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Mike Reyes, aka Mr. Controversy, has considered himself a writer ever since he was a child. He wrote for various school publications from about 1995 until 2006, and currently runs both The Bookish Kind and Mr. Controversy, which is an offshoot of the regular column he wrote in High School. He's also authored several short stories such as "The Devil's Comedian", "The Devil v. George W. Bush", and most recently "Wait Until Tomorrow". He resides in New Jersey. Any inquiries for reprinting, writing services, or general contact, should be forwarded to: michaelreyes72@hotmail.com

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Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Bastard in a Basket.com – The H.W. Plainview Blogs: Entry 1

Yes, I know There Will Be Blood isn't a recent thing. Yes, I know that this might be seen as dated by some. No, I do not care. Yes, I hope you enjoy it. With that out of the way, here's the first entry of some blogging I stumbled upon over at MySpace.

Entry: “The Little Fish Gasping For Air in The Jet Black Darkness of the Soul of an Oil Tycoon”
Entry Dated: January 7th
Mood: Lethargic

Ho hum. Another day, another year, another opportunity to let down my father by not hearing a fucking word he’s saying. I swear, if I have to see him call me a bastard in a basket again, I’ll kick him in the balls and leave him moaning on the floor. He had a meeting today with some Arabs who said they’d buy his company from him for $50 million, plus 10% of their Annual Earnings. WHO CARES?! I haven’t been able to listen to my White Stripes album because that fuck let me get rocketed away on an oil rig. OIL HURTS, OIL SUCKS, OIL IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THE REAL DEATH IN THE WORLD, OIL KILLED MY REAL FATHER! I swear, I could catch on fire in one of his shitty employee shanties near the rig, and he’d be rushing to save his, “Precious black gold!”.

Speaking of black gold Dad’s been hiring the hookers more frequently lately, ever since he axed that preacher dude. It’s a sad, sad day when the biggest accomplishment you can cite your father for is that he, “killed some dude with a bowling pin and got away with it.” I almost hate myself for him. *sigh* Looks like it’s time to draw the shades and listen to some Aiden again. I know I can't hear...I just pretend some little girl is screaming the lyrics at me with the pain of a thousand dead souls. (Which from what I hear is pretty much the same thing.) Life sucks.

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