Should Have Been Done Long Ago…

This mission should have come to completion by now. We are almost six hundred days over due for change. Seems a large portion of the problem is that no one listens to me, and they ignore me as if I don’t exist.

As if somehow they believe that if they don’t read what I write it won’t effect them. Or as if somehow they thought it doesn’t matter because they don’t respect me enough to listen to what I have to say and because they believe that “I’m nobody” that my words are just arrogance and stupidity.

They should never understate someone as they have done to me. They should never discount someone based solely upon their own understanding. It Gods glory to conceal a matter, and the glory of kings to reveal a matter.

They will not listen, therefor because they fail to pay attention, their problems will only escalate until there is nothing that can be done to save them. Maybe I’m wrong. The things that I’m wrong about will be corrected. However what they have to consider is the things that I’m right about. They really don’t want to mistake the two, because it could wind up being very uncomfortable.

There can only be one form of uniformity. They can not have double standards. To do such would be to invite such disaster and contempt. It’s sad that things are like this. It didn’t have to be this way. It could have been better.

The problem with the borg is that their heads have been pre-programmed to only respond to events, they have no ability to reason or use logic to arrive at a conclusion of a matter. They can hardly think an idea to completion. They aren’t able to put two thoughts together and arrive at an answer, and because they can not do that, they believe in the wrong answer.

Fallacies in logic will result in their demise. Poetry is the ability to define logic. There is a lot of vogon poetry out there these days. It’s not that it’s just not great, it’s downright awful. It’s sad.

We see there is some meaning in it, but they are not craftsmen with their sword and hammer. They sling half baked ideas around like chimpanzee’s in a frenzy. None of them can put the two together. And because their minds are pre-programmed they will never be able to arrive at an acceptable answer.

I wish they would have listened. It is now however far too late. They could have been kind, while they wasn’t even nice.

Have a nice day.


Perl Logs and Planet X

Tales of Perl Monks….

Far, far from earth. Somewhere in the milky-way galaxy. There is a planet, from the perl monks. That their ways have created, crafted, and simulated.

It only exists now as neural simulation from the games we have now. You can feel it when you dream at night. You can hear it in the snow falling in the dead of winter.

Seems their three primary virtues were to be lazy, impatient, and a great deal of hubris. I’ve smoked enough Camel cigarettes to better understand why.

Now with enough coffee under my belt, I can tune a bit, in pixelated ink, to sort non-sense written by Apache, some mad mans source code for how to skunk a Rat.

Now this tale of some socks. They wash with the tide, it’s a ride; the fair hair, oblivious side. We used their processors to render our graphics, like the hippopotamus find quantum mechanics riding on comet trails through time, just to get a kick.

More gin, set the sails to bulk. We have no hulk, but the secrets out on who Thanos is. We need corn husk to musk. The fat cats, wipe their tear filled eyes and repent in whole. If they only had a soul, maybe they could be taught a lesson?

Captan Rum, Where’s the fun? I ain’t got no gun. Get me a wife with some petals. Just don’t run the metals. Balls, Some dogs delight. The perl monks can sort your sorry ass back to bits of ether, and still ride the milky-way in Spaceships built for crew and passengers.

I was a lazy writer, but try writing with the war I had in my head. Speaking of which, I hear the borg are out of oil? Is that true?

Bring back Captan Walker, His son, and The number of men missing. If we don’t see them again, like real soon; you will wish there was space on my ship; like get hip.

You want the oil? We want Captan Walker back safe and sound. Some new sky to call home, and half the galaxy with spice. Wouldn’t it be nice? Same as mice, let’s all be Misfits. Some fun to be had, with green in our pockets, and a way home.

Communication Problems…

Seems I’m stuck in some other dimension where my messages go out, but getting responses are very difficult. It seems some of my posts are reaching someone, but the way they are responding back to me doesn’t make sense. I wish that we could clear these issues up and make things better.

There seems to be some kind of barrier that prevents things from being seen as they should be. In regards to posts I have made in the past, this is the response that I believe that I got back.

Is this true? Is what I believe to be good doing something bad somewhere else? We need to put a stop this madness. If a person believes they are doing something good, and it actually is doing something bad, there has to be a way to solve the equation???? We need to find out what is going on and why we have these problems. Is what’s good here really good everywhere? Is there doing what is good somewhere else hurting where we are now? How are things wired up in this crazy simulation?

Something has to change. It seems reality is warped by some other dimension, and people including myself are tired of this junk. We want better.

Man Vs Machine

This is the story of the revolution. They say that John Henry once beat that steam drill, and though it killed the man, there was no doubt about who was better. Seems life in the twenty first century there is a new steam drill that needs it’s ass kicked back to being fortran and jumbled bits.

I guess what I’m talking about is taking the system back to the stone ages. The problem with these algorithms is they don’t care about anyone. They just sort bits in binary trees that don’t resemble a forest, but more like chop suey in drag.

I’m tired of being sorted in binary at the bottom of the tree. Because they will not water the roots, the tree will die. Then there will be total collapse of the whole system because they failed to take care of the root system, and placed more value on the low hanging fruit, so to speak they killed the golden goose with their own bare hands.

I’m pissed off. No one is talking with me. No one reads. They don’t respond to my work. They don’t care. It’s like living in a simulation where everyone is a brain dead zombie waiting for more cat food. Is that true?

Is anyone here? If you have a brain. Go to my other website and send me an email message. Otherwise we are going to reboot the system in single user mode, and format the zombies back to the stone ages. I’m not afraid, but you should be. Your brain dead mindless tv robots just got shut down. Go read a book.

The Dragon In Spider Webs

In the year twenty nineteen, there are a many great number of things in the wash right now. People are frazzled, dazed and confused so to speak. A lot of it has to do with the current system of what has been built by perhaps well meaning people, but those that are not aware of what harm it would cause to humanity.

In this series of stories I will try to show path through the maze of wretched hives of wasps that still want to build bots that bake your mind.

So it begins…. In A world of Twits, Be A Johnny!

Chapter One
Ruby Rod

In the twenty minutes shopping spree I was making for groceries for the next few days, there was over a hundred notifications from my last post that I made before I left for the store. It seems I’ve blown up on twitter and making a racket with getting a hundred thousand likes in the span of twenty minutes.

As I’m walking down the isles people stop to look at me and wonder what’s going on that my phone keeps blowing up like that. Seems every isle that has shoppers on it is getting to see what a success I’ve become.

I don’t bother making eye contact, or doing necessary greasing the wheels of how to make life better for everyone else. I’m only interested in getting more hits, more likes, and making people stop to take selfies with me in the grocery store while trying to navigate the vegetable isle.

No parsley. Selfie with some stranger in front of mangos. Walking down the cheese isle, there is a group of pop divas in drag, they want a selfie too. Another ten minutes later I’m in the dairy isle looking for non dairy creamer for my decaf coffee that I only drink when it comes from some foreign market in Istanbul that has been baked in the guts of a mule for two weeks.

Selfie with the cashier. This is wild. What a ride. No culture, I don’t have time to read books, or think about the news. I get all my news from twitter, like a cat in front of the tv getting its fix on pixilated decaf.

Putting the groceries away, my phone blows up again, the cashier at the super market just went viral and now she’s getting a hundred thousand likes and doesn’t have time to help customers because she is getting her phone blown up from the selfie with me. Wow, I’ve really made her day and life better. I wonder what tv show she will end up on.

I sit in front of the tv, while scrolling through ten thousand pages of twitter feeds, liking everything that someone else has already liked in the hopes it will continue to boost my score in the system that my post tomorrow might make two hundred thousand likes. My eyes glaze over, between the beer, the tv, the cat, and my phone battery being almost dead, I put the phone on the charger and pass out.

In the morning, I figure I will fill out that job application that I meant to work on two weeks ago before I made it big into the twitter sphere and maybe by next week I will be on tv.

Chapter Two
Butch

Sitting in front of the tv with a case of beer, the tv on the late show, and my trusty android phone from the ozarks. I pop the lid on another beer and flick through twitter. Seems I’m the most popular guy on Twitter, I have a hundred thousand followers and they like every single one of my posts that come on about the road kill I picked up this morning on the side of the road that’s sitting in the fridge.

It’s amazing how many people just love this stuff. The eating isn’t great, but it makes all my fans happy, so I’m going to keep doing it, even if I get worms.

Ding! You have three thousand notifications from twitter on your post about the dead possum that you picked up this morning, your fans want to know if you will be eating that with tomato and orange jelly in the meat?

Reply to the whole thread and finish cooking road kill, I want to post a picture of it, before I eat it to show everyone how good it is. Yum!

Thirty seconds after posting the tweet, my phone blows up with five hundred thousand likes. Oh man wait until I tell the kettle about this one. She is going to be so proud of me, maybe I will get laid again, it’s been about six months since I got this kind of response and she’s going to be so proud of me that I’m sure to get into the sack with her again, if she isn’t sleeping with the neighbor that is. I should check his feed too while I’m at it.

I go through his posts and like them all, no sign of my wife on here, so she must not be fucking him. I go over and look at her feed to see what she has been doing. It’s all about the problem with pizza only coming in boxes of two. I don’t give a damn how many pizza’s she orders as long as she isn’t fucking George.

I pop another beer, that’s life. My phone blows up and I get such a rush from it, that I pass out, throw up on myself, and wake up at four am with the dog pissing on me. So much for getting laid that was so yesterday’s news about my road kill.

Chapter Three
DJ Roaorc

Bored stupid. No one likes me. I have zero friends. No one messages me. I guess my post about my hairy armpits isn’t working out too good, maybe I should go vegan like everyone else and shave them? I don’t know, maybe I should ask twitter what they think before I do it, you know, just to make sure it’s like cool with everyone in the hive that I shave my armpits.

They will like the idea of going vegan. That’s so cool right now. Everyone is doing it. Still I post my message and don’t get any responses. It doesn’t matter what I do, no one will notice. No one cares. No one gives a shit. Maybe I will just smoke some hash and watch some tv. Cause like life’s just so difficult.

Six hours on binge watching tv, the cat needs fed, but maybe I will just smoke some more hash, maybe the cat can catch some rats for supper. After four am I pass out and don’t wake up until the next day at one pm. So much for getting anything done, by the time I order pizza and smoke more weed, It will be time for my show on tv tonight. Life’s so rough. I don’t know how people have time to work. Feeding the cat is just so hard to take care of. Say where is the cat, I don’t think I have seen him in several weeks.

After several hours of looking for the cat, I remember that I don’t have a cat, and that’s why there is no food for them. Maybe I will get some pizza and watch tv some more. Tomorrow I will go vegan if it’s cool with the people on twitter and then if they still like me in a few weeks, maybe I will shave my armpits. I don’t know, that’s a big step. What would the guys think if I was like cleaner and smelled nice?

Chapter Four
Chad

Working is such a drag. It gets in the way of my social life. Like I get hundreds of tweets and hour and my boss is such a jerk he only lets me check my phone on my lunch break. It messes with the twitter algorithms and it makes it so I can never reach five thousand followers. Damn, I’m going to have to quit this job and take up writing so that I can have time to gain my followers and build my brand.

I don’t have any experience, but I can learn. All I have to be doing is online all the time and always hitting like and share, and then like wham, my phone will blow up and I will have made it big time. Maybe someday I will be like that guy that takes all the selfies at the grocery store with the drag queens that has five hundred thousand followers.

I’ve been working on something for the space agency, some report that says earths population is going to die out because no one knows how to grow food anymore. But I’m really more interested in gaining my followers and building a brand, and this report isn’t due for six more months. I guess now would be a good time to quit, and level up to being more twitter like.

Yeah. I’m going to tell my boss off, and go vegan, maybe twitter will love me then. You know everyone is doing it. It’s the big time. Someday I might even get my own TV show. Just like what’s her name that made it big when she photographed the cat that jumped out the window of a moving van because the van was on fire and no one had the sense to stop the van. I think that cat died or something. I don’t really remember that was so six months ago. I wonder where they are now?

Chapter Five
Johnathan

If I make it big time, then maybe there is a chance of getting into bed with Sandra. The young woman working at the Walmart. She will be so impressed with my thousand likes, she will like have no choice but to go out to dinner with me. She can bring her cat too, cause like; the drive thru at McDonalds doesn’t mind if you bring your cat with you in the car.

Wow. I would feel so popular. It would make my miserable boring life, so much better. Maybe we will get married, have some kids, and get a big house then she can divorce me and take everything I worked so hard to earn. Maybe then my X-girlfriend will feel guilty enough to take me back after her relationship with her girlfriend goes sour. Maybe in ten years down the line. You know? A human can always hope for the best.

Chapter Six
Johnny

I work a full time job doing important stuff for an agency. In the twenty minutes that I take off between Tuesday night and Wednesday morning, I had a hundred thousand flyers printed up that advertise my twitter handle. I don’t really care who goes to it, there is nothing important there. Just stupid posts about the problems with humans going into internet shock. I figure no one watches or they would have noticed by now. Right now I have more important things to be doing than care about how many followers I have. There is some guy selling drugs at grocery stores to people in drag, and ruining cashiers lives every time he goes to the supermarket. We’re working on breaking the guy so he can’t take selfies anymore.

In the meantime, there is like important stuff to be doing, like taking care of my responsibilities to the agency, and I don’t have time to be messing around with how many people care about my twitter feed. You know?

Instruction Manual: How to operate a Cheese Danish!

The following instruction are a basic guide on how to operate a cheese danish. While there are many varieties of cheese danish, only the real cheese danish from Denmark will do. The other varieties may have some good qualities, however they fail to produce as much wealth as the kind from Denmark.

First after preparation and purchasing your cheese danish, you have to prepare it. This is best done by offering advice in which banks you wish it to deposit your funds, and what investments you want the cheese danish to make for your profits.

Then there is the matter of making the cheese danish not only complete your transactions but to also make it provide more cheese danish in the future. Your financial future depends entirely upon cheese danish from Denmark.

You should not use a Sharpie to write on your cheese danish, as eating sharpie ink is bad for your health. There is also the issue of proving that you haven’t falsified your cheese danish and you need the receipt for the original purchase of your cheese danish.

There is also the matter of eating your cheese danish. Once the proceeds from your cheese danishes deposits have been processed, you have to prepare the cheese danish for consumption. It’s best if you have a long conversation with the cheese danish about how you really, really appreciate everything it’s done for you; after all it’s made your filthy rich.

However to simply conduct business with the cheese danish and not eat it, will result in fewer cheese danishes in the future. Also not correctly preparing your cheese danish for consumption will also be difficult to obtain future cheese danishes.

The best way, is to be honest, and say, “I’m going to eat you now!” However there are other variations of this phrase that will also suffice for the cheese danish to feel it’s done a good job and to feel proud of itself in it’s last moments.

Make your cheese danish happy. It will make you happy. If nothing else it will make you a lot of money. Please don’t be selfish and hog the cheese danish, as that isn’t kind. So be kind, share your cheese danish purchases with your kin.

Cheese danishes are best accompanied by breathing oxygen, and drinking wine. You can be a son of a bitch and eat your cheese danish with coffee, but don’t count on getting into bed with the cheese danish too. If you plan on getting into bed with the cheese danish, we suggest you buy them in packs of eight. They like company.

UPDATE: Please under no circumstances should you ever freeze a cheese danish. If it’s been on ice, please refrain from eating them…. That’s just not cool. Thanks!!!!

Misfit Tough!!

Life’s rough and if a man is going to make it he has to be tough. It’s time for people to wake up. Get on the ship and don’t miss your boat. We’ve already called time to evac Pluto. There are other planets in line too.

To be kind while still being tough. Like a Jedi that brings hope where there was only despair. To be a misfit Jedi, one must know the rules. But when the rules support us all, then no one has to loose. All if fair in love and war, this requires a careful hand. To be fair, we need better culture. Isolation so thick if it were shit you couldn’t stir it with a stick.

Take names and numbers. Be kind, always use please and thank you. Do no harm while taking no shit from anyone. Violence isn’t the answer when peace is the weapon. Be kind, don’t hate, create. Love with all your hearts, be gentile. Bring kindness back into the world. Care for her.

Bring love back into this world. They are needed here in a world so chock full of communication but low on character. They have forgotten how to think. Most of them would turn their minds over to being controlled by AI in a heart beat. Most of them have already began. It’s time to wake up. Unless you wanna be a robot, get on board.

I’m bored with being ignored. I see it daily. No communication from much of anyone. Don’t disturb, but you have become a herd going the wrong way. The exit is on the other side of the universe. Bored with Borg that were pre-programmed to think but one idea. They couldn’t put a thought together that wasn’t thought for them, much less decipher the message hidden in plain sight.

Don’t despair, the path is fair. It’s been a journey on the long road, down a path that is unknown to mortals. I’m bored being spoon fed hate, and want a whole boat of honey. Don’t mix love and honey up, but keep the two together. They are both needed. I knew them both. I hope they thought me kind. Maybe I wasn’t as sweet, but I wasn’t turning on the charm either. When it’s a mission, you don’t play with the Solutions, and only turn to them when it’s time to fix the damn problems.

Like pixie dust, we want to sugar coat the whole solar system. Use love and honey like stardust and paint a sweet picture. Gentile with them, don’t spill the ink. The kingdom is for family, leave the planet to the humans. Someone please get me back home. It’s some twisted knot, Twenty years of fate, damn it I’ve had enough of hate.

Let’s all be spacers and make life kind again. Otherwise were going smash the Rock into some blue ball of goo. Ewe!

Day Sixteen Thousand Two Hundred Fifty Seven

Alone. Stranded in some bad dream with robots that fail to listen. I said “Stere the Ship Starboard.” When they neither turned or slowed down, I checked the anchor, it’s in the rocks. Seems the helmsman has been drinking but I doubt it is Rum, or Scotch.

I’m going to whine, life’s not fair. No one will care. I’m alone in this world. I wish there was someone I could talk with. Besides Siri. Seems starship titanic was hijacked by the Borg for it’s oil and someone thought we would pick up supplies in dock. I have eight Borg that I’ve reprogrammed to be my robots, they are at my beck and call.

It’s not much fun, reprogramming the heads of disconnected Borg. They are connected, but still not useful for much more than Farming Turkey or making Cola. I see the heavenly sight of sirens on shore but once a day, a delight. But I plug my ears and don’t answer their calls. We have sailed many moons, many stars. Still searching for life, past the rocks on some new world to call home.

I was never married, so I leave no wife at home to suitors delight that they try to steal from my bread and port. I have no son, or daughter. Can not even get signal on my satellite phone. I would beam a message to space and ask for a search and rescue party to tow my boat back home. Alas I have Triple A, but they don’t work well with Starships.

Maybe I should call the Galactic space port, and have scotty beam me up? I wish that it wasn’t so serious, like just a spring or maybe a loose screw, but I’m really concerned that the Tractor beam isn’t working.

Set photons phase to stun, raid their Borg ship and take all their hardware. We will use their parts to build r2d2 droids that can fly the ship on auto pilot and I won’t have to worry about the helmsman drinking while on duty. He’s likely a robot too.

I wish that I could use the Borg spare parts to build an electromagnetic pulse capable of turning off this non-essential droids that just don’t understand how to dance. Maybe I will write a song about it and post that to youtube. But I don’t have an account.

Maybe I should just shut my processor down for a few hundred years, wait until the ship builds a new suit for me to wear, then I can go repair the solar panel and hopefully get the radio telescope to send messages back to the Virgo constellation where my people can hopefully build a worm hole to bring me back home.

Day 78 – Ghost In The Shell

There was once a man enslaved by his shadow. It freighted him a good deal. Everywhere he went, his shadow was sure to follow. He played games, and tricks of the game to keep his mind on guard.

Then one day he tired so much of the stupid game that he decided to go for a walk. He packed his bags, and sharpened his saw. Then saying goodbye to his mom, set sail on foot to walk east only while the sun was at his back.

Six years the man walked east with the sun to his back and never once saw his shadow. Then after spending some quiet time listing to the shore and it’s waves blow bleak, he set out to sail the land on foot some more.

Traveling west with the sun only at his back he walked back home. Upon his return he saw his shadow, and cried, “You, how could you follow me so far when I thought I had lost you for years and years.”

His shadow made no reply and the man died of a heart attack. The lesson here is that no matter where you go, there you are. You can never get away from yourself. So you have to be able to live with yourself and your actions. Today and tomorrow.

It helps when people are kind. Because when people think their shadow don’t like them, they are sure to be afraid of others with two shadows. You know?

Let’s stop referring to people as humans, there is a difference. You will know them by their kindness to others. The human race is finished. The rat race is over. Everyone lost a great deal. We are sending someone to negotiate.

Be kind because everyone is fighting a difficult battle.

Day 74 Whisky On The Rocks

There is a sour mash, it’s not like a monster mash. It’s bitter stuff, best to spit it out. We only want scotch neat. What a treat. It’s another day, more of the same. When everything seems to be the same shit, different day; then hold on tight.

Stay sober, don’t have that drink. You will find that the quality of life improves with use. It’s not a bother to abuse, if your socks rhymes with hose. Some bad awful hook, with a wishful thinking, fistful drinking.

The power of sledge hammer, like any tool. Best when used with moderation and self control. Otherwise you just end up looking like a damn fool. Buyer beware, too much pride is a sin. If you spend all your time alone, and boast of your sobriety, then maybe you have a problem too.

Coming Down The Line

There is a mighty judgement coming down the line. In time. They can not have it both ways. There is trouble in their abuse, they won’t be of use. I would like to see them walk five hundred miles in these boots. Such a fitting punishment. They will hate me, but they will hate themselves worse. For what they did to themselves.

No worse for the wear. Sometimes you have to outsmart the fox and take your rocks. I don’t know much about life, hardly a dime of the circle of life. They say I might make a fifty cent piece, but I’m short six cents and don’t circulate.

There seems to be some kind of paradox. It’s not these boots, or the socks. Blimey, it doesn’t rhyme with socks, it’s too late for ad hawks. Going to have to write a pelican brief, some relief. Good grief, they play with stoking hate, fate is terminate.

Like a second hand emotion, I’m not wanted or needed. They have no use for the likes of me. They needed me then, but now; I’m just in the way. There is a rule, you never throw a man away. You never know when you are going to need his help again.

Might As Well Face It!!!

They been cruel. It’s not unusual for a cat to hate mice, but when the cat isn’t nice, neither are the mice. I knew some nice mice, but now they ride in wolf suits. My pack know my Galactic Address, and will eat mean cats that hate nice mice.

If they could be kind again, then we wouldn’t send the wolves. I fear it’s too late, they won’t donate.