Thursday, May 3, 2012
Psychological Reference Books and Self Help Guides
Articles, Books and Links, Oh MY!
At the request of several people that have their works posted here, it was suggested that I throw a list of books, magazines and links. These resources span a great many decades, from a wide variety of places both from the United States and Abroad.
This list compiled is the result of my studies and that of the loyal posters that have taken their time to share their thoughts and experiences.
Though it does not exclusively delve strictly into the world of Nonviolent Psychopathy, it is nonetheless, a great list to learn psychology from. To, perhaps, gain some knowledge into the world of human behavior: breed some understanding of one another, shed some light on murky places. To learn and maybe be inspired.
This list is the result of many people. Those that cared enough to share things that made a difference to them.
Books: *hopefully by subject)
>>>>>>>>GENERAL PSYCHOLOGY<<<<<<<<<<<<
UNDERSTANDING HUMAN BEHAVIOR (24 volume set) 1974
PUBLISHER: Columbia House.
ASIN: B000oTPH78
This series is sometimes still available on Amazon at anywhere between $29.00 and $99.00.
AN: I was twelve when I ate this series up. It was fantastic reading. It opened doors for me, as I am sure it did many. I’ll have to read it again and see what theories have changed and what has held the test of time.
Thank you my dear sister Holly: you allowed me to read these books. Not sure what you thought of a much younger brother taking such an interest way before his time. I will always be indebted to you for this. <if I could only remember the text books you brought back from your time at CWRU, which I always read with great eagerness.>
BENEATH THE MASK - AN INTRODUCTION TO THEORIES OF PERSONALITY- (EDITION SEVEN) 2003 by Christopher Monte and Robert N. Sollod
ASIN: B001BCJN6
AMAZON: prices vary.
THE STANDARD EDITION OF THE COMPLETE PSYCHOLOGICAL WORKS OF SIGMUND FREUD (24 volumes) 1986. By Sigmund Freud and James Strachey.
PUBLISHER: London the Hogarth Press (August 17 1986)
ISBN-10: 0701200677 and ISBN-13: 978-0701200671
AMAZON: NEW: $5036.95 AND USED: $29.95
THE SCIENCE OF HUMAN NATURE: A PSYCHOLOGY FOR BEGINNERS. 2010
By William Henry Pyle
PUBLISHER: Kessinger Publishing, LLC (September 10, 2010
ISBN-10: 1163488607
ISBN-13: 978-1163488607
DREAM PSYCHOLOGY: 2012 by Sigmund Freud.
PUBLISHER: Empire Books (March 15, 2012)
ISBN-10: 1619491311
ISBN-13: 978-1619491311
AMAZON: ABOUT $9.99
PSYCHOLOGY, THEOLOGY, AND SPIRITUALITY IN CHRISTIAN COUNSELING (AACC LIBRARY) 1996 by Mark R. McMinn
PUBLISHER: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. (June 25, 1996)
ISBN-10: 0844235252X
ISBN-13: 978-0842352529
>>>>>>BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDERS<<<<<<<
STOP WALKING ON EGGSHELLS: TAKING YOUR LIFE BACK WHEN SOMEONE YOU CARE ABOUT HAS BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDERS. 2010 by Paul Mason MS and Randi Kreger.
PUBLISHER: New Harbinger Publications; Second Edition (January 2, 2010)
ISBN-10: 1572246901
ISBN-13: 978-1572246904
HOW TO SPOT A BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER. 2011 by Joe Navarro
PUBLISHER: (SOLD BY AMAZON DIGITAL SERVICES)
ASIN: B00550HPTK
>>>>>>>>PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE BEHAVIOR<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
THE ANGRY SMILE: THE PSYCHOLOGY OF PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE BEHAVIOR IN FAMILIES, SCHOOLS, AND WORKPLACES. 2008 by Nicholas James Long, Jodi E. Long and Signe Whitson
PUBLISHER: Pro ed; second edition (December 31. 2008)
ISBN-10: 1416404236
ISBN-13: 978-1416404231
LIVING WITH PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE MAN: COPING WITH HIDDEN AGGRESSION- FROM BEDROOM TO BOARDROOM. 1993. By Scott Wetzler
PUBLISHER: Touchstone (October 1, 1993)
ISBN-10: 0671870742
ISBN-13: 978-0671870744
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>EATING DISORDERS<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
GOODBYE ED, HELLO ME: RECOVER FROM EATING DISORDERS AND FALL IN LOVE WITH LIFE. 2009 By Jenni Schaefer
PUBLISHER: McGraw-Hill (August 5, 2009)
ISBN-10: 0071608877
ISBN-13: 978-0071608879
BULIMIA: A GUIDE TO RECOVERY. 2010 By Lindsey Hall and Leigh Cohn M.A.T
PUBLISHER: Gurze Books; 25 anniversary edition (November 1, 2010)
ISBN-10: 0936077514
ISBN-13: 978-0936077512
YOUNG DIETING DAUGHTER…IS SHE DYING FOR ATTENTION? 1996 by Carolyn Costin
PUBLISHER: Routledge (October 1, 1996)
ISBN-10: 0876308361
ISBN-13: 978-0876308363
>>>>>>>>ON CHILD ABUSE<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
BEHOLD THE CHILD. 2010 by Harry Shannon
PUBLISHER: (Amazon Digital Services)
THE GIRL NOBODY WANTS- A SHOCKING TRUE STORY OF CHILD ABUSE IN IRELAND. 2012 by Lily O’Brien
PUBLISHER: Troubador Publishing Ltd (February 1, 2012)
ISBN-10: 1780880332
ISBN-13: 978-1780880334
SHE WASN’T ALLOWED TO GIGGLE. 2011 by Lavinia Thompson
PUBLISHER: Self-published (September 28, 2011)
ASIN: B005QTX282
CHILD MOLESTATION STORIES: VOICES OF SURVIVORS OF CHILD ABUSE (MOLESTATION, RAPE AND INCEST) 2010 by Lynn Daugherty
PUBLISHER: Cleanan Press Inc. (January 28, 2011
ASIN: B004LGRSAE
INVISIBLE TEARS: THE ABUSE THE REBELLION THE SURVIVAL AGAINST ALL ODDS. 2010 by Abigail Lawrence
PUBLISHER: Author house (April 19, 2010)
ISBN-10: 1449070027
ISBN-13: 978-1449070021
MEMOIRS OF A STRANGE LITTLE GIRL. 2007 by Sara McGrath
PUBLISHER: Sara McGrath (December 20, 2007)
ASIN: B001I912SG
Amazon Digital Services.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>SCHIZOPHRENIA<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
CLINICAL HANDBOOK OF SCHIZOPRENIA. 2011 by Kim T. Mueser PhD and Dilip V. Jeste MD
PUBLISHER: The Guilford Press (January 31, 2011)
ISBN-10: 1609182375
ISBN-13: 978-16091872373
GETTING YOUR LIFE BACK WHEN YOU HAVE SCHIZOPHRENIA. 2002 by Roberta Temes
PUBLISHER: New Harbinger Publications (January 10, 2002)
ISBN-10: 1572242736
ISBN-13 978-1572242739
SZ MAGAZINE: current and still publishing.
A MAGAZINE ABOUT THOSE THAT ARE AND THOSE THAT KNOW SCHIZOPHRENICS:
( I do this in broken links. Whenever I do add links, it shrinks the text of entries that follow)
VISIT : WWW (DOT) MENTALWELLNESSTODAY (DOT) COM.
AN: I have borrowed, and I use that term loosely, several copies of this magazine when waiting for my Psychiatrist appointments. Fascinating reading. Though I do not know any that suffer from SZ, or know of anyone that would admit to knowing or having a relationship with one, I kind of like having some knowledge of this subject.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>INTIMIDATION<<<<<<<<<<<<<
WINNING THROUGH INTIMIDATION. 1975 by Robert J. Ringer (author), Jack Medoff (illustrator)
PUBLISHER: Funk and Wagnalls Co; (August 1975)
ISBN-10: 0308102290
ISBN-13: 978-0309102293
AN: I was 13 when I read this book. Courtesy of my sister Holly. I so remember the chapter titled ” NIGYSOB:” <now I got you, son of a bitch> 37 years later and I still remember the principals of this book. My opinion: a must read.
TO BE OR NOT TO BE INTIMIDATED? THAT IS THE QUESTION. 2003 by Robert J. Ringer
PUBLISHER: M. Evans & Company (December 18, 2003)
ISBN-10: 1590770358
ISBN-13: 978-1590770351
THE SECRET POWER OF WORDS. 2011 by Roy Masters.
PUBLISHER: Foundation of Human Understanding (August 3, 2011)
ASIN: B005FYYEGW
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>SELF HELP BOOKS<<<<<<<<<<<
TAKE CONTROL OF YOUR LIFE: SELF HELP FOR DEPRESSION, ANXIETY DISORDERS, CONFIDENCE, SUCCESS AND MORE. 2011 by Dan Jones
PUBLISHER: LULU . COM (April 8, 2011)
ISBN-10: 1447546342
ISBN-13: 978-1447546344
CHICKEN SOUP FOR THE SOUL. 2001 by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen
PUBLISHER: HCI (July 1, 2001)
ISBN-10: 1558749209
ISBN-13: 978-15587
(THIS BOOK WENT HUGE! MANY COPIES AVAILIBLE FROM MANY SOURCES)
FRIGIDITY: AN INTELLECTUAL HISTORY (GENDERS AND SEXUALITIES IN HISTORY) 2012. By Peter Cryle and Alison Moore
PUBLISHER: Palgrave McMillan (January 17, 2012)
ISBN-10: 0230303455
ISBN-13: 978-0230303454
FRIGIDITY IN WOMAN: IN RELATION TO HER LOVE LIFE. 1953 AND 1965 (volume two) by Wilhelm Stekel
PUBLISHER: Vision Press: first UK edition (1953)
IMPOTENCE & FRIGIDITY. 1963 by Donald W. Hastings MD
PUBLISHER: Little, Brown & Co (3-printing) (1963)
>>>>>>>PSYCHOPATHY<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
WITHOUT CONSCIENCE: THE DISTRUBING WORLD OF THE PSYCHOPATHS AMOUNG US. 1999 By Robert D. Hare.
PUBLISHER: The Guilford Press; 1 edition (January 8, 1999)
ISBN-10 1572304510
ISBN-13 978-1572304512
<<<<this one was recommended by over 14 people. I have not read it yet.>>>>
MASK OF SANITY. 1982 by Hervey Cleckley
PUBLISHER: Plume; revised (May 1, 1982
ISBN-10: 0452253411
ISBN-13: 978-0452253414
<There is a PDF out there for this book> FANTASTIC READING.
THE SOCIOPATH NEXTDOOR. 2006 By Martha Stout
PUBLISHER: Three Rivers Press. (march 14, 2006)
ISBN-10: 0767915828
ISBN-13: 978-0767915823
________________________________________________________
PSYCHOLOGY TODAY MAGAZINE: ONLINE AND SUBSCRIPTION.
Fantastic source of information on both self help and the vast topography that is the human mind.
www (dot) psychologytodat (dot) com
_____________________________________________________________________________________
WE HERE AT PSYCHOPATHY: ANOTHER LIFE HOPE YOU CHECK THE ABOVE OUT.
The above is the list that the people of Psychopathy: Another Life have thrown down.
It is with sincere thoughts and hopes that people gain knowledge from using these books as guides, aids and useful information for the help of others in need. And maybe yourselves.
Mind-felt thanks to: Jonathon, Nancy, Donut Bitch, Sid, Amy, Aimee, Lynette-Sue, Peter the B-man, Kristie, Angie, Frankie, Johan, Kreigs-Dominion, Esperanza, Danya, Irina, Maarit, Adalgisa, Hans, Jorunn, Elise, LA-GirlZ, Barberton Punk Moms, UCLA Vandettes, MIT Midgets with HUGE FAT HEADS!, The IRA (yeah, you heard of us…), DOPH (daughters of Patty Hearst), and Jesus. (probably pronounced Hey-sues.)
Special thanks to Abigail and Catherine. They were my blogs firsts contributors. They sent me the first emails, stories and reference books. It was both Abigail and Catherine that pushed me to post this section.
To the new reader: check out the books listed here. Make a difference, learn much and most of all, GROW!
-Mark William Darus
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Songs that powered me to write
What kept me on a constant North: Songs and inspirations that made a difference.
I was asked more than a few times what kept me posting, following some True Northern star course. Knowing this subject being both unpopular and vastly dark in both meaning and its sheer emotional bearing. I go into points that most what neither wish to face nor wish to explore.
I simply wrote what I have from some imbedded sense of going for and studying what makes us both human, and more importantly, what makes humans so incredibly different from the animals that share their ever dwindling area with us.
I do this with no emotion.
Emotion clouds most issues, based on both background and attitudes personally developed over years of life.
From ER’s due to my dads heart attacks, I grew up as a child, with older sisters, learning a sort of gallows humor. Like these scenarios and others so concerned about loved ones: Wow, he got rose thorn stuck in him. My dad has had his 8th heart attack. I am sure he’ll live. You mean this happened 36 hours ago and his swelled like bratwurst? No sweat. He can live without that finger. Don’t believe them. It will grow back…
I learned these things by age thirteen. Small wonder when others parents died I failed in giving them comfort and aid they so deserved. How can one do this with a lack of emotion?
On another hand: how could I give points to the not be fucked over by sisters and brothers going for inheritance
How fucking cold is that? That I could say something like that to someone so obviously in pain, pretty damn bad.
My dads brothers and sisters paid for my mom and dads anniversary. To My sister Holly’s’ credit, she did say, at maybe 20 yrs of age, that something was wrong with this. They really could not stand us and mostly hated mom: expect Marty. Holly knew this.
She was right and as sharp as an uppercut to the chin. THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG HERE.
A decade or so later, Holly, through the clear and sincere balancing of books on dads part, told holly and us that his brother Joe admitted to this: It was with dads inheritance from his moms passing that made their anniversary party possible. In short. MY MOM AND DAD, WITHOUT THEIR KNOWING PAID FOR THEIR OWN ANNIVERSARY PARTY? Such good Catholics they were.
The Methodists weren’t much better.
What kept me on a constant North: Songs and inspirations that made a difference.
I was asked more than a few times what kept me posting, following some True Northern star course. Knowing this subject being both unpopular and vastly dark in both meaning and its sheer emotional bearing. I go into points that most what neither wish to face nor wish to explore.
I simply wrote what I have from some imbedded sense of going for and studying what makes us both human, and more importantly, what makes humans so incredibly different from the animals that share their ever dwindling area with us.
I do this with no emotion.
Emotion clouds most issues, based on both background and attitudes personally developed over years of life.
From ER’s due to my dads heart attacks, I grew up as a child, with older sisters, learning a sort of gallows humor. Like these scenarios and others so concerned about loved ones: Wow, he got rose thorn stuck in him. My dad has had his 8th heart attack. I am sure he’ll live. You mean this happened 36 hours ago and his swelled like bratwurst? No sweat. He can live without that finger. Don’t believe them. It will grow back…
I learned these things by age thirteen. Small wonder when others parents died I failed in giving them comfort and aid they so deserved. How can one do this with a lack of emotion?
On another hand: how could I give points to the not be fucked over by sisters and brothers going for inheritance
How fucking cold is that? That I could say something like that to someone so obviously in pain, pretty damn bad.
My dads brothers and sisters paid for my mom and dads anniversary. To My sister Holly’s’ credit, she did say, at maybe 20 yrs of age, that something was wrong with this. They really could not stand us and mostly hated mom: expect Marty. Holly knew this.
She was right and as sharp as an uppercut to the chin. THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG HERE.
A decade or so later, Holly, through the clear and sincere balancing of books on dads part, told holly and us that his brother Joe admitted to this: It was with dads inheritance from his moms passing that made their anniversary party possible. In short. MY MOM AND DAD, WITHOUT THEIR KNOWING PAID FOR THEIR OWN ANNIVERSARY PARTY? Such good Catholics they were.
The Methodists weren’t much better. They<screwed below when I say thy>
thy also screwed Holly when they asked her to leave as a mentor in the UMYF: United Methodist Youth Fellowship. Why? Something about car washes, fundraising or her handling of a situation. A girl of about 15 started her period at the house of a fellow counselor, Shearing I think his name was. She handled this cleaning, by the standards that were then, professionally. . This girl and though I clearly remember her name, wore white pants. Holly and the other guy handled this.
They fixed this girls horror. None of us kids of 13-14 laughed at her like some Stephen king novel. The blue-haired ladies of the BROOKLYN MEMORIAL UNITED METHODIST CHURCH had a different view.
Through this, I truly believe my sister Holly lost her faith in the United Methodist Church.
Can’t say I blamed her. She found no church after this, and did not talk about it much
At this church I was known as Heidis brother…
Not soon to follow, I left that place.
I dived into Psych books. Why did those of religion and faith of iant proportions do such things? Why did their god, Jesus, father of unconditional love, so held dear to their hearts, think my sister holly was so bad? She stood up to them, said what she felt, and God forbid, asked questions.
Religion, though how I tried amongst many faiths of many realms of Christianity and that of my Jesus’ father, The Jews, could not find some home and feel comfortable with.
Some learned of lives might say I felt some personal inadequacy, not living up and so forth.
I was fucking twelve or thirteen when these things came to pass.
Sure, I so failed. I should’ve wasted some school. Right?
I went docile for many years. I stepped in the world of poetry fiction. A woman named Sue taught me there was more, introducing me to Monte Python and Stephen King,.
KNOW THIS ALL OF Y0U! This woman named Sue, thought enough of me, to read to me, both phones and drive-in theatres the novel of The Stand by Stephen King. This woman fired me like no other. Taught me such things about smells, backgrounds and where did your characters come from, GIVE SOME BACKGROUND, DAMNIT.
But what inspired me?
These songs held me as I started my BLOG:
Their close rhythms ,melodies and emotions felt when they were recorded, encompass me. Many decibels and thumping bass, cut into me like placing your hand appendage into a band saw.
I cannot feel,but I can sense what those around me feel, respond to them, not much different than Spock on Star Trek, in his way, comforting Captain Kirk.
Again, I do not feel what most of you do. No regret, remorse.
The songs that worked me as I work My Blog: Most of these may surprise you:
NOTE this: some of these tunes came about from readers around the world this blog has hit.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MB7lt36u-w8&ob=av2e
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iWIADZKU9dw
This next tune followed me over radio. Causing senses to leave the skin that is us via goose pimples.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LvdLovAaYzM
Step by step, fall apart, the battle wages on, for Toy Soldiers.
Bit by bit, never win, we fall apart, we all fall down,
Battle wages on, like toy soldies.
From Bryan Ferry, Roxy Music, showing me this song fails in the real world. Emotions fail.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UH1CMCtV4to&ob=av2n
Getting to other shadows that helped me to keep on writing, this tune:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o3lBF2h-Pl0
I am lost, and the shadows keep on fading.
Finland hears you: Take this from out land, Mark. Keep this web world going:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PFaK7UFGcNo
Thanks Abigail: great tune and you posted this on my wall. face book:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGuJ3tvKgo8
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AXSvSXz18K4&feature=fvst
this one hold big:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZA2q5CxLDm4
This in my first entry to for this night
I was asked more than a few times what kept me posting, following some True Northern star course. Knowing this subject being both unpopular and vastly dark in both meaning and its sheer emotional bearing. I go into points that most what neither wish to face nor wish to explore.
I simply wrote what I have from some imbedded sense of going for and studying what makes us both human, and more importantly, what makes humans so incredibly different from the animals that share their ever dwindling area with us.
I do this with no emotion.
Emotion clouds most issues, based on both background and attitudes personally developed over years of life.
From ER’s due to my dads heart attacks, I grew up as a child, with older sisters, learning a sort of gallows humor. Like these scenarios and others so concerned about loved ones: Wow, he got rose thorn stuck in him. My dad has had his 8th heart attack. I am sure he’ll live. You mean this happened 36 hours ago and his swelled like bratwurst? No sweat. He can live without that finger. Don’t believe them. It will grow back…
I learned these things by age thirteen. Small wonder when others parents died I failed in giving them comfort and aid they so deserved. How can one do this with a lack of emotion?
On another hand: how could I give points to the not be fucked over by sisters and brothers going for inheritance
How fucking cold is that? That I could say something like that to someone so obviously in pain, pretty damn bad.
My dads brothers and sisters paid for my mom and dads anniversary. To My sister Holly’s’ credit, she did say, at maybe 20 yrs of age, that something was wrong with this. They really could not stand us and mostly hated mom: expect Marty. Holly knew this.
She was right and as sharp as an uppercut to the chin. THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG HERE.
A decade or so later, Holly, through the clear and sincere balancing of books on dads part, told holly and us that his brother Joe admitted to this: It was with dads inheritance from his moms passing that made their anniversary party possible. In short. MY MOM AND DAD, WITHOUT THEIR KNOWING PAID FOR THEIR OWN ANNIVERSARY PARTY? Such good Catholics they were.
The Methodists weren’t much better.
What kept me on a constant North: Songs and inspirations that made a difference.
I was asked more than a few times what kept me posting, following some True Northern star course. Knowing this subject being both unpopular and vastly dark in both meaning and its sheer emotional bearing. I go into points that most what neither wish to face nor wish to explore.
I simply wrote what I have from some imbedded sense of going for and studying what makes us both human, and more importantly, what makes humans so incredibly different from the animals that share their ever dwindling area with us.
I do this with no emotion.
Emotion clouds most issues, based on both background and attitudes personally developed over years of life.
From ER’s due to my dads heart attacks, I grew up as a child, with older sisters, learning a sort of gallows humor. Like these scenarios and others so concerned about loved ones: Wow, he got rose thorn stuck in him. My dad has had his 8th heart attack. I am sure he’ll live. You mean this happened 36 hours ago and his swelled like bratwurst? No sweat. He can live without that finger. Don’t believe them. It will grow back…
I learned these things by age thirteen. Small wonder when others parents died I failed in giving them comfort and aid they so deserved. How can one do this with a lack of emotion?
On another hand: how could I give points to the not be fucked over by sisters and brothers going for inheritance
How fucking cold is that? That I could say something like that to someone so obviously in pain, pretty damn bad.
My dads brothers and sisters paid for my mom and dads anniversary. To My sister Holly’s’ credit, she did say, at maybe 20 yrs of age, that something was wrong with this. They really could not stand us and mostly hated mom: expect Marty. Holly knew this.
She was right and as sharp as an uppercut to the chin. THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG HERE.
A decade or so later, Holly, through the clear and sincere balancing of books on dads part, told holly and us that his brother Joe admitted to this: It was with dads inheritance from his moms passing that made their anniversary party possible. In short. MY MOM AND DAD, WITHOUT THEIR KNOWING PAID FOR THEIR OWN ANNIVERSARY PARTY? Such good Catholics they were.
The Methodists weren’t much better. They<screwed below when I say thy>
thy also screwed Holly when they asked her to leave as a mentor in the UMYF: United Methodist Youth Fellowship. Why? Something about car washes, fundraising or her handling of a situation. A girl of about 15 started her period at the house of a fellow counselor, Shearing I think his name was. She handled this cleaning, by the standards that were then, professionally. . This girl and though I clearly remember her name, wore white pants. Holly and the other guy handled this.
Through this, I truly believe my sister Holly lost her faith in the United Methodist Church.
Can’t say I blamed her. She found no church after this, and did not talk about it much
At this church I was known as Heidis brother…
I dived into Psych books. Why did those of religion and faith of iant proportions do such things? Why did their god, Jesus, father of unconditional love, so held dear to their hearts, think my sister holly was so bad? She stood up to them, said what she felt, and God forbid, asked questions.
Religion, though how I tried amongst many faiths of many realms of Christianity and that of my Jesus’ father, The Jews, could not find some home and feel comfortable with.
Some learned of lives might say I felt some personal inadequacy, not living up and so forth.
I was fucking twelve or thirteen when these things came to pass.
Sure, I so failed. I should’ve wasted some school. Right?
I went docile for many years. I stepped in the world of poetry fiction. A woman named Sue taught me there was more, introducing me to Monte Python and Stephen King,.
KNOW THIS ALL OF Y0U! This woman named Sue, thought enough of me, to read to me, both phones and drive-in theatres the novel of The Stand by Stephen King. This woman fired me like no other. Taught me such things about smells, backgrounds and where did your characters come from, GIVE SOME BACKGROUND, DAMNIT.
But what inspired me?
These songs held me as I started my BLOG:
Their close rhythms ,melodies and emotions felt when they were recorded, encompass me. Many decibels and thumping bass, cut into me like placing your hand appendage into a band saw.
I cannot feel,but I can sense what those around me feel, respond to them, not much different than Spock on Star Trek, in his way, comforting Captain Kirk.
Again, I do not feel what most of you do. No regret, remorse.
The songs that worked me as I work My Blog: Most of these may surprise you:
NOTE this: some of these tunes came about from readers around the world this blog has hit.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iWIADZKU9dw
This next tune followed me over radio. Causing senses to leave the skin that is us via goose pimples.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LvdLovAaYzM
Step by step, fall apart, the battle wages on, for Toy Soldiers.
Bit by bit, never win, we fall apart, we all fall down,
Battle wages on, like toy soldies.
From Bryan Ferry, Roxy Music, showing me this song fails in the real world. Emotions fail.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UH1CMCtV4to&ob=av2n
Getting to other shadows that helped me to keep on writing, this tune:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o3lBF2h-Pl0
I am lost, and the shadows keep on fading.
Finland hears you: Take this from out land, Mark. Keep this web world going:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PFaK7UFGcNo
Thanks Abigail: great tune and you posted this on my wall. face book:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGuJ3tvKgo8
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AXSvSXz18K4&feature=fvst
this one hold big:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZA2q5CxLDm4
This in my first entry to for this night
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Poetry: Art with Words: Emotions and their lack of.
The Poetry Contributions: Pain and Pleasure.
This section of The NV-P Blog contains poetry from the many submissions I have been honored to receive over the last month and a half via emails. They span a wide range of emotions, and their lack of, from several perspectives. Unlike like stories and comments, these convey captured thoughts that undoubtedly mattered to their authors, and hopefully, will catch an audience by them that experience and gain knowledge through their abstract nature.
I have one of my own placed here. Having written over three hundred poems since the twelfth grade, I felt obligated to throw mine into the mix. I will use an alias. I do not wish for credit in this regard.
I have written poetry since I took a creative writing class in high school: Lincoln West, Cleveland Ohio, grad of 1981. I thank a great man that inspired me as well constantly encouraged me to continue and hammer out thoughts onto paper. To put the mind onto black and white and let others sort it out. Art with Words, he called it.
Huge thanks to teacher/mentor, Mr. Merhaut. He opened a door in my life, and mind, that never closed.
If he is still alive, and reads this, I am sorry for the time I punched out and knocked the idiot headfirst into the blackboard for putting gum into my long hair. I only saw red. Then I made the dickhead see red when he came to. Looking back, it wasn’t called assault then, for that I am truly grateful.
Your comment? “write me either a short, highly detailed story or a vivid poem of what you saw versus what you did.”
I gave him both.
I served two detentions for laying that fucker out. Sure, he was much bigger than I, by about a 8 inches in height and 100 lbs in weight. It was his largeness that made a fool of him.
I also got about 4 dates as a result of girls offering to show me how to get gum out of hair without massive chops at it.
Mr. Norman Merhaut: I cannot thank you enough.
Into the breach we voyage, with either eagerness or loathing, let us go forth.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wanting you:
So bold, so kind,
You took me to place
Of splendid pleasure as our bodies
Twisted
Contorted
Voices screaming
In divine ecstasy
Later shrieks of agony
As you burned my wings
And used me in a way
I so loved and hated losing
I gave you money
Trying to hold onto you like an addict needing
Never ending fixes
I took you into my body
Getting wet with the thought of you
Hours before we
Touched
Connected
Sweaty in writhing passion
You used me
And I miss you still,
Evelyn Masters-Perry
Rhode Island 2009
_____________________________________________________________________________________
And you paid for the gas:
You took me for the fastest of rides
As I climbed into your car,
Trees passing by in a blur
Speeding through the parks
Of huge trees,
Flashing sunlight thru their breaks
Blinding me so completely
The brightest of greens
Radiant sunlight through new born leaves
Vibrant shades of contrasting colors
Miles clicking as minds get closer
You took me into your body
I took you into my soul
Heat so devastating
California brush fire
Wiping out all rational thoughts
You clamped yourself around me
Tighter and tighter you gripped me
Finger nails tearing into my flesh
Blood trickling down my flanks
Sensations so complete
We came in unison
Laying sweaty and smiling
I left you the next morning
To never called you back,
Keith Wakeman-Guiffria 1994
Lakewood Ohio
______________________________________________________________________________
I, too, have teeth:
He trashed my gentle being
They thought he was good 4-me
Best friends wanting to make
My train wreck appear before them
To laugh and talk about it
Later over drinks
High-end Black Russians
White Russians
Baileys Irish Crème Coffees
Some friends they were
They knew what he was
Psychopath man about town
Sacrificing me to him
Just because he fed them drinks
Fed their addictions
As they indulged his
With me.
I have something waiting
These friends never to see
Things heading for their lives
I am now bitch
I too have teeth.
Gina White-****** 2012
East Helena Montana
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lost in your eyes, lies and your thighs:
You came on like the zephyr winds
Caught my sails
Blowing me somewhere
Taking me for a tonsil ride
Allowing me to do
Go
And shoot
You swallowed
So lost in your eyes
Lies
And your thighs
I gave you everything
You asked,
I gave
You suggested
I gave
You asked me to fuck you like no other
I gave
Was trapped
Perversions of sex
Better than the best
Nocturnal emissions
With Hollywood stars
No comparison to you
Blank checks
Debit cards and pin
To keep you by my side
I blew off friends of decades
Family paled in no time
You kept sucking me
By mouth and cunt
Faking noises of fulfillment
Sucking me
And I
Gave
Gave
Craved more and more
Lost in your eyes, lies and your thighs
Building me up
Asking for help
Telling me I was your best
Gas bill is due
Huge cock via text
How you cannot wait
Car payment is late
Meet me at Bayshire Cemetary
Love amongst the dead
Kinky
Mortgage is two months in arrears
I can help
And I did
So lost
In her eyes
Lies
And her thighs
She disappeared as fast as she came
As fast I had cum
I lost myself
Lost most of myself
Lost all who loved me
Counselor asked me
What would you do different
Not a damn thing
He said he could not help me
I left his office
Cold winter winds closed around me
So wanting one like her
So wishing to be sucked
Matthew Murphy 1998
FrankFort Kansas
________________________________________________________________________
I have a bullet with your name on it:
I fell for your bullshit
I fell for your lines
I fell
For you
So much talk
Flowers you gave
Sent them to me at work
You built your place
As coworkers were impressed
More blind than I
Cardboards friends I believed
I became so lost
Oceans beckoning my tiny boat
Further sunrises yet unseen
I’d follow your heading
To climax on distant shores
Took me to 5-stars
Made me a lady of desire
We’d coast
Rise rhythmically
Peak
Gasp desires fulfilled
Leaves changing color
Seasons pass
I am so asleep
Something grows within me
Test is positive
We’d talked of marriage
But you needed to right yourself
Financially
I helped you
When I told you of the dr’s visit
You left in 14 hours
I am about to have our child
You are gone
So coldly I look back
I should’ve known
I have a bullet with your name on it
Justification guides me
I gave you my savings
5 grand
Hopes of clearing you
Debts to be covered
So we could wed.
I bought a gun
One set of bullets
They carry your name
Annie Oakly 2011
Aleysk Russia
________________________________________________________________________
Welcome to the World:
I told you I would use you
I told you I could care less about your family and friends
I told you I’d suck you dry
Being drunk
You gave yourself to me
Because you could strut like
Animals on the Learning Channel
Sorry, dumbfuck
Just give me money
That’s what I want
Wear a strong rubber
I will take you
For everything you got
You so begged for more.
A blowjob
A latex barrier
Did you think that meant anything?
Thinking satisfied
Tossing spent cover out the window of brothers Camaro
Leaving drips on the glass
You went wet
I didn’t
But I sucked you
I used you as I said I would
A fool and his money
Sucked my clit honey
Took me into your mouth
A mouthful of my juices
My flavors
Moaning for more
You so took me into you
Never once thinking of tomorrows
Highest order of stiff cocked males
Dicks as brains that control you
Thinking of yourself first
Never thinking of yourself
In future stance
Defenseless
Your future is so limited now
time bomb growing within you
What part of rubber
You entered my pussy
Did you let your guard slip?
I gave you a present
Darling
When you took in my precious juices
Did you lose your mind?
I told you to put on a Trojan
You obliged so freely
But you went south
And sucked and licked me
I never asked you
I even said you shouldn’t
Welcome to the world of AIDS
Hope you got your bags packed…………….
Christina ******** 2008
Fiuggi Italy
________________________________________________________________________
AN: I believe these poems to be a good sample of what I have received thus far. They cover a vast range of human experience.
I will leave the critiques to you, the reader, to comment on them.
Those outside the USA, humble apologies, please use this as a guide/ help to make things easier on me.
-Mark William Darus 2012/04/29
http://translation.paralink.com/
This section of The NV-P Blog contains poetry from the many submissions I have been honored to receive over the last month and a half via emails. They span a wide range of emotions, and their lack of, from several perspectives. Unlike like stories and comments, these convey captured thoughts that undoubtedly mattered to their authors, and hopefully, will catch an audience by them that experience and gain knowledge through their abstract nature.
I have one of my own placed here. Having written over three hundred poems since the twelfth grade, I felt obligated to throw mine into the mix. I will use an alias. I do not wish for credit in this regard.
I have written poetry since I took a creative writing class in high school: Lincoln West, Cleveland Ohio, grad of 1981. I thank a great man that inspired me as well constantly encouraged me to continue and hammer out thoughts onto paper. To put the mind onto black and white and let others sort it out. Art with Words, he called it.
Huge thanks to teacher/mentor, Mr. Merhaut. He opened a door in my life, and mind, that never closed.
If he is still alive, and reads this, I am sorry for the time I punched out and knocked the idiot headfirst into the blackboard for putting gum into my long hair. I only saw red. Then I made the dickhead see red when he came to. Looking back, it wasn’t called assault then, for that I am truly grateful.
Your comment? “write me either a short, highly detailed story or a vivid poem of what you saw versus what you did.”
I gave him both.
I served two detentions for laying that fucker out. Sure, he was much bigger than I, by about a 8 inches in height and 100 lbs in weight. It was his largeness that made a fool of him.
I also got about 4 dates as a result of girls offering to show me how to get gum out of hair without massive chops at it.
Mr. Norman Merhaut: I cannot thank you enough.
Into the breach we voyage, with either eagerness or loathing, let us go forth.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wanting you:
So bold, so kind,
You took me to place
Of splendid pleasure as our bodies
Twisted
Contorted
Voices screaming
In divine ecstasy
Later shrieks of agony
As you burned my wings
And used me in a way
I so loved and hated losing
I gave you money
Trying to hold onto you like an addict needing
Never ending fixes
I took you into my body
Getting wet with the thought of you
Hours before we
Touched
Connected
Sweaty in writhing passion
You used me
And I miss you still,
Evelyn Masters-Perry
Rhode Island 2009
_____________________________________________________________________________________
And you paid for the gas:
You took me for the fastest of rides
As I climbed into your car,
Trees passing by in a blur
Speeding through the parks
Of huge trees,
Flashing sunlight thru their breaks
Blinding me so completely
The brightest of greens
Radiant sunlight through new born leaves
Vibrant shades of contrasting colors
Miles clicking as minds get closer
You took me into your body
I took you into my soul
Heat so devastating
California brush fire
Wiping out all rational thoughts
You clamped yourself around me
Tighter and tighter you gripped me
Finger nails tearing into my flesh
Blood trickling down my flanks
Sensations so complete
We came in unison
Laying sweaty and smiling
I left you the next morning
To never called you back,
Keith Wakeman-Guiffria 1994
Lakewood Ohio
______________________________________________________________________________
I, too, have teeth:
He trashed my gentle being
They thought he was good 4-me
Best friends wanting to make
My train wreck appear before them
To laugh and talk about it
Later over drinks
High-end Black Russians
White Russians
Baileys Irish Crème Coffees
Some friends they were
They knew what he was
Psychopath man about town
Sacrificing me to him
Just because he fed them drinks
Fed their addictions
As they indulged his
With me.
I have something waiting
These friends never to see
Things heading for their lives
I am now bitch
I too have teeth.
Gina White-****** 2012
East Helena Montana
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lost in your eyes, lies and your thighs:
You came on like the zephyr winds
Caught my sails
Blowing me somewhere
Taking me for a tonsil ride
Allowing me to do
Go
And shoot
You swallowed
So lost in your eyes
Lies
And your thighs
I gave you everything
You asked,
I gave
You suggested
I gave
You asked me to fuck you like no other
I gave
Was trapped
Perversions of sex
Better than the best
Nocturnal emissions
With Hollywood stars
No comparison to you
Blank checks
Debit cards and pin
To keep you by my side
I blew off friends of decades
Family paled in no time
You kept sucking me
By mouth and cunt
Faking noises of fulfillment
Sucking me
And I
Gave
Gave
Craved more and more
Lost in your eyes, lies and your thighs
Building me up
Asking for help
Telling me I was your best
Gas bill is due
Huge cock via text
How you cannot wait
Car payment is late
Meet me at Bayshire Cemetary
Love amongst the dead
Kinky
Mortgage is two months in arrears
I can help
And I did
So lost
In her eyes
Lies
And her thighs
She disappeared as fast as she came
As fast I had cum
I lost myself
Lost most of myself
Lost all who loved me
Counselor asked me
What would you do different
Not a damn thing
He said he could not help me
I left his office
Cold winter winds closed around me
So wanting one like her
So wishing to be sucked
Matthew Murphy 1998
FrankFort Kansas
________________________________________________________________________
I have a bullet with your name on it:
I fell for your bullshit
I fell for your lines
I fell
For you
So much talk
Flowers you gave
Sent them to me at work
You built your place
As coworkers were impressed
More blind than I
Cardboards friends I believed
I became so lost
Oceans beckoning my tiny boat
Further sunrises yet unseen
I’d follow your heading
To climax on distant shores
Took me to 5-stars
Made me a lady of desire
We’d coast
Rise rhythmically
Peak
Gasp desires fulfilled
Leaves changing color
Seasons pass
I am so asleep
Something grows within me
Test is positive
We’d talked of marriage
But you needed to right yourself
Financially
I helped you
When I told you of the dr’s visit
You left in 14 hours
I am about to have our child
You are gone
So coldly I look back
I should’ve known
I have a bullet with your name on it
Justification guides me
I gave you my savings
5 grand
Hopes of clearing you
Debts to be covered
So we could wed.
I bought a gun
One set of bullets
They carry your name
Annie Oakly 2011
Aleysk Russia
________________________________________________________________________
Welcome to the World:
I told you I would use you
I told you I could care less about your family and friends
I told you I’d suck you dry
Being drunk
You gave yourself to me
Because you could strut like
Animals on the Learning Channel
Sorry, dumbfuck
Just give me money
That’s what I want
Wear a strong rubber
I will take you
For everything you got
You so begged for more.
A blowjob
A latex barrier
Did you think that meant anything?
Thinking satisfied
Tossing spent cover out the window of brothers Camaro
Leaving drips on the glass
You went wet
I didn’t
But I sucked you
I used you as I said I would
A fool and his money
Sucked my clit honey
Took me into your mouth
A mouthful of my juices
My flavors
Moaning for more
You so took me into you
Never once thinking of tomorrows
Highest order of stiff cocked males
Dicks as brains that control you
Thinking of yourself first
Never thinking of yourself
In future stance
Defenseless
Your future is so limited now
time bomb growing within you
What part of rubber
You entered my pussy
Did you let your guard slip?
I gave you a present
Darling
When you took in my precious juices
Did you lose your mind?
I told you to put on a Trojan
You obliged so freely
But you went south
And sucked and licked me
I never asked you
I even said you shouldn’t
Welcome to the world of AIDS
Hope you got your bags packed…………….
Christina ******** 2008
Fiuggi Italy
________________________________________________________________________
AN: I believe these poems to be a good sample of what I have received thus far. They cover a vast range of human experience.
I will leave the critiques to you, the reader, to comment on them.
Those outside the USA, humble apologies, please use this as a guide/ help to make things easier on me.
-Mark William Darus 2012/04/29
http://translation.paralink.com/
Catherine: Shiny Blue Tool Box II: last try
Catherine’s Story: Last attempt at Emotions.
Part II: The Catherine Stories.
“ONLY”
Titled by Catherine:
(this parts title comes from Catherine <author of Where’s My Fuckin’ Pliers> who
suggested listening to the Anthrax song: Only. Link not posted because it shrinks the font size for some reason>
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Last time I thought I felt love for a man was quite a while ago. I remember it fondly. I also remember how it ended.
It was my last ditch attempt to feel, have some emotion for another and try to make myself like the fuckin’ norm in this sad society. I was trying to be a part of this 96% of this population Mark talks about. Yeah, I checked his stats and according to a psychologist named Hare, Cleckley and several others, proved true.
96% not psychopathic. And only the slightest fraction of us go on killing sprees. Like .1 of that percent. And to think we nonviolent make up over 12 million people here! Fuck!
We must be the only goddamned minority in this country that can’t get recognized or get foodstamps, federal aide or job preferences over everyone else.
We may be fantastic manipulators, serious ass intimidators, cunning and self sufficient, but what does that have to do with how the USA handles minorities? Tell me, are we getting a short dick to reach an orgasm with or what? For the testosterone filled, and sexually worthless males here, some frigid bitch, probably your wife, that can’t even utter: ‘oww, baby! Ah!’ during sex.
Save this for another shitty ass rant. Sorry, man. Tangent gone mad. My bad.
His name was Cliff. I met him at some mixer coworkers took me to. He seemed okay enough. Good job, nice hair and not overly extroverted. He gave me a crapload of bullshit lines I didn’t fall and called his ass on every word.
He so cratered when nailed.
Over a few weeks, we got close. Closer than I had ever got with any man.
I so hated my fuckin’ father. That shithead, pussybitch, cunt, deserved to die, My mother, what mother, fuck her! Glad she kicked too.
Cliff and I went to parks and strolled, watched sunsets, sunrises, had what I thought the nicest of lives together. I thought I might have even felt love for this cockwad, thoughts of marriage, school girl stupid fantasy.
Fuck him.
He was my knight in rusty armor.
I told him my past. Gave him my background and this shit I went through. Details, what happened, the pain I felt every cock-sucking day. He’d hug me, tell me it was in the past. We must get on and go forward. He’d be there for me.
He told me he loved me and I believed this. His eyes, brown and clear. His embrace, so surrounding and caring. His words so sincere.
Once I told him, if only he could see my past as I did. If only he could feel what I had felt then.
If only.
Only.
We made love. It was sweet, tender in its connection and rhythm. We joined, my heart climbed higher with this man than any before him. We drifted off to sleep. I fell into dreamland with a smile I had never known.
The next morning he told me he was married and didn’t want to hurt her. He felt so guilty. So bad and crushed by what he‘d done with me. This mother fucker even had the nerve to say, please don’t think bad of me.
He then asked the most miserable question any dumbass male could pass across cunt scented lips:
“what do you think of me?”
What did I think? Oh yeah, big question there.
Thoughts of my folks crashed on me.
I thought of my father.
I thought of my mother.
I then told him I’d make us breakfast.
I made eggs and bacon and sausage. Toast and coffee.
I treated him royal.
He came to eat when I told him it was done, his silly ass came to my breakfast nook naked. Limp dick just hanging out there, smile on his face.
“glad you’re so good about this, honey,” he said. Caught him by the corner of my eye. His smirk, so fuckin’ bold. He thought he pulled one over on me.
My shinny blue toolbox was on the counter.
Before his flapping dick knew what hit him, I slashed his cock as I gave him his plate of breakfast.
Yeah, bloody pork might not be good, but it is your blood, right dickhead?
He looked shocked. I often wondered why. I could not have been the first women to try something like this. How could I be so bold to try this? Didn’t the Bobbitt incident happen? Didn’t Hillary get fucked over by the President of the United States? Weren’t men excluded from the baseball Hall of Fame for womanizing decades later than what they did and after they put their names on the walls of the place?
As he looked at his free flowing cock, he yelled: “I’ll call the cops!!!”
Calmly, still holding the ten inch butchers knife by my side, I calmly said to him. “so, you wanna this public? Make your company know this? Make your ignorant wife know what you are? Go for it! Here’s my fuckin’ cell! Give it your best shot!”
Feeling my almost lost emotionless, psychopathic abilities flood back with a massive vengeance, I added coldly: “I want at least 750 a month, or I will talk.”
Dumbass says: ‘I’ll deny everything.”
I had his house number. I had his work number. I had him by his tiny, pulling upward balls, and he slowly, fucking stupidly, began to realize it.
“what are you gonna tell her? Some absurd zipper accident when leaving the gym gave you that cut? What are you gonna tell her? Huh?”
I pulled out my small Nikon point and shoot, snapped a pic of him in his morning sadness. My kitchen in background with my walls, coffee machine, my fuckin’ Whirlpool dishwasher. He had the ego to step towards me.
Leveling my knife at chest high, I asked him if he really wanted a different outcome than the Fatal Attraction kitchen incident. Sorry, my aim is much better than that of Glenn Close.
He backed off, grabbed his clothes and split.
Did he pay me?
You betcha! It did take me two calls to his job and three calls to his wife. Sure, I left messages with receptionists and his wife about refinance options on his house. It would only cost him seven-fifty a month.
I then got cash.
Every month. I still get payments.
Women of this land! Fuck love when they fuck you over. You gave them your thoughts, deepest feelings, your faith and emotions. And all they could do was attempt to blow you off? Stand up and take matters into your hands.
Sometimes it takes a knife and an ability to actually wheeled it. Some memory and an ability to remember numbers and the names of those closest to him. Never, and I fucking mean NEVER, be without some form of digital camera with at least 5 plxls to catch the moment and keep his faux ass in check.
Remember this, my sisters: If you kill this asshole, especially after he says shit about being married, you got him. Don’t fail to call the Date Rape card. If you did drugs together, claim Roofies!
<<<AN: The Date Rape drug aka Roofies>>>
The tests for this will show for both parties. Drugs in the systems. You will so have the sympathy of all but the bastards sad ignorant wife, maybe her family, though I doubt it. You will never be brought to trial. Why? You got pics, semen samples that only a President could get away with proving , and alcohol and/or drugs on a TOX screen.
I lost all thought of love and emotions once again. It hurt me. Seriously hurt me to some psychology type core. Fuck love, fuck men and most all of like my parents taught me. Fuck Emotions!
Mr. Mark William Darus, go fuck yourself with the largest of dildos! This blog of yours has hit points that cause me sleepless nights. Flashbacks of yesterdays my shrinks would revel in!, My writings, as your blog has made me compelled to contribute to. My emails give you permission to post, but damn you!
The Prey and Predator alike? Equal ground? You have done this, some peoples GODS can only know how you keep pulling if off.
This really is Psychopathy Another Life. Another Life is quite appropriate.
Did you know where this would lead us all? Did you know you’d hit over 1200 post in a month and a half? Love it here though. In the Spirit of Tron: No problems, No compromise, ONLY solutions…
Catherine.
AN: Thanks, Catherine. I know you made the ‘dildo’ remark as a term of endearment. LOL.
I had no idea this would take off like it did. If I had a sense of pride, I have little doubt I would feel it most strongly.
Only by Antrax, good choice.
Tron: Only Solutions. One of the best Journey songs ever.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Myths, Folktales and The Evil Closest Monster
Myths, folktales and The Evil Closet Monster.
PART I: Let the hunt begin! Tallyho!
It is most easy to spot a Nonviolent Psychopath (NV-P) in a crowd of people. Go to any crowded grocery story, hopefully with 100 people or more shopping. I say a hundred or more based on the statistic that 4% of the population of the USA are psychopaths, so it should be easier for you to spot one, perhaps two. It could also be at your local Hardware store, ( guys so fall to predators at hardware stores. Must have something to do with the word Hard, in hardware.)
PART I: Out of place dude at the grocery store.
You’ve seen them and maybe thought them odd. One thing is for sure: they stand out in the crowd.
The males are the ones with near empty grocery carts, staring blankly at frozen peas, looking over their shoulders periodically to see what hottie will fall into their web. They wait so patiently like a spider that the unsuspecting fly has no clue they are even thinking anything gross or disgusting.
“Are these good frozen peas?” they may say.
“My god! There’s too many to choose from???”
“What they Hell does Orgasmic Product of the US mean?”
This quite frequently gets the woman feeling sorry for this poor schlep of a man. They smile at his poor reading abilities, “I think that says ‘Organic’…”
“Uh, sorry…” he says faking an embarrassed look. “my sick mother asked me to pick her up some peas. Christ, I didn’t know there were this many.”
“Poor baby, lost in the woods, eh?” she says, feeling a tug at her heart as this man is so frustrated trying to help his mother.
“yeah, I’ve been that way since my died two years ago. She was, (sniff sniff) hit by a bus.” He smiles, with a small, though tooth showing, expression.
“ sorry to hear that, let me help you.” She’s getting closer and closer to the sticky web he’s cast. <Okay, fine, I know how Freudian that sounds. J I couldn’t resist.>
What this woman that happened on the frozen peas section of doom didn’t see were the simple telltale signs he displayed.
And after you read this section, you will know them and not end up like her.
PART II: The ACMECOYOTE Hardware MEGA Store! She has the non-sugar walls you need to avoid.
There is this women looking bewildered, though exceptionally gorgeous, standing in front of the circular saws. Every time a store employee asks if she needs assistance, she waves them off with a sultry voice stating she’s only looking.
Enter macho man. This guy is dressed like he walked out of high school shop class. A Harley Davidson T-shirt that reads: RIDE HARD! STAY HARD! that is way too small and too tight, showing off his manly arms and bulging chest. His slightly torn Levi’s, which also happen to be two sizes too small, advertising that he really is sporting a cucumber down there.
Macho dude strolls with a swagger. He walks up to this blond babe wearing flowing brightly colored skirt and oh so tight and pink jog bra. There is a cockiness to his walk, he truly must be a woman's man, no time for talk.
Her hot pink jog bra nailed him like the outside wall at Talladega repeatedly trashes Nascar drivers at 200 miles per hour.
Watching him, his eyes locked on her twin peaks, that the jog bra do not hide, he is clearly thinking one thing. “ooga-chocka! Ooga ooga ooga-chocka, oogo ooga_ I just get this feelin’. deep inside of me…”
He’s sporting a voice like Marvin Gaye with the look of Peewee Herman riding his face as he begins to speak.
“Say, fine lady, you look lost and I’ve got your road map.”
She smiles, mouth opening halfway. Green eyes shining like polished emeralds.
“ I just don’t know which drill to pick out for my father. He’s dying of cancer and I want to get him the best one ever! You see, he wants to make his own coffin as to not burden my brothers and I with the cost of a real one.” her voice falters, eyes dropping to floor.
“Darlin’, these are saws. But any sweet thing could make this mistake. Let me show you.”
He walks her to the power drill area.
She looks at the stock before her, than, looks at his ‘stock’ and says; “so BIG! I just don’t know which to choose.”
“uh, darlin, I can help you this. I know a lot about tools” he so manly states, reaching to scratch his groin like a pro baseball player.
She’s got him now, and damn well knows it!
Yet, how did this obvious man of the world lose control and slam into her wall? <damn, the Freudian lines just keep on coming… J >
We’ll get to the so to easy to read signs soon enough.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
What did part one and part two have in common?
Well, besides the obvious stupidity in the places they chose to prey, we missed much.
The half-smiles.
Had they smiled fully, the victim would’ve surely run away when they saw the massive k-9s that only a true predator can possess. Sharp fangs, pointy pointy teeth, as Monty Python so gave warnings of such things that most fail to heed.
Eyes, that may contain colour, but hold pupils as black as the pits of hell.
Other tells: When encountering anyone (especially a man) with a shopping cart that contains the following: One pack of Jimmy Deans pure pork sausage (not pre-cooked), a loaf of cheap bread, (note this: no cold-cuts or peanut butter and jelly), a pack of corned beef, (again, refer to the bread. Not rye and no cheese to compliment this) NO MUSTARD! Two boxes of Captain Crunch cereal (and no Milk), a butchers knife, a box of latex gloves, six packs of JuicyFruit gum and a cheap-ass apron.
Oh yeah, you’re what’s for dinner?
When encountering the hardware chick.
You will buy her the drill and drill bits. You’ll even have her get, and you will pay for these, the largest damn bits there is. You’ll even suggest that she get the heaviest leather tool belt they offer that gives her the most protection.
These people will kill you without giving it a moments thought!
Look at it: Latex gloves? Pork Sausage? Biggest drill bits?
So easy to figure out.
Pork sausage indicates that they are not Jewish, and perhaps maybe Nazi in background. Coupled with the butchers knife, apron and JuicyFruit gum. Juicy fruit, to cleanse their pallet after they have Hannibal Leture’d your ass, apron to dispose of as they slash you to bits with the butchers knife.
Take the time and think about it for a moment.
As far as the Fever Nights guy at the hardware extravaganza.
Well, this is easy to describe. Ever seen the movie Driller Killer? N’uff said.
Predators have flaming eyes, usually burning red with hells fire. Female Predators have flowing hair and come-fuck-me smiles and always wear flowing skirts and too revealing tops. Male predators come off like Bundy’s, acting like a dork with an attachment, like Norman Bates, to their mothers.
They all wear clothes that are out of date, have bad breath and torn fingernails. They talk like no one you ever heard before and they know how to steal your heart, soul and thoughts in milliseconds with a mere sucking in of your air.
They drive good cars, fast crotch rockets, or have a plane waiting.
They are all in league with the devil.
Welcome to the myths , folktales and Closet Monster.
From sheer sight, you cannot spot a NV-P on sight. You cannot pick them out of a crowd as one might find a bad pear in a rack with squeezing it first.
They do not have massive fangs, stares like that of Manson or Lecture, and will not use a butchers knife on you.
Homicidal Psychopaths are easier to find, perhaps using the above guidelines.
Read about Andrei Chikatilo (USSR) and his methods for further understanding. The investigator on him had him nailed years before, but got blocked by USSR parties bullshit before the walls fell. At that point, he NAILED fucker after a nervous breakdown while working the case and being accused of both madness and distortion of evidence. Movie to watch: Citizen X. Starring Donald Sutherland, Stephen Rae, Max Von Sydow . Fantastic movie! Thanks to best brother Dave Rose for showing me this years ago!
The NV-P is a casual beast that walk amongst us. They look and act like you and your friends. Though there are tells mentioned in previous posts from others and myself on my BLOG, most go without further thought to the reader. They do not carry themselves as monsters and only give to others their true selves as they leave.
Well, how do you know who is a NV-P and how isn’t?
Well, do like the styles of olde. Throw some weight on their ankles and toss them in a river. If the sink, they must be evil as wood and ducks floats and evil doesn’t. Put them on a Polygraph. Surely NV-P’s cannot pass those. They are such loathsome and emotionless characters that they could not possibly pass questions regarding emotion and remorse. Keep in mind, most covert-ops have been trained, like most members of the military, can pass those and have given their tricks for doing these so freely to the point they can be found in both books and movies, as well as the Internet.
In conclusion: They are not so easy to spot. There are, however things/actions to look for as mentioned in previous posts to look for. These came from both sides of my BLOG, the that filled their mental/ego bellies and those that were gutted both emotionally and financially.
Thanks for reading. I truly enjoyed writing this installment.
The commercials were from my mind and mine alone. All rights reserved. Implied copyright: 03:30AM on 04/26/2012 EST.
God help us, but if we do go into a Soylent Green mentality, I can handle the advertising for it with no problem whatsoever. Maybe god help me? I laugh, but you, reader, decide that for yourself.
Yours in thought, word, and most of all, writing and bowling!
Mark William Darus.
PART I: Let the hunt begin! Tallyho!
It is most easy to spot a Nonviolent Psychopath (NV-P) in a crowd of people. Go to any crowded grocery story, hopefully with 100 people or more shopping. I say a hundred or more based on the statistic that 4% of the population of the USA are psychopaths, so it should be easier for you to spot one, perhaps two. It could also be at your local Hardware store, ( guys so fall to predators at hardware stores. Must have something to do with the word Hard, in hardware.)
PART I: Out of place dude at the grocery store.
You’ve seen them and maybe thought them odd. One thing is for sure: they stand out in the crowd.
The males are the ones with near empty grocery carts, staring blankly at frozen peas, looking over their shoulders periodically to see what hottie will fall into their web. They wait so patiently like a spider that the unsuspecting fly has no clue they are even thinking anything gross or disgusting.
“Are these good frozen peas?” they may say.
“My god! There’s too many to choose from???”
“What they Hell does Orgasmic Product of the US mean?”
This quite frequently gets the woman feeling sorry for this poor schlep of a man. They smile at his poor reading abilities, “I think that says ‘Organic’…”
“Uh, sorry…” he says faking an embarrassed look. “my sick mother asked me to pick her up some peas. Christ, I didn’t know there were this many.”
“Poor baby, lost in the woods, eh?” she says, feeling a tug at her heart as this man is so frustrated trying to help his mother.
“yeah, I’ve been that way since my died two years ago. She was, (sniff sniff) hit by a bus.” He smiles, with a small, though tooth showing, expression.
“ sorry to hear that, let me help you.” She’s getting closer and closer to the sticky web he’s cast. <Okay, fine, I know how Freudian that sounds. J I couldn’t resist.>
What this woman that happened on the frozen peas section of doom didn’t see were the simple telltale signs he displayed.
And after you read this section, you will know them and not end up like her.
PART II: The ACMECOYOTE Hardware MEGA Store! She has the non-sugar walls you need to avoid.
There is this women looking bewildered, though exceptionally gorgeous, standing in front of the circular saws. Every time a store employee asks if she needs assistance, she waves them off with a sultry voice stating she’s only looking.
Enter macho man. This guy is dressed like he walked out of high school shop class. A Harley Davidson T-shirt that reads: RIDE HARD! STAY HARD! that is way too small and too tight, showing off his manly arms and bulging chest. His slightly torn Levi’s, which also happen to be two sizes too small, advertising that he really is sporting a cucumber down there.
Macho dude strolls with a swagger. He walks up to this blond babe wearing flowing brightly colored skirt and oh so tight and pink jog bra. There is a cockiness to his walk, he truly must be a woman's man, no time for talk.
Her hot pink jog bra nailed him like the outside wall at Talladega repeatedly trashes Nascar drivers at 200 miles per hour.
Watching him, his eyes locked on her twin peaks, that the jog bra do not hide, he is clearly thinking one thing. “ooga-chocka! Ooga ooga ooga-chocka, oogo ooga_ I just get this feelin’. deep inside of me…”
He’s sporting a voice like Marvin Gaye with the look of Peewee Herman riding his face as he begins to speak.
“Say, fine lady, you look lost and I’ve got your road map.”
She smiles, mouth opening halfway. Green eyes shining like polished emeralds.
“ I just don’t know which drill to pick out for my father. He’s dying of cancer and I want to get him the best one ever! You see, he wants to make his own coffin as to not burden my brothers and I with the cost of a real one.” her voice falters, eyes dropping to floor.
“Darlin’, these are saws. But any sweet thing could make this mistake. Let me show you.”
He walks her to the power drill area.
She looks at the stock before her, than, looks at his ‘stock’ and says; “so BIG! I just don’t know which to choose.”
“uh, darlin, I can help you this. I know a lot about tools” he so manly states, reaching to scratch his groin like a pro baseball player.
She’s got him now, and damn well knows it!
Yet, how did this obvious man of the world lose control and slam into her wall? <damn, the Freudian lines just keep on coming… J >
We’ll get to the so to easy to read signs soon enough.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
What did part one and part two have in common?
Well, besides the obvious stupidity in the places they chose to prey, we missed much.
The half-smiles.
Had they smiled fully, the victim would’ve surely run away when they saw the massive k-9s that only a true predator can possess. Sharp fangs, pointy pointy teeth, as Monty Python so gave warnings of such things that most fail to heed.
Eyes, that may contain colour, but hold pupils as black as the pits of hell.
Other tells: When encountering anyone (especially a man) with a shopping cart that contains the following: One pack of Jimmy Deans pure pork sausage (not pre-cooked), a loaf of cheap bread, (note this: no cold-cuts or peanut butter and jelly), a pack of corned beef, (again, refer to the bread. Not rye and no cheese to compliment this) NO MUSTARD! Two boxes of Captain Crunch cereal (and no Milk), a butchers knife, a box of latex gloves, six packs of JuicyFruit gum and a cheap-ass apron.
Oh yeah, you’re what’s for dinner?
When encountering the hardware chick.
You will buy her the drill and drill bits. You’ll even have her get, and you will pay for these, the largest damn bits there is. You’ll even suggest that she get the heaviest leather tool belt they offer that gives her the most protection.
These people will kill you without giving it a moments thought!
Look at it: Latex gloves? Pork Sausage? Biggest drill bits?
So easy to figure out.
Pork sausage indicates that they are not Jewish, and perhaps maybe Nazi in background. Coupled with the butchers knife, apron and JuicyFruit gum. Juicy fruit, to cleanse their pallet after they have Hannibal Leture’d your ass, apron to dispose of as they slash you to bits with the butchers knife.
Take the time and think about it for a moment.
As far as the Fever Nights guy at the hardware extravaganza.
Well, this is easy to describe. Ever seen the movie Driller Killer? N’uff said.
Predators have flaming eyes, usually burning red with hells fire. Female Predators have flowing hair and come-fuck-me smiles and always wear flowing skirts and too revealing tops. Male predators come off like Bundy’s, acting like a dork with an attachment, like Norman Bates, to their mothers.
They all wear clothes that are out of date, have bad breath and torn fingernails. They talk like no one you ever heard before and they know how to steal your heart, soul and thoughts in milliseconds with a mere sucking in of your air.
They drive good cars, fast crotch rockets, or have a plane waiting.
They are all in league with the devil.
Welcome to the myths , folktales and Closet Monster.
From sheer sight, you cannot spot a NV-P on sight. You cannot pick them out of a crowd as one might find a bad pear in a rack with squeezing it first.
They do not have massive fangs, stares like that of Manson or Lecture, and will not use a butchers knife on you.
Homicidal Psychopaths are easier to find, perhaps using the above guidelines.
Read about Andrei Chikatilo (USSR) and his methods for further understanding. The investigator on him had him nailed years before, but got blocked by USSR parties bullshit before the walls fell. At that point, he NAILED fucker after a nervous breakdown while working the case and being accused of both madness and distortion of evidence. Movie to watch: Citizen X. Starring Donald Sutherland, Stephen Rae, Max Von Sydow . Fantastic movie! Thanks to best brother Dave Rose for showing me this years ago!
The NV-P is a casual beast that walk amongst us. They look and act like you and your friends. Though there are tells mentioned in previous posts from others and myself on my BLOG, most go without further thought to the reader. They do not carry themselves as monsters and only give to others their true selves as they leave.
Well, how do you know who is a NV-P and how isn’t?
Well, do like the styles of olde. Throw some weight on their ankles and toss them in a river. If the sink, they must be evil as wood and ducks floats and evil doesn’t. Put them on a Polygraph. Surely NV-P’s cannot pass those. They are such loathsome and emotionless characters that they could not possibly pass questions regarding emotion and remorse. Keep in mind, most covert-ops have been trained, like most members of the military, can pass those and have given their tricks for doing these so freely to the point they can be found in both books and movies, as well as the Internet.
In conclusion: They are not so easy to spot. There are, however things/actions to look for as mentioned in previous posts to look for. These came from both sides of my BLOG, the that filled their mental/ego bellies and those that were gutted both emotionally and financially.
Thanks for reading. I truly enjoyed writing this installment.
The commercials were from my mind and mine alone. All rights reserved. Implied copyright: 03:30AM on 04/26/2012 EST.
God help us, but if we do go into a Soylent Green mentality, I can handle the advertising for it with no problem whatsoever. Maybe god help me? I laugh, but you, reader, decide that for yourself.
Yours in thought, word, and most of all, writing and bowling!
Mark William Darus.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Nonviolent Psychopathic bosses: Part one.
The boss you need to avoid whenever possible.
Nonviolent Psychopaths (NV-P’s) can most definitely reach positions of management, upper levels, and can even rise to CEO’s. They can do this almost effortlessly to all that see it happen, sometimes wondering how and so quickly they made it occur.
Most management NV-Ps reach this level by their late thirties to early forties. They’ve learned from many trials and errors, feeling their way and finding what works roughly 90% of the time. They are fast learners, never forgetting past errors in their actions, wording or their blind onesided ambitions.
How do they learn to reach the levels they do?
Through their sheer power of manipulation, backstabbing those on equal levels and possessing a never-ending mental tape recorder that is constantly on full-blast, they will coerce, blackmail and charm their way to the top. This level of their actions, however, is just the tip of the iceberg.
God help those that work under them as they progress their rapid ascent to bigger, grander things.
They love to ask those under them their opinions, reactions to new corporate initiatives, or simply to ask for ideas based on brain-storming sessions. When given these thoughts from their subordinates, they’ll fake interest and quite possibly concern for the meager/weak issues of the team they control. In some cases, when a team member continually expresses job related issues that never seem to get resolved, thus creating more stress in their work environment, they’ll snap on the employee in an attempt to intimidate them into submission. They do this to lay down the law: basically telling this employee, not the mention the whole team: Bring this up again and I WILL make you wish you hadn’t.
Why do they do this?
They do it to lay down their law of the jungle, making the repeated questioner look bad, ignorant or a negative Nelly in front of the whole team. This having a certain effect, more often than not, making others say nothing at all for fear of reprisal or retribution, and possible consequences in the future.
When they sense a loss of control with subordinates, after manipulation fails, they will have no problem intimidating with a fierce mentality to crush and beat them down. They will say things like: What, do you not think I know what I am talking about? Do you have no faith in the company, its systems, and your job? If you’re so unhappy, why do you stay here? You have other options, perhaps you should explore them…
At that point, you need to start documenting everything you encounter with this boss. Take notes, what is said, dates and times. EVERYTHING. This may save your job, not to mention your sanity, over time as you simply wish to maintain your life.
Depending greatly on your personality, you will either wish to rub this bosses nose in shit or simply waste much time and energy being the scared rabbit this manager has created.
Be conscious of your inner signals if you fall into the latter. If you find yourself concerning yourself or entertaining the idea that you are wrong for your answers, suggestions and justified in being belittled in front of others, talk to friends and family members about this. If you feel you can trust coworkers about your concerns, do so cautiously, as they may backstab you to the boss. Consider going to HR when you have documented enough.
Those that are strong enough to consider giving your boss a scratch-and-sniff of fecal perfume, you probably already have compiled enough documented evidence and are already on your way to HR. Most HR departments of larger companies will pay attention to employees concerns and grievances. They are smart and know they can always ‘make’ another manager. They will take notice when enough employees step up and express similar concerns.
Yet instead of firing such managers, they oddly, against all logic, will sometimes promote them instead. Perhaps fearing legal issues, they will set them apart from their current team. Occasionally placing them on another team to see what happens, to take further action down the road, or simply put them on a team of corporate YES-People, ie, Specialty Teams. Many times, they will place them in a position that involves other areas of the companies big-picture structure in a behind the scenes capacity.
This is the time, that the corporations hierarchy , wishes to see what this person, the NV-P, has to offer and further make the company more profitable. Granted, this boss had a ton of HR accusations against them, yet still had a team with exceptional numbers and an excellence of performance that bears notice. This person did, when all is said and done, blow away most teams in the company.
Those that acknowledge such achievements, unknowingly, propel the predator to further heights. They think they can control this person they gave a better position to, and oh so willingly grant this person more power than they’d righteously earned. It is at this point that their egos made them the next target.
I will go to the next level of the Corporate Vampire that is this type of NV-P.
Let me list the signals to the workers of a boss that may be a NV-P.
1. They so willing with much enthusiasm ask your opinion. If you watch closely, you will see that their eyes never match their words. Facial expressions, smiles that bare teeth, like that of a wolf about to strike. Watch for hand movements that do not match the emphasis for the subjects they are talking about.
By this I mean: think of a used car salesman, attempting to sell you a piece of junk, throwing his arms wildly with much energy and expression, taking your attention away from the car you’re thinking about and the oil stained pavement underneath it. He/She so blatantly sells you on the 30 day, 1000 mile guarantee, that you either consider it, or outright purchase it. This man obviously stands by this car, after all, look at his enthusiasm. He must be honest as he stands by the warrantee they offer.
Maybe not the first time, but by the second time, the managerial NV-P will attempt to squash you like a fly to their swatter.
They will belittle you. Bash you and knock you down in their attempt to intimidate you so brazenly in front of others, cowing them into submission.
2. Watch keenly for the boss that suggests, though more often than not, answers your question and asks further questions that sound more like an accusation: Catch phrases most often used: Is it that you have no faith in the company? Do you doubt my knowledge/expertise on this matter? Do you suggest I did not run your question up the ladder to get you a resolve? < and at the next meeting, when you question that they have not, watch their eyes. They will contain daggers aimed straight you.>
3. When you encounter one-on-ones with this boss, watch for what they say, in the highest of confidences, about your fellow employees. They use such terms as negative Nellies, Gloomy Gus’s and so forth, drawing you in when they compliment you on not being that way. They will eventually get paranoid about this and slowly, over some time, point out your flaws and tell you that you need to work on these things. They are setting you up for eventual termination. You have not told them about further negative statements the Nellies have said. They may, at bolder points, point blankly ask you: You didn’t tell them what I said, did you? I trusted you and I hear you betrayed my trust ( even though you kept your mouth shut.)
4. HR or the media is your friend. Use these resources to their fullest.
The above is a compilation of both stories from contributors and life experiences over the decades.
Make of this what you will, but keep a watchful eye.
Your boss may be a NV-P.
Nonviolent Psychopaths (NV-P’s) can most definitely reach positions of management, upper levels, and can even rise to CEO’s. They can do this almost effortlessly to all that see it happen, sometimes wondering how and so quickly they made it occur.
Most management NV-Ps reach this level by their late thirties to early forties. They’ve learned from many trials and errors, feeling their way and finding what works roughly 90% of the time. They are fast learners, never forgetting past errors in their actions, wording or their blind onesided ambitions.
How do they learn to reach the levels they do?
Through their sheer power of manipulation, backstabbing those on equal levels and possessing a never-ending mental tape recorder that is constantly on full-blast, they will coerce, blackmail and charm their way to the top. This level of their actions, however, is just the tip of the iceberg.
God help those that work under them as they progress their rapid ascent to bigger, grander things.
They love to ask those under them their opinions, reactions to new corporate initiatives, or simply to ask for ideas based on brain-storming sessions. When given these thoughts from their subordinates, they’ll fake interest and quite possibly concern for the meager/weak issues of the team they control. In some cases, when a team member continually expresses job related issues that never seem to get resolved, thus creating more stress in their work environment, they’ll snap on the employee in an attempt to intimidate them into submission. They do this to lay down the law: basically telling this employee, not the mention the whole team: Bring this up again and I WILL make you wish you hadn’t.
Why do they do this?
They do it to lay down their law of the jungle, making the repeated questioner look bad, ignorant or a negative Nelly in front of the whole team. This having a certain effect, more often than not, making others say nothing at all for fear of reprisal or retribution, and possible consequences in the future.
When they sense a loss of control with subordinates, after manipulation fails, they will have no problem intimidating with a fierce mentality to crush and beat them down. They will say things like: What, do you not think I know what I am talking about? Do you have no faith in the company, its systems, and your job? If you’re so unhappy, why do you stay here? You have other options, perhaps you should explore them…
At that point, you need to start documenting everything you encounter with this boss. Take notes, what is said, dates and times. EVERYTHING. This may save your job, not to mention your sanity, over time as you simply wish to maintain your life.
Depending greatly on your personality, you will either wish to rub this bosses nose in shit or simply waste much time and energy being the scared rabbit this manager has created.
Be conscious of your inner signals if you fall into the latter. If you find yourself concerning yourself or entertaining the idea that you are wrong for your answers, suggestions and justified in being belittled in front of others, talk to friends and family members about this. If you feel you can trust coworkers about your concerns, do so cautiously, as they may backstab you to the boss. Consider going to HR when you have documented enough.
Those that are strong enough to consider giving your boss a scratch-and-sniff of fecal perfume, you probably already have compiled enough documented evidence and are already on your way to HR. Most HR departments of larger companies will pay attention to employees concerns and grievances. They are smart and know they can always ‘make’ another manager. They will take notice when enough employees step up and express similar concerns.
Yet instead of firing such managers, they oddly, against all logic, will sometimes promote them instead. Perhaps fearing legal issues, they will set them apart from their current team. Occasionally placing them on another team to see what happens, to take further action down the road, or simply put them on a team of corporate YES-People, ie, Specialty Teams. Many times, they will place them in a position that involves other areas of the companies big-picture structure in a behind the scenes capacity.
This is the time, that the corporations hierarchy , wishes to see what this person, the NV-P, has to offer and further make the company more profitable. Granted, this boss had a ton of HR accusations against them, yet still had a team with exceptional numbers and an excellence of performance that bears notice. This person did, when all is said and done, blow away most teams in the company.
Those that acknowledge such achievements, unknowingly, propel the predator to further heights. They think they can control this person they gave a better position to, and oh so willingly grant this person more power than they’d righteously earned. It is at this point that their egos made them the next target.
I will go to the next level of the Corporate Vampire that is this type of NV-P.
Let me list the signals to the workers of a boss that may be a NV-P.
1. They so willing with much enthusiasm ask your opinion. If you watch closely, you will see that their eyes never match their words. Facial expressions, smiles that bare teeth, like that of a wolf about to strike. Watch for hand movements that do not match the emphasis for the subjects they are talking about.
By this I mean: think of a used car salesman, attempting to sell you a piece of junk, throwing his arms wildly with much energy and expression, taking your attention away from the car you’re thinking about and the oil stained pavement underneath it. He/She so blatantly sells you on the 30 day, 1000 mile guarantee, that you either consider it, or outright purchase it. This man obviously stands by this car, after all, look at his enthusiasm. He must be honest as he stands by the warrantee they offer.
Maybe not the first time, but by the second time, the managerial NV-P will attempt to squash you like a fly to their swatter.
They will belittle you. Bash you and knock you down in their attempt to intimidate you so brazenly in front of others, cowing them into submission.
2. Watch keenly for the boss that suggests, though more often than not, answers your question and asks further questions that sound more like an accusation: Catch phrases most often used: Is it that you have no faith in the company? Do you doubt my knowledge/expertise on this matter? Do you suggest I did not run your question up the ladder to get you a resolve? < and at the next meeting, when you question that they have not, watch their eyes. They will contain daggers aimed straight you.>
3. When you encounter one-on-ones with this boss, watch for what they say, in the highest of confidences, about your fellow employees. They use such terms as negative Nellies, Gloomy Gus’s and so forth, drawing you in when they compliment you on not being that way. They will eventually get paranoid about this and slowly, over some time, point out your flaws and tell you that you need to work on these things. They are setting you up for eventual termination. You have not told them about further negative statements the Nellies have said. They may, at bolder points, point blankly ask you: You didn’t tell them what I said, did you? I trusted you and I hear you betrayed my trust ( even though you kept your mouth shut.)
4. HR or the media is your friend. Use these resources to their fullest.
The above is a compilation of both stories from contributors and life experiences over the decades.
Make of this what you will, but keep a watchful eye.
Your boss may be a NV-P.
Thank you! We did this TOGETHER! Stand proud!
Where I can begin to thank all of you that have taken the time out of your busy lives to send emails and comments? Where can I begin to say what gratitude I have for your efforts? At what point can I possibly say more about OUR BLOG, that you both the predator and prey have shared so much?
I started this on March 3rd of this year of Two Thousand one-two and the response has been overwhelming. I have been so blindsided by emails that without some form of help from somewhere, I am flooded and drowning. PLEASE, TAKE NO OFFENSE IF IT TAKES ME A WHILE TO TOUCH BACK WITH YOU. Bowing head, I ask your forgiveness as to how long it has taken me to touch solid ground with you all.
Where to begin to show appreciation?
We have hit lands so far away from me I cannot begin to know their cultures and lives so vastly different than my own. Sunrises and sunsets in lands so opposite my own that I wish to see the world as you do. To walk the places, see the sights and smell what you do everyday, each week, a year upon years. Envious am I as I walk my limited life on OUR blue planet. (I seriously need to win a lotto and travel) The Gods will and not my own will, may this great feat happen.)
We have hit the lands of my fathers people in the Ukraine. I so wish to go there someday. Visit the places my fathers parents walked. Seeing what they saw. To Visit Pripyat, Ukraine, to see the rumblings of man at the worst nuclear disaster in history. The Chyrnoble accident.
Since the counter: we have hit: the USA (505 hits,) Russia (212 hits) the Ukraine ( 196 hits) Germany (157) Spain (78) Finland (37) Norway (22) Afghanistan ( 9) Canada (3).
We have hit connections from Yahoo, Google, FaceBook, Pharmaceutical companies, Discount Medications, Hooda vitamin/weight loss affiliates, University Hospitals, and a myriad of others.
We did this: TOGETHER!
Yet I dodge the question. Where to give thanks.
I can only say this: I so, bowing head like that of an emperor penguin does its mate in the Antarctic after giving birth. The mother, after giving the father the egg for safe keeping, returns after a 100-200 mile trek to bring food. The father: holding the egg for months keeping it alive, bearing witness to its child shedding its tiny home in the coldest of worlds. To be protected in the comfy warmth of his fathers underbelly, feeding off what little his father has to give. Then its mother comes back and all is right with their world. Nature, instinct, doing the impossible and against all odds.
Thank you for making things right with my world and my pursuits. You have no idea what you have done for me and my return to reading, writing and clear thinking once again. My journey into such a dark place of humanity, yet one that answers a question I have asked for years now.
You have, and keep doing so, answered my greatest question of all:
What makes us human?
We move forward, and I cannot thank you enough.
-Mark William Darus. (son of Marion and Ted, Grandchild of Orlon and Jenny)
I started this on March 3rd of this year of Two Thousand one-two and the response has been overwhelming. I have been so blindsided by emails that without some form of help from somewhere, I am flooded and drowning. PLEASE, TAKE NO OFFENSE IF IT TAKES ME A WHILE TO TOUCH BACK WITH YOU. Bowing head, I ask your forgiveness as to how long it has taken me to touch solid ground with you all.
Where to begin to show appreciation?
We have hit lands so far away from me I cannot begin to know their cultures and lives so vastly different than my own. Sunrises and sunsets in lands so opposite my own that I wish to see the world as you do. To walk the places, see the sights and smell what you do everyday, each week, a year upon years. Envious am I as I walk my limited life on OUR blue planet. (I seriously need to win a lotto and travel) The Gods will and not my own will, may this great feat happen.)
We have hit the lands of my fathers people in the Ukraine. I so wish to go there someday. Visit the places my fathers parents walked. Seeing what they saw. To Visit Pripyat, Ukraine, to see the rumblings of man at the worst nuclear disaster in history. The Chyrnoble accident.
Since the counter: we have hit: the USA (505 hits,) Russia (212 hits) the Ukraine ( 196 hits) Germany (157) Spain (78) Finland (37) Norway (22) Afghanistan ( 9) Canada (3).
We have hit connections from Yahoo, Google, FaceBook, Pharmaceutical companies, Discount Medications, Hooda vitamin/weight loss affiliates, University Hospitals, and a myriad of others.
We did this: TOGETHER!
Yet I dodge the question. Where to give thanks.
I can only say this: I so, bowing head like that of an emperor penguin does its mate in the Antarctic after giving birth. The mother, after giving the father the egg for safe keeping, returns after a 100-200 mile trek to bring food. The father: holding the egg for months keeping it alive, bearing witness to its child shedding its tiny home in the coldest of worlds. To be protected in the comfy warmth of his fathers underbelly, feeding off what little his father has to give. Then its mother comes back and all is right with their world. Nature, instinct, doing the impossible and against all odds.
Thank you for making things right with my world and my pursuits. You have no idea what you have done for me and my return to reading, writing and clear thinking once again. My journey into such a dark place of humanity, yet one that answers a question I have asked for years now.
You have, and keep doing so, answered my greatest question of all:
What makes us human?
We move forward, and I cannot thank you enough.
-Mark William Darus. (son of Marion and Ted, Grandchild of Orlon and Jenny)
Saturday, April 21, 2012
I remember you, Mark! Nice to see you large and out there!
To Mark William Darus.
Your words, your thoughts, the theories you will prove in time as you reach the common people from several countries. Anyone that possesses such a passion to post over a month and a half now, keep it interesting to those of us without psychology degrees, has some ability to capture and thus educate us.
I found your site from a boss of mine. She said I should read it, as we’d had many talks over blown and utterly fucked up relationships. Lost lots of money lost, many emotional breakdowns, stressing family and friends alike. We are as sisters, so close that we could not be blood related as we have never fought. We have shared many tears, spontaneous hugs, eruptions of raw emotion.
Your blog is a roadmap to enlightenment. I think the Prey and Predator share similar areas that hit home to both the learning and the reamed.
Based on comments from both sides, and your thoughts so clearly stated:
A. to the prey: read how the predator will find your ass and use you blind, and make you smile all the way to your emotional and financial devastating wreck.
B. to the predator, and want-to-be-predator: So boldly written, adding details at every possible moment to hit a point as subtle as a 10 ton wrecking ball takes out a building that was so firmly made. Within their firmly planted egos, do they not tell us their methods? By their sheer unabashed writing, are they not sending warnings to your readers? It is like, in some base act of guilt or penance, to warn others anonymously of what they will do to those that fail to follow their instincts.
Based on your ‘vacation outside ourselves’ post, could it not be said this is how they can fill their unconscious desire to be exposed or simply dominated?
To the want-to-be’s. Your site, through reader comments, can also be used to teach them the tricks of their trade and hone their skills. Through the corporate world as well as the relationship area, they will read and learn things that have worked for others. If intelligent enough, they will go forward with this knowledge.
C. You have kept your integrity as a writer. I have no idea how you have done this on such a depressing subject. You maintain objectivity in regards to Nonviolent Psychopaths with your writing.
I know, when it comes to modern human nature, you sometimes go off on tangents. I understand this totally: How can you continue to write about these aspects, their sadness and desperation and keep your own sanity and not need to vent?
Amazingly, you hit major points with those tangents and do this quite well. They seem to fit with each one, seamlessly cascading over boulders towards the waterfalls, which is your blog. The Crashing waters, though adding oxygen to downward streams aiding life beyond that needs to breathe.
And you do this as a simple person who has read, experienced and learned. No degree, which is probably why you do write as you do without windy jargon and pretentious tones like so many in the field of psychological writing. You have some training, though I believe you when you said you started reading psych books at an early age. You have taken classes, but something tells me it was decades ago.
My boss and I have shared your site with others who now follow it. Like the WEB itself, it gets bigger and more spread out. Like the globe you are hitting, Mark.
We spend breaks tearing your writing amongst us, but none of us have found a site that shares so much with the general population that makes up our shrinking world. Both sides, in unison: the teachers and the taught. Through pain and elation, we learn.
We thank you!
Rhonda L Madsen.
And the *********** ********* Company.
Ps: we met, about 8 years ago in the MetroParks. We talked and you told me your name. I was sitting on a boulder in the Rocky River metro parks overlooking the river. I was crying and you asked me if I was okay. I said nothing, but you asked me to join you to pay homage to the Dunkleosaurus. I followed you, thinking you nuts and wishing to be dead after another failed relationship. I have often wondered about that event. I broke down and told you everything. You hugged me and said to learn from it. I have never forgotten that.
A Godsend!
My boss showed me your blog, and I remembered you after reading several entries. I looked up face book names. Zark, love that diversion. I remembered your fiery eyes, your wrinkled forehead, that didn’t match your energy and so obvious love of lie . The frantic way you told me about the sky, I think you called them ‘the gods canvas’. Everyday was a blessing and each sky pic embraced with our eyes makes a picture never to be recreated no matter how long we lived and should be cherished.
I have never forgotten your gentle words, Mark.
You kept me alive at one of the worst points of my life and made me believe in Angels once again.
I will contact you when I feel I can. I don’t look the way I did then. I am a somewhat vain woman.
As others have said: my gift to you.
You made, and I have no doubts with others, make a difference.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SnL1e4-NfaA
AN: I can find nothing to comment on this except thank you. Sorry for my lack of memory, though I think you were a redhead, slender , wearing a bluish-green tank and paled shorts, and missed match sneakers? I remember meeting a women at that place that had two different Converse sneaks, making me think: how fucked is this person and how can I help?
At that time, as I have most of my adult life, I am/was so self scarifying. I still am, albeit on a more selective course than before << survival plays a huge part to most of us, and seriously for me.>>>
Do you think I really care how you look? Your size and such means nothing to me. Honestly though, your hair length might. Sorry on that. I am such an asshole for long hair on women.
Mine to yours, Rhonda…
Always,
Mark
Your words, your thoughts, the theories you will prove in time as you reach the common people from several countries. Anyone that possesses such a passion to post over a month and a half now, keep it interesting to those of us without psychology degrees, has some ability to capture and thus educate us.
I found your site from a boss of mine. She said I should read it, as we’d had many talks over blown and utterly fucked up relationships. Lost lots of money lost, many emotional breakdowns, stressing family and friends alike. We are as sisters, so close that we could not be blood related as we have never fought. We have shared many tears, spontaneous hugs, eruptions of raw emotion.
Your blog is a roadmap to enlightenment. I think the Prey and Predator share similar areas that hit home to both the learning and the reamed.
Based on comments from both sides, and your thoughts so clearly stated:
A. to the prey: read how the predator will find your ass and use you blind, and make you smile all the way to your emotional and financial devastating wreck.
B. to the predator, and want-to-be-predator: So boldly written, adding details at every possible moment to hit a point as subtle as a 10 ton wrecking ball takes out a building that was so firmly made. Within their firmly planted egos, do they not tell us their methods? By their sheer unabashed writing, are they not sending warnings to your readers? It is like, in some base act of guilt or penance, to warn others anonymously of what they will do to those that fail to follow their instincts.
Based on your ‘vacation outside ourselves’ post, could it not be said this is how they can fill their unconscious desire to be exposed or simply dominated?
To the want-to-be’s. Your site, through reader comments, can also be used to teach them the tricks of their trade and hone their skills. Through the corporate world as well as the relationship area, they will read and learn things that have worked for others. If intelligent enough, they will go forward with this knowledge.
C. You have kept your integrity as a writer. I have no idea how you have done this on such a depressing subject. You maintain objectivity in regards to Nonviolent Psychopaths with your writing.
I know, when it comes to modern human nature, you sometimes go off on tangents. I understand this totally: How can you continue to write about these aspects, their sadness and desperation and keep your own sanity and not need to vent?
Amazingly, you hit major points with those tangents and do this quite well. They seem to fit with each one, seamlessly cascading over boulders towards the waterfalls, which is your blog. The Crashing waters, though adding oxygen to downward streams aiding life beyond that needs to breathe.
And you do this as a simple person who has read, experienced and learned. No degree, which is probably why you do write as you do without windy jargon and pretentious tones like so many in the field of psychological writing. You have some training, though I believe you when you said you started reading psych books at an early age. You have taken classes, but something tells me it was decades ago.
My boss and I have shared your site with others who now follow it. Like the WEB itself, it gets bigger and more spread out. Like the globe you are hitting, Mark.
We spend breaks tearing your writing amongst us, but none of us have found a site that shares so much with the general population that makes up our shrinking world. Both sides, in unison: the teachers and the taught. Through pain and elation, we learn.
We thank you!
Rhonda L Madsen.
And the *********** ********* Company.
Ps: we met, about 8 years ago in the MetroParks. We talked and you told me your name. I was sitting on a boulder in the Rocky River metro parks overlooking the river. I was crying and you asked me if I was okay. I said nothing, but you asked me to join you to pay homage to the Dunkleosaurus. I followed you, thinking you nuts and wishing to be dead after another failed relationship. I have often wondered about that event. I broke down and told you everything. You hugged me and said to learn from it. I have never forgotten that.
A Godsend!
My boss showed me your blog, and I remembered you after reading several entries. I looked up face book names. Zark, love that diversion. I remembered your fiery eyes, your wrinkled forehead, that didn’t match your energy and so obvious love of lie . The frantic way you told me about the sky, I think you called them ‘the gods canvas’. Everyday was a blessing and each sky pic embraced with our eyes makes a picture never to be recreated no matter how long we lived and should be cherished.
I have never forgotten your gentle words, Mark.
You kept me alive at one of the worst points of my life and made me believe in Angels once again.
I will contact you when I feel I can. I don’t look the way I did then. I am a somewhat vain woman.
As others have said: my gift to you.
You made, and I have no doubts with others, make a difference.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SnL1e4-NfaA
AN: I can find nothing to comment on this except thank you. Sorry for my lack of memory, though I think you were a redhead, slender , wearing a bluish-green tank and paled shorts, and missed match sneakers? I remember meeting a women at that place that had two different Converse sneaks, making me think: how fucked is this person and how can I help?
At that time, as I have most of my adult life, I am/was so self scarifying. I still am, albeit on a more selective course than before << survival plays a huge part to most of us, and seriously for me.>>>
Do you think I really care how you look? Your size and such means nothing to me. Honestly though, your hair length might. Sorry on that. I am such an asshole for long hair on women.
Mine to yours, Rhonda…
Always,
Mark
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Defying Gravity
This is the story of Nancy. Native of Boston Mass. You have to love the intrinsic power of music and how it works on the minds processes. I cannot find fault on her personal conclusion for herself at this point in time anymore than i could find fault in someone doing anything against their upbringing. You go with what works for you. We are all more based on what works for us than the greater good.
Go, Nancy.
Defying gravity: This is my story of how I learned to kill my emotions, thus becoming a psychopath. I excelled in life, and never looked back.
My name is Nancy. I live by what most would consider a normal life. I work, pay taxes, (sometimes) and con most into believing I am a nice caring person. I have a dog, two cats and a a few friends who far more often that not, help when all goes wrong. Granted, I help them move, pick them up when they are sad and desparate. Their relationships run bad, a sounding board, a shoulder to cry. I can be there for them.
They tell me of their pain and anguish. I hug them, tell them everything is gonna be alreight and so forth. Yet I cannot feel their grievances except through some trace-memory of decades past. I know how their faces look and how my face and body language should respond, but there is no feeling in me. I just do what I think I should do. I do this to aid them, friends and such.
Frankly, I am not sure why I help anyone that cannot make me advance.
\
For years, I tried to play by the rules my parents, schools and friends taught me.
I went to high school, did band and chess club and though I was top in those, I got no scholarship. Why is this? I asked myself many times….
Did great in college, scoring higher and making top 5% of my grad class. Rose to editor for school newspaper in my sophomore year. Kept up with band, chess and even did well in glee club. Turns out I had a voice that turned heads.
Did these things help?
Nope, not at all.
You must be thinking I am some total dog or horribly obese person. Well, I was not. I was 5’9” and weighed in at 121 lbs. Long red hair over albeit anemic white skin. High cheekbones, slender arms and shapely legs.
I just couldn’t seem to make that oh-so-vital first impression that made those in authority take notice of me.
I even did public service in homeless shelters to aid my resume. I cleaned piss and shit from whores and junkies coming off overdoses and addictions. I fed their kids while they were in detox. I did it all.
No notice, not even the slightest recognition. NOTHING.
When I graduated college: most of my friends who had much lower grades, no extracurricular activities or even any public service backgrounds reached higher on jobs than me, I realized I was doing something wrong.
They lied successfully and I didn’t. They manipulated things that made them look great.
I loved my parents, but my friends must have taught them something better.
Over the first few years after graduation, I worked meaningless jobs that had nothing to do with my degree. Had relationships that left me lifeless over time trying to please and fail.
Then, from a commercial, I heard about an off-Broadway musical.
Wicked.
I related to the lead character like non other.
And this song…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FlMBcTGJ4YM
GLINDA
(spoken) Elphaba - why couldn't you have stayed calm for
once, instead of flying off the handle!
(sung) I hope you're happy!
I hope you're happy now
I hope you're happy how you
Hurt your cause forever
I hope you think you're clever!
ELPHABA
I hope you're happy
I hope you're happy, too
I hope you're proud how you
Would grovel in submission
To feed your own ambition
BOTH
So though I can't imagine how
I hope you're happy right now
GLINDA
(spoken) Elphie, listen to me. Just say you're sorry:
(sung) You can still be with the Wizard
What you've worked and waited for
You can have all you ever wanted:
ELPHABA
(spoken) I know:
(sung) But I don't want it -
No - I can't want it
Anymore:
Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I'm through with playing by the rules
Of someone else's game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It's time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes: and leap!
It's time to try
Defying gravity
I think I'll try
Defying gravity
And you can't pull me down!
GLINDA
Can't I make you understand?
You're having delusions of grandeur:
ELPHABA
I'm through accepting limits
'Cuz someone says they're so
Some things I cannot change
But till I try, I'll never know!
Too long I've been afraid of
Losing love I guess I've lost
Well, if that's love
It comes at much too high a cost!
I'd sooner buy
Defying gravity
Kiss me goodbye
I'm defying gravity
And you can't pull me down:
(spoken) Glinda - come with me. Think of what we could
do: together.
(sung) Unlimited
Together we're unlimited
Together we'll be the greatest team
There's ever been
Glinda -
Dreams, the way we planned 'em
GLINDA
If we work in tandem:
BOTH
There's no fight we cannot win
Just you and I
Defying gravity
With you and I
Defying gravity
ELPHABA
They'll never bring us down!
(spoken) Well? Are you coming?
GLINDA
I hope you're happy
Now that you're choosing this
ELPHABA
(spoken) You too
(sung) I hope it brings you bliss
BOTH
I really hope you get it
And you don't live to regret it
I hope you're happy in the end
I hope you're happy, my friend:
ELPHABASo if you care to find me
Look to the western sky!
As someone told me lately:
"Ev'ryone deserves the chance to fly!"
And if I'm flying solo
At least I'm flying free
To those who'd ground me
Take a message back from me
Tell them how I am
Defying gravity
I'm flying high
Defying gravity
And soon I'll match them in renown
And nobody in all of Oz
No Wizard that there is or was
Is ever gonna bring me down!
GLINDA
I hope you're happy!
CITIZENS OF OZ
Look at her, she's wicked!
Get her!
ELPHABA
:Bring me down!
CITIZENS OF OZ
No one mourns the wicked
So we've got to bring her
ELPHABA
Ahhh!
CITIZENS OF OZ
Down
And so, I became, as my shrink would call it, a psychopath. It took many years of friends and loved ones telling me to seek help. Got to love med benefits: they make many rich and seldom do any good.
I like myself this way. I cannot be hurt. I cannot be nailed by trying and failing. I seldom fail these days. I have learned to manipulate and lie convincingly.
I have risen trhough the ranks and currently make just over 500k a year.
I have defied gravity.
Those that would’ve held me down with such things as: just give it time, you’ll make it. Love lost is better than no love at all.
My family and past friends, though with good intentions, had such a little clue to my hearts pain no matter how vividly or intellectually I’d spill it out for them.
I killed my emotions. One by one. And over time, I had to do nothing…
I defied gravity and am so much happier for it.
-Nancy.
Thank you Mark.
You gave me a place to speak my mind and set some thoughts to peace.
So many look at us as being monsters, but we like racist jokes, don’t all fit the profile. I wrote this from your cracker barrel post with the Less than Zero music playing. Great soundtrack there. Inspirational. Sorry to hear how much you have lost from this blog. Sisters not wanting to speak with you must have some impact on you.
Know this: you are reaching a world, and with that, there must be some downsides. I am behind you.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Cracker Barrel killings 04/12/2012
Birthday Massacre: The killings in Brooklyn Ohio. April 12th 2012.
Intro to thoughts most will not tolerate nor consider.
Play this as you read: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3q1zTneO46Y
Let me start by saying I am breaking my own rule of engagement with this post. I said I would not go into the realm of violence and killings that seem to permeate the United States unlike most countries that do such human trashing for religion, civil rights or other such acceptable causes. I say acceptable most loosely: We can so easily find justifiable reasons to kill each other on the mass scale and cheer as hundreds, thousands die for “our’ cause.
The killings and wasting of families in other countries is so okay with us, as Americans, we cope with this on an almost daily basis. We have so reduced human life to the least common denominator that collateral damage and the decimated lives in the wake mean less than zero to us.
To any of you with children: What would you do if your innocent kid had their body chopped in half while some country said: WE’VE GOT TO STOP THE EVIL DOERS!
Those wasted lives hadn’t even paid taxes to fund their own comrades in their fight.
We in United States cannot say this. Our taxes make the bombs, bullets and planes possible to make such things happen abroad. We are all guilty for such collateral damage. We are, or so many would like to say, are responsible human beings. We work, we pay our bills and support a welfare system; perhaps giving to charities with what little money is left to us after local, state, federal and county taxes cut us of our real monetary worth.
Bottom line: our funding of the American Military machine is far bellow what we think as a people of the Earth. We seem to be more interested in our IPODS, the latest cell phones, and our single minded greed to further ourselves on and individual basis: fucking all others to advance such things, finding innocent deaths justifiable. Yet many of us head to churches once, twice or maybe three times a week to feel at home with God, Buddha, Christ or the Sacred heart of the Royal Frisbee, to level things out and dispel
guilt unknowing to us, though tugging at our hearts making us feel uneasy from day to day existence knowing something is wrong within us.
Yet we fund the killings, with each dollar we pay.
And to think we left and revolted against taxation without representation.
With the exception of the American Civil war when counties voted, when has the People of the United States of America ever personally voted for a war?
Brooklyn Ohio: April 12th 2012.
Sitting in a sometimes loud, though happy place to talk, eat good food and share the events of our lives. We have great wait staff attend to my wife, friends and I as we go about our stories. Fire burning in the open hearth, whiffs of Yankee Candles joining us and happy children wanting to finish eating and play with the cool toys in the store. My wife and friends almost wanting like our children, to see the things you can’t get from other restaurants.
The waitress, I’ll call her Aimee-Lynn, brings the bread to us. The scents of muffins and cornbread take hold as we imagine the butter and jelly we’ll spread on them and how they will taste.
Content with all around us. Peace after this never ending week. What more could we ask for?
Our children, not so taken by this, ask for more IBC root beer, to which, Aimme says she will oblige them with a genuine smile, short brunette hair dancing on her shoulders, liking her shift.
Looking around at the wall items: The tree saw, old trombone, pictures of stoic men and women from a long age when glass negatives were the norm. The Triangular puzzles which vexed most.
The food arrives.
A family next to us is celebrating a child’s tenth birthday. Such a happy kid, beaming with the light that only the innocent can possess.
We begin to eat. Smiles all around.
The sounds of Dolly Parton shattered by gunfire.
The fantastic smell of fried apples goes horribly afoul when mixed with the smell of fresh gun powder.
Madness takes hold.
The plastic electronic bird in the store, with flapping wings, mimics the gun fire and the shrieks of those close.
A crazed man with eyes filled with desperate hatred and total anger keeps firing. A child, his child, becomes lifeless by his hand on her tenth birthday. His wife, who had said she was leaving him, gets blown away. They youngest child gets nailed, though still carries some air within her tiny lungs, isn’t dead.
Pandemonium sets in, my back toward the shooter. Fearing this nut will keep firing, rather to have myself take a bullet before those I love, I cover them as we head for the kitchen area. We get the to parking lot, hearing a train go by, seeing some bank building behind us, smelling Italian food and the wood fire of Cracker Barrel. We run and keep running.
More gun fire crushes this once gracious night, making my children shake and my loving wife look more pale. And there was nothing more I could do.
We hunker down until the Brooklyn Ohio police give us, and all those around, the All Clear. They have either captured this freak or killed him.
The looks of fright my children displayed, their wide, brimming eyes with tears yet to fall: the horror of my lovely wife’s expression, sweat beginning to descend, long blond hair mussed up as she hunkered over our children as a second barrier over my own body.
We arrive home after giving witness statements. We do this with some sense mixture of shock and relief as our physical lives weren’t connected by bullets that so freely filled our dinner.
My wife calls off her job the next day.
I do the same. We call the kids off from school and daycare.
We think of counselors, knowing full well our kids have seen a horror that so eclipses anything we have ever witnessed.
Where do we go from here? Where do we trust and teach our children to do the same?
We took our children there… There is guilt that goes with this….
>>>Authors note to the above: I was not there. I simply put myself into the restaurant that I have visited many times since it opened. I planted myself in the respects of a man that might save his family, as witness statements would concur.
In my minds eye, I can visualize almost anything. Those closest to me would attest to this. I can do this with a coldness totally devoid of emotion, giving verbal, olfactory or written images to what I see. This more often than not brings out an emotional response that I can see, yet not feel. Call it this: In my Minds Eye.
But I can write about it in a way that may touch others and make them see, think and hopefully do what I cannot: Feel.
My god has not forsaken me. My god and those chosen for me to seek out, got meds to level me out and be whole again.
I kicked the booze via Laurelwood. Got meds to control Manic Depression, as my family and others told me I needed years ago. My 49th year has seen the most medical and mental benefits I have ever used than in 30 years of having such things.
Yet, thinking clearly, writing clearly, so few of those I physically know, comment, and so often change the subject when I bring up this site I have created.
Clamping down roads to be later traveled.
Was the shooter a Psychopath?
I would have to say he wasn’t. Based on all known things; he did have one account of domestic violence some twelve years ago and a few histories of theft.
What he did was not some well planned out event. Unlike Manson, Bundy and Ramirez, who did what they did, calculating what would be gained: and most significantly, giving themselves up to law enforcement without being killed for the sole purpose of bragging rights and the eventual historical accounts for their deeds.
\ Ego plays such an enormous part with psychopaths, both the killing and the Non-violent alike, that running out into a parking, knowing cops were there to kill them, just does not fit.
This fucker acted out in a crime of passion. Nothing more, nothing less.
The children? His Children?
Collateral damage and little more.
And who really gives a shit about collateral damage in the United States of America?
MARK WILLIAM DARUS.
04/16/2012
My humble thanks to those in the US, Germany, Russia, Italy, Ukriane and Canada and Spain. You knew i was close and asked to put thought into word. You shoved me: This is nice to see. Thanks!
Intro to thoughts most will not tolerate nor consider.
Play this as you read: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3q1zTneO46Y
Let me start by saying I am breaking my own rule of engagement with this post. I said I would not go into the realm of violence and killings that seem to permeate the United States unlike most countries that do such human trashing for religion, civil rights or other such acceptable causes. I say acceptable most loosely: We can so easily find justifiable reasons to kill each other on the mass scale and cheer as hundreds, thousands die for “our’ cause.
The killings and wasting of families in other countries is so okay with us, as Americans, we cope with this on an almost daily basis. We have so reduced human life to the least common denominator that collateral damage and the decimated lives in the wake mean less than zero to us.
To any of you with children: What would you do if your innocent kid had their body chopped in half while some country said: WE’VE GOT TO STOP THE EVIL DOERS!
Those wasted lives hadn’t even paid taxes to fund their own comrades in their fight.
We in United States cannot say this. Our taxes make the bombs, bullets and planes possible to make such things happen abroad. We are all guilty for such collateral damage. We are, or so many would like to say, are responsible human beings. We work, we pay our bills and support a welfare system; perhaps giving to charities with what little money is left to us after local, state, federal and county taxes cut us of our real monetary worth.
Bottom line: our funding of the American Military machine is far bellow what we think as a people of the Earth. We seem to be more interested in our IPODS, the latest cell phones, and our single minded greed to further ourselves on and individual basis: fucking all others to advance such things, finding innocent deaths justifiable. Yet many of us head to churches once, twice or maybe three times a week to feel at home with God, Buddha, Christ or the Sacred heart of the Royal Frisbee, to level things out and dispel
guilt unknowing to us, though tugging at our hearts making us feel uneasy from day to day existence knowing something is wrong within us.
Yet we fund the killings, with each dollar we pay.
And to think we left and revolted against taxation without representation.
With the exception of the American Civil war when counties voted, when has the People of the United States of America ever personally voted for a war?
Brooklyn Ohio: April 12th 2012.
Sitting in a sometimes loud, though happy place to talk, eat good food and share the events of our lives. We have great wait staff attend to my wife, friends and I as we go about our stories. Fire burning in the open hearth, whiffs of Yankee Candles joining us and happy children wanting to finish eating and play with the cool toys in the store. My wife and friends almost wanting like our children, to see the things you can’t get from other restaurants.
The waitress, I’ll call her Aimee-Lynn, brings the bread to us. The scents of muffins and cornbread take hold as we imagine the butter and jelly we’ll spread on them and how they will taste.
Content with all around us. Peace after this never ending week. What more could we ask for?
Our children, not so taken by this, ask for more IBC root beer, to which, Aimme says she will oblige them with a genuine smile, short brunette hair dancing on her shoulders, liking her shift.
Looking around at the wall items: The tree saw, old trombone, pictures of stoic men and women from a long age when glass negatives were the norm. The Triangular puzzles which vexed most.
The food arrives.
A family next to us is celebrating a child’s tenth birthday. Such a happy kid, beaming with the light that only the innocent can possess.
We begin to eat. Smiles all around.
The sounds of Dolly Parton shattered by gunfire.
The fantastic smell of fried apples goes horribly afoul when mixed with the smell of fresh gun powder.
Madness takes hold.
The plastic electronic bird in the store, with flapping wings, mimics the gun fire and the shrieks of those close.
A crazed man with eyes filled with desperate hatred and total anger keeps firing. A child, his child, becomes lifeless by his hand on her tenth birthday. His wife, who had said she was leaving him, gets blown away. They youngest child gets nailed, though still carries some air within her tiny lungs, isn’t dead.
Pandemonium sets in, my back toward the shooter. Fearing this nut will keep firing, rather to have myself take a bullet before those I love, I cover them as we head for the kitchen area. We get the to parking lot, hearing a train go by, seeing some bank building behind us, smelling Italian food and the wood fire of Cracker Barrel. We run and keep running.
More gun fire crushes this once gracious night, making my children shake and my loving wife look more pale. And there was nothing more I could do.
We hunker down until the Brooklyn Ohio police give us, and all those around, the All Clear. They have either captured this freak or killed him.
The looks of fright my children displayed, their wide, brimming eyes with tears yet to fall: the horror of my lovely wife’s expression, sweat beginning to descend, long blond hair mussed up as she hunkered over our children as a second barrier over my own body.
We arrive home after giving witness statements. We do this with some sense mixture of shock and relief as our physical lives weren’t connected by bullets that so freely filled our dinner.
My wife calls off her job the next day.
I do the same. We call the kids off from school and daycare.
We think of counselors, knowing full well our kids have seen a horror that so eclipses anything we have ever witnessed.
Where do we go from here? Where do we trust and teach our children to do the same?
We took our children there… There is guilt that goes with this….
>>>Authors note to the above: I was not there. I simply put myself into the restaurant that I have visited many times since it opened. I planted myself in the respects of a man that might save his family, as witness statements would concur.
In my minds eye, I can visualize almost anything. Those closest to me would attest to this. I can do this with a coldness totally devoid of emotion, giving verbal, olfactory or written images to what I see. This more often than not brings out an emotional response that I can see, yet not feel. Call it this: In my Minds Eye.
But I can write about it in a way that may touch others and make them see, think and hopefully do what I cannot: Feel.
My god has not forsaken me. My god and those chosen for me to seek out, got meds to level me out and be whole again.
I kicked the booze via Laurelwood. Got meds to control Manic Depression, as my family and others told me I needed years ago. My 49th year has seen the most medical and mental benefits I have ever used than in 30 years of having such things.
Yet, thinking clearly, writing clearly, so few of those I physically know, comment, and so often change the subject when I bring up this site I have created.
Clamping down roads to be later traveled.
Was the shooter a Psychopath?
I would have to say he wasn’t. Based on all known things; he did have one account of domestic violence some twelve years ago and a few histories of theft.
What he did was not some well planned out event. Unlike Manson, Bundy and Ramirez, who did what they did, calculating what would be gained: and most significantly, giving themselves up to law enforcement without being killed for the sole purpose of bragging rights and the eventual historical accounts for their deeds.
\ Ego plays such an enormous part with psychopaths, both the killing and the Non-violent alike, that running out into a parking, knowing cops were there to kill them, just does not fit.
This fucker acted out in a crime of passion. Nothing more, nothing less.
The children? His Children?
Collateral damage and little more.
And who really gives a shit about collateral damage in the United States of America?
MARK WILLIAM DARUS.
04/16/2012
My humble thanks to those in the US, Germany, Russia, Italy, Ukriane and Canada and Spain. You knew i was close and asked to put thought into word. You shoved me: This is nice to see. Thanks!
Vacations outside themselves.
Constants between normal people and the Nonviolent Pyschopaths: Trips outside themselves.
Alcohol can play such a huge factor in what makes one lose themselves for a while and open up to a world of utter mind-boggling possibilities for acceptance. We’ve all been there. Booze in the proper quantity can us open up, lose inhibitions and maybe dance on a table in an attempt to simply be noticed. This area does not stop at sheer heterosexual relationships but can, and will, go into the homosexual as well.
Wanting to be noticed is wanting to be noticed. They will try anything to pull someone toward them. The drunk at the bar will fish, throwing out the hook through an abuse of both alcohol and pent up sexual energy that they hope will snag someone, anyone, to perhaps bed them for a night or last much longer. The morning after is the telltale of things to come.
Wake up and they are still there can tell a few things. Either the prey was too drunk to leave, perhaps passed out, or just simply wanting to be with the fisher-person that captured their wanting soul. The one that so freely put themselves out there, to advertise enticements unabashed, a promise of dreams and desires fulfilled either do this because they desire a mate or simply feel hungry.
The hunger to suck someone in, be the vampire, and make this idiot their puppet. The other that can’t seem to get a partner any other way even for a short time and sell themselves like some cheap hand-me-down item at a thrift store.
This is the oddest parallel in the world of nonviolent Psychopathic relationships.
Booze or drugs live so keenly in both the regular and NV-Psychopathic world that is quite difficult to distinguish which is which. Alcohol and drugs play a huge factor in both realms. Alcohol is so accepted that both the predator and prey eclipse each other for the single want to be desired and conquered, to eat and be eaten.
Though many non- psychopaths get bombed to kill a bad week at work or sad lives in general, they advertise themselves out there with such complete and utter abandoned to be taken advantage of. Hey, look at me! I’m not with any partner. Come and get me!
To feel alive again after hours of being someone else’s subordinate. To cut loose, be free and not give a damn what any thinks or how they carry themselves.
The NV-Psychopaths get wasted for an attempt to feel emotions they had trashed years/decades ago. A glimpse at yesterdays gone by on their quest to feel nothing, no regrets and no remorse for their actions and perhaps, no hurt. To touch what they were, some bastard form of nostalgia as booze/drugs leave them bare and open to the ones they would have devoured yesterday. Looking, perhaps, to be used/abused in humiliating sexual activity or by sheer dominance.
What better arena than a bar, saloon or tavern for both to be relative equals?
This is where the lines get blurred .The predator and prey alike, have no clear clue to what their real motives truly are. And it is almost impossible to distinguish them apart from one another.
Until the next day when they arise. One with a screaming hangover, wondering what they did the night before. Hoping they didn’t offend a friend or hurt someone. The other awakens just fine, perky and ready to go. And very, very hungry. They got what they couldn’t ask their current food source for. Reckless uncontrolled desire for which they would not risk the one they are using, gaining money, or possessions from.
This is when, if having taken a fancy for the lamb, the NV-Psychopath will either stick around for greener pastures (bigger gains) or seek out other eating grounds seeking same.
Of course, they may do neither, and simply return to the current tasty steak they haven’t quite finished yet.
The flaunting exhibitionist the next day will feel totally different. They will not be surprised if the one they spent the night with looking for Mr. Goodbar, if you will, leaves and never calls them again. And damnit! Why do they always use my toothbrush?!? Oh, well, I got fucked real good and the guy/woman even let me piss on him. Wow, that was different!
That’s right. The NV-Psychopath will let such things happen.
Normal people will go on vacations. They’ll travel to places both near and far to experience different things, foods, environments and cultures. They will go to places that have a historical significance they are curious about. They’ll go on cruises to see far away places that contrast their normal surroundings. Perhaps a trip to wine countries in California, Pennsylvania or even Ohio to sample the source and locations of the wonderful beverages they have indulged in over the years. A jaunt to the battlefields of their ancestors; witnessing reenactments with their blasting cannons and muskets popping as men fall, nearby cattle jump and car alarms go off in the reality check as modern technology mocks the witnessed event of old.
They go somewhere with families, by themselves, or with friends, but the bottom line is: They go to someplace different to feel, learn, and explore.
In total contrast, the NV-Psychopath will stay in the general area, maybe venturing by going a city or two away for anonymity’s sake. These are the ones that are living off their prey and what they do the satisfy them.
Some of more affluent circles will even go on ‘work related’ trips to places like Vegas, New York City or even Amsterdam.
The affluent types con their wives/husbands/girlfriends by saying: I’ve got to do this, honey. Sorry, this one I can’t take you on. I need to maintain focus and you know I can’t do that with your sexy self around. This is too sudden to plan for and you know we can’t get a sitter on such short notice. No, hon, we’ve asked far too much of your family already. The company says no this time, sorry, stock holders are watching us for excesses.
These will have their ‘vacations’ planned long in advance. They have the ability to lie so clearly meshed with their spouse that no suspects anything.
Content with their marriages/relationships, these juggernauts of the corporate world seek brief rounds of being abused, controlled and dominated, like the average NV-Psychopath.
A common ground.
Both want the same single thing. To go beyond themselves in areas they have grown too familiar with. Not to learn so much as simply wanting to give up as their heavy workload of manipulation has worn them out. A trip outside themselves where their normal mind tricks of massive imaginations just cannot fulfill them.
They will allow themselves to be humiliated to the point of being beaten, burned, cut or even pissed or shit on to have their ‘vacation’ from the humdrum lives they live. This seems to be what recharges their batteries much like normal humans experience during their vacations.
Vacations, play a part in the relative normalcy of both regular people and NV-P’s.
A trip outside themselves.
Alcohol can play such a huge factor in what makes one lose themselves for a while and open up to a world of utter mind-boggling possibilities for acceptance. We’ve all been there. Booze in the proper quantity can us open up, lose inhibitions and maybe dance on a table in an attempt to simply be noticed. This area does not stop at sheer heterosexual relationships but can, and will, go into the homosexual as well.
Wanting to be noticed is wanting to be noticed. They will try anything to pull someone toward them. The drunk at the bar will fish, throwing out the hook through an abuse of both alcohol and pent up sexual energy that they hope will snag someone, anyone, to perhaps bed them for a night or last much longer. The morning after is the telltale of things to come.
Wake up and they are still there can tell a few things. Either the prey was too drunk to leave, perhaps passed out, or just simply wanting to be with the fisher-person that captured their wanting soul. The one that so freely put themselves out there, to advertise enticements unabashed, a promise of dreams and desires fulfilled either do this because they desire a mate or simply feel hungry.
The hunger to suck someone in, be the vampire, and make this idiot their puppet. The other that can’t seem to get a partner any other way even for a short time and sell themselves like some cheap hand-me-down item at a thrift store.
This is the oddest parallel in the world of nonviolent Psychopathic relationships.
Booze or drugs live so keenly in both the regular and NV-Psychopathic world that is quite difficult to distinguish which is which. Alcohol and drugs play a huge factor in both realms. Alcohol is so accepted that both the predator and prey eclipse each other for the single want to be desired and conquered, to eat and be eaten.
Though many non- psychopaths get bombed to kill a bad week at work or sad lives in general, they advertise themselves out there with such complete and utter abandoned to be taken advantage of. Hey, look at me! I’m not with any partner. Come and get me!
To feel alive again after hours of being someone else’s subordinate. To cut loose, be free and not give a damn what any thinks or how they carry themselves.
The NV-Psychopaths get wasted for an attempt to feel emotions they had trashed years/decades ago. A glimpse at yesterdays gone by on their quest to feel nothing, no regrets and no remorse for their actions and perhaps, no hurt. To touch what they were, some bastard form of nostalgia as booze/drugs leave them bare and open to the ones they would have devoured yesterday. Looking, perhaps, to be used/abused in humiliating sexual activity or by sheer dominance.
What better arena than a bar, saloon or tavern for both to be relative equals?
This is where the lines get blurred .The predator and prey alike, have no clear clue to what their real motives truly are. And it is almost impossible to distinguish them apart from one another.
Until the next day when they arise. One with a screaming hangover, wondering what they did the night before. Hoping they didn’t offend a friend or hurt someone. The other awakens just fine, perky and ready to go. And very, very hungry. They got what they couldn’t ask their current food source for. Reckless uncontrolled desire for which they would not risk the one they are using, gaining money, or possessions from.
This is when, if having taken a fancy for the lamb, the NV-Psychopath will either stick around for greener pastures (bigger gains) or seek out other eating grounds seeking same.
Of course, they may do neither, and simply return to the current tasty steak they haven’t quite finished yet.
The flaunting exhibitionist the next day will feel totally different. They will not be surprised if the one they spent the night with looking for Mr. Goodbar, if you will, leaves and never calls them again. And damnit! Why do they always use my toothbrush?!? Oh, well, I got fucked real good and the guy/woman even let me piss on him. Wow, that was different!
That’s right. The NV-Psychopath will let such things happen.
Normal people will go on vacations. They’ll travel to places both near and far to experience different things, foods, environments and cultures. They will go to places that have a historical significance they are curious about. They’ll go on cruises to see far away places that contrast their normal surroundings. Perhaps a trip to wine countries in California, Pennsylvania or even Ohio to sample the source and locations of the wonderful beverages they have indulged in over the years. A jaunt to the battlefields of their ancestors; witnessing reenactments with their blasting cannons and muskets popping as men fall, nearby cattle jump and car alarms go off in the reality check as modern technology mocks the witnessed event of old.
They go somewhere with families, by themselves, or with friends, but the bottom line is: They go to someplace different to feel, learn, and explore.
In total contrast, the NV-Psychopath will stay in the general area, maybe venturing by going a city or two away for anonymity’s sake. These are the ones that are living off their prey and what they do the satisfy them.
Some of more affluent circles will even go on ‘work related’ trips to places like Vegas, New York City or even Amsterdam.
The affluent types con their wives/husbands/girlfriends by saying: I’ve got to do this, honey. Sorry, this one I can’t take you on. I need to maintain focus and you know I can’t do that with your sexy self around. This is too sudden to plan for and you know we can’t get a sitter on such short notice. No, hon, we’ve asked far too much of your family already. The company says no this time, sorry, stock holders are watching us for excesses.
These will have their ‘vacations’ planned long in advance. They have the ability to lie so clearly meshed with their spouse that no suspects anything.
Content with their marriages/relationships, these juggernauts of the corporate world seek brief rounds of being abused, controlled and dominated, like the average NV-Psychopath.
A common ground.
Both want the same single thing. To go beyond themselves in areas they have grown too familiar with. Not to learn so much as simply wanting to give up as their heavy workload of manipulation has worn them out. A trip outside themselves where their normal mind tricks of massive imaginations just cannot fulfill them.
They will allow themselves to be humiliated to the point of being beaten, burned, cut or even pissed or shit on to have their ‘vacation’ from the humdrum lives they live. This seems to be what recharges their batteries much like normal humans experience during their vacations.
Vacations, play a part in the relative normalcy of both regular people and NV-P’s.
A trip outside themselves.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)