Red Freedom Blood for Red Freedom Dust.

Hello, hello......

How is it four in the morning? What the hell happened to my day and more importantly why am I not in bed? I do not know, but on the other hand who cares! Today is a day that needs to be celebrated, it is a day unlike none other. Today is the first annual celebration of peace between Mars and Earth. Up until last year on this date, the red planet and us engaged in a two decade long spurt where nothing but violence prevailed. We, on Earth, lost many good men, but more so we lost many good robots. I mean a man is a man... but robots cost a lot of money to produce. It is hard to say exactly how many robots we lost, but if I had to venture a guess.... I would say somewhere between 1,675,000 and 1,680,000. Just a rough estimate, however. Anyway, it is really time for me to get to bed. I would not want to miss such an anticipated celebration!

red dust... up in my face...
I inhale it.... it makes me cough...
I swallow it... it makes me giggle...
I love it... it makes me bleed...
Bleed red, white and blue...
Bleed freedom!!

Long Live King Victor!

A man named Victor lived not so long ago, in a forest that was not much of a forest at all. You see, there were far more rocks in this forest than there were trees. I guess it is kind of the same idea as a rock garden, low maintenance, bad for burning though. Victor did not even know what fire was until one day he wondered from his natural habitat to find a city sitting just beyond his rock heaven. The city was called Flack and was not very large, however, to Victor the city contained more scurrying individuals than he had seen in his lifetime. Victor ran from the edge of the forest, club in hand and one by one bludgeoned all of the villagers to death. It is hard to justify this action of Victor’s, but then again what use could the villagers be to him? He had lived by himself all of his life, simply taking one day at a time. It was a simple case of budgeting, he used all he needed and destroyed all that threatened his needs. Victor needed supplies which is why he left his forest home in the first place. Once he found the village the villagers were a threat to him as he needed their supplies. Was Victor justified in killing them all? Could he possibly have achieved his goals in another fashion? Well of course he could but what fun would that be? Victor blindly (since all the villagers were dead) robbed the city granary and then one by one, he went house to house taking anything he deemed as useful. He vanished from the city without a trace leaving behind only a sign that read "Don't fuck with Victor."

The next day Victor awoke with enough supplies to keep him functioning for the next month. He had grains, he had dried fruits, he had ten axes, a shotgun and 8 packs of ammunition. He walked out of his small stone domicile to find himself to be a wanted man, the authorities were patrolling the rocky terrain looking for any trace of life. Victor did not know how to respond, he reached for his shotgun, loaded it and prepared for a stand. The problem was that Victor had never fired a gun, so he did not have a clue how it worked. It was a miracle that he even got it loaded in the first place. He took the loaded shotgun, and pushed the trigger with his big toe. Victor was dead, he had shot himself in the head. Apparently the shells are propelled out the small end of the gun and not the large one. Who would have known? Not Victor. It's ok though, this event was a simple matter of Darwinism, survival of the fittest. Since Victor did not know how to use a gun, he was weak and not useful to society. We are all better off that he is dead, because what good is someone if they can not kill another? I mean great civilization in history have achieved their power through the blood of others. Do you think that they won this power with a bunch of incompetent peace-loving morons? Hell no they didn't. They were all killing machines, a loaded gun if you will.

The local authorities marched upon Victor's decapitated body. They planted two signs over his dead body, Victors and one of their own design. Anyone who stumbled upon this atrocity would find a headless body marked only by the phrases “Don’t fuck with Victor” and “Long live King Victor.” The authorities made their point.

Long live King Victor!

Grasping onto thin air only to fall into the unkown.

If you look at a picture, what does it tell you? Well I guess this could depend on the picture. Right now I am looking at a picture of an elf squashing a beetle. I find this interesting, an elf caught in the act of destroying the life of another living creature, but why? Is the beetle a threat to the elf? Or is it far more likely that the beetle is a threat to the elf’s comfort, that the beetle was buzzing too close to the elf’s head or had taken a bite of the old cheese wheel on the counter. Is it alright to destroy life to ensure your own comfort, or is this only true when discomfort is felt by the far more powerful creature? When does one living creature have the right to destroy another, and furthermore how is this decided? It is funny how people claim that it is not right to “play God.” “One human should not be able to take the life away from another, because they ‘are not God’ and they can not create life, so they should not be able to end it.” This is funny to me, because if it wasn’t for people playing God in the first place there would not be a God. History has proven time and time again human beings are selfish, that one human being will do whatever he can in order to achieve his specific agenda. This is not to say humans are evil, that they are trying to destroy each other or the Earth. There are simply side effects to our ignorance. The funniest part about human ignorance is our own perception of it. Some of the most ignorant people on our planet are the ones who see themselves as the most educated. These people are ignorant because they sit behind facts and figures, books and documents, thinking that they have all the answers. That they can somehow surmise an solution to all of life’s problems with scientific reasoning, this is ignorant. Why? Because humans are not reasonable. Even the most “enlightened” individuals suffer from their own human error, maybe even more so because they, themselves, do not see it. The most ignorant people on our planet are those that think they have found the truth. Do not get me wrong, I think it is very important to be constantly searching for the truth, but I grow weary of those who are content, those who feel their God, or their superiors or their reason has all the answers. It is these people who are so blind by their own contentment that they will do anything to secure it, they would do anything to secure their comfort. I no longer see an elf killing a beetle, but instead I see the gigantic hand of the powerful, squashing the hopes of the weak. We have all played both the role of the elf and the role of the beetle, but yet we still can not seem to find a compromise, a solution that allows us all to coexist. This picture has told me that the only black and white on this earth is life and death, you are either alive or you are not. You can not claim to value life in one situation but then completely disregard it in another. Life is life and death is death, no one knows the meaning of life and no one has a cure for death. Live long, live happily, but live far, far away from me.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

Into the unknown Humpty fell for he was not prepared to deal with what lay below his comfortable wall. When Humpty hit the ground he broke into hundreds of pieces which could not be put back together. What was once a powerful and influential individual now laid all alone and broken in a world he did not even know existed. Those who he thought were his friends abandoned him now that he had lost his influence. His false sense of importance shattered into more pieces than he physical being. Poor Humpty Dumpty would never be complete again, all because he never heard of stairs. Do not hang on to the known, instead be willing to embrace change, to embrace yourself and all your surroundings.

Good Night!

Hello to all. This will be a short post because again I am tired. I have nothing to say at all, but then again the only time I seem to say anything is when I have nothing to say. Anyway.... it is time for me to go to bed, good night.

There was once a man named Lucky.

I am sorry that I have been absent for a week. I see that I missed the bulk of the heated terrorism debate that can be viewed through my links (Scott, Lloyd, and Mike). The debate was good, and it is always interesting to read the thoughts and ideologies of some of my friends. Furthermore, I feel that the best way to learn anything worth learning is to read a heated discussion between two or more people educated on the subject. Only then can one actually understand the practical and realistic applications and the uses of a philosophy. Ok, enough of the serious stuff. I do not have a lot to say, and am in fact very tired at the present moment. I took some NyQuil maybe an hour ago and my bed is looking like a big fluffy coffin that I definitely wouldn't mind dying in for the next few hours. With that being said, here goes nothing, and (most likely)..... here comes nothing.

Hello, it is the morning of July 21st, and it is two thousand and five years after Christ. I don't have anything useful to say, but then again when have I ever? I make guns, but not any guns, guns that are used to hunt insects. They are tiny guns and are hardly big enough for the human eye to detect, or at least distinguish as guns. They truly look much like a small hair, the bullets they propel no larger than a single cell. Some have claimed that the guns I make are not important, that they are in no way contributing to the advancement or the destruction of society. It is said that everything worth having either adds are hinders civilization, culture, us. I disagree and feel that there is much of a practical use for my guns. Insects are one of the few remaining creatures that are yet to be hunted with guns. We have devised many other ways of bringing upon their demise, however they remain truly unique in that they rarely die at the mercy of a steel tube designed for only one purpose, to vomit out lead balls as fast and as hard as possible. This is not a statement to advocate the use of guns nor is it a sarcastic rebuttal calling for the disarmament of society. It is instead justice, fair is fair and insects have been denied this one truly American right. This, of course, is the right to shoot and the right to be shot. Guns have been, are, and will be an integrated part of our culture. America and her brave inhabitants secretly (at times) have had a love affair with firearms since the first Europeans stepped off their sea vessel onto American soil. They brought guns from home and soon found out that their guns were much more successful against people without guns than they were against armed foes. You see, the first guns were largely inaccurate and it was anyone’s guess as to whether or not one would even come close to his target (usually not) but now these brave Europeans could fire a shot, reload, fire another shot, reload and on and on until they hit their target. What a feeling it must have been to hold others at their mercy, to play the role of God, to step into a foreign land and proclaim it theirs. After all, they could do what ever they wanted because they knew that history had been, was and always would be recorded and maintained by those in power and right then they were in power, so they could do what they wanted, who was going to stop them?

Insects are very similar. As human beings we assume that their only purpose for existence is to pester us, to make our lives miserable. Insects in fact are very territorial, as are most life forms on our grand planet. To insects, human beings are no more useful than any other animal, which prances from one meal to the next, we are food. Human beings falsely believe that they own the Earth, that the Earth and her resources are for no one except us. We fight over boarders, and ideas as if they are something important. We pride ourselves on our intelligence but rather than using it to fulfill our basic needs more adequately and efficiently, we instead create better ways to make other human beings less happy and more miserable. Lets be frank, in reality, insects need guns about as much as they need silverware to consume their next meal. On the other hand, however, Earth needs humanity about as much as she needs a credit card or oil drills sucking out her precious blood.

As human beings we constantly pin importance on things that we have falsely given importance to. We are afraid, petrified even of all kinds of things and very few them actually pose a threat to our survival which is ultimately our purpose (and every other living organism for that matter) for being here. One may consider me and the guns I produce for my insect friends and absolute absurdity, but until the rest of the human race ceases to be destructively absurd, I will continue in my course of action. A course that might be absurd, but which is threatening no one or nothing else, which is more than one can say about most absurdities. Godspeed Spiderman!

The itsy bitsy Spider climbed up the water spout.
Down came the rain and washed the spider out.

So it goes

The face of a genius, the style of a blind man and the beard of an indolent adolescent.  

Well hello....

So at ten o'clock in the AM on the morning of July 13th I was assaulted by a man dressed in white. He proceeded to rip my tooth and part of my jaw out of my face, laughing and joking throughout the whole ordeal. What was the worst part of this traumatizing experience? I am going to get billed for it! The man dressed in white was my dentist and the tooth he ripped from my face was my left wisdom tooth and I'm sure it hurt like hell, it's a good thing they drugged the hell out of me. So now I sit, strung out for the last 13 hours on Advil, Aleve, caffeine and Vicodin and I must say that I feel like a million dollars. I didn't need that tooth anyway, it just got in the way of my ideas, and yes my ideas frequently travel through my jaw. How the hell else are they supposed to get out of my mouth? I suppose they could go through my throat, but that is usually inhabited by my thought provokers which usually are in the form of liquid motivation. I do not really know what to say, nor do I have anything that is really worth saying. The pile of books on my floor has reached an all-time high, I love reading, and I have so many books I want to read. I wish that I could clone myself so that I could just sit up here reading and doing things that I enjoy. I could make my clone do everything else, things like work, school work, and run my underground prostitution ring. It strikes me as slightly depressing how we spend most of our lives doing things that we don't want to do, and things that won't make us a better person, or a more capable friend, employee or lover. So as for me, I am going to do everything in my power to stay out of pointless work, which as classified by the great "Stange" is about 99% of all work. No work and all play makes for a truly wonderful day. Anyway, it is time to go take some more Vicodin, a swig of NyQuil and then to read until the Sandman comes and knocks me over the head with a 25 pound purple dildo, what a sick prick.

This is me in my glory days. See Adam run, see Adam jump, Adam is nimble is quick, poor Adam sodomized himself on a candle stick. 

True Words of a Tongueless Communist

Hello, it is interesting to see that my rambling from Friday night has been read more than any other posts since I put up my new stat counter. Do my readers prefer that I stick to incomprehensible bullshit, would they rather read misspelled or made up words? The only conclusion that I can surmise is that my readers are a bunch of drunken third graders. Are you a part of some anti-drug education? Is it a school project to view my site as a way of understanding the downfalls of drug use? Whatever the reason is, welcome to my small but loyal reader base. On this site you will find vague but clever anecdotes about a man who was born in communist Russia. I speak only in gibberish and my friend Clifford translates and types all that I have to say. You see, I was born without a tounge, and a communist without a tongue is about as useful as a blind sniper. So by the age of five I was banished from my utopian birthplace to a hell on earth, England. I spent most of my childhood in London where I learned how to mend the soles of shoes, later I would join a monastery and mend the souls of humanity. Anyway, my life is rather uneventful so I turn to my saxophone which I bought off of a gipsy in Prague shortly after WWII. Since then I have moved to Minnesota where I play saxophone and woo women. Nothing is more sensual than a tongueless Russian playing saxophone. Off I go to drink some brew and play my horn. Oh horn, how I do love thee.

Fear not loyal readers for I am alive and well! I must now go back between my warm covers and sleep for just a bit more!

I am tired!

It is 3:10 in the morning and I am tired! Tired am I, am I am tired, am you are fatigue am I am gone!

GOne.

GoNe.

GonE.

GONe.

GOnE.

Gone.

GONE.

GOMMMMNe..

GomNeE.

GommnEnEnEnEnEnEnEnE.

GonmEnme n.

Gonmenime.mne.

Gmnionmneomnenmne.

Gmonemnemnemenmenmmmmmmnemne.

Gone am I, am I am GonE!

I am that man.

Here I am, Mr. Adam Michael Stange, a man of 21 years of age, a man with purpose and a man with beer. Some might say that the beer could possibly be my purpose but I say "no!" I say that my purpose is far larger than anything that could be imprisoned in a twelve ounce can. "What is this great purpose?" one might ask. Well that is a good question, and I commend you on your vigor. What my purpose is, however is not important. Instead we must search for truth for in truth is purpose and the purpose of truth is understanding. So here I am, in my small log domicile in the wilderness that is known as Minnesota. I brew my own beer and eat only what I kill with my bare hands. In this is truth, a truth that is called independence which is a lost philosophy in this great nation of ours. No one preaches independence anymore, instead everyone is dependent on everyone else and I am dependent on beer, beer that is brewed by Adam Michael Stange, I am that man!

Hi Ho.