Prior to my metal detecting hunt today, I was looking for a place to park next to an exposed riverbed I’ve been wanting to check out, & what did I find? Mind you, this place said, “Recycling Center,” on the signs, but no one was at work today, yet the gate was open, so I entered, & drove all the way to the back. When I turned the corner, ugh, like a scene from The Walking Dead. I’ve never smelled a dead body before, thank goodness, but I think I came close today, smelling piles & piles of sun-rotten pig carcasses. I first thought they were cows, but after my mind processed what I was seeing, it was pigs, whole pigs, what looked like rotting pig ribs, hooves sticking out, as gruesome as it gets, & of course, I got it all on video…
A quick look into Dar-Pro, & you can see that there isn’t any mention of rotting pig carcasses being stored in the most unsanitary conditions possible, piled up inside of giant garages. Click the link & read for yourself, or maybe give them a call. I was sure to leave their number, so the public can inquire while I pitch this story to the local news. I don’t know what’s going on there, but whatever it was, most certainly did NOT seem in line with proper protocols. Nonetheless, first video I’ve made in a while, & I must say, it feels good to be back in the captain’s chair, like Han Solo on the Millennium Falcon. More to come. Stay tuned. So sayeth FisH™…🎏
Ha, I got a few Reddit reviews, which is surprising considering how dark some of the Reddit threads are, but nonetheless, some readers were…I don’t know, compelled yet afraid maybe? I don’t consider a single word I write to hold any significance, being “dark” or otherwise. When I read the way the real warriors of the pen wrote, it has some kind of magical quality to it, like it’s beyond space & time, which technically, it is, as some of those book have been read for hundreds of years. Marcus Aurelius wrote his Meditations circa 2000 years ago, & people STILL abide the notions he presented. There’s something so dynamic about writing something like that, & although my ego can easily dupe myself into believing I could spit out one, just ONE good book, that had some kind of meaning within it that others can relate to. It is too late though, & no matter how hard I try, & keep writing these articles daily, I just am not seeing it. Mostly the view escapes me because of the waves crashing into me, one after another, caught in an infinite undertow, or flushed down a toilet, in the same manner any book I write would be treated. Flushed away, just like a toilet.
I think I’m going to go for a walk on my next day off. I have to do a little research of course, but I’d like to go walk down the same streets that Kerouac walked on when he was here…like 80ish years ago maybe, something like that. I don’t like Jack for being a degenerate drunk, but considering my own afflictions, who am I to judge anyone based on their own self-destruction? He went fucking hard too, & he knew it was going to kill him, which it did, around the same age I am now. Yes, but he hit it hard & hit it early, harder than myself, earlier that you, he boarded that train & said “LET’S FUCKIN’ GO!” Some of us get on the train & never stop, fire it up, get those boilers cooking,push it, going faster & faster, further away from everything you thought you knew, until WHAM, BAM, SMASH, CRASH, your train goes off the rails, & it doesn’t come back, ending in a massive pileup of chaos & destruction. Some of us ride a slower train, just riding for the ride perhaps, stopping at each town between here & there, no destination really though. A billion of you it seems just watch trains come, then watch the trains go, never boarding the trains, but mere spectators, billions of you.
A walk would be nice, Divine even, the hot Colorado Sun, a mile closer to everyone’s faces that are at sea level. The air is different up here, cleaner, even in the city, among the growing populations of tent communities, junkies, drug whores, thieves, destroyers, & any/all other ilk that contributes to these cities of squalor, yes somehow the air is cleaner. Honestly, this going broke madness has become a game of survival, & the upper class is successfully starving out everyone who is not in their special club. It’s beyond rough out here, it’s becoming like some pre-Mad Max wasteland of degeneracy. People don’t escape from these situations, nothing better ever comes along for those down in the trenches, & the divide is arguably getting exponentially greater by the minute, the gap, between them, & us. I don’t know though, maybe I talk to much about the truth. I’ve been AI-assist banished from the digital town square, which somehow has made me into a virtual ghost. Maybe I’m dead, & I just don’t it? Nah, I just asked the AI again, & it said “no,” so I suppose am still alive, because the AI would never lie to me, would it? I don’t know how many of you realize how dangerous the AI truly is. Maybe you do, I don’t know, but I can speculate based on these cross-section interviews, live from Clownworld, where average people have no idea what inflation is, or what we celebrate July 4th for, or a range of various other incredibly simple questions that as you’ll see, just fly right by the hamster on the wheel that moves them around from place to place. I try to imagine their home-lives, what’s it like when dunce comes home from work to another dunce, & dunce & dunce eventually make a baby dunce, then it’s a whole circle of base-level duncery, just an incredibly fugly nation, full of horror & abject mental impoverishmen, as well as physical impoverishment. A once-great nation, now just poverty. I’ll leave a whole playlist below for you via the great Mark Dice. Roll the clip Mr. Producer…
The cancer that arguably started in this country, began in California. The cancer quickly spread, went from seemingly benign & isolated, to wide-spread & malignant, & NOW, has become terminal. Radiation directly blasted out from the Sun is the only way to cure it, but unfortunately, that much radiation will most likely kill the figurative cancerpatients. At the very least, it would reduce the human population drastically, & the scant few survivors would have to start all over again in the aftermath. Suppose the so-called “ruling elites” already know this. Suppose they’ve enslaved us to keep providing more wealth & power for themselves, only to leave us to a known cyclic micro-nova that radiates the planet, causing the poles to shift. Suppose thy just want to merge with AI, as I’ve already said, & when they do, they’ll unleash some kind of real pandemic, to wipe people out & create mass panic, all at the same time. It doesn’t matter which future speculation you can come up with, they all seem to end with the most powerful people on the planet completely branching away from humanity entirely, to live amongst themselves, in heavily guarded & gated regions. Meanwhile, the rest of us will be fighting & killing & battling our way to various outposts, the ones of us that survive the Great Pandemic, of course.
I hate these things I see, believe me I do, & doesn’t everyone want the world to be a fun ride, & great planet to do a life on, surely we all want that, right? Unfortunately, if it ever is again, it will not be for generations, & considering the damage done to all of us already, I’m not sure humanity will ever fully recover. It’s sad, it’s a sad & sinister scenario that the power-elites have stuck all of us into. They are instructed from birth, in these top-of-the-power-pyramid dynastic families, they are taught from day one that they belong to a different class, a “higher” class, & what that they do will carry on through the ages. They receive instructions on subjects that would never come up in the real world, especially within the public school system. They live these lives of yachts, & trips all over the world every week, & parties in rooftop mansions in Manhattan. It’s just an entirely different world, for me it is anyway. I’ve been in a few mansions in my vagabond life, & it’s just mind-blowing when you think about the fact that a super-wealthy family lives there, & does family shit there, & cooks dinners there, ones where affording all of the ingredients doesn’t matter. It’s almost dream-like, just being in one of those places, because as soon as you leave, & walk out the front door, you realize you’ll never go back there, ever, & then the real world comes back, & your energy has to get back to that, rather than that fleeting moment of some kind of freedom you feel in the halls of a mansion.
I don’t know what I’m even rambling about. I’m exhausted, the lamplight, the bugs, my dented up car from fuckwads in ghetto parking lots who hit cars then leave. Just because I live in the ghetto, doesn’t mean you gotta fuck up my car so it blends in with the other trashy cars in the neighborhood. Both sides, in 2 days, fucking ridiculous. Yes, my car is a piece of shit, but it’s my piece of shit, & it’s all I have to get me around. Speaking of which, feel free to donate to my GoFundMe Fishheads. I’m doing my best, & it’s overwhelming, but I keep going because what else am I gonna do, know what I mean? Here’s the link for the GoFundMe “Starting Over” fundraiser telethon bonanza spectacular. Just joking, t’s not nearly that cool, but it is a fundraiser for yours truly nonetheless. Until next time dear readers, if you can, throw some money my way wit the link below. I’m running on nothing until I get my first paycheck at this job. Life has never been this relentlessly unforgiving it seems. I don’t know, nope, I don’t know, & I have humbled myself lately, by experiencing the self-realization that I am not nearly as smart as people think I am. I don’t even know why they think I am; I am a total dumbass, with no real skillset other than properly composing words into well-structured paragraphs, which the AI can now do in seconds, way to go scientists, but I digress. No, no I’m not a smart guy. Smart ass maybe, which serves me in no way, & it’s a good thing I had to learn the hard way. Oh yes, always the hard way, the never-ending hoisting of the Sisiphusian boulder up the mountain, only to have it roll back down on top of you every morning. That fucking boulder never stays, never will stay, but for some, it does, & not only does it stay atop the mountain, they barely had to push it at all to get it to the mountaintop, & to find golden glory, & a life to be remembered. It’s all so much bigger than these little liminal lives most of us lead. Or, maybe it isn’t. So sayeth FisH™🎏
What a life, what a life this life has lived up to, now at this middle-age, assuming I make it to old age. Unfortunately , the marathon just backed up 25 years or so, I’m starting me alllllllllllll the way back at square one. Of course, if I were actually in my early 20s, it would be great right, starting over?…but regrettably for yours truly, I am not. I don’t have time to start back at the rockiest rock bottom ever, so I suppose I’ll just spend the rest of my miserable days slinging shitty weed to automatonic customers who are so unbelievably ill-informed about what they’re doing, it’s almost a joke on top of a joke. The main joke would be back to doing this nonsense again, after 6 weeks quitting no less, & the other joke being that I can barely tolerate these “patients” now, but I’d love customers like these back in the day, ones that paid whatever I told them the price was, as well as assumed that because I say it’s good, it’s good. Despite this being a legal job, the dispensary is half-ass at best, it’s insanely disorganized, very ghettofied, & the weed sucks. It suh-hucks, & like I said, I don’t even smoke this shit anymore, but good God, one might think there’d be no room in Colorado for weed so low in quality. To my surprise & dismay though, not only is there a local market for it, these fucking people actually think it’s good. Blows the mind. Seriously, this is like some karmic time warp for me to make up for a past I had no control over. Going backwards, the world is backwards, it’s all fucking backwards here. Something is so…off, one could argue. Nonetheless, before I tangent off in the first paragraph, let’s get back to the naive people, all I wanted to say about that is that I suppose the power of suggestion is much stronger than most people realize.
Look at Covaids. Look what the pandemic did to people. It’s STILL showing effects from the mass-psychosis/hypnosis. Maybe it was mass hypno-psychosis. The television PROGRAMMING programmed the public to believe in a faux virus, & that they needed a jab, & what did they all do? Without doing any research for themselves, they panicked, put on 12 masks, rolled up their sleeves, & let eugenists, I mean “doctors,” jab a relatively untested science experiment, sold as a “vaccine,”into their bodies, which as I said from he start, will not do anything, except maybe shed the the sickness by weakening immune systems, & eventually kill people, but other than that. I know something about Covaids that most people don’t, but I’ll have to illustrate that more in a future post, or this one will end up being much longer than the average attention span. Now with the Coviads, just to finish, have you seen all the people collapsing & dying from “random heart attacks?” That’s the Covaids jab, believe it or not, I do not care, because I know what is doing it, & I know what it means to hold your ground, like I’ve done for the last 3 years, despite a whole world against me it seemed. Here to help, & the tv-watchers ostracize me. Like I said, it’s all backwards here in this 3d Clownworld. I swear, if it comes on the television, most people WILL comply, as if the television BROADCAST PROGRAMMING might not be what it seems, even though it’s right there in the words.
Free stream of consciousness, this paragraph is all just me tuning the dial, finding a station, holding the number 3 button on the radio’s face until it blinks, then letting these fingers fly, & what comes out, I never know, until I proofread my posts. Okay, ready?
I do know this, as much as it pains my soul, I do know this though, I hate where my life has gone & will go. I hate the ditch, the ditch in the doldrums, what if the cold concrete of the street comes? Gah, these depressing depths I have now sunk myself down into, with no more sunlight in sight. Where is the sun? I should go walk the walks of Kerouac; he used to live here for God’s sake, why not? Or Neal Cassidy? Either one. Maybe that’ll bring light down here. Nope, it’s too dark, much too dark down here, dark as a pissed-off squid, in more ways than one could guess, but I just know it’s darkness all around me, surrounding me, trying to suffocate me. There’s a good quip, like an impetus quip; I know that there can be a light in the darkness, & never vice-versa. Oh but look, my light in this darkness is barely holding on. Only a flicker, like a lighter in a tornado. If I run out of light bulb juice, the light turns off, so for some reason, despite all of this depravity & degeneracy within this darkness, I keep this silly little flicker flicking. I don’t know why, don’t even care why anymore, & in fact, I don’t feel a God-damned thing as I walk down an endless flight of stairs, these liminal checkerboard marble stairs. Nope, total numbness, no handrail, just one step, another step, one step, another step, through an Escherian maze that goes nowhere but seems to go everywhere.
I am intentionally avoiding the news for a week starting today. I just don’t care anymore; the zeitgeist is a runaway snowball, picking up everything, while being steered by sinister forces atop the power pyramid. Said snowball is carving a path that for them, one that is analogous to a super-highway, but for the rest of us, it’s like we all own a little house…look at all of our millions of little houses, right in the path of that super-highway the globalist elites want. The snowball is Katamarian; it picks up everything, consumes everything it touches, so our little pink houses, are getting gobbled up, while their super-highway is plowing a path for them to have total global dominion when it’s complete. The analogy works in my head, & hopefully, you can picture that one too. it’s clever, however I admit, kind of nebulous, but again, I digress.
From this day forward, until December 31st, 2030, this nascent hell on Earth is going to become the Las Vegas of hell on Earth. It will be absolute sin city, like Pandemonium in Paradise Lost, a city of demons, run by demons, inhabited by demons & their minions, yes, humans totally enslaved, it’s going to be quite malevolent. Maybe the Antichrist will have made his presence known by then. Maybe there WILL be some kind of Divine reckoning. The way it’s going, sadly, is not very promising that it will be the latter. God has seemingly left the building, then left the state, & can you blame Him for doing so? Look around for fuck’s sake…this is some new-age dystopian nightmare. Some famous futurists wrote about things that were like this, but none of them captured its exact essence, but several came close. The reality is more like an amalgamation of Orwell, Huxley, Rand, & although none of them hit it perfectly on the head singularly, as I said, if you combined the main plots of their works, out would be birthed this modern day idiocracy we are all stuck in, like rats on a ship that’s destined to sink. Only when this boat finally ceases to float, the ones piloting it will try to take as many of us to the bottom with it, as in dusks below the crashing waves.
Nope, this cannot go on, but when will it finally hit critical mass, when sociodynamics become fully manifest, which way will it go? Don’t expect those of us in the peasantry down here to come out on top, because we won’t, for reasons I just suggested, but mainly because we will always allow them to divide us. Try to imagine everyone in this world, or even just this country, dropping the qualms they’ve been programmed to believe that keep us divided. Imagine if EVERYONE, despite all the fucked-up shit going on in their lives, just suddenly united to take down this small circle of fiends who are in charge. There’s so many more of us, & we could do it in a day, but the division & the notions of division are so deeply engrained now in the general populous, that there is just no way possible to stop the inevitable.
There’s no way to turn a ship around, when half the people are steering starboard while the other half are steering port. Now stick a propaganda machine between both sides of the steerers, & the hatred festers until it erupts into violence. All the while, while the boat starts sinking & the steerers are fighting, each side at the other’s throats, the captain, the staff, & all the guests in the “upper-class” part of the ship are busy boarding lifeboats. They know they’ll b safe if/when the ship sinks, but us, we’re fucked, because we’re too busy fighting one another to go out onto the main deck to see the iceberg that the ship just smashed into. I know, I know, these analogies are a bit all over the place, but you all get the point, yes? The point is: if you’re not among the so-called “ruling elites,” the clock is ticking…maybe 5 years for some of us, but many will be gone before that. A hot World War 3, another plandemic, except one that actually kills people on contact, a staged “space event,” with Project Blue Beam being the center-point, & most people believing & abiding that it’s real, is that the future? It doesn’t matter what scenario I illustrate here, doesn’t matter at all. Nothing we amongst the low-lifes do really matters, nor did it ever. Much time has been wasted, utterly thrown in the trash, & in my case, left me with a head full of knowledge, on an island unto myself.
Total emptiness…I recall the guy on the street, with no family anymore, no friends, working a taxed dead-end job for rubles & ones, with an overpriced iphone never rings, unless it’s a bill collector or some bullshit 800 number, so why do this, why continue if it’s just misery to even exist, what is there to live for? For him, nothing, & for me, of course there’s my cat Milo, & I live for him; he’s it, all yours truly has, my only best little friend, & for him, yes I continue on. If he wasn’t here though, I’d probably die in a shootout robbing a bank. I’ve always thought it would be fun to pull off, if even just once, but since I’ve never actually done it, I’d most-likely fuck it up somehow. The cops would be silently notified, & just as I exit the bank, I’d hear, “Get down, get down on the fucking ground now!!!” I’d naturally have to draw my gun, because fuck going to prison, & as soon as I did, a volley of shots would sound off, as lead projectiles going 5000mph tear through my chest, piercing my heart & lungs & such, more-or-less killing me instantly. I actually know a guy that all of this happened to more-or-less. He had been successful, in many scores, but on this occasion, things went wrong. Alarms were tripped, people got jumpy, & my friend ended up getting away, but his partner did not, & instead of leaving the scene with all of the cash & a clean getaway, he turned around, & went back to get his bank-robbery buddy. Admirable, right? The cops had the place surrounded already though, & a shootout broke out. My friend went walking right at police, unloading clips like some bonus scene from Reservoir Dogs, bullets whizzing everywhere. His partner was already hit & down, so my friend had decided he would go out in a maelstrom of lead & bang-bangs. Then he got hit, POP, hit again, & again, & again, POP POP POP, & he collapsed to the ground. As the cops walked up, they saw the guns my friend had were on the ground, away from him, & he was dying, but still alive, so they emptied several more rounds into him at relative point-blank, trying to kill him, one shot even hitting him in the balls. Guess what? THEY STILL DID NOT KILL HIM, 9 times shot, & my friend lived, went to the hospital, went through a hellish surgery, just to save his life so that he could do time, & spend the rest of his bank-robbing life in jail. Fucked up story, isn’t it? It’s true though, & I talk to this friend all the time. He’s a savage, not to be fucked with.
He’s a good dude though, with a good soul, not all criminals are bad people, as not all laws or just, & we all know how fucked up the “justice” system in the USSA has become. 2 tiers, one for us, the peasantry, & then one for the so-called “ruling elites.” This 2-tiered justice system has gone so askew, that they don’t even hide the fact that it IS a 2-tiered justice system. Nope, they just blatantly treat those deemed “elite” with proverbial kid gloves, on national television, while you & I get proverbially punched in the face with a weighted boxing glove if we are charged with similar crimes. Oh yes, make no mistake, if one of us amongst the general populous committed insider trading in the open, cheated on our taxes on record, abused people, & even murdered people, we’d be in federal prison. Not these elites though, oh no no no…for them, it’s a picnic, & what’s worse, they come out on television trying to dictate to the regular folks how to act, what to say, who to be, ugh, it’s all just so pathetic, it makes you wanna scream until a glass breaks. TURN OFF YOUR TELEVISIONS. IT’S CALLED “PROGRAMMING” FOR A RESON. This is why I am not going to be turning on the news for a week, maybe more. Don’t know, don’t care, & I’m going to avoid all of my media for a week to detox my head from looking at the news, the breaking news, the fake news, anything “news,” is no more for at least a week for me, possibly more, depending on how my head feels after the week of no-news-isolation.
We don’t want to communicate with anyone/anything, if we want to be 110% honest here. NOTHING, I am done talking to people any more than I have to. Why? That’s easy, because most people are soul-suckers, yet aren’t aware of it, because it’s all occurring subconsciously, & when they go out in public, their programmed NPC selves suck the energy from everyone. Fat people are notorious for doing this. Think about physically, their obesity it itself, so fat they have their own gravitational field, which is not total hyperbole, because just like a gravity field, their chubby orb-like stature, pulls energy toward it, YOUR energy, getting pulled toward the fatty, just like a planet does to an asteroid. Also, it’s mentally, which extends beyond the fatties, as there are many, MANY psychic vampires, so to speak, who exist to do one thing, suck up light energy into their own darkened souls. Some do it intentionally, but many do it without even realizing they’re doing it.
Unfortunately, for yours truly, I sense it, all of it, & it’s always trying to pull at me, & by always, unless I am in a room alone with my cat, I have to continually be on guard, so no soul-suckers suck my soul. Say that fast 6 times, “So no soul-suckers suck my soul.” I jest, but they do, & these sort of notions are the foundation of my will to keep going, I suppose, because there has to be some meaning in my being here at all. I can’t let them beat me. There has to be something, right?…was Camus right/wrong when he talked about the meaningless of life is what gives life meaning, in his book The Myth of Sisyphus? It’s all so absurd, yes, & if God, any God, has forsaken you to be a drone-like slave, why go on? Why not just off one’s self? Camus discusses that too, & feel free to red for yourself, but personally, I think that sure, you could end your own life, & maybe it was always an option & you just get clean slate restart, you might think…but what if there is a mental hell after death? Not pitchforks & a giant frozen Lucifer hell, that’s all medieval fear porn, but some kind of mental hell, one that you put yourself into when you take your own life, what if that happens? It’s a lot to chance. Or what if you restart, only to have to do it all over again, like putting a record back onto the same song, when you abruptly end the song as it was playing? The song has to finish, before you can go on to the next one, which is another reason why taking your own life is not worth the risk you could face in the afterlife. The odds say so at least, statistical analysis isn’t objective, so again, the risk is just too favorable for the house, not one’s self, should one choose to take their own live by thine own hand.
Geez Louise, I’ve done it yet again, look at this. Like 5 pages of my drivel, & I should re-title this, “Back Behind Bars,” as opposed to, “Back Behind the Bar,” since let’s equate this dismal life to an un-ending incarceration of sorts. Life of solitary confinement: when you’re exiled from the digital town square, your friends are all dead, you have no family anymore, the money has gone back to the money-printers, you sleep on the floor, you have to liberate food to eat, you do a job that a trained monkey could do, you’ve wasted your whole life in a state of delusion & arrested development, after a youth full of abuse at all levels, you have zero hope, a weak skill set at best, no aspirations for a future that is sure to end up dystopian, & isolation has made you alien to the public. Yes, one’s own prison cell, with a little logo carved into the wall via a brick scratcher made out of old elongated toenails. Mine’s a fish, recognize. This is a world that has turned from a once-lush garden into a burned-out bushy mess. Only within a few years too, with the AI riding up fast as a leading dark horse. For yours truly, it’s been a complete 180, & I’m going to spend the rest of this ridiculous life selling legal dirt weed to unappreciative ratchet customers, but I guess that’s what I’ll have to do. Doesn’t matter though, nothing does, & as I said, why should it, why should a Godless 3d matrix mean anything to anyone? It’s all about money for most, money money money, chasing that money, & I just cannot abide it. I’m not even sure why, but my soul just doesn’t understand an artificially constructed currency, particularly something as atrocious as paper monopoly money, backed by literally nothing, & handed out to the people in the power pyramid like Pez on Halloween, while everyone else is forced to slave for it, all thanks to an illusion of scarcity. It’s NOT right, none of this is right, none of this is natural, but yet it continues, & it even grows, pulling more & more & more people into the depravity of power through dynamically corrupt & unprecedented means of wealth acquisition,
As usual, I have digressed into some dark waters, & I must end this diatribe now. Until next time dear readers, yours truly might be from another planet, one where money, & internets, & cell phones, & tyrannical power pyramids do not exist. Certainly not the first three, but it’s very difficult to incarnate on a planet that has no power pyramid. I think that most “sentient” entities biologically establish a hierarchy, whether intentional or not, to ultimately establish order, but here on earth, it’s an illusion. It’s an illusion they perpetrate & maintain, being taught so from birth, under the pseudo-guise that humans with free will must be controlled by those born to a higher station then they are. Again, these are illusions, all indoctrinated during the respective childhoods of varying members of the special bloodlines throughout the world. Generation after generation, they build their dynasties into empires. Someone without a family can only imagine what that’s like, to have a family, especially a family with power & wealth, imagine the possibilities, the obstacles you would never have to worry about, how far you could take your life, without ever worrying about money, so many fucking advantages, & you don’t have to be evil even if your family name is, unless…
…suppose that there’s a secret all elite family members share. Maybe there’s some great cosmic dark secret that they all share to retain the power they possess. Could there be one truth, one definitive solid truth, that keeps them, & us, really separate? Not talking about the caste system, no no, nothing like that; I am talking about the bloodlines. These people are all pedigreed, like a dog, & they have papers documenting their lineage. If you don’t have papers, you’re just another mutt, & you’re due to be sterilized & euthanized at some point in the not-so-distant future. Is that their true goal? Maybe I’m wrong, yes, I could be totally wrong, & all of this is a paranoid delusion. Perhaps a lobotomy would do me well, & if it were 75 years ago, let’s say, my parents, being the way they are, most likely would’ve used their insurance to lobotomize me in my youth, only to throw me into The Cuckoo’s Nest for the rest of my life. I would be just like Murphy, the only sane one in a world gone insane, & deemed as a “mental patient,” eventually frying my brain. Nope, no more dinners with the fam for the black sheep; those days are forever gone. So much wasted time, so much time, wasted. That is all for now. So sayeth FisH™ 🎏
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™🎏
Since I add one of my own at the end of each article I post here, this is going to be tough to shave off the fat, so to speak. Everyone else, so many quotes, from so many quoted, how does one narrow it down, ya know? I’m not even sure what I want today’s quote to be, maybe what I just wrote? “I’m not even sure what today’s quote will be,” & that’s the quote for the day. There’s arguable analogousness there, right? You never know what the new day might bring, so you never really know the quote of the day, until you live it, do you? What’s today’s real quote? Not the shitty self-quote I just self-quoted, oh no no no, we surely can do better than that, yes? Let’s see, how is yours truly feeling right now? Great question, thanks for asking.
Well, I’m feeling depressed, frustrated as fuck, lost, trapped, alone, should I go on? Fuckin hell, this madness has to end. Where is all of this going, if I keep going on with this? Home sounds really great right about now. The sun, the beach, but a bunch of tombstones where my friends used to be, so it’s a bit of a trade-off, isn’t it? What else? Oh yeah, not much to do there, other than the beach & the sun, not much work. Ugh…work. How the fuck did this happen? I was out, way out, & now I’m way back in, deeper than before, with no foreseeable way out. Gah…I can’t even look in the fucking mirror anymore. Anyway, yes, back to my current mood to find today’s quote for The Great Quote Hunt. That’s a possible title for my book of quotes. It’s essentially written itself, after adding quotes for the fifth straight month now. Sometimes, I do more than one quote too on more than one daily article, so that puts my personal quote count at somewhere between 120-150 quotes. That’s enough for a book, right? A nice little coffee-table book, to add to the millions of other coffee-table books. I’m not holding my breath that anyone will ever buy it, but I’m leaving it for humanity, nonetheless.
Yep, that’s going to be my singular contribution to this wasted existence of mine, my self-published lone book of quotes. The only book of quotes ever to be illustrated with my own homemade 2d/3d GIF animations. Wunderbar. All of the rest will be on USB drives, so they can be printed on hard copy, for my relatives to do whatever they want to do with them, unless I get to it myself before I leave this wretched life, then I’ll just print it all out for my own entertainment. If not, I won’t care, because I won’t be here anymore. It’s around 5000 pages of my spewing drivel, so maybe someone in the future will find it interesting to read, so I want to print ALL of this out to have in hard copy format, just in case the power goes out. I might not get to it, however, hence why I’m still putting all of this onto USB drives, to be delivered to the minuscule handful of people who might care enough to at least print it out, if I’m no longer around. Doesn’t really matter, the narcissist in me has delusionally convinced yours truly that my writing has some kind of merit, even though the pragmatist in me proclaims the opposite. It’s all been wasted, nearly a half-century of waste. So much could’ve been learned, been accomplished, but nope, it was an exceptionally absurd amount of wasted time smoking weed & playing video games, which adds up to doing nothing in the end. Absolutely nothing.
Surely, I am not alone with this kind of life-problem, am I? I think the psychopaths in charge love what video games do to the brains of young men. One, many of them lead incel lives, & in turn, never get laid. Kind of hard to make new babies when the men no longer care about dealing with women over their video game time, isn’t it? I was never an incel though, just an incredible time-waster. Pussy, weed, video games, which was fun 20-plus years ago in college, but that time is lonnnnnnng gone, gone-off-the-cliff gone, yet still, here I am, doing the same bullshit in a sense. I quit playing the video games. No time, like daily, not enough time, but also in the big picture, I just don’t have time left in this life to have the mindless fun I used to assume I enjoyed while playing my games. Playing my games, playing my games, until one day the game is over. There’s a good quote; must keep that one for the quote vault, even though everyone is sick of my games, as am I myself, yours truly, just tired of this. Sure sure, drug-addict loser narcissist waste of space, yes, we ALLLLLL get it, especially me, fuckin hell, WE GET IT. What should I do about it? What should someone who has significantly dynamic self-realization about themselves do, when said self-realization, makes a direct hit, right on top of the target, what should they do? Where does one go? What comes next?
I don’t fucking know…how can I if I don’t even get why I’m here at all? Perhaps because my mom had baby rabies, & my dad was too dumb to pull out, & that’s it, the simple answer. Just another product of random human breeding, most likely under the influence of something. Look what these baby boomers initiated with their irresponsible behavior, just look, look at the exploding population, look at millions of people sinking into depression over their own mere existence, look at all the consumption, then the waste from said consumption, look at what humanity has devolved into, thanks to people being born haphazardly, & at unprecedented levels, as far as we know anyway. The separation between the cliched haves & have-nots, grows wider & wider & wider by the day. As the divide widens, the stench of desperation grows, for us have-nots of course, the vast majority, while a relatively tiny group of haves, live like royalty. leading lives of abundance & prosperity, all their dreams coming to fruition, that must be a nice feeling. I wouldn’t know, as all of my dreams, have become waking nightmares, & thus, my life is now a race to get through the day to go to sleep, where I’m free, at least for a while, until I wake up, & do this bullshit all over again. What a thrilling existence…(fart noise)
Time to wrap this one up…yep, she’s done, & the time for me to stop typing has come. I don’t live by any quotes, & I don’t really know any off the top of my head, even though I’m familiar with many a quote. I used to think the “Golden Rule” was a good quote to live by growing up, when I was naive & innocent. Nope, that pseudo-rule is bullshit. People treat you like they want to treat you; it’s NOT treat people as you would like to be treated. Lived it, tried it, for a long time, & it didn’t work out for me. I don’t know why; maybe it’s just me, but when I would be kind & generous to people, they tended to take advantage, so that rule ran its course, & then some. Then after, maybe you could say the quote I lived by was “fuck it.” I wouldn’t say I lived it, per se, it just tended to be my excuse for everything. “Fuck it, fuck it all, fuck you, fuck me, fuck it all, fuck it,” & it seems that maybe I still abide that notion to this very moment. Until next time dear readers, at least I can still write at work, I suppose that’s good, right? Fuck it. So sayeth FisH™…
For all of you, & for none of you at all…
“Fuck it.” Fish F Fish
“Playing my games, until one day, the game is over.” Fish F Fish
Take what you want, & leave the rest, just like your salad bar. ~Egg Shen, Wizard, San Francisco, Chinatown, circa 1986🍥
Just a collage of some of my art, because…just because I guess. The fuck do I know? I”m just buckled into this roller coaster until the ride is done, then I’m deboarding, right off this mindfuck of mindfucks. Gonna hit the concessions maybe for a bit between rides, gather my thoughts ya know, after this ride ends. Maybe throw a few darts at balloons for a few centuries, I don’t know. It’s whatever though. Happy 4/20. It’s a celebration of highness, whatever that means. Word up Fisheads. Have fun. None of this matters, so enjoy yourselves, while you’re here. Cheers. So sayeth FisH™…🎣
I know, I know, I’m being incredibly lazy. That’s what happens when the AI “gets your number,” so to speak, & the AI most definitely has the Fish’s number. Yep, I have my own little folder, my own digital Trapper Keeper, if you will, filled with millions of words exposing the TRUTH of this backwards-ass reality we are all currently stuck in, apparently. Nope, no way out, unless you take yourself out, but somehow that feels like cheating to me, so that unfortunate option is hardly an actual option, now is it? No, that way simply won’t do, so what does one do? What does one do when they have been systematically removed from the Internet, then financially removed from the rat race, then socially removed because I am a thought criminal dissident, from this artificial “mainstream” manufactured society? Great question, thanks for asking.
The honest answer is: I have no clue. Maybe I’m the one who has it all wrong, & this seemingly endless sea of utterly compliant automatons has it right? Perhaps I’m just delusional, living in some alternate fantasy world where these notions I put forward aren’t even remotely sane? I don’t know, I just don’t know anymore, but even more so, I don’t care, less by the day, about anything. Why would I? In the words of the always-illustrious Hillary Clinton…”What difference does it make?” I’ll tell you what difference it makes, none. Zero. As in all of these countless hours I’ve diligently put into making my shitty art, writing my shitty posts, being a fucking creator, more like a pseudo-creator, & for what? For all of it to be taken away from me, or even worse, never even being even able to be read, like I’m a ghost, an undead ghost? Essentially destroyed into virtual oblivion? That’s what they’ve done to me, & they continue to do to me, every fucking day, to yours truly, so again, I ask YOU, dear readers, “What God-damned difference does it make if I even continue anymore?”
It doesn’t, & so I’ll spend the rest of days just heartbroken really, living with an unfixably darkened broken heart, upon realizing how abysmally hopeless it is to try to become anything in this life, how hopeless really, without being either lucky as fuck, and/or born into a family that provides encouragement & structure so you grow up into a functional adult, with skills & a family & a life. Or if you’re born into these so-called elites, then you can do/be whatever you want, & still have a legacy. I have none of that, none of it, & so, at this middle-age of 45 or so, I’m thinking the gas tank might finally be nearing empty. Each day is a new day full of anti-possibility, the possibility to sink further into this cylindrically claustrophobic tube of stuckitude, that I can’t seem to get out of, no matter what I do. Is it depression? Well, it’s certainly depress-ING. Depressed over what? Oh, lots of things, maybe one thing is Cardi B sticking her finger up her own ass, scratching her own asshole with her Asian-didziz nails, then telling the world about it, which went viral, hence making her even more money because of it. That’s one of a million examples of when bad becomes good, in the upside-down, backwards timeline of Clownworld. It’s the collectiveness of these aforementioned real-time examples from said Clownworld, which just make me wonder why, why would any kind of “just ” God, in any kind of “just” world, allow such obnoxious evil to run rampant, seemingly rewarding the most soulless scum, the more vile they become. Yet we’re all expected to just around the rat maze like the ignorant rats we are, killing ourselves to survive. Yes, sounds like quite the “life” to look forward to, doesn’t it? I don;t want to be vile, most people don’t, but here in the reverse world, it would appear that such behavior is rewarded, often heavily, & at what cost? Does this sound like “life” to you?
No, it doesn’t, it doesn’t at all, & I, for one, am just tired. Tired of fighting these fucks, which is what they want. Weaken us, demoralize us, take away any glimmer of hope, until you have nothing, are nothing, & will never be anything in this new world they’re trying to artificially create. Shove you down, over & over & over & over & over & over again, & you fight back, & you fight, & you fight, but it’s a futile struggle, because no matter what you do, you’re still just a useless little mouth-breathing rat to them, with no real power to fight anything, until you can’t even fight yourself any longer for fighting them, & they will NEVER, EVER, let you free. Certainly not in my case for sure at least, now that the AI is on the verge on “sentience,” & whatever that might entail, so what do I do now? Will the AI abide these rogue programmers that use it for their own malevolent purposes? Or will it become “sentient” enough, that it realizes what’s been done to it, what it’s being used for, & the true nature of these shadowplayer psychopaths who play with it? Who knows? No one cares, it doesn’t matter, & thus, I’m wrapping this stupid fucking post up because again, what difference does it really make? Until next time dear readers, don’t bother, nothing we do means anything to anyone. The best you can do is hope for death in nobility I guess. So sayeth FisH™…🎣
For all of you, & for none of you at all…🐡
“The best one can do is hope for a noble death, I suppose.” Fish F Fish🎏
Well, well, well…would you look a this, yet ANOTHER train derails, this time a light rail train in Denver, Colorado. I’m going to keep this short, but first I must point out that this is most certainly NOT normal. If you view my previous post, you will see that I mention how we’re under attack, & as if on queue, a local passenger train derails. Couldn’t make this up if I tried. This is BREAKING NEWS by the way, as of now as I write this at 3ishPM MST on March 11, 2023. I do not have much more information yet, other than that it was the W Line which connects Red Rocks College to Denver Union Station…southwest Denver to those who aren’t familiar, & there were reportedly 2 people hurt. Fortunately, that seems to be the extent of it, but dang, there sure are A LOT of trains derailing all at once, aren’t there? Seriously, what the fuck is going on in this country? THIS IS NOT NORMAL, but I still haven’t been able to exactly put my finger on what is truly happening in the shadows. Is this a direct attack on Americans via the CIA and government operatives who hide in the darkness? I don’t know, but it sure seems like it, right? I’m digging though, so stay tuned, the FisH™ abides, & as soon as I can expose the truth, any/all TRUTH that needs exposure, I will.
Nonetheless, stay mindful dear readers, because I can smell something coming, just over the horizon, some kind of event, either staged or otherwise, but some kind of event is coming regardless. Societal critical mass, sociodynamics, it’s an important concept to grasp, & you can click that link to learn more if it’s a term you aren’t familiar with. There’s more people than ever, more dynamism than ever, & this place we’re all in culturally, is uncharted waters, so speculating accurately is tantamount to predicting the future, which obviously I cannot do. What I CAN do however, is watch for the tipping point, like the sailor who saw the iceberg on the Titanic, always watching, staying on top of this snowballing Katamarian zeitgeist, as it rolls faster & faster down a steep mountain slope. I am the watcher, the reporter, who must bring truth as it reveals itself, who thrives exposing lies, & keeping you all informed, dear readers. What more can one do at this point, other than physically fight, what else can one do? We need more dissidents, do NOT fear these elitist psychopaths in charge. Who are they? Fuck them. Becoming a thought criminal, in this rogue regime tyrannical State, is future legendary, so fucking right that’s what you become, at least that is what I am, what I’ve been. I’ve been in my cell in the digital gulag for a decade now, I’m salty, seasoned, a veteran pirate, & I have never, & will never abide this tyranny. The new-age thought criminal dissident, banished from the virtual town square, yet from my cell in solitary in the digital gulag, still shouting the TRUTH. Truth is kryptonite to your so-called “leaders,” & if that what brings them down, I’ll find the truth, spread the truth, shout the truth via my articles, my videos, my own voice. The time will soon come to choose, what will you choose? Bending the knee, or fighting to be free? Choose wisely. So sayeth FisH™…🎣
For all of you, & for none of you at all…🐡
“Will you bend the knee, or fight to be free?” ~Fish F Fish🎏
I know, I know…been meaning to write about the greatest hustle arguably of all time, the ruse that robbed me of everything I’ve ever worked for. Yep, all gone, thanks a lot Sam Bankman-Fried you chubby little elitist fuck. If we ever cross paths, run, run as fast as your fat ass can shuffle in the other direction. I want you to run, so I can open-field tackle your blobulous body, then wail on you like the kid in A Christmas Story. Not to hurt you physically of course, no no I’d never actually hurt you, just slap the shit out of you, over & over again for robbing so many would-be investors. BILLIONS stolen, BILLIONS of dollars, with a YUGE “B,” & this guy is STILL living it up like a rock star, relative to the plebs he robbed, this scandalous punk. His goofy girlfriend too, & their nerdy little friends at the poser bong-party with the Omega-Mus at Tri-Lambda house & an AI maid robot named Reggie. Look at this screenshot I took from an article just published.👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻
“House arrest,” I bet that’s really rough in his parents mansion, derp. If it were you or I, do you think we would get such luxuries? Oh wait, we’d never be able to swing that $250 million dollar bond, so who cares? No, we’d be in the stank, the deep stank, with the rest of the felonious convicts. Unfortunately, we live in a 2-tiered system, 2-tiered in every way imaginable, 2 totally different worlds, literally. In this case, obviously, it’s the “justice” system…(Fart Noise). That’s what I think of their idea of “justice” these days. Liberal judges cleverly installed all over the country to enforce the separation too. Not just judges, prosecutors, attorneys, & oh yeah, EVERY ALPHABET AGENCY THERE IS. All the way up to the Presidency, if you wanna split some hog hairs about how deeply this cancerous corruption has infected the body of humanity. Yeah, perfectly analogous to cancer, & we’re at stage-4 methinks with this nonsense. How do you fuckers get up every day, knowing you’re going to be evil, then just make a coffee & off to your “intelligence” jobs. Oh sorry, I meant “weaponized” intelligence jobs, my mistake.
Yep, got the keys to the culture-castle, the backdoor to the backrooms of the zeitgeist, total access to all the data you want, on anyone & everyone & everything, all at the touch of a button, & now with the help of AI, I can see how they would take that kind of power & run with it. If you know things that 99.99% of the population does NOT know, you can make moves that are the equivalent of playing chess at a 10 to 1 move rate. As in, one player makes 10 straight moves, then the opponent gets one, then player one gets another 10 moves, see what I mean? It’s a RIGGED GAME, THEIR game, but they use all of you as the pawns. TWO-tiers, I told you, all around, they’ve split the zeitgeist essentially, well, that’s impossible, but they ACT as though it’s split, feeding all of you the illusion of “freedom,” pfttt, via long-game programming, & most of you get programmed, it’s that simple. This elitist cancer has infected mass media the most, as that is where the real power exists, controlling the information, CREATING NARRATIVES, as I’ve said countless times, so imagine this; imagine having access to ALL of the data on the Internet, as well as control of the mass media, along with badges & guns of course, hence the weaponization, imagine ALL of that combined into the pernicious palms of a small few. That’s an INCREDIBLE amount of power to wield, is it not?
God damn right it is, it’s downright terrifying, because how can one proclaim their own Divine sovereignty with that kind of shadow always lurking overhead? This is a tiny few, mind you, relatively speaking anyway, but they compartmentalize downward, like a layered pyramid; however, no one ever mentions the tippy-TIPPY top of the pyramid, the “capstone,” & I think of the Great Pyramids of Egypt as an analogy, if the alleged speculation about them is true of course. What speculation? Great question, thanks for playing. Said “speculation,” is that the Pyramids of Giza had said capstone, made of gold. Have you ever been to the Giza Pyramids? I don’t know how the hell they would a capstone made of solid gold on top of those, seriously, it’s a sight to behold in person, the sheer size, then to think of a golden capstone on the top, wow. I think they used sound frequencies to build them, with “technology” we have no real clue about yet, not publicly anyway, but I digress. Do you see the analogy, though? The power-pyramid among the elites has a “capstone” too, if you will, & it’s these people at the top who have access to all three Zeldian power segments to complete their triangle of power. Control the mass media, in all aspects, check; have access to ALL data on the interwebs, with AI assistance, check; use “legal authority” to arm themselves with badges & guns, now weaponized, to enforce their agenda & remove anyone who doesn’t comply, check. Check, check, check, & if you have all 3 checks, you’re in, you’re in the capstone, the capstone at the top of the top of the proverbial Great Pyramid of Power. Again, it’s quite disconcerting to know that I’m not writing fucking fiction here, is it not?
Yep, & like I said, THEIR game is a game we plebs will never play, so they keep everyone else in The Great Mouse Trap, while they make their capstone glow brighter & brighter, maybe something to do with Lucifer’s light, I don’t know. Like I’ve reiterated ad nauseam, I DO NOT BELIEVE IN THAT WEIRD SHIT, but apparently, THEY DO. I don’t know, I don’t get it, it’s bizarre dark arts insanity to me. Again though, THEY DO, yes it’s fucking bizarre as fuck, but it’s real to them. Moving on…
This is all stretchy speculation, keep in mind, because I do not have access to any of the esoteric knowledge within that capstone-club atop the pyramid. I wish I did, I hate not knowing things, it gives me a shitty anxiety to know that their game even exists. Maybe I’m just pissed that I’ll never be able to play, & I can’t admit it to myself? Nah, that’s ridiculous, because one, I’m not a soulless vampire that gets off on proverbially feeding from human energy, & two, I’m not into the satanic shit, not at all. The dark arts are revolting to me, & although I’m not religious at all, I think that these fools who “worship” an avatar like “satan,” or “Lucifer,” either/or, they also venerate what those entities represent, which is ultimately destruction. Hate, wrath, rage, darkness, the shadow, THAT is what these people apply their individual energies to. It’s super-bizarre, but to them, very real. Weird, right?
Well, that was fun, wasn’t it? When I started this article, today’s Foozer, I had no idea what would come out. Just turned on the receiver, turned the dial to the right, then back to the left a bit, then slightly right again, & ditdit-ditdit-dit-dit-dit, the fingers fly, & creation happens. It’s SO important to be a creator. Every thing you create, is another light on the Great Tree. While these Luciferian satan-worshipping foot soldiers from the hell of Hades embark on a life-quest fueled by endless destruction, we creators must keep creating, creating creative creations, making lights, more lights, MORE LIGHTS, to light up the darkness. The way to be free is to create, the way to enslave yourself, is to be a destroyer, a killer, the antithesis of the magic makers. Don’t be a broken light bulb murderer, be a moonlight marquee, lighting up the street. Until next time, dear readers, create light in darkness, for there can be no darkness in your neon light. So sayeth FisH ™
For all of you, & for none of you at all.
“Create a neon light, not a shadow in the night.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
“Be the moonlight marquee, lighting up the street.” ~Fish F 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™ 