"GRAVY FOR YOUR BRAIN!" – Conspiracy Theory (1997)
DEAR BLACK PEOPLE,
I’m opening a PLANTATION in the EVERGLADES. I want busty figure 8 mocha bitches, and hard as SCRATCH DEEP BLACK NEGROES for the alligator wrestling arena.
I will send you a PDF on how to get there.
This is an UNPAID internship.
Dan
“Everyone needs a good editor, except MAYBE God.” – Dr. Freckles
Yes GRINKEN MAN, WOAH-MAN, we bumble and fumble our way from BOBLIMPTOCK to GRINKEN TIME. HEAVING and SEETHING, we FALTER in the spaces between hummingbird breaths and toilet crab heartbeats.
WE SWAY from side to side in the fray, as TONGUE-BLASTERS and NICKLE-COMMIES toss urine bags at the cops and the National Guard troops turn the water canons on us.
REELING AND ROLLING, our ship of FATE moves CLOSER to that everlasting forgetfulness, stuck in the coiled spring and waiting for the Summer evening.
Tottering, we fall over …
Floundering, we run aground …
And OUR SHIP SHAPE MUSKRAT LOVERS GLARE at our silky hair and wonder, “is DAN using a new conditioner?”
FRET NOT BOBLIMPTONAUT, your courage powers the MOON TRAIN and you will go INSANE when the carpal tunnel kicks in and the sin-regiment closes down shop.
WE ARE NOT THE WOBBLE HEADED DUKES of yesteryear. Our beer is FRESH and CRISP and lends to a derangement of the stool and a loosening of control over meat supplies.
We will not STEER out of the way, we will VEER out of the way …
When the light turns GREEN at the intersection, we HIT THAT 4-BARRELED BASTARD and dump 4 tons of gasoline magic into the ENGINE, and the wheels spin, and the lurching continues …
YOUR STOVETOP STUFFING is a muffin surprise for the EYES that lock with yours. That woman, and her COWBOY FUNK stunk up the PLACE and it was ACES you’d be playing “escape room” with her that night.
JEB LOVERS stick to the mountaintops, where the BLUE BIRD sings songs and the old timers bury themselves alive. JIVE TURKEYS get COOKED, and the SPIN SEAT HIDEAWAY is frozen in time as particles of light sweep over the fields and pastures.
I DEMAND YOU SAY:
“I WILL LURCH TO CHURCH!”
I will lurch to church and shire and chosen squires, keeping track of baby back ribs and chuck roast to boast.
THE PIZZA MAN is not my pal.
I CAREEN down the valley, heaving and broken, my words not spoken till the first WOAH-MAN came to hear.
I can stare down the BATS living upstairs, and take you to the sauna where we turn on the 60’s MOTOWN and with a FROWN you take my cash and bash my skull in , but I keep lurching.
With heaviness we sigh and the world spins further out of control. Our THIRST is without bounds, and the WHOLE TOWN is up in arms about what we did at Obrien’s Farm. You have a THIRST BURDEN and no one can take it down, the sign says “STOP”, but you lurch along, singing your song, to the BONG HEADS dying in the canal.
YOUR SCABS are CRAB MEAT for the FLEET when their ship comes in.
YOU PAINT YOUR BODY with TURBO TONGS and sober remedies, but the lost ones near the church don’t know; if they can GROW they can lurch too.
LESSONS are LEARNED when you get so badly burned that meaning is set aside in exchange for gun powder.
SO GET UP ON YOUR FUCKING FEET, it’s NEAT to FAIL-FORWARD and FALL on your miserable rice cakes.
HERE ARE THE OATHES of GRINKEN MAN and WOAH-MAN:
SPEAK THE GREAT PRAYER TO THE SKY HAWK SHAMAN:
OH GREAT SKY FLAG,
BLUE AND RED AND WHITE,
FIGHTING COLORS
for dead black mothers.
Fighting spirit
for the gin parched,
and the after school clan.
BE THE BEST WAGON GANG,
WE WERE KANGZ,
AND the RAIN stopped,
and the waters receded.
NO LONGER ARE YOU HUNGRY
or sad,
NO LONGER DO YOU CARRY
that monster dilly palace
sandwiched in your brain.
CLAIM YOUR SALTY AND SAVORY VICTORY!
MAKE YOUR WOAH-MAN REAL!
Frolic away,
shamble away,
heave and weave,
roll and tilt,
lurch and perch,
careening down
the canyon wall.
GOOD MORNING,
FUCK YOU,
I LOVE YOU!
(it looks like one of the relatives of terrorists has already fled to Miami)
(what must be done)
Some quick FACTS about DENMARK:
OLD DANISH CRONES will wander the streets looking for hope and optimism and love, they will scowl and yell and break the spell of peaceful Sunday style living. They like screaming at KIDS and will lead a flock of children back to their nasty shacks in the woods, and if only they could escape – that Egyptian modeled shack.
When DENMARK decided to invade GERMANY in 1940, no one cared; the fucking GERMANS SUFFERED under GEORG and the NEERDOWELL SCAVENGERS of GRID-31. KEEVOUS the MAD SWEDE sold sweaty dog pretzels to the opium dealers in Esbjerg, where the wild dogs are fed from the dead babies that so many DANES just cast aside, along the road, in the ditch.
The BIGFOOT live among the DANES, but mainly to keep an eye on them …
DANES CAN’T BE TRUSTED, not with sheep or dogs or beer. They will STAB YOU IN THE BACK, and CRY OUT as they beat YOU. If you go on a date with a Danish person, you might need full body radiation for any and all STDs you get.
YOUR DOG FRAMED PADIGM will not MATCH a Copenhagen’s hooker’s needful surprise. When her EYES catch yours you’ll see the speckles of purple, and KNOW that her systems are corrupted and she is NO WOAH-MAN for you to snuggle with.
DANES eat flea dust and live off of rotten fish testicles.
DANES LOVE to smell their farts, and they cart around a load of pain wherever they go.
YOU ARE NOT REQUIRED to save a Danish person if they are drowning – I think this is in Psalms.
Every CHRISTMAS the people of DENMARK make a FEAST of the HOLIDAY FRENCHIE. A family will buy a HOLIDAY FRENCHIE from the KOREAN down the street, and it’s so neat because they will decorate it and cook it on Christmas Eve. Then, the children awaken to that well done FETE and sit at the table to ladle in the misery and scorn and to wish they’d never been born.
One drop of DANISH BLOOD can pollute a reservoir.
YOU EVER STUB YOUR TOE ON A STONE? – a Dane placed the rock there.
JORVIAN MUSK WOMEN wash up on the shores of Latvia, and people know what’s going on. QUORG-HUNTERS from RANDERS grab a sander and set to the work of cleaning the roads. So many prostitutes and nuns are taken out by these weird DANES and their SWEDISH COUSINS that remove bottle caps from beer bottles with their TEETH. And underneath that mess lay a jester and his rubble poetry, and the dead whisper to ODIN “my mother smells”.
SCHRODINGER killed 5.4 million cats to prove a point: he was Danish.
THE VIKING KINGDOM of OLDE DENMARK ruled 45% of MICRONESIA and OHIO. They had boats that skimmed their way up the Mississippi and made landfall in CHICAGO and Las Vegas. SIMPLER CATS tried to farm and log, but the bogs were deep and the sheep died of COVID.
ENGLISH WIVES with fish for garnet, as the DANES go by in their fancy cars. No one cares that the kids eat dental floss and the market only sells ass. YOUR PAST LIVES thrived on this kind of living, but the GIVING is getting harder and the DANES don’t care.
3/4 Danes have killed someone’s grandma, half of these were fed to squirrels.
THERE IS NOTHING SACRED to the DANES!
They feast off of cotton-mouth minstrels and traveling piss monkeys. The DANES cleaved together a “culture” of porn and vice and spider egg delights.
You don’t want to go there, have you seen the movie franchise HOSTEL?
You don’t want to find a man or a woman there, they will come back to YOUR HOME and pollute it with their EEL tragedies.
You can’t handle DANISH LIES and coconut pies, their women have boobs filled with industrial plastic and used toilet paper.
STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM DENMARK!
G.M.F.Y.I.L.Y.
“I don’t care where I live, I can hate people anywhere.” – Dr. Freckles
“The TRUMP mind fuck only works because people are that fucking desperate.” – Dr. Freckles
MP3: https://planetarystatusreport.com/mp3/20241107_BTANL_Chapters_9_10.mp3
Donate: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/doctorfreckles
RECOUNTS: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=14852
The US dollar empire burns down as fast as it does.
“Trump”
“Harris”
“Whatever weird protein blob or slab is currently ‘POTUS'”
These are sideways freaks, some might even believe they have power – focusing on them is like focusing on the magicians smile or the pretty assistant.
And this is why you are retarded.
I have 8 years of data – some of you here are part of that data set.
In those 8 years I can barely verify that 5 of the theoretical people that interact with me on the WWW are real.
And mind you: some of the fakers I met IRL.
Chapter 9: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=14470
Chapter 10: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=14735
“If you wanted to ensure people knew how to count you wouldn’t support public schools.” – Dr. Freckles
I CAN TOSS YOU THROUGH TIME – to the Spring of 1993.
THERE YOU’D SEE a BUILDING with fire-lightning screams and the seams busting open. RED FLANNEL DRESSES and messes on the floor, as ATF FUCK-STRANGLERS joke about “long shots” and “did you see that kid’s head explode when I hit him”, SNIPER TROOP, scooping poop from their own diseased hearts, acting as FLAMING CHEEK GOBLINS, taking turns shoving potatoes up each other’s butts. THERE you could have a FORTRESS with walls stronger than the longest 4 steak sandwich. And YEARNING you will find that your color is RED and YELLOW and BLACK. What color is your compound?
YOU DUG A HOLE in the NATIONAL FOREST, like a VIETCONG CUB SCOUT. You didn’t POUT when your wife left you for your uncle-brother, and your MOTHER’S TEETH got replaced with STEEL, because her diabetes was quite bad and nothing would heal. So you tossed her arms and legs and morning trophies onto the PYRE and LIT THAT FIRE and ghost’ed away to the WOODS. YOUR GREEN MEANIE SCARS show THROUGH and that HOT GOO for Cyndi Lou sticks quite firm as dried mistakes on a blue dress. YOUR COMPOUND is GREEN, and unseen – but the old ones see you, and master your fate.
YOUR COMPOUND is your PARACHUTE and your PARACHUTE is a golden shower. YOUR POWER is derived from living a GUSTO EXISTENCE, both hidden and seen as it pleases you, with anchored triple-strand concertina wire protecting the gardens of your soul.
THESE are the VIBRATIONS of your COMPOUND SELF:
1 – OBSTACLES
YOUR COMPOUND must be EMBITTERED with angry LEGO spirits. You wake up, it’s early, the lights are OFF, and some fucking smartass leaves a LEGO on the ground, and without a SOUND your naked old foot, covered in fungal infections, takes a STEP, you leapt, cuz the pain is so severe and you screamed “FUCK” so loud everyone could hear.
Holes are great, and easy to deploy. Ensure you keep a map of all these holes somewhere tucked deep in your reptile mind. Dig trenches and holes, plant punji sticks at the bottom of deadfalls, pee on the sticks and poop on them, such that your enemy can die as the KOMODO hunts.
You can chop down trees and crosshatch them as you fell them. This makes it hard for the weak minded and the frail. In a rats nest of fallen timber, you can hide the LIMBER SPARK of claymore mines and other such IEDs of the spirit. As they take turns hacking away, you can trigger that explosive and watch them FLY AS HIGH AS EAGLES, and it will look so funny from 500 meters away.
A bridge is KEY TERRAIN, a blown-out or washed-out bridge is a problem.
If you have no need for that bridge, get rid of it, it will not serve you or your cloven wives.
A landslide is a great way to block a passage, and sometimes it’s GREAT to trigger this annoyance with an explosive, burying the first ranks in mud and rock.
Don’t be afraid to use cars to block roads, don’t be afraid to permanently disable the vehicles.
A sunken boat can block an inlet, and makeshift dragon’s teeth below the waves can send many a butt-pirate to their graves.
WHILE SUPPLIES LAST, stock up on CONCERTINA WIRE and BARBED WIRE; know the difference, understand HOW to deploy both. If you live on the 8th floor of some hooker paradise, and you’ve got the SCOOBY SNACKS and CAT LITTER but you want to keep out the FLOW-JOES? – then build a SKEIN of concertina wire and barbed wire in the stairwell – the elevators no longer work.
Construction RIP RAP that will be trucked away can be yours: go to some site and make an offer. Those twisted chunks of concrete and rebar are just the fucking LEGO you’re looking for.
2 – OVERWATCH
YOU CAN’T LIVE if you DON’T SEE.
Even the blind can see, but they do so with their EARS. WHEN picking a compound location, you really want it to be the case that: a) YOU can see people coming and b) THEY can’t see you at all. But it’s good to hear too, ideally your location allows you the ability to HEAR something long before it arrives. These are ideals cartoon soldier.
If you have a community, then you need a security plan; part of that plan is the deployment of forward observers. These folks man outposts on the edge of your NEW WORLD, after the collapse, after the TRUMP WASHING wears off. These observers will have a means to communicate with your HQ, ideally field phones, but simple handheld radios can work.
If you have money, you can buy remote solar powered sensors and cameras – but don’t go too high-tech. Sometimes the BEST signal is cans on a string, and that’s some low tech garbage any hooker can do.
OVERWATCH and CONCEALMENT are at odds, honestly …
The ideal location in terms of camouflage can be the WORST location to observe your enemy from. But, if you can work in teams and have a community, then this problem becomes workable and you CAN have your COMPOUND and see the enemy too.
3 – KEY TERRAIN
THESE LISTS ARE NOT PERFECT …
For you, the GOMBO-FREAK:
FOR THE FEDs:
The KEY MESSAGE for KEY TERRAIN: key terrain is any land or fixed structure that the LOSS of IT would cause YOU great harm or give your enemy an advantage.
4 – AVENUES OF APPROACH
An avenue of approach is the land, sea or air based path of approach that is easiest for your ENEMY or anyone headed your direction.
A stream or river or creek can be an avenue of approach: it isn’t rapid, and not for heavy machinery or vehicles, but it provides a natural COVER and the noise of the water can mask the sound of troops moving.
Obviously: some shitty state highway or interstate or county road is an avenue of approach. However, most of these shitty constructions will turn to dust in about 5 years; that’s about how well we build roads, these days. But still, the dirty muddy dusty path that used to be I-5 will be useful for those strange travelers from beyond.
A railroad track path tends to follow the IDEAL slope path, and often has access roads build nearby. Many kinds of military vehicles, tracked armored type vehicles, can use the path created by the railroad tracks as a makeshift road as well. YOUR ENEMY might use trains to move troops and logistical materials, so this is WHY a railroad track is key terrain and WHY sometimes the best idea is to dismantle the tracks completely, blow the bridges.
AIRCRAFT, especially military aircraft, have IDEAL avenues of approach. Helicopters can take advantage of river valleys and canyons, also using the echo effects and ambient noise to mask and misdirect their enemies. Close support aircraft like the A-10 are designed to endure HIGH TURBULENE low altitude flying. There’s not a lot you can do with FUDD TECH against CAS aircraft, but you can string a canyon with steel cable and NOT include the flashing red light – cuz that was BOBLIMPTOCK, and it’s GRINKEN TIME NOW BRAH!
5 – COVER
Logs and mud can be deployed in such a way that they provide both COVER and concealment. But the priority about COVER is protection against: military caliber rifles, crew served weapons, light and heavy machine guns, indirect fires and other explosives. A simple log-house bunker, using rock, sand, dirt, mud, as the “mortar” to fill in the gaps between logs. If your compound color is GREEN, this is a great way to build the split level cabin/underground dwelling space.
COVER is NOT concealment, cover is what stops a bullet or a fragment from a nearby exploding artillery or mortar round.
COVER YOU CAN LIKELY DEPLOY won’t protect against bunker busting bombs or any average attack by the defense forces of Israel (they be bombing at 10,000 tons of TNT per square mile these days).
6 – CONCEALMENT
ARE YOU SPIDER MAN?
Are you invisible?
WHEN YOU IMAGINE THE COLOR OF YOUR COMPOUND do you think CRYSTAL PEPSI?
To be hidden is to be unknown, occult.
To be hidden is to be like night, like the wind, like gravy chariots running down the ice mountain, running from wolves.
To be hidden is to be ignored, and this is CRITICAL.
What if I told you the color of your COMPOUND is brown and green and gray? What if you and your BITCH CLAN of the SEATTLE JUNGLE built a portable set-up from cardboard and tape and garbage bags and parachute cord and love? What if you built a set up that could be packed on the back, and folded out FAST, so that WHEREVER the fuckers of SLEEGIT VILLE SEND YOU, you can move on out quickly and have your new home set up FASTER than BRISKETS. But it has to look bad – your shambles has to look like it’s covered in vomit and fecal matter and dried blood.
THE BEST DISGUISE is THEIR apathy.
IF YOUR COLOR IS “HIDDEN”, then you can avoid those harmful interactions when the homeowner starts going all “Bill Pasquale” because they’ve had the FOR SALE sign UP for 4 months, and no one is stopping by, and you’ve dropped the price 7 times.
CONCEALMENT is NOT cover: so get some ballistic blankets you can toss over your moving hovel, to save you the trouble of burying your street-whore girlfriend.
CONCLUSION:
YOUR WITCH STRENGTH is in KNOWING that there’s a place for you, and your kin, when Grinken Time begins.
NO IDEAL compound exists, ask Hitler …
You can bury yourself 900 feet below the surface of the earth, and drink whiskey and watch old movies. You can have a compact nuclear power source, water and food for 3,000 years. You can make mashed potatoes and gravy and eat this in your dirty underwear while dreaming about Sydney Sweeney – no matter tired old barn cat, you gotta scat and find your comfort valley up in the woods.
If you are driving through UTAH and see a sign that says: “THESE ARE YOUR PUBLIC LANDS”. THEN STOP ON BY and set up your compound on YOUR public lands. Build ramparts and dig wells, take a STAB at drying sheds for VENISON and farming local trout. Your CARROT TOP lovers will SPILL THE CREAM when your stony temple comes into scene.
YOU NEED YOUR HOME.
They want you to burn.
G.M.F.Y.I.L.Y.
MP3: https://planetarystatusreport.com/mp3/20241106_does_it_matter.mp3
Donate: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/doctorfreckles
Does it matter:
Unlike the COVID, the “election” season is mostly low stakes bullshit. So you probably don’t have to wreck your connections with people over this nonsense unless you are mentally unstable … which is most of you RON PAUL GUY FAWKES MASK WEARING DIP SHITS.
Trump makes sense: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=14837
THIS IS MY HOOKER GRANDMA: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=14773
IYKYK: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=14835
Better it looks: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=14833
GUY FAWKES/FAUX: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=14790
WHOOPIE: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=14771
Shaking your fist at God: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=14733
Daylight slavings: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=14729
Daylight Savings: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=14727
Re-imagine time: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=14731
I’m the Paul Harvey: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=14725
“If you know you know, and soon the ones that don’t won’t.” – Dr. Freckles
“The better it looks, the worse it is.” – Dr. Freckles
“GUY FAWKES is GUY FAUX.” – Dr. Freckles
WEIRD ASS CONSPIRACY THEORY:
GUY FAWKES was a CONSTRUCTED TURD right from the beginning.
100% ANCIENT ROYAL DEEP STATE nonsense.
Why? – because the KING needed the fear, needed the English to be afraid that the Spanish would invade, or the French, or both.
Yes: GUY FAWKES is GUY FAUX
V for VENDETTA, 2006
Second year of my marriage.
5th year of my “career” in software engineering.
Living the “good life”, and already I could see some really broken shit coming up ahead – but not the head space to dig too deeply.
That movie was a major mind fuck, and I should have seen it – but instead, like the “ROCKY MOVIE DRUG” or like some MUSE VIDEO, I got suckered.
And now I see these fucks wearing these masks and wonder WHY THE FUCK are you celebrating a guy who wanted Jesuits to burn women alive for being midwives?
This is my hooker grandma.
She is voting for MEGA-HAIRY-BALLS because she does not want AMERICA going back to the AMERICA that used to be AMERICA. She also wants to shove a probe up your butt to search for aliens. She talks to ELVIS while on the toilet, but she’s okay, she’s gonna be fine.
My grandma says she doesn’t want it to GO BACK To the way it used to be, when she had to rinse out her boovula with diesel fuel and broken glass …
Her boovula is filled with potato bugs, her eyes are jaundiced from liver failure.
CAN YOU CARE ENOUGH BRAH?
Care …
MY GRANDMA? – she had to get 40 abortions from a DUDE named KYLE, and he used dynamite and rebar and mineral spirits and sulfuric acid. It was HORRIBLY MONSTROUS and NOBODY CARED and DONALD TRUMP would film it and sell the movies to Warren Buffet. Do you care BRAH?
BECAUSE OF EVIL MEN, my grandma was kept on an ISLAND in the South Sea, she was traded among the elite and used for her sexual prowess. Frank Sinatra and JFK shared her once, giving her a WYOMING COWBOY RIDE, but she wasn’t ready for it. It hurt her, and nobody cared. WE WANT TO GO BACK TO THAT BROH?
Do you care about my grandma?
MY GRANDMA had to eat sand-mice for dinner and the water she drank was brown and fetid. Random men would come along and kick her in her groin, as random women tossed bricks at her and chased her down the street. Children threw gasoline bombs at my grandma, and mocked her as she rolled on the ground to put out the flames. And you are VOTING for BLUMP to send us back to that? You hate my grandma?
I’ll kill you.
My grandma once had sex with 200 Mexican farm workers. HUGO CHAVEZ had been fumigating her “attic”, while my grandpa was getting drunk at Denny’s and masturbating to GAY PORN. AFTER GRANDPA JIZZED on his GRAND SLAM, he went back home and found 80 dicks stuck in his wife and this drove him cocaine crazy mad. He got out his chainsaw and began chopping up them Mexicans, Mexicans that were sent to his home by Donald Trump and Ray Charles.
If you vote for TRUMP, we are going back to this.
The last few years have been hard on my grandma. MAGA-PUNKS down the STREET stole her French bulldog and turned it into taco meat, selling the meat back to my grandma – it was a good deal, prices, amirite?
THESE YOUNG FUCKING PUNKS chase my grandma, and chant MAGA THEMES and beat her with sticks and chains. This was LIFE under Donald Trump, for my grandma … do you even fucking care?
We can’t let it go back.
Under TRUMP, my grandma would be severely abused by the VA hospital. They had her undergoing surgeries she didn’t need, and the doctors would sew dead squirrels into her open wounds. Some of them laughed as the nurses pee’d on her, and nobody cared, cuz TRUMP was PREZ.
We can’t let it go back bro.
My poor grandma …
MY POOR FUCKING GRANDMA had to WORK in the kitten factories when she was 12 years old. 16 hour shifts, two days off every 6 months. HER JOB was to pry the kittens out of the molds, and if they were deformed? – she had to dump the kittens in the drowning pool out back.
And the TRUMP family OWNED that terrible place.
And if you VOTE for TRUMP? – we’re going back to that and WORSE you FUCK!
MY GRANDMA had to travel 5 minutes to find an abortion clinic a few weeks ago. She’d been having 7 way FRIDAY NIGHTS with the BINGO CREW and it turned out she had an egg or two in storage … well … she didn’t want a kid at her age, so she had to drive FIVE MINUTES to find the 24 hour Planned Parenthood Abortion Clinic and Strip Club …
So dangerous … so inconvenient.
This could have ruined her life.
Don’t let TRUMP do this …
MY POOR FUCKING MISERABLE GRANDMA was eating at the TWIN COW BUFFET off of Boston Street, when JERGIZ, the THROAT MUFFIN, started punching my grandma and demanding monies. He says she owed him for the CRACK and METH and KROKODIL he sold her, but my sweet grandma? – WTAF.
We had to slay that fuck, and dump him and the truck out by Collin’s Farm.
And this is what happens if TRUMP is president.
Can’t go back, won’t go back.
My poor grandma didn’t get proper medical attention. When she was sick when TRUMP was president her doctors gave her a bunch of pills and stuck needles in her and cut off her legs and arms.
If Trump gets back in, what will grams do?
DAMN THAT PAPA BLUMP!
(taking away abortions from my grandma)
My GRANDMA was CHASED by devil-pirates and she fought off the NAZIS during WW2. SHE’S STILL a SILVER HAIRED SHARK-MAIDEN, out on the great blue looking out for me and you. HER CURVE-SOUL STREAM was the GLEAM that shocked the cocaine world and led her to BANGER NIGHTS in Manhattan.
If Trump gets elected he will hunt her down and strap her to a large wooden frame. He will brutally ravage my grandma, thereby giving himself incurable genital crabs. Within 4 weeks Trump is DEAD and JD Vance (seen DEADZONE) takes over and launches nukes at the jerks who made fun of him as a kid.
We can’t go back to that, can we, my puppy fodder friends?
IF TRUMP WINS …
OH BY GOSH the entire SEA of HORDE MONKEYS will crawl out of our toilets and take our grandmas feminine hygiene products and perfume and makeup and adult diapers. Our GRANDMAS will be NAKED before the TRIBUNALS. Hunted and filled with harlotry, they will flaunt their GRANDMA beach bodies as they dance the 7 veils for cocktails and kidney-rice. It would be NICE if you sent her a CHRISTMAS CARD this year, put down that beer and give her a call. OH DEAR – are you little Mr. Rotten Cakes?
THIS IS MY GRANDMA … fighting off MAGA-PUNKS in SECTOR-9-TANGO. She’s a BALL when that big haul comes in and all the FLYNN MERCHANTS are out of shell-spice and plankton-soap. TRUMP will tear her apart, setting her homes on fire and using piano wire to strangle her poor little FRENCH BULLDOG. THERE IS NO SAFE SPACE for a woman of her grace and charm, and great harm will come to grandma if we don’t stop TRUMP and his MAGA TARD SCROG FORCES under the command of JD VANCE! Someone’s got to do SOME DAMN THING about BLUMP!
LORGEN-FLOR, the thirst-griever of King Temblass, hid a faerie dust trail from our old GRANDMAS. They might have ESCAPED this JUNGLE HELL, and made it, scantily clad, to an island of bliss and busty women and group showers. BUT NO, TRUMP stopped it because he can’t handle powerful women with untreated herpes!
And now my GRANDMA doesn’t have healthcare and she’s all alone in her condo in Hawaii, ungunjoolating herself while she watches the surfers get eaten by squid.
All because TRUMP got elected or will get elected … maybe he won’t.
All because of that.
“I used to think Whoopie Goldberg was black.” – Dr. Freckles
We’re NOT SCIENTOLOGY …
We’re a GROOVEMENT, we INVENTED the FIVE TRILLION YEAR HOA and the JOHN LURCH SOCIETY, D.F.G.T.C., fuck you pay me type love pyramids …
A HUGE GROOVEMENT of HIGH POWER FOR-PROFIT TAX SCHEMES and triple secret vampire-tontine default swaps … our financial backers include Tootle’s Butt Cream and Old Maverick .357 magnum rounds. But it goes deeper, to the ancient deep time of those ages so far back that remembrance of yesterday is an afterthought in the shadow of eternity … yeah.
A danarchist approaches life with a “okay fuck it” kind of attitude. We are not interested in the bland arts and have no desire to cook your food. If we happen to make you breakfast, you will complain, probably get food poisoning, and this is not in alignment with GRINKEN STYLE joy-life KOOLAID energy.
DANARCHISTS NEGATE GANDALF-STYLE INTERRUPTIONS. We equate friendliness with edge-tingling maneuvers (the SOVIETS and NAZIS invading POLAND STYLE SHIT). If some mother fucker shows up at your shed and says “ZED, follow me to get the RINGS!”, grab your .454 CASULL and remind that bearded FUCK that life is hard and the SHIRE is worse. Some fucking princess send you a THREAT CHAIN email? – “help me ZED you’re my only hope”, that kind of sideways bullshit? How many men do you think she FUCKED before she found you? Don’t be a schmuck, tell that whore to beat bricks.
YOU WILL engage with LIFE-POWER on a need basis. Water pooling in the cavern spirit parts of your bowels will release METH BASKET gift cards and holiday spirit spiced coffee scents. DO NOT RELENT when the snow-maiden comes with a dead hare, and the BEAR pygmies begin a great journey to the STRIPPER VILLAGES of Yellowknife and Campbell Lake.
Here are the 5 core elements:
1 – GRINKEN WAVES
Have you ever been to the beach and felt the power of pure wave energy?
A salty wind crystal caress, touching your heart-ravens and messing with inner ear balance and strange feelings of loss. YOU CAN make peace with the self-disconnect, but only in wrestling with the longing sense of breathtaking soul grieving. A foul portent from seagull wanderers provides a witness to what is to come. Don’t have fun pretending that there is an escape, but make your peace with the salty wind and grow.
A DANARCHIST balances the peppermint fantasies. He endures the smoky and broken cowboy hangouts and transcends ordinary meat and sausages. He does not eat FISH or LAMB or SHRIMP, and as pimps go he limps and lurches so that others can sense his pipe-shivers.
THE GRINKEN WAVE paves the way and your surfboard awaits. GREET CHAOS with a FIRECRACKER SMILE and go that extra mile to find pastry-wax for your girlfriends birthday. TINY MARKS are left on your HOLE-SOUL, and the frivolous wanting of yesteryear gives way to multi-level orgasmic love-sex romance.
2 – HARLOT GRAPPLING
YOUR LIBERTY PRIDE is INSIDE the WOAH-MAN of your future. Don’t SUTURE THE WOUND WENCH, but mend the wings of dreams no longer respected. Your PALM ENERGY slides into her cape and the NIP SLIP PANTRY THIEF turns over a new leaf and leaves your grimy October maple tree concerns with Aunt Jiminy and the slime-crawlers from two towns over.
HER NEED BEAM is to have a RING on her finger, YOUR GRINKEN MAN FLAVOR PACK comes from an understanding of colonoscopies and Penicillin panty parties. THE HARLOT LURKS, she don’t LURCH. You can CATCH THE GAIT of some BITCH losing faith in her TIGER-SPIRIT and she LURKS near the liquor store and drinks Mickey’s with “Peaches” and Joe. She’ll never go home again, and you’ll be stuck raising her kid, “Daisy”, and for decades you will barely get by as the SKY HAWK SHAMAN MOCKS YOU.
YOUR ESCAPE is to GRAB that GAPE and make it pay for the words she’d never say.
BUY CHEAP .22LR at the WALMART this week, the HARLOTS are spreading to Tulsa.
3 – YO DUDE
YOU DUDE …
You’ve been rude to your homeroom cadre. Your sister-bits has been upset about the broken NINTENDO and DAD wants you go move out and get a job.
YO, PAL …
I was here when the time-reaper cast your mom into the boiling sea and there was nothing but white muck and pleasure grease and some kind of JOURNEY playing on the radio. Your SADIE MADRE would SAY: “take that garbage to the cub”. But momma, she didn’t want you to drop out and sell crack or smack, momma saw something HUGE’R inside – a kind of demon ORANGE PRIDE.
YOU FRIEND – it’s the END of Mario’s Pizza and Jimmy Stewart soup. The GRAY POOP from grandad’s venison stew was left as a warning to those poor saps stuck in flounder-pounder-grounder morass and your ASS is going to HELL because the bell has rung, and the dung piles high, making your passage to a yellow sky.
4 – SPACE TETHERING
EVERYONE IS CONNECTED to a TETHER.
Every person connects to all other persons and stars and moons with tethers.
Moons and planets and asteroids are tethered to each other, through lines of force: weak/strong nuclear, electromagnetic, gravity, and the SALAMANDER SMILES of turtles and raven children.
Your woman’s boovula is tethered to the sun and to you. She HEATS UP when that sun cooks her power-focus and WOAH-MAN rage-splendor kicks into high gear, near the climax, when the bedsheets get messy and OLD TESSY makes runny Canadian syrup.
A TETHER CONNECT YOU to your family and your dog.
Your cat has a tether that connects her to your friend Kate, and Kate is tethered to your frozen pizza.
YOU CAN’T SEE IT SNOW PETAL, but I am CONNECTED to YOU via a tether – we feel each other’s stomach cramps and intestinal jumbles, we feel when that apple crumble gone bad from the TRAD WIFE SURGERY HYPE and the lost widow spark sprinkles left to TRINKLE near the driveway and Old SCRATCH.
YOUR ENEMIES ARE TETHERED TO YOUR SOUL, your hate for them causes you to FLOAT as they burn like paper Japanese torches, released to the SKY for a GOODBYE KISS.
There are tethers connecting atoms and frogs and Kevin Bacon – all joined by a super universe of tether wellness.
5 – SELF SURGERY
You need 5 pound test fishing line and modeling knives.
You need super glue and GORILLA TAPE and chunks of scrap wood from the abandoned church.
You need VODKA and a mirror and some kind of candle or light in case it is dark …
You need suturing needles and clamps and vices and spreaders from the Oreilly’s Auto Parts, and it’s good stuff too – the same shit they use at hospitals in Moldova.
HAVE YOUR FRIEND knock you over the head with a lead pipe, if he’s performing surgery in the alley – but if it’s YOU doing SELF SURGERY, then just finish off half that vodka bottle and pour the rest in your open wound.
SHOVE INTO THAT CHASM gravel and broken glass and metal shavings and wood chips and diesel fuel and one or two dead squirrels. Sew it up and drink more vodka, as the wound heals and you slowly drift off towards heaven.
CONCLUSION:
You are not safe here, you were never safe here.
So many ways in which your LIFE POWER can SHOWER the world with crimson drops and mops won’t be around to clean up that mess I tells ya.
YOU ARE NOT SAFE at WORK.
That JERK WENDY reported you to HR and said you trapped HER in your car, after tricking her to the bar for a “professional development opportunity”. DICK-SURGE was the MOTION and the lotion flowed but she slapped your CHEEK. THE MEEK will inherit the NETFLIX and the strong will smoke a bong and rap that GOOBER across the face, leaving a mess for the DRAG QUEENS to clean up on Saturday.
SO DROP THE ACT and BREATHE.
LET GO of SLACKER AWARENESS and BREED that SEED to the east and the west.
Leave pale smears everywhere you go …
Prove to your WOAH-MAN that your GRINKEN SPUNK is CHUNKY SURPRISE and it belies a D.B. Cooper in old suede jeans.
G.M.F.Y.I.L.Y.
“It’s okay to shake your fist at God, just don’t wink at the Devil.” – Dr. Freckles
