Dark Carnivals, Dreams, and the Mystery of Morton

Ten years… a goddamn decade. That’s how long it’s been.

As I drove the long road home from the Gathering of the Juggalos in 2012—bumping the brand new Mighty Death Pop album—I imagined what might change in my life before I returned.

I couldn’t have guessed the extent of it then, or how long the stretch of time would be. Much has changed in my life and the world at large in the last ten years, but fortunately, at least one constant yet remains.

Each summer, thousands of Juggalos from around the world gather in one spot for the biggest independent music festival and family gathering in the world. This year, it happens at the start of August, and is hailed as ‘The Gathering of Dreams’.

The name isn’t chosen solely to celebrate my return—although the assumption is understandable—this year the acts and events were all themed around the wildest dream of the Juggalos and the organizers alike.

It’s a return, a celebration, and to steal a line from a wildly different band, a sort of homecoming. With all the uncertainty and instability in the world of late, a return to the gathering is just the ticket to create some semblance of sense again for this and many other Juggalos.

The Gathering is a time to forget about the rest of the world, and revel in the company of like-minded lunatics, where the mundanity of life and the weight of daily norms are cast to the wayside for a party involving friends, family, wild musical acts, carnival rides, and so much more.

This year, the emphasis is on the more. As one of the dreams of Psychopathic Don Jumpsteady, there will be a very special session to discuss some of the most ancient and guarded secrets of the infamous game, Morton’s List.

For those unfamiliar, Morton’s List is a Random Reality game heralded as the ‘End to Boredom’, and does much to live up to this bold claim. Tasking players with completing real-life quests limited only by their imaginations, Morton’s List is the only game ever to be banned from Gen Con, one of the largest toy and game trade shows in the United States.

This year’s seminar couldn’t come with more karmic hype. Original creators Jumpsteady, Ninja Nate, and R. Jesse Deneaux will be coming together to share their memories, reveal key details about development, and answer the age-old question and potential quest—who is Morton? Juggalos have been wondering about this since the games release back at the second annual Gathering in Toledo, in 2001.

Ninja Nate explains the event: “Twenty-eight years after beginning the Morton’s List project, we three authors are coming together to not only share the long-held secret of the origins of the game’s name, but also to reveal wig flipping information we weren’t aware of until last year. Plus, more revelations of the future of reality gaming!”

Like many, it’s not only the specifics of the seminars, but the overwhelmingly positive atmosphere of the Gathering that has Nate excited: “I’m most looking forward to being in the same tent with so many Morton’s List players and supporters. The Karma and good vibes of all you creative, adventurous ninjas is gonna be thick as bricks!”

There’s no doubt about that. To learn these key secrets and discuss Morton’s List with fellow enthusiasts, be sure to be at the Morton’s List Seminar. Tickets to the Gathering are still available Here.

Also, be sure to check out other games by the creators of Morton’s List, including The Quest for Shangri-La, Stranger Tales, and Druglord.

Even beyond that event, this years Gathering will be a veritable smorgasbord of entrainment. Musical acts include Mushroomhead, KRS-One, Onyx, Sir Mix-A-Lot, Slick Rick, Steel Panther, Mike E. Clark, Esham, and countless others.

Of course, the Wicked Clowns themselves—ICP—will be playing not one, but two sets. They’ll be the headlining act on the final night, and will also perform a ‘Super Mix Juggalo Juke Box Show’ featuring rare and never-before-played-live songs. This one will doubtless be a special draw for many seasoned Juggalos.

If music isn’t your thing, there’s an endless supply of alternative activities running all throughout the day and well into the night. Haunted Houses, Carnival Rides, Sideshows, countless Juggalo vendors selling rare or customized merch, the return of Big Silva (if you know you know), a seminar with the infamous Bigfoot researcher Todd Standing, and the annual ICP Seminar—often likened to a yearly Juggalo state of the union address.

Of course, even when the events stop, the Gathering never sleeps. It’s the Juggalos themselves who are the main event, and they keep it going all night long.

It’s certain to be the event of a lifetime, and there’s not a Juggalo I’ve spoken to that isn’t counting the days.

The Gathering of Dreams runs from August 3-6, 2022. Click here to get your tickets.

I’ll be on the scene as early as possible, taking it all in, living the dream, and rejoicing amongst the Juggalo Family. Check back here afterward for a full report.

Until then, stay down with the clown.

MCL,

-Brad OH Inc.

(Schisobe)

The Curse of the Uncouth

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

Green DesklampAs the pandemic passes all too swiftly into memory and businesses start to run at full capacity once more, there are many long-lost amenities to appreciate with fresh eyes. Open air markets, dusty record stores, convenient shopping experiences, dine-in restaurants, and of course, the beloved local bar.

Returning to a closer approximation to normal at the local watering hole is a welcome relief to the cultured barfly—and the uncultured one to boot. In this wave of excitement however, there has long lingered an unspoken fear—perhaps the final curse of the dreaded Covid virus.

After more than two years of closed or limited bar service, this return to normal will debut not one, but almost three years worth of first timers to a busy bar scene. The Uncouth—they will have no experience to guide them, and no friends near in age to teach them. A stretch of clueless newbies from eighteen to twenty (CDN) will be plowing their way through crowded bar fronts, bumping into tray-laden servers, and forming lines where absolutely no line is needed.

Cologne-covered and cocky, they’ll stand with their backs pressing against the chair behind them, unheeding the discomfort of the sitting person who would much rather just be left alone.

Like spooked buffalo (or bison, for you locals) they’ll trample wild-eyed over the accumulated goodwill of crusty drunkards everywhere. Whining their way to the front of lines. Scrounging for cigarettes on the ground. Or worse yet, stealing quick hits from vape cartridges, leaving the discarded cigarettes to pile up on the ground unchecked. They’ll throw the whole damned eco-system off kilter!

They’ll request all the wrong songs, and dance far from the designated dance-floor. They’ll sing Top 40 lyrics in your general direction, and expect you to respond with enthusiasm!

This is the final sting, the lasting poison of a sickness which has already asked far too much.

Or maybe they’ll turn out ok.

Shit, I’m probably just getting old.

-Brad OH Inc.

Re-Share: A Fool Not Just in April

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

Green Desklamp

This may seem like it’s coming a month late, but the truth is, this was never about April Fools…


There’s a funny thing that happens right around this time of year. On the first of April each year, we observe a weird little day called ‘April Fools’’. This glorious day is a long-time favourite for pranksters and mischief-makers the world over—as jokes are played, tricks enacted, and terrible deceptions perpetrated by one friend upon another all in the righteous pursuit of naming another as a fool.

The possibilities are endless! Saran-wrap over the toilet seat? Check! Sardine Paste in the toothpaste tube? Check! Brutal lies about the health or general well-being of distant loved-ones? Yeah, even that might pass. But recently, one phenomenon has illustrated an especially troublesome habit of humanity—and shown us perhaps that the day of fools is a boon for the few wise people among us.

See, one irresistible opportunity for news pundits and bloggers alike is to post semi-believable yet entirely unreal stories for public consumption on April Fools’ Day. The writer will let the speculation and doubts run roughshod until noon, then coolly—and doubtless with an air of overplayed coyness—reveal the truth: namely, that it was all a ruse.

This all seems harmless enough. The thing is, it’s been going on for a significant enough stretch of time that anyone with half a clue and access to the internet for more than a year knows just what to expect, and rises each April 1st donning the armour of suspicion, and brandishing their sword of rational-inquiry. Each article they see is taken in with a discerning eye. Facts are weighed against probabilities, and anything doubtful is cross-referenced against other articles.

Dates are checked, names researched, local obituaries are pored over for accuracy, and for one day, all sources of information are taken in with a critical eye, hell-bent on sussing out the truth from the trash.

All things considered, it’s a pretty wonderful day!

But then something unfortunate happens. The sun rises on the second of April, the bathroom floors are disinfected, toothpaste tubes replaced, and loved ones are given a brief check-in call with a pre-arranged excuse to hang up after a few minutes small-talk. Then, everything returns to normal. People eat their breakfast, kiss their spouses and children, go to their jobs, and then sit slack-jawed and dumb-founded at the torrents of bullshit flashing across their screens in the name of ‘news’.

‘You won’t believe what…’

‘What happened next will leave you speechless…’

‘Local mom makes $900,000,000 in one hour, when you learn how you’ll…’

‘THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING!!!’

They sit with eyes glazed over as they work their fingers along their mouse, taking it all in, following the currents of their newsfeed like Job waiting on fairer winds. It’s all accepted, all welcome, and none of it is ever second-guessed.

It’s a sorry fact that when not actively warned by our calendars that the news just might not be as accurate as it’s purported to be, people forget the concept entirely. But rational thought is not a novelty to be toyed with once a year, only to be dusted off and returned in mint-condition to its little glass case marked ‘Open April 1st’. Rather, it is a tool to utilize daily, to ward off the perils of misinformation—deliberate or not—and exercise the full potential of our humanity. As rational creatures living in an often irrational world, the onus of critical consideration of news media is on us as consumers. It is a matter of education, of self-protection, and more importantly, of intellectual integrity.

So let us not forget, good people, that there may be but one day a year where we are free to name each other as fools, but that leaves 364 days each year where the names do not fly so readily, and we are left simply with an opportunity to prove the fact for ourselves.

-Brad OH Inc.

Wicked Juggalo Podtrash

As the more astute among you may have figured out, ‘The Gentleman Juggalo’s’ hiatus is seeming mighty permanent these days, but that doesn’t mean that Brad OH Inc. is out of the Podcast game completely.

Not by a longshot.

In fact, my recent appearance on the amazing ‘BoomBastiCAST’ Podcast has led to the creation of a new show with my friends Mathew and Kandis at ‘Wicked Juggalo Podtrash’. Connecting virtually, the three of us come from far away locations and different eras in ICP’s long and storied history. I think this adds a unique spectrum of voices and opinions as we discuss recent Juggalo releases, news, and whatever the fuck else happens to come up.

It’s been a blast recording it so far, and I hope that my readers, new Juggalos, and other curious parties enjoy it as much as I have.

Check us out here for all the latest Podcast drops and other news.

MCL,

-Brad OH Inc.

(Schisobe)

Lost in the Lands Between

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

Green DesklampSpoiler Warning: This review is light on spoilers, but is written after 100+ hours in Elden Ring, and will contain some mild spoilers on events, locations, and/ or boss names or details.

I chose the wretch. Of course I did.  It’s been my preferred route since I started playing From Software’s ‘Souls series’ back in 2009 with the mind-blowing and spirit crushing Demon’s Souls, and one that I was even more excited to set forth on in 2022’s Elden Ring.

Hyped up as the culmination of the 13-year road between Demon’s Souls and now, Elden Ring promised to take the ground-breaking and genre defining combat and level design the series was known for, and bring it into a truly open-world format.

The claim was a bold one. Changing the formula from tightly designed, primarily linear albeit Metroidvania-esque perfection of Miyazaki’s masterpieces into a sprawling open world meant risking the design aesthetic and ubiquitous attention to detail that was so important to the franchise.

As a long-time devotee of the series, I knew that it was my solemn duty to try it out, and report back to you—my dear readers—on how Elden Ring pulled off this momentous task.

I wish that duty wasn’t mine.

I wish I had no duties.

To be honest, I just wish I was playing Elden Ring.

Right now.

Always.

As my miserable, naked wretch—named Baurgon the Lost—heaved open the massive stone door to the cavern he’d bludgeoned his way through, and stepped out into the brilliant landscape of the Lands Between, I could already tell that From Software had pulled it off.

Those crazy sons of bitches. They really did it!

And how!

As the grandeur of the physical geography held me in awe, my gaze settled upon one distant object, then the next. I knew I would be to each of them soon enough. It was—ironically enough—the lands in between these mesmerizing landmarks that really sucked me in. The forests I’d need to navigate, the mountains in the way. The huge golden knight riding across the path in front of me.

I shouldn’t have challenged him so soon. Lesson learned.

Wherever I looked, there was something amazing I wanted to do. Sometimes, I’d pick some distant object and try to hurry over to see it. Inevitably, hours would pass as I followed one lead and another, constantly tempted off my path by the overwhelming richness of the environment around me.

When I’d finally got my bearings and began to gain some semblance of confidence, I found myself exploring a cave just south of my starting location. No longer naked and equipped with a club, I now had a sword, and a fine pair of boots. With my skill with the series, I was certain nothing could stop me. I carved through bandits, out-maneuvered savage dogs, and slew several hideous monsters as I fought deeper into the ruins.

Finally, I stood before the object I hadn’t even known I was seeking—a glowing treasure chest at the bottom of these ruins I’d randomly encountered and sworn to best.

I’d been playing these games for 13 years after all, and I was no rank amateur.

When, therefore, a blue-grey mist seeped out of the chest as I cracked it, quickly transporting me to what by all appearances may have actually been hell, I should not have been surprised.

I fought my way out of a crystal mine guarded by magic-wielding golems, then sped across a lake of what could only be blood as pterodactyl-dogs chased me past dilapidated castles, glowing caves, sleeping dragons, and impassable peaks.

By the time I’d made it back to the starting location, I was no longer the fresh-eyed scamp who had set out from those heavy stone gates hours before. I was weathered, beaten, and hungry.

Hungry not for any sustenance found beyond. No, my appetite could only be whet by diving deeper into the incredible world of Elden Ring.

And I have gorged.

Since those early days, I’ve traversed all the sprawling lands I’d seen that day, and trawled the depths of every great ruin and castle. Beyond them, I have found more sights unimagined and unlooked for. Some were beautiful, others shocking. All were terrifying in their own ways.

I’ve felled the Fell Omen, slew the Queen of the moon, and joined a tournament to take down the great war General Radahn, known as the Starscourge. I’ve watched allies fall as I continued on.

I met a particularly nasty mage in a tower, and spent the next several days honing my character into the blade that would be his undoing.

At this, I was successful.

I have experienced magnificent triumphs, and heart-breaking failures. I have won battles that I’ve wished I’d never started, and watched the consequences—ever subtle—play out before my weary eyes.

I don’t know how far in I am, or how much is left. It’s about how far I’ve come—and how far the gaming industry has come, at least in some areas.

Already, I have my next few builds picked out, and can hardly imagine what could pull me away from Elden Ring. It is an emphatic victory for the comparably small From Software, and a rude wakeup call to so many of the AAA Studios pushing out unfinished, uninspired crap with pay-to-win design and missing features.

It’s the same message Elden Ring sends to its players—do better, and learn from your mistakes… or get left behind.

-Brad OH Inc.

A Flag in Peril

I’m driving along an asphalt road, lousy with potholes. It doesn’t matter where I’m going. In Alberta, most destinations are similar enough. It’s not the sites on the side of the road, or the gloomy clouds ahead that get my attention—it’s the flag on the truck blowing by me.

For most of my life, the red bars and maple leaf of the Canadian flag has held a uniform meaning to most anyone likely to encounter it. It stood for pride, equality, and promise. Not the ill-defined promise of freedom so often associated with the stars and bars, but a more grounded, introspective promise that assured us we were working together, and supporting one another. Certainly, the country has never been perfect, but for a long while, it felt like we were on the same path—one helping the other down it as required.

That’s all in the past now. As the flag—torn and weather worn—flutters by above a brand new, lifted pickup truck, a new set of feelings arise in my heart. Where before there may have been pride, now there is resentment, judgement, and anger.

…The flag has been co-opted, and it’s meaning is no longer consistent.

In late January, 2022, the country witnessed an unparalleled level of unrest and division. Dubbing itself the ‘Freedom Convoy’, a sizeable group of Canadians jumped into their over-sized, high-end vehicles in an effort to show the world how hard-done-by they were.

While it may be understandable for people to tire of mandates, and few could argue against the notion that civil protest is a fundamental right to any free society, the convoy quickly took a turn for the worse when it reached Ottawa, and other Canadian cities.

Fed by misinformation and fuelled by paranoia, their demands became more and more outrageous, and their behaviour followed suit. While the more reasonable members of the protest focussed on lifting mandates and returning to ‘normal’, extremist elements sought to impose their will on the country through any means necessary.

The stated intentions of the convoy ranged from an end to vaccine mandates for truckers crossing the border—a policy reflected by the country sharing said border—to an end to all mandates, to the surrender of the government and the instatement of their own appointed officials. These latter intentions were outlined in a shocking manifesto delivered—and later retracted by—convoy leaders. For more information on that, see Here, and Here.

Soon enough, it was a protest no longer. The capital city of Canada was experiencing a full-on occupation. With trucks blocking major through-ways, protesters used horns to torture the residents of Ottawa day and night, for three weeks straight. They hurled insults at anyone wearing a mask, defaced public property, and damaged businesses who didn’t immediately cave to their wildly varied demands.

While provincial police and politicians sat on their hands—likely trying to decide which response was most likely to curry them the greatest favor from voters—innocent people living in cities across Canada grew increasingly incensed at the notion that this small minority could run roughshod over the fabric of society, and seemingly get away with it.

When Prime Minister Trudeau activated emergency powers to end the occupation, the country held its collective breath. Supporters of the convoy railed against perceived tyranny, while victims of the convoy cried for delivery from the occupiers. Everyone feared the precedent set, and the potential damage to our international reputation if the powers were misused.

To the shock of very few, the occupiers caved quickly when faced with actual consequences for what may have been the first time in their lives. Despite the hysteria, the application of the emergency powers was well-restrained. It specifically targeted the funding of occupation leaders, aiming to end their supply chain. In ongoing investigations that have surprised absolutely no one, it has been revealed that the majority of this funding came from foreign sources.

Police seized vehicles only after several written warnings, and convoy leaders who refused to move on were arrested. Once the crisis was over and the people of Ottawa were again secure to live their lives, the powers were promptly rescinded. While by all accounts this use of emergency powers was limited and practical, the country remains on edge.

To some, the occupation was a legitimate expression of discontent—the culmination of frustrations with COVID-19 mandates that were shared by most everyone. To the majority however, its execution was like the colicky wailings of a dying sense of masculinity—an entitlement so deeply rooted that harassing others and forcing your minority view on a nation seemed like justice.

Now the nation watches as the Right Wing of provincial politics seeks to gut our Universal Healthcare—claiming it had failed to get the nation through the pandemic. They miss the irony of course, as they were the very ones dodging public health efforts, and under-funding it at every turn. If the passengers of the Titanic had cheered on the iceberg, haranguing that ‘at least it’s not the one sinking’, the level of cognitive-dissonance could scarcely be greater.

Things have quieted down now. At least, that’s the case if you can ignore the desperate posts of those still married to their own victim-complexes.

The streets are quiet, and traffic can move again. The COVID mandates are lifting—as they were set to all along.

In the end, this occupation’s only real impact was likely the damage it did to the comfort and contentment of many Canadians. No minds were changed, and no policies were impacted to any significant degree.

Still, as the flag trails off into the distance in my rear-view mirror, I can’t ignore the adverse feeling in my gut. It’s been degraded, and I wonder what the rest of the world sees these days when the Canadian flag waves.

There’s another flag in windows these days. The Blue and Yellow of the Ukrainian standard flies high and proud around my city—supporting those fighting against real oppression, and facing legitimate danger.

It stirs something inside of me. A memory of a time not too long ago, yet far too distant. It was a time when people remembered that a society means that we are in this together—and that only by embracing that can we ever affect lasting change.

I hope that soon, our nation can remember that, and our flag can once more fly so high.

-Brad OH Inc.

Brad OH Inc. Signs Publishing Contract for ‘Meaning Less’

Today, I am thrilled to announce that on Monday, February 21st, I signed a contract to publish my next novel, ‘Meaning Less’ with Sands Press.

I will be very busy in the next few months working on cover design, editing, and promotional considerations, and we expect the novel to release–in Paperback and E-book formats–worldwide in the Spring of 2023.

Stay tuned right here for more information! We look forward to sharing this journey with all of you.

‘Meaning Less’

Languishing in a dystopian corporate hell-scape, Jeffrey Boggs struggles to find meaning in a world that’s left him behind. His apartment is empty, his future is grim, and each day working in the terrible black tower of SALIGIA Inc. plays out like an ill-humoured assault on what scarce dignity remains to him.

As the brief summer begins to fade into a bitter Edmonton winter, Jeff is haunted by memories of better times long behind him. Desperate to find a purpose in life, he turns to his new co-worker, Janice, hoping to use what he’s taken years to learn to help her cope with the degrading daily grind at SALIGIA.

Time and again however, Jeff fails to find what he needs. His colleagues compete for favor, his supervisors conspire to get him fired, and Jeff plots to find a way out on his own terms.

When a gathering snow storm promises to end the brief reprieve of summer, Jeff makes a final play for control in his life. But there’s no secret meaning to life beyond living with meaning, and as he chases it in all the wrong places, each day begins to mean a little less…

Cheers,

-Brad OH Inc.

Re-Share: Libertarians are Starry-Eyed Idealists

Over the past week, Canada has watched as a minority group has terrorized cities and blocked critical infrastructure. They have demanded special freedoms, while denying freedom to those that live there.

It’s a sad situation all around, and has reminded me of a confusion I still come across all too often. When people talk about freedom, they often focus only on their own insular view of freedom, and seldom the freedoms of society at large.

Call it the ‘Inverted Wallace Equation’: The louder someone screams about freedom, the less likely they are to be standing on its side.

The article below–a re-share from 2016–covers this issue in greater depth.

What do you think?

*********************************************************************************

Freedom is often lauded as the most integral value of any developed nation. In fact, the notion of the ‘free world’ does much to inform us of the fundamental value that we place on personal liberty, and well it should. Freedom is among the key human rights, but it must be pointed out that at times, people get a little bit carried away with their interpretation of what exactly ‘freedom’ entails.

One need not wade too far into the depths of social-media to find the rants and raves of disenfranchised citizens so bitter about a parking ticket, or a sales-tax, or perhaps a pesky ‘no-loitering’ sign, that they’re ready to hoist the black flags and hop aboard the good ship ‘Anarchy’.

‘Freedom’, they will argue, is the birthright of man—the inalienable and righteous destiny of all people brave enough to seek it! But there are sorry few building their own boats to follow this urge, and fewer still running off to the lonely mountains to live a ‘free’ life. I suppose it’s an easy thing to moan about the comfortable confines of society as you daydream about weening yourself off its teat, but it does beg the question of what exactly true ‘freedom’ is, and if it can exist at all.

I would argue that perfect freedom is an illusion—a starry-eyed dream more befitting whatever afterlife you prefer than the life you live. In fact, I believe that power and control are unavoidable, and there is no conceivable ‘system of naught’ sufficient to maintain the vacuous void left if all authority is stripped away.

Perfect freedom would mean no laws, no control, no taxes—but it would accordingly mean no safety, no opportunity, and no infrastructure. In our article ‘On the Concept of Society’ (Link) we discussed how a society is the product of all its members, past and present. That remains entirely true. Society has never been about freedom—if anything that is the antithesis of society. In truth, ‘society’ is meant to be a foundation of cooperation among its citizens.

In the societal sense then, total freedom—much like anarchy—is a myth. It may perhaps exist for a single person, but once a second person enters the picture, the illusion will die. Power hierarchies will be formed, and one’s wishes will ultimately infringe upon the freedom of the other. We are not free to kill for the very reason that we do not wish to be freely killed. The same applies to property rights, safety issues, and so on. While loitering laws may perhaps be a hard concept to defend (Black Flags ahoy!), the need for a significant proportion of civil laws can be most easily discerned by asking oneself not ‘do I wish to follow this’ but ‘do I wish for others to follow this’.

Those who support total anarchy then, are either misunderstanding the basic tenets of life, suffering from a sadomasochistic urge to regress back to the days of pre-tribal man, or simply mad.

Libertarians, on the other hand, may accept some laws, while rejecting the notion of many others. This rejection most often applies to rules around the free-market. However, as we have already established that a power-void cannot remain unfilled, we should have little trouble applying this observation to the marketplace as well.

If you wander into the woods, claim them as your own, and insist on living a lawless life, it may prove less glamourous than you imagine—especially when the next lawless rogue shows up to strangle you in your sleep and make off with your supplies. So much for freedom!

The marketplace is little different. Without control, corporations are wont to seize public goods and resources, create monopolies, underpay workers, and wreak general havoc however they please. People will starve, or toil like slaves—yet this will be defended and redefined as the justly exercised freedom of those very corporations. In truth, this notion of marketplace-freedom is no better than economic anarchy—and its supposed virtue quickly diminishes as the strongest take control and run our system like a tyrannical oligarchy. Meanwhile, the citizens cheer blindly about the merits of freedom.

To claim to be an anarchist or full-on libertarian is naïve, and the ultimate result is little different from the sort of systemic madness we have now. Freedom has been given out too freely—sadly, only to the corporations at the head of the markets, and rarely to the citizens. The powerful will always feed upon the less powerful, and this is a demonstrable loss of freedom for the latter.

In order to have liberty for ourselves, there must at the very least be laws restricting others from infringing on that liberty. Anything less would be Mad Max-style anarchy. Control is needed, and must be imposed justly. As discussed in our article ‘On the Fear of Big Government’ (Link), the ultimate purpose of government is to ensure that the power which inevitably arises is a fair and just one.

This must not be taken to mean that I believe the current governments of the world are doing much to uphold these standards—indeed there is a great need for improvement on nearly all fronts. Simply put however, the raging masses squalling for ‘total liberty’—or its ugly cousin ‘anarchy’—are naïve at best. The line between liberty and domination is a difficult one to draw. If drawn too close to total freedom, a void arises, and we end up dominated. It’s circular in a sense, and requires an insightful and informed balance. This is the purpose of society and the governments which it employs, and we must pay heed to avoid being so brash as to throw the baby of equal opportunity out with the bathwater of social order.

-Brad OH Inc.

New Novel: ‘Meaning Less’

Today, I’m thrilled to announce that my most recent novel, ‘Meaning Less’, is complete and with my publisher for review.

This can be a lengthy process, but I’ll keep you updated as things progress, and hopefully will have more news soon.

For now, I’m happy to share a brief synopsis/ teaser. I hope you enjoy it!

Languishing in a dystopian corporate hell-scape, Jeffrey Boggs struggles to find meaning in a world that’s left him behind. His apartment is empty, his future is grim, and each day working in the terrible black tower of SALIGIA Inc. plays out like an ill-humoured assault on what scarce dignity remains to him.  

As the brief summer begins to fade into a bitter Edmonton winter, Jeff is haunted by memories of better times long behind him. Desperate to find a purpose in life, he turns to his new co-worker, Janice, hoping to use what he’s taken years to learn to help her cope with the degrading daily grind at SALIGIA.

Time and again however, Jeff fails to find what he needs. His colleagues compete for favor, his supervisors conspire to get him fired, and Jeff plots to find a way out on his own terms.

When a gathering snow storm promises to end the brief reprieve of summer, Jeff makes a final play for control in his life. But there’s no secret meaning to life beyond living with meaning, and as he chases it in all the wrong places, each day begins to mean a little less…

Your Friends,

-Brad OH Inc.

Merry Christmas, ya Filthy Animals

If anyone is reading this today, just what the hell are you doing? It’s Christmas, for heaven’s sake. Go drink some eggnog, or hug a loved one. Maybe open a present, or suck a candycane, or something.

If those alternatives don’t suffice though, we’re happy to have you, as always.

I want to wish a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all the readers of this blog.

Keep your eyes peeled, cause we here at Brad OH Inc. are hoping to have some great surprises for you early in the New Year.

Until then,

-Brad OH Inc.