What do you know of this world in truth? You pretend to understand this boundless cosmos with your five senses. Understand that beings with a wider, stronger, or different range of senses might see the world, energy, and life in a more true light. I have always believed that strange worlds exist around our very being. I now I believe I have found a way to break down these barriers. This is no joke. I have built a machine that will generate energy waves that will act upon our sense organs. We shall for the first time see the things that remain hidden from us. I shall overleap time, space, and dimensions to peer into the nature of creation itself.

You look at me in a such a way that you must be frightened rather than amused. No need to be. Your fears will soon be set aside. Are you not curious? Oh come now. Please follow me now to my laboratory in my attic and observe.

Behold!! This powerful chemical battery. Oh, what is this? The electricity seems to have been turned off. Allow me to flip the switch. As you now see, violet luminosity flows from this wonderful electrical machine. Now please be seated.

Let us begin. Turning this knob will now cause these clusters of glass bulbs to spark. You look puzzled? I shall explain what is now happening to you. What you now see is the ultra-violet. You thought ultra-violet were visible? Hahaha !! It is now. Please note the waves of detached electrons awaken your sleeping senses. Senses that we inherit from eons of evolution. You shall now see the truth.

Look !! Look, the walls begin to fade. This hazy reality is no more than shadow. Do you hear it? The music, it sounds lovely. Oh, this feeling, the feeling of ground scratching glass. How wonderful !! Are you breathless? Indeed you must be.

Wait!! Don’t move. For in these rays we are able to be seen as well as see. Screams!! No, it is the maid downstairs. I told her not to come this evening. What is happening to her? But we must no move. Keep still!!

What is this? Unidentified clouds? This Kaleidoscopic ocean of light. This is so indescribable, the shapes, the colors, what is this? Do you see them? Do you see them !? The things that float and flop about you. My God, what is this? Oh dear, God. What have I done.

Good, They are gone now. Wait!! Don't move. Look, look!! From the shadows it arises. Stay still, it may see us. It’s moving near. AHHHHHHHHHHHH !!!!!!!!! No it can’t be. It...It...

Pardon my indulgent self-pity, but I've earned it. Where's my George Dickle?

Y'all should recall that recent incident at the resthome involvin' Nurse "Battle Axe" Boucher, the jackass and that god-forsaken syringe she buried in the top o' his skull. What many of ya prob'ly fail to understand is this was no itsy-bitsy insulin needle. Oh, but HELL no! Truth is, I don't have a clue where the ol' Battle Axe got that sumbitch, but it looks like a syringe a zoo veterinarian'd use . . . on hippos, elephants, King Kong, whatever. It ain't no syringe intended fer a human, that's fer damn sure.

It's still there, too, right dead-center 'tween the jackass's Howdy-Doody ears, like a radio receiver fer his brain ("brain" used quite casually).

Not that this story I'm about to share has so much to do with that jumbo syringe stuck in his noggin . . . that tale's already been told. It's just that I want all you faithful 'n' loyal readers to have as full 'n' accurate a visual o' whut I get t'deal with each 'n' every day (exceptin' fer those days when his jackassedness be in jail). I mean, as if his penchant fer wearin' that red brassiere 'n' Justin Ropers wuzn't bizarre enough, he's now walkin' around with that apparatus juttin' outta his head like he wuz born with it. Even worse, ever since he acquired his new head ornament, he's become severely cockeyed an' the needle's apparently kicked his saliva glands into overdrive. Shit, this droolin' thang o' his is especially nasty, cuz he chews Day's Work (the irony) plug tobaccy all day long. Hell, he reminds me of a slobberin' big-ass mutant grasshopper.

I need a drink. Be back here, directly.

Now, where wuz I? Oh. That jackass is back in jail. How do I know? Let me count the ways. Hell, I knew his sorry butt wuz in the pokey even 'fore I got my customary "JEB! I need bail money!" phonecall. Y'see, the slammer is only a coupla blocks away from the home 'n' we can always hear him loud 'n' clear when he's gettin' his usual deeeeeep body cavity searches. "FIGARO! FEEE-GA-ROOOOO!!! FIGARO, FIGARO, FEEEEE-GAAAAAHHHAHA-ROOHOHOOOWOHO . . . HO . . . HO . . . F-F-F-FIGARO!!!!", echoes gleefully throughout the neighborhood. Hell, Fred even tries singin' along.

Truth be, it's enough to make any normal grown man cry, or drive him t'drinkin'.

I need another drink.

Aaah, that's better. It so happened the jackass was workin' off some fines by doin' "community service". On that absurdly fateful day, Mayor Crowley needed some watermelons fer the annual watermelon feed 'n' ice cream social sponsored by the local women's club. The fine ladies of our town hold this event in the pavilion at the local park an' always invite a prestigious keynote speaker. This year's guest wuz none other than our State Rrepresentative, the Honorable Ms. Lula McGinty (no relation to that jackass McGinty).

Well, that dimwit Mayor Crowley coulda 'n' shoulda got the damn melons hisself, but NOOOO! Instead, he gives the jackass a twenty-dollar bill to " . . . go fetch me sum melons, convict!" I thought everybody knew it's pure folly to ever give money to that jackass. Nevertheless, our "hero" stuffs the twenty in his pocket, gits in m'truck, 'n' heads straight out to Melvin The Freak's place.

You see, Freaky Melvin's known all around these here parts fer his "psychedelic melons". Ol' Melvin spikes 'em with LSD, mescaline, or whatever hallucinogen(s) he can get his hands on. Of course, our jackass is well aware o' this an' also knows that, when the melons are in season, one can always find several stashed under Melvin's back porch.

Melons were in season on that absurdly fateful day and I need another drink. Just one more.

Damn, that's sum goood Dickle. And, yeah, them damn hoity-toity local wimmens got their sumbitchin' melons, alright. Jeebus. Them broads plowed right into 'em, that is, exceptin' fer LuWanda, the Mayor's wife. Instead o' melons, that big she-whale polished off a 4-quart freezer o' peach ice cream, all the while makin' it a point to tell anyone who'd listen how she wuz allergic to watermelon. Claimed melon makes her break out in hives an' also gives her the diarrhea.

In short order, LuWanda had the ice cream to herself while the rest o' the hens were on the other side o' the pavilion, just cacklin' away 'n' chowin' down on those juicy melvin-melons.

In less than thirty minutes, decorum among the melon-feasters wuz history.

Of course, in short order the squad cars arrived. Our jackass an' the Honorable Lula McGinty were prancin' around on top of a picnic table, singin' a duet o' somethin' that sounded ever-so-remotely like The Girl From Ipanema. Lula wuz also quite giddy over the fact that they were both wearin' red brassieres. Fact is, she got plum "giddy" over everythin', as did the rest o' the melon-munchin' wimmen, most of whom were already in alarming states o' rowdiness 'n' disheveled undress.

Would sumbuddy please explain just whut 'tis 'bout gittin' messed up that causes wimmen's clothin' to start fallin' off? I wanna know.

And I need just one mo' drink. Just a li'l sip.

The good news wuz Rep. McGinty, a Republican, did everything she could to git the whole deal swept under the rug. She called in sum markers 'n' persuaded the County Prosecutor (wonder calls her "that cunty persecutor!") not to file any State charges, bein' as the Prosecutor wuz also a good Republican, herself. The bad news wuz that Mayor Crowley's a yellow-dog Democrat. Hence, Lula's pleas to the Mayor on behalf o' the jackass fell on deaf ears.

True, it didn't help matters none too much that Crowley's jiggly vat o' woman fat wife waddled into City Hall that day, a-huffin' an' puffin' that she'd just been repeatedly ravished by "that depraved animal wonderaz McGinty". Naturally, an audience quickly gathered an' grew larger 'n' larger. Someone managed to scrounge up a coupla chairs fer her, so she was only too happy to describe in lurid and explicit detail all the numerous alleged carnal violations o' every orifice in her massive body.

I suppose in an attempt to save face 'n appease his love-boat (Mrs. Titanic), Mayor Crowley badgered the City Attorney into slappin' the jackass with a half dozen counts o' disturbin' the peace (disturbin' the piece?). But, the jackass'll be outta jail in a day or two and the City Judge'll be orderin' him to yet more "community service". They do say life is a circle, eh?

I hear LuWanda, the Crowley manatee, is plannin' to be a guest on Oprah. Jeebus.

And I need just one more li'l bitty 'nother drink. Just one more. Amen.

Anyways, there's a point to this rambling. My real name is Rob Johnson. That's not a secret. I'm 26 years old, and when i was 20 i bought my first computer. When i was 21 i bought and started 'Flipside.com LLP' with a friend, which was basically an all for nothing web company, but we mostly got by with creating early business webpages. We created the very first business.com page, i wish i could show it to you, it was sad by todays standards but being owned by Time-Warner they paid us proper, and that was probably our hinge either into success or eternal drunkeness... the drunkeness came but it took some work - we took the hard route i guess.

We eventually became Flipside, Inc and soon registered uporoar.com, along with a shitload of other domain names including playboy.net. Well, this was back in 1996'ish and we sold Playboy.net for US $15,000 ... today itd be worth 100 times that - if we only knew. We were making some decent cash for the time but that $15k pushed us over... we started buyin domains wholesale and selling the good ones for cash. My business, Flipside, Inc has, just to name a few, sold news.com, news.net, foxnews.org, thenews.com, blindmelon.com, perljam.com, blackcrowes.com, ultimaonline.net and ultimaonline.com. That's a few of the well known ones out of literally thousands.

Over the years our business grew and we looked for ways to grow. We had and have possession of uproar.com which we used for online gaming for 2 years but when regulations snapped us in the ass is was either go out to sea or come up with something new. We did the latter, we came up with http://www.iwin.com. Not that it's anything particularly spectacular, but we were first so we got the success. I fully admit if i had been born at any other time i'd be a complete failure, this was simply a fluke of space and time. We are still known as Flipside, Inc but we are sponsored by Vivendi Publishing who is basically Blizzard games, responsible for Diablo and StarCraft and many other timefuckers. They still havn't put out a QuakeIII as far as im concerned but dont tell them i said that Anyways youve prolly seen us on tv, well maybe, we give away 10 million every tax day and over 50 million a year (no i can't hook you up)

I started playing Ultima Online as a way to get away from real life, as did hundreds of thousands of other people. I played religiously for over 2 years and became addicted to this board at cob.xrgaming.net and became addicted. Some guy that went by 'Slayer' (whom is still there actually and works like 3 miles from me) pointed me towards stileproject forum one day. Shit just went from there, i've met alot of good people, made a fool of myself sometimes, had a lot of fun, and plan on having alot more.

Anyways, the point of this is, i'm fucking dissappointed. 'The Asylum Does Vegas' is due in like 2 weeks and you fuckers all gave up... WTF!!!!! I can't blame you, i know damn well what it's like to be broke as a joke and i'm here to offer a bit of assistance...

Asylum Does Vegas will now be known as Asylum Does Rural Minnesota (my summer home biznatch :P). Here's the deal, i have nearly 400 acres on 2 lakes. I'll have more booze than you've ever seen in your life. Illegal substances are NOT welcome and you'll have to sign a release stating you're responsible for anything stupid you do on my property. Other than that I have 2 SkiDoos and 2 JetSkii PWC, a Ski Nautique with all needed accessories, a 22' pontoon, a 14' Alumnicraft fishing boat, a Kawasaki MULE500 4 wheeler, 2 rebuilt Kawasaki 550/450 4 wheelers, 2 golf carts, 2 Suzuki DR650SE's, and 2 '00 Ducati 996 Superbikers (one red one yellow and i'm not fucking kidding (no touchie unless no drinkie, my buddy skinny will show ya how to ride a wheelie at 150mph or endo for 300ft though))

Sound like a dream yet? Well, i figure we have 900 some peeps registered and probably 1/4 are aliases, another 1/4 left and never will return. That leaves about 450 peeps, and to fly 450 peeps from all corners of the earth and back would cost like... well let me deal with thaat. First 250 peeps to email me. Is that fair? I don't care if any of you fuckers show up to tell you the truth, there was 200+ peeps here last year christ im just extending the offer. I can almost guarantee pussy for the guys, and i CAN guarantee dick for the chicks. Date for this affair is Aug 17-23. If you want to leave on the 19th PM it can be arranged but i need to know ASAP.

I hope this 'coming out' doesn't fuck up asylum relations. I like you guys cuz i can talk to you as a normal person, and not a 'millionaire'. Hehe i was even tossing around the idea of bringing a couple of us drunk asses up to Canada in a jet to confront Jay Stile at his front door, on camera, dont tell me that wouldn't be hilarious. LOL ill plan it.

Just remember, I'm a loser like you. That's all you need to know.

K?Thx.Bye!

Anyways, there's a point to this rambling. My real name is Rob Johnson. That's not a secret. I'm 26 years old, and when i was 20 i bought my first computer. When i was 21 i bought and started 'Flipside.com LLP' with a friend, which was basically an all for nothing web company, but we mostly got by with creating early business webpages. We created the very first business.com page, i wish i could show it to you, it was sad by todays standards but being owned by Time-Warner they paid us proper, and that was probably our hinge either into success or eternal drunkeness... the drunkeness came but it took some work - we took the hard route i guess.

We eventually became Flipside, Inc and soon registered uporoar.com, along with a shitload of other domain names including playboy.net. Well, this was back in 1996'ish and we sold Playboy.net for US $15,000 ... today itd be worth 100 times that - if we only knew. We were making some decent cash for the time but that $15k pushed us over... we started buyin domains wholesale and selling the good ones for cash. My business, Flipside, Inc has, just to name a few, sold news.com, news.net, foxnews.org, thenews.com, blindmelon.com, perljam.com, blackcrowes.com, ultimaonline.net and ultimaonline.com. That's a few of the well known ones out of literally thousands.

Over the years our business grew and we looked for ways to grow. We had and have possession of uproar.com which we used for online gaming for 2 years but when regulations snapped us in the ass is was either go out to sea or come up with something new. We did the latter, we came up with http://www.iwin.com. Not that it's anything particularly spectacular, but we were first so we got the success. I fully admit if i had been born at any other time i'd be a complete failure, this was simply a fluke of space and time. We are still known as Flipside, Inc but we are sponsored by Vivendi Publishing who is basically Blizzard games, responsible for Diablo and StarCraft and many other timefuckers. They still havn't put out a QuakeIII as far as im concerned but dont tell them i said that Anyways youve prolly seen us on tv, well maybe, we give away 10 million every tax day and over 50 million a year (no i can't hook you up)

I started playing Ultima Online as a way to get away from real life, as did hundreds of thousands of other people. I played religiously for over 2 years and became addicted to this board at cob.xrgaming.net and became addicted. Some guy that went by 'Slayer' (whom is still there actually and works like 3 miles from me) pointed me towards stileproject forum one day. Shit just went from there, i've met alot of good people, made a fool of myself sometimes, had a lot of fun, and plan on having alot more.

Anyways, the point of this is, i'm fucking dissappointed. 'The Asylum Does Vegas' is due in like 2 weeks and you fuckers all gave up... WTF!!!!! I can't blame you, i know damn well what it's like to be broke as a joke and i'm here to offer a bit of assistance...

Asylum Does Vegas will now be known as Asylum Does Rural Minnesota (my summer home biznatch :P). Here's the deal, i have nearly 400 acres on 2 lakes. I'll have more booze than you've ever seen in your life. Illegal substances are NOT welcome and you'll have to sign a release stating you're responsible for anything stupid you do on my property. Other than that I have 2 SkiDoos and 2 JetSkii PWC, a Ski Nautique with all needed accessories, a 22' pontoon, a 14' Alumnicraft fishing boat, a Kawasaki MULE500 4 wheeler, 2 rebuilt Kawasaki 550/450 5 wheelers, 2 golf carts, 2 Suzuki DR650SE's, and 2 '00 Ducati 996 Superbikers (one red one yellow and i'm not fucking kidding (no touchie unless no drinkie, my buddy skinny will show ya how to ride a wheelie at 150mph or endo for 300ft though))

Sound like a dream yet? Well, i figure we have 900 some peeps registered and probably 1/4 are aliases, another 1/4 left and never will return. That leaves about 450 peeps, and to fly 450 peeps from all corners of the earth and back would cost like... well let me deal with thaat. First 25 peeps to email me. Is that fair? I don't care if any of you fuckers show up to tell you the truth, there was 200+ peeps here last year christ im just extending the offer. I can almost guarantee pussy for the guys, and i CAN guarantee dick for the chicks. Date for this affair is Aug 17-23. If you want to leave on the 19th PM it can be arranged but i need to know ASAP.

I hope this 'coming out' doesn't fuck up asylum relations. I like you guys cuz i can talk to you as a normal person, and not a 'millionaire'. Hehe i was even tossing around the idea of bringing a couple of us drunk asses up to Canada in a jet to confront Jay Stile at his front door, on camera, dont tell me that wouldn't be hilarious. LOL ill plan it.

Just remember, I'm a loser like you. That's all you need to know.

K?Thx.Bye!

All of you, fuckin bitches and hoes. Well, it's been over a year now, and i wanted to do this on The Asylum birthday, but shit didn't work out that way and you have to settle for now. I just wanna say to you all, i know alot of you like family and it's hard to believe its ONLY been a year. Real fuckin hard... I appreciate the support we've gotten as far as cash, sales and verbal support. The dough-reigh-mis have gone to good things, unfortunately i havnt got a company car yet or even a paycheck for that matter, but the bucks have been spent wisely. You'll see asylum go throun a transformation in the coming weeks, and yes the rumour is true a 14 year old canvas of aged wonder secretion will be the forum drop image, but i assure you its really cool.

Anyways, there's a point to this rambling. My real name is Rob Johnson. That's not a secret. I'm 26 years old, and when i was 20 i bought my first computer. When i was 21 i bought and started 'Flipside.com LLP' with a friend, which was basically an all for nothing web company, but we mostly got by with creating early business webpages. We created the very first business.com page, i wish i could show it to you, it was sad by todays standards but being owned by Time-Warner they paid us proper, and that was probably our hinge either into success or eternal drunkeness... the drunkeness came but it took some work - we took the hard route i guess.

We eventually became Flipside, Inc and soon registered uporoar.com, along with a shitload of other domain names including playboy.net. Well, this was back in 1996'ish and we sold Playboy.net for US $15,000 ... today itd be worth 100 times that - if we only knew. We were making some decent cash for the time but that $15k pushed us over... we started buyin domains wholesale and selling the good ones for cash. My business, Flipside, Inc has, just to name a few, sold news.com, news.net, foxnews.org, thenews.com, blindmelon.com, perljam.com, blackcrowes.com, ultimaonline.net and ultimaonline.com. That's a few of the well known ones out of literally thousands.

Over the years our business grew and we looked for ways to grow. We had and have possession of uproar.com which we used for online gaming for 2 years but when regulations snapped us in the ass is was either go out to sea or come up with something new. We did the latter, we came up with http://www.iwin.com. Not that it's anything particularly spectacular, but we were first so we got the success. I fully admit if i had been born at any other time i'd be a complete failure, this was simply a fluke of space and time. We are still known as Flipside, Inc but we are sponsored by Vivendi Publishing who is basically Blizzard games, responsible for Diablo and StarCraft and many other timefuckers. They still havn't put out a QuakeIII as far as im concerned but dont tell them i said that Anyways youve prolly seen us on tv, well maybe, we give away 10 million every tax day and over 50 million a year (no i can't hook you up)

I started playing Ultima Online as a way to get away from real life, as did hundreds of thousands of other people. I played religiously for over 2 years and became addicted to this board at cob.xrgaming.net and became addicted. Some guy that went by 'Slayer' (whom is still there actually and works like 3 miles from me) pointed me towards stileproject forum one day. Shit just went from there, i've met alot of good people, made a fool of myself sometimes, had a lot of fun, and plan on having alot more.

Anyways, the point of this is, i'm fucking dissappointed. 'The Asylum Does Vegas' is due in like 2 weeks and you fuckers all gave up... WTF!!!!! I can't blame you, i know damn well what it's like to be broke as a joke and i'm here to offer a bit of assistance...

Asylum Does Vegas will now be known as Asylum Does Rural Minnesota (my summer home biznatch :P). Here's the deal, i have nearly 400 acres on 2 lakes. I'll have more booze than you've ever seen in your life. Illegal substances are NOT welcome and you'll have to sign a release stating you're responsible for anything stupid you do on my property. Other than that I have 2 SkiDoos and 2 JetSkii PWC, a Ski Nautique with all needed accessories, a 22' pontoon, a 14' Alumnicraft fishing boat, a Kawasaki MULE500 4 wheeler, 2 rebuilt Kawasaki 550/450 5 wheelers, 2 golf carts, 2 Suzuki DR650SE's, and 2 '00 Ducati 996 Superbikers (one red one yellow and i'm not fucking kidding (no touchie unless no drinkie, my buddy skinny will show ya how to ride a wheelie at 150mph or endo for 300ft though))

Sound like a dream yet? Well, i figure we have 900 some peeps registered and probably 1/4 are aliases, another 1/4 left and never will return. That leaves about 450 peeps, and to fly 450 peeps from all corners of the earth and back would cost like... well let me deal with thaat. First 25 peeps to email me. Is that fair? I don't care if any of you fuckers show up to tell you the truth, there was 200+ peeps here last year christ im just extending the offer. I can almost guarantee pussy for the guys, and i CAN guarantee dick for the chicks. Date for this affair is Aug 17-23. If you want to leave on the 19th PM it can be arranged but i need to know ASAP.

I hope this 'coming out' doesn't fuck up asylum relations. I like you guys cuz i can talk to you as a normal person, and not a 'millionaire'. Hehe i was even tossing around the idea of bringing a couple of us drunk asses up to Canada in a jet to confront Jay Stile at his front door, on camera, dont tell me that wouldn't be hilarious. LOL ill plan it.

Just remember, I'm a loser like you. That's all you need to know.

K?Thx.Bye!

All of you, fuckin bitches and hoes. Well, it's been over a year now, and i wanted to do this on The Asylum birthday, but shit didn't work out that way and you have to settle for now. I just wanna say to you all, i know alot of you like family and it's hard to believe its ONLY been a year. Real fuckin hard... I appreciate the support we've gotten as far as cash, sales and verbal support. The dough-reigh-mis have gone to good things, unfortunately i havnt got a company car yet or even a paycheck for that matter, but the bucks have been spent wisely. You'll see asylum go throun a transformation in the coming weeks, and yes the rumour is true a 14 year old canvas of aged wonder secretion will be the forum drop image, but i assure you its really cool.

Anyways, there's a point to this rambling. My real name is Rob Johnson. That's not a secret. I'm 26 years old, and when i was 20 i bought my first computer. When i was 21 i bought and started 'Flipside.com LLP' with a friend, which was basically an all for nothing web company, but we mostly got by with creating early business webpages. We created the very first business.com page, i wish i could show it to you, it was sad by todays standards but being owned by Time-Warner they paid us proper, and that was probably our hinge either into success or eternal drunkeness... the drunkeness came but it took some work - we took the hard route i guess.

We eventually became Flipside, Inc and soon registered uporoar.com, along with a shitload of other domain names including playboy.net. Well, this was back in 1996'ish and we sold Playboy.net for US $15,000 ... today itd be worth 100 times that - if we only knew. We were making some decent cash for the time but that $15k pushed us over... we started buyin domains wholesale and selling the good ones for cash. My business, Flipside, Inc has, just to name a few, sold news.com, news.net, foxnews.org, thenews.com, blindmelon.com, perljam.com, blackcrowes.com, ultimaonline.net and ultimaonline.com. That's a few of the well known ones out of literally thousands.

Over the years our business grew and we looked for ways to grow. We had and have possession of uproar.com which we used for online gaming for 2 years but when regulations snapped us in the ass is was either go out to sea or come up with something new. We did the latter, we came up with http://www.iwin.com. Not that it's anything particularly spectacular, but we were first so we got the success. I fully admit if i had been born at any other time i'd be a complete failure, this was simply a fluke of space and time. We are still known as Flipside, Inc but we are sponsored by Vivendi Publishing who is basically Blizzard games, responsible for Diablo and StarCraft and many other timefuckers. They still havn't put out a QuakeIII as far as im concerned but dont tell them i said that Anyways youve prolly seen us on tv, well maybe, we give away 10 million every tax day and over 50 million a year (no i can't hook you up)

I started playing Ultima Online as a way to get away from real life, as did hundreds of thousands of other people. I played religiously for over 2 years and became addicted to this board at cob.xrgaming.net and became addicted. Some guy that went by 'Slayer' (whom is still there actually and works like 3 miles from me) pointed me towards stileproject forum one day. Shit just went from there, i've met alot of good people, made a fool of myself sometimes, had a lot of fun, and plan on having alot more.

Anyways, the point of this is, i'm fucking dissappointed. 'The Asylum Does Vegas' is due in like 2 weeks and you fuckers all gave up... WTF!!!!! I can't blame you, i know damn well what it's like to be broke as a joke and i'm here to offer a bit of assistance...

Asylum Does Vegas will now be known as Asylum Does Rural Minnesota (my summer home biznatch :P). Here's the deal, i have nearly 400 acres on 2 lakes. I'll have more booze than you've ever seen in your life. Illegal substances are NOT welcome and you'll have to sign a release stating you're responsible for anything stupid you do on my property. Other than that I have 2 SkiDoos and 2 JetSkii PWC, a Ski Nautique with all needed accessories, a 22' pontoon, a 14' Alumnicraft fishing boat, a Kawasaki MULE500 4 wheeler, 2 rebuilt Kawasaki 550/450 5 wheelers, 2 golf carts, 2 Suzuki DR650SE's, and 2 '00 Ducati 996 Superbikers (one red one yellow and i'm not fucking kidding (no touchie unless no drinkie, my buddy skinny will show ya how to ride a wheelie at 150mph or endo for 300ft though))

Sound like a dream yet? Well, i figure we have 900 some peeps registered and probably 1/4 are aliases, another 1/4 left and never will return. That leaves about 450 peeps, and to fly 450 peeps from all corners of the earth and back would cost like... well let me deal with thaat. First 25 peeps to email me. Is that fair? I don't care if any of you fuckers show up to tell you the truth, there was 200+ peeps here last year christ im just extending the offer. I can almost guarantee pussy for the guys, and i CAN guarantee dick for the chicks. Date for this affair is Aug 17-23. If you want to leave on the 19th PM it can be arranged but i need to know ASAP.

I hope this 'coming out' doesn't fuck up asylum relations. I like you guys cuz i can talk to you as a normal person, and not a 'millionaire'. Hehe i was even tossing around the idea of bringing a couple of us drunk asses up to Canada in a jet to confront Jay Stile at his front door, on camera, dont tell me that wouldn't be hilarious. LOL ill plan it.

Just remember, I'm a loser like you. That's all you need to know.

K?Thx.Bye!

We'll be holding a small celebration later today at Chelle's house. BYOC!

Trivia will be held tonight at 6 p.m. EST in chat channel #trivia ... some general questions, some Asylum-specific. Join us!

Stool Pigeon.

What an unglamorous life. It almost sounds like it could be fun, putting your life on the line, leading cops to the bad guys, pretending to be someone you're not. Plus, you're helping the good guys, you're on the right side. When you get into the world of narcotics though, things get blurred. They all want drugs, yea, the dealers are bad, of course, but what about your friends? People you know? And, it's worse when you're caught with 11 tabs of acid on you, buying from an undercover narc agent. Now, it's forced upon you and you have no choice. I live in constant paranoia; did they bug my car? Are they listening to my telephone conversations? I can't even talk frankly with some of my friends b/c I desperately don't want them to be arrested for something I got caught for. So, what do I do? I can snitch, or I can take my licks and let them press charges.

Charges would go on my record forever, even if they were dropped to misdemeanors. I would have to put them on job applications. Misdeamenor drug possession? What drug? Acid, sorry, we can't use you, here's the door. This has the potential to completely screw over my life. I've used pot several times, and never touched anything else, and I got caught in a sting from someone else who was saving their ass from jail time by sending me there. What a hell of a way to go. They have the evidence to convict me, and it's a foregone conclusion, so now I guess it's time to bargain. I was caught six weeks ago, and in a midnight interrogation, they painted a frightening picture. They have audio evidence of my buying, the undercover officer selling it to me, and they found it in my possession. The only way to get myself out of this is to help myself, as they called it. If I knew anyone, friends, acquaintances, anything, then if I just set them up, and took them down, all would be forgiven.

I left that room a broken man.

If I had had a leg to stand on, some chink in their case, I would have fought, and fought madly, but there was none. I had done it, they had it all.

The first things through my mind that night were thoughts I never would think. I thought of all my closest friends and their habits, one was an ex dope fiend, one smoked pot forever and quit, etc, etc. None used currently, but they all had. I'm ashamed of myself for thinking like that. That will be one of the memories that will stay with me forever, considering turning in my friends to save my own ass. The only person outside my immediate family that found out about it was my best friend, and she counseled me to go snitch for them. Unfortunately, I really don't have any drug links, I went through my only one previously, and he had turned me in.

So where was I? I have a felony drug charge hanging over my head, one way out, and no way to use it. They said they could set it up in such a way that they'd never know who snitched em out, and I've run through ways in my head dozens of times, but I'd know, and that's enough. I always wanted to be someone that everyone could trust, and that was my proudest thing about myself, my unflinching honesty, and truth. If I go through with this, will I ever be able to look myself in the eye again? I'm trading the rest of my life for a compromise in my morals for the next few months, and I dunno if I can make the right choice. I dunno what the right choice is. I don't know if I could live with myself after doing this, I don't know how well I could live with a drug conviction. Catch-22. What do I do?

What do I do.

I am already two days into a three-week break from the seemingly endless drudgery of school. Two days of sitting and feeling lost. I’m caught in an awkward circuit of sitting, listening to music, pacing the house, coming back to sit, making phone calls, playing my guitar, more sitting, and intermittent bouts of unenthusiastic sex.

I think it’s the sitting that’s been getting to me most of all. I mean, I’ve spent fucking HOURS sitting in class every day for the past seven months. Now, when I’m sitting in my chair at home, or on the edge of my bed, this tension begins to wash over me. I can’t explain it. It feels as though someone is slowly pressing their knotted up fists into my kidneys. Jesus, is this what being normal feels like? If it is, I think I’ll pass, thank you very much.

Maybe that’s exactly what it is. Normalcy. Normalcy creeping over me with the same cold and inexorable certainty as the slowly growing shadows at twilight. Whatever the case, school is out for the time being. Hell, maybe it’s out for good…who knows? There is a very real chance that I won’t be allowed to return when the fall session begins. It’s a long story, really. It all had something to do with a prudish professor, and a thirty-minute presentation on contraceptive alternatives and their various physiological repercussions, etc…

I wish that she had chosen a different topic for me. Patient teaching, perhaps? Diet therapy for diabetes melitus? Congenital acyanotic heart defects? Nope. For me, she picked contraception. Holy-fucking-Jesus, it was almost like a dare. No, considering the nature of the beast, I think it was more like a well-executed trap. Oh, man…sometimes retrospect can sting like a mother. I should have known, and maybe I did know. Nevertheless, I was powerless against the pull of it.

See, a couple of months ago I nearly got booted from the program for administering I.M. Demerol to a patient, without the “necessary” benefit of a professor being present. For those of you who don’t know, arbitrarily doling out injectable narcotics, without a medical license, is some pretty heavy mojo in all fifty states. They could have really had me for it. They should have, actually. If it weren’t for the fact that I had just received a serious academic achievement award two-weeks prior, that damned professor would have nailed me. As it was, I’m sure that she tried.

For weeks, it’s been written all over her face, and in her demeanor. She had tried to destroy me, and failed miserably. Swatted down by some higher power, the vile bitch developed a gnawing hunger for that which she had been denied…namely, my pale, white, ass.

Well, to make an atypically short story even shorter, ever since the Demerol incident, I’ve adopted a “yes ma’am, no ma’am” bootcamp mentality that has managed to keep me safely beyond the reach of her questing tendrils for quite some time. While that worked rather effectively as a method of protection against her sinister intentions, it also served to foster a rapidly growing loathing within me. I’ve developed a strong disdain for her high-handed “teaching” methods. I’ve become ever more acutely aware of her glaring ignorance regarding pediatric medicine. What’s more, some twisted aspect of my interior self has become fixated upon her juvenile prudishness, and I have since burned to present any affront that I can muster to this cloistered aspect of her otherwise colorless personality.

So, the day came for the presentations. I sat through seven hours of seriously dry and humdrum bullshit, the muffled buzzing of my classmates snores my only distraction, before I finally got my very own chance to shine.

And, shine I did.

I sauntered up to the podium, satchel in hand, and talked, for a while, about contraceptives. I talked about genitalia. I talked about contraceptives and genitalia. I switched over to some nasty social diseases for a while, and then I talked about fucking. I mean, I talked about humpin’ baby. I discussed position and technique. I covered all the names, from Grafenberg to Helmschmidt. After that, I waded right into the important issues like, “how to apply contraceptives without ruining the mood,” and, “how masturbation is an oft-overlooked and very effective method of birth control.” I might add that my masturbation piece was liberally peppered with advice for both men and women. Advice such as, “Hoffman technique nipple stimulation to encourage deep vaginal and uterine contractions in order to assist reaching the orgasmic plateau when pleasuring oneself avec le battery powered rubber pee-pee,” and all sorts of other niceties that you would never expect to hear in pleasant and well-educated company.

(Damn Warhol, but everyone does have their fifteen minutes of fame, don’t they? I spent mine as a self-declared, bona-fide guru of bean flickin’. What a way to check out, baby.)

In the end, I produced a 10” long rubber phallus dubbed the “Coitus Maximus,” that I had proffered from the local hump-shop the day prior, and invited one of my very enthusiastic and thoroughly sexy classmates to approach the podium and demonstrate the proper technique of applying a Trojan Magnum with nothing save her tongue and lips.

It was, all at once, both a stunning and very disquieting sight.

I left the podium to an almost deafening mixture of laughter and applause, with my giant, moistly glistening, condom-clad rubber dong slung over my shoulder. Sparing only the briefest of moments to gather the remainder of my possessions from the classroom floor, I strolled toward the purple-faced professor and shot her a quick wink as I passed through the doors for what very well may have been the final time ever.

Now, while all of this might make a suitable story for a feel-good, teen-angst, college-flick, this is real life. There ain’t no credits rollin’ here, know what I mean? There’s no strolling off into the sunset while the music swells to crescendo. There’s just me, and this gnawing tension in the small of my back that reminds me that I don’t know whether or not I’ve just completely screwed myself for the sake of haughty vanity.

And, either way, it really doesn’t matter at all, does it?

I’ll tell you what. Once, I knew a secret. It was a beautiful secret that lifted me up and lent me grace when times seemed tough and uncertain.

Hold on, I’ll be right back.

Yes. It’s an immaculate summer night. The sky is all diamonds and black velvet, and a cool breeze is washing over my face, smelling like the four hour late leftovers of fresh baked everything. The midnight wind carries promises.

Beauty renews, and I return the promise. It is this: I will not let tomorrow pass unnoticed.

(“I love a good story” is only one letter apart from “I live a good story.” One letter, but what a world of difference. Come tomorrow morning, I think I’ll invest in a brand new vowel.)

Right now, though, I’m tired. I need to rest my head, my weary head. Tomorrow, I’m going to remember that secret. I am. But now, I’m going to close my eyes and rest for a moment; close my eyes and let the silence roll in like thunder.

Tomorrow. I’ll see you there.

Redguard@blackvault.com