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 Strange And Twisted Tale of Moonbong Haze

The sordid life of our cliche stoner has of late taken it's toll. The wayward journey of our young protagonist, the unrepentingdled drugged out, and generally over-dosing somewhat, Moon Bong haze, has left him living in a metal shed, in the middle of a Chicago summer, abondened by his family (he couldn't blame though, they had a much better offer and even his limited intelligence battered by the best of drugs, knew that he would have done the same in their place).

Moonbong Haze was fired from Fearless Radio almost a year before, and the family weed business went to hell after his mother and brother split with the aliens. He had to scrounge for food even back then, though, so he was used to it... he had grown up in a house where his mother was an excellent meth cook, though nothing else inspired her to go into the kitchen. Even when he had the radio show, the only actual pay he got was the owner letting him sleep in the doorway on particular cold nights and an endless supply of coffee -- as long as him and his brother always brought the weed. The Haze brothers felt like they had won the lotto.

No one had ever given them much of a reason to hang around anywhere, let alone paid them for the service. They were used to people being nice to them until they had their drugs, then running them off with sticks. There was good reason people didn't want to be around the Haze's in general, and back then, you seldom found Moonbong without his brother Woodstock. A dangerous duo, to say the least. His younger brother travels well armed and is prone toward firing surface to air missiles at passing planes for target practice, has a habit of laying out IED's all over their apartment while too drunk to remember how to pull out his dick to piss, let alone make sure that none of the bombs blow up his brother, his friends, himself. The immortality of the Haze brothers is kind of a given, of course. They were bred in a lab, from a cartoon road runner, a whily coyote, and an old eight track by Cheeks and Chong, though they had no idea about any of that.

Moon Bong Drives everywhere too stoned to see through the windsheild, relying on minor accidents to stop him instead of harshing his buzz by getting the brakes fixed. He believes that if he is lucky, he can just start the car, put it in gear, put a rock on the accelerator and close his eyes... and the car will drive itself. He tries this two or three times before he will actually admit he has no luck and will have to steer... some.

He tires to earn money through various capatilist adventures that come to him when he is very stoned and make sense only as long as he can remain very stoned and keep everyone around him stoned.

He actually did have quite a little business during the radio show, the infamous Gerbongs, a cadre of air tank wearing rodents who he had spent years training to clean bongs. They had there own song, and an avid following until it was discovered that the gerbils often drowned and clogged the bong up into such a mess that they were best thrown away. After that was a cat cleaning service, which he learned by spending an afternoon on mushrooms watching a cat with kittens. Again, at first people were willing to hire him, for ridiculously low amounts-- what have I got to lose prices of fifty cents. Soon enough Moonbong was hacking up softball sized furballs, and snorting ounces of cat nip just to get out of his litter box in the morning (he had a confusing notion that the cats slept in the box because they too,like him, had chronic bed wetting issues).

Moonbong is also known for having a penis minute enough to make a strong case for some kind sexual reconstructive surgery.

The Haze family included Mama Haze, Woodstock, and Moonbong. The mother has gang bangs that required specially made cum shovels to clean up afterward. The boys were disgusted by the duty, but since their mother controls their drug supply, they feel they have little choice except to go along with her.

Picking up with Moonbong now, his mother and brother have abondoned him, after being offered an invitation to an intergalactic orgy, which Moonbong, while originally invited, was soon enough kicked out because of basic worthlessness at any attribute another human wants in a sex partner... which brings us to beastiality, the farm boys right hand. Moonbong is just the right size for mating with rodents. I will not go too far into this since I am writing about Moonbong for the weekly bulliten at a senior citizens home (at least, that is my target audience... keep your fingers crossed); suffice to say he started out wrestling gerbils on the boardwalk for tips, which he took very seriously despite the size differences, and was indeed badly mawled a few times before ultimatly falling for a fair maiden who dropped, by her tail, into his life one otherwise ordinary, for him.... day.

His choice of drugs and lifestyles is not for the faint of hearted. Or actually anyone who wants to keep their heart beating. He has overdosed daily, when possible, since discovering drugs, in his mothers womb, at Woodstock.

Among his actual enemies (he makes up most of them), is the original artist in black standing sullen in the back, Johnny Pain. JP is an old rogue spy from a family of serial killers who do just enough hits for the intelligence angncies and cops to be left alone, mostly. He is a much older, lonelier, more perverse and wasted version of the Johnny Pain he makes out like he is in his blogs. He gets pissed off occasionally and goes on killing spree's for causes, but mostly he is just kind of a boof in most respects. His violence helped the crew at the Radio Show take over the world at one point -- a feat he acheived accidently, on a lark... though he was too embarrassed to own up to that, so he made a few changes for the better in the world and then went back to his house, which has every window covered in black trash bags, where he has stayed for the last three months, living on daily deliveries of smokes, booze, drugs, and, when at all possible, siamese twin prostitutes,or people who will agree to be sewn together for a few bucks.

He is also the only one who will give Moonbong a place to stay. He does so simply because he has felt that sooner or later he was going to kill that damn pseudo-hippy stoner and he didn't want to wast time looking for him when the mood came.

Moonbong is very wary of Johnny Pain, who at one point cut off all of his fingers and had him tortured for a few months purely because he could. If not for the roof over his head... the metal shed where he kept his bong and sleeping bag... he woud not have actually risked his life by coming anywhere near Johnny Pain. Pain has a huge crop of weed growing in his backyard, so always let a stoner or two sleep in the garage for security purposes. They also came in handy if he needed to frame someone for a murder -- which was indeed one of his hobbies, along with taxidermy -- he specialized in fetuses, corning the nitche market with hard care pro-lifers..

Ugh.... these characters are repulsive... an attempt at comedic thought to clear these damn poems out of my head.

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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