When the tsunami hit Fukushima all my atheist friends were asking the hack question, "Well if God is so great why does he let earthquakes happen?" But I love to watch their heads explode when I ask a question like, "If science is so great why do I have to worry about radiation?" That’s right I said it. And now go look up the half-life of plutonium-239. Trust me, that will be around way longer than any annoying religion or God you might disagree with or not believe in.

Here's my take on it. I veer a bit more towards religion than I do science. But to be honest it's only because I feel we live in a scientific age where we suck the science cock without asking where it was the night before and if it's sleeping around with capitalism behind our back. To be succinct I have no problem with science if it is somehow balanced with wisdom. And when I say wisdom, I'm not talking about reason and logic because that will only get you so far. Just read Godel (that's one of your guys) on the actual, real, mathematical problems with logic not being able to prove logic itself. To be even more precise A) If the system is consistent, it cannot be complete and B) The consistency of the axioms cannot be proven within the system.

There's also the little problem with plutonium-239 and its half-life of 24,000 years. That means it's going to be fucking up living cells for 24,000 years. Oh that sucks right? Fuck yeah, but after that it will still be half as dangerous for another 24,000 years and then half of that half after another 24,000 years! That, my friend, is a long fucking time to fuck up life. And that’s just one of the dangerous isotopes. There are thousands of them and we have produced millions of tons of this life-sucking headless zombie scientific shit. Not grams, not pounds, but tons! And when I say “Life” that’s not just the life of people who love God, or people who love science, or people who love Facebook, or people who love import beer. It's everyone and their dogs and the food they eat and the tree outside and the grass in their front yard and the water they drink and my cat Isabel! Who’s never hurt anyone! Goddamn you have no problem force-feeding plutonium to my cat, you evil fuck!

It’s amazing how easily you gulp down bukkake loads of science semen from any guy in a lab coat. You go on and on about how fucked up religion is (without really studying Buddhism, Taoism, Zen, Hinduism, mysticism, Kabala, Crowley or Christ) and believe anything with the magic word science in it. Or logic or reason or research or proof. These are your holy little key words you use to talk to your friends and prop up your optimistic blissful future or “when all the research comes in” or “they’re still testing on something”. How is that any different than the religious nuts and their happy heaven in the sky? It’s all the same to me because it’s not right here and now. If you could only get off your ass and finally build your time machine and go into the future and get the fuck out of this life.

If you don’t like religion, fine! How about for one fucking time you look back in the past and listen to the wisdom of some of your own people? One of the greatest scientists of all time, Robert Oppenheimer? With his super human intuitive reasoning, atomic powered insight, alien brain and his third fucking eye he tried to tell everyone years ago to put the goddamn nuclear genie back in the fucking bottle. But what did all the reasonable capitalists, military logic fucks and their lab coat wannbe lackeys do? Oh they take all his shit that he almost single-handedly built with one arm tied behind his back and right when he opens his mouth to mention, with a little common sense and wisdom, “Hey maybe you need to take the cigarette out of your hand when you’re pumping gas.” They called him a crazy pinko commie possible homosexual reading his Bhagavad Gita and writing his silly poetry probably jacking off to kiddie porn. They take his security clearance away and marginalize him.

Fuck You! No seriously FUCK YOU! Read your own history. Quit trying to convince people there's no God when the shit you help spew is going to be around thousands of years long after God is dead and gone. There won't be one religious book on the face of the earth and even the fucking Egyptian hieroglyphs chiseled in granite will be eroded while your shit soup is still burning away.

Down in the third sub-basement below Mortimer’s castle here at Media Underground, I had just finished a three week investigation on Halo 2 Live. I had some suspicion that the gamer PinkUnicorn12 had hacked into my X-Box game controller and installed a remote program to make me lose every game I played against her and all of her online friends. I also found I lost to random players and even a five year old boy with a broken arm who said he was eating a sandwich at the time. I remember hearing his exact words, “I just pawned your bitch-ass down like a newb again”. I knew there must have been some security breach with either the game controller or my X-Box console. Statistically I had been able to win one or two games out of 1000 games played. I switched controllers and nothing seemed to add up. Then the phone rang...

“Inman, this is Mortimer.”

“Ah... (long pause)... Yeah?”

“Get off the X-Box for Christ sake while I’m talking to you on the phone.”

“Ok, what?”

“I’m sending you to West Africa for an initiation into the Bwiti ceremony. You are to meet up with the head of the tribe. The Shaman's name is N’ganga. You'll take massive amounts of a drug called ibogaine. During the ritual the visions will come on pretty strong for about eight to ten hours during which time I want you to look for machine elves, the Terrence McKenna kind. Grab one as your spirit guide and find out everything you can on Simulated Reality.”

“Yeah ok... Oh no, you bitch!”

“Inman this is important. Put down the controller.”

“Ok I got it. Machine elves and SimCity, I used to play that game. I’ll get on it.”

“Not SimCity you retard. Simulated Reality. It’s the proposition that...”

“NO! NO! NO! You whore! Goddamit!”

“Put it away for the last fucking time Inman or I’m coming down there. It’s not the video game SimCity. Look, just get a pen and write this down... Simulated Reality.”

“S-I-M-S...?”

“Simulated. S-I-M-U-L-A-T-E-D. Simulated as in fake reality. Jesus I can’t believe I have to deal with this. Did you go to a public school? Ok anyway. You have your mission. The plane leaves for Gabon tomorrow. I know it’s a weird way to go about this and it may be a shot in the dark. N’ganga has been a buddy of mine for years and he’ll talk you down if you go nutters. I had Klein on this one at first but he says he’s allergic to Tabernanthe bark or some crap. Anyway keep a diary because I might be able to find clues from your notes. Write everything down. Don’t freak out and remember, look for anything out of place or ask a machine elf spirit guide. I need to know if the universe itself could be a computer simulation indistinguishable from “true” reality. And if it’s possible that someone could actually hack reality.”

I put the phone down. I stare at the wall for a few brief seconds. Did I just hear what I think I heard? This is the ultimate paranoid conspiracy and he’s lost his goddam mind. He’s gone Syd Barrett bat-crazy and he’s trying to take me with him. I’ll have a psychotic breakdown from some bad reaction to ibogaine, wake up barefoot and penniless wandering around West Africa, collapse from malnutrition and dysentery and finally end up being torn to pieces by wild hyenas in a dried up river bed. There’s no way I can go on this trip. I’ll have to fake the simulated reality study.

At first I thought it would be easy. I’d just type simulated reality into Wikipedia and make a few notes. Scribble weird crap in a diary with mathematical symbols and rub dust all over the cover so it looks like I’ve been in the desert for three days. No problem. That’s when I remembered N’ganga. He would be waiting for me in Gabon. If I never show up he’ll ask Mortimer what happened. I’ll have to hire a guy to fly down to Gabon, have him meet up with N’ganga posing as me, he’ll take the ibogaine and write a few things down about elves, send me his notes and I’ll mix that with the Wiki simulated reality material in a dusted up diary in my own hand writing.

Sounds like the perfect plan right? Turns out the guy I send down there used to hang out and trip with N’ganga in Glastonbury in the late 80s. And N’ganga isn’t N’ganga. His real name is Niles Octavious Hall the twin brother of the Governor General of Jamaica Kenneth O. Hall. Niles O. Hall was the Black Rebel Jamaican Freedom Fighter who later migrated to Gabon and became a Bwiti initiate. Kenneth O. Hall was the Dean of the State University of New York who later became the Governor General of Jamaica.

Just a side note, the Bwiti ceremonies are led by a (male or female) spiritual leader who has extensive knowledge of traditional healing practices, hexes and spells. Their spiritual leader is called a N’ganga. So N’ganga is not only not Niles O. Hall’s real name, it’s not even his fake name because it’s a title. Niles or the “N’ganga” meets my fake Bwiti initiate dupe posing as me and recognizes him as a fellow mate he knows from Glastonbury. So I’m fucked.

Luckily the guy who was supposed to be me, Ian, didn’t blow my cover and I called Mortimer to tell him I missed the plane. Thinking quickly I also told him I was supposed to meet my “assistant” Ian in Gabon who has a satellite phone and laptop so I can be initiated into the Bwiti ceremony over Skype in the comfort of my office in the third sub-basement. All I really had to do was dose myself with a placebo here, look for the machine elves in my own imagination and tell Mortimer it was all being done according to the Bwiti ritual over remote live video. Sound simple?

Ian doesn’t have a laptop or satellite phone or even a video camera. So I had to write and direct a ten hour fake Bwiti ibogaine ritual on film. First off I couldn’t find a guy who looked like Ian or N’ganga. We tried some kind of computer graphics thing with a friend who said he worked for Pixar. That looked completely retarded. Then we figured the shaman and Ian would probably have tribal paint all over their faces and beards with crap in their hair. No one would notice if they were dancing around with dirt all over everything. We hired two actors who looked the part, painted their faces and taped the whole thing with an iPhone. I thought the acting was weak at first. I tried to motivate them about machine elves while looking for weird shots with the iPhone. One guy started waving his arms in the air like a Shaman and the other wrote stupid shit in a diary.

So summing up, I don’t know if the machine elves are real. I don’t know if reality is fake or not. I don’t know if I’m sitting in a comfortable chair right now in another part of the universe with a brain-computer interface. I don’t know if I interact with a simulated world and if it receives feedback from me. I don’t know if virtual people exist or if they’re just other poor blokes strapped in a chair in another part of the universe interacting with their brain-computer. I don’t know much of anything. And even if this world is simulated and let’s just say for the sake of argument it is. I found a few clues...

TIBETAN BOOK OF THE DEAD - “Male, female, father, mother, the thunderstorm, the hurricane, the thunder, all phenomena are naturally like magical illusions. However they arise they are truthless. All things are untrue and false.”

LAO TZU - “The world is formed from the void, like utensils from a block of wood. The Master knows the utensils but keeps to the block. Thus he can use all things.”

FREDRICK NIETZSCHE - “Why couldn’t the world that concerns us be a fiction? And if somebody asked, “but to be a fiction there surely needs to be an author?” couldn’t one ask simply why? Doesn’t this belonging perhaps belong to the fiction too?

ALEISTER CROWLEY - “It sometimes strikes me that the whole of science is a piece of impudence; that nature can afford to ignore our impertinent interference. If our monkey mischief should ever reach the point of blowing up the earth by decomposing an atom, and even annihilated the sun himself, I cannot really suppose that the universe would turn a hair.”

For his final January 14th show with the Sex Pistols, Johnny Rotten famously exclaimed: "Ever get the feeling you've being cheated?" That's how I feel after watching the movie Nothing But The Truth. I know I shouldn't complain because I get all my movies free off BitTorrent. But for the love of God this movie sucked in so many ways I am unable to come up with any metaphors for extreme suckness. I may just type the most heinous descriptors I can come up with right now. "Steaming turd" is the first thing to come to mind. "Incontinent Hollwood CIA handjob" sounds good too. I'm not really sure but I do know this. I have never felt the need to write a movie review until I watched this total shit stain Nothing But The Truth.

Now that I think of it, I should have set my television upside down and watched the movie backwards to get a closer version of the "Truth". First off, it's supposed to be loosely based on the Valerie Plame affair. The projected goat vomit starts with, "Though inspired by actual events, the following is a fictional film that does not depict any actual people or events." Ok fine. That could mean midget porn or an hour and a half long simulated fireplace video. After finishing the film, I feel like it should have started with, "Though you'll be watching inanimate and animate objects moving around on your TV screen, the following is a perfect example of how the CIA and Hollywood have a finger up each other's ass." And does anyone see the irony of a movie called Nothing But The Truth opening with a disclaimer that says it does not depict actual events?

The CIA has got to be writing scripts for Hollywood. I wish I had the skills of the adopted son of a gay union between Bob Woodward and Roger Ebert to explain it all but I don't. Something must be going on here. Maybe I was born with some kind of creepiness meter in my brain. I do remember watching Top Gun as a teenager and we had to walk past a Navy recruiting table right by the exit. I've seen old Nazi propaganda clips on the History Channel and anyone with the intelligent quotient of a dirt clod knows the United States during WWII had some propaganda crap going on too. But how do you convince someone that it's going on to this day? Any adult human with a working spinal column can tell just by the bad writing and tedious dialogue of almost every Hollywood film coming out today. Ever read a police report or an old document released by the Freedom of Information Act? The writing sucks and the jokes aren't funny and it feels like you took a handful of Xanax and washed it down with three shots of Nyquil.

I'm not an expert on foreign policy or the history of the Bush administration, I'm not the best political historian and/or glued to a live feed off the Associated Press at all hours of the day. But I do seem to remember Joe Wilson, the Ambassador to Africa Somewhere, who's an Official Looking Smart Guy For Something, and he wrote an article in the New York Times about yellow cake uranium not being where George Bush said it was for sure and we were all fucked because Iraq was buying it wholesale for building atomic bombs to blow up our freedom. Valerie Plame was Joe Wilson's hot MILF wife and some leak came out that she was CIA. A creepy dude with a hair piece from CNN's Crossfire had opened his small slit for a mouth just to get payback. People were saying he obviously did it on purpose but some smart New York Times person was really the one who said it first and the creepy hair piece guy just regurgitated it.

People start freaking balls out, saying the smart reporter was Judith Miller and she had some connection to a high placed U.S. government official who told her "not to tell anyone" and "really, really not to tell anyone" because "that's just the beer talking" and "I'll be in deep shit if you wanted to write it down and I think I have a pen somewhere." Anyway that's the story I got from just reading headlines on the front page of news papers as I walked past the magazine rack. I also remember a bipolar homeless junky on the street saying he thought it was Cheney and then he needed spare change to get a forty-ounce. So I'm not the only person who knows this.

Now let's get back to Nothing But The Truth. Take everything I just wrote above and read it all backwards. Wait, not really backwards but think the complete opposite but not in any order. Here's the plot: Valerie Plame is an angry bitter foul mouthed bitch. You see Joe Wilson for two seconds and he's a dick with sun glasses who dumps her and drives away after saying something stupid to his cranky wife Valerie. Judith Miller, the main character, is a sweet caring mother who is kind, rational and a journalistic Joan of Arc. She writes a story for the New York Times that's the next big scoop since Watergate. She narcs out Valerie who now has the press following her everywhere and call's our poor Judith the "c" word for opening her big mouth.

They take Judy to court and she stands by her principles and will never reveal her source. Matt Dillon, the guy who's trying to find the source, is a complete dick and wants to throw the poor martyr in jail. The judge is trying to be fair but he's worried about National Security. She goes to the pokey and all the black people are mean to her. The jail scenes go on for the rest of the film which is over an hour. This is where you want to shoot yourself in the head. Her son Timmy (I'm not making this up), poor TIMMY is missing his mommy. The Valerie Plame character gets assassinated by a lone right wing gunman who loves the President. Judith is sorry and bawling like a stuffed pig but still not talking shit. She gets beat up in jail but keeps her mouth shut. Alan Alda is the lawyer trying his best but he's a dick too because he has an expensive suit. Blah blah blah the jail scene goes on and on again. She even chooses to go back to jail for another two years to protect Cheney... Wait, I mean her "source" – who unbelievably turns out to be an 8 year-old kid on a school bus. Whoops! Warning: Spoiler Alert. Oh, too bad. I just told you and I don't give a fuck.

Who's the real Judith Miller, our main character? With just a few clicks of the mouse you get all kinds of non-Hollywood info. She wrote how Iraq had WMDs to whip up American support for Operation Iraqi Oil Change. She found out about those metal tubes intended to be used to enrich nuclear material but they were just metal tubes made for beer cans or some crap. She claimed the double-wide trailer homes in Iraq were bio-weapons mobile labs for rat poison. She even gets an empty fake letter of Anthrax while everyone else gets the real shit. Condoleezza Rice, Colin Powell and Donald Rumsfeld appeared on television and pointed to poor Timmy's mom as the only reporter with the prophetic insight for going to war with Iraq. None of this was in the movie.

Oh but Goddam, if you watch Nothing But The Truth, she's such a sweetheart beauty queen standing up for Truth and Justice. She's missing her son and her asshole husband fucks around on her while she's in jail. She's tossed around like the tiny swordfish boat in the Perfect Storm . She's so unbelievably brave and suffers like a Christ figure with nice tits. It's such a heart wrenching story and when the credits pop up I feel like I've been beaten in the head with a shovel for two hours. It has nothing to do with anything remotely based on an inspired hallucination of any actual non-events. Watch it yourself and tell me I'm not crazy.

It's a Hollywood version of a CIA All Anal Cum Fiesta I downloaded right off BitTorrent. On top of all that, the Motion Picture Association of America actually has the balls to ask me, "Would you steal a car? Would you steal a CD? Then why would you steal a movie online?" So now I'm stealing your propaganda? I don't know. I should ask myself, "Would I jam a red hot copper wire in my eyeball? Would I attach vice grip pliers to my nutsack? Would I duct tape myself to a chair, glue my eyelids open with thin set mortar and watch a nine hour infomercial on steaming turds and handjobs brought to you by the CIA?"

It’s been a while since I posted anything because I’ve been on a clandestine mission. Mortimer sent me to the US as an embedded reporter. The plan was to infiltrate Blackwater and establish a beach head for information on corporate mercenaries. For six months I trained in a secluded wetland preserve outside North Carolina sleeping inside a cave. I immersed myself in weapons training, survival, first aid, crowd control, Brazilian Jiu-jitsu and commercial country radio. I also practiced the fine art of firing my weapon randomly at any object within a three hundred yard perimeter. Unsystematic weapons discharge and Total Eradication Arbitrary of Moving or Fixed Angle Geography, also known as TEAMFAG, is compulsory at Blackwater. The black bandana is key. Normally worn around the forehead, a skilled security contractor in any situation will pull the bandana over his eyes and uncontrollably utilize any weapon in his arsenal. This is called Blind Firing. After six months of self training, I was ready to apply.

As I approached the Headquarters at Blackwater USA, I found the parking lot filled with Sport Utility Vehicles modified with what is called the True Quad PowerTrain. Not available to the general public as of 2007, these transport units come with a separate engine for each wheel making it a true Quad 4WD. The gas mileage is still classified but experts agree the 400 gallon tank can last a quarter of a mile before refueling. Not surprisingly for the past 50 miles outside Blackwater I drove past thousands of gas stations. Each refueling station was connected directly to a petrochemical plant owned and operated by Blackwater. Half of the refueling stations were on fire or exploding. I navigated a series of security checkpoints where Blackwater contractors were basically running around killing each other, so I had no problem slipping past undetected.

Most people think of mercenaries as dirty, camo-clad ex-Navy Seals with painted faces creeping out of some pond filled with slimy moss and poisonous snakes. Not the security contractor of today. Blackwater is a private contracting firm. They protect private enterprise and global corporations. The new look resembles a black NASCAR uniform. The Medal of Honor is the corporate logo. Gulf Oil, British Petroleum, Texaco, Sprint, Snickers, Tide, Vaseline and Kentucky Fried Chicken are displayed proudly for brave dedication of service. Dishonor at Burger King can open up a can of whoop ass. These men give their lives for the freedom to have the burger cooked anyway they like it. And if you don’t like it? Then it’s lock and load commie faggot. Taste the Rainbow. That's just Ford Tough. I’ll Shout it Out that I protect the smooth creamy rich filling inside a Milky Way Bar. Can you hear me now?

Inside the waiting room at personnel I saw a sea of psychotic men screaming out their favorite commercial jingles. It was like a food court gone mad. To the right was a Pizza Hut and on the left was a shooting range. I’m not sure if anyone was in charge. I asked around for some kind of secretary or employment application. After I ordered a Supreme Personal Pan Pizza I dodged more bullets from the Blind Firing and made my way back to the table. I finally found that on the back of the Pizza Hut paper tray liner was some kind of game or test you had to pass before you were considered a full time employee. I connected the dots with Crayons to form what looked like a dragon with seven heads and ten horns. Or it could have been a seahorse I’m not sure. There didn’t seem to be anyone checking for errors, so I just left it on the table. I was now a full time employee of Blackwater USA, making more than twenty times that of an average US soldier in Iraq.

Most people think of Blackwater as those wannabe soldiers protecting chicken shit diplomats inside the green zone in Baghdad. Nothing could be further from the truth. My first assignment was something they call “Blind Flying.” This is pretty much the same as Blind Firing but the difference is you climb aboard a C-17 Globemaster and the pilot dons his black bandana and you fly randomly to any place in the world. Secrecy is paramount. Blackwater contractors are not told where they are or what they are doing. Not even headquarters knows the full details of any mission. We were told to climb off the plane and start discharging our weapons anywhere. This is the Fog of War. No one knows what went on in those few seconds of chaos. It all happened in a blur of gunfire. Before I knew it we were back on the plane to another destination.

Civilian causalities are non-existent to Blackwater troops because everyone is an enemy or potential enemy. Corporations are also at war with each other, so there could be Blackwater contractors firing on themselves. You never want to point a gun at an individual unless you're prepared to use it and it is Blackwater’s policy to always have guns drawn so it's inevitable that anyone can be shot at anytime. However, Blackwater is always on guard due to extensive “bandana training.” There could be rogue Blackwater security forces working for OPEC, Pepsi and Nextel planning an attack on Mitsubishi, Ikea and Bud Light. Al Qaeda could join forces with Kellogg’s Fruity Pebbles to take control of the heroin market or even Hershey’s new ad campaign. We fight in a new paradigm. It’s a dangerous world but it’s our professionalism that seeks order through blind chaos.

This is the new Corporate Elite Soldier. Blackwater is committed to supporting national and international security policies that protect defenseless corporations whatever side they're on. They dedicate themselves to providing an efficient and effective stream of disorder that may randomly impact the lives of those still caught in a secure world. They are further committed to a ten horned hydra-headed seahorse-like beast. Those who believe in a peaceful future for their communities and nations will be caught in the cross fire too. Whether they serve in uniform or out, civilian or terrorist, non-combatant, animal, vegetable or mineral, Blackwater will be there.

I’ve been in somewhat of a mystical bent these past few days asking all kinds of questions on accepted belief systems. I usually start the morning off with a simple theoretical problem. For instance, today I’m thinking about hell. I know everyone says when you die and you go to hell you’re supposed to go to this really hot place forever. Without beginning or end. Eternally for a really long time. You can’t comprehend it. Kind of like an Opera of Macbeth in German followed by Parsifal with no breaks and the concession stand is out of beer.

But what’s the actual temperature of hell? Is it like 5000 degrees? 10,000 degrees? Is it as hot as the sun? That's supposed to be about 15 million degrees. Let’s say hell is 15 million degrees give or take. Whatever. When you get there it’s hotter than fuck like you just burned your face on one of those swirly orange glowing electric stove top things. That’s screaming and running around on fire hot. It’s going to really suck I know.

I’ve been mulling this around as a spiritual exercise. At first it’s definitely going to be hot. I got that. But people say hell is also eternal. So is it going to really suck that bad forever? For all eternity? Don’t you think after a while you’re going to get used to it? Let’s say after a million years or so. Or even a million billion years. But remember its eternity so a million billion years will seem like the blink of an eye. Let’s say you’ve been there for a bit longer than the blink of an eye. Let’s say it’s been about fifty years in hell time. After a while it’s going to feel like 15 million degrees is normal. That's the temperature it’s supposed to be. It's hell. It has to be that hot. But if it goes down at all it’s going to seem cooler and people in hell will get a small breather. It would have to constantly keep getting hotter for it to suck forever. How powerful is Satan if he can keep turning the temperature up forever?

He’s got to be a workaholic. He’s everywhere on earth and down in hell shoveling coal on a furnace, while at the same time tempting people to fornicate, steal, murder and believe in false gods. He’s also starting wars, famine, plagues and pestilence while shoveling more coal and keeping things always sucking. How does he find the time? Does he ever take a vacation? Here’s where the fundamentalists get you. This is what they say, “He has people do his work for him. He has a pitchfork and he stabs you on the head or neck while he turns up the heat. He may not even turn it up himself; he probably gets people to do that too. They crank up some kind of devil machine that he built. He tells them to do it and/or he has the pitchfork so they just do it anyway.”

Let me get this straight. We work for Satan. He jabs us with a pitchfork. We're really the ones working to keep it hot. So it’s really the pitchfork that sucks. Satan can’t do shit without it. How quick is he with this? There’s going to be a lot of people in hell so there better be a shit load of pitchforking. Did he build a machine for that too? And it’s got to keep getting worse or people will get used to it. It’s got to keep going in deeper, over every inch of your body, for eternity, for everyone in hell, or it’s not going to keep people working to make stuff hotter forever.

Still a million billion years of being hot and poked with a pointed stick is not my idea of fun. But ask yourself this. How has he been able to get away with this evil for so long? You would think somebody would have capped this guy a long time ago and saved us all the bullshit. So I look to the Bible for answers and I find out someone actually catches this fucker but they let him back out! Get this. In the Book of Revelation 20:1-3 it says,

“And I saw an angel come down from heaven, having the key of the bottomless pit and a great chain in his hand. And he laid hold on the dragon, that old serpent, which is the Devil, and Satan, and bound him a thousand years, and cast him into the bottomless pit, and shut him up, and set a seal upon him, that he should deceive the nations no more, till the thousand years should be fulfilled: and after that he must be let out for a short time.”

Does anyone ever ask how the fuck this happens? I know a lot of people are lost on the Trinity. People have a million different interpretations on Christ, God and the Bible. The Garden of Eden story is weird too because it seems like the snake is the one who actually told the truth about the apple. Or why did God put that tree in the garden with those fucked up apples there in the first place? Noah brings every kind of animal on a boat? Somehow he found every species of mosquito and poisonous toad, leeches and creepy parasites that crawl inside your eyeballs and lay eggs. There’s worms, bats, spiders and rats. You know how many different kinds of rats there are? I know it’s complicated. But God works in mysterious ways.

But let’s go back to the Book of Revelation if it wasn’t clear enough for you the first time. “Till the thousand years should be fulfilled: and after that he must be let out for a short time.”

You mean to tell me an angel catches this assclown and puts him in a bottomless pit. He shuts him up and seals him down. But for some strange reason he lets him out again? After only a thousand years? What in the fuck? You have the keys dillweed! What kind of angel is this? That sounds like a dick angel. Keep him in there! I'm in hell for all eternity and it’s hot as fuck. It lasts longer than a billion million years. No human can even comprehend how long it is. I'm getting beaten, stabbed and ass raped repeatedly. I also have to do Satan's work to keep hell hot and this fucktard angel let him free on work release? Does he have a good lawyer? Did he get out on a technicality or good behavior? Did the Lord of Flies get one of those ankle bracelets to clean trash on the highway and somehow hitchhikes back? And if he looks like Satan who would be dumb enough to pick him up? It would have to be some blind Greek mythology Professor who mistook his pitchfork for Poseidon's trident.

Sounds like bullshit to me.

I would just like to say with God as my witness that Glenna Odle is taking an express elevator directly to Heaven. And I bet there are all kinds of different levels in Heaven so she’s probably in the highest level. Glenna spent her whole life in a wheelchair yet she always remained at peace with the world. She never had a cruel thought in her heart. She never had a cruel thing to say. And she never did anything mean to anyone. I don’t think too many people on the face of the earth can claim that. I know I’ll be in a long line waiting for St. Peter to go over ever detail, checking my passport three times and running me through years of red tape and I better have a good lawyer. I suppose I’ll choose Glenna as my lawyer. Let me explain.

First off if you want to get into the Kingdom of Heaven you have to be like a child. In Luke 18:17 it says, “So, let even the little children come to me, and don’t hold them back. For the kingdom of God belongs to hearts so trusting; for without a childlike faith you will never enter the kingdom.” Everyone knows children are smarter than adults. Who wants to grow up anyway? You have to get a job, you have to do responsible things eight hours a day and no one really likes to work. Glenna didn’t have to work or do anything responsible. Is it not the saddest thing in life to have to get up in the morning and go to work? Is it not the happiest time in our life when we get to retire? What does it matter? In the end we all go to the same place anyway. As it says in Ecclesiastes, “Thus I considered all my activities which my hands had done and the labor which I had exerted, and behold all was vanity and striving after the wind and there was no profit under the sun.”

The funny thing about Glenna was her two favorite things to say. When you asked her anything she knew exactly what you were talking about and would say, “I know” or “I don’t know”. This always reminded me of the philosopher Socrates who said, “I know what I know and I know what I don’t know. I also know that I know nothing and that’s what makes me the wisest man in Athens.” So being smart or clever is not a big deal at all in the eyes of God.

Glenna didn’t talk much and that’s ok too. She probably didn’t have a giant vocabulary like some arrogant professor from a university. The Tao te Ching says, “Words do not define reality” and “Those who know don’t talk and those who talk don’t know.” The wisest people say very few words and that somehow makes perfect sense. Plus who here likes to listen to a long winded story anyway? There’s nothing more painful than listening to someone babble on and on about nothing while at the same time acting like they know everything.

And since we’re on the subject, any psychologist will state that a sense of humor is clear proof of intelligence. And trust me Glenna knew how to laugh. We used to have to try not to tell a joke or make a fart sound while she was eating because there was an actual risk involved. She could get so choked up we would have to do a Heimlich maneuver just to get the food lodged out. That is serous laughter and we all knew it was coming just at the right time, in the right place and it spread all across the room.

One year for Christmas Julie bought Glenna a small toy fart machine and we all laughed for hours. And let me just state for the record as a professional comedian. There is nothing funnier than the fart sound. There’s also nothing funnier when someone else is in a little pain. Not a lot of pain. Just enough to make them jump. Glenna was good at that too. She would reach over and pinch you just to see you squirm and she’d get the biggest kick out of that. We would pinch her back and she’d punch us in the arm. The laughter would start and the fart machine would go off and her face would get red with laughter and mom would yell at us kids to leave Glenna alone. It was just constant laughter and chaos with Glenna. It was non stop jokes and no time to be serious.

The only time Glenna was serious was when it came time to opening presents at Christmas. And Glenna got a serious load of presents. She always got more than all the kids combined. That’s why it took so long. Anyone who saw that kind of loot would just roll their eyes. I can see the expression on her face now, “This is too much work. Just point out which one has the fart machine and let me get my hands on it.”

So in closing let me get back to my original point. In my life, with my ability to walk, my so called intelligence, my sharp tongue and my endless consumption of alcohol have gotten me in all kinds of trouble. I am a miserable worthless sinner with almost no chance of redemption. That’s why I’ll have to call Glenna as my defense council.

St. Peter will say James did this and James did that.

Glenna will say, “I know”

St. Peter will say, “How many times did he pinch you? How many times did he stick his tongue out at you? He’s walking around like he owns everything. I can’t let this guy just barge right into heaven.”

Glenna will nod her head again and say, “I know”.

“Did James do anything thing at all on earth that is of any importance?”

Glenna will say, “I don’t know.” But then she’ll press the button on the fart machine and St. Peter will burst out laughing. The whole host of heaven will be laughing too with all the angels and prophets and this will be enough distraction so I can walk right in while no one’s looking.

Thank you Glenna. Thank you for all your smiles and laughter. Thank you for all your pinches and punches. Thank you for your fart sounds. Thank you for being the smartest most wisest person I know and teaching me what really matters in this world. We will all truly miss you Glenna. Everyone at the Johnson County Nursing Home will miss you. Everyone in our family will miss you. The whole world will miss you. We love you so much Glenna. God is taking you home now and Mr. Elvis Aaron Presley is there too!

I’m chatting with a friend about UFOs, The Book of Revelation and Implantable Transponder Chips, it’s just another Sunday afternoon and I stopped in mid sentence thinking of the word transponder. "Hey that sounds familiar. I seem to remember reading something about the transponders being turned off somewhere. Like some kind of switch those sneaky Towelheads found on 9-11. NORAD was up shit creek as George W. Bush read a book on feral goats."

What is the purpose of an Epidermal Implantable Transponder Chip? Why do they tell us we’ll need it one day? Oh for fuck sake maybe grandpa is lost in the woods again. He’s got distemper. We don’t know what he might do. We’ll have to put a chip on his forehead just to keep track.

Do you think grandpa will have that secret on/off switch too? Just in case all hell breaks loose and he needs the switch for some reason when he’s lost in the woods? Let’s say he’s not really lost he just wants to turn the switch off for a goof. Maybe he wants to play a prank on the front desk girl at the Sunnyvale Rest Home. Maybe the doctor who implanted it on his skull told him about the switch, “Remember Frank. If things get really crazy you can always shut the transponder off. If you’re ever lost and you don’t want to be found just flip this switch right here on the taint. It’s in a secret place between the scrotum and butthole. Taint balls, taint ass. Get it? Well anyway no one should ever find it.”

But wait here’s a possible scenario. Frank is lost in the woods unprotected. He’s rolling around smacking into trees. Sunnyvale Rest Home needs to keep track. It’s total chaos. Anything can happen. Let’s say a group of Boy Scouts find Frank naked and screaming in a patch of poison ivy. Let’s say hypothetically the Scout Master is a pedophile. Let’s also say, just for the sake of argument that the Scout Master tells the troop to beat and fuck Frank until he’s dead and they’ll all get a Gang Rape Merit Badge. The PowerReachTM5G transponder module in Frank’s forehead is capable of transmitting data up to distances of 320 kilometers. The front desk at Sunnyvale has an array of tracking equipment. They know the exact location of every patient. But the Scout Master knows where Frank’s secret switch is. An hour and fifty minutes creep by and Frank is raped repeatedly by a troop of adolescent Boy Scouts.

How did the Scout Master know about the secret switch? Why would the doctor implant a Transponder Chip in Frank’s forehead with an on/off switch on his taint? The Transponder is there for a reason. It’s for emergencies. Anything can happen in the woods. Sunnyvale needs to know where Frank is at all times. Somehow he gets lost on the radar screen. Do they send out a nurse? Call the police? Form a search party? Fuck no. It just so happens, Frank was raped during a routine exercise. The staff at Sunnyvale were coincidentally herding everyone out the door for the rape crisis awareness drill Virginal Guardian. No one saw what was happening until it was too late.

The Scout Master gives a long patriotic speech about honor and silence during a time of tragedy. Frank’s corpse is buried by the troop in a shallow grave and later dug up by wolves and torn to pieces. This is just a hypothetical situation. The important point I want to make is that the PowerReachTM5G transponder module should not come with the on/off mode option.

Or here’s another scenario. Sunnyvale might want to keep track of Frank’s family. Let’s say there are all kinds of people coming and going through the Sunnyvale Rest Home security perimeter. Things can get crazy. People drop off presents and flowers. They visit at all hours of the day. You never know how long to stay. Old people can die at any time. Maybe, just maybe the family might want to know of Frank’s impending death while they’re out buying flowers. Or Sunnyvale might want to know where Frank’s family is just in case they forgot to send the rent check.

How can Sunnyvale convince all the families to come on board with the PowerReachTM5G transponder module? This may sound crazy, but what if Sunnyvale could stage an event somehow, say another Virginal Guardian test. Frank may or not be in on it. The doctor may have told him about it or it was stuck somewhere in the appendix on page 378 of the PowerReachTM5G transponder instruction manual. PowerReach will clearly inform all customers of article 66934vs2r17.

“In the event of (0) / 2 + (k=1..) (a(k) cos kx + b(k) the customer will agree to 1/PI f(x) kx dx 9838453 any test Sunnyvale Rest Home may decide to exercise during a routine Dn(t) dt Sn(x) = 1/PI № f(x+t) Dn(t) dt Dn(x) = Dirichlet kernel = to advance said customer support relations 1/2 + cos x + cos 2x + cos nx = [ sin(n + 1/2)x ] / [ 2sin(x/2) ] under article 66934vs2r17 of the PowerReachTM5G transponder instruction manual limf(t) cos kt dt = lim(k->)f(t) sin kt dt = 0 A(0) a Scout Master may fuck your ass [ A(k) cos (k(PI)x / m) + B(k) (sin k(PI)x / m) so we can test our radar system or start a war with ] a(k) = 1/m f(x) any other Rest Home we want which may or may not have supplies we need (k(PI)x / m) dx xk+1 = (xk + y / (xk)n-1) if you agree to these terms and conditions it really doesn’t matter 21/3 = 1.259921049894 B = 0.61357421875 We’ll do what we want whenever we want 29 = 0.7098625 * 23 exp = 9 - 3 = 6 yi+1 = yi + (xn/2)(a - yi2) ax2 + 2bx + c = 0 x2/r2 = 1+ 2/r2 = -130 = 0”

Basically what this means is Frank’s part of the Sunnyvale Rest Home “test” or what we could describe as the PowerReachTM5G transponder Vigilant Grandfather exercise. Since PowerReach virtually owns Sunnyvale and can shut the electricity off with one key stroke we’ll just call it the PowerReach Frank is Fucked Guardian Test Thing Whatever. We can call it what we want. The point is Sunnyvale needs to keep track. So they stage a spectacular event. They hire a few Scout Masters to beat and fuck Frank in the woods until he’s unconscious. The family was told all about the significance of the Transponder Chip. But somehow the on/off switch got activated and the family wants to know why. That’s where PowerReach comes in. They sing a few Sunnyvale songs, print up some bumper stickers so we never forget and the CEO reminds people of what can happen in the woods. The family gets a heartfelt promise from the PowerReach PR firm on the mistakes that were made and how the PowerReachTM5G transponder module from this day forward will not come with the on/off mode option.

The world is filled with retards and we’re all heading toward the apocalypse with a go-cart riding drunken Shriner at the controls. I don’t know when all this started but somebody has to be pulling the strings and whoever it is has got to be one blind ass mutated half-human depraved lunatic.

First off those demonic midget wannabe martyr Palestinians need to fucking go out into the desert or wherever they came from to blow themselves up. That’s the first thing you learn as a child on the Fourth of July. GO OUT IN THE YARD IF YOU’RE GOING TO SET THAT OFF!!! You see, dad wants you to have fun because it’s the Fourth of July but he doesn’t want to have to deal with cherry bombs going off in the house. Jerusalem is Gods house and God is Dad for every Christian, Jew and Muslim but he’s tired of listening to the crap and I bet he doesn’t really care how many of these worthless fucks explode. Just go out to one of your dried up creek beds to do it!

Second. The Jews need to stop stealing land from the Palestinians and send their bulldozers to the Reichland. If there’s anyone they need to be pissed at it should be the Germans. After WWII the United Nations should have given the Jews carte blanche to fuck with any German, anywhere, anytime, with no warning, out of the blue, just free rein to beat men, women and children in the head at all hours of the day till they get their six million eye for an eye pay back. You see there’s a little psychological thing called displacement. That’s when you’re pissed at someone but you can’t get him or her back so you take it out on somebody else. The Jews are still pissed at Germany and they’re taking it out on their little retard brothers the Palestinians.

Next on the list is our chigger bite covered hillbilly President George Bush. For the love of God please step down and let someone with a fucking brain run things. It’s like watching my dad on the computer. He doesn’t know anything and he’s clicking buttons that could fuck everything up. You just want to scream at his head, “GET OUT OF THE WAY AND LET ME DO IT!! GODDAM YOU ALMOST DELETED YOUR ENTIRE HARD DRIVE!!” How George Bush ever graduated from Yale is beyond my comprehension. When he looks into the camera with that idiot smirk he reminds me of a cross-eyed divorced-suicidal-State Farm Insurance-salesman. Just get out of the way and let Cheney work the pump. You’re going to get gas all over yourself and set the entire station on fire.

This is not in any order of importance but fourth on the list is Saudi Arabia. Fifteen of the nineteen hijackers came straight out of this God forsaken sand hole and they better start kissing some serious American ass. We had their backs during the Gulf War and they send suicide bombers? We build a state of the art air base on their Martian landscape and we get 86'd because Allah says we're whitetrash? We send experts over to show them how to pump petroleum jelly out of the ground so they can sodomize their goats and they disrespect? Better send out some props to your homies Fahd or it’s going to be Disneyland, McDonalds, Hooters and Wal-Mart on every corner with HBO pumping gay snuff porn and Bill Gates subletting your entire country.

Last but not least, Colin Powel needs to either join a minstrel show or commit hari-kari on the dance floor of the UN for taking the American people on a weapons of mass destruction snipe hunt. Saddam said he didn’t have any, the UN inspection team said they didn't exist, the world news has a camera pointed in every direction and we have troops in the bath houses of Baghdad to the pig farms in Tikrit on random cavity search detail and still not one infected snot rag or x-ray tube stuffed with Pop Rocks. Nothing! Nada! Zilch! We’ve turned the entire country upside down and looked under every nook and cranny, inside every camels ass, every gyro, burnt tire, soccer ball, Sumerian lampshade and still nothing? Either Saddam is playing one hell of a slight of hand trick with these factory second mustard gas containers or we just had the wool pulled over our eyes by Massah Bush and Uncle Colin Tom’s tap dancing step and fetch the crude oil routine.

And here's point six of my five point plan. The world needs to sit back with a beer and peace the fuck out or it’s going to be Four Horses trampling on humanity’s head while the Rodeo Clowns are stuck knee deep in Beast shit. We’ll all sit bug eyed glued to the Apocalypse Live on CNN watching some kind of freakish Gunsmoke episode written by Wes Craven in collaboration with David Lynch brought to you by Satan, Mobil Oil, Exxon and Unocal.

"Each individual human life exists as an objectively unique and therefore quite individual decision making process."

If I were to believe this I would cease to be unique… I would be a collective member of your Individualist Party.

"In human beings, the biologically based decision making process, like the biological processes of birth and death, can never be collectivized."

When a biologically based decision maker of the Individualist Party decides to go to war, individuals must be collectivized to fight to the death for a few individuals on the top who are more unique than other individuals…

"We are born individually, die individually and actualize the meaning and purpose of our lives through the individual decisions which we make in the course of traversing our individual paths from birth to death."

We are conceived by two people socializing… Our parents give us almost everything the first fifteen years of our life and when we die other people have to dig a six foot hole, dump our corpse in and tramp down the dirt…

"According to neurophysiology space and time are categories of our physical sensory perception and thus constitute the contribution of the human nervous systems to the synthesis of human perceptions of the physical world."

Therefore all truth is subjective… This is YOUR individual perception and you have created this reality to reinforce your own self actualized masturbatory self contained Individualist Party dogma..

"Reality as the ground of being must therefore exist outside and independent of the coordinate system which is provided by these categories."

This Reality exists outside, above, beyond and independent of any coordinate system you may use to describe it with…

"The ground of the physical world's being must have an existence beyond the spatio/tempoal categories of our sensory perception."

Your sensory perception of categories has a temporal space within your own existence and must one day return to the physical ground…

"That is, its ground of being must be non-local and/or atemporal. There must be a non-local and/or atemporal form of physical beingness."

This ground may be local and/or non-local depending on where other individuals choose to bury your corporal physical body along with all your temporal ideas on individuals collected by your sense perceptions… You may be dumped in a location close to your parents who decided to create you by socializing collectively… This plot may be marked with a granite headstone and will look very much like all the others… Afterwards your friends may or may not socialize with a few beers and discuss your unique individual philosophy…

"The atemporal human beingness which inheres (as Life itself) in the irrefutable and glorious existence of each individual human life, functions therefore for each individual human being as its sole and absolutely unconditional REALITY."

This event happens to each individual human being and is the only absolute unconditioned reality..

"As such, it is an absolute standard of value."

And could cost up to 10,000 dollars…

"That each individual human life is an end onto itself, is dictated in the last analysis by reason's faith in itself."

See above..

"However, any morality based upon the blind subservience (and/or forced allegiance) of this objectively unique (and therefore quite individual) decision making process to the wish-based (and therefore quite arbitrary) totems and taboos of a collectivist ethic, severs a priori this irreducible non-arbitrary and non-collective decision making process from its individual biological roots and ontological ground."

See above…

This is what I fucking hate about every Branch Davidian conversation… It’s always an argument about the FBI or what the government did or who shot first or who deserved to die… The fucking point to me is the fact that these people were willing to go the distance with this guy… WHO the fuck was he and WHAT was it he said that made these people from all over the world listen to this man jabbering until SIX in the morning about the end of the world… OK let’s just say he was CRAZY and the government killed him… Does anyone even read the Bible anymore? THAT’S WHAT THE PEOPLE IN POWER HAVE ALWAYS DONE TO THE PROPHETS! I’m a fucking Buddhist and I know this… Read all the FBI conspiracy theories you want and who shot first I don’t give a fuck… I WANT TO KNOW WHAT IT WAS THIS FUCKER SAID! I love to hear crazy shit… I would love to hear a few sermons from this guy… Fuck I’ve listened to Doug Stanhope at his compound in Panamint Springs gacked out of his mind on Mushrooms… It’s always brilliant even when you can’t understand what he’s saying… I LOVE crazy people and sometimes they are right on… It’s like they’re SO fucking crazy they become wise in a way… So the thing I hate about the Waco debacle is the fact that we have very little left… All the videos and tapes of his sermons went up in flames with everything else… All the Prophets in the Bible were crazy psychotic freaks speaking out against injustice… It was a dangerous profession… The Truth is always dangerous… I want to know what he was saying…