An older man, in trouble all the time, but good in his heart.

Where it counts. Where was just a spot in a wormhole of a warren of Chinatown. Just out of the tourists reach a place many natives had never come across unless they worked for social services. You could hide out here watching pirated cable and drinking box wine on an SSI check and so he did. Seemed like a logical choice at the time. Life had won the battle was done and he surrendered gratefully to his hole in the wall. If you avoid the trendy places you can go for years without running into any of your old friends. Until they came looking for him the apathy he'd counted on replaced by goddamn compassion.

Long time lurker first time poster

Where have you been bingymon?
Well if I told you I might have to kill you me and the whole kit and kaboodle. Top secret mission here producing progeny in the moat of despair. Its a dogs lifestyle for deadbeat dad's around here let me tell you. Keep hope and your ass alive and we will see what we will see.

as is does greatest crisis tests

another day to realize true players will always have to come forward relearn the game test themselves in ways that the training manuals will never predict.

BINGYMON IN FULL EFFECT

i GO BY THE NAME OF THE BINGYMON
IM HERE TO CHANT ABOUT ARMAGEDDON
IT ALL COME DOWN FROM UNCLE SAM
A WARNING TO THE IDREN
THIS IS THE TIME TO BE FIGHTING
FOR THE LOVE OF i CHILDREN
THE HEALER OF NATIONS
CONSCIOUS VIBRATIONS
BREAKING WALLS OF BABYLON
BUT THE WICKED WILL STILL COME
SO i MAN BE STRONG
KEEP OUT OF REACH
TEACH NOT PREACH
REVOLUTION
EVOLUTION
IMON A CONSCIOUS GANJA MON
I GO BY THE NAME OF THE BINGYMON
IN FULL EFFECT CHECK IT AND SEE

vallejo dreamin

photo
Originally uploaded by johnny94110

when i run good like a beast tearing up highyway 80 until i hit sonoma blvd then its time to chill check myself for rattles or funny sounds when i run great then the universe is beautiful and i prove it thumpity thump thump pow pow pow pow POW! and we're moving to that beat and the earth is curved and i caN PROVE IT! Snap th' throttle nice please again YES! and find that sweet spot that pulls so hard up and over every hill now keep it there and grind as hard as you can as hard as you dare i dare you

The Struggle

"Excuse me sir I'm Dell Boston from the Bostonian and I wonder if you could tell our listeners why you are down here on the docks protesting the new union contract especially since it was ratified by an overwhelming majority of voting union members two weeks ago."
"They Lied."
"Who Lied?"
"Them."
"Them Who?"
"The Guys Upstairs"
"Why would they lie?"
"That's what they do they're liars."
"Can you be more specific?"
"If it's a three handle Gucci knockoff we are recreating the union contract stated that counted as a bag and a half which is how we meet performance baselines, by "bags" in 5 specific size ranges. Furthermore if we exceed these baselines there are performance bonuses which for many members is the extra oomph in their paycheck that helps them make the decision to keep little Timmy in the family or leave him at the ER with his PlayStation, Again."
"I See."
But really I did'nt.

Playa del Rintintin

"Do you have a Mexico Dog? because that looks like a Mexico Dog and as so an example of a dog whose genes are identical to dogs that once roamed the holy lands with the crusaders."

"Before dogs were bred they were first just fed so they hung around, they got to like fire and fresh meat leftovers. As long as they didn't bite the humans too much and barked whenever the wind blew which kept the furry humans on their toes it was cool for dogs to hang around and chill with the beta version humans. Some of the braver ones crept into a humans warm tent or cave on a cold night, and even they though they had fleas so did the humans so nobody cared and it was warmer all around. A family began to naturally include dogs which was fine but then the Europeans began breeding them all which a ways which really fucked things up for dogs, evolutionarily speaking of course."

" So you see why it is so significant to see this fine example of a Mexico Dog who has in his recent genetic memory flashback images of running down slaves in the jungle with the foot soldiers of Inca Kings."

"They are generally skinny living on scraps and the stray chicken or two "done in" in secret. In color they tend to match the dust of the area in which they reside. They have skinny snouts, pointed ears similar to ridge backs but less beefy, never more than about 50 pounds, you've seen one you've seen them all, Mexico Dogs"

"Command them with respect my friend for they are full of wily cunning even as they sleep in the shade 18 hours a day, they are thinking plotting and planning , but in a very relaxed way, I might add. Conserving energy then slinking off when the time is right to carry out their instinctively driven assassinations, there are some that say they hold elections and have a court of law."

"I would watch them my friend and learn as we have done to respect and honor the Mexico Dog lest his wrath befall us and oh what a mighty wrath it is. El Presidente? You will never ever in your life see him so much as sneer at a Mexico Dog. He knows what they are doing for him, by sitting under a hot tin roof staring out with blackest brown eyes from the back of a tiny shack just past the short swath of jungle screen for the tourists in Ixtapa. He knows the power that these ancient guerrilla wolves are holding in check so that his kind can pretend to rule."

"Which is why nobody really counts the chickens as long as there's enough to go around the Mexico Dogs are satisfied to rule by remote control. Oh and by the way I dig them I get what they are saying, mi comprendo, but I can't tell you because The Lazy Gang of Our Lady Anoche Distrito Federal has sworn to me to a nondisclosure agreement about any data in any format remotely connected to any Mexico Dog."

danger, excitement, and crime

Heyoka and a fond farewell to all the burning flying failures haunting the airwaves tonight. My brethren you know what I mean when I say times are lean. Our syndicates will be in disarray if we squabble over crumbs now. Not many will be left as it is and LE's on our payroll are squalking about making more with overtime than the vigorish so why the hassle. People are ya ready for the sunset of the modern day criminal or is this the beginning of brand new era of lick hitting and trick splitting. I know what your answer will be for it will come in your tribute and if you have it to spare in the agreed upon amount then I will understand if there are no bonus or surcrease high percentage lots of invisible preferred stock for the time being. If it is less than the agreed upon amount that you dain to offer me I will ask you to kindly dig into your savings until they are exhausted and then you can bring all your families to live in my compound as guests of my house until the overdue tithes are repaid with interest. Only the men with true street mastery will survive the coming onslaught which is why I must also ask you not to put your money into CD's and report to federal prison thinking it will be better than owing me a penny. Lotta sacred clowns in the CDC too just trying to pay a mortgage and mama's varicose vein treatment, they will sell you to my insiders for the down payment on a bass boat. When my sons leave Oakland to walk among you, hungry as wolves with twice the cunning you will know my wrath in a way that no software upgrade will ever make right again. Their entree' into your high walled fields will be child's play for them, you will like them better than you do your own brother as they take everything you ever had and thought you might have including the love of your family. Better sell those burdens you've been carrying and try to step up if you want to stay in the game this time, my brothers. Are you feeling thirsty yet? Well you will be, and I'll be the only man with a hose that works in town, maybe even worldwide because I rise like that. The loyal ones who have heeded my demands will get water in abundance and the lazy dogs will die of thirst. That is a fact of life, which is why I urge each and everyone of you (who I do think of as children) to do your best to steal as much as you can from whoever you can as fast as you can so you can stay safe in our little family. Well I think you get the picture, this is Concealment Commander Godmother Blanco IV saying goodnight and God Bless.

End of Broadcast.

The lovely mothers voice was heard blaring over the Tuluum police frequency every night at 9pm for the past seven days, corresponding with the annual parking lot feast feast at Yardbirds Crime Tech Superstore in El Camino. In non productive news today there is a report of unphotoshoppable graffitti that appeared on the Pepper Slaves United Biactivistic temple stairs that appears to be a link to the website of an undergound unitist cell expressing audio deviancy in unacceptable quad cam equation levels according to local athoritays.

http://www.myspace.com/andreism

Diamond Light Forehead Beam Application

I knew I'd paid too much for this soft cell injection kit but it was my last fucking hope. I screwed the headband down tight until it hurt and I could feel the blood getting trapped in the veins in my temples and pumping underneath the metal strip. I could feel each individual vein and they were screaming let me go. My vision got blurry as I positioned the guide to the spot above and between my blood shot eyes. I loaded the cell and searched for the on switch as my knees buckled. It was time, now. I smacked the switch down with my hand , hard enough to feel it dig painfully into my palm, then the flash blasted me and my kneecaps cracked as they struck the dirty concrete floor.

I woke up looking at pigeons flying over me . They seemed to flinch as they passed through the projection of laser light, but that couldn't be I'm the only one that can see it. I rolled onto my side and removed the headband. There were spots of blood on my pants where little bits of broken glass had dug into my poor kneecaps, not broken but they ought to be. I stood up and looked around, time to try this shit out.

The instructions were written in Mongolian engrish but clear enough to anyone familiar with illegal neural software. I could access the menus by staring at the point the laser projection landed on a surface then slowly close my right eye and hold the left wide open for 10 seconds until the cursor appeared. Then I could open the right and see the menus super imposed on the already superimposed laser image. I scanned them quickly and just upped the energy allocation levels to maximum, I could tweak the rest later.

With the diamond light appearing to increase as my energy returned I moved to a window grabbed an old table swept it off and looked out the old torpedo factory window towards the Potomac. Assuming the lotus position I cast the beam out and across the river towards the heavens. Instant and total mental clarity was what the ad had promised. I needed it now or the schizophrenia inducing virus I'd contracted in Albuquerque was going to shred my remaining sanity to bits. Bits I'd never put back together.

I sat there for 48 hours without moving a muscle until I passed out and hit the floor. the shit had worked but not in the way I expected. I was a wisp of air that was lighter than air my soul washed away into the ether. If I crawled out the rusted door of the factory and met the wrong people I was doomed to a life of unspeakable crimes. If I made it to my old high school library and found the Teacher still working there straightening the shelves I had a chance.

I found my pack and downed the half gallon of electrolyte water and ate a protein bar. I made my way downstairs past the piles of pigeon droppings and out to the street. The first thing I need is some sunglasses, this diamond shaped laser beam shooting out and through everything like a red hot knife through butter is fucking blinding me. I sighted down King St on the Masonic Temple and projected myself into the Egyptian Room on the 5th floor. From there I could see my old High School and projected onto the roof of the library. The rest of my story is ancient history, now retold in Annals of the 4th Psi War 5th edition.

Suicide Bomber Backbeat

90,000 Iraqi civilians dead I guess we got some payback for, whatever it was we thought they did to us, and here's a lighthearted music video by the folks we gave so much inspiration to. Bring that beat back! oh wait better not...

Venting , Raving, Panic Attack, I don't care what you call it

If Mcain /Palin gets elected I would support California's secession from the union by armed insurrection if necessary. I was going to propose putting Republicans in internment camps but there's too many of them here and California Republicans are more about keeping their money than about repressing freedoms so if they can be convinced there's a chance to make a profit they'll be co-opted. The gun nuts will also be down with fighting the feds so they can go straight to the front lines and start shooting those 50 caliber sniper rifles, because the bottom line is they just want a chance to kill somebody, anybody, and not have to go to jail for it. This would also be a good time to empty the prisons like Pelican Bay in exchange for 2 years service as suicide bombers. It's the christian religious conservatives that would have to be shoved across the Nevada border, along with the Scientologists and anyone whoever donated a dime to Lyndon Larouche. Wandering in the desert might be good for them and prepare all three groups for a rapture of their own choosing.

Our main industry will of course be weed and organic produce. We can buy whatever else we need from China in exchange for the homes of Hollywood Republicans.
OK that's about as far as I can get with that type of rant. If you motherfuckers elect Sarah Palin president all I can really do is pray like a snake handling baptist that you get what you deserve.

in rudy's basement park fairfax

In between rehabs I was crashing in my childhood bedroom back in Alex. VA. Smoking weed on the DL and drinking beer when I could. Rudy Rodan would call me up and we'd smoke hash out of a meerschaum pipe and listen to Lee Scratch Perry. Rudy took Perry's lyrics literally unfortunately, and would proclaim to all and sundry that he was a "Black Jew". He was neither, he was however schizophrenic and spending more and more time in locked psych wards throughout Northern Virginia. In manic episodes he would try and walk to Richmond from DC and would be found incoherent on the side of the road. I remember his hands were clammy from the side effects of Haldol and the constant chain smoking of Marlboro reds.

We would ride around listening to GO GO and Old School Rap on KISS FM going to various spots to cop weed often without success. ( I believe I was supposed to be at 12 step meetings, forgive me Mom and Dad)If no cannabis could be found we would catch a buzz by scraping every used smoking device we could find until a pile of resin was produced and then smoked holding every nasty cloud of foul smoke deep in our lungs.
There are times when I miss that feeling of complete and utter aimlessness. I was just waiting to for the smoke to clear from my latest drug fueled disaster so I could go out and do it again. Rudy Rodan was waiting until he could stop taking his psych meds long enough to let his mind fly away again. We were brothers in this state, listening to Rastafarian chants hoping for a clue that would give us both meaning.
I'm not sure what happened to Rudy Rodan, last I saw him was on the porch of his Mom's new condo, smoking one cig after another, asking if he could come live with me in California. A tall white man with a strong southern accent, thick beard, shaved head, white oxford shirt, black jeans, doc martens, who would swear he was a member of the lost tribe of Israel. I'm sorry I lost touch brother, schizophrenia's just another word for nothing left to lose.

so wrong and yet so right

those are unreal tournament sounds not quake BTW

sunset pancake hill

sunset pancake hill
Originally uploaded by johnny94110

the eastcoast is so green and full of old family friends that care about me very much, but I will miss the west soon I'm sure

back on the east coast

and it is another world that I no longer undrstand. We ate at a restaraunt in Concord NH called "The Common Man" apparrently it's become a chain of restarunts thats like a NH version of Crackerbarrell. They have free cheese and crackers with two dips and free chedar the dips one is an herb spread the other like thousand island mixed with cottage cheese. Then they bring you free "copper pennies" which are carrot slices in a sweet brine. The crabcakes were passable except for the rasberry aoli and a russian dressing shmear. the bathrooms have graffitti style quotations from famous new englanders and piped in audio of a woman with a thick NH accent telling the worlds worst jokes.

If I did'nt appreciate the absolutely effen fantastic food of the bay area I do now. Now i need a lobster roll. i'll add pics later, I cant look at them right now.

Flash Fiction Bingymon Style

I felt it that day I felt it all as I ran up the stairs two at a time. At the top of the third floor I spun a tight u-turn and skipped to the end of the hall . The keys were magically in my hand and I made the special half twist and shake with my hand to silently open the door. I was in the tunnel everything was fine. Shari saw me from the living room couch as I entered her bedroom.
"What the fuck are you doing here Wallace Beaver! I broke up with you a month ago! Get out Get out Get out! " her voice rose in pitch level straight to hysteria.
" I told you I was crazy baby, remember?" I calmly stated though chattering teeth as I pulled the top off a can of red spray paint.
I gave it six rapid speed shakes as my finger found the button on the top of the can and I focused on the beautiful expanse of white wall over her bed. These old buildings with their solid plaster walls heavy with the grime of generations, I love them so.
My arm swept up in a precise arc I could never repeat on purpose if I tried a million times and the can hissed as I liberated myself of the image burning on the inside of the front of my skull. It wasn't a bad word or anything about Shari, but I knew she would understand, I had explained all this on several occasions after I'd fucked her senseless. I'd repeated my mantra enough I'm sure that she could grasp my intention at least subliminally.
A perfect circle! I'd pulled it off in one move! There was a little side spray of paint on the tops of the giant pillow and stuffed animal pile but a little paint thinner would take care of that later, much later.
I reached in my messenger bag for the second can and felt something tugging at my arm and a loud rushing noise in my ear.
"Wallace! Wallace! WALLACE! I'M CALLING THE POLICE YOU SICK BASTARD!"
Shari's voice sounded as if it came from far far away like the galaxy in Star Wars. I had the blue can now and the details began to emerge , the delicate flowers and hearts that covered the skin of the sacred satyr that represented my love for Shari. It didn't matter that she had broken up with me I wasn't upset, but this work was unavoidable , a bullet train of intention that I myself had no power to stop. My feet felt numb my legs were shaking but I kept on, now the green!
I swung the can towards the wall, time for another perfect circle! But my arm jerked and my muscles spasmed and my arm would not rise it was trapped. I turned my head to the side and saw the reflection in the mirror over the dresser. The boys in blue! Two of them behind me holding my arms, they weren't worried, I wasn't worried, we were old friends.
"Wally, are you done now?"
"Yes sir, thank you."

the folly of youth

this made me feel better

chest pain

my heart hurts and i know why
but i'm stuck here for the time being
knowing that is knowing something
doesn't really lessen the pain just makes it real
it's not enough to overwhelm me
no feeling ever will be
and still i want to run
because it's what i do best
damn
down rating myself isn't working either
i'll do what andrew t said so long ago
pray for the willingness to be willing
to accept
freedom through responsibility

twittering, is it real?

Twitter Updates
I am hungry and I must rest there is much to do in preparation for the autumn pig slaughter 3 minutes ago
i once wrote a poem called "sweating lifes blood in the grip of society's mindcrusher" i was 17 or thereabouts 6 minutes ago
i remember once i caught a magic fish that had a yellow tag for which i recieved a 50 dollar savings bond i later bought bad salmon stocks 11 minutes ago
in florence arizona state prison i used all my charm to get librium from the nurse 5 minutes later i was released all charges dropped 14 minutes ago
i was in jail in casa grande arizona with an inmate named betelgeuse if the guards said his name 3 times he went into a rage i was kicking 16 minutes ago

the gangster chronicles were a band of young hoodlums age 8-12 in Landover MD circa 1970 they merged with the crunchberry disciples you see 27 minutes ago from BeTwittered
johnnytoobad yea though i walk the valley of the shadow of death i shall fear no muttonchop wannabe or his petulant children 30 minutes ago from BeTwittered
johnnytoobad The author of the crashberry chronicles was an unknown poet from the upper eastside I channel his wisdom forthnnightly 34 minutes ago from txt
johnnytoobad Shoulda coulda woulda been a reggae superstar bingymon meets the rockers uptown inna dub roots style yes I about 4 hours ago from txt
johnnytoobad My house is the riggity wreckest its ever been the 4th will be a national day of cleaning at my crib 11:45 PM July 03, 2008 from txt
johnnytoobad @ HenryRollins you're a long way from hagen daz in georgetown where I first saw you and Ian I thought you were marines gone awol 12:33 AM July 03, 2008 from txt in reply to HenryRollins

More French Versions of Live Free or Die

The French have got the spirit no wonder this phrase has been in my mind for so long.

Vivre libre ou mourir

Vivre libre ou mourir
Originally uploaded by GerryL

"French for "Live Free or Die" is inscribed on the centerpiece monument at the Pantheon in Paris"

Horace Andy "Spying Glass"

You live in the city

You mind your own business

What you see you don't see

But some people they always see

They never mind their own business

You move to the country

You live in the hills

You think you're far from the wicked

When you check it them a use spying glass

They want to know all your business

You live in the city

You stay by yourself

You avoid their company

Still some people are prying you out

Just because you are rasta

Why I did it

Live Free or Die
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Jump to: navigation, search
This article is about the state motto. For other uses, see Live Free or Die (disambiguation).
"Live Free or Die" is the official motto of the U.S. state of New Hampshire, adopted by the General Court in 1945. It is possibly the best-known of all state mottos, partly because it speaks to an aggressive independence inherent in American political philosophy and partly because of its contrast to the milder sentiments usually found in such mottos.
The phrase comes from a toast written by General John Stark on July 31, 1809. Poor health forced Stark, New Hampshire's most famous soldier of the American Revolutionary War, to decline an invitation to an anniversary reunion of the Battle of Bennington and to send his toast by letter:
"Live free or die: Death is not the worst of evils. "
It may have an earlier origin, as mentioned in Burke's 1758 The Annual Register of World Events: A Review of the Year, q.v. at google books.
The motto was enacted at the same time as the state emblem, on which it appears.

Or Die 3-23-94

Or Die 3-23-94
Originally uploaded by johnny94110

the other side

Live Free

Live Free
Originally uploaded by johnny94110

new tattoo today 6/05/08