*Yes, it was my 55th birthday yesterday, Clicky… /pats snout… It’s quite remarkable just how much The Rum Diary foreshadowed Johnny Depp and Amber Heard’s relationship that followed…*
Dear Reader, as you may or may not have deduced from Clicky’s recent posts, I have been totally engrossed and grossed out by the Johnny Depp Vs Amber Heard defamation trial, that’s been going on for six weeks in Fairfax,
Vagina, I mean Virginia, and is scheduled to conclude tomorrow. My evenings have been filled with little else…
*Yeah, I’ve still got a story to finish before the end of the month… /lights up and smokes… I really need to pull my finger out…*
… However, we’ve also received a new missive from Cade Fon Apollyon, and, boy, is it a doozy…
*/flicks ash… Oh, it’s very fine indeed…*
Enjoy, Dear Reader, enjoy! ❤
…if everyone is putting apple slush out for bees, and the bees aren’t getting their nectar from trees and plants, the bees will not be pollinating trees and plants…right? Bees will be fat and happy for a while, but eventually there will be no more apples for apple slush because there are no more apple trees, the bees will die, and so will everything else. Oh sure, for a short time apple producers are going to be reporting record profits because lunkheads are purchasing apples in droves, and bee populations will thrive, but it’s little more than a buildup to collapse.
That is of course unless humans (*cough*…corporations) are pollinating trees and plants and/or have developed trees and plants that do not require pollination.
Still, it sounds to me like apple producers are simply trying to bump sales. We are talking about humans and human endeavours afterall. Humans will eventually lose interest and/or get lazy, stop putting out the apple slush, and the bees will all die because they forgot who and what they were when they became totally dependent upon humans and their trendy bullshit.
Let us have another “wait a fucking minute here” moment…
…wait, wait, wait and hold the goddamn phone for a minute.
Q: What in the holy hell are “four year olds” doing “at school”?
Why are “four year olds” not at home? With mom. Or even dad. What are “four year olds” doing “at school” in the first place?!? Oh right…both mom and dad work all day so that your little family enterprise can afford a better standard of living. Better home in a nicer area, better cars, better food, nicer clothes, better holidays…all that good stuff that corporations have to offer these days…you want it for your family. Or perhaps it’s some other excuse (reason). Maybe its just that mom is a liberated woman who refuses to sacrifice her career for the traditional family life and be at the mercy of the patriarchy, and as a result puts the child/children into the care of others.
Here’s the tweet I actually saw…
Hey…it’s real simple…if you want your children “brainwashed” according to your own needs, wants and desires, then don’t fucking put them into the care of others/make your child dependent on others 5 minutes after your child is weaned, all so you can get back to work and making money ASAP. Take Nicola Sturgeon’s face off that Nazi photograph, put your own face on it, and be your own fascist in your own realm. Make the sacrifices required to make it happen, and stop trying to be a dictator outside of your own little bubble. Simple.
Mystery = SOLVED! Next?
One of the most interesting aspects of that trainwreck above, is that yet again, old people are sending young people to front lines to fight their battles. You are putting your own children between you and your enemy/enemies, and you’re asking your own children to get bloody for you. Infants no less. Infants and 4 year olds. You’re sending infants and 4 year olds out to do your fighting for you. Don’t sweat it tho. A very long and historied tradition this is.
You realize that “your” child does not belong to you, right? They are not property. I mean, you don’t belong to your parents, do you? “Your” children are living beings that are temporarily in your care. You are a steward, and your term has an expiration date. These children will develop their own needs, wants and desires, and someday they are going to go off into the world, be totally and completely their own person/independent of you and your selfish mandates, making their own choices and decisions. And here you are kicking them the fuck out into the world before they can even walk, and forcing them to start becoming themselves before they have a single clue as to who you are and before you have a chance to make a real imprint on them.
I gotta wonder what your real beef is. Meaning, it seems like people who are yelling and screaming about this kind of shit are actually harboring guilt for choosing day care + career over “traditional family”. You’re not mad at Nicola Sturgeon or the SNP or the Scottish government or LGBTQIA+ activists, you’re mad at yourself for making the choices you have and setting your own preferences.
*cough* money and material possession and upwards mobility and social standing, etc., etc. *cough*
If it bothers you that “your children” are making decisions and life choices that are not in line with your own, seriously, can you not see that you are the fascist? You are the dirty commie trying to do others’ thinking for them?
This bit is written with a certain someone in mind. This certain someone is almost sure to never, ever, read these words I’m about to write, but I feel compelled to write them anyway.
– – –
This world is not filled with evil people and evil things.
This world is not filled with evil.
You, are afraid.
You are afraid of anything, everything.
You so doubt yourself and your ability to meet challenges and deal with adversity, that you feel a need to become the very thing it is you fear.
You fear being hurt, being taken advantage of.
You fear having your life disrupted.
You fear not being able to do the things that you want to do or being hindered in any way.
You see, in everyone else, and in everything else, the potential to possess these qualities.
As such, you seek out the very things that do this.
In effect, you become the hindrance.
You become the hurter and the one who takes advantage of.
You become the disruptor.
You become the hindrance.
You become the evil you so fear.
And why do you fear this evil so?
Because it lives in you, and some part of you knows this.
You, say you love the world, but everything about you says otherwise.
This world that you love, only exists in you.
There is room for nothing else in this world, but you.
You, are the destroyer, not them.
So yeah, you are right that this world is full of evil…and you are the very one cultivating it.
– – –
Maybe someone else needs to hear that too. Maybe not.
Just got thinking last night about how we are told things, we believe them, and the demonstrable evidence is either lacking or missing entirely. The only way to “make it so” is via propagation of the lie. Create these little capacitors to carry a something they do not understand, they just, do. Do as programmed. Behave as instructed. You never met God, never met Satan, but you’ll dance to their tune(s) because some human fuckhead told you to. We seek out evidence to support these claims, and we may even begin to manufacture shit ourselves so that we have our evidence. This evidence is not for ourselves of course because we know it to be a total fabrication. No, this is for others. Make us not feel so alone in being ourselves duped, so we turn around and dupe others. Perpetuate the lie(s). Misery loves company. Blah blah blah.
Go fuck yourselves...the lot of you.
Yes, I get very angry sometimes at having to play your reindeer games. Probably more despair than anger to be honest. You disrupt me. You hurt and harm me. You flat out flummox me with your contemptuous bile spewed out upon anyone who acts in any way contrary to your own designs and desires. You drag me through your bullshit, and what’s worse is that I can feel that you want out of your loop(s), but you’ve become so comfortable with this loop/these loops that you have trouble parting with it/them.
That's why you come to me.
You want out, you know I know the way, so you seek me out for advice as to how. Some part of you wants to stay in it/them tho. You hate for me to tell you this. Perhaps you like hearing it tho. Perhaps you ego spies in them the opportunity to become the godlike something you so desire to become. Your ego sees that shedding these loops and removing yourself from them will remove all hope of becoming that all-seeing, all-knowing, and all-powerful being you want to become. The desire to act with impunity and have no fear of repercussions or any ill-effects. To act, free of guilt. To become untouchable. If you do not keep that ambitious part of you rooted in the notion of eradicating that which displeases you, you can never become the singularity you’ve grown to desire to become.
I’ve got news for you, to desire one thing, and to seek to acquire one thing, is to get…one thing. You also love to hear me say it…to seek nothing, is to find everything. To know nothing, is to know everything. To shed all, is to gain all. You don’t believe any of it, but you love to hear me say it.
What makes “all of this” the more vexing, is that I’ve seen and/or experienced some damn weird shit. I’m in no way contending that “The Else” does not exist. Quite to the contrary. There’s something, but I cannot qualify beyond that. Also, it’s been my experience that “The Else” is not a group thing. It/They don’t do parties. At least not in the way and ways that we here on Earth/Terra seem to view groups and/or how groups should behave. One entity, one path. And more than that, it’s your own particular and specific path. You cannot walk my path and find The Else. Sure I can guide you maybe sometimes, can help, or maybe just be supportive of you as you are lost, wandering, and I can provide no guidance or assistance at all other than just be supportive and encourage you to keep going.
Now you may be asking yourself “DUDE! Cade! Is it possible that you yourself have been duped?!”
In fact, I’d say that it’s impossible that I’ve been duped.
Because it’s not even remotely “possible” that I’ve been duped, rather it’s “likely” that I’ve been duped.
Likely almost to the point of certainty that I’ve been duped.
Wanna hear something every more unsettling?
That's all part of the game.
Necessary. Certainly a necessity. At times, you are going to have to be totally, and stunningly…duped. Taken for a ride. Your ignorance taken advantage of. You will be shown “who is boss”, so to speak, but the experience of it will be more humbling than humiliating. More enlightening than demoralizing. More sweet than sour. I know this sounds contrary, but one has to actually stand in such moments to understand them and to truly appreciate how gentle, delicate and caring this seemingly otherwise heavy-handedness really is. It makes one feel a part of, rather than apart from. Inclusive. And better yet, exclusive, because it was all designed and enacted, for you, and you alone.
Yes, many have come before, and many will come after. But this moment in time, amongst the uncountable, and in the unknowable, you as the individual that you are, are acknowledged, and you get to see, experience and understand the tiniest sliver of the unknowable. Don’t get too cocky tho. You’re gonna be slapped back to reality almost as quickly as you left it, but to me that made the whole thing all the more funny. Your results may (and likely will) vary. I personally love absurdity and paradox. The more ridiculous the better. Some folks don’t. I get the feeling The Universe knows this, and they may cater to your own dietary and/or cultural requirements.
Your vagina is huge.
My, you sure do have a large vagina.
I want a woman with a big vagina.
Those don't sound quite right, do they?
And to confound even further, and whether you realize it or not, any discussion on “big” is a simultaneous discussion on “small”. Without some opposing context, anything scalar loses all meaning. All is equal, and scale is irrelevant. And let us say you find your lady with the giant vagina…how many unsatisfactory vaginas did you cycle through before finding your big woo woo? Doesn’t the small/big ratio also say something about scale? Anyway, your quest is over.
Q: What does one do at the end of a quest?
Fucking hell, you find your perfect fanny, and all you can do is bask in your own satisfaction having found it?!?!? Desire dies. There’s nothing left to do. Not even your perfect, massive, vajayjay.
All right, all right, I’ll spring and tell you what I’m really thinking about here, and that is the role that dissatisfaction plays in satisfaction. The role(s) that which is null plays in not null. Opposition. Specifically, I’m thinking about how a place of perfection can exist, sans imperfection. How can one know that they exist in a “perfect” space, if there is nothing which exists to color and contrast that perfection?
Take the place known as “Heaven”, for example. Unless “Hell” is right next door, “Heaven” loses all meaning. In fact, Heaven would be some bland nullspace which, I would think, carries a resonance that prevents it from actually existing. It destroys itself at the moment of its creation because its lacks the very thing it purports to provide…harmony. And if Hell does indeed exist, and its right next door…whew! A bunch of rowdy-assed neighbors is gonna drop the property values in Heaven substantially.
Diminish the meaning of “what Heaven is”.
In fact, one could probably argue that Heaven and Hell existing simultaneously creates…normalcy? Certainly the normalcy that we know and understand. States of being, times of being, which allow existence to actually exist. I’m not saying that you cannot find your perfect something as I believe that one can. But, then what? Sustain? Maintain? How do you go about doing that? I think I should also mention, you’re not the only seeker in the Universe ya know. Someone else out there may also be seeking the very same thing(s) you were seeking.
Q: What if they find you, in possession of the very things they were seeking?
A: !oh shit!
You gonna share?
Yeah, I thought not.
You know what I’m reminded of when someone starts flashing “gang signs”?
A cop flashing a badge.
Once that “identification” is made, you’ve announced yourself as someone with some kind of authority, you’ve got a someone or something behind you, and you are now free to do whatever in the fuck you want, good or bad, right or wrong.
Just me, but when I see someone wearing gang colors or flashing gang signs or announcing that you’ve got a “street name”, you’re flashing your “creds” just like a cop would. Ain’t no difference between you and any other dickhead out there looking to exploit your position within an architecture to take advantage of those who have no such protections. At the end of the day tho, I guess that’s why we join groups. We get sick of feeling alone and powerless, so we join the very groups who take advantage of the alone and powerless.
I guess that’s why we wear designer clothes and drive expensive cars and seek to live in exclusive housing, wear expensive makeup, style our hair a certain way, wear jewelry, wear colognes and perfumes, accessorize, etc.. Virtue signaling to let everyone know what tribe we belong to. Kinda funny that we go out of our way to set ourselves apart as being or doing something different, yet we’re really just doing the same shit. Different handbag and shoes maybe, but the same shit.
We live with several death clocks constantly ticking, and we, ironically pay them little to no mind.
Death Clock 01: Breathing – this particular Death Clock gets reset every few seconds, but the limit that this particular Death Clock can run is about 6 minutes before you will cease to be you in this Earthly context.
Death Clock 02: Water – this particular Death Clock, for most, gets reset several times per day, but the limit that this particular Death Clock can run is about 3 days/72 hours before you will cease to be you in this Earthly context.
Death Clock 03: Food – this particular Death Clock, again for most, gets reset several times per day, but the limit that this particular Death Clock can run is about 30 to 40 days/720 hours to 960 hours before you will cease to be you in this Earthly context.
Now that you’ve got your head wrapped around those, let us address some of the more abstract and extraneous clocks that are just as real as those previously mentioned.
Death Clock 04: Pressure – we can’t really put a more or less standard type time on this one because death and life are so constant and at the same time finite, but we can say that too much pressure will crush, and too little pressure will discorporate, both resulting a rather expeditious (finite in time) type death.
Death Clock 05: Hope – the clock is related in many ways to DC 04 in that it will utilize pressure to cease the operations of DC 01/DC 02/DC 03, but not so direct as say traveling to the depths of an ocean or venturing outside of our planet’s atmosphere, but the presence of Hope keeps pressure in “The Goldilocks Zone” of “just right”, and the absence of Hope will cause a change in pressure which results in, you guessed it, death. Again, no real way to put a timer on this particular clock but it could be everything from starvation to firearms to asphyxiation to rapid deceleration trauma to engaging in risky/dangerous activities which could hasten death over longer periods to a poison being introduced to tax/pressure systems to shut down, etc., etc..
I could go on and on and list Death Clocks for everything from love to hate to taxes to adultery to walking down the wrong alleyway, but that’s not really the point of the exercise. Actually, there really is no “point” to this exercise other than to point out that death is always and forever, more a part of our lives than we give credit. Death is no some abstract or random chance type something that shows up when you least expect it or even when you most expect it…it’s just kinda…there. Always. Which makes me wonder…
Q: Why do we seem to view life through the lens of death, yet we never pay the lens of death much mind.
A: I'd go further an say that we pay neither life nor death much mind, but that's just me.
I’ve got no answers. I only know that I see death everywhere and in every thing. Doesn’t bother me. Yes, it used to, but eventually I guess I kinda got acclimated to seeing it. Didn’t desensitize me to it either, still stings like a mofo, but yeah I think I’m more acclimated to it now. Probably just a holdover from my youth and inexperience in wondering why I would exist in a world that contains so many pitfalls and so many avenues to death. If nothing else, it’s a metaphor for learning where to step, and where not to step. Maybe even for learning just how tenuous/precarious life actually is. How important balance is/can be. Lots of stuff here than can sustain life, lots of stuff here that can end it. Lots to learn on either side of the isle.
Ya think it’s possible to run out of memory? I get the feeling that I’ve addressed this topic in my writing previously seeing as how I first started contemplating the concept quite sometime back, but the topic has been creeping back into my head as of late and I’ve no idea why. Well, that’s not necessarily true as Texas having it’s own power grid has been a subject of some debate ever since the ice storms of 2021, and the entirety of the United States of America seems to be really upset that the State of Texas has its own power grid that is somewhat separate from the rest of the country. Kinda weird people suddenly getting pissed over this as its not as if Texas one day suddenly had its own power grid.
So you’re likely asking yourself at this point…”dude, what does electricity have to do with memory?” Welp, memory is storage space. As it pertains to computer memory, we’re talking about electrons stored in some medium capable of storing them. Now, I’d like to point out that my thoughts on “running out of memory” are not necessarily talking about running out of resources that can be used in manufacturing memory devices. Silicon is indeed “the biggie”, and sand, and more specifically certain types of sand(s), is/are most definitely running low thanks to construction(s) of all kinds. But the primary concept is reaching a physical limit to where even if there is a medium that should be capable of storing information, it cannot because some previously unknown or unthought about limit has been reached. Some maximum that exists in the firmament and/or ether has been broached or breached, and the laws of physics as we know them, no longer seems to apply. Some “null point” existed out there, we had no idea it was there, but now things that should work…do not.
We can all relate to running out of space. Hell, the current domicile in which I reside? Holy fuck, “my room” is so chock full of shit that I can barely walk in here. I have no place to write, so I haven’t been writing, and even when I do write I have to either sit on the side of the bed with my keyboard on my lap or sit on the floor in a very uncomfortable position which dictates that I’m constantly shifting my bodyweight, readjusting my position, and I gotta stand up every 15 minutes or so or else my legs will fall asleep. Doing anything at all in this room is uncomfortable and/or high-maintenance.
We’re such packrats, that when we do start grabbing, we never fucking stop. It’s only until things are way past the tipping point that we ever stop and say to ourselves…”hey, I might be running out of space!” By then its too fucking late. You were at critical mass WAY the fuck back down the highway, friend. It is with that in mind that I have to wonder as to why accommodations were not made prior to critical mass, why the proper questions were not raised previously, which makes me wonder why there are not people in the world currently pondering the question…”What happens when we run out of memory?”.
Not “if”, “when”.
Fuck it. If no one else wants to, I’ll do it. I swear, I gotta do everything around here.
I worked an 11 hour shift yesterday, and from the moment I arrived, the vast majority of people I encountered over the course of the day could not shut the fuck up about the Will Smith/Chris Rock thing that transpired at the Oscar’s show. It’s not like they were talking about it, it was as if they had to talk about it. It was as if, suddenly, everything that existed in their lives prior to Sunday night March 27th of 2022 had been put on hold or was no longer relevant in any way.
I don’t watch tv, and even if I did I sure as shit wouldn’t be watching some awards show, so I had to learn about this “event” from my friend across the pond. My first thought upon watching the clip? Holy shit…there is so fucking much wrong with this transaction, and not just and only the obvious. The first being, it showed just how fake television really is. How fake media really is. A “real” something happens, right in the big middle of a totally scripted and orchestrated something, and the real thing looks…fake. It was so out of place that one immediately had to wonder if the whole thing was scripted or if there was some kind of trickery going on. And why wouldn’t it look fake? Our brains have become so programmed to watching scripted things that we try and force ourselves to believe that anything and everything that happens during the course of an event “is part of the act”. Some plot twist or diversion, distraction or misdirection, but still part of the show. That everything is unfolding due to some plan, and everything will be explained/made clear at the end.
Sounds almost like standard Judeo/Christian thinking.
Everything is unknowable, until such time it is knowable, but even then someone else is going to explain it to you. Someone (or some thing) else will be behind what you know, and when you know it.
Um….duh? Of course they are “scripted roles”. The part of that truth that you don’t want to accept tho?
You, are the script writer.
You elected them. You expect them to behave in certain ways. The office(s) itself/themselves carries/carry an expected decorum, temperament, responsibilities, etc.. You, are the puppetmaster(s). Fucking hell, that’s the whole point of “representative” anything…they are a proxy you. You’re too busy to do the job yourself, so your hire the work out to someone else, and you expect, nay demand, that they dance to your tune. You want them, to be you. It’s like a weird parental type thing where you’re adopting a surrogate child, and you get all bent out of shape when this surrogate does not carry your legacy in the way(s) that you want. They rebel and do what they want/what they think is best for themselves (and, of course they do, because no one likes to be told what to do or how to behave or how to react in a given set of circumstances) and you throw a temper tantrum as a result. Don’t want to live in a world that creates puppets? Then don’t participate in a system that creates a massive number of puppetmasters trying to control a finite number of puppets.
This is where folks also potentially miss the mark as it pertains to religion/gods/goddesses. You yourself don’t want to serve, you want to be served. You don’t want to go along with the divine’s plan(s) for your life, you want to order the divine around, make them dance to your tune. Fuck the DJ’s playlist, you’re bombing the request line with what YOU want to hear.
“I want that”
“Did you see that weird growth on my foot? Can you do something about that?”
“My neighbor is really pissing me off…eliminate them please.”
"Can you tell me what is right and just regarding this Will Smith/Chris Rock thing?"
You never just chat with the divine about small pleasures, you always and forever, want it all, and you want the divine to give it to you…right fucking NOW! Nevermind ever other person/entity in existence, you are special and the only thing that should matter on the gods’ agenda.
Q: Have you ever been kneeling at the alter at church, praying, and said to God “Sup yo! How has your day been?”
A: Fuck no you haven't.
You’re down there in front of the church wailing and weeping, wrapped up in your own woes and self-pity, asking God to sort your tangled bullshit out whilst simultaneously putting on your public display in front of the entire congregation so as to get them chatting about “Oh my! What’s wrong with so-and-so?! They sure do seem to be in some kind of trouble!” You want me to venture a guess at how God/the gods’ day is going?
It fucking sucks.
It’s their day off, it’s a lovely day, and every single believer in them has chosen to be inside a gloomy structure and do nothing but wail and weep and piss and moan to the Almighty about how terrible things are. Life is awful, and it’s all God’s fault. BTW, if Sunday (or Saturday) is God’s day off, I get the feelings that prayers will not be received until the following business day. Ever gone on vacation, then when you get back to work, your email inbox is fucking jammed with a week or two’s worth of bullshit waiting for you? I get the feeling this could potentially be what it’s like for God/the gods. When they come back to work after their day off, their inbox is so jammed with petty shit, they have trouble finding the important stuff. Accept it; you are part of the problem.
Hell, you are the problem.
Do they not teach physiology in school anymore?
Vagina? Um, not trying to split pubic hairs here, but wouldn’t that be “vulva” and not “vagina”? Seems like “showing a little bit of vagina” would be a much more intricate and involved process bordering on a gynecological exam or legs akimbo, whereas showing a little bit of vulva” is rather straightforward.
But, what do I know.
I’m not a biologist, and apparently, one has to be a biologist in order to possess an understanding of biological things.
And speaking of lady bits, is a woman’s woo woo considered “cooked” if it’s been doused with chemicals and scents and products of all kinds designed to alter “the natural state” of said woo woo?
Was listening to that Ol’ Dirty Bastard tune and got to thinking of the concept of “baby I like it raw.” Well, if the woo woo has received a chemical baking prior to snacking, it ain’t raw. Sorry if you don’t understand where I’m coming from (no pun intended) but in the back of my mind is the lawsuits surrounding women who used talcum powder on their coochie, and eventually developed all kinds of issues as a result. You can read about it if you want.
You can even research it yourself further if you so desire.
I’m just thinking about the concept of women so trying to alter “the natural state” of their fanny, that alteration is eventually exactly what happens.
You may have noticed that this writing is chronologically backwards.
Hope you enjoyed the lesson in time travel.
No time to explain tho as I gotta go.
*It’s amazing, Clicky, just how much the D.U.I. Guy looks like my Uncle Dickie, when he was that age… /stubs butt…*