That’s right, dear readers, today marks another ending, & a new beginning, as my February Foozers complete the monthly circle, each day of the month, turned from white to blue, day by day, as I’ve successfully posted my daily articles respectively for the month of February, once I post this. That’s going to mark 2 months complete, with 10 to go, as the end goal is to write…WRITE, WRITE, WRITE, every single day in this year of 2023. Once I’m done, then maybe I’ll make “The Fooze” into a series of monthly books, which by then will have essentially illustrated the entire year, as it unfolds, but by then will have unfolded, present become the past, revealing what was under that dress all along. What will be under that dress? What kind of panties is the future wearing? Good question, thanks for playing. I’m thinking she’s wearing her period panties, preparing for a imminently bloody hell-week of sorts, & we’ve yet to see this speculatively incoming bloodbath. Gross analogy kind of, sure, but appropriate nonetheless, as the sanguineous dusk ever-darkens the clouds surrounding the setting sun.
Yes, with all these shadowy revelations revealing themselves, like the fact that WE are the bombers, & our government is secretly bombing pipelines, although it’s NOT a secret really anymore, now is it? Nope, the world isn’t as dumb as this rogue regime running this once great country into the ground, & they know, & WE know, at least ANYONE/EVERYONE with any critical-thinking skills knows, knows that a team of Navy SEAL divers went to the pipeline, put on some deep-water scuba gear, dove down to the pipeline, attached explosives, then blew a giant hole into arguably the MOST IMPORTANT PIPELINE FEEDING MUCH-NEEDED GAS TO WESTERN EUROPE. Yep, it was us, the USA, we destroyed it. Why would the USA do such a stupid thing? Not to mention, it’s a DIRECT ACT OF WAR AGAINST RUSSIA, so again, why do something so dastardly, if not only to incite a global war? Duh, THAT’S THE GOAL. That’s why they did it, for just that reason, to instigate war with the Russian Bear…poke, poke, poke the big bear, for no fucking reason other than to one, hide the crimes of the Biden family crime syndicate, & two, give the military industrial complex a reason to play with their new weapons of war, including direct-energy weapons.
Obviously, I’m not an engineer, not in the traditional sense anyway, because I AM a word-engineer, but that doesn’t technically count, now does it? No, I’m referring to the true engineers, the ones with the advanced degrees in the field of engineering, whatever respective engineering field that may be. It’s mind-blowing how smart they are these days, these genius engineers, & how much of a dumbass retard I am in such topics. Nonetheless, said engineers are engineering amazing things these days, particularly as it relates to an entirely new genre of weapons of war, this genre of directed-energy weapons, so the term, “amazing,” is relative. Oh yes, I’m sure they’re all chomping at that bit to use these new amazing weapons, as I mentioned earlier, hence why they are poking the Russian Bear in real-time. Human collateral damage when these weapons are used…who cares?…deemed irrelevant, irrelevant to THEM anyway, as of course it would be devastating for US, when millions of US get wiped out upon the utilization of these planet-killer level weapons of theirs. It has been almost 80 years since we dropped those bombs on Japan, one of them killing 80,000 innocent civilians in a flash of a second, just POOF, vaporized, leaving only a shadow of where they once stood. It’s so sinister, & WE did it, WE dropped those bombs, ending a war that WE started, WE are the ones causing the global chaos, it’s US. Well, not US us, but this government here, this arguable 4th Reich, still in charge over here.
Wait what was that you just said Fish? Did you say, “4th Reich?” Yes, yes I did, & thanks again for playing. Maybe the Nazi agenda not only never stopped, it evolved, evolving into the post-World War 2 USA of the 1950s, & then into this Clownworld country we all know now(honk noise). Sound crazy? Sure it does, but who cares how it makes you feel, because it’s a FACT. We essentially stole Nazi scientists, all the best, & brought them here to finish their atomic bomb tests, so WE could use the technology, rather than the allegedly now-defeated Nazis, & we did. Then those atomic bomb tests became NASA, the United States space program, eventually putting us into first place in the “space race,” & all thanks to Nazis, yes, NAZIS, how about them apples? Nazi…NASA…Nazi…NASA…Einhorn is Finkle, Finkle is Einhorn, do you think it’s all coincidence? Considering we stole those Nazi scientists, created the atomic bomb with their help, won the war with their help, then eventually went to space with their help, all beginning almost EIGHTY YEARS AGO, one can only speculate how much further their development of their weapons of war has gone nearly a century later. It’s NOT just atomic bombs anymore, oh no no no, that’s old stuff, way-old stuff, & the new stuff is 100 times, 1000 times, could be a million times more devastating than those dated fission bombs we dropped on Hiroshima & then Nagasaki respectively. Contrary to public knowledge, we never actually dropped thermonuclear fusion atomic bombs, the real devastators, nope, just 2 fission bombs, babies comparatively. Not familiar with the difference? Good thing FisH™ is here to help then, right? Click the link in the image caption.
Most people have no idea that the bombs we dropped on those unfortunate cities were the weakest kind of atomic bomb, the fission atomic bombs. FUSION atomic bombs start at 3x-4x more powerful than their fission-driven baby cousins. They did tests after the war with fusion bombs, tests that ended up being EXPONENTIALLY MORE DESTRUCTIVE than their probability charts had predicted. Want to see? Ever heard of Castle Bravo? Click on it to read more, as it’s good to be familiar with, because it’s a great example of how these mad scientists will conduct their science projects with ZERO regard for the results of those projects causing damage to the environment, to people, to animals, nope they don’t care about any of that, it’s just numbers in the data to them. WE are just numbers to them, numbers in the data to these psychopathic maniacs, like a commodity they might trade. The Castle Bravo tests could’ve killed billions; they had no idea how big it was going to be or even what would happen. They just detonated it for the sake of detonating it more-or-less, with unimaginably destructive results, & the damage made me think of the Vedic texts, “Now I am become death, destroyer of worlds,” which was what J. Robert Oppenheimer ominously uttered after seeing his atomic equations explode into real-time upon that initial test of the first atomic bomb. Again, this was almost EIGHTY YEARS AGO, so what kind of destructive capabilities are they sitting on now? The video below shows the Castle Bravo detonation, from 50 miles away mind you, for the sake of scale, & that mushroom cloud, has a 5-mile radius. Do you understand how big that is? Can you grasp how devastating a bomb like this could be, if dropped & detonated over a major city? EIGHTY YEARS AGO ALMOST these tests occurred, so now speculate for yourself, think about where this doomsday technology has advanced to…then enter the directed-energy weapons.
Bob Oppenheimer himself, stating the now-infamous quote, “Now I am become Death, destroyer of worlds,” …o en español, “Ahora me he convertido en la muerte, destructora de mundos.” It sounds better in Spanish, yes? I just mean aurally, like the actual sound of the sentence, as opposed to English, sounds so much better as a language. Nothing to do with the context at all, it simply sounds better in Spanish, but I digress. Look into the eyes of this man, & one can see the abysmal sadness, as he comes to his own self-realization of what his creation can, & will, destroy. A creation that creates ultimate destruction, yikes, I’m glad I do not have anything like that on my conscience like Bob here. That notion is stuck on him forever, FOREVER, & he knows it, as you can see it all over his forlorn face.
Now, almost 80 years later, we have new weapons for global warfare, real bangers too, & there’s a cabalistic group of warhawks drooling to unleash them. Thesedirected-energy weapons, click to read more, can & will change the entire dynamic of modern warfare once used, but regardless, they are scorching their shorts to test them out on the “enemies” anyway. It’s been too long, too long since they’ve tested out their tools of death, & since they cannot directly just openly use them, considering the damage they’d do, they are slowing easing everyone into a new world war, where they CAN drop their new bombs outright. or fire off their directed-energy weapons, or maybe something else we aren’t aware of in the public sphere, it’s terrifying, is it not? There’s a group of people, The Capstone Club, with their dirty finger over that proverbial button, ready to create a hell-on-Earth with the end goal being absolute destruction, so they can rebuild from the ashes their new world order. Sick fucks, but again remember, this is THEIR plan, NOT mine, as I’ve said ad nauseam here, & although THEIR agenda sounds utterly insane, they are moving forward with said agenda anyway. Wunderbar…& on that note, it’s time to wrap this end-of-the-month Foozer, completing another circle, another Ouroborian loopty-loop in The Great Circle, the serpent eating its own tail to completion, birthing its own death, then dying into its own rebirth, my sweet circularity. Until next time, dear readers, be the Creator, a Creator of galaxies, a Creator of solar systems, or perhaps even an entire Universe, not the Destroyer, a destroyer of worlds. So sayeth FisH™🎣.
For all of you, & for none of you at all.🐡
“Be the Creator, not the Destroyer of Worlds.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
Yes, these “narratives,’ as the title implies, these dastardly narratives they use in this now-nefarious nation, are more-often-than-not, completely false & make-believe story-time stories, but STILL pumped out daily via the Fake News Mainstream Media. The FNMM, which is a tough acronym to pronounce….”fin-um,”perhaps, how does that sound? Doesn’t roll off the tongue at all, does it? Hmmm, how about this one…the “narrative agenda pushing actor puppets,” NAPAP?…”nap-ap?” No? Don’t like it? Nah, me either, it sounds dumb. I suppose we must hold off until a proper acronym comes to me; I just have to adjust the dial at some point I’m thinking, & then POOF, it’ll just appear, but I digress. The point of this article is going to be about these narratives, not acronyms for globalist filth, & ironically, there’s yet another one happening as I type this. Yep, another shooting it appears, as if on queue, not that it is on deck ready-to-roll, just implying that the timing if these events is…odd, you could say. Anyway, moving on, & what’s this? 👇🏻BREAKING NEWSBELOW…honk honk honk…👇🏻
Funny how these “shootings” happen all of a sudden when there’s real news that needs to be shared. Like who blew up the Nordstream pipeline? Where’s Jeffrey Epstein’s client list? Shut up you plebs, stop asking questions. Just pay attention to these narratives we script, then subconsciously force-feed to you, go eat another hot pocket, & believe everything we tell you to believe. Oh, & the chemical holocaust in Ohio, almost forgot about that, yeah the one killing animals & now reportedly making people sick. Anything on that, any updates? No? (a nighttime field of chirping crickets chimes in)Shocker. It doesn’t fit the narrative, so squash it. Shhhhhhh. We’re doing #GunsAreBad now, & that’s how it goes. Can’t change it, can’t fight it, can’t stop it, so what’s the only option? Maybe turn off the tv, & end the program, how about that?
The problem with that, is when something really does happen, you hinder your awareness & leave yourself vulnerable by just “turning it all off,” but that’s only IF, & I emphasize “IF,” if Clownworld goes completely sideways. Don’t think it can’t happen; suppose these “Chinese spy balloons” cause an EMP, taking out the power, how long would it take for the ill-informed hordes in the cities to go into full-blown panic mode? No power, no internet, no ability to get money, or gas, or anything really, can you imagine the pandemonium? Oh my God, these UN-prepared people are fucked, especially in the cities. I speculate that it wouldn’t take long at all for the aforementioned “hordes,” to become primal. Assaults, looting, robbery, even murder, all on the table if they go into said “panic mode,” as they let go of whatever critical-thinking skills they might have had, & rely solely on their reptilian-brain. Pure survival instincts would become the norm, as people fight one another for resources, filling the streets with blood.
Are you able to picture a scenario like this? Utterly depressing, all this real-time devolution of humanity. Ultimately, that’s what your elitist overlords want though, everyone to kill each other. They can do it, they could kill you all, & I’m sure there’s numerous depopulation plans in place that are much more effective than whatever the slow-kill poison is that they put into the Covaids jab, but that’s not Plan A. Plan A is to manipulate the masses into fighting & killing each other. One, because they’re sick fucks that get off on misery & death & chaotic destruction, & two, because it keeps them from having to do it themselves & clean up the ensuing after-mess. Not to mention, if we all do end up in some kind of civil war, actually actively battling one another in a hot war, it’s going to be incredibly demoralizing, draining your human spirits, respectively. The aftermath & the survivors would be so war-weary, after so much loss, so much carnage, that they’d eventually submit to the will of these globalist psychopaths, or die.
Essentially, for us plebs, it would be a dystopian hell on Earth, while the elites live like kings & queens with the technology that they keep from us. Oh, & the AI will be there of course, helping them, maybe even guiding them, I don’t know. I think it’s much more advanced then people are aware of, & I’ve mentioned this before, but could it be? Could it be that these psychopaths actually listen to what they AI tells them? Perhaps they follow its commands, so to speak, complying with it as if it were God, or a “god,” it’s hard to say anymore. I know they openly worship Satan, or Lucifer, or both maybe, I’m not sure how that works, but they believe it’s real, & abide their pseudo-god accordingly. Maybe they think AI is Lucifer, that’s a stretch, sure, but who knows? Yes, it’s an avatar of chaos, & destruction, & darkness, all the termed negativities you can drum up in your own respective lexicons, & thats’ what THEY believe in. I know, it’s fucking weird right? Sheesh, what kind of fucked up world is this. with people that “worship” darkness, & are now manipulating AI to empower their avatarian overlord. Again, IT’S THEIR THING, not mine, & not mine in the sense that I believe they’re all abysmally insane, like no coming back. I don’t get it, don’t abide it, & I kind of wish I had no clue about the reality of their belief system, but I do, I do know, & it is what it is.
Oy vey, look at that, another real-time diatribe about the infamous topic of fake news narratives. How dare you, how dare you expose us you silly little fish man. Well, how about go fuck yourselves. I don’t like to hate, per se, but I absolutely hate you fucking elitist doucheflutes. I hate you, I hate your game, I hate your condescendation, I hate that you take power at the expense of human soul energy. It’s SICK, all of it, as sinister as it gets, & you fuckers just keep going, in some futile attempt to rule the world as “gods” under a pseudo-god of shadows, with the help of AI. Derp. Seriously with this? This cannot be true, right? You made this up, didn’t you? Great question, thanks for asking. Unfortunately, no I didn’t make this up, how could someone make up some crazy shit like this? It’s true, YES, it’s true, now let it sink in as the hamster runs his wheel, YES, YES it’s very true dear readers. Don’t blame me, I ain’t doing it. I’m not, nor will I ever, help these maniacal nerds, and/or aid them with their agendas in any way. In fact, I’m going to expose them at ever step, I will be that thorn in their hand until my last breath. Fuck these psychopathic s-elected elites, I’ll never stop, until they stop or we stop them. If we don’t, it’s all over…period, & a day of reckoning gets closer by the passing dusty seconds. So many of you are programmed though, ugh, the hopeful optimist on the shoulder says believe in Divinity, believe in the Universe to right the wrong & bring back balance, or…there’s the pragmatist on the other shoulder, imploring me to buckle up, because these so-called elites, will NEVER relinquish this power they all have, & what’s worse is that if they know their end is nigh, they’ll burn it all down, & try to take us all to hell with them. Mark my words on that notion.
Annnnnnnd, we’re just gonna have to ride out the oncoming storm I guess, as it all collapses, collapses for us, but they made sure they all got on the lifeboats, for them only of course. Yep, as the Titanican ship sinks, down we shall all go with it, while they laugh & drink champagne on their half-filled proverbial life boats. It’s a dark game, & none of US, can ever win. Time to go though dear readers. The ship’s horn blows, BWAWWWWWWWWWWAW. That’s my literary illustration of a ship’s horn loudly bellowing in the nighttime salty ocean air. Ahhhh, sounds & smells like freedom. Until next time, don’t sink, don’t float, crash the waves in your own boat. Corny as fuck but who cares? So sayeth FisH™🎣
For all of you, & for none of you at all…🎏
“Don’t sink, don’t float, crash the waves in your own boat.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
I don’t really watch television, like mainstream televised programming, nope, gave it up years ago. I only really use my tv to watch my Youtube videos on a 42-inch 4k viewing apparatus, or when I play the occasional Hitman mission on my PS4, but other than that, nah. If you’re a regular reader, you’ll know why. Televisions aren’t for your “entertainment,” they’re a medium used to program all of you, hence why it’s called “television programming,” & it’s “broadcast,” all some kind of spooky dark magic it sounds like, right? Well, if you saw any clips from The Grammys last night, you might think twice about disbelieving me on the dark magic notion. I like watching Matt Walsh’s channel. He’s a very thoughtful guy, very smart, & his breakdowns of Clownworld are quite well-illustrated. I’m going to link his 10-minute long video from earlier, detailing this insanity being broadcast on primetime television. My oh my, how the times change, know what I mean? Sheesh. Let’s get to it, make sure your kids aren’t in the room. I don’t have any kids, but if I did, I certainly would NOT want them watching crazy shit like this.
ROLL THE CLIP
I don’t even know who this Sam Smith guy is, or that other guy he performed with. I could care less if Kim Petras thinks HE’S a girl, because HE is not, despite getting his cock lopped off at the age of 16. Nope, I will NOT, nor will I EVER, abide these maniacs with their fucking pronouns. The world is BINARY. Nature is BINARY, existence itself, is BINARY, hot & cold, up & down, left & right, MAN & WOMAN. All this 137 gender non-binary mass mental illness madness is NOT “normal,” it’s insanity, & these so-called “celebrities,” promote & encourage this craziness to their programmed fans, who follow along like lemmings. THIS IS NOT OKAY. Something is NOT right, it’s as if the masses are mass-hypnotized into a state of some unprecedented media-driven psychosis. Seriously, does any of this seem okay to you, does it seem normal, and/or arguably even natural?…because it sure seems to be getting worse. Openly doing “satanic rituals” on LIVE primetime television now are we? I thought the Grammys were about the awards for the best musicians, not this parade of debaucherously dark shit. What the hell is happening in this world? (pun intended) …it’s actually feeling like hell, is it not? No bueno.
Personally, I don’t believe any of this “satanic” shit is real, but apparently, there’s a bunch of dumdums that do. Those pussies can all go find a high cliff, then koom-ba-yah-yah their black nail-polished hands together, as they jump in collective unison towards their respectively perilous deaths. Get the fuck outta here with that dark arts weirdo ritualistic nonsense, Gah, they really annoy me for some reason, I don’t get it, but I must admit, I don’t get ANY of this really, not any of it. Just gets more confusing by the day, & now “satanic rituals at broadcast award shows” are the top headline, so maybe this IS hell. These evil freaks live like kings & queens too, like royalty, while the rest of us seem to be losing, losing more by the minute, just saying. If I was a psychopathic cutthroat scumfuck pervert, maybe I’d be materially “rich” too, maybe that’s why they took everything from me, everything material at least, took it all. Why? What did I do? Why do I lose, when they keep winning? I have such a uniquely well-informed awareness, of the world around me as well as myself. I’m seemingly almost at the top of the zeitgeist mountain, where I finally will get the view from the top, the whole view, the painted canvas in its entirety, to see the real truth, but apparently at the expense of losing everything I had. Lost it all to get here, wherever here is. Is what it is, & I would much rather be here, then there, there among those devil-worshipping foot soldiers for the Great Darkness. Yeah, no thanks, I prefer the Sun, & all its shining light. What is this “Great Darkness” though? Satan? I don’t know, not exactly, but I have a good idea what it is, & have already written about it. I call it, “The Great Recycler,” & if you read via the link below, you’ll see what I am referencing…
Is that what these people worship? The Great Recycler? Is that thing their “Satan?” If it is, WOW, what a bunch of delusional dunces. Worshipping the thing that eats your soul, devouring your memories, then shits you out to get reborn again, only to go through another existence, die, then feed this God-damned creature again. Over & over you go, going “into the light, into the light CarolAnne,” except when you do, The Great Recycler feeds on you. You have to read the post I linked above, or none of this will sound even remotely sane. The more I see this broadcast satanism though, the more I’m thinking The Great Recycler is very real, & it is subconsciously venerated by these weak-minded fools, who think that worshipping “Satan,” particularly via live television, is going to get them to some kind of “special status” when they die. Again, THEIR beliefs, not mine, I don’t believe in any of this malevolent shit. It has to be some kind of mass mental illness, never before seen on this scale.
I do believe however, that when they die, they aren’t going to the same place that those who live by the benevolent principles of the real “Light” go. Attributes like honesty, courage, positivity, these are traits of the Light, the true “Light,” but wait, are there TWO “lights,” so to speak? Yes, there’s a good “light,” & a not-good “light.” It’s tough to speculate on though because one, you won’t know until YOU actually die if there’s ANY “light,” & two, the Great Recycler & its legion “trick” naive souls into “going into the light,” but it’s the false light, the trick that gets you, the ultimate slight of soul. NEWSFLASH: DO NOT GO INTO THE LIGHT. The “light” might feel all warm & fuzzy, ethereally blissful, you could feel like you just want to let yourself go into this “light,” but that’s the trap, the soul-trap. The Great Recycler might even show you your loved ones, or rather, just holographic projections of your friends & family, beckoning you to come into the “light,” to “be,” with them. DON’T DO IT. What’s the rush, what’s the worst that could happen if you wait, & perhaps just don’t do anything? Maybe just observe, be patient, stay mindful, because if this “light” is eternal, so are you, so what’s the harm in just hanging out, outside the “light,” until you can determine your next course of action? “No harm, no foul,” as the saying goes, & if it truly IS your prior-deceased friends & family inside that “light,” they can wait too, right?
I just don’t see the harm in NOT going directly into the “light” when you die. Why would that be a bad move? Worried about your individual “lack of faith?” Ummmm, no that’s false logic. I have faith in patience, & thinking things over before I take action. Why would that be any different in an afterlife where one has a CHOICE, whether to go into the “light,” or not? It wouldn’t, at least it shouldn’t, but I don’t know. Maybe none of that is real, maybe the afterlife isn’t real, maybe none of this matters, who knows? I know this though, there’s a growing legion of beta loser twerps who think Satan is real, & worship this darkest of dark avatars accordingly. It all circles back to my main general theory about what is going on in this quickly floundering mess of a humanity, & that is this; most people, most, NOT all, but most people are in a state of “hypnopsychosis.” There’s a dotted red line under that word. & why?…because it is NOT a real word, not yet, & you heard it HERE first, because I literally just coined it, remember that. This word, “hypnopsychosis,” as defined by me, see below…
Hypnopsychosis: a severe mental disorder in which the sufferer, in a state of hypnosis, having been hypnotized to believe in an UN-reality that does NOT exist, gets confronted by the REAL reality, & drastically declines into a state of severe psychosis in a futile attempt to make sense of “existing” in both worlds at the same time.”
Yes, & if any of you steal my concept & run with it, gaining infamy from the theft of my thoughts, I will not be pleased. Fair warning, not that I’m concerned about it. If my theory proves true, future psychologists might come across this & remember me as a psychological prophet, in some Jungian sense perhaps…or by then, in some Petersonian sense. A relatively entire planetary population, in varying states of “hypnopsychosis,” in this error of an era extraña. Unprecedented in scale, with an equitably unprecedented level of societal damage as a result of this worldwide mental disorder. Can you imagine, a whole world, hypnotized into a state of mass psychosis via the mass media programming, can you imagine? I certainly can, because I’m living it, in real-time, just like the rest of you. As always though, my circularity has found me once again, so it’s time to wrap up this daily Foozer. The beginning become the end, only to begin all over again. Until next time, stop, look around, & then honestly ask yourself, “does any of this seem organic to you?” So sayeth FisH™🎣
For all of you, & for none of you at all
“The organic macroorganism, spawning UN-organic microorganisms, as if “forced,” ferried into the false birth of a feral fetus.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
“I am the GOAT, there are no other goats before me,” says Fish (audience applauds). In case you didn’t know, “GOAT” is an acronym for “Greatest of All Time,” & I’m just joking, as I am no GOAT, & am but a meager fish, an acronym-less fish, in fact. What could “fish” stand for? Maybe…”Fallen into Satan’s Hell,” would that work? Or perhaps, “Flo isn’t Saying Hello?” No? How about, “Fucking Insane, Seek Help?” I don’t know, those all just don’t work like the grand GOAT, the Great One, the Great-EST One to be exact, & how does One, become a Great One, the Greatest One of All Time? Beats me, I’m proverbial pond scum, the only thing I’m the greatest at is nothing, & you don’t even get a participation trophy for that oh-so-high pseudo-achievement I’ve successfully accomplished. See what I did there? “SUCCESS” -fully, as in NOT a success at all. Ah, personal deprecation, my only actual success. There’s most certainly nothing great about a life of self-disappointment. (Fart Noise) …moving on…
It must be a surreal feeling, at least in my imagination it is, but those who don that exceptionally rare moniker of “The GOAT,” already live a life of surreality, so to them, it’s just another day of feeling great, being great, because you’re so great, look at you, what a great guy, greatest of all time. Of “all time,” you say? Yep, ALL time, YOU, are the GREATEST, of ALL time. Well dang, ok then, thanks for the compliment, & all that comes along with my greatnesses. Everyone is going to give me everything from now on, too? That’s so GREAT. Are you eating here tonight sir, oh great one, will you be dining with us? Of course, the bill is on us, we’re simply honored you’d bestow your unending greatness upon our humble eatery, so do not concern yourself with the check. Really? Ok then, I’ll give the server a life-changing tip, how about that? Sound good? Wow, YOU sir, YOU are just great, what a great guy, greatest of all time. Oh drats, I spilled some of my $10000 free bottle of wine on one of my favorite shirts, this shirt woven with real gold in the collar, so my neck glows. This shirt was given to me by God himself, whatever will I do?
Oh look, there’s an unbelievably exaggerated store across the street, with a great big name on the sign, same great name platinum-stitched on the clothes available there, a name that makes them 10000x their actual value, the price on the price tag, but that doesn’t matter Great One. Let’s GO GO GO…beepity-bopity-beepity-bopbop, I bee-bop to the store, & proclaim, “I’ve ruined my shirt, can someone help me please?” (sounds of people scurrying about like rats to help) …oh NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, we can fix this your greatness, oh Great One, no worries, how about this shirt? Or this one? Need new pants too? Let’s get you some fresh pants(more scurrying about)…there you go oh Great One, all spiffy & new, fresh clothes for you. Oh look, your helicopter has arrived to pick you up oh Great One, the Greatest of All Time, you Great GOAT(sound of helicopter landing)…& WOW, what a chopper she is, is that, could that be, a GOLDEN HELICOPTER?? Sure is, only the best for the GOAT, time to take off, let’s GO GO GO(people scurry their peasant asses out of your way)…& off you go, oh Great One.
Okay okay, I know, I know, I knnnnnnnnnowwwwwwwwww, that was rude, & crude, & I shouldn’t poke jealous fun at GOATs. It’s great to be great, did I just quote that? Surely, SOMEONE has thought that little quip up before, yes? “It’s great to be great,” hmmm, yeah I don’t know, & out of my own ignorance, I am going to enact my own utterly delusional self-sense of “greatness,” & pronounce myself the creator of that quote, how bout them apples? Who’s gonna stop me, the word police? I’m already wayyyyyyyy down at the end of D-wing in the digital gulag supermax, where all other thought criminals go, in my own solitary cell, with a little fish carved into a virtual wall. This is where those who are the “great” in their own right go, & of course in this case, I mean “great” as in “greatly” censored, “greatly” suppressed, “greatly” robbed of my created content, “greatly” exiled from the virtual town square, & I could go on & on, shedding my own skin, greatly, but fuck it, who cares? Who cares that our free speech has been systematically eroded to almost being null & void? Oh no, someone’s feewings got hurt due to “hate speech?” NOOOOOOOO…REEEEEEEEE…HONK HONK HONK…can’t have that, can we? B-O-O-H-O-O
Where are the real GOATs, the keepers of freedom, & truth, & the freedom to speak the truth, where are those GOATs? I’m yet to see anyone from this era estraña that could be considered a true GOAT, not even close really. Think about it…ALL TIME. Sure, there might be some people who have greatness, & they exude that greatness, but the “Greatest of All Time?”….meh, no, not in Clownworld, sorry not sorry, don’t blame me, blame the clowns, & their respective clown cars. They crashed the party, I wasn’t there, nope, & hell, I wasn’t even invited to the party, & surely have nothing to do with clowns, parties, GOATs, none of it. Just a wayward soul traveler that stumbled into this 3d clown town like a Twilight Zone episode, stopping at a one-waitered cafe I can never leave. Coffee, toast, a pen, some scraps of paper, & I’m stuck here until I write my way out, write my way right out of town. I don’t know, I don’t know if anyone was in this booth, at this cafe, in this town, before me, beef whore me, what has come before me? Could it be my circularity? Coming back around again to find me?
Look at that, right on time(class bell rings). Time to GO GO GO, now that the circle has come back around once again, round & round, looping loops, the GIF animation of days flying by, the circularity. Until next time, dear readers, remember this, “goats will eat anything, anything & everything.” Oh, & of course, coined right here in this article, “It’s great, to be great.” So sayeth FisH™🎏
For all of you, & for none of you at all.
“It’s great, to be great.” ~Fish F Fish🎏 “
“Goats will eat anything, anything & everything.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
MOTHERFUCKER…GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…damnit…I had an ENTIRE article ready, & then had some random internet issue, & this silly site did NOT save my draft. Fucking fuck motherfucker, it was a good 3 pages long too, fuck, sorry dear readers, it is what it is. My last Fooze of the month too, there were red pills & such too, fuck you WordPress. I manually save, AND auto-save, yet it saves NONE of it? Come on now, internet or not, it should have saved my draft. Now I’m writing a totally different Fooze for the day, minus all my well-worded wordery from the previous draft, thanks a lot you fucking fucks. Ok, I’m done with the fuckaboutness, so let’s knock this out & complete our premier monthly circle, now eerily resembling a monthly period, with all my bitching about the lost draft. Cycles, circles, these circularities, these infinite loops, if you will, you know how we roll here by now, if you’re a regular reader of my ranting ramblings, of course. If not, welcome, welcome to my fishbowl.
Where is my serpent, here to eat its own tail for the last time in January, 2023, as this month ends forever, & we begin again with February tomorrow, where is she? Oh, right there she is…duh. She’s here to eat, eat her own tail, so she can began again, whether it be my next article, or tomorrow’s article, the circularity always completes herself. I need to make a GIF with an ouroborian theme, like some kind of serpent, eating itself, forever & ever, via the infinite loop, the nature of a GIF, BUT…with no skip. “No skips in your GIFs,” I think maybe Confucius said that, or Jesus mentioned it while he was up on that Roman cross, I can’t recall. I abide that notion though, to the fullest, & make sure my GIFs don’t skip. It’s very fast, only a few frames, but as a master GIF-maker, I can see it if it’s there, & will NOT abide a skippy GIF. When you create out of passion, TRULY create your art from passion, you are no longer an artist, you’re a magician. If a magician doesn’t perfect his magic, his magic tricks won’t work, thus, said “magician” is merely a fraud, & the TRUE passion was never there. One MUST be a perfectionist with their passion, one MUST be a magician, or the trickery is lost, along with the novelty, & you might wanna go apply at Starbucks, because you are no artist, & certainly NOT a magician. Deal with it, not my fault, I have nothing to do with YOU, or YOUR life, I am just an illustrator of this clown culture. Unfortunately however, any sort of culture, here in the once great USSA, has gone the way of the passenger pigeon. How the fuck did “passenger pigeons” go extinct, incidentally? They used to use them all the time to send letters to other people, hence the name, “passenger pigeon,” but somehow, they ALL died off? Entirely? What the heck? That’s kind of weird, right? I don’t know, check it for yourselves. I’ll link an article below about it, for your own reading pleasure.
Ok, since this is the SECOND time I wrote a Fooze today, but WordPress fucked up saving the original draft, I’m gonna wrap this little gem up. On the bright side, we all learned why passenger pigeons are no longer amongst the living. An entire species, wiped out, relatively quickly too. Life can change so fast sometimes, as things come, & things go, beginnings become endings, then endings turn back into beginnings, & on & on it goes, the infinite loop, & there she is, as if on cue, my sweet circularity. My serpent has found its own tail once again, in this final Fooze for January 2023. Round & round, as a new circle begins tomorrow, the February circle, denoted as “S2,” which you can see at the top of the post up there. I use the “S” for the month, & an “E” for the day, just to keep everything tidy & regimented, so to speak. Structure is good, but not over-structuring, this ain’t the fucking Marines for fuck’s sake, but I have to keep a strong self-discipline maintained, so as to make sure I write something, every day, every single day. The loop doesn’t stop, so why should I? …& time is spiraling fast into the future, like a flushing toilet, the flushing toilet of time, that I’ve mentioned ad nauseam here. Yes, time, 4d time, the temporal dimension that pulls us all “forward,” forward into an unprecedented & uncharted future.
As said “time,” marches on, what will come, what will the future reveal, as she slowly hikes up her skirt, what will we experience? Impossible to speculate, we just gotta ride out the storm, & try not to sink our own respective ships, at least that’s how my journey is going, how about yours? Billions of ships, billions of sailors on those ships, sailing toward the sun I suppose, I don’t know. I don’t know anything, I’m just an illustrator, illustrating this Clownworld we’re all apparently stuck in, one honk-honk day at a time. What else can one do when there’s no future for you? Until next time dear readers, until tomorrow, when the new circle begins.
Thanks for reading/watching the articles I post, here in my opus of sorts, these 4000ish pages of this, whatever this is. I am just going to keep doing this, every day, until the Great Circle is complete, for all of you & for none of you at all.
That’s right, dear readers, only 4 more days until we hit EVERY day in January, thus completing the first monthly circularity. 11 MORE months however, to complete the Great Circle, that’s right, 365 straight days of writing & creating new animations, hopefully adding up to a few thousand more pages in my opus of drivel here, here for all of you, & for none of you.
Thanks for all the views & such…more to come, MUCH more. Be sure to FOLLOW ME, & get notified when I post fresh fish.🎏
Everyone has a past, so let’s go back in time. Ever been to the nuthouse? Ever even been asked that question? Not a question many people throw out at the beginning of a convo, but clearly I ain’t most people, & I think it’s a fun question, particularly when the person you ask says,”Why yes, yes actually I HAVE been to the nuthouse, how about you?” …& then an interesting back-&-forth ensues as the 2 of you swap stories about your visit/s to the psych ward. Personally, I’ve only been once, for 3 days, & it was some kind of hustle by the doctors to get money from my insurance company. I was having some random chest pains, most likely just from anxiety, & when I went to get checked out, the doctor asked me questions like, “Do you ever feel like hurting yourself and/or others?” …& me, as a scholar of words & verbalizations, grossly overthought the question & answered with, “well sure, doesn’t everybody THINK about it?” Obviously, I didn’t say I WOULD hurt myself and/or others, I just had said I had thought about it, among all the other things I think about. Just thoughts, how HASN’T everyone thought of such things at some point? I thought it was just a psychological question to determine my mental status at the time, & I suppose it kind of was, but I had no idea that by answering the way I did, the doctors would use my answer to justify sending me on a 72-hour trip to the mental hospital. Yep, they determined I was “an immediate risk to myself and others,” & thus, needed to be locked up in crazy town for 3 days…& so I was…
Upon arriving, I was basically in a state of mental shock as to what was actually happening. I’ve never been to such a place, so there was that kind of foggy anxiousness, but also the fact of where I was actually at, a place for crazy people, it was a feeling of…I don’t know, maybe confusion, whatever uncomfortableness comes with your first visit to a mental health facility. Thoughts like, “Am I really crazy?” or, “Am I really a ‘threat’ to society?” …such thoughts, & I suppose that’s a common feeling amongst sane people who accidentally end up in place like this. For people who ARE actually insane though, I’m guessing there’s different inclinations upon their arrival to the nuthouse, as most likely it isn’t their first time, & maybe it’s relieving for them, being back in a place where “professionals” will help you get better, so to speak. Again, I’m not mental like that, so I can’t speculate with 100% accuracy how other people self-evaluate their respective trip/s to a place like this, sane or otherwise, but this was my adventure. What an adventure it turned into too, wowzers. For what it’s worth, I got some interesting stories out of my 3-day vacation to the funny farm, so I’ll just start at the arrival, then go from there.
When you first get there, you speak to the insurance guy, so the state gets their money out of this whole scheme. Isn’t that bizarre? Obviously for me, it wasn’t that bad, since I was “sane’ enough & lucid enough to handle paperwork & questionnaires & such before lockdown, but if I WAS in fact, totally nutzo, that process would surely not go as smoothly as it did for me, right? For instance, they asked me why I was there, & I said, “I don’t know, I guess they determined I was a threat because of the way I answered the question about me having suicidal/homicidal thoughts from an existential perspective.” Now if I was a betting man, & I am, I would bet that most people who end up in such places do NOT answer that question from a philosophical point-of-view. It’s often recorded as going something like this: The assessor asks,”Why are you here?’ & the patient replies, “Because I’m a werewolf.” …something along those lines, know what I mean? That’s actually a reference to a true story. My friend Dave took a trip to a similar place, & ended up having a roommate who in fact, thought he was a werewolf, to the point where the alleged werewolf woke Dave up in the middle of the night howling. Now THAT is quite nuthousian, yes? Of course, I did NOT answer in such a manner, & despite my obvious NON-violent demeanor & relative sanity, they still processed me, & so, my 3-day “vacation” from real-time & real-life began.
You gotta give your clothes, your shoes, your phone, your wallet, everything you have on you must be surrendered before they admit you, & will now be in a bag in storage until you leave. In its place, you get either a suicide smock, which is basically a gown you can’t tear so you won’t hang yourself or choke yourself with pieces of your clothes, or just something akin to a nurse’s scrubs, only cheaper & less functional. Oh & you get sandals, because your shoes, you can’t bring those. Shoelaces are dangerous for the crazies, & shoes in general I guess, because they took my shoes in their entirety, not just the laces. Like I said, EVERYTHING goes, & you just get the smock or scrubs, & the slippers, for your entire stay. I kept thinking of the dichotomy of wearing a “robe” of sorts & slippers, ideal when you’re in a 5-star resort in The Maldives, but the polar opposite when you’re stuck in the mental hospital. Unfortunately for me, it was the latter, & once I had changed & finished the all-important paperwork for the state, I was escorted by the arm to the “secured” part of the hospital.
Just like jail, they lock you in, & you are restricted to where you can & cannot go once you’re locked in. On the way to my wing, I got my first glimpse of some of the other patients. Many, upon simple observation, were clearly not mentally well. I saw tickers, the people that twitch & can’t stay still; I saw self-talkers, true “self-talkers” though, in the sense that they have audible 2-way conversations with themselves, all day every day. Usually those conversations are interesting to eavesdrop on, particularly because the convos they have with themselves are often totally non-linear, nonsensical yet understood in its entirety by both parties, even though it’s only one person talking, to themselves. There were quite a few of those, & mixed in to that group were the yellers. The yellers are annoying, mainly because they do actually yell, loudly, VERY loudly, startlingly loud, but it’s very random, so you never know when you’re gonna be jump-scared by that unique kind of screamy yelling that only crazy people do.
There was also the quiet ones, those quietly crazy ones. There’s just something in their eyes, even though they don’t talk much, sometimes never, but if you look at their eyes, there’s like a vacancy, like they aren’t totally present in the moment, stuck in some backrooms in their respective heads that they cannot escape maybe? I wouldn’t know, I could only speculate, could only use my own thoughts to try & rationally grasp this whole event, why I was even there, why I was there with people like this. I quickly realized that I was in a One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest sort of situation, as in I was quite possibly the ONLY clinically “sane” person in that place, yet still I was there, in there with these nutters, just like Murphy, a socially-awkward misfit, misunderstood by the general population, to the point where he was deemed a “threat” & thus, locked away from that aforementioned general population. Fortunately, for me, there was no large Native American fellow there to send me to my Maker.
First day, mostly just stuck in the good old “shock & awe” of where I had somehow gotten myself. It’s similar to jail, but nicer, nicer in the sense that the food actually wasn’t that bad, we got smoke breaks with generic cigs paid for by the state, it was warm in there, it was co-ed, we got to watch movies, & there was more room to move around freely. It was a scheduled routine, meds time was always the best time, when everyone lines up to get their variously respective medicines. They just gave me stuff to sleep & relax, which really did neither. I didn’t sleep more than an hour at a time the whole time I was there. Just couldn’t sleep, what can I say, so I stayed up all night & talked to the employees while the other crazies were in sleepytown. They had no idea why I was there, other than that I was yet another victim of this state-sponsored mental health progressive nonsense, which I explained to them, & only strengthened my “why the fuck am I here?’ argument. They use ANY pretext they can to justify sending people to these places so that they can get more money from the state, has nothing to really do with actual mental health issues. It’s kinda shocking actually, the depth of the corruption, but ultimately it’s is just another facet of the Titanic-like sinking of this country. It was never about “the people,” it was always about the corruption, which got them the money, which got them the power…sinister, isn’t it? …but as usual, I digress.
I met some of the other residents of this facility on that first day. My roommates of course, & we were 4 to a room in there. I mentioned it was co-ed, but obviously the sleeping arrangements were separated, because we wouldn’t want these whackadoos to be fucking, now would we? You might not think people couldn’t find love in such a place, but apparently 2 of them amazingly pulled it off. The dude was a tall, but very skinny, lazy-eyed fella, big lazy eye. I mean that one eye was lookin east while the other was stuck in the Wild West, impossible to maintain direct visual contact, but he was a naively nice guy, kinda what you expect when you see his distorted face, if you know what I mean? His new girlfriend was some kind of Native American I think, she had that look, that look of aged alcoholism & the miscreant mother of grownup yet fucked-up kids, yet kind of Eskimoish in the face, if that makes sense. She had many noticeable long girl-beard hairs, so very long they were, & pointing in different directions with hues of black & gray salt-&-peppered about. I don’t know why, but her beard kept distracting me by its own mere presence. She was definitely not a man, never was a man, but had that salt-of-the-earth that some girls of diverse nature seem to have, & simply never plucked and/or shaved the hairs on her face, which were now very easily seen by anyone who got within 10 feet of her. They were joined at the hip tho, those two sordid sods, & they seemed like they were in a happy little union, albeit both locked in the psych ward. The employees had to keep reminding them to stop holding hands & making out & such, which I happily obliged since they sight of those two making moves on each other was kind of horrifying. Nonetheless, there were the fledgling lovers in there, but everyone likes to hear about crazy stuff, so maybe I’ll talk about The Pisser.
The Pisser arrived after me, but later on in the night. People come & go, as their times start & end respectively, & you never know who might show up, so they brought this new guy in. First thing I noticed when I initially saw this guy, was his YUGE bush, & yes I mean his pubes…let me explain. I came out of my room & the guy was standing against the wall, in some scrubs, avoiding the dreadedly embarrassing suicide smock of shame. However, his hands were in the front of the scrub pants, weighing them down so his entire mountain of pubes was blowing openly in the breeze, along with the top of his penial shaft, & was in a Windex-clear view of everyone who accidentally happened to have functioning eyes. ZERO shame, nothing like that, I don’t even think he knew what he was doing, & why do I say that? Well, he was standing in his own piss, once I got close enough to smell it, then detect the origin of said smell, a big puddle of piss, & he was standing right in the middle of it, hands down the pants, pubes in view, but believe it or not, THIS was not the craziest part yet. The real cray-cray part, was what he was saying as he stood there, barefoot(I forgot to mention he apparently had decided to go sandal-free), but yes barefoot, standing in his own piss, & he was saying things.
Once I was close enough, to blatantly see/smell the piss & hear his actual words, I realized what he was saying…well somewhat. I could surely understand the words he was using, but the order of said words & the context was something out of an Exorcist movie maybe. He was reciting, what sounded like, random verses from the Satanic Bible. I’ve never actually read the real-life Satanic Bible, so I can only presume it sounded similar. I think you can use your imagination to paint this picture, because there’s no way I can recall what exactly he was saying, only that one, he was impressively eloquent, like he didn’t miss a beat, every word was perfect, almost like he was just reciting what he was hearing, possibly from some hellbound demon, how would I know?…& two, he didn’t stop, he just kept going, & going, & going, I’m not even sure he slept either, because I was up the entire time & so was he, unless he disappeared for a minute, but then he’d always come back, always the same spot, always those Kilamanjarian pubes, always in his own piss(they just stopped cleaning it up because he’d just piss again), & always lost in his own eyes while reciting these dark arts voodoo soliloquies. Right at the end of that first day there, we were waiting on our meds, & The Pisser was literally right next to me in line, but he had stopped talking out loud, maybe because of all the people, I don’t really know, but out of nowhere, he puts his arm around me, looks me right in the eye, & said, “We are…here.” I said, “We sure are, big guy,” not breaking eye contact, not flinching, certainly not panicking, despite an instantaneous adrenaline surge. It was firm sidearm side-hug, not to mention he was a rather big guy, easily 6’1, 6’2, kind of stocky, much bigger than my skinny little ass anyway, so when he scooped he into his arm basically, I would be a Bidenesque-level liar if I said I wasn’t afraid for my life, even if only briefly. That fear fled quickly though because he let me go rather hastily, as if he knew he was a gentle giant, & that his size & strength might make others feel uneasy, he seemed to know, despite his mental disorder. It ended up being sad, quite sad, & he was sad inside, very sad, so I felt bad for that guy, The Pisser, & that Bride of Frankenstein hairdo atop his shling-shlong.
That was day one, & day two consisted of a lot of walking, for me anyway, & countless push-ups. Up & down, up & down that piss-stanking hallway. We could only go out of rooms, & either into the hallway, or into the dayroom with the television. Obviously, many opted for the TV time. We only got to pick from a pre-selected selection of movies, & then we had to request to watch them, so no one gets their feelings hurt if they want to watch something else. First night, I skipped tv time, but 2nd day, I watched movies between my walking & push-ups. First movie was that movie Drumline, a film about black students at a black college in a black marching band. My absolute favorite genre. There’s a reason I’m repeating the word “black” so much…hang tight, it’s coming. The movie starts, I get my little spot on the edge of the couch, & altogether there’s maybe 20 of us in there, so we’re all kinda close, the bearded girl & her new boyfriend were really close, subtly holding hands just out of view of the staff. Adorable. Anyway, movie starts, we get into it, even me, what else was I gonna do?…wasn’t a bad movie really, once my disbelief was suspended, even had that same early-2000s vibe that movies like American Pie & Road Trip had, which now I suppose is nostalgic. Nonetheless, we all get into the movie, & about 20 minutes into it, I notice this trailer-park-looking white girl, about 4-5 months pregnant, sitting next to a little black guy(make a note), & she’s making a few comments, in an unbelievably exaggerated uber-wigger accent. If you don’t know what a wigger is, look it up on Urban Dictionary, but she was using that pseudo-dialect, only really laying it on extra-extra-thick, even dropping N-bombs, lots of them, more-so than actual black people drop them, WITH A BLACK GUY NEXT TO HER (told you to make a note).
She was completely oblivious though, & as the movie continued, I realized I was not only watching the movie, I was simultaneously listening to her, just mesmerized by how much she had embraced the black culture with her atrociously amplified accent. It wasn’t just the accent, it was the content as well, such incredible content. I caught something about how, & I’m just gonna loosely paraphrase her here(so roll with me as best you can), but how she, in her own blackanese, would “hood up like a dude, & rob niggas,” & so she’d pretend she was a thug, a male thug mind you, “cuz niggas is dumb yo, & I’m fresh,”& do “gang shit,” i.e. “rob niggas.” All of this, done under the guise that she “repuzzent dat hood hard,” & thus successfully changed her appearance, to look like a man, a MALE gang member, & everyone assumed she was, in fact, said hardcore MALE gang member, because she was so clever of course, & tricked them successfully, of course. She was “true-thug,” & she “owned her hood,” on & on this went on, & now that I’m thinking about it, retrospectively, that was MUCH more entertaining then Drumline. I did mention she was 4-5 months pregnant, right?
Yes, I did mention it, & me, being me, had to inquire with this girl about her preggo jive-talking self. I HAD QUESTIONS, that’s all I’m saying, & I had a feeling she only went full-ratchet like that as needed. Thus, I ended up bullshitting with her for a minute, face to face, & as if on cue, when she talked to a white guy like me, that accent seemed to be much less expressive, you could say. Turns out she started out as a redneck, born in bumfuck Kentucky, & came from a tragically broken & fucked-up home, poor girl. Quick summary as to what she revealed to me: She was abused & molested by multiple family members from as far back as she can recall, in every way, just a very traumatic childhood, to say the least. She was 19, but looked 30. This was her 2nd kid, but the 1st kid was stillborn, so assuming the kid she had in her belly at the time I met her in the nuthouse lived through the pregnancy, she now has a living kid to call her own. Her baby daddy this round was some much-older black guy, I think she said he was 52, 53, one of those, a guy named “D,” or maybe “Dee?” I never caught the proper spelling, but this D guy is/was a high-ranking, old school gang member I guess, according to her, I don’t know, she was definitely pregnant, but the rest of it was almost like a cry for help in a way. So much LARPing, but she LARPs to escape her terrible childhood, & it’s all so fucked up. It was just…it was just sad, all of it, sad as it gets. Child abuse is cancer, & it has infected the societal body. It spreads. Sad reflections of a dwindling humanity. I was mostly just listening in amazement, not really encouraging her, just listening, & now you are listening to me, so it looks like I got a little story to share with all of you out of it. How bout dat?…shhhhoooooooo, short-tay was thuggy G, knocked up by D, may-BE, we don’t know, do WE?…see what I did there?…my shitty rhymes?…I’m gang-sta, SEE?…woot woot…derp.
Day 3 was here at last, the final day of my 72-hour stint in this crazy place, literally crazy place. I had seen a lot, some girl intentionally throwing up her meds because she didn’t wanna take them, so she got a shot in the ass to “calm her down,” which it promptly did, & she was out for a solid 8 hours, which ultimately was probably better for her. I don’t know what she did, but she had the look of one of those whacked mothers that kills one or all of her own kids. There’s just something missing in the eyes, like a neon sign at a shitty motel with a few letters that don’t light up, so it reads, “VAC N Y,” instead of “VACANCY.” Make up your own analogy if you don’t fancy that one, but you get what I mean. Speaking of which, I must mention the Meth Mom, who ironically, arrived on day 3. Couldn’t get outta there without one more weird encounter, could I? Of course not, & so I had a run-in with said Meth Mom. This sordid single mother was an absolute meth, I mean “mess,” did I say meth? Oops. Anyway, yes, she was such a MESS, & as the title I adorned her with graciously implies, she was a mess, from meth, a messy meth mother, of 3, THREE KIDS she had, she mentioned at some point, which will really blow your mind once you read the upcoming revelation.
Here’s the revelation; she had smoked so much meth, that she didn’t know who was a real person & who wasn’t actually there, so she would touch everyone. Yes, physically touch people, she would touch everyone, EVERYONE, & anyone, more than once too, it wasn’t like she would touch you, realize you’re real, & remember you are indeed real, so she wouldn’t touch you again, oh no, she’d have to touch you multiple times. It was like OCD-touching, to make sure things were real, yes things too, not just people, so all day, she’s just touching everything & everyone, saying weird methy things. For her, it was all she could make sense of anymore. Her brain was Swiss cheese. She genuinely was scared, petrified even, that people she interacted with were not real people, I could see it, I could see her fear, & I honestly felt bad for her, because that would…honestly suck. Can you imagine, smoking so much methamphetamine, to the point that you cannot distinguish reality from methworld, can you imagine that? Touching people, touching things, to make sure they’re even there, yikes, but that was her deal, & why she was there, again. Yes, the staff knew her very well it seemed, & also were quite aware of her need to touch everything, so instead of yelling at her every time, they’d wait until it became too overwhelming to whoever or whatever she was touching before they’d do anything about it. All fucking day, day 3, my last day, I had to keep my eye out for Meth Mom, because I made the mistake of being nice to her before I knew why she was there, & thus, she kept wanting to talk to me specifically, & touch me, over & over, to make sure she was talking to a real person. Don’t misunderstand, it wasn’t like weird groping, she would just touch your arm real quick, then whisper “ok” to herself, but loud enough where you could hear her whisper. Then, a few minutes later, she’d do it again. In between, she’d ramble about all the meth she smoked, & the shadow aliens watching her & following her, & her fucked-up kids, & she’d forget about what she’d say, so she’d repeat herself. It was all on a big loop, as are so many things, even this article you’re reading, as I’m about to wrap it up in the next paragraph or 3, when I detail my exit from the mental hospital, & complete the circle, fulfilling my circularity for this daily Foozer, as my own loop circles back around on itself.
What a long Foozer this turned into…wow. Wasn’t intentional, like I’ve said ad nauseam here, I just tune the dial to the frequency that comes in the cleanest, give the antenna one final adjustment, then channel in what you’re reading NOW, but as I wrote it in the past. How surreal, I am writing this, in the present, MY present, right now, MY now, but it’s the past YOU are reading, figuratively AND literally, so…idiosyncratic, I think that word works there, let me check…yep, it’s a synonym of surreal. Clever boy. Such surreality, I love that word, one of my favorites, surreality, good stuff. I got a few up in the old lexicon upstairs that got there via means unknown, so many random words, maybe from my spelling bee days, I don’t know, but they pop out occasionally, these “big” words, like just a few words ago, in the past, my past, YOUR now, & there’s some synchronous circularity right there…never fails me, or us, my serpent, my oroborian snake, head eating the tail forever, loops, so many “loop-dee-loops,” or is it “loop-d-loops?” Get that one, dear reader? Anyway, future becoming present becoming past, all in the divine time of the 4th dimension of temporality, & as if on cue, I digress, so let’s go ahead & get the fuck outta this whackadoo place already.
Finally, the end, the end of day my technical day 3, all 72 hours soon to be behind me. It was a long 72 hours while I was there, & it’s been almost 6 years to the day that I had to suffer this ordeal, so wow, 6 years, speaking of the past, sheesh. Is time speeding up? People say it’s a phenomenon of aging, but I don’t agree. I think time IS literally speeding up. Obviously, I have no way to prove this, like zero way, but who can really prove anything here in Clownworld? (Honk Noise) For all you know, & I know, we could all be hypnotized & experiencing different realities, or does that sound too extreme? Have you seen the lunatic liberal left lately? Or even those with no obvious politically-affiliated mental disorder, just pick someone, pick a random person anywhere, then think of their overall understanding of this reality & what is really real here, how clueless are they? Not excluding myself either, believe me, I have no fucking idea what all this is about here in 3d Earth school, if that even IS what it is…I don’t know…I DO NOT KNOW, JUST LIKE YOU, I am not amongst the self-ascribed globalist noble elites who run this rigged game, not even close, & all I CAN say I know, is that those so-called elites DO know what the Big Picture truly illustrates, but they keep that occult knowledge to themselves. God forbid any of us down here in the peasantry get clued in on the real rules of the real game so we could have a chance to win maybe, but nope, no chance, minus the exceptionally random anomaly here & there, you’re either born into them, or you’re dropped of at the dock down here with us. Oh but wait, we haven’t checked out of the hotel for halfwits yet, & I needed my $140 hi-top leather Converse Caballeros I found at a thrift store in my size for $7 back.
Check out time, time to say goodbye, which I did like a stage performer addressing a crowd, the generic whole-crowd goodbye, nothing individual or personal. I would never see any of these people again, I didn’t meet anyone who I even would want to see again, so with a “take care everyone & good luck,” to this Keseyian crowd of the certifiably committed, it was on my way through the normally electro-locked door for the second time, only going the other way, back out into the world I hadn’t seen in 3 days. I had to do some exit-paperwork before I had the bag brought to me with all my stuff. MY SHOES, there were my dope shoes, man I loved those shoes, & I haven’t been able to find any ever since. My black ass is too broke to buy a pair brand new, & the chances of finding them for that insanely low $7 pricetag are like seeing Bigfoot riding a unicorn…otherwise, not gonna happen. You never know here in Clownworld though, & considering all we have witnessed collectively thus far, & what we are sure to witness in the coming years as this Titanic-inspired juggernaut hits that proverbial iceberg & swiftly sinks. Problem is, the psychopaths steering this ship, the REAL “crazy” people, are going to try & take all of us down with them. I cannot speculate how this will all happen precisely, but I have string inclinations, so to speak, that unfortunately, there’s no way to turn the ship away from the tempest on the horizon. The ship ain’t turning, the iceberg ain’t moving, & we are clown horns blaring, full speed ahead still, right toward critical mass, & damn these cue cards as I have digressed once more from the topic..let’s go already…
…got my shoes, my clothes, my wallet, my phone, some loose change, ½ pack of cigarettes, a lighter, & with my exit-paperwork done, it was time to go. My ride was waiting outside, & I immediately noticed that I was ravenously starving for real food. The food was actually not bad in there, but I was craving food food, so once I got to my car, I drove to a Chinese buffet, because that’s where al the best quality food food is, right? Meow meow, woof woof, but I didn’t give 2 fucks, I was so hungry, & in my head it sounded so yumyum-delish, so let’s do it. Once I got there, I fucking crushed it, & I don’t know where it all went, but it went down, like 4 plates. There was a sushi plate to start, from the Chinese buffet, yeah I know, I told you I was stupid-hungry, like Africa hungry, & I just said “fuck it” & kept going, sushi plate, Mongolian plate, 2 plates of regular Chinese buffet food, those boneless spare ribs are divine, & oh damn, I forgot my FIFTH plate, my dessert/fruit plate, so 5 plates, AND a soup, a cup of egg drop, geez…what an animal, & I’m short & skinny, but I got it all down, then the food-coma hit, started to come on fast, so back home I went, & slept like I was in God’s palm. Solid sleep, a good 8 hours, which for me, never really happens, but it did, it happened, that great sleep after my 72-hour trip to the haunted house of nutters, & with the circularity circling all around us, that’s gonna wrap up this new record-long daily Foo-Fooze. Beginning becoming the end, becoming the start, yet again, but for now, it ends, so until next time, if anyone ever asks you if you’re “suicidal,” say NO. Do NOT overthink it Aristotle, just say “NO,” unless you actually are, then you might wanna say “YES,” but I don’t know, that’s your bag of beans, spill them as you see fit & best of luck. Chuck. Now please, mind your head on the way to the glowing exit sign.
For all of you, for some of you, & for none of you at all.
EaT~aLL~YouR~FisH™ 