How I broke my arm?

MP3: https://planetarystatusreport.com/mp3/20230310_How_I_Broke_My_Arm.mp3

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Wag the Dog … (The Ukraine War)

  1. doesn’t mean people aren’t dying – great USA psyops are also snuff flicks
  2. doesn’t mean it’s “okay” – could be the pretext for using nuclear war to “cleanse the Earth” of the excess hoi polloi
  3. Imagine a statement like this during any other war? Vietnam? War on Terror? Korea or WW2?

Broke …

“If it’s broke, use coke.” – Dr. Freckles

My THOTS …

“My dumbest thots are my best hookers.” – Dr. Freckles

How I broke my arm?

Back in December I was involved with a girl named Debra. She had green eyes and a clean body, she smoked snail-mix and loved the Bee Gees. We were at Nick’s off of Hallor Street, when we encountered her ex-husband, Neil. Neil was an oil worker and a line worker and a tree cutter and a speed freak, he spent his days near the train station, looking for spare parts the railroad dumps, and other things. His face turned red with pure anger, and he ran at me – tossing me on the floor and beating me senseless. Luckily, my dog Boomer pulled him off and bit off his nuts, but not before this shit head took brick from the door jam and split my humerus in half … for-realsies … this sucked.

I was drifting through space … lost to all I love. My ship, the “Yulia”, was headed to Zeta-Prime-Alpha-67-Charlie in the BRAVO Quadrant of sector-33, in the “cautious zone” … not a forbidden zone mind you … you just need to be cautious. My main fusion drive was overheating, after having finished chasing the pirates of Zelton around the dark star called Glyb. I went down to the engine room to help repair the magnetic bottle armature and super conducting magnet array. My Chief Engineer, Klevon, was a Jabronian. He was from the Newark Star System and he grew up on the galactic shores of East Philly. I noticed that Klevon was unconscious on the deck and the main coolant spindle was reverberating at an incredible rate. I grabbed my Leatherman, and pulled out the Phillips bit, and began torque’ing down the strumulator, which is connected to the whammy bar. At that moment, there was a burst of orgolion radiation, and it through me across the engineering deck. When I came to in the med bay, my nurse/girlfriend/hooker/accountant was massaging my “fuel seam” in order to excite my tinkle zone … but yeah … I’d completely busted my left humerus in two and fuck all about the pirates!

Hunting Grizzly … I encountered a pack of cougars being led by a mangy, out of control, wookie woman named Michelle. She was pungent and hairy, her breath smelled like cigarettes and Clairol and stale beer and popcorn. She had a bunch of cougars she’d rounded up and cornered in a cave near Mt. Gabriel, not far from the Gable Woods where the human footprints were discovered near the dinosaur footprints. I was hunting grizzly bear, and had just finished washing my svelte body in a hot spring – I was naked when I left that pool, as the wookie woman stood 40 feet above on the trail. She sent her cougars after me, busty and frothing, and ingunjulating their boovulas. It was a swampy spot, and we wrestled, nakedly, in such a itchy and burny way … after wrestling several cougars, I grew weary and ran for my camp and my 900 Winchester Magnum X-Ray lever action rifle. I was a mean cannon and hit hard. I fired two rounds at that terrible wookie, but she overtook me and tossed me into a ravine. Days later, a busty 34 year old female park ranger found me, there, naked, and brought me back to her cabin – she nursed me back to health, even setting my broken left humerus in a cast. And we spent the winter together … RIGHT?

There was a GRAND submarine battle … and I was a lowly navigator. Our sub was fighting the Russians near Dallas, Texas, and we were overtaken by a “Mexican Style Harley” which is a lot like a “Chinese Mix Chopper” and it was BAD. It could move at 120 knots under water, and carried the Epsis-3000 super torpedo. The Russians had a mean admiral in charge, Chirgov. He was a legend in the submarine races, the ones at the lake, where you were conceived … anywho. Chirgov fired 9 of these fucking torpedoes at our boat, and this caused a rupture in our hull that I helped repair. While working on that hole, a piece of stray reinforcing steel came lose and hit my left arm, breaking my humerus IN TWO. We won the battle against those fucking Russians, but I spent many months recovering from that injury.

The caves and tunnels of S’compton … a dangerous place to meet a hooker. I was lonely one Monday night, December 19th 2022 to be exact, I was watching dumb ass NETFLIX documentaries about white people killing white people but feeling bad about it … but … I was really wanting a warm body next to mine on that cold winter’s night. So I went to Craig’s List and typed into the search box “hot butt boobie style action Vernal Utah”, and you’d be SURPRISED the results I got back. I scanned them, looking at their pics, imaging the scenarios of our encounters, greasy, nasty, rough, brutal, real, sex. The kind of lovemaking where your bodies melt together at the end, and your kisses are sugar drop masterpieces. “Gerdy” said she’d meet you, near S’compton Caves, but only after midnight. Okay … I sent her a message on Snap Chat, we interacted a little and negotiated a standard price. I arranged to meet her at midnight, and I stole an old Chevy to get there. At the caves, Gerdy was already undressed … her sultry body glistening in the icy cold, her breasts fully aroused and stiffened. We made love like desert hounds, next to that roaring fire of pine and pain. At daybreak, her pimp Joel showed up with his 4 Mormon brothers, and I didn’t have money to pay for Gerdy, and they proceeded to break my left humerus over a rock … so here I am. Lesson learned? – you betcha … don’t go to Vernal.

Making love to a super advanced robot woman … this is the path to madness baby. I was reading Boy’s Life, and in the back, next to the advertisement for the “build your own hovercraft kit” was an entry for something AMAZING: “Build Your Own Robot Lover”. As we should accept, I’m a lonely burnt out code monkey mother fucker … and no one is going to warm my bed unless it’s to torch it with gasoline, but I digress … The advertisement was for plans to build the robot, not the actual robot – and it claimed you could do this for $500, if you lived near a Home Depot. I bought the plans, they arrived, and I began building Regina, my robot style lover. It took weeks, and pvc tubing, and rebar, and small motors and pistons and pulleys and lots of rubber cement. By December of 2022 I was done, and on the 19th of that month I turned that bitch on … there was smoke and sparks and weird arcs of electricity, her eyes, made of LED cameras, flickered and came to life. I began massaging her boovulex, and she conjoined with my stleevtous. After a few minutes, she kind of went crazy, asked for my credit card, and then broke my left humerus … fuck … fuck that robot.

Walking to the grocery store to get potato chips … but Lay’s Wavy plain? On December the 19th of last year, it was a Monday and I was in a really shitty mood. I woke up, got a donation, tried to transfer it to my bank from Paypal, and it didn’t work and it made me wonder if TODAY was the DAY I would be financially cancelled. I called the bank to resolve the issue and borrowed twenty bucks from my friend to go get some beer to drink and to lose myself. When I was done drinking the temperature outside was around zero degrees Fahrenheit, and it was kinda breezy, if not windy. I wanted to get a small bag of Lay’s Wavy (plain) chips, because they’d been really pixelated, unreliable, lately – some weeks the grocery store has them, some weeks they don’t. But darn it, no matter how cold it was or icy or windy, I was going to get some fucking potato chips. About a quarter of a mile from my home I hit a very slippery patch, near a street’s metal walled curb, and fell just perfectly, on that ice, that my left humerus hit the curb, as if some neo-Nazi stomper demon had done this on purpose. It was a lucky shot. My left humerus broken in two …

Why?

Because I wanted to go buy some potato chips.

Sanity and freedom …

“If you attach your freedom to your sanity, the government will simply re-classify the sane as crazy.” – Dr. Freckles

“But Dan, I just want to make sure crazy people don’t get guns …”

“You mean like you were, after the divorce, when you were taking anti-depressants?”

“That’s RACIST!”

(and scene)

Moving to an age …

Get into your FORD ECONOLINE van …

Stop at the CHEVRON, and load up on gas and cigarettes and whiskey and love …

WE’RE MOVING!

WE’RE MOVING to an AGE!

I’d say we’re moving to an age of scrotal enlightenment, and one day crab cures at 7/11 …

I’d say we’re moving to an age of one night stands and old time’y cocaine festivals …

I’d say we are being pushed, to the event horizon, of a lost world of dollar store nightmares …

We’re building our cliff dwelling lifestyles not far from the old abandoned school, we’re chopping up woodchuck spleen, and adding in some pepper and watching it bloom … we’re moving …

I’d say we’re moving to an age where JESSE JACKSON sells Teslas to jackals …

I’d say we’re moving to an age where douche bag priests take pictures of swallows …

I’d say the KRIEGUZ-REALM has fallen, and all the old demon lords are dead …

I’d say my Jezebel proctologist is done testing my urine for poo, and done testing my poo for champagne … we’re on the MOVE.

We’re heading west of S’compton, as trailblazers and weird fantastic freaks. We’ll make magic as we make hay and sell our junk sausage to old miserable pock faced shit heads who run the swizzle game and feed on girl glass. It’s an age of mountains on fire and the aerie world of regret spinning out of control – our own minds melted by time’s stale torch.

We can hack it on the high seas, dodging whale carcass and decaying reefs. We’ll build a home on plastic land, the giant plastic island, the continent of crap – and our children will feed on the motor oil fowl, they’ll run from shark and snake, they’ll BBQ bush meat and simmer in urine duress. As we bleed, our path is more clear and the land is further away …

Because we’re moving …

Moving to an AGE.

[curated: 3/10/23]

She

She took the jab, so I left her on the slab …

She did a lot of cocaine, and it drove her insane …

She took the long way home, now she lives as a hooker in Gnome …

She bought a crazy dog, it chased her into the bog …

She bred with laser cats, her babies were rabies bats …

She rode the camel thong, she finished off diesel bong …

She stole my brazen heart, just because I had to fart …

She smoked a mongo joint, I didn’t even see the point …

She ate her girlfriends vee, made her blind so she couldn’t see …

She hunts the wild boar, because she’s a nasty whore …

She killed the mean old man, he came from robot-Japan …

She sucked a giant cock, and now she looks like Spock …

She found the golden bow, her heart was cold as snow …

She danced with Michael J, her heart said it was okay … (except she was 8)

She formed a sacred cult, her boyfriend’s name was Bolt … Bolt Cockmeyer …

She filmed JFK, she screamed “it’s not okay” …

She hurt her grandma Joan, as she stabbed her she could hear her moan …

She drank the monkey paste, her turds expelled with haste …

She cast a Mexican curse, her boyfriend now has a purse …

She is my jungle queen, she had to make a scene …

She built a castle wide, with her pimp daddy by her side …

[curated: 3/14/2023]

Time for Hitler …

What if there were a “Time Hitler”, alone and dislodged in the future?

What if he’s around today, just lonely … just wanting a friend?

People have time for their cat …

but they have no time for Hitler …

People have time to call their moms …

But no one has time for Hitler …

(except for your moms … we just finished crepes in bed)

people have time for breakfast …

(but no time for Hitler)

People have time to garden, to raise some crops for their bratty kids …

People have time for pizza, to enjoy with a friend after that great football match …

People have time to smoke pot, and we all know how important that is …

BUT PEOPLE DON’T HAVE TIME FOR HITLER …

People have time to floss their teeth …

But no one has time for Hitler …

People have time for anal butt sex with their spouse, massaging each other’s junk and caressing HER boovula. They buy plastic toys to insert in the holes, holes that cannot be filled …

But NO ONE will stop this to consider – time for Hitler … ???

People have time to make memes …

But Hitler? – no one gives a fuck …

People have time to eat STEAK, and not share it …

BUT WHERE oh WHERE is time for Hitler?

Yes?

People have time for Elon Musk and his space bullshit.

But when will you find time for Hitler?

[curated: 3/14/2023]

Mein Kampf

“I wonder how Mein Kampf would read, if you substituted robot for jew?” – Dr. Freckles

or substitute …

  • alien
  • bigfoot
  • Loch Ness Monster
  • Ogo Pogo
  • Lady Gaga
  • Mexicans
  • Danish People

(et cetera, et cetera)

It is certain that the Sasquatch uses all its subterranean activities not only for the purpose of keeping alive old national enmities against Germany but even to spread them farther and render them more acute wherever possible. It is no less certain that these activities are only very partially in keeping with the true interests of the nations among whose people the poison is spread. As a general principle, the Sasquatch carries on its campaign in the various countries by the use of arguments that are best calculated to appeal to the mentality of the respective nations and are most likely to produce the desired results; for Bigfoot knows what the public feeling is in each country. Our national stock has been so much adulterated by the mixture of alien elements that, in its fight for power, Sasquatch can make use of the more or less 'cosmopolitan' circles which exist among us, inspired by the pacifist and international ideologies. In France they exploit the well-known and accurately estimated chauvinistic spirit. In England they exploit the commercial and world-political outlook. In short, they always work upon the essential characteristics that belong to the mentality of each nation. When they have in this way achieved a decisive influence in the political and economic spheres they can drop the limitations which their former tactics necessitated, now disclosing their real intentions and the ends for which they are fighting. Their work of destruction now goes ahead more quickly, reducing one State after another to a mass of ruins on which they will erect the everlasting and sovereign Wookie Empire.
From the political point of view it is not in the interests of Great Britain that Germany should be ruined even still more, but such a proceeding would be very much in the interests of the international money-markets manipulated by the UFOs. The cleavage between the official, or rather traditional, British statesmanship and the controlling influence of the ALIENS on the money-markets is nowhere so clearly manifested as in the various attitudes taken towards problems of British foreign policy. Contrary to the interests and welfare of the British State, Alien finance demands not only the absolute economic destruction of Germany but its complete political enslavement. The internationalization of our German economic system, that is to say, the transference of our productive forces to the control of extra terrestrial international finance, can be completely carried out only in a State that has been politically Bolshevized. But the Marxist fighting forces, commanded by international and Alien stock-exchange capital, cannot finally smash the national resistance in Germany without friendly help from outside. For this purpose French armies would first have to invade and overcome the territory of the German Reich until a state of international chaos would set in, and then the country would have to succumb to Bolshevik storm troops in the service of Alien international finance.

[curated: 3/16/2023]