Let the Salt Flow, Steve

I hate talking about Twitter drama, especially in the wake of a tragic event where a woman who I know I would disagree with on so many levels was murdered by a man on a drug-induced paranoia, but the worst part about this whole affair is that so many people have chosen to make this issue about their pet social affair without even a thought to the victims and helping people.  We have the feminists who have chosen to make this about how male feminists are hypocrites and secretly just monsters, and the anti-feminists who have made it about how this guy is a hypocrite.  It’s depressing, but I chose not to comment on it.  At least until I saw how Steve Shives reacted, which is perhaps the smallest way of all.

TJ Kirk decided to make a video (linked here) where he maligned both sides and posted a link to a memorial fund for Heather.  It was a kind gesture where he did his best to be open and to make it about the tragic death of a woman who truly should have seen the signs that this guy was not the best dude and gotten out of there.  But that isn’t what happened, and my condolences go out to the girl who was in the Skype call with them and to the friends and family of Heather.  That is horrible and I hope they can find some measure of peace.

But Steve Shives didn’t have this reaction.  Hell, he didn’t even have the action of demonizing anti-sjws.  No, his reaction was the worst of them all.  He decided to attack TJ for making the video he made, in one of the saltiest diatribes I have ever seen.  See for yourself.

I just love this.  Steve, I know that you will NEVER address anyone outside of you SJW circlejerk, but I have an open challenge for you – back this up.  Tell me where exactly TJ used condescension, degradation, intolerance, or shameless exploitation in the video I linked to above.  I’m all fucking ears.  Tell me where he was using hate when he asked both sides to set aside their differences and mourn the loss of someone who died well before her time because of a terrible event that was fueled by drugs.  She died alone in the street, and TJ said he felt sad about that.  He asked neither side to make this about their pet issues and instead embrace our common humanity to come together and even donate to a memorial fund in her name.  Where were any of the qualities you listed in that video?  This is an open challenge to you, Steve.  But I know you won’t accept.  I’m already blocked by you (#BlockedbySteve) and you have shown that you refuse to address anyone who isn’t one of your little minions.

For a long time, there have been those who have postulated that your entire beef with TJ is that he is infinitely more popular than you.  He has over 1 million subs, while your channel is slowly bleeding subs because no one wants to watch your shitty content anymore.  I am one of those people.  And with this disgusting diatribe you have basically proven beyond any doubt that that is EXACTLY who you are.  You are a petulant boy who is screaming and pouting because the other kids like him better.  Except they aren’t kids, are they?  Neither are you.  They are grown adults who have made a choice based on their own preferences.  But you haven’t progressed passed the angry middle-schooler who doesn’t get why everyone likes that other kid more when you are way cooler.

Steve, in the interest of trying to be the better person in the wake of this tragedy, let me try and appeal to a sense of decency (if you have one) – please, step back from your anger and get some help.  Wherever all this rage comes from, get it looked into.  It’s clear that you are miserable.  You spend all your time getting angry at other people and being your wife’s bitch.  No matter how kind and appealing to goodness the video TJ makes, all you can do is hate him and hate him being on YouTube.  When Laci Green decided to make a post where she said that she is going to be reaching out the anti-SJW crowd and attempting to engage in civil discourse, you railed against the idea that they are even allowed to speak.  You said that the only people you would make friends with are people who could silence their ability to speak.  You then make a jab at TJ, just for good measure.

Is this about that video TJ made where he basically destroyed you?  Yeah, I watched that too, and it was funny.  Did it burn you inside, to realize that everything he said is true?  That the people have spoken and they don’t see your content as worth anything and TJ’s as what they want to see?  I bet it did.  I bet it filled you with white hot rage as you listened to him tear you to shreds.  But you have no one to blame for that video except yourself.  You continually try and go after him and make him look bad, but all that ever does is make you look bad.  At least outside of the circlejerk.  Not that you would ever know.  As you told Laci, the only opinions you could even stomach are those that agree with your own.  Anyone with a different opinion is blocked.  Because if your confirmation bias isn’t confirmed and your hatred vindicated in your own mind, then why bother talking?

Get help, Steve.  This isn’t healthy.  The longer this goes on, the chances that when you finally grow the fuck up your audience will be there is less and less by the day.  Us anti-SJW types are kind of vindictive, but if I can give Laci Green another chance, when she has made some of the stupidest feminist-centric videos I have ever seen on that MTV abomination “Braless,” then I could give you a chance too.  I bet even TJ would accept an apology from you, but who knows on that end.

Until next time, a quote,

“No one heals himself by wounding another.” – St Ambrose of Milan

Peace out,

Maverick

My Perfection

I just want you all to know, it’s never anything personal.  Ever.  If I’m coming for you, it’s all business.  This work is just an unimaginably good paycheck.  I’m not paid what other people who do this are paid.  They aren’t me.  They don’t have the talent that I do.  If I am after you, I was paid in the kind of money that most people dream about.  Paid through a random drop at an undisclosed location until right when the drop has to be made.  You pay me all of it, up front, or I don’t do it.  There is no negotiation.  What I name my price, I name.  You tell me the target, and the details about that target.  I do some research of my own.  Afterwards, I come up with a price.  As I said, there is no negotiation.  My fee is in stone, and you will pay it.  Otherwise, I walk, and you will never hear from me again.

There is no one in this world who who can do what I do.  Not the way that I do it.  There are plenty of people who claim to be the type who do it, but they are just amateurs.  Sure, they all boast about their combat experience as soldiers or spies or bounty hunters.  It’s a joke.  That experience taught them how to kill people in wars.  War isn’t where I am.  I don’t go into an active war zone to deal in my trade.  I act in the places that my target feels the most safe.  In the home where they are with their lover.  In the hotel that they have always gone to and never felt a reason to be afraid.  Somewhere that this person couldn’t believe that anything would happen to them.  It’s so perfect.  The utter simplicity of the idea is wonderful.  Shakespeare was right – brevity is the soul of wit.  The ultimate cosmic joke.

Because if I am coming after you, you’ll never know.  But even if you did.  Even if you knew to be afraid, it wouldn’t help.  You can’t change your fate.  If I am coming after you, that’s all she wrote.  Your story, no matter how good or bad it was, comes to an end.  The truth is, you’ll never, ever see me coming.  At no point will your death be something you register.  Unless it is in that briefest moment where you realize what’s happened, but that isn’t often.

I trade in deaths that look like they were just bad fortune.  I’m sure you’ve read about what I’ve done in the papers.  Some poor woman falling off the railing of her hotel.  A business owner being crushed under a chandelier that mysteriously came loose from its moorings.  A fashion model that got food poisoning from her sushi.  The chef gets blamed.  But he isn’t going to get in any trouble.  As I said, I deal in bad fortune.  His career as a chef might be ruined, but he won’t spend any time in jail.  There is no evidence.  Of any kind.  That’s the amazing thing.  If someone ever, at any point, saw me for what I was, then my mission has already failed.  How many incidents did you read about in the paper, not knowing that I had been there?  When that stereo equipment came crashing down and crushed some poor person’s body, did you know I was there?  When some poor sod “mysteriously collapses from an unexplained illness,” did you know that I had put a special cocktail in their drink?  Of course you didn’t.  You were just some frightened onlooker, wondering how such a horrible thing could have happened.  And so was I.  Or at least, that’s how anyone there would see me.

How do people find me?  It isn’t easy.  I don’t come recommended.  At least not on any online location that you will be able to find.  It’s a secret, among those who are the most powerful in the world.  Like a vicious rumor that nobody can prove or disprove.  Those who can prove it know better than to try.  For if they did, they would suddenly find themselves on the business end of my skill.  Though, who boasts about one such as I doing such a thing for them?  This is done so that deniability is absolute.  So there is no possible way that it can ever come back on them.  But because my services cost more than you could make in three lifetimes (for the easiest marks), my existence is known only to those who are wealthy enough to afford me anyway.  Like this ugly secret, that no one is brave enough to talk about.

In the course of my work, I have worn a dozen faces.  I can seamlessly change in a flash!  No one knows what I look like.  No one ever will.  That woman who “fell” off her balcony.  She saw me.  But she didn’t see me.  She saw a phantom.  Just one of a thousand that I have been in the course of the years that I have done this.  Will age ever catch me?  Unsure.  I don’t know if the age comes with the face.  But I change as I need.  Becoming whoever I need to be, in order to complete my objective.  My gender?  Even I don’t remember.  My race?  Changes at the drop of a hat.  My name?  Depends on who you ask.  There is no truth about me.  Even this secret is known in phantoms.  Commit this to memory – there is no one on any world like me.

That is what I am.  I am my craft.  I am what I do.  If I am after you, then you won’t be waking up.  Or maybe you will, but only so briefly as to not wake up again.  You won’t know why your story was ended, or by whom.  Just rest easy in the knowledge that this was never personal.  It was just business, by someone who wanted you very, very dead.  My craft is what I am.  My skill is what gives me form.  My perfection is my truth.

Until next time, a quote,

“One must ask how many poisonings throughout history have gone unnoticed, with the truth being known but only to the dead.”  -The Count, Gankutsuou: The Count of Monte Cristo

Peace out,

Maverick

My Sighting

It was so strange, to see where I was now from where I had been.  Long gone were the days when I had dragged myself through mud to kill a target.  Now I was under the oppressive heat in the desert sun, looking down the scope of my rifle at a distant convoy that was moving across the dusty road.  As I got my sighting down on the vehicle that was suspected of having my target, it got me nostalgic about how I had gotten here.  About the course of my life that led from the cold and frigid life that I led as a child in war, to being here, dressed in thin white clothes that would blend in and breathe.  Had it been only ten years?  It felt like an eternity.

When the war ended, there had been cheering in the streets.  Fireworks, parades, a new government.  It was everything that one could have asked for.  That is, unless you were one of the people who had fought in the war.  As quickly as me and mine were praised for our actions, we were then ostracized and hated by the culture at large.  We were only children!  How were we to know the political ramifications of a war?!  It was so unfair, how hated all of us were.  Most of us had no homes to go back to, so we were forced to get whatever jobs we could.  But what task were any of us suited to do but kill?  It had been all we were taught, for years.  I could enter a room full of armed soldiers and with just a knife and a side-arm, I could kill each and every one of them in seconds.  Not because I am strong, but because I was small and fast.  Most wouldn’t even have time to react before they died.  They would just be dead, wondering how and why.  I could engineer explosives and use them.  As had been done many times.  I would be given some rigged explosives, then told to put them in specific places.  All of us just followed orders.  How were we to know that it wasn’t military installations that we were always attacking?  That there were schools and hotels and other places that were getting destroyed?  I was too young not to obey.  Our commander had told us that what we were doing was the will of God.
But that didn’t matter.  People hated us all the same.  They hated us because we didn’t rebel or didn’t choose not to obey.  Yeah, because that is exactly what you would do.  If you are barely old enough to tie your own shoes, and you are given a gun and told to use it to attack people who you are given very clear understanding are there to hurt you, you would chose to disobey.  Nobody cared.  And since the new government wanted that precious money and aid from empires like America, they disavowed any knowledge of us.  So here we were.  My dearest friend, my sister in war, and I did like many – resorted to crime.  We had to eat, had to sleep.  Squatting in homes so dilapidated that the mice were more at home than we were, and eating whatever we could steal, or pay for if we could find some way to make money.  That became our life.  It was a miserable life.  At least when we were soldiers, the lot of us had each other.  We were family.  Boys and girls who had no problem being naked or in underwear around each other while in the barracks.  We were family.  There were no secrets among family.  Even when it was dangerous in the extreme, that connection was something that you could count on.
Many of us chose to find each other, after we were cut loose.  Those who had no families or friends to return home to.  We formed our another group, and we were family again.  The food was not plentiful, but we had each other.  Sister and I would sleep together, just holding one-another.  While this wasn’t what any of us wanted, it was better than being alone.  For a couple years, that was fine.  However, the law started to crack down on us.  They were hunting us.  We were now the enemy.

One night, it came to a head.  The police busted into the building we were squatting in and attacked.  My soldier training took over.  As did the rest.  The police expected us to be fearful children.  These brutish thugs didn’t expect us to attack.  I took my knife and ran it across the throat of the first one who came into the room Sister and I were in.  He gurgled as blood gushed out of his throat.  The look in his eyes, it was one I had seen a thousand times.  A look when someone knows that this is the end, and accepts their fate.  They are going to die, and there is nothing they can do about it.  There is peace in that acceptance.  One that I knew I would get to see, one day.  For all I knew, this was that day.  But I was going to make them work for it.  Taking the sidearm from one of the police officers, I opened fire on another.  Then they started shooting at us.  Not even a hint of fear, Sister and I had.  I tossed her another weapon, and we took cover.  What followed was a gruesome battle.  We had a choke point, and the police quickly figured that out.  However, they could easily reinforce and rearm their numbers, while we were most-definitely low on both numbers and bullets.
The lot of us realized that they would eventually just call in troops and that would be it.  We were all about to die.  I held on to Sister, not wanting to believe that I was going to die here.  After all the pain and death, this was where I would meet my end?  It was too ugly to think about.  That’s when we heard a voice on a megaphone.  It told us that if we threw down our weapons and surrendered, we would not be harmed.  From one to the other, we looked at each other.  There was consensus – if we stayed there and fought, we would die.  So that’s when we surrendered.  It meant going to a prison cell.  God only knows what we going to happen to us next, but the choice was that or wait to die.  We had all been there too many times before.
Hands in the air, we all marched out.  We were cuffed and then thrown in the back of a wagon.  I looked at Sister, and could tell that she was scared.  So was I.  Nothing but bad things could happen to us from here.  If only I knew.

At the place where we were held, they stripped us all naked.  A hose was turned on us, then we were doused in some kind of powder.  We were given yellow jumpsuits, and told to go into cells.  Sister and I were still together.  She was crying.  So was I.  This was only the beginning.  According to some representative, we were being taken to a prison somewhere far away.  It was being run by Americans.  Without a trial or the single bit of legal representation, the lot of us were now war criminals.  Convicted, without a trial.  What a way to go.  Thrown into an aircraft, our heads were covered and all any of us could do is wait.
The prison that we were taken to was in the closest to Hell that I think of us will ever truly see.  It was hot and sticky.  The heat was worse than any I had experienced before.  Sister was taken away.  I had no idea where.  Each of us was thrown into a cell, by American soldiers.  Those rotten bastards.  I asked them where Sister had been taken, and not one of them spoke my language.  They laughed at me as they made fun of my voice.  I was thrown in so hard that I busted my lip open on the floor.  This was my home.  One that, I had a deep-seated suspicion, I would never leave.  The sound of inmates screaming became regular.  This place was apparently used to house those who the Americans found a threat.  Some inmates suspected that there were things being done to those here.  It was something I learned from some inmates who actually spoke my language.  A lot of Arabs here.  More than I could count.  The lot of us were here because the government in our country wanted us gone, so they made us out to be America’s enemies.  It was a simple way to remove a problem.  This was it,  The beginning of the rest of my miserable life.

For a few weeks, it wasn’t too bad.  The heat was utterly-unbearable, but I grew accustomed to it.  We would be taken to the showers by the guards a couple times a week.  It was almost-all older men here, but it didn’t matter.  I got to see Sister!  How I wished that I could show her how much I had missed her.  However, we got no time alone.  You’d think that a bunch of children being naked among far older men would be awkward, but there was understanding here.  The prisoners saw no reason to hate or hurt one-another.  We were all in this nightmare together, unable to escape.  I got the occasional look from an inmate, but anyone who got out of line was quickly corrected by other inmates who would have no violation of our dignity from the rest of the inmate populace.  I grew to care deeply about each of these people.  So few spoke my language, but those who did got word to others.  In those showers, camaraderie was forged.  And there was Sister.  The love of my life.
However, all as soon made so much worse.  I had had my head shaved again.  This was actually something welcomed.  I had forgotten how long my hair could get, when left uncut.  But that was where the nice things here ended.  One night, my cell door opened and several guards were standing there.  They were soldiers, with automatic weapons.  I knew that resisting would only get me killed, and I couldn’t leave Sister like that.  They grabbed me, put a bag over my head and marched me out of my cell.  I was taken to a room that had no windows, and only a bed.  That was where they pushed me, and when the horror began.  I was stripped of my jumpsuit and then thrown onto the bed.  I will spare you the details.  Every piece of innocence I had was shattered.  They abused me in every way one could be.  I was beaten, used in so many ways.  When it was over, I was covered in their seed, crying.  Blood was running down my legs from where they had used me.  Be it one side or the other, both got their attention.  When it was done, they took me, naked still, and threw me back into my cell.  That was the first night.
The next day, when I woke up, another inmate called to me.  He was a kind man, younger than most.  He told me that he understood my pain.  He too had been subjected to the abuse of the guards.  For a few years, it had gone on, until they bored of him and moved on.  To me, perhaps?  The inmate told me to just go to another place when they did that to me.  Somewhere happy.  It would make it easier.  So that is what I decided I would do.  I would never tell Sister of what happened.  It would just be me who knew.  My shame, and my pain.

Time lost all meaning in that place.  I eventually stopped counting the days.  Every so often, the guards would take me and do as they had done before.  The blood stopped flowing as much.  That was a perk.  A sign that my body had adapted to what these pigs wanted.  Each time, I went to a special place.  I would go to when Sister and I would be holding on-another.  We would kiss and be together, and that was it.  I had wanted her to be my first.  Sex was not a totally foreign concept, to me.  I knew that one day I would want it, and I wanted it to be with her.  That was all that mattered.  So when the guards would violate my body in every day, I kept wondering how much of this would be like her?  It made the time go by faster.
Eventually, I didn’t even give the slightest resistance.  My body just went limp and would be used.  I was not even alive anymore.  Part of me knew that Sister suspected what was happening to me.  The inmates said absolutely nothing.  As a matter of fact, the looks that we had once gotten stopped once I became the victim of these nights of horror.  How many others had been through this?  That question got to me even more, when I saw Sister come in one day and she was limping.  She was hurt.  That’s when I told her.  It was a quiet conversation.  So quiet.  We told each other everything.  Like me, it had been happening to her for some time.  Why did they do this to us?  That’s when I remembered that day when the lot of us were on that ridge, shooting at the cars.  The joy we all felt, inflicting carnage.  Was that the same state as these guards?  It was too horrible to think about.  Now Sister and I felt even more together.  I did something that before I never would have thought to do.  Making sure that no guards were able to see, I kissed her.  Told her I loved her.  She said the same.  I knew that going to this moment, when we held one-another for those few seconds before the guard returned, would help me get through the nights when I was violated.

How long had I been there?  The night that it all changed was when I was being dragged out of my cell for another night.  How badly would they hurt me tonight?  The memory appeared again.  Ready to use to get through the night.  However, when the door opened, my heart stopped.  Sister was there!  She was naked, on the bed, clearly having been the victim of these animals needs.  Her eyes were open, but glazed over.  All life fell away from me.  Was she dead?!  If that was the case, then I was going to die with her.  I’d resist, and make them kill me.  Without her, there was nothing in this world that I wanted to live for.  Tonight was when it ended.  But then her eyes looked up at me.  They were begging.  Pleading with me.  A silent prayer – kill me.  She didn’t want to live anymore.  Neither did I.  My whole life had been nothing but this.  War, death, pain, misery.  This was where it ended.  They threw me onto the bed, and she passed me something.  It was long, with a deadly point on the end.  How had she gotten it?  Didn’t matter.  They wanted us to kiss.  I waited for one to approach, to force me.  When he got close, I stuck the pick into his throat.  There were shouts, raising of weapons.  I grabbed the body of the man who I had attacked.  Their bullets went into him.  I grabbed his rifle.  It was cumbersome, but I had handled worse.  These pathetic American weapons might as well be plastic.
Taking aim, I shot the first right in his chest.  The second I dropped down.  He had opened fire, but was shooting high.  Guess that military training didn’t account for child soldiers.  American scum.  I fired right between his legs.  A scream as the man dropped.  The third had no weapon.  He was against the wall, begging in his native tongue.  Without understanding, I knew the words.  Pleading for his life.  He wasn’t going to get it.  A series of bullets into his stomach.  Screaming, crying, dying.  I waited, knowing that more could come.  Sister slid of the bed and came over to me.  She kissed me hard on the lips.  I knew what it was to want someone at that moment.  Sexually, I mean.  I wanted her.  In every way one could.  So we would wait, to die.
But the unexpected happened – no one came.  There wasn’t a sound.  After the soldiers were all dead, it was so quiet.  I got up, getting dressed.  Sister got her jumpsuit on as well.  It was getting stained with blood running down her legs.  Mine had already become very stained.  Welcome to my life here.  She picked up a weapon and had my back.  We had to find a way out of here.  Why were no other soldiers around?  There was something so ominous about the silence.  Getting to the door, I opened it.  That’s when I came face-to-face with a strange man.  He was dressed in black.  This man wasn’t an American.  That much I knew without even having to look.  He had a pistol in hand.  It became a stand-off as we raised our rifles.
In my tongue, he said to me.  “You killed the guards?”
I nodded.
“Good.  You want out of here?  I can get you out.”
Instantly suspicious.  “And what is it you want from me?”
“You seem to know your way around a weapon.  Obviously trained.  Come join up with me.  I’ll give you a wage, somewhere to live.  You’ll have all the freedom you could ask for.  You just do work for my company.  Sound like a deal?”
Looking over at Sister, she nodded quietly.  What choice did we have?  It was only a matter of time before more soldiers appeared.
“Deal.”
“Alright.  Follow me.”
That was how I had met the man who became the most important person in my life.  He finally gave me my freedom.  Gave me the freedom to live like an actual person.  We knew to keep low.  The man was impressed at how well we were able to travel, and that he had gotten right his guess that the lost of us were soldiers.  It was pouring down rain.  This felt so familiar.  Traveling in rain that was pelting us.  Crawling through mud at points, but never being seen.  I actually looked at Sister and smiled.  She did as well.  How strange that it all came full circle, isn’t it?  The nights that changed our lives.
To the top of another ridge, where a helicopter came down.  We got on, and it took off.  Others were there.  Inmates from the prison!  I recognized many.  Had he come to free us?  Given that he was looking for us to fight for him, it was clear that he wanted troops, but that didn’t bother me.  In fact, it was impressive.  Stealing the enemies of his enemy right out from under their nose.  Right brilliant, it was.
Toward the horizon, we traveled.  Having gone from accepting death to being given an actual life.  This was such a strange and wonderful day.

So here we were, in the dusty desert.  My rifle was trained on the approaching convoy.  Sister was next to me, getting the sighting.  The convoy stopped in the town.  I clicked the safety off, It was time.  The sun was at my back.  I was covered by an awning over what had once been a rooftop garden.  It was a perfect sniper perch.  There was some breeze.  I corrected for that.  Our target was a British officer.  I had seen his picture.  I wouldn’t miss.  He was coming to make a deal with a local warlord.  This was guaranteed to destroy the peace this country had been given.  We were sent to stop that from happening.  The warlord would be destroyed by his own greed.  But if he had help from the British, that would ruin that.
“Target, 1500 meters,” Sister said
“Understood.”  Into the radio, “Shooting solution achieved.  Clear to fire?”
The crackling voice of Overwatch.  “Clear.”
“Understood.”  Taking in a breath, I exhaled slowly.  They were standing at a doorway, talking.  This was it.  A crack from my rifle.  Those few seconds, when the bullet moved across the desert landscape.  Then, the man got hit and fell.  It was right in the back.  It would have blown his spine in half.  He was dead before he hit the dirt.  The two of us packed up fast, keeping low.  We slid off the roof, heading down.  We weren’t worried about being noticed.  From this distance, that bullet would have been like a ghostly specter ripping the man’s back open.  But we had an exfil point to get to.  We would be evacuated via chopper.  Another perfect assassination.  This was my life now.  A life that I had been trained my whole life for.

Until next time, a quote,

“It is forbidden to kill; therefore all murderers are punished unless they kill in large numbers and to the sound of trumpets.”  – Voltaire

Peace out,

Maverick

RAB: Was it Murder…?!

I haven’t done a post like this in a long time.  I’m having a bad day, and I really felt like getting some random bullshit out into the world, to maybe get you, my audience, thinking about stuff.  I know, thinking is not the cool thing to do in modern America.  Humor me, will you?  Because there is some stuff that I’ve been thinking about that really got me all weirded out.  Like, what could be happening?  Oh yeah, some of this stuff is pretty nuts.  That and some good things are happening lately that I think is worth talking about.  So, without further adudes, let’s get down to it.

Internet Aristocrat is back!

I know, right?!  That made me happy too.  Call me a total fangirl (my inner woman comes out when I see his videos), but this made me so happy.  This guy needed to be here for a while.  Of course, the moment that he returns, my corner of the Internet lit up, with everyone being totally stoked.  And, in keeping with him being awesome, he put out another Tumblrisms video.  Here, see it for yourself.  It’s kind of nuts.

Yes indeed, Otherkin.  Another group of people who are totally effing with things.  I remember his video on Headmates, and that stuff was crazy enough.  But Headmates was worse, because it was so clear that those people were just making it up.  They said that they have headmates and are part of a “multiple system.”  But it’s all just them making it up.  Otherkins are a whole other kind of crazy.  These people are fucking nuts!  It’s not even funny how crazy they are.  And the worst part is – their delusions are being fed.  People actually feed this insanity.  Like that woman in the end of IA’s video.  She was feeding a woman who was either totally insane or pretending to be a cat, all to placate her.  That is insanity!  And I can go further.

Tumblr Otherkin get butthurt

I found out recently that Tumblr otherkin are a very easily butthurt bunch.  I decided to make fun of the concept with this little quip –

I identify myself as a pumpkin.  Triggers being – Jack-O-Lanterns, Thanksgiving and carving knives.

And I thought that I had just made a pretty good joke.  Indeed, someone hit the “Like” button, so that pleased somebody.  But the Otherkin crowd decided that they were very displeased with what I had to say.

Hey there! I just wanted to let you know that otherkin/therianthropy is the belief that mentally/spiritually you are not human. For some it has to do with past-lives, for some it’s a strong spiritual connection. We know we are physically 100% human! It also has nothing to do with gender/pronouns- anyone who says it does is a troll or very misinformed! Please try not to post that kind of stuff in the tag, okay? We’re just trying to have a nice night, and that really brings us down.

This ties in to something that IA also said, about the beginning of SJWs.  They came from a culture that tells everyone that they’re special.  Remember what I said about the woman treating a woman who clearly as mental problems like her problems aren’t bad at all?  I thought about doing a whole post on this, but I didn’t have enough to work with.  But now I do.  Otherkin are crazy.  These people are totally delusional.  I can look down on the Tumblrites who make up the Headmates bullshit as bad people, but these people are now laughing matter.  And this person wants me to check my behavior because it hurts his wittle feewings.  Well, sorry buddy, but I am going to make fun of this madness, and I do hope that the people like that woman who was licking her hands get help.  They so obviously need it.

Jurassic World is going to suck

They released a clip from the movie today.  And guess what it has – a bland, undeveloped romance between two characters.  Because that isn’t at ALL an overused plot device in monster movies, right?!  Seriously, watch that clip (linked here) and tell me if that looks like a good movie to you.

What if stupidity was murder?!

I’ve been playing Hitman: Absolution lately.  Fun game, with a story that is so awful.  For real, the level of dislikability of every character in that game that isn’t Agent 47 is a little jarring.  Even the Agency villain is a totally deranged, slovenly misogynist.  No joke, every woman in that game is treated like a toy by the villains.  I’m not having an SJW moment.  It’s a little annoying, to say the least.  Anyway, I was at a mission where you had to kill Lenny’s gang.  I was killing them inside Lenny’s house.  I got the last guy by dropping a chandelier on him.  That was pretty cool.  But it got me to thinking.

How many times do we read stories about some idiot who does something totally dumb and gets himself killed for it?  We all laugh and think to ourselves – what a dumbass!  For real, how can someone be that stupid?!  You see all these Darwin Awards, and it looks like stuff so stupid that it would have to be an accident, right?  Maybe not.  What if those events weren’t all accidents.  What if you had someone who framed the perfect murder by making it look like the person being killed is a total buffoon?  That makes it almost worse, because then we insult the memory of that person by laughing at them.  A pretty sobering thought, if you ask me.  Although, if you are looking to be a murderer, that could possibly be the greatest trick of all – exploiting how apathetic culture is and framing murder as stupidity.  I think that’s right brilliant.  Indeed, if, in real life, I had been able to kill someone by making it look like their dog had brought back their stick of dynamite that they had throw out to go ice-fishing, how many people would question that?  Or, if I stuck a hose up someone’s ass and gave them a booze enema until they died (I’m not even kidding, that’s one of the Darwin Awards deaths), how many of you would think that it was murder?  You’d laugh and think to yourselves – dumbass.  Then go about your day.

And if one was good enough at it, they could potentially keep that going, forever…

Until next time, a quote,

“One must ask how many poisonings throughout history have gone unnoticed, with the truth being known but only to the dead.”  -The Count, Gankutsuou: The Count of Monte Cristo

Peace out,

Maverick

Muslims Murder 12 People in Paris, Media Stands with Islam

Part of me is just amazed.  Amazed.  Not ten minutes after a horrific crime starts to trend, but you have the mainstream media rushing to the defense of the religion that got 12 people killed.  That’s right, instead of standing in solidarity with the people who got killed and their right to make fun of a bullshit, Middle-Eastern faith that is based on a pedophile (why do so many religions have pedophilia?  That’s kinda weird.  And creepy) prophet, they decide – we’re going to stand with the crazy religion whose ideals were responsible for getting 12 people killed.  I just don’t get it.  How can we be this scared of fucking Islam?!  That’s what it is.  I’m convinced.  News outlets see stuff like this, and they decide – oh shit, better not make fun of Islam!  Cowards.  The people who were killed weren’t, but I guess standing up for something is just a little too hard for the news.  Better to be pussies who are scared of shadows.  Don’t know what I’m talking about?  Alright, let’s discuss.

Very recently, a story broke about an attack on the publication Charlie Hebdo headquarters in Paris, following the publication of a number of cartoons that depict the “prophet” Muhammad in unflattering ways. (linked here) That’s right, a number of Muslims got butthurt about their “prophet” getting depicted in an unflattering way, so what is their response – we’re to murder 12 people in cold blood!  Because that is a TOTALLY rational and reasonable response, right?  That’s totally what a person who isn’t a complete monster would do, right?

Part of me isn’t surprised at some of the reactions I’ve seen.  After all, the mainstream media and even our government has been sucking Islam’s dick, so as to not make them mad, for a long time.  Remember that movie that was made a couple years back?  That horrifically-awful film that started an international crisis because it made fun of Islam?  People got killed because of it.  Hilary Clinton came out in solidarity of Muslims.  Freedom of speech?  Nah.  That’s for things that don’t make people mad.  Better to insult that than to stand up for the values that you swore to defend when you entered office.  That’s easier.

There is a history of Muslims getting butthurt and either killing or trying to kill people.  Salmon Rushdie had death threats and calls to end his life, simply for publishing a book that talked about some of the more controversial parts of the Qur’an.  A comic drew Muhammad and had to go into witness protection, because of all the threats on his life.  That’s where that whole “Draw Muhammad Day” thing came from, back when it was a thing.  I daresay, it might make a resurgence.  This isn’t ancient history.  This is something that happens all the fucking time.

I think it’s time that we gave the religion of Islam it’s due.  For all the talks about how it is a “religion of peace,” I sure do see a LOT of people getting killed in its name.  Granted, I’ve seen a lot of people killed in the name of Christianity too.  Hell, Bush II decided to start a war for Christianity.  Yeah, he’s a real trooper, that one.  It’s time that we took religion to task for the horrible thing that it either does or condones.  The fact that people seem unwilling to do this baffles me.

The fact is – Islam has some of the blame here.  Just like Christianity has some of the blame in the recent death of Leelah Alcorn.  These religions have blood on their hands.  If they don’t like that – too fucking bad!  Don’t blame me.  I didn’t kill those people.  I didn’t kill innocent people whose only crime was making fun of your pedophile prophet.  That’s not what I did.  That’s what they did.  There is a manhunt going on at the time of this post for three members of the hit squad who got away.  I hope the cops catch them and lock them in the darkest dungeon they have to rot away, alone.  For real, put the whole lot in solitary and never let them out of it.  Watch their layers of sanity peel away, bit by bit.  Listen to them go mad in that place, while feeling accomplished for what you’ve done.

I stand in solidarity with the people who are victims of a religion that is trying so hard to make the world believe that it is all about peace, when the media is so afraid of it that they will tow the line.  My deepest sympathies go out to the families of the 12 victims of this senseless act of violence, and I hope they can find some measure of peace.  Maybe they can be brought in to watch the three guys doing a happy dance, once they have lost their minds in solitary.  That seems like a nice little retribution.  I don’t believe in the death penalty, but I am not above putting the worst of people in a dungeon and leaving them there to rot.  Give these guy two meals a day and watch their minds rot away.

Anyone who believes that there imaginary sky-daddy condones this kind of behavior, they deserve nothing less.

Until next time, a quote,

“The Qur’an contains 109 verses that call Muslim to war with nonbelievers for the sake of Islamic rule.”  -TJ Kirk

Peace out,

Maverick

Law Enforcement Crime is Out of Control

You know, when I did a post a long time ago about hating cops, I got a lot of shit.  I had to listen from people about how I am a hypocrite and how the cops are our friends and the cops who do heinous shit are just a few bad apples.  I argued, but people still believe that the cops are our friend.  Hell, there was a recent poll that showed that people believe the word of police officers more than normal people.  Why?  I’m not asking that just to be a dick.  There is real reasons why I am constantly skeptical of everything the cops say.  Because the crimes committed by cops, who get almost no repercussions, is out of control.  And it needs to stop.

More and more, these stories are being broadcast.  Part of me is really glad that the Internet has made it so easy now to get out videos of abusive cops.  But it doesn’t seem to be enough.  As I said, the public, overall, still trusts cops.

Now, it’s easy to point to Ferguson and say that that is a perfect example.  I disagree.  The problem with what happened there is that the evidence and testimony was all over the place.  I do believe that Darren Wilson was guilty as sin, but I can at least understand why the grand jury might be a bit indecisive.  Recently, however, another case as become national news that makes that look like nothing.

In NYC, A cop strangled a man named Eric Garner to death, with five of his buddies helping out.  Why?  Well, he was illegally selling cigarettes and they felt he was a threat.  There is video of this.  It was shot on a cell phone.  One of the cops being filmed yells, “camera!”  They then take it and destroy it.  Thankfully, these stupid pigs aren’t especially tech savvy. The video was saved in this guy’s Cloud, which he accessed and uploaded it.  Now, all of the cops involved in this should have been tried and convicted.  But, who has the only person who has gotten criminally charged been?  The guy who filmed it!

That’s right, the grand jury that would have indicted the cop who choked Garner gets off without so much as a slap on the wrist.  He killed an unarmed black man who, as evidence clearly showed, posed no threat at all.  Yet the grand jury saw fit not to indict him.  I’m with Jon Stewart on this – I honestly don’t know what to say.”  Why?!  Why is this piece of shit not going to trial?!  That’s the weirdest thing – it’s not even an actual trial.  The grand jury decides if this goes to trial.  But, once-again, they do nothing.  I just don’t know how to register this.

Police in America are out of control.  There have been five major-headline killings just in the last month.  Two of them were unarmed black men.  One was a black teenager who had a BB gun, but the cops didn’t even verbally tell him to get on the ground or anything.  They just pulled the trigger when they saw the BB gun.  Cops killing innocent people is becoming a national pastime.  Part of me figured – why not make them wear video cameras?  That seems like a step in the right direction.  Then I read a story about a cop in Albuquerque who had three camera “malfunctions,” and each time it was in a use of excessive force.  One of which was shooting and killing 19-year-old Mary Hawkes.

Another story I read just got me so enraged.  There was another story in Albuquerque about a bunch of cops, heavily-armed with military hardware, gun down a dude with a pocket knife.  They shoot him to death, and afterwards, what do they do?  They decide to use beanbags.  Oh, that’s good,  The guy is already dead, so now we’ll use the non-lethal suppression weapons.  What the fuck?!

It isn’t just killing people, either.  In Detroit, a story came up about a bunch of cops actually robbing people.  For real, actual cops (including a 17 year veteran of the force) were holding people up and taking their money.  The Detroit PD tried to play it off like they were fake cops, but evidence was found proving that they were real.  That’s what we have in this country now.  Real cops really committing real crime and getting away with it.

The justice system is almost laughable in how pathetic its response has been.  This isn’t a new thing.  A cop forces a man to blow him in his squad car, the judge says that the guy he was forcing was lying.  The grand jury doesn’t indict a man who is shown to be clear-as-day strangling an unarmed man who posed no threat.  The prosecutor in the Ferguson case is shown to have been SO nice to the cop who killed Michael Brown.  Before video cameras, you didn’t have cops coming forward when their compatriots did this shit.

So, other cops won’t fight against this.  Prosecutors won’t fight against this.  Judges won’t fight against this.  The people won’t fight against this.  Who will?  If nobody will hold the police accountable, then what are we supposed to do?  I’m putting that out there.  This is a problem that we need to acknowledge is a problem.  And the lack of people’s willingness to believe that the cops might not be the good guy is simply baffling.

I can’t think of another group of people who, if a video was shown of them strangling someone to death, would not suffer any punishment.  Except maybe a two-week paid vacation.  Yeah, that’ll teach ’em!

Where does it end?  Who will stand up and demand justice?  What the fuck is going on?!

Until next time, a quote,

“The only ones who should kill are those prepared to be killed!”  -Zero, Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion

Peace out,

Maverick

America Cares! You Know, Unless You Have an Actual Problem

Read a rather fascinating article in Mother Jones today.  It was a young woman telling the story of her cousin, who was schizophrenic and killed his father by brutally stabbing him.  She also talked about her aunt, who had problems of her own, but got treatment.  It was a rather cold look at the absolute failure of the current American mental health care systems.  The staggering statistics of people who need help and aren’t getting it in this country is almost terrifying.  The people who are ignoring this overwhelming statistic are so surprised when shootings like Newtown and Virginia Tech happen.  Why that is the case is genuinely beyond me.

As a journalism major, I hear much on the news.  So much gnashing of teeth after shootings like this.  “It’s because we don’t have strict enough regulations on guns!”  “It’s because the public doesn’t have enough guns!”  “It’s because of violent video games!”  Lots of talk, but the elephant in the room is becoming overwhelming.  America simply doesn’t care about people with actual problems.  Our country can cry the blues all day about how this is bad or that is bad, but when we are faced with a genuine dilemma, what do we do?  We start talking about budget problems, logistical problems, how it can’t be dealt with right now.  Reason after reason why we can’t handle this problem now, but will handle it later.  It’s almost kind of touching.

I read another fascinating article that was written about a new breed of people in this country – tunnel people.  See, it turns out that there are massive underground networks of people in this country.  Almost every major city has them.  Groups of people with nowhere to go and no help to be found, making a life for themselves however they can.  Some of these communities have actual camaraderie.  Most of them don’t.  The truly saddest part about that is that police who have found evidence of these communities (which is surprisingly harder than you’d think) have found something very tragic – diapers.  A lot of the trash in these places is diapers.  Babies and small children are being brought up in underground communities.  This is happening here, folks!  Right here in the good-ol’ USA.

And while we’re talking about things in the US, here’s a neat statistic – there are over a million children right now, in schools, who have no home.  There are children who lie to their friends about where they live, because they don’t want to tell them that they go home to their family’s car at night.  This is happening, right now, in America.  And how much do the pseudo-celebrity jackasses we put in Congress care?  Not at all.  Hell, even the President of this fucking country doesn’t care!  After all, he is embracing the austerity that has been destroying the EU.  Cutting massive chunks from our nation’s social safety net.  Our President has shown himself to be a turncoat for EVERY single thing that he said he stood for.  I hope that the blue-dog liberals are proud.  After all, they have yet to say that he is a bad guy about anything.  Same way that the Republicans sucked Bush’s cock.  Well, every side has a fanbase, doesn’t it?

The reality getting lost in all of this political bullshit is this – America doesn’t care about the people who have actual problems.  I wish that someday, somebody in the media would see that they are the single greatest contributor to all the mass shootings in this country.  When you have people who have nobody to help them, nobody who will listen and  who are having some severe mental issues, what do you think happens when they see the news?  They see some other mentally-unstable person who has done something horrible.  They see the news and the general public wanting to know everything about them.  Everything they said, wrote or may have been a part of.  The public is absolutely swarming with people who will listen, where nobody listened before.  You don’t think that that sort of coverage has an effect?  When we care more about the killers than their victims, you don’t think that that makes a difference?  If you honestly don’t, then please, leave the gene pool.  You aren’t worth the genetic material that made you.

If there is an afterlife, Mr. Rogers must be looking down right now and wanting to cry.  His entire message was about taking care of each other, because it makes the world a better place.  That people should care about one-another, because being hateful and divided just makes everybody hurt.  But what have I been hearing my entire adult life?  Something along the lines of – you gotta look after yourself!  Don’t help nobody because if you do, they will become losers!  On and on it goes, with everybody finding more and more ways to justify not helping people.  Because they really do seem not to care.

What hurts me most about this is that I keep wanting to believe that there is something redeemable about this species.  That we aren’t just wild and filthy animals that can occasionally aspire to something OTHER than pure evil.  But over and over again, humanity gets more opportunities to prove me wrong.  And they take advantage of all of them.

You know, if we are going to be the evil empire, could we please just drop the fucking pretense?  Could we just man-up and admit that we are evil?  If this country is going to give fuck-all about the fact that we are using drones to kill innocent people overseas and not care that over a million kids in this country go to school and have no home, could we just accept that premise?  For real, can we just fucking stop pretending to be so good, when we’re anything but.  See, here in America, we trample upon the people who can’t stand up and fight for themselves.  A pity that the people who did all these mass-killings didn’t get the memo about that.  If only they had known that, they could have done what they want with impunity!

Until next time, a quote,

“But we’re fucked.  Because it’s too easy, in nature, for evil to conquer good.  For force to conquer peace.  Because the tranquility of 20 people at a picnic can be destroyed by one maniac, wielding an automatic weapon.”  -TJ Kirk

Peace out,

Maverick