31 October 2013

Demonic Reliquary

Somethings you have for long periods forgotten because of the strange genetic indifference. This I've had for a decade and I forgot it existed, all things considered, I'd like to know what it says. Neither my phone browser nor the language app can scan it for decoding. As I assume its purpose I'd guess that its not that old and the writing is 10th century Japanese (or more likely 20th century imperial army defector). I'll never know without help because I don't speak calligraphy, my clan stopped drawing on cave walls at least a year ago, it is relatively for a predicative measure to protect my insanity and grey matter, at least enough to remember that being unemployed its in fashion and appropriate to call myself a writer and an artist, which I thought was high time to do here in an entry and not in my sentry day by dailies. Ultimately I'm hoping that it is either the gaffer's name, which I add, I will take care of your bottle; or that it be something of a more fantastical element. I more wish earnestly that it is a demons' prison or a soul catcher or something. It could be how the slaves of vampires transport blood to their dark masters, some may say that it isn't even empty and that concerns me enough to warrant knowing what the sigil means, I've already opened the cork so......; There are any number of things it can do, perhaps it will save the souls of the dying, to be released at the sacred garden, or perhaps it captures souls for vile sanctimonious spells of incarnate wrath, were it to open may hap the souls of warlocks be drawn within it, so that those wicked casters of disaster spells be held captive and in contempt of court, or contempt of courtesans in parlor trick stealing people's shadows at parties to disillusion paranoid tyrants and amaze children who are as cynical because of young age; or even worse, the souls of the innocent stolen for martyr spells;

I don't know if it is cursed containing the world's most dangerous demons in current existence, and perhaps a few misguided Simonians, or not, and like some bad pelicula an international imports company just happened to sell to someone downtown a reliquary that becomes the demise of daylight, and I now have it, it would be disconcerting in the least. So yeah, I'm going to ask my buddy on darknet to translate it for me. It may have some Valkyrie use, holy oil, to transport or ferment the most dangerous poisons from the serpents of the depths of hell, or better yet could instantly bless water, or turn it into wine; I'd really like it to catch demons, but wouldn't we all - if it even caught ghosts or jinn, that'd be cool, and i think glass doesn't hold deities, it might've likely come from someone who bought dragon breath and the symbols kept it from melting; in any case it's served its purpose shared and now I can fill it with the five elements and break it on top of a mountain so that the world be covered in magic and the good be given greater strength to defend themselves from bureaucracy and other crazy acts of inadequate folly overcompensation. Bound to a soul so that the moment it breaks I die, intensely, or a secret society that prays to bottles, hoping an alchemy spirit is summoned within it, thousands of children around the world looking at an empty bottle hoping for a genie to do their bidding. It's probably easier to walk the line between fantasy and reality when on the ground between the two, the tightrope seems more suitable for creatures with wings. I knew a dude who thought he hunted demons and died during an illegal search and seizure, but failed to survive in his understanding of the world when he couldn't think outside of the box, and by that I mean, because after he couldn't trap them in a box, so he tried to stop them with it.

If you have outlawed fiction because you are leftists, or have done so because you are rightists, there are worse things than monsters....

Īṣa Upaniṣad, The Inner Ruler, Isha 3, "There are demon-haunted worlds, regions of utter darkness. Whoever in life denies the Spirit falls into that darkness of death."

27 October 2013

Throw Down The Gauntlets

Questions for Free-Market Moralists - NYTimes.com

|| Based on the link above, there were SEVERAL paragraphs of utter commie monarchist horse shit, then these questions. The problem is, fascism, that these questions come with propagandized and nearly illiterate answers. You/one can click the link to read the drivel and the narrative, but I'm going to ride this socialist pony, after all, airing my free speech is only the fair thing to do. I've defenestrated the author's specious answers because of their equivocations, for example, after the each question the writer puts, "If you say yes, then you think..." and that's absurd. If you believe that, I have a mountain to sell you. One/you can't know the reader's thoughts, nor speak in absolutes without showing evidence, especially when basing the argument on theoretical units of value. To the author, get a dictionary, I don't THINK I can dumb it to your level. ||

1. Is any exchange between two people in the absence of direct physical compulsion by one party against the other (or the threat thereof) necessarily free?

| | Yes. (i know you pinkos disagree). Even to the strictly dystopian de-regulatory property laws, in any action of bartering or commerce, the currency, be it money or goods, has a value. The act of commerce is not value, except for those buying inventory for a business (in which they are paid for their services), this process is deemed legally as the exchange of items, legal to both sides of the political spectrum, insomuch that both intend for people to have time when they are not laboring. I don't object to this being a question, but I do object to its premise, in legal terms it misleads the witness, by implying that all exchanges are done by compulsory measures, and thus is attempting to justify (his client's) felonious extortion. | |

2. Is any free (not physically compelled) exchange morally permissible?

| | Yes. The right to create for the community being the goal of community ownership defines non compulsory exchange between the productive members of society and the bureaucrats as essential, and thus allows any exchange to be permissible when acquiring the results of work, for each, community, family, or self, and to disallow exchange would be a contradiction to that effort, and the lack thereof results in the dictionary definition of a system of slavery. Next question. | |

3. Do people deserve all they are able, and only what they are able, to get through free exchange?

| | This question has no answer, for it presumes that the ability of a person is restricted to the approval of spiritual forces, thus hypothetical and irrelevant, but I'll speak on it.

A person is no more than they are, if the exchange is limited to ability then credit/financing would plausibly deemed illegal for its inefficacy and the ideas of 'need' and 'want' would not be an element to the human condition, and, confining the definition of ability to worth subjects the argument itself to the very conditions of limitation and becomes a blatant contradiction to the overlying political tyranny, as I mentioned in question one. Next question. | |

4. Are people under no obligation to do anything they don’t freely want to do or freely commit themselves to doing?

| | Yes. 'If you say yes, you're a this or that' shut the fuck up. This question is difficult, but only because it's the first actual question the writer produces that isn't suckling in primacy. I can answer it, because I'm not 7-years-old anymore. I'm this many [holds up 30 middle fingers].

This question addresses "Chaos theory", such as, the questions of society that ask whether we need protect, defend, or adjudicate ourselves. This I, in my own individual brain where I form an identity with or without the approval of society, think is considered the "harm principle," whereas actions have results, and what level of those results become consequences and their differing from illicit behavior that a community deems taboo or tabloid, all of which cannot be relevantly identified, or controlled for that matter, if any level of hypocrisy is ruining the scientific necessity for regularity.

Let's say, a haughty political-party-douche-bag fascist who is paid to write bullshit articles, or a privileged disconnected and vain affluent child writes an article, (or both as it seems,) then closes it with a lengthy fallacy to match the opening statements, decides to say that their defamation of "conservatives" needs to be protected (hugely ironically being conservative in and of itself), yet find those defamed and abused to have earned said writer's dilettante useless hate without venerable evidence to the point. This would be a double standard, and any egregious compulsion would lack compunction. Trees fall on houses, but that's not a reason to burn forests. Half of nothing, is still nothing. | |

|| What the fuck, only four questions? ||
|| Vive la résistance, Maquis ||
|| @mjbanks ||

21 October 2013

Angry Frogs

http://memecrunch.com/meme/U0R0/middle-fingers-frog  (←make your own)

Some of you may again remember the other angry this frog. The widely documented phenomenon of frogs showing people the stfu middle finger(s) is where the common saying 'flipping the bird' originates, as frogs and birds are not the best of friends. Anyway, this is that frog's dancing frog-cousin. Both of their names are Frog, it only gets confusing during Frogmas. 

Q: Why are frogs so happy?
A: They eat watever bugs them!

Q: What is the first book a tadpole reads?
A: Metamorphosis by Kafka.

Q: How do you apologize to a witch?
A: Ribbit! (a magic spell turned me into a frog)

Q: What is a frog's favorite game?
A: Croquet.

Q: What is a frog's favorite subject in frog-college?
A: Particle Physics, particularly String-Theory. 

Q: What is a frog's favorite froggernet factoid (via iPad)?
A: The hop count refers to the amount of routing devices that data must pass, between source and destination, rather than flowing directly over a single wire. 


"When you are you, you see things as they are, and you become one with your surroundings. There is your self. There you have true practice; you have the practice of a frog. Here is a good example of our practice – when a frog becomes a frog, Zen becomes Zen. When you understand a frog through and through, you attain enlightenment" ~ Shunryu Suzuki

For those of you in the wonder, I'm M3 +20ch, M4 (≈4ch), G +1ch , NT +1ch, and obviously not mentally well.


16 October 2013

Merlin 3:29 “Lilith Immaculate”

Merlin 3:29 “Lilith Immaculate”
~ @mjbanks   

Lilith stands where Sino had stood less than a day ago, in hills and rising darkness, smelling the blood and fire from the game, not knowing specifically who is in the city of rings, with a general premonition in a purely magical sense of how many conjurers are in the fireworks war, and the severity of conjurations despite her wellbeing.  Watching the occasional blast, her stunning glare alluring stare innocently seductive becomes black eyes ensorcelled to the slow of time, watching where thru her vision darkness rules over the light.

Lilith: “Fenrir, darling; ravage, damage, tear and scorn, leave blood to attract the bats, and make a mockery of them.”

She stares as if to assess him, moments, until he leaps forth bountifully.

Down in the city where the warlocks mete their mettle, the witch Ceres faces werewolf, Sino puts his fiery fingers into the side of the beast’s neck and she pikes it in the heart with a side-stretched arm. The spike slides thru with magical force and ease as she walks beside the creature, only to take the bloody spear exiting from behind it, a clean dainty hand of carnage folding to nothing short of blood. Fenrir and reinforcements leaping into the city cause Sino to prepare for a more explosive black magic war in aid to her, but gone she has and are thus his to solely deter.

Lilith walks thru the street with a seductively reticent walk, as the wolves attack and battle witches and wizards and warlocks and warriors, fates of hesitant powers unfold the chaotic disasterpiece, stars shunning the malice in a theater of tempered resolution that defense in evil would seem underwhelming, as the tide of conflict shocks the spies in the shadows. She keeps to her walking as the hateful avarice of indignant apathy, killing the wounded until a brave soldier finds her to be suspiciously calm and attacks her, wherefore she converts his steel that he may fall onto his own sword, sliding over it against his wishes as she continues pacing.

Werewolves attacking Sino’s plausible recruits, gathered new and serrated kinship by the dayside, as he abandons them as bait, spotting Lilith in cruelty. She waits at an alley keeping perception in parity between the lane and the center in periphery, eventually holding her hand to signal a werewolf in attack to halt with prey grasped. Looking between the walls, she waves at a desperate magician to find solace, and thereby offers inescapable malice. She outstretches her hand and twists the werewolf’s soul, preventing it from killing its wizard prey with her agonizing magic, it howls as she approaches, her hand glows white and explodes anent the beast, blasting it aside with shredded wound not healing and liken to fresh offal. Fires raging and quelling by magic, the surrounding screams unbridled, her captive victim shaken and singed, is only young.

Lilith: “I have disregard for beasts that are more minions than pets. Where is the conspirator Sino?”
Cao (Guojiu): “He is behind you.”

Lilith turns and Sino is there and Cao has vanished, light-footed running with the ground behind him temporarily shallow quicksand, by breaking a fang from the werewolf as he had long intended, and instantaneously disappearing in the blink of an eye, one glance and she turns again to her target.

Lilith: “If you're going to kill kings good and bad, I'll fill the void as it were, and be better at worse, be you reckless or abandon, I shall hence be bad to worse.”
Sino: “Why do, you, care who I kill?”
Lilith: “I care to kill, your intellect attracts you to power, over a monarchy pithy, you destroy so that you may fix, what in place you could not make better – and this is your fate!"

Lilith outstretches her hand, quickly with the tide of the underworld at her command, the air afore her extension becomes vaulting black fire, fomenting bright laced with hot whiteness flames, spreading like a seething and miring web. Sino averts by returning magic defense a spray of red fire that cracks thunderously thru the air manifestly that fades over her, dissipating like the mist and gathers behind her as the ashes of atmosphere. He throws an explosive canister that expounds its potential, but she catches its blast and denies its fury, crushing the kilned pieces into the dust of immortal decay, withholding the immolation and swinging it thru the air, coursing it with the detrimental death ethereal magic and returning it to Sino as he vacates with utmost expediency of urgency outmatched.

Lilith: "Are you running, Sino? I expected ever more."
Sino: "Such it is little in difference between holy and hellfire."

His shouting from behind a boulder heavy broken piece of wall, lifting and stirring between commotions, the walls left standing beginning to burn in places toward their braces, acerbic multifarious ratiocination stirring with adrenaline and instinct.

Sino: "Did Merlin send you?"
Lilith: "Do you imply Merlin the madman? ...his future is dark, this is an adjustment of fate as much an attack, for you as it is him..."

A long pause as Sino runs now of her silence seemingly absent, in haste every moment hence, the hieing pace of running steps, from a pouch he grabs a glass marble and places it on a dusty ledge of a stonewall, desperate to remain obscured by the ongoing city of conflict, and running to his next locale. Departing the marble fills with red smoke, in of air and water changing color and swirling labors as he continues looking thru the pockets of the dead magician of the lesser Arcana. While noticing wounds of a dispirited nature, a werewolf vaults to him and he grabs its forearm with unnatural strength and strangles it with his other hand, soon gripping in both hands choking it as if it were a vermin pup. Utter madness in both of their eyes until its demise.

Of his search for objects from the dead, by yet another fallen wizard, he searches one whom he had not met, a yeoman or disciple apprentice learning the arts in this academy, now walls of carnage, whom had kept things of prestidigitation and children's parlor tricks.

Sino: "You should have been saved, youngling."

Sino continues pacing the broken encircling streets, searching for mages with signs of smoke stains on their dead hands, killers justified standing exhausted and victorious over bodies, wolves still hunting begin the sport of combat with their isolated preys. A song of war, some encircled by townsfolk, others by alchemists or by both, franticly some escaping on foot, some magicians, some humans whom are benefice in their help of escaping, some strategic and  intent on ending witchcraft this moment with forest advantage, in the city awhile Lilith pacing death's trail catches Sino run thru her peripheral vision.

Lilith: "You should not be helping the Valkyrie; a lesson must be given..."

The marbles begin to fill with a new grey smoke and now melt, Sino’s eyes not solely losing focus as he begins hexing.

Sino: "Halt your heavy hand. So Hel sent you? Have you come to keep the peace that Hell demands?"
Lilith: "It is enough to keep the Valkyrie in their place, for what, you, have done, we have a special place for you..."

Lilith steps into the lane before him twenty paces and stops, looking in the eyes hesitant of the fate. With only one new step of her Sino raises his hand, she hesitates staring eyes, bringing her second step forward a black illumined smoke comes from his hand, shared with the other hand two fires. Spreading his arms until black fire to both sides of him, his favorite black lighting fills the air soon igniting the ashen red mist of melted glass that has since become vapor in the air adjacent. A massive explosion, shaking ground and sky with rising fire, as solid walls become massive stones flying at Lilith. She turns to shield herself with an arm. With Sino already fleeing as smoke drifts around her, a bright white shielding aura burns thru the rubble, she walks, kicking a stone the size of a barrel wheel like a pebble, a sign of disapproval, a sign of anger, there is one word, a name, she mutters.

Lilith: "Fenrir..."

As she walks from the ashes of the wake, a calm disposition controls her, as approaches a likely giving of little respect. Hearing his name thru shadow of silence, Fenrir stops toying with humans, mere mortals who have encircled him without his fear present, wounding one in leaping bounteously in escape, of which eschewing egress makes Sino’s departure also in full. Fenrir approaches unchanged, still in mannish lupine form, strengthened and bound by the moon.

Fenrir: "Buried?"
Lilith: "No, go the woods take all directions! Find the conspirator! Kill all in your path!"

Pooled blood rippled with the shaking of the ground caused by his inner cadre werewolves taking to the hunt, she scoffs that still he is lead by his scent of all simple things.

The antipathy of her frustration unfettered by concience she walks defined by disappointment in the dearth of anarchist foments. The battles lost or slayings innocent victorious are games of hunt afoot, deleterious persecutions of tantalizing gruff-coated razorbacks and devilish sharp smiles of sinister harlots, unsavory malice instinctual ingraining conflicted forethought thru preservation, innocence lost on warriors, witches, wizards, werewolves, but none too much assessed as demoniac entertainment as by her.

In so much dismay, the warrior known for the very speed of his fighting skills holds two swords brandished like whips. Trying to battle werewolves as they disinterestedly depart, escaping thrice of fate's creuel thorned grasp he darts from slender alleyway, covered in dirt and dust and blood, only to collide with strolling Lilith. The back of his right shoulder to the front of her left, it almost shifts her footing and assuredly disgruntling her with dirtying her dress with his debris. Her tyranny switches to fury, her toe lifts and her arms stretch toward the perpetrator, quite deftly fast, lunging two steps for each one with her talons forward, running her claws into his chest and round his heart, thru the bones of his chestplate, tearing it from his breast, without the slightest smile to her face.

A red hand of running blood and dying beating heart, a new smile graces her face and eyes without darkness in the color and murky with silver, lines of red rolling down her arm and onto her dress.

Lilith: “Only, I will cover myself in blood and only blood.”

A blast behind her and she spins to face it, tossing the otherwise clean blood arterial heart aside while flinging her arm out, pale skin with blood on her lips, and the tip of her passing tongue, dashing into the fight anew.

Merlin, running around concrentric chaos, flying thru blasts, hiding from sight better in shadows than in moonlight, a macabre dance Lilith sees him as paths intersect. In the clearing ahead of her a body flies from light, and there next  stands Merlin, pausing and turning to her noticing, from her immediately he runs, as she calls to him with feminine clarity.

Lilith: "Imagine me following you until you die, Merlin, I only talked with your broken pupil, and I now find the liege who broke him!"

With a wave of her hand, she moves aside the fire and coals to clear the sand for her reproach, rivers from the ashes of light and the storms of silence between the screams ceremonious to her. She walks into a fire and a portal traversed exits a fire elsewhere in the city, cornering Merlin he throws an explosive jar at her, he flees as she discards the flames like the wind thru winter.

Lilith: “How very typical of man, make noise and run.”

Lilith follows him turning thrice thru corridors the night with fire, as if the day, Merlin free of her sight, but still feeling trapped by the sight and sound of werewolves prowling hidden rooftops, landing on the ground a stone's throw from him. Merlin lunges at her, with a wave of her hand she casts him aside like a paper door, thru market cart and fire and into wall he finally falls on the ground, she walks to him.

Lilith: “I am the birth of death, which you, smooth and ugly albeit, are part and partial know not your place. I outmatch you with all this fire. Your former student, you will catch him, and destroy him."

One werewolf ready for her word to destroy, she raises her hand and it calms.

Lilith: "Or I will have two hearts to devour. Do you understand me?"
Merlin: "I fear don't have a choice..."
Lilith: “You are weak; this is a teachable moment, Merlin. My wrath has such importance that there must be witnesses to my path or to watch me dying. Let my contempt pass thru you to Sino, do this as bade, or there will be neither for you when I find you next."
Merlin: "A bid farewell, this is the only way, and is what I was doing when you attacked the fort."
Lilith: "I could not have known. Where is the one whom refuses death, Merlin?"
Merlin: "He’s here somewhere…"
Lilith: "Have not reservations, for I have let you live, and lies are not the strength of a good man like you ...do my bidding, stay alive..."

She walks from him, his head barely over the ground and vision still clarifying, viewing sideways her, departing in the hour of dusk and defiance.

15 October 2013

Merlin 3:28 “Blood and Thunder”

Merlin 3:28 “Blood and Thunder”
~ @mjbanks

To the lowlands a full moon rises above linden trees, the blue-sky night menacing void lingers on the rampant doom, brazen is their power, emblazoned is the hour, flaming are the towers, a war of worth has come. Addressing chaos with retaliation ten wizards, eleven warlocks, twelve warlords, and thirteen warriors, brawling within the confines of the outer wall, balancing tomes of acrimony against the werewolves of Lilith and Fenrir, address their fates. Many more farmers and common ilk battle in the serfdom fields with even less luck, rising with farming tools abound aloud and screaming as they are tossed aside more like nuisance than nemeses. Outlandishly and in unnatural pestilence, the lupine beasts taking no pain from their injuries as their sinews and synapses both pull straining discord as hellion bone and blood that heal slowly and surely in the blatant moonlight.

Penances to claws and clashes in summary conflict, magicians being their hated and hunted prey any victory resides solely with concerted efforts the result of anger, magic to slow and any weapon to dismember and wroth to cease mutts from mutilating them, and yet still not a true death or solution. Unless to leap from while slashing or onto while crashing the berserkers, man wolf more dangerous than bear, are formidable in their least.

Within the militarized circle, Sino has not escaped the carnage, taunting between fighting measures, across the battle of bloodshed in abundance and brutal blasts, two wizards similar each wading the war with powers dark and light, come tête-à-tête, thrashing any foe dare nears.

Merlin: “The war source is your certainty and mirrored dream.”
Sino: “My goal is to spread lies about myself, just like all good men.”
Merlin: “Renowned purity will end the war.”
Sino: “Where evil hides, without conscriptions of the able?”
Merlin: “There is obeisance, and there is askance.”

Merlin’s fingers electrify, a wolf leaps to him, but Merlin steps aside growing electricity that consumes the werewolf, which collides with the collapse of an already crumbling wall, a man almost, flies from roof with spear impaling it.

Sino: “Without leadership, there will be endless war.”
Merlin: “Perceiving all conflict a reflection, meets many a hunter, and never to kill.”

Eyes set to kill, watching from the darkness staring atop shadowy wall, rising silhouette of muscular beast, Sino having been watching the darkness rise, a smile and narrowing eyes he digs his foot as if ready to point fire at Merlin, lurking menace deciding which magic blood to taste.

Sino: “Wrong again.”

The fangs of a veracious appetite, content to carve and tear and drain with misdemeanor and puerile volatility, temperately offensive, distinguishment worthy of a wolf and its midsummer-night dream. The spear-driving battler of oft bloodshed leaps thru one of the last intact windows without simple fracture, rolling to his feet with sword in hand and sinister clouded eyes, staring madly at Sino.

The dust disheveled beneath Sino’s feet rolls as he runs into the shadowed stricture between two abodes. Merlin turns looks and leans after him, the man from thru the window kneeling in exhaustion, as the werewolf leaps, certain to spearhead Merlin’s glowing hands as he leans the direction he flies, gliding over his feet brighter his palms glowing and smoky-blue, rushing to a lamppost with the hound on his heels. As he reaches the lantern built sturdy for storm  Merlin snaps it by wherewithal norms, breaking it like a dry corn stalk, grimacing fangs of wolf fur-covered grimace are here batted with a turn and mighty smash, he tosses the heavy steel baton on the beast and torching creature ignited and ignored.

Half the fighters are dying loudly or silently bloodily dead, warriors and some wizards, three other wolves on the encircling roof, watching their pack mate burn and stand, with fiery wounds of flesh burning and healing simultaneously as they tower at their leaping points, intent to reconcile flesh as food to reproach their palates with tithe bound of deathly clutch.

Merlin abounds transfixing his focus of direction, but in an instant turns and slogs with a club at the beast and again until it rests. A cringing toil another beast leaps thrice, twice of two walls, crashing thru weapons cases and runs aloft smoldering once ignited by fire of Merlin’s hex of white sparks, a younger werewolfling chased with one of the spilled weapons from an otherwise locked armory box by the daring acrobat master bred and born of the warrior city. A nameless assassin, who will live to write his name in the blood of his next self-assigned targets, oft as many ravaging stampeding teams trace the bloody grounds, other warriors launching fatal unsporting cross-bolts from fortified places and makeshift defilade, trapped within castle made of only walls fabricated to keep the plentiful game of the dark forest at bay.

Caution: Content May Contain Words

13 October, 2013.

1121 days
26917 hours
1615073 minutes
96904383 seconds

...until Obama is OUT OF OFFICE


empty date, user name unallocated/assigned (I'm not famous but you could've at least put my name in it), health services attained by The Great Void, thanks me for making changes on my first submission; it's like a pseudo-intellectual liberal joke about the private-sector marketplace they think isn't real, for $600+ million.

[4:32:26 pm]: Thanks for contacting Health Insurance Marketplace Live Chat. Please wait while we connect you to someone who can help.

[4:32:29 pm]: Please be patient while we're helping other people.

[4:32:35 pm]: Welcome! You're now connected to Health Insurance Marketplace Live Chat.
Thanks for contacting us. My name is Melissa. To protect your privacy, please don't provide any personal information, like Social Security Number, or any other sensitive medical or personal information.

[4:32:50 pm]: Melissa
How may I help you?

[4:33:34 pm]: Matthew
I'm at the "View Eligibility Result" page, i viewed the PDF and it doesn't say if I qualify, or what to do next.

Big blank space, overbuffered text

[4:34:40 pm]: Melissa
I apologize for the inconvenience.

[4:34:44 pm]: Melissa
Is the page blank?

[4:35:50 pm]: Matthew
No, but several sections are. The "What should I do next?" section is blank. Please explain.

[4:36:17 pm]: Melissa
Sometimes the pop-up blocking software that is installed on your computer can cause you difficulty in viewing certain information on the Internet. Turning off your pop-up blocker may allow you to see the information you are having trouble accessing.

[4:36:58 pm]: Matthew
That's nice, the pdf is missing sections. Can you tell me what the next step for me to acquire the insurance is?

[4:37:46 pm]: Melissa
Unfortunately, I am unable to answer your question. However, you can reach us toll free at 1-800-318-2596.

[4:38:14 pm]: Matthew
So i just game [sic, oops] my personal information and time for nothing?

[4:38:56 pm]: Matthew
How about this.

[4:39:05 pm]: Melissa
No, of course not. All your information will be saved so next time you log in, you will not have to input it again.

[4:39:18 pm]: Matthew
What would be the typical next step for someone who is trying to get insurance via the site?

Please contact the following numbers that are not following.
[4:40:47 pm]: Melissa
After you submitted your application, we will send you your results via mail.

[4:42:09 pm]: Matthew
Should the same result occur, I'll go to the 'welfare' office and apply for the insurance that i can't afford and didn't want and couldn't get on a $635 million website for the tech support that told me a popup blocker blanked a pdf space.

[4:43:27 pm]: Melissa
I apologize for the inconvenience.

[4:43:32 pm]: Melissa
Do you have any other questions that I can help you with?

[4:45:32 pm]: Matthew
The form says I can access my HIP information via this website, how do I do that?

[4:47:06 pm]: Melissa
Do you mean the health insurance plans?

[4:49:03 pm]: Matthew

[4:49:55 pm]: Matthew
the pdf says to access "HealthCare.gov/marketplace" but that page doesn't exist.


[4:50:16 pm]: Matthew
$635 million dollars, and the page doesn't exist.

the (at the time) dead link, and; the repeating glitch referring me to another agency?, wtf
[4:50:41 pm]: Melissa
We have a lot of visitors trying to use our website. This is causing some glitches for some people trying to create accounts or log in. There is no estimated resolution time. We thank you for your patience and ask you to try again. Meanwhile, I can send you a link that you may use to get estimated pricing.

[4:50:51 pm]: Melissa
Let me send you the link.

[4:51:01 pm]: Melissa

[4:51:50 pm]: Melissa
Do you have any other questions that I can help you with?

[4:53:23 pm]: Matthew
good think [sic, oops] I wasn't trying to do those things. I am not searching for premiums, I have no income, and I only am applying because it is now the law. Where, perhaps, would that page be? 

[4:56:11 pm]: Melissa
You may find a lot of useful information on healthcare.gov about exemptions being that you stated you currently have no income.

[4:56:43 pm]: Matthew
and yet I didn't and am asking tech support.

[4:57:06 pm]: Melissa
You may qualify for an exemption if you are not required to file a tax return because your income is too low, or you can't afford coverage because the minimum amount you must pay for the premiums is more than a specified percentage of your household income.

It should be called --> AffluentHealthINSURANCECustomersOnly.COM ; people aren't signing up b/c it's not what the 30million new "welfare" dole patients, are to use

[4:57:41 pm]: Matthew
you're giving me the runaround, I'm just going to find a local federal office and try there.

You have 10 days to request the thing you thought the $600 million (taxpayer funded) website was supposed to do, or.... big ass blank space.

[4:58:11 pm]: Matthew
This website looks like a way for gov't to squirm into the Health Insurance market, if I wanted cheap insurance I'd use State Farm, or something, in my humble opinion. I'm sorry, I thought this website was for those who could not afford insurance, apparently for millions of dollars no one can afford to tell me that.

[4:59:10 pm]: Melissa
Thank you for your patience. I am still researching that information.
[5:00:41 pm]: Melissa
Thank you for your patience. I am still researching that information.
[5:04:01 pm]: Melissa
Do you have any other questions that I can help you with?
[5:05:12 pm]: Matthew
for your help - I had to signin to the link you sent, when i did it took me to my "profile" or "account info" or something, and it says the status of my application is "in progress" so I assume some annoying telemarketer will be harassing me soon to buy a 'very special plan' or some commercial BS, you were more help then I leadon, the PDF still had/has blank sections, overlapping text, redundant typo/text, and after "Dear:" it doesn't have my name, thank you for YOUR patience. I have to blog this rigamarole now.

The last text overlay, I'm calling the "Heal Glitch" because as you can see, the word "Heal" just erroneously is stamped on the line, kind of cerebral/meta. it's the last glitch in the PDF, the remaining five (of nine total) pages are errorless and read like a brochure, with disclaimers, then the cost analysis that you can hear anytime being screamed by any liberal screaming from the caves of mainstream-media, including medicaid (dole) information (un)liability disclaimers, how to use the dole in fifteen (15) other languages. "Heal," as if to say, 'try to get better'.

[5:05:54 pm]: Melissa
I apologize for the inconvenience.
[5:06:01 pm]: Melissa
Do you have any other questions that I can help you with?
[5:07:56 pm]: Melissa
Thank you for contacting Health Insurance Marketplace Live Chat. We are here to help you 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
[5:08:03 pm]: 'Melissa' has left the chat session.
[5:08:04 pm]: Your chat session is over. Thanks for contacting us, and we hope we've answered your questions. Have a great day.
[5:08:04 pm]: 10/13/2013


/§/ Do you have to keep ending sentences with 'with'?
Try, "Do you have any other questions that I can help you?"

So it may be nice for the people's republic of socialism to be able to vote on how coverage goes, i remember they/we wanted exemption/protection from preexisting conditions excluding people from coverage, but that was removed by potus, there was an 'employer mandate' that would've included those mega corporations that potus derides so much, but that was removed by potus. So, today I've learned that if I qualify for the exemption to the tax I didn't want, I can't learn them on the one $600M site rumored to do so. Also, this in no way makes healthcare cheaper, I saw the rates, better to go to the private sector, tho neither option adds doctors or guarantees service. Let's not forget, doctors in the healthcare exchange (HEX) will get federal rebates for quicker service in a cave than the doctor who takes time to heal the patient. It's a rewards program, the rewards of hell, but a program.

GDP to population ratio, very low, government solutions to IQ scores, even lower. Yes, some people are recorded as utilizing Unemployment Benefits, quit forgetting to add the people on EBT, who receive said funds because they're not working also. The workers are doing more for less, while the political class and the obedient classless are doing less for more.

Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there, while govt is looking into the problem indefinitely for way too much money, and if you don't like it pay a fine. Cuba does it this way, free healthcare, but there aren't enough doctors and are shortages of medicine. This madness is called serfdom in the dictionary, where the fuck is the media?

Big Quote Time. /§/

"It's amazing to me how many people think that voting to have the government give poor people money is compassion. Helping poor and suffering people yourself is compassion. Voting for our government to use guns to give money to help poor and suffering people is immoral self-righteous bullying laziness. People need to be fed, medicated, educated, clothed, and sheltered. If we're compassionate, we'll help them, but you get no moral credit for forcing other people to do what you think is right. There is great joy in helping people, but no joy in doing it at gunpoint.

"People try to argue that government isn't really force. You believe that? Try not paying your taxes. (This is only a thought experiment -- suggesting on CNN.com that someone not pay his or her taxes is probably a federal offense, and I'm a nut, but I'm not crazy.). When they come to get you for not paying your taxes, try not going to court. Guns will be drawn. Government is force -- literally, not figuratively.

"I don't believe the majority always knows what's best for everyone. The fact that the majority thinks they have a way to get something good does not give them the right to use force on the minority that don't want to pay for it. If you have to use a gun, I don't believe you really know jack. Democracy without respect for individual rights sucks. It's just ganging up against the weird kid, and I'm always the weird kid." ~ Penn Jillette

/§/ Speaking of govt force, this week DC riot police clashed with amputee octogenarian Vietnam War vets. These hippies hate the military so much they became the jackbooted thugs they claim to hate, just to prove the tragically and sadly ironic point, and so the circle continues. /§/

I need to close this with info from today, you can't make this shit up, I've tried, read the caption.

There's a debate in DC, o'notreagan wants to extend, in ultimatum, the debt looming over the future, others and I for one don't, the twitter pic today of Potus D'Totus says "END THIS NOW" - it's a picture of a famous DC building, are we supposed to end government buildings when the leftist typically and deeply despises anti-collectivism?  - for those of you who haven't noticed yet, it is a picture of the fucking Library of Congress. Are we supposed to end the dangers of libraries or is the left pitifully afraid of people who can read? I fear this is another closely-dystopian Fahrenheit 451 moment.

   Legal Disclaimer:
The author of this post is not responsible for the alleged devolution or alleged learning of new words, facts, liberties, or freedoms that gov't has allegedly hidden, omitted, or removed from you the reader, or any other alleged actions alleged to have been alleged, ad infinitum.

Vive la Résistance, Maquis.

13 October 2013

Merlin 3:27 “A Skyline's Severance”

Merlin 3:27 “A Skyline's Severance”
~ @mjbanks

Sino removes his hood from his shining black finger-length hair, over his shoulder a town built for mortal combat, around it two circular walls, within those confines a central square surrounded by two circles streets for its two circles of barracks. The first barrier wall is blood-soaked inflammable magic-bound timber that frames mortar and stones rising three men tall itself surrounded by moat. It has four entrances drawbridge thru the outer wall, and four interspersed opposite in the second wall built of clay and ash mixed with sap. Each room a small home, in concentric placement the outer ring with fifty and the inner ring with thirty-five domiciles, within each a space to celebrate comfortably with a dozen martial experts nearly brushing elbows inebriating. The inner ring of dwellings have their doors to the central square used for ceremony and instruction encircled by a narrow circlet sidewalk for fighters to walk between intervals of spars of magic and militia, never novices, a combat school filled with warriors, monks, and commoners, almost doubled in daily commercial total once counting the shepherds and nearby villages. The roofs protected with curved wooden tiles and the people striven formidable.

Surrounding the city’s walls are arable fields growing cereals and fruits and vegetation, irrigated by a series of canals and ditches. In the hills Arkaim, two monks walk toward Sino and show the palms of each one hand with fingers pointing to the zenith, a gesture of obeisance.

Sino: “Greetings, fellows, has your fine milady come to a decision?”
Regnessem: “We have a message from within, she has spoken to the mages, and they to those of the nearest colony at the bridges of Renoir, and their choice cannot be undone or abandoned.”

The second man lifts his hand from his robe holding a smallish crossbow, raising it toward Sino, only to shoot a passing hare. Sino’s grasp, filled with battle magic at the sight of Regnessem holding a blade dipped in gold and aglow with magic itself, reaching forth of nearest foe calms and subsides whiles learning of the rodent.

Yrassime: “We cannot have pests damaging our growth. You will enter the city at the winter gate.”
Regnessem: “We will meet you there and take you to them. Bring the rabbit to the gatekeeper, that also he may know it to be you.”

Turning to each other, they turn away-from Sino and downhill aside the irrigations and small bridges. Sino’s second hand behind his back emerges holding a blade of his own, and throws it into the animal. Into the evening as Merlin and Ana ride along a dark road toward the militant city, Sino approaches the prescribed gate where a guard whispers to another and escorts him thru the corridors to his meeting in the center of the city, the inner circle guarded by skilled fighters in the next ring outward, the wizards are to themselves.

Simon: “Before you can make a confessionary speech of your plans for power, the councilpersons will ask you questions, giving us specific answers, you may later close this session with infamous statements. Do you understand?”
Sino: “I welcome this ritual experience.”
Atlantes: “These are troubled times, even talks of devils, the war of the underworlds rages against the valkyrie at both ends of time that when our states do not fight the humans seek the blood of us all for the magic of any one. Why have you really called us here today?”
Sino: “To gather our hands and sow minds where men are weak. Petty morays or overlords will not curtail the worthy, where there is power we must take it. We will put every able body to work, and what becomes they can have for merely their utter allegiance, those who will not take their freedom, we will take it from them.”
Gwydion: “I thought you mentioned something besides Midgard at war with magic itself.”
Circe: “With the excess they will magnify counterproductively.”
Väinämöinen: “We will be paying people to be the very corruption, of which you speak.”
Simon: “Your song is counterproductive.”
Morríghan: “It is a tithe, and it will not work.”
Atlantes: “And when it does not work they will starve their own and the gods will laugh at us, more loudly than we can remember.”
Sino: “Your majesty, what is not to work of forcing order?”
Morríghan: “Putting all your eggs in one basket only helps one find broken eggs, and neither hath nor hatches success.”
Sino: “If there is time to waste, then there is work undone.”
Simon: “You forget, Sino, many of us have cleaned your messes from your gambling amblings, over the years you have done your best to rid yourself esteem on this council.”
Sino: “We all know this too well; too certain are you without regret that you see not the weakness, the utmost complacency.”
Circe: “And yet you still avoid our welcoming by doubting our very ages in place above you, spineless dog, to put us under your banner of bones to chew?”

Merlin has sneaked into the city, watching Sino prevaricate from a window, his energy does not alarm any of the witches and a drowsy guard is less apt as he is asleep unconscious from a magic tap on the neck. Sino senses Merlin’s aura in the back of his mind indistinguishable from many, and other questions continue beneath an hour in the moonlight, the laws of war and vendetta discussed in purpose, merely entertaining the council bluffs interest to Sino’s rejoinders, Merlin watching and waiting, listening and listing previous memories of their conflicted past. A wolf howls in the distance.

Sino: “Imagine it for a better place, changed of resentment to our provided respect. You could each clear the way for justice with your determination, and put your name on any kingdom you choose. Putting the witchkrieg at our disposal, we can fight hell above and vacant skies below.”
Gwydion: “Some already have our names on kingdoms. What you’re asking will not work.”
Merlin: “She’s correct, Sino, what you are attempting shall never come to term. You cannot dance with the devil in the pale moonlight.”
Sino: “We shall see.”

Morríghan: “Ah, Merlin, I would’ve invited you, but I despise you.”
Merlin: “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Morríghan: “Who have you come from hiding to kill?”
Merlin: “The only fork tongue traitor who trades on the death of others.”
Morríghan: “To all who object say nay to this duel…it is with their silence that I will be pleased if you both die.”

As they prepare to battle, a werewolf large and loudly howls into the sky from just outside the first circle, the sheer volume and depth of the clarion noise shakes almost into the air thru the inner buildings. With a blast near one of the gates, and over a great distance a small fireball flashes in the field, a large viscous werewolf leaps at a wizard and starts to kill, biting clawing mashing gashing, as Merlin and Sino hesitate.

Sino holds out a hand of brightly white burning sulfur that leaps to Merlin’s eyes and explodes afore his face a blinding efflorescence for his escape. A wolf leaps to him still blinded, like a silhouette in a sun storm; Merlin transfers the blindness to the wolf who howls and burns like a burning grenade that will not explode, falling over him as a sack of bones.

More howls and explosions fill the city, the dozen wizards begin leaving, some by turning into clouds of smoke and others thru walls, others invisible and several by foot, most as if slow and eager to fight the darkness and men made of wolves. Students of misfortune in martial and magical arts forced to become soldiers with explosions in their city and surroundings, wizards and witches becoming warlocks, some vanish only to banish enemy elsewhere. As their alchemy explodes so does the hatreds some of them have for each other, fire, earth, wind, water, and darkness, with more missing and others dead, feudal grudges face resolution.

Guards in the inner circle attack the next blood-thirsting werewolf from cautious distance, and the council turns to chaos, their allegiances chosen now, within moonlight and blood, betters to attack a city of warriors with werewolves, betters to siege a company of magic beneath the full moon. Fenrir as werewolf walks very slowly, somewhat larger than his pack, and calm eyes scouring for something to complete him. Six warriors approach him, holding poles with swords attached, he leaps to the inner wall and scurries from them certain to stalk something with more magical blood, truly sunset and light has abandoned this place to the moon-night. Magic of uncivil war puts a warlock against master alchemist whereby the uncouth and evil magician dueler dies of broken jar blast, thru a door the goodly victor flees from Fenrir. The massive wolf-man descends with vaunted leap to him, sniffing and smelling, thinking and telling as its body questions, of where resides or how could hide his object sought. It is a magic potion it tears from pocket and absconds with it quite quick the hound of hell and phial. Into the woods is where Fenrir swallows the concoction, the lupine grows of little taller, redder eyes from bloodshot stronger suspect brimming by viands and sundry suppliant of strength without remorse, a rare concoction of dragon tongue and rarer carnivorous flower used for distinctly hellish antivenins now consumed fait accompli.

Teams battle wolves, with lariat precludes a losing hound from reaching window, ankles bound and dragged across the floor, the cord tossed over a wall to hoist beast and stab and burn, the flames of a council wizard elder and a mere pledging devoted apprentice from the summer tents of the fields, punishing the beast that is sleepless beneath moon.

Practical or instinctual, humanity, the account of human experience, wantonly, thither a parson of abject neglect vigorous. Holy or evil equipoised ignorant to the weapons of survival, the hellhounds commonly the hunter and oftenest gruelingly redolent and uncommon threat, stage of development, an intimation unquestionably lower than the common orders of creation. Scullion ill affects traced to trouble and filth, poison smoke, sharp winds of shattered eviscerating winds, suggestive whispers of suicide and death, knives that make blood boil, and the always ancient magic that guides spirits to torturing darkness and bodies to inextinguishable fire – the effect of imagination experienced, respected poetic faculties as ancient spoken curses that do not preserve condition. If a duel were in order, it would have to subside to the ravenous threat.

08 October 2013

Merlin 3:26 – “Assent in Err”

Merlin 3:26 – “Assent in Err”
~ @mjbanks

An occasional tree marks the summit of an occasional hill in countryside of many hills. A rasorial phoenix walks with its tail in air scouring the soft earth, down the hillside to lower valley and softer earth in search of mole or vermin of elsewise. Midst slope in wiles the large swan-like egret watching and communicating with gestures arrogant incommunicable to humans and mostly ambivalent between birds, and equally the same speechless communication between Troy and Kylesa, nubile interests and virile conquest to both testing the limits of silent communication in burgeon. It begins to rain and they share their thoughts ensconced, lightning in the distance as they drop their frivolous smiles in hate of rain and with spite of interruption, but the water washes unheard regrets clean, locked in the sound of silence he touches the drops on her face and they begin passion as the sky falls of rain. The egret nestles and sleeps, the phoenix settles with a hood of its wings and wrists above itself.

Close to their steamy sensuality of fire and lightning is a town in the endless Baotou foothills, built with food in mind the patrons all step-farmers of terraces and andenes built into the steepest hillsides, tiled roofs of clay and not wood the homes distinct yet clustered as groups. A nearby bamboo forest looks to be empty of all but the trees, giant herculean branchless poles marked by segments with ferns growing at their tops. Thru the forest run two men, their hair dark and skin fair, in their skulls sunken jaundice eyes of sickness and febrile latent enmity, determination approaching tireless encroaching thru the edge of town and inroad slip assassins shadow.

The rage of two men is quick, as one thru window one thru door silently flank and confront the local alchemist making his final sale to some customers and his tally of totals at the bottom of the store ledger, as the sunset races from the raining heavens to stark horizon. The thieves are humans born without magic looking for ancient relics to empower them in their vices, to mimic witchcraft and steal further more dangerously. One threatens the shopkeeper’s throat with knife as the other one searches jars, when the man urges them to stop his throat is cut and that jar, thereof the other thief, they two ransack. The dying man falls and breaks glass cups by so, and seen and heard ever secretly by a boy in the passing evening.

Loma: “Grab one more thing and we flee.”
Bern: “What I feel is mine?”
Loma: “Anything to tempt, to take, a thing to trade, impresses wizards, or defends from evil warlocks.”

After the telling by a young boy to the sheriff of this going, caught are they within the confines of the store.

The way of peace disappears by the happenstance of hostages to extort a free escape, but by the advent of threats and crossbow negotiations and their captives murdered does the loss of life total one wounded and one dead deputy and Bern deceased in a military siege. In the rain and pain within to without a conflict of mud and blood, the remaining Loma spared his pierced-heart by spear for the sake of a public lynching the next day. A night in the cage watching the sheriff eat, not answering any questions without twisted insult, and soon the strung gallows will sing the eulogy to a death knell in a midday.

In the very next, vilipend morning of inquest on a hillside, Troy and Kylesa wrapping arms around each other face to face on blanket of foreign cotton overlooking the town. With a distant stare as he tries to imagine every sensual touch in consideration, practicing memories for the import of sensationalism, Kylesa leaves in haste, pushing his chest to the brightly morning ground, before he can stretch she sits atop the large egret bird.

Kylesa: “I will return and show you why we came here.”

Troy falls to blanket overjoyed, with a smile on his face of thoughts virile and the warming morning. In the town, Kylesa walks by the gallows and the town jail, hoping to learn and find such as has precisely happened of the prior night’s events, she finds Loma in pillory being pelted by the occasional rotten potato, where she stops walking to watch. When he lifts his head and sees her he immediately shifts his eyes to the sheriff, who notices Loma’s surfeit action and now looks into the crowd unto whom mayhap that is she, but Kylesa is gone without survey and straights she hastily to Troy in order to tell him a conceited speech of deceit.

Flustering wind and quick dismount with egret promptly preening and Alerion still dreaming soon to rest in sunlight embrace, as the sheriff begins a sermon at the pillory before a sentencing trial and renouncing by the public, she rushes to Troy to tell him what to see.

Kylesa: “Look there, by the stockade, a pillory and a gallows, put to an innocent man a brace of his hands and head by a crooked and vile man, to summary a sentence in posture and next the gallows to stretch his neck unwarranted execution, go us soon down to save him.”
Troy: “Are you sure such are proven?”
Kylesa: “Of verily my course, a holy man and shepherd praying with his flock, when the brute viceroy took him up, to be hanged before choosing apostasy, make our haste while he has a chance of freedom.”

In the valley below Troy watches with eyes trained to watch ground in flight, they throw small stones and hard egg-roots at him while the goodly sheriff reads aloud the crimes obscured by distance from truth. Troy steps back and runs toward his phoenix, but before riding takes up his bow and arrows, turning back to the utmost of the hilltop and drawing arrow aside tautly strung cord aiming at the sky for the crown below them.

Kylesa: “Could you hit him, he may drop the floor nether the deacon, we must move quickly!”
Troy: “I can hit a quale from a mile; I’m going to cut the rope.”
Kylesa: “It is your confidence I give certainty, but if you do the viceroy will live and strangle him, or you kill the hangman.”
Troy: “…I can strike a field mouse from a league into the sky, when he sees the preacher fall – he will be still in this moment.”

Troy, aiming over the people, releases an arrow, before the bowstring loses its vibrations he draws another arrow and lets it thru the air, following the first arrowhead splitting the rope of the noose all but for a thread, with the good sheriff watching the hangman flounder from the splintering rope the second arrow punctures his heart.

By the action of fate the two men, introduced to death by transgressions, at opposite ends of a splitting rope, fall to the ground simultaneously. A wicked smile graces Kylesa’s face as she slowly lifts her wrists and wraps herself around him, still standing with the bow in hand in the embrace of forest shadows. A new passion by both begins. His phoenix only just lifting its head to a point of confusion looking Kylesa in the eyes, she closes them and continues kissing him, the white bird silent and cloying to a coy disposition of ignorance and flippancy.

Seeing the guards move toward Loma, Troy abandons her for phoenix and flight, and soon she follows most quite, onto birds of prey they skillfully float into town and block sentry and soldier, clearing the way for Loma to escape, wings of war and arrows drawn to damage in store.

Kylesa: “There will be no killing of innocent men today!”

Alerion opens posture for the angry people with wings of igniting fire as white feathers radiant with the light of the sun opening and lift the egret and Kylesa their leaps into the air, escaping flawlessly in opposite directions. She and Loma fly once over the city to mock the people and their arrows almost high enough to harm.

She lands with Loma for him to depart alone for the egret, though grand, cannot garner two riders enduringly and thus here makes him dismount. She hears Loma’s foot hit the ground, draws quickly her bow, and turning kills him, assuring the silence of their secret conspiracy. He strives to crawl, but the egret backs from him possibly enjoying watching his death as much as her. That night and elsewhere, lovers celebrate as lovers do, him promising her unsanctioned love and heroic defense of her good name and she to him sensation and scintillation, promising that false prophet Loma lives.

As Troy and Kylesa share throes of prose and passion, in the full moon in a distant dark room cast by moonlight thru only one window, Nickolas immortal and imprisoned is being fed-upon by vampires, laughing at him in fiendish addled intoxicated bliss almost without sound, more so of daze and haze and craze. Their eyes with an almost amber syphilitic glow, he screams into the depth of tyrannical darkness a fear beyond hatred trapped in defeat, overprized, overset, and overcome.

Political Maneuvers

Due to the partial US government shutdown: 

Nobody cares.

Cut taxes.

Don't put debt for failed programs on kids that haven't been born yet whom themselves will have to doubly pay for a protected professional-victim caste, as other nations abandon social experimental failures, while coping with the inadequacy of morality beneath entitled political morally-disconnected elitists with bad genes, and bad jeans, for selfish purposes, and shellfish porpoises, drugs were involved.

(this message paid for by the private sector, the church of heavy metal, rocknroll hoochie koo, nudity, bacon, novia del, practicing demonic rites outside of an atheist's house at all hours of the goddam night see how you like that shit, porn in the lobbyists, and viewers like booze.)

I didn't like going to church, but I liked The Church, then I discovered that there are atheists and I became a polytheist and zen master. 

I'm going to post a fic momentarily, i just had so much much fun yesterday writing about President Doesn't Actually Deserve To Be Mentioned and the acolytes of his Team Clueless Cult that I thought I'd try it again, I've been typing and backspacing a little now. 40 percent of people aren't financially affected by the financial effects of leftist pro-recession and pro-limitation politics, that's the same amount of cult-faithful leftists as of better never than late liberalism. You can't have fun breaking the rules of conservatism if there aren't any to break. Thought for food. 

~ Red John



07 October 2013


I don't usually write the oped columns so be prepared for paragraphs that are more than one sentence and some modern language. Who needs Jack the Ripper for Halloween when we have president Jack the Ass? 

It's November 2008, moments ago the president was elected, I heard his speech from that Chicago park and wondered where was the specifics, when were the specifics going to be part of his vernacular, but I dismissed it in favor of the nuance. Soon of later, he invited the defeated presidential candidate to a summit, to answer the age old question, why the fuck can't government budget and how the fuck can we get government to fucking budget. The fuck never asked that question, only indulged in egoism, an unhealthy winner, asking the former candidate questions not letting him answer, shutting him down with 'we tried it your way' to things that had not the chance to be tried, because of the election result, and I thought to myself, oh shit did we just elect a pinko. Six years later we have and the paranoid delusional schizophrenia second only to the tinfoil hat wearers, it has been unrelenting. I've another blog, and some of you know what it is, that records the contempt-of-community communism and slander-of-society socialism president pinko has foisted.

I would put something nice, or for his cult members to note that it may include something that he and they have approved in an orwellian propagandized shit hole of a future, six years later it seems my praise of him may never happen. Some of you will read this, then go to sleep whenever you go to sleep dreaming the while of some sodomorific experience for your liberal worship of our commie cult leader, and wake hoping to give him a blowie, some of you even going on television to pontificate egregious homoerotic fantasies like boarding school girls with a firemen calendar the likes of adoration far worse than found in third-world pinkonazi sex dungeons, but I digress, this paragraph is a digress, I know now the face of evil.

It is fairly common knowledge that when someone is kidnapped that there is a window of time to obtain proof of life and negotiation of release, hunt and capture or kill the perpetrators, or sadly just never see the loved one again. To those of you that this has happened, I'm sorry to revisit this, and as they say, I am sorry for your loss. That window is forty-eight hours, or, two days. Reprehensibly, two days ago president retard "the foolish coward" stompy-foot shut off the US Federal Amber Alert System, which is an evil I could not proscribe of the villains in my stories, thus thought it need be mentioned here. I don't know how possible that a child was kidnapped in the past two days, but technically in 15 of the past 18 years, there has been an increase in the number of missing children, watch the numbers rise with the Amber Alert shut-off by an impetuous and common dictator, a petty bourgeois who knows not the responsibilities of a worker nor the correlating troubles of the workless, it is at utmost plausible that one or more children are actually kidnapped everyday, and the sad and angry commie potus just condemned them to their fate.

Obama's white trash half is showing;
No new information comes from lack of funding;
This vital website unavailable is him behaving dumbly.

A man of the people, my ass, he kept the first lady's jazzercize website working, confirming my belief that he's also president pussywhiped. In sideline news, he's also officiated the closing of access to parts of the OCEAN around Florida, which is a high level of madness that most of y'all aren't prepared to handle, only 1126 unsustainable days to go; it's not flying-butt-monkeys bad, but they've taken all the glue and feathers. 

I'm assuming that he does it because the counterparty won't add more debt (diminishing GDP thus expanding the dole state) and fund an entitlement program that exists without reproach from the socialists or a backup plan from the power-hungry commies. The soviets lost their country and now they want ours, the patients have overrun the mental asylum. These are dire times in the last free country, does his legacy change depends if he wakes the fuck up, fifty years of him making an effort to be a guilty hypocrite, I would bet the farm he never wakes, tho he could just be doing it in wroth.

"Action 13 News" Nevada reported (http://youtu.be/JOj-tBvMOAQ) that people have been removed from their homes within the national park territory of the Hoover Dam, so I'd like to make the most important part of this article clear -- During a govt shutdown, the federal responsibilities revert to public domain, if govt cannot fund itself it ceases to exist, not becomes hitleresque, which makes president pussyfoot a dictator, what a bunch of amateur assholes, and, because of the govt shutdown due to lack of funds, how much money did they spend on signs, roadblocks, relocating people, blocking memorials, shorelines, and gods knowing what the fuck else, (but not the goddam border when they're funded) in order to say they have no money?

This isn't another lefty manifesto before another lefty killing spree, i put those in my stories, put the dialogue quotes sections into little poems and you'll see, the reason why will become clearer if not already, tho I get the concern. In the spirit of facts, the thought dwells in me, but I don't think I could differentiate the way that Dexter does, that and I'm not sure if the producers of The Truman Show are Hollyweird or uncle Sam, sanity has always been a matter of perception, but I would like to think and hereof say, I would not have shut down the Amber Alert system -- that would be illogical.

 This message instigated by:

05 October 2013

Ode Morgana

...and the air above the white ash-covered embers began to fill with waves of lengths of light, drifting spines lifting from the heat and vapors, casting into the air above the mint, its veins and edges cutting edges of the common daylight into the essence of the unknown, the quintessence of light separating for the cold and star-glittered unknown of chasm and void, the radiant reflections further gleaming to the opening expansive universe, irreconcilable to time and plain of simple night, sight beyond witness, missing and unremembered echoes of bifrosts and worlds of chaos and violence, terrible dark nothingnesses that glimmer innumerable, patterns of displacement as ocean waves of air, as light like water where the stoic dimension embraces existence itself, a sound of silence battering consciousness with the ease of seas and mountains reduced to granule, potent ampule of the poisons that would kill harbingers of death mixed with sunlight would not permeate hearts as did the plant, itself a reckoning isolated silence, unto itself devouring all perception to utmost ignore at inanimate mention, severed from roots while spiraling in death, casting rays of red light from its blood-covered leafs, tethered to the storm of ages, strung thither beyond the grasp of foolish sages and unbeknownst like the wrath of nether rages, reaching thru entropic measure becoming both presence and essence in a sky of dark and light both day and night.

Merlin 3:25 “Exiguity”

Merlin 3:25 “Exiguity”
~ @mjbanks

In the earliest morning, Merlin not slept the night heretofore inculcates the day, the eponymous nature forthcoming, covered in stars and the cold breathing blur of the dawn, as dead weeds laying over themselves congest undergrowth and water in the winds of latter summer. Ana sleeps in dale and nurtures care of bearing child the grass nearby her without the dew that coats the plains and glitters in the dawn. Merlin takes his sprigs of mint and lays them at his knees in the matted meadow, with his eyes closed he focuses on fate, tasking to dreams of the highest mountain peak he parlays the oldest quotes of prose in sound of monotone less than the like of words and more like low rumbling quiet bellicose orison. The mint begins to frost despite the campfire and rays of morning. He cuts his hand and spills blood, the drops spreading make spear-shaped leafs petals of red. Tossing these sprigs into the fire they do not burn and only rise-up to float above the flames the height of a mortal man, the bourbon-colored spectacle glittering around it, the unheard sound gives Ana’s child she carries cause to wake and thereof she.

Sefa wakes from sleep to a sound of chimes, a melody unforgotten in the distance, much louder with Merlin and Ana, tho they both cannot hear it, induced by the sound of magic, loud and echoing-the-ether as if close. In the pasture, she rises above it all to see so distantly the glowing red with ribbons of light spiraling and waving toward the sky from the source, clearing the day to the sky of stars of night pushing thru the azure day. Down to the grass-tops and to the forest fast as she can fly soaring upside an oak to nearly the topmost, looking into the distance she still sees the red glowing light and the opening of night clear of day.

Toward she goes to that subtle song from light of rose and smell of mint and song of magic bloodshed. To Merlin and Ana it is simply red and spinning in an otherwise normal day. Where glittering light is the echo of transference and the sound of the wind is the reflection of lights, ever glimmering softly on the grasses is this vast external pasture made eternal time and faded signs of brightness, hidden by eldest magic fawning to tragic shadows of the soul and alluring unrequited.

Ana: “What pray tell us are you doing?”
Merlin: “I am trying to find someone who knows their way.”
Ana: “Aside from a hint of bewilderment, please tell you’re summoning food or that we’re going to a feast next, I could eat a whole duck with a trough of boiled egg-roots, please say you’re not beckoning something to attack us. It smells delicious. Damnedest, what is that are you doing?”
Merlin: “This is a mint from mountain tops, when gods do battle in the higher worlds above and encircling, they perchance spill godly blood and on that plant it coats, fairies love to eat such inhuman things, and in your maternal state I’m sure the abnormal scent appeals, also called ‘Menthe d’Fae,’ and it will help us find Nickolas.”

Ana: “Have you said fairies?”
Merlin: “Yes, for this is a certain thing.”
Ana: “Are coming here?”
Merlin: “Yes, it is a possible thing.”
Ana: “Friendly little norn-bugs, are flittering hither?”
Merlin: “A probably thing – if we are friendly in return, they might share where they secretly grow buttercups.”
Ana: “Dare you not lie about such things…reverse your stare behind you.”
Merlin: “There a glowing light approaches and comes one now.”

Ana stands slowly so to see alpenglow rolling down the far foothill, the balzarine dress in sway and raschel from the ground blanketing her shoulders, into the meadow it parses fast the grasses passing the ground beneath her wings soaring fearsome and swift over flora, concealed by fading light slowing of approaches.

Merlin: “Subdue that fire, dear.”

In such Ana doth and the orange rolling flickering crowns of fire tide on embers stay white with ash and quite renounced by spell so imbued. The half-forearm’s length branch of mint with leaves of blood-painted leaflettes becomes a modest red of roes and glitter of sand of stars, still floating and spinning zenith where the fire now sleeps. Merlin calmly steps between Sefa and the mint, her glowing aura soon present of effervescent skin now dims enough to show her true form. Flying to the mint, she collides with a hex of forbiddance and withdraws to Merlin’s line of sight.

Sefa: “Tricking fairies is quite a disgrace.”
Merlin: “Pleased to meet you, your grace, I am Merlin, and this is Ana.”
Sefa: “Stop shouting!”
Merlin: “…oh, sorry, we were wondering if we could ask you some questions, as you can see, we have remuneration.”

All the while, Sefa dares not be near his feet for fear of trouncing.

Sefa: “A sin confessed is half forgiven.”
Merlin: “Say again…”
Sefa: “I said I don’t see why not! Lie down!”

Merlin looks to Ana and back to Sefa, a fire in their eyes, radiance in the sunlight, and a positing import of mystery defined.

Merlin: “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you clearly; do you know amplification spells of sound?”

Sefa, longing for the mint, flies up-to his head.

Sefa: “Lie down!”

Quickly from his face after speaking to him, therewith Merlin lies on his stomach, elbows supporting shoulders, and hands over forearms, as Ana lies on her back.

Ana: “Ah, this is much better.”
Sefa: “Yes, it is indeed quite.”

Sefa looks at the mint and the aura protecting it.

Sefa: “What would you like to know?”
Merlin: “We’re looking for a child of immortality.”
Sefa: “What’s wrong with that one?”
Ana: “My child is deathless?”
Sefa: “Partially, maybe, almost, it has a strange glow, even for your flamecraft.”
Merlin: “No, the father of that child is an undying, he has been taken by vampires, those and he we are seeking.”
Sefa: “Ugh, terrible things, like chimeras of only predators, living in ugly stone fanes dispossessing rock dwarves, but not killing the stumpy greedy borrowers and lenders. The words in the cracks say that the emperor of fangs, some bloody eponymous lord, in the one yonder is awaiting an unending soul, so…”
Merlin: “How certain do you know this?”
Sefa: “When they say the walls have ears, they speak of fairies. How do you think we protect a newborn baby… by correspondence? The celebration of words you humans speak when you’re alone, even to your greatest of foes, is a tale of foolishness unto itself.”
Ana: “How far away is this mountain and how many towns will we pass?”
Sefa: “You needn’t worry on them at all, matron. Lest they find him first, there is a great deal about the rumors of a coming and goings drought, too faint for big eyes like yours both, that ever on an eight-day the less than storms overpassing are drawn from the air and sky – whereof clouds vanish faded abandon. All so, whiles not but six leagues… from here, as the crow flies.”
Ana: “How on Midgard does that import?”
Merlin: “When Nicky reincarnates he is fueled by the manna in the world itself nearest to him, if zealous they overdrink him, in knowing that he will have life anew by the spirit, life isn’t drawn from the dead inhuman, but from life itself, your fire fears not such droughting.”
Ana: “I see.”
Sefa: “Might could I…?”
Merlin: “Yes of course.”

Merlin breaks the spell just as she nears the mint twirling slowly, allowing it to fall to ground, her catching it before it does and flittering aside Ana and using a paring knife the size of a silver thorn to cut small pieces, of the bloody mint, in small bites minutiae and eat. Merlin rolls onto his side and elbow extended bends his hand to hold his head, the later of day before him.

Ana: “I am ever so twice allotriophagy.”
Merlin: “Then feed you I shall, at the nearest distance.”

Sefa stops, putting her knife to sheath she jumps and wings opening and closing on her back flies in position, from a miniscule deerskin pouch she reaches, grabbing pixie dust, and sprinkles it around her as she upright spins, turning once in a circle she grounds her feet. Growing begins, the slight yellow buttercup flowers of candied lore and aside those Sefa returns to her mint, but not before majestically landing and drinking some of the sweet natural scotch from them.

A reflection in heart a pleasure equal to hunger, a peace of honor and intrigue reserved only for new experiences and childhood, Ana plucks and eats one, enjoying the taste and comfort of food the first hap this chance and the endearment of feeding child. Merlin takes for himself one and switches side to look at the horizon behind him and away from the others.

Ana: “What is next?”
Merlin: “Knowing that (Nick/he) is there, is only the first part of our quest, for from here, we will ascend, or greatly fall.”
Sefa: “A terrible thing to be still, it temps ghouls to nim, I shall be leaving now, go with gods.”
Merlin: “Sefa… where is the drying city?”
Sefa: “It is on the horizon before you, drowning in that sunset.”