Category: Planetary Status Reports

Heralded as the savior, the ONE that would come to release the great POWER and soothe the world, TEEVUSS made his way to S’compton to meet with the town elders.

For 400 years the people of GRINKEN TOWN and S’COMPTON had been at war over the hooker choices and gold teeth piled high by the Jesuits. There were abattoirs scattered throughout the realm, working 24/7, to liberate old “billy boys” from their own cast away sin. TEEVUSS knew these were the scored ones, set aside by JOOB for sacrifice and fury.

In the realm there were cantor-apes looking for applejack and corn cider. They had the women from WOOKIE-VILLE on their side, and were armed with MAC-10 SMGs and shoulder fired pulse cannons. Kennedy skeebs were still milling about near Boston and the old hag was still in charge. TEEVUSS understood the risks, but he was the schism hero, and his juice would free the world.

The town elders were gathered near the SQUELL PITS on the edge of S’compton. Tarkey-miners were given the day off, and relentless squirrel herders brought the meat paste in for the day. They drank fermented scrub goo and consumed frell-sausage and yulu-scallops.

You sat down next to those old freaks, and you felt the power of the 10,000 year alliance that ended the 48th War of Retribution between the SKLAG-RULE and the DORGUS FREAKS. Each one of them had lived to be over 100 years old, and had liver sores and pastry eyes and scrinkle skin … they were carried about on beds, and their fluids were replaced daily.

TEEVUSS presented his case:

We gotta shut down the hooker palaces ...
We gotta build factories so that our people can make shoes ...
We need a laser grid to destroy the FROGLON-MEEGS of Grinken Town, and to provide for them an existentially holistic anal frag experience ...

Sure, we could wait until the vampire knights of sector-CHARLIE return with fruit-canon and old mold wine. But now is NOT the time to think of festivals and weddings and indoor plumbing ...

It would be nice to have a bathroom, where you could privately sit down and pop a squat and shoot out the brown dragon and unleash copper eyed joe. The times when you have a large, girthy, scrapy poop, easy its impacted way out of the anal scrunctous zone, equally poop baby status as it reaches full term. But I digress ...

If the TRAG HORDE reaches Grinken Town and joins forces with the FROGLON turds then we're DONE ... we can forget about our busty women and our tacos and our craft beer.

So let's get to those canon, m'kay ...

Teevuss finished his presentation, and awaited the elder’s response.

Teevuss went to the wench cabins off of Toops Street, and ate sidewalk oyster, and lived high on the hog from toothpaste whiskey and kelley’s squire sauce.

After 3 days of review, the elders returned a response:

Your presentation was adequate, as that you're 2nd Level Minctus Type, and likely your brain is inflamed with syphilis ...

However ...

We cannot authorize the building of laser canons right now, we can barely feed the old-breeders in grid-8 ... and there's already roving cannibal hordes in grid-12.

We cannot authorize the forming of GRUG TEAMS, because the babies need medicine and the women need clothes ... It's all squalor and low rent sex problems and prostitution and so much more ... a sweaty, moist, creamy space for kline-spice dreamers, and nasty hoods with dirty hands.

We cannot talk of pulse canons and figger-mines and shoulder fired neutron pipe bombs - all of these are great, but there's no money, no cash ...

We raised the "debt ceiling", but it turns out hanging rich people from a greater height makes no difference with the change in their pockets ...

So go forth TEEVUSS, and unleash your rod among the pleasure palaces and enjoy the wines of S'compton, but then go home ...

You are no longer welcome.

Teevuss left the elders, and returned to Helga, the furst-maiden and oil gatherer. He insuckulated her boovula and squeezed her titties …

And he forgot the armies forming in Grinken Town …

He forgot the coming of a blood moon.

He forgot the skogg-witches that haunted him …

And he left.

THE END

“There is a hyper vacuum, a super emptiness. Using massively pulsed super magnets, we can stretch the vacuum beyond earthly limits”, pondered Kepler Daniels.

A spider had nested in his ounce of premium SATIVA MAGIC TIME HYBRID flower, and thus there were all these tiny red spiders running around, and Kepler didn’t notice. He just tossed some of that sweetness into his grinder, then into his VOLCANO.

Amidst the glow of his lab equipment, he snuffed in that spider-vape and a massive brain booger was born – an inspiration: XECTOR SPACE / ZECTOR SPACE …

What if the vacuum itself, pure space, is as poorly understood as zero point temperatures, or the core of the sun?

What if the vacuum of nearby space isn’t nearly as empty as supposed?

What if, using advanced materials and the engineering of pulsed magnetic fields, you could open up a HYPER VACUUM – a vacuum beyond what we currently consider empty?

One effect of a hyper vacuum envelope would be super-buoyancy, one could construct dirigible airships, eschewing the use of helium or hydrogen lifting gases, but instead use a vacuum ship envelope in a state of super-buoyancy to reach very high altitudes, perhaps up to 200K feet … a rocket gondola plus this vacuum buoyancy system would allow space craft to maneuver to altitude prior to turning on their rocket engine, and the same system could fold up, into the ship, like insect wings. This kind of system would allow exploration of the solar system, and enable low-velocity reentry techniques into the Earth’s atmosphere, opening the possibility of practical space mining. This would be BIG for space …

He called his experimental device the “lever”, in honor of Archimedes and his famous quote …

But in this case, the “lever” was a lightweight vacuum seal proof sack, in the shape of a sphere, with both elastic and vacuum seal capabilities, and hundreds of tiny magnets woven into the sack or sphere, all designed to create interacting pulsed waves. At start up, the “sack” is empty, vacuum removal of all gases. Then the magnets begin to pulse, and a structure of interacting magnetic fields provide structure that exerts force and transforms the sphere into a lightweight vacuum balloon that floats above the “lever” apparatus, chained to the floor.

For experiment 1, Kepler set the total charge to 2,000 VOLTS and adjusted the field propagation to 1.5VS – that’s one and a half times standard vacuum space …

The chain holding the lever’s sphere was also attached to a force meter, measuring torque and total lifting force or strain … surprisingly, the numbers indicated that the “lever” system was at half the strength of the chain – and the power was still below 20% …

Kepler did his next experiment at 3VS – three times vacuum space.

At 3VS the concrete foundation creaked, and the sphere expanded from a 3 foot diameter to 8 feet. The chain was still holding … but something peculiar began to appear on the voltmeter. Up until this point, the voltmeter indicated a standard drain of 12 volts from the power supply to the pulsed capacitance array and onward to the network of magnets woven into the vacuum safe material of the balloon or sphere. Now, at 3VS, it indicated a back charge, it seemed to be returning electrical power back to the system …

The final test/experiment would have the “lever” device set to 10VS. It was excessive and dangerous, and Kepler knew he was taking risks – but he needed to see what might be possible.

He had to move the apparatus outside, because at 10VS he estimated the sphere might have a diameter of 50 meters, and this would be too large, and would possess too much lifting buoyancy.

Kepler anchored the sphere to a 50 ton anchor, using high strength steel cable and several harness points, he did not expect the anchor to budge, but just in case he had an emergency cut off built into the energy transfer cable, powering the pulsed magnet array.

He planned on a night test, assuming it would be more inconspicuous, it seemed a reasonable assumption …

Kepler initiated this third test at 11 PM on a Wednesday night.

The sphere groaned as it expanded, making a low frequency humming noise which soon went away. As the “lever” reached 2VS there was a glow that began to emanate from the sphere, but “so far so good” … so Kepler proceeded to 3 VS, three times vacuum-space.

The anchor, a ship’s anchor from WW2, designed as an anchor for a battleship, began to move … it was barely noticeable, slow, and then the chain, the anchor, and the sphere began to glow blue … and even though Kepler lived in the country, the glow was beginning to illuminate the night sky … a glow that was stretching over the horizon.

Another curious thing: at this point Kepler decided to trigger the automatic cut off … nothing happened … his computer, which had been tracking power drain, showed a net CHARGE to 100% and then cut off of all charge from the system … this happened at 2VS.

The system, the sphere, was powering itself, and seemingly getting more and more power …

There had been theories, going around, about zero point energy – and for a long time it was pixie dust theoretical vapor ware bullshit …

But what Kepler was seeing looked like “energy from nothingness”, energy from that other place, beyond the veil …

A farmer from the down the road showed up with his wife and family, they were immediately drawn to the glowing blue orb, now untethered from power and slowly growing larger, and drifting higher … the anchor was now at tree top height, above the roof of Kepler’s barn.

“What is that thing?”, cried the farmer … and at that moment his son, daughter, and wife, who had moved too close to the object, were pulled on to it, absorbed into it …

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING!”, the farmer screamed, as he ran to save his kids and his wife, and he too was pulled up into that glowing blue orb.

Kepler drove his truck to the road, blocking it … turning on his emergency lights … hoping this would deter others …

He tried to think of doing something, but as the orb rose, as it grew larger, he could see that the vacuum impermeable envelope had been absorbed, the chain, and even the 50 ton anchor … all of it, sucked into, combined with, annihilated by that glowing blue orb, that was now hundreds of feet in diameter and almost a half a mile up … moving faster …

After about 20 minutes, the orb was high enough that it lit up most of the county and was nearing 30,000 feet in altitude …

Kepler was monitoring the “lever” with his telescope, never imagining this would be necessary …

And then, in an instant, the sphere was gone …

Police showed up to check on his neighbors, the “Browns”, and he didn’t have a good answer as to what happened – but there didn’t appear to be any foul play. After 4 hours of questioning, Kepler was released … no charges.

There were some newspaper people, bloggers, and others that showed up, but after about a month most people forgot … the whole event lasted about one hour … and in that sleepy county most were asleep when it happened.

Days went by … and people simply forgot.

Kepler continued to study the problem, but did no more experiments.

A few months after the event, Kepler began having nightmares … A strange entity, he could not see, named “ZIFTER” would lay behind him in bed and speak into his ear …

Kepler would see strange symbols, and then some voice would whisper “ZIFTER” …

“ZIFTER tu MORDELOS”, was spoken on multiple occasions …

Kepler had a friend who was a linguist, so he drew the symbol and wrote out the complete set of words the entity spoke …

“ZIFTER tu MORDELOS, nutous de, nutous bay, korno-fom …”

His friend, during some free time, traced down root words to Sumerian, Latin, Sanskrit and ancient Greek and Chinese. “It’s some kind of random word salad, it doesn’t mean anything …”

Kepler counted the triangles in the symbol: 3

Number of circles: 3

Vertical lines: 2

Horizontal lines: 1

Chevrons: 9

3219

None of this meant anything …

A few weeks after speaking to his academic friend, Kepler had another nightmare – but this one was more than words and a waking dream …

In his nightmare, Kepler was known as YOOG the lance hound, and he was the gatekeeper of XUUR. As the gatekeeper, he kept the sides separated, bounded only their nexus and unable to frequent outer zones or foreign lands. As the gatekeeper, Kepler would wander the 3 zones, with his 2 dogs, his one wife, and 9 children …

“YOURS ARE THE LATTER DAY CHILDREN, THEIR MINDS ARE FUSED.”

And then he woke up … sweaty … shaking.

The nightmares got worse and he began to see the farmer and his family in these dreams, these nightmares …

The farmer would use the motion of his hands to point out the crooked lines of the universe, his children, burned and mutilated, would sing off key a strange song … and the wife, dressed in white, wrote another symbol, in blood, upon the ground …

Kepler sequestered himself from the world, and began seeing a therapist.

He hoped it was merely a psychological break and not some worse scenario, related to the experiment. He was now haunted by that rising blue light and that dreadful night. He feared that somehow, someway, the government had discovered his work and was continuing his experiments …

Kepler was never a drinker, but he began, slowly, and then obsessively. He would wander the roads, drinking, and randomly muttering phrases, words …

One of the phrases was ZECTOR/XECTOR SPACE …

“This is the space between nothing and something. This SPACE was zero space removed, space outside …”

Kepler’s mood was morose and withdrawn, he stopped going to work, stopped checking messages or emails. He would just go on these long walks in the countryside, and lose track of time and place – he’d walk for hours and end up at some location, not fully understanding how he got there …

Then, one gray and confused mourning in February, Kepler stumbled upon a note, written by him, but not him … the handwriting was wrong … but it was his paper, his pen, it was him.

It read as follows:

KEBLOR:

XECTOR SPACE HAS BEEN BROKEN!

Previous epochs of human experience are no longer applicable to REND-YOO-CYCLES. The crevice was created to hide a secret, but the space is no longer there. Pulling the insides out you can remember that your slug people came forth in the time of boiling lands and somber winds. A great rain ushered forth your people from that morass that once stayed dead.

KEEP YOUR WORDS CLEAN ...

Amidst this torrid disturbance, the sector-12 security forces have been called up, all 9 level ether riders are being re-routed to fill holes in sectors 4 and 77.

You were meant to be damned, but no one came to take you away.

You were meant to be destroyed, but no one came to shoot you in the head.

You were meant to HIDE, so where does this bravado come from.

T'LEEG HEG TOYO, T'LEEG HEG ORY is the BATTLE CRY NOW!

And FLOWER MADNESS among the theater is visible.

You are now gone.

- ZIFTER

Kepler knew keeb-realm stoobers were headed his way. He had been on the run, with his wife and 9 kids, since the transcendental freaks of the fourth pyramid began their rule and sent forth the MOON HOUNDS to chase down all gatekeepers.

In the storm bent times, KEBLOR could be seen in those mountains, in parley with the cave-apes and dormant sand-bats. His fire ran deep and true, and the EYE of CREATION stood guard, overhead, in blue …

Barret Timms, the last of the lance-trollers, considered KEBLOR his friend, but he coveted his dogs and his children and his wife …

So BARRET hid near the trelter kingdom …

Barret burned the third ugliness into his heart …

And the farmer was sent to HELL.

And his children were divvied up among the ghosts.

1. Charlie went to HEEBUZZ, and to dwell among JORGLING FOLK in the caves of HOOG.
2. James went to Urial, the dead-slect, leader of the fringe barbers, waiting for the new Moon.
3. Mary was to be given to EEG and her flesh cauldron, lording over the lost children of the sunder-world.
4. Jill came late to the party, and was taken to the silver-god Jaden, and to sojourn with the mist beetles.
5. Harold was kept by Pug-spleen, and told the tales of 7/11 gropers and the second removal.
6. Kirk was taken by DESTRA and held in a prison 45 light years from Earth.
7. Hannah ended up with VIRGEN the ROLLER-BANE, who rules over the gas-merchants and deegen-priests.
8. Jed was left with the Lord of the Dead, and it is said he watches you even now.
9. Marty left the party, as the dell breath wafted about and the wookie master glared at the RED SUN.

And this was XECTOR SPACE, broken from ZIFTER to the time of REVELATION.

Each god would have his own home in the wall.

And ever wall would have a crack or hole or crevice …

And in the stains and chipped paint, hiding in those worlds, are the stolen and lost children.

In the stains is the BEAST that is always lurking.

In the scars of the world, lay a never slain fear.

THE END

The great commune will be filled with love. Love-juice will spring forth from each Slavic hooker as Che spice fills the air and Trotskyite fur merchants sell coke to Sally Jesse Rafael. And after the 44th War of Immensity the STAR CHILDREN will return to harvest the scuzz-ruddle.

The GREAT COMMUNE built potato guns to fire a missile to the Moon, sending spew-funk to the edge of the universe and leaving Kubrick a way out. J-HAWK masters massaged the wooden staff and brought forth hydrazine for the making. And the engine glowed red then white hot, love hot.

THE GREAT COMMUNE will have a 24/7 salad bar, the freaks will hangout all night drinking and shoving kale down their throats and talking about the proletariat. The TRADE REPS will squabble about their “steel to sugar” ratios, as the diabetes eats away at their brains and their souls ooze away into the storm drains. The waitress will refill your basket of cheese-bread and clean the vomit off of the sneeze guard. And tickler-spen critters will break down the droppings that fall easily from each chair, through a hole in the bottom.

The GREAT COMMUNE built a STAR CRUISER called the MONESTRA and she was big and bold and covered in glass. She had copper tube engines and asbestos filter life support, her two stroke uranium engines emitted a stink-color-green and caused the itchy tumors. Sig-sect dealers would trade their banjo spice for a ride on this great SPACE BATTLESHIP, but nobody made it past the abandoned factory where she lay. Just eggs for gray clatter squid and the monthlies checked in early for the booby girls.

My commune leader gave me permission to leave the compound and forage for brazzle-berries and gabe-fruit. I found a lost jib, and removed its skin to inculcate the untoward British crone. Skizzy, my ass mistress, went to town – opening four toenail parlors outside of Brooklyn Heights. The submarine fleet monitored our wanderings, and we finished the day sunbathing near the reactors.

THE GREAT COMMUNE will use snig-niggets for most work – these are dwarfs and midgets that are bred to clean homes and take care of toilet grease and scrape away the dried urine. They would work the fields and pull the comrades about on a rickshaw. When the midgets get too old they are fed to the wild pigs and then the pigs are slaughtered because you can make a great BACON with them … seasoned.

You spend time in the COMMUNE meeting the phone booth cadres covered in mongoose stock and regal splendor. Your DICK HEAD BOSS is COMMISSAR FRED and his new boss just won the Worker’s Award for Total Dedication. You grabbed a spazz nugget from Michael, and sought after the fire burdens of TOOLEY and BRIM. The food that is fed to you comes from the abandoned stadium, and old hot dog chunks keep you company by the gallows.

The great commune has:

1. free body flushing
2. enemas
3. scoob-slice pizza
4. jindo-nurses
5. hot cider Tuesday
6. wooden princes
7. log cabin heroes
8. tomato sausage
9. color TV
10. mudflats
11. forbidden pastures

And so we return home again, to the COMMUNE.

THE GREAT COMMUNE.

Our last bastion …

Our only hope.

You think your AR-15 is gonna SAVE YOU, do YA?

… like it’s the CIVIL WAR and crap?

You sit there in your wall to wall carpeted condo, snorting axle-dust and beating off to 2 LIVE CREW music. You have black-light posters of Black Sabbath and talk up the GOOD GAME of “bunkers” and “hooker harems” and stockpiles of MOUNTAIN DEW CODE RED. Your chili-cracker hideout has already been targeted by KING JUSSAR and the GENERAL is sending a missile your way … and you think that AR-15 is gonna save you?

You think that GUN protects your kids?

There of mug-night scum that wander S’compton and nearby and wait for you and your slut wife to go to sleep. They have bats and chain and lead pipes, they slunk about half naked and high on PCP and KROKODIL and METH. Their teeth are red and yellow with the still wet grizzle of some tough customer they had to take out behind the Wendy’s … Your kids will be hunted, as you sleep with your AMBIEN whore, and they will be shipped to Saudi Arabia and turned into WHITE SLAVE CATAMITE FREAKS … and your gun didn’t stop those gypsies, it just made them lustier, angrier, wrathful and overwrought.

You just bought a flamethrower?

What are you going to do with that flamethrower?

You think you’re tough enough to take on the WHOLE 82nd AIRBORNE DIVISION with that one flamethrower?

Brumble-beasts will saunter their way to your humble abode, releasing the stench of your GUNS and KNIVES and FLAMETHROWERS. Your kids and family trusted you to protect them, and you bragged and bragged about your precious flamethrower. You told TODD, your neighbor, “hey man, I got this basement of food and ammo and AR-15s … and now I got this flamethrower man …”. Todd’s family began starving first, and Todd would come by, awkwardly, begging for his family – and you would, politely, turn him down … Sure, you stand watch with your .357 RUGER REDHAWK, and your flamethrower nearby, but you need sleep, whiskey … Todd comes by one night when you’re passed out on the couch and brains you with that award you won for teamwork and then he ties up your wife and kids … steals your food … ammo … flamethrower … and burns your house down …

Are you SURE that AR-15 is gonna help you?

You’re being chased by TEAM X-RAY, the most advanced United Nations special ops team. They’ve tracked your truck to REALM 77ROMEO and plan on dropping a mini-nuke on your position. They have shoulder fired nukes, 1KT yield, capable of taking out a whole city block man … and they’re coming for you. They have neutron bomb hand grenades they’re gonna shove up your butt, and then toss your ass over the cliff … and below, as you smash upon the rocks, you’ll see your BLACK RIFLE, your AR that’s been chambered for .300 WIN MAG and has that slick polymer stock … that’s the last thing you see …

You THINK that SUV is gonna SAVE YOU?

You and your family are huddled in some WINNEBAGO being driven by William Shatner, chased across the desert by warlocks and witches and Satanists and KELMO-DOOGS. And they ride hard with their feisty gaze and seek to set fire to your bitches and your blow. What? You think your off road vehicle is gonna help you now? You gonna “put her in low” and power up that hill up yonder? What the fuck dude … YOU ARE DOOMED … YOU DOOMED YOUR FAMILY … all for your SUV …

You think that pilot’s license is enough?

You think people will just be LINED UP or FORMED UP in squares and phalanxes and various impostures of cubes and pyramids and triangles?

You think people will be formed up into trapezoids? DO YOU? LIKE YOU’RE MOTHER FUCKING GENERAL SHERMAN MARCHING ON TOKYO!?!

You gonna load up your CESSNA with molotov cocktails and cigarette booty?

You gonna ride down them FEDS with your propeller driven demon, you painted it woodland loam for some reason, but it won’t matter when the USMC pulse cannon takes you out of the SKY!

You really think that AR-15 is gonna do ANYTHING?

When those BLUE BLOOD PURPLE HAIRS come with their TECH and TANKS and PREDATOR drones to shove a hellfire up yer butt and watch your neighborhood glow WHITE HOT with phosphorous bombs and belly shaped dream winkles … what ya gonna do?

You think this will be like the last time …

This time they’ll have CAPTAIN AVATAR and his WAVE MOTION GUN and you won’t be able to resist the GREAT POWER of the STAR FORCE as they shove the ARGO in your fat face …

(you feel me)