I am RC...

The One, The Only, The Man, The Myth, The Legend...

Welcome to my Firing Range.


Da' Rant Section:


"On The Line" 


"Don't kill yourself tonight. I know it makes all the sense in the world right now, the way life gets to you with its pointlessness, I didn't know they could really be like that either, tripped me out too... Please don't do this, I want you to stay on the line... No, I won't call the cops, it's just you and me on the phone... Yes I really do want to talk to you... Yeah, I know I don't know you... Well why did you call the hotline if you didn't want to talk... Right, so tell me what exactly he does to you... How long has this been going on?... Have you told your mom that he touches you? What about anyone at school?... What!... How many times did he burn you with the cigarette?... No, stay on the line... OK, try to call back as soon as he's gone, Ok?... Hello? Hello?..."

She once told me she didn't like to fight back, that she accepted the abuse, it was all she knew.

I don't want to know more about sickness and insanity.
Help me before I turn into Burning fury incarnate.
Please Save me from the inferno, from the abyss, from myself.
I see everything, and become enrage at my own will to live.

A man who pried his eyes out of his skull, put them in an envelope, and mailed them to a country he's never been to. He just wanted to see something different.

I am dangerous to my own mind. I'll starve my brain till it's almost dead, then jolt it back to life on stronger darker horror. I'm getting good at it now. It's all I know.

Imagine the girl who runs away from home, because she's afraid that if her father punches her any harder, she won't live to see her 15th birthday. Her life savings goes into the greyhound bus ticket to the big city. But you just can't come into the city, with no education, no money, and no skills, expecting to "Make it". So, it's been a few months and she's getting good at not throwing up when she sucks some stranger's dick. The other night behind a 7-11 some guy broke her jaw, and left her collapsed behind a dumpster. When she went to hospitable, they ran a blood test on her... HIV positive...

I'll never be there for you, I will always let you down, just like hope, and life itself, the biggest cons.

Regret follows and hollows you out.
Look in the mirror and find that you don't recognize the reflection.
The friend that used to stare back is long gone.
Mindless destruction is the only thing that makes sense.

I want to smash the world with my fist.
Shatter people like they were Christmas ornaments.
Shoot you and your gods in the parking lot.
Strangle lightning bolts, for being so damn weak.

You will all get your own custom made hell, and if you blame anyone but yourself, then we will all know that much more about you.




The sun scours the landscape for a small eternity, till even it gets tired of it self for being so damn mean. Waves of radiation descend to murder any society stupid enough to set up shop under its gaze. The life is baked out of everyone and everything. Walk outside and see the cancers growing on your skin, burning smog inflames lungs, chew the water and don't breath the air.

Can you feel it, can you feel the poisons clawing their way into you?

A line two blocks long for the only job this week, it pays whatever the minimum amount is that the company is forced to pay, and doesn't go up from there.
The man who came with his tools ready, waits on the corner. He says it's easier to find 100 dollar bills in the street, than to find work. There are more guys like him everyday.

A decent paying job in this city will not allow you to live here; you'd need four of those to do that.

Go 30 miles down death's freeway, further into the wasteland, and you might find a place. One of the ghost towns that crawl back into mirages, like the original residents built them just so they'd have a place to leave. You won't be alone out there, the fresh bullet holes and used condoms every morning, prove that. At least someone is having some fun around here.

Is it possible that everything will become so expensive that all of us will be put out on the street? If that happens, who will survive? You?

Keep choking, keep working, keep mutilating yourself.

The streets are paths of human pain.
A man shoots his friend in the face, pulls out of the parking lot, drives three blocks home, shoots his wife, then himself. He was tired of being hunted, of the bitterness of this world fueling his paranoia.

He said the same thing to the two people he dispatched, "Your Welcome".

How some people can be in so much pain, that they kill themselves.
Nothing like mortality to make you feel alive.
Death so vivid it looks artificial


The only sure thing, out here in the desert.




Misc. Writings:

"The Boys of Summer"

"Dream Weaver: Into The Great Wide Open"

"The Other Side"

"God: Live in Concert"

"Smart Bomb"

"A Star With No Name"

"Pascal's Redemption"

"Man On Acid"

"Road To Salvador's"


Comic Scripts & Screen Plays:

"Power Trip: Comic scenes 1-65"


Poems and Lyrics:

"Digital Divide"


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Property of Illegal Maneuvers Productions