I don’t have any real notes for this podcast. I don’t have those notes because this was 100% of me ranting about some banking snafu that held up some small amount of money that I was hoping to get … I think … I think it was just a “snafu” …
But there is a lot of rhetoric about using capital controls at LOW VALUES of capital, to including the coverage of hobos like me. I don’t have much of anything, but at this point in the game, and little meager amount will be gone after, and all the shit that your shit bird countrymen can do to you will be allowed … maybe not for everyone, but for some.
using my money at Davis, my money wasn’t good enough
Bluehost is flaking out to the point that I think they may cancel me too … what are the “dangerous” messages: a) COVID is/was a PSYOP, b) the POTUS is the Mayor of WA DC, c) the RESET is bogus, d) if you live in a city, you are already at the FEMA camp
I need 80 billion dollars to raise an ARMY of GORILLAS … not guerrillas … gorillas.
I was reading about how some scientists want to make Pluto a planet again … that’s racist.
“If the government sets aside $50 billion to STOP people from eating bacon, that money would be funneled to cronies, and people would still be eating bacon … probably twice as much bacon.” – Dr. Freckles
I can imagine some “Music Man”, going before congress in 2025 …
“Give me 7 trillion dollars, and I’ll finally destroy SASQUATCH!”
(and he’ll get the money)
(and he brings Sasquatch into existence)
“… and finally … when there’s nothing left … you can’t get another loan from the bank or another box of booze … you bust the joint OUT – you light a match.”
– Goodfellas
What people want …
“Knowing what people want is half the work of lying.” – Dr. Freckles
They stamp out the male vibe with their rag-tag leather bound persistence. Their minds are aware and open to ancient poems written by the skag-horde, and they will only relent when the pools of gobble-oil are warmed up for the ceremonial boobie baths …
Their leader, Testruss, is mean and coy. She’s a blonde bombshell built with triple-D’s and a will to use them …
Testruss has the canned gaze of that farmer guy, whose corn grows sideways and against the wind. She’s never late and always in costume – her high heel ways break the minds of men. She was the last of the ADMIRALS who ruled the near space, battling other vacuum ships and launching her woman-slaves in death rockets.
The YULIAN TRIBE is IN CHARGE of life at 20 miles up. Their craft slink softly through the near vacuum, with ion drives glowing and rail guns humming. They fight for the FRONTIER OF SPACE and will destroy and man-man navy that comes to take them out. Their lesbian bonds are forged in blood and fire, and their clever tactics are always on point.
Each year …
When the grass turns yellow …
When the leaves begin to fall …
The YULIAN HIGH PRIESTESS prepared herself for the MOUNTAIN OF IN-BOOVULATION …
A harness is built in the great woods, and affixed between several large trees …
The high priestess is stripped of all clothes and covered in the ancient greases of GROMULII …
She is tied and strapped into the harness, her legs spread apart …
She prepares herself by writhing and her own womanly juices flow forth …
She is going to make love to the great WOOKIE SPIRIT …
Her eyes are pale green and wet. She can’t stand it, her boovula exhales hydrogen gas. You knew she was easy, when she showed you her condom wallet – you knew she was greasy, when she bragged on her cuspit ring …
The drink is brown sklib, and the bar tender shakes his head as you gag on his mog juice. Terry, the old janitor, spends his Friday nights drunk on vodka and diet cola, he hits on the prostitutes waiting for their Johns … who are in the john …
Posted above the bar is a list of complaints …
Tingus owes me $5
There are dragon-moths in the womynz bathroom …
Stag flesh is being sold as taco meat, and Ralph started bleeding out his butt pipe.
Someone is dumping bodies behind the stage …
Why does this bar not close?
Hooker sauce is too expensive …
The condom machine has tampons jammed up in it …
The tampon machine is filled with rolling papers …
No one wants sardine salad … nobody.
Taxi drivers won’t pick us up here, not since we ditched them those times.
It will be combined as NATIONAL MONKEY BOUILLABAISSE DAY …
Add some monkey
Cook it in combo grease
Add street spices and broken glass and metal shavings
Add sweat and blood and urine …
Add that can of NALLEY’S TAMALES you’ve been saving …
Cook it until it becomes a thick green mass …
Eat it somberly, in the sewer caves, alone …
Fake …
*** Amendment to previous quote …
“Faking deaths, and making up fake people, is a growth industry in America.” – Dr. Freckles
Is SBF even a person, or is he the “man with one red shoe”? A “North by Northwest” fake?
Truth and the Black Market …
“Want the truth? – shop at the black market.” – Dr. Freckles
space – trips to the Moon or Mars
fusion energy or any cheap (better than oil) energy
immotality
artificial intelligence
Antarctica
For the Patriot system to work …
UKRAINE STORY: 50/50 … could be kind of real … unlikely it’s an organic event. If it’s just more “run out the clock” PSYOP nonsense, then nothing outside the scope of the PSYOP will happen, and that means NO nuclear war. However, if we’re at the end game of a campaign to manage a fuzzy event, like the “Methane Bomb”, and the geniuses have decided nuclear winter is all they got? – then who knows … 50/50 … could be “harmless” psyop nonsense, could have a more sinister feature. As a Christian, there’s the possibility that this is “sign of the times” stuff … just don’t know for sure.
Ground security forces, most likely US Army Ranger
And even with all the above, this is NOT an agile system … you won’t be moving these batteries around a lot … there’s a reason these systems are deployed FURTHER SOUTH in S. Korea than the primary ADA systems … they are for strategic assets.
So maybe you deploy a battery near Kiev, but when do you give the order to bug out?
(when Russian troops are 100 or 200 miles away)
(and that means right after the counter offensive begins)
What if the “news cycle” is purposely tilted towards these base fear-monkey psyops?
The “Ukraine War” is on hold … because winter geoengineering ops are still working … and people can pretend it’s “all okay”.
Imagine a world, like ours but different. Imagine there is a person in this world imagining worlds. And this other person’s worlds there are people, imagining worlds …
The “Kanye Hitler” event is “popping smoke” … more noise … more designer-confusion …
(just ignore the pillars of smoke in the distance …)
Great Things Hitler Did:
Volkswagen
Interstate Highways
High speed rail
Space travel
Jet engines
Really stylish outfits (Hugo Boss)
He HATED RUSSIANS, and that’s a thing Americans get into now …
He did some other stuff …
Daily prophecy …
They will call you LORD DRIG and you will own the lands of the ancient FROOG FOLK, not far from Chicago … you will have 44 hooker wives, all of them unbustulated and splayed out on a giant bed made of gravy and diamonds. Many will fight for you, many will lay slain in the snow.
In the age of Nordic hustlers carrying old spade tire irons, your name will be written on the STARS. The 9 hectarian-loog bitches will make you their man-king. Your schlinctus will be cleaned by putty-elves and your heart will be replaced with rookery. And no god will rule you.
Once the NEW AGE begins, the Trojans will lay scattered as fallen soldiers, covered in yellow grease and dried blood. Your community will elect a gill-witch as LEADER, and then declare all rumptuous blessings and fiery hot bonus shots. The TOOG will relent when the sky weeps.
If you have the courage to travel to the RED PLANET you could become a GOMBO-KING. You could rule many acres on the slopes of Olympus Mons, you could raise scuttle-rat and feed on brinctus-slurry. Your name could be Hlebuus and your woman will have incurable genital crabs.
Qourgon-Xled, the last of the geevers, would sit upon his throne in sector 54. He was a LORD of MARS, ruler of the red sands and the hooker lands. He mined cleavage-oils near the great lamprey sea, he wrestled turly-gators in the Swamps of Gatmos. His eyes were dark blue.
I went DEEP into the deserts of Utah a few weeks ago. My buddy, SLIG, was in search of the old whale-urchin juice and the monkey pie. We made camp on the Creol River, south of Gobo, where they used to hunt whiskey-rhino and the lost cougar bats of S’compton. It was like magic.
Have you had the PASTE? You have to find an old hooker named Rita, she lives 20 minutes from Vernal, in a small fracking village where the oil workers do too much meth. She makes it from her own female power broth, and it’s a powerful mixture that can excite your private zone.
all genders are SKREEGLIX-TYPE-3 now. all holes will be sealed up with boating standard cement glue. all the regions will create plunket-centers, where all types can have hot pokers shoved some place … and in this we shall heal and find totalistic peace and love jumbalaya, kay? The issuance of derivative financial products for the purpose of building specialized “help” centers, whereby ones holes are sealed or closed using a combination of arc welders and industrial glues … this is big man … GET GOLDMAN ON THE PHONE … money, and success, in tow.
It is in moments of fickle tragedy that we find our way back to the wholesomeness of crack cocaine …
U can’t take your weird red tide dreams and make a world, you can’t stop the WOOKIE people from taking their due. A time of great cleansing, when the hairy beasts will run, streaming, from the mountains, is coming and your .300 WIN MAG ain’t gonna do shit, even explosive bullets.
I knew this stripper in SLC. She had blue eyes and black-colored fingernails. Her arms, covered in needle marks, trembled as I touched her flesh. And when she kissed?- it was like kissing a garbage can. But she saved me from the gumptick-folk of Provo, so I had to bring her home.
I knew this DOCTOR in Seattle. He worked out of Pike Place and did street-style Italian surgeries and was willing to remove a kidney for 3 bucks. I asked him “how can I feel that way of youth?”, and he said “seek out the hobo shaman of UTAH .. seek out their ancient oils, grease … not far from where they killed all those orphans and then lied about it.
I was nearly beaten to death by 4 Mormon missionaries 5 miles east of S’compton Utah … and when I awoke, concussed, covered in piss and shit, I could see the great EYE GLOW of the TOTAL MIND looking down upon us as if were we scarab beetles or just monkey children with herpes …
ZINGO CASES work the docks near LA harbor. They pick up boxes marked “KAG” and decide to make sure a few “fall off” the trucks. When they get back to their sewer hideouts in Malibu, they discover a glowing orbis of dung and tryg and whale wax. And the Lord looks down in shame.
Skreeg gangs scour Grinken Town, while the old tiger-girls wear their short skirts and rub trouble-juice on their legs. They give you a wink, and you will be marked for the scoundrel sauce, poor women luring men back to their shanties, in order to feed the cats.
I found the old hag wandering near the median. She had a copy of Hillary’s biography, in her bag, along with the bloody condoms and crack. She spent her days wandering the truck stops, and now her time is done- and no one will know or care. A shadow of a life, gone.
12 generals vie for the EAST. 18 generals wrestle the poor. And the KING? – he talks to the ancient ones, using laser-tubes and glass-wheels. His mind is confused and his hands shake. His women look for skittle-fish, while the high priestess rubs her oily boovula.
I saw an orange, brown and black sky, when I sojourned, briefly, among the swamp people. Their tongues were like jelly-snakes, they drank the mead of hard-death, from cups carved of human bone. No one spent the day questioning the butt poisons, they lived the lie.
I had several whore wives – and they massaged the part of my broken spirit where the roaches laid eggs and the screaming never stopped. They would bring me their tizzle-juice, and I would ungoogliate their boovula with my man pipe. It was dangerous loving, angry.
When I lived among the GROBON-LEAGUE I would spend my days at the pier, looking WEST, towards the sectors and regions and zones that had fewer STDs and crabs. I would ride the ships to Dip Island, and ride the monkey-turtles and drink honey wine. Can we ENDURE?
Schrodinger’s Healthcare Plan Motto: “Leave that shit alone …”
WOMEN in CAGES
There’s something lurid about this story … greasy. It appeals to the ID and the UNCONSCIOUS and to that mixture of Eros and Thanatos that MODERN PEOPLE find so enjoyable.
