I was elected the LAST LORD of BOBLIMPTOCK.
My kestrel women are covered in oils and greases, and they suckle upon the fruit of Tybos – while undulating and writhing and producing their own doobie jelly.
DANOMETRY: towards a new theory of thoughts concerning ideas
FTD: fundamental theorem of danometry – you get circles and lines … if you’re a dick about danometry? – we take away the lines.
Axiom 1: the interior angles of all triangles add up to 7 hippos and 5 million dollars.
Axiom 2: there are NOT 360 degrees on a circle, nope; there are 219.6 degrees – this flaw is WHY we’ve not been back to the MOON, with humans, in 50 plus years.
Axiom 3: the only way to become COMPETENT in mathematics is to donate $500 a month to my podcast.
Theorem 1: given AXIOM 1 and AXIOM 3, no two hookers can occupy the same HONEY BUCKET at the same time, unless PIMP FUEL is used. Pimp fuel is created using snow-cone machine residue and the dorg flesh of a nearly dead politician.
Theorem 2: if you assume AXIOM 3 is true, then you can derive the following simpliciter via the generalized rules of thought developed by Yugan the “Sky Farmer” and according to his ancient thoughts – “you have to give Dan at least 500 bucks a month, or he’ll hangout back … behind your house … and do something, something bad”. You can see how this is true.
Axiom 4: parallelograms don’t exist … shut UP about them … or there will be trouble.
Axiom 5: IF any two functions allow you to get to the same answer – then the functions exist within the general fabric of equivalent functions, and such functions will create spheres … and with those spheres we will endure, and love each other.
Axiom 6: conic sections can only be created using stainless steel, Teflon coated, KNIVES. If you live in England, you are not allowed to create these sections, but you can still buy them on the black market.
Axiom 7: numbers are possessed by demons.
Axiom 8: if you are able to solve a complicated problem involving many linear equations? – then you’re a nerd, and we’re going to see YOU … in the bathroom … during the break between classes. And you’ll learn a new “shape” … the swirly.
Theorem 3: Given AXIOM 6 and AXIOM 4, you can derive a general rule for making QUICK CASH with my BRAND NEW synchronously available multi-level cash-flow scheme … you just have send me $2,000 ASAP, or I’ll send some polygons to destroy you … and math problems involving factoring quadratics, you fuck.
Theorem 4: A corollary to AXIOM 7 is that your ex-wife was a whore … she dumped you for Neal … what the fuck kind of name is “Neal”. You live in a camper and eat cold beans and soggy remorse. Your dog ran off to join the wolves nearby, and they’re all working out HOW they get “steak dinner”. You can always change careers, but that means you slide deeper into the abyss they call the American Dream, so why not just do crack … it’s logic.
Axiom 9: You can have triangles … if you pay us $200 a month and are willing to let us visit, and hangout in your backyard, and do stuff … we’ll talk about what kind of stuff. But you can’t have ISOSCELES triangles, not unless you pay more money … and provide hookers.
Axiom 10: Right triangles are WRONG. They just don’t help anyone.
Axiom 11: Equilateral triangles really love cubes, but they are feeling like cubes aren’t growing as people and so they want to see other people.
Theorem 5: Women will break your heart and there ain’t NOTHING you can do about it, not if you want to pass this class and achieve total victory against the SLUG KNIGHTS of region-21-ZEBRA.
Axiom 12: Screaming loudly increases a student’s ability to do math, totally.
Axiom 13: There are 4 things that you think you know about perpendicular lines … and a 5th thing you’ll never guess.
Axiom 14: 90% of all food consumed by high school students contains dead rabbit bones, old fish scales and nuclear waste from various NRC regulated “nuke-2-food” programs run by the AG department. If you sample 2/3 of the waste generated? – you’ll find that is glows in the dark, and is rich in vitamin C.
Axiom 15: There’s no way to square the circle – it is futile and depressing. Better to live in a cave, like Pythagoras, and avoid eating beans. After several years of this, your heart will crystallize and your income level will increase by 700%.
Axiom 16: Danometry is based … based on 4 numbers … 1, 2, 3, 4 … if I get to 5? – bad things happen. Don’t ask for any number greater than 5 or less than 1 … but remember: there are an infinite number of REAL numbers between 1 and 4 … So am I not generous?
I came from the forest …
I came from the forest, when the herald brought the message, and the wizard burned the virgins.
I lived in the woods till I was three, no man saw my fire and no woman sought my glance …
I ate worms and dead raccoons and droppings from hester-hawks, and got lost in it.
STAR CAPTAIN KRIZ
I could be STAR CAPTAIN KRIZ …
I could be the TRIDENT LEADER of the LAST STAR FLEET of GORGIZ-TRULL; our forces are being chased by the evil lesbian galaxy beastress – Wodanda. Her body vibrates with the joy of combat, and she seeks the grease-energy of swampy-love and female inmates, scantily clad, escaping from some misogynistic prison in the Everglades.
Her main forces are rendezvousing near TIGRIS-PRIME, where the squid-merchants sell blue-spice to the tiglin-slaves and whores. They carry shaft-swords and pingo-guns, they rant and rave and scale the walls – using super powers and suction … if you know what I mean. I could battle her, and defeat her, and maybe marry her … except she’s lesbian.
I might find my true love on the planet EER, where NAZI salamander armies wage war with the frog people. And no one knows why, and no one cares; for caring is for the weak stones, and the gravel.
We could move our last platoon to the edge of nowhere, the event horizon of meaningless plunder.
My ship would use old style fission drives, and our workers would manually adjust the control rods – and sometimes things go wrong … and that’s why we have space … to dump bodies.
Sure, our craft, the “ZEEBRAMO”, moves at a fast clip, but them there lesbian ships are faster.
Lesbian star ships have access to pure splizz-oil. It is the lubricant of hyper-light travel. Some say, with pure splizz, you can reach 77 times the speed of light – and along the way, you get a happy ending.
Sure – it could be lies, but if I were STAR CAPTAIN KRIZ, I’d know …
They’d sing songs of Captain Kriz …
They’d sing of my victories over the Pirates of Glym.
They’d sing of my heroic efforts saving the goobie people of Dlob-33.
Yes – they’d sing songs of amazingness and cool time fun.
If I were CAPTAIN KRIZ!
If I were STAR CAPTAIN KRIZ? – I’d settle worlds in region-43ZED, and find myself embroiled in the conflicts of the 4th SKLEBEN WAR. They’d holler mean things at me, and kick me in the nads, and set fire to my spaceship; this was the price of being a VORG-MINION. I could have left the caste and cast my line deep into the dark of the galaxy, but my rod was soft and my heart enlarged.
And maybe WODANDA’S friend DURILLA, the BOOB-QUEEN, is interested in me. And we end up having babies … and they carry on the journey.
The Time War …
What if WW2 became a time war … and the dilated NOW goes back 100 years now …
And they are still fighting WW2.
If I were President …
If I were President, I’d have NASA come up with a plan to destroy the Moon … and then Mars.
If I were President, I’d sell waffles at the White House, and make 40 bucks a plate.
If I were President, I’d eat pastry bread and cover it in cheese and pickle brine … and then add the sardines.
If I were President, I’d build shrunket-tanks and arm all sides with them … these tanks would be made of old steel and dead elk and smell of stripper snatches, cigarettes and stale beer …
And you’ll buy them, armed with vulcan canon that fire 12 gauge mixed rounds.
If I was President of the USA?
I’d sponsor a national stripper day …
We’d have strippers, up and DOWN WA DC …
Covered in hooker grease and spizz oil, with their boovulas torgating …
(and then I’d realize)
“This is like any other day …”
YURGEN TIME: THE MOON MUST BE DESTROYED!
“ALL HAIL THE YURGEN TIME!”, said Torwald the Bludgeoner …
He’d carry his bats and chain and inject himself with human growth hormone just to find a way to EXCITEMENT and NEW STYLE condo living. His parents were lost ones, and his wife left him for the turtle wax master. They said YURGEN TIME would end when the Sky Hawk Shaman declared BOBLIMPTOCK OVER …
“But it’s never over”, decried the mistress Dorsella. She spared no expense covering up her body with pasty green dresses and high heel shoes. Dark red lipstick and cursed eye gleams …
SKEEVIS KINGS hide from the yellow light and build onyx chapels for the coming of STAARN …
“STAARN the MASTER FORGER! STAARN the OBLIVIOUS! STAARN the SCARRED CAPTAIN … we know him”, muttered Dorsella, invoking “STAARN” as a curse upon the land, as a song to the wild sea, as an ode to lost cowboys and arrant knights looking for EASY HOOKUPS. The women folk were gathering fruits and nuts and oils for the celebration; the easy-going hustlers were setting up their tables for 3 card monte.
“When STAARN comes, the seas will turn to gravel and the mountains will melt away like gravy”, HEEBUS, Dorsella’s ex-boyfriend, pondered this undoing – this new age of chilled spirits and hot nights with greasy women.
It was foreboding, the shape of the clouds …
It was an omen, the noise of the crow.
It was near, the fire, the reshaping, the rebuilding of gangster worlds and pirate realms and the outlasting sense of flower and spice.
Torwald had returned from the SCOBE-WARS and was sitting with Dorsella and Heebus and a few others at the Rooksom Public House. He had a leather jacket with patches from around the world – if the world is defined in terms of Sturgis, SD. He kept an eye on his Harley parked outside, and another eye on Dorsella’s cleavage … and with his THIRD EYE, Torwald was digging deep into Heebus’ mind, soul space, tunneling deep into the hidden parts of Torwald’s brain.
Heebus groaned as the mountain tops began to sing.
Heebus had hidden, deep within the mind-space, stories and paths and means to great gold, adventure and diamonds. Heebus would defeat STAARN with LASER WINGS and common pizza herding.
Heebus spoke: “The moon is the guevous-cream in our monkey-steam … it’s a slab of hooker crabs, it’s the dent in our celestial rent … it must be destroyed …”
THE MOON MUST BE BURNED TO THE GROUND! – this was the zeitgeist.
Heebus and Dorsella and Torwald knew the MOON was to blame for ALL OF IT …
The MOON is the DIRK-NIGGLIN and CAPER MONK.
The MOON is a wine darling and a street alley minstrel.
The MOON spreads disease, crabs and STARBUCKS.
In YURGEN TIME, the clone denizens wander aimlessly and the wizards of Cleveland spin their jenny, looking deep into the highway garbage and the lost tire squirrels.
In YURGEN TIME, the OOG-MINES are laid across the bridge to reunion and redemption. No one is considered without fault, no one is clean. The swamp killers drive the streets, in firetrucks … they take the hoses and spray the hobos as they drive by, leaving them cold and shivering in the streets.
“I live in a camper … I am friends with the raccoon and the hawk … I am friends with the wolf and the owl … I GROWL at the MOON, cuz real soon … We gonna TAKE THAT MOON DOWN … The MOON must GO, or we can’t grow”, Dorsella said, as RED the FIRE-STURGEN burped and cried and vomited his ale.
Yurgen-wine is what Dorsella knows …
Dorsella spoke:
“There were 9 threegous wars, before the time of undoing. There were 12 elven kings, upon the arrival of TOR the MASCOT STEALER. And if we can forget, would we not FORGET the UPHEAVAL of DEB – when her lesbian forces stormed the island chain of Nubilinia?”
Her words resonated with Torwald.
Torwald remembered these times …
THE AGE OF HAGEN-TOOK.
Hagen-took, the FORG-MASTER, rode horse and shot canon and built trebuchet made out of steel and stone. he hunted the meercat and fed upon the loins of dwarves. His army wore codpieces made of codpieces, and his own codpiece was made of silver codpieces. And none were worse.
TORWALD WAS MAD!
He had loved Dorsella, and her heaving bosom. He inglomoolated her boovula multiple times, and left spizz oil as residue of passion.
His essence covered her like the golden shower of a hundred musk-maidens, and it was unto the rabbit lord that she was to be given – but Torwald would not have it.
“But the MOON MUST BE DESTROYED!” screamed Heebus …
And this too was agreed upon, it was merely the means by which the Moon will be destroyed that was up for debate.
It might involved building a 500 gigaton nuclear device using cobalt derived radiological materials and some type of crystalline tritium encasement.
We might have to build a super laser, powered by nog-sauce from the hooker sector. We’ll have this laser “manned” by prostitutes and strippers wearing nothing. And their own juices will power the laser … so even if that doesn’t work … cuz it’s as plausible as the MATRIX plot … you still have strippers and hookers. This made Heebus smile.
“THERE IS NO PEACE AS LONG AS THE MOON SHINES!”
At this the crew laughed …
They knew their task was “impossible”, but they also knew they had the GRIT and KNOWHOW to try … and try well.
Sure – the monks of GASTIA would try to stop them. Their sacred oath is to the VATICAN and Shirley Temple’s ghost …
Yeah – the BUSTY NUNS of DOOG TOWN will use their powers to persuade them to halt their journey and join the nuns, nakedly, in the sacred oil pools. They will say NO … surely … but nonetheless, they must gird their loins.
… and I sing their song …
… and I dream of destroying the MOON …
Every time some shit head says “you can’t destroy the Moon”, I will point ironically, and yet cryptically, at a portrait the lunar lander, on the Moon, I bought from NASA’s website.
They won’t know what I mean.
A few hundred megatons of nukes in the right spot, exploded on the dark side of the Moon, would send the Moon into a slowly degrading orbit, and in a matter of MONTHS … the Moon would be destroyed.
(along with the Earth)
The MOON is a death STAR …
The MOON is a death STAR …
The MOON is a death STAR …
I should run for president in 2024.
“Dan, what’s your platform?”
“MY PLATFORM? … fuck … fuck you.”
“Come on Dan, tell us what you will do as President?”
“I WILL DESTROY THE MOON!”
“Okay … strong position.”
The cost of destroying the Moon?
(pennies a day)
SKEZ?
I was meant to be REGION LORD,
to be married to a SCARLETT DINGER named SALLY.
We’d rest on summer days,
smoking crack and washing our crotch,
smelling the sticky love emanating from the grove,
becoming NORDIC DEATH MARES …
And left behind in the land of BOBLIMPTOCK,
sadly.
I was the GORGON that struck fear into the hearts of the dimblies and the gorbs.
I ate monkey stew with the kings and led the armies against the last onslaught of the TOOB GANG.
I suckled on breast wine, as the mistress held the whip; so many broken souls left in boblimptock.
Maybe Tomorrow
MP3: https://planetarystatusreport.com/mp3/20231011_Maybe_Tomorrow.mp3
Donate: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/doctorfreckles
FRANKENSTEIN: an existentialist novel
Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein as an exploration of self in the world.
I haven’t been doing my work as a disciple recently … and I said “no news” … fuck
Link: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2023/oct/07/hamas-and-israel-at-war-what-we-know-so-far
- thief in the night
- He’s better than ant man
- we should be ready at any time
*** Hamas or Hezbollah, paragliding into a music festival, abducting and killing … yeah … this is all too real.
Spider Webs
Disillusioned at your own rate …
“Everyone has a right to become disillusioned at their own pace.” – Dr. Freckles
Maybe tomorrow …
Maybe tomorrow I will learn to fly, so high in the sky that I multiply and become like whiskey …
Maybe tomorrow I find a hidden tunnel to that magical beyond place, where frolicking monkeys sell you cigarettes and hookers … maybe …
Maybe tomorrow I invent love-sauce, and become like Ron Jeremy, as if I had the super power of total bone control and access … and maybe I marry a porn star wife … and maybe the marriage ends in divorce.
Maybe tomorrow I eat brisket with an old friend, and we talk about pistol nuts and french fry cream and albino elk. And maybe it’s important.
Maybe I will soon find the love of my life, and marry her in a meadow, and bury her next to the others, maybe? Maybe if I’m bad, right?
Maybe we get the FRANKLIN STYLE merge-tune in the coming weeks, when harmonic energy attains 5 levels of scale … and there’s pie. Maybe.
Maybe next week we will see new kinds of crispy chicken sandwiches, and this will trigger further crispy chicken wars and riots … and from this will be born a new sense of respect … maybe.
Maybe the oceans are dying …
Maybe I shambled out of apedom yesterday …
Maybe every Charlton Heston movie was true …
Why didn’t we build an ARMY of Charlton Heston robots? – we could have … we SHOULD have … maybe.
Maybe we did land on the Moon a few times, and then we forgot how we did it for half a century, as we spun tales of “singularity” and “super tech” … except when it comes to Space bro … less than 1000 have been there … think. Maybe “space” is bullshit.
Maybe my woman cheated on me with Dennis, and maybe Dennis is younger and hotter … but Krystal, you said you LOVED ME forever … forever is longer than 3 years Krystal. I love you … come back to me baby.
Maybe soon, perhaps within a year, I will travel to the mountains of Dysteria, and feed upon cumpus bread and tiggly wine. My garments will be made of silk and showered and poured upon by the gentle rains of spring, as the figures of disdainful regret hunt me and haunt me to the end, to push me onward to the blue star of destiny … perhaps THEN I will find my true love, hidden in the shadows. She will have crabs.
Maybe in an hour or two I’ll find the lost charms of DELMORDOS … and my male strug-levels will go through the ROOF … which means I have to move to the Jersey Shore and become a ja-brony … eat corn nuggets filled with anabolic steroids … power boost my blood with unknown things we dare not speak of … I think soon.
Maybe in about 2 weeks aliens will arrive from planet TOOBA, and with them will come the great discoveries of the galactic elite – carbonated fear drinks and used cigarette butts will be their bounty. I will gaze upon their sleek and greasy style, as the mileage provides hag energy, and the elf was to trod nowhere, and the heralds of chaos warn of coming storms and other crappy stuff … maybe. Maybe some kind of JRR TOLKIEN bullshit …
Maybe when the sun turns black and the clouds become acrid and sorrowful, I will GO to the Stingo Priests who sojourn near Sequim. They will share stories of adventure and piracy and lost pimps from Vancouver Island who do not understand the desire for “Thai food and craft beer”. Their generous offerings of thought are rejected, and I cast upon their visage a gaze of dynamite fury – and their lost memories are regained, as a lead pipe hits them on the back of their nasty heads. Very soon this will happen.
Maybe I’ll start lifting weights … get really fit and have those washboard abs … find myself a brunette kind of baby and marry her and move to the woods to have our fill of carnal bliss. She leaves me for Yurg the Archer, and they hunt beaver near the swamps of Krelm … and that would make me sad, probably really sad.
Maybe the STAR WARRIORS of Hollywood have x-wing fighters and millennium falcons and large imperial walkers … they shall reign in infamy as the LA tigers seek diesel fumes, and the ingenue rioters have nothing for them waiting, and no new livery apparel to wear to the cowboy weddings and vampire funerals … sure.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll stop doing crack … I’ll stop walking the street, looking for land-wax and opening up to random prostitutes and totally self aware alley thugs …
Maybe I’ll make ape-pudding for dinner, and I’ll sit in my cubby and meditate on camper style life changes and various forms of worms that will dig into my brain and infect me with pain … and the heat-chills from the weird residuals left over from other dying flesh … sure.
Maybe you can pack a wound with broken glass and sand and metal shavings and vodka … maybe it gets infected and you end up with some monstrous thing growing on you, with greedy eyes and lustful spirit. In days you are covered in boils and roiling with the fevers of a million diseases … but you don’t die, nature will not allow it. Maybe you get better and learn to surf … and this would be nice.
Maybe in a few days I’ll start fishing for something … I’ll grab a pole and some line and a lure … I’ll stand frozen upon the pier, looking out upon the rustic seas, imagining great creatures that luck down below and are so saddled with their own contentious dismay … I am aggrieved to know that twilight life still swims there, and feeds off the poison of the world. And I can stand and breathe … and drink jug slurry … maybe.
Maybe they’ll find the groodol soon – it will be tasty and sweet and neat and come from the bottom of the Pacific … seen post Fukushima … it’s happy and nice, our new style crab meat … one big red eye, it cannot die.
Maybe I build lasers designed to save whales …
Maybe I take that trip to Toledo, the one I’ve been putting off …
Maybe I join the GRONKIS LORDS or the WEST SIDE HOOLIES and do the jig with REBAR and pillow cases filled with d-cell batteries … sure.
Maybe I do this tomorrow.
I was born …
They sell those here.
MP3: https://planetarystatusreport.com/mp3/20231001_THEY_SELL_THOSE_HERE.mp3
Donate: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/doctorfreckles
They do sell those here …
- Watermelon and pastry filler …
- Radios … for talking or listening … or hearing and understanding …
- Cars
- cocaine
- meth
- riddlin
- cough syrup
- vaccines, lots of kinds of vaccines …
- death fluid
- scorgon chips
- frenchie nibblets
- cardigans
- sweat pants with elastic bands
- beer and liquor and sadness and wine
- corn nuggets
- chicken blocks – popular in Denmark, a whole square can of chicken, defenestration, in goop sauce
- ocean beef: a new thing in the deep
- green yoog stew
- chili
- pensy-trog chops
- kayaks
- body bags
- sand bags
- concertina wire
- used sanitary napkins
- sushi
- horse or unicorn
- tiger meat
- wendy-spice
- light bulbs
- adrenochrome, now at walmart
- nuclear war
- Christmas cheer
- hawking spheres
- thanksgiving love … doesn’t last
- halloween costumes
- prostitute jelly
- tinder gems
- hookers
- clothes and underwear and condoms
- lubricants – for the car (dirty bird)
- carpenter hammers
- baseball bats
- metal pipes and chains
- welding supplies
- dynamite
- fishing poles
- archery kit
- bb guns
- tents
- water
- cake mix
- flour and rice
- orange juice
- bacon
- gasoline
- ammo
- bottle rockets
- pianos