Isn’t it odd that when people pass each other, total strangers more-often-then-not, & they say, “How’s it goin?,” or ,”How are you?” that the reply is almost always positive? “How’s it goin?,” “Good thanks, & you?” It never fails. Wouldn’t it be great if we were all totally honest in that scenario? “How’s it goin?” “I’m fucking miserable. I live in dreams because this prison planet 3d Earth is hell & I’m too afraid of HELL Hell being real to off myself, so I keep grinding it out, day after wretched day.” Now I wonder how the original person who asked would respond to a reply like that. If I had to guess, I’d wager that the original asker wouldn’t even address it, but rather, just keep walking on, content to be going in the other direction from this person, this total stranger, who gave a brutally honest response to her query as to how they were doing. They ask, but if you tell the raw truth, somehow it turns sour for you. I just think it’s funny how people do this all day long, say this same mundane greeting all day long, to get an equally mundane reply that suggests a pseudo-reality where one is actually “doing good,” & means it.
I tend to say, “What’s happening?” since I always try to throw a bit of uniqueness into everything I do. I’ve noticed a lot of people lately are saying, “My dude,” & “Stay safe out there,” is also becoming part of the daily verbal zeitgeist. Trend trend trend, that’s how things go here in Clownworld 2023, things trend, the novelty lives, then dies, the marketers get paid, & on to the next one, like some bizarre formula. Just another way the so-called “ruling elites” control everyone, by keeping you busy with trends, & the exploitation of novelty. Geez, at this rate, there has to essentially ALWAYS be novelty out there for consumption because the seas have gone from steady head-high waves to choppy waist-high ripples with a strong undercurrent. Gotta always be first, gotta always be number one at the water cooler, the level to which humanity has been programmed blows my fucking mind. Despite being completely destitute & haggard, at least I know what’s really going on, not that it makes any difference, but for my own soul’s sake, I am thankful I’m not oblivious to what this world really is, & what is this wicked world?
Hard to say exactly, obviously, as I can merely speculate. What I speculate is this: Somehow, & I don’t know when, but somehow, this planet was hijacked by some kind of outer-dimensional entity that thrives from soul energy. Since souls are immortal, it cannot destroy them, but it can feed from them, so this entity searches for planets where it can feed from the souls incarnate there. When you die, most people say, “Go into the Light,” but this is incorrect, for it’s a false light. Sure, it feels all warm, & blissful, so serene, but when you go into “the Light,” your memories are erased as this entity feeds on your eternal soul power, & then once it’s done, POOF, you’re recycled back here in this 3d Earth space to do it all over again. This entity has minions, minions here on earth, in power positions, minions that help this God-damned thing, in exchange for power here in this 3d space. They worship it, they call it Lucifer, & whether or not you believe in it, they do. There is a real Light, of course, but it is not the one presented to you upon your respective demise. The real Light leads somewhere else, somewhere far away from this prison planet, so it’s important that when you die, you do NOT go into the immediate Light that is presented before you. What’s the rush? Just stop, wait, be patient, see where else you can go. Is there another Light? You must be careful though, because this dark entity is very seductive, one might say. The Light is so warm, so peaceful, so full of pure bliss, but that’s the trap, the soul trap. Once this entity has you, there’s now way out, & it gets away with this because you willingly surrender yourself to it. That’s why there’s seemingly no divine entity stopping it, because YOU give yourself over to the false light. It’s a soul trap at all levels. Or, I could be totally wrong & this is all just bullshit.
It’s not like anyone will remember anything once they die, since I’m thinking it’s similar to going to sleep. When you sleep, when you dream, do you recall being here at all? I don’t, but I’m a weirdo mental patient, so don’t listen to anything I spew here. On that note, I’m done here. Until next time dear readers, be mindful of false light, for it isn’t only in the afterlife…it’s here as well. So sayeth FisH™🎏
REMINDER: The DONATE button is to the right if you open my site up into full-site mode…just scan that QR code to donate to my PayPal. The FisH™ abides, & is without a job for now, so anything/everything helps. Thanks dear readers…FisH™ loves you. Cheers. 🎏
Job-less…as in if you have a job, I have less than you, I suppose. Man, I am in quite a pickle, but, you know what mantra yours truly adopted lonnnnnng ago, & needs to resurrect, desperately, & what mantra might that be? Great question, thanks for playing. That mantra, of course, is quite simple…”fuck it.” Can’t take anything with you, can you?…sooooooo fuck it…FUCK IT. None of this, THIS, & with an italicized & respectively capitalized THIS, I mean this…life, existence, gathering resources, you can’t take anything with you when you go. The people who excel at such notions, have kids, & their kids before them had kids, & so, the dynasties grow, except in my world. The bloodline stops with me, being childless by choice, although now I realize that was a selfish choice, or was it? Do I contribute to the consumerism, or do I end it with me, & thus, this gene pool dries up & simply removes itself from the equation, is that still the move?
Sure seems like it…yep, middle-aged, no kids, no real skills, Jesus Christ, I really fucked up on this whole “life” thing, didn’t I? It’s a bit difficult when there’s zero encouragement around to help you excel at your own divinely-given natural talents. I blame myself, of course, but how can I blame ONLY myself? I can’t, YOU can’t. When people say, “You have no one to blame but yourself,” I cringe. Sure, yes, I get it, my choices, my faults, my responsibilities, it’s all on me, I GET IT for fuck’s sake, but, a big BUT, why can’t you blame other people too? I know there’s a new quote in there somewhere…I can smell it. I can’t let this quote become a literary leper, now can I? I have something, but I don’t know…let’s see here(ponders for a moment staring at the ceiling while backing away from the computer). How about this? “Blame yourself first, then blame everyone else,” something like that, how does that sound? Sit on it, so to speak, like I am, & we’ll return to it at the end. Get it? Got it? Wunderbar.
Okay, now where were we? Oh yes, jobless & soon to be homeless, “here’s the deal, not a joke. Don’t jump”(Potato Brandon voice). It’s really mind-blowing, isn’t it? Yes, quite mind-blowing, one could say, that a corrupt used-car salesman failed politician piece of shit like Joe Biden, is arguably the most powerful man in the world now. While most of us wake up wishing it was nighttime so we could go back to sleep, or maybe it’s just me, but nonetheless, while we all suffer down here, these nepotistic dynasties gain more & more & more power. Money is irrelevant to them, just ones & zeros, but power, power is something you cannot put a price tag on. Power makes the price tags, power makes the stores where various items are all tagged & sold, power makes the roads you drive on to get to the store. You can’t buy power, you have to take it, & it’s a game most of us will never play, minus the pseudo-power games we play down here in The Great Mouse Trap. Power makes the world go around, & your tiny little fractions of power, just feed into a bigger machine that combines all your little powers into a bigger power, for THEM though, not for you, of course.
Nope, this whole life game is most certainly NOT what most of you think it is. Jobs…oy vey, “You have to get a job,”…but I hear, “You have to do something you don’t like doing, something that ruins a significant portion of your creativity time, all for little pieces of paper that will be totally worthless someday, maybe someday soon. Regardless, does that sound like “life” to you? Does that sound like “living,” to you? All I want to do is write, & paint, & make music, but you can’t just do those things because you need a job, a stupid fucking job, & for what? To get paid every 2 weeks with some table scraps from King Longshanks. Dang, I just read up on the old late Longshanks. Guy has been dead for 700ish years & STILL is worth more than you and/or I? Do you have a wiki page? Do you have historical records dating back centuries, well beyond the “23 & me” data mining scheme? Do you have your papers, your pedigree papers, do you have them? No, not a birth certificate, those are strictly for the peasantry. The elites have a pedigree, that goes wayyyyyyyyy back, to Roman times & beyond for some, but for us plebs down here, nope. Just a shitty birth certificate, that certifies that YOU, & yours truly as well, are owned, are property, owned by the aforementioned elites, owned from birth, just like cattle & sheep are.
Don’t believe me, then maybe DYOR, DO YOUR OWN RESEARCH, & when you discover that everything I’m writing bait is the TRUTH, come on back so I can digitally cock-slap you again. Edward 1, King Longshanks, is STILL more powerful than you, & he’s been dead for 700 years…let that sink in, & thats’ just Eng;and. Think of these shadow dynasties, all over the world. While the plebs gradually lose more & more, the elites, & their ilk, gain more & more power. Yes, they grow, while you die, & ultimately, that’s what they want, all of us, all of YOU, myself included, they want us dead, dead & gone. Once they’re in the big club, & given the secret, & that secret just illustrates their Great Reset plan. No, it isn’t just Agenda 2030, it’s a culmination of various agendas with an end goal of a drastic depopulation event. A new Holocaust, if you will, or a Sho ‘ah maybe? Uh oh, did yours truly look up the meaning of a Jewish word & discover something? Hmmmm, turns out that the origins of the word Holocaust, are Greek, & the word wasn’t even used until the late 70s, so what’s the deal here? Something smells fishy, pun intended. What about the infamously famous “6 million Jews” who were allegedly murderered? No, I’m not saying it dan’t happen, I’m just saying something smells fishy, & I know fish, trust me on this. The word Holocaust, essentially means “burnt offering to the Gods,” so, now stick with me here, what if the Jewish Holocaust was actually a sacrifice, orchestrated by themselves somehow, to gain the power they now hold today. No one can argue that the Jews, collectively, as well as individually, excel in celebrity, in finance, in media, in power positions, more-or-less, & their building a dynastic race of sorts, the ones that will really rule the world. I don’t know.
It was this tiny fringe minority of Zionist Jews who wanted to take over the world before AI, but now, it appears that it’s a contingent of ultra-rich people, using AI, using it to help them to gain even more power, & thus, the power game these elites play has not only changed fields, the entire sport is different. Make no mistake, those fringe Zionists are still there, lurking in the shadows like parasitic cockroaches, but it’s not only them anymore. While they play their power games, these relatively tiny few, the rest of us have to do what we can do to get by. There’s plenty for everyone, there’s abundance galore. Think about how much food gets wasted & thrown away at the grocery store every night. If everyone got a food card, a bunch of that food would get consumed, but nope, then they wouldn’t get paid to send it to a food bank so the peasants can pick through the rotting food for something plausibly palatable. Always about money…money money money…this artificially propped up joke of a currency. Where’s the true currency? Where’s the real energy flow keeping the zeitgeist rolling naturally, where is it? Why was it hijacked, & who did it? How did they do it? Doesn’t matter, does it? Is any of this drivel going to change what they’ve done, and are still doing, to the global populous?
Nope, nothing I say will make a difference, & my only hope is that maybe, with the seemingly random grace of The Universe, perhaps someone will find this one day & read it, & know what was really going on in the present moment, rather than these scripted narratives via the BROADCAST “news” PROGRAMS that so many people still believe, & abide by. Abiding lies, particularly these blatant lies spewed out by the Fake News Mainstream Media, is a slow death to me. You live lies, you believe things that a aren’t real and/or true, & live accordingly, & therefore, you life is a lie. This is the proverbial YOU I’m addressing this to incidentally, not YOU you, you know what I mean? Who else do you know that can pull off the wondrous triple YOU in ONE sentence? No one, because I just made it up, but I’m sure someone else has done it, somewhere else, but I digress, now here was I? Oh yes, I was wrapping this one up before my black ass falls asleep, holy hell, how do I do this? I just start typing & then these words manifest, & you read them in my past, as I write them in my present. It’s all a bit surreal, is it not? Push the little buttons monkey, then hit this button & your little monkey drivel is published, so that other little monkeys can throw their own poop at this, but since you’re shadowbanned, no one will see this little monkey, not even the poopoo-throwers. Too bad, very sad, sad for you, little monkeys. Inside all of us, perhaps there’s a sad little monkey, but I can only speak for myself, & my own sad little monkey on my back.
On that note, you fishy little monkeys, my dear readers, the time has come once again to wrap up this article. Until next time, if you’re not pedigreed, you aren’t one of them. So sayeth FisH™…
For all of you, & for none of you at all…
If you’re not pedigreed, you’re a mutt, just like most everyone else.” Fish F Fish
“Blame yourself first, then blame everyone else.” Fish F Fish
I got nothing else to do, & I can’t sleep my life away, so I decided to write, blah blah blah blahbaba. What to write about, what to write about? My upcoming cross-country trip maybe, that’s exciting, right? Unfortunately, I feel like it’s the last time though. Numero quatro, that’s right, my FOURTH trip across the country. Dang, what a ride, pun intended. There’s nothing like driving across this once great country, & since it’s been ohhhhh…7ish years or so, since I did it the last time, it should prove interestingly nostalgic to see how the country has changed, & how it hasn’t changed at all. I already can picture the feeling of seeing the bridge, & then a little city, then the crab trap place, then the old hometown, now with a bypass around it I hear. I don’t know, since I haven’t been that way in quite awhile, but nonetheless, as I said, going home is going to be very nostalgic, nostalgically surreal, to be perfectly specific.
I have no idea what to expect; but I am deftly excited to see the beach. Fuckin hell, I’ve been by the beach my ENTIRE life, minus these last long seven years. What have I been doing for fuck’s sake way out here? Sheesh. Nothing accomplished really, except the ins & outs of the cannabis industry. It’s bizarrely overrated, & over-populated with millennial twerps. This entire state is so gay, it’s ridiculous. Can’t have the weed without the nonsense I guess, I don’t know, but the industry is analogous to the bar scene. Older guys like me are pushed out, as if we’re boomers or something, as the millennial generation delusional assumes that they have taken the reigns, so to speak, & are now in charge. How about go fuck yourselves you little punks? None of you would even be here if not for us, & as if on queue, this is the UN-thanks we get. What more can one expect from a bunch of self-entitled “woke” little posers? God forbid you let them know that too, because then you just get fired, & replaced like you were nothing, trust me on this one.
Regardless, departure time is approaching, & then 28ish hours later, I’ll be home. Please God or Buddha or Sweet Baby Jesus, whoever is up there, PLEASE let my car, & myself obviously, make it home safely. I try not to ask much, & I know I’m a self-centered narcissistic prick, but I’d prefer to die later in life, not on the road home, know what I mean big guy? So whoever is up there, watching over me, please watch over me on this ride. Amen. Thanks. Much appreciated. I don’t know why I’m so anxious…sheesh. Relax…relax…relax…shhhhhh…find the stairs, the stairs that lead to the happy place, then simply walk up them, & let all the anxiety go. You’re almost free, what’s there to worry about? Road trips are fun, especially cross-country. Most people might do it once in their life maybe, mainly because most people don’t leave their respective hometowns, unless they’re flying somewhere. Flying across the country, versus driving across the country, is night & day. Yes, flying is much more convenient, & it’s certainly much faster, but driving gives you so much more satisfaction, once the journey has been completed. You get another notch on the belt, as they say, & for me, like I mentioned earlier, this will be my 4th notch.
Unless that whole thing about “threes” is correct, like when people say things happen in “threes,” so maybe I’m just starting my second round of cost-country trips. Not sure why I’d want to come back, but maybe I will. Who knows? If I could predict the future, I’d be light years away from where I am now. Sadly though, I cannot, & the future, to me, is as speculative as it is to you. More so, in fact, considering I spend a lot of time pondering the future, which needs to change. Seriously, fuck the future. I can’t know what’s coming, so why keep stressing it? Just live in the present, in the moment, & so, in this moment right now, I’m going to wrap up this post. Threw you a bit of a curveball at the end, I know, but no worries. I know time is short, short for everyone, relatively speaking, & I’m done wasting it. Time to get up, man up, & move on, onward, onward & upward we hope, but we shall see soon enough, one way or another. Until next time dear readers, when the proverbial shit hits the fan, get out of the room, before the shit fan flings poopoo on you. So sayeth FisH™…🎣
For all of you, & for none of you at all…🐡
“When the shit hits the fan, leave the room.” Fish F Fish🎏
Hail to Jellatinous Portal. No, not a band name, albeit a crafty one; it’s the literal wordery here, in where my trickerosity lies. Tis’ in the initialization, JP, that’s the initials of, what I believe to be, one of our modern-day, legendary-status living pop culture “icons,” if I may be so bold. I can’t think of anyone else, to be frank, who can hold a candle to this amazingly unique individual. He gives so much, so much to the world, so much to YOU, he’s given much to me. Regardless of that, some people actually want this guy stripped of his credentials, & forced to be “re-educated,” whatever the fuck that means. It’s such a joke, this plasticized world of arrested-development children, in power positions, making rules for those they deem as “beneath them,” & thus, must apparently now be “forced,” to assimilate, or be destroyed. This isn’t hyperbolic, or exaggerated, or fictionalized, in any way, what I’m talking about is very real, unfortunately, & despite the long-game-slow-kill efforts of these elitist pigs, PIGS, just like the book Animal Farm, where the pigs are in charge, well what a coincidence…power-hungry pigs rule this 3d matrix too, according to them anyway, & seemingly according to most of you, who follow these pigs, & abide the dominion of said pigs. Why do you listen to pigs? Why do you pay extortion taxes, to pigs? Why do you let these pigs live in castles, like royalty, while you live in the gutter? Why do we keep letting these ruthlessly sinister porky-pigs, who worship avatars of chaos & destruction, & create chaos & destruction to appease their pseudo-god, why do we keep letting them even be? Imagine a world with no pigs, no pigs at all, minus the ones we eat, because I like eating pigs, with a delightful barbecue sauce, not let them shape my destiny from their high towers.
Who is this JP? Well, if you haven’t put it together yet, I’ll give you a hint…it surely must be that dastardly straight white family man from Canada, the alt-right white supreme pizza, that figurehead of the modern-day neo-Nazi, but where is a safespace? RED ALERT, RED ALERT, REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…honk honk honk honk honk, there’s a REEEEEEEEEEEEE-cist showing up in the article, oh my oh my, whatever will we do? Derp, get back to Starbucks ya rainbow-haired gamma gophers. You hold no place here, now back to your soy lattes, double the soy. See ya. Now that the clown car has taken the express ramp off of a cliff hopefully, who am I talking about already? Don dada donnnnnnn…could it be? Can I be? Would I dare? How dare you Fish, you failed fool, how dare you bring this man’s name up….& here we go. I’m talking about Jordan Peterson, of course(make sure you spell my name right when you report me), YES, The Doctor is in the house, Dr. Jordan Paterson, the spiritual rebirthing of Jung & Nietzsche, combined with your favorite high school biology teacher(shoutout to Mr. Williams if you’re still amongst the living). Yes, DOCTOR Jordan Peterson, & said Doctor, helped me find the way, helped me to find the key to the golden door, when that key was always just dangling from a cheap chain around my neck, like when I was a latchkey kid in the 80s. This key, however, was stuck in a crack, a crack created by a terrible series of traumatic head injuries that weren’t properly treated. Left me a bit…foggy, you could say, for a long time. Sprinkle the purple haze of drug addiction on top of that, & damn if I just never saw that fucking key in the crack. It never left, it never rusted, if anything, it became a stronger key, as the steel propane-flame cured itself in the 4d spiral of time, waiting patiently for me to find it, when the fog had lifted.
Enter Jordan Peterson, at my own middle-age, but nonetheless, enter the keymaster. I have known the key was there, make no mistake, I have always been a writer, have always written, have always been able to go to the well & fill the bucket as needed. It just comes to me, & I don’t know how or why really, even now, but sure enough, I just let myself go, go into the flow, & what do ya know, THIS comes out. THIS, this writing that I’m illustrating for you, in real-time, but is now pastime, if you’re reading this now. My most special journals go back decades, hand-written, old-school journaling, kind of like this, on the daily, but with an actual pen, so it’s different. There’s an organic aspect to physical writing with a pen, & once it’s down on hard paper, the spell has been cast, & the words are now out there, blowing around in a whippety wind-whirlpool in the middle of an empty city block, until it blows into someone’s face. The digital pen involves a whole other dimension of creation to it, particularly if what you write you post on the Internet publicly for a global audience of all & none. The paper blowing in the wind whirlpool can now blow into the faces of potentially millions. Takes much longer for the physical pen, but the payoff, I’d imagine, would be glorious. GLORIOUS. Imagine handwriting a book, literally, then having it published, & it’s content appealing so much to a local audience, that eventually, the world finds it. Wow, what glory. Surely though, there’s a similar glory if ANY of your publishings happen to find reception from millions of eager beavers that can’t wait to see what you write next, right?
I don’t know, nor will I ever know, unless one of these rants that I channel from the big crockpot, making sure I get all the meat & potatoes that one can handle into the bowls of soup I serve from Source, to the slaves, to myself, to all of you, & to none of you at all. My soup is hot, hot out of the gate, because that’s how I serve it up. Who likes cold soup? My soup is so hot in fact, that your big tech overlords have exiled me from the majority of social media platforms, leaving me only this, my only thing I have left, my words. I guess TRUTH doesn’t work so well here in Clownworld. Virtue is verboten, & thought-criminal dissidents like me who know where all the exits are from The Great Mouse Trap, & then kick open the exit doors yelling, “Run free little mice, for you are mice no more, you are men, now run, you are free,” we are not welcome. Oh wait, but they just stand there, the mice just stand & stare, aimlessly eye-balling me, gawking at me like the village leper, like the exiled one, & maybe that’s because I am, for I’m surely exiled, digitally, & now in real-life, the moldy mold on the fetid fruits has spread, as I type from this proverbial jail cell that I’m always in. My own prison within The Great Mouse Trap. Maybe that’s why I know where all the exits are, because I never got through them, & just stay stuck, stuck in The Great Mouse Trap, with all these other menacingly moldy mice, no different, & certainly no better. I don’t know, I don’t know anymore, all I know is the writing, following this little Tinkerbell, & she keeps saying, “Write, write, for your time is running out, so write, like it is,” & she’s right, my time is running out methinks.
Ultimately, everyone’s time is running out, but particularly mine, I wonder if I’m near the end, at this middle-age I’ve reached. My grandfather died at the same age I am, from a heavy heart attack, & I could see that same scenario playing out for me. Just hanging out one day, probably between my paragraphs, as that’s usually when I leave my radio tower, in the gap between paragraphs. Yep, maybe I’m going to the fridge, maybe having a smoke, who knows, but all of a sudden, WHAM, OUCH, fuck my chest hurts, GAHHHH, my arm is numb, then oh fuck, I’m having a heart attack, & then what happens? I fall out, just going unconscious, like going to sleep, but not waking up this time? Damn, that’s a sordid scene. I’d hate for someone to find me unconsciousness and/or dead. Yikes. That’s how grandpa went though, wayyyyyyyyy before my mom decided to let herself get knocked up & have me. I have the traits of my grandfathers, the intelligence, the jovial wit, along with a dangerously addictive nature & reckless self-destruction. Ultimately, the failed fool, & I got all of it, one granddad dying a drunk, the other dying at the same age I am right now. Hmmm, kind of sounds like I’m genetically fucked then, yeah? Oh well, fuck it. I know death, as much as one can “know” death anyway from this 3d vantage point, & I know death is not an ending, so to speak. It’s only the end of this, this end of this 3d life of unwelcome incarceration. Thus, it’s a most-welcomed-ending then in fact, yes?…for those souls sick of being soul-sucked, stuck in this restrictive 3d meat suit, stripped of the memory of my our 5d immortality, our true selves, our Higher Selves.
Anyway, Jordan Peterson has an online writing course that I highly recommend. It’s a “Self-Authoring” course, practically titled, “Self-Authoring,” & involves guess what? Authoring YOU, yourself, writing about you, your life, & what happens when you do this writing course? I equate it to higher math, like anything algebraic & up. Math equations & proofs, designed to stimulate more complex synapses in the brain, well writing tasks have a similar function, in the sense that the more your write, the more you accumulate, the more your brain fires off electricity into fractally branching stems of elevated thought trees. It’s an essential nutrient, to keep your trees bearing their respective fruits, & the genius of the simplicity of this notion?…just write. WRITE, then keep writing. It doesn’t mater what you write, or even if you CAN write like a writer might, just WRITE. If your life has come to a cul-de-sac full of boarded-up crackhouses, figuratively of course, & no one else is around, & it’s only you left in the room, write about it. If all else has failed you, write about it. WRITE, WRITE, WRITE & as a lifelong writer, most surely, I have had periods of nil writing. Such wasted time, those lost pages, because I can only write about those times now from a present-perspective, rather than reflect on any actual real-time writing from the past, oh those many lost pages, so many I never wrote. Now I know my time grows cold, as my toilet has almost flushed itself away, I have to write like the crazy madman, much like I’m writing now in real-time, because the clock ticks away, faster & faster, flush flush flush, flush that toilet of 4d time away into the past. Who left a stinker? Go spray for fuck’s sake, the after-stench is stinking up the whole house ya filthy animal. (Fart Noise)
Sadly for me, he’ll never ever never never read this, as my view stats are around 20 visitors a day, so the odds of Jordan Peterson being one of those 20 readers, is analogous to assuming I just bought a winning Powerball ticket. Nope, never going to happen, as is anything ever going to happen in this horribly fucked-off life I’ll leave behind someday, maybe someday soon, via the unbearable stress of my own existence causing my heart to fail me. Or maybe one of my other organs? Maybe a car crash, like the one I have so many horrible visions of? Perhaps the powers-that-be will take me out? Or I’ll just keep going, towards directions unknown, who knows? I blink my eyes, & I was 5, then blink them again, & now I’m 45, so perhaps I’ll blink them again, & be 85, or blink the same eyes, only to never open them again here in this world tomorrow. You never know, when you’re going to go. Dang, all kinds of fishisms in this article, see the quotes at the bottom. In case you didn’t notice, I’ve been leaving my own quotes at the bottoms of my posts. Dropping rhymes like dimes, you could say. At the end of the year, when my 365-day straight writing project completes its first COMPLETE yearly cycle, If I make it, if I’m still here, I’m going to take all my pages of accumulated quotes, & put them into another book of mine, only this time self-published by yours truly. No more “someone else,” it’s all me from here. Too many parasitic snapdragons out there, don’t need anyone else to make my melody, I’ll do it myself thanks.
The spinning record spins, right round baby like a record going round round right round, & it’s time to go, dear readers. Until next time, don’t be a dope, check out my quotes, not only below, but from before, don’t ya know? Best check my older posts, and/or jump into my archives. Closing in on 5000, 5000 pages for you to pursue dear reader. That was nice of me, wasn’t it? Go ahead & form a line to the left to shake my hand & offer thanks, as I’m as humble as ever towards my audience of faceless ghosts. No one cares, no one ever did, no one ever will, & such is the way for the walk for this Jobian fish. Jordan Peterson helped, but there is no help for me, for I am forsaken. Still, Dr.Peterson’s “Self-Authoring,” program will open up the Pandora’s box inside yourself, letting your true self peek out, like a baby roo in a pouch, except once your true self peeks out, so do all the shadows of said self. The only way to confront those shadows, is to open that box though, setting them free, along with yourself, because that’s how you find yourself, the self that you lost long ago, should you find yourself in a similar position as I. Until next time, dear readers, check out his site, just click the link above, then thank me later should you take the course. & run your own gauntlet. So sayeth FisH™🎣
For all of you, & for none of you at all.🐡
“You never know, when you’re gonna go, go, go.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
“Oh, those lost pages, so many I never wrote.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
“Tend to your fruit-bearing trees, feed them well.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
“Run free little mice, for you are mice no more, you are men, now run, you are free.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
“The key to unlock the door, has always been noosed around your own neck.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
“Don’t venerate pigs.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
“While you think of something to say, I await the end of the conversation.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
Unfortunately the world has lost a fancy-fingered gem of a musician, the great Burt Bacharach. Yes, at the young age of 94, sadly he has pushed his final piano key. The first of three, maybe, as these things happen in “threes,” as the proverbial they say, so who might be next? Fun game to play with friends, when a “person of note” dies, you try & guess who the next two in line will be. Kind of morbid, sure, but it’s just a part of life, is it not? Hmmm, I smell a quote in there somewhere…something kind of oxymoronic perhaps? Life is death, death is life, Finkel is Einhorn, doot-doodoot-doodoot…what can I do with that? Let’s see, how about, “Embrace death as you embrace life, as every ending is a new beginning,” …something along those lines, but not that exact quote. It’s…”incomplete,” you might say, so I’ll ponder it as I write, & maybe give you a solid quote at the end of this Friday Foozer. Or maybe I’ll just let Burt quote me out on this one, we’ll see at the end. Fridays to Fridays, like nights to days nowadays, the progression of the flushing toilet of 4d time progresses ever faster it seems.
It was 1972 now over FIFTY years ago, wow, it’s just incredible, this whole 4d time thing, the Great Time Spiral, pulling 3d “forward,” forward into the future, so surreal, isn’t it? Check out this link before I continue on about times past. This is a TV special from 1972, featuring the late Burt Bacharach. Notice how amazingly different it was back then, where do I begin? Well, technically, after this video below, that’s where I’ll “begin,” but I meant figuratively, where does one begin when they try to illustrate the stark differences between 1972 & 2023? Like 2 totally different worlds, but nope. Same world I think, but maybe we jumped timelines into Clownworld, I don’t know, but my oh my, how times change, as this collective macroorganism evolves/devolves into…into…drats, I wish I knew, as it’s metamorphosis is ongoing in real-time, the chrysalis clown in its clown-car cocoon, can you hear the cacophony of nose-horns? Honk honk honk…honk…
👇🏻ROLL THE CLIP👇🏻
Well how about that? A televised show showing people who can show you their respectively individual ACTUAL talent, as opposed to the grossly talentless manufactured productions they broadcast “for the kids” nowadays. Have you seen the new Disney cartoon? If not, get out from under your rock & catch-up, ya uninformed tomato. Ready for another gem? Let’s see what Matt Walsh has to say, with a preview of this ridiculous animated cartoon FOR KIDS. As an animator, & someone who can reason out the MILLIONS of dollars that were invested in hiring animators, script writers, producers, directors, voice actors, on & on & on, all for this bullshit below, it makes me sick. This is being broadcast to KIDS, keep that in mind as you watch, & think about the cartoons you used to watch. Still remember the catch phrases don’t you? Keep that in mind as well. Ok, here we go…
👇🏻ROLL THE CLIP👇🏻
“SLAVES BUILT THIS COUNTRY!!” …repeated over & over, & kids being the sponges they are, are soaking all this up & integrating it into their developing brains. It’s so utterly sickening, so dark, so sinister, gah, & they just keep pushing. Apparently, they’re getting a lot of backlash for this racist production, but if it’s racism against whites, nope, shhhh…move along, & despite the widespread online criticism, it won’t change a thing, & Disney is going to keep doing this. It’s not he first time they’ve injected their “woke garbage into children’s programming, so why would it be the last? RAH RAH RAH…RABBLE RABBLE RABBLE…sure, there’s going to be the “backlash,” but they don’t care. Do you understand? THEY DO NOT CARE. #WhiteManBad is the hashtag buzz-phrase that people of color who buy into this ridiculousness live by. Whatever the issue, #WhiteManBad, but I have facts, fuck you #WhiteManBad. The “white man is bad,” so “oppressive,” …derp. Apparently, now it is to the point that kids can be openly indoctrinated via publicly televised children’s programming with these horrible themes, CRT ideologies such as, “SLAVES BUILT THIS COUNTRY!!” …get the fuck outta here with this already. My ancestors weren’t even here, but I’m white, so what happens now? Fucking morons, round & round with the REEEEEE-cisms, until they get paid, which is really all they want, money. How sad, all the “civil rights” strife, all just about money, & power of course. Ask BLM.
Anyway, so that grossly inappropriate catchphrase, “SLAVES BUILT THIS COUNTRY!!”…yeah, that’s going to be stuck with these unfortunate kids forever now…FOREVER. Hell, it’s even stuck in my head now, & I’m in my 40s, so imagine the kids, these innocent CHILDREN, being programmed by viciously malevolent adults, to grow up thinking this country was in fact, “built by slaves.” First of all, it wasn’t, as Matt Walsh states right from the get-go, & second, WHAT THE FUCK are you “woke” dunces at Disney thinking with this OBVIOUS agenda? Seriously, WE ALL KNOW, we all know you’re degenerate racist pedos, & you should all be hung by the neck until DEAD, DEAD, DEAD. This “agenda’ is so sinister, ugh, THESE ARE KIDS FOR FUCK’S SAKE. I don’t even have any kids, & I this infuriates me, so I can only imagine how parents feel. Well, at least the parents who are aware, & I know there’s many a parent out there who is NOT aware, NOT informed, & so they just stick their fatherless kids in front of the television all day to be programmed, programmed by the “woke agenda.” No one ever mentions the parents incidentally, usually no father-figure, so they always go after Disney, or whoever else they can blame OTHER THAN the parent/s. Then you can argue that the breakdown of the nuclear family plays into this future catastrophe as well, but I won’t digress into that topic, as I’ve already segued off from the title up there, the RIP to old Burt. Maybe that’s all, all “the world needs now…is love, sweet love. That’s the only thing, that there’s just too little of.”
Well, we will miss you Burt, but you made it to 94 ya crooner, & what a life, so many songs, in so many heads, after riding in so many elevators, which is the only place you might hear a Burt Bacharach ditty. I jest, I jest, he was great, very talented, as are many Jews from that era who hail from Queens. It’s an interesting phenomenon, all these famous Jews from Queens from the 1920s to the 1960s, there was a Renaissance of sorts, maybe it had something to do with World War 2, I don’t know, & NO, NO NO NO NO NO it’s NOT anti-Semitic to ask questions like this…sheesh. “Why are so many talented people from Queens in the golden age of media Jewish?” How the fuck is that anti-Semitic? It’s simple curiosity, & many of them are very talented, & I respect their respective talents, I just find it odd that there are so many from that specific area that go on to find fame & fortune. That’s all, don’t throw me to the “you’re a Nazi” wolves over it. The proverbial eggshells are all broken, so I’m just gonna walk like I always do, one foot in front of the other, & if it bothers any of you, this pseudo-bigotry you delude yourselves into believing is real, then maybe kick rocks…& go on a long uphill hike, up a mountain, the highest mountain, to the highest peak, look up at the beautiful blue sky, & the fluffy white clouds, close your eyes, then jump you lemmings. How bout them apples?
Free speech is FREE speech, period..& “hate speech,” is just a liberal myth, part of the socially-engineered indoctrination agenda, like most of the buzzwords they regurgitate as they puke their word vomit all over the place. SO OVER IT. Anyway enough of the ranting, as that’s gonna do it for today’s daily Foozer. Until next time, I’ll leave a video of one of Burt’s greatest hits below. No FisH™quote today, I’ll let Burt fill in the gaps on this one. So pour a glass, light a smoke, eat a pancake, & enjoy the music of the late Burt Bacharach below. Rip sir. Travel well to your next destination. Hey, that’s not bad, I’ll do quote, AND Burt below, how about that, dear readers? Sound good?(pin intended) …& I’m out. So sayeth FisH™🎏
For all of you, & for none of you at all.
“Travel well to your next destination.” ~Fish F Fish🎣
This is gonna be an exceptionally short one, but apparently there’s going to be a close fly-by of an asteroid tomorrow. Will anything happen? NO, nothing at all, they just do this to build the collective fear of the herd…ie. all of YOU. Tiny fractions of fear porn, but delivered all day, every day, via every outlet, & it all adds up. Just another little red pill from my fish-head Pez dispenser, so don’t be scared, unless you look up tomorrow & see a giant asteroid coming your way. Until next time, beware the bloody bolides. 🎏
Sunday, a Sunday where Trump won the election, as he fairly did before they openly stole it, got away with stealing it, then ruined the country in record time after stealing said election in what was arguably a soft coup. What a great Sunday in the Sun that would be had things gone honestly, my oh my oh my, but they didn’t, did they?…& as if life wasn’t unfair enough, now we’re all stuck in the shit & I’m back down at the bottom of the well, yet again.I thought “never again” & here I am, waiting for the sun to cross over the hole to the sky, everything I had, gone.Yes, I’d still have what was “mine,” before they took it back, so I guess it never really was “mine,” now was it? Self-pragmatism is important. It’s more than money, it’s the currency of it, the energy, the flow, I’d have options & choices…I’d have more freedom, because freedom isn’t really free here. I was there though, I had it for a brief moment, I held it in my hands before it melted like Icarus on a sunshiny day. That dead dream from a year ago haunts me, broke me to be honest, broke me right in half, down to the pit. Cheers to the other me who is in that great timeline. Yes, that Sunday, that glorious Sunday, so much different than THIS Sunday. THIS Sunday sucks my surly sack, as it’s just another sad Sunday in this alternate backwards Clownworld upside-down timeline. I don’t know. I don’t get it, but here we are I guess, still, for now. Seriously, how did we get on this timeline? Do any of you find yourself asking the same questions to yourselves? If any of my CIA handlers are reading this, first off, go fuck yourself you devious twat, & second, can you get me outta here already? This bullshit fucking sucks, your game fucking sucks, your psychopathic demonic nature fucking sucks, fuck you all, I fucking hate you all & will hate you all until you all remove me from this game so I can really hate you after I’m gone the fuck outta this Clowntown circus. manipulating reality is fucking weird & some dark arts evil shit. Fuck off & leave me out of it from now on, please & thank you. Sheesh.
FLASH: Just had one of my quick visions, a vision from a dream. Oh man, this one is gonna be tricky to illustrate. It’s on an island, like a small island, maybe a few square miles, maybe a bit more, there’s room to drive a car on a road aroudn the island, but you can only drive…drive a certain way, gah…I can see the dream in my head now but it’s so weird to explain it out loud. There’s like these rules, I’m in a cabin, maybe a friend or two there, it’s like they are then they aren’t then they are…we kinda bullshit around, reminding me of smoking pot at a friend’s house in the 9th grade, but definitely NOT the same, just a similar, oddly nostalgic feel. There’s a cabin, this cabin is liek a studio cabin maybe, a couch, bed, just a mattress, boxspring, no sheets, maybe no pillow either, but there are these…”rules,” like a video game, you can only move a certain way. This particular dream has happened more than once, same exact place, same exact vibe, same weird “rules,” everything the same, I’ve been there twice for sure that I can distinctly recall, like the same dream twice really, & maybe a flash of the same dream another one or two times randomly, but only the 2 VERY distinct times can I recall because it was like the same dream twice, as I mentioned. What are those strange rules? It’s so bizarre, it’s as if I know, & I know that I know, so much so do I know that I know, that I’m wondering why I can’t recall what I so easily know. Dreams, what the fuck is going on there?
Is death just like dreaming? When you sleep, you get “tired,” you lay down, you close your eyes, you have no fear as you pass away into the darkness, only to reawaken in another dimension more conscious than you are when you’re awake here most times, with abilities you do not have when you open your eyes from that darkness most times, with memories you cannot recall when you pop back into the waking world most times…it’s so surreal, literally…most times. Is death the same? You fade away, you know death is coming for you, you close your eyes, you let go, then nothing, until you awaken somewhere else with no conception of time you spent away in the void. It’s all moment to moment, no matter where those moments occur and/or in what dimension they occur within. The notion that it’s all just over is impossible, because you cannot know that it’s “over,” hence you just snap back into consciousness somewhere else, moment to moment, but infinitely. I don’t know, what do I know?
I’m just a scribe, just an illustrator of whatever is going on around my world, way out here on the perimeter, where the seas wave back at you. Take that as a quip for the day, or take a dump on it when you hit the morning toilet after your black-like-Poppy coffee & a dawn-time cigarette of the finest cured Turkish delight crop. Until next time, just be.
Do you know who has two thumbs and is broke? Your humble narrator, this guy(thumbs pointing back at myself), that’s who. So, as some of you may have noticed, I now have a “Donations” widget over on the right side of my page there. You see it? Any and all donations are accepted SECURELY, just click the Paypal box plz. Devoting myself completely to my writing and vids and research leaves little time for actual $-making. Such is the way of things. In some other dimension, the monetary means of survival are less of a burden I’m sure. But we are all stuck in this paradigm, aren’t we? My job here doesn’t pay with paper money, so I THANK YOU for your kindness, thx for reading, thx for watching, thx for donating. Have no fear, I will be with you all as long as possible. The less I have to concern myself over $, the more time I can devote to writing, which is what I am here to do, help you all help yourselves. We are all in this together and most of us will be here to face this unprecedented future together. The great change is upon us all, are you ready? Wide eyes open, and again, thank you all so very much. Love to all.
EaT~aLL~YouR~FisH™ 