A blood soaked Arthur IS RISING

Gonzo journalism and fiction is a tricky mix.... Welcome to my razor's edge.


I am an elf in the attic making mind toys with sharp edges; an educated writer who gets good reviews, who you can read for free in the rough form of first drafts on the web, or purchase in a book form.
The best soldier does not attack. The superior fighter succeeds without violence. The greatest conqueror wins without struggle. The most successful manager leads without dictating. This is intelligent non aggressiveness. This is called the mastery of men.


Welcome to you, I am John Scott Ridgway, Novelist, Poet, Blogger, Radio and TV writer and actor... five books, also paint in oils and acrylics. I am poet warrior of sorts, a non violent radical, personally, though understanding of those who choose other paths IN THE EIGHTY PLUS COUNTRIES AT LAST COUNT THAT came in this blog ...

The predicted revolutions in the USA and around the would are going to

be violent in the next twenty years, is what the CIA says. I want them to stay peaceful, which is the only way to win this struggle between haves and have nots. They have more guns, we have more people,, and they include the mothers and sisters and brothers of the people they will ask to fight us.... I think they underestimate the police.

NEVER ACCEPT APPEASEMENT OVER JUSTICE. By any means necessary is the reality. . . the USA can be spared stupid wars, but other countries. . . need different solutions. . .

The number of Countries that have come in to have a look at this blog humbles me. Thank you very much.



PROFESSIONALS, HOPEFULLY, like the police, military, etc...

understanding that violence is sometimes needed

does not mean I like anything about the sound

of fists hitting faces

Boxing is too much for me

make me feel like I am watching

dog fights with toothless pitbulls

"I am an artist first, and a politician second," as John Lennon said.

My intentions are to stop the violence from entering into

revolutionary wars

the CIA


will break out in the next twenty years all over the

world, including here...

But Ill tell ya,

if there is not some redistribution of

wealth here there and everywhere




My intentions is to keep these protests peaceful

so we can win

without bloodshed

Total War for Total Peace

Never incites violence

or destroys property

you should be able

to go to protests with strollers and babies

parents feeling as safe as the police

Now, poetry...

I am too far out into the battlefield to retreat. This CHARGE is win or die...


A blood soaked Arthur has risen

be aware

be very aware

total war
for total peace
is being fought

THERE will be many ways to die
and only one to live
give and give and give
until the worlds downtrodden and oppressed
can begin to forgive
before things get bloody and ruthless
My Peace sign shot full of holes
and my reason ignored
drowned out by the roar of machine guns

You cannot break the golden rule
all the time and not expect
consequences from nature

we will fight for our right to thrive as well
we do not accept your sentence
to poverty so you can earn more
by shipping the factory off to China

nothing this mindgame in america can do to us
can destroy this thing inside that yearns for freedom
enough to die in the name of JUSTICE
generation after generation
from time

No more hyper-reality FOR US. We have already spent too long in an oasis of belief where nothing is wrong, folks... Now, we must face this was all a mirage... and try like hell to get out of this desert... or resolve ourself to the fact that we will leave our children to starve in the barren sands.

There are better ways to defeat an enemy than an outright fight, especially if you are vastly outnumbered, like the Elite. MSM PSY-WAR allows them to control our actions through our thoughts, and basically stop our FORCE from activating. I am not saying we should fight just because we can win, I am just saying we should fight before we lose, if no other option is left us.... because a world is at stake.

  • You are a spark in dry timber, stopped from becoming a roaring flame
    They SET UP LAWS THAT ALLOW THEM TO STEAL. MURDER. BRAINWASH THEIR CRITICS. We must begin to feel challenged now to stop them. Or WE WILL LOSE EVERYTHING. PERIOD. THE SKY, OTHER SPECIES, OUR WATER... OUR MINDS. No more hyper-reality for us... too long in that oasis where nothing is wrong folks... we must face this is all a mirage.
    • OUR LACK OF RESOLVE TO CHANGE OUR WORLD MUST PUZZLE THE GODS THEMSELVES.... how can we be this collectively dum? And if we are....then the brains will be looked to as potential saviors.... when all too often they are just psocyo-paths and stooges and scared folks under the gun who are ALLOWED to CON EVERYONE... FOR THE GOOD OF A

A cruel slap woke me to the PAIN
at the moment of birth;
My first cry was NO
buried in unintelligible screams.
I am a man now.
Now I catch your hand and break all the fingers.

the promise

You must be whoever the enemy fears the least
or fears the most.

No other position is saf

da general

Welcome to the spark that inflames TOTAL WAR FOR TOTAL PEACE.

I am too far out into the battlefield to retreat. This CHARGE is win or die...

THE ELVES ATTIC is stories, poetry, essay's, peculiar events in my life . . . oil painting, articles.

Your patience for bearing with me on my first drafts is a much appreciated kindness. Your worldwide interest is my muse . . .Lately I have been writing a book called Gangsta General x, about a revolutionary in the USA, who is fighting to keep the revolt peaceful as things spin out of control in the states after a famine gets the populace hungry enough to change their society once and for all....

HOW TO USE THIS BLOG: There is a black and white jukebox in the right column that you can shut off, or find songs on.... To listen to the COMEDY SKITS FROM THE SHOW PEACE AND PIPEDREAMS... turn off the black jukebox, and turn on the Green one. I play Moon Bong Haze and Jesus...

I have five majors, five books, two tv shows, a radio show, 76 countries at last count on this site alone, and over a million online readers to my credit. I can't thank any of you enough for all of your help and encouragement over the years; the favors and aide that has been offered me, the trust in my leadership... you are all SACRED TO ME ... even you folks I tend to hate.


Thank you.



Dr. Helber came from a long line of slightly whacked out inventors; men and women who were geniuses in arcane manners altogether different than playing baseball or having spouses. Professors and hermit writers mostly, with the occasional sensational madmen and drunks.

As a child looking over one of his family gatherings, it had seemed to him that only the children were sane and at least nominally average in their socialization (he was always having thoughts like that, even as a child). Hank Helber had thought he would be different. In the first rebelllions of his youth, when the hypocrisy of the world was almost too much to bear, he had promised himself that he would never fall in love with the idea of something that only a few people on the earth would care about.... like his uncles who only really came alive when they were discussing their fields of study. The older they got the less they noticed things like wearing socks and brushing their teeth. A lot of the women were on anti depressents.

His family tree was full of people who climbed so high that only a couple other humans on the planet could follow them. He despised them until he was 20 and getting his masters degree, and realizing that there was no way he wanted to spend the rest of his life supporting himself dealing weed and living to surf. Economic realities forced him to leave hawaii, quit smoking weed and surfing, and start working at one of his uncles labs. His moving advance was more money than he had made in his entire life.

The huge salary stole his soul. Within six months he developed needs that he didn't even know existed when he was poor. A bidet that he could no more go without than deoderant, his shirts had to be perfectly fitted... pants had to be creased --he would have once rolled up the legs
and ignored whatever little kasnivel that was wrong with them purely to make his usual second hand purchase.

Now, here he was, finishing up twenty years of work in his own lab, after aprenticing for another ten with other top scientists in the fields related to his field of study -- inserting vocal capabilities into otherwise dumb animals, so that they could express their wills, and thus have more say in the affairs of the earth. Once long ago when the juices of youth were spurting out of his every pore he had believed that he could really help the world, save a few species from extinction.
He was pretty sure that he had.

In his biography, he wrote:

'As my lights up stairs dim and some go out entirely, I suppose that now is the time to tell the darker side of my experiments. That which is too embarrassing for me to allow to come out within 100 years of being alive. I drew up a contract based on the one Mark Twain used to keep his darker poet from effecting those he loved.

I want to tell the tale of Buk, most controversial of historic figures. As a revolutionary leader, his image has been mythologized so much that sometimes I barely recognize the cat that was, the real feline who lived. He didn't say a lot of course, but what he did has become something of the mantra of our critics,

After the surgeries and the nanotechs increasing his language abilities and the thousands of hours of being read to and lectured and all the other little surgical nuances that it took to insert the proper vocal cords in his furry throat, after giving us no indication that he could utter a sound for three months, Buk suddenly looked up at me and said, in a voice clear and modulated to perfection, "That you think you have done me a favor shows me that you are truly lost."'

He died then of course. Well, he might as well have. He wouldn't speak, eat. Withered away."

As he read over the first page of his biography, he thought, 'I kept doing the research, even after that. SO maybe this is when I lost my soul?'

For twenties years, his experiments never really got any better results. Thinking back over this, he realizes that he is kidding himself if he thinks he can take the mental pain of writing his biography... He had somehow thought he could find a little bit of redemption by offering a cautionary tale to others. The concept never really had a chance to get off the ground.

Later that afternoon, his car seemingly missed an exit off the Kennedy Expressway and slammed into a huge concrete post, tearing him into four distinct piles of flesh. His last thoughts took place in the pile where most of his brains were. He was aware of a fire waging around him and
had a feeling that there was a hell... and indeed, seconds later, from far off at first and then getting closer and closer, is a horrifying laugh that could only come from Satan.

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one of my very sorry little attempts to show my oil paintings, pets, girl...

a new mural in rodgers park... and picking up poo and sniffing pee

m and i take a trip down to the bean sculpture... here in Chicago...

Click on the side of the videos and it should take you to utube, where you can view the entire video.

Ruby dog fights the mighty dash... click on video to watch at utube

Thank YOU for over a half million hits at my various sites ... new counter.

one war

The collected john scott ridgway

The collected john scott ridgway
a demented little entry into philosophy, humour and redemption.,

the elves attic

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