Posts Tagged ‘Beast of Cville’

On the Prowl Again.

Monday, March 16th, 2009

You didn’t forget about me?  Did you?  Sure you did.  You’re not the lawyer, congressman, banker type victim that has been turning up shredded and lifeless (just like when they were alive only shredded).  You think you’re safe from the beast.  The beast is some sort of Twilight Robin Hood feasting on the rich so the poor can live.

Not one cheerleader, model, executive assistant, mechanic, plumber, electrician, school teacher, or restaurant manager has been found in such a twisted finished form.  Neither have any software engineers, network or computer technicians.  But they will.  It is this fact you overlook at your peril.

You take comfort in the numbers of lawyers, legislators, and financial consultants.  But this isn’t Wall Street; this is Charlottesville.  There aren’t as many laywers, legislators, and bankers to feast on.  And if I devoured all of them, each and every last one of them, I would draw too much attention on myself and my prowl.  I have no desire to draw the blood of a police officer or National Guardsmen.

It will be those of you who don’t know who I am who will be my next victims.  Next time, the survivors of Cville won’t forget about me.

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The Prowl of the Beast

Monday, February 16th, 2009

You say you know how life is supposed to be.  The answers are as simple as fifty years of your perspective and genius that you are you figured it out at twenty.  You say if we were meant to fly we would have been born with wings but you seem offended by the different things my generation can do with the parts we do have from birth.  You say freedoms and then you get offended.  You say religion is not a battlefield and I shouldn’t bring a war there.  I say firing cannonballs in the direction of my liberties is no way to start a friendly conversation.

I say there is nothing that can be known so well.  I say what is known is known based on review and consensus.  I say all answers are at best work in progresses those work and progress so well previously unimaginable entertainment lays at the fingertips of most of us who possess even meager resources.  I say nothing is as important as we imagine it is.  There’s not much worth dying for except that which would lead you to a position where you aren’t really living.

You say the government is no better now than it was before November and I say you had eight years to mess the world up and you neither completely messed it up or put it back together again.  It’s as if our government were busy doing something else.  A government that does its job would be a miracle in and of itself and would probably produce much needed change.

Real change comes from the battleground.  You don’t win a war where the sequel takes you out.  That’s a loss that took some time to be realized.  We didn’t win World War I for example because we helped create the circumstances that allowed Hitler to succeed to powers unimaginable.  And we didn’t win World War II if that is what brought Joseph McCarthy his few retarded moments of power.

Real judgment can’t be made the morning after either.  Perhaps we didn’t need the American revolution, but we got it and now we have to honor it.  Perhaps we didn’t need the Civil War, but we learned we’ve got to live together at least in our fifty states.  I don’t even know if America is all that great if you average it out per person or per square mile or something.  But I don’t see any reason to throw the size advantage out the window, I think we should capture that benefit.

And when I curse your religion, and I do, especially when you aren’t around to be offended.  I’m not cursing you.  I’m cursing the troublesome effects by which you have all developed this mystical belief in something that is a little bit different to each one of you.  And yet, you refuse to admit you’re following your own version of the beliefs you’ve adopted clearly indicating in one fell swoop that the tradition upon which you rest your faith is irrelevant and your ability to appreciate my take on things has eroded to a ridiculously atrophed state.

I consume people like you and spit them out slightly chewed and entirely miserable.  You can’t win because you aren’t being true to yourself even if you are true to your habits.  Because what are the odds a self contradicting text got it right, zero.  And what are the odds that the one thing it got right was the existence of something extra material, zero.  So why be that person in that belief system that reinforces your faith by drawing you to spend every waking moment working toward their cause?  Don’t you know they are using your social impulses against you?  And don’t you know you will never win against the likes of me.

And even if you get away from me, or impossibly defeat me.  There are more.  You can’t win because I am impatient, and hungry.  So run.

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Enter The Beast of Cville

Monday, January 19th, 2009

Full of fangs, fur, and crusted blood I prowl the corners of Charlottesville looking for a hapless victim or forty-five thousand.  I must pace myself because killing too quickly can lead to another economic collapse as services fail to serve and producers fail to produce because I killed them.  I select from bankers, managers, secret service personnel and politicians: the people who don’t seem to be doing anything anyway.  They taste a little lazy.  They are hard to digest, and no thrill at all to catch; you can find them heading to their cars at 4:57pm any day of the week – well, 1:57pm for bankers.

But we need bankers, managers, and politicians, you might say, except you have no wish to draw the attention of the massive figure that is me with my bright red eyes glowing out of my silhouetted form, which is always silhouetted since its size never fails to blot out the sun casting a brilliant glow on the edges of my fur.  Bankers manage our funds.  Managers manage our resources and politicians manage our laws.  Those are the claims you would make, that it is important that funds, resources and laws are managed.

As I chew on a fully armored bodyguard, which is I might add a more tasty treat then the greasy politician, I ponder this truth.  It is true that we need our funds managed, but it is not true that the banks have managed funds well.  Similarly managers fail to manage personnel and politicians fail to manage our laws.  On top of that, bankers tend to have trouble with their own funds, managers with their own productivity and politicians with their own ability to follow the rule of law, leaving me to wonder what exactly was the benefit of focusing their livelihood in avenues they clearly are not fit to pursue.

I am fit to pursue, and I do pursue screaming paralegals, political science majors, and Sarah Palin advocates.  Because these are people with futures, making them pleasantly flavored, but also these are people who will probably fail to think at some point right before thirty and never ever start to think again.  They won’t know it, and they will make faith based policies – meaning they are thinking with their gut.  I fail to see how indigestion is a very good source for financial planning, human resource allocation, or social order.

I feed on you, the one who knows what is right without a doubt, the one that knows how it all began and how it all ends.  I feed on you, the one who knows that social norms are the will of the majority and the rest of us should know better.  You make me stronger and faster but only to a point.  Because in the end, you are all the same.  You scream your little prayers and shout your useless curses.  And best of all, the economy continues just fine without you.  I prowl the streets looking for your friends to find another victim or forty-four thousand nine hundred ninety-nine.

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