8

Things I find on the internet scare me.

Good to see White Skull still working.
lol

Countdown? What countdown? Oh yeah. 9.

Okay, so like anyone cares what I've been up to lately.. I'm going to tell you anyways.

So, at first, this 'land-war' with the US Border Patrol was really grating on my nerves.  I gave the orders to seal up the compound and had to turn away several attempts by loyal henchmen to regain access.
They will be missed.
You would think that being, ya know, incorporeal, would have it's advantages.  But, I guess the one disadvantage is that you can't be properly searched in any capacity.
It also helps to have Diplomatic Immunity.
As a representative of a SOVEREIGN nation there is little to be done against it.

Except repel my minions at the border.

Did I just reveal too much information?
Nah.
No one is listening anyways.

So, yeah, I'm having trouble getting this 'World Tour' up and running.  There is a question of whether 2011's budget is going to bottom out or not.  There's this overhead cost of 32k I can't seem to shake.  A large bus, fuel, a driver (actually 4 drivers to push through the nights), food, and several cases of NATO rounds to start.. The fortunate (unfortunate) among you may have to wait until 2012.
Hmm.  Rather ominous now that I think about it.

I can't wait really.  I know I haven't said much to the internetweblogerverse(?), but it's true.  I'm seriously excited.  It's been a decade since my last 'road trip' and I'm due for another.  I didn't want to reveal too much about it, but, since we have some time, I guess I can let one cat out of the bag.
I do want to visit San Diego, CA.  And Denver, CO.  And Seattle, WA.. just to name a few.  I name these cities (believe me, there are more), because of the folks who reside there.
Yes, this means you.
And yes, this also means the rest of you.
There is nothing wrong with me.  I'm not a stalker.  I mean, I can be, if need be.  Or want dictates.. or necessity (wait, said that).  I wanted to reach out to my fellows.. and others.. to make an impact.
And impact.
I digress.
You see.. actually, you don't see.  There is so much that goes on that you don't know about.
Phone conversations, web chats, meetings, delegations.. blah, blah, blah.  I'm sure you all have your hands (or plungers) full everyday.  Busy.
But there is no reason I should feel so lonely.  22 challenges me everyday to some strange new Aztec or Babylonian wrestling match.. But, aside from my own organization, I seek the company of.. you guessed it:
Like Minded Individuals.

So, yeah, I yearn for community.  Do I have to squeeze my way into blogsquawk radio and do a show??
Is that why you called me 'tiny', you eyelid-lacking bastard?  It's because no one cares, isn't it?  They just don't care!  They are wrapped up in their own lives and couldn't give two shits about me or anything! AAHH! I just want to crawl under a rock and die!
lol

Note: I hope any who read this can see what I have been trying to accomplish.  I want to reach out to you like someone I know.  I want to speak comfortably with you, no matter how harsh my words may be in your ears and mind.  This is who I am.  You will either respect me for it..
Or not.
But, I'm 'talking' to you like I would anyone else.  Actually, I'm talking to you like I would my friends.  If I really didn't like you (are you HUMAN? because I hate humans), I would coat on the sugar.
'Oh yes'm, I most certainly would like to take your order.'
'Thank you so much for shopping with us today, please come again!'
'May I see your license and registration.. please?'

Oh, and habitual mockery is an indicator of possible depression.
Go figure.

Changing subjects for a moment..to end this bugger.

WHAT THE F--??!?

I disconnect the hard lines for all of a few days and when I return, there are 'villains' dipping out left and right? Seriously?!? WTF? Okay, I know we have busy, busy lives.  But, I see a post that says 'Greatest Thing I Have Ever Been Involved With' then 'POOF!'
I'm confused.
Let me just nip this.  I find it odd that some among us have been thinking these things.
Why?  Because I found myself contemplating something similar.
Now, I was just proposing a trip to the future.. which could be perceived as 'below radar' or even 'quitting', but hey, we all play that game with.. well, alot of things.  You don't like a game, don't bother smashing your Sega Genesis to pieces, just stop playing.
Even if Goro keeps cheating.

10

First stop on the World Tour?
California.

Try and stop me.

Us.

Countdown begins.

The beginning is the end is the beginning.
To look upon it's face was madness.
--

As the day draws to a close, I find myself watching the sunset, basking in its brilliance.  It is a wondrous thing; millions have tried to capture it's essence in prose and metaphor and I sit before it.  Such a grandiose gesture, such a cosmic nod; the galaxy is watching.

But it makes one feel insignificant.  Something so big, casting it's eyes upon me.  I find myself going to dark places suddenly, shuffling important incriminating papers and files to the incinerator in my brain.  It makes me relive some long forgotten shame.

So I curse it.  Futile and unfulfilled, I shake my gloved fist at it.

The days and nights merge, today is tomorrow's yesterday, it all blends.  I'm struggling to get things done, my mind is a mess.  What did I do wrong?  Did I go too far ahead?  What is happening to me?

--

Do you know how to build a Flux-Capacitor? 1,111 Easy Steps on Engineering Chronospacial Anomalies.

--

Ever have one of those Snoop-on-something days?  When you can't just -not- look into someone's journal left wide open on the cafeteria table.  That he's sitting in front of.
Because you possessed him?

I found myself disoriented last week, stumbling around the galley, tray of food in hands.  My pineapple chunks were in my mash potatoes and as I sat I wondered if that was where I went wrong.  Letting them mix.  I was angry, frustrated, so I broke apart my salisbury steaks with the fork and stirred the whole thing up!
The resultant glop was actually tasty.

--

I found a parchment pinned to the door on level 7.  It sounds like a tough stew.

1-11-11
6 pm Dinner
One can of Lima Beans, Green Beans, Black Eye Peas, Cream of Mushroom Soup.

Times, they are a tough.
Henchmen can't get a decent meal, let alone every day!
(Salisbury steak?  Lima Beans?)
Now if only I knew where to get some sandwiches.  And they have to be free sandwiches too.. yeah..
Divert all meal funding to.. uh.. my pocket!
Ha ha ha.

--

And then, the night surrounded me.
All at once.
I was in the dark.

A few young men were going to set the watch fire, there are things to do.
So much to do.

I think I will head inside for a bit.
The temperature drops so fast.

It's killing my battery.
Stupid electronics.

Progress

When first faced with the task of setting plans in motion, one should always take caution to time it well.

Greetings, folks.
It's time for a little change-up and BY THE GODS it's happening right now.
The end draws nigh.

Things around the WORLD are beginning to change.  Those too ignorant or blind to see it will be swept up in the madness.

I'm going to skip all this, however, and step around it.
Yep, I'm going to travel time.  Specifically, I'm going into the future.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.  I'm going headfirst into the Lion's Den.
It's going to be utter chaos.
I'll be able to slip back to obscurity...

Oh, what's that?
Why would I do that?

Well, that reminds me of a joke.
Stop me, if you heard this one.

A woman is boarding a Trans-Atlantic flight, carrying a covered bird cage and a heavy suitcase.  She manages to push and bump her way down the aisle, tries to put her suitcase into her seat, and fails miserably.

A man behind her offers some help.

"Here, let me help."

He takes over, picking the suitcase up and wedging it in the overhead compartment.
She smiles warmly, plops down, and adjusts the cover on the birdcage that occupies its own seat.

The man sits down opposite her, catching the attendant walking down the aisle.

"Can I get a drink?"

The flight is underway after that, they take off and get comfortable.

The captain gives a pre-flight performance schtick, directing attendants to do their part of the show, allowing them to conduct a passenger volunteer inflate a seat/flotation device, then giving the much appreciated 'Seat-belts Off, Get Your Smoke On' alerts.

The little light above each seat turned on, followed by a harmonic chime and collective sigh.

The man reaches into his pocket and removes a case.  He takes out a cigar and presses a button in the seat's arm.  The woman removes the cover on her birdcage to reveal a beautiful bird.
Of no particular species anyone can discern.

At first, when the man exhales his delicious carcinogens, there is only his sigh of content.

Then, the bird starts to have a fit.  It flaps its wings, slamming itself against the cage.  Clearly, the woman is upset.

"Sir!  Sir! Please!  Put that thing out!  You are killing my bird!"

The man exhales, little smoky circle beats against the seat in front of him.

"Naw, ma'am.  I ain't giving up my smoke.  That little light came on.  I'm entitled to my cigar."

The woman becomes irate.  She pulls on the attendant's arm, begging her to stop the smoking man.

"He's killing my bird!!"

Finally, something is done.

"Sir, can we compromise?  The woman is upset, the captain is getting worried."

The man takes a long look at his cigar, then at the woman.  He grins.

"I tell you what.  I'll throw my cigar out if you throw that damn bird out."

Suspend your disbelief, folks, because that's just what they did.  Out went the bird.  Out went the cigar.

Upon arrival to the airport, the plane taxis, letting it's passengers spill out to their daily lives.  They file off, rushing for their baggage.

The man walks up to the turnstile and waits.  He sees the woman pulling her suitcase and dragging the empty bird cage.

As his suitcase comes around, he notices something sitting on it.
The bird.

And do you know what was in it's beak?

A blue rock.

What does the FUTURE hold? -Commentary

STOP SCROLLING DAMNIT!  I like how it starts out with each entry getting like a sentence or three, then it turns into a symposium.. each entry it's own little rant.  Mini-rants.
Heh.
And sometimes the letters get all jibberjabber, like words allsmashedtogether and making the flow all chaotic.  You just can't get on with it.
This is important business!  Semantic threats aside (Schadenfreudapaloozactoberfestivation!  -A popular Übermas expression), I can attend more pressing matters.  One of utter importance.

Time Travel.

I came to this understanding today in sort of a profound revelation kind of way.  Like pickles.  The only thing you can really do with a cucumber.

It was after discovering an argument.  If you can really call it that.  It was actually a tad trite.  Back and forth, until it was clear to be a Battle of Wits.  Also, it was conluded that one of the participants was strikingly unarmed.  Maybe a little of both.  Or maybe tact.  It was obviously not the first or last time something similar happened.

Then, it hit me.
"Knowing is half the battle."
I downed two gallons of bleach to get rid of the most awesome-est song in the whole world, which was blasting through my noggin, which just happens to be the opening theme to GI Joe the Movie.. which just happens to be my favotire movie.  In the hole world.  In the history of forever.  And ever.

I came into the game late.

But I have fixed that.

The boys concocted something back in the 40s I've been dying (dead?) to get my hands on.  With decades to perform a myriad of batteries of tests, we have finally come to a breakthrough.  It's possible.

I discuss it in length in my new book, How Do You Feel? It's part of The RLTT/GP (Real Life Time Traveler/Ghost Person) General Health Series, sponsored by SPECTRE.  Ooh, shouldn't have given that last one away.  Or the next.

Now, once I have the device/machine/talisman, should I so desire, I can step as far forward or backward as I like.  This also brings me to a realization.
This is not my first go-round.
I feel a déjà vu through my waking hours.  It's not odd, but I have been here before.  Done this, before.
I'm constantly trying to wrap my mind around it, but it borders on quantum theories and pragmatic existentialism that would make even the staunchest Einsteinian blanch.  It's too late to turn back now, though.  So, press forward I will.

And press forward, I will.

My only reluctance (one I will reject, because I already know the outcome), is that I may go too far.  The future is always changing (a little green guy told me once) and you never know what you're going to face upon stepping from the machine.  Sure, Beryllium may be from the future.. but does that future still exist?  What if we have changed it, simply by her being here now?  Hell, couldn't any who oppose her simply set in motion her premature demise?  Wait, strike that.  I don't want anyone getting any ideas.
What if I go so far, so far into the future, that the Earth simply isn't there anymore?  How hard would it be to get back from that?  Does it work in reverse?

No matter.  Round and round and round we go.

No one every accomplished anything by just sitting around, typing on a blog for most of the night, discarding it, retyping exactly what was written all over again, and then going to bed.  Nope.  Some of us throw caution to the wind, pull up our fettered trousers, and get on with it.

We need movers and shakers.

So be moved.

Be shaken.

What does the FUTURE hold?

Here's a good one for ya. Try to stop me if you heard this one.
---
A man walks into a bar late at night, down on his luck from having just lost his job and sits at the counter with a long face.
The bartender puts away his glass (dutifully polished) and saunters up to the newcomer.

"What'll ya have, partner?"

The man looks at the bartender and lowers his eyes.

"I don't have any money."

The bartender looks puzzled.

"If you don't have any money, I can't serve you.  Beer isn't free, you know?"

The man, looking more dejected (if that's possible), holds out his hand.

"All I have is this magic rock.  Will you take that?"

In his hand is a small (about the size of an egg), blue (almost the same color as the sky on a clear day) rock.  The bartender laughs hard at this and doubles over.  When his fit expires, he wipes his cheeks of tears and clears his throat.

"No.  No, sir.  That won't do.  You either cough up some dough or I have to put you out."

The man turns on his stool, about to leave, when he turns back and puts the rock down on the counter.

"How about this?  A bet."

The bartender grins.

"What kind of bet?"

The man, knowing he's got a bite, continues.

"An easy one.  I bet.. I bet that I can throw this rock into the air.. and it won't come back."

There is another fit of laughter; twice as long as the last one.

"Mister, you have got a few screws loose, don't you?  Why on Earth would I take that bet?  I can't really believe I'm actually humoring you, but do you have anything to put up?  I mean, what do I get if I win?"

The man shrugs.

"Well, what do you want if you win?"

The man looks around.

"Okay.  If you win, which you won't, I will come to work for you.. for free.. I can make mean cocktails, scrub toilets, swab puke piles--":

"I'm not going to question your work history or anything, right? How do I know if you're reliable?  What is too much? Can I tell you to scrub the blood up from the mandatory one murder a year?"

"Now, now. If you dispel it too much, it won't be a joke."

"You're right, continue."

"Okay, so if I win, I get this bar.  You can still work here, but it will be for me."

The bartender shrugs.

"I don't know man, that sounds like a lame bet."

"Okay, okay.  I'll give you the deed to my house and property, the keys to my car, and give you the number to the only blind hooker in town."

"Deal."

They both head out the back into the alley. The man rubs the rock between his hands, warming it up.

"Come on. Throw it already."

The man looks back at the bartender, grins, then throws the rock with all the strength he has straight up.
For a moment, the rock stays in view in the dark sky.  A lit contrast to the blackness.

Then it's gone.

A minute passes and the bartender can't believe it.

"Wow. I guess you won."

---
I never can remember the punchline.
Well, folks, it's only Day 4 of 2011 and already I'm feeling the wanderlust of a new era creeping up behind me like ATF.  So soothing to hear throats sing.

If I offend, I do not apologize.  Since my transformation, I have a morbid gaiety that others find simply exhausting and repulsive.

I want to touch on a few things, so bear with me and my chaotic fingers.  It takes a lot of effort to push myself to do these things, so I hope you'll stick with me for a few.

Resolutions!
Much ado about nothing, really.  Such endeavors are saved for the primitive.  It's simply an affirmation of things I told myself all 2010.  Now summed up into a nifty little (ever growing) list.

1. Be more resolute.  That's a laugh.  I should be more concise and clear when issuing demands.  The CIA seem to have difficulties in deciphering my Riddler-esque clues.  And we're talking Batman: The Movie Riddler.  Such a string of thoughts that combine into a coherent direction.  So.. much..  reaching.  And the acting!  .... Superb! Anyways.
   
2. Be more active.  This I can't stress enough.  It seems everyone is on my case to be more participator than a spectator.  Level 7 keeps backing up, I can't seem to contain leaks on levels 43-61, and there is a disturbance on 19.. more on that later.
   
3. Brainwash.  That's right.  No beating around the bush with the minions, henchmen, plebes, and goons.  If they can't grasp the simple concept of Shoot, Shoot Some More, brainwash them until they get it right.
   
4. Finish What You Started.  There are so many projects going on right now.  Hardly any of them have the funding to finish the year, let alone completion.  Project Franklinstein was a.. questionable success.  So that's one down.  Project Pincer won't see any reliable results in the near future (the time table says at least 4 more years), Operation Parade is scheduled for November, The Zombie Apocalypse could happen any minute (if it hasn't been in full swing for years now), and I can't find my God Damned phone.  That leads me to my next resolution..
   
5. Get Organized.  Perhaps a PDA.  Then someone to help me program the damn thing.  Ooh, I've had my eye on one of those Ipad things.  Maybe one of those would keep my event scheduling from getting out of hand.  I held together a few meetings in the last month of 2010, but only tenaciously so.  I've got a few more in the coming week, I just hold to hope that it doesn't get out of control.  I was very close to losing a few henchmen to infighting.  That's what happens, I guess, when you mix alcohol and the power to conjure jets of fire from your fingertips.  You should see this new guy...
   
6. Introduce More Minions.  This public face (heh) has seen quite a spike in communique recently.  I've compiled the best Mexico and the World have to offer me and tied them together into some loose-knit organization without real direction.  Sure, I want to annihilate the human species, but I need humans to build the giant mechanoids who are going to do it.  It's a vicious cycle.  My henchmen need exposure, though; the better to terrify my enemies into submission before a single punch is thrown.  I'm telling you, this new guy makes me want to puke.  He's down on Level 7 almost as much as Henchman 22, first to volunteer for Fire Watch, and doesn't ask why.  His level of commitment perturbs me.  When I think about it, a disturbing train of questions begin.. Why is he doing this?  Is he trying to get promoted?  Is he trying to get close enough to strike me down?  Is he gathering information?  Is he a spy?  Things like that.  And he likes to burn things.  That's not all bad.  But, yeah, give the minions a few minutes, then put them back to work.  That Weather Machine is not going to build itself.  (Santa did not bring one for Christmas.. there was no Christmas.  Someone must have leaked to him that I don't celebrate it..)
   
7. Expand.  Reach out more.  Reveal more.  Like, my origin.  Let's take a quick moment to observe and discuss my moniker.
   Agent Wraith.
   Now, I, for one, did not simply reach into a bin labeled Super Villain Name/Gimmick and whatever I pulled out was saddled with.  No, it was chosen very carefully.
   I was once (and still am in a way) an Agent.  I'll keep the agency I worked for mum (clue: We helped stamp out the American Indian problem quite nicely).  That brings all the pomp-and-circumstance with it.  I can handle (well, maybe not handle) a few dozen firearms in my sleep, surgically precise with a blade, could start a butterfly collection with a roomful of loose specimens and a handful of pins, and could make a frigid Mother Superior reenact scenes from The Best of Jenna Jameson.  Well, the last one isn't really possible anymore.  Just an incorporeal being after all..  And Wraith.  I am in between worlds.  I am the next step in your evolution, ape. Not only can I go anywhere (walls, no matter how dense, do not impede me), but I can be anyone.  Just a suit for me.  I wear your skin and discard it just like changing clothes.  Those who have passed are subject to my changing whim.  It's not 100%, I've had my battles with more willful specters (like Kennedy), but always unscathed.  I've managed to channel a few to hilarious outcomes (that time I summoned Cass was a good one; she didn't get my Cartman impression though).  I'm still waiting for the Ghost of Nixon to rear his ugly head..
   ML, eat your heart out.
   I'd like to think of it like The Carrot.  You know, that thing you dangle in front of some dumb animal to keep it moving forward (which can actually be attributed to this list).  I'll even let it be caught, maybe even a nibble, just to yank it back and have them press on.  I have to push forward, regardless of anyone else doing the work.  For my own sanity, I have to.  If none of you hold your weight against the coming horde, I will die knowing I did my best.  I also die knowing you bastards sent me to my final rest without putting up much effort, assholes.  Point!  There are so many cookie jars to put my ghostly hands into.  Just don't get too greedy.  You stretch yourself over too many things and you end up not giving enough attention to them all.  That's politics.
   
8. NO MORE POLITICS.  This isn't the United Nations.  This isn't your United States of Whateva.  This is MY planet, you disgusting meat sacks.  This isn't Democracy.  This is totalitarianism.  And I alone am the totalitarian.  You think you have what it takes to give me a run for my money?  I have the most powerful weapon in my arsenal and I'm not talking about my Death Ray.  I'm talking about time.  I have all the time the world has left (and maybe a bit after it's busted to bits by Apophis).  Time travelling is covered later, that's not what I'm going on about.  No, no, no.  I'll outlive you all.  You think I'm posturing?  That's okay.  It's expected.  I will (plain and simply) outlast you all.  When you are old, griping about the applesauce in some Assisted Living space somewhere, fighting over the SpectroVision™, I'll be young and spry.  No, I'm not immortal.  It will end sometime.  But, I can guarantee that when this generation (hell, even the next) is old (some of you already are. ML is what 30? 35? Shit, 40?), I'll be able to run-cough-float circles around you.  If you have all your mental faculties by then.  If your cholesterol doesn't.. meh. And yes, this is called forewarning.  I'm going to pound you to paste when you're old.  When you're frail.  When the terror will be at its peak.  Oh, someone help me!  There's a ghost from my past come to beat me up! I'm too old and weak to fight back!  Good luck convincing the orderly stealing your meds that something is actually wrong.  With luck, they'll get to you long before I do.  Saves me time.  If they rattle your brittle bones and break your trachea, I have one less name to mark off my list.  I've been cordial in the face of your stupid rants, your posturing, and your sad pathetic attempt to evoke some reaction out of me.  I've taken the brunt of your needless assaults and still stood strong and determined not to change my demeanor.  My conclusion?  You no longer matter.
   
   Note: Henchman 22 pointed out that I should refrain from delivering such a threat.  That, by issuing such a statement could be construed as menacing, terrorism, or worse, egotism.  I'm not going to retract my statement, nor will I condone such labels to it.  It is a fact.  A bold, true fact.  You will get old.  I will not.  I will track you down and make you poop yourself.
   
   
9. Eliminate All Enemies.  Another straight forward resolution.  From the big ones, right down to the little ones.  That RLSH/Vigilante/weirdo who's running around nearby (probably listening in on my late night conversations)?  That compulsion to possess a smoker just to feel the slight twinge of nicotine satisfaction?  Okay, maybe I'll just keep that one.  But everything else?  Eliminate it.  Distractions?  Gone.  Dead-weight?  Gone.  Priorities? Wait. What?  Yeah, get rid of everything that could be a potential threat to my inevitable rise...
   And if you think I'm talking about you, you're giving yourself too much credit.  There is actually a very short list and your name is most likely not on it.  You simply do not warrant the time for consideration.  And, just to be prudent, there's not a single RLSH/SV on it.  If you choose to bring yourself to my circle.. sit your ass down in it.. get comfortable.. then complain when you don't get called on.. fuck off.  I would expect the same treatment.  I'm sitting in your circle.  I'm not complaining either.  I like to read, solve puzzles, and enjoy long floats on the beach.
   
   I'm not doing this for you.
   I chose to be this way for my own reasons.  None of them have to do with you.  The only thing that comes close to even relating to you would be the timing.  I have been watching for a while now.  Yeah, watching.  Not just reading the report on some independent newspaper or seeing a bleeding-heart piece (more like weirdo/oddball/cow-in-tree) on some costumed yahoo.  I've seen you.  Before things like Cons and Expos were part of something other than obscure/indie/subculture phenomenon.
   
   Who Watches The Watchmen?

I do.


p.s.
Muuwwaahhaahhaahaahahahahahaha.  Ha.