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 Your right to life has been revoked.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.