DATING?

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I saw something very disturbing today on my computer. My computer and I have formed a tight bond most likely due to the lack of interesting or worthwhile people to occupy space and time with. But, I saw this disturbing set of words on my computer screen today. Normally I am able to say "OK computer, you can slack a little, but please, please, try to keep the spam to a minimum." Uh, thank you. Not today. I was hyper-focused on some set of demented microbe/cyber formations of words. I was trying to write a bit about something I know a lot about, when all of a sudden, a smaller block screen rose up in front of my project that wanted to know my interests. First off, I know my computer does not give a fuck about what I am interested in since I have to tell it where to go all the time. But, much worse were one of the options next to the check-box list of "supposed" limited interests: DATING? WHO THE FUCK FINDS DATING INTERESTING? What does one do on a date? Or is it before the date that is most um, interesting? Get dressed? Why get dressed for someone else? Let alone get in the shower. Really, Is there not more interesting things to do? And what is expected of one on a date? What is it? A date? Do people actually still do that? FUCK MAN! Sounds like a complete unnecessary mission. What is it? He pays for dinner and then she rewards him with a bit of pretense of procreation? Or is it go with other dates and have a date filled evening? What do they do? Go to the movies? The Bar? The hot dance club? Do they talk? What do they say? They must be incredibly uncomfortable or, more disgustingly, horny pigs. I think that horny pigs should just skip the date and fuck. I mean, if that is all two people want from each other, why waste time with all the boring lallygagging? People are so strange to me. Hot dates on a hot Friday night. Why is Friday such a big deal anyway? All the miserable nine to fivers get a measly two days away from slavery? What is it that makes the weekend "party-time?" Why not party everyday? Why wait? People make no sense to me I'm afraid. And flirting, now that is a crock of malarkey. All these little games people play. They take up so much time. Why is it so strange to me? It always has been. Yeah, hot date tonight. I'd rather pick my nose and read. Stab at my keyboard and see a world of words, that I control (usually), assemble before me like my head split open and my brains got sucked into the computer monitor and the knowledge and the horrid spelling these days make for unpleasant contrast. Hot Date? Get real. Boooooring. Stabbing and reading make more sense to me. HA!-Henry O'Malley  

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Hexastix V

Whoah, finally. I am able now. I am able to tell you about book V of the Hexastix. I ran my face under some cold water and washed my hands twice. Anyway, after I "defeated" all the tasks I was to undergo before admission to book V-The Justice Sticks I was thrown into some kind of trance. My recollection of what I experienced during this trance is confined to an informative voice. The voice was monotonous, yet hypnotic and easy on the ears. The voice began its monologue thus: Greetings believer and congratulations for your successful mastery of the five trials set before you. It is now time for you to partake in the knowledge of Hexastix: justice. Book V is always read aloud to the master of trials. It is accessible only to The First Voice of the Hexastix. We are no foolish pacifists. We take our culture very seriously and have no stomach for prejudice, ridicule, or violence. It is, however, perfectly justifiable to commit violence as an act of self-defense. If we are attacked, we do not stand and gape. HARK! Before justice is administered to the blackguard HARK I SAY!!! The Song of Allegiance to the Stick-people must resound before the deed, eye for an eye, but not to the point of stupidity.
                                             The Song of Allegiance to the Stick-people


Pity, pity, those that abuse us, for we are masters of a sacred valve: If that valve be beaten or ridiculed because of its nature, the perpetrator shall see hell. If you come upon us with weapons or blood-thirsty fists-these actions are returned in kind, but far more brutal as to express the exaggerated ignorance that crushes your skull and needles into your delusional brain.
CHANT:
"I've got my rights."
"I don't have to take that from you."
"Or do you not know that the sticks will judge the world?"
"I say this to your shame. Is it so, that there is not among you one wise man"
"You yourselves wrong and defraud"
"Now, satisfied with your iron fists and large weapons, you may feast upon the torment you have unjustifiably thrust unto the peaceful bodies and souls of my brethren and sister-en" 


Be careful what you say regarding the Stick-people.
Take care not to use physical violence, stupidly., against our minority.

Is this what you want?

Or perhaps this?

This is a possibility as well:

OR THIS?!

Sweet dreams! Ain't feelin' so superior? Tragic!
OR THIS!

Terrible cramping accompanied by a persistent sensation not unlike being stabbed in the balls.

Just quiet. Tact. Zip. It would make much more sense for you to genuflect before the invisible Father behind the stars than to use iron fists or any such advanced weaponry on my brethren and sister-en

DO YOU REALLY WANT THIS?.

  Hence the end of the fifth book of sticks-The Hexastix. Mind you, it is always unfortunate to have to take such stringent measures in order to preserve our dignity. The choice is yours. Think.

This information has been taken verbatim from the First Voice of the Hexastix. Watch yourself. Ignorance can kill you.

_Henry O'Malley

I Henry, unmedicated.

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March 28, 1986

Dear Piece of Paper,

I can see the movement of my mother’s mouth. I can hear her words. I understand them perfectly. But she is not here or there. She wrings her hands, says “Stop grimacing!” I know nothing of grimacing. The conductor waves his wand and the penetration of wavy grasses and orphan-like trees embrace the color red. The penetration is a tattoo. My mother has no tattoos, but she knows Jesus and is quite fond of Him. The sand causes the house to slide. No one knows, but the stick-people, and the barn wears the wind like a cross, He said “You can go now,” and so I retired to my room, alone, waiting for the right temperature.

FRAUD!!!!

Nice try Crooked Serpent.
You are kidding me!
Santa is Dead.

13 TRAPPED MINERS (a poem by Henry O'Malley)

When most people are wicked-
ain't that the truth-
coal must come to those
ne'er do wells by the thousands.
Millions, mining, accident, KILLED.
All for YOUR bad behavior.
Thousands of fatalities-
because all you people
are almost as bad as Caligula.
Merry Christmas.
Have fun at the mall
being ripped off
and forget about Christ...
only presents you think...
yeah, well, hell coal!
And the poor bastards
that had to dig it up for
your wretched stocking.
Merry Christmas.
Not even coal
would you get
if I were President.
Humanity=nothing for Christmas, not even coal.
MERRY MAKE BELIEVE DEVILRY!

I am Scatology: I am Scatology: I Love trash and disorder, therefore I function,

I am Scatology: I am Scatology: I Love trash and disorder, therefore I function,

I am Scatology: ...On Major Depression...

I am Scatology: ...On Major Depression...

HECK-SA-STIX PART V

Yep. It has been a long, long, time since I have been able to coherently join my words and form a complete sentence. HECK!!!! It is a bitch!!! Thank you Clorazil. I do not remember much of what has taken place in my life over the past month and, say, one week. Who cares right?! I certainly do not. I take an apathy pill every morning and transform: human to Vulcan...you know like that Spock guy. Highly Illogical!!!!! And because I have been off the subject (Hexastix) for so long you ALL probably do not even remember what this shit is all about that I am going to abruptly continue as if I never went AWOL. A wall. I was staring at a wall for more than five days. And I know no one gives a shit and most of you have no idea what I am so gabbing on about, but I can assure you "HEXASTIX FOR DUMMIES" shall be published shortly after. I personally enjoy accommodating. To hell with annotations!!! They cause attention-deficit-disorder. I was working so hard I forgot to take my medication and IFRANKMASTER almost rolled around the bend of my brain faster than a speeding speed freak superman fuck tweak! But, alas, no. I am Henry. And I want you to know, invisible audience, EXACTLY what I WENT THROUGH to obtain the information I needed to gain information on Hexastix-book V. It was fucking hell and damnation! Jesus yippity Christ Christmas! Well, FUCK!!! I will just lay it on the table for you all so you can not appreciate it! I work for myself. What more can I expect? Exactly. Highly illogical to expect any more. Maybe, if you can spare an eyeball or two, just go back over the previous books to set the mood for my revelations. KEEP IN MIND: this is only what I WENT THROUGH to obtain the information and not the information itself. That is a whole different story. These stories must be told separately (and without neologisms) because they are too significant to lump together. Highly illogical-that lumping together.
                                                        HEXASTIX: BOOK V- THE TOIL.

Book V-"The Justice Sticks"
Very complicated this one.
Here is a short summary of what is to come: There comes a time, once, maybe even twice upon a time, that, unfortunately, we, the stick-people and believers, must defend ourselves physically. Keep in mind, we do not believe in steroids....that is cheating. Unchivalrous. Oops, a neologism, excuse me. ATTENTION!!!! And mind you we are not pushovers and dare not  turn the other cheek so that the perpetrator can pound it to a pulp. Highly illogical. That is just pure stupidity and, might I add, masochism. Suffer thee children!!! NO!!! ATTENTION!! We do not play that foolish game of Mr. Martyr Pants. Peh. Anyhow, there exist such ignoramuses that allow prejudice and intolerance of diversity to rule their testosterone or progesterone levels, thus causing a phenomena commonly known as an "ANGRY MOB" a.k.a. "HIGHLY ILLOGICAL SHIT FOR BRAINS POSSE." I will not apologize for self-defense when it is absolutely necessary. We are just as good at playing Romans and Spartans on steroids as any poor fool. Anyhow. Five steps. I had to complete these grueling tasks in order to attain the (privilege) information necessary for me to explicate "The Justice Sticks." And on I go. Pacifist idiots ideologically crippled AWAY! None of you would understand. Go find something better to do than complain about "necessary" self-defense-like go get your asses ripped to shreds by blockheads. AH-HA!
Task one: 
"Have Gun Will Travel reads the card of a (wo)man.
A knight without armor in a savage land.

His/her fast gun for hire head's the calling wind.
A soldier of fortune is the man called Paladin and/or the Noble Women of Tortosa in Aragon.

Paladin, Noble Women, Paladin, Noble Women,
Where do you roam?
Paladin,Noble Women, Paladin, Noble Women, 
Far, far from home."

Keep this little ditty in mind when shoppin' for knowledge my brethren and sistern.

TASK ONE: I must defeat the ghost of Kontesteronia (Greek Goddess of chess and, of course, a believer) at her own area of expertise. No joke. I had to outwit her. Twenty hours of exhausting intellect. But, to my good luck Hades decided to show up and "BOO" her, heckle her into a fit of rage so great as to infiltrate her mastery, her guard down for a split second and I took advantage of it with a double rook sacrifice. "I Won." I said. "It is amazing what powers medication gives to you commoners." said Kontesteronia. And off she went throwing boulders at Hades as he cackled down a hole in the ground. They were gone. I had completed the first task. Success!
TASK TWO: Convince American Republican Congressman Tancredo that he is Gloria Steinem. By Jiminy! What hardship!!! It was great though! All I had to do was take out a rifle and say "Let us take back America and drink ten shots of jack!" and he was all ears! I never actually drank Jack. I drank tainted water. He got the alcohol though, boy he did! Passed out American Republican Congressman Tancredo went from this:  
                                                                  Oh No Tancredo!!!!

 

to this:

in no time. When he came to I said "Hey Pal-take-back-America you sure is lookin' fine teeday!" I simply handed him a mirror. When he saw Gloria reflect back at him he vomited, pissed his pants, and shouted "I, Gloria Steinem, guh, guh, No! What! Hell! Get out!! Oh Lord, My Father!!!!" He then passed out. It was an awful experience for him I will admit, but I must add that he is very insecure without his face and that just doesn't reek of bravery to me. Task Accomplished!

TASK THREE: My hands certainly suffered from this one. I had to "hand-write" 25,000 letters to the United States Federal Government to inform them that there are in fact many of us "down here" that KNOW "our" country is not a true democracy. We know that it is in fact a Monarchy under the guise of a Democracy and that The Senate should be properly renamed "Maniacs," The President "Father Herod," and that those "ruling" this country like to pretend they are Romans. Yes, the little Roman games they play like homosexual tigers batting at mice....usurpers, pretenses, cough, cough. We live in a poorly disguised caste system and slavery has not, in fact, been abolished, but is still quite alive and all around us. WE KNOW. WE WATCH YOU TOO. BIG SISTER SEES ALL, HEARS ALL AND IS MUCH MORE CLEVER THAN YOUR BIG BROTHER. You like us to abide by the delusion  "land of the free, home of the brave." Some big comic book, video game charade in which the hero wields a great big weapon and kills the most bad guys. I have to hand it to mankind: the side that has the most murdered human beings wins-brilliant!!! This really solves every problem I could ever think of. Never-mind using our brains.....listen to the almighty male hormone...KILL...KILL...YOU WRONG ME RIGHT KILL...KILL. All so very highly logical concepts. We also know that that separation of church and state thing was a pretty silly game of make believe too...you sneaky critters you! The U.S.A. is a mental illness, what? I thought I just heard a bird. Lovely.

Yours free of charge,

                                                                            Caligula.

TASK FOUR: Re-arrange Stonehenge. Just great. What am I? Fucking Atlas? Okay. Keep it cool. After all, I've accomplished some heavy duty tasks...by all means...I pulled them off with, one might say, finesse. So, Stonehenge, no big deal, just a lot of feng shui shit and manipulation of stone.....muscle. English County, Wilshire....I hitched rides with several unbearable clap-trappers. Goodbye. This is my stop. Ah, Stonehenge. Very mysterious. Just never, ever, tell me I have to go to London. New York ten times worse. Metro-bots everywhere. So cool to live in the cit-tay! Yes. Yes. Well, anyhow, not only do I have to re-arrange stonehenge, but I have to make a pillar or whatever those stone extraterrestrial "mysteries" are called out of Tony Blair's face!!!! WTF!!! And that is not all-I have to get the symbol of Justice to fit in between the pillars, stones, whatnot as well!!! Tough I tell you. Tough.

Just take a look here and tell me I am one hell of a crafty man! Once I got started though, I could not stop! I even paid homage to the Queen with a special propaganda message included for the good not just of England alone, but the whole World!!! Success!!!

TASK FIVE: Still alive. Ha ha ha ha. Task five was really, thankfully, a breeze. I love to ask people questions. It is kind of funny how people do not really feel comfortable answering questions. The truth of the matter is, I am afraid, that they will not know the answer. They feel embarrassed..perhaps. Anyhow, my final task was quite simple: I had to ask twenty-three common folk if they believe in God and why. I even went out of my way to shake their hands without condescension ( of course, all I could think of was scrubbing my hands afterward in boiling water with a heavy anti-bacterial product). Did you ever see God? Is God sexless? When you think of God do you imagine a man or a woman? Maybe even some kind of amorphous entity? Why do you think it is that you think such of God? After probing about a bit I had to give them the drill. I had to ask them "Have you ever seen the Stick-people?" and "Have you ever seen God?" alternately exactly ten times before I thanked them for their time. Some were a bit shaken I have to admit, but that usually happens when one does not think much about much and is suddenly asked to use the old upper-story. Some even dared look at me like I was a raving lunatic. But, really if you think about the question, it really is quite reasonable and, if you are lucky you will learn from that question. I personally think it should be the prerequisite before entering secondary or high school. I will be back with the knowledge of The Justice Sticks. I have to go smoke a pack of cigarettes now. Statistically schizophrenics are known to smoke compulsively. I am but a tiny speck of that statistic. Good day.

Lex Talionis,

Henry O'Malley

.

Lex Talionis: CLICK FOR MORE INFO RIGHT NOW.

Lex Talionis: CLICK FOR MORE INFO RIGHT NOW.

CLICK FOR MORE INFO RIGHT NOW.

               "Everything I need  to  know was taught to me by my 

                                             TOILET."

Lex Talionis,

Henry O’Malley

Hexastix: Book IV-A Review Before the Final Book

Book IV of the Hexastix

Book IV: The Book Of Plastic Sticks

If any of you folks out there have been paying attention to the messages in “O’Say What Is Gross,” you may find a semblance of similarity in the message of book IV of the Hexastix.  The Book of Plastic Sticks basically serves as a warning regarding false prophets or anyone claiming to be an “expert.” It is an anomaly that people these days rely heavily on the supposed knowledge of such “experts’ and that most of the time the “expert” does not have to have any credentials and if he or she does, this does not mean that they know any better about anything than anyone else. In modern society you may be watching a commercial about such and such product and a voice in the commercial says something like “….highly recommended by experts.” Or a book review listing in the New York Times claims that a book deserve praise when, in fact, it is a piece of shit. Or the movie critics (a.k.a. experts) tell you a movie is “The best film of the year” when, in fact, it may possibly be the worst film of the year. Yes, false prophets are everywhere these days. The scary thing is that people actually consume whatever
these so called “experts” tell them to and take their (the experts) word as the word of God, and, as some of us of higher intelligence know, God is a fictitious and invisible myth just like the experts. Anyhow, The Book of Plastic Sticks was written in 1855, the year Alexander Parkes officially invented plastic. It is hidden south of the equator and its hiding place is, of course, only known to the stick-people and their believers. When The Book of Plastic Sticks is held up to the light of a full moon the words are etched into the plastic and read thus:
There exist such entities in the world that claim and give forth false knowledge. Beware of them. If someone or something implies that you are a subordinate and that someone or something claims to be more knowledgeable than you on a certain subject use your gift of skepticism. These false prophets may be trying to trick you into giving them or some other affiliated party your money and they may also ruthlessly cause you to waste your time. Remember that opinions or perceptions coming from one who claims to be an “expert” is simply an opinion or perception and does not have to become your own: you have your own opinions and perceptions and should never mold them according to  someone else’s standards. Heed this warning well!!! There are false messages all around you!! For example, one, usually a female, may be told that she should not look like a female, but that she should go on something called “a diet” and look like a little boy. This is false!!! Women are supposed to eat well and look like women: voluptuous and curvy. Eating healthy and within certain boundaries (not over-eating or eating too much “junk) has been replaced by excessive fad diets that are most unhealthy. Most diet “experts” are lunatics and/or misogynists.
The source of a prophecy must also be questioned. Just because it has a wide variety of followers that buy into its nonsense does not make it a good source of information. For Americans, The New York Times is a good example. A highly esteemed piece of crap is what it really is. Did you ever read their book review? Utter nonsense!!! Don’t let them tell you! The Museum of Modern art has a shit ton of crap that passes for what we call “art.” Jackson Pollock? Abstract expressionist?! True fucking tripe!!!

                           Grab some paint and throw it at a wall….yeah! That’s art man!!! How utterly awful! The Museum of Modern Art is a false prophet: Don’t believe a thing you see. Only on occasion does it offer quality, but rarely. Be careful what you believe and always, always, question! Question! Question! We were born with brains, were we not? Our society hates when we use our brains and so it invents things to control us. Some of this is “old-story” to some of you, but there are those poor souls out there that need to be told they are being manipulated and lied to!!!! Take that asshole John Edwards supposed “psychic-medium.” He makes a killing lying to gullible people! He should be assassinated (I did not say this) or executed! He is no expert and is no prophet…this is what he is: A BIG LYING SCUMBAG THAT LAUGHS AT ALL THE REJECTS THAT BELIEVE HIS LIES AND SPEND TONS OF MONEY TO HEAR WHAT HE HAS TO SAY OR RATHER HEAR WHAT THEIR DEAD RELATIVE HAS TO SAY THROUGH HIM WHICH IS CLEARLY (TO SOME OF INTELLIGENCE) IMPOSSIBLE!!!!!!!!!!
Plastic here refers to that which has been chemically modified by man to suit some devious purpose. And don’t forget about Los Angeles…many plastic people live there….beware of them…a whole plastic community!!! Cosmetic plastic surgeons….mostly misogynistic highly paid bastards or lying bastardettes that prey on people’s (mostly women) low self-esteem. Beware false prophets, beware of the lies, look at the man behind the curtain…..he’s terrified….he is a FRAUD!
End of Book IV of the Hexastix. Valuable information. Be smart and make the choice today to believe in the stick-people and their believers. They are the only entities that carry the truth as it should be. Listen to them.
Good Day,
Henry O’Malley

You Seen God lately? I seen the Stick-People. What Is The Difference?

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Hexastix: Book III

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Third book of Hexastix: The Book of Bioluminescent Sticks

-Book # III- The Bioluminescent STICKS

The third book of the Hexastix can only be read in the sky at night on a certain date and is, in fact, like a constellation. The International Astronomical Union does not acknowledge this constellation-like pattern because, sadly, no members of this union are stick-people or believers. What is particularly interesting about this pattern is that is can be seen from all hemispheres as opposed to being limited to only one hemisphere like the 88 “official” constellations; because it has no boundaries it is not considered a constellation.  The date in which it can be seen is October the 31rst. The pattern can be seen in the form of four paragraphs that fill the entire night sky. The message is as follows:
If you can see this document you are either a stick-person or a believer in stick-people. There is no such thing as life after death. Beware this myth! To protect yourself from myth-makers and to become immune to their tall tales you must submerge your head in your own urine for thirty seconds. Warning: if you do not do this you will most likely succumb to the great lies of the world and perish as a delusionist. This is, by far, the most disgusting way to perish.
To your right you will see four bioluminescent sticks. Use these sticks to distinguish what is true and what is false. Wave them before people, documents, etcetera: they will cease to glow before all that is false. These sticks will expire on October the 30^th; you will receive your new set of bioluminescent sticks on October the 31rst. If you are questioned when waving the sticks simply state “I am conducting scientific research” and that should be sufficient explanation for the curious. If the curious demand further explanations tell the curious “I require complete silence while conducting my scientific research.”
If the bioluminescent sticks indicate falsehood do not point your finger or draw attention to the falsehood. Acknowledge the falsehood silently and act as if it does not exist. If you openly declare a falsehood you run the risk of public estrangement, confinement to an undesirable area, or execution. Take it upon yourself to heed the words of this book. The general public lacks the ability to think rationally and may react violently to your claim. Beware.
I must inform you straight away that the ideas of “original sin” and “holiness” are falsehoods. Heed these ideas not, for they are lies. Beware of individuals and documents that perceive these ideas to be true. Only delusionists believe lies and spread myths. You don’t want to be a delusionist do you? “Original sin” and “holiness” are two myths that exist for the sole purpose of controlling and disrupting your natural thought process and actions to suit the outfit of lunacy. Many are the delusionists. *Quality not quantity*
And so the third book of the Hexastix ends. It makes perfect sense. Unfortunately, nonsense gets the upper hand in life. I prefer perfect sense to nonsense. I am no delusionist.
Regards,
Henry O’Malley

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Hexastix: Book II

Hexastix: Book Two

-Book # 2: “Book of Drumsticks.”
The Book of Drumsticks was written on parchment: this suggests, but roughly, that its original message was expressed around, say, (6^th century BC, or beyond). The Book, or parchment, is covered in a sheath of red granite. When unsheathed and unrolled for viewing, its message is revealed in drum beats similar to this: Ta-tum, Ta-tum-tum, Ta-tum-tum-tum-tum, BANG, CRASH, Ta-tum-tum, tum-tum-tum, Ta-ta-ta-tum. The drum beat or rhythm is a code, much in the vein and intention of the First Book: It can be heard, but only Stick-People and believers, OBVIOUSLY, can decipher its message. The message is interpreted thus:
Here ye, here ye, we be sticks that drum. Our resonance may signify warning signals, communication (similar to what we know to be Morse code) of many varieties, manifold are our capabilities. We make powerful music. However, we have and will often be misused to signify disaster created by mankind, inhumane treatment of human-kind, battle scores, or triumph relevant to insidious contests that assert the power of such and such party, in marches indicative of good values and/or bad values, or utilized for entertainment such as what is heard before a trapeze artist dares to pull off his or her stunt before an audience in a circus. The Stick-People and believers know our true intentions: despair befalls them when we are misused. Good and evil as words are used to refer to that which is honorable and atrocious. Good and evil: the true source and logical implication of these words have been and are often exaggerated and grossly distorted by humankind. Logically, good is allowing the earth to flourish, freedom and diversity acknowledged and accepted, tolerance, peace, compromise, never harming a living creature or object, and not limiting oneself to a narrow scope which spreads and permits stagnation and evil itself. Evil is destruction of earth, slavery, prejudice, intolerance of differences, war, lack of compromise, harming a living creature, living within a narrow scope, closing the mind off from beauty, from love, from respect. The Stick-People and their believers know our true intentions sound out and communicate that which is good. We sound our messages, and if they are pure and heard by the correct entities, spread joy at intense decibels, but at decibels never so intense as to disable those that have eardrums. We shall now end our song with five key concepts:
1. If a stick does something wrong to you, go to that stick. Talk alone to the stick and tell the stick what it has done. If the stick listens to you, you have kept that stick as your friend.
2. But if the stick does not listen to you, take one or two other sticks with you to talk to that stick. Then two or three sticks will hear every word and can prove what was said.
3. If the stick does not listen to the other sticks, tell a tree. If the stick does not listen to the tree, treat that stick as a stick that does not believe in the Hexastix and as bad as a tax collector.
4. We drum out the truth. What you tie on earth will be tied in our drumming. What you set free on earth will be set free in our drumming.
5. If you believe in transubstantiation, you are a numb-skull and no better than a vampire.
Thus ends the “Book of Drumsticks,” book two of the Hexastix.

-Henry O’Malley

Hexastix: Book I

The First Book of the Hexastix

The Book of Sticks, Hexastix: a series of six books.

The first of the hexastix was etched on an Ishango bone; I estimate roughly 18,000 to 20,000 B.C. It is impossible to pronounce, with the human tongue, the name of the Stick-Person that initiated this book and its message. It is spelled something like this: UZg*hydb. A faintly etched U with two lines, or strikes through its middle, A half moon slightly lower than the U with a star shape betwixt, a lower-case n-ish shape with a circle located at the lower elongated tale of the N-ish (also slightly lower than the U), actually, after the U, the rest of the name is engraved slightly lower than the U, A star-ish figure followed by another N-ish figure but, more linear than the former, a round  V-ish figure accentuated by a long tail through its middle which gives it more semblance of a W, an eightish-character, but with the connection missing on the top right, so that it cannot be assumed an eight, and lastly, This is getting boring, but I have to explain the complexity, and lastly, a B-ish image with the linear side of the B drawn out below the bottom half-circle of the B-ish.

Now see?! This name simply cannot be spoken, but it can be complexly described in terms relating to the letters and symbols we utilize today. Keep in mind that I am limited to illustrating the name for you in American terms: Imagine the unlimited berth of this name, as it can be construed in the multitude of World languages and symbols. A-MEN TO THAT!!!

Now this UZg*hydb is the first known Stick-Person to have used expression to create a type of manual, perhaps also a fore-warning, for other Stick-People that existed at the time as well as for future Stick-people and their believers.Now, UZg*hydb was very wise to engrave lines on the Ishango bone, called tally marks, to disguise his or her message. This message can only be translated by the Stick-People themselves and their believers. The notations on the bone,which we now call the First Book of the Hexastix, are read as such: III, space,II, space, III, space, I, space, and last, four IIII with a strikethrough. These notations are devoid of meaning and/or esoteric to the untrained heretical eye,in other words, for those of you that cannot read between the lines, the First Book of the Hexastix cannot be understood or translated by those who deny the existence of Stick-People. Now:

-Book # 1: ”That Which We Know Beyond The Tally.”

The book starts with three lines (III) that resemble three Roman numerals, side by side, representing the number three. Heed me well, they do not lie, and carry timeless wisdom.  The lines translated read thus: There will be few that believe, but many hypocrites shall be bred for centuries and centuries. These hypocrites will believe in the existence of someone or something invisible, yet will deny other someone’s or something’s that are also invisible. They will be ignorant of their fallacy: blame them not, for they know not themselves.

The second set of lines (II), like the Roman numeral two, states: Transubstantiation shall become a common ritual. The hypocrites will believe, without question, in some kind of metamorphoses concerning the body and blood of a deceased, revered individual of the male sex. This belief is that, through some Divine process, bread and wine become this individual’s body and blood. And to make things worse, they consume it!!!! This transubstantiation is, of course, IMPOSSSIBLE.

Again, after a space, come three lines (III), much like the first set. This set serves mostly as a warning or foreboding, with great reason: There will be a great, if not eternal, stagnation among the hypocrites so long as human-beings walk this earth. Transubstantiation, salvation, or eternal life in some imagined paradise they call “Holy,” written documents known as the Pentateuch mistaken for non-fiction and scribed by mortal men with fixed ideas, are among some of their strongest beliefs. Stagnation: Their belief system will cease to evolve much and will branch out into related beliefs to suit the whim of MAN. They will use the pronoun “He” to refer to a great invisible force, as if it were a man giant and not a neutral-androgynous entity to exert power and ignite fear in women: this reference to a great invisible male being will serve to justify the superiority of man and his values, usually twisted, under the guise of what is deemed “good” or “His will.” It is all philosophy and therefore cannot be trusted. Stagnation: they will deny the existence of Stick-People because they cannot see them, hypocrites, yes, because, yet, they carry on with their beliefs in invisible “spirits” they call them, or “The Holy Ghost,” “The Great Father,” etc- a masculine/paternal power not of the flesh or blood. Also, a reincarnation of the aforementioned deceased individual/ messenger, revered and of the male sex will supposedly be sent by this other great invisible man to spread and teach HIS values. Stagnation: these beliefs will never cease. Stagnation: the denial that Stick-People exist, but, as hypocrites, stand to believe in this invisible “Great Father” and that the deceased come back to life.

Now, space, a single line (I): This is not logical. Pay them no heed. They make no sense.

And the final notation: four lines with a strikethrough (IIII): The Hexastix and existence of Stick-People and their believers, shall, most likely, be tormented, claimed insane, tortured, locked away in some restrictive environment. Beware: to mention the Stick-People, believers, I forewarn you: this knowledge is only useful to those that follow perfect logic and have the capacity to contrast and compare belief systems. Use your own discretion. Speak of us if you must, but be prepared for tragedy if you choose this path. You may cease to exist if you expose your knowledge to the unwise. Hence the strikethrough of the four etched lines; the strikethrough signifies death, or some loss to the believer that reveals or speaks freely and indiscriminately of the Stick-People. Also, it serves to mean that the Stick-People themselves will lose some degree of self-esteem due to the ridicule and denial that will surround them. To the Hexastix: non-preservation and fear of being wiped out of existence by hypocrites. Thanks be to the almighty initiator that manifested the First Book, we keep it well hidden.

Lex Talionis,

Henry O’Malley

"The Book of Sticks"

I, Henry, recently split up a lecture with the title “O’ Say What is Gross” on my myspace bandsite; it is a seven part lecture highly regarded by the High Priestess of the Sacred Intelligence. I, Henry, also recently decided to disengage myself from myspace because I solemnly disagree with the developer’s idiotic religious beliefs. I am currently researching the StIckpeople and “The Hexastix.” “The Hexastix” is a series of messages expressed in the six books of “The Book of Sticks.” This book can only be translated by the Stickpeople and their believers. I believe in the Stickpeople simPLy because I had the privilege of carrying on a six hour discussion with one of their kind in the year 1990 and another that lasted about 4.5 hours in the year 2001. I have chosen to research and illustrate the ancient “The Book of Sticks” for reasons quite personal, buT also with the intent to clarify some misconceptions associated with these individuals, their beliefs, and their belieVers. The results of my studies will be interpreted for the  plebeian and made available as an auDIo lecture and/or an eSSay on this site. I cannot stress how difficult it is to translate “The Book of Sticks”; however, it is no burden and my studies relieve me of my ego and are undertaken with the deepest scrutiny. I have to swallow my medication now. Goodbye.
-Henry O’Malley

HAPPY-JACK-O-ME-HEADLESS-DOUCHEBAG.

 I was an exaggeration of myself for Hallow's Eve. Every Hallow's Eve 1989 to 1995. Cleared out all the good watering holes (the only five on Main St.) ten minutes tops. Art Studio. Evening. "Showing" of Jenson Donnelly's great artistic rip off of the Dada era. His "pieces" all had a main theme: "I am Not An Artist, I live on the prairie." Everyone gone. Five minutes. The mall. Bit longer. Bout' an hour. Exhausting. All those stores. Two-hundred-plus consumers.
Man in food-court: "FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK!"
Henry: "IT'S NOTHING MORE THAN HALLOW'S EVE ASSHOLE!!! TAKE SOME FUCKING EXAGGERATION!!!"

Punched in face. Four blows. Balding. Stocky. Ignoramus. Realized he could not ruin my Hallow's Eve. Pain in the ass. Eventually gone with the rest. Half-hour. Nobody. Nobody. Ruins my Hallow's Eve spirits. Not even Johnny Mathis. Not even Casey Sports-Tourette's bore me to death. Away he went from communal living room. Thirty-nine seconds. Vomited on crazy-man Al's snack. Al. Punched me in the face twice. Karate-kicked Casey in chest. White-coats. Here they come. Take Al out with syringe. My exaggeration wished him "HAPPY HALLOW'S EVE!!!" Twenty times tops. Big Dick's Titty Bar, testosterone nightmare, haters of man dancing through clenched teeth, EMPTY,  after my exaggeration passed through door and into the room of hard blockheads. Ten inch heel, medulla oblongata, then, gone in a flash, fifty-one minutes tops, blood on my face and to the "French" Cafe. "Great baguettes!!" "What is that?!!" Undigested food and horror, evacuation, twenty minutes tops (I had to use the bathroom-+ five minutes) hors d'fucking nerves! It's Hallow's Eve!!! Fun times! Starbucks cafe. Five shots of espresso. One latte. Large black. My exaggeration. No money. vacant. Fifteen minutes tops. Trepidating cashier. Too trepidized to dial the men in blue. "HAPPY HALLOW'S FUCKING EVE!!! HOORAY!!! No one rips me off on Hallow's Eve. $7.95 for a large black the size of (see picture). No way!!! You away!! Five more espressos. Two largER cups of black. Peaceful. Solitude. Sirens approach the almost empty cafe. My exagerration. Gone in a flash. "HELLO WALMART!" "HAPPY HALLOW'S EVE!!!" "ALL YOU GRACIOUS WHITE FOLK!!" Segregation is not extinct, trust me. "HOLY SHIT PRICK!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!"-some anglo-saxon. Confusion. Up and around the gimcrackin' aisles, forty minutes tops. My face, already battered, white man with surprising common sense, how to beat the battered? Would it make a difference? Hotel de Rich. Bejewelled fops. "Money spreads germs, don't you see!!!" Multiple misers. Faces knotted in disgust. Hotel de Rich. Deserted. Fifty minutes tops (busy night, lots of call-girls and married men searching in desperation for their clothes, not the call-girls though, they had the balls, quickly they exited, no tops). The Scene as well. Fetish ball. Hallow's Eve fiesta. Goth kids. Very serious. Lugubrious, the azure sky only brings me pain. Concerned. Low-threshold for the pure wickedness of my exaggeration. Startled cult of the space vampire. Disappear into the black night. Twenty-six minutes tops. Punk rock night at Lou Phlegm's. 'Bout forty-five mo-hawks. Chains. Spikes. Hallow's Eve. Shameful posers.  Received one blow from chip-on-shoulder-punker-pretense. "Take my blood, it's free!! All of it!!! Boo!! Boo!!! You can blow me all night!!!" Seventeen minutes tops. Goodbye. Punk is dead? Souns morbid. Kind of like HALLOW'S EVE!!! OOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! My exagerration with swampy blood eyes retires. Back to the cave. The bats there waiting with dinner. HAPPY-JACK-O-ME-HEADLESS-DOUCHEBAG!!!!! You never know when the gooneyman shall appear on Hallow's Eve. Oh dear.
Lex talionis,

Henry Thee O'Malley x 2,000

Provision for the Reception and Relief of Lunatics: An Essay by Henry O'Malley

Provision for the Reception and Relief of Lunatics:  An Essay.

         Prelude: "Where is the beginning?" asks One. "Where is the ending?" asks Another. The Middle is concerned with both: "Why have they abandoned me?" IT thinks. One and Another both have mouths, but their voices misrepresent the sounds most applicable to their intentions. IT is the substance of both beginning and end, but IT does not ask. IT thinks. There are times when the beginning, middle, and end lose contact with one another.

       Mental illness is not supernatural. So be it Hippocrates. Who, then, is IFrankMaster? IFrankMaster is the devil that invades my mind and body when my brain opens up to receive evil and erase Henry. Frank is not here now Hippocrates. If Hippocrates were Henry, he would have to think a lot harder about his assertion. Mental disease has a physiological and natural basis, but damned be the lot that limit this disease to those two terms. Mephistopheles...archfiend. There are a lot of people don't know about Abraham: there are a lot that do not know anything about anything. We are are all ignorant concerning one thing or another. No one is omniscient; therefore, everyone is ignorant. No lie. I am honest as Abe. I saw him the other day. He was in my room, head-in-hands-weeping, on the floor. I sat down beside him. I promised Sarah the Black-

Kali Sara - Black Sara, not to disturb his weeping; Saint Paul is another story..."We live by faith, not by sight." I did not ask him why he was shedding tears. I knew why. We are telepathically linked. He was in utter despair concerning the present state of America. "...Pretending to be Romans.....pretending to be Romans...." I heard him say these words through his weeping. I nodded. Judy Collins was singing "Send in the Clowns." And then there is Casey, an idiot-lunatic type that bores me to tears everyday with his sports-Tourette's. A lot of Americans have sports and weather Tourette's, but Casey is a bad case. Who do you think you are Hippocrates? They place leeches on my body, bleed me, remove my teeth, leg-chains, manacles, straight jackets, barred basement cells, extreme temperatures, poor ventilation. The Hippocratic Oath. "What I may see or hear in the course of treatment or even outside of the treatment in regard to the life of men, which on no account one must spread abroad, I will keep myself holding such things shameful to be spoken about." Yes, sir. Does my blood press on my brain so? Haldol and thorazine, atypical clozapine...they keep out the supernatural. I once was the gatecrasher of smart-parties. The Mennonite intellect at a party is gatecrashed by a supernatural being in the flesh. They caught him jumping off a train and tumbling onto the prairie. They took him to the barred basement cell that transformed into a white-washed and sterile island of ne'er do wells and false, ineffectual smiles. Termites or needles plunged into his skin and injected Henry back in again.

Lex Talionis,

 

Henry O'Malley

Hexastix

Hexastix

So sorry.....

So sorry

I have been doing extensive research on the fifth book of the Hexastix: The Sticks of Justice. Let me tell you…it has been quite arduous!!! It will be here soon, in full text.
Knowledge is power.

Lex Talionis,
Henry O’Malley

Attention!!! On behalf of my friend Henry...

Attention!!!

On behalf of my friend, Henry O’Malley, I must bring forth some unfortunate news. Henry, as a result of his over-absorption concerning the research for book V of the Hexastix, abandoned the responsibility of taking his daily medications which keep his illness (disorganized schizophrenia) at bay. Please disregard any erratic behavior or absurd posts made by Henry at this time: he needs to be re-stabilized. Yesterday, for instance, a random woman was citing out loud to her friend some vile tragedy that resulted in the death of one man and two seriously injured children. After she read the passage, written in some daily newspaper, Henry began to jump up and down like a hysterical hyperactive child and did not stop laughing for a good solid ten minutes. After this little performance, he exclaimed ” If dinosaurs still roamed the earth, the government would cease to exist, all rulers would be devoured by a flaming tyrannosaurus, and all would be well!!!” He then began to cite a distorted version of Isaiah’s prophecy on the end of the world from chapter 24 of The Old Testament:
“The dinosaurs are going to devastate the earth and leave it desolate. They will twist the earth’s surface and devour its people. 2 Everyone will meet the same fate-the priests and the people, slaves and masters, buyers and sellers, lenders and borrowers, rich and poor. 3 The earth will lie shattered and ruined. The Dinosaurs  have spoken and it will be done. 4 The earth dries up and withers; the whole world grows weak; both earth and sky decay. 5 The people have defiled the earth by breaking the laws of the dinosaurs … 6 So dinosaurs have pronounced a curse on the earth. Its people are paying for what they have done. Fewer and fewer remain alive. 7 The cellphones wither, and television is becoming scarce. Everyone who was once brainwashed and is now sad, 8 and the joyful music of their video games and meaningless banter has ceased. 9 There is no more appalling singing over new technologies; no one enjoys its destruction of the imagination any more. 10 In the city everything is in chaos, and people lock themselves in their houses for safety. 11 People shit in the streets because there is no more toilets. Happiness is gone forever; it has been banished from the land. 12 The city is in ruins, and its gates have been broken down.
This is what will happen in every nation all over the world. It will be like the end of harvest, when the tits have been beaten off every tree and the last dicks picked from the vines. 17 Listen to me, everyone! There are terrors, pits, and traps waiting for you. 18 Anyone who tries to escape from the dinosaurs will fall in a pit, and anyone who escapes from the dinosaurs will be caught in a trap. Torrents of piss will pour from the sky, and earth’s foundations will laugh. 19 The earth will crack and shatter and split open. 20 The earth itself will stagger like a drunk, sway like a hut in a storm. The world is weighed down by its sins; it will collapse and never rise again.
21 A time is coming when the dinosaurs will punish the powers above and the rulers of the earth. 22 Dinosaurs will crowd kings together like prisoners in a pit.They will shut them in prison until the time of their punishment comes.
23 The moon will grow dark, and the sun will no longer shine, for the Tyrannosaurus Rex Almighty will be king. He will rule in Jerusalem on Mount Zion, and the leaders of the people will see his glory!”
This is just a warning. I have faith that he will be stabilized and a bit more coherent very soon.
The good news is that we are working on a new website. Of course, I am working at it alone right now so it is taking a bit longer than I expected if both of us were collaborating, but it will be complete soon.
Good Day,
OSun