Archive for the NSFW Category

Once in a Blue Agave Moon: “…but wait!…there’s More!

Posted in Liason Between Parties, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, NSFW, Once in a Blue Agave Moon on May 13, 2017 by dreamlanddancing

Chapter Seventeen, Part Two

(Jed):

“I have to admit that I’ve lost track of how many languages Amy speaks, but she usually manages to communicate or at least listen to make sure they’re not talking shit about us right under our noses.”

(Leigh-Ann):

”More often than not, somebody involved on the other end tries to ‘re-negotiate’ the deal at the last minute, but you won’t find a better haggler than her; in fact I’ve even seen her raise the price just to teach them a lesson for trying, with all of us ready to walk on her cue. But here’s the really beautiful part…she can argue any angle from either direction, and make it sound like the only option to take.”

“It works like this: she knows how to play the egos of any man she deals with because she always gives them a way to feel good about themselves when they do business with her because she never lets her real intelligence show unless she absolutely has to; but even if she has to put them in their place, she gives them some kind of out so they can pretend to have won by doing what she wanted in the first place.”

“She says that all those psychology courses gave her insights into channelling talents she already possessed.”

“All I can say is that it’s a gift she has; twenty years ago we weren’t exactly the best of friends, but we’ve both learned a great deal since then, and have developed a mutual admiration and I can tell you right here and now that to observe her working a deal is a thing of beauty.” 

“Rebel also brings her tattoo gear along. I don’t think we have ever made a trip out that somebody hasn’t wanted to trade something extremely valuable or desirable for one of her works of art. It’s getting so that people look out for us just to meet her. She has  a growing cult of fans that keep driving up the value of her work.”

“She is more or less considered the visionary artist of the Apocalypse. People are again starting to believe that certain talismans and symbols impart invulnerability to their wearers; hell, she won’t ever consider doing a tat unless she looks into their soul first; she calls it scrying…learned it from her grandmother.”

“But she picked up Wicca after she left Virginia; after her grandma died she started studying Shamanism from the local Cherokee, Algonquin and Chickahominy tribes.”

“There are places we go where we get safe passage just because she is with us. I’m not saying she doesn’t have some kind of miraculous talent, but  the worse that times get, the more that people turn to the Meta realm for protection.”

“Taken on balance, we are something between Santa Claus, a carnival, a traveling medicine, monster truck and gun show, and a flea market, except we are very scrupulous about making sure that everyone feels they got a fair trade for whatever they want, which is usually something nobody else has, or better quality than what is available elsewhere.”

(Rebel):

“We also give a lot of shit away to the locals. If we shoot a wild hog or a deer, we cook for everyone who shows up until it’s all gone. Our barbecues are famous. We also fix fish, ‘gator or frogs when they are available, as well as cabbage palm, which is called ‘swamp cabbage’ here in the Southeast.”

“We like to bring the party with us wherever we go, but the goodwill it generates is something we kind of stumbled onto while we were out on the road.”

 (Jed):

“Nobody with even a little bit of good sense wants to rob or harm us…and if anybody tried, the locals everywhere would come to our rescue (if we actually needed it) because we are loved, needed AND feared.”

(Rebel):

“In fact, about six months ago, this drunk asshole tried to put his hands all over Amy; it was almost sundown…called her a slut and ripped her shirt off…really big guy, a truly intimidating bully…with a very bad rep in that area…got used to getting his way with the locals.”

“He jumped her from behind, but before she could even get up, people came out of nowhere and beat the living shit out of him. They hog-tied him and said they were going to lynch him right then and there.”

“I sure didn’t have any problem wth that; if they hadn’t grabbed him first I would have taken him out right then and there, but Jed stepped up and told them all to stop…the guy was already beat so bad that I doubted that he could have survived anyway, but Jed not only talked them out of it, but then he had Leigh-Ann treat his injuries, set his broken bones and even gave him antibiotics.”

“I thought Jed was nuts at first; called him a pussy for not standing up for Amy…(not in front of anyone else of course) but I didn’t see the logic in doing that. I thought it would hurt our rep, but the guy also had a family; wife and kids, parents, brothers and sisters.”

“So Jed starts talking to what was for all intents and purposes a very self-righteous lynch-mob. The guy was still unconscious and bleeding very badly. Jed thanked them all for standing up to this guy that had intimidated them all for years…turns out he used to be the sheriff in fact…he praised them for their courage, but then he said ‘look…you proved that you don’t have to fear him anymore, but if you kill him, you better kill his whole family right then and there, ‘cause they will want revenge.’ Then he said mercy is a luxury of the powerful and the wise, and how justice is not compromised by kindness, so give him just one more chance to see the error of his ways.”

“But then Jed added that if he steps out of line just one more time, take out his whole family…even the kids, and if they think they can’t handle it, get on the radio and let him know because we will personally come back and do it ourselves…no mercy, no prisoners, no survivors, and zero possibility for revenge.”

“We stayed on until he was well enough to understand we meant business, and made sure his whole family knew the consequences if they didn’t all behave. His parents were elderly, and embarrassed by him because they already knew he was a cruel piece of shit. They were old-fashioned Southern Baptists, so Jed knew just how to  appeal to their Christian values, and the rest of the family was just glad to still be alive.”

“Now every time we go back there, the locals all come to Jed for advice, like he was fuckin’ Solomon or something, but that story has made the rounds all  over Florida, so most people know not to fuck with us,”

“A few have tried…but….(Jed’s voice trails off as he stares at Chiana.)

(Leigh-Ann smiles slightly, looks down and shakes her head, sighs, and resumes control):

“Rebel even does a full-body armor tattoo that involves having the subjects allow themselves to be bitten by a rattlesnake before she soul-gazes into their eyes in a sweat lodge.

“Apparently, it’s part of an Apache warrior’s ritual with just a touch of Yakuza and a dash of VooDoo.”

“She’s become the closest equivalent  to a rock star that these times have produced…so far…except for the ArchAngels, who were already famous.”

Elliott and Chiana exchanged glances at the mention of the ArchAngels; they had become fans of the band before the Armageddon Virus hit the reset button on all Western Civilization up to that point.

(Elliott):

“The ArchAngels!…are they still around?”…I mean, after the shit hit the fan, that was pretty much the end of mass media, I thought.”

(Leigh-Ann just laughed as she shook her head, smiling and wetting her lips with her tongue as she rolled her eyes.):

“Well, yes, as far as national sales of just about anything like that, I’d say you were right, but…but just stop to consider that where they live, they are the local talent…well, there’s a lot more to that story to be covered later. I didn’t mean to take us so far off topic just yet.”  There was a glimmer of a sly smile as she re-directed the conversation back to her original destination.

 

Chazz Vincent

05/13/2017

 

In My Perfect World

Posted in Crazy Zen Wisdom, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Observations of a Recovering Buddhist on February 27, 2017 by dreamlanddancing

 

If priests had any idea whatsoever about useful or reasonable counseling of their parishioners regarding real life advice, we might anticipate a scenario such as this:

(Interior single-lens over-the shoulder shot of a penitent inside a confessional booth; only the silhouette of the confessor is seen as lit by the dim image of the priest as seen through the ornate screen separating the two.)

“Father, forgive me. I cannot stop sinning; I masturbate at least a dozen times a day. It’s all I can think about, even at work. cold showers, prayer and meditation, even imagining the Mother Superior naked…which is not an attractive image at all…”

“Yikes! You can say that again!…no…come to think about it, please don’t…I have to eat lunch in an hour.”

“Nothing seems to work. It takes up all my time, energy, imagination, and I spend almost all my money on internet porn….

What shall be my penitence?”

A conspicuous silence follows as the priest strokes his short, neatly trimmed beard.

“Hmmmm…I know exactly what is needed here. I am going to give you one hundred dollars from the poor box. I want you to take it and go down to the docks where the hookers stand.”

“You will find a young woman there named Erin O’Clogherty; you can’t miss her…she is quite beautiful. She has a gorgeous head of chestnut hair, fine alabaster skin and jade-green eyes.  You may even recognize her; she sings regularly in our choir.”

“Go to no one else, even wait for her if she is not there when you arrive…do you understand?”

“Yes Father, but what should I do?”

“Well, first of all pay careful attention to what I am telling you, and stop touching yourself…you are going to need all your strength for this.”

“Yes Father.”

“Offer her the hundred dollars to go out with you for dinner and a movie.”

“I want you to go to Marino’s that Italian restaurant about six blocks from here. Their family is in our parish, and they have fallen on hard times despite their excellent cuisine…I’m afraid it’s because of the neighborhood; they’ve lived here for three generations and they don’t want to leave, but that’s another matter….”

“They will appreciate your business, and tell them I sent you. They will understand; Mario will probably give you a wink or two, but trust me, you will not be disappointed. Tip them very generously…this part will all come out of your pocket, by the way; it’s part of your penitence and you can afford it considering what you pay for internet pornography.”

Are you paying attention?”

“Yes Father.”

“After dinner, I want you to walk her to the movie theater around the corner. It doesn’t matter what’s playing, I want you to go to that theater only.”

“Throughout dinner, and after the movie, be sure to compliment her for how lovely she looks, but don’t go on about it in a salacious way…just notice her for who she truly is.”

“Listen to every word she says and engage her in conversation, but don’t try to impress her with what you have to say; If you two were dancing, I would instruct you to let her lead. She has a sharp wit and an imaginative sense of humor, so it won’t be difficult.”

“Offer to drive her home. She has to use a baby-sitter to watch her three young children, and she has no one else ever since her abusive alcoholic husband abandoned her to run off to Miami with the neighbor’s wife, which taken on balance was probably a blessing for both families, because Molly was quite the tramp, and broke her poor husband’s heart as well.”

“Walk her up to the house. I am quite sure if you mind your manners, she will invite you in; don’t worry, the children will already be asleep.”

“I can guarantee you will not be disappointed, so see to it that she is not either. Her emotional and physical needs should come first…if you’ll pardon the pun.” 

“Is that my penance, Father?…I am not sure that I understand…”

“Well, in case it wasn’t obvious, all of the parties involved…even the family that owns the theater are members of this parish, and each has the ability to help the others.”

“The Marinos need the business, and dinner will be a proper way to begin the evening; Erin needs not just the money, but the validation of her worth as a human being who is valued for more than just her body…and YOU definitely need to get out more often!”

 

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

02/27/2017

And Now for Something Completely Different…

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Erotica, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone on February 18, 2017 by dreamlanddancing

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This is a copy of an engraving I purchased at a sidewalk art show on the Jersey shore in the summer of 1971.

It is an unsigned print by an author named Hans Bellmer, a German Surrealist/Dada/Erotic artist of exceptional talent.

It is entitled Madame Eduarda. At the time I bought it, I had no idea of who he was or the significance of his works.

I thought I would share it with our readers; If it appeals to you, I would highly recommend looking him up on the internet. He was incredibly prolific, and there are many images of his works there.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

 

 

 

Favorites #5

Posted in Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Erotic Poetry, Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Poetry, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone on May 14, 2016 by dreamlanddancing
Our Seventy-Two Hour Honeymoon
Elope with me for a weekend
together at my villa
in Dreamland,
built on the grounds
of an abandoned test range
for nuclear sex toys,
dangerous dildos,
poison plastic peckers from China,
toxic-waste jellies
and flammable lube.
(…don’t worry, it’s safe now…
the Night Porter told me so….)
Besides,
who wants to live forever?
We can consort in feigned anonymity
like secret agents
in a room so dank with the scent
of our co-minglings
that if it could rain indoors
we’d be drenched
in a spooge monsoon.
Be my bride on Friday,
my lover on Saturday,
my Slave-girl Sunday morning
my Mistress in the afternoon.
I’ll sit on a footstool
at the end of a giant bed
as you sit there naked
on a great silver tray,
like a glorious helping of wedding cake
in a banquet hall
while I stick my tongue
between the layers
to lick out the icing
‘til my face is covered
in frosting
and you are but a puddle
of satisfaction
reflecting the Moon.
Run away with me for the weekend.
We can visit historic Key West
as seen from the inside
of a forty-dollar room.
We’ll drink rum and tequila
straight from the bottle
like smugglers
and pose for each other,
taking
pornographic pictures,
brandishing guns and knives,
wearing bandoleers
(maybe even take a hostage or two…)
We can howl like coyotes
in love with the Moon,
then blame it all on the peyote,
or maybe the ‘shrooms….
Where we will be going,
there is no room service,
leaving us
to service each other
at will.
Anything is possible at Hotel Dreamland.
I have a suite of rooms
reserved there always
and the doorman
already knows your face,
but not your name.
We can paint on the walls
like primitives
sharing stories and visions
and Satsang
and the smoke shall carry our words
straight to Heaven,
so that there shall be no lies between us.
Cum with me to Dreamland
for our honeymoon weekend.
Marry me for one weekend,
Three days of one body
one mind,
no guilt, no shame, no sin,
and no fear.
No expectations,
no disappointments.
We’ll divorce on Monday
(‘til next time.)
The Villa at Dreamland
is always right here.
It shall be my honor
to serve at your pleasure.
I’ll leave the light on
to await your return.

Once in a Blue Agave Moon Chapter three: Diversity

Posted in adversity, Collaboration, NSFW, Once in a Blue Agave Moon on April 2, 2016 by dreamlanddancing

Diversity is a critical component in the evolution of anything.
So is adversity.
Without adversity from within or without the species or subset, there would be no provocation for evolutionary processes to be instigated.
External threats or hardships winnow and cull the weak from the herd.
The strong survive and thrive. The weak become one with the food chain.
Natural selection promotes incrimental improvements in the species in order to better adapt to its microcosm.
The strength of adversity is much like an alloy of a metal for improved tensile strength, shear strength, hardness, density or weight.
In a society, common purspose and mutual support provides flexibility, adaptive abilty, and resilience to external threats when there is cooperation amongst those diverse members.
On the other hand, from a purely Machiavenian standpoint, when one group opresses another group, there is potential for strengthening the opressed group, although it produces a degree of factionalism and tension or stressors to the group as a whole.
There is nothing inherently Humanitarian about evolution.
As the civilization of a society develops, It is more capable of sustaining and caring for the mentally and physically infirm.
As long as a society is wealthy enough and affluent enough it can easily support and nurture and portion of its population that is not capable of caring for themselves for any variety of reasons.
As long as someone is willing to pay someone else to care for these unfortunates, others who provide the care will make a living out of it, and the prosperity of the entire group is enhanced.
It takes a very enlightened, tolerant affluent and altruistic society to develop a culture that is inclined to care for all of its citizens humanely.
It would be easy to make the incorrect assumption that the members at the colony were a homogeneous group.
The stereotypical generalization of the ultra right-wing, violent, Christian, alcoholic, heavily-armed, home-schooled, racist Florida redneck comes to mind when most people think about hunting in the Everglades. Fifty years ago, that notion might have had a little more validity, but Florida is more of a melting pot than most other areas of the United States, (unless of course, you are a Seminole or Miccosukee Indian).
Most of Florida is a mixture of a space-age frontier town, Disney World, a smuggler’s paradise and tourist trap where every imaginable ethnicity and social strata rub elbows on a daily basis.
In less than an hour you can drive from the center of almost any city to west bum-fuck Egypt or Timbukthree. Similarly, in the same amount of time you can go from Miami Beach (aka little Tel Aviv) to Little Havana, or Little Haiti, although the distinct boundaries of one ethnicity or another is rapidly blurring.
Similarly, Kosher, Hispanic, Asian, Continental, or Caribbean cuisines are everywhere you look from South Florida to the Keys, Orlando, Tampa, Daytona or Jacksonville.
This has a tendency to produce a more eclectic atmosphere than one might suspect in Florida, and it is reflected in the residents’ tastes and comfort zones.
Religion (or the lack of it) remains the singularly most divisive influence no matter where you go, and of course, most sexual mores and customs are dictated by religion.
Elliott’s older son was introduced to what became known as The Colony several years before by one of his high-school classmates. His father was a welder from upstate New York who had lived in Florida for more than twenty years. His son had a blue mohawk and listened to Heavy Metal.
Although the expression “safety in numbers” has a distinct ring of validity to it, because no one lifestyle or religion was of any preponderance within the group, most of the residents minded their own business as long as no one was forced to confront any specific behaviors, beliefs,or customs and as long as they did not impinge on the privacy or comfort of any of the others.
The cowardice of numbers lies at the heart of bullying; there was no real preponderance of any lifestyle or belief system at the colony. Because of this, there developed an enforced tolerance of all opinions and beliefs that was not seen in previous societies.
Drug store cowboys and self-proclaimed rednecks are no more prone to prejudice or narrow-mindedness than Northeastern members of the “Intelligencia” or passive-aggresive Southern Californians.
Group-think mentalities need to have their prejudices reinforced by other fearful sheep of the same mind-set before they can be too much of a pain in the ass to anyone else.
The term “rugged individualist” best described most of the members of the Colony. There was plenty of insular space for all of them, and as long as everybody minded their own business, they neither took nor gave any grief to anyone else.
Peaceful co-existence had been the prevailing mood within the group long before they had decided to eschew urban un-civilization.
Their most common interest was in each other’s safety and well-being. The collapse of western civilization had leveled the field for everyone.
It was no longer a zero-sum game.

 

 

Once In a Blue Agave Moon

Posted in Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Economic Redistribution, Long Form, LONGREAD, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, NSFW, Once in a Blue Agave Moon, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, The Apocalypso on March 20, 2016 by dreamlanddancing

chapter One

Elliott Monroe awoke to the sounds of the generators starting.
As he briefly lay there in bed, he thought about how much the world had changed in the last eighteen months.
Over two years ago, he had read about how cyber-terrorists were launching over thirty thousand attacks against the United States and their allies every month…without success…but…
Much like the theories of quantum mechanics and the origin of the earth, eventually anything can happen, and like the monkeys and the typewriters, eventually they discovered the codes that were capable of deciphering the encryption associated with the operating systems of every computer on the planet; banking, defense, security, even the internet itself.
The consequences were catastrophic and swift.
They had not only managed to withdraw all the virtual monies out of all the North and South American, European, African, Swiss, and Japanese banks in the world, they had also placed a “doomsday” virus into the operating systems that caused them to destroy themselves, and their hardware, as well as all the records of all the accounts.
And when back-up systems and replacement programs were installed, the rest of the internet was so polluted with the Doomsday Virus that they were quickly rendered useless as well.
It took several days for even the best run operations to re-start, only to discover there were no funds in the accounts shortly before they too self-destructed.
Even if you had a printed statement from your bank, they were not being honored because there were no available funds to pay anybody anything.
It was believed that Doomsday was not even a single virus, but rather a series of interlocking programs that spread rapidly through any device that used the internet at all…even if only to use the National Observatory’s atomic clock for time reference standards.
Cars that used Onstar or satellite radio would not even start, or stopped within minutes; some crashed. Planes fell out of the skies all over the world.
Several nuclear power plants melted down. Nuclear missiles went haywire.
Some of the programs had been perfected for years before the comprehensive attack was orchestrated.
It affected the News services so badly that the parties involved had to resort to circulating printed material to even take credit for the attack.
More than ten years earlier, the terrorists had begun a plan that was only waiting for the success of the computer viruses for their initiation. They were in no hurry.
The terrain of the area surrounding the Fort Knox Army base is riddled with underground caverns and streams that permitted tunneling through an area over five miles long from nearby Bardstown to the United States Bullion Depository at Fort Knox with a minimum of true excavation.
By a similarly ingenious plot, the mazes of sewers, communications tunnels and underground passageways in Manhattan (some dating prior to the revolutionary war) allowed near enough access to the Federal Reserve Bank, the only bullion depository larger than the one at Fort Knox.
Both tunnels ran the last five hundred feet deep below the vaults, working slowly and sporadically to better avoid detection.
The morning of the discovery of the cyber-attacks, at least twenty “dirty” or “salted” nuclear bombs detonated by two stolen B-61 Mod 11 nuclear “bunker busters” and a pair of ten-megaton hydrogen bombs of the Teller-Ulam design from former Soviet sources and several other devices of either Korean, Iranian, Chinese, Pakistani or Indian design under the United States Bullion Depository at Fort Knox and the Federal Reserve Bank of Manhattan.
Both locations enabled the surrounding bedrock to amplify the effects of the shock waves from the blast and the combined pressure and heat from the thermonuclear blast not only compromised both vaults, but also severely contaminated them with radioactivity.
The heat and pressure was so intense that the other “dirty” or “salted” devices were combined in a chain-reaction not normally anticipated in any previous counter-terrorism models, that assumed conventional detonation of plutonium and uranium, with no concomitant fission or fusion.
The terrorists had no desire to survive the attacks, so no shielding or protective casings were used to contain the radioactivity of the “dirty” or “salted” bombs. It was a suicide mission, which made it that much easier to accomplish.
“All the gold in Fort Knox” (and the Federal Reserve Bank of Manhattan) was now radioactive. The fact that they had been entirely symbolic ever since they had been stored there really had little bearing on the perception of the people of the world.
(Apparently, the terrorists had seen the Movie “Goldfinger,” although they were not interested in any financial gain; after all, within two days they possessed all the net worth of the all major powers of the world.)
They already had plenty of money, but the real point was to take it away from their enemies.
It is estimated that the gold at the United States Bullion Depository (aka “Ft. Knox’) is worth about 175 billion dollars. This is believed to represent 2.5 percent of all the gold ever refined in all human history. The US GDP is estimated at approximately eighteen trillion dollars, and the United States federal budget is set at approximately 103% of the GDP.
The attack was predominately a way of doing severe damage to the confidence of the American people in the liquidity of their government.
After all, most of the net worth of anyone or any entity is based on a combination of faith in what amounts to “virtual money,” rather than cash and the mutual recognition of what constitutes value.
Between credit margins, and speculation, in a cashless society most people rarely ever touch any “real” money. Paper money is based on faith and a promise, but keep in mind that when the economy went from gold to silver certificates to federal reserve notes they no longer bore the promise “payable on demand”.
And let’s face it, you can’t eat gold or silver if you are hungry. The value of gold or precious metals or gems are based on their scarcity, and almost since the beginning of time we have been hypnotized by our desire for them, rather than in any true intrinsic value per se.
And to the radical Islamics, the result of the end of Western civilization was their precise goal. No more Hollywood (or Bollywood), no more televangelism, no more beer or whiskey commercials, no more live lingerie models, no more TV, no more Western aggression; Zionism as a world power would be crushed; no more internet porn and no more Christmas specials on television. No publicly available electricity in the West.
In just two explosions they had bombed the Western Hemisphere into the stone age.
At least, that was the mythology that had become the accepted explanation. Most of the stories that were passed from one person to another verbally were based on speculation, rumors and whatever prejudice, preoccupation, or agenda of the teller.
A few amateur radio operators kept up their own news nets, but no one knew what to believe and if you were smart, you took it all with a grain of salt; after all, no matter what gossip you heard, most of it had no real bearing on your own current state of affairs.
They were all too often just the idle talk of the frightened and the doomed, who would have nothing else to say once the lives they had known evaporated.
North Korea had very little to lose; their governmental leaders lived lavishly, but the mass of people lived in squalor, in silence, and in the dark. Previous satellite photographs of the island of Korea showed a brightly lit south at night, but above the thirty-eighth parallel only a few scattered lights showed anywhere in North Korea.
India and China were similarly affected, but to a lesser degree. For the desperately impoverished masses who had so little to loose, it was a zero sum game.
And perhaps most importantly, No country seemed to have much need to muck about with the rest of the world, which for the most part had lapsed into complete isolationism.
Or so it seemed, until each of the countries participating in the attack on America and its allies tried to double-cross the other. They quickly rendered each other helpless and crippled with a combination of nuclear and conventional weapons.
First it was Russia and China, then India vs Pakistan, and everybody versus Korea.
The Moslems were not bound by national boundary lines, but religion and culture, and initially they stood together. In fact, it was later estimated that the Moslems had actually instigated the conflicts between the other countries with feigned mutual acts of sabotage.
But eventually even the Moslem-ruled countries turned on each other. The same mind-set that had sabotaged Thomas E. Lawrence (of Arabia)’s effort to unify the mid-east was still in effect.
Malaysia was the first to fall; they were the weakest, and the least unified as far as Islam. Once that chain-reaction started, it would have been very difficult to tell who “won”.
Gandhi had stated that “an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind” but obviously, he was wrong…because…
“…In the land of the blind, the one-eyed is king”…and that last guy with only one eye could easily escape the last blind guy…(but if you are surrounded by radioactive glass everywhere you look with that one good eye, it’s not much consolation).
Perhaps even more fortunately each had sufficient intel about each other as to quickly and almost surgically attack each other so as to limit any counter-attacks by anyone, so other than some very localized fall-out, it had almost no effect on North America.
Perhaps ignorance is bliss…border disputes in Eastern or Western Europe or Asia had no real affect on someone living in Idaho…or the Florida Everglades.
Elliott had heard stories of people who still chose to live in the cities, bloodthirsty cannibals, burglars, rapists and bandits feeding like vultures on a rotting carcass that was already nearly stripped to the bones.
The trick was to find a place where only certain individuals could survive, and even thrive in the midst of world chaos. The desert, the mountains, the deepest woods, the most isolated coastal regions and their islands as well as the few swamps in North America…and the Florida Everglades, which were really more like a flooded savanna, hence the Seminole expression “River of Grass”.
Virtually all of what constituted an economy was now based upon barter, trade…and theft.
One thing that had not changed was that all too often keeping what you already have can be more difficult than getting it in the first place… “the same as it ever was….”
Those who had something of useful purpose as well as those who could do or make because of what they knew faired much better than those highly trained aristocrats whose careers and knowledge or training were so specialized that they had no survival skills at all.
It was a very bad time for lawyers, public officers, (like judges or government officials), CEO’s, any level of vice-president of much of anything, travel agents, airline stewardesses, motivational speakers, fitness trainers, life coaches, investment bankers, stock brokers, event planners, and pretty much anyone dependent upon performing services for someone else.
State governments were fucked, but the rich and privileged swine who had manipulated them all along just by virtue of what they still possessed; as long as they could continue to barter their influence over goods and commodities, at least had a chance.
The police almost immediately took over most of organized crime, and split what they couldn’t steal outright with those whose mutual interests might similarly prosper in deference to outright gang warfare, which nonetheless still flourished on a regular basis.
Our military forces faced mass desertions, but those who remained managed to maintain a small elite group of forces who operated much like Mosby’s Rangers during the Civil War, ‘’requisitioning” food and supplies as they deemed necessary. All the armed services bases that remained open had to become self-sufficient by hunting, plowing, planting and farming almost every inch of their surrounding land near their bases, including the livestock they now tended.
Elliot was fortunate enough to have worked out a deal with a group of similarly minded individuals who owned a large tract of land that bordered on the Florida Everglades; mostly dry and wet savannas with patches of scrubby timber and wooded areas.
They all had hunted wild hog and deer on those lands together at various times throughout the years. They all possessed and represented a wide range of useful skills. Most of them were what had been called “trades people”.
Most people would have derisively referred to them as survivalists.
Although they themselves had no idea what would precipitate what some would come to call The End of Days, they knew that eventually, something would happen.
They were essentially autonomous, and lived relatively well in an otherwise dystopian and dangerous world.
It was as if the tables had been turned.
Most city-dwellers as well as most suburban commuters not only could not survive outside their protected communities, but they would have little desire to live without the conveniences and trappings that had already enslaved them.
If you can’t seem to get what you think you want, learn to love what you have.

Chazz Vincent

March 19th. 2016

 

On Letting Go, Pt. IX: The Big Lie

Posted in Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Letting Go, Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone on September 6, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

(This post was a long time coming…it was almost painful to write by the time I finally got it sorted out…at least so far…it marks another leg of my journey of self-discovery that was triggered by…well let’s just say “…an interesting series of unfortunate co-incidences.” Only you can decide for yourself if it has any bearing on your own life.)

It should be no surprise to anyone who knows me at all that I should proclaim myself as a quintessential iconoclast.

I am no True Believer in much of anything. Faith has almost no place in my world despite the fact that as an incurable Romantic, I still desperately cling to Hope.

I am not afraid of apparent contradictions.

“We all need Love, but if you can’t find it, at least sustain Hope, but even when there is no Hope, at least try to find something interesting to do.”

I sometimes feel that I may be the Master of the Obvious by virtue of many of the things that I post, but there is at least some measure of originality within them by virtue of the often bizarre interconnections that I may make between the elements that I attempt to bring together within a story or post.

I am not delusional about presenting anything entirely original, but I have been told that I possess a colorful perspective, and there are some who find it amusing, or if not enlightening in and of itself, at least entertaining.

This is also in fact another of my notes-in-a bottle thrown from the shore of my desert island I call the Villa Chez Dreamland, still waiting for the arrival of the third lifeboat, not so much a cry for help as a shout-out awaiting a nod, a wink or a glimmer of recognition from those of like mind.

I also believe that everyone has to figure their own shit out for themselves, so it is hard to rail against much of anything without sounding like I am l telling people what to think.

So let’s be very clear on one thing…my advice is not what to think, or how to think…just please THINK.

This is one reason why I am very quick to criticize or even ridicule Politics, Organized Religion, or Organized Crime….

Most of us think that Organized Crime, for instance refers to non-Anglo organizations like the Mafia (or Costa Nostra), the Yakuza, African-American, Mexican or Vietnamese gangs or the like.

I have even heard it argued that unless you visit prostitutes, gamble and run up markers, purchase or use illegal drugs, borrow money from loan sharks or engage in other similar pursuits that involve criminal activities, that you are more in danger from disorganized crime (like the asshole that broke into your car or robbed you at the ATM, etc.).

The truth is that I am opposed to just about anything that is too fucking organized at all….

I am also something of an anarchist. I love the chaos that occurs when God rolls the dice that control the universe.

As much as we are taught to embrace Stability, both Motion and Change are the two universal aspects of not only animate, but all seemingly inanimate entities as well. (We just have different perceptions of Time.)

Whether it is a matter of Religion, or Politics, my issue is that they purport to tell you how or what to think, and inevitably they manipulate people to do something that is more likely to benefit them than you.

When it comes to Organized Crime, however, I would suggest that you are far more likely to be victimized by Healthcare Insurance Administrators, Congress, the IRA, the Treasury Department, most attorneys, the court systems, the Police, the Military (or more accurately, those who profit from them…what Eisenhower himself referred to as the Military-Industrial Complex), the Insurance Industry, or Pharmaceutical Manufacturers (just to name some of the worst), which are fear-based organizations that are primarily run by privileged white-collar white people who claim to be your protector or even friend, who have become the aristocracy of America…all the while amassing record-breaking profits by claiming to protect those who cannot protect themselves?

Who will protect us from our protectors?…or from all the good people?

But in truth, even that is just the tip of the iceberg.

When it comes to The Big Lie, there is no real charlatan worse than yourself.

There are many people or organizations as seemingly benign as the PTA that try to passive-aggressively get you to conform rather than to think, but if you choose not to question virtually every aspect of your so-called civilized life then you have no one to blame but yourself if you wake up one day feeling dissatisfied and disillusioned because you realized that you were robbed of everything which you once thought was important to you.

Of course that takes diligence, thought, and perseverance on your part…it might mean giving up a few hours of reality television each week…or even a few of the friends whom you would be better off without.

Many of them are the most insidious purveyors of The Big Lie because they are everywhere. They are so pervasive that they are in fact The Norm.

Once you begin to assess your life in terms of Authenticity, the paucity of truth governing our lives is as ubiquitous as Coca-
Cola, Mickey Mouse, Christ on the cross or fly-shit on a window sill.

More than one hundred and fifty years ago Henry David Thoreau penned the expression “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation…”. (Keep in mind that, at that point in time women had virtually no power or choice in determining their own destinies at all.)

Kurt Vonnegut used a number of expression like “Foma, Wampeters and Grand Falloons” to describe the interlocking series of lies that support our conventional modern “society in its discontent” (last quote courtesy of Erica Jong).

That was a long time ago…

In the Age of Mad Men, before even Masters and Johnson and only a little while after Kinsey, but no matter how much freer or more self-determined or self-actualized we think we have become, women are still marginalized and objectified, and spouses leave each other to go from one frying pan to another in record numbers while they are all working themselves to death pursuing an increasingly conformist one-size-fits-all lifestyle of mindlessly insecure, envious, covetous consumerism until they are either too old, infirm or senile to even remember how to dream, as their children denounce them “…’til all is dust”.

It may seem difficult now, but the longer you wait to ask yourself “What do I really want?” before you act on your answers, the more likely that it will seem impossible later.

One if the most baffling methods of self-deception is the art of weaving an interlocking series of seemingly unsolvable enigmas and paradoxes whereby one professes to despise or reject some action or series of behaviors, that are somehow justified by their mandatory participation in order to maintain their lifestyle, live up to the self-imposed “code” of ethics or behaviors related to some membership within a group with whom they identify, their religion, or because of obligatory familial expectations.

These people love to talk about their problems, and appear to be asking for your advice. They do not want your advice, or any solutions.

They may ask “what should I do?” but they are quick to counter with a host of reasons why any suggestions offered can’t solve their unsolvable problems.

Who hasn’t at least tried to politely listen to:

“I hate my job, but…”

“There is no love left in our relationship, but…”

“I feel useless and unfulfilled, but…”

“I’d leave this town and never look back, but…”

“I know it’s wrong to tolerate his (or her) abuse, but…”

“My parents treat me like a child, but…”

“I just have so much love to give, but…”

or:

“We need to talk about our problems…” (knowing full-well that if you try to counter, or address any of your issues, then the rational talk will stop and the screaming or ultimatums will begin)?

For many, their unsolvable dilemmas not only focus the attentions of everyone within their sphere of influence on themselves, but it also protects them from having to either seek effective solutions to the problems within their lives or face the Great Existential Void.

These are not in fact modern problems or questions, but the world in which we live has done a masterfully ingenious way of hypnotizing our culture as a way of disguising and marketing The Big Lie.

We keep doing the same things over and over again in the delusional belief that if we just do them differently next time, the outcome will somehow be different.

If your idea of expressing your true individuality is to buy from the “mix and match” collection from J.C. Penny (unless you are a cross-dresser and that is all you can afford) there is not much hope of self-discovery through any originality of thought.

You should never stop asking yourself “What do I really want?” or “Do I really need this?” or “What will this really cost me?” or “Just because everybody else believes it, is this really true?” or even “Are you fucking kidding me?”

You may be the one lone voice of reason in the midst of a lynch mob… (Only you can decide if it is worth the risk of doubling the number of innocent lives lost.)

Why are we so hesitant to say “I love you” (or “I don’t love you”) when we mean it most? Sexual intimacy pales in comparison to exposing your soul to another whom you love.

The other question is how much are you trying to promote a lie about yourself because you fear judgment from your peers if they only knew who you really were, or what you were really like?

It is important to know exactly how candid and frank you can be with whomever you are speaking at any particular time…I get it…no need to expose your vulnerabilities to someone who may take malicious action or judgment against you for reasons deemed necessary for their own protection….

It is tragic to think that we live in a society which is still so superstitious as to believe that the incantations of mere words or phrases can pervert or somehow kidnap our morality just by hearing them.

I am trying to address the question of being able to see yourself exactly as you are…exposing your own deepest secret fears that you have never been able to face even within yourself.

How much difference is there between your public and private life? …between who and how you wish you were and how and what you really are?

Could you summons the wherewithal to write an honest semi-autobiographical novel that used your own special knowledge of yourself candidly and without reservation? Could you portray yourself in all your unselfconsciously flawed imperfection with the same loving-kindness you so desire from others?

What do you most fear that others could learn about you that would expose you to shame, or ridicule?

Have you ever lied to your Doctor? Your Therapist or Social Counselor? Your Spouse? Your Children? Your Parents? Your Family? Your Employer? Your Peers? Your Friends? Your Lovers? Your Neighbors? The Police? Your Priest/Minister/Rabbi/Spiritual Master?

What does it take to get you to realize that you are not lying to them…that you are lying to yourself?

Who doesn’t crave the opportunity to grant amnesty for the confessions you already know you are owed by those closest to your heart, if only they would just admit their actions?

How could that not open your own heart to share the unbridled, unvarnished, unexpurgated truth about anything either of you desperately desired to unburden yourselves of, if only you knew in your heart of hearts that it would be forgiven?

And if it should be deemed unforgivable, why are you still there?

Is there a deep dark secret corner of your soul where lurks some aspect of your character, a hidden desire, a fantasy, a fear, a fetish, a phobia, an action, an addiction, an obsession, an ideation, a dream, a need, a neurosis, something you wish you could recall, or recant, or pay recompense or self-rebuke, for which you still hold guilt by virtue of its secrecy, but that nonetheless was or is regardlessly a legitimate part of your being that holds within its secrecy what constitutes your ultimate shame and humiliation?

Can you even acknowledge them to yourself?

How many people have you known in your life who thought that they were covering up some deep, dark secret which just about everyone around them already knew because it was so obvious?

It may be something as seemingly innocuous as that ridiculous comb-over, a toupée, shoe lifts, or dyed hair (in men), latent or blatant homosexuality, alcoholism, drug abuse or that poor soul who tries so hard in vain to stuff her size fourteen body into a size seven dress, or feels she needs to pad her brassiere…

The submissive, the cuckold, or the fantasizing Dominatrix who is afraid to ask for a date and has no boyfriend? Daddy/Mommy issues? Sex Addict? Gambler? Chronic Masturbator? Over-compensating tiny penis victim, or premature ejaculator? …as long as no one openly challenges their charade, they live in denial, if only to themselves.

Of course, you may think I am completely full of shit.

And you are entitled to that…at least you are thinking. The real question is if you are being honest with yourself. Only you can know that.

The Young are not afraid to lie to themselves because they have no acute awareness of the End of Days, but the closer we come to acknowledging our finite mortality the more precious each moment becomes…too precious to waste upon falsehoods, chimerae, or mirages.

Every lie that you eliminate from your world just makes room for that much more Life, Love, and Freedom.

Just keep asking for yourself. Dare to trust the truth within you.

You already know.

Stop lying to yourself.

…And trust your heart.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

09/05/2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

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