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™…🎏
There’s a series of channels on YouTube, which claim to be narrated “channeled” messages, messages from beings outside of this planet, as well as outside of this dimension. Obviously, I have no idea if they are, & if they’re even real at all. Lends credence to the notion that Carl Sagan detailed during his final television interview, where he illustrated a future world of technology, where the real technology is kept among the so-called “ruling elites,” while the general populous gets the scrap technology, for lack of a better expression, primarily to keep us at bay, while they use the real tech to advance themselves higher up the proverbial power pyramid. While we regular folks are playing with the aforementioned scrap tech, & unknowingly falling further & further behind, we will cling to superstitions in the hopes of a Divine reckoning of sorts, that most likely, will never come. I do not claim to believe nor disbelieve in these supposedly “channeled” messages, I simply find them interesting, particularly because they seem to have a kind of synchronous nature to them, in that they always hit on something that just so happens to be going on in my world at the moment. Not just at the time, but at the moment, almost precisely on occasion. Now either there is some kind of supernatural connection between these channelings & those of us who are knee-deep in our own unfolding spirituality, or as many psychics do, these ‘channelers” simply have an ability to come with things to say that can be applicable to anyone at any given time when spoken the right way. I’d like to believe I am personally not that naive, but I’ve believed a lot of things for a long time, only to snap out of it one day & embrace the self-realization of realizing I was gullible.
If there were ascended beings communicating through human counterparts, how else would they do what they do? None of these channels have a lot of viewers/listeners, none of them use sponsors and/or attempt to make money from posting these communications, so what reason would they have to do any of it, if they didn’t sincerely believe they were channeling messages designed to help humanity, especially such a small fringe minority of us who give them the light of day(pun intended). Often, our “missions” as so-called light beings are illustrated, albeit in a somewhat nebulous manner, & yes, I know, it sounds very new-agey, kind of weird of course, & I often ask myself, why me? I ask myself that a lot in relation to many things though, why me? Why do I have this kind of consciousness? Why am I so different from most other people? Why don’t I have a family? Why am I seemingly alone in this world, minus a handful of digital friends? Why do have this personality that I have? Why me? Why was I born into this existence, with all of these issues? Why me? Why am I the lone bastard black sheep? Why do I see the world from a perspective not shared by many, if any? Why can’t I just be functional? Why me? Am I wrong, wrong about everything I think I know? Wrong about the way I have determined I have to survive in this 3d pseudo-reality? Wrong about the way I think the world really is? Why do I think I’m wrong? Why do I think I’m right? Why me? Why am I stupid, in the sense that I have no real skills? Why did I incarnate in this particular life? If I was allowed to choose, as some say, why the fuck would I pick this? Out of the billions of possibilities, why would I choose this? If we could really choose, why would someone choose to be an abused child? Why would someone choose to be retarded? Why would someone choose to die slowly & painfully from a terminal cancer? Why would someone choose to be born in the slums of Mumbai? I am not so sure that people get to choose anything before they incarnate, or reincarnate…no, I am not so sure of that at all.
Not that I remember where I was prior to this, as none of us do, as far as we know anyway. Sure, there’s a few anomalies; people who claim they can recall their past lives, but there is n real proof, other than their own claims & their own loose “evidence.” Nope, no one knows for sure where they were before this trip down on 3d prison planet Earth, & no one is certain where we go after we take that final breath here. I’d like to believe it’s a trip to wherever it is you go when you dream, only a trip you don’t have to wake up back here from, thank God. You get to stay home, your galactic home in a dream, a dream that you have always known, always been aware of, only due to to the confines of said prison planet, you cannot recall it in its entirety, if you can recall it at all. I feel like I can recall it, to some extent, as I have detailed in several posts, several recent posts, as there’s been a noticeable increase of my journey back to this dream utopia I keep falling asleep then “waking” into, as if this 3d world is the dream. At best, I’d say I’m lucky to get 3-4 hours of sleep at a time, 3-4 hours of this 4d time here, this linear 4d time. In the dreams, however, time, as I know it here, is distorted. Some of these dreams go on for days, days in the dream time, but only a literal handful of hours in waking 4d linear time. All I can surmise, is that 4d time as we know it is askew in dreams, due to the influence of the 5th dimension, which is subject in no way to 4d time, unless one’s subconsciousness is stuck in the void between 3d, 4d, & 5d, & only occurs when we fall asleep here in 3d space. Dimensions follow the Fibonacci sequence I think, with spatial dimensions being 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, & so on, while the temporal dimensions would be the “connecting” numbers in between…4, 6, 7, 9,10,11,12, 14-20, & so on.
Obviously, I am no scientist, no physicist, no great thinker, no sage, nothing of the sort, & I have no way to prove any of what I just said, & I’m sure one of those people could easily explain how something like string theory or the 11 dimension theory makes more sense, with their own proof. In my little brain, it just seems to make sense, since virtually everything in this Universe “exists’ according to The Golden Ratio, Pi, Phi, Fibonacci, etc. We humans are so much more than we’ve been un-educated to be, & on top of the dumbing-down via school indoctrination camps, the powers-that-be have poisoned the water, the food, the minds of most of us, via broadcast programming, that at this point, it’s arguably a feat that we can wipe our own asses anymore. Obviously, this isn’t everyone, for there are many, many people out there who can do things that blow the mind. Doctors, engineers, computer programmers, even the corner mechanic in a small town, yes, there are many people from many walks of life who are brilliant in their own right, certainly more brilliant than my dumb ass. Then there are others, others who exist as though they were true-to-life NPCs, that just breed, consume, discuss nothing of merit, repeat, & that’s it, that’s all they do. I’m not much better, at least one of them usually has a job they specialize in through experience that I do not know how to do. I find myself floundering trying to humble myself lately. Why me, I ask again, what makes me so God-damned special? Nothing, NOTHING does, because I am not special. The AI can now do this, what I am doing right now, what I have always considered a unique talent, this way with words, the AI can do in a matter of seconds. It can be biased, not be biased, illustrate in any length, any tone, any way you want it. It can cite examples, evidence, utilize images, videos, it can do anything yours truly can do, before yours truly even finishes writing a title out. That puts me just above last place as far as usefulness goes. No employers care enough about my unfiltered “human-based” approach to writing articles, when they can get what they need with no spin in mere moments, & all for free, no cost.
No, the AI doesn’t need money, & neither do humans, but since we’ve been led to believe otherwise, then forced to know that if we do not have their self-printed Monopoly™ money, we cannot survive, & are just killing ourselves, killing ourselves slowly, stretching it out, draining ourselves with all of our life energy given to a power beyond ourselves. That’s just before we die, then after we die, The Great Recycler continues to drain us of our soul energy, leaving our memories wiped, our karma fucked, then figuratively shitting us back out as a newborn baby, to do ti all again, & the ouroboros can continue to eat itself, in a never-ending cycle, for all of time. Again, these are only the thoughts from the thinking mind of someone that is just a clueless human, for the most part. I have nothing, I am nothing, I am certainly no greater than any of you. Why me, why me, why me? I don’t have a purpose, no one to care, no family, no real friends, I have nothing, nothing at all, except these words I diligently & digitally pen down on the daily, for all of you, & for none of you at all. Why me, why do I this? I do this because I have nothing, & because it’s meaningless, I have found meaning in it, even though it only means something to me, thanks to The Myth of Sisyphus, & the words of Albert Camus. I’ll never be known, never be among the great writers, never be anything at all, & once I’m gone, I’ll slip into the digital oblivion forever, not a soul even knowing I was here. Maybe that’s for the best, as it’s all so absurd, so who really cares anyway? No one, not a single soul, will ever know, what I know or don’t know, & on that note, it’s time to go, as this pure stream-of-consciousness diatribe has reached its uneventful ending. Until next time dear readers, check out the channeled messages, as I have linked a few here for you. Check them out for you, not for me, or don’t check them out at all, because in the Great Picture, it matters not either way. So sayeth 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🎏
No, not really the “day of the devil,” unless you believe that every day is the devil’s, which isn’t much of a stretch here in Clownworld. Everything IS backwards & upside-down here. “Pride” is being celebrated by the queer community this month, as if it is NOT one of the 7 deadly sins…duh, ya godless heathens. One could certainly argue that the world is most certainly rife with demons & devils & such. Oh sure, most of them look unmistakably human, but are they? Maybe the world is like the movie They Live, & you can only see them with the right eyes. I look, I always look, & although I wouldn’t go so far as to say they look totally alien to the human race, there are quite a few that just…ugh…that’s the lone adjective I’ll illustrate them with, the pukeworthy ugh, on their unrespectively fugly flabulous faces. Day by day, just rotting away.
I’m not gonna go on one of my usual tirades on the current state of the human race, because this one is just capturing the day, the white date to the blue date on my little calendar widget. One must maintain a discipline, particularly when it comes to personal passions, as if it were a job, but a job you enjoy doing, as opposed to what many think they have to do, to get that loot, to pay those bills, cover the taxes, survive essentially, or at least that’s the nature of the trap most of you are stuck in. That’s right, The Great Mouse Trap, coined by yours truly, & possibly a future book. I could detail the GMT(Great Mouse Trap) for days & days, as I already have for the last 6 months, so it wouldn’t be a big stretch from the right here. We’ll see, as I have another, yes ANOTHER, book idea in the works. I wish I could just write all day, write & paint, but as mentioned earlier, apparently you need money in this fucked up world, or do you? Maybe I’ll just say to myself, “Fuck the money, write & paint daily anyway, until there’s nothing left.” It wouldn’t be the first time; I’ve been down so God-damned long that it all looks like up to me, in the words of the legendary Mr. Mojo Risin. If you don’t get that reference, perhaps the doors of your own perception are still locked, but as usual, I digress. Until next time dear readers, don’t go down with the devils. So sayeth FisH™…🎏
A red-pill dropping friend of mine, one of my only friends left, recently said to me, “Can’t change a dud, can’t fix a dud, doesn’t matter who it is, a dud’s a dud,” & he was right. He has an unusual knack for accuracy, & although he wasn’t directing that phrase at me, per se, he’s right, duds are duds. Some people come out attractive, people like them, they have a talent that they hone, with encouragement, & support, from friends & family, & then some come out the opposite. Some of us just get our asses kicked and/or ignored, especially kids from broken homes, like yours truly. It boils down to good parenting really, & responsible family planning, rather than a bunch of fuckabouts, used-car salesmen men, women with baby rabies, getting hammered, in the same place, then whoops, there’s a kid, how did that happen? Duh. What the fuck are people thinking anymore? Seriously, I wonder what the percentage is, of us who got here unplanned, does anyone know? After going what I went through, & now in my mid-40s, holy hell, SO many random kids were conceived via random drunken sex, it’s ridiculous. Often when that happens, especially nowadays, the real dad doesn’t stick around, of course, & now there’s a nation of fatherless kids with single moms that think it’s trendy to have a kid that’s “queer.” Such a backwards-ass fucked-up world we’ve turned this all into; I mean, come on, talk about ruining a society in record time, we’ve done it, & I’m still shaking my fucking head.
Empowered single women, so independent & powerful, right?….& fathers not needed, just sperm donors, or at least, that’s the ridiculous notion that was fostered long enough to create an entire generation that is few & far between when the real dad actually sticks around. Who’d wanna deal with a twat like that, minus the simp army? Plenty of simps, but all the girls want Chad, so these single moms get desperate, delusional desperate, so desperately delusional, in fact, it’s downright mental, scrambling around for a Chad on Tinder to play insta-dad, actively deluding themselves into believing it’s all just like it was before Pookie left his behbeh with her, then dipped. No worries though, he left behbeh Pookie, as a reminder of her stupidity, which works out great for the kid later on in life, I’m sure. Every time she looks at that kid, she sees Pookie, & how do you think that disgust projects toward the kid, particularly in the way she “raises” him. Tragic. You can thank “hook-up culture” for that, & body countdoesn’t matter, right? It’s all degenerate filthy behavior. Great environments for kids you slutbag single moms. Ugh. Maybe try keeping your legs closed? Just a thought. You know how babies are made, yes? You knew what you were doing, yes?…so don’t act like it’s a “man’s fault.” Enough with that bullshit, not to mention with the advent of online dating, you slags just pick out men like an All-You-Can-Eat buffet, ugh, it’s fucking disgusting. I threw my hat on the rack a few years back & decided it’s just not worth it to pick it up again. Why would I? Who wants to compete with countless other dudes saying the same bullshit to the same girl that you are? Who wants to share, in such a manner. Don’t fool yourself, she’s heard it all by this age if she’s still single & childless, & if she IS still single & childless, it’s because she’s batshit crazy. Men, listen up; YOU CANNOT WIN. Virtue is dead, & so is the sanctity of pussy as a whole. It’s dead, dead & gone, & women killed it. Do NOT forget that fact, that WOMEN killed it, not men, so if you’ve been blaming yourself, and/or thinking it’s you, take a deep breath, exhale, & listen to what I am about to tell you…it’s NOT you, it’s not them, it’s what the powers-that-be have done, to divide everyone, even the sexes, how about them apples?
Yep, what better way to destroy the nuclear family than to not only divide men & women, but to do it while simultaneously, & overtly, promoting homosexuality as a good thing, do you not see how this all fits into a larger depopulation agenda? It’s “trendy” to have a “queer” kid now, did you read where I wrote that earlier? TRENDY, to have a son that’s a fag, or a daughter that says she’s a boy, let’s abide the notions of a CHILD, makes sense right? WRONG, no, it makes ZERO sense, but since everything is backwards here in this hell Clownworld timeline we’re all in, apparently, it makes perfect sense. Considering that most of the global populous is in a state of hypno-psychosis, & the television programs them to believe whatever they’re told, most of the aforementioned global populous, are actually not only agreeing with this ridiculous queer theory bullshit, they are celebrating it alongside these mental patients who are living it in real time, topping it all off by including children. Pedo-duds, pedo-duds everywhere, & everyone of them wearing shirts that say, “I love pedo-duds,” proverbially of course, as I’m sure you get that I was being facetious there, right? Yep, beautifully “brave & stunning” rainbows, & that’s gonna show these straight white supreme pizzas what’s what, isn’t it? Derp, but regardless of how abysmally ridiculous all of that sounds, most people go along with it, if you can believe it. Yes, it’s truly shameful to see how unbelievably fickle & naive the human race has become, as a whole. Obey, consume, watch tv, work, repeat, & you all follow along. Follow in line like duds, duds in a row. Good band name, yes? (Announcer voice) “Please welcome to the stage, all the way from Bumfuck, in the middle of Nowhere, let’s make some noise for Duds in a Row,” then 4 people clap, but I digress. Wait a second Mr. Fancy Pants, what makes me so special? How am I not a dud? Do duds know they’re duds? Am I a dud, jumping off that figurative cliff in real time, like most dud lemmings?
Duh, of course I am, does it sound like I know how to do anything else other than spew drivel like this, much less act like a man for fuck’s sake? Hell no, I’m useless, as much of a dud as much as anyone else, worse so even, if I may be so humble about my utter unworthiness. I wasted my life on drugs, only to snap out of it 2 decades too late & realize how much I fucked-off my life. I have no skills, other than this, if this is even considerable as a merit-worthy skill, no kids, no job, nowhere to live that I can call my own, nothing. I have nothing, NOTHING, other than my own buzz, reminding me that I’m still alive, but why? What am I “living” for? I’m not dying for anything, but what I living for? Nothing, except my cat, my art, & myself. What’s that worth? My cat is a gem, he needs to explanation. My art stinks apparently, since no one has the balls to hire me, and/or just realizes my suckitude at writing, while I stay oblivious, I don’t know. As far as living for myself, pffffttt…I’m nothing, less than zero, & each day I wake up, wake back up here, here in Clownworld, & I cannot wait to get tired enough to go back to sleep, as if that’s a healthy way to live. It isn’t, & I know, but damnit, I got nothing left. Tried to get a job, & I got one, a decent one, relatively, & I made it a month before I got fired. Yes, it’s my fault, as is everything else, I get it, MY fault, all on me, I got it, so to my conscience I ask, “Please stop reminding me every ½ second of this fact.” Geez, I fucking get it, but yet my brain just won’t shut up. “Loser, failure, wasted talent, without skills, a dud, a DUD,” I get it damn you. Gah, this fucking voice in my head, like it’s not even my own. “Loser, loser, addict, dud, waste, no one cares, loser, dud, failure,” over & over & over, OKAY, I GET IT. Dang, no one is harder on me than myself, NO ONE, not even close, & I wonder where this harsh drill sergeant in my head could’ve manifest from? Maybe due to all of my parents being regimented military types? People who like and/or need discipline, to be told what to do, respect the hierarchy, abide the chain of command, to be yelled at, always yelling, everyone yelling, usually at me, until I yell back, & then it becomes cyclical, everyone always yelling, my whole life, YELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLING, gah, how about just shut the fuck up?…but np, no quiet for me. everyone wants to yell, yell at me, & I don’t know why, so I don’t want to be around anyone anymore. Nope, I just want to write, & paint, & that’s all, that’s all for the dud of duds, yours truly.
Is this how it goes? Is this how it was before? Have I been here before? Have I done this already? Am I cursed to be repeating this, whatever this is, until something changes? Maybe I’ve killed myself before, & I have to keep coming back & repeating this until I hold on until the actual end? How the fuck should I know? I know that when I go to sleep, I have dreams where I am somewhere else, somewhere I’ve never been, but somehow know better than anywhere I’ve ever been in real life. There are people there, people I know, people I love & vice versa, but I’ve never met these people here, in the “real world.” My mind there in that space is even different, & I have mo memories of this world, or this life, as if this, THIS is the dream. I don’t know, maybe it is, maybe it’s something I can’t understand yet, or maybe it’s nothing, & when you die, no matter how or why or when, it’s just black, a void of nothing, until you wake back up again in some new body, all just a fresh slate, no relation to the last incarnation, just universal time doing its thing, all of it unrandomly random, organized chaos, & perhaps the Universe likes it that way…just random. Planned randomness, or maybe it’s like music, that organized vibrational geometry that when heard by our own ears, can sound as beautiful as heaven sometimes. The language of music, as well as music theory, should be taught to every child as a 2nd language of sorts, but of course, it isn’t. Kids are so deprived of all they could be learning, most of them just plopped in front of a tv, and/or a tablet, some kind of screen that isn’t a canvas, is my point. No no no, we need them to shut up & obey, not explore & learn for themselves & ask questions & such. How dar I suggest that kids exploit their preciously feeling time to better themselves in a real way, rather than polluting them with broadcasts on a screen that each them nothing except how to celebrate rainbows & queerness. Like I said, this is a backwards timeline, a hell, hell to me anyway, & I’d wager I’m not alone in feeling this way.
Well, I had no plan to write what I wrote, but I’m glad I did, because this concept of “duds,” seems systemic, doesn’t it? I’m not into eugenics, per se, because the ones that are the “eugenicists,” scumfucks like Billl Gates, are the ones that “pick & choose,” so to speak, & that doesn’t jive with me. However, in the bigger picture, I understand why they want to impose a eugenic manner of breeding into this world. From their perspective, it’s two very different worlds, the duds & the not-duds. THEIR world, the one they perceive as not-duds, is made of of pedigreed, centuries-long bloodlines, while most of us, the “duds,” came about via the haphazard manners I detailed earlier most of the time, are mostly unplanned, have no inclinations toward a “pedigree” or something similar, just as random as it gets, when two dummies delude themselves into believing they’re in love, after meeting for one night, & then whoops, out you come 9 ¾ months later. Obviously, not everyone, but for many, you got here “by accident.” Nope, there was no real planning, your dad was just too lazy to pull out when your mom told him, “Just do it, it’ll be okay.” Uh oh, you got snuck chump, by listening to her & not listening to your own gut instinct. Of course, once your kid gets here, things change, & maybe, just maybe, your kid won’t be a dud, like you. Most duds, unfortunately for the kids, don’t know they’re duds, & so their kids become duds, since apples don’t fall from their respective trees, as the saying goes.
Anyway, I’ve had enough of this article. Duds are duds, & some of us don’t realize it ever, most in fact, but a few of us get it. Yep, we know, we’re duds, we come from duds, from a town called Dudville, born to be duds, & when our firecrackers never explode into a starburst of light & color, only then do we realize, we were always duds, & all that time believing your fireworks will light up the sky, was in the most naive form of vanity one can imagine. just a sad display of narcissism, but like I said, at least some of us get it, albeit late in life, but nonetheless, yep, I suppose now I get it. Is what it is, right Fishheads? Until next time dear readers, in a world of duds, the one who lights up the sky wins. So sayeth FisH™…🎣
For all of you, & for none of you at all…🐡
“In a world of duds, light up the sky.” Fish F Fish🎏
“One without purpose, is a dud, so what makes your fire crack?” Fish F Fish🎏
Well dang, it’s that time again, the Spring Equinox is here, marking the official end of the “dark winter” that was forecast by many. Was it, in fact, “dark?” Yes, I’d say so, but more of a continuing darkness, as this once great country continues to spiral downward, like the toilet I flushed earlier after my morning post-coffee log drop. I’m hearing some interesting rumors about this week ahead. Will the infamous “Trump arrest” happen on Tuesday? The world is watching, as intended, all eyes on Trump, while everyone’s eyes should be elsewhere, focusing on what’s going on behind the scenes, rather than the fake news that the powers-that-be broadcast 24/7 via their scripted-narrative mainstream mass media multi-outlet machine. I’ll get to the big rumor in a minute, but I wanted to acknowledge another milestone reached in my widgets on the right side of my page, if you’re viewing this in full-site mode. Of course, said milestone being the beginning on springtime, the only pretty ring time, birds sing, hey ding, a dinga-ding, sweet lovers love, the spring. RIP Gene Wilder, or rather, Jerome Silberman.
Oy vey, there sure are a lot of…people that change their names in Hollywood, aren’t there? Regardless of the unusually large number of these “name-changers” in Tinseltown, no one else could be Willy Wonka in that role he played back in 1971’s nostalgic classic Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory. Brilliant performance, & what a gem the movie itself is; I think I know every song all the way through, because I’ve watched that movie countless times. We Gen-X ’80s kids know what it’s like to only have a certain amount of VHS movies at your disposal, so what do you do? You watch them over, & over, & over, & over, & over again. Why did we do this? I don’t know exactly, but we did, at least I did, & all my childhood friends did, so I can only assume that other Gen-Xers know what I’m talking about. Classic ’80s movies, & for me it was flicks like Roadhouse, Drugstore Cowboy, Altered Sates, any brat pack flick, the original Tron. Big Trouble in Little China is so legendary that it gets its own sentence. Dang, I was having trouble at first because there were so many movies flashing before my childhood eyes, that I was blanking on the names of which ones to pick. No worries dear readers, for now the flood gates have opened, unleashing a tidal wave of movie titles I want to add, but if I did, I don’t know where I’d stop, know what I mean? Those days of going to the VHS rental place with the fam, & everyone individually picking out a movie, then back home to watch them. Remember all those selections? Oh man, so many, think of some great ’80s movies, try it yourself, think of your favorite ’80s movies, then just think of ’80s movies in general. Surreally nostalgic feeling, isn’t it? Good times, such a good time, the ’80s were as a kid.
Springtime as an ’80s kid was great too. Everyone ready to hit the empty lot at the end of the street for no-pads full-tackle football. We didn’t really hold back either, it was kind of brutal. Always went home with skinned knees & cuts & bruises & such, but so what? That’s what being a kid was about back then. We were savages, young enough to bounce back, & no one ever broke a bone in our neighborhood pigskin matchups, not one of us. Never once was an ambulance called from the age of 4-5, to the age of 10, other than me at that 4-5ish age range. My first ambulance experience was my clumsy little ass, & I detailed that terrible accident in another post somewhere in the archives. Not going to re-tell the terrible tale here, but I will re-recite the highlight, which is that I think I died on the operating table, or at least dreamt that I did. I recall “floating,” which I have to quote because I don’t have a word for standing there with no legs anymore, or a body. However, standing there, I watched the whole operation, & someone was standing next to me, watching along side, but I have no idea who it was or what they even looked like. I do not recall this person saying a word, only that I felt very comfortable next to this entity, & happy that they were there. We watched from atop the highest seats in something like an ancient Greek amphitheater, & there my unconscious little body was, down on the “stage” so to speak, looking pale & dead from all the blood loss, tube down my throat, with a team of doctors sewing my face back together. I suppose my soul self, now separated from my body temporarily, & some other unknown soul, we’re watching all of this. Whoever this person was, I feel like they’re always with me somehow, even to this very day, this first day of Spring. Maybe one day I’ll find the answer when we see each other again on the astral plane, if we do. Still gives me a haunting feeling, get it?
Before I get off the exit ramp to Segueville yet again, I’m going to wrap this article up. I meant to have it out by this morning , the beginning fo the day, for obvious reasons. Other duties called though, which is rare mid-article for yours truly, but such is life. Oh shit, I almost forgot, stay mindful tomorrow. This theatrical nonsense with an alleged “Trump arrest” is a big-time psy-op. Not sure why they’re doing it, or exactly what the real end goal of this particular play is, but it looks like we’ll all know more soon enough. Until next time dear readers, remember that plays are made up of acts, & actors acting. So sayeth FisH™…🎣
For all of you, & for none of you at all…🐡
“Plays are made up of acts, & actors acting.” Fish F Fish🎏
This Fooze is going to be about a girl I like to watch. No, not like that ya filthy fucking animals; she’s on YouTube, she has a YouTube channel, & her name is Grace, or so I assume, since her channel dons the moniker, “Really Graceful.” I posted the link to her new book, “The Deep State Encyclopedia; Exposing the Cabal Playbook.” Obviously, the book is about exactly what the title implies, & is essentially a compendium of all of the “chosen” families who rule the world from the shadows. Of course, they chose themselves, & this nefariousness goes back centuries now, yes, a centuries old long-game. This game, THEIR game, ends with them taking total control over the entire planet & ruling from a centralized location with a one world government, & a one world order. Grace does a very thorough job of illustrating the respective histories of these so-called “elite” families, who have maintained their power via arranged marriages & inbreeding, in order to make sure their hereditary links are what binds them. “Your family is your family, & what else is there but family?” …you know that old quip, except these ruling-class dynasties take it to an enirely different level than we peasants do. They can’t have just anyone in the family, now can they? Nope, in their psychopathically heartless world, it’s not about love, it’s all about retaining status through marriage, which also implies a eugenical aspect to this bizarre dynamic, doesn’t it? It’s not like the eugenics programs they unleash upon us Plebian masses though, oh no no no. Their version is more of controlled breeding via strategically organized marriages, while ours is controlled by abortions, poisoning the food & water, programming children with television to be gay, etc…so as you can see, it’s most certainly two different approaches to the notion of “guided reproduction,” now isn’t it? Regardless, I’m keeping this Foozer short today; it’s more of a Monday placeholder, & I’m pretty confident that the big tech overlords are going to try & squash the videos that Grace uploaded about her book. She actually reads some chapters from her book, & illustrates the narration with some solid evidential video work to accompany the read-along. I’ll go ahead & link one of the accompanying videos below, before she gets censored. Keep in mind, I cannot guarantee this video will be here forever unfortunately. Roll the clip.
There you go, you now have a link at the top to get yourself and/or your friend a copy of the book; I believe it’s only $19.99 on Amazon(my copy is en route), & you also have her video about the Bloodlines of the Capstone Clubbers above, which is about an hour long & a MUST WATCH. You will not believe how sinister their game really is, because it goes DEEP, & these evil scumbags have been the center of all of the chaos that the world keeps getting thrust into. Orchestrated chaos, via soulless psychopaths. Maybe that’s why the do what they do, perhaps they have no souls, what do you think? Nonetheless, check out all the links above, & be sure to subscribe to Grace’s YouTube channel. She is amazingly meticulous with her research, & I have recommended her for years now, so I’m really happy for her to have a published book she wrote go to number one on Amazon’s best-seller list. That’s amazing. Great job Grace, if you happen to come across my drivel. Until next time, dear reader, discover the truth for you, or be consumed by lies for them. So sayeth FisH™…🎣
For all of you, & for none of you at all…🐡
“Discover your own truth, or be consumed in their lies.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
Isn’t my silly little Oompa Loompa GIF fun? I made this like 7 or 8 years ago maybe. No skip in the GIF either, as even back then, I was well-aware of the infamous “skip in the GIF,” & was quite meticulous to make sure the “skip” ain’t in the GIF. Anyway, who cares? Easy answer: NOBODY, no one gives a flying fart about a “skip in a GIF.” Derp. I care, but no one else does. Does anything even matter then really? These little blips of an existence here we all experience before POOF, you’re just gone, gone like a dried-up dandelion, as you blow it into the wind. The only thing I’ve ever watched actually die, was my cat Fritz. He was there, they gave him the drugs, then 10 seconds of an eternity later, he was gone, just gone. So…final, yes that’s the word, & it really sucks for everyone left behind, in that case, me. The quiet of all of his things when I got home was so surreal. He was just not here anymore, but where did he go?
Well, they say your pets go to the Rainbow Bridge (👈🏻click link to read more), & of course, I’d like to believe that. I’d like to believe SOMETHING happens when sentient life is extinguished from its 3d meat suit. Dogs & cats dream too, & I think that anything that can dream, has a conscious immortal soul that has always been here, & will always be here. If that’s the case, you never actually lose your pets when they die, as they are your eternal soul companions, & you always find each other throughout your countless reincarnations. When they die, they just aren’t here, but they’re there, wherever there is, maybe the aforementioned “Rainbow Bridge,” I don’t know. I’d like to believe it’s real though, & I kind of have proof that it is, although I’m sure I’m stretching my “proof” a bit, because I’m obviously going to be bias. The pragmatist in me has a different view, but the mindfully hopeful me, has nearly convinced me via said “proof,” that the Rainbow Bridge and/or a “pet afterlife,” DOES, in fact, exist. Want the “proof?”
My new cat, Milo, is quite possibly Fritz, reincarnated in a new cat, & why might I think this? Well, Fritz & I had a uniquely close bond. That little dude & me went through some seriously dark times, as dark as it gets, but he was with me all the way through it. Unfortunately, & I will never not feel at least partially responsible for this, he had kidney failure at the young age of 11, & died slowly over the course of a year or so. Maybe it was what I fed him, maybe it was something at some point in the bad environments I was in, I don’t know, but 11 is too young for kidney failure, too young to die for a cat. Anyway(tear falls), it was the worst time ever, & things got dark for awhile for yours truly, as dark as the edge of the perimeter of life, right on the edge, so close, & somehow I came all the way back. Until last year, when the crypto crash wiped me out like a surfer riding giant waves, just wiped the fuck out. Everything I fought so hard to get back, gone, but I’ve ranted about that before, so excuse the digression. I’m still dealing with it in real-time, so it just comes out. Anyway, back to the darkness of death…
Then one day, 4 years ago, a curious little kitten just kind of came from nowhere, like literally, it’s very odd, almost spooky how we found each other, so I named this little curiosity Milo, & there he was. Didn’t take long for me to notice that he stuck to me like glue, like a glued-on shadow, same as Fritz, & you know what else didn’t take long to notice? The bond, it was the same unexplainable soul bond I had with Fritz, but now it was Milo. Is Milo possibly my sweet Fritz reincarnated? Milo is Fritz, Fritz is Milo, Finkel is Einhorn.
I don’t know…like I said earlier, the pragmatist in me says, “Nah, that’s just how cats are. You’re a good cat dad & he knows it, so it seems like Fritz, but it’s a totally different entity altogether. Now get your head out of the clouds & go make us some croissants, 2 regular, one chocolate, don’t forget the syrup & butter.”
However, the wishful existentialist in me counters by proclaiming, “Stop listening to the pragmatist, he’s always bluntly honest, which is good, but he’s an asshole about it. He doesn’t know for sure either. Does he remember being born? No. No one knows the true answer. It’s good to believe in “life” continuing after we die, & that it’s NOT just this, then it’s over forever. If there’s also a Rainbow Bridge in the afterlife, where you reunite with your forever-pets, that’s great. You’ve dreamt of such things, so why can it NOT be real, at least as real as real is once you cross over after death? Have some faith in something. will ya?”
Hmmm, I’d say the existentialist won that one. Valid points, & you cannot deny the pragmatist and/or dismiss him completely, but considering my own personal experiences, the daily synchronous “reminders” reminding me that this trip here on 3d Earth is insanely temporary, yet has a divine purpose. It only seems like a long time sometimes when you’re here, but I don’t think the concept of time, as we know it here in 3d, exists in the place where you go when you die. If it is truly the 5th dimension that you return to, it would be like a dream. Does time seem “relevant” when you’re dreaming? No, it doesn’t, & hours can fly by like seconds, although in the dream space it could seem like days. See what I mean, see how time gets overtly distorted when you sleep, is that because you’re caught between 3d space, 4d time, & 5d where your soul is free?…& since 5d does not follow the laws of 4d time, it causes a “distortion” in your own perception of said time perhaps? Of course, I have no way of definitively proving this, & it’s just something I’ve hung onto for a long time for some reason. I would certainly like that to be the case though, & what a sense of refreshment that must be, the return to 5d, the FULL return, not this halfway-there thing that happens when you sleep & dream.
Unfortunately, I’ve never really gotten to mention this to anyone in person. Why? Good question, & I don’t know why. Communication breakdown maybe? I come from a family unit of 1980s programmed television zombies. Watch tv, consume, obey, work, sleep, eat, shit, piss, repeat, repeat, repeat…yikes. What a fucking mess these baby boomers created, my entire generation, the Gen-X tv babies, such programming, which sadly, extended to the next generation, squared, & then the next generation, squared again, all into this societal conundrum that the American public has become. Just look at that insane State of the Union speech last night, what a disaster, & completely reflective of these baby boomer dinosaurs still fucking it up for everyone else. Mark Dice, one of the few journalists left that I trust, just posted a great video detailing last night’s atrocious debacle. There’s a bonus from Chris Rock in the video too, bringing in some comedy from when he was still funny, to this ever-growing tragedy unfolding in real-time as this country sinks lower & lower into 3rd world communism. Oh I almost forgot…THEN, after Chris Rock, Dice posts a video from the infamous “Orange Man,” announcing his 2024 Presidential run, which I’m sure will create even more chaos. Wunderbar. Buckle up. Honk honk honk…
👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻ROLL THE CLIP👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻
Unfortunately, no one cares. No one cares what I think, or what I write about, or how I try to spread TRUTH, God forbid. I keep writing though, it’s all I got, my writing & my animations, on an endless loop, & there it is, always as if on queue, my circularity, the beginning birthing the end, then dying into a new beginning. My literary ouroboros, as if with a mind of its own, never fails to find me when I write these. No one cares about my circularity, I know, but I do. Maybe I’m the only one, the Lone Ranger who truly appreciates the circularity of a well-written article. I mean, IT finds me, not the other way around, & to me, that’s a fascinating phenomenon. I don’t know, I’m weird, but that’s how this weird fish rolls I suppose. Until next time, meh doesn’t matter, no one cares, right? So sayeth FisH™🎣
WordPress offers these daily writing prompts to encourage writers to write, particularly those who are experiencing the dreaded “writer’s block.” I don’t actually have that problem, as I have discovered the cure for this unnecessary affliction. Wait, did he say, “unnecessary?” I sure did, but hang on, how is it “unnecessary” exactly? It’s actually really simple. No one ever told me this directly either, I just kind of figured it out on my own. Before I honor the prompt above, for poops & laughs, I’m going to tell you this “cure” if you’re having difficulties with your writing. It’s so simply genius, I think it goes over many writers’ heads who are stuck in the predicament of not knowing what to write about. Ready? The “cure” is this: WRITE. Just write down your thoughts, it’s so easy. Are you thinking about not being able to write? WRITE THAT DOWN.
Here’s an example: “I cannot write right now, & I do not know why. Maybe there’s something bothering me. What is bothering me? Why am I having such difficulty thinking of something to write about? What am I thinking about? I can’t stop thinking, maybe I think too much. What are thoughts exactly? Where are these thoughts coming from? Are thoughts manifesting via my own free will, or am I channeling them from somewhere else?” That’s just a string of thoughts I had while I was thinking about what I’d be thinking about if I were you, & I was struggling on the block. See how easy that is?
You just go from there. Easiest “cure” there is. I could obviously just keep running with that thought-train, which would turn into a paragraph, then a few paragraphs, then before you know it, I’m proofreading a 5-page diatribe about where my thoughts come from. Easy as a bag of peas. If you can’t write, write about not being able to write, then go from there. Give it a try…look at that, it’s a miracle, I’ve “cured” your writer’s block, digitally. You didn’t even need to make an appointment to schedule a visit to my clinic either, all “cured” in a few short paragraphs. I should charge money for this miracle “cure,” but nope, I happily offer my trick to all of you, free of charge dear reader. I know, I know, I used to have issues coming up with things to write about. Writing prompts, like the one up top there, didn’t help much either. They’re too generic, but…there is someone who gives writing prompts that GREATLY helped me out. Would you like to know who that person was?
The one & only, Dr. Jordan Peterson. He has an online course entitled, “Self-Authoring,” & although I am still completing the course, the benefits are already well-apparent. It’s actually quite remarkable, he asks a series of questions, then based on your answers, various writing prompts come up. These prompts, & the initial questions, are all biographical in nature, so when you get to the prompts, you are essentially going to be writing about yourself, & your past. I can’t explain how it works, it’s kind of magical, but as you complete these prompts, & get your baggage out of your head, & onto a visual medium that you can read back to yourself, somehow that “clears” up these shadows that have been following you your entire life, prior to illustrating them on digital paper. He’s brilliant, & I got the course as a Christmas present, which was exciting, for me it was at least. I got to work on it immediately, & as soon as I finished the first prompt, I noticed an overwhelmingly fresh sense of…”relief,” you could say. Yes, I was quite relieved, but why?
Writing things down isn’t just “writing things down,” there’s an energy to it. Once you write something down, it has become manifest, as if it’s its own living entity, birthed by you, but impregnated by the Universe, or by wherever thoughts arise from. Why do you think it’s called “spelling?” You’re casting spells, when you speak aloud, & when you write things down, you’re spelling, then broadcasting your spells out to the world. It’s as if it’s exposing itself right in front of you, & you’re not seeing it, until you really SEE it, like right now, after I just explained “spelling” to you. It’s all in the words, in the shared language, right there, as obvious as it can be, right in front of your faces, yet most people miss it, & sadly keep speak-and-spelling out loud, without thinking first. Mindfulness, the idea of being well-aware of yourself & your surroundings at all times, is CRUCIAL, once you’re aware of the aforementioned “magic” of well-worded wordery. One can’t just be spelling haphazardly, you can’t just speak aloud, without knowing what you’re saying, because all you’re doing is casting chaos into the world.
Kind of explains why things are so insane these days, doesn’t it? Chaos magic via chaotic use of language, via the chaotic televised programming, then trickling down into an evermore chaotic zeitgeist, infecting the spirit flow, like a parasitic cancer. Oh yes, there’s most certainly a dark/light magic aspect to this spelling I’m discussing. People caught up in whining about “hate speech,” when there’s no such thing. They get focused on a corner of the painting, just a small corner view, then assume the entire painting is the same as that exposed corner. Their misuse of the language is an example of chaos magic. It makes no sense, hence it’s “chaotic,” but they ignorantly keep spelling it out into the world anyway. Chaos is darkness, disorder, very UN-natural, but so is the world these days, is it not? There’s so much to do with “chaos,” that one so inclined can write about, so it puzzles me how so many writers get stuck on the block, & can’t get off. Good thing I’m here then, yes? To digitally smack your ass off the block, with only benevolent intention though, to help YOU help yourself. I can help you as far as writing anyway, just remember the “cure,”…when you can’t write, write about not being able to write. Write down every thought, ALL of it, just write it ALL down, then go from there. Feel better, dear reader?
Look at that, my oh my, I just love how I seem to always find the beginning in the end of these articles I compose. Like I’ve repeated to you all before countless times, “I do not know what I have written, until I have written it.” I just plug in & GO GO GO. Once I complete the loop after finding my respective circularity, the beginning at the end, I go back, & proofread what I have created, only to fix grammatical errors & the occasionally mis-worded sentence. Then I add tags & categories, followed soon by the belovedly sought-out “publishing time.” It’s weird, I admit, I don’t know what I’m doing exactly, I only know that I AM, in fact, DOING it, doing this, whatever this is. What IS writing? What is THIS? Well, I just explained that above, answering my own question, didn’t I? Duh…on me, I suppose I’ll shake my head at myself there, I do that sometimes, but I digress, & it’s time to wrap this random article up. Didn’t even get to the suggested “writing prompt” from WordPress at the top up there. Double duh…to the moron in the mirror this morning. Oh well, maybe next time.
I think the real-time example of how to overcome “writer’s block,” in addition to actually explaining to you, dear reader, how to “cure” said writer’s block, is worth much more than me describing to you how my thoughts on “death,” change my perspective on “life.” However, & I’ll give WordPress credit, that’s not a bad writing prompt at all, not too generic. I was being over-critical hen I said that earlier, it’s really not a bad prompt. One could go in many different directions writing about that specific prompt, so maybe I’ll keep it in the vault for a future article. We’ll see. Until next time, “when you’re stuck on the block, just write about the block, until something comes along to smack you off the block.” So sayeth FisH™🎏
For all of you, & for none of you at all.
“When you’re stuck on the block, just write about the block, until something comes along to smack you off the block.” ~Fish F Fish🎣
“I do not know what I have written, until I write it down.” ~Fish F Fish🎣
If any of you live in an apartment or a condo complex, you’re probably well-aware of the scenario I’m about to discuss momentarily. Since most Americans are spoiled beyond repair, they often have little clue about just how good they have it here. All the incessant whining about everything in the USA being “systematically racist,” or anything involving the word “patriarchy,” or “misogyny,” & even the made-up nonsense like “white woman syndrome,” how about you liberal lunatics try this pseudo-revolution in another country & see how it goes? Even in the Westernized socialist “woke” countries, like in Western Europe, you CANNOT just walk into said countries all willynilly, with NO documentation, with free resources waiting for you, & bring your bullshit with you, NOPE, we only do that here in the once great USSA, & STILL the redundant buzzword-laden complaining continues. & STILL, my neck hurts from shaking my fucking head at Clownworld…(honk noise)
All day, all night, 24/7, 365, the clowns beep their horns…honk honk honk honk honk. America has become so fat & lazy, analogous to the actual morbidly obese American citizens in this faltering country, growing by the day(pun intended). The average weight of an American adult female is 171 pounds. See below. Does that seem reasonable? NO, fat is not “beautiful,” it’s disgusting, & even worse, it’s UNHEALTHY. It’s an obvious sign of utterly poor eating habits, don’t give me the genetic argument. Poor parenting, teaching poor diet & exercise habits, how about blaming the real culprits for a change? Nope, doesn’t work that way here in Bozoville. It’s EVERYONE ELSE’S FAULT, never the self-proclaimed, “VICTIM.” No, personal responsibility, along with individual critical-thinking skills, & just plain common sense, have all flown the way of the dodo. I’m thinking these are all just the results of the slow-kill, the slow-kill of most of YOU, via your globalist overlords. Not aware?
High fructose corn syrup is the crack of raw sugar, it’s POISON, you’re POISONING yourselves, yet not entirely at by your own chubby hands. They tricked you, your people-herding masters, they’ve deceived you dozy walruses, for decades now, getting you addicted to high fructose corn syrup & similar poisons. Essentially, it’s all sugar crack, & millions of people are unknowingly, or maybe unwillingly, refusing to admit to themselves that something ain’t right? Does it feel “okay” to be obese? No, & I’m feel bad for some fo you, despite my blunt language, it’s fucked up, it’s a terribly sinister part of the overall social engineering agenda. Unfortunately, the globalist orchestrators of these social engineering plans being carried out in real-time, could care less about your feelings. You’re just another number in a data-collection set, an expendable number at that. We ALL are, me included, & although I’m not obese at all, I mean a much t them as as of you, less even probably, because I’m a publicly self-avowed dissident. Tyrannical communists tend to shoot people like me in the back of the head, then leave my lifeless corpse in an unmarked mass-gravened shit-filled ditch. Historically, that’s how it ends for people like me, so don’t misconstrue any of what I write as some kind of elitist gibberish. I’m fucked if the globalists take over, one of the first to go. Can’t have the free-speakers, especially the ones who can write, nope. Line them all up, & all their friends, & family members, then execute them all, as a warning to anyone else who dares challenge “The State,” and their respectively corrupt & weaponized alphabet agency armies. Come & get me when it all goes down, I’ll be here, but as always, I have digressed into another snarky attack on the real elitists in the room.
Where was I? Oh yes, real crack doesn’t make you morbidly obese, just saying. This is all part of the slow-kill depopulation agenda. Originally Agenda 2030, but now I think it has morphed into something more disorganized, but accelerated, as their plans have been openly exposed, not that that’s ever mattered. Nonetheless, the agenda now has an end goal much sooner than 2030. The original agenda is a decades-long operation. Hence, why I say “slow-kill.” They’ve added fluoride to the water, for decades now, to make you docile, as the data reports from the tests the Nazis did on the Jews with fluoride. Didn’t you know that’s where the fluoride idea in the water, in your toothpaste, & even in the mouthwash came from? Oh yes, thoroughly tested on the Jews, to keep them complacent while they worked themselves to death. After the war, it was put into public drinking water in many “developed” nations, & for the most part, is still there, under the guise that it helps your teeth. Not really, just making you slow, so you eat more sugar, & you get fatter, & slower, & more complacent, easy to control/program. Agenda-driven, but still just poison, it’s all poisonous, the poison in the food, the poison in the water, & then add this. Add this totally mental, self-entitled, all-consuming, all-addictive instant gratification “mine, mine, mine” ideology into them, all via television broadcasting & social media, & now you’ve poisoned their minds, as well as their bodies. Critical mass imminent, pun intended, & what does said “critical mass” entail? The Lucifer Principle metamorphosis, in real time. The macro-organism is going to split itself, into maybe 2 new macro-organisms? Or perhaps the big macro-organism remains, but a new micro-organism divides itself from the macro? Or it’s possible the micro that splits from the macro, then splits itself again, leaving 2 new micros & a grand macro remaining? I have no idea, but my imagination allows me to visualize the possibilities, albeit from a distant persepctive, from way out on the perimeter, just watching, studying the habits of this zeitgeist entity. All that said, the end game is ending before 2030 methinks, but what do I know? I’m just a fish, looking back into the fishbowl. Take what I say out with the trash, but light a cig first.
Taking out the trash, the literary ouroboros leading me back to the title of this article, “Dumpster Fire.” Americans have become so lazy, they can’t even get their garbage into the dumpster. Any of you who live in an apartment complex, or a condo complex, or even in a high-rise-like dwelling, anywhere where the trash is commonly disposed of in the same area, you know what I’m talking about. Doesn’t matter if the dumpster is COMPLETELY empty either. For instance, if the garbageman literally just hopped on the back of the truck for the next stop after emptying the dumpster, YOUR dumpster, count on some lazy dickhead walking their own bag of garbage out to that freshly-emptied dumpster, & then proceeding to just leave it next to the dumpster, never actually putting it IN the dumpster, because that would be too hard. This phenomenon was once relatively limited to low-income areas, with greater populations of progressively more-degenerate poor people, but as the cancerous degeneracy has increased tenfold, & is seeming to be exponentially growing by the day, more & more people are adopting this incredibly mundane lifestyle of complete laziness. Does the dumpster phenomenon happen where you dwell?
Maybe it has something to with depression? “Self-care” is a big factor of severe depression, as in a literally noticeable general observation of a increased LACK, of said “self-care” these days. You don’t go to the grocery store in pajamas. Sorry, not sorry, you don’t, but many do, more each day. All backwards here in Clownworld, remember? Perhaps these people who do this, are just really depressed, & if you can’t get out of your nightly PJs to go to a public supermarket, I suppose getting your trash into the actual dumpster when you take out your trash is asking a lot. I totally understand…NOT. NO…NO NO NO, NOPE, not buying that nonsensically poor excuse. If you can get the trash from your respective dwellings, TO the dumpster, you can surely then put your own disgusting garbage INTO the dumpster, for fuck’s sake. Come on now people, most of the work is done by the time you get to the dumpster. In fact, like 99% of the work is already done if you made it tot he dumpster. You made the trash, you filled your own trashcan with your own garbage, & when it was full, you made a conscious decision to take out your own bag of waste before it gets nastier as the contents began to decompose. That would be gross if you didn’t, right? Wouldn’t want to just leave your own bag of rotting trash in your own dwelling, stinking up the place, right? You then take your own bag of trash, out to the public dumpster, where decomposing rotting filthy individual bags of trash are collectively collected to be disposed of properly, so as not to be a nuisance. All YOU have to do, is throw YOUR OWN bag of trash into said public dumpster, that’s it. You made the trash, now someone is going to take it away FOR YOU before it becomes a problem, & FOR EVERYONE ELSE. It’s a public service, that YOU pay for, collectively, & is agreeably very convenient for everyone, is it not? However, instead of even fathoming a single word of what I just illustrated, random lazy fucks just leave their trash on the ground, by the dumpster. Not IN the dumpster, BY the dumpster, leaning against the outside of the dumpster, slowly oozing its mysteriously gross contents onto the ground. Yep, that last little singular second of physical effort, to toss YOUR own trash into a stationary container that is then picked up, & taken away for YOUR convenience, & the convenience of your neighborhood, that last thing YOU had to do, YOU fail to do, you lazy fuckers.
Obviously, this is ONLY being directed at those clowns who actually do this. I am noticing it becoming more prevalent though, because it used to happen all the time at an apartment complex I used to live in that was “across the tracks,” as they say, on the rougher side of town. Very diverse community, very progressive, as they “progressed” to NOT get their trash into the dumpster. It got so bad, ugh, I was really happy to get outta there, & back to much more civilized surroundings, at least you’d think so, right? In a nicer side of town, wouldn’t the people be more responsible? Nope, false logic, unfortunately, because low & behold, what happens the other day? HERE, in the “nicer part of town,” with actual big trashcans for the community garbage, nice big clean trashcans, what happens? These big trashcans are in a gated space even, keeping the unpleasant view of the trash from the view of the residents. Did that stop some lazy loser though? Nope, & sure enough, what was out there yesterday morning? A fresh bag of trash, inside the gated trash area, leaning against the big trashcan. ON it, not IN it. These big trashcans were far from full, there was plenty of room, more than enough for this lone bag of trash, dumped lazily in its place by an unknown dweller in this community. I have a good idea who it is, but no proof, yet. Doesn’t matter, until it matters, know what I mean? There it was though, as if telling me to “go fuck myself,” someone’s disgusting trash, ON the trashcan, instead of IN the trashcan. I know there’s an analogy in there somewhere, & I’m gonna find it.
It begins with one bag, then becomes many bags, & I know because I watched this phenomenon evolve over time at the aforementioned apartment in the ghetto I once resided in. Point of all this is, it’s yet another reflection, a sad reminder, that our once great American society is quickly devolving into some 3rd world litter-box country. Where’s the class, the sophistication, the critical-thinking, the PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY, the COMMON FUCKING SENSE, where did all that go? How can you get your trash all the way from your house, to the dumpster, then NOT put it in there? Is nothing going on upstairs with you people who do this? Maybe just a fat hamster running on a wheel that takes you nowhere except round & round, is that what goes on in your mushy minds? It’s just so incredibly lazy, & ignorant, but so is this country, the proverbial rotten fish, degenerating from the head down, rapidly, & we’re still trying to cut it up & serve it as sushi to the rest of the world.
These trash-trailers though, hey that’s not bad, instead of “trailer trash,” you got the infamous “trash-trailer,” people who leave a trail of trash behind them, because they’re too lethargic to dispose of their own waste properly. They sure have time to blame everyone else though, with a new pseudo-lexicon of buzzwords from the age of “wokeness,” as the indoctrination manifests its Frankensteinian social experiment in real-time, like animated pieces of dead corpses, stinking & rotting up the zeitgeist. How bout we throw that in the dumpster already? What a fun article to write though I must admit with a forlorn sense of self-satisfaction. Not being sarcastic either, lots of quips came through on this frequency. Good channeling, good times, gotta program this station in for another time. Time, time, time(echoing out)… Until next time dear readers, put your fucking trash in the God-damned dumpster, & no, that phrase has nothing to do with dumpsters. So sayeth FisH™…🎏
For all of you, & for none of you at all.
“Always put your trash into the dumpster, not beside it.” ~Fish F Fish🎣
EaT~aLL~YouR~FisH™ 