"Give me liberty or give me death." - Patrick Henry

Nathan Tayor Video Diary

I look through the scope and pretend to pull the trigger while I make a childish "brkah" sound of the rifle blast. This is going to be so incredibly cool – I've never shot anybody before.

How did I ever find myself in this situation? On top of the Saxman-Silver Building in Richmond armed with a high powered rifle that I barely know how to shoot. I guess I just got tired. I had nobody to blame but myself and that self-serving, greedy son of a bitch at the other end of the gun sight. He hasn't arrived yet, but I imagine him standing at the podium. The audience begins to gather. I have to glance away when the early morning sun pierces the edge of a cloud.

And, oh yes, there was a woman involved, too. Isn't there always?

I position my cell phone in the gravel so that it would record my rambling observations with the importance of any random meTube video. Maybe my family will watch it someday.

I know what you're thinking. This is some sort of precautionary tale about how to avoid the coming disaster. You're thinking we can avert the violence through peaceful protests. Arm and arm we'll march down Pennsylvania Avenue. In the brilliance of the Capitol reflecting pool they will have to listen to the ground swell of public indignation. There is always an answer through peaceful methods.

Fuck that.

This is no precautionary tale. The dominoes are already in place. For all intents and purposes, the war has already started – it just needed a spark. How could I know this when the brightest minds in the country had no inkling? I didn't intend to start a revolution. All I wanted was to get my revenge. You can't hold me responsible for the anger of the entire nation.

Most of this diary is a combination of my overactive imagination dwelling in a dark and empty cave that was once my house. My last will and testament of a life destroyed. But it will have to do – it's all I have for my daughter. The final chapter is not yet written, but I expect it to occur in federal court.

Until recently, I was a happily married family man and a registered Republican. I paid my taxes on time, went to church (occasionally), and generally ignored politics outside of an angry scream in support of Fox News. I never even used to swear.

I also have a fuckin' US grade A patent - for what it's worth. Once I thought it was worth a fortune. It was going to help solve our world's energy problems - then my patent wasn't worth a damn.

I'm a genius; everybody says so. And I even believed them; some part of me still does. I invented a way to make cheap ethanol fuel out of switch grass. The combination of chemistry, bacteria, and process conditions reduced the manufacturing costs by a factor of ten and tripled the process throughput. Plus, that stuff can grow just about anywhere.

I should have made a mint. I was well on my way to membership in the 1%; but I was a financial nimrod. At the end of each pay check, I had too much month remaining. I could not even afford to run my own car. Taken in by high stakes racketeers in pinstriped suits, my invention was worthless.

Genesis Hamilton returns to the roof with breakfast. I call her Jenny, but she hates that name – it's too plain.

I don't know how she gets away with it. A world-renowned politician is going to appear on the front lawn of the state capitol announcing his candidacy for president. I've been hiding here days in preparation. I don't have the courage to leave for fear that I couldn't return. Yet she comes and goes as she pleases. I guess she feels like she owns this place. This is her building, after all. Even though she was fired months ago, they never deactivated her badge. You would think the security guard would pay more attention to these things – if the bank had the wherewithal to hire a live one.

This morning she has a couple of bagels and coffee from Starbucks. It smells great, but it tastes like a last meal. She laughs at the way the cream cheese oozes across my lips. Then she licks it off with her tongue. Her glittering green eyes gaze into mine. It is completely manipulative – and I love it. I could stand a little careless sexual manipulation. She has exceptional talent in both physical and emotional trickery. It's probably what led me here in the first place.

"Do you want to have a little fun," she says with a whisper in my ear after I wolfed down the last remnants of breakfast. "This could be our last time for the next twenty years." She peels off her black sweater. "Except for you cell mate." Jenny can be very persuasive.

She begins to unzip her pants, revealing the small Caesarean scar. "Not now," I say, "I'm too tense." The scar reminds me why we're here - a premature child born out of desire and anger into a world that no longer wants him.

"I know just how to relax you," she insists rubbing her hands along my crotch. Jenny is disappointed in my reaction. It's how she gets what she wants – but it isn't necessary. She knows I'm already sold on the undertaking. Perhaps she does have some shred of desire for me.

She picks up the binoculars and scans the growing crowd. "Look, there are the 99 percenters from the Occupy movement," she says. "What a bunch of losers."

"They're intentions are good," I say. "They lack focus and need a little push. I have half a mind to provide one."

"They lack everything but self-importance and oversized egos. Just sitting around a table, arguing, and telling each other how wonderful they are. Maybe they'll have better luck saving the whales – people ware beyond them," she says with a chuckle.

Jenny hands me the binoculars and I scan around the waking city. Cars scurry through the streets in such a hurry to get somewhere that they will no longer remember about tomorrow. In the distance, I can just make out the Richmond Battlefield Memorial – a monument to our last civil war.

Completing the circle, almost behind me, stands the Colossus Bank Building – an ugly blot on the James River and the second largest building in the city. For years, the CEO's of Colossus and Saxman, embroiled in a race of self-glorification to the sky, constructed the tallest possible buildings with other people's money. One after the other, they built successive phalluses to prove their manhood. Symbols of our nations worship of wealth clutters the skyline with their concrete egos. Saxman-Silver's building was six feet taller than the Colossus which means that their chairman was the current leader in the infantile battle. This explains why Saxman's provides the best sniper location.

Beyond that stood the now empty Wachovia bank tower and next to it stood the Federal Reserve building with the power to regulate these massive banks. Regulate … that's a funny word, infused with irony. I should say, they have the power to choose their next chairmen from the executive suite of either of Saxman-Silver or Colossus. For decades, the relationship ensures little actual regulation or oversight interfered with their cozy golf matches.

The Capitol lawn overflows with well wishers and protesters alike. It is nearly time for the main guests to arrive. Following one last look through the binoculars, we settle into position. It was time to return to the comfort of our sleeping bag mattresses. I set the foreplate to steady the A-frame of my Savage Arms 1108A sniper rifle.

The Savage Arms rifle is neither the cheapest nor the lightest, but it looks like something Rambo would use. I purchased the entire sniper kit including the backwoods outfit for camouflage. The cost didn't concern me. I wasn't going to pay that credit card bill anyway. I also bought a crossbow. I'm not sure why; it was just so incredibly badass.

Jenny leans next to me and playfully caresses my ass. I had a difficult time lining up the target in my scope while she whispers into my ear. "Hit him for me," she pleads, "kill him." I think I might give her what she wants. The little men weave in and out of my sight at this distance. Having only shot the rifle at the shooting range, I find it difficult to steady the rifle. There the targets don't move. I activate the slide and chamber the round.

Finally, I take a few deep breaths and hold the final one. I place the crosshairs directly on the swanker who robbed the entire country blind. I squeeze the trigger and it doesn't move. I squeeze harder – nothing. "The safety is on," Jenny says. Thanks. I flip the switch to free the safety.

A few more deep breaths - I barely touch the trigger and the round fires. Almost immediately, my target collapses to the ground and is covered by secret service agents. The crowd screams and begins to scatter as though I would ever care about them. I can hear the ruckus all the way up here. I sit up and lean against the vent. Jenny is laughing her ass off. She saw everything through the binoculars.

I had no way of knowing this at the time, but with that one shot, the revolution begins. I got revenge for myself and Jenny. Revenge is sweet, but revolution is …. well it turns out to be pretty sour.