Showing posts with label Someone Else. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Someone Else. Show all posts

Friday, 22 February 2019

Dark Babylonian Aspect

The Other Angel :
Hey Dawn — Yeah, it’s Me.
Is Your Sister Home...?
She is...?

The Angelus hangs up the phone, scowling with irritability

It’s The Other One .....

Hail, Lord Someone Else !!!

All Hail The Dark Overlords of The Universe !!!

A lot's happened. Not just Angelus. 

I've been—I've changed. 

I've seen a Darkness in Myself. 

I'm not sure you'd even begin to understand —

I Flayed a Guy Alive 


Tried to Destroy The World.

[ Who Hasn’t? ]

Oh. So... 

(stands, doesn't make eye-contact

Been There.

Yeah. Well, I never flayed... 
(seems sickened)  

I had a woman chained in a closet.

Dude?!? Seriously...?


I Bet You Didn’t Even Think to Put a Bucket in There with Her....

Tuesday, 4 December 2018

What's The Difference Between Me and You?

“ I must point this out because it shows you how tricky The Press can be. The Press can make you not have any sympathy whatsoever for the death of thousands of people who look just like yourself, but at the same time, they make tears roll down your face over the loss of a few lives that don’t look anything like yourself. They manipulate your feelings.

So my advice to any of you who at any time think that you’ll ever be placed in a position of responsibility—you owe it to others as well as to yourself to be very careful about letting others make up your mind for you. You have to learn how to see for yourself, hear for yourself, think for yourself, and then judge for yourself.

Secondly, I would like to say this: It concerns my own personal self, whose image they have projected in their own light. I am against any form of racism. We are all against racism. 

The only difference between You and Me is that 
You want to fight racism and racists non-violently and lovingly 
I’ll fight Them the way They fight me

Whatever weapon They use, that’s the one I’ll use. 

I go for talking the kind of language He talks. 

You can’t communicate with a person unless you use the language He uses. 

If a man is speaking French, you can talk German all night long, he won’t know what you’re talking about. You have to find out what kind of language he understands and then you put it to him in the language that he understands.

I’m a Muslim, which means my religion is Islam. I believe in Allah. I believe in all of the prophets, whoever represented God on This Earth. 

I believe what Muslims believe: prayer, fasting, charity, and the pilgrimage to the Holy Land, Mecca, which I’ve been fortunate to have made four or five times. 

I believe in the Brotherhood of Man, all Men, but I don’t believe in brotherhood with anybody who doesn’t want brotherhood with me. 

I believe in treating people right, but I’m not going to waste my time trying to treat somebody right who doesn’t know how to return that treatment. 

This is the only difference between You and Me.

You believe in treating everybody right whether they put a rope around your neck or whether they put you in the grave. 

Well, my belief isn’t that strong. 

[ And I Doubt Very Much That Yours' is, Either - It's just simply never been tested... That's All. ]

I believe in The Brotherhood of Man, but I think that anybody who wants to lynch a Negro is not qualified for that Brotherhood and I don’t put forth any effort to get them into that Brotherhood. 

You want to Save Him and I don’t.

Despite the fact that I believe in the Brotherhood of Man as a Muslim, and in the religion of Islam, there is one fact also that I can’t overlook: I’m an Afro-American and Afro-Americans have problems that go well beyond religion. 

We have problems that our religious organization in itself cannot solve and we have problems that no one organization can solve or no one leader can solve. We have a problem that is going to take the combined efforts of every leader and every organization if we are going to get a solution. 

For that reason, I don’t believe that as a Muslim it is possible for me to bring my religion into any discussion with non-Muslims without causing more division, animosity, and hostility; then we will only be involved in a self-defeating action. 

So based upon that, there is a group of us that have formed an organization. Besides being Muslims, we have gotten together and formed an organization that has nothing to do with religion at all; it is known as the Organization of Afro-American Unity.

In this organization we involve ourselves in the complete struggle of the Afro-American in this country, and Our Purpose in becoming involved with a non-religious group is to give us the latitude to use any means necessary for us to bring an end to the injustices that confront us. 

I believe in Any Means Necessary. 

I believe that the injustices that we have suffered and will continue to suffer will never be brought to a halt as long as we put ourselves in a straitjacket when fighting those injustices.

Those of us in the Organization of Afro-American Unity have adopted as our slogan “By Any Means Necessary” and we feel we are justified. 

Whenever someone is treating you in a criminal, illegal, or immoral way, why, you are well within your rights to use anything at your disposal to bring an end to that unjust, illegal, and immoral condition. If we do it like that, we will find that we will get more respect and will be further down the road toward freedom, toward recognition and respect as human beings. But as long as we dillydally and try to appear that we’re more moral by taking a beating without fighting back, people will continue to refer to us as very moral and well disciplined persons, but at the same time we will be as far back a hundred years from now as we are today. So I believe that fighting those who fight us is the best course of action in any situation.

Again, if the Government doesn’t want Negroes fighting anyone who is fighting us, then the Government should do its job; the Government shouldn’t put the weight on us. If the Ku Klux Klan in Mississippi is carrying on criminal activities to the point of murdering black people, then I think if black people are men, human beings, the same as anybody else, you and I should have the right to do the same thing in defense of our lives and our property that all other human beings on this earth do in defense of their lives and in defense of their property, and that is to talk the language that the Klan understands.

So I must emphasize, we are dealing with a powerful enemy, and again, I am not anti-American or un-American. I think there are plenty of good people in America, but there are also plenty of bad people in America and the bad ones are the ones who seem to have all the power and be in these positions to block things that you and I need. Because this is the situation, you and I have to preserve the right to do what is necessary to bring an end to that situation, and it doesn’t mean that I advocate violence, but at the same time I am not against using violence in self-defense. 

I don’t even call it Violence when it’s Self-Defense, I call it Intelligence.

Wednesday, 28 November 2018

Childhood's End : Bad Wednesday

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” he said sadly. “I grew up long ago.” 

“Then why, then what – oh, I don’t understand. Where am I?” cried Jane, gazing about her in terror.

“Far from home, my child, far from home,” croaked the Great-Grandfather. “You are back in the Past – back where Christina and the boys were young sixty years ago!” 

Through her tears Jane saw his old eyes burning fiercely. “Then – how can I get home?” she whispered.

“You cannot. You will stay here. 

There is no other place for you. 

You are back in the Past, remember! 

The Twins and Michael, even your Father and Mother, are not yet born; Number Seventeen is not even built. 

You cannot go home!” 

“No, no!” cried Jane. “It’s not true! It can’t be.”

Her heart was thumping inside her. Never to see Michael again, nor the Twins, nor her Father and Mother and Mary Poppins! 

And suddenly she began to shout, lifting her voice so that it echoed wildly through the stone corridors.

“Mary Poppins! I’m sorry I was cross! Oh, Mary Poppins, help me, help me!” 

“Quick! Hold her close! Surround her!” She heard the Great-Grandfather’s sharp command. She felt the four children pressing close about her. She shut her eyes tight.

“Mary Poppins!” she cried again, “Mary Poppins!” A hand caught hers and pulled her away from the circling arms of Christina, Valentine, William and Everard.

“Heh! Heh! Heh!” The Great-Grandfather’s cackling laugh echoed through the room. The grasp on her hand tightened and she felt herself being drawn away. She dared not look for fear of those frightening eyes, but she pulled fiercely against the tugging hand. 

“Heh! Heh! Heh!” The laugh sounded again and the hand drew her on, down stone stairs and echoing corridors. She had no hope now. Behind her the voices of Christina and the Triplets faded away. 

No help would come from them. She stumbled desperately after the flying footsteps and felt, though her eyes were closed, dark shadows above her head and damp earth under her foot. What was happening to her? Where, oh, where was she going? If only she hadn’t been so cross – if only! The strong hand pulled her onwards and presently she felt the warmth of sunlight on her cheeks and sharp grass scratched her legs as she was dragged along. Then, suddenly, a pair of arms, like bands of iron, closed about her, lifted her up and swung her through the air.

“Oh, help, help!” she cried, frantically twisting and turning against those arms. She would not give in without a struggle, she would kick and kick and kick and. . .

 “I’ll thank you to remember,” said a familiar voice in her ear, “that this is my best skirt and it has to last me the Summer!”

Jane opened her eyes. A pair of fierce blue eyes looked steadily into hers.

The arms that folded her so closely were Mary Poppins’ arms and the legs she was kicking so furiously were the legs of Mary Poppins.

“Oh!” she faltered. “It was you! I thought you hadn’t heard me, Mary Poppins! I thought I should be kept there for ever. I thought—” 

“Some people,” remarked Mary Poppins, putting her gently down, “think a great deal too much. Of that I’m sure. Wipe your face, please!” 

She thrust her blue handkerchief into Jane’s and began to get the Nursery ready for the evening. Jane watched her, drying her tear-stained face on the large blue handkerchief.

She glanced round the well-known room. There were the ragged carpet and the toy cupboard and Mary Poppins’ armchair. At the sight of them she felt safe and warm and comforted. She listened to the familiar sounds as Mary Poppins went about her work, and her terror died away. A tide of happiness swept over her.

“It couldn’t have been I who was cross,” she said to herself. “It must have been somebody else.” And she sat there wondering who the Somebody was. . . “But it can’t really have happened!” scoffed Michael a little later when he heard of Jane’s adventure.  

“You’re much too big for the Bowl.” She thought for a moment. Somehow, as she told the story, it did seem rather impossible. “I suppose it can’t,” she admitted. “But it seemed quite real at the time.” 

“I expect you just thought it. You’re always thinking things.” He felt rather superior because he never thought at all.  

“You two and your thoughts!” said Mary Poppins crossly, pushing them aside as she dumped the Twins into their cots.

“And now,” she snapped, when John and Barbara were safely tucked in, “perhaps I shall have a moment to myself.”

She took the pins out of her hat and thrust it back into its brown-paper bag. She unclipped the locket and put it carefully away in a drawer. Then she slipped off her coat, shook it out, and hung it on the peg behind the door. 

“Why, where’s your new scarf?” said Jane.

“Have you lost it?” 

“She couldn’t have!” said Michael. “She had it on when she came home. I saw it.” Mary Poppins turned on them. “Be good enough to mind your own affairs,” she said snappily, “and let me mind mine!” 

“I only wanted to help—” Jane began.

“I can help myself, thank you!” said Mary Poppins, sniffing. Jane turned to exchange looks with Michael. But this time it was he who took notice. He was staring at the mantelpiece as if he could not believe his eyes. “What is it, Michael?” 

“You didn’t just think it, after all!” he whispered, pointing. Jane looked up at the mantelpiece.

There lay the Royal Doulton Bowl with the crack running right across it. There were the meadow grasses and the wood of alders. And there were the three little boys playing horses, two in front and one running behind with the whip.

But – around the leg of the driver was knotted a small, white handkerchief and, sprawling across the grass, as though someone had dropped it as they ran, was a red-and-white checked scarf.

At one end of it was stitched a large white label bearing the initials: M.P. “So that’s where she lost it!” said Michael, nodding his head wisely.

“Shall we tell her we’ve found it?” Jane glanced round. Mary Poppins was buttoning on her apron and looking as if the whole world had insulted her.

“Better not,” she said softly. “I expect she knows.” 

For a moment Jane stood there, gazing at the cracked Bowl, the knotted handkerchief and the scarf. 

Then with a wild rush she ran across the room and flung herself upon the starched white figure.  

“Oh,” she cried. “Oh, Mary Poppins! I’ll never be naughty again!” 

A faint, disbelieving smile twinkled at the corners of Mary Poppins’ mouth as she smoothed out the creases from her apron.

was all she said.