My first creation, I call it "Blew the Big One"

February 1, 2000

Miss Muffet; Communist Propaganda

If someone would read between the lines of the child fable of "Miss Muffet" and find the true meaning, this story would be forbidden. The spider in the story represents Western society and Miss Muffet is the dedicated communist comrade. In this subliminal communist manifesto, communism is the supreme form of government. It resides completely independent of the West in an innocent, peaceful state, sitting on a tuffet for exaggeration. Suddenly, there is a black, diseased spider that infects this wonderful Lenin-Marxist world. This greedy, class-based, free market creature pries on red Miss Muffet in his imperialistic campaign to enslave the world to the private industries. The spider knocks down her iron curtain, overthrows her friendly governments and uses his overwhelming nuclear arsenal to threaten Miss Muffet in his Cold War descent across Europe. Miss Muffet, surprised by the extreme magnitude of this democratic subversion, has no choice but to flee from the overwhelming armies of selfish individualism and fascism as she did before during the Cuban Missile Crisis. But this spider should heed warning, because the system of capitalism is destined to fall and the spider will be caught up in it's own web of lies. This story shows how important it is to check child literature for foreign subversion.

March 29, 2000

Perhaps Celebrities are not so Wonderful

The spread of sexually transmitted diseases has always been a problem, but now it is a categorical pandemic. In no other era of history have there been so many people living together so densely. There have been repeated efforts to stop this plague of sexually transmitted diseases (STDs) by medicine, contraception, and abstinence. Now, at the beginning of the twenty-first century, sex-related diseases continue to run rampant because of the massive hypocrisy of the entertainment industry. It should be made clear that the intention of this document is not to be prudish or conservative but to reduce the quantity of procreative green lights for the mentally malleable. The undermining of legitimate labors resisting the microscopic menace for capital exploitation has reached an all-time plateau and will be closely examined in Christina Aguileras vice filled hymn of sexual innuendoes Genie in A bottle as well as the insipid, flaming, male chauvinistic box office hit The World is Not Enough.
Dating back to the era of free love and Bob Hope, the James Bond infinite-logy has managed to persevere like Cubans across the Gulf of Mexico. On the other hand, teen idol-ridden, pointless, sex saturated, popular music is a more recent innovation. Both, however, are loaded with lecherous messages and images of Americas latest youthful pastime. Neither addresses the fact that nave spectators and amateur thespians will comprise the twenty million victims of venereal diseases next year.
Carefully analyzing the actual content of these distracting compositions will reveal a powerful and consistent underlying theme: sex. Actual lyrics from Ms. Aguileras song contain: My bodys saying lets go you gotten rub me the right way, and One more dance and then we are good to go. Meanwhile, in the Bond film the conclusion provides pseudo-catharsis in the magnificent words of Pierce Brosnan: I thought Christmas only comes once a year. The term comes has an atypical connotation when written here. What listeners and viewers will not hear is the miracle of cervical cancer, liver failure, vaginal engorgement blisters discharging streams of yellow purulence and many other forms of pathogenic penance. Like an infant seal in a hailstorm, they are not a pleasing sight. An article in Better Homes and Gardens stated that in the last ten years the number of infected teens has quadrupled.
The leading money generators in the subjects presented here both have obtained their positions based on questionable ability and unmistakably on libidinous charisma. As far as salary is concerned, the actors pay less tribute to their producers than musicians and thus retain more of their sadistic plunder. Nevertheless, regardless of how much money movies and music gross, it will never match its price in human tribulation and financial deficit. To provide an insight as to how much capital is invested in reversing the cardinal decisions of lascivious rabbits, here are some statistics: according to the ASHA $208 million is spent annually on the herpes virus, $1.622 billion on the Human Papillona virus and 6.422 is spent on all viral sexually related diseases together.
Both of these abundant sources of lewd proclamations have the same dire consequences. The decade that gave rise to media-endorsed copulation also enhanced the abundance of sex-related illnesses. While most intelligent people have acknowledged that sex and success are like motor boats and sea manatees, others continue their mistaken predisposition. According to same article in Better Homes and Gardens 69 percent of people do not care about contracting herpes and a quarter of all sexually active teens will contract a sexually transmitted disease.
Americas obsession with the wealthy is like the Seventh Cavalry under the leadership of Custer. Eventually, or perhaps already, popular culture will dictate how people treat their bodies and each other. The people most vulnerable to influence constitute the majority of the population: the ignoramuses. None realize they have the same chance of survival as a dog in a Chinese streak house. Where are their parents? They are talking on their cellular phones while driving their magnum sports utility vehicles to the mall to buy a new satellite dish. It is a losing battle and only a popular revelation will resolve this growing problem, but does not generate money.

February 28, 2000

How to Survive a Nuclear Holocaust

When someone experiences his or her first encounter with a hydrogen bomb, the stress can be overwhelming. The future may seem bleak and grim; after all, carcinogens, radioactive gamma particles and nuclear winter are constantly bombarding the body in a harmonic symphony of death. One will, in most likelihood, become, at minimum, bald, sterile and hemorrhage-ridden, as well as have some degree of neurological, cardiovascular and respiratory ineptness during this unpleasant rendezvous with multiple-warhead-launched, thermonuclear, intercontinental ballistic missiles. However, with some helpful tidbits, one can turn that profusely festering, bleeding, tumor and goiter covered frown, upside-down.
Unfortunately, luck plays a critical role in determining the magnitude of this inconvenience known as the "apocalypse". For instance, perhaps the bomb might not be exploded at its optimum detonation height. Deplorably, reading any further is not necessary if one is within fourteen miles of a ten-megaton thermonuclear warhead. It will be relatively painless, or so has been speculated. Nevertheless, from the onset of hearing via the mass media about inbound vehicles of death, it should be made first priority to avoid exposing any part of the body to the intense ultraviolet and infrared that will flake off ones skin like burnt leaves in addition to evaporating flesh. Next, care should be given to avoid the heat and firestorm that will cause suffocation as well as inconceivably burning mortal wounds. An underground bunker is highly is highly recommended.
Life in the bunker can be quite dull. This attitude can be quickly relinquished if one considers the millions of ostentatiously less fortunate souls outside who are subsiding analogously to puppies on an interstate highway. Inside the protective asylum, consume items as necessary in this order: fresh plant matter, perishable goods, pets or slow moving animals, canned food, other bunker mates (alternating between oldest and youngest for a varied diet), sawdust and then self-cannibalism starting with paired expendable organs. It would be most prudent if one has not been exposed to radioactivity, not to consume anything that has, including other bunker mates. The last way one would want to perish would be stomach lesions, chronic accelerated leukemia, unabated anemia, a stroke induced by massive brain tumors and other various system failures. Some of these afflictions can be so disparaging that one might yearn for the more traditional death granted by Tabun, Sarin, Butolin, Anthrax, Brucellosis or good old Zyclon B. If less than two hundred roentgen absorbed doses (RADs) have been absorbed, i.e. one still has hair; there is only a mere twenty-five percent mortality rate.
After escaping from the subterranean sanctuary, one will undergo transition to a world full of hopelessness and scare material goods. The first can be as much of a blessing as the later can be a handicap. Anarchy tends to be prevalent in a destroyed industrialized civilization because withdraw from material conveniences can be similar to a nicotine addiction. This is where entrepreneurship is vital. It is essential that the survivor secures and controls the access to existing manufactured goods, especially necessities. These can be procured from topples stores and former commercial districts. Due to extremely high demand rates, laws of economics will dictate that the quantity of goods hoarded directly equates to political power. Sometimes peaceful means will be insufficient to maintain the lavish life style that one might desire and hostility will necessitate carnage. Popular, effective, and most important, inexpensive methods include dismemberment, maiming, disembowelment and drawing and quartering. When dispatching opponents, keep in mind that public demonstrations have greater marginal and lasting effects than isolated executions. The hopelessness of the weakened, distraught minds can easily be conformed into minions via propaganda and demonstrations of power. If at this point one has not sensed fanatical nausea, disgorging internal entrails, habitual diarrhea, livid epidermal blemishes or inveterate fevers, then things are looking up the post-cataclysmic world.

Deed to Spiritual Origin

I, X_____________________, herby forfeit my ethereal soul for eternity as well as surrender all, but not limited to, heavenly privileges under the circumstance that such a location exists. This everlasting contract entitles one X______________________ unlimited use and unrestricted access and rights to exploit and bequeath to any all facets of the soul being exchanged. The utilization, regardless of a benevolent or sadistic disposition, is to be ad nauseam in all modes.

Witness X___________________

Soul Vender X___________________
(To be valid all signatures must be composed of blood)

Below is the same document in Microsoft Word format

deed_to_spiritual_origin.doc

January 29, 2002

The Joy of Killing People

Sometimes when people walk in proximity of room 102, they hear very loud gunfire in conjunction with an insane laugher and grin. At first they are relieved to see it is merely a game, but then they realize the euphoria I am receiving from the demise of another human life. In Grand Theft Auto 3, I pull people from their vehicles without the usual purpose of stealing their automobile, but in fact I do it just to beat them with a pipe. I find high vantage points and shoot people with sniper rifles simply for the delightful bliss of watching their jugular arteries spray perfectly geometric parabolas of blood. I absolutely relish throwing grenades into crowds of people just to watch parts of their bodies accelerate at different speeds. There is nothing quite reminiscent to lighting people on fire, watching them run franticly until they collapse in agony. The best part of all is when the paramedics come to resuscitate my exertions of fine art; just for me to beat them into submission with the pipe too. Why? Because its funny. All these fictitious people are surely guilty of something, whining if nothing else. But what I feel is most important aspect about killing random people is that it is done for the right reasons. I dont do it to fit in; not for money; not to portrait an image to people around me. No, I do it for the noblest of all reasons. I slaughter the populace purely for the love and joy of doing it. I hope all will share in my dream, and all will kill for nothing but the sweet warm feeling they get deep down, and be true to themselves.