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 graying

He had to forgive everyone, or no one. That was the conclusion Shleeps Mvok came to as he starred out a subway window, into a dark landscape occasionally flickering with passing lights...
If I expect to be forgiven for my trespasses . . .I have to offer the same forgiveness to others. Yet, I do not do the kind of shit that lands people in prison.

Sitting beside him, his brother has been silenced by the roar of the train echoing through the mettallic car. Shleeps was not sure how he was supposed to act toward Alvo. His brother had been in prison for the last twenty two years. Caught up in the Rebellion on Targot Lin, he was one of hundreds the government had rounded up.

He was four when Alvo went to jail. His family had suffered for his actions, too. Their father lost his job, started getting harrassed by the government at every turn, until he did what they wanted him to, and took the family off planet.

They had been run out of town, basically. Now he was back. The prison did not release broke criminals without a family sponsor. Someone had to go back. He was chosen. His brothers actions seemed idiotic to him, almost sure to cause mayhem.

They get off at the airport, walk up the stairs into the main concourse, look around the mammoth steel and glass building for signs to their plane. He is looking down at the tickets for the fourth time, comparing the numbers with the neon signs pointing to the different loading zones.
The voice he hears is official. A cop. They are talking to his brother. He looks up to see one of the men holding handcuffs in his hand, the other has a gun aimed at them.
"We're going to put these on right now. You know why."

He is amazed at what he is seeing. He has just spent seven hours going through the process of getting a prisoner out, passing through all the required hoops to be declared legal. "Hey, he is legel. We just came from Daly Prison. They..."
"Yea, we know. You're going to want to come with us, too. Cuff him up."
His heart is pounding, his fears began repeating the letters from him brother when he was in prison -- once you are charged with terrorism, they can do whatever they want to you. The law no longer applies. He had read through them when he found out he was going to make the trip back to their old planet.

Cameramen and reporters film everything.

He looks at his brother and see's him looking down at his stomach.
The cop putting on his cuffs notices, too, and tells Alvo, "It isn't going off. You went through all that shit to have a dud put in your gut, asshole."

Shleeps does not know what the hell they are talking about, but his brother seems to... his face has gone curiously blank.

Seven hours later, he is in much deeper shit than any of his fears. They have just shown him a video of his beaten brother, repeating back whatever his interrogator was telling him to say... like a puppet, he was saying that his brother was in on his plot to blow up the airport. They had also shown him an x-ray of what his brother thought was a bomb sewn into his abdomen.

His brother hadn't want to leave the prison and start a new life, he'd just wanted revenge for what had been done to him, to strike out at his enemy.

He was the victim of a strangers decision. For the moment, at least. He could see why they would interrogate him, but their assumption that he was guilty was maddening to him.
They were acting like he was totally fucked.

"I wasn't really involved." He starts to use the words as a verbal mantra against them, using the same answer everytime they tried to bring up a new angle with him. One of them starts asking about where he was trained to withstand interrogations?

They name off terrorist camps, ask him if he has been to any of them.

Twelve days later, they have still not beaten him, or treated him all that badly. His brother has been shipped back to prison, while he has been housed in a local jail, in his own room, with a Tell Vision. His file has been shipped from home, and a committee has been chosen to rule on his fate. They will not let him go to a regular court, hire his own attorney. He is considered an enemy combatant until MOOK knows otherwise.

He watches the judges deciding his fate on video. They ask him no questions. They stare into their computer screens and read everything they want to know.

He is surprised when they let him go. He is escorted to the plane by five officers, which he thought was ridiculous overkill until he realized how hated he was. As soon as he left the Prison Van, people were yelling, Murderer... Go Home.... Etc... He had no doubt that without the cops, someone would have attacked him.

Alvo was betrayed by every he had thought was his friend. The prison had an active underground, set up in cells that were cut off from the others. They met unknown to even each other. Set up places where they could hear disguised voices through the vents. He was one of the first to set up the meeting. He had to kill three men to the secrecy in plance. Prison to him was a place to spend all of his time planning his next attack. The government was his enemy, and he owed a lot of allegience to fallen comrades. When he first met the radicals who would lead him down his path into a prison cell,
none of them had much of an idea at all that the government would care about their activities. Like most they believed the rhetoric that the voting public could aright any wrong.

Check out all of my blogs by googling my name, John Scott Ridgway

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

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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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