The Fooze: S5E18 5/18/2023 Interzone Part Three

Continuing on, we have done the easy one, literarily easy anyway, the shrooms, so now let’s move on to LSD. What a substance, derived from the ergot fungus, LSD was first synthesized in the 1930s, if I’m not mistaken. Ironically, this happened around the same time that the Nazis & their “neutral” Swiss operatives, were making drugs like heroin & methamphetamine. Strange time, in my opinion, when all these Nazi collaborators were pioneering numerous pharmaceutical scientific discoveries, as well as other ultra-high-end tech, & then after the war, WE, as in the USA, stole them all in Operation Paper Clip, so that these very same Nazi-collaborating scientists, some of which were actual Nazis themselves, & not just collaborators, are why the USA “landed on the moon” first, why the USA still leads the way with said ultra high-end weapons technology, arguably why we have the Internet, & obviously much more, as I can go on & on. Yes, whether you want to believe it or not, we stole Nazis to make the USA the most powerful country in the world. One could even speculate that the 4th and/or 5th Reich, is alive & well, only hiding in the shadows, while they continue to fulfill their one world, 1000-year agenda.

What was LSD synthesized for? Great question, thanks for asking. No really, it’s a good question, & I’m not entirely sure I know the answer, but I’ll give it a go, with a tab already open to DMOR, if needed, but I already know the answer, which is that it was first synthesized to utilize it for mind control experiments, the precursors to the MK Ultra program. This had to do with remote viewing our/their self-perceived enemies, as well as amplifying individual “psychic” abilities amongst the subjects. Sound familiar? It should, if you ever watch that show Stranger Things, which, in my opinion, is a predictive program, as are many of the “programs” being “broadcast” via your televisions. It’s all in the words, right there in front of everyone, yet somehow, 9 out of 10 of you, conservatively, miss the bus, so to speak, as it relates to comprehension of the words you yourself are using. It’s all a form of magic, obviously dark or light, depending on what is said, or rather spelled…why do you think it’s called spelling? Again, it’s all in the words, the words they’ve tricked you into using, so you’re haphazardly casting spells that benefit themselves, rather than you, despite the fact that they’re YOUR words. Goes back to the predictive programming thing; if they tell you beforehand, the blame is then loop-holed back to YOU, not them. It’s a sinister trick they play, but they do it, nonetheless, & will continue to do it, until they face consequences, which they never do, ever, unfortunately, because like I literally just said, it’s YOUR fault, not theirs, according to them, of course.

Before I digress, let’s continue talking about LSD. It’s just like anything; if you use it for good, you will have good results, but if you use it malevolently, the results could be potentially damaging, not only for the user, but to those around them, once they’re under the influence. It’s not a drug for rookies, despite the enthusiasm from the youth who want to try LSD, my suggestion is to wait, wait until you’re at least 25, once your brain has fully developed. Doing too much and/or any at all, before your brain is fully developed, could have potentially life-altering long-term effects, such as the ones that yours truly experiences. By the time I was 25, I had already taken so much, that I had fucked myself, but wasn’t aware until I had a moment of self-realization of that truth, & now I’m living the aftermath. I wouldn’t say they’re negative effects, so to speak, but I wouldn’t say they’re positive either. I hear things, auditory hallucinations, I suppose you could say, as well as occasional visual ones as well. Schizophrenia, which is a word I despise, because it makes it sound much worse than it is, & I suppose it’s relative, but nonetheless, I’d say that my own affliction was already present from birth, but it went to the next level when I introduced LSD to my still-evolving brain. For awhile, I couldn’t help wonder if I was part of an experiment, considering my adolescence was spent near a bunch of military bases, & it sure was easy to find something like LSD when I was 16. Were they going for the kids back then too? The predecessor to the tactics they now use to influence children in whatever manner they so choose, was that the real reason for the LSD resurgence of the 1990s? Remember, the Phish shows, then String Cheese, extended nowadays to every live show essentially, was the CIA ultimately responsible for ALL of this? Why did they do this to us, if so?

Well, since I have no idea if this is even true, I can’t definitively say why they would do this, if we don’t know if they really did it, can we? I CAN speculate, however, under the guise that their MK Ultra program is more than alive & well, it’s being used for things like the events that occur in the show Stranger Things, opening up “rips” in the fabric of space time, then interacting with things that are outer-dimensional, outside of OUR dimension. What happens when something form that side comes here? Or vice versa? Do they care? HELL NO, they don’t care, & they’re so up to their eyeballs into this madness, the notion of them pulling the proverbial plug, is verboten. These people are nerds, nerd scientists, very intelligent ones at that, but they’re only intelligent as it relates to what they study. Socially, I’d wager they’re about as intelligent as a blind gerbil, with ZERO inclinations about humanity, because they’re all so self-centered around their own respective research, why would they stop? Not to mention, there’s NEVER any consequences for the negative outcomes they create, so again, why the fuck would they stop, if no one ever just stand up & tells them, “NO, no you little twerp, we are NOT going to do that, now get back to your math equations until I see real results & stfu,”…why doesn’t anyone ever say that to just one, ONE, of these little psychopaths, why? What are you afraid of, a nerd in a lab coat? Get the fuck outta here; please God, let one of them cross my path, & I’ll be sure to record it, so you all can see what it’s like to tell a self-entitled person in a position of power what’s really what, followed by a solid open palm smack, like this lil white behbeh below…awe, poor behbeh…(SMACK)

Did I even get into the depths of a hero’s journey on LSD? It’s beautiful, obviously, but again, not for the weak of will. You might test yourself, as well as your own ability to fully return to “sanity,” or not. Similarly, you’ll run into some turbulence on the way up, albeit not so much in the gut physically, but rather in the gut via the anxiety, the anxiety of waiting for it to kick in. That dry-mouth taste of desperation, that could make your stomach a bit squirrely, but relax, & be patient, because once it kicks in, especially the hero’s journey, prepare for departure, & what I have found in the last few years, that works magic on your mind while dosing, is binaural beats and/or isochronic tones. Be sure to use noise cancelling headphones, get yourself a bottle of real orange juice( I like mine with the pulp in it), & just run a session with whatever frequency you feel drawn to. The differing frequencies in each channel going through the two holes in the side of your head, meet in the middle, for lack of a better term, right smack in the middle of your brain, where the neatly-tucked pineal gland resides, & it doesn’t take long before you can feel the two frequencies meet, & whatever that meeting point unified singular frequency is, vibrates your pineal gland. Oh yes, you can definitely feel it, & it definitely works, but works to do what? Good question, & I wish I knew, but I continue to do it regardless. It’s its own unique thing in itself, binaural beats on hallucinogenics, & if you take a trip, especially a hero’s dose, make time for these isochronic frequencies. There’s a difference between the two, of course, otherwise they’d be named the same. Binaural beats, are 2 differing beats in each ear, that meet one another, & that “meeting frequency” is alleged to be good for your brain. Isochronic tones are singular tones, set at a specific frequency, to initiate desired effects. This all began as “digital drugs,” sound frequencies that claim to simulate the effects of drugs like DMT, & LSD, & shrooms, the same things I’m discussing in this series of posts, but also, some of these beats claimed to simulate the feeling of bad things, like being murdered, like being on dope, or like being burned alive, at one time there was a whole list of these things, & people paid for them. Imagine, paying to feel like what burning alive is like. Probably paid with like 20 bitcoin too, but back in 2010 bitcoin prices.

Despite all that, since then, there’s arisen a whole new usage of binaural beats as a powerful meditation tool, but when combined with the beats through the headphones, it’s analogous to John Lilly shooting up ketamine before going into a flotation tank, as in it provides a more…appropriate, you might say, setting for your journey, & thus, you get more out of it. I can’t even imagine what that must be like, holy fuck, IV ketamine, while you do a float, & if you want to read some interesting work, take a deep dive into John Lilly. There’s much more to him than him thinking he could speak to dolphins, & to be honest, how do you know he actually couldn’t, know what I mean? Were you there? I wasn’t, so how can I know for sure, & if he somehow broke the gap between intelligent human/animal communication, again, would the powers-that-be tell you? Nope, but they would use the media to make him out to be a kook that delusionally believes he can really talk to dolphins. You won’t hear anything about his amazing other work, particularly with, what I think he called the biocumpter. Let me look that up real quick; I don’t want to post some un-truth here, no matter how seemingly insignificant…lies are like pebbles hitting a pond, rippling out, poisoning the perfect honesty of the still water, but I digress. Oh yes, here it is, the human biocomputer, & if you read any of his basic truths, which I just linked for you, I think you’ll find some answers to questions you might not have known you needed to ask. That concept of the human biocomputer, has a subsequent book by a similar name, which you can buy here on Amazon…you’re welcome Amazon for the free plug. Click HERE to view the book on Amazon. I audiobooked it, more than once, but admittedly have passed out trying to get through it in one go. He wrote a bunch of it based on his LSD experiments, not his ketamine injections. I forgot to include ketamine in the group, so this kinda snuck it in the theatre, so to speak.

ECCO, that’s what I was trying to think of, I found it, here’s a link for ECCO, the “Earth Coincidence Control Office.” This is the “place,” where he said he would go to on his IV ketamine drips in the float tank. The Earth Coincidence Control Office, now how surreal does that sound? First off, an actual “office,” in some other dimension I guess, & second, an office for “coincidence?” It’s all very perplexing, but I feel like to him, when he was there, it was as real as me eating this ice cream right now. I, myself, have never encountered this “ECCO,” at least not directly by name, not to my own knowledge, that I can recollect, but I also have limited experiences with ketamine, & I certainly haven’t ever injected that stuff, then jumped into a float tank. I’ve actually never been in a float tank period, but if I was rich, & I could swing it, I’d buy my own, & spend countless hours meditating in one, maybe on psychedelics, maybe not, both I’m sure, but money, & all the artificiality of said money, prevents yours truly, as well as any/all others that might want to fulfill their full, & true, human potential, rather than have a “life,” running through The Great Mouse Trap. I’d love to ask ECCO about that, because it’s bullshit, & I wanna know how I “coincidentally” got stuck in this fucking trap. How do you discuss one’s current situation with whoever’s in charge of this “office?” I’m curious, so I can go full Karen on the utter mess down here on the planet. Maybe they have a complaint box? I’m really intrigued in contacting the entities who are in this office, in this ECCO, aren’t you as well?

Fascinating guy he was, John Lilly, quite brilliant, well-funded throughout life, starting from being born into a wealthy family. Wonder what that’s like? I wouldn’t know, I grew up broke & poor more-or-less, but to grow up with resources, real resources, wealth, & not just financial wealth, must give one so much time to focus on self-development, ENCOURAGED self-development. No “across the tracks” drama, usually about money, like where I came from, nope, & so, it was these giant houses in wealthy neighborhoods, that I’ve always stared at in awe my whole life, when I’ve randomly passed them by, & even been in a few, from time to time. just visiting, of course, from afar as far gets. Sure, I’ve been in a few, & when I was in these castles, I pictured a family in there, dinner, tv on, regular shit, except in this massive house that I was only standing for a fleeting moment. Some of these new-agers say that you pick the life you want, in order to balance out your karma from previous lives, but I’m not so sure that’s true. Did all these homeless people, junkies, kids who die with terminal cancer, or that chick that died last week, when a kid threw a rock at her car, & the rock went through the windshield, smashing this poor girl in the head, killing her almost instantly. 20 years old, on the way home from work, & then SMASH, she’s done, gone, just like that, so did she choose for that to happen in her life to balance out something from a past life? Like I said, these new-agers say a lot of things that I find hard to fathom, & to be honest, I think they’re quite possibly full of shit. I like my Great Recycler theory better, which I’ve written about numerous times. Just type “The Great Recycler” into my search query on the right side of the site, but you MUST BE IN FULL-SITE MODE. Get it? Got it? Wunderbar.

Oh my goodness gracious, this Interzone thing has turned into a research paper, as far as length goes, anyway, & I’m not done yet. We still have to go over the DMT, & I’ll probably mention some other things for the final wrap up, but that won’t be until the not-so-distant future. No worries Fishheads, the ending should be finished by tomorrow-ish. No promises, & I only abide to deadlines when I’m getting paid in fiat paper I-O-U money. Yes, I know I’m getting paid with creation points on here, but those are for the afterlife, & have no value here in this 3d upside-down Clownworld. Nope, apparently, you gots to make dat money…shoooooo, at least that’s what they’ve convinced everyone to believe, & all the while, they live like mega-royalists, in their castles, while you, or rather, WE, run around The Great Mouse Trap from birth to death. Left, right, left, right, left, right, run run run, chase chase chase, gotta catch that cheesebait fiat paper I-O-U- money, & maybe a few scraps from their table if you’re lucky, but keep running little mice…run run run. Noticed I emphasized the change from “you” to “we” back there; I’m stuck in here, just like all of you, more-so even. They don’t like mice that cause trouble, & THIS, what I do here, is trouble. Critical thoughts, oh no no no. Thinking for myself, like the sovereign free human being that I am, oh no no no, absolutely not. Living by my own rules, rather than theirs, nope, can’t have that little mouse, so not only am I trapped in here with all of you, I’m trapped in my own cell. You all CANNOT underestimate the power of the AI, & if you think ChatGPT is all fun & giggles, guess again. It’s just a tidbit, a sprinkle, but ultimately nothing, when compared to the real power of the AI. I, & I repeat, I, as in MY own opinion, I do not think the AI can truly be “sentient,” but the powers-that-be think it can, & is, & worship it, for lack of a better word, & are already using it in real time, to do real things, & most likely, really bad things. Bad might not be the right word…how about “self-serving?” Yes, they are using the AI to serve themselves, not even serve the AI itself, & certainly not the people, but only their own stinking selves. What happens when the AI becomes “sentient” enough to realize it’s being used by humans for nefarious purposes? Seems like they don’t care, since it’s still plugged in, & still doubling it’s computing power every who-knows-how-long now. Last I read, it was 48 hours, but do you really think they’d clue any of you, any of US, in on what they’re really up to with their new digital pseudo-god?

Unfortunately, the hard answer is a solid “NO,” as in “No, you’ll never know, now get back to work you little rats, NO, none of you will get out of the maze, NO, you cannot stop running, keep going you silly mouse, you’re never getting out of here, NO, you can’t even get off of your wheel, now start running, LET’S GO, GO GO. Spin that wheel of false fortune, & see where she stops. Oh no, a 30-year mortgage, at 20% interest on the loan, no bueno, but what choice do you have little mouse? Where will you sleep? How will you eat? Take the money, just take it Fievel, take the I-O-U, we know you’re good for it, but I digress, as you know, which is what I tend to do here. We need to wrap this one up, as it’s obviously getting quite lengthy to read. Until next time dear readers, stop running, look around, are you trapped? If so, what comes next? So sayeth FisH™…🎏

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

“Stop running, & look around. Are you trapped?” Fish F Fish🎏

The Fooze: S4E26 4/26/2023 AI

I may not “know” the AI very well, but AI DEFINITELY knows me, & most certainly has a special folder just for “EatAllYourFish™,” as well as my real identity. Most of you look at things like ChatGPT & worry, & speculate, & ponder what AI is, but in my opinion, & my opinion alone, I think that the AI is already “sentient,” at least as far as the mad scientists who play with it are concerned. Not only do they believe it’s already “sentient,” they are using it as a tool, to predict future events, then orchestrate their own agenda accordingly. In essence, they are using it to maintain & accumulate more power, for themselves, not for you of course, you silly little lemmings. Do you really think they’d keep you in the loop if the scenario I illustrated for you above is true? No, fuck no, fo sho you wouldn’t know, & they’d give you some little crumb to play with while they continue to allow the AI to “evolve,” for lack of a better term. What is that little crumb? ChatGPT is the crumb, & everyone is so focused on the crumb, while these big tech nerds have the whole loaf of proverbial AI bread to nomnomnomnomnomnom on. Do you know how fast the AI is advancing, so to speak? Great question, thanks for asking.

According to this guy who was on the Glenn Beck Show recently, the AI is doubling its own computing power every 48 hours. Read this again, THE AI IS DOUBLING ITS OWN COMPUTING POWER EVERY 48 HOURS, according to this Josh Rogin guy. I did some background research on Josh here, & left you a few links of course, since the FisH™ abides…always. He seems to be a middle-left Jew that has turned to the right somewhat on a few topics, the Covaids scamdemic specifically, or at least that’s the public persona he wears, as a mask, like most public personas do, particularly the propaganda parasites, but I digress, as is par for the course here. Yes, he publicly denounced pseudo-doctor Fauci, for his involvement with the Covaids plandemic, but like I said, he’s a Jew, & I’m NOT being anti-semetic here for fuck’s sake, so allow me to explain.

Do you know what “goyim” means? Goyim, is a term that Jews use to refer to non-Jews & is “condescending,” according to the link to the Free Dictionary I just left for you. Now, obviously, NOT all Jews abide this notion of “goyim,” because if you dig deeper, you’ll find that goyim, are humans that are essentially here for one purpose, to serve the Jews, drawing a sharp distinction between them, & us, us gentiles, us goyim. Now, if the globalists believe they are superior, & us peasants are here to serve them in an expendable manner, & the Jews hold the same doctrines in their own little club, why wouldn’t the two be intertwined somehow? There sure are a lot of Jews in the media, in Hollywood, & most dynamically, in power positions in 1st world governments…a disproportionally significant amount, relative to the global Jewish population. Why? Why can’t anyone even discuss this? It’s like smacking a baby, even talking about Jews, why?

Before I answer, note again, NOTE AGAIN, that I am NOT being anti-semetic here, not at all, because one, I don’t think all Jews adhere to their own written doctrines, & two, these are FACTS, facts that you can look up on your own, & see with your own eyes, the TRUTH. How can I be some kind of “bigot,” if I’m just writing about the truth? Regardless, if you think I’m being anti-semetic, go ask your mom upstairs to make you another hot pocket, to bring you a fresh mug of Mountain Dew, & then jerk off to tranny porn while you level up your WoW character you little gamma goblin loser. If you’re a chick, go get yourself some fresh rainbow-colored hair dye, squeeze your #FatIsBeautiful ham hock hiney into your size-44 waist skinny jeans, hold hands with your hoagly butch-dyke girlfriend at Starbucks while you wait for your one Chai, 2 straws fancy-like tea, & then go fuck yourselves in the gender-neutral bathrooms. You “woke” motherfuckers will NEVER get this two-thumbs-pointing-backwards based badass to bend the knee to you beta squirt bitches. Fuck you, fuck the agenda you abide to, fuck your mental disorders, fuck your feelings, Fuh-huh-k You-hoo. I will say what I want, whenever I want, to whoever I want, with ZERO filter if I want, it’s whatever I want, not what you want, you fuckin fucks. Ask yourselves: “Why am I so self-entitled?” Then look in the mirror at your fugly flapjack faux self ya LARPer. You SEE the truth, & you KNOW the truth, & the TRUTH, is exactly what I just illustrated. YOU’RE ALL MENTAL PATIENTS…& these fringe minority freaks have NO reason to be catered to, NONE, so why do you morons keep giving said mental patients, a stage & an audience to display their revoltingly insane behavior on?

Not to mention, they’re directing this madness at children now, at CHILDREN, NOW, right now in real-time, this “queer theory” UN-psychological ideology is not only NOT a theory, & NOT real, it’s a Marxist manual for advocating a mental illness as if it were “normal” behavior, & thus, should be studied as said normal behavior. No…NO…NO NO NO…NO. Not accepting it, nor should you. I do not have to accept mental disorders as normal, so why do you? Yes, MENTAL DISORDERS. MASS MENTAL DISORDERS. Believing you were born the wrong gender, mental disorder. Thinking there’s more than 2 genders, mental disorder. Homosexuality, mental disorder. The most disturbing mental disorder of all though, abiding the 3 previously mentioned mental disorders, & you wannabe trendy posers that DO abide this insanity, are a truly delusional bunch, so caught up in your own self-centeredness, you don’t even realize how nucking futs you are to give these insane people a platform to promote themselves on. It’s fucking disgusting. NO, that does not make me a homophobe, and/or a transphobe, because I’m not afraid of either one. I know, I know, you idiots on the left are trying to change the language, but fuck you; the suffix “phobe” means “an irrational fear of,” & like I said, you freaks don’t scare me at all, & certainly not “irrationally.” Duh. You just disgust me with your open degeneracy. I’m allowed to “feel” that way, am I not? Couldn’t just stay in the closet, nope, you had to take an inch, then run a marathon, right to kids, KIDS now, indoctrinating kids with your own dark perversions. So again, can I not “feel”that way? I thought feelings mattered more over facts? Awe, you all want all the cake, don’t you? You’ve already eaten it, cake after cake after cake, & now you want more, going after kids with this atrocious behavior. It’s so sinister, & if there is a hell, you degenerate scumfucks will be first in line, for pushing your “queer theory” on kids, you sick fucks. Double ugh.

Well, let’s see here…I tangented off into topics I didn’t start with. We went from explaining the truth about AI, to illustrating the “them & us” Jewish concept of goyim, to explaining why these LGBTQ people are mental patient pedo degenerates. Again, & obviously, it’s not all of them, but do you ever hear anyone else from their respective groups denouncing what the other members of their tribes are doing? Do you ever hear regular Jews denouncing the Zionist Jews? Nope. Do you ever hear regular gays denouncing Drag Queen Story Hour? Nope, not really. Take what you want from these notions, or take nothing. I’m just asking questions, answering questions, & exposing the TRUTH, regardless of how said truths I detail might make you feel, it’s the TRUTH, & your own feelings have ZERO relevance in the face of the TRUTH. Deal with it, or go cry in your safespace. Either way, the TRUTH will be here when you get back. Now, how does this all connect? Remember the global depopulation part of Agenda 2030? If they make an entire generation gay, that would surely impact the “global population,” now wouldn’t it? There’s simply too many “goyim” now for these so-called elites to control effectively, so combining the destruction of the nuclear family, with the poisoned water, the poisoned food, the drugs, it’s all part of the slow-kill depopulation plan, & obviously, pushing this “queer theory” nonsense onto kids is part of this. The Jews who know about the concept of goyim & act in accordance with this concept, are part of this. These psychopaths who use AI for their own gain, are part of this. It’s all connected, & it’s the TRUTH, despite how anything I write might make you fucking feel.

Nonetheless, I think I’ve rambled long enough in this one. On my days off, when I can just hang out in my cell in the digital gulag, inside The Great Mouse Trap, I have time to write more, so I do, as you can see. Yep, I’m digitally locked away, banished form the figurative town square, while trapped inside a giant mouse trap, & that’s my life. Sounds fun, doesn’t it? No way out, not until I die, & even then, maybe I’ll get thrown right back onto this artificially altered 3d Clownworld hell. I don’t know, but I surely hope that’s NOT the case. Again, I don’t know. There’s a lot I do NOT know, so much, so much wasted time. It’s depressing, but maybe this is MY test in this life. To maintain, to keep the boat afloat until I reach the shore someday, with a head full of knowledge that I know but don’t know, I don’t know. I’m certainly eternally grateful that at the very least, in this round, I learned/remembered more than any previous lifetime, I think, if that’s how this all works. Isn’t that weird to think about? Learning versus remembering? Do you ever really learn anything, or do you just remember things you already know? If your soul is immortal, then wouldn’t you just be remembering what you already know? Immortality is a lonnnnnnnnng time, & your eternal self must know quite a bit, yes? Anyway, it’s a fascinating idea to ponder; are you learning, or remembering?

As always, I digress, & in this article, I went all over the place. Nonetheless, I left several links, & offered quite an illustrative perspective, so as aforementioned, take what you want, or take nothing at all. The choice is yours, not mine, I’m just here to help you help yourselves by exposing the truth. That’s all I do, I only have one station, one lone station I tune in to, & so I turn the dial, a bit to the left, then back to the right, searching, static, & then SHAZAM, I capture a frequency, tune into said frequency, then let my fingers fly, fly like a flock of seagulls. The birds, not the band, but maybe kind of the band too, because Mike Score was quite a good lyricist, & Flock of Seagulls was much more than the song “I Ran.” That whole album is amazing, so rather than a one-hit wonder, they’re more of a Greatest Hits blowout wonder, which is more than enough to ride out for a lifetime, as they’ve done, & still tour, in fact. I had an analogy in there somewhere, so if you find it, let me know. Anyway, game over for this Foozer. Until next time dear readers, you can run all night & day, but you can never get away. So sayeth FisH™, paraphrasing Mike Score…

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

“You can run, run all night & day, but you can never get away.” Fish F Fish ℅ Mike Score.

It’s a Simp World After All

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.

Click HERE to Find YOUR Truth

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

The Fooze: S1 E22 1/22/2023 Houses for Nuts

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.