Joe Briggs walked out of the polling place. It was clear he wouldn’t be gone long from
the look of him. He was positively
fuming; maybe even a little drunk. The
volunteer had told him in no uncertain terms his identification was out of date
and unusable. When he asked how much a
new ID would be the worker had told him $40-50 easy. Joe mumbled something about poll tax but the
volunteer was adamant. State orders had
come down with strict requirements to prevent fraud. Joe asked what fraud there’d ever been. She wasn’t amused. The volunteer threatened to call the police;
Joe threatened worse.
The rest had happened so fast no one was exactly sure
what went down. The poll worker was out cold with a black eye
on the table and Joe was speeding off in his pick-up truck. In a few minutes the police arrived,
surrounded the building and began questioning people. The volunteer told them Joe’s name but the
other people present gave no clue as to where he might have gone.
Things quickly escalated as the police wanted to examine the voting apparatus. They claimed it may have been tampered with
in the chaos. Everyone knew it was bunk
and an obvious power grab.
People surrounded the voting machines. A cop fired his weapon in the air. Several flinched but all managed to hold
their ground. A tense situation only
became tenser as Joe pulled up outside with reinforcements. His truck bed was full of good ole boys with
automatic weapons. The police had a few
handguns between them at best.
An officer considered calling in the SWAT but in a scene
reminiscent of the old West, Joe Briggs kicked down the door and shot the radio
clean out of his hand. The rest of the
officers didn’t take long to surrender after the fact. They were outnumbered, outgunned and scared
shitless from the looks of ‘em.
All the authorities could do was watch as Joe let
everyone inside to vote. He still made
sure no one cheated but he was fair about it.
At the end of the night he even let the cops cast their vote, provided
they didn’t report anything.
May I present the alphabet poem prompt. I don't know if anyone will follow my lead with this, but I think it would be an interesting reflection on our selves if we created an alphabet poem on what our blogs say about who we are. So, I'll give it the first go.
Nitwitty Impeccable, incredible Craftsman of the Esoteric.
Omnipotent Lover of the Droll.
Supercalifragilisticex Pialiocious Ice cream lover Cracked out on Entertaining self.
Maybe I should stop opening these cookies but being the masochist I am, here's yet another installment. Once again, the others at my table got encouraging words and I got this:
People forget how fast you did a job-but they remember how well you did it.
It would appear the cookie gods have a problem with my work ethic. Not everyone can devote their time to making stale rocks, I guess. Maybe if you spent a little more time crafting your confections they would taste a lot better. But, no, I'm doing my job fast and not cranking out five-hundred boxes a minute.
Does anyone have a Kindle? If so, you have a brand new way to read the Spice! That's right. Nice Old Spice is now available for subscription on your Amazon Kindle. Unfortunately, it's $0.99 a month. They wouldn't let me make it free. But, if you want to try out something new, look no further! Also, there's still my novel if you haven't read it. Wink, wink. It's in paperback too. Double wink wink (that's four whole winks, c'mon).
No one is quite sure how it happened. It may have been the result of a double dip
recession turned depression; it may have been banks continuing to invest
heavily in Europe. Either way, it
appears one-hundred percent of Americans are now unemployed. The super-rich are even out of jobs, as
nearly every company has failed or is in the process of bankruptcy. Farmers have stopped harvesting; government
employees have been suspended indefinitely.
Even this reporter is freelancing this story, hoping desperately for
buyers in a hopeless market. Basic
utilities across the board have become imperiled as well. Power and water facilities have no one to run
them, and no money to operate. Stores
long since looted, city-dwellers are taking to growing their own food from
seeds in the parking lots and abandoned buildings most have holed up in. The President of the United States, long the
last individual receiving a salary, recently resigned as his cabinet had months
before. He is now currently residing in
a dumpster outside the Capitol Building.
His cardboard sign says THE END IS NEAR.
And he may just be right.
Hey, I bet you think I'm losing my touch? No chance! I've killed two-hundred kittens in the last hour. Thank Satan for Red Bull! I don't give up, I don't take no prisoners! Okay, okay, if I have something really important to do I might take a few. You know like when a rerun of Seinfeld happens to be on. I just love that Kramer guy. Hey, he wasn't racist then! He wasn't dammit! Don't tell me what to like! The point is, you made me look like a chump Ben. People are going to start jumping off buildings for fun now, just to mock me. What!? They already do? There's no way that's a sport! I suppose they leap out of airplanes too for the thrill of it? Mother-fuckers! I've obviously got a lot of fear left to strike into the hearts of the human population. Oh, wait. Fox News has me covered. Their viewers fear me ALL the time; from immigrants, leftists and all sorts of dark-skinned people. Honestly they don't even have to be a race apart from whites; they just need to spend an hour at a tanning bed and Hannity will devote a show to taking their rights away. All right, I should wrap this up. I guess I won't kill you, Ben. For now.
"Love? The most beautiful, shiny, warmy thing in the world? You can't accept pure love? You can't accept Debbie? She's chosen to give you her life. She's picked you as her life partner! But you play fantasy baseball because you can't accept her love? I could accept it, man. And Debbie's amazing, man. She's cool and she's funny and she smells good and she's nice and her hair always looks different. She's too good for you, man. You're disgusting. You know, you're an urchin. And she busts your balls 'cause you're a little bitch. You're a filthy bitch! And I'd bust your balls. Debbie wants to give her life to you, and Allison doesn't want to do that with me. And it makes me sad all day."*
*Hopefully this full quote will show up on Google now.
I'm a glutton for punishment so I went out with my dad for Chinese food. We got clever though. This time we switched cookies, hoping to trick fate and give me an encouraging fortune. It was one step ahead of us. My dad got ended up with:
No need to worry, you will always have everything that you need.
I bet you're wondering what I got. Remember that scene in Jumanji when the boy tried cheating and the boardgame made him grow a tail? Yeah, kind of like that.
Self-respect is the root of discipline.
Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking. "I respect Ben, he's so cool." But don't! Buddha will come on you like a golden statue. I don't have self-respect and I will never be Kung-fu Panda. Also, something about discipline.
will now transfer you to the drain cleaner department. Please listen to the music
while your party is reached. I’m hooked on a feeling, I’m high on believing! You used Liquid Plumber, correct? Transferring you to the Liquid Plumber
department. Please listen to the music
while your party is reached. I close my
eyes only for a moment and the moment’s gone! Dust in the wind! Before we give any more advice, we’re
transferring you to claims. Please listen
to the music while your party is reached.
Karma karma karma karma karma
chameleon, you come and go, you come and go!
Your claim number is 109998.
Transferring you back to the Liquid Plumber department. Please listen to the music while your party
is reached. Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley,
sage, rosemary and thyme. Remember me to
one who lives there, she was once a true love of mine. Sorry, it turns out your claim did not go
through. Are you still there? The nerve of these dying people, I swear!”
DirecTV offers info on practically every show for parents. I do mean, just about every show. Not only that but they have family discussion questions for the very worst of them. You know the ones kids should not be near at all, let alone with sane parents? Well, these are a few of the best.
All right, Billy, we're going to watch Beavis and Butt-Head and then we're having an intellectual discussion on its relevance to society. Think really hard on the issues it presents. Did you just laugh when I said hard? God dammit, Billy!
Families can talk about role models. Do you expect to
find positive role models in the shows you watch? Which ones exist? What
aspects of their behavior impress you? Do you think their characteristics are
transferrable to the real world? Teens: Why do you think this show has been
remade? Does it offer any positive content for viewers? Is its comedy style
similar to any other show you watch? Do you find it funny? Are you familiar
with the MTV shows that are highlighted in Beavis and Butt-head? If not, are
you more inclined to watch them after seeing the clips here? How does
intermingling shows like this serve as advertising? Do you think that factored
into the plans for this series?
MANswers Daddy really likes this show. We're going to figure out why.
Families can talk about what it means to treat other
people with respect. Does this show treat its subjects respectfully? Does it
matter whether subjects are willingly participating in the issues and events
the show covers (dwarf tossing, for example)? What messages does the show send
about sex, alcohol, and other hot-button issues? Do you think producers hope
teens will watch? Why or why not?
1,000 Ways to Die
Fictitious representations of death aren't teaching you anything. We laugh at real people's problems in this family. Even if they don't always live through it.
Families can talk about the pros and cons of featuring
accidents and/or deaths on a reality show. Is it ever OK to treat these events
as a source of entertainment? Does it make a difference if the stories are
presented within the context of educating viewers? Families can also talk
discuss how death and dying are treated in mainstream American culture. Did you
know that some cultures incorporate death as a major part of life? How does
this show treat its subjects?
Housewives of Atlanta
Jessica, with any luck this will be your life someday. Jessica? JESSICA!? Put down that book on the LSAT!!
Families can talk about the appeal of watching shows
about wealthy, elite members of society. Why do you think the Real Housewives
franchise is so successful? What kinds of messages do these shows send about
people who have money? Do you think people really want to be like them? What
would be the hardest part about living like these people? The easiest? Families
can also discuss some of the featured on the show. Some of them talk about
their troubled pasts. How do you think that impacts the way they live their
Also, on a final note, they had this to say about Spongebob Squarepants:
"Parents need to know that this cartoon includes violent, dark satirical humor that will confuse kids who can't separate fantasy and reality."
Yes Spongebob is violent and dark and a mockery of sponges everywhere. He will corrupt your mind as he washes your dishes. Beware!
Eve sued God today in federal court for damages cited
under the Americans with Disabilities Act. “I
was a diabetic,” she said in a recent press release. “I couldn’t just turn down an apple with my
blood sugar the way it was.”
The defense counters Eve was not an American citizen at
the time of the incident and therefore not entitled to the act’s
protection. Her lawyers responded she
was the mother of all American
citizens. The defense paused for thought
at having heard this and proceeded to scratch their heads at a loss for words.
“Her and Adam’s eviction,” Eve’s lawyer stated, “was
unwarranted, unethical and illegal.
Would God have kicked a paraplegic out of Eden for taking a crutch?”
In further developments, the serpent is getting in on the
action. He also claims himself as a
victim; of defamation from God. He recently was quoted saying he had only
prescribed Eve necessary medicine for her continued well-being. “God has blighted my good name and
reputation,” he told reporters.
Could this develop into a class-action? Analysts are saying it might. Stayed tuned to Channel 3 news for the
I recently had my poem Fuck-up accepted in the online journal Samizdat. You should go check it out with the other poems, fiction and such in the journal. It's a great site. You can also find the link, along with all my publication information under the tab Babycakes.
Speaking of tabs, pages and what not. I've added links to some of my favorite bloggers under In ewiger Liebe. But, there's more! I wrote a little something about each blog. I think that's more fun than merely giving links out.
I think this might be my first story told with all dialogue. I managed most before, but not quite.
“She only fucks the people she hates.”
“Didn’t she fuck you?
Why would she fuck someone she has no interest in?”
“I didn’t say she wasn’t interested. It’s how she gets back at people. I think that gives her more pleasure than
“Revenge is a dish best served hot and sweaty.”
“Was it like a one-night-stand then?”
“No, we dated for six months.”
“That I can’t understand.
Six months!? That’s pretty elaborate for revenge on her
“You can do a lot more damage when you’re close to
“So, she tortured you for six months and you stayed with
“No, she was peaceful for the first four. It’s how she led me on. I hadn’t seen it coming.”
“What did she do?”
“She started sleeping around. She didn’t keep it a secret either. Well, she did to an extent but she wanted me
to find her out.”
“How’d she manage that?”
“I found clothes that weren’t hers; shirts, pants, even
underwear. It wasn’t just lying on my
bed, but simple enough to see in the hamper or stuffed in a closet.”
“You must have flipped.”
“You know, I didn’t.
I understood relationships weren’t perfect and held out hope we could
still work things out.”
“That was mature of you.”
“To an extent, I guess.
More naïve it turned out. It
wasn’t long before I caught her at it. I
came home after work and she was cock-deep, moaning with some other guy.”
“Fuck. And this
was after four months? Can’t believe you
stayed another two.”
“I can’t either.
But I did. I really tried to win
her over; took her to concerts, restaurants, everything I could think of.”
“Nothing got better?”
“Only worse. I
caught her with more men. She didn’t
even make excuses.”
“Were you two still sleeping together?”
I knew it was dangerous with all the other guys she was with, but just
like with the concerts I thought I could satisfy her working harder.”
I really feel for you. What
finally made you break it off?”
“The day I finally realized how absurd it was. I was online researching vacation packages,
thinking we could use a nice getaway to smooth things over when it hit me. Nothing in the relationship was worth saving
and I deserved better.”
“How’d she take that?”
“I never figured out.
I just packed up and left.”
“I bet that hurt her.”
“I bet it didn’t.
She never loved me. I doubt she
can love anyone.”
“So you aren’t coming to the wedding?”
Don’t tell me someone’s falling for her game again.”
“As a matter-of-fact I am. And you’re right about everything. She was in a bad place but she’s better now.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I don’t think you know the realization she had when you
left. It might not seem like it but
subconsciously she was reaching out.”
“She didn’t come from the best background. She wanted you to be jealous. It was how her mom had always done things
“And she opened up to you about all this?”
“No, I confronted her.
I kicked the guy’s ass and almost hit her too. Luckily, I stopped myself before things got
out of hand.”
“It sure doesn’t sound like she had a realization when I
“I think she did.
Otherwise, she would have never told me the things she did. I’d never seen a girl cry so much, look so
“I wish I could pity her; I really do.”
“She didn’t expect you to and neither do I. I just want you to see how far she’s come and
try taking the first step toward forgiveness.
It would mean a lot to her if you two could end up friends someday. You walking out, ultimately, did a great deal
“So, I guess I’d be an usher or something at this
wedding… if I went?”
“Best man if you want it.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Well, it looks like we won’t have one then. She’s determined it’s you or nothing.”
“I guess I’ll have to then.”
“Great. Thanks for
“I’m still hurt and a little angry but I’m glad she moved
on and found a way to be happy; maybe there’s hope for me too.”
Fortune cookies come in all shapes and sizes. Okay, so almost always the same size and shape. But the fortunes can be drastically different. Most people I know will crack one open and leave with an optimistic feeling. Others, like me are not so lucky. For reasons I cannot quite explain my fortunes are most always terribly condescending or just plain insulting. This leads me to a new segment titled My Bad Luck with Fortune Cookies.
Not all closed eye is sleeping, nor open eye is seeing.
On the surface, perhaps not bad. But think what it's saying about me, the paying customer. I'm apparently not very perceptive to Mr. I-write-cookies-for-a-living.
Cultivation to the mind is as necessary as food to the body.
Well, they could have said bluntly I'm a fat idiot but instead chose the next best thing. I'm eating too much, and in doing so contributing to Mr. Cookie's business. But that isn't good enough. I need to cultivate my mind. I suppose that means cooking my own meals and writing my own fortunes. Tough break, Mr. Cookie.
I tried to remember the crime I committed. I tried to recall why the cops were dragging
me out of their cruiser and into a police station. Nothing came to me. I felt their fists hit my stomach; I smelled
my own fear.
“Teach you to camp, hippie!” One’s voice said.
“Let’s book him.”
“It doesn’t matter.
Say he hit one of us.”
I wondered if I had.
Anything seemed possible in the current situation.
“Time to strip this Nancy down. We can see if he’s really got some balls
under that Vagina.”
I didn’t resist when they tore off my shirt and
pants. It seemed all the more humorous
“He’s got bigger grapes than I thought. Still small though.”
“Hey, Hank, get me the pepper spray. I have an idea.”
Hank said egging him on.
“Oh, I would, Ted.
Hand it over.”
The immense pain I felt before was somehow
amplified. Hank emptied the whole can of
pepper spray on my bare genitals. There
was nothing I could do to stop him as it burned. I bit my tongue until it bled.
“That’s enough for now.
He can cool his heels ‘til we think of something better.”
“Sounds good. Come
I was dragged again; this time unable to walk. The cop showed no sympathy; kicking, hitting,
kneeing my enflamed genitals.
We entered a bizarre looking jail. There were no cells. Inmates were free to move yet chose not to. They cowered, shaking violently around a
central pit. It wasn’t clear what was
inside; just that something was.
“What are they afraid of?”
“You’ll see soon enough.
Or maybe, I can let you in right now.”
He lifted me up toward the pit. I thrust my feet against the air trying to get
him. I never got the chance. Before I realized what was happening I fell. My legs broke on impact and I couldn’t move.
I saw the faintest glow light up a body. It was a young woman; a beautiful one at
that. Perhaps she was a prisoner as
“Excuse me,” I asked.
It was a mistake. Her teeth
snapped, sharper and longer than I could have previously believed. “Are you a werewolf?”
“Don’t make me laugh.”
“Are you going to kill me?”
“I wish that were all.”
Her teeth were not what moved. Her entire face expanded, split in half. Screaming hands reached out. I felt my essence
pulled away. Skin peeled off with
memories, emotions toward the young girl’s void.
I saw a story flash as I absorbed inside of Jamie.
An even younger version of the young girl had gold necklaces and
bracelets with a shovel. She was digging
furiously; possessed with desire. She
wanted something more beneath the ground, the grave. It called to her. One more necklace, one more ring would help
her forget. And she could stop. But she could never stop. Jamie was beyond intervention.
Metal hit wood.
Her hands pried open the coffin lid.
But nothing was inside; merely satin and a headless pillow.
“I see you’ve found my coffin,” a cold voice said.
“Oh, yes. I’m
dead, undead to be exact.”
“It can’t be.”
“But it is.
Joshua, Maurice, grab her. We
have work to do.”
They lifted her from the grave. She seemed almost willing as she walked into a
clearing with no headstones. A pentagram
had been drawn on the ground. The
vampires licked their lips hungrily.
Jamie considered escape but barely turned before they pinned her down.
Remorseless penetration consumed her body. She bled from her mouth and anus. The cold, undead members were as hard as
ice. The only part of her they left
alone she feared for.
A hideously scarred creature approached and the rape
stopped. It seemed like Jamie’s savior
perhaps. But she had hoped too
soon. Both hands held a massive, reddish
horn up to the moonlight. Chanting
began. Pitch rose higher and higher
until… the horn was slammed into Jamie’s previously untouched vagina. The creature lifted it again; the chanting
renewed and she felt the unbearable pain once more as it went further. It never stopped. The night was an eternity in hell; a hell
that rose inside of her.
I felt her pain, her anger and her rage. My hands reached out the void with countless
others ready to consume. Our enemies
would join us. Our friends would join
us. Our families would join us with all
others in the way.
As you can hear (if you haven't muted the volume) I've changed up the playlist again. I got bored with the old and brought in some new. Thought I'd explore techno music. I'm not quite familiar with it so I looked up some songs others people seemed fond of. I had a few bands in mind though i.e. DJ Sammy who performed one of my favorite songs, Heaven. Also, for no reason I threw in Smash Mouth and some Italo disco. So, I hope you take the time to enjoy and dare I say, dance it up?
I've started a new political blog. It's called the Raving Moonbat and it's pretty... liberal. So, if you like that sort of thing and want more you should totally stop over man. We can talk about world peace and eat these brownies I made. I won't tell you what's in them though.
The bear ate honey in the forest. Or what it thought was a forest. The limbs flickered and a blowing sound
emitted from the floor.
“Don’t mind the noise,” a soothing voice said. “Get back to doing bear stuff.”
“What sort of bear stuff?” The bear replied.
“You know… fishing, hunting, playing with your friend
“I’m sorry. That’s
not me. I need to feel motivated. What’s my motivation?”
“You don’t need motivation; you’re already a bear!”
“You’re a human but I’m not expecting you to act like Roy
Rogers and Clint Eastwood. How
“Jeff,” the voice whispered. “Turn on the gas. It looks like another won’t cooperate.”
“Whatever you say, Bill.”
A green cloud began to fill the room. The bear merely continued staring at horizon
it had figured out was two-way glass.
Impending death had not changed its demeanor, but rather gave a curious
expression in the place of fear.
“I surmise,” choked out the bear as its lungs began to
give, “you’d like to know what you’ve done wrong in this experiment.”
“We don’t need advice from lesser mammals. If you were intelligent at all you’d be the
one gassing us.”
“I’m going to tell you, regardless. The obvious explanation is you can’t play God
expecting results in your favor; the less obvious being, bears will
generally eat fish over honey in their environment.”
The room became completely obscured with gas. The bear did not use the situation to its
advantage for escape, however. It merely
lied down as if going to sleep, happy to have the hard part of its journey over
“That one sure didn’t put up a fight.”
“You expected it to?”
“Well, yeah, wouldn’t you?”
“I’m human; my life means more.”
“But will your death in the end?”
getting pretty philosophical.”
“Let’s just bring in the next bear.”
Another bear walked out identical to the first in
appearance. It was not clear where the
corpse of the other had gone.
“What do you say we let this one live for a while, maybe
get it some fresh fish?”
“I’d say you’re losing your nerve.”
“Didn’t you hear what that other bear said?”
“No. You heard a
“Yeah,” Bill said nervously. “Didn’t you?”
“I think you need a break…”
“No… please… I’m really all right!”
These were the last words Bill remembered speaking to
Jeff. He slowly opened his eyes inside
the bear pen that was no longer a bear pen.
Bill was back in his college dorm room. The familiar swimsuit calendar hung on the wall with posters of his favorite bands. He ran up to his roommate, Zach, he
hadn’t seen in nearly twenty-years. "Hey, man, want to go play some Frisbee in the quad?" Zach didn't respond. Bill noticed him flicker. A familiar blowing
sound emitted from the floor.
Bill felt his lungs begin to seize. The room was filled with greenish haze. He ran with all his strength toward where he
thought the two-way glass must have been.
When he fell over, he crawled.
Jeff was not ready to die. He
refused to accept it. The lights were
dimming; he knew it had nothing to do with the electricity.
As he lay, finally immobilized, he saw the other bear, the dead bear, sitting where his friend had been mere moments before.
Please! I can save you too!” Bill thought more than talked. He was barely capable of whispering.
“So naïve,” the bear said before vanishing and leaving Bill
to his fate.
So, I'm considering this new project. It might have and probably has been done in some way before but I think I can put my own unique spin on things. My goal is to write a book of poems written at night in different places, instances, etc. I'm of the opinion that everything is that much more interesting after the sun goes down and everyone's asleep. Let me know what you all think. If anyone wants me to send them some of what I'm working on, I'd love to do that too and get your opinions that way.
Ohio's government passed legislation this past year to strip public employees of collective bargaining rights, the ability to strike and negotiate for safe staffing levels among other things. Signatures were gathered and a repeal, Issue 2, was placed on the ballot to be voted on this next Tuesday. Naturally, an influential demographic has stood strong against these efforts. I speak of course of super villains. They were kind enough recently to do a photo shoot.
The Dark Lord Sauron has long opposed collective bargaining and all forms of union labor. Imagine being in his situation, managing thousands of orcs, and have them start complaining about sulfur gas. HELLO, they're right next to a freaking volcano! Of course, there's sulfur gas. What can he do about it? Not much.
Voldemort has similar concerns. Sure, he looks happy in this photograph, but inside, he's crying. Voldemort, you see is among the much persecuted one-percent. He worked hard to get where he is, ruling over a psuedo-dictatorship, and persecuting filthy mudbloods. Under this new law however, half-breeds would have a say in their salaries. Imagine, what this would do to yet another fragile Dark Lord. His pockets would be emptied. He would no longer be able to purchase elaborate fountains displaying the muggle and house-elf's feebleness in relation to wizards.
Lastly, we have Ganon. Ganon is a Gerudo-born villain, seeking the Triforce and absolute power over Hyrule. But he has a problem. Public employees stand in his way. Firemen, police and others arrest his monsters in a constant assault. Without the ability to maintain safe staffing levels, however, they will quickly be overrun. And Ganon will recreate the world in his image, making Lon Lon Ranch into an efficient distopia.