The Law and Government

The hand that feeds.

Too Many Pandas

This entry has nothing to do with pandas in any quantity. In fact they will not be mentioned again in any form. I was just too lazy to come up with creative title and slacked and hacked on it instead of coming up with one. To be honest, I was more concerned that my entry here be advertised via my social network connections than I was about a title. So, I should not be shocked if people stop reading or feel disappointed. But that is how life goes. We get disappointed. So, I broke the rule of basic writing and skimped on the title. Do not be angry, think of it as not having enough money for an appetizer at Applebee’s.

I missed a bunch of holidays. An election. And who even knows what else. Basically, I have spent the last few months in a spiritual/emotional Hell hole. That, and immersing myself in science studies in preparation for medical school. Yes, medical school. Your dear Xavier has decided to become a medical professional. I am thinking genetic research. At this time you need not know more. Balancing my new forage into academia and my daily Foundation duties has caused me to be horribly neglectful of this here blog. The stories of my having to deal with some legal issues regarding an alleged incident involving escaped alligators and maimed children have been greatly exaggerated. All of the families allegedly involved have been compensated, and no children were eaten, or even killed.

Sadly, however, a tragic end did come to a dear, beloved friend of mine. A friend whom was almost a lover. A friend that I will always have a fond memory of and will never forget how much that dear friend meant to me. A couple of months ago, Darkside Radio went off the air. If I am not mistaken, my broadcast was the last for the show. I will miss the Darkside. It was one Hell of a ride and if I could do it all over again, I would be tormenting the airwaves with gothic sounds, inappropriate humor.

What brought me roaring back out of slumber was a discussion that I had the other day at my local gunsmith’s:

Proprietor: “You’ll love this one, Mr. Rothechilde. I have never seen a weapon fit a person so well.”

Me: “Ray, you say that every time, you flatterer. I could just kiss you. But, I am just not a rifle sort of guy, you know that.”

Proprietor: “Hey, I had to show it to you.”

Dude: “Hey guy, you should reconsider that. Pretty soon, the Government is going to make them illegal and you won’t be able to have them. What’s so funny? They’re going to take all of our guns! First these, then the rest!”

Me: “Silly man. I help pay for government. Those laws are not for me, I can and will do as I please, and they will allow it.”

Dude: “What’re you sayin’? I pay taxes, asshole!”

Me: “I do not. Well, very little, anyway. But I do pay to get lawmakers elected. Just not in taxes. Congress works for you; the politicians work for me. It is the best government that money can buy.”

This would be vanity were I not behind a tombstone.

This would be vanity were I not behind a tombstone.

And that brings me out to say my piece on the gun debate. Apparently, I missed a lot since I was in cyber-exile. Apparently, the country is afraid that the stern hand of Uncle Sam is going to reach into homes and take the firearms out, leaving a population at the mercy of thugs and murderous brigands. The government is not going to take guns from you because the government has more bullets than you. They also have bigger guns. And bombs. And robots that can kill a bunch of you from a distance. The guns you should be saying that you have rights to are already denied to you. I hate to say such things. I really do. But it is the horrible truth. And the reason why I am bringing this up is because the population is engaged in a torrid and sexy debate over what is to become of our cherished Second Amendment right.

This happens all of the time. Some lunatic goes lunatic-y and rudely kills a bunch of people with guns. Afterwards, everyone wants to start “doing something.” That doing something usually involves a statement on firearms. That statement starts the riffraff going on and on and fighting and fighting and eventually something is done, and no one is really happy.

Secretary: “Wow. That was insulting. Who are you talking about this time?”

Me: “Me? Insulting? Never. I am just keeping it real.”

Secretary: “That’s just a way to say ‘Nobody likes me because I tell the truth. People can’t handle my honesty. No. You’re a prick, sometimes. A big one. Not even a hard on, just a dick. And a bitch.”

Me: “You object to ‘riffraff?’I am glad I held back my actual opinion. By ‘riffraff’ I mean that ninety-nine percent that those crazy liberals claim are being selfish and greedy and not paying their share. And that was a little harsh, I am a very nice person when people are doing what I want and need them to be doing.”

Secretary: “Right, right. So, obviously you are not talking about yourself…”

Me: “Sarcasm does not become you, my dear. Okay, I lied, it is actually pretty sexy. But not I am not talking about myself. Those laws do not pertain to me.”

What I mean here is that I can do things that most cannot. Like, I pay to go to dinners that cost thousands per plate to listen to what my candidate has to say? Do you, the general public, do the same? No, you do not. You sit at home and listen to what we tell the media to tell you and then you argue about it. You argue about that and other petty things so that we can have the politicians do what they are elected to do, keep us wealthy and safe. I can have as many guns as I want. As many kinds as I want. Look, you know that guy who is going to start selling passenger rides into space? He has a bunch of dough. A whole lot more than you. Now suppose you are a genius. A Wile E. Coyote level genius. And you build a rocket. And you go out into the middle of the desert and test your rocket in the name of science. Where do you think you will wind up? Yes. Guantanamo. Or some hole similar since that one is closing (cough, cough).  Probably without a trial because your ballistic launch could be construed as a terrorist act, and thereby have you indefinitely detained.

However, I have gone to many dinners and can call up a Washington friend and invite them over to a dinner in their honor that will also raise funds for their re-election. Of course they will be safe because I have plenty of guns, and armed security to protect me from that ninety-nine percent. At this dinner I can secure a permit to launch people into to space, and not be a terrorist. I wonder if that other cat took that approach…

All Goth things must come to an end. Embrace the Darkside.

All Goth things must come to an end. Embrace the Darkside.

Am I being unfair? Really? Think of all of the people in prison right now. How many thieves? How many thieves? Loan sharks? People who founded that legalized institution of Check into Cash, or whatever they call it. There is a standard of law here and it is a stratified as our economic statuses. The less you have the less you can do…and get away with.

But I have gotten off track. I was simply trying to illustrate how myself and those like myself can have guns, why we can have guns, and why we do not need them because we can hire people from beneath us to use guns to protect us. However, the fear is that they are going to take away the firearms from those of you who are not of my ilk. The truth is the government has a vested interest in the general populace be armed. If for some reason those wiley Chinese actually invade, or whatever Jong  Il happens to be in North Korea really grows balls and marches troops in, the US government is counting on the armed citizenry to be fodder before the encroachment. Having some illegal alien take your job is one thing, but some angry Easterner stepping up to you with a rifle saying you are about to be forced to speak another language? Naah…most United States citizens will not have such a thing. The will take to the streets and show the invader what a good ass kicking is all about.

See? That is a necessity. A nation that defends itself costs very little for the government; the extra money can be used to fortify the hiding places of the elite (ahem), build more drones to provide air support for the civvies fighting off the invaders, and shuffle the politicians into Canada or somewhere. Hell, it is very possible that a good month of holding the East at bay in Alaska and California could go by before any dude in a military uniform shows up and says: “Good job, citizen! We’ll take it from here.” Subsequently ending the war and being lauded as heroes. While you, the rest of the nation, waits for Congress to stop bickering over how much relief money should be sent to aid those lives ruined by the war.

So, that is why the government will never take your guns. Nations with an unarmed populace will never enjoy that level of security. However, the problem then arises that the Gubmint may need to lay the smack down on the citizenry. You may cry for health care and equal pay and a sandwich one too many goddamn times and then something will have to be done. But wait? They left you with guns. Damn. That complicates things. To fix that, there are always those drones. They have all sorts of cool ways of seeing you and finding you and killing you from a mile away. So your rifle really does not help much. But, there always has to be a “but”. A big butt. To fill that but you limit ammo. Yes! Limit the ammo. Those rebels have guns, but they sure as Hell will not have as many bullets. Or drones.

Friday Night with Charlotte

Last week was quite a week. It started with scandal and ended with an ugly attempt to discredit The Foundation. The scandal was a bit of ugliness involving The Foundation’s war elephants. While it seems that the issue should have been over quickly and with a few payouts here and there, that was not to be. Fortunately, I had a fun night out with Charlotte the Friday before the treacherous attempt to ruin your beloved charitable organization.

I could go on and detail the incidents that led to the horrors of the weekend, but instead, I have decided to go the honest route and provide the transcript of a local news programs morning interview of yours truly.

Bert Berterson: “Good morning. I’m Bert Berterson appearing on this special edition of ‘Samurai City Saturday Morning’ with local mogul, Xavier Rothe…”

Me: “Mogul?! What the fuck did you call me? I am not a snowy lump on a ski slope! Nor am I some brandy sipping curmudgeon sitting by some fireplace in some cavernous, drafty, Victorian mansion. I am a humble orchard operator and general all around nice guy. I am really tired of your slander and libel. You really need to get over that camera incident with Manthony.”

B.B: “No, that is not the issue. True, there have been ‘incidents,” but they aren’t what this interview is about. We are here to discuss the elephant rampage that you and your associates with The Rothechilde Foundation are responsible for causing, avoiding, and admitting no responsibility.

Me: “Berty darling, that is exactly what I am talking about! Okay, so unfortunate things may have happened. People may or may not have been allegedly had the misfortune of standing where an elephant may have been walking. Whatever the case, there is no need to start throwing around faulty, unproven allegations that could result in a hefty lawsuit or potential burying in a shallow grave in Nevada or somewhere.”

B.B: “Did, did you just threaten to kill me and bury me in Nevada?”

Me: “I have done no such thing! I was merely stating things that could happen to a person. I have never gone to Nevada. The sand would destroy my wardrode, I believe. Speaking of which, I have been experimenting with adding color to my wardrobe…”

B.B: “Let’s not get off topic, Mr. Rothechilde, Xavier, may I call you Xavier?

Me: “I would not if I did not want to get ‘punished’ severely.”

B.B.  “Ahem. Before we begin, let’s refresh your memory. Ronald, roll the footage please.”

At this moment, a clip was played that showed a large group of people hanging about Downtown Samurai City. In the background, the Foundation Thunderdome stood majestically in the background. In the foreground, more people. Then the clip cut over to the ass-biscuit that I was currently being tormented by in this interview. Mr. Berterson was interviewing people who were “Occupying Samurai City.” Yes, the wave of civil unrest and general unhappiness of the populist poor had spread to Samurai City and the occupiers were occupying various areas of the city. This was exactly why we at the Foundation came up with the idea to have the war elephants. The occupiers had not come as far as the Thunderdome, but a group of counter-occupiers had begun to head in our direction. These counter occupiers were those who supported the one percent or something like that. Berterson interviewed a few of them as well. Approximately two minutes into the clip, a wave of people could be seen coming toward the camera. In the background, the image and sounds of a herd of elephants rapidly approached the news crew. Fleeing to a safe area (who knew there was a safe place from a herd of stampeding elephants?), the camera still recorded, Berty-baby’s panicked reporting in the background:

Bert: “This is Bert Berterson! A herd of elephants is now rampaging in downtown Samurai City! People are running everywhere as complete and total pandemonium has erupted! Oh my God! An elephant just tossed a police car into the side of the bank! This, this is terrible! Absolutely terrible! Hey! Someone grab that little girl! What the hell are you talking about? You do it! I’m Bert Berterson! I’m not getting stepped on by a freaking elephant! What the hell?! Is that elephant wearing a monocle and a tophat? My God the police have shot the elephant in the tophat! Tophat elephant is down! Holy shit! That elephant has that old lady by the neck! Wait, wait…the elephant has gently set her down. People we have a miracle, the elephant just set her…Shit! He kicked her! The elephant kicked her! Oh my…oh my…she’s, she’s barely moving. Paramedics are trying to help her. Okay, she’s giving the thumbs up. What? Headed where? Oh shit! Run! Ruuunnn!!!

And the clip ended there. To be honest, I was very upset by that footage. There was not one mention or shot of Sister Constance and the nun-wranglers coming in, taking down the rest of the pachyderms with tranquilizers and getting them safely back to the Thunderdome. Two elephants were slaughtered by the man on that tragic day. The monocle and top hat have been turned into monuments in the arboretum.

B.B: “Now, Mr. Rothechilde, clearly you could see what a tragic series of…hey! Are you texting?”

Me: “Yes, you were boring me with that biased video footage. There was no mention of the nuns and their success at bringing this unpleasantness to an end. Not to mention you subjected me to having to witness the brutal slaying of the vainglorious Lord Phant, a pachyderm of distinguished character and with obviously superior fashion sense. I was consulting our legal team to be sure that my comments will not be taken out of context and that the video delay is sufficient for Foundation security personnel to edit out any sensitive information before this hits the airwaves.”

B.B: “What?!”

Blue Boy?

Me: “You know, like they do on awards programs to filter out the potty mouths. Anyway, about fashion. As I believe we were discussing briefly earlier I have been experimenting with making changes to my wardrobe. I have been adding color. Unfortunately, I do not have a picture of me in the lavender and purple, or gold-brown-black, but I do have a picture of me in blue. Ronald, show the clip, please. As you can see, instead of my trademark black and white two-piece combination, I am sporting a stylish three-piece suit. I even have on a blue tie. Blue! And took a picture that I did not insist be made black and white or some sort of old-timey sepia look. Eventually, I will have some photos of me in the other color schemes soon, and I may come back to your program to discuss them again at that time. However, thank you for the interview, it has been a pleasant…”

B.B: “Excuse me, sir! I tell Ronald what to do around here, and we weren’t discussing fashion. We’re here to talk about your reckless unleashing of elephants on our fair city and what exactly you plan on doing about it! You have some things to answer for sir!”

Me: “I do no appreciate your tone, little man. Now see here, if it were not for those stupid one percenters parading about in their diamonds and smelly perfumes, the elephants would not have gotten upset and that misfortune would never have occurred. The elephants were simply a part of a parade that The Foundation was sponsoring in support of the “Occupy Samurai City if You Want, But Stay the Fuck Away from the Thunderdome” rally. As you can see the rally was a success, the Thunderdome is untouched and still stands as a glorious symbol of compassion and beauty. And we are not even going to sue the city over our beloved Lord Phant. Although it has caused Sister Constance a great deal of sorrow. We had to give her an extended vacation, pay raise, and purchase a new elephant, monocle, and top hat to alleviate her lust for revenge.”

B.B: “Are you saying that the life of that elephant is worth more than the hundreds of people that were injured in carnage laid out by your elephant horde? Are you seriously equating humanity with lower animals?!”

Me: “Well, hypothetically, my statement would appear to be putting elephants above the rest of humanity, but then who needs to be splitting hairs here? Besides, no people were killed, and only a few were maimed or otherwise seriously injured. Further, the occupation business was horribly bad for the already weakened economy. Those people should have been out working and those one percent counter-protesters should have been out subjugating masses or otherwise managing some means of economic oppression. The fact is, those protesters were in all likelihood unemployed; do we need to show the world on the national news that we are a nation of corpulent, unemployed people? No sir! No, I say! If our impoverished looked like those pot-bellied Ethiopians, then maybe we would have something to bitch about. However, we are a corpulent nation that sits on couches and and gets to watch seventy-seven different versions of ‘Law & Order.”

B.B: “Mr. Rothechilde! That is completely reprehensible! Do you even hear yourself? Listen, the Vice President of The Rothechilde Foundation has even come out and said that mistakes were made…”

Me: “Yes! Mistakes were made. Many mistakes! Chief among them was letting that bastard out of the dunge…er, basement during the protests. Had he remained sedated and properly confined, our efforts to fix this bit of unpleasantness could have come to an end much sooner, and I would already be enjoying the adulation of the citizenry of this fair city instead of sitting here and subjecting myself to this horrid interview from a man with the fashion sense of a Mogwai.”

B.B: “What are you talking about?!”

Me: “Your suit is terrible. I know a guy, let me help you, baby.”

B.B: “You’re obviously out of touch. With me and the citizens of Samurai City. They don’t love you, no one loves…”

You are very welcome

Me: “Oh my! I ought to shoot you right in your ugly face! You smug son of a…excuse, what is it? Yes, I understand. Excuse me, that gentleman was one of our attorneys, he suggested, and smartly I should add, that by ‘shoot you right in your ugly face’ that I actually meant “write you a sternly worded note of disapproval, perhaps an email cc’d to your station’s management. As for the love thing, surely you are mistaken For example, take a look at this lovely bit of art; Ronald, show the picture please.”

B.B: “Now see here! Ronald is not one of your lackeys…”

Me: “Obviously, the artist appreciates me and felt that I was worthy of being immortalized in one of her brilliant creations. And then there is Sister Constance. For a nun, she really does go out of her way to accommodate my eccentricities (I am ignoring your lackey comment, by the way. Manthony with surely discuss that with you.) Then, and not the least, there is my personal secretary, whom does me an innumerable amount of service in great variety, and makes sure that I can function on a daily basis. And Charlotte! Dear Charlotte! Why just last night, we went out to a local titty bar…”

B.B: “You can’t say that on public television and this has nothing to do with the elephant incident.”

Me: “I believe I did just say that, and this has everything to do with the elephants. There is nothing better to ease the pain of a deceased elephant friend and huge publicity hit like going out to see some boobs. And this was a great night. There was s lady there named Suzie Malone. She did some classy burlesque dance, magic tricks, and she swallowed a sword. Man, that gave me ideas, I tell you! She even danced around with fire. Fire! Strapped around her waist and in the shape of hand fans she danced with fire. I even had my picture taken with her. It is a topless picture. I am not topless, she is, or else I would have brought it to show. I am not opposed to showing the boobs on television; I just do not want to share them with you.”

B.B: “That is all well and good, sir. But what does any of this have to do with the damage you have brought and the poor people that are suffering because of your mistake?”

Me: “You just really want to beat a dead elephant. Man. Fine. While it is unfortunate that a few people may have received a bump or two because of a few rambunctious elephants, we are not a bank, mortgage company, or publicly traded corporation with stockholders to rape and pillage. The government will not bail us out like they did the people who the occupiers are bitching about (is that what they are bitching about? or is it Obamacare, Afghanistan, gay marriage, or Rick Santorum’s tranny porn stash?). No, as always in these trying time The Rothechilde Foundation will rebuild the damaged property. We have already purchased some of the more severely damaged property and found locations for business owners to rebuild and relocate. We have even offered to allow these business to use the Foundation’s contractors for repair and construction and infrastructure at prices that are much lower than the local business clowns. We are hiring many of the disgruntled occupiers for this Samurai City Reconstruction, and all of this will benefit the local economy. Lord Phant did not perish in vain.”

B.B: “It sounds like all you are doing is making a selfishly greedy cash grab and attempt to increase your personal stake and interest here!”

Me: “And is that not the American Way? Thank you, Samurai City and good day. This is Xavier A. S. Rothechilde, signing out.”

B.B: “Hey!”

And the screen goes black…

Note: Mr. Rothechilde has always reveled in, and proudly proclaimed his status as being a hack writer. If you disapprove of the ending, then you were not paying attention to the original disclaimer. No refunds or apologies should be expected and none will be made.


Rothechilde Foundation and Trust Legal

Who Cares About Organizations? We Have Pissy Pants Plants to Cultivate!

This particular board meeting was particularly boring. Smeagol, our not-esteemed Vice President was in the middle of discussing the status of our maintenance staff. It seems that all of them, from custodians to handyfolk to groundskeepers had decided to organize and threatened to strike if we did not recognize their union and a few other demands. Personally, I had stopped listening to his blathering; a few states in the union have already illustrated the uselessness of organized labor and decided that eliminating them would be the next best attack on the middle class.

Why should the Foundation be any different? I understand they are not civil employees like those the states have started to assault (while smartly avoiding any reductions to those that govern), but the Rothechilde Foundation should be innovative. It is only a matter of time before corporate America follows the lead of state governments and I intend to set precedent rather than use them as defense.

I was ready to call for a lunch recess when the meeting was blessed with a frantic interruption from Sister Constance:

Sister Constance: “We have been violated!”

Vice President: “Excuse me, but we are trying to dis…”

Sister Constance: “Shut it! Or I will…”

Me: “Okay, everyone relax. What seems to be the problem? As this seems to be most pertinent, I will allow the breech of protocol. I assume this is agreed without needing a vote as the only objection is sure to come from the boring Vice President.”

Smeagol: “Hey..!”

Everyone Else: “Agreed.”

Me: “Now, Sister Constance, what seems to be the issue?”

Sister Constance: “Yesterday, all was well in the arboretum, it smell lovely and the koalas and alligators were content. Today, it smells like pee pants! The koalas are distressed and the ‘gators are cranky. We can’t have an arboretum that smells of pee pants!”

Charlotte: “Manthony, didn’t you just have some new plants delivered to the Thunderdome?”

Manthony: “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Madame Secretary: “Wait, I seem to recall receiving an appointment confirmation from some landsc…”

Manthony: “Shh! Maybe she is smelling mossy hobos?”

Vice-President: “Mossy hobos?”

Manthony: “Yeah, dey unwashed asses grew some moss cuz dey so dirty. Dat moss is camouflage and shit, so you think they plants and not people.”

Vice-President: “Outrageous! How can you be so insensitive?!”

Me: “Indeed! These mossy, malodorous cretins should have never gotten into the Thunderdome, particularly the arboretum! Why did the alligators not eat them or koalas maim them!” This, this is potentially serious. I knew I should have carried a larger pistol today…”

Charlotte, Sister Constance, Smeagol: “What?! That’s terrible!”

I was obviously surprised by the strangeness of that chorus. I was not alone in noticing this, and the equally observant, still outraged and now angry Charlotte spoke up:

Charlotte: “You bastard!!! I ought to taze you to death for making me have an outraged outburst with the Vice President! That’s low. Anyway, we’ll deal with that later; this anti-hobo propaganda of yours is rather disturbing to me. Personally, I like hobos and object to any mistreatment of them be they mossy or not.”

Sister Constance: “The critters are meant to add beauty to the Thunderdome while punishing violators (punishing the evil would probably eliminate most of this board, Mr. Rothechilde…) of its splendor, not to attack hobos. They are allowed free passage. Besides, they could be managed cheaply with cigarettes, sandwiches, and vodka.”

Vice-President: “You two are sick! That is NOT what I meant. I find your attitude toward the homeless disgusting.”

Charlotte: “Well, if they are living in the arboretum, they are technically not homeless.”

Manthony: “…and there ain’t no boxcars up in there, so they ain’t hobos either.”

Me: “They still can be hobos, trains are not a requirement. I check the Alpha Hearse for hobos all of the time.”

Madame Secretary: “No matter what they may be, they should not inhabit the arboretum unsanctioned, at least not without contributing to the expense of their inhabitation.”

Me: “Well, we could arm the hobos, provided they did not turn on us, employees, or ‘legal’ visitors. That would allow them to pay for their upkeep.”

Charlotte: “Upkeep?! Upkeep?! These are humans we are talking about, they deserve respect! Asshole, they are not pets to be kept.”

Me: “My bad. They could pay for their room and board.”

Madame Secretary: “Much better. And that is acceptable. I’ll draft a labor agreement immediately.”

Sister Constance: “This is ridiculous! There is a disgusting piss-plant stinking up the fucking arboretum and I want it out! Why in the Hell are we discussing imaginary hobos?”

Me: “Damn, swearing nuns are hot!”

Charlotte: ” Hell yeah…”

Manthony: “Look, da new flowers make a good toxin. It will paralyze a fool, then make him wet hisself like a baby.”

Us: “Eww!”

Madame Sectetary: “How is that beneficial?”

Manthony: “Hell, I jus’ thought it was cool. An’ I needed space to cultivate my plants, so I stashed ’em next to the marigolds. Rabbits even hate dat shit, so I figured it was kosher.”

Me: “Well it is certainly not a cheeseburger or pork, but not necessarily kosher. What if the board authorizes the construction of a green house for ‘research horticulture and botany?'”

Manthony: “Dat’ll work!”

Sister Constance: “I don’t care, just get the pissy pants plants out of the arboretum main.”

Charlotte: ” You’ve been watching too much Harry Potter, nunsy; you’re starting to sound British. Does that count as a motion and second?”

Madame Secretary: “I would say it does…”

Smeagol: “Wait! We need to discuss this! Besides, we were supposed to be discussing whether to accept the terms of the maintenance staff and their desire to unionize. We have abandoned the who point of what we were discussing and moved on to nonesense.”

Manthony: “Point of Order! A motion has been made and seconded; the Vice-President is out of line! Besides, protecting our shizzle is always on topic, boyee.”

Me: “Mr. Treasurer is correct, the Vice President will shut the fuck up! Besides, if we fire them all before they unionize, we can fire them. If they come near the Thunderdome we can sue them, have them arrested, or shoot them in self-defense. Now, all in favor of building a new greenhouse for research purposes, say ‘Aye.'”

And with that, the Foundation Thunderdome began the process of building a new research facility to explore the joys of potentially toxic, stinky plants. It seems that the workers would have to wait once again to have their day. They should be fortunate our distraction allowed us to avoid firing them for one more day. That is exactly how the lower classes need to live their days…waiting and happy for any crumb they can get; this is the home of the American Dream, no?

Reading the News: A Few Items That Caught My Eye

If you are a person whom happens to be familiar with my typical blog entries, you would also now be a person whom has noticed that my posts have not been particularly “Xavier-y.” For the unitiated, or newy initiated, this means that my writings are hardly deserving of the dark, pseudo-gothic satire that it is supposed to present for your reading enjoyment. To be completely honest (which may imply that typically I may not be completely honest…but that is neither here nor there for the time being), I have been off of my game a bit as this is a new blog, and I am still figuring out the basics of formatting and establishing a group of readers; my previoys MySpace audience is non-existant and the Facebookers just avoid the blogscene methinks.

As a result, there have been few new tales of the adventures of the Foundation Board of Directors, my brushes with those who are victims of the establishment, my wonderful, black Alpha Romeo that has been tricked out to look like a coffin, etc have all been brushed aside as things slowly progress here in this new style and format. While the new tales have been few, the news has been much…and alarming.

The CNN story that first caught my eye was that of Christian Choate. Actually, the very first thing that caught my eye was a story about the tornado that decimated Joplin, MO, but I had already watched that on the news as I prepared to head to the Thunderdome and was not a part of my online news fiesta. Anyway, Christian apparently was killed by his father and step-mother and no one knew about this for two years. No one asked or searched for the kid. The siblings in the house kept quiet as their parents kept this boy caged and beat him regularly and eventually to death. The main question is the title of the article: “why did no one know the boy was missing?”

That is what gets me the most. Here in the State of Michigan, we have been banned from smoking in bars and such, it is extremely difficult for teenagers to driver’s licenses, and we get charged an extra fee for being an irresponsible driver added to any driving infraction. Basically, the government here is always in our faces. Having an economic edge keeps The Man out of my face for a minute or two, but there he is nonetheless; all up in my grill for little shit. And the Feds are not much better – The Big Brother (also The Man), is so occupied with sexual reproductive rights of individuals, regulating the private lives of homosexuals, and protecting big banks that foreclose on homeowners like crabs on a hobo-whore that important things like a little boy who suddenly disappears goes unnoticed. I understand the family claimed he was homeschooled, but if we have sat and allowed the State of Arizona to pass Nazi legislation that can demand that any person of color “show them their papers,” then at least someone could have politely asked: “what happened to that one boy who used to live here?” They claimed he ran away; I had always assumed that parents looked for their children. I guess you would not if he was supposed to be caged…

Yesterday, I wrote about the lack of the Apocalypse, and how said non-event disappointed my plans to hunt zombies. While denied the living dead skeet shoot bonanza, I was able to find out just what those who were expecting the End are now thinking since the day has come and gone and it seems that everyone is still here. Apparently, while they are disappointed )and some are probably wondering what they are to do since they quit their jobs and made plans for the hereafter), they are taking solace in the fact that the dude who predicted the Rapture was a victim of his age old foes: arithmetic and science. You see, it appears that our non-Doomsday prophet has made this assertion of the End of Days before and was thwarted by forces of reason and education:

“Camping, a degreed engineer (not a pastor) who claims to have made the Bible his “university” for more than 50 years, has experience with failed prophecies. He once claimed the world would end in September 1994, later chalking that snafu up to biblical miscalculations and the need for further study. This time around, he said earlier this year, he had no doubts.”

After re-reading that, he miscalculated something Biblical; I was mistaken in my sarcastic snarkfest a couple of paragraphs ago. However, I do feel vindicated: a man who has studied a the University of the Bible for fifty years should be above such mathematical error when making biblical calculations. And he should know enough to know that assuming he was going to be taken and not left should the world have gotten all Rapture-y is a bit arrogant, and he should have made preparations for those of his followers who gave up everything so that they could join him in going to Jesus’ crib. In the end (which, I guess it is not), Harold Camper predicted the End and left to meet that end. However, I have to ask myself if he gave up what his followers gave up in order to move on from this world. I mean, he has a job still, correct? And I am certain that he still has his cash to keep him comfortable until he dies. For those who gave up everything only to discover that you are now not getting everything in the afterlife and are staying in the here and now, take solace in knowing that throughout history, people have been predicting the Apocalypse. I am sure that you are not the first to now find themselves broke, jobless, and homeless, but still faithful nonetheless. Besides, as the article points out, there is still hope for the end to come…keep your head up.

Now, for the most exciting part of this post! So exciting to me that I just had to use an exclamation point at the end of that sentence. It just so happens that while I was getting all excited about the prospect, I may not have been accurate prepared for the plague of zombies that would have been ripe for the hunting as I was predicting/hoping for this past Sunday. I should have seen what the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention had to say about being properly prepared for a Zombie Apocalypse. After reading the article, I quickly made sure that the Thunderdome was adequate prepared for an assault from the living dead and then drove back to my Estate to see if I did have the items needed should I be at home when the zombies strike. As it turns out, the only thing that I was missing were the extra gallons of water. As a precaution, there are now very many gallon containers stored in the Thunderdome basement, and the facility is fully prepared for a zombie invasion. Kudos to the CDC for raising awareness in the coolest of ways. I think that has been the most interesting thing that I have encountered online in a long time.