Wednesday, January 17, 2018

How To Reverse The Decline Of An Empire


Sometimes I go to remote places and "zone out" into the universe. I step out - however briefly - of the shackles of the world and let myself see what I can see. If anyone knew I was doing this, of course, I'd be killed. Almost nobody wants to be seen from this perspective and they are willing to kill you in order to prevent it (afterwards you'll receive their highest praise, though! Just like with MLK. When only like him when he's dead.) But I figure I'm dead anyway and nightmares are killing me and there is no savior so why not experience what good I can?

Then my alien friend Spock showed up. That's not his real name, just what I call him. I won't bother describing him to you because then you'd think that's important. But he showed up one time long ago and I didn't freak out (which is why he showed himself). He just comes out of nowhere because he travels interdimensionally. You don't get frequent flier miles with that because no miles are actually involved (I asked).

I call my secret place "Trouble Valley". There's always trouble in this world, ya know. As much as I hate people and want them to die, I don't want them to have to die. But I know there's no saving a tree that refuses water. Why can't we see that Nature's laws trump Man's laws and that observing that is our only way to survival? We can at least do that, right? But the longer we wait, the higher the price. Life is never easy. Not when we throw the baby out with the bath water.

When Spock showed up I asked what would it take to reverse our downfall here in America. He said many people ask that but no one accepts the answer. "Sort of like your Sixties revolution that never happened." I said I understood and that I knew the stakes are getting higher every day. Our ever rising consciousness is making time run out. Then he gives me a variation of the old saying people get the government they deserve.


"So change must come from us. Check. But what exactly should we demand?"

Spock relates the story of Joshua's army getting their ass kicked because there was those among them who were poisoning their efforts. For the sake of a few an entire nation would have been wiped out and no one would have ever heard of the Hebrews today. He said as long as we keep allowing people who poison the well to lead us we are doomed. We raise up the wrong voices.

"OK, but how do we get the right ones in? Grassroot campaigns? Feverish blogging? Marching protests? What? WHAT?"

"The rule of law must first be re-established. The 21st century by your calendar is your time of reckoning. You start out by invading a country that never attacked you to take their resources! That is a crime, my friend, and all crimes have consequences. Next you put in a leader who enslaves you deeper than ever before in your vicious bartering system. And if you need to be told what's wrong with your current leader you have lost all reason anyway. I certainly feel for the animals on your planet who live at your mercy."

"Me too..."

"So you must charge these three usurpers with betrayal and not acting in your best interest and then have them destroyed in whatever fashion you choose. I guarantee you the following leaders will not betray you."

"Makes sense but seems kind of harsh. Lots of people will be upset when they see someone they sold their soul for strapped to a table getting a lethal injection."

"That's only because you have not reached time of revelation. These three have put blood and misery on your hands. You will pay for that! Establishing order will be freeing as well as sobering. Not a planet in the universe that hasn't gone through that."

"At least we aren't the only dumb fuckers! Still, that seems way overboard for a solution. What if we just keep ignoring our past sins and hope for the best?"

"Then you'll watch your children starve to death right before your very eyes. It will be too late to do anything then because you will have forfeited your say (and you'll forfeit your say in the name of keeping you safe!). You will beg to go back in time and put these men on trial because the choice will be so obvious after the fact. It will be an inescapable hell and what's unthinkable today will be thinkable tomorrow."

"That's just brutal."

"Indeed."


Joshua knew he'd one day be on the History Channel!

The Lord had said that everything in Jericho belonged to him. But Achan from the Judah tribe took some of the things from Jericho for himself. And so the Lord was angry with the Israelites, because one of them had disobeyed him.

2 While Israel was still camped near Jericho, Joshua sent some spies with these instructions: “Go to the town of Ai and find out whatever you can about the region around the town.”

The spies left and went to Ai, which is east of Bethel and near Beth-Aven. 3 They went back to Joshua and reported, “You don’t need to send the whole army to attack Ai—two or three thousand troops will be enough. Why bother the whole army for a town that small?”

4-5 Joshua sent about three thousand soldiers to attack Ai. But the men of Ai fought back and chased the Israelite soldiers away from the town gate and down the hill to the stone quarries. Thirty-six Israelite soldiers were killed, and the Israelite army felt discouraged.

6 Joshua and the leaders of Israel tore their clothes and put dirt on their heads to show their sorrow. They lay facedown on the ground in front of the sacred chest until sunset. 7 Then Joshua said:

Our Lord, did you bring us across the Jordan River just so the Amorites could destroy us? This wouldn’t have happened if we had agreed to stay on the other side of the Jordan. 8 I don’t even know what to say to you, since Israel’s army has turned and run from the enemy. 9 Everyone will think you weren’t strong enough to protect your people. Now the Canaanites and everyone else who lives in the land will surround us and wipe us out.

10 The Lord answered:

Stop lying there on the ground! Get up! 11 I said everything in Jericho belonged to me and had to be destroyed. But the Israelites have kept some of the things for themselves. They stole from me and hid what they took. Then they lied about it. 12 What they stole was supposed to be destroyed, and now Israel itself must be destroyed. I cannot help you anymore until you do exactly what I have said. That’s why Israel turns and runs from its enemies instead of standing up to them.

13 Tell the people of Israel, “Tomorrow you will meet with the Lord your God, so make yourselves acceptable to worship him. The Lord says that you have taken things that should have been destroyed. You won’t be able to stand up to your enemies until you get rid of those things.

14 “Tomorrow morning everyone must gather near the place of worship. You will come forward tribe by tribe, and the Lord will show which tribe is guilty. Next, the clans in that tribe must come forward, and the Lord will show which clan is guilty. The families in that clan must come, and the Lord will point out the guilty family. Finally, the men in that family must come, 15 and the Lord will show who stole what should have been destroyed. That man must be put to death, his body burned, and his possessions thrown into the fire. He has done a terrible thing by breaking the sacred agreement that the Lord made with Israel.”

16 Joshua got up early the next morning and brought each tribe to the place of worship, where the Lord showed that the Judah tribe was guilty. 17 Then Joshua brought the clans of Judah to the Lord, and the Lord showed that the Zerah clan was guilty. One by one he brought the leader of each family in the Zerah clan to the Lord, and the Lord showed that Zabdi’s family was guilty. 18 Finally, Joshua brought each man in Zabdi’s family to the Lord, and the Lord showed that Achan was the guilty one.

19 “Achan,” Joshua said, “the Lord God of Israel has decided that you are guilty. Is this true? Tell me what you did, and don’t try to hide anything.”

20 “It’s true,” Achan answered. “I sinned and disobeyed the Lord God of Israel. 21-22 While we were in Jericho, I saw a beautiful Babylonian robe, two hundred pieces of silver, and a gold bar that weighed the same as fifty pieces of gold. I wanted them for myself, so I took them. I dug a hole under my tent and hid the silver, the gold, and the robe.”

Joshua had some people run to Achan’s tent, where they found the silver, the gold, and the robe. 23 They brought them back and put them in front of the sacred chest, so Joshua and the rest of the Israelites could see them. 24 Then everyone took Achan and the things he had stolen to Trouble Valley. They also took along his sons and daughters, his cattle, donkeys, and sheep, his tent, and everything else that belonged to him.

25 Joshua said, “Achan, you caused us a lot of trouble. Now the Lord is paying you back with the same kind of trouble.”

The people of Israel then stoned to death Achan and his family. They made a fire and burned the bodies, together with what Achan had stolen, and all his possessions. 26 They covered the remains with a big pile of rocks, which is still there. Then the Lord stopped being angry with Israel.

That’s how the place came to be called Trouble Valley.



Monday, January 15, 2018

President Zero Is My Hero


I've watched that Morning Joe dude talk about Trumpy's "33% solution", in that Dingleberry's one and only focus is in maintaining his base. Joe gets all vexed and frustrated not understanding why the Idiot-in-Chief doesn't try to expand his support. Seems logical, right? Start with your hardcore supporters then bring in a few other groups and build a coalition. Sounds reasonable.

But he's missing the overall - to borrow a phrase from "All The President's Men". While there are many "i" words associated with our insecure imbecile, the one I never hear is the one most appropriate: Inadequate. President Loser knows he's a loser, believes he can be nothing but a loser, and wages a permanent campaign to cover that up. See, in the mind of the inadequate, his only choice is to keep what he's got because no one knowing the truth could possibly support him. It's 33% or zero.

Let's look at the logic another way. Suppose you were a New York City blowhard braggart, building your ego on being a real estate tycoon in the most glamorous market in the world. That reputation to Donny boy is his reason for living. But it turns out another "i" word - incompetence - dogs you when you can't even make the rigged math of a casino work for you. You're faced with being a laughingstock and thrown into the dustbin of history.

But you decide not to face your reckoning. Foreign countries play fast and loose with the rules more than America does. You even espouse legalizing overseas bribery. You are a desperate, desperate boy! Then you latch onto a money laundering scheme. This you love because it allows for your two favorite pastimes - lying and deceiving - to serve your monetary interests. All the suckers are playing it straight. But clever you beat the system.


Gradually, people start calling you a success again. Just win, baby. You're a big shot on the New York social scene and revered by the little people as a successful businessman. Back on top you start to lose perspective on who you really are. But you're on a runaway train. You can never stop lying, you can never stop deceiving - not even for a second. The alternative is unthinkable.

Especially when you're compromised by a hostile foreign power having a sex tape of you, showing you in all your inadequacy before the world! Wouldn't surprise me the least bit to see pussy Putin release it when he's threw with Donald Duck, if nothing else but to embarrass the US for electing someone so thoroughly pathetic. Now, can you possibly imagine the fear you'd be living in??

Facing jail for you and your family, Russian hookers peeing on your head, reviled and repulsed around the world permanently. You would go down as one the most disgraced public figures in history. My, you are a clever boy!

Put in that "No one can possibly love me" perspective, Trumpy's behavior makes perfect sense. Lie like a maniac, stir the pot, throw verbal bombs, do anything to deflect. His insatiable craving for others to humiliate themselves around him stands to reason because he doesn't want to go down alone. He needs to denigrate all of America. Like Hitler's sick henchman, we see the craven souls who cooperate in this endeavor. They too will be branded onto the pages of history as traitors and psychotics (Hi Sarah Huckabee!).

Who knows how this will end. How many of us have truths we want to avoid. My favorite hope is he has a Scarface moment, where one instance of humanity is his undoing. [Scarface refuses to do a hit for a fellow drug lord once he sees children will be killed. That drug lord then takes him out.] In the meantime, damage is being done and lives lost. Unfortunately, there won't be any Nuremberg trials to sort this out later.


Saturday, January 13, 2018

Goupil: Anatomy Of A Blackmare

Something like this happen anytime I close my eyes,
day or night...

i have triggers...in movie i see it say chicago university "where fun goes to die"...i did hit there once and hear that phrase...i felt guilty but that not stop hit...felt i was killing fun for others...i was cause for phrase...so after seeing in movie that start my blackmare...descent has begun...

it was spring and everything was beautiful but me...i wanted to be part of that green campus and those kids...no one on outside looking at me focusing only on assembling gun ever guess i think of that...so that aching come back years later now...hurting me...

please stop hurting me, please stop hurting me

next thing i know i'm back in paris on metro...it's when my first feelings of not belonging start...why not kill them if they don't want me?...always feeling they can have something i can not...roots of anger, a killer is born...years and years think i'm justified...like a mad passion...never wanting to admit i was cheating myself...

please stop hurting me, please stop hurting me

many blurry scenes...feeling out of control...world is swirling...man calls me mr. precision...i latch onto any identity, any approval...was looking and searching...searching for what?...running away...on the run...merde!, merde! merde!...always think in french remembering those times...frustration building...catches me when eyes beg to shut...

please stop hurting me, please stop hurting me

too much russian talk in news...please stop flashbacks!!!!!!!!!!!!...i'm back on train through urals in winter...heater breaks, barely working...all passengers bundled up, trapped...i couldn't enjoy spectacular icy landscape so angry...still not over it...was angry about being cheated!...finally had someone to blame not me...but still could have enjoyed if wanted...just wanted someone else to blame for misery for once...but that was me cheating me again...mired on runaway train...

please stop hurting me, please stop hurting me

oh, damn...the woman with smokey eyes...part of me still in backroom of russian club...i resist then but surrender now...she still have piece of my soul...she know that, invading my dreams...russian subway dream always black and white...europe, america in color...but russia pulls me back...that feeling in subway car...generations of being watched and surveillance...felt like i was in tube with dogs that can turn any minute...repressed...only good inside was unreal streak of light and hope for them...couldn't get it out...maybe they be angry with me, loose inner dog...

please stop hurting me, please stop hurting me

smokey woman comes back...cannot escape her...she not child woman but full woman...rare, so hard to find...knows her true female power...never blame men for state of her life...asking me again if i want to please her...she knows what missing from life of killer...how many men has she lured before...i thought that in french, was tiny thread that save me...i said no then but surrender now...i know they have sex tape of american president...she was mob woman...i was to make hit then be hit...american senator got caught (him still there haunting me), wanting evidence destroyed...i was evidence too...disposable...

please stop hurting me, please stop hurting me

still torn...never whole...curves behind her clinging black dress!...please stop talking about russia...please stop sending me back...see her smile..."don't you want to please me?"...to please a woman like that!...i never get over...hard beat of music from main room bleeding through...still see her soft, delicate hand...holding pig nose for me to put on...step through door and she will unburden you...how many men before, i keep asking myself, how many men before...i tell her i'll be right back, just let me get money...then run on russian subway...

please stop hurting me, please stop hurting me

lady coming out of her new york townhouse...real lady in the real world...i must apologize, make amends...she doesn't want to hear it...i assume...she goes down through door underground to get where she needs to go...i can't just chase after her...i must deceive...thinking in french...there's a hole i can jump into...i can swim through the pipes to get ahead of her and then pretend we are running into each other...can't be seen chasing...moving along in dark pipes, just enough air up top...but then get lost...CAN'T GET OUT...water rises!...no way back!...buried alive! buried alive!

That's when I wake up screaming, heart pounding, seeing only black before me. The deeper the sleep the deeper the scream. Must stay awake at all times. Movie assassins never cry. Real life ones can't stop.

please stop hurting me, please stop hurting me



Friday, January 12, 2018

Goupil: This Won't Change A Thing


I was on the floor crying, cut off from the light. I'd "won". I'm untraceable, untouchable, unreachable. My pursuers have either given up or been diverted by life's more important pursuits. So here I am at the edge of the universe where my body is safe but my soul endangered. Maybe preserving my body's life here wasn't right decision after all.

I scream but no sound comes out. I'm more alone than any man in even deepest solitary confinement prison. At least someone knows he's there. I can trust no one. It's not police who are problem. They must to tell themselves lies on who they are. Anyone like that can always be defeated. But these criminals who run this world have no such delusion. You do have problem when they want you dead.

And they do want me dead.

I'm proverbial loose end. From time as boy on French docks entering the underworld I've been angry. I talk about this before. That anger led me here. Only looking back do I see exits I passed up in horrific stupidity. She was knocking on my door and I was too afraid to answer. I couldn't let her see the assassin in me. But I should have. Maybe she pull me out of this life. I never give her a chance. I can still see her blonde ponytail as she walking away. I was paralyzed fear.

So ending up at mercy of worst of the worst is my fate. Most people not even know actual order of the world. They fools thinking they'll be safe in colleges and careers and cash. Rest are slaves who think it wrong standing up for themselves (because system say it need slaves). But I know these men. I saw them with my own eyes. Only very few when seeing news know real truth. Dummy news people never connect dots. They can't because they know it won't sell. Having no future never sell well.

I can't deny I have no future even if I want to.


We never let this happen to blonde haired, blue eyed people.

But I hate those men who bring hell. I'm boiling mad. They are never held to the account! As their one time tool I Goupil am held to account. Young assassins think they smart to be on winning side. But they fools in the pain. I myself barely wake up in time to see my purpose have no purpose. Those who won't let go get eaten up and spit out. Their graves never visited.

You see, there are two types of men. The dog barkers, as I call them, are thieves of men's souls. But they cannot act. They like cripples in chair. If their silver tongue lies don't convert a following they end up talking to themselves on street corner. They need killers do their bidding for these barkers to be effective. Praise is their currency. They use it to get elected, drawing legions to their side. Truest mobsters are those who use mob rule. Men in suits are greatest monsters of all time.

Now I face my greatest problem: once a killer always a killer.

I put away gun. Take vow of nonviolence. But that not solve problem. You see, it not change my past and it not change who I am. I struggle and struggle and struggle. Was hoping to find a way maybe I not see before. Nothing come. Am walking dead. Too clever to be caught. Not clever enough to live. Even when I spoke out truth no one hear me. Maybe I should go out with a bang. Would be worth it if my truth come to light. But this criminal world never want the truth. They want only what suits them. This I have found.

Sometimes I get the American fast food. You ever see those people working in there? They are helpless lambs. Some are scared and believe for savior to come help them. But they must save themselves. Some are angry because they know they are being screwed. But that anger blinds them. Very few put their trust in life. And if life let them down then life must answer for it. What else can person do?

That is question I ask every day.

If Hitler had worn only Hawaiian shirts,
could he have seized ultimate power?

It take many armies to save Jews from holocaust. Would take even bigger army to save these working poor. Phony man pose as savior laughing as he betray. Same as they must have laughed when I so eager to believe. These suit men are biggest rapists. Through them come rape of the world. African warlords (me never work for) use starvation and literal rape as means of control. Any man who not agree to do same they kill. But these Americans do same thing. You scramble to survive and they call it a dream! Who is it dream for?

I know these things very much because my contract killer money run out. I know I cannot go back to contract killing. It's not in me anymore (I tried). You ever hear phrase "honest money"? I guess it can be if you do what you want. But that not me. My money dishonest because I not do what I want. Coffee shop talkers and internet bloggers think they have it figured out. But minute you think you have it figured out, you're wrong. Mainly, they just want to argue. Keeps them from facing the truth.

And like I say before, truth it not sell.

Man steal a bread and he's marked for life. Same if he rape a woman or molest a child. They say to let someone like that walk street for even single second is wrong. But if you rob, rape and molest whole country, many fight to lift you up. Criminals in charge for a reason. So if you take gun and shoot biggest criminal in world, nothing change. Takes a village of criminals to elect criminal.

But I want to shoot them so bad! Let them know someone hate what they do. Someone see what they do. These are murderers wearing masks. Many who protect them know this too. But they not want to be discovered as murderer accomplice. It conspiracy without passing words. If people knew what really come of this they put all these monsters in jail. But they hate themselves thinking getting approval for hate will save them. But it just destroy everyone in the end. No person can escape what a person do (I tried).

So that only reason I let psychopath, child molesting, mass terror, fire bomber, lifeline cutting, smiling holocaust creep Speaker of House live. God must put his kind in the oven.


Sunday, January 07, 2018

Secret Project

Been working on a secret project. May or may not publish it but it won't be here if I do. Title is "Welcome To Planet Lizard". Been on it a month. No idea when it will be done. Thorns of the world are winning right now. God loves them thorns! Stay tuned.

Thursday, January 04, 2018

The Absent Gardener


Another flower sighed and wailed before finally dying from a lack of sunlight from the blocking weeds.

"Where is justice? Where is hope? Where is life? Why does the Gardener not value me? Soon, there will be nothing but weeds left and then they will choke each other out and it will be as if the garden never existed. What's the point of this? Why must sun be given equally to flowers and weeds?"

A weed monster laughed. "How stupid it is to be a flower! Survival of the fittest, baby!"

His fellow weeds guffawed in agreement. Ever since the weeds first started invading the garden their numbers had grown. At first the weeds spoke glowingly of the flowers and how much they admired the flowers' beauty. But as time passed, the hideous nature of the self-loathing weeds started to surface and as their numbers increased they grew more bold in their hate. One thing, though, would not - and could not - ever change: an all-consuming need and desire to be accepted by the flowers.

What made the weeds so bitter in their rooting was their choice not to be a flower, fearing they could never muster the beauty required. Until one actually flowers, how can one ever know one's true worth? So they chose the path of the weed, forever doomed to rationalizing that fearful mistake, embarrassed to live as prisoners of doubt, losers in life.

Knowing this about themselves made them hate the flowers even as they envied their elegance and grace. But weeds have one ability flowers do not: the ability to choke out surrounding life (though done at the expense of their own which they do not value). Helpful flowers warned the weeds to change explaining the Gardener will return one day and pull them out.

"Ha, that's just so much philosophy! There is no Gardener! That's just a fiction you made up to make yourselves feel better. There is no truth! Why should we ever listen?"

The flowers, of course, knew that was a fiction made up by the weeds to make themselves feel better. "It's just a matter of knowing the science." But as the weeds forsook their shame, they began to mock the flowers and speak of the "beauty" of weeds, and that to speak well of weeds was the new enlightenment. That sowed doubt in some flowers who then beseeched "tolerance" of the choking weeds. These fooled flowers hoped against hope the weed's destructive nature would change however impossible that might be. They could see no other possible way to a future.


Seeing nothing to stop them, weed power continued to ascend as their numbers grew while flowers dwindled. "Mob rule cannot be denied!" Weeds believed declaring flowers to be evil would enable a weedy future. Flowers were declared enemies of the state since preserving life meant the end of weed rule. A new abnormal arose as the weeds killed in toxic glee, all the while claiming they were the victims having been (self-)denied beauty in their life. It was a time of darkness never seen before. Hell had come for breakfast.

Heady with their rule - however short-lived - the weeds claimed the Gardener loved them more than the flowers. They declared themselves as plants of "true faith" and heaped praise upon the Gardener "who has placed us in our rightfully ascendant position." But no amount of words could relieve the weeds from needing the flowers' acceptance. They cursed the flowers as "morally bankrupt" and "corrupt" for not following holy weedy ways. Frustrated and terrified, the weeds decided the only way to find peace would be to eliminate the flowers altogether - and no force in the universe could stop them.

Then the sun disappeared in a shadow. This initially made the weeds rejoice thinking their dark deeds could remain hidden. For no matter how self-sanctioned they made their killings, the weeds could not escape the self-knowledge of their insanity. Even when they "won" they lost, satisfaction perpetually escaped them. But the shadow was not the savior they hoped. It was the shadow of the returning Gardener.

The weeds wailed as they felt their roots being pulled up from the ground. "Please don't kill us! We want to live!"

"Why would I want a garden of weeds? What farmer throws away the wheat and keeps the chaff? I gave the garden time to grow and you made your choice. The sun was denied to no one and the sun is all you need to be a flower. But now time is up and garden life must be preserved. What the fuck did you think was going to happen??"

Uprooted for eternity, the weeds could never return. Now fully mature, the flowers spread over the remaining ground making it impossible for weed life. They lived in unity and in communion with the Gardener as the point of their previous faith was fully realized. Truth never wins until the end but then it wins forever.



Tuesday, December 26, 2017

The Koehler Incident


"Know upon whom you press."

This phrase is not often spoken anymore by the Russian Secret Service. There's not as much need to - for even the most evil of organisms must grow or die. The state police for Russia goes back centuries, a creation of the Tsars out of a self-awareness of their disconnected cruelty and the resulting expected backlash. At this point in history the ruling class need have no such fear as the Russian psyche is so self-inflicted with negativity they oppress themselves out of a false sense of patriotism. There's your riddle solved, Mr. Churchill.

Pride for a Russian is in how much abuse one can take. The more cruel a leader the greater the sacrifice. The more one can sacrifice the greater one must be! In futility they trust. How many empty Vodka bottles does it take to fill that hole? But all the while the Russian soul is desperately craving for the acceptance and respect from the West it does not give itself. This is how they are able to perpetually see themselves as victims, illusioned as a permanent lesser people. That gives free reign to the Secret Police to unleash the worst of the country's repressed demons onto the population - as their behavior is the measuring stick of their society's health.

In the 60's, at the height of the cold war, Russia wallowed in both her power and her helplessness. The only thing she fears more than her enemies is not having an enemy (for then who can they blame for their woes?). So they worshiped at the altar of an imagined peril from the West and the always present fear of a population that will one day throw off the yoke of an unjust and undeserving government. For the rulers at that time, this meant little was out of bounds when it came to sacrificing before these two gods.

Looking back, it's now seen the KGB of that era had gotten cocky with decades of resistanceless wins to its credit. It was business as usual when the government official - a very high functionary in the Politburo - and an assassin agent approached Heinrich Koehler [the 'oe' pronounced as a long ā] in a small dank room deep in the heart of East Berlin.


"You recognize this picture? It's of your mother, no? Soon she will know the freezing cold of Siberia in her bones. Your young nephews and nieces will know only the labor camps as their future. Your uncle to whom you still write will know the joys of a cell in Lubyanka [a notorious KGB prison of torture]. Years of tears will flow if you do not do as we say. Can you imagine these things happening?"

The assassin sat never taking his eyes off Heinrich, almost smiling as he heard the hells listed by his compatriot. He had the stench of death about him, a sewer rat who no longer cared in what filth he swam. The killer knew the effect his coldness had on strangers and enjoyed watching them shiver.

"I, I understand," acquiesced Heinrich in troubled tones. Then he received his detailed instructions.

In the language of the day, Heinrich Koehler was a henpecked man. He lived outnumbered with his wife and mother-in-law (who lived up to every stereotype and then some). His wife Lydia knew what she wanted and went after it with ruthless efficiency. She preyed upon the needs of men, eventually trapping Heinrich with a child. Having achieved dominance, Lady Lydia used her husband as a pack horse to sustain her (and her mother too, of course) in relentless suffocation. To hear her tell it the only thing her husband had ever done right was get his promotion to supervisor of the guards at the East Berlin prison where he was employed.

"You've got to be tough!" she implored their only child, Ian. "The world is never changing and you must suck it up if you want to get by!" Ian eventually joined the black market German underworld, providing his mother with forbidden fruit of the West. She couldn't have been more proud. Ian despised his father.


That night in bed, Heinrich heard the Russian official's hissing voice all over again.

"Next week, on your night shift, you will let in my man to these two isolation cells." In those cells were two Russian escapees. Why they had to be killed Heinrich did not know. One thing he did know for certain was the seriousness of the situation having two men such as these involved. After a lifetime spent in devotion to non-confrontation this was his was his worst nightmare. Heinrich would have blood on his hands with or without his cooperation. The only question was whose.

It was also a cruel irony that the only reason he was being pressed to do this was the fact as supervisor he had access the normal guards did not. The one single "good" thing he'd done in his life was now being used against him. That's what happens when you step outside of your circle, fool! Much as he tried, Heinrich could not convince himself of the worthless of the two men's lives even as compared to his own relatives. He tried to stuff the rationalization down his throat but could never fully swallow.

He also could not share his situation with his wife. She and her cohort mother would have no qualms about his cooperating, not even seeing a need to question it. The two prisoners' lives would be gone in the blink of an eye if it were up to the two scheming women. Daylight was nowhere to be found. (Had he lived a few decades later Heinrich would have found a bitter partiality in the #metoo movement with its narrative of only female victimization).

Me too

In his torment, Koehler also failed to realize one other ruthless detail: after the deed was done he'd become a loose end needing cleaned up - permanently.

As the days passed until he went onto the night shift, the official's photographs tortured the prison guard's mind. Having time to imagine the worst only made the pressure more difficult. He wondered if they planned it that way, knowing that time was working in their favor, softening him up. When the night in question arrived he was spent and his will destroyed. He'd have to be tough like the world. He'd have to become like his wife. Grow up, Heinrich! he could hear her demand.

The Iron Curtain was a land of dark secrets. Each soul lived for its failures never to be revealed. But Heinrich's time had come. His current secret being no matter how terrible the nightmares he couldn't fully resolve to the killing of the two men in his care. Heinrich was one of the few guards not hated by the prisoners. He could never lift his hand to abuse them - he already knew what it's like to live life as a prisoner.

The face of the creeping assassin was even more hideous as it delighted in the unrestrained glee of betrayal. Was easy to see his drowning soul lived for these moments of butchering, the crushing of all hope. He savored the telling of his final morsel from hell.


"It's you who will do the killing."

Heinrich stepped backwards as if physically struck. That very much pleased the assassin, his resolute smile giving no quarter.

"No...no..I can't..."

"You must use your gun. It's the only way. Do it for your family. These two men mean nothing."

The real plan was to have the entirety of the killings blamed on the guard, who then dies of a "heart attack." The assassin was there only to clean up the mess. He never could understand the stupidity of people who left themselves so vulnerable. They got what they deserved.

"You don't understand..."

"I very much understand. Do I need make this any clearer?"

"No. No, I understand."

The guard turned to pass through onto the isolation cells. The assassin grinned. The devil was coming to collect a soul that night.

But had the killer not been so smug, so self-assured in the sanction of his blackmail in a godless but blind world, he might of noticed the coming explosion in Heinrich's head. The shame of a lifetime was building steam. That "something wrong" that had plagued and hounded him for decades could no longer be denied. Finally, he decided he was dead no matter what he did.

They reached the first cell. "Unholster your gun," the voice to his right commanded. Heinrich did so. "Now open the door."

Opening the door meant exposure and permanent branding as a lifelong loser. Bad enough to be mocked and ridiculed at home, but now it would be everyone and everywhere - even at work! Heinrich snapped.

"FICK DICH!"

The revolver emptied all six rounds into the ordering agent. But Heinrich wasn't killing only him, but every tormentor of the "soft" man who could do no right. He had to preserve that final piece of his soul. Time for the world to grow up. In the corner of his ear he heard hastening footsteps stomping down the hallway.


EPILOGUE: Had it occurred in Russia and not East Berlin there might have been a full cover up. As it was, the photos and the entire story of the botched assassination came to light. The party official who orchestrated it was disgraced and denounced by the very people who ordered him to do it (not for the attempt or methodology, but for failing). Heinrich and his family suffered no repercussions. By losing himself he saved himself (the anti-Obama).

To persecute Heinrich would be to admit the killing of a KGB agent - a chink in their allegedly invincible armor. That could not be tolerated. But Koehler's shot was one heard 'round the Soviet empire, poking a hole in the secret forces' own naivete of the evil of its blanket oppression. A line had been crossed and to keep crossing it would ultimately mean their own destruction. While direct assassinations still continue to this day, the use of ritual blackmail of family members faded in disrepute. In the end, everyone wants to live.