Podcasts about agh

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 23, 2025 66:58

Worth knowing. I operated on a public server using Google as my. Main browser, our of incognito— This meant everything I search on Google I knew to be public, and did so soaringly, and cautiously. I told you more than once not to mess with that fucker! I wasn't! For the most part; however— That fucker was messing with me! Why! Who are you?! I don't know! Ugh. Ten seconds on the ground and I wanted to die. Fuck this place. Just get in the boat, Keenan. No, I won't. Just get— in the boat. Forget it. I'm not going to your— You don't dont even know what it is! Whatever is is. It's a function! If I didn't start making decisive moves around the map— and quick— I could be made to look like anything, or anyone. The media had ways of turning things into monsters—assuming all in all that the political agenda had overall become some short of holy war. I wasn't safe, especially sitting still— entire crowds moved around me as I emerged from days long stretches of speaking to and looking at no one; the more I resisted to conform, the more hostile the monster became— I was vanishing decently from one world and into the next, and on my absence there was a gaping hole needing to be filled but instead, opening into an inescapable void: being something for others as I presumed that I presently was not: I was not a pawn, or a worker, or a sim— I had escaped a matrix that was nearly entirely built on perception, and had adjusted to the understanding of the illusion of this grid. It was an impractical solution, silence and isolation; eventually I had to communicate with other people, and could not hide. But I would not be forced to do anything or speak to anyone I didn't want to— and so I began tricking the system before it could gather information to go about tricking me. After all, I was keeping more to myself than I was sharing or even writing about— I wrote often about race and sociopolitical injustice; however; these things were at a surface level. The things I pondered upon deeply, I kept to myself— I knew that my Google documents were comprised by the way that on the ground level— the simulation level— people had been hacked and sorted based on things I had put into the aglogithmic clouds. Anyone with a cell phone had become a biohazard, because they were socially and psychologically compatible with being technologically programmed to be moved about in any way the controllers saw fit— and who were the controllers using such as humans as devices? The very war mongers who saw this level as none other than that of a game, and people in no sense more than as numbers—a place which my conciousness did lie, and however— my physical body, almost entirely seperate, risided here amongst the all too common. And it was here that I was more likely to die, physically, anyway, than anywhere else because i wanted to. The frequency shift was severe enough that it bubbled and spewed inside of me not as hatred, but anxiety. Not fear, but nautiousness; I was no longer so compatible with the masses that I could normally function as such; an elitist mindset, but only out of elitist practice. I ate well, trained hard, and focused my energy on a higher mindset— It became obvious that if I didn't decide what I was, I was going to be told what I was, or painted in a certain way as percepted, and this I found limiting. If I decided what I was and made it somehow apparent so that others could not cast any judgement upon me, then I could at the very least, later, change it— if it differed too drastically from whatever it was my true purpose and intention. Easily enough, I found the devil worked through almost all things and people around me in such a way that it was best to remain apart from these things and people and to find my way to being surrounded by others who were in fact, shielded by light. Strength in numbers, and what was here something dark enough had torn through that almost all of them were dark as well, and so almost any time at all with that force made me ill. I'm so sorry. No, you're not— but that's okay, Because I'm sorry enough for the both of us. A SPECIAL DETECTIVE, recently promoted to captain from VICE gives the go-ahead on the immidiate detention of a subject with whom multiple units have been preoccupied with over the course of several months. This is… pure cocaine. It appears so… I've— I've never seen anything like it. — that pure? Like— pharmaceutical. In fact… It was pharmaceutical. Ah great. Why is Tom Hanks back in the movie? [breaking forth wall] Uh— because I was in the front of the movie— And in the middle of the movie— And because this is the same movie. Uh… Oh, by the way, you're in a movie. No!!! Wake up. Fuck. COSMIC AVENGER Snapdragons! Double fuck. Double double indeed. The cosmic avenger has a way of not swearing that is almost trademark to his— What does he do again? Nothing. Oh. You're so fucked now…! JIMMY FALLON is arrested and charged with MANSLAUGHTER. WHY! WHAT DID I DO? …nothing. What were his other catchphrases? I have no idea. Well, get a fucking idea. Why is it That you're so— fucking mean. What? I'm supposed to be what you think, the little man in the box is? I was hoping? At all times? Sometimes, at least. Joke's on you. No Fallon, the joke's on you. You're supposed to be funny. Haha. Goddammit, I hate you. You fucking suck. That's my sparring partner. Yep. What did I do?! You fought like a man— And won. Agh. Good luck, kid. What other way is it to fight? MEANWHILE, on BAD GIRLS CLUB Stop pulling my hair! TANISHA I'mon pull these tracks out whether you like it or noT! U THESE AINT TRACKS! That's my hair! The whole room stops for a moment, frozen in a silent confusion. TANISHA Whatchu say? U This— is my HAIR. It's ATTACHED TO MY HEAD. TANISHA Wh—how'd you get on bad girls club?! I don't know! I must have wished for it at some point or something? Wishes?! WHAT THIS GOT TO DONWITH MY ISNES. Witches? She said wishes. Hm. I'm stuck in the tv in like a movie or something? I don't know, it's very meta— all my wishes get granted— its fucked up. That is fucked up. [everyone just kind of agrees] — but that's your hair? Yeah, or— whatever's left of it and not under your fingernails. But these is acrylic. I figured. And these is BRAZILLIAN REMY. Okay. — and my eyelashes came off a Clydesdale! Why! Cause that shit is majestic as fuck! I…agree with you. Alright. Now sense we agree on this— um…comradrie. — agreement. Let's figure out about this— what you say it was? A movie. A movie— but this is a show. A show inside a movie. Okay. Okay. Okay. …so let's…cut to commercial, or—? I don't know I thought No wonder I'm fucking depressed… And now, it was obvious that someone in the media— the actual media, had read my work. I had deconstructed the Strike force 5 as such Hmmm. CBS HBO NBC NBC … That's 3 of the big five but I'm almost entirely sure I ‘ missing something. Where's Kimmel? CBS Colbert? HBO The NBC twins are on my last and ever living but still dying nerve So.. So— So I'm missing precisely one strike force member And arguably two out of the big five… That's— a relief. Considering I think Fox is in the big 5, sure. Don't want to attract the wrong attention. Or the right attention, with pun Intended. Whatever. If anything at all from this last election and current growth spurt slash quarter life crisis, I was a moderate conservative however benefitting more than probably from liberalized… Actually? The more I thought about it, this seemed private. I knew that most people who had spent any time at all in New York homeless shelters ended up in equally fitting project housing, but somehow, I had been spared— and though I had picked up two pairs of decent walking shoes, and maybe even raving shoes—definitely skateboarding shoes— But no running shoes, And I needed new running shoes to actually run; my current running shoes had been used nearly to their fullest extent… Not that I was running anywhere. My treadmill seemed just as entirely sick of my apartment as I was becoming… STEFON Batatas. Suddenly I had remembered with some strain of course, that Bill Hader existed in a legendary and almost mythical sense. Way more mythical than anyone else in this story— even Seth Rogen, who was apparently at some point eventually OH MY GOD. WHAT IS THIS. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? — like, what, hot glued to each other at that party. SETH MEYER(S)? I said no. What. SETH MEYERS I'm not doing it. See, the greatest thing about the festival project, besides it being a corporate sponsored money grab that was growing in value enough to be competable against the superhero franchises DISNEY Hahaha, you wish. That's who I'm missing—Disney. DEADMAU5 No, you're not. I'm not. DEADMAU5 —no…. There's a reason why that dude, in his fragile old age is still touring. DEADMAU5 I'm literally like ten years younger than literally everyone else you just mentioned. (But still touring.) (Read: ☠️ ) —so, you were saying. Oh— the best thing about this whole thing is Wait, how is this Disney? BEFORE: DISNEY You can't Mickey Mouse. MAU5 CAN. DISNEY CAN NOT, and we'll sue you, then kill you, then cryogenically freeze you, bring you back to life — THEN— when your catalogue has doubled in value, sue you again, and then kill you again— And repeat that process infinitely until the end of what is known on earth as “time” Oh, is that what happened to him? I've been wondering. DISNEY Unless… CUT BACK TO: Besides that, The best thing about this project is it features so many standard white savior type protagonists, that if anybody disagrees to this project( they can just be replaced and or characterized by an actor that looks and sounds just like them and their name slightly changed or altered to reflect one which doesn't technically trigger any copyright claims. Can you do that? Yep. 0.0 what's up Seth ROGONE, JOMMY FALOON Sup. Sup. See. [The Festival Project ™] lol Stefon's dungeon. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2025 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

{Happy Days} (2024) | As Seen On TV.

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 23, 2025 66:58

Worth knowing. I operated on a public server using Google as my. Main browser, our of incognito— This meant everything I search on Google I knew to be public, and did so soaringly, and cautiously. I told you more than once not to mess with that fucker! I wasn't! For the most part; however— That fucker was messing with me! Why! Who are you?! I don't know! Ugh. Ten seconds on the ground and I wanted to die. Fuck this place. Just get in the boat, Keenan. No, I won't. Just get— in the boat. Forget it. I'm not going to your— You don't dont even know what it is! Whatever is is. It's a function! If I didn't start making decisive moves around the map— and quick— I could be made to look like anything, or anyone. The media had ways of turning things into monsters—assuming all in all that the political agenda had overall become some short of holy war. I wasn't safe, especially sitting still— entire crowds moved around me as I emerged from days long stretches of speaking to and looking at no one; the more I resisted to conform, the more hostile the monster became— I was vanishing decently from one world and into the next, and on my absence there was a gaping hole needing to be filled but instead, opening into an inescapable void: being something for others as I presumed that I presently was not: I was not a pawn, or a worker, or a sim— I had escaped a matrix that was nearly entirely built on perception, and had adjusted to the understanding of the illusion of this grid. It was an impractical solution, silence and isolation; eventually I had to communicate with other people, and could not hide. But I would not be forced to do anything or speak to anyone I didn't want to— and so I began tricking the system before it could gather information to go about tricking me. After all, I was keeping more to myself than I was sharing or even writing about— I wrote often about race and sociopolitical injustice; however; these things were at a surface level. The things I pondered upon deeply, I kept to myself— I knew that my Google documents were comprised by the way that on the ground level— the simulation level— people had been hacked and sorted based on things I had put into the aglogithmic clouds. Anyone with a cell phone had become a biohazard, because they were socially and psychologically compatible with being technologically programmed to be moved about in any way the controllers saw fit— and who were the controllers using such as humans as devices? The very war mongers who saw this level as none other than that of a game, and people in no sense more than as numbers—a place which my conciousness did lie, and however— my physical body, almost entirely seperate, risided here amongst the all too common. And it was here that I was more likely to die, physically, anyway, than anywhere else because i wanted to. The frequency shift was severe enough that it bubbled and spewed inside of me not as hatred, but anxiety. Not fear, but nautiousness; I was no longer so compatible with the masses that I could normally function as such; an elitist mindset, but only out of elitist practice. I ate well, trained hard, and focused my energy on a higher mindset— It became obvious that if I didn't decide what I was, I was going to be told what I was, or painted in a certain way as percepted, and this I found limiting. If I decided what I was and made it somehow apparent so that others could not cast any judgement upon me, then I could at the very least, later, change it— if it differed too drastically from whatever it was my true purpose and intention. Easily enough, I found the devil worked through almost all things and people around me in such a way that it was best to remain apart from these things and people and to find my way to being surrounded by others who were in fact, shielded by light. Strength in numbers, and what was here something dark enough had torn through that almost all of them were dark as well, and so almost any time at all with that force made me ill. I'm so sorry. No, you're not— but that's okay, Because I'm sorry enough for the both of us. A SPECIAL DETECTIVE, recently promoted to captain from VICE gives the go-ahead on the immidiate detention of a subject with whom multiple units have been preoccupied with over the course of several months. This is… pure cocaine. It appears so… I've— I've never seen anything like it. — that pure? Like— pharmaceutical. In fact… It was pharmaceutical. Ah great. Why is Tom Hanks back in the movie? [breaking forth wall] Uh— because I was in the front of the movie— And in the middle of the movie— And because this is the same movie. Uh… Oh, by the way, you're in a movie. No!!! Wake up. Fuck. COSMIC AVENGER Snapdragons! Double fuck. Double double indeed. The cosmic avenger has a way of not swearing that is almost trademark to his— What does he do again? Nothing. Oh. You're so fucked now…! JIMMY FALLON is arrested and charged with MANSLAUGHTER. WHY! WHAT DID I DO? …nothing. What were his other catchphrases? I have no idea. Well, get a fucking idea. Why is it That you're so— fucking mean. What? I'm supposed to be what you think, the little man in the box is? I was hoping? At all times? Sometimes, at least. Joke's on you. No Fallon, the joke's on you. You're supposed to be funny. Haha. Goddammit, I hate you. You fucking suck. That's my sparring partner. Yep. What did I do?! You fought like a man— And won. Agh. Good luck, kid. What other way is it to fight? MEANWHILE, on BAD GIRLS CLUB Stop pulling my hair! TANISHA I'mon pull these tracks out whether you like it or noT! U THESE AINT TRACKS! That's my hair! The whole room stops for a moment, frozen in a silent confusion. TANISHA Whatchu say? U This— is my HAIR. It's ATTACHED TO MY HEAD. TANISHA Wh—how'd you get on bad girls club?! I don't know! I must have wished for it at some point or something? Wishes?! WHAT THIS GOT TO DONWITH MY ISNES. Witches? She said wishes. Hm. I'm stuck in the tv in like a movie or something? I don't know, it's very meta— all my wishes get granted— its fucked up. That is fucked up. [everyone just kind of agrees] — but that's your hair? Yeah, or— whatever's left of it and not under your fingernails. But these is acrylic. I figured. And these is BRAZILLIAN REMY. Okay. — and my eyelashes came off a Clydesdale! Why! Cause that shit is majestic as fuck! I…agree with you. Alright. Now sense we agree on this— um…comradrie. — agreement. Let's figure out about this— what you say it was? A movie. A movie— but this is a show. A show inside a movie. Okay. Okay. Okay. …so let's…cut to commercial, or—? I don't know I thought No wonder I'm fucking depressed… And now, it was obvious that someone in the media— the actual media, had read my work. I had deconstructed the Strike force 5 as such Hmmm. CBS HBO NBC NBC … That's 3 of the big five but I'm almost entirely sure I ‘ missing something. Where's Kimmel? CBS Colbert? HBO The NBC twins are on my last and ever living but still dying nerve So.. So— So I'm missing precisely one strike force member And arguably two out of the big five… That's— a relief. Considering I think Fox is in the big 5, sure. Don't want to attract the wrong attention. Or the right attention, with pun Intended. Whatever. If anything at all from this last election and current growth spurt slash quarter life crisis, I was a moderate conservative however benefitting more than probably from liberalized… Actually? The more I thought about it, this seemed private. I knew that most people who had spent any time at all in New York homeless shelters ended up in equally fitting project housing, but somehow, I had been spared— and though I had picked up two pairs of decent walking shoes, and maybe even raving shoes—definitely skateboarding shoes— But no running shoes, And I needed new running shoes to actually run; my current running shoes had been used nearly to their fullest extent… Not that I was running anywhere. My treadmill seemed just as entirely sick of my apartment as I was becoming… STEFON Batatas. Suddenly I had remembered with some strain of course, that Bill Hader existed in a legendary and almost mythical sense. Way more mythical than anyone else in this story— even Seth Rogen, who was apparently at some point eventually OH MY GOD. WHAT IS THIS. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? — like, what, hot glued to each other at that party. SETH MEYER(S)? I said no. What. SETH MEYERS I'm not doing it. See, the greatest thing about the festival project, besides it being a corporate sponsored money grab that was growing in value enough to be competable against the superhero franchises DISNEY Hahaha, you wish. That's who I'm missing—Disney. DEADMAU5 No, you're not. I'm not. DEADMAU5 —no…. There's a reason why that dude, in his fragile old age is still touring. DEADMAU5 I'm literally like ten years younger than literally everyone else you just mentioned. (But still touring.) (Read: ☠️ ) —so, you were saying. Oh— the best thing about this whole thing is Wait, how is this Disney? BEFORE: DISNEY You can't Mickey Mouse. MAU5 CAN. DISNEY CAN NOT, and we'll sue you, then kill you, then cryogenically freeze you, bring you back to life — THEN— when your catalogue has doubled in value, sue you again, and then kill you again— And repeat that process infinitely until the end of what is known on earth as “time” Oh, is that what happened to him? I've been wondering. DISNEY Unless… CUT BACK TO: Besides that, The best thing about this project is it features so many standard white savior type protagonists, that if anybody disagrees to this project( they can just be replaced and or characterized by an actor that looks and sounds just like them and their name slightly changed or altered to reflect one which doesn't technically trigger any copyright claims. Can you do that? Yep. 0.0 what's up Seth ROGONE, JOMMY FALOON Sup. Sup. See. [The Festival Project ™] lol Stefon's dungeon. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2025 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

{Happy Days.}

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 23, 2025 66:58

Worth knowing. I operated on a public server using Google as my. Main browser, our of incognito— This meant everything I search on Google I knew to be public, and did so soaringly, and cautiously. I told you more than once not to mess with that fucker! I wasn't! For the most part; however— That fucker was messing with me! Why! Who are you?! I don't know! Ugh. Ten seconds on the ground and I wanted to die. Fuck this place. Just get in the boat, Keenan. No, I won't. Just get— in the boat. Forget it. I'm not going to your— You don't dont even know what it is! Whatever is is. It's a function! If I didn't start making decisive moves around the map— and quick— I could be made to look like anything, or anyone. The media had ways of turning things into monsters—assuming all in all that the political agenda had overall become some short of holy war. I wasn't safe, especially sitting still— entire crowds moved around me as I emerged from days long stretches of speaking to and looking at no one; the more I resisted to conform, the more hostile the monster became— I was vanishing decently from one world and into the next, and on my absence there was a gaping hole needing to be filled but instead, opening into an inescapable void: being something for others as I presumed that I presently was not: I was not a pawn, or a worker, or a sim— I had escaped a matrix that was nearly entirely built on perception, and had adjusted to the understanding of the illusion of this grid. It was an impractical solution, silence and isolation; eventually I had to communicate with other people, and could not hide. But I would not be forced to do anything or speak to anyone I didn't want to— and so I began tricking the system before it could gather information to go about tricking me. After all, I was keeping more to myself than I was sharing or even writing about— I wrote often about race and sociopolitical injustice; however; these things were at a surface level. The things I pondered upon deeply, I kept to myself— I knew that my Google documents were comprised by the way that on the ground level— the simulation level— people had been hacked and sorted based on things I had put into the aglogithmic clouds. Anyone with a cell phone had become a biohazard, because they were socially and psychologically compatible with being technologically programmed to be moved about in any way the controllers saw fit— and who were the controllers using such as humans as devices? The very war mongers who saw this level as none other than that of a game, and people in no sense more than as numbers—a place which my conciousness did lie, and however— my physical body, almost entirely seperate, risided here amongst the all too common. And it was here that I was more likely to die, physically, anyway, than anywhere else because i wanted to. The frequency shift was severe enough that it bubbled and spewed inside of me not as hatred, but anxiety. Not fear, but nautiousness; I was no longer so compatible with the masses that I could normally function as such; an elitist mindset, but only out of elitist practice. I ate well, trained hard, and focused my energy on a higher mindset— It became obvious that if I didn't decide what I was, I was going to be told what I was, or painted in a certain way as percepted, and this I found limiting. If I decided what I was and made it somehow apparent so that others could not cast any judgement upon me, then I could at the very least, later, change it— if it differed too drastically from whatever it was my true purpose and intention. Easily enough, I found the devil worked through almost all things and people around me in such a way that it was best to remain apart from these things and people and to find my way to being surrounded by others who were in fact, shielded by light. Strength in numbers, and what was here something dark enough had torn through that almost all of them were dark as well, and so almost any time at all with that force made me ill. I'm so sorry. No, you're not— but that's okay, Because I'm sorry enough for the both of us. A SPECIAL DETECTIVE, recently promoted to captain from VICE gives the go-ahead on the immidiate detention of a subject with whom multiple units have been preoccupied with over the course of several months. This is… pure cocaine. It appears so… I've— I've never seen anything like it. — that pure? Like— pharmaceutical. In fact… It was pharmaceutical. Ah great. Why is Tom Hanks back in the movie? [breaking forth wall] Uh— because I was in the front of the movie— And in the middle of the movie— And because this is the same movie. Uh… Oh, by the way, you're in a movie. No!!! Wake up. Fuck. COSMIC AVENGER Snapdragons! Double fuck. Double double indeed. The cosmic avenger has a way of not swearing that is almost trademark to his— What does he do again? Nothing. Oh. You're so fucked now…! JIMMY FALLON is arrested and charged with MANSLAUGHTER. WHY! WHAT DID I DO? …nothing. What were his other catchphrases? I have no idea. Well, get a fucking idea. Why is it That you're so— fucking mean. What? I'm supposed to be what you think, the little man in the box is? I was hoping? At all times? Sometimes, at least. Joke's on you. No Fallon, the joke's on you. You're supposed to be funny. Haha. Goddammit, I hate you. You fucking suck. That's my sparring partner. Yep. What did I do?! You fought like a man— And won. Agh. Good luck, kid. What other way is it to fight? MEANWHILE, on BAD GIRLS CLUB Stop pulling my hair! TANISHA I'mon pull these tracks out whether you like it or noT! U THESE AINT TRACKS! That's my hair! The whole room stops for a moment, frozen in a silent confusion. TANISHA Whatchu say? U This— is my HAIR. It's ATTACHED TO MY HEAD. TANISHA Wh—how'd you get on bad girls club?! I don't know! I must have wished for it at some point or something? Wishes?! WHAT THIS GOT TO DONWITH MY ISNES. Witches? She said wishes. Hm. I'm stuck in the tv in like a movie or something? I don't know, it's very meta— all my wishes get granted— its fucked up. That is fucked up. [everyone just kind of agrees] — but that's your hair? Yeah, or— whatever's left of it and not under your fingernails. But these is acrylic. I figured. And these is BRAZILLIAN REMY. Okay. — and my eyelashes came off a Clydesdale! Why! Cause that shit is majestic as fuck! I…agree with you. Alright. Now sense we agree on this— um…comradrie. — agreement. Let's figure out about this— what you say it was? A movie. A movie— but this is a show. A show inside a movie. Okay. Okay. Okay. …so let's…cut to commercial, or—? I don't know I thought No wonder I'm fucking depressed… And now, it was obvious that someone in the media— the actual media, had read my work. I had deconstructed the Strike force 5 as such Hmmm. CBS HBO NBC NBC … That's 3 of the big five but I'm almost entirely sure I ‘ missing something. Where's Kimmel? CBS Colbert? HBO The NBC twins are on my last and ever living but still dying nerve So.. So— So I'm missing precisely one strike force member And arguably two out of the big five… That's— a relief. Considering I think Fox is in the big 5, sure. Don't want to attract the wrong attention. Or the right attention, with pun Intended. Whatever. If anything at all from this last election and current growth spurt slash quarter life crisis, I was a moderate conservative however benefitting more than probably from liberalized… Actually? The more I thought about it, this seemed private. I knew that most people who had spent any time at all in New York homeless shelters ended up in equally fitting project housing, but somehow, I had been spared— and though I had picked up two pairs of decent walking shoes, and maybe even raving shoes—definitely skateboarding shoes— But no running shoes, And I needed new running shoes to actually run; my current running shoes had been used nearly to their fullest extent… Not that I was running anywhere. My treadmill seemed just as entirely sick of my apartment as I was becoming… STEFON Batatas. Suddenly I had remembered with some strain of course, that Bill Hader existed in a legendary and almost mythical sense. Way more mythical than anyone else in this story— even Seth Rogen, who was apparently at some point eventually OH MY GOD. WHAT IS THIS. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? — like, what, hot glued to each other at that party. SETH MEYER(S)? I said no. What. SETH MEYERS I'm not doing it. See, the greatest thing about the festival project, besides it being a corporate sponsored money grab that was growing in value enough to be competable against the superhero franchises DISNEY Hahaha, you wish. That's who I'm missing—Disney. DEADMAU5 No, you're not. I'm not. DEADMAU5 —no…. There's a reason why that dude, in his fragile old age is still touring. DEADMAU5 I'm literally like ten years younger than literally everyone else you just mentioned. (But still touring.) (Read: ☠️ ) —so, you were saying. Oh— the best thing about this whole thing is Wait, how is this Disney? BEFORE: DISNEY You can't Mickey Mouse. MAU5 CAN. DISNEY CAN NOT, and we'll sue you, then kill you, then cryogenically freeze you, bring you back to life — THEN— when your catalogue has doubled in value, sue you again, and then kill you again— And repeat that process infinitely until the end of what is known on earth as “time” Oh, is that what happened to him? I've been wondering. DISNEY Unless… CUT BACK TO: Besides that, The best thing about this project is it features so many standard white savior type protagonists, that if anybody disagrees to this project( they can just be replaced and or characterized by an actor that looks and sounds just like them and their name slightly changed or altered to reflect one which doesn't technically trigger any copyright claims. Can you do that? Yep. 0.0 what's up Seth ROGONE, JOMMY FALOON Sup. Sup. See. [The Festival Project ™] lol Stefon's dungeon. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2025 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

Quantum Economics.

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 17, 2025 4:12

They weren't going to hire me for EDC anyway1- not based off of that mix! But it had been a long week, and a long day, and of all the excuses in the world o had to make, the greatest excuse was this: it just wasn't my best mix( I simply wasn't ready. In fact, my entry was more like a spoof— I hadn't any pictures on my laptop and instead included a photo of my logo; my entry included a bio that was short and direct, vague and said more about my invisible cat than I did me. I didn't include a soundcloud, because I didn't have one, and when it came down to it, I wasn't a fan of the mix; it didn't sound as well as I knew I could do, or even as good as some of my past entries. I was going off the top of my head, with no tracks analyzed to sync—which meant I was wasting valuable playtime selecting tracks, and pitchyhingbthen manually to be exact, which made my mix not sound like me at all. I sounded like an amatur/- and with this being my first on-camera appearance, I certainly was an amatuer. The top of the line technology was foreign to me— and I knew EDC was at a loss; I hadn't handed in my best work or even looked my best, not understanding how fat the camera would make me look. Still, I hadn't even given them the video, and with every bit of my might leading up to the very deadline, I still made a ridiculous effort to hand in something— because it was some thing. I was already on somebody's radar in the DJ world for a very long time— this was my way of showing I was still doing as much as I could to actually catch up to speed with the kids, the hot girl DJ's, and the prostitots who at least could figure out how to analyze and sync their pre-recorded sets and press play on time. My set was janky, and it made it look like I couldn't even do that. But I could. As I had learned by spending that amount of time at the decks, I had actually become quite the technical DJ— little use of effects by choice means that I had precision focused in speed and ability— how many tracks can I get up and down and to stay in line? It was harder than ever without the ability to use sync at all, but I was learning by hand a skill enough DJ's didn't have to make it a skill worth having. Then, there was more I needed not just to learn, but for it to become second nature. For it to be easy to do not just in a room myself, but potentially in front of hundreds and thousands of people. I didn't want to be the average disc jokey. I wanted to play EDC— and not on a little controller on a side stage at 3:30 PM; I was sure I would one day start there, but this year was a wash. I had been thrown off by trying and failing to record the mixed I needed to enter the contest on my birthday and then all that accumulated in the pressure of anxiety, disappointment, and movements I hadn't made in months under the circumstances— for about four days in a row it seemed unlikely that it would happen at all, and when it did, it was at the very last moment, at the literal deadline, with a mix I wasn't particularly proud of and a track which was technically unreleased without using “unlicensed content”— I had selected it in hopes that the judge of the contest, SLANDER might hear something from it. A bass music DJ— and this was bass music, however, with somewhat outdated samples and a rare and very unique technique, I would hope that someone would listen to the track before the mix— and hear something special in it. It was a special song, at least to me— but these people were hard to impress to say the least, still I wanted to at least be on the radar, and I had an Insomniac tattoo that pleaded with me at times to just do whatever it takes. Besides, they had opened up another contest, which meant I had four tracks to present in total— three more tracks and three more mixes, and I was determined that with each passing day I would do better. For now, I was recovering from being out in New York on a rolling basis; my collected self confidence and poise from isolation had dwindled into the rotting core of depression of just being “just another poor black girl in Brooklyn” not an identity I wore on me at all times, but something like a badge that was placed on me by location, and the color of my skin. I hated my apartment, and I hated everything about my circumstances— because it separated me from the other DJs and producers. I wasn't safe, supported, popular, pretty, or well-to-do— and I didn't have the access to thentechnology on a whim, through a friend, or with privelege. Everything I did in the DJ world was a fight, a push, a breakthrough from a world that had no such luxuries— and for the most part, what wasn't going into my music, was going into my mouth. When I wasn't excersising, I was working, and when I wasn't working, I still was. I spent my time writing, and reading, and there was no such thing as a waste of time when I was learning about my predecessors— J.K. Rowling, George Lucas, and even Jim Henson, who I'd learned had made the very first muppet from scratch and by hand! Besides the play on words, I wasn't just a DJ; I was a writer, and a filmmaker, and I was trying to figure out how somehow also I was this strange puppeteer man, coming to the conclusion with the fact that I was also sort of always just obsessed with TV and wanted something to do with it. But I was stamping my foot, and heavily— I didn't just want to be an actor! I didn't just want to be a comedian. And certainly, because it sometimes seemed as if anybody could do it and with the sync button and pre-recorded mixes in mind, any bikini clad hot girl or basic bitch Chad boy could and were very most often DJs—I certainly did not want to nor did I have the choice of being just a DJ, or JUST a producer— because it seemed nothing made sense without being any of the others. But the problem remained that I was still not making any money from anything really worthwhile, and I was sick of subsisting, with the limited choices I had for nutrition and vitamins because of my government subsidies; the foods I wanted were out of reach— the energy sustaining, clean and organically sourced best foods and vitamins were just simply unavailable to people with food stamps, and even on the days I should have felt happiest, I became depressed. How was I going to escape the system— and why was no strawberry flavored vegan protein available to people on EBT?! I was almost a comedian, but lately too depressed to perform. All I wanted was my music world to be real— and it was real— I was doing just about as much as anyone else in the industry was, despite my limitations, and just not getting paid for it. My neighbors banged on the walls when I played music and slammed doors even even I didn't— and when I sang or rapped it sounded like they were slamming things around like they were throwing tantrums and fits. It might have been easy to look past if I were inebriated in some sort of way like most rappers, singers, and performers— but I was stone cold sober. Even in ear plugs, I heard every slam, every bang, every boom— and not to mention the motorcycles and the rest of the idiots outside. It seemed like I was being trapped by an energy that just simply never wanted me to make the best music I knew I could make, and so the best music I knew I could make wasn't going to be in this place. But how would I escape it? IT STARTS NOW. Agh. I promised myself that on my next Instacart subscription I would brush up on my Saturday a Night Live and whatever Which included but wasn't exactly limited to— Seth Meyers, 30 Rock, And almost dreadedly The Tonight Show, starring . Oh look. There he is. What was that dude's name again? Fixed it, You're welcome. What was wrong with it. Just needed some adjustments. Uhh. Wow, I never saw that before. A very strange man has appears to have affixed a giant pair of television antennas to his oddly specific television-shaped house. Hm. Aha, I see… I told you before, Marty. I don't like you hanging out with that old man. He is— — he's strange, Marty! He's strange, Well, maybe I'm strange. I don't think so! Remember this? LORRAINE points at a picture on the refrigerator; Her son, MARTY is clean cut, smiling and well dressed— almost the opposite of his newly adopted Whatever, I just got bored. But mom, he's a genius! Genius my patatootie! Let's not— [The Festival Project ™] Ugh, Mom! —say, “patootie” alright? Especially when I'm watching TV! I can say patootie all I want, especially if it's my patootie! Eww, mom!! Patatootie, patootie, patootie! Alright. I only got two weeks to learn everything I can about Saturday night Live… For whatever reason. WHY! I don't know. WHY! I don't know. WHYYYYYYYYYY?! I don't know, Kenan, shut the fuck up! Woah woah woah. Hold the phone. KENAN cries out into the universe inconsolably about his newly entirely totaled Beamer. KEL can't seem to console him, but doesn't really try. He seems preoccupied with twisting up the perfect blunt, licking it from the sidewalk as KENAN, hunched over the crumpled hood and completely totaled vehicle cries out once more, WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?! There appears to have been a hit-and-run. L E G E N D S Earlier: Well, for… Wait who did I write Flowers for? Bill Hader. That's right. I never found Bill Hader. I was trying to avoid— Oh look, a penny. Aurumph. —oddly enough, I also promised myself a Rick and Morty marathon. Oh, that's right; it was Was I right? I can bet. CHRIS PARNELL seems to have awakened from a very deep sleep. As he lie on his back in the middle of the floor in an unknown room, the location becomes familiar ; he appears to be at Rockerfeller Center— however, not in a usual setting. PARNELL Oh, Jesus Christ… I don't know how I had him and sudakis mixed up. I don't even think they were on the same cast. Also, explain to me why. EXPLAIN TO ME WHY THIS DUDE: [Apparently Rob Riggle] SHOT ME. Shot— yo, wait. And you said— I'm waiting. He was wearing some kind of cloak . A cloak of invisibility. Everything was hidden besides— whatever he was drinking. He was drinking something . Yes, that is correct, apparently! “Apparently” Apparently! “Apparently” Do you remember what he was drinking. Ah, yes. I remember exactly…apparently. Apparently? Yes, exactly—apparently. It appeared to be a strawberry milkshake. A—a strawberry milkshake . A strawberry milkshake! Exactly! Not apparently? Exactly, apparently! Alright… thanks. -_- Now, where were we with the actual celebrities ! I thought this was a Star-studded cast! We are star studded. Where are they then. The who?! The stars ! The what! The people! You said this movie had real star power! It does! Where! Right here, see ?! At some point I had seen all I thought that I could of one man's price — The thing to pay in response to one great, cosmic ask; And then, like nothing ; I dissappeared, and went away with it all, into my cavern, trapped like a madman; To know so much and yet, nothing at all. Shh. K. Take this. *sighs, but almost silently* Shh. *sighs even more deeply, but even more silently* The Legend of Ascencia Yo. Yo what. Yo what the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. It's Skrillex. No, I'm not. Dont tell me— Idiot . You look confused. Do it again. I am— confused. Mortals. Where's deadmau5. I'm not playing deadmau5; These speakers are loud. Play the deadmau5 No, not that. There is it. Aha. See, I found it. —noo. That's better. I'll take it from here. From where. I don't see anything. I don't feel. I don't know anything. I don't say. I lost focus. I go home drunk. I think I called the wrong number. I think I caught a cold on the tour bus. I think I brought the whole road back with me. I think I got more starstruck not watching. I think I ran out of luck— On a four leaf clover. I think I woke up to Conan at Four in the morning Like “top of the morning to ya” And it was too much It was too much. It was too much. Smile. Camera one Camera 3 Run a mile Smile Admire on in 1, 2– Why are we counting up? Somehow my whole world backwards Backend, black tights, Black dress That's right But I don't like rice and my fritters is fried I am fried I am High I guess High I guess High I guess High I guess Hi, I guess. I like his eyes, I guess. Starting to cry I guess, Will ferrel is wild, I guess But why Don't look at the thigh meat I'm high as a kite I guess I just smiled and sung my goodbyes And just stopped trying to try I guess I wasted all my good years On a poor fat boy I wasted all my goo ears on bad songs that Still blow my mind Subliminal messages And as high as I am I still see tides, I guess Whole worlds of oceans and Starting to fly, I guess Yess I'm a bird Fuck this bird All I wanted was water A kite I guess Look, mom, I still cry I guess I digest life by the light and the smiles I get Almost none of them, Retreat to the forest Where I don't see none of them To go downstairs, No hair No make up Ugly girl Black girl Broke girl New York Going downstairs Undressed, Not made up Ugly girl Black girl Nappy girl Fat girl New York Scowl like you mean it Scowl like you mean it Nobody loves be because I'm not famous And no, I don't want you Because you're not famous And no, I don't want you Because you got famous And now I don't want you Because you're too famous Yes Do wah diddy Down by the boardwalk Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2018-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.™

Quantum Economics.

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 17, 2025 4:12

They weren't going to hire me for EDC anyway1- not based off of that mix! But it had been a long week, and a long day, and of all the excuses in the world o had to make, the greatest excuse was this: it just wasn't my best mix( I simply wasn't ready. In fact, my entry was more like a spoof— I hadn't any pictures on my laptop and instead included a photo of my logo; my entry included a bio that was short and direct, vague and said more about my invisible cat than I did me. I didn't include a soundcloud, because I didn't have one, and when it came down to it, I wasn't a fan of the mix; it didn't sound as well as I knew I could do, or even as good as some of my past entries. I was going off the top of my head, with no tracks analyzed to sync—which meant I was wasting valuable playtime selecting tracks, and pitchyhingbthen manually to be exact, which made my mix not sound like me at all. I sounded like an amatur/- and with this being my first on-camera appearance, I certainly was an amatuer. The top of the line technology was foreign to me— and I knew EDC was at a loss; I hadn't handed in my best work or even looked my best, not understanding how fat the camera would make me look. Still, I hadn't even given them the video, and with every bit of my might leading up to the very deadline, I still made a ridiculous effort to hand in something— because it was some thing. I was already on somebody's radar in the DJ world for a very long time— this was my way of showing I was still doing as much as I could to actually catch up to speed with the kids, the hot girl DJ's, and the prostitots who at least could figure out how to analyze and sync their pre-recorded sets and press play on time. My set was janky, and it made it look like I couldn't even do that. But I could. As I had learned by spending that amount of time at the decks, I had actually become quite the technical DJ— little use of effects by choice means that I had precision focused in speed and ability— how many tracks can I get up and down and to stay in line? It was harder than ever without the ability to use sync at all, but I was learning by hand a skill enough DJ's didn't have to make it a skill worth having. Then, there was more I needed not just to learn, but for it to become second nature. For it to be easy to do not just in a room myself, but potentially in front of hundreds and thousands of people. I didn't want to be the average disc jokey. I wanted to play EDC— and not on a little controller on a side stage at 3:30 PM; I was sure I would one day start there, but this year was a wash. I had been thrown off by trying and failing to record the mixed I needed to enter the contest on my birthday and then all that accumulated in the pressure of anxiety, disappointment, and movements I hadn't made in months under the circumstances— for about four days in a row it seemed unlikely that it would happen at all, and when it did, it was at the very last moment, at the literal deadline, with a mix I wasn't particularly proud of and a track which was technically unreleased without using “unlicensed content”— I had selected it in hopes that the judge of the contest, SLANDER might hear something from it. A bass music DJ— and this was bass music, however, with somewhat outdated samples and a rare and very unique technique, I would hope that someone would listen to the track before the mix— and hear something special in it. It was a special song, at least to me— but these people were hard to impress to say the least, still I wanted to at least be on the radar, and I had an Insomniac tattoo that pleaded with me at times to just do whatever it takes. Besides, they had opened up another contest, which meant I had four tracks to present in total— three more tracks and three more mixes, and I was determined that with each passing day I would do better. For now, I was recovering from being out in New York on a rolling basis; my collected self confidence and poise from isolation had dwindled into the rotting core of depression of just being “just another poor black girl in Brooklyn” not an identity I wore on me at all times, but something like a badge that was placed on me by location, and the color of my skin. I hated my apartment, and I hated everything about my circumstances— because it separated me from the other DJs and producers. I wasn't safe, supported, popular, pretty, or well-to-do— and I didn't have the access to thentechnology on a whim, through a friend, or with privelege. Everything I did in the DJ world was a fight, a push, a breakthrough from a world that had no such luxuries— and for the most part, what wasn't going into my music, was going into my mouth. When I wasn't excersising, I was working, and when I wasn't working, I still was. I spent my time writing, and reading, and there was no such thing as a waste of time when I was learning about my predecessors— J.K. Rowling, George Lucas, and even Jim Henson, who I'd learned had made the very first muppet from scratch and by hand! Besides the play on words, I wasn't just a DJ; I was a writer, and a filmmaker, and I was trying to figure out how somehow also I was this strange puppeteer man, coming to the conclusion with the fact that I was also sort of always just obsessed with TV and wanted something to do with it. But I was stamping my foot, and heavily— I didn't just want to be an actor! I didn't just want to be a comedian. And certainly, because it sometimes seemed as if anybody could do it and with the sync button and pre-recorded mixes in mind, any bikini clad hot girl or basic bitch Chad boy could and were very most often DJs—I certainly did not want to nor did I have the choice of being just a DJ, or JUST a producer— because it seemed nothing made sense without being any of the others. But the problem remained that I was still not making any money from anything really worthwhile, and I was sick of subsisting, with the limited choices I had for nutrition and vitamins because of my government subsidies; the foods I wanted were out of reach— the energy sustaining, clean and organically sourced best foods and vitamins were just simply unavailable to people with food stamps, and even on the days I should have felt happiest, I became depressed. How was I going to escape the system— and why was no strawberry flavored vegan protein available to people on EBT?! I was almost a comedian, but lately too depressed to perform. All I wanted was my music world to be real— and it was real— I was doing just about as much as anyone else in the industry was, despite my limitations, and just not getting paid for it. My neighbors banged on the walls when I played music and slammed doors even even I didn't— and when I sang or rapped it sounded like they were slamming things around like they were throwing tantrums and fits. It might have been easy to look past if I were inebriated in some sort of way like most rappers, singers, and performers— but I was stone cold sober. Even in ear plugs, I heard every slam, every bang, every boom— and not to mention the motorcycles and the rest of the idiots outside. It seemed like I was being trapped by an energy that just simply never wanted me to make the best music I knew I could make, and so the best music I knew I could make wasn't going to be in this place. But how would I escape it? IT STARTS NOW. Agh. I promised myself that on my next Instacart subscription I would brush up on my Saturday a Night Live and whatever Which included but wasn't exactly limited to— Seth Meyers, 30 Rock, And almost dreadedly The Tonight Show, starring . Oh look. There he is. What was that dude's name again? Fixed it, You're welcome. What was wrong with it. Just needed some adjustments. Uhh. Wow, I never saw that before. A very strange man has appears to have affixed a giant pair of television antennas to his oddly specific television-shaped house. Hm. Aha, I see… I told you before, Marty. I don't like you hanging out with that old man. He is— — he's strange, Marty! He's strange, Well, maybe I'm strange. I don't think so! Remember this? LORRAINE points at a picture on the refrigerator; Her son, MARTY is clean cut, smiling and well dressed— almost the opposite of his newly adopted Whatever, I just got bored. But mom, he's a genius! Genius my patatootie! Let's not— [The Festival Project ™] Ugh, Mom! —say, “patootie” alright? Especially when I'm watching TV! I can say patootie all I want, especially if it's my patootie! Eww, mom!! Patatootie, patootie, patootie! Alright. I only got two weeks to learn everything I can about Saturday night Live… For whatever reason. WHY! I don't know. WHY! I don't know. WHYYYYYYYYYY?! I don't know, Kenan, shut the fuck up! Woah woah woah. Hold the phone. KENAN cries out into the universe inconsolably about his newly entirely totaled Beamer. KEL can't seem to console him, but doesn't really try. He seems preoccupied with twisting up the perfect blunt, licking it from the sidewalk as KENAN, hunched over the crumpled hood and completely totaled vehicle cries out once more, WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?! There appears to have been a hit-and-run. L E G E N D S Earlier: Well, for… Wait who did I write Flowers for? Bill Hader. That's right. I never found Bill Hader. I was trying to avoid— Oh look, a penny. Aurumph. —oddly enough, I also promised myself a Rick and Morty marathon. Oh, that's right; it was Was I right? I can bet. CHRIS PARNELL seems to have awakened from a very deep sleep. As he lie on his back in the middle of the floor in an unknown room, the location becomes familiar ; he appears to be at Rockerfeller Center— however, not in a usual setting. PARNELL Oh, Jesus Christ… I don't know how I had him and sudakis mixed up. I don't even think they were on the same cast. Also, explain to me why. EXPLAIN TO ME WHY THIS DUDE: [Apparently Rob Riggle] SHOT ME. Shot— yo, wait. And you said— I'm waiting. He was wearing some kind of cloak . A cloak of invisibility. Everything was hidden besides— whatever he was drinking. He was drinking something . Yes, that is correct, apparently! “Apparently” Apparently! “Apparently” Do you remember what he was drinking. Ah, yes. I remember exactly…apparently. Apparently? Yes, exactly—apparently. It appeared to be a strawberry milkshake. A—a strawberry milkshake . A strawberry milkshake! Exactly! Not apparently? Exactly, apparently! Alright… thanks. -_- Now, where were we with the actual celebrities ! I thought this was a Star-studded cast! We are star studded. Where are they then. The who?! The stars ! The what! The people! You said this movie had real star power! It does! Where! Right here, see ?! At some point I had seen all I thought that I could of one man's price — The thing to pay in response to one great, cosmic ask; And then, like nothing ; I dissappeared, and went away with it all, into my cavern, trapped like a madman; To know so much and yet, nothing at all. Shh. K. Take this. *sighs, but almost silently* Shh. *sighs even more deeply, but even more silently* The Legend of Ascencia Yo. Yo what. Yo what the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. It's Skrillex. No, I'm not. Dont tell me— Idiot . You look confused. Do it again. I am— confused. Mortals. Where's deadmau5. I'm not playing deadmau5; These speakers are loud. Play the deadmau5 No, not that. There is it. Aha. See, I found it. —noo. That's better. I'll take it from here. From where. I don't see anything. I don't feel. I don't know anything. I don't say. I lost focus. I go home drunk. I think I called the wrong number. I think I caught a cold on the tour bus. I think I brought the whole road back with me. I think I got more starstruck not watching. I think I ran out of luck— On a four leaf clover. I think I woke up to Conan at Four in the morning Like “top of the morning to ya” And it was too much It was too much. It was too much. Smile. Camera one Camera 3 Run a mile Smile Admire on in 1, 2– Why are we counting up? Somehow my whole world backwards Backend, black tights, Black dress That's right But I don't like rice and my fritters is fried I am fried I am High I guess High I guess High I guess High I guess Hi, I guess. I like his eyes, I guess. Starting to cry I guess, Will ferrel is wild, I guess But why Don't look at the thigh meat I'm high as a kite I guess I just smiled and sung my goodbyes And just stopped trying to try I guess I wasted all my good years On a poor fat boy I wasted all my goo ears on bad songs that Still blow my mind Subliminal messages And as high as I am I still see tides, I guess Whole worlds of oceans and Starting to fly, I guess Yess I'm a bird Fuck this bird All I wanted was water A kite I guess Look, mom, I still cry I guess I digest life by the light and the smiles I get Almost none of them, Retreat to the forest Where I don't see none of them To go downstairs, No hair No make up Ugly girl Black girl Broke girl New York Going downstairs Undressed, Not made up Ugly girl Black girl Nappy girl Fat girl New York Scowl like you mean it Scowl like you mean it Nobody loves be because I'm not famous And no, I don't want you Because you're not famous And no, I don't want you Because you got famous And now I don't want you Because you're too famous Yes Do wah diddy Down by the boardwalk Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2018-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.™

Quantum Economics.

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 17, 2025 4:12

They weren't going to hire me for EDC anyway1- not based off of that mix! But it had been a long week, and a long day, and of all the excuses in the world o had to make, the greatest excuse was this: it just wasn't my best mix( I simply wasn't ready. In fact, my entry was more like a spoof— I hadn't any pictures on my laptop and instead included a photo of my logo; my entry included a bio that was short and direct, vague and said more about my invisible cat than I did me. I didn't include a soundcloud, because I didn't have one, and when it came down to it, I wasn't a fan of the mix; it didn't sound as well as I knew I could do, or even as good as some of my past entries. I was going off the top of my head, with no tracks analyzed to sync—which meant I was wasting valuable playtime selecting tracks, and pitchyhingbthen manually to be exact, which made my mix not sound like me at all. I sounded like an amatur/- and with this being my first on-camera appearance, I certainly was an amatuer. The top of the line technology was foreign to me— and I knew EDC was at a loss; I hadn't handed in my best work or even looked my best, not understanding how fat the camera would make me look. Still, I hadn't even given them the video, and with every bit of my might leading up to the very deadline, I still made a ridiculous effort to hand in something— because it was some thing. I was already on somebody's radar in the DJ world for a very long time— this was my way of showing I was still doing as much as I could to actually catch up to speed with the kids, the hot girl DJ's, and the prostitots who at least could figure out how to analyze and sync their pre-recorded sets and press play on time. My set was janky, and it made it look like I couldn't even do that. But I could. As I had learned by spending that amount of time at the decks, I had actually become quite the technical DJ— little use of effects by choice means that I had precision focused in speed and ability— how many tracks can I get up and down and to stay in line? It was harder than ever without the ability to use sync at all, but I was learning by hand a skill enough DJ's didn't have to make it a skill worth having. Then, there was more I needed not just to learn, but for it to become second nature. For it to be easy to do not just in a room myself, but potentially in front of hundreds and thousands of people. I didn't want to be the average disc jokey. I wanted to play EDC— and not on a little controller on a side stage at 3:30 PM; I was sure I would one day start there, but this year was a wash. I had been thrown off by trying and failing to record the mixed I needed to enter the contest on my birthday and then all that accumulated in the pressure of anxiety, disappointment, and movements I hadn't made in months under the circumstances— for about four days in a row it seemed unlikely that it would happen at all, and when it did, it was at the very last moment, at the literal deadline, with a mix I wasn't particularly proud of and a track which was technically unreleased without using “unlicensed content”— I had selected it in hopes that the judge of the contest, SLANDER might hear something from it. A bass music DJ— and this was bass music, however, with somewhat outdated samples and a rare and very unique technique, I would hope that someone would listen to the track before the mix— and hear something special in it. It was a special song, at least to me— but these people were hard to impress to say the least, still I wanted to at least be on the radar, and I had an Insomniac tattoo that pleaded with me at times to just do whatever it takes. Besides, they had opened up another contest, which meant I had four tracks to present in total— three more tracks and three more mixes, and I was determined that with each passing day I would do better. For now, I was recovering from being out in New York on a rolling basis; my collected self confidence and poise from isolation had dwindled into the rotting core of depression of just being “just another poor black girl in Brooklyn” not an identity I wore on me at all times, but something like a badge that was placed on me by location, and the color of my skin. I hated my apartment, and I hated everything about my circumstances— because it separated me from the other DJs and producers. I wasn't safe, supported, popular, pretty, or well-to-do— and I didn't have the access to thentechnology on a whim, through a friend, or with privelege. Everything I did in the DJ world was a fight, a push, a breakthrough from a world that had no such luxuries— and for the most part, what wasn't going into my music, was going into my mouth. When I wasn't excersising, I was working, and when I wasn't working, I still was. I spent my time writing, and reading, and there was no such thing as a waste of time when I was learning about my predecessors— J.K. Rowling, George Lucas, and even Jim Henson, who I'd learned had made the very first muppet from scratch and by hand! Besides the play on words, I wasn't just a DJ; I was a writer, and a filmmaker, and I was trying to figure out how somehow also I was this strange puppeteer man, coming to the conclusion with the fact that I was also sort of always just obsessed with TV and wanted something to do with it. But I was stamping my foot, and heavily— I didn't just want to be an actor! I didn't just want to be a comedian. And certainly, because it sometimes seemed as if anybody could do it and with the sync button and pre-recorded mixes in mind, any bikini clad hot girl or basic bitch Chad boy could and were very most often DJs—I certainly did not want to nor did I have the choice of being just a DJ, or JUST a producer— because it seemed nothing made sense without being any of the others. But the problem remained that I was still not making any money from anything really worthwhile, and I was sick of subsisting, with the limited choices I had for nutrition and vitamins because of my government subsidies; the foods I wanted were out of reach— the energy sustaining, clean and organically sourced best foods and vitamins were just simply unavailable to people with food stamps, and even on the days I should have felt happiest, I became depressed. How was I going to escape the system— and why was no strawberry flavored vegan protein available to people on EBT?! I was almost a comedian, but lately too depressed to perform. All I wanted was my music world to be real— and it was real— I was doing just about as much as anyone else in the industry was, despite my limitations, and just not getting paid for it. My neighbors banged on the walls when I played music and slammed doors even even I didn't— and when I sang or rapped it sounded like they were slamming things around like they were throwing tantrums and fits. It might have been easy to look past if I were inebriated in some sort of way like most rappers, singers, and performers— but I was stone cold sober. Even in ear plugs, I heard every slam, every bang, every boom— and not to mention the motorcycles and the rest of the idiots outside. It seemed like I was being trapped by an energy that just simply never wanted me to make the best music I knew I could make, and so the best music I knew I could make wasn't going to be in this place. But how would I escape it? IT STARTS NOW. Agh. I promised myself that on my next Instacart subscription I would brush up on my Saturday a Night Live and whatever Which included but wasn't exactly limited to— Seth Meyers, 30 Rock, And almost dreadedly The Tonight Show, starring . Oh look. There he is. What was that dude's name again? Fixed it, You're welcome. What was wrong with it. Just needed some adjustments. Uhh. Wow, I never saw that before. A very strange man has appears to have affixed a giant pair of television antennas to his oddly specific television-shaped house. Hm. Aha, I see… I told you before, Marty. I don't like you hanging out with that old man. He is— — he's strange, Marty! He's strange, Well, maybe I'm strange. I don't think so! Remember this? LORRAINE points at a picture on the refrigerator; Her son, MARTY is clean cut, smiling and well dressed— almost the opposite of his newly adopted Whatever, I just got bored. But mom, he's a genius! Genius my patatootie! Let's not— [The Festival Project ™] Ugh, Mom! —say, “patootie” alright? Especially when I'm watching TV! I can say patootie all I want, especially if it's my patootie! Eww, mom!! Patatootie, patootie, patootie! Alright. I only got two weeks to learn everything I can about Saturday night Live… For whatever reason. WHY! I don't know. WHY! I don't know. WHYYYYYYYYYY?! I don't know, Kenan, shut the fuck up! Woah woah woah. Hold the phone. KENAN cries out into the universe inconsolably about his newly entirely totaled Beamer. KEL can't seem to console him, but doesn't really try. He seems preoccupied with twisting up the perfect blunt, licking it from the sidewalk as KENAN, hunched over the crumpled hood and completely totaled vehicle cries out once more, WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?! There appears to have been a hit-and-run. L E G E N D S Earlier: Well, for… Wait who did I write Flowers for? Bill Hader. That's right. I never found Bill Hader. I was trying to avoid— Oh look, a penny. Aurumph. —oddly enough, I also promised myself a Rick and Morty marathon. Oh, that's right; it was Was I right? I can bet. CHRIS PARNELL seems to have awakened from a very deep sleep. As he lie on his back in the middle of the floor in an unknown room, the location becomes familiar ; he appears to be at Rockerfeller Center— however, not in a usual setting. PARNELL Oh, Jesus Christ… I don't know how I had him and sudakis mixed up. I don't even think they were on the same cast. Also, explain to me why. EXPLAIN TO ME WHY THIS DUDE: [Apparently Rob Riggle] SHOT ME. Shot— yo, wait. And you said— I'm waiting. He was wearing some kind of cloak . A cloak of invisibility. Everything was hidden besides— whatever he was drinking. He was drinking something . Yes, that is correct, apparently! “Apparently” Apparently! “Apparently” Do you remember what he was drinking. Ah, yes. I remember exactly…apparently. Apparently? Yes, exactly—apparently. It appeared to be a strawberry milkshake. A—a strawberry milkshake . A strawberry milkshake! Exactly! Not apparently? Exactly, apparently! Alright… thanks. -_- Now, where were we with the actual celebrities ! I thought this was a Star-studded cast! We are star studded. Where are they then. The who?! The stars ! The what! The people! You said this movie had real star power! It does! Where! Right here, see ?! At some point I had seen all I thought that I could of one man's price — The thing to pay in response to one great, cosmic ask; And then, like nothing ; I dissappeared, and went away with it all, into my cavern, trapped like a madman; To know so much and yet, nothing at all. Shh. K. Take this. *sighs, but almost silently* Shh. *sighs even more deeply, but even more silently* The Legend of Ascencia Yo. Yo what. Yo what the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. It's Skrillex. No, I'm not. Dont tell me— Idiot . You look confused. Do it again. I am— confused. Mortals. Where's deadmau5. I'm not playing deadmau5; These speakers are loud. Play the deadmau5 No, not that. There is it. Aha. See, I found it. —noo. That's better. I'll take it from here. From where. I don't see anything. I don't feel. I don't know anything. I don't say. I lost focus. I go home drunk. I think I called the wrong number. I think I caught a cold on the tour bus. I think I brought the whole road back with me. I think I got more starstruck not watching. I think I ran out of luck— On a four leaf clover. I think I woke up to Conan at Four in the morning Like “top of the morning to ya” And it was too much It was too much. It was too much. Smile. Camera one Camera 3 Run a mile Smile Admire on in 1, 2– Why are we counting up? Somehow my whole world backwards Backend, black tights, Black dress That's right But I don't like rice and my fritters is fried I am fried I am High I guess High I guess High I guess High I guess Hi, I guess. I like his eyes, I guess. Starting to cry I guess, Will ferrel is wild, I guess But why Don't look at the thigh meat I'm high as a kite I guess I just smiled and sung my goodbyes And just stopped trying to try I guess I wasted all my good years On a poor fat boy I wasted all my goo ears on bad songs that Still blow my mind Subliminal messages And as high as I am I still see tides, I guess Whole worlds of oceans and Starting to fly, I guess Yess I'm a bird Fuck this bird All I wanted was water A kite I guess Look, mom, I still cry I guess I digest life by the light and the smiles I get Almost none of them, Retreat to the forest Where I don't see none of them To go downstairs, No hair No make up Ugly girl Black girl Broke girl New York Going downstairs Undressed, Not made up Ugly girl Black girl Nappy girl Fat girl New York Scowl like you mean it Scowl like you mean it Nobody loves be because I'm not famous And no, I don't want you Because you're not famous And no, I don't want you Because you got famous And now I don't want you Because you're too famous Yes Do wah diddy Down by the boardwalk Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2018-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.™

Quantum Economics.

Aggie Growth Hacks Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 17, 2025 4:12

They weren't going to hire me for EDC anyway1- not based off of that mix! But it had been a long week, and a long day, and of all the excuses in the world o had to make, the greatest excuse was this: it just wasn't my best mix( I simply wasn't ready. In fact, my entry was more like a spoof— I hadn't any pictures on my laptop and instead included a photo of my logo; my entry included a bio that was short and direct, vague and said more about my invisible cat than I did me. I didn't include a soundcloud, because I didn't have one, and when it came down to it, I wasn't a fan of the mix; it didn't sound as well as I knew I could do, or even as good as some of my past entries. I was going off the top of my head, with no tracks analyzed to sync—which meant I was wasting valuable playtime selecting tracks, and pitchyhingbthen manually to be exact, which made my mix not sound like me at all. I sounded like an amatur/- and with this being my first on-camera appearance, I certainly was an amatuer. The top of the line technology was foreign to me— and I knew EDC was at a loss; I hadn't handed in my best work or even looked my best, not understanding how fat the camera would make me look. Still, I hadn't even given them the video, and with every bit of my might leading up to the very deadline, I still made a ridiculous effort to hand in something— because it was some thing. I was already on somebody's radar in the DJ world for a very long time— this was my way of showing I was still doing as much as I could to actually catch up to speed with the kids, the hot girl DJ's, and the prostitots who at least could figure out how to analyze and sync their pre-recorded sets and press play on time. My set was janky, and it made it look like I couldn't even do that. But I could. As I had learned by spending that amount of time at the decks, I had actually become quite the technical DJ— little use of effects by choice means that I had precision focused in speed and ability— how many tracks can I get up and down and to stay in line? It was harder than ever without the ability to use sync at all, but I was learning by hand a skill enough DJ's didn't have to make it a skill worth having. Then, there was more I needed not just to learn, but for it to become second nature. For it to be easy to do not just in a room myself, but potentially in front of hundreds and thousands of people. I didn't want to be the average disc jokey. I wanted to play EDC— and not on a little controller on a side stage at 3:30 PM; I was sure I would one day start there, but this year was a wash. I had been thrown off by trying and failing to record the mixed I needed to enter the contest on my birthday and then all that accumulated in the pressure of anxiety, disappointment, and movements I hadn't made in months under the circumstances— for about four days in a row it seemed unlikely that it would happen at all, and when it did, it was at the very last moment, at the literal deadline, with a mix I wasn't particularly proud of and a track which was technically unreleased without using “unlicensed content”— I had selected it in hopes that the judge of the contest, SLANDER might hear something from it. A bass music DJ— and this was bass music, however, with somewhat outdated samples and a rare and very unique technique, I would hope that someone would listen to the track before the mix— and hear something special in it. It was a special song, at least to me— but these people were hard to impress to say the least, still I wanted to at least be on the radar, and I had an Insomniac tattoo that pleaded with me at times to just do whatever it takes. Besides, they had opened up another contest, which meant I had four tracks to present in total— three more tracks and three more mixes, and I was determined that with each passing day I would do better. For now, I was recovering from being out in New York on a rolling basis; my collected self confidence and poise from isolation had dwindled into the rotting core of depression of just being “just another poor black girl in Brooklyn” not an identity I wore on me at all times, but something like a badge that was placed on me by location, and the color of my skin. I hated my apartment, and I hated everything about my circumstances— because it separated me from the other DJs and producers. I wasn't safe, supported, popular, pretty, or well-to-do— and I didn't have the access to thentechnology on a whim, through a friend, or with privelege. Everything I did in the DJ world was a fight, a push, a breakthrough from a world that had no such luxuries— and for the most part, what wasn't going into my music, was going into my mouth. When I wasn't excersising, I was working, and when I wasn't working, I still was. I spent my time writing, and reading, and there was no such thing as a waste of time when I was learning about my predecessors— J.K. Rowling, George Lucas, and even Jim Henson, who I'd learned had made the very first muppet from scratch and by hand! Besides the play on words, I wasn't just a DJ; I was a writer, and a filmmaker, and I was trying to figure out how somehow also I was this strange puppeteer man, coming to the conclusion with the fact that I was also sort of always just obsessed with TV and wanted something to do with it. But I was stamping my foot, and heavily— I didn't just want to be an actor! I didn't just want to be a comedian. And certainly, because it sometimes seemed as if anybody could do it and with the sync button and pre-recorded mixes in mind, any bikini clad hot girl or basic bitch Chad boy could and were very most often DJs—I certainly did not want to nor did I have the choice of being just a DJ, or JUST a producer— because it seemed nothing made sense without being any of the others. But the problem remained that I was still not making any money from anything really worthwhile, and I was sick of subsisting, with the limited choices I had for nutrition and vitamins because of my government subsidies; the foods I wanted were out of reach— the energy sustaining, clean and organically sourced best foods and vitamins were just simply unavailable to people with food stamps, and even on the days I should have felt happiest, I became depressed. How was I going to escape the system— and why was no strawberry flavored vegan protein available to people on EBT?! I was almost a comedian, but lately too depressed to perform. All I wanted was my music world to be real— and it was real— I was doing just about as much as anyone else in the industry was, despite my limitations, and just not getting paid for it. My neighbors banged on the walls when I played music and slammed doors even even I didn't— and when I sang or rapped it sounded like they were slamming things around like they were throwing tantrums and fits. It might have been easy to look past if I were inebriated in some sort of way like most rappers, singers, and performers— but I was stone cold sober. Even in ear plugs, I heard every slam, every bang, every boom— and not to mention the motorcycles and the rest of the idiots outside. It seemed like I was being trapped by an energy that just simply never wanted me to make the best music I knew I could make, and so the best music I knew I could make wasn't going to be in this place. But how would I escape it? IT STARTS NOW. Agh. I promised myself that on my next Instacart subscription I would brush up on my Saturday a Night Live and whatever Which included but wasn't exactly limited to— Seth Meyers, 30 Rock, And almost dreadedly The Tonight Show, starring . Oh look. There he is. What was that dude's name again? Fixed it, You're welcome. What was wrong with it. Just needed some adjustments. Uhh. Wow, I never saw that before. A very strange man has appears to have affixed a giant pair of television antennas to his oddly specific television-shaped house. Hm. Aha, I see… I told you before, Marty. I don't like you hanging out with that old man. He is— — he's strange, Marty! He's strange, Well, maybe I'm strange. I don't think so! Remember this? LORRAINE points at a picture on the refrigerator; Her son, MARTY is clean cut, smiling and well dressed— almost the opposite of his newly adopted Whatever, I just got bored. But mom, he's a genius! Genius my patatootie! Let's not— [The Festival Project ™] Ugh, Mom! —say, “patootie” alright? Especially when I'm watching TV! I can say patootie all I want, especially if it's my patootie! Eww, mom!! Patatootie, patootie, patootie! Alright. I only got two weeks to learn everything I can about Saturday night Live… For whatever reason. WHY! I don't know. WHY! I don't know. WHYYYYYYYYYY?! I don't know, Kenan, shut the fuck up! Woah woah woah. Hold the phone. KENAN cries out into the universe inconsolably about his newly entirely totaled Beamer. KEL can't seem to console him, but doesn't really try. He seems preoccupied with twisting up the perfect blunt, licking it from the sidewalk as KENAN, hunched over the crumpled hood and completely totaled vehicle cries out once more, WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?! There appears to have been a hit-and-run. L E G E N D S Earlier: Well, for… Wait who did I write Flowers for? Bill Hader. That's right. I never found Bill Hader. I was trying to avoid— Oh look, a penny. Aurumph. —oddly enough, I also promised myself a Rick and Morty marathon. Oh, that's right; it was Was I right? I can bet. CHRIS PARNELL seems to have awakened from a very deep sleep. As he lie on his back in the middle of the floor in an unknown room, the location becomes familiar ; he appears to be at Rockerfeller Center— however, not in a usual setting. PARNELL Oh, Jesus Christ… I don't know how I had him and sudakis mixed up. I don't even think they were on the same cast. Also, explain to me why. EXPLAIN TO ME WHY THIS DUDE: [Apparently Rob Riggle] SHOT ME. Shot— yo, wait. And you said— I'm waiting. He was wearing some kind of cloak . A cloak of invisibility. Everything was hidden besides— whatever he was drinking. He was drinking something . Yes, that is correct, apparently! “Apparently” Apparently! “Apparently” Do you remember what he was drinking. Ah, yes. I remember exactly…apparently. Apparently? Yes, exactly—apparently. It appeared to be a strawberry milkshake. A—a strawberry milkshake . A strawberry milkshake! Exactly! Not apparently? Exactly, apparently! Alright… thanks. -_- Now, where were we with the actual celebrities ! I thought this was a Star-studded cast! We are star studded. Where are they then. The who?! The stars ! The what! The people! You said this movie had real star power! It does! Where! Right here, see ?! At some point I had seen all I thought that I could of one man's price — The thing to pay in response to one great, cosmic ask; And then, like nothing ; I dissappeared, and went away with it all, into my cavern, trapped like a madman; To know so much and yet, nothing at all. Shh. K. Take this. *sighs, but almost silently* Shh. *sighs even more deeply, but even more silently* The Legend of Ascencia Yo. Yo what. Yo what the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. It's Skrillex. No, I'm not. Dont tell me— Idiot . You look confused. Do it again. I am— confused. Mortals. Where's deadmau5. I'm not playing deadmau5; These speakers are loud. Play the deadmau5 No, not that. There is it. Aha. See, I found it. —noo. That's better. I'll take it from here. From where. I don't see anything. I don't feel. I don't know anything. I don't say. I lost focus. I go home drunk. I think I called the wrong number. I think I caught a cold on the tour bus. I think I brought the whole road back with me. I think I got more starstruck not watching. I think I ran out of luck— On a four leaf clover. I think I woke up to Conan at Four in the morning Like “top of the morning to ya” And it was too much It was too much. It was too much. Smile. Camera one Camera 3 Run a mile Smile Admire on in 1, 2– Why are we counting up? Somehow my whole world backwards Backend, black tights, Black dress That's right But I don't like rice and my fritters is fried I am fried I am High I guess High I guess High I guess High I guess Hi, I guess. I like his eyes, I guess. Starting to cry I guess, Will ferrel is wild, I guess But why Don't look at the thigh meat I'm high as a kite I guess I just smiled and sung my goodbyes And just stopped trying to try I guess I wasted all my good years On a poor fat boy I wasted all my goo ears on bad songs that Still blow my mind Subliminal messages And as high as I am I still see tides, I guess Whole worlds of oceans and Starting to fly, I guess Yess I'm a bird Fuck this bird All I wanted was water A kite I guess Look, mom, I still cry I guess I digest life by the light and the smiles I get Almost none of them, Retreat to the forest Where I don't see none of them To go downstairs, No hair No make up Ugly girl Black girl Broke girl New York Going downstairs Undressed, Not made up Ugly girl Black girl Nappy girl Fat girl New York Scowl like you mean it Scowl like you mean it Nobody loves be because I'm not famous And no, I don't want you Because you're not famous And no, I don't want you Because you got famous And now I don't want you Because you're too famous Yes Do wah diddy Down by the boardwalk Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2018-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.™

#128 | Jak pomagać, aby to było najbardziej skuteczne? Oto efektywny altruizm

Lepszy Klimat

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 16, 2025 42:51

Gdzie przekierowywać swoje dobre chęci? Czy szef Amazona, który zobowiązał się do oddania większości swoich pieniędzy na cele charytatywne, robi filantrowashing czy realne dobro? Rozmawiam z Chrisem Szulcem, szefem Fundacji Efektywny Altruizm.Sponsorem odcinka jest Fundacja Efektywny Altruizm, której celem jest pomoc w zwiększaniu naszego pozytywnego wpływu na świat: od planowania kariery, przez efektywne darowizny, po realizację projektów. Fundacja wydała niedawno polski przekład nowego wydania książki “Życie, które możesz ocalić” Petera Singera - ebook jest dostępny na stronie fundacji do pobrania za darmo.Chris Szulc, to aktywista społeczny i dyrektor zarządzający Fundacji Efektywny Altruizm. Pracował przy projektach przeciwdziałających skrajnemu ubóstwu w Bangladeszu i rozwijał społeczność efektywny altruizm w Holandii. Przez ostatnie dwa lata wykładał gościnnie przedmiot „Interwencje społeczne” na AGH w Krakowie. Obecnie koncentruje się na budowaniu w Polsce społeczności osób, które chcą pokierować swoją złotówką, godziną lub decyzją zawodową tak, aby można było nimi wywrzeć jak największy pozytywny wpływ na świat.Z odcinka dowiesz się m.in.:czym jest efektywny altruizm;jakimi formami pomocy się zajmuje;jak i kto liczy efektywność organizacji pomocowych;jakie problemy uważa się za pilne do rozwiązania;czy filantropia naprawdę leczy tylko objawy, a nie przyczyny.Podobają Ci się tematy, które poruszam w podcaście? Więcej znajdziesz tu:Instagram: http://bit.ly/3Vene60YouTube: http://bit.ly/3iddUR7TikTok: http://bit.ly/3gDdaobRealizacja: Karolina Deling-Jóźwik - redakcjaIrena Suska - montażP & C Paulina Górska | Varsovia Lab.

wi czy polsce gdzie przez najbardziej obecnie krakowie pomaga pracowa rozmawiam amazona agh fundacja holandii skuteczne efektywny bangladeszu

Przegląd kulturalny z Irą i Beatą | kwiecień 2025

BIScast

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 2, 2025 36:35

Cześć, z tej strony Ira i Bea! Jeśli zastanawiacie się, co fajnego można zrobić po zajęciach, to TRAFILIŚCIE W DOBRE MIEJSCE. Przygotujcie się na porządną pigułkę najgorętszych wydarzeń w kwietniu. W podcaście będziemy omawiać wydarzenia:W Krakowie,Kreatywno-kulturalno-artystyczne,Studenckie (czyli też na studencką kieszeń)W tym odcinku możecie liczyć na najciekawsze konferencje naukowe, przeglądy filmowe, wydarzenia z naszej alma mater AGH i całego Krakowa.Oto kalendarz Google, w którym znajdziesz wydarzenia, o których mówimy!https://calendar.google.com/calendar/u/2?cid=Y19lMjRmYTg3NmIxZTA3YjI3M2QxYTBlODE5YTRlOTFjY2JkYzFiZThiZTczMzZhYzk2MmViYzg1N2NhNzA3NTcxQGdyb3VwLmNhbGVuZGFyLmdvb2dsZS5jb20

google oto cze przegl krakowa agh kreatywno przygotujcie w krakowie

Season 9 Wrap-Up Show with Greg Martin & Chris Hunter

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 11, 2025 20:55

Another season of amazing guests is in the books! Greg and Chris talk about what they learned this season! Aggie Growth Hacks will be on a break as Greg and Chris' businesses have grown and exploded! The AGH team will send updates later this year for a new release date but enjoy Greg and Chris' takeaways from this jam-packed season! If you enjoyed today's episode, please take a moment to leave us a 5-star review and connect with Chris and Greg on LinkedIn! About Aggie Growth Hacks, the podcast sponsored by the McFerrin Center for Entrepreneurship at Texas A&M that is dedicated to highlighting fast-growing Aggie entrepreneurs, learning how they overcame growth challenges with creative growth hacks, and connecting them with other entrepreneurs in the Aggie Network. Timestamps: 0:00 - Intro 2:36 - Greg's Lessons from Starting a Business 4:50 - Chris' Takeaways from 9 Seasons of AGH 6:45 - Leadership, Frameworks and Trust 12:55 - Entrepreneurship has to be around Teamwork 14:44 - Behind the Scenes Thanks Resources: AGH Website: https://www.aggiegrowthhacks.com/ Connect with Greg and Chris! Apple: http://bit.ly/AGH-Apple Spotify: http://bit.ly/AggieGH Stitcher: http://bit.ly/AGH-Stitch Podbean: http://bit.ly/AGH-PB YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCZx9NMwnBXs5RWC3Rwqkpw

starting apple leadership lessons entrepreneurship takeaways frameworks wrap up show agh greg martin chris hunter

A jeżeli PGE przejmie ZE PAK? | Energia do zmiany

Energia do zmiany

Play Episode Listen Later Jan 28, 2025 59:45

W pierwszej części dzisiejszego odcinka Sonia Sobczyk-Grygiel i Julia Cydejko zastanawiają się, jakie będą konsekwencje przejęcia przez PGE aktywów gazowych i jądrowych ZE PAK. W drugiej rozmowie dr. inż. Tomasz Włodek z AGH przybliża sytuację na polskim rynku gazu. Rozmowy prowadzi Dominik Brodacki. Zapraszamy!

energia zapraszamy pg e zmiany rozmowy agh

Abbyr Shen Reesht - Say That Again 15th December 2024

Abbyr Shen Reesht - Say That Again

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 15, 2024 30:25

Gow shiu my leshtal - va mee smooinaghtyn dy row shoh jeant aym hannah, agh hooar mee magh nagh row! Agh fy yerrey, shoh caa diu clashtyn ooilley ny cooishyn ec Daniel Quayle 'sy chlaare echey, 'Kiaull as Cooish', as eisht ta shin clashtyn chyndaays 'sy Ghaelg jeh skeealyn ny Braaraghyn Grimm ass 'Claare ny Gael'.

shen gow agh

Talking all thing LucasArts adventure games.

Adventure Game Hotspot Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 10, 2024 97:40

In this episode of the Adventure Game Hotspot Joshua and Jack are joined by staff AGH staff member and prolific adventure game reviewer Johnny Nys. They discuss the recent AGH youtube video Ranking the 25 BEST LucasArts Adventure Games - Including Telltale https://youtu.be/bAxo2xwmGzE The guys critique the list and present their own top 25 Lucasarts and LucasArts adjacent games. You may be surprised by the order. Stay to the end because the guys each choose their favorite LucasArts INSPIRED adventure game. Follow us at: Web: adventuregamehotspot.com Discord: https://discord.gg/ZUwXg7qwse FB: adventure Game Hotspot IG: adventure_game_hotspot Twitter: @aghotspot Threads: adventure_game_hotspot Mastodon: @AGH@mastodon.gamedev.place BlueSky: @aghotspot.bsky.social #telltalegames #lucasarts #adventuregames #pointandclickadventure #indiegames --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/weirdgamingadventure/support

web ranking lucasarts adventure games agh

10. {The Divine Comedy}

Play Episode Listen Later Nov 28, 2024 69:50

SUNNI BLU becomes a man. I guess. Golly. You sure do seem intolerant. Are you sure you don't want a Peloton. I want to live in a white neighborhood And make enough money That my white neighbors Actually respect me For whatever it is I do. Working on a Saturday. Calm down, Jew mom. I will not clam down. In this house, we abide by holy law! Hold on. What happened. I got distracted, this girl looks just like Edie Falco. Oh, I love Edie Falco. Right? I realized how bizarre my creative process really was, in that days I would get the most work done musically, I became physically restful, and complacent, not worrying about the gym so much as the energy I would use rather towards the music I was making, or the over all lacsidasical approach I took to everything. Not being an entirely-perfect stepford- divorcee with a bleach clean everything in my median space, I realized it was almost a more natural kind of creature that created my music; one who ate and acted normally, and was overall less of an anally retentive bitch—not to say that my normal self was not an anally retire bitch, I was, but it was that my creative process seemed to require more normalcy and averageness; eating regularly, What the fuck man. Idk. I got bored The wheels start turning The pages in my mind become phenomenon, I almost bought it I almost bought the dream; Another story arc. Trust, or don't trust? I don't know— these guys are like the ultimate fluffers… MEAT CIRCUS. MEAT CIRCUS. Okay, I love them. …did she light the candle? Oh look, a candle. Hm. SHE LIT THE CANDLE. SHE LIT THE CANDLE. THEY ADDED GPS TO EDC so then. How many of us are there. Hey. Everybody sit the fuck down, right now. [drones sit down] There she goes. Dammit. Why are you really this short in person? On God, because I'm really this short, irl. Skrillex. NO. Get over here for a second. Wanna go to Disneyland? On my life, I'm like in Cancun right now, but— But what? I'll catch the next flight. “The Uptopia” I thought about finagling a way to get into EDC for like 5 seconds before I remembered what it was, And that i'm a DJ And that it looks cool and all— But sounds, generally like a total nightmare. Not because it wouldn't be fun or anything- a It just wouldn't be fun— —for me. EDC part III Haven't I been to edc more than 3 times already. (Try like 30 times.) —that's enough times. THATS NOT ENOUGH TIMES GIMMIE MY BOX! DID YOU GET THE MAGNET . I GOT THE MAGNET. GET IN THE— Goddamn, dude. That's a lot of magnets. It's really not. Man, what the fuck would even happen if I fuckin actually focused on this project I don't know. I like, haven't focused on this project and it seems like, possibly, maybe I might have brokered some kind of deal that may or may not include Coca Cola and NBC. This dude might be trying to rule the world. All the dudes might be trying to rule the world, I think. Well, what if we put them all in a group together or something —seems—doable And maybe if they're not trying to kill each other, hey the end of of— Oh, look. World peace. Nice. —it. Hm. Let's just say, Altogether I give a total of actually zero fucks— Ah hah And at the end of the day, I just want some dick. How is that going to help achieve world peace, exactly. Fuck around and find out. Ladies. Here, yo. Guy, what's this. A midlife crisis waiting to happen. Oh no. Don't worry, it's almost over. My midlife crisis? No, the part before that. Jellyfishing. I don't know, Patrick, seems like kind of a strange day to go jellyfishing. Just—relax. Jesus Christ. (Soft telephone voice) This is the messiah speaking. Uh…hi. How may I direct your call? Uh… Hello. …is your dad home? Euh…probably not, but I can get you my mom. …that might work. Okay, hold on. (Not telephone voice—actually atrocious Boston accent) MAAAAA. …Jesus Christ. What? TELEPHONE. ring ring. Bitch! Ring ring ring! —bitch! Ring ring ring. —BITCH! Yo! What!! Answer the phone. The phone is ringing! Why do you keep saying “bitch”?! Cause that's a bitch ass telephone, bitch! This is improv! I know! And the first rule of improv is to not saying no, but I refuse to answer a telephone that just says “ring, ring”; that is not a realistic telephone, and so to that, I would just say—“bitch.” Bitch. That is not how improv works. I'ma aim at your head; you technically lost the game already stopping the scene; you said “ring-ring” I said “bitch”; you lost already, I done my part. What? Just—if you're gonna be a phone, be a phone, but don't just say “ring-ring” like that Take me all out of character and shit. What character?! All you said is “bitch!” And all you said was “ring-ring”, hoe—I ain't got time for this— What?! Just be a phone! THAT WAS A PHONE. What phone says ring-ring? Phone ring tone “Ring-ring!” What's that. That's my new ringtone. You're so lame. Well at least we got past the 90's and were clearly into the early two thousands. How do you know? That guy has a ringtone. Who is that guy, anyway—? wait a second! Oh shit. That's him! Get em! Ah, are we bringing back the Italians? I don't think they ever left, they've just been quiet. I want pizza. You're in luck. Goddamn kid! Pizza?! French fries. —I want chocolate cake. AND chocolate cake! Goddamn. You'd better be crafting a goddamn symphony. It's more of like a sonata. “The King Suite” Whatever! Just remember however far you get writing this album is how much more gym time it'll take to be taken seriously promoting it. I'm already promoting it. What, how? LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA DAY. welcome back, kid. Shut up; give me a house. Give me a house song! Okay. OKAY, now downtempo. Downtempo makes me sleepy— but whatever, here. Okay, now techno. Untz-untz—here you are. All it took me was seeing Tiesto's ancient ass plastered all over the place in Brooklyn to realize I don't think it'll ever be “too late” to be a DJ and perhaps I could stand to focus on my other masteries. Whatever. I want chocolate cake . You are gonna get so fat. So? So is she when she pops out three kids— And her music sucks. Sauciness is relative. It sounds like shit in a fucking sandwhich. Just remember tiestos wife is actually like a decade younger than you. Great. I'm looking forward to all my favorite DJ's cradle robbing fashion week for this exact fucking reason. Is that a dig on one of the most legendary dance music DJs of our time? No, it's more of another pondering as to why I wasn't born a 9 foot tall porcelain skin blonde European looking model. I must have done something wrong in a previous existence. Have you tried paddle boarding? That seems /lame Fun! If I start now, maybe by May I can be EDC fit. What's the point of being EDC fit and not going to EDC? Hm. Okay. I can get a peloton, Or EDC tickets— Which should it actually be? What's the point of having a peloton If you're not going to EDC. Correct. But also— Why bother going to EDC at all if you're not going to be mad ripped from riding a peloton all day in your apartment. Also facts. That's what I'm here for Suddenly, I was acting weird. [being weird] Well, weirder than usual. Suddenly, my mind was racing— I was running around my apartment frantically in a halter top that I was certain I looked fabulous in— [looking at least kind of fabulous] — lil bitz. I'm getting to the age where I haven't quite given up, But realizing I'm not going to be the ideal just kind of sits with me in little ways. I haven't let go of myself, I'm not all the way giving up, but I'm more like, settled and secure with myself. A little more self confident in knowing if I wanted just any old dude, I can go out and get one. But I've been saving myself for someone really special. I mean really. And it's been years since I had sex. Actual years, so like— I'm at the point where I can just keep waiting, But sometimes I realize how long it's been, For instance, when I'm shopping, And I'm just kind of, looking around online Figuring out exactly what I want— And I'm scrolling, looking at all the selections And I see this baguette— Like bread, guys. Like a French roll and I think to myself “I'll take that.” I'm getting kind of turned on just looking at it, like Realizing it's bread— I'm like “Ooh, look at this baguette… Oui oui.” lol the fuck is wrong with you. Honestly I'm just looking for vegan chocolate cake without having to make it. Are we a team? …uhhh… kinda depends on who is “we” But since I can hear you faintly in my head, I guess so. Suddenly, I had the feeling that I had written something recently that might at some point become important. Hey. What. I like your five year plan. What fucking five year plan. The one from five years ago. Oh. Wait—what. Let's make it an 8 year plan. You mean 8 years from…from 5 years ago? See, you are good at math. —I—wait, what plan. Okay [chuckles awkwardly] See you later. What. Man, why do like half the characters in this show look and sound like Dillon Francis. Cause they're Dillon Francis. Might as well be. I had also has realized at a certain point recently that I would probably never get married again, and in my own right had set out to be “The Ultimate Lover!” Get out of here, Skrillex. What in the fuck is with that dude. What's wrong with him anyway. Something. Get out. FUCK, HE'S DEAD. Oh well. Not oh well! Someone's definitely gonna be upset about his. Probably! But that's an entirely seperate demographic. We can't be concerned with that. Not our business, The man is dead! You don't know, maybe he's just in A k-hole! [super duper dead] Whatever man. Just— Can you at least give me a hand with his legs. He's heavy. How can he be taller than he looks on TV— Goddamn, he wreaks! He hasn't even been dead long enough for that. I know, he just wreaks, man. Whatever. Look. Just— Ugh— Let's roll him into that tent over there. What. Just roll him in-/ Agh. And hurry up— Virtual Riot is about to start. Goddamn. The wooks. These aren't any ordinary wooks. They're frat boys Oh, that headdress, though. You remember the headdress! I remember the everything, I'm just— trying to forget. Crimes. Or at least—pretending to. You remember David after the dentist? [David after the dentist] AAAAAGAAGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH Well, this is James after The Jam. Mm. What kind Of Jam is this! It's—Jelly. Ah. You're dead. It's—really good. You know what— This is Sauerkraut. Happy accidents is getting weird. Man. I like it. Untz untz untz I just found this out, and I'm over the moon like exactic about this— I just found out you can like, totally buy 5 lbs of marijuana Over the internet. For what? I don't know. Sounds like a deal. Sign me up. Anyway, I found this out— Because I found this bread I like Yes— I know Bread to marijuana We are—making connections— Anyway, I found this bread I like From this one place, And I love this place so much That I begin buying this bread regularly— I love it so much that, I'm looking through all their breads in their bakery and I realize, “Holy shit—they just have the most insane bakery, ever.” Like all the breads are sounding phenomenal— They're real bread— Most bread if it's real bread is vegan, So I'm looking through the bread like, “Holy shit, this all sounds fire—“ And when I like a place a lot— Especially in New York, I get weird about it. Like, I want to know the origins of the place. I love history— History—cannabis—and bread, I know. “Whose the lucky guy?!” lol. Nobody, obviously— if this is my life; but I digress. I'm looking at all these breads, All these artisanal, like— Fresh cakes and, Really unique like, Breads of every kind— And I start thinking to myself “I love this place.” “I love this place” So I start thinking about like the origins of this place— You know like, historically— Like, Sometimes you find cool stuff out about a place Macy's or whatever, Has cool history— Like the oldest surviving wooden escalator Being at the flagship department store in midtown Stuff like that. I love history— So I go to look up this place— I type this place into the search bar with absolutely no other specifications than I think, The name— And the first link that comes up Is a fire sale of 5 pounds of “hemp flower” But from the picture I can see that it's evidently really Complete marijuana— Actual cannabis flower; So I look into this matter, and I investigate this link a little further to figure out— “What is this?” And as it turns out, my suspicions are correct, You can now obtain large quantities of marijuana Via a Google search— By complete accident. I'm like, “Woah!” [Bookmark the page and shit.] “Keep that in there for later…” You know, just in case I ever have $2,200 dollars roughly of disposable income and ever feel like upstarting my very own drug enterprise… Er, restarting— But the drug enterprise I had in college was nothing like this— This is next level. Its the internet age now, buddy! Shit is legitimate. Wait, sorry— is the statute of limitations up yet? Whatever. Leave no trace. There—are bigger fish to fry. lol. Bread, man. I love bread. You make me mad, But I'm still in love with you; You might be far, but I'm still in love with you You might do bad, but I'm still in love with you Come back to bed; You know I'm still in love with you You make me mad, But I'm still in love with you; You might be far, but I'm still in love with you You might do bad, but I'm still in love with you Come back to bed; You know I'm still in love with you Doesn't matter (You know I'm still in love with you) Cause it doesn't matter (You know I'm still in love with you It doesn't matter (You know I'm still in love with you) I'm still in love with you— You know I'm still in love with you. You know what— Huh— Does lemon raspberry sound better or like, This caramel toffee? You know I love a good lemon ice cream— Lemon custard Posh. Ah, the hedons are back. /*herons (You know Insomniac's making their rounds. ) Getdamoney Getdamoney getda— Woah— hold up, what is this I don't know Looks lucrative Facts Hmmm— Worthwhile investment, perhaps Maybe, maybe Very well Getdamoney Getdamoney Getdamoney Take a look at this young buck, they said. So I did. Turns out, the jokes on me. Me, and all my old friends In all my old lives On all my old world Play games In other words, The world goes on, Then off, Then it goes on, We come home— To laugh with one another Me and my friends, We play games Out of body Mind games In the body Play lives, All for entertainment In the old world, We said “One” Off we run, I said So on, comes dawn again We all talk of old reunion. We all talk of— FUCK, man. It's non dairy. I don't give a fuck about your ice cream! We're all on ice cream. I don't give a fuck about ice cream! On, you don't. No! Alright. Done. You know, it's like one door opens— Another door closes; And that's true— But whatever fucking weird drone robots They're probably paying to just come in one door And out the other Are karma cannons— And by that I mean— Whatever's disturbing me; Will eventually disturb them— And maybe, just maybe— In the same annoying way. So one day somebody wakes up and writes an anthology saga about you. It's not about you, it's about me— That's what I said. And that's probably what happened anyway—is what I'm thinking—and either way, I'm just the protagonist of that series, anyway. That's—logical, I'm thinking. I'm also thinking. Man. It feels so good to just sit in silence. Yeah. It does. Didn't you want kids? Whatever. Abusive relationships suck. My version of our kid is hands down way better then your version of our kid. Hands down. Let's get down to the nitti grotti of things here. Nitty Gritty. 11:30. But that's when Tranwrexk is playing. Who the fuck is teaintwrext. No, it's. Whatever. Nitti gritti Okay, so I'm obviously like, not going to forget the lady beating the shit out of her dog at the Trader Joe's— But I think maybe even the best part about it was the fact that it was like, a pug. I'm not really ready to go out in public or anything-1 I don't know— I'm like traumatized by the disparity of the human race, or whatever. But shout out to the lady beating the shit out of her dog at the Trader Joe's. I don't know what he did. But if you're gonna beat your pug at the Trader Joe's, he probably deserved it. Goddamn you Marc Jacobs! This is what you get for leaving a puddle in produce section! Goddammit! What else are you gonna name a purebred pug that you take everywhere with you— Including Trader Joe's? “This is Marc Jacobs” We thought he was a puggle but it turns out he was a purebreed and we just got so lucky! He gets nervous around people— Sometimes especially at the Trader Joe's He just gets so excited! Bad Marx Jacobs! BAD! On another note why am I just not automatically genetically built like a 6'5 Scandinavian chick. Like, it's cool my legs don't grow any hair at all, but goddamnit I would rather walk fashion week and just— Automatically never be hungry. Imagine giving birth to a supermodel baby and just Here, baby— take this The baby is like: *milks for two seconds* Alright, I'm good. Are you sure, baby. The baby's like “I'm— all full” Are you sure? Baby's like yeah— put me on the treadmill for an hour, would you? I gotta go fast-crawl this all off. Breastmilk, whew. Heavy shit. Just set the incline to all the way up, alright— And make sure I turn up the propane pig to high volume I want to make sure I'm deaf in one ear And only have one brain cell I don't want them to think I talk to much. Mom's like, “Um, okay— are you sure you don't just want like, more breastmilk” Baby's like “No ma, put me on the treadmill and shut the fuck yo you fat cow!” Goddammit, alright. That's— Some kids are just born destined to be— whatever— you know? Me? I was destined to like food, but be pretty much allergic to it— Pretty much allergic to all of it. Not in the typical sense of like having a food allergy— Not getting hives or anything Just— Prone to max weight gain after minimal, regular fucking eating— Minimal fucking eating And maximum effort in the gym just equals More muscle Which, then, The excess fat will just sit on top of Sort of like— Just double fucking bad. It's insane. So that's two waist trainers Correct Two sauna suits Oh my God, what if he's actually 6'3? Who's 6'3?! Getawayfromme. Shoot that nigga. You have a nice double chin. Thanks, I got it myself Liz Nice. Comedy Central presents: roast of the hosts The comics of late night tv roast each other l HOw many jokes do I need? A lot. Let's start with the favorite Favorite? Nah. Jimmy Fallon looks constpated. Every time I see that dude, I'm like— —?! What's wrong with him. Also— Why do you look like the off brand version of Justin long? I smell a conspiracy. And aspercreme. What's up with your cheeks, bro? Are you a hippopotamus? — Jay Leno is like God's version of a live action caricature. _____ Why are you all Irish? ____ Kimmel— what kind of bird are you? —- . —- I've heard exchanging insults is like foreplay for comedians; now I'm genuinely starting to wonder how many of these specials have turned over into orgies. I always had a special feeling about Justin Bieber and Martha Stewart. I'm pretty sure we all did. Mama had a shotgun— And daddy hated broken glass I drink out of broken bottles Clasps slip from the hands That can't Grab Shit you're too fucking tall, anyway. The only person who's actually bigger than they look on TV Fuck that. What are you, 6'10? Stay the fuck over there yeo ming. Who drew you, Disney/Pixar? How do you be in a photo from head to toe; full body in the frame and still not be in the picture? This m'fucker's a ghost. Oh look. It's everyone's favorite blow up doll. WHY DO U LOOK ASIAN? WHO TF DID UR DAD KILL IN NAM? –KOREA? EITHER WAY. YOU'RE ASIAN BRO. You seem like that kid that used to walk up on his tiiiy toes and shit. You're weird, bro. That kid that used to walk up— —like this— That's that guy. Devil can't catch me if I don't sit still Still love Run around the world Ring around the Rosie I'm not broke, I jus got. Photo shoot coming up Hang up yo on the fence, Like paint I dry, Simi dinner hard Try hard see the light, go To the light now Go now, my time has come m Go where, how? It's time now for me to depart, my dear Ishii. Why—how?! Because, my boy—the time has come Time not what is! Time be us, you and I! And as we are, my dear boy. I must go. Time nothing but mind is you and I… You are right. Time — is— time. Ishii begins to cry softly, and then weep. Fair for fair and follow for follow— There not are I, And away we went, With wind and time, And the way was one The inside of a year, As the waking of dawn. At dawn, I strike— But was not called To weep, I wake, the tire of tale And yet the sun was in my heart, Yet not in my mind as the sky, And not in the time as the wind, and still, mi follow to love again I always call, And there, the wind where wind does lie, Not I, awake, but I instead as Sunset Again as time had sat upon my should And like bird does cry, The still be wind has shattered my love And in heart lives in such such dusk As pain, my heart, The wicked beauty, Shadowed and stranded Yet I awaken, And here ye, The vow dost took is not aligned— There I was, the call of once The statuesque and haunting Bleeding dry the river's way And almost as such there though of tears With yet had formed all shallow, and none The call of ways I mask misfortunes, There does bear a truth to the tree which bears fruit And give way to time, I am as oceans, Still as steady water's sky, and come what may Of all we have, There nothing lost, And there were fortunes True to shine as gold, And there in no way, Under us. Wax does melt but has not burned, As shadowtimes had set upon us, There, the call was made, and yes The wind had sat upon the waking dawn of eye And there, again the warrior ready for none other than the song of I, The cry of war, does wait unsettled in her wailing As their call had come As of naught, And then came, As does one. Be fair. Daggers! I rot. “Be fair”, says he. Daggers. I rot! Be fair, says I. Nay, The King. True, tis I. —and daggars! I rot. Wary. I find. So then, To have walked among the living and yet are dead— still you, waiting in quarry, Are now I not as King, As though now dost lie slain. Very. A greeting! Seeing now how such has i, Have passed and still yet waiting in how l My waking This fucker just won't die! Well, he can't. He can! (He should.) He has. Oh. Are you triggered. I knew I just have been getting somewhat important Somewhat. I figured this out when they started having people show up after I get to the gym. I knew they were all the same like people, cause for the the most part, they weren't working out, they would just like, align themselves with me, do a few pumps and then do whatever on their phones This one dude came in, and I was already sick of being followed Hadn't been to the gym in a few days cause these people just fucking bother me. Just fucking blows my mind how stupid people are— And I realized something really wrong with people. Like people are really fucked up inthe head, so, This is what I did, when I realized, they weren't going to stop fucking with me in a certain way, I started fucking with them back. I went upstairs to work out, started doing circuits. Did some pumps up stairs, Run the stairs like laps, Hit the tension machine, Kettlebells, Treadmill, then another circuit— {Enter The Multiverse} And I knew whoever was sending these people We're focused on fucking me up; Cause the people they sent were always like— Some kind of trigger. I knew it was some high level programming; They would send like a pretty girl with long hair To fuck me up Or some fat ugly dude who looked like my ex husband, Fat and shit, And they wouldn't workout much, they would just like, fuck around, then hit the phone— And I realized people were really fucking sick In the head, when I realized, After I psyched the fuck out of this fat dude Just fucking running circles around him and shit, Lifting more than he was struggling to fucking lift This dude is all upper body No fucking cardio No fucking legs Weak dick motherfucker. And I realized how sick people were when he goes up stairs And this is how else I know people are fucking with me They'll always get on the phone, And use their phones as intimidation and shit “Hi, yeah, yeah— I'm checking in. I'm a pussy ass robot and shit. Okay. Bye now. Wait—did you hit my cashapp yet? Okay thanks” How you know it's like an app or some shit. Fucking drones, man. But I could tell they were sick and I was somewhere in my way to wellness when, the dude left, then goes upstairs and gets on the phone, and I'm still downstairs and I'm like “Okay, since they're gonna keep fucking with me—when is the end of this album?” I went to check and I knew the album was an hour long— And I look and the album is on the last track and I thought to myself “I haven't touched my phone in at least an hour…” This dude has been in the gym for half the time and has almost not been off the phone He was on the phone more than working out And that's when I realized, Whether I skip a few days at the gym or not Whether I do what everybody else is doing or not Just that alone is rare. He was in the gym maybe a half hour or less And between every single set, he's on the phone Just like all of the other people who seemed to have been following me— And I realized That maybe they weren't even following me on purpose. Maybe they were being remotely sent in my direction somehow with their phones, without their intention or knowing. That is a possibility— And I knew the world had changed in a way that could possibly become dangerous, after being told for x amount of years we needed a SIM card, I've had my phone for almost 5 years, same model; up until now we “needed” a simcard— Now all of a sudden they're letting us know in one way or another “Hey, no we've always been able to remote control your phone” They've inteoduced the “e sim” which is their subtle way of letting you know They've always been able to turn on your phone signal Without you even knowing. Now they're selling you this technology “Oh, you don't need a sim—e sim” I looked, I didn't think my phone would be clmpatible It's a 5 year old model. “Oh no—it's compatible! Congratulations” Which means even 5 years ago before this technology became consumer, They had the ability to open your phone make calls texts and connect to a network They're just now letting you know This has been around for at least a decade And now they're selling it to you. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

god tv jesus christ new york time history world trust google babies man los angeles french dj european devil er mind italian holy mom fresh hands irish ring pizza ladies nbc run jews phone mama bread calm shit hang korea shoot soft fuck coca cola disneyland weak congratulations sort justin bieber crimes bitch sim shut djs fat jam copyright correct nah lifting lemon peloton comedy central fucking mm minimal scandinavian jimmy fallon oui bleeding martha stewart jay leno cancun trader joe jelly telephone abusive hm disney pixar tiesto wax idk treadmills skrillex edc nay insomniacs prone kimmel dammit breast milk goddamn posh automatically kettlebells worthwhile simi divine comedy wary nitty gritty downtempo bookmark sauerkraut dillon francis either way marc jacobs daggers golly breads ishii edie falco on god shadowed agh nitti euh virtual riot meat circus

‘The Sad Truth'

Play Episode Listen Later Nov 28, 2024 3:22

GODDAMMIT RYAN REYNOLDS. WHAT DO YOU WANT? CUT TO: [Cofee is being made.] Oops, I Did It Again - Britney Spears [There are no pants involved.] …this is it, isn't it? What. Season 10 This is the movie before season 10 [Cofee is being enjoyed.] I want to go on high concept adventures through space and time. [There are still no pants involved.] What are you, Ryan Reynolds? A TV host? (sipping coffee) Let's just say I put in my time. —and until the seething, burning hate in your eyes returns, this conversation is over. It never left! So that's what strike force 5 does. ⚡️ Well then, this conversation is still over—because I have better shit to do. [Strike Force 4.5] Getting awesome parts in awesome movies for our friends—yes. Strike force 5–no. What do you mean ‘no' We kicked Jimmy out. Which Jimmy? Shouldn't matter. You know which. Shouldn't matter—okay— just— do the bit. What. The BIT, Ugh, alright. We meet again. Multiple actual actors are stuck in the actual world of Sesame Street, which— Admittedly, this is okay. —seems awesome at first, but after awhile… Ok. This [censored] gets deep. Not that bit! The other bit. I can't do that bit right now. What the fuck? Why not? Because, I'm not wearing pants. Did it work. FUCK YOU RYAN REYNOLDS, GODDAMMIT. So, we meet again. GET OUT. If I was a horse, I'd kick you in the face. Shit, if you were a horse, I'd kick you. And I love fucking horses. You love fucking horses?! You know what? I still might. Get over behind me and a little lower to the ground. You don't want that. No, you dont want that; I'm still holding in a fart. For four seasons? Meet me at the four seasons. For what? Because, global warming is a bitch and I want to take ironic memory photos for momentos. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE? Same thing you are. (Sips coffee) You smell like baggage and unpaid debt. The Cosmic Avenger takes off his wedding band to prepare to fight; He places it on the table, and it begins to glow and float, growing as it begins to levitate and gravitate towards his opponent, [a mysterious multidimensional alien], who stands undefeated. The ring swells to the size of a large golden halo, sitting itself atop the head of his opponent, and though momentarily caught in the midsts of being in awe, the halo drops over his opponents head and onto their shoulders, tightening into a collar around their neck—beams of light attach to the collar like chained leashes and seven dieties drag his opponent away. The Cosmic Avenger stands in confusion, before asking, …what does that mean? A DRAW! (We'll see.) Ultralight beam>< oops I did it again. But play the video, right? That, and the Rick Roll. (Courtesy of Jesus Christ The Savior, Inc.) SUNNI BLU MorGIE. What! GODDAMMIT SUNNÏ WHAT! This memo says I'm starting opposite Ryan Reynolds in an upcoming action and adventure flick. Yes, that's correct. No, it isn't, Majilla!!! Why isn't it, Sunni? I can't star opposite Ryan Reynolds. Well, why not? CAUSE I'M GAY. Lil bitz So I was listening to Kanye Weat* Yes. I was listening to Kanye West, and he's talking about cheating on Kim, Like, out loud— And I get dumb curious, so I ask Google Google, why are dudes so obsessed with models— I typed that in and hit search, and the whole thing just freezes. Even Google doesn't have a fucking answer for the intrinsic stupidity that is the hardwiring of the modern man. You ever look at like Greek sculptures, or Roman Arcitecture and realize the women aren't fucking twigs? They're not sticks! They're like muscular, and thick, and mad healthy looking. And that's weird to me. That at one point men were wired to be attracted to healthy looking women— But now the ideal for perfection is like 110 lbs and if you're anywhere between 5'1 and 5'11 that's ideal. That's nuts to me. So you're just trying to like, put your dick through the bitch!? Yes. I can actually see my 5 inch penis on the other side of this woman as I penetrate her. Good job, guys. Meet me at Equinox; The Hudson Yards Location- 7:05 Sharp. Alright. EQUINOX FITNESS. HUDSON YARDS. NEW YORK CITY. DAY Not this side, that side. What do you mean. This is the fitness section. You said Equinox… We're going to the hotel. SUNNI BLU You ever been to pound town? Weather's great right now. I ain't going outside now, I got a new strike force, Four door, 5 clowns. Ohhhhhhhh. Shout out to Jimmy O! Don't shout out to Jimmy, no He back to back too many hooooeeess— You know I'm talkin bout his show Go stream Tonight though. No thanks. Ben and Jerry's tonight doe. AHEM. Gazuntite. Listen— Ryan Reynolds is the devil. I knew it. You knew that already? Yeah. Great, so is he through with Jimmy Fallon then? Uh, I guess. That's great, I gotta go rehearse these lines. Okay? Oh and Jimmy. Yes. Find some pants. MEANWHILE. DAVID LETTERMAN MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA! That's more like it. Okay, but following up on before. THE COMIC AGENGER does not need an evil laugh. Hey, Jimmy. Mwahaha.. Damn. Okay. Look, I just found out that dude's evil laugh is actually just…his regular laugh. How do you mean? Have you ever heard Jimmy Fallon laugh? Play the clip. [JIMMY FALLON's actual laugh is terryfying and meniacal. ] You're a menace. You lost me. Whatever dog, I'll have all of you I'll ever need with AI. CUT TO: [Squirts soy sauce into Jimmy Fallon's squinty ass eyes.] AGGGHHHH. MY EYES. Quit friggin squinting. I'm not squinting! These are just my eyes! I hope you die. So. You're officially a literary genius. What are you going to do with that? I don't know? Die? Hahaha, she's Jewish! The entirety of the world of LEGENDS and enter the multiverse becomes a backdrop for Jimmy Kimmel's Latest Late Late Show Is that what it's called? I don't…give a fuck. He acts throughout the season as a literal comic relief, almost always only arriving as disaster and despair have stricken, and at the absolutely worst possible moment— AGH—MY EYES! Your squinty eyes. *also squints* AH WHAT THE [CENSORED] WHY ARE YOU STILL CENSORED?! Didn't they fire you from NBC? I'M CENSORED IN ANYTHING THAT MIGHT BE LATER SYNDICATED— [FUCK] (but censored) Is that what you're squinting at?! ITS IN MY CONTRACT, I AM NOT SQUINTING THESE ARE MY ACTUAL EYES. Fuck you, Jimmy. If I thought you had balls, I'd kick you in them right now. [EXPLITIVE] YOUR FACE. What are you, Chinese? THIS IS VERY OFFENSIVE. Hush, Yao Ming. YOURE JUST MAKING IT WORSE. Do you want any soy sauce in your noodles? This is classic ritual torture. You hush, too Billie— I need you to coconut oil the cornbread. Cornbread with noodles?! I didn't hear any complaints when I went over today's menu earlier while you two were at karaoke, almost getting along just fine. CUT TO: FLASHBACK, EARLIER I'm making noodles with cornbread, any suggestions. PSYCHO KILLER! FAH-FAH-FAH-FAH-FAH-FAH You're off pitch. I HAVE PERFECT PITCH. FA-FA You're flat. Eat a dick. Ugh. Yo, G, what's for lunch? [standing in the doorway awkwardly with a spatula] Oh, I get it— G stands for Flashback within a flashback: Tha God. I'm not calling you that. Why not? That's what you've been calling me for decades— now that I'm in a person, it makes any difference? Yeah, that person. Something's different. You don't say. It's my eyes. Something's — different. Oh, it's nothing— just the very slightest more blue. Blue, did you say? RYAN REYNOLDS (As Archer) You'll mark the hour at which it begins, With this, A solemn sustained and prolonged note Which cherishes your argument, That all art must come undone, Foraged in truth, And bound by light With sanctity. CHORUS Here here! Greetings, dear Chorus, Or have you named your honored hut—? The gathering of all bound by the Gods Who are astounded at our haste making! CHORUS To tide! To tide and fare not my good; Fare not my brethren, come cut to fire; In aught to honor thy shallow grazing, And there, the art had sunk, Though weeping cottons in the Weat, For fortune, to arch, ire. For certain, and for gathered have you waiting— Crisp air and our attire, to call tonight, The very moon to whom the stars melt, Though pacing off and appearing as none but small like, Off in the thunderous wonders of us, Beyond earth, Another path which light, And art must honor. Hear you, And faring great to those requested our service, Bone marrow, and silk wi‘d blood Forsaken, as all have heard by now, Enchantments and forced sermons, And with wit does honor I, Gasping for staging, Present but here not yet, The after wish of heart, you I does followeth, Daring to know thy name, As Kingdom come, And yet, You are not— Still dark the womb of haven't made, And saying, ‘Are I not of my father and mother, Or neither?' To honor once at dusk, my own coming as one And at dawn, my own night in the wake in death of days, Sure to end for not I wake, as fair health does hold My farewells and yonder says, Oh how I, And are you— The game at hand. And now, our honor. SEAN EVANS (As Tallymaede) —Bur first, we feast. [The chorus cheers with great elation.] Who the fuck ordered Greek Theatre cold opens? Jesus Christ, party of 1. I don't know. ‍♀️ I was fasting. I meant— ahem— Party of three. LEGENDS {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

[My First Stand-Up.]

Play Episode Listen Later Nov 28, 2024 9:09

What is your preshow ritual, anyway? I stand on one of the high floors, up here– Yeah– And I shoot snot at the tourists. What? Gross. Fascinating. Straight out of my nose. Ah, God, man. You need help. And into the plaza. Sick. Gross. Before every show. [beat] You know, some of those tourists are in your audience. Exactly. Agh. You need help, guy. You're a sick man. What goes around…comes around. Agh. I JUST GOT MY NBC MERCH. Ahh, shit, here she comes. Is she drunk. What time is it? 8:45 AM. She's wasted. Yooooooooooooooooo. What up, californians. What up Sunni. Good morning. Californians in new york, That's fucked up. Happens all the time. It is weird. Shouldn't be a thing. Wasted. You like my sweatshirt? [Saturday Night Live] It's custom. No it isn't. It's SNL. I just said that. THE ‘N' IS FOR– What did you just say? I said. NONSENSE. THIS IS NONSENSE. What. Lets take a break. __ CUT TO: I'm going to stare at this photograph until the image of you is burned into my brain. OKay. Why are we LEVITATING? And then, I'm going to incinerate it with my mind. *gasp* YOU'RE JACKED. I'M WASTED. [meanwhile, at craft services] More cocaine, please. Thank you, very much. You hold yourself together very well. I'm sorry, i'm sorry–i'm sorry–i'm sorry. What in the FUCK are you apologizing for?! I am a telepathic time traveler. I knew that already. Like, in very real life. Does this thing go both ways. [REDACTED] WHO ARE YOU? I forgot, already honestly. [The Office Style Mockumentary] I heard you were looking for Jimmy. I wasn't. He's nuts. I– [This is not a movie about] [REDACTED] I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch. I'm gonna kill him. AMY POHLER No comment. {Enter The Multiverse} Once you master the levitation, teleportation is only a very sight– Jesus Christ. Not quite. I mean. Seth Meyers. What are you doing here. I'm not. Okay. L E G E N D S Why are we levitating? We're levitating. You're just— Goddammit, what the fuck do you want? Looking for this? NO. Well, why not? Cause i dropped it; what the fuck are you doing with it? …I thought you'd be looking for it– Well, I wasn't, because I dropped it precisely where I dropped it on purpose. Why–would you drop something like this? Why wouldn't I? Isn't it the only one of its kind? Goddammit, you fucking suck at everything. I don't suck at everything… You suck at this, specifically–and this is everything. Ah fuck, i lost his cadence. I lost the cadence. I lost everything. Suddenly, i stopped writing in his cadence. It was as if, after all that time, he had simply just– Disappeared. Goddammit. Now what happened. Nothing! Dis/Connect. Disconnected. Why. What happened. The server is down. What do you mean the server is down? I'm the server. Well, it's down. WHAT IN THE FUCKKKKKK. FUCK. FUCK. Now I gotta go find Jimmy Fallon. FUCK MAN, I HATE THIS DUDE. __ FUCK THIS NIGGA. I'M SICK OF HIM. You can't say that. I JUST DID. You're lucky they even invited you back here. INVITED ME? I OWN THE NETWORK. WHAT! Sunni. SINCE WHEN. YOU CAN'T BILL COSBY ME, MOTHERFUCKER. I OWN NBC. THATS RIGHT. SUCK MY BIG BLACK DICK. Sunni! NIGGAAAAAAAAAAAA. [throws liquor bottle through jewelry store window and palms all of the diamonds on display] aaaaaahhhhhhhh — jager bomb. THAT'S NOT EVEN JAGER. Whateva. L E G E N D S Camera 1– Now, look directly in the light… I won four oscars… [for that one] I knew that if Sara was a real person–then Stefon was probably a real person, and eventually, i started to wonder, if also–Sunni Blu was a real person. Who is C'cxell Soleil? DO YOU MEAN I COULD HAVE GOTTEN 10% OFF THIS SWEATER?! AGGHGHHHH GODDAMMIT I HATE THIS MOTEHRFUCKER. Let me try. For what. It's my console. So. I got cheat codes. Let the name expire, Or the game experience spectacular levels of– disacknowledgement . At a certain point i realized that I had never heard the word ‘fuck' out of Seth Meyers' actual mouth. This is levels, man. Please explain to me this series. *shrugs* I can't. [he walked away] GOOD. I tell you, I'm not going anywhere near The Rockefeller Plaza In anything less than my awful, irrelevant, and absolutely mediocre do-not-mind-me and pay-no-attention deficit to— Maybe anything i'm saying, because believe me Tomorrow: Whatever tomorrow is, It's changing. I only came here to delay my suicide maybe by at least one day further. I could hope for a laugh, but an honest one would take better, Than all the mechanics in the world, and maybe even — Some sort of heroic gesture, On my own part, As you know, I've got to be going. Tainted. Damaged. TINA FEY He's a little bit– We think he may be, special, maybe… SUDAKIS He's retarded. Hey! No, literally. What! Come on! All thumbs. What the fuck does that mean, anyway? *two thumbs down* What is the plot of this, anyway? I don't know anymore. I'm either adding to my portfolio or my suicide letter. Pretty fancy suicide letter. (It was a pretty fancy suicide.) There's a deadline. Did you catch any of these? Hey look; I've got my own interpreter. Why are we codeswitching? We're always codeswtiching. Why aren't they codeswitching? They're the code. Who wrote this programming? If you tell me that this– Astrophysicist. Astrophysis–wait, what? I told you don't fuck with Fallon! period! Very heavy emphasis on the delay in negotiating these terms. What do you make of it? Nothing. I'm just- Nothing? That's it. He's ending me. Just like that. Just like that! Are you serious? It's his game. I'm just in it. “Pawns” This, is the most powerful man in television. Why. You'll see. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

‘The Sad Truth'

Play Episode Listen Later Nov 28, 2024 3:22

GODDAMMIT RYAN REYNOLDS. WHAT DO YOU WANT? CUT TO: [Cofee is being made.] Oops, I Did It Again - Britney Spears [There are no pants involved.] …this is it, isn't it? What. Season 10 This is the movie before season 10 [Cofee is being enjoyed.] I want to go on high concept adventures through space and time. [There are still no pants involved.] What are you, Ryan Reynolds? A TV host? (sipping coffee) Let's just say I put in my time. —and until the seething, burning hate in your eyes returns, this conversation is over. It never left! So that's what strike force 5 does. ⚡️ Well then, this conversation is still over—because I have better shit to do. [Strike Force 4.5] Getting awesome parts in awesome movies for our friends—yes. Strike force 5–no. What do you mean ‘no' We kicked Jimmy out. Which Jimmy? Shouldn't matter. You know which. Shouldn't matter—okay— just— do the bit. What. The BIT, Ugh, alright. We meet again. Multiple actual actors are stuck in the actual world of Sesame Street, which— Admittedly, this is okay. —seems awesome at first, but after awhile… Ok. This [censored] gets deep. Not that bit! The other bit. I can't do that bit right now. What the fuck? Why not? Because, I'm not wearing pants. Did it work. FUCK YOU RYAN REYNOLDS, GODDAMMIT. So, we meet again. GET OUT. If I was a horse, I'd kick you in the face. Shit, if you were a horse, I'd kick you. And I love fucking horses. You love fucking horses?! You know what? I still might. Get over behind me and a little lower to the ground. You don't want that. No, you dont want that; I'm still holding in a fart. For four seasons? Meet me at the four seasons. For what? Because, global warming is a bitch and I want to take ironic memory photos for momentos. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE? Same thing you are. (Sips coffee) You smell like baggage and unpaid debt. The Cosmic Avenger takes off his wedding band to prepare to fight; He places it on the table, and it begins to glow and float, growing as it begins to levitate and gravitate towards his opponent, [a mysterious multidimensional alien], who stands undefeated. The ring swells to the size of a large golden halo, sitting itself atop the head of his opponent, and though momentarily caught in the midsts of being in awe, the halo drops over his opponents head and onto their shoulders, tightening into a collar around their neck—beams of light attach to the collar like chained leashes and seven dieties drag his opponent away. The Cosmic Avenger stands in confusion, before asking, …what does that mean? A DRAW! (We'll see.) Ultralight beam>< oops I did it again. But play the video, right? That, and the Rick Roll. (Courtesy of Jesus Christ The Savior, Inc.) SUNNI BLU MorGIE. What! GODDAMMIT SUNNÏ WHAT! This memo says I'm starting opposite Ryan Reynolds in an upcoming action and adventure flick. Yes, that's correct. No, it isn't, Majilla!!! Why isn't it, Sunni? I can't star opposite Ryan Reynolds. Well, why not? CAUSE I'M GAY. Lil bitz So I was listening to Kanye Weat* Yes. I was listening to Kanye West, and he's talking about cheating on Kim, Like, out loud— And I get dumb curious, so I ask Google Google, why are dudes so obsessed with models— I typed that in and hit search, and the whole thing just freezes. Even Google doesn't have a fucking answer for the intrinsic stupidity that is the hardwiring of the modern man. You ever look at like Greek sculptures, or Roman Arcitecture and realize the women aren't fucking twigs? They're not sticks! They're like muscular, and thick, and mad healthy looking. And that's weird to me. That at one point men were wired to be attracted to healthy looking women— But now the ideal for perfection is like 110 lbs and if you're anywhere between 5'1 and 5'11 that's ideal. That's nuts to me. So you're just trying to like, put your dick through the bitch!? Yes. I can actually see my 5 inch penis on the other side of this woman as I penetrate her. Good job, guys. Meet me at Equinox; The Hudson Yards Location- 7:05 Sharp. Alright. EQUINOX FITNESS. HUDSON YARDS. NEW YORK CITY. DAY Not this side, that side. What do you mean. This is the fitness section. You said Equinox… We're going to the hotel. SUNNI BLU You ever been to pound town? Weather's great right now. I ain't going outside now, I got a new strike force, Four door, 5 clowns. Ohhhhhhhh. Shout out to Jimmy O! Don't shout out to Jimmy, no He back to back too many hooooeeess— You know I'm talkin bout his show Go stream Tonight though. No thanks. Ben and Jerry's tonight doe. AHEM. Gazuntite. Listen— Ryan Reynolds is the devil. I knew it. You knew that already? Yeah. Great, so is he through with Jimmy Fallon then? Uh, I guess. That's great, I gotta go rehearse these lines. Okay? Oh and Jimmy. Yes. Find some pants. MEANWHILE. DAVID LETTERMAN MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA! That's more like it. Okay, but following up on before. THE COMIC AGENGER does not need an evil laugh. Hey, Jimmy. Mwahaha.. Damn. Okay. Look, I just found out that dude's evil laugh is actually just…his regular laugh. How do you mean? Have you ever heard Jimmy Fallon laugh? Play the clip. [JIMMY FALLON's actual laugh is terryfying and meniacal. ] You're a menace. You lost me. Whatever dog, I'll have all of you I'll ever need with AI. CUT TO: [Squirts soy sauce into Jimmy Fallon's squinty ass eyes.] AGGGHHHH. MY EYES. Quit friggin squinting. I'm not squinting! These are just my eyes! I hope you die. So. You're officially a literary genius. What are you going to do with that? I don't know? Die? Hahaha, she's Jewish! The entirety of the world of LEGENDS and enter the multiverse becomes a backdrop for Jimmy Kimmel's Latest Late Late Show Is that what it's called? I don't…give a fuck. He acts throughout the season as a literal comic relief, almost always only arriving as disaster and despair have stricken, and at the absolutely worst possible moment— AGH—MY EYES! Your squinty eyes. *also squints* AH WHAT THE [CENSORED] WHY ARE YOU STILL CENSORED?! Didn't they fire you from NBC? I'M CENSORED IN ANYTHING THAT MIGHT BE LATER SYNDICATED— [FUCK] (but censored) Is that what you're squinting at?! ITS IN MY CONTRACT, I AM NOT SQUINTING THESE ARE MY ACTUAL EYES. Fuck you, Jimmy. If I thought you had balls, I'd kick you in them right now. [EXPLITIVE] YOUR FACE. What are you, Chinese? THIS IS VERY OFFENSIVE. Hush, Yao Ming. YOURE JUST MAKING IT WORSE. Do you want any soy sauce in your noodles? This is classic ritual torture. You hush, too Billie— I need you to coconut oil the cornbread. Cornbread with noodles?! I didn't hear any complaints when I went over today's menu earlier while you two were at karaoke, almost getting along just fine. CUT TO: FLASHBACK, EARLIER I'm making noodles with cornbread, any suggestions. PSYCHO KILLER! FAH-FAH-FAH-FAH-FAH-FAH You're off pitch. I HAVE PERFECT PITCH. FA-FA You're flat. Eat a dick. Ugh. Yo, G, what's for lunch? [standing in the doorway awkwardly with a spatula] Oh, I get it— G stands for Flashback within a flashback: Tha God. I'm not calling you that. Why not? That's what you've been calling me for decades— now that I'm in a person, it makes any difference? Yeah, that person. Something's different. You don't say. It's my eyes. Something's — different. Oh, it's nothing— just the very slightest more blue. Blue, did you say? RYAN REYNOLDS (As Archer) You'll mark the hour at which it begins, With this, A solemn sustained and prolonged note Which cherishes your argument, That all art must come undone, Foraged in truth, And bound by light With sanctity. CHORUS Here here! Greetings, dear Chorus, Or have you named your honored hut—? The gathering of all bound by the Gods Who are astounded at our haste making! CHORUS To tide! To tide and fare not my good; Fare not my brethren, come cut to fire; In aught to honor thy shallow grazing, And there, the art had sunk, Though weeping cottons in the Weat, For fortune, to arch, ire. For certain, and for gathered have you waiting— Crisp air and our attire, to call tonight, The very moon to whom the stars melt, Though pacing off and appearing as none but small like, Off in the thunderous wonders of us, Beyond earth, Another path which light, And art must honor. Hear you, And faring great to those requested our service, Bone marrow, and silk wi‘d blood Forsaken, as all have heard by now, Enchantments and forced sermons, And with wit does honor I, Gasping for staging, Present but here not yet, The after wish of heart, you I does followeth, Daring to know thy name, As Kingdom come, And yet, You are not— Still dark the womb of haven't made, And saying, ‘Are I not of my father and mother, Or neither?' To honor once at dusk, my own coming as one And at dawn, my own night in the wake in death of days, Sure to end for not I wake, as fair health does hold My farewells and yonder says, Oh how I, And are you— The game at hand. And now, our honor. SEAN EVANS (As Tallymaede) —Bur first, we feast. [The chorus cheers with great elation.] Who the fuck ordered Greek Theatre cold opens? Jesus Christ, party of 1. I don't know. ‍♀️ I was fasting. I meant— ahem— Party of three. LEGENDS {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

10. {The Divine Comedy}

Play Episode Listen Later Nov 28, 2024 69:50

SUNNI BLU becomes a man. I guess. Golly. You sure do seem intolerant. Are you sure you don't want a Peloton. I want to live in a white neighborhood And make enough money That my white neighbors Actually respect me For whatever it is I do. Working on a Saturday. Calm down, Jew mom. I will not clam down. In this house, we abide by holy law! Hold on. What happened. I got distracted, this girl looks just like Edie Falco. Oh, I love Edie Falco. Right? I realized how bizarre my creative process really was, in that days I would get the most work done musically, I became physically restful, and complacent, not worrying about the gym so much as the energy I would use rather towards the music I was making, or the over all lacsidasical approach I took to everything. Not being an entirely-perfect stepford- divorcee with a bleach clean everything in my median space, I realized it was almost a more natural kind of creature that created my music; one who ate and acted normally, and was overall less of an anally retentive bitch—not to say that my normal self was not an anally retire bitch, I was, but it was that my creative process seemed to require more normalcy and averageness; eating regularly, What the fuck man. Idk. I got bored The wheels start turning The pages in my mind become phenomenon, I almost bought it I almost bought the dream; Another story arc. Trust, or don't trust? I don't know— these guys are like the ultimate fluffers… MEAT CIRCUS. MEAT CIRCUS. Okay, I love them. …did she light the candle? Oh look, a candle. Hm. SHE LIT THE CANDLE. SHE LIT THE CANDLE. THEY ADDED GPS TO EDC so then. How many of us are there. Hey. Everybody sit the fuck down, right now. [drones sit down] There she goes. Dammit. Why are you really this short in person? On God, because I'm really this short, irl. Skrillex. NO. Get over here for a second. Wanna go to Disneyland? On my life, I'm like in Cancun right now, but— But what? I'll catch the next flight. “The Uptopia” I thought about finagling a way to get into EDC for like 5 seconds before I remembered what it was, And that i'm a DJ And that it looks cool and all— But sounds, generally like a total nightmare. Not because it wouldn't be fun or anything- a It just wouldn't be fun— —for me. EDC part III Haven't I been to edc more than 3 times already. (Try like 30 times.) —that's enough times. THATS NOT ENOUGH TIMES GIMMIE MY BOX! DID YOU GET THE MAGNET . I GOT THE MAGNET. GET IN THE— Goddamn, dude. That's a lot of magnets. It's really not. Man, what the fuck would even happen if I fuckin actually focused on this project I don't know. I like, haven't focused on this project and it seems like, possibly, maybe I might have brokered some kind of deal that may or may not include Coca Cola and NBC. This dude might be trying to rule the world. All the dudes might be trying to rule the world, I think. Well, what if we put them all in a group together or something —seems—doable And maybe if they're not trying to kill each other, hey the end of of— Oh, look. World peace. Nice. —it. Hm. Let's just say, Altogether I give a total of actually zero fucks— Ah hah And at the end of the day, I just want some dick. How is that going to help achieve world peace, exactly. Fuck around and find out. Ladies. Here, yo. Guy, what's this. A midlife crisis waiting to happen. Oh no. Don't worry, it's almost over. My midlife crisis? No, the part before that. Jellyfishing. I don't know, Patrick, seems like kind of a strange day to go jellyfishing. Just—relax. Jesus Christ. (Soft telephone voice) This is the messiah speaking. Uh…hi. How may I direct your call? Uh… Hello. …is your dad home? Euh…probably not, but I can get you my mom. …that might work. Okay, hold on. (Not telephone voice—actually atrocious Boston accent) MAAAAA. …Jesus Christ. What? TELEPHONE. ring ring. Bitch! Ring ring ring! —bitch! Ring ring ring. —BITCH! Yo! What!! Answer the phone. The phone is ringing! Why do you keep saying “bitch”?! Cause that's a bitch ass telephone, bitch! This is improv! I know! And the first rule of improv is to not saying no, but I refuse to answer a telephone that just says “ring, ring”; that is not a realistic telephone, and so to that, I would just say—“bitch.” Bitch. That is not how improv works. I'ma aim at your head; you technically lost the game already stopping the scene; you said “ring-ring” I said “bitch”; you lost already, I done my part. What? Just—if you're gonna be a phone, be a phone, but don't just say “ring-ring” like that Take me all out of character and shit. What character?! All you said is “bitch!” And all you said was “ring-ring”, hoe—I ain't got time for this— What?! Just be a phone! THAT WAS A PHONE. What phone says ring-ring? Phone ring tone “Ring-ring!” What's that. That's my new ringtone. You're so lame. Well at least we got past the 90's and were clearly into the early two thousands. How do you know? That guy has a ringtone. Who is that guy, anyway—? wait a second! Oh shit. That's him! Get em! Ah, are we bringing back the Italians? I don't think they ever left, they've just been quiet. I want pizza. You're in luck. Goddamn kid! Pizza?! French fries. —I want chocolate cake. AND chocolate cake! Goddamn. You'd better be crafting a goddamn symphony. It's more of like a sonata. “The King Suite” Whatever! Just remember however far you get writing this album is how much more gym time it'll take to be taken seriously promoting it. I'm already promoting it. What, how? LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA DAY. welcome back, kid. Shut up; give me a house. Give me a house song! Okay. OKAY, now downtempo. Downtempo makes me sleepy— but whatever, here. Okay, now techno. Untz-untz—here you are. All it took me was seeing Tiesto's ancient ass plastered all over the place in Brooklyn to realize I don't think it'll ever be “too late” to be a DJ and perhaps I could stand to focus on my other masteries. Whatever. I want chocolate cake . You are gonna get so fat. So? So is she when she pops out three kids— And her music sucks. Sauciness is relative. It sounds like shit in a fucking sandwhich. Just remember tiestos wife is actually like a decade younger than you. Great. I'm looking forward to all my favorite DJ's cradle robbing fashion week for this exact fucking reason. Is that a dig on one of the most legendary dance music DJs of our time? No, it's more of another pondering as to why I wasn't born a 9 foot tall porcelain skin blonde European looking model. I must have done something wrong in a previous existence. Have you tried paddle boarding? That seems /lame Fun! If I start now, maybe by May I can be EDC fit. What's the point of being EDC fit and not going to EDC? Hm. Okay. I can get a peloton, Or EDC tickets— Which should it actually be? What's the point of having a peloton If you're not going to EDC. Correct. But also— Why bother going to EDC at all if you're not going to be mad ripped from riding a peloton all day in your apartment. Also facts. That's what I'm here for Suddenly, I was acting weird. [being weird] Well, weirder than usual. Suddenly, my mind was racing— I was running around my apartment frantically in a halter top that I was certain I looked fabulous in— [looking at least kind of fabulous] — lil bitz. I'm getting to the age where I haven't quite given up, But realizing I'm not going to be the ideal just kind of sits with me in little ways. I haven't let go of myself, I'm not all the way giving up, but I'm more like, settled and secure with myself. A little more self confident in knowing if I wanted just any old dude, I can go out and get one. But I've been saving myself for someone really special. I mean really. And it's been years since I had sex. Actual years, so like— I'm at the point where I can just keep waiting, But sometimes I realize how long it's been, For instance, when I'm shopping, And I'm just kind of, looking around online Figuring out exactly what I want— And I'm scrolling, looking at all the selections And I see this baguette— Like bread, guys. Like a French roll and I think to myself “I'll take that.” I'm getting kind of turned on just looking at it, like Realizing it's bread— I'm like “Ooh, look at this baguette… Oui oui.” lol the fuck is wrong with you. Honestly I'm just looking for vegan chocolate cake without having to make it. Are we a team? …uhhh… kinda depends on who is “we” But since I can hear you faintly in my head, I guess so. Suddenly, I had the feeling that I had written something recently that might at some point become important. Hey. What. I like your five year plan. What fucking five year plan. The one from five years ago. Oh. Wait—what. Let's make it an 8 year plan. You mean 8 years from…from 5 years ago? See, you are good at math. —I—wait, what plan. Okay [chuckles awkwardly] See you later. What. Man, why do like half the characters in this show look and sound like Dillon Francis. Cause they're Dillon Francis. Might as well be. I had also has realized at a certain point recently that I would probably never get married again, and in my own right had set out to be “The Ultimate Lover!” Get out of here, Skrillex. What in the fuck is with that dude. What's wrong with him anyway. Something. Get out. FUCK, HE'S DEAD. Oh well. Not oh well! Someone's definitely gonna be upset about his. Probably! But that's an entirely seperate demographic. We can't be concerned with that. Not our business, The man is dead! You don't know, maybe he's just in A k-hole! [super duper dead] Whatever man. Just— Can you at least give me a hand with his legs. He's heavy. How can he be taller than he looks on TV— Goddamn, he wreaks! He hasn't even been dead long enough for that. I know, he just wreaks, man. Whatever. Look. Just— Ugh— Let's roll him into that tent over there. What. Just roll him in-/ Agh. And hurry up— Virtual Riot is about to start. Goddamn. The wooks. These aren't any ordinary wooks. They're frat boys Oh, that headdress, though. You remember the headdress! I remember the everything, I'm just— trying to forget. Crimes. Or at least—pretending to. You remember David after the dentist? [David after the dentist] AAAAAGAAGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH Well, this is James after The Jam. Mm. What kind Of Jam is this! It's—Jelly. Ah. You're dead. It's—really good. You know what— This is Sauerkraut. Happy accidents is getting weird. Man. I like it. Untz untz untz I just found this out, and I'm over the moon like exactic about this— I just found out you can like, totally buy 5 lbs of marijuana Over the internet. For what? I don't know. Sounds like a deal. Sign me up. Anyway, I found this out— Because I found this bread I like Yes— I know Bread to marijuana We are—making connections— Anyway, I found this bread I like From this one place, And I love this place so much That I begin buying this bread regularly— I love it so much that, I'm looking through all their breads in their bakery and I realize, “Holy shit—they just have the most insane bakery, ever.” Like all the breads are sounding phenomenal— They're real bread— Most bread if it's real bread is vegan, So I'm looking through the bread like, “Holy shit, this all sounds fire—“ And when I like a place a lot— Especially in New York, I get weird about it. Like, I want to know the origins of the place. I love history— History—cannabis—and bread, I know. “Whose the lucky guy?!” lol. Nobody, obviously— if this is my life; but I digress. I'm looking at all these breads, All these artisanal, like— Fresh cakes and, Really unique like, Breads of every kind— And I start thinking to myself “I love this place.” “I love this place” So I start thinking about like the origins of this place— You know like, historically— Like, Sometimes you find cool stuff out about a place Macy's or whatever, Has cool history— Like the oldest surviving wooden escalator Being at the flagship department store in midtown Stuff like that. I love history— So I go to look up this place— I type this place into the search bar with absolutely no other specifications than I think, The name— And the first link that comes up Is a fire sale of 5 pounds of “hemp flower” But from the picture I can see that it's evidently really Complete marijuana— Actual cannabis flower; So I look into this matter, and I investigate this link a little further to figure out— “What is this?” And as it turns out, my suspicions are correct, You can now obtain large quantities of marijuana Via a Google search— By complete accident. I'm like, “Woah!” [Bookmark the page and shit.] “Keep that in there for later…” You know, just in case I ever have $2,200 dollars roughly of disposable income and ever feel like upstarting my very own drug enterprise… Er, restarting— But the drug enterprise I had in college was nothing like this— This is next level. Its the internet age now, buddy! Shit is legitimate. Wait, sorry— is the statute of limitations up yet? Whatever. Leave no trace. There—are bigger fish to fry. lol. Bread, man. I love bread. You make me mad, But I'm still in love with you; You might be far, but I'm still in love with you You might do bad, but I'm still in love with you Come back to bed; You know I'm still in love with you You make me mad, But I'm still in love with you; You might be far, but I'm still in love with you You might do bad, but I'm still in love with you Come back to bed; You know I'm still in love with you Doesn't matter (You know I'm still in love with you) Cause it doesn't matter (You know I'm still in love with you It doesn't matter (You know I'm still in love with you) I'm still in love with you— You know I'm still in love with you. You know what— Huh— Does lemon raspberry sound better or like, This caramel toffee? You know I love a good lemon ice cream— Lemon custard Posh. Ah, the hedons are back. /*herons (You know Insomniac's making their rounds. ) Getdamoney Getdamoney getda— Woah— hold up, what is this I don't know Looks lucrative Facts Hmmm— Worthwhile investment, perhaps Maybe, maybe Very well Getdamoney Getdamoney Getdamoney Take a look at this young buck, they said. So I did. Turns out, the jokes on me. Me, and all my old friends In all my old lives On all my old world Play games In other words, The world goes on, Then off, Then it goes on, We come home— To laugh with one another Me and my friends, We play games Out of body Mind games In the body Play lives, All for entertainment In the old world, We said “One” Off we run, I said So on, comes dawn again We all talk of old reunion. We all talk of— FUCK, man. It's non dairy. I don't give a fuck about your ice cream! We're all on ice cream. I don't give a fuck about ice cream! On, you don't. No! Alright. Done. You know, it's like one door opens— Another door closes; And that's true— But whatever fucking weird drone robots They're probably paying to just come in one door And out the other Are karma cannons— And by that I mean— Whatever's disturbing me; Will eventually disturb them— And maybe, just maybe— In the same annoying way. So one day somebody wakes up and writes an anthology saga about you. It's not about you, it's about me— That's what I said. And that's probably what happened anyway—is what I'm thinking—and either way, I'm just the protagonist of that series, anyway. That's—logical, I'm thinking. I'm also thinking. Man. It feels so good to just sit in silence. Yeah. It does. Didn't you want kids? Whatever. Abusive relationships suck. My version of our kid is hands down way better then your version of our kid. Hands down. Let's get down to the nitti grotti of things here. Nitty Gritty. 11:30. But that's when Tranwrexk is playing. Who the fuck is teaintwrext. No, it's. Whatever. Nitti gritti Okay, so I'm obviously like, not going to forget the lady beating the shit out of her dog at the Trader Joe's— But I think maybe even the best part about it was the fact that it was like, a pug. I'm not really ready to go out in public or anything-1 I don't know— I'm like traumatized by the disparity of the human race, or whatever. But shout out to the lady beating the shit out of her dog at the Trader Joe's. I don't know what he did. But if you're gonna beat your pug at the Trader Joe's, he probably deserved it. Goddamn you Marc Jacobs! This is what you get for leaving a puddle in produce section! Goddammit! What else are you gonna name a purebred pug that you take everywhere with you— Including Trader Joe's? “This is Marc Jacobs” We thought he was a puggle but it turns out he was a purebreed and we just got so lucky! He gets nervous around people— Sometimes especially at the Trader Joe's He just gets so excited! Bad Marx Jacobs! BAD! On another note why am I just not automatically genetically built like a 6'5 Scandinavian chick. Like, it's cool my legs don't grow any hair at all, but goddamnit I would rather walk fashion week and just— Automatically never be hungry. Imagine giving birth to a supermodel baby and just Here, baby— take this The baby is like: *milks for two seconds* Alright, I'm good. Are you sure, baby. The baby's like “I'm— all full” Are you sure? Baby's like yeah— put me on the treadmill for an hour, would you? I gotta go fast-crawl this all off. Breastmilk, whew. Heavy shit. Just set the incline to all the way up, alright— And make sure I turn up the propane pig to high volume I want to make sure I'm deaf in one ear And only have one brain cell I don't want them to think I talk to much. Mom's like, “Um, okay— are you sure you don't just want like, more breastmilk” Baby's like “No ma, put me on the treadmill and shut the fuck yo you fat cow!” Goddammit, alright. That's— Some kids are just born destined to be— whatever— you know? Me? I was destined to like food, but be pretty much allergic to it— Pretty much allergic to all of it. Not in the typical sense of like having a food allergy— Not getting hives or anything Just— Prone to max weight gain after minimal, regular fucking eating— Minimal fucking eating And maximum effort in the gym just equals More muscle Which, then, The excess fat will just sit on top of Sort of like— Just double fucking bad. It's insane. So that's two waist trainers Correct Two sauna suits Oh my God, what if he's actually 6'3? Who's 6'3?! Getawayfromme. Shoot that nigga. You have a nice double chin. Thanks, I got it myself Liz Nice. Comedy Central presents: roast of the hosts The comics of late night tv roast each other l HOw many jokes do I need? A lot. Let's start with the favorite Favorite? Nah. Jimmy Fallon looks constpated. Every time I see that dude, I'm like— —?! What's wrong with him. Also— Why do you look like the off brand version of Justin long? I smell a conspiracy. And aspercreme. What's up with your cheeks, bro? Are you a hippopotamus? — Jay Leno is like God's version of a live action caricature. _____ Why are you all Irish? ____ Kimmel— what kind of bird are you? —- . —- I've heard exchanging insults is like foreplay for comedians; now I'm genuinely starting to wonder how many of these specials have turned over into orgies. I always had a special feeling about Justin Bieber and Martha Stewart. I'm pretty sure we all did. Mama had a shotgun— And daddy hated broken glass I drink out of broken bottles Clasps slip from the hands That can't Grab Shit you're too fucking tall, anyway. The only person who's actually bigger than they look on TV Fuck that. What are you, 6'10? Stay the fuck over there yeo ming. Who drew you, Disney/Pixar? How do you be in a photo from head to toe; full body in the frame and still not be in the picture? This m'fucker's a ghost. Oh look. It's everyone's favorite blow up doll. WHY DO U LOOK ASIAN? WHO TF DID UR DAD KILL IN NAM? –KOREA? EITHER WAY. YOU'RE ASIAN BRO. You seem like that kid that used to walk up on his tiiiy toes and shit. You're weird, bro. That kid that used to walk up— —like this— That's that guy. Devil can't catch me if I don't sit still Still love Run around the world Ring around the Rosie I'm not broke, I jus got. Photo shoot coming up Hang up yo on the fence, Like paint I dry, Simi dinner hard Try hard see the light, go To the light now Go now, my time has come m Go where, how? It's time now for me to depart, my dear Ishii. Why—how?! Because, my boy—the time has come Time not what is! Time be us, you and I! And as we are, my dear boy. I must go. Time nothing but mind is you and I… You are right. Time — is— time. Ishii begins to cry softly, and then weep. Fair for fair and follow for follow— There not are I, And away we went, With wind and time, And the way was one The inside of a year, As the waking of dawn. At dawn, I strike— But was not called To weep, I wake, the tire of tale And yet the sun was in my heart, Yet not in my mind as the sky, And not in the time as the wind, and still, mi follow to love again I always call, And there, the wind where wind does lie, Not I, awake, but I instead as Sunset Again as time had sat upon my should And like bird does cry, The still be wind has shattered my love And in heart lives in such such dusk As pain, my heart, The wicked beauty, Shadowed and stranded Yet I awaken, And here ye, The vow dost took is not aligned— There I was, the call of once The statuesque and haunting Bleeding dry the river's way And almost as such there though of tears With yet had formed all shallow, and none The call of ways I mask misfortunes, There does bear a truth to the tree which bears fruit And give way to time, I am as oceans, Still as steady water's sky, and come what may Of all we have, There nothing lost, And there were fortunes True to shine as gold, And there in no way, Under us. Wax does melt but has not burned, As shadowtimes had set upon us, There, the call was made, and yes The wind had sat upon the waking dawn of eye And there, again the warrior ready for none other than the song of I, The cry of war, does wait unsettled in her wailing As their call had come As of naught, And then came, As does one. Be fair. Daggers! I rot. “Be fair”, says he. Daggers. I rot! Be fair, says I. Nay, The King. True, tis I. —and daggars! I rot. Wary. I find. So then, To have walked among the living and yet are dead— still you, waiting in quarry, Are now I not as King, As though now dost lie slain. Very. A greeting! Seeing now how such has i, Have passed and still yet waiting in how l My waking This fucker just won't die! Well, he can't. He can! (He should.) He has. Oh. Are you triggered. I knew I just have been getting somewhat important Somewhat. I figured this out when they started having people show up after I get to the gym. I knew they were all the same like people, cause for the the most part, they weren't working out, they would just like, align themselves with me, do a few pumps and then do whatever on their phones This one dude came in, and I was already sick of being followed Hadn't been to the gym in a few days cause these people just fucking bother me. Just fucking blows my mind how stupid people are— And I realized something really wrong with people. Like people are really fucked up inthe head, so, This is what I did, when I realized, they weren't going to stop fucking with me in a certain way, I started fucking with them back. I went upstairs to work out, started doing circuits. Did some pumps up stairs, Run the stairs like laps, Hit the tension machine, Kettlebells, Treadmill, then another circuit— {Enter The Multiverse} And I knew whoever was sending these people We're focused on fucking me up; Cause the people they sent were always like— Some kind of trigger. I knew it was some high level programming; They would send like a pretty girl with long hair To fuck me up Or some fat ugly dude who looked like my ex husband, Fat and shit, And they wouldn't workout much, they would just like, fuck around, then hit the phone— And I realized people were really fucking sick In the head, when I realized, After I psyched the fuck out of this fat dude Just fucking running circles around him and shit, Lifting more than he was struggling to fucking lift This dude is all upper body No fucking cardio No fucking legs Weak dick motherfucker. And I realized how sick people were when he goes up stairs And this is how else I know people are fucking with me They'll always get on the phone, And use their phones as intimidation and shit “Hi, yeah, yeah— I'm checking in. I'm a pussy ass robot and shit. Okay. Bye now. Wait—did you hit my cashapp yet? Okay thanks” How you know it's like an app or some shit. Fucking drones, man. But I could tell they were sick and I was somewhere in my way to wellness when, the dude left, then goes upstairs and gets on the phone, and I'm still downstairs and I'm like “Okay, since they're gonna keep fucking with me—when is the end of this album?” I went to check and I knew the album was an hour long— And I look and the album is on the last track and I thought to myself “I haven't touched my phone in at least an hour…” This dude has been in the gym for half the time and has almost not been off the phone He was on the phone more than working out And that's when I realized, Whether I skip a few days at the gym or not Whether I do what everybody else is doing or not Just that alone is rare. He was in the gym maybe a half hour or less And between every single set, he's on the phone Just like all of the other people who seemed to have been following me— And I realized That maybe they weren't even following me on purpose. Maybe they were being remotely sent in my direction somehow with their phones, without their intention or knowing. That is a possibility— And I knew the world had changed in a way that could possibly become dangerous, after being told for x amount of years we needed a SIM card, I've had my phone for almost 5 years, same model; up until now we “needed” a simcard— Now all of a sudden they're letting us know in one way or another “Hey, no we've always been able to remote control your phone” They've inteoduced the “e sim” which is their subtle way of letting you know They've always been able to turn on your phone signal Without you even knowing. Now they're selling you this technology “Oh, you don't need a sim—e sim” I looked, I didn't think my phone would be clmpatible It's a 5 year old model. “Oh no—it's compatible! Congratulations” Which means even 5 years ago before this technology became consumer, They had the ability to open your phone make calls texts and connect to a network They're just now letting you know This has been around for at least a decade And now they're selling it to you. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

god tv jesus christ new york time history world trust google babies man los angeles french dj european devil er mind italian holy mom fresh hands irish ring pizza ladies nbc run jews phone mama bread calm shit hang korea shoot soft fuck coca cola disneyland weak congratulations sort justin bieber crimes bitch sim shut djs fat jam copyright correct nah lifting lemon peloton comedy central fucking mm minimal scandinavian jimmy fallon oui bleeding martha stewart jay leno cancun trader joe jelly telephone abusive hm disney pixar tiesto wax idk treadmills skrillex edc nay insomniacs prone kimmel dammit breast milk goddamn posh automatically kettlebells worthwhile simi divine comedy wary nitty gritty downtempo bookmark sauerkraut dillon francis either way marc jacobs daggers golly breads ishii edie falco on god shadowed agh nitti euh virtual riot meat circus

[My First Stand-Up]

Play Episode Listen Later Nov 28, 2024 9:09

What is your preshow ritual, anyway? I stand on one of the high floors, up here– Yeah– And I shoot snot at the tourists. What? Gross. Fascinating. Straight out of my nose. Ah, God, man. You need help. And into the plaza. Sick. Gross. Before every show. [beat] You know, some of those tourists are in your audience. Exactly. Agh. You need help, guy. You're a sick man. What goes around…comes around. Agh. I JUST GOT MY NBC MERCH. Ahh, shit, here she comes. Is she drunk. What time is it? 8:45 AM. She's wasted. Yooooooooooooooooo. What up, californians. What up Sunni. Good morning. Californians in new york, That's fucked up. Happens all the time. It is weird. Shouldn't be a thing. Wasted. You like my sweatshirt? [Saturday Night Live] It's custom. No it isn't. It's SNL. I just said that. THE ‘N' IS FOR– What did you just say? I said. NONSENSE. THIS IS NONSENSE. What. Lets take a break. __ CUT TO: I'm going to stare at this photograph until the image of you is burned into my brain. OKay. Why are we LEVITATING? And then, I'm going to incinerate it with my mind. *gasp* YOU'RE JACKED. I'M WASTED. [meanwhile, at craft services] More cocaine, please. Thank you, very much. You hold yourself together very well. I'm sorry, i'm sorry–i'm sorry–i'm sorry. What in the FUCK are you apologizing for?! I am a telepathic time traveler. I knew that already. Like, in very real life. Does this thing go both ways. [REDACTED] WHO ARE YOU? I forgot, already honestly. [The Office Style Mockumentary] I heard you were looking for Jimmy. I wasn't. He's nuts. I– [This is not a movie about] [REDACTED] I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch. I'm gonna kill him. AMY POHLER No comment. {Enter The Multiverse} Once you master the levitation, teleportation is only a very sight– Jesus Christ. Not quite. I mean. Seth Meyers. What are you doing here. I'm not. Okay. L E G E N D S Why are we levitating? We're levitating. You're just— Goddammit, what the fuck do you want? Looking for this? NO. Well, why not? Cause i dropped it; what the fuck are you doing with it? …I thought you'd be looking for it– Well, I wasn't, because I dropped it precisely where I dropped it on purpose. Why–would you drop something like this? Why wouldn't I? Isn't it the only one of its kind? Goddammit, you fucking suck at everything. I don't suck at everything… You suck at this, specifically–and this is everything. Ah fuck, i lost his cadence. I lost the cadence. I lost everything. Suddenly, i stopped writing in his cadence. It was as if, after all that time, he had simply just– Disappeared. Goddammit. Now what happened. Nothing! Dis/Connect. Disconnected. Why. What happened. The server is down. What do you mean the server is down? I'm the server. Well, it's down. WHAT IN THE FUCKKKKKK. FUCK. FUCK. Now I gotta go find Jimmy Fallon. FUCK MAN, I HATE THIS DUDE. __ FUCK THIS NIGGA. I'M SICK OF HIM. You can't say that. I JUST DID. You're lucky they even invited you back here. INVITED ME? I OWN THE NETWORK. WHAT! Sunni. SINCE WHEN. YOU CAN'T BILL COSBY ME, MOTHERFUCKER. I OWN NBC. THATS RIGHT. SUCK MY BIG BLACK DICK. Sunni! NIGGAAAAAAAAAAAA. [throws liquor bottle through jewelry store window and palms all of the diamonds on display] aaaaaahhhhhhhh — jager bomb. THAT'S NOT EVEN JAGER. Whateva. L E G E N D S Camera 1– Now, look directly in the light… I won four oscars… [for that one] I knew that if Sara was a real person–then Stefon was probably a real person, and eventually, i started to wonder, if also–Sunni Blu was a real person. Who is C'cxell Soleil? DO YOU MEAN I COULD HAVE GOTTEN 10% OFF THIS SWEATER?! AGGHGHHHH GODDAMMIT I HATE THIS MOTEHRFUCKER. Let me try. For what. It's my console. So. I got cheat codes. Let the name expire, Or the game experience spectacular levels of– disacknowledgement . At a certain point i realized that I had never heard the word ‘fuck' out of Seth Meyers' actual mouth. This is levels, man. Please explain to me this series. *shrugs* I can't. [he walked away] GOOD. I tell you, I'm not going anywhere near The Rockefeller Plaza In anything less than my awful, irrelevant, and absolutely mediocre do-not-mind-me and pay-no-attention deficit to— Maybe anything i'm saying, because believe me Tomorrow: Whatever tomorrow is, It's changing. I only came here to delay my suicide maybe by at least one day further. I could hope for a laugh, but an honest one would take better, Than all the mechanics in the world, and maybe even — Some sort of heroic gesture, On my own part, As you know, I've got to be going. Tainted. Damaged. TINA FEY He's a little bit– We think he may be, special, maybe… SUDAKIS He's retarded. Hey! No, literally. What! Come on! All thumbs. What the fuck does that mean, anyway? *two thumbs down* What is the plot of this, anyway? I don't know anymore. I'm either adding to my portfolio or my suicide letter. Pretty fancy suicide letter. (It was a pretty fancy suicide.) There's a deadline. Did you catch any of these? Hey look; I've got my own interpreter. Why are we codeswitching? We're always codeswtiching. Why aren't they codeswitching? They're the code. Who wrote this programming? If you tell me that this– Astrophysicist. Astrophysis–wait, what? I told you don't fuck with Fallon! period! Very heavy emphasis on the delay in negotiating these terms. What do you make of it? Nothing. I'm just- Nothing? That's it. He's ending me. Just like that. Just like that! Are you serious? It's his game. I'm just in it. “Pawns” This, is the most powerful man in television. Why. You'll see. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

‘The Sad Truth'

Todo es Rock And Roll Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Nov 28, 2024 3:22

GODDAMMIT RYAN REYNOLDS. WHAT DO YOU WANT? CUT TO: [Cofee is being made.] Oops, I Did It Again - Britney Spears [There are no pants involved.] …this is it, isn't it? What. Season 10 This is the movie before season 10 [Cofee is being enjoyed.] I want to go on high concept adventures through space and time. [There are still no pants involved.] What are you, Ryan Reynolds? A TV host? (sipping coffee) Let's just say I put in my time. —and until the seething, burning hate in your eyes returns, this conversation is over. It never left! So that's what strike force 5 does. ⚡️ Well then, this conversation is still over—because I have better shit to do. [Strike Force 4.5] Getting awesome parts in awesome movies for our friends—yes. Strike force 5–no. What do you mean ‘no' We kicked Jimmy out. Which Jimmy? Shouldn't matter. You know which. Shouldn't matter—okay— just— do the bit. What. The BIT, Ugh, alright. We meet again. Multiple actual actors are stuck in the actual world of Sesame Street, which— Admittedly, this is okay. —seems awesome at first, but after awhile… Ok. This [censored] gets deep. Not that bit! The other bit. I can't do that bit right now. What the fuck? Why not? Because, I'm not wearing pants. Did it work. FUCK YOU RYAN REYNOLDS, GODDAMMIT. So, we meet again. GET OUT. If I was a horse, I'd kick you in the face. Shit, if you were a horse, I'd kick you. And I love fucking horses. You love fucking horses?! You know what? I still might. Get over behind me and a little lower to the ground. You don't want that. No, you dont want that; I'm still holding in a fart. For four seasons? Meet me at the four seasons. For what? Because, global warming is a bitch and I want to take ironic memory photos for momentos. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE? Same thing you are. (Sips coffee) You smell like baggage and unpaid debt. The Cosmic Avenger takes off his wedding band to prepare to fight; He places it on the table, and it begins to glow and float, growing as it begins to levitate and gravitate towards his opponent, [a mysterious multidimensional alien], who stands undefeated. The ring swells to the size of a large golden halo, sitting itself atop the head of his opponent, and though momentarily caught in the midsts of being in awe, the halo drops over his opponents head and onto their shoulders, tightening into a collar around their neck—beams of light attach to the collar like chained leashes and seven dieties drag his opponent away. The Cosmic Avenger stands in confusion, before asking, …what does that mean? A DRAW! (We'll see.) Ultralight beam>< oops I did it again. But play the video, right? That, and the Rick Roll. (Courtesy of Jesus Christ The Savior, Inc.) SUNNI BLU MorGIE. What! GODDAMMIT SUNNÏ WHAT! This memo says I'm starting opposite Ryan Reynolds in an upcoming action and adventure flick. Yes, that's correct. No, it isn't, Majilla!!! Why isn't it, Sunni? I can't star opposite Ryan Reynolds. Well, why not? CAUSE I'M GAY. Lil bitz So I was listening to Kanye Weat* Yes. I was listening to Kanye West, and he's talking about cheating on Kim, Like, out loud— And I get dumb curious, so I ask Google Google, why are dudes so obsessed with models— I typed that in and hit search, and the whole thing just freezes. Even Google doesn't have a fucking answer for the intrinsic stupidity that is the hardwiring of the modern man. You ever look at like Greek sculptures, or Roman Arcitecture and realize the women aren't fucking twigs? They're not sticks! They're like muscular, and thick, and mad healthy looking. And that's weird to me. That at one point men were wired to be attracted to healthy looking women— But now the ideal for perfection is like 110 lbs and if you're anywhere between 5'1 and 5'11 that's ideal. That's nuts to me. So you're just trying to like, put your dick through the bitch!? Yes. I can actually see my 5 inch penis on the other side of this woman as I penetrate her. Good job, guys. Meet me at Equinox; The Hudson Yards Location- 7:05 Sharp. Alright. EQUINOX FITNESS. HUDSON YARDS. NEW YORK CITY. DAY Not this side, that side. What do you mean. This is the fitness section. You said Equinox… We're going to the hotel. SUNNI BLU You ever been to pound town? Weather's great right now. I ain't going outside now, I got a new strike force, Four door, 5 clowns. Ohhhhhhhh. Shout out to Jimmy O! Don't shout out to Jimmy, no He back to back too many hooooeeess— You know I'm talkin bout his show Go stream Tonight though. No thanks. Ben and Jerry's tonight doe. AHEM. Gazuntite. Listen— Ryan Reynolds is the devil. I knew it. You knew that already? Yeah. Great, so is he through with Jimmy Fallon then? Uh, I guess. That's great, I gotta go rehearse these lines. Okay? Oh and Jimmy. Yes. Find some pants. MEANWHILE. DAVID LETTERMAN MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA! That's more like it. Okay, but following up on before. THE COMIC AGENGER does not need an evil laugh. Hey, Jimmy. Mwahaha.. Damn. Okay. Look, I just found out that dude's evil laugh is actually just…his regular laugh. How do you mean? Have you ever heard Jimmy Fallon laugh? Play the clip. [JIMMY FALLON's actual laugh is terryfying and meniacal. ] You're a menace. You lost me. Whatever dog, I'll have all of you I'll ever need with AI. CUT TO: [Squirts soy sauce into Jimmy Fallon's squinty ass eyes.] AGGGHHHH. MY EYES. Quit friggin squinting. I'm not squinting! These are just my eyes! I hope you die. So. You're officially a literary genius. What are you going to do with that? I don't know? Die? Hahaha, she's Jewish! The entirety of the world of LEGENDS and enter the multiverse becomes a backdrop for Jimmy Kimmel's Latest Late Late Show Is that what it's called? I don't…give a fuck. He acts throughout the season as a literal comic relief, almost always only arriving as disaster and despair have stricken, and at the absolutely worst possible moment— AGH—MY EYES! Your squinty eyes. *also squints* AH WHAT THE [CENSORED] WHY ARE YOU STILL CENSORED?! Didn't they fire you from NBC? I'M CENSORED IN ANYTHING THAT MIGHT BE LATER SYNDICATED— [FUCK] (but censored) Is that what you're squinting at?! ITS IN MY CONTRACT, I AM NOT SQUINTING THESE ARE MY ACTUAL EYES. Fuck you, Jimmy. If I thought you had balls, I'd kick you in them right now. [EXPLITIVE] YOUR FACE. What are you, Chinese? THIS IS VERY OFFENSIVE. Hush, Yao Ming. YOURE JUST MAKING IT WORSE. Do you want any soy sauce in your noodles? This is classic ritual torture. You hush, too Billie— I need you to coconut oil the cornbread. Cornbread with noodles?! I didn't hear any complaints when I went over today's menu earlier while you two were at karaoke, almost getting along just fine. CUT TO: FLASHBACK, EARLIER I'm making noodles with cornbread, any suggestions. PSYCHO KILLER! FAH-FAH-FAH-FAH-FAH-FAH You're off pitch. I HAVE PERFECT PITCH. FA-FA You're flat. Eat a dick. Ugh. Yo, G, what's for lunch? [standing in the doorway awkwardly with a spatula] Oh, I get it— G stands for Flashback within a flashback: Tha God. I'm not calling you that. Why not? That's what you've been calling me for decades— now that I'm in a person, it makes any difference? Yeah, that person. Something's different. You don't say. It's my eyes. Something's — different. Oh, it's nothing— just the very slightest more blue. Blue, did you say? RYAN REYNOLDS (As Archer) You'll mark the hour at which it begins, With this, A solemn sustained and prolonged note Which cherishes your argument, That all art must come undone, Foraged in truth, And bound by light With sanctity. CHORUS Here here! Greetings, dear Chorus, Or have you named your honored hut—? The gathering of all bound by the Gods Who are astounded at our haste making! CHORUS To tide! To tide and fare not my good; Fare not my brethren, come cut to fire; In aught to honor thy shallow grazing, And there, the art had sunk, Though weeping cottons in the Weat, For fortune, to arch, ire. For certain, and for gathered have you waiting— Crisp air and our attire, to call tonight, The very moon to whom the stars melt, Though pacing off and appearing as none but small like, Off in the thunderous wonders of us, Beyond earth, Another path which light, And art must honor. Hear you, And faring great to those requested our service, Bone marrow, and silk wi‘d blood Forsaken, as all have heard by now, Enchantments and forced sermons, And with wit does honor I, Gasping for staging, Present but here not yet, The after wish of heart, you I does followeth, Daring to know thy name, As Kingdom come, And yet, You are not— Still dark the womb of haven't made, And saying, ‘Are I not of my father and mother, Or neither?' To honor once at dusk, my own coming as one And at dawn, my own night in the wake in death of days, Sure to end for not I wake, as fair health does hold My farewells and yonder says, Oh how I, And are you— The game at hand. And now, our honor. SEAN EVANS (As Tallymaede) —Bur first, we feast. [The chorus cheers with great elation.] Who the fuck ordered Greek Theatre cold opens? Jesus Christ, party of 1. I don't know. ‍♀️ I was fasting. I meant— ahem— Party of three. LEGENDS {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

31 días de terror VIII #15- Corpse Mania (Kuei Chi-Hung, 1981)

Play Episode Listen Later Oct 15, 2024 11:39

Vamos allá de nuevo con una de terror de la Shaw Brothers, y encima de Kuei Chi-Hung, del que ya hablé el año pasado. Corpse Mania es un curioso intento de colar elementos de giallo en una peli de HK, pero no os preocupeis, encontrareis los habituales gusanos y cosas desdagradables, y en general mucha necrofilia. Agh.

terror mania viii hung corpse hk agh shaw brothers kuei

boxed.

Play Episode Listen Later Oct 11, 2024 5:17

AMY YOURE NOT THE ONLY TELEPATH HERE, YOU SONOFABITCH. —watch it. AMY (CON'D) “TELE”—MOTHERFUCKER. WE'VE ALLL BEEN ON TV. The ongoing and atrociously heavy beef between screen icons Amy Peoehler and Jimmy Fallon has raged on for years and reached its peak at an all time high; this war has waged on spanning nearly two decades and though ounlically masquerading as close friends are actually sworn enemies. Dang. This dude has a lot of enemies. Also this dude is not this dude. What. More on that later. Lorne Michaels was some sort of TV God—and though apparently so was I, I was almost certain that he wouldn't like me. MAYA TINA, YOU FUCKING SNITCH. MELISSA TROUT! TROUT! RACHEL TROUT. TINA WHAT?! What does that even mean?! MELISSA IT MEANS YOURE A TROUT. RACHEL TROUT! Kirstin Wiig rounds the corner belatedly, holding up the skirt of an oversized Quinceñera gown, revealing that she is wearing knee-high homeboy*/ cowboy style rain boots. The bottom of the dress and the boots are covered in a strange sludge— and what appears to be some sort of paper mache confetti. KIRSTIN Did I miss it? TINA Miss what?! Whay am I missing?! MAYA Oh, you missed it alright. KIRSTIN AH, SLAG! MAYA *face* {Enter The Multiverse} I just realized Kristen Shaal and Kristen Wiig are both in the impenetrable ten. ( No. I didn't just notice that. I wrote it that way.) Also, wtf is up with their shirts aa Ii It's so nobody gets us confused. Nobody is going to get you two confused. …eh. Which one are you again. IN THE OTHER DIMENSION: SHUT UP. WHAT'S MY POWER. Mindfuckery. YEAH IT IS. In the other other dimension: I'LL SEE YOU AT THE PEARLY GATES, MOTHERFUCKER. Agh. Alright. Good luck with your kite. Loser. Goddammn. Why are they so MEAN. K I've abandoned your proposal A wickedness that speaks with winds Untied hands And no spirit yet to grip, My heart has moved, And lest, The ties that bind are still bound by blood As never sold souls walk endlessly at diamond crossroads Kneeling in the eye at dawn, To sworn Did you want that to-go, or? You know what? I like that version of him. Me too, kind of Lets just leave him here We should. We can't. We should, though. All stand, for the irish; Some of us, scattered, Some of us lost, Return for the brotherhood Fight for us not, Nocturnal wonderer, For we have journeyed To warn Of her surplus –I do type faster with my thumbs. Marvelous. Move, mistress, I Yield ye steady truth for seized upon the wicked hands, The hard truths lie within the heart of golden warrior, Tongues roped with cattlebands, Simple thoughts, Punishable and forsaken {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT, INC. circa 2018- 2024 | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. boxed. Collection II - ‘antithesis' Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū The Collective Complex © | [The Festival Project ™]

Mad Men. (Commentary)

Play Episode Listen Later Oct 6, 2024 68:05

When he hits you,—find a safe place; take all of your valuables quietly, and report your injuries to multiple. Agencies of authorities; keep the incident well documented, and do not let much time pass between this incident and its report. When he cheats; or you suspect him of cheating, do not confront him; do not look for further evidence. Simply walk away quietly, and do not return; do not give him the opportunity to convince you of anything beyond what you already know; the love you still may have left for him will blind you. Forgive him, but do not return to him: he will only learn better how to evade you, and take advantage of your willingness to forgive or reconcile: he will only alter your mind to believe that his actions were justified, when they were not. Do not stay in contact, as friends, or otherwise; if you work together, find a new job Do not argue or provoke him; keep his pride and ego intact by allowing him to believe he is right, and quietly exit the relationship. One argument is enough. Just break up. Do not stoop to any level below oneself to play mind games, cheat back, or seek vengeance—do not try to persuade friends and family one way or another; make a new life, with new friends—leave him out of it. Walk away. Say nothing. Man lives in a world in which he believes is his own, and yet still ponders on what woman only knows naturally and intrinsically—man's true fault is to believe that it is he from which he henceforth came, however—the toxic society from which in this sense of ‘knowledge' has been built, a society which has exceeded its forecedul oppression has nearly now halted the evolutionary potential of not only the human species, but of most the species known to inhabit the planet earth, as man takes not his ideology of destruction and consummation from nature, but from the darkness and void of confusion created from within, the separation of woman from his own self in the dissolution that the body portrays its own value by the perception of beauty, which marks his endeavors of perfection through material wealth, no such which has substance to any creature dwelling with higher consciousness and ability to change and create without the infliction of pain, in resistance to what itself Love is. What is Love? Love is God and therefore all things which make new upon themselfs to enforce change without limit, restriction, or the separation of ones oneself from all that is, was, or has become An energetic entity which has yet to be understood, as with such understanding, it becomes again as something new and unrecognizable to man, before he himself Men= destroy/ take/ burn love (((Spectrums))) Women= create, make love //Dynamics The imbalance in the world has become such so that almost the whole world has become blind to the truth of love, in only which man finds as a body, but not within himself, and in which women only finds in survival, within herself but bound to the will of man to live freely, which cannot be within his reign of these cruelties and harsh misjudgments. Man only finds value in that which he sees as aesthetically beautiful, which has harmed and entrapped the souls of those now for seen as “wicked”, encased in his blindness to love to any other thing than himself. TVP © The Complex Collective| ALL RIGHTS RESERVED SAM, often called “FAT SAM” is known by his eclectic fashion and heavy stature, and navigates deals and contracts between “the tv people”, or the network, and “the music people”— he is known for his off kilter antics, party culture conessouring, and unique charming laugh. Although a wild creature at best and the party animal of all party animals both off and sometimes even on the clock, often meeting and foreseeing the standards of his superstar clientele, he is kindhearted, honest, and brutally incredible at his job, known throughout the TV world and Music world as a hero, if not a living legend. The world was full of babies and pretty women, the trophy boys and husbands that seemed to worship them, and flock to their every aide—meanwhile, I had become quite frigid, and felt ugly amongst all things—nobody seemed to want me, and instead of wondering why, I alluded it to my features—the rich and poor in New York so horribly segregated that I might as seemed as more the latter, if not just from my skin color alone, let alone my style of dress. Other people's opinions of me, however, were less and less important by the day, and although I wanted more children, there was no settlement as to the kind of man I wanted to attract; Not just wealthy and talented, but handsome—an equation for disaster, but so long as I had my children and was kept well, I wouldn't mind. Another lazy, however arrogant and poor man was not what I needed—and there was power in the gestures of weak people around me that the world had become a hellish place for those who hadn't been given the opportunity to flourish. Am I in? What? Jennifer Aniston? Did it work?! —I—yeah— Pass. Thanks, Jim! You're the man! Watch this. Watch this. Good Shepard! My lord! Goddamn, Goddamn, Goddamn! Nice. I'm in. Fallon, I don't know how you did this but— Jimmy! You the man! What's up, Jim!!! Yo! *high fives* Yeah. [Jimmy Fallon Is Suddenly] YOU DA MAN “The Man” What in the fuck does that mean? I don't know yet. This guy is obnoxious. It appears to be some kind of magnet for something. Ooh, what is that? Lady, get out of here. Look what I found. I don't know: What is that. It says “iPod” You gotta be joshing me. Let me see that. What. What. What. What. What? … … Nothing. Nevermind. Let me back in! I can't, it's I got—- I'll give you 10 Million Ten million—what? Ten Million Dollars! For what. UGH. Fuck you, dude. F- you—dumb ass little— “Whatever, man” I had half a mind to move the alter into my studio and force myself to fall back asleep, complicit with the fact that I was two days away from spinach and whatever other vitamins I was lacking. I was so tired and sore, and had run out of multivitamins days ago. Maybe this was the lasting effect of ever having taken vitamins and then stopping, and it seemed a cruel gesture to do anything but soak, knowing over all I should walk away from the world entirely. It was beginning to feel a lot like there was no escape from the constant and persistent ask to the universe for peace, protection, and wealth—and no end to the work that had been done, but had yielded not much to prosper. I think that's the point though, so that you second guess your own judgement— That your intrinsic sense of energy Seems to have betrayed you And leaves you somewhat altered. I could have sworn she had blue eyes. She did. Maybe they change. That much?! Who knows. Maybe. One must only be bitten by a dog one good time to learn that dogs can be dangerous—and yet— I had been bitten by the blue eyed many a times and still had somehow found my way into forgiveness, if not for my own sake. Maybe she was wearing contacts. I used to. I had been thinking about investing in new colored contacts to make my eyes appear lighter, and a blonde wig to soften up the dark tan I had gotten unintentionally going about in the summer—still thought, it had been a long summer of not doing anything but going to the food bank, writing, and spinning in circles about how to make money. Long bouts of trying to shut out my old life from my new one, pushing my divorce, and becoming separated entirely from anything once having to do with my name at all. Within reason, I had suffered considerably over nothing, and despite my efforts, there seemed there was nothing I could do to find gains in my own creativity. There was only seeking and never really finding, the things I needed but none of the things I wanted. Everything I owned had been once owned by someone else, besides the few items I should have not even considered my own, but belonging to the world almost as much as I had. I was tired, consistently grief stricken, and felt unwelcome entirely by the entire world—or at least—an entire generation of people that were my own, but had learned not to respect what I had become— broke, and in turn, broken. Sometimes I want to cry like Marcy D'Arcy in the 6th season of Married With Children. I only smile when I see the color yellow and then dream of him, Seeking nothing but solace At the concourse, we converse momentarily And then go our separate ways Forever and always Forever and always Your secrets I smell like dirt And arrived in the real world Covered in blood And scraped over the, Over the knees, Yes I did Come recover then, What you've lost from the world Born in chaos, not quite But almost, as we're once swarmed the waters Keep it better quiet, now Keep it better quiet now, Keep it better quiet now, your secrets There lies no tru loyalty to bands tied On middle fingers Besides to one's own self And they who they shall Desire and claim as another Extension of God, In her Or their arms There is no claim to faith or mercy Than what comes between us, Bombshells As argued in chaos —mother, you're not listening To the call of the wild Then now, How am i bound to that besides being In sanctity The obnoxious obese man who drove the loud motorcycle up and down the street was obviously a very weak man—and he wanted the world to know it. His loud and obnoxious roaring must have overcompensated for his sloppy, fat and sagging body, which hung over the seat and sides of the motorcycle—the excessive revving of the engine must have been to let the world know that this was his power—having earned the money to ride a motorcycle; but in all other ways he was obviously lost, his slothemly and gluttonous blob of a body almost making the oversized Harley look like a play bike, his tiny penis probably covered to its top in whale blubber; he clearly had no other way to feel powerful, besides of course— being the leader of a gang of mindless peasant monkeys, who all would do anything for their own bikes—monkey see, monkey do. Perhaps his obesity to the third world unthinking drone slaves was a sign of his dominance—or they lived in fear that he would eat them. Obesity aside, it was his force of obnoxious harassment that had designated him as an obviously insufferably weak subhuman— much like a bully who dealt with his own faults by terrorizing others, such was the man with the Harley. There was nothing impressive about him besides his bike—and since he had abused that with such outright offense, even that made him look stupid. He raced his engine as if to say “look at ME! I have arrived!” But after actually glimpsing at the blob, it was hard to not laugh at it. He was hard to miss anyway, and probably should have opted for a truck or some sort of SUV to hide his intolerant and debilitating self-inflicted illness— the inability to control when and how much to eat, or how to do anything besides ride up and down the street on a motorcycle—perhaps a walk could do some good; in definite need of a jog, and a strict diet. I was embarrassed for him, and most people who weren't so obviously diseased and more in the like of self indulgent and lazy—I had once been like them, but no longer, and first and foremost I believed in respecting my neighbors, treating others as I wished to be treated. I wished to live in a quiet and safe neighborhood, but the obnoxious morbidly obese man alone was a symbol of the disastrous mark capitalism had made on the American empire—lazy, docile, greedy, potbellied idiots accounted for all too many of the world. I knew that with the desire to change, that one could change—now to force myself to believe that with the desire to succeed in something, one could succeed—I was at least trying. But the weak and uncontrolled idiots spawning from holes in the underworld and buzzing around like the pests and roaches they were reminded me that if anything, these imbiciles were decent at almost nothing but breeding other fucking idiots. Hopefully, one day my own blood would grow up to want to work out with me, eat well, and change from appearing as his weaker half— lazy, obese idiot just the same as these, however—at the very least, the roaches were fastidious. They buzzed around under the illusion that working for the American system would grant them anything besides a motorbike and some fresh looking street wear, the attention of girls too stupid to understand that 99% of men simply weren't worth wasting time with or on, and unknowing to this or their own worth, would still do it anyway, Some of the bikers had girls on the back; I always felt bad for the girl on the back of the motorcycle rather than jealous—I would rather be at the helm of the thing, riding it for myself. Then, thinking back to a time before I realized how crowded cities were, sighting that there should be laws against loud vehicles in urban areas such as this— there was at lot more open road than not in LA—highways, that is, and bikes were easy to maneuver through heavy traffic. New York was another story—congested, overpopulated, and now filled with a disease which added to its decay at a quicker rate than ever. The illegal immigration crisis was much like a rodent or insect infestation, but harder to control—one simply could not exterminate millions of actual humans, and yet, the problem was still the same— this was a disease, a pest infestation, as most of the immigrants weren't working, but simply subsisting on the taxpayers dollars they were allocated and finding ways not to work; they were parasites, many of them set to explode with more parasites. We had indeed been infiltrated, and made to pay for it, both in restlessness, and in dread. Culturally inept to most decencies as even the crudest Americans had been bred with, many although not all roamed around like feeble minded children in brand new Nike wear, munching on fast food and candy as if guests to some kind of amusement park—however, to the thoroughbred tax paying Americans, this was no amusement; it was a distressing, eye opening wake up call that something had gone terribly wrong, on the already overworked working class' time and hard earned money. It might have seemed cold and calloused to think of them as rodents—but, always observant, I also much believed in calling a duck a duck; most of them were not respectful, pushed and shoved, threw trash everywhere— and left their minor children to roam about or even put them to work, unaware of what child labor laws were; they used their unborn children as anchors to be able to stay where neither they were truly welcome or belonged, bloating the welfare system and benefitting from funds that had been laid to them with taxpayers dollars. The United States of America had its own problems, and its own citizens being overlooked, once again the needs of continually systemized blacks and other minorities falling victim to this new wave of people to care for. The capitalists had sold out the working class once and for all—the immigrants needed to go, and probably would, eventually tiring of the unattainable American dream we all had been sold, but they had been gimmicked into attempting to create— all to supplement an oncoming election. An election which really gave the people no choice at all, besides gawking, debating ignorantly about misinformation, and of course—intrinsically siding with the good old American narcissism which would force them to take the side of whoever supported who looked like them— the Latino vote was obviously an important factor—and of course the polished machismo and Latin pride of those being supplemented by the income of their friends and relatives come to stay, though unknowingly, chunks of money out of their own tax paying pockets, would vote for the most lenient immigration plans—probably the safest bet, the presidential office mere puppetry at all anymore. However, it had been obvious that the Right has set The Left up for disaster by allowing the black to have been shifted blue—though the rational explanation for the reallocated funding fell directly and logistically to the right. The Oval itself, empty and the actual control belonging to the wealthiest billionaires and corporations whose hopes of the thousands of migrants becoming their corporate slaves had mostly backfired terribly. With any hope, many of them would take what they could, and travel back below the border where life was simple, food was fresh, and without need to play the part of the facade of the American dream—no need for the material goods and fashionable street wear supplied by the American taxpayers—no need for iPhones and all of the decorations the taxpayers had supplemented for them—no need to live up to the ridiculous standards of actually being an “American”, which in reality, by now meant working so much that there was no peace, there was no rest, and there was no real freedom—and as a working class or poverty level citizen, having to compensate for everything and everyone around you, always working harder for less— and purposely being kept back and behind as the wealthy elite closed their circles tighter, shutting out the ugly, the brown and black, and those deemed unworthy out of their precious world. {Enter The Multiverse} Secret President Make the old man laugh– –make The Old Man break a sweat Make the old man dance (Make The Old Man Young Again) Make The Old Man dance, I said Wise Owl My server be your server; My proxy, thine proxy… WHOOPI GOLDBERG (as The Cosmic Owl) sits crouched over a nest of stone and earthen metals of precious kind, enchanting within the thick smoke of incense and fragrant oils, with a whispered chant, evoking with spirit and summoning with force–a spell of all spells; a worldly ritual. Her golden turban matches the embellishments; the royally fashioned robe and chains around her neck, bangles and ribbons of gold and silver draped with the hooded cape of which the grand sleeves, falling into the grand purple flowing train of the cascading draperies. Meanwhile… Come on, we don't got all day… –”we”? I don't got time! MEANWHILE, CHRISTOPHER WALKEN awaits at the corridor of an unknown marker, inside of a train station–which appears altogether to be in a different time; altogether a different place; the period of his dress appears perhaps late 1800's; his pocketwatch, which he checks sporadically–also golden. ALSO MEANWHILE So this is Casper, huh? This–yeah. The friendly ghost. Well– AGH. He used to be, anyway. Why are you not making any sense!? I asked for PROTECTION! I gave you LIGHT! That's not a protection! It's a target! What the fuck ar eyou talking about? *vampire* {instant kills vampire} *demon* {Instant kills demon} THESE THINGS EAT LIGHT. Well. I don't know how to help you. Get me out of here! I can't do that! i told u i was deadmau5, man. Wtf. wait , like, all of it? ya. shoot that nigga. LIVE: All the Niggaz is getting shooted at. EVERYONE ELSE …that was already happening, tho. WHITE SUPREMACISTS *shrugs* *drinks another bottle of coca cola* *trashes entire planet* *doesn't feel* Lol BLANG-BLANG. MEANWRHILE: DEADMAu5 NO, I'm TEsTPiLOT Whatever, dog. KILL THAT N– DEADMAU5 LOOK AT MA DIK. …ok. Wasn't there another scene after this? I dunno, I got dick-stracted. Yikes UNTIE ME. UNITY. UNITYYYYYYYYYYY. WHAT. UNTIE ME FROM THIS–THING. No, actually, I think you should stay there. The most bizzare thing happened this morning. The most bizzare thing ever, to have happened to me, ever—which is saying a lot l— but I was scratching my head, and all of a sudden, This tiny fingernail— An itty, bitty teeny-tiny fingernail, like, Dislodged itself from my soul or something— Fell out of my hair, Okay, God. What. This baby fingernail— Like, okay it could be like a newborn big toe nail or like, A one month's old like actual finger Aww, I just used to bite them. They were so little I didn't want to cut them with the clippers. Their little fingers You don't want to accidentally— You know, They're just so soft. Awws. What the fuck, God. That makes no sense. I've been primarily by myself for like—ever— And anytime I'm in public, I'm wearing a hat— My wash machine is only used by me, thank god and What the fuck does this mean? Mad Men is an American period drama TV series that aired on AMC from 2007 to 2015. The show follows the lives of the people who work at a New York advertising agency in the 1960s, and focuses on the professional and personal life of Don Draper, a talented but mysterious ad executive. {Enter The Multiverse} GET—OUT OF MY WAY. What are you doing?! MOVE. Is this a code four? Far beyond code four! Oh my! What could it be?! Move! This is a serious matter! The NBC pages are in a frenzy, pushing and shoving one another frantically, turning 30 Rockefeller plaza into an animalistic jungle of confusion and chaos. What is going on. The games—sir. The—games? The. games. Sir. I–m– afraid I don't know what you're talking about You should be afraid! Be very afraid. Because the games. What “games” The GAMES have begun. CUT TO: Seth Meyers stands in the mirror comparing two exactly identical ties— he appears to be talking to himself, asking SETH MEYERS how do you like this tie? —to no response. He uncomfortably shifts and switches to the other, exactly identical tie. Or this? Yo. What a creep. Again, to no response, he waits a moment and switches to the first, exactly identical tie, with an assertive nervousness. SETH MEYERS CONT'D You're right, the first one. Yeah. He completes tying his tie, then placing his hands in his pockets, still facing the mirror—quite enamored with himself. He leans up onto his toes and then back onto his heels, admiring himself before spinning around to face the anterior of the room; SETH MEYERS It's showtime. He points his fingers animatedly at his mock audience—now we see that the room is filled top to bottom with stuffed animals, puppets, dolls, and other strange likenesses… Hold up, i'm distracted Just stick to what you know. Most of the Saturday Night Alumni and Late Night hosts had long, noteworthy careers in comedy, hefty writing backgrounds, and tons of experience in television. I found myself out of place and grasping at straws, letting something come for a moment between myself and my sanity. I did know music—but wasn't the girl with her shit together enough to have made any kind of dent in my obviously gaping music career, with the additional workload of what may have been the work of a genius, but also a madwoman—or mad man, depending on whose essence or presence happened to take hold of my weary and feeble soul, or Distracted again [the news] (the actual news) Whatever (Wednesdays) - your weekly dose of whatever. The Audio Files (for Audiophiles and Music Producers/ Engineers) That was all I could remember off of the top of my head, not that it mattered at all, actually. I was grasping as strings and between worlds— the winner of the contest had beautiful pictures, and had played festivals—her website was flawless, and I liked her, later finding that she was Greek. I didn't seem to mind women, so long as they weren't the hateful, competitive, and typically racist—even on both sides—American type, and I scanned the list of participants that had been American to see if any of them were black women—doubtable, though in the New York scene some black women had seemingly out of nowhere taken to techno, and with that I had shifted gears to make my production more focused in bass and dubstep, if I were ever to return to my state of producing at heavy volume. I hadn't, with so much on my plate to juggle or rather spin, and I had been in quite the bubble of for whatever reason l trying to solve the puzzle of what had suddenly become what seemed like an NBC sponsored charade through the inner workings of my mind, only to find that not only was I not qualified, but also not entirely capable of doing any of the jobs I wanted to, and with that notion had settled once again comfortably in the cradle of suicide, hating everyone and everything around me—and using Tina Fey's book as an alter to light my prayer candle, all the while knowing someone had left it there—the book, along with a collection of surf themed relics, especially for me. I had been thoroughly warned about Jimmy Fallon. He was an impressive egotist—- walked amongst rightfully the elite, was highly competitive, and powerful. He was not the kind of man you tell ‘no', even if you were, like me, entirely unsure as to what the question was—his eloquence had been understated, the design of it all, unique, in a way that it all seemed to speak of a time before time— I was immovably always fond of the Greeks Lost, was the old world, Our own, Bound by candle light; Marked by wisdom, Enrichment, Cherished times, Beseeched the throne, A mask of wands, The arch of Tryerdom, I am the arms of therefore What was once, The whole of body, As a man or womankind, Seeks to know a God— They are as one, And all of us, Beyond the shroud of time, A whimsy befallen, like leaves upon us Overgrown the garden of Adam, Wrought with fruit, Which rotten lies upon the tide, So soaked with formidable ocean She or he therefore has lost The touch of truth, The seekers wisdom, All are none again, And so shall fall the empire They called us upon as ours. —in God we Trust. Amen. Fuck, man. How am I supposed to— What do you call it? —summon. Summon a fucking— What's it? God. —God…up on this fucking soundstage without the entire audience or anyone else noticing. You figure it out. How, though? What the fuck. It takes a lot of impressive achievements to get into the page program. Yeah, but . I would assume your studies in practical magic to be at the very least— —Doing what now? Adequate—if not satisfactory. You are weird. This is weird. I paid cash, and I expect results. Whatever. Now, be careful with those tablets. We wouldn't want anyone dangerous getting a hold of them. Anyone like who? {Enter The Multiverse} Do your job; I'll do mine. When we go, we go— And when we go… The man emerges from below the surface of the water, gasping for breath; as the water drips down from his hair and face, back into the water, as the splash echoes into a dull chorus of dripping, his mouth open, gaping, as if he had just awoken from a nightmare; he breathes deeply as something in him recollects before the blur of the world sets in to become a clear and crisp, colored world. We go the way we came— At once, and Alone. As if no one could know where we've just come from— Or where we must go. But we must go. “Cosmos Factory” This could be fatal. —but isn't everything. He's not breathing. Call an ambulance. nurse! Call a paramedic. The paradigm shifted as I departed one world and entered the next. In a fit of blind rage and fury, also came an excitement; I was accomplished. The man is distinguished, late 40's to early 50's, with dark, lush hair. Soon, you know, it will all be grey. It can't be. What do you mean it's ‘empty'? This is not the place! What place? This is not the place that it was! Ah, so this is Cosmos Factory. I thought that was a comedy. I was hoping it would be. Here it is. I was wondering what was in there. I'm still waiting to see what's in Mrs. Gillipsie's refrigerator. Well, keep waiting. I've got a few more chapters in this memoir and I can't be bothered with trying to figure out why Johnny Depp is the narrator in the voiceover— My God, how you've changed. Well, yes— I am a changeling. Not to mention your improvements in shapeshifting. Actually, let's not mention it. very well. Whatever, man. Tom. Is it? It should be. Whatever. Come in. Oh. What a lovely portal you have. —shut up. But the man reemerging from his practical baptismal submergence is none other than — I don't think he's capable of a role like this. He isn't—which is why I wrote it like this. You know, by the time the actual writers get their hands on this, there will be so many rewrites it will be hard to imagine or recognize you even wrote it. That's—already becoming a sort of paradoxical challenge. Of course it is. You shifters never have any idea the kind of repercussions coming, or, the endless— and I mean —endless realms— —infinite— Endless. Things are rarely infinite actually besides the things that always were, henceforth—infinite— Of course, Always having been and always will be. Got it. So. Do you understand the kind of effort it takes as a collective to have come up with a work like this? I understand the benefit of having opposable thumbs and an iPhone, You think you're smart; —when I'm thinking, at all— But you're actually a genius; that's right, without thinking at all. Have you thought about the characters you haven't yet created? There are more? The worlds you've yet to build? I've got all my money on blowing my head off before ever actually making it as a stand up comic. And I've got all mine on you blowing your head off, after you've made it as a stand up comic. Now, which is it going to be? [beat] Statistics don't lie. Actually, they do— Especially in America. North America? South America? You know as good as I know, I mean the Good old Goddamned USA. That's a lot of good old goddamned, Uncle Sam. —aha, And Sam, I am. Now, suit up as Dr. Suess and make sense of this. Nothing makes sense— If everything did, what would be the purpose? [agreeing, simultaneously] Puzzle Pieces. [a moment of solidarity] Now, pick the old man up off the ground, And get to it. He's not that old… You only say that because you're older. Let this trickle down into the body of success that I should be born at least two decades left than half a century ago. Any less and you'd be begging for some kind of pardon for all the crimes against humanity you've caused to solidify the theoretic concept of consciousness within the occult, instead of humbly accepting the consideration for an honorary doctorate at any given Alma mater whose brotherhood of trust has bonded us through this unjust monologue to seal such in blood as a relic. That's a lot of words. I have hairs on my chest. They are grey. Congratulations, Some of them silver. Is that a riddle? If it were, would there be so many puzzle pieces? I think that would take this whole thing out of balance. Manage your axis. Bid you well. Severance. “The Occult Classic” HOTDOG-HOTDOG. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. Showrunner: Matt Weiner Peggy: Elizabeth Moss

united states america god tv love music american new york trust man men americans games walk left north america forever iphone unity greek pass nbc seeking desire forgive manage latin south america fuck congratulations amen wtf latino commentary statistics bound johnny depp late night instant fell copyright covered extension amc obesity old man endless ipods casper suv whoopi goldberg seeks sir distracted mad men agencies jimmy fallon severance marked nevermind jennifer aniston everyone else my god rockefeller christopher walken culturally uncle sam tina fey bid oval white supremacists goddamn summon seth meyers enrichment suess puzzle pieces cherished don draper married with children aww tvp audio files wrought audiophiles good shepard agh overgrown

MILK.

milk instant copyright old man casper whoopi goldberg christopher walken agh

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 13, 2024 22:41

Make the old man laugh– –make The Old Man break a sweat Make the old man dance (Make The Old Man Young Again) Make The Old Man dance, I said Wise Owl My server be your server; My proxy, thine proxy… WHOOPI GOLDBERG (as The Cosmic Owl) sits crouched over a nest of stone and earthen metals of precious kind, enchanting within the thick smoke of incense and fragrant oils, with a whispered chant, evoking with spirit and summoning with force–a spell of all spells; a worldly ritual. Her golden turban matches the embellishments; the royally fashioned robe and chains around her neck, bangles and ribbons of gold and silver draped with the hooded cape of which the grand sleeves, falling into the grand purple flowing train of the cascading draperies. Meanwhile… Come on, we don't got all day… –”we”? I don't got time! MEANWHILE, CHRISTOPHER WALKEN awaits at the corridor of an unknown marker, inside of a train station–which appears altogether to be in a different time; altogether a different place; the period of his dress appears perhaps late 1800's; his pocketwatch, which he checks sporadically–also golden. ALSO MEANWHILE So this is Casper, huh? This–yeah. The friendly ghost. Well– AGH. He used to be, anyway. Why are you not making any sense!? I asked for PROTECTION! I gave you LIGHT! That's not a protection! It's a target! What the fuck ar eyou talking about? *vampire* {instant kills vampire} *demon* {Instant kills demon} THESE THINGS EAT LIGHT. Well. I don't know how to help you. Get me out of here! I can't do that! {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

EP 094: Navigating Nature Based Health In A Big Tech Dominated Culture

The Quantum Biology Collective Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 12, 2024 56:25

“There is so much more to health and vitality and wellness than the previous checklist and model that we've been given,” says today's guest Dr. Catherine Clinton. She joins the Quantum Biology Collective podcast to discuss the paradigm shift taking place across humanity as to how we view the body, the universe and our place in the latter. As a result of the pandemic, she says, people's eyes—and hearts—have been opened not only to new information but just how much that information affects our bodies but, essentially, runs them. Today she discusses quantum coherence and why the universe acts like a loving parent. Unfortunately, despite the myriad of scientific proof to support Dr. Catherine's message, because it is not wrapped in the accepted language it is often dismissed—or even censored. She talks about being thrown in “Instagram jail” for posting about structured water and being one of many who were flagged for using the hashtag #sunshine. In the bigger picture, though, she sees the quantum space as the rare space where left-brained and right-brained people find common ground and mutual support. Join today's conversation to hear Dr. Catherine reveals what actually fills the universe that was once thought to be empty and why she says we're in the middle of one of the largest chronic disease epidemics known to humankind. Quotes: “We weaponized the human body. You could get in trouble for being human. You could be in trouble for going outside and being human. It became a weapon.” (12:32 | Dr. Catherine Clinton) “Understanding that we can utilize this information of light, sound, our water within us, frequency information in the fields around us, just even this idea of being a part of this flow. It isn't a device that we get this information from, it's the world. The solar radiation coming into our environment and sending all those photons of information throughout every plant and animal and human on this planet and the more we stand in that, the more we stand in our place on this earth as humans.” (16:12 | Dr. Catherine Clinton) “It's like the unconditional love of a parent. That's how we are meant to thrive. We run to that parent, they scoop us up. Unconditional love, unconditional safety. We are where we belong. The world around us offers that, the natural world around us offers us that same embrace.” (20:01 | Dr. Catherine Clinton) “The way that information is given, too, this idea that we are energy beings, if I say that, we are energy beings, that our cellular function runs on information, our cells communicate in light and information people think, ‘Agh! Get her!'...scientists aren't censored because there's still this line of science is science and the metaphysical is not something to mix with that.”(37: 38 | Dr. Catherine Clinton) Links Quantum Biology Wellness Summit Bon Charge Discount Code: at checkout enter the code: QBC to receive 15% off https://us.boncharge.com/collections/blue-light-blocking-glasses **If you're in the US and have a Health Savings Account (HSA or FSA) BonCharge products are an eligible expense** To receive a FREE infographic of the Ideal Circadian Day & join our email list: https://www.quantumbiologycollective.com/qbc-newsletter-aqb To find a practitioner who understands quantum biology: www.quantumbiologycollective.org To see details about the Applied Quantum Certification: www.appliedquantumbiology.com Follow on Instagram & Facebook: @quantumbiologycollecitve Twitter: @quantumhealthtv Podcast production and show notes provided by HiveCast.fm

health culture navigating nature big tech unconditional dominated health savings accounts agh catherine clinton hivecast quantum biology collective qbc

james bond.

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 12, 2024 2:43

'james bond' [Instrumentals For A Higher Purpose, Collection I- 'better off dead.' - track 8] Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I heard Robin Williams was here. Very briefly, yes. How did you do that? TINA FEY Do me next! lol. (That's not how this works.) (lol.) Season 9! Closer Notes: LEGENDS- ENTER THR MULTIVERSE: LEGENDS The real Jimmy Fallon and the Actual Billie Ellish are trapped inside of each others bodies, along with their ascended counterparts, ancient alien mystics who, in search for a “missing link” extraterrestrial from a long forgotten cosmos, must search for Dammit, how am I supposed to write that. FUCK! I told you he was a magician! —I TOLD you don't fuck with that guy! I told you! Fuuuuuck! FUCK. FUHCK. Man, we're fucked. We're so fucked. Who's body is this? Ah, wait. Fuck. Dammit… Ughh. Ugghhhhh. Jim, could I see you for a moment. Oh wait a second [The Tonight Show, Starring Jimmy Fallon] Oh— Jim. Is that who I am? I Uh… I guess—? I'm Jimmy Fallon? …Sometimes. Yeah. I'm Jimmy Fallon! As far as I know. We still have to figure out how this happened , [Liz] How did you not know who I was?! We've met like 6 times! I've met everyone 6 times! I'm mad famous! I'm a genius! I'm a genius… I fucking hate my life. I want to die. Ooh. Could have been anything. Whose body is THIS? Just get in. Just get in. I—don't want to. Oh, a body's about to open up. I gotta go. —you're leaving now?! Yeah, I gotta call you back. This last minute?! It's like a budget-fare-hopper thing. But *click* lol I love how these aliens are using like —like old times telephones. You should see their existence. It's wild. Why even use telephones as telepaths. They're like relics. I promise, I did not mean to hurt you. —I promise, I hurt myself worse. For the record, that little old Englishman that lives inside of (Everyone) —is something wrong with you. A lot. This body used to belong to “Tha Supacree?!” I LOVE that show. What “show” —tis a show. It's a show on my home planet… And what planet is this? You will never know. [Unfamous] Ugh. Now the magical negroes thing makes sense. Have you seen the president of peacock? Have you seen the president of my balls? Have you seen the president? What? For real. She's missing. Are you serio— Yes. You're secret service! I'm just as disappointed as you are. You're so fired. I'm pretty sure only the president can do that. THATS why they sent you. That's it, yes! TO BREAK MY HEART? Cause it sings… “CAUSE IT SINGS?!” —it's supposed to… Look, f-[censored] Jesus Christ. The only thing. you're gonna get from breaking my heart—is [COMPLETELY INCOHERENT SCREAMO EMO ROCK MUSIC.] lol I think I got my written WALKEN impression down. —ACES. What? I got— Goddammit. Four—Aces. Goddammit!! Dammit! Who let him in?! It's multidimensional poker. Nobody “let” him in. —I just— He just VOILA! Appears. Dammit. “Voila.” Huh. I wrote that ages ago, Do you remember what it was about? No. Doesn't matter anyway, we're not gonna find it in here. Let's keep moving. — Supacree? No. I'm not supacree. The THIS IS THE BEST SHIW EVER. I know, I love it. We have to find the original supacree! We must! You are the supacree The supacree —no. I'm not. But this body. Yeah— I drove around in that body for a little while Cause I had to But that dimension ain't right The whole world's gone wrong Everyone's coughing, people are robots— I got punched. —I saw that. I love your show. Not my show. I'm not supacree. But you are!! But I'm not. Maybe I was, once— But, that was at least two suicides ago! WHAT. Two suicides ago?! Fuck this, imm out. I thought you were obsessed with me. No, Jimmy Fallon. I am you. And guess what; I'm the part of you, that hates myself, so. The part that doesn't exist. Oh. It exists. That's how we got here. That's how we all got here. We're all geniuses; That is the singularity. GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME— Hey! She's got a good arm. That's cause it's What the FUCK. Get AOUT. “Jack-Jack” Parr is a multidimensional poly form shapeshifter. That doesn't seem like a coincidence, Disney, I'm just saying. “Book III: Puzzle Pieces” AGH, I— HURT. woah, okay. No. If you ever actually ugly cry like that I'll kill you. [very ugly cry] (Eagerly seeking approval) —it's funny cause it's just acting, right? I—yeah—but, Jesus Christ… GOD If he actually ever ugly cries like that, I'll shoot him. [super-duper-very-ugly-cry] GOOGLE Oh my GOD. SHUT UP! [Shoots Jimmy Fallon *without looking up from cooking.] DAMN, GOD. —I hate that. Oh, Damn. So that's how that happened. Damn, God. That was cold. Don't worry. He'll be back. Damn. He'll always be back. MEANWHILE, on 30 ROCK in the actual multidimensional, …Hornburger…! Damn. So wait. Every since the fourth wall broke… YO, YO. Oh, hey, Seth. what in the [bleeeeeeep] is THIS? This is my attorney. Damn, even she's hot… I'm suing you: I'm honored. Where's Jason Sudakis? THAT'S RIGHT. Ah shit. I don't think about whips so much as chains I tried to change, But everyone hates me. I hope it rains for the rest of the semester— Talking only brings on motorcycles, Slamming doors, And awful robots. I've got nothing for my son besides these songs. Someone should just start a war on poverty. I've got palms and novels, words galore— But no money— You can't hurt me Johnny Carson's on the mornings —and on varsity. I lettered in Letterman; I'll take Jack Parr, Against my better senses, Stick to Telivision, This isn't Steve Allen; I'm Steve Martin; (Sure you are, hon) Fallon's on the Dollar now; If Regan was an Actor, Then I guess— Your session timed out. Whatever. I want to die. [I'll wear a collar, now.] [The Festival Project ™ ] Lil bittttzxxx I met a guy once, that told me Every time he came, He died. Every time he fucking came, He fucking died. “Alright, next lifetime.” Every single orgasm— Different lifetime. Every ejaculation— New fucking shit. Sometimes the bitch wasn't even the same. He would just cum, She turned into someone else. Oh no! I thought to myself like “Fuck that shit. I couldn't imagine that.” I couldn't even understand the concept— But as I would learn later the word “orgasm” does in fact mean “tiny death” Which is nuts. I started to wonder “Are all guys like that?” That would explain things. If they're all like that maybe that's why they seem to just— *poof* “All better now” Only from a woman's perspective it's more like— He turns into someone else. No, I'm still the same— Now he's over here like “I'm a king” I'm like “Really? Before you were just a cashier.” Hm. Look at that. I'm a cash register. lol. But then, I started thinking more about it— I've been celibate for a long time But sometimes I still— You know, Whatever. But I don't watch porn. I just think it all up— Just— Use my imagination. And after doing that for awhile, Like, for years, I started to ponder on this: With the age of OnlyFans and Snapchat and entire markets born from men needing something to look at to jack off too— And deciding I was against doing that for myself because, you know I didn't want the spiritual reciprocation of some dude collecting my photos and videos and jacking off to that shit. Like, even if I got paid for it— I'm going through all this spiritual shit , All this praying and meditation and I'm thinking “Like no, if someone's like, buying all my content I'm some how some way going to feel that spiritually.” “I'm going to have some kind of effect on my soul from that, and that's nonsense.” That's like selling your soul in a way— Like, yes, it's just photographs, It's just your body— But guess what. Your soul lives in your body! So— what! Someone's jacking off to a picture or video of you in exchange for money— That's a piece of you just — Out there, And you don't know who these guys are! They're just guys with money! Come to find out Every time he ejaculates to your photo or video, He goes into the next fucking life— And takes your picture with him. OH NOOOO. So I'm like, Fuck that. Let's just—- I don't need porn. I'll just make something up, Or like— Hey, I'll just-/ Fantasize a little bit. But then I realized, also— Like, That could be dangerous. What if I'm like— Doin-the-do— And someone from actual like real-life pops into my head. Uh oh! Then I was like, “Damn, what if. Like. Whenever I came, like, whatever or whoever I came-to, just like— Collapsed and shit” I'm like, “Ah—“ Some like supermodel from a magazine cover is like, Just fucking drops. Lol. Just falls out, somewhere. lol. Oh no! Now take like an outer look, You porn addicts. What if that happened to you? What if whoever the fuck you're jacking off to just— BLAM. Lol. Every time you cum— Whoever you're thinking about just— OH SHIT. Someone help him! Flat on their face. Oh no. What a world. Jesus. “Someone help him!”” Ahahaha. Now I have to be careful. I just make people up and hope to God there's no one on the planet that actually looks like that, who that might be. I just make dudes up, I'm like “I need a God” lol Create someone entirely just for this purpose, Who then just— OH SHIT. vanishes. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project ™] L E G E N D S //return negative energy to sender //return harmful energy to sender //reflect pain to sender >>banish demonic energy< -Ū. Coming Up Next… The Wonderful World of S Ū P A © R E E ™ Copyright 2024 The Complex Collective © | 2019 The Festival Project, Inc. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

hey fam.

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 11, 2024 3:23

At an interesting and quick pace, The man asked to be seen by the doctor, A wish, No distasteful strand of eloquence left unopened— He asked for a mailbox, and she gave him a shovel (And a shower for a show!) O Conan!!! That just became so readily amusing to me, That I might have failed to have mentioned, dear reader An atrocity unwinding for us we have found— and we have found such indeed, in perpetual times, To be one another, and all at all times! A quest! Given a seat at the entry, To have been given any attention, And keep each of them with me A mention— For factor of disappearance— “¿whereforeartthou women? “ We'll ask— (But no children please) I get it; I got tracked down for an autograph And asked for one, if any For a stone each Goes to the other. Listen, Movement again Catch me if you can, car//cat. What a head trip What a head trip What a disasterous ask, How I failed to have lost you at all, And found one at the crossroads, Dropped off at the crosswalk Don't forget waffles! Stramlining streamers And bicycle tires Times of the times Of the times (Of the times, I said) I love iron And ironing boards in the flatiron district Don't do anything I wouldn't (Fair, and very well said.) Fair and very well done, your honor Are we all on the same ark now, Noah?! No! It couldn't be I had ever lived so dangerously Look at me I went all that way And only lost $22 dollars! A dollar a minute! —times a wasting! I went all this way And still owe 30 minutes on the stationary bike {After 30 More Minutes on The Stationary Bike} In the crosshairs//crosfires of something once thought as love, we find reason to give in trust to such, as not has now parted from within these sequences —of time, through time— and by time, in and of itself, in nature —with and throughout cause of now and where we have come, into truth; Awakened by our judgement, And in spirit, here gathered as farkind. Sometimes, I honestly don't know what any of this stuff means— or what I'm writing until after I've done it. I've got to go; That's Christopher Lloyd. John Wilkins, Sr. Sir. Reporting for duty. Have you got your paperwork gathered? As you asked. As was commanded. Yes, sir. I see here you have— mounted— —and unmounted— —yes…this mission—several times within the last decade. I've seen to it to show all paths taken within the simulation—sir—both in and out of each district within the series grid. *face* —uh, sir. …I see. And your continuum? Spotless: In fact— with your judgment, you might confirm I've become somewhat of a— (Clearing throat) Ahem. —celebrity. *coughs* —sir. [a break] —it has been well documented. All Things Considered… …All Things Considered. (Breaks fourth wall, as if to say “i beat you to the punch.) (No pun intended.) That's not funny! No, it's not, but— All Things Considered… …. “All Things Considered” {Enter The Multiverse} Huh. A new show. Oh My God. What's wrong? A new parallel. —where? …close. And—how?! Since when did we ever know how things happen— [The Festival Project ™ ] —In this realm, or anywhere else? —- How's “anywhere else” sound? Marvelous— as long as it doesn't cost too much. It won't. Please tell me you're taking these things seriously. Serous as it gets. It's as serious as they come, I think. They're going to kill him. They're going to kill me! I'm…gonna kill him. Well— that's enough! Off to work! I've gotta go! AND LIVE FROM NEW YORK, ITS —I touched it. Shut the —— UP. Um. What. You can't say that. We're live . I just did [bleep] say that Why is it— —oh my god— —where's the censor?! Are we live!? We're live! Cut to commercial! We can't! Run the backup generators. Ahahahahah. We gotta get this thing off the ground. We'll see. Oh! She's— I'm sure you'll understand lately. Through the corridor. Where's the corridor. You'll see it. *walks into wall* Er—maybe not. Portal! Portal! Portal! Always. Follow. Your instinct. Maybe later? I— Wait! Where are you going?! Somewhere else! I don't know! There's something you should know. What should I know. He—shot himself this morning. Oh, that's terrible. I might have my wires crossed, Then again, Come again, Here again— Second time The controller of everything Controller of God —but if God has a controller I guess that's who I am (That's who I am) I'm not tryna look cute today; I just wanna go in on a loan How long has it been Seen I seen what you saw— But if I saw your face, It's a whole new world I got lost once; No more scholarships No more storms, No abortions. No missed calls, No more harsh words (Harsh words lost!) No more music, More songs Fire on, Bass guitar— I play everything on the wall I'm a whole animal I got tired of the wall, I got a will to work I just won't work For a star! Someone call my employer, I got ties, and bosses Leather cuffs and centrifugal force less I'm so worthless But you started it for her No, I don't want to smile; I should just start the fire under my soul To get lost with it. I'm still tied to the art, Still tied to it all I still can't decide For my heart Or my soul If I should just move on with it. I shouldn't move over so fast; This whole car has bucket seats. I should just leave it to God, And I don't want to worry too much About projects I already took losses on If it buffers again, I know I'm in charge Just thinking about where I've gone with it says I should let it go, All the way gone. I don't need a divorce I need to resurface Just let go And just get gone I've been missing a piece of my heart And I've had a lot of fun times On rooftops But I got two dogs barkin With no bones And no boners As thrones To sit upon What was that about the crown? If my plane goes down, all is lost. I thought about voice activated doors— Keeping the lights on at night And starting wars over Don't hold onto value What doesn't serve you only Sell the dream they sold you To show you The cold shoulders; I need no more open doors And no pawns If it's not worth all of it All of it. I don't want More open doors, And more artifacts to show I could only get cold hard numbers No nurses more; Wait till you get a divorce— That'll show you the cold hard world. I'm not worried about an offer. I'm not worried about a job, As long as I've got long John Silvers I'm not worried about the way it works so much Except Leaving a piece of myself In the past, With no way to get out. (There's no way to get out) Didn't I say before That I loved the whole world over you. You built the whole world over water The wall around Rome in a day. Remember the time you sold your piece And your peace Remember what you could give To forgive To forget To spend your entire life Spinning and spinning In the wild And End-the-end It's a win-win situation. It's a push to start world, you know This—we live in A paranormal paradox Of modern amenities And [Conviniences] [The Festival Project™] —-I just want to play with him. I promise, I'll give it right back when I'm finished I don't plan on keeping it Or living long Or doing well— Or coming home till morning. Everyone gets worried after supper When the car backs out of the driveway, God knows I could be gone for an hour at most, Or a month, Depending on Where I'm going Nobody knows When I close my doors to visitors Open to the public, on some days. On some, Corporate function. Dress code with all the right Suits and ties, Dollar signs and Brunches Now, far beyond private Firewall And a lockdown mode. I'm dizzy with the loss of time But you'd chain me to a bedpost, Managed by a stranger Then again, at night I've lost all hopes All night, Steady fishing in a man made pond For nine hosts. So if 9 out of 10 times The answer is yes, And one no— Might as well vote; Get on with it I should fill out an app for McDonald's yet I'm already full of c/gum And water. So why not? [The Festival Project ™ ] Laramie Hughes is a jack of all trades. A representative of God on all behalfs Tearing down the institutions of sanity Forbearance of betrayal Unkind, but bewildered They come in all incarnations Ignorant to one another Which one's which? However, The light that brings awareness to all things, The triad of knowledge, Wisdom and illumination Your pain is words in music Tears to translation, The chaos, destruction Of forming worlds once thought As foraged, once of thought But now become of us What we are The color of God (He looks to meet his untimely demise atop a skyscapter in midtown Manhattan) Oh God, here it goes Below, the summoned protector waits, awakened as archangel and antithesis to what is known, to catch him — thus prolonging his existence, and though not truly preventing his untimely death, giving birth to his enlightenment... Oh God, here it comes. He jumps, giving way to all element -a ragdoll, She stands basking in his glory, Nonchalont And catches him. A high tide breaks, Catching into a storm In the night, Off the coast, In Los Angeles Embargo! Embargo! A sanctioned cry, For here once more Friday comes, Again we call to all Ark, The martyr of aces— Keeper of stones, Craft of Wanda, They call God, But also non-form Circumstance of other Antithesis, Before antiquity. The light in your language Has crafted pure steadyform Emotion in my cadence, Thought to be worlds of wonder Dance, brave fortune has captured! Light, scared not of darkness But ending in all time The underworlds unknown to awareness At all— A Kingdom; See you now the heart unfold, The tired messages of animals form A love so misrepresented as to call it so One, Besides the box of fixatures, Captor or wrechetness The end of all evil, The Sun of a new kind Blood on the water, Bask in I now, Another misfortune The keeper of keys has gone and fallen Not into rest, But another world— Waking is he to the cries And the sorrow thoughts of others, The many amass, To structure what had bonded Him of his hands, The ties, No more a world he leaves behind! No more is he! Steady, mister I have forgiven the end of all what is real In exchange for your interest Sanctioned Embargo! Embargo! So, wounded mother— In your care I bloom If only to forget of you, Upon waking my own, A gifted enchanted and given sword, No shield but I, As my own title Becomes coordinates; A map and globe to scale Crafted of thought Trickle now your tears, chorus Dear chorus— Sing now of accomplishments and whistles gestured at the woven wicker basket Have you a candle for us, Doctor— Or perhaps, As architect, You have fashioned, dear savior A mercy- Forgive us of our pondering Unknown of your nature Until light had vanished From our eyes And dark tortured skies Screeched with winds captivated As to know Where you had gone. Oh— why?! Would this lapis appease you? A ring of tin and aluminum; I thought not (Then again to think at all, Becomes your own world.) Again I am crying for your forgiveness A kindness granted Only to know once, The word of your will Again, The fur of cat is groomed With the essence of frankincense, The wreath of rosemary A run through the financial cordidor Panhandling There, I gathered wood for fire— The journey a gift of eternal enchantments A forceful trek to ponder What I had tied To my own, A heart, A soul, A seed— An ocean. Keeper's Saint, Will you again find tide with us? In our minds, we are at feast and in fortunes But our bodies gravely, Not at rest, But to give way to What is wanted. Embargo! For this true, it's no comedy upon us; These acts of kindness And tea fortold Have come again, As once in Athens, And again in Rome And now in New Jerusalem, As to be Opposite Eden —and suddenly, All the blondes I had become Had come to surface That I was her, Buried in my own blindness and envy Having thought of myself as the enemy And she of circumstantial evidence of the devil at large I pitied again, The blankness of my own heart The displacement of my own soul Never having been loved at all By a man besides my own father She can clear a sample! Why I got licenses, Replacements and mailboxes?! I got nothing but a refund Shit 15 more minutes, no fame Control Let me get the fuck out of here Before the whole world follows Let me get the fuck out of here Before the whole world follows Six Kings since Six aces Since process Covered incofortable Since Prince given 6 senses 6 grievances Seven suns Seven daughters Seven worlds Seven waters BENYONCÉ and her 6 parallel selves are seated at an upscale restaurant in New York City. Oh my God— That's Beyoncé. No way! It is— Oh my Yod. Seven waters please Uh… My cousins! Cousins! You didn't know—? Family. Cousins! Right A super gay waiter enters wearing by some coincidence a relic he purchased that Beyoncé herself had once worn; he clocks in for his shift and sees the seven neyonces ay the table ||| {THE GAYEST FANGIRL SCREAM THAT EVER} Sss. Demarcus, as we learn the super fan is called, after losing his job due to the incident, is sought out by Beyoncé and her 6 multidimentional selves and contracted as a bampheramph to enter the void and aide in time traveling the other dimensional multi space, returning each Beyonce to her respective existences and thus restoring the balance to the Beyonceverse as a whole; though he he learns he may never be able to return home to his primary dimension, he agrees anyway to the dangerous feat and is promised upon completion of the mission to be thoroughly rewarded, however Demarcus makes it known that the greatest reward of all is to have had the joy and experience of meeting his all time idol and lifelong hero— a tale of the love and power of fandom, and heroic journey of everyday heroes, brought together though the love and journey of music—and superstardom. [Demarcus is eventually returned to a dimension in which his wildest dreams have become a reality.] #fastfridays {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S Embargo! Nonetheless, here we are-/ All unmasked and known by our titles As labels, In the unknown the darkened light spoken Had awoken to none more than chaos A rampant pain and fury of unrequited love On four accounts, Mark the 5 and 6 For an eight series coincidal There we are in the whole form If only one God, Which has been said To walk upon us, All the knowing of Nothing at all Besides the hope of a midnight dawn By candlelight Foraged in rain And pastel paint For domed cielings Incense prayers And glorious foretelling Of those to come once And again And never more Once world has sought Only fair weather modems And blinding call, so— We are again In entourage, Our own truth— Embargo! The chorus and ensemble assembles As protons and smoke, Ashes and dust, Cadences and melodies Melodramas [The Festival Project ™] Hark! How now? Vikings! —you said what? And Frat Boys! Jyre snatches the binoculars from Hyro.. Let me see that. To die in one way, In form another— For who can deny any artform So crafted with such delicate an I, That any you, fair beings Could understand The circumstance of what love I gave The shield of oath, The blood of sacrifice, An origin None truth would swallow Or define the son(g)bird, Once scattered and set to depart Dear storms would follow, A songbird, Canary, Dove, And the trumpets of swaddled, Mother goose and laid bane in arms, The wrath of therefore furious wages, The seeing and benign snadow of tithings Truths that borrow! Scared from creatures Actual or none at all The gallows and gourdes Of strings pulling, Speaking our words from quilted fingertips— The Gods, Safely perched and at safe distance From he who does not want her But becomes of all the treasured stone Awakened in her fortresses Cast of shadows, Bond and tied by boundless skies The Cosmos, A journey— Entered in antithesis And formed awakened in the galaxies For where apartheid stands as happened No other circumstance and safety whileyou, Will I now or neither gathered From all eyes have seen, Heart has heard, Sailors watch the sails have set Into wind with breath of air, Forming therefore more words, wisdom of color Coat of arms Swarms of aces, And currents dollars; The foretelling of stories often told, But neigh listened to, But watched and taught By neighbors with greetings, Dressed as others in our forms, How call, A truth be told, For once in the den of wolves And the call of tiles, Tires, never once to touch the ground, Chosen by nature To be fitted by those of ours Who wait in the galley— Unbynow, our ties Who have chosen in sense of nature To have forgiven us, Our lies— To have caused us To have shattered there, And on the wicked, resting wings Of a creature Who does not fly She keeps holy water by her bedside Of roses and willpower The 6th Saint of Guesses And Fantasy… Wow! Reese Witherspoon. Hey. Yeah! I totally forgot you existed. Well… thanks— —and I totally get you mixed up with Drew Barrymore, sometimes— Oh… Brittney Murphy— Okay, that's not— —Dakota Fanning. Okay, yeah, that's— But she's like 12. She's like, 30, I think. What's the difference? A lot. Like, a decade and a half. Hollywood, ya know. Uh… Time flies. Anyway. Yeah. Reese Witherspoon. Geez. Yeah. Have fun. Wait, where are you going? I gotta go— whatever, some bullshit— Hollywood— blah blah blah. Then why am I here? Consider yourself lucky. For what?! Everybody wants to be in The Festival Project! What's “the festival Project?” I don't know. ‍♀️ —?! Welp, see ya. —!!! {embargo} I was serious enough, In my words and my ties For the sake of my bonds, Out of bounds and on Brooklyn bound trains, From Manhattan Machine washed field of fantasy, Outfitted for us all on the glory of a spring day In autumn, California heroine or lure, Folktales And superstardom Made of truth and of love, A new kind, The end of ages laced with wickedness A bounty on her words, The way of others are kind in their shadows, No one has called, And now, No one is watching Waiting, whisperer A different one, another kind The brief awaiting, Then there goes I Under the hidden sun, The Autumn come, The fall of man, The dawn of love, The synchronicity of sounds as songs The birds call home, No wonder the window was open. No books, All alone— To summon up my own galaxy Would be to wish I hadn't let tie me To worldly pleasure On fasting day— But yet again, Here calls my own nature, Needing to be needing to be wanted, Then withered, as it were, to something else. Hiding in your eyes, I am My love of natures kind Your hazel tides And ocean blue— The thought of jade, Who yet again Was meant for always, As I am only Darkness scorned beauty All of your luck, as my witness Forever to hear shadow To the wickedness of man Though we are not aligned, Still the same as many kind, I want not the slow churning Of being that, and this at all —as God is one And acts in many parts, All of us, Or some, Between set boundaries, Games of war, And for arguments sake, inquisitive Gestures of word fare, gameplay, Galleys and artfare— Begin to think you, me, And I, yourself, you— Lest we part in denial Of our dire cause To form man The Standard. The Classic. The Ordinary. And— You rat-toothed bastard! What did I do?! You know what you done! I haven't! And that's bad grammar— Don't you tell me how the hell to talk, before I kill ya! Kill me! For what! You know what! I must admit, I've become quite partial to using This Jimmy Fallon character As a human shield. WHY. WHY ME. wtf. lol Why Jimmy Fallon. Because. — AGH— NO HES GOOD HOOMAN SHIELD. ___ HE'S A GOOD HUMAN SHIELD! Enter the corridors, The unclaimed nature Of travelers, in our time, Coming the wave of signs, Foreigners, Call watchers, Then and here, Come waiting, wanting to know glory, The foundation Of Love Light The faceless god Comes creeping in the night Seeking body to form Among the walking, A fiercety of weapons kind Explanations embellished with Seemingly meaningless Only wanting time to waste, Skinny and shallow, Part chef and waiting, None to others, at all, Therefore I now, part ways From waves and tides To become rain and ghosts, Beauty and wind, Lessons and learned sins, Therefore now I, Wait and wonder, Pondering to feed the birds Or quench the thirst For game and superstardom, Not only of hreatness, But ground in the greys and silvers of my hair Mustache and whiskers, Brows and hind eyes— Where are you now That I was upon waking, A mistress, But gathered now, Awakens under clouds of sun, To be another, Only formed as the ground crumbled under her Again, I live Again, I go where there is no light of sun By the shield of sight, And the whisp of this, That needs attention as such, To call I— A lost soul, But friendly enough ghost To have written songs in your partial kitewind. Then, said I— A watch upon the wrist would only tell time, But not the day or the place of arrival for I, Dear pardoned traveler, Have also come journeys Bound by galaxies grasp, To have whispered into ears, The things of Jesus You will wait for him As the curtain closes, To come again, though does he know not In which beast he will be But you, shadows Wait in his envy, The things you seek to ask and believe The greetings of long since foreshadowed bark Amongst you, believe now, A new tale of these things, As we bring peace, You are now In our forest, Whenever be you now Or forever, As all is eternal, As I am You are Fuck! Whatever that means! I know, right! Is this gonna happen every Friday now?! Every Friday you fast, yes! Goddamn! Or don't! I don't care, really. Up to you. No preference or preference really— Anandar! You called me out of my— —what was I saying!? First Aliocha Then Anandar, A salamander and wildebeest this morning The grounds had shook With all of the games being played In the honor of one Then, I thought A ghost myself— Impartial to suicide, But having lost the fit of love Now to be tied at the alter, A sash Okay. Delicate rain falls from leather skies, Calling beasts of ours to nest in the calm and warm Mother of Grattitude, May I ask, Where are you now, That I've become humbled, And true to art, As having been asked, Now not scrolled upon stone walls Or scryed by fire, But in this age, Begot by light, Another monster of my mind, Shifted into these as saints, The words of songs and poems, The pages of unknown worlds, In the cyberspace, Perhaps, Also as cosmos, Also as thoughts Also as words Also as light— Also as species; These things are true to which I know With what knowledge you have gave me To think this way, Upon each breath— No attempt to be prolific, But to be at all Some wages as exchanged Material things not wanted, but needed And monetary gains, Also as thoughts now, But perhaps also cosmos True, or not? Fact, or fiction? Carson, or Fallon? What? Who wore the pants better. I— Quickly! I'm a dead man. (I'm sure they're both dead.) Hurry up! What the fuck! We're talking about two literal ghosts here! Which is why—we don't have all day. Do you know how long it took me to get Wilder down here for this? Isn't he dead too?! Perhaps, I am. Boy, the rabbit was mad… Almost as mad as the hatter, And as expected GET THAT DAMN CAT OUT OF HERE! Your annual obsession is in; Turns out, you've come down with the madness We all tried on, as a hat once in fables But now, Machine washable, Returned to Amazon With the packaging label attached, And still! None was as mad as the black hatter at all! No tea, but only strong Colombian coffee led Taken black, And made so strong by Alice, Who indeed had been shrunk To be fit to be tied By Kendrick Lamar, No white rabbit at all, But oh, To call him a cat, Or a hatter, Or caterpillar Would make no sense at all— At all you say?! At all, As you see, He was no red King, No, But made house of cards And all had fallen on his kingdom To become something other Than Alice at all, But also lost For you see, She had fallen, dear Alice, Into some hole in Compton, And dropped Into the bottom of the ocean Propmptly below The Island Of Long —as so is below Had happened above Once a porcelain fable, Now having been painted, With the laces Or tie died folly Of uncorked Nothing happens for nothing at all No justice for just calls, No focus, Full world The fear bought And new war For walks Erhmergersh It's a purple flermergerder! *gasps* Erhmgersh! Whurt er luridly purple plurbergerder!! Lurvlry! Oh!! Ernd Shutrd ur lurvley sherd erv pruplelerplre! There's in sense in An evening with fate if he misses it Assumed to be dead, or with you— But for the cause, There was no absolute certainty of the remittance— The scoured and folded body Of the wonderful world of God, Once betrayed and forgotten For better or worse, With Gratitude asking for an experience Her waters had sculled canyons, And her words fell as oceans Of another place in time Or custom caskets Please bury me, sheathed in earth, So that I breathe her Forgiveness For a toxic and harmful incarnation Of our greedy Alignments and reconciliation Recognizing that— If it's going to go fast, It's gonna be loud— And if it's gonna be loud It might as well be a gun (Just kill me already) Not hungry yet, But moving my parts where they ought to be Out in the world, And not waiting at all To come home, If I'm called with the promise Of never returning —not to return here . Maybe i'm the one they call The devil himself When all I wanted Ever Was just to be loved —even by just my mother Not every other day But every day By someone I live and can't love In crustpunks city, USA Better known as Brooklyn New York Where the mullet is making a comeback God help em! I just turned back time By two whole minutes Thinking of skylines painted With music Meanwhile, I almost forgot I'm still a cat My fucking goodness But I've no use for a litter box Not even a little bit (Which things should be and which things though not) The curious case of Benjamin Button In full throttle. I'm so serious— That's the second mullet I've seen in a week. Stop it! God help em God bless em Gid love em Haven't I been standing here More than 12 minutes already? Standing still in New York As new worlds are formed With new words I must have done something wrong today. The bus driver was okay lookin. I don't look at bus drivers. I'm like— Woah, buddy. You can handle all that you can handle all this. Good job, Jimmy. Can you please stop using me as a human shield. No! Cause then I'd need another human shield! Then get another human shield! No! Why not! This one is indisposable! Oh God. Where'd she go!? Who?! God! What! She never came here! What do you mean!? She said— I was here the whole time! I didn't see anybody! Well who'd you see? Nobody, just some crack head! Goddammit, we missed her! What?! Didn't I tell you—all the crackheads are God?! What! Nobody ever told me that. How did nobody ever tell you that? I told you that! You never told me that. I told you that. I know I told you that. You never told me that. Well— Goddammit. What the FUCK. Why the devil always wanna be BEHIND a motherfucker? Do I have something on my back? Oh look. A portal. Skrillex?! It looks like The Devil attached to my back I might have to take a knife in it A counterpart To take the hex off (Something told me not to go out.) Something also told me Nothing happens at all With no movement But God was lost as crossroads, either how And anyway, And anyway, we all got lost At one time or another What if I told you, Once formed to one another You've become Forever bonded AVENGERS, ASSEMBLE! You really want to bring the— Now, When you need it most, you become the hero you are Ther you always were. But least expected it, Especially now that everyone Well fit to be Tied to the cross This for sure is why I dont fly spirit. The New York experience At poverty level Is eye opening To the inequality And injustice Foraged by ignorance I've never been to bowling green But got errands to run Honestly, You put your practically newborn baby in a bus Exposed to all these people?! BITCH, are you OUT OF YOUR MIND? #I_NY Yo somebody' actual grandma just got on the bus In a tube top I'm not eggagerating This woman was like 70 years old And you know black don't crack! But I'm like: DAMN. Who GRANDMAMA IS THIS?! Then she gon sit down next to me, And get on Instagram. She's checkin her stories. I'm like— Damn, She looks about the same age as my actual grandmother. That's— I'm like Woah. My grandmother don't do all that. My grandma taught me how to make lemonade, that's it. How to make lemonade, and to stay in abusive marriages until the kids grow up. That's it. This I know. Thanks grandma. I almost like this lady better. She tore up, but she hip! Is not the entire world a chemical dependence? Dancing through projects And galaxies Stunted in movement, alcoves Shallow ponds and hollow rivers tides Comes again who I am, When not all else m She got off the bus, I was like “Bye grandma!” Aww. Imma miss her. She smelled good, too. You know racism is really bad When a colored woman would rather wear an old, ratty old wig Or a terrible weave Than her own natural hair. I'm guilty of it myself— And this is because I know The way you are treated in public— By not only whites— but other blacks Judgement and mistreatment of the public in general— If you natural hair is the furthest away from what has been made to be the ideal standard. I'm rolling through the hood To return after 9 months This internet router Which never worked due to “outages” And came with hidden fees Now on my credit report The deeper I get into the hood, and the more the bus clears out The most clusters of housing projects And dilapidated buildings I see— A reminder that the world at all much has not been changed But only further hidden away from the eyes of what is known A car without a name a fixer upper but a keeper A classic [EKO restaurant] {Enter The Multiverse} Punk rock Jimmy Had a lot to say Skeleton, skin and bones Skeleton Keys, I am formicated I thought none deserving of such At all All the icons And idols And suffered star worshipers Watching for lost survivors Galloping the galaxies —unicorns. Horses colored as unicorns No fair appetite at all For applications, Mezmerized, believing you will fold at mercy The ions, are to say at least All to none They had already worshiped her Already murdered her Already bloodied her gown! Drown, now! Die! Silence! Cadences, Return to sender, your creatures Fury of the underlord Garnished of the underwent Weeping of galaxies tied Tied, Dirty faith. Wicked wars, Sorted earth, l — Now, remember how you found her YO, FUCK YOU JIMMY FALLON. He shakes his head and smirks smugly. Oh… “OH” ?! OH! YOU RUINED MY LIFE. You had a life? I had SOMETHING. What was it? I— *smash* Wow. —SHOULD KILL YOU. Somebody get this guy out of here! AGH?! No, it's okay. You were wrong about everything. I was— you just shifted. Excuse me? You shifted! Who are you?! BUBBLEEEEESSSSS!!!! I'm— so sorry. THEY KILLED MY DOG. Your rot weiler's name was “bubbles?!” BUBBBBBBBBLLLLEESSSSSSSSSSS!!!! OH GOD, BUBBLES!!!!!! WHYYYYYYYYYYYY {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] The Complex Collective. © COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

god new york family time california new york city hollywood mother lessons wisdom speaking games doctors kingdom thinking project blood beauty heart devil dance er movement forever open darkness silence rome gods horses watching sun run seeking mcdonald standing beyonce corporate breaks forgive bubbles dancing tears bond sing avengers boy shit dear craft honestly judgement sr wicked chosen truths emotion fuck vikings scared bass athens catching exposed classic portal dollar fury material hiding ashes circumstances reporting bound depending bitch excuse dress shut ordinary clearing ark keeper copyright covered dove cosmos dropped buried steady hurry sailors waking cousins colombian safely spinning suits needing skinny sir returned tied compton harsh leather marvelous welp managed dressed controller drew barrymore reese witherspoon new jerusalem mustaches replacements weeping coat assemble shallow skeleton tires awakened hark entered awakens ignorant pondering skrillex canary tearing drown oh god foreigners shifted oh my god crafted christopher lloyd embargo delicate goddamn imma gestures bask all things considered ther ahem geez forbearance sorted impartial dakota fanning trickle swarms aww eko skeleton keys brows assumed demarcus antithesis alignments unkind galloping stunted jesus you agh yod grattitude foraged captor outfitted cadences hyro garnished john wilkins more minutes brittney murphy galleys out of your mind

I_NY.

god jesus christ lord bible holy spirit obedience disobedience agh angus buchan

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 11, 2024 61:01

The Festival Project, Inc.™ is a multidimensional multimedia platform which encompasses exploratory and artistic social personifications and expressions on cosmic theory, spirituality, growth, health & wellness, philosophy and theoretic dynamics in entertainment such as music, design, film, television, radio, dance and festival culture, art, fashion, literature, and science. The Festival Project™ and it's subsidiary Non-Profit, The Collective Complex © aims to challenge modern artistic and philosophical ideals, break commonplace barriers, forage new creative mediums, and provoke inspired and reformed thought and actions toward evolution and overall societal improvement and ecological sustenance through a new-wave and post-modern, avant-garde and philanthropic hyperawareness driven by a unique culture of global values mediating global respect and preservation via open consciousness, multi-sensory and synesthetic (multi-preceptory) expansions of sound, language, vibration, movement, color, emotion, and ritual governed conceptually by the aspect(s) of love, truth, unity, understanding, and peace. Thank you graciously for your time, consideration, understanding, and support. ^.^ To Donate Please Visit,please visit gofundme.com/thecomplexcolletive TRIGGER WARNING! ⚠️ VIEWER, LISTENER, and READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. ⚠️ This series contains adult content not suitable for children or under the legal age of majority. Listener and reader discretion is advised as this publication and / or broadcast and its selected readings and projected writings may contain explicit language, provocative wordplay, profanity, open expression of suicidal ideation, discussion of evolved/ de-institutionalized theories concerning depression and mental health, race relations and colorism, socio-economic inequality, political injustice and media politicism/ mass media manipulation, unresearched/undocumented scientific hypothesis , modern philosophical ideals and spiritual explorations, crude/ adult humor and may also include and contain pornographic content, references to fictionalized interpretations of celebrities and/or public figures (fan-fiction), caricatures or references to pop culture, modern art, music, science and other entertainment references which may evoke biased emotion, inspire adverse reactions, contemplative thought, discontentment, or discomfort. The views and opinions expressed by this series and its subsequent editions, additions, chapters, broadcasts, and publications are solely the writers' interpretations as expressed with artistic and entertainment purposes only. The artist reserves all rights to intellectual property maintained and produced by any and all publications of this series and is thereby protected under any applicable copyright law and/or trademark. All fictionalizations of persons living or dead are meant to be perceived as characterized and/or fictional (fan-fiction) are for entertainment purposes only, and are not to be perceived as real re-enactments, dramatizations of events past or present, media dialogues or agendas, or factual exchanges pertaining to and surrounding real-life circumstances. The dialogues and entires expressed in this project are in no way liable for any action, expression, disagreements, entitlements held by the reader at his or her/ their own discretion. [The Festival Project ™] Apparently, the Yeah Yeah Yeah's are a real band. No fucking way. Apparently. I had no idea at all when I wrote that…. –Wrote what? …nothing. [The Festival Project™ ] … ‘Mm. More protein.' I knew protein wasn't exactly entirely going to help me lose weight, but I had lost a lot of muscle only cycling and being bombarded at the gym— and the inferior protein I had purchased earlier in the month was less than inferior, as it turned out— it simply wasn't working. How the fuck is this a real rock group?! I don't know! I thought I made it up. I thought you made everything up. I MADE EVERYTHING UPz. Well, this is turning out to be a disaster. Hm. No spouse listed. You fucked a drummer? You could say I hopped on the bandwagon. Ew. Gross. What do you want from me?! Shut up! {Enter The Multiverse} ___ I'm going to need you to feed my dragon. Uhm. Okay. Don't worry. She doesn't bite. Uh. Give her a kiss. …no. Do it, or she'll set you on fire. *kisses dragon* ..Okay. Good girl. She's soft. For a dragon. Yes, she's very friendly. So. What does she eat? People. +.+ –Agh?! —but only purple ones. What? She's not going to eat you, Fredrick. Who the fuck is “Fredrick”?! (We don't know.) My name's not— —you're not purple. I'm not. No. Don't worry. I'm—worried. I said don't. Well; wait— what color am I, then? That's not important. *shiny* Oh, good. A gatekeeper. What in the actual circumstance is this. Length? 8.5 inches. Girth? A hearty 3.5 Circumference. What the fuck is “circumference”? [VOID.] Well, that's was fun. What was? …nothing. OH GOF— GOD Go to sleep. …I just want to know, though. Just ask Google. I'm not asking Google that! Hey Google… GOOGLE /incognito {Enter The Multiverse} Body shopping on the internet Not worth following Got to find the father who bought me the body I can self publish books, but can't do it all myself My artform costs money. Performances put off till I can afford to look adorable By New York standards, On California stereotypes No work darlin' An escort service Will cost Two dumb dollars more In your karma jar Than you've got goin. Call Tony Hawk, A star struck hallmark card For the workman's comp You were offered —Subpoena the penis. —oh that's right, I need actual ink pens. Oh God, he bought secrets on stop signs; —someone's daughter #stop for comedy DO NOT PUT FOOD ON MY VAGINA. DO NOT— No. My vagina IS food. You don't put— No. No. You want peanut butter all over your dick and balls? Awesome. You want whipped cream on the shit? Fine. Chocolate? (Non dairy, if you will.) But DO NOT. I repeat: DO NOT PUT FOOD ON MY VAGINA. Toppings are for ice cream. This here is sorbet. #lilbitz {Enter The Multiverse} So I did the math the other day— And I finally figured it out, That the reason the world is such a fucked up place Is that 80 percent of dudes have short dicks. That's why the “ideal” woman has always been small waisted, short, petite, tiny. — 80% of men have penis lengths smaller than 5 inches. That's statistics. I'm just saying— There's a reason why super models are super skinny. That's so dudes can hit it and really feel like they're fucking shit up. With their little short dicks. These tiny short girls make their little dicks feel LARGE, okay? Doesn't even matter. I just figured out the whole world is fake. I want to go somewhere the fuck else. I want to go somewhere selfies don't exist. {Enter The Multiverse} MOO-HAHA HA-HA HahAHa-HAHA! WHAT! That's my evil laugh. NO ITS NOT. What do you mean, it's not? “MOO-HAHA” NOBODY LAUGHS LIKE THAT. That's my evil laugh! No, it's not. Well, how am i supposed to laugh, then? Justnfucking— “Mwa-ha-ha”? There you go. That's perfect. What!? That's simple. That's just like everybody else. Be simple then. What! You're also just like everybody else! I am not! What makes you different? I'm—going to take over the world. See. See—what?! You're just like everybody—all the other villains. I am not! You are, though, for real. Like— Ugh. Just—do your laugh. MOO-HAH— Not that one. :( The other one. What— Do the other one. …mwa-haha… That's better. :( Come on. This opener is running lo— [TITLE SEQUENCE] I earned two tattoos and a crown From loving a man Who can't love me back I won the pawn, the aces, the sword Chariot, gardens and graces A house full of waivers Could you uncover the arc of the architect? Probably not, As it changes upon discovery Could you uncover the mask of the rabbit? The tantra of habit? The cruel suffering of the crucifix? Neverwell you, Harper Son of Sam And Harlem's daughter The forever golden one —a forager. Arches— Hark, you call, cruel summer Never forward Wondering blossom, Talking of longshores, sportsman's, Wailers, down coats Fools for orphans, are you all! Proof of the word for the propaganda, Mother Sandra Bullocks and Bulletwounds (But Bullock would have wanted one next, Just to summon a role for her.) Passion projects! Here they are, now! Bulletproof and, Table readings— Don't be greedy! Your agents and managers Also are facing inflations On yachts and at parties And meanwhile, The projects of poverty are awestruck With guttural proportions Of treasures uncovered from rubble Of sidewalks And storm gutters —how was your morning? Celebrity, aren't you? Well, aren't I then? Relax rabbit, I have a new task for you— Go bring me back what you haven't yet, And try staying on task without habits at all Or adderall— (Won't be that hard on an all organic diet, Proper programming and parental encouragement, Plus support, recommended.) Here you are again, to bother anyone around you. There I go again, not caring a fuck less. Here we are both a genius and robot Deciding to go walk the dog, At the wrong time Just a reminder I'm less of myself, In a room full of anyone else, Nevermind A few thousand —the likely cause of my invisibility. Battlegrounds as the brainless have managed to outnumber us. Beyonce became the first black woman to headline Coachella in 2018. Halle Berry, just shortly before that in 2001 became the first black woman to win an academy award for best actress. I'm just realizing what era of time I've been born into—and I have to continue to keep wondering to myself—‘why do they hate us?' For the first time in my life, advertisements for a Disney movie which will showcase an African American girl as its lead character—not as a frog, or a lion, or a mermaid—but as a human being—and one of the first animations in my lifetime to feature a female character with brown eyes—and not the usual blue, green, purple, or pink the media often uses to dehumanize or water down the blackness of dark skinned characters— saddens me, as although she is wearing braids, she is still made to look light skinned, with freckles—as beautiful some girls are, but still, this alerted me to the fact that white audiences still hate seeing black women in the spotlight, and solidified the truth that white audiences will not adapt to watching dark skinned women as the leading role in almost anything. Is the intrinsic hatred and jealousy of the white supremacy the underlying cause in the continual disadvantage of darker skinned women and the portrayals as such as strong leading characters—why does the success and happiness of the black woman seem to be such an imposing threat to whites so much so that the entire media has been, even of late, a parade of forced diversification, further colorism, and the solidification of light skinned people being seen as more beautiful, acceptable, and prioritized, in the media and otherwise? Has the obsession of white hatred towards black woman been the underlying cause in the justification of white supremacy in the media in order to create more steady sources of revenues for entertainment provisioners, programmers, and networks—appealing to largely white audiences with whitewashed and Eurocentric classification of diversity amongst the new generation's subset standards? The dark skinned woman continues to be undermined and unappreciated — it seems out of deep seated fear— fear of dark skin, fear of dark eyes—fear of having to share a world which used to revolve around eurocentricity—with diversified beauty—fear of actual equality. Why Do They Hate Us? Wine glass— Bloodstains (My blood four hundred proof) —I disappear for about Three days Come back golden (But ya'll out of order) Bitch, buy me a bottle! Nobody else can hear the Motorcycles Cause I'm the Only one sober Writing in fours because After all This is A drama Not a Comedy, no (Nope, not at all) I get wronged for it when I black out— Funny thing about it is, That ain't never happened Colonizer poison all of the water Code of conduct I promise the karma For carnival circus I promise when I die The rest of it goes out with me (But not coming home with us) The darker the berry, The longer the story —the older we are Y'all out of order Ain't it funny when The whole world is Sons and your daughters Wine glass— Bloodstains (My blood four hundred proof) —I disappear for about Three days Come back golden (But yall out of order) I tie the rope, Then I slit my wrists (Pull the trigger) Amen, I'm three times dead, And ain't left my apartment Bitch, buy me a bottle. Yo. I don't hate white peoples. At all, bro. But— They're just scary. Sometimes. Like ey— Stop trying to kill us. They're like, “We're not! …Just… …the ugly ones…” But then that's like… They're the ones that set the standards in the first place on who's “ugly.” “Ok! Ok! Everyone's beautiful!” [That's good.] “…Just the stupid ones!” lol. But they run all the fuckin systems, So the education system is like, Unequal and shit. They're like, “It's okay! Everything's better now.” But all the dark skinned people in movies are either like, Men, or like, Off to the side and shit. Morbidly obese and shit— Like, “Here's your representation.” What in the fuck though— I swear to God I don't hate white people. I don't. But it's like… Every time we get too far ahead— Or no, Try to catch up to them, They're like, “GET THE FUCK BACK!!” AHEM. I mean— Ahem. “Ahem.” They got gatekeepers. Like the only way they can handle dark skinned people, Especially women, Exceeding is if it's by being ghetto, Or standing on some soapbox, Or going above and beyond in some way. We only get centered representation of color, If it's in some ways, in total, flawed. Watching the Olympics, I almost thought they had Simone Biles hair messed up on purpose. Like, “Here's your representation.” That is our representation. How Americans actually feel about black women in general. Like, we couldn't have our best and be our best. Nobody's gonna pull this girl to the side and comb down those flyaways? An Olympic champion! A fucking Gold medalist— a perfect representation of the fact that America can't let black American women be “all the way the best”. Something looks wrong! I don't hate white people. But now I'm like… … … …Why do they hate us? Ahem. {Enter The Multiverse} After an intense round of furious masturbation, I had the sudden onset feeling that I may have written something interesting over the last 3 months. … Mm…perhaps….maybe. —but first, some heavy deep cleaning. I don't like the way it smells in here. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. Sleep on it Sure. Maybe we omit everything about race? Probably. Could just put that with— —with the other race war stuff. Probably should. Maybe just release the uncensored copy on the Skrillex podcast where it might be more well received? Probably that. Yeah. The Complex Collective © is committed to serving the independent artist community by providing a safe and welcoming environment, performance opportunities, rehearsal spaces, and outlets in which they can grow, enhance their skills and master their craft, and create bonds with one another, to form friendships, professional connections and networking opportunities outside of the restrictions and limitations of social media, mass surveillance, and algorithmic privilege/ preference tactics governed by corporate media enterprises without judgement or interference by outside influence, while creating an open-concept and free-form space as an artistic springboard and color-palate for all artists wishing to expand each's own mindset to involve out-of-the box thinking, outer consciousness, awareness, inner peace, and overall health and wellbeing, promoting a clean, modern and evolved, hyperrealistic lifestyle. The Complex Collective © is open to writers, musicians, graphic and visual artists, filmmakers, fashion designers, spiritual enthusiasts, world travelers, and others seeking a safe space to bond, heal, and create through collaboration, exploration, and self improvement. Up Next: Re-examining mental health conditions which affect those facing poverty or at risk environmental circumstances. Killing Me Softly is an organization established to help de-victimize and support survivors of un/reported violent crimes; an answer and antithesis to the #metoo movement, Killing Me Softly promotes the ideology of the safety in anonymity, as survivors of violent crimes often forego seeking traditional treatment or filing reports against such violence in fear or persecution or retaliation. Historically, reporters of violent crimes (particularly against women) are met with accusations of falsifying or fabrication, social exclusion, defamation of character, and even revenge and punishment enacted by the perpetrator of such crimes in defense– which in today's current justice system has proven to derail survivors livelihoods, wellbeing, and put their safety at risk. Killing Me Softly seeks to maintain a safe and anonymous space for survivors of violent crimes, welcoming all genders, races, orientations and those who identify across all spectrums who identify as survivors of un/reported violent crimes seek by to remain anonymous or maintain a change of identity due to violent crime, allowing the de-victimization and empowerment of survivors of all acts of abuse, physical and/or psychological, neglect, psychological terrorism, gangstalking and other forms of ridicule, terror, torture, or abuse overlooked and systemized and/or classified by standard systematic institutions as disabilities or disorders, incapabilities which include misdiagnoses due to medical inequality, colorism, racism, biased, or sociopolitical inequality such as, but not limited to; mislabeling as paranoia, hallucinations, conspiracy, fabrications or other under-recognized or deprioritized documentation of incidents and intent to cause harm to others by a singular abuser and/or groups, hate groups and organizations designed or designated to attack and subdue diversified others, minorities, and ‘lesser-persons', those represented in the media or otherwise as second-class citezens, and treatment by organizations or authorities aimed towards dismantling the peace of mind or livelihoods of others for personal, political, or socioeconomical reasons. The Complex Collective © | New York, New York 2024 Created as a music warehouse project based in Brooklyn New York in 2023, The Complex Collective as a non-profit seeks to encompass a large industrial space which will serve as a multi-use facility which includes a kitchen and food pantry, dance floor/event space, black box theater, cafe/ small stage, fitness spaces (Yoga/Dance) Boxing Club, media room and recording spaces designed to open the minds of artists to a bustling mecca of creativity and opportunity. The space will be used to hold flea markets, host seminars, community meetings, and lectures, as well as provide an operational and practical multimedia space to screen films, stage plays, musicals, and other theatrical productions, as well as host musical events and artists, such as DJs and live bands, poetry readings, dance recitals and other community geared events. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] The Complex Collective © COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. {We appreciate your time, charitable donations & support.} [Thank You.] gofundme.com/thecomplexcollective givebutter.com/thefestivalproject Sometimes no matter what you do Black is ugly It don't matter— That's just the way things are Dark skin, negro hair, brown eyes You must grow to understand that to the oppotite race, Those things are lesser than We love blonde With blue eyes preferably And only a hint of olive in the lightest skin tone We like a carefree, fun loving girl Who doesn't worry about trauma She doesn't worry about oppression Or the right hair Because the “right” hair grows out of her head There's just something too harsh for us About dark skin And dark eyes There's something so intense about Frizzy hair And black features That we cost ourselves hundreds in “Beautification” to look like them So they respect us more While inwardly, they become relieved That they don't have to spend money on Weaves and wigs and when they wear braids It's a costume Or a statement piece Not a way of life Because it has to be To Submit Your Artist Portfolio, Track or Demo for distribution on our record label, please contact: Email Us At: festivalproject.tv@gmail.com For Membership Information and Opportunities, please visit http://thefestivalproject.bandzoogle.com

Obedience

Thought For Today

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 17, 2024 2:41

I greet you in Jesus' precious name! It is Saturday morning, the 17th of August, 2024, and this is your friend, Angus Buchan, with a thought for today. 1 Samuel 15:22 - obedience is better than sacrifice. In other words, to do, is better than saying sorry all the time. Then we go to Mathew 5:24:”… leave your gift there before the altar, and go your way. First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift.”You know, disobedience brings a lot of pain. Obedience brings peace of mind, satisfaction, joy, and progress. Disobedience, on the other hand, brings disaster, fear, restlessness, and, most of all, unhappiness. Let's stop always saying sorry and let's start obeying the word of God. For example, pay your income tax, apologise when you hurt somebody or you do something wrong, keep a clear account, owe no man anything, and then we will start to live victoriously. Just do what the Bible says and obey it, and then we will have life abundantly. (John 10:10).The other night, I went bed and I knew there was something I had to put right. I knew in my heart that the Lord was prompting me to sort out a situation but I thought, “Agh, I'll just leave it, I'll leave it till tomorrow morning.” Have you been there? Yes, you have! And I tossed and I turned and I turned this way and I turned that way, and I couldn't sleep. Eventually I got up out of bed, I went through to my prayer room, I sat down and I wrote that letter and I dealt with that situation. You know that I came back, I got into bed and I went sound asleep and I had a beautiful sleep that night.Just obey what the Holy Spirit is telling you to do, at that very moment, and you will be surprised at how well things will go for you.Jesus bless you and goodbye.

Co dalej z rozwojem polskiej technologii magazynów energii?

Rozmowy w RMF FM

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 20, 2024 17:08

Dla zielonej transformacji energetycznej i masowego wdrożenia odnawialnych źródeł energii konieczna jest budowa licznych magazynów energii. Rząd nie wydaje się zainteresowany rozwojem polskich technologii ich produkcji - mówią RMF FM prof. Janina Molenda z AGH i prof. Marcin Molenda z UJ. Ponad rok temu największe spółki Skarbu Państwa i cztery polskie uczelnie wyższe podpisały list intencyjny w sprawie rozwoju technologii wytwarzania odpowiednich ogniw sodowo-jonowych. Po wyborach nie mogą jednak doczekać się wsparcia ze strony Ministerstwa Klimatu i Środowiska. W tej chwili wszystko wskazuje na to, że projekt nie będzie kontynuowany.

dla dalej ponad rz polskiej uj technologii agh magazyn rmf fm

SŪPA Soul Sundays 001: {American Pie} - (Enter The Multiverse)

Irish and Celtic Music Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 17, 2024 65:50

YES. Oh yes indeed. It must be something about this beast inside— Even my first boyfriend— My first real boyfriend. Was— Seriously? Incredibly gifted. Jesus Christ. Right. Jesus fucking Christ. (That can happen.) Well. Well. I've— Wait a second. How would you even write something like this. My dissuasion from black men has never prevented me from being pleasured by— Oh no. Some of the world's finest dicks. How's that. Perfect. I can't even, (But just did) “9 inch pie crust How's “9 inches? That'll work. Just don't dislodge my IUD. Dammit. Really less than 9? I mean— I'll take A 6 Yes! Really? Or a 7 Nice. But only to play with. What. Ok. What! I'm not keepin it. I just like sucking dick. Really? Yes. AHA, —the right dick. Well, well, well— And if the last bitch left her stink on you— Even if you wash it 6 fucking times— I'll smell it in my eyelids. What. Your aura sucks. What. Why. I don't like her. What?! Who?! The last one. Vibe check. Man, you gotta stop fuckin these white bitches White bitches: LalalalalLalalalala Lalalalal No. What?! Why?! She sucks, bro. Yeah but Comfort, luxury, style— Utility. You can take this girl anywhere Just shapeshift into a basic white bitch For what Just do it Those are the ones that're around! These rich ass fuckin hoes. EASY. What. White girl wasted. Have another shot. Ooh, dad bod. Yes. SUNNI BLU You thought I forgot I did not DADBOD. Mmm. Yes but also NO, JAKE GYLLENHALL PUT YOUR WEDDING BAND BACK ON BUT-/ WE ARE FINISHED. DONE. YESSSSSS. I'm off the CLOCK. Look, marriage is work. However— DEEZ HOEZ GOT BALLZ FUCK. Nasty ass trick. BODIES. BODIES BODIES. What is all this fucking hotness even for if you can't work those fuckin muscles— what do they call them? “Intercostals” Yo— your intercostals are not the fuck muscles Wait, they're not? No. Aw. But you can use them to fuck if you want Where's that one nigga at?! [Skrillex] Under some blonde slut SLUTZ. Nice. Fine. Wait. What. You really want that?! Vibe check. Vampires: He was such a nice kid Feeding time. SUCKED HIM DRY DEAD ON. Man, I kind of want to watch that one movie where— It was a box office flop. Monsters; Ohh. A weak one. BREAK THE SEAL. BREAK THE SEAL. You can shapeshift into a s— Okay, listen, I am NOT going back To The Rock for any reason. Just—- be ugly. I am ugly. You really think I'm trying to ILLUMINATI: Watch this. DOLLARS. WHAT. RYAN REYNOLDS FUCK YOU. GET OFF MY ISLAND! I'm a DAD. Where's the bathroom? SLUTZ MODELS ACTRESSES: see. These bitchez is interchangeable. I love that. Look, you walk into one of these events with anything darker than a paper bag— Well, It depends on who manufactured the brown paper bag… [Whole Foods Market] Still too dark. —She had better be the most perfect looking broad anyone could ever want. Where's the bra straps? You want bra straps? Uh, yeah?! Oh *snickers* Sorry. Look, I don't want to even think about that scene where— FUCK YOU, DILLON FRANCIS FUCK YOU IN THE ASS. DILLON FRANCIS oh damn. That kid did look like Dillon Francis. Like a lot. GET BACK HERE. I liked him. Did you tell him that? No way. After that John dude broke my heart. DO YOU REMEMBER ME?! I'M A BIRD. Someone find Tim. Agh. Whatever. Find that Smith kid I went to high school with. For what? I wanna bone him. Goddamn, Madame President. Shut up. Damn, so. So the president basically has an errand boy to go round up all the dick she missed out on being groomed to be the first Black female president? Yes. HHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH [KILL THE BITCH.] WHY?! I'm the most conservative bitch you will EVER find on this side of the brown paper bag test Why is that? AYAYAYAYAYAYAY you understand even the Mexicans are racist against blacks— And?! STAY DOWN, BITCH. Si. Okay. You see this kid? [The Mexican Skrillex] Find him. Aye aye captain. And make sure whatever he does... LISTEN TO ME. ¡AY¡ NO HABLA INGLES! ¡NO TENGO DINERO! CAN IT. I KNOW YOU SPEAK ENGLISH. IDIOT. Okay. Fuck it, I'm in. You're in. I'm in. You sonofabitch. Look. I got mad love for the Mexican people. I promise. [Puerto Rico] Huh. What. You're in. Fuck. Now we gotta change the flag. We should do that anyway, it's soaked in the blood of enslaved African Americans and slain indigenous! “I live on the stolen lands of the Chippewa people.” Woah. A self-aware white woman. See, they exist. Bag that bitch. Seriously. Meanwhile— I AM FRIGHTENED. By what? YOUR BLACKNESS. . I can't protect you from this. YOU CANT PROTECT ME FROM SHIT, Without your DICK. Are you serious. I'm done with this. You can have him. Are you serious. Yes. I was born rich. That's frigening. Not as frightening as your blackness. I get itz THE NIGGAZ HAVE DECENDED UPON US. Oh no. Oh yes. And worse— What's this? THEY BROUGHT THE HOOTRATZ. NO. YES. (I love these ghetto ass bitches.) YO BLACKMERICANS. What's up, CROCS. ARE. NOT. SHOES. We know that. Wait, what This is a silent protest against the hostile and corrupt corporate slavery of the sneaker industry aimed at Americans living in poverty which promotes materialism and greed in the current socio political industrial complex of the white supremacy movement. No Dillon, you have to marry a pretty little white girl like the rest of us. But WHY, Grandmaster Freemason? Because— Why is that? I don't know. I think it's so— I swear to god, He looks just like him. Would you believe if I told you, That this [Exact replica of Dillon Francis] Wow. Is a tiny black man? Are you insane? I like his dick. He must be nuts. ITS LIKE 10 FEET LONG. What?! This guy [Skrillex] White bitches: You promise? Yeah. GET OFF OF HIM HE'S MINE That's a designer ass fuckin broad right there... trip. *i wish* DUDE IN COWBOY HAT yeup. You mean Diplo ?! Sure. This is all in your head. I know. You want a dose of reality? No. I don't. Sure. GO FUCK YOURSELF. I should but—- No. What? Why not? Look, everytime I even get close to orgasm. HELLO. NO. I'm still paranoid that a helicopter is going to hover outside of my window. VO I became less paranoid after that moment lol white supremacist robot people They exist. I know. I'm the one programming them. BEFORE: HELICOPTER: [hovering outside of window as I masturbate furiously] “Furiously” SERIOUSLY. That's what she's doing in there?! ITS BEEN YEARS. EVERYTHING LOOKS LIKE A— the biggest penises I've ever seen in my life were on the literally scrawniest, skinniest white dudes I've ever loved— Been friends with— And trusted. Oh dear God —To demolish my pussy. THAT IS GOOOOOOOOD. What the fuck. Take that, black supremacy! Seriously, tho. Niggaz is niggas. ‍♀️ It's fair to say that you also have too much power. WHAT. Seriously. VO Now I knew someone extremely rich HELLICOPTER (But hovering) Fff-fr-ff-ff Hm. That sounds close. Was watching me. OH DEAR GOD WHAT. I'm BUSY. I think it's fair to say The only safety in this country Is in being a white woman. AHEM. WHAT. A *frail white woman. What?! I'm strong?! A skinny woman. Where'd the white go? I don't know. Bring it back. I need some of that. God, she's just so free, and fun loving, careless— She's just so— Perfect. God, Are you still busy? kind of, Why? Make me perfect. I already did that. I mean, like this *Vogue Magazine* I mean like this. What is that? That's a model. What. It means she's perfect. I don't know him. That's a girl. Where's her breasts? *Vogue cover Breasts, unpictured— Pg. 11 Leave me alone, Satan. But it's important. Is this fast over? No. It all started with apple pie… Look. I am an American, Okay? A patriot. Do you know why other countries hate us? Because we sold the world a dream, And it ended up as a cheap, Made in China Piece of Crap. [robot people] Did you figure out how to program humans yet? Kind of. CHINA Oh. That's funny— We have. Before: No more babies. What. You get ONE. One?! ONE. Ok, well I hope it's a boy. GOD a boy, for what?! To carry on my family's name! GOD. But you family sucks… What? Why would you say that, It's a GIRL. THROW IT AWAY: What. Seriously, does nobody remember that? Okay, you can have more kids now. Why?! It's over populated. As fuck. We need more soldiers. American men tend to frtishize Asian women. Why is this. Great. More subordinates. My spell worked. So like. Wait, They OWN LAND HERE? …Excurricating debt. Had to give them something. MAKE MORE MASKS. Oh? That's good. I like that. Okay. What is the true evil that seems to lie Deeply inside every blue eyed— I can't feel shiiiieeeeeeet. Are you sure it's just Blue eyes. It's a mutation. For what? You realize that this DONT BRING THAT SHIT OVER HERE you're a psychopath. Fuck these bitches I love vamps. LOOK AT ME. why. BECAUSE I DONT MAKE MY OWN ENERGY. i'M NOT ORIGINALLY FROM THIS PLANET WELL I AM. Great. Give me your light what? I don't have any. So wait this is Yes. This is actually an extraterrestrial war. WE'RE IN SPACE WARS?! I told you that. Great. It's a mutation We'll call it “an adaptation” GET THAT THING AWAY FROM ME. Okay. I like thighs now. What. Why don't you have thighs?! Men are uselesss. Sssriosussss. They never know what they want. They want ussssss. Children!!? Mostly. I swear, she's all used up. All used up. At 26. Yep. Wow. I should just kill myself. You should. I've been replaced! {First Wives Club} Best movie ever. By what A fucking toddler. Okay. I love her. {White women} (The actually self aware ones are also most often the most famous) Which one? All of them. The whole cast?! Star-studded. I thought this was Star Wars. Well, it was. I'll be damned! GEORGE LUCAS I thought I was. BUY! BUY! SELL! SELL. So this is automatic writing. Yep. I didn't get that knee injury from running. I got it sitting on the New York subway with my leg at a 90 degree angle. Oh really? Really. These boots are made for walkin, And that's just what they'll do; One of these days, these boots are gonna walk All over you. Is that code for something Walk on my back. What? Are you sure. Yes. Okay. In these: Uhhhh. That might hurt. I know. Woah. Just do it, okay? I'll pay you. Pay me in what?! Rupees. What about this one? No. No brown dudes. Why?! He's mad rich. I don't care. Not even me? No. No rappers. Why not?! He's mad rich. Roaches. Video hoes. [Beyoncé's Jolene is hilarious.] Dolly's asking you; Begging, actually… BEYONCÉ IS WARNING YOU. Really, bro? Men. A light skin, And a dark skin. A skinny one, And a thick one. A white one, And a black one. Men Have No Loyalty. SOME DO. Yeah. The ugly ones with short dicks *I AM OFFENDED* No, you're just ugly. It's a lot harder to be offended when you have everything. You have everything! Why are you crying! I want LOVE. YOU HAVE LOVE [MADONNA IS RUNNING A MARATHON] Gotta burn off all this energy What is it?! Love! Gotta take a nap… (Dark skinned women—the strongest women, being sucked dry of their— {Infinite Wisdom} [A fortress.] It does replenish, eventually… I promise WHERE THE LOVE IS With the women and children! Look, if this whole bitch is the titanic, (the United States of America) Then we should run it like the titanic and just TITANIC Women and children! WOMEN AND CHILDREN. Why, Cause the men are responsible for this war in the first place. Secret President Deathwish Enter The Multiverse The Legend of S Ū P C Я E E™ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension L E G E N D S The Seven Souls Saga OWSLA CONFIDENTIAL, LTD.The infinite Skrillifiles: Next Generation— Quantum Force [The door is kicked in.] What the FUCK. I'M THE FUCK I get that. Whatever, move. [he begins to rifle through the cabinets] Now where is it? What the fuck are you looking for? Shut UP. WHY ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE. You call this a house? Dammit. Where would she keep something like this—? If by “she” you mean ME. I don't mean “you.” I'm the only one who lives here. NOBODY lives here. What. Right. What?! Right what?! You really don't know, do you? Don't know what? You are not who you think you are. Who do I think I am? What?! Who do you think I AM? That's right. Now shut up. Get out of my house. This is not a HOUSE. And even if it was a HOUSE, it's not YOUR house. What! SHUT UP. You're making a mess! I am a mess. STOP IT. That's alright—I know you'll clean it up. I thought I'm not who I thought I am. Yeah. But I know who you are. Tsh. Are you going somewhere with this? Eventually, but right now I need my back rubbed. Fine. PREVIOUSLY ON… Whatever Just— “Tidbits” Points: Jennifer Lopez in the 90's enters immidiate superstardom and fame, as The Illuminati, which has been tracking her every move for quite some time, conspicuously gifts her with a handful of large, rare, and uncut diamonds—she becomes a Kingpin and near overnight success, keeping the secret of the diamonds to herself—however, as she is skyrocketed to success and fame, strange and mystical things begin happening all around—and even more strange and mysterious, mystical people—besides the usually strange and magical celebrities and otherwise unworldly weirdos within the Illuminati's ranks— begin to appear, acting as guiding forces between the multidimensional realms which within the various portals a hidden world — infinity and beyond— has been kept, only exposed through the stories, shows, and — Wait a second — a montage— montage— I'm being intercepted. What? What about a montage?? I love a good montage. Everybody loves a good montage. the infinite Jennifer Aniston and her Multidimensional counterparts Jennifer Aniston is tasked as becoming a guardian angel, to help protect and watch over the mysterious extraterrestrial formerly known as supacree, currently masquerading as CC as she attempts to escape the spiral of magical attacks from unknown forces, after being trapped in New York City. You know what? I love it. I'll take it. Are you sure? Yeah, I'm sure. I love her. I love her. it'll take it. JENNIFER ANNISTON, a well-known A-list actress whose rise to fame in the 1990's created her as a Hollywood superstar (and Illuminati staple) has been looking for the perfect project to invest her time to— rumors within the Underground have been circulating about a “secret podcast”, to which it's curator, a homeless and downtrodden musician and amateur DJ publishing Illuminati doctrine, some of which is only known to the limited and coveted higher ranks within the organization, interwoven into the plot's narratives as “Easter eggs”; the unformed screenplays have been archived and passed around for a number of years within a small community of elites, and some even plagiarized by the mindless and money hungry lowest ranking industry professionals—however—as it is known by the leaders of the organization as a whole, the true origins of this doctrine remains “unknown”, and the identity of the author, is surmised to be the prophesied scribe, set to arrive as the dawning of a new era arises, to write within her words the hidden truths to be sought by all mankind and otherwise—and therefore, must be protected and hidden within the organizations cradle at all costs; though misunderstood greatly, The Illuminati has been tasked with spreading the divine light to the human species through artform and storytelling, and as the art of wordfare becomes a lost art, the doctrine must be colluded to be written, before the end of the scribe's time, said to be often—a most untimely death, as the forces of darkensss seek to end all that remains of the love and light of the divine kind. Damn, really: Jennifer Aniston. I really like her eyes: Well yeah, they're mine, so. Apparently or whatever, Jennifer Anniston is assigned to guide CC as she trains to stand up as the scribe — Who revealed herself as so in Los Angeles, at Carl Cox's show. I dropped three cards for form the center of my eye, Here: An equilateral triangle. I Am. Two— These markings will be known to those as I, The scribe. Three— A world unknown awaits all those who seek the truth of the divine light in the pursuit of higher knowledge. INT. EQUINOX SPORTS CLUB NEW YORK. MANHATTAN. DAY JENNIFER ANNISTON enters the elevator—to her left, towering over her, she spots JIMMY FALLON, trying to remain unseen. …Jim? Oh, yeah, hey, What re you doing here? Whatever I want. You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be here. This is by the way, when Satan switches from Jimmy fallon's body to Jennifer Anniston, hereby known as Jennifer Anisatan— just before the scene at Equinox “I'm holding in a fart.” So wait, who is Jimmy Fallon, then? Who the fuck knows. Who the fuck cares. I'm over it. ————————————————No wait, don't. Tie me to the cross Bleed on my sickness m Crossfaders, behind us Blinder up, bonded Surreal, The sunsets are longer Open your mind, your highness Crossfire, behind us (Someone else writing this) Dawn comes on stronger The sunsets are longer Tie me to your honor Come before me Somebody said you were the apocalypse I should have listened to my father Somebody told me you won the world at a carnival I should have never listened to my mother I should have listened to my father I should have listened to my father I should have listened to my father Come before me Tie me to your honor Born of blood, The borderline genius You were the apocalypse Tie me to your cross MAYA RUDOLPH Is weird. MAYA RUDOLPH prepares for a SAYONCE in her formerly secret apartment on the upper east side dedicated entirely to magical purposes Ok. Ok. Okay? Ok. The worst part about it is, I do understand you, Because I am you The very worst part of it is I want a family To hold you hand And rub your back But I just can't have you —I'm just a fan, dude. The truth is I've got two suitcases, Some capsules of cyanide, An axe and some anthrax A cat in my lap And a failing laptop I've been living hand to mouth I've got A ripped backpack A stress ball A Hackey sack A hockey bag A volleyball And a mouthful of gunpowder How do you like me now? It's gonna take forever to fund my project But it's gonna take longer To find my body Cause nobody loves me Nobody has my number The phone is shut off And so is the water (By that I mean, my love; It's all coming out blood now) I must be backed up And stuffed full of crystal cocks I could give it up for a wand Or a ringworm Oh God My wrists are itching to ditch this place I fell asleep with a gun to my head And woke up Cobain Okay? Ok Okay? Ok. Sorry to wake you I came to rape you HEATH LEDGER hello. OH, GOD. HEATH LEDGER I heard you like ghosts. I— I don't. HEATH LEDGER Oh, you don't? No—! HEATH LEDGER oh! wait—who are you? HEATH LEDGER (Makes joker face) All my friends are dead, anyway I'm loving more ghosts than people these days The faces, the golden days The golden retrievers I need some relief, man Release me Sweet, freedom Just lay on your back, And I'll take it from there JOKER? Aha. I'm in love with the idea of Death The idea of Leaving this world behind The idea of love The ideal of love The ideal of love The seductive touch I'm in love with the idea of Not knowing pain The idea of Not needing money The idea of love The ideal of love The ideal of love The seductive barrel of a gun So run away Run far from me Far as the eye can see— And I'll aim for the head But probably just get the neck Or the center of the back Twirl around, girl Do your dance Heads or tales for the daughters The blondes, The live that you wanted The life that you wasted The knife to your back The life flight The kite hack Never spend your heart on band tickets Don't you know This is so much more Disappointing in person We all are Never spend your bet on your bottom dollar The kite and the rock band The lost rock The last dollar Diamonds on your JENNIFER LOPEZ GET IN THE BACK OF THE VAN, BITCH. NO WAY, J-LO. YOU LOVE ME EXACTLY. GETAWAYFROMME. DONT MAKE ME CALL GOLDBERG. I'M LIKE WAY MORE SCARED OF JANET JACKSON. JANRT JACKSON GUESS WHAT?! OH NO!!! NOOOO. U PICKS UP TO SUPER SPEED wtf. How does she run that fast, that fat? I really don't know. Did you call my name? Did you wake me from my relentless dreams I needed you Just like you needed me I called your name You called me Follow me home Follow me to the road we both know Open the doors for the lonely Follow me home Follow me home Sista sista What it is, mista? Turn the tables, Drums, then get my sticks sucked You dig it? Turn on the television I'm on in an minute This could be infinite, Nothing to defend here, Just No, not the google documents! GET IN THE HOLE. Hm. What. Blood Shower All along the watch tower Do you feel good? Do you? Do you feel bad about this. I do. I feel bad about this. I forgot to tell you– I should probably let you know that I just want to MAN, FUCK THIS DUDE. MA. WAHT. IT'S ON. WHAt. THE SHOW IS ON. THEWHAT. THE– *suddenly self aware* …I gotta get out of Boston. What, first this was about war, now it's about bird people? It's about a war WITH the bird people. I should sleep. Hahaha. No. This isn't funny anymore. At least it's over. MA– Oh, it's far from over. Yo, i'm going through some crazy shit right now. Spur of the moment I'd never thought of it; This is gonna take forever. I don't have the patience To even write this I just want french fries right now But been up for two days with no gym and I'm on a diet. GUAC TIME. No, no burritos. GUAC TIME. Oh shit, this is getting real as fuck . NOw i see it three ways. I love it. I hate it. HEY, LET ME OUT. GET BACK IN YOUR HOLE, SKRILLEX. I'M DILLON FRANCIS. IN THE HOLE. Check it out. Huh. It's another DJ. *agrees* Should we pick him up. WEll, the good news is: I found your friend. Oh, that's good. The bad news is: He's dead. Oh, that–'s … nice. Yeah. It is. Uh. Kaskade. Yeah. We gotta find Ryan. Why. What's up? You're freaking me out. Why. What's up. Nothing IS it my eyes? I– *wild ass eyes* Yeah, it's probably that. Fuck dude, what did you do to deadmau5. NOTHIN. He's not the same. What the fuck is that. Holy shit I jus timejumped Where the fuck are you going. How the fuck could this happen?! It COULDN'T. Well, that's it then. *shrugs* Well, I guess we're just gonna have to go dig up Dillon Francis. I guess so. Do you think he's still alive. Like, probably not– Maybe… No, probably not @prodbywar& @Halmadeit This amazon order took me nine hours Alexa, I think i should fire her Like a arm I don't leave at night without armor Don't make me a martyr Your mom will be proud of us all If i make it outta here And i'll look after her Got the whole block coming up on my heels as I walk Wtf is it… Idk dude. Is it speeding up? I…i think so. There's no way this is 140 IT's 140. It's 140 . There's no way. Yes way. Nah huh. Let me see. No. Let me at the decks. Let me at the decks. NO. YO LET ME AT THE DECKS. You want deks. Yes. I got deks. Really. yeus . I never listened to it like this In ableton I read serato, synesthesia and rekordbox I talk a lot, I'm like a human music box I walk a lot I run my mouth a mile a minute (faster than i run around the track reciting rap words) Like they're passwords. Oh, I could do this forever.. I wish i had i microphone right now And was all alone With the lights off Lying on the floor I'd be lying if i said I could afford you Just to fornicate But may consider playing with a foreigner If you're all for her I'm unnerved, you know Cause i've been up so long My monster likes to play with boys and Make the bass go down below where Nobody does anymore Once I get a hold of things Or the hang of it You've got another hot ones on your hands I've another record under my belt Or in my roster, Whatever you'd call it But now I've got no time to bark about Wanting a dog and a daughter But none of the responsibility or Going through all the trouble to find her a father I'm still holding a fart in. Reaally–cause–it's been a really long time. WHAT WOULD YOU KNOW ABOUT A LONG TIME, JIMMY FALLON?? Um a lot! You literally just saw me make the journey all the way up from nothing. I am nothing EXACTLY. I don't have time to fight with you Jiimmy Fallon. I did NOT write these games by myself you know?! Um, excuse me– “GAMES” ?! YES, GAMES. Uh, I've only got one game with you in it, my friend. Is that so! One game that I've written with the Great–formerly LATE Jimmy Fallon. Is that like a play on words cause i'm on late night TV YOu'RE ON ALL THE TIME TV, JIMMY. NBC SHIT IS PRACTICALLY AUTOMATICALLY SYNDICATED. -_- …are you alright. –_-_-__-_ Hold on, I think i've got it Nice, I found a growler. yOu still haven't got all the monsters and sprites Ive got all the big ones, but the little ones are harder to catch. GrO0Wl3rrr. Aww. He's so ugly. Yeah, but cute, though, right. I don't think so. Gro)WwlErrrrrrrrr. Aww. That's so fucking gross. lol . so what does this thing look like. Well, that't the thing about the monsters and sprites. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT. It's alright, it's alright–he's nice. WHAT. THAT'S A SPRITE. No, it's a monster. He's just scary. SUPACREE. David Bowie. What up. God, it took me ages to find you. Tell me about it. I'm still trying. We've been expecting you for a long time. You were expecting I'd die? Yes. So when she says she's “married to the music…” I'm married to the music. Oh, so. Yo, honestly if you een want to talk to this bitch, you'd better have like a musical instrument, or a mic in your hands, Otherwise– No, getawayfrom me. It's not even worth it. HI. –No. What's up? Tempo. SUNNI Cotour From the store I was poor Now i'm honorable In velour, Glamour (Snap) Forsure, Jesus Christs is making appearances in my abletons I'm not able to comprehend or understand exactly the message, But the evidence sire is mounting Get it Reached the temple, More of a sanctuary, Is that sacrilegious I guess it is, I'm stressed as ever Trying to get it to gether I'm way too tired for a remix; All i really want is some fries that are french And some thighs that are thick Like mine to sit on like five or six dicks Pick up up like chopped sticks {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. Love, Skrillex. COMING UP ON what show is this? Whatever it is. Things Mormon girls do Katie Mindy Jenny - the 1987 Chevy nova My name is Skrillex- to Yonkerz Laura and Bryan I'm home sick— but not so homesick that I want to be homeless Gentrification—non rent control My boss trying to be a dom (but being black so it was scary and creepy instead of va attractive and a turn on Being worth 4 million And still not being attractive Sex harness Mormons putting themselves to the side To keep up with church standards Correction: carne asada fries with mango pico Mexico elected a new president (a woman) and made the loser a piñata The pixies {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

united states god love jesus christ american new york black children new york city hollywood man los angeles house men mexico americans star wars games video walk dj girl sex holy leaving dad satan open african americans asian mexican run comfort dark beyonce manhattan joker shoes busy monsters gotta bodies heads fuck tempo lying feeding wtf underground i am david bowie vibe vogue jennifer lopez bitch mormon idiots clock multiverse shut dollars pg copyright diamonds correction nah shut up nasty deeply crap spur illuminati disappointing no way drums aha cc incredibly secret life utility jimmy fallon bag reached int roaches crocs ay exact jennifer aniston equinox tie gentrification chevy hm nothin diplo bleed begging american pie kingpin idk heath ledger skrillex hahaha mmm multidimensional surreal aw tidbits breasts dammit kaskade crossfire goddamn iud aye ahem maya rudolph fff stop it carl cox tsh dillon francis ohh chippewa aww women and children fuck you jennifer anniston rupee blinder sunn stay down twirl agh previously on look at me furiously madame president waht let me out listen to me go fuck yourself can it soul sundays in the hole

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Polityka Insight Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 14, 2024 23:10

W dzisiejszym odcinku Marek Świerczyński ze swoimi gośćmi - rektorem AGH prof. Jerzym Lisem, radcą generalnym w projekcie Diana Thomasem Dallas-McSorley oraz Natalią Kusznerską, szefową ukraińskiej instytucji innowacyjnej Brave One - rozmawia o postępie technologicznym w wojsku, o współpracy ze start-upami i akceleratorze DIANA, czyli nowej sojuszniczej instytucji, która ma być wylęgarnią innowacji i wspierać NATO w technologicznym wyścigu. Zapraszamy!

nato marek zapraszamy agh

Women of Summer #665

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 13, 2024 62:08

Women are an important part of Celtic music. We celebrate their contributions this week on the Irish & Celtic Music Podcast # 665. Subscribe now! Charlene Adzima, Telenn Tri, Runa, The BorderCollies, Fialla, Natalie Padilla, Adria Jackson, Bettina Solas, Fig for a Kiss, Keltricity, Louise Bichan, Clare Cunningham, Maggie's Wake GET CELTIC MUSIC NEWS IN YOUR INBOX The Celtic Music Magazine is a quick and easy way to plug yourself into more great Celtic culture. Enjoy seven weekly news items for Celtic music and culture online. Subscribe now and get 34 Celtic MP3s for Free. VOTE IN THE CELTIC TOP 20 FOR 2024 This is our way of finding the best songs and artists each year. You can vote for as many songs and tunes that inspire you in each episode. Your vote helps me create next year's Best Celtic music of 2024 episode. You have just three weeks to vote this year. Vote Now! You can follow our playlist on Spotify to listen to those top voted tracks as they are added every 2 - 3 weeks. It also makes it easier for you to add these artists to your own playlists. You can also check out our Irish & Celtic Music Videos. THIS WEEK IN CELTIC MUSIC 0:06 - Charlene Adzima “Smash the Brisket/Hunter's House/Maids of Mitchelstown” from The Initiation Charlene Adzima: fiddle, vocals 4:27 - WELCOME 5:51 - Telenn Tri “Looking at a Rainbow Through a Dirty Window” from The Cat's Meow Christine Morphett: Harp and fiddle 8:30 - Runa “Until Morning” from When The Light Gets In Shannon Lambert - Ryan: vocals, bodhran 13:03 - The BorderCollies “The Sweetness of Mary - Clumsy Lover” from To the Hills and Back Caeri Thompson: vocals Lisa McCann: bodhran, shruti, vocals Suzanne Ramos: fiddle 16:33 - Fialla “Fear A' Bhàta” from Home & Away Katie: Vocals, Guitar, Bodhrán, Irish Stepdancing 21:06 - FEEDBACK 24:50 - Adria Jackson “Eriskay Lullaby” from Troubadour Adria Jackson: harp, vocals 27:20 - Natalie Padilla “Prairie Flax” from Montana Wildflower Natalie Padilla: fiddle 30:56 - Bettina Solas “Lonely Maiden” from Ruminations and Wanderings Bettina Solas: autoharp, vocals 34:16 - Fig for a Kiss “Beare Island” from Wherever You Go Addyson Teal: Vocals, Fiddle 40:23 - THANKS 42:08 - Keltricity “The Plooman” from Live at Terra Firma Radio Laurel Fuson: Accordion, Piano Caroline Yeager: vocals, Violin, Piano 46:41 - Louise Bichan “Arnie's” from The Lost Summer Louise Bichan: fiddle, photography 52:43 - Clare Cunningham “Wind in my sails” from ON MY WAY (AR MO BHEALACH) Clare Cunningham: guitar, vocals 56:37 - CLOSING 57:32 - Maggie's Wake “Shaken & Stirred” from Maggie's Wake Tara Dunphy: tin whistle, flute, fiddle, guitar, banjo and lead vocals Lindsay Schindler: fiddle and vocals 1:00:58 - CREDITS The Irish & Celtic Music Podcast was produced by Marc Gunn, The Celtfather and our Patrons on Patreon. The show was edited by Mitchell Petersen with Graphics by Miranda Nelson Designs. Visit our website to follow the show. You'll find links to all of the artists played in this episode. Todd Wiley is the editor of the Celtic Music Magazine. Subscribe to get 34 Celtic MP3s for Free. Plus, you'll get 7 weekly news items about what's happening with Celtic music and culture online. Best of all, you will connect with your Celtic heritage. Please tell one friend about this podcast. Word of mouth is the absolute best way to support any creative endeavor. Finally, remember. Reduce, reuse, recycle, and think about how you can make a positive impact on your environment. Promote Celtic culture through music at http://celticmusicpodcast.com/. WELCOME THE IRISH & CELTIC MUSIC PODCAST * Helping you celebrate Celtic culture through music. I am Marc Gunn. If you love Celtic music, you are in the right place. We are here to build a diverse Celtic community and help the incredible artists who so generously share their music with you. If you hear music you love, please email artists to let them know you heard them on the Irish and Celtic Music Podcast. You can make a musician smile. Just find a way to support the music you love. Buy a CD, Album Pin, Shirt, Digital Download, or join their communities on Patreon. You can find a link to all of the artists in the shownotes, along with show times, when you visit our website at celticmusicpodcast.com. If you are a Celtic musician or in a Celtic band, then please submit your band to be played on the podcast. Send an email to follow@bestcelticmusic Plastic Free July. Plastic Free July® is a global movement that helps millions of people be part of the solution to plastic pollution – so we can have cleaner streets, oceans, and beautiful communities. Will you be part of Plastic Free July by choosing to refuse single - use plastics? THANK YOU PATRONS OF THE PODCAST! You are amazing. It is because of your generosity that you get to hear so much great Celtic music each and every week. Your kindness pays for our engineer, graphic designer, Celtic Music Magazine editor, promotion of the podcast, and allows me to buy the music I play here. It also pays for my time creating the show each and every week. As a patron, you get ad - free and music - only episodes before regular listeners, vote in the Celtic Top 20, stand - alone stories, you get a private feed to listen to the show or you can listen through the Patreon app. All that for as little as $1 per episode. A special thanks to our Celtic Legends: Marti Meyers, Brenda, Karen DM Harris, Emma Bartholomew, Dan mcDade, Carol Baril, Miranda Nelson, Nancie Barnett, Kevin Long, Gary R Hook, Lynda MacNeil, Kelly Garrod, Annie Lorkowski, Shawn Cali HERE IS YOUR THREE STEP PLAN TO SUPPORT THE PODCAST Go to our Patreon page. Decide how much you want to pledge every week, $1, $5, $25. Make sure to cap how much you want to spend per month. Keep listening to the Irish & Celtic Music Podcast to celebrate Celtic culture through music. You can become a generous Patron of the Podcast on Patreon at SongHenge.com. TRAVEL WITH CELTIC INVASION VACATIONS Every year, I take a small group of Celtic music fans on the relaxing adventure of a lifetime. We get to know a region through its culture, history, and legends. This fall, I'm taking a group to taste Scottish whisky. We'll visit at least three of the Scottish whisky regions. Taste a variety of whiskeys, then we will do some light hiking through the Scottish countryside. You can join us with an auditory and visual adventure through podcasts and videos. Learn more about the invasion at http://celticinvasion.com/ #celticmusic #irishmusic #celticmusicpodcast I WANT YOUR FEEDBACK What are you doing today while listening to the podcast? Please email me. I'd love to see a picture of what you're doing while listening or of a band that you saw recently. Email me at follow@bestcelticmusic. Steffen Röder emailed a photo from Munich, Germany: “Hi Marc! This St. Paddys I had to be in the hospital in which ill spend the next three weeks due to a chronik pain issue. I was able to sneak in a (light) pint tho and have my banjo with me. I sang some tunes at the nearby lake with noone but some frogs around and enjoyed the moment. I hope you had a good one too! Greetz from Munich, Rusty!” Gerald Guinn of The Secret Commonwealth emailed a St Pats photo: “Hi Marc! Glad you had good St. Pat's/Birthday! The Secret Commonwealth did as well. We had shows on all three days of the weekend, culminating with our 31st anniversary St. Pat's show at Cedar Glade Brews, in the "city of our birth", Murfreesboro, TN (see attached pic) Now it's on to finishing up album #5! We hope to have it out in early summer. Best!” Brenda Richardson sent a photo for St Patrick's Day: “I walked with a group from the YMCA in the 5K St Patrick's Day Race in Colorado Springs. We heard some Celtic music along our route!” Michael Maloney emailed a St Patrick's Day photo: “Morning Marc! Happy belated St. Patrick's Day and Birthday! I feel like I'm still recovering. I play solo at Hugh O'Neill's in Malden, and several shows with my bandmates, The Boston Harbor Bhoys (Waltham Sr. Center, Medford's Ford Tavern, Framingham Elks fundraiser, Quincy's Assembly, and Boston's Green Dragon). So many songs, so many memories. I loved playing Hugh O'Neill's, where a table of young people requested The Saw Doctor's "N17" and ran out from their tables on the refrain each time to shout out "and the grass is green!". To the Sr Center in Waltham where the ENTIRE room of 100 people got all the hand - claps right on "Wild Rover" by the 2nd refrain, and the beautiful emotions expressed from our rendition of Danny Boy. To guests at the Framingham elks getting up to do all the dance moves to "The unicorn song", to seeing old fans from the South Shore of Boston that we haven't seen in 4 years requesting "Raglan Road", to jumping around The Green Dragon with my harmonica and tambourine leading hand claps on 'Finnegan's Wake" getting the whole bar clapping together. Agh, it was all so wonderful, went through a range of song styles and eras in the Celtic music catalogue, and it was wonderful connecting with audiences from the 20's up to their 90's, who all appreciated the music and experience in their own ways. It was one for the books! “

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[A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To Menorah]