Abuse and How Every Woman Should Handle it!

By Jade Stewart

I guess a lot of people have been waiting for a new post. I have allowed myself to be pulled into drama of late, all of which is completly my fault! It's my fault for hanging out with a man who does not know how to treat women.

I have discovered the truth about this cheater, and have resolved the issue. I will never again allow myself to be fooled by an opnoxious punk of a man. I'm sorry for not writting but due to the fact that I have 16,000 dollars of dental to get done, I work every single day, 8 hours shifts, and am exausted beyound all reason.

Theres a song called "NO LOVE" and thats exactly how I will be treating my ex-boyfriend Seth Dickens, who's ass I kicked! Why? If you get caught kissing another woman, expect to get punched in the face! I'm no ones fucking door mat...and I am a stripper and do know how to box!

I expect to be treated with RESPECT!

He's been dismissed and has probably already begun to hang out with the woman, whose tung I caught in his mouth. He's now her problem, not mine anymore...and when he kicks her teeth down her throat, or kills her ass, I won't feel bad at all!

I tried being nice to Seth, I tried being respectful to Seth, at the lose of almost everything I have ever had, but there are some people in the world...who can never change or be "COOL"! Seth Dickens is one of those people.

I'm not calling him names! I'm not putting him on blast! I'm telling the truth; maybe as a warning to all those dumb-bitches me included;who see a pretty face and think, "he'd never hurt me!" He will do this violent shit again, any woman who hangs out with him will never really be safe.

What kind of a man pulls a sleeper-choker-move, knocking his girlfreind out, when she's laying down and not doing anything to him? What kind of man does that? A phyco does that!

Needless to say that after almost being killed for a secound time by this Seth Dickens ...I won't call him a human being..."we will never speek again!" And he can do all the imoral, disrespectfull shit he wants to do with and too someone else!

How could someone like that ever respect me? When it is so blatenly obvious that he doesn't and has never respected himself!

And the stupid woman who was kissing him, kept saying it was her fault-maybe I should have punched her in the face too? Someone from another state asked me; "whats wrong with people in California?" He said; did she want you to punch her in the face too? Then he said; people in California act crazy and don't know how to act!


Seth kept asking me threwout our relationship; why don't I trust him? Because every time I have my back turned, he cheated on me...with the nastiest of the nasties, saying; "don't get mad! why are you mad?"

I deserve better, and I can finally see that fact. The chick I caught him with is pretty but stupid, and my ex boyfriend Seth fuckhead Dickens and her deserve eachother...why? He doesn't deserve a brilliant, smart, or sucessfull woman...because any woman like that would see him for what he is; A LOSSER AND AN IDIOT!

The chick whose toung I caught down his throat obviously didn't restpect her boyfriend either! She didn't respect him enough, not to make out with my boyfriend in the bathroom at a party; she deserves what ever she gets, and so does he!

Although if Seth Dickens doesn't learn how to control his out of control anger problems, he will defenently wind up in prisson or dead. Because I'm 100% sure, that someone else will kill him, or call the cops on him, which will ultimatly distroy his life.

No woman, I don't care what kind of bitch you think she may be, deserves to be man handled or deserves to be beater. And if you pull any chicks hair; expect to get punched in the face over and over again!

Especially when she's not feeling good, and has done you a solid by hanging out with your punk ass anyway.

But also expect to get kicked if you try to pull her out of the car from the drivers side when she's sick and has been drinking. But most of all don't expect her to keep your abuse a secrete every woman should tell everyone...abuse can only happen just like child molestation if it's kept a secrete. I don't keep secretes for assholes who can't even be respectfull enough to drop my stuff off on the porch and not thowing it on the lawn. My father had to pick it up and just thought; "what an asshole!"

Secreatly I hope I broke a rip, because maybe that thoughtless dick will remember that some woman will fight back. I am one of those women. I deserve respect, and if I don't get it, I will be more then happy to tell a used up porn star, to fuck off - after I beat his ass for man handeling me!


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My Favorite Posts

Silvia's Mr. Buzzard! Part I

Silvia and the Buzzard Part Part II

Silvia's Mr. Buzzard Part III

Mr. Buzard IIII

Why Is Killing So Common These Days?

Jesus The Man

Will Justice Ever be Served in The U.S.?

Bye Bye American Pie! The end of The American Dream!

Job=Lower Pay + Higher Standards

A Teenage Space Alien Science Project

Hairy the Space Alien Kidnaps President Obama

Harry the Aliens - Arch Enemy - Plans Kidnapping Obama!

Harries Evil Arch Enemy Continues

Harries Evil Arch Enemy Kidnaps President Obama!

THE U.N. SCAMS BILLIONS!

Will There be War In Iran

What If I Hated Mohamed!

Is Gay Marriage Going To Mess Up America?

Right Wing Extremists Are Against Contraception

Employment Tactics In California. Are They FAIR?

Upper Yuppie Mentality

How Important is Heritage?

Bye Bye American Pie! The End of the American Dream!

By Linda Mains

I want to say I’m happy with the FAKE American dream, where all of America’s News Caster’s are lying to us all, about everything. Where we walk through the mall, and then go through, isle after isle of crap. Crap that we never ever-really needed. We have become a phony throwaway society, with a weak and sheepish people! We’re like the Israelites of the old world – ready made to be turned into slaves, rather than fight for our lives. I tell it like it is I wish I could lie to you but I can’t. All the things we say that are valuable, like Gold and Jewels you could find walking down the street on the sidewalk, or sitting on a bus seat. So even the things we say are important…aren’t! Everything in this country is always and will always be about MONEY!

Personally, I am so tired of the; me-against-you mentality, that no one here ever says…but everyone here realizes exists.

Where everything and everyone is throw away…and people love seeing other people doing badly, no they don’t just love it in America…they REALLY love it (even family members love seeing other family members doing badly), after which they’ll say; “oh, that poor so and so!” Which is all a phony play to actually give a shit, the only problem is nobody really does. This is a place where people worry about everything all the time. From jobs to money - to family - to friends, and everybody is always constantly worried about losing everything here under the great American Apple Pie.

Do I want to escape this backward way of being? Well I can tell you this; I don’t believe that I was born to become any employer’s, working-class-slave. I’m a slave that becomes an asset and not an actual employee (where I’m respected). In America I constantly sit and worry, if this day will be the last day, in which I will have a job…for this or that punk-corporation. Where does it end? I mean all of the madness?

My Grandfather and my family members before me never had to live this way…remember the 70’s what happened to that mentality? Where all you needed was love? Whatever happened to the love? Where did it go? Why were people so nice to me when I said to them; “can I give you a big hug?” Maybe they needed a hug that day? Or maybe there is so little-love left in America that any form of love to the unloved can and will brighten there lonely days? Another problem people are forgotten here…they become shut-in’s and forgotten. Another American tragedy!

All the things that I know are happening here, I don’t want to live this way for the rest of my life! Just existing and not really living any type of real-life, while alive in America…or maybe, it’s just the nerdy yuppies of the Valley that have this; all for me attitude? All I ever hear is my family, my life, my home and the up-yours mentality! Have people stopped caring about other people these days? Well here’s the scary part people…if we stop caring about each other what are we going to do, when we actually have to come together to save each other? Remember the Holocaust?

That’s when we’ll all sit back and wonder why Billy Bob went and shoot all those people at the mini-mart? Isn’t the reason pretty self-explanatory? The reason is it’s because he never got a chance, and the chances that he did get where whipped-out from under him, by a jealous hateful co-worker, who was a power junkie…that had something to prove and picked him to prove it. These monster’s excuses will always be; “we gave him a chance! We can’t understand why he’s upset?” Did they really give him a chance? Or did they only give him a taste at a chance? I don’t think that they gave him a real chance, they pulled the rug out from under his feet, and then said; oh and by the way…we’ll give you a good reference. These monsters are the same people, who get shoot by those same crazy people, and as they are breathing their last breaths. They can’t for the live of them, figure out why such a bad-end happened to them as their main last thought.

Yes that was a worst case-scenario…but really, we have become a very numb, uncompassionate, uncaring, unsympathetic, society. I tell it like it is…oh yea, some of us will fight the powers that be. We’ll wave our banners of support; we’ll march with about as much passion as someone with a lobotomy. Then we will scream at the top of our lungs…yes we did something? Did we? Did this march or that one really change anything? Or are we still that same-group of ungrateful f*cks we’ve always been? As soon as the dust clears we’ll be back at our selfishness and capitalistic ways.  I don’t want to be jaded! I don’t want to seem Anti-American either.

My only question is why can’t we be kinder and judge-people based on their worth; not the color of their skin, what they’ve done in their pasts, how rich they are or aren’t, if they’re poor, or because of any other type of bias we may have against them. They might even be ill or homeless? Either way…we won’t give them a chance! They’ll lose everything they have, and wind up sleeping in our malls parking lot, just like one woman I saw. All in the name of capitalism! Capitalism is where the few have everything; while they laugh at the ones that don’t. These are the same people who love turning people into these shells of people, they love turning people homeless, and jobless because it gives them power. It’s the type of power that money can’t buy, it’s the destruction of another person.

My Grandfather came to California to work for N.A.S.A…with only two college classes under his belt, and with a whole lot of enthusiasm, he achieved his goals, and then went on to buy the parts for the first space shuttle to land on the Moon. Will I be able to say the same…? Will any of us be able to say the same?

Those types of American opportunities are dead and gone! Now everybody in America wants to be the next big winner on American Idol, or they want to win the lotto, or become a rock or rap star.  You or I will never have my Grandfather’s opportunities without spending thousands and thousands of dollars in college and or graduate schools. I really believe that the American dream is dead, and I believe that we’ve all allowed, threw our sheepish ways, by allowing our Politicians to take the wheel…to kill that dream! Our kids will soon have even worse lives then we did! They’ll have no hope of ever owning or dreaming of owning their own homes, and wasn’t that why the first settlers who came to America escaped from England in the first place? Wasn’t that escape made from England so that they could own property? Oh and wasn’t it also to escape from the Aristocrats…well it didn’t take long for them to destroy the American-dream in the New land…did it?

Silvia and the Buzard III

written by Linda Mains
     

      Christian was setting at his favorite chair in his high priced bachelor pad. It was a female contributor who had contributed the funds for him to live there. She was ugly, she had no personality, he couldn’t stand her, he dreamed of any other woman, while having sex with her to get his bills paid. Sometimes just the funky-smell of her cigarettes, breath and perfume…would immediately send him to the bathroom, to puke after she left. Although he had to stop and think how lucky he was, to have such a beautiful town house in such a screwed up economy. He really had missed Silvia, and he could still remember the smell of her hair, after they had gotten together yesterday. She wasn’t fake like most of the women he knew, and all about money; she made him feel good, real, worthy…while still being one of the sexiest women he had ever met, and been lucky enough to bed. He sighed because deep down inside he knew by the look on her face, when they had their rendezvous, she was somewhere else, but once she loosened up; she finally got into him. Forgetting about the negative situation she was trapped in. He strutted to his new, and shiny, refrigerator that his rich – benefactor had given him, and he shook a little by what he had been forced to do to get it. So he texted Sylvia at her station at her work, because he didn’t want to leave a message on her cell phone, he knew how crazy Jeremy was. He knew what and who she was dealing with, and he also knew about the violent situation with her husband. What made the situation even worse was at one time they had been high-school buddies.

       They were almost best friends in High School; it was funny, because they had always both been attracted to Sylvia. That’s why Jeremy pulled away his friendship from Christian; he always knew he’d been after his girl. If only Jeremy could somehow be taken out of Christians happy picture, or could have died in the war; the thought brought a happy smile of pleasure to his face. He loved Sylvia, and had been in love with her, ever since High School, he just wished that Jeremy was out of the picture. Wasn’t the suicide rate amongst Veterans high? Christian scratched his head, he sat on the edge of his bed, while watching the playboy channel, and that’s when he thought about Sylvia. Sylvia had reddish blond hair, and freckles, he loved freckles, she had them everywhere, on every part of her body, and he had tried while they were making love to play connect the dots with her freckles and his tong. Making trails with his tong down her creamy freckled colored body. He needed her, he wanted her, and he unlike Jeremy wasn’t so emotionally messed-up from the war that he needed to verbally abuse her, or beat her, he new how to treat a woman! He hated Jeremy for laying hands on her, he wanted him dead, had envisioned just how he’d kill the coward. He guessed that was something that Jeremy had forgotten in war which was how to treat a real woman. Not the little girls that he had always been into, girls that couldn’t be seen in short skirts or the police would pull him over and ask for their I.D’s. It was sick, God if only she would leave him? She’s never going to leave him! What am I to her? I just want her so badly!

      Christian busy at that moment, he was attempting to put his socks on, while thinking of the smell of her, the softness of her hair, and those crazy lavender eyes, they were mystifyingly beautiful. He sat there and wondered how do dead beat losers…who take that vow of being savior to the country; always wind up with the girl? So many of his friends had lost chicks to military guys, he just couldn’t figure it out. He was sexy, well hung, had killer-looks just like Jeremy…maybe his blond hair, was a little-lighter than Jeremy’s, but that never stopped women from throwing themselves at him. He could chase women with the best of them, he knew that. But for the life of himself he just couldn’t figure it out; why he kept losing out on the loves of his life, two so far, too 2 hot headed ex-military guys? He needed some release so he headed to the bathroom, with the used copy of Penthouse. After which he got dressed, buttoned his shirt, grabbed his keys and punched his Ferrari gas-peddle and put it to the metal, while blasting A.C.D.C.

      Silvia was answering calls at work, when she checked her inbox messages…she smiled, as she gently pushed her hair out of her eyes, trying to avoid getting her hair in her reddest of red lip glosses. It was Christian. She wanted him, again and again…she loved her husband, but she was finding it harder and harder; to get any real affection or passion out of him.

      She sat there at her job caught in a fantasy about Christian, she got his message, and she called from the office room, so his call couldn’t be traced on her cell phone. It felt wrong, but she couldn’t stop herself, from seeing him. Thank God he worked and lived next to her, and Thank God for lunch breaks, she thought to herself. She jumped in her car after work and stepped on the gas, and was headed to Christians for a quick rendezvous. 

     All she wanted was his caresses and kind words; she no-longer cared about what Mr. Buzzard said or didn’t say to her. It’s not like she couldn’t see Jeremy’s mental illness coming her way, his father was crazy, he was so crazy that Jeremy rarely saw his father, which was a sad fact for most of his life. His mother’s suicide had pushed his father over the edge! Jeremy visited him before going to Afghanistan as much as he could. While living there people were constantly trying to help his father. 

     None of the help ever worked with his paranoid – suicidal condition, it just continued to get worse. There was no hope for his father, till that fatal day; when he tiptoed out back, with a double barreled shot gun, and put the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger! The attendant, who ran the half-way house, found his father’s bloody mess of a head all over the back yard. So did it surprise her that everyone saw Jeremy’s crazy coming, and then to top everything off, he wanted to join the military and fight in Afghanistan…he made no logical sense. Meanwhile Mr. Buzzard, was sitting on his ass per-usual, while parking his lazy behind, in front of his T.V., turning on his video games.

      Sylvia hated his video games, because they really got him going, and he was already so ready to explode. It just seemed to her, that any type of violence, just made the whole situation worse. She set her keys on the coffee table…she dropped her clothes, piece by piece, as she made her way towards the bedroom, there was no need to worry because the kids had gone to bed long ago. So she grabbed a towel, and took a shower. While she was in the shower; she rubbed herself in a very sensual way, while pleasuring-herself as she thought about the two hours, which she had spent with Christian. It felt wrong, while at the same time it felt so good. She almost screamed out in ecstasy! At the last moment, she caught herself. If she had, Mr. Buzzard would be screaming, with his accusatory questions. He’d call her a whore, he’d call her a bad mother…stupid, disgusting, a woman with no morals, a woman with no honor…a woman who was a bad military wife!

     She knew that lovers of military women could become victims of violence…she had heard about that black guy tuned leather face in the marines. That guy went nuts and tied up the man who was having an affair with his wife! She knew how that tragedy went…how he cut up her lovers face, which made him into a human pumpkin…while taking his wife back to his house rapping her for hours. She knew he was crazy! She knew he could kill Christian! She knew but she wanted him so badly she couldn’t save him from herself. How much of her life did she have to give up for Mr. Buzzard anyway? Hadn’t she given him two beautiful children, hadn’t she waited for him while he was in Afghanistan for almost 6 months, until he was discharged because of a mental breakdown?

     Hadn’t she done enough for him, she was only 26 years old; by the time she had met Jeremy when she was 21-yrs-old, she was a full blown party girl, with a string of men courting her, and having sex with her. She loved it! She loved the dinners they took her too! She loved the parties they took her too! She loved the friends she had made, threw the rich and powerful men, that she had played with. They were all toys at her disposal…that was about when she started to feel guilty, and the religious believe, that she needed to settle down came upon her. It was like the Black Death that had come upon the Europeans. The first time her and Jeremy had sex, she became pregnant. Her parents forced marriage on them they found out. They had been neighbors and had been dating off and on since High School. It was funny to her when she thought how she was having an affair behind Jeremy’s back with a guy that was almost his best friend.

     Their relationship had grown stale, he never wanted to experiment sexually, and she was bored and needed someone who was fun in her life. She never shared with him any of her fantasies, fantasies about other women, or the swinging that she had heard about, but was never allowed to become a participant in. She felt tied down, and tied up; she couldn’t breathe and was suffocating under the pressure of a domesticity that she wasn’t sure she wanted. It was either see Christian or lose her mind, she could end up in a mental ward, or she could line up as many different prescriptions grade drugs as she could find, and take every last one to end her perpetual suffering at Jeremy’s A.K.A Mr. Buzzard’s hands. She didn’t have to tolerate the bad treatment …she could always take matters into her own hands by ending her own life; she had the power to end it whenever she wanted! But the children she couldn’t put them through hell, she cared about her kids. She didn’t want them to suffer, like their father had, because his mother had committed suicide.

     She knew they’d always ask, why the mother that they loved more than the sky; took her own life? Something that would stay with both kids, till the end of their little lives; she walked into their room, looked around, and then kissed each one on the cheek. Then slowly and tiredly, she walked up the stairway to their bedroom. Jeremy, A.K.A Mr. Buzzard, was sitting cross legged, on his bed naked; his steely-blue-grey eyes were begging her to come towards him. He grasped her by the waist, and her long reddish blond hair whipped him in the face! He got up, picked her off the bed, with his 6’’4 frame, and with both arms around her waist he gently threw her on the bed.

     He started taking off her clothes…pleasuring her like he had, before his mood swings, and anger stopped him from being sexual with her. He looked up at her from his point of pleasure, she looked down at him, and he gave her that sexy grin, which she had come to love…maybe, just maybe, he was normal again. He crawled up to her face; put both his hands around her face, and told her he loved her. He reached over to turn off the lamp and in the dark he became very passionate with her, until they both rolled over satisfied. She was confused; maybe his male Spiddy senses had gone off and started to tingle. She wasn’t sure…but for a moment, she dreamt that the old-him was back. Maybe Mr. Buzzard was gone for good?

TO BE CONTINUED

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Mr. Buzzard IIII

Written By Linda Mains

Jeremy was in another one of his cold-stares, blank-expressionless moods…he was surrounded by the ghosts of his past, a past he couldn’t escape. At this moment in time he was currently – preoccupied with a dark mood. While at the same time, he was trapped in his four walled prison, a self created prison, that couldn’t be escaped from.

While trying to figure out what to do about his boring hum-drum life, but due to being so emotionally compromised from a dark past of war, and because he had been molested by an uncle, he could not attend an on-campus college – but his psychiatrist had mentioned that on-line courses online, might be the answer. Although he often wondered if the stress from the classes were doing him more harm than good?

Meanwhile Silvia was attempting to tip-toe around Mr. Buzzard A.K.A the big-monster…that was just out of view in Jeremy. He was sulking, and Silvia knew that that meant to tread lightly around Jeremy, before he flipped out, and became Mr. Buzzard. All she ever wanted was his love and respect, but all she ever received lately while she was around him; were his cut-downs, belittlement, slaps, pushes and punches. She had been receiving more and more of that kind of treatment in the last couple of months. She was really beginning to believe that he enjoyed hurting her, to release the pressure that he constantly felt, the anger, the ever rising tide of discontent with his life, which he could never feel better about. It was a pressure that she realized came from his own distorted reality; all the nightmares from the past were rearing in Jeremy’s head, which would turn him into Mr. Buzzard!

Since Jeremy had no real life of his own, he prodded Silvia, rode her, exploited her kindness, and treated her like a child. She was completely subservient around him, and she hated what he had turned her life into! Jeremy robbed her of any security, he never confided in her, like loving husbands do…because military life had taken the respect that he had had for women away. He no longer cared how they felt or what they thought, he believed that all women should be kept in one spot, and that spot was their place! Jeremy hadn’t loved Silvia for months...so late at night when Jeremy couldn’t hear, Silvia wept bitterly over never being able to receive the love that she so desperately yearned for; pulling their pink and white comforter even closer to her face to hide her sobs.

All of a sudden Silvia’s two children; Sarah and Billy ran into the room. Billy ran up to her to ask her; “what’s wrong mommy?” Shhhh! Nothing! Is it daddy? No Sarah it’s not! Knowing that it was but she didn’t want to upset her daughter. Come on guys go back to bed and go to sleep. OK mommy we love you, good night! Billy ran up to Silvia and kissed her on the cheek, then Billy and Sarah walked out of the bedroom and went to their rooms and went to sleep.


To Be continued

Will Justice Ever be Served in the U.S.?

written by Linda Mains

OK, today I'm going to write about 3 diffrent stories that I've read about...neither pertane to each other, except, that all of these stories are about justice or the lack there of. Did anyone hear about the 9-yr -old Washington boy who had a 45 caliber handgun in his backpack? Anyway the father of this boy said: "He's a good kid. It's all I can say," said Patrick Cochran. "I apologize to the family of that girl. I really do." (cbsnews.com) The kid was crying while wearing an orange jail jump-suit. This kid knew what he had done was wrong, and had written a letter apologizing to the family of the little girl he had accidentally shot. So my main question is; "who is responsible?" I believe that the parents are responsible for not having that gun locked up. To ruin a child's life for accidentally doing anything screams "wrong!" Which also makes the U.S judicial system no better than a system ruled by principality. Where is the justice in ruining child's life? This scenario almost reminds me of the story about the boy whose a character in Las Miserables; he stole a loaf of bread because he was hungry, and received 20 years in prison. Does that seem fair to you?

So lets compare and contrast another similar case with the case above...shall we? OK, so a white man, who supposedly get in an argument with a black man in Florida, becomes enraged after that fight. Now this man followed the victim before this supposed fight broke out. So what did the perpetrator of this crime go and do? He shot a youth, who was black, dead! He did it on purpose because he didn't have to kill the victim. He could have shot him anywhere but where he shot him...which was a fatal shot. Anyway...a 9yr old has a gun that accidentally goes off, and wounds and might end that child's life. He was sent to jail and is doing hard time right now. Meanwhile a white man who has already obviously screwed up with his anger problems, to a point were there is no coming back. So how did this MAN escape from going to jail, while this "BOY" didn't? Let me explain to you what I know about the judicial system, from first hand experience. Now I was abused, so I had to go into hiding while my ex-boyfriend was searching for me and his son. Anyway, I met a girl, who was in hiding from her ex-boyfriend too, the only difference between her and I was; she was dating a police chiefs son, and had to be moved from three different battered womens shelters...because her ex-boyfriends father, was using his authority, to search for them. He was also using his authority to keep her ex-boyfriend out of jail. I did hear that the "real-reason" that the criminal in Florida did not receive any jail-time, was because his uncle had been a judge. You make the call...do you think anyone of us, or that 9 yr old boy, could escape justice so easily? I think not! This screams injustice, but it's not a race thing, injustice is happening everywhere, and can happen to anyone - regardless of race.

My next topic to compare and contrast, was a story I had read about one of the victims fathers of 9/11 going to Guantanamo Bay, to sit and watch the hearing of the two supposed perpetrators. Perpetrators who where supposed to be the "real" master-minds, behind that horrible event in history. Here's the thing about automatically judging anyone because you lost a family member. Did this father think, maybe, just maybe...he might be WRONG? Now I met the Prince of Saudi Arabia two days before this monstrous, malodorous event took place, and he told me that he had "TOP SECRETE" business in New York. Now did most of you reading this know about this? I bet most of you didn't know that the Saudi - Royal family was in America during 9/11. It's the easiest thing to do, to use the poor, and uneducated, as scapegoats to escape justice. Yes, you can sweep all kinds of truths about what is really going on, right under our noses by doing accusing, and sentencing the poor to life in prison. Do I believe that those 2 prisoners are responsible for the attacks on 9/11? NO! Why? Because for that type of an event to occur, you would need billions of dollars to make it happen, and easy access to a type of high-grade explosive, that only someone within the highest ranks of the military could have access too. So no, I don't believe that any uneducated terrorist, could ever have pulled this caper off alone. My only point with this part of my story is...that most people will blindly follow what ever line of bull-crap that is fed to them. Especially the loved ones and family's of said victims. Rather than taking the time to think; maybe this or that person is becoming a scapegoat to appease an angry crowd. Yes, 9/11 was the most horrible thing to happen during our lifetimes, but we rushed to war before looking at all of the facts of that case, and the U.S. also rushed to judgement in this case. We all have been blindly lead, into believing that a terrorist group, which was so powerful, had worked all by itself, to bring about the destruction of 3 buildings all on the same day? WAKE UP!

Our judicial system is BROKEN! It must be fixed, so no-more weeping children, will be faced with hard times, and also so that people who get shot by people who want to kill them for no reason, will go to jail when they are supposed to.  Also justice needs to be served so that places like Guantanamo Bay will be shut down...and the real people behind 9/11 will face justice. Will justice and the the justice system ever be fixed during my life time; probably not? Not unless people stop rushing to judgement, and start looking at the facts behind these crimes. Crimes are not about race or any other factors, they are about evidence and facts, that's all they are about. Crimes are also not about "feelings," what I or you think about 9/11, that 9 year old boy in Washington, or about that man who murdered that kid in Florida is irrelevant. What is important is justice! Especially when someone who is still alive might face the rest of their life's in prison. Sentimentality, and anger, are natural, but locking someone away for years, because someone lost their family member somewhere to appease the family members of the victims is wrong! Justice needs to be served, and the right people need to be sentenced, for the crimes that they actually commit. No one should have to go to jail, to appease anyone, cases should be based in facts, and people should be convicted on those facts...not on sentiment, emotion, or feelings.

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What's UP with Race

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Race has become a metaphorical - a way of referring to and disusing forces,events, classes,and expressions of social decay and economic division far more threatening to the body politic than biological "race" ever was. Toni Morison, Playing in the Dark.

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The Apocalypse and Oil

Written by Linda Mains

Sorry to all my friends but my Early American Lit class is kicking my butt with all the reading and writing while I'm going to work 6 days a week. I haven't been keeping up with this site. As soon as spring break comes along I sure as hell will be updating as much as my little heart desires.

Anyway why doesn't the main stream media ever mention Ron Paul?

They mention every other candidate...so now Santorum is pimping the Freedom thing, a libertarian I feel like I could trust A.K.A Ron Paul...but a Republican telling me that he's for freedom when President Bush got  us in the Iraq war over weapons of mass destruction? Where were those weapons? Easy answer they where "NO WHERE" because Sudan Husein had looked for fuel rods or nuclear juice 10 years prior to us jumping in that war.  

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So I was reading a story tonight about a woman who wrote about her tribe before they where rounded up and dragged off their land onto reservations in the middle of winter. Anyway she wrote; America only care about what they can take from the people they are attacking. Sound familiar? Iraq, next Iran, it's called oil, oil, oil, pillage and displace the poor and make them the bad guys. Sound familiar, lets make the American Indian the bad guys then we can steal their land. Oh lets drag Africans off their lands well call them black devils and savages that way we won't feel any pity once they are our slaves. Doesn't the way America's thought process has been going, oh say, for the last 200 years, and we've done all this damage? God! We aren't even as old as say ROME was when it fell and we've done twice as much damage. Unless giving blankets infected with small pox, isn't a crime...or killing people simply because they won't take Christianity on, A.K.A the American Indian isn't a crime? We are just as vicious as the Ancient Romans where, and if we wouldn't have associated crucification with Jesus back in the day...I'm pretty sure somebody would of wound up on a cross, Roman Style.

Oh wait didn't the KKK do that? Oh they only attacked and beat and burn crosses they didn't actually hang anyone on a cross...did they?

All I'm saying is that we (the U.S) has become the biggest shit-starting nation in the world, and maybe your not worried about what our BIG BROTHER government is doing or planing to do to the people in other nations...but maybe you should splash some watter on your face and "WAKE UP!" If we start a war with Iran, we aren't just going to drop a few bombs and escape a shit-storm, it will be another Iraq or something worse. And we're going to attack them, because they might have the ability to make a nuclear bomb? My only question is; does anyone have any proof that they have that capability to make those weapons. Or is this just another excuse for our war-mongering nation to come up with an excuse to get more war contracts...to make more money on more innocent peoples deaths.  Plus wouldn't that stop the Iranian government from changing their monetary system from the American dollar to oh lets say the Euro, or some other form of money exchange. Something that would make our Regime seem less then all powerful in the eyes of the world.

My other only problem with this is, the world is running out of oil...and won't be able to accommodated the 60,000 barrels a day that our needed for this country to escape a total social and economic melt down. A melt down which will make the Great Depression a really small event  in comparison. We need to change our political system to something smaller and more sustainable then the mega-farm, and mega capitalistic ways that we have adopted. We are Darwinism in action because without oil we will be looking at the apocalypse.  

Hairy the Space Alien Kidnaps President Obama

By Linda Mains

Chuck was enjoying his luxurious new pad, that was donated by his new Alien friend Hairy…ha, ha, Hairy the Alien he thought to himself, and then he picked up his faithful bong and proceeded to snap it. While he was snapping it, he pondered just how wonderful it must be to be an Alien, without all of the grinds that humans have. He was in a blissful, pot induced, daze; that was when he reached for his latest video game, Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 3…which was when he fell asleep, on his giant white luxury Alien couch…which was made out of some type of carcass that he had never felt before. He fell asleep thinking my life rocks!

Meanwhile in space; Hairy was watching one of his 5 children for his stay at work late wife, his 3-yr-old had gotten away from him. What actually happened was Hairy had forgotten about the 3-yr-old, who Hairy affectionately called little Bo-Bo, he was happily playing with their space dog named Cosmo in the ships transport room. Bo-Bo was a dog who looked like a giant version of a hamster and a pit-bull-lizard...he was a very loyal creature. He loved those kids, while protecting them with his space doggy life. The 3-yr-old was playing with the transporter rooms many knobs and buttons.  Cosmo was standing right under the spot on the platform, which transported anything anywhere in the galaxy. That’s when it happened…all of a sudden a pushed button activated the giant transporter; thats when Harries loving space dog disappeared. Little Bo–Bo started crying and threw one of his famous 3-yr-old tantrums. Hairy ran into the transporter room…picked up his 3-yr-old…looked at him, and asked him; what happened to Cosmo? Daddy…I hit the big button and Cosmo go puff! WHAW! Oh it’s OK, well get Cosmo back little Bo-Bo. I want my Cosmo!

Now Hairy was in a real dilemma; he had to get the space dog back, before his controlling wife came home, a woman who made his sound holes hurt with all of her verbally abusive bull crap. She did this whenever anything went wrong, or just because she had nothing better to do then to make his life a  completely and utter hell (he hated and loved that woman). She wasn’t expected back to the spaceship for 3 days, because on Harries planet every one lived in their space ships all over the galaxy. They commuted all over the galaxy for work. In this case it worked out great for Hairy, because his bitchy, control-freak wife…wouldn’t be home for another 5 days. He loved that fact because no matter how much he loved that bitch, he couldn't stand being around her, she really wasn't worth the pain but she was the mother of his kids. All Hairy had to do now was to find out exactly where little Bo–Bo had sent the family dog. He went to his transporters logs…he searched threw his hologram records. Then he fingered threw his logs with his 3 big alien fingers, until he finally found where Cosmo had been sent. Ahhhh…he’s on earth in the, “white house?” The Misses is really going to kill me for this one, if I don't get him back. How the hell did Cosmo get there? Oh I know…my teenage daughter with her earth political science class? So Hairy got on the sap phone, which would be like a cell phone on earth, and called his daughter. Marcella? Yes Dad? Did you disturb the settings on the transporter for some reason? Um how much trouble am I in? Well that depends on what happened to Cosmo. Oh my Orphan-strange-love dad! Is Cosmo Ok? What happened to him? Marcella remain calm, but for some reason Cosmo has been transported to the White House in America; do you know exactly why that is Marcella? Oh yea Dad, I wanted to do a report on America’s latest President, President Barack Obama. As if her answer made any sense…teenagers!  Marcella you should have asked me! Yea dad I know…your breaking up dad….she lipped the noise shhhhhhh, and hung up.

OK, at least I know where Cosmo is now. I'll send down a tracker beam to find him…so Hairy went and did the necessary figures on his space computer, then he sent down a beam where Cosmo was to fetch him back to the ship. Cosmo was actually sniffing around in the White House’s T.V family rooms floor; it was around 3 A.M. earth time at that moment.

President Obama had been having a rough sleep he had been tossing and turning. While his wife was snoring away, that’s when he heard the sound. What’s that? I had better go find out what the hell that noise was…maybe, I should call my security agents…forget that, they’re probably busy with their foreign prostitutes. So President Obama slipped on his slippers and headed down the stairs, and towards the family room…that’s when he felt, then heard, an odd sickening sound, and feeling beneath his feet. I’m going to let the house maids know that leaving rotten-stuff on the floor in the T.V. room is unacceptable. I’d better turn on the light, to see what the hell is going on.

So President Obama headed for the light switch. Then he proceeded to look on the floor, he saw a giant green turd on the floor! This turd was different it looked really weird...that had his slipper mark in the middle of it. OK what is going on? Just as he thought that, a beam was meant to track Harries dog too fetch him back to the ship, found President. In an instant President Obama was gone. Although Harries dog Cosmo came out of hiding and stopped whimpering only long enough, to see the strange thing standing on two legs disappear.

President Obama re-appeared standing in front of Hairy in Harries transporter room. President Obama said to Hairy, “who the heck are you?” Oh! I’m the Alien from outer-space, that just accidently kidnapped you. Well Mr. Space Alien, you might want to put me back…I am a very important person. I realize that! My names not space alien it’s actually Hairy. OK Hairy! Why did you accidently kidnap me? My 3-yr-old who I affectionately call Bo–Bo pushed the wrong button, and sent the family pet down to earth. Actually my dog was sent to what you call your family room. Oh those darn kids! They'll do stuff like that sometimes! So I will fix the problem Commander and Chief, as you’re known on Earth.  Hey hold on Hairy…since you can do all this…is there any way you can make a double of me? Then you could send him to the White House to be me, so I can take a break from being President. Why? Oh it’s a grind being the Commander and Chief! You wouldn't believe the messed up things I have to tolerate to be President. OK! There’s only one stipulation President Obama. You can never mention my existence to anyone ever…and, you don’t know about my world. Can you keep that promise? Alright! It's a deal! Let’s shake and Obama offered his hand in a deal making handshake. So Hairy commenced with the Presidents plans of taking a space break by building his cyborg-clone. Can you make him a little less great then me? I kind of want my wife to miss me? Done! Hairy finally finished making Obama's alien clone. Hairy then went and got his dog back with the right tracking beam. He simultaneously sent the clone of Obama in Obama’s place to the White House to take over. Hairy got the feeling that this Presidential clone was a really bad idea.

To be continued…

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Jesus The Man

Tomorrow is crucifixion day, which to me is on the same path a Turkey day, both the Turkey and Jesus sacrificed themselves for the betterment of humanity.

I would love to say I agree with giving a day of worship to the crucifixion of any man...but I can not! To me murder is murder, and to all the victims who have been sentenced to death for crimes that they did not commit, or because they where murdered during the Holocaust: screams "wrong" to me!. I believe that worshiping anyone's brutal-murder is a crime within and of itself. Under the see no evil, hear no evil, think no evil thoughts, that  most of us where taught during early childhood.

I bet a lot of Christians will be watching the Passion movie this Easter...I believe that the other half of my race, has been persecuted enough, and that Mel Gibson, did not "think" before making such a violent movie.

How many times in that movie does poor Jesus need to be killed so that Christians will realize: "what I'm watching is upsetting, and disturbing me, and that no human being, needs to be beaten to a bloody pulp for any reason!" We have all been passed down this Christian dogma, which I have always found to be very Macabre and bizarre.

Now not every Christian church, is into hanging Jesus on a cross, like so many denominations of Christianity seems to be. Some denominations say; "let us remember the man for his ACTS of kindness and compassion." Lets not forget who, and what, Jesus actually represented; he did not represent, and was not a victim! He was what every man should work to become, he gave us the tools to better our lives, that's really who Jesus was.

I really don't believe, after reading so much about Jesus, that he would want the movie the Passion to be shown. Why? Because, it promotes hate, and violence, against the people that Jesus loved, which was the Jewish race. Knowing what I know about God, I prey for Jesus, God knows all, and knew that the religion, that Jesus represented would eventually be spread by word of mouth, threw a man named Paul...an act that would bring about the Inquisition along with the death of millions.  Along with the replaying of the Passion, which did bring about the hate and murderous acts during the Holocaust. I am very gifted and have visions; Jesus sits to the right of God, but not in the thrown that he wanted to sit on. He sits in a wooden thrown with the words; "king of the Jews!" His own race, walks by his thrown laughing at him and pointing, while saying; "King of the Jews?". Something that saddens me beyond all words. So I prey for Jesus, and not too him, I have tried threw-out my life; time and time again, to emulate the mans words into action. Although his religion did get millions of my people murdered, he is still a brother to me, and to the Jewish race. Jesus must be forgiven by the same race, that had condemned him to death, choosing him to die, over a real murderer.

I do not judge him or anyone, and neither will I judge Jesus a man, who may be related to my own Jewish family in some way. He may not have died an actual physical death, which would be alright by me, as my Grandmother said; "he had two kids and lived to be an old man." I have neither hatred or any-type of misunderstanding, of what Jesus the man had wanted his people to become...he wanted them to become better, and more accepting people. A people who would put away their social-differences. He wanted to stop that social divide, and bridge the gap that the Jewish people had back then amongst each other, and still have amongst each other today. So in one way he failed, because even though the Israelite's have gone threw so much, they are still morally, and socially divided as a religious group.

I told one Jewish man who believed himself to be a scholar...that in heaven all the Jewish race is together, and he screamed at me; "that is impossible! You have no idea what you are talking about!" He went on to say, that there is two different groups of Israelite's, which have been fighting for century's, and that they would never come together, or even want to be around each other, on earth or in heaven." My answer to him was; "look it was a vision, if you have a problem with what I've seen regarding Heaven in my vision - then take it up with God!"

Do I want to see, what I believe Jesus wanted to see amongst his people? Which was the actual brotherhood of his race, where everyone is included, and certain members are not excluded in Judaism. Where nobody is excluded based on, which side they may be on, who their mothers might have been and so on...yes I would! I believe that's all that Jesus really wanted...I don't believe, that he was looking out for any gentile at that time, when he came out and preached to the Israelite's at that time.

Paul did something good by spreading what he called; "the good news." He promoted something which would eventually bring about a certain kind of community amongst millions of people, and selfless help, for thousands of poverty stricken people.

Although the Christian religion has brought about millions of peoples death's, even some of the brightest thinkers that where ever born, where killed because of Christianity. Christianity has also helped millions of people as well. Personally the only problem I have with Christianity, is the sacrifice of self; no one, should ever have to sacrifice themselves to prove anything! Unless it was during an act of valor, to save someones life, from the mortar of a grenade. Crucifixion....I will never really be able to understand, and I don't believe, that it really brings anything positive to the table, regarding spirituality.

I also don't believe that Jesus Christ himself would have wanted to be remembered in that way! I also don't believe, that any human being would ever want to be remembered in such a horrible way. Lets take Jesus down from the cross, forgive him, and remember the good deeds that he did for mankind.

I still want to wish all my Christian readers a happy Easter, but I believe we should all say a prayer for Jesus...because, when it comes to God, you can never be careful enough.

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Harry the Aliens - Arch Enemy - Plans Kidnapping Obama!

By Linda Mains

So Hairy was trying to figure out at that particular moment if President Obama was going to out stay his welcome…but at the same time, he really did think it was “really insane” to have a live human President hanging out with him at his alien pad.

Cosmo was back with the beam of light tracker, which was sent to the White house to fetch him back. Currently he was looking at the rather clumsy-looking, cream-colored, life-form that was standing in front of him. President Obama was looking at him, “hey, do all your dog’s look like this?” Oh our dogs are just like your Earth dogs, they come in all shapes and sizes. Too bad I can never mention meeting you Hairy; otherwise we could have a great intergalactic-dog-business, between the Earth and your planet; what’s the name of your planet anyway? Oh it’s Alpha Century, excuse my rudeness.

You’re my host here on this ship, and I’m the guest, it’s really no problem…I’m just really glad to be away from the Earths drama, and all those stupid Republicans anyway.

Excuse me but why are you upset with what you call Republicans? Is what you call Republicans another life form?

Oh no, in our world there are different countries, I come from America. I’m the President in America; some call me Commander and chief, personally I just love that. I’m in control of the House of Representatives, and some other really boring-important-political things. Now the Republican members whom make up half of that house, are some of the dumbest Party members in our government…they’re the Republicans.

May I ask you why they are dumb? Oh, that’s an easy one…they’re making their stance against me to win the Presidential election. They’re all about women’s rights and something we call abortion, as some of their main-points to win over the other “retards” we call REAL RIGHTWINGED REPUBLICANS.

What is Abortion? Only answer that question if you don’t mind me asking. Hairy that’s when a woman who doesn’t want a baby usually because she can’t afford to take care of it, or for some other dire reason…has it surgically sucked out of her body. Hairy put his tree fingered hand to his mouth (gasping), while looking at his youngest kid sitting on the couch…feeling sick to his stomach; I really wish I wouldn’t have asked you that.   

In the morning the cloned President woke up next to his loving wife and said; in a very robotic way, “I am hungry, must have food, you are woman! Go get me my food!” Michele looked at him, oh my God what the hell is wrong with him this morning? So she got up out of bed slipped on her slippers, then went down the long hall, and down the stairs to call on the servants to tell them; Olga, Obamas in one of his special-moods this morning, can you get him his favorite…he’s got a big meeting and he really needs to snap out of, whatever is bothering him this morning. He’s acting really weird. OK, Misses Obama, I will get the breakfast A.S.A.P…I’m on it. So the maid went running to the White House kitchen, to make President Obama’s breakfast.

Harries daughter finally got home and was immediately star-struck by President Obama…Daddy, Daddy, is that who I think it is? Yes Yamazin it is! Nice dad…can I talk to him. Yes…only for a moment. He’s our guest right Daddy…you didn’t abduct him, did you? No Yamazin I didn’t, actually, he wanted to take a vacation from what he calls those stupid Republicans. What’s a Republican daddy? Well it’s some really complicated Earth stuff - that gives me a freeze pain in my central lobe.

Meanwhile on Earth; there was a problem in the White House, because the cloned Obama didn’t want to take a shower, an was in the process of running around the White house almost naked.

Michele was thinking; I’m so glad the kids are visiting their Grandmother right now. So she yelled at Obama, "get your naked black-ass back in here!" Then she caught herself, did I just scream that? Well the secret service has just heard my black side before. Guess the secrets out now, and then she giggled to herself. While chasing who she thought was her husband around the White house.

At that moment one of President Obama’s advisers ran into the room. Michele what’s wrong with the President? David can you call the Vice President…I don’t think the President is going to make that meeting today.  Yea that boring one about catching some NO NAME who kills children and parents just because he likes killing, but just like the rest of America, I can’t remember his name to save my life; she thought to herself.

Far, far away in the distant reaches of the galaxy one of Harries arch-enemies, and biggest advisories was watching this whole event unfold. He just induced an evil plot to himself, to kidnap the real Obama off of Harries ship and turn the Earth-Obama-clone evil…blah, ha, ha, ha! I will finally get even with Hairy for stealing my Alien Princess from me, while he stood there rubbing his 3 fingered hands together.

The next day on Harries ship; Obama was eating a piece of space cheese, from Harries refrigerator and Hairy just stood there and watched. He couldn’t believe it. Obama, do you want to know what that cheese is made from?

Obama had this perplexed look on his face, and was in the middle of a deep thought, about just where the cheese, his stomach was about to digest came from. Hairy do I really want to know? I’ll tell you…on our planet a giant insect, that about 5-ft-high and resembles what your people call a water-bug. We milk this bug, and let the milk ripen for 3 years, until it turns into cheese. Hey as long as I don’t have to milk it…this cheese is great. I read that earth entities can’t handle foreign food. Well not this earth person and Obama continued to mac out on the alien cheese.

Two hours latter; as if the Hairy hadn’t been talking the gospel…President Obama was seen running to the bath room while Harries 3-yr-old watched pointed and laughed. Obama headed for Harries waist receptacle, known as the toilet to continuously vomit for 30 minutes.

To be continued…    

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Harries Evil Arch Enemy Continues.

By Linda Mains

After the long effects of food poisoning President Obama was led by Hairy to share a room with his youngest Bo – Bo. Cosmo the ever present protective friend had come to love the new found friend in this new life form that was standing in front of him. Obama reached down while sitting on the spare space-spider-netting that was hung between two beams in the room. Obama thought to himself…well, as for comfort there is something to be desired, but Harries a great host.

So Hairy came in to little Bo – Bo’s room carrying a suitcase that he pressed a button on and it became a small walk in closet. It had an electronic touch pad on it. What’s that Hairy? President Obama looked puzzled, and was staring at the bizarre looking closet. Oh, that’s an automatic dresser. On our Planet and in space our fashions change from day-to-day, so our scientists came up with an answer to this expensive problem with the automatic-dresser. How does it work Hairy? Well you put in your sizes, of shirts and pants…the colors that you prefer and your style preferences. Let me show you – then Hairy began to teach Obama how to use his clothes maker-dresser. So I press this button and it gets me the style and color and puff it appears? Yes it does…would you like me to show you again? No I think it registers can I type in pajamas and slippers? But of course you can. Did you like that? That was my T.V. taught lingo, we love watching earth T.V. up here. I bet you’d like to go to sleep? Good night and Hairy went over to Bo – Bo and kissed him good night, and gave his loving Cosmo a pat on the head before leaving the room.

Meanwhile a galaxy away Harries arch-enemy-Carlsbad was sitting at his desk covered in smashed Plutonium-Pearls planning an evil-diabolical plan to kidnap President Obama, and turn the crazy-clone evil while laughing; blah, ha, ha, ha! He rubbed his 3 fingered alien hands together in true evil alien style.

Chuck had been lovingly polishing his space alien counter-tops, in his Pre-made Alien pad. He was really enjoying himself and was listening to his tunes on his MP3 player. He was polishing and dancing, while reloading his bong every now and again. Then all of a sudden…he heard; come out with your hands up! He opened his front door to see 20 men in black-uniforms, standing in front of him – pointing military assault rifles at him. Chuck asked with a stoned-glazed-look; “what do you want?” Sir! Move your hands away from your sides, raise them above your head...slowly, and then he slowly walked towards the car. As Chuck walked towards the car, 20 FBI agents ran inside his house with boxes and gloves. Do I have the right to ask - what you guys are doing? Yes and no, we’ve had an incident happen at the White House, involving a space alien, and we need to talk to you about that. So the agent that had been talking to Chuck escorted him to the car, and drove Chuck back to the department to be interrogated to get necessary information that they wanted to explain the alien poop on the white house floor.

As Obama feel asleep listening to little Bo – Bo making the cutest baby sleeping noises, he felt relaxed and contented, which was something he hadn’t felt since taking on the most stressful job of his life. People, if it weren’t for the fact that I have to tolerate and deal with so many different types of annoying people…being President would be the best thing to be. The grass is always greener on the other side, he thought to himself and then he fell asleep. Right as he fell asleep little Bo – Bo let lose one of the loudest baby farts, that Obama had ever heard, he smiled and fell asleep.

Carlsbad beamed himself down to the White House and was standing over the Obama clone as he slept; he took out a hypodermic needle, and gave him a shot to make him stay asleep for the surgery. Then he gave the first lady a nerve-gas-sleeping-aid to keep her asleep as he worked his evil space alien magic. He got out his traveling operating tools, which were in his black-space-operating-bag, he put them on the table beside the clone, and with a miniature shaver shaved a tiny part at the back of the clone’s head, to implant a chip in his cloned-cyborg brain. He then took out his tiny-drill, and drilled threw his skull-cap. He began to implant the chip that would turn the clone evil, all that was left for him to do, was to get the automatic-healer that he never left home without…it was the neatest thing he owned. He had purchased it from Evil Aliens Are Us. They always had the latest and greatest things to help any evil alien accomplish even the most complicated of evil plans. So he grabbed his instant healer, and waved it over the cut on the clones head, and a green light shot out onto the fresh wound, a second later the wound was healed. Last but not least he had to cover the patch of missing hair with a tiny amount of fake hair that would last any shampooing. Finally, he was finished, and all that was left to do, was to activate the evil chip, a chip he invented himself, that would instantly turn the Obama clone into a doer of evil. So he got out his sensor for the chip, he pushed the green button to activate the chip; grabbed his black bag, and got out his space alien hover-craft-keys, pressed the red-button, and was transported back onto the ship.

To be continued…

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Silvia's Mr Buzzard

written by Linda Mains

His eyes were a steely blue, and his long and lean body glistened with sweat, as the sun beat down upon his bronzed body. She loved him, something she never understood. She tried to stopping herself, the whole while trying to explain her need for him to herself. He was nothing but trouble in her life; he was a lost soul, someone who needed her love, more than she ever needed him in her life. She was a spoiled brat from a rich and garishly snobbish upper crust family. A family she never felt tied too, she never felt that she had anything in common with those, loud, rude, and obnoxious people. She loved her brother he came from the east, that’s where he was born. He moved and left her as a 10 year old girl who would never see him again. He died; she knew that, although she’d still dream of him occasionally. Although the occasions hadn’t happened in a while, and the memories of him, were fading.

She was looking at her Husband’s glistening body in the sun. His arms were so strong, but his mind, it was his mind that was week. He suffered a long standing suffering. After the war his mind was no longer strong like it had been. He came back damaged. Yes, he was damaged, and yelled and screamed, about everything and anything. Still she could not deny that she loved him, adored him, worshiped him body and soul. All the time she wondered, wondered…why?

She looked at him with that look a yearning, yearning for the love he could no longer give her, and she turned to head back up the stony path in which she came. Her bonnet caught the wind, and blew off her head. She ran for it, and it was caught by his strong and manly hands. Her eyes caught his; she saw the sparkle of his teeth as he grinned. It was the same grin that transcended her to the highest highs. She remembered that grin from their first meeting on the train. It was a sunny day on the day she met him. She remembered their first meeting nearly two years prior. It was windy that day, just like it was as she ran after her hat before his strong hands grasped it out of the air.

He grasped it and barked at her; “why can’t you watch what you’re doing! You’re always pissing me off! Go get me a beer!” So she turned with her hat in her hands, she put it upon her head, and walked slowly, disappointingly away. All I ever wanted she thought to herself, was a kind and loving man. The luck of the draw always gave her the meanest guy around. When they met she couldn't wait, to see him, to be near him…his scent, the way his skin tasted when she kissed his neck. It was a courting even Kings and Queens of the past would be jealous of. So why did he stop loving her, stop praising her, and why was he so distant? She’d spend hours in his presence trying to get his attention, all for not. The only attention she ever got from him now was scolding’s, critical comments, or put downs. I used to love him so much she thought to herself; and now this?

It was the war that brought his bad moods, it was the war that scarred his body, and weekend his mind. He was damaged goods, left overs, buzzard meat…he was less than perfect, much less than perfect. She knew that, she could leave him and move on; she knew that! It was his constant out of control rages she couldn't stand. She had had enough, but because there were children in the picture, she couldn’t let go. She felt as tied to him as an anchor to a boat. But still she remembered, dreamed of him, who he was,who he used to be, that other man before the buzzard existed. Now she dreamed of a man she once loved. His hair was blond, his eyes were a sparkling blue, he was tan, he was fun, and he was dirty! She used to love dirty, but that went away, once she met Mr. Buzzard and he had gotten back from Afganistan.

Sylvia was at her little table in her bedroom reading her mail, while Mr. Buzzard was outside doing one of his many mundane, and asinine jobs around the house. She couldn’t believe that she was still attracted to a nut job; she couldn’t believe how domesticated she was. She hated domesticity, she was a party girl, she loved parties, the bigger the better. And here she was, sitting, growing older, ever older, while in the presence of Mr. Buzzard; with his beak growing ever bigger and louder!

It wasn’t just the fact the Mr. Buzzard annoyed her on a daily level; it was also the fact that Mr. Buzzard never shut up. He never kept quiet, and would rattle on when he was in a real rage…it was non-stop. She hated his voice, wanted it to stop! The war, if that dammed war wouldn’t of happened, my love, my joy, would still be normal. No more time for dreaming of what could be...this was reality, he was mental, damaged goods, no longer in the world of the normal…he lived amongst the people of the shade. He didn’t and couldn't trail in reality any longer. All he wanted was respect after the war, but when he got home he never found any, that's when his mind snapped like a twig.

She was afraid for her safety, but more than anything else she was concerned for him; keeping the sharp knives and scissors out of his reach. All the time thinking, if she’d open that door and found his dead body, eye’s wide staring up at her. She just never knew? She loved him, but she secretly feared him and his rage! His temper was growing worse by the day, by the hour, depending on what day it was. At first she thought he had another woman. Otherwise why was she dealing with so much displaced rage? Was the war really that bad? Did it really crack his mind like a broken egg? Puzzles were her favorite game as a kid, but at this moment in time, she was completely dumb founded by his mood swings. Was she trapped in the Wizard of Oz, with no one to tell her to click her red-slippers? Maybe if she was lucky, she’d wake up from the nightmare that had become her life?

She was done browsing the pile of useless junk-mail before her, life was all about him now, she’d given her life up for Mr. Buzzard…he was handsome she thought, but in the nightmare he made of her life, his being handsome wasn’t enough to cover all of her losses. Then she accidently trailed off and thought about him, her previous lover…the one who made her toes curl, the one that was passionate! The one that made her scream and beg, and scream some more! She missed him, the smell of him, the touch of him, the sound of him, his kindness in him. He was amazing, nothing like Mr. Buzzard, and that was when she climaxed.

Then she heard the screaming, the screaming, it was more of the same, day in and day out…more and more screaming! It pounded against her head, like the echo of his voice. She wanted him dead! But couldn’t admit it, not even to herself…he was sick! The war! The shells! The bodies! The flashbacks! Nightmares, he’d often wake up in a cold-sweat, agonizing over and over again with her, about what he’d done, what he had to do. All the body parts he kept envisioning in his mind, over and over again. Lately they came faster and faster too him, while the night terrors did too. He’d sit straight up in bed screaming, looking over at her. Baby! Baby! They came to kill me, I swear they did! That’s when she would get up out of bed, to go and get the medicine that the Physiatrist had prescribed for his mental-condition. What was the condition that he had, she was trying to think. Oh yea! That’s right! They told her he was sycophantic, but the Medicine only worked sometimes. When it did he became a vegetable! No good to nobody!

One day after her shift at the hair dressing place where she worked …she scrambled around at the bottom of her purse looking for some change. Mr. Buzzard was a true scavenger; every time she was paid he would take almost all of her money leaving her with 20 to 30 dollars weekly to survive on. All he ever did with the money was to drink it away! Or he’d buy his cheap Vodka and gulp it down, that’s when things would take a turn for the worst. When he was drunk that’s when he was really dangerous. She finally found her change and headed to the pay phone to make her call.

Pay phones where a curious thing to find in the rough valley area that she lived in. She finally found one, picked up the receiver, put the change in the slot, and dialed the numbers…slowly, one by one. She was nervous, calling, waiting for the ring. Then finally it rang, she held her breath, patiently, slowly; pick up, pick up, pick up she thought. Than finally he picked up…Hallo! She held her breath and said; Hallo? Oh my God is that, is that…Silvia? Yes! You remember me right Christian? Oh, of course I remember, how could I ever forget? You were, you were…the best…ever. “Really?” So what’s’ the call for Silvia? I thought you married that really handsome guy that you couldn't stop bragging about? Yea I did! But the war, you know the war Christian? Is something wrong Silvia? Well the reason I called was because I could never stop thinking about you. Are you still single Christian? As ever! Why? I really wanted to know if you wanted to meet up with me. Ok, you don’t have to ask me twice. So how is everything with you Silvia? Actually things could be a lot better, and they really aren't going so well. I just need your strong arms around me! Silvia stop, you know I’ve never stopped thinking about you either.

Meanwhile Mr. Buzzard was sitting there contemplating a war he could never forget, while he was cleaning his gun. Silvia walked in. You’ve been gone for 20 minutes, why? I needed a break…OK? You didn’t ask me permission to leave. WHERE WHERE YOU? I was out of this house, give me a break! She walked methodically up the stairs one by one till she reached the bedroom, she was angry at Mr. Buzzard when she laid down and she started to fantasize about her lover again, knowing She had a date with Christian. She was going to take the day off to make that happen. She thought to herself how much of a dullard Mr. Buzzard had turned into. God she wanted him dead…why did he have to come back from the war so damaged? Why? Now she was trapped to deal with the mental-midget that was sitting at the dinner table, wanting her to wait on him hand and foot. Yes it was all her fault! She was the one that married him, she was the one that said; I do for better or worse! Now all she could think of was Christian, and how he could take away her pain. She missed his sparkling blue eyes, and the sweat that dripped from his brow every time they made love. She wanted him sexually in a way that she had never wanted anybody else.

Passion is what she craved, and it was the biggest thing about Mr. Buzzard, that wasn’t there. She needed passion, passion, and more passion in her life, at work, in what she did, and who she saw. She had none now in the loveless-abbess she was trapped in. She was married but knew that the love for the man she now referred to as the Buzzard was over. He’d never leave her, and if he did, he’d follow her, stalk her, and hunt her like he had done 10 times prior. She knew she’d never be free, so all she could ever hope for from Christian was whenever a break from Mr. Buzzard could be found. She wanted Christian so badly she ached…ached for him! She was so faithful for years; and for what? For torture by his words and voice and violence…he didn’t love her anymore! He couldn’t he was damaged by shells, by bombs, by bullets, by dead bodies, by blown up body parts; that’s what he was obsessed with now, and that’s all he would ever be concerned about. It’s not like when she was in the room he ever paid any attention to her. He shut her out! He closed the swinging door on their relationship with his insanity. Could they be saved? She didn't know?

At that moment when she realized she was thinking it, she no longer cared. She ran the water in her bath tub…it was hot, and she decided to pamper herself, since her Buzzard never did. Bubbles and more bubbles, she stepped in; being careful not to scald herself with hot water, then she settled in the tub. She thought about Christian,he was dirty so dirty, she missed his dirty ways, his mouth, his tong…that’s when she realized she had fallen asleep, waking herself-up, before she slipped unconscious under the water.

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