Criminal Styles and Strategies

“_  ___  __  ________ .”

The line above is, anyhow, a depiction of what I see in my mind when I can’t remember something to use for a title.  Saying that I do not care about titles is inaccurate.  In this particular case and at this particular time, I choose to treat the request for a title as an unwarranted invasion of privacy, or, from the perspective of what is doing the asking, as an attack against me by something with no rights, something that I cannot stomach.  Not the action but the thing.  “What is this thing demanding a title and claiming to help me?”  It seems that with enough blanks of a certain size it could write itself; what does it need me for?  With enough copy cardboard cookie-cutter cutouts there will be only one thing to say, and that’s it: What it wants me to say.  Welcome to the Board, huh?  Welcome to the Machine Shop.

I just put down an internal dialog on the meanness inherent in the process of criminality, in my own way.  My way is tinged.  I would not say that I have a hole in my head.  That style is grassing.  To be true to oneself we must not adopt the descriptions used by the other side (“on” the other side meant ‘when you’re dead’).  Who composes the other side?  Well, I believe that the state does that, because we live under a cloud in which a great deal of tension is kept going, such that we cannot know, really.  What if the state let all the prisoners go?  Would we be safe?

This is not a how-to book on crime.

I have yet to look up the information on the internet for criminal strategies or how-to books on crime.  I woke up at 3 a.m. and I am worried about this world.  “I am very scared for this world; I am very scared for me.”  R. E. M. says it best, thus.  I was pondering.  I figured out that the picture of a disastrous and inevitable future is a technique of the state.  It is put there as if what I did in the past is catching up with me, that’s all.  It is not.  If I haven’t done anything, how could it?  Ergo, the fear better serves the state when “of punishment” is added.  It is just the style, an insane style.  It is difficult to grasp and difficult to defeat since it turns you against yourself, and all of us against each other.

Of course, it is just imaginary and comes and goes in existence just by thinking on it.  The logical basis for getting isolated and slated for an adverse outcome is skipped over.  You magically elevate to a dangerous status and no one wants to examine the motives for what put you there.  You are captured now and typically, release would triple the paperwork and double the caseload.  So, that is out of the question.  Better you not get in trouble in the first place.

Well, the first place is now, and the usual people doing what they always do have left you and me to rot.

I have one foot in the nuthouse and the prison system, so, there is not much I have not seen.  Except, the Eastern system is, from all appearances the mother of the Western one and is therefore worse.  What do we do about that?  Well, along with innocent people suffering economic hardship, there are newly emergent entities such as the environment.  There are slightly guilty folks castigated beyond the weight of their transgressions.  Let me see if I am using that word correctly, and find out what “very” is in French:


// (kst-gt)

tr.v. cas·ti·gat·ed, cas·ti·gat·ing, cas·ti·gates

1. To inflict severe punishment on. See Synonyms at punish.
2. To criticize severely.
Yeah, I was afraid of missing the target.  Hey, no one is reading this.  In manufacturing, you learn not to have a crew.  If you do the dope yourself, you don’t even have to sell it.  But, when they say that three people can keep a secret if two of them are dead, that is not a lie.  We go around doing this with another sort of crew consisting of the routine souls put to death while you live the good life.  I don’t smoke, see, my friends?  This is just you and me now.
Email: msailor at ucsd dot edu. Office: Pacific Hall, room 4140a Michael J. Sailor is a Professor of Chemistry and Biochemistry at the University of Professor Sailor received a B.S. degree in Chemistry from Harvey Mudd College

Something happened.  It’s posting in bold, and it deleted part.  I was discussing Mark Saylor, and psychic evidence I have.  He buys the farm on Aug. 24 last, but I already write a post called ‘Loaners’; now I know why.  Those loaner cars get uneven wear in the foot space, so they customized it with a mat they had lying around.  You get a bonus by following the mindless dictates of a decrepit capitalist system.  The Manson Family finally got us all.  From door locks alone life is now not worth the trouble to live.


“I had.”  Now the question is down to, “Do I still have?”, or did somebody steal what I had, whatever it is.  Commingling pathos with brain rot, Stephen’s stellar expose of the underbelly of Tijuana night life leaves the reader emotionally drained, as if he just stuck his finger into a light socket, or (something more exhilarating), sticks his head in a camel (not), sticking his kumquat into a crocodile (less permanent, please).  Miracle.
Sometimes I do this (its a head dip), but not in the ocean, just sitting here.  And, I call it.  It’s a kind of ritual, but it doesn’t work in a sentence.  Maybe it will if I set it up.  It’s visual.  I do it like air guitar, without a guitar?  So it is really an air head dip.  Usually nobody is noticing.  I mean, there is never anybody here.  I am on the computer too much to have anyone just stand by.  “What did he do?”, you know, if they make a movie out of my blog.  “Oh, he cracked his neck.”  No, dude.  This is California.  But, I have my safe search turned off, so I got a girl giving head image.  Is that, like, California?  Ha ha.  Yeah.  You all travel out here and go on vacation sucking big black dicks before you go back home to Omaha and resume your lives as Branch Managers for Mutual of Omaha.

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