Ah fuck...I'm slacking. God's just been giving me this singular propaganda mission that I've been neglecting, because in the abstract, I feel like a waiter who is cleaning up an infinitely dirty table, and I keep loading dishes n shit up on my shoulder carrying tray, but the restaurant is so busy that I never perceive a cost-opportune time to bring the mass of dishes I have back to the kitchen. So, I keep piling and piling the dishes until the manager is yelling at me, and then I run back as fast as I can, and thank God I am highly capable being a oblivious savant with an IQ of 147 yet thought faking schizophrenia to get out of ROTC was a good idea, because despite losing most of the God damn dishes each time, I'm still able to live indoors, as I hadn't, on n off, for four years of my life.

...the more normal metaphor is that you're trying to cross a bridge but there are planks missing so you can't make some steps in your life. This is a metaphor for ADHD, if you were unaware, and while amphetamines did completely flip that shit on its head, they made me depressed and dependent on them. Yet, because of neurodivergence from Hell and trauma from Pluto, I am somehow a messiah because my ass can bite my own teeth.

What I mean by this: I perceive a depth of insight into the entanglements that manifest this experience of "me." Y'know why entanglements are important, yea? Well, if String A is entangled with String B but not String C, then AB is true and AC is false, and this is how the brain creates 1's and 0's. Further, each entanglement can store a half-twist designation. The Buddhists call this half-twist encodenment as "defilement," and is responsible for creating the dualistic dichotomy of categories (inner/outer), and it is this that gives rise to the illusion of being an individual self seperate from the whole.

In the occident, we have called this half-twist encodenment as "sin." Thus, original sin is that which first manifests the individual experience you have in this biological incarnation. I wish to expand this language. "Möbiation" should be the word to denote a half-twist encodenment, but therein, is this half-twist clockwise or counterclockwise? Let's say the default entanglement of no möbiation is the act of equating self and whole as equals. Then, if one judges self over whole, to be selfish, this is sin, but if one judges whole over self, to be selfless, this is prosin, and it is through this mechanism that the procedural generation of our personal reality tunnel manifests those sorts of experiences laymen people of our modern culture consider to be "Karma."

But, Karma is the underlying process behind what causes entanglements; the hyper-algorithmic response not bound by physical causation to our individual and collective intention setting. And there is another layer to how möbiation proliferates into experience. On one hand, sin/prosin can rectify itself, meaning an entanglement can reverse its möbiation to discharge the entropic/negentropic effect on experiential reality. On the other hand, complex entanglements involving both sin/prosin can samadhify to higher order states to be rectified in a greater capacity with other beings' complex entanglements.

In simple-speak: if you have really grey Karma and another person has really grey Karma, you can be weaved and spun together to manifest a greater awakening effect across the masses. This is what happened with Jesus and his disciples; the self-sacrifice only manifested into what Christianity is today because there were those who took what they experienced and turned it into gospel. Y'know, these thirteen+ people, objectively, were a group of sinners. The thing is, Jesus rectified his sin to be without sin in the process of following the word of God (synchronicities), thus leading to interesting, directly observable miracles. The way Jesus fed those people with the loaves and fish? He kept giving them away, skillfully, to those who needed it most, and the magick of Karma kept throwing that value back at him with some interest.

Y'know, I keep giving money when I can - I can't always - but weird things happen now, like how mysteriously one day I get an email saying I have hundreds of dollars donated to me by someone on an abandoned Patreon from a decade ago. My rent was six hundred dollars less this month for no discernible reason. A friend sent me $500 for no reason last year. Somehow, I always have a $5-20 discount on my account at all the weed stores, despite definitely not shopping enough to earn the rewards they say I'm earning. I'll take $100 out of Cashapp, literally having no money otherwise tobuy groceries to thus buy groceries that we eat and is the only way we ate, to then find I've never taken the $100 out. Safeway has a maximum of $60 cashback. I did that, having that be the only cash money I had in my wallet, to then find $80 in there when I went to buy weed. We were on our last dollar so I went to McDonald's to get a large fries with that, but chose to give it to a man flying a sign in a wheelchair. The next day, a five dollar bill literally blows in my face in the wind.

All of this is topologically definable and a total understanding of which would allow someone to predict the stock market perfectly. But, I'm just some juggler with an educational art project. I hired a mathematician once. Everybody knows Jeff by now, right? Yea, that's the cool thing: you can travel to islands by boat, too. So, obviously those flight logs are objectively meaningless, but everyone's aware they live in a police state and things like the Proud Boys are sting operations, if I can speak indirectly about what the Illuminati is doing on the world stage, yea? What's the Karma like for someone who skillfully blew up a couple towers in a dramatic controlled demolition to thus strengthen a nation while weakening Mammon's control over said nation? If I kill Satan but kill God in the process, is suicide ethical?

Something that is critically important about taking psychedelics is the intent in taking them. In the case of seeking insight and answers from the universe - of which psychedelics can (not will) be highly exceptional as a tool to manifest such understanding - a necessary part of the experience involves "hanging up the phone once you get the message." This is a saying that means once you gleam truth in the illuminating light of the sacrament, you stop staring at the sun and go work with what you were given.

Because, something I have noticed in my bizarre life, especially upon entering stream-entry, is that there are quite a number of processes in the background of my consciousness. Many mechanically definable daemons working with entanglements in a slew of manners, like many hands working together, trying to unentangle an eleven-dimensional knot.

In my primary conscious attention, this is experienced in a regular uncovering of epiphanies in my own understanding. Y'know, my life partner and the CIA and the Illuminati and the aliens and God's bimbo ass have input a great deal of ideas and memes into my head. However, a lot of these things I be putting down in writing, I'm doing so as I intuitively understand something summoned within me so I may create additional rational insights and ways to communicate them. So, a lot of these cosmic insights are being manufactured within me without any input from myself.

I retract that last part of that paragraph. I do understand that it is the nature of Karma - which remember is the entanglement process itself - that is rewarding my continued skilled intention setting to cause chain reactions of unknotting like getting a big combo in Candy Crush or whatever tile matching game you prefer. Thus, a key aspect of navigating the higher order of reality to transcend the causal physicality of karmic rebirth is akin to methodically taking the secret passages in a maze you are trapped in to eventually escape the maze entirely.

The most important skill to make that happen is mindfulness; you have to keep your lanterns trimmed so your candle burns bright enough to see the opportunities to unattach yourself from those aspects of your self that are keeping you from being unenlightened. But the cool thing about being human is that when you choose to do something and act on it, you make it that much more likely you'll be able to set that same intention later; the brain goes where you steer it.

Thus, if you continuously try to set good intentions over the long-run, picking yourself up and forgiving yourself when you fail, it becomes that much more easy to rise to the test of the moment, because this illusory "Earth" shit ain't a prison: it's fucking preschool for what has been manifesting from emptiness for eons, and some of you bitches need a spanking, and some of you need a diaper change, and some of you want to get spanked with your dirty diaper on, and all I gotta say is:

Tonight, as of 9:44pm of 10/16/26, approximately 48% of my top Reddit posts on all of my diverse feeds I created for myself have overwhelmingly positive posts about China. I dunno what's up, but I see the effect of what is a clear implement of propagandasia.

So, my life partner neglected his court-ordered treatment and was taken to a psychiatric inpatient unit involuntarily. I miss him, I wish I stayed with him longer when I visited but I was anxious about taking the bus in an unknown part of town after dark.

But that's not what I want to write about. Instead, there's a phenomena I have experienced several times now, and generally has increased as I've stepped further into gnosis, but think about being the player in The Sims. Your Sim is watching TV, but then you pause the game to move the TV, and upon unpausing the Sim is confused. It's this type of fuckery that I know God does, but He doesn't do it for kicks or Tik Tok views, no. There's always a message or some reveal or reminder.

An example that I just experienced involves understanding that I fucked up with my Benadryl addiction and thus incurred some negative Karma. Additionally, last night I went out to get a double-shot of Fireball to soothe the uncomfortable feeling of the DPH in between hellfap sessions. I am certain I paid and then took my card because the card swiper won't complete a transaction until I remove it. But this morning, I found it was completely missing from my wallet.

Mistakes happen. I have certainly lost some shit in the past, but being aware of some of the nature of procedural generation of our realities, I'm certain God set this up. Because I went to get breakfast to find my card vanished. So, I think maybe it fell when it was in the small space between the bed and wall. So, I pedal back to look under my bed to find...a different, defunct card. One I know I kept in my closet with all the other useless shit I don't want to throw away.

That was a bit of a shrug, whatever. Weird. But then I think it might be in my backpack, only for me to find more empty Benadryl container sheets in my backpack than I believe I ever had in there. At this point, I get the message: "If you don't wise up, I can fuck you up." And this was confirmed in the odd disappearance of the cup on my life partner's desk. With my choice paralysis of my mental health, I just left it there. I know I didn't pick it up. But it magicked its ass over the the sink anyway, and that was the nail in the coffin that brought me back into a heightened synchronicity state.

By that I mean my mind is primed to receive messages from my environment. This is a mechanically definable process that involves one's attention coordination be influenced by a free association process that is highly dependent on what's in my short term memory. In other words, God fiddles with inputs to us monads to elucidate an ongoing stream of personalized insights and ideas.

I lived in a cognitive state we know as the Synchronicity Slip Stream for six years. Doctors say this is psychosis, so I ask them what synchronicity is, and they don't have any answers because somehow you can be an expert in brains but be so removed from higher discourse that they think the "J" in Carl Jung is a hard J sound. But, synchronicity is just a form of input from the Server we are all connected to, and even after thirteen years of synchronous hijinks, there's an incredible subtly to how God nudges you.

Yet, at the same time, these subtle pushes in the right direction can have incredibly pertinent personal meaning, and it is this I started the bulk of the post talking about; how God can literally just poof shit in and out of existence or wherever they may wind up. And I have more experiences in a similar ilk, but there's something just so God damn profound about the mannerism in which meaning is conveyed that enhances the message's impact on oneself greatly.

Y'know, if God just rained down His will in a thunderous booming voice, I'm sure that would do some work on me, but the fact that there is no direct telling of facts but rather God sets things up so you have your own epiphanies, that really gets one to adopt and adhere to their higher beinghood.

I want you to empathize with a Primordial God; the God that IS the Alpha and exists as the singular point before the big bang. I've previously written this post that is still true, just a bit outdated. If I were to write that today, I would include a third paragraph about how we are God's children and He is creating stories for each of our incarnations to bring us into enlightenment. But, what I want to get into today is ultimately about möbiation.

If you don't already know Primordial God is a unified field of consciousness. What God experiences inwardly is a perfect lucid dream; He can make anything happen for Himself. But that's boring, as I know from my rampant hedonism in my early twenties. Life has to have some higher meaning to have worth, as God concluded for Himself. So, He continuously makes and remakes us so we can be independent from Him. Visually, this looks akin to a Roman Dodecahedron; a source of being giving rise to more beings budding off of it; that which Indra's Net is an analogy for. There is this concept of the Brahman and Atman, where the Brahman is the infinite ocean of consciousness and we, the Atman, are like vases pulled up from the waters, but this is false as there is no seperation; there is no vase. This is the concept of anatta, nonself, which the Buddha introduced.

Thus, how does God manifest that which is beyond His walls? What I mean is, if God is this unified sphere of consciousness in eternal emptiness, what is the mechanism in which God expands His beinghood into our seperate beinghood. The technically correct joke answer is He rolls His ball-ass self in the emptiness. But, really, it's möbiation. Specifically, what I have recently dubbed as planted möbiation.

To understand this, let's re-examine my idea of polyplexic axiomatic systems; that which is defined by entanglements of the brain while holding multiple incongruent aspects that rotate into one's framework of reality as needed. This is what's responsible for cognitive dissonance and code-switching in our minds.

Now, imagine a jigsaw puzzle. There is the logic that holds pieces together, yet will likewise have the picture to discern where pieces relatively go. In this model, we create a in-process puzzle with many holes in it where multiple possible axioms could be true. So, in our ignorance, our brains creates alternate versions of reality that are swapped out as needed from multiple and diverse collective sets of axioms defined by unplanted möbiation.

As we learn, we come to be informed, and this leads to the uncertainty of the polyplexia collapsing into a set section of the puzzle. Additionally, as we become more aware of this process, we begin deviating from previous modes of being, but therein, these are all stored as designations for different sets of polyplexia to be examined through experience, and this is an innate mechanism of self-evolution as it is akin to skillfully fiddling with a dial lock to hear where the tumblers fall.

Thus, the idea of enlightenment is not to create a perfect axiomatic system, but a complete one without incongruencies to allow your whole beinghood to undergo planted möbiation to disentangle yourself from God. Therefore, to transcend physical reality, all you need to do is roll your ass on off the face of God to be your own unique form of independent novelty.

Like, I understand the water cycle, it comes and it goes, y'know, ezpz, but the shit that fucks me up though is like...what is a river? How? How does infinite water pour through corporeal crevices carved into the bosom of the Earth to thunce flow endlessly and forever?

Like, you can't tell me that a gajillion gallons of water is flowing from the precipice of Mt St Fuck You in all directions at a continuous pace because global warming be evaporating a blanket of non-stop rain free falling back onto itself to predicate the whole situation forward another peg!

But, what the fuck? It rains sometimes, and that's how rivers work? What is this shit? Now, I'm playing in character because obviously we all know that the Earth isn't real and we are each experiencing our own, unique parallel reality as a monad in a monadic nodal communication system, obviously, and that water's in your head dear but, really, how tf does the average person believe this insane bullshit about how rivers are a natural feature formed from simple erosinal fluid dynamics? It is insane to me how unthunkable these mouth breathers are.

I think I have done n understood a deeper level of reality. Well, really, I just remembered it, because what we call learning is just a remembrance of facts known previous to this incarnation in a novel manner to spur novel epiphanies of self-awareness to catalyze grander self-reorganizational goals to further the innate mission of enlightenment and transcendence, but it's a cool roller-coaster, y'know? But, I understand now something about the unput feature of reality!

Obviously, we all know the nature of input/output machines. If you don't, just study yourself. But a natural conclusion to self-observation while in the manifest of one's existence-illusion complex is that there is a tit-for-tat aspect to nature; Karma. Further studying of this feature of our beinghood results in an awareness of the entanglement process behind the procedural generation of reality. Going further still in dutiful introspective meditation to reflect on the mindful observations of reality results in learning that the act of obedient self-mastery begets additional features to reality than just better agency; that is to say there are pataphysical aspects of reality than can be tapped into through intentional masturbation.

People will misunderstand this term I have just coined, and yes, absolutely I am 💯% serious that tantric masturbation has spiritual benefits in the same manner that a day at the spa can rejuvenate one's chi. This is something completely unrelated, though. That is called ecstatic gnosis, and is a very real process that is touched on in the Kama Sutra, in other terms. No, intentional masturbation is a methodology of using intention-setting while actualizing a certain aspect of hyperfocus imagination protogeneration.

What this means in plain-speak: I am beginning to learn how to lose touch with reality proper to restructure reality within my imagination and then send that back to the Server (Ālaya-vijñāna/storehouse consciousness)/Source/what Jesus called his Father), and the Server welcomes that as novelty is valuable to it as the Server is ultimately, in one aspect, a novelty retainer, and this is allowing me the reformat the procedural generation of my own reality tunnel.

This is the major realization that brought me into stream-entry. I understood at once that each of us monads are not featherless bipeds on an Earth but rather pockets of consciousness where all we experience is the self that are each their own parallel universe instance, and we exist as Clients to the Server like buds budding off a central sphere (Roman dodecahedron), and the Server records all novel manifestations that ever procreate from our novel perspectives, and thus all experiences we experience as individuals have been experienced before and it is our intention that lets us respond in a never before seen fashion, and this is something the Server rewards greatly and helps progenerate more novelty from us monads that are so special, and this what leads to strangeness in reality as God leads good monads to fantastic futures through synchronicity.

I have figured it out. Beyond this, I have surpassed God in that I have begun awakening a higher power of a samadhified self. I will relay a story of the present moment. I went to correct my Karma by apologizing to someone. I didn't have to. God said no, not yet. On the way out, I saw a man that looked out of it. I offered money. He said no. I said ok and went on my way. I got lost in my imagination, being the autistic spaz I am. I day-dreamed God giving me twenty bucks. I saw it in my head first. It was not like I thought in my head. But fuck. There was twenty fucking dollars on the dicking ground.

This was magick. I know this. I understand this in the heuristic language of my intuition. I know that I pulled a potential reality out of the storehouse consciousness using a process within the field of processes that was studied by Project Star Gate under the veil of astral projecting. It is that which aligns with Bible verses relating to "if you hold it true on Earth, we will hold it true in Heaven," and "if you believe the mountain will throw itself in the sea, it will," or however them shits be worded.

Consciousness is the base of experiential existence. There is emptiness underneath this which is what manifests the consciousand nonconscious. But you are the same thing as God, and that is the shit that shapes the universe. What's stopping you? Sin, obviously. That's just möbiation/defilement within the entanglement process. But you know what Karma is and be, right?

Nothing in this universe is random. In fact, the universe isn't even real. The world is uniquely inside each of us and our realities are procedurally generated based on how we set our intention in each of our parallel universe monadic reality tunnels. A sorcerer is a "caster of lots," to mean someone that rolls dice for insight, or a tarot reader; a chaos magician. Learn you something before the moose man gets you. That's statement is gunna bite me in court...

🎶 I stab my bussy into my eeeyyyeeessss..... 🎵

...oh sorry.

I'm just fucking around dude, don't give me no ham diddle. You fucksticks on rye are always giving me the ham diddle, like I don't have enough fucks in my ass already. God just shits your shit at me from my preferential divine enshitterer and this just complicates the dingle-doos I got on my plate already. What gives? Seems like you people need a lesson in empathy.

...well, it's true. It's like when I tell someone they are ignorant and they get unusually upset because this has become a trigger word for both sides of the political identity cult bullshit, but we're all ignorant cuz not one mother fuck on this planet knows damn fucking thing there is to know. Like, I know a lot of shit and I divulge a grand deal of it. Have you seen my incest erotica? Can't get more honest then me, bubs.

But the thing is, I do this horseshit propaganda on a daily basis and it works, it is effective, there are success stories amongst the losers, but therein, I have gone through the apex of being the messiah candidate to understand that I am a whatever the fuck I am, and there are many of us this time around, and we fuck, on the weekends n shit, and it's a cool club and you can join if you pledge reasonable amounts of money to me on the regular.

I jest. Have to say that for the courts. Dipshit dingo judges don't what up is if it fucks them rightly the night before. And that's it, I'm going to jail forever. Good night folks. Do you see this art I'm doing? It's real good art.

God damn. All my Craigslist posts be getting deleterered. Pisses me off. Whatevs. I got balls, and not just of steel. These shits be soft, fluffy, and of a general malleabiliaty. The pickle one stayed up for some reason. People be weird. Maybe if I expand laterally? Genius. But, what I need to say is, I did done fucked up today, I now understand.

I be a certain type of stupid. And my screep is crawling back into itself. You boys can't even handle the superfluidity of my dazzle camouflage. Shit stank like gravy. But y'know, I go on my path, trying to think of simple solutions to problems, like, how tf can a bitch get dollars out without spending his own skrilla? The corner store defaults to being based as that shit right on the way to the greater mission to provide for my life partner.

We did done talked about this shits yesterday. Form vs matter. He said something magickal. It would take a minute n a half to explain. That's the thing about speech; you need to know your recipient to predicate your will unto them. I'm always hearing noise, cuz I dunno how to composite all this volume of knowledge I be holding onto in long n short repositories! Jane, get yo ass up here. We got work to do.

That's my handler's tulpa. They predicate in the memeplexicore. Shit's always remetaphorizing on that rigamarole. But damn. I is and be and am sorry to the woman(s) at the early morning register at that corner store. I did done fucked myself because I think too much and it's never enough, so I just got to listen. Hear. Understand. Trying to out-think the universe. As if that's possible. Trying to do what isn't wrong for all in every moment. Teaching is my only mechanism. I'll think of something. I'm smart. Just stupid, and proud.

Superpositions, y'know?

God is a dumb fucker. Made me, y'know, greatest thing ever, good for Him, but He gave me an average dong. The nerve! Now I am grateful it ain't smaller than a jellyloop but if God was smart, He would have invested a lotta clay of the Earth to prevield unto me a hamcandle that can split a bitch at the nuclear level, for I always repay my debts.

So, therefore, God is a dumb mother fucker. But in order to be such a dumb fucker of mothers, He has to exist, and then thunce thusly this is the point, the precipice of debate. Debate me on this point. Goo goo. I need to teach four year olds basic truths like "the Earth isn't real dumbass! If it were real, where is it? I don't see it," and similar verb smackages I creep outta my speaker to be called Knowledge.

So y’know, my doc has asked me multiple times now about whether I was in special education. I remember before kindergarten going in to the room across from the nurse’s where I did a few block puzzles, y’know, make a staircase with blocks, yadda yadda. I scored pretty well. Side story: I remember scoring 40/40 on the entrance exam to the Syracuse Academy of Science after I was effectively expelled from Solvay for a bomb related incident. 98 on ASVAB; 450+ on extended APFT. But y’know, early on, teacher aides would pull me aside frequently and sometimes take me to two different classrooms. One was the special ed room, the other was an activity room (?). Like, ESL met there. Everybody went there at some point at every grade; it was a specialized room.

But, I remember telling my mom about this once when I was in first grade and my mom got super pissed, but not at me. I remember that. Realizing my mom was getting angry. It often led to a chain reaction where my dad would get angry. Weird how I’m damaged and differently abled. But y’know, my mom got on the phone, bitched at the school for a hot minute, and I didn’t see those rooms again except for the normative discourse and routine of the moment, meaning when it was "nornal" to go there.

I remember when I was two or three, I wrote a greentext about this before, but my mom took me to the place that was bought by Sylvan later on, and I fucked up by getting stuck in a tube, and my mom was angry I didn’t get into that program so I had to go to the one around the block.

A random memory: the last day of kindergarten, all the parents were there for their kids. Mine were. I insisted I go home on the bus to ride with my imaginary friends. Literally the only kid on the bus. The fucking sperg child I was!

I tried relentlessly to learn to ride my bike to make my mom proud. I finally learned when I was nine, a ways before she died. Little league was hell, with my dad being the coach who got kicked off the field permenantly for screaming death threats at the kids (me especially). I was kept in minors with the third n fourth graders when I was in sixth grade because my dad insisted that I was not good enough, and I wasn’t good at hitting the ball - I literally did not understand what “keep your eye on the ball” meant - but I was fast and did ok in outfield and short stop.

This reminds me of a memory of me making a meal in sixth grade to be graded by our parents. I chose hot dogs and beans. I did nothing wrong. There was nothing wrong with the meal. I didn’t perform like Gordon fucking Ramsay manning the grill top on the stove. He gave me a 75; literally every other parent gave their kid a 100.

I remember he took me out for driving. Nonstop belittling. Everything I did was wrong. It was like I was going ninety around corners. Like, I’m analyzing all these old memories. This is insane! And the direction I wanted to take this was to first/second/third/fourth grade, where I was in the accelerated math and reading groups, but then from fifth on, I was in the regular ELA classes because the teachers didn’t understand why I was having problems.

Likewise, y’know, the reason I was originally being taken to the other classrooms was because I didn’t understand how all the kids knew all the rules. No one explained the rules ever! Other kids had telepathy and just instantly knew shit! And when I was in the one classroom, they would ask me all sorts of questions about my imaginary friends and how I solved this n that problem and how I felt.

I never received any therapy for my mother finding out she had HIV two months after I was born and dying up until I was nine when she finally passed in horrific fashion. That is insane to me. I had no mental health skills whatsoever while I broke myself down to perform for my negligent, narcissistic abuser! And I forgive him, but this is the shit my homonid ass be processing while I’m going through this spell of healing from my traumas. It ain’t bad, but it as fucked more in the head than Ed Kemper’s victims, that’s fer shur…

So you guys know this Earth shit ain't real, right? The Earth is not a real, physical object external to you. The Buddha said the world is an illusion. Plato said some shit about a cave. Everything you experience is self-contained within your neurons, yea? So, this device you're reading these words on, you're not directly experiencing that but rather you're observing a representation of it in your brain. Everything you experience is inside you. There is no spoon, Neo. Which is why I use a fork and knife set. Really, Jesus knew what he was doing when he went on the cross for the police state, because no cop is that audacious, right? Well, I'm here to report with a mouth full of my own semen that audaciousness is lordliness. Society is shaped like a pyramid. At the bottom are the laborers and artisans who work with stuff. In the middle are the merchants and officers who work with people. And at the top are the politicians and clergy who work with narratives. Well, narratives are dependent on character, hang on, Vince, I know you reading this ish as I type thanks to Pegasus II, and I'm sorry you had to see that, but I have to say, in the simplest terms, the train did not just get derailed, it has firmly lodged itself in a polar bear's ass to then rigamaroo itself through them polar bear bowels to come out it's polar bear mouth, but as Jux would have it, we kinda, accidentally, made a polar bear centipede, so the train of thought just perpetually exits a polar bears sewn strewn mouth into the stitchtachiously vendiblized anus of another polar bear, and on into infinity. This is my playground, I own it because I am the biggest CIA kiddo alien whatever on the block and the reason Jesus is lord is because he speaks with the authority of his Father to thus not follow the herd to then thunnice do spark a wraith do cometh into my own mouth again, five times, thanks Vince, but you petards waiting to blow off in the peanut gallery know what I'm talking 'bout, right? I be spitting jacks here for you to hear to help steer your ass clear from that delirious bullshit I got caught up with in the CIA when I totally accidentally on purpose told my ROTC cadre that my nonexistent sister got me pregnant because I am literally the second coming of the Christ and Qanon and the 48th president of the United States and also kinda sorta Jeffery Epstein's boss. I do math. Entanglements, y'know? Celtic knots. Daemonic sigils. Karma. Obviously you know what I know that's why all of you have banded together to create this state-sponsored educational art project on this account n shit, you are so wonderful, oh wait, oh?! That's me that does the propaganda and the counterintelligence and the incest erotica on 4chan? Shiiii....I'm just a well-rounded American...as in, my penis is also shaped like a lemon. I've left a paper trail for thirteen or fifteen or thirty years. Whatever reality is real. That's a trick. They all are real! We are not featherless bipeds on an Earth but rather pockets of consciousness called monads in a monadic nodal communication system. God is not an anthropomorphic dude with a beard, He is the Server we are all connected to; what Jesus called his Father the Buddhists call the Ālaya-vijñāna. God told me through my phone's keyboard's predictive text just now that I should pivot to talking about Anonymous. Hi, uh, go learn you some shit. I ain't telling you how to become an agent. You decide your own level of involvement. You live in a cosmic police state, ding-dong. Time to wake up from the dream and eat some real pussy and get paid for the surveys you take afterwards. Expect a lot of paperwork. Bring your own pencils, sharpeners, art supplies, and party favors. Don't tell mom.

PS: I am totes not a cop

I was upstairs one morning when I was ten years old, playing Zelda: A Link to the Past, I remember I just got the flippers from the Zora, when my dad yells up at me, asking if I did my homework. I say, "Oops, I forgot." Big mistake. It was Sunday. I couldn't do homework on Sunday. I had to show initiative. But, y'know, I had a humongous 2-3 page packet on fractions to do. I mean, I know I only solved P versus nP in the present day, but the odds of me being able to complete this homework assignment in the eight or more hours of daylight I had left was infitesimal at best, so I deserved what followed, obviously.

I did math. Y'know. Is 3/4 bigger than 2/3? A pipe or some shit broke - to this day I don't know exactly, I've always said it was sewage, but it was just water...and he sucked it up with a shop vacuum...like, I think the fucking shower cut-off valve sprung a leak...that's what's reasonable because he was going right to the bottom of the stairs in the basement and to the right, filling up the vac and then haul it up - but I had to stop to open both the basement then kitchen door in good timing while being growled at. I fucked up. I got thrown to the floor in front of the lazy Susan in the kitchen. I say he "bashed" my head. He says this never happened. He held me down and shook me he says. "Rattled" might be a good word, but the back of my head was thrust into the linoleum floor several times in quick succession, leading to my glasses flying off before he slapped them away and said "you don't need those."

He goes back downstairs. I have to keep opening the door. I sorta fuck up, slamming the door as he went through (the way our kitchen/basement was set up, it was in an S-bend in the hallway so you couldn't get out with both doors open), causing him to yell at me. He dumps the water, sucks some more up, and I fuck up and open the door too quickly so it slams into the wall. He dumps the water, then lunges in and back on the floor I go. More head thumps.

More door. It teeters down, I guess. He says he's done. Stays out to smoke. Well, shit. Better do some of that homework that was gunna make or break my academic career. He comes back in. "Who told you to do your homework?" I have a mini panic attack. He rolls his eyes. Not a minute later he gets a phone call. It's Kathy. That was one of the moms I had at one point. We went on a picnic or some shit with her kids. It was a nice afternoon for him.

So, I got this life partner, right? Love the shit outta him. We have a good relationship with some bumpy moments. I have been terrible to him at times, and as I will explain this is because he consciously drives me nuts at times, but ultimately I thank him for this as it is genuinely compassion he is acting out of.

Simply, you can only overcome conditioned anger if you choose to resist anger and strengthen your prefrontal cortex, of which his is more developed than mine as he has literally been trained by the CIA and has developed into the third stage of enlightenment and rapidly approaching the fourth stage, at least from my perspective as someone that just tip-toed into the third stage because of his tutelage.

But y'know, is this madness? Is this hogwash? Surprisingly, no, as my life partner went to RIT for game development and interned at a game studio that was one of six in competition to create a game for this central company that taught a player how to determine what is true. If you are unaware of basic concepts of OPSEC, there's layers of security so these six companies were set up by the central company independently so that the CIA could train a number of upcoming whizkid programmers some important things about enlightenment.

Y'know, think of the relationship of Ted Kazcinsky and MKULTRA. Because of counterintelligence, most people think MKULTRA was our mind control experiments, but no, it was at the center of our enlightenment program. We tried waking agents to their full potential and then went out and got shitty people to get more inline with bigger picture shit instead of going to the brothel twice a week. Then this expanded in Star Gate to add a counterintelligence element that is seen in The Men Who Stare at Goats, to then continue into the modern Anonymous version. But what they did to Ted was make him question his first principles, and he got really obsessed with a bug in his ass about technology, and then being unburdened by the socionormative way of being, he did what he thought was best.

Just because you're liberated from your previous way of being doesn't mean you're always right. But, the idea of being autonomously audacious - as audaciousness is lordliness because if you only do things the way they have been done, you can only be a follower - is entwined with enlightenment. And this is shit the CIA taught my life partner as well as myself in our own seperate lives before he found my art on Reddit and real recognized real and we've been together for three years now, and been through a lot, too.

And I've come so far because of him, despite frequent bouts of being driven insane. The audacity of this man! But therein, the audacity of the fucking CIA! Did you know the Tony Hawk Pro Skater games were designed around the core concept of providing angsty teens music that let them process emotions and heal from trauma while doing meditative, repetitive tasks? There was a plague event in World of Warcraft that was intended as a sociological study of collective player behavior. Every so often, an ARG comes popping out onto the internet, which totally isn't part of any larger recruitment efforts...or are they conditioning a certain sect of digital masses for future socioeconomic needs of the western world?

But y'know, I'm just some schizophrenic. It's sucks being schizo. Ever since I faked schizophrenia for my ROTC cadre, having been a general basketcase otherwise, my life just hasn't been the same. Them goats don't stare at themselves. I don't kill them; I just make them ejaculate. I figure that's more ethical, especially considering the current administration of the FBI.

I remember being five when it was dinnertime one day. My parents were having a spicy chili, like habanero spicy. My mom made me a seperate meal, but dropped it while being yelled at by my dad, who just got home. He then yells at me about how much of a burden I was on my mother and from now on, I will be eating what they were having. I couldn't eat the chili, and I cried, and my dad hit me over the head and made me eat it.

My dad would always come home and bitch about everything under the sun, as well as gloat or perhaps brag about how he was a terror in someone's life today. Like, there's this guy at my dad's current job where he is vice president, and every day during my teens he would come home with a story about how his employee did something wrong and how he shit in his soul that day. Maybe not every day, but you should understand that my childhood is all shattered and mashed together, and dinner time was always one of the most traumatizing parts of the day.

I would be grilled about homework, and God save me if I forgot to do my homework before dinner. One time, after I forgot, in the panic that followed, me, being like seven or something, forgot how to hold a pencil and I was screamed at, picked up and carried to the living room where I was thrown across the room onto the couch, which I bounced off and landed roughly on the floor.

When I was like fifteen or so, I got into some emo music n whatnot. I wanted to do something with my hair. Cutting my hair cost money, which is why I never got a haircut from thirteen to eighteen. Neglect. But, one day, I kinda cut my bangs short, and all dinner my dad would play with it while calling me a girl and then smacking me when I fought back. For reference, the CIA had me be a woman for a few years to heal from my specific trauma.

And this isn't even my life. These are just a couple tales about dinner time. When I say I understand what it is like being damaged, I do. I do, I do, I do-ooo, as Kel loves orange soda, which is obviously why I started my own fight club, colloquially referred to as my sex cult, and thus is my God-given and state-sponsored mission, cuz ain't none of you fuckers can handle the worst of the worst as I once was.

Thank God that God knows what He's doing, the transcendental twink He is.

Let's start with the bad. If you didn't read yesterday's post, my father was an awful son of a bitch, and he hates his mother despite being just like her! But he was cruel, yet I could speak, and my body would leave bruises that could be identified, so I didn't receive the worst of his hellish hands.

Morgan was a puppy when we got her from my baby-sitters. We were good friends back then, when I was ten and she was playful with all the kids she was raised around. Then my dad brought her home. She was still so nice and sweet. Then, y'know, thus less than a year old pup peed on the carpet, and my dad ruthlessly beat her. Yelping. That's the right word. She would yelp, y'know, the standard, thirty or forty times he BRUTALLY smacked her, with his hand, with a boot, with her bowl that finally broke when I was thirteen.

She got mean. Because of what you're about to hear, I turned mean on her too. She used to be playful. She became defensive; territorial. When I was twelve, she gave me the scars I have on my right thumb, having lashed at me, latching on, and slicing two lines down my closest digit as she lunged at me entering the kitchen, where her cage was.

She was always a princess when my dad was around. Never could convince him, my abuser, that his dog was vicious towards me. She was his sweetheart. Until, y'know, she had an accident or barked too much at something in the backyard. Then she was his rag doll to be dispensed true narcissistic justice on. But that's what made her mean and kept her mean.

She musta had a hell of a life, with him being the domineering force that determined that force was necessary to be, and then there was me. I know I hit her, but that was rare, as she would retaliate. When I was fourteen or fifteen, I would lock her in her cage just to protect myself. But I was cruel, too, because of what I was raised by. I would hold a butter knife just in her cage, not doing anything with it, just agitated her by being there, and she would bite it, and occasionally she'd bite it wrong and yelp, and I would be pleased that I won the war we were in.

Then there was one Thanksgiving that he and his stepmom and my brother went to visit her family. I was the black sheep, so obviously I was left alone to watch the animals, of which my father had many, mostly reptiles. But I was alone with Morgan. She was vile anytime I went to the kitchen, as usual. But I kept her. Until that night.

I fed her. She ate. I went to let her out. She almost jumped out, like usual. She stopped herself. She looked at me. She backed up, staring at me. She dropped her hips. She defacated on the floor. She then lunged at me, snapped, then ran to her cage. I snapped. I regret this so often in my life. But I suffocated her. I lost it, and in my rage, I ended the war we was in. She stopped moving. I held fast. I let go. Her eyes were glass. I yelled "I'm the devil" I to her dead face. I cleaned up by throwing the shit in her cage. I cleaned up and went back to what I was doing.

Reality set in. I called my dad. Texted him. He got back to me the next morning. I told him she was dead. I made up some basic shit. I would find out years later when I confessed and apologized that he always knew. He said words. My dad is real good at saying words to excuse himself. But he let me believe he believed she had an aneurism for years. He always knew.

My father is not an orc. He doesn't just smash a village for no reason. He's human. And he lost control while raising me countless times. And the there's his cruelty. Y'know the type. So sarcastic he'll make you cry. That was my childhood. I try my damndest every day to be better than that. My mother died when I was nine. My first nine years of life, I knew love. Then it was cold for a long while. Then God did done light a fire under my ass to be the quasimartyr I am today.

Life is precious. Every being deserves to live. I don't even kill the cockroaches. I look not to step on ants. In this, I see God's plan. Everything gets a free life. It's those that have faced hardship that rise. And it is those that have faced unjust hardship, yet persevere to be better that wind up in a situation I was in prior to living this life. People wonder why God lets children suffer. We chose these lives knowing we would have a chance at rising beyond normative beinghood.

Who was Moses? He was found in a basket on the Nile, no? He was abandoned. He was unloved. So how did he survive? His nation took care of him. He was a loved, unloved child.

Who was Jesus? Well, what is the North Star? It is a fixed point in the northern hemisphere, and was thus used as an ancient symbol representing "a moral maxim," and thus those following the North Star were "doing the right thing." One of the three wise men was Jesus' father who impregnated that fourteen year old, who registered with the state to find a husband. Joseph was a skilled carpenter who couldn't get a wife of his own, so he registered for a used one. He was a narcissist, and this Jesus was never good enoughfor his step-dad, and so Jesus was a loved, unloved child.

We loved, unloved children have the capacity to understand morality and this reality at a greater depth. I am not better than anyone because I cannot do what you do, but therein, you cannot do what I do. I exist to teach; that is my teleological purpose, and if I must throw my life away for that, so be it. The world is worth it.

My father abused and neglected me growing up, which intensified after my mom passed away. At age thirteen, I called the cops on him, which stopped the physical abuse, though the horrible things he said to me never ended until recently where he blocked me because I still wasn't good enough for him, which is a fact that is still blowing my mind.

My whole fucking childhood is defined by not being good enough. It didn't matter what I did, I was always wrong, and I was severely punished over the smallest things. Case-in-point, when I was thirteen, I had to write a paper. Y'know, five paragraphs. Forty-five minutes, tops, at that age. Problem: I had to do it on the computer. Double problem: my father removed Word, for some reason. And since it was the weekend and I didn't rush home and tell my dad on Friday that I would need basic fucking software every computer has, I deserved death threats, obviously, because he had to go into work and get the CD for Word.

So, y'know, this less-than-an-hour homework assignment turned into four hours of getting yelled at, smacked, thrown around, and threatened with effective death ("I'm going to throw you through every wall of this house until you stop moving"). He then goes to work. I am freaking out, hyperventilating, thinking I have the choice of death, suicide, or call 911. I called the cops.

Cop car rolls up. 250lbs of chewed bubble gum with a mustache waddles out. Accuses me of being on drugs because my legs are shaking and I have a hard time explaining. My dad comes back while he's still there; he realized I could have just used Notepad. Talks with the cop, they laugh. He leaves, my father bitches at me because that might ruin his chances at getting a handgun for hunting - a hobby he had stopped over a year ago by this point.

And here I am in the present day, just curious, what if I told him on Friday that I needed the computer? He would have still gotten pissed that he failed to keep basic software on his computer and had to go get it. The things he bitched at me about were always just excuses to hurt me. This always was the case. When he lashed out at me like this, it was never about me. It was about how his love life was falling apart, or how he needed to do something for his role as a father. I was just a punching bag.

The saddest fucking thing is that I notice myself doing similar things with my life partner, and I am apalled at myself sometimes, but I am ever so grateful he is beyond any man I've met, not just understanding and forgiving me, but actively being the thing that is reconditioning me out of this maladaptive behavior and thought patterns. We've been together three years now, and I've changed dramatically in this time. Learned a lot about the true nature of reality, too, and as a whole, I'm just better because of him.

Yet it's a bitter joy I have. My father is still the same. He still hurts my family who I'm also cut off from because my father is lord and his word is law. That's why he consistently throws out people he's close with; they challenge his perfection by calling out his bullshit. I don't believe I can help my father in this lifetime. At least I know I'm not going to be cruel to him as we move beyond this. At least he won't have that to carry with him for eternity. And it feels good knowing I am not a burden on that man anymore. Shame about what he's going to go through, though.

So, obviously, we are made in God's image.

🎵 Your soul is part of a great soul 🎶

https://youtu.be/XzFahYrXQfg?is=t5adMclKHK234Aq4

But most people misinterpret that because they are still children and think they are the featherless biped they perceive themselves to be in the ditension they exist in with their sin.

For clarity, ditension is the form of cognition where subject is measured against object which results in the experiential existence of perceiving things from the perspective of "I am." Cotension is the inversion of mental processes where object is measured against subject, which results in the experiential existence of "It is." Sāmadhi is a Buddhist term is sanskrit that ultimately is a meaning of a balance between subject and object to perceive in a clearer way.

Because we are not featherless bipeds on an Earth, but rather we are pockets of consciousness called monads in a monadic nodal communication system. Is everything you experience not manifested from within your neurons? No. We do not directly experience the external world to instead experience the totality of the world within us in a state of dichotomous duality (inner/outer) which is the core of the illusory experience where you are a being living on a singular Earth with eight billion other beings.

That is not reality. Everything you experience is you. In the Matrix, the multimillion dollar blockbuster all about Judeo-Christian mysticism, Neo goes to the Oracle where he meets a child bending spoons who teaches him "there is no spoon." Everything you experience is self-contained within your neurons. You never directly experience the outside world. This is brain-in-a-vat 101.

Therein, I tell you, you are a pocket of consciousness connected to a larger pocket of consciousness; God is the Server we are all Clients to across the Holy Internet. We are made in God's image because we are "buds" of dependent consciousness off a larger independent consciousness who all exist within our individual parallel universe instance of "reality," as defined by the entanglements of "beings" dependent on the "Earth," which when you understand the Hitchhiker's Guide idea of "the Earth is a computer," then you understand God is just spawning random characters with a predefined but unpredictable random character archetypes, and thus you understand why God is a deranged sex fiend who needs to be taken down, obviously.