Category Archives: Fiction

A Pause for Station Identification

Another excerpt from my most amazing chainsaw novel, Leather to the Corinthians. In time, I will have snappy audio downloads to complete your experience.

 

Welcome to my cult. I can see that you have been getting very comfortable here. I take one look at you and I think:

This kid is going places.

 

Hey, I don’t have to tell you that. I have no reason to flatter you. Still you can put that little baby in your pocket for one of those unhappy days when the world shits on you and then drops down for several teabags before calling your mom and asking her out on a date that will never happen. Your mother’s self-esteem stock will drop value, but I digress.

This cult, it’s like no other, and I know that you know that.

It’s the true cult of obsession. And where we sit, obsession is a good thing.

 

How do you spend your days? From the moment I rise, I start putting it out there. I have my multiple updates to share with the world, my adoring followers. I use every media channel available, and I have recently started Mental Mind Blogging, which is a fantastic way to spread your awesomeness. People subscribe to your thoughts.

There are many who are obsessed with me. They post their comments, write about me, compose tribute videos, forge holographic slash fictions, and smother me with their buttery love.

 

You could have this.

You could join in the obsession. You could have pundits wax poetically about your lunchtime choices, be the feature of blurbs and cameos.

 

You could have this.

You could have the t-shirts and the posters. You could have the squawkshow gigs and the book tours. You’re going places, kid.

You have to foster the obsession. Right place, right time. Location. Location. Location. You have to pull the strings, push the buttons, walk the walk.

But most of all, you have to be seen.

 

Their cameras are waiting. Their recorders are on. The moment I walk out the door, every breath, every step, every nose pick is documented. It can be a bit jarring at first, but to have a complete tongue bath of attention for doing nothing but walking to your overpriced exotic motor vehicle is a reward beyond value.

 

The obsession is intoxicating.

 

Of course, those folks have a healthy obsession. Money and fame of their own. You are the meat that puts the meat on the table. It’s the circle of life.

They are the conduit to those who will hang on every word and be mindlessly entertained by your trips to the grocery store and regular high colonics. Your shit is their salvation.

They have nothing to live for, they have no greatness to see in the mirror. So they live though you. They find their peace in their obsession with you. The folks outside your door are the vehicle that drives it all.

You will have many fans, many focal points of obsession if you follow my ways. You will have what I have, and maybe, just maybe more.

Careful though, there have been a few that thought stabbing me with a screwdriver was the most appropriate way to display their devotion to me. You might have a sniper or two, so watch your interactions.

It’s really just the cost of doing business, and believe me the business is good.

That look in your eye as I explain the virtues and pitfalls tells me all I need to know about you. You’re hungry and you’re on board. You need that love, you need that attention. You are starving for it. You have a big empty hole inside you and the only solution is the spackle of narcissistic fulfillment.

That’s why you’re here kid. That’s why you found me.

You have that hole, and no matter what you have used: mind-altering substances, flesh trade volunteers, copious consumption. No matter what you did, no matter what the solvent, the hole remained.

Hence, your obsession. And this is why you are here.

 

Welcome to my cult. It’s where you belong.

 

Here you will feed your obsession, and grow it to a healthy size. Here you will learn how to encourage the obsessions of others. You will learn how to trick the human mind into thinking that your mundane life is filled with profound moments that will fulfill them at the most highest levels and fuel their obsession.

It takes time, care, and coordination, but once you get going it’s pretty easy to manage. Sheeple are sheeple, and no offense, they will get obsessed with just about any muthafucka that got a headline.

You should be that muthafucka, I think you have the right stuff kid. Follow my lead, remember that bad PR is good PR, never let them see you sweat, get in trouble now and again to keep them guessing, and work in a redemption story to really grab them.

 

Welcome to my cult.

Their obsession will be your obsession.

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We Will Be Back Right After This…

Another rant from my novel…

 

Ok, I want you to do something for me. I want you to do it right now. Don’t give me any static.

"Warning" by jurvetson

Take a good look at the sign on the wall over there. You see it?

The sign reads: “THE RULES.”

Got yer tired eyes looking at the thing? Good. Here’s the deal, and it’s non-negotiable.

If you join the club, you gotta follow the rules. Otherwise, don’t join the club.

I know what you are going to do. You’re one of the smart ones, or so you think. You’re the kind of Jagermeister swilling hip-to-be-square types, too cool for school. Think the rules don’t apply to you. Yeah, I get it.

I want you to do something for me. I want you to do it right now.

Brush that trend ‘do back and read the rules carefully. I am telling you right now that if you join my club, you will have to follow the rules.

Hey, the first one is “No spitting.” That should be easy enough.

I have seen your type a million times. I have rejected your friend request and I have sent your uploads spooling endlessly. I can spot your M.O. in my peripheral vision. I’m that good.

You don’t think you have to follow the rules. Don’t deny it, you know that it is true. Your whole life you have defined yourself as someone not like everyone else. Not a joiner, that’s for fail punks and mainstream douchebags. You ain’t drinking the Kool-aid.

Fair enough. I bow to your coolness. In fact, I admire it.

But rules are rules, and don’t even think about joining the club if you aren’t going to follow them.

So you say, “No worries, daddy-o. I can follow those rules.” That’s because you know I got the good cookies, and there is something awesome going on backstage. You want that pass, I see it in your eyes.

I want to believe you, but I know you can’t go long without making a contrary statement, pressing the vanity button. Still….there’s something there though, some kind of potential, that makes me want to say yes.

I love your enthusiasm. I love your willingness. I love that fact that you are willing to put down those wrinkled, rollback beliefs and join a winning team. Happy to have you on board with these initiatives. Welcome aboard!

I don’t think a special someone like you would want to sign up for this if everyone was doing it. You’re an early adapter, I get that. I know that if this gets too, oh popular, you’ll start trolling forums and stir up the pot. Not only do I get that, but I am counting on it.

‘Cause, you can’t make an omelet if you don’t break some eggs. Trite yes, but damn true. We’re talking about creative destruction. Let’s break it, smash it down, and build it from scratch. Let’s fuck with it and see what comes out of it.

This initiative isn’t for the weak and palsy. Hell no, you gotta be tough to play my game, you gotta have wits, you gotta have creativity.

And it’s clear to me that you have all that.

We’re about to embark on a New and Improved World Order, we are going to make changes yes we are. When we get done, you’re not even going to recognize the place.

Still with me? Like I ever had a doubt.

Now this is going to have some sacrifice involved. You may have to cut those ties, be ready to walk away in an instant. People are going to get hurt. And there probably won’t be much of a warning.

I want you to do something for me. I want you to do it right now.

Repeat after me:

“Life can change in an instant.”

Very good. Now say:

“Shit happens.”

Excellent. Now one more:

“Better to be pissed off then pissed on.”

Perfect.

I am going to be honest with you, and the fact that I am being honest with you should be yet another affirmation that you have made an excellent choice joining me going forward. It’s always good to have a back up plan. So if you don’t have one, I need you to get with it. Map out that plan B, and maybe a Plan C.

I would love to give you a guarantee that everything will work out to the last lettered detail, but I am only responsible for the effort, not the result. No matter how it goes, it will go.

So do whatever prep you need to do and get back real quick. We are about to position our shields and lower our spears to throat level. We are going to stick some pigs, you and I. They got it coming, and we are just the people to do it.

Just remember that sign on the wall when you signed up.

If you join the club, you gotta play by the rules son.

Another Command Will Follow

In my crazy postmodern apocalyptic world, there exists the Dodge Tribe. More on them to follow. They have a few poets that lurk in their ranks. I have managed to wrestle this short piece the grimy paws of one of their reluctant bards.

A sinister flash of teeth caused an agreement
to happen without cautious second glances
Now, a fortuitous hero wills his rise from rusted ranks
and former idol worshipers now condemn last minute strokes of genius
Yes, genius or brilliance in simplicity
Could lasting actions build tradition or shore up ethical balloons
in a corral to prevent exposure to toxic elements
Elements – periodic in definition, organized in hardened flesh of sheer disaster
Former chiefs can create new obedience in tired fists
Blasting caps fuel memory armed in apology
Could forgers pose as the holy in retribution of the convicted
Tattoo change on the base of the necks of the leashed

And Now a Word From Our Sponsor.

Another rant from my highly regarded novel manuscript, Leather to the Corinthians.

 

Well, well, well.

Can you smell what’s cooking? Are those delicious smells wafting under your well-trimmed nostrils? Are you salivating, chomping at the bit?

A-n-t-c-i-p-a-t-i-o-n.

Let me ask you, what banner do you fly? What’s your flag? Where do you place that salute? Who gets your pledge?

As a wise man once asked, “What’s in your pipe?”

Cause baby, you gotta know. I got this gut feeling, this instinct about you. I know that you aren’t some nameless drone in a herd of Sheeple. Just by looking at you, I can tell you are something special. Here, have a participation trophy on me.

I would never criticize you, or judge you. You are far too amazing. You know, if no one has ever told you, I will tell you now.

You have potential.

I just lied – not about you having potential – no way. I lied about never criticizing you. I do have a criticism for you. You aren’t doing enough with that amazing you that you are. I’m serious here! You have massive amounts of untapped potential. You are overflowing.

Feeling a little bit better? Good.

You need a banner to fly, or one to ride under. I think you may have one of your own, just for some reason, you are paying some Neanderthal to guard it as it sits in a pay-by-the-month storage facility.

I’m asking you, “What’s in your pipe?”

If you don’t know, or you’re just not sure, then you have to stick with me.  I have the knowledge, the key, the philosophy, THE CAUSE for you to believe in. I know that life has a way of grinding you like fair trade coffee, it has a way of digitally chaining you in the corner, with nothing but cold gruel and flagellation to keep you going. All I know about cold gruel and flagellation is that two out of ten people like it.

Looking at your face, I don’t think you’re in that demographic. I think you want out of those chains. Well, guess what?

You have the key. You can unlock yourself at anytime. You don’t have to put baby in the corner. All I need you to do is believe in me. Join me, and together we will rule the universe.

Look at those ants, those worker drones sitting next to you, quietly dying in their personal cells. Suffering needlessly because someone, somewhere, told them that this was the road to happiness, the golden pathway to salvation. Work hard, and you’ll be rewarded. Do as I say, follow the rules, and it will be a glorious life of rewards for you.

What a bunch of fucking fools, right?

I know that you are not one of them. You are no fool. You have just been waiting for your chance, your mission, your helicopter ride out of the shit. Maybe you have felt incapable, or scared. That’s ok, that’s normal. That’s exactly how they want you to think.

I don’t want you to think like they want you to. FUCK THAT. I want you to think as I do, because believe me, it’s the best thing for you. I don’t want to see someone as special as you wither on the vine, programmed for self-obselecence. I want you to tap into that great potential of yours, and put it to use.

Do as I say, and trust me, you’ll be happy. I am the man with the plan, I got the spreadsheets, the inside track, I know what’s going down. Let me plant these seeds, baby, so you can dig.

This ain’t no joke, I am not fucking around. I got the golden ticket right here for you, you just gotta sign on the dotted line. I need your signature, or this motion is never going to pass.

I can tell that I’ve got your interest. Let me ask you, “Who loves you, baby?”

That’s right. I do.

I love you and everything you stand for, because you stand for me and behind me. Look, I know it’s sudden. Here you were, lost in the woods, shipwrecked, given the wrong food at the drive-thru. Then suddenly, there I was, powerful and enticing and possessing a hell of a message.

I know, I get it a lot.

What I am telling you is that I will give you the reason to fight. You no longer have to figure it out for yourself. I am you friend, protector, and champion. I will right what is wrong and you will agree with me because you know I am the right man for the job, and that I stand for everything I believe in.

At this point, that needs to be enough. I can’t have you questioning my moves, because everything that I will do from this point forward, I do for me, for you, for us.

There will be the doubters, the protesters, those who won’t shut their fucking mouths and get on with it, but you are not going to be one of those. You are going to be one of those that FUCKING gets it, knows what’s up, and sees the trees for the forest. There will be no stutter in your step, that is for damn sure.

Because my friend, I am going to take care of everything for you. Everything. Just fly my banner, fly my flag, salute me when I walk by, and do what I tell you to do. You have to know that you are one of the special ones, remember that. As I told you before, you have massive potential, what you have to say matters, and I will always respect your feelings. Your cause is my cause as long as your cause is my cause.

So worry no more, get back to what you were doing, move along nothing to see here. I got your back, I got you covered, and I got it taken care of. Just stay out of my way and nobody gets hurt.

Nobody that matters, that is.

Come a Little Closer…

This rant has been with me for quite a while, and has seen more than a few revisions, with more likely. It’s the intro piece to my currently unpublished yet amazing novel Leather to the Corinthians.

I know what ails you.

Gather round, all you tattooed, lost soul wandering, Wi-Fi/Lo-Fi mutants! Come! Come over here, all you swollen pineal gland, third eye having, genetically crossbred hybrid super-freaks! Get on with your bad selves! Turn on, all you telepathic, degenerate, UFO subterranean gaping-mouthed, prehensile tail monsters! Come see the true reality! Come see the answer!

I know what ails you.

I know what troubles bring you forward in droves to stare at the mighty juice, the glorious oil that transforms the beaten into full-blown raving geniuses. What I offer will not only satisfy, it will fulfill. I know this because I have looked into your shallow eye sockets and have seen the bloodstained traumas and horrors of your ancient astronaut ancestors — ancestors whose bio-seeds gave birth to the many-armed succubae tormentors of your secret psychic souls. Your years of meta-body personal apocalypse, for which no self-help book can repair, are nearing their end as you drop open drooling jaws to this ultimate, extreme wonderproduct of the new and improved age. A tonic to exhilarate! An oil to lubricate! A cure for all that ails you!

Yes, come closer. See the cure. Witness its power. See for yourself that which you have sought all along! For I alone have the cure for all of your miseries, mysterious diagnosed conditions, typed and phenotyped.

A blitzkrieg of postmodern, avant-garde consumption is what stands before you, sporting a gleaming showcase and stellar package design. Know that great pains were taken by reality contest-winning champions of marketing and psychology to achieve such consumer-leeching greatness! Admire its modern sleekness with a nod to past tradition. Absorb its glorious aura, which speaks to wisdom beyond your minuscule sensory abilities. A Holy Tribute to all concepts of mass marketing, it plunges bull’s-eye darts into your dark demographic, laser-sighting all of your self-flagellating desires. All your life you have wanted to know what could fill your personal void. What Spackle could handle a hole that size? You always knew there was something missing, and you have paced trenches in your Astroturf trying to figure it out.

Well, by golly, here it is! Here is the panacea for your stunted and lackluster existence.

Wait — before I show you, there is much, much more. Oh, do I hear a moan? And do I hear whines? Will the sound of a thousand bloggers flaming this humble salesman rock the night sky? Please, I know you’re excited, but please take the instant-action medication of your choice and take a deep fucking breath.

I know that your vertebrae have strained and snapped under the wheel of the MAN. I know that your condemnation to LIVE BY THE SWEAT OF YOUR BROW has imprisoned you in the prison of your manual labors. Oh, how the blood and tears have dribbled off your skin and fallen to the ground only to evaporate without acknowledgment! No crime so great should go unpunished. Honestly, I know. It’s really too much for anyone to take.

That is why I am here.

Eye Scream by FatMandy
“Eye Scream” by FatMandy.

You scream, “GIVE ME MY SALVATION!”

I hear you.

You scream, “I’M MAD TO SELL BECAUSE I CAN’T BUY ANYMORE!”

I hear you.

I know what ails you.

You scream and pull your hair out and nothing seems right. No amount of manufactured content can satiate that deep, dark hole that you possess. The more you take in, the more you have to take in. This is truly madness!

I won’t toy with you for much longer, my fine multi-celled beastly brothers and sisters. Mark my words; you will dig deep for this key to tomorrow’s satisfaction. Your excitement is palpable! Rejoice in finally knowing that there is a final destination for your carefully monitored paycheck.

That is why I am here today with my powerhouse product.

I know that what I offer you will silence the screams. It will ease the suffering and bring peace and serenity to all. Yes, it will cost you. But what, my friend, does not cost you?

I see your eyes darting about at the retina-searing, clear-coated, and vending-machine-ready collection of fine goodies you find before you. I know that you ache to reach out and have these all-fulfilling objects of Styrofoam, aerosol-inspired creation. But know that the one true human emotion, WANT, will not so easily be vanquished by a mere touch. The desire to possess is beyond measure, but remember, the chase is always better than the catch. And always, always leaving them wanting more.

Unlike this lifetime, this all-purpose product has a warranty and a guarantee. And coming soon? A 24-hour, online support chat room. So come closer and I will show you more!

Rather listen to my audio awesomeness? Here you go: