Podcasts about Bilderberg meeting

Losing your way on a journey is unfortunate.  But losing your reason for the journey is a fate more cruel.  -H.G. Wells    Lost in Europe is the network of European journalists that has been trying to piece together the fate of disappeared children in Europe since last year. It concerns thousands of children, perhaps ten […] The post Hansel & Gretel & Abandoned Children * Elites HUNTING nude children in forests to rape and murder them.  A report of open child sex at a Bilderberg meeting? Are Satanic cults abducting children in Belgium and Poland trafficking to the Netherlands? appeared first on Psychopath In Your Life.

This week the SUNDAY WIRE broadcasts on Alternate Current Radio, as host Patrick Henningsen returns for a deep-dive into the elite Atlanticist confab known as Bilderberg, as we connect with journalist and political commentator Charlie Skelton who recently published his latest piece, War, AI and more war: the 2024 Bilderberg agenda is sure to set off alarm bells, and is on the ground in Madrid, Spain this week for the 2024 Bilderberg Meeting – where globalist planners and the heads of Big Tech, Big Finance, Big Oil and the Military Industrial Complex gather in secret to decide the western bloc agenda for the next 12 months. All this and much more. Watch this episode: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yHPuTPm6NVs  This month's featured music artists: Joseph Arthur, Peter Conway, Walk-On Army, Permanent Wave & Utility New song from Walk-On Army, a Chopper tribute & cover song: ‘My Rifle, My Pony and Me' Get New Dawn Magazine March-April 2024 Issue: https://21w.co/nd203 SUPPORT OUR MEDIA OUTLET HERE (https://21w.co/support) OR JOIN OUR MEMBERSHIP COMMUNITY @21WIRE.TV (https://21wire.tv/membership/plans/)

TNT Radio host Patrick Henningsen speaks with author and investigative journalist Tony Gosling, about this year's Bilderberg Meeting in Madrid, Spain, and the elite transatlantic, globalist managers in attendance, as well as their agenda for more wars, pandemics, and world domination and control for the coming year. Get a copy of Tony's books here More from Tony: Twitter Telegram Bitchute Politicsthisweek Bilderberg.org  TUNE-IN LIVE to TNT RADIO for the Patrick Henningsen Show every MON-FRI at 4PM-6PM (NEW YORK) | 9PM-11PM (LONDON) https://tntradio.live

America Emboldened with Greg Boulden – The 69th Bilderberg Meeting will take place from 18 – 21 May 2023 in Lisbon, Portugal. About 130 participants from 23 countries have confirmed their attendance. As ever, a diverse group of political leaders and experts from industry, finance, academia, labor, and the media has been invited.

America Emboldened with Greg Boulden – The 69th Bilderberg Meeting will take place from 18 – 21 May 2023 in Lisbon, Portugal. About 130 participants from 23 countries have confirmed their attendance. As ever, a diverse group of political leaders and experts from industry, finance, academia, labor, and the media has been invited.

FBI whistleblower shares heartbreaking story of how the FBI moved his family across the country and held their possessions for six weeks without pay or health insurance. OpenAI CEO Sam Altman will attend the secretive Bilderberg Meeting, an annual gathering of over 100 political and corporate leaders from Europe and North America, which has announced AI as a key item on its agenda this year. Rep. Cory Bush "The United States has a moral & legal obligation to provide reparations for the enslavement of Africans ... black people in our country cannot wait any longer." Plus more on today's episode. 

Hiding in plain sight.

What should we make of the Qatari bid to buy Manchester United? Why is Modi's government raiding the BBC offices in India? And why did Rory's appearance at the Bilderberg Meeting lead to claims he was part of a global lizard conspiracy?SIGN UP TO OUR FREE TRIP NEWSLETTER:Click here or follow this link (bit.ly/3EFxuOJ) to join our free weekly newsletter that we send out around Friday lunchtime.TRIP Plus:Become a member of The Rest Is Politics Plus to support the podcast, enjoy ad-free listening to both TRIP and Leading, benefit from discount book prices on titles mentioned on the pod, join our Discord chatroom, and receive early access to live show tickets and Question Time episodes. Just head to therestispolitics.com to sign up.Leading:Have you heard this week's episode of Leading with Shadow Foreign Secretary, David Lammy? Rory and Alastair talk to David about growing up in Tottenham, his Guyanese heritage, whether Labour would increase foreign aid spending and restore DFID, and tribalism in politics and football:http://pod.link/1665265193Instagram:@restispoliticsTwitter:@RestIsPoliticsEmail:restispolitics@gmail.comProducers: Dom Johnson + Nicole MaslenExec Producers: Tony Pastor + Jack Davenport Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

I fell into a dream with you last night And when I woke I had to cry And when I looked inside your eyes I had to realize they were mine Now I'm alive And in alignment Something like a diamond shines inside It's just another night Our love is just inside my mind I had to hide it Your highness Right on time. As expected. Hey, I just wanted you to know: Your evil shamanic curse worked( I've been homeless since I left you and demonic forces follow me everywhere So I'm going to kill myself eventually Just the way you hoped I would So no one will have to know that you hit me so hard it made me lose my mind You have an evil spirit and a heartless soul and nobody will ever love you except for our son— So just tell him I love him You fucking win Your curse worked Every single person you ever try to love will cheat and lie to you Just like you did to me And the only reason I don't wish homelessness and suicide onto you Like you wished onto me Is because you have our son Thanks for ruining my life I hope there's heaven on the other side I fucking hate you You're fucking evil You fat stupid retarded motherfucker —but I didn't text him that, of course I wanted to; But in my heart and soul, I knew it would be the end of me, And that he'd know he really had won— And though I didn't want to give him the power or the light of day, I knew I was cursed, Followed by coughing demons, pretty, skinny women, mindfucked by Skrillex and Dillon Francis and set to die in the streets with nothing to eat, nowhere to go, and nothing to lose but myself, not that it mattered— It would be a quiet suicide, And my son might never know I died alone and homeless in New York City; But i loved him the most And the hole in my heart that made me a ghost was shaped just like him ; And though I had nothing left but love to give, Which meant nothing in a cruel and loveless world made of money, The best that I could do was just to love him, And hope that on the other side would be heaven, Where I could know him again I just passed the white rabbit; I'd laugh at it, if I weren't rabid with absolute madness I've had it! I can't stand it I mismanaged My finances, It's fine, actually; I've got enough time (Money) To climb the Empire The Devil's a Liar, But so am I, And God's a bird on a wire How inspiring I'm one off of everything, I can't run, when I'm too busy thinking “Where the fuxk am I gonna sleep” Tomorrow, I can pawn my drum machine— That buys me one more night in a nice dream A nice clean apartment in Brooklyn, Some rice and beans; Another dream… ‘Is it supposed to be a secret?' I really had fallen in love with Sonny, but it didn't seem to matter anymore about anything—I didn't have what I needed at all—and the irony and reality was setting in that the Sonny was dropping his album on the exact day that I would run out of everything—out of money for food, a place to sleep…everything. I had loved him so wholehearly that I had recorded ïambīc; only to be devastated in the following weeks with the discovery that he had been spending time with Kayla Laurenc who I didn't exactly despise, as much as I resented—as in all of my life, girls like her had always gotten ahead and gotten everything I wanted, without even trying—just because they looked the way they did—and, at least by all the people I had been around, even my mother—I was ugly, fat, and retarded. Perhaps he did operate on the Devil's power, with my ex husband; I was homeless, at least not yet hungry, but on my way to it—and finally, out of “nowhere”, Sonny being Skrillex was in New York, releasing the album we had all been waiting for. I was either being cruicified or… Connected to a greater purpose, but it hurt either way—and either way I wanted to end it. Every time I dreamt of Dillon, it was of his entire family—in fact, I had almost forgotten that he had a brother at all; it didn't make sense to me, actually I had stopped breathing. I was crying quietly from the moment I left Equinox—I had done my best not to, but couldn't help it entirely. It had been too long since I had any sense of security. I tossed my head back to keep the tears from rolling down my cheeks, staring up with widened eyes, which suddenly focused on the digital LCD screen, flashing the streets at which the train would stop; I was of course sitting directly beneath the stop for 88th street—Sonny's birth year, and a number that had repeatedly jumped out to me since our “meeting”. ‘Why would he do this to me?' Maybe this is all supposed to murder me. My ex husband had been tied to White Supremacy; “I belong to an organization that will kill you and bury you somewhere no one will ever find you.” He once said—one of the things which lead to my attempt—or completing, alternatively, suicide. “You know why I have the power to control demons?” Another notion which had the tendency to repeat itself in my mind, whenever a demonic energy found its way to me, in the form of a skinny, attractive woman or a coughing homeless person, in the form of Kayla Lauren, Dillon Francis, or even Sonny—and though none of the latter two actually ever seemed like actual demons, at least to me—the demonic energy was in knowing that someone like me, in reality, could never deserve or afford someone like Sonny, or Dillon respectively—and although the attraction that I felt to either of them was extreme wrnough to me, and could even be called love, the truth was that the effect of fame meant that it wasn't just me, but hundreds of thousands of other human beings like me, better than me, more attractive than me—and with a better perception of reality that would make more ideal partners, mates, and lovers, and that my own perception of beauty and self love had been shattered by Society. Maybe don't post this. What does it matter? What am I supposed to believe? That Sonny's come to New York to rescue me and take me to freedom—that with someone like me he'd be actually happy? That everything in my head, in my heart, in my mind—the belief that we were meant to be is actually reality? He has every reason and every right to be wary of me. I had read about the teenaged girl that had become obsessed with Drake Bell, following him to all his shows and eventually, even becoming close with him; texting back and forth, and from the looks of it—probably even meeting, hanging out together and who knows what else exactly, besides the man himself and God, on whose behalf it sometimes seeemed I was acting, however— “New York Or Nowhere” Oh shit. The orange and blue basketballs on the fabric clutch held under the arm of the man in front of me distracted my mind for a moment from my writing; the color orange had always reminded me of Dillon, because it was so prevalent in the music which had first captivated me, even before I knew who Dillon Francis was exactly, and had somehow managed to have implanted the notion —especially after the realization that he was, in fact, using magic— that perhaps such a gifted shapeshifter had learned to even transform himself into an object that was inanimate; a traffic cone, whatever that meant. [DON'T HIT ME.] Years had passed since the idea had been established, and though I couldn't seem to remember how I had first actually imagined it, besides listening to what probably may have been ‘too much' Dillon Francis, an entire storyline had been written, as Dillon Francis, having become at some point captain of The Bampheraphs, had instructed the other Insomniacs, Bampheramphs, Motherfuckers, and DJs to also transform into the very simple, very inanimate traffic cones— and though Skrillex, or Sonny—was also given an extreme amount of power and magic, especially even the ability to become inanimate himself, or, “The Inanimate Skrillex”, as it had once been written—as it remarkably turned out, Skrillex would find that he could be every color traffic cone besides Neon Orange—which, as the curator of such an idea, had, over time, become both comedic and tragic—as everywhere I seemed to go, tended to produce strangely colored tragic cones at random. ‘That did happen' Maybe all this means Is when I find the bravery To finally fly, or something… INT. AIRPLANE. DAY BLŪ is seated in a window seat towards the back of a BOEING 747. Oh man, this scene. Sometimes my worst nightmares are airplane crashes, actually. Since I could remember, maybe from the age of about two or three—I would dream awful tragedies—‘nightmares, or night terrors, actually—tornadoes, horrible fires and burning buildings and sometimes, airplane crashes, which even to this day, haunt me when I sleep. You know, nobody has a ticket to the soul train. What. You just jump. Trains in New York do come suicide fast. I was on the platform and still almost got hit! Okay, this isn't really funny anymore, is it? No. Suddenly, a sound rang out into my ears and Ugh, it's hard to write when you want to die this much ‘Why do you want to die this much? I had extended my air bnb for one more night, but it meant giving up one of my drum machines go to the pawn shop—the one which I had just reclaimed from the pawn shop in Las Vegas, and seemed an entire waste, as it was the heaviest thing in all my luggage, and I had dragged it across the country in order to use it as a performance piece to give myself an edge over the other DJs who simply mixed—But, as it turned out, of course, the world, “especially New York”, was over saturated with DJs— though I had done what I could, or most of what I could, to get a head start, I had so much work backed up that in the two weeks since I had left my job in LA, that it didn't matter now that I even had my drum machine with me—I was scrambling to gather money to keep a place to sleep, and so the drum machine would have to go in the morning, in exchange for one or two more nights of housing—and with any luck or by the grace or God I could somehow fish it back out of the pawn shop in some weeks or months time—not that I enjoyed the idea of going back into the workforce as anything but an artist—but so far, this artist that I was had been the lowest of all the low paying jobs I had ever had. ‘What is that?' I had heard the album over and over—it had infinite replay value, of course, and I was using its tones and auras to dry my tears on the long train back to Brooklyn from Manhattan—but, in this moment, as I exited the subway station and made my way down my usual route back to the flat I had depleted my entire savings on staying in—the sound shook through my entirety, rumbling strangely into the arcs of my feet and even stopping me dead in my tracks for a moment, ringing strangely in my chest and into the palms of my hands, up my shoulders and into my hollow lungs, wrapping around my heart, and colliding with the very odd thought “I gotta stay alive to ask Joel what that was.” How bizarre. It was past midnight—and now that I was above ground, I hadn't thought to check again if the new Skrillex album was being released on East Coast time, where Sonny supposedly still was, or if it might not be available until later; and I hadn't thought to look or try to check Instagram again—I had only been on Instagram anyway in hopes of finding a job—and had only checked the Skrillex Instagram hoping that I would see something that would make the way I felt about Sonny stop, by now, suddenly realizing that it never would until he married or procreated with someone else, (or I did) once and for all wiping out any dillusions I had dreamt up or summoned in the wake of our crossing paths. As quickly as he had come to New York, he could have left and probably may have—but I didn't know, and didn't care; it would be futile to believe he would come to rescue me, even if it was what I wanted and needed so much that I couldn't bear the thought of anything more than just departing the entire world. Earlier, even though I had been pressed for time to make it to the gym, having spent the day of course collecting my things and trying to figure a way out ot the homeless box I had built my way into, still stressing the somehow ‘need' to publish the entirety or the 6th season so that I could go on hiatus— It really hadn't occurred to me for more than a moment that Sonny might be listening to my podcast at all, besides listening to Renaissance which I had briefly vaulted, having worked out to it too much and beyond honestly hating myself for not being either Skrillex, or perhaps even more disappointingly, Beyoncè—and either one would have done— I retracted my last couple steps, doubling back to the discotheque—All Night Skate—where I had already asked for a job one of my first nights in Brooklyn, collecting the number of the manager but having lost it, deleting it by accident— INT. ALL NIGHT SKATE. 12:56 AM I realized it was nearly closing time; I had stopped back by after Equinox to write, hoping to music mine whatever the DJ was playing, my body strangely acting and writing quite automatically, with reason to live, shaken suddenly alive by an unidentifiable bass sound seated safely on While 1>2, and still seeking purpose Bryan eno complex heaven Terrors in my head The two songs mixed perfectly into my minds eye as I left, snapping photos for albums yet to be written, and wondering whether or not I would live long enough to write them, or to mix the two songs which had so perfectly mixed—one playing in my headphones and the other over the PA system—and wondering how less than an hour earlier I had experienced a sound I had heard at least a hundred times under the arches of my feet. Oh, wow. ‘Errors In My Bread' The numbers 404 had always triggered the thought: Error, perhaps suggesting even I myself was nothing more than just a simulation or computer of some sort, a robotic formulation of all that had been programmed and crated to exist in the way that I had, a short circuit or some kind of malfunction; I'd trickled into Equinox at precisely 9:52, which allowed me exactly 8 minutes to prepare to record the beginning of the closing announcements at 10:00 for the Equinox + EP, peel off my outer layer of clothes, and pour into the sauna for at least 15 minutes, squeezing in a light workout—warranted, considering I had spent the entirety of the day before at the club, auditioning the rest of the 6th season between the sauna and steamroom, Suffering the Skrillex that had descended onto the city I neither loved nor lived in—which might have totaled altogether about 4 hours in the sauna alone, and what seemed like 56 gallons of sweat—but I was grasping at straws, searching for random numbers to complete my thoughts. I had left Manhattan, as usual, at 11:00 PM as Sports Club closed—pulling my belongings from locker 403, with locker number 404 catching my attention from out of the corner or my eye—and as tears gushed from my face, blasted through the revolving doors—-there was indeed an Error in my Bread, and so to self soothe as usual only seemed fitting, as the words began to pour from my fingertips once more. ‘Not Your Mother's Drag Night' had ended, and the either irony or synchronicity subtly toyed with my inherent need for survival and awestruck emotions, as the last and final episode of the 6th season, which I had already named [Not Your Mother's Episode] before arriving to my Equinox venture at the party — the episode in which everything I had written, assembled with every entry for the 6th season, to be left in its description —was yet still unreleased; it had been a grueling train ride full of tears, and I had yet to neatly tie together the Jimmy Fallon timeline—the Timmy Turner Timeline, which of course connected the Amanda Bynes timelines and all of the Nickelodeon timelines respectively—and though the Skrillex and Dillon Francis timelines had driven nearly every series in their entireties in one way or another, Sonny's sudden arrival into New York City mere hours after Act III, Part IIhad been posted —indicating that either he himself or someone on his campaign had been listening and reading along with my series, jolting me into a frenzy, of course… (though I had already planned to release the end of the season concurrently—as I had with a majority of the previous seasons, taking a hiatus to regroup after each season conclusion or finale) my homeless-suicidal pattern had shown itself to be cyclical, by now—not that one thing hadn't anything to do with the other, and though someone or something may have found it interesting and entertaining, I myself was growing tired of making a mockery of my own self, remaining unloved, unhoused, and unfelt enough so much so that nothing had really changed—and although the 3rd season's hiatus had warranted the 4th season's Anandar, the 4th seasons return to the United States had of course warranted more racism, capitalistic greed, hereditary confinement, algorithmic condemnation, corporate slavery, and an interesting series of mixtapes—which of course had resulted in the 6th season's hope for a better future, my almost-return to Hollywood via the actual real-life Drake Bell and his man-habits, my mental degradation via lack of privacy, and of course, the empathic enforcement or feeling everything at once besides love, human connection or trust. My ex had texted me some weeks earlier, finally having apologized for cheating and assuring me that his karma had been paid in full—without responding, I simply screenshotted the message for future use on an album cover, deleted Google voice, and reassured myself that if his long-overdue karma for cheating had just now been ‘paid-in-full', that it surely had not been paid in full at all and was only just beginning—as he had never apologized or admitted to anything else he'd done—of course, as our relationship had ended, my re-awakening of creativity had been flourishing; I was always recording, taking samples, and writing down ideas for music I wanted to make—and besides that—openly admitting that he had hit me would probably open a disastrous wormhole of self-realization and shame no true narcissist could take—that which he was, not that I at this point had resented it, besides of course the scarring on my lower lip that had come as a result, the estrangement from my son, or the mental anguish I had suffered—and, looking back, I still could never recount whether I had… Just then, I realized that there was an error in my thinking; I had already been running off my weight at a tremendously rapid pace, working out to Recess in the living room between shifts at the veterinary clinic, where I took pride and joy in running with the greyhounds at then-top speed, racing to Diplo, Doctor P, and Rusko—of course, only stopping to express, my breasts still heavy from lactation, and realizing that it was painful to run with boobs full of anything—let alone, milk—which sometimes I pumped for Annie once her glands had gone dry, donated to the NICU, or winded up in my ex's coffee, because it gave him “superpowers.” This is a weird story. Well, if I tell some of it I have to tell all of it. Why are you even telling some of it? Because someone threw Skrillex in my tent and I should have raped him. You can't rape the willing. This is a sick bitch we're dealing with. How do you know he was willing? (He was wiling.) Idk,bro. He looked sick. Or scared. Or Ill. “ill” Get it. I put the ill in Skrillex Better fix my will forreal This could be my last meal Cause I feel like jumping off a building Or a cliff, Like dead horse point— We're beating/being a dead horse, Aren't we? Or an F'n Pig: Oink Oink! Boisterous, Aren't we boys? Let me annoint you all with oil, On upholstery You want a half, Or a whole thing? I want you to hold— I want you to know me I want you to love me I love you Are you happy? Oh, you fucked up. Oh, you think?! I barely sleep, Then you start showing up in my dreams? I don't believe you, I don't believe in anything but me, And I could be you, maybe Maybe there's a sequel, If we're equal— Or if he isn't evil; Maybe I'll just Evil Kinivel Fuck you people! Maybe I'll go fuxkin sleep with Lil Peep I'll call the reaper, Jesus Weeps, But probably not as much as _________ He's a keeper. Fun fact: when you cry, I cry. Plz. Stop crying. I can't. INT. A FIREY PLANE CRASH Wait. THE BILDERBERG MEETING. Jesus Christ, why is Shia Labouf so fuckin ripped. Ew. Who feeds him. CHICKEN. gross. BEFORE: SHIA LABEOUF ITS ME, I'M IN YOUR DREAMS. Ū Oh noooo… SHIA LABEOUF THE FESTIVAL PROJECT Ū … What. SHIA LABEOUF THE FESTIVAL PROJECT Ū k. SHIA LABEOUF NOW WAKE UP, Ū What? SHIA LABEOUF WAKE—UP. Narcissistic Cannibal- Korn, Skrillex. UP. [C.C. Wakes up, drenched in sweat. ] … … … C.C. …Shia LaBeouf…? (That was an actual dream I had once—give or take a few parts.) Yeah, give or take. Ahem. I probably would have forgotten he existed, too, were it not for that dream—and shortly thereafter… FLASHBACK: C.C. Is binge watching Hot Ones. I want—all the sauce. What's that dudes name. Sean. He seems a little off. Yeah, I bet he's off. E Q U I N O X huh. …huh. INT. THE BILDERBERG MEETING SHIA LABEOUF I DONT GIVE A SINGLE FUCK. ILLUMINATI perfect. SECURITY GET OUT. SHIA LABEOUF I WAS NEVER IN. CHICKEN. Ew. ILLUMINATI SEQUENCE C - GREENLIGNT. Wtf is happening in this show. Idk, but I like it. Where's — CHAL (From season 4) IT DOESNT MAAAAAAATER. Right. CUT BACK TO: INT. A FIREY PLANECRASH. DAY. QUEST FOR FIRE. LOOK TO THE SKIES, YOUNG PADOWAN. oh my god. It's a fire breathing dragon! No, dude, that's a firey plane crash. Fuck. FIRE BREATHING DRAGON. That's a fire breathing dragon. W0W. Which do you think is gonna be more interesting? Neither, I'd rather watch The Legend of SupaCree What time is it on? SUPACREE it's always on. How is that even possible! SUPACREE you're on it, Are you recording me? SUPACREE I record everything. Srsly?! SUPACREE Except lovemaking. … SUPACREE That is private. … SCARY TERRY SEX IS SACRED, BITCH. SUPACREE don't cal me a bitch. … go watch TV. CUT BACK TO: INT. A FIREY PLANE CRASH. DAY [Terror has stricken the passengers of flight 626, as the BOEING 747 plunges rapidly, falling from the sky at an alarming speed, as the airplane decentigrates, falling into pieces] SHIA LABEOUF Does this character not have a name? No, it's literally Shia LaBeouf; he's playing himself. CUT TO: SHIA LABEOUF I'M AN AIR MARSHALL WHEN I'M NOT ACTING Why is he still yelling? SHIA LABEOUF ‘CAUSE I'M IN YOUR DREAMS. CUT BACK TO: Just before: SHIA LABEOUF looks over the rims of his glasses, staring forward at CC/SUPACREE, before lowering his head back down, momentarily pretending to read a magazine from under the brim of his tan cap, obscuring his identity. He places his hand over the gun in his holster, revealing by the golden badge beside it that he is a federal air Marshall (to the audience) before adjusting his brown leather jacket to cover it, squinting conspicuously under his bifocal lenses, peering once more at CC/SUPACREE, and swallowing subtly, licking his lips and flashing away a secondary glimpse of fear in his eyes, before presuming a fierce gaze as he braces for impact, calmly unbuckling his seatbelt. Suddenly, the plane is struck— as the passengers scream and panic in fear, he simply stands up, stabilizing his balance, and moves towards the terrified and hyperventilating SUPACREE. ] Ok. That'll do. What about Drake Bell?! what about Drake Bell!? And Drake And Josh?! AND THE AMANDA SHOW AND ARIANA GRANDE AND ALL THE NICHELODEON KIDS?! It can wait. NO! BUT WHAT ABOUT COSMO + WANDA?! AND SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS AND HEY ARNOLD I never got to Hey Arnold, but I've been thinking about it a lot since I got to New York; but—that's also Nickelodeon, so— BUT WHAT ABOUT DILLON FRANCIS. he's very attractive. WHAt ab0Ut SKriLLeX?! he's also very attractive, And just dropped his album— So we can just assume that the previously mentioned are perhaps both getting their dicks sucked often enough that I don't have to worry about it. Why would you worry about it. CAUSE I'M IN YOUR DREAMS. This is not kid friendly. AHHHHHHHHHH WHAT ABOUT JIMMY FALLON. Everything naughty he says in this series is censored caused he has a contract with NBC. WHERE'S WHOOPI GOLDBERG?! WHO!? I don't like this. I don't like this at all. Then keep scrolling. What about deadmau5. Probably also presumably getting his dick sucked. W0W. I re-entered the apartment at exactly 1:15. BLŪ Of course. And though I had been filled with nothing but words and heartache, I could do no more than to peel off my layers and tumble into the shower, no longer in tears, but still devastated — and somehow dying to know if the Skrillex album just so happened to mark my Deathwish, or restore my faith in humanity…neither of which actually mattered; I had fallen prey once more to the cycle of poverty's destruction and relentlessness, if even by my own doing—the respective love I held for Sonny, Dillon Francis, or anyone else simply a faction of obsessive fandom, my writings a mere glimpse into the unobstructed world of the fourth dimension, which I undoubtedly still believed and was living in, only hoping that I was indeed not the hopeless protagonist to die, in the end—and perhaps, that even if I did, the worlds and works that I had published on The Legend of Supacree, OWSLA Confidential: The Infinite Skrillifiles, Gerald's World, and Enter The Multiverse would stand as the backbone for an unimaginable flurry of Whatever. The End. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE WAR OF WORLDS LEGENDS HOLY WAR EARTH WORLD WAR WATER (WWIII) {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U. I ain't got nothing but wants for you; I guess I'll thicken the plot, like a cannonball holy where are you? man, Angel, or martyr? I have still a heart, but halfheartedly departed, Your honorable marker, a son, for the sonnet: a song for the road- and a bun, for a bonnet I saw you more often then mom, the bombshell forgot what you called it I've got to run off, And run on to go faux at the faucet i saw you once and You've got all the love, I've got none left- well some-- but it's not the kind I wanted; i gues I'm just a mom, And you're the son; you're the Sun, then. love you, Sonny.

I fell into a dream with you last night And when I woke I had to cry And when I looked inside your eyes I had to realize they were mine Now I'm alive And in alignment Something like a diamond shines inside It's just another night Our love is just inside my mind I had to hide it Your highness Right on time. As expected. Hey, I just wanted you to know: Your evil shamanic curse worked( I've been homeless since I left you and demonic forces follow me everywhere So I'm going to kill myself eventually Just the way you hoped I would So no one will have to know that you hit me so hard it made me lose my mind You have an evil spirit and a heartless soul and nobody will ever love you except for our son— So just tell him I love him You fucking win Your curse worked Every single person you ever try to love will cheat and lie to you Just like you did to me And the only reason I don't wish homelessness and suicide onto you Like you wished onto me Is because you have our son Thanks for ruining my life I hope there's heaven on the other side I fucking hate you You're fucking evil You fat stupid retarded motherfucker —but I didn't text him that, of course I wanted to; But in my heart and soul, I knew it would be the end of me, And that he'd know he really had won— And though I didn't want to give him the power or the light of day, I knew I was cursed, Followed by coughing demons, pretty, skinny women, mindfucked by Skrillex and Dillon Francis and set to die in the streets with nothing to eat, nowhere to go, and nothing to lose but myself, not that it mattered— It would be a quiet suicide, And my son might never know I died alone and homeless in New York City; But i loved him the most And the hole in my heart that made me a ghost was shaped just like him ; And though I had nothing left but love to give, Which meant nothing in a cruel and loveless world made of money, The best that I could do was just to love him, And hope that on the other side would be heaven, Where I could know him again I just passed the white rabbit; I'd laugh at it, if I weren't rabid with absolute madness I've had it! I can't stand it I mismanaged My finances, It's fine, actually; I've got enough time (Money) To climb the Empire The Devil's a Liar, But so am I, And God's a bird on a wire How inspiring I'm one off of everything, I can't run, when I'm too busy thinking “Where the fuxk am I gonna sleep” Tomorrow, I can pawn my drum machine— That buys me one more night in a nice dream A nice clean apartment in Brooklyn, Some rice and beans; Another dream… ‘Is it supposed to be a secret?' I really had fallen in love with Sonny, but it didn't seem to matter anymore about anything—I didn't have what I needed at all—and the irony and reality was setting in that the Sonny was dropping his album on the exact day that I would run out of everything—out of money for food, a place to sleep…everything. I had loved him so wholehearly that I had recorded ïambīc; only to be devastated in the following weeks with the discovery that he had been spending time with Kayla Laurenc who I didn't exactly despise, as much as I resented—as in all of my life, girls like her had always gotten ahead and gotten everything I wanted, without even trying—just because they looked the way they did—and, at least by all the people I had been around, even my mother—I was ugly, fat, and retarded. Perhaps he did operate on the Devil's power, with my ex husband; I was homeless, at least not yet hungry, but on my way to it—and finally, out of “nowhere”, Sonny being Skrillex was in New York, releasing the album we had all been waiting for. I was either being cruicified or… Connected to a greater purpose, but it hurt either way—and either way I wanted to end it. Every time I dreamt of Dillon, it was of his entire family—in fact, I had almost forgotten that he had a brother at all; it didn't make sense to me, actually I had stopped breathing. I was crying quietly from the moment I left Equinox—I had done my best not to, but couldn't help it entirely. It had been too long since I had any sense of security. I tossed my head back to keep the tears from rolling down my cheeks, staring up with widened eyes, which suddenly focused on the digital LCD screen, flashing the streets at which the train would stop; I was of course sitting directly beneath the stop for 88th street—Sonny's birth year, and a number that had repeatedly jumped out to me since our “meeting”. ‘Why would he do this to me?' Maybe this is all supposed to murder me. My ex husband had been tied to White Supremacy; “I belong to an organization that will kill you and bury you somewhere no one will ever find you.” He once said—one of the things which lead to my attempt—or completing, alternatively, suicide. “You know why I have the power to control demons?” Another notion which had the tendency to repeat itself in my mind, whenever a demonic energy found its way to me, in the form of a skinny, attractive woman or a coughing homeless person, in the form of Kayla Lauren, Dillon Francis, or even Sonny—and though none of the latter two actually ever seemed like actual demons, at least to me—the demonic energy was in knowing that someone like me, in reality, could never deserve or afford someone like Sonny, or Dillon respectively—and although the attraction that I felt to either of them was extreme wrnough to me, and could even be called love, the truth was that the effect of fame meant that it wasn't just me, but hundreds of thousands of other human beings like me, better than me, more attractive than me—and with a better perception of reality that would make more ideal partners, mates, and lovers, and that my own perception of beauty and self love had been shattered by Society. Maybe don't post this. What does it matter? What am I supposed to believe? That Sonny's come to New York to rescue me and take me to freedom—that with someone like me he'd be actually happy? That everything in my head, in my heart, in my mind—the belief that we were meant to be is actually reality? He has every reason and every right to be wary of me. I had read about the teenaged girl that had become obsessed with Drake Bell, following him to all his shows and eventually, even becoming close with him; texting back and forth, and from the looks of it—probably even meeting, hanging out together and who knows what else exactly, besides the man himself and God, on whose behalf it sometimes seeemed I was acting, however— “New York Or Nowhere” Oh shit. The orange and blue basketballs on the fabric clutch held under the arm of the man in front of me distracted my mind for a moment from my writing; the color orange had always reminded me of Dillon, because it was so prevalent in the music which had first captivated me, even before I knew who Dillon Francis was exactly, and had somehow managed to have implanted the notion —especially after the realization that he was, in fact, using magic— that perhaps such a gifted shapeshifter had learned to even transform himself into an object that was inanimate; a traffic cone, whatever that meant. [DON'T HIT ME.] Years had passed since the idea had been established, and though I couldn't seem to remember how I had first actually imagined it, besides listening to what probably may have been ‘too much' Dillon Francis, an entire storyline had been written, as Dillon Francis, having become at some point captain of The Bampheraphs, had instructed the other Insomniacs, Bampheramphs, Motherfuckers, and DJs to also transform into the very simple, very inanimate traffic cones— and though Skrillex, or Sonny—was also given an extreme amount of power and magic, especially even the ability to become inanimate himself, or, “The Inanimate Skrillex”, as it had once been written—as it remarkably turned out, Skrillex would find that he could be every color traffic cone besides Neon Orange—which, as the curator of such an idea, had, over time, become both comedic and tragic—as everywhere I seemed to go, tended to produce strangely colored tragic cones at random. ‘That did happen' Maybe all this means Is when I find the bravery To finally fly, or something… INT. AIRPLANE. DAY BLŪ is seated in a window seat towards the back of a BOEING 747. Oh man, this scene. Sometimes my worst nightmares are airplane crashes, actually. Since I could remember, maybe from the age of about two or three—I would dream awful tragedies—‘nightmares, or night terrors, actually—tornadoes, horrible fires and burning buildings and sometimes, airplane crashes, which even to this day, haunt me when I sleep. You know, nobody has a ticket to the soul train. What. You just jump. Trains in New York do come suicide fast. I was on the platform and still almost got hit! Okay, this isn't really funny anymore, is it? No. Suddenly, a sound rang out into my ears and Ugh, it's hard to write when you want to die this much ‘Why do you want to die this much? I had extended my air bnb for one more night, but it meant giving up one of my drum machines go to the pawn shop—the one which I had just reclaimed from the pawn shop in Las Vegas, and seemed an entire waste, as it was the heaviest thing in all my luggage, and I had dragged it across the country in order to use it as a performance piece to give myself an edge over the other DJs who simply mixed—But, as it turned out, of course, the world, “especially New York”, was over saturated with DJs— though I had done what I could, or most of what I could, to get a head start, I had so much work backed up that in the two weeks since I had left my job in LA, that it didn't matter now that I even had my drum machine with me—I was scrambling to gather money to keep a place to sleep, and so the drum machine would have to go in the morning, in exchange for one or two more nights of housing—and with any luck or by the grace or God I could somehow fish it back out of the pawn shop in some weeks or months time—not that I enjoyed the idea of going back into the workforce as anything but an artist—but so far, this artist that I was had been the lowest of all the low paying jobs I had ever had. ‘What is that?' I had heard the album over and over—it had infinite replay value, of course, and I was using its tones and auras to dry my tears on the long train back to Brooklyn from Manhattan—but, in this moment, as I exited the subway station and made my way down my usual route back to the flat I had depleted my entire savings on staying in—the sound shook through my entirety, rumbling strangely into the arcs of my feet and even stopping me dead in my tracks for a moment, ringing strangely in my chest and into the palms of my hands, up my shoulders and into my hollow lungs, wrapping around my heart, and colliding with the very odd thought “I gotta stay alive to ask Joel what that was.” How bizarre. It was past midnight—and now that I was above ground, I hadn't thought to check again if the new Skrillex album was being released on East Coast time, where Sonny supposedly still was, or if it might not be available until later; and I hadn't thought to look or try to check Instagram again—I had only been on Instagram anyway in hopes of finding a job—and had only checked the Skrillex Instagram hoping that I would see something that would make the way I felt about Sonny stop, by now, suddenly realizing that it never would until he married or procreated with someone else, (or I did) once and for all wiping out any dillusions I had dreamt up or summoned in the wake of our crossing paths. As quickly as he had come to New York, he could have left and probably may have—but I didn't know, and didn't care; it would be futile to believe he would come to rescue me, even if it was what I wanted and needed so much that I couldn't bear the thought of anything more than just departing the entire world. Earlier, even though I had been pressed for time to make it to the gym, having spent the day of course collecting my things and trying to figure a way out ot the homeless box I had built my way into, still stressing the somehow ‘need' to publish the entirety or the 6th season so that I could go on hiatus— It really hadn't occurred to me for more than a moment that Sonny might be listening to my podcast at all, besides listening to Renaissance which I had briefly vaulted, having worked out to it too much and beyond honestly hating myself for not being either Skrillex, or perhaps even more disappointingly, Beyoncè—and either one would have done— I retracted my last couple steps, doubling back to the discotheque—All Night Skate—where I had already asked for a job one of my first nights in Brooklyn, collecting the number of the manager but having lost it, deleting it by accident— INT. ALL NIGHT SKATE. 12:56 AM I realized it was nearly closing time; I had stopped back by after Equinox to write, hoping to music mine whatever the DJ was playing, my body strangely acting and writing quite automatically, with reason to live, shaken suddenly alive by an unidentifiable bass sound seated safely on While 1>2, and still seeking purpose Bryan eno complex heaven Terrors in my head The two songs mixed perfectly into my minds eye as I left, snapping photos for albums yet to be written, and wondering whether or not I would live long enough to write them, or to mix the two songs which had so perfectly mixed—one playing in my headphones and the other over the PA system—and wondering how less than an hour earlier I had experienced a sound I had heard at least a hundred times under the arches of my feet. Oh, wow. ‘Errors In My Bread' The numbers 404 had always triggered the thought: Error, perhaps suggesting even I myself was nothing more than just a simulation or computer of some sort, a robotic formulation of all that had been programmed and crated to exist in the way that I had, a short circuit or some kind of malfunction; I'd trickled into Equinox at precisely 9:52, which allowed me exactly 8 minutes to prepare to record the beginning of the closing announcements at 10:00 for the Equinox + EP, peel off my outer layer of clothes, and pour into the sauna for at least 15 minutes, squeezing in a light workout—warranted, considering I had spent the entirety of the day before at the club, auditioning the rest of the 6th season between the sauna and steamroom, Suffering the Skrillex that had descended onto the city I neither loved nor lived in—which might have totaled altogether about 4 hours in the sauna alone, and what seemed like 56 gallons of sweat—but I was grasping at straws, searching for random numbers to complete my thoughts. I had left Manhattan, as usual, at 11:00 PM as Sports Club closed—pulling my belongings from locker 403, with locker number 404 catching my attention from out of the corner or my eye—and as tears gushed from my face, blasted through the revolving doors—-there was indeed an Error in my Bread, and so to self soothe as usual only seemed fitting, as the words began to pour from my fingertips once more. ‘Not Your Mother's Drag Night' had ended, and the either irony or synchronicity subtly toyed with my inherent need for survival and awestruck emotions, as the last and final episode of the 6th season, which I had already named [Not Your Mother's Episode] before arriving to my Equinox venture at the party — the episode in which everything I had written, assembled with every entry for the 6th season, to be left in its description —was yet still unreleased; it had been a grueling train ride full of tears, and I had yet to neatly tie together the Jimmy Fallon timeline—the Timmy Turner Timeline, which of course connected the Amanda Bynes timelines and all of the Nickelodeon timelines respectively—and though the Skrillex and Dillon Francis timelines had driven nearly every series in their entireties in one way or another, Sonny's sudden arrival into New York City mere hours after Act III, Part IIhad been posted —indicating that either he himself or someone on his campaign had been listening and reading along with my series, jolting me into a frenzy, of course… (though I had already planned to release the end of the season concurrently—as I had with a majority of the previous seasons, taking a hiatus to regroup after each season conclusion or finale) my homeless-suicidal pattern had shown itself to be cyclical, by now—not that one thing hadn't anything to do with the other, and though someone or something may have found it interesting and entertaining, I myself was growing tired of making a mockery of my own self, remaining unloved, unhoused, and unfelt enough so much so that nothing had really changed—and although the 3rd season's hiatus had warranted the 4th season's Anandar, the 4th seasons return to the United States had of course warranted more racism, capitalistic greed, hereditary confinement, algorithmic condemnation, corporate slavery, and an interesting series of mixtapes—which of course had resulted in the 6th season's hope for a better future, my almost-return to Hollywood via the actual real-life Drake Bell and his man-habits, my mental degradation via lack of privacy, and of course, the empathic enforcement or feeling everything at once besides love, human connection or trust. My ex had texted me some weeks earlier, finally having apologized for cheating and assuring me that his karma had been paid in full—without responding, I simply screenshotted the message for future use on an album cover, deleted Google voice, and reassured myself that if his long-overdue karma for cheating had just now been ‘paid-in-full', that it surely had not been paid in full at all and was only just beginning—as he had never apologized or admitted to anything else he'd done—of course, as our relationship had ended, my re-awakening of creativity had been flourishing; I was always recording, taking samples, and writing down ideas for music I wanted to make—and besides that—openly admitting that he had hit me would probably open a disastrous wormhole of self-realization and shame no true narcissist could take—that which he was, not that I at this point had resented it, besides of course the scarring on my lower lip that had come as a result, the estrangement from my son, or the mental anguish I had suffered—and, looking back, I still could never recount whether I had… Just then, I realized that there was an error in my thinking; I had already been running off my weight at a tremendously rapid pace, working out to Recess in the living room between shifts at the veterinary clinic, where I took pride and joy in running with the greyhounds at then-top speed, racing to Diplo, Doctor P, and Rusko—of course, only stopping to express, my breasts still heavy from lactation, and realizing that it was painful to run with boobs full of anything—let alone, milk—which sometimes I pumped for Annie once her glands had gone dry, donated to the NICU, or winded up in my ex's coffee, because it gave him “superpowers.” This is a weird story. Well, if I tell some of it I have to tell all of it. Why are you even telling some of it? Because someone threw Skrillex in my tent and I should have raped him. You can't rape the willing. This is a sick bitch we're dealing with. How do you know he was willing? (He was wiling.) Idk,bro. He looked sick. Or scared. Or Ill. “ill” Get it. I put the ill in Skrillex Better fix my will forreal This could be my last meal Cause I feel like jumping off a building Or a cliff, Like dead horse point— We're beating/being a dead horse, Aren't we? Or an F'n Pig: Oink Oink! Boisterous, Aren't we boys? Let me annoint you all with oil, On upholstery You want a half, Or a whole thing? I want you to hold— I want you to know me I want you to love me I love you Are you happy? Oh, you fucked up. Oh, you think?! I barely sleep, Then you start showing up in my dreams? I don't believe you, I don't believe in anything but me, And I could be you, maybe Maybe there's a sequel, If we're equal— Or if he isn't evil; Maybe I'll just Evil Kinivel Fuck you people! Maybe I'll go fuxkin sleep with Lil Peep I'll call the reaper, Jesus Weeps, But probably not as much as _________ He's a keeper. Fun fact: when you cry, I cry. Plz. Stop crying. I can't. INT. A FIREY PLANE CRASH Wait. THE BILDERBERG MEETING. Jesus Christ, why is Shia Labouf so fuckin ripped. Ew. Who feeds him. CHICKEN. gross. BEFORE: SHIA LABEOUF ITS ME, I'M IN YOUR DREAMS. Ū Oh noooo… SHIA LABEOUF THE FESTIVAL PROJECT Ū … What. SHIA LABEOUF THE FESTIVAL PROJECT Ū k. SHIA LABEOUF NOW WAKE UP, Ū What? SHIA LABEOUF WAKE—UP. Narcissistic Cannibal- Korn, Skrillex. UP. [C.C. Wakes up, drenched in sweat. ] … … … C.C. …Shia LaBeouf…? (That was an actual dream I had once—give or take a few parts.) Yeah, give or take. Ahem. I probably would have forgotten he existed, too, were it not for that dream—and shortly thereafter… FLASHBACK: C.C. Is binge watching Hot Ones. I want—all the sauce. What's that dudes name. Sean. He seems a little off. Yeah, I bet he's off. E Q U I N O X huh. …huh. INT. THE BILDERBERG MEETING SHIA LABEOUF I DONT GIVE A SINGLE FUCK. ILLUMINATI perfect. SECURITY GET OUT. SHIA LABEOUF I WAS NEVER IN. CHICKEN. Ew. ILLUMINATI SEQUENCE C - GREENLIGNT. Wtf is happening in this show. Idk, but I like it. Where's — CHAL (From season 4) IT DOESNT MAAAAAAATER. Right. CUT BACK TO: INT. A FIREY PLANECRASH. DAY. QUEST FOR FIRE. LOOK TO THE SKIES, YOUNG PADOWAN. oh my god. It's a fire breathing dragon! No, dude, that's a firey plane crash. Fuck. FIRE BREATHING DRAGON. That's a fire breathing dragon. W0W. Which do you think is gonna be more interesting? Neither, I'd rather watch The Legend of SupaCree What time is it on? SUPACREE it's always on. How is that even possible! SUPACREE you're on it, Are you recording me? SUPACREE I record everything. Srsly?! SUPACREE Except lovemaking. … SUPACREE That is private. … SCARY TERRY SEX IS SACRED, BITCH. SUPACREE don't cal me a bitch. … go watch TV. CUT BACK TO: INT. A FIREY PLANE CRASH. DAY [Terror has stricken the passengers of flight 626, as the BOEING 747 plunges rapidly, falling from the sky at an alarming speed, as the airplane decentigrates, falling into pieces] SHIA LABEOUF Does this character not have a name? No, it's literally Shia LaBeouf; he's playing himself. CUT TO: SHIA LABEOUF I'M AN AIR MARSHALL WHEN I'M NOT ACTING Why is he still yelling? SHIA LABEOUF ‘CAUSE I'M IN YOUR DREAMS. CUT BACK TO: Just before: SHIA LABEOUF looks over the rims of his glasses, staring forward at CC/SUPACREE, before lowering his head back down, momentarily pretending to read a magazine from under the brim of his tan cap, obscuring his identity. He places his hand over the gun in his holster, revealing by the golden badge beside it that he is a federal air Marshall (to the audience) before adjusting his brown leather jacket to cover it, squinting conspicuously under his bifocal lenses, peering once more at CC/SUPACREE, and swallowing subtly, licking his lips and flashing away a secondary glimpse of fear in his eyes, before presuming a fierce gaze as he braces for impact, calmly unbuckling his seatbelt. Suddenly, the plane is struck— as the passengers scream and panic in fear, he simply stands up, stabilizing his balance, and moves towards the terrified and hyperventilating SUPACREE. ] Ok. That'll do. What about Drake Bell?! what about Drake Bell!? And Drake And Josh?! AND THE AMANDA SHOW AND ARIANA GRANDE AND ALL THE NICHELODEON KIDS?! It can wait. NO! BUT WHAT ABOUT COSMO + WANDA?! AND SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS AND HEY ARNOLD I never got to Hey Arnold, but I've been thinking about it a lot since I got to New York; but—that's also Nickelodeon, so— BUT WHAT ABOUT DILLON FRANCIS. he's very attractive. WHAt ab0Ut SKriLLeX?! he's also very attractive, And just dropped his album— So we can just assume that the previously mentioned are perhaps both getting their dicks sucked often enough that I don't have to worry about it. Why would you worry about it. CAUSE I'M IN YOUR DREAMS. This is not kid friendly. AHHHHHHHHHH WHAT ABOUT JIMMY FALLON. Everything naughty he says in this series is censored caused he has a contract with NBC. WHERE'S WHOOPI GOLDBERG?! WHO!? I don't like this. I don't like this at all. Then keep scrolling. What about deadmau5. Probably also presumably getting his dick sucked. W0W. I re-entered the apartment at exactly 1:15. BLŪ Of course. And though I had been filled with nothing but words and heartache, I could do no more than to peel off my layers and tumble into the shower, no longer in tears, but still devastated — and somehow dying to know if the Skrillex album just so happened to mark my Deathwish, or restore my faith in humanity…neither of which actually mattered; I had fallen prey once more to the cycle of poverty's destruction and relentlessness, if even by my own doing—the respective love I held for Sonny, Dillon Francis, or anyone else simply a faction of obsessive fandom, my writings a mere glimpse into the unobstructed world of the fourth dimension, which I undoubtedly still believed and was living in, only hoping that I was indeed not the hopeless protagonist to die, in the end—and perhaps, that even if I did, the worlds and works that I had published on The Legend of Supacree, OWSLA Confidential: The Infinite Skrillifiles, Gerald's World, and Enter The Multiverse would stand as the backbone for an unimaginable flurry of Whatever. The End. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE WAR OF WORLDS LEGENDS HOLY WAR EARTH WORLD WAR WATER (WWIII) {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U. Whatever it is-- look, whatever you want, you can have and I'll give you my love, when I've got it I'm sorry, I don't mean to fiend for a friend; If I lend you my pen, just remember: I've got nothing. listen, I've got nothing left: If you want my best friend, (Perhaps, again) then here's her address, Dillon Not that I would either wish this shit on either of you imbicles: a missile hit the plane where I and Shia were. If you were wondering- but then again, I have been meditating lately, dreaming dreams that drive me crazy wiahing I were so amazing that you'd have to date me and masterbating and fabricating traffic comes and slander, Praying for a savior, pay, and baby making it's okay, though Dillon Francis I didn't mean for this to happen; and you'd have to practice magic for the Amethyst I have for you to act like that (it fucking levitated) anyway, I know you're probably at a rave with 80 ladies and a bunch of people yelling out your name, and some hot babe who looks like Hailey Bieber naked, patiently waiting to mate with you: And I can't wait for you to make it public so I hate you and just space cadet with no regrets not laying with you in my head, like it has been- since my ex, then Kayla Lauren; this is probably boring I should be snoring someone one's outside coughing anyway, I should get going-- but you should know, I'd blow you If I blow up and Sonny never shows up as my beux, but maybe ya'll are bros, huh? fuck. I love C u P C A K E S

I fell into a dream with you last night And when I woke I had to cry And when I looked inside your eyes I had to realize they were mine Now I'm alive And in alignment Something like a diamond shines inside It's just another night Our love is just inside my mind I had to hide it Your highness Right on time. As expected. Hey, I just wanted you to know: Your evil shamanic curse worked( I've been homeless since I left you and demonic forces follow me everywhere So I'm going to kill myself eventually Just the way you hoped I would So no one will have to know that you hit me so hard it made me lose my mind You have an evil spirit and a heartless soul and nobody will ever love you except for our son— So just tell him I love him You fucking win Your curse worked Every single person you ever try to love will cheat and lie to you Just like you did to me And the only reason I don't wish homelessness and suicide onto you Like you wished onto me Is because you have our son Thanks for ruining my life I hope there's heaven on the other side I fucking hate you You're fucking evil You fat stupid retarded motherfucker —but I didn't text him that, of course I wanted to; But in my heart and soul, I knew it would be the end of me, And that he'd know he really had won— And though I didn't want to give him the power or the light of day, I knew I was cursed, Followed by coughing demons, pretty, skinny women, mindfucked by Skrillex and Dillon Francis and set to die in the streets with nothing to eat, nowhere to go, and nothing to lose but myself, not that it mattered— It would be a quiet suicide, And my son might never know I died alone and homeless in New York City; But i loved him the most And the hole in my heart that made me a ghost was shaped just like him ; And though I had nothing left but love to give, Which meant nothing in a cruel and loveless world made of money, The best that I could do was just to love him, And hope that on the other side would be heaven, Where I could know him again I just passed the white rabbit; I'd laugh at it, if I weren't rabid with absolute madness I've had it! I can't stand it I mismanaged My finances, It's fine, actually; I've got enough time (Money) To climb the Empire The Devil's a Liar, But so am I, And God's a bird on a wire How inspiring I'm one off of everything, I can't run, when I'm too busy thinking “Where the fuxk am I gonna sleep” Tomorrow, I can pawn my drum machine— That buys me one more night in a nice dream A nice clean apartment in Brooklyn, Some rice and beans; Another dream… ‘Is it supposed to be a secret?' I really had fallen in love with Sonny, but it didn't seem to matter anymore about anything—I didn't have what I needed at all—and the irony and reality was setting in that the Sonny was dropping his album on the exact day that I would run out of everything—out of money for food, a place to sleep…everything. I had loved him so wholehearly that I had recorded ïambīc; only to be devastated in the following weeks with the discovery that he had been spending time with Kayla Laurenc who I didn't exactly despise, as much as I resented—as in all of my life, girls like her had always gotten ahead and gotten everything I wanted, without even trying—just because they looked the way they did—and, at least by all the people I had been around, even my mother—I was ugly, fat, and retarded. Perhaps he did operate on the Devil's power, with my ex husband; I was homeless, at least not yet hungry, but on my way to it—and finally, out of “nowhere”, Sonny being Skrillex was in New York, releasing the album we had all been waiting for. I was either being cruicified or… Connected to a greater purpose, but it hurt either way—and either way I wanted to end it. Every time I dreamt of Dillon, it was of his entire family—in fact, I had almost forgotten that he had a brother at all; it didn't make sense to me, actually I had stopped breathing. I was crying quietly from the moment I left Equinox—I had done my best not to, but couldn't help it entirely. It had been too long since I had any sense of security. I tossed my head back to keep the tears from rolling down my cheeks, staring up with widened eyes, which suddenly focused on the digital LCD screen, flashing the streets at which the train would stop; I was of course sitting directly beneath the stop for 88th street—Sonny's birth year, and a number that had repeatedly jumped out to me since our “meeting”. ‘Why would he do this to me?' Maybe this is all supposed to murder me. My ex husband had been tied to White Supremacy; “I belong to an organization that will kill you and bury you somewhere no one will ever find you.” He once said—one of the things which lead to my attempt—or completing, alternatively, suicide. “You know why I have the power to control demons?” Another notion which had the tendency to repeat itself in my mind, whenever a demonic energy found its way to me, in the form of a skinny, attractive woman or a coughing homeless person, in the form of Kayla Lauren, Dillon Francis, or even Sonny—and though none of the latter two actually ever seemed like actual demons, at least to me—the demonic energy was in knowing that someone like me, in reality, could never deserve or afford someone like Sonny, or Dillon respectively—and although the attraction that I felt to either of them was extreme wrnough to me, and could even be called love, the truth was that the effect of fame meant that it wasn't just me, but hundreds of thousands of other human beings like me, better than me, more attractive than me—and with a better perception of reality that would make more ideal partners, mates, and lovers, and that my own perception of beauty and self love had been shattered by Society. Maybe don't post this. What does it matter? What am I supposed to believe? That Sonny's come to New York to rescue me and take me to freedom—that with someone like me he'd be actually happy? That everything in my head, in my heart, in my mind—the belief that we were meant to be is actually reality? He has every reason and every right to be wary of me. I had read about the teenaged girl that had become obsessed with Drake Bell, following him to all his shows and eventually, even becoming close with him; texting back and forth, and from the looks of it—probably even meeting, hanging out together and who knows what else exactly, besides the man himself and God, on whose behalf it sometimes seeemed I was acting, however— “New York Or Nowhere” Oh shit. The orange and blue basketballs on the fabric clutch held under the arm of the man in front of me distracted my mind for a moment from my writing; the color orange had always reminded me of Dillon, because it was so prevalent in the music which had first captivated me, even before I knew who Dillon Francis was exactly, and had somehow managed to have implanted the notion —especially after the realization that he was, in fact, using magic— that perhaps such a gifted shapeshifter had learned to even transform himself into an object that was inanimate; a traffic cone, whatever that meant. [DON'T HIT ME.] Years had passed since the idea had been established, and though I couldn't seem to remember how I had first actually imagined it, besides listening to what probably may have been ‘too much' Dillon Francis, an entire storyline had been written, as Dillon Francis, having become at some point captain of The Bampheraphs, had instructed the other Insomniacs, Bampheramphs, Motherfuckers, and DJs to also transform into the very simple, very inanimate traffic cones— and though Skrillex, or Sonny—was also given an extreme amount of power and magic, especially even the ability to become inanimate himself, or, “The Inanimate Skrillex”, as it had once been written—as it remarkably turned out, Skrillex would find that he could be every color traffic cone besides Neon Orange—which, as the curator of such an idea, had, over time, become both comedic and tragic—as everywhere I seemed to go, tended to produce strangely colored tragic cones at random. ‘That did happen' Maybe all this means Is when I find the bravery To finally fly, or something… INT. AIRPLANE. DAY BLŪ is seated in a window seat towards the back of a BOEING 747. Oh man, this scene. Sometimes my worst nightmares are airplane crashes, actually. Since I could remember, maybe from the age of about two or three—I would dream awful tragedies—‘nightmares, or night terrors, actually—tornadoes, horrible fires and burning buildings and sometimes, airplane crashes, which even to this day, haunt me when I sleep. You know, nobody has a ticket to the soul train. What. You just jump. Trains in New York do come suicide fast. I was on the platform and still almost got hit! Okay, this isn't really funny anymore, is it? No. Suddenly, a sound rang out into my ears and Ugh, it's hard to write when you want to die this much ‘Why do you want to die this much? I had extended my air bnb for one more night, but it meant giving up one of my drum machines go to the pawn shop—the one which I had just reclaimed from the pawn shop in Las Vegas, and seemed an entire waste, as it was the heaviest thing in all my luggage, and I had dragged it across the country in order to use it as a performance piece to give myself an edge over the other DJs who simply mixed—But, as it turned out, of course, the world, “especially New York”, was over saturated with DJs— though I had done what I could, or most of what I could, to get a head start, I had so much work backed up that in the two weeks since I had left my job in LA, that it didn't matter now that I even had my drum machine with me—I was scrambling to gather money to keep a place to sleep, and so the drum machine would have to go in the morning, in exchange for one or two more nights of housing—and with any luck or by the grace or God I could somehow fish it back out of the pawn shop in some weeks or months time—not that I enjoyed the idea of going back into the workforce as anything but an artist—but so far, this artist that I was had been the lowest of all the low paying jobs I had ever had. ‘What is that?' I had heard the album over and over—it had infinite replay value, of course, and I was using its tones and auras to dry my tears on the long train back to Brooklyn from Manhattan—but, in this moment, as I exited the subway station and made my way down my usual route back to the flat I had depleted my entire savings on staying in—the sound shook through my entirety, rumbling strangely into the arcs of my feet and even stopping me dead in my tracks for a moment, ringing strangely in my chest and into the palms of my hands, up my shoulders and into my hollow lungs, wrapping around my heart, and colliding with the very odd thought “I gotta stay alive to ask Joel what that was.” How bizarre. It was past midnight—and now that I was above ground, I hadn't thought to check again if the new Skrillex album was being released on East Coast time, where Sonny supposedly still was, or if it might not be available until later; and I hadn't thought to look or try to check Instagram again—I had only been on Instagram anyway in hopes of finding a job—and had only checked the Skrillex Instagram hoping that I would see something that would make the way I felt about Sonny stop, by now, suddenly realizing that it never would until he married or procreated with someone else, (or I did) once and for all wiping out any dillusions I had dreamt up or summoned in the wake of our crossing paths. As quickly as he had come to New York, he could have left and probably may have—but I didn't know, and didn't care; it would be futile to believe he would come to rescue me, even if it was what I wanted and needed so much that I couldn't bear the thought of anything more than just departing the entire world. Earlier, even though I had been pressed for time to make it to the gym, having spent the day of course collecting my things and trying to figure a way out ot the homeless box I had built my way into, still stressing the somehow ‘need' to publish the entirety or the 6th season so that I could go on hiatus— It really hadn't occurred to me for more than a moment that Sonny might be listening to my podcast at all, besides listening to Renaissance which I had briefly vaulted, having worked out to it too much and beyond honestly hating myself for not being either Skrillex, or perhaps even more disappointingly, Beyoncè—and either one would have done— I retracted my last couple steps, doubling back to the discotheque—All Night Skate—where I had already asked for a job one of my first nights in Brooklyn, collecting the number of the manager but having lost it, deleting it by accident— INT. ALL NIGHT SKATE. 12:56 AM I realized it was nearly closing time; I had stopped back by after Equinox to write, hoping to music mine whatever the DJ was playing, my body strangely acting and writing quite automatically, with reason to live, shaken suddenly alive by an unidentifiable bass sound seated safely on While 1>2, and still seeking purpose Bryan eno complex heaven Terrors in my head The two songs mixed perfectly into my minds eye as I left, snapping photos for albums yet to be written, and wondering whether or not I would live long enough to write them, or to mix the two songs which had so perfectly mixed—one playing in my headphones and the other over the PA system—and wondering how less than an hour earlier I had experienced a sound I had heard at least a hundred times under the arches of my feet. Oh, wow. ‘Errors In My Bread' The numbers 404 had always triggered the thought: Error, perhaps suggesting even I myself was nothing more than just a simulation or computer of some sort, a robotic formulation of all that had been programmed and crated to exist in the way that I had, a short circuit or some kind of malfunction; I'd trickled into Equinox at precisely 9:52, which allowed me exactly 8 minutes to prepare to record the beginning of the closing announcements at 10:00 for the Equinox + EP, peel off my outer layer of clothes, and pour into the sauna for at least 15 minutes, squeezing in a light workout—warranted, considering I had spent the entirety of the day before at the club, auditioning the rest of the 6th season between the sauna and steamroom, Suffering the Skrillex that had descended onto the city I neither loved nor lived in—which might have totaled altogether about 4 hours in the sauna alone, and what seemed like 56 gallons of sweat—but I was grasping at straws, searching for random numbers to complete my thoughts. I had left Manhattan, as usual, at 11:00 PM as Sports Club closed—pulling my belongings from locker 403, with locker number 404 catching my attention from out of the corner or my eye—and as tears gushed from my face, blasted through the revolving doors—-there was indeed an Error in my Bread, and so to self soothe as usual only seemed fitting, as the words began to pour from my fingertips once more. ‘Not Your Mother's Drag Night' had ended, and the either irony or synchronicity subtly toyed with my inherent need for survival and awestruck emotions, as the last and final episode of the 6th season, which I had already named [Not Your Mother's Episode] before arriving to my Equinox venture at the party — the episode in which everything I had written, assembled with every entry for the 6th season, to be left in its description —was yet still unreleased; it had been a grueling train ride full of tears, and I had yet to neatly tie together the Jimmy Fallon timeline—the Timmy Turner Timeline, which of course connected the Amanda Bynes timelines and all of the Nickelodeon timelines respectively—and though the Skrillex and Dillon Francis timelines had driven nearly every series in their entireties in one way or another, Sonny's sudden arrival into New York City mere hours after Act III, Part IIhad been posted —indicating that either he himself or someone on his campaign had been listening and reading along with my series, jolting me into a frenzy, of course… (though I had already planned to release the end of the season concurrently—as I had with a majority of the previous seasons, taking a hiatus to regroup after each season conclusion or finale) my homeless-suicidal pattern had shown itself to be cyclical, by now—not that one thing hadn't anything to do with the other, and though someone or something may have found it interesting and entertaining, I myself was growing tired of making a mockery of my own self, remaining unloved, unhoused, and unfelt enough so much so that nothing had really changed—and although the 3rd season's hiatus had warranted the 4th season's Anandar, the 4th seasons return to the United States had of course warranted more racism, capitalistic greed, hereditary confinement, algorithmic condemnation, corporate slavery, and an interesting series of mixtapes—which of course had resulted in the 6th season's hope for a better future, my almost-return to Hollywood via the actual real-life Drake Bell and his man-habits, my mental degradation via lack of privacy, and of course, the empathic enforcement or feeling everything at once besides love, human connection or trust. My ex had texted me some weeks earlier, finally having apologized for cheating and assuring me that his karma had been paid in full—without responding, I simply screenshotted the message for future use on an album cover, deleted Google voice, and reassured myself that if his long-overdue karma for cheating had just now been ‘paid-in-full', that it surely had not been paid in full at all and was only just beginning—as he had never apologized or admitted to anything else he'd done—of course, as our relationship had ended, my re-awakening of creativity had been flourishing; I was always recording, taking samples, and writing down ideas for music I wanted to make—and besides that—openly admitting that he had hit me would probably open a disastrous wormhole of self-realization and shame no true narcissist could take—that which he was, not that I at this point had resented it, besides of course the scarring on my lower lip that had come as a result, the estrangement from my son, or the mental anguish I had suffered—and, looking back, I still could never recount whether I had… Just then, I realized that there was an error in my thinking; I had already been running off my weight at a tremendously rapid pace, working out to Recess in the living room between shifts at the veterinary clinic, where I took pride and joy in running with the greyhounds at then-top speed, racing to Diplo, Doctor P, and Rusko—of course, only stopping to express, my breasts still heavy from lactation, and realizing that it was painful to run with boobs full of anything—let alone, milk—which sometimes I pumped for Annie once her glands had gone dry, donated to the NICU, or winded up in my ex's coffee, because it gave him “superpowers.” This is a weird story. Well, if I tell some of it I have to tell all of it. Why are you even telling some of it? Because someone threw Skrillex in my tent and I should have raped him. You can't rape the willing. This is a sick bitch we're dealing with. How do you know he was willing? (He was wiling.) Idk,bro. He looked sick. Or scared. Or Ill. “ill” Get it. I put the ill in Skrillex Better fix my will forreal This could be my last meal Cause I feel like jumping off a building Or a cliff, Like dead horse point— We're beating/being a dead horse, Aren't we? Or an F'n Pig: Oink Oink! Boisterous, Aren't we boys? Let me annoint you all with oil, On upholstery You want a half, Or a whole thing? I want you to hold— I want you to know me I want you to love me I love you Are you happy? Oh, you fucked up. Oh, you think?! I barely sleep, Then you start showing up in my dreams? I don't believe you, I don't believe in anything but me, And I could be you, maybe Maybe there's a sequel, If we're equal— Or if he isn't evil; Maybe I'll just Evil Kinivel Fuck you people! Maybe I'll go fuxkin sleep with Lil Peep I'll call the reaper, Jesus Weeps, But probably not as much as _________ He's a keeper. Fun fact: when you cry, I cry. Plz. Stop crying. I can't. INT. A FIREY PLANE CRASH Wait. THE BILDERBERG MEETING. Jesus Christ, why is Shia Labouf so fuckin ripped. Ew. Who feeds him. CHICKEN. gross. BEFORE: SHIA LABEOUF ITS ME, I'M IN YOUR DREAMS. Ū Oh noooo… SHIA LABEOUF THE FESTIVAL PROJECT Ū … What. SHIA LABEOUF THE FESTIVAL PROJECT Ū k. SHIA LABEOUF NOW WAKE UP, Ū What? SHIA LABEOUF WAKE—UP. Narcissistic Cannibal- Korn, Skrillex. UP. [C.C. Wakes up, drenched in sweat. ] … … … C.C. …Shia LaBeouf…? (That was an actual dream I had once—give or take a few parts.) Yeah, give or take. Ahem. I probably would have forgotten he existed, too, were it not for that dream—and shortly thereafter… FLASHBACK: C.C. Is binge watching Hot Ones. I want—all the sauce. What's that dudes name. Sean. He seems a little off. Yeah, I bet he's off. E Q U I N O X huh. …huh. INT. THE BILDERBERG MEETING SHIA LABEOUF I DONT GIVE A SINGLE FUCK. ILLUMINATI perfect. SECURITY GET OUT. SHIA LABEOUF I WAS NEVER IN. CHICKEN. Ew. ILLUMINATI SEQUENCE C - GREENLIGNT. Wtf is happening in this show. Idk, but I like it. Where's — CHAL (From season 4) IT DOESNT MAAAAAAATER. Right. CUT BACK TO: INT. A FIREY PLANECRASH. DAY. QUEST FOR FIRE. LOOK TO THE SKIES, YOUNG PADOWAN. oh my god. It's a fire breathing dragon! No, dude, that's a firey plane crash. Fuck. FIRE BREATHING DRAGON. That's a fire breathing dragon. W0W. Which do you think is gonna be more interesting? Neither, I'd rather watch The Legend of SupaCree What time is it on? SUPACREE it's always on. How is that even possible! SUPACREE you're on it, Are you recording me? SUPACREE I record everything. Srsly?! SUPACREE Except lovemaking. … SUPACREE That is private. … SCARY TERRY SEX IS SACRED, BITCH. SUPACREE don't cal me a bitch. … go watch TV. CUT BACK TO: INT. A FIREY PLANE CRASH. DAY [Terror has stricken the passengers of flight 626, as the BOEING 747 plunges rapidly, falling from the sky at an alarming speed, as the airplane decentigrates, falling into pieces] SHIA LABEOUF Does this character not have a name? No, it's literally Shia LaBeouf; he's playing himself. CUT TO: SHIA LABEOUF I'M AN AIR MARSHALL WHEN I'M NOT ACTING Why is he still yelling? SHIA LABEOUF ‘CAUSE I'M IN YOUR DREAMS. CUT BACK TO: Just before: SHIA LABEOUF looks over the rims of his glasses, staring forward at CC/SUPACREE, before lowering his head back down, momentarily pretending to read a magazine from under the brim of his tan cap, obscuring his identity. He places his hand over the gun in his holster, revealing by the golden badge beside it that he is a federal air Marshall (to the audience) before adjusting his brown leather jacket to cover it, squinting conspicuously under his bifocal lenses, peering once more at CC/SUPACREE, and swallowing subtly, licking his lips and flashing away a secondary glimpse of fear in his eyes, before presuming a fierce gaze as he braces for impact, calmly unbuckling his seatbelt. Suddenly, the plane is struck— as the passengers scream and panic in fear, he simply stands up, stabilizing his balance, and moves towards the terrified and hyperventilating SUPACREE. ] Ok. That'll do. What about Drake Bell?! what about Drake Bell!? And Drake And Josh?! AND THE AMANDA SHOW AND ARIANA GRANDE AND ALL THE NICHELODEON KIDS?! It can wait. NO! BUT WHAT ABOUT COSMO + WANDA?! AND SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS AND HEY ARNOLD I never got to Hey Arnold, but I've been thinking about it a lot since I got to New York; but—that's also Nickelodeon, so— BUT WHAT ABOUT DILLON FRANCIS. he's very attractive. WHAt ab0Ut SKriLLeX?! he's also very attractive, And just dropped his album— So we can just assume that the previously mentioned are perhaps both getting their dicks sucked often enough that I don't have to worry about it. Why would you worry about it. CAUSE I'M IN YOUR DREAMS. This is not kid friendly. AHHHHHHHHHH WHAT ABOUT JIMMY FALLON. Everything naughty he says in this series is censored caused he has a contract with NBC. WHERE'S WHOOPI GOLDBERG?! WHO!? I don't like this. I don't like this at all. Then keep scrolling. What about deadmau5. Probably also presumably getting his dick sucked. W0W. I re-entered the apartment at exactly 1:15. BLŪ Of course. And though I had been filled with nothing but words and heartache, I could do no more than to peel off my layers and tumble into the shower, no longer in tears, but still devastated — and somehow dying to know if the Skrillex album just so happened to mark my Deathwish, or restore my faith in humanity…neither of which actually mattered; I had fallen prey once more to the cycle of poverty's destruction and relentlessness, if even by my own doing—the respective love I held for Sonny, Dillon Francis, or anyone else simply a faction of obsessive fandom, my writings a mere glimpse into the unobstructed world of the fourth dimension, which I undoubtedly still believed and was living in, only hoping that I was indeed not the hopeless protagonist to die, in the end—and perhaps, that even if I did, the worlds and works that I had published on The Legend of Supacree, OWSLA Confidential: The Infinite Skrillifiles, Gerald's World, and Enter The Multiverse would stand as the backbone for an unimaginable flurry of Whatever. The End. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE WAR OF WORLDS LEGENDS HOLY WAR EARTH WORLD WAR WATER (WWIII) I fell into a dream with you last night And when I woke I had to cry And when I looked inside your eyes I had to realize they were mine Now I'm alive And in alignment Something like a diamond shines inside It's just another night Our love is just inside my mind I had to hide it Your highness Right on time. As expected. Hey, I just wanted you to know: Your evil shamanic curse worked( I've been homeless since I left you and demonic forces follow me everywhere So I'm going to kill myself eventually Just the way you hoped I would So no one will have to know that you hit me so hard it made me lose my mind You have an evil spirit and a heartless soul and nobody will ever love you except for our son— So just tell him I love him You fucking win Your curse worked Every single person you ever try to love will cheat and lie to you Just like you did to me And the only reason I don't wish homelessness and suicide onto you Like you wished onto me Is because you have our son Thanks for ruining my life I hope there's heaven on the other side I fucking hate you You're fucking evil You fat stupid retarded motherfucker —but I didn't text him that, of course I wanted to; But in my heart and soul, I knew it would be the end of me, And that he'd know he really had won— And though I didn't want to give him the power or the light of day, I knew I was cursed, Followed by coughing demons, pretty, skinny women, mindfucked by Skrillex and Dillon Francis and set to die in the streets with nothing to eat, nowhere to go, and nothing to lose but myself, not that it mattered— It would be a quiet suicide, And my son might never know I died alone and homeless in New York City; But i loved him the most And the hole in my heart that made me a ghost was shaped just like him ; And though I had nothing left but love to give, Which meant nothing in a cruel and loveless world made of money, The best that I could do was just to love him, And hope that on the other side would be heaven, Where I could know him again I just passed the white rabbit; I'd laugh at it, if I weren't rabid with absolute madness I've had it! I can't stand it I mismanaged My finances, It's fine, actually; I've got enough time (Money) To climb the Empire The Devil's a Liar, But so am I, And God's a bird on a wire How inspiring I'm one off of everything, I can't run, when I'm too busy thinking “Where the fuxk am I gonna sleep” Tomorrow, I can pawn my drum machine— That buys me one more night in a nice dream A nice clean apartment in Brooklyn, Some rice and beans; Another dream… ‘Is it supposed to be a secret?' I really had fallen in love with Sonny, but it didn't seem to matter anymore about anything—I didn't have what I needed at all—and the irony and reality was setting in that the Sonny was dropping his album on the exact day that I would run out of everything—out of money for food, a place to sleep…everything. I had loved him so wholehearly that I had recorded ïambīc; only to be devastated in the following weeks with the discovery that he had been spending time with Kayla Laurenc who I didn't exactly despise, as much as I resented—as in all of my life, girls like her had always gotten ahead and gotten everything I wanted, without even trying—just because they looked the way they did—and, at least by all the people I had been around, even my mother—I was ugly, fat, and retarded. Perhaps he did operate on the Devil's power, with my ex husband; I was homeless, at least not yet hungry, but on my way to it—and finally, out of “nowhere”, Sonny being Skrillex was in New York, releasing the album we had all been waiting for. I was either being cruicified or… Connected to a greater purpose, but it hurt either way—and either way I wanted to end it. Every time I dreamt of Dillon, it was of his entire family—in fact, I had almost forgotten that he had a brother at all; it didn't make sense to me, actually I had stopped breathing. I was crying quietly from the moment I left Equinox—I had done my best not to, but couldn't help it entirely. It had been too long since I had any sense of security. I tossed my head back to keep the tears from rolling down my cheeks, staring up with widened eyes, which suddenly focused on the digital LCD screen, flashing the streets at which the train would stop; I was of course sitting directly beneath the stop for 88th street—Sonny's birth year, and a number that had repeatedly jumped out to me since our “meeting”. ‘Why would he do this to me?' Maybe this is all supposed to murder me. My ex husband had been tied to White Supremacy; “I belong to an organization that will kill you and bury you somewhere no one will ever find you.” He once said—one of the things which lead to my attempt—or completing, alternatively, suicide. “You know why I have the power to control demons?” Another notion which had the tendency to repeat itself in my mind, whenever a demonic energy found its way to me, in the form of a skinny, attractive woman or a coughing homeless person, in the form of Kayla Lauren, Dillon Francis, or even Sonny—and though none of the latter two actually ever seemed like actual demons, at least to me—the demonic energy was in knowing that someone like me, in reality, could never deserve or afford someone like Sonny, or Dillon respectively—and although the attraction that I felt to either of them was extreme wrnough to me, and could even be called love, the truth was that the effect of fame meant that it wasn't just me, but hundreds of thousands of other human beings like me, better than me, more attractive than me—and with a better perception of reality that would make more ideal partners, mates, and lovers, and that my own perception of beauty and self love had been shattered by Society. Maybe don't post this. What does it matter? What am I supposed to believe? That Sonny's come to New York to rescue me and take me to freedom—that with someone like me he'd be actually happy? That everything in my head, in my heart, in my mind—the belief that we were meant to be is actually reality? He has every reason and every right to be wary of me. I had read about the teenaged girl that had become obsessed with Drake Bell, following him to all his shows and eventually, even becoming close with him; texting back and forth, and from the looks of it—probably even meeting, hanging out together and who knows what else exactly, besides the man himself and God, on whose behalf it sometimes seeemed I was acting, however— “New York Or Nowhere” Oh shit. The orange and blue basketballs on the fabric clutch held under the arm of the man in front of me distracted my mind for a moment from my writing; the color orange had always reminded me of Dillon, because it was so prevalent in the music which had first captivated me, even before I knew who Dillon Francis was exactly, and had somehow managed to have implanted the notion —especially after the realization that he was, in fact, using magic— that perhaps such a gifted shapeshifter had learned to even transform himself into an object that was inanimate; a traffic cone, whatever that meant. [DON'T HIT ME.] Years had passed since the idea had been established, and though I couldn't seem to remember how I had first actually imagined it, besides listening to what probably may have been ‘too much' Dillon Francis, an entire storyline had been written, as Dillon Francis, having become at some point captain of The Bampheraphs, had instructed the other Insomniacs, Bampheramphs, Motherfuckers, and DJs to also transform into the very simple, very inanimate traffic cones— and though Skrillex, or Sonny—was also given an extreme amount of power and magic, especially even the ability to become inanimate himself, or, “The Inanimate Skrillex”, as it had once been written—as it remarkably turned out, Skrillex would find that he could be every color traffic cone besides Neon Orange—which, as the curator of such an idea, had, over time, become both comedic and tragic—as everywhere I seemed to go, tended to produce strangely colored tragic cones at random. ‘That did happen' Maybe all this means Is when I find the bravery To finally fly, or something… INT. AIRPLANE. DAY BLŪ is seated in a window seat towards the back of a BOEING 747. Oh man, this scene. Sometimes my worst nightmares are airplane crashes, actually. Since I could remember, maybe from the age of about two or three—I would dream awful tragedies—‘nightmares, or night terrors, actually—tornadoes, horrible fires and burning buildings and sometimes, airplane crashes, which even to this day, haunt me when I sleep. You know, nobody has a ticket to the soul train. What. You just jump. Trains in New York do come suicide fast. I was on the platform and still almost got hit! Okay, this isn't really funny anymore, is it? No. Suddenly, a sound rang out into my ears and Ugh, it's hard to write when you want to die this much ‘Why do you want to die this much? I had extended my air bnb for one more night, but it meant giving up one of my drum machines go to the pawn shop—the one which I had just reclaimed from the pawn shop in Las Vegas, and seemed an entire waste, as it was the heaviest thing in all my luggage, and I had dragged it across the country in order to use it as a performance piece to give myself an edge over the other DJs who simply mixed—But, as it turned out, of course, the world, “especially New York”, was over saturated with DJs— though I had done what I could, or most of what I could, to get a head start, I had so much work backed up that in the two weeks since I had left my job in LA, that it didn't matter now that I even had my drum machine with me—I was scrambling to gather money to keep a place to sleep, and so the drum machine would have to go in the morning, in exchange for one or two more nights of housing—and with any luck or by the grace or God I could somehow fish it back out of the pawn shop in some weeks or months time—not that I enjoyed the idea of going back into the workforce as anything but an artist—but so far, this artist that I was had been the lowest of all the low paying jobs I had ever had. ‘What is that?' I had heard the album over and over—it had infinite replay value, of course, and I was using its tones and auras to dry my tears on the long train back to Brooklyn from Manhattan—but, in this moment, as I exited the subway station and made my way down my usual route back to the flat I had depleted my entire savings on staying in—the sound shook through my entirety, rumbling strangely into the arcs of my feet and even stopping me dead in my tracks for a moment, ringing strangely in my chest and into the palms of my hands, up my shoulders and into my hollow lungs, wrapping around my heart, and colliding with the very odd thought “I gotta stay alive to ask Joel what that was.” How bizarre. It was past midnight—and now that I was above ground, I hadn't thought to check again if the new Skrillex album was being released on East Coast time, where Sonny supposedly still was, or if it might not be available until later; and I hadn't thought to look or try to check Instagram again—I had only been on Instagram anyway in hopes of finding a job—and had only checked the Skrillex Instagram hoping that I would see something that would make the way I felt about Sonny stop, by now, suddenly realizing that it never would until he married or procreated with someone else, (or I did) once and for all wiping out any dillusions I had dreamt up or summoned in the wake of our crossing paths. As quickly as he had come to New York, he could have left and probably may have—but I didn't know, and didn't care; it would be futile to believe he would come to rescue me, even if it was what I wanted and needed so much that I couldn't bear the thought of anything more than just departing the entire world. Earlier, even though I had been pressed for time to make it to the gym, having spent the day of course collecting my things and trying to figure a way out ot the homeless box I had built my way into, still stressing the somehow ‘need' to publish the entirety or the 6th season so that I could go on hiatus— It really hadn't occurred to me for more than a moment that Sonny might be listening to my podcast at all, besides listening to Renaissance which I had briefly vaulted, having worked out to it too much and beyond honestly hating myself for not being either Skrillex, or perhaps even more disappointingly, Beyoncè—and either one would have done— I retracted my last couple steps, doubling back to the discotheque—All Night Skate—where I had already asked for a job one of my first nights in Brooklyn, collecting the number of the manager but having lost it, deleting it by accident— INT. ALL NIGHT SKATE. 12:56 AM I realized it was nearly closing time; I had stopped back by after Equinox to write, hoping to music mine whatever the DJ was playing, my body strangely acting and writing quite automatically, with reason to live, shaken suddenly alive by an unidentifiable bass sound seated safely on While 1>2, and still seeking purpose Bryan eno complex heaven Terrors in my head The two songs mixed perfectly into my minds eye as I left, snapping photos for albums yet to be written, and wondering whether or not I would live long enough to write them, or to mix the two songs which had so perfectly mixed—one playing in my headphones and the other over the PA system—and wondering how less than an hour earlier I had experienced a sound I had heard at least a hundred times under the arches of my feet. Oh, wow. ‘Errors In My Bread' The numbers 404 had always triggered the thought: Error, perhaps suggesting even I myself was nothing more than just a simulation or computer of some sort, a robotic formulation of all that had been programmed and crated to exist in the way that I had, a short circuit or some kind of malfunction; I'd trickled into Equinox at precisely 9:52, which allowed me exactly 8 minutes to prepare to record the beginning of the closing announcements at 10:00 for the Equinox + EP, peel off my outer layer of clothes, and pour into the sauna for at least 15 minutes, squeezing in a light workout—warranted, considering I had spent the entirety of the day before at the club, auditioning the rest of the 6th season between the sauna and steamroom, Suffering the Skrillex that had descended onto the city I neither loved nor lived in—which might have totaled altogether about 4 hours in the sauna alone, and what seemed like 56 gallons of sweat—but I was grasping at straws, searching for random numbers to complete my thoughts. I had left Manhattan, as usual, at 11:00 PM as Sports Club closed—pulling my belongings from locker 403, with locker number 404 catching my attention from out of the corner or my eye—and as tears gushed from my face, blasted through the revolving doors—-there was indeed an Error in my Bread, and so to self soothe as usual only seemed fitting, as the words began to pour from my fingertips once more. ‘Not Your Mother's Drag Night' had ended, and the either irony or synchronicity subtly toyed with my inherent need for survival and awestruck emotions, as the last and final episode of the 6th season, which I had already named [Not Your Mother's Episode] before arriving to my Equinox venture at the party — the episode in which everything I had written, assembled with every entry for the 6th season, to be left in its description —was yet still unreleased; it had been a grueling train ride full of tears, and I had yet to neatly tie together the Jimmy Fallon timeline—the Timmy Turner Timeline, which of course connected the Amanda Bynes timelines and all of the Nickelodeon timelines respectively—and though the Skrillex and Dillon Francis timelines had driven nearly every series in their entireties in one way or another, Sonny's sudden arrival into New York City mere hours after Act III, Part IIhad been posted —indicating that either he himself or someone on his campaign had been listening and reading along with my series, jolting me into a frenzy, of course… (though I had already planned to release the end of the season concurrently—as I had with a majority of the previous seasons, taking a hiatus to regroup after each season conclusion or finale) my homeless-suicidal pattern had shown itself to be cyclical, by now—not that one thing hadn't anything to do with the other, and though someone or something may have found it interesting and entertaining, I myself was growing tired of making a mockery of my own self, remaining unloved, unhoused, and unfelt enough so much so that nothing had really changed—and although the 3rd season's hiatus had warranted the 4th season's Anandar, the 4th seasons return to the United States had of course warranted more racism, capitalistic greed, hereditary confinement, algorithmic condemnation, corporate slavery, and an interesting series of mixtapes—which of course had resulted in the 6th season's hope for a better future, my almost-return to Hollywood via the actual real-life Drake Bell and his man-habits, my mental degradation via lack of privacy, and of course, the empathic enforcement or feeling everything at once besides love, human connection or trust. My ex had texted me some weeks earlier, finally having apologized for cheating and assuring me that his karma had been paid in full—without responding, I simply screenshotted the message for future use on an album cover, deleted Google voice, and reassured myself that if his long-overdue karma for cheating had just now been ‘paid-in-full', that it surely had not been paid in full at all and was only just beginning—as he had never apologized or admitted to anything else he'd done—of course, as our relationship had ended, my re-awakening of creativity had been flourishing; I was always recording, taking samples, and writing down ideas for music I wanted to make—and besides that—openly admitting that he had hit me would probably open a disastrous wormhole of self-realization and shame no true narcissist could take—that which he was, not that I at this point had resented it, besides of course the scarring on my lower lip that had come as a result, the estrangement from my son, or the mental anguish I had suffered—and, looking back, I still could never recount whether I had… Just then, I realized that there was an error in my thinking; I had already been running off my weight at a tremendously rapid pace, working out to Recess in the living room between shifts at the veterinary clinic, where I took pride and joy in running with the greyhounds at then-top speed, racing to Diplo, Doctor P, and Rusko—of course, only stopping to express, my breasts still heavy from lactation, and realizing that it was painful to run with boobs full of anything—let alone, milk—which sometimes I pumped for Annie once her glands had gone dry, donated to the NICU, or winded up in my ex's coffee, because it gave him “superpowers.” This is a weird story. Well, if I tell some of it I have to tell all of it. Why are you even telling some of it? Because someone threw Skrillex in my tent and I should have raped him. You can't rape the willing. This is a sick bitch we're dealing with. How do you know he was willing? (He was wiling.) Idk,bro. He looked sick. Or scared. Or Ill. “ill” Get it. I put the ill in Skrillex Better fix my will forreal This could be my last meal Cause I feel like jumping off a building Or a cliff, Like dead horse point— We're beating/being a dead horse, Aren't we? Or an F'n Pig: Oink Oink! Boisterous, Aren't we boys? Let me annoint you all with oil, On upholstery You want a half, Or a whole thing? I want you to hold— I want you to know me I want you to love me I love you Are you happy? Oh, you fucked up. Oh, you think?! I barely sleep, Then you start showing up in my dreams? I don't believe you, I don't believe in anything but me, And I could be you, maybe Maybe there's a sequel, If we're equal— Or if he isn't evil; Maybe I'll just Evil Kinivel Fuck you people! Maybe I'll go fuxkin sleep with Lil Peep I'll call the reaper, Jesus Weeps, But probably not as much as _________ He's a keeper. Fun fact: when you cry, I cry. Plz. Stop crying. I can't. INT. A FIREY PLANE CRASH Wait. THE BILDERBERG MEETING. Jesus Christ, why is Shia Labouf so fuckin ripped. Ew. Who feeds him. CHICKEN. gross. BEFORE: SHIA LABEOUF ITS ME, I'M IN YOUR DREAMS. Ū Oh noooo… SHIA LABEOUF THE FESTIVAL PROJECT Ū … What. SHIA LABEOUF THE FESTIVAL PROJECT Ū k. SHIA LABEOUF NOW WAKE UP, Ū What? SHIA LABEOUF WAKE—UP. Narcissistic Cannibal- Korn, Skrillex. UP. [C.C. Wakes up, drenched in sweat. ] … … … C.C. …Shia LaBeouf…? (That was an actual dream I had once—give or take a few parts.) Yeah, give or take. Ahem. I probably would have forgotten he existed, too, were it not for that dream—and shortly thereafter… FLASHBACK: C.C. Is binge watching Hot Ones. I want—all the sauce. What's that dudes name. Sean. He seems a little off. Yeah, I bet he's off. E Q U I N O X huh. …huh. INT. THE BILDERBERG MEETING SHIA LABEOUF I DONT GIVE A SINGLE FUCK. ILLUMINATI perfect. SECURITY GET OUT. SHIA LABEOUF I WAS NEVER IN. CHICKEN. Ew. ILLUMINATI SEQUENCE C - GREENLIGNT. Wtf is happening in this show. Idk, but I like it. Where's — CHAL (From season 4) IT DOESNT MAAAAAAATER. Right. CUT BACK TO: INT. A FIREY PLANECRASH. DAY. QUEST FOR FIRE. LOOK TO THE SKIES, YOUNG PADOWAN. oh my god. It's a fire breathing dragon! No, dude, that's a firey plane crash. Fuck. FIRE BREATHING DRAGON. That's a fire breathing dragon. W0W. Which do you think is gonna be more interesting? Neither, I'd rather watch The Legend of SupaCree What time is it on? SUPACREE it's always on. How is that even possible! SUPACREE you're on it, Are you recording me? SUPACREE I record everything. Srsly?! SUPACREE Except lovemaking. … SUPACREE That is private. … SCARY TERRY SEX IS SACRED, BITCH. SUPACREE don't cal me a bitch. … go watch TV. CUT BACK TO: INT. A FIREY PLANE CRASH. DAY [Terror has stricken the passengers of flight 626, as the BOEING 747 plunges rapidly, falling from the sky at an alarming speed, as the airplane decentigrates, falling into pieces] SHIA LABEOUF Does this character not have a name? No, it's literally Shia LaBeouf; he's playing himself. CUT TO: SHIA LABEOUF I'M AN AIR MARSHALL WHEN I'M NOT ACTING Why is he still yelling? SHIA LABEOUF ‘CAUSE I'M IN YOUR DREAMS. CUT BACK TO: Just before: SHIA LABEOUF looks over the rims of his glasses, staring forward at CC/SUPACREE, before lowering his head back down, momentarily pretending to read a magazine from under the brim of his tan cap, obscuring his identity. He places his hand over the gun in his holster, revealing by the golden badge beside it that he is a federal air Marshall (to the audience) before adjusting his brown leather jacket to cover it, squinting conspicuously under his bifocal lenses, peering once more at CC/SUPACREE, and swallowing subtly, licking his lips and flashing away a secondary glimpse of fear in his eyes, before presuming a fierce gaze as he braces for impact, calmly unbuckling his seatbelt. Suddenly, the plane is struck— as the passengers scream and panic in fear, he simply stands up, stabilizing his balance, and moves towards the terrified and hyperventilating SUPACREE. ] Ok. That'll do. What about Drake Bell?! what about Drake Bell!? And Drake And Josh?! AND THE AMANDA SHOW AND ARIANA GRANDE AND ALL THE NICHELODEON KIDS?! It can wait. NO! BUT WHAT ABOUT COSMO + WANDA?! AND SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS AND HEY ARNOLD I never got to Hey Arnold, but I've been thinking about it a lot since I got to New York; but—that's also Nickelodeon, so— BUT WHAT ABOUT DILLON FRANCIS. he's very attractive. WHAt ab0Ut SKriLLeX?! he's also very attractive, And just dropped his album— So we can just assume that the previously mentioned are perhaps both getting their dicks sucked often enough that I don't have to worry about it. Why would you worry about it. CAUSE I'M IN YOUR DREAMS. This is not kid friendly. AHHHHHHHHHH WHAT ABOUT JIMMY FALLON. Everything naughty he says in this series is censored caused he has a contract with NBC. WHERE'S WHOOPI GOLDBERG?! WHO!? I don't like this. I don't like this at all. Then keep scrolling. What about deadmau5. Probably also presumably getting his dick sucked. W0W. I re-entered the apartment at exactly 1:15. BLŪ Of course. And though I had been filled with nothing but words and heartache, I could do no more than to peel off my layers and tumble into the shower, no longer in tears, but still devastated — and somehow dying to know if the Skrillex album just so happened to mark my Deathwish, or restore my faith in humanity…neither of which actually mattered; I had fallen prey once more to the cycle of poverty's destruction and relentlessness, if even by my own doing—the respective love I held for Sonny, Dillon Francis, or anyone else simply a faction of obsessive fandom, my writings a mere glimpse into the unobstructed world of the fourth dimension, which I undoubtedly still believed and was living in, only hoping that I was indeed not the hopeless protagonist to die, in the end—and perhaps, that even if I did, the worlds and works that I had published on The Legend of Supacree, OWSLA Confidential: The Infinite Skrillifiles, Gerald's World, and Enter The Multiverse would stand as the backbone for an unimaginable flurry of Whatever. The End. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE WAR OF WORLDS LEGENDS HOLY WAR EARTH WORLD WAR WATER (WWIII) {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U. I love You.

I fell into a dream with you last night And when I woke I had to cry And when I looked inside your eyes I had to realize they were mine Now I'm alive And in alignment Something like a diamond shines inside It's just another night Our love is just inside my mind I had to hide it Your highness Right on time. As expected. Hey, I just wanted you to know: Your evil shamanic curse worked( I've been homeless since I left you and demonic forces follow me everywhere So I'm going to kill myself eventually Just the way you hoped I would So no one will have to know that you hit me so hard it made me lose my mind You have an evil spirit and a heartless soul and nobody will ever love you except for our son— So just tell him I love him You fucking win Your curse worked Every single person you ever try to love will cheat and lie to you Just like you did to me And the only reason I don't wish homelessness and suicide onto you Like you wished onto me Is because you have our son Thanks for ruining my life I hope there's heaven on the other side I fucking hate you You're fucking evil You fat stupid retarded motherfucker —but I didn't text him that, of course I wanted to; But in my heart and soul, I knew it would be the end of me, And that he'd know he really had won— And though I didn't want to give him the power or the light of day, I knew I was cursed, Followed by coughing demons, pretty, skinny women, mindfucked by Skrillex and Dillon Francis and set to die in the streets with nothing to eat, nowhere to go, and nothing to lose but myself, not that it mattered— It would be a quiet suicide, And my son might never know I died alone and homeless in New York City; But i loved him the most And the hole in my heart that made me a ghost was shaped just like him ; And though I had nothing left but love to give, Which meant nothing in a cruel and loveless world made of money, The best that I could do was just to love him, And hope that on the other side would be heaven, Where I could know him again I just passed the white rabbit; I'd laugh at it, if I weren't rabid with absolute madness I've had it! I can't stand it I mismanaged My finances, It's fine, actually; I've got enough time (Money) To climb the Empire The Devil's a Liar, But so am I, And God's a bird on a wire How inspiring I'm one off of everything, I can't run, when I'm too busy thinking “Where the fuxk am I gonna sleep” Tomorrow, I can pawn my drum machine— That buys me one more night in a nice dream A nice clean apartment in Brooklyn, Some rice and beans; Another dream… ‘Is it supposed to be a secret?' I really had fallen in love with Sonny, but it didn't seem to matter anymore about anything—I didn't have what I needed at all—and the irony and reality was setting in that the Sonny was dropping his album on the exact day that I would run out of everything—out of money for food, a place to sleep…everything. I had loved him so wholehearly that I had recorded ïambīc; only to be devastated in the following weeks with the discovery that he had been spending time with Kayla Laurenc who I didn't exactly despise, as much as I resented—as in all of my life, girls like her had always gotten ahead and gotten everything I wanted, without even trying—just because they looked the way they did—and, at least by all the people I had been around, even my mother—I was ugly, fat, and retarded. Perhaps he did operate on the Devil's power, with my ex husband; I was homeless, at least not yet hungry, but on my way to it—and finally, out of “nowhere”, Sonny being Skrillex was in New York, releasing the album we had all been waiting for. I was either being cruicified or… Connected to a greater purpose, but it hurt either way—and either way I wanted to end it. Every time I dreamt of Dillon, it was of his entire family—in fact, I had almost forgotten that he had a brother at all; it didn't make sense to me, actually I had stopped breathing. I was crying quietly from the moment I left Equinox—I had done my best not to, but couldn't help it entirely. It had been too long since I had any sense of security. I tossed my head back to keep the tears from rolling down my cheeks, staring up with widened eyes, which suddenly focused on the digital LCD screen, flashing the streets at which the train would stop; I was of course sitting directly beneath the stop for 88th street—Sonny's birth year, and a number that had repeatedly jumped out to me since our “meeting”. ‘Why would he do this to me?' Maybe this is all supposed to murder me. My ex husband had been tied to White Supremacy; “I belong to an organization that will kill you and bury you somewhere no one will ever find you.” He once said—one of the things which lead to my attempt—or completing, alternatively, suicide. “You know why I have the power to control demons?” Another notion which had the tendency to repeat itself in my mind, whenever a demonic energy found its way to me, in the form of a skinny, attractive woman or a coughing homeless person, in the form of Kayla Lauren, Dillon Francis, or even Sonny—and though none of the latter two actually ever seemed like actual demons, at least to me—the demonic energy was in knowing that someone like me, in reality, could never deserve or afford someone like Sonny, or Dillon respectively—and although the attraction that I felt to either of them was extreme wrnough to me, and could even be called love, the truth was that the effect of fame meant that it wasn't just me, but hundreds of thousands of other human beings like me, better than me, more attractive than me—and with a better perception of reality that would make more ideal partners, mates, and lovers, and that my own perception of beauty and self love had been shattered by Society. Maybe don't post this. What does it matter? What am I supposed to believe? That Sonny's come to New York to rescue me and take me to freedom—that with someone like me he'd be actually happy? That everything in my head, in my heart, in my mind—the belief that we were meant to be is actually reality? He has every reason and every right to be wary of me. I had read about the teenaged girl that had become obsessed with Drake Bell, following him to all his shows and eventually, even becoming close with him; texting back and forth, and from the looks of it—probably even meeting, hanging out together and who knows what else exactly, besides the man himself and God, on whose behalf it sometimes seeemed I was acting, however— “New York Or Nowhere” Oh shit. The orange and blue basketballs on the fabric clutch held under the arm of the man in front of me distracted my mind for a moment from my writing; the color orange had always reminded me of Dillon, because it was so prevalent in the music which had first captivated me, even before I knew who Dillon Francis was exactly, and had somehow managed to have implanted the notion —especially after the realization that he was, in fact, using magic— that perhaps such a gifted shapeshifter had learned to even transform himself into an object that was inanimate; a traffic cone, whatever that meant. [DON'T HIT ME.] Years had passed since the idea had been established, and though I couldn't seem to remember how I had first actually imagined it, besides listening to what probably may have been ‘too much' Dillon Francis, an entire storyline had been written, as Dillon Francis, having become at some point captain of The Bampheraphs, had instructed the other Insomniacs, Bampheramphs, Motherfuckers, and DJs to also transform into the very simple, very inanimate traffic cones— and though Skrillex, or Sonny—was also given an extreme amount of power and magic, especially even the ability to become inanimate himself, or, “The Inanimate Skrillex”, as it had once been written—as it remarkably turned out, Skrillex would find that he could be every color traffic cone besides Neon Orange—which, as the curator of such an idea, had, over time, become both comedic and tragic—as everywhere I seemed to go, tended to produce strangely colored tragic cones at random. ‘That did happen' Maybe all this means Is when I find the bravery To finally fly, or something… INT. AIRPLANE. DAY BLŪ is seated in a window seat towards the back of a BOEING 747. Oh man, this scene. Sometimes my worst nightmares are airplane crashes, actually. Since I could remember, maybe from the age of about two or three—I would dream awful tragedies—‘nightmares, or night terrors, actually—tornadoes, horrible fires and burning buildings and sometimes, airplane crashes, which even to this day, haunt me when I sleep. You know, nobody has a ticket to the soul train. What. You just jump. Trains in New York do come suicide fast. I was on the platform and still almost got hit! Okay, this isn't really funny anymore, is it? No. Suddenly, a sound rang out into my ears and Ugh, it's hard to write when you want to die this much ‘Why do you want to die this much? I had extended my air bnb for one more night, but it meant giving up one of my drum machines go to the pawn shop—the one which I had just reclaimed from the pawn shop in Las Vegas, and seemed an entire waste, as it was the heaviest thing in all my luggage, and I had dragged it across the country in order to use it as a performance piece to give myself an edge over the other DJs who simply mixed—But, as it turned out, of course, the world, “especially New York”, was over saturated with DJs— though I had done what I could, or most of what I could, to get a head start, I had so much work backed up that in the two weeks since I had left my job in LA, that it didn't matter now that I even had my drum machine with me—I was scrambling to gather money to keep a place to sleep, and so the drum machine would have to go in the morning, in exchange for one or two more nights of housing—and with any luck or by the grace or God I could somehow fish it back out of the pawn shop in some weeks or months time—not that I enjoyed the idea of going back into the workforce as anything but an artist—but so far, this artist that I was had been the lowest of all the low paying jobs I had ever had. ‘What is that?' I had heard the album over and over—it had infinite replay value, of course, and I was using its tones and auras to dry my tears on the long train back to Brooklyn from Manhattan—but, in this moment, as I exited the subway station and made my way down my usual route back to the flat I had depleted my entire savings on staying in—the sound shook through my entirety, rumbling strangely into the arcs of my feet and even stopping me dead in my tracks for a moment, ringing strangely in my chest and into the palms of my hands, up my shoulders and into my hollow lungs, wrapping around my heart, and colliding with the very odd thought “I gotta stay alive to ask Joel what that was.” How bizarre. It was past midnight—and now that I was above ground, I hadn't thought to check again if the new Skrillex album was being released on East Coast time, where Sonny supposedly still was, or if it might not be available until later; and I hadn't thought to look or try to check Instagram again—I had only been on Instagram anyway in hopes of finding a job—and had only checked the Skrillex Instagram hoping that I would see something that would make the way I felt about Sonny stop, by now, suddenly realizing that it never would until he married or procreated with someone else, (or I did) once and for all wiping out any dillusions I had dreamt up or summoned in the wake of our crossing paths. As quickly as he had come to New York, he could have left and probably may have—but I didn't know, and didn't care; it would be futile to believe he would come to rescue me, even if it was what I wanted and needed so much that I couldn't bear the thought of anything more than just departing the entire world. Earlier, even though I had been pressed for time to make it to the gym, having spent the day of course collecting my things and trying to figure a way out ot the homeless box I had built my way into, still stressing the somehow ‘need' to publish the entirety or the 6th season so that I could go on hiatus— It really hadn't occurred to me for more than a moment that Sonny might be listening to my podcast at all, besides listening to Renaissance which I had briefly vaulted, having worked out to it too much and beyond honestly hating myself for not being either Skrillex, or perhaps even more disappointingly, Beyoncè—and either one would have done— I retracted my last couple steps, doubling back to the discotheque—All Night Skate—where I had already asked for a job one of my first nights in Brooklyn, collecting the number of the manager but having lost it, deleting it by accident— INT. ALL NIGHT SKATE. 12:56 AM I realized it was nearly closing time; I had stopped back by after Equinox to write, hoping to music mine whatever the DJ was playing, my body strangely acting and writing quite automatically, with reason to live, shaken suddenly alive by an unidentifiable bass sound seated safely on While 1>2, and still seeking purpose Bryan eno complex heaven Terrors in my head The two songs mixed perfectly into my minds eye as I left, snapping photos for albums yet to be written, and wondering whether or not I would live long enough to write them, or to mix the two songs which had so perfectly mixed—one playing in my headphones and the other over the PA system—and wondering how less than an hour earlier I had experienced a sound I had heard at least a hundred times under the arches of my feet. Oh, wow. ‘Errors In My Bread' The numbers 404 had always triggered the thought: Error, perhaps suggesting even I myself was nothing more than just a simulation or computer of some sort, a robotic formulation of all that had been programmed and crated to exist in the way that I had, a short circuit or some kind of malfunction; I'd trickled into Equinox at precisely 9:52, which allowed me exactly 8 minutes to prepare to record the beginning of the closing announcements at 10:00 for the Equinox + EP, peel off my outer layer of clothes, and pour into the sauna for at least 15 minutes, squeezing in a light workout—warranted, considering I had spent the entirety of the day before at the club, auditioning the rest of the 6th season between the sauna and steamroom, Suffering the Skrillex that had descended onto the city I neither loved nor lived in—which might have totaled altogether about 4 hours in the sauna alone, and what seemed like 56 gallons of sweat—but I was grasping at straws, searching for random numbers to complete my thoughts. I had left Manhattan, as usual, at 11:00 PM as Sports Club closed—pulling my belongings from locker 403, with locker number 404 catching my attention from out of the corner or my eye—and as tears gushed from my face, blasted through the revolving doors—-there was indeed an Error in my Bread, and so to self soothe as usual only seemed fitting, as the words began to pour from my fingertips once more. ‘Not Your Mother's Drag Night' had ended, and the either irony or synchronicity subtly toyed with my inherent need for survival and awestruck emotions, as the last and final episode of the 6th season, which I had already named [Not Your Mother's Episode] before arriving to my Equinox venture at the party — the episode in which everything I had written, assembled with every entry for the 6th season, to be left in its description —was yet still unreleased; it had been a grueling train ride full of tears, and I had yet to neatly tie together the Jimmy Fallon timeline—the Timmy Turner Timeline, which of course connected the Amanda Bynes timelines and all of the Nickelodeon timelines respectively—and though the Skrillex and Dillon Francis timelines had driven nearly every series in their entireties in one way or another, Sonny's sudden arrival into New York City mere hours after Act III, Part IIhad been posted —indicating that either he himself or someone on his campaign had been listening and reading along with my series, jolting me into a frenzy, of course… (though I had already planned to release the end of the season concurrently—as I had with a majority of the previous seasons, taking a hiatus to regroup after each season conclusion or finale) my homeless-suicidal pattern had shown itself to be cyclical, by now—not that one thing hadn't anything to do with the other, and though someone or something may have found it interesting and entertaining, I myself was growing tired of making a mockery of my own self, remaining unloved, unhoused, and unfelt enough so much so that nothing had really changed—and although the 3rd season's hiatus had warranted the 4th season's Anandar, the 4th seasons return to the United States had of course warranted more racism, capitalistic greed, hereditary confinement, algorithmic condemnation, corporate slavery, and an interesting series of mixtapes—which of course had resulted in the 6th season's hope for a better future, my almost-return to Hollywood via the actual real-life Drake Bell and his man-habits, my mental degradation via lack of privacy, and of course, the empathic enforcement or feeling everything at once besides love, human connection or trust. My ex had texted me some weeks earlier, finally having apologized for cheating and assuring me that his karma had been paid in full—without responding, I simply screenshotted the message for future use on an album cover, deleted Google voice, and reassured myself that if his long-overdue karma for cheating had just now been ‘paid-in-full', that it surely had not been paid in full at all and was only just beginning—as he had never apologized or admitted to anything else he'd done—of course, as our relationship had ended, my re-awakening of creativity had been flourishing; I was always recording, taking samples, and writing down ideas for music I wanted to make—and besides that—openly admitting that he had hit me would probably open a disastrous wormhole of self-realization and shame no true narcissist could take—that which he was, not that I at this point had resented it, besides of course the scarring on my lower lip that had come as a result, the estrangement from my son, or the mental anguish I had suffered—and, looking back, I still could never recount whether I had… Just then, I realized that there was an error in my thinking; I had already been running off my weight at a tremendously rapid pace, working out to Recess in the living room between shifts at the veterinary clinic, where I took pride and joy in running with the greyhounds at then-top speed, racing to Diplo, Doctor P, and Rusko—of course, only stopping to express, my breasts still heavy from lactation, and realizing that it was painful to run with boobs full of anything—let alone, milk—which sometimes I pumped for Annie once her glands had gone dry, donated to the NICU, or winded up in my ex's coffee, because it gave him “superpowers.” This is a weird story. Well, if I tell some of it I have to tell all of it. Why are you even telling some of it? Because someone threw Skrillex in my tent and I should have raped him. You can't rape the willing. This is a sick bitch we're dealing with. How do you know he was willing? (He was wiling.) Idk,bro. He looked sick. Or scared. Or Ill. “ill” Get it. I put the ill in Skrillex Better fix my will forreal This could be my last meal Cause I feel like jumping off a building Or a cliff, Like dead horse point— We're beating/being a dead horse, Aren't we? Or an F'n Pig: Oink Oink! Boisterous, Aren't we boys? Let me annoint you all with oil, On upholstery You want a half, Or a whole thing? I want you to hold— I want you to know me I want you to love me I love you Are you happy? Oh, you fucked up. Oh, you think?! I barely sleep, Then you start showing up in my dreams? I don't believe you, I don't believe in anything but me, And I could be you, maybe Maybe there's a sequel, If we're equal— Or if he isn't evil; Maybe I'll just Evil Kinivel Fuck you people! Maybe I'll go fuxkin sleep with Lil Peep I'll call the reaper, Jesus Weeps, But probably not as much as _________ He's a keeper. Fun fact: when you cry, I cry. Plz. Stop crying. I can't. INT. A FIREY PLANE CRASH Wait. THE BILDERBERG MEETING. Jesus Christ, why is Shia Labouf so fuckin ripped. Ew. Who feeds him. CHICKEN. gross. BEFORE: SHIA LABEOUF ITS ME, I'M IN YOUR DREAMS. Ū Oh noooo… SHIA LABEOUF THE FESTIVAL PROJECT Ū … What. SHIA LABEOUF THE FESTIVAL PROJECT Ū k. SHIA LABEOUF NOW WAKE UP, Ū What? SHIA LABEOUF WAKE—UP. Narcissistic Cannibal- Korn, Skrillex. UP. [C.C. Wakes up, drenched in sweat. ] … … … C.C. …Shia LaBeouf…? (That was an actual dream I had once—give or take a few parts.) Yeah, give or take. Ahem. I probably would have forgotten he existed, too, were it not for that dream—and shortly thereafter… FLASHBACK: C.C. Is binge watching Hot Ones. I want—all the sauce. What's that dudes name. Sean. He seems a little off. Yeah, I bet he's off. E Q U I N O X huh. …huh. INT. THE BILDERBERG MEETING SHIA LABEOUF I DONT GIVE A SINGLE FUCK. ILLUMINATI perfect. SECURITY GET OUT. SHIA LABEOUF I WAS NEVER IN. CHICKEN. Ew. ILLUMINATI SEQUENCE C - GREENLIGNT. Wtf is happening in this show. Idk, but I like it. Where's — CHAL (From season 4) IT DOESNT MAAAAAAATER. Right. CUT BACK TO: INT. A FIREY PLANECRASH. DAY. QUEST FOR FIRE. LOOK TO THE SKIES, YOUNG PADOWAN. oh my god. It's a fire breathing dragon! No, dude, that's a firey plane crash. Fuck. FIRE BREATHING DRAGON. That's a fire breathing dragon. W0W. Which do you think is gonna be more interesting? Neither, I'd rather watch The Legend of SupaCree What time is it on? SUPACREE it's always on. How is that even possible! SUPACREE you're on it, Are you recording me? SUPACREE I record everything. Srsly?! SUPACREE Except lovemaking. … SUPACREE That is private. … SCARY TERRY SEX IS SACRED, BITCH. SUPACREE don't cal me a bitch. … go watch TV. CUT BACK TO: INT. A FIREY PLANE CRASH. DAY [Terror has stricken the passengers of flight 626, as the BOEING 747 plunges rapidly, falling from the sky at an alarming speed, as the airplane decentigrates, falling into pieces] SHIA LABEOUF Does this character not have a name? No, it's literally Shia LaBeouf; he's playing himself. CUT TO: SHIA LABEOUF I'M AN AIR MARSHALL WHEN I'M NOT ACTING Why is he still yelling? SHIA LABEOUF ‘CAUSE I'M IN YOUR DREAMS. CUT BACK TO: Just before: SHIA LABEOUF looks over the rims of his glasses, staring forward at CC/SUPACREE, before lowering his head back down, momentarily pretending to read a magazine from under the brim of his tan cap, obscuring his identity. He places his hand over the gun in his holster, revealing by the golden badge beside it that he is a federal air Marshall (to the audience) before adjusting his brown leather jacket to cover it, squinting conspicuously under his bifocal lenses, peering once more at CC/SUPACREE, and swallowing subtly, licking his lips and flashing away a secondary glimpse of fear in his eyes, before presuming a fierce gaze as he braces for impact, calmly unbuckling his seatbelt. Suddenly, the plane is struck— as the passengers scream and panic in fear, he simply stands up, stabilizing his balance, and moves towards the terrified and hyperventilating SUPACREE. ] Ok. That'll do. What about Drake Bell?! what about Drake Bell!? And Drake And Josh?! AND THE AMANDA SHOW AND ARIANA GRANDE AND ALL THE NICHELODEON KIDS?! It can wait. NO! BUT WHAT ABOUT COSMO + WANDA?! AND SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS AND HEY ARNOLD I never got to Hey Arnold, but I've been thinking about it a lot since I got to New York; but—that's also Nickelodeon, so— BUT WHAT ABOUT DILLON FRANCIS. he's very attractive. WHAt ab0Ut SKriLLeX?! he's also very attractive, And just dropped his album— So we can just assume that the previously mentioned are perhaps both getting their dicks sucked often enough that I don't have to worry about it. Why would you worry about it. CAUSE I'M IN YOUR DREAMS. This is not kid friendly. AHHHHHHHHHH WHAT ABOUT JIMMY FALLON. Everything naughty he says in this series is censored caused he has a contract with NBC. WHERE'S WHOOPI GOLDBERG?! WHO!? I don't like this. I don't like this at all. Then keep scrolling. What about deadmau5. Probably also presumably getting his dick sucked. W0W. I re-entered the apartment at exactly 1:15. BLŪ Of course. And though I had been filled with nothing but words and heartache, I could do no more than to peel off my layers and tumble into the shower, no longer in tears, but still devastated — and somehow dying to know if the Skrillex album just so happened to mark my Deathwish, or restore my faith in humanity…neither of which actually mattered; I had fallen prey once more to the cycle of poverty's destruction and relentlessness, if even by my own doing—the respective love I held for Sonny, Dillon Francis, or anyone else simply a faction of obsessive fandom, my writings a mere glimpse into the unobstructed world of the fourth dimension, which I undoubtedly still believed and was living in, only hoping that I was indeed not the hopeless protagonist to die, in the end—and perhaps, that even if I did, the worlds and works that I had published on The Legend of Supacree, OWSLA Confidential: The Infinite Skrillifiles, Gerald's World, and Enter The Multiverse would stand as the backbone for an unimaginable flurry of Whatever. The End. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE WAR OF WORLDS LEGENDS HOLY WAR EARTH WORLD WAR WATER (WWIII) SEASON 6 TO GRAND TOTAL/ @skrillex @dillonfrancis @jimmyfallon @drakebell @joshpeck @amandabynes @nickelodeon @ravensymone @disney @shialabeouf @drake @mileycyrus @billieelish @britneyspears @arianagrande @beyonce @kanyewest @eminem @slimshady lol @whoopigoldberg @eddiemurphy Who else did I name drop this season? Uhhh… @diplo @deadmau5 @pasqualerotella @insomniac @jkrowling @emmawatson @danielradcliffe @rupertgrint Idk there's a lot of famous people randomly entering my, uh REALITY. “likeness is what you attract” “Like attracts like.” “Opposites Attract” “You Are What You Eat” HOUSING IS A HUMAN RIGHT HOMELESSNESS IS INHUMANE no, take that part out. The government will try to kill you. *kill you. nah, they'll just force me to kill myself or join the military. same thing. @sonnymoore @u @ccxellsoleil I didn't even do this on purpose. THIS IS: [THE FESTIVAL PROJECT ™] {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

"On the outskirts of the national capital today, black limousines converge on hotels to a secret meeting that will last all weekend, its known as the Bilderberg Group"- Canadian News Reporter Reporting the Bilderberg Meeting in Ottawa, Canada The Bilderberg Group is a highly secretive group of Up to 150 of the world's wealthiest and most powerful political leaders attend the annual event. The attendees include royalty, presidents, prime ministers, chief executives of major international conglomerates, media moguls, and world bankers. The Bilderberg Members would rather kill there entire family then reveal what there plans are! #notaconspiracy Support us on Patreon! www.patreon.com/strangebrewpodcast www.strangebrewpodcast.com Strange brew's INSTAGRAM https://www.instagram.com/strangebrew...​ Strange brew's FACEBOOK: www.facebook.com/strangebrewpod TOMCAT- https://www.instagram.com/tomcathipho...​ ANTON- https://www.instagram.com/h.p_shovekraft/?hl=en Anton's Twitch- Twitch @ invaderdaggett_ttv Strange Brew's Twitch @ strangebrewttv

Doge: Gas at $5/Gallon for the First Time in US History and Biden Does NOTHING, Secret Bilderberg Meeting 2022, and Trudeau Plans for Digital IDs and Possible Social Credit Scores --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/dogeandpepe/support

Doge: Gas at $5/Gallon for the First Time in US History and Biden Does NOTHING, Secret Bilderberg Meeting 2022, and Trudeau Plans for Digital IDs and Possible Social Credit Scores --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/dogeandpepe/support

·       Vigilance Elite - YouTube·       Mexico's AMLO will skip US-hosted Summit of the Americas | Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador News | Al Jazeera·       The Summit of the Americas Is an Instrument of US Hegemony in Latin America (jacobin.com)·       Participants 2022 (bilderbergmeetings.org)·       Record-high US inflation has analysts gloomy (nypost.com)·       US to allow Venezuelan oil to be shipped to Europe: report | The Hill

Canary Cry News Talk #492 - 06.03.2022 BILD BERG BETTER Fish Bees, Shillzilla, Biden Plan, Ticks, Hell Planet   LINKTREE: CanaryCry.Party SHOW NOTES: CanaryCryNewsTalk.com CLIP CHANNEL: CanaryCry.Tube SUPPLY DROP: CanaryCrySupplyDrop.com SUPPORT: CanaryCryRadio.com/Support MEET UPS: CanaryCryMeetUps.com Basil's other podcast: ravel Gonz' New Youtube: Facelikethesun Resurrection Gonz' Video Archive: Facelikethesun.Live App Made by Canary Cry Producer: Truther Dating App   LEAD:  5:57 V / 3:24 P WOKE/NEWSOM SCIENCE California court rules bees a type of fish to protect them under endangered species act (Insider)   BBB/NEW WORLD ORDER:  13:27 V / 10:54 P 68th Bilderberg Meeting to take place 2 - 5 June 2022 in Washington, D.C., USA (KULR8)  → Source: 68TH BILDERBERG MEETING (Bilderberg)   BBB/HARRY LEGS:  22:51 V / 20:18 P Bidens WSJ “Plan” (WSJ Op. ed) → Former Corinthian students get federal debt erased (AP)   SHILLZILLA:   This is disastrous economic number for Joe Biden and Democrats (CNN)   INTRO (M-W-F) B&G Update, V4V/Exec./Asso./Support   FLIPPY Elon Musk-bot coming in September (MSN/The Street)   [Party Pitch/Ravel/CCClips/text alerts]   GUN CONTROL → Tulsa shooter from botched back surgery (DailyMail) → Uvalde police not cooperating (NY Post)   UKRAINE US to send Ukraine Advanced Rockets; Kyiv promises not to shoot Russia (DefenseOne) US OFFENSIVE cyber attacks on Russia (CNN)   [TREASURE/SPEAKPIPE/BYE YOUTUBE]   COVID/WACCINE Covid is way more deadly than flu for children (Bloomberg) →Source: CDC data on flu deaths “statistical models to accommodate underreporting”   MONKEYPOX More than half of infections is in the gay community, new UKHSA report shows (Sky News) → Monkeypox, Knowledge Gaps (WHO) WE DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT MPX (CNN)   PANDEMIC SPECIAL Ticks (JAM links) Gruesome ‘nose-bleed fever' death toll rises to 18 as tick-borne virus spreads (NY Post) → Connecticut man suffers from deadly brain infection cause by Powassan virus after he was bit by a tick, officials confirm (DailyMail) → Every American carnivore's worst nightmare! Thousands have developed allergy to MEAT due to tick bites sparking disorder called 'Alpha-gal' (DailyMail) [TALENT]   SPACE NASA to reveal Hell Like Planet that rains lava at night (Chron) -1 [Note] NASA officially confirms joining investigations into UFOs (DailyMail)   [TIME/OUTRO]   EPISODE 492 WAS PRODUCED BY… Executive Producers Robert G**   Producers MORV, Joseph S, Sir JC Knight of the Technosquatch, James M, Alana L, LX Protocol V2, Darrin S, Jabree, Jonathan F, Sir Casey the Shield Knight, Sir Scott Knight of Truth, Veronica D, Gail M, Jackie U, Sir James Knight and Servant of the Lion of Judah, Runksmash   AUDIO PRODUCTION (Jingles, Iso, Music): LloydV   ART PRODUCTION (Drawing, Painting, Graphics): Dame Allie of the Skillet Nation, Sir Dove Knight of Rusbeltia   CONTENT PRODUCTION (Microfiction etc.): Runksmash: Basil toils I his garage, his metallic emu skeleton exercising its sinew and muscle to a perfect tenderness in the background. His project glows and floats, as he reaches the most crucial juncture Propaganda Rooster bellows, “THE CAT IS RIGHT!”   MLC: The bombs struck New York, Washington DC, San Diego and the Silicon Valley. Our way of life, our government and our country was destroyed. Those areas and surrounding ones had massive death and destruction. Water and food sources were now tainted. Communications were shut down America had fallen. The Canary Brothers found a way to keep in touch with those that listen to their show. The Cabana Boy got out of California with God's grace and was welcomed in, off the grid, with our best Googly Eye friend. It was on their broadcast that millions of people were able to know what was going on and to remind everyone to rely on and trust in God. We started seeing United Nation troops in America. It seemed like years have gone by but in reality only a few weeks before the WHO had announced that the land mass known as America is in a nuclear pandemic.   CLIP PRODUCER Emsworth, FaeLivrin, Epsilon   Timestamps: Mondays: Jackie U Wednesdays: Jade Bouncerson Fridays: Christine C   ADDITIONAL STORIES: 1/3 of Americans making over $250k/year living paycheck to paycheck (Bloomberg) Europes Russia Oil ban could overhaul global energy market (NY Times) GREAT RESET/DAVOS No, the World Economic Forum does not have it's own police force (Politifact) → WEF website about Interpol Finland inspired future sustainable city (Forbes) Soros, Guardian Angel invests $284 million for elections, super PAC (Open Secrets) GUN CONTROL → Wear Orange, gun control activism June 3-5 (WearOrange.org) Tulsa medical, Man kills 4 with legally bought “AR-style” gun (CBS) → Tulsa shooter from botched back surgery (DailyMail) → Uvalde Mayor admits unidentified negotiator tried to contact gunman (DailyMail) MONEY/BLOCKCHAIN Tech Experts urge Washington to resist crypto industry lobbying (Financial Times) …more Crypto/Money… → Meanwhile; Computer Scientists unveil energy efficient Bitcoin mining algorithm (Finbold) →→ Former employee NFT Marketplace arrested, charged insider trading (Dep. of Justice) →→ Japan passes stable coin bill (Bloomberg)

Welcome John back to the show after his contract strike, thankfully it was either the Illuminati or Greg Locke that helped him settle his contract issues, but we really believe it happened at the Bilderberg Meeting happening in Washington, D.C. currently. https://TheWrants.comFollow The Wrants ShowTwitter: https://Twitter.com/TheWrantsTikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@thewrantsInstagram: https://Instagram.com/TheWrantsShow YouTube: https://youtube.com/channel/UC67j5A9ErgsTOP8fpxeZ3WgLearn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

On this episode of the NTEB Prophecy News Podcast, we take you to our nation's capital to visit with the super-secret Bilderberg society who have been conducting their One World Government meetings in various places around the globe since 1954. When David Rockefeller, in his 1984 book 'Memoirs' said "We are grateful to the Washington Post, the New York Times, Time Magazine and other great publications whose directors have attended our meetings and respected their promises of discretion for almost 40 years. It would have been impossible for us to develop our plan for the world if we had been subjected to the lights of publicity during those years.." he was talking about the conspiracy on the part of the main stream media to not only attend those meetings, but to agree to not report on what they saw. The media has always been untrustworthy, and today on the Prophecy News Podcast, we will show you just how deep the rabbit hole goes, and who all the players are. The 68th Bilderberg Meeting will take place from 2nd - 5th June 2022 in Washington, D.C., USA. About 120 participants from 21 countries have confirmed their attendance. Topics to be discussed include Geopolitical Realignments, Disruption of the Global Financial System, Continuity of Government and the Economy, Disinformation, and a host of other topics that would feel right at home in the Chick tract called 'The Last Generation'. Welcome to Day 809 of 15 Days To Flatten the Curve.

Crazy times we are in, stay watchful and vigilant. The wicked will do many plans and agendas that will corrupt this earth and devour the poor. The Most High is with us forever! He loves us He Will protect us ! Stay strong ! Peace & Love

Ben Pring is the director of Cognizant's Center for the Future of Work. In 2018 he was a Bilderberg Meeting participant and in 2020 was named one of world's top management thinkers by Thinkers 50. He co-authored Monster: A Tough Love Letter On Taming the Machines that Rule Our Jobs, Lives and Code Halos with Paul Roehrig, and Future, What To Do When Machines Do Everything with Roehrig & Malcolm Frank· www.cognizant.com/futureofwork/author/details/benjamin-pring· www.oneplanetpodcast.org· www.creativeprocess.info

Ben Pring discusses the future of work, cities, and the upside and downside of technology.“They're single-purpose engines doing one thing in extraordinary ways, and they've been encouraged in that by the ecosystem around them, by the funding that's being pumped into them by people whose only motivation is simply to make more money–and you can see the results of that in the world as this technology has grown from a little acorn to now being the biggest Sequoia in the forest. And it's shading every other tree, it's taking all the light, it's taking all the energy from the forest, and it's distorting so much in the world.” Ben Pring is the director of Cognizant's Center for the Future of Work. In 2018 he was a Bilderberg Meeting participant and in 2020 was named one of world's top management thinkers by Thinkers 50. He co-authored Monster: A Tough Love Letter On Taming the Machines that Rule Our Jobs, Lives and Code Halos with Paul Roehrig, and Future, What To Do When Machines Do Everything with Roehrig & Malcolm Frank· www.cognizant.com/futureofwork/author/details/benjamin-pring· www.oneplanetpodcast.org· www.creativeprocess.info

“They're single-purpose engines doing one thing in extraordinary ways, and they've been encouraged in that by the ecosystem around them, by the funding that's being pumped into them by people whose only motivation is simply to make more money–and you can see the results of that in the world as this technology has grown from a little acorn to now being the biggest Sequoia in the forest. And it's shading every other tree, it's taking all the light, it's taking all the energy from the forest, and it's distorting so much in the world.” Ben Pring is the director of Cognizant's Center for the Future of Work. In 2018 he was a Bilderberg Meeting participant and in 2020 was named one of world's top management thinkers by Thinkers 50. He co-authored Monster: A Tough Love Letter On Taming the Machines that Rule Our Jobs, Lives and Code Halos with Paul Roehrig, and Future, What To Do When Machines Do Everything with Roehrig & Malcolm Frank· www.cognizant.com/futureofwork/author/details/benjamin-pring· www.oneplanetpodcast.org· www.creativeprocess.info

Ben Pring is the director of Cognizant's Center for the Future of Work. In 2018 he was a Bilderberg Meeting participant and in 2020 was named one of world's top management thinkers by Thinkers 50. He co-authored Monster: A Tough Love Letter On Taming the Machines that Rule Our Jobs, Lives and Code Halos with Paul Roehrig, and Future, What To Do When Machines Do Everything with Roehrig & Malcolm Frank· www.cognizant.com/futureofwork/author/details/benjamin-pring· www.oneplanetpodcast.org· www.creativeprocess.info

Join us this week for the first episode of Season 4B. The Bilderberg Meeting! The first Meeting occurred May 29th, 1954 in Oosterbeek, Netherlands.   The Bilderberg Meeting has  informal discussions to foster dialogue between Europe and North America. Every year since 1954,  around 130 political leaders and experts from academia, industry, finance, the media and Labor are invited to take part in the meeting.  Most participants come from Europe and the rest from North America. One third of them is in politics and government and the rest is from other fields. Stay tuned for this topic as we have a full booth this week with the addition of Nelson. This is one episode you don't want to miss.  Support the show (https://www.patreon.com/user?u=51933422)

Nanotech engineer, historical researcher, and content creator Andreas Xirtus stops by to melt Jordan's brain about Tartaria. It was great to meet Andreas and he will absolutely be coming back to the show more to discuss more of this, and many more great topics. In this episode, Andreas basically goes off non-stop about so many crazy things relating to Tartaria. This includes the general and popular notion that there were once civilizations on earth, before being wiped off the maps and erased from history, that were much more advanced in technology and other significant areas, than we will be even in the near future. We also look at Tartaria as a lens, or way of perception. As discussed on Divulgence before, we revisit the notion that education is a lie, and a tool of manipulation, and what we are taught during our upbringing may not necessarily be true (what is up, is really down). On top of that, we go over instances where the elites openly manipulate time, changing days and calendars. We review various maps and, with the different terrain layouts back in time, we consider the different/now non-existent routes and paths for travelling the world and the implications involved. Also discussed is the Bilderberg Group and the Davos Convention with respect to their goals of changing the culture of the world and people and their heritage, and the roots of mistruth (fake news). In this episode, it is important to pay attention to the similarities and differences between our time/world and the one that may have existed as Tartaria. These include the existence of Royal families, elites, trade networks and systems, manipulation of food supplies, and means of population control. One difference that is greatly significant within the study of Tartaria, is technology; as we will discuss in this episode and many more to come, there is much documented on the existence of some pretty wild technology in the past. The idea of that is crazy, as it completely diminishes the notion that we are the ever-graduating apex of our existence and potential! My favourite part is learning about the Library of Alexandria (more on this to come in the future for sure), as well as the concepts of book taxing and monopolizing of information that follow. This one is a wild ride so take it all in and digest it slowly. These are topics we will revisit in the future and break down much further, divulging much deeper!Resources: DIVULGENCE YOUTUBE - https://youtube.com/channel/UCStiGMkq3vDyOU6AW6DyvMgBITCHUTE - https://bitchute.com/channel/8QsxZf1nxO0C/ODYSEE - https://odysee.com/@Divulgencepod:0RUMBLE - https://rumble.com/user/DivulgenceTWITTER - @divulgencepodINSTAGRAM - @divulgencepodFACEBOOK - https://www.facebook.com/Divulgence-102662585502733BUY ME A COFFEE – https://buymeacoffee.com/divulgencepodPodcast available on YouTube, Spotify, Apple, Amazon Music, Stitcher, Pandora. For bookings or promotions, please message on Twitter.ANDREAS XIRTUShttp://www.xirtus.com/index.htmlhttps://www.youtube.com/user/xirtusXirtus@gmail.com

“They're single-purpose engines doing one thing in extraordinary ways, and they've been encouraged in that by the ecosystem around them, by the funding that's being pumped into them by people whose only motivation is simply to make more money–and you can see the results of that in the world as this technology has grown from a little acorn to now being the biggest Sequoia in the forest. And it's shading every other tree, it's taking all the light, it's taking all the energy from the forest, and it's distorting so much in the world.” Ben Pring is the director of Cognizant's Center for the Future of Work. In 2018 he was a Bilderberg Meeting participant and in 2020 was named one of world's top management thinkers by Thinkers 50. He co-authored Monster: A Tough Love Letter On Taming the Machines that Rule Our Jobs, Lives and Code Halos with Paul Roehrig, and Future, What To Do When Machines Do Everything with Roehrig & Malcolm Frank· www.cognizant.com/futureofwork/author/details/benjamin-pring· www.oneplanetpodcast.org· www.creativeprocess.info

Ben Pring is the director of Cognizant's Center for the Future of Work. In 2018 he was a Bilderberg Meeting participant and in 2020 was named one of world's top management thinkers by Thinkers 50. He co-authored Monster: A Tough Love Letter On Taming the Machines that Rule Our Jobs, Lives and Code Halos with Paul Roehrig, and Future, What To Do When Machines Do Everything with Roehrig & Malcolm Frank· www.cognizant.com/futureofwork/author/details/benjamin-pring· www.oneplanetpodcast.org· www.creativeprocess.info

“They're single-purpose engines doing one thing in extraordinary ways, and they've been encouraged in that by the ecosystem around them, by the funding that's being pumped into them by people whose only motivation is simply to make more money–and you can see the results of that in the world as this technology has grown from a little acorn to now being the biggest Sequoia in the forest. And it's shading every other tree, it's taking all the light, it's taking all the energy from the forest, and it's distorting so much in the world.” Ben Pring is the director of Cognizant's Center for the Future of Work. In 2018 he was a Bilderberg Meeting participant and in 2020 was named one of world's top management thinkers by Thinkers 50. He co-authored Monster: A Tough Love Letter On Taming the Machines that Rule Our Jobs, Lives and Code Halos with Paul Roehrig, and Future, What To Do When Machines Do Everything with Roehrig & Malcolm Frank· www.cognizant.com/futureofwork/author/details/benjamin-pring· www.oneplanetpodcast.org· www.creativeprocess.info

Ben Pring is the director of Cognizant's Center for the Future of Work. In 2018 he was a Bilderberg Meeting participant and in 2020 was named one of world's top management thinkers by Thinkers 50. He co-authored Monster: A Tough Love Letter On Taming the Machines that Rule Our Jobs, Lives and Code Halos with Paul Roehrig, and Future, What To Do When Machines Do Everything with Roehrig & Malcolm Frank· www.cognizant.com/futureofwork/author/details/benjamin-pring· www.oneplanetpodcast.org· www.creativeprocess.info

“They're single-purpose engines doing one thing in extraordinary ways, and they've been encouraged in that by the ecosystem around them, by the funding that's being pumped into them by people whose only motivation is simply to make more money–and you can see the results of that in the world as this technology has grown from a little acorn to now being the biggest Sequoia in the forest. And it's shading every other tree, it's taking all the light, it's taking all the energy from the forest, and it's distorting so much in the world.” Ben Pring is the director of Cognizant's Center for the Future of Work. In 2018 he was a Bilderberg Meeting participant and in 2020 was named one of world's top management thinkers by Thinkers 50. He co-authored Monster: A Tough Love Letter On Taming the Machines that Rule Our Jobs, Lives and Code Halos with Paul Roehrig, and Future, What To Do When Machines Do Everything with Roehrig & Malcolm Frank· www.cognizant.com/futureofwork/author/details/benjamin-pring· www.oneplanetpodcast.org· www.creativeprocess.info

“They're single-purpose engines doing one thing in extraordinary ways, and they've been encouraged that by the ecosystem around them, by the funding that's being pumped into them by people whose only motivation is simply to make more money–and you can see the results of that in the world as this technology has grown from a little acorn to now being the biggest Sequoia in the forest. And it's shading every other tree, it's taking all the light, it's taking all the energy from the forest, and it's distorting so much in the world.” Ben Pring is the director of Cognizant's Center for the Future of Work. In 2018 he was a Bilderberg Meeting participant and in 2020 was named one of world's top management thinkers by Thinkers 50. He co-authored Monster: A Tough Love Letter On Taming the Machines that Rule Our Jobs, Lives and Code Halos with Paul Roehrig, and Future, What To Do When Machines Do Everything with Roehrig & Malcolm Frank· www.cognizant.com/futureofwork/author/details/benjamin-pring· www.oneplanetpodcast.org· www.creativeprocess.info

“They're single-purpose engines doing one thing in extraordinary ways, and they've been encouraged in that by the ecosystem around them, by the funding that's being pumped into them by people whose only motivation is simply to make more money–and you can see the results of that in the world as this technology has grown from a little acorn to now being the biggest Sequoia in the forest. And it's shading every other tree, it's taking all the light, it's taking all the energy from the forest, and it's distorting so much in the world.” Ben Pring is the director of Cognizant's Center for the Future of Work. In 2018 he was a Bilderberg Meeting participant and in 2020 was named one of world's top management thinkers by Thinkers 50. He co-authored Monster: A Tough Love Letter On Taming the Machines that Rule Our Jobs, Lives and Code Halos with Paul Roehrig, and Future, What To Do When Machines Do Everything with Roehrig & Malcolm Frank· www.cognizant.com/futureofwork/author/details/benjamin-pring· www.oneplanetpodcast.org· www.creativeprocess.info

Ben Pring is the director of Cognizant's Center for the Future of Work. In 2018 he was a Bilderberg Meeting participant and in 2020 was named one of world's top management thinkers by Thinkers 50. He co-authored Monster: A Tough Love Letter On Taming the Machines that Rule Our Jobs, Lives and Code Halos with Paul Roehrig, and Future, What To Do When Machines Do Everything with Roehrig & Malcolm Frank· www.cognizant.com/futureofwork/author/details/benjamin-pring· www.oneplanetpodcast.org· www.creativeprocess.info

“They're single-purpose engines doing one thing in extraordinary ways, and they've been encouraged that by the ecosystem around them, by the funding that's being pumped into them by people whose only motivation is simply to make more money–and you can see the results of that in the world as this technology has grown from a little acorn to now being the biggest Sequoia in the forest. And it's shading every other tree, it's taking all the light, it's taking all the energy from the forest, and it's distorting so much in the world.” Ben Pring is the director of Cognizant's Center for the Future of Work. In 2018 he was a Bilderberg Meeting participant and in 2020 was named one of world's top management thinkers by Thinkers 50. He co-authored Monster: A Tough Love Letter On Taming the Machines that Rule Our Jobs, Lives and Code Halos with Paul Roehrig, and Future, What To Do When Machines Do Everything with Roehrig & Malcolm Frank· www.cognizant.com/futureofwork/author/details/benjamin-pring· www.oneplanetpodcast.org· www.creativeprocess.info

In this podcast, Ben Pring co-founded and leads the Center for the Future of Work at Cognizant discussed the challenges of technology and transformation as we go through the future of work. Ben shared some challenges of not doing technology transformation properly. He also talked about his book Monster sharing similar insights as it relates to technology and its adoption. Introduction: Ben Pring co-founded and leads the Center for the Future of Work at Cognizant, a $16+ billion American multinational technology company that provides consulting, information technology, and outsourcing services and has over 289,500 employees. Ben sits on the advisory board of the Labor and Work-Life program at Harvard Law School. In 2018 Ben was a Bilderberg Meeting participant. Ben was named as one of 30 management thinkers to watch in 2020 by Thinkers 50. He was recently named a leading influencer on the future of work by Onalytica. In 2007, Ben won Gartner's prestigious Thought Leader Award. His work has been featured in the Wall Street Journal, the Financial Times, the London Times, the Drucker Forum Report, Business Insider, Forbes, and Fortune. Based near Boston since 2000, Ben graduated with a degree in Philosophy from Manchester University, in the UK where he grew up. Here's the GPS for the questions (These are just the boundaries questions to give a rough journey for the conversation): Stage 1: Lead-in 1. Starter: Give your starter pitch 1 point that this book points to: 2. Vishal briefly introduce guest Stage 2: Subject Matter Expertise 3. What is the state of work today? 4. Why did you chose to invest yourself in FutureOfWork 5. How has the future of work changed since the last year? 6. What is one thing people get wrong about Work & Technology? Stage 3: Introduction as an author 7. Why do you call technology a "monster" that we can't yet tame? 8. Why did you feel it was important for you as tech insiders to speak up about a topic that many others are running from? 9. What's been missing from today's heated conversation about technology's rising power? 10. Why write monster? 11. Why relate technology with a monster? 12. How to reclaim control of technology? 13. What is the role of government? 14. What is the role of business? 15. What is the role of a leader? Stage 4: Rapid Fire with Ben Pring [Say what comes to your mind] 16 a. #FutureOfWork 16 b. #Technology 16 c. #Leadership 16 d. #Monster 16 e. #Equity 16 f. #Diversity 16 g. #Legislature 16 h. #JobsOfFuture 16 i. #FutureOfLearning 16 j. #Something exciting 16 k. #Things that keep you up at night? Stage 5: Closing 17. What are 1-3 best practices that you think are the key to success in your journey? 18. Do you have any favorite read? 19. As a closing remark, what would you like to tell our audience? About TAO.ai[Sponsor]: TAO is building the World's largest and AI-powered Skills Universe and Community powering career development platform empowering some of the World's largest communities/organizations. Learn more at https://TAO.ai About WorkPod: Work Pod takes you on the journey with leaders, experts, academics, authors, and change-makers designing the future of work, workers, and the workplace. About Work2.org WorkPod is managed by Work2.org, a #FutureOfWork community for HR and Organization architects and leaders. Sponsorship / Guest Request should be directed to info@tao.ai Keywords: #FutureofWork #Work2.0 #Work2dot0 #Leadership #Growth #Org2dot0 #Work2 #Org2

In this podcast, Ben Pring co-founded and leads the Center for the Future of Work at Cognizant discussed the challenges of technology and transformation as we go through the future of work. Ben shared some challenges of not doing technology transformation properly. He also talked about his book Monster sharing similar insights as it relates to technology and its adoption. Introduction: Ben Pring co-founded and leads the Center for the Future of Work at Cognizant, a $16+ billion American multinational technology company that provides consulting, information technology, and outsourcing services and has over 289,500 employees. Ben sits on the advisory board of the Labor and Work-Life program at Harvard Law School. In 2018 Ben was a Bilderberg Meeting participant. Ben was named as one of 30 management thinkers to watch in 2020 by Thinkers 50. He was recently named a leading influencer on the future of work by Onalytica. In 2007, Ben won Gartner's prestigious Thought Leader Award. His work has been featured in the Wall Street Journal, the Financial Times, the London Times, the Drucker Forum Report, Business Insider, Forbes, and Fortune. Based near Boston since 2000, Ben graduated with a degree in Philosophy from Manchester University, in the UK where he grew up. Here's the GPS for the questions (These are just the boundaries questions to give a rough journey for the conversation): Stage 1: Lead-in 1. Starter: Give your starter pitch 1 point that this book points to: 2. Vishal briefly introduce guest Stage 2: Subject Matter Expertise 3. What is the state of work today? 4. Why did you chose to invest yourself in FutureOfWork 5. How has the future of work changed since the last year? 6. What is one thing people get wrong about Work & Technology? Stage 3: Introduction as an author 7. Why do you call technology a "monster" that we can't yet tame? 8. Why did you feel it was important for you as tech insiders to speak up about a topic that many others are running from? 9. What's been missing from today's heated conversation about technology's rising power? 10. Why write monster? 11. Why relate technology with a monster? 12. How to reclaim control of technology? 13. What is the role of government? 14. What is the role of business? 15. What is the role of a leader? Stage 4: Rapid Fire with Ben Pring [Say what comes to your mind] 16 a. #FutureOfWork 16 b. #Technology 16 c. #Leadership 16 d. #Monster 16 e. #Equity 16 f. #Diversity 16 g. #Legislature 16 h. #JobsOfFuture 16 i. #FutureOfLearning 16 j. #Something exciting 16 k. #Things that keep you up at night? Stage 5: Closing 17. What are 1-3 best practices that you think are the key to success in your journey? 18. Do you have any favorite read? 19. As a closing remark, what would you like to tell our audience? About TAO.ai[Sponsor]: TAO is building the World's largest and AI-powered Skills Universe and Community powering career development platform empowering some of the World's largest communities/organizations. Learn more at https://TAO.ai About WorkPod: Work Pod takes you on the journey with leaders, experts, academics, authors, and change-makers designing the future of work, workers, and the workplace. About Work2.org WorkPod is managed by Work2.org, a #FutureOfWork community for HR and Organization architects and leaders. Sponsorship / Guest Request should be directed to info@tao.ai Keywords: #FutureofWork #Work2.0 #Work2dot0 #Leadership #Growth #Org2dot0 #Work2 #Org2

In this episode, we talk to Ben Pring (Futurist and Author) about his book, why tech is due for a bit of regulation, and so much more.  Purchase Monster: A Tough Love Letter On Taming the Machines that Rule our Jobs, Lives, and Future 1st Edition Ben Pring co-founded and leads the Center for the Future of Work at Cognizant, an American multinational technology company that provides consulting information technology, and outsourcing services. Ben sits on the advisory board of the Labor and Work-Life program at Harvard Law School. In 2018 Ben was a Bilderberg Meeting participant. Ben was named as one of 30 management thinkers to watch in 2020 by Thinkers 50. He was recently named a leading influencer on the future of work by Onalytica. In 2007, Ben won Gartner's prestigious Thought Leader Award. His work has been featured in the Wall Street Journal, the Financial Times, the London Times, the Drucker Forum Report, Business Insider, Forbes, and Fortune. Based near Boston since 2000, Ben graduated with a degree in Philosophy from Manchester University, in the UK where he grew up. Follow The Startup Life On Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, or LinkedIn Follow the StartupBlog or buy some gear from our website.  Subscribe to our Patreon to listen to ad-free episodes, exclusive content, and digital products that we are beginning to offer.    You can also donate to the show via CashApp: $TheStartupLifePod Follow us on Clubhouse to interact with the show when we create content there.  Check out other great podcasts from The Binge Podcast Network. Written by: Dominic Lawson  Executive Producers: Dominic Lawson and Kenda Lawson Music Credits: **Show Theme**  Behind Closed Doors - Otis McDonald  **Break Theme** Cielo - Huma-Huma    

How can we take back control of technology so it will shape the society we want for ourselves instead of becoming a monster we can no longer tame? Monster: A Tough Love Letter On Taming the Machines that Rule our Jobs, Lives, and Future - https://amzn.to/3fAeX8T Ben Pring co-founded and leads the Center for the Future of Work at Cognizant, an American multinational technology company that provides consulting, information technology and outsourcing services. Ben sits on the advisory board of the Labor and Work Life program at Harvard Law School. In 2018 Ben was a Bilderberg Meeting participant. Ben was named as one of 30 management thinkers to watch in 2020 by Thinkers 50. He was recently named a leading influencer on the future of work by Onalytica. In 2007, Ben won Gartner's prestigious Thought Leader Award. His work has been featured in the Wall Street Journal, the Financial Times, the London Times, the Drucker Forum Report, Business Insider, Forbes, and Fortune. Based near Boston since 2000, Ben graduated with a degree in Philosophy from Manchester University, in the UK where he grew up. Enjoying our podcast? Get access to sample advanced training episodes here: www.firmsconsulting.com/promo We use affiliate links whenever possible (if you purchase items listed above using our affiliate links, we will get a bonus).

Back from their short break, Cody and Phil return with the latest Episode of The Subliminal Deception Podcast, discussing some of the conspiracies surrounding the yearly Bilderberg Meeting, and take a look at the elite previous attendees of the secretive meetings.

In this episode of "Keen On", Andrew is joined by Ben Pring, the author of "Monster", to discuss the impact of Big Tech on the fundamental aspects of society such as politics, work, the wider economy and surveillance. Ben Pring co-founded and leads Cognizant's Center for the Future of Work. Ben is a co-author of the best-selling and award-winning books, What To Do When Machines Do Everything (2017) and Code Halos; How the Digital Lives of People, Things, and Organizations are Changing the Rules of Business (2014). Ben sits on the advisory board of the Labor and Work Life program at Harvard Law School. In 2018 Ben was a Bilderberg Meeting participant. Ben was named as one of 30 management thinkers to watch in 2020 by Thinkers 50. He was recently named a leading influencer on the future of work by Onalytica. Ben joined Cognizant in 2011, from Gartner, where he spent 15 years researching and advising on areas such as Cloud Computing and Global Sourcing. Prior to Gartner Ben worked for a number of consulting companies including Coopers and Lybrand. At Gartner Ben was the lead analyst on all things "Cloud" he wrote the industry's first research notes on Cloud Computing (in 1997!), and Salesforce.com (in 2001), and became well known for providing provocative but accurate predictions about the future of IT. In 2007, Ben won Gartner's prestigious Thought Leader Award. Ben's expertise in helping clients see around corners, think the unthinkable, and calculate the compound annual growth rate of unintended consequences has made him an internationally recognized expert on leading edge technology and its intersection with business and society. His work has been featured in the Wall Street Journal, the Financial Times, the London Times, the Drucker Forum Report, Business Insider, Forbes, Fortune, The Sun, the MIT Review, the Daily Telegraph, the Daily Mail, Parade, the Times of India, Quartz, Inc., Axios, the Australian, and the Economic Times. Based near Boston since 2000, Ben graduated with a degree in Philosophy from Manchester University in the UK where he grew up. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

It’s been a whole year, and we’ve been bringing it to you every week. Our very first episode started out with a body found in the woods and now our anniversary episode brings you secret societies. Nydia tells all about the infamous Molly Mcquires, who murdered for fair wages and better working conditions. Did they take it a little far? Dana brings us the Ordo Templi Orientis, a secret society led by Alistair Crowley, Satanism’s unofficial father. His poetry is music to our ears. Cindy shares the Bilderberg Meeting, a reunion of government heads in secret and the fodder for so many conspiracy theories.  For dinner, Cindy cooked up a Sheppard’s Pie with the secret ingredient of Guinness Beer. It was a hearty Irish meal themed after Nydia’s story, and the Guinness gave it an earthy flavor. For dessert, we had a cheesecake filled chocolate bundt cake. The dark chocolate and cheesecake was a superb combination. Our wine this week was a  Chateau Reynier Bordeaux Superieur. It’s a $13 wine that tasted like a $50 bottle. It paired well with our Irish fare.  You can find the links to the stories and food photos on: www.winedineandstorytime.com Check us out on Social too!!  https://www.facebook.com/winedineandstorytime https://www.instagram.com/winedinestorytime/ https://twitter.com/WDStoryTime or call us some time  6093003094Sound Credit:Squeaky DoorKnockFireworksCheeringRewind

In this mini Tori and Ash talk about the annual meeting of The Bilderberg Group and the rumored nefarious things that allegedly happen behind closed doors. --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/toil-and-trouble-a-podcast-of-the-macabre/support

Watch this full episode of Good Morning Bushwick in 4K on www.30DaysToRock.us - Aired 7/29/20 --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/budandroach/message

Join the guys this week as they discuss the mysterious Bilderberg Meeting, an annual four day gathering of the world's richest and most powerful people that no one outside the group knows anything about. Oh it's real, they actually have a website. Put your conspiracy hats on.

[YouTube Video Version: https://youtu.be/DYjN2DYBKS8] The 2019 edition of the exclusive Bilderberg Meeting will take place at the Hotel MontreuPalace in the #Swiss town of Montreux from Thursday to Sunday. It will feature Swiss Finance Minister Ueli Maurer, French Economy Minister Bruno Le Maire, the head of Germany’s Christian Democrats, Annegret Kramp-Karrenbauer, and Crédit-Suisse CEO Tidjane Thiam among others. According to Swiss daily Tages Anzeiger, US Secretary of State Mike Pompeo will also be among the attendees, although he is not on the official guest list on the Bildberg website. The Swiss paper reports that Pompeo is set to sit down with Ueli Maurer. The two are tipped to discuss the situation in Iran where Switzerland represents US interests. However, the Swiss Finance Ministry told The Local on Tuesday that no meeting was envisaged between Pompeo and Maurer. The yearly Bilderberg talk-fest, which dates back to 1954, features a guest list of around 130 people from #Europe and North America including everyone from royals to business tycoons and academics. However, organisers argue the private nature of the event gives attendees the chance to hold informal discussions about major issues. The topics announced by the organizers for the 2019 Bilderberg meeting are: 1. A Stable Strategic Order 2. What Next for Europe? 3. Climate Change and Sustainability 4. China 5. Russia 6. The Future of Capitalism 7. Brexit 8. The Ethics of Artificial Intelligence 9. The Weaponisation of Social Media 10. The Importance of Space 11. Cyber Threats Become An EXCLUSIVE Member: https://www.patreon.com/FreedomFaction Website: http://factionsoffreedom.jimdo.com/ Email: FreedomsFactions@Gmail.com

On this episode of Fault Lines, hosts Garland Nixon and Lee Stranahan analyze how the QAnon craziness has impacted our political climate and why it has taken attention away from important revelations made by Julian Assange and WikiLeaks. Are QAnon supporters now running out of steam, or is there always a new "plan" and narrative to "trust?"Guests:Ariel Gold - National Co-Director at Code Pink | Venezuela Update, Netanyahu's Struggles & The Abortion DebateCarmine Sabia - Writer & Managing Editor at TheFederalistPapers.org | What is the Anti-Trump Media Hoping to Accomplish?Ryan Cristián - Founder and Editor of The Last American Vagabond | Venezuela, ElectionGuard, Julian Assange & Bilderberg 2019Ariel Gold, National Co-Director at Code Pink, returns to 'Fault Lines' to provide an update on the arrests and subsequent charges from earlier this month related to events at the Venezuelan Embassy in Washington DC. They also discuss how the political situation in Venezuela has evolved in recent weeks, Benjamin Netanyahu's problems trying to form a new coalition government in Israel, and how Code Pink is getting involved in the abortion debate following new laws being passed related to this issue.Some Democrats and members of "The Resistance" have interpreted Robert Mueller's recent public announcement as a green light to pursue the impeachment of President Trump. Carmine Sabia, Writer & Managing Editor at TheFederalistPapers.org, joins today's program to give his analysis of Mueller's announcement, how the major news networks covered this event, and what the true motives of the anti-Trump media really are.For the final two segments, Garland and Lee are joined by Ryan Cristián, Founder and Editor of The Last American Vagabond, for a conversation about a variety of topics including US involvement in Venezuela and Microsoft's new election software, ElectionGuard. They also discuss the status of Julian Assange's health and the significance of Mike Pompeo and Jared Kushner attending this year's Bilderberg Meeting.

Monday Show, Bilderberg meeting, tweet threat gets 6 years, and more

Emergency Exit episode 37: Tonight on the program Brandon and Los discuss money, cryptocurrency, the Fed, and the almighty dollar. Why are we slaves to paper? Why is gold so valuable? The Bilderberg Meeting in " We Got The News" Your comments from Youtube live stream read live. Facebook.com/EmergencyExitPodcast Twitter @EmExPOD Check out the live video below! https://youtu.be/ZxwML20XSeg

This week we deliver another LIVE broadcast this week from the great naval port of Plymouth in Great Britain, with host Patrick Henningsen, alongside UK Column editor Mike Robinson, to cover the top stories of the week internationally, including last night’s London Bridge Attack and the UK General Election. In the first hour, we’re joined by Rev. Andrew Ashdown fresh off his one month trip to Syria to discuss threats to a multi-faith Middle East and the roots of global terrorism. In the second hour, we’ll connect LIVE on the ground in Chantilly, Virginia at the annual Bilderberg Meeting with AFP roving correspondent Mark Anderson to find out what is the secret globalist agenda. In the third hour, we’ll connect with author Jay Dyer of Jays Analysis to look at the geopolitical influence of the recently deceased globalist scion Zbigniew Brzezinski.Purchase Jay's book here:https://jaysanalysis.com/jays-book/

What is this strange thing called the Bilderberg Group? Is it something that we should we be concerned about? Or is it, as many people say, essentially just a "talking shop" for rich people? To put us in the picture, we welcome back to the programme Tony Gosling, investigative radio journalist and former BBC reporter. Tony, who came on TMR back in 2013 to discuss the "official" and "unofficial" histories of this infamous Group, now joins us to share his experience of covering the 64th Bilderberg Meeting, which was held recently in Dresden, Germany, between the 9th and 12th of June. We also discuss the political climate here in the UK following the EU Referendum, and the anti-Corbyn coup by the parliamentary Labour Party. (For show notes please visit http://themindrenewed.com)

What is this strange thing called the Bilderberg Group? Is it something that we should we be concerned about? Or is it, as many people say, essentially just a "talking shop" for rich people? To put us in the picture, we welcome back to the programme Tony Gosling, investigative radio journalist and former BBC reporter. Tony, who came on TMR back in 2013 to discuss the "official" and "unofficial" histories of this infamous Group, now joins us to share his experience of covering the 64th Bilderberg Meeting, which was held recently in Dresden, Germany, between the 9th and 12th of June. We also discuss the political climate here in the UK following the EU Referendum, and the anti-Corbyn coup by the parliamentary Labour Party. (For show notes please visit http://themindrenewed.com)

Join Barry Secrest as he discusses the latest political events from a cutting edge, Conservative perspective.  Lee Daniels also joins Barry for the second half of the show.  Tonight's topics include: Bilderberg Meeting 2014: The Latest 'New World Order' List Boasts Numerous US Attendees CNN's Widely Circulated '10 Mile-Wide Asteroid Collision with Earth' Story from Nasa: False The Mark: NBC News Predicts Micro-Chip Implant for All Americans by 2017 (Youtube)  

In this episode we take a look at the protests and anger growing across the globe. I talk about the politics and manipulation of crisis we are seeing all over the media today. Topics: Strange Deaths of those involved with the Boston Bombing, and the Trillion Dollar Farm Bill, Stockholm Riots, Social Media monitoring, XBox One Surveillance, DHS engaging IRS protesters, Monsanto Protests, Bilderberg Meeting, Lisbon Treaty Treason, Bankster Paradise, Woolwich Slaying, and other current events.

6pm EST/ 3pm PST: Hours 1 & 2,  Liberty Underground/ Morretti Report.  Please join Jo Anne Morretti, JoJo Norton & Friends  for the latest news, commentary and in depth investigative journalism . HOUR THREE:The Valerie Sargent Martin Show - Valerie Sargent Martin talks politics with a Southern accent. Each week Valerie features guests who are real-world examples of people taking back their government. Radio show host Derrick Broze and Tea Party activist Sonny Thomas join Valerie this episode to discuss the recent Bilderberg Meeting. Valerie analyzes the week's major news and shares her opinion on international markets, business, and public policy.  Valerie is a nationally recognized political activist and former ‘Liberty Candidate' for U.S. Congress.

Vince discusses subversive Bilderberg Meeting in Switzerland, Chicago's disloyalty to 2nd Amendment despite Supreme Court decision and other news.  Vince will be on hiatus the remainder of June with some sporadic shows during that time.

Tonight on the Front: Obama's unprecedented warmongering, first its expanding war into 15 countries, now he's waging war on whales!, Nasa's terrifying space weather, What do Bilderberg 2010 and Paris Hilton have in common? The spotlight baby!, Blackjack and Nuke attacks in the USA! Denial isn't sexy! See you all on the Front!