Demon Inside #6

In reality this is another sick, evil, nasty old fuck. I say he's also possessed by a demon, and a very powerful one at that. This fuck scared the total shit out of about a thousand people in the chat, when they showed the "catch." Again it was a situation where they posed as kids online, and when this fuck set up a meeting, to do horrible things BTW, they turned up instead.

 It was hard to get stills from the video. For one thing the woman operating the camera was a bit shaken by this creature, and understandably so, but his face was morphing into all these hideous expressions so quickly that it was mostly a blur. He'd make Jim Carey proud. 

 You'd think it might be meds- either he was on them or off them, but he wasn't on any medication, which was verified by police. That's a demon at work. If this doesn't look like a demon, I don't know what does. That's some scary shit.

 As I've said, all Pedos are narcissists. Only someone who possesses zero empathy could ever think of scarring a child for life, for 15 minutes of gratification. Narcissists don't care because they CAN'T care...they aren't wired like most people. And I'm damn sure not defending them. 

Scary. It's hard to call this man human.

This is nightmare stuff. As usual, dozens of people commented on his "dead" eyes, that all these monsters seem to have. Again they said things like "I'm not really 'religious,' but this person has a demon." People can SEE it. 

 

 When you see what these people are really like, it makes you wonder how they've survived all this time. Granted they manage to keep their demons under control as it were, most of the time, and it takes an event that totally catches them by surprise, and takes control out of their hands, for it to manifest, but it does come out at times, and it's a wonder they've survived.

 I believe they've received demonic help all their lives. I also believe that narcissists are Satan's very emissaries on Earth, and the closest thing we can see to an actual demon. 

 This sick fuck didn't give a flying fuck about anyone or anything but himself. He was cursing, yelling, denying, deflectingmaking really weird noises and even growling. Even with three burly men holding him under Citizen's Arrest, the woman was still spooked. It was like he could shed his human skin at any moment, revealing the monster inside, and he might try to eat your face. It was that heavy. 

 

 It's hard to imagine living your entire life being such a monster, but they get off on it. They know right from wrong. They also know that deep inside, they're dead, dark, evil and tortured souls, but they have to completely flip it in their minds, because if they acknowledged it every day they'd go insane in short order, so in their minds they become these godly, superior beings, for whom laws and morals don't apply, and everything is only here for THEIR pleasure. Hurting people makes them feel powerful. How sad and yet Satanic to live a life like that. It's sick, but welcome to narcissism. 

 I'll say again that if you look up the classic symptoms of narcissism, it's EXACTLY the Devil's Standard Operating Procedure. Coincidence? I think not, but that's only my opinion, and I support your right to believe what you wish. I realize most people think demons aren't real, and that he has a chemical-imbalance or he's just an angry old fuck or whatever, but I say he's possessed by evil spirits. One day we'll know what the truth is. Have a nice day, and choose wisely my friend. 

 

The Hawk Feather Incident (rewritten)

I've told this story before but it still trips me out, so I'll tell it again. It took place about ten years ago. The night before I'd watched an interesting doc about a famous B-movie producer who'd recently died, as told by his friend, another movie producer. 

 I can't remember his name but he was and is a legend in the B-movie community, and also respected by "legit" filmmakers. Apparently he was a mega-prankster but a heck of a nice guy, and loved by all. He was also into hawks. 

 It was a well-done doc, and what was interesting was that there were lots of unexplained things that happened during filming, and they managed to work a few things into the film, such as weird video and audio glitches and batteries being dead right out of a fresh pack that was perfectly good a week earlier. I've had that happen before, more than once, and it's a tad unsettling.

 Of course they were speculating on whether or not their dearly-departed buddy could be causing the things to happen. For what it's worth, the guy had said that if he could he'd prank them from the afterlife, sort of like Houdini telling his wife that if he could, he'd contact her from beyond the grave, although she apparently never heard from him. Is it possible that B-movie guy had more success than the great Houdini?

 The craziest thing that happened was when the guy went out of town for a few days. He was obsessive about keeping his office completely locked when he was away, to protect his ideas, artwork, memorabilia and other valuables. He had the only key and he even sealed the vents and doors. When he returned from his trip and went into his office, he found a hawk feather on his desk. 

 Since he's a filmmaker he started filming. He looked a little pale and appeared to be genuinely freaked-out. He showed the feather apparently as he found it. It was parallel to the sides of the desk and appeared to be perfectly placed. I don't think he faked it. For one thing plenty of crazy things had already happened, some caught on film, but mainly it'd make him look stupid, and like he didn't have his security-shit together if a hawk feather could just waft its way into his office. 

 The next morning I woke up thinking about the doc in general, and specifically the hawk feather. I went up to the former Kangaroo Mart to get a coffee, which took maybe ten minutes. Imagine my surprise when I returned home and found a hawk feather on the porch. It stopped me in my tracks.

 It too appeared to be perfectly-placed. The day before I'd gone to the river and found an interesting rock. It looked like a scaled-down monolith, and almost like it was quarried. It had some algae on it so I'd soaked it in bleach and set it on the porch to dry. I naturally placed it in line with the bricks, and the feather was lying parallel to it. You couldn't have placed it any more perfectly. 

 It was Summer, and we were in the middle of one of those periods where it's like the Doldrums for ten days...hot, with almost no breeze. It was a perfect day for a hawk to catch a thermal, and I looked up but there were no hawks circling. For a feather to drift down from the sky and land perfectly two inches from a rock about the same size, the odds must be astronomical. It's possible, but I also considered the possibility, while slim, that someone was pranking me. 

 I also had to consider the fact that I'd just seen a thing where a guy found a perfectly-placed hawk feather on his desk, that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. I think that doc was the first time I heard the word "Apport," which describes it perfectly, if only in theory. An Apport is an object that appears and/or disappears from or into thin air, apparently without explanation. 

 I'm not saying that my hawk feather appeared out of nowhere, but if that guy's office was sealed, and he checked and said it was, then in his case it makes as much sense as anything. You know how it goes...sometimes the craziest possible explanation is correct.  

 I decided to leave the feather alone for the time being, and watch to see if anything else happened. I've seen plenty of hawk feathers in the woods, but I leave them alone because they're illegal to possess. I figured I'd eventually take it into the woods out back, but I left it alone for a while. I sat down and played my drums. I could see most of the yard, and I'd see anyone approaching the porch. I had a funny feeling something else might happen.  

 Usually I play drums with my eyes closed but this time I kept them open, and I never left the room. After about 45 minutes I went outside and the feather was gone. There hadn't been a puff of a breeze and I knew it couldn't have blown away, but I looked for it anyway. I got down on my hands and knees and searched the area and then searched it again, but it was gone.

 How could it just disappear? Did the hawk who lost it in the first place swoop down and snag it? Was it a really clever animal playing a trick on me? Maybe it was an Imp, ot the Hawkfeather Fairy or something. I'd have seen anyone over two feet tall approaching the porch, and again there wasn't a breath of wind. 

 As odd as it was that it happened less than twelve hours after I saw a doc about basically the same thing happening, and even if it was just a random feather that fell from a hawk's tail hundreds of feet up in the sky and landed perfectly on the porch by chance, it still defied the odds, and how could it just disappear? That type of thing gets my attention. Was it an Apport? One certainly has to wonder. Cool word anyway.

 

 
 

Retirement

Square Books has been on the corner of the town square in Oxford, Mississippi for decades. Back when I played in the Bud Greene band, Oxford was my favorite town to play in America. 

 Usually we'd play the weekend at a club there, and as hammered as we'd get after the gig Friday night, many was the morning I'd drag myself out of bed early, go to Square Books, grab a coffee and watch the world go by. 

Sometimes Greg would join me but usually I was by myself. I almost always sat in the top front corner. In fact if you look hard enough you might see me sitting up there. Not really...this photo was taken long after we were there. It still looks the same though. 

 I'd sit up there with the largest cup of coffee they had and an ice water, and ponder on things...why did I drink so much only hours earlier but how damn fun it had been, how blessed I was to be able to play music, and make a good living at that, who was going to be at the gig later that night, what was the meaning of life and such. Sometimes I'd think, "I could retire here." 

 It trips me out to think about that, since here I am at official retirement age. It's not like I was eighteen or anything when I was there...I was around thirty...but damn...here I am, over a quarter-century later. In a way it seems like a lifetime ago, but in a way it seems like the blink of an eye. It's freaking me out a little...how time is so subjective and fluid. There I was, in yon corner, thinking about the future me, and here I'm is, thinking back. What a trip.

 I took a few days off and came back to this post, and it's still tripping me out a little...I have butterflies in my stomach for some reason. It's like bookends...one bookend was me back in the day, sitting up on that porch, and the other is me now, looking at this photo and picturing myself sitting up there all those years ago. So much time, and no time at all. Time-travel is real, in our heads anyway. 

 So, will I retire to Oxford, Mississippi and go back to the porch at Square Books? It's doubtful, but never say never. It's still hard to believe how amazing a tiny town in Mississippi could be. My old spot is still there. I could be there in a couple of hours, grab a coffee, go out onto the porch and pick up right where I left off. In any case a part of me will always live there anyway. You can't have as much fun in a place as we had there and not leave part of yourself. I can dig it. Thanks for the memories, Oxford! 

 

Things You Don't See Every Day

A fine sister seemingly excited about a miniature washing machine is something you don't see every day.