The 10 Plagues Revealed

Just thought it would be interesting to put this down. Will do it list style. 

The Plagues happened at the same time as a massive volcano eruption. The volcano Santorini sent ash in to the air effecting the surrounding area. The ash is found in Cairo and the Nile River, proven by testing the composition of the ash. This volcanic eruption happened between 1500-1650BC while the Plagues happened between 1400-1550BC. So it fits there. 

1st Plague. River ran red LIKE blood. But there is a common algae plume called the Red Tide. This makes the river, or any water, look red like blood. Why did this happen? The ash changes the PH level of the river allowing the algae to bloom. 

2nd Plague. Frogs. The algae are killing fish. Fish eat frog eggs. No fish, record number of frogs. Frogs can't live in polluted water and so leave the river. 

3rd and 4th Plague. Lice and flies. The translation can actually be lice, fleas, gnats, or midges. But you have river full of dead fish, and now dead frogs. This brings the insects of the 3rd and 4th Plague. 

5th Plague. Pestilence. Flies, dead frogs, dead fish, easy enough no? 

6th Plague. Boils. Certain types of flies that bite can leave behind boils. The bites get infected, they turn in to boils. 

7th Plague. Fire and Hail. Ash in the air causes a mixture of ash and water. The ash, very high in the air, causes the water to freeze so when it falls it is hail and not rain. The fire? I saw this amazing picture in Nat. Geo. of a volcanic eruption. There was red lightning. It was amazing to see bright red lightning. Why is it red? Chemicals in the ash makes red lightning. So fire in the sky, and hail.

 
8th Plague. Locusts. Locusts come about when the ground is very damp.
They bury their eggs in the sand about 4-6 inches. After record amount of hail the ground would be very wet allowing the locusts to form. 

9th Plague. Darkness. Ash in the air. After am eruption in 1815 there was darkness for 600 kilometers. After Krakatoa it was dark for even farther for days. 

10th Plague. Death of First born. In Egypt the first born was king. They would be the one to lead the family after the father died. When food was scarce the first born ate first and sometimes was the only one to eat. After locusts ate everything there was only grain locked in vaults. The hail got it wet, locust feces, it made it moldy. And so when only the first born ate, they were the only ones killed by moldy grain. 

Simple right? Back then they never would have known. Back then lightning was His wrath. Back then a disease was His punishment. Back then nature was unknown. But when you look at it with science, not that big a deal. It's true that disturbing ecosystem may lead to undesirable effects and given the insufficient hygiene, some of the plagues directly affecting the people were very likely the consequence of the chain reaction triggered by Plague #1. 

But science should be as exact as possible to elevate a rational speculation to a theory -- and that's the point where the mainstream science failed to deliver the unchallengeable explanation to the causes of the Plagues of Egypt. 

We must seek an alternative explanation to the phenomenon which employs an exact scientific methods, where the exactness is supplied by the usage of mathematics. Exactness is a synonym to equality, and so we must employ something similar to the famous E = mc^2 to arrive at the true theoretical explanation to the question what caused the Plagues of Egypt. 

Firstly, we must establish the quantities and the time of the occurrence: There were 10 plagues that took place in the Biblical times, because Exodus, the second book of The Old Testament, describes them all. 

Secondly, we need to formulate the question regarding the cause of the plagues mathematically, where the cause is an unknown variable x: 

10 = x 

To solve this equation, we need to restrict our solution with respect to the source, which is Exodus. In other words, we are looking for significant event strongly related to number 10 in this book . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Here it is: the 10 commandments -- the list of "religious and moral imperatives" that God gave to Moses to go by. Now we can solve the unknown variable: 

10 plagues = 10 commandments. 

The interpretation of the above equality is simple: The people of Egypt utterly disregarded God's moral codex and God punished them for that. He counted, so the punished folks would know what those plagues were meant for. 

Of course, mathematic equations are the most exact instruments, but they cannot be completely detached from physical aspects that they define. The confirmation of God causing the plagues must therefore assume an observable or detectable form. And so here is the final brick to the theory: 

You know, the theory has a weak spot. 

No, it has not -- it's perfect. 

Yes, it has. There is a glitch: You handed the 10 Commandments to Moses after he and his people left Egypt. You punished the wrong guys. 

No, I didn't. They are all the same; Homo sapiens = Homo sapiens -- the same bunch of disrespectful creatures. 

But if the Egyptians knew that you had issued those 10 instructions, they would have behaved. 

That's what you think? What are you up to, dude? Are you going to teach me what my own creation would do or not? I know those chipmunks better than anyone else, and I truly say onto you that you know shit about them. 

Too bad I lost the tape with the above conversation on it; otherwise I would turn the theory into the fact and forwarded my academic standing further than anyone else would ever hope for.

 

 

Shitty Way Of Life

Hi everyone. In the last post I promised to talk about my minds way of thinking. What goes on in my mind on a daily basis? So, here it is. I hope none of you get scared, or look at me differently or have any negative impact on me. I am the way I am there is nothing I can or want to do to change myself. I am happy with the way I am and if you can’t accept me for me then I don’t need that negativity in my life. I want to be surrounded by people that are positive and want to pass that positivity on to me. A lot of people can’t believe that I can write with that ability. Well, I can. My mother doesn’t like what I write she refuses to read. No matter how many time that I ask her she will not read. I am really sad that she won’t but at the same time if she can’t read what I write then she doesn’t know me as her son. I really wish that she would because then maybe she will understand my mind and my way of thinking. I really can’t say a lot about my father. He has forgotten that I even exist. I think it started because when I was teenager I used several narcotic choices and let them rule my life to a point that I was really angry at the world looking for a way out. Looking and I found the drugs. I used in every part of the day. Earlier than that, my parents divorced and I took it hard. I started smoking at a young age. I lived with my mother for a while. I felt that I was being sheltered too much. I now realized that it was because she was trying protecting me I guess, still trying to figure out what. Anyway, I was smoking and what I would do was I took the screen off the window of the two story house, climb out the window and sit on the roof while she was sleeping and smoked cigarettes. Now I was not able to buy them on account of me being too young, so I encouraged a friend to buy for me. I gave him money and he would go in and get them for me. He gave me a lecture how it wasn’t good to do it and blah blah blah. He was just looking out for me. I appreciate that buddy. Then I got in my mind, what if I could jump off the roof into the bushes? So one day after my mom went to bed, I got dressed and went downstairs. There was a bedroom in the back of the house just below my room. I unlocked the window so I could get back in. I went upstairs back to my room, climbed out the window and jumped without hesitation into the big bush on the side front corner of the house. I landed and not sure why but I got a rush out of it. Then the question arose in my mind, now what? I looked at the watch I had it was early so I ran to my friend’s house a few blocks away. We hung out there until around 5am. Then I went back home, climbed through the window on the first floor, snuck upstairs back into my room. My mother never knew. She will know a lot of things that I did if she reads this. No, readers, I don’t care if she knows. She needs to know. I am revealing a lot that she didn’t know and still doesn’t know even today. Will she get angry? I am guessing she will. But honestly I don’t care. I will explain why later. I jumped that roof so many times and landed in the bush so many times the Gardner did not know what was happening to it. The bush looked so deformed. I am not sure what kind it was, but I sure got a lot of scratches from it. While in high school, around the same time I did the jumping, I decided it would be cool to jack my mom’s car. She had a Toyota truck, stick shift. I did not have a license nor insurance. I found the keys and went for a joy ride around town. I had a lot of fun in that truck. I really liked it. I would get the truck back home before she got there. Then she would leave for her softball games. I figured I had about an hour and a half till she got home. I knew where she was playing at; I took her car again and drove there, parking on the side of the street on the hill, basically thinking out of sight out of mind. I would make sure she was there, then after spotting her I would drive around town a little. Not going anywhere, but just driving. Not once did I get pulled over, accident, or anything. I was really lucky because now I know what could have happened. And I have to say this in here because this has bothered me and kept to myself so long. I am not sure what year it was or how old I was, but I do know that my older brother was still living with us, and my mom had a Honda Accord stick shift 1987, I believe. Anyway I let my brother take the fall for this for so many years. Anyway, that day my mom asked me to get something out of her car. The garage door was open. Across the street there was a big lifted truck, not sure on the make and model of it but I do know it was white. At that age I didn’t know shit about cars. I was too young. I used to always watch her shift. I sat in the driver’s seat and pretended that I was driving. I didn’t start the car, didn’t even put the key in the ignition. All I did was press the brake, gas and clutch. I left the car in neutral when I got out. The handbrake was disengaged. I went back in the house and gave my mom what she asked for. A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. My father answered it. The owner of the truck was there looking pissed off. “I called my insurance company and I gave them the information of your car.” My father was puzzled. The guy continued, “Your wife’s car rolled out the garage and hit my truck.” My father was confused. I followed them outside to look. Looking at the destruction that I caused, I was amazed. They immediately went into the house after taking down information, and beat the shit out of my brother. He was saying that he didn’t do it. But they said who else would do it? Your sister can’t, your brother is too young to even know what to do. They whooped him so bad, later on in life I felt the same wrath that I will get to later. I am finally getting it out of my head to tell the world what I was responsible for. i didn’t say shit then until now. I was not sure what would happen. I guess I was a chicken shit. But you know what I don’t give a fuck. Not anymore. I have given them my phone number not sure how many times, haven’t received not one call from them. Not one email. I even went to see my father on the last birthday I had. Guess what happened? My father owns a store. I went to that store and wanted to see him. He pulled up. I went to him and said hi. Immediately after that he told me you won’t find a job looking like you do. I told him it’s my birthday so therefore I can wear whatever I want. With that he got irate. He was yelling at me and my friends, getting in our faces. My ex-girlfriend and her bf stepped in between my father and me to protect me. He chest butted her. Her boyfriend stepped up. With my dad cursing and yelling acting like a dumbass, several people several people asked if they should call the cops. I didn’t want that because it’s my birthday. I don’t need that crap. I just wanted to say hi to my dad. I was confused what the hell his problem was and to this day I still am. I don’t talk to him. I don’t know what he is doing nor do I care. If he doesn’t give a shit about me, why should I give a shit about him? You may say because he is your father, yeah maybe you are right. But I don’t care. That’s my decision not yours. So my ex girl friend called her father and he showed up. I just wanted to leave and continue on my day. He showed up and asked what happened. Now this guy I have known for about 10 years. I look up to him as a father. He was there to rescue me when I needed someone the most, when my father wouldn’t. ok, ok, I will tell you a little history about that. One reason why I say fuck it now, is because when my parents were just getting a divorce, he moved out. he would call me and tell me pack a bag you are coming with me for the weekend. He would tell me that on Wednesday. I was so excited. I packed a bag and waited till Friday night when he said he was going to pick me up. I waited and waited. I went to sleep. Saturday morning I wake up and called him. He would say hey I am busy, let me call you back. He still did that shit to me when I got older. I look back now and I figured he was fucking some chick. Anyway, I would wait for his call. That call did not come for weeks. I can’t count how many times he did that shit. So finally I said the hell with it. My mom and I used to joke about that. Saying, “Well, he said he will call me back. So I expect a call in the next week or two.” It is funny now but at the time each time the weekend went by and he didn’t show up, I lost more and more respect for him. I went into a state of depression. Staying in my room as much as I can, writing, and finding ways to get my mind off him. The few times that he did show up, I went to his house. It was the same shit. For years he told me he would take me to the air museum. That never happened. We never went to see a movie together. He didn’t teach me to drive. He was too busy to show me how to shave. My mom and I played catch more than him and me. Was I hurt? What the fuck you think. I was a little tike trying to look up to my father and was being rejected every time. Hell yeah I was hurt. My friends were telling me what they did with their fathers. When asked, I made up stories to fit in. telling them we went to Disneyland and shit like that. We never did. In the 4 or five years this was going on for, we didn’t do more than 3 things together. That means we never went to the movie house, never went anywhere together really. Oh, one time when my parents were together, he told my mom he was taking me to the arcade. I was really excited; I got dressed super-fast and was waiting. We went out alright, right out to another woman’s house. She had a PlayStation and that’s what he called the arcade. He told me to play while he and his lady friend “talk”. Back then I figured that is what they were doing until I started to hear the moans and grunts. The door was closed but I could still hear them. She was a pediatrician. I couldn’t believe it. When we left there, we went to get some food that he bought me to keep me quiet. He drilled me a few times. “Where did we go?” I was happily eating “the arcade.” I said with smile. He kept asking me this all the way home. We would get home and mom would ask how the arcade was. I told her that it was great. He was teaching me to cover shit up. I was about 14 when that happened. I know because the game that I was playing was called Test Drive 4. It was released in 1997. Yes at that age I was naïve and incredibly stupid. Had I known what was going on I would have told my mother or asked for a raise. What would be really cool is I should have blackmailed him. But then again I was incredibly stupid. Before I hit 15, which is when the divorce happened. I remember that day like this morning. Two ladies came, pounding on the door, waking us up. I ran into the front room that faces the street. I looked in the driveway. Those two cars were unrecognizable. I heard the voices of the women. One voice was the same as the arcade ladies voice. She and someone else were there asking for my father. He told mom he was at a friend’s house by his work because he worked overtime and needs to get up early the next day. These women were bitching about where my father is. My mom had no idea what was going on, or she seemed not to know. She told me to stay in the room. I told myself fuck that I want to know what the commotion was. I was still staring out the window when I saw my dad roll up fast and out of control. He was bitching at the chicks. Then the chicks were bitching back. My mom just seemed passive. He left. The chicks left. I could hear my mom crying. I was confused by the whole thing. My dad came back one day soon after that. I was at home alone. He told me get in the car. I did. There were 2 kids younger than me in the backseat. I was a little confused. A woman walked in the house. I was staying in the car. They were inside not 10 minutes. I saw my mom roll up. She had a confused look on her face. At the same time she had a pissed off don’t fucking talk to me look. She got out the car and went into the house. All I heard was her say you bastard! A few moments later I saw the woman and my dad come out the house. He was telling me to get out the car. I did it. The woman and he took off together. At that point it was clear to me what was going on. He had been cheating on my mom. I assume it has been going on for years. That is the reason for the divorce. That’s when the calls from my dad saying he was going to pick me up started. I was really hurt by the whole situation. At the same time I could not imagine what my mother felt. There are a lot of parents that divorce from cheating but now I was just a statistic. A child stuck in the middle of it all. For a long time I thought I was the cause of it. Looking back now, I realized that it wasn’t. It was because of him cheating. Infidelity is the number one reason for divorce. Then everything came clear. Why my father was always gone. Why he wasn’t coming home. My mother was so hurt. To this day I think she still is. At that time did I care? Yes a little but it was more about me. I wanted the attention. I wanted all of it. I didn’t care about nothing else. Just the fact that I wanted my parents love at all times. When I didn’t get it, I would do stupid shit that made them focus on me. No matter if it was good or bad. I then found out quickly that the good shit they didn’t care about. It was the bad shit. So I started to act up more than ever. I was an evil kid. I did a lot of shit in my day. For example I would hide food in my room, wait for them to find it. And I got that attention. I would also throw trash and stuff into the neighbor’s yard. I ate the attention I was getting. I loved it. The best was the grades I brought in. my grades were so low. I stole money from them; I stole so much from them it’s not funny. If I could put an estimate on it I would say I stole about 3k from them. When I was 17, I pulled the ultimate attention getter. It soon backfired in my ass. I ran away. I was living with my mom. I just up and left. No warning, nothing. I was gone for about 2 weeks. During those 2 weeks was when I realized that I was a dumbass for running away. After the two weeks, I returned home thinking my mother was going to say I have missed you I was worried about you or something. I didn’t get shit. All she said was I could use the shower and my father is going to be called. I took a shower and my father was called. He was on the way there from his house. Yeah now he wants to show up right? After I showered and my mom told me that my dad was on his way I took off. I was so angry that all the time I was at my mom’s house he wanted to pull the shit saying he will call me back and not once try for day’s even weeks at a time. Now all of a sudden I am important enough for him to come see me when called? That’s bull fucking shit. I know you are thinking that I was selfless, but hey this is my life. My parents, the ones who were supposed to be there for me, to love me and all they did were push me out their lives. I will get an email from my mom if she reads this saying that I pushed them out my life. Well news flash mom, I was the one always calling you. I was the one trying to stay in touch. And it was not reciprocated. So I stopped trying. Why should I stay in touch with someone if that person can’t pick up a phone and call me? Why? So, when my father got there I was gone. I guess he went looking for me because he drove by at ordered me in the car. I got in like a dumbass. We got back to the house. He told me I was going to live with him. Yay! Bullshit! That was not the way it was supposed to go. I lived with him. I went to school I was doing things by the book. My mom and her boyfriend, now husband, bought me a car. It was a rundown piece of shit car. It had a blown head. I was happy though. The gesture was more than enough. I didn’t care if the car didn’t turn over. I was now feeling like a normal teenager. What happened to the car? Well, my father told me to sell it he keeps the money and sells me his car with the money. Sounds great right? Man, was that a fucking lie. I sold the car. He kept the money and the car. I didn’t see any of it. When I bring it up later he told me that wasn’t the deal. Which my mom and her husband will tell you that it was the deal. What happened to the car? He sold it to one of his bastard kids. That he fathered. Now get this, while I was living there he introduced me to a kid about 3 years younger than me talking about he is your brother. I never had seen this mother fucker before. Never heard about him, nothing. And all of a sudden he is my brother? I found more and more children that he fathered, that were being introduced to me in the time that I was there. How fucked up is that shit? Here I am, 18 now and I am learning more and more about the lying cheater of a father I have. I met my ex-girlfriend and her father at this time. We went out on dates and had fun. She asked if she could come over to my father’s house one day. I told her sure. That was my fuck up because I should have asked him first. But I still said sure. Here comes my father rolling in the house about an hour later. During that hour all we did was talk and play video games. We didn’t do shit sexually at all. We didn’t even kiss. I heard the garage door open and ran out to meet him. I wanted to tell him that she was here before he found her there. After I told him he went postal, he hit me a few times, which I didn’t know until after the fact but she saw everything. He went in the house said hi to her and told her to call her father to pick her up. He talked to her father for about 45 minutes. I was in the room which faced the front street side. Looking out the window I saw her staring up at me. I couldn’t believe what was happening. That was the last thing I remember from that day. A few weeks later we went to a government office and found out that I was adopted. That was fun. 18 years old and not knowing I was adopted. Then more lies came flooding in. my father told me that they informed me that I was adopted and that I had forgotten. That is bullshit. If I was told that I wouldn’t have forgotten that. I still haven’t forgotten 9 years later. So I started poking around searching for answers. Searching every which way I can. Asking questions. Asking people that were close to the family if they had any information. I was told by my uncle that he knew and they didn’t tell me to protect me. When I asked him to protect me from what, he acted dumb. I knew that he had answers. Just like I think my mom has answers but won’t tell me. It doesn’t even matter anymore. I don’t give a fuck. I know I am leaving a bunch of other shit I have done, I just can’t remember right now. So getting back to the main thing that I was meant to write about, which was my mind. I think because of everything that has happened I let my mind run away. Complaining about a horrible childhood and letting that get to my head. Using conflicts as an excuse to fill my body and mind with hatred. Not guilt. My therapist told me that I write the way I do because I have unsolved things in my heart and mind. I am confused and blame my parents for things that cannot be changed. I understand that what happened in the past happens. It can’t be changed. My question is, how can you force someone to have a relationship that doesn’t reciprocate? So many times I have called, emailed, visited my parents. The only emails that I get are always negative ones. When are the emails or calls going to be good? Going to be like hi son how are you we have missed you would you like to go out to eat on this day? Normal conversations. So many times I cry at night because I feel that my parents don’t give a fuck. They don’t give a fuck if I live or die. So many times I want to see if they really do. How? To kill myself. And look down from Heaven and see if they shed at least one tear. Honestly speaking, I don’t think they would. They say that they worry about me in the past, but yet they don’t call or shit. That is just fucked up if you ask me. All I want is for my parents to give a damn. To let me know if they actually fucking care. All my life, it seemed that they just want to see the bad shit, and not the good shit that I have done. I hope that one day I will be able to be seen for the person that I have always wanted to be. There are so many things in life that need to be straightened out. I wish my life was a lot better back then. Now don’t get me wrong, I was not the model son. I have done my fair share of rotten shit trust me. For once I would like to be recognized for good shit I have done. Hey mom, check out my writing. You like it so far? Bet you didn’t know your son could write like this did you? Well, I can. I am a fantastic writer. I am working on my 3rd book. That’s right my 3rd one. People loved my first 2. I am so happy. That is one reason why I started this blog. I am not only doing something that I am great at, I am also doing something that people enjoy. I enjoy it as well. So I challenge you. Look back and re-read this if you need to. Look back and think about the life I lead as a kid. Think about why I have done everything and ask yourself, did he do that to get attention? Did he really feel loved? I am not trying to force you to contact me; I am simply trying to understand what I felt growing up. I have written this whole thing from the heart. I spilled my guts to let the world see. Let the world see everything that I have done and how I grew up. I don’t appreciate being talked about. Especially about the negativity with holding the positive that has happened in my life. It has always been about the negative things. I am sitting here in tears because I remember the life. The life of when everything went down with dad. Back then I really thought it was my fault. I have been hurt so bad in the past from everyone that I said to hell with it. I want to get one thing straight though, I don’t blame you or anyone for anything that happened in my life. I blame myself. And as a result, I have become the person that I am. I have no regrets because I have taken everything as a learning experience. So, with that said I want to say publicly for the world to read that, I am sorry. I am sorry for all the pain and hurt that I have caused. I am sorry for stealing from you. I am sorry for everything.

Apology

Ok, so here I am once again. I think I am making this a habit of writing every day. But then again isn’t that what a blog is? I just want to say first off that a lot of readers thought that ‘Therapists’ was true. Well people that is what I was going for. I wanted to make it seem real so that it would strike the heart and get it racing. That one is not true just a made up thing that came to my sick twisted little brain. I do that often. I like writing about destroying life. Why? Because that is what my mind thinks about and that is just a part of me. Wow, I sound like a Michael Jackson song. Oh, well. So yeah that is what I think about majority of the day. Do I act upon it? Nope, I do not. I do not want the life that I live to be in jail for a murder cause then let’s face it, I wouldn’t be able to bring you great writing. In addition part of the story was true. I was seeing a therapist. I was diagnosed with Schizophrenia. For those that are not familiar with that, it is considered a disorder in which suicide, hearing voices, irregular thought of death and ways to kill are my symptoms as well as split personality. I do have a split personality. In fact I have been known to be rude and mean in other ways I have been known to be kind and gentle. When I was little, I was thinking about death all the time. Thinking about how to kill someone and such. I know that this is going to change the view on me from a lot of people but I don’t care. If you can’t accept me for me, then then hell with you. I don’t need that negativity in my life. Some say that I can flip out at any time. Well be that as it may, I am not that type of person. My heart is clean and not pure but I have no intentions of hurting anyone ever! I have never done that not physically anyway. I refuse. I would rather hurt myself and kill myself than to hurt someone in that way no matter who you are. I am not a hateful person I just have a lot of hatred in my heart. My friends say that my heart is cold at times, that may be true, but I believe I can be a nice person as well. A lot of the things that I write about are true stories that have been told to me from others. I am going to write one after this that will explain my way of thinking a little bit further so that everyone may understand what I think about. How I think, my thought process and the personal conflicts that I battle in my head every day. This is a short one, probably the shortest one I have written. So I want to say that I am sorry if you all thought that ‘Therapists’ was true. It’s just a story. Thank you for reading and I hope that doesn’t prevent you from reading more.

Therapists

Here I am again. This time I have a foundation for a great story that I am writing. I go to my therapist and she wanted to hear it. As I told her, she kept nodding her funny shaped head and writing things down. I asked her what she was writing down. She retorted with a smile and a stupid answer which was I am taking notes of this for future sessions. What kind of answer is that? I was a little confused then it hit me. Everything that she writes down she brings up in a later session. I couldn’t believe that this sneak old bat was basically tricking me into talking about feeling and such. It’s so stupid. This lady was a conniving lady, but I wanted to know what she was writing down. I snatched the paper from her and I looked. She yelled at me demanding for it back. I told her in a minute I want to read what you are writing. On that sheet of paper she analyzed my story. There was a question at the end of it ‘Childhood problems with parents?’ I couldn’t believe that. I threw it back to her and stuck with my consistent story that there are no childhood problems are were not resolved as a kid. Fuck that. That’s all I had to say. ‘Tell me about your childhood’, she told me. I looked at her with a two eyed glare. ‘There’s nothing to tell. My childhood was perfect. I had everything that I needed.’ I sat back in the couch thing I was sitting in continuing to stare at her. I could tell she was feeling uncomfortable. The way I knew this was because she kept swallowing hard and playing with her pen in her fingers. It was more of a rolling motion between the pointer and middle fingers. In addition she was drinking a swallow of water every few seconds. She is supposed to be the therapist, and she is showing obvious signs of anxiety, emotion and wanting the hour to be done with. I glanced at the clock and saw that it only moved about 6 minutes. 54 minutes to go. I laughed and smiled at her. The one thing that she did that I knew I could use was that she kept shifting in the chair. Either she was uncomfortable or she had a really bad case of ass burn and she needed cream. So I suggested it to her, ‘Do you want some cream?’ She looked at me confused, so I explained myself. ‘You keep shifting in the chair so I just thought you had a bad case of ass burn.’ I looked at her with squinted eyes. Her face got so red. I loved it. I ate it up. She wants to analyze what I write I felt 2 people can analyze each other and find out who got uncomfortable first. It was a fun game. I won with that question. (Big smile. Therapist 0, me 1.) She could not believe that question and told me I made her uncomfortable. You know what I don’t care. She made me uncomfortable as well. I know I know you are saying 2 wrongs don’t make a right. Well you know what? I don’t give a fuck. She had it coming. So at this time she asked me what I wanted to talk about. I retorted with a question. ‘Why don’t we talk about your parents? Or your childhood.’ I guess I should have seen this one coming. She told me uh, what was it? That’s it. Go to hell. I responded with ‘After you.’ I smiled so big. That was when she got up and made a phone call in the other room. She came back with a folder, ‘Get out my office and don’t come back.’ So now I have to find another therapist. Can they do that? Can they tell you to leave? I thought we go to those people to get help and closure or something. But she straight up told me to leave. I took the file sat on the couch and started to read the file. There was a sheet in there that stated and I will try to quote as best I can. “Patient has many unsolved mental issues in accordance with schizophrenia, multi personalities, and suicidal tendencies. Patient is deemed as physical and mental threat to self.” I looked at the top of the sheet and it had my name. “What the fuck is this?” I asked her. She was standing behind the chair as if I was going to charge at her. Honestly people that happened one time. The therapist before the last one not counting her, seriously pisssed me the hell off. He told me that the reason why I hear voices is because my mind is so messed up from the abuse that my father did. Well that wasn’t so bad. Then he said I was better off if my mother hadn’t spread her whore legs and got pregnant. I grabbed the lamp threw it at him. It hit his face and busted his nose. Blood went everywhere. Just to show him how fucked up I was I traced the blood splatter with my middle finger. I looked at him while he was holding his nose and stuck the blood smeared finger in my mouth and tasted the blood. It was salty but the look on his face was priceless. Ah those were the good days. Anyway this chick thinks that I would do that to her. I don’t hit women for one, and for two, I would not hit a woman. But I swear to god if she was a he I would have threw that stapler at her. She has a lot to learn about being a therapist. Seriously she does. Anyway, I read more of the papers in the folder. There was another one with her hand writing saying that she is in fear of me. “Why the hell are you in fear of me?” I asked her. Ok, ok, I didn’t really ask her, I might have yelled at her. Oh, shut up. You can’t tell me that you never wanted to do that to a shrink before. As I asked her that she jumped a mile high. I couldn’t help but laugh so hard. She looked confused. I guess you had to be there to understand. Whatever. You know she really didn’t say anything after that, although she did give me $96.14. It came out of her purse. I left the office and waited in the car. I made a call myself. I waited for few hours in the car. My friend showed up and got in. “Here you go.” He pulled out a glock .45. I took it and did a sight check. “Not bad, man. Thanks for coming through.” He nodded, “No problem bro. Who is the target?” I pointed as she came out the office. I got out the car with the .45 and looked at her. She saw me and stopped dead in her tracks. The look on her face oh it was classic. I raised the gun squeezed the trigger. The first shot when in her arm, flesh wound barely grazed her. She started pleading with me. I laughed at her. I squeezed a second time. This time it punctured her leg. She fell to the ground. Covering her face as she pleaded with me, “Like your arm is going to stop a bullet.” Blood was steadily flowing like a little red river. Another time there was the sound of thunder from the gun. This one went into her foot. I wanted to make sure she suffered for the rest of her life. She needed to suffer for putting me and everyone else in the same position of making them feel like shit. I shot off three more rounds. One went straight through her foot, which was a fun one, seeing the bullet bounces off the asphalt of the parking lot. Blood spurt a little. The second in her knee cap. She is not going to walk anymore. I laughed at that one. The final one went into her other leg. I heard the sirens of the cops. My buddy took off like a chicken shit. Ii walked up to her knelt down, “stop crying you stupid bitch.” I put the gun to her neck and said to her, “bleed out and die. I will see you in hell like you told me earlier.” I squeezed the trigger. The shot grazed her neck, opening a constant flow of blood spurting out. “Drop the gun!” the cops yelled from behind me. I stood and watched as this therapist bled out. I saw the life being drained from her. “I’m not saying it again, drop the fucking gun!” I heard the cop behind me. I turned around and felt a sting on my shoulder. The gun dropped from my hand. I heard it hit the asphalt. Sounded like plastic on a wooden floor. As the cops came toward me I bent down to grab the gun with my other hand. At that time they rushed me, tackled me to the ground. Hand cuffed me. I saw a few of them run to that bitch. “Don’t help her!” I yelled as they put me in the police car. They threw me in. “What about my gunshot wound, goddammit!” I yelled inside the police car. Not sure if they heard me. Whatever though, it’s a flesh wound. I can’t feel it right now anyway. I saw the coroner show up moments later. I started laughing and singing “The bitch is dead. The bitch is dead. Good golly the evil bitch is dead.” When I got to the holding cell the cops booked me, fingerprinted me, and took my picture which I happily smiled for. Nothing really sunk in until sentencing. Not only did I get a guilty verdict, which was….that’s odd I can’t remember. Fuck it it’s been so long. As I stood there in front of the judge, who just happened to be female, I could feel the look on my face. It’s the same pathetic look that I see on television on that court channel. You know the one the guys do something get caught and busted. Yeah whatever, you need you watch more television. There are some good shows on there. At least look online for the shows. At any rate, I was standing there. The bitch of the judge asked the jury for a verdict. The person stood up. I stood up. And my idiot public pretender stood up and whispered to me in my ear, “It’s an open shut case. No jail time watch.” I nodded. Sweet, no jail time. I saw myself on the inside dance. “Guilty on all counts.” The juror said. I looked at my pretender. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “Oh well kid, we tried.” And started to pack his briefcase, I head butted the bastard in the nose. Blood ran down. The bailiff darted over trying to contain me. I elbowed him in the face. He went down. What a pussy. I tackled the pretender and began hitting him with my hands together. Hey they were handcuffed. In the face breaking his glasses, the lens popped out. I hit him again. This time the frame went into his eye. The bailiff rushed me before I could slam the frame more into his eye, hopefully hitting him hard enough it rams into his brain. Apparently the bailiff called for backup because instead of one of them there were four. They wrestled me off and slammed me to the ground on my belly. Placing shackles on my ankles. One of them put his knee in my neck as they took the handcuffs off my wrists. As soon as they did that, I tried to get up; more pressure was upon my neck. I was pinned. I couldn’t move at all. They handcuffed my hands behind me, folded my legs up to my ass. Trust me I tried to kick but that pressure on my neck I couldn’t take it. At that moment I realized what they were doing. They were fucking hog tying me, again. Yeah that wasn’t the first time. I don’t have time to tell you ask me about that later. After successfully hogtying me, the judge yelled out a sentence of 35 years conclusive. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t do anything wrong. I had to add that to keep the stereotypical façade of criminals. So now I write you this from inside Sing Sing Correctional Facility where I will spend the next 12 years. All that happened when I was 27. I am 50 now. I will not be getting out until I am 62. I hope you get this. You are my friend, you write me all the time. I hope this gets past the guards. I just wanted you to know what happened. So take care. I hope to hear from you soon. Oh and by the way, you think you could put some money on my books? I could really use some spread. And say hi to my mom, my sister and my kids. Thanks man. Take care.

Are You Ready?

What would happen if the world was to end? What is the world going to be like? Are we ready for it? Most would say that they are not ready. Others on a smaller scale will say that they are. Are you ready? Are you ready to just end your life without any warning? You ready to meet your higher being? I have a disability. With that disability I think about suicide all the time. This is just a part of me. I am not sure why but I do know that I might one day be successful at my attempt. Am I ready? Let’s just say that I have been ready since birth. I am ready to take a vacation from this crazy satanic world. A world where the governments are corrupt, the police that are supposed to serve the countries are just as bad if not worse than the government. Some of the people that police the areas don’t give a damn about us. All they are worried about are themselves. I have not yet met one cop that actually cares about someone other than themselves or family. Ever notice how cops hang out with other cops. I was once told by my father that it is a world bent on the Masons. If you don’t know what the masons are, they are a group of people that are supposed to be superior to others. How the hell is that supposed to be equal? The constitution of the United States talks about equality. The original document speaks that the government in a society is supposed to work for its people. All I see is that people in the governmental status are bent on making new laws to enforce. Let’s take a look at the Prop 8 that was original passed. For those that don’t know about prop 8, you should stop reading my shit. I will tell you anyway to prove a point. Prop 8 was on a ballot to decide whether or not people of the same sex should be, get this, and allowed to be married. Technically, in the state of California, if you live with someone for 7 years you are considered a communal marriage. So in that argument, if 2 people of the same sex live together for 7 years, are they considered married? Do they have the same laws that apply to heterosexuals? I would assume so, but then again this is the US government putting this into effect. Think honestly, how many politicians are gay or bisexual? How many of our athletes that you watch every Sunday are either gay or bi? Can you honestly say that all of them are straight? According to Amanda Vollrath, a columnist for DSJ, ‘There are a lot more gay men in professional sports than you care to understand.’ Guess what amerika, she is right. I applaud that statement. Then again society deemed it wrong to be a gay male in amerika. Who the fuck cares what your sexual preference is? As long as two people are happy together and it doesn’t affect you and your marriage. Ah that’s another thing. Marriage. People say that marriage is sacred and should only be acknowledged between male and female participants. FUCK YOU. That’s right I said it. I will say it again, fuck you. Marriage is sacred and should be enjoyed no matter your sexual preference. So if it doesn’t involve you then why the hell you are ignorant sons and daughters of bitches want to control people’s lives with that crap. I should come out and say it, all you ignorant bastards, no better word, Niggers (means ignorant look it up people), are communists. I say that because that is what communism is all about. It’s about controlling people’s lives. Controlling who they can or cannot marry. If I want to marry a guy why the hell should I not? Why does the government need to get involved with that aspect of my life? Fuck you government. Let the people marry who they want. Let them enjoy their life. US citizens have a born given right, no a sovereign right to live, right of liberty and guess what government, a sovereign right to the pursuit of happiness. If that includes marrying a guy, then guess what? I should be, see there’s that word again, allowed doing it, without the government stepping in saying that I cannot. Then you might as well chop my nuts off. If that is my way of happiness, then I should be able to do it. I can’t understand why the government wants to regulate and control our decisions, our right to love. Hey governments, if you want to regulate something, regulate how much dirty money is going into your pockets. Regulate the money that belongs to the people and give it back to them, not waste it on stupid shit, like sending millions of dollars to other countries that don’t help us for shit. I’m sure you some sort of deal worked out, but have you checked lately? This country is so fucked up economically, that we cannot afford to ‘give’ money away. So I challenge you today and in the near future. Overturn that bullshit law about not being allowed (see I said it again) to marry same sex. I hate ignorance.

Double Lives

Well here I am again. This time I wanted to write about men who live double lives. However I need to figure out what that would mean. What is a double life? Why would someone want to live that way? Check it out I will tell you. A double life is good for one reason. To protect themselves or to protect the ones they love. Some cases, one will try to live this life in the outside world, where others will want to live this life on the inside more, in private. Let’s try to understand what the possibilities would be for men to hide this. In order to do that we must establish what that life consists of. For hypothetical equations, say for example a man that wanted to be a woman. Hey there are a lot of men that think about that. So say you have been with a woman for oh I don’t know eight years. You were in love, went through trials and tribulations and you two split up for whatever reason. Let’s say for arguments sake it was for cheating. Your heart was crushed. Your stomach rolls around in knots as if you got kicked in the nuts. What do you do? Eight years with this person is gone and you have no idea what to do. You start to think about different things. Then you start drinking and talking to different people on the internet. One of those people tells you about a cross dresser competition. You start thinking, telling yourself no that’s not for me. Now your mind really wonders about the subject. Telling yourself that you are just going to research the idea, you start looking on the internet. Searching for answers of questions that you have never thought of before. Feeling confused that this type of thinking would quite possibly make you think that you are gay. Or have any slight thought in your mind about the repercussions of the idea. You start looking further. You begin to understand that there are 2 thirds of the population of the Americas alone that have cross dressers whether openly or not. And they go on to live their happy lives. You ask yourself what now? Well a little voice in your mind starts to tell you look at clothing. You start searching for clothing. Not the clothing from your usual stores, no no. you are looking at clothing from Charlotte Russe, Express and Ann Taylor. Looking around on the websites, you see a few things that you say to yourself that you would wear this. Now your emotions an mind are racing. Trying to ask yourself why are you doing this. Instead you continue, looking at more and more websites. Creating accounts, adding things to your wish list, calculating how much each thing is. Doing homework so to speak. Now you are looking at the different things. So now you ask yourself, I have the tops, bottoms and shoes. Now I need a wig. So you begin looking at several of those. You don’t like any of them; you search for people who make wigs. Talking with several people explaining what you want the wig to look like. Your excuse, it is for my girlfriend you say. Asking all sorts of questions about color, length, how to attach it. After a few days you finally pick out the one you like. Then it hits you. Lingerie. You feel your dick getting a little erect. As you think about yourself wearing lingerie. Trying to figure out why, you go to victorias secret to look. You spend hours online trying to find the right one. Then you realize that you don’t have boobs. So how is a bra going to stay on you and look decent? So you look on yahoo search and see what kind of contraptions they have for imitating breasts. You find out they have water bras. So now you are looking at those. Finding out who has them and for what price. All the while you are doing this you are second questioning your sexuality. You gather all the information now the next step is deciding if you want to order the items. You tell yourself I will just get it and return it. So you order it with a credit card., all of it all the websites. A few days later it all arrives. You are so happy, like a kid at Christmas. You open the packages, looking at everything. Examining how to put things on, in what order they belong. You are so use to taking them off someone else, not paying attention how it goes. After a few hours, you get everything on, look in a mirror. After staring into the mirror for a few moments, you realize that you like it. This is known as cross dressing. There is absolutely nothing wrong with it. Sometimes that is just what men like doing. This is also known as a double life when it comes to the point where you go out in public. You are shy at first when you get to a club for gays and lesbians. Clubs where people like you are cross dressed and are happy. Openly gay and some that are not gay. You are faced with a dilemma. Should you mingle with people, or should you just stay at the bar and have a good time. Lets see what happens shall we? So you are sitting at a booth, hopefully in the dark, when a guy comes up to you and asks if he can buy you a drink. You look at him and nod. Who wouldn’t it’s a free drink right. He orders it at the bar and brings it to you. he then proceeds to sit down and tell you how pretty you are, his name and what he does. You smile and nod trying to act as feminine as possible. Feeling uncomfortable as he asks you questions about your life, you are trying to sound as feminine as possible. He leans in and tells you that you look hot for a guy. You relax and giggle a little, talking more and more to him. After the night is over you are finally realizing what happened at the club. You look at the mirror and realized that that was the most fun you had in a long time. This is it, Readers; this is the making of a double life. Now you start to go out every weekend wearing more and more clothes. Building your wardrobe with women clothes, meeting people, going out. Having fun. As the week fall off the calendar, you try to remember why you started doing this in the first place. You can’t remember, shrug your shoulders, and begin planning the next weekend. That’s when you realize that your family is coming over for that nice dinner that was planned a month past. So you start to panic, thinking what to do with the clothes in the closet. Just in case someone sees. Planning a lie. This is where it gets tricky, Readers. Look at that. You are thinking of a lie. Why not just be true. Tell your family what is going on. They are family; they are supposed to support your decisions, right? Wrong. Out of the 2 thirds of men cross dressers, there are 87 percent of them that families have disowned because of their habit. So what do you do? The night of, the doorbell rings. You greet everyone, and show off your new house. Someone goes into the closet to put their coat in, and sees all the clothes. You are asked in front of everyone who’s they are. Now, you have 2 choices. The truth or a lie. They are my girlfriends, you chose the lie. Now you are really ok with yourself for now. You tell everyone good night after dinner, dessert, and some wine. You go to sleep. The next day you are getting ready for a night out. So you are getting dressed in a cute little skirt, with a cute blouse. Putting on your shoes, and then waiting for a friend to pick you up the doorbell rings, you grab your purse open the door and it’s your father, coming to retrieve his coat that was left the night before. You have shocked looked on your face as well as on his. He throws a fit. He is yelling, waving his arms, all upset. You are upset as well. trying to calm him down so you can tell him how it makes you feel. He tells you to never call him again. You are upset. Your friend comes over an hour later. He wants to comfort you. you are feeling bad sitting there make up running as you cry in a bottle of whiskey. Feeling bad you don’t know what to do. You tell him everything. Everything about your girlfriend, cross dressing, your father. With you still crying, he tries to comfort you, telling you its okay. You are like for you not for what you dress. Making you feel better, but deep down inside you feel like shit. You tell him that you are okay. And you would like to stay there. He leaves to go clubbing, you go into the kitchen, grab a knife and slit your own throat. As you lay there bleeding out, you think about your whole life. And decide that it was a lie. You should have been more respected more loved. Readers, this is a prime example, why you should not be so mean to cross dressers. Understand what they are doing and for what purpose. Understand that this really happened. This is something that opened my eyes to cross dressers. They’re people just like me and you; the only difference is that they are outcasts by society. For what purpose? Because they try to be comfortable with themselves, and the only way they are able to do that is by cross dressing. This happened to a friend of mine. Readers, this same thing applies to gays and lesbians. The moral of this blog. Don’t be caught up in the hype that society wants you to be a part of, instead be a free thinker. Think of a person as an individual and not as a weird person. Not as a person that you need to be in fear of because he or she is different. You are different as well. Everyone is. So should we cast you out of society? No. instead we keep you because you are an individual. A person that we need to operate a truck or that person that bags our groceries at the local supermarket. We need each and every person because we all have a purpose.

Love Hurts

If you love someone why must they hurt you? Why must they take advantage of the situation and decide to physically and mentally hurt someone? This is the same person that says ‘I love you.’ This is the one that you go to sleep in the evening next to and wake up to their smiling face. The same smiling face that was just being smacked around the night before. As you look at her in the face smiling at you, you see the bruise on her eye that you gave her because she didn’t have your dinner ready for you when you got home. You had to wait for 5 minutes. Here is the smiling face that says ‘Good morning.’ You get mad because she is still lying in bed and not making your breakfast. You have a mad stern look on your face and she wipes the smile off her face and asks so quietly ‘Baby what’s wrong?” She looks so scared. What do you do? Do you hit her again like you did last night? Or do you take that as a chance to start a new life with her. Turn a new leaf over in the relationship. Which that is, show her the real love. The love that is supposed to be felt. You hear all time that men are going to jail for domestic abuse. You think to yourself that that can’t happen to you. So what do you do? Do you hit her? Yes that seems logical. You put your hand up and smack her on the face and yell at her for not making your breakfast. She starts bleeding from her lip. She cowers down from the blow that she took from you. Feel pretty powerful don’t you? Well how about this. As soon as you go to work she goes to the police and tells them everything. Takes pictures and a report, gets an arrest warrant. Guess what buddy, you are in the slammer. All for what? You wanted your breakfast and wanted to boss her around? Well now she is not living in fear anymore. You are behind jail cells where you belong while she is out with friends and spending your money. In addition the next day she goes to the court house and files for a restraining order. All the while you have no clue that this is going on. The judge grants her the restraining order. A few days later you get out after serving your term. The corrections officer gives you a form that states that you are being restrained from your lover. Now you are really pissed off. You go to a friends house that you know has a gun. You get the gun and go to her. You break the door down. You see her face as she tries to get away from you to get the phone. You grab her by the hair. Still holding the gun, you yell at her. You hit her in the stomach. She starts crying and fights back. Kicking and screaming. She manages to kick you in the leg. This angers you even more. You point the gun in her face. Pulling the hammer back, holding her by the hair. She pleads with you, ‘No, please don’t’. You tell her to shut up and pull the trigger. Shot rang out sounding like thunder. Her blood splatters on the wall. All over you, your clothes your face. You start to yell even more. In the distance you hear sirens. You know they are because of you. You just spent the last 3 months in jail, so you know what murder is going to be like. You look at her lifeless body. Head and brain matter strung all over the walls and sheets. Looking down at yourself with the same disgusted look on your face. The cops break down the door. You hear them coming running up the stairs. Still looking around you, then at the door. Lights are flashing in the hallway leading to the doorway. Footsteps are coming closer faster. And all you had to do was not hit her that last time and just start fresh. You look at the gun and put it in your mouth and squeeze the trigger.