Posted on by robinblipinski

Theory of Relativity

Written by: A hair follicle of Albert Einstein

“What time is it?” A question most likely ranked in the top ten questions asked daily. Time for dinner. Time for sex. Time for work, school, bank robbery. Time ranked as order of actions taken or needed. Is there a theory in this? Consider then the conspiracy or the fact that as you read this your heart pumped blood at least sixty times…and counting. Tick, tick, tick…

This story is about a hammer, an auction, and a mass murderer. After all, seems like the perfect time for it.

***

Reedsport Oregon. A small town located mid Oregon near the small village of Winchester Bay. Not much goes on in either community suffice to say the area no longer caters to loggers or hippies. It is more a retirement community for those waiting to die and being served by resources designed to give them comfort.

Time passed slowly in Reedsport. There were the usual activities such as filling a car with fuel or shopping for groceries. There was a grade school and high school where young adults played with their time trying to grow into their destinies. Mostly a normal place with one exception hidden from the normal world. The exception was named Frank. Frank Manlowski.

Frank was not old or young, he just was. What he was is a man who went on travels up the I-5 corridor to Portland Oregon and it was there he abducted drugged out homeless people. His choices of people were easy, he timed his abductions to fit the toxicity of the young/old, male/female. It was easy and nobody cared. No one noticed. Easy and it was time for his actions to be successful.

The drive from Portland to Reedsport was just as nice as going from Reedsport to Portland. The exception being that on the drive back home, Franks victims would regain consciousness and would either crap themselves from the drug reactions to the ether used, and for sure they would find the time to start asking Frank some very important questions.

“Who are you?” or “Where am I?” or “Where are we going?”

A lot of questions made in a car where Frank gave no reply. Not one reply. Not a peep.

Frank usually just sat there silently while his victim in the backseat babbled, cried, screamed. And for those of you interested in the minor details, Frank would become intensely sexually aroused.

Arriving back home, Frank clicked the garage door opener and once the door was open he drove into his world of conspiracy and the reality of torture/horror/murder… Can you start to see?

Frank had many techniques of killing and torture. Hundreds of bodies had been processed in this house of blood. Hundreds of people found their timing of death to be at the hands of a crazed killer.

And now, on the opposite side of the world in a country called, China, a metal hammer was finally being finished. Perfect timing you might ask? Well, before asking such a strange question remember this. Franks time frame was now, today, August 18th, 2026. The hammer being finished in China was also today, December 12th 1991. Strange? Not really, though necessary to show how such theories come to be.

After the hammer left the factory it traveled in a shipping container to a seaport in Alaska. Anchorage Alaska. And after the container was received by Home Depot the hammer was unloaded, placed in inventory in the store, sold to a lady named, Martha, and taken to her home to be used in her garage.

Martha enjoyed carpentry. She made picture frames and enjoyed using her new hammer, that is until she died, which was also today, March 14th, 1992.

Shortly after buying her hammer she died and her possessions were gathered and sold at auction by her son Frank who was born today, Nov 10th, 1981.

The auction was the usual auction. Material items of a world lost in time being sold just in time to those in timely need of such items. The hammer once owned by the Chinese, Martha, Frank, was now owned by a bush pilot named, Bill.

Bill bought the hammer along with some other tools at the auction. He placed the hammer in his job box that he used at his job. He owned his own plane and often times flew all around Alaska, Canada, and sometimes he went to California to visit his one of his best friends named, Butch.

Time.

Theory of relativity.

Gravity.

Conspiracy.

Fate.

Ticky tock, ticky tock…

Today, August 16th, 2026, Bill did his precheck on his Cessna 180. Everything looked great. He had already filed his flight plan with the FAA and with all said and done, he took off from Anchorage and headed South.

His first stop was Portland Oregon. After landing and clearing customs while making sure all the paperwork was done, he spent a relaxing night and then got a good nights sleep.

Today, August 18th, 2026, was also the same August 18th, 2026 that Frank was just finishing dismembering one of his hapless victims. While he was finishing cleaning up the mess and eating a sample of the victims now still heart, he actually started whistling a tune, while Bill received tower permission to use runway #4 and off Bill headed South towards his final destination in Petaluma California.

The weather today was wonderful. The fog hung close to the shoreline leaving the interior to be clear and bright blue.

The Cessna purred like a kitten as the plane headed parallel to the shore, it purred until it growled and then stuttered and then a ruptured fuel line ignited and then the plane spiraled out of control above a small town called, Reedsport.

Frank was still whistling and he had also finished cleaning up the mess and placing some trophies inside one of his many freezers. He was lighting up a cigarette outside when he heard an explosion above him. Looking up in awe he was just in time to see a small hammer, a hammer made in China, a hammer used with love in her heart Martha, a small hammer falling out of a small plane once owned by the now deceased Bill.

The hammer smashed Frank in the face and instantly killed the butcher who in the ensuing today’s would prove to be a very historical figure in the history of mass murders.

The End.

***

Theory of relativity.

Gravity.

Fate.

Destiny.

Do I believe in any of it? Maybe. Maybe not. However, I do believe it is good and with a snap of the fingers, can all change.

Posted on by robinblipinski

Lets examine experience.

I have been blessed with many abilities, reading being one of them. A little background. Growing up there was no television, no video games. Growing up there was school, work, and books. Thousands of books. Books written on every subject. Books of fiction and non fiction.

In my prime I could consume three books a day easy while still providing ‘time’ for sleep, work, school. Carrying a pile of books weighing 25 pounds or more every time visiting the library. What fun days.

Now why babble about what just glazes over the eyes of those already bored reading this? The reason is that in the consumption of millions of words it became easy to get into the minds of those authors writing the books. To feel the personal touch of both the author along with the editors and publishing houses.

Lately the obvious is now words written with the aid of A.I. or other computer related signatures. Yet, still the mind of the author comes through.

I no longer read a lot of books as when it comes to humanity, the collective mind has already been read, devoured, processed, and placed into permanent storage. It now is very rare for me to be ‘surprised’. There still remains the hope that some human somewhere will express something from their experience, their mind yet that outcome is very doubtful.

Poetry is the exception. Poetry surpasses anything A.I. can come up with. Poetry written by A.I. is as obvious as a rock falling off a cliff and smashing a hiker in the head, so does not count.

Poetry is the only literature, the only written thoughts by humans that are not only real; they surprise.

Now, the reason for writing this is to make a point of some sort or another. Currently enjoying a book written by Michael Drury. She wrote a wonderful book of which pleased the nerves in my mind. She obviously is well versed in writing and in presenting what is inside her mind. She is open, raw, talented, and also jaded, ignorant, and sad.

Michael’s way of presenting her thoughts are rare and refreshing. And in reading her work the experience gives rise to the thought, “Maybe there is hope for this world?” A thought soon dashed when reading chapter four titled, ‘The Other Side of Love’.

In chapter four it instantly became easy to see that while Michael is a very intelligent woman and that her approach to age and time is excellent, her thoughts of what love is, is to say the least, absolute bull shit.

So, what is love? For Michael love is something she has not truly known, which by my own statement is also bullshit. Every human has experienced love. Without exception, every-human-knows-and-experienced love. True love. Real love. Almost every human has rejected that love, instead embracing the illusion of hate the world smothers each and every human in..

I won’t spend much ‘time’ regarding how every human has experienced true love suffice to say, God knew each and every human before they were even born… God is nothing if not the face of the purest Love ever was/is/and will be. Of course, this is one reason why people forget they know love as many choose to forget God.

Okay. Getting back to Michael and love, she explains her opinion in a wonderful way of physical writing and a wonderful way of showing pure ignorance. For all her intelligence my dog Thor know what love is better then she ever will.

For all the intelligence being placed on the human experience it is absolutely amazing to see how one can love and yet condone the death penalty. How one says they love and yet hate that of which they love.

My sister has been married five times. The common thread was how much she ‘loved’ each husband and how soon that love turned into hate.

What is the point of this all? Well, the point is that love from God is easy and yet almost impossible for most to understand. (maybe because it is too simple for people to understand?) It is also that love from another is also easy and yet almost impossible for most to understand.

Some bullet points.

  1. Love is not hard, love is easier than breathing.
  2. Love is not evil. love is the fire and water is the hate wanting to extinguish the flame
  3. Love knows no time, no age, no bitterness…L-O-V-E is e-t-e-r-n-a-l. Eternal. Love is absolute.
  4. Love is not physical, hormonal, pheromones.
  5. Finally for the point of this exercise, love is not of this planet. It comes from nothing in this illusion you all embrace as a realty called, home. Love is a true gift from God, one meant to be shared by all.

Reading is wonderful. Writing is fun. Experience every ongoing. And stuffed jalapeno peppers with cream cheese, honey, and bacon are addictive.