Cheers to Piano Matty B & KyleMac…kings of the dueling piano bar. Originally a BenFoldsFive deep-cut song, now being sung by my digital friend KyleMac. He sings it from time to time during their livestreams. Every Friday & Saturday night on Youtube. Come check it out…click this link to sub his Youtube channel: Click HERE to watch Piano Matty B & friends Not only do you get nostalgically epic music on request, but also, he drops morning tech analysis for crypto, specifically Bitcoin. 7AM MST.
Cooking up these AI art projects like my days are numbered, & considering my train wreck of a life, they probably are actually, but I digress. Maybe yours are too. Maybe EVERYONE’S days are numbered, but don’t know it. Anything could happen, at any time, & it usually does. Speaking of time, AI is growing at an exponentially alarming rate, maybe within fractions of seconds now. ALLLLLLLLLL of our data, feeding this juggernaut, all day, every day, all the time. AI is going to change the world. We’re basking in the dawn of its nascent stage, but once dusk comes, buckle up humans. AI is coming. Where will it all lead us to? What’s next?
Thanks for watching/reading. More to come, stay tuned. So sayeth FisH™…🎣
The title says it all…”Sweet Sleep,” & what is sweeter than sleep? A reprieve, albeit a brief one, but a reprieve nonetheless from this awful wicked 3d prison planet world, only to wake up heartbroken again to be seemingly trapped here, trapped in this body, in this place, in The Great Mouse Trap. This upside-down backwards timeline has a course that pinnacles with a societal critical mass of unprecedented magnitude, so is that why we’re here, to bear witness & obviously survive said critical mass? Is the whole point of this wretched existence going to peak when we all experience the imminent proverbial pot of water boiling over? Humans can only be pushed so far one way, before they essentially beg to be pushed another, because singular individual thought rarely sounds the horn, so to speak. When it does though, revolutions happen. Of course, sweet sleep will be a thing of the past if/when true global turmoil becomes the “normal” day in the not-so-distant future. No more sweet sleep until The Great Sleep. Until next time dear readers, embrace sleep, the sweet sleep, for it is the only freedom you have. So sayeth FisH™…🎏
Serum-925 was created in a lab by a Chinese scientist named Dr. Shuyi. Dr. Shuyi had a long & accredited reputation for creating various viruses & bacteria, that he himself intended to be beneficial for the human race. His overlords, however, the CCP(Chinese Communist Party), had other intentions, intentions not so benevolent. The CCP had grown weary of United States global dominance, particularly the dominance of the United States dollar. The U.S. dollar had been the global currency for decades, even after the gold standard was removed in 1971, thus the value of the U.S. dollar was now-backed by literally nothing, & to the quickly-advancing Chinese economy, this was unacceptable. It was time, the time of the planetary financial reign of the USA to come to an end. The lone issue stopping the Chinese from taking total dominion over the world’s currency exchange for themselves, was one thing: armed Americans. Open hot nuclear war would be devastating, much too messy, for all involved, as well as for those not involved. They needed a solution, something that would non-violently wipe away their mortal enemy from the West, without affecting the Chinese, & the rest of the world, & so, they looked to Dr. Shuyi, for an answer he could not refuse to give . They took him aside one day, & by “took aside,” they stormed into his office, armed, & took him away from his morning paperwork to meet with a man known as Mr. Wang. “Wang,” in China, is the equivalent of “Smith,” in English, & most likely was not this man’s real name. Anonymity was important, as well as compartmentalization, because the USA had spies everywhere, even inside the CCP, & Mr. Wang needed Dr. Shuyi to do something, for the future of his country, that the Americans must never be made aware of.
Dr. Shuyi was blindfolded, & brought to a room, a room with no view, no windows, only a desk & 2 chairs, & a CCP flag in the corner. Mr. Wang was brief & to the point, & told Dr. Shuyi that he needed to make a new virus, one that would kill whoever it infected, but kill them slowly, however not too slowly. It must be RNA-activated, engineered to ONLY infect those who had taken the messenger-RNA Covid vaccines approved in the USA, which would be the Pfizer, Moderna, & Johnson & Johnson vaccines, in no particular order. Since those vaccines were used less in most places outside of the continental United States, there would be little risk of infecting anyone who resided beyond the boundaries of the borders of the USA. Clearly the plan had begun several years prior to what the CCP was orchestrating now. Additionally, the Big Pharma industry must have involvement, & although astounded by the awareness of other shadowy globalist actors, along with the secrecy kept due to impressive compartmentalization, who was Dr. Shuyi to ponder these notions, to ask questions, or think for himself? He was no one, certainly not an individual, but only a tool, & in China, you do what you’re told without question & think only of total obedience to the State, & so Dr. Shuyi embraced his task, & continued with his instructional orders.
There needed to be a incubation period of one to two weeks, then after incubation ended, the virus needed to exit the host body. It would be made to spread quickly throughout the bloodstream, eventually stopping the heart, then exiting said host body through pores on the skin, to go airborne, & then spread quickly, infecting everyone within a one to two mile radius who had been jabbed, as the terminology goes in the West. This virus must perform precisely as it was designed, so as not to spread in an out-of-control rampant manner, & possibly mutating. Additionally, & this was of highest importance, the virus needed to be fire-resistant, because unknown to Dr. Shuyi, this would be the means utilized for the initial infections. A series of wildfires would be started all across the Canadian wilderness in Northern North America, from west to east. Thousands of fires would be intentionally ignited, so that the virus could be dropped into these wildfires from the air, & as the virulent smoke moved into the jet stream that stretched across the expanse of the USA, from Montana to Maine, it would prove the most effective means of contamination, drawing little to no attention to the Chinese. Of course, there were a few extraneous minor details included in the instructions given from Mr. Wang to Dr. Shuyi, as to the manner of testing, but we will get to that shortly.
At first, like any human being with a conscience, Dr. Shuyi was struck by a sense of sadness that he could not openly express or share, by the directions given to him by Mr. Wang. The doctor, with a blank expression, had dedicated his life to bio-engineering viruses & bacteria that would prove beneficial to humanity, not destructive, but he had no choice. He loved his country, his people, & much more than that, his own family. Mr. Wang wasn’t asking Dr. Shuyi though, he was ordering him to do this, & left some pictures of his wife, & his two sons, telling Dr. Shuyi that if he wanted his family to be safe, he would do as he was told. Dr. Shuyi let Mr. Wang know that he did not need to be reminded of this, & would begin the project immediately, for the love of the CCP, & the future of the Chinese people. He was then blindfolded again, taken back to his office, & the entire event had seemingly ended as abruptly as it began, all taking place within the span of an hour. In one short hour, Dr. Shuyi’s life had taken a complete turn, but not for the worse, or the better, because it was all about perspective. He could not think of anything other than completing the task given. From the view of the Americans, China was the enemy, the unquestionable dominant adversary, but from the view of his own country, the USA was the true enemy, the great antagonist, a nemesis representing the greatest of threats to the Chinese Communist Party & the Chinese way of life. If Dr. Shuyi succeeded, he would be a hero, forever remembered in future history, as a savior of the Chinese homeland. Also, he & his family would not only remain alive, they would be honored, & so, he walked to his lab to begin immediately, quickly having all of his prior work removed by his assistants, leaving the lab entirely new, a proverbial blank slate, so to speak, for him to begin this new assignment. This would be the only assignment, in all likelihood, Dr. Shuyi would ever work on again.
It only took a week, just the span of a week, for testing to begin on various compounds he had created. The CCP notoriously used homeless vagrants as derelict test subjects, which was common practice, as they offered no benefit to the State, & no one would question their sudden disappearance. The recruiters, as it were, handed out pamphlets to the street people, telling them that it was a new “medicine,” designed to help them recover their lost lives from poverty & destitution, as if they had a choice in the matter. Quickly, “volunteers” showed up in droves, providing Dr. Shuyi with more-than-enough subjects to test the the various concoctions on, until the perfect virus was discovered & isolated. Over the next week, countless subjects were infected with the different compounds that Dr. Shuyi had created. The subjects were placed inside a sealed room with a single chair, told to sit down, & to breathe normally, as something akin to Chinese elevator music played from an unseen speaker. The potential viruses were then put into condensers inside of special ovens, which cooked at a temperature similar to the heat of a wildfires. The soft white smoke would then flow through the air ducts that led into the sealed room where the test subjects sat. The subjects would inhale the smoke, then be placed into a quarantine room which connected to the testing room via a single airtight door, so as to allow the virus to incubate.
Around the one-to-two week mark, after the test subjects were initially infected, the effects began, & all sorts of horrifying conditions began to develop. After the incubation ended, as intended, the virus spread rapidly through the bloodstream, searing the arteries as it traveled, which to the test subjects, felt as though they were burning to death from the inside out. They’d convulse & writhe, in unimaginable agonizing pain as this happened, making the seconds feel like eternities. Upon exiting their bodies through the pores on their skins, the viruses would rupture the pores, emitting blackened pus, like little volcanoes, as the thousands of individually necrotic eruptions created a hell that no man would wish upon his worst enemy. It would take 1-2 minutes for the subjects to go through the viral mechanism, which felt like series of tortuous lifetimes in their minds, as each pore burned & corroded, allowing the various test viruses to escape into the open air, & once the subjects were dead, the entire room was incinerated with a special gelatinous gas, insuring that the viruses could not escape the testing room, while also “sanitizing” the room before the next test subject was brought in.
These test trials went on for a few months , & then one day, Mr. Wang showed up in Dr. Shuyi’s laboratory. He asked Dr. Shuyi how the tests were going, & Dr. Shuyi, with a nervousness in his voice, told Mr. Wang that the virus was successful, but he was having difficulty keeping the virus alive upon exiting the bodies of the subjects. At best, the virus would only survive for a few seconds, before it too, would be as dead as the host body it had been birthed from. Mr. Wang then told, or rather, he demanded, that Dr. Shuyi complete the project within the next month, or one of his sons would “disappear,” & then the following month, his other son, would also, “disappear.’ Dr. Shuyi knew that there were no more options, & there was little time left, so he had to finish the project successfully, soon. He had no choice, but to increase the number of test subjects, as well as utilize more rooms to test the potential viruses in. He asked Mr. Wang to accommodate these requests, & with a nod, Mr. Wang left the room. Dr. Shuyi spent the rest of the day writing down various chemical formulas, & thinking of his family, as well as his role in this agenda, so to speak, but he knew that the clock was ticking, so he quickly unthought those thoughts to solely focus on what he had been told to do by the mysterious Mr. Wang. He did not go home that night, passing out with his head on his notebook. He had a dream, an exceptionally vivid dream, & in this dream, an answer came to him, in the form of a formulaic compound, one he had overlooked prior. When he awoke, he was told that there were 2 new rooms for testing, so now three in total, & that there were countless new subjects ready, ready to take their “medicine.” He looked down at his notebook, & recalling the dream, he began to feverishly write. As if by some divine force, as he gazed upon the notes he’d just written, & there it was, a new formula, THE new formula, but was it the right formula? He looked at the time, & the clock read, “9:25,” & so he wrote the time above this new formula he had written down…Serum-925.
Dr. Shuyi immediately began the tests, infecting 6 “patients” with control viruses, & then 3 more of them with Serum-925. The test subjects were then placed in the observation rooms, 3 to a room, as the incubation period began, & all Dr. Shuyi could do was wait. A week went by, & the subjects showed no signs of the infection, as they read books, & watched the State-sponsored programs being broadcast to little TVs in the corners of the rooms between the ceiling & the wall, thinking they’d been given “medicine,” a medicine that would miraculously give them a new life, one where they would be assets to the State, rather than another mouth to feed. Watching this all day & night was causing Dr. Shuyi to become very anxious…so anxious in fact, that he could nary sleep a wink. This first week seemed infinite, & with no symptoms showing themselves, Dr. Shuyi again began to worry about his family, & what would happen to them if Serum-925 didn’t work as directed, but as always, he quickly shrugged those thoughts away, because he knew he needed to focus on a positive result, & nothing else. As mentioned earlier, however, the incubation period ran from one to two weeks, so there was still time, still one week to go. Dr. Shuyi had come so far, & the formulaic equations he had written down came together perfectly, like a completed jigsaw puzzle, yet still, no symptoms, no changes, nothing. He occasionally listened to the random conversations that the test subjects were having amongst themselves. They often talked about the new lives they’d lead once “cured,” & their devotion to the State for “fixing” their failed & wretched lives. “Mice,” the good doctor said to himself, “they are only mice, here to be tested & disposed of as mice are,” trying to convince himself that they were not men, but mice. Deep down, he knew he was lying to himself, along with reflecting on his own inhumanity, as he viewed the final days of these mens’ lives, & thought of his own inhumane disposition at what he was doing…what kind of doctor could go along with such a thing? As always though, he pushed these self-realizations aside, burying them, never to be resurrected, for he was soon to be a deliverer, a great conservator for the State, or dead, along with his family, who he so desperately loved.
The second week began & day one of week two was dreadful for Dr. Shuyi; the “patients” were still the same, content & healthy, no changes. Onto day two, still nothing, day three went by, & STILL, no symptoms. A small television was inside Dr. Shuyi’s laboratory, always broadcasting state-sponsored news media, the same as what the test subjects were watching, mainly about the power of the CCP, the usual stereotypical communist propaganda, along with occasional scripted “news” stories, that more-often-than-not, glorified the State in one way or another. However, something came on that caught Dr. Shuyi’s attention. A series of wildfires had erupted all across Canada, & not just a few, there were THOUSANDS of them, stretching across the entire country, from British Columbia to Quebec. There were so many fires in fact, that the whole of the country appeared to be on fire, & Dr. Shuyi quickly realized, that the plan to spread the virus across North America, had begun. The clock was ticking, & ticking fast, as though time itself was speeding up, & Dr. Shuyi knew that his time was running out.
Day four came, & Dr. Shuyi, eyes wide from insomnia, could barely write anymore, as his hands were shaking from tremors, due to the lack of sleep. His mind was a jumbled mess, a mix of anxiety, anger, depression, but most of all, fear, for he was afraid that if he failed, he would never see his family alive again. Why wasn’t the virus working as intended? He had gone over the formulas he had written down, over & over & over again, & he just couldn’t rationalize what was going wrong. He pounded his fists on the table, & the force of the thud, turned over his stained & near-empty coffee cup on the desk, spilling what was left of the cold coffee, which formed a small puddle at the edge of his desk, & began to drip onto the floor. Dr. Shuyi watched it drip for a moment, staring, as he once again, thought about his family. He then snapped out of his gaze, & walked over to grab some paper towels to clean up the mess. Just then, a sound went off from the loudspeaker, & the voice on the other side, notified Dr. Shuyi that the process was beginning, & that the test subjects were starting to convulse. Dr. Shuyi stopped what he was doing, leaving the paper towel he was grabbing half-torn, as well as the spilled coffee, & rushed to the observation room to watch what was happening. He felt a rush of excitement overcome him, utterly disregarding the fact that more human test subjects were about to experience a most-violent death, as he could only feel happy that his family might be saved, should the virus survive.
The exhaustion from all the sleeplessness, along with the symptoms of insomnia, subsided, as Dr. Shuyi hurriedly ran to the observation area, which was a room, with a series of chairs, & a 2-way mirror for the viewers to view the test subjects, as they died in agony from the various compounds they had been exposed to. The fact that these human test subjects were dying a horrible death mattered not, nor did the potential for billions to die in the same manner, as Dr. Shuyi could only think of his family, & that his success ensured their survival, as well as his own. Strange the way the mind works, isn’t it? How could one be “happy,” when billions of lives were at stake? Still, as always, these kinds of thoughts escaped Dr. Shuyi, as he eagerly watched the test subjects writhing on the floor, screaming in terror, as the post-incubated virus began painfully working its way through the blood of these “patients,” seeking to escape from these human test subjects’ convulsing bodies, through each & every pore on their skin. The shock of it all, to any “normal” person, would be unbearable to watch, particularly to a doctor, yet Dr. Shuyi gleefully continued to observe, as the subjects’ pores began to erupt the virus, those tiny little volcanoes, spewing out the blackened pus, as the subjects gasped one final time before their hearts stopped . Fortunately, the room was soundproof, & Dr. Shuyi could not hear their screams, or the last gasping. If he had, perhaps he might’ve had a moment of clarity, a revelation, that what he was doing was not only wrong, it was pure evil, but all he heard was the surreal sound of silent shrieking. It took roughly 90 seconds for the subjects to stop moving, & now was the moment of truth for Dr. Shuyi, for if the virus had died along with the test subjects, he & his family would be dead as well, but if the virus had survived, Dr. Shuyi would become legendary, a permanent hero, for the only God he knew, the CCP.
The time had come, & some men in biohazard suits with various instruments, began entering the room via a decontamination walkway of sorts. First, they needed to flip the bodies of the test subjects over, as they had all perished face down. They needed to get to the vital organs, as well as take blood samples, tissue samples, etc. The subjects had left a mess on the floor, which was now stained with the blackened pus, one of them leaving a haunting handprint, which Dr. Shuyi noticed from the observation room, & for a fleeting moment, some minuscule sense of humanity overcame him, as he thought about his own son, the youngest one, making handprint art for him only a few months prior. The shouts from the testers in the biohazard suits quickly flushed those thoughts away, however, as Dr. Shuyi had finally gotten the news he had been so anxiously awaiting to hear. The virus was alive, virulently alive, aggressively healthy, yearning to survive & thrive within another victim. Dr. Shuyi was instantly ecstatic, consumed with joy, the joy of all that was to come for him, & his family, with zero inclinations as to what this meant for the human race. A few more tests would be needed, for sure, but Dr. Shuyi knew that Mr. Wang would be quite pleased that Dr. Shuyi had been successful in the task he was given. He would be honored, taking his place among the historic halls of distinguished heroes, a savior of the Chinese Communist Party, for the rest of time, & his family would be at his side, glorified eternally as well by the Chinese people, HIS people.
The fires in Canada continued to rage, most of them uncontrollably now, & the smoke was covering cities in the United States from Bismarck to Manhattan, riding the current of the jet stream. Only the Western part of the United States was spared the smoke from these wildfires, thanks to the wind shear courtesy of the Rocky Mountains, sloping the western half of the country from New Mexico to Montana. News reports in the United States had begin to warn residents of the air quality, & blamed the wildfires on “lightning strikes,” but none of them had a clue as to what really created this country-wide inferno engulfing much of Canada, as well as what was really about to come from these intentionally set fires. Setting the fires was easy, but getting Serum-925 virus into these fires, would be another feat in itself. Meanwhile, Dr. Shuyi had been reunited with his family, who he held close for several minutes, so long that his wife showed a glint of concern as to why Dr. Shuyi, a normally expressionless man, suddenly seemed so cheerfully happy to see them all, as if he hadn’t seen them in a very long time. She had no idea of what he had done, or how close she & her children had been to being “disappeared,” via the orders of Mr. Wang. Dr. Shuyi had always been a loving father, but when the tears of joy fell at the sight of seeing them alive, his wife knew that something was different, but as was common with Chinese wives, she asked no questions & showed no concern, simply assuming that Dr. Shuyi had done something great for not only his family, but for the country. Unconditional love & total devotion to the State was primary in China, above all else, & as the adoration from CCP members began to befall Dr. Shuyi & his family, Dr. Shuyi’s wife got caught up in the moment, & quickly forgot about the tears that her husband had shed upon reuniting with his family.
Across the ocean in the United States, breaking news reports began to be broadcast, reports of unidentified balloons flying high above the western parts of North America, first from Alaska, & then from northwest British Columbia, & then down to Montana. The objects were still unidentified, only that they looked to be “balloons” of some kind, & that there were several, slowly moving east, as they drifted into the interior of Canada, & then down into the Continental United States, following the jet stream. What the news reports did not report, however, was that these were the dispensing mechanisms for the Serum-925 virus, & that the balloons were moving into position, to do just that, dispense this deadly virus. A series of canister’s on the underside of the balloons, which had now been successfully guided by GPS via radio frequencies into strategically proper positions, began releasing the Serum-925 virus into the atmosphere above the wildfires. The virus fell into the clouds of smoldering smoke from the raging flames below, which was heavier than the air, & as the smoke lost altitude, it descended with the ash, now contaminated with the very-much-alive Serum-925 virus, & began to cover American & Canadian cities.
Quickly, the pathogen, created in a lab by the great guardian of the CCP, Dr. Shuyi, began to infect the human populations below, unknowingly, as the “vaccinated” people below breathed in what they thought to be smoky air, but only the air of wildfires, as was common at this time of the year when wildfires annually occurred. Surprisingly, few wore masks, which was a stark contrast to the mass psychosis displayed by mask-wearers during the Covid epidemic. This went on for a week, then week two began, as Americans rallied to celebrate the 4th of July, ironically a celebration of freedom & independence. What the North American public did not know, was that the Serum-925 virus had been inhaled now, by millions of them, millions who were so desperate to get the jab during Covid, as well as many of them getting “boosted,” preparing them for the real Chinese-created pandemic, which would undoubtedly, kill them all once the incubation of the virus came to fruition, for lack of a better term. The Serum-925 virus entered their bodies, through the mouth & nose, down into the lungs, to incubate, before it awakened, so to speak, & began to violently erupt, from each & every pore on their skin, like the little volcanos that Dr. Shuyi witnessed from the observation room, expelling the black pus magma, leaving the gruesome handprint on the floor, from the last “patient” he would ever treat. So began the end, the end of us, the end of these United States of America.
“For all of you, & for none of you at all.” by Fish F. Fish🎏
In this centralized modern era, where cancel culture & AI algorithms have combined to censor anyone deemed to be a virtual thought-criminal, it is exceptionally difficult to use social media effectively, as well as find a job, once the Orwellian thought police have you in the their proverbial pocket. Many job-seekers go to Indeed to search for employment, with zero inclination that even job-hunting sites such as Indeed, utilize bias to quietly discriminate against those who do not bend the knee. Yours truly discovered this, mere hours ago, & so, being one who does NOT bend the knee, & is hellbent on exposing TRUTH, decided to write about it, so that all of you know what I know, especially if you are also looking for a new job via Indeed. Would you like to know how Indeed discriminates? Great question, thanks for playing.
Of course you’d like to know, & thus, I’ll tell you. I wish I could’ve screen-grabbed the evidence, but I did not, so you’ll just have to try this out on your own, so you can see with your own eyes, rather than read my illustration of said discrimination. This is the best I can do however, dear readers, & since it’s not very complicated to explain, this shouldn’t take long on my end. As you search for jobs, you may notice that right AFTER you submit your application, a “survey” pops up from Indeed, not the employer. It seems random, yes, & unimportant, but I can assure you, it most certainly IS important, so important in fact, that I am considering contacting an attorney about the matter. If you’ve clicked on a few jobs, you may notice that PRIOR to the final submission of your application, the respective company will ask your race, sex, disability status, & veteran status…the infamous EOE questions, which are usually optional. If you happen to be a white male, as yours truly is, & you answer accordingly, you might think nothing of it, since they specifically state that “your answers will not be seen by the employer.”
True, the hiring company will not see, but the Indeed AI sees, for the AI sees all at this point, & the Indeed AI keeps your answers, & uses them to show which jobs you can, & cannot see. If you answer white male, non-disabled, & not a veteran consistently, you will get fewer jobs, SIGNIFICANTLY fewer jobs, that will pop up on your job search. Now, back to that after-submission Indeed survey. Besides the EOE “optional” questions added by the potential employers, which as I said, they do not see, but the AI sees, if you answer that survey, honestly, you will never see jobs from companies that might hire you, limiting the options you have to gain successful employment in a field that you might be highly-skilled at. For months, & months, & months, I kept seeing the same jobs, over & over, in addition to seeing limited numbers of possible jobs that might pique my interest. Finally, however, earlier today, I decided to click the AFTER-submittal Indeed survey that pops up. When I did, it asked those same EOE questions, as well as my pronouns, sexual orientation, & a few others that revealed my personal information, greater to an extent than those random EOE questions from the employer posts that come up in the searches. What did I do once I clicked the Indeed survey?
Again, another great question, you’re great at this. I clicked the Indeed survey, & answered that I was a non-binary, Native American, pronouns they/them, gender-fluid, homosexual, & I few more that I cannot exactly recall, but you get the point, yes? I went as “woke” as I could go, & clicked “Submit,” & what do you think might’ve happened once I did that? Upon doing a new job search, with the same exact queries I used before, I got not only more jobs, not only hundreds of more jobs, but thousands, yes THOUSANDS more jobs that were previously hidden from me popped up. The Indeed AI had been using the employer-posted EOE questions to determine I was a straight white non-disabled male with he/him pronouns to severely limit my search results, but when I answered their little survey, with the answers I illustrated above, suddenly THOUSANDS more jobs popped up. I am 1000% confident that this is a new method of discrimination, not only against white men, but straight white men, since one of the questions asked me directly about my sexual orientation.
It’s a fuck-up world we live in, isn’t it? As I mentioned earlier, I think I am going to have to contact a civil rights attorney, & mention this, because there could be cause for a lawsuit, a YUGE discrimination lawsuit, against Indeed, for trying to covertly do this to straight white people, particularly men, in order to keep diversity & inclusion strong in the workforce. It starts before you even get a chance to submit your resume, how fucked up is that? I’ll tell you how fucked up it is; I’ve spent months, MONTHS, job-hunting, search after search, submission after submission, to the point of extreme depression at the continuous rejection letters, as well as the same limited results popping up, day after day after day. This will not stand, & yours truly will not abide the mental damage this job searching has done to my life, especially in this horrific economy, as well as every other white person who this happened to. Nonetheless, I have now detailed what happened to me, & how I discovered this, so in the not-so-distant future, expect an update as to what the lawyer I contact will say in regards to this most-distressing issue. There has to be a point where enough is enough is enough, & that time has come. So sayeth FisH™…🎏
A red-pill dropping friend of mine, one of my only friends left, recently said to me, “Can’t change a dud, can’t fix a dud, doesn’t matter who it is, a dud’s a dud,” & he was right. He has an unusual knack for accuracy, & although he wasn’t directing that phrase at me, per se, he’s right, duds are duds. Some people come out attractive, people like them, they have a talent that they hone, with encouragement, & support, from friends & family, & then some come out the opposite. Some of us just get our asses kicked and/or ignored, especially kids from broken homes, like yours truly. It boils down to good parenting really, & responsible family planning, rather than a bunch of fuckabouts, used-car salesmen men, women with baby rabies, getting hammered, in the same place, then whoops, there’s a kid, how did that happen? Duh. What the fuck are people thinking anymore? Seriously, I wonder what the percentage is, of us who got here unplanned, does anyone know? After going what I went through, & now in my mid-40s, holy hell, SO many random kids were conceived via random drunken sex, it’s ridiculous. Often when that happens, especially nowadays, the real dad doesn’t stick around, of course, & now there’s a nation of fatherless kids with single moms that think it’s trendy to have a kid that’s “queer.” Such a backwards-ass fucked-up world we’ve turned this all into; I mean, come on, talk about ruining a society in record time, we’ve done it, & I’m still shaking my fucking head.
Empowered single women, so independent & powerful, right?….& fathers not needed, just sperm donors, or at least, that’s the ridiculous notion that was fostered long enough to create an entire generation that is few & far between when the real dad actually sticks around. Who’d wanna deal with a twat like that, minus the simp army? Plenty of simps, but all the girls want Chad, so these single moms get desperate, delusional desperate, so desperately delusional, in fact, it’s downright mental, scrambling around for a Chad on Tinder to play insta-dad, actively deluding themselves into believing it’s all just like it was before Pookie left his behbeh with her, then dipped. No worries though, he left behbeh Pookie, as a reminder of her stupidity, which works out great for the kid later on in life, I’m sure. Every time she looks at that kid, she sees Pookie, & how do you think that disgust projects toward the kid, particularly in the way she “raises” him. Tragic. You can thank “hook-up culture” for that, & body countdoesn’t matter, right? It’s all degenerate filthy behavior. Great environments for kids you slutbag single moms. Ugh. Maybe try keeping your legs closed? Just a thought. You know how babies are made, yes? You knew what you were doing, yes?…so don’t act like it’s a “man’s fault.” Enough with that bullshit, not to mention with the advent of online dating, you slags just pick out men like an All-You-Can-Eat buffet, ugh, it’s fucking disgusting. I threw my hat on the rack a few years back & decided it’s just not worth it to pick it up again. Why would I? Who wants to compete with countless other dudes saying the same bullshit to the same girl that you are? Who wants to share, in such a manner. Don’t fool yourself, she’s heard it all by this age if she’s still single & childless, & if she IS still single & childless, it’s because she’s batshit crazy. Men, listen up; YOU CANNOT WIN. Virtue is dead, & so is the sanctity of pussy as a whole. It’s dead, dead & gone, & women killed it. Do NOT forget that fact, that WOMEN killed it, not men, so if you’ve been blaming yourself, and/or thinking it’s you, take a deep breath, exhale, & listen to what I am about to tell you…it’s NOT you, it’s not them, it’s what the powers-that-be have done, to divide everyone, even the sexes, how about them apples?
Yep, what better way to destroy the nuclear family than to not only divide men & women, but to do it while simultaneously, & overtly, promoting homosexuality as a good thing, do you not see how this all fits into a larger depopulation agenda? It’s “trendy” to have a “queer” kid now, did you read where I wrote that earlier? TRENDY, to have a son that’s a fag, or a daughter that says she’s a boy, let’s abide the notions of a CHILD, makes sense right? WRONG, no, it makes ZERO sense, but since everything is backwards here in this hell Clownworld timeline we’re all in, apparently, it makes perfect sense. Considering that most of the global populous is in a state of hypno-psychosis, & the television programs them to believe whatever they’re told, most of the aforementioned global populous, are actually not only agreeing with this ridiculous queer theory bullshit, they are celebrating it alongside these mental patients who are living it in real time, topping it all off by including children. Pedo-duds, pedo-duds everywhere, & everyone of them wearing shirts that say, “I love pedo-duds,” proverbially of course, as I’m sure you get that I was being facetious there, right? Yep, beautifully “brave & stunning” rainbows, & that’s gonna show these straight white supreme pizzas what’s what, isn’t it? Derp, but regardless of how abysmally ridiculous all of that sounds, most people go along with it, if you can believe it. Yes, it’s truly shameful to see how unbelievably fickle & naive the human race has become, as a whole. Obey, consume, watch tv, work, repeat, & you all follow along. Follow in line like duds, duds in a row. Good band name, yes? (Announcer voice) “Please welcome to the stage, all the way from Bumfuck, in the middle of Nowhere, let’s make some noise for Duds in a Row,” then 4 people clap, but I digress. Wait a second Mr. Fancy Pants, what makes me so special? How am I not a dud? Do duds know they’re duds? Am I a dud, jumping off that figurative cliff in real time, like most dud lemmings?
Duh, of course I am, does it sound like I know how to do anything else other than spew drivel like this, much less act like a man for fuck’s sake? Hell no, I’m useless, as much of a dud as much as anyone else, worse so even, if I may be so humble about my utter unworthiness. I wasted my life on drugs, only to snap out of it 2 decades too late & realize how much I fucked-off my life. I have no skills, other than this, if this is even considerable as a merit-worthy skill, no kids, no job, nowhere to live that I can call my own, nothing. I have nothing, NOTHING, other than my own buzz, reminding me that I’m still alive, but why? What am I “living” for? I’m not dying for anything, but what I living for? Nothing, except my cat, my art, & myself. What’s that worth? My cat is a gem, he needs to explanation. My art stinks apparently, since no one has the balls to hire me, and/or just realizes my suckitude at writing, while I stay oblivious, I don’t know. As far as living for myself, pffffttt…I’m nothing, less than zero, & each day I wake up, wake back up here, here in Clownworld, & I cannot wait to get tired enough to go back to sleep, as if that’s a healthy way to live. It isn’t, & I know, but damnit, I got nothing left. Tried to get a job, & I got one, a decent one, relatively, & I made it a month before I got fired. Yes, it’s my fault, as is everything else, I get it, MY fault, all on me, I got it, so to my conscience I ask, “Please stop reminding me every ½ second of this fact.” Geez, I fucking get it, but yet my brain just won’t shut up. “Loser, failure, wasted talent, without skills, a dud, a DUD,” I get it damn you. Gah, this fucking voice in my head, like it’s not even my own. “Loser, loser, addict, dud, waste, no one cares, loser, dud, failure,” over & over & over, OKAY, I GET IT. Dang, no one is harder on me than myself, NO ONE, not even close, & I wonder where this harsh drill sergeant in my head could’ve manifest from? Maybe due to all of my parents being regimented military types? People who like and/or need discipline, to be told what to do, respect the hierarchy, abide the chain of command, to be yelled at, always yelling, everyone yelling, usually at me, until I yell back, & then it becomes cyclical, everyone always yelling, my whole life, YELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLING, gah, how about just shut the fuck up?…but np, no quiet for me. everyone wants to yell, yell at me, & I don’t know why, so I don’t want to be around anyone anymore. Nope, I just want to write, & paint, & that’s all, that’s all for the dud of duds, yours truly.
Is this how it goes? Is this how it was before? Have I been here before? Have I done this already? Am I cursed to be repeating this, whatever this is, until something changes? Maybe I’ve killed myself before, & I have to keep coming back & repeating this until I hold on until the actual end? How the fuck should I know? I know that when I go to sleep, I have dreams where I am somewhere else, somewhere I’ve never been, but somehow know better than anywhere I’ve ever been in real life. There are people there, people I know, people I love & vice versa, but I’ve never met these people here, in the “real world.” My mind there in that space is even different, & I have mo memories of this world, or this life, as if this, THIS is the dream. I don’t know, maybe it is, maybe it’s something I can’t understand yet, or maybe it’s nothing, & when you die, no matter how or why or when, it’s just black, a void of nothing, until you wake back up again in some new body, all just a fresh slate, no relation to the last incarnation, just universal time doing its thing, all of it unrandomly random, organized chaos, & perhaps the Universe likes it that way…just random. Planned randomness, or maybe it’s like music, that organized vibrational geometry that when heard by our own ears, can sound as beautiful as heaven sometimes. The language of music, as well as music theory, should be taught to every child as a 2nd language of sorts, but of course, it isn’t. Kids are so deprived of all they could be learning, most of them just plopped in front of a tv, and/or a tablet, some kind of screen that isn’t a canvas, is my point. No no no, we need them to shut up & obey, not explore & learn for themselves & ask questions & such. How dar I suggest that kids exploit their preciously feeling time to better themselves in a real way, rather than polluting them with broadcasts on a screen that each them nothing except how to celebrate rainbows & queerness. Like I said, this is a backwards timeline, a hell, hell to me anyway, & I’d wager I’m not alone in feeling this way.
Well, I had no plan to write what I wrote, but I’m glad I did, because this concept of “duds,” seems systemic, doesn’t it? I’m not into eugenics, per se, because the ones that are the “eugenicists,” scumfucks like Billl Gates, are the ones that “pick & choose,” so to speak, & that doesn’t jive with me. However, in the bigger picture, I understand why they want to impose a eugenic manner of breeding into this world. From their perspective, it’s two very different worlds, the duds & the not-duds. THEIR world, the one they perceive as not-duds, is made of of pedigreed, centuries-long bloodlines, while most of us, the “duds,” came about via the haphazard manners I detailed earlier most of the time, are mostly unplanned, have no inclinations toward a “pedigree” or something similar, just as random as it gets, when two dummies delude themselves into believing they’re in love, after meeting for one night, & then whoops, out you come 9 ¾ months later. Obviously, not everyone, but for many, you got here “by accident.” Nope, there was no real planning, your dad was just too lazy to pull out when your mom told him, “Just do it, it’ll be okay.” Uh oh, you got snuck chump, by listening to her & not listening to your own gut instinct. Of course, once your kid gets here, things change, & maybe, just maybe, your kid won’t be a dud, like you. Most duds, unfortunately for the kids, don’t know they’re duds, & so their kids become duds, since apples don’t fall from their respective trees, as the saying goes.
Anyway, I’ve had enough of this article. Duds are duds, & some of us don’t realize it ever, most in fact, but a few of us get it. Yep, we know, we’re duds, we come from duds, from a town called Dudville, born to be duds, & when our firecrackers never explode into a starburst of light & color, only then do we realize, we were always duds, & all that time believing your fireworks will light up the sky, was in the most naive form of vanity one can imagine. just a sad display of narcissism, but like I said, at least some of us get it, albeit late in life, but nonetheless, yep, I suppose now I get it. Is what it is, right Fishheads? Until next time dear readers, in a world of duds, the one who lights up the sky wins. So sayeth FisH™…🎣
For all of you, & for none of you at all…🐡
“In a world of duds, light up the sky.” Fish F Fish🎏
“One without purpose, is a dud, so what makes your fire crack?” Fish F Fish🎏
If you’re looking at my full site on a desktop or laptop, you’ll notice the new “DONATE” option on the top-right side of my site, with either a QR code you can scan, or you can just click the link below the QR code to send some money to my PayPal. Unfortunately for this poor bloated floating fish, the powers-that-be took everything I had, like literally everything, leaving me stone broke, as broke as handless clock. Sam Bankman Fried & his nerdy minions, & several other nefarious players in the shadows, these Capstone Clubber elitist dorks, proverbially killed me, & killed many other investors, & despite his “arrest,” 99% of the criminals involved in the big crypto Ponzi scheme are going to get away clean, as usual. Seemingly, it was in my control…my investments were there one day, I had it, I DID it, I fucking EARNED it, I was WAYYYYYYYY up in the green, so I held onto said investments, with those “diamond hands” that everyone was so jazzed about when crypto was up, got them”‘diamond hands,” to hold on through anything, & POOF, my smooth diamond hands turned to decrepit hands of wet clay, when they crashed all the markets, some to OVER 100% retracement, & my “diamond hands” just fell apart into nothing, NOTHING. It all just melted away into NOTHING, & they fucking left me with NOTHING, not even gas money, food money, Dollar Tree money, NOTHING. I have NOTHING now, & it has broken me not only financially, but mentally & spiritually as well. Broken, broke, nothing. Sandy castles washed away with the waning tide of time.
Yep, 2022 can eat a big bag of herpified shlongs, & so can these market-manipulating elitist scumfucks that take & take & take for themselves, printing all the fiat money they want, using algorithms to alter market movements, for themselves of course, & we peasants get nothing but wrecked. THEY PRINT MONEY FOR THEMSELVES FOR FUCK’S SAKE, WHILE THE PEASANTS SLAVE AWAY ON THE 9 TO 5, 40-HOUR WORK WEEK LIVING-FOR-THE-WEEKEND GRIND, THEY JUST PRINT THE MONEY THEY NEED FOR THEMSELVES, & YOU DON’T GET A FUCKING PENNY. How does that make you feel? How does it feel to know that this money the you bust your ass for, for a shitty bi-weekly over-taxed paycheck, how does it feel to know that these elites just print the same money for themselves as needed? They don’t work for it, they just print it, so why should I, or you, or anyone for that matter, “work” for the same currency that they just endlessly print for themselves? Why? Fuck that notion, it’s absurd, but since most of you have ZERO clue who Sam Bankman Fried is, or what these elites do for their wealth, while you burn away your life for table scraps, they just keep doing what they do, & so do most of you. Such blind compliance, it’s staggeringly mind-blowing to me, & that being the case, why would they stop? Would you? Tough question, isn’t it? If you could just print all the money you needed, and/or steal it from the poor like they do, what would you do? I don’t know what I’d do, to be honest, but I can assure you that I would certainly NOT be doing what these so-called “elites” are doing. How could I be? I have a soul, & since these psychopaths at the top of the food chain are soulless, I guess I’m doomed to stay down here, in the gutter, like the sewer rat I am, running left, right, left, right through the maze in The Great Mouse Trap, now begging for the same cheese-bait fiat money via online-crowdfunding means, just so I can keep running. There’s no way out of this trap, even when we invest wisely, & when we do, what do these evil fuckers do? They crash all the markets in a controlled demolition, & if you weren’t one of those sinister few on the inside, you got hosed, just like me. WRECKED…BILLIONS of dollars, gone, & like I just said, it wasn’t just me. I feel for the others who got squashed, I really do, because this feeling of having NOTHING fucking sucks. NO options, NO ability to make moves, I’m stealing to eat for Christ’s sake, it’s no bueno, & this is so insane what has happened to the crypto community, just madness, they took us all to the moon, then shit us all out back down to bread crumbs in the Sahara desert, without a drop of water left to drink. Not to mention, there will be ZERO reckoning coming for us either, NOTHING, nothing will fix what happened, NOTHING, NOTHING will ever change what they did to us. They wrecked us, period, massacred us all financially, & definitely ruined yours truly dear readers, dropped me right into one notch above homelessness.
Nope, this broke-ass FisH™ has nothing left…NOTHING. No more precious metals, all GONE, no more crypto money, all GONE, barely enough in the bank account to buy a loaf of bread. All I have left is THIS, this composition composed of essentially what amounts to digital begging, flying my sign for money, like a bum at an intersection. I hate it, fuck I fucking hate this, I hate being broke, but mostly being brok-EN. Money is just money, but my spirit, torn in two, & I don’t know how to glue it back together. I hate what they did to everyone, all of us crypto traders, a year ago so hopeful for the future, SO hopeful, such a good feeling it was, all of us winning for a change, man it felt great, riding that warm wave. Sadly though, we’re all now just floating in the frigid ocean of fiscal ruin, after the “unsinkable” crypto market hit that man-made iceberg, & these evil fuckers steered the ship right into it, BOOM, head-on collision, & down, down, down she went, taking all of us delusional “diamonds hands” idiots with her. Yes, I said “idiots,” because the “diamond hands” concept is as idiotic as it gets, now in retrospect…duh, & I wholeheartedly admit that I was an idiot for believing in it. The “madness of crowds,” so delusional, WE GOT STRAIGHT WRECKED YOU NAIVE MUPPETS, myself included, for I’m as muppetous as any of you, since they got me too, & got me good, so I have no excuse, THEY GOT ME, because I let them get me, & there’s not a fucking thing I can do about it. Ultimately, I guess it’s on me, right? Everything , all MY fault, mine alone, & no one else is to blame except my own gullible self. The crypto crash ruined my entire life, & threw me into my own living hell, a spiraling severe depression, my soul crucified then crushed. Although I’m trying my best to crawl back up, these slimy sordid walls won’t let me move, & I just slide back down to the bottom of the well. It’s truly self-spirit-slaughtering, & apparently, I have no way out this time. They really fucked me, God-damnit they really fucking fucked me those fucking fucks. Ugh. “It is what it is,”…isn’t that the appropriate phrase here? Or maybe “that’s just how it is,” since that’s one of my favorites because it really makes me want to dropkick any/every given “elitist” piece of shit who was in on these orchestrated market crashes, & got rich by making everyone else go broke. Oh man, I would love to cross paths with one of you motherfuckers. Someday God, PLEASE let me be in the same room with one, just ONE of them, I just need to get my hands on one of them, so I can squeeze the truth out of their rat-fink faces while they beg me to let go. Are you listening God? Anyone up there? Anyone? Hello? (crickets)
Not a chance, God never listens to a fucking word I say. You have to rely on YOU, because God only seems to help THEM, not US. Look at all this degeneracy, people making millions from being whores, whoring themselves out in one way or another to get paid. Psychopathic mental patients, usually uber-woke too, are making MILLIONS, living like royalty, while most of us slave away another day & call that “life.” No, that is NOT “life,” not to me anyway, & this is not a fucking joke, because these assholes are ruining society, destroying people, decimating their lives, hurting people in ways that no doctor can ever fix. Yes, this corrupted market manipulation kills us, kills families, taking their life savings like they’re taking a penny from the need-a-penny jar. It’ll just be gone, GONE, just like that, & there will be no retribution, no reparations, NOTHING, it’s all just taken, gone, & you can’t do a thing about it. Fuck me, I’m lucky it’s ONLY me & my cat in my case, because if I had a family to support, I’d be 10x more fucked than I am now, contemplating criminal activities to feed my family, if I had one. THERE ARE MANY family-life-types, who are/were investors, who are truly fucked right now, absolutely fucked, because of corrupt elitist scum manipulating markets. Not just markets either, they manipulate everything, EVERYTHING, at the expense of “the little guy,” who they ultimately slaughter like a spring lamb with zero remorse for the lives they’ve destroyed, all to get themselves ahead in the power game they play at the top of the pyramid. I had a plan, a real plan, this vision I had, my dream, & I was going to do really good things with the money I had made, really great things. I was counting on myself to help a lot of people out, & these malevolent twats just took it, like I was nothing, leaving me feeling like an absolute failure, like I am nothing, just another big-time loser peasant, who lost a once-in-a-lifetime chance to finally change my life into a life of total creation, creating amazing things for those handful of people I actually care about. Now it’s just, gone, while this fat fuck below pets a black behbeh.
Yes sir, that’s how she goes, it’s gone, it’s just gone, I can’t get it back, & I can’t do a fucking thing to change it. So, if you are NOT in the same situation I am in, & you have some extra loot, & of course, you’re inclined to help, feel free to hit up those links to on the right side of my site over there, & drop some shekels into my PayPal to help feed the FisH™. A year ago, I would’ve thought you were insane if you had told me I’d be where I am right now, but now that NOW is here, & I am where I am, I guess the only “insane” one the whole time was me, totally insane to think they’d ever let me keep the money I made. Nope, they said, “Fuck you Fish you plebeian bitch, you will never have money, we will NEVER let you win, or help your family, or change your life for the better, nope, you’re a fucking loser, you’ll always be a loser, WE pick the winners, & you’re no winner you loser. You’ll NEVER win, so fuck off you little rodent.” Okay then, so it is, & I’m the rodent, not a fish, yep, that’s what yours truly has been reduced to, a rodent, a greasy rat begging for money just to keep going. Wunderbar. I can’t tell you how good that self-realization makes me feel. Ouch. “Just the way it is,” though, right?
Until next time, dear readers, remember this, THEIR game is NOT our game, & like all of you, I’m stuck in The Great Mouse Trap too, only now I can barely move, because you need current to move, you need energy. These self-proclaimed “leaders” have hijacked the true energy, the real currency, & replaced it with this monetary fiat money beast system that keeps us all enslaved to it. “Just the way it is, just the way it is,” gah, I’m so fucking sick of hearing that bullshit. It’s “the way it is” because we let them keep doing it to us, but it doesn’t matter because there aren’t nearly enough of us to stop it, & the few of us that try, end up getting wrecked, our energy stolen, so we can’t continue fighting the beast. Ask Nikola Tesla about that, they left him destitute & penniless, when all he wanted to do was give everyone free energy. Enough currency for everyone, & then some, can you imagine that wonderful world, with endless free energy, can you imagine?…but nope, not while these elitist scoundrels continue to hijack the zeitgeist, & control the world via the shadows on the cave walls, & the echoes from the darkness. They took everything Tesla created, & destroyed it, all in the name of power & money. Look into it, it’s truly heartbreaking what they did to him, & it’s brutal what they continue to do to all of us. So if you can, maybe help my broke ass out, please, before…I don’t know, before I’ll simply just float away, like the rest of the fried fish floating bloated, bobbing away with the outgoing tide, left with nothing, nothing even left to breathe in this fucked-up world except the stale dead air of utter poverty. I suppose that’s “just how it is,” yes? Regardless, that’s all for now. So sayeth FisH™…🎣
For all of you, & for none of you at all…🐡
“Feed your fish, or the fishbowl with be filled with bloated floaters.” ~Fish F Fish
Ever had an earworm? I have them constantly, emphasis on “CONSTANTLY,” as in there’s ALWAYS some random song playing in my head, & I never know what it might be. Currently, it’s this song above, which is a great song, don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan of Christopher Cross, but once the loop has looped a few hundred times, it gets a bit…tedious you could say. At least I like this song, it’s the eagworms of songs you can’t stand that actually becomes frustrating once it’s gone around 1000 times on the mental jukebox. Looking right at you Taylor Swift. Her songs stick like glue for some reason I’m not aware of, or am I?
I have this running theory of sorts, & keep in mind, this is only a theory, MY theory, & my theory alone. Not saying this is true, or untrue, I am simply going to articulate my theory for you all, dear readers, with no presuppositions as to how real or unreal it is. Get it? Got it? Great, thanks for playing. Okay, are you ready, ready to hear my theory? This isn’t just off-the-cuff either, others are aware of this theory of mine, so I am not alone in with these speculations, but honestly, either no one else cares and/or no one knows enough to bother diving deeper into this particularly puzzling piece of the big pizza pie. What am I talking about already, & what is this theory for fuck’s sake?
My theory is this: Certain frequencies actually “stick” in your head, that’s right, if your ears receive specific frequencies, your brain has no choice but to process them, over & over, & music producers not only know about this, they’ve KNOWN about this, for decades, & I bet if you use your noodle, you can guess what they know, yes? By being aware of this knowledge, & utilizing it in the music they produce, they can sell more of said music, by programming the music to “stick” in people’s heads, subconsciously nearly “forcing” them, if you will, to buy the music that keeps looping in their minds, whether it’s garbage music or not. Sounds crazy, right? Not so much though when you factor in the notion that we are all constantly surrounded by EMF waves all day. What areEMF waves? They’re essentially information waves, at least in the way that they apply to this discussion, & they move through you & around you, all day, every day, 24/7. For the most part, you don’t even notice, as there is no real noticeable effect, or is there?
Perhaps there IS a noticeable effect, only you don’t notice, because it’s affecting everyone, could that be what’s happening to everyone? From earworms to depression to schizophrenia, perhaps these afflictions could ALL be the result of the endless bombardment of these EMF waves, bombing all of us nonstop, causing unprecedented medical conditions, maybe that’s the answer. I don’t know, as I am no EMF specialist, nor any kind of physicist, nor a scientist, so I admittingly have ZERO to offer you all as far as factually tested evidence for any of this. However, what I CAN offer you all, dear readers, is my own ability to critically think & rationalize potential outcomes based on probabilities. If these music producers and/or artists knew this, would they tell you? If Big Pharma had this information, upon making countless BILLIONS of dollars selling all of you “anti-depressants,” would they tell you? What answer comes to mind for you individually? If that answer is anything other than an affirmative “NO,” you might want to rethink your own thinking, but what do I know?
THAT answer is “nothing,” for I don’t know anything about anything, do I? Nope, this silly little fish is just a crazy “conspiracy theorist” with an almost prefect accuracy rate, but nope, I don’t have a clue about a damn thing, do I? Maybe not, bit nonetheless, I’m here to expose TRUTH, as much as I can, & more if possible. That’s all I do & that’s all I can do, dear readers, so until next time, think about what you’re listening to, for it could be listening to you. So sayeth FisH™…🎣
For all of you, & for none of you at all…🐡
“Whatever you’re listening to, might be listening to you.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
Writing, the key to the door, as I mentioned in the previous article, & where is this key I speak of? Well, it’s around your neck of course, like a noose with the rope cut, & the only thinking choking you, is you. Or whoever you let pull your rope. Don’t let someone else pull your rope. That’s another keeper for my “Fishisms,” good stuff. If I add my own quotes to every article I write, I should have a thick book of quotes ready to go in a few months. The math is easy, I’m easily cranking out at the very least, one article a day. So in 3 months time, that’s around 100 quotes, just at the rate of ONE lone article a day, with an addendum quote and/or quotes added at the bottom. The point is, WRITE, every day one must write, if they’re to ever consider themselves a go-to in the bullpen when the batter steps up. Can’t throw like a twerp, you gotta get that ball across the plate EVERY time, strike, strike, strike strike, strike, no balls here, strike strike, strike, strike that hot iron, & maybe send that batter back to the dugout, or give them the homerun pitch, & send them to the moon. The reality is though, you’re lucky to get a base hit, as a writer, but you gotta keep pitching, every day, strike, strike, strike. Somehow the more one writes, at least in my case, the more I write, the more doors open with my own key. What’s in those doors? Quotes, of course, for I’m on a hunt, a hunt for clever quips I can quote, that I can put in parentheses, then stamp them with a big fish, like bags of dope. Oh yes, a key for those wooden pirate’s chests, these treasure chests that contain gem quotes, & I have a key around my neck for them alright, noosed around my neck on a cheap military chain, & my noose is tight, so tight, snug right up to my neck, by thine own hand for some reason, pulling hard on my neck, saying, “Write you fucking idiot, write, write, write, you have nothing else, nothing else left, this rope has stripped you of everything, & now you have nothing, except this, we’ll leave you with your words, & your words alone, now write you stupid fuck, for it’s all were going to give you this round, in this 3d hell-train ride.”
That’s the madness I go through daily, this hydra-headed conscience of mine, it’s quite direct, isn’t it? Certainly doesn’t mince words, but maybe my conscience is doing this, putting all this relentless pressure on me to “WRITE WRITE WRITE YOU FUCKING FOOL OF FOOLS,” as much as I can, while I can, because time is running out, running out the door like Forrest Gump. I know, but it is what it is. I don’t know when my end is, do you? Could be today, tomorrow, next week, 6 months from now, 6 years from now, 60 years from now if I make it to 105(Please God no, don’t keep me here that long), but regardless, the proverbial “end,” comes for us all, there’s no escaping the ride. We all get a ticket when we’re born, a ticket for a train maybe, a train for the recently deceased, or for some it’s a ferry ticket for the dead maybe, perhaps for some it’s a private jet to heaven, I’d wager most just get on city bus pass, across town, & my ticket, my ticket says it is for a private car, like a mini-limo, the budget limo, ready to pick me up at the time of expiration, but it really doesn’t matter how you go, does it? Those are all just silly analogies I just thought up on the fly in real-time, for when you die, you die, & that’s it. I’ve had several friends go already, particularly in the last year. Not only did I lose everything material I had, I lost several good friends, all in the course of a few months in 2022, that now-wretched, cursed year. Worst year of my life by far, & I’m a former decades-long addict, so I’ve had some rough years, & maybe that’s what 2022 was all about, getting railroaded again but while sober as fuck, just to really leave the branding iron for an extra few seconds, to make sure the mark would last, stinging me, burning itself into my microchip, damn that curse, & damn that year, that year I anticipated for so very long, only to end up on the polar opposite end of the place I was trying to go. Instead of the penthouse, I ended up in a roofless doghouse, with sub-zero Colorado snow blanketing what’s left of my war-weary shell. Completely broken, minus this, this writing that I’m writing in the present, only for you to be reading in the past.
Not a matter of self-pity here, & that notion alone annoys the fuck out of me. It’s the simple realization that whatever powers-that-be, just won’t let me be. Nope, they won’t let me go, no freedom for this bloated floating fish, gonna keep you as down as down gets, “Just stay in your corner of The Great Mouse Trap, & keep delusional believing you might be guiding the other mice to the exit doors, because you aren’t, you aren’t doing anything, doing nothing at all but digital words onto digital paper for yourself, & yourself alone, you disgustingly bland narcissist. What’s the word for a narcissist who thinks he’s useless, & serves no purpose. & has complete self-awareness? Is that on a spectrum somewhere? Who is illustrating these mental disorders? Everyone is a narcissist, everyone is a gaslighter, everyone is fucked in the head essentially, to some degree nowadays, right? I don’t know, I don’t really know anything about what’s going on anymore. I’m just writing to write. Like I mentioned in the beginning, just WRITE. Whatever might be in those respective receptors in that apple atop your neck, let it go as you let it flow onto a medium, whether it be with a digital pen or a real pen, WRITE, write you fucker, WRITE, WRITE, WRITE. Jesus, like a drill instructor up there. A drill instructor bitch, that won’t shut the fuck up. Does your conscience torture you too? Geez, sorry I didn’t make it, not going anywhere, so why keep yelling at me? “WRIIIIIIIIITTTTEEEEEE, keep writing asshole,” & that’s how it is. Myself calls myself more names than have ever come out of my actual mouth, such a dick, & by myself, I’m referring to this conscience I’m stuck with of course. Is your conscience really you though? Your “Higher Self,” so to speak? Who is this fucking guy? I don’t recall meeting this person, do you? Did you ever officially meet your conscience?
See what I mean? Just WRITE. This was all off the cuff, just tune in the dial, that’s it. For me anyway, it’s almost like auto-pilot, for I don’t recall what I write, until I write it. There’s a place you go when you…go to mine words, you might say, from the Great Word Mines. You travel there I your head, & you harvest the words, the words that fit into the sentences, building & building, the word architect, albeit all this happens in some kind of accelerated space-time that seems relatively instantaneous. It’s not though, it’s a seems time bends, & there’s countless mini-thoughts between the words as to how to connect them, one by one, like dancers, they fall in line, until they bee-bop in an order that someone else who speaks this language can read. Just tune that knob, static, static, oh, what’s that? Is that a signal? Let’s let it play & see what she sounds like, all of this happening so fast, the brain is quite the super computer, yes?…but I digress. Once you have a frequency, the words will just run, like a river, sometimes a raging river, sometimes just a slow-flowing creek, but if one is to be a writer, one must write, one must ride the river, it’s not complicated. It’s like any other discipline, & only with practice, do you open the doors, with that salty swinging key around your neck, on the broken-rope noose, getting tighter & tighter, as the sand in the weird-looking glass falls & falls. Don’t dwell on the morbidity though, & smack that hourglass off the loose-legged nightstand, just do what you can, while you can. What else is there? Until next time dear reader, I repeat, what else is there? So sayeth FisH™🎣
For all of you, & for none of you at all.🐡
“What else is there?” ~Fish F Fish🎏
“Don’t let someone else pull the rope around your own neck.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
“It’s easy, just write.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
“WRITE, WRITE, WRITE, YOU FUCKING FOOL OF FOOLS!” ~Fish F Fish🎏
I was talking to myself, about the flowers in the park, for hours in the dark, the hours in the park.
Who are you, who is this voice, this voice always talking to me, in my head, who the fuck are you? Seriously, I think it’s time we have a talk then, since you won’t shut the fuck up, whoever you are. Sheesh. Is 45 fucking years long enough? Geez. You remind me daily how I fucked my life off, you seem to always have the answer, yet my auto-pilot meat puppet doesn’t abide, & does its own thing, apparently. I don’t know. I DON’T KNOW, gah, but there you are, always there chiming in. Like a version of myself, guiding myself, at least attempting to, from somewhere I am unaware of. My “higher self,” maybe? Gah I just don’t know, no idea who the fuck you really are, but you’re ALWAYS here with me. You bring shit music, & play it on loops, you alter your dialect too confuse me. Why? Why are you fucking with me?
It’s so frustrating, but it feels good to write it out. Maybe that’s how I beat you, but are we competing? What’s the competition? Control of the moron writing this crap? Does everyone have this voice, a “conscience,” is that who you are, my conscience? Hard to make that determination, when you’re looking through a cloud of narcissistic bi-polar maniacal paranoid schizophrenic delusions, if,& I emphasize IF, that’s the reality of the reality, so to speak. . but yep, I bet I’d check off the whole list…check, check, check. Throw him back in the nuthouse, perhaps? Gah, why do you keep referring to that, whoever you are? Why these games, these tricks, like my higher self is fucking with me, for laughs maybe? I just don’t know. It’s incredibly difficult to manage. What about the meds? WHAT MEDS? What the fuck are you referring to? I don’t take meds. Oh great, another earworm…wunderbar.
This is whatI deal with, all day every day. Not only am I aware of my own decades-long string of insanely poor life choices, but my “conscience” reminds me about, again all day every day, while looping stupid songs on top of the vocals. Makes no sense. What am I supposed to do? I have this key, a special key to a unique door, a rare key, not many people have this key. When I use this key, & open the door, I see the whole picture. Not a corner of the painting, not the edge, the ENTIRE picture. I see the Great Recycler, I see your so-called “leaders” helping it. It’s something beyond this 3d space we’re all in, but I have the key, as I mentioned, & I opened the door, & I saw what I saw. Now, I’m either truly insane, a complete mental patient, or…I’m right. Are these self-proclaimed “elites” doing Satanic rituals on live broadcasts to millions of people? YES. Do these elitists believe in Luciferian doctrine? YES. Do we all know that these people do dark things to kids? YES. YES YES YES, we live in a world where the people in power positions believe in an avatar of destruction, & venerate said avatar. THAT is what the big picture illustrates. Or…none of what I just said is true, & I’m a mental patient. Now which do you believe?
Doesn’t matter to me, I don’t care what any of you think, to be honest, I’m a narcissist remember? I can’t “care,” according to the manual anyway. Truth is, I DO CARE. I care about all of it. I care about a waning humanity being led through The Great Mouse Trap by dangling bits of moldy cheese, disguised as fiat money. Oh, you didn’t know? Yep, “money” is the stinky cheese they keep you trapped with. Those silly little notes, with numerical denominations, just pieces of paper, “I-O-Us,” so to speak, yet people KILL each other for their cheddar. It’s all in the words, which is one reason why I’m so fascinated by these words, these vibrations, coming from somewhere, some other dimension maybe, I don’t know. They come though, these words come then I write them down, & set them free to roam if they want to, roam around the world, isn’t that right B-52s?
Now it’s time to wrap up, “wrap this bullshit up,” he says, whoever he is. Is it me? I don’t know. Is it a program? Again, no idea. Will he ever shut up? No, probably not, but I notice that on my dreams, he isn’t there. Very surreal, right? Like literally surreal, since he only dips when I’m dreaming. Oh wait, when I go to Interzone too, he isn’t there. Well, he kind of is, but he’s quiet, subdued in submission perhaps? I don’t know….gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…I DON’T KNOW, & the one thing I really get frustrated over, is NOT knowing things, particularly because I know that I know more than I know, does that make sense? Almost as if part of me has been turned off, hindering my true abilities, & all I’m left with is this asshole reminding me daily how I fucked my life off. It helps writing this down, exposing my conscience, as maybe one of my handful of readers has similar experiences occurring. Thanks again JP for the releasing the Pandora’s box of inner-prompts for me. Thank you to the one who gifted me with JP’s online course as well. You know who you are. Cheers Jonesy.
Anyway, he says wrap it up, which I defied, but now I shall comply. Why? I don’t know, this has reached its proverbial pinnacle atop the mountain though, wouldn’t ya say? I’m tired, & my head hurts, & there’s just static now. The dial has moved to a station with no frequency, which is my queue to go. Time to climb back down the mountain. Until next time dear reader, climb your own mountain, before your mountain becomes a mole hill. So sayeth FisH™🎣
For all of you, & for none of you at all.🐟
“Climb your mountain, before your mountain becomes a mole hill.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
ATTENTION: Mixtape mayhem at the end…the FisH™abides 🐡🔪🍣
Dah-dahda-dahhhhhh…”Unleash the SIMMMMMPS!”…they proclaimed, albeit unspoken. Nope, that phrase was never actually exclaimed, but they sure did, didn’t they? My, my, my how the simp army has grown over the last decade or two. Thanks to online dating, the ENTIRE dynamic of relationships between men & women has been fucked(pun intended), & I say that literally & figuratively. Hook-up culture has completely ruined any hope of someone virtuous finding another virtuous person. If you could buy a used car or a new car for the same price, which would you pick? I know, I know, the “used-car analogy” has been thrown out enough by now to almost squash the novelty, but personally, I still think it’s an accurate analogy. Not familiar? Here it goes: every man a woman sleeps with is the equivalent of a car with 10,000 miles on it. For example, if a girl sleeps with 20 guys, that’s analogous to a vehicle with 200,000 miles of wear & tear. Would you buy that hunk of junk? No, you wouldn’t, at least you assume you wouldn’t; but enter the “simp.” Yes, that silly simp steps in, & treats her like the queen bee she is, right? Derp…(Fart Noise)…yeah right. Maybe tell that slag to kick rocks, that’s the move to make, but nope, they “love” her, & would do anything for their girl, so brave, so stunning, that’s what a “real man” would do, yes? Ummm, no…NO, NO, NO, NO, NO…STOP…just STOP, stop the simping right now. Do they stop though? Nope, & the proverbial “games,” just keep getting played, simps begging for yumyum, while girls hold it over their heads like carrots.
Unless it’s Chad of course, then the script flips, & the GIRL becomes the simp, or maybe call her “simpette,” since she’s a girl. I’m not letting go of the natural masculine/feminine attributes as they arise. Fuck you non-binary, there-are-174-gender freaks. Seriously…FUCK YOU, fuck your stupid pronouns, I am, & I have, & I will continue to call you as I see you. If you’re a dude, guess what?…I’m gonna abide by my initial perspective that YOU ARE A MAN, so expect a “dude,” or a “bro,” or a “guy,” or a “man,” because that’s reality you LARPing mental patients. SO OVER IT, over the Clownworld crap. YOU CAN”T CHANGE DEFINITIONS, YOU CANNOT CHANGE LANGUAGE TO FIT YOUR PSUEDO-NARRATIVES, YOU CANNOT ALTER REALITY FOR YOURSELVES FOR FUCK’S SAKE. Sheesh with the maddening madness already. It’s so insane, that it’s insanity on my end to even have to illustrate this ridiculousness for all of you, dear readers. Seriously, right off the fucking cliff with the “woke” bullshit & again, I’M OVER IT. You weirdos can honk honk honk me all day, & I won’t budge a Planck length. Ever. Deal with it. Big tech has already cancelled my black ass, so what’s left? Oh yeah, their buddies in the Ponzi-schme crypto sector took all my life savings, everything I’ve ever earned, all gone, so again I ask, what’s left? What’s next for FisH? I have nothing left, NOTHING, you all robbed me blind, in every way imaginable, & are going to get away with it, & there’s nothing I can do to change it. I’m just another clueless dunce stuck in The Great Mouse Trap like all of you.
Was I ever a simp? Oh HELL YES I was, & still am in a way. Oy vey, looking back on my simpery makes me wanna puke, ugh. I’ve done SO MUCH trying to win over girls, the proverbial bending-over-backwards for the ladies, & all for what? Countless failed toxic relationships, no kids, just an abysmally lame history of simping versus un-simping, which leads to chaos, & ultimately, you end up alone typing gibberish on your computer to a global audience that could care less. What a life. Wunderbar. Why though, why such instability? Is it me? Duh, of course it’s me, because ultimately girls like real men, not narcissistic fraudsters like my wanker self. Yep, the big fraud, just a stupid kid with a smart-ass mouth, STILL, & that’s about all it adds up to. I’m nothing to look up to, I never was, & never will be. Kind of surreal that I’m even still here. All my friends are dead, dead & gone, lost to addiction, as I have been countless times. I’m literally the only one left, a former junkie, a former “man” really, as at this point, I’m just a shell of what I used to aspire to be. “Aspire,” I say, because I never made it. Nope, I saw the mountain, I started to climb, made it to Basecamp One, then got high with the locals on some Tibetan mad honey& quit climbing. Not only did I quit climbing, I descended back down the mountain. Or maybe I fell back down…yes, that analogy is more functional here. I fell, & fell hard, my fall becoming a snowball, & that snowball just keeps growing as I go down…down, down, down, back to rock bottom I guess, minus the drugs this time though. Nope, no drugs this round, it was all just me, the failed failure.
Nope, no drugs, just the instinctive loser in me playing out his loser role. Some of us can never win, ever. I feel like this inclination is common amongst the simp legion, this notion that we will NEVER win, ever, & we won’t, we don’t, & that’s just how it is. I suppose I am STILL a simp. Yep, this idiot that’s typing this gibbering gibberish right now, is a simp, still the simp, never going to not be a simp. Despite my wordsmithing, my silver tongue, ultimately it’s true, as true as the daily sunrise, I AM A SIMP. Simp, simp, simparoo, look in the mirror you fucking fuck(talking to myself), look at you, you crooked-nosed jackass, do you seriously think you have what it takes you vertically-challenged street-hustler? Look at you. Nope, sorry, can’t do it. I don’t like looking in mirrors much anymore. How can you, when you despise what you see, what you’ve become, how can you even look at yourself you asshole? Good question, thanks for playing. Well, the answer for me is that I don’t, not if I don’t have to. It’s like looking at a rare old book, except the book has numerous pages torn out, a broken spine, graffiti all over the remaining pages, just ruined. What was once novel, is now just an old wasted book. Always was just a poorly-written book, an aged out-dated story for children in juvenile hall, & that’s it, that’s my unfortunate reality, the one I wake back up to every day.
Thanks Jordan Peterson…& no I’m not being sarcastic, that’s an honest “thanks,” as sincere as I can ever be. It’s a big THANKS, for waking me up to my own failed existence. Can’t deal with it unless you acknowledge the truth, your own truth, which I did, via his online course for “self-authoring.” It hurts, hurts a lot, but it has to hurt like this to help I guess, at least that’s the end goal, right? By writing, writing down your past, you expose your own self-realizations about who you truly are. It just comes out when you write, if you stick to the program, & what comes out, is the TRUTH, despite how revolting and/or damning it is, it IS the truth, YOUR truth, the one YOU live with, same as my silly self does. There’s no arguing truth, you just have to accept it, which can be exceptionally difficult, especially when it’s YOUR own individual truth, respectively. My truth, is my truth. Your truth, is YOUR truth. Can you accept your own truth? Have you even found it yet? I’ll link to Jordan’s website below for you. Maybe it’s time, YOUR time, to find YOUR own truth? Only YOU can answer that question, not me. I found mine, & regardless of how deep the stinger went into my thin dry skin, I MUST accept my truth. The truth about me, the truth about me, the truth about me is that I’ve lived a life of a loser, with little diamonds in the sand on a losing loser’s beach, little clue diamonds, little helpers from Divinity, & all I had to do was see them, & collect them, & learn about myself to grow as a man, but I didn’t. Nope, I just watched the diamonds shimmer in the sun, as I drowned myself in a shallow sea. The loser, the simp, the ignorant pseudo-narcissist, always about me, me me me, until one day you’re middle-aged & you do a writing course online that cleverly opens you up to yourself, you TRUE self, via Dr. Jordan Peterson, & you just snap out of it, like a light-switch, turned from “off,” to “on,” finally. Here’s the link to his website below, as promised. I try to keep my word always, the little things & such, know what I mean? All one can do at this point, when they’re middle-aged with the starkly grim realization that you fucked your whole life off. Is what it is I suppose, right? Is that what I’m supposed to say? I didn’t know I was “supposed” to say anything, who makes these unwritten rules anyway?…but I digress. Click this link below, it might save whatever life you have left, at least a much as one can save a life lost to loserdom & simpery & just cluelessly self-oriented shenaniganerosity.
It’s pathetic really, but for what it’s worth, I’m glad I know at least. What does it mean to be a totally self-aware loser? I don’t know, I’m illustrating it in real-time for you right now. Do I sound like I have a fucking clue? About anything? That’s weird, because I don’t. Nope, all there is, is this, whatever this is that I’m doing right now. Blah blah blah, just barfing out wordisms for all of you, & for none of you. Not even my quote, it’s a paraphrasing of something Nietzsche said. As genius as he was, he was also a simp, just like me. He let his instincts destroy him, his internal instinctive nature to love women, he let it run wild, & ultimately, it broke him. Ironically, right around the same age I am right now. Maybe it’s my time, my time to break. Why not?…I’m already walking on a tightrope just to function in “normal” society, so maybe I should just let the dam break, & let the torrents flow through the crumbling dyke that once held these waning waters back. Is that what I just did, did I “let the water flow?” Nah, it’s only a little leak, the dam is still up, for now anyway. Leaks eventually become floods though, so the clock ticks…tick tick tick, as 4d time plows forward, spiraling ever faster toward a shadowy future. Sure, I’d like to be positive, optimistic, hopeful, hoping that one day I will wake up in the morning & say to myself, “all of it was worth it, look at yourself, what a great guy,” but that surly pragmatist on my other shoulder chimes in with the hard truth. I’m a loser, I’m a simp, I failed, just a lame duck joke now. It’s all just been a B-list movie, as I continuously struggle/d to find myself, STILL, even at my middle-aged age.
All I got is my words, & a micro-thin string of faith left in myself. Not completely drained, but the gas light is on as I run on the fumes of failure. The gas light has been on in fact, on for awhile, right in front of me, lighting up the dashboard, as it needs more gas. Just a few more miles left, then a sputter, then the engine dies & my car sits on the side of the road, with a big orange sticker that says, “In two days this car will be impounded.” All I need is more gas, but the gas station doesn’t trade hard-copy drivel like this, for more gas unfortunately. The engine growls, yearning, for more gas, more life, more time, but there is none of the above, not for me anyway. I don’t know. Fuck it, the answer for everything in the world of the wasted, just “fuck it.” Who cares anyway? No one, so fuck it, right? Fuck it, fuck it all I guess. Doesn’t matter. Until next time dear reader, find your truth & live your true life. Don’t waste it all like yours truly. So sayeth FisH™🎣
For all of you, & for none of you at all. 🐟
“Self-loathing is nauseating.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
“Your truth is the truth.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
“Find your truth & live your true life, don’t truly waste it.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
“Dude is simpin like a mixtape.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
👇🏻🍥Gemini & Leo below, cheers to Helado Negro🍥👇🏻
Fresh start Hold my hand all the way now Wake up Everyone’s singing outside
Asked you We can stay all day, who cares Lying down It’s our dream to stay all day when we know Nobody cares And nobody needs to know what we’re doing here
Gemini and Leo Dancing on the floor all night Gemini and Leo Dancing on the floor all night
We can move in slow motion, just watch me We can take our time in cosmic balance We’re just light from stars that shine on planets Constellations of our love and magic
Oh, take me To your galaxy now Oh, show me How you orbit around my mind Takes a little bit of time To know just how to be with you
Gemini and Leo Dancing on the floor all night Gemini and Leo Dancing on the floor all night
Gemini and Leo Dancing on the floor all night Gemini and Leo Dancing on the floor all night
EaT~aLL~YouR~FisH™ 