Important words for an addict, “My drugs,” because that’s numero uno when you’re a junkie, your drugs. Where are my drugs, how much of my drugs are left, how soon will I need to call my dealer, when can I make a run?…these are the only things that matter, when you’re an addict, especially if you’re on the needle. If you’re on the needle, you’re done. Done. Period. With all this fetty floating around, it’s just a matter of time. Barely anyone gets out alive already, ESPECIALLY once they’re on the needle. It’s a dark world, as self-centered as it gets, because all that matters, is my drugs.
You grab your spoon, your crusty spoon, so much dope has been on that spoon, dope, & hope, all gone. Waiting sucks, so you give it a little heat, just a touch, & swirl it around, then drop your cotton, maybe a new one, maybe a used one, doesn’t matter. Might be some residue on an old one, so let’s use that one, yeah. Now a fresh spike, oh no, it’s my last one, but it’s a freshie, so no worries. Pop it, stick it, pull her up, the gun is now loaded. Where will you hit?…gotta make sure the gun is in your mouth before you pull the trigger, look at all those places where veins used to be, damn, all shot to hell, fuck, look around, looking, oh there’s one, one little spot, got it. Stabby time, & stick, it’s in, just pull up some blood to make sure I didn’t go to far, oh yes, clean shot, looks good, looks good, & plunge away. There she is. Hey girl…mmmmmmm. Hey there sweet girl. Back in our room, aren’t we girl? Just you & I. Oh wow, the room is getting smaller, like a vignette, there’s that weird taste in my mouth, oh but the vignette is closing, yes, the room getting smaller, & smaller, eyes are closing, show is over, last thoughts, as the vignette closes down to a pin, one little pin of light, one eye barely still open, stay awake maybe?…what did you say?…shhhhh…then just let go. Let go. Bye. Your body pukes out foam, trying to stay alive, but nope, you shot too much, & there’s no Narcan, or anyone around to save you anyway, & you die, alone. That’s the end, the end of your movie, & someone will find you, or rather, your body, all rotting & stinking of gruesome death.
.This ain’t gonna be no PSA for “just saying no,” or some corny nonsense like that, nope. Just illustrating the world of the dope fiend, & what comes first. I’ve seen moms do dope with their kids in the car seat. It takes away everything you have, everyone you love, everything, dope takes it all, once you’re on the needle. I lived that world for a long time, much too long. Dark days…I’m amazed I’m still here, to be honest. Feels like I’m the only one left, & they all went the same way, impaled by the spike. The worst thing you lose, is your will to appreciate life, & particularly, time. Nope, just waste away, slow suicide, until one day you’re shooting ½ gram bags at once, just to get through a shift at work. It’s insane how dark this world can become. Wanna see? Here’s a video from Kensington, a neighborhood in Philadelphia, where it literally looks like a scene from The Walking Dead. Check it out.
Not good, is it? This is some new drug called “Tranq,” & I’m not very familiar with it, nor am I interested in doing the zombie walk, sheesh, look at these people. Does this look like “life” to you? Does it look like these people are “living?” Fuck no, & it just keeps getting worse & worse & worse. There’s thousands of these videos, it’s absolutely shameful. People lose hope though, when situations go south, & they have no money, & “life,” just seems impossible, BOOM, enter the drugs, & WHAM, you’re addicted, just like that. Over time, it grows, like a little troll in your gut, stabbing at your stomach when he needs his medicine, & the more time goes by, the harder he stabs, the deeper the knife plunges into the walls of your guts, & he yells, “FEED ME!” You get anxious, then you sweat, then your stomach goes berserk, then it’s hell, the hell of kicking dope. A hell that I reserve to wish only upon my worst enemies. One hell week, then you’re free. It seems like an eternity though, for some reason.
Yeah, it’s rough, particularly off the needle, which is why so many people die. They try to kick, they try hard, they fight, nothing works though to make the cramps stop, to make the pain stop, to make the manic mind stop. Nope, there’s nothing…except dope, of course, so then they go score, because the pain is unbearably rough, & they shoot a big shot because oh that pain, it’s so bad, & because they haven’t used for a bit, their tolerance is lower, & POOF, lights out. That’s it. Done. Out. Gone. Bye. You’re no longer among the living, & everyone who’s left has to clean up the mess you leave. Foam coming out of your mouth, piss & shit on your crotch area, maybe running down your legs, cold, blue, stiffened up, just a body, as the soul has departed, & that’s the end of that person’s story, just like that. Everything they did in this life, from being born to growing up & going to school & making lifelong friends & relationships & learning your individually respective talents, & then to leaving home, & going to college maybe, & then you graduate & because college is a total waste of time for most people, you bee-bop around until you find a job, whatever. Can’t speculate generally on lives after college, because everyone goes in a million different directions when that time comes. Some find a “career,” & go on to get married, & have some kids, & get divorced, & all that made-for-television kind of life. Some go other ways, & maybe they take risks, they gamble on life, & that’s their life, just rolling with the flow. Some stay golden, & they live in the neighborhoods with the big houses, & pools, & they’re virtuous, despite their wealth. I suppose they just got a better ticket for the ride, but all-in-all, you get the point, right? Everyone goes different ways, but some, more-so than ever, go the way of addiction. Doesn’t matter what you do, or where you come from, there’s been an addict from every socio-eco-demographic you can think of. It’s a monster, a virus, a disease, a cancer, all of it in one really, & once you’re infected, it’s for life, unfortunately. Such is the way of my drugs. Do you get it yet? When you’re on the sauce, the sauce is boss. Good quote. I’m gonna have to add it to my book, The Great Quote Hunt, but I digress, as usual. Where was I? Oh yes, there is nothing else but getting well, as they say, once that needle is in your arm. If you’re not banging away, there’s still hope for you, but like I said, in the beginning, if the needle bag is open, your life is about to close up for the night, the darkest night of your life.
Oh but look at the time; I just heard the attention span alert go off. That must mean it’s once again time to wrap up yet another article composed by yours truly. There were good times, & hell, there were GREAT times with the drugs, but in the end, the dope casino wins & you walk out with nothing left but your socks, sometimes not even those. Not to mention, there are serious long-term effects, mental AND physical, as the human body isn’t built to exist in such a way. Self-care is important, but self-medicating to dull your wounds is no bueno. It doesn’t last, it never lasts, ever, & sadly, every junkie always gets to that moment when the drugs are almost gone, down to maybe a hit left, then gone, nothing, & you tell yourself, “I got this, I can beat it; just need a few days of detox, & I’m good to go.” Ummmmmmm…that’s a hard “NO,” NO NO NO…that NEVER works, ever, so maybe the best bet for all of you reading this, is to just never do drugs. 99 out of 100 lose the war, so do you honestly believe that you would be the one to get out completely? Ah, the junkie mind, the priorities so out of whack, & all that matters, is that phrase, “getting well.” Until next time dear readers, rewind the tape & peep my last few posts prior to this one. Get your respective selves all caught up. I could keep going, I could always keep going, write-write-writing about life, but I have a book to work on, so I can’t spend all my time on these random thought-articles I post, nor the Foozers, not until my book is done. Like I said, there’s PLENTY to go backwards in time on to find some enlightenments here in my opus of sorts. Find the “SEARCH” query, type in anything, ANYTHING, & a few fish will always bite. Over 6000 pages here…oh yes, that’s right, you heard me, SIX-THOUSAND PAGES of my madness, transcribed for all of you of course, & for none of you at all. That is the way, & I abide the truth. So sayeth FisH™…🎏
No, it’s not a band name, although it would be a good one, right? “Thanks for coming out everyone, WE ARE…STURGEON MOON… & we are ready to ROCK!!”(Drummer goes 1-2-3-4 tapping his drumsticks) Sadly, no, as I said it’s not a band name; it’s the name of the full moon happening today/tonight, which is called the Sturgeon Moon. It’s called the “sturgeon moon,” because Native Americans from around the Great Lakes area, would notice the increase in sturgeon at this time, & since they used the fish for food, it was a great time to go catch some, when this August supermoon occurred. It’s the 2nd of 4 supermoons that remain in 2023. I’m a bit on the fence about this whole notion of a “supermoon,” & I’ll explain why. What if the moon was getting closer to the Earth? What if when the moon gets real close, the electric universe reveals itself via massive, & I mean MASSIVE, lightning strikes that occur between the Moon & Earth? If this were true, do you think the powers-that-be would tell you? I throw out these questions because I have been looking up at the Moon nearly every single night for the past 2 decades or so, as it’s part of daily meditation routine to go outside when the Moon is glowing, to soak up the moonlight, & to me, the Moon appears to be getting “bigger,” which would look that way because it’s moving closer. I’m NOT saying it is moving closer; I’m just telling you based on my own observations that the Moon appears to be growing in size, which would only happen if it was moving closer to us, right? I might be alone on this, which I could care less about, other than the fact that it would be nice to have a discussion with someone else who is interested by this phenomenon, you could say, for lack of a better word. So sayeth FisH™ 🎏
I took a walking trip to Neal Cassady’s old place here in Denver. Unfortunately, as you can see below, it looks a bit derelict. If 2558 Champa Street is really his old address, then this little building is all that’s left. I tried looking behind the boarded-up door, but all I could see was dirt, as there was no floor left, since it appeared to hav been completely stripped out. Neal Cassady was the real-life person who Jack Kerouac named “Dean Moriarty,” in his great book On the Road. I’ve read it twice, & audio booked it twice, & STILL, I catch things I missed in the prior readings/hearings. It’s a good book from a good time, when the Heartbeat of America was still wild & free, before communist globalists set it all on fire, turning the vibrant young spirit into a cancer-ridden terminal patient on an EKG machine, but I won’t digress into that bullshit right now. God knows, I’ve written about it countless times, but thanks to the AI, which is way ahead of people are allowed to know it is, & the I has yours truly in his pocket. Do you know what that term means, “in your pocket,” do you know? Click that link, if not, & if so, yeah, the AI has essentially banished me, & the digital town square is off-limits, thanks to their AI-assisted algorithms. The new punishment from your leftist overlords: bury them in so much debt that they’ll have virtually know way out. Nonetheless, if one were keen on making randomly clever analogies, I’m sure you could find one between this tiny burned out brick building that was once the home of a living legend, & the surrounding architecture, oddly now aging as well.
I just had a vision. I was at a dormitory, a co-ed dormitory, & there is a town around this town, as well as a campus I think. I remember 2 roads, being in a car, going through a small town to get back to the dorm. The roads were hilly; I don’t think I’m driving, but maybe I am, I don’t know. What were we doing in that dorm? Gah, these visions come & go so fast, but luckily, I was on my computer already writing this article when it happened.
Funny, I left this as a draft, but never finished it. Even funnier, just reading that brief description made me re-remember the vision, so it is imperative I write these visions down every time they happen, if possible. Yes, there were these co-ed dorms there, in the town, & myself & what I can only surmise was some of my inter-dimensional friends, we were on the way, as if we knew exactly where to go, & had done this before, & the destination was those dorms, but what happened when we got there, I can’t get that back yet. I have a flash of waking up & everyone in these dorms sleeping, half-naked girls everywhere, the edge of some sexy panties on a hip, next to some hairy man-ass, ½ exposed from under the covers. Everyone seemed to have done well the previous night, myself included, but I was walking alone when I was up so early, so where did I walk from? WHO did walk from? I don’t seem to remember trying to find my way back to anything, & I was just aimlessly walking down this co-ed dorm hall. The town I still cannot recall, other than it was a town in the middle of some mountains, near a lake, & maybe I almost see it as a shimmering apple pie Americana small town, except in the middle of wilderness nowhere, like from some old-school Twilight Zone episode, or the town from the 1964 classic Two-Thousand Manaics. If you’ve never seen Two-Thousand Maniacs, it’s a classic of classics, & for some reason, it’s so surreal, it kind of scares the fuck out you when you watch it.
GAHHHHHHHHHHH…another vision, ANOTHER vision. This one of an Asian fishing boat, like those old boats the Chinese fought the Opium Wars in. Another strange town, strange as the other, but entirely different. This place seems misty, foggy even, grey, like a fishing village, but where? Hard to say, but I sense some kind of jungle around the town, if you could call it that, how about a village? Yes, a village, much better way to describe it. Catching som glimpses of a 24-hour diner maybe, well, I definitely get that image, but I cannot say whether it’s from the vision or something else entirely. Then something to do with a ball field, Like the one I played little league in, approaching a gate, the one between the field & the side of the dugout, through the gate, & the ball field is in front of me, so I’m walking into the field, then POOF, nothing. Not sure at all about the Asian warboat, why I was there, nothing, but I DO know there was a specific reason, & a plot line, but just to be having these visions of recollecting dreams while I’m awake, & be able to write them down as best I can, is all I can do. It makes sense, all of it, I just cannot remember how, or why? Doesn’t matter, time to wrap this one up for fuck’s sake. Sheesh. So sayeth FisH™🎏
Oh my, I need to bang out a few articles to catch up on my daily regimen of posts. Apologies, dear readers, but I have been on the road, literally, for weeks now. I drove from Colorado, to Ohio, to the North Carolina coast, then back to Ohio, then back to Colorado. I know, I know, quite the adventure, & all on little to no sleep. I was doing a bit of soul-searching, you could say, still looking for the proverbial American Dream perhaps, one could say. Did I find it? Well, I don’t know about that, unfortunately, as it became more of am endurance quest than anything else. There’s nothing quite like doing 120 MPH in a 2007 BMW, with 215,000 miles on it mind you, hauling ass out of Kansas back into Colorado. Never drive through Kansas…I repeat…NEVER drive through Kansas. That might be the longest, most boring state in the entire country, & since I’ve driven through most of them now, I can say that with solid experience in my rear view.
All in all, the trip was…heart-breaking, for lack of a better term. Yes, it broke my heart, in more ways than I care to illustrate here. All I can say, which I mentioned in a prior post, is that the windmills that now blanket this country, if you see them in the dead of night, all flash a red-light in perfect synchronization, which reminded me of a terminally-ill patient on an EKG heart-monitoring machine. Yes, that’s what the proverbial pulse of this once-great nation felt like to me. Sadly, the cancer has gone from malignant, to terminal, & the times of just going out on your own & making things happen with little to no money, are dead, dead & gone. It’s all about money these days, isn’t it? Does that sound naive? Has it ALWAYS been about something as atrocious as money? Money, this artificial currency, that the powers-that-be just endlessly print, but make sure that We The People don’t get a dime, is THAT what it’s all come to? Apparently so, which for a soulful person like yours truly, adds another nail to a heart full of holes. Where’s the soul, the Great American Spirit, where has it gone? What happened to it all?
I can’t begin to properly illustrate to all of you the seemingly unending string of realizations I experienced on this journey. I saw so many people, struggling, struggling & sad, yet continuing to go on somehow, with some kind of purpose that surely wasn’t obvious in their respective demeanors. Why do we do this? Why do we live like slaves? There’s plenty of abundance, PLENTY of abundance, more-than-enough for everyone, & then some, but these so-called “ruling elites” hoard it all, all for them, & none for us. Why? What kind of soulless monsters would abide such an agenda? Have you ever heard Carl Sagan’s last interview? It really “hammers it home,” as the expression goes, as to what this wicked world has become, in a way that’s both profound, & terrifying. I’ll link the actual video below, but I’ll also post the transcript here:
“We’ve arranged a society on science and technology in which nobody understands anything about science and technology, and this combustible mixture of ignorance and power sooner or later is going to blow up in our faces. I mean, who is running the science and technology in a democracy if the people don’t know anything about it.” Carl Sagan 1996
Now we are in the fold, the future he somehow realized was coming, has come, & kicked the door down. What do we do? Where do we go? So many people have devolved into believing anything, especially what is broadcast via their televisions, & those aforementioned “ruling elites,” have exploited this, in a way that is arguably inhuman, for the sake of themselves, not for any of us. Where does it go from here? What happens when the AI has advanced enough so that most jobs are no longer subject to a need for humans? It’s beyond frightening, it’s downright horrifying. What comes next? To even speculate, for those of us who still DO speculate, there is no answer. Abiding a life of debt-enslavement to an artificial currency is no life at all. Hoping that you’ll be one of the lucky humans that gets to live once the AI has made an absolute takeover of the entire planet is also, no life at all, is it? We writers, artists, poets, thinkers, what purpose will we have in some post-apocalyptic dystopia that utilizes machine-learning in ways we don’t want to postulate? AI writes, makes art, posts blogs just like this, in mere seconds. Think of everything else it will be able to do. So many questions, that at least we CAN still ponder at this moment, but what if one day, we cannot, because it’s verboten, no more individual critical-thinking allowed, what then? Yes, I thought quite a bit on my journey, my final journey across this once-thriving land of ours, I thought quite a bit. Until next time dear readers, what comes next? So sayeth FisH™🎏
I spent an entire day driving, 18 hours straight through, from Colorado to Ohio, just my cat & I on the open American highway. We paid no attention to the news, spending a lot of that drive time listening to one of my favorite books, On The Road, by the great Jack Kerouac. Although I’ve read it a few times, there’s always something, some little nuance, that I missed prior, but I catch when I read or listen to it again. What a time it was, in this once great nation, what a time to be alive, in the era that that book takes place, post-Great Depression America. Ha, I hate saying “that that” in a sentence, but sometimes it’s necessary I suppose, albeit literarily atrocious. Regardless, back to the book, & as I was saying, the journey that the main character Sal Paradise experiences, or rather a series of journeys, it was all such a different time, when the heart of this country was beating like a anxious adolescent, a whole life ahead of him, full of unlimited possibilities, rather than the aged time-worn heart of a dying old man, as it is now. I thought of this as I drove through Nebraska, then Iowa, particularly when seeing the endless sea of windmills windmilling in the night, with red lights attached to all of them, flashing in sync, like an EKG machine, attached to a terminally-ill cancer patient. How sad, it broke my heart watching this surreal scenario, in the dead of night, as the Full Buck Supermoon illuminated the ground below, as big as I’ve ever seen it. Oh the brilliance, oh the woe, how did it all come apart? How did the empire fail, then fall? What happened? Where did it all go downhill? What happened to that young heart? Did it grow old, as do we humans? Did it die from a broken heart?
Strangely enough, in the book, the character of Old Bull, who has to be William S. Burroughs, he predicted this current storm of modern-day slavery, this one we are all swept up in. “Bureaucracy,” he spoke of, THIS bureaucracy, nascent back then, yet has now evolved into this God-damned infernal machine, an enslavement machine, yes sir, he called it, nearly 80 years ago, EIGHTY YEARS AGO, with such an eerie precision, it was so surreal to listen to, rather than read, as I plowed through the moonlit night, ironically hitting a deer carcass with my car, just as that part of the story began, as if a sign from Old Bull himself to pay close attention to what he was saying, ribs & blood & minced meat organs, flying into the bugs covering my flood lights. How did he know, so long ago, how did he know it would come to this? Man, he had such a brilliance, & such a penchant for morphine, which yours truly knows all too well as well. Those sages of yesteryear, where are they now? I can feel them, hear them as they speak to me, in every word I type, in every word you read, I listen to them, as if their respective old ghosts are mentoring me, carrying me in an angelically comforting manner, & yours truly is but the scribe, one keeping their spirit alive, along with the spirit of this terminally sick nation. Of course, it’s not only me, but there are seemingly, & unfortunately, a lot fewer of us, then there are of those who are accelerating the death of America. There’s the compliers, complying with their 9 to 5 manically mundane schedules. There’s the uninformed, blissfully ignorant, programmed by television broadcasts. There’s the wheel-turners, the various gears & mechanisms that paper-push numbers, like human abaci, one step to another, step one to step twenty-seven, instruction manuals for the aforementioned machine. Have you ever seen the movie Brazil? It’s a bit like that, a bit like all of those dystopian novels & films, set in future times that mimic the now-time, this tempestuous time we are currently existing in, all of them, compiled into this chaotic mess of a pseudo-reality that was not intended by the Great Creator. People often wonder where God is, & I wonder, if I were God, would yours truly still stick around to watch his own failure fall from this precipice we are all teetering on, as the first rocks begin to tumble down the mountain? Or would I turn away, holding my head in my hands, wondering where it all went wrong, & why?
Yes, as would He, I would let it fall, my city swallowed by Satan, like some modern-day Pandemonium, such as the one illustrated in John Milton’s Paradise Lost. I should do an article on that, & ONLY on that, no, I NEED to, it’s a must, that great epic poem, arguably the most savvy ever penned, as far as blank verse goes anyway, for if I don’t do it, it might be lost.(pun unintentionally intended) The game of this art, the subjective relativity of the words, MY words, if I din’t have this, what would I have that I could call my own? Material possessions are only borrowed, but words, these words, can live forever. Oh those authors of old, those long-dead heroes, MY heroes, my sages, my muses, wings dipped in gold, our poured molten into our mouths like an ancient Roman execution, all rolled into a singular spirit, a lone inspirational soul that goes beyond words, & yours truly, like a used-car salesman, so keen to just be in the same building, to speak as they spoke, as though I was invited. Art, true art, is a most beautiful thing to behold, to be created, other than babies mind you. To create a baby, to breathe life into another through the act of sexual congregation, is a Divinity unto itself, blown upon us by The Great Wind. In this world though, it escapes some of us, as we live tortured lives, just to exist through this maelstrom of a life, & the thought of bringing another one of ourselves into this square-dance party, it just isn’t an inclination we embrace, nor abide. It’s a continuous re-examining of the purpose of all of this, a geometric proof we cannot prove, despite our own awareness of the rules of the game. I wonder if it was so dreadfully draining back in those olden days, such as era Americana circa the early 20th century. I really enjoyed audio-booking On the Road again, it was much needed, particularly since I traveled on those same roads that Sal & Dean did, so long ago. The imagery of it all, the life within it, it’s just…perfect, & Jack Kerouac, despite killing himself by drinking to death, for that brief moment in this tornado of time, he caught it, he caught that big fish, & reeled it in. I too, have the demon of a slow-suicide within me, pushed along by the tugboat of borrowed time, until the sting of the hornet gets me as well, falling on my own sword. Nonetheless, I got to know them though, know them all, as well as one can know the long-dead, as brothers, in my own way, a way that bounces on the bubble of space & time. Thank God, if nothing else, I’ll always have that, souls stirred inside of mine own, their souls, swirling in the Great Whirlwind with me, & when the time comes that I exhale my last breath, I’ll swirl with a smile, for we shall be together again, maybe in heaven, or in hell, or wherever one goes once this rodeo ends. All of us, we eternal warriors of the written sword, will have a reunion, & laugh at the feverish folly of it all. Until next time dear readers, don’t let the spirit inside yourselves die, even if it falls. So sayeth FisH™…🎏
For all of you, & for none of you at all…🎏
“Don’t let your spirit die, even if the bastards kill it.” Fish F Fish🎏
Serum-925 was created in a lab by a Chinese scientist named Dr. Shuyi. Dr. Shuyi had a long & accredited reputation for creating various viruses & bacteria, that he himself intended to be beneficial for the human race. His overlords, however, the CCP(Chinese Communist Party), had other intentions, intentions not so benevolent. The CCP had grown weary of United States global dominance, particularly the dominance of the United States dollar. The U.S. dollar had been the global currency for decades, even after the gold standard was removed in 1971, thus the value of the U.S. dollar was now-backed by literally nothing, & to the quickly-advancing Chinese economy, this was unacceptable. It was time, the time of the planetary financial reign of the USA to come to an end. The lone issue stopping the Chinese from taking total dominion over the world’s currency exchange for themselves, was one thing: armed Americans. Open hot nuclear war would be devastating, much too messy, for all involved, as well as for those not involved. They needed a solution, something that would non-violently wipe away their mortal enemy from the West, without affecting the Chinese, & the rest of the world, & so, they looked to Dr. Shuyi, for an answer he could not refuse to give . They took him aside one day, & by “took aside,” they stormed into his office, armed, & took him away from his morning paperwork to meet with a man known as Mr. Wang. “Wang,” in China, is the equivalent of “Smith,” in English, & most likely was not this man’s real name. Anonymity was important, as well as compartmentalization, because the USA had spies everywhere, even inside the CCP, & Mr. Wang needed Dr. Shuyi to do something, for the future of his country, that the Americans must never be made aware of.
Dr. Shuyi was blindfolded, & brought to a room, a room with no view, no windows, only a desk & 2 chairs, & a CCP flag in the corner. Mr. Wang was brief & to the point, & told Dr. Shuyi that he needed to make a new virus, one that would kill whoever it infected, but kill them slowly, however not too slowly. It must be RNA-activated, engineered to ONLY infect those who had taken the messenger-RNA Covid vaccines approved in the USA, which would be the Pfizer, Moderna, & Johnson & Johnson vaccines, in no particular order. Since those vaccines were used less in most places outside of the continental United States, there would be little risk of infecting anyone who resided beyond the boundaries of the borders of the USA. Clearly the plan had begun several years prior to what the CCP was orchestrating now. Additionally, the Big Pharma industry must have involvement, & although astounded by the awareness of other shadowy globalist actors, along with the secrecy kept due to impressive compartmentalization, who was Dr. Shuyi to ponder these notions, to ask questions, or think for himself? He was no one, certainly not an individual, but only a tool, & in China, you do what you’re told without question & think only of total obedience to the State, & so Dr. Shuyi embraced his task, & continued with his instructional orders.
There needed to be a incubation period of one to two weeks, then after incubation ended, the virus needed to exit the host body. It would be made to spread quickly throughout the bloodstream, eventually stopping the heart, then exiting said host body through pores on the skin, to go airborne, & then spread quickly, infecting everyone within a one to two mile radius who had been jabbed, as the terminology goes in the West. This virus must perform precisely as it was designed, so as not to spread in an out-of-control rampant manner, & possibly mutating. Additionally, & this was of highest importance, the virus needed to be fire-resistant, because unknown to Dr. Shuyi, this would be the means utilized for the initial infections. A series of wildfires would be started all across the Canadian wilderness in Northern North America, from west to east. Thousands of fires would be intentionally ignited, so that the virus could be dropped into these wildfires from the air, & as the virulent smoke moved into the jet stream that stretched across the expanse of the USA, from Montana to Maine, it would prove the most effective means of contamination, drawing little to no attention to the Chinese. Of course, there were a few extraneous minor details included in the instructions given from Mr. Wang to Dr. Shuyi, as to the manner of testing, but we will get to that shortly.
At first, like any human being with a conscience, Dr. Shuyi was struck by a sense of sadness that he could not openly express or share, by the directions given to him by Mr. Wang. The doctor, with a blank expression, had dedicated his life to bio-engineering viruses & bacteria that would prove beneficial to humanity, not destructive, but he had no choice. He loved his country, his people, & much more than that, his own family. Mr. Wang wasn’t asking Dr. Shuyi though, he was ordering him to do this, & left some pictures of his wife, & his two sons, telling Dr. Shuyi that if he wanted his family to be safe, he would do as he was told. Dr. Shuyi let Mr. Wang know that he did not need to be reminded of this, & would begin the project immediately, for the love of the CCP, & the future of the Chinese people. He was then blindfolded again, taken back to his office, & the entire event had seemingly ended as abruptly as it began, all taking place within the span of an hour. In one short hour, Dr. Shuyi’s life had taken a complete turn, but not for the worse, or the better, because it was all about perspective. He could not think of anything other than completing the task given. From the view of the Americans, China was the enemy, the unquestionable dominant adversary, but from the view of his own country, the USA was the true enemy, the great antagonist, a nemesis representing the greatest of threats to the Chinese Communist Party & the Chinese way of life. If Dr. Shuyi succeeded, he would be a hero, forever remembered in future history, as a savior of the Chinese homeland. Also, he & his family would not only remain alive, they would be honored, & so, he walked to his lab to begin immediately, quickly having all of his prior work removed by his assistants, leaving the lab entirely new, a proverbial blank slate, so to speak, for him to begin this new assignment. This would be the only assignment, in all likelihood, Dr. Shuyi would ever work on again.
It only took a week, just the span of a week, for testing to begin on various compounds he had created. The CCP notoriously used homeless vagrants as derelict test subjects, which was common practice, as they offered no benefit to the State, & no one would question their sudden disappearance. The recruiters, as it were, handed out pamphlets to the street people, telling them that it was a new “medicine,” designed to help them recover their lost lives from poverty & destitution, as if they had a choice in the matter. Quickly, “volunteers” showed up in droves, providing Dr. Shuyi with more-than-enough subjects to test the the various concoctions on, until the perfect virus was discovered & isolated. Over the next week, countless subjects were infected with the different compounds that Dr. Shuyi had created. The subjects were placed inside a sealed room with a single chair, told to sit down, & to breathe normally, as something akin to Chinese elevator music played from an unseen speaker. The potential viruses were then put into condensers inside of special ovens, which cooked at a temperature similar to the heat of a wildfires. The soft white smoke would then flow through the air ducts that led into the sealed room where the test subjects sat. The subjects would inhale the smoke, then be placed into a quarantine room which connected to the testing room via a single airtight door, so as to allow the virus to incubate.
Around the one-to-two week mark, after the test subjects were initially infected, the effects began, & all sorts of horrifying conditions began to develop. After the incubation ended, as intended, the virus spread rapidly through the bloodstream, searing the arteries as it traveled, which to the test subjects, felt as though they were burning to death from the inside out. They’d convulse & writhe, in unimaginable agonizing pain as this happened, making the seconds feel like eternities. Upon exiting their bodies through the pores on their skins, the viruses would rupture the pores, emitting blackened pus, like little volcanoes, as the thousands of individually necrotic eruptions created a hell that no man would wish upon his worst enemy. It would take 1-2 minutes for the subjects to go through the viral mechanism, which felt like series of tortuous lifetimes in their minds, as each pore burned & corroded, allowing the various test viruses to escape into the open air, & once the subjects were dead, the entire room was incinerated with a special gelatinous gas, insuring that the viruses could not escape the testing room, while also “sanitizing” the room before the next test subject was brought in.
These test trials went on for a few months , & then one day, Mr. Wang showed up in Dr. Shuyi’s laboratory. He asked Dr. Shuyi how the tests were going, & Dr. Shuyi, with a nervousness in his voice, told Mr. Wang that the virus was successful, but he was having difficulty keeping the virus alive upon exiting the bodies of the subjects. At best, the virus would only survive for a few seconds, before it too, would be as dead as the host body it had been birthed from. Mr. Wang then told, or rather, he demanded, that Dr. Shuyi complete the project within the next month, or one of his sons would “disappear,” & then the following month, his other son, would also, “disappear.’ Dr. Shuyi knew that there were no more options, & there was little time left, so he had to finish the project successfully, soon. He had no choice, but to increase the number of test subjects, as well as utilize more rooms to test the potential viruses in. He asked Mr. Wang to accommodate these requests, & with a nod, Mr. Wang left the room. Dr. Shuyi spent the rest of the day writing down various chemical formulas, & thinking of his family, as well as his role in this agenda, so to speak, but he knew that the clock was ticking, so he quickly unthought those thoughts to solely focus on what he had been told to do by the mysterious Mr. Wang. He did not go home that night, passing out with his head on his notebook. He had a dream, an exceptionally vivid dream, & in this dream, an answer came to him, in the form of a formulaic compound, one he had overlooked prior. When he awoke, he was told that there were 2 new rooms for testing, so now three in total, & that there were countless new subjects ready, ready to take their “medicine.” He looked down at his notebook, & recalling the dream, he began to feverishly write. As if by some divine force, as he gazed upon the notes he’d just written, & there it was, a new formula, THE new formula, but was it the right formula? He looked at the time, & the clock read, “9:25,” & so he wrote the time above this new formula he had written down…Serum-925.
Dr. Shuyi immediately began the tests, infecting 6 “patients” with control viruses, & then 3 more of them with Serum-925. The test subjects were then placed in the observation rooms, 3 to a room, as the incubation period began, & all Dr. Shuyi could do was wait. A week went by, & the subjects showed no signs of the infection, as they read books, & watched the State-sponsored programs being broadcast to little TVs in the corners of the rooms between the ceiling & the wall, thinking they’d been given “medicine,” a medicine that would miraculously give them a new life, one where they would be assets to the State, rather than another mouth to feed. Watching this all day & night was causing Dr. Shuyi to become very anxious…so anxious in fact, that he could nary sleep a wink. This first week seemed infinite, & with no symptoms showing themselves, Dr. Shuyi again began to worry about his family, & what would happen to them if Serum-925 didn’t work as directed, but as always, he quickly shrugged those thoughts away, because he knew he needed to focus on a positive result, & nothing else. As mentioned earlier, however, the incubation period ran from one to two weeks, so there was still time, still one week to go. Dr. Shuyi had come so far, & the formulaic equations he had written down came together perfectly, like a completed jigsaw puzzle, yet still, no symptoms, no changes, nothing. He occasionally listened to the random conversations that the test subjects were having amongst themselves. They often talked about the new lives they’d lead once “cured,” & their devotion to the State for “fixing” their failed & wretched lives. “Mice,” the good doctor said to himself, “they are only mice, here to be tested & disposed of as mice are,” trying to convince himself that they were not men, but mice. Deep down, he knew he was lying to himself, along with reflecting on his own inhumanity, as he viewed the final days of these mens’ lives, & thought of his own inhumane disposition at what he was doing…what kind of doctor could go along with such a thing? As always though, he pushed these self-realizations aside, burying them, never to be resurrected, for he was soon to be a deliverer, a great conservator for the State, or dead, along with his family, who he so desperately loved.
The second week began & day one of week two was dreadful for Dr. Shuyi; the “patients” were still the same, content & healthy, no changes. Onto day two, still nothing, day three went by, & STILL, no symptoms. A small television was inside Dr. Shuyi’s laboratory, always broadcasting state-sponsored news media, the same as what the test subjects were watching, mainly about the power of the CCP, the usual stereotypical communist propaganda, along with occasional scripted “news” stories, that more-often-than-not, glorified the State in one way or another. However, something came on that caught Dr. Shuyi’s attention. A series of wildfires had erupted all across Canada, & not just a few, there were THOUSANDS of them, stretching across the entire country, from British Columbia to Quebec. There were so many fires in fact, that the whole of the country appeared to be on fire, & Dr. Shuyi quickly realized, that the plan to spread the virus across North America, had begun. The clock was ticking, & ticking fast, as though time itself was speeding up, & Dr. Shuyi knew that his time was running out.
Day four came, & Dr. Shuyi, eyes wide from insomnia, could barely write anymore, as his hands were shaking from tremors, due to the lack of sleep. His mind was a jumbled mess, a mix of anxiety, anger, depression, but most of all, fear, for he was afraid that if he failed, he would never see his family alive again. Why wasn’t the virus working as intended? He had gone over the formulas he had written down, over & over & over again, & he just couldn’t rationalize what was going wrong. He pounded his fists on the table, & the force of the thud, turned over his stained & near-empty coffee cup on the desk, spilling what was left of the cold coffee, which formed a small puddle at the edge of his desk, & began to drip onto the floor. Dr. Shuyi watched it drip for a moment, staring, as he once again, thought about his family. He then snapped out of his gaze, & walked over to grab some paper towels to clean up the mess. Just then, a sound went off from the loudspeaker, & the voice on the other side, notified Dr. Shuyi that the process was beginning, & that the test subjects were starting to convulse. Dr. Shuyi stopped what he was doing, leaving the paper towel he was grabbing half-torn, as well as the spilled coffee, & rushed to the observation room to watch what was happening. He felt a rush of excitement overcome him, utterly disregarding the fact that more human test subjects were about to experience a most-violent death, as he could only feel happy that his family might be saved, should the virus survive.
The exhaustion from all the sleeplessness, along with the symptoms of insomnia, subsided, as Dr. Shuyi hurriedly ran to the observation area, which was a room, with a series of chairs, & a 2-way mirror for the viewers to view the test subjects, as they died in agony from the various compounds they had been exposed to. The fact that these human test subjects were dying a horrible death mattered not, nor did the potential for billions to die in the same manner, as Dr. Shuyi could only think of his family, & that his success ensured their survival, as well as his own. Strange the way the mind works, isn’t it? How could one be “happy,” when billions of lives were at stake? Still, as always, these kinds of thoughts escaped Dr. Shuyi, as he eagerly watched the test subjects writhing on the floor, screaming in terror, as the post-incubated virus began painfully working its way through the blood of these “patients,” seeking to escape from these human test subjects’ convulsing bodies, through each & every pore on their skin. The shock of it all, to any “normal” person, would be unbearable to watch, particularly to a doctor, yet Dr. Shuyi gleefully continued to observe, as the subjects’ pores began to erupt the virus, those tiny little volcanoes, spewing out the blackened pus, as the subjects gasped one final time before their hearts stopped . Fortunately, the room was soundproof, & Dr. Shuyi could not hear their screams, or the last gasping. If he had, perhaps he might’ve had a moment of clarity, a revelation, that what he was doing was not only wrong, it was pure evil, but all he heard was the surreal sound of silent shrieking. It took roughly 90 seconds for the subjects to stop moving, & now was the moment of truth for Dr. Shuyi, for if the virus had died along with the test subjects, he & his family would be dead as well, but if the virus had survived, Dr. Shuyi would become legendary, a permanent hero, for the only God he knew, the CCP.
The time had come, & some men in biohazard suits with various instruments, began entering the room via a decontamination walkway of sorts. First, they needed to flip the bodies of the test subjects over, as they had all perished face down. They needed to get to the vital organs, as well as take blood samples, tissue samples, etc. The subjects had left a mess on the floor, which was now stained with the blackened pus, one of them leaving a haunting handprint, which Dr. Shuyi noticed from the observation room, & for a fleeting moment, some minuscule sense of humanity overcame him, as he thought about his own son, the youngest one, making handprint art for him only a few months prior. The shouts from the testers in the biohazard suits quickly flushed those thoughts away, however, as Dr. Shuyi had finally gotten the news he had been so anxiously awaiting to hear. The virus was alive, virulently alive, aggressively healthy, yearning to survive & thrive within another victim. Dr. Shuyi was instantly ecstatic, consumed with joy, the joy of all that was to come for him, & his family, with zero inclinations as to what this meant for the human race. A few more tests would be needed, for sure, but Dr. Shuyi knew that Mr. Wang would be quite pleased that Dr. Shuyi had been successful in the task he was given. He would be honored, taking his place among the historic halls of distinguished heroes, a savior of the Chinese Communist Party, for the rest of time, & his family would be at his side, glorified eternally as well by the Chinese people, HIS people.
The fires in Canada continued to rage, most of them uncontrollably now, & the smoke was covering cities in the United States from Bismarck to Manhattan, riding the current of the jet stream. Only the Western part of the United States was spared the smoke from these wildfires, thanks to the wind shear courtesy of the Rocky Mountains, sloping the western half of the country from New Mexico to Montana. News reports in the United States had begin to warn residents of the air quality, & blamed the wildfires on “lightning strikes,” but none of them had a clue as to what really created this country-wide inferno engulfing much of Canada, as well as what was really about to come from these intentionally set fires. Setting the fires was easy, but getting Serum-925 virus into these fires, would be another feat in itself. Meanwhile, Dr. Shuyi had been reunited with his family, who he held close for several minutes, so long that his wife showed a glint of concern as to why Dr. Shuyi, a normally expressionless man, suddenly seemed so cheerfully happy to see them all, as if he hadn’t seen them in a very long time. She had no idea of what he had done, or how close she & her children had been to being “disappeared,” via the orders of Mr. Wang. Dr. Shuyi had always been a loving father, but when the tears of joy fell at the sight of seeing them alive, his wife knew that something was different, but as was common with Chinese wives, she asked no questions & showed no concern, simply assuming that Dr. Shuyi had done something great for not only his family, but for the country. Unconditional love & total devotion to the State was primary in China, above all else, & as the adoration from CCP members began to befall Dr. Shuyi & his family, Dr. Shuyi’s wife got caught up in the moment, & quickly forgot about the tears that her husband had shed upon reuniting with his family.
Across the ocean in the United States, breaking news reports began to be broadcast, reports of unidentified balloons flying high above the western parts of North America, first from Alaska, & then from northwest British Columbia, & then down to Montana. The objects were still unidentified, only that they looked to be “balloons” of some kind, & that there were several, slowly moving east, as they drifted into the interior of Canada, & then down into the Continental United States, following the jet stream. What the news reports did not report, however, was that these were the dispensing mechanisms for the Serum-925 virus, & that the balloons were moving into position, to do just that, dispense this deadly virus. A series of canister’s on the underside of the balloons, which had now been successfully guided by GPS via radio frequencies into strategically proper positions, began releasing the Serum-925 virus into the atmosphere above the wildfires. The virus fell into the clouds of smoldering smoke from the raging flames below, which was heavier than the air, & as the smoke lost altitude, it descended with the ash, now contaminated with the very-much-alive Serum-925 virus, & began to cover American & Canadian cities.
Quickly, the pathogen, created in a lab by the great guardian of the CCP, Dr. Shuyi, began to infect the human populations below, unknowingly, as the “vaccinated” people below breathed in what they thought to be smoky air, but only the air of wildfires, as was common at this time of the year when wildfires annually occurred. Surprisingly, few wore masks, which was a stark contrast to the mass psychosis displayed by mask-wearers during the Covid epidemic. This went on for a week, then week two began, as Americans rallied to celebrate the 4th of July, ironically a celebration of freedom & independence. What the North American public did not know, was that the Serum-925 virus had been inhaled now, by millions of them, millions who were so desperate to get the jab during Covid, as well as many of them getting “boosted,” preparing them for the real Chinese-created pandemic, which would undoubtedly, kill them all once the incubation of the virus came to fruition, for lack of a better term. The Serum-925 virus entered their bodies, through the mouth & nose, down into the lungs, to incubate, before it awakened, so to speak, & began to violently erupt, from each & every pore on their skin, like the little volcanos that Dr. Shuyi witnessed from the observation room, expelling the black pus magma, leaving the gruesome handprint on the floor, from the last “patient” he would ever treat. So began the end, the end of us, the end of these United States of America.
“For all of you, & for none of you at all.” by Fish F. Fish🎏
Are “choices” real? Plays into my previous article discussing free will and soul contracts; I don’t think soul contracts are real, & free will, that’s anyone’s guess. I’ve done a million things against my “free will,” so I’ll stay right atop the fence on that one. Not to mention, I have very vivid dreams, particularly lately, where I have literally ZERO connection to this life here in 3d Clownworld. ZERO, as if I’m existing in totally different worlds, with a different head. What can it mean? Why is it that I’m always waking up back here though, with little to memory of existing in the other place, why? Damnit, I feel like I know, deep down in a vault I no longer have access to, vibrating way down here in 3d. Nonetheless, I know, & I know I know, but as I said, the proverbial key has been lost to open those doors. Why? Who did this to me, to us, to humanity? What do these so-called “ruling elites” know that most of us do not know? Fuck that, I want answers, & I want them NOW. Severe head injuries, as well as drugs & vaccines, have kept the hamster running on the wheel upstairs, but that’s about it, so I can only speculate as to how many other people have functioned and/or are functioning in a seemingly permanent alpha state. Like I’ve been on auto-pilot, for so fucking long. The fog suddenly lifted fairly recently though, & the floodgates unleashed a torrentuous maelstrom of brain activity, including these dreams I’ve been having. What can it mean, what can it mean, what can it all mean?
Back to the topic…”choices,” are we really choosing anything? If time travel is real, then all of this is always happening & thus, has already happened, implying we’re just playing out an endlessly unchanging consciousness. I think about these things all the time, & again, I KNOW THE ANSWERS, but they’ve been buried so deep, for so long, & without a map to find them, how would one know where to even look, ya know? I still haven’t found the map, but I do believe I synchronously found the first treasure chest, filled with jewels of information, & golden truth, as to what is really going on here in this 3d Earth plane. I’m sure I don’t need to illustrate the notion that something is off here, WAYYYYY off, do I? Does all of this seem “right” to you? No, I already know it doesn’t; it is wise to trust that gut feeling that this world is…artificial, if you will. That’s because it IS, because if it’s all built on a foundation of deceptive lies, then there’s nothing real about anything, ANYTHING. It’s ALL a lie, & I am sick & damn tired of being lied to. I want to know the truth, THE REAL TRUTH, & I want to know now. Fuck you compliant alphabet agencies keeping the Great Secrets, fuck you supposed “ruling elites” for hiding the Real Truth, fuck all of you. All for your own nefarious purposes, living like royalty, & while the rest of us sink deeper into the stinking shit of poverty by the day, you fuckers get more powerful by the minute. The divide is growing exponentially. What is this power accumulation for? WHY ARE THEY DOING THIS??? I want to know, because we not “living,” per se in this life; it’s just a slow death, a slow suicide really, if you’re killing yourself every day just to survive. That is how they justify what they do, they trick you into blaming yourself, & if you believe that, you give them dominion over you, & your immortal soul.
Ugh, it’s so dreary outside today. Like 55, overcast, raining, haven’t even seen the sun for a few days, nor felt it’s divine warmth. Lots of time to think my thoughts, or channel them, no one really knows where thoughts come from, or do they? YES, of course we know, only we don’t know that we know anymore, because they’ve poisoned everything to keep us docile, docile & complacent, complying with whatever whims your masters might be whimming. Masters, & slaves, trapped on a prison planet. Most people are slaves obviously, slaves to money, while the masters vie for power. WHY ARE THEY SO POWER MAD??? GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…FUCK FUCKING FUCK, WHAT IS IT THEY KNOW THAT THEY KEEP HIDDEN??? It’s maddening, clearly, so I’m gonna wrap this up for now. It’s too gloomy to be maddened by the revelations & self-realizations arising in the bungled brain of yours truly. Until next time dear readers, do you like being enslaved? Why don’t you want to be free, free from chains that have your own initials on them, why? Maybe there’s no way out, but I’m still going to find a way, even if I have to come through the fucking walls, I WILL find the truth someday. This I choose, for you, not for me. So sayeth FisH™…🎣
For all of you, & for none of you at all… 🎣
“Even if I have to smash through the walls of this prison planet, I will find freedom via truth someday.” Fish F Fish🎣
Most of you are familiar with this song, & although I’m musically retarded, you get the point. I’ll be taking a different route than before, so technically the entire song is applicable, minus the making music with my friends part, unless you look at it proverbially. Oh wait, all my friends are dead, so the entire segment doesn’t work, does it? Oh well, the song is a classic of classics, & I’ll be thinking about it in my head soon enough. 4th time across the country, man I can’t wait to see those mountains, & eventually, the beach, & feel that Southern sunshine on my face. Ever read the book? On the Road, have you ever read it? I’ll link the audiobook below for you, even though, as all other books, it’s always much better to physically read a hard copy. However, since we live in the Clwnworld future of 2023, here’s the link, linked to a wools now long gone,ubtuNnrwk
I’m actually audio-booking it as I write this, even though I’ve read it 3-4 times now, but regardless, I like the way Jack speaks in his writing. He has a language that I have clearly taken inspiration from, & thus, I feel like I’m listening to a friend, rather than some random poser pseudo-writer. He has a way of describing people to their core, but illustrating them in a colorful way, showing all the life that surrounds whatever person and/or object he might be directing his attention. It’s amazing how all these years later, his main character, Dean Moriarty, based on the late, yet forever great, Neal Cassidy, still captivates the world, simply with his description. A whirlwind wizard warrior in a world that would prove white-hot for himself, like a million blazing suns, who happened to find Jack, who was serendipitously there to illustrate not only this most unique character Dean, but to describe his best friend, Neal, as well. Imagine the odds, of those 2 gigantic literary gas giants colliding, but sure enough, they did, & if you still think there are coincidences in the Universe, think again.
Wow, it’s been maybe 2 decades, 2 DECADES or so, since I’ve read this book. Man, what it must have been like to drive across the country back in the day like that. If you’ve read the book, & know what they had to do to keep the car going sometimes, yet they pulled it off nonetheless, it’s just brilliant, & a brilliantly wordsmithed work of literature, He speaks very “everyman,” & he got his immortally-famous masterpiece out, published in real time, then unfortunately died a degenerate drunk. Nonetheless, he just happened to be in the exact right place, at the exact right time, historically, who sacrificed more life for his own immortality. What could be more glorious? Dying in literary battle, like a warrior, it’s a s glorious as it gets, short of actually dying in battle. I’m not taking anything away from Kerouac, he’s one of my favorite wielders of the pen, but I’m just pointing out that in this life, where you’re birthing, & the circumstances around your birth, can propagate everything in later life. Suppose he hadn’t went to Columbia University, & never met Burroughs and Ginberg, then we might never know who Jack Kerouac was, now would we? It all boils down to circumstance, circumstance which appears coincidental, & most of us, just get another losing scratch-off lotto ticket, while we aimlessly hope our miserable lives will improve somehow. The lottery is a rigged hustle by the way, but I digress….just letting you know. Anyway, we can’t have winners, without losers, I suppose though, right? Sounds like another addition to The Great Quote Hunt. “Can’t have winners, without losers.” Surely, I’m not the first person to say that; it’s just too easy, but maybe I am, I don’t now, & don’t call me Shirley, you ass-kissing looper larpers.
There was such a distinction between “intellectuals” back then, & those who were deemed otherwise. Less people, more opportunity, maybe you could chalk that up to, I don’t know, the world is so insanely different now, who knows? Drawing any analogies between now-times & past-times, more-often-than-not, proves to be a exercise of futility, as we’ve never had nearly 8 BILLION humans abounding, thus, these times are quite unprecedented, aren’t they? Yep, we are in uncharted waters for sure, & as meticulous of a job as one might do to make comparisons to the Fall of the Roman Empire perhaps, it’s simply not possible to be accurately speculative in any reasonable manner, considering the sheer magnitude of what is happening right now, in the real-time. As tiny as we all are, not even visible from space, minus the lights being on. We’re 8 BILLION consumers, always consuming, as in constantly eating, then shitting, & pissing, then repeating, that’s a lot of processing throughout the course of a day, processing that waste from that aforementioned consumption, from each individual person, then throwing it in your face the next day, on top of a fresh new Aunt Jemima-covered breakfast. No, no real syrup here of course, not in the USSA, we only use high fructose corn syrup here, don’t ya know? Sugar crack, I call it, & look at all these fatties like addicts, the addicts they are. Not like their ever going to be admonished for this gross behavior any time soon. #FatIsBeatiful still trends, remember?
Anyway, before I turn this into yet-another meaningless diatribal essay, I’m go to wrap this one up. Also, I forgot that this book was written at a time, before certain cites we’re systematically ruined by failed pseudo-democratic policies. Jack wasn’t joking when he said, ” I can’t imagine the future,” because I assure you, he’s rolling in his grave, as they say, at the Clowowlrd USSA that the once great USA has become. Can you imagine these great sages of the past existing in this wonky world of today? All of the “wokeness,” the open bias and censorship, the scripted narratives pumped out via the fake news, can you imagine what these great figures from the past would say and/or do if they were alive right now, in these cancel culture times, where the name of the game is to silence those who who say/write what your don’t like, can you imagine?
Anyway, I’m done with this one. Yep, it’s time wrap this up, for real tis time, before I start going off on something else in my head. I wonder if I should talk-text document my upcoming journey? Hmmmm, one way or another, I’ll be sure to illustrate my travels; a real life On the Road, in real-time. I’m not planning on doing it again, but one never knows, do they?…so yes, my plan is that this will be my 4th & last time driving across this crumbling country of ours. That is the pan, regardless, unless something changes. I’m just hoping my Beamsy has enough to make it a few thousands miles. Until next time dear readers, happiness is only a few thousand miles away, & well worth the journey. So sayeth FisH™…
Oh btw, Title 42 ends today, paving the way for ohhhhhh…something like a MILLION human beings to rush the border, which obviously, doesn’t sound like it will end well. I’m telling you, all of you MAGA-hat wearers who believe Trump will come in & save the day in 2024 & stop all of this orchestrated chaos, are fools. I know, I know, I believed in him too, but I was wrong, so wrong. He’s in their club, as much as any of the other Capstone Clubbers, because if he wasn’t, how would he have let them beat him in an obviously stolen election. He did, however, & let’s not forget, who was the one who unleashed BILLIONS of these improperly-tested un-vaccines, that were mass-produced, distributed, & administered, all under #OrangeManBad. Don’t blame me; I’m just pointing out what should be obvious to most of you. Apparently it isn’t, but what do I know, ya know? Until next time dear readers, be mindful of where you are, because if you aren’t where you’re supposed to be, simply leave, or get fired. So sayeth FisH™…🎣
For all of you, & for none of you at all…🐡
“If you’re standing in the wrong place, swim somewhere else.” Fish Fish🎏
“You cannot have winners, without losers.” Fish Fish🎏
Oh man, if you are the kind of person that likes to stay on top of the zeitgeist, catching REAL breaking news before it breaks, YOU need to read the article linked above. Before you do though, be sure to subscribe to the Louder With Crowder channel on Rumble, because YouTube is almost as disturbingly gay as that chick, Audrey Hale, who shot up a school in Nashville, Tennessee, & now guess who’s getting the blame? The trans community? No. Psych meds? No. ONE person’s lone lunacy? NO. They’re blaming guns, & Christians, & the patriarchy, & homo-transphobes, & those crazy white supreme pizzas of course. Yep, as if on queue, blaming everything & everyone except the psychopathic bitch with a murderous intent. I mean seriously, IT IS ASTOUNDING seeing these liberal lunatics going berserker mode over this, arguably even blaming the dead children, & yikes have the social media posts from them been so utterly atrocious, it’s revolting. When will enough be enough be enough from these beta twerp buzzword-programmed freaks? Yes, FREAKS, the LGBTQ community, including their supporters, is riddled with degenerates, pedos, & mental patients, seemingly more-so, rather than less-so. I don’t see any of them denouncing what their comrades are doing, do you?
Anyway, not here to rant about the societal AIDS know as the LGBTQ community, I’m here to expose what these utterly-corrupted scumbag politicians are trying to sneak into the “Tik-Tok banning bill,” as it is allegedly ascribed to be. Oh wait, it seems it’s NOT really about banning Tik-Tok, it’s a bill that will basically be like the Patriot Act, except it’s for the Internet. Senate Bill 686, eerily close to 666, nothing weird there, but this bill has details in the proverbial fine print that give this rogue regime the power to come after ANYONE who posts content that THEY deem to be “inappropriate.” What might that entail? Great question, thanks for asking. That would mean yours truly, could be in that category. Why?…because I report the God-damned TRUTH, & in this increasingly tyrannical country, that’s soon to be verboten, apparently. Anyone else who writes about the truth, and/or makes memes that might hurt some pussy’s feelings, and/or makes videos that aren’t abiding the “community guidelines,” are going to be rounded up in the game category as myself. Sound familiar? Rounding up those who do not abide the will of the State? If not, try a history book instead of jerking off in your mom’s basement.
What do I, as a sovereign human being, say to these corrupt politicians pushing this insanely Orwellian bill? How about GO FUCK YOURSELVES? How about BRING IT BITCHES? How about I WILL NEVER BEND THE KNEE TO YOU PIG-FARM SWINE? Be sure to spell my name right on the warrants you pieces of shit. It’s B-L-O-W(space)M-E…got it? If only armed Americans could unify & simply remove this cancer that has infected our country so deeply, that by now, said cancer could be terminal. Not being hyperbolic either, because at this rate, there’s no way we’re going to make it to 2024. The true death of a nation, & even if we do, I personally believe it’s foolish for anyone to believe that ONE man, that dastardly hashtag #OrangeManBad man, the infamous Donald J. Trump, is going to somehow save not only the country, but the entire world from the agenda these shadowplayer Deep State globalists are unleashing on the world right now in real-time, at the behest of their minions. That’s a lot of eggs to put into one orange basket, just saying. Might wanna leggo your eggo, because the cult of Trump is still a cult, don’t forget that, particularly if you’re still in it 1000%. What would they do if something were to happen to him?
Nonetheless, I left several links in this article for all of you, & for none of you at all. Information is power, but so is an army, & unfortunately the same fuckwads pushing this malapropismic “bi-partisan” bill, are the ones with an actual military at their command. Would they use it on their own citizens? Of course they would, they WANT to, & these morons on the left are so far-gone, that they’ll be the first ones lined up, because that’s how it REALLY goes in Communist shithole countries. Again, read a history book. I know, I know…facts & history, like kryptonite to the legion of programmed NPC foot soldiers, who spend their days angry & rageful…grrrrrr…rage, rage, rage…the projection is staggering, & that’s why they’re all so fugly. Fugly people with fugly energy that act like fugly fuglies. It’s so gross…ugh, just rotten, nasty, disgusting people, & if any of their buzzwords get triggered…REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…honk honk honking like a clown car off a cliff, but I digress, as usual. Until next time dear readers, don’t be fugly, just be free. So sayeth FisH™…
For all of you, & for none of you at all…
“Information is power, but so is an army.” Fish F Fish
Before we start, what the hell is Cesar Chavez Day? How is it possible, at my middle-age, that I’ve NEVER heard of this silly federal holiday until now? Who cares about this guy? Oh wait, “woke” liberal retards & assumingly Mexican-Americans do I suppose. Derp. Honk honk honk…anyway, let’s move on to the topic. I just had to add this as a pre-addendum of sorts. Enjoy the rest of the article.
Well, well, well…while you were sleeping, look what your friends in the shady banking racketeering extortion industry did. Yep, in the middle of the night on a late Sunday night/early Monday morning, which isn’t suspect at all because those are normal banking hours, First Citizens bought up Silicon Valley Bank. Not only did they scoop it up in the middle of the night, they got a sweet $16.5 BILLION $$$ discount. Wow, what a deal, but I must imply here that there was NOTHING shady about this at all…nope, nothing to see here ya mouth-breathing peasants. Go to work, watch tv, eat the food, drink the water, & shut yo mouth. Don’t ask any questions, don’t do your own research, do not use your own critical-thinking skills, nope, don’t do any of those things. Just bend over & take your rump-rogering, because there’s 2 tiers of justice in Clownworld, & these so-called elites can do whatever they want, but if it were you or I, we’d be in federal prison. See how that works? Seems fair, right?
No, it’s NOT fair at all, & it’s NOT right at all…it’s as unfair as it gets, & although life itself is unfair, this bullshit that your self-imposed “leaders” pull behind the scenes exponentially amplifies the aforementioned unfairness, & serves only to give them more power, while all of you keep running around in The Great Mouse Trap. Left, right, left, right, around & around the maze, chasing the cheesebait fiat paper money that they seemingly have endless amounts of for themselves. Why should you keep busting your ass at an unfulfilling slave job, while these elitist scum just print the money that they want, launder the money that they want, extort the money that they want from YOU via “taxes” on every fucking thing you buy, so why should you abide this corruption?
Fuck paying taxes first of all; I quit paying taxes years ago & I’ll NEVER pay them again. TAXATION IS THEFT…PERIOD. Fuck the IRS…nothing but a mafia that only exists via their extortion apparatus that they call “taxes.” It’s NOT taxes, it’s silent extortion, & I don’t abide extortionist thieves. YOU can if you want, it’s up to each individually sovereign American to make that choice for themselves, but as for me, it’s a hard NO. I get “taxed” on EVERY FUCKING THING I buy, so if this rogue alphabet agency known as the IRS thinks they can “tax” me again at the end of the year on income they already taxed, after I bust my ass all year, I’m not paying it & they can go fuck themselves right up their greedy wrinkled asses. Especially after I see article after article after article reporting nonsense like middle-of-the-night weekend bank bailout deals, oh hell no. Only a compliant debt slave would comply with these grimy thieves. I myself, am NOT a debt slave, despite my outrageous debt, & my sub-500 credit score, so does it sound like I’m ever going to pay them a single penny?
Fuck no, & I hope one of those shiny new armed IRS agents, numbering around 87,000 I believe, comes to pay me a visit in person, so I can personally let them know where they can stick their bill. I’m not scared of them, & if the other 330 million Americans followed my lead, we could shut down this nationwide extortion racket in a single day. How would we do that? Great question, thanks for playing. The answer is simple: DO NOT PAY YOUR TAXES. Just take your tax forms, throw them in the trash, & enjoy the rest of your day. If EVERY American refused to pay taxes, it would stop. How could it keep going if none of us pay them a dime? It couldn’t, but unfortunately there’s no possible way that a lone rebel like myself could successfully get EVERY American to come together as ONE force to stop these corrupt scumfucks from continuing with their nefariously respective agendas. It’s unfortunate, it truly is, that Americans as a singularly solid entity cannot realize what is being done to them. Stop playing into the divide & conquer agenda, because that’s how they keep doing what they’re doing. If America wasn’t socially split in two, we could come together as ONE & end ALL of this. ONE day, that’s all it would take, ONE day of unity, & we could take our country back from these globalist operatives that are actively destroying our country. ONE day.
Unfortunately, that ONE day might never come. They’ve achieved their plan to divide the country, & neither side is coming back. Every dirty bird has TWO wings, a left & a right, but it’s all part of the same dirty bird. The lunatic left is gone…GONE…there’s no coming back for them. Don’t believe me? Try talking to one. The right, although more sane, relatively speaking of course, are putting all of their eggs into one proverbial orange basket. Trump is going to come back & save the world; ONE guy is going to come back & reverse all of this chaos these globalists have created. How about you STOP? Maybe STOP you MAGA-hat wearers, & think about the bet you’re taking. First off, the house ALWAYS wins in the casino, the “house” being these psychopathic s-elected elites, & two, what sort of gambler puts EVERYTHING they have onto one number on the roulette wheel? I’ll tell you what kind of gambler does that…a DEGENERATE gambler, & what always happens to degenerate gamblers? They lose; they ALWAYS lose. What happens if something happens to Trump? What then? That liquidates EVERY bet on Trump if he isn’t around anymore. Imagine how demoralizing that would be, all those bleeding-red hearts broken, all those Make America Great Again hopes crushed, & to be honest, I’m concerned the powers-that-be WILL do something to remove him entirely from the game.
Doesn’t matter what I think, and/or what I say, and/or what I do, because no one is going to change their echo-chambered opinions. The shadows & the echoes of the proverbially Platonian Cave are too realistic for them to realize that they are still chained to themselves in the darkness. I can scream & shout, proclaiming, “The way out is up here, at the cave exit/entrance. Look at the sunshine, look at the real reality OUTSIDE of the Cave,” but it matters not. If I go down into the Cave to try to free a single one of you, I get exiled. Well, I AM exiled, proving my point. No no no, they cannot have people exposing the TRUTH, now can they?…so they digitally banish thought-criminal dissidents like me, until they can actively search & destroy me, & everyone else who simply wants to exist in the REAL world, not this artificially propped-up Clownworld Cave you are all stuck in. They’ve hijacked the zeitgeist, as I’ve reasserted ad nauseam here, & now the snowball has grown so big, there’s no way to stop it. Eventually, the snowball has to hit a bottom though, & when it does, POOF, everyone gets covered in snow, snow-blinded by the blinding light, & buried in their own Katamarian mess. I don’t know exactly what that event would entail, but at the rate we’re going, it’s going to be a train-wreck of unprecedented dynamism.
Oh my, look at what I’ve done yet again…another multi-page essay of sorts. Add it to my list of unheard diatribes exposing the truth of the matter at hand. Can’t stop, won’t stop, & despite WordPress shadowbanning me, Facecrack & Twatter banning me for life, riding 2 strikes on Instacrap, & a fresh strike from Pootube, the “Big 4” can blow me if they think they can shut me up. It’s going to take a bullet to my brain to do that, & if that happens, IT WASN’T BY MY OWN HAND. Yes, these alphabet agencies silence people all the time, & I’m no different. Doesn’t matter if I get no traffic, the AI still actively alerts them to social dissidence, so come on you fuckers. Bring it. The others may comply & bend the knee to you corrupted cancerous cunts, but me, NEVER. Until next time dear readers, the day of reckoning gets closer by the second, so what will you do when we the cultural critical mass comes? Get learn-ed, or get burn-ed. So sayeth FisH™…🎣
EaT~aLL~YouR~FisH™ 