“You can deal with your trauma, in whatever clean or messy way you have, or you can BECOME your trauma. It’s never been easier than that.” – Dr. Freckles
The KING of “logic” …
“The NON SEQUITUR has become KING since 2020.” – Dr. Freckles
Heaven for grifters …
“If there were a ‘heaven’ for grifters, it would look like WA DC.” – Dr. Freckles
Monty Python GAZA …
“if they weren’t HAMAS, why did they catch fire?” – Monty Python Does GAZA
Authentic community …
“There is great wealth is authentic community, more than most can imagine – especially today’s ‘billionaires’.” – Dr. Freckles
Central banking …
“Central banking has only one true destiny: horror.” – Dr. Freckles
Pi and Rounding Errors … and fractions …
“Pi is ONE BIG ROUNDING ERROR. Fractions are perfect until they’re not.” – Dr. Freckles
Free world …
“In a free world anything is possible that nature allows, in a prison there is only death.” – Dr. Freckles
“BAD APPLES”
“With all the ‘bad apples’ in the law enforcement world, you’d think the tree would be dead.” – Dr. Freckles
Your dog’s vocabulary …
“The vocabulary of your dog is roughly equivalent to the shopping list of a keto person.” – Dr. Freckles
The enemy of my enemy …
“The enemy of my enemy is an anemone.” – Dr. Freckles
MOON LANDER
No offense voters …
“No offense voters, but most of your ‘solutions’ look like Lennie to me.” – Dr. Freckles
Keynesianism …
“Keynesianism: MARXISM for people who like the ‘color in the lines’ game at the restaurant.” – Dr. Freckles
REAL numbers …
“Real numbers get real interesting real fast.” – Dr. Freckles
Opening your third eye …
“Opening your third eye is an invitation, not a demand.” – Dr. Freckles
“As a hunter …”
AS A HUNTER …
I can’t believe you “gun” people … your guns and your gun shows and your ammo reloading … fuck …
I’ll tell you what I do:
I strip down to my loin cloth, and hone a spear with my buck knife and my fire …
I cover myself in mule grease, and then sit out all night, whispering to the trees and moss … connecting with my wolf-self …
Then, at the appointed time, I chase down that hairy beast and consume its munkton-flesh while the moon glows, and the sun is nearly broke upon the horizon.
As a hunter …
I reach for the old style techniques, of monitoring poop flows and assessing the dayglo-sauce of deer-snakes and hester-monkeys …
I gave up on soft-style party living, and now my waters run clean from the mountainside to the prairie hovel … where my hooker bride waits, and my 12 kids hunt possum for dinner.
We wear barley armor and provide LIGHT in the dark woods …
We are true HUNTERS, looking for adventure. Sure, we take it easy when doing “Kentucky Style Love Making” on a Saturday night … but our hearts beat strong for those bong-doodles, and our women wear thongs while singing that song about twerking …
We hunt the grease, we feed on the meat barnacles.
We are hunters.
I started picking at it …
I started picking at the scar on my arm …
The one from when I broke it a year ago …
The surgical scar, where they taped my humerus back together with aviation tape and form-a-gasket and bondo …
I pick at it, and it bleeds, and I can see the metal wire, rusty, covered in fleas …
You would say “Dan, stop messing around”, but I heard a sound and moved fast. It couldn’t last, not the last of the JERG-WIZARDS, mixing elixirs and ancient pudding. And just like that the smoke cleared and I could see the bare bone and I groaned in pain as I shoved broken glass and wood chips in the wound.
I pulled on the broken plastic clamp holding the bone in place, and scratched at the remodeled bone with my rusty pocketknife …
It spoke, the bone, cursed flesh and marrow:
“The first of the KLUNGIT-ARMIES, being led by LORD JANGIS, is moving on S’compton … they just sacked Grinken Town.”
I’ll blame the SECTOR CHIEFS and the coyote herders.
I’ll take account of those DINGLE farmers, sharecropping the broken hearted no man’s land of BOBLIMPTOCK … Ungoobulating their women folk, greasing their boovulas.
And my bone is CHILLED MAX ICE …
And I pick at it for comfort.
Moral compromise …
“Government is moral compromise made flesh.” – Dr. Freckles
They “HATE” to say it …
“If they say they ‘hate to say it’, they love to say it.” – Dr. Freckles