A Jab at the Eyes of Big Brother

Big Brother is watching you, just like they said he would.

I guess it must've been inevitable. People wanna feel secure. People are afraid. People are distrustin'. And they ain't to be trusted. That's why somebody's gotta watch 'em. That's why somebody's gotta keep us under their thumb. It must be 'cause that's what happens.

We got cameras in every grocery store. We got 'em poppin' up over every stop light in the country. We even put cameras in every phone now and make 'em readily available for every Youth. You can watch people watching the ones you love through cameras in daycares or nursing homes. We make sure you can't walk down the street without someone seein' your face. Someone, somewhere, that you don't even know can see your face right now.

Is it really what this country needs? Is it really what anybody wants?

How 'bout these red light cameras? What are they really good for? They actually do stop people from runnin' red lights. No better incentive to stop doin' sumthin' than to know you're gonna get busted for it. Statistics I've found say it all but stops right angle collisions. If you're in North Carolina the fine is a minimal, but still too rich for my blood, fifty bucks. These statistics say that overall traffic accidents have gone down 'cause of these things. Seems like there really shouldn't be a problem right?

But to me there is. If you look at those same statistics they'll tell you that the rear end collision rate has gone up quite a bit 'cause of people slammin' on the brakes at a yellow light to avoid gettin' ticketed. Along with that the number of injuries from collisions has gone up as well. Somehow numerically that still adds up to less accidents overall.

I'm sure the number of dollars generated thanks to such tickets has gone up though. In Cali, you run a red light you owe somebody $500 bucks. I think I'll just take the bus. In Tennessee, they cut the yellow by almost a full second and you know those things don't last long as it is. They got in trouble for it and wound up refunding all those fines. In Iowa, twenty-six cops got ticketed for different instances where they ran red lights, fifteen of 'em are gonna be disciplined through their jobs. The rest are cleared and from what I read, there was no mention of a fine for those boys. They apparently got off 'cause they were on their way to emergency calls and just forgot to put on a siren. What happens when they forget to put the safety on their gun? Or when they pull sumthin' like that with a kid on the road? Or better yet if they can get off with sayin' "I'll be more careful next time" why can't we?

And not to sound like a real conspiracy nut, but I think it's fair to at least wonder just why we seem to NEED these cameras in our phones. People used to have cameras and they used to have phones. Now everybody's got these digital jobs that hold information in the phone or camera. You send these to your friends along with texts and jokes and whatever other crap you can send now and never give it another thought. But doesn't that stuff gotta travel through a satellite and be redirected. Ever wonder if they keep records of all that stuff? Or if they send it anywhere else than where it's s'posed to go? They could and we'd never know. I dunno that they do. I'd certainly hope Sprint or AT&T or whoever ain't doin' such things but who's to say?

All I know is that I don't like that if I get into a fight with a guy or if I take a leak in a back alley it could easily be up on youtube in an hour. I don't like havin' the eyes of big brother on me.

Life isn't meant to be watched and monitored or feared. Life is for livin'. Sometimes that means runnin' a red light or speedin' or doin' sumthin' that's against the rules. We don't need cameras to threaten us into bein' perfect. We aren't perfect. We should account for our need to be bad once in a while and the fact that we make mistakes.

It starts with watchin' you, then listenin' to you, before too long you won't be free to be you.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red_light_camera

http://www.officer.com/web/online/Top-News-Stories/Red-Light-Cameras-Catch-Iowa-Police/1$53218

Conspiracy Theory

'Case you hadn't heard there's a bit of an issue in the Gulf. That oil's still steadily leakin'. So much so that this gunk is washin' up on my beaches and rainin' on my Cajun brothers over in Louisiana.

I don't know what to say about it exactly. I guess that's why I haven't said anything yet. All I can figure to say is fix the damn thing already. And get us off oil. Oil is limited and is gonna run out on us one day. It's dirty and messy. It is a motivational tool for people to start wars and kill each other over.

I heard a story, and I'm not sure if it's a hundred percent true but I'd buy it as logical. So there was a time when electricity was like that new I-phonewhatchakajigger and everybody had to have it. It was gonna change the world. J.P. Morgan Chase invested some big money in the copper wires that were gonna be used to bring it to every house in America. At the same time Nikola Tesla, as in the Tesla coil and about 100 other patents, was thinkin' a few steps ahead of the game as geniuses do. He figured out a way to bring people electricity with out wires, kinda like what they do with our wireless Internet or those charging pad things. Well Chase wasn't havin' that so he pretty well shut him down with his money and influential ties. A lotta people stood to lose money if Tesla got his way and people would've saved a lot of money.

Tesla was a genius and got shut down in his day. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nikola_Tesla Even some of his patents came up missing according to wikipedia. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Tesla_patents There they say he had a theory about and engine-less plane that could fly using electromagnetism that would look sumthin' like a saucer.

A flyin' saucer? Absurd right? 'Cept what if the Government and influential money bag types were keepin' these theories hush so they could say steal 'em and experiment with them in quiet locations where people wouldn't notice 'em? A desert maybe? Like in New Mexico? They got a lil air force base out there. And you know four short years after Tesla died alone and "crazy" in a hotel room a saucer crash landed in Roswell. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roswell_UFO_incident

Not sayin' its true. But it's at least feasible.

I also hear that people are gettin' upset about this Internet control bill. http://www.smh.com.au/technology/security/obama-internet-kill-switch-bill-approved-20100625-z8sf.html

What a lotta people don't realize is that the government already has control of this thing. They can read all this stuff as easy as flippin' through a picture book. Anything you or I ever posted is there's to remove from cyberspace or use to incriminate us or figure out where we are and what we're up to. Now more than ever with facebook, myspace, twitter, and any other website you give yourself up to the system to play a game, keep up with old friends, or look at nudy pics. There isn't much hidin' for your average Internet user. If we were ever any serious threat to anyone we'd be labeled a Nazi, Communist, terrorist or whatever the enemy of freedom may be at that time and taken in under a black hood never to be seen again. The rest of us are governed by the rules of the world as it is commonly seen.

The world is run by money. At least America is. I love the freedoms we can enjoy in this country. But I won't have lies or thugs posing as legitimate businessmen manipulating the people. If you look and open your eyes you can see the strings, puppets.

You hear about alternative energy sources but no one invests in those crazy dreamers because there's good money left in oil. As oil dies out more and more people are investing in those sources until we use them up.

The banks and credit cards charge you fees to be in debt to them and misspend your money. Their job is to hold your money and keep it safe. I don't want to rack up ten billion points in money spent for a free airline ticket to Hawaii. I don't want to have 15 grand in my savings account for you not to take 20 bucks a months from me for holding on to it. If I didn't have a hundred dollars to pay for X why would I agree to instead to pay 120 to Y? Oh to be as cool as Brad Pitt, well that makes sense.

Why does the rest of the world not seem to like us? We think we are the best. We think we are the good guys. We are not. We send soldiers to kill for more oil. Worse than that we send young boys to kill for more oil. We send young, horny, immature, dumbass, boys to kill for oil. Some of the rape innocent people. Some of them kill innocent people. Some of them steal from innocent people. War is not precise. War is not beautiful. It does not turn a boy into a man. It corrupts a boy. It is messy. It is ugly. The best of those soldiers come back wounded physically or mentally or both. It is unfortunate what we do to these boys.

I love comics. It's easy to see the good guy be handsome and dressed in brightly colored spandex or the bad guy as an ugly monster. The world is not that simple. We are all just people. Just people tryin' to make our lives as good as we can, sometimes that means shuttin' down the genius of a good man to make a quick buck. That won't ever be me though.

Read everything you can. Question everything. Doubt everyone. See all the angles. Think freely.

The Trouble with Being a Hero

So...

Computers kinda suck. I know they can be used for a million and one things. One of 'em bein' that they can pick up bugs and viruses. Great. So I gotta put mine in the shop again tomorrow. I dunno when I'll get it back. So, rather than write quick without thinkin' and givin' you crap to read I'm gonna give you my favorite short story that I've written.

This is based on a character that my brother and I created. He came up with the concept. I gave him a back story and a vague destiny. This story is what people in the comic industry call a "one-shot" or what people in the T.V. business call a "pilot". It's a story to set up what the character's all about and demonstrate him as a viable project for an ongoing series. I think this one works. I wrote it and I read it. I don't like reading my own work several times because I wrote it, I know the story, there's not always a lot of fun in going over it again and again except to look at all the things I could've done better. This story I've read at least a dozen times and I still remain pleased with it. I wouldn't change a thing.

Hope you like it.

The Trouble with Being a Hero

People have a million and one memories that flow in and out of their heads without even trying. A favorite toy as a kid, a relative, a good friend, a bunch of different things fit in people’s heads without ever getting over crowded. I only have one memory of my own.

I close my eyes and I see a young girl. She’s scrawny with jet black hair, eyes almost as dark and brown skin. She’s about eight, maybe a little younger, I can’t really tell for sure. She looks happy. It makes me feel happy to remember her. I’m glad I do. Things have been a little difficult lately and I need a little something to help get me by.

I suppose difficult is an understatement. Apparently, I just spent the last twenty years of my life conquerin’ half the known world. I destroyed everything I saw and killed damn near everybody who didn’t follow me. I was the meanest, baddest, baby-punchingest, fucker ever to walk the earth. There was even a little rumor goin’ around that I might have been some kind of anti-Christ.

How bad is that? That’s a special kind of evil that’s labeled as an anti-Christ. I suppose when a guy goes out into battle and gets hit with every blade or bullet ever made, he should be all kinds of dead. But I come out of it not without a scratch, but all fucked up, pulling swords and bullets out of me like I was some kind of pin cushion. Not to mention I’ve sent so many people to Hell I might as well be a travel agent. There’s really only two ways to go about describing a guy who can do that kind of stuff. He’s either God or the Devil.

I’m neither. I used to be man. The girl in my head is proof enough of that. Proof enough for me anyway. For the rest of the world it may take a little bit more than that. Not everybody is exactly eager to believe a former mass troublemaker like me is turnin’ over a new leaf. This bunch of people I’ve been running with lately seem to think that if I help people I might trick folks into thinkin’ I’m somethin’ other than the baddest motherfucker ever to breath.

Suckers.

Fact is I am one of the most powerful things on the planet and I have been corrupted. I am as bad as people say because of this thing that’s inside of me. This black goop that hides itself under my skin feeds on my anger, on my hate. It uses that to make me, or us , stronger. I don’t know what it is but it talks to me. It tells me things. Things I like hearing no matter how disturbing they may be. I know it’s wrong to want to rip a man’s head off but this blackness has me thinking it was always fun no matter how many times I did it.

To think that at all I suppose I had to be pretty screwed up in the head before it decided to crawl up in me. Normal people aren’t supposed to want to kill. Even soldiers don’t take pleasure in it. Honestly, I don’t know for sure if I would or not right now. I suppose it depends on whether or not the guy I kill deserves it.

That little girl is the one good memory I have. She seems happy to see me so maybe I wasn’t all bad. So I have to go along with the plan to be good. Gotta behave. No matter how much fun I could have tearing people apart.

I sit here on top of a small hotel in the Middle East thinking of that raven haired girl and wonder if she’s my daughter, a friend, or one of countless innocent people I’ve murdered. I hope I didn’t kill her. That thought makes me feel alone, kind of empty. She’s the only thing I got left in my head that I feel is from before I was a monster. I want her to still be alive. I want to find her so she can tell me if I was really as bad as I think I was. I hope she lies like Hell too.

Below me in some marketplace, if you’d call a street lined with shops made of twigs and rags a marketplace, I hear several angry shouts. The shouts are spewed from fat, hairy, sweaty, men who move with all their chunkiness to carry their fat asses down the street. They sweat and wheeze as they chase after some little girl. She’s carrying a few pieces of fruit she probably stole from them. Getting caught stealing is a bad habit, especially if you stole from guys who could pound you into the ground just by tripping. Maybe she thought the hippos wouldn’t notice. Fat chance. They notice and they don’t like it. The really big one, with the steak knife he was obviously eating with, means to do some damage.

She moves her chicken legs as fast as she can. She tries to carry her gristly excuse for bones to safety but she’s scared and doesn’t know which way to run. She zigzags through the crowd knocking over a few people and baskets. One guy on a bike slams into a wall trying to avoid her. The big boys behind her follow as swiftly as they can. At this rate she’s going to lose them soon.

I leap across the roof tops to keep up with them. I run and leap from building to building, kicking up dust and scaring away birds. Some roofs lose shingles, others damn near cave in, but I keep running just the same. I can see buildings that look about ready to fall. Some are black like jagged stumps left over from a forest fire. I fucked up this area less than a week ago. They tried keeping me out of people’s homes but the fight got a little carried away. The people haven’t even had much of a chance to move away. A lot of them probably can’t afford to. Some are probably too broke to eat, maybe even orphans because of me.

Maybe it’s that guilt that makes me do all of this just to keep an eye on a little girl I don’t know and who’s in the wrong. Of course being a criminal myself I do tend to root for the bad guy. Being in the wrong doesn’t mean capital punishment though. The big body brigade here seems to think it does but they’ve all but given up after about four blocks. I’m surprised they made it that far. Really surprised their shoes held up.

She’s at least a block ahead of the fastest man when she trips over her dirty old sandal as a strap on it breaks. Those damn shoes. As she’s going down another girl riding towards her veers away. The rider loses her balance but lands on the thief’s left leg. The two girls cry out in pain. The rider holds her wrist as she sits up. The stick figure thief holds her leg and moves the bike. Her blood drips from the uncovered metal handlebar and down her leg.

The stick leaves what she’s stolen scattered in the street. She bleeds down the road to get to safety. She stumbles into a half exploded apartment complex. I’m pretty sure that building was my fault. What’s left of the building hides her from my eyesight, not that there’s much to hide. The lumpy men have stopped running but the blood ain’t very hard to follow. It’s time for me to step in.

I let the darkness in me do what little good it can and almost fly across the street and into an apartment missing a wall. The apartment complex holds up and I rush to find a way to the little girl. The place reminds me of some kind of twisted little girl’s version of a doll house the way one whole side is missing.

I bust my ass comin’ down some stairs that were deceptively sturdy. Luckily, a lamp breaks my fall. I heal from anything, but everything still hurts. I’m plucking porcelain out of me when I see dead bodies staring at me. My damned fault they’re dead. Poor bastards stink to high Hell. No time for a proper burial though. I got a little girl I need to help.

I hear the fat men huffing and puffing on the second floor looking for her. It won’t be long before they catch up to her. I’m still two stories up with no easy way down. It’s damn frustrating to know I’m responsible for her situation even if I don’t know her. The anger I feel makes my skin burn. I’m pissed at myself for making her life miserable. Pissed ‘cause I did a lot of bad shit. Pissed ‘cause I can’t remember a God-damned thing. My skin burns hot and the thick black goop pours out of me like sweat. It hardens over my body and becomes my black armor, an unbreakable barrier between me and the world.

I use that barrier to plow through the floors like a damned bullet. I come down to the first floor in a dark room, only a few streaks of daylight shine through. The two fat boys in here turn their attention to me. My eyes flare up like a torch. I growl, if Hell has a sound I’m sure that’s it. One of them must agree ‘cause he pisses himself all of two seconds before he passes out.

Sissy.

Chunky butt number two picks up a busted plank of wood. It’s gonna hurt goin’ up his ass but that’s what he picked. He swings slowly and wildly. I let it hit me. It hurts him more than me. It’s like swingin’ a bat into a tree, when I concentrate. He drops the plank and shouts in pain. As his head is raised I give him a swift jab to the throat, not too hard don’t wanna kill him. I’m a liar. I don’t care if he lives or dies but I did hold back. I pick up the wooden plank and break it across my knee. As porky’s crawlin’ around on all fours gasping for air, I launch the board into his fleshy ass like a dart. He cries out in pain. I laugh.

I hear a high pitched shout in the hall just outside this apartment. The girl. I let myself get distracted with this asshole. I step out and realize that son of a bitch just did the dumbest thing he could ever do. A God damned steak knife is stickin’ out of that little girl. I run at him and make a sound. If the devil heard it he just shit his britches. I punch the worthless baby-killer so hard he almost flies out of the apartment complex before I drag him back in the shadows with me.

I lose control. The dark side takes over. It’s fast and violent and painful. There’s nothing left of him. Funny, ‘cause he’s everywhere.

I go to the girl and hold her up. She’s already gone. That worthless excuse for a human being sent her away. People wonder why I’m as mean as I am. I’d be a good guy if people were something better than me.

She’s gone but I can bring her back. This goop doesn’t just heal me. If I concentrate it can do damn near anything. I can work miracles with this shit. I close my eyes and put my hand over her wound. I concentrate on fixing her. Bring her back God damn it. Let her go or I swear to God I will fuck you up.

She coughs. Blood spurts from her mouth. I lift my hand and there’s nothing, not even a scar, not even the wound on her leg. She opens her eyes. Tears fill the dark brown circles. She pushes me away and runs. I fall back and watch her run away from me.

I look down and see the blood and pieces of flesh that are still splashed across me. No wonder she ran. All that hate, all that determination, all my power means nothing if the one little girl I care about looks at me like she just did. I have to be a better man. I have to do this right. There’s no room for mistakes. I saved her life and I killed a piece of shit that deserved it but I can’t lose control again. I have to be in control not this devil inside me or else I’m just Trouble.

Fightin' the Good Fight

Bein' in a relationship is hard. I think a lot of people expect it to come naturally and without conflict. It doesn't happen that way.

You ever see an old couple fight? Old couples are always fightin'. You know why? Cause they still got stuff worth fightin' about.

See, the key to a good relationship ain't to find someone and meld into one person. It ain't about findin' someone you'll never fight with. It's to find that person that compliments you in such a way that it doesn't take away from who you are but instead you both fit together. It's like findin' that puzzle piece that fits you and you fit it. Neither bends or compromises to fit perfectly, instead you work together fillin' each others' gaps. You bend into the best you that you can be no more no less. When you're there you'll fit just right.

It's hard to be mindful of this but if you want it to work you gotta. You gotta love the person you're with for who they are. You mold 'em to be sumthin' else and you wind up not lovin' who they really are. You love this Cupid's monster that you created which isn't real. They'll know it. You'll know it. Sooner or later one of you is gonna get tired of playin' the role.

I was in a relationship some time ago that screwed me up. I was allowing myself to bend to be whatever she wanted. While I was becomin' everything a girl could want she was givin' nuthin' back. I still have bad dreams about her. That's no life for anyone. You can't give yourself up like that. You'll kill yourself tryin' to be perfect, just gotta be you.

You also gotta know when it's enough. Can't bend to accept a person you ain't happy with. You ain't happy, you ain't happy. If they don't wanna be what you really want and you don't wanna have to put up with what they are, why should you have to? I seen too many people put up with crazy, drug addicted, abusive, or manipulative partners. There's no reason for it. It's not wrong to stand up for yourself in a relationship. It might cause a fight but you might get your other half to see that they're in the wrong.

The problem with assertin' who you are is that you're prolly gonna butt heads with somebody about who you should be. Everybody wants a lil independence and to have a lil fun. And they should be allowed to. Even if it means doin' sumthin' crazy or at least that their other half doesn't agree with. Doesn't mean that a relationship is gonna come to a screechin' halt just means that two people ain't on the same page about a thing.

I'm a grumpy old man for bein' a twenty-five year old. I don't like fun so much. I often dunno what to do with a good time. Work I can do all day and night and feel good about myself. I don't like drinkin' to get drunk. I don't like doin' things I might regret. I regret and feel bad about enough as it is. That's my personality. You take me to a party and you ain't gonna have much fun if you expect me to mingle and make small talk and lead everyone in a drum circle. If you want me to give somebody a lecture on the importance of human rights or literature or be responsible for gettin' somebody home safe, I'm your guy. I know I don't have as much fun as I could. But I'm the kind of guy I wanna be. For the most part.

Still, with all my sureness of who I am, I can impose those beliefs on the people around me and expect them to hold themselves the same way I do. I have to remember that other people, my Princess in particular, are free spirits. I love that about her. I love that I can enjoy a lil bit of that freedom when I'm with her. I'll never be as free. I feel too committed to bein' too responsible.

But even when I think she's bein' too free for her own good I gotta remember that it's her and her choice. While I can try to protect her from what I might think is a bad idea I gotta let her take her risks and have her fun.

Even if it means we have a fight once in a while because we see things differently, I'd rather fight the good fight with her than give up on us. I'd like to see us fight as and old couple of puzzle pieces asserting who we are and what we believe than see us lay down for one another to be molded into sumthin' we're not.

Dave...

First off, I'd like to talk a lil shit for minute if you'd indulge me. See there was an incident where a good for nuthin' piece of garbage' put his hands on my June and spit on her and even in her car. For me, 'nuff said. I'd have whooped his ass all up and down the damn street if I was there. Lucky for him I wasn't. I was stuck at work and didn't hear about it til he was long gone.


To Dave :


You know who you are you dirty, rotten, motherfucker. You ain't nuthin' but a punk ass piece of gutter trash. I better not run into you ever again. You know you done wrong and I ain't one to forget it. I'd advise you to stay outta my neck of the woods. You put your hands on my girlfriend ever again...let's just say it's better that you don't. So, fuck you and stay away from me and mine.



Sorry 'bout the cussin' folks but I'd say he earned that to say the least.


I got me a good woman and I wouldn't be worthy of her if I didn't feel that way. Lil Davey ain't worthy of much. There are so many problems in the world caused by sorry lil boys who never grow up and never get their life together.



I heard Dave's story, I know he's had a rough time. I know a lil bit about the bad things he's done in his life to deal with 'em. I understand that. We both been screwed over by people we thought we loved. We both got almost nuthin' goin' for us.



Where Dave falls short is apparently in his will. I'm one tough bastard to keep down. As screwed over as I've been as angry and crazy as it's made me I never resorted to drugs or any other escape. I was fortunate enough to find my way out of the situation and I work everyday to make myself and my situation a lil bit better.



Dave chose drugs and alcohol which while I understand it as self-medication, sometimes you gotta put down the bottle and pills and pick yourself up off the ground. All the drugs in the world won't make your life any better. In fact you wind up spiralin' down til you hit that rock bottom. A lotta people find death before they find the bottom of their pit.



Dave chose to be an asshole. I'll forgive his addictions. I'll forgive his lack of a chin. I'll forgive all the things I don't like about his personality or his clothes or his personal hygiene. What I won't forgive is a lack of manners. I won't forgive a lack of respect.



I might've forgiven it if it were against me. I won't forgive it against my friends. You're screwed if you think I'll forgive it against my girlfriend.



My darlin'. My princess. I love her God damn it. And you spit on her. I hold all women in the high regard. She is the pinnacle of that. She is as good as a woman can get to me. I love her brown eyes. I love her smile. I love our conversations. She's brilliant. She's stronger than she gives herself credit for. She is the woman I show my insecurities to. She shows me hers in turn. She's the one I dream with. She's the one I can count on. She's the one I find the most beautiful. She ain't perfect but she's perfect for me. She's the one.



No one spits on my girlfriend. No one pushes her. No one gets in her face. No one threatens her. No one embarrasses her family in front of the neighbors. Not Dave, not the Queen of England, not God, not Kurt Vonnegut. Nobody does it.



You'd be lucky to be welcomed in that house. You better be thankful these girls are willin' to be your friend. They made us breakfast that mornin'. They gave you a place to sleep. And you spit on that.

How disrespectful are you to do sumthin' like that? No class. No manners. What if somebody'd done that to your mother? Or your sister? Are your actions sumthin' they could be proud of? I wouldn't be. I hope you aren't.



Anybody can think what they want about my girlfriend but no one ever better disrespect her. I respect that everyone has their opinions and they don't have to agree with me. Any man worth half a damn already disagrees with me. No sense in bein' with a girl you don't think is your pinnacle.



No one spits on anyone else. No one puts their hands on a woman in a violent manner if I'm around. Doesn't even have to be my woman. I see you do it, bub, your ass is goin' down.

I hope you grow outta this asshole phase your goin' through Dave. I hope you get your shit together and learn how to act like a man. Then maybe you'll be worthy of a good woman. A good woman like the one I got.

It's easy enough. Just think about what you're doin' and make the best decision you can. Apologize for bein' dumb or makin' mistakes. Own up to your faults and do what you can to be better than you are. Then you are a real man.

Then you can say "I'm from Dallas!" and Dallas will actually be proud of you for it.