Category: Lords of Boblimptock

MP3: https://planetarystatusreport.com/mp3/20230924_WOOKIE.mp3

Donate: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/doctorfreckles

Topics:

1. what’s going on with Dan?
2. what’s in the news? – fuck if I care.
3. “Shadow Over Innsmouth” – Big Foot Edition
4. Big Foot War 1
5. Angry people at walmart, angrier people at starbucks

A tale of that FLIX BUS STOP off of 31st Street, in NYC, across from the Madison Square Gardens …

They cast their eyes at me and I winced, as the TUESDAY NIGHT COASTERS zoomed on by. their women-folk in tow, as the “johns” look on, seeking sweaty and degrading liaisons in some grimy alleyway in NYC.

“YOU FROM FRIMPTON?”, screamed Benny. He knows – he can’t really read or write, but he knows.

Benny ruled the streets around 31st Street, he carried a carpenter’s hammer and a roll of quarters. He was the SHOT CALLER on that block, working for the WEST SIDE JOOG-CLAN and running the flesh show near Broadway and Madison Square Gardens. “BIG B” as they called Benny sat large on his Honda scooter and would circle the gawkers and European vacation crowd, murmuring their broken English with strong German accents, being so aloof to the circumstance that is all to real where they are from.

The FLICKER BUS passengers would huddle in the darkness, as the “land crab” scuttles by, looking for some bagel left behind during the morning rush hour slog.

Benny was rounding up the joog-whores and other ne’er-do-wells this night … He had is brigade of boovula dealers, strutting, cussing, too coy or worried to look long.

Benny was a cowboy of sorts, keeping the “flesh moving”, making sure that all the old freaks could take a look and maybe decide based on the window dressing. The women were scared and poor. They wore tight clothes, with tears and visible blood stains on their jeans, near the crotch. Benny had to have a stony heart to do what he did – to be who he was. He had competition. He had enemies.

Benny faced opposition from the STRUG-BOYS of Harlem. They didn’t like how his crew was muscling in on the action and taking their cheddar …

Benny was constantly menaced by the HOOVER-SCOUTS of CROWN HEIGHTS. They carried fully automatic GLOCK-19’s and would spray their lead spew wherever they threw down …

Benny was harried by the BOOMER-RATS of PARK AVENUE – and these old skeez freaks did NOT mess around. One on one they weren’t much, but in groups of 10 or 20 they would surround you and pummel you with their “wisdom and insight” … by the time it was over, you’d pray for death.

Finally, there were ROMEO-DEALERS, spreading meth and X and KROKODIL. They’d sell blues to the street-rats, who after smoking that shit became their willing death zombies.

But Benny was fine, this was his milieu …

Benny was okay …

His ilk were striving in a world of degradation and deformed values, stale bread and moldy t-shirts.

He and his men were ready to go, for whatever, and it’s happening TONIGHT.

Benny’s not leaving.

Are you leaving?

MP3: https://planetarystatusreport.com/mp3/20230830_LEO_and_RHONDA.mp3

Donate: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/doctorfreckles

1. “Corky does magic, I only do tricks.” MAGIC (1978) – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y_uXeqjjkPU
2. Nasty young hippies, in many cases, became nasty old people – mean, brutal, uncaring. Who could have seen this happen?
3. I have a plan now … to kill Hitler. TE(X) = ROOT(entropy/spacetime), Given A(X) = entropy/spacetime, A(X) is therefore also the measure of the “causality field”. The Causality Field represents the general combination of space-time and entropy with general choice theory, and one could say the DENSITY of TE(X) is also significant to what is called the trailing edge of the “now” or the present. There is no multiverse, but there is a multi-present. Only in extreme cases of low-entropy causality fields could one say “a moment is a moment”, but in reality, most non-trivial causality regions have a trailing edge of the now that goes back some distant, with a restriction of ROOT(A(X)). We have a multi-present, or an unresolved now, until the trailing edge of the present crosses the events location in time. Only at the moment the trailing edge crosses the event can we definitively say “Schrodinger’s Cat” is dead or alive. Until then, it is in a super-position with respect to the NOW. There may be places on EARTH and in the universe where the TE or Trailing Edge of the Now or Unresolved Present, goes back a hundred years or more. Let’s assume you can either a) locate a region of chaos in the general causality field OR b) generate your own entropy within local space-time to create this noise or chaos within the general causality field. Now you just need a machine to “slip back” in time – traveling forward, using relativity theory, is already known and proven – but going back is the issue. Using a free-positron laser, one can project into an object an equal distribution of negative-energy per the molecular structure of the object – emitting wavelengths and energy that would allow distribution, without shearing or destruction to the subject or time traveler. Of course, you could think of this as inverse holography, but in all the depth of 3 dimensions of matter. Such that the system must be tuned to produce frequencies functional and non-destructive, or likely to cause cancer. This same method can be used to achieve relativistic effects, while holding [X,Y,Z] of the spatial vector constant, while only impacting, in relativistic terms, [T] or time. So the time traveler drifts or slips or sinks back to the 1920’s, and decides to go to Germany to kill Hitler. Fine … you kill Hitler. Problem is: in the 1920’s there were MANY potential “Hitlers”, and we might have ended up with the one that would be easy to defeat. The other issue is this: our present model of super-position is not connected to a multi-verse cosmology, so if you go back in time any distance you are cutting off all future branches of causality in space-time. If you simply go back to Germany in the 1920’s, you will be worse than Hitler or Stalin or Mao or any mass murderer. You will be annihilating every life going forward and replacing it with a new chain of causality. YOU as a time fractor will be conserved, but your “future self” might never exist, or your family, or your friends …. all destroyed. Because you wanted to kill Hitler.
4. We have neighbors at our camp site in Grinken Town, WA. We don’t know their names, they have a super nice looking bus style RV … they look nervous … kind of suspicious and nervous … as I’m staring at them … just sitting in my chair, in the open, staring at them. We have some theories about LEO and RHONDA … it’s what I call them, and here are my theories about them: A) Mexican pharma drug retailers … they drive down Mexico way, hitting the pharmacies there for major drugs … then truck back up to WA state, to service the “elder crowd” and get them WALMART deals on chemo drugs and OXY. B) Really well designed meth lab, better than Walter White. C) Mobile suicide bus, they have this crossover they drive around, pick up old people, and shuffle them off while harvesting their flesh for bio diesel. D) FEDS … they’re FEDS watching me … spying on me as I spy on them. E) Satanists F) mobile slaughter house because they are harvesting human flesh for taco meat … kind of like what happened to Collin and Benji. G) EXOTIC pet sales, tigers, python, alligators. H) stealthy, camouflaged, IRBM nuclear weapon delivery system … they have that angry, depressed, USAF look to them. I) TERRORIST … F) they’re normal people, keeping to themselves, and they get freaked out that I’m staring at them.
5. STARING INTENTLY at someone, with a blank face, and try not to blink – this is a very basic kind of mind control, manipulation. It can raise a person’s blood pressure, make them nervous and angry and anxious and even violent. Drones, police helicopters, one way glass interrogation rooms, spy satellites, and ubiquitous cameras add to a general patina of paranoia surrounding us in contemporary society.

I have made a decision to move to a place where there is a place available – this is as much as I want to say right now. I do, however, need to raise some more money for a bus or train ticket, coach. I’m not into flying any longer – too dystopian, too fucked up.

I’ve done some basic analysis, and the price of a bus ride is the cheapest option for me, all other options are unrealistically expensive, given the amount of stuff I have.

MP3: https://planetarystatusreport.com/mp3/20230825_ZONE_REAPER.mp3

Donate: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/doctorfreckles

Quick Updates:

still at the park, people seem really angry

this might be the first podcast from inside the tent, cuz we’re getting squalls and wind gusts

I’m glad to have the days here, at the park, to slow down. Yeah, I get weird looks because my aura right now probably screams “stay away from that scary guy”.

I get scared, sometimes, thinking that I’m used up. And worse? – that I don’t care that I’m used up.

I know this is true: I’m living in pretend land right now, make believe. I’m at a nice state park surrounded by “nice” people. I’m being left alone and I’m leaving others alone. I don’t have to worry about being robbed or killed or worse. But here’s the thing – I lived in Little Saigon Seattle long enough to know that there are horribly deeper levels of homeless. They make it sound like “well son, just pull yourself up by your bootstraps …” but at the bottom of the morass of American homelessness, is a slimy pit, with slimy cliffs … and no one, almost no one, ever gets out.

I’m not the commie who says “give me money”, just because. I did beg for help this week, and perhaps that was wrong or not or I still wonder. I have to respect my audience well enough to know that THEY can decide whether to give an old hobo money. But I don’t like the stench of grifting, and begging for help can feel close to that.

One more thing – I wonder if my lack of popularity relates primarily to one simple truth: my message does not resonate, because most people are shit heads and satanists at this point. I had some weird experiences at Walmart again – people who would walk towards me, as if to walk into me, with that very aggressive look on their faces.

“Don’t judge a book by its RV.” – Dr. Freckles

“Sideways is progress is a different direction.” – Dr. Freckles

park notes:

“… you say you listen to me, but you don’t listen to me …” “I try to listen to you.”

“some kids never grow up … she’s very skittish … it’s not your dog’s fault”.

ZONE REAPER: code name ALLEY CAT

He is a descendant of TREBLIQ warriors that live near Mt. Baker. He’s half CANADIAN, and the other half is all GOLD. He dreams of TIM HORTON’S muskrat scooter sandwiches and wishes his long past girlfriends well … all except Tessa.

He has a job of monitoring threg sector 18, where the scoob-raiders eat twembly and migrate monthly to the Duwamish River to refill on whisky stew and scogg-slurry. He keeps a close watch on BARRY the SKY DEMON. Barry flies about in his crop duster, laying down a nice mist of steezick gas and pesticides and other bits of debunkuated chemo goo. Got a keep an eye on Barry …

He’s looking for a room to rent, some place not far from Carrie’s Stew Salon And Tattoo Parlor. He got pulled into a “room for rent scheme”, using that old worn out chest nut: “will you send me the 60 refundable dollars to my random room posting”. The answer is: no … I don’t send any money till I’ve seen a place.

You could take him down by Rachel’s sewer rat bistro and suckle upon skeel-wine, waiting for the ALLEY CAT to furl his brow, and grab a bottle, and break it off in your nasty ass face. Zone reapers don’t have time for quasi-sect wannabes and left-side morgly-types … you see them at WALMART.

After the winter-battle of 2013, and his head was shot clean off? – the Zone Reaper was sent to the hospital at Lewis-McChord and they went ahead and used super glue and fishing line and rusty old hooks to sew the ALLEY CAT’s head back on.

BLISTO-ZIGGINS, the scudge wielder, rode with the Zone Reaper, when the harlots of grid-22 got frisky, and mcnuggins was on sale for 3 fiddy and you could still get non-deconstructed potato at the SKLEEG HUT. They chased the star pirates of XEEB and hunted curled beaver in the hooker region of sector-0098ZED.

“COME FORTH AND WASH YOUR FESTULES!”, cried the time-herald, bringing forth the sunshine day of forever before and ever until. His mind was warped from space dust and kiln-wine. Jester-turds would dance about that haglon, and the ZONE REAPER would mark time upon the clock that freak built, and the safe passage home to yesterday.

A jealous stag-minge from quadrant-MOOGON got caught in the Zone Reaper’s eyes, she fell in love, they connected and had a condo together. they would take weekend trips to the national forests of YOOG-8, and swim naked in the tondo-pools. He would inguzzlate her, using his sheebus-wand, and her boovula would detractify with oil kindness. But Zone Reaper dumped her because she was two timing with a squid-greeder, and maxing out his credit cards. She haunts him, stalks him, keeps track of him using witches and wizards and hyper-technology.

The hoove scoove kept the groove, and Ghendar’s slog wedding …

Jib-zoos were opening soon near the galactic center – the whole zoo is half a light year in diameter … crazy big. They’ll have lemurs … radioactive ones.

Castor creeps lurk between the blackholes and pulsars. Zone Reaper had his run ins with that crew. Those gunkit types carried 12 gauge 5 shot recoil supported revolvers, with mixed ammo, grenade, sabot. The creeps would hunt starships bearing gold and silver and hookers, and cocaine. Zone Reaper would use wop-guns filled with titanium plasma darts … he’d take’m out … and be back to Bregna-Prime for breakfast with his womens.

I was a traveler, in the TIME OF HIPPIES and RED WINE,

I spent my time, dancing the chorus, eating ouroboros,

I taught TIMOTHY LEARY all that he knew,

we sniffed glue,

I was his guide,

my brain was fried …

I am a traveler, and it’s all FINE.

***

He was a TRAVELER, in the time of BOBLIMPTOCK,

He spent his DAYS in a haze, drinking monkey spit,

He scolded ELVIS,

He sang to OLD CLOVIS,

It was ATROCIOUS,

He had his clam lover on TICK TOCK,

Cuz he was a traveler, and the road was cracked, and the SHIP was ROCKED.

***

She was a huntress, dressed in fiery love,

She was the QUEEN, fitting her kingdom like a glove,

She drank urchin wine and laughed before the swine.

She held court in MEMPHIS,

she was TEMPTRESS,

always scantily clad,

YOU DON’T MAKE HER MAD!

SHE’S A FUCKING TRAVELER!

***

We were travelers on the ROAD of DISARRAY,

we made love to the swamp birds but HEY,

if a cow got into our way?

We’ll launch a troll-beam and see the world gleam.

As if this were the farce,

as if we were the fools,

as if land were far way,

wasn’t it cool?

To be that TRAVELLER?

To be that DUDE …

***

1. When Col Sanders fought the NAZIs at Iwo Jima, a cleveland steamer, can I borrow your beamer … BMW …
2. That time ZOOK the ALIEN stole your butt hole love ….
3. And so Anne McGrood, hustling and rude, burned the CAR and flooded the bar …
4. Horace the Slimy
5. Tenny Tendril
6. Whores from S’compton

If I were 102 years old …

I’d live to see hyper intelligent bacteriological colonies form themselves into doctors and nurses at Harborview Medical Center. Nurse SKRON or Dr. SCLUB would seem like normal “people”, but they would simply be a self-organizing MASS of MRSA that had achieved consciousness. If I lived to 102.

<<< dedicated to that shit head mocking homeless people >>>

1. spend time in the THROOG-ROOM, where the mustard ladies rub steeg-oil on your buttocks and skendlor freaks hang out to raid the jade market.
2. awaiting transport to the TACO BELL MEAT PROCESSING FACILITY in VEGAS.
3. hunting ying-bear in the Uinta Mountains, making love to my native American wife, wearing leather and fur from animals I’ve vanquished …
4. sitting in a facility, managed by robots, robot nurses, robot hookers, robots to wipe your butt, robots to make your bed, robots to punch you and torture you, robots to chop off your head
5. I will live with 24 cats on the top of some unstable volcano, hoping that the dear Lord could eject me and my cats into deep space to link up with Harry Truman …

What you gonna do sucker?

When you TURN 102 …

(106 is a fucking joke)