Consequences Will Follow The Chaos You Created

When the storm finally dies down, you look back at the chaos left and wonder if you will ever be able to make sense of it.  In the midst of the insanity your questions and concerns were constantly ignored.  You were not worth the breath required to respond.  The lack of human compassion and an unwillingness to see past the ignorance that blinds them, has left you searching for the strength needed to pick up the pieces crushed in their obliviousness.

You have tried to stop their idiocy for a year, shocked that their philistine way of thinking is unbreakable.  You have acquired the knowledge and skills needed to force the answers you seek from them.  The complaint you must file forces them to make a choice.  Answer for their actions legally, or keep their heads in the sand with the false sense of security that you are vacuous, with the brain function of a slug.  Consequences will always follow the choice.

 

The Old Man’s Destination

The old man stood under the street sign, His calloused dirty hand hitting the cold round metal knob over and over.  His blue eyes glaring up from under the faded blue and orange Denver Bronco hat, waiting impatiently for green to replace the red light that was keeping him from his destination across the busy intersection.
 
An off white smock hung low on his waist, the back dragging along the oil drenched pavement.  Words written in black marker down the middle…”WOLF”, “COYOTE”, “BEAR”….The meaning only known to him.  A pair of tall shiny black rain boots pulled up over his stained sagging jeans, looking out-of-place in the dry Mohave Desert.  A bright red cross covered the front of his dark shirt, a smaller one drawn on each sleeve barely noticeable in the fading rays of the sun.
 
His greasy black hair hung long and straight under the Bronco hat.  The over sized white headphones covered his ears, blocking out the world, the song only known to him.  As the light changed to green, his crystal blue eyes sparkled, the glaring look gone.  A smile appeared, a blaze of white teeth flashing across his leathery tan face.  Waving at the stopping cars, the music dancing his rubber rain boots all the way as he crossed to the other side…

Hit Delete,Butterfly’s Will Come…

Last Christmas my father told me about a wonderful invention called the delete button, and from my understanding it is on most keyboards.  Apparently if you get an e-mail that you believe will cause you distress, you can actually delete it before you open it and POOF, it never existed.  Time goes backwards, and the creator of this distressing e-mail is struck down by lightning, losing any recollection of why he even sat down at his computer.  Amazing!

I learned about this as my father’s brother was using me to try to develop his skills as a fictional writer.  I am all for creative writing, but writing fiction requires the ability to remember certain aspects of the story as you write.  If you do not have consistency, there is confusion and your creation will have no believability.  Especially if you are taking fact and twisting it into fiction.  If you cannot keep your story straight, you may want to rethink your plan.  Because when twisted fiction affects someone’s life outside your bubble of followers, it may not end like you want.

That being said, most of my family lives in a bubble. Too many of them like to hang out there, which results in brain damage from the lack of oxygen.  Common sense becomes non existent, and they lose the ability to understand that fact and fiction are not the same.  While fiction usually has some facts, the wanna be writer’s of my bubble family took fiction and passed it off as fact. This created such a frenzy, their demented crap leaked out of their bubble into the real world, my world.

When I asked my father to stop his brother from harassing me with his fictional e-mails, he put his beer down for a moment, and told me about the magical delete button. I could just touch that button, and butterfly’s would fill my room while his brother was hit by lightning.  All the e-mails that were sent to everyone saying I was a drug addict that steals from family, would go POOF, and rainbows would fill the sky.

I was astonished to find my delete button does not work like my father said, maybe because I do not live in a bubble.  I have since learned his retirement was getting boring, so he created some of his own fictional bullshit about me for my bubble family to enjoy.  They drank their Kool-Aid, and followed along like good little non-thinkers. Unfortunately for them, I do not like their Kool-Aide, it tastes funny. I do not follow anyone very well, and I could never live in a bubble full of bullshit.  However, I am just as stubborn and like him I do not back down easily when I think I am right.

People screw up, make their mistakes, and the universe has natural consequences that follow.  I have written e-mails that gave me a year long vacation from owning a gun.  A natural consequence I learned from.  I send the occasional e-mail into the world of my bubble family, letting them know I am not pleased about some of the things they have done lately.  It gets forwarded around the bubble and they talk about how horrible it is that I can type the word Fuc8, and that I need to move on and stop bringing it up.  They should know at this point, their acceptance is not really my concern, I know what kind of person I am.  Mistakes happened, natural consequences will follow, and life will go on.  As far as the irritating e-mails I send, they can hit their magic delete button, and watch the butterfly’s fill their bubble as my words fade away and go POOF!

Arizona’s Bullet Proof Paper

Hollow PointCreating one email to insure an order of protection will be placed on you is not that easy.  It has to be a detailed step by step run down of what you would like to do.  Involving the elderly will improve chances the judge will issue it against you.  However, if you really want to see your name after the word defendant, make sure the plaintiff writes fiction well.

With an OOP, they are going to arrest you first, ask questions later.  Which will probably stop most from contacting the plaintiff for the next year.  You do not want to spend the night sleeping on urine saturated cement, digesting a dry bologna sandwich and peanuts, with twenty other happy souls and one toilet .  If you are lucky enough to live in Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s county, you will get to enjoy your meal in a 120 degree sweat filled tent wearing pink. I do enjoy being outside, feeling the morning sun on my face, and I look good in pink.  However, I learned years ago that, I, in fact, do not like Joey’s bologna sandwiches.

You have to be careful, especially if you are not certain who is involved in wanting you to meet the sheriff. Situations will be created, enabling constant contact with the authorities.  While this can be stressful at first, most cops are understanding of the situation.  They have even heard the F-Bomb dropped once or twice, and probably will not freak out much if you slip. If they ask strange questions, remember they were probably told a story, so just answer the best you can.  Once enough police reports are written documenting you are not crazy, but the plaintiff may have some issues, the questions fade.

If you ask for a hearing, and it results in anything other than dismissed, Brady will apply.  Which means you are on the “Fed’s Gun Blacklist”  for the next year.  You probably want to re-frame from having a gun within your reach.  Notice, I said “a” gun, it does not have to be one acquired for yourself.  If you know it is around, according to Mr. Brady, it becomes yours.  You might ponder that idea into clarity, over the next five years in the Federal Pen, if it confuses you now.

I one hundred percent believe in the second amendment, and in Arizona’s gun laws.  If a criminal wants a gun, they are going to get one. Or five AK-47‘s with a thousand rounds, if that is their desire.  Regardless of the law, Mr. “What You Need”, is always standing on the corner, like a Walmart greeter to the black market.  Supply will never disappear as long as there is a demand.  Until society does a 180 and someone figures out why we shoot each other, I demand the right to defend myself.

Which brings me to the bullet proof paper that has me listed as a defendant.  The creative writer of fiction, the plaintiff,  is quoted as saying, ” I have no doubt, she would use a gun if she had one.”  I did have one, when I sent my OOP granting email, a nice Smith and Wesson 45 with a hair trigger.  The hollow point ammunition that filled the two clips may have even been illegal, I do not really know.  I can promise there is not a lot that would stop one of them once the trigger was pulled.  Certainly not a piece of paper.

I do respect the order, and the gun sold with me never breaking the Brady Law.  My beautiful Smith and Wesson will be replaced one day.  When it is, I will still continue to fight my battles with words, maybe even a F-bomb or two.  That being said, come at me with an intention to physically harm my family, it is a guarantee, I will use my right to replace F-Bombs with hollow points.

Day (427) – If

The Better Man Project ™

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of…

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Family Loyalty in The Traditional Fest Way

A little “FAMILY FEST” dialog between Spun and King Punk

What have we done, invasion of privacy what have we done,conversion of property what have we done???????????? maliciously made up the lie caused my SUV to be impounded.  Did I thank you for that one yet?

AB....MEANS... ABANDONED...

AB….MEANS… ABANDONED…

You keep asking why we are doing this, what is it we are doing? Umm, what have you done? Are you sure you are still unclear on that?

I’m trying to stay out of the mess between King Shit, and you.. I believe since you started the “mess”, I will call you the creator of FU8K FEST 2012 and yes I got copied on e-mails from King Shit and yes I copied him e-mails that you sent me…A warm up to sharing our journals, letters, medical records, etc.  Was there not enough mail coming to you, address to us, so you felt the urge to share other ways?  My apologies to everyone, I should have had more mail going there…

Did you enjoy touching everything? Too bad our personal sex tapes we made were in the storage you thought needed to be auctioned off to strangers.  Really though, your kindness overwhelms me at times. How can we ever pay you back for all you have done.

Just kidding about the sex tapes. They are actually DVD’s not tapes, and we picked them 2013-03-10 18.12.55(1)up on one of the several drugs runs we made to Vegas.  We thought you were going through a lot of trouble invading our privacy so we put them on the internet to make it easier for you.  Are we not the best or what?

So don’t e-mail me anymore, that’ll show me….What? Are you saying you no longer want anymore words of wisdom from me?  Now if you spent half the time you do on the computer trying how to get an O of P on King Shit finding out all about the laws about this and that, how you’ll show him a thing or to and that he’s just not dealing with some idiot that knows nothing about nothing…

…Sorry, I had to break up your really long thought… Yes my King Punk, that is exactly what I do all day….Your Peter Rabbit is the one who makes sure my son has a roof over his head and food in his stomach…I understand the Internet is a lost concept to you, to each their own.  However, learning to read what is on that order of protection concerning the words PROPERTY, and NECESSARY DOCUMENTS took two seconds.  I guess none of you can read those big words.

Like I told King Shit back in the day…have someone outside your cult read some shit once in awhile. Stop analyzing My Emails, My Welcome to FU8KFEST2012, My PRIVATE mail, thoughts, medical records, trying to find out “this and that” as you like to say…the big words will confuse you…

you might find time to get a job and find a place to live and put a decent roof over your son’s head and give him a normal life. No thanks, I have seen what “normal” people do all day.  Thinking up ways to invade our privacy, steal, lie, and finding even more ways to be the biggest hypocrites, not to mention assholes, is not something I want to teach my son.  You normal people should get a hobby to expand your horizons beyond me.

I know its not your fault, its mine, mrs.King Punk, King Shit,  You are correct up to that point, this mess is not my fault.  As far as the following two, Twerp and Twerpette, I am not certain yet, time will tell. However, I do not believe Peter rabbits,Tom thumbs ,Supermans, and all the other people in the world, had a freaking thing to do with this, you get all the credit. You should feel special..

Feel free to copy this to anyone, and tell us all…Thank you for your permission, I will feel free to do what I want with this…Just a quick FYI….Permission is something you did not have from us to touch our personal property.  Permission is something the Judge DID NOT give you classy people to touch, move, sell, give away, read, our property.  Nothing of ours, was, is, or will ever be abandoned…

The World of Peter Rabbit and Friends

WHAT HAVE WE DONE? Oh, I do not know…Maybe created and ran off the tracks the biggest FU*K FEST of your lives… 🙂

Phoenix Bad-Ass: Return of Boss

Boss was back in town, and this time it wasn’t on the D.L.

Walking into The Eagle, Boss waited for his eyes to adjust to the smokey darkness that filled the room. Coming into view was a shadow he knew well. Slouched over an empty 40oz of Old E was his old partner’s son, Zone.

“Hey Kid, you still drinking that shit water?” Boss said laughing as Zone recognized him.

The leather jacket was the same one he had worn for years.  Zone had never seen him in anything else besides Levis, a black t-shirt and that jacket. Even in the squelching 120 degree Arizona desert heat, that was it.  Zone smiled thinking about how pissed he was at Powell falling off the jet ski wearing it.

“Aww, there he is…What, this?  Zone replied looking down at the bottle. “This is the finest shit water you can get north of the border.  You want? ”

“What the hell.  It’s like what…?”  Boss answered looking at his watch, “9:45 in the morning.”

He pulled up the empty bar stool next to Zone. The cold 40oz sat sweating in front of him. It tasted like shit, exactly as he remembered it. He watched Zone take a drink. The image was just as it was twenty years ago when he had sat there with the kid’s father.

“Damn where you been? It’s been a minute since I saw you last.”  Zone asked.

“Shit kid, you how it is when you are on that DL.  You learned that at what, twelve?”  Boss said as he punch him in the arm.

“Hey watch it asshole.  Zone said laughing,  “I am not twelve any more. I can kick your ass while blindfolded, hung over and my hands tied behind my back.”

Boss did not doubt that. He had a kick no one else could touch. When his foot made contact it was like every once of anger and power in him came through at once, exploding on contact. Zone’s reputation preceded him, so it was not often Boss had seen it.

“Yeah, I guess you could kick my ass.”  Boss said looking towards the tiny girl standing by the Jagermeister  cooler.  “Hey sweetheart, can we get a couple of shots down here?”

Boss watched her turn, her eyes flashing sharp blue. It was like looking a negative of her mother. Everything was the same, except black where the blond was.

“What the hell did you just call me?  I ain’t your sweetheart, Asshole.” she paused recognizing the now silver hair and the old leather jacket,  “Boss…? Damn it is you, when did you get back in town?”

“Shit, girl I just rolled up. Damn,  you look good! Wanna take a run up north? My bike is outside.” Boss asked, with a grin.

She could feel her face get hot, “Shut the hell up Boss. Your older than my daddy.”
“I know girl, I know… but in another life time..”

He said, winking at her as she handed him the shot.

The cold went down smooth and fast.  Setting the glass down his focus went back to Zone.

“Speaking of your pops,  where the hell is that asshole?”