A walking accident

These are two of the few accidents I had as a child. My mother told me several times

that she didn’t think I was going to live to be an adult. Asthma or injury

was going to kill me. This the same woman who told me that I was going to have

retarded kids if I made fun of retarded people. I beat her on that one.

I may already mentioned that I got hit by a light blue caddie on my sixth birthday

while I was in an foster home. If you haven’t read that blog yet GO FUCKING DO IT

That was the first accident that could have killed me but not the last.

Dumpster boy

Years after the car incident I had an adventure in an alley that fucked me up but

good. Like every red bloodied inner city boy I enjoyed my time in the various junk

yards and alleys (It wasn’t like Fat Albert but it wasn’t that far off) My brother

Raymon,d my friends and yours truly were playing behind a bar in an back alley in

a dumpster. We were actually taking turns swinging on the handle of the dumpster,

you know good old fashion fun. When my turn came this little fucking sociopath

named Eric decided it would be a good idea to push the oversized garbage can on

my head. I can still remember that head over heel feeling and seeing my feet

in the air. Next thing I know the dumpster is on top of me and my little brother

is trying to pull it off me. I can remember thinking I’m going to die and Raymond

is going to be very sad. Ironically enough Eric’s big sister did get the dumpster

off and carry me home. I recall seeing my self being carried to my house,

my mother losing it as she sees her bloodied child, a stranger who happened to be

working in his car in front of our house race me to the hospital three blocks

away. The strangest thing to me was the entire time every thing was in blue. My

mother, the car, the doctor, my own body all in blue. I had a dislocated shoulder

and a wicked fucking scar on my right temple that is very sensitive to this day.


I was out in my yard playing with my brother and my best friend from next door and

his cousin who I kinda like ( but not really.I hate him and his grandmother). we

were dicking around in our back yard because my mother wasn’t there and we couldn’t

play outside but the back yard was ok. For reasons that are not clear to me now I was

pissed about something and I stumped my left foot directly a board filled with a bunch

of ten penny nails. The minute I put my foot down I knew I had made a big fucking

mistake. Your natural reaction is to pull your body part away from the pain which hurt

as much as putting foot on the damn thing. As I crawled for the back porch I started

shaking just a little so I started calling for an adult. Uncle crack head (who was

years away from being a crack head) graciously picked my stupid ass up and brought me

inside. When he put me down it hurt like a motherfucker and I remember trying not

cry. We I looked at the bottom of my left shoe and saw the hole and tried not to

cry. When my uncle took my shoe off and I saw blood pump out my foot I cried like

a bitch. The nail had stuck the middle of my arch and it bleed rather profusely.

I can remember aunts and uncle trying to batch me up but the wound just kept

bleeding. Time for another trip to the local hospital. The Indian doctor told

me in his broken English that I may have scrapped the artery in my left foot. My

mother almost grounded me put she felt too sorry for her limping little boy

Too long,too costly, and certainly not fair

The vast majority of my outlooks on life are very liberal with the exception of a few. In this blog

I’ll focus on the main difference between me and some liberals. The belief in the right for state and

citizens to put down those who should not be sharing our oxygen. I do not mean every person

on death row or every person convicted of it. Killers who have irrefutable proof against them

would be dead in less than a year. A perfect example is John Wayne Gacy. It took the state of

Illinois well over ten years to give him a shot of “night night keep your but hole tight”. If you

have bodies buried in your crawl space you should be dragged from your home kicking and

screaming and beat to death with claw hammers and aluminum bats

I like to start off by saying the way we put people down is entirely too expensive. A bullet in

the head is not costly. Why not just leave them tied to stakes outside and let nature take its

course. Burying a multiple killer alive sounds cost effective to me. Victims’ families should have

the right to their pound of flesh also. If they wanted to dispatch this person themselves in

my world they would be more then welcome to beat that person within an each of their life.

I understand that some people are legally insane but I simply don’t give a fuck to be honest.

Putting a woman like Andrea Yeats in a hospital for the rest of her life seems like a slap in the

face of natural justice and her wet dead children. I would also put her husband in jail for quite

some time. He was the closest adult to her and the father of her children and he knew that

something was seriously wrong with her. He knew she had severe post partum depression with

their fourth child so why in your god’s name would you get her pregnant again. He is almost as

culpable as she is. In summary the crazy fucks get a bullet too.

Serial rapist and pedophiles for the most part can’t be reformed so why even waste time. I’ve

always been big on revenge so again the victims and or their family come into play again.

Whatever they want to do to the person would be acceptable. I not sure what would be a

fitting punishment for men who steal the innocence and trust of a child and turn them into

used goods before they reach their teens. I guess if I could promise the families a fresh rape for

the molester with an ever larger penis each week I would be comfortable.

The things you do for friends

About two weeks before my biggest asthma attack ever I was over in my old neighborhood waiting

for some someone to show up. It was friday afternoon and I decided to hang with my friends before

going home. After sitting on my grandmother’s porch for about an hour or so my best friend

arrived. We talked about our experiences so far in high school and whatever teens boys at that

time talked about. After a while we decided to go get something to eat. Chinese food, ribs and

average American fare awaited us three blocks over. On our way there we spotted this kid

getting his ass kicked by a bunch of Vice Lords. My best friend and I knew this nigga but he was

kind of a asshole to me so I didn’t give a shit. It would not have been the first time I saw

someone get their ass kicked. My best friend knew this guy longer then I did and he wanted to

defend him and since my best friend was my best friend I had to defend his stupid ass. While

we confronted these seven or eight gentlemen the guy who were trying to protect split the

scene. The ringleader hit my best friend with one punch and knocked his two front teeth out.

Fuck I thought to myself now I actually have to fight. Being born and raised on the Westside of

Chicago I made it a point for most of my life to carry some kind of weapon on me and that day

was no exception. I had a brand new acid wash denim jacket (Fuck you it was 87′ acid wash was

the shit then) with a nice length of chain in my pocket. I took it out wrapped it around my hand

a punched one guy in the temple as hard as I could. I didn’t even get a chance to see if the nigga

I hit went down. The next thing I remember I was crawling up in a ball getting the shit kick out

of me by six or seven motherfucker. getting up from the beating I recall this old man smiling at

me saying something but I guess pain makes you deaf for a while. After we got up and went home

my best friend was headed to the doctor with a bruised and bloody face. My oldest cousin who

was a State Trooper happened to be visiting on Sawyer asked me if I wanted to handle it. I

thought about it for a second and said no. I didn’t live there anymore but my best friend did

what would have happened if these niggas tried to pay him back? No I just went home with a

pounding headache that lasted a week and a little blood in my urine. Ah the good old days.

COMICS TOBG: The best comic mini series no one has ever read

In the fall of 90′ I came a across a miniseries for a minor Marvel character known as the

Foolkiller. There had been two previous Foolkillers unrelated to Kurt Gerhardt the man who

would become the third Foolkiller. It started with Gerhardt’s father being beat to death by a

bunch of skinheads for six dollars. They show the false teeth being kicked out of the old man

head. Everything begins to spiral down from there. The company he works for downsizes and

he gets laid off. After months and months of looking for a job he is past the breaking point and

is severely depressed . His marriage is over and the only thing he wants out of it is the computer

and his clothes. He moves into a rundown apartment building and is hired at a pseudo

McDonald’s slinging burgers. During a robbery Gerhardt loses it and attacks one of the robbers

while screaming “six dollars!” and has his ass handed to him for this.

While watching a Morton Downey jr. knock off talking to the second Foolkiller from a mental

institution and becomes intrigued. They use a computer bulletin board to have conversations.

As they are kindred spirits the second Foolkiller tells Gerhardt to get in contact with a

associate of his by the name of Merle Singer who the second Foolkiller “help” after her

boyfriend threw acid in her face. She gives him a extra costume and the purification gun.

As he leaves he is confronted by skin heads who try to rob him. The Purification Gun

turns them into ashes and they become his first victims. He over comes the sickness he

feels at watching the skin heads die and dons the costume and proceeds to turn a number of

filth and criminals to freeze dried shit until he runs into a hardcore criminal known as

Backhand and gets his ass kicked and barely escapes with his life.

After this confrontation he realizes he needs to toughen himself for the job he is about to

do. After working out and doing various things to harden his body and mind he dons a costume

made by himself and proceeds to “purify” a gang of youths attacking women in Central Park. I

will not tell you anymore about this miniseries because I would love for you to go out a buy or

order one of the best written stories in comics ever. I am sure you could buy the entire series

for five bucks or less. There are a number of reasons why this book never became popular.

There were no superheroes in this comic, the adults themes may have put younger viewers off,

Marvel did a shit job promoting this book, and last but not least the artwork was not very good.

Being a writer the story is always more important than the art work but you need that to draw

people in. This miniseries is as good a story as Watchman or the Dark Knight Returns with a

more realistic story line. This could be such a awesome movie. That and Blood and Shadows by

Joe R Lansdale.