If you are DUMB ENOUGH to believe in “stochastic terrorism”, then you’d have to believe the BEATLES were a terrorist group, because they released the WHITE ALBUM … with Helter Skelter …
Or go after rap artists like Tipper Gore did with her warning labels …
I don’t know if people see this coming – here, in the “City of Rome”, we still have food and drink and entertainment, but for how much longer?
And will you get warning from the authorities of man, or will you be left, blank faced, staring into the abyss as your world falls apart and the grocery store goes bare?
“If those days had not been cut short, no one would survive, but for the sake of the elect those days will be shortened.” – Matthew 24:22
If you read the “Medieval Machine” by Jean Gimpel, you will come across examples of this kind of energy storage going back thousands of years …
It is simple a PE (potential energy) storage system or abstract dam …
Dams are PE batteries – they store energy as water held at a certain height, and then releasing this stored PE translates to electricity in the turbine/generator system …
I’ve met rich people, having worked in healthcare, who are evil shit heads and still make millions … not poor.
If you think people are poor in America mainly because they are shit heads – good luck bro … Good luck … I mean it.
CRAP CHUTE PILL HEAD America has a LOT of people who “make money” grifting – and if you choose to avoid industries that grift people, you will probably end up poor.
And since I think this “game” is almost over? – it doesn’t matter …
No matter where you live …
No matter how many ounces you have stacked or food in your basement …
We will all be visiting the poor-house soon enough.
Beating up on poor people has to be one of the lowest energy shitty things to do …
But people no longer know the difference between kindness and communism – so here we are …
You are sitting at a bar, and you bitch and moan about Danish people …
A random Swede hears you, and creates a meme on Twitter …
A young girl in Denmark creates a Tik Tok video about Danish pain …
A historian writes in his journal of the coming persecution of Danes …
For several generations, a family of plumbers in France who were exposed to that fucking historian’s writings, fosters and spreads a hatred of Danish people …
One day, in the year 2344, Rene Debouf sets off a barn at NEO-TACO-HUT, and kills a bunch of robot Danish people …
And this was Stochastic Terrorism Theater …
Hiring …
“Always hire people more talented than yourself, that’s how you WIN.” – Dr. Freckles
Remember when …
Remember when “firing” someone meant setting them on fire and then dumping their body behind the Starbucks?
(that was awesome)
Out there on the high plateau, being chased by bat-squirrels and lamprey-rats, you can feel the energy of predatory love tooling …
Remember when you could struggle in the zest-pits of S’compton, wrestling your lover for total sexual mastery … and then planting your ivory goo in her bib-hole and she’d be like “thanks for cumming in there”, and you’re like “I didn’t ask bitch”.
Remember when “two for a dollar” mean Shirley, the transient meth-whore, would give you a “grimbly plus and triple spleg”, and you’d clean up that mess with windex because it didn’t sting so much but the genital crabs got herpes and your lover left you in the gutter to die?
Remember when we were young and we’d frolic with joy and hope and we’d play chainsaw games and hunt turtle bat? We’d ride the river in our dugout canoes and throw nets at the monkey-owl and catch bush meat for dinner which we mixed with curry flavoring from the 7/11 store?
Remember when our parents would give us dynamite for our birthday and let us eat sugar cereal and stuff? Like “here kid, here’s some dynamite to toss at that old dude” and you’re like “thanks Pa, I needed that and boy that’ll be fun”, and then you end up killing that weird guy?
“Some will take whatever they can get.” – Bill Nye (is he talking about pedophilia?)
TRANS ERUPTION … not a real thing.
It’s a trauma based mind control PSYOP with the added benefit of “wounded on the battlefield” …
Wounded people take resources …
Wounded people take focus …
autism
cancer
dementia/alzheimers
trans people
vaccine injury
Wounded … needing help … unnecessary victims.
BTW – I’m not transphobic but I also don’t think, as a Christian, I have to abandon my values. I think I can love and pray for people and not necessarily approve of their choices, just as the same can be done for me. You might not like my choices, but you can still live in peace with me.
People are turning into MONGO GOOBER type fuckers, with boils and curses and chunks of flesh just hanging off their bone. Their eyes have turned amber-blue and their minds are a mixed bag of dark foreboding and hooker delight.
“If I had a million bucks? – I’d buy 20 large coffees at Starbuck’s.” – Dr. Freckles
Limited government …
“Believing in constitutionally limited government is a lot like believing in Asimov’s Laws of Robotics: it’s a nice thought, but it probably won’t work.” – Dr. Freckles
The Libertarian Party …
“The Libertarian Party is your last stop before reaching freedom.” – Dr. Freckles
Butt Rapes …
“85% of all butt rapes are performed by aliens, the other 15% are mostly CIA.” – Dr. Freckles
In the future, the lands will be made up of separate parts and each part will serve some nefarious purpose or serve some vampire goal.
There will be 100 zones outlining the various places you can go. You will be given a metal plate and that plate will be attached to your forehead – when you board a train to travel, your plate will be electrochemically stimulated to produce GINKTUS-GROO and that muck mixes with your neurotransmitters to drive you CRAZY … and once you’re GONE … you’re outta there …
Every ZONE is divided into 44 domains. These domains are ruled by a sexy cadre of stripper warriors, all of them busty and scantily clad and covered in the greases of the avenue. They carry switchblades with the word KARMA etched on the side …
A domain is composed of 75 regions. Each of these regions are filled with sklig-pipe lords and various hankus-gangs. They rove about, looking for catalytic converters and fast-time boovula. Their women are power hungry murder hoes, and their dogs are pits, covered in metal spikes.
A region is made up of 200 sectors, and the sectors are WEIRD. Dark sectors contain witch festrel and carrot meat. You walk for days looking for a place to sleep, but you don’t find nothing but the urban gape and it’s nasty stench.
Sectors are built on 9 quadrants. A quadrant is ruled over by a JINGO-MONK or KELMER-PRIEST. They are ordained as pimp daddies and street flesh controllers. All hookers shall be registered with them and given hooker names. What is your hooker name?
Grids are the building blocks of quadrants. Every grid has a GRID COMMANDER. The grid commander wears armor made of leather and iron, he or she carries a sword and a revolver and a fifth of Wild Turkey. These commanders are a saucy lot and capable of great feats of hooker style grease magic …
Blocks and their hooker queens are the basis for GRID MAGIC and total feudalistic whore control. Spider ministers acquire your soul energy and then drain it into the collective pool. You will lose your mind as you gain your way toward cocaine nightmares and old time’y ape pasta surprise.
All these hooker blocks contain a variable number of fortresses – these are the power centers of the future. Each year the people of the fortress vote on their THURGEN-REP, and this person takes claims of pain and agony and madness to the FEUR-MASTER GURGEN that overseas all connections to the block lords and the hooker queens. The votes are tallied, for justice, and then some random person is tossed off the ceremonial bridge.
Fortresses have rooms, and each room will have 21 inmates or citizens or voters. Each voter will spend his/her/its day eating muddle soup and complaining about their mold infections. The last FORTRESS KING will determine how many rooms get to stay, and which ones get flooded. You can vote on this, but voting does nothing … everyone knows this. And you’ll live in this overcrowded room, and most of your roommates will wipe their butts with their dirty laundry … because there ain’t no toilet paper.
Not giving up …
Truth is:
I yelled, I screamed, I sought help. I sat on that sidewalk, frozen, freezing, with my droopy broken arm, considering letting the shock set in and the hypothermia kill me … probably 15 minutes at that temperature.
But I didn’t give up – not a huge victory, but mine.
Liberty …
“If liberty is victorious, we all win.” – Dr. Freckles
