"GRAVY FOR YOUR BRAIN!" – Conspiracy Theory (1997)
The NWS/NOAA should really hire me …
They have to come up with names for all these new weather formations, but I can do that …
“The Bible is a book that cleverly doesn’t really have an ending, the Word is forever.” – Dr. Freckles
“The open hole of hell has meth mouth.” – Dr. Freckles
I was awake in bed as I looked out the window, all the way to the end of infinity …
In the blackness, out there in space, some person was looking back at me …
In the blackness, there are strangers with eyes and hands and hunger, looking back …
Been a lot of “military vehicles in the cities” garbage lately … reminds me of 2020.
“The only thing cheaper than running a military vehicle around town is running video of it.” – Dr. Freckles
We celebrate JUNETEENTH in honor of the black troglor armies rising up against the GAMALON war machine after the last of the jedi were destroyed.
After the Battle of Pan, the STAR LORD black armies of the onyx Wakandan king took his time driving out the dorken forces and STUGGS.
We celebrate JUNETEENTH in honor of the 42 DOOGAL WARRIORS that killed Lincoln to save the republic from the forces of General ZOD from Vulcan.
Wakandan navies roamed the seas, in search of sperm-magic and white women to ingrooboolate …
And the 8th sector dolomite wins.
When Wakanda defeated the Mexicans at the Battle of Guadalupe, that was the MOMENT JUNETEENTH became REAL …
Slaker types, with large veiny rods, round up the white flesh into pens where they are bred out to fulfill the needs of GOOMBAH the ONE TRUE PIMP …
Swarthy and dusky shirtless men are wandering your streets … looking for some ivory flesh to ravage …
I dream of a final clan battle between all the homo sapiens frug-gangs carrying homemade shotguns and glunket-canon and lead pipes …
On JUNETEENTH all the gangs will line up and fight, breaking the skulls of their enemies and suckling upon the roasted pig of their grease pain.
I heard the FALK-LORD declare that all the DARK ARMIES should converge on DALLAS and wring from that WHITE MAN’S CITY the justice of 10,000 years of slavery.
Our CROCKON-ARMS have dengiz guns and swords and war hammers. We’ll smash up your white man fantasy of retirement, beer.
JUNETEENTH is the celebration of the RIGHT of any group of swarthy looking hoodlums to break into some WALMART and BUM RUSH those places with my flash mob power justice …
cream women and milk maidens will be chased down the streets, tied up and ungumoolated …
THE AFRICAN MAN is a singular beast seeking after white flesh and artisanal and locally brewed craft beer.
The African man has formed up armies outside your town, and is waiting, by the fire, to STRIKE …
JUNETEENTH is about celebrating the ZULU ARMIES of GENERAL MUMBATOO …
His GROIL FOLK armed with bicycle chain shall wander your streets and seek after your catalytic converter and busty wife …
They don’t care about their lives, and will trade 10 for 2 just to break into your romper room and steal all your gold and ammo …
And as your family is destroyed, you will only hear grunting.
Today’s one of those days when I want to build a DYSON HOT ROD …
I want to coast through the universe in my solar system sized starship at a slow clip of 20% the speed of light …
The gravitational wake from my speedster will bring destruction to so many petty civilizations.
Imagine the STAR CRUISER meet ups at the end of time, the DARK VORG-GROODER will ride into combat with his BILLION MILE LONG X-TRA KLASS MEEG-SEEDER … powered by a captured black hole, the entire DURGIS-NAUT steers through the cosmos, breaking havoc to the lesser folk, who decided NOT to build DYSON HOT RODS …
And then something happened.
Life is not validated, promised, pure – eternal life IS ALL OF THESE THINGS …
But life on planet Boblimptock? – it’s grimy and scummy and putrid and horrifying and filled with a disproportionate number of crap heads.
So I found out I need to find a new place to live, and it’s not because of any personality conflict or issue – it’s simply reality.
“Sometimes reality happens.” – Dr. Freckles
If you’ve read my scribbled words, or listened to my frenzied podcasts, you may have gotten the idea that I believe some difficult times are ahead that might be, for all intents and purposes, unprecedented – perhaps even Biblical. I am not a prophet, so I can’t say much more than this.
What I can say is that it’s HARD for people to find some random space for a middle aged dude, and it’s hard, at this point in human history, to find a lifeboat welcoming of a curmudgeonly old pothead who drinks beer BUT will walk your dogs. I will walk dogs and dog sit. This is something I have testimony concerning, just ask for a reference. I’m going to miss boomer.
Yeah, I’m going to miss boomer. In the strangest way this mutt has been my psychotherapist these last few years. I always had this fantasy of WHAT IF, and the vision of some ranch or piece of land in the mountains, where me and my friends and the dogs would live. I always dreamed of that magical “reprieve” you’re supposed to get, at middle age, if you’re willing to take a stroll down the storm drain, towards another world.
In this magical tube world, you take your sacred pup and tap into his scrombozoid ways. Boomer’s mind tunnel technology, known only to dogs, will allow us to transport our poop smells between dimensions … end … finally … Boomer and I will end up ruling the solar system … but what then … what’s next?
If we could dance like kings, Boomer and I, COSMIC STERF-REALM HERDERS, finding time drifters and dimensional madmen.
I dwell with those masters of asteroid gold who become the ONTO-LORDS of Delvic-88332, and those people have no sense of humor …
Boomer and I will convert the solar mass of our solar system into a super star ship … not a “Dyson Sphere”, but instead a Dyson-Hot-rod X-Ray Tango 900 …
A super ship, billions of miles long …
A super ship stretching from rim to edge, in which the SUN is now a power plant and warp engine … and who knows … maybe we capture a pulsar to use as a canon and a black hole as an improved warp drive …
And maybe Boomer and and are listening to Chicago on random as we coast to the edge of the cosmos, turning on our hyper time drive, traveling 4 trillion times the speed of light …
At the edge of time, we encounter angels, and they say the following:
“A time of hurried expectation is upon us child.”
And so am I worried about not having a place to live in a couple weeks? – yes.
Is it possible some bad things happen because of this? – sure, bad things happening all over.
Do I wish there were a way out? – yes.
And this is where I SCREAM at GOD and say DEAR LORD, SHOW ME A WAY OUT!
And if there is silence, it is NOT for the lack of God’s love, no …
There is silence because of the ANGER I SHOW in summoning God in such a way.
I can LISTEN when I’m ready to hear.
I can PRAY when I’m ready to obey.
I can FORGIVE when I’m ready to love.
But this does little to change the trajectory of Boomer and myself and our notional stellar sized star ship capable of creating 3 parsec wakes that end up swamping EVERY CLASS BOBLIMPTOCK CIVILIZATION. And we were meant to be the final CAST MEN the REAL GERDERS we would and could tower over the midget men of the desolate plane.
I kept a BUST-SHURG hoogen-priestess, whose boovula is in-grease-tified and her own bustyness would shine and wiggle as a trophy to all TARG ZURG-GRIEGEN and other stone TORDOR and other woodland freaks …
The simple truth is this: in a few weeks I will be homeless, through no fault of my own OR the friend I rent a room from. It is simply reality. I have people living out of cars right now, that’s reality too. If I “fit” better, maybe I’d be at Redmond, writing code as some kind of code monkey contractor that doesn’t give two fucks about shit … if I fit. I don’t fit.
I would say: “If you can help”
And I know most will say, “I wish I could”, and that’s the simple truth.
But, queerly, I sense an angel, telling me: “Worry not my son, this is a time of hurried expectation.”
(and maybe “needing a place to stay” by late August, as crazy as it sounds, might mean something too …)
(but now I sound loopy)
(because I need a place to live)
Some truth about the job market right now:
Online Job Engine User 1: “A lot of great jobs in New York, too bad I’m in Utah …”
Online Job Engine User 2: “A lot of great jobs in Utah, too bad I’m in New York …”
(and does it work like that dating site when you first log on?)
“You don’t want to be a biblical prophet, it’s a lot of Hansel and Gretel type being fed to tigers bullshit.” – Dr. Freckles
“Dr. Freckles is the Mark Twain of our David Hasselhof.” – Dr. Freckles