I’ve just created a new occupation: pharmaceutical sales rep AND flight attendant.
Getting treatments for my splinctus, preparing for my own unraveling … the groglion-zone is filled with blymph … my thyroid-degenerator-tone is off kilter … it’s bad
I’m back to wrestling coyotes for 50 cents a day … I live in a complex near Vernal, called the Grinken Arms … my girlfriend, Jadie, has crabs …
I was contacted by Zim, the 3rd Resupplicant Gunt-Herder, and he let me know it was my job to form a temple, at the burial ground in Scompton, and to charge people fees for salvation … no money? – no heaven … like the “wealth and abundance” preachers …
A few weeks ago I was hiking in the Uinta Mountains. I came across the scat or sign of a wookie creature. I tracked that smelly mongrel beast to the edge of the Dingy Forest, not far from Shligdon, which is where the Mormons killed them other Mormons to cover up the truth about the death of Joseph Smith.
I’m researching that PHIL DONAHUE EPISODE that was DESTROYED back in the 1980’s concerning Procter and Gamble and their corporate satanism.
I wander the fields, dreaming of wanderers, wandering fields …
Sit down in your quiet space, in a comfortable chair, and imagine a world: a world full of magic and life and consciousness and people … of lands, fields, cities … of all possibility.
In that world, there is a person, in a quiet room, imagining a world … and in their world there is a person, imagining worlds …
MIND BREAKS
Weird …
“Trust: something a hooker uses to clean our her boovula.” – Dr. Freckles … do you know me? Do I know you? This idea of 3rd parties verifying relationships? – it was never going to work. Problem with crypto: it pretends it supports peer-to-peer transactions, but in reality it is a 3rd party trust platform … and sorry … no amount of tech fixes the asshole problem.
not FUCK, but fuh-luh-luh-luh … YOU
“Every city has a strip club.” – Dr. Freckles
There’s 100K tons of gold in the mountains of NE Utah …
Reality is only real because there is a God that makes it so …
Please donate money to my Seattle-Cocaine-Fund … or SCF … I also need to renew my Bluehost sub … fuh-luh-luh-luh’ker …
“If you are still worried about the debt, inflation, muh oil? – you are not remotely prepared for what is coming.” – Dr. Freckles
New product “seems just like a pandemic” … JUST LIKE A PANDEMIC, as seen on TV … available NOW at WALMART … just in time for CHRISTMAS …
I don’t expect anyone to contribute to my poorly planned and self injurious behaviors …
However …
I am heading back to Seattle soon and I need to raise money for cocaine. I will not drive a vehicle or operate heavy equipment. I will, maybe, podcast … who knows … but I NEED IT!
So, if you’re “cool”, get me some cocaine money …
You don’t have to …
But it would be great to do a little coke before this world is broke, for good.
HOW:
get some cash, about $1,000 bucks my man
go down to Pioneer Square, in Seattle
find Scrumbly-Bear, the NO. 1 dealer down there …
ask Scrumbly for 2 or 3 8 balls of HIGH QUALITY COKE …
take coke home and just start snorting that shit
maybe I start dialing numbers of old high school friends … I’m 52.
(but maybe I’ll just use the money for food and beer and weed, amirite?)
Very close to calling BULLSHIT …
I’m not that far from calling bullshit on the UKRAINE WAR. It seems the main purpose of this “war” is to block arctic researchers from reporting on the true state of the arctic ocean, specifically the ice extent and the monitoring of methane release.
The best move, as of YESTERDAY, for Russia is to first strike NATO forces. Longer Putin waits, the closer he gets to the same fate as Khadaffi …
MAD or Mutual Assured Destruction does NOT apply to scenarios where:
multiple and separate conflict zones with belligerents possessing nuclear weapons.
where more than one belligerent can be considered mentally incompetent or insane.
China/Russia would be best served by a strategic first strike, no notice, against key command and control in the USA. Using swarm EMP attacks to take out civilian command and control. They wouldn’t invade, they would simply wait for the “next asshole” in line to begin a process of rational conversation.
In this scenario? – WA DC is toast. Probably NORAD in Colorado as well, and many other command and control bunkers. Perhaps they will selectively NOT target certain bunkers, thereby “selecting” who they will negotiate with.
THE BIG SPACE FUCK! (from 3/13/2021)
I do not believe we EVER LANDED ONE FUCKING PERSON on the Moon.
The last time a human left low Earth orbit? – 1972 … I was a couple years old … with all the techno-babble optimism being ladled on me since the 1990’s? – seems like Moore’s Law does NOT apply here … need not apply, amirite?
The total number of people who have been to “space”? – about 600. About 116 billion people have EVER LIVED. That means that the naive likelihood of “space” for any given human is the tiniest fraction of a percent. See image below. Even if you restrict it to the number of people since 1945? – the percent is still very very small … so small a chance, that a rational person applying the rules of betting might say … it never happened or happens.
I believe there’s a good chance that when they say “people by 2024”, they are telegraphing that the “show” will be over long before then … whatever is coming? – we will be too busy trying to survive, best case scenario, to care about this bullshit.
“Something that rarely happens according to data, and seems absurdly impossible? – might be impossible.” – Dr. Freckles
Starting out in Roosevelt, Utah. Being fed some story about lost Mormon gold some place up there, in them there Uintas Mountains … An old drunk named Nathan, who lives off of Main Street in an old trailer, tells ya “I’ll give you the map to Brigham Young’s lost gold if you buy me a pack of cigarettes …”, and you buy that nasty old bum some cigs …
I walked with the bum, back to his trailer, after I got him some cigs at CHEVRON. He started telling me about his ex-wife, and her pimp boyfriend, and her hooker-crabs … it was sad … all I wanted was the gold.
“You know that gold is guarded by the wookie people, and the indians, and the skin walkers and aliens … that gold is special … no one gets it, unless they want death”, the creepy old drunk left me with these prescient words and morbid thoughts.
That old hobo said I needed to start “here in Roosevelt”, for some wicked and sublime reason that he wouldn’t even describe for fear of being possessed by the skin walker demons at city hall. “The whole government of Roosevelt, Duchesne, Vernal, ALL FUCKING SKIN WALKERS … all of them …” But I was undeterred.
I packed up the necessary items into backpack, and loaded up my truck. The following was a recommended packing list:
12 gauge, semi-auto, 7 in 1, Mossberg tactical shotgun
200 rounds of buckshot, 200 rounds of slug ammo …
12 days of food, rice, turmeric, onions and eggs … potatoes and scroblin-protein
Munctis Oil from hooker avenue in SLC …
Cold weather gear, high altitude oxygen climbing equipment, masks …
Proper hiking shoes with crampons available for rock climbing and descending into caves …
A hooker girlfriend, you lie to her, you say you’ll pay her $1,200 a night for mongo-sex, instead you were taking her up there for other reasons …
All the equipment the hooker girlfriend needs …
3 cases of WHISKEY …
9 cases of cheap Mexican beer
23 boxes of CAMEL cigarettes
A portable espresso machine
Cocaine, a lot of cocaine …
LSD and SHROOMS …
A tent and a bed and maybe some condoms …
A portable shortwave transceiver, with antenna system … for emergency contacts …
12 guage semi-auto shot gun, with 20 rounds of buckshot and 10 rounds of slug …
I went to Vernal to pick up a hooker, “Sheila”, and then made my way to the first way point on the journey: Uinta Canyon Road and the Uinta River as it flows down from them there mountains …
“I thought we were heading to SLC”, Sheila commented as we parked the truck and hit the trails … we loaded up a cart to carry extra equipment and Sheila wore a harness to pull the cart. Sheila was strung out on METH and HEROIN so I needed to give her some cocaine, as a reward for her labor, about every 2 miles of the hike.
Nearing next way point, a saddle off of Mt. Emmons near the peak, Sheila spotted a hot spring … the woods were deserted and it was late Autumn. The streets had been hard on Sheila, but she was comely, and had nice boobs. She took the straps off, and left the cart by the trail. I simply stood there and watched as Sheila went down to the hot spring and began undressing. She pulled glimpset-oil from her backpack, and began rubbing her orbs and caressing her boovula. She did this for 30 minutes, and I sat nearby and drank whiskey.
We got back on the trail, and after 45 more minutes of hiking we found a nice spot to set up camp. We set up our tents, and laid out our sleeping bags. We made munsket-meat and grumble stew by the fire, we cooked Cajun style beast-bread and then the heavy petting began. She demanded I use tent spikes and 5-50 cord, I demanded she shut up … I wasn’t interested in her opinion.
The next morning we woke with the crack of dawn, orange light breaking through the tent and illuminating Sheila’s half naked body – her torso and head sticking out of the sleeping bag, her breasts firm and supple, her nipples hard and protruding. I woke up and my man tube was “ready for action”, so we spent some more time in that tent, playing little games, lathering each other in love greases and spunk-flesh …
At around noon, we were back on the trail … we needed to make our way to a spot near King’s Peak, but the hike would be over broken country, and the carts would be harder to pull. Sheila was smiling, and seemed like she’d forgotten she was a hooker, just a week ago servicing some “elders” from Park City. She was seeing something new, something fresh. She’d lived in Utah her whole life, and NEVER spent any time in the mountains, camping. She could pretend she was a different person, and this was liberating.
We came across an abandoned cabin near Lake Atwood, and that’s where we decided to cache some of our gear, extra water, and some other emergency equipment plus the carts. For the next leg of the journey we would only take essentials: one tent, one extra-large sleeping bag, condoms and sexual oils, food, high altitude breathing equipment, rock climbing gear … and of course, whiskey, 2 bottles.
We were able to make camp on the side of King’s Peak, and planned out our next leg. We were getting close to that place where “the great riches” will be made plain. I didn’t know if that old drunk was crazy, but I knew I wanted to believe the story …
At the campsite that night, Sheila and I ungroobulated ourselves in the woods – wandering the nearby brush naked, making love like wolf-eagles and coyote-bears.
We fell asleep, in each other’s arms, in that cold weather sleeping bag near the fire.
We woke a few times, early in the morning, to the noise of WOOKIES and other injun spirits approaching our campsite. Sheila heard the noises, and clung to me, her naked body pressed up against mine – I had the shotgun in arms reach, so I was ready for action.
The next day we made an early start. I’d brought some eggs with me, and was saving them for that morning. I made a scramble of eggs and potatoes and bacon, we mixed the last remaining whiskey into our coffee and rested by the fire, pondering what was to come …
“My mom … she read palms …”
“What?”
“My mother, she was a Mexican gypsy and she would read your palms and use tarot cards and make predictions using tea leaves …”
“So what …”
“I feel like something bad is gonna happen …”
“Nah … we’re a day away from being rich …”
Sheila shook her head, smiled, and flipped me off …
We were heading to our next stop, a couple of lakes near Red Castle. The ground was rocky and the air was filled with geoengineering gumptous and flavor crystals. The Wookies howled, as the sky hawks and border beasts screamed, howled. A blizzard was closing in, not a real one mind you – something brought to you by Raytheon. But the fake blizzards were more unpredictable, more dangerous, so many dying, freezing to death, in the grips of a chemical ice nucleation bombing run.
“It’s getting cold and hard to breathe”, Sheila looked at me, anoxic, lips blue. I took the breathing equipment from my pack and put it on her. I saving my unit for later, and I didn’t care …. as I told my friends at the Hilltop Bar last week in Ballard: “we’re all dying, the world is dying … nothing we can do … but at least I can buy my ranch, get my cabin, and live out my days in peace.” I was pretty drunk, and my friends were drunker – they didn’t know what the fuck I was talking about.
We made it to a spot near Red Castle Lake, and set up camp. Sheila undressed herself and bathed in those frigid waters, washing her body, shivering and writing with soap dripping off her breasts. I made a big fire, and we placed the tent close – but not too close.
The next day would decide everything …
The next day we would have a reckoning …
The next morning we took only our short range hiking gear. We left our backpacks and other equipment hanging from some trees and then set off on the trail. We hung up our spare equipment to avoid bear encounters and to dissuade the wookies from stealing from us. Big Foot, Sasquatch, wookie? – they go by many names, but all are filthy thieves.
We walked along the trail, to the spot indicated on the map by the old bum …
He scribbled something there, and I had ignored it until now – “shamanic gateway”. I had ignored it for the same reason I mocked Sheila when she was talking about her mom – I don’t buy into that crap, the supernatural, the occult, the hidden world? – fuck that. I believe in things I can see and things that will give me cancer, I believe in sex with a hooker, but that doesn’t mean I believe in a hooker surprise. No “Pretty Woman” Julia Roberts for me … I wasn’t dumb, I was simply jaded.
The hike should have been complete in 2 hours, but by the 4th hour the sun was rising high in the sky and our water was running low …
“Do you think there’s a stream or sumthin … up there?”, Sheila wondered. She was thirsty and hungry and tired. I had rode her hard each night, and she’d had barely any sleep at all. It was a wonder she was doing so well, but then I had a magic trick: cocaine. I brought enough cocaine to keep her straight, enough to keep her going. She lived her live like a lit cigarette, and she didn’t care when that light went out as long as SHE was smoking it …
My watch read 7 PM, but the sun seemed like it was in the sky and indicated just after noon, maybe 2 PM. The sun should be going down, but instead it kept getting warmer, and the air became easier to breathe … as if we’d descended to sea level.
“I’m really thirsty man”, Sheila complained. I knew she was nearing her breaking point.
“We’ll hike for another hour and then turn back.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, we can try again in the morning …”
Continuing on the trail for 25 minutes, we saw something …
“What’s that?”
“I dunno …”
It was a bright red light, brighter than the sun that was still above despite the time being 10 PM on my watch.
We inched our ways closer and then we both stopped … because the light kept coming …
Within seconds the light was in front of us, and it wasn’t a light at all …
From the light a body emanated, and a voice spoke out:
“I am Yoron, the nephite, the last of trungis-sklurgs … I stand guard at this portal to prevent the destruction of the NEW JERUSALEM … when the tribes of Joseph Smith made it here, they split into different groups: some went to SLC to establish a ‘proper church’ … some went into the desert to practice eldritch sexual rituals and other kinds of blood magic and abuse … but a third group, led by Nathan Daggs, followed a map … a map given to Nathan by Joseph Smith, before Smith was assassinated by Brigham Young … I stand guard and prevent the evil ones, the outsiders, the whores and vagabonds and other land-volk, from getting to the NEW JERUSALEM within the portal … you must go …”
I just stood there … gobsmacked … dumbstruck …
Sheila sat down, and just looked, stared, at the rocks … She’d wanted to make a few bucks, maybe have a good time. I’d given her the rest of the cocaine, and she’d put most of it up her nose. But it seemed, in her crestfallen state, no amount of cocaine would help.
After a few minutes, I decided to take action …
I pulled out my shotgun and began shooting at Yoron. Yoron, using special BRUCE LEE style moves, deflected my buckshot and slugs … Yoron grabbed the shotgun and broke it in half …
“YOU HAVE TEMPTED THE ANCIENT CHERUBS OF ALL CELESTIAL REALMS”, Yoran, with arm outstretched, sent a fiery pulse of energy my way … it bounced off of some obsidian stone and ended up hitting Sheila … she quickly caught fire, it was at least brutally swift and she didn’t apparently suffer … but still … he burnt her to a crisp … this was also sad.
He shot a light beam at my head … and I didn’t catch fire, but I did lose consciousness. I might have been dead … I might never know.
I don’t know what happened, I awoke, with a headache, back at my truck. Sheila was gone. She’d lived that life and burnt for it, but why did that nephite spare me? I was the scum … I was the man going to them there hills to steal their fucking gold … I wondered why he killed Sheila …
I drove back to the Hilltop Tavern, I told “Old Buck” at the bar the story …
Some rough notes on Bruce Willis, Aphasia and Weather Control …
So I now have a plausible explanation for the last decade of Bruce Willis films, most notably: BREACH (which was terrible). It seems that Mr. Willis may have a degenerative brain disorder called aphasia, if so this would make being in film rather difficult – except in a highly managed and compartmentalized way. That would mean controlled scenes, a lot of edit-in work, and frankly turning what would be, normally, cameo appearances into feature roles.
But … I must caution you.
I don’t know how much of ANY OF THIS is true – it’s possible it’s all true, it’s possible that it’s cover for something else. We live in an age of lies, deception … so do your own thinking regarding this story …
The cause of the aphasia, in Bruce’s case, has not been revealed yet.
Theory (not totally original):
Increasing rates of degenerative tissue and specifically degenerative brain disorders may be connected to the use of certain chemical compounds, aluminum-oxide being one, that are currently being used to impact climactic patterns and the weather.
I believe, based upon what I was taught as an air defense officer in the US Army, and based upon my own observations, that whatever is causing the patterns that are observable, in the sky, prior to a significant weather change, are not contrails. I cannot be certain what they are …
My view is not original, but is one of many perspectives – probably the best documented source for this topic is GeoEngineeringWatch.org. Dane Wigington runs the site, and has been an activist, trying to raise awareness, for about 2 decades. I don’t know if he is real or not, I don’t know if he’s a “sheep dog” in PSYOP/propaganda terms. He seems to be sincere and well documented in his position – but these days, it’s hard to know. Hard to know who is really who they say they are …
Here is a good article to read, but I will leave it up to you to do further research … Bottom line: if the US government is involved in covert climate/weather control, it is unlikely they would show any more concern or be more circumspect than they have been regarding other activities – like covertly exposing US citizens to radiological and biological hazards, on purpose, during the Cold War, in order to study their effects.
I have an uncle who recently died of dementia, and as with cancer: I’m knowing more and more people at younger ages who exhibit brain deterioration symptoms.
Bruce was/is a traveler, jet setter. My uncle traveled a lot. According to one theory, the male brain is less able to effectively prevent toxic exposure than the female brain, so you’d expect to see more of this in men than women.
But another impact of this poisoning from the sky is increased cancer rates … so every gender gets something …
One more thing: if the US government is covertly using nano-scale substances to impact climate and weather, then there is a high likelihood that this material is in EVERYTHING … food, water, in addition to air … it would accumulate in the body over time, flying frequently would only increase and concentrate exposure, since the air you are breathing on the plane is coming from the outside, where the spraying is happening … and planes fly through this polluted air, continuously.
And another final thought: what if the separate “systems” operating on planet Earth are not disconnected, but rather integrated. Which means: if the US government is “messing with the climate”, is it possible they are also impacting geological activity? Perhaps the same technology, like HAARP, which is being used (supposedly) for weather/climate control has other purposes, like directing waves of radio energy to key tectonic regions, causing earthquakes, eruptions, tsunamis.
And a super dooper final thought: there’s been some references to “Dark Winter”, and it makes me wonder if in the final stages of geoengineering, will they use so much material that they trigger immediate toxic reactions, like some old man or woman walking down the streets of Wuhan, and just falling over, dead … China has had a recent history of weather engineering mishaps, what if they used “too much” in 2019/2020 and the “Monkey Herpes” psyop was designed to cover this and other nation’s increasing geoengineering activities.
– Time vs Money: why I do what I do …. and why crypto turned me off early … I also believe that crypto is NOT the canary … more like the “swan song” … so precious time you could use to do actual things to protect your friends/family? – that’s wasted time … and the lights go out.
– BREAKING NEWS: BINANCE IS CONVINCING OTHER ASPERGERS CRYPTO FREAKS TO JUMP AT THE LAST MINUTE BEFORE THE CAREENING ELEVATOR CAR HITS THE GROUND … (and the chart reflects it)
– in 2017 when I worked on a crypto project, it became obvious to me that: a) the blockchain, mathematically, cannot scale and b) that most of the crypto freaks were really just looking for fast money …
– I remember attending the Startup-Societies Conference in 2017, and a LOT of crypto-barons were there … do you know what they spent most of their time talking about? – which one of their magical tokens would be chosen …. by the central banks … they always had an intention to fold into a CBDC regime, from the beginning
– when I tested bitcoin, I found that transactions less than$100 had non-deterministic behaviors in terms of both delivery AND the value delivered …
– very early on, after writing my own “white paper”, I realized the “coin” was not the first class citizen of commerce … it is the TRANSACTION … gold, corn, silver, oil, all of these are OBJECTS of the transaction … which also means: if your transactions are slow and non-deterministic? – no one will adopt. It also means that Bitcoin was ALWAYS focused on the wrong thing, ETHER as well and all the mutants.
– it’s clear that the blockchain is a forever ledger: only the IRS could love this
– when I confronted a crypto-evangelist about the behaviors of crypto, he said “well, you need to conduct business in exchanges …” … kind of like the twitter nurses in 2020 telling me to get on a ventilator because I had a cold
– who is this Satoshi? – when do they wheel out this freak?
– bitcoin was always a deep state scam
– the “blockchain” is a furnace designed to burn excess fiat
– the “crypto boom” was neo-Keynesian broken windows economics gone mad
– in order to solve some inherent flaws in crypto, “experts” in 2017 were telling people “well, you should use a network” or “use an exchange”, and then I asked them about the claims of no counterparty risk or third party dependencies? – and then their eyes glaze over
– USABLE … you want to sell something? Get people involved in something? YOU HAVE TO MAKE IT USABLE … it’s 2022 … what’s the excuse? … the reason why I refunded money for the RAD projects this year? – simple … the more I dug into JS8 Call, the more I tested it, the more bugs/problems I found … and the radios being used ARE NOT $50 subsidized “smart” phones … they are radios, the cheapest of which will cost you $200, and it’s up from there …
– is there some mysterious class of people “living their lives” with crypto? – sure … and I think Biosphere 2 was a success for a couple months too …
– history, as of right now, is ON cryptos side: as James Howard Kunstler pointed out in “Too Much Magic”, people need to believe these schemes, these technologies, will somehow, magically save “normality” … normal is over …. but crypto preys on this desire
Smart people …
“Let me tell you about ‘smart’ people: they get to the wrong answer faster.” – Dr. Freckles
What’s up with Bruce Willis?
A lot of films, in the last 10 years, have had Bruce Willis in them – but few of these films were any good …
A great example is “Breach”, which came out a couple of years ago …
I just watched “Reprisal”, and this movie seems to show case a slightly drunk Willis drawing on a white board … taking part half heartedly in some action scenes …
Robots took over at DAVIS … I know, it’s 2022 BOBLIMPTOCK … but they’re here now … and the staff are all “whatever” …
The drivers of those trucks want to kill you sometimes when you’re crossing the street …
I was thinking about a DAHMER network … all DAHMER movies or in the style of … there’ve been a few actors to play DAHMER so far, so get them in the lineup … Maybe get Ann Heche to do some promo work at the COMICON shit … but then I was thinking about this commercial for the MIKO robot, but how most kids the first thing they’re going to do is hack it so it says really racist crap like “that’s an n-word over there” … but then it was like, why not have a reality TV show where you have this remote controlled robot that goes around different neighborhoods and says really vile and racist crap … of course people will destroy it … that’s part of the fun … maybe you give it stink bombs … dog shit catapults … AND then … it’s like RINVOQ for ulcerative collitis … I don’t know if I have it, but I’m asking my doctor.
I was out for a walk with the dogs, as the sky-hawks sprayed their celestial poop upon us … and I could feel the graphene tendrils dig deeper into my soul and my skin crawled and the dog whispered bad thoughts into my head … “those people … over there … they don’t look quite right”, Boomer would say, and then lick his butt.
“Today I’m using Batiste …” … a couple hookers in Vegas, been there 6 months … used up and burnt out at 22 … the BATISTE keeps their whore lifestyle going … they will burn themselves out …
When I’m home for Thanksgiving, I’m going to tell them that I got into a fight at a bar in S’compton, and it’s because this weird guy didn’t look at me so good … and that made me angry and such … and it was “I’LL KILL YOU!” the way a Texas desperado says it, with emphasis … I killed him with a knife, I told the SOB I’d take his life.
Bryb (old english): the part of the goat, once slaughtered, that is LEAST desired … can be used as a noun or as a verb … To bryb is to re-boovulate a woman’s boovula, post coitus, using the Lentango-method and then to consume her inter-coital skunk juice …
Superannuated: obsolete through age or new technological or intellectual developments
Election Night Results: FL “Catastrophic” For Dems, Vance Takes OH, Fetterman Tops Oz … The Democrats declared VICTORY … yay … yay for victory. GOP took Florida? – but why …
Beer halls, cranes, airplanes, red squirrel gone bad, break the old man’s back …
Mark Zuckerberg To Fire 11,000 Meta Employees … he suggested they learn how to dig through dumpsters and wrestle coyotes for 50 cents a day … he suggested the women make themselves up and get ready to HOOK … to head for the streets and sell their stale pussy to JIMBO REAMS near the Tenderloin. He suggested the men become gay hookers and pimps as well, that they sell krokodil and heroin to school children … and to make sure that they hand out apples with razor blades in them … because ALL OF THIS would help.
STRONGO maidens are handing out flowers to the dustrin-teams.
Labour MP Diane Abbott Says Rape Of Teenage Boy At Refugee Hotel “Is What Happens When You Demonize Migrants” …
Janet Mange, carrier of dreebus-5-crabs, moves from bar to bar picking up men. She wears hot red lipstick and high heels and a pretty little baby doll dress that lets you see her panties … She’s HOT and ready … if she’s at the bar? – you better be ready …
You left your home for work. Your car was almost out of gas so you stop at the Union station to buy some … you grab a coke and a soup-grizzler and one of those hotdogs that sits there all day and marinates in the infinite pain … you get to work and Sarah calls you out in a meeting … you decide to kidnap her and sell her to the Albanians …
Swamp monkey ZED is almost dead, his people are hungry his world is RED, his mind is corroded, his wife is a skank, he drives to buy whiskey in a Sherman Tank. He keeps good hours, and waters the flowers, BUT DUGAN-ESQUE urinal tribes hunt after him and his kin .. what shall he do? – lose or win?
Hide and seek, dimension SILVER opens up, and the jordan-path for General TROG is no longer viable. Move slug-throw mungit whores to sector-78, while maintaining guard over the tribblin-droves.
Jewel thief is riding high near the 4th sphere …
Crystal realm music festival, the boobly dancers are on stage …
I need to imagineer my place a ZONE of total wellness, a nice cabin by a stream, somewhere not far from my true love, in a land of calm and peace and bacon and LOVE …
So I said to myself …
Go into a quiet room in your home, maybe bring a music player. Sit in the room quietly, listening to music or not, and imagine a world …
Imagine a world of mountains and trees …(3)
Imagine a world of oceans and space ships and planets far away … (2)
Imagine in that world there is a planet on the edge of the universe, and on that planet there is a man, in a room, imagining a world … and in his world there are cities and deserts and wide ranging plains … in one of those cities, in that new world, there is a person, in a room, imagining a world …
Go to the stream, the stream goes to the river, the river to the sea …
Go down to the stream, the one near your house … make a toy boat out of a single sheet of paper, place the boat in the stream, watch it float away. The boat will go to the river, and on the river the boat will learn patience and witchcraft. The boat will go down the river to the sea, and at the mouth of the river, the boat will fall in love and raise a family. The boat will make it to the sea, and on the waters of the GREAT SEA the boat will see the shore, the shore that touches the river, the river that touches the stream, the stream that flows home.
I have this 1975 FORD Galaxga in Jet Black, with a Driscoll-style floating cam and a 900 hp turbocharger with octo-nitrous injection … I’m selling it for 30 one ounce gold coins, we can meet, after midnight, over by the dump. The dump is not far from the old haunted cemetery, and this is not far from the Indian burial ground … This steed requires a true heart.
They’re launching missiles form out of Georgia over the Krasnodar into Ukraine …
Do you think if you’re living in Utah that the Mormons would turn-on the non-Mormons (like me) and toss us out into the streets? Maybe have us shipped to the Nalley’s Tamales factory near Cheyenne? (maybe …)
Mapleton, Arkansas, Silly Sauce Pizza …
You are the planet hurl, you are the cheese whiz girl … you are the female blink, I am the gorilla heap, you are my needle sheep, I am your broken Greek …
“You could use a helper”, that fucking lady said to the checkout girl, the one that is banging her husband … pregnant with that nasty woman’s husband’s checkout-girl baby …
The old man drove into the parking lot and wanted to kill me, the lady in the red car wanted me dead …
She was a cinnamon roll baby, looking for a coke-head man – her name was Krystal. She had dazzle and wazzle and lived down by the Catholic Church on 7th and Chestnut. A hungry troll named Bob would visit her, from time to time … he usually had fifty bucks for a “fast time charlie”, but Krystal could see he wanted something uglier, meaner … She lived on those streets for 20 years, ever since her parents sold her to gypsies. She would be the man’s 23rd victim, sometime in 2024.
Color: gold … find the golden path to the golden shower …
There are these dudes, these dudes that lived, in upper jab-man-stan, not far from tab-bli-stan …
George W. Bush had the answer … he was drinking with John Ritter in 2001 and told that GUY the “secret” … John Ritter told Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Phillip told Robin Williams, Robin told Anthony Bourdain … what was the secret? What were they told?
I went to see Dr. Chingles. He gave me a compress and a salve. He told me the eel pudding would clear up my sklink-sores, and that the worms in my heart were going to fart … the worms in my soul would come out in the bowl … but the three tumors in my EYE were going to fry.
CRAB NIGHT is the SOFT WIND NIGHT … without getting too gooey … CRAB NIGHT is when the butter flows, and the sumptuous anal minx seeks wayward ways in the curbside bar … She stuffs zucchini as far as it will go, she stretches it out, and is cursed by the blood moon.
The Keffleton Grizzly folk lived according to their wildlife ways, winter life, summer chode, and the grambling times when their loin greases flow and the icy hearts melt before a springtime jumblin-jo flower party.
Vietnam Gas Stations Start To Close Due To Widespread Shortages … old momma CHO has nowhere to go … old uncle HO will die in the snow, cocaine elephants moving their wares from one greasy hotel to the next … a ship, set sail from Hong Kong, sinks in the Yellow Sea, 8 people are lost, 77 people drown, the rest are saved by the wild elk of JAPAN.
Lemon spice wolf-poop ice cakes, tasty and healthy, for 6.95 … Cinnamon spice wolf-poop, lemon spice ice cakes, covered in pus, covered in scabs … coming from the labs, made for your grandma, ready for Christmas, ready for love …
A sexy monkey army is heading for TEXAS. The women are hairy conundrums, covered in lice and turnip scent. Their eyes are glassy and jaundiced and there was a certain forlorn and disturbed affect to it all … They were FIRST LEVEL priestesses, and their duty was to unguzzlelate themselves on the Golden Gate Bridge, as they writhe in their busty nakedness and the drivers going by toss onion rings and pizza sauce at them … It will be a March, and the Chinese satellite will crash near Hawaii.
Cathedral open for the groundskeeper and his family. Fire stoked for 34 days, and the hawk sits vigil waiting for the snail prince. Gundus, the mild-slog, washes out the sacred urn, and prepares the burnt offerings … all sins are forgiven, once the lamb cuts loose …
A fight will break out in Paris, France, between two clans. 76 will be injured, 23 killed … The patriarch of one family will use dynamite and molotov cocktails to set fire and destroy the family of his daughters lover … greed, revenge, race, love, God, all mixed up in this drama of great sadness and tragic loss … some of the bodies will be discovered in a river.
Dragon’s Mist, when the plane crosses the border and two bombs are released on the King. 2 generals are lost, and the 5th King of DOOMBAH is left to struggle against the fire eel people and the lost penguins of sector 901. And in the time of DROOSH, a scarlet curse is cast upon the elf mistress, and weedle-bugs feed on unburied corpses and a callous fog floats over the land …
Hooker-Silence is a new kind of space-juice. We simmer brown dwarf love piss until it boils at 9,000 times the temperature of the Sun’s core. We then add tachyon spice and the herb of lost black hole love gumptis … As the old monster-planet said, “the gas giant is a beast of destruction, the gases burn your private parts …”
A mother and her two sons are walking along a path in a woodland park. The sun is low, it is late afternoon on a January day. A sick man is tracking her, and her children. His name is Jonesy and his eyes are blue. He was recently released from prison and his hands shake. He will take the woman and her children, he will dump them in the canal.
Unicorn started from JORD, on its way it met the maiden Dora, she had 3 eyes and she guarded the water-features of K’LEB, where the wizards and goblins made their bets and wagered on the whiskey harlots and the spade-kings … All CHING-CHONG generals are accounted for, as the WAR of HOOX begins and the cancer spreads through S’compton.
Dinosaurs have been found on MARS … they drive electric cars, they vote for hookers to rule their lands, they build their castles upon the red sand … they grow fat and angry, looking towards the stars … in time they will visit their bellicose nature upon us, and tear up our lands with their dinosaur technology … FUCK: https://weeklyworldnews.com/topstory/56694/dinosaurs-found-on-mars-2/
“People Are Fed Up”: Soaring Electricity Bills Become New Pain Point For Biden … they are ANGRY and MAD and seeking gas-station style revenge. They are arming themselves with bats and chain … they are going insane, looking for a fast-way-out of this hell hole nightmare of old style grizzly-gus pizza and jello-soup pie …
Chezzler owned the corner store. He sold greaser-pies and snake eyes and pickled cat’s feet. He swindled and swirled, passing off crushed caffeine pills as cocaine. Some kids came in looking for food, they were hungry and angry – Chezzler lured them into his basement, and trapped them. What will he do?
Red, road, train, toy, fire, crystal, lake, missile, open water, large reservoir, a damn will break, a world will shake, the chemical plant will catch fire and the land will be poisoned.
All of my negativity is now yours, I give it to you … my burdens … my shit … my fears and regrets are all now YOURS … I transfer them to you using ancient shamanic practices and cheaply manufactured crack cocaine … but my stuff is now in your basement, it lurks there … it feeds on your dried beans and your rice … it nibbles on your MREs … all of my dark self is now yours, you own it … all of my demons chase you in the night.
Dog’s have built a cargo cult around sausage and bacon
Some kind of weird vibe is setting off the dogs
Munctus settled upon the basin, drinkus, like there will “snow” soon
Debris of Halloween still on the ground
Shoreline
Kelp forest
Black Sea
Cold Deep
Submarine battle
Space Cannon
Sector 3 is in trouble from LORD DUGAH
Chambers are closed to the stink ghost
Shaggy has this OCD thing about knowing where everyone is in the house … and then he mutters his shit …
Beethoven – Symphony No.7 in A major op.92 – II, Allegretto … if you want a good soundtrack for these days, these hours …
A ditch in Duchesne, where a body was found
Plane crash, 4 people die, 9 survive, somewhere in the mountains
Kettle Falls
The hunter is looking west to see the tribes, the elk and caribou and other land-crabs are hunting there meals for the suppertime feast
Ape space man coming with golden cures, earth woman readies her root cellar …
Turkey is something else, be careful
Read MICAH 5:2, and know the truth of the ancient times …
NING-GO is ruler of REALM-90, his D.J. skills are renown, his guards carry sky lasers
THRIGGIN HAWK flourish in the time of gumbo-grease and hooker-yeast. Make some spring rolls from that crap you find in the gutter near the whorehouse or the strip club … make some breakfast of pain.
Seattle lightning squad, carriers of herpes and pox, spreading their joy this holiday season, making merry down by the docks after work, drinking everclear and rubbing onions and butter on their junk …
A blue ring, with lights dancing around it, carrying power crystals to the FOUNTAIN, to drink the purest wine and squeeze the Charmin …
A dog is barking, he knows if he barks too much … CHARLES BARKELY appears and will kidnap the dog to the under-dog-underworld …
In the sky they paint these words, “in the breaking dawn, you will die”. and I mark the seconds till the coming morning, and think about the hookers I will FUCK … when the time of cocaine comes
NOD, the monk king, owner of all porno, led his swarthy men on a quest for SKY LOVE and kingsly brinkmanship and sword fights and black-knight style shivings … with hatchet, and hammer, he made love … ask PAUL … fucker.
Some weird people about, perhaps more witches from SLC
A dozen eggs is about $5.00 … for basic eggs … up to $7.00 for premium
If you can afford to donate, please do: I need to buy a lot of cocaine for my trip back to Seattle
Poison …
Are you feeling tired, distressed?
Do you have chest pains and bloody stool?
Do you leave a puddle of drool on your bed, a shame pond that haunts you in the morning time?
Is your wife or husband cheating on you?
Do you have terrible kids and dogs that do stupid shit and this infuriates you?
A lot of people have seen positive results trying POISON (xl).
It’s an extended release poison designed to help you deal with these common health and psychological problems caused from consuming too much POISON …
Disclaimer tho:
Don’t use poison if you are pregnant, trying to get pregnant, or while having sex in a car going 200 MPH.
If you have heart disease, cancer, liver disease, scabies, autoimmune, diabetes, COPD, or any other rudding issue that is rotting your insides and driving you crazy? – then poison might not be right for you.
If you are taking any other kinds of poison, you might not want to take poison.
Stop using poison if your eyes turn green or you get an uncontrollable twitch in your left eye.
If you are over 50 and are at risk for common over 50 shit? – you can take poison.
Poison is best taken while drinking or getting high on cocaine …
If poison isn’t working, you can try taking more poison …
Fuck you and eat your poison.
“What if there is no hammer?” – a potential, from The Matrix
I’m close to calling BS on two things:
– that Paul was injured at all
and linked
– that he had any “brain surgery”
This all looks like a COPS episode that never gets aired.
(same thing you’d find at any trailer park on Friday night)
The “hammer” part of this story is becoming progressively harder to believe … Depending on what kind of hammer, one whack would have knocked out Paul … probably killed him … So what? – limp wristed swing? (perhaps) Or, as stated, there was no “hammer” at all …
Here’s what MIGHT have happened:
someone who was part of the Pelosi security team OR security for a nearby residence believed something untoward was happening at the Pelosi residence. Could have been a private detective hired by Nancy or some other operative.
The cops show up, Paul is in his underwear, Depape is in his underwear, and they’re NOT cooking meth … so something weird is happening.
Cops manufacture story about a “hammer” and an injury … perhaps there was some kind of blood, on the scene, that could be used to do this.
The “brain surgery” was more bullshit to garner sympathy/support.
And MAYBE there was a “hammer”, but its purpose was as a prop, to be used in case the cops showed up to a Paul-Party and Paul needed a good alibi … “hey, that dude attacked me with a hammer …”
Depape, being a transient type gay hobo, will likely end up dead soon.
This is looking more and more like “The Jussie Smolett Story, Part 2: Old Dude Gay Sex” ..(and why not release the camera footage?)
“Let a liar talk long enough, he’ll speak the truth.” – Dr. Freckles
Sted Master Gurgen … (a lord of Boblimptock)
Following the 5th Atomic War, Fuer-Master Gurgen lay stricken on the battlefield. His urine was bloody and cold, his heart filled with monkey-mold. His mind a parasite village, a “head full of bees” as the old folks would say … he was dying of brostimpus-deels disorder, and a new FUER-MASTER would need to be chosen …
In the time of the black moon and the wolf-squirrel …
A young lad good with a spike and a whip and a steel chain, he would hurl himself at the inside-out bears and achieve total victory during the GREAT CONFLICT of YAB.
A young brute, with silvery hair and greenish skin, armed only with his wit and the muskul oils of Thwarntoz, where the high priestess women massage themselves with joob-bile and cundrom-sauce.
His name was STED … but he would soon be the NEW FUER-MASTER …
When STED was 8, 4 dingus-merchants visited his parents. They had gold and spices and hookers and cocaine … they offered to buy young STED for 5 pounds of gold, and his parents, being poor and addicted to crack, took the gold.
The merchants took STED to the EASTERN PROVINCE, where the GURU STEVE lived. Steve made knives out of old chainsaw chain … he was a blacksmith and a farmer and a hunter and a lover … he had wives in every crevice of the world, anywhere he fell there was some young busty maiden to rub oils on his wounds and yank is zuby-pipe.
STED grew bold and strong. STED learned the ways of CHIEF DIGGLER and joined the ranks of the hobo-shaman. He cast spells and sold bogus lottery tickets to the Mexican-Irish in TEXAS. His masters feared him, so they let him follow the jaded and jagged side roads, they let him feast upon the monkey-paste and dine with the queens of V’ygsoon.
STED was 17 when he met the witch of VAROOM. She told him he was the NEW FUER-MASTER to replace FEUR-MASTER GURGEN. “The lands have been without a FUER-MASTER for too long, the soil grows hard again, the water glows with radiological fury, the children do not read or write good, and the women have given in to HARLOTRY!”, the witch told STED he needed to choose the throne, if only for the lifetime supply of cocaine.
The ceremony was complete, and STED became FUER-MASTER STED and the guardian of the last Nalley’s Tamale factory that still supplied this nutritious treat to all the scrumbly folk and wandering tramps …
STED would reveal prophecies while drinking and smoking crack:
“There’s a 200 gigaton bomb being launched from the moon, it will be here real soon, it will go kaboom …”
“Freeze-dried elephant monkey poop pie, it’s on sale at SAFEWAY, we’re all gonna die …”
“She drives a GM truck, she’s a country girl she’ll take for a whirl …”
“We all love corrugated monkey meat, it gives our lives a special treat, it’s always on sale.”
weird paranoid thought: is there less oxygen in the air than there used to be
I need money for my trip back to Seattle to buy emergency cocaine
The site is becoming unstable the way the site did a year ago at GoDaddy before those fucks ripped me off
Tried to create an account on Twitter, it remained stable and unlocked for 45 minutes
Denmark …
If you MUST hate some people and some place …
“Denmark is a shitty place, with crappy people living in it.” – Shakespeare (revised)
Prophecy concerning WW3 …
When it begins …
Ching-Chong forces under the command of General CHANG-CHING will invade Alaska, WA and CA …
They will sneak in using container ships … and pour out into the port cities, hunting the street wench, eating roaches and rats, ravaging the countryside, opening new Panda Express locations …
Russian forces will invade from Canada …
Biden will wonder what kind of ice cream they’re serving that day …
When it begins …
Claivan-volk will arm themselves with tooglin-swords and mug-grease. They will wear uniforms made from dead cats and carry baseball bats with large carpentry nails driven through them. The younger ones will carry pillow cases filled with rocks and nuts and bolts and other rusty pieces of metal they can find near the old abandoned library …
Nurg-tergler, the STENIC PRINCE, will form an army of castro-wenches. They will roam the countryside near Scompton, not far from where those nuns were murdered by the CIA last year …
There will be another crispy chicken sandwich war … KFC will lose bigly.
Psychotherapy over the INTERNET: nope …
“Don’t ever do therapy over the internet.” – Dr. Freckles
JINGHIZ-LOHR … (a lesser known LORD of BOBLIMPTOCK)
He walked in the sunshine with the 44 gods, when the world was new and the earth was still fresh. He hunted skylark-pony on the plains of T’ybek, and among the FRUNG people he led a revolution of total satisfaction, spreading dingo-crabs to every hooker and having an 8-ball of cocaine ready at EVERY party …
Jinghiz-Lohr ruled the 21 realms following the atomic wars … his lands were vast and filled with dead. He would ride his shark-eagle across the territories of YOD – and nothing could stop his throng. He fed on whale-perch and wore a codpiece made of iron and pain. In the age of BOBLIMPTOCK, he was the RADIOACTIVE COMMANDER ELITE and women sought his man juice.
Jinghiz-LOHR took the lands east of GRINKEN. He managed to topple governments and take their hookers as his wives … following the 12th Atomic War, all the scunglin-folk were covered in keester-oil sores. They would drain these sores and put the pus and munctus into a large pot … they would add crickets and rat parts and old style Nalley’s Tamales … Jinghiz would look upon this as a man with an appetite to swallow a landfill. Ching-Chong warriors dug their tunnels, and the world prepared for the 13th Atomic War.
Jinghiz once pondered … “how many more atomic wars will there be?”
And the Demon X’inder said in response: “as many are as necessary for you monkeys to learn …”
Jinghiz or “Jing” as his friends called him, had 3 mothers and 9 fathers. Their gumbo-grease was mixed into a great vat, and they would spoon out gobs of this stuff with an old rusty soup ladle and pour it into the mother’s xig-caves, where the mixture incooblerated and festered and formed strange long compounds, minerals, vitamins and formed a breeding matrix for the clap. The women then de-cloaked their busty bodies and wrestled each other, in the busty sauces of TOR, where meagen-priests made sacrifices and the priestess-guardians grew hungry for the flesh … After 5 months, the child would spring forth, randomly, from one of the 3 women’s mester-pools, and at that moment they would scream and wail and welcome the next LOHR, or ruler of the NUGGEN-VOLK.
Jing could build a home out of sand and blood. He could transfer his thoughts, into a bat, and then have that bat do some wild shit …
Jing had the power of Ourox, his hands glowed white hot, and his fists were made of titanium. With every karate chop, he could split a man in half – he didn’t cry … his sadness took the form of knives.
Jing journeyed, when he was young, to the land of Vod, where the mad monk of S’compton lived, among coyote strippers and old frail harlots. He learned to scoop and move, he learned the way of CLOG. The mad monk taught Jing the power of 9 perceptions, and the middle world between the paint and the wall. This was Jing’s new style destiny, and he could sense a weird feeling in his man-rod.
… the 9 perceptions or SOUL-LEVELS are as follows …
T’lib: this happens upon awaking into the MEAT-WORLD. You feel a tingle in your dinctus, and your butt quivers. Your body demands the EXPULSION of waste – but analyzes this experience, determining HARD-SOFT conditions for poo and the kinds of Indian vindaloo that produce the most satisfying body screams, or bowel movements. To be in harmony with your sphincter is to achieve LEVEL ONE perception or T’lib.
Aagen: … it’s like you’re up late watching PornHub videos, mainly Ava Adams. And you feel as if you know her, that you’re connected. You massage your own booge-horg and feel and great power-pull into the region of love-grease and oil expansion. And at that moment you are with Ava Adams, and she is rubbing coconut grease on her ample orbs, and groaning and moaning your name … and as she groans and moans you notice a substance dripping from her underwear, and this is golden and buttery so you make popcorn and collect the stuff and put it ON the popcorn. You finish the popcorn and awaken, realizing it WAS ALL a DREAM … and then Kurt Cobain’s ghost shows up, and you play a set.
Turino: this is the sensation of soul-oneness with small furry animals, cats, dogs, sometimes hamsters. Your minds are synchronized: if they feel pain, you feel pain. If they are sad, the sadness grows in you … if they feel like pooping on the neighbor’s lawn? – you see where this is going.
Zipzomatic: this is the feeling you get when you look at your paycheck and think “fuck, I don’t get paid enough”. This usually results in visiting some bar after work and developing some kind of unhealthy relationship with the bartender there, with visible herpes. You end up leaving your wife and kids and moving in with the herpes woman and life seems grand … until a random stranger offers you a map to a goldmine in UTAH, not far from VERNAL, near that mass grave where the Mormons killed them injuns in 1896 … you can’t find your way home, and that’s the KEY.
Xoog-Roy: once you have an ONLY-FANS account, you can tap into this juice. There’s an electric connection between yourself and some rando-stranger peaking at your johnson from across the WWW. You sense the frustration and anger, from some bogo-freak living in a basement, eating dongo-fries and breathing lyre-fumes. And when the strungis becomes peaked and firm, the coop-gas gets released and the freaks stop paying their credit card bills. This is the sensation of total bleakness, Xoog-Roy.
Playidas: Yoog-hounds can trace their way home, no matter how far away they are abandoned. They can find their owners, asleep in their beds, and visit upon them great abuses and harm … as if loneliness is manifest in all consciousness and these dogs feel it all and the worst parts of being left alone, in the dark, no food, no love. This is Playidas …
Wey-hor: it’s the FRINGE-CONNECT on your email account that sifts through player minds-sets and finds true ONE-SHIP … when you are one with the other and the other is connected to your loorg-pipe or man-tube. That moment she decides to pull a knife out from under the pillow and cut off your cock? – that’s when you can perceive Wey-hor and the great GROIN agony.
Lurg: after the age of DOOM, when COL SANDERS 6 armies are beaten at the Battle of Denver? – there comes an APE-GURU connected to all chimps and gorillas. His name will be Brogas the Immense. He would tower over his contemporaries, never revealing to them the horrible truth … that he was WOOKIE … MAN BEAST … BIG FOOT … SWAMP APE … he was the thing that screamed in the Louisiana bayou demanding justice for the dolphin. In the fragile vibration of this life, you can connect to toads … this is LURG …
Codaroomaboomalapa: Once you achieved the 8 corner stone perceptions, and mastered oneness with small furry animals, you are ready for SOUL TRIUMPH vis-a-vis MIND WORTHYNESS … and this is exemplar of CHRONIC-SUNDRY moog-viss or dingus of Saab. In the time of Grinken, the whale-beasts will roam the old town and the mistress will inguzzlelate herself with cister-wine and troog-worms. As if all this undulating sin were not enough, there is the tremor of TROOG … and when you’ve incorporated all of this, you can state definitely you are ready to split people in half with one karate chop, and then do some coke.
“WHERE ARE THE HARBINGERS?!?”, Jing yelled at the great mountain, the cliffs, the rocks and the river.
He was seeking the balance of ZINDER-REALM, and his own codpiece was covered in fire ants … and this was uncomfortable.
“WHY HAVE YOU ABANDONED THE SWAMP APES AND THE NUGGEN-VOLK?”, but only silence followed, as Jing laid down his head and the sun dipped behind the great mountain.
As night fell, so Jing fell into a deep sleep …
He went to a dream world, where frog-sailors built ships of weed and old time’y town squares were inhabited by rat-soldiers and dusty old munge-whores.
He dreamed he was SLUNGIS, the MAN-LORD, the one of many hooker wives …
He dreamed his hooker wives were all laid out on a gigantic bed, a bed that shook and shake’d and sprayed sexual greases all over the place, ancient oils of lusty boovulus.
He dreamed of battling the old dragon of D’ig, where COONDRAK the FIRE RAIDER held sway, and the several armies of Wug stood fast against the ORCA ZONE and the coming raccoon storm …
And as the sun rose, and dawn broke upon the plains of G’OGGEN … Jing himself awoke with new insights and a vision to lead his tribe …
Life’s strange dynamic …
“Don’t be afraid to stand your ground, don’t be afraid to pack your bags, because life has this strange dynamic.” – Dr. Freckles
