Russell Twyce

Sex Sells, but Death Sells Even better You don’t believe that? Try looking up the sales statistics for tobacco products. The subliminal messages that cigarette companies put in are mostly of death but with just enough sex thrown in to throw off suspicion of what their really trying to say.

‘Smoke and die!” There is a good reason for that advertising ploy and it’s stated boldly in this post’s title. “Sex Sells, but Death Sells Even Better.”

“Hey!”  Someone might say. “Didn’t the anti-tobacco lobby fight hard to get those death messages?  Didn’t the tobacco protest each step of the way?”

What better way to get what you want entrenched than to make it appear that you’re being forced.  The tobacco companies had enough resources to fight the legislation if they REALLY wanted to.  Sex sells, but death sells even better.  Take a look at how many young people are smoking.  The death messages have done the work they were intended for: to sell cigarettes.

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“People are afraid of death: How could death sell products?” I don’t really dwell on that subject on this blog.  A better place to look to understand death better would be deathpro.com.  But I will explain the concept of using death for marketing purposes.

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A very short truth or fiction story by Russell Twyce

“My government,” the left-wing political candidate, in a fictional land where truth in advertising laws had been expanded to include politics, shouted into a microphone, “will tax you unmercifully and hand your hard-earned money over to our campaign friends. We will enact some new legislation geared at further complicating average people’s lives with bureaucratic nonsense, but which will open up vast new revenue streams for lawyers.  I solemnly promise that I will engage in costly boondoggles for no purpose but my own enjoyment. During my time in power, I’ll attempt to seduce as many young political interns into my bed as possible.”

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The speech then droned on longer to outline more of the excesses and unacceptable behavior that we all strongly suspect is truly happening in the high seats of power. And then he passed the podium to his worthy opponent.[Content protected for Chevron members only]

Am I Truth or Fiction
This is a fiction story of a psychopath demonstrating his version of truth.

Am I truth or fiction? by Russell Twyce

“Is your search for stories aimed at truth or fiction today?” A prisoner asked while his shackles were being locked to the prison psychiatrist’s interviewing couch.

“I seek truth,” the doctor said while watching the guard leave, “but all you seem to offer is your fiction. I’m hoping today might be different.”

“You should call the guard back because my truth will still be true, but as it doesn’t mesh with the crap a university crammed into your skull, you will again see it as fiction.”

“That ‘crap’,” The psychiatrist scoffed, “as you refer to it, was developed after years of clinical studies, and by some of the world’s brightest minds.”

“But is an externally rendered depiction of a psychopathic mind set, as offered by a genius, more intrinsically accurate than the view of a psychopath, of above average intelligence, telling of the inner workings of his own mind?”

“The phrase ‘clinical studies’ does imply that psychopaths were indeed interviewed.”

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“Yet another psychopath would interpret what was said differently than a shrink does, just as you routinely refuse to hear any truth I say as anything but fiction. I suppose that if you can manage to somehow cram your misunderstood conception of my mind into one of your utterly false but university accepted but boxes, then you’ll publish your own ‘clinical case studies’ of me and proclaim your brilliance.”

“Perhaps you could employ the time of your multiple life sentences to take correspondence courses toward a degree in psychiatry. Then you’ll have the accreditation to write your own views.” The psychiatrist settled his ample butt into his swiveling and reclining chair. “Your raw intellect is as strong as many of the students I graduated with.”

“I couldn’t pass the exams to gain a degree.” The convicted killer said flatly. “My answers to questions would differ from those the professors believe are correct.”

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“Can you tell me how your beliefs and logic differ from mine?”

“Certainly,” the sociopath smiled enigmatically, “but afterward, I’ll have to kill you.”

“I watched the guard secure your chains,” the psychiatrist chuckled: likelihood of his being harmed was remote, “so I’ll take my chances.”

“A psychopath’s logic differs from yours in that his is true and yours is bullshit. He is without doubts because Aristotle’s logic only allows truth with no other option. The Sophist diatribe that you accept as logic is always false because it’s rooted on untrue base precepts and this waffling version of reasoning allows for either yes or no, depending on which you want to result. Consequently, you’ll never achieve the level of certainty that a sociopath has.”

“One that allows you to make arbitrary life or death decisions for your victims.”

“Indubitably.”

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“I told you I’d have to kill you afterward.” He calmly said to the corpse. “Not to keep my words a secret, but to attach a life or death impact to them.”

The end.

The purpose of this short story is NOT to glorify psychopaths: my objective is to show that understanding why a psychopath kills is the only way to stop them from killing.  There are A LOT more potential killers in our society than you realize!  Everyone who speeds, runs red lights, experiences road rage or just road annoyance is a budding psychopath that just has not been pushed to murder – YET.

An alien is on trial for sedition  -  Short Story by Russell Twyce

“My words and actions in this courthouse,” a man acting as his own defense council said to the jury in his opening statement, “will be what they are. You’ll view what I say as sedition if you will. But to me, this trial is an opportunity to share my truth. I suppose that I’m really signing my own death warrant. By a paradox, your finding me not guilty would be absolute evidence of my guilt because convincing you of my innocence can only be accomplished by my committing further sedition in front of you.”

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Then the accused turned sharply on the heel of his wheelie sneaker, and glided on back to his seat. “I’m done,” he said to the prosecutor.

“The young man who stands accused,” the government lawyer orated in his turn, “has brought this all on himself.” He went on to describe the alien’s actions of going into a police station and confessing his crime. “Neither the police nor the district attorney’s office had any option but to bring this charge, because he was continuing to commit sedition in both the police station and in all interviews with him since.”

“Calling the accused as a prosecution witness is highly irregular,” the judge stated for the record: his main concern wasn’t for how injurious the defendant’s testimony might be to his own case, but rather in preventing an appeal from besmirching his judicial reputation, “but as the defendant has suggested it, I’ll allow it.”

“You’re an alien.” The prosecutor began. “Why would you choose to practice your sedition here, in a state that isn’t your own and which employs the death penalty?”

[Content protected for Chevron members only] Opinions I state are of what I see truly existing in this material world and your mind’s eye interprets my words as being a fiesta stick aimed at damaging your fictional papier-mâché treasure trove.”

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“Which like Pandora’s box,” the judge retorted, “would spill evils into the world.”

“It would disgorge the true freedom that is our human birthright and which your delusion of statehood, rooted on your lust for power, has stolen from us.” The youth smiled. “But my absolute liberty can’t actually be taken away, so I’ve taken it back.”

“Yet you’re here in custody,” his honor stressed the ‘in custody’, “and awaiting the decision of this authority on whether you will live or die.”

“And I arrived here of my own free accord,” the accused quipped back, “while fully cognizant of all the potential outcomes.”

“Uh.” The prosecuting attorney had been biding his time. He hadn’t wanted to interrupt the judge. “You haven’t answered my questions yet. Why here? You’ve placed yourself in a life or death situation because sedition is still punishable here, by death.”

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“But slavery to the rule-of-law isn’t the only way to address those issues.” The man in the witness box stated emphatically. “In fact, rooting a real need for public order keeping on a series of unreal tenets is the worst possible method. It causes some crimes to be committed, exacerbates others and contributes to the motivation of all crimes. I’ve come into this court charged with sedition for inciting people to rebel against an authority that is guilty of heinous crimes against humanity.”

“Crimes against humanity!” The judge’s face went blood red as he ejaculated.

“But the court holds itself as immune from prosecution for the wrongs it commits so I’ve brought the matter before the bench by an alternate route,” the young accused spoke directly to the jury box, “in having myself put on trial for sedition against the state’s law.”

“Will you enlighten us,” the state’s prosecuting lawyer inquired: [Content protected for Chevron members only]

“You’ll now be sequestered, until you’ve reached a decision.” The judge growled and with a glance at the defendant’s satisfied expression, he knew that the verdict of no importance. The alien had already achieved the victory he’d sought and in fact, a guilty verdict and his death at the hands of the state would gain his ideas even more exposure. In either eventuality, his precious court was defamed by the soon to be condemned man’s last question. ‘Is my death necessary to muzzle a philosophy that you don’t want to see explored?’

Readers, you’re the jury. Please voice your verdict in a comment. A life is in your balance.