This guy says some of the funniest things.

A lot of the time it is true. A lot of the time it is cruel. I like to think his point of view will change lives.

https://www.reddit.com/user/LaughingMANB/comments/83w68h/plebian_messages/?ref=share&ref_source=link

It's Lit is an online platform of a magazine that asks people send in Short Stories written by black authors for them to review and apparently they pay commissions for the best short story. https://www.theroot.com/bloody-mae-1823500565 <<< That is the link>>> My only hang up was the fact that if you not on Google+ then you will not be seen,

  Which means they miss out on stories like this one:

  Serial Lovers:

The years fly by when we are made to count them by the number of lovers.

This is the thought process behind my generation. The institution of marriage, commitment to one, until we both meet on the other side; is an ideal that has faded in time.

 We have no regrets. No heritage either. Destined to wander from lover to lover, seeking validation until the other transpires. The lot of immortals; especially when we count the years by the number of lovers.

 There was one family, that lived on a hill, far from the cares of the world. Separated by two highways, that connected two towns. A home for every member of the family. A place for every lover. A secret place that you'd never find. Would certainly miss, if your not looking for it.

  He certainly wasn't.

When he met her, she was married. To keep with customs, he waited until death separated her from the vows, which kept her lips and hips from his. Sure she had daughters, five to be precise. To be committed to her was the prize; especially when you are made to count the years by lovers.

 From a distance he cherished her. Made himself indispensable, just to be near her.

The five beauties were all perturbed; professing disgruntled annoyance that she should have so young a servant. "Shouldn't he marry? Why is he always at her side? Even after Papa died, in her dry spell, heart attacks and days of mourning, he remained?"

  He has children. Two out of wedlock, so he no longer trusts women. He was never honest about how many he conquered. Forever counting the days by the number of lovers, can be a strain on a man.

We watched him from a distance. See him in the hills there, arguing with GOD over all he has seen, heard, lost. Demanding answers for what are impossibilities.

Some presume he counts the number of days by the number of women, because a siren of a lass bit him. Passed syphilis and it touched his brain.

  Why else would he fly into rages when discussions turn toward the decriminalization and persisted legalization of prostitution, marijuana, and the coddling of heroin users. The castration of innocent men, and the sterilization of young women. Vaccinations that destroy our children's brains and the continued funding of vaccine research instead of the support needed to affirm natural detoxing exercises.

To fund the detox of sin is a dream he professes as he continues to count the days by the number of lovers.

 Everyone used to lover to hear him orate.

Every lover, listened to his wisdom, amidst the nights of drunken stupor. Each loved the heart of the man, even if there was no room solely for them in it. Second to Jesus was fine; not to the whole world. What woman do you know of virgin thought would tolerate a man who's calendar is filled with dedications to the numbers of which he loved?

  Of the five daughters only the widow loved him best. Some would suggest in her years of pious declarations this was nothing new. To love has the same flavors of the first. Eighty-four to his fifty years younger of date; she kept up with him as she counted the days according to their play dates. She will leave him nothing. But that is not why he loves her.

  The curse of his immortality, rests on the charge of his soul; To conquer each woman till your no more; counting the days by the number of lovers.

The curse of the Serial Lover.

 https://www.reddit.com/user/LaughingMANB/comments/83ghnw/head_hunters/

The above aritcle was written in response to this past Women's movement. I have a few art pieces that I feel give the proper illustration to the thought process that goes into the writing. Part of the joy of being an anthologist, Finding ways to illustrate the things we say.

  Maybe some of you can answer the many questions of morality poised in the article.

Open-ended questions Rock.

 unapologetic nature.

I live my life like there is no tomarrow becaue it really is not promised to you.

The sun comes up everyday for those with a routine life, and a 9-5 job.

The traveler, like myself. well we just don't know.

So every time I speak I seek to leave you with something so it can never be said I just wasted you time. Nor could it be said I never finished a story or did not finish my story. My race. The course. The reason for being around. I am really never satisfied with much because I want so much.

Anyway. If you never heard from me again I hope this newest article says enough to keep you for years to come.

https://avproductionsblog.wordpress.com/2018/03/07/living-life-like-no-tomorrow/

It started over a cup of coffee.

It always does.

I walk into the resturant and I pay for everything. (I am  the man; It is the American custom).

The lady already pissed me off, because I said I was paying for the meal and I don't want a water. Water for everyone else, but this guy. She the had the nerve to ask was I eatting. So apperantly if you don't order a glass of water you are not eatting.

The money is secured and the arguement is over. So I thought.

She comes back and asks if we all want drinks or can be helped with anything.

I said I wanted coffee..Make it two coffees for me and the young woman.

Two cofees turn into one cofee.

It was like magic, I could not explain. To appease me my guest gives me her coffee. I tell her, to give me a minute and surely the waitress will come back and this can be fixed. The girl tells me to leave it alone. (Now I am pissed)

I drink the cofee, deep in thought. Am I a five year old to be treated like a child, when all I asked for was coffee. I am here with someone, so would it not be assumed that I desired two coffee's; "Why do I only have one?"

Leave it alone, I am asked. As if I am the one with the problem.

I am the one drinking coffee, I could leave it alone, but I asked for two.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The woman comes back and asks about her coffee.

Not to me, she told me to leave it alone and so I did. (The waitress brings the coffee.)

Deep in thought I contemplate how a man can be ignored in this day and age over a cup of coffee. I am not supposed to be in a rage. She, the waitress, certinaly is not to be tipped; especially when she forgot my coffee, but I am considered the unforgiving one; the angry bastard, because I reminded her of her problem in forgetting my coffee, and I was not tipping her. (I worked like a dog in resturants and everyone got coffee when they asked, that is service. When I mean everyone I mean the racists pricks that would not tipp me cause I am black, got coffee and I never spit in it. I am kind to this one, this crazy child that ignored me and I am called all sorts of names because I would not tipp.

There is a double standard here that pisses me off and it should not cause it is about COFFEE.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Remember my friend asked me to leave it alone. So I did. Why did I listen to her.

On the drive home she called me less than a man, because I left my outrage alone. This is what she said.

" I did not notice that you were missing your coffee, I was picking up my food when you ordered, I was not around. (This is a lie, cause remember I ordered two coffee's, who was i ordering them for the air.) (SHE CONTINUES THE LIE AND OBLIVIOUSNESS THAT SETS ME OFF). I did not know she was treating you so bad. When I asked for something she got it for me, so you should tipp her."

(WE WERE SITTING AT THE SAME TABLE>>>>I WAS DRINKING YOUR COFFEE>>>BECAUSE YOU TOLD ME TO LEAVE HER ALONE!!! YOU ORDERED ANOTHER CUP FOR YOURSLEF BECUASE SHE IGNORED MY ORDERS< I AM NOT TIPPING HER)

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Jesus said to love those that persecute you.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

IT IS COFFEE!! WHY SHOULD I FEEL PERSECUTED OVER COFFEE!! (JESUS ALSO SAID BE ANGRY AND SIN NOT) (HE SAID WHEN THEY HIT YOU TURN THE OTHER CHEECK)

DIDN"T YOU JUST SAY YOU LOST RESPECT FOR ME BECAUSE IN MY SILENCE I CHOSE TO TURN THE OTHER CHEECK AND LET THE WAITRESS FORGET MY COFFEE!! YOU RESPECT JESUS AND HIS ABILITY TO FORGIVE THE UNFORGIVABLE BUT WHEN I DON"T THROW THAT BIMBO OF A WAITRESS ON HER BUMM FOR FORGETTING MY COFFEE AND NOT LISTENING TO ME WHEN I ORDERED TWO OF THEM I AM ONE TO HAVE LOST RESPECT IN YOUR EYES;

JESUE ALSO COULD NOT STAND A HYPOCRIT!

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I tell you not to tipp her, not because I wanted coffee so much, but because she blatenly ignored me and did nothing in my mind to deserve kindness, not when I have to chase her down for coffee...and you have to call her name as if she is so important. You say she needed Jesus and is a Sinner and no matter what I should be kind to her. Which I agree with you, and I am kind by not doing what really comes to mind when someone treats me as second rate and I never said a mean thing to them.

It is not hard to be a Christian, it is hard to deal with people that will allow hypocrisy to go unspoken of or corrected in the name of peace, or misunderstanding. Or the temptation of satan and my past making me border line bipolar. To belittle any confrontation as unseemly and undignified if one uses there fists or show contempt for the actions of others. The woman that shared a table with me tipped the young waitress and encouraged her behaivior and passed the blame onto me because I did not tell her what both of us saw. The woman claims she did not see the disrespect of the lack of coffee on my table; It was merely coffee, easily forgotten; As forgotten as the one who spoke to her about a Jesus that allows the denizens of this world to do as the wish with no real world consequence.

Remember Jesus forgives all and I should too.

Who cares about the coffee right...it is just good stuff.

Dear Voice of the Martyrs,                                                                                                           3/1/2018

  Last year or two, I wrote to you about the imprisonment of men and women in America; who are being kept in similar conditions that your founder WurmBrand had to contend with in Romania in 1945.

  Your response was that due to all of your work in NK, speaking to me about solutions or missions here in America would not be possible.

  As the years mount and I study and learn that the institution, G.E.O; which has become a bane to my existence and that of 237,000 other people; of this country and have been active since 1984; (I find this date fascinating because it coincides with that of the NK DPK and their labor camp development.)  According to your records and eye witness accounts, we should not be surprised to the behavior of those from Communist countries; The question remains, “How surprising is it when we hear of similar methods of punishment are pressured upon Americans in their own country?”

  “What happens when American citizens climb Capitol Hill just like Richard and Sabrina, crowd into the galleries and the great halls floor were four thousand religious leaders are found believing, “The state could count on the church if the church counts on state; Communism and Christianity are fundamentally the same, and certainly can coexist?”

  We as Americans, freedom loving people, want to believe the Cold War is over; that the fighting will end when we stop fighting; but the inner core of me suggests we’ve not even begun. Especially when Private Prison Corporations can get away with structural genocide that has occurred in this country for so long and no one questions it.

  I am inclined to quote Sabrina every time I get a chance in regard to the standard of righteousness that is supposed to be upheld by the institutions that fuel our economy, “I don’t want cowards, around me.”

 If you were to compile every report found @ www.avproductionsblog.wordpress.com in regard to G.E.O and Private Prisons here in America~ “Do you really not believe that there is no room for discussion on the purging of these institutions?”

Using Jailed Migrants as a Pool of Cheap Labor https://nyti.ms/2lv8xxo  lets compare notes: https://adventgradepress.com/2016/09/2014/#more-263 … When we are made to look at a map like that we can't help but ask who in congress can be trusted? 

 https://www.nytimes.com/2014/05/25/us/using-jailed-migrants-as-a-pool-of-cheap-labor.html?smid=tw-share

Sound the resistance for the men and women that have no voice! https://avprodcutionsblog.wordpress.com/2017/11/19/the-rage-of-landslide/ … Those that deny the Holocaust would be the ones that pool their money for institutions such as G.E.O. and CoreCivic!

Under Mr. Trump, Private Prisons Thrive Again https://nyti.ms/2lFd91O  If Trump knew the truth: I know he'd do more than Obama would have done. It can't be said he had anything to do with it, when to government has gone rouge since '84.

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/02/24/opinion/under-mr-trump-private-prisons-thrive-again.html?smid=tw-share

I feel an intense level of exasperation with people that suggest "Time in Prison," is a learning experience for most young men, it teaches them how to experience "Oneness With Self."https://twitter.com/Maggie_McNeill/status/966084465171734528 …

Except that NPR supports the War on Whores, which is the new War on Drugs and will keep the prisons full. Because of THE CHILDREN!!!!! H

                                                                                                                        Your Advent Voice

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I am still waiting on a response.

Truth is Nothing has really changed for ya,

Since our youth.

You still going around in the same circles

of Friends,

In that same nothing town.

Tellin' all those about the big wide world of Cali; bottles and parties that you'll have to save for the next go around.

Tellin' all the same stories of the money that you've made; slaven the day away trying to sell promo's of your self through the chirpper, 1700 likes, still declaring how broke you is, while your twirking.

 $30,000 a page, two thousand above minimum wage. Afraid to get a job cause the dream might fade. Never went to university so you could be made a slave. Got married to a loser that came home to you, askin' you to carry the weight.

Truth is Nothing has really changed for ya,

And your much too proud,

To let me know I've seen through ya. Remember all those vows of how you were going to make it big. You laughed and loved to see me fail; now I watch you sail, morooned in a 10 year wade of charades, disgusted at a lack of production, now you fussin'

All I want is the Unadulterated Truth from ya.

I want to sit with my boy in my arms and ask you how your life is;

You were flawless,

Certainly lawless,

Followed only rules that allowed you to confuse the mindless, You had the craziest idea of growing money; kind of went somethin' like:

"Friends are not ones that you ask you to spend money on them and they don't spend money on you."

All I want is the Unadulterated Truth from ya.

In the years that you knew me was I really no more than a sperm donar,

Made to go from comfort to mercenary in one summer. Picking the pockets of every loose lipped critic that you'd meet and squeeze magically something from nothin'.

All I want is the Unadulterated Truth from ya.

Are you enjoy your life  right now; lying to your fans about the trips, goals, making those who bought into you, to ask, a classic;

"What you've been doin' with your money?"

All I want is the Unadulterated Truth from ya.

Is you, or Isn't you,

Still livin' in them Carolina Hills,

Sellin' pictures of yourself for a magaizine that is just not hot, Like Bow WoW cleanin'g up someones track,

Mixing dreams for those in there 30's, clearly not identifying with the reality of life, failin' ones own expecations, Must be nice.

All I want is the Unadultereated Truth From ya.

The title of this post is what you will find posted up in a local coffee shop I like to frequent.

I was made to laugh internally as I remembered a time in my youth, of when I "TIPPED," a cow. Outwardly I expressed to the young woman who was serving me coffee of how I was certain anything that could bring me that much laughter was, "OK," for the cow.

She, the coffee clerk, was HORRIFIED, at the prospect.

To imagine that anyone would admit to have "TIPPED," a cow.

She goes on to seek to spoil my childhood memory, with ideas of inhumaine treatment of animals and how risking to break a helpless creatures ribs for my own pleasure is border line psycotic.

The line that silences all EPA regulators in training:

"WE ATE THE COW, AFTER WE TIPPED HER."

Giving room for my jokes, puns, and restored sanity to the conversation & context of the overall motif of why I was there laughing at the sign.

I left with a smile and she kept hers while saying good bye to a man she now formally knows as "COW TIPPER."

As I left with my coffee she asked me if I learned anything from the experiance;

INSINUATING: "Did I grow up and treat my animals better and not find pleasure in TIPPING them?"

Consindering she never would do a thing like that and she was so much younger than I; still innocent of the pleasures to be found in this world; I told her;

"Not to knock things until you try them; ~ But no I don't tipp cows anymore. Now I tipp niave people who laugh at ideas they never experiacned and are horrified of the prospect of having to consider."

I have begun to feel my age and how seperated my generation is from this present one.

It is a sad day when we can no longer laugh at the Tipping of Cows.

So I was listening to the lyrics of Frozen the Musical on Broadway and it left me with a few questions.

She is singing and she is going on and on about being confused as to weather or not she is comfortable with the decision she has made to be angry about something.

  Number one question comes to mind: (Why would you be confused about what has set you off?)

Later she suggests that she is a Monster for feeling the way she does.

 Number two question comes to mind: (Since when it is bad to express the rage that has been left boiling inside; and since when is a person to be considered a monster because they get angry?)

  In the middle of the song she is comfortable with her choice and then she is so set on her course; death becomes a discussion...(Yeah Disney did it again; brought Martyrisms to the table of discussion)...but at the last minute she decieds she is the good guy and appologizes to her family and friends for being angry and a monster.

  Number three question comes to mind: (Since when are bipolar hysterics the characteristics of a heroic figure and why are we not allowed to be comfortable with RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION!) Have people forgotten such a theme exisits....They have haven't they...

Little girls are going around singing that song right now; just so you know. Disney is making little bipolar hysterical action figures of our little princesses and I am really not sure why Bipolar Behavior's are being glorified in this manner.

Half of me laughs at the prospect: But really that entire song is the theme of a schitzophrinc, bipolar, supercharged with Rage Mode Experience Points of Natasha from Mother Russia Bleeds; who after her tirad appologizes and asks for you to give her a kiss.

Thank you, to all of those that have voted and viewed my view of heaven.

Your votes for the work really have endeared you to my heart. It took a lot of time and I am sorry for the traditional look. I did that on purpose. I wanted so much for it come across as an impressioned piece.

There was so much I could have done to make it better, but the character of the piece made it universally accetapable and I was not looking to cause any confrontations, just looking to ilustrate a story without words. Which as an anthologist is rather difficult; really how is anyone to express there view of heaven without words.

I hope I did a good job and I hope the rest of my works are just as appreciated.