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 Great Meth Wars.... Rises Again

Hey... below you will find a character who comes from the great meth wars... which are in here somewhere. A disgusting story about a bunch of meth heads in a trailer park, one of whom is Boner, a gay prophet of sorts/and a big whore. He started a gay cult based on the teachings of Gilford Tuttle, who preaches often of the Huge Balls of Jock Jesus, who he wants to replace what he calls the 'long haired Jewish Jesus.' Boner also was the one who Keistered a batch of meth, which then got the smell of his ass, and became known as White Ass, and was quite popular with gay truckers, who were the first to follow Boner's religion. The writer is Skeeter, who relates what is happening with him and his two brothers. The third of which is Eugene, who is mentally handicapped and ends up whimpering a lot over the antics of his siblings.... our story takes place just after the brothers have been released from prison, after blowing up half of the trailer park while making meth. They have been in jail for five years. All of them have spent a lot of time in the slammer in their day, and found their own ways to deal. Boner of course just Bitched his way through. Skeeter played a lot of cards and kept to himself. Eugene rather reluctantly bitched occasionally, at first, then went into protective custody for the last two years, where while he could seldom leave his cell, he at least did not have to worry about having a leaky asshole, like Boner.

This is not a pretty story, by the way... of you are easily offended, please, go to my poetry where at least you can be offended by my ideas, rather than the gross depths I will go to for my own amusement... and those few eclectic souls who are demented enough to come along (thank you Bob).

Skeeter Skeeter Davis, once more writing about the Great Meth Wars. As most of my readers know -- thank you Aunt Elen and Uncle Roger and Billy Robbie, my target audience, we recently have been guests of the great state of Indiana, as you all know, after a small explosion blew up the Waterloo Trailer Park Emporium... at least the Northside, which made those damn southsiders feel all the more superior. The Insurance from the Trailer Park covered the damages, which surprised the hell out of me. I wished I'd a known I was insured, because I sure as hell would have bragged on that. Imagine, me insured? Well, I'm not anymore of course.

Speaking of Insurance, I of course never had me no health insurance, except in prison. I am going to keep my health up though, unlike most meth heads... and because I have a doctor so caring, he gives people free appointments. You only have to pay if you're sick. That's the way they do it in Mexico, where he has a license to practice medicene and all, but here in America, he is kind of an outlaw doctor. He basically does surgeries in his basement. It is all set up nice and shit. And he lets you lay on a couch, instead of those damn hard gurneys they have at regular hospitals -- he told me that is how much he cares, and I believe him. Hope he doesn't find anything else wrong when I go in for my next check up. He always seems to have some reason to do a surgery. It's crazy. Like I said, most Most meth heads won't even go near a doctor, so I am all proud of the fact that I have had eight surgeries. Hell, like the Doc said, having that many surgeries is like doing exercise and eating right all rolled into one.

So, we're here in our new trailer. No furniture or nothing. But it is nice and new. I know the cleanliness won't last, and the meth fumes will yellow the walls when we cook up the next batch, and all... still, it looks awful white and shiny. Me and Boner and Eugene been out all day going to stores buying the legal ass limits of allergy pills to cook us up a batch of White Ass. We gots to make some money, man. They sent us out of lock up with ten bucks apeice. Boner got five hundred from the guy he was bitching for, and like Boner said, if that ain't true love, he doesn't know what the hell is. I thought so too at first, until I heard that Boner was buying five hundred dollars worth of smokes to send to the guy -- they would be worth a lot more inside. They used to sell cigarettes inside, and Boner often keistered over fifty packs at a time for this dude. Still I ain't gonna say nothing to Boner, because he is telling everyone, "Hey, see this ass... it is worth five hundred bucks, even without no cigarettes in it." I think in his heart he knows.

Carl, the cat that Boner turned gay by using a recipe he learned from the most wicked, despicable character that he ever bitched for in prison, Crazy George Bush, they called him... because of his Texas accent and he was kinda slow, like the president. ... well, Carl he was none too happy to see Boner getting all excited about his Bitcher... though he knew it was going to happen when Boner went into lockup again. He had his usual hissy fit, but it was obvious that they were too happy to see each other for that to matter. Soon enough, Carl was in back howling and Boner was grunting and Eugene started having flashback to his bootie calls in prison and crying and hollering and pissing himself, as he does whenever he gets all stressed. Then came the spastic diarreah, which dripped all down his legs and got on the new carpet and all. We don't ever clean, so that is kind of permanent. I gotta get me some incense.

The diarreah smell is why I decided to come down to the trailer park's rec center, where they have the internet, and get back to my blogging. I should also add, that if any cops are reading this, I am writing fictional stories about guys who make meth and I in no way will ever do that again. I served my time, and learned my lesson well.

Now that this is clear, let me say that the new batch of White Ass will be coming out in the morning, because we will be cooking all night. So, bring the kids down tommorrow sfor a snorting good time. We guarantee, also, that we will not fall asleep again while making meth and blow up the trailer park again. I know we said this a few times before, but this time we mean it. If we are awake more than three weeks, we will not make meth... until we get some sleep. I promise this time.

I guess I should also address all the people in the trailer park who have been a talking us down. I mean you Woodcocks of course. I know you think you are so fancy on the Northside of the trailer Park, and perhaps you were raised on Jeopardy and we only got Jerry Springer, but still... well, yes, we know you are smarter and all. Still, we got our pride over here. And we do not need you fancy, smancy Woodcocks going around saying that Boner's but is filled with so many diseases that no one should snort meth that has been keistered by him. Keistering is perfectly safe. They have all been to prison and know this. Hell, Margie, their so called Mom, was known for the old double keister on her cell block, and Boner could still hold more smokes... so there. I mean it -- so there. Anyways, yes I cannot try to tell anyone that Boner does not have anal diseases. Everyone around here has seen his anus when he popped out a bag for them behind the 7-`11, and know he is diseased in certain ways, with numerous bleeding sores and such, at times... however, none of this is meth transferable. Now, I would not recommend putting your arm in Boner, as been done many, many times before, because I have seen men who fisted him with sores all up and down their arms (and I wish Boner would stop requesting this service but there is no stopping him from hopping on a fist).

Much Later...It is seven o clock in the morning. The White Ass is finished now and I am tweek tweek tweeking around the place. Figured I better come down here. Boner and Carl have been going at it all night and Eugene finally just started listening to a walk man all the time. That was much nicer than the spastic diarreah he developed at first. He has a very sensitve anus, as he tried to tell everyone in prison, and I think some guys got it all turned around, and Eugene sure learned a good lesson when that guy said that he had never seen a sensitive anus, and Eugene showed him and... well, you know the rest... the guy hopped on and popped a wad.

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

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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...

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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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