H.R. Porter

Words to remember:

"One man's breakfast is another man's dinner and the farmer in Indonesia still makes a dollar a month". Doesn't that sentence just fill you with Pride? Not because what it tells us but how it's written, the Way it's written. I don't know about you but that sentence is amongst my better sentences ever and you can't wish for a better strike of genius 03:38 on a Sunday night, by God.

On a night like this there is no use in trying to force something, no, but instead just go with the Flow and you get that kind of magic out of it. It doesn't matter how many bars you visit or how many drugs, of any kind, you take in search of that special feeling; nothing beats the moment when That Sentence is born and you just know that you have to see it on paper or at least the screen of the computer.

The simplicity of the sentence entices me and lures me away from any kind of analyzing of what the sentence really means and what it tries to communicate with the reader. Since I'm the author of that sentence I should have a firm grasp on what the sentence means but do I? No. None whatsoever. At the moment that sentence formed in my mind it erased everything that created it, like a virus or something sinister. The sentence looked at it's Creator with the same look the dog catcher gives to a rabid dog that will be taken behind the house and put to sleep with a shotgun, yes, indeed I felt that look burning me, branding me forever. I will not escape that fact that I'm the father of that sentence; I'm the Father, Author and in the end I'm also its Prophet. I come with Great News; a Sentence has been born. A Sentence that will take its place as First amongst my Writings. By Jove, that is the proper spirit for it; Religion and Impending Doom.

Oh yes, I sure know how to Strike that Serious Note once in a while but I never play it too long. No, it's more like the subtle genius of Tchaikovsky where a hidden note can make your head to sour or when the slightest change alters your mood. Not that I compare myself with the Great Master, no, but what I do is hard to describe other ways. History will Judge me on that and find me too small and insignificant (with lower case letters) and leave me forgotten and gone. I take comfort in that; the fact that you will always be the Loser takes away a lot of pressure, ey?

But if there is something I would want the world to remember after I move on is the fact that I was the author and creator of that sentence. If nothing else that I do matters I place all my Hopes and Dreams on that one sentence and send it away through the eons of time and pray that it will one day find home again. For now it nests within me but tomorrow it's yours.

Oh, how I wish that nights like these could be more plentiful and my Cup would never be dry. One can wish for the stars and receive nothing but tonight I got a Shooting  Star. That's the ending for today/yesterday I was looking for.

"One man's breakfast is another man's dinner and the farmer in Indonesia still makes a dollar a month"

Dr. H.R.P.

Här skulle text 6 av "The Great Raven Archives" av Dr. H.R.P. komma men på grund av mycket stränga ord och pålagor från författaren, Dr. H.R.P., kommer texten inte att publiceras. När jag frågade honom varför denna text inte fick publiceras så sa han att det berodde hans starka tro på att 66,67 % av text 6 (som jag kan avslöja skulle hetat "King Frog") var av så dålig kvalitet att han ville rädda sina få läsare från det. Dr. H.R.P. beskriver sin egna text i text 6 med dessa hårda ord:

"Text 6 är inte värd att läsas och kan endast göras rätta med hjälp av en liknelse. Text 6 borde ges som föda till ett pack synnerligen vildsinta och aggressiva hyenor och efter att denna text förtärts och behandlats i hyenorna borde ovan nämnda hyenor skjutas och deras kvarlevor brännas för att i framtiden bevara Jorden och Människan från sådana misstag som text 6."

- Dr. H.R.P.

En kort och en lång mening som verkligen beskriver författarens egna känslor för ett av sina misslyckade verk. Vad som var så dåligt i text 6 får vi aldrig veta utan vi kan endast spekulera vad som gick snett.

Istället för text 6 så ger Dr. H.R.P. oss text 7 som när jag läste verkligen gjorde mig excalterad för första gången på bra länge. Om text 6 vart hemsk och undermålig så är text 7 ett underbarn fött av Dr. H.R.P. under söndag natt, 03:38 enligt hans egna ord.

Här kommer då text 7 istället; läs och fröjda er.

H. Kostet

Förvaltare av Dr. H.R.P. "The Great Raven Archives"

Are we the last of this Corrupt and Lost Bloodline? Will over steps here, our footprints, be the last? We have roamed for thousand and thousands of years but still we have not lived as long as cockroaches but we have made our Mark on this Doomed Planet. Time is limited and time has limitations; we cannot stretch it for too long without breaking something. What breaks first; we or time? We don't know but we keep on trying and living on Hope. Hope sure is something we have plenty of; the last thing that leaves us is Hope. The Doomed have Hope. That gives me Hope, Hope I don't need right now. What I need can't be dreamt up and made true by wishing, no.

Don't need this right now, got to keep my Focus and keep looking for that one thing that I lack. That one great Moment when the Night speaks and the leopards come down from the mountains to eat. The earth shall shake and the wind shall blow the Wrong Way. Then, and only then, will I know my Moment has arrived. When it comes I will be ready even though Greatness will be thrust open me but I sure will be ready to seize. Seize it by the throat and shake loose every apple from the tree of the Moment.

Stop reading if you are of the faint hearted because following my steps will lead you down the same path, the same Path that took me from Ignorance to the New Dawn. It will be a revolution, not by force but by Clearness and Grace. No red dawn but it will be a dawn.

How we all got to be in this mess no single man can explain by themselves. We are to fragile and lonely to see it alone. We can't see the solution for all the trees but we can see that Path. I follow it and I will drink from the Fountain of Madness. Yes siree, believe it or not but I shall and so shall you. Not in any religious sense, God is here for that, but in a different way. Weird is Normal.

Keep on driving and they'll never catch You.

Dr. H.R.P.

The weather outside is sunny, I got coffee, a beer, cigarettes and everything you could ask for but still this paper isn't filled with words of mine. Why not? I don't know, it seems as something is missing, but what?

Yes, what can it be?

I'm back. I was outside at the mailbox and enjoyed my morning coffee and looked what was happening outside. Not much, just some woman taking out the trash and an airplane crossing the sky. The airplane got me thinking of old memories, or fake memories that is. I remembered the time I was riding with Colonel Diaz and the Drug Gang and our beat-up DC-3. We were coming to the end of our journey from Miami and landing on this mud and rock airfield in southern Colombia to get a new shipment.

Woops, now I'm talking bullshit again, let's leave that to the fictional writers, ey? Or at least the writers, how's that for a byline? Write it, tag it and send it.

They say a healthy breakfast is a good start to everyday and I agree even though I don't always follow that maxim. I wonder what the President eats for breakfast? By the way, are snails a breakfast dish and does the French eat that? Strange thoughts, move on.

Yes, as I stood outside with my coffee and Lucky Strike in the autumn sun I felt strangely wrong with my shorts, clogs and shirt; something just wasn't right. I hate knowing there is a problem but having no idea what the problem is or what the solution is. Or hate is a strong word; strongly dislike sounds better, ey? When you have that feeling there is only one solution and that is to get out of Dodge and fast. Yes siree, leave the town and head out for the outskirts, set up a command post and wait for the bastards to close in on you before you pull the trigger. That will make them jump but it won't hurt them, at least not that bad, no. The hurt is mental as the surprise leaves them severely jangled and disorganized. Maybe even some poor sucker it left disillusioned but that is harder to measure, at least in absolute numbers and words. Yes, if you follow my instructions you can sure have a lot of fun and make people feel unnerved. You can see it in their eyes, can't you?

Oh yes, we can. We have spent too much time outside society to not have grown smart and tough. Not in the counterculture though, they are part of the society in their own twisted way; they need it to function and vice versa. No, people like you and me have spent our lives in that very special and narrow limbo between the two. The real Outlaw Land where dreams come true and the bartender always smiles at you. Yes, where the drinks are complimentary but the ride costs more. Remember those words and you might find it when you stumble into that special alley on some dark night.

The Werewolf Society will be waiting there for you. Another soul to steal and grab and drag back to that Limbo. Don't be scared, we are normal in a disillusioned and paranormal way, yes. We offer no physical danger, we are a nice bunch, but protect your brain ‘cause we have been known to upset your state of being. Upsetting what you thought was Right and True and instead showing you a state of higher seeing. Does it sound weird? Maybe it does, but then again so do the Scottish and you don't hate them, do you?

What the hell is happening to this country, this world? It is way too early to write this subversive text and way too late to can the whole mess. No cleaning lady to do my dirty work; I got to use the shovel myself, no broom required. There's a mess on every citizens table but my table is bigger. Wise words that my uncle left with me. Well, maybe not my uncle but let us be romantic and say I speak the truth today.

How long Lord must we suffer at the hands of these brutal pigs? How long, oh Lord, how long? A long time indeed it seems like. Let us just hope that the New Dumb crumble and fall before we do. With the expertise I have in this area it will be a tight race; the winner is not known beforehand. We have to put all our eggs in one basket and fight.

I'll leave you with those words for now.

"Remember that they flogged You too"

Dr. H.R.P.

Good Evening or is it Good Night? You decide. Anyway, I know these kinds of nights. The moon is hanging so low in the sky, oh yes. I can see the calm ocean from my beach house somewhere on the northern coast of Cuba. The moon seems to be setting and I can almost see the Cubans making a break for Florida and the U.S., paddling away in makeshift rafts, using the stars and streams for navigation. I myself am just happy on Cuba, at least for now, with half a bottle of prime rum and a lit cigar; watching the ocean and trying to come up with another piece of writing before I can go out and prowl the streets.

Not that it's true, now we are getting ahead the story with at least ten years. But hell, we all make mistakes; indeed we do. Get a grip pal, we can't lie to the audience, no, not yet.

So I sit there in the darkness, lights off, and sip the rum as night time oceans breaths and gets ready for another morning in three or so hours. Ready for another rumble with huge container vessels, tourists and industries; that's the Cuban Way of Life. On the nights it's easy to see why so many people have fallen in love with this country and its special atmosphere. On the day it ain't much for me but I do what I can and that is mostly sleep away the warm and hectic hours of everyday life on this Island Dictatorship.

But my sleep is erratic, no rest for the wicked, ey? But then again I'm known for a strange sleep pattern to say the least. Several days without sleep is not that uncommon and I take the strain of sleepless days with ease, I have ever since early childhood. But then again I'm called a Freak but aren't we all in one way or another? Freaks in the Freak Kingdom. Weird is Good and Normal is Bad, right? You all know that, you've heard it a million times, and you see it out on the streets everyday. Being Different and Shocking is the New Square. To be cool you have to be like all the others; different. How's that for a king-size headache? When you're different you're like the rest; you're normal. Not often you think of Different as being Normal but it's this world's Sad State of Affairs.

Enough of that, let us get back to that sandy beach in Cuba with my only true friends. Well, that's sort of a lie too. Don't take my words at face value; judge them and think for yourself. That's the lesson for tonight, boys and girls. Holy Jesus, when did I become the teacher? Maybe a thousand flaws make you smarter and more ready to Lead and Teach? If not you'll probably write me a nasty letter but then again, I've got at hundred of those already so save your breath.

The sand and crushed sea shells make a peculiar sound as I stroll down the beach and try to get a bearing on Heleanore's hut. Too darn dark to see anything and I loose my footing and fall flat on my belly. With the speed of a chipmunk on acid I grab the bottle before it is swept away with the waves and I quickly press it against my lips and taste the liquid. Not too much of a salt taste, thank God. Sometimes the Great Raven sure looks out for his disciples and tonight it was my turn. Another swig, a kiss on the label and I get the courage to get up. No need to dust of myself, they are already used to me in various states of disarray around here; as long as you got money and aviator glasses you are bona fide on the Island.

I think I see the lights from her hut and wish for another cigar but I curse the waves that stole it and made the cigar follow the path of the emigrants of Cuba to another place, maybe even a better place. Well, God Speed, dear cigar, God Speed. My Lucky Strikes somehow managed to stay dry and after the sand is shaken off I take on and light one up, or so I think. The damn Zippo is of course wet and impossible to light. Though luck, the Great Raven can't be everywhere at once. With a unlit cigarette, a bottle of rum and sandy clothes I stand barefoot at her porch and try to light the same cigarette using one of those electric bug killers. It doesn't work, no, instead I get a shock and curse Lono. Wrong side of the continent but the curse soothes me good enough. I hear rumblings from inside and soon Heleanore is outside and gives me that look; the Look of Pity and Wondering. I smile and all is forgotten since she remembers the fish I cooked her earlier today. But I still give her a peace offering with the rum left and she takes a swig and coughs a little. Enough is enough when it comes to her and I sit down on her couch with the cigarette that she lit for me.

Jesus, what the hell is happening? Has my life style finally made my brain rot so I can't tell fact from fiction anymore? If so I ask you to book and mail me flight tickets to Cuba, or at least northern Algeria, so I can get away from this Dark and Sinister man following me. Keep ‘em at an Arms Length and you'll be fine, that's what the Good Doctors orders at a night like this. My medicine is also working fine if consumed in large enough quantities. Never had any problem with that; no. Let us all celebrate that the Great Raven is finally returning home to keep an eye on us from his Silver Throne.

End it before you go too far. Don't wake the baby. Baddest of the Bad, ey?

Dr. H.R.P.

Oh well I'm uh
Sitting here la la
Waiting for my Ya Ya a hm ahm
Oh sitting here la la
Waiting for my Ya Ya uh
It may sound funny
But I don't think she's comin' home

- Lee Dorsey

Who are these people that you meet on the street everyday? These nameless faces that appear to you en masse; faces you see for the first time and at the same time for the last time. Faces showing all kind of emotions ranging from anger to fear, joy to sadness, indifference and passion; yes all are there at the same moment in space and time if just only then. To study the faces around you reminds you of yourself and what your face says about you. It's such a philosophical moment that it takes time for it to sink in and register in your brain.

What do I gain by writing this? Well, nothing, at least not at the moment. I think it was the band The Doors that sung the verses "people are strange when you're a stranger" and a stranger to this world I sure am. Just here for a while before the world calls me to another place; amongst the living or amongst the dead, we never know where we go next. Just a few words to the ones that survive me and this time I'm finding some Good Natured words from the poet Bob Dylan; "See that my Grave is kept Clean". What more can one ask for? Not much, that is for sure. So, I'm here today but tomorrow I might be gone somewhere else, far from here. You don't know and neither do I which makes it sort of a perverse insider joke between me and God. A joke I cannot share with my friends or family but that is okay, after all you got your own jokes too and I've never asked for information on that.

Jesus, who are these peoples that write these kind of texts in the early evening? Tell me, because I don't know even though I might be one. Might? Stop lying, it must be someone else writing now since I can feel my feet turning to sand and disappearing with the wind that blows through the open window in my apartment. There he goes again, they would say. There he goes, H.R.P. is finally moving on to another place in space and time, let us pray he finds what he is looking for. That's what they would say but of course they wouldn't. How's that for a paradox sentence, siree?

Tonight's writings are getting more quizzical than intended and for that I'm sorry. What? Me; sorry? Hell no, I don't give a shit. Take it or leave it, I won't be here to pick up the pieces anyway. I don't write for the Silent Majority, no, I write for True Believers in writing for writing's sake. "Ars gratia artis", ey? But that's a cock and bull story since, after all, my writings are far from art. Yeah, I never called it art so why start now? Exactly, no reason to do it so just stay on the right side of the line, will you Doc? I'll try but I'd like to point out that you enter at your own risk, ye Brain Rotten.

Fuck. Fuck it all. I tend to screw it up some way or another. I was starting out in a familiar fashion and trying to make sense of something ordinary but instead I strayed and fell for the Lure of Bad Craziness. Yes, we got a lot of that today and I must admit I'm not completely equipped to deal with that, not today at least. There are some cheap fixes but in the end they have the same general flaw; the cost a lot of money to maintained on a regular basis. But good golly that medicine works; on me, on you - on everybody. A remedy for the New Millennia, yes siree, never forget that. God damn it; it ain't now Snake Oil. How's that for an ending; sort of strange, ey?

Better keep on going on then; we don't want to let down people. Damn the Devil to Hell. I did it again; I lied. When will all these lies and fabrications stop? You must be a Loser to Win! No sense in trying if you can't loose, not graciously, but just plain and simply loose which sure is a good lesson to be learnt for the New Dumb. They walk the earth and eat and breed like locust. It drives any sane man insane with Pure Fear when discovering that his friends, his family, his tax collector; yes, everyone close to him is one of Them.  They can't cope with that, it's worse than having your sister turned into a zombie by the school jokes, yes. It is a dangerous world we live in and there are too few guns to protect the Good and Decent Folk. It sure is sad to see that me, a redneck, is one of the only few that can be counted to the fold of the Right and Brave. Yes, that is true; I am one of the very few not scared by the New Dumb and their Legions, no.

I join the league of men like Otto Skorzeny, Oliver North and Thomas Pynchon in my Quest for Truth, Justice and Righteousness. We are men of no inner convections and we do what we have to do to get things done and to further the Cause of our League. Of course there are more names I could bring into this league but let us four represent it, at least for now. We are Crusaders with Religion and we fight the religion named Voluntary Dumbness, yes siree. How is that for the name of the Cause? No Lost Cause here, no, we have the Law on our side this time but how to enforce it? We are too few, that is a known fact that the Enemy uses with great skill. Our Law and our Teachings are therefore diluted by the New Dumb which lessens our impact on society so we much take on the practices of the bushwhacker and hit from the shadows. Cloak and Dagger the Government calls it.

Holy Jesus. What kind of a Hell-Size Monster has been released tonight? It sure is a mess of epic proportions I've created for myself tonight, if I could just stayed at home and studied to become a priest or a doctor, you know; respectably trades for a man. But no, I chose a path with Too Much Spare Time and look were it got it me. Jesus. All this time and enough money to keep buying me medicine in adequate quantities creates a situation where one must buy it. When bought one must take it as the Good Doctor orders but that is an entirely different thing all together. Well, how's THIS for an ending?

"In order for a pickle to officially be considered a pickle, it must bounce."

Dr. H.R.P.

Some nights. Yeah, some nights you sit by the computer and words leave your fingers as you hammer down on the keys very much like bullets out of a machine gun. Other nights are much slower and you find yourself in a god forsaken place very much like an open highway without anything to be seen or seen by for a hundred miles. Those nights are the nights that hurt you badly and leave you so jolted that you wish for a bullet through your temple. Yes, but tonight is not one of those night, no.

This night has been blessed by the Great Raven, yes sir. I can see him flying on the wall behind me. The Raven is flying slowly, almost like it was flying underwater and there is a strange blue light behind it that shines down on me from behind, reminding me that I'm not alone. I can hear what the Raven is saying, can you?

Ride the snake, ride the snake

To the lake, the ancient lake, baby

The snake, he's long, seven miles

Ride the snake, he's old, and his skin is cold

His words ooze from the water his flying in and slowly drip into my consciousness where they form ideas, thoughts and memories of times long gone. The Ancient Lake; where lies that? Where can I swim with the snake, Raven? He smiles with his beak and points east with his wing. I must go there.

But not tonight, get a grip on yourself.

Even though I can shake the shadow and ooze of the Great Raven I can concentrate myself on my thoughts; my OWN thoughts that is. Leave the dreams and visions to others tonight; there is much work to be done.

There is madness in any direction today; nowhere can you escape it. You open a paper and read and the odds are that you will find something dark and twisted in an article and you will be told too much about the dark side of humanity, ye gods. Does it scare you? Some nights it even gets to me, even though I have walked with the beasts and stomped out goodness at my bad chimes. Now, I stray from the middle to both sides at least but there are darker chord in me still, you know that. But still, after all those memories and experiences, the truth of the real Evil out there can put me back in that Dark and Sinister mood.

What it does to You I can only imagine; maybe it explains the growing numbers of suicides in our world. Maybe You can't cope with the Dark and Vivid Imagery of Ancient Evil present in modern form. Well, too bad for you, since we will never get rid of those Daemons, they are older than humanity itself.

The Great Raven scoffs behind me, he knows better, he knows I'm just a mere mortal who has been granted insight. Never probe it too deep but keep it at an arm's length. So I can't be more precise than I am now since I've never been inside, at least not for long. But the Raven scoffs me for He knows what it is I'm trying to write. What those black eyes have seen no man can tell or understand for that matter.

Jesus, what is this gibberish I'm writing tonight? How long has it been? Something must be terribly wrong somewhere when a man can get away with doing this to a respectable world with people that firmly believe in the Innocence of the Young and the Purity of the Human Race. Why are those good earthly citizens punished by having a mad man and his ravings published on the Great Spider's Web? No one knows and the Good Citizen knows the least.

"In this part, and in every law relating to or affecting animals, the words animal or dumb animal shall be held to include every living creature"

Dr. H.R.P.

Miss my Carmelita, I sure do.

Trodde aldrig jag skulle göra det.

I've heard this tail since I was a child
How two great men fell and lost their lives
Beneath the riverbanks where lovers go to hide
Where Frankie & Keith Calloway died
The young men swore friendship for all times
But that was ´fore the war, for grand ma´ came to town
She was the sweetest thing, lead many men astray
Both Frankie & Keith Calloway
Riverbanks, where lovers go to hide
Riverbanks, you've taken two lives
Beneath the riverbanks where lovers go to hide
There's a little sank where the grass grows high
If you're ever going there, to hide out in the green
Better make sure you can't be seen
Cuz when the sun sank one night in 58
Grandma went to the riverbanks to meet with Calloway
When Frankie found out he shot his brother to the ground
Then he shot him self one time
Riverbanks, where lovers go to hide
Riverbanks, you've taken two lives
Riverbanks your reputation died
Riverbanks, can you hear the lonely wind sigh

"No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun -- for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax -- This won't hurt."

Yesterday she went to see
The Polynesian band
But she came home with her hair all wet
And her clothes all filled with sand
I didn't have to come to Maui
To be treated like a jerk
How do you think I feel
When I see the bellboys smirk?
And I can hear the ukuleles playing
Down by the sea
She's gone with the hula hula boys
She don't care about me

Obama/Biden 217

157 Solid      60 Leaning

McCain/Palin 216

 157 Solid     59 Leaning

Toss Up 105

 105 Toss Up



That means that McCain and Obama are tied in the Electoral College! Obama has had the edge for some time but now McCain is dethroning The One! The news this week are just getting better and better, maybe I'll even write to Diaz and ask her to celebrate with me, haha.

No, that would be crazy; I'd never do that...