July 24, 2017

Jowan Osterlund
Biohax International
25225 Helsingborg
Sweden
+46 (0)733-263 736

Dear Jowan,

I had this letter hand delivered to avoid any possible hacking to our link.
My friend, you were right about greasing the rails with the Associated Press concerning the tone of the release.

It's pretty amazing when you think about it. We proudly announce that we'll be implanting our employees with an RFID microchip and the news lands with barely a murmur. Announcing it proudly was smart. If we're proud and loud about it, it comes across like we have no fear of reprisal, everything is safe and "approved", and the whole thing seems like just another step toward an inevitable future - first we put them in your pets for "safety", then we put them in yourselves for "convenience", then we put them in your children for both. Brilliant.

Like clamping a red metal tag on a cow's ear.

Had a great talk with Mesterson over at Epicenter. That guy is the Svengali of soft selling these things. They actually have parties, recruiting new members into the microchip "family" with bonuses and a fat load of peer approval. Oh my god, that guy. I took his advice and brought the idea to our employees with promises of instant access to any door in the building, unlocking phones and copy machines, access to any employee computer, additional medical benefits, and quick swiping of the embedded company credit card at all the office micro stores.

Once they get all giddy about it, we send them over to you and have it shoved under their skin, locking them in. Beautiful.

Mesterson said some pretty jarring things once the Associated Press left the room. He really makes no bones about what's going on here. We know the end game is to have everybody on the planet chipped by 2030. If we don't do it somebody else will and we will be left holding our cranks when the BIG switch goes live.

He made the point that, just as with television, computers and cellphones, you first make it a novelty, then it turns into an addiction, then it becomes a necessity in order to live in the society. One great thing in our favor is the fact that most people are lazy and dim. People willingly give their DNA to ancestry.com without reading the fine print of the contract. They even PAY for the privilege of giving up the rights to their own DNA. In our case we have people begging us to turn them into service robots for the corporate state, actually giving over their autonomy, their human right to individuality, all for the convenience of being able to buy a Zagnut bar a little more quickly at the gift shop.

I found it amazing that not one news organization covering this story even once questioned the undisclosed software, backdoor entries and neurobiological programming that come included with every device. Behavior "enhancement" is the next big sell for us to pull off. It's really about creating an environment where being human is seen not only as a disadvantage in a modern industrial society, but dirty and backward and primitive. Apelike, if you will. Then the choice is, be a monkey or be a useful cog in the machine.

Yeah! One zero zero one zero zero one, you fucking idiots. Ha!

OK, enough for now. Tom Kennedy over at Raytheon has a great idea for an untraceable "host termination element" within your device that I think you should hear about. He'll be contacting you in a week or so.

onward and upward,
Tom

Todd Westby
Three Square Market
2801 Harvey St.
Hudson, Wisconsin 54016


August 9, 2017

I started writing on this website a little over 20 years ago, before Facebook and Twitter, before My Space, before something like this was even referred to as a blog. I used to called it The Notebook. There was a good run going for a while, 2001-2003, when I was averaging around 100,000 visitors a month. Today, I would imagine I average about three visits a month - me, a buddy of mine in Northern California, and another buddy of mine in Poland. That's probably it. I don't know, I never check the stats. I guess I don't care. If I did, I would check. But I don't, so I must not care.

It's odd that I am busier now than I ever was when I had two agents "working for me" in Hollywood. Back then I seemed to spend a lot of time auditioning for jobs I really didn't want, and then waiting for jobs I hoped I wouldn't get. At a lunch with my theatrical agent, just before we parted ways, I remember saying, "You know what? From now on I just want to do things that I want to do." And I remember him immediately responding with, "Fuck you."

At the time I didn't understand why he had such a strong negative response to that statement, but I get it now. He was a frustrated artist who gave up on his own art to instead promote the art of others. He spent every day of his life doing an endless list of things he did NOT want to do.

But that wasn't my problem. "Everybody has his own bag of rocks to carry," Robert Preston said in some movie I can't recall at the moment. There are people who surround their own thoughts with clouds of negativity in bitter justification for the choices they made earlier in their lives. Look, I'm not that bright and would not at all be surprised to learn that I am "certifiably" insane by a team of experts, but I am at least aware enough to not spend my brief time in this dimension doing shit that makes me miserable out of a fear that I might look silly trying to become the person I would like to someday be.

If you had told me in my early twenties that on this day in 2017 I'd be hosting a successful production show in Las Vegas seven nights a week, assembling my third book, executive producing an innovative web series, and helping a buddy shoot, edit, and create the show deck and sizzle reel for his own original comedy series, I would have said, "Yeah, I'd like to be doing that in 2017, sounds good, I'm in." I also have a beautiful, loving and supportive wife who has no problem with me pursuing all the bat-shit crazy projects I tend to get involved in that sometimes result in good money and other times end up producing dick. She understands my lust for life and penchant for that Vincent Van Gogh style of rabidly creating a piece of art, then throwing it on the bed and running back out to create another before the paint is even dry on the first one, hoping the landlord will accept some of them in lieu of rent money.

One of the films I directed is still available on Netflix, one of my books still gets swapped around on Amazon and Ebay (often for curiously high prices) but I just don't give a shit. I like making the stuff. I don't really have much interest in selling it. I wish there were no such thing as money. I wish we all lived in an economic system where we exchanged goods and services as a way of showing our appreciation for each other and making a more livable environment.

Two years ago I worked for free on a Ted V. Mikels film. Guy was in his eighties, couldn't move around too well, had no money, had to sell off most of his film equipment, and needed a cameraman to shoot some scenes for a film he was determined to finish. It's hard to explain other than to say I just knew where this guy was coming from and I wanted to help him. I know what it's like to have no money but really want to make a movie anyway, and then just decide to make the fucking thing however you can make it and have the time of your life doing it. I loved working on that film. And he ended up putting me in it when, on the set, he decided to add a character and change the direction of a scene. So yeah, I worked on a film with the director of Blood Orgy of the She-Devils, big whoop, wanna fight about it?

I play basketball three times a week now, always outdoors, and after about 45 minutes I usually pause, face whichever direction the breeze is coming from, and take a few deep breaths like Jet Li in Fearless when he's standing in the rice field after his transformation, pulling in the good spirit.

I'm getting closer to the human being I'd like to be. The overall message of the movie Groundhog Day by Harold Ramis is the same message that The Upanishads were talking about at the end of The Vedas - that all things are really one thing and all moments are really just one moment; they're not the same moment but they are all just one single moment.

Who would you like to be in that moment?

Copyright © 2017 John Bizarre

Art

Installing the Mark of the Beast

August 17, 2017

The chump box was tuned to a religious channel, one that keeps the 800 number permanently engraved in the lower left-hand side in case your wallet starts jumpin' around in your pants, lookin' to lighten its load..
..and they were airing an uninterrupted movie starring Max von Sydow as Jesus and Jose Ferrer as..Herod, I think.

Jackpot! Why is there no microwave popcorn in my room? What sort of shoddy, whore-flop hotel is this anyway? A man requires a hearty snack when he's watchin' a Jesus movie. A snack like..pork rinds..and..a bottle o' Moxie! Yes, Moxie, ya prick ya! Moxie is definitely in the snack department. It fuckin' is too, so don't even try to argue your way out of it.

Oh, and those tangy, RedHot pickled beef snaps that you can get at truck stops; those pig dick-looking, heavily vinegared, slaughterhouse "rendering" loafs in a corporate scrotum that you can sometimes find in a Motel 6 vending machine, between the cigarettes and the Band Aids, and when you open it up it squirts pickle juice all over you but you still eat the damn thing, holding it like a baby gripping a hot dog, as you topple over, into the ice machine. Pork rinds, Moxie, beef snaps and Jesus. What a night. I may even have to torch a celebratory fart at midnight and slam into a bedtime snippet from Revelation to top off the evening all proper-like.

So Max von Sydow walks into some tent where these grumpy, bearded dudes in robes are listening to the Grand Poobah of grumpy, bearded dudes in robes, and he's yammerin' on about a vengeful, wrathful god, and Jesus steps forward to take issue with that notion, saying that if you believe in him he can make anything possible, and then to prove it he convinces a crippled man (played by Sal goddamn Mineo, my friend) to stand up and walk using only his love for God. And not only does Sal walk, he skips, he saunters, he does a few steps from Chorus Line, he flips up his skirt, bends over, and does the upside down peekaboo through the legs bit, and then moonwalks out of the tent with a hat and cane, finally settling in Bahrain where the 'creepy dude' laws are a bit looser.

All right, I may have been flipping around the channels there a little but I'm not making this up. You can rent the movie. It's called The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965).

The cast borders on the ridiculous. Charlton Heston as John the Baptist and Roddy McDowell as the reluctantly saved peasant who lifts his head out of the water, looks up at Charlton, and says, "Get your stinking paws off me, you damn dirty Baptist!"

I swear. Look it up on IMDB.com. I ain't bullshittin' ya ass..

The fat guy in a robe who played King Tut in the Batman TV series takes a huge acting risk...and plays another fat guy in a robe who's up to no good. Max von Sydow cures Shelly Winters of something or other at one point, but her acting was so butt-fucking dreadful that I thought I would give her a chance to pull it down a stroke in the next scene while I slipped into the water closet to drop an unholy deuce.

Sidney Portier and Telly Savalas play hard-boiled, seen-it-all, Roman cops with bad attitudes who don't play by the rules, and sometimes have to smack a guy down if he's not gettin' the message, or maybe even take a nightstick to a fella's nards, so's to like redirect his focus and whatnot, and maybe it ain't all by the book and ya can't wrap it up in one of yer fancy bows but damn it, this city's a shit heap and our job is to make it a little more livable so why don't you Jesus jagoffs hit the road and let us boys in blue do our jobs, hah? OK, the show's over folks, step back, keep it movin', nothin' to see here. Criminals on a cross. One of 'em had big ideas. Don't we all. Keep it movin'..

And I know you're not going to believe me but at the very end of the movie John Wayne does a walk-on as a centurion in the Roman Army who has the last word on Jesus, then walks into the sunset with his classic swagger, lighting a cigarette and then flicking the match over his shoulder, landing on the right big toe of a nailed-to-the-cross J-man.

"Ow! Hey, watch it, ya fuck! There's saviors dying over here! I tell ya, I get no respect, no respect at all."

Copyright © 2017 John Bizarre


road doggin' it