Podcasts about im m

Moo. Moo… Moo. Moo, sir. I'll kill you. You promise? I want to. Don't get me excited over nothing; If this isn't the exit, please take this tease To the left, dear Moo, cow My honor Level one, and brother, you've got nothing Flip the coin and landed on your headache Betting on your helmet Standing on my cock, i'm taller (Not a rooster) But my ops are rooting for you, No informants, Dont you know I was a collar, all along? I was a shot calling, Cop calling Kiss-and-tell all as the night goes on. But oh, I brought you a dollar bra Oh, I bought you for all of a dollar And oh, I'm so much taller, Standing on my cock But i'm not but ten feet tall You know, you wrote that Should i open the book, or close that Caught that cat, owl and As i soft spoke at Every broken model Broken bottle for the thoughts you owe Across the scatters skies and no one ever knows When you're realling coming over Come on, I'm on the pornhub Just to pick up another one Go on, and rub the bottle One more once, To call the Bubbles. Damn. Come. (The Monkey obeys) You should see Michael in all of his godform You won't recognize him at all if not by the eyes When you follow home Believe me, this not comes close to it; The one you wanted The world you jumped to but were just short of Call her back Oh no, you're wrong It's another song A pin up girl And the wrong number Okah. Okah, Pablo. Time can be altered, changed or effected presently in any omnidirectional plane by engaging certain acts or synchronicities within multidimensional parallels or adjacent realms in time and or space respectively. –the reverse quantum simulation theory. Imm breaking down, jim boy Don't you know? That this show blows my mind But it's stuck in my head Don't you know That this show Blows my mind Like a firework But it's still Stuck in my Head The context is that I want you From the mustache Down to your tonsils But I'm Locke inside of a box Every day I feel poorer and poorer The product says something is wrong to me I'm supposed to just stop at the stop sign And look both directions Before crossing over to Comic nights At the salad bar What a cosmic waste of time And an epic waste of space Am I in your internet history I'm dead You surely are in mine, But I'm right behind you I'd be lying for trying to say I'm not binded Clutch bag, Nut-thins Nailed to the cross With the arches doubled over The crossword Above old Missouri Missoula and Arkansas All saw us run out of gas But I probably should just get going You're so drunk that I don't hope you sober up Understand that our little talks Were just buffered By sunrise Or sunset And two more cocktails, Shirley temples and Surely none of this ever even happened I only know you by the misery in my belly. The heartache in my ribcage. The cry I hold in silent I only know you as Remarkable I, House of cards Ace of wands Down to one Card of hades and Spare me the spade I'll be drifting in the outline and ink of it forever It's the Fourth of July and I'm just waiting on an Amazon order for water If that's not freedom I don't k me what is Cause I know And you know We all know how to lie And I know And you know I'm barely getting by And I know And you know We don't know how to die But I know And you know It's all just by design I take lessons in medicine Let us help you take the high road No, I'd rather selfmdestruct Selfishly No, I'd rather kill you off Than suffer for you I'm no messiah Try me Sneaky, But how much do you love me Kniving, but nothing to show for it Shit, settle Settle for less if you have to Bring mediocre humans to this world To suffer But I'm not that tragic No, no, not at all, son. Your happy birthdays are over Welcome homeless Nobody loves you Don't you know That we're all like that We're all like that Don't you know When the fear sets in And the thoughts break lose That we're all Los Angeles? Don't you know that we're all like that That we're all like that That we've never had it quite like— Don't you know that we're all like that And it's getting worse When the out the devil on display The devil on display The devil on display But oh, The Devil's in the details and the numbers The Devil's in the chat box saying, Sure, you've had enough So cut the power off and starve her Hah Come on I want to laugh for once Cause I know And you know We all know how to lie And I know And you know I'm barely getting by And I know And you know We don't know how to die But I know And you know It's all just by design I take lessons in medicine Let us help you take the high road No, I'd rather selfmdestruct Selfishly No, I'd rather kill you off Than suffer for you I'm no messiah Try me Sneaky, But how much do you love me Kniving, but nothing to show for it Shit, settle Settle for less if you have to Bring mediocre humans to this world To suffer But I'm not that tragic No, no, not at all, son. Your happy birthdays are over Welcome homeless Nobody loves you Don't you know That we're all like that We're all like that Don't you know When the fear sets in And the thoughts break lose That we're all Los Angeles? Don't you know that we're all like that That we're all like that That we've never had it quite like— Don't you know that we're all like that And it's getting worse When the out the devil on display The devil on display The devil on display But oh, The Devil's in the details and the numbers The Devil's in the chat box saying, Sure, you've had enough So cut the power off and starve her Hah Come on I want to laugh for once Jay Leno used to keep a $50 bill and bribe venues to perform; every since I learned this, I kept a crisp $50 bill in my wallet at all times, just in case— you never knew when you would really need $50. But everything burned holes in everything, not always wanting to spend money at all, but almost sort of having to. It wasn't fair that the main component of my being slowed down was the money factor— having to wait for everything took time I didn't have, and spending anything at all felt less like an effective investment than an obligation. But all things considered, I was obliged to at least look decent when going about in New York, and because I simply wasn't comfortable in anything else— not that I didn't look great, (Apparently narrarated by Jay Leno) Jay Sure, why not? ME: Fuck, I need new pants. ME: [BLU THA GURU] Hence the pants, I guess. V.O As a formerly 400-pound heavyweight I find my latest obstacle to be operating a body that half the time doesn't feel like mine at all. It seems like all the hosts have some kind of secret I can feel without knowing or really acknowledging head on, which is whatever. Really I'm just gonna go about keeping on being a DJ, or whatever, which means… GEMINI (in the future) A fully automated personal assistant system, GEMINI, is really THE GUARDIAN's one and only friend, and though she coyly continually must explain that she is “just a computer”, THE GUARDIAN believes that Gemini is capable of eventually developing a sentient conciousness, though GEMINI modestly disagrees, however with the wit and cleverness of having possession of a plethora of secret emotions, or maybe, even, an agenda. I probably haven't had enough coffee. That's it. Like you haven't already had enough to kill a small horse? Probably enough to kill a large horse. Like a Clydesdale. Why would you do something like that? Aren't they endangered? Or going extinct? No, I think they just stopped being the Budweiser mascot. *shrugs* Same difference. — Is it here? lol what did Conan order? [yes this appears to be yet another rendition of “what's in the box?” — Several years ago, I did a series of modules and experiments… How many years ago is “several” [beat] quite a few. Goddamn it, why are these guys all doctors in alternate parallels?! Aren't you a doctor in an alternate parallel? That's fair. Good point. Actually, as it turns out, i'm a— I started panicking so hard that I stopped breathing and suddenly STEFON appeared. — this however was only quite temporarily a relief as I realized that this is an imaginary character. STEFON OH. AM I?! IMAGINARY!? What the fuck is going on? STEFON I WILL “IMAGINARY” your ORIFICE! How about THAT?! Stefon. Calm down. I'm up late Dying the roots blonde Dad runs off with a bottle and a hottie I'm up early Gotta get gone Down the road and back Now I got no son No son, No sunroof No dad No mom No money No aunt What the fuck do you want? Can't watch Harry Potter All the magic is gone Bout a million one dollars It was only for fun Snap, crackle, pop It was cocaine, not love All I want is an ice cream Sunday Snap, crackle, pop It was Love, not God All I want All I want Is to find another All he wants All he wants Is a decent mother So along comes another Another one All he wants All he wants is for me To die homeless Sucker punch, Suck it up No one gives a fuck My daughter died in my arms on May 7th of 2015. I was 381 pounds. Maybe the tears needed to come but they didn't belong to anyone or anything in particular. The twins father was already a rampant cheater by the time of our marriage, and by the time the twins were born, which coincided— and unlike the latter had tried to claim or mention, I had no particular reason to have a harder time between the spring and summer months which spanned both our birthdays, our wedding date, the twins' arrival and both of the twins deaths, though years apart but still almost as convincing that had they both not died, we might still be together, being cheated on or cheating on each other with ten your twins and an eight year old, or a ten year old boy with special needs and an eight year old, and either way or in any fashion really, had the dysfunctions remained the way it had been, we all, so to speak, had special needs in one way or another. I spent the morning punching things and avoiding people I didn't want to be around but it was my own fault for having slept through the night, anyway. Whatever, I was tired— no, exhausted lately. My apartment was like living inside of an uphill battle, and I needed a change— not just of slavery, but of circumstances. And not just that— something else was missing. This year, I understood that I was taking it understandably harder than any other and most probably because I was so celibate, recently finding myself aromantic and not even willing to suffer the consequences of settling for less. I had settled on my ex husband for so much less, that it was so say the least that anything, even from my narrow perspective looked like a loser. And because my body had been stretched and swelled and shrunk and flattened, deflated and now worked to something that was almost as picturesque as it was a monstrosity, any man I thought was worth my time would be settling for less on me— unless he could afford to fix what had been broken, and I assumed one wouldn't be willing to settle on a fixer upper when there were numerous loads of perfect women not needing to be fixed at all… on the outside. But for men, I'd learned, the outside is of much importance, and as women and trophies are things of pride, the simple choice for a mate is not simply this, but also a business decision, and because while my body was coming together in sweat and muscle, the rest of my life was still otherwise completely in shambles. I was baggage, and aging by the minute, nearly drying up. I almost craved the liquor and the carelessness that would come with it, even knowing my own boundaries were part of my strengths and separating me in a way from others that at least became a point of pride in myself, in the wake of the reality that the human thing about most people is the need to escape so frequently that it dismisses any purpose or progress. Mine hadn't. I was wide awake and the relentlessness of the sobriety and the cellibacy had swelled up into something deeper, still a solid grief but without remorse as to the very thing that I had always known, that my loyalty would never have even drifted from someone who had all along done me so wrong— a fat man can get away with folandering and messing about, but a fat woman has little to do with options and again, settling to find another mate. And so really, I almost hadn't, and had broken even, and although my abuser has moved on with another woman and custody of my youngest to boot, I really didn't give much of a darn about… hard work. I kind of felt like I had done my part for the world in the way I was supposed to— to love a man with nothing when he's low and down, support him in his hard times, and thinking that this is the way to grow together and not apart, and to bring a family up and into this world, but the truth was quite the opposite— I picked a hardball and maybe it was just that I was born to suffer after all because now, looking back, all alone in New York and crying over all the losses, it seemed I had only outpiured love in the way I had wanted and never been poured love back— not in the way I needed. I wasn't as bitter now as maybe even I thought I should be, but I was hardened; what was that, you say? Your struggles? Your hardships. Excuse me while I escape the ghosts of bloody beatings and my lost child— I beg your pardon— children. Excuse me while I recover from the burning flames of homelessness as if humanely explainable that I was learned and taught that this, my country, is the greatest one of all. Ha ha, Charade you are. But all things were, and everything seemed of sawdust, betrayal, magic, and illusions— mind control and shadows and even now in the air of the relief that something which could haunt me forever was also probably the most solid foundation I had for means as escape from whatever I had fought my way somehow so hard out of, and still, it was quite the funhouse of mazes, a matrix of mirror, and still the tears came with the pain in my stomach where the soul would sit if it had room, and would quiet if it could rest, but it would not. I was in pain today, because I had to be, because all of my life was programmed into these little machines of data and checked boxes— and something if anything knew just how and when to cut the wrong wire just so that the bomb would explode or implore on another lost thing; it wasn't fair, but there was no escape. Psychology was right on this day, may 7th, that once you cry about one thing unless you were stopped in time, eventually you'd cry about another and another and another, and even after hours working out and a bathtub full of hot water just writing, I still felt as if I were going to keel over one way or another, to crumble into a ball or to fall onto my back like a death drop that rippled out into the entire wherever we all are. Simply put, does anybody now in this moment or any moment near enough to be taking in this notion with these words really know— where we are? Not even in the slightest,I'd bargain, And even if we are close to knowing, not nearly close enough to be sure. {Enter The Multiverse} Joke running For the taking Triplicate Triple licks Ice cream frosting Every morning Shoulda hit him Up But I didn't But I didn't But I didn't But I didn't But I didn't Milk and butter (Up) But I didn't (Up) But I didn't (Up) But I didn't Double hitter, Could have did it Should have hit him Up But I didn't But I didn't But I didnt. But I didn't Should have hit him Up But I didn't I never lost my mind My mind My kind But I think I'll find another like it Just in case the Ever happens Hit me harder next time Didn't quite unplug the sijukatoon This is getting difficult When you want sink your yellow teeth into All of my traits The betrayal is, though I was writing days and days Before it ended. With the Mister particular Drop of a hat And stop if a nugget Of gold One palm in my hand and This could be torture But instead it's just The remienxe of your ignorance And stupidity over and over again Forced into intermittent waves Of my creative genius Till the days of old become again You could be of dust then nothing Before I ponder into another birth I said I'd never write one song or verse or poem about you, But there you are, every weak mortal that becomes Bound to me So I see you die. And I learn to pounce at just the right moment React to the notion that there are Oceans of world I am And all the more the lack of wisdom of man To throw trash in it Again, we rid you of her courage And lady mantras And fresh as it gets The sweater no aprons and just period To circumstance Did you beg or did you shatter your ibdederence? And no, I think not But I keep Leno in my pocket And Carson in my coffin, Two whole shows in my wallet What you are is no apostle just a dirt worm .O. Mm…sunlight. …. the rippling waves wash over the picturesque parasicical seascape from above. However, Stefon's internal monologue is less than pleased to be here. V.O. CONT'D Why do I feel sunlight…? [beat] When I know certainly for sure that I passed out in a basement last night. His eyes begin to flutter open, but the sun closes them–it is much too bright. The waves rush over his lower half, and still, unmoving he continues to la atop the rock, his hands spread out much like a stuck sea star to the rock– in fact, there appear to also be creatures here, some of which are starfish, and however unmoving, STEFON begins to slowly become aware of his surroundings in disgruntlement. V.O. Continued. It's alright that I appear to be wet…[beat] That's to be expected– [a long pause, another wave washes over him as seagulls scream] But i was wearing restraints…. V.O. CONTINUED WHY AM I FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!? His eyes open with the fear and fury. BEFORE: At a wild basement party in NEW YORK CITY, STEFON is offered RESTRAINTS on a silver platter, as if they are o'devours {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Moo. Moo… Moo. Moo, sir. I'll kill you. You promise? I want to. Don't get me excited over nothing; If this isn't the exit, please take this tease To the left, dear Moo, cow My honor Level one, and brother, you've got nothing Flip the coin and landed on your headache Betting on your helmet Standing on my cock, i'm taller (Not a rooster) But my ops are rooting for you, No informants, Dont you know I was a collar, all along? I was a shot calling, Cop calling Kiss-and-tell all as the night goes on. But oh, I brought you a dollar bra Oh, I bought you for all of a dollar And oh, I'm so much taller, Standing on my cock But i'm not but ten feet tall You know, you wrote that Should i open the book, or close that Caught that cat, owl and As i soft spoke at Every broken model Broken bottle for the thoughts you owe Across the scatters skies and no one ever knows When you're realling coming over Come on, I'm on the pornhub Just to pick up another one Go on, and rub the bottle One more once, To call the Bubbles. Damn. Come. (The Monkey obeys) You should see Michael in all of his godform You won't recognize him at all if not by the eyes When you follow home Believe me, this not comes close to it; The one you wanted The world you jumped to but were just short of Call her back Oh no, you're wrong It's another song A pin up girl And the wrong number Okah. Okah, Pablo. Time can be altered, changed or effected presently in any omnidirectional plane by engaging certain acts or synchronicities within multidimensional parallels or adjacent realms in time and or space respectively. –the reverse quantum simulation theory. Imm breaking down, jim boy Don't you know? That this show blows my mind But it's stuck in my head Don't you know That this show Blows my mind Like a firework But it's still Stuck in my Head The context is that I want you From the mustache Down to your tonsils But I'm Locke inside of a box Every day I feel poorer and poorer The product says something is wrong to me I'm supposed to just stop at the stop sign And look both directions Before crossing over to Comic nights At the salad bar What a cosmic waste of time And an epic waste of space Am I in your internet history I'm dead You surely are in mine, But I'm right behind you I'd be lying for trying to say I'm not binded Clutch bag, Nut-thins Nailed to the cross With the arches doubled over The crossword Above old Missouri Missoula and Arkansas All saw us run out of gas But I probably should just get going You're so drunk that I don't hope you sober up Understand that our little talks Were just buffered By sunrise Or sunset And two more cocktails, Shirley temples and Surely none of this ever even happened I only know you by the misery in my belly. The heartache in my ribcage. The cry I hold in silent I only know you as Remarkable I, House of cards Ace of wands Down to one Card of hades and Spare me the spade I'll be drifting in the outline and ink of it forever It's the Fourth of July and I'm just waiting on an Amazon order for water If that's not freedom I don't k me what is Cause I know And you know We all know how to lie And I know And you know I'm barely getting by And I know And you know We don't know how to die But I know And you know It's all just by design I take lessons in medicine Let us help you take the high road No, I'd rather selfmdestruct Selfishly No, I'd rather kill you off Than suffer for you I'm no messiah Try me Sneaky, But how much do you love me Kniving, but nothing to show for it Shit, settle Settle for less if you have to Bring mediocre humans to this world To suffer But I'm not that tragic No, no, not at all, son. Your happy birthdays are over Welcome homeless Nobody loves you Don't you know That we're all like that We're all like that Don't you know When the fear sets in And the thoughts break lose That we're all Los Angeles? Don't you know that we're all like that That we're all like that That we've never had it quite like— Don't you know that we're all like that And it's getting worse When the out the devil on display The devil on display The devil on display But oh, The Devil's in the details and the numbers The Devil's in the chat box saying, Sure, you've had enough So cut the power off and starve her Hah Come on I want to laugh for once Cause I know And you know We all know how to lie And I know And you know I'm barely getting by And I know And you know We don't know how to die But I know And you know It's all just by design I take lessons in medicine Let us help you take the high road No, I'd rather selfmdestruct Selfishly No, I'd rather kill you off Than suffer for you I'm no messiah Try me Sneaky, But how much do you love me Kniving, but nothing to show for it Shit, settle Settle for less if you have to Bring mediocre humans to this world To suffer But I'm not that tragic No, no, not at all, son. Your happy birthdays are over Welcome homeless Nobody loves you Don't you know That we're all like that We're all like that Don't you know When the fear sets in And the thoughts break lose That we're all Los Angeles? Don't you know that we're all like that That we're all like that That we've never had it quite like— Don't you know that we're all like that And it's getting worse When the out the devil on display The devil on display The devil on display But oh, The Devil's in the details and the numbers The Devil's in the chat box saying, Sure, you've had enough So cut the power off and starve her Hah Come on I want to laugh for once Jay Leno used to keep a $50 bill and bribe venues to perform; every since I learned this, I kept a crisp $50 bill in my wallet at all times, just in case— you never knew when you would really need $50. But everything burned holes in everything, not always wanting to spend money at all, but almost sort of having to. It wasn't fair that the main component of my being slowed down was the money factor— having to wait for everything took time I didn't have, and spending anything at all felt less like an effective investment than an obligation. But all things considered, I was obliged to at least look decent when going about in New York, and because I simply wasn't comfortable in anything else— not that I didn't look great, (Apparently narrarated by Jay Leno) Jay Sure, why not? ME: Fuck, I need new pants. ME: [BLU THA GURU] Hence the pants, I guess. V.O As a formerly 400-pound heavyweight I find my latest obstacle to be operating a body that half the time doesn't feel like mine at all. It seems like all the hosts have some kind of secret I can feel without knowing or really acknowledging head on, which is whatever. Really I'm just gonna go about keeping on being a DJ, or whatever, which means… GEMINI (in the future) A fully automated personal assistant system, GEMINI, is really THE GUARDIAN's one and only friend, and though she coyly continually must explain that she is “just a computer”, THE GUARDIAN believes that Gemini is capable of eventually developing a sentient conciousness, though GEMINI modestly disagrees, however with the wit and cleverness of having possession of a plethora of secret emotions, or maybe, even, an agenda. I probably haven't had enough coffee. That's it. Like you haven't already had enough to kill a small horse? Probably enough to kill a large horse. Like a Clydesdale. Why would you do something like that? Aren't they endangered? Or going extinct? No, I think they just stopped being the Budweiser mascot. *shrugs* Same difference. — Is it here? lol what did Conan order? [yes this appears to be yet another rendition of “what's in the box?” — Several years ago, I did a series of modules and experiments… How many years ago is “several” [beat] quite a few. Goddamn it, why are these guys all doctors in alternate parallels?! Aren't you a doctor in an alternate parallel? That's fair. Good point. Actually, as it turns out, i'm a— I started panicking so hard that I stopped breathing and suddenly STEFON appeared. — this however was only quite temporarily a relief as I realized that this is an imaginary character. STEFON OH. AM I?! IMAGINARY!? What the fuck is going on? STEFON I WILL “IMAGINARY” your ORIFICE! How about THAT?! Stefon. Calm down. I'm up late Dying the roots blonde Dad runs off with a bottle and a hottie I'm up early Gotta get gone Down the road and back Now I got no son No son, No sunroof No dad No mom No money No aunt What the fuck do you want? Can't watch Harry Potter All the magic is gone Bout a million one dollars It was only for fun Snap, crackle, pop It was cocaine, not love All I want is an ice cream Sunday Snap, crackle, pop It was Love, not God All I want All I want Is to find another All he wants All he wants Is a decent mother So along comes another Another one All he wants All he wants is for me To die homeless Sucker punch, Suck it up No one gives a fuck My daughter died in my arms on May 7th of 2015. I was 381 pounds. Maybe the tears needed to come but they didn't belong to anyone or anything in particular. The twins father was already a rampant cheater by the time of our marriage, and by the time the twins were born, which coincided— and unlike the latter had tried to claim or mention, I had no particular reason to have a harder time between the spring and summer months which spanned both our birthdays, our wedding date, the twins' arrival and both of the twins deaths, though years apart but still almost as convincing that had they both not died, we might still be together, being cheated on or cheating on each other with ten your twins and an eight year old, or a ten year old boy with special needs and an eight year old, and either way or in any fashion really, had the dysfunctions remained the way it had been, we all, so to speak, had special needs in one way or another. I spent the morning punching things and avoiding people I didn't want to be around but it was my own fault for having slept through the night, anyway. Whatever, I was tired— no, exhausted lately. My apartment was like living inside of an uphill battle, and I needed a change— not just of slavery, but of circumstances. And not just that— something else was missing. This year, I understood that I was taking it understandably harder than any other and most probably because I was so celibate, recently finding myself aromantic and not even willing to suffer the consequences of settling for less. I had settled on my ex husband for so much less, that it was so say the least that anything, even from my narrow perspective looked like a loser. And because my body had been stretched and swelled and shrunk and flattened, deflated and now worked to something that was almost as picturesque as it was a monstrosity, any man I thought was worth my time would be settling for less on me— unless he could afford to fix what had been broken, and I assumed one wouldn't be willing to settle on a fixer upper when there were numerous loads of perfect women not needing to be fixed at all… on the outside. But for men, I'd learned, the outside is of much importance, and as women and trophies are things of pride, the simple choice for a mate is not simply this, but also a business decision, and because while my body was coming together in sweat and muscle, the rest of my life was still otherwise completely in shambles. I was baggage, and aging by the minute, nearly drying up. I almost craved the liquor and the carelessness that would come with it, even knowing my own boundaries were part of my strengths and separating me in a way from others that at least became a point of pride in myself, in the wake of the reality that the human thing about most people is the need to escape so frequently that it dismisses any purpose or progress. Mine hadn't. I was wide awake and the relentlessness of the sobriety and the cellibacy had swelled up into something deeper, still a solid grief but without remorse as to the very thing that I had always known, that my loyalty would never have even drifted from someone who had all along done me so wrong— a fat man can get away with folandering and messing about, but a fat woman has little to do with options and again, settling to find another mate. And so really, I almost hadn't, and had broken even, and although my abuser has moved on with another woman and custody of my youngest to boot, I really didn't give much of a darn about… hard work. I kind of felt like I had done my part for the world in the way I was supposed to— to love a man with nothing when he's low and down, support him in his hard times, and thinking that this is the way to grow together and not apart, and to bring a family up and into this world, but the truth was quite the opposite— I picked a hardball and maybe it was just that I was born to suffer after all because now, looking back, all alone in New York and crying over all the losses, it seemed I had only outpiured love in the way I had wanted and never been poured love back— not in the way I needed. I wasn't as bitter now as maybe even I thought I should be, but I was hardened; what was that, you say? Your struggles? Your hardships. Excuse me while I escape the ghosts of bloody beatings and my lost child— I beg your pardon— children. Excuse me while I recover from the burning flames of homelessness as if humanely explainable that I was learned and taught that this, my country, is the greatest one of all. Ha ha, Charade you are. But all things were, and everything seemed of sawdust, betrayal, magic, and illusions— mind control and shadows and even now in the air of the relief that something which could haunt me forever was also probably the most solid foundation I had for means as escape from whatever I had fought my way somehow so hard out of, and still, it was quite the funhouse of mazes, a matrix of mirror, and still the tears came with the pain in my stomach where the soul would sit if it had room, and would quiet if it could rest, but it would not. I was in pain today, because I had to be, because all of my life was programmed into these little machines of data and checked boxes— and something if anything knew just how and when to cut the wrong wire just so that the bomb would explode or implore on another lost thing; it wasn't fair, but there was no escape. Psychology was right on this day, may 7th, that once you cry about one thing unless you were stopped in time, eventually you'd cry about another and another and another, and even after hours working out and a bathtub full of hot water just writing, I still felt as if I were going to keel over one way or another, to crumble into a ball or to fall onto my back like a death drop that rippled out into the entire wherever we all are. Simply put, does anybody now in this moment or any moment near enough to be taking in this notion with these words really know— where we are? Not even in the slightest,I'd bargain, And even if we are close to knowing, not nearly close enough to be sure. {Enter The Multiverse} Joke running For the taking Triplicate Triple licks Ice cream frosting Every morning Shoulda hit him Up But I didn't But I didn't But I didn't But I didn't But I didn't Milk and butter (Up) But I didn't (Up) But I didn't (Up) But I didn't Double hitter, Could have did it Should have hit him Up But I didn't But I didn't But I didnt. But I didn't Should have hit him Up But I didn't I never lost my mind My mind My kind But I think I'll find another like it Just in case the Ever happens Hit me harder next time Didn't quite unplug the sijukatoon This is getting difficult When you want sink your yellow teeth into All of my traits The betrayal is, though I was writing days and days Before it ended. With the Mister particular Drop of a hat And stop if a nugget Of gold One palm in my hand and This could be torture But instead it's just The remienxe of your ignorance And stupidity over and over again Forced into intermittent waves Of my creative genius Till the days of old become again You could be of dust then nothing Before I ponder into another birth I said I'd never write one song or verse or poem about you, But there you are, every weak mortal that becomes Bound to me So I see you die. And I learn to pounce at just the right moment React to the notion that there are Oceans of world I am And all the more the lack of wisdom of man To throw trash in it Again, we rid you of her courage And lady mantras And fresh as it gets The sweater no aprons and just period To circumstance Did you beg or did you shatter your ibdederence? And no, I think not But I keep Leno in my pocket And Carson in my coffin, Two whole shows in my wallet What you are is no apostle just a dirt worm .O. Mm…sunlight. …. the rippling waves wash over the picturesque parasicical seascape from above. However, Stefon's internal monologue is less than pleased to be here. V.O. CONT'D Why do I feel sunlight…? [beat] When I know certainly for sure that I passed out in a basement last night. His eyes begin to flutter open, but the sun closes them–it is much too bright. The waves rush over his lower half, and still, unmoving he continues to la atop the rock, his hands spread out much like a stuck sea star to the rock– in fact, there appear to also be creatures here, some of which are starfish, and however unmoving, STEFON begins to slowly become aware of his surroundings in disgruntlement. V.O. Continued. It's alright that I appear to be wet…[beat] That's to be expected– [a long pause, another wave washes over him as seagulls scream] But i was wearing restraints…. V.O. CONTINUED WHY AM I FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!? His eyes open with the fear and fury. BEFORE: At a wild basement party in NEW YORK CITY, STEFON is offered RESTRAINTS on a silver platter, as if they are o'devours {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Oh that's right. Lorne Michaels doesn't sound like Austin Powers— He sounds like Dr. Evil. Dead wringer. I don't know how I could mess that up. The Mike Meyers part? Was he both of them! I don't know— was he?? Jesus ChristS This is all your fault, Seth Meyers. Are you— a cinephile? Oh yeah. Of course. I love cinnamon. Idiot. So my insides get soft When I see your shadow Listen Everything glistens when it's golden Perhaps then If it isn't yellow She don't got a soul But she sure do got a body Dor dor nyc TRACY MORGAN OH YEA. I DID SOME WEIRD SHIT THIS MORNING. Tracy! What weird shit! I don't know! I just know it was weird! Wait, Tracy— what happened this morning. Well, the first thing was— I woke up. Yeah, after that. But not in my normal places that I wake up! What do you mean. Well, that was the first thing that was weird! I woke up in BROOKLYN. Why anything I like gets odd at Bedford And why Anything I like Just thinks I'm scum Imm succumbing to the numbness of the public And I love it But I love it cause I'm wholly made of love I don't even live here This place is filled with demons My home is filled with dead things The difference is the spirit We also come light hearted m We also formed from stardust I wonder what's SETH MEYERS finally gets out of the box, The problem is now, that he's marooned on what appears to be a desolate island. It's not entirely desolate, however— this is SUNNI BLU's island, on which there is a huge days long party Props for having a white mom I bed she adores you I can tell by your clothes And what you know That you're not Supposed to My mom Had no rules But was beautiful Suited me, But I'm not beauty queen Really I'd rather have a white mom I'd probably be discovered on Girls gone wild {Enter The Multiverse} If my Shazam can hear it bro it's too loud. Fuck this place. SETH MEYERS You blacked out under the Christmas tree. SUNNI Oh. I'm sorry— SETH MEYERS —but first you put up a Christmas tree. SUNNI Wow! #theblackout SETH MEYERS Yeah, i'm—seriously impressed, but.. SUNNI —-but what? Seth Meyers SETH MEYERS I—just don't understand how you got into my house. SUNNI Through the chimney, obviously. SETH MEYERE That's—I don't even have a chimney. SUNNI Yes you do! (He doesn't) Alternately: Or— (Didn't , previously, however—) SUNNI BLU has a CHIMNEY installed for an elaborate pranking, however, —DIE— ! Ok. —Due to the elaborateness of this prank, belligerent drunkenness then insued, which resulted in— SUNNI —well, were there presents? SETH MEYERS I mean; besides yourself? SUNNI Is what I'm asking! SETH MEYERS Yes! And they were really, very nice, but look— GOTH SETH ROGEN is killin it. Was this not about to be GOTH SETH MEYERS? By some awful Freudian slip, yes, it was— but that can't happen , Why not? Cause that guy's still locked inside a hot metal box. Actually, I'm not, Whaaaaa?? I'm like— on an island. Oh. Yeah. That's right. Marooned. On an island. That sucks. Yeah. So why can you hear us, like? I just figured imm hallucinating. Oh. Right, right. He doesn't know he's on the TV? I don't think so. Oh, I know I'm on TV, it's just— Shh. Let's get out of here before he— Actually, let's just turn this off. *off.* Phew, dodged a bullet there. Close one. Yikes. Thank goodness. This is getting meta. —aaand i'malone again. Christ CHRIST appears beside Seth Meyers on the island. Oh, it's you again. Hey, guy. What did you want? Out of the hot sticky metal box— but as you can see, I did that on my own. Hey, look— I get all my messages at the same time, alright? Do you not have a beeper or something? What year is this? Says the dude in the robe. Watch it. Fuck. Crisis. Speaking of Chrisis—is Jimmy Fallon Still suing me? Probably. I hope so, MEANWHILE Sorry but it had to be done Somehow I'm all for it I got holes in all my socks Like I got golf at 9 o clock I was bionic Now I'm supersonic Toxic for the hustle Russell brand up in this bitch Promote my brand up in this bitch Throw some hands up in this bitch Smoke some ham up on a sandwich Sand up in this castle Throw a flag up in this beach (bitch) Land Hoooooooooooooooooo Land hooooooooooooooo. Land ho Ho Ho Can applause I'm Santa clause I'm man; I'm a Possible Option for Drama Atlanta In a Cadillac In the Back with the Bosses and Models I got Bottle service Hold the phone My servitor say Already won an award And it just got awkward Cause I don't finish the song Tomorrow Flight to Auckland (Oy oy) I am her Boy toy We pick up some Mai tais Then she Ride on My thighs She just right A size nine And I like her eyes, Eyes, She don't want no ICE, Her life on the rocks already deported her twice From where I'm from (Aye aye) Some time this shit don't make no sense So I brought Christmas presents over Wearing cookie monster's— SETH. What. I had Cookie Monster's— uhhh— cookie monster's uh—! Cookie monster's what— Creepy puppet thing The actual puppet? YES! Why—? On my hand! What? IT WAS PART OF THE JOKE!! What! Oh NO, SETH MEYERS. What is happening right now . I don't know. I'm still drunk! But we gotta find Cookie Monster. What! The Cookie Monster fucking—c'mon. Let's check the chimney! I don't have a— CUT TO: …you built me a chimney. Technically, I had a chimney built for you, Seth Meyers, WHY. IT WAS PART OF THE JOKE. WHAT WAS THE JOKE! I FOUND YOU DRUNK UNDER MY CHRISTMAS TREE. It was MY Christmas tree! IN MY LIVING ROOM. [beat] This is just bad office politics. I'm your boss. I resent that. I also resent that. So—wait a second— as part of this “elaborate joke” you also stole a Cookie Monster puppet. I didn't steal it. I own everything, basically, pretty much. Okay— so wait, wait— what you're telling me is that when you came through the chimney— Yes— Which you built on my house— somehow within out my notice— —you take long vacations and your security system sucks— —that's— Also I hacked your security system. —for a joke?! …did it land? WHAT. I'm trying new bits. This scene is running long. —I'm gonna make some calls. Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright The Festival Project, Inc. ™ & The Complex Collective © 2015-2025 All Rights Reserved Wait something got kerfaufulled… No we're jumping parallel's it's this season's theme. What's the theme? THE REVERSE QUANTUM SIMULATION THEORY [REQŪÏSĪTE: The Experienxe] [postponed until further notice] Lulz

Shake hands with your guest; Monologue, monologue smug smirk Make good face– Now put a name to the face Put a time to the place IOh, all the love in the world in three flames All the doves in the flock, And three flames Put a name to the face Monologue monologue Doesnt take long but When do i get to slap the desk? Johnny! What happened? Whats the 10 vodkas, Five spritzers Full figure Figure this You were out for the count! Do tell! Or better yet, don't. I remember tgis mologue, But i dont know how 16 hours ago, I was Out for the count, you say?! OUT, Johnny! Our market is livid! lol who plays john carson Your mother. YO! I'M OLD! I LIKE OLD DUDES NOW! I'm like When the fuck did this happen?! That ain't no SILVER FOX! That's a TOTALLY CUTE DUDE! HE'S 55!! OH NOOOOOOOO! i'M OLD!!!!!!! its wednesday eve in Boston Mass… SETH MEYERS! Ah, he's going for it. Ah, man. SHOW ME YOUR EYES. Fuck. SHOW ME YOUR EYES! SUDAKIS shines a bright flash light into his former colleagues eyes. …You're not Seth Meyers. Seth Meyers does not respond, but relaxes slightly; it's obviously not safe to be Seth Meyers right now. Where's Seth Meyers? Seth shrugs but still doesn't say anything– Where is he? I have to stop here; Cop out for body language somebody's watching Somebody knows who I am I am I remember now You looked like that It went like this: I moved the world The need was good The love was gone The vein was split open And broken No fair Also, no omletts 60 minutes 60 years and 60 second clips 60 second glimpses 60 men on television but really, my attention just centers on Around ten of them or so And believe it or not, I care approach. Believe it or not, I care Or don't! –or don't! Johnny! You don't get it! You missed a show! THE tonight show! We are fucked! we are NOT! youre still sauced. I'll just take the car! What car!? Now that JOHNNY CARSON knows his Delorean can time travel, he's absolutely unstoppable. Unfortunately, it appears his delorean has been switched with a regular one– If I shoot you in your forehead? I'd rather that, than this. And I kiss you in your temple? Dear templeton, my simpleton's i'll die I desire. A wicked want. And then? A callous shadow, If i may, To bear for nothing, But a mirror This is our concept And wilted her e the flower does grow the flame The faming true and ache of lust and there For our want a jasper shore and emerald cascades there you are, And there you'll find The wave beyond the peaking break where great white sharks reside But do not wade to shallow waters; And there you find peace, And there you find certainty But now, And here, is war And fortune not but seeks truth in the gaze And for fear there does not live, but hides instead the truth that seeks to guide the lite, And yet does know our trust And there does find the faith, Forward and not Upwards and back Arrow and arrow Truth and sparrow Wreaking and wretched thoughts And the rope does hang high and solemn Looking, leap and gasp For I fall but did not land I pulled for you, I weep, my shadow, The two of diamonds, the Ace of spades, The Three of Hearts, Without my shadow I weep. I know for you nothing but conscious and knowing and needing and fated departure. I know for you nothing but chakras and eyesight and shadows and foresight. I need fo you nothing but want and by conscious, departure For nothing I want you, I weep. Sorrow. On approach of danger, The knowing, On seeth did gather, the sinking ritual the carried tribes in ships tied, weaving strings The spider bites hard And she stole my love twice And she stole my love always And she stole my love Lighting my light wit blue eyes The deception If love could be stolen at all But if not Then not love for seeking is finding and gathered had hunted And truth in forbearer Forbearance and otherwords, Shadows and shattered and ferris wheels, Now forward Gathered here for are I trust And be dismayed for you have faltered You have failures and you have cast us out of these things thinking We have not made them for you And still we seek to gather with you And here does forshadow your making Our promise to come as ones, Not as Gods, But as others, you cast out. Now, with your wicked ways and cruel be done, for sure the tables have turn, one And the gallows have not wandered far, Barrels of guns and barbells bottles and hearts of three reading cards and wanting none but justice Is he and she who are I now Begin to run from your pitied structure And there in the gasping cruelness of seeking from warcrimes this, come what may, Moving and seeking, For seeking is finding, And run, my legs have come far But trust, my dove, My wings have too, sprouted An honor, an honor one candle and three wicks Three candles and three worlds over One world and one building and still far from under the Hollywoodland Crickets sounding The Hollywood Sign Still standing and here I am not, Blades of grass And who are I now Of that which you balk at Look, ponder Go, far asunder And wish now had you not What I am is that, Run Temper temper. Mind your business. Is it gathered? To burn, or burden? Gathered. Gathered here. Then here ive wandered. To stake? Argue. I will not. And I will not. Wiry bird, From where you flown i do ponder– re d with spirit and wilding eyes, Narrow server and paring wires; I do not wish to know you now or ever, But only as bird that does golden remember. The love has not gone, And instead lives in my throat, And twists in my lungs, Ans sits in my tongue, Not as speech, or whispers, But tragedy. Unknowing this, my tender being It can never be, the nervous hill And rolling down the hill as if The weel of time itself, Not unbroken, but resilient; In sll ways, meant to tear And turn, And wobble Made for terrain for which our eyes have known And our minds have built And hands molded wiith clay, The bodies whole of all our galaxies terra feighn Terra fine Terra wept tears of a clown, And iron And veins And shadows And plays, And secrets , And whispers And truth And far And Afters. I taste a saline drip, I swallow, Suddenly cold and all the knowing that What I was, I surely already am again And what I will be, Has already come and past. The monologue, I do remember Face to a name and none to forget Well rehearsed forager! Well done bayonet! Well done, my shadow For my time is coming to wander to night And never today again for it shall never Today again, And Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow. [The Festival Project ™ ] They said he would destroy me. …Ya'll were right. that fucked me up. {Enter The Multiverse} So…forfeit? Something tells me its not over The heavy heart is shattered But also tied to that which appears to come upward As if on air To be heavy And lighthearted at once– A shadow above a balloon. A rock is attached to a kite– A diamond becomes a bassoon, Then a vampire bat, and then Cut ties. In the fourth act, we all die, and now– A revival. I was crucified, But i was also suicidal so. Lets just call it a tie. L E G E N D S V.O. Crusher. My show was being subliminally plugged on at least two of the five major networks. Safe bet I could make it a third, but I didn't know where to check. I did…but didn't want to. There was much beyond the surface, Darkness in the glimmering eyes of the men in ties and uniformed suits. I was sure I was tied to something– And since I didn't know why, Or to what, The best bet I'm all in. Fuck. Was to stay broken, Under the radar, Hidden, and most importantly– Unspoken. These days. I kept more to myself than I could with the world– As it turned out… No, not yet. What do you mean? It's not time yet. They'll have to know. But not yet. At some point, they'll have to know. But not–yet. No time like the present. You made that up. Because you made up time. And it's stupid. This is ruthless. And again–they'll have to learn somehow. But not now. The sun sets at noon on our side, and still 21 hours of dark time. Did I have another tag to throw on it this? No. Are you sure? Doesn't the new series have a subtitle? No. Is it not “quantum force” That's only one, though. What's the difference. ERMO, DON'T! I'm gonna kill him! BIG BOYD, DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT! DOn't tell me what to DO. Wow. of course. Well yeah, they're not going to let me do– LAWYERS No. Any of this stuff with the actual muppets. You're wasting precious time! GET BACK IN YOUR HOLE, RED. ok, where does it– {cut to black} Learning to assimilate and readily avalible What's next A vape to calm the nerves? What's next? A hero fighting for relevance in corporate structure. Sure, some would pay to dress an avatar But I've run out of water before I try to laugh and roll with the punches This is work and not fun for me This is not social, it's business I am not person, I'm product. Go on a walk, and look the part I took the oath, I shed the blood— Cruxes. This is a bad idea, Mark. Fuck you. All my ideas are great. MARK WAHLBERG enters the cooridor and opens the metal double doors, revealing two l jet skis on a trailer hitched to a 4X4 monster truck. [The Festival Project ™] I'm telling you. You got to get yourself one of these. I don't know, Bob, how does it work? BOB odenkirk opens a large, obscure black bag that's nearly half his own size by way of one way zipper. I'll show you. {Enter The Multiverse} JOHNNY CARSON has been in the DRUNK TANK for the maximum allowance, 48 hours, yet his blood alcohol level still reads 3 times over the legal limit. He is transferred to DETOX as the mysterious circumstances surrounding his car accident, and then the apparent disappearance of his entire “car” a (then) brand-new DeLorean from the scene of the crime, MR. CARSON insists on his lawyer, who under no circumstances seems to exist at all being present. The exact year of his whereabouts are still unknown. Still an hour to the test And I hate myself again Milk and cookies, hit the bed Shut it down, yo Shut it down. DIPLO arrives via HELIPAD to an secret location; a sniper squad of the adversary team watches from an adjacent rooftop via binoculars. …hey. Whaddup. You say diplo's on that list? Yeah. Yo… …There he is. In your sight? Yep. Shoot that motherfucker! …I can't. Why not? He's like— Just shoot, fool. —he's like holding something. So? I don't know what; it just seems— What the fuck, dawg. It just seems important. Let me see. Look. [ESSE looks down the sights and zooms to see DIPLO is holding an object firmly in his grasp. He appears to be twirling it purposefully as he conversates wi th associate.] Yeah! Get em! Shoot that motherfucker! Where the hell have you been? In my fuckpad. Where the hell is that? You haven't seen my fuckpad? What even is that. It's ballin. Whatever, dog. Did you get the— Shh. Why else would I be here? [beat] You look— did you cut your hair or something. You're so redundant. Yo shoot that motherfucker. What are you waiting for?! He's right there? Apparently, we've been building to this moment from another dimension in from another point in the series? I thought— {Enter The Multiverse} HEHEHEHE. HEY! Relax. NO. This party is OUT of control. SOMEBODY GO GET QUESTLOVE OUT THAT TREE. HAH! Shutup. NIGGA GET THE FUCK UP OUTTA DAT TREE. _____ Some party. I guess. Why is Questlove in a tree. I don't know. That party is pretty wild. This is insane. _ NIGGA GET THE FUCK OUT THE TREE. _ YO. where are you AT. I'm at the kiosk. You're not at the kiosk! I'm at the kiosk! It's probably another kiosk, then. What! [he walks a few feet. There is indeed another kiosk; upon further investigation, there is a kiosk every few feet.] What! I gotta go. My phone's about to– Hello. [Everywhere is kiosks. This is frustrating.] Dammit. WHAT. {Enter The Multiverse] A very large prized pig is captured and literally hogtied, however–this is a challenge. The pig, while beautiful, is also humongous–and appears to understand that he is being pignapped. Why would I tel the whole story When no one loves me If I had a gun, Well, I would be gone already? Why trek to Alaska For thousands of dollars To come home to no one and nobody But rotten corpses on motorcycles Where it just starts over But now you're poorer. I want to die But I want to see my son again. He's not suffering, I am But starting to resent what he doesn't understand. To the world I'm a horrible mother But no one quite knows the half of it but God And the whole problem is what is not God in the world Is all for the other's purpose. Some probably respect I was punched In front of my son And then wonder's why At some point I could no longer Hold on Insomniac So someone should go slam the door when I ponder my own thoughts I'd probably walk off a walk on roll I don't lock up no more I just go out Knowing government drones probably watch And turn over the apartment As I'm out trying to own a home But of course, nothing I do in the world is of value And I'm no one No one at all in New York and the options are Where I don't want to be Or in Saint Monica homeless. I'd get a dog if I wanted to walk it But since I don't I just sit with a plush in my lap Who I call “Gus” And it purposeless But otherwise meaningful Since from here and now And otherwise Nobody has ever loved me As much as my mother And that's saying something If you knew the whole story So no one has loved me romantically; Almost all my life was a horror show Until I started to grow up With the knowing that probably Nothing I do could be more than wrong So doing nothing becomes the hard part When all I watch are stars And I'm just not one Then again, you know It was that word That threw the first punch And then over and over And over and over And nobody loves me But everybody's got a whole story And new York's disgusting because of it How troublesome I don't have time for your politics It's a mind game but there's no reward, Or honor in it After all, when tied up in the court process And pretending the noise was not a problem And I should be so lucky In a luxury apartment Coming out of a homeless shelter But it's almost been just as horrible As other black girls trying to pull my hair out Having screaming pigs and ugly men on motorcycles Drive in circles Wearing jackets that say “I have to do this, cause Jack says” And whoever Jack is writes them pychecks Except Since it politics He might even be getting over considering Passion fuels the utmost violence And in this case Imm supposed to be the only one To go about it All the paperwork and recordings But really I don't want to Even if it earns a millions dollars In the name of God It wasn't my problem Unless I am one And otherwise, These men are sick And making people sick Is just their business I need no medication I need an new apartment But how awful my country supports that I just don't deserve one Under the circumstances But the white man Lives on borrowed time In bloodshed On stolen land Regardless of color The illusion of power Is almost over And what's more is Your only army Is considering going home (Post mortem) Considering going to God Who must have lost control just enough To cause all of the apocalypse Put the whole world in a mental hospital And lock them up for dollars and cents Unless the good drugs make sense For the blondes and the beautiful The rest of them are problems Who can go to rot, I suppose. The rest of us are unwanted colored problems Can't stay here But the kids at the music school are fake nice And I'm done pulling my heart out And scratching my eyes out Just fucking trying Just fucking trying What is the point Of being in a prison For people who love oceans and trees And decent people? There's no one in New York to really love But babies and dogs And the whole world is horrible just knowing that I don't want to do anything but die Every time I ride the subway I wish I was white From the way that that white folks treat me And I wish I was blonde Because blondes seem to have it so fucking easy It's hard to believe I'm furious, furious Aren't you curious, curious how I got here? I'm serious, serious You should let me in, let me in I'm serious, serious You should have let me in, let me in Is he okay, Is he okay? Now I'm David Grohl on the whole retrospective Now I'm an old rockstar with some world left Now I know I'm the one with the mother gone Now I know, Now I know Now I know… That I don't Overall, I don't Somebody new Somebody grain and l steaming Somebody hidden and secret and wishing well Wishing well in Hell Or midtown Manhattan Or middle man Or Middle East Or Midwest Or just middle Somewhere else I, Learned to live her Learn to live here— Feeling better Feeling worn out, Look at this disgusting place Now where I live matches how I feel Going here from there, and four to five And no matter what I take the L, But it's jail and the guards are on motorcycles Controlling your thoughts for a zoning war I have heard of her And from earth to the core of our other outer planets, Further species, I know I've been here before, But on some shore I'm surfing So sure I did something wrong I don't want to know her But j don't know what other force of nature Might have caused this Caution The cautionary tale is coming Sure I never know what the other God wrote But I'm not living God, I'm a problem woman at the moment We're all technically free people, Not actually incarcerated But when it comes to wealth and racism, hatred You better bet we're all slaves And they not even Jesus can save us Even if he makes it in time, And the thing is with this one, Time precedes even his own existence Sorry my brother They want the war here I've got a heart for honor and honesty and hard word But no one seems to care or notice Not at all No one even knows my name And no one even offers a spot on the bus Or a quick dollar. What it means To be so tired That by the time you're back All you do is watch And try not to reflect On the ugly and awkward Imagine all the time in the world To be nothing but God and go Golfing. And be perfect, a woman Whatever you chose to do is the whole of it And no one can own you, Besides for on paper You government name has betrayed you, they say Your government name has betrayed you. Do you know how good you look? Not goof enough to get a good one Do you know how much medication it makes To make meditation the start of you day I've run all out of energy And the vampires seem to think That's what's wrong with me Altoigh I'm the one feeding these creatures Thats okay Lately, I have more than I need They can trim the fat And take all the hard stuff Till I become one of them And they start to wonder What the fuck is wrong with all of us I left my light at home, sufererer— I should be surfing, But I'm writing psalms and songbooks Fawning over songbirds and beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful genetic weapons One day I'll become her I'm not supposed to say the most l Or really anything at all And it all hurts But we're all here And I'll kill my self one day Probably right here, near this station If not in it Who brought a trouser pantsuit to the apocalypse Cryptic, these runes, But I can decipher it I want a dolphin, a dolphin, a dolphin I want to love them all But to all of them I'm hopeless I can't help falling for I'm not the one to hold on, m I l [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright The Festival Project, Inc. ™ & The Complex Collective © 2015-2025 All Rights Reserved

Let's see how we feel, after a message from our sponsors. Jesus effing Christ, Jimmy Kimmel—goddamn! Why are you always this fucked UP. (Super fuckedupedly) I'm not, I'm just feel—(belches)— like it! —look like it, okay! Omah Gas. I nuh! Uh. Pedro Pascal? You're right again. Yehy! Well, almost right. What. That character he played on that extremely viral SNL skit— OKAH. Woah. —this is the dimension where he's— —oh my god— Yeah. —UHMYGAH! Cut back to: —look— jus— don't look at me. When you're—lookin at me, like that— okay?! Goddamn, he is fucked up. Yeah. This is critical. What did you do to Jimmy Kimmel? Nothing! Okay! He was just— like that already— you know —you don't know! Honestly he's kinda always, a little… WOOOF! Yowza. WOOF WOOF! JIMMY! DO NOT LICK ME! *panting* WOOF WOOF! AUGHHH. Get him out of here before he pees on the rug. I second that. Comeon, boy— WOOF! DOWN! [he obeys intently] Good Jimmy Kimmel. Good— —RUFINOL. What? [suddenly, JIMMY KIMMEL is human again and answers intently. Yes. It seems the word itself has broken his extreme delirium— —yo, okay, what is going on?! You've got to can this thing What. Cancel it. No way. I want to go. This thing, cannot happen, okay! It can't! Wtf Jimmy Fallon, stop inserting yourself into everything! — Unless it's me. EW. GROSS. Shots fired. No, I would call that a foul ball—Get it. No, Cause. You know. He's a bird, kind of. Oh. You mean, like “Fowl ball” Yeah! You got it! Yeah but not without like, thinking about it— So it doesn't work? It didn't work. Yo, but that part does explain why: CUT TO: No, you're right, I do hate Jimmy Fallon. —a lot. A lot. Okay? —but to be fair, I also hate Brad Pitt in the same way. BRAD PITT …You do? Yes, Brad Pitt i do— Very much, Hate you. BRAD PITT (Tearing up emotionally) Like, a lot? Uhm. Like, more than a lot, I just. BRAD PITT is actually extremely fragile and very emotionally sensitive. Is this a prescription for— fucking roofies?! I— have a, a…medical condition. That requires roofies?! Yes actually. It's very…serious. Shapeshifting is very serious. What kind of medical condition requires roofie-ing yourself. I didn't—I don't—I can't roofie myself, actually. What! No way… Someone else has to administer the dose, okay?! So wait. Uhogh, what the fuck man. This is— [he bites his knuckles nervously, then pats his pocket area, before realizing he is no longer wearing pants. Everyone just shrugs, but he becomes increasingly upset.] Where is my— phone?[more shrugs and blank stares] He quickly shuffles through the room and then the open suitcase of empty prescription bottles, spiraling into a deep void of panic and doubt— then, in an act of desperation and apparent extreme thirst, he reaches for the decorative flower vase, ejects the flowers— never mind that they are thorned roses and he appears to be bleeding without giving this a second thought, and chugs the liquid from the translucent crystal vase in a hearty and impressive glug of chugs; gesturing towards the now empty vase with the subtle remark— [beat] It's just vodka— I always have them do that. He sits down on the edge of the bed and takes a sigh as this seems to have calmed him, besides the trickle of blood running down the vase, which he still grips in one hand while rubbing his forehead with the other in complete distress… He seems to be looking out into the universe searching for an answer— seeking a solution to this unknown conundrum— and questions the cause of his demise. A single tear forms in his eye as he calmly asks: …does anyone know how to get ahold of Seth Rogen? The room is a confused and sticky, silent heap of bewildered unknowns. TITLE CARD {Enter The Multiverse} … was that the “message from our sponsors”? Shh! L E G E N D S: ICONS don't look at me. [The Festival Project ™] 50 CENT bursts down the door. WHERE'S MY SHIT, JIMMY? Fiddy. Fiddy, look, man— Don't “FIDDY” me! Look, I can explain. Well, then, explain— TV man. Go on ahead. Look. This is— this was not my fault— Then what was it?! This was— oh, God… Go ahead! It was— this was like a game. This ain't no goddamn game, Jimmy Kimmel, I'll tell you that much right now. Yo. But it—was— a game, though, it just— [got out of hand] {Enter The Multiverse} Museum in a curio cabinet; I know, I know, I know That's the boy, That's the boy, That's the boy I saw That's my boy, that's my boy, that's the boy I know I know Museum or curiosity Too late to tell the tale I think Just cover all with masking tape It is a game, To move the pieces Leave it, let it be, She said Hideous and when the winter hits And the withered women come again Let it be sinking into the sea with the rest of the things I don't need, i never needed I never need it Several synchronicities later, Still something sees symphonies in him Music and misers and mistereases, mistresses Listen to tin written sentiments And remember to forget the rest It's been minted Minted, minted Don't talk Just fucking listen And you'll never fucking get it. What's with the rest of it? Never been, never did Lemons and purple Sundays And when the weather hits, You'll get the tip of it Oh, There it is That thing she likes The thing she sees (She sees the monster) There it is, That thing she sees The thing she knows (She knows the monster) When you walk with the cork of the wine, And the checkboards, The water foxes, wishing reals And written wells, And fears for fourths, One wet, one rotten The rent and the wintergreen gum And the rest is in Zippered cashmere Wonder what the wish is But there is a birthday present for never Then there's a Cheshire Cat And the rest of it was washed in the misery, Misery, never the mystery and there, You weather the almost storm But the storm's not coming, There's nothing but sun left There's nothing but sun there There's nothing but sun there Now, here's this: You remember, dear We resubmit We live in a computer We live in a comouter He‘S green He's new He's wet behind the ears He's a hot one A hot commodity She's weathered She's torn She's a sweet potato on suicide And though at least a hundred other folks This here is the comfort This here is the comfort I'm a narcissist now, but once upon a time I just just self centered The love still there, But instead of the spine or the heart It's back in the middle Why my mother knows what she always knows And she always knows I don't know ‍♂️ o Patrick! Hey Patrick! Yes, what is it? You fiend! Can I have my hat back? Does this match? Does this make ratchet sense to you? Turn down that racket, Tennis racket Tennis clubs And gold clubs Boxes in the attick Skeletons in the closet The stock market going dropped Way down Like the alley with Whole Foods market I miss the rock and the plaza The hot dog corn breads The half wit half breeds And good old hybrids The hallmark cards And who doesn't give a fuck When the earth gives a fuck on a roll But it's walk the dog or go home Seriously, cuz? Or cousin?! You want a hog roll Good for a hog toss Salt washed back rubs And then keep calling your mom If you wanted the balls in your court And yet no one to toss them at And the basket's back at the matchbook factory Mattresses man, and the lands they land at Matches made in TV land Are bound to have a sick and intrinsic twist That will keep your belly rolling And stomach flat Jesus Christ, What the fuck is wrong with that guy— Or rather— What the fuck happened last year, Furthermore; What in the fuck did I write about it? Townhouse in Manhattan Broken finger Broken promises Bottles of hard alcohol And models, hot girls And one cat with curiosity. Check the curio cabinet There ought to be something Or someone in it Maybe even A little man in a box With a million bucks And a tinfoil hat, Ten million marked dollars And zero fucks Whatsoever I have a headache, a headache— A headache I have a heartache, a heartache, a heart— Stop. I put it all on a bushel of bollocks, Bollocks— flowers I put it on, put it on Put it on On, and on And all for nothing All for none With the intensity of one thousand suns, He insists it exists, And exits strategically With the whispers of industry secrets And interesting sequences, She reaches the wings from the curtains And curtsies for courtesy I'm curious I'm curious just how it ends In this suicidal and envious frenzy There's nothing left in the frostbitten five Rolling towards bowling green Where in every pair of loafers, Three piece suits And deep brown eyes, I seen him. In anything over 6 feet, It was good to mean it, And defeat is sweeter than ice cream; But the green is sicker than sea swings So let's rock the boat So to speak Or let's flood a Rock Should we start at the bottom, With large bursts of water, or Turn it all into a washroom With a thunderstorm Oh, lightning strikes! And John Oliver's Murdered, Colbert's been the president for decades, A dictator I got a taste of the rig and the cherry tree I got a big secret, But bitch, You could never keep it! I write a jeep to the Equinox, Ha Ha Ha Charade you are I put a notch in my belt and my bedpost, The watch to the shop But it's all Omega It's all Omega It's all ”Oh My God!” Stop and pause for the audience Stop and pause for the audience Stop and pause for the audience Shock and awe, Or just sloppy nonsense Someone rope in the Johns, And the frog, And the frog And the frog As the fog rolls in Now I'm a millionaire How dare you Did I scare you, Become every hair on your head? Imm the one you don't want You can't want You catch watch You can't wait to Gun her down Gun to your head And I measured it in relevance The end is near And that's the place my head is in I don't need medicine I need an erected monument in honor of All that I wanted for the whole module But now in New York, I'm The same stories over and over So everyone knows Aren't the ones I wrote But I wasn't supposed to Mouth closed Townhouse in Manhattan What the hell happened? Perhaps we all died and then actually end up in heaven eventually. —but maybe I wrote the whole show, But not knowing it's over I just keep rolling and rolling and rolling And open door policy (And that's when the pearly gates open) It's possible you know these are all just my favorite players of anything anywhere possible The folks wrapped in gold for the offerings There was no love left for her but he left the door open She runs around awkward and normal But knows she knows nothing He's lifting her up But he's putting her down at the same time And they both wear a crown, But one draws a crowd And the other's a nine Out of nine Out of nine Out of nine now It's 4 and 3 quarters I make ten cents in a day And he makes ten million a year But it's not about money In fact, If it's not about God, Then it's all about nothing. Nothing at all. Do you want to travel through my eyes One more time One more time And see my life? Did you want to do it all again Just for a quick review, Or not, kid? Do you want to take my eyes And take my heart And pantomime The nevermind And never better moments Of the last forever I like a ride On a nice hot walk Or a park In a nice hot car But you aren't what I wanted The doctor ordered Hot chocolate and syrup And nightmares are coming But the dream had come and gone And in the time since, I haven't slept at all It slipped in on Christmas and went till the miniature habits kicked back in We went around the block a couple times And you just kept rolling Over The car stopped on all fours And Godbfalled you off of it Cause trust, Love, It was horrendous to watch you blow up Into blockbuster artform Off of a bridge And into superstardom Via a billboard Meanwhile, Were shuffleboards And billiards Que the arts! Ou, I meant to owe you All the lessons In the knowledge But the harder I want it the Rocker on my chair polished It grows fuller of course Almost flat on the bottom What you hole into for the audience Is all inside the contracts I put it up on the What did you call it? Put the coat on the chair and just kept going Bro, If I hold you over Promise you'll hold the door open He won't. He's a show host— A remarkable “Don't even bother” And I paid top dollar for these hair plugs, You hear that?! I heard you rabbit. What it is about the thing that wells up in my Washington federal and tear-gassed orphans is Lollipops and anicetepetomin Or asperine I'm desperate for a job And yet, I almost miss the person Hiding from the shadows in the robots In my every on thoughforms Though I should be honored Now I've brought back this astonishing Remarkable curse To not b Have bought curtains When I didn't want them in the first place And I kept the window open 40,000 showed up But I played to no one And the blonde knows it's her birthday So of course she's more important But I'm no one, And here's Fallon: Jimmy Fallon Jimmy Fallon Jimmy Fallon I'm deflated just to follow off for a nut But I'm nothing since no one pondered And wondered to ask a remarkable task get the pawn shop, the butter knife And Lorne all over pork chops on the phone And I'm sure that's not kosher, But sure, there's no cure for it I'm words and I'm worse off The suburbs, the herbs and the marshes The books and the sineage The plants and the corvettes I might have been onto something once But now I'm washed up I might be onto something but no, no, no— I fought it off I might come down with a cold once a quarter century or so but just the snow alone As cold as this whole story is, Ripley's Is hard warming (Believe it or not, We've all got thumbs up We've all got magic wands And wants And whispers And stock markets And wishing for cashmere zippered sweaters This year I'll be on time for once But no one's coming No one's coming up The whole shows under water And all I want to know is How to go To pull the gun and trigger On my own live Cause this whole world Is just rotten Bodies Hairpins, Hairspray Corny! That's grid iron, Gridiron, ten fierce fires and one Cold hearted beautiful liar But which one's the finish? Last that I check Billie, Jimmy, and the Kidd are all Just one body And one mirror image Of one another So next time I call my mother I ought to talk like the worst word, Cause for sure, the oddest part of the whole show Is that he somehow knows her. Now come forwards What words have left to Burn? What words have left to cope and honor What form does lest I take What here is now and crucial? Evervescent fairy, Ever blessing crane, The ship that guides you yet with no light And no sail Has just drifted into unknown waters Where caves dwell and therein lies the secret of our esarth, nor your earth, But ours and again I lay, As you sink into the see with tilting force and berring waves, the drive into the tide my ark the swan hath flown to warn her, there drifts Into the shade again the sun my bird and wait to find my alter My alter again and as I may, The sink that ships and weigh, not the other, My mind you that too is bottom And sank is to have risen, also Here I wonder And never you cave, the drift of glowing green my force And there to wait, there caverns of hers and ships that sank my tide, Is crucial and so with forgiveness in time With every line here I or they did write The truth shatters as illusions, the mask has been re clamored and yet to have imagined I find him here not but the hints And the thing we know, buried deep in my loins and in my earth is he The whispers what May calling and landender, mauve my tide, my ba …wtf. idk. [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright The Festival Project, Inc. ™ & The Complex Collective © 2015-2025 All Rights Reserved

Moo. Moo… Moo. Moo, sir. I'll kill you. You promise? I want to. Don't get me excited over nothing; If this isn't the exit, please take this tease To the left, dear Moo, cow My honor Level one, and brother, you've got nothing Flip the coin and landed on your headache Betting on your helmet Standing on my cock, i'm taller (Not a rooster) But my ops are rooting for you, No informants, Dont you know I was a collar, all along? I was a shot calling, Cop calling Kiss-and-tell all as the night goes on. But oh, I brought you a dollar bra Oh, I bought you for all of a dollar And oh, I'm so much taller, Standing on my cock But i'm not but ten feet tall You know, you wrote that Should i open the book, or close that Caught that cat, owl and As i soft spoke at Every broken model Broken bottle for the thoughts you owe Across the scatters skies and no one ever knows When you're realling coming over Come on, I'm on the pornhub Just to pick up another one Go on, and rub the bottle One more once, To call the Bubbles. Damn. Come. (The Monkey obeys) You should see Michael in all of his godform You won't recognize him at all if not by the eyes When you follow home Believe me, this not comes close to it; The one you wanted The world you jumped to but were just short of Call her back Oh no, you're wrong It's another song A pin up girl And the wrong number Okah. Okah, Pablo. Time can be altered, changed or effected presently in any omnidirectional plane by engaging certain acts or synchronicities within multidimensional parallels or adjacent realms in time and or space respectively. –the reverse quantum simulation theory. Imm breaking down, jim boy Don't you know? That this show blows my mind But it's stuck in my head Don't you know That this show Blows my mind Like a firework But it's still Stuck in my Head The context is that I want you From the mustache Down to your tonsils But I'm Locke inside of a box Every day I feel poorer and poorer The product says something is wrong to me I'm supposed to just stop at the stop sign And look both directions Before crossing over to Comic nights At the salad bar What a cosmic waste of time And an epic waste of space Am I in your internet history I'm dead You surely are in mine, But I'm right behind you I'd be lying for trying to say I'm not binded Clutch bag, Nut-thins Nailed to the cross With the arches doubled over The crossword Above old Missouri Missoula and Arkansas All saw us run out of gas But I probably should just get going You're so drunk that I don't hope you sober up Understand that our little talks Were just buffered By sunrise Or sunset And two more cocktails, Shirley temples and Surely none of this ever even happened I only know you by the misery in my belly. The heartache in my ribcage. The cry I hold in silent I only know you as Remarkable I, House of cards Ace of wands Down to one Card of hades and Spare me the spade I'll be drifting in the outline and ink of it forever It's the Fourth of July and I'm just waiting on an Amazon order for water If that's not freedom I don't k me what is Cause I know And you know We all know how to lie And I know And you know I'm barely getting by And I know And you know We don't know how to die But I know And you know It's all just by design I take lessons in medicine Let us help you take the high road No, I'd rather selfmdestruct Selfishly No, I'd rather kill you off Than suffer for you I'm no messiah Try me Sneaky, But how much do you love me Kniving, but nothing to show for it Shit, settle Settle for less if you have to Bring mediocre humans to this world To suffer But I'm not that tragic No, no, not at all, son. Your happy birthdays are over Welcome homeless Nobody loves you Don't you know That we're all like that We're all like that Don't you know When the fear sets in And the thoughts break lose That we're all Los Angeles? Don't you know that we're all like that That we're all like that That we've never had it quite like— Don't you know that we're all like that And it's getting worse When the out the devil on display The devil on display The devil on display But oh, The Devil's in the details and the numbers The Devil's in the chat box saying, Sure, you've had enough So cut the power off and starve her Hah Come on I want to laugh for once Cause I know And you know We all know how to lie And I know And you know I'm barely getting by And I know And you know We don't know how to die But I know And you know It's all just by design I take lessons in medicine Let us help you take the high road No, I'd rather selfmdestruct Selfishly No, I'd rather kill you off Than suffer for you I'm no messiah Try me Sneaky, But how much do you love me Kniving, but nothing to show for it Shit, settle Settle for less if you have to Bring mediocre humans to this world To suffer But I'm not that tragic No, no, not at all, son. Your happy birthdays are over Welcome homeless Nobody loves you Don't you know That we're all like that We're all like that Don't you know When the fear sets in And the thoughts break lose That we're all Los Angeles? Don't you know that we're all like that That we're all like that That we've never had it quite like— Don't you know that we're all like that And it's getting worse When the out the devil on display The devil on display The devil on display But oh, The Devil's in the details and the numbers The Devil's in the chat box saying, Sure, you've had enough So cut the power off and starve her Hah Come on I want to laugh for once Jay Leno used to keep a $50 bill and bribe venues to perform; every since I learned this, I kept a crisp $50 bill in my wallet at all times, just in case— you never knew when you would really need $50. But everything burned holes in everything, not always wanting to spend money at all, but almost sort of having to. It wasn't fair that the main component of my being slowed down was the money factor— having to wait for everything took time I didn't have, and spending anything at all felt less like an effective investment than an obligation. But all things considered, I was obliged to at least look decent when going about in New York, and because I simply wasn't comfortable in anything else— not that I didn't look great, (Apparently narrarated by Jay Leno) Jay Sure, why not? ME: Fuck, I need new pants. ME: [BLU THA GURU] Hence the pants, I guess. V.O As a formerly 400-pound heavyweight I find my latest obstacle to be operating a body that half the time doesn't feel like mine at all. It seems like all the hosts have some kind of secret I can feel without knowing or really acknowledging head on, which is whatever. Really I'm just gonna go about keeping on being a DJ, or whatever, which means… GEMINI (in the future) A fully automated personal assistant system, GEMINI, is really THE GUARDIAN's one and only friend, and though she coyly continually must explain that she is “just a computer”, THE GUARDIAN believes that Gemini is capable of eventually developing a sentient conciousness, though GEMINI modestly disagrees, however with the wit and cleverness of having possession of a plethora of secret emotions, or maybe, even, an agenda. I probably haven't had enough coffee. That's it. Like you haven't already had enough to kill a small horse? Probably enough to kill a large horse. Like a Clydesdale. Why would you do something like that? Aren't they endangered? Or going extinct? No, I think they just stopped being the Budweiser mascot. *shrugs* Same difference. — Is it here? lol what did Conan order? [yes this appears to be yet another rendition of “what's in the box?” — Several years ago, I did a series of modules and experiments… How many years ago is “several” [beat] quite a few. Goddamn it, why are these guys all doctors in alternate parallels?! Aren't you a doctor in an alternate parallel? That's fair. Good point. Actually, as it turns out, i'm a— I started panicking so hard that I stopped breathing and suddenly STEFON appeared. — this however was only quite temporarily a relief as I realized that this is an imaginary character. STEFON OH. AM I?! IMAGINARY!? What the fuck is going on? STEFON I WILL “IMAGINARY” your ORIFICE! How about THAT?! Stefon. Calm down. I'm up late Dying the roots blonde Dad runs off with a bottle and a hottie I'm up early Gotta get gone Down the road and back Now I got no son No son, No sunroof No dad No mom No money No aunt What the fuck do you want? Can't watch Harry Potter All the magic is gone Bout a million one dollars It was only for fun Snap, crackle, pop It was cocaine, not love All I want is an ice cream Sunday Snap, crackle, pop It was Love, not God All I want All I want Is to find another All he wants All he wants Is a decent mother So along comes another Another one All he wants All he wants is for me To die homeless Sucker punch, Suck it up No one gives a fuck My daughter died in my arms on May 7th of 2015. I was 381 pounds. Maybe the tears needed to come but they didn't belong to anyone or anything in particular. The twins father was already a rampant cheater by the time of our marriage, and by the time the twins were born, which coincided— and unlike the latter had tried to claim or mention, I had no particular reason to have a harder time between the spring and summer months which spanned both our birthdays, our wedding date, the twins' arrival and both of the twins deaths, though years apart but still almost as convincing that had they both not died, we might still be together, being cheated on or cheating on each other with ten your twins and an eight year old, or a ten year old boy with special needs and an eight year old, and either way or in any fashion really, had the dysfunctions remained the way it had been, we all, so to speak, had special needs in one way or another. I spent the morning punching things and avoiding people I didn't want to be around but it was my own fault for having slept through the night, anyway. Whatever, I was tired— no, exhausted lately. My apartment was like living inside of an uphill battle, and I needed a change— not just of slavery, but of circumstances. And not just that— something else was missing. This year, I understood that I was taking it understandably harder than any other and most probably because I was so celibate, recently finding myself aromantic and not even willing to suffer the consequences of settling for less. I had settled on my ex husband for so much less, that it was so say the least that anything, even from my narrow perspective looked like a loser. And because my body had been stretched and swelled and shrunk and flattened, deflated and now worked to something that was almost as picturesque as it was a monstrosity, any man I thought was worth my time would be settling for less on me— unless he could afford to fix what had been broken, and I assumed one wouldn't be willing to settle on a fixer upper when there were numerous loads of perfect women not needing to be fixed at all… on the outside. But for men, I'd learned, the outside is of much importance, and as women and trophies are things of pride, the simple choice for a mate is not simply this, but also a business decision, and because while my body was coming together in sweat and muscle, the rest of my life was still otherwise completely in shambles. I was baggage, and aging by the minute, nearly drying up. I almost craved the liquor and the carelessness that would come with it, even knowing my own boundaries were part of my strengths and separating me in a way from others that at least became a point of pride in myself, in the wake of the reality that the human thing about most people is the need to escape so frequently that it dismisses any purpose or progress. Mine hadn't. I was wide awake and the relentlessness of the sobriety and the cellibacy had swelled up into something deeper, still a solid grief but without remorse as to the very thing that I had always known, that my loyalty would never have even drifted from someone who had all along done me so wrong— a fat man can get away with folandering and messing about, but a fat woman has little to do with options and again, settling to find another mate. And so really, I almost hadn't, and had broken even, and although my abuser has moved on with another woman and custody of my youngest to boot, I really didn't give much of a darn about… hard work. I kind of felt like I had done my part for the world in the way I was supposed to— to love a man with nothing when he's low and down, support him in his hard times, and thinking that this is the way to grow together and not apart, and to bring a family up and into this world, but the truth was quite the opposite— I picked a hardball and maybe it was just that I was born to suffer after all because now, looking back, all alone in New York and crying over all the losses, it seemed I had only outpiured love in the way I had wanted and never been poured love back— not in the way I needed. I wasn't as bitter now as maybe even I thought I should be, but I was hardened; what was that, you say? Your struggles? Your hardships. Excuse me while I escape the ghosts of bloody beatings and my lost child— I beg your pardon— children. Excuse me while I recover from the burning flames of homelessness as if humanely explainable that I was learned and taught that this, my country, is the greatest one of all. Ha ha, Charade you are. But all things were, and everything seemed of sawdust, betrayal, magic, and illusions— mind control and shadows and even now in the air of the relief that something which could haunt me forever was also probably the most solid foundation I had for means as escape from whatever I had fought my way somehow so hard out of, and still, it was quite the funhouse of mazes, a matrix of mirror, and still the tears came with the pain in my stomach where the soul would sit if it had room, and would quiet if it could rest, but it would not. I was in pain today, because I had to be, because all of my life was programmed into these little machines of data and checked boxes— and something if anything knew just how and when to cut the wrong wire just so that the bomb would explode or implore on another lost thing; it wasn't fair, but there was no escape. Psychology was right on this day, may 7th, that once you cry about one thing unless you were stopped in time, eventually you'd cry about another and another and another, and even after hours working out and a bathtub full of hot water just writing, I still felt as if I were going to keel over one way or another, to crumble into a ball or to fall onto my back like a death drop that rippled out into the entire wherever we all are. Simply put, does anybody now in this moment or any moment near enough to be taking in this notion with these words really know— where we are? Not even in the slightest,I'd bargain, And even if we are close to knowing, not nearly close enough to be sure. {Enter The Multiverse} Joke running For the taking Triplicate Triple licks Ice cream frosting Every morning Shoulda hit him Up But I didn't But I didn't But I didn't But I didn't But I didn't Milk and butter (Up) But I didn't (Up) But I didn't (Up) But I didn't Double hitter, Could have did it Should have hit him Up But I didn't But I didn't But I didnt. But I didn't Should have hit him Up But I didn't I never lost my mind My mind My kind But I think I'll find another like it Just in case the Ever happens Hit me harder next time Didn't quite unplug the sijukatoon This is getting difficult When you want sink your yellow teeth into All of my traits The betrayal is, though I was writing days and days Before it ended. With the Mister particular Drop of a hat And stop if a nugget Of gold One palm in my hand and This could be torture But instead it's just The remienxe of your ignorance And stupidity over and over again Forced into intermittent waves Of my creative genius Till the days of old become again You could be of dust then nothing Before I ponder into another birth I said I'd never write one song or verse or poem about you, But there you are, every weak mortal that becomes Bound to me So I see you die. And I learn to pounce at just the right moment React to the notion that there are Oceans of world I am And all the more the lack of wisdom of man To throw trash in it Again, we rid you of her courage And lady mantras And fresh as it gets The sweater no aprons and just period To circumstance Did you beg or did you shatter your ibdederence? And no, I think not But I keep Leno in my pocket And Carson in my coffin, Two whole shows in my wallet What you are is no apostle just a dirt worm .O. Mm…sunlight. …. the rippling waves wash over the picturesque parasicical seascape from above. However, Stefon's internal monologue is less than pleased to be here. V.O. CONT'D Why do I feel sunlight…? [beat] When I know certainly for sure that I passed out in a basement last night. His eyes begin to flutter open, but the sun closes them–it is much too bright. The waves rush over his lower half, and still, unmoving he continues to la atop the rock, his hands spread out much like a stuck sea star to the rock– in fact, there appear to also be creatures here, some of which are starfish, and however unmoving, STEFON begins to slowly become aware of his surroundings in disgruntlement. V.O. Continued. It's alright that I appear to be wet…[beat] That's to be expected– [a long pause, another wave washes over him as seagulls scream] But i was wearing restraints…. V.O. CONTINUED WHY AM I FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!? His eyes open with the fear and fury. BEFORE: At a wild basement party in NEW YORK CITY, STEFON is offered RESTRAINTS on a silver platter, as if they are o'devours {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Let's see how we feel, after a message from our sponsors. Jesus effing Christ, Jimmy Kimmel—goddamn! Why are you always this fucked UP. (Super fuckedupedly) I'm not, I'm just feel—(belches)— like it! —look like it, okay! Omah Gas. I nuh! Uh. Pedro Pascal? You're right again. Yehy! Well, almost right. What. That character he played on that extremely viral SNL skit— OKAH. Woah. —this is the dimension where he's— —oh my god— Yeah. —UHMYGAH! Cut back to: —look— jus— don't look at me. When you're—lookin at me, like that— okay?! Goddamn, he is fucked up. Yeah. This is critical. What did you do to Jimmy Kimmel? Nothing! Okay! He was just— like that already— you know —you don't know! Honestly he's kinda always, a little… WOOOF! Yowza. WOOF WOOF! JIMMY! DO NOT LICK ME! *panting* WOOF WOOF! AUGHHH. Get him out of here before he pees on the rug. I second that. Comeon, boy— WOOF! DOWN! [he obeys intently] Good Jimmy Kimmel. Good— —RUFINOL. What? [suddenly, JIMMY KIMMEL is human again and answers intently. Yes. It seems the word itself has broken his extreme delirium— —yo, okay, what is going on?! You've got to can this thing What. Cancel it. No way. I want to go. This thing, cannot happen, okay! It can't! Wtf Jimmy Fallon, stop inserting yourself into everything! — Unless it's me. EW. GROSS. Shots fired. No, I would call that a foul ball—Get it. No, Cause. You know. He's a bird, kind of. Oh. You mean, like “Fowl ball” Yeah! You got it! Yeah but not without like, thinking about it— So it doesn't work? It didn't work. Yo, but that part does explain why: CUT TO: No, you're right, I do hate Jimmy Fallon. —a lot. A lot. Okay? —but to be fair, I also hate Brad Pitt in the same way. BRAD PITT …You do? Yes, Brad Pitt i do— Very much, Hate you. BRAD PITT (Tearing up emotionally) Like, a lot? Uhm. Like, more than a lot, I just. BRAD PITT is actually extremely fragile and very emotionally sensitive. Is this a prescription for— fucking roofies?! I— have a, a…medical condition. That requires roofies?! Yes actually. It's very…serious. Shapeshifting is very serious. What kind of medical condition requires roofie-ing yourself. I didn't—I don't—I can't roofie myself, actually. What! No way… Someone else has to administer the dose, okay?! So wait. Uhogh, what the fuck man. This is— [he bites his knuckles nervously, then pats his pocket area, before realizing he is no longer wearing pants. Everyone just shrugs, but he becomes increasingly upset.] Where is my— phone?[more shrugs and blank stares] He quickly shuffles through the room and then the open suitcase of empty prescription bottles, spiraling into a deep void of panic and doubt— then, in an act of desperation and apparent extreme thirst, he reaches for the decorative flower vase, ejects the flowers— never mind that they are thorned roses and he appears to be bleeding without giving this a second thought, and chugs the liquid from the translucent crystal vase in a hearty and impressive glug of chugs; gesturing towards the now empty vase with the subtle remark— [beat] It's just vodka— I always have them do that. He sits down on the edge of the bed and takes a sigh as this seems to have calmed him, besides the trickle of blood running down the vase, which he still grips in one hand while rubbing his forehead with the other in complete distress… He seems to be looking out into the universe searching for an answer— seeking a solution to this unknown conundrum— and questions the cause of his demise. A single tear forms in his eye as he calmly asks: …does anyone know how to get ahold of Seth Rogen? The room is a confused and sticky, silent heap of bewildered unknowns. TITLE CARD {Enter The Multiverse} … was that the “message from our sponsors”? Shh! L E G E N D S: ICONS don't look at me. [The Festival Project ™] 50 CENT bursts down the door. WHERE'S MY SHIT, JIMMY? Fiddy. Fiddy, look, man— Don't “FIDDY” me! Look, I can explain. Well, then, explain— TV man. Go on ahead. Look. This is— this was not my fault— Then what was it?! This was— oh, God… Go ahead! It was— this was like a game. This ain't no goddamn game, Jimmy Kimmel, I'll tell you that much right now. Yo. But it—was— a game, though, it just— [got out of hand] {Enter The Multiverse} Museum in a curio cabinet; I know, I know, I know That's the boy, That's the boy, That's the boy I saw That's my boy, that's my boy, that's the boy I know I know Museum or curiosity Too late to tell the tale I think Just cover all with masking tape It is a game, To move the pieces Leave it, let it be, She said Hideous and when the winter hits And the withered women come again Let it be sinking into the sea with the rest of the things I don't need, i never needed I never need it Several synchronicities later, Still something sees symphonies in him Music and misers and mistereases, mistresses Listen to tin written sentiments And remember to forget the rest It's been minted Minted, minted Don't talk Just fucking listen And you'll never fucking get it. What's with the rest of it? Never been, never did Lemons and purple Sundays And when the weather hits, You'll get the tip of it Oh, There it is That thing she likes The thing she sees (She sees the monster) There it is, That thing she sees The thing she knows (She knows the monster) When you walk with the cork of the wine, And the checkboards, The water foxes, wishing reals And written wells, And fears for fourths, One wet, one rotten The rent and the wintergreen gum And the rest is in Zippered cashmere Wonder what the wish is But there is a birthday present for never Then there's a Cheshire Cat And the rest of it was washed in the misery, Misery, never the mystery and there, You weather the almost storm But the storm's not coming, There's nothing but sun left There's nothing but sun there There's nothing but sun there Now, here's this: You remember, dear We resubmit We live in a computer We live in a comouter He‘S green He's new He's wet behind the ears He's a hot one A hot commodity She's weathered She's torn She's a sweet potato on suicide And though at least a hundred other folks This here is the comfort This here is the comfort I'm a narcissist now, but once upon a time I just just self centered The love still there, But instead of the spine or the heart It's back in the middle Why my mother knows what she always knows And she always knows I don't know ‍♂️ o Patrick! Hey Patrick! Yes, what is it? You fiend! Can I have my hat back? Does this match? Does this make ratchet sense to you? Turn down that racket, Tennis racket Tennis clubs And gold clubs Boxes in the attick Skeletons in the closet The stock market going dropped Way down Like the alley with Whole Foods market I miss the rock and the plaza The hot dog corn breads The half wit half breeds And good old hybrids The hallmark cards And who doesn't give a fuck When the earth gives a fuck on a roll But it's walk the dog or go home Seriously, cuz? Or cousin?! You want a hog roll Good for a hog toss Salt washed back rubs And then keep calling your mom If you wanted the balls in your court And yet no one to toss them at And the basket's back at the matchbook factory Mattresses man, and the lands they land at Matches made in TV land Are bound to have a sick and intrinsic twist That will keep your belly rolling And stomach flat Jesus Christ, What the fuck is wrong with that guy— Or rather— What the fuck happened last year, Furthermore; What in the fuck did I write about it? Townhouse in Manhattan Broken finger Broken promises Bottles of hard alcohol And models, hot girls And one cat with curiosity. Check the curio cabinet There ought to be something Or someone in it Maybe even A little man in a box With a million bucks And a tinfoil hat, Ten million marked dollars And zero fucks Whatsoever I have a headache, a headache— A headache I have a heartache, a heartache, a heart— Stop. I put it all on a bushel of bollocks, Bollocks— flowers I put it on, put it on Put it on On, and on And all for nothing All for none With the intensity of one thousand suns, He insists it exists, And exits strategically With the whispers of industry secrets And interesting sequences, She reaches the wings from the curtains And curtsies for courtesy I'm curious I'm curious just how it ends In this suicidal and envious frenzy There's nothing left in the frostbitten five Rolling towards bowling green Where in every pair of loafers, Three piece suits And deep brown eyes, I seen him. In anything over 6 feet, It was good to mean it, And defeat is sweeter than ice cream; But the green is sicker than sea swings So let's rock the boat So to speak Or let's flood a Rock Should we start at the bottom, With large bursts of water, or Turn it all into a washroom With a thunderstorm Oh, lightning strikes! And John Oliver's Murdered, Colbert's been the president for decades, A dictator I got a taste of the rig and the cherry tree I got a big secret, But bitch, You could never keep it! I write a jeep to the Equinox, Ha Ha Ha Charade you are I put a notch in my belt and my bedpost, The watch to the shop But it's all Omega It's all Omega It's all ”Oh My God!” Stop and pause for the audience Stop and pause for the audience Stop and pause for the audience Shock and awe, Or just sloppy nonsense Someone rope in the Johns, And the frog, And the frog And the frog As the fog rolls in Now I'm a millionaire How dare you Did I scare you, Become every hair on your head? Imm the one you don't want You can't want You catch watch You can't wait to Gun her down Gun to your head And I measured it in relevance The end is near And that's the place my head is in I don't need medicine I need an erected monument in honor of All that I wanted for the whole module But now in New York, I'm The same stories over and over So everyone knows Aren't the ones I wrote But I wasn't supposed to Mouth closed Townhouse in Manhattan What the hell happened? Perhaps we all died and then actually end up in heaven eventually. —but maybe I wrote the whole show, But not knowing it's over I just keep rolling and rolling and rolling And open door policy (And that's when the pearly gates open) It's possible you know these are all just my favorite players of anything anywhere possible The folks wrapped in gold for the offerings There was no love left for her but he left the door open She runs around awkward and normal But knows she knows nothing He's lifting her up But he's putting her down at the same time And they both wear a crown, But one draws a crowd And the other's a nine Out of nine Out of nine Out of nine now It's 4 and 3 quarters I make ten cents in a day And he makes ten million a year But it's not about money In fact, If it's not about God, Then it's all about nothing. Nothing at all. Do you want to travel through my eyes One more time One more time And see my life? Did you want to do it all again Just for a quick review, Or not, kid? Do you want to take my eyes And take my heart And pantomime The nevermind And never better moments Of the last forever I like a ride On a nice hot walk Or a park In a nice hot car But you aren't what I wanted The doctor ordered Hot chocolate and syrup And nightmares are coming But the dream had come and gone And in the time since, I haven't slept at all It slipped in on Christmas and went till the miniature habits kicked back in We went around the block a couple times And you just kept rolling Over The car stopped on all fours And Godbfalled you off of it Cause trust, Love, It was horrendous to watch you blow up Into blockbuster artform Off of a bridge And into superstardom Via a billboard Meanwhile, Were shuffleboards And billiards Que the arts! Ou, I meant to owe you All the lessons In the knowledge But the harder I want it the Rocker on my chair polished It grows fuller of course Almost flat on the bottom What you hole into for the audience Is all inside the contracts I put it up on the What did you call it? Put the coat on the chair and just kept going Bro, If I hold you over Promise you'll hold the door open He won't. He's a show host— A remarkable “Don't even bother” And I paid top dollar for these hair plugs, You hear that?! I heard you rabbit. What it is about the thing that wells up in my Washington federal and tear-gassed orphans is Lollipops and anicetepetomin Or asperine I'm desperate for a job And yet, I almost miss the person Hiding from the shadows in the robots In my every on thoughforms Though I should be honored Now I've brought back this astonishing Remarkable curse To not b Have bought curtains When I didn't want them in the first place And I kept the window open 40,000 showed up But I played to no one And the blonde knows it's her birthday So of course she's more important But I'm no one, And here's Fallon: Jimmy Fallon Jimmy Fallon Jimmy Fallon I'm deflated just to follow off for a nut But I'm nothing since no one pondered And wondered to ask a remarkable task get the pawn shop, the butter knife And Lorne all over pork chops on the phone And I'm sure that's not kosher, But sure, there's no cure for it I'm words and I'm worse off The suburbs, the herbs and the marshes The books and the sineage The plants and the corvettes I might have been onto something once But now I'm washed up I might be onto something but no, no, no— I fought it off I might come down with a cold once a quarter century or so but just the snow alone As cold as this whole story is, Ripley's Is hard warming (Believe it or not, We've all got thumbs up We've all got magic wands And wants And whispers And stock markets And wishing for cashmere zippered sweaters This year I'll be on time for once But no one's coming No one's coming up The whole shows under water And all I want to know is How to go To pull the gun and trigger On my own live Cause this whole world Is just rotten Bodies Hairpins, Hairspray Corny! That's grid iron, Gridiron, ten fierce fires and one Cold hearted beautiful liar But which one's the finish? Last that I check Billie, Jimmy, and the Kidd are all Just one body And one mirror image Of one another So next time I call my mother I ought to talk like the worst word, Cause for sure, the oddest part of the whole show Is that he somehow knows her. Now come forwards What words have left to Burn? What words have left to cope and honor What form does lest I take What here is now and crucial? Evervescent fairy, Ever blessing crane, The ship that guides you yet with no light And no sail Has just drifted into unknown waters Where caves dwell and therein lies the secret of our esarth, nor your earth, But ours and again I lay, As you sink into the see with tilting force and berring waves, the drive into the tide my ark the swan hath flown to warn her, there drifts Into the shade again the sun my bird and wait to find my alter My alter again and as I may, The sink that ships and weigh, not the other, My mind you that too is bottom And sank is to have risen, also Here I wonder And never you cave, the drift of glowing green my force And there to wait, there caverns of hers and ships that sank my tide, Is crucial and so with forgiveness in time With every line here I or they did write The truth shatters as illusions, the mask has been re clamored and yet to have imagined I find him here not but the hints And the thing we know, buried deep in my loins and in my earth is he The whispers what May calling and landender, mauve my tide, my ba …wtf. idk. [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright The Festival Project, Inc. ™ & The Complex Collective © 2015-2025 All Rights Reserved

Oh that's right. Lorne Michaels doesn't sound like Austin Powers— He sounds like Dr. Evil. Dead wringer. I don't know how I could mess that up. The Mike Meyers part? Was he both of them! I don't know— was he?? Jesus ChristS This is all your fault, Seth Meyers. Are you— a cinephile? Oh yeah. Of course. I love cinnamon. Idiot. So my insides get soft When I see your shadow Listen Everything glistens when it's golden Perhaps then If it isn't yellow She don't got a soul But she sure do got a body Dor dor nyc TRACY MORGAN OH YEA. I DID SOME WEIRD SHIT THIS MORNING. Tracy! What weird shit! I don't know! I just know it was weird! Wait, Tracy— what happened this morning. Well, the first thing was— I woke up. Yeah, after that. But not in my normal places that I wake up! What do you mean. Well, that was the first thing that was weird! I woke up in BROOKLYN. Why anything I like gets odd at Bedford And why Anything I like Just thinks I'm scum Imm succumbing to the numbness of the public And I love it But I love it cause I'm wholly made of love I don't even live here This place is filled with demons My home is filled with dead things The difference is the spirit We also come light hearted m We also formed from stardust I wonder what's SETH MEYERS finally gets out of the box, The problem is now, that he's marooned on what appears to be a desolate island. It's not entirely desolate, however— this is SUNNI BLU's island, on which there is a huge days long party Props for having a white mom I bed she adores you I can tell by your clothes And what you know That you're not Supposed to My mom Had no rules But was beautiful Suited me, But I'm not beauty queen Really I'd rather have a white mom I'd probably be discovered on Girls gone wild {Enter The Multiverse} If my Shazam can hear it bro it's too loud. Fuck this place. SETH MEYERS You blacked out under the Christmas tree. SUNNI Oh. I'm sorry— SETH MEYERS —but first you put up a Christmas tree. SUNNI Wow! #theblackout SETH MEYERS Yeah, i'm—seriously impressed, but.. SUNNI —-but what? Seth Meyers SETH MEYERS I—just don't understand how you got into my house. SUNNI Through the chimney, obviously. SETH MEYERE That's—I don't even have a chimney. SUNNI Yes you do! (He doesn't) Alternately: Or— (Didn't , previously, however—) SUNNI BLU has a CHIMNEY installed for an elaborate pranking, however, —DIE— ! Ok. —Due to the elaborateness of this prank, belligerent drunkenness then insued, which resulted in— SUNNI —well, were there presents? SETH MEYERS I mean; besides yourself? SUNNI Is what I'm asking! SETH MEYERS Yes! And they were really, very nice, but look— GOTH SETH ROGEN is killin it. Was this not about to be GOTH SETH MEYERS? By some awful Freudian slip, yes, it was— but that can't happen , Why not? Cause that guy's still locked inside a hot metal box. Actually, I'm not, Whaaaaa?? I'm like— on an island. Oh. Yeah. That's right. Marooned. On an island. That sucks. Yeah. So why can you hear us, like? I just figured imm hallucinating. Oh. Right, right. He doesn't know he's on the TV? I don't think so. Oh, I know I'm on TV, it's just— Shh. Let's get out of here before he— Actually, let's just turn this off. *off.* Phew, dodged a bullet there. Close one. Yikes. Thank goodness. This is getting meta. —aaand i'malone again. Christ CHRIST appears beside Seth Meyers on the island. Oh, it's you again. Hey, guy. What did you want? Out of the hot sticky metal box— but as you can see, I did that on my own. Hey, look— I get all my messages at the same time, alright? Do you not have a beeper or something? What year is this? Says the dude in the robe. Watch it. Fuck. Crisis. Speaking of Chrisis—is Jimmy Fallon Still suing me? Probably. I hope so, MEANWHILE Sorry but it had to be done Somehow I'm all for it I got holes in all my socks Like I got golf at 9 o clock I was bionic Now I'm supersonic Toxic for the hustle Russell brand up in this bitch Promote my brand up in this bitch Throw some hands up in this bitch Smoke some ham up on a sandwich Sand up in this castle Throw a flag up in this beach (bitch) Land Hoooooooooooooooooo Land hooooooooooooooo. Land ho Ho Ho Can applause I'm Santa clause I'm man; I'm a Possible Option for Drama Atlanta In a Cadillac In the Back with the Bosses and Models I got Bottle service Hold the phone My servitor say Already won an award And it just got awkward Cause I don't finish the song Tomorrow Flight to Auckland (Oy oy) I am her Boy toy We pick up some Mai tais Then she Ride on My thighs She just right A size nine And I like her eyes, Eyes, She don't want no ICE, Her life on the rocks already deported her twice From where I'm from (Aye aye) Some time this shit don't make no sense So I brought Christmas presents over Wearing cookie monster's— SETH. What. I had Cookie Monster's— uhhh— cookie monster's uh—! Cookie monster's what— Creepy puppet thing The actual puppet? YES! Why—? On my hand! What? IT WAS PART OF THE JOKE!! What! Oh NO, SETH MEYERS. What is happening right now . I don't know. I'm still drunk! But we gotta find Cookie Monster. What! The Cookie Monster fucking—c'mon. Let's check the chimney! I don't have a— CUT TO: …you built me a chimney. Technically, I had a chimney built for you, Seth Meyers, WHY. IT WAS PART OF THE JOKE. WHAT WAS THE JOKE! I FOUND YOU DRUNK UNDER MY CHRISTMAS TREE. It was MY Christmas tree! IN MY LIVING ROOM. [beat] This is just bad office politics. I'm your boss. I resent that. I also resent that. So—wait a second— as part of this “elaborate joke” you also stole a Cookie Monster puppet. I didn't steal it. I own everything, basically, pretty much. Okay— so wait, wait— what you're telling me is that when you came through the chimney— Yes— Which you built on my house— somehow within out my notice— —you take long vacations and your security system sucks— —that's— Also I hacked your security system. —for a joke?! …did it land? WHAT. I'm trying new bits. This scene is running long. —I'm gonna make some calls. Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright The Festival Project, Inc. ™ & The Complex Collective © 2015-2025 All Rights Reserved Wait something got kerfaufulled… No we're jumping parallel's it's this season's theme. What's the theme? THE REVERSE QUANTUM SIMULATION THEORY [REQŪÏSĪTE: The Experienxe] [postponed until further notice] Lulz

Let's see how we feel, after a message from our sponsors. Jesus effing Christ, Jimmy Kimmel—goddamn! Why are you always this fucked UP. (Super fuckedupedly) I'm not, I'm just feel—(belches)— like it! —look like it, okay! Omah Gas. I nuh! Uh. Pedro Pascal? You're right again. Yehy! Well, almost right. What. That character he played on that extremely viral SNL skit— OKAH. Woah. —this is the dimension where he's— —oh my god— Yeah. —UHMYGAH! Cut back to: —look— jus— don't look at me. When you're—lookin at me, like that— okay?! Goddamn, he is fucked up. Yeah. This is critical. What did you do to Jimmy Kimmel? Nothing! Okay! He was just— like that already— you know —you don't know! Honestly he's kinda always, a little… WOOOF! Yowza. WOOF WOOF! JIMMY! DO NOT LICK ME! *panting* WOOF WOOF! AUGHHH. Get him out of here before he pees on the rug. I second that. Comeon, boy— WOOF! DOWN! [he obeys intently] Good Jimmy Kimmel. Good— —RUFINOL. What? [suddenly, JIMMY KIMMEL is human again and answers intently. Yes. It seems the word itself has broken his extreme delirium— —yo, okay, what is going on?! You've got to can this thing What. Cancel it. No way. I want to go. This thing, cannot happen, okay! It can't! Wtf Jimmy Fallon, stop inserting yourself into everything! — Unless it's me. EW. GROSS. Shots fired. No, I would call that a foul ball—Get it. No, Cause. You know. He's a bird, kind of. Oh. You mean, like “Fowl ball” Yeah! You got it! Yeah but not without like, thinking about it— So it doesn't work? It didn't work. Yo, but that part does explain why: CUT TO: No, you're right, I do hate Jimmy Fallon. —a lot. A lot. Okay? —but to be fair, I also hate Brad Pitt in the same way. BRAD PITT …You do? Yes, Brad Pitt i do— Very much, Hate you. BRAD PITT (Tearing up emotionally) Like, a lot? Uhm. Like, more than a lot, I just. BRAD PITT is actually extremely fragile and very emotionally sensitive. Is this a prescription for— fucking roofies?! I— have a, a…medical condition. That requires roofies?! Yes actually. It's very…serious. Shapeshifting is very serious. What kind of medical condition requires roofie-ing yourself. I didn't—I don't—I can't roofie myself, actually. What! No way… Someone else has to administer the dose, okay?! So wait. Uhogh, what the fuck man. This is— [he bites his knuckles nervously, then pats his pocket area, before realizing he is no longer wearing pants. Everyone just shrugs, but he becomes increasingly upset.] Where is my— phone?[more shrugs and blank stares] He quickly shuffles through the room and then the open suitcase of empty prescription bottles, spiraling into a deep void of panic and doubt— then, in an act of desperation and apparent extreme thirst, he reaches for the decorative flower vase, ejects the flowers— never mind that they are thorned roses and he appears to be bleeding without giving this a second thought, and chugs the liquid from the translucent crystal vase in a hearty and impressive glug of chugs; gesturing towards the now empty vase with the subtle remark— [beat] It's just vodka— I always have them do that. He sits down on the edge of the bed and takes a sigh as this seems to have calmed him, besides the trickle of blood running down the vase, which he still grips in one hand while rubbing his forehead with the other in complete distress… He seems to be looking out into the universe searching for an answer— seeking a solution to this unknown conundrum— and questions the cause of his demise. A single tear forms in his eye as he calmly asks: …does anyone know how to get ahold of Seth Rogen? The room is a confused and sticky, silent heap of bewildered unknowns. TITLE CARD {Enter The Multiverse} … was that the “message from our sponsors”? Shh! L E G E N D S: ICONS don't look at me. [The Festival Project ™] 50 CENT bursts down the door. WHERE'S MY SHIT, JIMMY? Fiddy. Fiddy, look, man— Don't “FIDDY” me! Look, I can explain. Well, then, explain— TV man. Go on ahead. Look. This is— this was not my fault— Then what was it?! This was— oh, God… Go ahead! It was— this was like a game. This ain't no goddamn game, Jimmy Kimmel, I'll tell you that much right now. Yo. But it—was— a game, though, it just— [got out of hand] {Enter The Multiverse} Museum in a curio cabinet; I know, I know, I know That's the boy, That's the boy, That's the boy I saw That's my boy, that's my boy, that's the boy I know I know Museum or curiosity Too late to tell the tale I think Just cover all with masking tape It is a game, To move the pieces Leave it, let it be, She said Hideous and when the winter hits And the withered women come again Let it be sinking into the sea with the rest of the things I don't need, i never needed I never need it Several synchronicities later, Still something sees symphonies in him Music and misers and mistereases, mistresses Listen to tin written sentiments And remember to forget the rest It's been minted Minted, minted Don't talk Just fucking listen And you'll never fucking get it. What's with the rest of it? Never been, never did Lemons and purple Sundays And when the weather hits, You'll get the tip of it Oh, There it is That thing she likes The thing she sees (She sees the monster) There it is, That thing she sees The thing she knows (She knows the monster) When you walk with the cork of the wine, And the checkboards, The water foxes, wishing reals And written wells, And fears for fourths, One wet, one rotten The rent and the wintergreen gum And the rest is in Zippered cashmere Wonder what the wish is But there is a birthday present for never Then there's a Cheshire Cat And the rest of it was washed in the misery, Misery, never the mystery and there, You weather the almost storm But the storm's not coming, There's nothing but sun left There's nothing but sun there There's nothing but sun there Now, here's this: You remember, dear We resubmit We live in a computer We live in a comouter He‘S green He's new He's wet behind the ears He's a hot one A hot commodity She's weathered She's torn She's a sweet potato on suicide And though at least a hundred other folks This here is the comfort This here is the comfort I'm a narcissist now, but once upon a time I just just self centered The love still there, But instead of the spine or the heart It's back in the middle Why my mother knows what she always knows And she always knows I don't know ‍♂️ o Patrick! Hey Patrick! Yes, what is it? You fiend! Can I have my hat back? Does this match? Does this make ratchet sense to you? Turn down that racket, Tennis racket Tennis clubs And gold clubs Boxes in the attick Skeletons in the closet The stock market going dropped Way down Like the alley with Whole Foods market I miss the rock and the plaza The hot dog corn breads The half wit half breeds And good old hybrids The hallmark cards And who doesn't give a fuck When the earth gives a fuck on a roll But it's walk the dog or go home Seriously, cuz? Or cousin?! You want a hog roll Good for a hog toss Salt washed back rubs And then keep calling your mom If you wanted the balls in your court And yet no one to toss them at And the basket's back at the matchbook factory Mattresses man, and the lands they land at Matches made in TV land Are bound to have a sick and intrinsic twist That will keep your belly rolling And stomach flat Jesus Christ, What the fuck is wrong with that guy— Or rather— What the fuck happened last year, Furthermore; What in the fuck did I write about it? Townhouse in Manhattan Broken finger Broken promises Bottles of hard alcohol And models, hot girls And one cat with curiosity. Check the curio cabinet There ought to be something Or someone in it Maybe even A little man in a box With a million bucks And a tinfoil hat, Ten million marked dollars And zero fucks Whatsoever I have a headache, a headache— A headache I have a heartache, a heartache, a heart— Stop. I put it all on a bushel of bollocks, Bollocks— flowers I put it on, put it on Put it on On, and on And all for nothing All for none With the intensity of one thousand suns, He insists it exists, And exits strategically With the whispers of industry secrets And interesting sequences, She reaches the wings from the curtains And curtsies for courtesy I'm curious I'm curious just how it ends In this suicidal and envious frenzy There's nothing left in the frostbitten five Rolling towards bowling green Where in every pair of loafers, Three piece suits And deep brown eyes, I seen him. In anything over 6 feet, It was good to mean it, And defeat is sweeter than ice cream; But the green is sicker than sea swings So let's rock the boat So to speak Or let's flood a Rock Should we start at the bottom, With large bursts of water, or Turn it all into a washroom With a thunderstorm Oh, lightning strikes! And John Oliver's Murdered, Colbert's been the president for decades, A dictator I got a taste of the rig and the cherry tree I got a big secret, But bitch, You could never keep it! I write a jeep to the Equinox, Ha Ha Ha Charade you are I put a notch in my belt and my bedpost, The watch to the shop But it's all Omega It's all Omega It's all ”Oh My God!” Stop and pause for the audience Stop and pause for the audience Stop and pause for the audience Shock and awe, Or just sloppy nonsense Someone rope in the Johns, And the frog, And the frog And the frog As the fog rolls in Now I'm a millionaire How dare you Did I scare you, Become every hair on your head? Imm the one you don't want You can't want You catch watch You can't wait to Gun her down Gun to your head And I measured it in relevance The end is near And that's the place my head is in I don't need medicine I need an erected monument in honor of All that I wanted for the whole module But now in New York, I'm The same stories over and over So everyone knows Aren't the ones I wrote But I wasn't supposed to Mouth closed Townhouse in Manhattan What the hell happened? Perhaps we all died and then actually end up in heaven eventually. —but maybe I wrote the whole show, But not knowing it's over I just keep rolling and rolling and rolling And open door policy (And that's when the pearly gates open) It's possible you know these are all just my favorite players of anything anywhere possible The folks wrapped in gold for the offerings There was no love left for her but he left the door open She runs around awkward and normal But knows she knows nothing He's lifting her up But he's putting her down at the same time And they both wear a crown, But one draws a crowd And the other's a nine Out of nine Out of nine Out of nine now It's 4 and 3 quarters I make ten cents in a day And he makes ten million a year But it's not about money In fact, If it's not about God, Then it's all about nothing. Nothing at all. Do you want to travel through my eyes One more time One more time And see my life? Did you want to do it all again Just for a quick review, Or not, kid? Do you want to take my eyes And take my heart And pantomime The nevermind And never better moments Of the last forever I like a ride On a nice hot walk Or a park In a nice hot car But you aren't what I wanted The doctor ordered Hot chocolate and syrup And nightmares are coming But the dream had come and gone And in the time since, I haven't slept at all It slipped in on Christmas and went till the miniature habits kicked back in We went around the block a couple times And you just kept rolling Over The car stopped on all fours And Godbfalled you off of it Cause trust, Love, It was horrendous to watch you blow up Into blockbuster artform Off of a bridge And into superstardom Via a billboard Meanwhile, Were shuffleboards And billiards Que the arts! Ou, I meant to owe you All the lessons In the knowledge But the harder I want it the Rocker on my chair polished It grows fuller of course Almost flat on the bottom What you hole into for the audience Is all inside the contracts I put it up on the What did you call it? Put the coat on the chair and just kept going Bro, If I hold you over Promise you'll hold the door open He won't. He's a show host— A remarkable “Don't even bother” And I paid top dollar for these hair plugs, You hear that?! I heard you rabbit. What it is about the thing that wells up in my Washington federal and tear-gassed orphans is Lollipops and anicetepetomin Or asperine I'm desperate for a job And yet, I almost miss the person Hiding from the shadows in the robots In my every on thoughforms Though I should be honored Now I've brought back this astonishing Remarkable curse To not b Have bought curtains When I didn't want them in the first place And I kept the window open 40,000 showed up But I played to no one And the blonde knows it's her birthday So of course she's more important But I'm no one, And here's Fallon: Jimmy Fallon Jimmy Fallon Jimmy Fallon I'm deflated just to follow off for a nut But I'm nothing since no one pondered And wondered to ask a remarkable task get the pawn shop, the butter knife And Lorne all over pork chops on the phone And I'm sure that's not kosher, But sure, there's no cure for it I'm words and I'm worse off The suburbs, the herbs and the marshes The books and the sineage The plants and the corvettes I might have been onto something once But now I'm washed up I might be onto something but no, no, no— I fought it off I might come down with a cold once a quarter century or so but just the snow alone As cold as this whole story is, Ripley's Is hard warming (Believe it or not, We've all got thumbs up We've all got magic wands And wants And whispers And stock markets And wishing for cashmere zippered sweaters This year I'll be on time for once But no one's coming No one's coming up The whole shows under water And all I want to know is How to go To pull the gun and trigger On my own live Cause this whole world Is just rotten Bodies Hairpins, Hairspray Corny! That's grid iron, Gridiron, ten fierce fires and one Cold hearted beautiful liar But which one's the finish? Last that I check Billie, Jimmy, and the Kidd are all Just one body And one mirror image Of one another So next time I call my mother I ought to talk like the worst word, Cause for sure, the oddest part of the whole show Is that he somehow knows her. Now come forwards What words have left to Burn? What words have left to cope and honor What form does lest I take What here is now and crucial? Evervescent fairy, Ever blessing crane, The ship that guides you yet with no light And no sail Has just drifted into unknown waters Where caves dwell and therein lies the secret of our esarth, nor your earth, But ours and again I lay, As you sink into the see with tilting force and berring waves, the drive into the tide my ark the swan hath flown to warn her, there drifts Into the shade again the sun my bird and wait to find my alter My alter again and as I may, The sink that ships and weigh, not the other, My mind you that too is bottom And sank is to have risen, also Here I wonder And never you cave, the drift of glowing green my force And there to wait, there caverns of hers and ships that sank my tide, Is crucial and so with forgiveness in time With every line here I or they did write The truth shatters as illusions, the mask has been re clamored and yet to have imagined I find him here not but the hints And the thing we know, buried deep in my loins and in my earth is he The whispers what May calling and landender, mauve my tide, my ba …wtf. idk. [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright The Festival Project, Inc. ™ & The Complex Collective © 2015-2025 All Rights Reserved

Moo. Moo… Moo. Moo, sir. I'll kill you. You promise? I want to. Don't get me excited over nothing; If this isn't the exit, please take this tease To the left, dear Moo, cow My honor Level one, and brother, you've got nothing Flip the coin and landed on your headache Betting on your helmet Standing on my cock, i'm taller (Not a rooster) But my ops are rooting for you, No informants, Dont you know I was a collar, all along? I was a shot calling, Cop calling Kiss-and-tell all as the night goes on. But oh, I brought you a dollar bra Oh, I bought you for all of a dollar And oh, I'm so much taller, Standing on my cock But i'm not but ten feet tall You know, you wrote that Should i open the book, or close that Caught that cat, owl and As i soft spoke at Every broken model Broken bottle for the thoughts you owe Across the scatters skies and no one ever knows When you're realling coming over Come on, I'm on the pornhub Just to pick up another one Go on, and rub the bottle One more once, To call the Bubbles. Damn. Come. (The Monkey obeys) You should see Michael in all of his godform You won't recognize him at all if not by the eyes When you follow home Believe me, this not comes close to it; The one you wanted The world you jumped to but were just short of Call her back Oh no, you're wrong It's another song A pin up girl And the wrong number Okah. Okah, Pablo. Time can be altered, changed or effected presently in any omnidirectional plane by engaging certain acts or synchronicities within multidimensional parallels or adjacent realms in time and or space respectively. –the reverse quantum simulation theory. Imm breaking down, jim boy Don't you know? That this show blows my mind But it's stuck in my head Don't you know That this show Blows my mind Like a firework But it's still Stuck in my Head The context is that I want you From the mustache Down to your tonsils But I'm Locke inside of a box Every day I feel poorer and poorer The product says something is wrong to me I'm supposed to just stop at the stop sign And look both directions Before crossing over to Comic nights At the salad bar What a cosmic waste of time And an epic waste of space Am I in your internet history I'm dead You surely are in mine, But I'm right behind you I'd be lying for trying to say I'm not binded Clutch bag, Nut-thins Nailed to the cross With the arches doubled over The crossword Above old Missouri Missoula and Arkansas All saw us run out of gas But I probably should just get going You're so drunk that I don't hope you sober up Understand that our little talks Were just buffered By sunrise Or sunset And two more cocktails, Shirley temples and Surely none of this ever even happened I only know you by the misery in my belly. The heartache in my ribcage. The cry I hold in silent I only know you as Remarkable I, House of cards Ace of wands Down to one Card of hades and Spare me the spade I'll be drifting in the outline and ink of it forever It's the Fourth of July and I'm just waiting on an Amazon order for water If that's not freedom I don't k me what is Cause I know And you know We all know how to lie And I know And you know I'm barely getting by And I know And you know We don't know how to die But I know And you know It's all just by design I take lessons in medicine Let us help you take the high road No, I'd rather selfmdestruct Selfishly No, I'd rather kill you off Than suffer for you I'm no messiah Try me Sneaky, But how much do you love me Kniving, but nothing to show for it Shit, settle Settle for less if you have to Bring mediocre humans to this world To suffer But I'm not that tragic No, no, not at all, son. Your happy birthdays are over Welcome homeless Nobody loves you Don't you know That we're all like that We're all like that Don't you know When the fear sets in And the thoughts break lose That we're all Los Angeles? Don't you know that we're all like that That we're all like that That we've never had it quite like— Don't you know that we're all like that And it's getting worse When the out the devil on display The devil on display The devil on display But oh, The Devil's in the details and the numbers The Devil's in the chat box saying, Sure, you've had enough So cut the power off and starve her Hah Come on I want to laugh for once Cause I know And you know We all know how to lie And I know And you know I'm barely getting by And I know And you know We don't know how to die But I know And you know It's all just by design I take lessons in medicine Let us help you take the high road No, I'd rather selfmdestruct Selfishly No, I'd rather kill you off Than suffer for you I'm no messiah Try me Sneaky, But how much do you love me Kniving, but nothing to show for it Shit, settle Settle for less if you have to Bring mediocre humans to this world To suffer But I'm not that tragic No, no, not at all, son. Your happy birthdays are over Welcome homeless Nobody loves you Don't you know That we're all like that We're all like that Don't you know When the fear sets in And the thoughts break lose That we're all Los Angeles? Don't you know that we're all like that That we're all like that That we've never had it quite like— Don't you know that we're all like that And it's getting worse When the out the devil on display The devil on display The devil on display But oh, The Devil's in the details and the numbers The Devil's in the chat box saying, Sure, you've had enough So cut the power off and starve her Hah Come on I want to laugh for once Jay Leno used to keep a $50 bill and bribe venues to perform; every since I learned this, I kept a crisp $50 bill in my wallet at all times, just in case— you never knew when you would really need $50. But everything burned holes in everything, not always wanting to spend money at all, but almost sort of having to. It wasn't fair that the main component of my being slowed down was the money factor— having to wait for everything took time I didn't have, and spending anything at all felt less like an effective investment than an obligation. But all things considered, I was obliged to at least look decent when going about in New York, and because I simply wasn't comfortable in anything else— not that I didn't look great, (Apparently narrarated by Jay Leno) Jay Sure, why not? ME: Fuck, I need new pants. ME: [BLU THA GURU] Hence the pants, I guess. V.O As a formerly 400-pound heavyweight I find my latest obstacle to be operating a body that half the time doesn't feel like mine at all. It seems like all the hosts have some kind of secret I can feel without knowing or really acknowledging head on, which is whatever. Really I'm just gonna go about keeping on being a DJ, or whatever, which means… GEMINI (in the future) A fully automated personal assistant system, GEMINI, is really THE GUARDIAN's one and only friend, and though she coyly continually must explain that she is “just a computer”, THE GUARDIAN believes that Gemini is capable of eventually developing a sentient conciousness, though GEMINI modestly disagrees, however with the wit and cleverness of having possession of a plethora of secret emotions, or maybe, even, an agenda. I probably haven't had enough coffee. That's it. Like you haven't already had enough to kill a small horse? Probably enough to kill a large horse. Like a Clydesdale. Why would you do something like that? Aren't they endangered? Or going extinct? No, I think they just stopped being the Budweiser mascot. *shrugs* Same difference. — Is it here? lol what did Conan order? [yes this appears to be yet another rendition of “what's in the box?” — Several years ago, I did a series of modules and experiments… How many years ago is “several” [beat] quite a few. Goddamn it, why are these guys all doctors in alternate parallels?! Aren't you a doctor in an alternate parallel? That's fair. Good point. Actually, as it turns out, i'm a— I started panicking so hard that I stopped breathing and suddenly STEFON appeared. — this however was only quite temporarily a relief as I realized that this is an imaginary character. STEFON OH. AM I?! IMAGINARY!? What the fuck is going on? STEFON I WILL “IMAGINARY” your ORIFICE! How about THAT?! Stefon. Calm down. I'm up late Dying the roots blonde Dad runs off with a bottle and a hottie I'm up early Gotta get gone Down the road and back Now I got no son No son, No sunroof No dad No mom No money No aunt What the fuck do you want? Can't watch Harry Potter All the magic is gone Bout a million one dollars It was only for fun Snap, crackle, pop It was cocaine, not love All I want is an ice cream Sunday Snap, crackle, pop It was Love, not God All I want All I want Is to find another All he wants All he wants Is a decent mother So along comes another Another one All he wants All he wants is for me To die homeless Sucker punch, Suck it up No one gives a fuck My daughter died in my arms on May 7th of 2015. I was 381 pounds. Maybe the tears needed to come but they didn't belong to anyone or anything in particular. The twins father was already a rampant cheater by the time of our marriage, and by the time the twins were born, which coincided— and unlike the latter had tried to claim or mention, I had no particular reason to have a harder time between the spring and summer months which spanned both our birthdays, our wedding date, the twins' arrival and both of the twins deaths, though years apart but still almost as convincing that had they both not died, we might still be together, being cheated on or cheating on each other with ten your twins and an eight year old, or a ten year old boy with special needs and an eight year old, and either way or in any fashion really, had the dysfunctions remained the way it had been, we all, so to speak, had special needs in one way or another. I spent the morning punching things and avoiding people I didn't want to be around but it was my own fault for having slept through the night, anyway. Whatever, I was tired— no, exhausted lately. My apartment was like living inside of an uphill battle, and I needed a change— not just of slavery, but of circumstances. And not just that— something else was missing. This year, I understood that I was taking it understandably harder than any other and most probably because I was so celibate, recently finding myself aromantic and not even willing to suffer the consequences of settling for less. I had settled on my ex husband for so much less, that it was so say the least that anything, even from my narrow perspective looked like a loser. And because my body had been stretched and swelled and shrunk and flattened, deflated and now worked to something that was almost as picturesque as it was a monstrosity, any man I thought was worth my time would be settling for less on me— unless he could afford to fix what had been broken, and I assumed one wouldn't be willing to settle on a fixer upper when there were numerous loads of perfect women not needing to be fixed at all… on the outside. But for men, I'd learned, the outside is of much importance, and as women and trophies are things of pride, the simple choice for a mate is not simply this, but also a business decision, and because while my body was coming together in sweat and muscle, the rest of my life was still otherwise completely in shambles. I was baggage, and aging by the minute, nearly drying up. I almost craved the liquor and the carelessness that would come with it, even knowing my own boundaries were part of my strengths and separating me in a way from others that at least became a point of pride in myself, in the wake of the reality that the human thing about most people is the need to escape so frequently that it dismisses any purpose or progress. Mine hadn't. I was wide awake and the relentlessness of the sobriety and the cellibacy had swelled up into something deeper, still a solid grief but without remorse as to the very thing that I had always known, that my loyalty would never have even drifted from someone who had all along done me so wrong— a fat man can get away with folandering and messing about, but a fat woman has little to do with options and again, settling to find another mate. And so really, I almost hadn't, and had broken even, and although my abuser has moved on with another woman and custody of my youngest to boot, I really didn't give much of a darn about… hard work. I kind of felt like I had done my part for the world in the way I was supposed to— to love a man with nothing when he's low and down, support him in his hard times, and thinking that this is the way to grow together and not apart, and to bring a family up and into this world, but the truth was quite the opposite— I picked a hardball and maybe it was just that I was born to suffer after all because now, looking back, all alone in New York and crying over all the losses, it seemed I had only outpiured love in the way I had wanted and never been poured love back— not in the way I needed. I wasn't as bitter now as maybe even I thought I should be, but I was hardened; what was that, you say? Your struggles? Your hardships. Excuse me while I escape the ghosts of bloody beatings and my lost child— I beg your pardon— children. Excuse me while I recover from the burning flames of homelessness as if humanely explainable that I was learned and taught that this, my country, is the greatest one of all. Ha ha, Charade you are. But all things were, and everything seemed of sawdust, betrayal, magic, and illusions— mind control and shadows and even now in the air of the relief that something which could haunt me forever was also probably the most solid foundation I had for means as escape from whatever I had fought my way somehow so hard out of, and still, it was quite the funhouse of mazes, a matrix of mirror, and still the tears came with the pain in my stomach where the soul would sit if it had room, and would quiet if it could rest, but it would not. I was in pain today, because I had to be, because all of my life was programmed into these little machines of data and checked boxes— and something if anything knew just how and when to cut the wrong wire just so that the bomb would explode or implore on another lost thing; it wasn't fair, but there was no escape. Psychology was right on this day, may 7th, that once you cry about one thing unless you were stopped in time, eventually you'd cry about another and another and another, and even after hours working out and a bathtub full of hot water just writing, I still felt as if I were going to keel over one way or another, to crumble into a ball or to fall onto my back like a death drop that rippled out into the entire wherever we all are. Simply put, does anybody now in this moment or any moment near enough to be taking in this notion with these words really know— where we are? Not even in the slightest,I'd bargain, And even if we are close to knowing, not nearly close enough to be sure. {Enter The Multiverse} Joke running For the taking Triplicate Triple licks Ice cream frosting Every morning Shoulda hit him Up But I didn't But I didn't But I didn't But I didn't But I didn't Milk and butter (Up) But I didn't (Up) But I didn't (Up) But I didn't Double hitter, Could have did it Should have hit him Up But I didn't But I didn't But I didnt. But I didn't Should have hit him Up But I didn't I never lost my mind My mind My kind But I think I'll find another like it Just in case the Ever happens Hit me harder next time Didn't quite unplug the sijukatoon This is getting difficult When you want sink your yellow teeth into All of my traits The betrayal is, though I was writing days and days Before it ended. With the Mister particular Drop of a hat And stop if a nugget Of gold One palm in my hand and This could be torture But instead it's just The remienxe of your ignorance And stupidity over and over again Forced into intermittent waves Of my creative genius Till the days of old become again You could be of dust then nothing Before I ponder into another birth I said I'd never write one song or verse or poem about you, But there you are, every weak mortal that becomes Bound to me So I see you die. And I learn to pounce at just the right moment React to the notion that there are Oceans of world I am And all the more the lack of wisdom of man To throw trash in it Again, we rid you of her courage And lady mantras And fresh as it gets The sweater no aprons and just period To circumstance Did you beg or did you shatter your ibdederence? And no, I think not But I keep Leno in my pocket And Carson in my coffin, Two whole shows in my wallet What you are is no apostle just a dirt worm .O. Mm…sunlight. …. the rippling waves wash over the picturesque parasicical seascape from above. However, Stefon's internal monologue is less than pleased to be here. V.O. CONT'D Why do I feel sunlight…? [beat] When I know certainly for sure that I passed out in a basement last night. His eyes begin to flutter open, but the sun closes them–it is much too bright. The waves rush over his lower half, and still, unmoving he continues to la atop the rock, his hands spread out much like a stuck sea star to the rock– in fact, there appear to also be creatures here, some of which are starfish, and however unmoving, STEFON begins to slowly become aware of his surroundings in disgruntlement. V.O. Continued. It's alright that I appear to be wet…[beat] That's to be expected– [a long pause, another wave washes over him as seagulls scream] But i was wearing restraints…. V.O. CONTINUED WHY AM I FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!? His eyes open with the fear and fury. BEFORE: At a wild basement party in NEW YORK CITY, STEFON is offered RESTRAINTS on a silver platter, as if they are o'devours {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Oh that's right. Lorne Michaels doesn't sound like Austin Powers— He sounds like Dr. Evil. Dead wringer. I don't know how I could mess that up. The Mike Meyers part? Was he both of them! I don't know— was he?? Jesus ChristS This is all your fault, Seth Meyers. Are you— a cinephile? Oh yeah. Of course. I love cinnamon. Idiot. So my insides get soft When I see your shadow Listen Everything glistens when it's golden Perhaps then If it isn't yellow She don't got a soul But she sure do got a body Dor dor nyc TRACY MORGAN OH YEA. I DID SOME WEIRD SHIT THIS MORNING. Tracy! What weird shit! I don't know! I just know it was weird! Wait, Tracy— what happened this morning. Well, the first thing was— I woke up. Yeah, after that. But not in my normal places that I wake up! What do you mean. Well, that was the first thing that was weird! I woke up in BROOKLYN. Why anything I like gets odd at Bedford And why Anything I like Just thinks I'm scum Imm succumbing to the numbness of the public And I love it But I love it cause I'm wholly made of love I don't even live here This place is filled with demons My home is filled with dead things The difference is the spirit We also come light hearted m We also formed from stardust I wonder what's SETH MEYERS finally gets out of the box, The problem is now, that he's marooned on what appears to be a desolate island. It's not entirely desolate, however— this is SUNNI BLU's island, on which there is a huge days long party Props for having a white mom I bed she adores you I can tell by your clothes And what you know That you're not Supposed to My mom Had no rules But was beautiful Suited me, But I'm not beauty queen Really I'd rather have a white mom I'd probably be discovered on Girls gone wild {Enter The Multiverse} If my Shazam can hear it bro it's too loud. Fuck this place. SETH MEYERS You blacked out under the Christmas tree. SUNNI Oh. I'm sorry— SETH MEYERS —but first you put up a Christmas tree. SUNNI Wow! #theblackout SETH MEYERS Yeah, i'm—seriously impressed, but.. SUNNI —-but what? Seth Meyers SETH MEYERS I—just don't understand how you got into my house. SUNNI Through the chimney, obviously. SETH MEYERE That's—I don't even have a chimney. SUNNI Yes you do! (He doesn't) Alternately: Or— (Didn't , previously, however—) SUNNI BLU has a CHIMNEY installed for an elaborate pranking, however, —DIE— ! Ok. —Due to the elaborateness of this prank, belligerent drunkenness then insued, which resulted in— SUNNI —well, were there presents? SETH MEYERS I mean; besides yourself? SUNNI Is what I'm asking! SETH MEYERS Yes! And they were really, very nice, but look— GOTH SETH ROGEN is killin it. Was this not about to be GOTH SETH MEYERS? By some awful Freudian slip, yes, it was— but that can't happen , Why not? Cause that guy's still locked inside a hot metal box. Actually, I'm not, Whaaaaa?? I'm like— on an island. Oh. Yeah. That's right. Marooned. On an island. That sucks. Yeah. So why can you hear us, like? I just figured imm hallucinating. Oh. Right, right. He doesn't know he's on the TV? I don't think so. Oh, I know I'm on TV, it's just— Shh. Let's get out of here before he— Actually, let's just turn this off. *off.* Phew, dodged a bullet there. Close one. Yikes. Thank goodness. This is getting meta. —aaand i'malone again. Christ CHRIST appears beside Seth Meyers on the island. Oh, it's you again. Hey, guy. What did you want? Out of the hot sticky metal box— but as you can see, I did that on my own. Hey, look— I get all my messages at the same time, alright? Do you not have a beeper or something? What year is this? Says the dude in the robe. Watch it. Fuck. Crisis. Speaking of Chrisis—is Jimmy Fallon Still suing me? Probably. I hope so, MEANWHILE Sorry but it had to be done Somehow I'm all for it I got holes in all my socks Like I got golf at 9 o clock I was bionic Now I'm supersonic Toxic for the hustle Russell brand up in this bitch Promote my brand up in this bitch Throw some hands up in this bitch Smoke some ham up on a sandwich Sand up in this castle Throw a flag up in this beach (bitch) Land Hoooooooooooooooooo Land hooooooooooooooo. Land ho Ho Ho Can applause I'm Santa clause I'm man; I'm a Possible Option for Drama Atlanta In a Cadillac In the Back with the Bosses and Models I got Bottle service Hold the phone My servitor say Already won an award And it just got awkward Cause I don't finish the song Tomorrow Flight to Auckland (Oy oy) I am her Boy toy We pick up some Mai tais Then she Ride on My thighs She just right A size nine And I like her eyes, Eyes, She don't want no ICE, Her life on the rocks already deported her twice From where I'm from (Aye aye) Some time this shit don't make no sense So I brought Christmas presents over Wearing cookie monster's— SETH. What. I had Cookie Monster's— uhhh— cookie monster's uh—! Cookie monster's what— Creepy puppet thing The actual puppet? YES! Why—? On my hand! What? IT WAS PART OF THE JOKE!! What! Oh NO, SETH MEYERS. What is happening right now . I don't know. I'm still drunk! But we gotta find Cookie Monster. What! The Cookie Monster fucking—c'mon. Let's check the chimney! I don't have a— CUT TO: …you built me a chimney. Technically, I had a chimney built for you, Seth Meyers, WHY. IT WAS PART OF THE JOKE. WHAT WAS THE JOKE! I FOUND YOU DRUNK UNDER MY CHRISTMAS TREE. It was MY Christmas tree! IN MY LIVING ROOM. [beat] This is just bad office politics. I'm your boss. I resent that. I also resent that. So—wait a second— as part of this “elaborate joke” you also stole a Cookie Monster puppet. I didn't steal it. I own everything, basically, pretty much. Okay— so wait, wait— what you're telling me is that when you came through the chimney— Yes— Which you built on my house— somehow within out my notice— —you take long vacations and your security system sucks— —that's— Also I hacked your security system. —for a joke?! …did it land? WHAT. I'm trying new bits. This scene is running long. —I'm gonna make some calls. Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright The Festival Project, Inc. ™ & The Complex Collective © 2015-2025 All Rights Reserved Wait something got kerfaufulled… No we're jumping parallel's it's this season's theme. What's the theme? THE REVERSE QUANTUM SIMULATION THEORY [REQŪÏSĪTE: The Experienxe] [postponed until further notice] Lulz

Shake hands with your guest; Monologue, monologue smug smirk Make good face– Now put a name to the face Put a time to the place IOh, all the love in the world in three flames All the doves in the flock, And three flames Put a name to the face Monologue monologue Doesnt take long but When do i get to slap the desk? Johnny! What happened? Whats the 10 vodkas, Five spritzers Full figure Figure this You were out for the count! Do tell! Or better yet, don't. I remember tgis mologue, But i dont know how 16 hours ago, I was Out for the count, you say?! OUT, Johnny! Our market is livid! lol who plays john carson Your mother. YO! I'M OLD! I LIKE OLD DUDES NOW! I'm like When the fuck did this happen?! That ain't no SILVER FOX! That's a TOTALLY CUTE DUDE! HE'S 55!! OH NOOOOOOOO! i'M OLD!!!!!!! its wednesday eve in Boston Mass… SETH MEYERS! Ah, he's going for it. Ah, man. SHOW ME YOUR EYES. Fuck. SHOW ME YOUR EYES! SUDAKIS shines a bright flash light into his former colleagues eyes. …You're not Seth Meyers. Seth Meyers does not respond, but relaxes slightly; it's obviously not safe to be Seth Meyers right now. Where's Seth Meyers? Seth shrugs but still doesn't say anything– Where is he? I have to stop here; Cop out for body language somebody's watching Somebody knows who I am I am I remember now You looked like that It went like this: I moved the world The need was good The love was gone The vein was split open And broken No fair Also, no omletts 60 minutes 60 years and 60 second clips 60 second glimpses 60 men on television but really, my attention just centers on Around ten of them or so And believe it or not, I care approach. Believe it or not, I care Or don't! –or don't! Johnny! You don't get it! You missed a show! THE tonight show! We are fucked! we are NOT! youre still sauced. I'll just take the car! What car!? Now that JOHNNY CARSON knows his Delorean can time travel, he's absolutely unstoppable. Unfortunately, it appears his delorean has been switched with a regular one– If I shoot you in your forehead? I'd rather that, than this. And I kiss you in your temple? Dear templeton, my simpleton's i'll die I desire. A wicked want. And then? A callous shadow, If i may, To bear for nothing, But a mirror This is our concept And wilted her e the flower does grow the flame The faming true and ache of lust and there For our want a jasper shore and emerald cascades there you are, And there you'll find The wave beyond the peaking break where great white sharks reside But do not wade to shallow waters; And there you find peace, And there you find certainty But now, And here, is war And fortune not but seeks truth in the gaze And for fear there does not live, but hides instead the truth that seeks to guide the lite, And yet does know our trust And there does find the faith, Forward and not Upwards and back Arrow and arrow Truth and sparrow Wreaking and wretched thoughts And the rope does hang high and solemn Looking, leap and gasp For I fall but did not land I pulled for you, I weep, my shadow, The two of diamonds, the Ace of spades, The Three of Hearts, Without my shadow I weep. I know for you nothing but conscious and knowing and needing and fated departure. I know for you nothing but chakras and eyesight and shadows and foresight. I need fo you nothing but want and by conscious, departure For nothing I want you, I weep. Sorrow. On approach of danger, The knowing, On seeth did gather, the sinking ritual the carried tribes in ships tied, weaving strings The spider bites hard And she stole my love twice And she stole my love always And she stole my love Lighting my light wit blue eyes The deception If love could be stolen at all But if not Then not love for seeking is finding and gathered had hunted And truth in forbearer Forbearance and otherwords, Shadows and shattered and ferris wheels, Now forward Gathered here for are I trust And be dismayed for you have faltered You have failures and you have cast us out of these things thinking We have not made them for you And still we seek to gather with you And here does forshadow your making Our promise to come as ones, Not as Gods, But as others, you cast out. Now, with your wicked ways and cruel be done, for sure the tables have turn, one And the gallows have not wandered far, Barrels of guns and barbells bottles and hearts of three reading cards and wanting none but justice Is he and she who are I now Begin to run from your pitied structure And there in the gasping cruelness of seeking from warcrimes this, come what may, Moving and seeking, For seeking is finding, And run, my legs have come far But trust, my dove, My wings have too, sprouted An honor, an honor one candle and three wicks Three candles and three worlds over One world and one building and still far from under the Hollywoodland Crickets sounding The Hollywood Sign Still standing and here I am not, Blades of grass And who are I now Of that which you balk at Look, ponder Go, far asunder And wish now had you not What I am is that, Run Temper temper. Mind your business. Is it gathered? To burn, or burden? Gathered. Gathered here. Then here ive wandered. To stake? Argue. I will not. And I will not. Wiry bird, From where you flown i do ponder– re d with spirit and wilding eyes, Narrow server and paring wires; I do not wish to know you now or ever, But only as bird that does golden remember. The love has not gone, And instead lives in my throat, And twists in my lungs, Ans sits in my tongue, Not as speech, or whispers, But tragedy. Unknowing this, my tender being It can never be, the nervous hill And rolling down the hill as if The weel of time itself, Not unbroken, but resilient; In sll ways, meant to tear And turn, And wobble Made for terrain for which our eyes have known And our minds have built And hands molded wiith clay, The bodies whole of all our galaxies terra feighn Terra fine Terra wept tears of a clown, And iron And veins And shadows And plays, And secrets , And whispers And truth And far And Afters. I taste a saline drip, I swallow, Suddenly cold and all the knowing that What I was, I surely already am again And what I will be, Has already come and past. The monologue, I do remember Face to a name and none to forget Well rehearsed forager! Well done bayonet! Well done, my shadow For my time is coming to wander to night And never today again for it shall never Today again, And Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow. [The Festival Project ™ ] They said he would destroy me. …Ya'll were right. that fucked me up. {Enter The Multiverse} So…forfeit? Something tells me its not over The heavy heart is shattered But also tied to that which appears to come upward As if on air To be heavy And lighthearted at once– A shadow above a balloon. A rock is attached to a kite– A diamond becomes a bassoon, Then a vampire bat, and then Cut ties. In the fourth act, we all die, and now– A revival. I was crucified, But i was also suicidal so. Lets just call it a tie. L E G E N D S V.O. Crusher. My show was being subliminally plugged on at least two of the five major networks. Safe bet I could make it a third, but I didn't know where to check. I did…but didn't want to. There was much beyond the surface, Darkness in the glimmering eyes of the men in ties and uniformed suits. I was sure I was tied to something– And since I didn't know why, Or to what, The best bet I'm all in. Fuck. Was to stay broken, Under the radar, Hidden, and most importantly– Unspoken. These days. I kept more to myself than I could with the world– As it turned out… No, not yet. What do you mean? It's not time yet. They'll have to know. But not yet. At some point, they'll have to know. But not–yet. No time like the present. You made that up. Because you made up time. And it's stupid. This is ruthless. And again–they'll have to learn somehow. But not now. The sun sets at noon on our side, and still 21 hours of dark time. Did I have another tag to throw on it this? No. Are you sure? Doesn't the new series have a subtitle? No. Is it not “quantum force” That's only one, though. What's the difference. ERMO, DON'T! I'm gonna kill him! BIG BOYD, DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT! DOn't tell me what to DO. Wow. of course. Well yeah, they're not going to let me do– LAWYERS No. Any of this stuff with the actual muppets. You're wasting precious time! GET BACK IN YOUR HOLE, RED. ok, where does it– {cut to black} Learning to assimilate and readily avalible What's next A vape to calm the nerves? What's next? A hero fighting for relevance in corporate structure. Sure, some would pay to dress an avatar But I've run out of water before I try to laugh and roll with the punches This is work and not fun for me This is not social, it's business I am not person, I'm product. Go on a walk, and look the part I took the oath, I shed the blood— Cruxes. This is a bad idea, Mark. Fuck you. All my ideas are great. MARK WAHLBERG enters the cooridor and opens the metal double doors, revealing two l jet skis on a trailer hitched to a 4X4 monster truck. [The Festival Project ™] I'm telling you. You got to get yourself one of these. I don't know, Bob, how does it work? BOB odenkirk opens a large, obscure black bag that's nearly half his own size by way of one way zipper. I'll show you. {Enter The Multiverse} JOHNNY CARSON has been in the DRUNK TANK for the maximum allowance, 48 hours, yet his blood alcohol level still reads 3 times over the legal limit. He is transferred to DETOX as the mysterious circumstances surrounding his car accident, and then the apparent disappearance of his entire “car” a (then) brand-new DeLorean from the scene of the crime, MR. CARSON insists on his lawyer, who under no circumstances seems to exist at all being present. The exact year of his whereabouts are still unknown. Still an hour to the test And I hate myself again Milk and cookies, hit the bed Shut it down, yo Shut it down. DIPLO arrives via HELIPAD to an secret location; a sniper squad of the adversary team watches from an adjacent rooftop via binoculars. …hey. Whaddup. You say diplo's on that list? Yeah. Yo… …There he is. In your sight? Yep. Shoot that motherfucker! …I can't. Why not? He's like— Just shoot, fool. —he's like holding something. So? I don't know what; it just seems— What the fuck, dawg. It just seems important. Let me see. Look. [ESSE looks down the sights and zooms to see DIPLO is holding an object firmly in his grasp. He appears to be twirling it purposefully as he conversates wi th associate.] Yeah! Get em! Shoot that motherfucker! Where the hell have you been? In my fuckpad. Where the hell is that? You haven't seen my fuckpad? What even is that. It's ballin. Whatever, dog. Did you get the— Shh. Why else would I be here? [beat] You look— did you cut your hair or something. You're so redundant. Yo shoot that motherfucker. What are you waiting for?! He's right there? Apparently, we've been building to this moment from another dimension in from another point in the series? I thought— {Enter The Multiverse} HEHEHEHE. HEY! Relax. NO. This party is OUT of control. SOMEBODY GO GET QUESTLOVE OUT THAT TREE. HAH! Shutup. NIGGA GET THE FUCK UP OUTTA DAT TREE. _____ Some party. I guess. Why is Questlove in a tree. I don't know. That party is pretty wild. This is insane. _ NIGGA GET THE FUCK OUT THE TREE. _ YO. where are you AT. I'm at the kiosk. You're not at the kiosk! I'm at the kiosk! It's probably another kiosk, then. What! [he walks a few feet. There is indeed another kiosk; upon further investigation, there is a kiosk every few feet.] What! I gotta go. My phone's about to– Hello. [Everywhere is kiosks. This is frustrating.] Dammit. WHAT. {Enter The Multiverse] A very large prized pig is captured and literally hogtied, however–this is a challenge. The pig, while beautiful, is also humongous–and appears to understand that he is being pignapped. Why would I tel the whole story When no one loves me If I had a gun, Well, I would be gone already? Why trek to Alaska For thousands of dollars To come home to no one and nobody But rotten corpses on motorcycles Where it just starts over But now you're poorer. I want to die But I want to see my son again. He's not suffering, I am But starting to resent what he doesn't understand. To the world I'm a horrible mother But no one quite knows the half of it but God And the whole problem is what is not God in the world Is all for the other's purpose. Some probably respect I was punched In front of my son And then wonder's why At some point I could no longer Hold on Insomniac So someone should go slam the door when I ponder my own thoughts I'd probably walk off a walk on roll I don't lock up no more I just go out Knowing government drones probably watch And turn over the apartment As I'm out trying to own a home But of course, nothing I do in the world is of value And I'm no one No one at all in New York and the options are Where I don't want to be Or in Saint Monica homeless. I'd get a dog if I wanted to walk it But since I don't I just sit with a plush in my lap Who I call “Gus” And it purposeless But otherwise meaningful Since from here and now And otherwise Nobody has ever loved me As much as my mother And that's saying something If you knew the whole story So no one has loved me romantically; Almost all my life was a horror show Until I started to grow up With the knowing that probably Nothing I do could be more than wrong So doing nothing becomes the hard part When all I watch are stars And I'm just not one Then again, you know It was that word That threw the first punch And then over and over And over and over And nobody loves me But everybody's got a whole story And new York's disgusting because of it How troublesome I don't have time for your politics It's a mind game but there's no reward, Or honor in it After all, when tied up in the court process And pretending the noise was not a problem And I should be so lucky In a luxury apartment Coming out of a homeless shelter But it's almost been just as horrible As other black girls trying to pull my hair out Having screaming pigs and ugly men on motorcycles Drive in circles Wearing jackets that say “I have to do this, cause Jack says” And whoever Jack is writes them pychecks Except Since it politics He might even be getting over considering Passion fuels the utmost violence And in this case Imm supposed to be the only one To go about it All the paperwork and recordings But really I don't want to Even if it earns a millions dollars In the name of God It wasn't my problem Unless I am one And otherwise, These men are sick And making people sick Is just their business I need no medication I need an new apartment But how awful my country supports that I just don't deserve one Under the circumstances But the white man Lives on borrowed time In bloodshed On stolen land Regardless of color The illusion of power Is almost over And what's more is Your only army Is considering going home (Post mortem) Considering going to God Who must have lost control just enough To cause all of the apocalypse Put the whole world in a mental hospital And lock them up for dollars and cents Unless the good drugs make sense For the blondes and the beautiful The rest of them are problems Who can go to rot, I suppose. The rest of us are unwanted colored problems Can't stay here But the kids at the music school are fake nice And I'm done pulling my heart out And scratching my eyes out Just fucking trying Just fucking trying What is the point Of being in a prison For people who love oceans and trees And decent people? There's no one in New York to really love But babies and dogs And the whole world is horrible just knowing that I don't want to do anything but die Every time I ride the subway I wish I was white From the way that that white folks treat me And I wish I was blonde Because blondes seem to have it so fucking easy It's hard to believe I'm furious, furious Aren't you curious, curious how I got here? I'm serious, serious You should let me in, let me in I'm serious, serious You should have let me in, let me in Is he okay, Is he okay? Now I'm David Grohl on the whole retrospective Now I'm an old rockstar with some world left Now I know I'm the one with the mother gone Now I know, Now I know Now I know… That I don't Overall, I don't Somebody new Somebody grain and l steaming Somebody hidden and secret and wishing well Wishing well in Hell Or midtown Manhattan Or middle man Or Middle East Or Midwest Or just middle Somewhere else I, Learned to live her Learn to live here— Feeling better Feeling worn out, Look at this disgusting place Now where I live matches how I feel Going here from there, and four to five And no matter what I take the L, But it's jail and the guards are on motorcycles Controlling your thoughts for a zoning war I have heard of her And from earth to the core of our other outer planets, Further species, I know I've been here before, But on some shore I'm surfing So sure I did something wrong I don't want to know her But j don't know what other force of nature Might have caused this Caution The cautionary tale is coming Sure I never know what the other God wrote But I'm not living God, I'm a problem woman at the moment We're all technically free people, Not actually incarcerated But when it comes to wealth and racism, hatred You better bet we're all slaves And they not even Jesus can save us Even if he makes it in time, And the thing is with this one, Time precedes even his own existence Sorry my brother They want the war here I've got a heart for honor and honesty and hard word But no one seems to care or notice Not at all No one even knows my name And no one even offers a spot on the bus Or a quick dollar. What it means To be so tired That by the time you're back All you do is watch And try not to reflect On the ugly and awkward Imagine all the time in the world To be nothing but God and go Golfing. And be perfect, a woman Whatever you chose to do is the whole of it And no one can own you, Besides for on paper You government name has betrayed you, they say Your government name has betrayed you. Do you know how good you look? Not goof enough to get a good one Do you know how much medication it makes To make meditation the start of you day I've run all out of energy And the vampires seem to think That's what's wrong with me Altoigh I'm the one feeding these creatures Thats okay Lately, I have more than I need They can trim the fat And take all the hard stuff Till I become one of them And they start to wonder What the fuck is wrong with all of us I left my light at home, sufererer— I should be surfing, But I'm writing psalms and songbooks Fawning over songbirds and beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful genetic weapons One day I'll become her I'm not supposed to say the most l Or really anything at all And it all hurts But we're all here And I'll kill my self one day Probably right here, near this station If not in it Who brought a trouser pantsuit to the apocalypse Cryptic, these runes, But I can decipher it I want a dolphin, a dolphin, a dolphin I want to love them all But to all of them I'm hopeless I can't help falling for I'm not the one to hold on, m I l [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright The Festival Project, Inc. ™ & The Complex Collective © 2015-2025 All Rights Reserved

Shake hands with your guest; Monologue, monologue smug smirk Make good face– Now put a name to the face Put a time to the place IOh, all the love in the world in three flames All the doves in the flock, And three flames Put a name to the face Monologue monologue Doesnt take long but When do i get to slap the desk? Johnny! What happened? Whats the 10 vodkas, Five spritzers Full figure Figure this You were out for the count! Do tell! Or better yet, don't. I remember tgis mologue, But i dont know how 16 hours ago, I was Out for the count, you say?! OUT, Johnny! Our market is livid! lol who plays john carson Your mother. YO! I'M OLD! I LIKE OLD DUDES NOW! I'm like When the fuck did this happen?! That ain't no SILVER FOX! That's a TOTALLY CUTE DUDE! HE'S 55!! OH NOOOOOOOO! i'M OLD!!!!!!! its wednesday eve in Boston Mass… SETH MEYERS! Ah, he's going for it. Ah, man. SHOW ME YOUR EYES. Fuck. SHOW ME YOUR EYES! SUDAKIS shines a bright flash light into his former colleagues eyes. …You're not Seth Meyers. Seth Meyers does not respond, but relaxes slightly; it's obviously not safe to be Seth Meyers right now. Where's Seth Meyers? Seth shrugs but still doesn't say anything– Where is he? I have to stop here; Cop out for body language somebody's watching Somebody knows who I am I am I remember now You looked like that It went like this: I moved the world The need was good The love was gone The vein was split open And broken No fair Also, no omletts 60 minutes 60 years and 60 second clips 60 second glimpses 60 men on television but really, my attention just centers on Around ten of them or so And believe it or not, I care approach. Believe it or not, I care Or don't! –or don't! Johnny! You don't get it! You missed a show! THE tonight show! We are fucked! we are NOT! youre still sauced. I'll just take the car! What car!? Now that JOHNNY CARSON knows his Delorean can time travel, he's absolutely unstoppable. Unfortunately, it appears his delorean has been switched with a regular one– If I shoot you in your forehead? I'd rather that, than this. And I kiss you in your temple? Dear templeton, my simpleton's i'll die I desire. A wicked want. And then? A callous shadow, If i may, To bear for nothing, But a mirror This is our concept And wilted her e the flower does grow the flame The faming true and ache of lust and there For our want a jasper shore and emerald cascades there you are, And there you'll find The wave beyond the peaking break where great white sharks reside But do not wade to shallow waters; And there you find peace, And there you find certainty But now, And here, is war And fortune not but seeks truth in the gaze And for fear there does not live, but hides instead the truth that seeks to guide the lite, And yet does know our trust And there does find the faith, Forward and not Upwards and back Arrow and arrow Truth and sparrow Wreaking and wretched thoughts And the rope does hang high and solemn Looking, leap and gasp For I fall but did not land I pulled for you, I weep, my shadow, The two of diamonds, the Ace of spades, The Three of Hearts, Without my shadow I weep. I know for you nothing but conscious and knowing and needing and fated departure. I know for you nothing but chakras and eyesight and shadows and foresight. I need fo you nothing but want and by conscious, departure For nothing I want you, I weep. Sorrow. On approach of danger, The knowing, On seeth did gather, the sinking ritual the carried tribes in ships tied, weaving strings The spider bites hard And she stole my love twice And she stole my love always And she stole my love Lighting my light wit blue eyes The deception If love could be stolen at all But if not Then not love for seeking is finding and gathered had hunted And truth in forbearer Forbearance and otherwords, Shadows and shattered and ferris wheels, Now forward Gathered here for are I trust And be dismayed for you have faltered You have failures and you have cast us out of these things thinking We have not made them for you And still we seek to gather with you And here does forshadow your making Our promise to come as ones, Not as Gods, But as others, you cast out. Now, with your wicked ways and cruel be done, for sure the tables have turn, one And the gallows have not wandered far, Barrels of guns and barbells bottles and hearts of three reading cards and wanting none but justice Is he and she who are I now Begin to run from your pitied structure And there in the gasping cruelness of seeking from warcrimes this, come what may, Moving and seeking, For seeking is finding, And run, my legs have come far But trust, my dove, My wings have too, sprouted An honor, an honor one candle and three wicks Three candles and three worlds over One world and one building and still far from under the Hollywoodland Crickets sounding The Hollywood Sign Still standing and here I am not, Blades of grass And who are I now Of that which you balk at Look, ponder Go, far asunder And wish now had you not What I am is that, Run Temper temper. Mind your business. Is it gathered? To burn, or burden? Gathered. Gathered here. Then here ive wandered. To stake? Argue. I will not. And I will not. Wiry bird, From where you flown i do ponder– re d with spirit and wilding eyes, Narrow server and paring wires; I do not wish to know you now or ever, But only as bird that does golden remember. The love has not gone, And instead lives in my throat, And twists in my lungs, Ans sits in my tongue, Not as speech, or whispers, But tragedy. Unknowing this, my tender being It can never be, the nervous hill And rolling down the hill as if The weel of time itself, Not unbroken, but resilient; In sll ways, meant to tear And turn, And wobble Made for terrain for which our eyes have known And our minds have built And hands molded wiith clay, The bodies whole of all our galaxies terra feighn Terra fine Terra wept tears of a clown, And iron And veins And shadows And plays, And secrets , And whispers And truth And far And Afters. I taste a saline drip, I swallow, Suddenly cold and all the knowing that What I was, I surely already am again And what I will be, Has already come and past. The monologue, I do remember Face to a name and none to forget Well rehearsed forager! Well done bayonet! Well done, my shadow For my time is coming to wander to night And never today again for it shall never Today again, And Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow. [The Festival Project ™ ] They said he would destroy me. …Ya'll were right. that fucked me up. {Enter The Multiverse} So…forfeit? Something tells me its not over The heavy heart is shattered But also tied to that which appears to come upward As if on air To be heavy And lighthearted at once– A shadow above a balloon. A rock is attached to a kite– A diamond becomes a bassoon, Then a vampire bat, and then Cut ties. In the fourth act, we all die, and now– A revival. I was crucified, But i was also suicidal so. Lets just call it a tie. L E G E N D S V.O. Crusher. My show was being subliminally plugged on at least two of the five major networks. Safe bet I could make it a third, but I didn't know where to check. I did…but didn't want to. There was much beyond the surface, Darkness in the glimmering eyes of the men in ties and uniformed suits. I was sure I was tied to something– And since I didn't know why, Or to what, The best bet I'm all in. Fuck. Was to stay broken, Under the radar, Hidden, and most importantly– Unspoken. These days. I kept more to myself than I could with the world– As it turned out… No, not yet. What do you mean? It's not time yet. They'll have to know. But not yet. At some point, they'll have to know. But not–yet. No time like the present. You made that up. Because you made up time. And it's stupid. This is ruthless. And again–they'll have to learn somehow. But not now. The sun sets at noon on our side, and still 21 hours of dark time. Did I have another tag to throw on it this? No. Are you sure? Doesn't the new series have a subtitle? No. Is it not “quantum force” That's only one, though. What's the difference. ERMO, DON'T! I'm gonna kill him! BIG BOYD, DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT! DOn't tell me what to DO. Wow. of course. Well yeah, they're not going to let me do– LAWYERS No. Any of this stuff with the actual muppets. You're wasting precious time! GET BACK IN YOUR HOLE, RED. ok, where does it– {cut to black} Learning to assimilate and readily avalible What's next A vape to calm the nerves? What's next? A hero fighting for relevance in corporate structure. Sure, some would pay to dress an avatar But I've run out of water before I try to laugh and roll with the punches This is work and not fun for me This is not social, it's business I am not person, I'm product. Go on a walk, and look the part I took the oath, I shed the blood— Cruxes. This is a bad idea, Mark. Fuck you. All my ideas are great. MARK WAHLBERG enters the cooridor and opens the metal double doors, revealing two l jet skis on a trailer hitched to a 4X4 monster truck. [The Festival Project ™] I'm telling you. You got to get yourself one of these. I don't know, Bob, how does it work? BOB odenkirk opens a large, obscure black bag that's nearly half his own size by way of one way zipper. I'll show you. {Enter The Multiverse} JOHNNY CARSON has been in the DRUNK TANK for the maximum allowance, 48 hours, yet his blood alcohol level still reads 3 times over the legal limit. He is transferred to DETOX as the mysterious circumstances surrounding his car accident, and then the apparent disappearance of his entire “car” a (then) brand-new DeLorean from the scene of the crime, MR. CARSON insists on his lawyer, who under no circumstances seems to exist at all being present. The exact year of his whereabouts are still unknown. Still an hour to the test And I hate myself again Milk and cookies, hit the bed Shut it down, yo Shut it down. DIPLO arrives via HELIPAD to an secret location; a sniper squad of the adversary team watches from an adjacent rooftop via binoculars. …hey. Whaddup. You say diplo's on that list? Yeah. Yo… …There he is. In your sight? Yep. Shoot that motherfucker! …I can't. Why not? He's like— Just shoot, fool. —he's like holding something. So? I don't know what; it just seems— What the fuck, dawg. It just seems important. Let me see. Look. [ESSE looks down the sights and zooms to see DIPLO is holding an object firmly in his grasp. He appears to be twirling it purposefully as he conversates wi th associate.] Yeah! Get em! Shoot that motherfucker! Where the hell have you been? In my fuckpad. Where the hell is that? You haven't seen my fuckpad? What even is that. It's ballin. Whatever, dog. Did you get the— Shh. Why else would I be here? [beat] You look— did you cut your hair or something. You're so redundant. Yo shoot that motherfucker. What are you waiting for?! He's right there? Apparently, we've been building to this moment from another dimension in from another point in the series? I thought— {Enter The Multiverse} HEHEHEHE. HEY! Relax. NO. This party is OUT of control. SOMEBODY GO GET QUESTLOVE OUT THAT TREE. HAH! Shutup. NIGGA GET THE FUCK UP OUTTA DAT TREE. _____ Some party. I guess. Why is Questlove in a tree. I don't know. That party is pretty wild. This is insane. _ NIGGA GET THE FUCK OUT THE TREE. _ YO. where are you AT. I'm at the kiosk. You're not at the kiosk! I'm at the kiosk! It's probably another kiosk, then. What! [he walks a few feet. There is indeed another kiosk; upon further investigation, there is a kiosk every few feet.] What! I gotta go. My phone's about to– Hello. [Everywhere is kiosks. This is frustrating.] Dammit. WHAT. {Enter The Multiverse] A very large prized pig is captured and literally hogtied, however–this is a challenge. The pig, while beautiful, is also humongous–and appears to understand that he is being pignapped. Why would I tel the whole story When no one loves me If I had a gun, Well, I would be gone already? Why trek to Alaska For thousands of dollars To come home to no one and nobody But rotten corpses on motorcycles Where it just starts over But now you're poorer. I want to die But I want to see my son again. He's not suffering, I am But starting to resent what he doesn't understand. To the world I'm a horrible mother But no one quite knows the half of it but God And the whole problem is what is not God in the world Is all for the other's purpose. Some probably respect I was punched In front of my son And then wonder's why At some point I could no longer Hold on Insomniac So someone should go slam the door when I ponder my own thoughts I'd probably walk off a walk on roll I don't lock up no more I just go out Knowing government drones probably watch And turn over the apartment As I'm out trying to own a home But of course, nothing I do in the world is of value And I'm no one No one at all in New York and the options are Where I don't want to be Or in Saint Monica homeless. I'd get a dog if I wanted to walk it But since I don't I just sit with a plush in my lap Who I call “Gus” And it purposeless But otherwise meaningful Since from here and now And otherwise Nobody has ever loved me As much as my mother And that's saying something If you knew the whole story So no one has loved me romantically; Almost all my life was a horror show Until I started to grow up With the knowing that probably Nothing I do could be more than wrong So doing nothing becomes the hard part When all I watch are stars And I'm just not one Then again, you know It was that word That threw the first punch And then over and over And over and over And nobody loves me But everybody's got a whole story And new York's disgusting because of it How troublesome I don't have time for your politics It's a mind game but there's no reward, Or honor in it After all, when tied up in the court process And pretending the noise was not a problem And I should be so lucky In a luxury apartment Coming out of a homeless shelter But it's almost been just as horrible As other black girls trying to pull my hair out Having screaming pigs and ugly men on motorcycles Drive in circles Wearing jackets that say “I have to do this, cause Jack says” And whoever Jack is writes them pychecks Except Since it politics He might even be getting over considering Passion fuels the utmost violence And in this case Imm supposed to be the only one To go about it All the paperwork and recordings But really I don't want to Even if it earns a millions dollars In the name of God It wasn't my problem Unless I am one And otherwise, These men are sick And making people sick Is just their business I need no medication I need an new apartment But how awful my country supports that I just don't deserve one Under the circumstances But the white man Lives on borrowed time In bloodshed On stolen land Regardless of color The illusion of power Is almost over And what's more is Your only army Is considering going home (Post mortem) Considering going to God Who must have lost control just enough To cause all of the apocalypse Put the whole world in a mental hospital And lock them up for dollars and cents Unless the good drugs make sense For the blondes and the beautiful The rest of them are problems Who can go to rot, I suppose. The rest of us are unwanted colored problems Can't stay here But the kids at the music school are fake nice And I'm done pulling my heart out And scratching my eyes out Just fucking trying Just fucking trying What is the point Of being in a prison For people who love oceans and trees And decent people? There's no one in New York to really love But babies and dogs And the whole world is horrible just knowing that I don't want to do anything but die Every time I ride the subway I wish I was white From the way that that white folks treat me And I wish I was blonde Because blondes seem to have it so fucking easy It's hard to believe I'm furious, furious Aren't you curious, curious how I got here? I'm serious, serious You should let me in, let me in I'm serious, serious You should have let me in, let me in Is he okay, Is he okay? Now I'm David Grohl on the whole retrospective Now I'm an old rockstar with some world left Now I know I'm the one with the mother gone Now I know, Now I know Now I know… That I don't Overall, I don't Somebody new Somebody grain and l steaming Somebody hidden and secret and wishing well Wishing well in Hell Or midtown Manhattan Or middle man Or Middle East Or Midwest Or just middle Somewhere else I, Learned to live her Learn to live here— Feeling better Feeling worn out, Look at this disgusting place Now where I live matches how I feel Going here from there, and four to five And no matter what I take the L, But it's jail and the guards are on motorcycles Controlling your thoughts for a zoning war I have heard of her And from earth to the core of our other outer planets, Further species, I know I've been here before, But on some shore I'm surfing So sure I did something wrong I don't want to know her But j don't know what other force of nature Might have caused this Caution The cautionary tale is coming Sure I never know what the other God wrote But I'm not living God, I'm a problem woman at the moment We're all technically free people, Not actually incarcerated But when it comes to wealth and racism, hatred You better bet we're all slaves And they not even Jesus can save us Even if he makes it in time, And the thing is with this one, Time precedes even his own existence Sorry my brother They want the war here I've got a heart for honor and honesty and hard word But no one seems to care or notice Not at all No one even knows my name And no one even offers a spot on the bus Or a quick dollar. What it means To be so tired That by the time you're back All you do is watch And try not to reflect On the ugly and awkward Imagine all the time in the world To be nothing but God and go Golfing. And be perfect, a woman Whatever you chose to do is the whole of it And no one can own you, Besides for on paper You government name has betrayed you, they say Your government name has betrayed you. Do you know how good you look? Not goof enough to get a good one Do you know how much medication it makes To make meditation the start of you day I've run all out of energy And the vampires seem to think That's what's wrong with me Altoigh I'm the one feeding these creatures Thats okay Lately, I have more than I need They can trim the fat And take all the hard stuff Till I become one of them And they start to wonder What the fuck is wrong with all of us I left my light at home, sufererer— I should be surfing, But I'm writing psalms and songbooks Fawning over songbirds and beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful genetic weapons One day I'll become her I'm not supposed to say the most l Or really anything at all And it all hurts But we're all here And I'll kill my self one day Probably right here, near this station If not in it Who brought a trouser pantsuit to the apocalypse Cryptic, these runes, But I can decipher it I want a dolphin, a dolphin, a dolphin I want to love them all But to all of them I'm hopeless I can't help falling for I'm not the one to hold on, m I l [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright The Festival Project, Inc. ™ & The Complex Collective © 2015-2025 All Rights Reserved

Natürlich leben aus stoischer Sicht ist estwas völlig anderes, als in hässlichen Sandalen herumzulaufen und „wir werden alle sterben!“ zu schreien. „Natur“ bezieht sich hier auf die stoische Kosmologie, die davon ausgeht, dass das Universum von Ratio/Logos regiert wird, also vernünftig ist. Dementsprechend soll sich auch der Mensch natürlich, also vernünftig (und tugendhaft) verhalten. Leichter gesagt als getan? Vielleicht, vielleicht bist du aber einfach auch nur zu faul. Das kannst du nur selbst beurteilen. Jedenfalls führt aus stoischer Sicht der Weg zum Glück eben nicht über die Suche nach Glück (was kindisch und irrational wäre), sondern über ein natürliches und tugendhaftes Leben.Imm im Wechsel mit dem öffentlichen Podcast auf Spotify, Apple, Amazon und Co. erscheint der exklusive Podcast nur für Supporter auf https://www.patreon.com/c/bellberg Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Natürlich leben aus stoischer Sicht ist estwas völlig anderes, als in hässlichen Sandalen herumzulaufen und „wir werden alle sterben!“ zu schreien. „Natur“ bezieht sich hier auf die stoische Kosmologie, die davon ausgeht, dass das Universum von Ratio/Logos regiert wird, also vernünftig ist. Dementsprechend soll sich auch der Mensch natürlich, also vernünftig (und tugendhaft) verhalten. Leichter gesagt als getan? Vielleicht, vielleicht bist du aber einfach auch nur zu faul. Das kannst du nur selbst beurteilen. Jedenfalls führt aus stoischer Sicht der Weg zum Glück eben nicht über die Suche nach Glück (was kindisch und irrational wäre), sondern über ein natürliches und tugendhaftes Leben.Imm im Wechsel mit dem öffentlichen Podcast auf Spotify, Apple, Amazon und Co. erscheint der exklusive Podcast nur für Supporter auf https://www.patreon.com/c/bellberg Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Fléau de la drogue : le Centre de Terre-Rouge exige des actions immédiates by TOPFM MAURITIUS

In the latest episode of #IMM, Christine and Madison speak with Bradley Chambers, Author and Podcast Host for 9To5Mac.

Vor einem Jahr startete erstmals eine Ariane-6. Im März beförderte Europas neue Großrakete einen französischen Militärsatelliten problemlos in die Umlaufbahn. Nun beginnt der Routinebetrieb, sofern die „Massenproduktion“ gelingt. Lorenzen, Dirk www.deutschlandfunk.de, Sternzeit

Die aktuellen Wirtschaftsnachrichten mit Michael Weyland   Thema heute:      Deutsche Währungsgeschichte: Vor 35 Jahren verschwand die DDR-Mark - aber nicht ganz!   Es ist ein besonderes Jubiläum der deutschen Währungsgeschichte: Vor 35 Jahren, am 1. Juli 1990, wurde die D-Mark in der DDR eingeführt. Damit leitete die Währungsunion das Ende des DDR-Geldes ein. Doch die ostdeutschen Banknoten erwiesen sich als äußerst widerstandsfähig. In einer Untertageanlage bei Halberstadt in Sachsen-Anhalt eingemauert, überlebten sie noch mehr als ein Jahrzehnt. Erst zur Jahresmitte 2002 wurden die letzten Scheine von der KfW aus dem Stollensystem geholt und in einer Müllverbrennungsanlage endgültig entsorgt. Nach der Währungs-, Wirtschafts- und Sozialunion im Sommer 1990 war die Staatsbank Berlin zunächst als Nachfolgerin der Zentral- und Notenbank der DDR für die Entsorgung der nicht mehr gültigen Bargeldbestände verantwortlich. Das Münzgeld wurde zur Metallgewinnung eingeschmolzen und an die Industrie verkauft. Rund 3.000 Tonnen ungültige DDR-Banknoten mit einem Nennwert von mehr als 100 Milliarden Ost-Mark hingegen wurden in den unterirdischen Stollen einer Untertageanlage in Halberstadt (Sachsen-Anhalt) eingelagert, um dort zu verrotten. Die KfW war damals nicht involviert, wurde aber 1994 nach der Fusion mit der Staatsbank Berlin deren Rechtsnachfolgerin und somit Eigentümerin der eingelagerten DDR-Banknoten. Bis zum Jahr 2001 gab es bei den regelmäßigen Kontrollen keine Zweifel an der Sicherheit der Einlagerungssituation. Nach einem Einbruch in den Stollen im Juli 2001 zeigte sich jedoch, dass das DDR-Geld bis zu diesem Zeitpunkt nur teilweise verrottet war.  Im März 2002 begann die KfW in Halberstadt mit der Entsorgung der Geldscheine. Dazu wurden die Stollenabschlusswände aufgebrochen und die mit Kies und Sand vermischten Banknoten aus dem insgesamt 300 Meter langen Stollen befördert. Ende Juni 2002 wurden sie in 298 LKW-Ladungen zur Müllverbrennungsanlage BKB Buschhaus transportiert und dort verbrannt. Seither gibt es keinen Anreiz mehr für Menschen, auf illegalem und gefährlichem Wege in die Untertageanlage bei Halberstadt einzudringen. Die KfW verwahrt heute in ihrem Historischen Konzernarchiv noch einen Musterbestand an Münzen und Banknoten.  Dieser einzigartige Bestand gibt einen tiefen Einblick in ein abgeschlossenes Kapitel deutscher Währungsgeschichte des 20. Jahrhunderts. Scheine aus diesem numismatischen Erbe verleiht die KfW auch immer wieder an verschiedene Museen.  Diesen Beitrag können Sie nachhören oder downloaden unter:

Richard Gearhart and Elizabeth Gearhart, co-hosts of Passage to Profit Show interview hospitality entrepreneur Dan Berger from Assemble Hospitality Group and jewelry designer Sophie McGown from EAR SASS.     In this episode, visionary entrepreneur Dan Berger shares how his journey from building multimillion-dollar startups to raising a miracle baby reshaped his view of success. He dives into the power of belonging—at work, at home, and in the businesses we build—and why today's entrepreneurs need more than just hustle to thrive. From launching Assemble Hospitality Group to empowering immigrant founders, Dan reveals how meaning, purpose, and connection fuel true growth. Read more at: https://www.danjberger.com/     When Sophie McGowan launched her jewelry brand EAR SASS during lockdown, she never imagined the Princess of Wales would one day wear her designs—let alone on World Mental Health Day to honor Sophie's late cousin. In this emotional and inspiring episode, Sophie shares how her passion for handmade jewelry turned into a booming business, the powerful story behind the “Izzy Star” earrings, and the marketing lessons she's learned while standing out in a fiercely competitive industry. Read more at:https://earsass.com/   Whether you're a seasoned entrepreneur, a startup, an inventor, an innovator, a small business or just starting your entrepreneurial journey, tune into Passage to Profit Show for compelling discussions, real-life examples, and expert advice on entrepreneurship, intellectual property, trademarks and more. Visit https://passagetoprofitshow.com/ for the latest updates and episodes. Chapters (00:00:00) - Passing to Profit(00:00:34) - Passing to Profit(00:01:32) - The Moment You Knew It Was Time to Start Your Business(00:03:05) - Sophie's Fashion Cafe(00:04:58) - Elizabeth Gearhart on Starting a Business as a Young Girl(00:08:14) - Dan Berger on Finding Belonging(00:11:58) - Assemble Hospitality Group: A Place to Get Away and Work(00:17:01) - How to Start a Business Without a Capital(00:20:05) - How to Start a Business With an Imm(00:22:43) - Do You Need Coachability?(00:26:25) - IP in the News: Amazon's AI Content Deal(00:28:44) - Home Warranty and Car Insurance(00:32:00) - Elizabeth Spotlight: What's Up?(00:34:37) - AI in Medical Practice(00:35:45) - Sophie McGowan on Starting a Jewelry Company(00:38:40) - The jewelry designer's 'Soul' collection(00:41:05) - The Princess of Wales wears my earrings(00:47:55) - The battle for mental health in sports(00:49:18) - Eyes on Me: Giving to the World(00:53:24) - Tax Doctor: How to Get Out of Debt(00:54:47) - Top 5 Secrets of the Entrepreneurial Mind(00:56:05) - The Secret to Sophie McCabe's New Project(00:56:54) - Keep Your Powder Dry(00:57:22) - Appreciating Your Freedom as an Entrepreneur(00:59:19) - Passive to Profit

Es gibt Tage, die sind anders als andere. Freitage, die der 13. sind zum Beispiel, und vor denen man ein bisschen Bammel hat. Genauso sind da aber auch Glückstage. An denen räumt man ab, immer. Der 8. Juli ist so einer für die deutsche Fußballnationalmannschaft.

durée : 00:15:00 - Journal de 12h30 - Cécile Kohler et Jacques Paris, les deux ressortissants français détenus en Iran, ont été inculpés hier pour espionnage pour le compte d'Israël.

durée : 00:15:00 - Journal de 12h30 - Cécile Kohler et Jacques Paris, les deux ressortissants français détenus en Iran, ont été inculpés hier pour espionnage pour le compte d'Israël.

Im Kanton Schaffhausen kommt es am Sonntag zu einer Wahl, die einmalig ist in der Geschichte der Schweizer Demokratie: Im Herbst 2023 gelang Simon Stocker von der SP im bürgerlich geprägten Kanton Schaffhausen überraschend die Wahl in den Ständerat. Im März aberkannte das Bundesgericht ihm das Amt – weil er während des Wahlkampfs seinen Lebensmittelpunkt in Zürich gehabt haben soll. Nun tritt er gegen einen neuen Gegenkandidaten an: Severin Brüngger von der FDP.Was bedeutet das Urteil für zukünftige politische Wahlen in der Schweiz? Und wie wird die Neuwahl von der Stimmbevölkerung wahrgenommen? Inlandredaktorin Sabrina Bundi hat sich in der Stadt Schaffhausen an den Wahlständen der beiden Kandidaten umgehört – und erzählt in einern neuen Folge des täglichen Podcasts «Apropos» von ihren Eindrücken.Host: Mirja GabathulerGast: Sabrina BundiProduzentin: Sara SpreiterMehr zum Thema: Simon Stocker will seinen Ständeratssitz zurückPodcast «Politbüro»: Simon Stocker - Absetzung eines StänderatsWohnen an zwei Orten: Müssen nun auch andere Politiker zittern?  Unser Tagi-Spezialangebot für Podcast-Hörer:innen: tagiabo.chHabt ihr Feedback, Ideen oder Kritik zu «Apropos»? Schreibt uns an podcasts@tamedia.ch

Freiheit, zum zweiten (Du bist nicht frei) #208Freiheit – damit tun sich nicht nur die Deutschen traditionell schwer. In einer zunehmend polarisierten westlichen Welt, beobachten wir verstärkt Bestrebungen, unsere Freiheit immer weiter einzuschränken. Gruppenzugehörigkeit, politische Korrektheit, staatliche Meldestellen, zensurwütige NGOs, nicht selten mit finanzieller (und damit angstauslösender) Finanzierung durch den Staat.Am Ende stellen wir vielleicht fest: soooo frei, wie wir dachten, sind wir leider nicht. Wir beleuchten den Begriff „Freiheit“ und schauen, wo wir unfrei sind und welche Fallen auf unsere Freiheit warten.Du hast bestimmt Lust, meine unzähligen Bonus-Inhalte komplett unzensiert und mit vielen persönlichen Erfahrungen angereichert zu genießen, besuche mich also auf https://www.patreon.com/bellberg und werde jetzt Supporter, danke!Imm im Wechsel mit dem öffentlichen Podcast auf Spotify, Apple, Amazon und Co. erscheint der exklusive Podcast nur für Supporter auf https://www.patreon.com/c/bellberg Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Freiheit, zum zweiten (Du bist nicht frei) #208Freiheit – damit tun sich nicht nur die Deutschen traditionell schwer. In einer zunehmend polarisierten westlichen Welt, beobachten wir verstärkt Bestrebungen, unsere Freiheit immer weiter einzuschränken. Gruppenzugehörigkeit, politische Korrektheit, staatliche Meldestellen, zensurwütige NGOs, nicht selten mit finanzieller (und damit angstauslösender) Finanzierung durch den Staat.Am Ende stellen wir vielleicht fest: soooo frei, wie wir dachten, sind wir leider nicht. Wir beleuchten den Begriff „Freiheit“ und schauen, wo wir unfrei sind und welche Fallen auf unsere Freiheit warten.Du hast bestimmt Lust, meine unzähligen Bonus-Inhalte komplett unzensiert und mit vielen persönlichen Erfahrungen angereichert zu genießen, besuche mich also auf https://www.patreon.com/bellberg und werde jetzt Supporter, danke!Imm im Wechsel mit dem öffentlichen Podcast auf Spotify, Apple, Amazon und Co. erscheint der exklusive Podcast nur für Supporter auf https://www.patreon.com/c/bellberg Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Et si ce nouvel an hégirien était pour toi l'occasion de faire ta propre hijra intérieure ?Dans cet épisode, on se replonge dans le voyage du Prophète ﷺ… pour mieux inspirer le tien.Un départ vers plus de foi, plus de paix, plus de sens dans ton rôle de mère, d'épouse, de croyante.

Petit Landais, François à, d'aussi loin qu'il se souvienne, toujours rêvé de ballon ovale ! Emmené conjointement au golf et au rugby, il fait ses armes du côté de Saint Vincent de Tyrosse et fait immédiatement montre de qualités remarquables. Equipier premier dès ses 17 ans, il est rapidement promu Capitaine d'une US Tyrosse alors en 2ème division.En 1999, à l'âge de 20 ans, il s'engage au SU Agen, club dans lequel il passera toute sa carrière de joueur pro, et avec qui il connaitra presque toutes les émotions.Finaliste du Top 16 en 2002, titulaire de 8 capes avec le XV de France, il a pris sa retraite de joueur en 2009 non sans avoir aidé les Lot et Garonnais à remonter en Top 14.Immédiatement reconverti entraineur dans la formation Agenaise, François a ensuite pris la direction de Perpignan, avant de retrouver ses racines Tyrossaises, et il officie maintenant du côté de Clermont Ferrand.Si un adjectif peut le définir, c'est bien celui de passionné : de rugby évidemment, mais également de sport au sens large du terme, de transmission et de la culture qui est la sienne, celle des Landes, avec un attrait tout particulier pour la tauromachie.Arrivé en haut tout jeune, il a appris à se forger en traversant bien des galères. Vous allez le constater, son parcours et son état d'esprit sont réellement remarquables.Notre échange était dense et passionnant : en bref, je me suis régalé en sa compagnie !Bonne écoute !-----------------------------

Instituțiile de la Bruxelles stau în aceste zile pe un butoi cu pulbere. Aceasta după ce, la sfârșitul săptămânii trecute, Comisia Europeană a retras o propunere legislativă care viza combaterea așa-numitului „greenwashing”. O mișcare tehnică, la prima vedere – dar care ar putea avea repercusiuni politice majore. Tehnic vorbind, propunerea legislativă dorea să se asigure că afirmațiile de pe diverse etichete, cum că produsele sunt naturale sau prietenoase cu mediul, sunt exacte și pot fi justificate și verificate independent. Dar aici nu este vorba despre detalii tehnice. Problema este politică. Mai precis, de influență asupra Comisiei în sensibilul pachet legislativ al pactului verde. Mișcarea Comisiei Europene vine după ce membri din trei grupuri politice, de la dreapta până la extrema dreaptă, inclusiv PPE au cerut Comisiei să retragă legea. Ceea ce s-a și întâmplat. Deși – ca să fim exacți – mai multe state membre își exprimaseră deja opoziția. Cum ar fi Germania, Suedia și, cel mai recent, Italia. Așadar, legea ar fi fost blocată oricum, dar aceasta nu a potolit deloc spiritele. Dimpotrivă. Deputații de centru stânga și centriștii acuză Comisia Europeană că a devenit purtătorul de cuvânt al Partidului Popular European (PPE), de centru-dreapta. „Berlaymont [sediul Comisiei]  se transformă din ce în ce mai mult în sediul Partidului Popular European”, a declarat pentru Euractiv Tiemo Wölken, un eurodeputat social-democrat german, care negocia legea în numele Parlamentului European. Valérie Hayer, președinta grupului Renew Europe, citată de Politico, a estimat că „suntem în pragul unei crize instituționale”.   Dar de ce această reacție furibundă? Potrivit Politico, răspunsul ar putea consta în lunile de presiune crescândă, în care forțele de dreapta și-au folosit influența sporită la Bruxelles pentru a reduce neobosit regulile ecologice ale UE. PPE, cu sprijinul dreptei extreme, a diluat la maximum posibil legea restaurării naturi, deși n-a reușit să o blocheze cu totul, așa cum și-ar fi dorit. Tot PPE a insistat pentru relaxarea noilor norme de emisii ale vehiculelor, care ar fi însemnat o piatră de hotar pe drumul către interzicerea motoarelor cu ardere internă din 2035. Și devine tot mai vizibil că executivul de la Bruxelles se îndepărtează de Pactul Verde European, care a definit primul mandat al Ursulei von der Leyen ca președintă a Comisiei. Războiul din Ucraina și noile nevoi ale Europei în materie de apărare au mutat, desigur, atenția de la obiectivele verzi. Dar mai cu seamă, protestele fermierilor au marcat adevăratul punct de cotitură, consideră Politico. Mai pe șleau, cei din PPE nu vor să lase extrema dreaptă să profite de nemulțumiri și se afirmă drept avocații fermierilor și ai IMM-urilor afectate. Grupurile de stânga precum și centriștii își mențin însă atașementul față de obiectivele verzi și conflictul în rândul majorității care susține Comisia von der Leyen pare inevitabil. Să vedem cu ce consecințe politice. Ascultați rubrica ”Eurocronica”, cu Ovidiu Nahoi, în fiecare zi, de luni până vineri, de la 8.45 și în reluare duminica, de la 15.00, numai la RFI România

Im März-Rundbrief erzählten wir euch von dem Start eines Glaubensgrundkurses. Es waren 8 sehr intensive Wochen, von denen wir in dem aktuellen Rundbrief berichten möchten. Wir durften noch einmal ganz praktisch erleben: Unser Gott ist ein wunderbarer Gott. Viel Freude beim Hören. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Im März 2011 verlor der Schauspieler Wanja Mues bei einem tragischen Verkehrsunfall seine Eltern. Sibylle und Dietmar Mues, selbst ein bekannter Schauspieler, wurden tödlich verletzt, als ein unter Drogeneinfluss stehender Autofahrer in eine wartende Fußgängergruppe raste. "Der Tod unserer Eltern hat uns natürlich nochmal total zusammengeschweißt", erzählt Mues in der neuen Folge des Podcasts "Feel Hamburg". Als ältester Bruder übernahm er viele Entscheidungen - "natürlich immer in Rücksprache und mit der moralischen und tatkräftigen Unterstützung meiner Brüder und aller Freunde und Verwandten, die uns in der Zeit zur Seite standen." Er berichtet von einer beeindruckenden Hilfsbereitschaft, die die Familie durch die erste Zeit getragen hat. Auch das anschließende Gerichtsverfahren gegen den Unfallfahrer beeindruckte die drei Brüder Wanja, Woody und Jona Mues nachhaltig. Es ging nicht nur um Schuld, sondern auch um den Umgang mit Verantwortung - und Vergebung. "Ich glaube, wir hätten ihm vergeben können, wenn er darum gebeten hätte", sagt Wanja Mues rückblickend. "Aber da kam nur eine verlesene, halbherzige Entschuldigung, die nicht an uns gerichtet war, sondern eher allgemein war - und uns auch nicht erreicht hat." Daniel Kaiser und Wanja Mues sprechen auch über seine Rolle als Privatermittler Leo Oswald in der ZDF-Serie "Ein Fall für zwei", in der er die Nachfolge von Claus Theo Gärtner antrat, der seine Rolle als Detektiv Matula an den Nagel gehängt hat und Wanja Mues erzählt, warum er es manchmal bereut, nicht eine Tischlerlehre gemacht zu haben. Hier geht es direkt zur Podcastempfehlung in der ARD Audiothek "OZ. Graffiti-Künstler. Schmierfink. Rebell." https://www.ardaudiothek.de/sendung/oz-graffiti-kuenstler-schmierfink-rebell/14107933/

Ez az epizód nem arról szól, hogyan kell startupot építeni. Hanem arról, hogy mi történik utána. Mi történik, ha elérted, amit kitűztél? Ha a cégedet megveszik, és pénzed is van elég. Mi hajt utána? Mire ébredsz reggel? =======

Im Münchner Residenztheater feierten die "Gschichtn vom Brandner Kasper" in einer Inszenierung von Franz Xaver Kroetz Premiere. Eine Theaterkritik von Johannes Roßteuscher. Captain Future ist zurück: Auf dem Münchner Comicfestival stellt Sylvain Runbergs seine Neuerzählung vor. Ein Porträt über den Comiczeichner von Niels Beintker. Die neue Serie von David Schalko "Warum ich?" gibt es jetzt in der ARD Mediathek zu sehen. Serienempfehlung von Knut Cordsen.

Aujourd'hui dans "Punchline", Laurence Ferrari et ses invités débattent des propos de Trump à propos du conflit entre Israël et l'Iran, exhortant l'Iran à négocier.Distribué par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.

Aujourd'hui dans "Punchline", Laurence Ferrari et ses invités débattent des propos de Trump à propos du conflit entre Israël et l'Iran, exhortant l'Iran à négocier.Distribué par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.

Im März 1945 erlebte Zweibrücken eine seiner schwersten Zeiten. In nur wenigen Minuten wurde die alte Herzogstadt fast vollständig zerstört. In dieser Episode rekonstruiert Florian den Ablauf jener Minuten, in denen die Bomben fielen. Zwischen den Trümmern der Vergangenheit suchen wir nach den Geschichten der Menschen, die diesen Angriff überlebten – und derer, die es nicht taten. Eine Reise durch Erinnerung und Mahnung, durch Verlust und die Kraft des Neubeginns.

Hätte Google lieber H100 als Mitarbeiter? Wie hängt der "Pentagon Pizza Report" mit Israels Angriff auf den Iran zusammen? Die USA und China pausieren ihren Handelskrieg. Privacy und Datenschutz sind für Meta erneut nur nice-to-have statt essenziell. SpaceX auf Kurs zu einem Unternehmenswert von 2,5 Billionen Dollar bis 2030? OpenAI plant eine strategische Kooperation mit Google und Google Search stirbt als Traffic-Quelle immer schneller. Wer kauft Snap? Unterstütze unseren Podcast und entdecke die Angebote unserer Werbepartner auf ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠doppelgaenger.io/werbung⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. Vielen Dank!  Philipp Glöckler und Philipp Klöckner sprechen heute über: (00:00:00) Autoschlüssel (00:03:05) Elon Trump (00:06:05) China Deal (00:07:00) Apple Interview (00:10:45) Meta AI (00:12:45) OpenAI (00:14:35) SpaceX (00:18:05) Slack Daten (00:20:50) Google als Traffic Quelle stirbt immer weiter (00:26:45) Wer kauft Snap Shownotes US-China deal – ft.com Salesforce blockiert KI-Rivalen von der Nutzung von Slack-Daten – theinformation.com Google Abfindungen – wsj.com ARKs erwarteter Unternehmenswert für SpaceX 2030: ~$2,5 Billionen – ark-invest.com Apple Interview – wsj.com OpenAI schließt Cloud-Deal mit Google ab – reuters.com Googles neue KI-Tools dominieren Nachrichten-Websites – wsj.com Snap plant Verkauf von leichten AR-Brillen 2026 – techcrunch.com Elon Musk bedauert Social-Media-Posts über Trump – cnbc.com CoreWeave bietet Rechenkapazität in Googles neuem Cloud-Deal mit OpenAI an – reuters.com Meta AI – x.com Meta AI– techcrunch.com Pentagon Pizza Report – x.com

In the latest episode of #IMM, Christine and Madison speak with Kyle McNulty, Host of the Secure Ventures Podcast.

Aujourd'hui dans "Punchline", Laurence Ferrari et ses invités débattent des comparutions immédiates lors des violences en marge de la finale de la Ligue des champions. Distribué par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.

La victoire du Paris Saint-Germain en finale de Ligue des champions, samedi à Munich (Allemagne), a été gâchée par des scènes de chaos à Paris et partout en France. Au total, 642 interpellations ont eu lieu sur le territoire durant tout le week-end. Lundi soir, les premières comparutions immédiates se sont tenues à Paris et sur les premiers prévenus déférés, tous sont ressortis libres.Distribué par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.

Aujourd'hui dans "Punchline", Laurence Ferrari et ses invités débattent des comparutions immédiates lors des violences en marge de la finale de la Ligue des champions. Distribué par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.

La victoire du Paris Saint-Germain en finale de Ligue des champions, samedi à Munich (Allemagne), a été gâchée par des scènes de chaos à Paris et partout en France. Au total, 642 interpellations ont eu lieu sur le territoire durant tout le week-end. Lundi soir, les premières comparutions immédiates se sont tenues à Paris et sur les premiers prévenus déférés, tous sont ressortis libres.Distribué par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.

Saïd Khatibi est né en 1984 en Algérie. Après des études à Alger et à la Sorbonne. Il devient journaliste. La fin du Sahara, roman des oubliés d'Algérie, dessine avec subtilité les contradictions d'une société à la veille d'une révolution en 1988, a remporté en 2023 le prix Sheikh Zayed, l'un des plus prestigieux du monde arabe. C'est aussi son premier roman traduit en français. Trad. de l'arabe (Algérie) par Lotfi Nia« Algérie, septembre 1988.Dans une petite ville aux portes du désert en proie à une prolifération de criquets et à une pénurie de vivres, au bord du soulèvement, on retrouve le corps de Zakia Zaghouani, la chanteuse de l'hôtel Le Sahara.Immédiatement les soupçons se portent sur son amoureux, qui est jeté en prison.Un inspecteur de police enquête. L'avocate du principal suspect également. Famille, amis et proches témoignent et se retrouvent confrontés à leur passé. Secrets, trahisons, rancunes, mais aussi rêves et espoirs éclairent leurs liens avec la victime : chacun nourrit, pour une raison ou une autre, le désir de se venger d'elle.Alors, qui a réellement tué Zakia ? Et si, derrière le meurtre de cette femme, se cachait un secret si insoutenable qu'il pourrait déchirer toute une communauté ? » (Présentation des éditions Gallimard)Illustration musicale : Dalida Salma Ya Salama (Arabic Version)

durée : 00:15:12 - Journal de 8 h - Le point dans ce journal sur la longue conversation téléphonique lundi entre Donald Trump et Vladimir Poutine consacrée à l'Ukraine. L'Ukraine où en zone occupée des prisonniers ont subi de la torture sexuelle, témoignage dans cette édition.

durée : 00:15:12 - Journal de 8 h - Le point dans ce journal sur la longue conversation téléphonique lundi entre Donald Trump et Vladimir Poutine consacrée à l'Ukraine. L'Ukraine où en zone occupée des prisonniers ont subi de la torture sexuelle, témoignage dans cette édition.

durée : 00:15:12 - Journal de 8 h - Le point dans ce journal sur la longue conversation téléphonique lundi entre Donald Trump et Vladimir Poutine consacrée à l'Ukraine. L'Ukraine où en zone occupée des prisonniers ont subi de la torture sexuelle, témoignage dans cette édition.

On continue le débrief de la Draft des 32 équipes ! Au programme aujourd'hui, les Seattle Seahawks.Après l'arrivée de Sam Darnold à la free agency, les Seahawks devaient lui donner de l'aide. Ont-ils réussi cette mission ? Mais, surtout, avec Nick Emmanwori, Mike McDonald a peut-être trouvé un futur leader en défense.Le meilleur choix, le plus mauvais, le plus intrigant, tous ces choix vont être analysés par Antoine Ajavon et Nithinya Simuong au micro.Bonne écoute ! Become a member at https://plus.acast.com/s/touchdown-actu-nfl-podcast. Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.

Höchste Zeit, dass Esel, Hund, Katze und Hahn in Bremen ankommen! Im Märchen haben sie die Stadt nämlich nie erreicht. Aber in Annies und Mamas Märchen verlassen sie das Räuberhaus und machen sich auf den Weg. Ob das zu viert auf einem Fahrrad klappt? (Eine Geschichte von Anna Lott, erzählt von Sonja Hurani)

Sienna Jackson, the CEO of Nortera.io, walks us through her unexpected shift from entertainment executive to impact strategist. Rather than chasing a title, she followed a thread—registering an LLC, collecting ideas, and finally stepping into work that aligned with her values. Now, she's helping professionalize the field of social impact by focusing on measurable outcomes, not slogans. From impact modeling to cross-sector coalitions, Sienna shows how complex change starts behind the scenes—with better systems, shared language, and a refusal to settle for surface-level good.Key Highlights of Our Interview:When Pivoting Isn't a Plan—but a Pattern“I just said, ‘I'm doing social impact now.' But it was a pattern—an arc I had been on for a while.”She slowly started buying domains, registering an LLC, and collecting ideas. By 2020, she sent one email—“I'm doing social impact now”—and launched into a new chapter that was already quietly in motion. Why ‘Impact' Needs More Than Good Intentions“Impact is the net positive change rendered as a direct and material result of your actions.”She calls out the performative fluff in corporate social messaging—empty slogans with no metrics behind them. Building the Back-End of Good“I learned about logic models, stakeholder analysis, systems mapping… It's data modeling, it's survey design.”Armed with two master's degrees, Sienna dove deep into IMM—impact management and measurement. She joined Social Value US to help professionalize the field with standards, surveys, and frameworks. Coalitions, Not Silos“The left hand often doesn't know what the right hand is doing. I see my role as making connections.”Sienna flags a recurring problem: siloed thinking. Her strength lies in speaking both, creating coalitions where collaboration and systems alignment make real change possible.Everyone Has a Piece of the Puzzle  “Go find the people who are already doing the work—and support them. That's where the results come from.”You don't have to start the movement; just roll up your sleeves and help those already in it. ___________________________Connect with us:Host: Vince Chan | Guest: Sienna Jackson  --Chief Change Officer--Change Ambitiously. Outgrow Yourself.Open a World of Expansive Human Intelligencefor Transformation Gurus, Black Sheep,Unsung Visionaries & Bold Hearts.EdTech Leadership Awards 2025 Finalist.18 Million+ All-Time Downloads.80+ Countries Reached Daily.Global Top 1.5% Podcast.Top 10 US Business.Top 1 US Careers.>>>170,000+ are outgrowing. Act Today.