A Message From Roger The Talking Canine

Despite the constant negative press covfefe -- A 6/1/2017 tweet from the Moron-in-chief. Sean Spicer says it wasn't typo, but that "the president and a small group of people know exactly what he meant".

Note that this is a recounting of events that took place the morning following my journey to the land of nightmares. So, sometime in late March of 2017.

"If you meditate on it, you will find that you have the ability to astrally project", Roger told me. This was the morning after I ate some bad pizza and had a nightmare. Much of which I forgot. I did, however, remember taking a bite out of a piece of a delicious deep dish pizza, then discovering, to my horror, that it was squirming with maggots. That was after I encountered a winged dameon in my bedchamber, and later, a talking dog.

"I thought that I dreamt you", I told Roger, the neighborhood dog I met before utilizing the portal (one that took the form of an atramentous orb), presumably to another dimension. Although I couldn't remember what happened after I entered the swirl of inky blackness, a mini black hole that transported me elsewhere. Though I did recall the events that took place before entering the gateway. Including my encounter with a talking canine.

I would have written down my remembrances in the dream journal I kept next to my bed, but the dog that wasn't mine was staring into my eyes when I awoke, which distracted me from my usual practice. And imagine my shock when he spoke! I had assumed it was another dream. Yet here he was, telling me that his name was Roger. Despite the strangeness of a talking canine, I took it in stride. It was nothing compared to my experience of having been abducted by aliens, after all.

"What are you talking about?" I inquired, referring to the suggestion that I was capable of astral projection. Being someone who has played Dungeons & Dragons, I know what astral projection is. It is a method by which an individual can leave their body and travel the multiverse in spirit form.

"I detect within you the ability to astrally project. It isn't something that everyone can do easily. But you? I definitely can sense that you are capable of it".

I pondered what this canine was telling me for a while. In the meantime I got up, put on my robe, went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. "That is interesting" I finally replied. Roger had been following me around as I went about my morning routine, all the while wagging his tail.

"I think you should try it", Roger suggested.

"I don't know much about it", I confessed. "I mean, I've heard about it. But I suspect that, in practice, astral projection can't operate the same as in D&D".

"You'd be surprised", Roger replied.

"Hmm", I muttered, shuffling into the kitchen. There I noted an empty pizza box lying on the floor. "This must be the pizza I dropped last night. Except I only took a bite of one slice". Where did the rest of it go, I wondered.

"Your pizza was very tasty. Thank you for leaving it out for me", Roger barked happily.

"But it was covered in maggots", I exclaimed.

"I didn't see any maggots", Roger answered. "It was a bit much for me, however. You might want to check behind your couch. Sorry about the pizza barf".

"Ugh", I said, looking at Roger disgustedly. But he did not hang his head in shame.

"It's not my fault my eyes were bigger than my stomach. You're the one who left it there", Roger replied, defending himself. While returning my look of disgust.

"I was going to offer you some scrambled eggs, but I've changed my mind", I said, taking a pan out of my cupboard and moving to the fridge to get the eggs. First I picked up the empty pizza box and tossed it into the paper recycling bin.

"That's OK, I've got to be going", Roger said, declining my rescinded offer.

Then he left, exiting my residence the way (I presume) he entered. Through the dog door. I had a canine previously, but she passed away a few months ago from old age. I was going to ask Roger if he'd like to live with me, but I guess he had other things to do. I rushed to the door to see if he was still there, but I didn't see him anywhere.

Guess I should clean up that barf. At least Roger told me about it, instead of leaving it as a surprise for me to find later. As I ate my scrambled eggs I thought about what Roger had said. I didn't know if I believed what he told me about astral projection. Something I also didn't know was what covfefe was. Suddenly the word or name popped into my head. I think it had something to do with the dream I could only partially remember.

It wasn't until some time later that I heard the word covfefe again. A tweet from the moron Vlad Putin helped steal the 2016 election. It must mean something, but WHAT I don't know. People who report on such things say they think he misspelled coverage. But my remembrance of the word 2 months prior suggested to me it must mean something.

I did look into astral projection a few weeks later. I was browsing in an old book store when I happened across a musty tome. This book appears to be some kind of instruction manual when it comes to astral projection I noted, flipping through the book. Plus it said Asstral Projection: An Instruction Manual right on the cover.

"Careful with that", the shop owner shouted at me from behind the register at the front of the store. "That is a very old and very valuable manuscript!" he exclaimed, approaching me.

I could let you have it for $200", the shopkeeper said.

"Ah, no thanks", I said, handing the tome to the shop owner. I was interested, but not at that price. "Also, it says Asstral instead of Astral. That causes me to doubt the content is accuate.

"That misprint makes it more valuable. How about $150?", the shop owner countered, seeing the sale slipping away.

"I'll give you 20 bucks. Final offer", I countered.

"Surely you jest sir. You must not be interested in this historically significant work at all".

"Not really" I replied.

Long story short, I got the book for $20, which (I thought at the time) was likely more than it was worth. For several nights I cracked the book and read before drifting off to sleep. It was actually quite interesting. But did it help me astrally project, the ability that Roger was sure I had? The answer is no. I followed the instructions but nothing happened.

A number of years passed and the memory of the encounter with the talking dog and his suggestion that I was a natural astral projector faded. I did see Roger running around the neighborhood just recently, but when I called out to him, he gave no indication that he remembered me or that Roger was his name. Perhaps it had all been a dream?

It was some time after that night that I received a message from the FBI. Specifically an Agent Smith. Possibly not his real name. Also, possibly not an FBI agent. This person might have been an agent for some other government agency.

The message? That I was being watched. Surveillance that likely ended after donald tRump lost the election and Joe Biden was inaugurated. Americans celebrated that day bigly. At the time I thought that meant that donald would be investigated swiftly, prosecuted and sent to prison where he belongs. But unfortunately that didn't happen.

But back to my story. Obviously I recovered the memories of what happened after I entered the portal, otherwise I couldn't have written about them on this blog. Also, while you may have expected there would be some astral projecting taking place following my discussion with Roger, this story isn't going to conclude with a successful journey to that plane of existence.

While you might be thinking that is an anticlimactic conclusion for this tale, all I can say is that's what happened. Nothing. Not as far as astrally projecting goes. Not at this point in the story, at least. Although that could happen some time in the future.

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My Message From The FBI, Delivered Via The Radio Waves Picked Up By The Fillings In My Teeth

One night I came into the Valley over Coldwater Canyon, and I heard music. I reached down to turn the radio off, and it wasn't on. The music kept getting louder and louder, and then I realized it was coming from my mouth. I even recognized the tune. My mouth was humming and thumping with the drumbeat, and I thought I was losing my mind. I thought, What the hell is this? Then it started to subside. I got home and went to bed, not sure if I should tell anybody what had happened because they would think I was crazy -- Lucille Ball (8/6/1911 to 4/26/1989) anecdote circa 1942 (attributed, although Snopes says "undetermined").

This is a recounting of events that took place in 2017. I wrote it up and put it away to be completed later. Though I never got around to finishing it. Now the teevee says there has been a second assassination attempt on the life of the horrible ex-predisent. Hearing this news jogged my memory. If you read the story you will discover why.

According to one of my detractors, I am a "Left-wing nutjob who probably claims he gets radio stations off his teeth". Although I think this person meant off the FILLINGS in my teeth. Some people, including Lucille Ball (supposedly), have reported receiving radio transmission via the fillings in their teeth. Although Mythbusters says it's impossible.

So imagine my surprise when it happened to me! I mean, especially given what my detractor wrote about me on his blog. He meant it as an insult; to imply that I'm insane (confirmed in a comment in which he wrote "his writings on his blog... prove he is insane"). But (at the time) I had not made such a claim. It wasn't until after a visit to my dentist to have a tooth repaired that it happened.

I was driving home in my company car (a 2011 Nissan Leaf) when the radio came on by itself. That's odd, I thought, reaching for the knob to turn it off. But it was already off. It was then that I realized that the music was coming from my mouth (like in the Lucille Ball story). Then, as I turned onto the road where I lived, the music stopped and I heard a man speak.

"We're outside the suspect's home right now" the voice (which wasn't my own) said from my mouth. "This is the guy who thinks he will become a true American patriot and save America from another Hitler by assassinating President Trump?" another voice said. "Yeah, that guy" the first voice said in response. "A Dervish Sanders. According to my notes he is a sad, useless person who could be sacrificed for the cause".

WTF?! I thought, slowing my vehicle. As I approached my home I noticed a black van parked across the road. The windows were heavily tinted. The closer I got the louder the voices coming out of my mouth got. Apparently whoever was in the van was responding to possible threats against the president's life made by some drunk who thought it was his duty to his country to kill tRump.

I accelerated past the van and pulled into my driveway. pushing the button on my clicker I parked and exited my vehicle as the garage door closed. What's going on here? What the man in the van was discussing sounded very much like words written by a troll on an internet messageboard I sometimes visit.

Peering out my front window I saw the black van parked across the street from where I live. While I am surely no fan of tRump and believe his election was illegitimate, and that he could be a possible Hitler-like figure (due to his association with the alt-Right), I've certainly never threatened to assassinate him.

Whoever these people were, their information was clearly wrong. Unless this was some kind of prank. Sitting in a bay window of an upstairs bedroom, I peered out the window. The black van remained for many hours as the sun descended in the sky and darkness fell. I had almost fallen asleep when I heard a voice again. Again the voice came from my mouth. A radio transmission picked up by the fillings in my teeth, I presumed.

"Agent Smith, what is the suspect doing?" the voice inquired. "We are monitoring his internet activity and have determined he isn't online" a 2nd voice (Agent Smith?) responded. "An infrared scan of the suspect's home shows that he's been looking out a second story window for several hours now. I think he is aware of our presence".

Hearing that shocked me. They were watching me and knew I was watching them. Did they know I was listening to them? I thought not. That is, until Agent Smith got on his radio and said "we know you're listening Mr. Sanders. Your home is bugged and we can hear our own communications coming from your residence".

"You want to kill President Trump, as$hole?" Agent Smith said (over the radio), an angry tone in his voice. "No, I do not" I replied (a reply I assumed would be picked up by the just mentioned listening devices). "The message board posting you referred to earlier was something posted by an internet troll that goes by the name of Luke Spencer, although he says his name is Luke Smith.

Several minutes passed. "You hear me?" I asked. "Yeah, I hear you Sanders" Agent Smith answered. "You should be investigating Luke Spencer, not me" I exclaimed. "Sure, scumbag" Smith said. "I've read your file. Seems you have an extremely anti-Trump blog. A blog where you claim that President Trump is both the reincarnation of Hitler and the Antichrist. Just the kind of nutjob that needs to be watched, in my opinion".

Peering out my window, I noticed that the headlights on the van came on suddenly, along with the vehicle's engine. Backing out, the van turned around and roared off. Apparently the man in the van decided watching me when I knew they were watching me was pointless.

Given the fact that I didn't want to walk around with radio transmissions coming from my mouth, I called up several dentists the next morning in an attempt to schedule an appointment, but none had any openings. I went into my bathroom with a pair of plyers. "Looks like I'm getting this out of my mouth by myself, then".

The message I received that night was that I was being watched. Or that agents belonging to a government agency had been watching me. I don't know if the surveillance continued after that night. I have no evidence that it did. Whoever the watchers were. The FBI perhaps? Or maybe the Secret Service?

I think it is possible that they might have taken my tip and looked into Luke Spencer (aka Luke Smith) and arrested him. He vanished and hasn't been seen online for several years. It could be because he is currently in prison. Or disappeared to a Black Site.


So now there have been two assassination attempts. This is what the fake prophet Troy Black said God told him would happen. Now that his "prophecy" has come to pass, the mentally ill trumper known as Mystere will likely see it as confirmation his delusions are reality.

Those delusions being that d0n0ld tRump is "God's chosen leader". I'm hearing that republiturds are saying that God is continuing to protect the horrible Orange Turd. Which I say is BS. Why would God protect an evil man like d0n0ld tRump? My mind has not been changed. God has never spoken to Troy Black and never will.

By the way, I have heard that the most current failed tRump assassin is again, a republican. Ryan Routh voted for tRump in 2016. Thomas Crooks was a registered republican. Yet the mentally ill nutter Mystere says that Biden "ordered" the first assassination. No doubt he believes Joe Biden ordered the 2nd one as well.

Violence and killing enemies is what rightturds believe in. As per Mystere, "The jackal and his hyena sidekick will be taken out very soon by God Almighty". Apparently God himself is going to assassinate Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. Or "take them out". And he doesn't mean remove from office, he means God is going to kill them. You can follow the link and read the rest of the comment.

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My Message From A Damned Ayn Rand, Delivered After She Emerged Burning From The Lake Of Fire

Don't you understand that when this life is finished, you're not there to say "Oh how terrible that I'm a corpse". What I've always thought is a sentence from a Greek philosopher, I don't remember, unfortunately, who it was, that I read at 16, and it's affected me all my life. "I will not die. It's the world that will end" -- Ayn Rand, appearing on the 7/2/1979 broadcast of Tomorrow with Tom Snyder.

You would be shocked by the identity of the individual from whom the next message I received came. If I had not revealed who it was in the title of this post, that is. Yes, it was (the deceased) Ayn Rand. The woman who founded the evil ideology known as Objectivism. So evil that it inspired the founder of the Church of Satan, Anton LeVay, who modeled his religion on it.

This message was delivered after Mrs. Rand emerged, burning, from the Lake of Fire. As per Wikipedia "in both ancient Egyptian and Christian religion, the Lake of Fire is as a place of after-death destruction of the wicked". Given that she was a truly evil woman, it was not a surprise, upon reflection, that Ayn Rand ended up here.

I was still seated at the far end of a 60 foot table, set with a rotting banquet. My host, a "Mr. Charles" (AKA the Lord of the Land of Nightmares) waved his hand, and, as if beckoned, a figure emerged from the Lake of Fire several yards behind us (a tributary of it, actually, given the fact that I was not in hell, but in the Land of Nightmares, but I digress).

The figure approached, aflame and screaming in agony. With another wave of his hand, the flames were suddenly extinguished. An ancient (but surprisingly unburnt, although completely nude) Ayn Rand pulled out a chair opposite me and took a seat.

"I desperately need a cigarette Frederick" the woman said in a Russian accent. Frederick produced a pack from inside his cloak, lit one, and placed it in the quivering hand of the jonesing nicotine addict. "This tastes so good" Rand remarked after taking a long drag. "To bad smoking is what killed you" Charles replied. "That's a load of horse manure" Rand protested. "There is zero conclusive, nonstatistical proof that smoking causes cancer".

"Yes, of course" Charles remarked sarcastically. "I think you might know who this is" Charles said, turning his head to look at me. Rand's eyes met mine, then she said "I have heard that you write nasty things about me. Things that are untrue. I do not hate poor people at all. If I were still alive I would sue you for libel, you cretinous scumbag".

The elderly Mrs Rand shook with rage as she continued. "Poor people hate themselves. They would not choose poverty is they had any respect for themselves. The poor are the lowest forms of life in existence and should be exterminated".

A few moments of silence passed. "Isn't there one other thing you wanted to tell Mr. Sanders" Charles finally said. "A reprieve from Hell for a damned soul is not something that is easily obtained". Rand, who had been silently smoking, drawing long, deep inhalations from her cigarette glanced at Charles, snuffed out her smoke in the carcass of a rotting turkey, then spoke.

"I would leap across the table and strangle this pissant to death right now if I possessed the strength" Rand hissed as she stared at me with a look of pure hate plastered on her face. "Calm yourself, Ayn", Mr. Charles remarked, looking slightly annoyed. "I am calm" Rand objected. "I'm just saying that it would bring me great pleasure to see the light go from his eyes as I choked the life out of him".

"I would be more than happy to let you do it" Charles replied. "But Dervish has protectors in high places, unfortunately". At first I was a little shaken by the fury of the angry Rand, but now I laughed. Although, remembering where I was, I stifled it and all that emerged was a single "ha". "What's that!" the Objectivist founder roared. "How dare you!". This time she did leap to her feet, but Charles blocked her with his hand.

His hand on her chest, Charles gave one of Rand's old sagging titties a squeeze, then he reached down and grabbed her by the privates. "I call this move the Trump" Charles said.

"This Trump obviously knows what women like" Rand purred, grinding her decrepit nether region against Charles' hand. If I had eaten anything recently the display would certainly have caused me to lose my lunch. It surely was a nightmare to behold.

Seeking to interrupt the two, I blurted "I guess the world didn't end on 3/6/1982, despite your belief that it would". "Very funny" Rand replied, taking a seat.

"I admit the world did not end as I thought it would. No matter. From what I hear this Trump will soon be your president. Although I hear he is elected over a woman. Obviously a dyke, as a woman should not want to be president".

"I also hear that the Trump has promised to do away with subsidies for poor maggots to obtain health care [1]. The perverse morality of altruism is the LAST thing America needs. Although Charles says a socialist dystopia is only to be averted thanks to the intervention of the Dark One".

"The Dark One? I thought you were an atheist" I replied. "There is no better cure for atheism than death" Charles chuckled softly. "Now I am done with you, Dervish. Begone. And YOU", Charles said, turning to Rand. "It is time for you to live up to your claim of being an expert sword swallower". Charles rose and began tugging at a length of rope around his waist. Once removed his pants fell to the ground, revealing a burned and shriveled member.

Gagging, I looked away. "Jealous?" Charles inquired. "Now get the hell out of here. My imp will show you to the exit". I looked around and saw the devilkin motioning me to follow him. Eager to leave, I walked quickly in the direction indicated, the intense heat causing my legs to feel rubbery. I heard some sucking noises and moans of pleasure as I quickened my pace, not looking back.

Another message from another individual was delivered before I finally made it back home, but that is another tale for another time. One that will be related on this blog in due course. Also (as previously mentioned) it was quite some time before the memory of what happened during my travels in the Land of Nightmares came back to me. When I finally returned home I fell into a deep sleep and, upon awaking, retained no memory at all of the messages Charles and Rand relayed to me. Not until recently, that is.

Footnote
1. "The House Republican bill [the American Health Care Act] would roll back the expansion of Medicaid that has provided coverage to more than 10 million people in 31 states... [also eliminated would be the] income-based tax credits that help millions of Americans buy insurance"... (Republicans Introduce Obamacare Replacement That Leaves Much To Be Desired).

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My Message From The Land Of Nightmares, Part 3

For many, the American dream has become a nightmare -- Senator Bernie Sanders. From his 7/22/2010 article No To Oligarchy.

I slipped my smartphone out of my pocket and glanced at the screen. The date according to the display was Monday, July 8, 2013. "You're not going to get any bars here" the figure at the far end of the long dining table remarked, obviously annoyed. "You certainly took long enough getting him here, imp" Mr. Charles sighed, chastising his minion. "Five days I have been waiting. As you can see, the feast I prepared for you did not last".

"I apologize, sir" the imp squeaked, several maggots dropping from it's greasy maw. "The human got lost". Charles stood and angrily shouted "that is why I sent you to guide him, you worthless devilkin!". The imp, a terrified look on it's face, jumped down from and scurried under the table.

"Please, have a seat Mr. Sanders" Charles purred, a smile replacing his snarl. He pulled out a chair and motioned me to approach. Not seeing any other choice, I sat and Mr. Charles pushed the chair forward. "There you go" he said, sitting as well. "Please have some wine" he implored, pouring a deep red liquid into a goblet in front of me. "No thank you" I said, even though my throat was parched.

"Please, I insist" Charles demanded, pushing the goblet into my hands. I looked directly into his eyes. Two black pits set deep in a horribly 3rd degree burned face. "Do not be alarmed by my appearance" Charles implored. A response to my obvious revulsion. "As you can see I am a burn victim". Charles emphasized the word "victim" and flashed his pearly whites. "It's how I died. Burned to death in a fire".

"Now, please drink" Charles demanded, pushing the goblet up to my lips and tipping it forward. I felt as if my front teeth would snap off. Pushing harder Charles forced my jaw open and the red liquid entered my mouth. Lest I choke, I was forced to swallow. "That's more like it" Charles said satisfied. The pressure relented and he lowered the goblet to the table.

"Tastes good, right?" Charles inquired. I had to agree that it did. "Anyway, now that I have your attention, onto the reason I summoned you here". Yes, I thought. I was quite interested in why I was here. Ever since I encountered the Morpheus-kin and utilized the black orb which turned out to be some kind of transport device (which I how I ended up in this nightmare realm) I had wondered what the purpose of my trip might be.

"I have a message from my master" Charles revealed, grinning from ear to ear. Then he began to laugh. A deep guttural noise that sounded like Harvey Fierstein coughing up a furball. A feeling of dread overcame me. "What's so funny" I cautiously inquired. "You" Charles laughed. "You think your blog is making a difference. Yes, that bitch Monica told you that your destiny is to play a small but not insignificant role in the salvation of humanity".

"The Greys told me something quite similar" I reminded my host, interrupting him. "The Greys you spoke with are full of shit" Mr. Charles bellowed. "Your blog will make no difference whatsoever. The supposed dark days aren't the fake Obama scandals! The dark days will actually be much much darker".

"Much darker? What does that mean?" I whispered. "Bernie Sanders will announce a run for the presidency in 2015" Charles told me. "But he will not be the nominee. Instead the nominee will be Hillary Clinton". Charles paused, then continued. "...and she will be defeated by Donald Trump!". Charles laughed again. "No, really" he said in response to the look of disbelief on my face.

"The American people aren't that dumb" I countered. "I mean, a LOT of them are, but not enough to elect Trump". "Sorry, but you're wrong" Charles retorted. "The American people absolutely ARE that dumb. Also, the Republicans have an improved voter disenfranchisement scheme known as Interstate Crosscheck. The ballots of over 200 hundred thousand legitimate voters will not be counted".

I sat there dumbfounded, unable to process what I had just been told. "I'm not making a prediction, by the way" Charles said after a few moments of silence. The reality TV buffoon donald tRump will be the next president of the United States". "No" was all I could say. "A Trump presidency would be a joke".

"Indeed" Charles agreed. "But still, it IS what will happen. Regardless of what you write on your inconsequential and pathetic blog, evil will triumph". At that moment a high shrill laugh emanated from under the table. It was the imp. Emerging from his hiding place the small horned creature, flapping it wings, flew up and alighted on his master's shoulder. Pointing at me he laughed. "He he he he he" the imp squealed. "Get off me, imp" Charles yelled, batting the creature away.

"Anyway, don't think for one second you can do something to stop this. The wine you drank will wipe your memory. After a nights sleep you will remember nothing of this encounter. Not until much later. But then it will be too late. Remember then what I'm telling you now. The Dark One is with Trump and Trump will be your next American president".

And, as it turned out, Charles was correct. After I left the realm of nightmares I returned to my bedchamber and fell into a deep sleep. Awakening many hours later I had no memory of what had transpired. Not of the imp or of what Mr. Charles told me about Donald Trump stealing the presidency. Not until recently. The wine Charles forced me to consume was a memory suppressant, as it turns out. It wore off eventually, but not in time for me to act on the information the Lord of the Nightmare realm had imparted.

Anyway, despite what that Freddy Krueger-esque asshole told me, I am sure the Grey aliens and the angel Monica had not misled me. And I surely am not going to believe good over evil. Which Charles had confirmed to me Donald Trump is. The Dark One had worked to insure he was installed as potus. And by the Dark One I (correctly) assume that Charles meant the Father of Lies (AKA Old Scratch) and not Vladimir Putin.

If only the suppressed memory had come back to me sooner (as opposed to 3+ years later) I might have been able to do something. Of that I am convinced. If not, then why would the Lord of the land of Nightmares have taken an interest? At the direction of Satan himself (no less)? My takeaway being that I must continue blogging and fighting against the evil forces that helped Trump to steal the White House and become another illegitimate president.

Though a much more evil one. Possibly the antichrist?? [1-2]. The extent to which his followers have been duped by this immoral man (who thinks sexual assault is something he is entitled to) convinces me more and more each day that this could be a very real possibility (check out this insane rant by one of his more deluded supporters and you'll see what I mean).


Footnotes
1. According to the evil blog troll Luke Spencer (AKA Steve), because I wrote #TrumpAntichrist? as a Swash Zone comment, and "I'm thinking that Trump might be the AntiChrist" on the RNUSA blog, I am 100 percent convinced that Trump is the antiChrist. Apparently he does not understand the difference between someone asking a question and someone making a declarative statement. That, or he's a huge liar. Regarding THIS post (which most people would take as a work of fiction) Luke wrote that he believes I am a "delusional lying idiot whose last post said Trump is the ant-Christ". I assume he meant antiChrist. Unless he was referring to an insect savior.
2. Also according to Luke (per his commentary "Dervish's Truths") I know with absolutely certainty that Donald Trump is the antiChrist. And that, when I write #trumpantichrist? (with a question mark), I am making (what I believe to be) a statement of fact. Just like I asserted it was a fact that Paul Ryan worships Satan. Even though the post is labeled as satire.

#TrumpAntichrist, #TrumpIllegitimate.

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My Message From The Land Of Nightmares, Part 2

Vision without action is a daydream. Action without vision is a nightmare -- Japanese Proverb.

Despite the pitch blackness that prevented me from viewing my surroundings, I did as the disembodied voice instructed and moved forward. My arms outstretched, I baby-stepped my way toward a door or wall the voice said was dead ahead. Eventually I felt my palm touch a cool hard surface. Running my hand back and forth and up and down I concluded I had reached what was probably a stone wall.

"Feel for a knob down and to your right" the raspy voice that was instructing me directed. I felt around in the location described and found a cold metal knob. Twisting and pulling resulted in a door banging into the tips of my shoes. Stepping back I swung open the rectangular barrier on hinges, revealing a dimly lit passage. Stepping through the egress I pulled the door shut behind me. "Er, wait a minute" the voice that had led me to the door squeaked. The knob was pulled from my grasp.

Surprised, I jumped away from the door into the passage. The door reopened and a small imp hopped over the threshold into the corridor. A old-timey oil lantern swung from a hook on the wall when I backed into it. The blood-red horned imp with talons protruding from it's leathery wings barred it's fangs and hissed at me. "Keep back human" the demonoid warned. "My purpose is to bring you to my master, he who summoned you here".

"Is that so?" I asked, not trusting this evil-looking creature. "Yes, Mr. Charles is waiting for you" the imp replied. "Who is Mr. Charles?" I inquired. "Enough!" the imp shrieked. "My purpose is to guide you, not to respond to your inane chatter". The imp flicked the door shut with it's tail. It slammed closed and I heard a click. "Yes, the exit is locked" the imp confirmed. "Not that it would matter. The portal that brought you here is one-way". The imp cautiously passed by me, keeping close to the opposite side of the corridor.

"This way" the imp said, motioning me to follow with one of it's talons. Not seeing any other option, I followed. Soon we came to a four way junction, oil lanterns hanging from the wall illuminating the way. The imp turned right and I continued to follow. Hours passed and the imp and I trudged along through the dimly lit subterranean corridor. Growing tired I asked demanded of the imp "how much further"? Stopping short the imp turned. an angry look on it's face.

"Not that far now" he said. "Although we should have been there long ago" the creature muttered under it's breath. "What's that?" I inquired, growing exasperated in addition to exhausted. "I misremembered the way" the imp concluded after standing there motionless for some time (apparently he had been pondering). "You mean we have to return to the 4 way juncture we encountered so many hours ago?" "Indeed", the devilkin affirmed.

"M-effer" I groaned, contemplating giving the small creature a swift kick. But the imp (reading my body language?) hissed and bared it's fangs. "It has been many years since I have been in these particular corridors" he explained. "Not that I need to excuse myself to human scum" he added. "Back!" he commanded, raising his small (but viciously clawed) hand, motioning me to press myself against the cool rock wall. Which I did, not wanting to tangle with a creature possessing razor sharp fangs and claws.

The imp passed by and we headed back toward the 4-corridor junction. Many more hours passed until we made it back to where the wrong turn had occurred. "Now which way?" the deviling hellion murmured softly. Minutes passed as the creature contemplated. "Well, we came from that way" I said, indicating the passage that led back to the room this journey began in. "And we went this way before turning around" I said, referring to the passage I was still standing in. "That leaves two options". "One must be the way to... wherever it is we are going".

"Obviously" the imp agreed. "But I can't recall which one". The imp was looking quite frustrated. "Damn!" he screamed suddenly after several more moments of silence, causing me to jump. "Mr. Charles is not going to be pleased". "Wait", the devilkin finally concluded. "If we return to where we started... there is a map there".

"But didn't the door lock when we left" I said, remembering hearing a click. "Shut yer yap, mortal" the demonoid growled, pointing a sharp talon at me as a warning. "Don't you worry about that". And, as it turns out, there was no need to worry, despite the door being locked. When we got back to where we had started our journey the devilish sprite stuck a sharp nail into the keyhole and picked the lock. "Bring a lantern" he instructed as the door to the black room reopened.

Bringing a lantern with me into the inky darkness illuminated the room. "There", the imp indicated, gesturing to the wall to the left of the door after we had entered. There, affixed to the stone wall, was an engraved map. A you are here arrow pointing to where we were. "That cavern is where we are heading" the imp said, pointing to a enormous blank space near the top of the map. "I'm not sure of the scale, but this appears to be many miles from where we are" I deduced while examining the map.

After tracing back the route to where we were, I concluded that we should have turned left at the 4-way juncture. There were, however, many other junctures along the way to the enormous cavern. "Perhaps we should take this map with us?" I suggested, reaching for topographical depiction affixed to the wall. "Oh no, that map is firmly attached" the demonoid replied, moving toward the exit. "No need to worry any longer, human" the creature assured me. "I shall recall the way, now that my memory has been refreshed".

And apparently he did remember, as -- after following him down the left corridor, we made our way with no hesitations at any further junctures. The imp knew where he was going (now). Or acted with confidence that suggested he did. And, after many more hours, the corridor opened into an enormous football-field-sized cavern (or many foot-field-sized, to be more precise). The cavern was lit brightly... and also quite warm.

In fact the temperature, before quite cool, increased to a degree that soon had me sweating profusely; and it was immediately apparent what the source of the heat was; a large burning lake of fire! "I do not wish to go any closer to the fire" I protested, feeling almost as if my clothing could burst into flame at any second. But the imp beckoned me on, pointing to the right. "There your host awaits you" he explained.

I looked in the direction the imp indicated and saw a long (60 foot?) wooden table surrounded by many chairs. Dinner plates, forks, spoons, goblets, bottles of wine and platters of food (down the center) rested atop the extended buffet. Approaching the far right end of the enormous feast, I was disgusted to find the food -- large platters of roasted chickens, bowls of creamy mashed potatoes, cheesy green bean casseroles, large brown gravy boats and various other dishes -- was rotten and squirming with maggots -- reminding me of that pizza I had almost consumed in my kitchen (so long ago now it seemed).

The worms slithered in and out of the decaying putrid feast. "Ugh" I muttered as the stench invaded my nostrils. The stink did not seem to offend the imp, however, who hopped up on the table. His wings flapping a few times as he hovered briefly over the mess, then touched down on the table top. "I am so famished" the imp exclaimed, grabbing a green chicken leg, tearing it off, and chowing down.

"Disgusting" I exclaimed as the imp devoured the remainder of the decomposing grub-infested poultry -- an act that almost caused me to vomit. "Over here" a gravely voiced proclaimed loudly. I turned and peered down the length of the table. At the other end a cowled figure was seated. This must be my host, I thought. Despite the intense heat a cold chill ran down my spine. Was this the mysterious Mr. Charles? The individual who had commanded my presence?

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My Message From The Land Of Nightmares Part 1

There are many who don't wish to sleep for fear of nightmares. Sadly, there are many who don't wish to wake for the same fear -- Richelle E. Goodrich, author of Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher.

My gut told me not to polish off the rest of the deep dish pizza with mushrooms, black olives and extra cheese, but it was just so tasty I couldn't resist. After gorging myself I brushed my teeth and retired to the bedroom. I placed my copy of the Hellraiser score CD (with music composed by Christopher Young) in my compact disc machine and pressed the play, then timer buttons. Finally I slipped under the covers and laid my head down on a fluffy pillow.

An indeterminate amount of time later I woke with a start. Slowly my eyes adjusted to the darkness and I realized to my horror that some other-worldly presence had invaded my abode. There crouched on top of my reading armchair was a winged daemon. It's appearance was humanoid, but with a simian-like pronounced snout, pointed ears and a dog-like nose. In human-terms, it's body appeared very much like a gaunt but muscular young man. A pair of leathery wings protruded from the shoulder blades of his hairless alabaster hued body. With the exception of a loincloth he was completely bare.

"I am one of the many siblings of Morpheus, the master of the land of dreams" he intoned in a deep resonating voice. My name is not important. What is important...", the unnamed daemon breathed, turning to stare directly at me, "...is that I am here to offer a warning. You will not wake from your slumber until he who has arranged for your visit to his realm has been rebuked".

"I'm dreaming?" I guessed.

The daemon answered "Yes, this is but the world of dreams, but the danger to your life here is very real. Or it will be, once you pass through the gateway". The daemon gestured with a clawed hand to a dark corner of my room, where I was surprised to see what appeared to be a mini black hole; a orb of swirling inky blackness that seemed to be literally sucking in the moonbeams that illuminated my sleeping chamber.

"What is that?" I managed to ask in a hoarse whisper.

"It is a conduit to the Land of Nightmares", the unnamed daemon replied. "It is also your only way back to the waking realm. You must travel there and defeat he who is preventing you from waking or your slumber shall be eternal".

"And who might that be", I naturally inquired.

"That shall be revealed soon enough", the daemon growled while flapping his wings. "But now I must depart, for any longer and the fact that I am attempting to help you will be detected and held against me". Then the daemon rose into the air and flew out my open window.

"That's odd", I thought. "I do not recall leaving that window open". Eyeing the black orb again I decided not to heed the daemon's advice and attempt to use it, if it were indeed a gateway to the land of nightmares. That was somewhere I decided I definitely did not want to go. I opened my bedroom door and walked down the hall toward the kitchen.

"A midnight snack would hit the spot", I said out loud for no particular reason. Opening the fridge door I removed a platter containing a second deep dish pizza that was untouched. Selecting a slice and raising it to my mouth, I was horrified to find it was covered with squirming maggots.

"Gross!" I cried, so shocked I dropped the slice on the tiled floor. No need to clean that up, since this is only a dream. "I wonder what my neighbor is up to?" I thought.

So I sprinted down my driveway and across the street. Circling my neighbor's house I peeked in a bedroom window. A young woman was lying in her bed, sound asleep.

"Can you hear me?" I asked, rapping on the window. Getting no response I tried again, this time very loudly pounding and yelling "Hello?". Just then I felt a wet nose touch my hand. Looking down I saw what I presumed was a neighborhood dog.

"You cannot stay here", the dog said. "Seriously, the longer you delay the higher the chance is you will be stuck in this in-between place for all eternity. The danger of that is great".

"So, you're saying I should use that black hole orb to travel to the land of nightmares... is that it?" I asked my new canine friend while scratching him under the chin.

"Yes", the appreciative canine confirmed, his rear leg thumping involuntarily.

"Very well", I dejectedly agreed. We returned to my bed chamber where the orb was waiting.

"Touch your hand to the orb and you will be transported", the talking canine instructed.

"Will you accompany me?", I implored, desperate for some help, or at least some companionship.

"Hell no", the dog barked, the fur on his neck bristling.

"I understand", I said. Scratching the canine behind the ear and patting him on the head I hesitantly raised my hand and touched my palm to the atramentous sphere.

Suddenly I felt my body being drawn into the black hole. Time and space bent, and, after emerging on the other side, I found myself engulfed in ebony darkness, unable to see my hand in front of my face. "Now what", I said out loud as the black hole closed with a sucking noise behind me.

I took a few tentative steps forward, feeling the rocky and uneven terrain beneath my feet. Thinking I heard something, I stopped. A noise that was clearly breathing. "Who's there?" I asked.

A raspy voice replied. "There is a door approximately ten paces in front of you". The unseen entity instructed me to move toward it.

Afraid, I yelled a warning. "I have a weapon!" I fumbled in my jacket pocket for my taser (a jacket I had fortunately thought to don before touching the black orb). It was an item I made sure was close at hand at all times. Given the fact that I was almost abducted and possibly murdered not that long ago in a restaurant parking lot.

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My Message From The Afterlife

Frisbeetarianism is the belief that when you die, your soul goes up on the roof and gets stuck -- George Carlin (5/12/1937 to 6/22/2008) stand-up comedian, social critic, satirist, actor, and writer/author who won five Grammy Awards for his comedy albums.

I would have paid for my gas using the credit card scanner located on the pump, but a sign said "out of order, please pay inside". While inside I decided to grab a 32 ounce soda from the fizzy drink dispenser (despite Mr. Bloomberg's warnings). After adding a minimal amount of ice to my cup, I filled it to the tippy-top with the possibly diabetes-causing caramel-colored liquid. I approached the cash register to pay when I noticed a man brandishing a firearm. He was pointing it at the frightened clerk manning the counter.

The robber hadn't seem me yet, so I wondered if I should try to be a hero. "Empty out the register", the ski-mask-wearing thief demanded. I was considering whether or not I should tackle him when the man suddenly pivoted to the side, keeping one eye on the clerk he waved his gun around, alternately pointing it at me and the frightened attendant. "Get over here", he yelled, indicating I should move toward the counter. "Don't try to be a hero", he warned.

Realizing I was in a situation in which I could very well lose my life, my hands started shaking. As I moved in the direction the thief commanded I suddenly fumbled my soda, spilling it all over him. Thinking I was making my move, the robber panicked and fired his weapon. Then everything went dark. I knew I was lying on the floor, but could not feel my body. Opening my eyes, I was surprised to see myself prostrate in a pool of blood.

I saw the robber grab the cash and run out of the store. The attendant behind the counter picked up a phone and dialed. "Hello, 911?" she said. "I was just held up by a man with a gun! Send an ambulance quick, a customer was shot!". "I feel just fine" I tried to tell her, but she did not seem to hear me. It was then that I felt myself drifting toward the ceiling. It occurred to me that I must be dead, but instead of panicking a odd sense of calm came over me.

"Now I know for certain there is life after death" I thought. And it appeared as though no shadow demons like in that Ghost movie starring Patrick Swayze were going to show up either, which was a good thing. I continued to float toward the ceiling, and then through it. Before I knew it I was hovering over the roof of the gas station. A bright light appeared in the sky and I involuntarily moved toward it. Clearly it must be the portal to Heaven. I found that if I resisted I could move in any direction I chose, but decided to allow whatever force was guiding me to move me in the direction of the light.

Soon I was there, and found I was correct about it being a portal, but the white light was so intense that I could not see what lay beyond. Whatever force was guiding me nudged me toward the lip of the portal. "I guess I enter the light and see what happens next". And so I did. Instantly I was propelled forward at what must have been a great velocity, although I only deduced that from the visual cues. If not for those it seemed as though I was not moving at all.

I moved rapidly though the tunnel of light... it was very much like how travel though a wormhole as depicted on the television series Stargate SG1 starring that MacGyver dude, Richard Dean Anderson. After what could have been either a few minutes or a few hours, I reached my destination and was ejected from the tube of light. Looking back I saw the tube fold in on itself, forever sealing off the route by which I had arrived here. "Where was here, exactly?" I thought, taking in my new surroundings.

Apparently I was up among the clouds, although this couldn't possibly be the sky above earth, as everything was much too white. White clouds moved against a white background. There appeared to be a solid surface beneath my feet, but I could not see it. I was reminded of that Warren Beatty film, Heaven Can Wait. I hoped an angel didn't appear and tell me I wasn't supposed to be dead... that I had been removed from my body by mistake and was going to be sent back in someone else's body. I wasn't sure I would like that.

Off in the distance I saw a figure moving in my direction. As the figure got closer I saw it was a angelic looking woman who was floating toward me on a beam of light. "I am a representative of the Creator", the angelic green-eyed brunette intoned, her voice sounding almost musical. "Hello", I replied nervously. I considered asking her what the 411 was, but decided against it. Then the angelic woman spoke again, saying "You may call me Monica". No, her voice wasn't musical I decided, instead it sounded like she had a faint Irish accent.

"Someone called Jerry told you that the Ancient Aliens TV program is no less believable that the Bible. The Heavenly Father wants you to know that simply isn't the case. Most of what is said on that program is far from the truth, while the opposite is true when it comes to the Bible" Monica said. "How odd" I thought. Odd that God would want to impart to me some information regarding a TV show. Also odd that most of it is far from the truth. Which must mean that some of it is close to the truth? "That is correct" the woman said, obviously reading my mind.

Something else suddenly occurred to me, so I decided to ask her about it instead of pursuing the Ancient Aliens mystery any further (at least not now). "Aren't my dead relatives supposed to be the ones who greet me?", I inquired. "Usually that is the case", Monica confirmed, "but you are not here to stay. You were not supposed to die in the gas station convenience store". "So you're sending me back", I said, barely believing my Heaven Can Wait guess was accurate.

"No, this isn't like Heaven Can Wait", Monica said, correcting me. Nor is it like Touched by an Angel, despite my name being Monica. "Huh?" I replied. "I've never seen that particular program. I've heard of it, but never watched even one episode". "Sorry" I added, thinking she might be offended that I wasn't a viewer of a program about angels. Monica explained... "by coincidence the main character of that program and I have the same name". But she reconsidered going into further detail. "Never mind. It isn't important".

"You're to be sent back in the body of a canine, like in the Chevy Chase film Oh! Heavenly Dog". "Really?" I incredulously replied. "No, that was a joke", Monica said, laughing. "You are being sent back in your own body. As for why... it just isn't your time. You were supposed to heed the advice of the mayor of New York and pass on that Big Gulp". "I was thirsty" I protested. Monica silenced me with a wave of her hand. "There is more you must know before returning", Monica said before pausing briefly.

"What the extraterrestrials told you is accurate. Your destiny is to play a small but not insignificant role in the salvation of humanity. Now, before that bit of information causes your ego to swell, let me emphasize the word SMALL. Your blog will convince a few MORE important individuals that they should get politically active and support Progressive causes. They will go on to play a greater role in the eternal struggle of good versus evil".

"Also, a warning" Monica said with a very serious look on her face. "There are those who want to stop you. That is why you decided to buy that large soda. A suggestion was planted in your head by those who wish you ill. These dark forces cannot manifest themselves in the physical world, but there are other methods by which they can influence events in the mortal realm. You must learn to identify when they are attempting to intervene and cause you harm, and ignore their suggestions in the future. Just listen to your gut and you should be OK".

"I will be not be permitted to help you again", Monica said. "At least not this ham handedly. I know you have many more questions, but that is all I can tell you. Now it is time for you to return". As Monica finished speaking a bright light appeared behind her. "This is the portal back to the world of the living" she explained, turning to face a brightly glowing disc. "But, I have so many more questions", I almost protested, but could not as Monica rudely shoved me into the portal before I could speak again.

A blindingly bright light engulfed me, and I expected I would soon be whizzing along a Stargate-like wormhole once again. Instead an overhead light appeared, and I realized I was flat on my back. A man wearing a surgical mask touched a electrical paddle to my chest, shocking me. "His heart has resumed beating" a nurse said. "He's back", the doctor confirmed, sounding relieved.

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My Message From The Extraterrestrials

When it talks about the sky people, how everyone comes from the sky and how the Pyramids were used for star observations, it's too much for me. It all seems to connect the dots. It's blowing my mind -- Katy Perry (dob 10/25/1984) as quoted in a 6/22/2011 Rolling Stone article during which Perry discusses her obsession with the History Channel show Ancient Aliens.

Someone recorded an episode of Ancient Aliens on my DVR. Another individual in the household who has an interest in this type of nonsense. I know I surely did not record it, as the message of the program is that aliens have been guiding humanity throughout our history... keeping us on the right path and nudging humans in the right direction from time to time, mostly thorough "unearthly inspirations compelling ordinary people to perform extraordinary acts". According to the show the aliens "thought it best to use members of the human population to communicate their message".

I decided to watch the program, despite my extreme skepticism. In the last 20 minutes of the hour-long program the narrator said, "in the Bible's book of Genesis, God instructs Abraham to kill his only son". Then the narrator asked, "but was this command really given by God?". An on screen "expert" theorized that "Abraham received multiple messages from more than one being", and that this explained why Abraham received contradictory messages... one message instructing him to kill his son and another telling him to spare his son's life.

It was because two different groups of aliens were feeding him messages. These two contradictory messages were given by representatives of two warring civilizations, or tribes of aliens who each wanted something completely different for humanity.

The people who came up with the Ancient Astronaut theory must be completely nuts, right? The Wikipedia page for the show says detractors have criticized the theories presented on the program as pseudoscience and pseudohistory. Another critic says "Ancient Aliens defies all ability to suspend disbelief for the sake of entertainment". Finally, a science writer for the Smithsonian website "characterized the show as some of the most noxious sludge in television's bottomless chum bucket".

Wow. That is pretty damning, right? You'd have to be pretty stupid to even entertain for one second that any of the theories presented in this program are remotely plausible. So imagine my surprise when I realized that I was one of the ordinary humans compelled to perform extraordinary acts! Yes, watching this program triggered a repressed memory of the time I was abducted by aliens from another planet and instructed to spread their message... a message designed to guide humanity along the right path, so that we might reach our true potential.

But the show said many people chosen to carry this message might decide to keep quiet due to fear of being branded as crazy. And that is exactly what happened in my case. I told the aliens to find someone else to relate their message to the world. But then they explained that all I needed to do was start a blog with which I could educate the public regarding the virtue of Progressive politics. We must all come together and help one another my alien friend explained. That is the only way humanity can move forward. If we chose the wrong path it would lead to our extinction at our own hands he told me.

What is the wrong path?, I asked. The wrong path is the one presented by Conservatives, a tall lanky gray-skinned extraterrestrial informed me via mental telepathy. I starred into a pair of large black eyes in an even larger egg-shaped bald head. The alien next informed me that some humans are finding their inspiration from another group of ETs who they are engaged in a centuries old conflict with. After eons of war resulted in an unending stalemate the two warring groups got together and worked out a method by which they would resolve their differences without any further bloodshed.

Humanity, they decided, would serve as their proxies. Both groups would try to guide humanity down the path they thought would bring them (humanity) prosperity. The two alien tribes were of the same species, but each held very different beliefs. The first group are a brutal and nasty lot who strongly believe in the theory of "survival of the fittest". This alien tribe became known as "Conservatives". The second group of ETs are peaceful and caring. They believe they are their brother's keepers. These aliens are known as "Progressives".

My Progressive alien friend told me that the Conservative ETs gave their "unearthly inspirations" to humanity in an attempt to persuade them to follow the Conservative path. In America those who have subscribed to these inspirations are known as Republicans. If the Republicans won the Progressive aliens would also lose and the government on the alien home world would be turned over to the Conservatives... as they had agreed when they consented to this proxy war.

However, as my alien friend explained, going down the Republican path would also lead to the destruction of America. This is where I came in... my place in this conflict would be to spread the word of Progressivism. My medium would be the internet, where I was instructed to start a Left-leaning blog.

Then the alien erased the memory of our encounter from my brain, leaving nothing but the seed of an idea behind. It was that seed which became this blog. I had forgotten it until now. That night I felt compelled to go on a moonlit stroll. Suddenly I saw a bright light in the sky. Looking up I saw a saucer-shaped craft hovering above. The craft slowly descended and landed a few yards away.

I did not run in fear. Instead a feeling of extreme calm and peace overcame me. A familiar lanky gray skinned being descended a ramp from the ship. "I sent you a subliminal message via that television program", the Progressive ET informed me via telepathy. "I saw the posting on your blog in which you contemplated quitting".

You must not quit, he said. Or I perceived him to say that, as he did not speak. I only heard his words in my head. "All this time you have spent writing has been in preparation for what is to come. Your writing is not yet strong enough to attract a large following, but soon it will be", the alien assured me. "How much longer will I have to go on writing posts that no one reads?" I asked. The alien told me I must not lose hope, because soon I would attract a enormous readership... although he could not provide a specific time-frame in which that would happen.

I was further informed that the Progressive postings on my blog were only a small part of the plan, but a vital one... which is why I had to continue. The Progressive ET said this time he would not wipe my memory. Dark days are ahead and the knowledge of what I was fighting for (and my importance in the alien plan to save humanity) was needed to keep me going. The alien told me the "dark days" that were coming were endless hearings concerning bogus scandals of the Obama administration.

That I must refute these phony scandals were among the final words the friendly ET imparted. Should I keep my alien encounter a secret? "That would probably be best", the gray-skinned being said, but I could write it up as a work of "fiction" if I so desired. And so I decided to do just that... present the completely true events exactly as they transpired as a story pulled from my imagination.

History professor Ronald H. Fritze says stories about aliens have a "periodic popularity in America", which explains why Ancient Aliens has been on for five seasons and 54 episodes. The viewing public likes it even if it is "noxious sludge", so me writing a post summing up my experiences might attract some people who are into that kind of thing. If some of them read my other writings (on Progressive politics), all the better. Whether or not they believe that I actually encountered extraterrestrials from another planet or not isn't important.

Video: "E.T." is a song by American singer Katy Perry from her third studio album, Teenage Dream (2010).

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