“A cigarette is a reason to wake up in the morning, a GREAT reason.” – Dr. Freckles
Thug armies in the woods …
Did you know that radical hikers and granola types are forming thug armies in the Olympic National Forest?
I know this …
These are things they DON’T report in the news.
People are going up, into the forest, to live.
Boondockers are scattering to the 8 winds.
Everyone is lying …
“If you get the feeling that everyone is lying? To include you? – you might be close to the truth.” – Dr. Freckles
SKEZ?
I was meant to be REGION LORD,
to be married to a SCARLETT DINGER named SALLY.
We’d rest on summer days,
smoking crack and washing our crotch,
smelling the sticky love emanating from the grove,
becoming NORDIC DEATH MARES …
And left behind in the land of BOBLIMPTOCK,
sadly.
I was the GORGON that struck fear into the hearts of the dimblies and the gorbs.
I ate monkey stew with the kings and led the armies against the last onslaught of the TOOB GANG.
I suckled on breast wine, as the mistress held the whip; so many broken souls left in boblimptock.
Maybe Tomorrow
MP3: https://planetarystatusreport.com/mp3/20231011_Maybe_Tomorrow.mp3
Donate: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/doctorfreckles
FRANKENSTEIN: an existentialist novel
Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein as an exploration of self in the world.
I haven’t been doing my work as a disciple recently … and I said “no news” … fuck
Link: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2023/oct/07/hamas-and-israel-at-war-what-we-know-so-far
- thief in the night
- He’s better than ant man
- we should be ready at any time
*** Hamas or Hezbollah, paragliding into a music festival, abducting and killing … yeah … this is all too real.
Spider Webs
Disillusioned at your own rate …
“Everyone has a right to become disillusioned at their own pace.” – Dr. Freckles
Maybe tomorrow …
Maybe tomorrow I will learn to fly, so high in the sky that I multiply and become like whiskey …
Maybe tomorrow I find a hidden tunnel to that magical beyond place, where frolicking monkeys sell you cigarettes and hookers … maybe …
Maybe tomorrow I invent love-sauce, and become like Ron Jeremy, as if I had the super power of total bone control and access … and maybe I marry a porn star wife … and maybe the marriage ends in divorce.
Maybe tomorrow I eat brisket with an old friend, and we talk about pistol nuts and french fry cream and albino elk. And maybe it’s important.
Maybe I will soon find the love of my life, and marry her in a meadow, and bury her next to the others, maybe? Maybe if I’m bad, right?
Maybe we get the FRANKLIN STYLE merge-tune in the coming weeks, when harmonic energy attains 5 levels of scale … and there’s pie. Maybe.
Maybe next week we will see new kinds of crispy chicken sandwiches, and this will trigger further crispy chicken wars and riots … and from this will be born a new sense of respect … maybe.
Maybe the oceans are dying …
Maybe I shambled out of apedom yesterday …
Maybe every Charlton Heston movie was true …
Why didn’t we build an ARMY of Charlton Heston robots? – we could have … we SHOULD have … maybe.
Maybe we did land on the Moon a few times, and then we forgot how we did it for half a century, as we spun tales of “singularity” and “super tech” … except when it comes to Space bro … less than 1000 have been there … think. Maybe “space” is bullshit.
Maybe my woman cheated on me with Dennis, and maybe Dennis is younger and hotter … but Krystal, you said you LOVED ME forever … forever is longer than 3 years Krystal. I love you … come back to me baby.
Maybe soon, perhaps within a year, I will travel to the mountains of Dysteria, and feed upon cumpus bread and tiggly wine. My garments will be made of silk and showered and poured upon by the gentle rains of spring, as the figures of disdainful regret hunt me and haunt me to the end, to push me onward to the blue star of destiny … perhaps THEN I will find my true love, hidden in the shadows. She will have crabs.
Maybe in an hour or two I’ll find the lost charms of DELMORDOS … and my male strug-levels will go through the ROOF … which means I have to move to the Jersey Shore and become a ja-brony … eat corn nuggets filled with anabolic steroids … power boost my blood with unknown things we dare not speak of … I think soon.
Maybe in about 2 weeks aliens will arrive from planet TOOBA, and with them will come the great discoveries of the galactic elite – carbonated fear drinks and used cigarette butts will be their bounty. I will gaze upon their sleek and greasy style, as the mileage provides hag energy, and the elf was to trod nowhere, and the heralds of chaos warn of coming storms and other crappy stuff … maybe. Maybe some kind of JRR TOLKIEN bullshit …
Maybe when the sun turns black and the clouds become acrid and sorrowful, I will GO to the Stingo Priests who sojourn near Sequim. They will share stories of adventure and piracy and lost pimps from Vancouver Island who do not understand the desire for “Thai food and craft beer”. Their generous offerings of thought are rejected, and I cast upon their visage a gaze of dynamite fury – and their lost memories are regained, as a lead pipe hits them on the back of their nasty heads. Very soon this will happen.
Maybe I’ll start lifting weights … get really fit and have those washboard abs … find myself a brunette kind of baby and marry her and move to the woods to have our fill of carnal bliss. She leaves me for Yurg the Archer, and they hunt beaver near the swamps of Krelm … and that would make me sad, probably really sad.
Maybe the STAR WARRIORS of Hollywood have x-wing fighters and millennium falcons and large imperial walkers … they shall reign in infamy as the LA tigers seek diesel fumes, and the ingenue rioters have nothing for them waiting, and no new livery apparel to wear to the cowboy weddings and vampire funerals … sure.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll stop doing crack … I’ll stop walking the street, looking for land-wax and opening up to random prostitutes and totally self aware alley thugs …
Maybe I’ll make ape-pudding for dinner, and I’ll sit in my cubby and meditate on camper style life changes and various forms of worms that will dig into my brain and infect me with pain … and the heat-chills from the weird residuals left over from other dying flesh … sure.
Maybe you can pack a wound with broken glass and sand and metal shavings and vodka … maybe it gets infected and you end up with some monstrous thing growing on you, with greedy eyes and lustful spirit. In days you are covered in boils and roiling with the fevers of a million diseases … but you don’t die, nature will not allow it. Maybe you get better and learn to surf … and this would be nice.
Maybe in a few days I’ll start fishing for something … I’ll grab a pole and some line and a lure … I’ll stand frozen upon the pier, looking out upon the rustic seas, imagining great creatures that luck down below and are so saddled with their own contentious dismay … I am aggrieved to know that twilight life still swims there, and feeds off the poison of the world. And I can stand and breathe … and drink jug slurry … maybe.
Maybe they’ll find the groodol soon – it will be tasty and sweet and neat and come from the bottom of the Pacific … seen post Fukushima … it’s happy and nice, our new style crab meat … one big red eye, it cannot die.
Maybe I build lasers designed to save whales …
Maybe I take that trip to Toledo, the one I’ve been putting off …
Maybe I join the GRONKIS LORDS or the WEST SIDE HOOLIES and do the jig with REBAR and pillow cases filled with d-cell batteries … sure.
Maybe I do this tomorrow.
I was born …
I was born …
I was born in the time of the razor-bats. These were bats, that carried razors, they drove Mercedes, they had the ladies …
I was born when skul-rings ruled, and everyone ate paste and gruel, their moms carried a chainsaw gun, just for fun, they’d hunt the genhdoo-tribes lurking in the forest, that was my time.
They sell those here.
MP3: https://planetarystatusreport.com/mp3/20231001_THEY_SELL_THOSE_HERE.mp3
Donate: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/doctorfreckles
They do sell those here …
- Watermelon and pastry filler …
- Radios … for talking or listening … or hearing and understanding …
- Cars
- cocaine
- meth
- riddlin
- cough syrup
- vaccines, lots of kinds of vaccines …
- death fluid
- scorgon chips
- frenchie nibblets
- cardigans
- sweat pants with elastic bands
- beer and liquor and sadness and wine
- corn nuggets
- chicken blocks – popular in Denmark, a whole square can of chicken, defenestration, in goop sauce
- ocean beef: a new thing in the deep
- green yoog stew
- chili
- pensy-trog chops
- kayaks
- body bags
- sand bags
- concertina wire
- used sanitary napkins
- sushi
- horse or unicorn
- tiger meat
- wendy-spice
- light bulbs
- adrenochrome, now at walmart
- nuclear war
- Christmas cheer
- hawking spheres
- thanksgiving love … doesn’t last
- halloween costumes
- prostitute jelly
- tinder gems
- hookers
- clothes and underwear and condoms
- lubricants – for the car (dirty bird)
- carpenter hammers
- baseball bats
- metal pipes and chains
- welding supplies
- dynamite
- fishing poles
- archery kit
- bb guns
- tents
- water
- cake mix
- flour and rice
- orange juice
- bacon
- gasoline
- ammo
- bottle rockets
- pianos
MISTER SCRUMBO
MP3: https://planetarystatusreport.com/mp3/20231001_MISTER_SCRUMBO.mp3
Donate: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/doctorfreckles
Mr. Scrumbo, he’s our friend …
- Mr. Scrumbo, he’s our friend, mr. scrumbo knows the end
- Got chapter one of BFW1 finished … hopefully I can keep up a pace of one chapter per week. It’s hard to say. Some people would look at my life and feel sad or disdain or hate … I have what I need, and some of the things I want … not perfect, but workable. Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face … your retirement plan, blumbo world, sucking fat for biodiesel …you could end up in the diesel.
- The monkey-herpes infected my testicles because I was pooping on a honey bucket, and a driplet shot up and touched my nutt sack … and this is wrong
- “It’s always a slow burn until it explodes.” – Dr. Freckles (Hemingway’s “how did I go broke”) These are big events, perhaps a 10,000 year event … Berlin, april, 1945 is where we are at … it’s “slow” until it’s not … desire for nature to be incremental and linear is not a rational argument … the slow burn is wishful thinking and last minute bargaining … at any time, right now, the system has a likelihood to go into multiple failure states … it can handle a few at a time, but not as many as are coming … and when that begins, everyone gets a lesson in discontinuous functions … Everyone I know is bargaining right now, in terms of the kubler-ross stages of grieving … denial, anger, bargaining … the core turning circle of American consciousness. Better get to depression soon, and then to acceptance.
- 2020/2021 as a “rehearsal” … what if all that nonsense was just a military style rehearsal, a simulation, to gather data for some FUTURE OPERATION that might not be fake … it might be real. Think uber / lyft … think data mining and modeling … complexity. As a military psyop it makes sense, but at a deeper level the reason might have been more than “how do we keep people busy”, it might also have been “how do we know what they will do” – and “they” in this context are the little people, us.
- “Be brave enough to be kind.” – Dr. Freckles
- Superman / Stalin / Man of Steel / “nice stalin” / learning / and the desire to be ruled. Super heroes are generally bad messages … childish notions
- My time travel ideas and a Hawking Sphere …
- Good day on Friday, got paid, not stressing about what’s coming … you shouldn’t either. It could be horrible, probably will be, and many of us are not going to make it … so what? “life is hard” has been the invisible tattoo on every living thing since the beginning …