*Ain’t that the truth, Clicky. How in the fuck are we meant to be April Fooled this year?*
Hello there, Dear Reader! Long time, no speaky 😉
My good friend Cade Fon Apollyon sent me a tweet last night, depicting a weather event at his ‘old stomping ground’…
*He says that’s Tyson’s Corner in Virginia and tornadoes there are extremely rare…*
… Which reminded me of a bunch of tweets that crossed my Twitter feed earlier this week, all saying the same thing…
*Nice example, Clicky, butt that’s knot someone I follow… /lights up and smokes… Say, did you know there’s a 137 reference in that Tweeter’s bio?*
*Just a happy coincidence, then? Okay…*
… And that whole Oscars ‘Slap Heard Around the World’ scene at the start of the week put me in mind of Cade’s short story from Underdog Anthology XIV: Dark Ides of March, published in the Spring of 2021…
… So, I asked Cade if I could publish his story, here, at the LoL today, and he said, ‘Sure’…
*Knockout, Clicky, indeed…*
… So, here is ‘Spring Fevers and Bearded, Clammy Hands’ for your entertainment, Dear Reader. Enjoy! ❤
Spring Fevers and Bearded, Clammy Hands
Cade F.O.N Apollyon
If one were to read “A Novice’s Guide to Understanding Jealousy”, the first sentence of Chapter 1, Page 1 would almost absolutely have to immediately address the subject of a lack of self-awareness. In fact, I cannot see how the entire book could ever get around talking about anything except the topic of self-awareness and identifying one’s own shortcomings within the framework of this concept.
Jealousy, seems to place the offended party in some sort of vacuum. Like a shell or some sort of defensive posture where only the individual and their own interests matter. Their computational systems, assuming they have any, also seem to go offline.
“Mateo! Hel..loooo?!? Are you even fucking listening to me?”
My neighbor, John, was already agitated when he borderline accosted me in my car upon my arrival home from work. My zoning out in contemplation whilst being accused by my neighbor of having an affair with his wife is unlikely to assuage his irritation.
“My name is Matthew, Juan, and yes, I am very much listening to you.”
“I apologize, Matthew,” John fired back sarcastically. “Now, are you fucking my wife?”
“No, John, I am not. I’m standing here in the middle of my own front yard holding an empty lunch box, quasi-talking to you, really just hoping to go inside at some point and take my shoes off.”
I’d retorted with my usual dry and unemotional sarcasm. I tried not too sound precocious though as this was an extremely delicate and dangerous situation, and the last thing I need at this point is my friend thinking I’m trying to be cleverly deceptive.
“Have you, at any point, from the beginning of creation, to this very day, ever, fucked my wife?”
John was struggling, choosing his words for clarity; an obvious frustration and impatience in his voice.
“Yeah. But I only stuck my dick in halfway so I’m not fucking her nearly as much as I could be. And when one considers that my dick is only six inches long, it could be argued that I’m not fucking her very much at all.”
The look of shock and disbelief on his face reflected that my retort had caught him completely off guard. But as the initial look of surprise left his face, and his brain began to compute my actual words, his face contorted in confusion, began to relax, and I could tell it may have finally broke some ice as John’s default facial express returned. That expression then started to crack into a smile, it was obvious he was trying to restrain it, and he turned away from me briefly in order to, I assume, stymie a giggle. The slight hunch in the back, a hand to the face, and a couple of shoulder twitches were a dead-giveaway.
I’d already answered his initial query as to my ‘fucking his wife’, definitely and without hesitation in the negative. Quite easy to do as I was most certainly not ‘fucking’ his wife. Something very odd was going on here. This had to be one of his stupid, drawn out ‘practical jokes’. Surely some utterly ridiculous punchline, for which I will have to feign a fake laugh, is coming.
“Look John,” I said to his back. I have walked…” I glanced down quickly at the pedometer hanging from my belt to check the distance I had walked at work today; 17.3 miles, holy shit, “…seventeen point three miles today and my feet are feeling every foot of that. I’m going in to put my lunchbox down, take my shoes off, grab a beer, and I’ll be right back out. Do you want one?”
He knows, came a female voice in my head.
I froze. A warm tingling sensation suddenly appeared in my head, and quickly began to run from my crown, down my neck, and into my spine, as another warm and tingly feeling began in my feet and started emanating up my legs.
Great, I thought to myself. That’s all I need at this point…her.
The two opposing tingly feelings continued their creep and met somewhere in my lower back: we were connected now. That warm pulsing tingle of The Connection. We were synced.
Hello Matthew, came the woman’s voice again. I feel The Connection. I needed to speak with you. I needed to let you know that he knows. I needed to speak with you about how best to proceed regarding…
The woman’s voice was cut off as John, apparently having finally regained a composure he was comfortable with, turned back towards me.
“Yeah,” John started as he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’ll take a beer if it’s cold Matt. You get your shoes off, and I’ll meet you on your porch in a few. I’m going to go ask Patrice about dinner. Any chance you might wanna pop over? Do you have plans?”
John asking me to join he and his wife for dinner was not unusual. I was, after all, a lonely bachelor. A lonely divorcee. A washed-up burnout who over the past nine years had been fixed up with virtually every single woman John and his wife knew. But dinner tonight did not seem appropriate. I was in no way trying to read John’s intentions regarding this particular invitation as we had too much experience between us for me to read into it as being hostile. But I had to seriously consider it inappropriate under the circumstances.
Jesus, how uncomfortable might that dinner be? I thought to myself.
If you come to dinner, I’ll make you cum, came the woman’s voice again. I’ll cum all over your face Matthew, and you can cum on mine, if you want. It will be nothing but cumming for the both of us if you come to dinner.
Dammit Patrice, can you at least allow me to get my shoes off and grab your husband a beer before I make a decision on dinner?
Sure Matthew. I know my cooking isn’t always that great, but my dessert will make that dark and lonely heart of yours shine like the sun that it actually is. Mmm, I’m getting wet just thinking about having you inside me and seeing your light.
“Matt?” John said, snapping me away from my internal dialogue. “Matt, you’re zoning out again.”
“Sorry John. Been a long day at work and I have an even longer one in store tomorrow. I have a lot of work stuff on my mind,” I said, turning away from my neighbor and heading for the faux safety of my own home.
“Already trying to think of all the stuff I need to do tomorrow. Lemme grab you that beer. About ten minutes.”
I did not glance back to see if John was retreating back to his own property as I neared the relative safety of my own front porch.
Sorry you had a long day. I hope I get a long one tonight, Matthew.
Patrice, I myself would take an explanation of any length as to why your husband is over at my house breaking my balls over allegedly, quote ‘fucking you’, unquote.
I’ll explain in a bit Matt, and it will all make sense. I promise.
As I reached my front door, I tried to put Patrice and her shenanigans out of my head. Just as I began to fumble with my key for the lock, and just as freedom seemed imminent, I heard John call from what sounded like his driveway. I froze, closed my eyes, and tried not to shudder.
“Hey, Matt! Pedometer!” he shouted. “They ought to give those to pedophiles so cops know how many kids they’ve molested!”
I suddenly felt a tinge of fury. My heart knew that I should not be feeling this feeling, but I was. Whatever my neighbor was digging for, and why he was digging for it in me no longer mattered. This asshole has to be begging for a beating, but why he has chosen me to give it to him is a total mystery at this point.
Don’t let him get to you cowboy. You are closer that you know to being free of him forever.
I ignored Patrice’s comment entirely, turned to peek around the corner of my front porch to look over in the direction of the voice. Sure enough, there stood John in his own driveway. Immobile, and looking in my direction with a giant ridiculous smile on his face as if he’d just told the joke of the century and was now eagerly awaiting my guffaws of approval.
“That’s a great idea John,” I said in an absolutely flat tone. “Fantastic in fact. Why don’t you head inside right now and dial 911 and tell them your genius idea. You can tell me all about it when you come back over for your beer.”
The dry and unimpressed nature in my voice appeared to have gotten the message across, as his previously grinning face was now melting into such a pathetic sag that it appeared it may slide off his head.
He turned, looked down and I could tell his face was now twisting with confusion, and began walking dejectedly towards his house.
I turned back towards my front door, inserted my key into the lock, opened it, and stepped inside. Closing the door behind me, I could only think one word…sanctuary.
It may be a sanctuary from John, but not from me. With me, there is no sanctuary Matthew.
I need no sanctuary from you Patrice. You are my sanctuary.
* * *
John and I had become fast ‘friends’ when he and his wife, Patrice, had moved in next door to me a little over nine years ago. ‘Friends’ in the loose sense in that it was quite obvious from the start that John more or less inserted himself into my life whether I wanted him in it or not, and he was the type of fellow that clung to certain others who could provide him with specific things. He had a bombastic way for introducing himself to others, at which point he would size them up for what they could and could not provide.
I never considered him a bad guy, just not exactly a good one. Never seemed to have a thought of his own, which, unfortunately for me and because I was both easily accessible and tolerated his bullshit, just about every crazy idea, weird concept and stupid joke that drifted through John’s transom he would almost certainly parrot to me.
I stood inside my doorway for some time contemplating the nature of my relationship with my neighbors, and wondering what in the hell John was on about. As such, I find myself back at day one of when John and Patrice moved in, and going over every little detail as to how he’s gotten wind of mine and Patrice’s, alleged, affair.
Are you fucking my wife? Who in the hell asks a question like that? He didn’t really seem that peeved or upset. Perhaps the exchange didn’t happen like it does in the movies, and as such, he didn’t know how to react?
You’re contemplating aren’t you Matthew?
Patrice’s voice, in my head again. I’d forgotten we were still actively connected.
Yes Patrice, I am. Can you hear what I’m thinking? Like, the specifics?
No Matt, it’s more of a feeling. When we communicate directly, then yes the information sent along The Connection is very clear. But when you are mumbling internally I get nothing specific. Just maybe a feeling about what it may be regarding.
So, when I jerk off at night, you get no specifics nor details, you simply know I’m masturbating.
Rawr…so saucy Matthew. So aggressive. I like it. And speaking of, what was with that ‘you are my sanctuary Patrice’ nonsense?
For once, Patrice, I guess I just felt I needed to defend myself. The walls were kinda closing in, ya know?
Good on you Matt. That was brilliant. You’ve taken yet another step into…oh wait…John is calling me, needs to talk, he says.
OK, well, I’m going to ground myself and disconnect. I need to get your husband a beer, and I really need to get these fucking shoes off.
Matt, did you really walk seventeen point three miles today?
Yes I did Patrice. It was awful and I’m currently feeling all fifty-five of my years, and then some.
John wants me to come over and talk to you Matt.
What?! You, Patrice? Why you?
He feels that he may have upset you.
He did, Patrice. But that still doesn’t explain why he wants you to come over.
John seems to think that I’ll be able to smooth things over and you’ll come to dinner.
Patrice, I really don’t know if…
Shhhh….Matthew, just, let me come over. I’ll tell John it may take a bit, but I think I can smooth things over.
Patrice, this is weird as hell him sending you over, whom he just accused me of having an affair with. I’m on edge here.
Ground yourself Matt. Grab that beer, and I’ll drink it when I get there.
Patrice wait. Patrice?
“Fuck!” I said aloud.
She’s disconnecting. I could feel the tingly feeling in my back partially unwinding. She was already grounding herself.
I was still standing in the doorway, holding my keys and lunchbox. I felt so alone in the moment. Only recently had I, by some fluke of nature, acquired the ability to speak with anyone, any time, anywhere in the world, and yet at that precise moment I’d never felt more alone.
It didn’t help matters that, for the first six months after discovering my ability, I’d been talking, via thought alone, to a someone who originally told me that they were on the other side of the world. But as it turns out, this distant and seemingly completely harmless someone was actually less than fifty feet away the entire time. Patrice. And boy oh boy, once we discovered who each other actually was, did the tone and topics of the conversations ever change. The small talk and vagaries were gone. She was suddenly a firebrand, passionate, but a rogue, a rebel and downright nasty at times: and I don’t mean just and only sexual stuff either. For the last four months, she had toyed with me and psychologically beaten on me relentlessly. I had no idea what to make of any of it. Still don’t. Perhaps she’ll explain it someday if I can keep myself from tying cinder blocks to my feet and jumping into a lake.
You’re drifting again Matt. You really should ground before some sneaky someone you don’t know tries to connect.
I reached up with the hand holding my key ring, and selected the key that allowed itself to be singled out, as which key I used did not matter. This time it was the key to my one and only padlock.
I don’t even know where in the hell that padlock is, I thought to myself. No idea why I still have the key to it on my key ring.
No response from Patrice, nor anyone else for that matter, doesn’t feel like anyone else is connected nor trying to connect, so now all that remained was for me to close the current connection completely.
I reached out with the key, and touched it to the metal screw holding the face-plate cover to the light switch on the wall. Almost immediately, I could feel the somewhat diminished ball of coursing energy in my back begin to unwind like electrically charged noodles being slurped out via my head and feet, and then vanish completely.
I pulled the key away from the screw; disconnected. With little very little gusto and no thanks given to the key for its additional service, I hung my key ring on the key rack above the light switch, and retreated inward to get my shoes off my aching feet.
* * *
The doorbell rang and my hands suddenly went clammy.
How should I greet her? Should I shake her hand? Just say hello and immediately hand her a beer, while shuffling myself outside so that she does not attempt to come in? Should I go out into my backyard, toss the beer over the roof and into the front yard, and cry ‘My mom says I can’t come out to play right now, but there’s your beer crazy woman! Just like you like it! Shaken and stirred and every other fucking thing!’
It was just now dawning on me that, not only did I not really know my neighbor Patrice, we had never really spoken before. Not at any length, and most certainly never alone. Well, not ‘in person’ anyway. And most of the “remote” stuff was so scattered, unintelligible and seemingly pointless that the fact we’d been speaking almost non-stop for ten months, now too felt more like we’d never spoken at all.
Should I check my breath? Wait a second Matt…this isn’t a date. Relax.
Only now did a calmness fall upon me. The absolute absurdity of being thrown into a tangent over nothing at all. I was rattled over basically, nothing. A married woman is standing at my door, ringing the bell, because her husband, my neighbor, not fifteen minutes ago accused me of having an affair with his wife, the woman in question is now standing at my door, and he now wants her to smooth things over so I’ll come to dinner with them. Simple. I had not a damn thing to worry about. Except…
…Patrice and I have not spoken in person about our, less than conventional conversations. Wait, that doesn’t sound very good at all. “Less than conventional’ sounds exactly like what John was just accusing me of.
The doorbell rang again. My chest started to tighten.
Holy hell. It’d never occurred to me that myself and Patrice had not yet talked in person about our abilities. What if…oh my God…what if all this time, I wasn’t actually communicating telepathically with Patrice. What if some malicious asshole with psychic powers has been toying with me this entire time, and passing it off as if I was speaking to a neighbor because of some clue I’ve given away. Some game psychics play to amuse themselves, similar to a cat playing with a mouse.
I felt a very cold chill at the base of my neck, and for the first time in a very long time, I actually felt afraid. My mind was awash and digging through the memory banks for the last time that I’d even seen Patrice, let alone talked to her.
A knock now at the door. They are getting impatient and require a response. Doorbells fail, malfunction and sometimes just go unheard, but not knocks.
Face the music Matt. Grab a beer, this very second, then go answer the door.
“Hey Patrice. How are you?” I attempted to sound as nonchalant as possible as I pushed open the outward-facing glass door and made my way outside.
“Hello Matt. Is that beer for me? Or you.”
I could not tell if she was being playfully ignorant or not, so I just played it as cool as humanly possible for now.
“Why don’t you have a seat on the porch swing, I’ll sit in this chair here opposite you, and we can figure out who this beer is for.”
“Oh, OK, well, I hadn’t planned on staying long, but I guess I can sit for a moment Matt.”
“Whatever you want to do is fine Patrice,” I said while trying not to allow my face to twist with a confused look. “It’s just that I don’t think you’ve ever come over here before, so I guess I just assumed maybe you came to talk a bit, considering the circumstances and recent events.”
Patrice sat on the porch swing opposite me, and once she was seated I chose one of the four porch bar-chairs that were place around a small round table I’d picked up at a garage sale a few years back. The table was small, the chairs uncomfortable and I’d really only purchased the set as decoration as I had no friends to speak of and almost never had guests. For once, the table would come in handy and I placed the unopened can of beer on it.
Hands folded in her lap, Patrice was looking at me almost impatiently as if waiting for me to situate myself. For the first time I noticed that she had very beautiful blue crystalline eyes. I tended not to like blue eyes very much, crystalline blue even less, but in this case they suited her. She was attractive. I snapped out of my study of her form as it suddenly occurred to me that I was in great danger.
My heart was pumping at this point. Not from lust, nor anger, nor even fear nor any other emotion I could think of…this was a feeling of confusion that I’ve never before felt, and it was causing my heart a stress it had never before known. Not even twelve years ago when my wife of eighteen years told me she was through with me and my broken self, did my heart suffer this kind of trauma.
“Matt,” Patrice’s voice snapped me out of my waking coma, “John just told me about what happened earlier, and I must tell you that I am horrified.”
“I admit that I am quite confused as to exactly what just transpired Patrice.”
“Did he really shout out in a very loud voice from across the yard something about pedophiles to you?”
The bottom of the entire Universe just fell out from under me.
“Um, pedophiles?” I was trying to hold it together, but it was now clear that this slimy asshole is playing some kind of twisted game with me. He basically assaults me over adultery with his wife, and he goes home and makes up some bullshit story about a very in poor taste joke, completely omitting the adultery parts? “Yeah Patrice he did, and I guess he was trying to make a joke about the pedometer that I have to wear for work. It wasn’t very funny, was in poor taste, and I admit it upset me. Perhaps more than it should, but I do have to wear this thing every single work day, and to be completely honest and open, his comment is likely going to haunt me for some time for that very reason.”
“Well, I’m sorry that it upset you Matt, but that’s really not my concern nor why I came over,” Patrice said rather flatly.
The entire Universe just exploded. This is the kind of sick twisted games that my ex-wife used to play. Say, anything. Do, anything. Nothing, matters. She, held all the cards, she, was the dealer, and I had to play her games and take whatever she dealt out because I had nothing and no one in all creation, except for her. I was nothing more than a dislodged piece of navel lint in a wind storm.
“Matt, are you okay?” Patrice suddenly sounded exactly like her husband.
“I am contemplating what you’ve said,” I fired back calmly. “Were you expecting me to say something?”
“I guess maybe I expected you to ask me why I came over.”
“You’ve mentioned that you’re aware of something your husband said to me.”
“Yes, but that’s not the real reason I came over.”
“You said that already, Patrice.”
“Matt, are you angry about something?”
The alarm bells were most certainly going off now, full tilt, and this was absolutely turning into a life and death situation.
“Patrice, perhaps you should just tell me what you need since I don’t know you that well, and I’m certainly not a mind-reader.”
Patrice did not really react to my statement, but strangely reached around behind her back, and produced a large, letter-sized envelope. She leaned forward and offered it to me.
“Oh, haha, a mind-reader!” she said in an obviously forced tone, whilst simultaneously urging me with her eyes to take the envelope. “Me and John went to see a mind-reader once, except this one was a hypnotizer. Is that right? Hypnotizer?”
“Hypnotist,” I corrected her as I leaned forward and took the envelope. “I’m quite sure that hypnotists are those who hypnotize people for various reasons.”
A look of relief crossed Patrice’s face as I took the envelope from her hand, and I fell face-first into whatever new game she was now playing.
“Well, me and John went to this show where a hypnotist would pick people from the audience.” After finishing her thought, Patrice raised her hands in an mock envelope-opening type motion, implying that I should open it now, here, in her presence. “Anyway, John of course volunteered us both, and we both got to go up on stage and get hypnotized.”
Only moments before, my fear levels had just about caused my entire existence to seize and stop entirely, but now there was suddenly this strange feeling of…clarity. Perhaps everything leading up to this very moment in time was some kind of test to see if I could in any way handle the horrors that were almost sure to materialize from this envelope’s contents.
I noticed that Patrice was arching her eyebrows as if to hurry me along. I looked for a moment deeply into her eyes, and that gloomy image which was beginning to form of Patrice being John’s soulmate or clone or whatever it was had disappeared. Odd that it continued to rattle on outwardly as I peeled back the flap on the envelope and produced what appeared to be no less than five folded pages.
“John barked like a chicken and clucked like a dog.”
I had only just started to open the letter when it struck me what Patrice had just said.
“He barked like a chicken and clucked like a dog? Don’t you mean that he barked like a dog and clucked like a chicken Patrice?”
“That’s what the hypnotist said Matt. He told John to bark like a chicken and cluck like a dog. I don’t know how John did it, but he did.”
“That’s…frightening, Patrice. I don’t even want to know…”
‘GROUND YOURSELF RIGHT NOW!’
The first line of the first page jumped off the paper and hit me like a lightning bolt. Instinctively I started to reach down and grab one of the metal legs on the small table, but my survival instincts kicked in and I resisted the urge, thinking that this may be a trap of some kind. But almost as quickly as I began to doubt, I remember the odd feelings that I’ve felt during the processes of being grounded, ungrounded and The Connection. Being both an electrician and a semi-amateur radio enthusiast, there are things that have been happening over the past ten months that I can in no way begin to explain.
I looked up from the letter and at Patrice. She gave a small nod, and there was a calmness to her being which provided just enough assurance for me to throw caution to the wind and play along. Knowing that the table’s legs were a poor ground, I reached out and grabbed one anyway and continued to read as Patrice continued to ramble.
“I don’t really remember being hypnotized, but everyone said I was. They said I got trapped in a box that wasn’t there, and I couldn’t get out.”
For the time being, please read down only to where it says ‘STOP HERE!’, keep reading until you get there, and I’ll ramble on about hypnotists in the meantime. Also, keep your hand firmly wrapped around that metal leg on the table until we finish here, and please do not begin to wonder internally how I know all of this. I do, and answers will come later.’
“John says that he can remember being hypnotized, and he can remember everything he did, but I don’t remember anything at all,” Patrice continued. “He says he only did what he was told because he knew he was part of the act. But me? He says that I was absolutely terrified and screaming. He said I really honestly thought that I was trapped in a box even though there was no box.”
‘We are both of us in great danger because of our, ‘gifts’. I would ask that you, later at some point this evening, find yourself a proper grounding point, and read the remainder of this letter ONLY when grounded. I will go ahead and tell you that I am a beard. My marriage is an arranged sham so that my husband can collect his inheritance, and myself and John will not be married much longer as he is already arranging the divorce and planning to move to somewhere in Java. I will of course get a piece of his inheritance as payment for services tendered over the past fifteen years of marriage. More on that later though. The Great Magician is awake, and I have reason to believe that The Great Magician has somehow found the both of us…meaning you and I. Does this mean anything to you? I am so very sorry for all of this. Hopefully, the rest of the letter will better explain what I know, and what I don’t. P
A quick thumb through the sheets indicated that this letter was approximately eight pages long. Visions of Armageddon suddenly swirled in my head as my mind flashed back to the horrible tales of the end times taught me in church as a youth. But that’s exactly what this moment felt like. I felt like I had just walked out of the sunshine and green grasses onto the burning and bloody fields of Megiddo, and me right in the big middle of the fighting between the warring factions of good and evil.
“Which reminds me, Matt. John did ask me to tell you that he was sorry about his joke he made earlier, but the real reason that I came over was I wanted to know if I could borrow a cup of milk. I’m making John some cornbread for dinner, and I need some milk.”
“Patrice,” I said calmly, looking up from the letter. “Did you know that you can substitute beer for milk in certain baked goods?”
Patrice’s face was aghast. Honestly, aghast and unknowing. I’d hit her with a curve-ball.
“Really?” she said.
I folded the letter and thoughtfully placed it back into the envelope, before sliding the envelope into my shirt pocket as I stood.
“Yeah really really. I have a beer sitting right here, which I am going to give you. I’m going to go inside and get you…how much milk do you need?”
“I only needed one cup of milk. Whole milk if you have it,” she said rather sheepishly.
“Okay Patrice, I’m going to go inside and get you one cup of whole milk, and if you decide that you would like to give the beer a whirl, only use half of a cup of the milk in your cornbread, and use a half of a cup of the beer in substitution for the other half-cup of milk.”
“Will that really work?” Patrice asked disbelievingly. “What…what does this do?
“It gives the cornbread a bit of a different flavor is all. Better in biscuits, but it works with cornbread too. And you’ll have exactly four ounces of beer leftover you can sip on if you want.”
“Sure Matt, I’ll…give that a try. Thank you. Do I need…”
“This beer has already gotten kinda warm,” I said, not letting her finish. “Just make sure you allow it get a little warmer before adding it to the mix. I’ll be right back with your milk.”
I retreated into the house thinking that I had no idea what answers, if any, Patrice’s letter might contain. At this point, it was apparent that her rather substantial looking letter was more likely to contain mystery than clarity. One thing was certain though, I’d had just about enough of being at the mercy of the whims of an assembly of douchebag neighbors and cryptic mystics playing their god games. It was time for me to stop being a leaf in the wind, get serious, and hit the books to start researching this insanity. It was time that I become the storm.
Right after I get Patrice her milk, of course.
*Wait. he tweets out ‘it’s Friday once again’ each week, Clicky… /stubs butt… Doesn’t he?*
*Ah, ya got me…*
We hope you have enjoyed today’s post. If you’d like to read Cade’s story in proper book form, as well as 12 other short stories and a substantial poem from a variety of authors, then Underdog Anthology XIV is available for a staggeringly low price…
*You could get a full set of Underdog Anthologies for well under twenty quid. That’s fantastic value…*
Until next time, Dear Reader, have a Song 😀
*Whoa! What you doing, Clicky?*
*Is that? …/rustles pages… It is! It’s a new missive from Cade…*
*Fabuloso! Let’s get down to it, Clicky…*
Hello there, Dear Reader 😀
I know, I know; it’s been exactly 100 days since our last taste of the Okie Devil of TextUS’ special fixins…
*Yeah, it was on 5th November last year, Clicky… /lights up and smokes…*
… This one’s a bit on the steamy side. Enjoy! 😉
There are many moments in life. One of the more interesting being when you are folding a comforter, having to suspend it way up in the air by holding it up over your head so you can straighten it out, your knuckles come into contact with particleboard paddles moving at speed, and you suddenly remember…”HEY! I have a ceiling fan, and the damn thing is on!”
Don’t fret tho, I’m fine. I really didn’t need those particular layers of epidermis anyway.
I GOT LAID LAST NIGHT!!!
OK, so, calm your sex hormones, I was asleep and it was a dream, but…I GOT LAID LAST NIGHT!!!
About as close to sexual intercourse as am ever to get again, so, close enough. Anyway, she was quite young, probably 35 years old, and quite fit. Yeah, lotta red flags there, and I’ll go ahead and spoil it in that I honestly didn’t wake up feeling great about having an meaningful erotic dream because the whole damn dream was so full of red flags that I’m still torn as to whether I had a good time in the dream or not. We’ll get to that tho.
Anyway, I’m in this huge room in a house that I do not know, the room is painted flat white, plenty of lighting although I would not exactly call the room bright, the dark beige carpets and many assorted rugs everywhere, and the room is rather strange because it had to be at least 30 x 30 feet (9 x 9 metres) but the room contained no vaulted ceilings nor even elevated ceilings. Seemed more like a giant garage that someone had finished out. Another weird thing was that there were all manner of people coming and going. Seemed like every 5 seconds, someone was popping in one door, then exiting another, which brings up another oddity about this room in that it had an excessive amount of doors. Only 4 walls but each wall seemed to have way many more doors than even a room of this size would require, and I started to think maybe this room I found myself in must be a centralized type room rather than some add-on type room.
To make matters even more strange, everyone who popped into the room never loitered, and they always closed the doors. They’d walk into the room from one door, close it, make a beeline for another door, open, ingress, close. And yes, there were also a ridiculous amount of people moving about. So yeah, here I am in this room, reading a book, and this gal pops in and starts chatting me up. Really strange as not a single person has paid me one bit of attention, then all of a sudden this on lady not only notices me, but she makes a beeline for me instead of a door, then starts up a conversation.
(red flag...no one, and I mean NO ONE in my real life ever strikes up a conversation with me, and if they do, I can almost be assured that they want something and they think I have it)
I cannot recall how it was that this conversation turned into a sexual encounter so rapidly, but I do recall her beginning to strip down to reveal a bikini, immediately removed her bikini top, mentioned that she’d been interested for some time in perhaps becoming friends with me but could never work up the courage to speak with me, and she then said something like, “I’ve also heard you were a great lay and I want to see for myself”.
(yep, another red flag)
Let me interject at this point to explain that “the feeling” of the dream was as such that none of this felt particularly awkward within the framework of the dream itself. Yes, I recall having a “is this really happening?” type of feeling, but at the same time the environment itself did not emit that “RUN!!!” vibe. Like, somehow, and embedded within the framework of the dream itself, there was nothing within the perceptible realms of sensory and logical data which even hinted at the “something is really fucking wrong here dude! Fucking run! Run for your fucking life!”, which I know for a fact is quite prevalent within my actual life. Which is why I am single, why I do not “chase women” or date or whatever, why I am hesitant about trying to find a relationship, blah blah blah.
So, at this point I’m sitting on the floor with the book I was reading still in hand, this really attractive and shapely woman is standing right in front of me wearing only bikini bottoms, looking at me, and I finally have this strange vibe wash over me. It is not really a warning signal of sorts, more of a “this relationship is unlikely to work out long-term” more than a “this relationship will end very badly” sort of vibe. It is at this exact same moment that she quickly stoops down, begins kissing me quite passionately (or at least, forcefully) and simultaneously begins to unbutton/unzip the shorts I’m wearing. Is it weird to say “the shorts I’m wearing”? Is it really necessary for me to point out that the shorts she is unbuttoning/unzipping are not a pair in my dresser drawer? Should I have said “my shorts” instead of “the shorts I’m wearing”? Not sure how to phrase that as both of those seem odd to me.
Once unbuttoned and unzipped, she grabs the sides of my shorts, then backs away and pulls them off. She’s bent over facing towards me and she pulls my shorts down rather hastily but unevenly/alternates which side she is pulling on, and as a result her breasts, which are not large nor particularly pendulous even due to her posture, rock side to side as a result of her pulling motion on my shorts. Gonna take a moment here to mention that the form of a woman and the motion(s) of her being are fascinating to me. Even when a woman is standing still, and even in/with women who are somewhat less than “the ideal woman shape(s)”, her form is moving always. The curves, the bends, the way in which a woman moves…everything about a woman’s form is an absolute delight. Oh, and again this woman was quite fit, but she had hips for days. Even if she’d had more substantial breasts, and even had she not been wearing French-cut bikini bottoms, I don’t think either would have diminished the majesty of her hips. I’d not seen her ass yet, but I’m about to.
As soon as my shorts came off, she dropped them to the floor, and without missing a beat she grabbed her bikini bottoms, off they came, and to the floor they also went. She quickly marched right back towards me, straddling my legs and facing me and placing her public mound almost right in my face, again leaned down/bent over, grabbed my shirt at the bottom, which now placed her breasts right in my face, she then stood again taking my shirt off as shit did, dropped it to the floor, then offered me her hand. I put my book down, she pulled me to my feet and then led me to one of the many rugs that were laying about the room. She sat down, never releasing my hand, pulled me to the floor then pushed on me indicating I should lay down and on my side, she then turned opposite me and then laid down in the 69 position for a moment, but then immediately flipped over laying facing away from me putting her ass right in my face and she said “I want you to start by my licking my ass”.
I told her, and rather matter-of-factly I might add, that “we are not well acquainted enough yet for me to do that sort of thing.” She sat up on an elbow, looked at me, then gave a mock frown, she then got a really alluring look in her eye, her face turned from the fake frown to a sultry smirk and said, “well then, that will give me something to look forward to at some future meeting. But as for now…” at which point she flipped back over facing me, and things get a little blurry at this point.
Yes, we engaged in all manner of “freaky sex” encompassing just about every position and configuration you might be able to imagine, but it really was blurry. We were doing these things, but within the framework of the dream and even now that I am outside of the dream, there was all kinds of stuff happening but it all had this strange air that it was not actually happening, even tho it was. Keep in mind that during all of this, people are still coming and going in and out of these doors. Not a single soul is paying us one bit of mind, and we too are generally not paying them any mind other than perhaps I did seem to notice that people were coming and going.
So, with that in mind, we’d been “at it” for some time, when suddenly, a woman walks into the room via a door, and she makes straight for us. This is quite jarring of course since everyone else seems to not know we exist at all. This woman walks over and seems to know this woman I’m having intercourse with. She is what some might call “a bit heavyset” or perhaps “chunky” or “healthy” or some other nonsense nomenclature that we pigeonhole folks with. She’s pretty, with long hair that is kinda frazzled as if she’s been walking outside in the wind, sizeable breasts that do not appear to be restrained by a bra, and through her shirt, I can see that her breasts almost appear to be resting on her belly, even tho she really doesn’t have “a belly”.
I guess I don’t feel bad about somewhat “sizing her up” as I’ve tried since she arrived to make eye contact with her but she is ignoring me completely, and it’s almost as if she can see me attempting to make eye contact but consciously avoid it it. So, here I am sitting on the floor, my legs extended out straight and my hands behind me/holding me up, the woman I am with is atop me in “regular cowgirl”, and this other woman is just standing there and looking at my partner, who is also looking at this woman/they are in eye contact, and this new woman says rather flatly, “Can I have him next?”
I didn’t laugh in the dream, but I gotta laugh here because I think at this point my brain has to KNOW, even in slumber, and without a doubt, that this, is a dream. The woman I’m with shoots me a glance, has a smirk on her face, and whilst still looking at me she says “I don’t mind sharing him if he doesn’t mind giving you a turn of your own.” The other woman did an immediate about-face, went straight for the same door she’d entered the room via, and left, all without so much a shooting me a single glance or acknowledging me in any way, other than her request to my partner “for a turn”.
OK, so at this point, the fuzzy sexual encounter with this current partner gets even more fuzzy. I only know that we seemed to have continued our exploits in some way(s), but I honestly have no idea in what way(s) nor the length of time expended. I only know that it seems like a large amount of time was somehow compacted into a small space, and then suddenly, she was gone. The very moment she was gone, her “friend” reappeared, marched right over to me, and said “did you know that she is married?”
Somewhat aghast, I replied that I did not know she was married, and now I’m suddenly thrown into this rapid depression of “fucking hell, now I gotta deal with this shit”. I guess this friend of hers “wanted a turn” only to come back and tell me that her friend I was banging, was married. This had all been some kind of setup I guess. But to make matters even more strange, this revelation did not seem to phase the friend one bit. I guess she could tell that I was distressed at the news she’d just provided me, she’s standing above me staring at me rather blankly, she then reaches down and grabs the bottom of her shirt with both of her hands, removes the shirt in an extremely rapid motion, then bends down and starts to kiss me. Her breasts are indeed quite large, and not only are they pendulous, but they are very pendulous.
Yeah, that’s where the dream ended. An no, I did not wake up in a puddle of goo. I recalled upon waking that she had a lot of orgasms, but I myself don’t recall having any in the dream. I guess I was having entirely too good of a time to bother with the orgasm. During the entire dream, the first lady had some kind of air about her that made me feel at ease. I’m unlikely to be able to describe it to you in any detail, but there was something about her and something about being in her presence that caused no alarm bells, even tho there were most certainly red flags popping up everywhere.
The only actual alarm bell I got was from the second woman, and that was only because of her telling me that the first woman was married. I got no alarm bells from the second woman either, but there was the one red flag (other than the fact that she wanted to have sex with me) and that was that she told me that the other woman was married.
Yep, a red flag and an alarm bell in one.
Lemme splain…see, I got no alarm bells from the first woman, so, even tho this second one says the first is married, how do I know that? The second woman may be lying. I got the red flag in the dream, I got the alarm bell in the dream, so why is it that it only occurred to me after waking that the second woman may have been lying?
Fucked if I know either.
I only know that I felt totally at peace with the first woman and she seemed totally comfortable with herself. Maybe it’s because most of the time she was speaking to me as if I were a person, other times were very matter-of-fact, and there was little in the way of actual seduction or vamping, and I never had the feeling that she was trying to charm me. More like a situation where two people were talking, and it evolved into something else. And for the record, I don’t think that her being considerably younger than I, and also falling within a physical category that I tend not to pay much mind to really played much part. I personally have always had eyes for older women, and “older women” tend to almost never fall into the same physical categories as “younger women” with respect to dimensions and “perfect dimensions” and all that jazz. Got nothing against anyone being younger than me, and at 54 I’m not even sure what “being younger than me” even matters or what part it might play once a woman is deep into her 30’s or 40’s.
Yeah, if some 23 year old woman waltzed up to me and expressed interest? Fucking hell, Jesse Owens time, cause something is wrong with this scene and I’m getting the hell out of there. But someone that is 45 or so? Yeah, that’s weird to contemplate as even tho she’s 9 years younger than I….SHE’S FOURTY-FUCKING-FIVE FOR CHRISSAKES!!! Probably already has an AARP card, owns a burial plot, a vegetable garden, and cares for a minimum of 5 indoor cats and probably at least 10 outdoor cats. Levity aside, she’s been around, and likely loaded with battle scars and baggage.
That, I can relate to.
Experience. And that’s not to say that younger woman or younger folks cannot have experience, because they absolutely can. I guess I’m just a bit weirded out that this one particular woman appeared to be in her early to mid-30’s, but she moved and behaved like someone that was much older. Well, perhaps not physically moving as an older person because she was quite spry and I guess it’s possible that older women may not have the ability to be all sporty and ambitious sexually, but I really wasn’t thinking of “how she moved” as it pertained to coitus. More her mannerisms, how she carried herself, how she behaved.
And why was my time with the second chick so brief? Why did my brain decide that I’d had enough? Very perplexing the lot of it. No idea what it all means tho.
Dreams are weird.
Not a clue why I’m suddenly having a dream about a woman.
Two, no less.
Yeah, I’ve had eyes for a few ladies (and I do mean few, meaning, I think exactly four to be specific) over the past 5 years, but I’ve never pursued any because I am in no position to do so. Were my position different, yeah there’s a good chance I would have likely prompted them for an immediate rejection long ago, but I’m in no such position. I’ve not much money, no automobile, I’m old, I’m weird, I’m outcast in my family and have few friends, and am unattractive in just about every way imaginable. Question here being, why am I now dreaming about a woman/women? And why so casual? Is this something in my subconscious thinking about finding a partner that accepts me for who/what I am, as I am?
Meh, I’ll shutup about it and figure it out on my own. Maybe I can figure out something that will result in me getting laid. Will keep you posted.
Actually, I won’t keep you posted. I’m not very gossipy and certainly don’t kiss and tell. Cept maybe that which transpires in my dreams.
If you are plumbing the depths of philosophy, and suddenly find yourself thinking that you are smart or wise or learned or have reached enlightenment or you’re a master now or whatever? That feeling of power you are experiencing is actually nature’s alarm bells ringing. You can go ahead and get all high and mighty if you so desire, just know that if you do choose to go that route, an ass-kicking is likely awaiting you somewhere down that path.
Maybe even more than one (assuming you survive the first one and decide to continue on).
Hell, maybe the ass-kickings are worth it. Maybe some special something lay at the end of the path paved by cravings for dominance. And if you think about it, probably the most egotistical path that anyone ever took (or at least so far as I know) was the path taken by God. And yes, that “God” of the Holey Bobble.
I mean, Bible, Holy.
When dissected, that entire creative act was nothing but ego, and all for ego, resulting in a shitload of ego and egos. Seriously, have you ever stopped to consider that God had to, at some point, stop themselves prior to actually creating things, and contemplate the concept of “what if things go wrong?”
Really...chew on that for a moment.
The resources of “existence” are, so far as we know, finite. There’s only so much matter and only so much energy available to work with. If you burn up too much, or even burn it all up, what are you left with? What are your options? To me, I read the creation story of Genesis as an entity taking a very big chance. Yes, this entity was totally alone, probably quite lonely, maybe wanted some company, but if this fucker was/is as smart/intelligent as advertised, that means they HAD to know that, if this doesn’t work, I’m (potentially) fucked forever.
Lotta dynamics in that creation story, but it’s been my experience that no one ever wants to plumb these depths. Really break down what God may have been thinking. Too much reliance on the “all powerful” and “all knowing” angles, with no exploration (nor empathy) at all regarding the psychology of the act(s). Not publicly or outwardly anyway. Good fucking way to get your ass ostracized or maybe even tied to a pole and set on fire. THEN who are you gonna have to talk to, eh?
Yeah, at the end of that previous section, I suggested that “siding with God” tends to get one’s ass kicked to the curb, or at least sent to the back of the bus. Even by “the godly”. People have their own understanding of things, and that’s good enough for them. Trouble is, they also require it to be good enough for everyone else.
What I also suggested in the end of the previous section, was that maybe God is isolated because we put them there. Cast them out. Push them away. Look, I am totally honest with you when I say I have no fucking clue if God is real or if there are gods or whatever. But I can also say in complete honesty that “there is something”. I don’t believe, I don’t disbelieve, I exist, and I attempt to assimilate and understand the data provided me as best I can. And holy shit is there a fucking mountain of evidence to suggest that “something” exists. “Something” outside of our understanding and beyond it. Not just and only in the myriad of tales coming to us through the ages either, but here, and now. That the unknowable exists, it can be known to exist, and simultaneously remain unknowable. Now, if that doesn’t instill you with some kind of hope, I don’t know what will. To me anyway, it says that not only can the unknowable be known of, it can be incrementally known, which means that at some point the unknowable can be entirely known.
I would imagine that our mortality/our finite amounts of time as we measure it here could put quite the dampener on such thoughts. Make such a quest seem hopeless or maybe even impossible. But let me add this, and that is, if it is impossible, then from whence does this desire to seek it emanate?
Something is feeding this desire.
If knowing the unknowable was truly impossible, I’d think that the desire to seek the unknowable would also be impossible or incapable of existing. The desire to know the unknowable cannot exist on a plane where the unknowable also exists, yet cannot be known. That says to me that, not only does the unknowable actually exist, but the possibility of knowing the unknowable also exists. I’d also think that the desire to know the unknowable could not exist if the unknowable did not also actually exist.
Wait, did I just repeat myself there kinda? Say something I already said? Meh fuckit…just wondering aloud how I can posses a desire for a something that does not exist. How I can have knowledge of a something that does not have even the tiniest of perceptible indications as to it’s existence.
Ya know, another thing that seems to be dangerous within philosophy is omission. Suppression. Relegation. Dismissal. Unqualification or even misqualification. These things seem to express themselves for a reason, and to dismiss or otherwise incorrectly qualify them seems to be an invitation for disaster of one kind or another. I know I know, you cannot have distinction without specificity, and specificity requires some level isolation. But this is philosophy we’re talking about. If money ever had competition for attracting gluttonous and/or insatiable persons/entities, I’d think philosophy would be it. Meaning, to “not want it all” with respect to philosophy almost seems like missing the point of philosophical meanderings entirely.
Hey, do you catch the irony in me saying to exclude exclusion? Suppress suppression? Relegate relegation? Dismiss dismissal?
I think maybe more than anything I’m thinking of being mindful of when one is being exclusive or when one has excluded a something. Remember that you have done so. Might provide some insight upon encountering impasses. Just, be sure to remember not to suppress your remembering, lest ye forget.
The stress finally got to me yesterday. It took a shade over seven days to crush my spirit, and I spent a good portion of the late afternoon and evening feeling absolutely terrible.
Like some part of me had given up or maybe just collapsed under the strain. So much hope and so many thoughts of a fresh start, plus perhaps some thoughts of maybe just a little time to breathe and reflect and maybe do some soul searching in the midst of a new perspective…
An extension of the old. And why not tho? I’m still me, right? Same old person? Seriously, will anyone ever allow you to be anything other than what you are, which is actually an amalgam of what you have been? Nah, people like you the way you are…even if they hate or despise you. People like reliable things. Consistent things. They want others to be reliable, and yes, even if you can only be counted on to be a dirty dish rag. It bolsters their own position. I mean, if you get your shit together and they no longer have complaints about you, they’re out of a job. Suddenly, they become what you were…
an unemployed loser.
On top of that, they were wrong about you, and no one like being wrong. They gotta figure out how they were so wrong about things. And I’d figure they’d also need to either endeavor to put you in your place, or find a new recruit.
Q: Is this what codependency is?
A need to find individuals on which one can project their own world view, and self-reinforce that world view in order to reinforce individual perspectives on how the world is and/or how they think the world should be? I only ask because it sounds like codependency with a healthy portion of gaslighting. But, I admit that I don’t understand a lot of these psychological archetypes, and I also think that I’m too hopeful of a person and too happy a person to always try and paint folks in such lights.
Wait! Hol’up, hol’up…wait just a damn minute here…
Q: Is “being hopeful” and/or “being happy” to be considered a psychological condition and/or psychological conditions?
A: Like, a negative psychological condition?
What is it that we are ever, supposed to be. What, is, “right”? Anyone have any ideas?
One of the problems with philosophic, psychological and similar or related studies is that you cannot engage in studies of such areas without getting dirty in some way. You must leave who you are behind and become something you are not, or at a minimum get out and dabble a bit. Let’s be fair, one does not really need to obtain 3rd degree burns over 90% of one’s body to know that fire is hot and/or fire burns.
One of the interesting dichotomies about the realms known as Heaven and Hell is that these places and the entities that reside in them are so wrapped up in their own individual archetypes that they lack any empathy for their opposition whatsoever, hence, they cannot step outside of their realms and know anything except their own realms. This includes any preconceived notions they have about their opposites and the inherent need to support/reinforce these notions due to where they are. I mean, if you are a resident of Hell, probably not the best of ideas for you to start making “what’s so bad about Heaven?” types of inquiries.
If the Heaven/Hell example doesn’t work for you, maybe think “Democrat/Republican” or “Tory/Labour” or similar. Anyway, the point is, to truly understand the whys, it would appear that you cannot take these answers from the lore of your peers. To truly know, you’re gonna have to go.
You’re gonna have to soujourn, and you’re gonna have to do your best to carry some objectivity with you, otherwise, you may as well just save yourself the time and hassle and just stay home. I have sometimes wondered if this is how the plane we currently find ourselves in, first came into existence in the first place. Entities stepping outside of their bounds of light or dark, questing to know otherness, and here is where they wind up. It’s neither, it’s nor, it’s…whatever this is. Some call it a “middleground”, but I personally have a problem with that because it suggests that “purity” can only exist in light/dark or good/evil, and that this plane cannot have a purity of its own. Cannot have its own essence. Cannot have properties of both (or neither) which make it a thing unto itself. Wholly unto itself. It’s not that, and it’s not that, it is this.
When I think in those terms, this “3D” existence that we are said to occupy, in my mind anyway, breaks down entirely and retreats to its base forms of light/dark. Hell, maybe that’s how universes are destroyed. When the dimensions are as such that they can no longer support a thing where it is a thing unto itself, it collapses.
Standard stuff, right?
Welp, what about the opposite tho? A thing becomes such a distinct and well-defined thing unto itself, that the sources which originally created it are no longer required, and those source universes/dimensions collapse. I have to wonder if it is possible for the ether or perhaps nothingness to collapse. Nothing becomes a something that is not nothing. Would that be a singularity? Or maybe a type of singularity?
/shrug...I'm miles from where this section started.
Water is a thing.
Dirt is a thing.
Water + Dirt = a thing called mud.
Mud ain’t an actual thing tho. It’s more of a state of two other things when within a proximity to each other.
What I’m getting at here is how “physical laws” pertain to the abstract concepts known as good and evil or right and wrong or whatever. More than that tho, assuming that pure evil and pure good are tangible things which actually exist, why is there no “pure neither”. When thinking about “states”, there’s a transitional or transient nature to the idea, or at least a finite one. I’d think anything “pure” could be none of these things. It is fixed and yet permeable. Non-reactive. Non-finite. Scale or amount within a wider context is irrelevant. Even if a only single atom of a something exists within the entirety of the known universe, and if it is indeed “pure”, it is non-finite. I guess what I’m pondering here is our own definitions and applications of the term “pure”.
EX: There are those who say “Adolph Hitler was pure evil”. Well, if he was pure evil, why was he so finite? The fucker had been dead for 22 years before I got here, and my entire life, people cannot shut the fuck up about him. Moreover, does chalking up Hitler as “pure evil” give everyone else in history a free pass from evil? Comparatively? Ok yeah, Torquemada was bad, but not as bad as Hitler. This makes no sense as it lessens “the evil” of Torquemada.
What I’m really thinking about tho is how, if Adolph Hitler really was “pure evil”, why did it take so long to manifest in him? An opposite to Hitler is Jesus/Yeshua, and that fucker came out pure pure pure from the get go. Occurs to me that if someone is indeed capable of being “pure”, they’re gonna be pure start to finish whether good or evil. You cannot catch the the good bug or the evil bug for a period of time, ride it for a while, and expect to be “pure” good or evil. It’s more like you’re infected or have had some kind of mental break. Finite. Passing. A phase.
Look, I’m think that it’s impossible for us to know anything “pure” because we’ve developed some really fucked up ideas as to what pure is via our ideas on how purity is obtained. Mainly via absence of impurity, which if you ask me is totally fucking backwards. Like, water cannot be “99%” pure, but it can be “1% impure”. We just flip it on it’s head because it sounds better to focus on the pure bits instead of the impure ones. We basically lie because the truth is too painful.
That's....that's totally fucked up.
I guess such is life in a world that exist because of, and survives upon, percentages.
Ya know how they say “idle hands are the devil’s workshop”?
So, why is it then, that when some do-gooder who has nothing better to do gets a wild hair up their ass to go out in the world and shake things up, why then, are they operating under the assumption that they are doing good?
Oh, that’s right, they are “good” hence anything they do is also “good”.
Soooooo…all one really need do is obtain the title of “good”, and everything you do after that can be concealed under the title?
Fucking hell…you never have to be wrong, ever again…if when you are wrong.
HEY! That reminds me…you douchebags been participating in the Gloom Dog Book Club? If not, you should be. I’ve gotten so excited over the concept that I’ve been reading and reviewing books that aren’t even on the list. Gotta be honest tho, that trend started because there have been a few books I could not find, so I read and reviewed some random something just to have something to read and review. Will say this tho, this reading adventure that CStM is guiding us through has rekindled my love of reading. I went to the library the other day, got this month’s selection called “The Help”, and I checked out 5 other books too.
I’m telling you, I’m getting jazzed over this reading stuff. Anyway, if you were unaware of Gloom Dog, you’re aware of it now. Join us. Or not.
*I don’t know if that’s a thing or a state, Clicky… /stubs butt… Here, have you got Leggy’s tweet?*
We hope you’ve enjoyed reading Cade’s missive, Dear Reader. Just to let you know that CstM’s other half, Leggy, has opened submissions for the next Underdog Anthology. Short stories of all genres are welcome 😀
Have a Song… ❤
Happy Tuesday, Dear Reader 😀
The latest Underdog Anthology, volume XV, is now available for purchase…
*I saw you posted the Afterword, Clicky… /lights up and smokes…*
… And in plenty of time for Halloween…
… I’ll post my Halloween story ‘OK Charon!’ at the LoL on the day, but right now, we have a new missive from the Okie Devil in the great State of Text US. Sit back, take a load off and enjoy the wry musings of Cade Fon Apollyon…
If I can achieve and maintain an erection, but my penis is not currently under contract from any outside vendors, does that make me self-employed when/if I masturbate? If so, do I owe myself money?
I'm potentially running up quite a debt here.
Makes me wonder about the nature of ejaculation as it pertains to nocturnal emissions. Is there some dream girl floating around out in dreamland who owes me money? And what is it called when a day-sleeper has a wet dream? Is that a diurnal emission? Do the rates change from night to day?
I must know these things.
Ever operated a cash register? Ever handled cash? Most importantly, do you know how to make change? Lemme ask that again…do you, know how, to make, change.
Do you, know how to make change.
Do you know, how to make change.
Do you know how, to make change.
Do you know to make, change.
Change is all the rage, so if you don’t know how to make it, how can you ever change?
As far as that goes, if you don’t know how to make change, how can anyone else ever expect to make change? You are a knowitall, after all. That’s the rumor you’ve been spreading anyway.
There have been a great many teachers that I look back on with a great deal of love and admiration. However, I get the feeling that I never fully appreciated them back in the day. Don’t get me wrong, as bad as I hated school, there were absolutely a few classes that I really enjoyed taking, and there were some teachers who I really looked forward to seeing them and hearing from them each day. But there was a dynamic that existed at the time which I’m fairly certain never made me appreciate them as much at the time as I now think that I appreciated them then. Meaning, yes, I appreciate them very much now for the things that they taught me back then, but back then I was too green and stupid and inexperienced to appreciate them as much as I think I did.
What’s the purpose of exploring this idea in the here and now? Respect. More than that, acknowledgment in the now of my own disrespect back then. Owning my own shortcomings, and not making my relationship with teachers past out to being something that it was not. Don’t put my finger on the historical scale simply because I have the benefit of being able to do so in the here and now, for my own gain/benefit, and I can do so with little fear of exposure for my fraud. Own the times when I was an obnoxious, rebellious, ignorant and disruptive little shit who caused my teacher(s) a fuckton of grief that they likely did not deserve. I may have even hurt some. Randomly hit one of my teachers with a smart-ass verbal twist or jab during the course of their day, all so I could stand out in the moment amongst my peers. Make my fellow students laugh. I never thought of the weight that may have put on my teachers’ shoulders. Never took a single moment to think of my teacher(s) going home that night with a heavy heart because of something I’d done during the course of their day. Never contemplated what it might be like for them to sit alone in their apartment pondering what in the hell they did to deserve that, or try and relate to their partner or roommate or whatever that a student of theirs had humiliated them during the day.
I don’t know if I can say in the very moment of me writing this that “I am sorry”, nor express myself in such a way as to relate that yes, I am indeed very sorry for always attempting to be the class clown for my benefit at their expense. But I have accepted (or am trying to accept) that these things have happened, did happen, likely continue to happen, I can’t think of a single instance when there was malice in my heart, the fact that I had no malice in my heart really doesn’t matter, but mostly I’m aware that I owe you a great deal of gratitude for hanging in there and putting up with my bullshit during my own learning process(es). Hopefully, via these experiences, you learned something too, and I’m really hoping that whatever you may have learned isn’t just and only that I’m a dry and sarcastic smart-mouth who you don’t understand and comes off as a bit of an asshole sometimes.
Not my fault you're projecting.
What I was really thinking about in the previous section was the idea of me and my writing probably sometimes coming off as little more than a heckler, sitting in the cheap seats, and doing little more than taking cheap shots at those who are out there actually doing a something and making a difference or whatever.
This is not my intent.
I realize that doesn’t matter, but yeah, my intent is not to be a someone who sits in the wings and makes clever observations for notoriety/attention. We live in a world in which virtually every arena, the information flow is one-way. We are spoken to, and rarely, if ever, are we allowed to speak. Speeches, messages from the pulpit, rules, laws, practices, instructions, procedures, wishes, spells, charms, formulas, movies, newspapers, magazines, books, newsletters, television, radio, the web, you name it…virtually everything as it pertains to any dialogue of any kind in our society of our times, is all one-way, and the time and opportunity for questions, observations, suggestions and interactions of any kind are almost nil.
On those rare occasions where we mere mortals are allowed to speak, we’re usually so traumatized by the experience/opportunity that we fuck it up completely. We stumble, stammer, our voice shakes, or we’re so afraid to say what we really and actually want to say because we’re afraid we’re gonna look/feel like an idiot, so we throw a softball pitch, or don’t say what we want to say, or change the wording, or change the subject, or worse still, we say nothing at all…in every case, it’s a fucking nightmare on hell’s wheels. We never actually get the opportunity to speak enough, to actually learn how to do it. We never get to interact enough, to actually learn how to do it. This makes us very poor at expressing ourselves and expressing ourselves well, this lack of opportunity to speak also has the quality of seemingly encouraging us to express ourselves incorrectly or perhaps even inappropriately. We just flat out do not get enough “at bat” attempts in our lives to get better when it’s our turn at the plate and we’re facing down that major league pitcher. We never get to know, who we really are, via those experiences which reveal to us who we can be.
Me? Sure, I realize that there are likely times it may appear that I’m just some douchebag of less-than-average intelligence, taking pot-shots at “known” people from the relative safety of the shadows of anonymity where I reside, but the question is…
Q: Am I?
A: ¿Am I some douchebag taking cheap shots at targets of opportunity as they arise/present themselves?
I’ve got no answer(s) for you, and you probably wouldn’t like my answer even if I had one to give. I can only tell you that I am aware of this dynamic, and more than that, I try to be mindful of this dynamic. Beyond that, I guess you’re just gonna have to make up your own mind and speak your own piece. I’m not in the business of thinking for you nor am I in the business of speaking for you. Get involved. Speak for yourself. Mix it up a bit. Learn how to do it. Take the chance of sticking your own neck out, do so of your own accord, and let your own thoughts be known. That’s what I’m doing. I’m no fucking good at it, but yeah, that’s what I’m doing.
You wouldn’t have any inhibitions about drinking water that came from a huge lake would you? Or water that came from a large river, or some massive glacier or iceberg? Modern water considerations and concerns notwithstanding regarding water/impurities/pollutants/etc., what I’m getting at, is that if your water came from some large, easily-accessible and popular source, would you not drink this water specifically because it came from a large/easily-accessible/popular source. Mainstream, if you will. Just wondering why someone would feel guilty about consuming a something that came from the mainstream. Like say…oh I dunno, pop music for example. If it tastes good, and it satiates your thirst, what’s the problem? You afraid someone is gonna see your ears drinking that stuff? Feel like you’re alone in a bar and sucking on the cheap swill for a cheap thrill because it’s something you like, when suddenly all your friends burst in and catch you indulging in something that is not up to their standards?
Pure candy. Pure ear candy. Let’s us run that Willy Wonka-esque creation through some aftermarket filters and see how the video tastes after.
Sooooo much better with the music. In fact, that song is pretty fucking good without the video. Uptempo, good foot-tapper, anyone can sing along, it follows the “anthem song” template whilst adding enough of it’s own spice and flair to stand out in the pack, ain’t much if anything not to like about this new spin on an old dish. But then, you get added to the mix. You and you uptight and exclusive friends and all those rules and regulations and protocols and procedures governing what you can and cannot consume. Then, this song comes on…and you, like it.
What to do?! What to do?!
Maybe this song is a signal from the universe that it’s time for you and your pals to part company. For you to go your own way. I mean, that’s the point of exclusivity, right? Go your own way and be your own thing? Now, who the hell woulda thunk one could obtain exclusivity via drinking from the big pool.
When you see a tornado, that’s probably what you see.
When I see a tornado, this is what I see.
When one views the Earth/Terra from outside, we seem to have little to no difficulty rotating everything 90° in our heads. We look upon our sphere as if we’re looking out on the horizon rather than looking “down”. I guess maybe this is because our planet is nestled in the void, and something somewhere in our being lets us know that we are basically looking up, which really, is looking out. What I’m thinking about here that, from outside of our planet, we don’t seem to have as much difficulty with translation as it pertains to position as we do when we are on our planet. When one is “upright” on terra firma and/or somewhat upright, we seem to have difficulty with the notion that up is out, out is out, down is out, left is out, right is out. Everything is out. The only “in” that seems to exist is from, the outside. But even that doesn’t hold up for long once one goes deep enough. Keep going in, and eventually, in will once again become out. Some point exists in space or “a” space where everything that is, flips, and becomes everything that was. Gravity and attraction would have to play a part in this I would think, but there’s also something strange going on there with lines and curves. Hiding within that and those, appears to be some strange and unchangeable something. Some absolute. Some programmatic-ish something which exists in nature that says…
if is <> is
then is := was;
Maybe that’d be better stated as…
if is <> is AND was = is
is := was;
was := is;
Something weird about that tho since a something would almost need to happen, before it actually happens. If for no other reason than to ensure that both things happen simultaneously, which should ensure that the values are passed correctly with little to no impact on the system. Tachyons? Maybe also a delay in processing time, to hide the procedure from the observer/experiencer maybe? Maybe also a third heat via speed and distance in Neutrinos and some other goodies? Never can be too safe afterall and a cushion could certainly provide some insurance to ensure that the flip always and forever, occurs. Still, one would think that over time, that’d build up a helluva deficit in time. Maybe that’s how time is actually created tho. Build up a time deficit within time that can never be repaid, so to speak. Keep paying, and keep paying, expansion, expansion, etc., plenty is paid, but the original debt can never be repaid because the meter is still running, always has been, always will be.
Odd linear quality to that previous thought. Not so much an expansion as much as an expansion in a particular direction, at a particular time, from a particular perspective and/or certain perspectives. What I’m thinking about here is, imagine an hourglass turned on its side, and some mysterious force is pushing and pulling the enclosed sand from one end to the other. In our Universe, science and scientists always seem to see a balloon. I can see that, but what I mainly see is what I described above. A back and forth. Some is rushing away, some towards. Just kinda depends on where the observer is as to which direction matter and energy are running at that particular point in time. And I guess instead of a single hourglass, there could be many. I’d think there’s nothing prohibiting things moving in different directions at different times, nor that there’d a be any limits on the iterations, instances, nor any limits on the nesting/embedding. Cept maybe the aforementioned of course. That…thing…that causes “not” to become “is” whilst simultaneously, all things remain unchanged.
Hrmmmm…I get the feeling I’m being trolled here in some way.
Of all the things I can think of to do with a pressure cooker, banging on the fucking thing whilst it is under pressure is NOT, one of them. Still, I cannot tell if the advertiser is being totally irresponsible here for the sake of advertising, or if they are just trolling me in some way.
Both are a possibility I guess.
Oh, and you’ll need to watch the video below to know what I’m talking about.
Speaking of “not following the rules”, being irresponsible and/or being deceptive in making a buck, seems like more and more “the rules” are being flouted, and either A) no one is paying attention, B) no one knows that there are rules to be followed, or C) no one cares. Could be all that.
Quite sure that packaging is supposed to indicate where a something is actually manufactured and/or where a something comes from. It indicates that there is an audit trail, which indicates nothing shady is going on anywhere along the line, and that stuff you are shoving into your pie-hole is probably for the most part safe/not going to cause harm. Of course, loads of interests out there that don’t care if gold comes from illegal mines in South America or Philippines, or if diamonds come from some war-torn country in Africa, or even if your titanium is coming from illegal purchases made from Russia by your own government…but you can’t eat that stuff, or at least none of it can hurt you.
(so you think anyway)
But rolls? Yeah, if I go to Hawaii looking to contact the manufacturer of some rolls that had a bunch of metal shavings in them or made me sick, but the manufacturer ain’t actually in Hawaii? Well, what am I supposed to do now? Where did these phantom rolls come from? What recourse do I have? HELP!!!! I guess I have to turn to…my government.
Isn’t my government already supposed to be on top of shit like this? Prohibiting companies from operating in such a way as to be deceptive or misleading? I swear I have to do everything myself.
Knowing what we know, offering the vaccine “for free” isn’t much of an incentive. Hell, all kinds of products and services that offer that “free introductory service” or “free introductory time period” bullshit, and we KNOW what a scam that is.
It's a trap.
Get you in the door, and they can treat you however they want. Always trying to up-sell you, weird charges and fees, damn near impossible to cancel, impossible to get help, and if you bitch or show even the slightest inkling of dissatisfaction, they’ll cut you off. Can’t help but think this “vaccine for free” stuff isn’t any different.
Eventually it’ll be virtually impossible to talk about anything objectively without looking like an idiot.
Eventually it’ll be virtually impossible to talk about anything objectively without feeling like an idiot.
Eventually it’ll be virtually impossible to talk about anything objectively without being an idiot.
Eventually it’ll be virtually impossible to think about anything without looking like an idiot.
Eventually it’ll be virtually impossible to think about anything without feeling like an idiot.
Eventually it’ll be virtually impossible to think about anything without being an idiot.
Remember, your opinion…does…not…matter.
Helluva rabbit hole there.
One helluva weapon.
You want signs?
Here’s a sign for you.
That there is a fucking sign and a half.
Let’s explore some psychology on the topic of being accused of something you did not do, defending oneself, and let’s use one of history’s most famous bad guys, Al Capone. Al Capone was accused of not paying his taxes. If Al were to say “I didn’t do it”, does that actually constitute an affirmation/admission of guilt? Al is actually accused of not doing something, as such, saying “I didn’t do it” actually means “yeah I did it”. Nevermind that Al was only being accused of income tax evasion because the attempts to convict him and send him to prison on other charges all failed. You can’t get someone on the charges you want to get them on, so you get them on those charges in a roundabout way, by getting them different charges.
More than that, sounds just flat out wrong. Ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, the reason you cannot get this someone on the charges you want to get them on is because they are…innocent of those charges? Lemme splain where I’m going with this. There are many groups that have vetting processes. Sometimes these vetting processes are better defined by calling them “initiations”. It is with that in mind that we should point out that these vetting/initiation processes are usually done “in-house”, but we should also note that sometimes, people can take it upon themselves to engage in these processes. “Prove themselves”, if you will, and do so without knowledge, consent, approval, nor at the behest/prompting of the group typically responsible for these processes. Some lone wolf wants in the club, this lone wolf researches/learns what they think the vetting processes to be, then they start doing these things of their own accord in the hopes of getting noticed and eventually being welcomed in to whatever circle they desire to join/be a part of.
To make this a little more relatable, maybe think of some person seeing a bunch of “punk rockers” on the street, this person decides they too want to be a punk rocker, goes out and buys a bunch of “punk rock” clothes, gets a “punk rocker” haircut, maybe pierces their cheek, gets a tattoo or two, then proceeds to loiter in the same areas/venues that punk rockers do. In our case however, we’re thinking more about gangsters circa 1930’s Chicago and/or New York, and maybe that there were “wannabes” out there who maybe started doing some gangster shit in order to get a reputation and hopefully get noticed by the mob. Maybe even get asked to join, because like, you’ve already proved yourself for this very reason, right?
With that in mind, let us take this in a bit of a different direction since “the mob” or even “gangsters” is a bit ambiguous. There are, after all, usually many more than just one faction, and these various factions within “the mob” are more likely to be at odds rather than the homogeneous/homologous something it is typically made out to be by outsiders. That’s right, if our lone wolf gets noticed by “the mob”, it is likely that our wolf is on many different radars, and no telling how these various interests may decide to handle this situation. Hell, they’ve basically got a rogue element that they can play six ways from Sunday, do so to their own advantage, having little to no culpability themselves, and maybe even take out their competition in the process. See where I’m going with this yet?
Yes? No? Maybe?
I don’t either. Just out for a drive for the sake of driving.
The St. Valentine’s Day Murders have always been spun as a clear-cut case of agents acting according to the will of/on the instructions of one Alphonse Capone whilst Al himself sat it out in Florida. However, what if some rival faction actually performed this operation for the specific purpose of getting Al pinned with the crime. Al was Public Enemy #1, everyone wants his head, so, why not give one of your own enemies the knife to do it with? Hell, the US Government itself could probably rationalize and justify killing all those people just to get to Capone. Not only are you getting rid of the gangsters to be murdered, you get Capone in the process…
it's win all around.
In thinking of pursuing Capone on things that are basically unrelated to the real reasons you are persecuting this someone, occurs to me that this is a long, dark train that has no end. Creates questions instead of answering them. It’d be like me yelling at my girlfriend for not fixing dinner, when I’m actually pissed at her because she wrecked the car and I couldn’t give a fuck if she fixed dinner or not. They may have been guilty of both, but the lack of clarity and “solving” one problem via another just seems wrong to me. Convenient for me in the moment perhaps, but it opens a door that may be difficult or maybe even impossible to close.
Don’t ask me why initiations have been on my mind. They have tho. And even tho it’s been a coupla weeks since that above was written, something damn weird just appeared on my radar…
All this talk of jab, the jab and jabbing are bad enough, but what was really strange is that it made me think of a tweet I’d seen only last night…
And of course there was this just a coupla days ago…
Not sure what to make of all of it other than 1) things appear to be getting back to normal, and 2) I guess that security bridge in Operation Bridger is still under construction or something.
The word “bridger” appears to have some interesting meanings.
“One who bridges, or connects two previously separate things.”
“U.S. fur trader and mountain man, noted for his tall tales.”
That lockdown interlude gave the world but such a brief taste of happiness, hopefulness and harmony. Now that’s ending, it’s “game on!” I guess.
As you were, citizens.
Oh, and it appears that David Amess dude has died 😦
Sorry you died/got killed dude. Hopefully you and your party haven’t left too big of a mess in your wake.
Was the final sentence in that previous paragraph totally out of line?
Welp, hopefully nobody turns the dude’s coffin over and creates a mess of Amess at his wake. Assuming he has a wake. The dude sounds like he was more or less upright and righteous, or at least tried to be, and we all prolly know how hella hard that is to do in this wicked old world. Prolly even more difficult to do in Old Blighty, land of sin, evil and corruption.
But what I was thinking about is I get the feeling that Conservatives and Libertarians alike are quite furious at Conservatives currently. I mean sure, all this SARS-CoV2/COVID-19 stuff and some other weird shit has gotten Brexit almost completely off the radar, but no one in the UK (at least on the Conservative side) seems to be very happy about how Conservatives have been handling themselves regarding CO\ /ID. I guess at its heart, instead of opposing this restrictive and quasi-dystopian legislation, the Conservatives appear to be whole-hog for it. Track and Trace, firing the hero essential workers of the NHS who refuse to get the COVID vaccine even tho they somehow survived the entirety of the initial pandemic, social distancing and mask wearing requirements not being eased and lockdowns that last forever, difficult if not impossible to travel, all kinds of crazy shit that really doesn’t make sense from a “conservative perspective” I guess. But, they are a political party, and every political party is gonna have a mantra of “toe the line, or else”, so maybe they’re just showing their true colors? I mean, I don’t live there, so I have to wonder how “conservative” conservatives really are in the UK.
Maybe there’s some other game afoot here. Maybe the conservatives are playing the long game, and too many people are too focused on the short game(s). I know here in the US, the best way to get something banished forever, is to legalize it. Once a something is actually on the books and in the system, just about anything can be done with it. Assuming the game plan of the Conservatives is indeed to get the laws on the books via their own methods and means so they can better drive them from there, that is. Sounds risky for sure, and a helluva lotta people are gonna pay some hefty short-term prices that may really fuck them up long-term. And it’s not like the Conservatives can come right out and say “hey, we’re doing this for the sole purpose of fucking it up completely and making sure no one can do this very easily in the future”, it’s all gotta be done on the down low and hush hush. The down side to playing such a dangerous game is them getting voted out of office, the Conservatives don’t get to see it through, and all those juicy control laws are on the books unaltered and unchallenged, and just waiting for the right wrong person and/or people to come along and get their filthy mitts on them.
The other day some random dude followed me on Twitter. As per usual, I didn’t pay them much mind for a span to see if they’d unfollow me if I didn’t immediately follow them back. Lotta folks on Twitter appear to do that. Follow account for the express purpose of obtaining a follow back.
Trolling, for followers.
Anyway, as per usual, I went and looked at the dude’s Twitter feed and started the brief vetting process that I typically do, then followed the dude back. I then get what I assume is an automated DM to me encouraging me to go listen to his music and “help spread the word”, I guess about his music, and him and his enterprise or whatever. No way this automated process or bot or whatever could know this, but I’d already listened to the song they sent me in the DM, and my first inkling was to reply back and solicit them to, in return, purchase a copy of the latest Underdog Anthology and maybe go read me and my friends’ blogs.
Ask a bot or automated process, to buy a book. I guess maybe I could query it as to possibly buying/reading the Kindle version? Anyway, not ragging on the guy really as much as just pointing out that, I, tend to plug people’s shit because I choose to of my own accord. If I find something interesting, I share it because there are others out there who might dig it whether it be music or movies or art or information or whatever. Like I said, I’d already listened to that song and was already gonna plug it even tho it’s not really my kind of music if for no other reason that it’s not bad and because I know that there might be someone else out there who’d like it a lot. I’d be there Bridger in this case: bringing people together. And also, there’s a bit in the video that says “MAKE IT ALL ABOUT YOU” which, was syncy as hell because I’d just written something for my own blog where…I make a section that is not about me, all about me. And now that I’ve done the same by making this entire section about me, me and me, here’s the fucking song. Enjoy.
(it's actually pretty good)
So, there you have it, Dear Reader. Thank you for your time and attention, and… Have a Song…
*Whoa, Clicky, this is a missive post knot of CLICK5 post… /lights up and smokes…You already posted that on Bastille Day…*
*Oh dear… /plumes smokes… I guess storms are racist now…*
*Those kicks and blows raining down definitely seem racist to me…*
Hello there, Dear Reader. We are most fortunate peeps, in that Cade Fon Apollyon has sent through a second missive this week. I, for one, am very happy about that indeed…
*Oh, do behave. You can write a post tomorrow, Clicky…*
¿Yawl Redi Fo Dis?
show yoo wiz
— ó¿ó —
∞ = -1 + 0 + 1 = ∞
∞ = 1 + 0 + -1 = ∞
cull lime eight
∞ = 0 + -1 + 1 = ∞
∞ = 1 + -1 + 0 = ∞
∞ = -1 + 0 + 1 = ∞
— ó¿ó —
peace sez und purts
Was directed towards a comment over at the Merovee blog the other day, but I didn’t respond to it. The comment appeared to be regarding something I wrote in the previous whatever, but it didn’t appear to be actually directed at me, so yeah, I didn’t respond.
Did give it some thought tho.
Next day, went back, there were some followup comments, and have thought about those too, but I’ve not been back since. Virtually everything that I’ve encountered over the past 14 years has been troubling in one way or another. Hence, it’s no surprise to me that something I say/write might be troubling to someone else who reads what I’ve written. Everything I know has been called into question. Everything that I believed in has been challenged. And what was the absolute worst about all of this, is that it all seemed to materialize out of thin air. I wasn’t reading a bunch of crazy shit that “triggered” me, I wasn’t even reading “normal” shit that triggered me. Some really weird shit started to happen, it seemed to happen of its own accord or volition, and I chose to blunder around completely in the dark, unaided, and seeking no outside assistance for what turned out to be almost 5 years.
When I finally did start to dip my toe into the water(s), it would be another 3 years of not being too committal about it before I finally said “aight, that’s it, come hell or high water…time for me to dive in, and do so in pure and honest Cade style”.
Not sure if I’m actually trying to make a point here other than maybe to say that there is no goal line. There are milestones, but there is no milestone. There are clocks, but there is no clock. There are respites, but there is no respite. There are answers, but there is no answer. All of these things will be true until you personally find out otherwise. And if you feel that you have found out otherwise, and decide to share your findings and spread your good news?
You’ve effectively walked out onto the lawn of that perfect destination you’ve finally reached after all of that searching, dropped your pants, and taken a big shit right in the middle of it. Assuming you were wearing pants. We’re talking about Shambala/Shangri-La after all. Or Eden. Or Heaven. Or whatever. Nudity is usually associated with those kinds of locations and the freedom(s) they provide, and pants may not be requisite.
You might be able to skip a step.
Sharing and describing your “awakening” or “enlightenment” or whatthefuckever is the equivalent of telling all your female friends about the someone you shagged last night and how great the sex was. Or if you are male, bragging to all your buddies about the someone you banged last night and how awesome you were. Yes, your friends may be interested in your tales of tail, but it’s going to be kinda superficial.
They weren’t actually there, they didn’t actually experience exactly what you experienced, so at best they can only imagine in trying to relate. Maybe they themselves have some comparative types of thoughts based upon their own experiences, but these are likely to be just imaginings that are questioning in nature and perhaps even confusing thoughts. These thoughts may even be so confusing that they decide that in order to fully understand this life-changing experience you just had, they themselves need to bang your new fuck buddy. Or even, they may think you’re full of shit because they already have had sex with your new fuck buddy and it was a terrible experience. And what’s worse, the next time you have sex with this person, the sex may not compare to that first experience, but your friends are still going want to know all the details.
How are you supposed to explain to them that…yeesh…the sex wasn’t that great this time, and certainly not as good as that one time. You may be put into a position where you feel compelled to fudge the facts a bit. Maybe even straight up lie. There are afterall appearances to maintain. You placed yourself up on that throne, and you may just decide that you will do anything and everything to stay there. And that’s the problem with thrones. They are designed to be unchanging and immovable, but the chair itself really doesn’t give a fuck who is sitting in it, it doesn’t care the means, modes or methods it took for one to become stationed upon it, and it’s likely to accommodate any old ass.
Anyway, the whole nature of relating “spiritual” experiences is very gossipy. Very likely to stir up all kinds of emotions in others even if you and your tales and the way you relate them are Zen as fuck. Prolly why you hear so many in “the spiritual community” rambling on endlessly about the ego. Eventually, all that energy you’ve expended in you relating your stories is going to cause your ego to want a food pellet. It’s gonna be hitting that feeder bar faster than Buddy Rich banging on his drums during a drum solo, and if it doesn’t get some kind of reward, it may just get downright savage in meeting what it perceives as its own needs.
But, that’s a path for you to walk. No fucking way I’m willingly wandering into the mire of trying to instruct you as to how to keep a lid on your own ego. Nor will I even suggest that you should keep a lid on it. I only know that others bang on endlessly about the ego, and you will certainly experience your own ego toying with you as you walk your path.
It's your fucking ego, you figure it out.
None of this is meant to suggest that I personally have reached Enlightenment or attained Samadhi or that I have Ascended or reached Ascension or become an Ascended Master or whatever nomenclature you wanna tack onto these experiences that everyone and their dog has been blabbing about and scrambling for. I have no idea if I’m on the path to Ascension, or even if I’m on a path to Ascension. However I can safely say that some weird shit has most certainly transpired in my life, and both my trying to talk about it, and in my listening to others try and talk their own experiences…fucking lolz…
what a bunch of absolute losers.
It’s most of the time like listening to a 1 year old child from the year 52021 BC try and describe the inner workings of a really fine and complex pocket watch that they somehow miraculously know of and absolutely understand, but they simply do not yet possess the vocabulary to describe it. And even when that child eventually does have the vocabulary to describe this pocket watch, its function(s) and its meaning(s), it is highly unlikely those around them possess the vocabulary to understand it. Sounds haughty as fuck, yeah? You somehow came into possession of some miraculous something, you’ve finally reached the point where you finally can describe this miraculous something…and you’re surrounded by a bunch of mouth-breathing dolts who just flat don’t understand you nor what you’re blathering about. You’re special. So very special. You’re fuckin’ special. You’re a creep. You’re a weirdo. What the hell are you doin’ here? You don’t belong here.
(creds to Radiohead for that last bit)
Let’s face it…a lot of this crap about “Fake News” is just propaganda created by “mainstream media” or anyone involved with it in order to save their own industry and/or their own asses. The “legitimate press” has their own guild, and they figure that if you want to play in the information game, you have to join their guild and pay them homage. Hence, all these rogues creating their own news streams appear to have so terrified news publishers, that the big players have began to push back. Label everything that is not them or not from them as “Fake News”. And of course, they have a lot of help from public figures of all kinds, because they too are in this guild, even if unofficially. I guess at its core, they don’t like the idea that information is floating around out in public without someone having paid for that information.
And more specifically, payed them.
Information proliferation is how they make their money, and I’d imagine it drives “the press” absolutely bonkers that information is being given away for free. I’d imagine that, to them, it’s like watching someone dig an oil well or a gold mine, “strike it rich”, then give everything the well or mine produces away for nothing. They can only lament how much cash they would have made were those resources in their hands/under their control.
The other thing that strikes me is that they can no longer control what information is released, when, nor can they control the editorial processes that spin a certain something in the direction they want it to go. They can no longer get the jump on demonizing someone or something. They can no longer get the jump on deifying someone or something. They can no longer plant seeds of doubt. They can no longer hype the hell out of nothingburgers. They can no longer just make shit up when it is in their interest(s) to do so. They can no longer use their position to protect their friends, their own interests or anyone else they are in bed with. They can no longer use their position to smite their enemies. All that power and promise they once had is much diminished, if not gone forever. They no longer hold the reins of The Four Horsemen of The Apocalypse, and now those reins are in the hands of rank amateurs. Or worse, the riders themselves now have control of their own mounts. The news and information guilds are fallen, and their unions will fall with them.
With a mighty voice he shouted: “‘Fallen! Fallen is Babylon the Great!’ She has become a dwelling for demons and a haunt for every impure spirit, a haunt for every unclean bird, a haunt for every unclean and detestable animal. For all the nations have drunk the maddening wine of her adulteries. The kings of the earth committed adultery with her, and the merchants of the earth grew rich from her excessive luxuries.”
Would imagine that many of these big publishers are still kicking themselves for not jumping on the e-bandwagon(s) sooner. Had they done so, they would have had a much better jump on protecting themselves and their interests from these “free press” ideas that they despise so much.
This type of stuff appears to be happening in virtually every industry and in every infrastructure too. Weird shit transpiring in the periphery that gives an establishment credibility. Hell, for the past 5/6 years, politicians everywhere have been acting weird as fuck, and much of it appears to be because these seemingly tiny groups and/or obscure ideas are irritating the living fuck out of people within government. It’s not like these tiny groups are significant or anything, so why are they being given so much attention?
Governments typically couldn’t give two shits about “the negligible” because their numbers are on the wrong side of the decimal point. Perhaps it’s that large portions of the masses have for the most part so abandoned politicians and politics, that the negligible and insignificant have suddenly become important. But even if that is so, it doesn’t really jibe with this latest move to once again move the negligible into the “insignificant” category with all these SARS-CoV2/nCoV-2019 vaccines and the vaccination process(es). It doesn’t matter if a few people get all fucked up from a vaccine nor even if they die. What matters, is “the many”.
(and “the much”...there are many profits to think about here)
Anyway, there are many institutions who appear to be engaging themselves via some really obscure means. Including memes. Turns out that a little self-deprecation can go a long way in winning hearts and minds. Shows you’re human and not just some dead stack of papers. Look around you. See if you’re seeing what I’m seeing. Hell, could just be that I’m seeing things.
Hey, I can relate. No one wants to take the time to legitimately join the guild, only to have your position much diminished because average plebs are doing your job for you. Them becoming self-sufficient. You, are supposed to be determining what is adequate/inadequate, not them. You, have the degree. You, have the knowledge. That knowledge is yours. That power is yours. Who the fuck do these people think they are anyway?
What’s most sad about the power-plays is that it diminishes the efforts of those who are actually within the infrastructures and trying to utilize them as best they can whilst maintaining some degree or moral integrity. And by that, I simply mean that they are not trying to leverage the institution(s) for their own personal benefit in a way or ways that is detrimental to the institution(s). They went to school, they studied hard, then they actually got into the system and found out that it was nothing like they were told. They likely have seen shit that would make one’s hair stand on end, but they likely have also seen that there are many within their field who are chugging along and not participating in the shenanigans. Hence, they sally forth figuring that others can keep their integrity in this shit-show, perhaps they themselves can as well.
So, they do just that.
Whether they realize it or not, they too become beacons within a dark and roiling sea, helping even more lone ships to avoid the rocks. But, even tho there are good people in the systems, there are those who are trying to destroy these systems who simply don’t give a shit if there are good people working hard to make a difference in them or not. The infrastructures themselves and all they represent are the enemies, and much like what happened on September 11th, anyone within them is going to perish. Jesus Christ, Abraham, Muhammad, Buddha and every other big wig throughout history could have been meeting in those buildings that day to discuss how to finally bring peace and prosperity to the entire planet, and it would have not made one bit of difference to whomever orchestrated that shit.
Those buildings were coming down.
Kinda weird to think of an institution of being representative of only one thing. I can go to Walmart one day and have an encounter with what appears to be the crankiest and most bitter employee in the entire history of commerce, and the next day, I encounter another employee who is friendly and helpful to the extreme.
Q: Are both of these individuals somehow representative of the Walmart Corporation?
Or is it more likely that they are representative of what they themselves are doing with the Walmart Corporation’s infrastructure at those particular points in time. Walmart has afforded these individuals with some power, and they are either using that power well, or not. It’s the same shit on the global stage and I admit that I am sometimes floored by the ironies of people utilizing the very tools created by an certain infrastructure in order to destroy that same infrastructure.
“We hate you, and we hate everything about you, but, we'll utilize your toys and play in your game just the same.”
Being that I am an American, I am likely to be biased a bit as it pertains to certain events. You likely think that I am thinking filthy terrorists hijack Western technology planes they can barely operate, and use them to destroy Western shit. But I’m not. What is really floating around in the back of my mind as I write this is a documentary that I recently watched called…FIN. I watched that movie, and I puzzled and puzzled about what was going on in my own mind whilst watching the movie. Mainly because the movie FIN is damn near an exact echo of the movie Sharkwater.
The movie FIN is not bad, nor is the movie a ripoff of Sharkwater, it just seemed so much like an almost mirror image of the movie Sharkwater that I had trouble figuring out what exactly I was looking at. Made a few initial thoughts, but after sleeping on it, I think that if anything, the movie FIN more stirred up the same old thoughts I had about hypocrisy that Sharkwater did. Here, you have two different interests fighting over the control of a resource…sharks. One wants to kill them, the other wants to “save” them. Ultimately, the control over sharks is actually a fight for control of the oceans themselves. This means that the fight for control of the oceans is also a fight for control of everything in oceans, everything above oceans, everything around oceans, and everything below oceans.
This is MINE! No, it's MINE! This is MINE! No, it's MINE! Etc., Etc.
And now that we have that out of the way, we can now focus on some of the minutiae of the hypocrisies of this fight. In order for Rob Stewart to make his film, he is going to have to utilize astronomical amounts of material that likely had its origins in the ocean. Maybe even came from harvesting sharks. I remember thinking exactly this upon my first viewing of Sharkwater years ago. The ironies of using the ocean(s) and things taken from it/them, as vehicles to “save” the ocean(s). FIN does this exact same thing, although the ironies and hypocrisies are perhaps a tad more glaring in FIN.
Here you have a guy who is more or less in the mainstream movie making industry, relies heavily upon the cosmetics and/or chemical industry to ply their trade, and yet here they are damning the shark trade for providing the very materials needed for the manufacture of cosmetics. Excuse me…they are damning “the illegal shark trade”. Meaning, they are damning those who are not part of the guild and/or not operating according to its charter. We humans seem to so want and desire to get it right, but we’re so nested in doing it wrong and still coming out on top, that all we can do is dream and aspire to doing it right.
Ever notice what happens in nature when something sends out a distress call? It usually ain’t pretty.
Just about everyone in the whole fucking jungle shows up…EXCEPT…for anyone who might actually can help you. Oh sure, they can help put you out of your misery, but that’s about it. That’s the only remedy on the agenda. Something cried out for help, and they wound up on the menu instead of getting the help they wanted. Gotta wonder if this is one of nature’s ways of reducing suffering. You cry for help, and SOMETHING is likely gonna show up. Might be help, more likely to be harm, but you will be seen to.
Any possibility, that a lesson, might actually devour you? That in order for you to advance, the perception may be that you are actually going backwards? Maybe even that you are gaining nothing, and losing everything? Well, if you’ve not thought of it before, maybe you can think about it now. Food for thought.
Medicine is all about taking some thing’s or someone else’s power. That’s actually where this “missive” started. Thinking about the idea of medicine being a power which someone else possesses, that you can take away. Or maybe even a something you can receive if it is given.
But as you can likely tell, some time has passed and I decided to interject some of “the older stuff” and some of “the newer stuff” at the top of the writing instead of the bottom. Or, perhaps you did not notice that. Perhaps you read top to bottom and think that it is chronological. Welp, most of the time that is true, but not always, and not in this case. Sometimes I sit down and write some shiz, but when I come back to add to it, it seems more pertinent to put the new shiz at the top. Or maybe even inject it somewhere in the middle. Not that I spend a lot of time editing this stuff, because I don’t…
that's Roob's job.
These thing are written for her, and me editing them diminishes the point of this little enterprise. I write, she edits. It could be argued that the more difficult I make things for her, the more of her medicine or power I am taking. But what I was really thinking about was this scene in the movie Dances With Wolves when the locals are having this sit down discussing the stranger, and the character Kicking Bird pipes up about this loner at the fort…
“…when I see one white man alone and without fear in our country, I do not think he is lost. I think he may have medicine.”
OK, so, say that he does indeed “have medicine”…now what? Someone has some something, are your intentions to borrow some? Get them to teach you how to make it? Steal it from them? Take them in and just bask in it? I guess when we establish that someone has a something we desire, only time will tell what actions we take and why we take them.
I wrote that several days ago, but cannot recall exactly where I was going with it.
Musta been going somewhere with it, but the thought is gone.
The idea that a more or less typical response is actually tied to an atypical feeling.
Sympathy generates anger.
Fear generates happiness.
Joy generates revulsion.
Why are they supposedly so straightforward and clear-cut.
Surely these things can sometimes mix and match.
Perhaps even some times a seemingly confused something is actually the proper response.
Perhaps I'm just confused.
In any case, I forgot what I was originally gonna write.
Guess this will just have to do.
*Fun fact: there used to be nightclubs in Southend at different times called ‘Rain’ and ‘Storm’… /stubs butt… There’s only one nightclub left now though, called Mojo…*
*That is a fucking big syringe, Clicky, sucking out life force…*
Have a great we kenned, Dear Reader… And have a Song…
Hello there, Dear Reader, and happy new year 😀
No doubt, we’ve had a belter of a start to 2021, what with rampant mutant Covid, stricter lockdowns and a spot of argy-barginess in the capital of the old ex-Blighty colony, across The Pond…
*Clicky, 24 hours is a fucking long time in politics these days… /lights up and smokes…*
… However, we can take a moment to harken back to the halcyon days of 2020 with a missive from the Okie Devil of Text US, which was started before Christmas, but only landed on the LoL doormat yesterday…
*So do I, Clicky, so do I…*
Gluten schlaben. Mime namen ist Dr. Spliven DuSchpagh, ant eive ville best skriptenscribbling for Hare Cade todazengrabben. Cade dus unt spracken sea Germaniac. Zoe, I spracken zoe he noe aint gotta spracken the Dirtch, capisce?
GOTCHA! Heh heh heh…just kidding…it’s me…CADE! There is no Dr. Spliven DuSchpagh. Just me being a racist bastard in speaking English with a German accent…in text. Wait…is “German” a race? Or are Germans just more of the same white fuckers who just so happen to speak their own language.
Q: Are Germans a race.
Answers...we need them.
I need to know if I am an anti-Germite.
^Deadmau5 – Soma [played by Deadmau5]^
“Lick” is right in the big middle of “complicated”.
If you never noticed that before, you have now.
^Deadmau5 – Sometimes Things Get Whatever (MosDam remix) HQ^
Fuck love. You fuckers can’t even “like” someone, let alone love them, so give the “love will save the world” bullshit a rest, k? Get back to me when you figure out how to unconditionally like someone, or maybe even understand someone…then maybe we can explore the love angle(s). Until then, yeah, STFU with this love bullshit.
^Benny Benassi – Love Is Gonna Save Us HQ^
That which guides you.
Lets think about it.
That, which guides you, in this life.
Can a certain brand of aftershave or a certain perfume guide your life?
Yeah, I don’t think a certain brand of aftershave or a certain perfume can guide your life either. But just for shits and giggles, let’s us further explore the topic since it would appear that neither of us have anything better to do.
Q: If you don’t smell a certain way, how does this affect your attitude?
A: ? … !!!
More than that, how can certain unpleasant or even pleasant smells alter your schedule. You were gonna catch the 6:20 showing of a movie, but now you gotta take a shower and get freshened up, and the next showing isn’t until 8:40. You need to be in bed by 10:00, but now it’s possible you won’t be in bed until just before midnight. You gotta be up at 6:00am, so that short night’s sleep is gonna effect your whole day tomorrow. All this because of…a smell?
Q: Who says I need to smell a certain way?
Let’s look deeper.
^Boris Brejcha – Sometimes Things Get Complicated^
According to this article, these are the 10 largest cosmetic companies in the world.
Just to be thorough, let’s us check and see if there is a top list, and see if there are any big and/or recognizable names that might be missing from that first list.
Fuck that Top 10 nonsense, let's go Top 50!
Jesus Christ…they only give the top 10. I got to use them as a go-between in order to get to the actual list?
Lotta differences between that first list and the second list. Anyway, here’s why I’m primarily interested in various cosmetics companies of the world.
AH! But hold the phone here…
And of course, there are other opinions to be had…
But after seeing that bit on this grooming gang report, I got to thinking…wait a sec here…
Q: Aren’t cosmetic companies capable of being qualified as “grooming gangs”?
Being understood is not as easy as it sounds.
^Deadmau5 – Soma (For Lack Of A Better Name) (Mark Walter Remix)^
Let’s us just see how rabbit holes may not necessarily be fallen into, but rather…dug with our own hands.
Now…the question is, how do I, describe to you, how I wound up at 12:24 in the morning reading about a man who died in North Carolina back in May of 2020. Further, how do I explain to you why I kept going, step after step, until there were so many “syncy” things that I had to stop digging.
A: I just do.
I strap in, commit myself to telling the tale, and then I take the time tell it.
I don’t whale it.
I don’t flail it.
I don’t sell it.
I tell it.
^Paranormal investigations the fun, danger and stories with Sam Hundley Hauntings.^
You know that party you were invited to? Yeah, the one where you knew absolutely no one who was gonna be at this party? Maybe you kinda sorta knew the person who invited you, but everyone else…nah, you didn’t know a single…fucking…soul. You wrestled and wrangled as to whether you should go or not. What should I wear? Who are these people? What are they like? Do we have anything at all in common? What should I be prepared to talk about? Should I contact the person who invited me and ask if I can drag someone along with me so I don’t feel so isolated and alone? Do I really want to put one of my friends through this same potentially awful experience? Why in the hell am I even doing this?!?!?!??
You had an experience that maybe you didn’t fully understand. Oh sure, at the time, it made perfect sense. Over time tho, those naysayers and disbelievers, and especially those who have not had a similar experience are gonna drag you down. Some of the very people who SHOULD believe you are gonna be skeptical, and they may even be doing so for their own selfish or maybe even nefarious means because they don’t want anyone eclipsing them. You may even start to wonder to yourself if this experience ever even happened, because no one seems to believe you, and as such, you wanna experience it again. You may even wanna drag someone along with you so that you can go “SEE! SEE!!! I TOLD YOU SO!!!” I get it. I really do get it.
Get it? 😉
^Chris Brown & Benny Benassi – Beautiful People^
As I explained in my replies, I see the “DO IT AGAIN!!!” or “DO IT AGAIN, AND I”LL BELIEVE!” modalities of thinking as being dangerous. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen mention of someone wanting to have a subsequent experience, and in fact, it’s quite a common thing in the paranormal realms. Big Foot hunters, Ghost Hunters, Nessie watchers, UFO chasers, you name it. And if you wanna relate these a little better, you could even put people like Robert Koch and Louis Pasteur to Marie Curie, Max Plank and Peter Higgs in similar categories because they too were chasing phantoms. Hell, the Apostle Paul, Daniel, Samuel,Ursula Kemp, Hermes Trismegistus, Nostradamus, Carl Jung, Dr. Ruth Westheimer…all of them chasing phantoms of one sort or another. Common themes there…belief. Repeatable stuff. Gotta have that subsequent something in order to seal the deal.
Just what we need in 2020…an inability to replicate a more or less concrete and solid something.
^Afrojack ft Eva Simons – ‘Take Over Control’ (Extended Mix)^
Anyone else notice that Frozone rode a white horse?
Lemme back up.
First, you will have needed to have seen the movie The Incredibles and/or be familiar with the movie and its characters. In this movie, there is a character named Frozone (Lucius Best), and the character is voiced by Samuel L. Jackson. This morning I got to thinking about “the big fucking deal with skin color”, and it got me to thinking about both representation and symbolism. Started off by me thinking about this little “check mark” that one can obtain on Twitter. “Verified” I think it is called, many people seem to want this little check mark quite badly, but it appears to me that this Twitter Verified nonsense mainly related to influencers, celebrities, famous business folk, and government/official types. The influencers seem to be the lot that are most grasping for this verified status because I guess it will help them turn the ether into gold for them personally.
^Odyssey – Going Back To My Roots^
As I was thinking about this verified nonsense, and people scrambling to receive a mark so that they can be part of the club, a line from the movie The Incredibles popped into my head…
“And when everyone’s super…no one will be.”
If everyone is “verified”, no one will be. What popped into my head next was, “Wait, was Frozone the only person of a non-white color in that film?” Then it occurred to me…
FROZONE…RODE…A WHITE HORSE
Ice. Frozone rode ice. Ice is white.
Sure there are exceptions in the real world, but in the film, pretty sure that Frozone’s ice bridges that he slid around on were all white. Also…Frozone? Fro…Zone? How the fuck did Disney get away with naming a “black” character a name that starts with…
Was it a nod to “Fro Power” maybe? Anyway, I’m getting off track.
Q: Is a “black” entity’s power diminished by riding a white horse?
Maybe there’s no effect at all. Or maybe I’m just being naive?
^Deadmau5 + Kaskade – Move For Me [Extended Mix] (1080p) || HD^
Hold the pickles…hold the lettuce.
Special orders…don’t upset us.
All we ask is that you let us serve it your way.
Have it yourrrrrr way.
Have it your way
Have it yourrrrr way…at Burger King.
You may not be old enough to remember that commercial/jingle. But I have a question for you…
Q: Is the Burger King Corporation liable for damages to me because I have that stupid thing stuck in my head, its been in there for most of my life, and there is no fucking way to get it out?
Seriously…I was not at the age of consent when Burger King started pumping that shit into my head. Was just blissfully unaware. Me being new to the planet and all, I was under the impression that advertising was just part of the world and the people behind all this stuff were good people with good intentions simply letting me know that they had a burger joint and would sell me a burger if I was hungry. I had no idea that they were really trying to worm their way into my head in such a way that they’d be a permanent fixture in my psyche forever and ever. What do I get out of this long term agreement that I did not knowingly nor willingly participate in? Worse still, I can’t talk about it without further infecting others with the same goddamn disease/ailment.
What a weird world, eh?
^Tiësto feat. Tegan and Sara – Feel It In My Bones^
HI! It’s now December 27th. I started this missive on December 14 , but there’s been so much going on that I haven’t had a chance to write any more.
That’s a lie…I ain’t been doing a goddamn thing.
^Satisfaction – Benny Benassi – Isaak Extended Remix^
In a bid for world domination, Nation A attacks Nation B.
Later, Nation A claims that it only attacked Nation B, because Nation B actually attacked Nation A first. Or maybe Nation B was threatening Nation A in such a way as to cause Nation A to defend itself. In essence, Nation A was merely defending itself.
Ever heard this bullshit before?
Yeah? No? What about the “world domination” bit? Ever heard of a group or nation wanting to dominate the world?
I guess one of the better questions you might ask yourself is how you are going to react/respond to a group/nation storming into your hood and taking over. It is going to happen. Might also wanna ask yourself how you wanna deal with this certainty. Might wanna preempt. Just sayin’.
The storm is coming. You can either endure it, or be it.
^Reflekt – Need To Feel Loved (Adam K & Soha Vocal Mix)^
HEY! It’s now January 7th of 2021! Happy New Year you pack of fucking losers, scumbags, douchebags, etc.!
Let us think about evolution, and mutation. In this instance, we are gonna listen to two different songs by the same dude, and we are gonna add in two remixes of these same songs by two different artists.
- 2 songs by one artist.
- 2 remixes of these two songs, by two different artists.
What I’m wondering is, what is the difference between evolution and mutation.
- Is mutation obvious because a more or less definitive source exists?
- Is evolution obvious because a more or less definitive source does not exist?
^Benny Benassi ft. Gary Go – Cinema (Official Video HD)^
The edge of the Universe is right here. Yes…right here, right now, right in front of you.
Q: Can you reach it?
Doesn’t matter what it is. If you are aware of it, and cannot reach it, its right in front of you.
All this time, you’ve been standing on the edge of nothingness, and didn’t even know it.
^BENNY BENASSI ‘CINEMA’ (SKRILLEX REMIX)^
People have existed on this planet for a very long time. We mingle. We interact. Some of us even get laid occasionally. Yet suddenly, if you don’t avoid everyone else, and if you don’t stay indoors 24/7, we’re all of us …gonna …be …ded.
No one wants to be dead.
Ded si dab!
^Benny Benassi – I Am Not Drunk^
Here’s the last one…a remix of I Am Not Drunk by Bloody Beetroots. We have had two songs by Benny Benassi…Cinema, and I Am Not Drunk; one remix by Skrillex, one remix by Bloody Beetroots.
Q: Where is the evolutionary something, and where is/are the mutation(s)?
May your 2021 be nCoV-2019 free, and I hope all your dreams come true.
Oh wait…before you fuck off, maybe give a little thought to who is pumping what into your head, and why. That shit is there forever afterall. Even if you forget it, there is a void there where the something was, but is now “gone”. So yeah, there is an effect. There are effects. Sight(s), sound(s), smell(s), feel(z)…others are leading you around via a lotta different methods whether you realize it or not. Question is, what are you gonna do about it?
Now…you can feel free to fuck the fuck off.
Have a great weekend.
^Benny Benassi – I Am Not Drunk (The Bloody Beetroot Remix)^
^Benny Benassi – Who’s Your Daddy?^
*Whoa… /stubs butt… ‘Who’s Your Daddy?’ and Lashy’s fresh talk out this afternoon is syncy as fuck, Clicky…*
*Ah, that takes me back… /gazes wistfully…*
*What? Oh, okay, Clicky, you get a Song and I’ll finish up here…*