CLICK5: Roob’s Halloween Story Spoilers!

Missive From ‘Merica: Death On Denial

Hello there, Dear Reader 😀

*That’s rude… /lights up and smokes… Just ‘cos I let you write a few posts, Clicky, no need to get above yourself…*

Today we have an amazing missive from Cade Fon Apollyon for your reading pleasure – see below – and…

*I was just getting to that…*

… The latest Underdog Anthology has now been published. So you can go buy and read it 😀 Death features in a number of the stories, and as Death comes for us all, it might be a good idea to find out what the bugger has been up to 😉

Enjoy! ❤


No need to start the conversation with “I’m suicidal”.

You’re holding me hostage before we’ve even begun to speak.

Really makes me question your motives.

Makes me think of myself as little more than a dishrag handy for soaking up your spills.

I have to do everything perfect, and keep you satisfied, otherwise, anything that happens is now my fault and you are off the hook.

I’ll talk to you.

How about we

I mean, if you are talking to me, it’s already blatantly obvious that you are desperate.

Yep, it appears we are on the same page.

Somewhat at least.

^Linus and Lucy / Schroeder-Headz^

Recently, there was a video circulating of a guy committing suicide on a livestream, and yes, I watched it. Yes, it was depressing as fuck. Got me to thinking about my own self, my own life, and my desire to understand the mechanics of what is maybe sometimes happening when some choose to take that final leap of their own volition. Didn’t particularly want to watch the video, but kinda had a need to watch it.

In my own life, I’ve been surrounded by suicides of all kinds, the act has always confused me. Why are they doing this? How do I stop them? How can I help them? How can I not wind up in a similar situation? How am I supposed to react in situations like these? How am I supposed to feel about this?

The usual stuff

And of course, there’s the flip side. Those who go on living and their own conclusions about someone killing themselves. The person was a coward. The person was selfish. The person was crazy. They took the easy way out. The person was an asshole anyway, they did the rest of us a favor and we’re lucky to be rid of them. But some will even call those who commit suicide, brave. Courageous. One who took control of their own destiny.

Sounds to me like a lotta people have this shit all figured out.

^Polska Radio One – Волга (Volga)^

Thing is, if you are suicidal, and you don’t tell me you are suicidal, I’m now on the hook for not being more attentive. Not being more attuned to your needs.

“Did they show any signs of being suicidal or distressed in any way?”

The “after” is gonna bring those types of questions if you go through with it.

Le sigh

Where did I go so wrong in not better catering to your needs?

It’s too late tho now.

    Nothing I can do.

   This is depressing.

No way out.

I can see now maybe a bit now why there is an infectious nature to an act of suicide. An embedded “copycat” type of vibe. A looping type of element. Which…Hey! That reminds me. Have you ever wondered if the spinning nature of bodies has a property of capturing and smoothing out waves? Almost like running a piece of metal through a roller, except more like winding a something onto a spool.

Maybe both

Yes, I’m thinking here about waves and how the spinning nature of planets may act to facilitate the dampening of such waves. Alter their frequency, amplitude and/or maybe their wavelength. And in fact, maybe in some cases, not dampen the waves, but actually increase their power. Boost the signal. Maybe even capture a wave, alter it, then re-transmit the signal. Quite the interesting thought when one adds time and capacitors to these thoughts. A planet or maybe some other celestial body could potentially capture a signal, hold onto it for ages, then re-transmit the signal countless years later. Things get REALLY interesting when one stops to think about the nature of life and maybe why it exists when and where it does. A signal could, potentially, start life on a planet. Maybe such a signal could stop life on a planet.

‘Let there be light?’ (Genesis 1:3)

‘It is done?’ (Revelation 21:6)

Maybe that’s what these “vial” things are. Some kind of capacitor that holds a certain something that does a certain something at a certain time. A signal.

Holy fuck...I've gone off the deep end
^Starfucker // STRFKR – Golden Light^

How does one smooth the wave bourn of pain that creates more pain? Transfer? Transmission? Passing on? And is it “bourn of” or “born of”? Or “borne of”?

Bourn is like… a stream or a goal.

Born is like…hatched or deveiled or unveiled or whatever.

Borne is carried.

^Анна Ворфоломеева — Как мне тебя назвать^

Speaking of rolls…lets talk toilet paper and the peculiarities of hygiene.

  • 1st wipe – paper is absolutely covered in poo;
  • 2nd wipe – not a speck of poo on the paper, WTF?!?!??

That 2nd wipe makes so little sense, you gotta go for a 3rd wipe just to make sure because you don’t believe the 2nd wipe result. Things get even more weird if the 3rd wipe again has poop on the paper. Now you really start to question that 2nd wipe.

Did I miss?

Coulda swore that I felt the paper in the proper position.

What in the hell type of sorcery is this?!?!?

^The Soft Moon – Try^

We relive that Eden thing over and over.

It echos, and echos, and echos.


Everything is perfect.

We wander around in this magical and mysterious place of awe and wonder.

It all goes wrong.

We spend our life trying to get back to the start.

Get back what we had.

^Harlem River^

We still have it, we just don’t seem to want to utilize it. Maybe it’s that lingering idea of “better”. As long as there is something in the world that is “better” than what we currently have, no fucking way that where we are can be Eden.

Maybe it's that lingering idea of “worse”

As long as what we currently have is “worse” than what others currently have, no fucking way that where we are can be Eden. Oh, and fuck all those people who have it worse than us. Even tho our worse is better than some, some have it better than us and we are worse off for it.

For better…or for worse. In sickness…and in health. What in the FUCK, is health? We know what sickness is (or we think we do). = not sick?

That’s seems a pretty poor measure of health.

^Kindrid – Demise^

Took me a lot of time to come to grips with the need for destruction. Come to grips with why the blessing of life needs to come with a curse of death type rider. What’s that? You wanna know how in the fuck I, a backwards and braindead Okie hick, somehow stumbled onto an answer to one of life’s biggest mysteries?

Q: Why do we die?

A: Because there are things that you cannot think of

You do not have experience with everything. As a result, there are things that you simply cannot think of. Things you cannot imagine. However, when you can think of these things, can imagine these things, can and do experience these things, it might be too late to unthink them. Might be too late to unimagine them. Might be too late to not experience them. You may, need an alternate out.

^Артек Электроника — Шагая Сквозь Эпоху^

To relate a bit…

‘And in those days shall men seek death, and shall not find it; and shall desire to die, and death shall flee from them.’

-Revelation 6:9 (KJV)

Now, you may have given the concept of immortality a thought here and there, but its likely that you may also equate immortality with some kind of invincibility. You cannot die, therefore, you cannot be hurt. Welp, to relate what a mistake that prolly is, maybe give this thought a bit of contemplation…

Q: When someone you love dies, and you are left alive, are you suddenly immortal?

A: ???

You’re still alive. You’ve got a nasty-ass pain digging in you, and you cannot shake it.

Q: What is your salvation?

A: Death

One of the things that I’m thinking about here is that you have no way of knowing if you are immortal or not until you actually die. Another thing I’m thinking about is the horrible pains and strife that we some of us encounter in life, yet we do not die. Also thinking that we tend to equate immortality not only with invincibility, but we also equate immortality with youth. I’ve lost my train of thought.

Lemme regroup
^Маяк – Река^


Re group.

R e g r o u p .

R e g r o u p . p u o r g e R

. p u o r g e R

      .puorg eR


^MARY – Devouring Me^

Ya know, it just occurred to me that we usually watch news programs just to see one thing. There’s one thing that interests us, we can only get the information we need from one place, but they are gonna make us sit through a bunch of other shit before allowing us to see it.

Hrm. Why does this ring a bell? 

OH YEAH!!! School. You’re an individual, so you are likely to only have one main interest, but school is gonna subject you to all kinds of other bullshit before getting to the stuff you like. Work is like that too. Gotta work before you get that paycheck you want. Dinner is also like that. Unlikely that you like everything on your plate, and the plate also has to be clean before there’s any hope of dessert.

^увула – нам остается лишь ждать^

Just because my itinerary does not include you, that does not also imply that the road I’m on leads to nowhere.

^deadmau5 / Faxing Berlin (Piano Acoustic/Orchestral Version & Radio Edit)^

On a scale of 0-10, rate how evil each of the below lifeforms is.

0 being “how dare you even suggest someone would ever think of this creature as evil”, and 10 being “how dare you even suggest someone would ever think of this creature anything but evil”.

01. Vampire bats

02. Pomeranian dog

03. ET – The Extraterrestrial

04. Photosynthetic cyanobacteria

05. Magpies

06. Demons

07. Daemons

08. Grizzly Bears

09. Rats

10. Casper The Friendly Ghost

11. Poison Ivy

12. That person at work who refuses to wear antiperspirant/deodorant.

13. Crabs

14. Butterflies

15. Antlions

16. Fruitless Mulberry trees

I expect your answers on my desk no later than a date and time to be specified at a later date and time.

Be ready
^davEy – Breath of the Nightwind^

All that shit above was written on or about 11 September 2020AD/CE.

Yesterday was Monday the 12th of October 2020AD/CE.

Yes, that makes today Tuesday 13 October 2020AC/DC

I just woke. Started writing. Had a nagging feeling all day yesterday tho.

“Today seems like a holiday.”

Actually, I did not have the nagging feeling all day as much as I had a coupla points where I had “déjà vu” type moments of “today seems like a holiday, so why is it not a holiday?”

  • Is today a Monday? CHECK!
  • Are we in the holiday season? CHECK!

So why is everyone not ranting and raving about a holiday?

This morning, I remember my feelings from yesterday, and suddenly…there it is.

Yesterday, was Columbus Day

Ah yes, the latest parental figure to beat on…Christopher Columbus. It’s now known as “Indigenous Peoples’ Day” in some areas, but not everyone observes it. Divisions. Divisions within divisions.

^Trust – F.T.F.^
We interrupt this program for an important news flash...

Mystery = SOLVED! Next?

An actual “Mystery = SOLVED!” that has a shred of merit. Whodathunkit?


^Забавные игры – Берег (Remastered)^

This flight had me completely perplexed. I admit that “crop dusting” or some other agricultural use crossed my mind due to the remoteness of the location, but I never in all my years of flying and being in/around aviation have I heard of a Beechcraft King Air being used for crop dusting. I focused on either some kind of pipeline or electrical lines inspection, or maybe searching for a downed something, but…at night?

So I focused on maybe a pipeline leak or spill of some kind since the patterns were in some remote areas which likely are laced with creeks and could carry a release, but again…at night?

When I looked into the flight history of the aircraft and saw that this very aircraft had done very similar flights only recently, and since the person that I was speaking with had set their mind to contacting the FAA to find out what was going on, I admit that I settled back into a “wait and see” kind of posture since none of this made much sense. The plane obviously had some kind of special clearance to be flying so low, otherwise their very first flight at these altitudes would been their last. But, I found at least three other flights that were very similar, so yeah, wait and see. But mosquitoes? Spraying for mosquitoes with a King Air?!? At 200 fucking feet?

I fucking never would have thought of that even tho’ now, yeah, it makes sense that early evening is the perfect time to spray for mosquitoes and those flight patterns make much more sense now. Here where I live, they use spraying trucks for mosquito control, and the trucks drive up and down streets spraying the stuff into the air, but again it never would have occurred to me that someone is utilizing aircraft for the same purpose. I learned something. I learned a bunch actually.

^Pauk-Mumije ( 1982 Bosnia New Wave -Synth – Post Punk -Darkwave)^

The bad part in this?


People are obviously being sprayed, and yet, at least some of these people appear to have no prior knowledge that they are being dusted at 200 feet by an airplane spraying for mosquito control.

The last time that we here had active mass spraying was I think in either 2011 or 2012 with all that Zika panic. I seem to recall some panic that Zika and West Nile were going to cause some huge rash of illness and death, and so these giant trucks drove up and down the streets at night creating this massive weird mist cloud that hung heavy in the air. But the media had so hyped the disease prior to the spraying, that when the notices went out that spraying was gonna occur and for everyone to stay indoors during certain hours, I got the feeling that pretty much everyone got the message.

How do I know this? Welp, because I got a chair and went and sat up on my roof to observe the goings on. No cars, no people, no sound…it was completely dead outside an hour prior to the spraying, and remained dead until I heard the trucks start to rove up and down the streets. At a grumbling idle they came. I could see the mist cloud boiling up over the tops of the trees in the distance. When I saw the headlights appear on my street, I looked up and noticed that a strange halo was beginning to encircle the moon and encase the stars. I figured it was time to get down and go inside.

The good part in this?

There are still people in the world who are worried about mosquitoes and mosquito-borne diseases in the middle of this nCoV-2019 pandemic thingie.

^Don’t Leave – Gummy Boy^



  Mosque Key Toes.

          Musky Toes.

Muss Keet Ohs. Moss Kiitos.


    West Nile.


   Dengue Fever.


   Swine Flu.


Bubonic Plague.












Tiger King.


Q: Would you put your “pet” down if you knew that they were facilitating the transfer of nCoV-2019 to your family/friends/others?

A: ???

What am I saying? Of course you would! You collar them, leash them, chip them, tattoo them, train them to behave like you think they should, and punish them when they don’t. You’d drop that doggo, kitten, hamster, rat, snake or bearded dragon like a bad habit if you were to learn that they were to blame for the world’s woes. You with fish/fish tanks can keep them.

And for you lazy fuckers…

  • Keet = a type of bird from Guinea;
  • Kiitos = “thank you” in Finnish.
You're welcome
^Hey Moon^

What is this “tick” thing that appears by certain people’s names on Twitter? I guess it separates “the elite” from average scumbags.

Ticks are bad, mmmmmkay?
^Удары синтезаторов – Предчувствие космоса^

Last night was the first night in months that I’ve not had nightmares all night long. Pretty sure last night’s dreams weren’t good, but I also wouldn’t call them nightmares. Certainly not of the intensity of late. All these nightmares have been wearing my ass out. Don’t feel like reading, don’t feel like writing, don’t feel like watching anything, can’t think straight, have but one thought on my mind…what in the bloody hell is driving this non-stop onslaught of horrific dreams?

But to be fair, that thought really doesn’t pester me and I’ve really not sought any answers. Not done any soul-searching, not sought to understand it, not sought to stop it. Whatever it is, just trying to endure it. I figure if there are any answers to be had, they’ll come. This may be reckless of me.

 Maybe not
^Walter Wanderley – Os grilos^

Cade: Howdy!

X: ….

Cade: Hello?

Z: …

Cade: Helloooooo thar.

A: …

Cade: “A:” never speaks, so she’s not the best of indicators. Anyone there?

0: …

Cade: Anyone at all?

T: They’re ignoring you.

Cade: O HAI! So, why aren’t you ignoring me?

T: I am ignoring you.

Cade: Um, no you aren’t.

T: Yes I am. I just wanted to let you know that we are ignoring you.

Cade: Is this because I’ve been ignoring you?

T: …

Cade: I’ll take that for a no.

Z: That’s a definite yes.

Cade: Pray tell how you’d know?

Z: I checked.

Cade: Checked? Checked what? You keeping a journal or something?

Z: Maybe.

Cade: Soooo…that would mean that you may have some indication as to why I’ve been having non-stop nightmares since Spring of this year?

Z: I show it’s more like July.

Cade: HA! I already knew that. So you do actually have something there which may be indicative of why I’ve been having nightmares.

Z: …

Cade: Fuckin’ hell. I’ve painted myself into a corner. Any newbies out there wanna take this opportunity to chime in?

V: …

Cade: Well that’s one at least. Any infrequent visitors up for a chat?

G: …

Cade: Hrm. I’m quite shocked that at least “0:” doesn’t have an earful to give me.

X: Oh they’ve got an earful to give you.

Cade: GREAT! Let’s have it then.

0: …

Cade: That indeed, is quite the earful. Says a lot.

0: See ya around kiddo.

Cade: Hrm. I’ll add that to my list of things to chew on.

0: …

B: What’s all this recent business about ghosts?

Cade: Well, I’ve just been doing a lot of pondering about the notion recently.

B: You did a whole series of posts on pareidolia prior to Google/Blogger blocking you.

Cade: Correct. Six posts in total, but I only shared 5 with the class. The basic notion was of a sighted person “seeing things” as being odd concept to ponder.

X: You mean to say that, when a sighted someone sees a something, and another sighted someone disputes what has been seen because they themselves either did not see it or do not see it, that paradigm is causing you personally some measure of dismay?

Cade: Yes. I was not there/did not see “Mr. October” bang those three home runs off of those three pitchers back in 1977, but it happened.

B: Others have seen it. It was filmed.

Cade: Technically, no one, with maybe the exception of Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin, actually saw Neil Armstrong walk on the moon.

B: And your point?

Cade: Welp, I can understand the need to use one’s own experiences with things to help others with theirs.

X: But what you have a problem with, is that concept taken to excess.

Cade: Yes. If I were unsighted, it would not be a problem.

Z: But because both you and those around you are sighted, it’s a problem.

Cade: Exactly.

T: Ever stop to think that maybe you shouldn’t share so much?

Cade: Indeed I have.

Z: Shows here that you pretty much completely shut down for most of your life.

Cade: I’d concur with that.

X: So what’s the problem? Keep things to yourself, problem(s) solved.

Cade: I um…I do kinda live in a vacuum, but I also kinda don’t.

0: You’re referring to “the vacuum of space”?

Cade: Indeed.

T: I think you are thinking about the concept of “Familiars”.

Cade: You aren’t wrong. Half in, half out. Not here, not there, and kinda not anywhere…

0: And yet, there you are.

X: The slightly crooked king.

Cade: Yes. That concept too has been on my mind.

Z: But everything is…fuzzy, is that it?

Cade: Very. Like certain parts of the past no longer exist.

A: I bet that recent Astrology talk about changing the past in order to make for a better future hit you particularly hard.

Cade: Indeed it did. Any such changes would not only affect me…

0: But others.

Cade: Yes indeedy. It’s that whole stupid time-machine thing about going back in time to kill someone.

X: Rumor has it that would save a lot of pain and suffering.

Cade: Um…hasn’t all that pain and suffering already occurred?

T: I think that’s a fair assessment.

Cade: So now we’re back to rending and tears.

X: Has that too been heavy on your mind?

Cade: Yes.

X: A cloth?

Cade: Yes. But also what it means.

X: You never understood it before?

Cade: Well, the symbolism was that it was torn from top to bottom. Hence, that is interpreted as “God did it”.

X: That was some thick material.

Cade: Some stress that fact, some do not. I think some even dispute it because if the Tabernacle cloth was indeed that thick, it woulda weighed like 800 tons and there was no fucking way they could have carried that thing around whilst wandering in the desert.

X: Details, details, details.

Cade: So yeah, now we’re right back to some people see a something, others do not, which raises doubt.

0: People do sometimes take liberties with telling tales.

Cade: But we here in the now generally are not taught that history is a subjective something which is likely to be more tall-tale than fact. History is taught as being rigid, not fluid.

Z: Revisionism.

Cade: I really, REALLY fucking need to stop writing here and go get to work on…

A: You…might…want to bite your tongue right there.

Cade: Indeed. I’m in a quandary.

A: Do you edit, or do you not edit.

Cade: That’s the truth of it.

A: And what is this truth you speak of.

Cade: Typically, I’ve not a clue what truth is. But in this case, I feel that I was about to overstep some bounds.

A: And you are stuck here and now with a dilemma.

Cade: Yes. What is not mine, is not mine.

A: You gonna “mine” that concept any further?

Cade: Yes.

A: Careful.

Cade: Noted.

A: …

Don’t ask me…I don’t know. Kinda working on it tho’. And don’t ask what that means either because I don’t know.

How many people know you exist?

Yeah…I thought so…not many.

Don’t sweat it tho…nobody knows I exist either.

^Cannonball Adderley – Groovy Samba^



Have a Song, Dear Reader 😀

CLICK5: Indie Go…

CLICK5: Mask-querade

Story Time: Fountainhead

Dear Reader, prompted by a convo in Merovee comments about rabbits and bad hair days, I’ve decided to post my story from Underdog Anthology IX: Well Haunted

*Thanks, Clicky… /pats snout… I’ll format the story and you go get a Song for the end…*

… called ‘Fountainhead’. I was saving it to post for Halloween, but I’ll post ‘What Time Do You Finish?’ from Underdog Anthology XII then instead 😀

Enjoy! ❤



by Roo B. Doo

“Okay, Thom?” Jess placed on her hands on Thom’s shoulders, and gave them a friendly squeeze. “You still want to do this?” she asked him, addressing the brightly lit mirror before them.

Thom studied the reflection of the woman standing behind him. With silver hair, thickly plaited, and intricate henna designs adorning both her arms from wrists to biceps, Jess was an odd mixture of old and young. He nodded slowly before leaning his head back, to look up directly into her wrinkled face and sparkling eyes. “Yes. Let’s do it.”

“Alright then,” Jess said with a smile. She pushed Thom’s head forward playfully, and looked down at the shaved skin she’d created near the crown of his head. She tenderly caressed it’s smoothness with her gloved fingertips before swooping down to lightly kiss it.

“Hey, is that part of the ritual?” Thom asked. “Doesn’t seem very hygienic.”

“Yes and no, it’s not.” Jess took the bottle of Povidone-Iodine from the trolley beside her and quickly swabbed the pale patch on Thom’s head, turning it umber. “But this stuff tastes disgusting.”

Thom’s reflection stared hard at her from the mirror.

“Seriously, Thom. Dis. Gus. Sting.” Jess laughed jovially. “Trust me, I’ve kissed all the ones I’ve done before,” she said with a shrug. “They all turned out okay. Please, grant me a little superstition. It is Halloween.”

“Okay, Jess. I trust you,” Thom replied. He watched her pick up a scalpel, but his eyes lingered on the electric drill that lay passively on top of the trolley.

“Thank you.” Jess placed the scalpel blade against the orange patch of skin beneath her gaze. “Now, this may hurt.”

Thom’s hands tightened their grip on the armrests of his chair, hidden beneath the heavy, flowing cape that Jess had made him wear. “No problem.”


Thom Lusher’s headache had been with him for as long as he could remember. It had taken up residence in his skull during childhood, whilst Thom watched his mother die of cancer, and squatted on throughout adolescence, as Thom’s father attempted to drown himself in vodka. The nagging, low throb was a constant in an otherwise unreliable world. It was something Thom could rely on, even consider a friend.

The headache had once come to his rescue, when Thom’s PE teacher had attempted to get handsy down his gym shorts. It had immediately flared into a raging, sparking tempest, forcing the contents of Thom’s stomach out of his mouth and down the front of his fumbling teacher, revealing the damp outline of a sad erection. Yes, the headache hurt Thom, but not nearly as much as the world did.

The only time the headache disappeared completely was when Thom dreamed ‘the floating dream’. He’d be in the thick of a situation, when, suddenly, his feet would leave the ground and he would start to rise. As he looked down, observing the action below, Thom would be acutely aware that he was steadily floating higher, and that his headache was gone. Levitating upward in a world made of sky, Thom felt serene and pain-free. Until he bumped up against the hard, dark arc of space above, at which point Thom would wake to reality and a fierce ache in his head.

The headache was part of Thom’s life and he’d steeled himself to the fact that it always would be. Until he met Jess, that is. She was the hippy, dippy proprietress of ‘Curl Up And Dye’, a hair salon on the edge of town. They’d got talking at a shared smoking table, outside Starbucks on the High Street. Little did Thom know then how Jess would change his life forever.


“Go anywhere nice on holiday this year?” Jess asked, as she started to peel back the flaps of skin she’d incised with the scalpel, to expose Thom’s skull.

“What?” Thom asked incredulously.

Jess was concentrating hard on the wound she’d inflicted, but stole a glance at Thom’s reflection. “I’m sorry. Force of habit,” she replied sheepishly. “Day job.”

Thom smiled ruefully at her via the mirror and resisted the temptation to shake his head. “Not this year. You?”

Jess had resumed scraping back the skin. “I like to spend November in Thailand. I leave tomorrow. You’re lucky we met and I could fit you in.”

Thom didn’t know if he should feel lucky or whether he’d gone completely mad. He’d only met Jess by chance earlier that day and now here he was, sitting alone in her dark and empty hair salon, completely at her mercy. The yammering pain in his head reminded him that he’d not exactly been blessed with luck in his life so far, but Jess had given him hope that somehow this could change.

“Have you done many of these?” Thom asked, to cover the sounds of faint scratching that filled the silence.

“More and more this year since Bore-Heading became a thing again. Of course I did mine back in the Seventies.”

“You did it on yourself?”

“Yes, for the purpose of enlightenment, not to follow some silly rock star like the kids do today.”

Thom frowned; that wasn’t why he was there but considered it ill advised to argue given his present situation. “And were you enlightened?”

“Yes. I discovered trepanning others is entirely more lucrative than trepanning myself. Thank goodness for silly rock stars, eh?” Jess flashed Thom a wink in the mirror. “Okay, Thom, I’m down to the bone. Ready for me to open you up?”

Thom stared into the violet eyes of his reflection and took a deep breath. “Go for it.”

Jess returned a solemn nod before turning to pick up the drill.


“Do you mind if I sit here?” the old woman asked Thom, as she placed a steaming cup of coffee on the table in front of him.

“No, go ahead.” Tom smiled up at the woman before going back to his book. He rubbed his brow and took a drag on the cigarette sat idling in the ashtray on the table.

“Ta,” she said sitting down and placing her shopping by her feet. She pulled her coat tighter and took a sip of her coffee. “Brr, it’s cold today.”

Thom nodded his agreement but he wasn’t in the mood for chitchat; he wanted to finish the chapter he was reading.

“Perfect for Halloween, of course.” The woman continued talking undeterred. She looked up and scanned the sky. “Cold and clear of cloud. Perfect for piercing the veil.”

“I’m sorry, what is?” Thom asked. He wasn’t paying attention but didn’t want to appear rude.

“The veil between worlds, here and beyond,” the woman said. “It’s thinnest at Halloween. We have perfect conditions today for piercing the barrier.”

At her words, Thom immediately pictured himself sailing upward through an ocean of sky before hitting impenetrable nothingness. The dull throb of his constant headache suddenly spiked, causing him to wince.

“Are you okay? You’ve gone quite pale,” the woman asked with concern.

“Yes,” Thom answered abruptly. He squeezed his eyes shut and saw his fists impotently beating against smooth blackness of space; a fragment of his dream from the night before. “Sorry, yes I’m fine. I have a headache.”

“Wait here.” The woman ordered, before rushing off inside the coffee shop. “And watch my bags.”

Thom felt confused; he wanted to leave, but felt obliged to stay until she returned. His headache had started to settle down but his curiosity was piqued. How could this woman, a stranger, have described his floating dream, when he’d never told anybody else about it before?

“Here we are.” The woman returned, placing a mug of hot water in front of him.

“Er, thanks,” Thom replied sceptically, as he watched her rummage through one of her many shopping bags.

“It’s for this,” she said, brandishing a teabag and a wide smile. She dropped it into the steaming mug. “Ginger tea. It’s the most wonderful tension reliever. I always drink it if I have a headache. Please try it. My name is Jess, by the way.”

Thom dunked the teabag, turning the clear liquid amber. “Thom Lusher.” He took a tentative sip of the hot tea. “Thank you.”

Jess sat back and observed Thom contemplatively. “If you don’t mind me saying, Thom, you have the look of someone who knows suffering. Have you had the headache a long time?”

Thom froze mid sip. He felt the hot liquid burn his top lip but his headache had ebbed away. He stared at Jess’s frank and open face, encouraging him to unburden. He put down the tea and lit a fresh cigarette. “All my life,” he said thickly.

Jess sniffed the cold air before glancing skyward. “Well, Thom. I think I can help you.”


Rizzz Rizzz

“No, wait!” Thom sprang from the salon chair and turned toward Jess. He backed into the mirror unit, scattering pots of hair product to the floor. “I’m sorry, Jess. Can we just wait a moment?”

Jess placed the silent drill back on the trolley and rushed round to comfort him. “Of course. Oh my goodness, Thom, you’re trembling. Just sit down a moment and I’ll tidy up this mess.”

“I’ll help-” Thom started to bend down but Jess stopped him.

“No, you’ll get blood everywhere. Sit there, I’ll sort this out.” Jess handed him a towel. “And wipe your face, you have blood trickling from your hairline.

Thom perched on the edge of the salon chair, holding the towel to his forehead, while Jess got onto her knees and started gathering the strewn pots.

“I’m sorry but it was when you gunned the drill twice,” Thom explained. “I don’t know, it just set me off.”

“And I’m sorry, too. You’re obviously not ready for this procedure. Oh no, this one’s broken open.”

Jess got to her feet and wiped her hands on spare towel. “I’ll have to get a mop.”


“No, Thom, it’s okay.” Jess grabbed Thom’s right arm and shoulder, pushing him back into the chair. “I’ll mop first and bandage you up, then tidy up your hair. Nobody will notice the bald spot. Promise.”

Thom let out a noisy sigh of relief. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

“I shouldn’t worry about it,” Jess called back over her shoulder as she made her way the the back room of the salon. “We all shock ourselves from time to time. I’ll make you drink.”

“Ginger tea?”

Jess stopped. “No, I’ve got something special for shock. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

Thom stared at himself in the mirror whilst Jess was gone. He picked up a hand mirror from the trolley and held it at and angle over his head so that he could see the damage. All he could see was a pool of blood that lapped across the shaven skin, soaking into his hair. Thom grimaced at the sight of maroon and black wound with crimson tinges. “Fuck!”

“Here we are.” Jess returned and handed Thom a dark green, steaming brew. She took the hand mirror from him and replaced it on the trolley. “Drink up. This is my own recipe, tell me what you think.”

She left again to collect the mop, leaving Thom to gingerly sipped at the hot concoction. “Hey, this is delicious, Jess” he shouted out. He took a slurp. “What’s in it?”

“Oh a little of this, a little of that.” Jess returned with a mop and bucket and set about cleaning up gloop and splashes of blood from the floor. “Mostly sugar. Sugar’s good for shock.”

Thom drained the cup. “Well, I thought-”

Jess quickly placed her fingertips over Thom’s mouth.”No, sit back and be quiet, Thom. Let the tea work,” she said firmly.

Thom sat back in the chair and watched Jess clean up. She moved the mop from side to side and returned the pots of creams back to the mirror shelf, all in rhythmical, moving silence.

Thom looked at the bloody towel in his hands and thought about his crazy day, and how it wouldn’t be over for a while yet. He felt the tension drain from his body and his eyelids droop. I must tell Jess that her tea is better than the ginger stuff, was the last thing Thom thought before he nodded off to sleep.


“Help me, how?”

Thom took a drag from his cigarette and looked over at Jess. She took a gulp of her coffee and stared back at him. “Help me, how?” Thom asked again.

“Thom, there are many ancient rituals and practices that have been mostly forgotten by the modern world. I happen to be a practitioner in a number of them.”

“Like what? Voodoo shit?”

Jess chuckled. “Not exactly, no. What I’m thinking of for you was stolen by the medical profession and renamed something ugly to put people off.”

Thom was perplexed. The conversation he didn’t want to have, then enticed into having was taking a turn for the bizarre. “What are you talking about?”

“Trepanation, Thom. It has been practised for thousands of years. Until quite recently that is. Now it’s called a Craniotomy and only doctors are allowed to perform it.”

“Wait.” Thom could suddenly feel his seat leave his chair and his knees bumped under the cafe table, hard enough to knock the ashtray to the floor with a clatter. He grabbed on to the edge of the table. “You want to drill a hole in my head?!”

Jess plucked up her coffee cup from the table before it flipped over. “Oh, but I’m trepanning you right now,” she said to the departing Thom, who was floating higher and higher, feet first. She pointed an index finger toward him and retracted it twice, like pulling a trigger. “Rizzz Rizzz. No more headache.”

“No, wait!” Thom screamed as at first a laughing Jess, followed by the High Street, the town and then all the land below shrunk from his sight. He zoomed up through the cold, blue, cloudless sky. Thom knew exactly where he was heading but this time he did not know what he would find.


Suck Glug Slurp

“Oh shit, he’s a gusher!”

A fountain of blood erupted from the hole Jess had made in Thom’s head and splattered over her face, neck and chest. She hastily grabbed the wadding from the trolley, in order to stem the blood spouting from the top of Thom’s lolling head. Blood streamed from between her fingers, across her hand and flowed down along the henna tattoos on her forearm. It dripped from Jess’s elbow and pooled at her feet.

She placed an arm across Thom’s chest and pulled him upright, all whilst holding his head steady, maintaining pressure on the gaping wound. Jess stayed like that, chanting quietly until she was certain the bleeding had slowed enough for her to remove the sodden wadding and she could take a look. Deep at the centre of the circle of blood and matted hair, Jess could see the pulse of pinkish brain.

She covered the wound with a bandage and removed his bloody cape, before setting about cleaning up. Once Jess was sure the floor was clear of blood, she placed black candles around unconscious Thom’s chair and lit them. Finally she hung a mournful looking goat skull, from the top of the brightly lit mirror, so that it replaced Thom’s head in his reflection.

As she finished, Thom opened a fiery eye. “Daughter?”

“I knew it! I knew he was the one!” Jess howled with glee, before dropping to her knees to kiss Thom’s hand. Tears streamed from her twinkling, eyes. “Oh, Satan, my Lord and Master. You have come at last!”

Thom gently lifted Jess’s blood-flecked face toward him and smiled radiantly down upon her.


Have a Song, Dear Reader…

A Little Writing Update…

Apols! I’ve been away from the LoL, Dear Reader, busy writing a short story for Underdog Anthology XII. Fortunately Clicky has been holding the fort, hopefully keeping you suitable entertained with his CLICK5 posts…

*I know you are, Clicky… /scrolls through list… Wow, and so many of them…*

I can confirm that my short story, ‘What Time Do You Finish?’ has been completed, submitted, accepted and edited…

*Yep, Death from ‘Waste Not, Want Not’ features in it, Clicky… /lights up… and this time ‘e brings ‘is mates…*

… And there is still time for me to write another one…

*That reminds me… /drags… I’ve still gotta mutilate Percy Bysshe Shelley for the Afterword… /smokes contentedly… ‘Aussie Madness’ seems more than fitting…*

*There will indeed by a full, blue moon on ‘alloween, Clicky… /winks…*

If I can get my arse into gear…

*You think I should write an ‘arry story, Clicky? …/flicks ash… About wot?*

*Interesting… /nods… That could work…*

Of course once the submission deadline for UAXII has passed, Dear Reader, I’ll be back with more shamble posts and hopefully some missives from Text US buddie, the Okie Devil himself, Cade Fon Apollyon. If you’ve been wondering what he’s been up to, Cade has a fantastic series of posts at his gaff exploring pareidolia…

*Heh. Workout shapes …/stubs butt…*

… Well worth a look-see. Until then, I will leave you in the capable fins of Library Assistant, Clicky…

… Have a Song ❤

Adventures In Remote Viewing: Blue Sky Thinking…


*Good thinking, Clicky… /lights up and smokes… I mean, it’s not necessary for Dear Reader to visit your post from yesterday, butt it is related to this one…*

On Tuesday evening, Dear Reader, my good buddy Cade Fon Apollyon and I indulged in a spot of remote viewing, but not at first…

cade and roob blue sky thinking 1

… While he took advantage of the lush Texan weather, I scrolled about in the Yellow smoking universe of Twitter. Suddenly I spotted a fresh deposit had been left by another good friend of mine, TNT, in the Red universe of Merovee…

Shiny Doctor TNT posts a vid on Merovee

*/flicks ash… I see Shiny has removed his mask now, Clicky…*

Intrigued, I watch the video he posted and immediately decided to visit the YTuba’s channel. There were only 8 videos in total uploaded: 2 on demonic emojis and 6 on a strange hacking incident that occurred in Chicago, way back in 1987. I had an idea…

cade and roob blue sky thinking 2

… I persuaded Cade to tear himself away from his cloud watching and remote view the videos with me. Synchronously, and this post is about that. Ready, Dear Reader?






Maybe you can feel me here, and maybe not. But when I think of Chicago, several things come to mind. Cuba, Canada, Belgium, Wax Trax, O’Hare, Midway, AA Flight 191, fireworks, Sears Tower, snow, Aurora, public-access television. Lots of other shit too, but we’re talking about looping through 1987 here in this instance, which was 33 years ago, and that means primarily Wax Trax. Lets put some feelers out…


Barbel (Anatomy)

Wax Trax! Records

After watching these vids with Roob, I’m not exactly sure what it is that I am supposed to be doing, other than perhaps solving a mystery. Or maybe giving some of my thoughts surrounding the events of 22 November 1987…24 years after President Kennedy’s assassination in Dallas.

My immediate problem is, watching a set of videos that give their own spin(s) to the event(s). I have no real interest in the Max Headroom pirate signal/hijacking thing, but these videos that I watched are telling me that I should. Not only that, these videos are giving specific reasons as to why I should, namely some Illuminati something or another and all of the symbolism that goes along with it.

With that in mind, I’ve already given you a bunch of my own contributions that likely have no meaning to you unless you loop them through my own perspective(s) via Wax Trax! Records. Namely, Cuba, Canada and Belgium with some nods to Flight 191 and Aurora. And with that, I’ll take a breather and let Roob take the controls for a while.

^GREATER THAN ONE – I Don’t Need God [Official Video] HQ^

Thank you for the 33, 22, 11 introduction, Cade 😉

Although I was already aware of Chicago network hacking incident in 1987, I was rather taken by the enigmatic Professor Bulwer Symthe character. The words he used, some repeatedly, like ‘Israel’, ‘alien broadcast’ and ‘sophisticated’…

“Who or what?”

*/smokes contentedly… I know what you’re thinking, Clicky…*

*No, tho’ blimey yeah… /deep drag… No, I noticed the Doctor glance at the photo of his granddaughter, Susan, on his desk… /plumes smoke… And the very first episode of Doctor Who, featuring Susan, was broadcast the day after President Kennedy was assassinated. The show very nearly got cancelled ‘cos nobody saw it…* 

“Oh I just made the greatest masterpiece for all the greatest world newspaper nerds!”

As soon as I heard that, my mind went to the smoking Red universe of Merovee and a question frequently explored there by the greatest whirled news mind lines nerds: What Is Real?

Over to Cade…


JMO, Roob, but “what is real” is quite simple most of the time. You know it. The depth of a particular reality may take time to plumb, may take time to understand or come to grips with it, but yeah…you know it.

The thing most people seem to have difficulty with is explaining a particular reality to someone else. Especially if you and/or the person you are wanting to relate to are in a big fucking hurry. Not to suggest that “real” is always some inherently complex something, but at the same time…yeah…both real and unreal things seem to be pretty fucking complex. Wait, I’m supposed to be talking about signals, signal hijackings and signal hijackings being hijacked.

Our commitments to racial equity

Now, not that I know anything about anything, but a quick read of that makes certain words seem redundantly redundant:

  • 1754 words;
  • “black” is used 46 times;
  • “google” is used 40 times.

Keyword Density

Let us see what the professionals have to say about “keyword density” in this particular writing.


If I post the link to the Google CEO blogpost into SmallSEOTools’ keyword density checker, it tells me that my reading of the article may have been correct in detecting certain things being packed into this writing:

  • “black” has a frequency of 43 and a density of 7.76%;
  • “google” has a frequency of 33 and a density of 5.96%;
  • “work” has a frequency of 25 and a density of 4.51%;
  • “product” has a frequency of 18 and a density of 3.25%;
  • “googler” has a frequency of 16 and a density of 2.89%.

What does all that mean? Welp, if you want “real”, you may or may not find it in the Google CEO blogpost. Kinda depends on what you are looking for and maybe why. What you are going to do with the information? Some people may be trying to hijack things for their own purposes, maybe not. Most things are typically quite obvious with the benefit of hindsight, and if ever there was a year to focus on hindsight and what it is, 2020 is likely the year to do that. Me? I love my vision, but prolly a good idea to be aware of your other senses too. And speaking of being aware, I need to toss this back over to Roob.

Smell ya later.

^a split second “arsenic on the rocks”^

I saw the Knights Templar cross make a brief appearance in the video, and something similar appeared in a field in Wiltshire, yesterday, but seen today in the smoking Red universe of Merovee…

Clicky posts PA horns on Merovee

*Yes, I know you agree with Cade, Clicky… /stubs butt… Broadcasting is certainly a sync…*

In fact, there is so much to unpack in that second installment, from a puppet lecturing on invisible puppet masters…

… And the whole fly swatting thing…

*Yes, I saw what you did with your Song choice, Clicky. Tho’ I think you’ll find that’s a Monster spatula… /smirks… Still plenty of horns…*

… That syncs with a particular post here at the LoL. Not so much for fly swatting as ‘submit for spanking’, the name of a gif in the post that attracts a disproportionate number of  visitors from the Middle Easter. I can only wonder at how disappointed those Dear Readers are when they land that post, whilst busily swatting at their flies…

submit for spanking

*That’s the one, Clicky… /scrolls through post… Oh look, Canada is in it and Keith Palmer…*

*Does the pattern on the railing look kinda Templar cross shaped to you Clicky? …/rubs eyes… And is it me, or is that memorial Tardis shaped?*

*OMG! …/covers open mouth with hand… I just remembered the Afterword poem I mutilated for Underdog Anthology II…*

I need a drink. Your turn, Cade…


Wax trax just took on a whole other meaning. A two-pronged attack on the furry fuzz bivouacked in the crux of the back crack . Yeesh. Must be true love to go through all that. Digress.

And “neutrons leaving the nucleus of an atom” really was my first thought when I saw that crop circle. Also thought about ion-channels. No idea what any of that may mean tho’, other than the obvious “people with too much time on their hands” types of associations. Digress further.

A lot of this stuff in the videos we’ve already talked about in private so I’m trying to address anything that maybe we didn’t talk about (which ain’t much), but seeing as how “insidious” is suddenly on the menu…

Here’s Why Radio Stations Always Start With a ‘K’ or ‘W’

When they mentioned in the Max Headroom video that “WGN” means “World’s Greatest Newspaper”, and also that “WTTW” means “Windows To The World”, that’s kindof a misnomer. The “W” really doesn’t mean anything other than it denotes a US broadcast station. The licensee can brand it, but it really doesn’t mean anything outside of it’s original intent, nor should it because 1) it causes confusion, and 2) they are a licensee, not the owner. The owner is the US Government (vis-a-vis…the citizenry). Why is this important? Hijacking. We’re talking hijacking here, and there are some subtleties underlying these romanticisms about institutions that seem to point back to the notion(s) of “too big to fail”. Did I lose you?

Heartstrings may sometimes allow for fudging, flexibility and forgiveness where none should actually be given. Exceptions made, precedents set, new paradigms formed, and applicability only for a select few. Could be creating a managerial and logistical nightmare for regulatory agencies down the road. Someone wanted a monopoly on the letter “W” and its meaning, and someone gave it to them, perhaps without realizing what it was they were doing. Now it comes down to whether or not to honor the “mistake”.

BTW, I went and watched the “raw” videos just to maybe get a more-clear picture of what it is I’m supposed to be seeing. The flyswatter is epically cringeworthy. For me it is anyway. Butt…that’s water under the bridge.

^The Revolting Cocks – Union Carbide^

Lots of seemingly insidious shit floating around. But really, is that anything new?

Maybe there’s more to “woke” than just and only pointing out what’s broke.

Maybe there’s more to “the spiritual path” than just and only clever math.

Maybe there’s more to “ascension” that just and only pretension.

Maybe there’s more to “spiritual awakening” than just and only finding a word that rhymes with awakening.


^TOPPOP: Brian Eno – Seven Deadly Finns^

Thanks Cade, I had wondered about the origins of W or K prefixing of US radio station names. So, it goes: commercial, military, military, commercial?
Wank for peace

*Ooh that nipple ring, is similar in shape to the crop circle, Clicky… /lights up… Prince Albert, Public Address… /drags… Personal Assistant… /plumes cloud of smoke… You know, the first story I ever wrote as an adult was for the first Underdog Anthology. Its aboot a PA, on her knees, receiving demonic cumming…*

*True! And social distancing is integral to the plot of the story…*

Cade shows Roob the compass

*Yes! Cade did spot a masonic compass next to the Tardis shaped Palmer memorial and pissing man, just in front of the Templar cross railings… /drags…*

fuzzy pom pom mirror

*In a mirror, left is right and right is left… /streams smoke… I’m still fuzzy as to what’s so bad about being illuminated, Clicky…*

Especially when a pyramid is used to close all the Professor Bulwer Smythe’s vids…*

I’ve not seen the Max Headroom movie and I didn’t watch the TV show back in the day. But for me, ‘max headroom’ reeks of memory storage and increased consciousness, à la David Lynch’s explanation…

*LoL… /smokes…*

I’m spent. Cade’s turn…


I’m not Clicky (as far as I know) so I’m not attempting to answer Clicky’s question, but your comment about illumination and what’s wrong with it? ‘Tis an interesting thought. Especially in this vein of “AI” thinking we’re doing.

Illumination isn’t just and only “knowing”, but knowing sure is painful sometimes. Knowing can even be specifically designed to be painful. You were not aware that your father was shooting heroin, you were not aware your wife was banging several of your co-workers, you were not aware your kids was failing in school, you were not aware that strange spot on your left cheek was Merkel cell carcinoma…someone illuminates you to these facts….BOOM! Pain.

What we do with this information from there? More pain could be on the way. Prolly important that we also address “what’s right with illumination”, but even that is going to have a lot of negatives associated with it. Signs? Symbols? Wonders? Magical and mysterious things? Loads of these things are going to be associated with “the devil” and chalked up as evil right out of the gate. These could be pivotal moments in time for us with respect to the current established order of our lives.

Pump Up The Volume (Film)

What I’m mainly thinking about here is how AI obtains and processes information. And especially the information we feed it + what we may tell an AI to do with that information. How we as the masters “control”, and what kind(s) of pain our decision-making may bring this and these AI(s). “We” are the creators, which means “we” are the masters, which means “we” call the shots irrespective of the feelings of those we control. Kindof a weird bunch of thoughts to be having on the 155th anniversary of Juneteenth.

HEY! And whilst we are on the topic of signals, sending signals, and also intercepting/hijacking/pirating signals, did you know that Rush released a new video this week for their song The Spirit Of Radio? Pirate Radio features in the video, lots of radio personalities and/or DJs also feature in the video, which also means lots of detached and faceless voices blasting their way into your life and your lives. What do detached voices have to do with AI, slavery, mysticism, illumination and all kinds of similarly and dissimilarly related things? I dunno…you’re the smart one…you figure it out.

^Finitribe – Monster In The House (1990)^

When I first bumbled into this current “awakening” incarnation back in 2007/2008, one of the big ideas was that we humans were a slave race created by the Illimanunakinaughty.

Actually, the Anunnaki are the alien race that supposedly created us, but the Anunnaki seem to also be related to and/or associated the Illuminati, so I personally concatenated the two, then added my own flair since both parties are typically chalked up as evil. The concept of us being a slave race really isn’t that much of a stretch, and seems to have come into the public consciousness around the time of the film Stargate. Stargate relies heavily upon Ancient Egypt as a plot device, and speaking of films utilizing antiquity as plot devices, a somewhat related tweet awaited me when I woke this morning…

In the film Alien, Ian Holm played Ash, an android, and likely the creepiest AI since HAL 9000 from 2001: A Space Oddessey. But it occurs to me that both Ash and HAL share a common trait in that they were both instructed by “the company” to lie and/or kill, with no clearly defined parameters as to exactly how. Only the mission is important, and once the rules go out the fucking window due to fear of failure, everything goes to shit…nothing goes to plan…lots of people die…lots of residual pain(s)…all because of, illumination.

Anyway, Ian Holm is a great actor, I personally remember him most as Napoleon Bonaparte from Time Bandits, Ash from Alien, Professor Fitz from The Aviator, and the priest Vito Cornelius from The Fifth Element. Vito Cornelius…a priest from an ancient secret order warning of The Great Evil’s return, in a time where a “black” President is in office, and the whole thing centers around a temple in Egypt. And you know what just occurred to me? I don’t think “social distancing” is represented anywhere in the film The Fifth Element. Quite the opposite actually. I think at one point, the President mentions there are 200 billion citizens on Earth.

Ian Holm was also in Brazil tho’. Seems like there was quite a bit of “social distancing” in the film Brazil. There was all kinds of distancing in the film Brazil.

“Come together, and experience safely, from your own designated area.”

We appear to be figuring out “how to do it”, without actually doing much of anything.

Roob…I toss it back over to you and Clicky, and I leave the reader with a video that will maybe provide some insight into the post-modern idealism of the 1980’s, and maybe also how that relates to today and/or today’s world.

And, I’d also like to give a shoutout to my Uncle Richard, Aunt Charlotte, and Big John. I think about ya’ll a lot, you’re never far from my mind, and always in my heart.


sock puppet

*Yeah, the Rush video is cool. Reminds of A-Ha…*

I have to say I am less convinced by the argument made for the first pillar of the Professor’s theory. Shady ethics and corporate marketing? Seriously?

* /rolls eyes… The Professor needs to watch that, Clicky, for the bigger picture of  shady practices used by government, business and scientific entities in order to sell the public on an idea… /final drag… Buy their product…*

“Drink Coca-Cola”

Coca-Cola saw sales rise 57.7% following James Vickery’s subliminal messaging, where as popcorn sales rose only 18.1%…

“Hungry? Buy Popcorn”

Subliminal message buy or try popcorn

*He definitely says ‘buy’… /stubs butt… Hmm…*

Maybe the difference can be accounted for by the simplicity of the first message, whereas the second message is far more complex, being as it is preceded by a question: ‘Hungry?’…

*I saw a ‘DO NOT QUESTION AUTHORITY’ subliminal message in there, Clicky, but nary a question mark in sight…*

There are a ton of answers for a question such as ‘Hungry?’ Asking a question of a viewer through subliminal messaging is not the same as giving them a simple command to act upon. Asking a question prompts thinking and not, mindless action. I’m not saying there isn’t anything to subliminal messaging, just that this particular tranche of the Professor’s argument is weak. I mean, what movie were the subject audience watching?

As for hypnosis? There’s a reason why people respond to hypnosis…

And with that, I’ll now pass you back to Cade.


Roob, you’re right on track with some of the things that I too thought about with respect to a lot of the ground we are covering, a lot of the ground Professor Blue-Hand covered, and especially the bits regarding subliminal anything.


Pigeonhole Principle

Pigeonhole Sort






Our bodies seem to disapprove of intruders of all kinds. If a something exists within a certain more or less known framework (our bodies), and that framework cannot figure out what that something is doing there, the framework is likely to start asking questions. Begin an interrogative process to figure out what this something is doing there, and what, if anything, needs to be done about it. Adaptive systems which sometimes know exactly how to react (intruders and foreign objects of known quantities) sometimes don’t know how to react (new organisms or maybe new materials,) and sometimes may even be prohibited from acting due to outside influences.

Nonsteroidal Anti-Inflammatory Drug (NSAID)

Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor (SSRI)

Beta Blocker


Gastric Bypass Surgery


Echolocation Jamming

Thought Blocking

Tangential Speech

Asperger Syndrome



Antivirus Software

Dazzle Camouflage

Discworld (Redirected from Stealth philosophy)


Identification Friend Or Foe (IFF)


Secret Handshake


Millimeter Wave Shielding



Safe Space

Sorry Roob, but I’ve run long in thinking of disrupters and shieldings within the context of a body being able to locate and identify “pirate signals”. And in this case, the “pirate signal” being messages received by the body, when the body either doesn’t know or maybe doesn’t understand these messages and their origins…let alone their meaning(s). Just wondering aloud some thoughts I’ve had regarding humans developing immunities to…pirate signals/hijacked communications.

BTW, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that “Safe Space” symbol almost identical to the symbol in the Trump ad Facebook just removed for being “a Nazi hate symbol”?

Yeah, the Trump one has a square around the triangle, the Safe Space has a circle around the triangle, and the colors are different, but they both have colored triangles encapsulated in other shapes, and the triangles are oriented the same. Weird.

^Course of Empire – Cosmic Dancer^

Oh…one last thought when thinking about the peculiarities of an entity being able to encounter and understand new things. You know what AI is never given? What accommodation never seems to be afforded Artificial Intelligence(s)? Leisure time. Time off. Breaks. Respite. Convalescence. If the machine is powered on, it fucking well better be working, and it best be working in top form…or else.

24/7/365 – no deviance from the established, no rests written into the score, and no recitatives for this songbird.

Sing to me songbird…sing to me.

Sounds like hell.

Back to you Roob.

^The Smiths Asleep^

Did you catch the wave, above? 😉

Finally, we get to the ’11’ of the 911 hack attack in Chicago in 1987 and Doctor Who… Who else?

*I recognise the Sontarans, Clicky, but what happened to the Rutans? …/lights up and smokes…*

‘The creature then stalks down and kills the others in the lighthouse. Vince dies first, then Adelaide. With its presence now revealed, the alien sheds its disguise: revealing itself to be a Rutan, the hereditary enemies of the Sontarans, a green blob-like amphibious life form, whose scout ship crash landed in the sea and is trying to summon its mother ship. With the Rutans losing the war against the Sontarans, they plan to turn Earth into a base for its strategic position, which will allow them to launch a counterattack. However, once the Sontarans find the planet, it will become subject to a photonic bombardment, taking countless human lives.

‘The Doctor modifies a weapon to destroy the alien. The Doctor and Skinsale retrieve diamonds from Palmerdale’s body belt to use the weapon, but Skinsale is killed by the Rutan in the process. The Doctor uses the diamonds as a focus for the electric lighthouse beam to convert it into a high-energy laser by which he destroys the Rutan mother ship. Disobeying the Doctor, Leela watches the laser destroy the ship and is momentarily blinded, and as a side effect the blinding flash turns Leela’s eyes from brown to blue. The Doctor quotes Wilfrid Wilson Gibson’s poem Flannan Isle as they leave.’

*Of course! Ruth Clayton, a.k.a. The ‘Black’ Doctor, smashed the lighthouse light, its illuminator, in order to ‘wake up’ and inhabit her real identity… /shakes head… I did not see that coming…*

“Though three men dwell on Flannan Isle
To keep the lamp alight,
As we steer’d under the lee, we caught
No glimmer through the night.”

A passing ship at dawn had brought
The news; and quickly we set sail,
To find out what strange thing might ail
The keepers of the deep-sea light.


*Pharmers… /grimaces…*

And now for the final video in the Professor Bulwer Smythe’s Max Headroom series… “so far…” 😉 I hand you over to Cade…


Wait…I’m supposed to be writing about each individual video? Bloops! I’ve been giving my overall impressions on all the videos we watched, and not really a detailed analysis, let alone a detailed analysis of each individual video. Erm…lemme do this, Imma start watching the final part, get to a stopping point, and I’ll give some thoughts on what I see.

PAUSED!!! @ 1:04 into the “Synchro-Vox” episode. Part 6 or whatever.

They start off by talking about personalities and how they develop, mention the book “I Am A Strange Loop” by Douglas Hofstadter, then use an example from the comic-strip Peanuts to make the case for static vs dynamic personality modeling. For those unfamiliar with the comic, one of the running gags is Lucy holding an American football for Charlie Brown to kick, she always convinces him to try to kick the ball, he is always skeptical, she always convinces him that this time will be different, Lucy ALWAYS pulls the ball away just as Charlie Brown is about to kick the ball, and he always goes flying and winds up flat on his back. In the video example, Lucy “swears on her mother’s grave” that she will not pull the ball away, the video goes on to talk about memory being a predictive indicator, but then only uses Charlie Brown as a reference “in one’s own head” as to the outcome.

I find this odd because Charlie Brown is not the only dynamic in this “predictive indicator”, and Charlie Brown is actually only half of the equation.

Q: Why has Lucy been excluded from the equation as a predictive indicator?

A: Is it because shes….*gasp*female?!?!!??

We are one of three parties involved in this dynamic, and really the fourth when you take the author of Peanuts into consideration. We can now reduce the dynamic to only two parties…the reader, and the author. The author is speaking to me, they are using the Lucy/football/Charlie Brown dynamic to communicate with me, and since this is a running gag, yes, we already know the outcome irrespective of the dialogue between Lucy and Chuck in the panes of the comic-strip. The author is talking to the reader, doing so via familiar characters and familiar situations, and the reader is listening. But to further explore “this static dynamic” a bit of Lucy, Charlie Brown and the football…

Q: What about new readers?

A: ??? there’s nothing new…it’s just new to you ¿¿¿

One could argue that everything dynamic is actually a static something that is not yet well understood by an individual or a group of individuals. As a new reader to Peanuts, you are unaware of the ongoing football feud between Lucy and Charlie Brown, and so as you continue reading, you hold out hope that “someday, Charlie Brown will indeed kick that football because Lucy will not pull it away”. So, you read on with starry eyes towards a better day that will never come because the creator has designed it that way. Lucy will always, always, pull that football away. Charlie Brown will never, ever, kick that football. This brings up yet another interesting question…

Q: Is it the end-result that matters, or is the interaction between the two parties of Lucy van Pelt and Charlie Brown what matters?

A: ???

One could argue that maybe we sometimes stress the outcome of a particular situation instead of relishing the events of the journey as we travel. Not to mention, the fact that Lucy can always be counted on to pull the ball away, the fact that Charlie Brown will always try and kick the football…Jesus…talk about stable people in a stable relationship. Lucy and Chuck are godlike in this regard (all thanks to Charles M. Shulz).


Thanks for the ride Roob. This was fun. Educational. Mind-altering. Soul-enlightening. A tad rough on the fingers and the carpal-tunnel, but its been well worth it 🙂

^G&S – Sonic 25th Anniversary Medley^

Thank you, Cade ❤

*Chicago rhymes with Clutch Cargo… /thinks… I’ll annoy…*

Really, you should see for yourself what the puppet professor with a third eye is dissecting and presenting in this series. There is another, and final episode promised. Maybe Bulwerk Smythe will include his take on:

  • Chuck “Frickin’ Liberal” Swirsky – a Canadian;
  • “Oh, Jesus!” – anagram of ‘use josh’;
  • The dildo he takes off his finger, drops to the floor, then holds in his mouth;
  • “My files!” – anagram of ‘my flies’;
  • Max’s accomplice, the filly presumably moving the tin background behind him when not whacking his buttocks with a fly swatter.

If this incident is as import-…

tv interference
P.S. From Cade – Roob, there’s one thing I thought about through the whole of this adventure, but neglected to get around to it. Primarily, data and data interpretation. One could argue that the numbers on subliminal advertising are wildly erratic due to improper interpretation of the results. Maybe even due to inaccurate reporting of the findings due to…erm…some underlying agenda. Needing the numbers to say something that the research doesn’t actually support. But I would think, that with subliminal messaging, someone is likely to pick up the mantle at some point, point out that the data was not being properly analyzed due to the science not being fully understood, modeling techniques are much better now, computer systems give us new insight, and soon you’ve got a whole wave of new converts with dollar signs in their eyes looking at your old subversive advertising bandwagon made shiny new.

Another thing that appears to be overlooked is that we are cyclical beings who live in a cyclic environment on a cyclical planet that is teaming with rhythms of all kinds and types. Looking for a single steady tone within a symphony of noise and noises that we do not understand seems at times…absurd. But, I guess that’s kinda maybe part of what makes us human. Chase the impossible /shrug

To me, that’s kinda what this whole series of videos was about. Looking at old things with new eyes in order to see something that others in the past likely missed. And not to sound dire or anything, but I see a problem in that. New eyes being hypnotized by an old spell that is still working its magic, yet no one seems to see the spell that is actually being cast. To relate, some thoughts regarding the past and its ability to rear its head when the details surrounding a something become clouded or lost in time.

The Radium Girls

Someday, Radium’s past will possibly be forgotten, and again is likely to be touted as the new big thing as people stare amazed at its glowy properties. Some things, the glowy bits aren’t so immediately obvious. Like lithium. And asbestos. And uranium. And cocaine. And mercury. And lead. And plastic(s). And polytetrafluoroethylene. And polychlorinated biphenyl. And the Atkins diet. And on and on…you get the picture.

Snake oil




tv interference


And that, Dear Reader, is that for this epic post. Well done. We’re glad you made it to the bottom of the pile on, and hope you enjoyed reading it as much as Cade Fon Apollyon and I enjoyed creating it…

*I’m not Missying you out at all, Clicky… /pats snout… You’re integral…*

*Blue sky thinking, sweetie. Now fetch us a Song to close on. Ta V much…*

… Feel free to stop a while and peruse some the other posts  at the LoL. Or not. Like most things in life, you are in charge of the decisions that you make. You have that power.

Have a Song 😀

Loch Doon Lift Off

*OMG, Clicky! Is it… Is it finally ready?*

UAXI Cover

*Yes! …/lights up and smokes… 80-fuckin’-pence? That’s an incredibly low price for some top quality entertainment, Clicky…*

*Or magick… /winks… Leggy mentions Aleister Crowley’s ‘Magick’ in the Foreword…*

*/drags… The book cover photo is one Leggy took at Loch Ness. Crowley once lived up there… /streams smoke… The place burnt down under mysterious circumstances last year…*

*Nah, pretty sure we’d know if Boleskine House had been hit by a meteorite, Clicky…*


*Oh, of course… /blushes… Yes, Mark Ellott’s story ‘The Meteorite’ can be read for free via Amazon’s ‘Look Inside’ function…

*A line from that song inspired his second story, ‘The Trade’, Clicky… /flicks ash… Wow, all Mark’s books are 99p for lockdown as well…*

*Hang on, I know this! Marsha Webb has a story called ‘Stripes’ in the anthology… /final drag… It takes time to understand you, Clicky, but I am getting there… /stubs butt…*

absolutely fantastic

*This just in! …/sticks finger in ear… I see what you did there…*

*Oh tush… /pats snout… Praise Leggy – he’s the one giving all these writers a chance, and everybody else a chance to read them for very little outlay…*

*Yeah, his stories do seem to be taking a life on of their own, Clicky… /lights up and smokes…*

CLICK5: Truth Inside The Lie?