I remember Mrs Muggleworth’s celery paste, Puddle Flower would come home from the shallows, and bring me Spring Jebson’s Cotton tacos and Shirley style clam cake with celery paste.
Why can’t it be like it used to be?
Remember when we’d buy unicorn sauce from Treb, on the corner? He’d sell it from out behind the shed where his mother gave birth to him. It would be slick and brown and tangy, it added spark and life to our otherwise droll stoog-rations. Nestor-snakes would hunt our babies, but at least we had unicorn sauce.
remember that?
I used to play jump-it ball with the boys in the open lot across from the nuclear factory. We’d rub radioactive mud on our junk and wear hats made from mutant flowers, for hours we’d dance and play, with nothing left to do or say but cut the tumors off our arms, for dinner. And when that time ended? – we had the deadly “green clouds” from Denver, and that was nice too. I wonder, will it ever be like that again?
Do you think?
Can we MAGA this bitch?
Cum-steaks used to be really popular among the French people in Dallas. You’d see them up late, with doongle-hammers, beating out the JUICE. The stench of dirg-leeches filled the air as those dark figures of regret drifted in and out of their own shame castles. And mom would cook up skizz-stew for the dorb-master, and life was simple.
Can it be like that again, if we try real hard?
MAGA?
Dad had some kind of den below the barn …
There’d be these screams at night, and you’d never ask – not unless you wanted something, something real bad to happen. Sure, there were garbage bags filled, moved, dumped in Lake Gorch … for the tringle fish to feed upon. And his hands would be stained red, and his affect cold, and his eyes staring miles ahead of his heart. We would all have pancakes.
Can MAGA BLUMP save us so that we can have this again?
We used to make slab-loaf for parties, celebrations. Nurse Yuul would bring Danish style short-ribs, and our home would be filled with mist and smiles. Mom would render the grissolm-fat into some kind of form and mix in parrot droppings and rat marrow and dying frog goo. It would take hours to make, but everyone felt good about it, it was special …
It’s not your standard 4-token crypto-investment plan, it has layers of complex dis-intermediation and reverse vampire Kung Fu grip. You can’t take it on an airplane, but you’ll open your third eye when the SKY FLAG waves high. It’s SEA-FLOW.
Here’s how it’s gonna work baby …
You recruit ten people or more into SEA-FLOW. If you tell me you CAN’T recruit at least TEN people into SEA-FLOW, then we’ll have a difficult conversation. I’ll probably pick you up in my BLACK FORD ECONOLINE VAN to “go have coffee” … the VAN with the back door welded shut, and there’s no windows … and the side door INSIDE handle don’t work … and there’s a metal grate between me and the passenger. Ask me what happens if you don’t recruit 10 people into SEA-FLOW.
Once you have your AT LEAST 10 people, working for you … each of them pays you, monthly, ten dollars … that’s like NOTHING … a couple gallons of gas baby. YOU pay me, for those 10, and for each multiple after? – 8 for every 10 dollars, or 80 dollars per 100 – but you get to keep $20 a month … and that’s huge. You see. Each of your recruits will also be making money off of recruits – and everyone knows the rule (push it UP and take a small cut). Bottom line, I get 80% of the pie, and you need to get your recruits recruiting. Will there be “nutrient drinks” we sell? – FUCK YEAH … SEA-FLOW PROTEIN …
Key learning point: SEA-FLOW money doesn’t ADD UP, IT FLOWS UP … up to me.
Let’s talk about SEA-FLOW PROTEIN …
When you’re selling SEA-FLOW LIFESTYLE BRAND IMAGE to your recruits, you need to have a compelling fucking story. And this is the story of Dr. Brandy Windross of the Bocheevian Institute of Oils of Chile. One day, while scavenging in her bikini outfit, covered in oils, her boobs and boovula unjoolating as she scampered over those stony beach outcroppings … one day while doing this, she came across SEA-FLOW.
SEA-FLOW PROTEIN isn’t even called that …
It’s called FLOWTEIN …
SEA-FLOW is PACKED with FLOWTEIN.
“Doc Brandy”, as her friends call her at the strip club, had been researching rejuvenating juices and concoctions that can be rubbed on one’s boobs while running an Only Fans account. That day she found SEA-FLOW, it was just a little precious thing, a globule of living tissue and scroglon-flesh. Doc Brandy took that little thingy home, and subjected it to electricity and x-rays and alpha/beta radiation … damnable little thingy. But that chunk of munctous did not die … and that’s when she discovered SEA-FLOW.
Her scientological mind broke down the various amino acids and skeb-molecules and metal shavings and moss. She formatted her life-disk array and started Crispr’ing away. The day turned dark, and the clouds came a running, and out of the sky LIGHTNING, THUNDER. SEA-FLOW was born of such, and a fair amount of weirdness.
Now, you can elaborate on this story based on your audience – BUT DON’T EVER GET TOO FUCKING SPECIFIC ABOUT WHAT IS IN SEA-FLOW … could just be pulverized Japanese seaweed wrappers … we don’t know, you’d have to ask Brandy.
The SEA-FLOW LIFESTYLE is the THING …
You need to have a big digital file of attractive people, doing cool shit. Like some twenty something brunette, getting out of her LIMO and the paparazzi get a NIB-SLIP pic – but everyone smiles and goes to Tahiti. The pics are of people in good shape – physically. Your recruits will probably not be that physically attractive … BUT … everyone can benefit from a SEA-FLOW FACIAL and MAKEOVER.
Some SEA-FLOW recruits will be quite comely, and those between the age of 25 and 35 should be sent MY WAY, up the mountain to see old Mr Pizzle-Witz … and that’s how they will become SEA-FLOW ADMIRALS in the SEA-FLOW SEA-ORG.
Yes – other multi-level schemes have had “SEA-ORGS”, but no one OWNS billion year contracts … it’s just, well …. no one could conceivably honor a billion year contract … fucker.
Our SEA-ORG contracts are for just 1,000 years … and we have the tech to keep your brain, alive, in a jar, running a robot, that makes wallets. You’ll do that after you go through body-death, and transition to your SEA-ORG LIFESTYLE BRAND. Don’t you see how this is already changing your life mother fucker?
We’ll have the DOUGIST INSTITUTE in RENO, where I live on the 30th floor of our custom CASINO STYLE WORSHIP CENTER … dedicated to SEA-FLOW.
I’ll live up there, at the top of the SEA-FLOW CENTER, fingernails and toenails long and snarled … walking about in dirty underwear, but no other clothes … hair grown out to an unruly length. Storing my urine in jars. SEA-FLOW living …
SEA-FLOW will have 47 levels of totalistic self-creational-moto-planes. Plane ZERO squeebs are the first level mendicants, they snivel and trap woggo-flies and prepare meat pies for the level 1 cat-gerders.
We have a SEA-FLOW LAB in almost every major city …
At the LAB you can have your aura checked with our energy-work scanner. We also attach the line from a field phone to your privates and we ask you questions … it’s not very comfortable. We call it “evaluating”. Everyone gets evaluated at SEA-FLOW.
If you stay in guy, get those recruits, get them paying? – eventually you get to look at the “glowing chest”. And in that chest are documents and drawings, etchings on stone and steel. It’s a real treat to learn the mythology BEHIND it all … I mean EVERYTHING.
There was once a DARK LORD named ZECTOR …
ZECTOR ruled the 55 SECTORS of the HOWLING TIME – the time when much of the universe howled, no one knows why.
ZECTOR was BIG into FRENCHIES … French bulldogs. He bred them and harvested them for the dungool factories. So many little frenchies went INTO the “Rod Steiger” machine.
No one wanted to buy ZECTOR’s dogs or his stew meat that he sold, in can’s that had Rod Steiger’s face on them …. so Zector grew angry. He ordered his galactic air force to load up the galactic space cruisers with all these jerks, they looked very much like Boeing 737s, and have them frozen and then dropped into volcanoes …
A lot of SEA-FLOW customers start with the $200/bottle of FLOWTEIN-9 FORMULA … but others are more ready to take on the joy-hancement and adventure of FLOWTHRAX-MILLED PEAT JUICE for $2,000 a carton … and it’s really just about your comfort level …
“I kept hearing about SEA-FLOW, but then I WAS PART OF it … and my wife left me … but I feel great.” – Actual Sea-Flow Client
SEA-FLOW associates make, on average, $4,000,000 a MONTH … ON AVERAGE!
SEA-FLOW regional VPs get VIP access status at the various GOOB clubs in NYC.
You can take your girl OUT … to the ZOO … show her a good time …
You can meet BIG TIME SHIT HEADS at the SEA-FLOW Celebrity Center …
If we freedom really hard, Elon will take us to MARS.
If we freedom all day long, we’ll have in our hearts a happy song.
At journey’s end our friend DEAR BEN, will tell us a story of dankness and Zen.
Our freedom souls burn with light, getting ready for a MEME LORD fight.
If our freedom world glows with love, it’s cuz we sniff Stalin’s glove.
When our freedom gets kind of tight, we skin the harpy in the night.
Freedoming comes when your mind is broke, it’s no joke, you walk on down to Brim’s Tavern and meet Brownie Boy and the other ZED masters, they’ve been sucking on blues all day …
But hey …
We are FREEDOMING so hard, and one day we’ll freedom on Mars.
Anyone else feel like they’re freedoming right now?
I’m freedoming so hard I’m about to shoot liberty goo.
I keep FREEDOMING with SEA-FLOW?
My testicles start to glow …
And I’m the envy of every bro and ho … and Joe, living in dough-town, with a frown and a Kenny Russel butt plate splint.
There are 8 paths to Eagles style love making. You’re driving your Maserati up the coast from Frincton, CA. You stop at Dooglie’s cone shop, where your woman tells you she’s PREGNANT – and, bonus, “it’s your brother’s”. You leave her there, to contemplate FROOG-STYLE sundae cones, as you drive faster up that coast highway, till the mugshot women find you, dried out and desperate, not far from San Diego – and your cart hauler spirit is dragging fumes.
There are more cat tears in your sea of love than love bars in your ocean of beers.
There are more bat turds in your chili bun, than your honey bunch munches on sparrow marrow and glass hog candies, on WEDNESDAYS.
THERE ARE XORX MINES where the witches lurk. There work is complete on each NEW FRIDAY, after the scarlet moss settles and the bustle of the endeavor is over. No more COOL TIME CHARLIES for these minx bitches … And if you could hear them scream? – you’d know some lucky “Mark” or “Chad” got had, and ended up in the VITAMIX, and is ready to feed TRIX the CAT, with a hint of cilantro … and they don’t mistreat hoes no more.
There are 2 obelisks glowing on Norg Mountain. The topless frolickers sell pterodactyl wine, and the sun sets on the last empire of COOM. My lost lover found her way to that green valley where the elf merchants danced and the wolf masters sharpened their swords for battle. Sure, the battle would be held in the empty expanse, beyond the great desert, where the puddle flowers bloom. And my jeopardy chances are low, and THERE ARE ways to overcome skuzz-terror.
There are OLD STYLE PANDA EXPRESS stores in Grinken Town, not far from where they held that Satanic ritual 5 years ago. Dusty boots and grease stained jeans march slowly, onward, to SCOMPTON and the trumpeters of BOBLIMPTOCK can be heard miles away. The RED BEAR hides in the woods, awaiting his prey fury; it was his cane soul yearning for that JEDI style sweet and sour panda that made the darkness come. And once the recipe for MCNUGGETS was revealed? – all the joints stole the point and injection molded SADNESS into silicon forms. And out comes these things, made of panda and chicken, and you’re finger licking good at acceptance now … your 5 stages complete.
There are Mexican jumping-beans hunting the walrus near the Castle of Steel …
There are jack-o-lantern beer badgers making money off of wagering: which surfer will be eaten by a shark FIRST.
There are TREE DOCTORS, stuck in the bush, as the lush undergrowth bring out the lusty hands … and the grabbing and stroking leads to 9 months of captured effluence and sewer baby nightmares.
There are TORCH CARRIERS, in South Carolina, wearing coffee filters and chanting “MAGA … MAGA … MAGA”, but their custom underwear is leeching asbestos.
There are times we get trapped by robot boomers and nonsense coomers and zoomers wearing onesies and picking posies by the way …
There are GREAT MINI-VAN squadrons, of white women with frowns and dead eyes and jaundice from too many boosters. They form gangs and look for BIG TRUCKS and BIG GUNS and big winnings at the broken slot machine near 7/11.
There are light bringers, from thousands of light years away, who have ships of crystal titanium and jergin-style meat cushions. All the bodies get dumped.
There are the lost KENTUCKY COWBOYS, those who hunted DICK JAMES and WAYNE TORPSON. They had these six shooters that fired .700 nitro express and nobody messed with them, ever. After fighting and drinking all day? – they’d hang out at Trev’s Pub, and fight and drink all night. Kevin, the sheep thief, burns with that dinnertime frustration and the triangle clings, and the buffet party begins at Donner Pass.
There are faerie tale wonders, stuck in between hurricanes and tempests.
There are dolphins which talk to squirrels.
There are SKY HAWK SHAMAN reaching into your pocket, to sell you a SKY HAWK dream.
There are too many ways to die …
There are too many waiting to live.
There are …
And then …
There are not …
Until there is someone to take out the trash, there is …
