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.


the never ending crusade of Pain

Six fourty five am. Minutes from the everyday glory of the sun rising up out of lake robert mitch (this is what the lake prefers to be called around here). The sky is beginning to glow robins egg blue; on the snow white tundra of the horizon, there are chaotic streaks of contrails from the planes lofting down into o'hare, looking like strokes of orange and red from a wild artist with a barely controlled brush; solemnly I acknowledge the beauty hides the horror, masks the imperceptible, relentless poisening of the air.

I turn away from the window... wish I was truly alone, without these three or four tons of baggage. I grab Ruby Dog's torn and battered racccoon toys and she jumps up alert, smiling, and as always ready to play. I like them party girls.

I use my best english documentary voice to tell her, "The Raccoons were relentless, attacking the third infantry on all sides, stopping only to clean apples and lick their genitalia. After ten days of ruthless insults being tossed across enemy lines, the third infanty finally surrendered, after signing a peace treaty with the Raccoons that contained the all important historical clause promising the raccoons would teach the human soldiers to lick their own genitilia. And thus, the war was ended peacefully as all retired to the latrine to read the articles in penthouse."

I toss the raccoon high over her head, into the bedroom. Ruby Dog's clear blue artic eyes never leave the grey fur, her play prey. She jumps up at the creature as it sails over her head, than swings around and scrambles ala wyle e coyote on the hardwood floors, scratches and struggles until I worry the neighbors are going to hear before she finally catches her stride and zips off full tilt boogie, like the maniac she prefers to be. We play until I forget the earth is dying again for awhile.

Below freezing. 50 mile back up on some highway.... thank dog I can surf anywhere I really need to go.

The bums and oldsters freeze less from the northern wind than the cold coming off our hearts. Outdoor wild cats are no more, today (they don't have nine lives, but they do have a nine month life expentency on the streets -- which is better than a lot of evolved apes).

M looks at me like she wonders if I am still nuts, warns me to be careful, and then she's out the door, on the way to the train. I commute myself a few feet, into the red and black demon who spews my words out to you; I consider various fashions before going with the shorts I have been wearing for the last few days, and the grey sweater that I'v been only wearing off and on since... like tuesday?.

That demon name for the computer's shell would strike this fundamentalist friend, Tim Hickey, as a sign that 'a friend of the devil is a friend of mine.'* Well, since as far as I know there are no demons, and conversly am just as convinced that there are friends, I think maybe I got what the Dead meant better than Tim; I didn't have the unatural mental fences of a religion to keep my mind trapped on the earth praying and seeking my rewards.

Hicky must have been a fun name in school... did he use the double entendre to pick up chicks? Get a hicky from hicky? Maybe once when he was drunk and acting stupid, and he would revisit that gloomy moment for the rest of his life.... that is what good men do. Poet BRain surgeon rich man of u of c protestor builder of nursery homes who got all sliced up trying to help someone else who was getting all sliced up and wanted to tell the story but thought it sounded like bragging...

IN Josh Wheadon's world there are good even great demons out there; mythic, mindblowing and mind blown
creatures that just can't
or won't
live up to the legend
of their fangs and claws.

What happened to Angel and Spike and Gun and Buffy
and that blue haired little god with the hots everything
when they charged into the face of overwhelming odds

Guess that's just what you do
When The Order Comes Down

*I know this is silly to some who find no place for digressions like this in poetry related literature, but I am committed to footnotes for the sake of the youngin's; this line is Grateful Dead.

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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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