain: “Move faster or you won’t be coming with us!”

From his horse Nickolas throws a knife at one of the witch’s guards striking him in the throat, the guard tries to leap to him, but his own blood keeps him from a solid footing and falls before the horse being slightly trampled before left to die in the dirt. Etain is keen to watch Nickolas as he throws another knife at her, it misses her as she stares smitten by his heroics, he makes close to the wagon, from the back she toils with him eventually dislodging him from his mount with a spiraling firestorm that grows until it topples he and the horse, she waves as she departs and nods her head in mockery of him, against a secondary battle.

Nickolas looks down the forest road discontent to see Etain look back only once, alive and breathing this is his only response as well. He lays back into the road again, the horse he rode sleeps after being whirled unconscious and thrown to the ground. One of the riders from the two horses dead falls hapless and lifeless to the ground three seconds before the phoenix slams its talons into the road nearby him.

Troy: “Having fun yet?”
Nick: “Scores and dozens, why did you bring the body?”
Troy: “I was going to drop it on the carriage but Merlin has druthers.”
Nick: “This place is evil.”
Troy: “We must protect it.”

Troy dismounts and takes Nickolas’s hand only to painfully join him on the ground, his wounds in the white skin are dry but pierced by blade and bruised by hilt, the blood does not bleed the understanding of which is beyond both of their comprehension, they wait in wonder of what happens at the castle.

The system of political theory organized to prevail in destructive force was underestimated, having as its basis the relation of lord to vassal with all land held in fee and in proclivity the characteristics of homage, yet the service of tenants under arms and in court, peerage, and forfeiture. This palace of mindless self-indulgence after attack of reprehensible violence is worse for wear than a communist cesspool in a nationalist warzone, there is nobody near that is not hiding from something egregious and deviant, thusly revolution fills the hallows of the great hall, the many busy bodies to take space with all else they have ravaged and plundered, there serve the Saracen soldiers remaining by playing the lyre, imparting melody for the witch of the Mist of the echoing vale song, a different homage melody than the gradual homilies of the royalists, with pentatonic scales in lacerating bends of minor tonalities in response to the triumphalism of drovers and shepherds who now are looting the armory.

Indomitable determinism surreptitious of callous irony to confute interlocutors trammeling the apocryphal expostulate, the obtainment of décolletage is in paucity and seems prandial hierarchy, having their fill of confrontation Merlin and Ana leave the castle on the road to find and aid the others. Peregrinations of adventitious complicity whist the drollery, procrustean ice magic behests time itself. The quisling insurrection hath ended and does not follow them.

A horse runs in the distance from a dead body in the road nearly underfoot of the other horse bucking its dead rider so that it may catch the other horse and does so successfully. When they finally meet the others and the phoenix Ana uses her knife to cut the sleeve of one at the shoulder, which reveals a tattoo of a flower just as the one in the castle. Merlin’s eyes see the tattoo and he knows immediately who has brought the destruction.

Merlin: “Was she strong, hot, and tried to kill you?”
Nick: “Yes but Troy is hurt!”

Troy is napping, with every breath his blood seeps in and out with each draw and let of air. When he moves he agonizes and decides against further wrest of tumultuous wroth.

Merlin: “You should have stayed mounted, stitch him up!”
Ana: “With what, Nicolai’s ligature wire?”
Merlin: “Yes, his skin’s leather.”
Nick: “Do you want to tell the rest of us who she is?”
Merlin: “Etain, daughter of Saturn and niece to Loki the trickster.”
Ana: “But you’re a trickster?”
Merlin: “Not as much as he is.”
Troy: “Will we be tracking any of them?”
Merlin: “No, we will make hospice and mend the wounded.”
Nick: “Is that all?”
Merlin: “She is a zealot on vengeful mission, waging war, on the human condition, engages in the destruction of law, volatile and offensive.”
Ana: “Sounds passionate Merlin.”
Merlin: “That’s not the half of it.”

In the distance Halle stands after having hurriedly followed under duress of slowed time, a spell and trek exhausting, but disappears the moment Merlin notices her spying, hoping he dismisses it as notion.

Troy: “This from an inquisitor of unchecked power?”
Ana: “She is a high priestess of fire in a reign of witches having or showing a stoical and unreasoning desire for vengeance.”

Nickolas rises to his feet and dust himself, the daylight sun is bright and shines against the coming storm and a rising moon, what scares children and all philistines of prehistory is no more than an eclipse, but the world without light and a moon discontent with the power over the tides trying to steal the light brings great pain to both Troy who begins to bleed profusely and the phoenix whose radiant colors burst into great aguish flames. Merlin puts all hope in eclipse and looking to the sky counts how long it takes for the moon to pass, as the sun pushes aside the obstruction the pain subsides, mentally and physically. The time of total eclipse was thrice as many digits on one hand but once cleared the phoenix is grown and Troy is stronger though woefully unhealed, the fiery avian hungers for meat and so gnaws on the dead soldier’s boots, Troy staggers to the last green autumn leaves in the sunlight of the sundry path, stripping them stuffing them into his mouth.

Troy: “I may ne’er eat meat again!”

Merlin looks to Troy with confusion, but meanwhile the castle broods with the storm, foregone voices in the mist, foreshadowing it is thither Lynn daughter of Vivienne awaits in the castle at the head of table of the abandoned festivities for a dead king, bodies on the floors and on the table itself, as she eats swine meat with the blackest of wines, staring at a painting of her mother in the hall. By her concise magical ways the background sways but the distal subject without discourse remains lifeless. Halle returns from reconnoiter foreshortened by Etain’s successful escape with grace on display.

Lynn: “I will return to our sister’s chair to her side or in her stead. Follow our brother...indeed, Merlin outstrips, acquiescence, follow him with diligence and temper, we had well be nigh behind his first step.”

Halle: “If he falters in trouble dare I help him?”
Lynn: “…it is your choice; I shan’t miss him if he hangs from cordon the same as she upon him.”
Halle: “You should raid this antique dungeon, course upon the main, and then sink it.”
Lynn: “Your man Ophiuchus stands behind you.”

Indeed, he had slithered in behind her as if he had powers of his own, desperately silent, mystically violent, arcane be not forsooth upon the same.

Ophiuchus: “Your man Merlin arrives shortly.”
Lynn: (Sigh) “Then I am loath of this place.”

Lynn floats to her sister and they place palms together, an eternal vigil they share one last thought and separate, she floats to the door as smoke swirls hiding her extant exit .

Lynn: “I bid farewell in peace.”

Lynn turns into dissipating vapors within the smoke that hides her, Halle turns to Ophiuchus and puts her arms around his neck.

Halle: “Do not let the wizard know of our presence here…or I’ll turn more than your heart blue.”

She kisses him and he smiles before parting, Ophiuchus leaves for the shadows as she vanishes.

No surprise

2011-11-09T01:39:00.001-06:00

[ mjb <----->; "imperative that Congress be free to forge national solutions to national problems", is nazi mentality. "seems to us a political judgment rather than a recognition of constitutional limitations" is blatant hypocrisy by example of bias as he writes "seems to us" but not all Americans, or the ones he/she doesn't like. the oppositional tenet is not regarding the burgeoning mandate, but that the mandate is unconstitutional, by contention of the first amendment and the fourteenth. wherein the Due Process Clause prohibits state and local government from depriving persons of life, liberty, or property without certain steps being taken to ensure fairness. this quintessentially includes any mandate for any purchase, whereas fairness is not achieved to persons conscripted to care when "welfare state" has the option to not use state healthcare services, and by having a welfare state the fairness of choice not afforded, thereby the offense to the first amendment, would logically dispose the fair government action for healthcare be an introduction of socialized-medicine, (such as National Health Service for example) and not the mandate. this fascist judge should be impeached, liberal is another word for radical, socialist is another word for communist. <-------> /mjb ]

Blog: No surprise: Liberal appeals court upholds Obamacare legality:
by Rick Moran

The judge who handed down this decision was appointed by Bush #41 and his opinion is a recipe for eventual servitude:

"The right to be free from federal regulation is not absolute, and yields to the imperative that Congress be free to forge national solutions to national problems, no matter how local -- or seemingly passive -- their individual origins," he wrote. The fact that Congress may have never issued an individual mandate to purchase something before, a central argument for many opposing the law, "seems to us a political judgment rather than a recognition of constitutional limitations," he wrote.

This is what passes for learned opinion in the courts these days. A "political judgment?" If there was ever a constitutional question to be decided, it is with the mandate. And how about that strawman argument with regards to federal regulation? Who said anything anywhere about being "free" of federal regulation? The argument is that the regulation goes too far - a simple concept that escaped this idiot judge.
Brace yourself for some bad news from SCOTUS on Obamacare. Historically, the Supremes look very closely at appellate decisions for guidance. The tally is not good - 3 out of 5 appeals cases have come down in favor of Obamacare. This does not bode well for the case now before the Supreme Court.

Read more: http://www.americanthinker.com/blog/2011/11/no_surprise_liberal_appeals_court_upholds_obamacare_legality.html#ixzz1dBvKrqR0

"Who said anything anywhere about being "free" of federal regulation?"

Capitalism by Example

2011-11-06T21:41:00.000-06:00

In this discussion you will be debatingthe ways to handle installing software in Linux, comparing it to other OSmethods such as application stores and standalone install files. Make sure thefollowing are answered (using at least 200 words):

What advantages and disadvantages do you feel a repository offers compared to other installation methods?
Why do you think other OSes do not use this?
How do you feel Linux handles non-repository installs compared to other operating systems?

---------------------------- My Answer: ⊇ ----------------------------

Concerning repositories whileinstalling software my logic of thought brings me to two separate analyticalopinions. As you know a repository is used to download software for an operatingsystem, Linux specifically uses repositories for updating software includedwith each distribution. For this the software is located and downloaded if theversion is new. The process for the *yum command is manual, but can bescheduled into an automation process. I am hesitant to say repositories aregood or bad, in Linux applications are downloaded or updated, but the proposedquestion, “Why do you think other OSes don’t use this?” seems to overlook thatWindows does use an update service. Whereas Linux offers files from repositorytheir continual presence in the repository rests with demand, verbose or by notabledownload amounts, notoriety becomes a defining factor instead of demand. Thedevelopment of coded applications eventually becomes required learning, whichLinux rightfully provides the opportunity as expectant users of competingoperating systems might feel an entitlement. Many programs, herein Linux andWindows, have scheduled update discovery events to look for new software orexploit consumerists with an update only designed to advertise a new service.Linux proprietary software develops in a natural state, existence by necessity,the ‘no need to reinvent the wheel’ idiom, as a flood of useless softwarebombards consumers who merely need one that works. Therein I believe is thesole flaw of open-source, the developers are open agents who may take exodusfrom one project to another, to which the idiot-proof Windows Updaterepositories offer the “bigger is better” solution that commercial interestsrequire and are given despite which developer is the acting functionary.Examples: Red Hat, Apple, Oracle, Cisco, all are proprietary systems, amongothers, that have software repositories.

The choice is by consumer on a caseby case basis, learning Linux allows you to support Linux and at the same timeknow more about it to not have to wait for tech support to help. Then you canteach others the sustainability.

Occupy

2011-11-03T14:15:00.000-05:00

Communism is not the place of safety that teen angst thinks it is, its fascism creates ghettos, its autocracy creates slavery, and its inhumanity creates suffering. Simply put, communism kills all who do not turn to evil for their survival. Pure evil.

The only applicants to communism are the tripe and diatribe that cannot ween, whether it be freedom from the womb or warden, they fear liberty. The famous quote resurfaced is, "all power to the communes" for all it's isolationist worth, because the are nested and suckling adolescents despite their age. The practice of which is hedonistic and feudal (viral), imagine a policy of desire consuming naturalism, if it cannot consume any host the regiment must punish the standard of living to evade persecution, it will consume itself. The story old as time told thru the generations desperate for power that they cannot have nor wield has been the claims of order in the darkness. Dystopian government will choose your occupation, you cannot be what ever you want to be, from an early age your fate is determined by the state and never altered, for the name of progress you will never study again, whether you can or are more skilled to do other things, and your complaints against the state will be met with first compelling interrogation, then torture, and if the latter, likely death.

Mandated consumption and legislative socialism are blights on society, parasitic, and promotes fiendish mental disorder, without the competition of the free market industrial and commercial innovation dies, creativity suffers in a society that punishes success and celebration by limiting practices or taxing luxury. The communists who hate money take it from you, the wage slavery and racist inequalities beset by trivialities begin, work becomes doldrums as accomplishment is not appreciated or reimbursed, patriotism becomes stitched on your pillow in the shape of your slave tools, and then you die.

In the past to appease bureaucracy and the disillusioned, communist federations have starved entire countries, in others we see cannibalism, communism throughout history has never worked, because it means starvation. I cant say forever, but civility is a fine substitution for it, if you don't like capitalism.

As a civilian, realize that we are not living on an overpopulated planet, desalination factories will provide new land of the two-thirds of surface water in the later years, some places are dense, but so are the people. If the brood kills themselves, the gods will laugh and recommence. The environment is our only warden, recycle everything, clear bottles can be made from food refuse, all plastic can be recycled despite the rumors and apathy, try to remain descent guests and remember plants thrive on carbon, the toxins are what kills plants and animals. Foreign relations can't get any worse with people who are trying to kill you, war isn't any different. Outside and beyond politics the freedom of choice is essential, the innate flaw of a small portion of communists hoping to be elite and better than other intellectuals, wars are fought and lost by those who will never see the benefits of slavery.

Starvation in capitalism comes from alternative decisions morally unconscionable, the insane and the addicts roam unattended because bureaucracy is merely waiting for the support or the disappearance by suitable unknown causes. As communism subsidizes failure it creates unattainable necessities in education, housing, and health, that eventually not even a soldier's salary can compensate to afford. Wherein communism opens the door to democracy when the world is a cesspool, socialism turns success into an unhealthy addiction and consumerism prevents escape.

A life is lived free, the time is not. From this nothing in life is free, the things we find to be free are our vices, our devotion is emotion which despotism kills. In the oeuvre of archetype is emotion to which anger is a byproduct, it cannot be wielded, use logic, live long and prosper. To err is human, to error is anybody's guess.

Early forms of communism and agents provocateur begin with the bribery, they tell you that communism has never been accomplished because of flawed participants and lack of funding, pyramid schemes or investment scams, that need one more servant or one more supplier, a flawed system seeking another victim, when in fact it has been done, the structure of colony supplants the metaphor, drones worked until death, slower and stupider battlers, and a monarch, this is the ant colony of theocracy. The common misconception is wage disparity instead of wealth despair, what we cannot do ourselves we teach the future so that society may flourish, these conservative principles can be combative, but the betterment of society thrives while the dogmatic complex of droning decimates acuity each generation.

Competition aids development until unappreciated, in communism there is no individual thus there shall never be a winner, only exploitation and thieves. Without experience individuality suffers great loses to envy which creates further propagation of constitutional socialism and fascism. Distinguishable ethics are replaced by the self segregated anarchists who cause class warfare, or political destitution and moral depravity as a result of psychosomatic abandonment, which is better known/identified as isolation paranoia. As the liberal wants socializing and community it is easy to be fooled by despotism with familiar names, similar to when a democratic strategist is part of an event solely for the benefit of democrats. By definition a democratic strategist asks what the topic is from all parties involved, like a conscientious drone, because adjective can't be the noun, or perhaps inventory from the many voices in their heads.

Misery loves company and communism has plenty of it, the belief that competition creates adversaries is, cynical, spiteful, and not that of a conservative teacher. The other end of the spectrum provides liberal teachers, which are the equivalent to the passing advertisements of commercialism. Liberalism is good for the arts if you consider the many artists who painted those signs, who themselves are outdated by information en masse. Possessions are fleeting, in nature and by nurture, beasts cannot horde fortune or leave wealth in a will, it is the entrepreneur that has stolen it's prey or grazed its plant life but it is their ability, wisdom, logic, and actions that they possess.

Until ignorance is educated schools of thought will remain cesspools of failure, as elitists fight industrialism turmoil builds, poor become scapegoats for communism, and the successful are vilified for injustices that only anarchists create but also ignore, because if hell can be given clemency the devil gets a free ride.

77

2011-11-03T01:13:00.000-05:00

Radical Muslims Demand DOJ Make Criticizing Islam a Crime « The Foxhole

1. fuck
2. you
3. islam is for fags, who eat shit, then swim in their own shit, while dreaming of swimming in steamier shit.
4. pigs are better than muslims
5. IEATSARACEN
6. allah is the arabic word for god, which one i don't know yet
7. all terrorists go to hell, or if you like, you can go to hell.
8. satan told me that "the west" is "a generalization, but not the great satan" and "what the fuck, what am i chop liver?"
9. muslim women who wear burkas are really men, or they just look like men
10. the koran is plaigarism of sun tsu's Art of War, and is a great way to wipe your ass
11. people will stop killing terrorists when they quit acting like terrorists, all muslims are terrorists
12. not everything written is true
13. the people who practice islam share a brain
14. pork is a delicious appetizer when drinking blood from a skull
15. halloween is new year's eve, AND april fools day is new year's day
16. the kaaba cube is an ancient hindu temple
17. mecca is full of filthy whores
18. mecca is also a bacon store in the valley of the shadow of death-ville
19. virgins don't go to heaven, they get a do over.
20. debauchery and nudity is funner than polo with a goat's head
21. alcohol is AWESOMENESS-SPECTACULAR-EXTRAVAGANT
22. god is the english word for your god, dont tell me how to speak my language, like many english words it's sorta on the nose.
23. for freedom, and common law i will die a thousand times to end slavery.
24. radical islam looks a lot like communism, but so does communism
25. on my things-to-do-list, none of them are walk to the desert, do you call it holey because the water left?
26. i will not take a prostrate exam five times a day!
27. i read your holy book of war poems and hate crimes and i refuse to believe you invented Moses.
28. if or when i'm reincarnated, i'll be promoted to what the queen demands or demoted to be an inbred desert rat.
29. opinions are like assholes, puritans smell like shit
30. jesus is in a Mexican cartel, and mohamed drives him around in a cab
31. if you hate me, i want you to tell me, i implore you not be senile, because i hate religiosity
32. the muslims were first to call me Caucasian, but i think North has a better sound to it.
33. did you know infidel in English means 'one who eats cooked pork then dedicates on a muslim grave'?
34. defeating "western imperialism" with islamic imperialism is hypocritical irony.
35. when you close your refrigerator door, a pig fucks your hummus.
36. I just got back from hell, hitler still thinks you're a jew
37. when your country bans heavy metal music, you have shit for brains.
38. for every muslim in the world, there are two homosexual muslims butt fucking.
39. you can run, but you can't hide
40. religious freedom includes atheism (no i don't want anymore pamphlets!)
41. everyone should commit apostasy when they wake in the morning
42.
43. during sodomy, people think your mom, fucking a pig in a mosque
44. anti-capitalist information is the motivation for sweaty-butt-sex
45. people draw pictures of Muhammad all the time, you just can't see them!
46. if you're reading this, there's a 50/50 chance you're an infidel to logic
47. no one in all of time and space has ever used "islam" as slang for anything good
48. islam is however another word for shitting in a dirty hole, not to be confuse with islam's sexually repressed 'culture'
49. i once ate a pig while it was still alive, the conversation was thrilling
50. mtv doesn't play good music anymore(#headbangersball), even if your country's name is after the letters
51. the entire world just had a vote, we're no longer taking sex slaves from muslim countries.
52. if you marry more than one woman, there's a big chance your not heterosexual.
53. foreign words are considerate, foreign accents get annoying, mooks
54. when the gods have dinner, muhammed gets the golden shower
55. religious naivety is not a cure for cruelty, islam blinds you with truth that is a lie
56. i just remembered reading your unholy book, you didn't invent the mountains
57. bacon, ham, sausage, pizza trinity
58. if you're pretty enough, you can have sex in public
59. rock'n'roll will save your soul
60. arab music is modest, but the rest of the world uses instruments
61. (general rule) enslaving people to drugs is wrong.
62. "the jews" are not the enemy, the bad ones are, and besides, hitler is so passe, you can ask him later.
63. if your religion is The Order of Special Hats ; Americans are always going to laugh at you
64. when vampires go to a muslim bloodbank, they ask for their money back
65. islam is autocracy
66. is Mecca copyrighted, or can i open one in phoenix on route 66?
67. if you don't look under the burka, you might be fucking a muslim man
68. jesus had superpowers, muhammed was a shitty poet,
69. if you believe everything you read, YOU SUCK
70. the devil sold his soul for rocknroll, muslims do it to fuck their sisters
71. satan is muslim
72. generalizations aren't accurate, unless you say that you're better than every muslim
73. if muslims invented the world, why did they invent the west?
74. muslims haven't discovered dignity
75. i know nothing about the muslim world, but in pictures it always looks like the valley of the shadow of death
76. the arab world is an arid one, ironic how their women are so frigid toward the men that they have to trap them in quantities.
77. women are smarter than men

Merlin 2:19 The Saracen Empress

2011-10-30T18:53:00.000-05:00

Merlin 2:19 “The Saracen Empress”

The sin and sacrifice is worth without use, the worst of worthless withal, wherewithal pensive recompense intense to fray forayed thru present tense into the tenets of penury foraged for naught but successfully reckless abandon in the midland. The dregs of society have virtue in their blood and sweat on their brow, just as wives tend to sows there are men to guide the plows in the fields, and from the rows where the crop grows a forest to foliage for the fowl and fawn, royal and of utmost regency in the realm. In passing a covetous spell hastily cast has to and fro come and gone disparate to magic of instance, insomuch, saving the fields from fire offended the cumbersome manna, which endeavors henceforth Merlin’s retirement a slighted recovery all the same.

For this the myriad wizard wears a pointed hat with the garret hanging toward his nape accompanying a wide soft brim around his head that hides his eyes of countenance and exhaustion. Slouched and low in the saddle he rustles with the slow gait of the horse, both with little more than flighty instinct.

More endeavoring is the pert Troy, a skin of white taught of leather drawn and dried over bones and borne, without stitch or seam or wrinkle betwixt the outmost, an utmost zeal skeins of vitriol and vitality, he walks without tiring pace for pace with the others who are mounted upon trusty steed. Fade does every quarrel of party and perception around the binary fixture that are the couple betrothing, an invincible candle and a tawdry firebrand. The phoenix remains unnamed the same, playful and irreverent with obedient dissonance for whitened Troy as its master and furtive with Ana’s tarry of torrid fiery avocations, a luck of haste by fate that the gallant bird ever quite larger than the days prior often does not eat even the slightest scraps, unfettered by reluctance if ushered, but the flora grows without patience in its valiant presence.

Complicit to the growth of any plant asunder heavens rays of days with nights that rain, as well complains and squawks in feign, complete to nourish, for the meals are scarce at summer’s nigh wry, with respect to the cats and the crows pillaging their prey the dark is growing most and the days are not in the autumn effect.

In the distance thru the tallest shadow spires and the most golden sunlight desires an axe canst be heard with concatenate echoes explicably drawing attention, a clearing in the tallest trees, a distant morning star becomes the breeze that beacons brightly heavy over this forest of conifer, without other tree once removed a hearty man chops a tree felled by time.

Merlin: “How do you do?”
Woodsman: “How do you do.”
Merlin: “How goes you by your town lad?”
Woodsman: “Oh…keen ’bout a league by steed or three by feet of your pale friend, the path is old and the steps are new.”

The woodsman leers with his hand over his eyes to block the sun as he leans to better see Troy, hiding in his hood in this foreign wood.

Nick: “Wherefore this log, canst thou spy a forest for the trees?”
Woodsman: “Better practice heretofore not a lattice, thence of better roots, by order this kindred kindling.”
Ana: “To thence your town?”
Woodsman: “Yon,” he begins to point “over…damnation!”

The woodsman in happenstance has made his glance an awestruck poring, spotting the phoenix tall as he in the distance smaller, yet formidable by dearth of muscular poise. Differently displayed concerned of contempt, an avid bloody fire with gleaming orange now radiates not, a smoldering ash color with raven afterfeather down, fill mix of river clay and nightshade, protection from the predator armies that can see in color.

Troy: “…It doesn’t like you to stare.”
Woodsman: “A thousand apologies, my task is errand a felled tree to fuel the fete, unbeknownst ignorance my lieges.”
Merlin: “Good a party.”
Woodsman: “I hadn’t thought more than whit, waiting for the wagons, seemed thee only foreigners.”
Ana: “Where is the castle boy!?”
Woodsman: “Yon two creeks often straight ere the way, on right the river path the same cathedral.”
Merlin: “Very good, elder.”
Woodsman: “By your leave your graces.”

The woodsman bows as they slowly walk anew toward forward through the clearing into the woods again and with what they trek toward the beaten path, Merlin still low brow in the sunset but ad caveat his affluence, a gold coin tossed with a sound of spin against his thumbnail in the cusp of the wind lands in the tall glade grass. In the deep of forest they witness measure of the old ways, with crudity athwart the border’s edge the actions of an old religion has put decedents in the trees, wise of their wit to worship the crows that warn of the need to repel borders.

A town nearing city size surrounds a castle without high wall, years of encampment built upon it surround, a suffrage nonetheless practical of commerce between the cathedral and the lands, capital gains have escaped only descent paths, any affront on the bastion would need to first navigate the jagged town roads that surround a fanciful fortitude. Daggers of arrows and hammers of axes thwart innate serene dexterity with tabular and flank confrontation, but in silence and inaction, the town is near vacant lest to task without cede, scallions and drunkards remnant due to the elsewhere wedding ceremony. For at this very moment the Saracen witch Etain, called upon by name Eden under fiat has just married King Ragnar son of Roeke, for this to which they stand upon the outward balcony of the high court in praise and appraisal of love’s revival over most lavishly coiffed subjects celebratory among the festivities, festooned with joyous resolve. A slight of the pastures as they turn inside for their preparations before the gala, in the fields at the trees by the passing time Merlin and the wayward others travail good speed, unseen by the newly crowned Saracen empress.

The rote commencement is an eschewing temporal behavior as a young display of dandy patriotism, a field of political neophytes and perennial succors resenting contest of elitism socializing with each other.

Merlin: “The old youthful tiresome rouse.”
Ana: “But Merle, you’re young!”

In a grand hall for the purpose of festivities he turns-about, the mirrors on the heavy doors reveal potency from the days of potion and rest, his beard gone, his hair short, observing the treasures of gold and gems as so many bricks and pebbles, looking upon the finest silken robes as tattered rags, he shakes himself from his wayfarer garb. What falls to the floor is a stipend of fashion, turned invective less than a modicum he wears a white cloth attire befit the enterprise of his youth, the seams and hems leather unintentionally, a remnant of his haste.

Posterior hokum finds him brushing the strips clean of his clothes, in prideful artifice magically pulling a glass of Chardonnay from the shadows behind his back and a rose from behind his hand, swooning the first unattended maiden he might chat and flirt, she takes the glass from him, drinks it, and throws it to the floor his whisper randy enough to make her blush, he tosses the flower to the floor as they begin an intimacy that would probably make the nearby children blush if the scene were not grandiose with dancing and festivities in the homiletic concerted fete, too fast to enjoy the accord or perish the thought, as they are lifted and drift into the tall curtains of the balcony. Late arriving, Troy enters dressed as ever the same but without the burlap, staunchly resembling a tenured baron whom at first site each distal servant brings him salver upon drinks resting to be his sate. He passes through them eager to drink, feast, and jest.

Nick: “Coat room?”
Ana: “Cloak room.”
Nick: “We need coats for the next trick.”
Ana: “Aye love.”

The servants are young and strong, soldiers of the realm as spies of the event in servant disguise, the ink beneath their skin looks as vines and leaves of myrtle peering over collars and sleeves. The lush inebriation of debasement proper to the personations of deputation, it were scruple leavened into privy vehement resulting in the exeunt of drunkard hast warrant when their shoes slip the floor in steps that their minds hath not made. A life of promiscuity of ideals, the dolorous old maids and nubile lasses, of kings and townies and tapsters surfeit, stupendous drinking in the face of the very law decreed in the cathedral paces beyond the hall as if it were the zodiac year’s eve of Hallowmas. As the generations soak the sin, biting laws athwart, strike and gall the constituents of evil votaries shouting ‘ho’ and ‘huzzah’, in the presence of the prioress. Essayed, justly storming into solitude, foist assays in parcel bawd, varlets, varmint and vermin, question of drabs that are in low service to the king.

A sleek and suspicious lot whom forego unknowing as to his knights are not the best of liked by the servants. The anger shows itself to Ana and Nickolas who cannot intervene at first sighting. Approach them to the cloak room, in passing by the gift hall, knave knights with buckler swords and halberds block the doors to priories and private abode and servants approach them to seek their gifts so that they may place them, upon receive gracefully amended to the collection.

Knave: “His majesty is glad to have your presence.”
Nick: “Without doubt I’m sure, just are we to have been so well received.”

The servant stands in leering wait, without adieu but amassing swallowed reluctance Nickolas pilfers his own vestment for his silver.

Nick: “I’ve given him my third cousin’s land, but since I love him so, you can toss this to the lot.”
Ana: “Ever the prosperous yet generous my lord.”
Knave: “Excellent sir.”
Nick: “We’ve lost the guest room good boy.”
Knave: “That way sir passed the cloak room.”

The couple departs, leaving unbearably fashionable with Nickolas, a better of fair weather thieves, needing consolation for posthumous donation, behind them the knave peeks into the pouch to see the silver only to stop by fear when one of the guards puts his hand to his sword and scornfully shakes his head. To the cloakroom they go and at arrival ask from the door for the largest fur coats in the room, when questioned Nickolas hops the half-door and takes to threat by knife and neck, insisting upon compliance that she be given her coat first, than he of delayed modest selection. It is off for them in elusive retreat to private quarters.

Entreat anent by the queen’s hap, as inked servants attend the guests in slacking primness, Etain acts not as the convulsive involuntary startling of a surprised person, but a despondent listless queen excellently blending into a scene where lieges often seem disappointed by luxury and condescending without their fascinations. Drinks a plenty the floor if full of talkers and quibblers, the paths to the recesses of the gala are rank with patronage, and the balcony set full of the royals enthralled by factitious cares and superfluously coarse labors of fete, consumed by haste in effort to prove they have never learned what pride is. The servile minions are too busy to talk poring and pouring as ardent support who in the benefit of doubt initiated recruitment of sociable interests with cordials, delicate handling thus tender treatment whetted slough.

King: “Lest there be another desire of yours I would like to make a toast.”
Etain: “As if you could kill time without injuring eternity my love."

Etain smiles and offers her hand to his and rises to put an arm around his front and the other behind him and stands with him as they approach the balcony. The distant thoughts and meditations are interrupted moments before the king takes to the balcony, magic candles that cannot expire by slow gusts of wind and the potion of concoction full of charm he sermons a melody of hill and dale.

King: “Hardly so well, the worlds of ages, nay, repentant an irresistible voice inviting into the shadows…” a silence calms the crowd, “on alert nigh, reverencing amassed spectacle, trouble and anxiety through the midst of an outlying civilization is a gross misconception, had there been a need for improvements to this kingdom I would not have wed Etain, whose love beckons me as her beauty slays me,” he admires her for a moment, “and now I ask you to drink to the health of the Queen.”

Etain with a respect for modesty bows courteously to the crowd, which greatly pleases them, she joins him close at the railing with her hand beneath his, a confusing look of pity and pithy crosses her face as he begins to speak.

King: “We must enjoy these times afforded to those who destroy the savageness poverty philosophy would not fend for life and not till, impurity usurped by our hardiness, which I’m sure our intellect is wont to complain as the night ensues, but you are my guests, we need music for these festivities to continue!”

At the first note wherefore the music resumes the gala rejoices and cheers of ‘huzzah’ goes once around from his knights, and the robust joy fills the walls while the balcony holds the first dance of newlyweds. Courtiers and kinships of mere conformity, possibly the progenitors of a nobler race enervates the rich food, the grandeur of splendid ornament, finer and more abundant lavish rags than the wedding dresses of pagans, numerous intrepid fires and incessant superfluities of a gauche toil and pillage. The fruit below heaven in the air and light, golden on the autumn afternoon and warm within the hall, esculents dross thus confined of magnificent and costly bonds and lash, pardoned obscurities and subtle infirmities that match the enterprises of tyrants and young maidens assisted the colloquialism circumspect by this new advantage of the state that holds a reluctant place in hearts of fealty.

A castle of courtesy and collegians promenade as Merlin and the dame caress in the field, eating fruits, chatting and peeling layers with few cares. The moonlight is high and the fire low while the quiet night air surrounds the castle through which the windows reveal all, their wealth having sold interest to themselves watched by their inevitable demise. Intelligence reports of the public are surely sewn, the city dwellers are at the fest being watched by the servants or sleeping in the city under guard of their fellows. The manna dissolved in the day’s sun fills the air and fuels the fires, unrelievedly in parity she dances appearing happy as a charlatan leader of a violent caste, a jovial clan from moonlit bravery of plundering raids through the countryside for many twelvemonths, the thoughts of which flash Etain’s mind. She dances in whimsical patterns of dissident dismay as her beastly counterparts in black ties and trimmed attires are draped in flattened wear carrying horderves with sharply flat wares close beneath their bodice, tattoos beneath their hair almost blending into pitch nature.

Areal barbarous adversaries are many in numbers and growing impatient, covered in cape or gown, and leather ties as seems of lively armor, wicked wielders fortified in primal fear, in turn formerly almost solely time in eternity yearning boughs of fortune, suspicious eyes for vicious lies. The servants watching at the cadre of breathtaking soldiers of fortune, born in the years of earned hated by the keepers of hollow ground, the temporary luster of cadence and riddles weighing heavy on the hearts of insurrection. Fury and disgrace masked by ceremonies of cant and wont indelibility’s mercantilism. In the fields where shepherds foster and fields prosper, lodging in the field watching nothing of the night that ravens often gather and have upon a separate yore, with something odd afoot it is not likely. Inner solemnity of all saints rests with better faction pedantically anent their impatience.

A wall curves toward the main floor holding embraced banisters of two stairways lee to the balcony that addresses beyond the king’s quarters, from there the effeminate wives and surly yeomen occupy couches and sofas, drinking private reserves of scotch and other blends, adorned by clothes brightly soaked in blood, lavender, honey, and jade.

And so with the pronouncements of civilization and society combined on this day of days approaches Milton, behind him follows Claus and Ryan.

Claus: “We must make them by this.”
Milton: “There are spies among tonight’s audience.”
Ragnar: “Then bring them to my quarters.”

King Ragnar clumsily spilled red wine as his cup hit the leather map on the oak ring cut table.

Ryan: “I’m afraid there are too many to compel, my liege.”
Ragnar: “You’re surely saying that you cannot make them purchase the campaign.”

The lieutenant royalist’s pauses fill of apprehensions as the regent king twists to serve his thirst uninhibited by full sobriety.

Ragnar: “Platitudes if ever…with even a few violent ragtag still out there, it is unfounded in principle?”
Clause: “It bears certain that two small ones where I list between here and Celadon, had come to see tither who is here hard by, and I have felled them in the shadows, here they carried these sod awful potato daggers.”

Ragnar gave his kingly duty to overtly fight the danger, he gracefully pointed to another place on the map for his royal mercenary guards in the room in the brisk shadow silence.

Ragnar: “I wish to try not getting between people and their principles,” he speaks with his finger on a path from the map, “then we will make them another way both sides like heavy flank, Royce have them show you from the tower side, and I will slay from the chapel.”

The leader of the private guard motioned, and the sentries in the room hustle and tighten their gauntlets as the door closes, instantly the silence was shaking with intensity light the avid lightning caught fettered in mist. The kings flak jacket adorned the voice of Etain speaks to him as he takes up his sword.

Etain: “You’ll learn of the error of your false reality!”
Ragnar: “Nonsense my love, they will be forcibly removed through the large doors,” his sleeves into leather riding armor, “so that their coward allies waiting in the fields will see them in the trees and you will go to safety. I will be fine and return to your salaciously lures of me and my fate.”

Etain snapped her fingers and the sitting servants, young men and women, spousal and obsequious, rise and attack the king’s men only to take the weapons of their victims and turn attentive to Ragnar. The conspiratorial totalitarian is removed from the scene and put to the reality that lies before him, known are his allies and his foes with only the latter to know reprieve.

Etain: “Walk with me in hell?”
Wynn: “What should we do with him?”

Etain’s fingers flame, noting that she would do her worst and a devilish smile of content. Ere a fall man heretofore ken liken to salvation in his own eyes an old tyrant with truant malevolent spirit had turned a new leaf only to have it burned by the autumn witch, and the king’s trust having betrayed him

Etain: “Mine behest of evil methinks refrain twixt to say lest decry, nor corrupt mine ears, nor desecrate mine eyes to humor zealous vanity.”
Ragnar: “Guard your troves, alas, immortal evils only sleep.”
Etain: “Impious Pharisee, intent to crucify, seeking fresh martyr, and a desperate blamer covered in lavish possession, your moments are now few.”
Ragnar: “Sanctimonious treachery ekes from the mistaken heartlessness of the sinister sedition & occult anarchy, arcane prey waxes sacrifice.”
Etain: “In the shadows of flowers the sunlight is dying.”
Ragnar: “Hemlock will poison thine soul, shadows will damage thine mind…dark matter consumes the firelight, to see the forest for the trees.”
Etain: “Your slaughtering hunting methinks, 'tis reminiscential thence olden Salem witch trials.”

His hope eternal burns in limbo as her treason punishes the warlord deceitfully as she begins citing she slides across the floor as if thin air to block his escape then speaking into his eyes as she drifts to his dismay.

Etain: “Your worthless warmongering, extortion of courage to placate the girthing vassals, for the widows given orphans and fathers made bastards, to what you hoped was the exodus of magic in your persecution.”
Ragnar: “By path of the spirits wild of idle worlds, for you are most wicked feiticeira.”
Etain: “A fire to life guiding these Saracen and a life to fire you were not going to fulfill.”
Ragnar: “…I beseech thanking a thousand times for every deviant bastard slain…bruja…wrach…”

Etain points fingers from each hand to her henchmen Wynn and Jacobi and the others and then to the king, her assassins hold the king’s arms though he struggles in valence, the closed and isolated room with heavy curtains keeping the king from his communists and courtesans asleep or dead in the city, as he pleads she does not listen, but thusly tells him his felony.

Etain: “For you our bid will be death. For your sedition you will forever be shunned in the hearts & halls of the honored fallen, there's no honor among thieves, even if idolaters. Immense power and sinister motive is the only truth of a liar. There is no honor amongst criminals. What good is power if you don't know how to use it?”
Ragnar: “The false society of men, for earthly greatness, all heavenly comforts rarefy to air."
Etain: “What if I were to burn it?”
Ragnar: “But I have created this great palace!”
Etain: “If only it were so easy to create noble men and kings...kill him”

An arrow lets from bow and line into the king but her dagger to open his neck hammered as others hold him, the widowing empress walks and sets afire to all she touches and more out of physical reach, until there is nothing but gasping walls and windows bathed in sacred fire, and then she burns it. Jacobi as archer holds the king’s bow as he walks to the burning curtain, he pulls aside the brazen fabric without worry of fire ever damaging him and he ties a strip of cloth while it burns in his hands, around the arrowhead and fires it from the window into the city. The empirical bloodshed glares illustriously on her face among the growing flames and glaring eyes.

Jacobi: “Something taken is soon earned, spell caster.”

The king lies dead and striving to breathe through the blood and the broken heart, Etain still seems in torpor, her order is a chaos long in the making.

Etain: “The return said and done that relies on this affair…the fires of Saturn share sympathy for our strife…we now burn this depraved hall.”

Her dream is an identity in a fantasy a complicit heresy to reality, oft entreat to gather even then, lower than yon abatement to defeat greed with swathes of irony, the wiles of the libertine's decay on display and reckless henceforth bequeathed of disparately fated path with sickly desire at wit's end transgresses logic, hypocrisy and lunacy by fanatics of a heresy met with contempt found solely anon doth not trace the deepest betrayal. The winds of orison flee this trouble cast on shadows of good deeds and good doers as the servants of haute insurrection begin the pernicious fetch of avocation ignoble and battle dost the arrant knights of errand fealty to the despot in extremity. A powerful lack of wit they fight for regency against a new reign of old rein that knows not how many they fight for freedom.

The chaos begins on the proclivities, as the king’s men who can escape entanglement of the invasion chase Etain but she holds out the palm of her hand and a fire leaps from her hand, an arcane fire skirmishing when Ana finds Etain in the ballroom. Ana an ancient spellbinder is a firebrand, but Etain burns the flammable drinks and explodes every bottle and keg, serving as distraction to escape through the shrapnel and smoke. An abetted soi-disant invective in a sordid approach, a storm with the air of chaos, with one battle cry and one scream from across the room knells the groupthink into panic, the infantile dichotomous thinking cotton to disapprobation. Only tyranny grows in the passages of blood, the children more so to escape as their parents in conservative measures are felled as martyrs consigned to share the king’s fate.

Troy has been outside on a bet for coin tosses by the stables, which proved a fight of drunken men fortunately he has won and now drinks comradely with both the spies and liars. In the reaped fields where corn once stood Halle passes, her aura frightens the stately phoenix as she goes unnoticed, passing hidden behind things of stables and boarded walls through the fodder. As Troy jovially rejoices the master of ceremonies, he and his phoenix friend have an articulation beyond deciphering but visibly warm and cordial but the slight ovum of ash, as any rider would embellish their fond steed. Acquainted with disaster the insurgent ones hold the conversation by fascinatedly tethered fetters of a solemn grave yard shadow that walks the night earth. The signal of the fiery massacre brings about allies contaminating with deeds of darkness, expiating threnodies of secrecy, and thence their movement circumvents the castle perimeter to the stables whilst two Saracen soldiers approach steadfast.

Sol: “Transgressions of variety and common dwelling, kill your way to the king the final battle ensues.”

A permanent choir of melancholy desperate to teeth upon Troy, the dying moans of relic mortality are soon beholden to the battle mortification that succumb where soon only children will play, a scene of storm and weather in the distant dark night clouds ensigns the baying torture of invasion, the angry blades slay him in the full moon. The lauding disconsolate subordinates of chorus lament of either posterity or prose until largely loud enough in unison to invite the fears of the black forest, the unrepentant spirits wassailing outreach their breaths and gasping hold quorum, the festal journeyers of mirth as the terrible night winds howl whence fang and fervor finish to distend their paunches.

Sol: “Sweet intoxication never comes to drown the memory of the past.”

A once dead Troy raises to raze as an alder manic whose heart bleeds for edelweiss but not for short blades of terrorists, his eyes quaff the drought of dying, and a clarion thought holds as the clinic agrees with brave settler Troy walking determinately, as the spies of the invaders having slayed the knights have turned to Nickolas just as it is too late, a vengeful demonian treads staunchly as if his knees do not bend as swiftly he walks across the hay and puts the three surviving mercenaries low.

Halle paces the streets looking for indigence or luxury she stops to assess the greater details from a wiser distance before scarred hobo inasmuch oil as tattered rags.

Vagabond: “Neither more nor at the following, that it is said big worshipper of the time than to help you, nor hatred, nor about the following.”

Halle’s magic wields the winter wrath and only the shadows where the vagrant rests pains him ever so, like a dark and open door to the nether realm of cold and misery she turns her eyes to her victim to instill her scornful atrocity as frost aches his bones and blood. An immense cold to overpower even the simplest of faculties, causing early a shivering rage and eventually a deafening silence, precept of apotheosized retinue by the blights of shadows and the sounds of sleepless nights, the publicans flee from Etain’s tender mercies that any loyalist opposition will not afford, the halls covered in such as divans and sunshades, lo is become factitious to bolster the commons and dwelling houses.

Halle: “The prudence so to speak as for rude alas to-night a chilling tale not yet dissolved, the murk all colored dark of mystery saturation, hazy clouded sky commence the winter of man's delights!"

All this as Troy moves toward the ballroom, looking for where the trouble is, Merlin notices people fleeing, he makes his way into the castle, one side anent the next find him suspicious and try to seize him, but with the push of his hand a gust of air knocks them and their wearisome ceremonial garb to the ground, he passes the frozen haggard without noticing. Ana and Nick still yet are frolicking in a room, he in her dress and she in his trousers and overcoat worn backwards, abruptly a guard comes and urges them to take arms and leave the castle.

Knave: “Intruders purge your safety lord and lady.”
Nickolas: “Dispatch them away and I will soon join you,” says Nick boisterously.
Knave: “…”
Ana: “We had better see what the fuss is…”
Nickolas: “Do you think there’s a dress code?”

On the broadly empty yet body-strewn gala floor Merlin takes the breath from himself trying to cast a wind-spell that does not avert as Nickolas approaches from a dark hallway.

Nick: “Can I tear him down?”
Merlin: “Could you ever!?”

Merlin slips into a doorway as Nick fights a descent battle torrential at the lummox’s size. In the madness the lummox cuts down a palace loyalist with a large blade by one blow, though Nickolas achieves retributive justice at the lumberman soldier. There by the end of blows the stray servants are helping the giant man assay for the Saracen queen, not knowing the insurgents are her allies. Blind submission, inability to discuss, images not words more, by the calm there are few of Etain’s soldiers to take the castle, and fewer to defend it.

Ana walks a dark hallway dragging the fingers of her right hand on the wall as sparks of flint dance from the paths beneath her nails. In a gaudy overcoat she confronts Saracen warriors who mistake her for one of the debutants and intend to kill her. She has a battling of wits as she subverts them, three in all, one with cunning martial skills by his dagger into his own throat, the other two thwarted with the sword of the first, a flaming sword eventually glows while she fights and strikes through one sword, in a grapple his blade takes his own hand, and through the heart of the second soldier, while reaching forward piercing his chest he falls screaming, just as the other. The blade is red and malformed; she throws it on the handless soldier thoughtlessly, causing burning anguish and discomfort.

Ana: “Lesser men have tried with greater brevity.”

She notices a tattoo of a black rose on more than one of them then goes into the shadows. As Ana turns at the end of the hallway into the next Etain turns into the hallway from the other end, dragging a dagger shedding the same flint sparks approaching the dead or dying soldiers. When they try to speak to her through the bloodily vocals they are condemned, she turns their necks with her boots after sight of the red blade in paranoia.

Etain is in a small hallway toward the corrals when a young knave grabs her wrist, when she resists and coaxes her magical defenses he simply points to Merlin. She sees and the simple boy lets her go, she smiles with blood still on her face then runs quickly from him at her first chance, he passes the yellow boy with an old scar on his young face that drinks a bottle inclined by childish curiosity, but watches Merlin swiftly leave. Guards follow Merlin from the long end of the hall, looking dire to the boy in their passing by irreverently, unwarned they are set alight when the little local boy spills the alcohol, adds a candle to the mix, and runs laughing at them.

The Saracen guards following Merlin are confronted by the sister witch of winter, they do not know Halle from hegemony and wish to do heartless deeds, the first moves to strike her with a fist that she catches and frost burns his forearm, the second she taps on the forehead with her finger leaving a blue spot of extinct skin and a frozen mind causing him to fall dead. She turns the corner to watch Merlin, without the rebels following her. By either intellectual or moral depths she cannot follow him.

Merlin’s mind switches distinctive motives. His new goal is the stockyards and horses to where of swift pursuit and a leap from a window finally confronts Etain, shouting to gain her attention.

Merlin: “One cannot make what belongs to the afterlife happen here and now!”
Etain: “We will fight the heathens, do you remember?”
Merlin: “What creatures have you wrought on Hallows Eve?”
Etain: “Men who shaped the war, to march to terrible music.”
Merlin: “A long war ahead for those who fight them.”
Etain: “Turning point, I see no end or swing of the pendulum.”
Merlin: “The trees and the river, last of the might-have-beens”
Etain: “Keep solitary warlock, I warn you once, we will not cease.”

Nickolas bolts from the corridors and runs towards insurgents blocking the door, jumping to the chest of one, with both hands damning by dagger the one, and again the same a deathblow to the chest of the other.

Etain in magistrate fire approaches to watch the commotion or to battle, as Ana stands overhead at a window soon to join in the familial army of white magic, Nickolas waits for either of them to say something.

Merlin: “She will burn brighter hotter than your lover Nickolas.”
Nickolas: “Aft fewer bright lass have burned me I’ll be still scared of them and, not thee madam.”

When they finish their desultory pause Ana exits the door and joins the commotion, at thence Etain confronts them with a sun-spell and her pointed finger, a fire in the mind that brings a fever to their eyes and forces them all to their knees.

Etain: “There’s nothing wrong with a little bad religion, but when you’re ready, we must survive the day and then the shade.”

A carriage approaches and she enters and flees the maze of battle from the barn cove where the horses are broken in the winter, leaving them soon to be betrayed before their demise, the death in the air strikes distemper to Merlin and Ana, but serves only to suffocate Nickolas temporarily.

Nickolas: “Are you good?”
Merlin: “I was told revenge is best served cold.”
Nickolas: “Trace by steed before too long.”

With that Nick abounds by trusted steed after the Saracen empress, Troy exits the door and helps Merlin and Ana to their feet.

Merlin: “Troy seeks their leader, a woman, follow them bring him back here in one piece.”

Troy puts his hand to the air as though waving for a falcon, and in comes the phoenix with loud squawk in the air before a heavy landing. In vibrant color above the dark sinister colors bleak a prominent show in bright colors, a symbolic hope for a better future are depicted, equality is symbolized by grouped feathers aglow with the darkness and ash a fueling soot for the irradiant embers radiant of white youthful fire.

Troy: “To the victor go the spoils…Alerion!”

He holds the stirrup and brushes the phoenix’s shoulder while slapping the other and leaning as it and the rider vault into the air with a sweeping gust.

Ana: “It’s a rousingly clever name.”
Merlin: “Suffice it to say, let’s hope for more than the namesake.”

The dawn is in the west shedding respite and illuminating the chase along the trail to the vacant checkpoint at the north bridge, and Etain looks aback confused by the refuge and reverence of the hospice to seek the slumber wake. Alongside the wagon two riders, Jacobi and Wynn, accompany the caravan carrying booty and bounty hunters wearing what they could not plunder. The driver speeds but Etain puts her hand to his shoulder and shakes her head, she points her riders to the approaching Nickolas and her equestrians slow the chase to chaste him.

Doublespeak

2011-10-13T09:07:00.000-05:00

["Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak, Courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen."
Sir Winston Churchill]

Political science is the same in literature as it is in theatre; the preface is too lengthy when the message is in the heart of the work. Enjoy this apophasis doublespeak and synecdoche encomium. Lately the turmoil in this world has grown, entitlement, of the unhealthy sort, is rampant. Though starkly unrealistic, we know that the communists dream big. While real protests for freedom have turned to bloody revolutions, fascist theocracies of many fashions murder their own, and a listless despondence loosely assembled as a protest blights America. A resentful socialist defiance roams the streets of my major cities; career fascist activists feed the lost-hearted and stoke the hatred by telling them that free luxury is forever at their disposal, they are rubes with traditional class warfare rhetoric, loathing the wealthy and defending the middle class while slandering conservatives. In fact, conservatives comprise the middle class, and the status of wealth in this country is long traditionally first generation acquired and difficultly kept. The first thing they want is revolution, yet the last thing they can do is understand it, never carrying a flag of this country they do not protect.

[“An error does not become truth by reason of multiplied propagation, nor does truth become error because nobody sees it.”
Mohandas Gandhi]

Communists blame republicans because as federalists they want people to be cattle. Taxes demean the greedy, conservatism demeans liberalism; the liberals fear war and laud reports of peacetime in mute victories for the purpose of slander based on evidence acquired by their victims. There is an old feud between the federalists and republicans in this country. The democratic-republicans had their republic but the federalists wanted a new nation, to which the democratic-republicans objected. Reluctantly accepting the democratic-republicans soon realized both the benefits of a federation and the dangers of the federalists who are never content with their power. This post federalist (post-modernism) stance is quite old and bears the name communism. In the time of the industrial revolution where federalists the world around began their greedy insurrection, they were unelected from congressional majority, but not before claiming the positions of the democratic-republican party, later the GOP would reemerge as Republican to protect human liberty from statists who ruse the public - having truncated the name to the democratic party. The American Dream runs from the balance of communists and the aid duly restricted by the wasted time fighting the federalists.

[“Every man must decide whether he will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness.”
Martin Luther King, Jr.]

Rebel against the liberal monopoly on freedom, refuse to pay for the luxury of domination, be a cowboy or an aborigine, tea party, republicanism is great in principle. Liberalism is the support of social reform and minority rights without need. It is the effort to reject the conventions of vocation, whereas creativity without morality is destructive to industry. Democracy protects children from anarchy and sarcasm is the paint of a political artist, the lies of such are implausible and plentiful yet vindictive of the first perceived flaw as proof of enmity, to bring fiction to the gullible and ironically avoiding ethics.

[“Despotism can only exist in darkness, and there are too many lights now in the political firmament to permit it to remain anywhere, as it has heretofore done, almost everywhere.”
James Madison]

When the mind races and the causes come to see if rapid eye movement is happening awake and searching the shadows, look to the light, be errant in the light.

[“Making money is art and working is art and good business is the best art”
Andy Warhol]

Architecture must be an innovation of building or it is reflection of design, project communes have not style, resembling drone hives of mundanity.

[“For history does not long entrust the care of freedom to the weak or the timid.”
Dwight D. Eisenhower]

A free market grows thus diminishing despotism, the communist goal and policy is to control and not promote, an educated person can break the monopoly of communism and soon attains responsibilities previously abused by the state. Chance favors the prepared, by government above, beyond, or chaotic, verify the validity of a good government that has a lot of bad problems, to be free from any number of any other system less than perfect. The populists have allies wherever a fool wants to be rid of competition, the secret weapon of totalitarianism is the anti-capitalist emotion of countless liberals rejecting both conservative and conventional values, and moderate sobriety. What a communist sells a consumerist buys, rational action is fueled by individual thoughts, the socialist is prey and the liberal is defenseless against target advertising, the survival of liberal socialism depends on the cunning of its deception. Consumerism seeks to expand power of entrepreneurs, republican democracy seeks to limit the punishment of success, and the opposition to enterprise is an assault on production the support of which is a battle for a lower standard of living.

[“It is much easier at all times to prevent an evil, than to ratify mistakes.”
George Washington]

The entitlement of free speech is only limited by debate, to imbue morals is logical if a liberal will not rear society, be concerned with the power of government and its origin but more so with the traitors and spies of communism, for they will not correct a problem they do not see. On a good day you’re lucky if costs aren’t over 3/5, lucky if you keep 40% at the end of the month, a federalist starts a country, a conservative keeps it.

[“A people free to choose, will always choose peace.”
Ronald Regan]

The American dream is life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, if the need for medicine exploits a system to insolvency then it must be resolved without limiting choice, offering patients a choice of doctors that is beholden to practitioner commissions is imbroglio.

[“This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness.”
Dalai Lama]

Socially and legally the right to vote, to choose must exist, a government of the people counts less of slaves who are without vote, not because of any ethnological factor, for it would be the same absurdity as counting an inanimate object when districting and posting elected officials; inestimable. If you do not have a vote, a democracy, or a voice, you are a slave, in either county or country.

[“Reason is not automatic. Those who deny it cannot be conquered by it. Do not count on them. Leave them alone.”
Ayn Rand]

We are the rivals of the evil wars, the capacity of logic is greater than opposition to liberty and confines against it, combined. Republicanism is greater than communism and sedition combined. With oppression we are rivals in discovery and leadership, we deceive ourselves when expecting them to enjoy our survival.

[“He that falls in love with himself will have no rivals.”
Benjamin Franklin]

The economic-protectionism of Alexander Hamilton was wrong as it absolved war debts after independence revolutions but taxed states for their own debt; John Maynard Keynes’s consumerist fear of anemic consumption regarding individual savings accounts because it creates debt and includes a corrupt abuse of taxes, its flaw expounds a theory that saving will put an economy into withdrawal shock, surely the bureaucrats will be in shock because of the inability to withdraw taxes from the coffers for their profligacy, the notion is motivated by inclinations that the rate of private savings must be controlled; making the problem and selling the solution, the problem isn’t the desire for government but in forgetting its danger; Obama’s plan is seditious because it is federalist, designing a communist centralism when a republic already exists. United America needs democratic republicans, constitutional conservatives and foundation; political participation is the opposite of populist conflict.

[“A nation that is afraid to let its people judge the truth and falsehood in an open market is a nation that is afraid of its people.”
John F. Kennedy]

Without cause we first wait then explore, with need we earn and then achieve, the demand for revolution is not high, if it is the seekers of destruction are the problem and impedances that keep unrest uncivil. The human mind is that of a teacher and is the soul component shared with animals, as this facilitates reproduction of lessons in many topics the platitudes stray from feckless nature into proper wisdom, the era of serenity has come several times causing the desire to teach make our hearts begin domestication and husbandry of the beast. As society splits in two I dare suggest that the morally superior, humble without arrogance, be the shepherd of the lesser. Capitalism is not adventitious, benefits of communism are unsustainable, unstoppable it has no bad students nor punishes revisionists, and the enemy of this knowledge will be ignorant to survival.

["Arbitrary power is most easily established on the ruins of liberty abused to licentiousness."
George Washington]

Without indulgence acuity desists and populists begin destroying to protect a land they soon could not identify, diminishing the quality of life and taking without need. The cries of the feeble truly believe that the industry is bad because it does not bow before market collapse, or because they can’t afford their opulent dilettantisms, while protesting corporations and wearing clothes with symbols no bigger than the manufacturer. An irony of the hypocrite stings my eyes, they cannot see, then they cannot find, then they cannot trust what had not spoiled them. The rude awakening lies only short after their braving of adversity and gatherings of inaction, the bad mentor is absent or lazy as advent children look to the sky wonder how providers exists under duress, yet their unwittingly anti-capitalist protester counterparts wonder if there is a nursery with the fortunate, frittered is the opportunity of the willingly ignorant whose best opportunity awaits them.

[“Early shall he rise who rules few servants, and set to work at once, much is lost by the late sleeper, wealth is won by the swift”
Havamal]

Before bigotry finds supporters its enemy is already listening, the great offenses reprove paradoxes by being ingenious, the simple vestiges to betrayal that become peril are fated whilst they appear doctrine but being flawed still exist in disrepair when the conservatives come to fix things and are affronted. Prosperity increases by expenditure, effectually the opposite of consumerism, earning requires something to acquire, saving requires something to be given, and the fallacy simply lies within the belief that redistribution is a type of savings, when in actuality it is a type of acquisition. You are what you eat, if your leaders spout vicious rhetoric that only serves to create envy and anger, and then your days will be filled with envy and anger. A system that disapproves of acquisition whose solution is the same leaves any participants to be consumed by their vices, refuting the public benefit of wealth will not eliminate sin. A society without money arrives when it has no need for it, productivity and discipline and fun, to steal everything only causes hunger and melancholy, in fact you do not know what you have until it is gone. The naïve pawns, the commie agitators, both create neither effect nor demand of productivity; the ironic tragedies are unexpected losses that life will never get to see.

[“Whilst luxury employed a million of the poor, and odious pride a million more”
Bernard Mandeville]

We are slaves to our own devices, similar in a sense to drones, a call for silence without the efforts of peace are egregious placations, problems without solutions are part and parcel of mindless aristocracy, life is not a stop or to go, and its survivable complexities require all functionary archetypes, assembler, agrarian, equestrian, hunter, teacher, professor, disciplinarian, scribe, engineer, architect, landlord, minstrel, and even prophet, coexist successfully, but a fighter first must have several of these capabilities mastered. Morals, ethics and logic, are perfunctory without purpose. An idiot works harder, but people working harder aren’t always the fools. Using tools is one of the certainties in life that deem us human, with varying degrees of efficiency each skill is an opportunity to know more.

[“Delusion arises from anger. The mind is bewildered by delusion. Reasoning is destroyed when the mind is bewildered. One falls down when reasoning is destroyed.”
Bhagavad Gita]

Liberal policy is a deliberate lie to scare people into behaving, liberals (archetype: impetuous) believe that if their respect of fear exists that their efforts are effective, this school of liberal socialism has no foundation, events do not occur in the imagination of the masses. This solution of intimidation built on deceit destroys the very purpose of education leading to contagion ignorance. Public schools are the orphanages of education when among competition from, charter, private, parochial schools and military academies, attested by school choice and voucher programs; an observation and not a solution to a failing public policy on education that subverts meritocracy with credulity.

[“I have sworn upon the altar of God, eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man.”
Thomas Jefferson]

The populist anger of protestors looks like anarchy, despite the succinct signs that state otherwise, disowning individuality and miming fear-monger ‘leaders’ in a chant, mindlessly repeating what another tells them to say, intellectualizing communally for combined productivity and mistaking it for premonition. The liberals with practices of communism are power hungry without logic or wit, having made an art form of slander they collect to maintain, in surplus, a diluted ethic and at most parades the highest reprobate among them for distraction and conversion, like the scavenging vultures; they pride their traitors and boast them, each progressive argument takes exception to any opposition and loses initiative at the first thought of undue influence. Plunge into thought and release power and control from your mind, let nature into your breaths, find peace in relationships and joy in your intimation. To be logical requires information, to be a logician embrace the past and the future.

[“Then as now, liberals protect themselves from detection with wild calumnies against anybody who opposes them. They have no interest in — or aptitude for — persuasion. Their goal is to anathematize their enemies.”
Ann Coulter]

Logic is the philosophy of those who are living between good and evil, unity of a seeming foreign information age kept secret, a task for everyone to be completed by any means. When a liberalist foists communism it is their attempt at the production of political and civil liberties, irrespective of nihilism and objectivist approaches, an attempt for a single logic that can apply to all situations. Nihil means “(indefinite) The absence of anything; nothing,” concatenate to De- “privation, removal, and separation”; for reading reference, uninterested is under the ability of interest, but disinterested is having lost affinity; thus, Denial, is a state of consciousness where a person has separated from the reality that their argument has no substance; one who treats fiction with pathological certainty. Like theocracy and political-religion, liberalism is mimetic.

[“You cannot take away freedom to protect it, you cannot destroy the free market to save it, and you cannot uphold freedom of speech by silencing those with whom you disagree. To take rights away to defend them or to spend your way out of debt defies common sense.”
Glenn Beck]

If brevity is the soul of wit, then milieu is the dissent of cowards. Capitalism is quenching to the needs of economic industry, communism is quite disparate. The dissonance of protest is dichotomously obvious, unilaterally one is withstanding to which the other desires recompense, remuneration and budgeting, temerity and reason, self and selflessness, wherewithal of revolution by communists is highly volatile one voice to raise the masses and armies to stop a single evil idea. The supporters of insurrectionary revolution seek quiet dictatorship with loudly ignorant principles, democratic centralism negates international socialism, a single unflinching revolutionary has character individuality, where communists seek all power of authority and the believers of such autocracy seek their thoughts from central planning committees, a proper leader is as far beyond communism as it is beyond humanity, no less than it has become post human. When radicals call for revolution, the incompetent politician perpetrators of madness support chaos, a distraction utilized as every other ill begotten incident, to sickening actions of embellishment and addiction, whereas socialism in doctrine provides relief it is never offered for votes and solace in a bridge to the next opportunity for the forsaken protesters in the dust. A communist forces the neglected to fight the spoiled in effort to destroy their unpaid political debts and opportune themselves for messianic despotism, as most protesters are abandoned nationalists.

[“The most valuable possession you can own is an open heart. The most powerful weapon you can be is an instrument of peace.”
Carlos Santana]

Socialism ceases having purpose when it circumvents natural selection, breeders choose successful partner(s) and are deceived by complacency, the nepotistic patterns and dogmatic rituals are a result of inbreeding assisted further into degradation by isolation. Thusly a detestation of ‘welfare’ (statists) recipients is common, rational, and expected; teaching conservatism is patronizing because it is the natural emotion of life, the straight and narrow of breeders invested in survival of the fittest, not slavery to a welfare state that contributes nothing. If charity is a righteous choice to assist another, an offering to the wandering spirit and the consolatory price of atonement, socialism is a dangerous and unregulated chaos. The bond among the residents of the American dream must have a fitting respect that brings about communication, separated we fall as our needs are replaced by audacious desires designed to bring order but exceeding conventional boundaries. To be a good leader of those in need, you must first understand the condition of your soul, apathy does not a leader make, the concept of sacrifice is not essential to success but success is firstly essential to sacrificing rewards for the less fortunate.

["But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet; tread softly, because you tread on my dreams."
William Butler Yeats]

A social conservative is as plausible as a libertine silent partner. Conservative archetypes promote the accepted goals and ideologies relating to preservation of tradition, morality, and regulated levels of socialism. The conservative youth is what drives a liberal to seek alternatives, these diacritical oppositions are mostly illiberal contradictions to conservation and monocratic. If policies are positions considered universal socialism is a deconstruction of principles, adherence to any ethic shows civility and class but the majority of ideas and philosophies against conservatism negate socialism. The opposition of secularism and militant atheism confuses democratic socialists, thus foundations of traditional value and education is necessary for a nation to survive. Where there is nothing to learn there is neither good nor bad by thinking that makes it true.

[“Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb nor beauty to make thy riches pleasant,”
William Shakespeare / Measure for Measure]

Persist with infallible commitment to democracy and sustaining opposition to decretory fascism, and nature will bow to you. The self-declared classless yet poor does not venture from the monarchy nor into scholarly pursuits, thee shall make profit of both wisdom and wealth, for thee did certainly share with your family, to your poor, and unto thy needy in your realm. Forthwith and outright, the needy are indelibly an integral facet of disadvantaged youth and the successful wise that choose ignorance, if the sage advice cannot humble the minds of desperation hope lost the ages in which it is born. Wisdom is better than strength, the pen is mightier than the sword, and alas the experience of wisdom is despised by the voice of tremulous vanity.

[“An age is called Dark, not because the light fails to shine, but because people refuse to see it."
James Michener]

A sage can learn more from a poor question, than a fool can learn from a wise answer. If you have come to an answer without results, the argument is your own, a divination cannot be given to the closed mind, there is neither emissary of salvation nor them amongst thee to know and learn on your behalf. By both evils of repression and prejudice they have been stolen, thus unknown a weighting solace among the living, that thine aversion turns you from life, an inequity of suffering humanity that hast become the plaguing blight that perils knowledge.

[“As a rule, he or she who has the most information will have the greatest success in life."
Benjamin Disraeli]

The age of wisdom will guide the burgeoning youth, unattended they become the destroyers of the universe, certain without foresight, lying without their memories, protracting bigotry and precluding freedom. The protests are admissions of occluded pieces of fate, an ego within a shadow of sadistic treason, timid fears and precautionary fascism hidden within foolish liberal ideas. There will not be empathy for the hopeless fiends, never a dream spared for the hapless failings of mediocre insanity. Collectivism espousing domination, devout inferiority, and mollification, the subsequent pacification might teach the world to sleep, the tree of life is faster than the others and doth not nurse, without loveless demands, no predilection of cogent concern, and no faith in shades for the repugnant desires of wastrels.

[“There's nothing more dangerous than an idea if it’s the only one you have."
Mark Twain]

There is no fate of a prepared mind, there cannot be a prepared fate in the mind of a revolutionary, there cannot be a revolution affecting the definition of preparedness. The objectivity of objection is like the tragedy that is Hippocratic atrocity, perpetual the cause and result, easier to take task than to make result, the inquisition, save ye lest alas of more. It was, among all of time, hard to find good help, in the times of recession, undeserving of government expansion for half-wit policy. Perhaps a society so enlightened and educated to the point that efficiency through efficacy eclipses the need for leaderless entitlement programs, would be appreciated; but the matter of fact is that when a theory is made, the research is done unfortunately resulting in a fascist (narrow minded) neo-communist movement that is obtusely rejecting capitalism, economics, and consumerism. If not completely ignoring stable economics for redistributive folly in a time without monetary surplus, profligacy, too little and too late. There is colloquialism in countries where communist pigs have oppressed for longer than a generation, "The communists have been fighting a sectarian feud for so long, if one of the parties were to win, no one could tell the difference" - Communist policies create an unsustainable inept caste of drones, like insects, in opportunistic societies; where the unprepared are the most innocent as their livelihoods are stolen as result of incompetent leadership. A legislation not focused on education condemns us all, protesting for anything but the desire for knowledge is thus contempt for an educational institution that has become a failed system. Education is logic. The growth of government has become a misnomer of the logician; the advancement in the quality of life by education is an empowerment to the society lot, which any intellect can understand, to achieve a new responsibility without totalitarianism.

[“Be curious always! For knowledge will not acquire you; you must acquire it."
Sudie Back]

After my appraisal of all things in the postmodern afterthought, I came to find an answer missing to something that had already happened. A trivial thing but nonetheless an occurrence of instance, an affectation of fate and result of time, had I not seen it I would be ignorant to its existence; that I have is now the same. Should it have happened by me and if forgotten I surely would not be unaccompanied, nor did the surroundings and situation deem unique and confounding and intriguing. if intruding I could be the cause of the event by a time traveling agent of change or more so even to be the impetus for radical spontaneity that only the universe can manifest, surely I was not the damage perceived for the assessment is an opinion in avocation considering the ethics of merely making judgment on the ere hap. Had it happened and I were not in a dream it would not be an inquisition, were it not the instance remains as it never was, explained without impetus or caused without solution, fortunately I know my waiting will bring the same results to my life. If it is a name than it can be shared by others, however many more they may be, to an intellect that would not seem so drastically concerned by chance they are the force involved in this situation, affront to my mettle but consolation to my meddling, for I know not what it is. Where it is many names undoubtedly there are many who cannot grasp the complexity, but if my query is the source of apprehensions, and or even or, distractions from diagnosis, perhaps even to me, would it be ever named and understood at all, should the time be wasted to concern this happening. Another distraction can be made if there is a limit to a diagnosis, at a point does obscurity creates concern, as the dark of space so strong to gain our eyes in the absence of light, and that cause in itself the creation of the event. I have heard that an action that I have not made will discourse the lineage of time to cause the event some time from now before I can perceive it, or I have offended the event thus it has happened merely to confuse me, and I do not know the events that occurred specifically predictable not what that experience is. I can’t help wonder what am I destined; nonetheless, a tree has fallen.

[“The best way to have a good idea is to have lots of ideas."
Linus Pauling]

20% of the world will do what a political communist doesn't want to do, for wages that are inadequate, the humble are grateful, the meek will inherit the earth, a disparate industrialism is always 50/50 but by more than simply one divisive topic. The developing world emigrates to the developed one, the uninvited guest, anything taken for granted is truly exploited, and the desperation of applicant lowers the yield of prosperity. So far from intellect is the pessimism of confrontation in dealings with the optimism on the matter of death, so much that healthcare costs increase exponentially, yet no one can seem to discern how to manage a successful outcome, as before the entitled (by fate or fortune) affect the quality by ignorance, haste, and anger. An increasingly unintelligible picketing angry mob only mollified by the spoils of war, while chanting antiwar slogans, at a total loss of philosophical intellectualism threatens anarchy at the mere thought of a flat tax rate. As the supply is controlled by its rightful owners in the same way a liberal hides the truths and needs of education, the demand haphazardly increases by a growing population of barely functional illiterates until a myopic 'final solution' sweeps like a fire and equally destructive.

Not exactly informative, yet; if this is an attempt to bolster unrest, or merely invoke a sign of interest by the masses, what good does getting them to scream louder do? It’s never too late to learn, go back to school, digital medical records, education, engineering, technology, nursing, elderly care personnel. Great wages, in demand jobs, helpful occupations. We need solutions, not problems, not every answer is a good one. The manipulative attempts to dominate society despotically yield only the most simplest of manipulable catch-phrases, the honest will use your vile words against you. Time will tell, not a prophet for they dare not tell nor act out of their grace, nor a communist will ever have chance to rule against freedom.

The chosen few are in despair, sadness. The elitist vanities of youth run by selfish ponces are in disparity, separation - from a proper education, an honest wage, a simple life. The quality of life is contentious, the cost of living can be indexed, and it is the value of responsibility that is the most of volatile emotion. The price to live would be the same, if the standards are the same, were they to be different the amenities would not parallel, in other words, what you need, that your ancestors did not. Desire crushes distraction, good or bad by most intents, the purpose of survival is to obtain freedom of choice, if not, consume you with the cult of death. Education is a requirement of life, therein a responsibility of the order humanity, thus a cost of our morals, a concerted effort of ethics dependent on communication, not division. The only education that should cost money, is one that is dangerous to you, a militant of the republic pays a separate moral cost at the price of apathy unknown to innocence without the training. Forever our freedom, democracy until our divination, a citizen has an equal chance the same of that their peers, there is no evil magic that is not based on defeatist superstition concerning elitism, you cannot fail society unless you choose to do so. An educational institution and its members are here to prevent this; an entitlement solution cannot support itself and infamously is unable to support a ration of luck to the irrational masses.

[“It is better to understand little than to misunderstand a lot."
Anatole France]

Compulsory unionism is deceitful wording for communists who tax their children. Caesar purportedly wrote, "Veni, Vidi, Vici", which means, I came, I saw, I conquered. It is time for us to show what is being done and the tree of life. As a child knows only pain from the pangs of hunger it cries, simple and siren to a parent's ears, knowledge of food gives the carnal impetus for consumption. If a foolish socialist bequest of traitorous communist sees money is given any by proxy and then ushered into complacency, the desire a fiend is made. Unethically giving money but forgetting to instill principles will not only make a useless beggar but one that will lament at the very idea of responsibility. A transformation at peril must lead by great leaders who have not evil bones in their body. It intrinsic yet endemic to comprehend that a wealth saved, is a wealth earned, any misguided and deceived attempt to steal is the result of a leaderless coalition of jaundice choleric despots and demotic communists eager to own another slave, imbuing corrosion of conformity, corruption.

[“Beware of false knowledge; it is more dangerous than ignorance."
George Bernard Shaw]

The strangest of ironies I've found in this life is that old saying "if you give a man a fish, you feed him for a day, if you teach a man to fish, you feed him for a lifetime" comes from communist China. Of course the man can always sneak behind you and bash in your skull for no good reason, and that's just what they did. Not teaching the apprentice, of personal accord and equally volition, the morality of having ethics is deviance, causality must be understood, or the path is altered. To be witnessed changes the actions of the observed, to mock them is far more childish. The flaw of socialism is that by mandating fish be given to the waiting masses, the sociopaths are surely going to get an advantage on a path to reckless abandon. Credit is what you get when you have a career that you enjoy; communism is what you get when you let the leeches preach to you.

[“The biggest cause of trouble in the world today is that the stupid people are so sure about things and the intelligent folks are so full of doubts."
Bertrand Russell]

A Zoroastrian from India learns and tells and changes stories of the ages thru the ranges of Rome, then thru ides of March follows the cleanest though darkest rivers into the Scandinavian forest. Whence shunned as a poetic nomad, mostly for the prior, from high and low a melancholy pores abandonment, having wants without skill was eventually shunned to the olden of Gaul where unbeknownst they take the heads of warlords in hopes that the evil bodies will dig field rows, but alas they were in two jealous wars and an uncivil feud, the prior with Saracen or the sellers of sin each named Caesar for farmland without priceless invitation, the latter a feud for power of choice over both between the covens of magic that the dark outsiders would call dark. In flit and fleeing the traveler takes refuge by hospice among they who were the bookkeepers of Celt on a seaward voyage with a captain named Merrick. The silver shore covered in stone and fog, a storm raged until the trees on the banks of every river flowed into the ocean, the poet therein wandered possibly yet still never telling the same name twice.

[“But certainly, for us who understand life, figures are a matter of indifference."
Antoine de Saint-Exupery]

A closed mind gathers no intelligence, do not conform to hate, worship money whatever the color, find solace whatever it may be, respect god whatever the name is, do not twixt confuse these things. Certainly lacking is the ability to voluntarily evolve beyond natural selection, circumstantially the choice to omit prosperity in ourselves discontinues the gifts we have been given, there are evil voices in the height of the dark that can use you in a caste war against enemies that do not exist. Conflict is suffered by all; time can pass by anyone, should the weather be right the wall could be left. The industry protested is the institution that provides a career occupation, protesting it, halting it, slows and ceases it, but production is not inactive in the least. If you survive the bad karma created, killing the king doesn't get you land, it gets you lost. Doubly regrettable, a monarchy can be highly detestable, and without it there are none who know how it works. You are the embodiment of life, or of the worker, or the industrialist; a destroyer of worlds, a creator of worlds, and a preserver of worlds; in no particular order; a powerful triumvirate if logical and not corrupted.

[“As you think, so shall you become // A goal is not always meant to be reached, it often serves simply as something to aim at."
Bruce Lee]

By the by, as it goes throught1% percent of any given population pays half the taxes, from 2% - 10%, three fourths of levy, from 11% - 33% addend three fourths, completing the summary 40%, pay the lion's share, through the tipping point. There are those that cannot find a reason to exist outside of diabolic dilettante norms, because everything is given to them, when the system collapses these cretins happily suggest a transfer to feudalism for what they idiotically think is the simple transfer to a fairy tale of monarchy or communism. For among the dregs and fiends they would simply assume power, none else than tragedy of iron-clad totalitarianism from those who could/cannot survive on their own intelligence. The true ethical workers feel shame from accepting charity, they do not bribe for patience nor appreciate any hasted charity unto the land, the recipients of the socialist exploitation are a parasite determined to kill the host, thus communism is not a solution because it is a death sentence; a felonious summary larceny.

[“The creative thinker is flexible and adaptable and prepared to rearrange his thinking."
A. J. Copley]

For the 'welfare' addict reprehensible action is of their pure intentional nature, to be race traitors, a diminishing sectarian segregationist that sets a trap to kill you, with a smile, and forces you into it when you sleep. The conservative tipping point is unfortunately passed the logical one, the ability to stop corruption regrettably with many lies in a pacifist ethic, they are confused of when power begins instead of learning communally where it stops, with the irony of fascism that also plagues democrats that are not democratic, an intellectual who is not intelligent, or a liberal who is obsessive and compulsive. One engineer getting a job does not employment of a million drones make; it simply means that single engineer now has an occupation. There is no vendetta against the unemployed; there will forever be intolerance for the ignorant. This country used to make things, but it also used to have people who knew how to make things. The supposed trickle-up economics originally of courtship but now seemingly prevalent in socialist schools of thought exists when workers on-the-job, need an organization. At any of the times utopian or dystopian, one-third of the unemployed can fill employee positions in engineering if only they were skilled. In America the skillset needed is found in a shop-class, and we call these workers honest men. Another third are the educators, the desire for school in a society of functionality requires more teachers than will ever be found, and is the very impetus of this implore. More so than the others, the doctor is needed for medicine and reparation, because a society extreme, breaks many barriers when living their wildest heavenly dreams. This society is called an order, which allows many career changes in a lifetime, often too many.

[“Consistency requires you to be as ignorant today as you were a year ago."
Bernard Berenson]

The idle mind pulls the devil's weeds; a final solution is a fairly simple suggestive conclusion, as if it were an idiomatic problem, or a parable of equation. I can see now the results of emotion that caused agony, clearly as if they were my own, narrowly as if I were a predator. My comprehension of disaster puts empathy to those burdened by thieves, and more so provides sympathy for those who are periled now, an eradication of evil cannot exist without contradictory nature, and as innocent are degraded again I know the way that cannot happen again while the pacifists and the masochists watch and wonder, were it the thoughts that could not be had or the details of desirable malice if living in another life, or the danger in such a mere thought by those without a reconnaissance shadowing their lives. If I were to live another life it must be the same, many times with differences in forgetful passing and forgotten memories from this relived survival.

[“Discovery is seeing what everybody else has seen but thinking what nobody else has thought."
Sarah Ban Breathnach]

We saw riots in London, I see protests on the news every morning for weeks by those who want more jobs, but don't want to lower taxes, and in fact they want to raise them. The profligate liberals wouldn't dare understand the benefits of cutting taxes, and refuse to simply lower taxes because they need slavery, much to my confusion. The debt goes on the books, government is not a utility for profit, the workers see awesome results; those employed expect relief from this action, relief in both taxes and labor, a larger base of tax supplementation to the suspiciously convenient socialist programs and a guild staffed by those aspiring to better themselves, the community, and the next generation. If even one agent provocateur shouts in a crowd the lines that label the successful as greedy, whether the agent is of employ or not, the protests will become violence. Your ideas may be inherent, but a system is eminent, both cannot exist without people. A boycott cannot be substituted with protest, and nor the reversal true.

[ "If one wants to be active, one must not be afraid of going wrong, one must not be afraid of making mistakes now and then. Many people think that they will become good just by doing no harm -- but that's a lie...that way lies stagnation, mediocrity."
Vincent Van Gogh,
Letter to Theo van Gogh, Oct. 1884]

Apathetic masses gather the streets to take the heads of the innocent because they haven't prepared for the chances they so readily take. Those who had conserved their efforts in seeming opposition to concerted effort of disruption, advanced through the times without the help of the needy ambivalent youth. Conservatives are not the people that any liberal judges to be, for they are not who the liberal culture has been mollycoddling. The successful live lives that need not the approval by those who will never understand, even if it seems that despots have ruled you too long it does not mean your will is any stronger. Your faculties are fewer if you have abandoned hope even once, and you forget that there is no money, each day is better than the last unless your life is characterless. Every forgetful attack on private property is remembered by every individual on their rise.

[“Don't refuse to go on an occasional wild goose chase. That is what wild geese are made for.
Henry S. Haskins]

Objective is a belief, our dreams a path, where the chosen are elite and the broken are dying, the desperation hasn't inequity, and thus the desperateness of the mad must be fair to the fellows. Abandon everything you know and you will see the journey, if the knowledge is not you're to give you are a teacher, if you haven't any to give then you are a fool. The grass is always greener on the other side, either side, indelible as each side envies the liberty of the other, as the bureaucrats run for election begging for the time they have wasted, just as the thieves who have done the same, let it never be said, or a time exist, that we are not represented, a politician that needs your money and loyalty before a plan is revealed, is a feudal warlord, small, petty, irrelevant. No incoherent cult of personality does more than dull, disarm, and deceive the citizens of a free world. Kill the slogans, win a culture.

[“Doubt is uncomfortable, certainty is ridiculous"
Francois Voltaire]

Dazed by the starlets, placation and patronizing pandering, jovial heathens as the wicked scheme to pay their gambling debts and poor ventures with the blood, sweat, and tears of protesters, the helpless and the stranded few choosing to undue the ague meet a sea of eyes, is another wayward ally, but choice is priceless, never let anyone use you. Never loan money to friends, never give it to family except as a gift. The familiar adage 'judge not, lest ye be judged' is true for everyone who isn't a good sniper; a creator will not choose to die by their creation, why should you burn yourself alive with so much temptation. Resist but do not avoid, indulge but to not endure compulsion.

[“Every man takes the limits of his own field of vision for the limits of the world."
Arthur Schopenhauer]

Without logic our emotions suffer the great strength of irony, just because you have things figured, doesn't mean it won't happen to you. Life is a labyrinth, the dangers long known others plot their every move, and fate has a way of staring you in the face when you're lost. If you are frightened by the unstoppable forces of nature, nothing proves that it is frightened of you. Count the problems, if you have any there are too many, but if you cannot find them all, there are not enough.

[“Every act of conscious learning requires the willingness to suffer an injury to one's self-esteem. That is why young children, before they are aware of their own self-importance, learn so easily; and why older persons, especially if vain or important, cannot learn at all."
Thomas Szasz]

Conviction of virtue is merely an understanding of exceptionalism, the opposite of which is opportunism, worming into focus, espousing liberalism at a time of learning, and remaining egotistical while off task, all at once. A life of virtue requires constitution, resolve, and massive doses of truth. The easiest way to grow as a person is to surround yourself with people smarter than you are, but the easiest way to learn is to teach them something, as only then you will learn the absurdity of a demand.

[“Everyone is ignorant...only on different subjects."
Will Rogers]

Entrepreneurship is a joke if you're stupid, yet even a drug dealer has to understand modern economics. It may never get any better, make you useful and watch the situation improve. Free spirits of history lived to defend all calls for freedom, and those beyond desire freedom to remain active in your minds. Grow, gather, and gain respect, but do so for the hearts of the silent, a garden must grow to draw what will not eat weeds. Strike fear into the eyes of evils, show democracy to the crying eyes, and forever prove your freedom. If organized democratically, an idea becomes implacable and supported by a divine coalition, for your malice the words of anger will consume you and your efforts will collapse your desires until you are weak and dying. There are times when the teacher and student are bonded and transverse, but democracy is for the enlightened world and does not exist until learning has ended. A goal of universal freedom is won with the ideas of all, but is achieved in solidarity only by a master, for proper teaching a lesson must first be given. Our potential is within, when we volunteer, learn, give knowledge; we are using our skills to support equality so that we do not need revolution.

[“Experience is a good school, but the fees are high."
Heinrich Heine]

The call for the organization of people's assemblies is a dangerous anarchy, any assembly is by definition of people, unless the gathering of ghosts or pets. Communists use this deliberate tactic to gather their dogs of war, then crying the order loudly, "Havoc", and then waiting for the damage. If the megalomaniacal call to action wasn't for the sacrifice of honest people, you may even be dealing with a lunatic trying to summon the dead. We must strengthen our dedication within ourselves, but a leader is of their people and does not seek followers, similar to what love is, with leaders born naturally a society is one, and society's wishes is known as ethics. An ethical society finds shame by not using morals, what we deem proper and wrong, it is the divine nature that we use our faculties, as to touch without remorse and see without regret, a successful society feels remorse and regret at the sight of abandoned buildings and vacant gardens, no different than a parent forgetting to spoil their child. Atonement cannot be solely wished on someone without awakening a spirit that must enjoy culture, spirituality, friendship, and love.

[“Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterward."
Vernon Law]

Revolution and insurrection will not bring great productivity, growth, egalitarian standards, moral infidelity, and dominant prosperity. A penance of superiority corrupts at the first sign of inconsistency of government, doubts begin to grow about morality, apathy begins to create fears of success, dissent decries exceptionalism, emotion overwhelms ethical judgment of even the greatest leaders, reckless abandon cripples hope, disrespect for privacy and property cripples industry delineating it and redistributing it through a communally acquired hatred of anything with success that is not regulated and controlled often breaking into torrential violence when hearing simple suggestions.

[“Experience is not what happens to a man. It is what a man does with what happens to him."
Aldous Huxley]

Power can cause anxiety in an individual; too much growth overwhelms and stifles weak impunity. The cohesive teamwork, project management, occupational hazards, tends to make matters worse for people having a neurotic break-down. Composure is needed for leadership, and wisdom is as much needed for foresight. Protocols cannot always be developed on the scene of a complication, standards can be enforced but emotional strength must be attained, this is why leadership is not unanimous trait. A business is good, but an enterprise is better. Bigger is always better, but moderation is the key to moving your desires through the gates of opportunity, object permanence must be respected for the more eternal something has become the less likely its name has changed. Success can bear simple definition but is often ability and knowledge, common is emotion, the mind must forever have equity of wit to grow.

[“Faced with the choice between changing one's mind and proving that there is no need to do so, almost everyone gets busy on the proof."
John Kenneth Galbraith]

Liberalism means that being of even limited ability is at a great advantage in the company of those less able. It is often a race when no is there, to a long walk off a short bridge. Progressive politics is much the same, it is an idiosyncratic redundancy to a simple task, and whereas a liberal dose is defined as ample a progressive approach demands a fascist change without necessity. Demagoguery hides within manipulators that hide ineffectively, buried in collectivist drivel and sectarian nonsense, in hopes that similarities in names will espouse the hopes of the naive so that deception can occur rapidly. Democrats without democracy, bourgeois who do no burgeoning, or a people's democratic republic that has little concern for people, are all a dime a dozen, whoever kills a slogan wins a lifetime of freedom for a generation.

[“Fight for your opinions, but do not believe that they contain the whole truth or the only truth."
Charles A. Dana]

Men and Women are equal, they are the only two components that produce offspring, an alternative choice whether it be distinguished or not is not natural considering procreation. If you believe that therein a choice does not exist, then your morality is incomparable, for it is certain that the only thing that creates life besides mates, is a higher power, or for pagans a higher order. After looking at humanity in my cynical years more arrogant than beyond but more masochistic than my younger years, it is my belief that the architect has a sense of humor and no humility.

[“Generally the theories we believe we call facts, the facts we disbelieve we call theories."
Felix Cohen]

The trinity is an apple, but they couldn't see the forest for the trees. As with any opinion it may be fascist or a predication but is free speech granted by the gift of life, despite opposing conjectures. Communism is dangerous to the success of a nation duly to its abolition of private property, its support of class warfare, its exploitation of the middle-class, its hatred of small-business owners, and irreverent propensity. An honest person may reject conflict, by disposition or innate regard, based on socialist priority and social justice, to voice respect and begin implementation for a stratified economy with social status based on meritocracy and aptitude, retaining property rights, and national pride greater than that of segregating class distinction. Communist anarchists will always maintain that freedom must be suspended for democratic freedom to resume, based on redistributionist platitudes written by bitter sinners with a penchant for carnage but too pacifist for the taste of blood, books written by cowards only change the minds of the weak. Controlling labor efforts they intend to regulate remuneration thus inhibiting the business cycle, the inept appraisal of the depths of reality often lead them to isolationism in attempts to control to supply and demand. An ironic futility whereas something called communism can shun community, and try to dig its way out a hole after striking water. Private property rights encourages innovation, creativity, healthy competition and leadership, bound by democratic laws productivity will consume the need to do little more than remove the parasitical element. As taxes get higher they impose on success, regulation of productivity has an even lower threshold of becoming dangerous. Despotism denounces private property whereas true socialism does not; nonetheless, stealing in any amount is larceny. Keep what you earn, give to charity what you have not, the responsibility to benefit others exists in a domain greater than fate; laws should be of the land and not targeted for oppression.

[“Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds. The latter cannot understand it when a man does not thoughtlessly submit to hereditary prejudices, but honestly and courageously uses his intelligence."
Albert Einstein]

Emotion is a thought, humans are not animals that are restricted to one at a time, the complexity and diversity of games proves this, without more than one dream obsession leaves the spirit to betray itself. Being a teacher is easy, finding a student is impossible, currency speculation allows "corporate warfare" which takes corporately owned assets and perfects them into an industry. Sectarian movements suffer intense schism when the focus of protest shifts from industry to the perpetrators of economic collapse, knowledge is still the power needed to survive, even it can be wrongfully stolen. There is not conspiracy that is judged without collusion, rumors become accusatory, the elitists accused are the heroes being judged by elitist thick as thieves. A consortium espouses a unified theory, a successful business council will seek trained labor that serves their purpose while supporting causes that educate citizens adequately, an empire of restaurants builds a nation of consumers, and a communist regime that cannot learn from history's mistakes creates mindless masses that are as equally inept.

[“He presents me with what is always an acceptable gift who brings me news of a great thought before unknown. He enriches me without impoverishing himself."
Ralph Waldo Emerson]

The mind is not made in a mold yet the thoughts it produces are typical, natural responses to nature, society control these responses effortlessly in the form of necessity. You are what you have become, society and scholastic institutions are here to make that into something, when opportunity arises to make a choice of occupation choose a profession of the heart, your selection of choices should be anything that allows you to earn without socialist restriction. Pick something you want to do knowing there isn't always a choice, certainly it is always hard to find good work if you are not a good worker, there are too many jobs in industry that go unfilled because of this hard fact. Delusions of permanent socialism, political philosophy, redistribution without commercial intent, nationalization of corporation by a government that cannot, employee owned slush funds, an unregulated retirement program, eminent domain, all misconstrue socialism and nationalism. The Nation dream is the opportunity to succeed without guarantee, motivation in moderation as an indulgence of pride without obsession/compulsion.

[ "I do not know what I may appear to the world; but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the seashore, and diverting myself now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me."
Isaac Newton]

Beware demands that come in numbers by protesters that refuse to parlay, the list of unlikely requests has probably been made in the image of a thief. List are used for shopping, often by barterers, anarchists only seek an elitist redemption that ignores equality while destroying investment. Competition drives capital into new markets and economies into new schools, a horde will expand its territory as much as predator. Evil has its name but has no true form; egalitarianism is marked by philanthropy and poverty by beggary. Free choice will eventually destroy fascists and their callous attempts at a robotic world, but will also disenfranchise your allies, a liberal fascist thought conserves it’s time for expulsion.

[“I find that a great part of the information I have was acquired by looking up something and finding something else on the way."
Franklin P. Adams]

Progressives do not find truth to be self-evident, for them the establishment of rules or religion is seen as a spiritual binding for them to subvert at every opportunity. Change for the sake of change defines alternatives by the death of a reality, whereas a liberal might tell you patronizingly to allow more of a failed item, a progressive has had too much of a good thing. The expert in anything was once a beginner, but a fool must now and then by right by chance. A progressive new agriculture plan replaces buckets with irrigation without regard for how well the paths have been walked, the flaw is that they would let a crop rot because the workers were distracted for a gaudy speech, an interruption because of vehement impetuosity, or an insipid plan held prominence in the adolescent mind, this interruption is the faith in progressive communism and has blighted reign and realm for eras.

[“I think, at a child's birth, if a mother could ask a fairy godmother to endow it with the most useful gift, that gift should be curiosity."
Eleanor Roosevelt]

You can't make capitalism fairer than it is, without descent explanation, nothing teaches the value of hard work better than hard work. My advice is to start while you are still ahead, those that work will receive benefits of knowledge, and luxury that will only ever favor the prepared, if work and diligence were easy everyone would be doing it. After meditation take a walk and sing yourself a song of success without using the thoughts of others, until the song you hear refrains from emotion and your daydreams are explorations of mind. The idle mind is lost in a dangerous place, the tired soul wanders eventually looking for answers, and a forgotten deceiver captivates our logic and instills morose action.

[“It is not history which uses men as a means of achieving - as if it were an individual person - its own ends. History is nothing but the activity of men in pursuit of their ends."
Karl Marx]

Despair comes to those without experience, without patience who are incapable of struggle. The modern industrialist is nothing true to form; atheist apostasy is a thought in the mind that cannot bring strength, defeatist detraction. To forge creativity the high must give opportunity to the low, this does not require a toll, and it demands an honest day for honest wages. Society is where the heart can be creative, even if by occlusion it is not a piece to a hostile dictatorship. Democracy is vital to socialism, if you oppose a conspiracy and err mistakenly, a new breed of revolutionary will crush the conspiracy that is uprising.

[“It is impossible for a man to learn what he thinks he already knows."
Epictetus]

A life without money is better than a life of conflict to control power, enlightenment is like the inability to fight for possession of an idea, and someone who argues fact is having their first independent thoughts. Random cycles in a political sense are bureaucracy, exponentially invasive, steadily hiring accomplices and getting to fewer accomplishments. Some say that there are two things certain of this life, death and taxes, though usually if you’re the capitalist that socialism ever-desperately needs you'll be paying operating costs. Society has created conveniences plentifully across much of the world, it helps a lot to know how to make the goods that people use, and it pays to make the tools used to create commodities.

[“I have never in my life learned anything from any man who agreed with me."
Dudley Field Malone]

Dignity is respects for poverty, ignorant people wander until they know it well, the old try to trap it, and the young try to kill it. If it were a seed, a doubtful person would have remorse and a fool would wait for it to grow itself. I've heard of furors and political prisoners speak of the chaff and the seed, but the righteous will be pulling the weeds. Even the burrs must go, or the hounds will not hunt. A weed should not be cut, or burned, or pulled with glove, it must be removed for it is the logical thing to do. Regardless of color, or name, or place, or shape, or size, or weight, if you cannot change your identity, surely you will be seen for what you are.

[“I have no special talents. I am only passionately curious."
Albert Einstein]

From here there are only martyrs to crucify; this is an unethical thing even before it is labeled. An awakening is more than an enlightenment it is a rebirth, the communists in holistic protest with lists of demands are approaching a spiritual awakening. There are stages of growth that exist as principles of acceptance by emotion and logic. First is acceptance of appraisal thus a definition of relevant inequity, a problem is noticed and put into prerogative. Second is disappointment, the infallible purge of inequality by way of recklessness refutes the most viable enemy. Third, after little deliberation and much wait, bargaining begins; dialogue and compromise are ventured and gained. Fourth a purposed raw emotion serves as impetus for success. Fifth and final is denial and suspicion, faulty in times of peace and perfectly logical after a victory; often necessary. A life spent practicing equality is far more ethical and certainly more logical than a life of vengeance. The lack of ability by mobs is obvious to even a child with the proper vantage point; if emotions can be controlled in discipline then one must consider the art of war in a thought class of games and theory, the thought must be entertained but no more than minor studies to afford proper studies in strategy. A considered response can fail in haste and succeed by dumb luck, when unexpected a battle fought like the animals we are efficient, the symbolic reputation brings fear through infamy, intentional ability reviles violence and embraces it. Without effort to rationalize postpone vengeance until wisdom can reassert itself.

[“Well I am certainly wiser than this man. It is only too likely that neither of us has any knowledge to boast of; but he thinks that he knows something which he does not know, whereas I am quite conscious of my ignorance. At any rate it seems that I am wiser than he is to this small extent, that I do not think that I know what I do not know."
Socrates]

The moment of proverbial destruction arrives as a reckoning, our dreams penetrate our eyes through the clouds of a dangerous storm, the shadows of the mind push us into the stream of consciousness, time turns fate into needs, and our emotions gather consistence through memory and missing desires. In a sea of mediocrity revenge of the arts is feudalistic at its best, as seeks a leader from among them when theirs is lost or abandons them; they see causes of a problem but blame the innocent in a persuasive threat for additional power in a struggle for domination. People advertise what they are selling, by display or information; it is no different for the communist who sells lies that praise the liar.

[“I have always been among those who believe that the greatest freedom of speech was the greatest safety, because if a man is a fool, the best thing to do is to encourage him to advertise the fact by speaking.
Woodrow Wilson]

Etain, Avalynn, and Hel

2011-10-08T16:13:00.000-05:00

Click an image to enlarge it.

Clad in Capitalism

2011-10-02T02:02:00.001-05:00

Forever is the unfortunate era of social degradation and political change polluted by social justice demagogues promoting intolerance and exclusion. Conservative politics is hated, like anything a blind person hates, something they cannot see; a drastic metaphor to explain xenophobia cast toward the image of the invisible, the unimaginative rage of fascist pigs and terrified automatons who don't realize their unfocused communist tendencies. These people now desperate to find work perhaps - "People are dumb, panicky, dangerous animals, and you know it." - they fit the demographic of people that the hippies with bombs were attacking. Since this reign of civil unrest, uncivil solutions, and wicked pontiffs above the crowds trying to scheme their next meals and failing to stop the waves of mass anarchy, the virtuous and meritocrats have been giving their all and losing their minds at night hoping that these liberal-children make it home by morning. In the years past, conservative groups were bombing contradictory establishment media-whores and military industrialists who exploited the minds of the innocent and stifled any sign of an education system merely for payola. These days the communists are in power over the last free country of the world, as to have ignorance, incompetence and civil disobedience, take place as this 'social justice' that was once called shared-brain nonsense or emotional hive mentality, if nothing more than a distraction for the ambivalence of leadership.

I know racism is the last word I want to hear, humans are one subset of life, not more. Some are more inclined to apt proclivity without reference, without facsimile model, original and substantiated; I pondered whether the president should be 'dethroned' as it were, in the name of a society defended by post-racialists who live inside the modern day equivalent to a blacks only club. My cadence becomes truly adamant as the time is wasted watching him payback communists and cronies or take kickbacks in the form of new campaign contributions, an immensely possible overt job security for himself, or cult infamy for his enormous teleprompter ego. I saw video, of Reagan at a British parliament where he spoke 30 minutes commandingly well spoken, but this president just might take the teleprompter with him when this administration ends, if he can break from being dispassionate about capitalism in despotic mantra.

Ideas about morality are extremely vague and confused among primitive communists, and by no means as openly concise as the socialist protest signs copied from books, the chants led by communist labor leaders, or in the formulated illogical 'manifestos' of learned people. By the by, a manifest is a list of things you believe are coming to you, in the spirit of amorality it seems a bit needy. The social justice lamentation is no more than desperation by consecrated anarchists, disparate vanity and naivete by young and old, in attempt to define morality for themselves, the ethics established by communities or the morality established by civilization has no hold on the insolent inconsolable masses. The cult of personality, the succored anachronistic goals, nor their incoherent and timid opinions are ill conceived and indistinguishable from one another. Were these places homes to logicians the majority of misconceptions and disinformation could be diffused with the remainder of lurid anarchy led by the unknown and mysterious faces in the crowd that would be their leader. An uneasy group emanates the green of sin as limelight, which communists use their forced dues to seek and exploit for subhuman sustenance like leeches from the cesspool of compulsory unionism.

Creativity evades the enemy of sustainability, the formless replication of viral and decaying pollution affects the formative mind. Seek not what your garden can do for you, but what you can do for your garden, lest alas the weeds will destroy even the autumnal seeds. Indeterminate layers of inexperience cloud the judgment of false prophets, if even a shadow of doubt exists the heart is false, this relevant determinant holds especially true to any idea that is not your own that cannot be proven. If time shall be saved by locksmiths, their craft had best be written and their fairy tales without evils as the victor in a land of manifestos filled with hated enemies of a manipulative author, but not a single solution of independence. There are ecological stewards and stewardesses whom upon anger by way of frustration destroy what offends truly only nature, the impending system hunts citizens dragging with it a cloud of insupportable regiment, like it were a labor politician, or a feudalistic scholar. The socialists, on their way to the indefatigable Shangri-La of communism, witlessly attack capitalism as if it isn't the perpetual force of society, were they not idly destructive and effacing. Decrying commerce without knowing the words of detraction in which you bathe, in an instance of rebellion roiling hypocrisy, fomenting liberal inaccuracy of boycott consumerism ignorant of the irony, is no less than dilettante bogus consumerism at its spoiled and profligate heart.

A leader would find didactic logic before influencing others from the high office, abandoned the anarchist is lost in a sea of feudal slaves, the only salvation comes in the form of the provident whom wish them godspeed toward education and wealth, the frail vulnerabilities of emotions and identity crisis plague a generation filled with more disruptive natural chemicals than the fiends they will become.

Soever

2011-10-01T19:29:00.000-05:00

I've never found a sinner in a dream
Before the blinding darkness takes control
Forever are the spirits full of lust
And demons are the ones you cannot trust
From river and the water make the air
To crush the bitter shadows of the land
For testing on the battle of the shield
An ancient lesson that they cannot yield
From sympathy to violence runs the wake
Of blood and broken glass and stolen minds
For trust I cannot hold w/in the fire
When souls are sent aloft w/ garret wire
I never speak of bliss I do not own
Or fracture future poison on the vine
Between the subtle futures that are lost
A death becomes a virtue for the cost
Should martyr side with heaven on the way
A silent cloud of Autumn over path
A setting sun behind a frozen ship
A mutiny of vines afore the trip

There is a gentle river in the night

From dust to ash to blood to broken vine
The mire is a coat upon the waist
The fog controls in swamp before the breeze
The poison of a bird within the trees
To say the wind was not before the flight
Infers a subtle absence of the sun
The devil is the object of the moon
The river of the tide begins to swoon
Excelsior rejoice the dark has won
A wise remark from beasts beneath the leaves
A journey with a gift inside the hands
Adrift because of life across the lands
A slew of branches grow on ev'ry roof
With grinding teeth festooned on filthy floors
The creatures who convinced the air is theirs
Begins to promise future to their heirs
The eyes of snake and spiders in the cave
The pitfalls of the leaps and bounds undone
The feast upon the swiftest of the birds
A wisdom put to rest with fewest words

The toll to ride across is more than fears

Faster them the light of a frozen time
The water is glass below aching feet
These minerals that keep the skin alive
Are compensation for the way we thrive
Examining the river in the grass
The trees afraid of fires on their way
The terror of a common threat unknown
The hearts of which are vastly overgrown
I dare to cut the dream world with a knife
A life that evil mustn't ever know
The pain I cause for criminals at dawn
The song remains the same without their spawn
A druthers have the dogs to drink my blood
A spirit to consume the empty soul
The fires of the night that love to burn
The chance to be a friend will not return
Enthralled by all the wicked in the sand
Without the cooler land to perish hate
Before demands of sovereignty conflate
The wars of less than men must now abate

To hell thru death when all the fire clears

When mentioning discussions on my mind
I sink into disgrace the world untold
For water cannot choose the broken well
Nor terror can escape the darkest hell
I dream of molten stone of waterfalls
And dogs beneath the sand that cannot rest
As mountains made of night swallow the streams
The greatest demon child consumes your dreams
A sphere of water lone in deepest space
Consumed by thoughts of sinners on the ground
As long as our new fears remain so plain
The fires on the sand will not see rain
A soul of scales is gently ripped away
As diatribe pollutes my second sun
The madness in the mind cannot complete
Where logic and your sadness never meet
With stories of the whips and chains aside
The screws to you whom cannot feign you pox
The future will defeat the crippled past
For murder in the sands is what thou hast

The devil waits to own your countless years

The better men en route will take your time
In time to live a freedom only theirs
From deserts of their own to pay the cost
With words alike revenge will not be lost
Within this land the earthen man my friend
His thoughts asleep are stronger than your soul
And northern if the winter cannot rest
Will put the battle to the title best
Agree with me you mustn't ever be
Repeat this in a separated fate
For tyranny to battle at the wit
Will be festooned with tragedy and shit
The days of old are passing to the night
The signs of plight are given by the storm
But tragedy amidst forsakes the sky
And slavery by dogs shall need to die
Accomplices to war will scorn the earth
A dearth of useless blood to cover soil
The messages of death are so absurd
That demons oft prefer to go unheard

-

another linux paper

2011-10-01T19:20:00.000-05:00

www.scribd.com/doc/67108489/Linux-101-Essay-mjbanks

It is a paper for Linux 102, even though I've taken 201, (state curriculum change?). I forgot to do it, and it was/is due to-morrow, so now it's done, after an hour. Enjoy...life.

Merlin 2:18 The Liminal Passage

2011-09-19T13:48:00.000-05:00

Merlin 2:18 “The Liminal Passage”

The omniscient calm of a dying firestorm, the apostle in triumph stands not but faint and falls without restraint. The innocent woman and her children watched Merlin fall among his coadjutors, his face aged more than the moments sacrificed in remonstrance. Troy is now pale and white in the distance, his skin clouted with the magic of the phoenix was at closer examination deep enough to forge a porcelain heart. His renitence to the flame’s deluge made him restive in the place, unable to palliate the scene he reaches into his skein of armor and pulls a large potion and tosses it to the ground near Merlin.

Merlin: “What is it?”
Troy: “I think Scotch-Mead”

Merlin tore the cork from the bottle for an insouciant drink, bittersweet he drank for his life. Nickolas stands over the wilted body of the scarecrow demon alongside Ana, with Troy pacing toward them. The phoenix watched his pilot walk between the victims and the incipient fire, the garrulous fickle-natured thoughts scowl predatorily, but at sight of his destination the holy bird began frolicking in the ashes, chasing embers and rooting in soot.

Troy: “Yet of whom did ask my subtle grace?”
Nickolas: “Perhaps indeed besotted druthers forsooth to mention.”
Troy: “Unleashed and unparalleled.”
Ana: “Hast ere anent thee comrades?”
Nickolas: “Nay, though surely Merlin has, will he be well love?”

Ana looks and courteously contrite ignores Merlin, whose gasps and convulsions have become a dire sleep.

Ana: “He’ll be well by the looks of it…where did you get that potion ivory?”
Troy: “...A barterer in the night had a case of them, the owner ran when I stood in his path so I helped myself.”
Celia: “What the fuck was that thing!”
Ana: “’Twas a demon madam.”
Celia: “Ye may halt channeling demons.”
Troy: “End touting how brilliant ye believe to be & commence learning the nature of thy manky hone fears.”

White and ever wise Troy offers his hand to the lady, noticing that her son has been wounded he picks the boy up in his arms and begins carrying him to his farmhouse with the mother and her daughter soon behind them. He shouts averring to his compatriots without averting focus.

Troy: “Nickolas, there is more to drink it you can fetch it from the avian.”
Ana: “Take for Merlin first Nick.”

There was a small but bonding moment of averseness between him and the great bird, but the contumacious standstill reveals a bethel of three additional bottles, of which he drew two and moved to his lady, trying to underact his perspicacious motives. As a loving embrace ensues he thoughtlessly mentions to her.

Nickolas: “I was over the moon when I saw thee angel, how hell awaits its fall for thyself.”
Ana: “You’re filthy, we should recourse the river, slake our thirsts.”
Nickolas: “Merlin…my good man, we’re off to the river to see how godly cleanliness is.”

With inscrutable ingress he approaches Merlin who is in calenture, wherewithal egresses retrocede does furtive passions to the cool of even.

The Tear of a Page

2011-09-17T20:55:00.000-05:00

They're raising the taxes
when there isn't enough
just to cover their asses
as their promises bluff
we've been toiling and working
with nothing from a half
the prisoners are boiling
we have the final laugh
elections wait for lies
the voter is king
as hunger is a drive
letting freedom ring
on mourning is the day
louder than the sun
with any thing to say
freedom must be won
we walk on the tears
beside the sky
for all of our years
a campaign lie
for some of the same
none of the rest
a worshiper game
put to the test
inside the mind
tragedy
for all the kind
gravity
challenge the heart
without hate
a final start
empty fate
into air
our breath
as we share
a death
liberty
undone
completely
unsung
a life
long
our strife
gone
the light
wild
the night
child

A Serving Imbroglio

2011-09-14T23:42:00.000-05:00

As not for oft I've sat and wrote in prose
but many times a root for all the leaves
a circumstance the matter of belief
a post that cannot dwell for it is dead
with certainty a love to soon forget
like basil in a bush or mint for tea
the wars have come and gone like rain on fire
a memory foreseen to nevermore
a kingdom quenched at birth has come undone
perhaps a new awakening at dusk

Forsaken are my thoughts close to the seam
I scatter to collect what dreams await
but pillage me usurpers of the night
and blasphemous these symbols on the wall
by windows to a dream below the sea
but I digress of lessons in the light
to use how learned matter can convey
these battles in the vicious tenet mind
with visions of a cold and metal soul
possessed with demons feigning for the heart

These actions better never left unsaid
to message for the slaves below the deep
the pressure by an ocean made of tears
by fears of angels lost without the light
forever is the maker quite unclear
the secrets in the blood of those who've died
these masters are bereft among the plants
or happenstance to dance among the weeds
while working with their colors for the cost
the bones to grind and toil among the trees

Remember of the farmer in the breeze
the shadows at the edges of the eyes
a discontent for creatures at the mass
deliverer of sermon to the skies
a land surfeit to treasure on the march
awakened by the tears of heaven's joy
the wars of blood decay on mortal soil
betrayed the rivers wash eternal sin
a glare at every growing tare and tret
authority to tame the summer storms

The roots of time are digging in the dark
the host of wealth is covered oft with ash
advantage of the hedgerows and the thorn
as mysteries unfold and clues unwind
with spears and spades into the frozen north
and now usurpers burn for forest myths
adults afforded grace at lesson one
betrayed by many youth of ignorance
with battle to the wall once more again
continue to the heart of traitor war

When talking to these stones I fell asleep
to keep a single thought within a cell
complete with stolen sight beyond the bonds
a struggle for a thought wont to exist
where kings have better hold on former thirst
and jesters are the patient slave of choice
combined our efforts breath for aqualung
the essence of complacency at best
a test of trial and wit before the bones
a phial of shooting stars and stripes will do

At speeds of light the carrion erodes
the gathering of roads completes alas
as bastard spies disown their stolen nests
their stolen thought are rancid in the mind
belayed by further fracture of the muse
another not myself to lie in weight
as open waterfalls attack the ebb
the crops are growing deep into the air
beyond mine eyes that dream beneath the sleep
and wash my soul into the buried sands

I could not drink for weeks before the war
nor start my heart without a drumming feud
reports of mountains washed into the sea
the spoils of gathered soil has bound my wings
the strings control the shadow on the hill
the laurels are the spires of old guilt
the swill behind the hilt is second best
the scrolls of beasts with empty rooms unclean
escape the straightest path beneath the rust
with warmer thread they beg that morrow sows

The decadent seductress taste of steel
while all the seasons battle at their wit
to court the talons of the algid shore
with blades above the eyes and fires deep
to keep the song of age from curse and hex
survive the fiends and mercenary march
the midst of ides is sharpening the dawn
the movement as our future fights our past
with friend and foe all felled and thawing fast
the waves of falling oceans take my all

The bluest morning sky that can be seen
of softest thorns beneath my broken feet
as sweetest air entreats my every need
a flower made of sand becomes my mind
the sharpest hair completely made of blood
the king of wolves in forests made of time
between the warring mountains made of lust
the rust of shadows dying in the night
the swords of heaven falling to their death
to save the air of maidens at last breath

_______

Obama Launches 'Misinformation' Website

2011-09-13T19:47:00.000-05:00

Obama Launches 'Misinformation' Website - President Obama - Fox Nation

- "Now he wants to gossip on the internet."
- "This is just another case of government employee productivity going down the shitter because of social networking."
- "tisk tisk, sir."
- "if he wouldn't provide so much misinformation, he wouldn't need that site"
- "no, he's starting a site where you can read all of his misinformation,"
- "i think he means disinformation...and trouble for Usa,"

According to Attack Watch: "See a new attack on the President or his record? Use Attack Watch to report it..."

I can't tell if this communist-socialist idea is closer to USSR or the Nazis. His failings are highly blatant.
+separation of power and reform / corruption

+permanent tax hikes for temporary plateauing 'stimulus' spending
+no energy plan
+no jobs plan
+no entitlement reform
+no bureaucracy reform
+no tort reform
+no education reform
+failed fiscal policy
+trade deficits
+crippling insane regulation
+unfair tax rates (One may expect rich tax hikes, as they earn more, but these %s are higher than their share of GDI, which is larceny.)
+unemployment over 8% for 30 months, longer than great depression (he gaffed it would never surmount 8%)
+inexperience / massive cult of personality
+an ADDITIONAL 2 million people unemployed
+25 million people with part time work, can't start families
+largest welfare-state ever
+largest unemployment period per worker in history / 40 weeks

The POTUS isn't discrediting any ethnicity, only defaming himself. Although i might have my share of doubts of "them", if he persists.

1 LOVE, 1 FAMILY, 1 EARTH

Night Terrors 15 The Devil’s Bounty

2011-09-07T22:51:00.001-05:00

Night Terrors – 15 The Devil’s Bounty
M.J. Banks

A house on the hill, not just as any other a single level at the peak of the mountain overlooking the city, in the day a mighty suburbia, in the night a dark labyrinth of alleys and counterculture. The air has a constant smoke low in the valley and clears the warm air of summer at the summit. The television lies restless with the tales repeating as Judas Wolf showers, as he does his friend Julio, better known as Julius Caesar pulls his car into the drive and enters into the house on the hill. He raises the volume on the TV and plunders the fridge for cheese and an apple and watches the new anchor of Broadcast Report retell the tale of a prior news anchor turned suicidal immortal refugee as Judas adorns himself for daily affairs. Afterward he stands
at the glass wall and with a finger he taps the glass and it turns translucent.

Judas: “Out there, theatre of the damned.”
Caesar: “Could you ever leave the stage?”
Judas: “What have you dude, new work and fresh meat I hope?”

Judas shouted his comment into the kitchen of the open area loft as he began his morning yoga stance, one foot on the ground, the other against the knee, the arms in prayer, and the eyes closed, despite the beautiful view.

Caesar: “It’s the jumper from the news.”
Judas: “No shit!”

He broke his prose and silent mantra and darted to the counter where Caesar removed his tablet from his windbreaker and put it on the table. Judas took a look at it momentarily and ran to his bedroom, only to return with his own. He put it on the table and placed his palm on the screen, after it read his handprint he slides it over toward the other, pausing to see her face on the TV screen then shifting his focus again to the tablets, each with different material on the same topic. His partner and casual friend sits quiet and slicing the apple and the cheese.

Caesar: “Well…what do you think?”
Judas: “I think that’s expensive what you’re eating.”

Judas didn’t really look away from the tablets or focus too intently, just drifting his eyes over a fountain of information.

Judas: “Am I going to love this…”
Caesar: “What?”
Judas: “Come with me.”

He moves quickly through the house with his friend behind him into a gaming lounge with low oriental furniture and stands at the wall.

Judas: “Ready? Pull.”

They pull levers on opposite sides of a TV, with a bit of burden they draw up the TV into the ceiling pulled by heavy sounding chains to reveal a wall bathed in soft blue light and covered with weapons. Judas grabs the half slice apple from his partner’s hand with contempt and takes a large bite and takes his handguns for the day.

Caesar: “How do you open it alone?”
Judas: “You got to put your back into it.”

Judas looks behind him to the futon in the room and finishes his apple, with guns and holsters and the pride he bolsters he drops the TV down again like an old garage door and leaves the room. Outside they leave in a black car, dark as demon’s blood, without glare or gleam. Through the peaks to the smoke of the streets and into the heart of the valley, they discuss their assignment.

Judas: “Did you read the file?”
Caesar: “Yea it’s on Broadway.”
Judas: “This is going to make my week.”
Caesar: “What? Why?”
Judas: “A pawn dealer named doubting Thomas.”
Caesar: “Yea do you know him? It says Thomas here.”
Judas: “I do, stay in the car; I’ll radio if I need help.”
Caesar: “Ok, but it’s your ass if I get pinned at the car.”

Judas arrives at the location but stops short by the length of an alley and slips into the steam. Inside Pawnee Shop, Thomas patiently waits for his eggs to cook as the doorbell rings. After checking the camera he sees that it’s Judas.

Thomas: “What the hell is he doing here?”

Thomas lets him enter the gates.

Thomas: “I’m surprised to see you here, it is still daylight.”
Judas: “Just checking in on your better habits, wouldn’t want to find a need to report your mistakes to P.A., but before you get scared finish your breakfast you’re going to burn your eggs.”

With some apprehension Thomas continues cooking, after a moment of sticking his head into the fridge to hide the glowing off world booze behind a carton of oranges.

Judas: “No need to hide your Moonshine Thomas, it’s not that kind of visit, I just need you to tell me if you’ve seen someone.”

Thomas makes his plate and sits at the table with the barred, chained, and fenced window at his side.

Thomas: “Yeah I can help you with that; I see all kinds of you guys every day.”
Judas: “No foreigner jokes, just tell me have you seen this lady.”

Judas shows him a picture of the fugitive and watches Thomas freeze in his boots and begin to sweat, a fear strikes him with great swath and you can see his eyes trace a memory in order. Judas pulls his gun and points it at Thomas’ forehead.

Judas: “Tell me now…I don’t have many options for this one Thomas.”
Thomas: “She was here with little Sam, on my advice they’re going to go see Bram.”
Judas: “Where?”
Thomas: “In the subway.”
Judas: “Traitor.”

Judas shoots him in the forehead and watches him eventually fall forward again into his plate. Next he puts a phone on the counter top and goes into the fridge, takes the box of oranges and the bottle of glowing booze, then leaves without the phone. Outside he gets into his car and awkwardly closes the passenger door.

Judas: “Subway lets go to the downtown station first and park the car.”

Caesar begins to make a U-turn in the street as he asks Judas the question.

Caesar: “Everything go ok in there?”

Judas smiles and does his best to not smile with joy in retort that begins to consume him.

Judas: “I think I left my phone in there.”
Caesar: “Oh shit you fuck –“

As Caesar was halfway through his turn-around he slams his foot on the gas pedal and tries to leave as fast as he can, the pawn shop explodes just then, the blast so big the force pushes the car sideways in the street until it speeds to escape. The subway is dark, clouded, smoky, and elusively dark. The pipes that run overhead are clean from the patron vampires that overwhelm the subway, an infestation by any discernment, too many disreputable criminals turned half-blood by true vampires or the capture of one, spent drinking each other for too many cycles of the night. Or even worse, feeding on the blood of immortals until their minds have gone mad like the ancient vampires of the dark ages, immortals are not healthy, perhaps they do not eat or they fill their blood full of narcotics, or even worse with habits of poison to tempt the fates of immortality, nonetheless the blood of an immortal has no true life to mention.

Caesar: “I hate this place.”
Julius: “As do I …you can always retreat…but I don’t see why, the world is yours I though.”
Caesar: “Here they come.”

Across the night the vampires emerged in darkness, crawling and confidently stalking like predators of the Eden, they drag pipes or their dirty hands along the walls, not timid, not afraid. Nevertheless, they should be, in formidable battle Judas and Caesar slay the lot. At a steel door a buzzer, at the end of a hall a curtain, beyond it a large room with other doorways covered in their own curtains around a room with a comfortable atmosphere of a family den with warm light and children playing.

Sam: “You’re late.”
Judas: “Thomas is dead.”
Sam: “Why?”

Caesar sits-down with the children and plays videogames in 3-D where they wave their hands at the screen.

Judas: “He knew where you were going.”
Sam: “So?”
Judas: “I wasn’t just in the neighborhood trading my car for crack money, somebody saw you there, she has a file and somebody big is looking for her.”

Samantha: “Good thing you were there to fix this.”
Sam: “Did you find a double?”
Judas: “We're working on it.”

Sam shows the address to Judas so he can see it...a clue unturned...the innocent strangers are as quiet as the guests.

Child: “Why don’t you relay it in digital?”

Sam picks-up the child.

Sam: “It’s not that easy anymore; show me you’re game boy. Twelve o’clock Judas, make sure you two are there.”

Caesar: “We will.”

Out the door they went, with guns drawn and the shadows of hell watch and scowl while making noises of the lurking absence of light. In town Judas and Caesar wait in their car drinking coffee outside a small coffee shop, as a woman who looks exactly like Angelica with died hair exits the building, a small camera at the trunk of the black car opens, as they watch through the screen she settles and they exit to trap her, a net shoots over her and draws her to the ground.

Angelica: “Where are you taking me?”
Judas: “To the mines of course…”

He and his partner toss her into the boot. The trunk closes with her in it as they drive away through innocent bystanders and coffee tables, hitting a cop car and sparking a pursuit. Down the street Judas lowers his window and holds a badge through the window, the cops take notice apprehensively and move to the window aversively with pistols drawn out only to quickly dismiss the instance and return to their patrol unit, letting the bounty hunters free with her heart pounding inside the trunk.

Poseur Education

2011-09-04T22:12:00.000-05:00

Epigraph
The context of currency is capitalism, the context of power is manipulation. I was at my all with economics, until sunset. I had imagined a world so cold that it could not help progress, a place so callous that it would not punish the reprehensible youth. When I ask myself what will become, this is all true. There is a profligacy that is destroying our freedom, an infectious irresponsibility is consuming all. There was a period of our past we call the great depression, a weight was put on our chests in the sea of tranquility, and all business began suffering. Again we are the same as that time, and it is equal in recession, though now we are a stronger alliance of cities and socialism. Our charitable programs have been exhausted passed the brink of failure and as a people we are very close to the point of no return. Ungrateful masses pollute entire schools of thought, grasping like beasts of burden with new circumstance spouting words they've heard merely for distraction and anarchy. Insomuch as technology has been overlooked by ingrate and insignificant masses, it is as it was prior. Technology is a natural necessity, without it we are lost to the darkness that the beast desires. With all objections to using shades of grey put aside, these new black days are upon us.

Invariance
At the time of the olden time depression technology was a burden and a cure, in ways it brought sustenance to the tables of the needy, in other ways it put the farmer from the field into the lines of recession. Disparaging practices put order beneath chaos, and a time of struggle again brought together the minds of the masses and forged a stronger republic. The winters cold or the summers dry, those that had innovation could produce, as those who were unwilling to learn and grow were left to the wayside. From high and low a society seemed to split in two, though as often as great leaders have said that we are one, the spite and hatred grew from division into purported desolation. Cars moved the populous and justice caught the criminals, factories milled our food and housed our anachronistic desires, and the voices spoke while the children listened. Unto this our division began anew until the morrow we witness arrived. Aside from telling people that there is no recession, we must remind ourselves and others, the affluent and the exploiting afforded swindlers of both paupers and high society, that we must forever be learning.

Epeolatry
Into the old losing years, we were many without technological convenience, the luxuries and other finer things in life we adore, now (and yet again) we are disparate, separated similarly, by the lack of leisure and communication, often one in the same. A few afforded the option to never work a day in their life, abandoned by an empty culture that asks nothing of them, envying toys, time, and every jot or tittle they see. Whether it be by choice or ill fate their inability to adapt makes them the archaic centerpieces of a battle that society must overcome. It might at any point be safe to shudder the thought, what the amounts of unemployed masses will desire when Earthlings create shuttles, or what else the science fiction writers have implored, to escape this rock. These times are tough if that only they are changing, "You cannot step twice into the same stream," many sage sermons have illuminated and many wise ones have touted but of so many words. If the heartbroken will break new hearts, those unable to heal and grow will be the demise of society. As the newspapers prize controversy over intellectuals whose sternest reprisals are written in sparse lines of this and that, the best conservancy is lost without flaws to reject, each trivial deceit is another moment lost on fallacious education.

Reification
You cannot make love to a stone but I'm sure, with the proper amount of money, in the right tent you could find a politician giving it their all. Are we ever closer to defeat than when we do not help humanity, are we ever closer to death than when we go at it alone, these perils do not wait for the souls and skins of life, but we must make them wait. If we do not cherish the wrong way eventually there will be none who can teach it, resist temptation to avoid showing misfortune, as there may be corruption borne of our hearts forever know it is not a creation of thought. Sport is a competition better by confidence earned by practice, faster is more formidable and is no different with knowledge, remain in your studies and do not abandon hope. Lies are all that is heard from death as a sport, success is no more difficult than survival. Being told that deceit is required is no different than a pathological liar deceiving you, it is much worse to lose the respect of deceivers than it is to disappoint yourself, but it is no different than fighting your entire life to be the best of the ignorant and disrespected by the innocently irrelevant childish minds than it is to be a slave to fear.

Multistability
There is an absolute truth to be remembered in the forest of time, the innate human condition is wise beyond its time before it is born. Stay you by the strongest weapon and learn that demise is delivered by a fighter from a lineage of fighters, irrevocably know that the mind has limitless potential but our memory must forever grow. When racial traits are inherited, intellect is not excluded as an erroneous theology as the atheists would have you think, it is perhaps most accurately described as the human race. What we can do and know is endless, but our brains can only hold an arcane ten percent, if standards are ever lowered and the weak allowed to pollute heritage along an inadequate and wrongly damaging education system, a sobering stoicism will be realized only after the fall. It has been said that 'what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger', leaving little doubt of patrons of an undisciplined chaos would defame conservatives and claim that responsibility is forbidden. Their weakness is the most obvious, so blatant that it escapes the purveyors, their projections on others are accurate requests for their inner desires, calling others extremists is a desperate cry for extremism, awhile their mantra hypocrisy is a countable clamor by every egotistical presentation that foremost delays the inevitable.

Sonogram Æsc

2011-09-03T23:15:00.003-05:00

Summoning Beacon

2011-09-03T23:13:00.000-05:00

There might be a halo at the top, but my technologies are limited.

Humble Brag

2011-08-28T17:26:00.000-05:00

I'm going to eat humble pie, as I admit your errors and wait for you to apologize. With a flash in the pan, whichever type they are called, certain politicians are promising at the start but then disappointing. The better of two evils to sword of Damocles, now because of incompetent communist controls our freedom is sacrificed leaving us indefensible from any imminent danger. The dangers were merely hiding on Skid Row waiting to kill the sleeping giant, we have become under duress of a failed politic the David that must end Goliath found in the disreputable part of town inhabited by derelicts and charlatans. There's only one place to find crocodile tears, would we feign victory with insincere tears, for the lowly predators cannot hasten the instinct of predation. There are those among us who are bad and those who are idiots, some of them are both, they have put a wet blanket on our natural growth, so that the curious may grow freely we must be the one who spoils the fun of anarchists. There is not one amongst who should be taken to throw down the gauntlet, resistance builds strength, to challenge someone is only the first question if any other, discordant revolution comes to despots who ask questions of the needy. This Socratic irony delivers Hobson's choice, nature dies if it to have no choice at all. Those who have stock in trade will not trust thieves, the goods, tools, and other requisites of prosperity cannot be lost to those who need loans to keep promises. Thieves want to pass the buck so it is important to never pay someone to evade responsibility. The naive will buy a pig in a poke, after letting-in swindlers with a handshake and a smile, only to suffer a poor purchase and a blind item in a specious pretense. With conservative intentions as they try to pour oil on troubled waters, a predator waits for opportunity with patience for the moment, in order to make peaces and calm people they must be alive and not savaged. It is time to carry the day, before denial moves to win the approval of the majority. When solutions choose to go up-in smoke, it is due to problematic persons choosing to come to no practical result. Nature always wins because it cannot suffer the first of any Pyrrhic victory, unfortunate and ill fated a battle with no war is too costly a victory. To beard the lion in his den, where the darkness is without light, a claimant moves to visit and oppose a person on their grounds. They will speak of a place where they are feeling no pain, but drunk with power they will not show you suffering. If you choose to rule the roost your mind must choose to be in charge, but logic must choose to be master. As the allies of heroes become strung out and need to be taken down a peg, remember that there is nowhere to take the conceit of a braggart and certainly nowhere to hide it.

Basic Connections

2011-08-25T18:25:00.000-05:00

Describe a real-life situation that uses at least five of the network connections described in this chapter one. (ISBN-13: 978-0-538-45261-8)

LAN Center: A computer center for PC gamers grants access to an intranet/LAN for multiple users to play a web game. These computers access the internet for maps and access to gaming servers to verify accounts which have purchased the game as well. This also allows other LANs from outside, to access their game. Smart phones in the center can use a wireless connection to view their fantasy 'football' scores or do some online gambling, or even use secure verification to access a MAN for public sector or news-media jobs. The internet connection provided by the computer cafe can usually also connect to general internet services email, etc., to access mail servers anywhere in the world. sometimes DNS branching can interrupt a direct route. new apps on smartphones can use sensor data in streets or even nightclubs to inform a user, where satellite tv's broadcast media and have interactive weather services. cell phones use the atmosphere with microwaves, and in short distances around essential areas of the city, like hospitals and governmental buildings, a shortwave microwave tower transmits high-bandwidth connections for emergency services, in some cases. they look like wide drums turned on their side, i read this is how New Zealand gets their internet from Australia where ATM terminals can verify global financial data.

Typogramical

2011-08-19T07:00:00.000-05:00

Here are some great typos and incorrect words. 

annonality  frumptydo clolottes sewt beakerstoge odiousted nordiscular  ampoutlifinan dept regalitrous baristocrastant crity unicating pinolumbl  I ordinitie granstrify hibernacracy mananoid cleptocrat unexpectaclly  barganize proverbiable confusiton proceurality sarcasmistic conversated  commontators slowling morgate entrepreneurialship blothiated  perservation idealogues favoratism permaculture contineu  intellectualness sabateurs unexplainably embattle teracite haphazardity  reconolite innevitibilities portionless superfuidities unweariedly  turmulent apotheosized fortalize malefiesience tantivity alluvian  indurated agitants covasion smokoe usnea laetation laetion succedaneous  cosmogonal polamogeterns villosities reeved unweildly cicle  effectivelessness vesparate howver plexed scandious observedly scandian  versicolor swifting dylaetaunts glaucous regentry provend drosses  plottingly imperialized wastingly provends offensible distinguishment  ebriosity bellum duellum countells reflectionless trodding quelch  titherward bvegins anytghing geinst fatalizing conatest vonsets  overclearing ponderances wreakened toritiei deciviens zin annen mannen  goost ap habe endiver slos micasfrickt pececce bannic gott pur rretas  vorlickt metas frins alppe finygan blloot smeras repase bron veder  nasalam perisc zan arbur mak menas dellif ands lyk da fotlus vykes  viscously apprehensious untarried assistingly embattler 

Innocence

2011-08-12T03:35:00.030-05:00

The Associated Press: FACT CHECK: Republican debate strains some facts
Associated Press writers Erica Werner and Alan Fram in Washington, Brian Bakst in St. Paul, Minn., and Philip Elliott in Ames, Iowa, contributed to this report. By CALVIN WOODWARD

12 August 2011 circa 3AM CST [more like they strained some facts]

Fact: The writers of the article are a bit slow, I wont be surprised if the article disappears so i clipped what bothered me. Here are some excerpts made by team "Impolitic" from the derisive article concerning last night's GOP debate, followed by my retort.

1. their statement regarding Mrs. Bachmann: "THE FACTS: Nothing is unconstitutional until courts declare it to be so."

this implies that the President and any supporters/advocators of the legislation have the right to remove personal freedom from purchasing action when it does not harm others. Incorrect.

2. their statement regarding Mr. Romney: "But that proposal had no chance of becoming law and settling the crisis, and leaders in both parties knew it. It was one of several initiatives brought forward by both Republicans and Democrats for show before both sides got down to the authentic bipartisan negotiations. During that process, Romney did not lay out a prescription that was achievable in a time of divided government"

this is simple conjecture, this quote's 'chances' are theoretical, and knowing what others knew is purely hypothetical-logic. I think mentioning 'authentic bipartisan' was fairly honest if not biased, if these items are untrue then mentioning Romney's plan as not 'achievable in a time of division' is purely partisanship.

they continue writing, "Supporting the earlier GOP bill was a far cry from stating whether he would have signed or vetoed the final debt limit legislation,"

but Romney gave an official statement opposing the action, and in the debate had mentioned it just moments prior. A clear case of prejudice by the authors.

3. Their statement regarding Mr. Santorum: "THE FACTS: The former Pennsylvania senator might have been mixing statistics on federal spending with federal revenue. The White House budget office has estimated that federal spending this year will equal about 25 percent of the country's $15 trillion economy — the highest proportion since World War II. But federal spending has averaged nearly 22 percent since 1970. In fact, federal spending has not been as low as 18 percent since 1966. Since the 1970s, federal revenues have averaged nearly 19 percent of the U.S. economy. This year's revenues are expected to equal just over 14 percent of the economy, the lowest level since 1950."

federal spending cannot be 25% of a $15T economy, because the federal government doesn't collect 100% in taxes. classic liberalism, i was pleased that facts were presented in this portion, but very disappointed that they were irrelevant. simply put, case in point any one with a foot can tell you that the federal budget is in deficit, if it were merely 25% than the entire debate would be in 'Back to the Future 4: Ancient Future'... to mention percentages of revenue as federal spending omits that of what is collected, public debt consumes the remaining revenue (and in this case, more money than we have) + they are missing statistics.

- the impolitic article is volatile and detracted into leftist propaganda - i think their school of thought is 'if you can't dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit.'

4. Ombudsman:
(Wikipedia) An ombudsman (conventional English plural: ombudsmen) is a person who acts as a trusted intermediary between an organization and some internal or external constituency while representing not only but mostly the broad scope of constituent interests. An ombudsman is an official, usually appointed by the government or by parliament, who is charged with representing the interests of the public by investigating and addressing complaints reported by individual citizens.

(Merriam-Webster) One that investigates, reports-on, and helps settle complaints.

I guess these FIVE liberals missed the memo, or they shouldn't write/post papers at two in the morning desperate to slander republicans.

"...Wicked-minded, out of control, And guided by their hunger, They will find new ways to betray us, Your corruption is like a cancer growing inside, You owe the world an apology, You've been taught all your life, That truth is easy to hide, You face your judgment another day, And suffer eternally..."
Innocence - Disturbed

The Conscription Act

2011-08-10T22:53:00.000-05:00

The Conscription Act

Herein includes propositions of entitlement reform and circumstances regarding social service benefits to be recognized as the conservative conscription act, and economic principles defining monetary socialism parameters for remaining within the boundaries of the Balanced Budget Amendment.

Upon or during the removal of welfare and entitlement programs, welfare funds are no longer to be used for commercial items, entitlement funds received by individuals will be solely used for government food stuffs, whereas provision unprovided will be acquired by personal employment.

Social Medical Services, better known as Medicaid, will under mandate provide birth control options, of which include optional surgical birth control methods for both genders. All recipients must be tested for illicit narcotics, alcohol, nicotine, and also full dermatological topographical records taken for tattoos and piercings. Violations to existing drug laws will be prosecuted. Consensual relations and casual drug use beyond limitations of the Conscription Act will require employment and documented dismissal from social services. Children born during residency may be subject to physical evaluation for youth academy military conscription of no more than one month if a valid conscription law is applicable, only after the child reaches an age of 16 years, upon which time both parental and pupil consent can be made for full enlistment.

Public housing and housing entities leased by investment groups for rental purposes will be subject to inspection and police regulation, by which all activities therein are considered hostile thus disregarding need for a search warrant protocol. During each inspection by a survey officer each unit shall be clean and serviceable, each designated residence is subject to inspections at any time required and during regular inspections that each and every resident must be notified at time of dorm assignment. As a ward of the state luxury items will be inventoried, domiciles will be cleared of any luxuries deemed possessions of excess, if these luxury items wish to be kept, employment, documentation, and rent must be charged according to property value or energy costs to improve campus quality. Residence can be refused by any citizen at any time, if employment wages surpass the poverty level each resident by rendition will immediately be referred to a community relocation program to find suitable housing in the private sector without haste.

Recipients of social services must have documented employment, verified electronically or by physical documentation, or be subject to public labor and/or social work. Labors required will suffice the encompassing community requirements of sustainability and repair where that person lives or works. Adaptations including luxury items to a communal environment, though permissible, upon appraisal may be instantly deemed public property and removed at any time for funding purposes. Objections can only reverse this process by documented employment and dejection from the social services program, upon which time items must be reimbursed but not replaced unless said item is available. Children under the age of 18 not receive passing scores, or if educational requirements are not met, their households may be penalized by reduction of services, these reductions are not to include emergency or humanitarian services but may include all else.

All privileges, services, solutions, entitlements, and vocations are entirely voluntary, upon receiving financial aid recipients must be notified of above conditions and by documented approval verify the terms of social services that are neither reversible nor subject to alteration. All payments by condition of rule are to be fully volitional, standards of productivity may be spoken against but shall never change, dissent to working standards is allowed with comprehension that Social Services regards inactivity as demeaning and degrading, and may result in rejection from the project community.

The definitions of crime and punishment shall not be exaggerated for social service recipients. Offenses against social service residents by official capacity or citizen will be immediately be subject to the criminal charge of Summary Offense or "Felony". Where the gathering of people in unfortunate circumstances occurs the criminal element of society shall be persecuted by the full extent of the law.

Recipients of Social Services or government subsistence shall not retain rights to vote unless documented employment is provided establishing verifiable wages above poverty levels, or if a voting license is purchased, thus voluntarily providing a distinction between citizen and civilian. This provision provides the necessary distinction relegated to avoid a conflict of interest for Social Services recipients who may be haphazardly intent, knowingly or unknowingly, to indefinitely extending and/or exhausting the welfare state.

Compulsory military enlistment, commonly known as conscription, is not a current requirement of this clause entitled The Conscription Act, unless at a later time amendment legislation is written and passed by two-thirds of both the Senate and House of Representatives, followed by approval of the President of the United States.