📁 11-24

If I had a million dollars to guess how someone may use news reporting against people I’d say they do it by listening in on police radio frequencies. I believe ham radio operators are known to dial into those frequencies. It’s pretty simple when you think about it. ABP goes out, and someone can hire an actor to be on scene to wait for the cameras to start rolling. Or even better, that ham radio operator is also a decent actor. It’s the TikTok age, so it’s harder to spot actors with everyone able to jump on camera on a whim to be seen by thousands. Like I said, if I had a million dollars to answer that theoretical question. To be fair, speculation isn’t worth much these days.

Conspiracy theorist I am not.

What I can count on is that 🔗 these people want me to believe that I am Truman of 🔗 The Truman Show. For them, there’s nothing worse than being let down by your idols. And their lives are literally reality TV. Also, their meddling is bound to make me crazy. Because their belligerently up their own assholes. I’ll tell you one thing, the last online forum of which I was an active member of was 🔗 Geekhack. I was raised Chicago–I know better. I’ve known not to meet my idols since I was fresh off the big-wheel. I probably still had cactus spikes in my blue jeans too. Besides, the main person I idolized is now resting at the bottom of the gulf coast. Miss you Dad.

Chances are good that they’re pretending to be me. I mind my business. I don’t needlessly spend money either. Viewer since the porch case review days though. Also viewer since before the Syndicate split days. Shady days for sure.

What I mean by decompression is the systematic deprogramming of the programming I experienced in South Florida. I know how to undo all of it. And I’ve been using 🔗 them to help me unfuck my mind (snow leopard stuff–don’t fuck with my family). Mostly because of how rudimentary the programming was in the first place. It’s a catch all system, not tailored per individual. I’ve probably mentioned this before; I’m just too lazy to link it. And the common theme I’ve read in writer biographies is a four year degree in English. That’s how to become a truly exceptional writer these days (actually from the 70s till now). Also the drive to WANT to write 24/7 along with the imagination for it all to flow on to the pages. Well, that plus the ability to use real world experiences, fears, anxiety, etc. to formulate plot devices and storylines. My only experience in writing is the five paragraph essay. High school. And a little bit of writing for 🔗 Skimthefat.com as Granite Soul. I mean, free skate videos. I had to ham it up for the website visitors.

My rebellious phase was filled with music from Bad Religion (anti-cross logo). I wasn’t really anti-Christian or anything. I liked the band. That was their logo. Typical conservative rebellion stuff tbh. Right up there with skating around on AntiHero or Toy Machine brand skateboards (I preferred Habitat brand skateboards).

I seriously doubt there are more than 10 people that would even hold a copy of my 🔗 biography. Even fewer would hold a book from my imagination. Envy is for people that let those emotions take hold. For those that can afford to have a black hole brewing in their mind, but can’t seem to understand how beneficial it would be to attend therapy sessions. Maybe 🔗 y’all do need Jesus, but you also need therapy. Lots of therapy. Like, truly a lot. Maybe anti-psychotics too. Linux and video games saved my life. They lied their way through high school. They built up whole existences upon houses of cards. Boy howdy they’ll need to attend. Their children will need to attend therapy as well. There’s a lot to unfuck in that family.

Money changes hands in mysterious ways. Sometimes I feel like I make it rain wherever I go. And I don’t have to spend a dime or my own time. I’m just passing through, and I don’t owe anyone information. I was taught that at a VERY early age. Echoes from Chicago if you will. At my high school nearly everyone was digging for dirt. I was caught off guard and divulged information on the first day of 9th grade before getting off the school bus. It’s a byproduct of staying on 13th street. It’s way of life in that area. I’m not looking to make friends. Nah, I’m alright. I’ll do just fine.

My only thoughts of Musk and Trump is for me to stay away. Rich people like them wouldn’t want to be my friend. They’d want to use me for their own whims. Nah, I’d establish polite eye contact, and stay in my lane. I know what’s up. If anything a guy like Trump would just want me to suffer (hence the polite eye contact). I have a type of inner strength that he seems to despise. My strength doesn’t come from a chiseled jaw line, or the way my tongue and mouth move. My strength comes from a heater core built to survive the terribly cold winters of the north. My social media posts are not boosts. I’m simply showing the world the truth. Truth like I gave up on having a dog back in 2012. Health insurance is still an obstacle for me (sheesh).

The truth is that a tamed squirrel probably shouldn’t be released into the wild. If you’ve ever had a pet squirrel, and a pet cat, you know what happens. Cat smells like people, sense of smell tricks squirrel with false sense of security, and then cat kills or eats squirrel. Peanuts was put down for the same reason dogs are put down. It bit someone. While not rabid, it had to be 🔗 tested, because squirrels are 🔗 common vectors of rabies. It wasn’t because of political biases. Also a good sound reason not to feed wild squirrels. If it ever becomes rabid, it’s going to bite the hand that feeds it. Especially in territories established by 🔗 foxes and or coyotes.

I know my lane. I’mma stay in it. I assume nothing. And all my social debts have been paid. I stepped foot on 13th street recently and remembered a bunch of stuff in the process. I remembered what it was like to constantly look over my shoulder. The smell of the city buses. How to blend in with my words. How to show my inner strength whenever possible. How to spot those struggling with bad habits. And how to never maintain eye contact with the person mumbling to themselves. Fun times.

I added a bunch of YouTube playlists to test a theory, and none of the playlists have views as of this post. My choice of music is very eclectic. I bet most of it pisses of 🔗 those people, which is part of my goal tbh. The more I piss them off by being me, the more unfucked my brain becomes. No one is forcing them to view my social media or read this blog. I use unfuck in this blog because it was intertwined in Dad’s stories. It’s a signature if you will. And no I’m an anti-capitalist. Capitalism is what will and has saved us from the communism. You also won’t see me participating in protests either. Too busy chasing that paper.

Good luck, and till next time.