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Work Detail (Short Story-Fiction)

Posted by jeremiasx on May 17, 2012

I woke at six to the sound of sirens. Breakfast. What’s on the menu today? The same thing as every other day. A hard boiled egg and a piece of moldy toast. My first vision was the stained and decaying ceiling tiles above my rack. I get used to the scenery just like anyone else would in this situation. I have no choice.

A month ago I was living the good life with my family in my hometown. I had a good job, I had a car and a home. I played video games and visited friends. Sometimes we’d get drunk or high together. Listen to music. Simple stuff. One morning I woke up to a loud knock on the door. I could hear the loudspeakers in the street saying something about remaining in our homes. I think mine was the first door they knocked on, coincidentally or not. I’d said some abrasive things about the current regime on the Internet.

These days I don’t have to wonder what’s going to happen. They made the choices so much easier. There really aren’t any. I get up and eat a quick bite, hopefully food that isn’t going to make me sick. After chow we will line up in the courtyard for health inspections and work detail assignment. It’s always the same for me. I failed my aptitude tests and got stuck on shovel detail. We’re building a new light rail system. Someday people will ride on it and won’t even remember how it was built. They won’t hear the gunshots that ring out when a worker falls from exhaustion. No, they’ll be happy to have affordable and quick transportation to their work assignments. Everyone gets an assignment now, no one has to make a choice. Choices lead to disorder.

Last week I think I popped something in my spine. I asked about a doctor, but they said they can’t afford to treat camp workers like real citizens. Real citizens have demonstrated the patriotism and service that keeps our amazing country firing on all cylinders. Real citiizens understand the importance of keeping the economy going. All I could do in my ‘free life’ was sit around and write silly songs and poetry. There was no place for me in an industrious society.

The guards are passing out work gloves and shovels. When we first got here we lost about fifty people to blisters and the bullets that soon followed. I’m glad it’s not like that anymore. Now all I have to do is hide my chronic pain from the overseers and keep leveling the ground that will keep people moving on those “light” rails.

We head across the courtyard after roll-call into the cattle cars. Guards are screaming, dogs are snapping at our heels. An old man stumbles on his way into the car and is trampled underfoot. If you slow down, you die. No one wants to be that guy. Today wasn’t his day, I guess.

As I stepped up onto the high side of the cattle car I felt something give a little in my spine. Shit. This day isn’t starting out well. They say we’re increasing our production goal. The rail system isn’t on schedule. We’ve worked hard every day, and workers keep coming in, but just as many fall due to exhaustion and sickness. Is today my day?

A two hour ride to the jobsite over the highway isn’t bad, but we’re not on the highway. We’re trailblazing, man. We’re going where only the natives have gone before. Society has never stretched to this point in this country before. The rough and rugged road isn’t doing much for my sense of well-being. Pain shoots up and down my back and I don’t know if I’ll make it or not. Glancing around I see several have already given up hope and are sleeping on the metal floor. Some kids, some elderly. They won’t live to see tomorrow. So it goes.

We finally arrive at our assignment and I brace myself for the worst. When the overseers come in they usually come in kicking ass. The door slides open. More dogs snapping. The bitch is in charge today, I see. Who’s the bitch? Glad you asked.

The bitch is about thirty years old, she has blonde hair and blue eyes. She’s our medical supervisor and makes the determination on who lives or dies. That’s the truth of the fucking matter. She’s supposed to be watching out for us or giving medical attention, but I think the only medical attention she really administers around here is the terminal kind. She doesn’t take care of that herself. Armed guards do that. She just holds the clipboard and makes the final call.

We rush for the exit. I feel the head of a child squish a bit beneath my work boots. Do I have time to care about that? No..it’s just about survival. Remember, choices lead to chaos.

As we pile out orders are barked. We head to our assigned positions. They give us certain quotas on work performed. Workers get ‘units’ for work completed. If you get enough units you get a lunch. If you get more credits you get an actual break to eat the lunch. Get more than that, and you make all the workers look bad and are likely to be strangled to death in your rack . Crazy, huh?

I observe that the terrain we’re working with is particularly rocky. A bad omen for me. I press hard on the shovel in the hopes of finding purchase, or leverage. The tip of the shovel penetrates but I’ve hit a hard stone and the shockwave sends blinding pain up and down my arms, which circuits up into my back and suddenly I can’t feel my hands. I’m stunned for a moment.

A moment is all it takes. I hear a whistle blow, and the bitch is walking toward me, clipboard in hand. She asks me if I’m in too much pain to continue. I shake my head vigorously, ‘no’, but my body has betrayed me one final time. My muscles are twitching all around the injury site. She can see it through my shirt which is already soaked through with sweat and stuck to me.

“Guards, we have a patient in need of treatment. WORK DETAIL!! SEE!!  This is what happens when you don’t take care of yourself! Haven’t you learned yet? You MUST take care of yourselves! If you had done this in your lives before you wouldn’t be here for re-education and extra duties. When this man falls he represents the worst of what you are. Your weakness, your inability to give your all to the whole. Prognosis…unfit to work.”

I bow my head. I hear the racking of a machine gun bolt behind me. The birds are singing and shovels continue clicking merrily along.

Posted in Activism, America, Bizarre, Civil Rights, Conspiracy, Dissent, Economy, Fiction, Freedom, Freemasons, Human Rights, Journalism, Justice, Law, Law Enforcement, Liberty, Life, Money, Opinion, Politics, Prophecy, Protest, Resistance, Revelations, Revolution, Society, Tyranny, Uncategorized, Weird | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

The Fifth of November Part 3 (Short Story-Fiction)

Posted by jeremiasx on May 16, 2012

Standing in the half-lit shop I set the briefcase on the counter. Just a plain black case. The kind you’d probably find on sale at Office World for twenty bucks. The simple instruction to NOT open something makes a part of us nearly boil over with curiosity. Humans and cats are both like that. I wondered what I was supposed to do in the absence of further instruction. It almost seemed ridiculous that there would be clear-cut instructions regarding the briefcase and no mention of what to do with the suit. Put it on?

As I rolled that over in my mind a cell phone rang. I was instantly sure it wasn’t my phone, because my ringtone is not Metallica’s “The Four Horsemen.” The volume was all the way up and there was no doubt where it came from…the suit. I patted the coat pockets and found it after a couple skull-splitting riffs. Headbanger bullshit.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Reynolds, I see you’re right  on time. Are you enjoying your visit to New York? Have you fallen in love? Most people do, you know.”

I didn’t know what to say. The voice was the James Bond fellow from back out west, the limey terrorist.

“I can see you’re currently quite confused. Allow me to instruct you further. There is a dressing room to the right  of where you’re facing.”

They were watching me, even now. No real shocker there.

“Ok.” I didn’t have much else for the moment.

“Go into the dressing room and put the suit on. Don’t forget the socks and shoes, too. Don’t want you embarrassing yourself in corporate America wearing a pair of flame orange sandals, do we? Of course not.” He laughed and abruptly hung up.

I removed the suit pieces and the footwear and walked to the dressing room with the swinging door covered in random pieces of magazine slicks with scantily clad women in lingerie that probably wasn’t even available in this venue. Classier stuff. As I dressed I wondered if condemned men on death row felt much the same as they buttoned their final buttons and zipped their fly one last time, knowing those simple and mundane actions would never be taken again. My breathing was irregular and labored, as if I’d just finished two marathons. I know I’m only thirty, but is this a heart attack? No such luck.

The mirror on the inside of the door didn’t give me much to consider except the stark contrast between my appearance five minutes ago and now. I clean up pretty nice. Too bad no one will be impressed for long, not even my mother. The suit had weight beyond what I expected, physically and emotionally. I looked like I belonged in any corporate boardroom. The close-cropped haircut I was given against my will while still back on the West Coast which looked so out of sorts with my usual tie-dye or Rastafarian ensemble now fit the bill to a tee. I am corporate America.

I stepped back out into the shop and heard something thumping around in the back. Unable to resist any further, I gingerly crossed the sales floor and heard grunting sounds. The phone rang quickly. The four horsemen were calling again. I didn’t answer. I had to know.

A divider wall with a few more signs (these were probably part of the shop decor) which admonished customers not to do anything they would go to jail for in public corniced the regular shop area, and I realized exactly how deep and dark this place went. As I peaked around the wall my heart nearly stopped.  This was the video room. I didn’t have time or the inclination to check and see if there were titles I’d never browsed. It wasn’t the vast selection of smut that stopped me cold.

Blood was pooled around a bound and gagged middle-aged man. He was twitching and gurgling. A few flaps of skin on his neck were leaking the essence of his life on the floor. He was a goner.

This must have been the real store clerk. I’m not alone in here. Of course not…the nice man who gave Cajun homeless guy the dub spot was surely still here, and he was a vicious murderer. Oh my God. Why am I even surprised?

The phone stopped ringing, then rang again immediately.

“I’m sorry,” I answered, “I couldn’t help it.”

“OWEN. If you want to live five more minutes and don’t want to be held responsible for the deaths of your dear old mum and remaining siblings you will ABSOLUTELY DO WHAT THE FUCK I TELL YOU TO from this point forward!! When I call, YOU FUCKING ANSWER. Quit yanking about and leave us to clean up this unfortunate mess. He’s none of your concern. Furthermore, he was a pedobear. No great loss to the world.”

Obviously he wasn’t in the store with me or I would hear him off the phone as well as on it. Welcome to the network.

“A what? Ah..a what?” I was stammering and glancing nervously everywhere.

“A pedobear, a chomo, a child molesting kiddie porn swapping faggot. What kind of people do you think are drawn to his job? He deserved to die. We killed two birds with one stone, here, mate. We make the world a better place by all means necessary. Now, I want you to do something. Go back to the counter.”

“Ok.” It seemed ok except for the obvious fact that I was still locked in this horrible place with a bloody corpse and a hardened killer. I hate child molesters, and what if they were just lying? Hell, they probably were lying just to get me to calm down and go along with it but it didn’t really matter. I wasn’t holding any high cards.

“Take another look at the sexbot. Lift the back of her shirt. Your instrument is taped to her. This symphony requires your complete and utter cooperation and we expect to have it, unconditionally.”

I walked briskly back around the counter and lifted the camosole. Strapped to the realistically detailed doll was a pistol. It didn’t look like a real gun, though. Something was odd about it. As I pulled the duck tape away and held it in my hand I realized what was amiss. It was lighter than hell. Plastic or polymer of some sort. It wasn’t even the typical Tupperware combat piece that Glock was infamous for. Tapping my fingers along the barrel I couldn’t detect a single piece of metal.

“Yes, Owen..what you now hold is the pride and joy of Cer-tec industries. Only the most special, special folks get their hands on these beauties. It’s a composite carbon-fiber and ceramic handgun. Pop the clip out. Examine the craftsmanship of the weapon and the ammunition. Isn’t it fabulous?”

Unthrilled to participate a second further, but impressed nonetheless, I did as he asked. The entire affair was indeed completely metal free. Even the bullets and casings were made of the same strange looking stuff. It had an eerie greyish-blue hue, something like you’d see skinning a UFO or advanced stealth fighter. Immediately I understood the implication. They were going to make sure I made it past the metal detector. That left an important question.

“It’s amazing,” I murmured, “but if I’m going to use this to do your dirty work, what’s in the briefcase?”

“Life,” he replied, “is just full of surprises, my boy. Don’t ruin this one for yourself or for the city.”

Once again, the cat had my tongue and was raking it’s claws through my brain. Things were far more serious than they were before when I thought only the one percenters around the conference table were to be martyred to the will of these ultra-radicals. Now innocent people were going to die as well. Who knew how many? Then again, who says the bankers and politicians weren’t innocent to begin with? I’d always believed they were just sort of stuck in their mode and didn’t understand the full implications of their actions upon the world. Perhaps I was far more naive than I once thought.

I tucked the pistol into my waistband after familiarizing myself with the safety lever.

“Hold on there, Magnum P.I., you’ve been watching too much TV. Take off your suit coat and look at the liner in back. They may pat you down in addition to the metal detectors. We can’t be too careful, now, can we?”

I despised that he kept chatting me up like we were old pals, and worse yet he made it sound as if I was actually a willing part of the whole bloody affair. Stuck like Chuck, I did as he asked. I located the hidden pocket and velcro-ed seam and slipped the pistol inside a foamy compartment, along with the extra magazines my sadistic “Q” told me to fetch from under the doll’s armpits. Once packed in and on my back I realized it was specially made to meld together into something like a big, flat mushy spot which was nearly indistinguishable.

“Owen, I wouldn’t want you to run low of ammo. We’re going to be doing a LOT OF shooting today. Hahahahaahaaaa! Let’s get this party started!”

***-

Posted in Activism, Bizarre, CIA, Civil Rights, Conspiracy, Conspiracy Theories, Dissent, Fiction, Freedom, Journalism, Justice, Law, Law Enforcement, Life, New York, NYC, Patriotism, Politics, Random, Resistance, Revolution, Society, Terrorism, Uncategorized, Wall Street, War on Terror, Weird | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

The Fifth Of November, Pt. 1 (Short Story–Fiction)

Posted by jeremiasx on May 13, 2012

“What do you want from our collective?”

The teenage girl with purple and green hair asked me with the half-interest that Generation Y/Z has made infamous. I couldn’t tell if the hair was real or a wig, my vision still being blurry, but it was bobbed close and there were two long colored braids. She was probably still in high school. Sensory overload overwhelmed me after what seemed like hours without the benefit of sight or sound due to being hoodwinked with a modified balaclava mask. I vaguely recalled the ride across town in the trunk of a nondescript sedan that bore no badging or identifying characteristics of any kind. I’m pretty sure it was a hybrid of some kind because the motor cut in and out during the short journey through the city.

“I was told to contact you as soon as I got to Newark. I’m not even sure what group you represent. You could be with the assholes that kidnapped me back in Cali or even work for the government for all I know. I’m operating on nothing but blind faith here.”

I tried to get some kind of bearing on my current location. A cursory glance around didn’t provide me with much. Grey concrete walls with old rusty streaks that might have been blood complemented a cement floor with similar markings. It smelled dank but there was also an odor of recent disinfectant.

“Your caution is understandable, and we can appreciate that. You asked for this meeting, now what do you want with us?”

I sat a few moments without speaking, taking in the meaning and underlying meaning of everything she said. She didn’t seem to be the techno-punk type apart from the wild hair. She wore an expensive grey suit with a wide-collared blouse. A brand new laptop hummed quietly in front of her. A webcam on top was pointed across the table at me. Next to the computer and her purse was a small pistol. I’d guess a Walther PPK or something like that. My mom carried one just like it in her purse. Plenty deadly at close range, and since I was unarmed as agreed I wouldn’t be able to do much if she decided she didn’t trust me without ventilating me a few times first.

“Can I smoke in here?”

“Sure, go right ahead. Ash on the floor.”

I dug in my pockets and suddenly remembered having been thoroughly searched, groped in every unmentionable spot from shoulders to boots. My cigarettes and lighter were still in my right front pocket but I could feel the distinct absence of my cell phone in my left pocket and I was pretty sure they had taken my wallet. My ass met the chair a little harder than I was used to. A little padding never hurts, I learned that as a youngster in parochial school. My gym teacher swung a mean paddle, believe that. I pulled out the pack of Camels and popped my Zippo open with two fingers and in one smooth motion lit it by rolling the striker across the top of my thigh. An old habit. I’m a sucker for style, even at the cost of emphysema. Besides, in a few days I’d likely be deader than dirt.

I inhaled deeply, the rich smoke filling my lungs and chasing away the nicotine craving that the cigarette industry counts on for billions each year. I studied her reaction and her eyes. She never looked at the monitor even once to check her Facebook or email or whatever. They stayed fixed intently on me. The pistol on the table gave her a sense of security, but not enough for her to truly relax. Still yet, her air of professionalism outshone her obvious youth, and there was business to be done.

“I need your group to provide a distraction for the NYC cops in a few days. I’m not at liberty to discuss the operation, and have no details, so don’t bother asking.” I was pressed for time, and just wanted to get this over with.

“As if I care,” she retorted with an audible air of what seemed to be true apathy. Mercs are like that whether they fight battles for someone using a gun or computer code. It’s just a paycheck.

“I sense your trying to pull off the old ‘Swordfish’ routine, and while I honestly don’t give a fuck or not if it works out for you I damn sure hope that dead-drop you made was the only contact with our group you’ve attempted. We have no interest in swinging from the gallows with you, Mr. Reynolds, no matter how glorious you believe your cause to be.”

“No. You’ve got me wrong. I’m not even in this for my own sake or ‘glory’ or whatever. I’ve never seen you before and never want to see you again. I’ll be lucky if I don’t end up with a bullet in the back of my head by the time this is all over. This isn’t even my operation, I was pushed into it by…”

“Again, Mr. Reynolds, I truly DO NOT care. Tell us what you need us to do, and what your terms and method of payment will be.”

So I did.

***-

Remember, remember, the fifth of November…no problem there, buddy. Today is the fifth. I’m in New York City standing near Rockefeller Plaza watching people ice-skating and having the time of their lives. I will definitely die today.

I never imagined that I would get tangled up in a terrorist plot to overthrow the government. I’m not a fan of the rat bastards that screw us over on a daily basis but I’ve been a pacifist ever since I heard John Lennon’s epic masterpiece, “Imagine,” and watched the movie “Ghandi,” during an introduction to Political Science course my freshman year at Berkeley. I dropped out during my junior year and joined a nascent grassroots populist movement full-time. To hell with college, I didn’t need a degree to change the world. I’m the kind of guy that wears a lot of tie-dye and sandals, smokes a lot of pot, and likes to jump in the sack with as many hippie chicks as I can convince to do so at any given rave or music festival, preferably under the influence of mild or heavy psychedelics. Most days I hold a sign in front of a bank or lobby my local congressman.

It was during one of those music festivals that my life took a seriously unexpected turn just last week. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know a lot of people are going to die due to my actions whether I want them to or not. They’ve got my whole family and all my friends in the crosshairs, and I know they’re serious. Yesterday they killed my fourteen-year old sister, Sarah Jean, just to prove a point. It was staged to look like a random hit-and-run. I know for a fact it wasn’t.

***-

The sign at the end of the pavement read, “Mushroom Mountain Harvest Jam” and I knew I was finally about to participate in the most epic folk-rock festival this side of the Rockies. On the calendar it fell upon a full moon weekend just before Halloween, and attendance was estimated to be upward of twenty thousand folks. I figured by the line of cars and graffitied VW buses and RV’s that it was probably a good estimate. I usually show up a day or two early to set up my campsite and help my usual group of social misfits set up our group kitchen and art displays, but a busted radiator on my old Galaxie 500 kept me stuck in Santa Cruz for an extra day or two, and now I was suffering the consequences. It’s funny how even when you go to society’s fringes you still can’t escape traffic. I figured if I was going to be waiting a while I might as well get high. I pulled out my trusty “chillum” and sparked a bowl of some serious green I scored at the dispensary while waiting for the car to be fixed. I have back issues and anxiety, you see. It’s all legal here in Cali and good medicine in general…not to mention it sure as hell beats sitting in a line of cars for hours while sober. Fuck that.

The car ahead of me, an old 80s model Grand Marquis with more rust coloration than paint stopped just before the curve ahead leading down the hill to the gathering spot in the valley below and to my right. Twilight was coming on and the Sun peaked through the Sycamores and mountain pines with an orange and pink hue. Crickets stirred. I had noticed the Asian girl in the back seat kept looking back at me, but I thought nothing of it because most folks like my car. It’s cream-puff white and has a big psychedelic peace sign on the hood. Maybe she thought I was hot? It didn’t even occur to me that anything was wrong when all four doors opened and all the passengers jumped out with what seemed like maniacal purpose. I guessed it to be a “Chinese fire drill,” no offense to the aforementioned Asian delight.

It wasn’t until I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw people jumping out of the black conversion van behind me that I began to get the distinct feeling that something was definitely amiss. The fact that they were all wearing bandannas, sunglasses, and ball caps drove it home. For the first time in my life I was truly afraid. Not edgy, not paranoid, but completely and utterly terrified.

“Keep your hands on the wheel and don’t move!!”

The voice was female, perhaps the Asian girl, but all I cared about was the submachine gun pointed at my head through my window. I’m pretty sure I pissed my pants. My hands couldn’t have moved of their own volition even if my life required it. My head started pounding and the cool buzz turned into justified paranoia and the surreality of it all grew as my door was yanked open and I was gagged and dragged back to the sliding cargo door of the black van. They pushed me against the door long enough to tie a blindfold over my eyes and bind my hands and feet with zip-ties. It seemed to take less than a minute, if that, and I was unceremoniously tossed headlong into the darkness. I’m pretty sure I passed out after hitting my head on the interior wall of the vehicle.

***-

“WAKE UP, you hippie fucktard!”

The voice in the darkness sounded gruff and I distinctly got the impression that not only were we not at the festival, but that my life was about to change forever, and not in a good way. I was sitting in a hardback chair and the temperature was warmer than a late Fall evening. We were indoors somewhere. I couldn’t smell the forest. I thought I could smell the distinct odor of cannabis drying, which in other circumstances would have been quite welcome. My face was still covered but I discovered that my hands and feet were unbound. Still, I was hesitant to try to make a break for it. I didn’t even know where the hell I was. There could be guns pointed at me ready to cut me down if I budged a muscle. The probability of that seemed high.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“You’re going to achieve your dream, Owen. You don’t have the guts to do it of your own free will, but we’ve found a way to motivate you.” The voice was female, and slightly more pleasant than the first. It almost sounded familiar.

“Mr. Reynolds, you were not chosen at random. You’re going to be an instrument of change for the betterment of the world. You will set free the oppressed masses from the bonds of oppression and tyranny under which you’ve suffered your whole life. Soon you’ll be famous. Dead, but quite famous, indeed.” Shed-dule. This one was British, undoubtedly. I began to wonder if it was all some kind of elaborate prank.

“I don’t want to be fa-..” I was cut off by the sudden impact of something very hard across my jaw. Perhaps a rifle butt?

“You don’t have a choice!” No game. “If you don’t do exactly as we say, when we say, we’re going to kill your whole fucking family, every person you’ve ever called a friend..we’ll straight up kill your goldfish, dude, just for fucking spite.” The first, harsher voice again.

They explained to me that they had picked me nearly at random from a group that recently protested against a large federal banking institution. They liked my fervor and they thought my looks and physique would make me a perfect posterboy for their cause. I was blonde and had blue eyes. I was good looking and well-liked among my peers. In short, I was the kind of person that people would copycat for years to come, so they hoped. While I was passed out they even cut my hair to make me more appealing to a larger demographic. Shit. man, I loved my long hair.

Their objective was a conference of bankers and politicians (surprise!) as well as some unfortunate media personalities and movie stars that would be convened at a certain posh hotel in New York City on November 5th of this year. Only a week or so away. I was not informed of the specifics of exactly how I was going to kill them, and that made it even scarier. I would be flown (first class!) to Newark International on November 4th. First I was to provide a distraction using a group of hackers in New Jersey. Arrangement protocols to meet a contact within that group were explained to me, and I was not to forget even one minute detail. Next, I was to meet my “handler” in NYC on the morning of the fifth at Rockefeller Center. I was to wear certain articles of clothing that would identify me, namely a plain black ball cap and a pair of bright orange Crocs.

“You’ll be reimbursed for the hat and the Crocs when it’s all over,” the female voice assured me, “not that you’ll ever need money again.”

Suddenly I realized I did recognize the voice, and I even knew where from. It was the girl who gifted me a last-minute ticket to the Mushroom Mountain festival in exchange for my promise to pay it forward to another person someday. An anonymous “friend” from Craigslist who I’d only spoken to once by phone, and I remembered her voice. It didn’t even matter if I knew what she looked like. Nothing mattered anymore. I was screwed.

“One thing more, mate…just so you know, we’ve tapped your cell phone and will be monitoring your progress all the way there. If you try to turn the phone off or deviate one smidge from the schedule, we’ll kill you and everyone you love. No funny business, my boy.”

Again with the James Bond voice. It was official. I was stuck in the middle of the world’s worst movie. No popcorn, no 3-D glasses…certain death, the price of admission.

***-

Posted in Activism, Al Qaeda, America, Bizarre, Conspiracy, Conspiracy Theories, Dissent, Drugs, Economy, Fiction, Journalism, Law, Law Enforcement, Liberty, Life, Military, Money, Peace, Politics, Prophecy, Rainbow Family, Random, Resistance, Revolution, Sex, Society, Terrorism, Tyranny, Uncategorized, Wall Street, War, War on Drugs, War on Terror, Weird | Tagged: , | 2 Comments »

Occupying The Minds And Hearts Of The Police And Military

Posted by jeremiasx on May 12, 2012

I believe in the cause of peace. I know many soldiers, police, and security industry workers who believe in it as well. For most of them it’s a cause worth fighting for, and they do it everyday with honor and respect. Why then isn’t massive, continued peaceful resistance sufficient to topple the plutocratic oligarchy which is sucking the life from our country? Why can’t mere words or chants or demonstrations reach the minds and hearts of the people who are sworn to uphold our rights as citizens? Worse still, why do they continue to defend these monsters and their policies on a daily basis and even go to extreme measures to bully the People? I believe it’s all very intentional. In fact, it seems to me that at every turn we are being goaded into armed resistance by those in authority who wish to use those with the guts to stand up and fight (on both sides of the equation) as pawns in a game of cat-and-mouse between the Government and the People. They understand and have heeded the admonition that without a peaceful forum there will be armed conflict. This is why the Occupy and Tea Party movements have both been ridiculed and marginalized by the mainstream media and have been roughly ignored by the heads of state. The People have outperformed the Authority when it comes to peaceful conduct 99 times out of 100, but the media only reports bricked windows and government manufactured bomb plots. Interesting, huh?

The major problems with our system such as taxation without representation and money in politics (aka CORRUPTION) continue unabated, and the police and military continue to support these obvious injustices because they are well-funded by the bullies. They get the first turn at the trough.When is the last time you heard a policeman or soldier complain about difficulty obtaining medical services for themselves or family? When was the last time you heard one say they didn’t make enough to pay their rent? While they are arguably underpaid for their service to the public and willingness to die for their country/community, they are far better off than the majority of the working stiffs if you consider the perks and benefits their jobs come with. It will be VERY difficult to erode these pillars of support for the regime by peaceful means of persuasion. It can (and should) be done, but it’s not going to be easy.

We must find a way to wake the guardians of the gilded gates to their true ideals, and we must find a way to embolden them to take to the streets in solidarity with the middle and lower classes. It happened two days ago in London. Police there marched to protest against their inability to strike as well as austerity measures against their departments in the UK. Until those same cuts manifest in the US, it will be very difficult to convince these guys to cross the lines and join the common folks. That time may well be coming, but if our government has learned anything from other dictatorships historically they will continue to toss their dogs a bone.

Through the use of social media it could become more clear to those civil servants that the People are FED UP. We must continue to push our voices directly to them in whatever way we can, and with increasing frequency…the mainstream media will not. Do you have friends in the military and law enforcement? TALK TO THEM. Tell the how bad things are for the rest of us! Tell them of your frustration and even disgust with their overbearing authoritarian resistance to positive change. Eventually they will “get it” and stand with us, or at least stand aside and allow us to do what needs to be done. (Whatever that may be.)

Posted in Activism, America, Civil Rights, Democracy, Dissent, Economy, Freedom, Freemasons, Human Rights, Journalism, Justice, Law, Law Enforcement, Liberty, Life, Masons, Opinion, Patriotism, Peace, Politics, Poverty, Protest, Random, Resistance, Society, Tyranny, Uncategorized, War on Terror | Tagged: , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

OCCUPY THE REVOLUTION!!!

Posted by jeremiasx on May 9, 2012

It’s been a long time since we’ve last had a nice chat and visit, hasn’t it? Let’s talk about what we know so far. The worldwide economy is in the shitter, fascism is on the rise both home and abroad, and it’s 2012 and I STILL don’t have my flying car. Lying ass cartoons. I know it’s not an original joke but it does pretty well sum up the feeling I have when I see the myriad ways the world has not lived up to my expectations. Mankind was capable of anything, but his largest accomplishments to date are organized religions and sex droids. I’m not impressed.

For the last few years I’ve been moving quietly through both the ether and the physical realm. I kick up a little dust here and there but not enough to get imprisoned in a FEMA camp or killed by an unmanned drone..at least not yet.  I’ve been touring the Occupy sites around the country since the inception of the movement and I have some good news to report.

The Occupy movement has made several major accomplishments. It is waking people up worldwide, and the slumbering and apathetic masses have FINALLY begun to rise. As I’ve said for years, most people usually really only care about something when it affects them personally. My disdain for peoples’ willful ignorance aside, I’m quite proud of everyone who has taken to the streets or stormed the Internet in a show of solidarity for freedom and truth. Millions of people around the world are uniting to do what people were meant to do. People were never meant to be slaves. They were given choice from the beginning and from time to time they let some fat cats get the best of them but historically they can break free if they are willing to make some sacrifices.

Speaking of sacrifices, I’m living out of a medium-size ALICE pack and hitchhike around the country to different occupation sites to learn what I can from my compatriots and to spread whatever knowledge I can to help. I sleep outdoors usually but this American Spring has brought a more favorable climate for all our operations. I survive currently through the combined efforts of many, not just myself. We are all part of what it takes to make this happen. Occupy isn’t a paying job, and it must never become one. We have no leaders, we have no followers.

Every person is a sovereign individual free to make any choice they like. We largely prefer nonviolence in agreement with the mission statement of #OWS but understand that not everyone is able to maintain a stoic attitude in the face of direct oppression, brutality, and tyranny. That’s what we have seen across the movement. THE PEOPLE of Occupy are a class-act and have demonstrated time and time again, despite provocations and abuse, that we will not be pushed into ANY manner of action that hasn’t been reached by consensus.

Don’t get me wrong. I firmly believe there WILL BE a violent revolution in this country if things continue the way they are going, and I often wonder if that’s what the authorities really want. I would hate to see the nation I love ripped apart by bloody conflict, but I’d hate to see an oppressive fascist regime come to full fruition even worse. At some point we’ll have to make a choice. It won’t be long. JFK once said, “Those who make peaceful resistance impossible make violent revolution inevitable.” He was right on that one, at least.

A few important observations:

1. I would prefer a peaceful, political revolution to an armed conflict.

2. Armed revolution is ugly, bloody, and has numerous unknown outcomes including but not limited to: more tyranny and fascism (now “justified” in response), a government that is somehow worse, or even a foreign power taking control of our country if it were to be weakened too much by infighting.

3. Sometimes there is no other option left other than to fight. It’s difficult to reason with mass murderers, don’t ya think??

You’ll never have to second-guess what side I’m on. I love my country. I love our people and the freedoms we USED TO HAVE. Voting won’t get them back once they are lost. We must do more. Time is running out fast. Godspeed, and good night America.

Posted in Activism, Arkansas, Censorship, CIA, Civil Rights, Conspiracy, Democracy, Dissent, Economy, Education, Federal Reserve, Freemasons, Human Rights, Journalism, Justice, Law, Law Enforcement, Liberty, Life, Media, Military, Money, News, NYC, Opinion, Patriotism, Peace, Politics, Prophecy, Protest, Random, Republicans, Resistance, Revolution, Society, Stock Market, Technology, Terrorism, Tyranny, Uncategorized, Wall Street, War, War on Terror | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

Supreme Hypocrisy On The Steps Of The SCOTUS

Posted by jeremiasx on June 27, 2008

Let me preface this by saying I’m REALLY GLAD the 2nd amendment was preserved…HOWEVER…

Lo and behold!!! Is it yet ANOTHER case of selective law enforcement by DC Park Police and Metro Cops…hmm? I think so.

WIthin the last month these people were arrested for protesting on the steps of the Supreme Court…observe here…

MEANWHILE just yesterday THESE protesters were NOT arrested so far as I know…just pointing out the hypocrisy. Are the park police a bunch of scared sissies afraid to arrest pro-gun bubbas but if the folks are already assuming the position in orange jumpsuits they’re gung ho and ready to fill the paddy wagon?

I don’t think EITHER SETS OF PROTESTERS should be arrested. Free speech and power to the people, and especially right up to the steps of the Supreme Court, screw your free-speech zones…AND FINALLY… the DC park police and metro cops need to understand that WE THE PEOPLE see their selective enforcement as politically motivated and despicably biased. Why don’t you guys start acting with a bit of evenhandedness and integrity? It’d be a nice change.

Posted in Activism, America, Arkansas, Censorship, Civil Rights, Conspiracy, Democracy, Democrats, Dissent, Freedom, Freemasons, George Bush, GOP, Human Rights, Journalism, Justice, Law, Law Enforcement, Liberty, Life, Masons, News, Newton County, Opinion, Patriotism, Peace, Politics, Protest, Republicans, Resistance, Revolution, Society, Terrorism, Tyranny, Uncategorized, War, War on Terror | 1 Comment »

US General Says Bush Administration Guilty Of War Crimes

Posted by jeremiasx on June 19, 2008

The time has long passed for this nation to throw off these lawless criminals who have (at the least) violated human rights wantonly and brazenly in the face of nearly UNIVERSAL condemnation. It’s time for Americans to stand up for justice. These sons of bitches must be held accountable.

McClatchy Has The Scoop

WASHINGTON — The Army general who led the investigation into prisoner abuse at Iraq’s Abu Ghraib prison accused the Bush administration Wednesday of committing “war crimes” and called for those responsible to be held to account.

The remarks by Maj. Gen. Antonio Taguba, who’s now retired, came in a new report that found that U.S. personnel tortured and abused detainees in Iraq, Afghanistan and Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, using beatings, electrical shocks, sexual humiliation and other cruel practices.

“After years of disclosures by government investigations, media accounts and reports from human rights organizations, there is no longer any doubt as to whether the current administration has committed war crimes,” Taguba wrote. “The only question that remains to be answered is whether those who ordered the use of torture will be held to account.”

Posted in Al Qaeda, America, Arkansas, Cheney, CIA, Civil Rights, Conspiracy, Democracy, Democrats, Dissent, Freedom, Freemasons, George Bush, GOP, Human Rights, Impeachment, Iraq, Journalism, Justice, Law, Law Enforcement, Liberty, Life, Masons, Media, Medicine, Military, News, Newton County, Opinion, Patriotism, Peace, Politics, Protest, Random, Religion, Republicans, Resistance, Revolution, Ron Paul, Society, Terrorism, Tyranny, Uncategorized, US Attorneys, War, War on Terror, WTC | 2 Comments »

Newton County Jail Suicide Epidemic

Posted by jeremiasx on June 4, 2008

Folks I don’t normally have time to complain too much about local happenings, but I feel rather compelled to let the good folks of the world know that we’re having a LITTLE PROBLEM up here in Newton County with folks HANGING THEMSELVES in the jail up here. I’m not sure what to say except that I sure hope someone is taking the time to look into it DEEPLY.

Where’s the FBI? Where’s the Arkansas Bureau of Prisons? Where’s ANYONE at this point? WTF?

Why are these incidents an atrocity to reason?

The main reason is the sheer weight of negligence required to have a jail housing prisoners 24 hours a day without a full time jailer or even a properly working closed circuit TV system operational. The backup system (CCTV) failed in BOTH these cases. A dispatcher is not capable of monitoring an entire jail full of inmates remotely.

Do you see wrongful death lawsuits coming? I do.

Faith in the local civic leadership has been eroding steadily over the time I’ve lived up here due to several bad policies and choices made and not made concerning law enforcement and the jail. These events have caused the jumpstart of a campaign by a write-in candidate to overturn the incumbent Sheriff Keith Slape. The first-term sheriff recently suffered personal tragedy in the death of his daughter, leaving some locals to question his ability to effectively show enough leadership in dealing with this particular situation to maintain office after November. Time will tell.

*UPDATED 6/29*

New information supplied by a local law enforcement source proves the rumor that the second suicide was from hanging from a bunk bed was incorrect, as had been originally reported right here in error…it was actually a vent duct near the ceiling over the toilet. I hope that clears up a lot of confusion but maintain my position that both deaths were probably avoidable had better controls been in place and had the jail had a full time staff. How there couldn’t be one is a real mystery to me. Just seems absent minded and flat ass dangerous.

Posted in Activism, America, Arkansas, Bizarre, Civil Rights, Conspiracy, Dissent, Freemasons, Human Rights, Journalism, Justice, Law, Law Enforcement, Liberty, Life, Media, News, Newton County, Opinion, Politics, Random, Uncategorized, Unexplained | 3 Comments »

Cheney Sinks To Killing Hookers? WTF?

Posted by jeremiasx on May 4, 2008

LOL…this is really funny stuff…believable or NOT you gotta hear it from the Alex Jones radio show (NO, I do not listen to Alex Jones OR ANY OTHER radio personality regularly)…what caught my interest is the audio is supposedly the DC Madame saying she had no plans of hanging herself in a recent interview. All that aside, the more important question I’m asking myself…why would I even doubt that a guy who is guilty of war crimes and crimes against humanity would end up facing allegations over a dead hooker? Well…DICK…you are teh suck. That’s why.

One final note…in the pantheon of conspiracy theories of late this one is certainly the most amusing and plausible…it’s not hard to fake a suicide, just ask Hillary. Enjoy the vid.

Posted in 9/11, Activism, America, Arkansas, Censorship, Cheney, Comedy, Conspiracy, Conspiracy Theories, Dissent, Funny, George Bush, GOP, Impeachment, Journalism, Justice, Liberty, Life, Media, Money, News, NSA Wiretapping Scandal, Opinion, Patriotism, Peace, Politics, Protest, Psychology, Religion, Republicans, Resistance, Revolution, Ron Paul, Sex, Society, Uncategorized, Unexplained, War, War on Terror, Weird | 1 Comment »

What A Homeless College Kid Doesn’t Know About Homelessness

Posted by jeremiasx on February 18, 2008

Adam,

I recently read the article on your experiences “living on the street” in Charleston…and that you were able to (in the end, after some apparent difficulty) obtain a truck (no make or model specified, no mention of sales tax, registration, reinstating of insurance, you know…all the little things you have to pay to have the privilege to drive, and your background applies here, I’ll explain later concerning credit.) You launched yourself into an apartment, got a job…good for you. It’s still not a realistic scenario for most homeless people…and I’ll tell you WHY.

It really rattled me when I read your story zooming up the charts on Digg, and there are a lot of things I’d like to point out, and one of the main points is this…I don’t believe your situation does not represent the situation of the average “homeless person” in the country. It’s not even CLOSE for several reasons. I know you probably don’t make that claim on SOME levels, but the results of your study are skewed by your personal circumstances.

I believe it harms the cause of advocating for services for the homeless in general., which are WOEFULLY inadequate in most areas of the country, especially in the face of a looming (now ongoing) economic crisis…this is a topic we will see revisited before all is said and done, I assure you.

Here’s something to consider…your study begins with you leaving college and (I’m going to assume) basically being debt-free and without a negative credit history…and that matters. I don’t care that you kept your credit card and your degree in your pocket. Many DECENT jobs in this country are awarded or NOT awarded to people based on their credit history. I’m going to take a wild leap (without even doing an investigation on statistics) and say most homeless people have SHIT for credit. Guess what that means? Insurance rates for automobiles are affected, and sometimes insurance medical insurance is denied outright by the companies with the big names and reasonable premiums.

As the majority of homeless people lack medical coverage they rely heavily on ER visits that end up on the credit bureau and most of them are lucky to be over a 400 FICO if you count all the damage that happened when they “dropped out” of polite society. ER visits also don’t do much for the chronic conditions that many homeless are usually afflicted with..everything from alcoholism and related maladies to AIDS and chronic diabetes. Many are so far gone in their mental condition that there’s a better chance of their feet rotting off than a good ole preventive checkup a few years hence might have spared them, but I digress..

Your study is also fails to acknowledge the time and transportations constraints the real homeless face daily. Alcohol and addiction recovery, antisocial or borderline personality issues, along with the numerous other physical disorders…all those appointments and programs take TIME away from homeless people that isn’t spent directing them towards a life of self-sufficiency, so their ability to launch from a homeless shelter, as you probably already KNOW from your experience there, would not be like yours or mine. There are MANY things that the DESCENT into homelessness does to a person…on an emotional, physical, fiscal, and mental level…none of this happened in your case.

In your case you entered into the situation VOLUNTARILY. How many homeless people made a singular CHOICE (and I don’t mean choices in general) but a singular CHOICE to be homeless? You made that choice, Adam. That changes everything. I spent some time on the street checking things out myself…but I didn’t go to a nice southern city with a good bus system and plenty of transitional living centers just to the immediate southwest of the city and I didn’t stay in shelters for the most part. But anyhow, that’s my story, not yours…lol…I digress. I also looked at it up close and personal, and by singular choice. I guess I’m just not quite as optimistic about the situation the homeless face, Adam. Hell most cities don’t even have decent shelters and what shelters they have are full and/or unfit to stay in. Many times I chose to sleep outside instead just to avoid the diseases and desperation. I was literally turned away in Youngstown, Ohio at an SA (Salvation Army) because I didn’t want to commit to a monthlong drug and alcohol treatment program, and all I wanted was to get out of the cold for a night or two. Anyhow, experiences on the street can be pretty different for most people and I’m sure yours gave you some unique insights.

However, as to your “success” story from rags to riches in 70 days… no big deal. You started out with nothing to lose in the first place, the pressure wasn’t on, and you didn’t have to provide for your own way. It’s not hard to sit in the shelter and save $300 a week (at LEAST that, working for any moving company) to boost yourself into self-sufficiency in 70 days when you have no outside issues (from a broken life) to deal with, Adam. With even $200 a week saved income a person can be back in the saddle in a few months time. It’s not hard to labor for a minimum wage paycheck when you pay no rent or utilities or insurance or food (and in most shelters all those things are fortunately gratis) …and it’s not hard when you’re only doing it for YOURSELF (and not a spouse or children.)

Adam…I think your story sucks. It was a good idea, but you didn’t “go there” bro. Not even close. Also, it doesn’t help when people perpetuate false claims of equal opportunity and access in this country in general. Again…what a nice STORY.

-Jeremias X

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Posted in Activism, America, Democracy, Democrats, Dissent, Economy, Education, Finance, Freedom, GOP, Homeless, Human Rights, Journalism, Justice, Law, Law Enforcement, Liberty, Life, Media, Medicine, Money, Opinion, Outdoors, Peace, Politics, Poverty, Psychology, Rainbow Family, Random, Religion, Republicans, Society, Uncategorized, Weird | 4 Comments »