My Drugs

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™…🎏

The Black Bus

I was born on the black bus, went to school on the black bus, got locked up via a black bus, & the black bus stops in front of the new black office 24 times a day. There’s no escaping the black bus. It’s my curse, maybe even the death of me. Perhaps the last black bus will be the coroner’s van, or the hearse, or some kind of toxic waste disposal van when World War 3 pops off. If the swamp gas can’t kill me, maybe the black bus will. Who knows? When does the real fun begin, or is it projected to unfold into a future of a scrapper, with no more moon rides? Doesn’t matter, for it’s just a click on a screen, then it’s gone, “life” itself, if one can call it such. Until next time dear readers, yours truly was just thinking of the black bus, this sweat-stinking black bus, that just keeps coming, & coming, as if I’m meant to ride it. Surreality. So sayeth FisH™🎏

The Fooze: S7E20 7/20/2023 Hotel Hell

Yours truly is undergoing a week-long stay in a shitty hotel in a ratchet part of North Denver, & oh my, has it been fun. First off, the room smells; it smells like overdoses, prostitution, moldy shower curtains, & an A/C unit that pumps out “fresh” air smells of must & ass. There’s no microwave, or mini-fridge, so I’ve been living on fresh fruits & donuts. I had to use some Macgyver tactics to keep the curtain closed, draped over a window that has no lock, so theoretically, a thief, or a serial killer, could easily just open the window & hop in. Fortunately, I am armed to the teeth, so if anyone comes in, it’ll be the last window they ever jump through, but I digress, now where was I? Oh yes, the bed is actually comfortable, surprisingly, but the A/C blows right onto it, so if I’m lucky enough to sleep for a few hours, I have to bundle up with the extra comforter I stole from the maid’s laundry area when the managers weren’t looking. The irony, I know, talking about thieves but I had to steal a comforter. It’s not actually theft, since I’m not keeping it, obviously, so I consider it as just borrowing. Speaking of thievery, the door has definitely been kicked in; the frame shows signs of breaking & entering, & even though the door locks, the lock was put on backwards. Let’s see…what else before I move on to the outside of the room…what else, what else? Oh, I am using the drawers as a makeshift table/place to write this on my computer, & as I look to my left, while I type this, I see that the left drawer is missing entirely, which leaves a nice little hidey-hole for my cat to play in. Poor little guy, but he’s been such a super-trooper over this last week we’ve gone through. Luckily, I think I’ve found a safe place for us to stay, but more on that later. Now, let’s talk about the outside of the room.

I’m right by a major 4-lane highway, & although the sound of the cars has become like white noise to me, the sirens from the emergency vehicles that speed by every 15-20 minutes or so is quite loud. Since I just mentioned “emergency vehicles,’ we will segue into the emergency vehicles that have been here EVERY SINGLE DAY that I’ve been here. Not exaggerating either…EVERY SINGLE DAY. The first day some guy overdosed by the dumpster, which was/still is, over-flowing with trash. Yep, overdosed right next to it, which resulted in 3 police cruisers, a firetruck, & an ambulance, in no particular order. Don’t know if he died, but the manger told me he overdosed. I didn’t see that incident until after he was in the ambulance & heading away. Next day though, I DID see an incident with my own eyes. Ready for this one? It’s a real doozy of a story.

Okay, so an Indian fellow, a tall Indian fellow with the stereotypical Indian guy perv-stache, was walking around completely naked. No shoes or socks even, as naked as it gets. This dude had a pubic bush that was so big, there might have been some baby birds nesting in there. Quite revolting, right? He was on the phone, just parading around in his skinsuit, his little mushroom tip just barely sticking out of the bush, talking to a party unknown on the phone. The manager called the cops, & I suppose the naked Indian noticed, so he ran back to his room, & put clothes on, some jeans & a pink button up shirt. Very classy. Then, after clothing himself, the moron came back outside, still talking on the phone, just as the cops arrive. The manager, a toothless former methhead named Christy, pointed to him & said, “That’s him, that’s the guy.” The officer told him to get off of his phone so he could ask him some questions, & what does Apu do? He pulls a knife on the police officer that told him to get off the phone, & so, the officer takes his baton, whacks the guy’s hand so he drops the knife, & charges him with a solid open-field front tackle. Very brave of the cop to do, but he did it, as the other cops immediately pulled out their guns. The tackling officer then gets up, backs up, & one of the other cops hit Apu with the taser gun. BZZZZZZZZZZZZ…followed by a scream from Apu, as he writhes around on the ground with 50,000 volts buzzing though his body. Then all of the cops dog pile him as they cuff him up. Apparently, in Colorado, if you get tazed, you go to a hospital, rather than jail, which is standard procedure in a liberal “blue-city” shithole. Nonetheless, that was day two, & you know there’s a hat trick coming next.

Today, I’m not sure what happened, but as I pulled up to Hotel Hell from my daily job hunting quest, there were several cop cars leaving, so maybe it was an unruly guest, as the other guests besides yours truly are the dregs of society, so perhaps yet another overdose. Maybe a streetwalker got herself all smacked up for coming home short. I’m pretty sure some of the guests are hookers & their pimps. There’s a shitload of Mexican construction workers, 5-6 piled high into one-bedroom rooms. There’s a few that clearly just got of jail recently. They have a certain kind of walk, a posture, if you will, from walking in lines in their respective prison garb. Maybe other people don’t notice said posture, but I do, & in conjunction with the jailhouse tattoos, to me it’s obvious that some of the guests here were locked up recently. One had a giant clown face tattooed on the back of his shaved head, so yeah, it’s obvious. Before I digress into some random tangent, I do have mention the parking lot. I already told you about the overflowing eyesore dumpster, which is at the back of the parking lot, & as for the parking lot itself, it has so many holes in it that it looks like a cluster-bomb war happened, similar to Dresden circa 1944. I walk out onto the balcony often to smoke a cig, because one, I don’t want to miss the next “incident,” that goes down, & two, to watch my car so no junkie breaks into it. I have my 12-gauge boomstick locked in the trunk, as well as my safe, which doesn’t have anything in it , even though it does, but that’s my secret. Regardless, I get up & walk outside every hour or so to do a perimeter watch, since I cannot sleep very well due to this elephant-on-my-back anxiety I have from being all on my own now in this life.

Yep, just Milo the cat & yours truly now. No more family, except a cousin, & a handful of friends that I can count on one hand with my thumb & pointer finger still outward facing. My life has done a complete 180 degree turn & then some since these corrupt democratic communists stole the election, then proceeded to destroy this once great country, now termed the USSA, the United Socialist States of America. Believe it or not, this country is now arguably a communist dictatorship, being systematically turned into smoldering rubble. Do you think Potato Joe Biden is the POTUS? I’ll clear that up right now if you do…& the answer is: NO, NO NO NO NO NO he isn’t anything, except a perverted puppet. The real POTUS, the one in the shadows giving the orders, is none other than former POTUS Barack Obama, a CIA plant, who was s-elected to do one thing, proverbially burn this country to the ground, which is happening, right on schedule. Us “regular folks,” can barely put food in the fridge, rents are outrageous, you need two jobs AT LEAST, just to get by. It’s fucking ridiculous. A friend of mine told me it’s because we are in the Kali Yuga, which is the 4th, & worst era for mankind that lasts about ohhhhh…450,000 years or so. It’s an era of destruction, which makes sense, because as I’ve written about ad nauseam, the end goal by 2030 is for 7 billion, BILLION, of us gone. Us “regular folks,” of course, because the so-called “ruling elites,” plan on rebuilding the planet after we are all wiped out, with a one world order agenda. AI is getting exponentially more advanced by the second now, I presume, so it’s just a matter of time before most of us are jobless since AI will be able the jobs that most of us do, even as far as performing life-saving surgeries. It’s going to be like some Mad Maxian dystopian surveillance state nightmare, & most people have no idea.

Fortunately, I do, but what can I do about it? Nothing, nothing at all, & as a writer, I’m fucked. There’s already a button on here that one can press to write whatever they want to write about with the AI assistant. Maybe I should try it out, since we’re on the subject, & see what happens. Ready? Okay, here we go, & be sire to keep in mind that whatever comes next in this article, is the AI, & NOT yours truly. I’ll be right back…enjoy the cock pic…

The Kali Yuga, also known as the Age of Kali, is a concept in Hindu cosmology that refers to the current age or era we are living in. According to Hindu scriptures, the Kali Yuga is the final of the four Yugas (ages) within a cyclic pattern that repeats endlessly.In the Hindu tradition, each Yuga is associated with a different set of qualities, societal norms, and spiritual conditions. The Kali Yuga is considered to be the darkest and most challenging of all the ages. It is characterized by a decline in morality, spiritual awareness, and a rise in materialism and ignorance.According to ancient scriptures such as the Mahabharata and the Vishnu Purana, the Kali Yuga is said to be a time of widespread corruption, conflicts, and moral decay. It is believed that human beings in this age are predominantly driven by selfishness, greed, and harmful desires. Virtues such as honesty, compassion, and integrity are believed to be rare during this era.However, despite these challenges, the concept of the Kali Yuga also offers a glimmer of hope. It is said that in this age, spiritual liberation can be achieved through simple acts of devotion and by surrendering to a higher power. It is believed that even a small amount of spiritual practice or righteous action can have a profound impact in this era of darkness.The concept of the Kali Yuga serves as a reminder to embrace spiritual values and strive for personal growth amidst the challenging circumstances of the current age. It encourages individuals to seek inner transformation and cultivate virtues that can uplift themselves and the world around them.Overall, the concept of the Kali Yuga provides a framework to understand and navigate the complexities of our existence, reminding us that even in the darkest of times, there is always the possibility of spiritual awakening and growth.

You see that? THAT is what the AI can do now, in a matter of 3-4 seconds. Crazy, right? There’s no way a human can keep up, especially when the AI gets more advanced. Writers like yours truly, will become obsolete, & this is just as it relates to writers, now imagine all of the other things the AI can/will do. I don’t know about you, but to me, this is fucking insane, particularly when I know that those so-called “ruling elites,” have a sinister AI-based agenda, as they want to merge with the AI, to become like gods, living much longer than the average human life span, as we all get slaughtered because we will become “less-than,” so to speak, & only get in the way of their new world order plan. 7 BILLION, with a big B, gone, gone by 2030, hence why I always emphasize that if you think things are crazy now, just wait, because the figurative roller-coaster isn’t even at the top of the first drop. Hell, the damn thing hasn’t even started going up the track, compared to what’s coming. Everyone is feeling tremendous social anxiety analogous to getting on the roller coaster, anticipating the ride, but as I said, just sitting there waiting for the safety bar to drop, since the real ride hasn’t even begun yet. Stay seated, & keep your arms & legs inside the carriage dear readers.

When 2024 gets here, & all of these bureaucratic corrupted soulless power-drunk politicians atop the power pyramid wage war on one another to take the reigns, THAT is when the ride begins, & no matter how bad it seems now, it’s only going to get worse, MUCH MUCH MUCH worse. So buckle up dear readers, & until next time, prepare accordingly. So sayeth FisH™🎏

The Fooze: S4E25 4/25/2023 The Mockingbird Sings

ATTENTION: Open this up in full-site mode, get it?…got it?…IN FULL-SITE MODE, because if you view this in phone mode only, one, you miss out on all my widgets, my donation QR code, my upcoming events, all kinds of fun stuff, you miss ALL of that if you are NOT in full-site mode. Two, phone mode fucks up my animations, so they don’t loop at the right moment, & therefore, look like amateur-level crap, which as the artist, aggravates the bejesus outta me if my animations don’t loop like the Universe intended them to loop. I’m very meticulous about my ouroborian loops, meticulous to the point of a single keyframe to ensure the loops loop in proper looping loopishness, so that you never see the infamously dreaded “skip,” when the loop loops. I know, I know, perfection…the gift & the curse of the Creator in me, & even if it doesn’t matter to you, it matters to me, & as said Creator, I like to make sure that you, dear readers, see my art as I intend it to be seen, not how this WordPress site wants you to see it. Thus, before continuing, please make sure to click onto FULL-SITE MODE to view/read this article, as well as all my future articles. Unfortunately, WordPress STILL, for some reason, STILL cannot get the phone-mode to function appropriately properly(double adverb wizard). Hopefully, this fresh-out-the-oven GIF below , that I literally just made to illustrate this paragraph, works like it’s supposed to. 50/50 odds, red or black, what’s it gonna be Wordpuke? Sorry, I meant WordPress…(honk noise)…betting on black.

What to ramble about? Tucker Carlson? Nah, he’s all over the news, & the only thing I wanna say about that, is what are the odds that Don Lemon gets hosed on the same day? Two allegedly “opposing” news stations, two polar opposite ends of the proverbial spectrum, & on the SAME DAY, both get fired? That’s a bit weird, right?…or is it just me perhaps? I don’t know, & like I said at the beginning, I’m not going to go into this theatrical scripted narrative nonsense, & I’ll tell you why. I theorize, emphasis on THEORIZE, that maybe both, yes BOTH of them, work for the same shadowy group that pushes these orchestrated productions onto the public as if it was real news. Obviously, I’m still on the fence about Tucker, but Anderson Cooper worked/works for the CIA, so to presume he’s the only one, is just foolish. Click the link I left for you, and/or deep dive into the CIA connection to the mainstream fake news media. Maybe Operation Mockingbird never stopped? Maybe all of this Matrix-y, artificial zeitgeist rolling, is all via the CIA. If so, come talk to me CIA, so I can expose your corrupted soulless asses to the masses. Name the time, & I’ll be there, with bells on, as the expression goes.

Quite the distraction regardless, is it not? Let’s all click below & see what else might be being reported on by the Gateway Pundit, which incidentally, is only one of a small, & literal, handful, yes I said HANDFUL, of sites that actually offer real journalism…relatively, of course. There’s a ton of ads of their site, which is annoying, & kind of suspect to me, to be honest. Always gotta have the “money factor” involved somehow, don’t we, little mice? I’m not going to detail The Great Mouse Trap again right now though. Sweet baby Jesus knows I’ve illustrated the aforementioned Great Trap countless times here…about as ad nauseam as it gets. You know what to do though, if you still aren’t familiar, you can first, open up my site IN full-site mode, which it’ll already be in, if you’re checking this out on your laptop or desktop, but if you’re on your phone, depending on your phone, you’ll have to click a few things to get to full-site mode. Once you figure it out, then you’ll want to find my archives search query widget on the right side of my site…you’ll have to scroll down a bit, but I left everyone other various animations & widgets to entertain you as you scroll. Once you find it, type in anything, & I literally mean ANYTHING, & something will pop up for you. I have been very meticulous in this 5000ish page opus to make sure that every dive you dive, into the archive of archives, you’ll catch a fresh fish, dead or alive. Okay, I left the link to the Gateway Pundit below, so let’s scroll it together & see what we can find, shall we?

Home 2024

Click HERE or the image above to scroll along with FisH™, in your present real-time, but in my past. Kind of surreal, right? (cue the spooky score) 🍥

Let’s see…oh look, President Braindead Brandon is announcing his run for POTUS in 2024. What an embarrisngly pathetic joke to this country this demented kid-sniffing old pervert sociopath has been, continues to be, & will continue to be in the 2024 POTUS run. Mind-blowing, isn’t it? Obvious dementia & probably Alzheimer’s, worse by the day, still has a year & ½ left, & he has been told by his handlers to announce that he’s going to run for a 2nd term in 2024. Who knows?…everything is backwards & upside-down & inverted here in Clownworld, so maybe he’ll win, like I said, who knows? What if Trump wasn’t there, what if something happened to prevent Trump from flying in on a shimmering winged white horse with golden wings to save the entire world from the globalists he supposedly stands against? What would ½ of America do is their infamous #OrangeManBad was simply removed from the equation?

An event like that would be incredibly demoralizing, not to mention the utter hopelessness, & that’s what happens when you put all your orange eggs, into one orange basket, then expect that ONE orange man to stop all the chaos & destruction that your globalist overlord shadowplayers have orchestrated & executed flawlessly, without consequences, over & over & over & over again, & believe it or not, we’ve yet to see how far they will push beyond the boundaries of rationality. Why would they stop? Why would they hold back? Why wouldn’t they push FURTHER? There’s never any consequences for their malevolence, EVER, so why? The simple answer is that they most certainly will NOT stop, & will keep pushing & pushing & pushing, until they push their agenda through, one way or another.. Doesn’t really matter what I do and/or say, and/or write on & on about, preaching with my hands from my little digital pulpit here, & it doesn’t matter what you do either. There simply are not enough people to stand up & fight these “psychopathic elected elites,” as my friend says, & they play a different game. Their game, is power, simple, & our game, is the endlessly twisting & turning…the left, right, left, right, from birth to death, never looking forward for the exit, just ceaselessly running around The Great Mouse Trap, which you can also find if you deep dive into my archives.

Nonetheless, I left you with several links, & instead of going through the entire list of headlines, I’m going to wrap this up & leave you to DYOR, because I’m not doing all the work for you. What purpose would that serve if I just did all the work for you? Great question, thanks for asking, but I’m not going to answer that one, since you should be sharp enough by now to figure it out. How much SEO writing can I fart into your faces, before you plug your nose & go your own way, know what I mean? That one goes out to all these fucking employers that send me their AI-generated rejection letters, you vapid varmints. Yes, I know how to write in every style, & SEO writing is easy as fuck, but since I do it while simultaneously exposing TRUTH, they’re all scared to hire me. Not to mention, I am insanely shadowbanned, even on here, so maximizing my “search engine results,” doesn’t really work no matter what I do, does it? Nope, not gonna find anything I write at the top of any search query via the interwebs, thanks to the AI & the algorithms they use to keep thought criminals like me quietly tucked away in the digital gulag, where I’ve been for ohhhhhh…7ish years now. Yep, 7 long years in mown solitary cell in the virtual prison. Such a dissident I am, I suppose, right? Derp. B-O-O-H-O-O. No one fucking cares, as is par for my fish-eyed themed mini putt putt course here. No one knows, thus no one cares, & there’s another addition to my upcoming book, The Great Quote Hunt. More on that later. Until next time dear readers, do your own research for you, not for me. So sayeth FisH™…🎣

For all of you, & for none of you at all…🐡

“Do your own research…for you, not for me.” Fish F Fish🎏

“No one knows me, thus no one cares about me.” Fish F Fish🎏

Trains & Complaints

Jesus Christ, what is up with all the incessant whining lately? Sheesh. Everyone blaming everyone for everything. ZERO regard for their own actions, just bitch, bitch, bitch. Now my black ass is complaining about the complaining, but in a justifiable way. One can only sit back & listen to it for so long before GAHHHHHHHHHHH…how about you whiny fuckers SHUT THE FUCK UP? Look inward. What is it YOU do? I’ve never seen such mass self-centeredness in my 40-plus years on this rock that’s flying through space. It’s NEVER your fault, is it? It’s as if projection is a second language these days, isn’t it? The mass mental illness has so many facets, & blaming people for your own actions is a primary feature of this global psychosis. Never YOUR fault, is it?

No, apparently it isn’t, but it’s so far-gone that I don’t know that there’s any coming back. When you let people whine & whine & bitch & moan & blame everyone but their own narcissistic selves without any rebuttal and/or consequences, they just go further & further of the deep end of the pool. Well, as a society, we’ve allowed that, & now look where we are…stuck in Clownworld. Honk honk honk. Who else is OVER the honk honk honking? I know I am, & from this point on, when someone bitches to me about something, they’re going to get the treatment they deserve, which entails me telling them to SHUT THE FUCK UP & TAKE SOME GOD-DAMNED PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR OWN ACTIONS. Yes, YOUR shit stinks too, so maybe wipe YOUR own ass for fuck’s sake.

Anyway, let’s see what’s happening in the news. Geez Louise, I just had to get that out in the previous paragraphs. Sick of it. So moving on, we have these trains derailing apparently, STILL, one big one today in North Dakota & one smaller one in the Mojave Desert now I see. TWO in one day, & if any of you believe the fake news that these are “random,” & not deliberate, you probably wear a mask when you’re alone in your own car. No, these “random” events are not random, they’re attacks, DELIBERATE attacks, by parties unknown. I’d wager some little gang was organized by deep state operatives to commit these crimes. I’m sure they’re getting paid well too, because it seems like every day there’s another train derailing, & today there was TWO, two in one day. Yes, we are being attacked, but will anything be done about it? Nope, & I can assure you this will continue, along with all the other shadowplay going on in the darkness, because no one ever does a fucking thing about it. Just another news article, nothing to see here, now get back to work you filthy peasants.

Click HERE to read more

Click HERE to read more

I’m just gonna leave this article where it is. The whining & complaining & trains derailing is hardly entertaining, it’s just draining. Clownworld drains & sucks the zeitgeist, the zeitgeist that they have hijacked, & the Katamarian snowball is so full of proverbial garbage now. LARPers larping in real-life, crying about every fucking thing they can, as if they seek out things to bitch about. Scripted fake news narratives being broadcast via televised programmed echo chambers that people assume are true & thus, act accordingly. Identity politics, catering to fringe minorities, pushing socialist agendas, just STOP you fuckers. Maybe knock it off already with the fiction becoming non-fiction. It just keeps growing though, getting exponentially worse, & that’s not hyperbole, it’s a fact. When do we hit critical mass? How many of you even know what sociodynamics are? I’d wager maybe 1 out of 100…maybe. The FisH™ abides though, & provided YOU links so YOU can help yourself by learning something new. That’s a perfect real-time example of positive complaining. I complain about YOU not knowing things, but instead of whining about it & blaming you, I offer links, I HELP YOU, I take responsibility, & try to correct YOUR incorrectness, rather than projecting my own rage at your ignorance outward toward you.

It’s as if I’m speaking Mandarin Chinese apparently, because my inclinations fall on wax-filled deafened ears. Anyway, these “random accidents,” these train derailments, these food processing plant fires, expect them to continue & get more prevalent. I bet anyone $100 that one of those two events will be reported in tomorrow’s news. Any takers? Let me know in the comments & when I win the bet, you can just stick that Hundo into my PayPal account link over there on the right side of the page if you’re viewing this in full-site mode, or just click the link I provided above. My site is MUCH more dynamic in full-site mode, & if you’re only reading this on the phone view, you’re missing out on all the widgets that I meticulously added onto this opus of mine. Closing in on 5000 pages; 5000 pages full of information for all of you, & for none of you at all. It’s what I do, for free, because writing is my passion, & if you have a passion that you passionately pursue, despite a taxed paycheck, you understand why I do what I do. There’s so much more to this life than bullshit paper fiat I-O-U money. It’s artificial, a pseudo-currency, & the real currency is what YOU create out of love, not what you get paid to do. Okay, I’m done with this one. Until next time dear readers, look inward before you project outward. So sayeth FisH™…🎣

For all of you, & for none of you at all…🐡

“Look inward, before you project outward.” Fish F Fish🎏

The Fooze: E3 S16 3/16/2023 Trump Won the Video

I wish I could make this up, but this is not satire, & although I know Trump actually DID win, is this really necessary? Seriously, come on now, as if the idiocracy wasn’t bad enough from the other side, the side that’s supposed to be relatively sane does this, & everyone revels in it, as if it’s a new national anthem? It’s corny as fuck, & if she wasn’t a pretty country girl, would anyone take this seriously? Nope, but because she IS a hot country girl, she’s oh so stunning & brave, the MAGA army eats it up…nomnomnomnomnomnomnomnom…honk honk honk. Are we gonna have to hear this song every day from now until 2024?…then beyond that too?

Christian Music Artist Natasha Owens Releases New Single, “Trump Won” – Already Has Nearly One Million Views on Social Media – FBI Perplexed On How to Retaliate (VIDEO)

To the left here, if you’re in “full-site” mode, you can even read an article about this song, but if you want to read something better, go to the comment section in the video I linked above. Funny how the right calls the left a cult, & they certainly are, not arguing that fact, but then when you read those aforementioned comments under the video linked above, does it not reek of cult-like reactions? Donald Trump, the infamous #OrangeManBad, let them beat him; a guy that never loses, let openly corrupt politicians beat him. Why do you think that is?

Ever consider that maybe even Trump is in the Capstone Club? He certainly plays THEIR game, not ours, & their game is power, so why does everyone assume he’s going to charge in on a gilded chariot to save this country? At this rate, will we even make it to 2024? Getting worse by the day, one day closer to World War 3, one day closer to global bank runs, one day closer to not being able to pay your rent or mortgage, one more day of higher inflation with lower wages, one more day they print fiat money for themselves, & you think with all that on the table, oh I can’t forget, one more day with a braindead pseudo-president that has no idea where he is, can’t forget that one, & there’s NUMEROUS things I left out, now where was I? Regardless, with ALL of that going on, we’re also supposedly one day closer to Trump coming back, one day closer to him publicly “taking on the Deep State,” another day closer to turning this train-wreck economy around, oh one day closer to closing the border, almost let that one slip by, ONE DAY CLOSER TO ENDING A DECADES-LONG GLOBALIST AGENDA TO DESTROY THE UNITES STATES OF AMERICA, one day closer essentially to saving the entire world, ONE guy, is that the basket everyone’s breaking their respectively proverbial eggs into? Sounds like an astronomical longshot to me, a exceptionally risky gamble, based on what? Faith? Yikes, good luck with that if that’s what’s in your Easter egg basket. Mine has chocolates in it, but I digress.

Okay then, so be it I guess. I just came across this, & let the hamster run on the wheel for a bit, & thought I’d share my morning jog with you. Queue my radio voice, which I’d record & play live here if I could, but WordPress makes you pay for that feature I think, so sorry not sorry on behalf of WordPress, for being greedy scum, especially to writers who have been here for over a decade for fuck’s sake. Anything WordPress? Anything? Nope? Nope it is, par for the course, nonetheless, still in radio voice mode, The song is “Trump Won,” by the sexiest country pop star since the last one they shit out of the clone machine, the carbon-copied Natasha Owens, who totally never uses auto-tune I’m sure…(fart noise). Still in radio voice mode, but with quotes to amplify the effect, “Until next time dear readers, remember this, cults do not become sides, sides become cults, & one dirty bird still has two wings.” So sayeth FisH™…🎣

For all of you, & for none of you at all…🐡

“Cults do not become sides, sides become cults.” ~Fish F Fish🎏

“One dirty bird still has two wings.” ~Fish F Fish🎏

“Stoicism thrives in a natural world, too bad this world is UN-natural.” ~Fish F Fish🎏

“”Nothing happens to any man that he is not formed by nature to bear.” ~Marcus Aurelius⚔️

The Fooze: S2 E23 2/23/2023 Jellatinous Portal

🍥BONUS VIDEO AT THE END🍥

Hail to Jellatinous Portal. No, not a band name, albeit a crafty one; it’s the literal wordery here, in where my trickerosity lies. Tis’ in the initialization, JP, that’s the initials of, what I believe to be, one of our modern-day, legendary-status living pop culture “icons,” if I may be so bold. I can’t think of anyone else, to be frank, who can hold a candle to this amazingly unique individual. He gives so much, so much to the world, so much to YOU, he’s given much to me. Regardless of that, some people actually want this guy stripped of his credentials, & forced to be “re-educated,” whatever the fuck that means. It’s such a joke, this plasticized world of arrested-development children, in power positions, making rules for those they deem as “beneath them,” & thus, must apparently now be “forced,” to assimilate, or be destroyed. This isn’t hyperbolic, or exaggerated, or fictionalized, in any way, what I’m talking about is very real, unfortunately, & despite the long-game-slow-kill efforts of these elitist pigs, PIGS, just like the book Animal Farm, where the pigs are in charge, well what a coincidence…power-hungry pigs rule this 3d matrix too, according to them anyway, & seemingly according to most of you, who follow these pigs, & abide the dominion of said pigs. Why do you listen to pigs? Why do you pay extortion taxes, to pigs? Why do you let these pigs live in castles, like royalty, while you live in the gutter? Why do we keep letting these ruthlessly sinister porky-pigs, who worship avatars of chaos & destruction, & create chaos & destruction to appease their pseudo-god, why do we keep letting them even be? Imagine a world with no pigs, no pigs at all, minus the ones we eat, because I like eating pigs, with a delightful barbecue sauce, not let them shape my destiny from their high towers.

Who is this JP? Well, if you haven’t put it together yet, I’ll give you a hint…it surely must be that dastardly straight white family man from Canada, the alt-right white supreme pizza, that figurehead of the modern-day neo-Nazi, but where is a safespace? RED ALERT, RED ALERT, REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…honk honk honk honk honk, there’s a REEEEEEEEEEEEE-cist showing up in the article, oh my oh my, whatever will we do? Derp, get back to Starbucks ya rainbow-haired gamma gophers. You hold no place here, now back to your soy lattes, double the soy. See ya. Now that the clown car has taken the express ramp off of a cliff hopefully, who am I talking about already? Don dada donnnnnnn…could it be? Can I be? Would I dare? How dare you Fish, you failed fool, how dare you bring this man’s name up….& here we go. I’m talking about Jordan Peterson, of course(make sure you spell my name right when you report me), YES, The Doctor is in the house, Dr. Jordan Paterson, the spiritual rebirthing of Jung & Nietzsche, combined with your favorite high school biology teacher(shoutout to Mr. Williams if you’re still amongst the living). Yes, DOCTOR Jordan Peterson, & said Doctor, helped me find the way, helped me to find the key to the golden door, when that key was always just dangling from a cheap chain around my neck, like when I was a latchkey kid in the 80s. This key, however, was stuck in a crack, a crack created by a terrible series of traumatic head injuries that weren’t properly treated. Left me a bit…foggy, you could say, for a long time. Sprinkle the purple haze of drug addiction on top of that, & damn if I just never saw that fucking key in the crack. It never left, it never rusted, if anything, it became a stronger key, as the steel propane-flame cured itself in the 4d spiral of time, waiting patiently for me to find it, when the fog had lifted.

Enter Jordan Peterson, at my own middle-age, but nonetheless, enter the keymaster. I have known the key was there, make no mistake, I have always been a writer, have always written, have always been able to go to the well & fill the bucket as needed. It just comes to me, & I don’t know how or why really, even now, but sure enough, I just let myself go, go into the flow, & what do ya know, THIS comes out. THIS, this writing that I’m illustrating for you, in real-time, but is now pastime, if you’re reading this now. My most special journals go back decades, hand-written, old-school journaling, kind of like this, on the daily, but with an actual pen, so it’s different. There’s an organic aspect to physical writing with a pen, & once it’s down on hard paper, the spell has been cast, & the words are now out there, blowing around in a whippety wind-whirlpool in the middle of an empty city block, until it blows into someone’s face. The digital pen involves a whole other dimension of creation to it, particularly if what you write you post on the Internet publicly for a global audience of all & none. The paper blowing in the wind whirlpool can now blow into the faces of potentially millions. Takes much longer for the physical pen, but the payoff, I’d imagine, would be glorious. GLORIOUS. Imagine handwriting a book, literally, then having it published, & it’s content appealing so much to a local audience, that eventually, the world finds it. Wow, what glory. Surely though, there’s a similar glory if ANY of your publishings happen to find reception from millions of eager beavers that can’t wait to see what you write next, right?

I don’t know, nor will I ever know, unless one of these rants that I channel from the big crockpot, making sure I get all the meat & potatoes that one can handle into the bowls of soup I serve from Source, to the slaves, to myself, to all of you, & to none of you at all. My soup is hot, hot out of the gate, because that’s how I serve it up. Who likes cold soup? My soup is so hot in fact, that your big tech overlords have exiled me from the majority of social media platforms, leaving me only this, my only thing I have left, my words. I guess TRUTH doesn’t work so well here in Clownworld. Virtue is verboten, & thought-criminal dissidents like me who know where all the exits are from The Great Mouse Trap, & then kick open the exit doors yelling, “Run free little mice, for you are mice no more, you are men, now run, you are free,” we are not welcome. Oh wait, but they just stand there, the mice just stand & stare, aimlessly eye-balling me, gawking at me like the village leper, like the exiled one, & maybe that’s because I am, for I’m surely exiled, digitally, & now in real-life, the moldy mold on the fetid fruits has spread, as I type from this proverbial jail cell that I’m always in. My own prison within The Great Mouse Trap. Maybe that’s why I know where all the exits are, because I never got through them, & just stay stuck, stuck in The Great Mouse Trap, with all these other menacingly moldy mice, no different, & certainly no better. I don’t know, I don’t know anymore, all I know is the writing, following this little Tinkerbell, & she keeps saying, “Write, write, for your time is running out, so write, like it is,” & she’s right, my time is running out methinks.

Ultimately, everyone’s time is running out, but particularly mine, I wonder if I’m near the end, at this middle-age I’ve reached. My grandfather died at the same age I am, from a heavy heart attack, & I could see that same scenario playing out for me. Just hanging out one day, probably between my paragraphs, as that’s usually when I leave my radio tower, in the gap between paragraphs. Yep, maybe I’m going to the fridge, maybe having a smoke, who knows, but all of a sudden, WHAM, OUCH, fuck my chest hurts, GAHHHH, my arm is numb, then oh fuck, I’m having a heart attack, & then what happens? I fall out, just going unconscious, like going to sleep, but not waking up this time? Damn, that’s a sordid scene. I’d hate for someone to find me unconsciousness and/or dead. Yikes. That’s how grandpa went though, wayyyyyyyyy before my mom decided to let herself get knocked up & have me. I have the traits of my grandfathers, the intelligence, the jovial wit, along with a dangerously addictive nature & reckless self-destruction. Ultimately, the failed fool, & I got all of it, one granddad dying a drunk, the other dying at the same age I am right now. Hmmm, kind of sounds like I’m genetically fucked then, yeah? Oh well, fuck it. I know death, as much as one can “know” death anyway from this 3d vantage point, & I know death is not an ending, so to speak. It’s only the end of this, this end of this 3d life of unwelcome incarceration. Thus, it’s a most-welcomed-ending then in fact, yes?…for those souls sick of being soul-sucked, stuck in this restrictive 3d meat suit, stripped of the memory of my our 5d immortality, our true selves, our Higher Selves.

Anyway, Jordan Peterson has an online writing course that I highly recommend. It’s a “Self-Authoring” course, practically titled, “Self-Authoring,” & involves guess what? Authoring YOU, yourself, writing about you, your life, & what happens when you do this writing course? I equate it to higher math, like anything algebraic & up. Math equations & proofs, designed to stimulate more complex synapses in the brain, well writing tasks have a similar function, in the sense that the more your write, the more you accumulate, the more your brain fires off electricity into fractally branching stems of elevated thought trees. It’s an essential nutrient, to keep your trees bearing their respective fruits, & the genius of the simplicity of this notion?…just write. WRITE, then keep writing. It doesn’t mater what you write, or even if you CAN write like a writer might, just WRITE. If your life has come to a cul-de-sac full of boarded-up crackhouses, figuratively of course, & no one else is around, & it’s only you left in the room, write about it. If all else has failed you, write about it. WRITE, WRITE, WRITE & as a lifelong writer, most surely, I have had periods of nil writing. Such wasted time, those lost pages, because I can only write about those times now from a present-perspective, rather than reflect on any actual real-time writing from the past, oh those many lost pages, so many I never wrote. Now I know my time grows cold, as my toilet has almost flushed itself away, I have to write like the crazy madman, much like I’m writing now in real-time, because the clock ticks away, faster & faster, flush flush flush, flush that toilet of 4d time away into the past. Who left a stinker? Go spray for fuck’s sake, the after-stench is stinking up the whole house ya filthy animal. (Fart Noise)

Sadly for me, he’ll never ever never never read this, as my view stats are around 20 visitors a day, so the odds of Jordan Peterson being one of those 20 readers, is analogous to assuming I just bought a winning Powerball ticket. Nope, never going to happen, as is anything ever going to happen in this horribly fucked-off life I’ll leave behind someday, maybe someday soon, via the unbearable stress of my own existence causing my heart to fail me. Or maybe one of my other organs? Maybe a car crash, like the one I have so many horrible visions of? Perhaps the powers-that-be will take me out? Or I’ll just keep going, towards directions unknown, who knows? I blink my eyes, & I was 5, then blink them again, & now I’m 45, so perhaps I’ll blink them again, & be 85, or blink the same eyes, only to never open them again here in this world tomorrow. You never know, when you’re going to go. Dang, all kinds of fishisms in this article, see the quotes at the bottom. In case you didn’t notice, I’ve been leaving my own quotes at the bottoms of my posts. Dropping rhymes like dimes, you could say. At the end of the year, when my 365-day straight writing project completes its first COMPLETE yearly cycle, If I make it, if I’m still here, I’m going to take all my pages of accumulated quotes, & put them into another book of mine, only this time self-published by yours truly. No more “someone else,” it’s all me from here. Too many parasitic snapdragons out there, don’t need anyone else to make my melody, I’ll do it myself thanks.

The spinning record spins, right round baby like a record going round round right round, & it’s time to go, dear readers. Until next time, don’t be a dope, check out my quotes, not only below, but from before, don’t ya know? Best check my older posts, and/or jump into my archives. Closing in on 5000, 5000 pages for you to pursue dear reader. That was nice of me, wasn’t it? Go ahead & form a line to the left to shake my hand & offer thanks, as I’m as humble as ever towards my audience of faceless ghosts. No one cares, no one ever did, no one ever will, & such is the way for the walk for this Jobian fish. Jordan Peterson helped, but there is no help for me, for I am forsaken. Still, Dr.Peterson’s “Self-Authoring,” program will open up the Pandora’s box inside yourself, letting your true self peek out, like a baby roo in a pouch, except once your true self peeks out, so do all the shadows of said self. The only way to confront those shadows, is to open that box though, setting them free, along with yourself, because that’s how you find yourself, the self that you lost long ago, should you find yourself in a similar position as I. Until next time, dear readers, check out his site, just click the link above, then thank me later should you take the course. & run your own gauntlet. So sayeth FisH™🎣

For all of you, & for none of you at all.🐡

“You never know, when you’re gonna go, go, go.” ~Fish F Fish🎏

“Oh, those lost pages, so many I never wrote.” ~Fish F Fish🎏

“Tend to your fruit-bearing trees, feed them well.” ~Fish F Fish🎏

“Run free little mice, for you are mice no more, you are men, now run, you are free.” ~Fish F Fish🎏

“The key to unlock the door, has always been noosed around your own neck.” ~Fish F Fish🎏

“Don’t venerate pigs.” ~Fish F Fish🎏

“While you think of something to say, I await the end of the conversation.” ~Fish F Fish🎏