Friday, September 29, 2006

Hawkins story

The men were lined up ready to march, their lasers locked, and with packs strapped upon their shoulders all they awaited now was the platoon sergeant’s voice to ring out and sound the advance.

“Now isn’t funny Hawkins, how they’re waiting for us? Us waiting here is sure to cause Major Burns no end of consternation”. Horrigan has seen Raymond Hawkins looking at him mischievously and added

“We’ve kept him waiting long enough right lads?” At the last he turned around and addressed the platoon. They responded with a resounding loud chuckle. The whole company thought that Major Burns fine in battle, was too exuberant in the exercising of his authority.

“Ok, we’ve waited long enough, bugger the order, we’re marching with loaded lasers.”

“Platoon, load lasers, and present weapons for inspection” If the platoon and I will march into battle, then dammit, we will be doing it my way I thought.

I sent Horrigan on down the line along with the platoon sergeants to check that every laser had a full magazine, and it was locked. This having met my satisfaction, we proceeded to move out towards the Regimental staging area, where the men would draw fresh rations and ammunition and I would have to meet with Major Burns. I had only the next five hours riding in the Armored Personnel Carrier in which to get my story straight.

I had to get a favorable outlook, or I would be reassigned, most likely to either a desk, if someone still liked me, or at worst, the lead of a conscript battalion. To do this I would have to relate my actions up to this point, to build a case that I was not, nor still am incompetent or intent upon causing treason.

I sought out Horrigan’s advice. He was more then aid, he was my child hood friend and it was him who told me to volunteer for the Home Defense Force. If I joined the HDF he said, then the law couldn’t touch me, granted if I then broke military law, then chances are I’d still get to meet that big scythe and those accompanying black robes.

The whole episode started after the death of my parents, and Horrigan, took me in. He was only six months older then me, but at seventeen he was already feared by the guilds. He ran the toughest gang around, and he took me in. It’s my thought he remembered me when he lived in the floor above ours, back before his parents kicked him out of their house. This before my father got a new job and we moved across town.

It was barely a month after that that my father, on his way from the store was shot by some thieves who needed the use of his motorcar to further affect an escape. My mother died a year later, of heart failure. Because Horrigan took me in, I was able to still get my schooling done. I regret that I never could go on, but survival was more important and because survival was so important, it was for that reason we decided to rob the butcher.

We were trying to raise the money to bail Horrigan out of prison, for he had been locked up on a charge of causing a riot.We raised the money, yet by the time we had it in hand, Horrigan had already been forced in the Home Defense Force. It would only be a short time later when the government took me. With no where else, to go, no real trade skills or future even; I opted to cast my lot in with the HDF, completed training and was shipped out to bolster the military presence on the planet Griffyn. On my way there, I found that I had been reassigned to the Terra Army.

A second shock was handed to me in the form of a letter from the company purser. It seemed that before my parents died, they had given everything to me and they had a substantial sum. Before as I had been a vagrant, the letter could not have reached me, but now that I was a name and address again, the post had caught up with me. This meant I could buy my commission, but I would have to do it quickly for the Armament minister had decreed that the purchasing of commissions would cease on the first of the month, and forthwith from that point it would only be skill on the battlefield, or your speciality that mattered.

After so purchasing my Lieutenancy upon completion of the voyage, I reported myself to the sergeant of my new platoon, it was none other then Horrigan, and although he made feel welcome, he wasn’t quickly given to friendship. I was a link to his past, true, but that did not mean I was given his confidence, far from it, he was purely professional and did everything by the book.

Until battle was joined.

He led from the front, always the first at the enemy. The Army insists that sergeants are to carry a laser pistol and a large sword. Horrigan mocked this statement, for he openly carried a laser carbine, smaller then the standard trooper’s laser yet large enough to ensure a steady rate of fire and lethality; As well as a small sword. The sword was a brutish weapon, double edged, and with a sharp point. It was made from a special alloy, it was practically indestructible by most battlefield technology; the exception being a direct hit by broadside fired from a battleship. It was covered in black lighting pulsating along the length of the blade, which in addition to the damage done by the sword blade, would eat through armour and skin, cauterizing it within seconds of the stroke. It could be thrust into the enemy, slashed at him, or finally bludgeon him with the hilt. My first thought after battle was over was that Horrigan is the sort of person to emulate. I set out to seek his council, whenever I could.

As the years progressed, through battles, big and small; and the months spent in endless travel,I came to rely upon him more and more. After a brutal siege, I recommended him for lieutenant for during the past year he had been filling my former billet after I was promoted to captain, it was official by the Lord General. I was the commanding officer of a regiment, and Horrigan was leader of the First Company. This was the elite, the group that led the way forward and was the last onto the dropships at the engagements conclusion.

And so we passed the five hours, as I got my story straight and regaled the men, again with my story. It seems to never grow dull, and there is always at least a few who call out for me to tell, it. Some times I do and others I’m too exhausted or occupied.

[But I know the conflict has many long years ahead of it]
Ending line of story here.

Trav the Spaz

Thursday, September 28, 2006


Oi Oi! Probably doing this a bit late, but better now then never, So here I begin. I like Punk music, I like to write, People say I'm good at writing, but I think I suck...I help another person on a band forum run our blog. It's sort of a mutual friendship now at this point. The blog mainly constists of rambling, or poetry. Well ok, sort of poetry; generally they're supposed to be song lyrics but since we both aren't good at singing or writing music, they're not set to it. So poetry it is.
Managing the blog mainly constists of cleaning up another members's spelling mistakes. We've no control over what anyone blogs content wise. Spelling has to be mostly grammetically correct, but any idea is out there. So hence, one person's stuff is sort of dark, while mine can be at times dark, but mostly a bit happy. The third, well she doesn't really post much so she's sort of by the wayside, but what she does post is always funny and intresting.
I've tried my hand writing short stories, but most of the time they're not that long because I can't get past writing a certain part. I have it planned out in my head, or even in an outline, but uncovering the fossil is hard work.
Always willing to share my work, but generally only solicit peoples opinions of the people I know, or whose opinions that I value and seek-This also doesn't just apply to the blog but to my life in general.
I dislike AIM messanger and prefer Windows live(formerly MSN messanger) and am online most of the time, only I don't leave away messages a lot, so if it says I'm on, then I'm probably there at my desk.
I really like the band Rancid's songs, and whom ever writes there stuff is my song writing idol, behind Joe Strummer(if you don't know who he was, well then, erm right we've probably nothing in common musically then)
I try to be loyal to my family and friends and love my family unconditionally especially my siste. I'll haul off and hit anyone who doesn't speak of her in any but the nicest of tones. So don't start in on her and you should be fine. I love my freinds too, but in a slightly different way- it takes me a bit longer to get mad over them, but I'd still haul of because of them, just not quite as fast as if anyone talked of my family.
See the thing is, I'm sort of skinny and not much use in a fight, but thats not the point, the point is I don't want them insulted. It helps that I've about five or so really good friends, if the number is even that high. I've been told I look a bit scary, but I don't try to be; sometime it just happens that way.
I really love my music and books. Music and CD's I could probably live with out. My "brain list" would keep me preoccupied for a while, but the books, I don't think i could survive with out reading something. Some of the books I like would be the Richard Sharpe Series(Best Historical Fiction in Earth)by Bernard Cornwell and for fantasy, other fiction titles include The Great Santini, the Discworld books by Terry Prattchett. Non fiction would probably be Das Boot; of course I'm probably missing some and will kickmyself as soon as I finish this, but then Murphy's law, what can we do.
Like Porkey the Pig always ended it with...Thats all for Now Folks!

Trav the Spaz

Johnny Rumble:
Anti-Nothing, Anti-Everything

You stand on both sides of the line
Never take up a cause of right
Your Anti-Nothing and Anti-Everything
Your a waste of my time

Anti-Roosevelt, draw on Social
Anti-business, wearing designer labels
Both left and right sided
Your Anti-Me and I'm Anti-You


Anti-Klan you racist pig
Anti-Nazi, seig heil away
Get fucked in the ass and
Deny it all the same


Anti-Whore, sleep with the cheaps
Anti-War and shoot your neighbor
Anti-Cockney, use thier slang
Anti-British, God save the Queen



I hate people that are apathetic to the cause...ANY cause.


Thursday, September 21, 2006


Bloodless Mutiny,
We don't care
So why should you?

Bloodless Mutiny!!
A revolution, thats so fair.
Now we are all chickens
Our heads are cut off,
You can just FUCK OFF!


Tuesday, September 19, 2006

I got a New laptop

I got a new laptop. Now before anyone says anything, I got way more then what I wanted, in a good way. I wasn't expecting anything this nice, and I really wonder what ive done to merit this. I'd like to think existing to 18 has some part of it, for those who know my history, but I'm shocked, that someone would do this for me. Talk about major kudos, this is possibly one of the best gifts ever. But I love both parents equaly and anyone tries to say the favorite game is bieng played, I'll deck them. I don't care about this or that parent, I love them both, and quite frankly don't need gifts to solidify that. Bed time

Trav the Spaz

Monday, September 18, 2006

Johnny Rumble:
18 With 0 Lives...

Keys in the ignition
Motor's roaring up the revs
I'm ready to hit the road
with 18 empties on the board

Driven like it's stolen
18 years of racing
with 18 broken parts
I'm never coming home

My cars too fast
I'm way past drunk
Hurling out the window
I'm an alcholic at the wheel

My stereo's broken
my boom box is jumping
exhaust just fell off
18 miles back

Hills and turns
18 and I lost count
18 more beers to drink
And down the street I go


I'll be on your lawn
broken glass around
18 mail boxes knocked down
With 18 empties lying around




Thursday, September 14, 2006

Dipshits are cool!

Oi Oi!

Ok, this is in respopnse to KWP's blog, sorry I've been a bit busy, and haven't been able to post.

John my apologies.

here it goes, something about my creative writing class

All you do is suck the fun
It makes me want to run
Take away my creativity
No more levity
It's all a bore.
I can't take much more.

So much for the muse,
For he's sitting on a fuse
No longer can he play
Your long lamented day
No rest for the weary
Until I've found my query.

Trav the Spaz

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Johnny Rumble:
Hey, Dipshit!...

Well fuck me. I start this blog, run it as my own, then add two of my friends to it as team members and all of the sudden they DON'T POST! Fuck, I'm getting tired of doing all the work around here.

Another jingle for you people. I feel like being nice today...

Already Dead

Humans are doomed
We consume the earth
And pollute the oceans
Some say it’s a farce
Maybe were not so bad
Were all gonna die

The People say one more car
It ain’t gonna hurt
Just a few more factories
We got em to burn
Let’s turn the motherfuckers up
Cause were already dead

Vast forests there for taking
Massive by-products
There’s no baby making
Were deformed to hell
But this is how it gotta be
In the 21st century


The Rivers run red
And blue and green
Shades of orange too
From all the chemicals
It will clean it self up
But we know the truth


While I don't apoligize about the anger and select words I've been using the past couple days, I'll try and tone it down to make the "Anti-Hero Experience" a little more kid-friendly in the future. Although, to be honest, I'm starting to like more hardcore direction is place is taking.

Custodial Clowns Abound!

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Johnny Rumble:

Standing upright
Bullets pointed at my heart
Even through the Blindfold
I can see who my enemies are
They say I’m guilty
They say I don’t deserve a trail
I’m labeled a terrorist
Branded a traitor

The CIA framed me
They broke through my door
Taken at gun point
Forced to stand for actions
That weren’t my own
The CIA executed me before my time

This government is corrupt
This government is immoral
They invaded countries
And took other peoples land
I was wire-tapped
And watched with a vigil
They had nothing on me
They need to justify the expense


I make no apologies:

Johnny Rumble:
Happy 5 fucking years.

3000 people died in a terrorist attack 5 years ago today. Who cares? At least that many people die from malnutrition, disease, and homicide every fucking hour. The people that died in the towers were all well fed and well cared for. It sucks, I understand, but know I have to put up with the NSA and CIA listening to my phone calls, spend even MORE time at the shitty ass airports, watch what I say and do else I be branded a terrorist, and have an overall feeling like the government is bending me over and fucking me in the ass deeper than ever before. Fuck That Shit.

A poem dedicated to 275 million American fuck heads:

I Wanna be an American

I wanna be an American
I wanna support the war on terrorism
And Hate the jews and gays
everything in between

I wanna be an American
I wanna see Patriot Act power expanded
And Invade countries on a whim
Watch the Effiel tower fall the ground

I wanna be an American
I wanna send my people off to die
And manipulate the media
To see only my point of view

I wanna be an American
I wanna sing Hail to the Chief
And watch as the prisons go up
Send the Japanese to jail

I wanna be an American
I wanna see my veterans’ poor
And pass laws against GLAAD
Making being gay a Federal Offence

I wanna be an American
I wanna see the bill of rights shredded
And my freedoms given up
For national security

I wanna be an American
But first I wanna die
Before I become an American

Fuck You All:

Friday, September 01, 2006

Johnny Rumble:
A new month...

It's September 1st, the begininning of a new month with new possibilites, new options, and a clean, fresh start. Hooray! The weather is nice (at least here), so it's time to get outside and run around. Annoy your neighbors, tick off passing motorists, bombard a shitbox Nissan with your empties. So many things to do! And a whole new month to them in! Take a tour, see the sites, go visit a nature park and commune with it. Heres a good one...Get arrested for disturbing the peace. Call that cop in the corner with an assualt rifle straped across his chest a, "Right Wing, Neo-Nazi, Totaltarian." Then spray paint SS his cars doors. Climb a fence into a rich, gated community and tear shit up. Then go into the slums and volenteer. Become a modern-day Robin Hood (which was really William Wallace of Braveheart fame). Hell...don a kilt and blue face paint and do your best Braveheart impersenations downtown. Go to an American Football (Detroit Lions for example) and trash talk both sides, the NFL, and thier fans. Then go to a MLS game and have a jolly good time. (Not so subliminal message, NFL Sucks! MLS/EPL Rules!) Chant a fight song at the top of your lungs at work.

All these things and more folks! Think about what you can do over the next 30 days.

But heres the most important thing for you to do:

Stay True To Yourself.