Posts Tagged ‘drones’

Metallic bastards
Snooping in the skies above
Drones Drones Drones Drones Drones

– Cyrus Lee Hancock “Book of Drone Haiku”

Last Day of Summer, 2013

“Were you followed?” Cyrus Lee Hancock asked; hesitating with his handshake until it was certain we were alone.

SPY HUNTER teaching America's youth how to drive and shoot since 1983

SPY HUNTER teaching America’s youth how to drive and shoot since 1983

“I had a tail – a couple of dudes dressed up as Jehovah’s Witnesses were chasing me on bike, but I lost them in the WalMart parking lot.”

Hancock glared at me in judgment, his mind chewing on my response like a $5 steak. “Were they definitely spooks or could they have been just regular Jehovah’s Witnesses?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.” Cyrus Lee Hancock replied matter-of-factly, deadpanning, “Jehovah’s Witnesses taste more like chicken. Take a seat.”

Mounting a neighboring barstool, I positioned myself with an eye on the front door and another on a mirror reflecting the back door.

Cyrus Lee Hancock is back with bigger tires

Cyrus Lee Hancock is back with bigger tires

The bathroom door opened and a woman came out, wiping her moist hands on faded blue jeans. Her face, an amalgamation of cosmetic product, appeared familiar. Too familiar. My gut tightened with suspicion, but when her heavy eyelids raised to form a scowl at me, I realized she wasn’t a spook.

DUCK HUNT teaching America's youth how to shoot since 1976

DUCK HUNT teaching America’s youth how to shoot since 1976

“First one today.” Cyrus Lee Hancock lifted his pint of beer in my direction. After our glasses clunk, he tapped his to the tabletop before quaffing half its content. It was hardly the first pint, nor the last, to be quaffed on this night. “You might ask why I bring you here to such a lowly establishment on such a fine night.” he began, his glacier cold blue eyes glassy from the booze. “It is because I have a means to an end to the menace that plagues us both.” Scurvy? Jock itch? “No, nay, no, unless drones make your jock itch, in which case you may have deeper problems. No, I am proposing legislation to Florida state congress to allow for drone hunting permits.

“A town in Colorado is already pursuing as much. Think about it…” Hancock insisted, “we have a right to protect our privacy and home. We have a right to stand our ground against drones. If there is the threat of losing one of their flying toasters, Big Brother is going to think twice about patrolling Florida skies.”

Above Vic's dash - their in the hellish heavens awaits the Spy Blimp

Above Vic’s dash – there in the hellish heavens awaits the Spy Blimp

I didn’t like it and Cyrus Lee Hancock thought my opinion incredulous. “If anyone should be chomping at the bit to bring down a steely bird, I would think it is Vic Neverman.” He had a point. Drones chased me out of my Florida scrub hideaway in 2011. In 2012, I had a spy blimp hover over me for a week straight. I was once even seduced by a Seattle woman who worked for Boeing’s drone division who used me for my particular blend of talents and then dumped me because of my multitude of alter egos (“I just don’t think I can be with someone who I am not certain who they are at any given moment” she explained, which is ridiculous because if she would only ask at any given moment, I would have told her who I was) which just furthered my bad taste for drones.

And yet… “What goes up must come down.” I explained to Cyrus Lee Hancock. “I don’t like your drone counter-offensive for the same reason why the FAA will not allow it. When you shoot down these drones, where will they fall? If that spy blimp is hovering over my shoulder when you take it out, where do you think it is going to land? Vigilantism against snoopy drones, in my opinion, is a bad idea. Better for us all to be vigilante in our paranoia and stay hidden from sight.”

Cyrus Lee Hancock scoffed, “Live and Let Hide? That is the problem with you Gen-Xers. You burnt out in the 90s protesting red meat and inferior flannel. You need to wake up and smell the sarin gas they’re putting on your veggie burger.”

I tasted a dab, “that’s not sarin, its sriracha.”

And where would the drones fall?

And where would the drones fall?

“Dude, I am not going to sit idly by while some tin parrot watches my late-night hot tub sessions. I am going to grab my rifle and take it down. We can win this spy war if we start gouging out their eyes!”

Cyrus Lee Hancock continued, “I understand the need for drones and how they might accelerate certain policing. But at what cost? The EPA busted a Texas pig farmer for dumping waste in the local river. Great, so now I have to pay an extra buck per pound of bacon.”

Hancock held up a victorious hand, “Yay drones!” He was being facetious, I do believe.

He finished his rant as I finished my beer, “I say let them spy all they want, just at their own risk.” We ordered another round. He raised his glass to mine, “First one today.”

Innocent blue sky
Innocent Sunday picnic
Drones assume your guilt

– Cyrus Lee Hancock “Book of Drone Haiku”

Raised Middle Finger
Saluting the Drone Menace
Kiss my pale white ass

– Cyrus Lee Hancock “Book of Drone Haiku”

I see you see me
I gotta bazooka, I
Gonna shoot you down

– Cyrus Lee Hancock “Book of Drone Haiku”

The New World Order
And their terminator drones
Can go suck a dick

– Cyrus Lee Hancock “Book of Drone Haiku”

To Protect and To Serve and To Watch and To Record and To Cite your shitty Parking

To Protect and To Serve and To Watch and To Record and To Cite your shitty Parking


Proverbs for Paranoids, no4: You hide, They seek.

― Thomas Pynchon, Gravity’s Rainbow

The age of the domestic drone is upon us. Look at the greasy General Tso-stained Zodiac chart under your fried rice, right after the Year of the Kinky Monkey comes this: the Year of the Domestic Drone.  And here the cycle ends; there is no Year of the Bloated Pig to follow and save us. The Drones are here to stay. Settle in for the long kiss goodnight, at least to your personal liberties…

To Protect and To Serve and To Watch and To Record and To Cite your shitty Parking

To Protect and To Serve and To Watch and To Record and To Cite your shitty Parking

Fortunately for us domesticated suburbanites, there are test rats who’ve been under the rule of the iron-fisted sky for years. From these infidels, we may learn a trick or two on how to evade the omnipresent eye of Big Brother. Behold – the captured Mali Papers, detailing Al Qaeda advice for avoiding drones. This is part two, see my previous drone blog on the first six rules which seem to be sponsored by the Russian Vladimir’s Secret Lingerie and Electronic Gizmo Catalog. If you are pro-domestic drone, then perhaps my introduction into the subject is the place to start to learn why you are misled.

Note: this is advice for Americans against a potential fascist dystopia in the near distant future. I certainly do not condone the douchery that inspired these Mali Papers in the first place.

Below are tactics 7 through 22 along with Vic Neverman’s personal comments:

Al Qaeda Anti-Drone Tactics (7 – 22), courtesy of the Associated Press

7 – Using general confusion methods and not to use permanent headquarters.

One can only imagine what jihadists consider to be “general confusion.” 3000 years ago, the I-Ching mentions, “Chaos – where brilliant dreams are born.” This is more than fortune cookie inspiration. The drone evader must be irrational. I am not saying set your pants on fire… but on 2nd thought, why not? The drones overhead are piloted either by some algorithm that never saw you coming or some bored pilot who is easily distracted by flaming pants or nude beaches.

It may not be easy to live a domesticated suburban life without a permanent headquarters, but it is possible to switch up your goings-on. Don’t frequent the same bar every Monday Night. Look at online porn at different public libraries. Nap on different park benches. Keep things new and fresh.

8 – Discovering the presence of a drone through well-placed reconnaissance networks and to warn all the formations to halt any movement in the area.

Don't stand anywhere your reflection can be seen from the Moon. Like the freakin' Space Bean of Chicago.

Don’t stand anywhere your reflection can be seen from the Moon. Like the freakin’ Space Bean of Chicago.

Setting up social media could work for routine drone dodging, but a backup plan must be in place should shit hit the fan and the social networks go off-line. Many hysterical conspiracy nuts fear a One World Order’s attempt to subdue We the People and, well, should this occur THEY (the 1-worlders) could pull all stops and shut down the web and cell towers. That is why there is nothing better than a little ham radio. Be sure to pick out a catchy handle like “Jimmy Two-Shoe”, “Goodfoote” or “Bacon Longstrider”.

9 – To hide from being directly or indirectly spotted, especially at night.

Hiding from being directly spotted is a no-brainer, but what the hell does it mean to be “indirectly spotted”? Simple… avoid places that will broadcast your reflection. Or your whereabouts on the web. Turn off your GPS device – they only dumb you down anyway. How do you think you are so easily followed? It is because that Aussie-accented vixen giving you directions is also setting up your own bloody roadblock.

10 – To hide under thick trees because they are the best cover against the planes.

F'ing Predator! He's invisible and he can see in the dark.

F’ing Predator! He’s invisible and he can see in the dark.

Bullshit. The jihadists obviously did not grow-up watching as much HBO as I did. Take the movie, Predator. What do you think the Predator Drone is named after? The crazy son-of-a-bitch alien that hunted Arnold “Dutchy” Swartzeneggar in some Central American hellhole. After Arnold cooked that bitch, the Army took the alien technology and used it in drones to search via infrared and other cool shit like that. Trees, no matter how thick, can’t save you from the Predator.

11 – To stay in places unlit by the sun such as the shadows of the buildings or the trees.

Darkness is overrated. Drones can see in the dark. Better advice is to be moving where there is much movement. When you are one flotsam in the currents of humanity, it is much harder to pick you out.

12 – Maintain complete silence of all wireless contacts.

Then why have wireless contacts? Maintain complete silence when you believe you are being followed or monitored. Then go with a reserve ham radio frequency or resort to calling on disposable phones, but only numbers that are not being monitored.

13 – Disembark of vehicles and keep away from them especially when being chased or during combat.

It would be a good idea to avoid common transport when you believe you are being followed. I only take buses and taxis and only to places I did not intend on going to in the first place.

14 – To deceive the drone by entering places of multiple entrances and exits.

Shopping malls, sports arenas, subways… though keep in mind each of these will have their own internal monitoring.

15 – Using underground shelters because the missiles fired by these planes are usually of the fragmented anti-personnel and not anti-buildings type.

If you are concerned with fragmented anti-personnel missiles then I am afraid I cannot help you. Yeah, I am just afraid.

16 – To avoid gathering in open areas and in urgent cases, use building of multiple doors or exits.

On a more covert level, if you are going to meet with someone you don’t want to be caught with, try Turkish bathhouses, brothels, other places it would be assumed you are up to other duties. If you have an important meeting, try meeting in line at the DMV. Big Brother created the DMV as a means to keep people away, THEY would never suspect you purposely meeting in line there.

Plan to meet at the DMV. No authority would ever assume you would willingly go to the DMV if you didn't have to.

Plan to meet at the DMV. No authority would ever assume you would willingly go to the DMV if you didn’t have to.

17 – Forming anti-spies groups to look for spies and agents.

Umm… not sure what kind of friends you have, but if I attempted to start mobilizing all my friends to look for spies I wouldn’t have friends much longer. Good luck with this one. Best bet is to just be critical of those who laugh at your jokes. A girl that should be out of your league who is suddenly interested in you… probably too good to be true.

18 – Formation of fake gatherings such as using dolls and statutes to be placed outside false ditches to mislead the enemy.

Maybe the jihadists did have HBO. This sounds like something straight out of Home Alone. I am not sure what good false ditches are good for.

19 – When discovering that a drone is after a car, leave the car immediately and everyone should go in different direction because the planes are unable to get after everyone.

Learn to ride a skateboard. They make for quick getaways from tailed cars. Just don’t be the first one out or you might be the first one nabbed by your pursuers who are just as happy to have one vandal who they can torture out the names of the others.

I, however, cannot balance upon a skateboard should my tailbone depend on it. Instead, I just loosen the screws on my friends skateboards and wait for them to try to escape first.

20 – Using natural barricades like forests and caves when there is an urgent need for training or gathering.

A bunch of bearded dudes gathering at Mammoth Cave National Park doesn’t sound like a good idea. If there is a need for training/gathering in private, perhaps agree to separately descend upon the same campsite out in the wilderness. Avoid plotting at Wafflehouse or Denny’s or anywhere the waitresses are smarter than they look.

21 – In frequently targeted areas, use smoke as cover by burning tires.

So much for being inconspicuous. Sure, just run over to Firestone and start setting shit ablaze… No, this is not a good idea.

22 – As for the leaders or those sought after, they should not use communications equipment because the enemy usually keeps a voice tag through which they can identify the speaking person and then locate him.

Oh yeah. Disposable phone or not, the NSA knows who you are whenever you speak. With the disposable phone without GPS, it will just take them longer to find you and burn you out of your hole. Your voice is a virtual fingerprint. Better off texting.

All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.

– W.H.Auden, September 1st, 1939

I am frequently stopped amidst frantic rant by a listener who naively inquires, “Are domestic drones really a bad thing?” They then list several reasonable roles a drone may be able to serve patrolling our skies: enforcing speed limits, scouting for forest fires, substituting for squad cars in police car chases. Aye – valid arguments, all. A drone could even peek into your car to see if you are texting while driving (illegal in some states), receiving oral pleasures while driving (I assume this is illegal) or if you exhibit visible signs of intoxication (illegal in all states)*. Police drones make for safer streets, but once the genie is out of the bottle, he is a fat bitch to cram back in.

*Mothers Against Drunk Drivers has churned out anti-intoxicated driving propaganda for decades, so this is not a concept lost on the public. Other driving restrictions may not be so clearly spelt out. Perhaps we do need a MABJD?

To Protect and To Serve and To Watch and To Record

To Protect and To Serve and To Watch and To Record

Keep in mind, dear reader, by your mere read of this paranoid conspiracy drivel on your computer screen you are being flagged by the NSA (no such agency, shhhh) as someone who reads paranoid conspiracy drivel. My new friend, Professor Erasmus of Otter Dam Military Academy, waxed woefully about how many National Security lists he must be on for just associating himself with yours truly, Vic Neverman, as well as having a sworn blood-brother who happens to be Persian. As a person of interest, Erasmus must attempt to sleep at night knowing his physical and cyber presences are always being monitored with the collected data being filed away at the NSA Spy City Compound in Utah. Once DRONES are overhead videotaping every move of interesting persons, Erasmus (not to mention your humble narrator) will cease to live in a world where privacy exists.

Imagine this – if the British Empire had drones, all of the Revolutionary Ambitions of our Founding Fathers would have been squashed like a grape (seedless, of course). If John, Paul, George and Ringo (Adams, Revere, Washington and Benny “Ringo” Franklin) had to deal with drones, all of their subversive machinations would have been for naught and we would all be speaking German right now (because the Brits wouldn’t have had the USA to bail them out of 20th Century wars). Nicht sehr gut, ja?

Assuming the inevitable – that the stage is set for a dystopian future of fascist police state policies (that is, if you doubt we already exist in such a state), I am writing a series of posts dedicated on how to maneuver unseen/unheard/unfelt and become a wallflower ventriloquist with an ace up your sleeve and a rabbit in the hat.

My first post is a nostalgic piece on Old Man Neverman and his efforts in alluding oppressive authority in the 1980s.

I will also have posts that examine the tactics of the ultimate drone lab rats – Al Qaeda. These are split into two pieces – the silly technical advice on which Russian drone-deterrents your run-of-the-mill terrorist might buy & then common “duck and run” strategies for avoiding detection from the overhead menace.

Soon, I will be posting my hypothesis that the introduction of reality television was a government plot to acclimate the American Public to eternal scrutiny of the omnipresent cameras of the Police State.

Good Luck and Godspeed!


Rise of the Drones

Rise of the Drones

Fight or Flight? With drones buzzing overhead – how should you react? If you were (hypothetically, of course) a jihadist in Mali, Yemen or Miscellanistan, you’ve likely already considered your options as the American robo-pterodactyls circle above you like buzzards over an armadillo buffet at a Texas truck-stop. Drone evasion is an everyday occurrence for suspected terrorists abroad, which creates an interesting lab experiment: What defenses might the lab rat put up against the all-seeing eye of Big Robo-Brother? The lessons learned by our enemies over there may be of use for the common American facing the escalating police state here on American soil.

The Florida Senate passed a bill limiting drones in police surveillance operations and many other states are likely to follow. While that may be so, surveillance camera footage was crucial in capturing the Tsarnaev Brothers after the Boston Marathon incident. It is inevitable that drone usage will eventually be approved for all-out domestic surveillance and our civil rights will ever more become the sandcastle awaiting the rising tide of fascism.

Introducing the Mali Papers: when the French stormed into the Timbuktu headquarters of Al Qaeda, they uncovered the manual for drone evasion handed out to the various terrorist cretins that subscribe to that shit. Below are the first six of 22 lessons on drone evasion accompanied by Neverman advice on how we might apply the notes of these ass-clowns when attempting to preserve our own civil rights at home here in the US of A.

Al Qaeda Anti-Drone Tactics (1 – 6), courtesy of the Associated Press

1 – It is possible to know the intention and the mission of the drone by using the Russian-made “sky grabber” device to infiltrate the drone’s waves and the frequencies. The device is available in the market for $2,595 and the one who operates it should be a computer know-how.

Vic – Bullshit. “Sky-grabber”, really? Vlad “the paler impaler” Putin likely penned these rules himself to promote one of his RadioShack cronies.

Parking Violation

Parking Violation

2 – Using devices that broadcast frequencies or pack of frequencies to disconnect the contacts and confuse the frequencies used to control the drone. The Mujahideen have had successful experiments using the Russian-made “Racal.”

Vic – again, this reads like an add from Vladimir’s Secret Lingerie and Electronic Gizmo Catalogue. “To bring out the inner mujahideen in your partner, trying pairing your borscht-flavored candle with this double-headed meat thermometer.”

3 – Spreading the reflective pieces of glass on a car or on the roof of the building

Vic – perhaps there is something to this mirror stuff. What the Mali bad-guys might know that we domestics do not could be that each of our drones has a little Adonis in them. Perhaps every time a drone sees its reflection, it pauses long enough to admire its sleek stealthy figure and in doing so forgets its true purpose. This may be worth trying out – putting mirrors atop cars and baseball cap lids.

4 – Placing a group of skilled snipers to hunt the drone, especially the reconnaissance ones because they fly low, about six kilometers or less.

Vic – I do not advocate snipers. Not in my domestic surveillance scenario. Should Skynet go haywire and the drones start exterminating human kind, then I will come back and edit this blog post. Until then, keep the sniper rifles pointed down.

Hi There!

Hi There!

5 – Jamming of and confusing of electronic communication using the ordinary water-lifting dynamo fitted with a 30-meter copper pole.

Vic – what the hell is an “ordinary water-lifting dynamo”? Is this how plumbing works in Kandahar?

6 – Jamming of and confusing of electronic communication using old equipment and keeping them 24-hour running because of their strong frequencies and it is possible using simple ideas of deception of equipment to attract the electronic waves devices similar to that used by the Yugoslav army when they used the microwave (oven) in attracting and confusing the NATO missiles fitted with electromagnetic searching devices.

Vic – holy run-on sentence, Batman! I am jammed and confused just reading this advice. Old equipment running 24 hours – I imagine you could play Atari with the volume turned all the way up. Where can we get one of these Serbian microwave ovens that confuse NATO missiles? Not that I expect a NATO strike on my bayou bungalow anytime soon, but it wouldn’t hurt to have… especially if it keeps my nuggets warm.

Stay tuned for Domestic Drone Evasion: Advice from the Enemy (part 2: general confusion methods)


Neverman Recommended Attire for Evading Surveillance: Wide Brim Hat, Urban Camouflage and of course Beard

Neverman Recommended Attire for Evading Surveillance: Wide Brim Hat, Urban Camouflage and of course Beard

Nevermen: the Old Man in his typical disguise of moustache and dark sunglasses

Nevermen: the Old Man in his typical disguise of moustache and dark sunglasses

Consider this an introduction, if you will, to what shall become known as the Ultimate Guide in Eluding the Omnipresent Eye of Big Brother. Eventually, this how-to opus shall grant you, dear reader, relevant guidelines to stealthily propel yourself through time &/or space in a manner worthy of the most elite contemporary paranoid. Metaphorically, we will teach you how to sneak the chill out of ice. Similely, we will show you how to be like a ninja leopard.  Literally, we will make you real sneaky.

Yet this first part is just a mere introduction – the foreplay, if you will (and why wouldn’t you), to the orgiastic splendor of enlightened evasion techniques illustrated in later parts. For now, you, said reader, shall prepare your mind for a brief history of Neverman Elusion.

A curious and creative rendition of Scylla and the swirling suck of Charybdis

A curious and creative rendition of Scylla and the swirling suck of Charybdis

When I, Vic Neverman, was but a pup suckling at the teat of an un-brainwashed counterculture, Old Man Neverman was composing a lesson on the back of a golf scorecard, “Rod’s Rules for Screwing with Smokey.” Yes, even back in those early days of the Reagan Administration, the Neverman clan could feel the cold grip of the menacing police state around their necks. Back then, as now, Old Man Neverman was well respected amongst his peer-group of smugglers, pimps and shrimpers. The knowledge he shared with his fellow island-men of Florida’s Mosquito Coast was liquid gold at the time, that is, if knowledge could be absorbed like the cheap domestic swill canned in Milwaukee these furry fellows gulped-down like Charybdis drinking-in the dribbles of sweet Scylla sweat. To “Screw with Smokey” was to get around the law. The lessons contained here-within are something scrawled in haste, something that crawled out of a time capsule reeking of history. Without history, we would never learn from our mistakes OR our victories. Well, we wouldn’t learn if not for history and of course paternity tests.

Without further explanation, here are a few of “Rod’s Rules for Screwing with Smokey”:

#3 – If Smokey pulls you over for speeding, offer him a beer from your cooler. Most times, they appreciate the chance at refreshment.

#5 – You are not going to blend in if you don’t have a mustache.

#8 – Radar Love: Smokey uses that radar to see how fast you are driving and it works by measuring vibes. So create your own counter-vibrations by cranking up the FM as loud as it will go.

#14 – I told you, Don’t trust red-head chicks.

#16 – Man, you can’t trust the Establishment, but the Reds are dicks. Best bet is to play each side off of the other.

#22 – On PanAm, they don’t let you bring your own booze, so do this: empty out some of them quart bottles of shampoo, wash out real good and fill up with your drink of choice. They can’t keep an American away from his shampoo. And if a stewardess asks why you are drinking so heavily from a bottle of shampoo, tell her to sit on your lap and you will show her.

#23 – You can’t trust your phone line. Install a CB radio in your car and hold all important conversations there.

#24 – Make sure you have a handle that Smokey won’t be suspicious of. Something silly like ‘Vanilla Ice’ will throw the hounds off your scent.

#29 – Stay away from Japanese cars. Shitty cars is the new Pearl Harbor. Stick to your Trans-Am.

#31 – Don’t drive a convertible. They are starting to fill our skies with whirly-birds, which means Smokey can see you from the sky. If you must drive a convertible, wear a ball cap brother.

NeverMum's Trans-Am

NeverMum’s Trans-Am

Home: it is where the heart hangs its hat.

What if your heart wears a hoodie instead of a hat, as well as dark sunglasses and a thick Old Testament beard even the Unabomber would be envious of? What if you are a paranoid spook even the paranoidist of spooks are spooked of? What if every third day occurs without your knowledge, as if your body was hollowed-out and rented by a body-thieving tourist before being returned scratched, dented, with a paper bag of ketchup-sogged fries in the backseat along with some paternity suit from 1999? If these “what ifs” are hitting home by stomping on your empathetic door mat, then it is no struggle for you to imagine “what if you are Vic Neverman?” Well, then… Home is where you fear to tread. Home is the distant horizon you dare not point your bow. Home is the innocent purity you shan’t taint with your muddied footprints. Home is the disaffected uninfected biological mass you shan’t speak to with your disease-ravaged breath. Home… home is the dry grass bed you do not bring your inflamed conscience to camp upon.

Fortunately for yours truly, the NeverMum doesn’t live at Home. And so, I accepted the old dame’s invitation to an Easter Brunch.

NeverMum and Vic with their Kentucky Derby winnings

NeverMum and Vic with their Kentucky Derby winnings

I slipped out of my strange abode along the shores of Bayou St Bas at the witching hour, when the Bog-People who are my neighbors were so sedated on their paint bucket distilled sour mash they wouldn’t remember my exit (if they could even see through their sunburnt cataracts) as I try to leave these swamps unnoticed to where my distant NeverMum awaits. Bollocks to Betsy! My neighbor, the Queen is awake, emerging from her trailer and screaming into her cell phone, “You didn’t get your ass out of the car to give me a hug that day; you were being a real dick… We are good now – we were bad – but we are good now” Queen Georgia, the Bayou’s tyrannix, has startled the feral children beneath her back porch who have resumed their flea-scratching. Her Highness resumes her banter. “No, I will tell you the truth: women will fuck your life up… you can get a piece whenever you want as long as you use a condom… No, let me talk to my son.”

(Note from the author: this is verbatim the conversation as I heard it)

An osprey’s instinct to flee filled the night with a desperate screech of the profane, waking those creatures which previously dozed. I waited for the chaos to settle and with it the pre-dawn mist. At last, I made my departure.

Caffeinated and absorbed by public radio, I traveled west to the edge of Florida bordering the Mexican Gulf where the NeverMum has made her niche as a socialite. I arrived and began my transformation into something palatable for high-society: trimming the beard into something more aptly New Testament and finding some pleaded slacks to cover my chigger-ridden legs. For the moment, I had become something worthy of Mums’ chosen people. Years hence, I was the estranged progeny, the schizophrenic son of another Neverman. Now, though… now that I have become the self-starting explorer financing an Amazon expedition with the winnings he made at their Kentucky Derby brouhaha, I had become something of an eclectic celebrity. I had become something they wanted a part of – just not within arm’s reach.

Of course, the NeverMum loves her NeverBoy either way. And the NeverMum wasn’t just married into the Neverman Family for a period of time, she too has the paranoia flowing in the Appalachia blood within her veins. Sure – her deviled egg platter was a crime against humanity, but the old dame has a dark side she hides away from her esteemed gentlefolk of the city. Or, perhaps, the NeverMum has just read too many of my blog rants.

Bedeviled Eggness, something out of a Hieronymus Bosch brunch

Bedeviled Eggness, something out of a Hieronymus Bosch brunch

“Vic!” the NeverMum called me aside. “I’ve heard the drones.”

Oh do go on.

On she went. She had her notes:

  • She hears them every morning at 12:03 am
  • She’s heard them either come up Palm Avenue or go down Orange Blvd
  • She’s read where they can weigh as little as 2 lbs
  • She believes the drones belong to the local Crook County Sheriff’s Department
  • She believes the drone program is being instituted in Crook County because of the high density of old people who are sure to be asleep when the drones take flight
  • She believes the police drones are practicing their craft by following around the population of homeless who sleep within the mangroves of Crooked Beach

In short, this retirement Shangri-La on the west coast of Florida has become the skunk-works for the domestic drone program. Needless to say, I spent the next evening scanning the midnight skies for the flighty bastards while sipping my step-father’s expensive scotch. As if they expected my eyes upon the skies, the prized raptors strayed from their usual path and my ears only heard the constant humdrum of automobile along US-41.

Easter Brunch was a success. Someone had the gall to eat Mum’s hard-boiled diablos, so she was pleased. I drank bloody marys befitting of the holiday and tried to gamble more expedition financing out of high-society through wagers on the NCAA tournament. Eventually, it came time to leave.

I’ll be damned if there weren’t a damnable spy blimp waiting to send me off…

Above Vic's dash - their in the hellish heavens awaits the Spy Blimp

Above Vic’s dash – there in the hellish heavens awaits the Spy Blimp

Hiding within a janitorial closet in the mountain compound that is Denver International Airport and subsisting off pre-natal vitamins stolen from my sister’s cabinet, I was able to keep half-abreast* of Rand Paul’s filibustering attempt to learn whether the President can send drones to assassinate American citizens within the United States. The question is a relevant one to be sure, just a question with as much potency as an iguana attempting to fornicate with a dead Norwegian narwhale using its second, and thus least dependable, penis**. The truth in the post-Patriot Act world is that executively ordered drones to exterminate without extreme prejudice or oversight or partisanship or mediocre prejudice is as common as an amply buxom broad named “Josephine” in a Bourbon side-Street brothel.

*somewhat abreast in a high heel shoes and a low-neck sweater*** kind of way

**Most reptiles have two penises. Back-off man, I’m a scientist****

***A Beatles reference

****A Ghostbusters reference

While a drone execution on American soil would be a novelty, for sure, it is inevitable… a matter of time (time may be relative, but it is still relevant in a fourth dimensional perspective). Beyond the threat to my own mortality, however, my paranoid concerns are more driven by the game warden aspect to the White House’s (Pentagon’s) domestic drone policy – tagging, surveying and tranquilizing the citizenry in a manner to study and control the population. We, the People, are the subject of the grand experiment. We are to be tested, prodded, cavity-explored, x-rayed, flouride-ed, chem-trailed, harvested, leached, divided & multiplied, inoculated, emasculated, xeroxed and buggered (not necessarily in that order) for the good of one world orderliness. Drones are just one piece to the jaded jig-sawed-off-shotgun puzzle that is our lives under tyranny.

For example, let us look at Dennis Rodman. If “the Worm” hasn’t met a hellfire missile homecoming after returning from North Korea, then who would? The dude certainly is not a hard target. He is 7’23” and stands out like… well, he stands out like Dennis Rodman. I, Vic Neverman, have been within Rodman’s company twice (albeit, without his knowledge): once while within one of his Chicago night clubs (a journalistic foray into the underworld of gambling on camel wrestling) and again in an Orlando night club during NBA’s All-Star Weekend (I was trying to impress some chick and managed to work my way into Rodman’s entourage using my best Sean Connery impression and a couple crisp Andrew Jacksons*****). Had I known of Rodman then what I know now, I would have stayed as clear of him as a heat-seeking metallic dildo missile in a lightning storm. If any domestic needed striking down, it would be Dennis Rodman. Yet, he remains. Despite Madonna’s bacterial warfare campaign, “the Worm” remains. The only logic conclusion: He is one of Them.

*****Andrew Jackson: urban lingo for a ten dollar bill

Perhaps Rodman is just some zombified spy of the American Military Industrial Complex employed to sneak over to Pyongyang to slip some cancer agent into Kim Jong Un’s Jaeger-Bomb just as Sean Penn squirted his cancer aerosol into Hugo Chavez’ espresso. If the American Imperialists haven’t drawn and quartered Rodman and Penn as turncoats, then perhaps the reason why is they haven’t is that these characters are working for US.

FEAR YE NOT, dear reader, Vic does has made it a practice to always turn down any opportunity to gain unlawful carnal knowledge of Madonna, which seems to be a prerequisite for the modern celebrity assassin. Unfortunately, this still leaves a vast swath of humanity in question…

CORRECTION: I am told it was Carmen Elektra that was Rodman’s celeb companion, but I still wouldn’t put it past Madonna.

Over the last week, there has been public outcry over the “30,000” figure floating around the American cyber-conscious in reference to the number of drones predicted to be overhead in the United States within the next 10 years. Most of the frantic voices could not tell you where the number came from (I can, see below for link to the Monmouth study), but when it comes to popular internet memes, source material rarely has to be footnoted. In this case, the source is legit. In this case, the cause for alarm should be less surprising than obvious. Am, I, Vic Neverman, startled by this projection? Absolutely not. Not when I already have drones buzzing overheard of my summer scrubbrush hideaway.

The Monmouth Survey:

Public Intelligence’s map of domestic drone bases:

Yeah. That’s right, my off-the-grid location in a Florida State Park is infested with drone. While I have only seen this turbo-propped flying lawnmower twice, it cannot be mistaken: Too large to be a toy, too small to carry anything larger than a capuchin. The map of current domestic drone bases (above) does not show anything in Central Florida, so I surmise it is minions of Ares (greek god of war, bloodlust, weaponry) at the nearby Lockheed-Martin facility at play.

The panicked public is concerned with privacy rights, which is laughable. To be a member of society in this era of over-stimulation, disinformation and online voyeurism, you must leave your privacy at the door. In the future, these drones will hover over highways, gauging your vehicle speed and whether you’re driving with signs of intoxication and if your heat patterns indicate text messaging or blow-job reception. The ticket will be in your inbox along with video evidence of your crime.

The double-standard of the above Monmouth poll results is how willing Americans are to have these airborne robot assassins blowing up bad guys (and then returning to blow up anyone attending the funeral) as long as it is all happening ‘over there’. When it comes to using the same technology to police our streets, there is outcry. This domestic policing, on the surface and albeit ignoring the long-term probability of corruption, would indeed keep us safer (more would think twice about drinking and driving with the Beast of Kandahar overhead). The foreign assassinations – all decided by the executive branch’s secret ‘Kill List’, which does not seem to have any checks and balances to hold the Chief accountable – meanwhile, actually increases the threat of further terrorist plots against us. Our outcry is misplaced.

There has to be a better way than to almost-indiscriminately blow the living shit out of suspected bad guys (this coming from a guy who has been called much worse) in order to fight terrorism. Imagine the Pakistani John Connor whose parents are unknowingly housing some Saudi Al Qaeda: Skynet sends in the Terminator to exterminate the entire village, leaving Paki John with a livelong antagonism for the American ‘Way’. This does not make us safer! Violence begets violence. Who is safer? Those who supply the bullets. Those who benefit from never-ending conflict are those who benefit from ‘shoot-first, ask questions later’ foreign diplomacy.

The Democratic Party regularly updates the achievements of the current administration. See the link below and note that half the accomplishments include killing bad guys (almost all of whom we only know of from what is disclosed to us by those that do the killing, like an executioner showing the jury some of the evidence after the fact). Keep in mind, also, the numbers about ‘collateral damage’ in these drone strikes is skewed by labelling Pakistani John Connor’s parents as perceived threats instead of happenstance bystanders.

With Obama came ‘Change’. This was apparent when GITMO was closed down. With Obama came status quo. This was apparent when GITMO remained open. Obama walked in on what Bush was already cooking and really just evolved the recipe with enhanced technology. It is a jingoistic platform rationalized as “just” through anti-jihadism, defending ourselves against the defenders of the faith. I do not disagree there is a very real threat. I just disagree with the methods with which we mean to extinguish the threat.

Our current foreign policy is nightmarish, if you look at it from anywhere else the world. Would electing Mitt Romney be any better? Absolutely not. Mitt has no foreign policy experience and has hired G.W. Bush’s FP analysts – the same cats that began this mess overseas. If it is impossible for you imagine yourself outside the fishbowl, take a look at the following poll of global opinion. Perhaps you don’t give a shit what the rest of the world thinks, but if you are really that naïve and arrogant, you probably haven’t read this far in my blog. Note in the below link, the majority everywhere is against our drone strikes in Pakistan. Everywhere but the United States and India (who never mind things going boom inside their antagonistic neighbor’s border).

Another great accomplishment ‘accidentally’ leaked by the White House was the Flame/Stuxnet virus that has run havoc through Iran’s infrastructure, delaying their ability to manufacture a nuclear weapon. This is good news, especially for Israel, who stands alone and very vulnerable. My caution here – as we continue to develop our cyber-warfare capabilities – is watch-out what Pandora’s Box we open. We Americans might have an incredible edge in cyber offensive/defensive ability, but we are also the most dependent on technology and thus the most vulnerable.

Imagine a cyber-warfare version of the Cuban Missile Crisis. If we strike Havana and shutdown their power grid, it is just a regular Tuesday night (literally, I was there, it happens). Should Cuba contract some disenfranchised American anarchists to work for them and these kids managed to pull off a similar attack against Miami… pandemonium. Miami without power for one night would result in absolute panic in the streets. As well as we arm ourselves here in Florida, every itchy trigger finger could account for one less neighbor as we attempt to defend ourselves from ourselves. To quote a Cyrus Lee, a local ‘prepper’ and survivalist expert, “When the shit hits the fan, the majority of people will panic. Their sudden lack of mental clarity will either heighten their aggression or put them into a stunned rabbit trance. They will either become cannibals or cannibal fodder.”

Beyond domestic drones, foreign drone assassins and cyber warfare, current foreign policy follows the previous administration (and thus would be the same as any Mitt Romney policy). Obama and Dick Cheney both follow the same logic of nationalistic self-preservation by manipulating the world’s energy sources. First – develop alternative sources of oil regardless of their environmental impact (Obama looks to exploit domestic sources as well as Brazil’s potential as a future supplier). Second, maintain a strong presence in the Persian Gulf. Third, undermine Russia’s oil/gas competitiveness. Fourth, control the seas of Southeast Asia in order to ensure China behaves. See below for a CBS article that covers these strategies in more detail.;contentBody

Imperial Jingoism at its finest! Surprisingly, Imperial Jingoism doesn’t win one many friends, only opportunistic ‘allies’. Certainly, Americans deserve leadership that is going to strive to keep the United States as a front runner in the global economy – but at what cost? I was stranded overseas during 9/11 and the aftermath; during this period of my foreign wanderings, it was apparent everyone had our back. All of that empathetic international support for the United States was then squandered as our Military Industrial Complex shat out its twin National Security Complex and both began their campaign of vengeance and control.

In the 2012 Presidential Election, you will not hear these policies debated. Why not? Because the Establishment controls both candidates. It doesn’t matter who is in office in 2013, these policies are going to continue unless there is bi-partisan populist opposition. The election is going to come down to peripheral social issues, which I do not mean to belittle, but the point is that the influence of the United States over the rest of the world will not even be up for debate. It is predetermined. We, the People, have no say. Yes, we are allowed to vote on what is more morally right (family values vs. universal healthcare), but the morality we vote for is restricted to the shit the Establishment doesn’t really give a damn about. What they do care about is already decided. The delusion of Democracy blinds us to the bigger picture we have no power over.

Slightly south of noon, I lunched with my Puerto Rican psychic sidekick from Milwaukee and her Miscellasian stationary-bike trainer (he was miscellaneous Asian, but our soup was specifically Vietnamese) on what was a visually pleasant Floridian day. It was visually pleasant, the heat was oppressive. The late spring temperature was hot, sure, but the oppressive heat I refer to is the omnipresent eye of the police state. Take for instance the dozen cameras overhead, protruding from the ceiling in this assumingly inconspicuous soup joint. Take for another instance the old lady across the street, smirking at us from beneath her white sun hat, waving as she held a sign up “god bless you”. I scowled at her, the smirking antagonist and her veiled, jumbled, threats. The voice of attempted reason rose out of my Puerto Rican psychic sidekick from Milwaukee, insisting the woman’s message was straight-forward, but I countered: might the letters of her message be rearranged to read “y u do blogss?” as an inquisition into my line of business, that being the blogging business, specifically the conspiracy blogging business? Yes. It very well might. This elder thought she knew what I know and she wanted me to know she knew it.

Oh sure, you may call me ‘paranoid’. Just don’t call me ‘late to happy hour’. Of course, they called me paranoid after the drone assassination of the American jihadist in Yemen and I asked how long until drones are gunning down Americans domestically. Now where are we? We have flying lawnmowers patrolling the border and twice this spring I have seen a ‘domesticated’ drone (you can take the Beast out of Kandahar, but can you take the Kandahar out of the Beast) patrolling overhead in Central Florida. Who is paranoid now? And what’s next? The biggest cloud-humping spy blimp you could ever imagine. And it is just the beginning.

Northrop Grumman is about to beta test its Long Endurance Multi-Intelligence Vehicle, known affectionately as ‘LEMV’, a helium-bloated robot cloud the size of the Death Star and equipped with any and every surveillance device you can imagine in your perverted little mind. The prototype can carry 20 tons of supplies… or bombs or tear gas or ping-pong balls filled with sleeping gas to drop on an Occupy Movement near you. Future versions will be able to carry much more. The first test for das Über-blimp, according to Danger Room, is a trip south from Jersey to Florida before being outfitted for a transatlantic flight to battlefronts over there.

Over there, the Outremer, for now… For later, who knows? Fortunately, for Vic & Friends, the super-blimp has its kryptonite… bad weather. Bring on hurricane season!

Spy Blimp illustration courtesy of Danger Room

I pledge allegiance to the flag of the killer drones of America; and to the NDAA, with which it sends, anyone who looks funny to eternal damnation.

In an effort to more clearly define the military’s ability to detain American citizens, the National Defense Authorization Act was passed by Congress in December, 2011, without being vetoed by the White House. This bill, supported by Senators John McCain and Lindsey Graham, allows Americans to be detained without trial and held indefinitely at overseas bases, like Guantanamo Bay in Cuba. While terror-suspects have already been susceptible to American dungeons abroad, it had yet to be justified via act of Congress.

This act allows our paranoid government to judge based on suspicion, exiling even the slightest outspoken critic of policy without having to worry about the burden of proof. Exile is a very effective censorship policy. Let us imagine a hypothetical, where some supposed government critic, we will call Dick Everman for the sake of this story, speaks out against the current regime and just so happens to have once dated a chick who was a radical animal rights activist*. Could this alone be enough to suspect Dick and send him overseas indefinitely? Without any government accountability or a trial by jury, it seems possible. Imagine, then, Dick Everman arriving at some malarial summer camp of ne’er-do-wells that includes Islamic extremists, anarchists, eco-terrorists, and other conspiracy bloggers. Dick’s best bet for survival would be to join one of the prison camp gangs, probably one of the jihadist clubs, which would require some indoctrination of faith, a few packs of cigarettes, on-demand sexual favors, and perhaps shanking some bitch from the rival gang. Surreal? Sure, but not out of the question.

*Animal rights bombers are now considered to be amongst FBI’s most wanted –

In response to the NDAA, Montana law-makers are actually trying to recall** their two senators that signed off on the act. Across the web, national security activists are speaking out. Unfortunately, most of these activists are racist militia rednecks whose bigoted zeal makes the NDAA sound like the smart choice.

**Article on the Montana senator recall –

Exporting suspicious Americans is especially alarming given the fact the US drone program has been blowing up Americans in Yemen. While those deaths were of terrorists who likely deserved to have their mortal coil shuffled off, the precedent of assassinating Americans without a jury of peers is frightening. Unless you consider Skynet to be a fucking peer.

What is called for is more transparency. If we are going to pack up the undesirable citizens and send them south, there must be a due process for examining these cases, the results of which must be made available to the public. The same for these illegal droning missions. While these strikes do require the use of intelligence best kept confidential, at some point, these strikes need to be justified. I am okay with the CIA asking forgiveness instead of permission, but these drone attacks need to be scrutinized. Death-dealing drones work magnificently at doing the dirty work and keeping American boots off the ground, but if you look at the collateral damage in the pictures of children left dead or lame in the wake of our secret drone war in Pakistan, then you will understand why we must find a way to curb the destruction.

Shit, writing a blog such as this one might just be enough to get our hypothetical Dick Everman renditioned to a secret dungeon in Bahrain for a little torture-by-proxy. Let us hope not.

Happy New Year!