Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Ryanindaswamp / Man In Da Street


The South Side



The journey from the south side north was always in some way interesting.
Then on certain dayz, just plain outrageous.
Today was one of those.

I decided to cut over from 44th and 6th west past the pawn shop.
From there I proceeded north behind Food City to the neighborhood, then coming up out of the neighborhood to 33rd, then up and over to south 6th avenue. 

I was about four blocks into the neighborhood, heading north. 

As I approached the 5th block I felt a vibe.

 

Vibes are an integral part of my life on a nano to nano basis.
For vibes have been the main ingredient regarding my continuous daily occurrence of exhaling CO2 on this treacherous planet.  

I casually glanced 25 degrees to my left. 
Thank you vibe.

There stood, over waist high, thick and built, four Pit Bull dogs. All about a year old.

These beasts were all white except for one. 
He was white with black spots, and a big black spot covering his left eye. 
Adding character as it were.



I proceeded forward, then looked again left. 
Seemingly this team of pups were walking my way. 
Their determination in their pursuit to check me out was relentless.
Upon their approach they all took up their decided positions.

The first Pit positioned himself directly in front of me. Actually in my direct path.
The second pup positioned herself on my left.
The third escort walked around me, taking his position to my right.
Spot eye picked up my rear flank.

I did not stop my walk. 
My escorts just calmly fit themselves in cadence.

There I was, as it were, walking in the middle of a south side hood street chaperoned by my newly acquired  friends.

At this point, we walked, I talked. 
Softly. 
Very Calmly.
Telling these pups how beautiful they were and how damn big they were.

Forget for a moment they were very large Pit Bulls. 
They were absolutely some of the biggest dogs I had ever seen.

So we walked and talked. 

After four blocks I commented to my newly assigned troops how big they were. 
That they're doggie parents must be very large as well. 
I inquired at that point as to where were their Momz and Popz.

That's when I caught it.

On a front lawn, inclining upwards at about 20 degrees stood for sure the biggest damn Pit Bull, dog I had ever seen.
Mom.

Mom figured, what the hell. 

She joined in on this bazaar march. 
Mom took up right flank. 
I told her she was surely big. 
I said Popz had to be as big as well or, God Forbid, bigger.

Just as the period appeared on my vocal sentence, there he was. Approaching from the right. 
For sure, without a doubt, he was Big Dog. 
He joined the parade.

We all walked on for another block, me and the whole dog Famdamily.

Out of the wild blue, big pup in front hit the deck, rolled over, Started licking my legs. 
Then sister and brothers joined in this street love while Momz and Popz looked on.

After a few minutes of love they all approached me to receive Some serious behind the ear petting.

Then, just as they approached me, they all disbanded and went their various ways.
Then, exhibiting a choreographed cheerleader move, they all Looked back and nodded their heads to the right as if signaling Farewell.

I looked up. 

I muttered to HIM. 

Uh Huh.
Walking with Wild Pit Bulls. 
You for sure Trippin Lord. 
Then in a quick lickety, a strong desert breeze brushed it's Sweetness over me followed by three butterflies passing directly In front of me and just to make sure HE was clear, a black bird Descended before me screeching his, "Have a good day Buddy".

I proceeded to 32cd street, then cut over to south 6th avenue. 
As I made my way north up south 6th avenue, approaching 31st street I noticed on the east side corner on 6th avenue and 31st street three young Mexican men, 17 to 18 years old Standing there, more like securing that particular part of the Tarmac.

These teenagers were dressed in red. 
Red bandanas. 
Bloods.



With these young men were two very beautiful young Mexican Girlz. 
Maybe sixteen years old.

I continued north on south 6th. 
I always walk opposite of the traffic flow. 

As I approached 30th, one of these young ladies made her approach towards me. 
Crossing south 6th to my side of the street.

As she grew closer, to what I call my meet and greet space I said;

"Yo señorita aplogize. no soy una perspectiva buena."

For my single lingual readers. Defined> I apologize. I am not a good prospect

Young girl positioned herself to my right, without a word, fell in lock step with me.

The time was 8:45. 
Sunday morning.
We walked in this manner, silent for the next three blocks.

Without any props, out the wild blue, this beautiful young girl said to me;

"¿Tiene algún licor?"

 For my single lingual readers. Defined>Do I have any liquor?


"No, te puedo asegurar que no lo haga. ¿No es demasiado joven para beber licor. Así que es muy pronto."

For my single lingual readers. Defined> No, I sure don't. Are you not too young to be drinking liquor. As well it is so very early.

"Hace que vaya más rápido"

For my single lingual readers. Defined> It makes it go faster.

"Que quiere decir los hombres y todas las repeticiones?"

For my single lingual readers. Defined> You mean the men and all the repetition?

"Si"

"We walked on for a bit."

"Se puede orar por mí?"

For my single lingual readers. Defined> Will you pray for me?


"Sí. Rezaré por usted. ¿Cómo se llama usted?"

For my single lingual readers. Defined> Yes. I will pray for you. What is your name?

"Mi nombre es Monique."

For my single lingual readers. Defined> My name is Monique.


"Para que Monique. Que Dios los bendiga."

For my single lingual readers. Defined>For sure Monique. God Bless You.

With that Monique trailed off east, across 6th avenue.
I turned right off south 6th avenue, west up south 28th street. 
I walked another 10 steps up south 28th.
My tears started to hit the hot tarmac like exploding mortars. 
I looked and said through the torrential onslaught of tears;

Lord, God Almighty, Please, Oh God, Please Intercede and Find This Young Lady. Save Her Lord. Oh God Please Save Her.

Can't say how long I stood there begging My Lord God Almighty To Save This Beautiful Young Girl from the spoils of war.
Tears finding this keyboard as I type. 
The treacherous, wicked world for now safely at bay.

Ryan. Out. 

I found this article interesting.

Source;
Realclearworld.com
A real newz source


Wednesday 23 April 2014

What does Vladimir Putin want in Ukraine?

Subversion from within – not attack from without – has emerged as the Russian president’s favoured technique for controlling events in Ukraine

Russian President Vladimir Putin stands at the table before the meeting with the permanent members of the Russian Security Council in the residence of Novo-Ogaryovo outside Moscow on April 11, 2014. President Vladimir Putin on Friday said Russia would fulfil its contractual obligations to send natural gas to Europe after threatening to pull the plug on energy supplies over Ukraine's unpaid gas bill
If Vladimir Putin wants to change the world bequeathed by the West’s victory in the Cold War, then where exactly does this mission end? Photo: AFP/Getty Images
When is an invasion not an invasion? No Russian tanks have rolled across Ukraine’s eastern frontier and no spearhead infantry units are ravaging the post-industrial wastes of the Donbas, yet the Kremlin has still managed to seize de facto control over a string of towns inside its neighbour.
This shadowy operation in eastern Ukraine reveals much about the temperament of President Vladimir Putin. Ordering a conventional military invasion – a sort of Operation Barbarossa in reverse – would have been far too obvious for this KGB graduate. While Nato’s high command fretted over the presence of between 35,000 and 40,000 Russian troops on Ukraine’s border, he chose a more subtle method of coercing his neighbour.
Subversion from within – not attack from without – has emerged as Mr Putin’s favoured technique for controlling events in Ukraine. A full-scale invasion may yet happen, but for now at least, the Kremlin has chosen to wage a deniable war in the twilight.
Stage one of this operation began 10 days ago when armed men seized government buildings in Kharkiv, Luhansk and Donetsk, the capitals of Ukraine’s three eastern regions with large Russian minorities. Then, on Saturday and Sunday, this campaign suddenly escalated. Within the space of 24 hours, the gunmen occupied police stations and other official buildings in six towns across the Donetsk region.
Their modus operandi summoned comparisons with the fate of Crimea, which fell under de facto Russian control in a few days in February. As in Crimea, the men in the vanguard of these assaults flew Russian flags from their conquests. As for their aim, they demanded total autonomy for their home regions – or straightforward union with Russia.
William Hague, the Foreign Secretary, drew an explicit parallel with Crimea yesterday, noting how the “forces” in action in eastern Ukraine were “behaving in exactly the same way as what turned out to be the Russian forces in Crimea”. All this amounted to a “gross, deliberate and premeditated violation of the independence and sovereignty of Ukraine”, Mr Hague added.
So will eastern Ukraine go the way of Crimea and end up as another region of Russia, or is Mr Putin playing a more subtle game? No one can doubt that he has already achieved his first objective, namely to impale Ukraine’s post-revolutionary government on the horns of an impossible dilemma. If the country’s new leaders rise to this challenge and deploy their army to wrest back the occupied towns and government buildings, then Russians might well be killed – and Mr Putin would have his pretext for a full-scale invasion.
Hour after hour, Russian television pumps out propaganda about how Ukraine has fallen into civil war and the February Revolution brought “fascists” and “extremists” to power. Mr Putin would claim any bloody incident as proof of his case. If he chose to invade, he would present the onslaught as the only way of calming the chaos, hoping that we would forget his part in causing it.
If, on the other hand, Ukraine’s leaders ignore the provocation and leave towns like Slovyansk in the hands of their enemies, then the central government will steadily lose control over the east. Groups of masked men would carry out one occupation after another. The map might remain the same, but in reality, the border between Russia and Ukraine would be submerged as the Kremlin proceeded with the creeping annexation of large areas of its neighbour, building by building and town by town.
In theory, the government in Kiev has made its choice. On Sunday, Oleksandr Turchynov, the acting president, gave the armed men until yesterday to leave all public buildings or face an “anti-terrorist operation”. But the deadline attached to this threat expired with no sign of an assault, suggesting that Mr Turchynov and his colleagues are still wrestling with their dilemma.
That will not have disappointed Mr Putin. He has carefully left his adversaries with a way out: they can escape from their agonising predicament, but only by doing exactly what he tells them.
Russia has already spelt out its objectives in Ukraine: the Kremlin wants the country to have a new constitution allowing total autonomy for the eastern regions. In addition, Russia demands that this new settlement must guarantee Ukraine’s non-aligned status – in other words, rule out membership of Nato or the European Union for ever. Taken together, these diktats would guarantee that Ukraine remains firmly inside Moscow’s orbit.
With the manoeuvres of the past few days, Mr Putin hopes that he has won the leverage to bend Ukraine’s leaders to his will. “There are two possible interpretations of these events,” says Dr Alex Pravda, a Russia specialist at St Antony’s College, Oxford. “Either this is part of a long-term strategy to partition Ukraine. Or it’s a series of tactical moves designed to leverage influence over Kiev. I think it’s the latter.”
But Mr Putin is running risks. The first is that Ukraine’s leaders might choose the first horn of the dilemma and meet force with force. If they wrest back a town, killing a dozen or so Russians in the process, then Mr Putin could find himself under pressure to invade, whether that is part of his plan or not. “More than five or 10 casualties would be a very difficult situation for him to manage,” says Dr Pravda. “He’s trying to create a chaotic situation where he has managed leverage, but it’s high risk.”
Moreover, the people of eastern Ukraine might not behave in quite the way that Mr Putin hopes. If he wanted to trigger a groundswell of popular revulsion against the revolutionaries in Kiev, then it has not happened yet. Only a few hundred people have been directly involved in the occupations, supported by relatively modest crowds of demonstrators.
Unlike in Crimea, ethnic Russians are a minority in eastern Ukraine, albeit a sizeable community of 38 per cent in the Donetsk region. None the less, opinion polls suggest that support for joining Russia is a minority cause. Over 83 per cent of voters in Donetsk backed independence for Ukraine in a referendum accompanying the dissolution of the Soviet Union in December 1991. So it is far from obvious that Mr Putin is working with the grain of popular opinion. If he does invade, the inhabitants of eastern Ukraine could wage an eternal partisan war behind the lines even if he achieved a conventional military victory.
There is, however, a still more important question. What exactly are Mr Putin’s long-term goals? In his speech announcing the return of Crimea to Russia last month, he denounced the iniquities of the post-Cold War settlement, forced upon his country at its moment of maximum weakness. He promised a rapturous audience that he would reverse those injustices and restore Russian greatness.
That ambition clearly included annexing Crimea. But does it also require a forcible redrawing of the map of eastern Ukraine to incorporate more Russian-speaking regions into the mother country? And what about the Baltic states, all of them members of Nato and the EU, while also being home to significant Russian minorities?
If Mr Putin wants to change the world bequeathed by the West’s victory in the Cold War, then where exactly does this mission end?
Perhaps he is only really interested in the Slavic heartland of the old Soviet Union, namely Russia, Ukraine and Belarus. Equally possible is that he does not know the answer to that question. But the fate of eastern Ukraine in the weeks ahead will help to reveal how far Mr Putin is prepared to go in his burning ambition to restore Russia’s greatness.


















Monday, April 21, 2014

Ryanindaswamp / Man In Da Street


I Gotta Pit Named Binney

            
 

"Hey Ryan".

"Hey Veronica. You slummin today"?

"Well, Yeah. I'm always slumming when I'm with you Ryan. Actually I'm down here hanging with my Girl Friend Lorraine".

"Uhmm. Uhmm. Uhmm. Sweet Lorr-Aine cribbing up in her mansion up in da foothills".

"That's right old-man".

"Damn V.. Why don't you show an old-man some love? Hook up dat Sweet Lorr-Aine thang for dis old-man".

"Sorry stud. Lorraine don't do poor".

"Tehhh. By the time I'm dun with her she be trickin on Oracle"

"Yeah right. Oh well. Too bad we will never know".

"Uh Huh. Just love that red jealous glow make up you sportin Girl".

"Fuck you Ryan. Like I actually care".

"There Ya go. So hook it up".

"Fuck you Ryan. I'm going to the K".

"Cool V. Pick me up those giant small bags of Kit Kat 2 for 3".

"Sure Tuff Guy. Keep holding your breath".
Ryan chuckles.

"Dammnnn Girl. Red Jealous Glow looks good on you".

"Fuck you Ryan. We'll see who laughs last. Yeah, laugh on you old fool. I hate you Ryan".

"Yeah. You at the end of a real, real long line Girl".

Ryan can not even catch his breath as he is laughing so, so very hard. Ryan reaches behind himself and pats his butt.

"What the hell are you doing Ryan"?

"I'm checking my ass to see if it's still there. I swear to God V., you have me rollin. Could have sworn I laughed my ass entirely off".
Ryan is gasping for air, he is laughing so hard.

"Fuck you Ryan. I hate you".

"Damn Girl. You sure been real uptight lately. Anger off da wire. Whats the matter, Doc Blaisdale not hittin dat cookie just right. Maybe not at all. Not to worry Girl. I'll be more than happy to intervene. I'll give Doc a call, give him some cookie hittin pointers".

"Like you would even know Mr.Celibate for life".

At this point Ryan' laughing is completely out of control just about propelling him out of his chair.

"Fuck you Ryan. For real Ryan I hate you".

"You hate me too. So does Abagail. She always signs off, texts, e-mails, phone calls with I Hate You. Hey, what the hell. Ya All might just want to start The Hate Ryan Fan Club. Even Google has suspended all advertising from this blog site".

"Fuck you so bad Ryan. I really, really hate you. Abagail was right to stab you".

"Damn. Malicious Monday".

Veronica reaches into her enormous purse. Livid would be a gigantesque upgrade.

"Damn Girl. I'm just playin. For real Veronica. Your not gonna shoot me. Are you"?

"I hate you. I'm out of here ass hole".

"Oh. Give my love to Sweet, Sweet Lorrr-Aine. Tell her me and Mr. Big send our best".

Veronica turns around, flips Ryan two birds. One on each hand. Veronica starts through the two glass doors.
Ryan breaks into song.

"Rolley Polley Macarolley. Baby Struttin Her Rolley Polley".
At this point Ryan is about hysterical with laughter.

If all that was not enough.

Today is Monday.

Yeah.

Bet the farm.


"Yo Mann. You Straight?"  

I turn my head right, over my shoulder 45 degree's.
Sitting on a 20 inch high handle bar bicycle was at best, regarding this Kidz age, a 13 year old Black Kid.

"Yo Man. You straight?"

"Yes young man, I like women."

"Naw. Naw Mannnn. You straight?"'

"Yes young man. I like women."

The time is approaching 1a.m. 
I disembarked  the last BCT bus after work. 
My job was Manager of a large call center that handled calls regarding customer service for a Fortune 300 company. 
My shift ran from second into third shift. 
I lived west of the downtown BCT terminal, giving me a clear shot west up Broward Blvd. to 14th St on the west side of the old , big Fort Lauderdale Police station.

My crib was on West Las Olas Blvd. and 13th street directly behind the old police station. The walk up Broward Blvd. was approximately 32 minutes. 
If I exited the # 9 bus at Sistrunk and N.W. 7th Avenue, I walked west up Sistrunk Blvd. to N.W. 12th. South on N.W. 12th to Central. 
Central to N.W. 14th. 
N.W. 14th south to Broward Blvd.
Cross Broward Blvd. Walk the remaining 6 blocks to my crib.

I disembarked the number 9 bus at the corner of N.W. 7th and Sistrunk. The N.E. entrance to 'The Sistrunk Hood'.

"Thanks Driver. Have a great rest of the evening".

"Sir. Do you have any idea where you are at?"

"Yes I do driver. Have a good evening. See you tomorrow."

"I certainly hope so Sir."

Sistrunk and N.W. 7th begins the walk into the Sistrunk Hood on the N.E. entrance side.

I encountered this very young business man 2 blocks in, south on 12th avenue.

"Nawwww Mannnn. You Party?"

"Yes young man . With Women".

"Ahhhh. Naw Mannnn. I gots 1980's Hard, Oxy, Tweeze, Percs."
 Myself and young man were eye to eye. Myself looking down at the Kid who was straddling his high bar 20 incher.

"Oh. You slinging drugs."
 At that the young man just stared, all wide eyed at me. I stared back for must what have felt like a half of a life time for this young man.
 
I broke silence. Finally.
"I ain't 'Poe'.
With that, the young Black Kid let out a sigh of releaf on the figurative side of a Kat 7 Miami Hurricane.

"What if I was 'Poe'?"

"I Gettin locked up".

"Then what."

"The Man Get me out."

"Oh. O.k. So now you owe the man piles for bail, today's product and product to sling the day that you get out."

"Yeah. So?"

"Remember when you were a shorty? You had dreams of being a Doctor, a Lawyer, an Astronaut, whatever?"

The fact that this Kid was still a 'Shorty', I was not going to address him as such for the simple fact that this Kid was out here from sun up to sun down working for 'the man' slinging drugs.
Carrying on possibly 10 generations of family drug slinging.
Any remembrance of childhood was less than a dark, desiccated experience.

"Yeah."

"Well because you are a Minority, there is a lot of money waiting for you to be whatever you want to be. Those dreams you had when you were a 'Shorty'."

"Mimority. What Mimority?"

"O.K.. What color is your skin?"

With pride the Kid answers, "Black".

"What country were you born in?"

A relative question because in the hood in S.E. Florida, Jamaicans and Haitians were battling for at that time, control of the always held American Black Hood's.
If pride was an immediate million bucks, this Kid was the undisputed champ.

"I'm 'Merican!"

"Cool. See young man, in this country there is Bukoo Stacks($) just waiting for you to fulfill your dreams that you had when you were a 'Shorty'. 
To do this will be the absolute hardest thing you have ever done. 
People will bring a lot of hate on you. 'The Man' will bring down hate on you too.
But if you decide that your dreams are what you want, go to the school, tell the teacher. Then just work your ass off and you will be rewarded."

"For real?"

"Damn right. It's all up to you my young American Friend."

"Wow. Thanks Man".

"Don't thank me. Thank yourself when you living the dreams you dreamt when you were a 'Shorty'.

With that the young man rode off. 

This type of occurrence was daily part of my Homeward mission every night. 
After all, this short cut through the Sistrunk Hood shaved a good 12 minutes off of my walk.

The most common response regarding my nitely preaching to these Kidz was;
"Yo Man. You Too Deep. What You want. I gotta go."

That first young man was maybe 1% of all the Kidz In Da Street I met over the next two years.
What real broke my heart was the 12 to 14 year old Prostitutes.
At a point I started buying my menthol cigarettes by the cartoon for the simple fact that once I was approached by these very young Hookers I would give them a small amount of money for the simple fact I would spot their Pimp down the way.
If he witnessed these Children, these Girlz walking up to me and not bringing something back, these Young Girlz were going to experience a beating or far worse.
It got to the point that I felt like the Piped Piper walking through Da Hood Every nite.

Hop in the car Ya All. I'm gonna take you on a short ride down Digression Freeway.

Regarding the perceived belief or non belief in this thang called; GOD.

Stephen W. Hawkins.

In his book titled "Brief History of Time and Space. Theorizing Black Holes"

I'll state that Stephen W. Hawkins at the time I read this book was probably one of the 10 most intelligent people on this planet.

To fully understand what Mr. Hawkins was in fact theorizing in this book, is that Mr. Hawkins is one of just a hand full of people on this planet that can actually take numbers to their infinite stage.
For sure no small feat.

Towards the middle of the book, Mr. Hawkins, in concluding his analyzed theory, regarding black holes. 
Mr. Hawkins stated that he had actually taken numbers to their 'Infinite Level' in deducing the very substance of Black Holes.

It was at that point, he could not take numbers any further.
He went on to state that he clearly, at this juncture, concluded, regarding his theory about Black Holes 
"It Has To Be God".
Summed it all up for me.

Oh Yeah.
Stephen W. Hawkins is a devote Atheist. 
Actually To The Max.

Regarding the 'Hit Da Bitch' campaign to hit the intrusive Ad's that Google places on this blog. 
Not To Worry.
Google has BANNED ALL and ANY Ad's on this blog. 
Thank God.
And No, they have not paid me for their intrusive invasion into Da Swamp for any of the ad's that Ya All have already hit..

I ain't gonna lie. 
I have, last week, hit the hell out of the ad's on my own.
Yeah. I know. 
Bad, Bad Me.
Now I am paying the cost of being The Bad Bad Corrupt Ad Clicking Boss.
My Bad. 
'Pologize' King Google.

As such, this blog is more or less done on Blogger.Google.Com.
Well, Cause Dey Told Me.
Seemingly begging for mercy at this time will be to no avail.

Not To Worry World.
I own the domain.;
ryanindaswamp.com.

To always find me, all Ya All have to do is a search by simply typing;
ryanindaswamp.
I take up pages, all from the very top of all search results.
Jus worked out dat way. 
Never did a thing in the world to promote this blog or
my WordPress Dot Com Blog.
Just happened that way. 

I am working with GoDaddy to start publishing on my own web page with the domain name I own.
There I will exhibit COOL AD'S.
For real. 
Don't hold your breath Ya All. 

Shout Out To;

Yo America
Yo Mexico
Yo Spain
Yo United Kingdom
Yo Germany
Yo France
Yo Netherlands
Yo Russia
Yo Poland
Yo Argentina
Yo Brazil

Ya All The Beautiful Best
God Bless Ya All
Thankx Guyz and Galz



Ryan. Out.


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Saturday, April 19, 2014




          Happy Easter   /   Good Pesakh

 



The Battle Between Good and Evil/Wicked Kicks Into High Gear.

Seemingly In The Public's Eye, Wicked Carries The Edge Onto The Field Of Battle.

What Was. Is Not.

For The Crucifixion and The Persecuted Are The Masks Of The Used To Be.

There Are Not Any More Cheeks To Turn.
For All The Cheeks Have Been Slapped Silly.

The FATHER Did Not Send HIS Only SON To Die For Ya All's Sin.
HE Sent HIS Only SON To Deliver THE MESSAGE To HIS Sheep.

For This Time When HE Comes, There Will Be NO Crucifixion.

For This Time MY LORD Will Be Riding A White Steed.
HIS Feet Will Be Of Brass.
HIS Eyes Will Be Of FIRE.
A Double Edge Gold Sword Of THE RIGHTEOUS  Is HIS Tongue.

My LORD Is Recruiting Warriors.
Warriors Who Will In No Way Except The Wicked.

As THE LORD Says;
"Let The Unjust Be The Unjust".
"Let The Filthy Be The Filthy".

Take Heed My Sisters and Brothers.

So I Have Been Told.

Jesus and John Were Walking For Hours In Silence.
At A Point, Jesus Looked At John and Exclaimed;
"Why Do The Dogs Keep Returning To Their Vomit"?

Why Do Ya All Keep Returning To Your Vomit?

For Final and For Ever My Sisters and Brothers Walk Quickly Away From Your Vomit As A Fly Speeds Away From The Cleansed.

The Time Has Come.

So I Have Been Told.

Jesus Walked Into A Temple Where Satan Was Spreading His Wicked Ways and Word.
Immediately Upon Noticing Jesus, Satan Appeared Right In Front Of My LORD and 
Exclaimed;
"You Have Come Here To DESTROY Me".

Never Did Jesus Mention To Satan That HE Was There To Throw Down With Satan.
Never Did Jesus Mention To Satan That HE Was There To Draw Down On Satan.
Satan's Exact Words Were;
"YOU Have Come Here To DESTROY ME".

'The Toxic Slime Rat' Knows Without A Doubt That His Time Is Now Short.
As Such he Releases Chaos, Filth, Death, Destruction, Hate, Division, Perversions, Deviant Behaviors and Confusion By The Stadium Full.
By The Second.

For You See World Even Satan Is Disgusted By His Own Minion.
The Morally Bankrupt.
The Full Of Sin.
The Wasted.
The Wicked.
The Perverse.
The Deviant.

For He Already Owns Their Polluted, Toxic Souls.

For It Is Me and Mine That Are The Ultimate Feather In Satan's Cap.
At This Wicked Takeover He Thumbs His Nose At THE LORD and 
Says;
'You See, They Are NO Better".

Pray For The 7TH Chastening My Sisters and Brothers.
Beg For Your Salvation.

Stop Your Pitiful Whining and Crying Regarding Your Selfish, Self Serving Prayers.
THE LORD Is Not At All Interested In Your Greedy, Wanting Ways.
HE CREATED You.
Trust Me HE Knows What Is Best For You.
HE Fully Knows Your Needs.
All HE Asks From You, HIS Creation Is Your LOVE.
Your PRAISE.

Tell HIM.
You LOVE HIM.
Tell HIM How You PRAISE HIM.

Scream Your Gratitude To HIM When A Butterfly Passes Before You.
When Dragonflies Escort You On Your Way.
When A Bird Flies Over Head Singing Their PRAISE and LOVE To Their CREATOR.
Give HIM LOVE PRAISE and GRATITUDE For The Safety Of Your Children, Your Parents, Your Entire Family.
You Job.
Your Safety.
The Love Between You And Your Woman.

For You See, THE LORDS Wild Animals, HIS Beautiful Creations NEVER Ask Their CREATOR For A Thing.
They Only Sing Their PRAISE To HIM, THE CREATOR.

Who Are You To Demand Anything From  
THE CREATOR OF EVERYTHING THAT
IS.
EVERYTHING THAT WAS AND EVERYTHING THAT WILL EVER BE.

WITHOUT A DOUBT THE MACK DADDY OF ALL MACK DADDY'S.

So I Have Been Told.

Jesus, In The Desert, Initiating HIS 40 Days and 40 NIGHTS Of Fast.
Out Of The Blue Appears Satan.
In Jesus' Face Satan Exclaims;
"See Those Sheep. They Are My Sheep. They Hear My Voice".
To Which Jesus Replied;
"Again Satan You Embarrass Yourself. Stand Behind ME. Those Are MY Sheep. They Hear MY
Voice. They Hear Only MY Voice. Go Down To The River and Attend To Your Beasts".
For That Is What MY LORD Refers To Swine As. "Satan's Beast".

One Fork Of Satan's Beast Into Your Mouth Opens The Gates Of Hell.

Isiah 65; 2-4

I SPREAD OUT MY HANDS ALL THE DAY TO A REBELLIOUS PEOPLE, WHO WALK IN A WAY THAT IS NOT GOOD, FOLLOWING THEIR OWN DEVICES; A PEOPLE WHO PROVOKE ME TO MY FACE CONTINUALLY, SACRIFICING IN GARDENS AND MAKING OFFERINGS ON BRICKS; WHO SIT IN TOMBS, AND SPEND THE NIGHT IN SECRET PLACES; WHO EAT PIGS FLESH AND BROTH OF TAINTED MEAT IS IN THEIR VESSELS.


THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS

LUST
ENVY
GREED
PRIDE
GLUTTONY
LAZINESS
WRATH

SIN IS SIN
WRONG IS WRONG

Repent
Repent

Or Continue To Live In Your Perverse Deviant Ways.

Daily
All Day
I Repeat Over and Over These Words To Myself;
"I Love You Jesus Christ. I Love You Lord"

So To Those Of You Who For A Lifetime Ask Me;
"Ryan. You Are Always At Peace. You Never Are Worried Or Concerned About Anything".

This Is For The Simple Fact That I Walk With MY LORD and Savior Jesus Christ and Constantly
Say To MY LORD;
"I Love You Jesus. I Love You LORD".

The Other Day Bobby and I Were Walking Back From The K.
Bobby Was Stressing Regarding The Immense Stress That His Position At Work Brings On To Him.
I Said;
Yo. Dawg. Say To Yourself Right Now, I Love You Jesus I Love You Lord.
Bobby Ran With That.
"Damn Ryan. I'm Happy".
Hmmm. It Can ONLY Be When Repeating Those Words.

I LOVE YOU JESUS. I LOVE YOU LORD.

Happy Easter
Good Pascech Ya All

Ryan. Out.


I'm That Sheep That Is Nudging My LORD
Constantly
I Never Liked Being Second



































































 































Friday, April 18, 2014

Ryanindaswamp / Man In Da Street


Sucked Into The Vortex Of Hell. Again.

 

Writing this blog today is akin.

On par.

To reaching for and securing my 23 inch Winchester Bowie Knife and Scraping my rectal cavity for 3 hours.

One would think that to completely stop, halt as it were, that I would adhere to the self imposed program of NOT Engaging Mr. Clicker and Hitting Up  FOX NEWZ  into the beginning of my second cup of heavenly Bustello with a multi berry green tea float.

But oh the fuck no.
For sure I am Masochistic on a level the Psychiatric community has not even deduced.

Thanks Fox Newz.

Where I am going is Do Not feature car people who have not a clue.

The 1967 Pontiac Firebird WAS NOT Pontiac's first venture into muscle cars.

Pontiacs venture into muscle cars began in 1962 with Pontiac's Catalina.
This Girl came out of the factory strutting 2 doors powered by Pontiac's 421 cubic inch motor.

Pontiac's Second Venture Into Muscle Cars Was My Very First Automobile A Brand New 1964 Pontiac GTO Coupe.

That car screamed.
To the point of literally having to STAND on the breaks to slow Betsey down.
Never to a full stop, instead a 45 foot drag up to the stop light.
Still standing on the kinda sorta power breaks.


1964 Pontiac GTO Coupe

If Anyone Finds These Particular Wheels Anywhere.
For Real Contact Me Here In Da Swamp.
I Got This Sexy Girl Sold For Major Bukoo.$$$$$$$$$$

I saved every dollar I made from  11 years old,  the time I started working for Mr. Levin who owned the around the corner newz paper stand in Da Hood.

Now if all that was not enough. Mr. Fox Newz, Car Not Expert.

Pontiac's first entrance into the muscle car arena was the  1962 Pontiac Catalina Hard Top Coupe.

This Nuclear Bomb came equipped with Pontiac's Super Duty 421 engine.
This Pedigree Princess kicked out, officially, claimed Pontiac, 405 BHP.
The real story regarding this Princess's rear heel blast was actually 460 BHP.

This Girl was Street Legal, but like any real Princess, Girl Race Ready with just four-bolt mains, forged rods and crank, solid lifters and NASCAR heads.
Screamin down the tarmac.

If all that was not enough The 1962, 1963, up until 1965 Catalina's equipped with the 421 Engine was the fastest show room production car.
On Da Planet all the way up into the early 1990's.
Fewer than 180 were built in their first year.
These Girlz were so fuckin, screamin fast that they would blow out Pontiac's Automatic Transmissions.
Hence forth these Monsters came equipped with either three or four speed manual transmissions

Other Super Duty options included aluminum front-end body clip and a weight-cutting modified frame.
These modifications saved 110 pounds.
Pontiac would even fit aluminum exhaust manifolds to save 40 more pounds, but warned that they were only intended for quarter mile competition as they would melt if they were subject to more heat.

Performance: 389/348: 0-60 in 8.2 seconds 1/4 mile in 15.5 seconds @ 93 mph.



1962 Pontiac Catalina 2 Door HardTop



I ain't gonna lie.
A 1967 Pontiac Firebird is no Sally Slack Ass.
Nice find for sure.
But absolutely NOT Pontiac's First Venture into the World of Muscle Cars.
Nice Try Fox Newz.
Vintage Sports and Race Cars has been my Bidnezz for... My Entire Life.

That's all He wrote.
For this week.
Maybe longer.

Thank Ya All My Insane Readers.
Cause Without Insanity Runnin Through Your Viens You Wouldn't Be Reading This Hyped Out Diatribe.

Lova Ya All.
Especially You Out There Holden Down The British Isle.
God Bless Your Beatiful Babies Girl.

Semper Fi.

Ryan. Out.


A short trip up and down into the Authors Grey Matter.
This journey Is Not For The Faint Of Heart.
Save The Judgmental Yak For Your Mamma.






ALBERT KING & STEVIE RAY VAUGHAN
"Born Under A Bad Sign"
(Booker T. Jones / William Bell)

One, two
Born under a bad sign
I been down since I begin to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all
Hard luck and trouble is my only friend
I been on my own ever since I was ten
Born under a bad sign
I been down since I begin to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all
I can't read, haven't learned how to write
My whole life has been one big fight
Born under a bad sign
I been down since I begin to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all
I ain't lyin'
If it wasn't for bad luck I wouldn't have no kind-a luck
If it wasn't for real bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all
Wine and women is all I crave
A big legged woman is gonna carry me to my grave
Born under a bad sign
I been down since I begin to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all
Yeah, my bad luck boy
Been havin' bad luck all of my days, yes

ALBERT KING & STEVIE RAY VAUGHAN videos - Born Under A Bad Sign




"Hit 'Em Up" lyrics

2PAC LYRICS

Play Song
"Hit 'Em Up"

[Tupac]
 

I ain't got no motherfucking friends
That's why I fucked your bitch
You fat motherfucker (Take Money)
West Side
Bad Boy Killers (Take Money)
You know who the realist is
niggas we bring it to (Take Money)
(ha ha, that's alright)

First off, fuck your bitch
And the clique you claim
West side when we ride
Come equipped with game
You claim to be a player
But I fucked your wife
We bust on Bad Boys
niggas fuck for Life
Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak
Hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia
Some mark ass bitches
We keep on coming
While we running for your jewels
Steady gunning
Keep on busting at them fools
You know the rules
Little Ceasar go ask you homie
How I'll leave you
Cut your young ass up
See you in pieces
Now be deceased
Little Kim,
Don't fuck around with real G's
Quick to snatch your ugly ass, off the streets
So fuck peace
I'll let them niggas know
It's on for Life
Don't let the west side
Ride the night (ha ha)
Bad Boys murdered on Wax and kill
fuck with me
And get your caps peeled
You know, see

[Chorus:]
Grab your glocks when you see 2pac
Call the cops when you see 2pac, uh
Who shot me,
But your punks didn't finish
Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace
nigga, I hit 'em up

Check this out
You motherfuckers know what time it is
I don't even know why I'm on this track
You all niggas ain't even on my level
I'm going to let my little homies
Ride on you
bitch made ass Bad Boys bitches
(ah yo, yo, hold the fuck up)

Get out the way yo
Get out the way yo
Biggie Smalls just got dropped
Little move pass the mac
And let me hit 'em in his back
Frank White needs to get spanked right
For setting traps
Little accident murderers
And I ain't never heard of you
Poisonous gats attack when I'm serving you
Spank the shank
Your whole style when I gank
Guard your rank
'cause I'm a slam your ass in a pang
Puffy weaker than a fuckin' block
I'm running through nigga
And I'm smoking Junior Mafia
In front of you nigga
With the ready power
Tucked in my Guess
Under my Eddie Bauer
Your clout petty sour
I push packages ever hour
I hit 'em up

[Chorus]

Peep how we do it
Keep it real
Its penitentiary steel
This ain't no freestyle battle
All you niggas getting killed
With your mouths open
Tryin' to come up off of me
You in the clouds hoping
Smoking dope
It's like a Sherm high
niggas think they learned to fly
But they burn motherfucker you deserve to die
Talking about you Getting Money
But it's funny to me
All you niggas living bummy
While you fucking with me?
I'm a self made Millionaire
Thug livin', out of prison
Pistols in the Air (Air) (Ha Ha)
Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch
And beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house
Now it's all about Versace
You copied my style
Five shots couldn't drop me
I took it and smiled
Now I'm back to set the record straight
With my A-K
I'm still the thug that you love to hate
Motherfucker I'll Hit 'Em Up

I'm from N E W Jers.
Where plenty of murder occurs
No points to come
We bring drama to all you herds
Now go check the scenario
Little Ceas'
I'll bring you fake G's to your knees
Coppin' pleas in de Janeiro
Little Kim is you
Coked up or doped up
Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up
What the fuck?
Is you stupid?
I take money,
crash and mash through Brooklyn
With my clique looting, shooting, and polluting your block
With fifteen shot,
Cocked glock to your knot
Outlaw Mafia clique moving up another notch
And your Pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped
And all your fake ass east coast props
Brainstormed and locked

You's a beat biter
Pac style taker
I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit but a faker
Soften than Alize with a chaser
'bout to get murdered for the paper
E.D. I mean post the scene of the caper
Like a loc, with little Ceas' in a choke (uh)
Toting smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke
Thug Life, niggas better be known
Be approaching
In the wide open, gun smoking
No need for hoping
It's a battle lost
I gottem crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off
nigga, I hit 'em up

Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run (ha ha)
They don't wanna see us
Whole Junior Mafia clique
Dressing up trying to be us
How the fuck they gonna be the Mob?
When we always on out job
We millionaire's
Killing ain't fair
But somebody got to do it

Oh yah Mobb Deep (uh)
You wanna fuck with us
You Little young ass motherfuckers
Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something
You're fucking with me, nigga?
You fuck around and catch a seizure or a heart-attack
You better back the fuck up
Before you get smacked the fuck up
This is how we do it on our side
Any of you niggas from New York that want to bring it,
Bring it.
But we ain't singing,
We bringing drama