Still no drag-queen-story times where I work, must be magical …
Like the Hospital that treated me in 2022 and DGAF about the “covid” or vaccines … magical hospital …
Schrodinger’s Hospital: it’s all scary “they gonna vax you” till you go … iykyk
Utah Hospital
The Magical School
The Building that Burnt Down
The Protest being guarded by cops
The CHOP CHAZ snake pit funded by City of Seattle and fed bucks
Yeah – but I show up, and like one of Schrodinger’s fucking cats, the shit flips over and you see the dark anus truth.
But they keep pushing the fear – especially the public schools and the HAM radio operators and your local party delegate … whether knowingly or not, at this point IDGAF … you can all fuck off … and ?????
“I don’t know WHO for certain runs the earthly things, though they likely report to Satan. I know GOD runs the Universe. Voting has little to do with ANY of it.” – Dr. Freckles
I see you out there, sitting in your underwear, eating chili from a can.
It’s been a long time bro, and many of the gumpton-folk are asking me: “Dan, when the FUCK are you going to publish YOUR MANIFESTO?” Cuz everyone is doing it, it will be bigger than BLOGS by the time this wave hits. For each soul and self, from the mind of fecal swamp spirit healing and circling back to the END of bygone turnip warriors, we will LURCH. We will brag and hag. We will write up a SPEC and send our inner sect the project plan for SCRUM STYLE Rambo-teams. YOUR VOICE WILL BE HEARD, when the great WAVE of manifestos crests, and you lurch and lurch onward, toward the cave … with the light at the end, coming at us fast.
We won’t walk or talk or jog or run …
We’re not here to have fun hun. We’re here to bring the FORCE of ancient juices and other forms of oceanic protein to the kind and gentle folk of sectors 34 and 89.7 on the FM dial. We will lurch and perch, our cider tomboys will sell canister chowder to the customers at Denny’s. Our MEME MASTERS will fashion darker visions, dwelling in the folds of your fatty pilot, sitting in your dingy bone-cave, called YOUR head. Now go to bed, and rest on that.
How many chapters will my manifesto have? – AS MANY AS I FUCKING WANT.
How many followers will I have? – billions … 50 of which will be human.
How many more nights of waking up with chills and spills of near emptied vodka bottles breaking on the floor … my whore girlfriend Tessie, getting messy in the shower because she just got done watching LAW and ORDER?
We lurch because it is a known thing, we lurch and glare because our enemies are hidden from us until they see weakness and pain and the gentle falling of old spirit branches.
Our lurching annoys our masters, so this is a bonus too …
We will lurch to our seats on the BUS, downtown – catching one of the shitty cans to REDMOND to crank out AZURE SCRIPT and rip a bong gong song as the clarinet playing TEAM SCOUT has a bout of gout and spits out that “great idea” about using “Python instead of Power Shell” … and now your help is complete, and this is why you glare and lurch too.
GREAT TIDINGS BESPOKE THIS ERA!
It will signal the coming of a new arrival of beginnings …
Your guide master has been born.
Your willing noggle-mind is ungloved.
In time the LAST of the MOGAMBO FREAKS will REIGN in a REALM of dusky street-sloths and slutty bar maidens. Our SCOB-GARDENS will feed the untapped populous, as the masses of scuzz-urchins devour protein souffle and the discarded roadkill left for us by the ancient demon gods. There will be NO REDEMPTION for the SPACE CADETS and other liars and purveyors of MOON PIE MADNESS!
Your bile duct fantasies are UNSCREWED and TAPPED, making a way for those tired old grandpas living in Fresno.
WE ARE THE SCRUMBO! Living in economic limbo under the overpass near ROUTE 71. We muddle and fuddle and griddle our road apple FEAST and on BUNKTON DAY we celebrate the mite and barley worm stew.
UPON BUNKTON DAY, OUR DAY OF TOTALISTIC REVENGE AND LIBERATION, a day that hasn’t happened yet … but February is boring, so maybe it will happen in February? Listen up, on that special day we will WAKE to a BEAR MUFFIN scent breakfast, and greet each other with smiles and piles of empty whiskey bottles … and say these words to each other, that BUNKTON DAY morning: “Good morning, fuck you, I love you!”
These are the conceived of chapters as of this wake’y bake’y morning …
BOBLIMPTOCK and the BOY’S LIFE HOVERCRAFT
FUCKING with PEOPLE: a primer on military psychological warfare, how to pickup girls at bars, hypnotism and MIND CONTROL (you are lonely)
SOVIETOLOGY: seeing THROUGH the TRAUMA MONKEYS
WHITE TRASH and HYPER RACISM: the PAUL HARVEY EFFECT
Transcend the SCRUMBO mentality: WHAT IS A GRINKEN MAN? or WOAH-MAN? SCRUM style RAMBO is SCRUMBO!
SEXUAL STYLE LOVE SCIENCE and managing lust dragons: ungunjoolating YOUR WOAH-MAN so SHE can reach PEAK SEXUAL MOVIE BUTTER PRODUCTION LEVELS
The Battle of Bunkton Day: of BANKERS and ANGLER FISH AND women will be seeking/leaking after my precious FLAME POTION and will dry it out and snort it on Bunkton Day … some time in February … when the good guys win
Directing Mind Fire and other TOTALISTIC superpowers: EZ payment plan
HOOKTOGGENFOOK: the new KUNG FU
DANARCHY/DANARCHISM: We’re NOT SCIENTOLOGY, we’re a GROOVEMENT (the FIVE TRILLION YEAR HOA and the JOHN LURCH SOCIETY, fuck you pay me)
GREYHOUND: A pilgrimage to Grinken Town, rock hard and cock sure PAIN GARDENS and FUCK PTSD …
BUILDING the GLIDE PLANE: what color is your COMPOUND?
SOUL GLUE and Spiritual Gold: SEA-FLOW, ENERGY DRINKS, how YOU gonna PAY ME? (turn YOU into Nutella? – no tella)
COMMS and TECH and GAMER GALS
CANDLE BLASTERS and our CROOKED MASTERS
Economics: DESTRUCTO FORCE, Reverso-Bastiat and MOON BONDS
YOUR MOUNTAIN of GOLD: what does it mean to be wealthy?
UNIFORMS: Robot Hugo Boss and our dilemma …
The DANISH PROBLEM … (Kris Kringle and Hamlet)
BOBLIMPTOCKTEERS or BOBLIMPNAUTS, fuck, SPACE and BOBLIMPTOCKONAUTS: that NASA Pioneer probe placard …
Prolegomena to all future LURCHING: how to survive?
And maybe we’ll have some other chapters and some other subjects, so don’t be too focused on this pedantic nonsense … or as my old pimp friend would say: don’t pole vault over gnat shit.
It’s gonna be between 15,000 and 25,000 words – all dependent upon how lazy or drunk or distracted I get. I could also get bored. I read Mein Kampf once … I read the Communist Manifesto … I read Kaczynski and so many others over the years … fucking Ayn Rand … fuck … and they are all boring. If I get boring or BORED or BOTH, I will abandon this manifesto and move on to my dream of becoming a geriatric porn star (it’s a growing concern). It must be in the spirit of Bukowski and Channon’s FIRST EARTH BATTALION MANUAL.
The SKY CHARMERS will fear us. They spread the rancid thought-wax of a waning empire. Their mind spiders connect to the ALL BOX and out of that box comes RANDY COCKS, British 70’s porn star. They will harass us, they will bite at our heels, but we will persevere. We are the GROUND CLIMBERS, our mountains are made of pain.
The health insurance companies will DREAD US, as our helpful hints about self-surgery and vodka and 5 pound test fishing line, modeling knives and super glue, mirrors and other devices for doing those necessary self-care chores that keep the body safely from the grave.
The POPE will send his armies, so will Oprah and various Asian gangs … but our movement will be unafraid before that hairy assemblage.
We know the “Southern Poverty Law Center” is ironically named, and this will lead to MORE ATTACKS and MORE ARTICLES published on Zero Hedge … because no one else will touch us, and Zero Hedge thrives on being number 2.
It is OUR JOB to clean up the cities. Don’t show no pity as you roll your HEEMEYER style command vehicle to the town square. YOU ARE THE MAYOR of your OWN JOURNEY SELF. You own the sky-pilot drooling and your cooling brain will gain the DAY, as you slay the various socialites living HIGH on the HOG at Borlaug’s chemical bakery and food fakery.
SO STAND IN THAT SANDBOX BATHROOM, BEFORE THE LOOKING GLASS …
SPEAK THESE WORDS WITH FIERY GLEE, and if you are drunk it might help …
Ahem …
“WE ARE THE LAST OF THE HUMANS, WE CARRY THE CANDLE OF FROLICKING FEAR. WE WILL GET OUR ASSES INTO GEAR TO STAND FAST AND LAST THE WAY OUR BUBBLY WOMAN LIKES. OUR HIKES WILL BE FURIOUSLY HARD AS WE SCALE THE SHIT MOUNTAINS OF FLORIDA. OUR BREATH WILL BE LIKE STALE BEER AND CIGARETTE ASHTRAYS, STARING OUT FROM THE ABYSS. NO ONE WILL STOP US, NO WAY. WE WILL BE THE VICTORY BRINGERS AND BUSTY AND SCANTILY CLAD WOMEN WILL BRING US FRUIT. ALL HAIL THE NEW HUMAN. GOOD MORNING. FUCK YOU. I LOVE YOU.”
What if you can launder lies or deceptions or fake people the same way you launder money?
A lot of things get posed as “A or B” – there’s no “C”. Is that an accident?
You see Alex Jones debating some fool on CNN regarding gun control, and Jones looks bat shit crazy … was that the purpose? – or was the purpose to introduce a simple idea “Alex Jones is real and he represents the opposition”?
When you approach a “news” story, do you ask the question: WHY am I SEEING THIS? Do you assume there is a “free press” where anything that can be randomly observed and discussed is reported? Or are stories curated? Even the puff-pieces, the bleed-leads … curated.
You are allowed to enter the room. The room has writing on the wall that can ONLY be read with a black light. If you turn on the black light, the light turns on. If you turn off the light to make the room dark, the black light turns off. We can have discussions about the wiring and the room, and we can even have conversations about the teleology or PURPOSE of the room, but we can’t and don’t have the basis for a conversation that justifies the “room” as a real place worthy of inspection beyond that of the prisoner inspecting their cell.
I re-watched the Jon Ronson series “The Men Who Stare at Goats” recently, and there was a movie with Ewan MacGregor made about this. It’s worth watching, like the film “Mirage Men”, to get an overview of how mind control and military psychological warfare work.
In the Ronson series there are characters who pop up, and at one point COL Alexander is correcting Ronson one WHO stopped the heart of a goat. And Alexander points him at Guy Savelli, and Savelli seems like a grifter … he has a VHS tape or he doesn’t, he makes up stories about hamsters in a cage. He never produced a video showing him kill a goat or a hamster, but if you watch the documentary and sense the tension in Ronson’s well practiced speech, you are left with: Guy Savelli is real, a person, don’t question that. But I wonder, why did my instincts tell me when I first saw this guy that he seemed manufactured, constructed.
This is a bit of a ramble, and perhaps the reasoning isn’t quite there.
My point is simple: sometimes the purpose of the propaganda or manipulation or trauma-monkey or PSYOP isn’t so much about the superficial message, sometimes it’s purpose is far simpler: to introduce a fake thing as real.
BTW: this is part of the metaphysics of sheep dipping.
And why sheep-dogs are critical. Alex Jones, Tucker, etc …
The sheep dogs guard the boundary between what is fake and what is real, and they give you some stuff that seems real … but they toss that stuff back in the paddock of the FAKE.
