Mashieblade Productions Presents - "Holding Court" A brief poetic interlude by Poopstack Jones

From The Desk of :
"And Now For Something Completely Different"

I wrote this while I was sitting, waiting, in court one day.

One day of the great many days I have spent waiting
in various court rooms for this very issue.

I was waiting for a judge to determine how much Cunt-Tax I owed.

You may be shocked or even taken-aback by my
employment of such a word.

But, please trust me dear reader, when I say that
I am confined by the laws of communication and linguistics.

What I am trying to say is,
there are a finite amount of words I have at my disposal.

Abhorrent, though it may be.

To the best of my knowledge, and at the time of this writing,

It remains that the word in question
is the one which best suits my needs,
under auspices of conveying, clearly and unremittingly,
my perceived reality to you, the humble reader.

I use the aforementioned word to
define an instrument of jurisprudence,
which I will define thusly.

Cunt-Tax: The sum payment due as penalty for past association and/or affiliation with a person/entity by which is indicative of unsavory, unscrupulous and pernicious character/demeanor. Moreover, the person/entity will falsely present him/her/itself as to having the same/similar beliefs, mores, and values as the person the penalty is being levied against. Lastly, the malicious person/entity may be either male, female, or other in gender.

See Also: filthy-sewer-rat-which-will-pay-the-most-severe-of-price-at-the-hands-of-the-universe-in-the-name-of-balance-and-karma.

I believe that should clear things up for you.

If not, someone somewhere will eventually have to pay a “tax” because of you.

Ladies and Gentlemen,
Children of all ages,
Hearken close and you shall see,
The most amazing undertaking in this century.

I now present for you consideration.

"Holding Court"

12 August 2009
9:00 am – 9:55am EST.
1 year, 1 month, and 4 days later

Standing accused,

Without any good reason.

Returning on intervals,

On each single season.

A sadistic ploy,

Without any forethought.

A crucifixion is what,

The adversary sought.

Attentive student,

Of court I am.

Forced in defense,

Returning to stand.

My mind and body,

I lay before.

As the so-called truth,

Crosses the floor.

The Motivation of my nemesis,

Is only the game.

Viewing I, and killers,

And rapist the same.

Bruised and accused,

Battered and weak.

I grovel for justice,

Humbled and meek.

Enduring this torment,

Has become my penance.

Even before,

My judgment and sentence.

So sit as I will,

And withstand this offense.

Unknown and undone,

With no particular significance.

Case Dismissed

Modern Warfare and Fratricide

I have killed, no, that is not entirely accurate, I have murdered my brother playing call of duty 4. He lives in Connecticut and I live in Neck-land, Tennessee. The first time it happened was after a, seemingly endless period of humiliating carnage at my expense. This happened for no other reason except for the fact that my brother had been playing the game for 8 months and had "rolled" his rank over 5 times. He was comfortable with the controls, to say the least. His favorite form of dispatch was creeping up on me, and then whilst holding a Barrett .50 cal sniper rifle an inch away from the back of my head he would say to me, via crappy headset, "Hey, turnaround" and just at the moment of recognition...... well if you have any siblings you already know what happened next. Well this happened often, with all manner of ordnance. Probably, his favorite was with a rocket launcher where his character dies as well. Because, as he say, "The sad and unnecessary demise of my guy along with the emotional turmoil that will be inflicted on his fellow soldiers as well as his imaginary family, all of that pain and anguish is a payment I will gladly make if it results in the most infinitesimal amount of humiliation." Brothers, what can you say. This went on for sometime until one day last summer the impossible happened. I SHOT MY BROTHER IN HIS FUCKING FACE. Wow, it even feels good to type it. I was really perplexed by how fulfilling it is to murder one's own sibling. Now i hope you do understand that i can discern fantasy from reality. And, it is in no way a fantasy of mine to shoot my brother in the back of the head with a bolt-action Remington 700. However, repeatedly slaughtering an animated interim brother in XBOX-Land is quite a hoot. Of course, if I have learned anything from movies about life it is this, LEON (The Professional) has taught me that rifles are for beginners, the closer you get to being a pro the closer you can get to your target. Luckily, all characters are equipped with knives. Therefore, if you set your goals and work hard there is nothing you can't accomplish.
So in conclusion:

1. Murder = wrong, as well as highly illegal, and rightly so (most of the time).
2. Fratricide = also wrong, as well as also very illegal (most of the time).
3. The relentless depraved dispatch of a sibling's graphic surrogate, under the auspices of an Internet-based computerized warfare competition, in a most morbidly macabre manner, without remorse or moral ambiguity, for the advancement of nothing more than a modicum of temporarily fleeting humiliation, which will be wholly unknown to any other entity on the planet except for the poor bitch-boy who got buckwheated (if you don't know look it up) whilst peering out a second floor window of a bombed out hovel with an thirteen hundred dollar, military grade, telescopic sight stuck to his presumptuous, self-righteous visage = PRICELESS.