Damon of the Mural

 I have spent the last few days contemplating the lack of enthusiasm in the hench, a sort of laxidaisacal thought, to quite the end result.

The hench are bored, as they oft are, devoid and bereft any entertainment (re: hero bustin), so they have an increased risk of petty crimes.*

The ending being a severe lack in available quality hench. The remedies to cure this illness varies from villain to Villain.

In this spirit, heh, I have reached across the aisle in bipartisan aptitude to acheive a new fresh approach to henching. No longer must we seek out dutiful hard working hench, they will come to us.

You. I'm sending henchmen to you.

I've already had some wonderful volunteers, hench are en route!

I must refrain from naming names just yet, several media disclosure releases later. I can tell you about a wonderful fellow I have conscripted at a mural.

His name is Damon.

And he is going to paint me a masterpiece.

Soon.

-aw

*A whopping 72% more likely to pack a whopping thirst for violence after being left to their own iron soldered devices a MetaNews source spokewomern has said.

Smoke Signals 2020

 You should take a goggle at the yow tubs, I will be dumpin lots soon at knots

See ya round the Multiverse, action word!

Ataxia is our friend. Not foe.

Yow, tubby!

 Don’t ya just hate it when you can’t get rid of a bomb?

https://agentwraith5.blogspot.com/2013/07/20-20-more-like-40-40.html

We haven’t slept in days. Just floating now.

Are You Ready?

 Degenerate.

Murderwurst™

Because 'crow-stuffed sausages', that's why.

Timeslip?

These things happen, I hear.
Just one more..

The Winter of 2012...

No one remembers The Journey To The Center.

Because this happened?

The End Of The Line

Okay, so, it's been a bit since I've trampled your brain stem.

I've missed you all.

I've been watching, as is my prerogative, and waiting.
I have enough now, information, mind you, let's not get it twisted, to destroy you with.

I've been working, TOO MUCH, really, and it's all starting to pay off.

You have been working too, it seems, and we're going to do a little of that REAPING of what you have SOWN.

I visited very close to you recently.
I've had some time to travel.
It was all the hard work I put in.
It allows for 'vacation'.
Although, I didn't do much resting.

I spent most of my time consulting the many henchmen in my employ*. Yes, IN YOUR TOWN.
Or, very close to it, in some cases.

I will miss you, Colorado, the most.
It has the most beautiful landscape.
How can you look at those mountains, those skylines, and have an evil thought?

When you are overflowing with hatred.

Oh, little droogs, who think you have the upper hand.. Because you can't see it, you think nothing is going on?  Because you can't see it, it must not exist?

Oh, you are ASSHOLES.
That's as far as it should go.
Nope, not you. You have to aspire to Douche-nozzle Extraordinaire and put on a cape.
Or cowl.
Or mask.


Your wishy-washy, fence-riding, neutral position is now compromised.

ON NOTICE...

I'll be seeing you.

-aw

*I don't actually pay them. Not cash, anyways. But you would be surprised what folks will do for a Klondike bar.

20-20, more like 40-40

Hindsight.
Not the first time I've discussed this, not the last.

The Black SUV that went over Golden Gate. I had no idea you were in there Jensen.

Those 'wild' nights when we decided to order from that 'new' 'Authentic' 'Indian'/'Mexican' 'restaurant'.
How did their flyer keep ending up in the desk? HOW?!?

Track 6, album in progress.
If dubstep could eat Finnish Death Metal, it's excrement would sound better. Can't play any instrument and my voice sounds like a woodchuck in a cement mixer.
Contemplating seeking 'booking'. Perhaps a local pub?

Completed the 57th Annual Henchmen Acquisition Conference.
Bunch of creepy white guys with money, pawing at the 'fresh meat'.
It's gotten even weirder since Pulosi left. We had a booth this year, but I doubt anyone will invest in Los Sauces.. 'We export accidents!' Seriously, Orlando? That was the best you could come up with?

I put 'Walking In Shadows' together in a hardcopy format, gathered all the posts, strange pictures, and omitted videos, for obvious reasons (note: Videos are integrated eventually, remember E#384216. Responsible for completion).
It was pleasing, perusing maniacal pages of chaotic wonderment.

I completed three manuscripts, a fictional story of vampires, magic, and missile silos in Mexico (a seedy cloak-and-dagger affair to astound and terrify you!)
 .. The Highly Detailed Adventures of Bob, the goblin (it's been 10 long years, apologies to Mark. you will be missed); a graphic graphic novel
 ..and a boring who-dunnit where I describe certain persona's, their habits, the discernible pattern in their habits (day-to-day, month to year, in easy calendar entries! if you use the accompanying download link you can use our FREE* App that works with ANY** phone!)

I've started shopping publishers. The difficulty is, the work is subpar.
I breezed over details with Bob, he's a second string flunky of nearly every villain this side of Faerun, and I'm leaving a lot to the artist's interpretation. There is also the issue of the prolific use of profanity. Not many publishers are willing to waste in on an F-bomb every panel.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" - Why can't we do this? Who says we do this? Is this what we do?

shut. the. fuck. up.

Crying?
You want the mask, the META?
Or you want the id, the MEAT?

Pics or it didn't happen.
Video or it didn't happen.
It happened or it didn't happen.
You keep saying that, but I don't think it means what you think it means.

I could share this.. with the breadth of the internet.. and billions can see, comment, praise. Or I could not, no one would know.
Either of which, the end remains the same:
it doesn't mean they care.

Now go back.

That's all I wanted.

For you people.

You HUMANS.

To care.

Full circle, full circle.

*The application program itself is indeed free! The setup and installation fee are waived after the first 90 days of service, given that the account stay in goodstanding and payments timely, the account never received a late notice, the account never received a disconnect notice, the account never received a you-should-be-texting-while-changing-lanes-on-the-freeway, and the owner of the account has a Bachelor's Degree in Mithril Sciences.

**Any. Meaning NOT YOURS.

YAWN

It's not a phrase.
It's not quotable.
It's a FUCKING ACTION.

Literally meaning a lack of.. action.

You are boring me, little droog.
Boring me.
But, I've heard that only the boring get bored, so this does not apply.
At least to me and mine, anyways.
We are always up to NO GOOD.

Let's get something straight you chubby troll (notice I didn't say little? you are nowhere near that! and to define this particular use of 'troll', it is the ugly creature that likes to eat goats whom lives under a bridge), I don't like you.
I don't like any humans, least of all obese degenerates like yourself.
You have one accomplishment in my eye (it's STILL OUT) and that's gaining my ire.
I am not jealous of you, I don't envy you, I just don't like you.
Take the human descriptor out and I still don't like you.
A manatee doesn't have any uses except to lounge there and be fat.
You are a waste.
You are utilizing valuable oxygen (that could be put to MUCH BETTER uses) and getting fatter. That's a tax we are no longer willing to pay. Your right to life has been revoked. It's time to abort you.

I said it (RE: lawyers).

In the coming months, you will begin to see a change in this page.
Not a revision or destruction of contact and information, what is is.
A more straightforward approach really, a direct attack from the front.

I have accumulated files upon files of information about you and yours' illicit activity and it's due for exposure.
Just to name a few of those soon to be DOXXED (I said the SECRET WORD! AAAAAGGGHHH!)?
I could play dumb, we all know how EASY that is for me, but I will oblige this one thing and move on.

We'll see how long it will take you to recover once the BOMBS START DROPPING.

My initial difficulty is disseminating the teams from the individuals. All of The Initiative are not at fault, but Jack Cero has cross hairs painted on his ass. RCSM isn't at fault, but Jesus Jones is a walking accident. Skiffytown, Black Monday Society, and more.. yet their individual members have so much dirt they could fill the Grand Canyon to its brim.
There's more to that, but not for now.

Then there is 'villainy'.
Groups is somewhat of a misnomer for 'villainy'. They have little to no cohesion to begin with, the individuals only looking out for themselves, there is little need for structure and even less want it.
But I will divulge the grim reality of R.O.A.C.H., the Roaming Eye, the Legion of Doom, and more.

It's all coming out, because you can consider this THE WASH.

Starting very soon, Agent Wraith will bring you the juiciest and dirtiest secrets of this so called community, he will shed light on the seedier aspects they DON'T WANT YOU TO KNOW.

It's all coming to a head and the fingers of PUBLIC CONSUMPTION are pressing down.
In a few short months, the gooey abscess will rupture.

Good news?
Once it has been lanced and drained, the healing can begin.

-aw

p.s. Coming soon to a blogtalk radio show near you, The Exposé.

A Return To Basics

Yes, that's what's important.
What I want to do.
What. I. Want.


"We can destroy what we have written, but we cannot unwrite it."

I tire so much of the back and forth, dear brothers. I really do.
I've viddied enough horrorshow to know when enough is enough. My gulliver is quite full of bolnoy cal.
Do you have the keeshkas to swallow this drivel?
Can you cheest your glazzies and see through the crypt?

Welly, welly, welly, well. Choodesny, my droogs.

You did well bratty, covered your tracks. You forget the plug holes, though. Left them wide open.
Maggots fester in the plott, there.
You'd do well to scrub harder.

Lord Malignance.
Such an oomny koshka.
There are a few things beyond even you, shoot. Deny, deny, deny.
You put the shiya out for the nohz, expect nadmenny bratchnys to shive.
Remember that Google eats your longwinded comments? Remember the accusations?
Still no appypolly loggy.
Tis a platching dook.
Erase, hide, deny what you can.
You talked of trust of honor, but where is it?
Where in that gulliver is locked the polezny bits?
Not a prestoopnik, clean those otchkies. I'm beyond that now.
Maliggy's favorite pischa? Crow.
"Better wrong than appear weak", right?
Wrong.
Better right to appear strong.
With intelligence.
That sink in? It get all comfy in that smushy spongey mozg?

There is no war here.
This is no 'slap fight'.

From the front, as is your tactic.
Not even a Gentleman's Duel.

There are no characters here.
This is not META.
This is not fiction.

"But where I itty now, O my brothers, is all on my oddy knocky, where you cannot go. Tomorrow is all like sweet flowers and the turning vonny earth and the stars and the old Luna up there. ... And all that cal."

Put the pyahnitsa scoteena to pasture and step front, evil odin.
Cast aside that shlem, privodeet BEtter things.

Skolliwoll oobivat, hen-khorm.
Some dhomy devotchka got you hound-and-horny?
How was the zheena? How sammy were they?
Just how bugatty are they?
Merzky sods? Lies, I bet. As usual with METARDS.
Merzky rots full of em. All they can mounch.

Oddy-knocky that lot. Dwell in the mud for too long, you take on it's character.

"Eat this sweetish segment or spit it out. You are free."

Not going to sit and stew in me platties, Maliggy. Not a tear on this end.
Villainy, grazzy wasteland that it is, will continue to do as it pleases.
These villains will do that.
The new and the old.
There are no rules. Never have been.
It roils and changes shape, it morphs and breaks molds.
It will always be this way. Always.
Each new goloss is a new view, a new way. Their way.
Not mine. Not yours.
Theirs.
Guide as you might, lead by example as you might.
Some chafe. Some sway.
Always plotting.
Always their own.
Their methods their own.
Their tactics their own.
Not all gentlemenly or cordial.

Always, as it wishes.

-aw

Metacognology

I see things that I shouldn't.

I was deluding myself, you see, slipping into complacency and humor, allowing my mind to wander and gather moss. I was lazy, letting many projects go instead of forging through and pushing them to completion. In this ignorance, I have become less a hazard, more a nuisance.

This cannot stand.

It cannot sit any longer either.

It's gotten chubby.

Normally, I would just shrug, 'So what, who cares' and move on.

Your collective bullshit is exactly that.

Bullshit.

But I have some 'splainin' to do. Don't I?

This blog has become almost as much of a nuisance as I have. The words, five dollars or less, are troublesome to those who cannot stand to read.

I know, I know.
READING!
Who does that anymore?

Well, you will have one less thing to ignore soon.

Things have changed since my first steps into the public's view. I maintained a discreet profile, at first, allowing me to observe without the need for justification or critique. It allowed me to establish profiles on many, 'heroes' and 'villains' alike. Plotting was crucial, advanced recon imperative, for my survival.

But now?

There are so many T-shirt ninjas, motocross rejects, cosplay pros and fails, and the occasional LARPer thrown in for good/evil measure. There are so many that we've lost count.

The cast is literally thousands.

The actual people?
Oh, that could be just as many, thousands more, or maybe a mere hundred or so with multiple accounts.

It's difficult to navigate them.

I have Facebook (where nearly all of them can be found) and it helps, but not when you have to screen 'friend' requests for the occasional Angel. It cannot be stressed that I'm stressed about the stress that is Stressbook.

There could be multiple account holders, of course! These are 'heroes and villains' we're talking about here! Villains, villains, and 'villains'! Evil-doers! Breaking rules is implied. Of course there could be one with multiple accounts. Probably one for their persona, one for their real life, and countless others for whatever mood has struck them!

And 'heroes'? HA! 'Heroes' are not entirely unlike vigilantes (We hate vigilantes), who have never been proponents of the LAW. Or rules. Especially rules on some internetery-based socialization platform. So there are probably many with many. If you catch my meaning.

Through all this a particular field of interest has risen: META.

What is META, you say?
Well, aside from screaming like Samuel L. Jackson, asking if you speak English, and possibly quoting some random passage from The Holy Bible about justice, vengeance, and wrath (a fun game! flip to any page and see if you can find one without any of these.. proves interesting), I could always just say look it up.
Instead, I'll give you an overview of the 'sandbox' and explain with plenty of METAphors you can disseminate.

META (short for metafiction) is supposed to be about CREATING.

'Sandbox' is an appropriate term, referring to childhood (where many of these folks wish they could return), when all the kiddies would be put into a small barrier filled with sand to play in.

Play.

There are/were rules with it, of course.

Play nice. Don't bust up someone else's castle. And for your own sake don't eat any of it (that's not a candybar, don't touch it)! Roles, however, bend these rules. A 'villain', who never plays by the rules (unless they are to his/her/it's benefit), is expected to push their participation to whatever limits they themselves impose. You want to trash someone else, you can. You want to tear down someone's moat, go for it. 'Villains', people, thrive on the destruction of someone else's beloved creation.
It sows turmoil, anguish, and some (most) actual revel in your tears over your hard (hardly) work.

For the most part, it's just fun. It's about fun.

It's about creating something fun and lasting, something that can be reviewed and laughed at, or mocked and shunned. They all do it. Even if it's 'Patrol Logs'.

I suspect that 'heroes' do this aplenty. Create fictional accounts to make themselves 'legit' and further themselves in the community. There are some (few) who do not, who are truthful (boringly so, even), that post for the betterment of the community and humanity as a whole.

Then there are the LIARS.
Flat accounts, despicable schemers who stop at nothing to see themselves as more than mere TROLLS and if it means posting on your timeline, Youtube comments, notes, blog, or whatever relentlessly to garner some form of attention (ill or otherwise), then so be it.

Some just want to see the world burn.

Some just want to see you squirm.

Some just want a cheap laugh at someone else's expense.

META, metafiction, META REALITY, has become a gag.

Not a gimmick, not a phase, just a gag.

It is the mask they now hide behind, more dangerous than the literal mask they cover their faces with.

Shit on your project, because that's 'META'. It's within their 'character'. It's what their 'character' would do, so stick to it, you can't blame em.

I would say that it should mean more, but that's a fool's ideal.

META is still practiced by a very select few. A select few who don't care what the naysayers (re: TROLLS) have to say. They do it not for 'community' (save their own) but for their own entertainment.
Which is what it is supposed to be.
In the 'sandbox', creating, for their own benefit. For whatever release is achieved, for their own goals, for their OWN entertainment. If you want to join in, you usually can. They actually like interaction. It spreads the cast over continents, across the WORLD.

But there are some (quite a few, actually) who exist to shit on it. Petty attention-whores whose Prime Directive is to eat and take a shit on whatever it is that isn't promoting them at the time. Lacking guile, these dogs are ready to tear anything you do down, just for kicks. It's these who have made META leave a bad taste in many participants mouths. Not many want to go near these fucks. Not because they're not nice, or talk shit constantly, or are rude, or stupid, because they are poisonous.

Yet, there are some who would defend this behavior? You would think that an avid supporter of META would be outspoken against such deplorable behavior. For the most part, you would be correct, but there are those who do stand at their side, defending them.

Not their actions, no, that would be admitting some sort of wrong, and they could never have that.

Self-righteous little fuckers, gremlins, that want to bust up your shit, because 'It's funny' (RE: TROLLS).

You can tell (quite distinctly) who these people are.

When you upload your video, post your latest blog, or whatever, they are the first to run their mouths about how stupid/boring/dumb/insipid* it is. Old news, they say. Even though they themselves have nothing to add that is constructive. Even their criticism falls flat.

*I like using words they can't understand.

These bad apples have spoiled the bunch. Someone decided to feed them, Dear Reader, and here they stay, continuing to infect all that is done. Every step of progress is dogged, shadowed, by these rats in human skin. For every foot forward, they cut off a toe (even their own) to stay progress. To stay creativity. To stagnate, belittle, and staunch intelligent entertainment. Well, as long as it's your brand.

It's all about THEM, you see.

I should be PROUD of these fuckers, really. They stand up and are heard.
They make their point (no matter how pointless) and they make it publicly and loud.
But, alas, they are a silly people.

META is supposed to be different from reality. It's an escape (for some) and a place to create. A place to envision your wishes true, a platform to encourage the growth of your brand and others' brands.

It should be separate from the REAL WORLD. It's an escape from the REAL WORLD.

Not to these folks.

There is this term that was coined, of which I will not speak here, and they DO IT. THEY DO AND YOU KNOW THEY DO. YOU KNOW IT AND BY DOING NOTHING ABOUT IT, YOU CONDONE IT. YOU PLAY NICE WITH THEM WHILE KNOWING THEY DO THIS, MAKING YOU JUST AS CULPABLE.IT'S HAPPENING TO YOU RIGHT NOW AND YOU STILL DEFEND THEM? Hmm? What's that? Oh, I should what? Explain?
Too cryptic? This too shall pass. It's a minor annoyance that's set for disconnect. Very soon. Until then, I agree, let me explain.
It's a process, really.
They pretend to be your friend. They act like your best bud.
They get your information, by any means necessary, to ENSURE YOUR COMPLIANCE.
That's right. Your name, your phone number, your job's phone number, your address, maybe even your credit card information, but the most important of all to someone who keeps their identity a secret? Your FACE.
Once they have it, you better play ball.

Lock step, fatty, get in line, or we bust you out to whoever, however we could crush your META-existence with.
One less fuckwad, One more victory.

But don't let anyone else know.
No screenshots.
It's too easy to produce that as evidence.
It must be happening by phone or at a gathering.
Perhaps something public, where your attendance is disguised as an honor, a peek through the curtain into Real Life interaction. A party, a lunch, a wedding.
Snap, got your face.

It leads me to surmise why they do this.

Real Life must suck for them.

Oh, it must really suck.
If all they have is shitting on everyone, back home they must be shat upon.
No jobs or the jobs are shit. Work keeps people busy. A shitty job, shitty boss, or shitty coworkers can make your entire day SUCK. No work isn't fun. Applying for work, dealing with rejection, interviews, rejection, possibly for ANOTHER shitty job.. you get it.
No friends or their friends are shit. No friends, no outlet. No one to share interests (except ONLINE VIGILANTES, they ALWAYS LOVE your shit) and interact with. A friend could have stolen from them, possibly worse, like infidelity. Though, you know that shit takes two to tango. So there is just shit all over that.
No family or their family is shit. It could be they have no one left. Car accident, disowned, or disease. Cancer is all too real, isn't it? It takes those we cherish and cripples them, wastes them to nothing, and then takes them. We get them over here in The Shadowlands. And they are just as USELESS. Family doesn't mean appreciation, though, so maybe Mommy and Daddy don't approve. Of anything. It can happen. They don't add up and the Parental Units let them know. Blood can be just as thick as shit and they could be swimming in it.

Then again, my only other theory is they are just ASSHOLES.

This, I can believe.

We're not here to make friends. In fact, 'Villains' make more enemies than constructs to serve them. Just their presence can incite Joe Schmoe to take up the cape.

I have made friends. I have made enemies.

For the most, I make frienemies (these are 'friends' on Facebook. there aren't REAL friends on Facebook, but the label sticks and some can get lost in it. "But I thought we were FRIENDS?!?), devious device Zuckie. Devious.

My friends, however, ARE my friends.
You can always tell who a friend is.

When you are down, they are there to pick you up.

When you are in danger of harm, they are there to attempt reason.

When your back is against the wall, they sneak up to get a +4 and kill that bastard before he knocks your hit points to 0.

They know I am their friend because I would do the same.

And more.

Not because they have or would, because I would.

Friends are my allies. And my allies are STRONG.

And many.

And widespread.

Some of my friends are (dare I say it?) Henchmen. Folks who would rather stay away from the colossal BULLPILE that is this community I've found myself a part of. Some who I consider my friends, are 'heroes'. Some are 'Villains'. Some have nothing to do with this junk, but hear about it anyways.

My organization and my associates are aligned with them.

Their cause is our cause.

Their success is ours.

They are our pride.

They are our joy.

There is so little joy in death, droog.

So little.

-aw

p.s. Push.

Humility

I had to consult with Carl on this one.
He's always had such great insight, very knowledgeable that one.

He continues to learn in The Shadowlands, well, the Carl Sagan that you remember.

There are plenty more, mind you, in the great cosmopoly that is, and among the endless realities of The Multiverse.


Humility. Carl Sagan suggests you get some.

-aw

Building Robits

Just a little torture to get you in the mood.

There are times when a ghost can't get filthy enough and we all know the internets are a great place to get downright dirty.
After several bouts of DEEP dredging, I have finally found something of worth. I've been at this for far too long, trying to find my way around, how to operate, how to maneuver.

I've been a gentleman for far too long.

It's time to let the cat out of the bag.

This ghost is going INTO the machine.

I've set my sights on something drastic, something some would call EVIL BEYOND MEASURE, but I would just like to call it Phase 3.

-aw

p.s. Consider Order 66 as a warm-up.

Easter Eggs Abound

You know what I despise?
Aside from that.
We all know that I don't like humans.

No, do you know what I despise?
What really gets my goat?

Charlatans.

Yep, charlatans.

Oblivion take you, Danno!

Now, I wanted to share some serious advances in Villainy, not this pathetic META-BULLSHIT you've been spewing.
Oh, creation is great. Whee!
But it's still bullshit.
No real content of your own, just more of someone else's.

What's the matter hot-dog?
Not feeling the META-MAGIC?

So, in typical hypocritical fashion, here's a discovery you may not have seen:

The Carpetbagger.
http://www.thecarpetbagger.org/p/folk-heroes-and-villians.html
Some great field work about obscure relics and folk lore in North America.
And Villainy.
REAL VILLAINY.

ACTUAL BONA FIDE LOW DOWN FUCK YOU FOR TRYING TO MAKE ME BE SOMETHING OTHER THAN I AM AND SHOVE IT DEEP IF YOU THINK YOU'LL CHANGE ME VILLAINY!

Enjoy.

-aw

p.s. iseeyou

Vapors

I just can't.
I. Just. Can.

Hello,

If you've been reading this blog for any length, you will know that there is no certain point or flow to things. I come and go as I please, I terrorize and entertain (Terrortain™ has been tossed around, Enterrorize™ as well), create and destroy as is my wont.

You know (or don't) the drill.

Now comes the time for something different (or the same). The only constant in reality is change. Static, the frozen immovable ignorance, belies entropy. And we all know that's what I'm about.
Entropy.

Oblivion.

Destruction.

It's natural! Don't get all up-in-arms (or lack of them if the United States government is to be believed) and pout, without entropy we'd be buried in mire. Destruction makes way for creation and creation makes way for destruction.

Inevitability.

I should be combing through the thousands of files right now, following up on leads, and uncovering those juicy delicious morsels that come from your addresses. I still have The List, rube.
I pried it from that fat bastard's cold dead hand.
I left Heroes & Villains in my wake.
I created them.
I destroyed them.
I created them.
I destroyed them.

It matters little if you do not understand (or have ever) my missive.
The end result is glorious.

GLORY!
Someone give me an 'amen'.
Oh, right.
No one left.

I've been alone before. I stared longingly at the Abyss, caring not what looked upon me, abashed, yet still I stood. I was brought low, many times over (a curse of the Multiverse™) and in that dread, in that isolation, in that choking, HARROWING... I was forged anew.

A Thousand Folds, A Million Fires, and through the nexus, I emerge.
Again.
Anew.
Unchanged.
Unlike anything I was before.

Plotting, as always, to take over this sad little rock, you may continue, unabated.
It will be for naught.
I seek not it's domination, nor it's rule.
I seek not slaves or minions.
I seek only it's rebirth.
It's renewal.

It will soon die, though it's suffering great and long.
Then we can commence with what comes naturally next:

RESURRECTION.

Having a wonderful time on the brink of sanity,
-aw





p.s. You are close to me now, dear and purchased with no malice. You are of my kin, if not of my blood.
When the need for allegiance arises, when the daunting task of facing Oblivion is met, you have only to call.

p.p.s. I'm already there.

Portents

Well this is a sad sordid state of affairs.

You didn't heed my warnings, droogs.
Now, you suffer for your mistakes.

Oh, here it comes.
"What warnings, Agent Wraith? What warnings? You just blather on about all sorts of nonsensical bologna!"

Put down that sammich, fatty, and pay attention.
To something other than your colon health, for once, eh?



Incessant escalation.

Have you not seen the activity?

Have you blindfolded yourself? You kinky little fucker.


How many states need to burn? How many fires have to consume your landscape?
How many deep snows must bury you?
How many floods, storms, atrocities must you face before you realize what's up?

There is no future for this world save one:

OBLIVION.

You silly, silly, humans.
It's not courage.  It's not bravery.
It's ignorance.

And don't give me that 'site your source' bullshit either. It's everywhere.
Earthquakes, eruptions, wanton destruction.


-_-

Okay, look. I can understand the 'head-in-the-sand' routine. I really can.
Why face what's coming? Really? When you can stuff your head up your ass or in the television or internet or synth (can't say much about that right now. continuum and jazz). You have reality shows (yeah, reality) and bills and tropes and charity and lasers and memes and everything else to lose yourself in that you don't need to pay attention to anything for any length of time.
I get it.
Escape from reality.

Though, it's not much of an escape.
It's compromise.
Asteroid? Nope. Cover your eyes, dummy.
I can't see it, it can't see me.

Pics or it didn't happen.


What's been happening in the last few years?
Escalation.
Humans are exceedingly stupid and commit further atrocious acts on a daily basis.
You don't hear much about it?
There's a reason for that.
Bombings? Boston?
It's a daily (sometimes hourly) happening in some regions.
You think it's going to taper off?
HA!
Hold fast to that hope.
It's all you will have to keep you warm when the watch-fires burn out.

It's what I've been saying from day one.
Humans are the problem.

If they can't get with the program, they will (and must) be deleted from it.


























THAT
is all.


agentwraith


p.s.
Now, I've got some things to sort out.
Keep your well-wishes and evil-seeing-you-backs.
We're not on those terms.
Never were.

Get your act straight or have it straightened for you.

Nostalgia

Do you remember what it was like to read?

Do you?

I've heard it come up, now and then, about certain apes not particularly enjoying reading. Well, that's just a kick in the teeth, isn't it? You know, the ironic part is that I 'heard' this over on the FacebÜks. You know, a place where 99.9% of anything that goes on over there is.. written.
Mmm, typed.

You get where I'm going?

No, you probably don't.

You saw the link (granted you aren't ear-deep in your colon) and didn't bother. Read? Read?!? Pfft, I'd rather put my penis in a garbage disposal! <---This is conjecture. I don't have a penis.
Try to keep up.

Hey look, I can't help that this comes across chaotic.  Perhaps if you spent less time making sandwiches and giving away blankets and more time educating yourself on the temporal displacement of spacial anomalies in polydimensional -- lost you?
sigh

Since we are not going to be communicating.. much of ANYTHING.. this will be my final attempt to dissuade you in your chosen course of action.
It may very well be you are heading to a fateful encounter.

If you persist..

it may very well

end up
fatal.

Santa and Me

I've done it!
I'VE DONE IT!
The Multiverse™ will soon fall to OBLIVION!

I've been working diligently all year, striving to complete this one.. thing.

A few years ago, I discovered a brilliant young scientist who was working with paradimensional resonance or some junk and took him under my wing (ie. held him at gunpoint and forced him to do my bidding; kill your family and friends leverage crap, you know the take). I funded his wild experiments and he made sure I was always with coffee.

He would explain quantum theory (or try to) and I would not sleep through his presentations ever! I payed 110% attention to every word, every detail.
As The Multiverse™ expanded, he expounded.

Just last year, several of the lowest levels of Los Sauces were flooded and we lost progress on several key elements. It was a setback, but only a minor one. We also lost a few investors that put us in the red.
That was a bigger setback.
Dr. Tarantula, greasy maniac that he is, offered to 'loan' us some cash to help get us back on our feet.  He subsequently pulled the rug out from under us and we went spilling out of Los Sauces.
To be refused entry by chickens (of all creatures) was insulting.

It was Henchmen that we turned to, Dear Reader. Henchmen.
Vile beings, though loyal, who were willing to do what it takes to get the job done.
They caught me, my guard down, and pulled me from the edge of OBLIVION's caress.

Through the last year, with strides, I returned. Operation: Kill Kringle 2011 was not a complete bust, for I took from the Fat Man his coveted list.*  With all the names.
All the names and all the addresses.

And all your desires.

And what do i want all this for?

Ü

to burn it all down, of course

Oblivion, Dear Reader, is my only course.
The Multiverse™ has it all. Everything. Every possibility.
The only action that would make any sense, that would have meaning, is oblivion.

Oh poo, I guess you caught me monologueing. Sigh, I guess you're going to try to stop me now.
Aw, shucks, I would have gotten away with it if it weren't for you rotten kids.
Oh wait.
I'm not giving you my plan.
I don't make plans.

I also wouldn't tell you any of what I am up to if you had any chance of stopping me.  Operation Kill Kringle 2012 is already over. The Fat Man is already dead.
His sack was removed (long ago, according to his Missus), reindeer captured (barbequed, tasty!), elves slaughtered, and technology reverse engineered by capable robot hands. Better luck next ti ha ha haha. There won't be a next year, kiddies!  Nets.
Santa's reindeer are a different breed, Magnus. They could chew through irradiated cables, mutated. Not keen on the netting. Or the barbeque.

Don't give me that look.
The Multiverse™ gents. And ladies.
And whatevers.
ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE.
Look into the face of Oblivion.
Gaze into nothing.

My marvelous weapon, Dear Reader, is yet to be revealed.
It took several raids, some in the dead of night when secrecy can be maintained the easiest. We tramped into others' territory and pilfered what secrets we could.  I did a few drops in Lake Town, had a chilling brunch in Colorado Springs, and got crates full of loot out of New Jersey.
Oh sure, some of it smells.

A combination of alcohol, crow, and actors.

I spent some time up in Seattle, though brief, and came out the other end a more vicious, more determined ghost.  I got down to Portland, up to Yellowknife, across to Kingston, and missed the flight to Essex.
We had more planned, but we don't make plans, so Beijing is right out.

Thanks for all the plans, scientist-types.  Your work is harmless apart, together all is made dangerous.
The culmination is a weapon of awesome power.

Well, weapon is in the eye of, well, the hand of the be-- well, holder.
It's not a weapon, in the right hands.
Fortunately (unfortunately) it's in the wrong hands.
A self righteous prick who's ready to do what it takes to get the job done.
That's right.
A Henchman.
The lowest sub-category of human.
And moreso unhuman, because of the whole.. dead thing.

I choose to behave this way. Whether Henchman, Minion, or Villain.
I am, what I am.
I have served none save myself, even when purposefully serving others.
That just makes me EVIL.
That's a label I can.. live... with.

Here in the NECROVERSE, where all things go when they die, we have learned immense patience.
You will come to us, eventually.
You all will.
It all comes out in the wash, eh?
For all your fury, you remain as you are:

nothing

welcomehomeapocalypse
welcomehome





-AW


*You would think after all these years and the boon technology would be to such a job, why doesn't he just get a GPS? I've spotted a few satellites in my day, one of em had to be from the North Pole.

Adventures in Facebook

Every once in a while you come across a gem.

From saving little babies on the street to handing out sandwiches, these heroes don't know when to quit!
Blankets in winter. HAH.
We died of frostbite and we hated it.

Swords, crossbows, arrows, slings, thongs, and miscreant jabber pixies.

Literacy. What is words?

There appears a town by a lake, in it a bank to trade these gems!

I see a lot of posturing, going back and forth, snap jaw mcgraw and quick to wit snip snap zibbety bop.
And no action.

It's time we took some action.
Really, action is taking up our time.
Soon.

Candy canes! ALL OVER FACEBOOK!
GAH!
I am not amused!
Oh sure, not in YOUR facebÜk.

The Multiverse™
"Making any action meaningless."

Barely any frienemies left. The ones that survived the intial wave of cuts (heroes of ill repute were allowed to stay, of course) I barely pay attention to. I simply can't.
I haven't had time for my blog. s. blogs. Multiblogs.
I don't pow wow with the ancestors nearly enough.
I haven't trained Franklin in the technically intricate arts of boomerang. It's my week to teach the henchmen some form of entertainment.*

Keeping one's eye on FacebÜk 24/7 is a task not easily done. Not a single Henchman enjoys it.
Sifting through the chests of screen cap gold. Ooh, SCREEN CAPS!
Ü

I won't forget you, you squishable scamp. Your bronze plated glory will forever shine. Through snow and mild hyperventilation you pave a path through heroes like the majestic orangutan.
Got yer waders on, hoss?

Tis the season Gentlemen (Ladies, or whatever you refer to yourself as gender not specific or otherwise; you could be made of felt or a pickle or a hat, I DON'T KNOW!) and we owe it to ourselves to let Übermas RING!

Resound! Rejoice! Revel! Be Wicked In Your Evil!
WE ARE VILLAINS!
If you're not celebrating Übermas, you are not EVIL. Or you are in a universe where Übermas does not exist (Krelm banish the thought!) or you are not aware of such things (which you must pull yourself from under that rock and welcome yourself to your worst nightmare: 2012).
Delight in your choice to throw off shackles, indignity, pressure, ridicule, judgement, and RULES.

You make your own rules.

So don't celebrate Übermas (whut), remain on the 'Nice' side of the list.
I almost typed the P word there. Heh. Gotta watch that. I only have the one eye to see out of.
Santa is gonna get his.
He's been, heh, tracking me through FacebÜk.
Apparently it's not that difficult. So watch yourselves.

I hate admitting this, but, confession: I'm going to need help again this year.
It's a sign of weakness, I know, but, forget all that bullshit and look at what that Fat Bastard has accomplished. What toys he has, what technology. The magic.
The workforce.
Whatever floats your boat.
Let's just do this.

The Flying Dutchman is in dry dock (okay, that was bad) and we've been ready since last Übernas, Some of us are still fighting up there. Day after day.
Night after oh so holy night.

All you have to do is have read through this blather up to this point, proving you are either smart, gullible, or dumb enough to have read this far, not have been offended at just calling you smart, gullible, or dumb just now, and understand the jibber-jabber that's coming out of my fingertips and into your looky eye thingies.
Contracts?
We don't need no stinking contracts.
We're not actors.

There is the loot. Santa has plenty of toys. Candy cane themed, mostly. Gingerbread tech was a breakthrough, and the Bag of Heart's Desire or Ever Holding, whichever you prefer (his magic is powerful, goddamn christmas magic), is a miracle of science and magic.
Money, power..

No sex, plenty of greed.

Operation: Kill Kringle 2012

Trending trends trend trendily.
Metrics.
1k downloads. Biscuits.

Febuloids, Speculoids, Febuspeculoids, Specufebuloids, Lloyds.

This Multiverse™ is getting on my nerve.

--RIP Obsidian Labs.

*What? Boomeranging is VERY entertaining.

tagsareeverything

Let The Transmissions Begin

Hello again, Blogger.
Do you welcome me into the shadows once more?
Back with all the other savages (NERDS)..
Reading. Who has time for that?

I have to keep this short, for now, but very soon:

I-Who-Shall-Not-Care?

Oh that's rich.
Full of preservatives as well.


facebook

Gah! Do I hate it so!
Tricked me into reactivating my account.
Real sneaky.

It's a good thing Facebook let's you choose the folks you associate with..
oh wait
crap

Things have been quiet around here (FOR ONCE) and I can't say I don't like it.
The stress level is LOW. The 'heroes' I found are an interesting plaything. They have no idea I'm on to them. It's going to be INSANE.

That's for another time though.



I don't know how long I'll be sticking with Facebook. I can't pretend to care about every status, so I won't. It's nothing personal. Really.
I just don't care.

Been covering some ground in the laboratories, though. Upgrading the arsenal, adding to it, preparing my forces. There IS a war coming.
It will be the LAST.



On a serious note, I accept it.
There's not much time left to do what i want and when it's up, you get what's left.
I won't have to wait until Übermas, neither will you.
I'm not given the courtesy the WORST is afforded and I'm supposed to flip out? apologize?
This is my only response.

I don't compromise.
I am what I am.
It is what it is.

I have a solution... one you will just DIE for.

I have talked about this 'list'.. You know, the one I swiped from Kringle.
It's got everything on it.
Naughty, Nice, it's all there.
The fat-man had tabs on everyone.
That whole 'sees-you-when-you're-sleeping' creep!
Social Security numbers, addresses... It's all there*.

He was a sick fuck.

His loss is your loss.
Really.

Friday!!!
I almost forgot about Friday!!
Mind Games has still been broadcasting, we've just been covert.
Honing the shitty thing to a steaming pile of entertainment.
Mostly for the mind-numbed drug addled retards who frequent the neighborhood.
We kill more audience members than Smallpox.. and that's just who LISTENS!

This week's topic, should you deign to care, is about FICTION.
And not just any fiction: META FICTION.
That's right.

Meta-fiction v.s. Reality
Multiple universes v.s. this one.

I know, I know.
It's a narrow minded approach to an even narrower concept.
but, that's why I do these things.
Maybe someone will take pity on this ghost and explain it in simple terms even I can understand.

11pm EST, as predictable.
And this one will be available for public consumption.
Come get you some.

And to that VERY special someONE:

You're on the list... and so many want to KNOW.




Nuclear wishes and Apocalyptic dreams,
Agent Wraith



*I want to thank Special Agent F. Gonzalez and his partner for their 'fair' treatment. After hours of sifting and perusing of my data they have come to the consensus that I am no 'real' threat and being labeled a terrorist is simply a byproduct of my rantings. I'm OFF THE LIST**!

**Not Santa's list, no. The NO FLY! HERE I COME EARTH! First stop?
CHICAGO!