Duds in a Row

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 count doesn’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🎏

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: S2 E9 2/9/2023 Earthquakes

Oh my, looks like there was rumble in the Turkish jungle, a big one too, yikes. Can you imagine if an event like this happened here in the USA? Oh wait, with this pseudo-government in charge, the response would probably be as worse as the disaster itself. It would be one disaster cleaning up another, & unfortunately in this case, 2 negatives do NOT equal a positive. I’ve seen some videos of buildings toppling down in the aftermath, & it looks like the aftermath of a demolition. I mean, their construction standards aren’t quite up to par there as those in the western world methinks, but it was nothing but rubble left in some of the footage. Spooky, dang, that had to have been scary, especially if you were in one of those sub-standardly constructed buildings. I do not have the magic WordPress upgrade to directly link videos of my own to autoplay, only my no-skip GIFs, but I CAN link YouTube videos for you, if you want to watch some of the carnage.

👇🏻ROLL THE CLIP👇🏻

👇🏻ROLL ONE MORE CLIP…HOW BOUT SOME DRONE FOOTAGE?👇🏻

Damn, looks no bueno over there, sheesh. I have some questions though, yeah, I have a few questions fo sho. Since when are are earthquakes localized? Particularly, in the 2nd video up there, in the drone footage. There’s a building that’s practically dust, then ALL the other ones look fine. Where’s the steel frames too?…this eerily reminds me of the same sort of destruction that happened on 9/11, how about you? No, no tin-foil hats here for fuck’s sake. The novelty of that meme died back in 2018-2019, catch up ya played-out tomato. Not to mention, too many “theories” have proven true, as in almost ALL OF THEM, so put on them critical-thinking skills caps, & use your EYES, not your feewings, then explain to me how a massive earthquake only does localized damage? Look at these images:👇🏻

Look at the still-standing buildings around the piles of rubble that used to be buildings. Glass intact, no much visible outer damage, but the one building by the cranes, to the ground in a big mound of something doesn’t add up, as usual. Nature is weird, I get it, but look how far the undamaged buildings go, yet the corner building there got so rocked that it looks pulverized. That must be some strong glass in ALL of those other buildings, wow, is it made of diamonds maybe? Derp. I’m NOT saying a fucking earthquake didn’t happen, I already looked on the USGS for conformation, so unless that’s been altered, so to speak, the data shows a series of earthquakes & several aftershocks in Turkey. Still happening too, according to the USGS website. Here’s the link if you wanna look for yourselves:👇🏻

USGS Latest Earthquakes Worldwide

Unfortunately, the fake news narrative-driven scripted mass media agenda has soured the taste in my muted mouth, so I have to DMOR to verify EVERYTHING it seems, no matter what. So much theatre, who knows what is really what, know what I mean? Maybe you don’t know what I mean, as not everyone is a deep diver, are they? Many people think they have a clue, but don’t DTOR, they just regurgitate things they hear vicariously from others. Like these infernal buzzwords, one person hears it, then 12 people say it, it’s a bizarre phenomenon, isn’t it? I wonder if there’s a name for that, buzzwords that go socially viral via the zeitgeist, there must be some psychological term for that, right? Speaking of “terms,” you all know what those acronyms mean, don’t you? No? Yes? Maybe? The fundamental acronym is DYOR, Do Your Own Research, but the tweaks are DMOR, Do MY Own Research, & DTOR, Do THEIR Own Research, respectively. Now you know, & knowing is half the battle, right GI Joke?

Anyway, keeping this one relatively short, short for me anyway, a measly 4 or 5 paragraphs, more to come later in the day though, I must sleep sometimes, such is the way of the 3rd dimension. Until next time, when the script gets flipped, your ass gets whipped. So sayeth FisH™🎣

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

“When the script gets flipped, your ass gets whipped.” ~Fish F Fish🎏

Rage

There sure are a lot of angry people around lately. Have you noticed? Road rage, never fails, but even in everyday daily life, just madness, literally, & figuratively. Angry crazy people…yikes. No bueno. Is it the stresses of the daily grind? I don’t know, I don’t have a 9-5 job. They took that from me, remember? I’m not particularly angry per se, not outwardly, so I don’t think I’m attracting such negative energies, am I? Am I internally angry, causing me to unknowingly attract such energies. I don’t even interact with the general public much, so it’s not really directed directly at me, I just happen to notice. If I din’t pay attention, would I still notice, & therefore NOT attract unwanted malevolent forces? Drats. It’s puzzling me. The whole Law of Attraction thing in itself, not only puzzles me, but apparently also frustrates me, because I am frustrated about my frustrations as to why this concept seemingly doesn’t work for me. I suppose if it did actually work, everyone would get what they want? Are they getting what they want? What they really, really want? Like your favorite Spice Girls song, the ziggy-zig want, you “gaslighter” you…how can one call a crazy person a gaslighter? That’s an oxymoron, but I digress…

What about my own rage? What makes me rage-filled? I’ll give any other middle-aged straight man one guess. It rhymes with “Ski Vail.” What is the drag-you-down deal sometimes with them? Sheesh. Like one of those D & D dice with 100 sides, nearly impossible to guess the next roll, & if you do, it’s via raw luck, but still won’t end well for the roller, YOU. No sir, will NOT in a good way for you, ever. No one has time to play the guessing game with dice these days for fuck’s sake. Seriously with my serious face, I don’t know who collectively farted in your breakfast cereal from our side girls, but play time is over, been over, not even a stain on the road anymore over. Full monk-mode about to be drawn & quartered out. It would be so interesting to watch the global priorities of the sexes shift, if & when a massive cataclysm happens. Or the power ever goes out in a serious way. Or if World War 3 actually goes hot. Or the Titanic sinks. Can you imagine the populational response divided by the sexes, the TWO sexes. No, this little mind experiment of mine doesn’t involve “non-binary” mental patients. Even if I factored them into the equation, their total population is so minimal, there’s no point in even expending anymore energy than I already have by excluding them from my fantastical dystopia future scenario here. Honk on that ya weirdos.

No, I prefer humor. “Finding comedy in tragedy can be divine.” That’s an original right there from yours truly, at least I think it is. I find it a tough pill to swallow that I’m the first person to think up that generic little quip. I don’t know, maybe it’s not so generic, do I actually care…no. I mean, it could be generic, or it could be genius, or it could just be, & being is all that it needs to be. Unless you’re actually a bee, like the insect, then everything I just wrote takes on a whole new interpretation perhaps. So many tangents, if I really wanted to let the weird meter fly, fly like a bumbling bumble bee, see what I did there? You know how a dog is easily amused by a bone? These are my bones, these words, these words that I’m spelling, spelling, like a magic spell, is that not what these words are? Magic? They appear in my head, I move my hands as I illustrate these words in a way that YOU see, seeing them as they appear on your screen once I have spelt them out for you, & what was once my screen, is now your screen, & these words that I have spelled appear in your head, magic.

There’s a wonderful circularity in the flow of a well-channeled article. Are you really writing? Am I, really writing? Or am I just channeling? Is ALL of this…magic? Is this reality just an unending series of spells, spells being cast on everyone by everyone, spells cast over spells, so many spells, so much spelling. When one thinks of a word, one spells it out in their head, super-fast yes, but nonetheless, every word in your head is spelled out. Whether or not you spell those words out into the Universe by speaking them makes the difference. Each difference has the same dynamic; one is no different than the other as far as that goes, but what makes it different is inwardly versus outwardly spelling. Inward spelling affects YOU, just YOU, but outward spelling can affect the whole world sometimes. It is difficult to control one’s thoughts, so much so that often they are spoken aloud without reverence, & no real inclination as to the end results of the word magic being manifest in 3d space. It’s the vibrations. All vibrations resonate via 3d space, the “magic” is simply the vibrations running their respective courses. Some people know how to harness that magic, & use it, manipulate those vibrations to their advantage as they deem fit.

I am no magician, I’m just a skilled speller of the words, so I’m not really anything, it’s all just words, with occasional s/words. I just look for the circularity within the composition. It’s just a block of rock really to me, & I chisel away, starting at the front, or maybe the back, it doesn’t matter because it will always end where it begins. Maybe that’s all this is, the bittersweet harmony of the beginning, & the end, at the same time, all the time. Something stops, another goes, one light red, other light green, yellow lights are indifferent & left up to the driver. The road-raging driver, raging on the road that YOU took the off ramp onto. As if on cue, there’s my circularity. Right back to the rage from the get-go, the road rage. Hark to the road-rager, alone in their own car with their own rage, spelling out curses & demons to the other drivers, while never even checking the codes in their own car, not even that low tire. No, just keep revving up that raging lemon, rage, rage, right into that dying light, in your dying night. Ain’t that right? Sir Dylan Thomas?

None of you will get that reference…none of you, & maybe all of you. Who knows? “The ragers rage, from a corncobian cage.” There’s one more for the true Marvel fans. Maybe I’ll make a t-shirt that says, “Puke Narcissism,” with a giant farting pimply ass on the back, or maybe the front. The circle completes. Until next time, be good.

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