Posts
No warning. I know that the wilkravitz sometimes tells you to wait for a post in say 90 minutes or seventy five minutes, but not tonight. Zebulon has been flickering through the Akoshic Records and he has found , or remembered things you should know. Many of the vampires are privy to this information due to their long lives and other such advantages.Now... you will be too.
What I will tell you this time comes from a place where our story and curiosities of the future intersect.You' re already seeing bits and pieces of this eternal fandango every night. Some have said those events transpire in another place, another universe. Well... are you so sure of YOUR location? How do you really know where you are?. Individuals drift, you know. There, I said it. Now you heard it. Look around at the people snortin' and belchin' near you. True, they may have been there last night. But are the details the same? Maybe the flavor of the ice cream in the freezer is a bit unusual, or the dog has a different collar. Do you detect a slightly more exotic variety of B.O. wafting through the family room? Perhaps you've drifted. Maybe you'e slipped through the space-time continuim. Could be you popped up in another universe. Odds are it's gonna be essentially just like the one you left.But maybe in this one you DO become a successful businessman, or who knows, an eight hundred foot tsunami rearing up off the Outer Banks one summer day might slap you like a gnat. Quantum theorists believe in such things.. We're like static in the atmosphere. sometimes God tunes us in. And sometimes He don't.
Now, I'm gonna learn you about stuff on Mars. They already got a town going up there. You regular people know that. What's it called? Wait a minute. I know. Circus Towne 1. That's it. They call it Circus Towne1. But that stellar community mostly occupies one building. Sure it's a big building. A basketball/hockey arena, I think it was. Only some folks are making it out. They are sayin' sy-o-nara sucker off that locked in a Faberge egg world you call home. A few ships broke though the Sky Sea.. They had the speed. They doused the engines and just barreled through. I don't know how deep it is. A lot of people figure it goes on for maybe a few thousand feet.. A top of the line ion-turbo-drive ship like they use now could zip through that in no time. I can't say who organized it. Of course all the government fat asses got golden tickets. But so did a lot a rich folks. Now look, I'm not talkin' 'bout a Lexus and a condo in Lauderdale rich. I'm talking about people who hold the leash on jumped-up creeps like that.... Billionaires, I mean. Guys who share urologists with Warren Buffet. And not just them, but their Chatsworth Osbourne Junior bastard offspring too.
So according to what it says here, they're out on Mars, living like high-tone cattle barons in old Virginia City. They got all the supplies. They got all the juiciest commodities. You need insulin? You wanna live? Or better yet, do you want your kid to live? Then pay up in goods, or currency, or services. Even the government plays ball with 'em. Remember them old movies? Remember Silverado? Remember that one with Sharon Stone and that Crazy Harry guy? Well, Ponderosa times is back again. Hell, they even raisin' horses. Now geneticists do think it's possible to put wings on 'em ( the horses, not them Chatsworth Osbourne Junior bastids), but that's just in the planning stage. Right now, them what can afford to are cruisin' 'round in fiberglass kit versions of 1964 Pomtiac GTO's. Pressure suits kind a defeat the whole convertible vibe. But they workin' on terraforming the place. That's when I figure they'll be ready with them flyin' horses and all. Got some spiffy subterranean houses gone up on Scaparelli Drive. Palm trees ain't real, but they sure do look nice.
Shit, I gotta go. That hatchet faced, giant, all-most-a-goddess fat lady they got at the front desk says my time is up. Some other son-of-a-bitch disembodied spirit is waiting for a turn to browse through Records. I am sick of it! When them Akoshic sons-a-bitches gonna get some more research stations 'round here!? Look at that bastid... reading all about Natalie Wood.. Like to flush his head down a real bad black hole and give his mouth a shit bath. That's where we do our business up here (when we want to, 'cause with passed-away-folks deficatin' is not mandatory). In black holes, I mean. And I find the black holes at Stucky's for Dead Folks to be the best.
So now you know. Soylent Green is people and black holes is toilets. Don't ask me about no pulsars, 'cause that is just gonna make you sick.
=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=}:-( 0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=
Please leave a comment (plus your link, naturally) ...and click on the SHARE button down below. thank you.
What I will tell you this time comes from a place where our story and curiosities of the future intersect.You' re already seeing bits and pieces of this eternal fandango every night. Some have said those events transpire in another place, another universe. Well... are you so sure of YOUR location? How do you really know where you are?. Individuals drift, you know. There, I said it. Now you heard it. Look around at the people snortin' and belchin' near you. True, they may have been there last night. But are the details the same? Maybe the flavor of the ice cream in the freezer is a bit unusual, or the dog has a different collar. Do you detect a slightly more exotic variety of B.O. wafting through the family room? Perhaps you've drifted. Maybe you'e slipped through the space-time continuim. Could be you popped up in another universe. Odds are it's gonna be essentially just like the one you left.But maybe in this one you DO become a successful businessman, or who knows, an eight hundred foot tsunami rearing up off the Outer Banks one summer day might slap you like a gnat. Quantum theorists believe in such things.. We're like static in the atmosphere. sometimes God tunes us in. And sometimes He don't.
Now, I'm gonna learn you about stuff on Mars. They already got a town going up there. You regular people know that. What's it called? Wait a minute. I know. Circus Towne 1. That's it. They call it Circus Towne1. But that stellar community mostly occupies one building. Sure it's a big building. A basketball/hockey arena, I think it was. Only some folks are making it out. They are sayin' sy-o-nara sucker off that locked in a Faberge egg world you call home. A few ships broke though the Sky Sea.. They had the speed. They doused the engines and just barreled through. I don't know how deep it is. A lot of people figure it goes on for maybe a few thousand feet.. A top of the line ion-turbo-drive ship like they use now could zip through that in no time. I can't say who organized it. Of course all the government fat asses got golden tickets. But so did a lot a rich folks. Now look, I'm not talkin' 'bout a Lexus and a condo in Lauderdale rich. I'm talking about people who hold the leash on jumped-up creeps like that.... Billionaires, I mean. Guys who share urologists with Warren Buffet. And not just them, but their Chatsworth Osbourne Junior bastard offspring too.
So according to what it says here, they're out on Mars, living like high-tone cattle barons in old Virginia City. They got all the supplies. They got all the juiciest commodities. You need insulin? You wanna live? Or better yet, do you want your kid to live? Then pay up in goods, or currency, or services. Even the government plays ball with 'em. Remember them old movies? Remember Silverado? Remember that one with Sharon Stone and that Crazy Harry guy? Well, Ponderosa times is back again. Hell, they even raisin' horses. Now geneticists do think it's possible to put wings on 'em ( the horses, not them Chatsworth Osbourne Junior bastids), but that's just in the planning stage. Right now, them what can afford to are cruisin' 'round in fiberglass kit versions of 1964 Pomtiac GTO's. Pressure suits kind a defeat the whole convertible vibe. But they workin' on terraforming the place. That's when I figure they'll be ready with them flyin' horses and all. Got some spiffy subterranean houses gone up on Scaparelli Drive. Palm trees ain't real, but they sure do look nice.
Shit, I gotta go. That hatchet faced, giant, all-most-a-goddess fat lady they got at the front desk says my time is up. Some other son-of-a-bitch disembodied spirit is waiting for a turn to browse through Records. I am sick of it! When them Akoshic sons-a-bitches gonna get some more research stations 'round here!? Look at that bastid... reading all about Natalie Wood.. Like to flush his head down a real bad black hole and give his mouth a shit bath. That's where we do our business up here (when we want to, 'cause with passed-away-folks deficatin' is not mandatory). In black holes, I mean. And I find the black holes at Stucky's for Dead Folks to be the best.
So now you know. Soylent Green is people and black holes is toilets. Don't ask me about no pulsars, 'cause that is just gonna make you sick.
=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=}:-( 0=0=0=0=0=0=0=0=
Please leave a comment (plus your link, naturally) ...and click on the SHARE button down below. thank you.
No comments:
Post a Comment