Podcast appearances and mentions of marshall mathers

We begin this show with a discussion of Peter Billingsley working with the Raising Canes Foundation this holiday season. Peter famously played Ralphie in the classic holiday film A Christmas Story. Peter has loaned a few of his items from his personal collection, including the Red Rider BB Gun and the Pink Bunny Suit to Raising Canes for the chicken restaurant to showcase in their Time Square NYC location to raise awareness for their charity and foundation work. Other segments include; The Marshal Mathers Foundation helped more than 1200 children in the Detroit area this holiday season. Eminem, aka Marshall Mathers, has donated more than $200,000 in the last 2 years to the Wolverine Human Services to help needy children in Michigan; An 88 year old Army Vet who works at a grocery store went viral, and strangers from across the country donated more than $1.3 million for the gentleman to finally be able to retire; and more.

What if success was less about status and more about gratitude, service, and love? In this Unstoppable Mindset conversation, I talk with strategist and social media influencer Cynthia Washington about climbing and then stepping away from the corporate ladder, choosing a “socio economic experiment” that stripped life back to the basics, and discovering what really matters. You'll hear how growing up in Pasadena, studying at Cal Poly Pomona and Columbia Business School, and working with brands like Enterprise and Zions Bank all led Cynthia to a life centered on emotional intelligence, mentoring young women in tech, and leading with heart. I believe you'll come away seeing gratitude, leadership, and your own potential to be unstoppable in a very different light. Highlights: 00:09 – Explore how early life experiences influence the values that guide personal and professional growth.02:59 – Learn how changing direction can uncover the strengths that shape long-term leadership.05:29 – See how pivotal transitions help define a clearer sense of purpose.10:07 – Discover what stepping away from convention reveals about identity and success.20:05 – Reflect on how redefining success can shift your entire approach to work and life.22:13 – Learn how a grounded mindset practice strengthens resilience and clarity.34:25 – Explore how personal evolution can grow into a mission to empower the next generation.59:11 – Gain a new perspective on how we perceive ability, inclusion, and human potential. About the Guest: Cynthia Washington: Bridging Societal Gaps Through Leadership, Influence, and Love Cynthia Washington is an accomplished business professional, an award-winning leader, and international influencer whose life and career embodies resilience, vision, and compassion.  While studying at Columbia University, she embarked on a socio-economic experiment, which became her reality, highlighting her journey across her social media platforms in hope of sharing her deep commitment to bridge societal gaps and create a better world—one love style, one courageous step at a time.  A proud Park City local of more than twenty years, Cynthia's story begins in Southern California, where she grew up between the San Gabriel Mountains and the beaches of Malibu.  Her cousins called her “Malibu Barbie,” and her stepbrother called her “Love.”  Rooted in her values and guided by her heart, Cynthia's story is not only one of success but of transformation—a legacy driven by her belief that we deserve better. Cynthia leads with integrity and authenticity. She continues to expand her global network of leadership, uniting hearts and minds to inspire lasting, positive change on the right side of history with a framework of faith, family and fun that is built on a foundation of love, kindness, compassion and a hope for peace. One Love, Bob Marley style. Professionally, Cynthia Washington stands at the intersection of strategy, leadership, and emotional intelligence. An agile and results-driven leader, she has distinguished herself through her ability to combine quantitative intuition with deep empathy—qualities that make her both a visionary and a unifier. Known for her collaborative leadership style, she excels in developing teams, leading organizational change, and driving sales performance across diverse industries. Her strategic mindset and exceptional communication skills have made her a trusted partner to executives and innovators alike. Cynthia's work fosters meaningful engagement between employees and senior leaders, helping organizations align vision with values. Through her global portfolio of projects, she has sharpened her expertise in marketing, leadership development, and brand transformation, helping companies from Park City to Silicon Slopes and across international markets thrive. Her career is a testament to excellence, purpose, and adaptability—qualities that have earned her numerous accolades and the respect of peers worldwide. Among her many achievements, Cynthia was honored as a SheTech Champion Impact Award Recipient at the Women Tech Awards, celebrating her leadership, mentorship, and dedication to empowering young women in technology. For more than five years, she has stood alongside thousands of high school students—mentoring, volunteering, and serving as a role model for the next generation of innovators. Motivated by her desire to create a better world for her daughter, she embarked on what she lovingly calls her “mom mission”—a service journey dedicated to making her community and the world around her better. During her sabbatical from Silicon Valley into this transformative period, Cynthia launched LVL UP with CW, her brand, leveraging her expertise to help local and global businesses grow, evolve, and thrive. As an international social media influencer, she has used her platform not for fame or recognition, but for global impact, sharing messages of resilience, hope, and empowerment. This work is a lesson of intersectionality and bridges the worlds of fashion, sports, philanthropy, business, money, technology, spirituality, global preservation, health and wellness in hopes of leveling up and shifting the societal norms. She has partnered with brands across industries to elevate visibility, deepen engagement, and build authentic customer connections. Through brand ambassador relationships, social media management, and content creation, Cynthia has amplified voices, strengthened communities, and showcased how influence, when rooted in integrity, is a force for good. That same belief shines through in Cynthia Washington's powerful memoir, Mind Matters: The Story of My Life. Written during her sabbatical, the respectfully honest memoir captures her life's “grind with grit” story. The cover, graced by her daughter's original artwork, wraps her book with a big thank you hug, encapsulating the power of love that anchors Cynthia's bold voyage.  Mind Matters explores her corporate climb and fall, her studies at Columbia University, her travels across the United States with her daughter, the Aloha spirit of Hawaii, and her experiences in Hollywood and the music industry. Interwoven through these chapters are stories of friendship, including her personal connections with cultural icons like Eminem and Kobe Bryant, whose wisdom and creativity shaped what Cynthia calls The Trifecta - a guiding philosophy built on Kobe's Mamba Mentality, the music of Eminem, and her own life's work. Three forces that together drive her vision and her ability to live her socio-economic experiment proving money is a tool and the real power is in the mind. “You can do anything you set your mind to, man” - Eminem Mind Matters: The Story of My Life is available on Amazon and other major online retailers and can also be ordered through local bookstores. The memoir has been nominated for The Eric Hoffer Award for Excellence in Independent Publishing, a recognition of both its literary merit and its heartfelt message of perseverance. Yet, true to her character, Cynthia did not embark on this journey for fame or recognition—she wrote it to give back, to inspire, and to remind readers everywhere that no matter where you come from, with a healthy positive mindset you too can change the trajectory of your life. Beyond her work as an author and international leader, Cynthia lives a simple life.  She is a mom, a trailblazer, and an advocate, representing many initiatives that level up society and bridge societal gaps. She turned her pain into her strength and used that as fuel to ignite a movement.  Her heart is full of gratitude for all the bands and their aid, as they played a meaningful role in inspiring the Band Aid, a global movement for unity and peace that emerged during a time when the world needed hope most. A true Band Aid. Ways to connect with Cynthia**:** Instagram https://www.instagram.com/misscdub Linkedin  https://www.linkedin.com/in/cynthia-washington-1b13a265 Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Mind-Matters-Story-My-Life/dp/B0DJRPQTY2 About the Host: Michael Hingson is a New York Times best-selling author, international lecturer, and Chief Vision Officer for accessiBe. Michael, blind since birth, survived the 9/11 attacks with the help of his guide dog Roselle. This story is the subject of his best-selling book, Thunder Dog. Michael gives over 100 presentations around the world each year speaking to influential groups such as Exxon Mobile, AT&T, Federal Express, Scripps College, Rutgers University, Children's Hospital, and the American Red Cross just to name a few. He is Ambassador for the National Braille Literacy Campaign for the National Federation of the Blind and also serves as Ambassador for the American Humane Association's 2012 Hero Dog Awards. https://michaelhingson.com https://www.facebook.com/michael.hingson.author.speaker/ https://twitter.com/mhingson https://www.youtube.com/user/mhingson https://www.linkedin.com/in/michaelhingson/ accessiBe Links https://accessibe.com/ https://www.youtube.com/c/accessiBe https://www.linkedin.com/company/accessibe/mycompany/ https://www.facebook.com/accessibe/ Thanks for listening! Thanks so much for listening to our podcast! If you enjoyed this episode and think that others could benefit from listening, please share it using the social media buttons on this page. Do you have some feedback or questions about this episode? Leave a comment in the section below! Subscribe to the podcast If you would like to get automatic updates of new podcast episodes, you can subscribe to the podcast on Apple Podcasts or Stitcher. You can subscribe in your favorite podcast app. You can also support our podcast through our tip jar https://tips.pinecast.com/jar/unstoppable-mindset . Leave us an Apple Podcasts review Ratings and reviews from our listeners are extremely valuable to us and greatly appreciated. They help our podcast rank higher on Apple Podcasts, which exposes our show to more awesome listeners like you. If you have a minute, please leave an honest review on Apple Podcasts. Transcription Notes: Michael Hingson  00:00 Access Cast and accessiBe Initiative presents Unstoppable Mindset. The podcast where inclusion, diversity and the unexpected meet. Hi, I'm Michael Hingson, Chief Vision Officer for accessiBe and the author of the number one New York Times bestselling book, Thunder dog, the story of a blind man, his guide dog and the triumph of trust. Thanks for joining me on my podcast as we explore our own blinding fears of inclusion unacceptance and our resistance to change. We will discover the idea that no matter the situation, or the people we encounter, our own fears, and prejudices often are our strongest barriers to moving forward. The unstoppable mindset podcast is sponsored by accessiBe, that's a c c e s s i capital B e. Visit www.accessibe.com to learn how you can make your website accessible for persons with disabilities. And to help make the internet fully inclusive by the year 2025. Glad you dropped by we're happy to meet you and to have you here with us. Hi everyone. Welcome to another episode of unstoppable mindset. We're glad you're with us today, wherever you happen to be, hope you're having a good day, and hope that we can inspire you and make this a fun time for you as well. Our guest today is Cynthia Washington. Cynthia describes herself as standing at the intersection of strategy, leadership and an emotional intelligence, and I know that she's going to talk more about that and what what brought her to come to that conclusion, but I've been looking at her information. I think she's got a lot of interesting stuff to talk to us about, and we'll get to it. But for now, Cynthia, welcome to unstoppable mindset. We're glad you're here. Cynthia Washington  02:05 Oh, thank you, Michael. I appreciate being here and spending this time with you today, and I'm looking forward to our conversation. Michael Hingson  02:13 Well, I am as well. Well, why don't we start? I love to start this way with the the early Cynthia, if you will. Cynthia Washington  02:20 Of course, yes, the early Cynthia. I grew up in Pasadena, California, that Southern California, near the Rose Bowl in the San Gabriel Mountains. I attended an all girls private Catholic school for my seventh to 12th grades. I attended also Cal Poly Pomona, where I studied international business and marketing. And I love everything Southern California. I've always had this dream of living in Park City, and I ended up coming here in when was it 2004 so I've been here almost 21 years. Michael Hingson  03:04 So when you were at Cal Poly, did you help build the Rose Parade Float? Cynthia Washington  03:09 I did not build the Rose Parade Float, even though both Cal Poly San Luis Obispo and Cal Poly Pomona do a collaborative effort to build one every year since I grew up with the Rose Parade in my backyard, I had my own special moments with that. I always wanted to be on the Rose Parade court, and so my mom put me into a many different pageants, which helped prepare me and built my confidence so that I could be the person I am today. And I'm forever grateful for that experience like sports, it teaches you about competition, failure and set you up for success. Michael Hingson  04:05 Yes. And again, what did you study at Cal Poly, Cynthia Washington  04:10 international business and marketing? Okay, I originally started in microbiology. I had finished with the intention to become a doctor, and realized I could not stomach blood or needles, and so I quickly changed my major once I made that realization, and I changed my major to English, because I love reading Shakespeare Books. Everything is just so fascinating, fascinating about the English language and its literature. So I studied that for a little while, my father told me that I needed to do something different, and therefore I changed my major to international business and marketing. Michael Hingson  05:00 Hmm, that was different than English by any standard. Yeah. Cynthia Washington  05:06 So it was definitely different. Well, he is a businessman, a banker, and I think you know, for him, it was important for me to kind of follow in those footsteps, which I have, ironically, and I'm forever grateful for him for pushing me in a different direction, I use all three though, the science, the technology, the English and the international business skills in my current role, so, or roles, Michael Hingson  05:37 well, so you graduated. Did you go on and get any advanced degrees or just a bachelor's? Cynthia Washington  05:43 Oh, well, I did. It took me a while, too, though. I recently, in 2022 applied to Columbia University, actually Columbia Business School, and I completed their chief marketing officer executive education program with a Certificate in Business Excellence from Columbia Business School. So yes, I did eventually go back to school. However, I had a few careers in and amongst that along my path and my journey, which helped me have a more well rounded knowledge, yeah, to enter into that up advanced learning. Michael Hingson  06:35 So what did you do after you graduated from Cal Poly? Cynthia Washington  06:40 After I graduated from Cal Poly, I took a gap year, to be honest, and in that gap year, I learned so much about myself. I intersected with Hollywood for a brief moment in time, developed some really great, lasting friendships that have surpassed time. In addition to that, I skied, I snowboard, I learned to surf, and did all the things that I just needed to do as a California girl, yes, it was quite fun and bolted me into the person I am today. With that being said, I once again, had my father reminding me that it was time to get a job, and so I ventured into the management trainee program with enterprise run a car, climbed that corporate ladder, eventually having a territory from Santa Barbara to San Diego that I managed and oversaw a team inside one of our insurance partners headquarters, Which was really amazing opportunity. Then that took me, with a relocation package to Utah with my husband and our newborn baby to come and plant roots. Here he they enterprise was ahead of times in the fact that they wanted to harvest talent from different parts of the United States to strengthen the team they were building in Utah. My husband and I at the time, were part of that strategy, which was really an amazing opportunity, because I was one of a handful women managers that were brought on to the Utah team, and we were able to establish ourselves as influencers and leaders to help grow the women leadership network within Utah and Idaho for enterprise. Michael Hingson  09:14 You said, early I'm sorry. Go ahead. Go ahead. You said early on that you always wanted to go to Park City. Why was that? Sounds like, you know, you got to live your dream. But why was that? Yes. Cynthia Washington  09:26 Well, my father worked a lot, and for him to disconnect from work, we would come and visit Park City or travel to Hawaii. Well, we summer it every summer in Kauai for the month of July. So to contrast that we had time in Park City, Utah before it was what it has become, which was really fascinating. And I loved having the exposure to the Four Seasons and just the. Um, simple life that park city offered was really refreshing, coming from the hustle and bustle of Downtown LA and being in the city, it was just something I dreamt of, and I'm so grateful to have lived that dream, to be here and have to and to have raised my daughter here as well Michael Hingson  10:27 makes sense. And as I said, you now get to live your dream. You're living where you wanted to, and you've been there now for, like, 21 years, and you sound like you haven't changed your mind, you're very happy with it. Cynthia Washington  10:43 Yes, you know, my daughter's graduating college soon, and perhaps maybe I'll think of another location to move to. But for now, this is what I call home. This is where I've planted my my seeds and my roots for our little single mom family. So yeah, it's been great. Michael Hingson  11:06 Well, so you you say that you lived a social, socio economic experiment. Tell me more about what that means. Yes. Cynthia Washington  11:19 So while at Columbia University, I opted to live a socio economic experience to contrast the life that I grew up with. So as I mentioned, I attended Cal Poly, worked with enterprise, had a great career with them. When I came to Utah, I kept that career. After my divorce, I began another career at America first credit union. I saw, I saw that I needed to take a step back from the career world, and so I took a 20 hour teller position as I was figuring out my relationship with my husband and determining our next steps. And so once that was dissolved, I had this great team who saw my leadership skills and helped me climb another corporate ladder. After a few years one of my previous colleagues came to me and asked me to venture into Silicon Valley, doing business in Utah with a team, a Medicare sales team that I managed, and that was quite fascinating, talk about baptism by fire. I learned all things Medicare on the fly, and had a really amazing opportunity with that. And so I have steadily over time, climbed three different corporate ladders, made excellent income, six figures, generously raising my daughter here in Utah, and it has always been in the back of my mind to understand life from a different lens, to understand it with a different perspective. And so as a result, when I was in the Columbia application process, I had become really, really, really sick, deathly sick, I like to say I was on my death bed when I applied to Colombia because I was surviving on water and pressed juices for a little over a month, because I was having some difficulties internally. And so while I had that downtime, I had a lot of time to think, and it was important to me to apply at Columbia. Well, I originally applied to Northwestern and they recommended me to Columbia. And so when I did my Columbia application, it was important for me not to just take the northwestern recommendation, but to also set myself apart. And I thought, well, the socio economic experiment would be great at something I've been thinking about, you know, living life through a different lens. I had the savings built up so that I could do so. And I thought, Yes, I can do this. I can You can do anything you set your mind to. Quote. Eminem, I did. I did that. I lived it. I abandoned my ego, I abandoned all the luxurious items that I had, and lived this truly simple life. And it was quite fascinating, because the more I trusted that process, the more I grew and became still and trusted God's guidance in this journey that I was creating. Fast forward through the social media aspect of everything, I was reminded of some Hollywood friends that I had forgotten about, to be honest. And I don't know how you forget about them, but I did, because I never really spoke about those tender moments I had, and cherish them within my heart and my soul. But I was overcoming this really traumatic experience, a bad, bad relationship that put me into hiding, yet with being at Columbia, living the socio economic experiment and sharing my life through my social media influencer role, my Hollywood friends found me in a time of need, and through this reintroduction, I was reminded of a night I like to coin as dream night, and I call it dream night because that's the night I met Marshall Mathers, who the world knows as Eminem, and he and I were from completely different aspects of life, with completely different perspectives on life, and yet, when we met, we intersected. I was leaving Hollywood, he was coming into it, and we spent together, as silly as it sounds, playing beer pong, thinking through all of the world's problems. And in that conversation, I had mentioned that one day I was going to go to Columbia, and one day I was going to live the socio economic experiment so that I could help the world. And you know, he envisioned his dream of becoming this rap star, and together, we would reunite our forces for good to help elevate the world. And I forgot about this moment in time, to be quite honest, I just continued on a path that I naturally was creating when I was younger, because before meeting Marshall, I had met Kobe Bryant while I was a student graduating Cal Poly, and he was new, upcoming rising superstar into basketball. He had his eye on Vanessa. Her group of friends were very smart, and he knew he needed to knowledge up to get his girl. And so here I was this book smart girl, kind of hanging out in Hollywood. I had worked a job at Staples Center, because I love the Lakers, and it was really cool. I, you know, had me more court side than it did have me working because I gave away more of my tables, and I did actually work to spend time building these relationships with Kobe and the Lakers, which I'm so forever grateful for, and because Kobe recognized my book smart, his spotlight and together, we would have these Kobe talks, which ultimately built the framework for Mama mentality and my only ask of him as I exited Hollywood and that era of my life was that he named mob and mentality, mob and mentality, which he did. And so I, you know, I had. Had Mamba mentality. This up and comer rap star Eminem, who, honestly, I didn't even know was Eminem. For me, he was this guy from Detroit that I met through my friend Travis Barker, who happened to be the drummer blink, 182 but I was so unaware of all these people and who they were. They were, to me, were just people I knew and friends that I had. And, you know, fast forward to where we're at now. It's like we're all living our dreams, and it's really super cool. But the socio economic experiment came from that dream night with Marshall and this whole concept of who and how we wanted to be in this future version of ourselves and I wanted to be this socio economic experiment to understand life through a different lens, especially after meeting him that One night and hearing his life experience, my life experience that you know, it was fascinating to me, like I want, I I want to help people, but to truly help people and bridge those societal gaps that exist, Cynthia Washington  21:16 one has To have a full scope of life through all perspectives, and this opportunity through Columbia, with this experiment, positioned me to really embrace that, and now I am very happy because I think it has helped me appreciate the quality, true quality of life. You know, it's not about the money, it's not about the fame, it's not about the recognition. It's about love and family and caring and nurturing one another Michael Hingson  21:59 with and I would presume that you would say that that's what you learned from the experiment, Cynthia Washington  22:05 yes, yes, absolutely. That's what I learned. You know, here, as I was climbing all these different corporate ladders, I always thought it was about having more you know, having more money, having more things, having a bigger house, a nicer car and all this stuff, but truly abandoning all that stuff allowed me to live more because I appreciated the true moment as A gift, especially from being on my deathbed, you know, to being able to live each day to its fullest, that in and amongst itself, was a gift to me, and learning to be present for my daughter was a present for Me. And so these were all things that socio economic experiment taught me about appreciating life. Michael Hingson  23:07 So where do concepts like gratitude come into all of that? And how is gratitude help keep you centered and kind of moving forward? Cynthia Washington  23:18 Great question through this journey I've been on, I've learned to live each day with a grateful heart. I wake up daily appreciative of the moment, to be alive, regardless of what I have or what accomplishments I've achieved. I truly am thankful for the gift of life. And with that being said, I live in a spirit of Thanksgiving, not because Thanksgiving is on the horizon and the holidays grow near, but because having that gratitude rooted in my soul has helped me Stay focused on my Why stay firm in my beliefs and trust the process every step of the way, living with gratitude has just opened my Heart to the possibilities, and it's been a phenomenal growth experience. The more I give thanks, the more I give, the more I serve, the better I lead, the stronger I am, and the more abundant the blessings are. Are, and it's just truly remarkable to be this vessel for good living life with the spirit of Thanksgiving. Michael Hingson  25:12 If somebody were to ask you, how can you teach me how to really have gratitude and make it a part of my life, what? What kind of advice or what kind of guidance can you give someone to help them learn to be a person who's more grateful or have more gratitude? Wow, um, Cynthia Washington  25:33 if someone is looking to have more gratitude and develops a process in establishing more gratitude. I think it would just be to reframe your focus instead of, oh, I don't have these things, right? That's when I let go of my Louis vuittons my fancy car, and, you know, sold all my really nice clothes that you know, just to have some extra cash to accomplish more of my goals, I let go of all Those materialistic things. And instead of having the mindset of like, Oh, I'm getting rid of these things, I was I saw it as an opportunity. So I guess what I'm saying is to reframe, instead of it being like, I don't have these things, or the woe is me attitude reframe that too. I am blessed with a family, I am blessed with food, I am blessed with shelter, I am blessed with a job that provides me with stability. I am blessed with the person in the mirror who has awoken for this moment in time, awoken, awaked it has. How do you say that? Awakened, that's fine. Awakened, yeah, has awakened in this moment, you know, for another beautiful day, and then after that, reframing of the mindset, focus on the positives and count your blessings. I know that sounds so cliche, but be grateful for this. Yes, be grateful for the things that you do have, the people who love you love is the most durable power that there is, you know, and having that focus on those good things with a positive mindset reframed from the negative, you can easily shape yourself into a person who lives with gratitude and then reciprocate it. You know, as you, as you go about your day, give that gratitude to someone else with a nice smile or a thank you. And people can feel a thank you. People can feel a smile. People can feel that authentic, genuine sense of gratitude in any capacity of life. And that is far more reaching than that negative I don't have I don't have enough. I don't I'm not qualified for this type of negative mindset that weighs people down. Instead, when you live with gratitude, you feel lighter, you feel more alive, and you feel unstoppable. Michael Hingson  29:09 Have you ever read a book by a gentleman named Henry Drummond called Love the greatest thing in the world? Cynthia Washington  29:18 No, but it sounds like something I would enjoy reading. It's Michael Hingson  29:21 more, it's very short, but he he talks all about the fact that love is, in fact, the greatest thing in the most powerful thing in the world, and that that it is something that we all ought to express and deal with a whole lot more than than we do. Was written in, in, I think, the late 1800s I believe. But it is, it is well worth reading. As I said, it's very short. I've read the audio version, and it only takes an hour, so it's not very long book. But it doesn't need Cynthia Washington  29:59 to be well. I will definitely add that to my reading list, because my step brother called me love and it's my nickname, and all the work I have done while on my mom mission after Columbia and over the past few years to help bridge societal gaps, to make the world better for my daughter, her friends and our children and the world ultimately stems from love and gratitude and love are to my focuses. There you go. Michael Hingson  30:46 And as makes a lot of sense, as they should be well. So what have you been doing? Well, so you worked for enterprise, and then you went on, I guess, to do some other things. But what have you been doing since Columbia? Cynthia Washington  31:02 Well, since Columbia, my last class at Columbia was in finance. I studied finance, macro economics. And one more thing I forgot, that's okay. So anyway, well, my last class at Columbia was in finance and Oh, corporate governance, yes. So at Columbia, I studied corporate governance, macroeconomics and finance, while also completing my chief marketing officer executive education requirements and my last class being in finance aligned with Zions Bank, 150 year anniversary of being in business. I thought, wow, this is quite timely. Zions Bank is highly reputable, very respected organization in Utah. And I wanted to work with them while I finished Columbia, and initially I took a role to just kind of understand money real time, working on the front lines across a variety of different branches, and now I still work with them. I am in their retail banking administration department. I work with a great team. I am close to the SVPs, EBPs, and with the branches, our clients. I work on multiple different projects, doing different things, which is so fascinating because I'm in the heartbeat of the business, and it satisfies my my desire to stay relevant and use all my skill sets for good, because I have that ability to touch so many different people and projects in the work that I do at science bank, it allows me the flexibility to maintain my social media influencer status, and both give me the stability to be a good single mom for my daughter who's finishing Up in college. So I'm very grateful for that opportunity, and Colombia opens so many doors. As far as the social media marketing piece of the work I've done since Columbia, I sit on a handful of boards, Big Brothers, Big Sisters. I am on the boulder way forward legislative committee as a chair, and I continue to just do a bunch of philanthropic work, which I. I'm able to promote and highlight within the social media work that I do, so the two work beautifully together, and I am happy just to give back in the capacity I can using my skill sets at a maximized level, Michael Hingson  35:24 okay, well, you also formed your own company, didn't you? Cynthia Washington  35:29 Yes, I did form my own company. It's called level up with C dub, and that business has allowed me to work with amazing brands throughout Park Cities, silicon slopes and globally. It started, yeah, go ahead. No, go ahead. It started because I wanted to level up my community and bridge some gaps that I saw, and then it has grown into something bigger and better in the fact that the work that I'm doing is not only helping local businesses, but it's helping level up our youth, and creating an opportunity for our youth to follow a yellow brick road, so to speak, with my work that I have put forth so that they are more resilient, emotionally intelligent, and have the mental strength To endure this ever changing world. So it's been quite interesting to see how it's shifted from helping businesses mentoring individuals into this new space. Michael Hingson  37:14 And so what does the company do today? What? What you talk about helping youth and so on? Tell me a little bit more about what what you do and how you do it, and is it just you, or do you have other people in the company? Cynthia Washington  37:27 No, it's just me. Just now, just me. Yes, I don't have enough time to invest in it because Zions is my nine to five. I work at a local boutique in town to stay in the heartbeat of town, you know. And then I have the social media stuff that I do. So my calendar is quite full. The level up with C dub work has been word of mouth, and people like you have sought me through various platforms, and I like that. I'm not ready to scale it yet, even though it is scalable, but I like being able to control the the the incoming work and produce high quality products with my brand name attached to it. So right now, it's something that exists. Um, it's something it's a labor of love, and so I'm not quite ready to bring on a team, because it's multi faceted. There's a lot of mentoring, there's a lot of coaching, there's a lot of brand building, and these are all things that I just like to do on my own. Michael Hingson  39:20 So what kind of things do you do you do from a mentoring standpoint, what? What exactly does the company do? Cynthia Washington  39:28 Well, from a mentoring standpoint, I mentor across different platforms. I just received an Impact Award for mentoring girls in the tech realm of silicon slopes, over 1000 Utah high schoolers, actually, 1000s of high school girls have been mentored through this program called she tech, of which I am a part of and. Um, in addition to that, I have middle level professionals who want to level up within their career, who utilize me and my services to help coach them to their next corporate move. And so there's some one on one time. People hire me. I fit them into my schedule. We work together. They call me, you know, hey, I have this moment at work that's happening and I need some guidance. How do I navigate it? You know, sometimes it's easier to talk through that situation with a coach than it is to talk through it with your peer or manager, because you don't want to take away the integrity of the the momentum you've created at work. So I act as at sounding board for a handful of other executive, young executives who are up and coming, rising into their career, and so it's it's multifaceted. Everything's been word of mouth, and I don't have a website. I started with one, I perhaps might go back to creating one. But for now, everything is pretty manageable. I just wear a lot of different hats and work through a lot of different projects, helping many different people across different platforms. Michael Hingson  41:48 How do you keep it all together? Cynthia Washington  41:53 Great question. I use a calendar. I write a lot of notes down. I have a very systematic approach to everything that I have going on. I've learned to say no and to prioritize what's most important. I had an executive coach when I was in Silicon Valley and working in the Medicare realm of business and my executive coach brought so much value into being that sounding board for me and Springboarding My career that giving back in that same capacity is so rewarding for me. I find enjoyment out of it, and the busier I am, the more full I feel my life is. And so right now, I manage it all by writing it down and keeping it organized. You know, in my calendars, thankfully, there's flexibility with all that I do, which allows me to be very agile and giving back in the level up with C dub work that I do. Michael Hingson  43:21 Well, it sounds like when you had access to an executive coach, you were very observant about what they did, so that you could do that same sort of thing and pass it on. Because it sounds like you you took to heart the lessons you learned from that coach. Absolutely. Cynthia Washington  43:40 I had the best executive coach. And you know, when I was on my deathbed, she reached out to me and cared for me even though I was no longer her client. You know, we had become friends through that relationship, and I want to be that person for someone else, and that's why right now, I don't have anyone on my team with me, and I don't have an intention of scaling it At this point in time, because I try to, I to take on the workload with intention and purpose so that I can authentically lead and give back to help others grow and thrive within their realm of life, right? Michael Hingson  44:46 Well, you have written a book. Tell us about that and what what it is, and anything you want to talk about, Cynthia Washington  44:54 yeah, this is a book right here for those who. You are able to see Michael Hingson  45:04 it, and it's called Mind Matters. Cynthia Washington  45:07 Yes, sir, Mind Matters. It's the story of my life. It's a memoir encompasses everything and an easy to read book. It encompasses my travels, my corporate climb and fall, my Columbia education and studies, how I overcame some big hurdles with a grind, with grit, mindset and mentality. My time in Hollywood, what I like to call the trifecta me, Eminem and Kobe, and my work, the music of Eminem and Mama mentality with those three things, you can achieve anything. And what else does it include? Oh, it just has some really fun tales of growing up in California. I and some principles, guiding principles I learned from Columbia University that I wanted to encapsulate into this book and share again to give back to others. It's modestly priced on Amazon. You can buy it wherever books are sold. It's I didn't write it for fame or recognition. I respectfully share stories about my friends in Hollywood. Good and, yeah, it's a fun a fun story. I released it a year ago, October 10, and did my first book launch release party, November 15. And so it's really fun to see it become what it has, and to see its ripple effects throughout society. Michael Hingson  47:32 What did you learn about you from writing the book? Cynthia Washington  47:39 Oh, well, writing a book requires a lot of self discipline. I learned that I have lived a story rich with abundant blessings, and I learned that I have accomplished so much with having That spirit of gratitude. I grind it with grit, resilience, that has catapulted me into the space that I am living in now. However, it was also a very humbling experience as I wrote the book, I it healed me in some ways, because I had been in hiding for a year, and as much As I was sharing my life on social media, I was still afraid to live my life because I was in hiding, and so it helped me heal from that trauma, which is why I have it modestly priced, because if I can help someone else overcome something as traumatic that I have lived by sharing my story and giving hope through my story, then I want to put it out there. I'm not in it for money. I'm in it so I can help our society through this humanitarian effort, you know, and sharing a little bit about me might help someone in their time of need. So, yes, I love. Learned. I learned to heal, I learned to trust the process, and I learned who I am. Michael Hingson  50:08 It makes a lot of sense. And I asked the question, having written three books and learning from all three of them, various things about me, but also just learning to have the discipline and to go into that place where you can create something that hopefully people in the world will appreciate. I think that's that's a really cool thing, and clearly you've done that. Cynthia Washington  50:38 Yes, thank you, and you definitely can understand that, you know, you put your heart and soul into this book of creative mindfulness, and it's truly rewarding to share it with other people. And I like to say my books wrapped with my daughter's big thank you hug, because it's wrapped in her artwork that she drew, that I have framed, and I thought it was a perfect cover for it. And it's it's really a blessing to have gone through the trauma, live through it, and for her to see this work of art, share my story and help others and her. Thank you. Hug around it is even a bigger form of love Michael Hingson  51:44 you have won, and you mentioned it earlier, a she Peck she tech champion Impact Award. Tell us about that award, what it is, and a little bit more about why you won one and so on. Cynthia Washington  51:58 Yes, so while at Columbia, I did the level up with CW work, I worked with Zions Bank, had the social media influencer role, and I aligned with a lot of great women and businesses throughout Park City, Salt Lake and silicon slopes, those women became friends and she Tech was founded by one of my friends, and I became involved in that about five years ago, as a mentor, a role model, an influencer, helping young girls learn that there is opportunity in The tech space. Technology space for women and girls learning and their worth, their their value and creating opportunities for them. And so through the social media aspect, I have been able to share to share the great work of she tech and women tech Council and some other brands that I've aligned with to help young girls see other women leaders actively working and living in these different capacities. So all of the work that I do goes hand in hand with this mentoring space and helping our youth see their potential. Chi Tech, I was one of 30 who received that award this year, I was humbly honored to be a recipient of the award. I knew the work I was doing was focused on my love to change the world for my daughter and make the world a better place for her, her friends and ultimately, all children. I just didn't realize how far reaching my impact was until I received the email notifying me of this. Impact Award, and when I stood on stage with all these other champions, champions, champion champions, championing change and this trajectory of our world. It just reinforced all of the work I have done and the profound impact it's having on our youth today, and it's remarkable to like. I can't, I can't express the depth it has, because it's so far reaching, and it's something beyond my wildest dreams that I've created through my work, through all these different intersections of strategic marketing and social media brand work and leading by Cynthia Washington  56:16 good and using my influence for good. And it's just truly amazing to see that I've helped 1000s of teenage girls understand their potential, their value and their worth, knowing that there's so many different possibilities in the tech space for them to learn, grow and do Michael Hingson  56:47 well, congratulations on winning the award. That's a that's a cool thing, and obviously you're making a big difference. Cynthia Washington  56:57 Thank you so much. I'm still so humbled, and I keep having to ground myself because I never expected to be in this moment. I simply was a mom on a mission to change the trajectory for my daughter, and receiving this award was something I never expected, and I keep ground, grounding myself, because I just I'm so humbly honored to have received it, and to have come to this, this elevated level of where I'm at in my current life, by giving up everything, I became something so much bigger and better than I ever expected or or planned for myself, and it's profound to me, and I just have to constantly ground myself and remind myself like that it's it's okay to be here. Michael Hingson  58:17 That's what gratitude can do, and that's what gratitude obviously does for you, because you you clearly exhibit a lot of gratitude in in all that you say and all that you do. And I think that's extremely important. People really should think a little bit more about gratitude than they then they typically do. But you know, it is something that that clearly you have put in the forefront of of your being. You do a lot with social media. And tell me a little bit more about about that as we move forward here and get close to wrapping up. Cynthia Washington  58:57 Well, yes, I do do a lot on social media, but before I answer that question, you found me through social media, and I want you to share a little bit about how you discovered me knowing that you're unable to see a lot of the content I create. So how were you able to find me? And then I'll answer that question. Tell me what intrigued you Michael Hingson  59:31 when you say not see the content, like, What do you mean? Cynthia Washington  59:36 Well, you have a blindness, vision impairment, correct, Michael Hingson  59:46 not an impairment, but that's okay, but, but what is it that I don't see exactly? Cynthia Washington  59:52 How do you see my social media content for you to be able to find. Michael Hingson  1:00:00 I use a piece of software that verbalizes whatever comes across the computer screen, so hearing the the text, listening to what your profile on LinkedIn says about you and so on, is all just as straightforward for me as it is for you, and to describe that in great detail would be like me asking you how you do what you do. It's what we grow up learning. The reality is, blindness isn't the problem. That's why I said it's not an impairment, because people always think about blindness as a visual impairment. Well, visually, I'm not different because I'm blind and I'm not impaired because I am blind, if, if the reality is impairment has nothing to do with it, and we really need to get away from thinking that someone is less than someone else because they may not have the same senses that that we do. And while I don't necessarily have eyesight, I have other gifts that I've learned to maximize, and probably the greatest gift of all, is that I don't happen to be light dependent like you are. The reality is that for you, when there's a power failure or something that causes all the lights and everything to go out, you scramble looking for an iPhone or a smartphone or a flashlight or something to bring light in, because we spent a lot of time bringing light on demand. To you ever since the light bulb was invented, I don't have that problem. The power goes out, doesn't bother me a bit. The reality is we've got to get away from this idea of thing that somebody is impaired because they don't have some things that we do. There are a lot of ways to get information, and eyesight is only one of them. Cynthia Washington  1:01:48 I love that, and that's exactly why I wanted you to explain that, because I think that's super important as we discuss unstoppable mindset. I think that's a critical necessity for society to learn and to know, and because you were able to find me using these great resources that you have and the work I'm putting forth intrigued you to bring me into this meeting with you. So I am, again, so grateful that we have this opportunity to collaborate in this space, bringing both our good works together to Oh, help level up awareness that there are no limits. We are unstoppable. Glasses shattering everywhere because of people like you and me who are doing this good work to change the trajectory of the world, and social media for me, has given me the opportunity to do what you do in this podcast. Michael Hingson  1:03:14 If you want people to be able to reach out to you and interact with you, how best can they do that Cynthia Washington  1:03:22 the like you did through LinkedIn is great. That's how I do receive most of my work is through LinkedIn. People find me there and will message me through then, LinkedIn, what? Michael Hingson  1:03:43 What's your LinkedIn name or your house? Cynthia Washington  1:03:47 Cynthia Washington. Okay, that's easy, yes. Cynthia Washington, Park City, Salt Lake City, will get you to me. Another outlet is through Instagram. I'm little bit more hesitant to reply to the direct messages on Instagram. I do try to filter a lot of my content and screen things. So I do trust LinkedIn a little bit more. As far as the messaging component is concerned, also, I have provided you with my email which you're happy I'm happy for you to share. Okay, so any of those three means will get you connected to me. I do not have a website. As I said, everything is organic, authentic and word of mouth. My Plate is really full, and so I like to be selective of the projects I bring on in hopes that they give back to society in one way or another. Lacher, I'm not doing it to chase every deal or get a bunch of free product. I do it with a very intentional Spirit giving back with gratitude that karmic effect goes a long way well. Michael Hingson  1:05:18 I hope people will reach out. You clearly have a lot to offer, and I think you've you've given us a lot to think about today, which I appreciate a great deal. So thank you very much for that. I want to thank all of you who are listening or watching our podcast today, or maybe you're doing both listening and watching. That's okay too. I want to thank you for being here with us. Love to get your thoughts. If you have any messages or our ideas you want to pass along. Love it if you'd reach out to me. Michael, H, I m, I C, H, A, E, L, H i at accessibe, A, C, C, E, S, S, I B, e.com, you can and I would appreciate it if you would, wherever you're listening or watching this podcast, give us a five star rating, and please give us a review. We really value your reviews highly, and I would appreciate it if you would do that. If you know of anyone Cynthia, you as well, who you think ought to be a guest on unstoppable mindset, please let us know. Introduce us. We're always looking for people to come on to help show everyone that we're all more unstoppable than we think we are. But again, Cynthia, I want to thank you for being here. This has been absolutely wonderful. Can you believe we've been doing this over an hour already? Cynthia Washington  1:06:37 Oh no, not at all. Oh yeah. Well, I am so forever grateful again, and as we head into the holidays, just remind everyone to live with a spirit of gratitude, be kind to others. And there are no limits. It's time to shatter those limits that we have created as barriers and Live limitless with an unstoppable mindset. Michael Hingson  1:07:09 You have been listening to the Unstoppable Mindset podcast. Thanks for dropping by. I hope that you'll join us again next week, and in future weeks for upcoming episodes. To subscribe to our podcast and to learn about upcoming episodes, please visit www dot Michael hingson.com slash podcast. Michael Hingson is spelled m i c h a e l h i n g s o n. While you're on the site., please use the form there to recommend people who we ought to interview in upcoming editions of the show. And also, we ask you and urge you to invite your friends to join us in the future. If you know of any one or any organization needing a speaker for an event, please email me at speaker at Michael hingson.com. I appreciate it very much. To learn more about the concept of blinded by fear, please visit www dot Michael hingson.com forward slash blinded by fear and while you're there, feel free to pick up a copy of my free eBook entitled blinded by fear. The unstoppable mindset podcast is provided by access cast an initiative of accessiBe and is sponsored by accessiBe. Please visit www.accessibe.com . AccessiBe is spelled a c c e s s i b e. There you can learn all about how you can make your website inclusive for all persons with disabilities and how you can help make the internet fully inclusive by 2025. Thanks again for Listening. Please come back and visit us again next week.

MUSICJustin Bieber revealed he suffered a rib injury after falling off an electric skateboard known as a Onewheel during a live four-hour Twitch rehearsal.The 31-year-old said the fall landed him on his side and that it “hurts to laugh, talk” or sing.Despite the setback, Bieber powered through the livestream rehearsal for his upcoming headlining performance at Coachella in April 2026.Yungblud has pulled the plug on his tour, saying that some "voice and blood and tests have raised some concerns." Not divulging what those concerns are, he added, "I'm so sorry to do this... It is in my nature to run and run until I run myself to the ground. But this time I've been told I have to take it seriously and I can't [screw] around... I just want you to know that this is so hard for me to do, but I promise I will make it up to you. U.S.A., I will see you next year. It's gonna be unbelievable. I can't wait." https://www.facebook.com/yungblud/ Soundgarden fans will likely have some stuff from their archives to look forward to next year. 2026 is the 30th anniversary of Down on the Upside, and guitarist Kim Thayil tells us they're looking at an anniversary reissue for that and something for their 1989 album Louder Than Love. The Detroit Lions are teaming up with Marshall Mathers to produce the Thanksgiving halftime show. https://www.cbsnews.com/detroit/news/eminem-detroit-lions-thanksgiving-halftime-show/#:~:text=Officials%20say%20it%20is%20part,Entertainment%20to%20produce%20the%20performances. Kim Kardashian had a pajama party on Friday night and posted a quick video of her on a bed with her sister Khloe, and Britney Spears. Here they are kissing on the cheeks (face cheeks, perv), and just being silly girls. https://www.billboard.com/music/music-news/kim-kardashian-britney-spears-hang-out-khloe-photos-1236114424/ RIP: Todd Snider passed away at the age of 59 on Friday after a battle with walking pneumonia. Todd was known as a folk country singer who blended genres. He even performed with Jimmy Buffet's Coral Reefer Band. https://apnews.com/article/todd-snider-dies-1327dee203d2e50af5bd051fea8780ae TVIt was around the time of the Covid-19 pandemic that actor Glen Powell got the call to make his SNL debut as host. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HuAczInEzsg Red Dead Redemption rides again … Rockstar's classic western game Red Dead Redemption, which was originally released in 2010, is getting an updated release across nearly every major platform – including PS5, Xbox Series X/S, Switch 2, iOS, Android, and Netflix. https://mashable.com/article/red-dead-redemption-ps5-xbox-switch-2-ios-android-netflix?test_uuid=04wb5avZVbBe1OWK6996faM&test_variant=a Paris Hilton would like you to know that she's self-made. https://www.refinery29.com/en-us/2018/07/205006/paris-hilton-interview-greed-self-made WHAT TO STREAM: Epic Ride: The Story of Universal Theme Parks (Peacock - limited series)All listings are subject to change. MOVING ON INTO MOVIE NEWS:Now You See Me: Now You Don't is making magic at the box office, beating Paramount's big-budget The Running Man. https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-news/now-you-see-me-box-office-upset-running-man-1236427896/ There's a new super villain coming to the big screen. DC Studios and James Gunn have confirmed that Brainiac will be the antagonist in the upcoming Superman: Man of Tomorrow. https://screenrant.com/superman-sequel-villain-brainiac-man-of-tomorrow/ The wildly popular Labubu dolls may soon conquer movie theaters! https://variety.com/2025/film/news/labubu-movie-in-development-sony-pictures-1236582291/ AND FINALLY It's not always easy to get straight guys to admit that other dudes are hot. But over on Reddit, there's a thread going where dudes are naming the men they find attractive . . . and, in some cases, might make an exception for.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Marshall Mathers, beter bekend als Eminem, groeide op in armoede en werd een van de invloedrijkste rappers ooit. In deze aflevering van Weetikveel duiken we in zijn jeugd, zijn alter ego's, zijn taalvirtuositeit en zijn maatschappelijke impact. Van rapbattles tot wereldrecords, van controverse tot kwetsbaarheid: een portret van een artiest die zijn demonen omzette in kunst en miljoenen wist te raken.

(00:00-18:00) Doug and Martin took the elevator together this morning. Doug hasn't been watching baseball like he should. Jackson attended the Ladue Athletic Hall of Fame ceremony last night. Lotta poor people? Hell of an interview with David Freese yesterday. Fry bar at Tim's house tomorrow for college football Saturday. Cole Cubelic is a ball knower. Cougar Bachelor. Flacco and Rodgers dueling on TNF. Scherzer was a banty rooster last night.(18:09-36:50) Still trying to figure out if this is Tanner. Some audio clips from Chaim Bloom on with BK & Ferrario yesterday. Bloom talking about adding to the rotation this offseason. Yadier Molina announcing he's open for business. Chaim Bloom talking about Yadi's interest. Likelihood of Albert and Yadi working together. Expired tags.(37:00-58:06) Happy 53rd birthday, Marshall Mathers. Why do you hate our Chiefs? Why was Akon born in St. Louis? Jackson doesn't have the build for a cigar. College corner. SEC Pick Em. Audio of Brandon Walker picking Auburn over Mizzou. Previewing a little Mizzou Auburn.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Im vollen Fanboy-Modus reden wir über unsere Vorzeige-Idole wie Naked Snake, Dexter und Marshall Mathers. Unser eigentliches Anliegen, das sich diese Woche durch jedes Thema zieht, ist aber das Kunstschaffen und wie wir kreativ sein können, woher Ideen kommen und wann KI erlaubt sein sollte, um Träume wahr zu machen.

What happens when fandom crosses the line into worship? This week on Pop Culture Pastor, Dave and Cody welcome special guest DJ Dangerfield to dive into the new documentary Stans, a raw look at Eminem's most devoted fans.From rumors of an on-set Avengers brawl to the chaos of the Movie Game, the crew warms up with laughs before getting serious about the complicated legacy of Marshall Mathers. They explore how Eminem's music gave voice to pain, how fans mirror his personas, and why so many are drawn to him as a surrogate figure. The conversation unpacks parasocial relationships, cultural appropriation, missing parents, trauma bonding, and the human hunger for belonging.Is Stans a celebration of fandom or a cautionary tale of obsession? What does healthy “stan” behavior even look like? And what does it say about us when we try to become the image of our heroes?It's messy, it's insightful, it's funny—and it might make you rethink the way you connect with your favorite artists.https://linktr.ee/PopCulturePastorPod

In part two of this Mariah tale, we get into the nitty gritty of what actually went down between Mariah Carey and Eminem. Did Mariah and Marshall Mathers actually date? Why is Eminem so obsessed with her? Was it all worth it, for us to get a music video of Mariah in drag as Eminem? We'll say this - beware of all Detroit “touchdowns.” Joining Tess to chat through this long, bizarre and often one-sided feud is the actor Kara Luiz (“The Studio”, “Hacks”) @karaluiz. Read “The Meaning of Mariah Carey” Follow Pop Mystery Pod on Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok @popmysterypod Pop Mystery Pod is written and produced by Tess Barker @tesstifybarker. Produced by Tyler Hill. Theme song by Rick Wood @Rickw00d.Support independent pop journalism and join us on Patreon at Pop Mystery Pod. Get access to ad free episodes, bonus content, and polls about upcoming topics. patreon.com/PopMysteryPodFollow Tess's other podcasts Lady to Lady and Toxic: The Britney Spears Story wherever you get your pods. Make sure to leave us a review! And tell a friend about the show! See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

This week we talk about the acceptable amount of gratuity to expect for counter service and why Brian is the new Andy Rooney.  Follow Brian on Threads, Instagram and X - Support the show and get bonus audio/video episodes, ringtones, bonus footage and more!! All at patreon.com/brianmccarthy. 

“What do I want to do with my life?” – Sourcery 101 with Justin Shaw Author Justin Shaw describes himself as “A little bit Deepak and a little bit Tupac.” Justin is a former stand-up comedian with an inspiring story of overcoming trauma, emotional / mental issues and heavy drug addiction using a system he developed called Sourcery, which uses source energy to heal trauma and manifest a thriving new life. Now, he teaches these concepts to others using his book “Sourcery 101: 13 Rungs to a Higher Elevation of Consciousness.”Timestamps:5:00: Justin tells his story11:55 Sedona and the development of Sourcery“It all, like a beautiful mind, came to me in pieces.” “It's all for a purpose and has meaning.”13:05: Tracy chimes in about family of origin and Sedona14:05: In Sedona, Justin asks the vortexes in Sedona, “What do I do with my life?”16:10 Justin's “Dumpster Fire” and explaining “The Shadow was driving my car.” Using mind, body and spirit to heal18:29: “What made the body heals the body.” Trauma and Calming the Chaos 19:18: Western Medicine vs. Eastern Medicine (discussion with Justin and Tracy)“You do want therapy…with the right therapist.”“The easiest way to give away your power is by thinking you don't have any.”23:28: The Sourcery method and how Justin reconciled his new found spirituality with Christianity at the point where he lost his mother“Fear is the number one way to control people”“I had this true religious experience when I dropped my religion.”29:00: “I'm not even confident of MY salvation!” Christianity and stepping outside of it into a whole new world30:33: Tracy explains the difference between rigidity and flexibility, and the advantages of gaining psychological flexibility in mental health31:27: Justin goes more into what Sourcery is“Spirituality unites….religion divides. Spirituality is found…religion is taught.”“When you replace panic with love, you find bliss.”33:35: Justin's near life experience. “If more people had them, we'd have less chaos.”34:34: Tracy: Is love, joy and bliss the medicine we need? The answer to calm the chaos?35:19: Justin: “Attack the situation with love, and peace will follow.”37:09: Justin “I'm trying to make this the last time.” Tracy “Oh my gosh, that's what I've been saying for years!”38:33 The 13 Rungs of Sourcery as compared to the 12 steps of AA“A bird has a better perspective of things than a worm.”40:35: Tracy introduces Justin's book: “Sourcery 101 13 Rungs 13 Rungs to a Higher Elevation of Consciousness.”42:39: Will Justin become a Shaman? Will Tracy become a Shaman or an Astrologer? Stay tuned!44:24: The fool and Tracy – “You can learn from your shadows.”46:02: Justin: The first rung is the shadow. “Healing trauma should be fun, too.” References to M&M, (Marshall Mathers, the rapper)Social Media Links:Website: www.awakenthesourcerer.com You can get a free session with Justin!Instagram: @sourcerer_13 A free follow in Instagram!#mentalhealth #addiction #spirituality #healing #mindbody

After last week's thorough breakdown of Happy Gilmore, it's time to run it back with the 2025 update, as Ryan Castle dissects the brand new Adam Sandler comedy that's got the whole world buzzing - Happy Gilmore 2!  Did it live up to the hype after 30 years in the making? We break it down with 3 simple categories: What worked? What didn't work? And what the F*ck was that?  Was there a different way it could've been produced? Who made the best cameo? What was the funniest scene? It's a full dissection of Netflix's brand new feature film, and it's coming up NEXT!

Pendant tout l'été, (re)découvrez une sélection des meilleurs épisodes du Rewind Hip-hop Classics ! Have a great summer! Follow on Instagram @drazzy_dee !

VR and tabletop game designer from Small Rice Studios, Doug joins Ben this week to talk about the recently released cozy card game ROAST, which he designed along with his brother Nick (who Ben had the pleasure of meeting at PAX West 2024). Ben had some questions about the design, development, and testing of ROAST—all of which Doug is more than happy to elaborate on and discuss. They also spend some time reminiscing about the board, card, arcade, and video games of their youth. And don't forget to stay tuned after the interview for an outtake followed by Ben's review of Rendering Ranger: R² [Rewind]! *** 00:00:50 - Doug introduces himself and their first published game, and what is coming next 00:02:31 - Collaboration with a sibling, Doug's love of games, and the times before UNO  The UNO was originally developed in 1971 by professional barber Merle Robbins in Reading, Ohio. The Robbins' family raised the money to have 5,000 copies of the game made, which he sold from his barbershop. Merle Robbins later sold the rights to UNO to a group of friends headed by Robert Tezak, a funeral parlor owner in Joliet, Illinois. Tezak formed International Games, Inc., to market Uno until company was purchased by Mattel in 1992. 00:05:04 - The ROAST design idea, living off the grid, connections, and roasting marshmallows 00:06:55 - Testing tabletop games, getting constructive feedback, and finding the best strategy 00:09:50 - Micromanaging your math, opinions of Balatro, and variety is the spice of something 00:12:15 - Remembering Magic the Gathering, from chess to golf, and more about frame-rates 00:18:23 - Pinball machine legality, real-time strategy games, and it's more than a full-time job   00:24:32 - Learning about game players, and the art of community building—online AND offline 00:26:18 - Becoming more comfortable, and donating sales to the National Park Foundation  00:27:55 - Pets doing things with intent, reconnecting with others, and climates are changing  00:32:26 - Being productive and constructive, Ben babbles, and cardboard costumes in SoCal 00:36:03 - Being a card, being odd, Democrats ruined weird, and Doug's parting sales pitch 00:38:30 - Curated social spaces, break out the ban-hammer, THE Dug, and names as verbs  BONUS material 00:41:09 - The Marshall Mathers outtake  00:41:55 - Ben's review of Rendering Ranger: R² [Rewind] Ben's FINAL VERDICT for Rendering Ranger: R² [Rewind] DO BUY if… ...you want a health dose of smoothly animated, SuperNintendo nostalgia ...you want an incredibly challenging experience with excessively long levels DON'T BUY if… you're looking for a casual, arcade style experience *** Follow Small Rice Studios and Doug on… On their website: https://www.roast-game.com On Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/smallricestudios On Discord: https://discord.com/invite/GSyxdBN2A7 On Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DougSmallRay On YouTube: https://youtube.com/@smallricestudios And their TREE o' LINKS: https://linktr.ee/smallricestudios Follow Two Vague on… Our website: https://www.twovaguepodcast.com On Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/two_vague_podcast On YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@twovaguepodcast On Substack: https://twovaguepodcast.substack.com/ On Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/twovaguepodcast.com For show appearance and other inquiries, contact us at: twovaguepodcast@gmail.com -AND-  …for all of your PRI and 2VP merch check out the Partly Robot Industries store at TEEPUBLIC! https://www.teepublic.com/user/partly-robot-industries *** References, Links, and Tags For more information about the classic Super Famicom / SNES port of the Manfred Trenz designed game Rendering Ranger: R² [Rewind] from Ziggurat Interactive, follow the link below. https://www.ziggurat.games/game/rendering-ranger-r2 #Podbean #DIYPodcast #ApplePodcast #VideoGames #Trivia #Comedy #Talkshow #2VP #TwoVaguePodcast #PodernFamily #InterviewShow #GamersofThreads #Gamer #PartlyRobot #PartlyRobotIndustries #TeePublic #SmallRiceStudios #RenderingRangerR2Rewind #ZigguratInteractiveInc #ManfredTrenz

Get ready, Dazeys, because this week's solo is absolutely NUTS! Like, the kind of FREAKY you'll be dying to share with all your friends. This episode involves Marshall Mathers—yep, Slim Shady gets sexy with one of our hosts (don't ask, just listen). We stumble upon a glitch in the matrix and experience a dream phenomenon like no other. Plus, Witchy Winter strikes again as we uncover her pearls of psychic wisdom from the portal. And just when you think it couldn't get weirder, we dive into past lives and ghostly happenings. Brace yourselves—this one's a next level WTF!!!! Resource links: Watch Stillwater on Apple TV+ Follo​w Sarah Wright Olsen: IG: @swrightolsen Follow Teresa Palmer: IG: @teresapalmer  FB: https://www.facebook.com/teresamarypalmer/ DISCOUNT CODES: • Go to www.baeo.com and get 20% when using the code MOTHERDAZE20 • Go to www.lovewell.earth and get 20% when using the code MOTHERDAZE20 More about the show! • Watch this episode on YouTube here • Co-founders of @yourzenmama yourzenmama.com • Read and buy our book! "The Zen Mama Guide To Finding Your Rhythm In Pregnancy, Birth, and Beyond" Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Drazzy Dee revisite la carrière d'Eminem depuis ses débuts dans la sphère underground à la fin des années 90, jusqu'au succès des premiers albums ! Follow me on Instagram @drazzy_dee

Eminem, alias Marshall Mathers, raconte toute sa vie dans ses chansons. Il y relate aussi la rancœur qu'il éprouve envers sa propre mère à tel point que cette dernière emmènera son propre fils devant le juge. Merci pour votre écoute N'hésistez pas à vous abonner également aux podcasts des séquences phares de Matin Première: L'Invité Politique : https://audmns.com/LNCogwPL'édito politique « Les Coulisses du Pouvoir » : https://audmns.com/vXWPcqxL'humour de Matin Première : https://audmns.com/tbdbwoQRetrouvez tous les contenus de la RTBF sur notre plateforme Auvio.be Retrouvez également notre offre info ci-dessous : Le Monde en Direct : https://audmns.com/TkxEWMELes Clés : https://audmns.com/DvbCVrHLe Tournant : https://audmns.com/moqIRoC5 Minutes pour Comprendre : https://audmns.com/dHiHssrEt si vous avez apprécié ce podcast, n'hésitez pas à nous donner des étoiles ou des commentaires, cela nous aide à le faire connaître plus largement.

Balloon Party is now Hour 4 of TMA. Just know, Jackson is happy. Jackson's got some questions for us. How the 12-Team Playoff will affect expectations within college football programs. Anarchy is on the horizon. Missouri and Illinois hopes are gone but lots of excitement down the stretch in the CFB world. Should Jackson and Tim forget their salaries in exchange for longer segments. Chairman still reeling from missing out on the love of his life. Will Mizzou score again this season if Drew Pyne is the QB?Mike Elko firing some shots in his postgame comments on Saturday. Who was he talking about? Tim's tongue. Big game Saturday in the Big Ten between Ohio State and Penn State. Outstanding College Gameday in Bloomington. Kirk Hebstreit and Lee Corso.Doug is getting acclimated to the 10:00 hour. The debut of the Email of the Day segment on 101 coming up. Tim found himself pulling for the Cleveland Browns yesterday. Audio of Jameis Winston channeling his inner Marshall Mathers after the Browns win. Supercut of Gabe's voicemails from the Power Mizzou post-game show. Jackson's not a fan of Harrison's Brother, Master. Jackson's JUICY shorts. Follow us on IG at tma_stl.E-Mail of the Day Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoicesSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Balloon Party is now Hour 4 of TMA. Just know, Jackson is happy. Jackson's got some questions for us. How the 12-Team Playoff will affect expectations within college football programs. Anarchy is on the horizon. Missouri and Illinois hopes are gone but lots of excitement down the stretch in the CFB world. Should Jackson and Tim forget their salaries in exchange for longer segments. Chairman still reeling from missing out on the love of his life. Will Mizzou score again this season if Drew Pyne is the QB? Mike Elko firing some shots in his postgame comments on Saturday. Who was he talking about? Tim's tongue. Big game Saturday in the Big Ten between Ohio State and Penn State. Outstanding College Gameday in Bloomington. Kirk Hebstreit and Lee Corso. Doug is getting acclimated to the 10:00 hour. The debut of the Email of the Day segment on 101 coming up. Tim found himself pulling for the Cleveland Browns yesterday. Audio of Jameis Winston channeling his inner Marshall Mathers after the Browns win. Supercut of Gabe's voicemails from the Power Mizzou post-game show. Jackson's not a fan of Harrison's Brother, Master. Jackson's JUICY shorts. Follow us on IG at tma_stl. E-Mail of the Day Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Former president Obama admitted he was nervous to follow Marshall Mathers at a Michigan rally for VP Kamala Harris, former White House Chief of Staff John Kelly says former president Donald Trump admires Nazis and wants to use the military against U.S. citizens, and CNN sent a reporter deep into panda territory for a story. When Anna Kendrick signed on to star in the new film, “Woman of the Hour,” the production was still searching for a director. Driven by a nagging voice in her head, Kendrick raised her hand and applied for the job. Watch “Woman of the Hour,” available now on Netflix. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

HQ understands the struggle, even the struggle of living in a Detroit trailer park, trying to balance work, friendship, and freestyle rap. Listen as Bryant and Kaytland provide their debrief for 8 Mile starring Marshall Mathers as B Rabbit! *The first portion of the episode is spoiler free* Make sure to follow us: Twitter, Instagram, Tik Tok- @opsilverscreen Facebook- Operation: Silver Screen

Get ready, Dazeys, because this week's solo is absolutely NUTS! Like, the kind of FREAKY you'll be dying to share with all your friends. This episode involves Marshall Mathers—yep, Slim Shady gets sexy with one of our hosts (don't ask, just listen). We stumble upon a glitch in the matrix and experience a dream phenomenon like no other. Plus, Witchy Winter strikes again as we uncover her pearls of psychic wisdom from the portal. And just when you think it couldn't get weirder, we dive into past lives and ghostly happenings. Brace yourselves—this one's a next level WTF!!!! Resource links: Watch Stillwater on Apple TV+ Follo​w Sarah Wright Olsen: IG: @swrightolsen Follow Teresa Palmer: IG: @teresapalmer  FB: https://www.facebook.com/teresamarypalmer/ DISCOUNT CODES: • Go to www.baeo.com and get 20% when using the code MOTHERDAZE20 • Go to www.lovewell.earth and get 20% when using the code MOTHERDAZE20 More about the show! • Watch this episode on YouTube here • Co-founders of @yourzenmama yourzenmama.com • Read and buy our book! "The Zen Mama Guide To Finding Your Rhythm In Pregnancy, Birth, and Beyond" Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Trigger warning: this series contains adult content not suitable for children or under the legal age of majority. Listener and reader discretion is advised as this broadcast and its selected readings and projected writings contain explicit language, provocative wordplay, profanity, open expression of suicidal ideation, discussion of evolved/ de-institutionalized theories concerning depression and mental health, race relations and colorism, socio-economic inequality, political injustice and media politicism, scientific hypothesis , modern philosophical ideals and spiritual explorations, crude humor and may include and contain pornographic content, references to fictionalized interpretation of public figures (fan-fiction), caricatures or references to pop culture, modern art, music, science and other entertainment references which may evoke biased emotion, inspire adverse reactions or discontentment, or discomfort. ⚠️ VIEWER, LISTENER, and READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. ⚠️ The views and opinions expressed by this series and its subsequent editions, additions, chapters, broadcasts, and publications are solely the writers' interpretations as expressed with artistic and entertainment purposes only. The artist reserves all rights to intellectual property maintained and produced by any and all publications of this series and is thereby protected under any applicable copyright law and/or trademark. All fictionalizations of persons living or dead are meant to be perceived as characterized and/or fictional (fan-fiction) are for entertainment purposes only, and are not to be perceived as real re-enactments, dramatizations of events past or present, media dialogues or agendas, or factual exchanges pertaining to and surrounding real-life circumstances. The dialogues and entires expressed in this project are in no way liable for any action, expression, disagreements, entitlements held by the reader at his or her/ their own discretion and therefore will not be held accountable for any actions by the reader on their own account due to perceptions which may have been inspired and/or provoked by these readings or any of their subsequent editions. —rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrfrrfrrrrfrrrfrrfrrrrr. [The Festival Project ™] You know what? Fuck this place. Fuck your color coded red lined fucking bullshit. New York is so visibly fucking racist it makes me want to hurl. I'm gonna kill you. Finally get out of that contract, did you? …no. I had worked out the full hour, but I was no less angry; I had even walked a couple miles and jogged a little—but I might have been even more mad. Aiagepalaqalerhelehee DIABoLICAL SONOFABITXH {Enter The Multiverse Legends: A Review} He— shot himself in the head. Hm. Did he mess up his face? What? If his face is alright I can reanimate him—no problem. But there's no point if he's got a hole in his face How are you gonna cover a hole in his head? He'll wear a hat. I think the whole point of white supremacy— Is to get blacks to have to do stereotypically black shit Like beg and steal. I've learned that People will set you up and corner you So that you have to do some shit They can later hold over your head. I've learned, after all this time— That the only way to win a rigged game — Is by cheating. People love setting people up. People love making it look like you're up to some dishonest shit— When it was dishonest to have set you up in the first place. People are sneaky. Life is politics as fuck. Everything is business. There's no kind of rules to the real disasters in life— I just discovered a new political issue I didn't even know existed Until I had to experience it Nutrition inequality. The quality of life one experiences with full balance nutrition, Which is kept out of the hands of the masses by the greedy and wealthy elite— The difference in the quality of life one faces When able to afford proper nutrition within the alignment of one's purpose. THIS is why I have people posted up outside of my apartment trying to kill me?! Probably. Don't come between a man and his business. Don't come between a man and his business. Don't come between a man and his– “prestidigitation” You are the ace, I am the m Diamond, I Am The Heart, I am the spade Did you do this on purpose? Space, that's an odd name. Another magician. —what else would you call this? I wouldn't. (To be honest, I didn't know what I was doing.) Well, there it goes. Well, this should be fun. I— Cut my throat To watch me live again Or leave me hanging here As morbidly as you desire To come inform me Of my royal nature, Yet undone by another Fortunate, in either aspect Where are you, now To tie the winters sleeve Upon my sleeping chambers, Whispered into hear thy neck My captor slowly soon awaiting So far a severity Hereby unsworn I lie to seek escape Though captured for nothing in the eye if beauty alone; Andamine, I am, I wait to be free oh! well. Sick to my stomach I plea for your waking A scarcity, Still slithers up my spine, The *gunshot* Vent, baby Keem hooligan, baby keem -The Melodic Blue, baby keem [The Festival Project ™ ] As it turns out, The assembly of the impenetrable ten, Also automatically stood as The most revolutionary Saturday a night Live Reunion Of all time. Why isn't Keenan in the impenetrable ten?! Yes, WHY. NON. NO. NONSENSE! Because! We don't have time for a negro spiritual every time something Mm—NO. Suspicious happens. This is suspicious. O boredom, I need metaphore for movement Disfigured m,n Centric and stil Consintrical, if you will Disasterous dreams art thou Eating shining m, What I need and Holy, only what I want Dear captor, Shining as the morning night I was, As slumber did fall upon us Waiting for the watching cry, Somehow seeking justice for intrepid Indigence —what, what did you say?! I said— —is that a word! Let's see! Post poster conformity— Oh, here we go again No borderline Or robot border patrol, Focus now in the motors, Run for you excellent cries Simply warn us, will you Everwaiting, perhaps For the fortune, until Stories of foragers Will you again Creep, calling, Temper, Justice For now, let's say All liberty is liberty does, As in the mind, let it rest As in the heart, let it flourish As in all hu/mankind Casts judgement, Upon each other, But meat, Not among the waking tide The realms you call upon And cry, at ask of will For wishes granted And prayers seen over I have an irrational fear of Jack o lanterns— Does that mean anything to you? No…should it? VO Suddenly there were Jack o lanterns everywhere. That's so weird, I never wrote that scene— it just kind of popped into my head, and then— I make thoughts To the shade of your love I can't seem to need anything Or want any longer But just to escape, To be free from all tragedy I don't understand… There's a light on, It appears, However— Hollow, And wicked looking It's barely even spring, And suddenly as I walk about, They seem to be appearing In my path, Amidst my dreams And everything i know is No one Everything I love is Gone And everyone around me seems to be Some kind of Wrong, Or fornicated, Tragedy, It seems, Another tragedy. These Demons. I should be working on project III And making coffee for the evening But I can barely breathe Awareness I can barely breathe I can barely even think of myself as anyone at all Actually (Anyone at all, actually) please Help me Please help me I hate all my lines in this movie. Then change them— Really? Or trade with someone else. Like, the whole character, or just— Just, the words. Just the words? Or, like, whatever. I can do that?! You can do—whatever you want. “Whatever you want?!” I'm an actor! So act, then! You put the words in my head; You were just the worst We are who we are, just Whole worlds apart You put the words in my mouth, On top of the scars, that's A whole broken heart I guess we are who we are A whole sky full of stars I still can't find my sparkle Just no reason to smile at all I guess we are who we are “You were put here just to be [redacted] mother, and then die.”, said the voice— Which was not my own, but some man's. I didn't believe that, at all—actually, But I had just sent my divorce papers in the mail, Attached with it the accounts of everything—almost everything, anyway, that had happened that had caused me to be such a distance from my son in the first place, as I had never intended to just leave him with his father, whose birthday was either the next day, or the day after—and it was almost funny to me that I couldn't remember which it was, as I realized that in the beginning, I had loved him so much that I had looked past all of the disasterous, ugly things— the phlegm on the walls, his lack of respect towards anyone, especially himself—but anyone at all— but first and foremost, especially myself, who I had finally learned to love before hand, and had finally learned to love again—at least, the best way any woman could love herself. The algorithm was playing serious mind games and tricks on my psyche again, and I wondered if I should just attempt the next two days sleeping —but it would mean that I would miss my deadline for project three, which I had intended to be released… The demonic energy again began to shift around me as I twiddled away writing—the traffic outside moved more rapidly, and doors in the hallway from my neighbors began to slam, and I knew without a doubt that he had tried to kill me using some kind of curse of black magic, but couldn't—somehow I had lived, but was still being made to suffer— and that whatever spells he had used had summoned something nasty into all of the creatures, humanoid and alike, that could be controlled without the will of God, who I thought might be lost, were it not for the songs that had come in the wake of begging for God itself to free me which was the nightmare, the curse it had become to have only fallen in love once, with the kind of man who could not. Now he had wished my doom onto me, which left me wounded and afraid, unsafe in any element or environment , plagued by coughing bodies and robotic slaves—none of which I assumed he hactiallh had the power to control, but of a greater force which shielded itself to consume me, and mimick his energy with the attempt to allow that my own mind would bring about my death, the fury and pain which it must have been to lose what I had found myself to always be, a good woman— My exit had humiliated him, damaged his pride, and bruised his twisted ego enough so that he wished I would siffer such an ill fate—however, as I had finally learned to know and breathe, that all the damage and control done to me, he would now fall prey to in his own will to destroy me. —all that seeks to harm me will therefore harm only itself; And all who seek to destroy me will be destroyed in doing so. Amen. I don't know how hard he hit you, this time, but he really fucked you up. Yeah, I guess. Fuck, I lost that whole Tom Hanks Movie No, it's still there.. No, it's gone—everything's gone! HELLO? HELLO?! CAN YOU HEAR ME? It's dead. She's gone. —Portal closes— Oh no! No! This is ‘situational'— “A Situational Comedy” So, what's the situation. …I Am. Ok. Wait— No! Hold on a second! Nevermind— Comedy is born from tragedy, right? Sometimes. Uh oh But WAIT— No, Billy, not now. *billie?! Right. Idk. There are other types of comedy, I guess. Look at this. YO! It's THAT guy again! Yo. That's that guy, and his eyes. Strange. Yeah, I don't— I don't get it, is this like a— SIRE. You don't belong here, I assure you. DENNIS LEARY UGH. Can I GO now?! I'm afraid not— You've just made captain. Okay, now you're famous. No way— Hey! No— HEY NO. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. Now I know too well, The well of tears on my guitar She's got a body like one Oh her curves But I just wonder what it like to be loved By stars Socialites and superstars They're Gods, you know How high up they are Above us And he lives in an ascended dimension, But he insists, he says Her transcendence is upon us He said Your transcendence is upon us He says these things, And then just vanishes So she gets up promptly Warms up yesterday's coffee Looks around in her coffin And wonders What for I just Wonder what it's like to be loved by stars Without double r's, you know I've got scars But it's mostly just Teardrops, and soft kisses On my guitar Cause, oh, Oli, I ain't got nobody— And nobody holds me Like I hold Oli (Could have been Ali, But of course— I had already lost that one A whole well of tears, I lost At his departure And a whole well more When I actually lost him I almost miss Having someone to talk to About anything and everything But I've got Oli And God now I've got Oli And Oli (oli) Is all that I've got Besides God That's the only contact In my Phone book No more double Ls And double entendres; No more double rs At all Just scars now No more metaphors. Honest is radical I like them cynical I should have clinical insanity by now But I'm only just an artist You can't help But can only harm that And if it hurts hard enough I'll put art on my walls Become permanent Storybooks all over my arms now My coat of arms now I've run Ten point 5 miles In the last 3 days; But if I rest today Will a motorcycle gang Have a parade outside of my window, To drive me crazy? I hope it rains, So they can't play these games with my head And the seeds that I planted So deep become daisies I still don't remember The way he rearranged me But these days I make my name sound So the way He can never say it Just imitates The way I hate myself I should be dating But expressions are Atrocious If I fall asleep— Who knows I may get Stolen That tends to happen So I'm All the way up And I'm swollen in ways That I hate to say “I love you” Love me back Or say it harder That's my martyrdom Come off the cross, for a moment, Would you for us? And bend over Or bow, if you will? If I did, Would you still call me wicked Or just a Good witch Since I'm a woman, I just couldn't be Jesus, Who you asked for once And always Who you asked for some To save you from your Credit reports And consorts Or some sort of Nonsense [famous last words] God don't speak much English, She says God don't speak much these days We were Always Telepathic That was way back then When Oedipus Rex Was on the Guest list I was standing at the coat check, asking Why I must take off my hat When entering the service To the bouncer, he says “That's just politics” I said, That's just politics We both said, What's the difference Then we all laughed —then we all just laughed and laughed Exchange is my favorite exchange Where my favorite exchanges Have happened for centuries Of engagements Endeared species, And races pieces haven't tasted the same Since I haven't had them Animal products And animal planet I found this hat on Discovery channel Did you want it? I can't stand it So I had to have it back I just had to use the bathroom I just had to disconnect From [] See— I don't even have to put the words in Cause a name is just words When that's a man You just can't have And that's the worse When that's a man And you can't have him What a habit. Silky rabbit. Now he's the Ace. All In A Day's Work I've never died before. Oh… that is terrifying. It sounds terrible. It's really not that bad. Why are you not writing this down? I just need a moment… It's really not that bad… I die all the time. I get sensory overload At Trader Joe's Look at the colors The clothes, This sure isn't queensborough Escalators for shopping carts I get it Manhattan I'll take my half BLVCK ass to the projects Where my kind are I don't belong here , God you're intolerant I like this part of town But I'm way too brown And I dropped my crown at the market I should be jealous of everyone But I have learned my place I've been a slave since Hollywood I lost my son to the devil Now I pay child support And terrorist follow me coughing I'm wrong just for being born ! You could start a war from it If that's what you wanted I'm a people watcher people watcher About to board the people mover People mover Slip, Here's the tell Slip, here's the tell I should have a bell around my neck I think she wanted a picture with papa I'm playin my own paparazzi Look mom, I bought a sarcophagus There go them niggas with coughs again I been watching em Got binoculars I got oculus, for my oculars Look how hot he is, make me ovulate Man I gotta love it, Cause they love to hate Fucking racist crazies Have it your way I paid for it with my soul You hate but I love to love Somebody just got me fuckes up I don't have a book to run off of Shut up, honey. Now we're all up here Monkey in the middle Cause the middle one is weaker It's getting deeper and deeper Like the sinkhole that my sink is Let it sink in I've been syncing my secrets with demons In dreams sequences It's just a reparative injustice Kamasutra for your wondering words and stuff You can have it It's ruined anyway m Look at all this trash Look at all these classless classes Classwars, Racists. Everybody hates us The Asians, Latinx's The other niggas What being black is I'll write it in cursive It's just a curse, here So you can have it I'm moving to Heaven I'm packing my boxes I'm getting a cat, too! His name is Agustus He's a big one And I love him I just wanted a hug or a husband Instead I got nothing to trying my hardest And got for a bargain at target some coffee For being a targeted body All on an algorithm I guess I'm just useless. A dumb nigger demon Did I just offend you? Then you shouldn't be reading this either I wrote it for pleasure (Or pain) On the one Or the two Or the one Or the two I could do a lot with this $20. I could spend it all on Fuck all of you I'm moving to Heaven Where the heart it She's not harmless She's a terrorist— And I'll kill her, too Look how right she is Look how white she is, Huh Regardless of color It's a race war Lil biiiiitzzz Yooo, fuck New York. In every hole. In every crevice. Fuck this place. It's racist— Not just cause I'm black. Like statistically. It took a whole ass apartment elsesrch to feature this out. I was like “I wanna live in Manhattan” Everyone was like “NOOOOOOOO—-“ Haha “Nooo, no.” I was like “Why not?” The blacks were like: HAHA The whites were like— *COUGHS OBNOXIOUSLY* New York is so racist. It is statistically the most diverse—and most segregated city in the nation At the same time. WHAT. How do you even DO that? But it's true, at this point, the black people are like—fuck this, we'll just stay over here, and over here. And the rich whites are like YES. KEEP THAT SHIT, OVER THERE. Cause if you've ever been to the ghetto. It's some SHIT, It is NOT COOL. I finally got my ‘night card' back. Had it revoked in california . I was almost a whole valley girl. I still eat exclusively at Whole Foods. Trader Joe's. But NO. Now i live in the hood. It's fucking disgusting. I can say ‘nigga' again. Cause it's NIGGAS. Lots of niggas. I'm telling you. It's night and day! The white folks trains smell like bleach— Ammonia. The black folks train smell like a McDonald's. WHAT. Or just— Vomit. I can actually count the number of times just— Vomit—- On the train. Or. Dookie. Yes. Human feces. But I'm ready to go to midtown and it's like the train that goes around Disneyland. Families! People singing! Hey—cotton candy!! —and I didn't have to pick it! Haha! Fuck New York. Racist ass HOLE. I thought surely the next presidential election was one or two years out, but the racial tensions which had been rising became even more pronounced, as I realized that November was theboncoming time—and that they hostility between the whites and the blacks had once again been a result as the oncoming war, fueled onward—that the hatred, disgust, and general aggression of the whites had been of course, in the midsts of yet another Trump-fueled political upheaval, and I wondered why and how at all I had been caught in such a world that existed in form of man, of course, now proven himself to be the weaker sex, and yet in that of dominance, as was arranged in such an unholy war, to be the helm of power by sheer greed— now it seemed that these attacks were indeed political terrorism, and that these motorcyclists, my placement close to the ground level, and my neighbor's clammorings were specific attacks, after my identity had been varied to be that of the same in which I had once held political ambition, now none of which I assumed mattered at all. Perhaps I needed something more certain than a 12 story jump or suicide by train, and wondered as to whether it would be easy enough to kill myself bh self inflicted gunshot—a sure thing for certain, as love has been lost in the way of money at all. At that party…or rather, kind of—after. That acid that never hit Beyoncé I don't feel it. Man, I'm a terrible influence(r) Just take it. Nah, I'm good— PUSSY. -_- Give me three. K. —suddenly hits BEYONCÉ. BEYONCÉ …I got this. [BEYONCE] however, does not Ohh, shit. — “got this.” A very stranded, very sober Johnny depp stumbles upon what appears to be a college frat party, where the only thing they have is light beer, and nobody even recognizes him as a celebrity, because the attendees are all gen z What's even after gen z? The fucking apocalypse. Anyway. The acid hits Beyoncé on her way to make coffee, which extends the trip from the living room to the kitchen infinitely. Multidimensional Anne Hathaway hulks the fuck out and saves the day by ruining everything, which actually fixes everything— and *spoiler* helps Jesus to remain as the king of kings at beer pong. Lol In the late 90s in New York City, the keystone cast of Saturday night live learns of each other's formerly sexret psychic abilities, and uses the radio technologies of Rockefeller plaza to develop a research center for the telepathically gifted, eventually discovering and perfecting time travel. Supacree (the kid version) appears in and out of her ideal and desired realities, baffling ‘the Hollywood people' and later ‘the New York people', becoming the legendary central figure of the Illuminati, as the original timepiece — a pyramid shaped extra terrestrial vehicle which contains an ascended hyper consciousness, which I can't remember how it goes, did the supacree leave to find the Skrillex, or was it the other way around? I think it was both ways at some point, but the whole thing was this, just in case I never wrote it but just saw— These space god (humanoid evolved) are some kind of scientists/ doctors— there are four timepieces, each representing an era upon our planet; earth, which is distant but sacred— these four time pieces each depart their given “docs” in time to appear on earth at specific Fuck this is hard to explain Times in history, at which the first worlds, or previous human eras were known to have been destroyed— these time pieces travel through time space with the full record of these events in order to alert the current human era of its imminent doom, as an attempt to prevent such disasterous events, typically war, which will lead to the annihilation of the human species; these Gods, one male and one female, a king and queen, a married couple are the rules of the humankind, technically worshiped as a whole as one God, with whom the human design was modeled after, however, the true source of all things is the cosmos, known and unknown, in its totality—neither man or woman, but the force of creation. Anyway, what else is happening Oh. All of the celebrities are stuck in— [the festival project] in some way, shape, or form until its creator finishes it—and though it in itself is infinite, its 'finishing' notates its eventual production, which lol. That never going to happen. Because. Let's face it. I'm scared of …rich people. Yeah, sure. Yeah. I'm scared of The effect of the race war, which has been to pit the white woman against the black woman, which allows and maintains the continuation of war mongering male dominance over the entire planet, which remains as a destructive force of greed, racism, and inequality. So why try? [EDITS] CONAN O'BRIEN Alright. If she hit Fallon, she's gonna come for one of us next. No, Conan—that's not how this works. WHAT—where did you come from!? When did you get here? JAY LENO This goes deeper than all of you can understand. WHAT the FUCK, man! When did you-/ —when did he get here? How did you do that?! How did you do that?! What are you, like, the same guy? Are you not all the same guy? [they shrug simultaneously and kind of just agree] Listen at this. Okay then. The enemy of your friend is my enemy. Oh…kay—and the enemy of my enemy—is my friend— That is correct. —so we're all friends here. That's right. Some special forces? Which forces? How special? [JENNIFER LOPEZ is still JENNY FROM THE BLOCK] Do I look like a fool to you? Uh— OOPS [a pre-fame Jennifer Lopez receives a drop full of diamonds instead of the usual; she has been granted access into the Illuminati, and becomes an overnight success.] This feels heavier than usual. Same as always. Hm. Are you sure. Yep. Hey, you're not the regular guy. Regular guy died. That makes sense. JENNIFER ANNISTON is inside of Ū Okay, grosss Not like that [lifting max weight] Okay. That was cool. Wow. Yeah, sure whatever. I am strong Yeah yeah, okay. Are you sure you want to be my size? Yep. JIMMY FALLON/SKRILLEX (we don't know actually which at this point) is also trapped inside of Ū Okay, gross! Yeah. SKRILLEX is in all of Ū. okay—actually, i'm okay with that, but That other guy?! [JIMMY FALLON] Yeah, he's weird. Also meanwhile, kind of— MARSHALL MATHERS has a closet cleaning service lol. Patrick is smooth as a motherfucker, you know. Every time his head is down on the desk like that, he takes a bump of coke. What?! Big uh! [Patrick takes bumps of cocaine in front of a live studio audience—every single night.] Woah! See. Goddamn. You gotta admire a guy like that. Jennifer Anniston is the weight on the cable tension machine Ooh. Psycho bitch devious methods new ludachris commercial All ya'll girls is toddlers I like long boards and longhairs Lawn mowers and lawn shares Aw hell nah, God forgot Cher I got the Blair witch project On Blair, I hope I scare you How dare you. Your girl looks like a naked mole rat. I got my soul back. You blue eyed bastards stole everything From the whole blacks, Hold that thought I'm at Whole Foods market throw in the Amazon algorithm off With marked dollars Look at God at Walmart On them rollbacks You old hacks are cackling I'm shackled to old habits Hold hands with me, rabbit I'm just a silly rapper really, are you? Maybe. Cut the verse of Reverse God Now I'm the devil I'm still lost in the Amazon cart I sharted all up in your pop tarts Before you warmed them up, pops Just for the sake of the art, Heart to heart, It's a war on love And the white girls won with nothin but Buckets of Whatever's up there I wouldn't know Cause I'm stuck job searching And running, Trying not to have a tummy So some gummy worm will love me First their sour, then they're sweet Then nobody, Trolli Holy moly I could use some more petroleum in the ocean! Said nobody But the globalists are performing your programming Which you're worshiping I put my eye on the dollar So I could watch you all Crumble and fall Don't you know The apocalypse is happening at the mall Of all the places How's that for a stream of consciousness, You salamander I asked Anandar back But I went past that chapter Have a chap Or a chapstick, for four times four dollars A bottle of water will cost you a fortune (But at least the drugs are in it) Get it It's recycled piss Distilled? Which is it, Mr,? The mystery box was literally lifted into My dinner from a fishery filled with nothing but niggers in it— I want a refund, before I catch that Fucking curse of poverty from — what'd you call it salmonellahallibut One hell of a cough from someone on the sidewalk But guess what? The devil's in your pocket or your palm, And that's the omen and the psalm rolled into one Cause God is awesome, But my mom is fuckin toxic And that's how I fuckin got here Blow my head off, Slit my wrists And write a song While jumping off a bit When all you need is money, But the world costs more than It's worth, and words are nothing But another fucking problem in your Google documents I look at my son and see a God, But half of Satan's in him, Oh man Robotics Lets be honest, I don't even know how to write this. Where's my sides?! WHERE'S MY SIDES. You don't get SIDES with this; It's just CHICKEN. I don't eat CHICKEN. It appears as though, however– You do. Ok, I gotta get off this playlist. I… i gotta . “The Wal*Mart Wars” Hm. … …………. …. *face* … no. No. l– What is this place. {After a wild night which apparently spiraled out of control, great , there goes my peace. Not forever, though, maybe. FUCK THIS PLACE. I HATE THIS PLACE. Everybody hates this place. But the album is called “I love New York” Yes, thats Technically How it's pronounced, though It's stylized like I _ NY Cause. EXT. MIDTOWN MANHATTAN. DAY Oh, wow, this is beautiful. THis is great. I love this place FUCK THE FEDS. CUT TO: EXT.Typically WHEREVER ELSE Anywhere ‘above' like 87th? Lets just call it 80th, be safe. BE SAFE! NIGGAZ. ah shit, i gotta go. BITCH– But lets just be honest, It's technically ‘above' But it's really [THE BRONX is a literal extension of the Underworld] Oh no. srsly tho. X_c Anyway. FUck man, Do you think i'll ever get good like that. Idk what equipment is this Hmm, lets see, that's approximately $8,000 USD of CDJs wow yep That's retarded Yep. And you still need a mixer. fukt. OKay, I would literally sell my soul for this. Consider it done. wait , really? YES. you earned it. Wait, I– What?! You earned it… Uh oh. Take care now. Shit. [BILLIE ELLISH is trapped inside WALMART] Uh oh. Fuck. what is this place. INT. WALMART. WHENEVER EMPLOYEESLAVES WHAT TIME IS IT. THERE'S NO WINDOWS IN HERE. That's not funny IT'S literally a synonym, we might as well make it a portemantau MEanwhile, in this other dimension, So that i don't offend anybody… Actually, you know what? Be offended. Quit that stupid fuckin shit and follow your dreams! Wait really? Wait, really? Sure! If you want! …i guess. AMERICA NO. INSTANT HOMELESSNESS ok , nvm. Damn. I know, right. wtf r u guys watching. Shut up. All Wal*Mart Employees are actually top secret government agents. x ∞ >.< (we'll just use Billie Ellish as the alternate, but really it could be Could it really? Shut UP, PLURNICORN. Wtf is a PLURNICORN We'll see. [Upon Realizing s/he is trapped in a mysterious place apparently extremely public Wait, you've never been to a Wal*Mart Before?! NO. I grew up in LA Rich as fuck And i've been famous since I was liike 12, Or something. Right. That is–kind of terrifying. LATER: WHY IS IT SNOWING INSIDE. WHERE'S THE EXIT. THEY HAVE GUNS?! oh wow, they have GUNS. WHY DO WE NEED GUNS! KA-BLAM. BECAUSE THEY HAVE GUNS. Bang-bang! Ptttttttttt—sttt. And they have guns. Actually, these are just– confetti cannons. *pop!* Lol “Possibly The Worst Show Ever the infinite rave continues on in Hell as everyone awaits the return of SŪPACREE- The Cosmic Avenger (Who Is NOT a DJ) and Sunnï Blū (who is a superstar rapper but also not a DJ) go back to back, buying time as the beacon to. Signal "The Supacree" is completed, battling the 10th dimensional DJ Ū, a super ninjas, for control of the decks. what else happened? idk. I CANT STOP DANCING. none of the DJs can find a pair of working headphones, and the sound guy is missing from the booth. "missing" YOU SHOT HIM. I THOUGHT IT WAS A TRANQ DART. {Enter The Multiverse} “TVP” Hazel is 6, turns 7 season 1 Season 7- 15 Man, I can't remember the other two kids names, I think the little boy is Ira but I might have named them all and forgotten, shit. Her sister, though is between 4 ½ and 5, they are technically “Irish twins”, and always fighting—they look very similar, however are not at all alike; Hazel is very much a daddy's girl, while her younger sister is a no-nonsense old soul with the tendency to cause trouble, not by being inquisitive or showy, as her sister often is, but rather by being quietly observant, and tends to dismiss both her parents, often isolating, or even dissappearing without notice, quietly and comfortably into her own world—as the series progresses, and though all of Patrick's children like their parents have showcased some kind of special ability or talent— Holy shit, give this kid a name-/ I thought I already named her, I just don't remember. That's true. It seems like they all had names. She is almost very typically, though showing signs of genius, even at the early age at the beginning of the series, a middle child, prone to upset almost too easily, but rather than acting out, is more likely to take her anger quietly; she shares her fathers deep brown eyes, dark hair, and though she looks otherwise very much like her sister, and later despises her father, is more inwardly and outwardly like him, though taking the side of her mother during their separation and divorce, oftentimes even lashing out at her father quite openly, and very vocally, as she grows into herself. “Ira”, (may have had another name earlier) is the youngest of three— as his third birthday approaches sometime during the first season. Great, now I gotta hide all those allegories so nobody can actually draw from this that Patrick— Where's his write up, anyway? That shit could go on for days. I have no idea why this catharsis is happening. I tried to sleep it off, I swear, but I still woke up like— At least mildly obsessive about this, for whatever reason. Hazel's 7 - Season Arc Hazel has the eyes, charm, and charisma for entertainment —she hopes to one day be as her father, an entertainer and performer, and will do almost anything for a laugh. She is often telling jokes, and is a people- pleaser. She is sickeningly cute, with golden hair and Hazel eyes, long eye lashes, and carries baby fat in her face, though she is rather average, neither heavy or plump, and however also not frail at all. She is inquisitive, smart, and busy, almost never idle-minded, and strong. Though sort of a Tom boy, she has been trained well to act with dignity, class, and feminine eloquence, much like her mother—but like her father, has a tendency to be crass, sometimes carelessly so, or even brutally honest—to her mother's disdain, but embraced wholesomely by other family members and adults, she's extremely funny and delightful, and very much unlike her mother, not a spoiled brat at all, often raising questions beyond her years about inequality, later wishing to attend a public school, and becoming quite the advocate for social justice and human rights in her later years, her final season shows a rebellious and sometimes even antagonistic Hazel, who later even favors Esha over her own mother as a parental figure, often confiding in her about things she can't and shouldn't share with her father, although her almost over the top admiration for her father has become the driving force and inspiration for her own endeavors in show business, much to her father's disdain, as she grows older, him becoming more protective of her, and especially within the oftentimes secretive nature of his actual placement and purpose in the business, and her rebellious nature and charm even force-feeding her into the industry, she is a bleeding heart for superstardom, and is often seen along what may be a path to fame, making Patrick's bleeding heart all the more aching, as though he and Catherine remain at odds throughout the series, he truly loves his children, even “the little sick one”, as he refers to the second child. Holy shit, what is this kid's name If I had the energy to go through my notes, I could know; but I don't. The city sickness has been sinking in from the noise of the obnoxious motorists and honestly, being out of protein is giving me muscle soreness, I'm in some sort of a bloated haze from eating almost nothing but carbs, and the fact that I haven't been with anyone in years is starting to circle like buzzards around my head, my heart has been literally screaming but overwhelming with this sense of calm, and though slipping into Patrick's sometimes erratic tendencies, for the most part I've been underwhelmed with society's expectations that I should get some kind of job, and somehow while working not lose focus on my own interests and projects—I hate [the strange modern behaviors of] most people, and everything costs too much money— my son might be going into foster care, or my ex husband is evil enough just to try to force my energy to worry about a problem he's created, and I really wanted to sleep into the afternoon with this lethargy, hoping that everything surrounding this series would just fall off, but it doesn't. I wake up often wishing I could just forget The Festival Project ™ , but the truth is, it just keeps writing itself, but in the very least, sometimes God gives me little presents that mean the very most to me— a chord organ that I thought was from the 80's, but is more likely from the 1960's— I love vintage stuff, and musical instruments, which only God could know, really—my fascination with history as if I'm still living it, and this, my sudden fascination and drive to write and complete just one series has been haunting me almost just as badly as anything else has, but especially ripping me apart—especially since I have motorcyclists ripping through my body as if it were some kind of disease that existed outside of me, so contagious that it began to sink in to my insanity and mental hygiene. I wondered if anybody else knew or cared about these creatures as much as I didn't—and in fact, I had never felt so much like Ali in the way that I didn't care if they, other “human beings” supposedly, all died tragically, and wondered why the walls and windows didn't keep out the sound of the outside world at all… The middle child begins writing secretly very early on, and is the first to be required more extensive therapy, (as suggested by the family's therapist) after her parent's separation and subsequent divorce. It is not long after she begins learning to read and write at all, that she begins also showing interests in art, asking for art lessons and to begin painting and art therapy, rather than the recommended Equine therapy— she often keeps things to herself, then returning to her hidden places at times when the family's dysfunction becomes uncomfortable and overstimulating, very often paining or reading during times of peace, and retreating to her safe places—sometimes under the stairs, into the attic, the treehouse, or even later, the family's barnyard, where she often keeps drawings, as she ages, later comics, sometimes caricatures of the things she absorbs through her own reality—and diaries, sometimes hidden in nooks and crannies and in places no one would think; a true prodigy and genius, though hidden from much the world, as she is often overlooked, however, her therapist begins unfolding her true reality, often times carrying over sessions and losing track of time, picking her brain or even conversations philosophically What's the therapists name? Doctor Robin She has to have a last name Well, she's a child's therapist, so she's Doctor Robin, but It seems like it starts with a T. We'll see. I just saw her anyway. I drifted off again, thinking about how wildly detailed this all was becoming, and wondered if there was a series of fictional books waiting to be written. There certainly could be, but my mind was reeling, freshly showered but still undressed, and not even wanting to think of going outside—and yet—I was out of water, and had learned that the drinking water from the fountains, especially in large quantities, had a tendency to make me sick—I hadn't yet eaten anything, and though the coffee was fresh, and my apartment was clean (which made me overtly overjoyed for some reason) smelling of Lemon Lysol and Bleach; with notes of a strong pot of organic fresh ground coffee, it seemed like I couldn't do much more than lay in bed writing this catastrophically interesting series—and it was interesting, which said volumes, considering I had always been picky about my TV watching, being that only ever did certain series catch my eyes or my ears, and those series were almost always—or always, always specifically well written, perfectly casted, and had the edge and draw of becoming an entire world within itself, which this series, though only a week or two old at best, in my heart and in my mind , was rampantly ravaging my own world, almost as if it had become of some importance to keep writing it, and never stop, and though Patrick was the forefigure, another broken male protagonist, the truth in the series was that the true heroes of this sometimes scarily violent drama, were its women—a story meant to be told with a diversified cast of creatures from all worlds and walks of life—Esha, of course, herself, a role that had been some recreation of myself, somehow, though so different that even primarily, I never did see myself as her, besides the onslaught of some otherworldly pain, visions of a scene recollected from some remarkable download, and it might have been once and for all that I had lost my mind, or my life, if I wasn't a writer—I was, somehow, though, after all, a writer. It had been a fasting day that could have and might have ended tragically anyway, and still the devil marked his mockery of my efforts by consistently flinging perfect bodied women everywhere that I went—though usually with ugly enough faces that I could see nothing but what a man was—uncaring for one thing over the other, a flawless representation of woman, represented in the current time with scantily clad fashion, almost painfully so—the insecurity of women becoming more apparent in the way she would appear, always almost begging to be near to me, with every perfection and complexion I hadn't—but at least I had a tendency to laugh at my own damage, often surmising that she, these demon creatures, hadn't any talent for this at all—which had turned the state of television into a near circus act; that alone urged me to continue writing the series, perhaps with a typewriter, due to the negligence of nepotism within the industry which often resulted in these pretty little creatures getting even further ahead by stealing works as such, and passing them on as their own originality almost so cruelly and without judgement—plagiarism, as it was called, but more accurately intent-to-kill the imminent threat of what had been said to be a minority becoming a more powerful force to flourish in entertainment however, as quickly as the visions had come, the thought of writing it without my phone became dauntingly impractical, and I scribbled only the most intense scenes and plot lines onto notebooks and scratch papers, keeping them as hidden from the algorithm as possible… lol the Al Gore Rhythm Ahahahahahahaha Was that the joke? Maybe. Idk. Maybe. Idk. Hm. Hmmmmm: What: Nothing. That actually might have been it. Really, was it? I will never know. That is kind of a good dad joke, though. And a good band name. Idk about that. My coffee was lukewarm enough so that I could taste its flavor, as I whittled away at whatever it was— The story was almost so beautifully being told in allegories and parables that it seemed a shame I may never be rich enough to buy fame, as it seemed that was the only way to become a star these days— and yet—it was more the wealth than the fame I wanted, I had realized, at all—the polished class of the Manhattanites drawing me out of Brooklyn and into some debauchery which was my own Grandiose thought form, that I could actually become, at the ripe old age of 31, some kind of superstar. ‘Why would I even want that, anyway?' I thought, interrupted painfully by who I'm sure was the same motorist, who seemed to do nothing but circle the block all day, and all night, doing nothing — and I wondered why he himself had decided not to do grub hub in a richer neighborhood, where money would more than likely come more easily. But really— I drifted off to a time where I wanted to ride a motorcycle myself, and the curiosity forced me to go online to check the price of what it might cost to have one. $5,000 for a decent bike, which would include a muffler as not to be so obnoxious and disturbing to others as these creatures had become to me— and I began doing the math on how long it would take to save $5,000 as if it would be possible to work some dead end job for any amount of time without spending money on anything else. It would take at least 5 months to earn enough for a motorcycle, which landed me directly back at “Not worth it”, and as horrible as it was, I did at the very least have a luxury apartment for at minimum the next 5 years, however, wanting still to move to Manhattan, Midtown specifically—or one of the quaint and quiet neighborhoods on the upper West Side. The neighborhood was going to hell, after some unworldly godless force had seemed to drop hundreds of thousands of rude and thoughtless third world workers onto the streets and buildings bordering the one I lived on, the neighborhood becoming more rough and less peaceful with trash and debris from the depression and congenital disease that was poverty, the collective unconsciousness of the masses colliding with my empathetic nature and oversensitivity to sound, especially awful sounds, such as the hundreds of motorcycles and hot rodded junk cars which only seeemed to move in a track around a four block radius, and had become a cancerous trigger of sorts, no authority figure seemed to much care about. I cared less and less each day to listen to music, since I wasn't making it the way I wanted to—and I had realized that the constant displeasure and unrest, the lack of peace had as much to do with the world outside as it did with the world within—and I began to see the disgusting obnoxious noise pollution outside my window as just an extension of man's abuse, ability to rape, torture, and kill, terrorize— the uncaring waging of war, control, and lack of true power; as no good and true man who wielded actual strengeth or true power in any way would continue to show such distructive action and carelessness for others around him— chaos, corruption, abuse, and misogyny was proving to be the downfall of all humankind, as patronaged by man, and, as I became doubtful of anyone's lack of understanding of this, especially as the immigrants themselves were often naturally pedophillic culturally and toxically abusive in nature, most migrants flocking from countries in which women's liberation or the protection of youth had not yet materialized into their understanding of conciousness and morality—the men were weak, unkind, and selfish—the women mere machines at their disposal—and however many there were, I could see that their children, the many of them, remained as the redeeming factor. Anyway, a political ploy for the ages of there ever was such a thing, the newest chapter in American greed and slavery, it only seemed like an extension of evil itself, and less of a coincidence with each growing day—each new person, another burden to the middle class taxpayer, another reason to inflate the cost of living—and all the more reason to continue to terrorize the American people into its own division, hatred, demise, and consumption. e. My faith, however, was unwavering—God was real, but these abusive and toxic creatures were pushing it further away with violent arrogance, and the inability to understand that God itself was the nature they continued to destroy. Robin Bennett Fine. “My name's —ahem— “Ron Sennet, and I ain't In it.” —did the say “don't” write a book about me? It's Not about him… Or something cute he used to say like that, I couldn't remember, but he had a bunch of cute little idioms that matched his name, and to the day, I still missed him — it was 11:15 PM exactly as I hung up the phone, after an unsuccessful attempt to reach 911, after realizing that the threat outside was maddening enough to be impossible to only be in my head, and after weeks of the excruciating noise, I finally called NYPD dispatch, much to my disdain, and of course magically, the noise seemed to disappear, but these abusive and toxic creatures were pushing it further away with violent arrogance, and the inability to understand that God itself was the nature they continued to destroy. Robin Bennett Fine. “My name's Jon Sennet, and I ain't In it.” Or something cute he used to say like that, I couldn't remember, but he had a bunch of cute little idioms that matched his name, and to the day, I still missed him — it was 11:15 PM exactly as I hung up the phone, after an unsuccessful attempt to reach 911, after realizing that the threat outside was maddening enough to be impossible to only be in my head, and after weeks of the excruciating noise, I finally called NYPD dispatch, much to my disdain, and of course magically, the noise seemed to disappear as soon as I had made the call, which infuriated me. It seemed as though the game in entirety to make me look or feel crazy, though I knew I wasn't—well, I was, but not without purpose or reason. I had been theorizing in energy exchange quite decisively making a mark for my alter, at which I asked to be designated the wisdom and truth of the light within the eye, desire, however never in mind, although I had been summoned in part due to the fact that we were somehow alike—I was in some ways besides and out of sorts with my set, sinking my teeth into the forced obsession as I unraveled any possibilities and plotline. Episode 01. Pilot An opportunity presents itself seemingly at random— the protagonist's hand is forced into a life changing ultimatum, putting his reuputation and family in danger. Already involved in an illegal gambling ring which operates out of a secret historical prohibition era speakeasy and some “light” drug mulling within its walls, however often extending even as dangerously close to his workplace, Patrick is propositioned to become an investor in the high end escort service, with which he hired and contracted his lover, Kandi, a “rescue” whom he supports in her exchange for exclusivity, to remain as her only client, however, although he begrudgingly declines, wishing not to be involved in anything much more than what he has already kept under the radar, he is intimidated and threatened by blackmail, his high profile becoming at stake—he then obliges to embark upon this new endeavor, the expansion of this establishment to include a warehouse, which houses a large scale brothel, and, able to use his social status to procure wealthy clientele, quickly becomes a power player within a ring of coveted elites, setting fire to his already inflated ego, and colliding with his intense and highly functional polyaddiction, which he has maintained since his youth, using his entertainment persona as an outlet, becoming a medium of excess, fame, and rampant wealth. Patrick is beloved by his peers, and is humbled often by his devoted fans and friends—proactively worshiped as a comic genius, a prodigy, and a revered successor to legendary frontmen— Okay, this is weird, because I started writing this before I even understood what I was writing at all… —specifically, the sixth successor, to his coveted role. I had written for Esha to be the seventh successor, as with the symbolism deeply and quite literally woven into the sometimes brutal framework of the series, which I had shorthanded to ‘TVP'…the world around me trailed off as my eyes blurred as they had been lately, and I wondered if I might be having some kind of stroke or something, as I was certainly some sort of out of body—the day had been strange, and I had given up on a run or a gym for the day, the motorcycles alone ravaging my energy, and whether I worked out or not, they were ever present anyway. They were some sort of toxic, abusive force I just had to put up with, hoping it didn't upset my psychology so much that it ended me, though I had become quite odd as of recently, rambling more than usual and actually praying out loud, as my silent ones just didn't seem to be working—they were probably white supremacists, or in some way connected to some political terror group, but it didn't seem to matter. Someone liked torturing me, and it was becoming apparent that no matter much time I spent at the gym, this torture was going to persist. After a month long gym streak, at least going once a day to lift something, I rested, or rather, tried to rest, kind of— but my mind had been swirling with thoughts of a man I was certain by now I had made up—and writing the story of a man I was absolutely certain came from my mind, but in a way that it almost made no sense at all—as the more I looked into the world that I had already written about, the more I realized was accurate without first having known these things, and however cursed I might have been to even know such things, I decided to call it some sort of blessing instead. ‘God, I used to get so fucking high for days, and when I would come down, just crying and crying, eating Totinos or DiJorno and a bag of Bugles, I would watch Saturday Night Live for fucking hours, and I hated [Redacted]. I hated him.' Now I still hated [Redacted], but in a different way, and though really it was myself that was more like Patrick, he at the very least, for whatever reason, used to have his face—now, he was just Patrick, and [Redacted] was just [Redacted], and i knew entirely too much about it all, and about myself to be comfortable with it, but nothing was comfortable at all. I had written entire atrocities, novels, and all that was some conglomerate of nonsense which was the festival project, besides how insanely and innately prodigal it all was sometimes, my own words confusing me with a bizarre and asinine dysfunction, awe, actually, often as if someone else had written them, and although I was always at least sort of semi-conscious while writing, the spells and cadences I would fall under were some sort of trance, and as I watched the Nirvana rehearsal from Saturday Night Live in 1992, long before [Redacted] or any of the rest of the — Was it Keystone? It was, the Keystone cast of SNL, but the first word my mind had jumped to was Hallmark, which—after referencing Google quickly for a fact check, also stood true. I was willing to admit, even now, though I had long lost interest in Saturday Nighy Live, or anything at all having to do with current events, that the [Redacted] era—or rather even, the Tina Fey era, a true role model, perhaps, and someone I favored over all of the performers I admired, or allowed myself to admire— the Golden Years of Saturday Night were the only years, for me that even mattered— trying to make sense of anything couldn't be done, but I at least had this new project birthed from it to think about. It would be hard to sit down at a taping of The View and not think about all I had written at all, and it would be impossible not to unfold the characters which had presented themselves, though slowly but surely, through the most vivid visions and insanely lucid dreams, as The TV People began to What if someone steals this out of my documents? That would be unwise…the best scenes are somewhere scribbled in my notebooks and random scraps of paper somewhere in my room…this series is almost nothing without those scenes—the elements with which the most painful scenes I had ever written, became word form. ‘I don't know why, but I feel so incredibly high, So incredibly high right now…' They could have been words to a song, but I did feel high as a kite for whatever reason, without the actual kite metaphor quite literally dagling over my head, for once, or at least, it had been a few weeks, not a prominent as is was before. I sat soaking in the tub teetering on the possibility that I should actually even watch The Tonight Show, or whatever it was, to set my mind at ease, a betrayal of my own code—as one does not literally feed its obsessions into insanity on purpose. ‘Perhaps, though', I thought, ‘I could get rid of this.' — A cancerous abscess in the tradegy that had become my own sex fueled, rage driven, racing mind—and rather admittedly, it was almost too late, for anything of the sort, as I hadn't any other place to keep the growing world of The Television People any quieter, than within the monstrous algorithm which was Google documents cloud, where it seemed nothing was safe, and anything could be fabricated into reality after being stolen, by someone rich enough to make it happen, however, never being any better than my own disaster of a creation. And it was, a disaster. He was a comic genius, a professional, and spectacular performer— in actuality, I knew nothing if not anything at all about him, and the more I collected, the more interesting I found myself, actually, bemused that I seem to have found some sort of twin, another synchronization nightmare—if only that I made it to be so, unbelieving yet that I was in some kind of fairytale, though it had become some sort of fantastical and adventurous thing, this what I now refer to as ‘the allegories,'. I must have been something parasitic to the industry, with the tendency to latch on and ride out whatever had become a fascination, but it wasn't, in its sense of origin, like anything before— it was something new, in the ways that it was, and something old at the same time—though needing to fall drastically from The Tower without actually doing so, putting a stop to my unlimited creation became a pertinent priority, as even exercising, meditating, and chronic masturbation tended to exacerbate it, as if I was missing a step in transmutation of this foreign substance— an energy which seemed familiar, but also wasn't. I was receiving downloads several hours at a time, and drifting off into spells and trances of inspiration so heavily that it seemed counterintuitive to call it off, fearing I might lose the intensity of the plot and its characters, and they were that: just characters. It had taken days to erase Patrick's face into a blank state to restore him from that of his namesake, but now everything was a blur, the allure of scrapping it all to return to making music was upon some sort of dawning, but not yet arrived. I allowed whatever came to mind to flow freely from my fingertips, even if it felt bizzare—and even if it felt bizarre, it never felt wrong at all. ‘Unfortunate, that.' , I thought crossing one leg over another to complete my chapter before draining the tub. I promised myself long ago to always pray for my own son, before worrying about another celebrity, whose fame and fortune protected them more than I ever seemed to protect myself or my own—nonsense, but a strong sense of remorse, as I had been painted as wicked, in a sense, just for being kept poor, separated from my son, and left in a world without love at all; My project, a keepsake of the hard work I had done; but had not yet been paid for—and the fear was in the understanding that that money might not ever come, that I would never be a mother, a muse, or anything or anyone else I actually wanted. I thought briefly again about just getting a dog—but I only had 45 dollars, aside from the unmarked Jimmy Fallons, I had placed atop an alter on my kitchen counter, wondering how to multiply them into something I wanted—and that had been the start of the game or the project at all— saving my last dollars and spending them at once, with the hopes and wishes that they would become somehow much larger quantities, returned as good karma for the love I had given, but that had not yet come back, in one form or another. ‘He seems miserable, the poor bloak.' , I thought—and with all that I had known to have come with fame and fortune along with the luck, he probably somewhere, somehow was—but my concern was my son, turning the mere dollars somehow from one's into bundles of hundreds, thousands, and maybe even one day a whole million or more. That was the push behind the project at all—breaking the cycle of the poor black single mother, the story that had been told over and over-/ with stories that had not; the stories that had become [The Festival Project™]# Sai Psy. See you in seven years, then. You're so silly— I'm not going to live seven more years. We'll see about that. You will see. I'll be dead. So I'll be dead. So it is. A summer hiatus, Vacations in Prague, yes Let's pray for the rest of us A sign of the times and a coming of ages Who made you famous again As the rest of us I don't like it As much as I'd like to Keep writing Keep finding the reason to die and you're blinded by kindnesses And I Ams I woke up in the 9th dimension, As an infinite friend Familiar with my kitchen JOHN SLATTERY An interesting thing happened this morning. What's that, John? I woke up as John Slattery Just remember what love holds The death of a salesman, rechargeable batteries This walk could take forever in designer jeans Another day in slave hell The controllers controlling And Satan is Sataning Seems like a time to go clubbing It's a simple kind of depression Resting on your head when All you simply wished is the taste of flesh The freedom of skin And the lather of love— Or blood spatter on the pavement Aim for the head If the door's fixed, then we'll break it again Look what greed does I hate lazy days in Manhattan Ca

The triune personality of Marshall Mathers, Slim Shady, and Eminem has been controversial since his first album. The shock value and willingness to say the most vulgar thing, often mixed with honest observation, along with his unique talent to rhyme, propelled Marshall to the status of a global cultural symbol. Twenty years ago, his attacks on Bush were justified though his music overall was considered indecent, and conservatives wanted him cancelled. Now the other side of the political spectrum, of which Marshall is part of himself, wishes to cancel Slim Shady for his vulgarity and offensiveness - hence the new album name. Conservatives still find his new songs 'Antichrist' and 'Evil' to be offensives. Separating politics from art, it is also obvious that like all performs the benefits of controversy are a win-win. Sometimes it's just satire. That's the point.-FREE ARCHIVE & RSS: https://www.spreaker.com/show/the-secret-teachings Twitter: https://twitter.com/TST___Radio Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thesecretteachings WEBSITE (BOOKS, RESUBSCRIBE for early show access): http://thesecretteachings.info Paypal: rdgable@yahoo.com CashApp: $rdgable EMAIL: rdgable@yahoo.com / TSTRadio@protonmail.com

It's probably safe to say that by late 2002, Eminem was the most popular rapper in the world.  With three full-length solo albums under his belt, Slim Shady had come quite a long way in the four years since taking the world by storm with The groundbreaking Slim Shady LP in 1999 - introducing the world to his devil-may-care madcap rhymes that ranged from insightful, to absurd, to downright offensive; sometimes all at once. There was no denying Marshall Mathers' talent on the mic - combining the sounds of the underground with a hurricane flow, lyrical wizardry, and pop culture irreverence - Eminem's popularity was bolstered by the frustrated angst of the emerging nu metal, horror-core and even pop punk sounds of the era.  Realistically, he didn't even *sound* like anything from those genres, but his aura was so strong that he became a sort of crossover artist without even needing to actually cross over. It was just *cool* to like Eminem. With the backing of music industry heavy hitters like Dr. Dre and Jimmy Iovine, Eminem also had serious critical credibility - He'd won Rap Grammys for the aforementioned Slim Shady LP and it's lead single ‘My Name Is' in 2000; He followed it up with three more the following year for the likes of The Real Slim Shady, Forgot About Dre, and his sophomore album The Marshall Mathers LP - and would eventually go on to win two MORE Grammys in 2003 for his ‘02 album The Eminem Show and its lead single ‘Without Me'. And, while we're on the topic of the successes of Slim Shady - the records show that by late 2002 Eminem's 3 Solo LPs had gone no less than 18x Platinum in America alone. There is just one thing Em hadn't done yet - and quite honestly I can barely believe it myself - Eminem had never had a US Billboard hot 100 Number 1 Hit. That all changed when Eminem recorded the lead single for his feature film debut - changing how we all thought about Eminem forever. This is the story of Eminem's 'Lose Yourself' with newly unearthed audio from Marshall Mathers himself!

In this episode, we dive deep into Eminem's groundbreaking album, The Marshall Mathers LP, ranked number 80 on Apple Music's Top 100 Albums of All Time. Released in 2000, this album is a masterclass in lyrical genius, blending dark humor, raw emotion, and controversial storytelling. Join us as we break down each track, including the iconic "Stan," the explosive "The Real Slim Shady," and the scathing diss track "Marshall Mathers" where Eminem takes aim at the Insane Clown Posse. We'll also explore the sequel to Snoop Dogg's hit with "Bitch Please II," featuring Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg, and Xzibit. Tune in to discover why The Marshall Mathers LP is considered a cultural milestone and one of the greatest rap albums of all time. Whether you're a die-hard Eminem fan or new to his music, this episode offers a detailed analysis of the album's impact and legacy.

Seth talks about the political people not understanding music, going to the Rays game with some fans and Craig and Rio, Simone Biles and Kevin Durant, Marshall Mathers vs Slim Shady and more. See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

The triune personality of Marshall Mathers, Slim Shady, and Eminem has been controversial since his first album. The shock value and willingness to say the most vulgar thing, often mixed with honest observation, along with his unique talent to rhyme, propelled Marshall to the status of a global cultural symbol. Twenty years ago, his attacks on Bush were justified though his music overall was considered indecent, and conservatives wanted him cancelled. Now the other side of the political spectrum, of which Marshall is part of himself, wishes to cancel Slim Shady for his vulgarity and offensiveness - hence the new album name. Conservatives still find his new songs 'Antichrist' and 'Evil' to be offensives. Separating politics from art, it is also obvious that like all performs the benefits of controversy are a win-win. Sometimes it's just satire. That's the point.-FREE ARCHIVE & RSS: https://www.spreaker.com/show/the-secret-teachingsTwitter: https://twitter.com/TST___RadioFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/thesecretteachingsWEBSITE (BOOKS, RESUBSCRIBE for early show access): http://thesecretteachings.infoPaypal: rdgable@yahoo.comCashApp: $rdgableBuy Me a Coffee: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/tstradioSUBSCRIBE TO NETWORK: http://aftermath.mediaEMAIL: rdgable@yahoo.com / TSTRadio@protonmail.com

Join us on today's pod as we dive into the murky waters of fan service or ‘Stan' service to paraphrase one Marshall Mathers. From comic book adaptations to controversial casting choices like Hugh Jackman as Wolverine to artistic liberties taken such as the racially-diverse Norse gods in the Thor films, we explore where fandom expectations clash with creative vision. Should creators prioritize fan loyalty or forge their own paths? Don't changes have to be made when adapting 50 to 80 year-old IPs? Plus, we dissect the buzz around the Fantastic Four's 1960s revival and eagerly anticipate upcoming adaptations like Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips' Criminal series starring Charlie Hunnam (Sons of Anarchy, The Gentlemen). 

Will Smith: Will Smith drops a new song at the BET Awards! Between this and Bad Boys 4, is this redemption? Police Defecation: The ultimate police protest, taking a dump on the ground while being arrested. The Boy Blue: It has been too long, it's time to check in with The Boy Blue. Is he sober? Is he taking donations? FUCK YOU WATCH THIS!, THE BEAR!, BABYTRON!, BIG SEAN!, EMINEM!, TOBEY!, THE DEATH OF SLIM SHADY!, ACCENT!, NOSTALGIA!, BLEACHED HAIR!, MARSHALL MATHERS!, MUSIC VIDEO!, WHITE RAPPERS!, WILL SMITH!, NEW SONG!, BET AWARDS!, COMEBACK!, INSPIRE!, HOPE!, SUICIDE!, SHAME!, ASHAMED!, KANYE!, FLOW!, SUNDAY SERVICE!, RIP OFF!, THE SLAP!, YOU CAN MAKE IT!, CHRISTIAN!, WORLDSTAR COMMENTS!, SATANIC DISPLAY!, LADY SHITS!, SHITTING WHILE ARRESTED!, CROWD!, HYPED!, EXCITED!, TURD!, SHITTING WITHOUT PISSING!, DAVIDMOXX!, FALL OFF!, COMEBACK!, SPIDER!, BUG!, DRINK!, CHECKING FEE!, NEED HELP!, PEANUT BUTTER WHISKEY!, PRESCRIPTIONS!, PAYPAL!, STREAMING!, AI GIRLFRIEND!, ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE!, DEPRESSING!, BABE!, MEDUSA!, SILENCE!, BORED!, JUGGALOS!, TROLL!, LOLCOW!, NO YOU HANG UP!, MEDS!, CRIPPLING ANXIETY!, RUTHLESS CANNON!, STEVE BRUHLE!, JOHN C. REILLY!, TIM AND ERIC!, OLD SCHOOL WEED!,  You can find the videos from this episode at our Discord RIGHT HERE!

HALLE BERRY is that how you spell it It is for now. Fuck going online “That ain't part of my day” Shut up Drake, not now. You'll thank me later “If You're Reading This, It's Too Late” [HALLE BERRY is taking A VERY PAINFUL SHIT, clutching her *favorite OSCAR award-- Which one's her favorite? CUT TO: BEFORE HALLE BERRY looks over her OSCARS in the display cabinet, carefully scanning them, with a New York Times paper tucked under her left arm, sipping from the coffee cup in her right hand.] —I like this guy. The other OSCARS groan; they are often overlooked during this process. Come on! This guy! AGAIN!? UGH. CUT BACK TO: [HALLE BERRY clenches painfully, sweating audaciously—at the worst possible moment, her cellphone rings. ] WHAT THE—COME ON I THOUGHT I WAS IN AIRPLANE MODE. (I just found out The Illuminati can still make calls go through in airplane mode Or without cell service at all) wtf my phone is ringing. That's weird. You don't even— —I don't even have a phone. Right. (Seriously, my phone is disconnected. I didn't even pay my bill.) The fuck. [it's JIMMY FALLON] Damn. This dude has the worst possible timing ever. Like fucking ever. Always shows up at the worst —THE WORST MOMENT. [HALLE BERRY rejects the call. It rings again] WHAT THE— [She ignores the second call. A moment of subtly relaxed silence, until— [JIMMY FALLON appears in the ceiling window of the bathroom. HALLE BERRY SCREAMS, still fluting her OSCAR.] (Calmly, kind of) Hey, WHAT THE FUCK, JIMMY. WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? I called first! I KNOW THAT— Went to voicemail. YOU SHOULDNT BE HERE. Just—calm down. NO. Look. GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! I'm not in your house, I'm outside your house. Technically. —yeah, but your FACE is in my house— —I hear that's the best part. —What?! Listen— Get out— No, look, listen— I need to borrow your Oscar. What?! For what?! That's not important. Oh really?! Yeah. It seems important. It's not that important Just—- What! Give it to me! [He snatches the OSCAR and tosses her his GRAMMY.] Just—trade me. What! What for?! Just—trust me— I do not— Just trust me—! WHAT! Congratulations. As you were. Kind of. WHAT—JIMMY— [She realizes the ridiculousness of her calling after him. She sits awkwardly with the Grammy in her lap, sighing] —he was my favorite… [SUDDENLY, though the other window Why does this bitch have so many windows in her bathroom that are this penetrate? For the sake of the joke, but probably not something any celebrity should have, are windows where anyone can enter your house from the outside. Fans are weird. CUT TO: AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I LOVE YOU. CUT TO: What's this place. It's my house, Where are the windows? They don't exist. CUT BACK TO [DANE COOK appears through the opposite window.] YO. WHAT THE FUCK! Chill, Halle Berry. WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! I'm the guy who wrote this. You should have called first! Who do I look like, Jimmy Fallon?! NO. I LIKE HIS face. Huh. Is that what it is… I GUESS I DONT KNOW. —who are YOU—?! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE— I am not in, technically— I DONT CARE! Ooh— Is that a Grammy award?! I didn't know you had a Grammy! Gimmie! [he snatches the Grammy] HEY! Is—what is this, for COMEDY?! FOR COMEDY?! WHY WASNT I MADE AWARE THAT THIS IS A THING?! I DONT KNOW, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? WHAT THE FUCK. It's not important. What. Anyway, thanks. Toodeloo. The Rock must have been buzzing in some sort of special way on this day; because for some reason, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I had finally rearranged the remainder of my seemingly new surroundings— the miniature keurig, a status symbol, of course, looked handsom on the work desk— the cat tree seemed to match, though with no actual feesible monetary income, and no end in sight— the tree itself would have to be enough to lift my spirits. It was a nice cat tree, almost untouched and looking very brand new— though the couch had a few scratches, though easily hidden with the decorative use of a couple throws—at least I had a couch, and all that was left to accomplish before fully enjoying was to arrange an order of Freebreeze to rid it of its previous owner's dandruff smell, and general mismanagement—besides that, it was itself almost brand new as well, and it seemed a strange new world to wake up in, after sleeping in a nearly empty apartment for 6 months; there was 6 months left in my lease, and I was getting nervous that they would try to push me out—hopefully I would find someplace better, or at the very least higher up—with the same amenetire intact. Still, I was working as diligently as in could on organizing—at least the recordings, to put together the next group of projects as quickly as I could— nevermind the writing—and there was so, so much of it, I hadn't a clue what to do. I had been avoiding Rockefeller Plaza like the plague for quite sometime—it always made me nervous in a sort of way I didn't understand, in that I would pulsate and vibrate differently, and more often times than not was upset and concerned that I had yet to go to the top—a costly feat—nor could I afford to entertain or enjoy any of the amusements at the bottom—not that i wanted to, as the older I got, and especially the longer time spent in New York, the more of putting the public and large crowds were—particularly after a remarkably disgusting respiratory infection I caught on new years, battling a crowd which became impossible to move through at all—let alone see the ball drop—and I had learned my lesson, especially after The Macy's Day parade; the crowds in New York were disgustingly unbearable, and in order to get a good view of anything, you would have to arrive nearly a full day early, and simply camp—now I knew why people packed around collapsible lawn chairs on holiday weekends. I had been blindsided by Fallon towards the end of the Macy's day parade—I hadn't any clue at all that he apparentlyboarticipated annually, as it had been years since I had watched the parade myself with my parents—and still, it was iconic—I always wanted to go. Still, and even though I had only written very little of him up to that point, I found it disasterous that as his name was announced and the float which carried him and The Roots, the best late night band on Television, not by opinion, but by fact—as I had most recently been studying and researching as thoroughly as I could all of the late night hosts since the dawning of Television in preparation to write this pilot, The TV People, short handed to TVP—and just then I recalled a dream from the night before, about Pat Kirkpatrick—for the first time in the dream world, it wasn't Fallon at all, but Pat Kirkpatrick. I couldn't remember the dream, nor could I seemingly work myself out of the rut that had been the plateau in writing the show—the show itself was heavy, with so many characters, all of which each had been given detailed and specific personalities, livelihoods, and backgrounds—in fact, I hadn't written anything in such a way since college, with detail—actually, I had never written anything so detailed at all, so character oriented that the character analyses filled entire pages of documents with excruciating vividness, as if these people were real. Well, now they were—and Fallon was neither Patrick as I was Esha, and the story has taken its own form, still however birthing an incredibly awkward and romanticized fascination and near obsession with Fallon—not that I would feed it to be so. I blocked out the news outlets, the media, the alrogithm's suggestions to watch bits and pieces of Fallon, though, however, I refused, and somehow, I didn't need it. Fearfully so, he was somewhere lodged deep inside me—and I was even sort of embarrassed to have written some of the things I had of his essence, however prophetic it seemed to be, that for about a three week period between April and May, I seemed to have gone off into a trance of sorts, writing for hours and experiencing vivid visions of this show, The TV Prople, alongside writing The Festival Project ™ And all of its markers—there were so many worlds, so many ways throughout them—and now as I had realized, I had actually been writing about Fallon nearly as long as I had been writing about Sonny, but differently. I had never of course come face to face with Fallon as I had the latter—and still—found it somewhat nessecary to hide my face beneath a mask as his float passed my viwingbspace, an elevated view from the staircase of some church, which had happened to be perfect—and although I was certain it's not as if he was looking for me—I had just then been writing of this Cosmic Avenger, and hadn't any idea at the time of Fallon in reality having been an actual magician, and still— with cameras everywhere, and knowing even what I had written—I didn't want to be caught by any passing cameras with any sort of blush or worse—a smile on my face as the float passed— a smile which would flash my atrocious gap-tooth and crooked smile I was sure was permanent, by then having been in the homeless shelter nearly a year. As soon as his name was announced, I promptly pulled up my masked. I had already been caught on camera earlier in the parade gawking at some float—now was not the time to be caught gawking again. He, like Rob Lowe seemed impeccably professional and well-rehearsed, like a cartoon character— he was, after all, kind of a cartoon character, however now, even if it was partly due to my own writing, I took him more seriously. There was a darkness about him— a sometimes glassy-eyed, almost scary darkness that told me, even a world away not to fuck with this dude—some kind of animal or monster I was sure we both shared, however mine more the type and category of insatable and undernourished and his more peaking its head out in the form of a multi-millionaire network puppet, which housed an untamable powerhouse of musicianship, manhood, and wit— it's true, I was finally scared of him, knowing after all what the true tears of a clown could be, a dangerous man in a uniformed suit, the Everyman for the programmed masses, and the funny man with a jig to dance, a story to tell, and an indoor life— secret realm within I was sure no one knew. I fed the monster with respect to the home, happy wife, and children— I, after all, loved love, and only wanted it for myself, leaving alone the parts of a man I had found and was sure was broken enough to have left me puzzled and star studded rather than struck as I always was, tears welling up at the thought of it that something should be mended neither I or anything I was could not fix—I continued to write, however, knowing I was walking on glass barefoot and tiptoeing on eggshells around the mass media conglomerate of the network that stood between my feeble world and his, the higher ups— and bryknnd: it was, after all, a level system— and now with a beautifully decorated and fully apartment, besides my mistress on the floor instead of the space saving loft bed I had wanted—though it looked just right with the piano bench as a headboard, housing my crystals and new globe, plus a colorful collection of books I could crack open as I awoke to the morning light, no longer so early but increasingly later, as I shifted into the insomniatic habits of a true DJ and music producer, still writing and reading in the mornings, however— I had to wonder what level I was truly on. My apartment looked like a home. The decor was better than I could have imagined myself even, the tasteful furnishings and modern elegance shifting my reality— no longer an empty apartment, now a fashionable hub for art and creation. I assumed the car would come along in the winter, with any hopes that I would finish my albums by then—and also looming over me— my last life, and the people in in struggling to call up to me in this very ascended realm, which I was lucky to inhabit. ‘Thank you God for your many blessings' My wishes it seemed, had been granted— magic did indeed seem real, and though I had an Amazon return packaged and ready to go— there wasn't a time and place I could see myself as ready to even be near The Rock, some festering bulletwound in my heart, all that I had written, not just of Fallon, but of the rest of the people I had honored by word mark but had not yet the status or wealth to have ever known as human at all, but more products of the program; with intention, however, it was the path I had followed to be destined here somehow though small codes and doorways, signals and symbols which called to me and seemed only I could see—but were there in plain sight, and with the right eyes, had meant more than I ever dreamed anything could— open doors to a world I had indeed created myself, and in turn, the world in which I lived had also been created around me. I had to, in my mind, find the light inside all of whom I studied, to humanize myself—nurturing some fascination of fame and celebrity inside which still stood unanswered, the question of why and how one becomes so high up that without trying, that I might continue to find them in my mind's eye and in my world, on the outside, time after time. —tales of a superstar DJ. https://linktr.ee/codenameblu {Now You See Me} From Google: Charismatic magician Atlas (Jesse Eisenberg) leads a team of talented illusionists called the Four Horsemen. Atlas and his comrades mesmerize audiences with a pair of amazing magic shows that drain the bank accounts of the corrupt and funnel the money to audience members. A federal agent (Mark Ruffalo) and an Interpol detective (Mélanie Laurent) intend to rein in the Horsemen before their next caper, and they turn to Thaddeus (Morgan Freeman), a famous debunker, for help. No, not the google documents! GET IN THE HOLE. Hm. What. Blood Shower All along the watch tower Do you feel good? Do you? Do you feel bad about this. I do. I feel bad about this. I forgot to tell you– I should probably let you know that I just want to MAN, FUCK THIS DUDE. MA. WAHT. IT'S ON. WHAt. THE SHOW IS ON. THEWHAT. THE– *suddenly self aware* …I gotta get out of Boston. What, first this was about war, now it's about bird people? It's about a war WITH the bird people. I should sleep. Hahaha. No. This isn't funny anymore. At least it's over. MA– Oh, it's far from over. Yo, i'm going through some crazy shit right now. Spur of the moment I'd never thought of it; This is gonna take forever. I don't have the patience To even write this I just want french fries right now But been up for two days with no gym and I'm on a diet. GUAC TIME. No, no burritos. GUAC TIME. Oh shit, this is getting real as fuck . NOw i see it three ways. I love it. I hate it. HEY, LET ME OUT. GET BACK IN YOUR HOLE, SKRILLEX. I'M DILLON FRANCIS. IN THE HOLE. Check it out. Huh. It's another DJ. *agrees* Should we pick him up. WEll, the good news is: I found your friend. Oh, that's good. The bad news is: He's dead. Oh, that–'s … nice. Yeah. It is. Uh. Kaskade. Yeah. We gotta find Ryan. Why. What's up? You're freaking me out. Why. What's up. Nothing IS it my eyes? I– *wild ass eyes* Yeah, it's probably that. Fuck dude, what did you do to deadmau5. NOTHIN. He's not the same. What the fuck is that. Holy shit I jus timejumped Where the fuck are you going. How the fuck could this happen?! It COULDN'T. Well, that's it then. *shrugs* Well, I guess we're just gonna have to go dig up Dillon Francis. I guess so. Do you think he's still alive. Like, probably not– Maybe… No, probably not @prodbywar& @Halmadeit This amazon order took me nine hours Alexa, I think i should fire her Like a arm I don't leave at night without armor Don't make me a martyr Your mom will be proud of us all If i make it outta here And i'll look after her Got the whole block coming up on my heels as I walk Wtf is it… Idk dude. Is it speeding up? I…i think so. There's no way this is 140 IT's 140. It's 140 . There's no way. Yes way. Nah huh. Let me see. No. Let me at the decks. Let me at the decks. NO. YO LET ME AT THE DECKS. You want deks. Yes. I got deks. Really. yeus . I never listened to it like this In ableton I read serato, synesthesia and rekordbox I talk a lot, I'm like a human music box I walk a lot I run my mouth a mile a minute (faster than i run around the track reciting rap words) Like they're passwords. Oh, I could do this forever.. I wish i had i microphone right now And was all alone With the lights off Lying on the floor I'd be lying if i said I could afford you Just to fornicate But may consider playing with a foreigner If you're all for her I'm unnerved, you know Cause i've been up so long My monster likes to play with boys and Make the bass go down below where Nobody does anymore Once I get a hold of things Or the hang of it You've got another hot ones on your hands I've another record under my belt Or in my roster, Whatever you'd call it But now I've got no time to bark about Wanting a dog and a daughter But none of the responsibility or Going through all the trouble to find her a father I'm still holding a fart in. Reaally–cause–it's been a really long time. WHAT WOULD YOU KNOW ABOUT A LONG TIME, JIMMY FALLON?? Um a lot! You literally just saw me make the journey all the way up from nothing. I am nothing EXACTLY. I don't have time to fight with you Jiimmy Fallon. I did NOT write these games by myself you know?! Um, excuse me– “GAMES” ?! YES, GAMES. Uh, I've only got one game with you in it, my friend. Is that so! One game that I've written with the Great–formerly LATE Jimmy Fallon. Is that like a play on words cause i'm on late night TV YOu'RE ON ALL THE TIME TV, JIMMY. NBC SHIT IS PRACTICALLY AUTOMATICALLY SYNDICATED. -_- …are you alright. –_-_-__-_ Hold on, I think i've got it Nice, I found a growler. yOu still haven't got all the monsters and sprites Ive got all the big ones, but the little ones are harder to catch. GrO0Wl3rrr. Aww. He's so ugly. Yeah, but cute, though, right. I don't think so. Gro)WwlErrrrrrrrr. Aww. That's so fucking gross. lol . so what does this thing look like. Well, that't the thing about the monsters and sprites. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT. It's alright, it's alright–he's nice. WHAT. THAT'S A SPRITE. No, it's a monster. He's just scary. SUPACREE. David Bowie. What up. God, it took me ages to find you. Tell me about it. I'm still trying. We've been expecting you for a long time. You were expecting I'd die? Yes. So when she says she's “married to the music…” I'm married to the music. Oh, so. Yo, honestly if you een want to talk to this bitch, you'd better have like a musical instrument, or a mic in your hands, Otherwise– No, getawayfrom me. It's not even worth it. HI. –No. What's up? Tempo. SUNNI Cotour From the store I was poor Now i'm honorable In velour, Glamour (Snap) Forsure, Jesus Christs is making appearances in my abletons I'm not able to comprehend or understand exactly the message, But the evidence sire is mounting Get it Reached the temple, More of a sanctuary, Is that sacrilegious I guess it is, I'm stressed as ever Trying to get it together {Enter The Multiverse} Now I know too well, The well of tears on my guitar She's got a body like one Oh her curves But I just wonder what it like to be loved By stars Socialites and superstars They're Gods, you know How high up they are Above us And he lives in an ascended dimension, But he insists, he says Her transcendence is upon us He said Your transcendence is upon us He says these things, And then just vanishes So she gets up promptly Warms up yesterday's coffee Looks around in her coffin And wonders What for I just Wonder what it's like to be loved by stars Without double r's, you know I've got scars But it's mostly just Teardrops, and soft kisses On my guitar Cause, oh, Oli, I ain't got nobody— And nobody holds me Like I hold Oli (Could have been Ali, But of course— I had already lost that one A whole well of tears, I lost At his departure And a whole well more When I actually lost him I almost miss Having someone to talk to About anything and everything But I've got Oli And God now I've got Oli And Oli (oli) Is all that I've got Besides God That's the only contact In my Phone book No more double Ls And double entendres; No more double rs At all Just scars now No more metaphors. Honest is radical I like them cynical I should have clinical insanity by now But I'm only just an artist You can't help But can only harm that And if it hurts hard enough I'll put art on my walls Become permanent Storybooks all over my arms now My coat of arms now I've run Ten point 5 miles In the last 3 days; But if I rest today Will a motorcycle gang Have a parade outside of my window, To drive me crazy? I hope it rains, So they can't play these games with my head And the seeds that I planted So deep become daisies I still don't remember The way he rearranged me But these days I make my name sound So the way He can never say it Just imitates The way I hate myself I should be dating But expressions are Atrocious If I fall asleep— Who knows I may get Stolen That tends to happen So I'm All the way up And I'm swollen in ways That I hate to say “I love you” Love me back Or say it harder That's my martyrdom Come off the cross, for a moment, Would you for us? And bend over Or bow, if you will? If I did, Would you still call me wicked Or just a Good witch Since I'm a woman, I just couldn't be Jesus, Who you asked for once And always Who you asked for some To save you from your Credit reports And consorts Or some sort of Nonsense [famous last words] God don't speak much English, She says God don't speak much these days We were Always Telepathic That was way back then When Oedipus Rex Was on the Guest list I was standing at the coat check, asking Why I must take off my hat When entering the service To the bouncer, he says “That's just politics” I said, That's just politics We both said, What's the difference Then we all laughed —then we all just laughed and laughed Exchange is my favorite exchange Where my favorite exchanges Have happened for centuries Of engagements Endeared species, And races pieces haven't tasted the same Since I haven't had them Animal products And animal planet I found this hat on Discovery channel Did you want it? I can't stand it So I had to have it back I just had to use the bathroom I just had to disconnect From [] See— I don't even have to put the words in Cause a name is just words When that's a man You just can't have And that's the worse When that's a man And you can't have him What a habit. Silky rabbit. Now he's the Ace. All In A Day's Work I've never died before. Oh… that is terrifying. It sounds terrible. It's really not that bad. Why are you not writing this down? I just need a moment… It's really not that bad… I die all the time. I get sensory overload At Trader Joe's Look at the colors The clothes, This sure isn't queensborough Escalators for shopping carts I get it Manhattan I'll take my half BLVCK ass to the projects Where my kind are I don't belong here , God you're intolerant I like this part of town But I'm way too brown And I dropped my crown at the market I should be jealous of everyone But I have learned my place I've been a slave since Hollywood I lost my son to the devil Now I pay child support And terrorist follow me coughing I'm wrong just for being born ! You could start a war from it If that's what you wanted I'm a people watcher people watcher About to board the people mover People mover Slip, Here's the tell Slip, here's the tell I should have a bell around my neck I think she wanted a picture with papa I'm playin my own paparazzi Look mom, I bought a sacafagus There go them niggas with coughs again I been watching em Got binoculars I got oculus, for my oculars Look how hot he is, make me ovulate Man I gotta love it, Cause they love to hate Fucking racist crazies Have it your way I paid for it with my soul You hate but I love to love Somebody just got me fuckes up I don't have a book to run off of Shut up, honey. Now we're all up here Monkey in the middle Cause the middle one is weaker It's getting deeper and deeper Like the sinkhole that my sink is Let it sink in I've been syncing my secrets with demons In dreams sequences It's just a reparative injustice Kamasutra for your wondering words and stuff You can have it It's ruined anyway m Look at all this trash Look at all these classless classes Classwars, Racists. Everybody hates us The Asians, Latinx's The other niggas What being black is I'll write it in cursive It's just a curse, here So you can have it I'm moving to Heaven I'm packing my boxes I'm getting a cat, too! His name is Agustus He's a big one And I love him I just wanted a hug or a husband Instead I got nothing to trying my hardest And got for a bargain at target some coffee For being a targeted body All on an algorithm I guess I'm just useless. A dumb nigger demon Did I just offend you? Then you shouldn't be reading this either I wrote it for pleasure (Or pain) On the one Or the two Or the one Or the two I could do a lot with this $20. I could spend it all on Fuck all of you I'm moving to Heaven Where the heart it She's not harmless She's a terrorist— And I'll kill her, too Look how right she is Look how white she is, Huh Regardless of color It's a race war Lil biiiiitzzz Yooo, fuck New York. In every hole. In every crevice. Fuck this place. It's racist— Not just cause I'm black. Like statistically. It took a whole ass apartment elsesrch to feature this out. I was like “I wanna live in Manhattan” Everyone was like “NOOOOOOOO—-“ Haha “Nooo, no.” I was like “Why not?” The blacks were like: HAHA The whites were like— *COUGHS OBNOXIOUSLY* New York is so racist. It is statistically the most diverse—and most segregated city in the nation At the same time. WHAT. How do you even DO that? But it's true, at this point, the black people are like—fuck this, we'll just stay over here, and over here. And the rich whites are like YES. KEEP THAT SHIT, OVER THERE. Cause if you've ever been to the ghetto. It's some SHIT, It is NOT COOL. I finally got my ‘night card' back. Had it revoked in california . I was almost a whole valley girl. I still eat exclusively at Whole Foods. Trader Joe's. But NO. Now i live in the hood. It's fucking disgusting. I can say ‘nigga' again. Cause it's NIGGAS. Lots of niggas. I'm telling you. It's night and day! The white folks trains smell like bleach— Ammonia. The black folks train smell like a McDonald's. WHAT. Or just— Vomit. I can actually count the number of times just— Vomit—- On the train. Or. Dookie. Yes. Human feces. But I'm ready to go to midtown and it's like the train that goes around Disneyland. Families! People singing! Hey—cotton candy!! —and I didn't have to pick it! Haha! Fuck New York. Racist ass HOLE. I thought surely the next presidential election was one or two years out, but the racial tensions which had been rising became even more pronounced, as I realized that November was theboncoming time—and that they hostility between the whites and the blacks had once again been a result as the oncoming war, fueled onward—that the hatred, disgust, and general aggression of the whites had been of course, in the midsts of yet another Trump-fueled political upheaval, and I wondered why and how at all I had been caught in such a world that existed in form of man, of course, now proven himself to be the weaker sex, and yet in that of dominance, as was arranged in such an unholy war, to be the helm of power by sheer greed— now it seemed that these attacks were indeed political terrorism, and that these motorcyclists, my placement close to the ground level, and my neighbor's clammorings were specific attacks, after my identity had been varied to be that of the same in which I had once held political ambition, now none of which I assumed mattered at all. Perhaps I needed something more certain than a 12 story jump or suicide by train, and wondered as to whether it would be easy enough to kill myself bh self inflicted gunshot—a sure thing for certain, as love has been lost in the way of money at all. At that party…or rather, kind of—after. That acid that never hit Beyoncé I don't feel it. Man, I'm a terrible influence(r) Just take it. Nah, I'm good— PUSSY. -_- Give me three. K. —suddenly hits BEYONCÉ. BEYONCÉ …I got this. [BEYONCE] however, does not Ohh, shit. — “got this.” A very stranded, very sober Johnny depp stumbles upon what appears to be a college frat party, where the only thing they have is light beer, and nobody even recognizes him as a celebrity, because the attendees are all gen z What's even after gen z? The fucking apocalypse. Anyway. The acid hits Beyoncé on her way to make coffee, which extends the trip from the living room to the kitchen infinitely. Multidimensional Anne Hathaway hulks the fuck out and saves the day by ruining everything, which actually fixes everything— and *spoiler* helps Jesus to remain as the king of kings at beer pong. Lol In the late 90s in New York City, the keystone cast of Saturday night live learns of each other's formerly sexret psychic abilities, and uses the radio technologies of Rockefeller plaza to develop a research center for the telepathically gifted, eventually discovering and perfecting time travel. Supacree (the kid version) appears in and out of her ideal and desired realities, baffling ‘the Hollywood people' and later ‘the New York people', becoming the legendary central figure of the Illuminati, as the original timepiece — a pyramid shaped extra terrestrial vehicle which contains an ascended hyper conciousness, which I can't remember how it goes, did the supacree leave to find the Skrillex, or was it the other way around? I think it was both ways at some point, but the whole thing was this, just in case I never wrote it but just saw— These space god (humanoid evolved) are some kind of scientists/ doctors— there are four timepieces, each representing an era upon our planet; earth, which is distant but sacred— these four time pieces each depart their given “docs” in time to appear on earth at specific Fuck this is hard to explain Times in history, at which the first worlds, or previous human eras were known to have been destroyed— these time pieces travel through time space with the full record of these events in order to alert the current human era of its imminent doom, as an attempt to prevent such disasterous events, typically war, which will lead to the annihilation of the human species; these Gods, one male and one female, a king and queen, a married couple are the rules of the humankind, technically worshiped as a whole as one God, with whom the human design was modeled after, however, the true source of all things is the cosmos, known and unknown, in its totality—neither man or woman, but the force of creation. Anyway, what else is happening Oh. All of the celebrities are stuck in— [the festival project] in some way, shape, or form until its creator finishes it—and though it in itself is infinite, its 'finishing' notates its eventual production, which lol. That never going to happen. Because. Let's face it. I'm scared of …rich people. Yeah, sure. Yeah. I'm scared of The effect of the race war, which has been to pit the white woman against the black woman, which allows and maintains the continuation of war mongering male dominance over the entire planet, which remains as a destructive force of greed, racism, and inequality. So why try? [EDITS] CONAN O'BRIEN Alright. If she hit Fallon, she's gonna come for one of us next. No, Conan—that's not how this works. WHAT—where did you come from!? When did you get here? JAY LENO This goes deeper than all of you can understand. WHAT the FUCK, man! When did you-/ —when did he get here? How did you do that?! How did you do that?! What are you, like, the same guy? Are you not all the same guy? [they shrug simultaneously and kind of just agree] Listen at this. Okay then. The enemy of your friend is my enemy. Oh…kay—and the enemy of my enemy—is my friend— That is correct. —so we're all friends here. That's right. Some special forces? Which forces? How special? [JENNIFER LOPEZ is still JENNY FROM THE BLOCK] Do I look like a fool to you? Uh— OOPS [a pre-fame Jennifer Lopez receives a drop full of diamonds instead of the usual; she has been granted access into the Illuminati, and becomes an overnight success.] This feels heavier than usual. Same as always. Hm. Are you sure. Yep. Hey, you're not the regular guy. Regular guy died. That makes sense. JENNIFER ANNISTON is inside of Ū Okay, grosss Not like that [lifting max weight] Okay. That was cool. Wow. Yeah, sure whatever. I am strong Yeah yeah, okay. Are you sure you want to be my size? Yep. JIMMY FALLON/SKRILLEX (we don't know actually which at this point) is also trapped inside of Ū Okay, gross! Yeah. SKRILLEX is in all of Ū. okay—actually, i'm okay with that, but That other guy?! [JIMMY FALLON] Yeah, he's weird. Also meanwhile, kind of— MARSHALL MATHERS has a closet cleaning service lol. Patrick is smooth as a motherfucker, you know. Every time his head is down on the desk like that, he takes a bump of coke. What?! Big uh! [Patrick takes bumps of cocaine in front of a live studio audience—every single night.] Woah! See. Goddamn. You gotta admire a guy like that. Jennifer Anniston is the weight on the cable tension machine Ooh. Psycho bitch devious methods new ludachris commercial All ya'll girls is toddlers I like long boards and longhairs Lawn mowers and lawn shares Aw hell nah, God forgot Cher I got the Blair witch project On Blair, I hope I scare you How dare you. Your girl looks like a naked mole rat. I got my soul back. You blue eyed bastards stole everything From the whole blacks, Hold that thought I'm at Whole Foods market throw in the Amazon algorithm off With marked dollars Look at God at Walmart On them rollbacks You old hacks are cackling I'm shackled to old habits Hold hands with me, rabbit I'm just a silly rapper really, are you? Maybe. Cut the verse of Reverse God Now I'm the devil I'm still lost in the Amazon cart I sharted all up in your pop tarts Before you warmed them up, pops Just for the sake of the art, Heart to heart, It's a war on love And the white girls won with nothin but Buckets of Whatever's up there I wouldn't know Cause I'm stuck job searching And running, Trying not to have a tummy So some gummy worm will love me First their sour, then they're sweet Then nobody, Trolli Holy moly I could use some more petroleum in the ocean! Said nobody But the globalists are performing your programming Which you're worshiping I put my eye on the dollar So I could watch you all Crumble and fall Don't you know The apocalypse is happening at the mall Of all the places How's that for a stream of consciousness, You salamander I asked Anandar back But I went past that chapter Have a chap Or a chapstick, for four times four dollars A bottle of water will cost you a fortune (But at least the drugs are in it) Get it It's recycled piss Distilled? Which is it, Mr,? The mystery box was literally lifted into My dinner from a fishery filled with nothing but niggers in it— I want a refund, before I catch that Fucking curse of poverty from — what'd you call it salmonellahallibut One hell of a cough from someone on the sidewalk But guess what? The devil's in your pocket or your palm, And that's the omen and the psalm rolled into one Cause God is awesome, But my mom is fuckin toxic And that's how I fuckin got here Blow my head off, Slit my wrists And write a song While jumping off a bit When all you need is money, But the world costs more than It's worth, and words are nothing But another fucking problem in your Google documents I look at my son and see a God, But half of Satan's in him, Oh man Robotics Lets be honest, I don't even know how to write this. Where's my sides?! WHERE'S MY SIDES. You don't get SIDES with this; It's just CHICKEN. I don't eat CHICKEN. It appears as though, however– You do. Ok, I gotta get off this playlist. I… i gotta . “The Wal*Mart Wars” Hm. … …………. …. *face* … no. No. l– What is this place. {After a wild night which apparently spiraled out of control, great , there goes my peace. Not forever, though, maybe. FUCK THIS PLACE. I HATE THIS PLACE. Everybody hates this place. But the album is called “I love New York” Yes, thats Technically How it's pronounced, though It's stylized like I _ NY Cause. EXT. MIDTOWN MANHATTAN. DAY Oh, wow, this is beautiful. THis is great. I love this place FUCK THE FEDS. CUT TO: EXT.Typically WHEREVER ELSE Anywhere ‘above' like 87th? Lets just call it 80th, be safe. BE SAFE! NIGGAZ. ah shit, i gotta go. BITCH– But lets just be honest, It's technically ‘above' But it's really [THE BRONX is a literal extension of the Underworld] Oh no. srsly tho. X_c Anyway. FUck man, Do you think i'll ever get good like that. Idk what equipment is this Hmm, lets see, that's approximately $8,000 USD of CDJs wow yep That's retarded Yep. And you still need a mixer. fukt. OKay, I would literally sell my soul for this. Consider it done. wait , really? YES. you earned it. Wait, I– What?! You earned it… Uh oh. Take care now. Shit. [BILLIE ELLISH is trapped inside WALMART] Uh oh. Fuck. what is this place. INT. WALMART. WHENEVER EMPLOYEESLAVES WHAT TIME IS IT. THERE'S NO WINDOWS IN HERE. That's not funny IT'S literally a synonym, we might as well make it a portemantau MEanwhile, in this other dimension, So that i don't offend anybody… Actually, you know what? Be offended. Quit that stupid fuckin shit and follow your dreams! Wait really? Wait, really? Sure! If you want! …i guess. AMERICA NO. INSTANT HOMELESSNESS ok , nvm. Damn. I know, right. wtf r u guys watching. Shut up. All Wal*Mart Employees are actually top secret government agents. x ∞ >.< (we'll just use Billie Ellish as the alternate, but really it could be Could it really? Shut UP, PLURNICORN. Wtf is a PLURNICORN We'll see. [Upon Realizing s/he is trapped in a mysterious place apparently extremely public Wait, you've never been to a Wal*Mart Before?! NO. I grew up in LA Rich as fuck And i've been famous since I was liike 12, Or something. Right. That is–kind of terrifying. LATER: WHY IS IT SNOWING INSIDE. WHERE'S THE EXIT. THEY HAVE GUNS?! oh wow, they have GUNS. WHY DO WE NEED GUNS! KA-BLAM. BECAUSE THEY HAVE GUNS. Bang-bang! Ptttttttttt—sttt. And they have guns. Actually, these are just– confetti cannons. *pop!* Lol “Possibly The Worst Show Ever the infinite rave continues on in Hell as everyone awaits the return of SŪPACREE- The Cosmic Avenger (Who Is NOT a DJ) and Sunnï Blū (who is a superstar rapper but also not a DJ) go back to back, buying time as the beacon to. Signal "The Supacree" is completed, battling the 10th dimensional DJ Ū, a super ninjas, for control of the decks. what else happened? idk. I CANT STOP DANCING. none of the DJs can find a pair of working headphones, and the sound guy is missing from the booth. "missing" YOU SHOT HIM. I THOUGHT IT WAS A TRANQ DART. {Enter The Multiverse} “TVP” Hazel is 6, turns 7 season 1 Season 7- 15 Man, I can't remember the other two kids names, I think the little boy is Ira but I might have named them all and forgotten, shit. Her sister, though is between 4 ½ and 5, they are technically “Irish twins”, and always fighting—they look very similar, however are not at all alike; Hazel is very much a daddy's girl, while her younger sister is a no-nonsense old soul with the tendency to cause trouble, not by being inquisitive or showy, as her sister often is, but rather by being quietly observant, and tends to dismiss both her parents, often isolating, or even dissappearing without notice, quietly and comfortably into her own world—as the series progresses, and though all of Patrick's children like their parents have showcased some kind of special ability or talent— Holy shit, give this kid a name-/ I thought I already named her, I just don't remember. That's true. It seems like they all had names. She is almost very typically, though showing signs of genius, even at the early age at the beginning of the series, a middle child, prone to upset almost too easily, but rather than acting out, is more likely to take her anger quietly; she shares her fathers deep brown eyes, dark hair, and though she looks otherwise very much like her sister, and later despises her father, is more inwardly and outwardly like him, though taking the side of her mother during their separation and divorce, oftentimes even lashing out at her father quite openly, and very vocally, as she grows into herself. “Ira”, (may have had another name earlier) is the youngest of three— as his third birthday approaches sometime during the first season. Great, now I gotta hide all those allegories so nobody can actually draw from this that Patrick— Where's his write up, anyway? That shit could go on for days. I have no idea why this catharsis is happening. I tried to sleep it off, I swear, but I still woke up like— At least mildly obsessive about this, for whatever reason. Hazel's 7 - Season Arc Hazel has the eyes, charm, and charisma for entertainment —she hopes to one day be as her father, an entertainer and performer, and will do almost anything for a laugh. She is often telling jokes, and is a people- pleaser. She is sickeningly cute, with golden hair and Hazel eyes, long eye lashes, and carries baby fat in her face, though she is rather average, neither heavy or plump, and however also not frail at all. She is inquisitive, smart, and busy, almost never idle-minded, and strong. Though sort of a Tom boy, she has been trained well to act with dignity, class, and feminine eloquence, much like her mother—but like her father, has a tendency to be crass, sometimes carelessly so, or even brutally honest—to her mother's disdain, but embraced wholesomely by other family members and adults, she's extremely funny and delightful, and very much unlike her mother, not a spoiled brat at all, often raising questions beyond her years about inequality, later wishing to attend a public school, and becoming quite the advocate for social justice and human rights in her later years, her final season shows a rebellious and sometimes even antagonistic Hazel, who later even favors Esha over her own mother as a parental figure, often confiding in her about things she can't and shouldn't share with her father, although her almost over the top admiration for her father has become the driving force and inspiration for her own endeavors in show business, much to her father's disdain, as she grows older, him becoming more protective of her, and especially within the oftentimes secretive nature of his actual placement and purpose in the business, and her rebellious nature and charm even force-feeding her into the industry, she is a bleeding heart for superstardom, and is often seen along what may be a path to fame, making Patrick's bleeding heart all the more aching, as though he and Catherine remain at odds throughout the series, he truly loves his children, even “the little sick one”, as he refers to the second child. Holy shit, what is this kid's name If I had the energy to go through my notes, I could know; but I don't. The city sickness has been sinking in from the noise of the obnoxious motorists and honestly, being out of protein is giving me muscle soreness, I'm in some sort of a bloated haze from eating almost nothing but carbs, and the fact that I haven't been with anyone in years is starting to circle like buzzards around my head, my heart has been literally screaming but overwhelming with this sense of calm, and though slipping into Patrick's sometimes erratic tendencies, for the most part I've been underwhelmed with society's expectations that I should get some kind of job, and somehow while working not lose focus on my own interests and projects—I hate [the strange modern behaviors of] most people, and everything costs too much money— my son might be going into foster care, or my ex husband is evil enough just to try to force my energy to worry about a problem he's created, and I really wanted to sleep into the afternoon with this lethargy, hoping that everything surrounding this series would just fall off, but it doesn't. I wake up often wishing I could just forget The Festival Project ™ , but the truth is, it just keeps writing itself, but in the very least, sometimes God gives me little presents that mean the very most to me— a chord organ that I thought was from the 80's, but is more likely from the 1960's— I love vintage stuff, and musical instruments, which only God could know, really—my fascination with history as if I'm still living it, and this, my sudden fascination and drive to write and complete just one series has been haunting me almost just as badly as anything else has, but especially ripping me apart—especially since I have motorcyclists ripping through my body as if it were some kind of disease that existed outside of me, so contagious that it began to sink in to my insanity and mental hygiene. I wondered if anybody else knew or cared about these creatures as much as I didn't—and in fact, I had never felt so much like Ali in the way that I didn't care if they, other “human beings” supposedly, all died tragically, and wondered why the walls and windows didn't keep out the sound of the outside world at all… The middle child begins writing secretly very early on, and is the first to be required more extensive therapy, (as suggested by the family's therapist) after her parent's separation and subsequent divorce. It is not long after she begins learning to read and write at all, that she begins also showing interests in art, asking for art lessons and to begin painting and art therapy, rather than the recommended Equine therapy— she often keeps things to herself, then returning to her hidden places at times when the family's dysfunction becomes uncomfortable and overstimulating, very often paining or reading during times of peace, and retreating to her safe places—sometimes under the stairs, into the attic, the treehouse, or even later, the family's barnyard, where she often keeps drawings, as she ages, later comics, sometimes caricatures of the things she absorbs through her own reality—and diaries, sometimes hidden in nooks and crannies and in places no one would think; a true prodigy and genius, though hidden from much the world, as she is often overlooked, however, her therapist begins unfolding her true reality, often times carrying over sessions and losing track of time, picking her brain or even conversations philosophically What's the therapists name? Doctor Robin She has to have a last name Well, she's a child's therapist, so she's Doctor Robin, but It seems like it starts with a T. We'll see. I just saw her anyway. I drifted off again, thinking about how wildly detailed this all was becoming, and wondered if there was a series of fictional books waiting to be written. There certainly could be, but my mind was reeling, freshly showered but still undressed, and not even wanting to think of going outside—and yet—I was out of water, and had learned that the drinking water from the fountains, especially in large quantities, had a tendency to make me sick—I hadn't yet eaten anything, and though the coffee was fresh, and my apartment was clean (which made me overtly overjoyed for some reason) smelling of Lemon Lysol and Bleach; with notes of a strong pot of organic fresh ground coffee, it seemed like I couldn't do much more than lay in bed writing this catastrophically interesting series—and it was interesting, which said volumes, considering I had always been picky about my TV watching, being that only ever did certain series catch my eyes or my ears, and those series were almost always—or always, always specifically well written, perfectly casted, and had the edge and draw of becoming an entire world within itself, which this series, though only a week or two old at best, in my heart and in my mind , was rampantly ravaging my own world, almost as if it had become of some importance to keep writing it, and never stop, and though Patrick was the forefigure, another broken male protagonist, the truth in the series was that the true heroes of this sometimes scarily violent drama, were its women—a story meant to be told with a diversified cast of creatures from all worlds and walks of life—Esha, of course, herself, a role that had been some recreation of myself, somehow, though so different that even primarily, I never did see myself as her, besides the onslaught of some otherworldly pain, visions of a scene recollected from some remarkable download, and it might have been once and for all that I had lost my mind, or my life, if I wasn't a writer—I was, somehow, though, after all, a writer. It had been a fasting day that could have and might have ended tragically anyway, and still the devil marked his mockery of my efforts by consistently flinging perfect bodied women everywhere that I went—though usually with ugly enough faces that I could see nothing but what a man was—uncaring for one thing over the other, a flawless representation of woman, represented in the current time with scantily clad fashion, almost painfully so—the insecurity of women becoming more apparent in the way she would appear, always almost begging to be near to me, with every perfection and complexion I hadn't—but at least I had a tendency to laugh at my own damage, often surmising that she, these demon creatures, hadn't any talent for this at all—which had turned the state of television into a near circus act; that alone urged me to continue writing the series, perhaps with a typewriter, due to the negligence of nepotism within the industry which often resulted in these pretty little creatures getting even further ahead by stealing works as such, and passing them on as their own originality almost so cruelly and without judgement—plagiarism, as it was called, but more accurately intent-to-kill the imminent threat of what had been said to be a minority becoming a more powerful force to flourish in entertainment however, as quickly as the visions had come, the thought of writing it without my phone became dauntingly impractical, and I scribbled only the most intense scenes and plot lines onto notebooks and scratch papers, keeping them as hidden from the algorithm as possible… lol the Al Gore Rhythm Ahahahahahahaha Was that the joke? Maybe. Idk. Maybe. Idk. Hm. Hmmmmm: What: Nothing. That actually might have been it. Really, was it? I will never know. That is kind of a good dad joke, though. And a good band name. Idk about that. My coffee was lukewarm enough so that I could taste its flavor, as I whittled away at whatever it was— The story was almost so beautifully being told in allegories and parables that it seemed a shame I may never be rich enough to buy fame, as it seemed that was the only way to become a star these days— and yet—it was more the wealth than the fame I wanted, I had realized, at all—the polished class of the Manhattanites drawing me out of Brooklyn and into some debauchery which was my own Grandiose thought form, that I could actually become, at the ripe old age of 31, some kind of superstar. ‘Why would I even want that, anyway?' I thought, interrupted painfully by who I'm sure was the same motorist, who seemed to do nothing but circle the block all day, and all night, doing nothing — and I wondered why he himself had decided not to do grub hub in a richer neighborhood, where money would more than likely come more easily. But really— I drifted off to a time where I wanted to ride a motorcycle myself, and the curiosity forced me to go online to check the price of what it might cost to have one. $5,000 for a decent bike, which would include a muffler as not to be so obnoxious and disturbing to others as these creatures had become to me— and I began doing the math on how long it would take to save $5,000 as if it would be possible to work some dead end job for any amount of time without spending money on anything else. It would take at least 5 months to earn enough for a motorcycle, which landed me directly back at “Not worth it”, and as horrible as it was, I did at the very least have a luxury apartment for at minimum the next 5 years, however, wanting still to move to Manhattan, Midtown specifically—or one of the quaint and quiet neighborhoods on the upper West Side. The neighborhood was going to hell, after some unworldly godless force had seemed to drop hundreds of thousands of rude and thoughtless third world workers onto the streets and buildings bordering the one I lived on, the neighborhood becoming more rough and less peaceful with trash and debris from the depression and congenital disease that was poverty, the collective unconsciousness of the masses colliding with my empathetic nature and oversensitivity to sound, especially awful sounds, such as the hundreds of motorcycles and hot rodded junk cars which only seeemed to move in a track around a four block radius, and had become a cancerous trigger of sorts, no authority figure seemed to much care about. I cared less and less each day to listen to music, since I wasn't making it the way I wanted to—and I had realized that the constant displeasure and unrest, the lack of peace had as much to do with the world outside as it did with the world within—and I began to see the disgusting obnoxious noise pollution outside my window as just an extension of man's abuse, ability to rape, torture, and kill, terrorize— the uncaring waging of war, control, and lack of true power; as no good and true man who wielded actual strengeth or true power in any way would continue to show such distructive action and carelessness for others around him— chaos, corruption, abuse, and misogyny was proving to be the downfall of all humankind, as patronaged by man, and, as I became doubtful of anyone's lack of understanding of this, especially as the immigrants themselves were often naturally pedophillic culturally and toxically abusive in nature, most migrants flocking from countries in which women's liberation or the protection of youth had not yet materialized into their understanding of conciousness and morality—the men were weak, unkind, and selfish—the women mere machines at their disposal—and however many there were, I could see that their children, the many of them, remained as the redeeming factor. Anyway, a political ploy for the ages of there ever was such a thing, the newest chapter in American greed and slavery, it only seemed like an extension of evil itself, and less of a coincidence with each growing day—each new person, another burden to the middle class taxpayer, another reason to inflate the cost of living—and all the more reason to continue to terrorize the American people into its own division, hatred, demise, and consumption. e. My faith, however, was unwavering—God was real, but these abusive and toxic creatures were pushing it further away with violent arrogance, and the inability to understand that God itself was the nature they continued to destroy. Robin Bennett Fine. “My name's —ahem— “Ron Sennet, and I ain't In it.” —did the say “don't” write a book about me? It's Not about him… Or something cute he used to say like that, I couldn't remember, but he had a bunch of cute little idioms that matched his name, and to the day, I still missed him — it was 11:15 PM exactly as I hung up the phone, after an unsuccessful attempt to reach 911, after realizing that the threat outside was maddening enough to be impossible to only be in my head, and after weeks of the excruciating noise, I finally called NYPD dispatch, much to my disdain, and of course magically, the noise seemed to disappear, but these abusive and toxic creatures were pushing it further away with violent arrogance, and the inability to understand that God itself was the nature they continued to destroy. Robin Bennett Fine. “My name's Jon Sennet, and I ain't In it.” Or something cute he used to say like that, I couldn't remember, but he had a bunch of cute little idioms that matched his name, and to the day, I still missed him — it was 11:15 PM exactly as I hung up the phone, after an unsuccessful attempt to reach 911, after realizing that the threat outside was maddening enough to be impossible to only be in my head, and after weeks of the excruciating noise, I finally called NYPD dispatch, much to my disdain, and of course magically, the noise seemed to disappear as soon as I had made the call, which infuriated me. It seemed as though the game in entirety to make me look or feel crazy, though I knew I wasn't—well, I was, but not without purpose or reason. I had been theorizing in energy exchange quite decisively making a mark for my alter, at which I asked to be designated the wisdom and truth of the light within the eye, desire, however never in mind, although I had been summoned in part due to the fact that wenwere somehow alike—I was in some ways besides and out of sorts with my set, sinking my teeth into the forced obsession as I unraveled any possibilities and plotline. Episode 01. Pilot An opportunity presents itself seemingly at random— the protagonist's hand is forced into a life changing ultimatum, putting his reuputation and family in danger. Already involved in an illegal gambling ring which operates out of a secret historical prohibition era speakeasy and some “light” drug mulling within its walls, however often extending even as dangerously close to his workplace, Patrick is propositioned to become an investor in the high end escort service, with which he hired and contracted his lover, Kandi, a “rescue” whom he supports in her exchange for exclusivity, to remain as her only client, however, although he begrudgingly declines, wishing not to be involved in anything much more than what he has already kept under the radar, he is intimidated and threatened by blackmail, his high profile becoming at stake—he then obliges to embark upon this new endeavor, the expansion of this establishment to include a warehouse, which houses a large scale brothel, and, able to use his social status to procure wealthy clientele, quickly becomes a power player within a ring of coveted elites, setting fire to his already inflated ego, and colliding with his intense and highly functional polyaddiction, which he has maintained since his youth, using his entertainment persona as an outlet, becoming a medium of excess, fame, and rampant wealth. Patrick is beloved by his peers, and is humbled often by his devoted fans and friends—proactively worshipped as a comic genius, a prodigy, and a revered successor to legendary frontmen— Okay, this is weird, because I started writing this before I even understood what I was writing at all… —specifically, the sixth successor, to his coveted role. I had written for Esha to be the seventh successor, as with the symbolism deeply and quite literally woven into the sometimes brutal framework of the series, which I had shorthanded to ‘TVP'…the world around me trailed off as my eyes blurred as they had been lately, and I wondered if I might be having some kind of stroke or something, as I was certainly some sort of out of body—the day had been strange, and I had given up on a run or a gym for the day, the motorcycles alone ravaging my energy, and whether I worked out or not, they were everpresent anyway. They were some sort of toxic, abusive force I just had to put up with, hoping it didn't upset my psychology so much that it ended me, though I had become quite odd as of recently, rambling more than usual and actually praying out loud, as my silent ones just didn't seem to be working—they were probably white supremacists, or in some way connected to some political terror group, but it didn't seem to matter. Someone liked torturing me, and it was becoming apparent that no matter much time I spent at the gym, this torture was going to persist. After a month long gym streak, at least going once a day to lift something, I rested, or rather, tried to rest, kind of— but my mind had been swirling with thoughts of a man I was certain by now I had made up—and writing the story of a man I was absolutely certain came from my mind, but in a way that it almost made no sense at all—as the more I looked into the world that I had already written about, the more I realized was accurate without first having known these things, and however cursed I might have been to even know such things, I decided to call it some sort of blessing instead. ‘God, I used to get so fucking high for days, and when I would come down, just crying and crying, eating Totinos or DiJorno and a bag of Bugles, I would watch Saturday Night Live for fucking hours, and I hated [Redacted]. I hated him.' Now I still hated [Redacted], but in a different way, and though really it was myself that was more like Patrick, he at the very least, for whatever reason, used to have his face—now, he was just Patrick, and [Redacted] was just [Redacted], and i knew entirely too much about it all, and about myself to be comfortable with it, but nothing was comfortable at all. I had written entire atrocities, novels, and all that was some conglomerate of nonsense which was the festival project, besides how insanely and innately prodigal it all was sometimes, my own words confusing me with a bizzare and asenine dysfunction, awe, actually, often as if someone else had written them, and although I was always at least sort of semi-concious while writing, the spells and cadences I would fall under were some sort of trance, and as I watched the Nirvana rehearsal from Saturday Night Live in 1992, long before [Redacted] or any of the rest of the — Was it Keystone? It was, the Keystone cast of SNL, but the first word my mind had jumped to was Hallmark, which—after referencing Google quickly for a fact check, also stood true. I was willing to admit, even now, though I had long lost interest in Saturday Nighy Live, or anything at all having to do with current events, that the [Redacted] era—or rather even, the Tina Fey era, a true role model, perhaps, and someone I favored over all of the performers I admired, or allowed myself to admire— the Golden Years of Saturday Night were the only years, for me that even mattered— trying to make sense of anything couldn't be done, but I at least had this new project birthed from it to think about. It would be hard to sit down at a taping of The View and not think about all I had written at all, and it would be impossible not to unfold the characters which had presented themselves, though slowly but surely, through the most vivid visions and insanely lucid dreams, as The TV People began to What if someone steals this out of my documents? That would be unwise…the best scenes are somewhere scribbled in my notebooks and random scraps of paper somewhere in my room…this series is almost nothing without those scenes—the elements with which the most painful scenes I had ever written, became word form. ‘I don't know why, but I feel so i

[EDITS] CONAN O'BRIEN Alright. If she hit Fallon, she's gonna come for one of us next. No, Conan—that's not how this works. WHAT—where did you come from!? When did you get here? JAY LENO This goes deeper than all of you can understand. WHAT the FUCK, man! When did you-/ —when did he get here? How did you do that?! How did you do that?! What are you, like, the same guy? Are you not all the same guy? [they shrug simultaneously and kind of just agree] Listen at this. Okay then. The enemy of your friend is my enemy. Oh…kay—and the enemy of my enemy—is my friend— That is correct. —so we're all friends here. That's right. Some special forces? Which forces? How special? [JENNIFER LOPEZ is still JENNY FROM THE BLOCK] Do I look like a fool to you? Uh— OOPS [a pre-fame Jennifer Lopez receives a drop full of diamonds instead of the usual; she has been granted access into the Illuminati, and becomes an overnight success.] This feels heavier than usual. Same as always. Hm. Are you sure. Yep. Hey, you're not the regular guy. Regular guy died. That makes sense. JENNIFER ANNISTON is inside of Ū Okay, grosss Not like that [lifting max weight] Okay. That was cool. Wow. Yeah, sure whatever. I am strong Yeah yeah, okay. Are you sure you want to be my size? Yep. JIMMY FALLON/SKRILLEX (we don't know actually which at this point) is also trapped inside of Ū Okay, gross! Yeah. SKRILLEX is in all of Ū. okay—actually, i'm okay with that, but That other guy?! [JIMMY FALLON] Yeah, he's weird. Also meanwhile, kind of— MARSHALL MATHERS has a closet cleaning service lol. Patrick is smooth as a motherfucker, you know. Every time his head is down on the desk like that, he takes a bump of coke. What?! Big uh! [Patrick takes bumps of cocaine in front of a live studio audience—every single night.] Woah! See. Goddamn. You gotta admire a guy like that. Jennifer Anniston is the weight on the cable tension machine Ooh. Psycho bitch devious methods new ludachris commercial All ya'll girls is toddlers I like long boards and longhairs Lawn mowers and lawn shares Aw hell nah, God forgot Cher I got the Blair witch project On Blair, I hope I scare you How dare you. Your girl looks like a naked mole rat. I got my soul back. You blue eyed bastards stole everything From the whole blacks, Hold that thought I'm at Whole Foods market throw in the Amazon algorithm off With marked dollars Look at God at Walmart On them rollbacks You old hacks are cackling I'm shackled to old habits Hold hands with me, rabbit I'm just a silly rapper really, are you? Maybe. Cut the verse of Reverse God Now I'm the devil I'm still lost in the Amazon cart I sharted all up in your pop tarts Before you warmed them up, pops Just for the sake of the art, Heart to heart, It's a war on love And the white girls won with nothin but Buckets of Whatever's up there I wouldn't know Cause I'm stuck job searching And running, Trying not to have a tummy So some gummy worm will love me First their sour, then they're sweet Then nobody, Trolli Holy moly I could use some more petroleum in the ocean! Said nobody But the globalists are performing your programming Which you're worshiping I put my eye on the dollar So I could watch you all Crumble and fall Don't you know The apocalypse is happening at the mall Of all the places How's that for a stream of consciousness, You salamander I asked Anandar back But I went past that chapter Have a chap Or a chapstick, for four times four dollars A bottle of water will cost you a fortune (But at least the drugs are in it) Get it It's recycled piss Distilled? Which is it, Mr,? The mystery box was literally lifted into My dinner from a fishery filled with nothing but niggers in it— I want a refund, before I catch that Fucking curse of poverty from — what'd you call it salmonellahallibut One hell of a cough from someone on the sidewalk But guess what? The devil's in your pocket or your palm, And that's the omen and the psalm rolled into one Cause God is awesome, But my mom is fuckin toxic And that's how I fuckin got here Blow my head off, Slit my wrists And write a song While jumping off a bit When all you need is money, But the world costs more than It's worth, and words are nothing But another fucking problem in your Google documents I look at my son and see a God, But half of Satan's in him, Oh man Robotics Lets be honest, I don't even know how to write this. Where's my sides?! WHERE'S MY SIDES. You don't get SIDES with this; It's just CHICKEN. I don't eat CHICKEN. It appears as though, however– You do. Ok, I gotta get off this playlist. I… i gotta . “The Wal*Mart Wars” Hm. … …………. …. *face* … no. No. l– What is this place. {After a wild night which apparently spiraled out of control, great , there goes my peace. Not forever, though, maybe. FUCK THIS PLACE. I HATE THIS PLACE. Everybody hates this place. But the album is called “I love New York” Yes, thats Technically How it's pronounced, though It's stylized like I _ NY Cause. EXT. MIDTOWN MANHATTAN. DAY Oh, wow, this is beautiful. THis is great. I love this place FUCK THE FEDS. CUT TO: EXT.Typically WHEREVER ELSE Anywhere ‘above' like 87th? Lets just call it 80th, be safe. BE SAFE! NIGGAZ. ah shit, i gotta go. BITCH– But lets just be honest, It's technically ‘above' But it's really [THE BRONX is a literal extension of the Underworld] Oh no. srsly tho. X_c Anyway. FUck man, Do you think i'll ever get good like that. Idk what equipment is this Hmm, lets see, that's approximately $8,000 USD of CDJs wow yep That's retarded Yep. And you still need a mixer. fukt. OKay, I would literally sell my soul for this. Consider it done. wait , really? YES. you earned it. Wait, I– What?! You earned it… Uh oh. Take care now. Shit. [BILLIE ELLISH is trapped inside WALMART] Uh oh. Fuck. what is this place. INT. WALMART. WHENEVER EMPLOYEESLAVES WHAT TIME IS IT. THERE'S NO WINDOWS IN HERE. That's not funny IT'S literally a synonym, we might as well make it a portemantau MEanwhile, in this other dimension, So that i don't offend anybody… Actually, you know what? Be offended. Quit that stupid fuckin shit and follow your dreams! Wait really? Wait, really? Sure! If you want! …i guess. AMERICA NO. INSTANT HOMELESSNESS ok , nvm. Damn. I know, right. wtf r u guys watching. Shut up. All Wal*Mart Employees are actually top secret government agents. x ∞ >.< (we'll just use Billie Ellish as the alternate, but really it could be Could it really? Shut UP, PLURNICORN. Wtf is a PLURNICORN We'll see. [Upon Realizing s/he is trapped in a mysterious place apparently extremely public Wait, you've never been to a Wal*Mart Before?! NO. I grew up in LA Rich as fuck And i've been famous since I was liike 12, Or something. Right. That is–kind of terrifying. LATER: WHY IS IT SNOWING INSIDE. WHERE'S THE EXIT. THEY HAVE GUNS?! oh wow, they have GUNS. WHY DO WE NEED GUNS! KA-BLAM. BECAUSE THEY HAVE GUNS. Bang-bang! Ptttttttttt—sttt. And they have guns. Actually, these are just– confetti cannons. *pop!* Lol “Possibly The Worst Show Ever the infinite rave continues on in Hell as everyone awaits the return of SŪPACREE- The Cosmic Avenger (Who Is NOT a DJ) and Sunnï Blū (who is a superstar rapper but also not a DJ) go back to back, buying time as the beacon to. Signal "The Supacree" is completed, battling the 10th dimensional DJ Ū, a super ninjas, for control of the decks. what else happened? idk. I CANT STOP DANCING. none of the DJs can find a pair of working headphones, and the sound guy is missing from the booth. "missing" YOU SHOT HIM. I THOUGHT IT WAS A TRANQ DART. {Enter The Multiverse} “TVP” Hazel is 6, turns 7 season 1 Season 7- 15 Man, I can't remember the other two kids names, I think the little boy is Ira but I might have named them all and forgotten, shit. Her sister, though is between 4 ½ and 5, they are technically “Irish twins”, and always fighting—they look very similar, however are not at all alike; Hazel is very much a daddy's girl, while her younger sister is a no-nonsense old soul with the tendency to cause trouble, not by being inquisitive or showy, as her sister often is, but rather by being quietly observant, and tends to dismiss both her parents, often isolating, or even dissappearing without notice, quietly and comfortably into her own world—as the series progresses, and though all of Patrick's children like their parents have showcased some kind of special ability or talent— Holy shit, give this kid a name-/ I thought I already named her, I just don't remember. That's true. It seems like they all had names. She is almost very typically, though showing signs of genius, even at the early age at the beginning of the series, a middle child, prone to upset almost too easily, but rather than acting out, is more likely to take her anger quietly; she shares her fathers deep brown eyes, dark hair, and though she looks otherwise very much like her sister, and later despises her father, is more inwardly and outwardly like him, though taking the side of her mother during their separation and divorce, oftentimes even lashing out at her father quite openly, and very vocally, as she grows into herself. “Ira”, (may have had another name earlier) is the youngest of three— as his third birthday approaches sometime during the first season. Great, now I gotta hide all those allegories so nobody can actually draw from this that Patrick— Where's his write up, anyway? That shit could go on for days. I have no idea why this catharsis is happening. I tried to sleep it off, I swear, but I still woke up like— At least mildly obsessive about this, for whatever reason. Hazel's 7 - Season Arc Hazel has the eyes, charm, and charisma for entertainment —she hopes to one day be as her father, an entertainer and performer, and will do almost anything for a laugh. She is often telling jokes, and is a people- pleaser. She is sickeningly cute, with golden hair and Hazel eyes, long eye lashes, and carries baby fat in her face, though she is rather average, neither heavy or plump, and however also not frail at all. She is inquisitive, smart, and busy, almost never idle-minded, and strong. Though sort of a Tom boy, she has been trained well to act with dignity, class, and feminine eloquence, much like her mother—but like her father, has a tendency to be crass, sometimes carelessly so, or even brutally honest—to her mother's disdain, but embraced wholesomely by other family members and adults, she's extremely funny and delightful, and very much unlike her mother, not a spoiled brat at all, often raising questions beyond her years about inequality, later wishing to attend a public school, and becoming quite the advocate for social justice and human rights in her later years, her final season shows a rebellious and sometimes even antagonistic Hazel, who later even favors Esha over her own mother as a parental figure, often confiding in her about things she can't and shouldn't share with her father, although her almost over the top admiration for her father has become the driving force and inspiration for her own endeavors in show business, much to her father's disdain, as she grows older, him becoming more protective of her, and especially within the oftentimes secretive nature of his actual placement and purpose in the business, and her rebellious nature and charm even force-feeding her into the industry, she is a bleeding heart for superstardom, and is often seen along what may be a path to fame, making Patrick's bleeding heart all the more aching, as though he and Catherine remain at odds throughout the series, he truly loves his children, even “the little sick one”, as he refers to the second child. Holy shit, what is this kid's name If I had the energy to go through my notes, I could know; but I don't. The city sickness has been sinking in from the noise of the obnoxious motorists and honestly, being out of protein is giving me muscle soreness, I'm in some sort of a bloated haze from eating almost nothing but carbs, and the fact that I haven't been with anyone in years is starting to circle like buzzards around my head, my heart has been literally screaming but overwhelming with this sense of calm, and though slipping into Patrick's sometimes erratic tendencies, for the most part I've been underwhelmed with society's expectations that I should get some kind of job, and somehow while working not lose focus on my own interests and projects—I hate [the strange modern behaviors of] most people, and everything costs too much money— my son might be going into foster care, or my ex husband is evil enough just to try to force my energy to worry about a problem he's created, and I really wanted to sleep into the afternoon with this lethargy, hoping that everything surrounding this series would just fall off, but it doesn't. I wake up often wishing I could just forget The Festival Project ™ , but the truth is, it just keeps writing itself, but in the very least, sometimes God gives me little presents that mean the very most to me— a chord organ that I thought was from the 80's, but is more likely from the 1960's— I love vintage stuff, and musical instruments, which only God could know, really—my fascination with history as if I'm still living it, and this, my sudden fascination and drive to write and complete just one series has been haunting me almost just as badly as anything else has, but especially ripping me apart—especially since I have motorcyclists ripping through my body as if it were some kind of disease that existed outside of me, so contagious that it began to sink in to my insanity and mental hygiene. I wondered if anybody else knew or cared about these creatures as much as I didn't—and in fact, I had never felt so much like Ali in the way that I didn't care if they, other “human beings” supposedly, all died tragically, and wondered why the walls and windows didn't keep out the sound of the outside world at all… The middle child begins writing secretly very early on, and is the first to be required more extensive therapy, (as suggested by the family's therapist) after her parent's separation and subsequent divorce. It is not long after she begins learning to read and write at all, that she begins also showing interests in art, asking for art lessons and to begin painting and art therapy, rather than the recommended Equine therapy— she often keeps things to herself, then returning to her hidden places at times when the family's dysfunction becomes uncomfortable and overstimulating, very often paining or reading during times of peace, and retreating to her safe places—sometimes under the stairs, into the attic, the treehouse, or even later, the family's barnyard, where she often keeps drawings, as she ages, later comics, sometimes caricatures of the things she absorbs through her own reality—and diaries, sometimes hidden in nooks and crannies and in places no one would think; a true prodigy and genius, though hidden from much the world, as she is often overlooked, however, her therapist begins unfolding her true reality, often times carrying over sessions and losing track of time, picking her brain or even conversations philosophically What's the therapists name? Doctor Robin She has to have a last name Well, she's a child's therapist, so she's Doctor Robin, but It seems like it starts with a T. We'll see. I just saw her anyway. I drifted off again, thinking about how wildly detailed this all was becoming, and wondered if there was a series of fictional books waiting to be written. There certainly could be, but my mind was reeling, freshly showered but still undressed, and not even wanting to think of going outside—and yet—I was out of water, and had learned that the drinking water from the fountains, especially in large quantities, had a tendency to make me sick—I hadn't yet eaten anything, and though the coffee was fresh, and my apartment was clean (which made me overtly overjoyed for some reason) smelling of Lemon Lysol and Bleach; with notes of a strong pot of organic fresh ground coffee, it seemed like I couldn't do much more than lay in bed writing this catastrophically interesting series—and it was interesting, which said volumes, considering I had always been picky about my TV watching, being that only ever did certain series catch my eyes or my ears, and those series were almost always—or always, always specifically well written, perfectly casted, and had the edge and draw of becoming an entire world within itself, which this series, though only a week or two old at best, in my heart and in my mind , was rampantly ravaging my own world, almost as if it had become of some importance to keep writing it, and never stop, and though Patrick was the forefigure, another broken male protagonist, the truth in the series was that the true heroes of this sometimes scarily violent drama, were its women—a story meant to be told with a diversified cast of creatures from all worlds and walks of life—Esha, of course, herself, a role that had been some recreation of myself, somehow, though so different that even primarily, I never did see myself as her, besides the onslaught of some otherworldly pain, visions of a scene recollected from some remarkable download, and it might have been once and for all that I had lost my mind, or my life, if I wasn't a writer—I was, somehow, though, after all, a writer. It had been a fasting day that could have and might have ended tragically anyway, and still the devil marked his mockery of my efforts by consistently flinging perfect bodied women everywhere that I went—though usually with ugly enough faces that I could see nothing but what a man was—uncaring for one thing over the other, a flawless representation of woman, represented in the current time with scantily clad fashion, almost painfully so—the insecurity of women becoming more apparent in the way she would appear, always almost begging to be near to me, with every perfection and complexion I hadn't—but at least I had a tendency to laugh at my own damage, often surmising that she, these demon creatures, hadn't any talent for this at all—which had turned the state of television into a near circus act; that alone urged me to continue writing the series, perhaps with a typewriter, due to the negligence of nepotism within the industry which often resulted in these pretty little creatures getting even further ahead by stealing works as such, and passing them on as their own originality almost so cruelly and without judgement—plagiarism, as it was called, but more accurately intent-to-kill the imminent threat of what had been said to be a minority becoming a more powerful force to flourish in entertainment however, as quickly as the visions had come, the thought of writing it without my phone became dauntingly impractical, and I scribbled only the most intense scenes and plot lines onto notebooks and scratch papers, keeping them as hidden from the algorithm as possible… lol the Al Gore Rhythm Ahahahahahahaha Was that the joke? Maybe. Idk. Maybe. Idk. Hm. Hmmmmm: What: Nothing. That actually might have been it. Really, was it? I will never know. That is kind of a good dad joke, though. And a good band name. Idk about that. My coffee was lukewarm enough so that I could taste its flavor, as I whittled away at whatever it was— The story was almost so beautifully being told in allegories and parables that it seemed a shame I may never be rich enough to buy fame, as it seemed that was the only way to become a star these days— and yet—it was more the wealth than the fame I wanted, I had realized, at all—the polished class of the Manhattanites drawing me out of Brooklyn and into some debauchery which was my own Grandiose thought form, that I could actually become, at the ripe old age of 31, some kind of superstar. ‘Why would I even want that, anyway?' I thought, interrupted painfully by who I'm sure was the same motorist, who seemed to do nothing but circle the block all day, and all night, doing nothing — and I wondered why he himself had decided not to do grub hub in a richer neighborhood, where money would more than likely come more easily. But really— I drifted off to a time where I wanted to ride a motorcycle myself, and the curiosity forced me to go online to check the price of what it might cost to have one. $5,000 for a decent bike, which would include a muffler as not to be so obnoxious and disturbing to others as these creatures had become to me— and I began doing the math on how long it would take to save $5,000 as if it would be possible to work some dead end job for any amount of time without spending money on anything else. It would take at least 5 months to earn enough for a motorcycle, which landed me directly back at “Not worth it”, and as horrible as it was, I did at the very least have a luxury apartment for at minimum the next 5 years, however, wanting still to move to Manhattan, Midtown specifically—or one of the quaint and quiet neighborhoods on the upper West Side. The neighborhood was going to hell, after some unworldly godless force had seemed to drop hundreds of thousands of rude and thoughtless third world workers onto the streets and buildings bordering the one I lived on, the neighborhood becoming more rough and less peaceful with trash and debris from the depression and congenital disease that was poverty, the collective unconsciousness of the masses colliding with my empathetic nature and oversensitivity to sound, especially awful sounds, such as the hundreds of motorcycles and hot rodded junk cars which only seeemed to move in a track around a four block radius, and had become a cancerous trigger of sorts, no authority figure seemed to much care about. I cared less and less each day to listen to music, since I wasn't making it the way I wanted to—and I had realized that the constant displeasure and unrest, the lack of peace had as much to do with the world outside as it did with the world within—and I began to see the disgusting obnoxious noise pollution outside my window as just an extension of man's abuse, ability to rape, torture, and kill, terrorize— the uncaring waging of war, control, and lack of true power; as no good and true man who wielded actual strengeth or true power in any way would continue to show such distructive action and carelessness for others around him— chaos, corruption, abuse, and misogyny was proving to be the downfall of all humankind, as patronaged by man, and, as I became doubtful of anyone's lack of understanding of this, especially as the immigrants themselves were often naturally pedophillic culturally and toxically abusive in nature, most migrants flocking from countries in which women's liberation or the protection of youth had not yet materialized into their understanding of conciousness and morality—the men were weak, unkind, and selfish—the women mere machines at their disposal—and however many there were, I could see that their children, the many of them, remained as the redeeming factor. Anyway, a political ploy for the ages of there ever was such a thing, the newest chapter in American greed and slavery, it only seemed like an extension of evil itself, and less of a coincidence with each growing day—each new person, another burden to the middle class taxpayer, another reason to inflate the cost of living—and all the more reason to continue to terrorize the American people into its own division, hatred, demise, and consumption. e. My faith, however, was unwavering—God was real, but these abusive and toxic creatures were pushing it further away with violent arrogance, and the inability to understand that God itself was the nature they continued to destroy. Robin Bennett Fine. “My name's —ahem— “Ron Sennet, and I ain't In it.” —did the say “don't” write a book about me? It's Not about him… Or something cute he used to say like that, I couldn't remember, but he had a bunch of cute little idioms that matched his name, and to the day, I still missed him — it was 11:15 PM exactly as I hung up the phone, after an unsuccessful attempt to reach 911, after realizing that the threat outside was maddening enough to be impossible to only be in my head, and after weeks of the excruciating noise, I finally called NYPD dispatch, much to my disdain, and of course magically, the noise seemed to disappear, but these abusive and toxic creatures were pushing it further away with violent arrogance, and the inability to understand that God itself was the nature they continued to destroy. Robin Bennett Fine. “My name's Jon Sennet, and I ain't In it.” Or something cute he used to say like that, I couldn't remember, but he had a bunch of cute little idioms that matched his name, and to the day, I still missed him — it was 11:15 PM exactly as I hung up the phone, after an unsuccessful attempt to reach 911, after realizing that the threat outside was maddening enough to be impossible to only be in my head, and after weeks of the excruciating noise, I finally called NYPD dispatch, much to my disdain, and of course magically, the noise seemed to disappear as soon as I had made the call, which infuriated me. It seemed as though the game in entirety to make me look or feel crazy, though I knew I wasn't—well, I was, but not without purpose or reason. I had been theorizing in energy exchange quite decisively making a mark for my alter, at which I asked to be designated the wisdom and truth of the light within the eye, desire, however never in mind, although I had been summoned in part due to the fact that wenwere somehow alike—I was in some ways besides and out of sorts with my set, sinking my teeth into the forced obsession as I unraveled any possibilities and plotline. Episode 01. Pilot An opportunity presents itself seemingly at random— the protagonist's hand is forced into a life changing ultimatum, putting his reuputation and family in danger. Already involved in an illegal gambling ring which operates out of a secret historical prohibition era speakeasy and some “light” drug mulling within its walls, however often extending even as dangerously close to his workplace, Patrick is propositioned to become an investor in the high end escort service, with which he hired and contracted his lover, Kandi, a “rescue” whom he supports in her exchange for exclusivity, to remain as her only client, however, although he begrudgingly declines, wishing not to be involved in anything much more than what he has already kept under the radar, he is intimidated and threatened by blackmail, his high profile becoming at stake—he then obliges to embark upon this new endeavor, the expansion of this establishment to include a warehouse, which houses a large scale brothel, and, able to use his social status to procure wealthy clientele, quickly becomes a power player within a ring of coveted elites, setting fire to his already inflated ego, and colliding with his intense and highly functional polyaddiction, which he has maintained since his youth, using his entertainment persona as an outlet, becoming a medium of excess, fame, and rampant wealth. Patrick is beloved by his peers, and is humbled often by his devoted fans and friends—proactively worshipped as a comic genius, a prodigy, and a revered successor to legendary frontmen— Okay, this is weird, because I started writing this before I even understood what I was writing at all… —specifically, the sixth successor, to his coveted role. I had written for Esha to be the seventh successor, as with the symbolism deeply and quite literally woven into the sometimes brutal framework of the series, which I had shorthanded to ‘TVP'…the world around me trailed off as my eyes blurred as they had been lately, and I wondered if I might be having some kind of stroke or something, as I was certainly some sort of out of body—the day had been strange, and I had given up on a run or a gym for the day, the motorcycles alone ravaging my energy, and whether I worked out or not, they were everpresent anyway. They were some sort of toxic, abusive force I just had to put up with, hoping it didn't upset my psychology so much that it ended me, though I had become quite odd as of recently, rambling more than usual and actually praying out loud, as my silent ones just didn't seem to be working—they were probably white supremacists, or in some way connected to some political terror group, but it didn't seem to matter. Someone liked torturing me, and it was becoming apparent that no matter much time I spent at the gym, this torture was going to persist. After a month long gym streak, at least going once a day to lift something, I rested, or rather, tried to rest, kind of— but my mind had been swirling with thoughts of a man I was certain by now I had made up—and writing the story of a man I was absolutely certain came from my mind, but in a way that it almost made no sense at all—as the more I looked into the world that I had already written about, the more I realized was accurate without first having known these things, and however cursed I might have been to even know such things, I decided to call it some sort of blessing instead. ‘God, I used to get so fucking high for days, and when I would come down, just crying and crying, eating Totinos or DiJorno and a bag of Bugles, I would watch Saturday Night Live for fucking hours, and I hated [Redacted]. I hated him.' Now I still hated [Redacted], but in a different way, and though really it was myself that was more like Patrick, he at the very least, for whatever reason, used to have his face—now, he was just Patrick, and [Redacted] was just [Redacted], and i knew entirely too much about it all, and about myself to be comfortable with it, but nothing was comfortable at all. I had written entire atrocities, novels, and all that was some conglomerate of nonsense which was the festival project, besides how insanely and innately prodigal it all was sometimes, my own words confusing me with a bizzare and asenine dysfunction, awe, actually, often as if someone else had written them, and although I was always at least sort of semi-concious while writing, the spells and cadences I would fall under were some sort of trance, and as I watched the Nirvana rehearsal from Saturday Night Live in 1992, long before [Redacted] or any of the rest of the — Was it Keystone? It was, the Keystone cast of SNL, but the first word my mind had jumped to was Hallmark, which—after referencing Google quickly for a fact check, also stood true. I was willing to admit, even now, though I had long lost interest in Saturday Nighy Live, or anything at all having to do with current events, that the [Redacted] era—or rather even, the Tina Fey era, a true role model, perhaps, and someone I favored over all of the performers I admired, or allowed myself to admire— the Golden Years of Saturday Night were the only years, for me that even mattered— trying to make sense of anything couldn't be done, but I at least had this new project birthed from it to think about. It would be hard to sit down at a taping of The View and not think about all I had written at all, and it would be impossible not to unfold the characters which had presented themselves, though slowly but surely, through the most vivid visions and insanely lucid dreams, as The TV People began to What if someone steals this out of my documents? That would be unwise…the best scenes are somewhere scribbled in my notebooks and random scraps of paper somewhere in my room…this series is almost nothing without those scenes—the elements with which the most painful scenes I had ever written, became word form. ‘I don't know why, but I feel so incredibly high, So incredibly high right now…' They could have been words to a song, but I did feel high as a kite for whatever reason, without the actual kite metaphor quite literally dagling over my head, for once, or at least, it had been a few weeks, not a prominent as is was before. I sat soaking in the tub teetering on the possibility that I should actually even watch The Tonight Show, or whatever it was, to set my mind at ease, a betrayal of my own code—as one does not literally feed its obsessions into insanity on purpose. ‘Perhaps, though', I thought, ‘I could get rid of this.' — A cancerous abscess in the tradegy that had become my own sex fueled, rage driven, racing mind—and rather admittedly, it was almost too late, for anything of the sort, as I hadn't any other place to keep the growing world of The Television People any quieter, than within the monstrous algorithm which was Google documents cloud, where it seemed nothing was safe, and anything could be fabricated into reality after being stolen, by someone rich enough to make it happen, however, never being any better than my own disaster of a creation. And it was, a disaster. He was a comic genius, a professional, and spectacular performer— in actuality, I knew nothing if not anything at all about him, and the more I collected, the more interesting I found myself, actually, bemused that I seem to have found some sort of twin, another synchronizatic nightmare—if only that I made it to be so, unbelieving yet that I was in some kind of fairytale, though it had become some sort of fantastical and adventurous thing, this what I now refer to as ‘the allegories,'. I must have been something parasitic to the industry, with the tendency to latch on and ride out whatever had become a faciniation, but it wasn't, in its sense of origin, like anything before— it was something new, in the ways that it was, and something old at the same time—though needing to fall drastically from The Tower without actually doing so, putting a stop to my unlimited creation became a pertinent priority, as even exercising, meditating, and chronic masturbation tended to exacerbate it, as if I was missing a step in transmutation of this foreign substance— an energy which seemed familiar, but also wasn't. I was receiving downloads several hours at a time, and drifting off into spells and trances of inspiration so heavily that it seemed counterintuitive to call it off, fearing I might lose the intensity of the plot and its characters, and they were that: just characters. It had taken days to erase Patrick's face into a blank state to restore him from that of his namesake, but now everything was a blur, the allure of scrapping it all to return to making music was upon some sort of dawning, but not yet arrived. I allowed whatever came to mind to flow freely from my fingertips, even if it felt bizzare—and even if it felt bizarre, it never felt wrong at all. ‘Unfortunate, that.' , I thought crossing one leg over another to complete my chapter before draining the tub. I promised myself long ago to always pray for my own son, before worrying about another celebrity, whose fame and fortune protected them more than I ever seemed to protect myself or my own—nonsense, but a strong sense of remorse, as I had been painted as wicked, in a sense, just for being kept poor, separated from my son, and left in a world without love at all; My project, a keepsake of the hard work I had done; but had not yet been paid for—and the fear was in the understanding that that money might not ever come, that I would never be a mother, a muse, or anything or anyone else I actually wanted. I thought briefly again about just getting a dog—but I only had 45 dollars, aside from the unmarked Jimmy Fallons, I had placed atop an alter on my kitchen counter, wondering how to multiply them into something I wanted—and that had been the start of the game or the project at all— saving my last dollars and spending them at once, with the hopes and wishes that they would become somehow much larger quantities, returned as good karma for the love I had given, but that had not yet come back, in one form or another. ‘He seems miserable, the poor bloak.' , I thought—and with all that I had known to have come with fame and fortune along with the luck, he probably somewhere, somehow was—but my concern was my son, turning the mere dollars somehow from one's into bundles of hundreds, thousands, and maybe even one day a whole million or more. That was the push behind the project at all—breaking the cycle of the poor black single mother, the story that had been told over and over-/ with stories that had not; the stories that had become [The Festival Project™]# Sai Psy. See you in seven years, then. You're so silly— I'm not going to live seven more years. We'll see about that. You will see. I'll be dead. So I'll be dead. So it is. A summer hiatus, Vacations in Prague, yes Let's pray for the rest of us A sign of the times and a coming of ages Who made you famous again As the rest of us I don't like it As much as I'd like to Keep writing Keep finding the reason to die and you're blinded by kindnesses And I ams I woke up in the 9th dimension, As an infinite friend Familiar with my kitchen JOHN SLATTERY An interesting thing happened this morning. What's that, John? I woke up as John Slattery Just remember what love holds The death of a salesman, rechargeable batteries This walk could take forever in designer jeans Another day in slave hell The controllers controlling And Satan is Sataning Seems like a time to go clubbing It's a simple kind of depression Resting on your head when All you simply wished is the taste of flesh The freedom of skin And the lather of love— Or blood spatter on the pavement Aim for the head If the door's fixed, then we'll break it again Look what greed does I hate lazy days in Manhattan Cause I've never had one What happened on the way to the forum I was starstruck; Five finger death punch Right in the heart I wish I was punctual Right on time for lunch Don't you want to talk to someone more pungent? Don't you got models to robot? Don't you know I never want to hurt you But you know, I'm going to hurt you. You know I'm going to hurt you Now, the review: Sooner or later, I fall over your world Good dudes in drags Good food for thought I'm a dog With the wrong parts You should take Kanye to the mall With a migrants lanyard (The migrants are anarchists! Good one, God) This one goes to. | this one first, from— Which one are you ? I guess we are one in the same It's a famous radio tower Live up to your name Go sell your flower for flour As I stand at the jumping point Eye on Manhattan, The wind beneath my wings Distracting myself from the mansion I haven't The mason jars I ought to buy for bargain The brain and brain cereal I left at the market I used to love Brandy Now I just wish I was something, awesome Now I just wish I was something, awesome Now I just wish I was something, awesome “The Album I Wrote On My Way To The Rock To Return Amazon Purchases No Longer Wanted” That's a really long album title. I didn't imagine I'd write this much Just trying not to imagine this man in his under pants, Or what have you (I'm just a fan) I'm just a dad hunched over in the bathroom Must have been the magic of my backhand, backfired Must have come untied and undone, under the rainbow Must be on my way to Manhattan For some blacklist event. Where I'm from The A List Is a face No name needed “Oh, I know who you are” If I purchased a car today I might get done paying it off By my 81st birthday. Shady. If I had a penny for every mistake I made, I would probably be Nameless. If there was a namesake to lay me into my grave, it would make sense; Yes, let's move the train for a moment With the doors still open. — I'd like to watch what happens. So what happens when the sun comes up On the only body you've ever known And no one wants it What happens with a dude named Starr Punches you over and over again And then no one loves you (That's starstruck, your honor) What happens when granted a pardon for passions And everything happens after is magic What happens when all you want is to go manic To finish the album And just feel good again What happens when the algorithm has Al Gore in it? What happens when the rhythm in blues is just the attraction of random black men and their concubine counterparts? Huh, what happens! What happens, Kanye? What happens, The God? What happens when all that you want is a disgusting assumption of… No on can trust you And nobody loves you Since it was simply a tryst Put this at a distance. Where did my energy disappear to! Where in the fear is my other earring? Fuck. Be somewhere, anywhere else but your office, for the moment. Be anyone but a mother, Anywhere but your apartment— It hurts, the construction. Someone doesn't something Nobody knows nothing about me, But what I put in this casket (This podcast) Oh hey, I got fuck muscles from fuckin myself now! I feel like I'm gonna die if I don't have sex! For real! Heal, Oh great dragon, HEAL, BITCH. Word. woof for the world Will for the wolf; Rain on the roof. Cobain don't have a God (Or a Gun, if you wanted that one) “Pull me up, God, I'm done under here” He called in I followed the fosters to farrow And got better I got better and bitter much quicker and Never in bed had I been as flexible As to kiss his chest As I kicked my own neck With my left foot. What the fucking fairyshit is that? There, I fixed it. Fixed what. I don't know what. But I fixed it. I know, huh! So be 110 and flexible Powerlift tectonic plates Do Pilates And make waffles!? Alright, I can do that But only as Jennifer Aniston I'd like to take back that Fallon I bought at the black market He's broken. I like his band tho— The one on the left hand, Over the damaged one. Are you on to that? Says the sayer, Son of Sam So Sai the sage Sets the stage Is that the plan? Never fall for a man, Even over an alter And tied by the hands. All I see in my initials initially is B Minor 16 might be minors, guys But she's creaming to find you At the front lines Life of a superstar DJ At the cross roads Or the turnstiles How do you turn bile into Beguiling Without rifling a few feathers Or looking into the eye of the rifle And dying first Don't you let that tear fall from you onto the M Train. I'm just training for fame And hating you every day Since we made it Love Get out of my way, Satan I'm staying I'm saying your name sake insanely Please break me Like a chicken leg Or just shake me from this existence Since I don't seem fit for it Anymore than I fit that Givchechy dress you gave that blonde, right? Am I dying! Or just dying inside Fuck coughs If you want him enough to—Use black magic To do that to me, wait till it falls back on you, You gross hag If God hates fags as much as he hates blacks We should fly flags over the haggis I made Alice When she's back from her adventures in wonderland No wonder you're a Monro Crossed over from O'Fallons It's an old warfare with two clans From the old countries With no borders Or border collies Laboradores And labirites, likely As Aphrodite is to smite me So here comes DJ Francis With his new black girlfriend Just kidding We all know in his world It's cold and broken With nothing but blue eyes And big wild to look over you Bro, standing up is not going to make this train go anywhere. I almost promise you. Turns out there's no such thing as a quick trip to The Rock. Turns out you'll sit stuck in your own sick God as my witness For screenshotting those ass pictures —that's somebody's kids, dick. tick tok has no limits. VO Of course, The day and time I should have to go to Rockerfeller Plaza quickly, quietly and unseen, the train is magically destined not to move. I've been sitting here at least a half hour, with no end in sight— [The doors close and the train begins moving.] Hahaha! Fucking hilarious, God. I've been avoiding The Rock like the plague— Not that I think anything would happen at all upon arrival— who am I, anyway? Nobody important. There she goes. Still, I've written enough about it, and the people inside and around it, That the place makes me nervous. More nervous than ever, that is, actually— I always felt weird in the place. [flashbacks] When I first got to New York, I would end up there on accident. Completely by accident. Lost. Faulty navigation. Hackers: Whatever. I always just— By complete fucking accident Ended up at Rockerfeller Plaza The city slips over us, as the train sinks back underground — I'm facing the city now, As not to be reminded of my abuser's toxic words and toxic hands, By dirty white Nikes and Jansport backpacks Still, etched into the subway walls Are two stars, which remind me to repeat the mantra: Starr Michael Roberts is a pedophile wifebeater Less of a mantra than the truest words ever spoken, But that's all the shape of a five point star means to me now or will ever mean to me And to think, The American flag has 50 of the 50 wife beating pedophile men On a red white and blue flag That waves just to remind me I was born a fat ugly black woman To be a slave And there's no one to save us I want to senselessly beat the man in the dirty white Nikes and Jansport backpack Just like I was beaten senselessly by the man called Starr, The devil in disguise as my first love Still trying to chase my soul from its dream Back into his nightmarish under realms of unhygienic hatred, vomit stained rugs And piss stained couches, Phlegm on the walls and Nothing on but Diablo And old episodes of The Sopranos. —but I still love The Sopranos; And I still love my one and only Good thing that ever happened From an awful marriage That buried me wonder what's on this side of the train to write Maybe nothing Nothing I like, anyway Some guy that just thinks i'm some ugly black bitch Of course All the white rich dudes Are horrible I miss the poor surfers Blowing blunts and wishing they was with blondes, With me tucked under their arms I need a tummy tuck to find love Goddamn, I'm miserable just sitting here At least I get a glance at her The tattooed God With the pink hair Where's Wanda Sai the Saige Don't say ahit Unless its music Sai the Saige says Turn the page For more sermons Sai the Saige sings her words carefully Writes forwards for whole books in four words Four worlds down, Now four more. That's a world tour. Lil biiiiiiitzzz Bro, I might never have sex again. There's a new STD on the loose And patient zero is a white man from New York in his 30's FUCKING GROSS. Where's wanda Where's Waldo Ah FUCK I got your wallet WHATS WRONG WITH YOU. SOMETHING which one are you?! Nothing, nobody. Sunni?! I'm not Sonny, you're Sonny. I'm not— Don't say it Whatever Where is it? Where's what? The rock You're on the rock! I that's not — Stop it what I meant! Which one are you— Who are you 8mm I'm the cosmic— Whatever the fuck. Gimmie the rock Get off of me I think too much I think I have a disease I think too much But I don't think much of me It's just as much as I want A three musketeers bar, That's far fetched For a vegan With 12 dollars in the budget For the rest of the month Goddamn. One down 20 to go Call someone To take your husband Home I'm drunk I'm stuck in this thought At the bottom of the rock Damn. 8 always/ eight ways to get lost here Not today though, I hope Follow the smell of coffee — the open doors This the stairs— — up a couple stories. Muscle memory, I— Wait. Are there stairs to the top of the rock? I would walk them. Shazam, what's this lame ass fucking song? Ugh, at least I have muscle memory. OUCH. COME ON. OUCH. Come with me. Ugh. I have so fucking much to do. *I have so much fucking to do. Okay, now what do I do? Just jump! That seems like a bad idea. It's the only idea you've got. That's not even my idea! —but it's the only idea you've got! OKAY, I've got an idea! What's it? Wtf, I've never even seen this many people here. What is this, a field trip? GODDAMIT JUST JMP. i can't, I'm scared! Okay. Then I'll push you. No don't *push* helicopter: fluh - fluh- fluh- flh THERE HE IS— WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! AGHHHHHHHH. GIANT BIRD OF PREHy- SNATCH. GODDAMN Turn SIM down Okay, how much. Just a little How's that That's better. Okay. Look, I am not interested in you. I get that, Jimmy Fallon. I am just doing my job, okay. I get it, Jim. Okay?! Do you understand. I understand. Okay? Okay. Okay. So what is your job, exactly? I keep my mouth shut, Hands fisted misdirected, But staying on track Thank god they put this shit here Hands in my pocket equals words undocumented I can't help but to admit I almost wasn't even writing before this Now fast forward Every time I'm under this, it feels like I'm already in my own show or something Of course, I used to love a good revolving door Shit I used to love at all Man! I hate the rock! Why. Cause fuck Jimmy Fallon, that's why! why?! CAUSE. Look, the you from the other dimension should be coming around that corner any minute. Okay, for what. To use the restroom. Make sure she They: What. Me is a “they” Whatever. I love the rush of death telling me to jump as the oncoming train approaches from behind me I could be blinded by the light. Look, 6'3 God knows what I need And that makes history Make sure when you — when she —- —goes into the bathroom, find Fallon and give him the— I know what to do. Alright, YO. NO. LEAVE ME ALONE. I'm married with a family! I don't find you attractive! At all! I know that, asshole! I only want you for your fame and money! Wait, really? No, you handsome basta'd! Goddammit… Goddammit! Sunni!? I knew that was you! It is me—but the other me is somewhere, so take this—quickly back to the 4th dimension—- This is the fourth dimension! Wait, it is?! YES. What dimension did you think it was The 8th! The 8th?! THAT EXISTS?! yeah!!! Where the fuck are you from?! The third, I thought! Thank god, here's this fucking train. Well, fuck off, then! I gotta go find the 8th dimensional Jimmy Fallon! What! For what?! That's priveleged information Ascended extraterrestrials only, broh! Woah, woah, woah, don't “bro” me. I said “broh” What?! That's what I said— No, you said— Whatever. “Broh”,— —now you said it— —I'm coming with you— Don't be homo. —but, you're a woman, I thought. That's what's you think. That's what the tabloids said… You wanna know what the tabloids said about you? In which dimension? Right?! Now shut up. Come on. [they move quickly towards the— Towards the where? I don't know. I've only ever been at the bottom of the rock: I don't get it. If the antenna is on the top, Then why did my vibe go. GLUH. Sorry: No , that's a lot; what is that: —you really think I'm handsome? I think you're an asshole. I hate writing at the rock (Launching to onesel.) Wtf was that supposed to be (Laughing to one's self) Or (Lunching to one's self?) Or (Launching to— Fuck it, I don't know. You look ridiculous. At least i can just write it off to “Mental Health Problems” MEANWHILE Check it out. The devil is following me. What. Wanna see. What the FUCK is that? He wants my soul. WOAH. Yeah, cool, right. No! Yeah it is… What the hell happened I sucked him off once: You what. Calm down. I didn't know it was the devil. Holy! It's was un Unholy See. Damn Satan Youuuuuuu are fucking gross. Yeah. Nice tattoos though. I thought you'd like this. I do. Who's your body? Some drunk. The alcoholics are so easy. What about my soul. What about your soul, dude? Why doesn't he want my soul? He already has your soul. What?! I never sold my sold my soul. That's what you think. Oh, I get it Comcast owns Jimmy Fallon. Actually, Nancy Drew does, or whatever. What's her name Nancy! HUH- what!! DREW BARRYMORE. GET IN HERE!!!! woah. Okay. I gotta get back to the 90's. Why! I left my DREW BARRYMORE GODDAMIT. Sorry, JUST GET OUT. She is cute, though. She's so fucking cute. Hey, What. Put me on your hit list, For what. Cause. No way, dude. So it's this Nancy Drew Character Uh huh. Then Comcast Correct. Then NBC/Universal. uh-huh Then Lorne Michaels— Wait Correct. Fuck man. So you mean the portion of Jimmy Fallon I won in that game of 8 dimensional poker is pretty much nothin. It's pretty much— Worthless. Not worthless. What are you saying— I'm saying— I'm not a real woman I just saw a real woman With a long skirt And a body worthy of love Beautiful hair And face like porcelain Nothing upon the sleeves strewn in ink Petite I could never be a real woman Actually, you know what. I could have worn anything But I'm not showing up for anything at Rockerfeller Plaza dressed like my inner cumslut YOUR “INNER” CUMSLUT THAT WSS AWESOME I know, God. *belches juicy semen, slurps* You're—a fucking awful person, though, just awful. I know. Just—disgusting. Yeah, but— —that was the best blowjob I ever had Yep. *burps—slurps* ufgh. —and you swallowed all of it. I don't know how! Both: That's was so much! Haha yeah: Jinx! You owe me a blowjob. Okay! You're fucking gross. Yeah. Oh wow. That went deep. I mean, not really “deep” it went aural. *oral* I swear to god if you publish this POSTED DAMN. that dude is good looking. Why is he dating someone that looks like a mouseS Maybe he's into mouce face I guess. I'm into mouse face. [deadmau5] Be nice. Hey! What: what do you want That guys an asshole! Duh! Okay. I love white people But they're weird sometimes I was lookin at this dude on the train Like real hard, And I swear to God, I couldn't tell if that was his girl Or his twin sister I was like What I the fuck am I lookin at Idk but I like it It's almost refreshing to see sliders that aren't made of plastic or whatever awful material OH. CONAN O BRIEN YEAH. But mad young. That's— LUCIFER! Hahahaha what GET BACK HERE. DAMN. That's one good looking kid. Dammit dammit dammit A bunch of handsome white dudes I want nothing to do with It's true I do like the fame The power The respect The money, I could give or take Or make my own Just so you'll date me The power, I like The respect and the fame So your name came and went with the hour And the sunset I might take walk in the rain Because my body is ugly And I just want to be loved A husband Two dogs And pushing a stroller Of course, there's the part that just wants to have fun Get fucked up Love someone I trust enough To rub against Without a rubber Against the grain Our heads together He grabs the back of my neck And I just can't handle it Fuck. I love mad men— and I love men when they're mad Especially Fallon That's somebody's dad in the bathtub, yeah mate Somebody back at the opera Probably phantoms There you go You've got you a girl So grab her hand And hold onto her Don't let her know If you love or fuck someone else Just for the fun of it Don't break her head and her heart at the same time She might not come back from it Like I never did I never came back I was punched in the face maybe 5 Or like 6 times Before I got up, became Skrillex, went for a a run with the dogs And then did it again Never was god, though I got a lot of problems I love the waterfront But no one loves me I'm left in the lobby a lot Like Miley, in that one song I guess I'm destiny Or perhaps I'm your density Once upon a time, I walked here Once a upon a time, I worked here, Shout out to number six. This one is sung for you This verse undoes the hex. Remind me to get your mom hallmark card, someone uttered I fucking love her Remember to stop at the shopping carts before your long walk home Almost hoping you're soaked in the strange acid rain So hard You forget what your name is I spent a whole plot of a film Just trying to be famous Luckily, I think The Tonight Show stops taping in the summer, So with any luck, The real Jimmy Fallon is somewhere in Greece or some shit Rich assholes and their summer vacations— I'm guessing, But still unwavering in the back of my mind somewhere That no matter what, Whenever I'm at 30 Rock, I'm being watched. The entire cast of 30 rock is watching the legends saga in 3D, along with some of the keynote cast of Saturday night live— Don't be selfish I'm not. I don't know what else I used to watched that's owned by this media conglomerate ahem. SLASH/Universal. Oh, so we are doing this back to the future revamp depends, are you gonna keep being fat, Or be spry, like Marty McFly And just for the fuck of it, You're the new Hanson in the new 21 Jumpstreet Movie SUNNI BLU Aight, SUPA Dammit. TINA FEY Do you smell donuts. LIZ LEMON no, it's cookies Follow the smell of the cookies. I get it. I got it. Try to remain unseen! LOOK AT ME. I'M AT THE BASE OF A GIANT PE— COCK. LUTZ When's the action?! Notes: Chocolate man makes everything chocolate Okay. That's stupid. Chocolate! Chocolate! Uhhh—- TINA FEY What are you doing here?!? JIMMY FALLON I work here…what are you doing here? TINA FEY I have tenure JIMMY FALLON. *purses lips* [tina tries to hide the entire cast Reunion of late 90s/early 2000's SNL cast members behind her TINA FEY (Nervously) tah—uh; I thought you were on vacation. JIMMY FALLON *squinting under dark sunglasses* I redacted it. What does that mean? MAYA RUDOLPH (Munching popcorn, wearing overalls) I know what it means. Mm. What does that mean? I read the comics. CUT TO: I have something to tell you. Okay, what. It can't be over the phone. Okay. -31 Where the firefighters is? I got some propolis cough syrup for the stalkers Where is it! Where is what? You know what. What? From the fountain. It wasn't me! I don't have it. . . . . Now my days are shattered My heart is scattered Around down, Fowl feathers of the night owl Dancing in my head In given nightgowns Right now Put the candle out Put the light on Every night, I'm gone Wandering around In the eye of the camera, My orb Falcon turned to black panther I prance around in a dance robe Like a disaster Put it out there, Just so I can't go back Pass the cake Pass the butter Pass the late night hatred Pass away the day praying For the faithless And their fake friends, but I digress Once the cameras are rolling A job's to be done For the funny men of us Are undercover Dressing up the dead And most disgusting sinister The winded wonder bread apostles I am a robot god I am born again in acid rain Something changed me Here's to the late night I hope he hates me —I hope I'm right, at least I hate being right— But I'm always right. Right hand over my bathroom counter Stacked up attacks on the Muslims But I love em Or I want to Hot tub The doctor Don't worry, loser Viewerships down to two downloads According to the numbers My demographic is faggots and players of forenig I have a habit for magic Addiction to alphas, You know? I'm a God I'm a robot I was washed in the acid rain —- Take the back of my neck like an animal Yes sir Put my hair in your hands Pull me back, Like an animal Up the ante Up in the air is my ass In a past life I had to have you Now I stand I higher grounds I'm higher now Coming up next A deeper addiction Coming up next A deeper dicking John Wiccan Coming up next Change the channel, coming over Move em up The winners circle Then move over. I lit a candle for another lover A real one , With a body and mind The tide of my soul wants to know you Behold, way below deck Deep dick Imm in deep shit now Way below the belt Blow all my hole on the dope fiend Do you want to know me A piñata full of chocolate Ive got a new list And you're not on it Aagain with this Again with the What's in my head It's a letter said Never forget this Forget this Forget this Tell me how to be like this To get a man like that To get a real deep dick That's way below deck I should settle for less Just to get my head better Some medical man Or some meth Just to finish this project I could protect a protector with holes in his pockets, The proctor The trophy, Two daughters And another one Here's goes the show I'm way too old for this I just need one good Fred Again Who knows how to hide he's a man But conspired Admirers, You know what it is? A deep dick, man Way, below deck Way below the belt Get ahold of him Ring the phone again I been calling on Collin Coleen is more polished It's brother sister sameness, Same mess for the colonizer White on white is Right on right I'm just behind you Way under the bridge Belt around my head to make it better I'll see you in heaven Out of Manhattan Where trash is the precipice Never better Bodies in perfection Where it went And where it goes again I'll see you then So apparently— Shh Wrong document great! Now we gotta figure out why apparently— [JENNIFER ANNISTON has a vendetta against JIMMY FALLON] What. For WHAT?! Idk, what did you do to this bitch? What did I say?! What did you do?! JENNIFER ANNISTON I'm not finished with you, yet! WHAT? I don't know. Apparently, Goddammit. Wait. What. So he's a genius, right? Yeah, I guess. Which means he's like—socially inept in some kind of way…. Yeah! Yeah. Yeah. Oh yeah. Flashback: Like: the 90's, or whatever. …are you turning me down? Wait. So I just shapeshifted into J-Lo Before. Hello. hello: Yeah. We could have done it. Ew. But we didn't. Ew. I mean: Cut back to: Nobody turns me down! Not even me! Alright. There's something off about that dude. Maybe he's gay… Hm. He not gay. He very not gay. Hm. See, I knew it. He's a good guy! [REDACTED] He's a MONSTER! He's an ANIMAL. WOOOOOOOOOOF . Oh man, that guy is a WOOF. I'm a DOG. Skrillex? I'm a dog Heeeeeeeeeeee Baby Heeeeeeeeee Damn, this fools got a whole list of celebrity ass bitches —a list celebrity. CUT BACK TO I'M SUPER HOT. Hmhm. I know. Listen. Okay, Jennifer Aniston. Are you trying to fuck Jimmy Fallon?! NO! Okay, good. God no. That's— Wait, why NOT?! —I need way more than a million dollars. I knew it! It's about the money. It's actually not about the money. Wait, no, it's not? No. …then what is it? Yo. Okay, so Everybody likes his genetics. And I mean like FUCK IT, I WANT HIM. This one. I want this one! Right here. ICE CREAM. GET YOUR ICE CREAM. Okay, imm not supposed to tell you this but— What. I'm— JOHNNY CARSON LOOK AT ME. Ah, well, alright TAG, YOURE IT. DAMN, you're good. Okay, I'm stoned. Damn. I got a boner. Cool. JLO look at me . I see you. You do see me. You know why? …yes. I am a-list. I get that.

If I'm technically Christ, then Skrillex is the Anti-Christ— And if we fuck out Demi-God children will most possibly bring on the Apocalypse. **most probably. Something's on fire. I think it's your living room. Oh my God! Oh, good, it's just the curtains. Your son set my living room on fire. Not the living room. Just the curtains! [and the couch] My couch! And my couch! Oh my God! Stop it, The Apostle! What. That's The Apostle. He sets stuff on fire. What the Hell. With his mind. You called your son “The Apostle” Sure did. Why. CUT TO: FLASHBACK THE APOSTLE (extremely cute toddler) The Earth with end in a rain of hellfire and blood. Ok. He was 3. Wow: Wait. You named your son when he was 3? We changed it from ‘Simon' Hi, Simon! THE APOSTLE DOOM. *sets fire* WOAH. That's so cool. No, not the google documents! GET IN THE HOLE. Hm. What. Blood Shower All along the watch tower Do you feel good? Do you? Do you feel bad about this. I do. I feel bad about this. I forgot to tell you– I should probably let you know that I just want to MAN, FUCK THIS DUDE. MA. WAHT. IT'S ON. WHAt. THE SHOW IS ON. THEWHAT. THE– *suddenly self aware* …I gotta get out of Boston. What, first this was about war, now it's about bird people? It's about a war WITH the bird people. I should sleep. Hahaha. No. This isn't funny anymore. At least it's over. MA– Oh, it's far from over. Yo, i'm going through some crazy shit right now. Spur of the moment I'd never thought of it; This is gonna take forever. I don't have the patience To even write this I just want french fries right now But been up for two days with no gym and I'm on a diet. GUAC TIME. No, no burritos. GUAC TIME. Oh shit, this is getting real as fuck . NOw i see it three ways. I love it. I hate it. HEY, LET ME OUT. GET BACK IN YOUR HOLE, SKRILLEX. I'M DILLON FRANCIS. IN THE HOLE. Check it out. Huh. It's another DJ. *agrees* Should we pick him up. WEll, the good news is: I found your friend. Oh, that's good. The bad news is: He's dead. Oh, that–'s … nice. Yeah. It is. Uh. Kaskade. Yeah. We gotta find Ryan. Why. What's up? You're freaking me out. Why. What's up. Nothing IS it my eyes? I– *wild ass eyes* Yeah, it's probably that. Fuck dude, what did you do to deadmau5. NOTHIN. He's not the same. What the fuck is that. Holy shit I jus timejumped Where the fuck are you going. How the fuck could this happen?! It COULDN'T. Well, that's it then. *shrugs* Well, I guess we're just gonna have to go dig up Dillon Francis. I guess so. Do you think he's still alive. Like, probably not– Maybe… No, probably not @prodbywar& @Halmadeit This amazon order took me nine hours Alexa, I think i should fire her Like a arm I don't leave at night without armor Don't make me a martyr Your mom will be proud of us all If i make it outta here And i'll look after her Got the whole block coming up on my heels as I walk Wtf is it… Idk dude. Is it speeding up? I…i think so. There's no way this is 140 IT's 140. It's 140 . There's no way. Yes way. Nah huh. Let me see. No. Let me at the decks. Let me at the decks. NO. YO LET ME AT THE DECKS. You want deks. Yes. I got deks. Really. yeus . I never listened to it like this In ableton I read serato, synesthesia and rekordbox I talk a lot, I'm like a human music box I walk a lot I run my mouth a mile a minute (faster than i run around the track reciting rap words) Like they're passwords. Oh, I could do this forever.. I wish i had i microphone right now And was all alone With the lights off Lying on the floor I'd be lying if i said I could afford you Just to fornicate But may consider playing with a foreigner If you're all for her I'm unnerved, you know Cause i've been up so long My monster likes to play with boys and Make the bass go down below where Nobody does anymore Once I get a hold of things Or the hang of it You've got another hot ones on your hands I've another record under my belt Or in my roster, Whatever you'd call it But now I've got no time to bark about Wanting a dog and a daughter But none of the responsibility or Going through all the trouble to find her a father I'm still holding a fart in. Reaally–cause–it's been a really long time. WHAT WOULD YOU KNOW ABOUT A LONG TIME, JIMMY FALLON?? Um a lot! You literally just saw me make the journey all the way up from nothing. I am nothing EXACTLY. I don't have time to fight with you Jiimmy Fallon. I did NOT write these games by myself you know?! Um, excuse me– “GAMES” ?! YES, GAMES. Uh, I've only got one game with you in it, my friend. Is that so! One game that I've written with the Great–formerly LATE Jimmy Fallon. Is that like a play on words cause i'm on late night TV YOu'RE ON ALL THE TIME TV, JIMMY. NBC SHIT IS PRACTICALLY AUTOMATICALLY SYNDICATED. -_- …are you alright. –_-_-__-_ Hold on, I think i've got it Nice, I found a growler. yOu still haven't got all the monsters and sprites Ive got all the big ones, but the little ones are harder to catch. GrO0Wl3rrr. Aww. He's so ugly. Yeah, but cute, though, right. I don't think so. Gro)WwlErrrrrrrrr. Aww. That's so fucking gross. lol . so what does this thing look like. Well, that't the thing about the monsters and sprites. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT. It's alright, it's alright–he's nice. WHAT. THAT'S A SPRITE. No, it's a monster. He's just scary. SUPACREE. David Bowie. What up. God, it took me ages to find you. Tell me about it. I'm still trying. We've been expecting you for a long time. You were expecting I'd die? Yes. So when she says she's “married to the music…” I'm married to the music. Oh, so. Yo, honestly if you een want to talk to this bitch, you'd better have like a musical instrument, or a mic in your hands, Otherwise– No, getawayfrom me. It's not even worth it. HI. –No. What's up? Tempo. SUNNI Cotour From the store I was poor Now i'm honorable In velour, Glamour (Snap) Forsure, Jesus Christs is making appearances in my abletons I'm not able to comprehend or understand exactly the message, But the evidence sire is mounting Get it Reached the temple, More of a sanctuary, Is that sacrilegious I guess it is, I'm stressed as ever Trying to get it together {Enter The Multiverse} Now I know too well, The well of tears on my guitar She's got a body like one Oh her curves But I just wonder what it like to be loved By stars Socialites and superstars They're Gods, you know How high up they are Above us And he lives in an ascended dimension, But he insists, he says Her transcendence is upon us He said Your transcendence is upon us He says these things, And then just vanishes So she gets up promptly Warms up yesterday's coffee Looks around in her coffin And wonders What for I just Wonder what it's like to be loved by stars Without double r's, you know I've got scars But it's mostly just Teardrops, and soft kisses On my guitar Cause, oh, Oli, I ain't got nobody— And nobody holds me Like I hold Oli (Could have been Ali, But of course— I had already lost that one A whole well of tears, I lost At his departure And a whole well more When I actually lost him I almost miss Having someone to talk to About anything and everything But I've got Oli And God now I've got Oli And Oli (oli) Is all that I've got Besides God That's the only contact In my Phone book No more double Ls And double entendres; No more double rs At all Just scars now No more metaphors. Honest is radical I like them cynical I should have clinical insanity by now But I'm only just an artist You can't help But can only harm that And if it hurts hard enough I'll put art on my walls Become permanent Storybooks all over my arms now My coat of arms now I've run Ten point 5 miles In the last 3 days; But if I rest today Will a motorcycle gang Have a parade outside of my window, To drive me crazy? I hope it rains, So they can't play these games with my head And the seeds that I planted So deep become daisies I still don't remember The way he rearranged me But these days I make my name sound So the way He can never say it Just imitates The way I hate myself I should be dating But expressions are Atrocious If I fall asleep— Who knows I may get Stolen That tends to happen So I'm All the way up And I'm swollen in ways That I hate to say “I love you” Love me back Or say it harder That's my martyrdom Come off the cross, for a moment, Would you for us? And bend over Or bow, if you will? If I did, Would you still call me wicked Or just a Good witch Since I'm a woman, I just couldn't be Jesus, Who you asked for once And always Who you asked for some To save you from your Credit reports And consorts Or some sort of Nonsense [famous last words] God don't speak much English, She says God don't speak much these days We were Always Telepathic That was way back then When Oedipus Rex Was on the Guest list I was standing at the coat check, asking Why I must take off my hat When entering the service To the bouncer, he says “That's just politics” I said, That's just politics We both said, What's the difference Then we all laughed —then we all just laughed and laughed Exchange is my favorite exchange Where my favorite exchanges Have happened for centuries Of engagements Endeared species, And races pieces haven't tasted the same Since I haven't had them Animal products And animal planet I found this hat on Discovery channel Did you want it? I can't stand it So I had to have it back I just had to use the bathroom I just had to disconnect From [] See— I don't even have to put the words in Cause a name is just words When that's a man You just can't have And that's the worse When that's a man And you can't have him What a habit. Silky rabbit. Now he's the Ace. All In A Day's Work I've never died before. Oh… that is terrifying. It sounds terrible. It's really not that bad. Why are you not writing this down? I just need a moment… It's really not that bad… I die all the time. I get sensory overload At Trader Joe's Look at the colors The clothes, This sure isn't queensborough Escalators for shopping carts I get it Manhattan I'll take my half BLVCK ass to the projects Where my kind are I don't belong here , God you're intolerant I like this part of town But I'm way too brown And I dropped my crown at the market I should be jealous of everyone But I have learned my place I've been a slave since Hollywood I lost my son to the devil Now I pay child support And terrorist follow me coughing I'm wrong just for being born ! You could start a war from it If that's what you wanted I'm a people watcher people watcher About to board the people mover People mover Slip, Here's the tell Slip, here's the tell I should have a bell around my neck I think she wanted a picture with papa I'm playin my own paparazzi Look mom, I bought a sacafagus There go them niggas with coughs again I been watching em Got binoculars I got oculus, for my oculars Look how hot he is, make me ovulate Man I gotta love it, Cause they love to hate Fucking racist crazies Have it your way I paid for it with my soul You hate but I love to love Somebody just got me fuckes up I don't have a book to run off of Shut up, honey. Now we're all up here Monkey in the middle Cause the middle one is weaker It's getting deeper and deeper Like the sinkhole that my sink is Let it sink in I've been syncing my secrets with demons In dreams sequences It's just a reparative injustice Kamasutra for your wondering words and stuff You can have it It's ruined anyway m Look at all this trash Look at all these classless classes Classwars, Racists. Everybody hates us The Asians, Latinx's The other niggas What being black is I'll write it in cursive It's just a curse, here So you can have it I'm moving to Heaven I'm packing my boxes I'm getting a cat, too! His name is Agustus He's a big one And I love him I just wanted a hug or a husband Instead I got nothing to trying my hardest And got for a bargain at target some coffee For being a targeted body All on an algorithm I guess I'm just useless. A dumb nigger demon Did I just offend you? Then you shouldn't be reading this either I wrote it for pleasure (Or pain) On the one Or the two Or the one Or the two I could do a lot with this $20. I could spend it all on Fuck all of you I'm moving to Heaven Where the heart it She's not harmless She's a terrorist— And I'll kill her, too Look how right she is Look how white she is, Huh Regardless of color It's a race war Lil biiiiitzzz Yooo, fuck New York. In every hole. In every crevice. Fuck this place. It's racist— Not just cause I'm black. Like statistically. It took a whole ass apartment elsesrch to feature this out. I was like “I wanna live in Manhattan” Everyone was like “NOOOOOOOO—-“ Haha “Nooo, no.” I was like “Why not?” The blacks were like: HAHA The whites were like— *COUGHS OBNOXIOUSLY* New York is so racist. It is statistically the most diverse—and most segregated city in the nation At the same time. WHAT. How do you even DO that? But it's true, at this point, the black people are like—fuck this, we'll just stay over here, and over here. And the rich whites are like YES. KEEP THAT SHIT, OVER THERE. Cause if you've ever been to the ghetto. It's some SHIT, It is NOT COOL. I finally got my ‘night card' back. Had it revoked in california . I was almost a whole valley girl. I still eat exclusively at Whole Foods. Trader Joe's. But NO. Now i live in the hood. It's fucking disgusting. I can say ‘nigga' again. Cause it's NIGGAS. Lots of niggas. I'm telling you. It's night and day! The white folks trains smell like bleach— Ammonia. The black folks train smell like a McDonald's. WHAT. Or just— Vomit. I can actually count the number of times just— Vomit—- On the train. Or. Dookie. Yes. Human feces. But I'm ready to go to midtown and it's like the train that goes around Disneyland. Families! People singing! Hey—cotton candy!! —and I didn't have to pick it! Haha! Fuck New York. Racist ass HOLE. I thought surely the next presidential election was one or two years out, but the racial tensions which had been rising became even more pronounced, as I realized that November was theboncoming time—and that they hostility between the whites and the blacks had once again been a result as the oncoming war, fueled onward—that the hatred, disgust, and general aggression of the whites had been of course, in the midsts of yet another Trump-fueled political upheaval, and I wondered why and how at all I had been caught in such a world that existed in form of man, of course, now proven himself to be the weaker sex, and yet in that of dominance, as was arranged in such an unholy war, to be the helm of power by sheer greed— now it seemed that these attacks were indeed political terrorism, and that these motorcyclists, my placement close to the ground level, and my neighbor's clammorings were specific attacks, after my identity had been varied to be that of the same in which I had once held political ambition, now none of which I assumed mattered at all. Perhaps I needed something more certain than a 12 story jump or suicide by train, and wondered as to whether it would be easy enough to kill myself bh self inflicted gunshot—a sure thing for certain, as love has been lost in the way of money at all. At that party…or rather, kind of—after. That acid that never hit Beyoncé I don't feel it. Man, I'm a terrible influence(r) Just take it. Nah, I'm good— PUSSY. -_- Give me three. K. —suddenly hits BEYONCÉ. BEYONCÉ …I got this. [BEYONCE] however, does not Ohh, shit. — “got this.” A very stranded, very sober Johnny depp stumbles upon what appears to be a college frat party, where the only thing they have is light beer, and nobody even recognizes him as a celebrity, because the attendees are all gen z What's even after gen z? The fucking apocalypse. Anyway. The acid hits Beyoncé on her way to make coffee, which extends the trip from the living room to the kitchen infinitely. Multidimensional Anne Hathaway hulks the fuck out and saves the day by ruining everything, which actually fixes everything— and *spoiler* helps Jesus to remain as the king of kings at beer pong. Lol In the late 90s in New York City, the keystone cast of Saturday night live learns of each other's formerly sexret psychic abilities, and uses the radio technologies of Rockefeller plaza to develop a research center for the telepathically gifted, eventually discovering and perfecting time travel. Supacree (the kid version) appears in and out of her ideal and desired realities, baffling ‘the Hollywood people' and later ‘the New York people', becoming the legendary central figure of the Illuminati, as the original timepiece — a pyramid shaped extra terrestrial vehicle which contains an ascended hyper conciousness, which I can't remember how it goes, did the supacree leave to find the Skrillex, or was it the other way around? I think it was both ways at some point, but the whole thing was this, just in case I never wrote it but just saw— These space god (humanoid evolved) are some kind of scientists/ doctors— there are four timepieces, each representing an era upon our planet; earth, which is distant but sacred— these four time pieces each depart their given “docs” in time to appear on earth at specific Fuck this is hard to explain Times in history, at which the first worlds, or previous human eras were known to have been destroyed— these time pieces travel through time space with the full record of these events in order to alert the current human era of its imminent doom, as an attempt to prevent such disasterous events, typically war, which will lead to the annihilation of the human species; these Gods, one male and one female, a king and queen, a married couple are the rules of the humankind, technically worshiped as a whole as one God, with whom the human design was modeled after, however, the true source of all things is the cosmos, known and unknown, in its totality—neither man or woman, but the force of creation. Anyway, what else is happening Oh. All of the celebrities are stuck in— [the festival project] in some way, shape, or form until its creator finishes it—and though it in itself is infinite, its 'finishing' notates its eventual production, which lol. That never going to happen. Because. Let's face it. I'm scared of …rich people. Yeah, sure. Yeah. I'm scared of The effect of the race war, which has been to pit the white woman against the black woman, which allows and maintains the continuation of war mongering male dominance over the entire planet, which remains as a destructive force of greed, racism, and inequality. So why try? [EDITS] CONAN O'BRIEN Alright. If she hit Fallon, she's gonna come for one of us next. No, Conan—that's not how this works. WHAT—where did you come from!? When did you get here? JAY LENO This goes deeper than all of you can understand. WHAT the FUCK, man! When did you-/ —when did he get here? How did you do that?! How did you do that?! What are you, like, the same guy? Are you not all the same guy? [they shrug simultaneously and kind of just agree] Listen at this. Okay then. The enemy of your friend is my enemy. Oh…kay—and the enemy of my enemy—is my friend— That is correct. —so we're all friends here. That's right. Some special forces? Which forces? How special? [JENNIFER LOPEZ is still JENNY FROM THE BLOCK] Do I look like a fool to you? Uh— OOPS [a pre-fame Jennifer Lopez receives a drop full of diamonds instead of the usual; she has been granted access into the Illuminati, and becomes an overnight success.] This feels heavier than usual. Same as always. Hm. Are you sure. Yep. Hey, you're not the regular guy. Regular guy died. That makes sense. JENNIFER ANNISTON is inside of Ū Okay, grosss Not like that [lifting max weight] Okay. That was cool. Wow. Yeah, sure whatever. I am strong Yeah yeah, okay. Are you sure you want to be my size? Yep. JIMMY FALLON/SKRILLEX (we don't know actually which at this point) is also trapped inside of Ū Okay, gross! Yeah. SKRILLEX is in all of Ū. okay—actually, i'm okay with that, but That other guy?! [JIMMY FALLON] Yeah, he's weird. Also meanwhile, kind of— MARSHALL MATHERS has a closet cleaning service lol. Patrick is smooth as a motherfucker, you know. Every time his head is down on the desk like that, he takes a bump of coke. What?! Big uh! [Patrick takes bumps of cocaine in front of a live studio audience—every single night.] Woah! See. Goddamn. You gotta admire a guy like that. Jennifer Anniston is the weight on the cable tension machine Ooh. Psycho bitch devious methods new ludachris commercial All ya'll girls is toddlers I like long boards and longhairs Lawn mowers and lawn shares Aw hell nah, God forgot Cher I got the Blair witch project On Blair, I hope I scare you How dare you. Your girl looks like a naked mole rat. I got my soul back. You blue eyed bastards stole everything From the whole blacks, Hold that thought I'm at Whole Foods market throw in the Amazon algorithm off With marked dollars Look at God at Walmart On them rollbacks You old hacks are cackling I'm shackled to old habits Hold hands with me, rabbit I'm just a silly rapper really, are you? Maybe. Cut the verse of Reverse God Now I'm the devil I'm still lost in the Amazon cart I sharted all up in your pop tarts Before you warmed them up, pops Just for the sake of the art, Heart to heart, It's a war on love And the white girls won with nothin but Buckets of Whatever's up there I wouldn't know Cause I'm stuck job searching And running, Trying not to have a tummy So some gummy worm will love me First their sour, then they're sweet Then nobody, Trolli Holy moly I could use some more petroleum in the ocean! Said nobody But the globalists are performing your programming Which you're worshiping I put my eye on the dollar So I could watch you all Crumble and fall Don't you know The apocalypse is happening at the mall Of all the places How's that for a stream of consciousness, You salamander I asked Anandar back But I went past that chapter Have a chap Or a chapstick, for four times four dollars A bottle of water will cost you a fortune (But at least the drugs are in it) Get it It's recycled piss Distilled? Which is it, Mr,? The mystery box was literally lifted into My dinner from a fishery filled with nothing but niggers in it— I want a refund, before I catch that Fucking curse of poverty from — what'd you call it salmonellahallibut One hell of a cough from someone on the sidewalk But guess what? The devil's in your pocket or your palm, And that's the omen and the psalm rolled into one Cause God is awesome, But my mom is fuckin toxic And that's how I fuckin got here Blow my head off, Slit my wrists And write a song While jumping off a bit When all you need is money, But the world costs more than It's worth, and words are nothing But another fucking problem in your Google documents I look at my son and see a God, But half of Satan's in him, Oh man Robotics Lets be honest, I don't even know how to write this. Where's my sides?! WHERE'S MY SIDES. You don't get SIDES with this; It's just CHICKEN. I don't eat CHICKEN. It appears as though, however– You do. Ok, I gotta get off this playlist. I… i gotta . “The Wal*Mart Wars” Hm. … …………. …. *face* … no. No. l– What is this place. {After a wild night which apparently spiraled out of control, great , there goes my peace. Not forever, though, maybe. FUCK THIS PLACE. I HATE THIS PLACE. Everybody hates this place. But the album is called “I love New York” Yes, thats Technically How it's pronounced, though It's stylized like I _ NY Cause. EXT. MIDTOWN MANHATTAN. DAY Oh, wow, this is beautiful. THis is great. I love this place FUCK THE FEDS. CUT TO: EXT.Typically WHEREVER ELSE Anywhere ‘above' like 87th? Lets just call it 80th, be safe. BE SAFE! NIGGAZ. ah shit, i gotta go. BITCH– But lets just be honest, It's technically ‘above' But it's really [THE BRONX is a literal extension of the Underworld] Oh no. srsly tho. X_c Anyway. FUck man, Do you think i'll ever get good like that. Idk what equipment is this Hmm, lets see, that's approximately $8,000 USD of CDJs wow yep That's retarded Yep. And you still need a mixer. fukt. OKay, I would literally sell my soul for this. Consider it done. wait , really? YES. you earned it. Wait, I– What?! You earned it… Uh oh. Take care now. Shit. [BILLIE ELLISH is trapped inside WALMART] Uh oh. Fuck. what is this place. INT. WALMART. WHENEVER EMPLOYEESLAVES WHAT TIME IS IT. THERE'S NO WINDOWS IN HERE. That's not funny IT'S literally a synonym, we might as well make it a portemantau MEanwhile, in this other dimension, So that i don't offend anybody… Actually, you know what? Be offended. Quit that stupid fuckin shit and follow your dreams! Wait really? Wait, really? Sure! If you want! …i guess. AMERICA NO. INSTANT HOMELESSNESS ok , nvm. Damn. I know, right. wtf r u guys watching. Shut up. All Wal*Mart Employees are actually top secret government agents. x ∞ >.< (we'll just use Billie Ellish as the alternate, but really it could be Could it really? Shut UP, PLURNICORN. Wtf is a PLURNICORN We'll see. [Upon Realizing s/he is trapped in a mysterious place apparently extremely public Wait, you've never been to a Wal*Mart Before?! NO. I grew up in LA Rich as fuck And i've been famous since I was liike 12, Or something. Right. That is–kind of terrifying. LATER: WHY IS IT SNOWING INSIDE. WHERE'S THE EXIT. THEY HAVE GUNS?! oh wow, they have GUNS. WHY DO WE NEED GUNS! KA-BLAM. BECAUSE THEY HAVE GUNS. Bang-bang! Ptttttttttt—sttt. And they have guns. Actually, these are just– confetti cannons. *pop!* Lol “Possibly The Worst Show Ever the infinite rave continues on in Hell as everyone awaits the return of SŪPACREE- The Cosmic Avenger (Who Is NOT a DJ) and Sunnï Blū (who is a superstar rapper but also not a DJ) go back to back, buying time as the beacon to. Signal "The Supacree" is completed, battling the 10th dimensional DJ Ū, a super ninjas, for control of the decks. what else happened? idk. I CANT STOP DANCING. none of the DJs can find a pair of working headphones, and the sound guy is missing from the booth. "missing" YOU SHOT HIM. I THOUGHT IT WAS A TRANQ DART. {Enter The Multiverse} “TVP” Hazel is 6, turns 7 season 1 Season 7- 15 Man, I can't remember the other two kids names, I think the little boy is Ira but I might have named them all and forgotten, shit. Her sister, though is between 4 ½ and 5, they are technically “Irish twins”, and always fighting—they look very similar, however are not at all alike; Hazel is very much a daddy's girl, while her younger sister is a no-nonsense old soul with the tendency to cause trouble, not by being inquisitive or showy, as her sister often is, but rather by being quietly observant, and tends to dismiss both her parents, often isolating, or even dissappearing without notice, quietly and comfortably into her own world—as the series progresses, and though all of Patrick's children like their parents have showcased some kind of special ability or talent— Holy shit, give this kid a name-/ I thought I already named her, I just don't remember. That's true. It seems like they all had names. She is almost very typically, though showing signs of genius, even at the early age at the beginning of the series, a middle child, prone to upset almost too easily, but rather than acting out, is more likely to take her anger quietly; she shares her fathers deep brown eyes, dark hair, and though she looks otherwise very much like her sister, and later despises her father, is more inwardly and outwardly like him, though taking the side of her mother during their separation and divorce, oftentimes even lashing out at her father quite openly, and very vocally, as she grows into herself. “Ira”, (may have had another name earlier) is the youngest of three— as his third birthday approaches sometime during the first season. Great, now I gotta hide all those allegories so nobody can actually draw from this that Patrick— Where's his write up, anyway? That shit could go on for days. I have no idea why this catharsis is happening. I tried to sleep it off, I swear, but I still woke up like— At least mildly obsessive about this, for whatever reason. Hazel's 7 - Season Arc Hazel has the eyes, charm, and charisma for entertainment —she hopes to one day be as her father, an entertainer and performer, and will do almost anything for a laugh. She is often telling jokes, and is a people- pleaser. She is sickeningly cute, with golden hair and Hazel eyes, long eye lashes, and carries baby fat in her face, though she is rather average, neither heavy or plump, and however also not frail at all. She is inquisitive, smart, and busy, almost never idle-minded, and strong. Though sort of a Tom boy, she has been trained well to act with dignity, class, and feminine eloquence, much like her mother—but like her father, has a tendency to be crass, sometimes carelessly so, or even brutally honest—to her mother's disdain, but embraced wholesomely by other family members and adults, she's extremely funny and delightful, and very much unlike her mother, not a spoiled brat at all, often raising questions beyond her years about inequality, later wishing to attend a public school, and becoming quite the advocate for social justice and human rights in her later years, her final season shows a rebellious and sometimes even antagonistic Hazel, who later even favors Esha over her own mother as a parental figure, often confiding in her about things she can't and shouldn't share with her father, although her almost over the top admiration for her father has become the driving force and inspiration for her own endeavors in show business, much to her father's disdain, as she grows older, him becoming more protective of her, and especially within the oftentimes secretive nature of his actual placement and purpose in the business, and her rebellious nature and charm even force-feeding her into the industry, she is a bleeding heart for superstardom, and is often seen along what may be a path to fame, making Patrick's bleeding heart all the more aching, as though he and Catherine remain at odds throughout the series, he truly loves his children, even “the little sick one”, as he refers to the second child. Holy shit, what is this kid's name If I had the energy to go through my notes, I could know; but I don't. The city sickness has been sinking in from the noise of the obnoxious motorists and honestly, being out of protein is giving me muscle soreness, I'm in some sort of a bloated haze from eating almost nothing but carbs, and the fact that I haven't been with anyone in years is starting to circle like buzzards around my head, my heart has been literally screaming but overwhelming with this sense of calm, and though slipping into Patrick's sometimes erratic tendencies, for the most part I've been underwhelmed with society's expectations that I should get some kind of job, and somehow while working not lose focus on my own interests and projects—I hate [the strange modern behaviors of] most people, and everything costs too much money— my son might be going into foster care, or my ex husband is evil enough just to try to force my energy to worry about a problem he's created, and I really wanted to sleep into the afternoon with this lethargy, hoping that everything surrounding this series would just fall off, but it doesn't. I wake up often wishing I could just forget The Festival Project ™ , but the truth is, it just keeps writing itself, but in the very least, sometimes God gives me little presents that mean the very most to me— a chord organ that I thought was from the 80's, but is more likely from the 1960's— I love vintage stuff, and musical instruments, which only God could know, really—my fascination with history as if I'm still living it, and this, my sudden fascination and drive to write and complete just one series has been haunting me almost just as badly as anything else has, but especially ripping me apart—especially since I have motorcyclists ripping through my body as if it were some kind of disease that existed outside of me, so contagious that it began to sink in to my insanity and mental hygiene. I wondered if anybody else knew or cared about these creatures as much as I didn't—and in fact, I had never felt so much like Ali in the way that I didn't care if they, other “human beings” supposedly, all died tragically, and wondered why the walls and windows didn't keep out the sound of the outside world at all… The middle child begins writing secretly very early on, and is the first to be required more extensive therapy, (as suggested by the family's therapist) after her parent's separation and subsequent divorce. It is not long after she begins learning to read and write at all, that she begins also showing interests in art, asking for art lessons and to begin painting and art therapy, rather than the recommended Equine therapy— she often keeps things to herself, then returning to her hidden places at times when the family's dysfunction becomes uncomfortable and overstimulating, very often paining or reading during times of peace, and retreating to her safe places—sometimes under the stairs, into the attic, the treehouse, or even later, the family's barnyard, where she often keeps drawings, as she ages, later comics, sometimes caricatures of the things she absorbs through her own reality—and diaries, sometimes hidden in nooks and crannies and in places no one would think; a true prodigy and genius, though hidden from much the world, as she is often overlooked, however, her therapist begins unfolding her true reality, often times carrying over sessions and losing track of time, picking her brain or even conversations philosophically What's the therapists name? Doctor Robin She has to have a last name Well, she's a child's therapist, so she's Doctor Robin, but It seems like it starts with a T. We'll see. I just saw her anyway. I drifted off again, thinking about how wildly detailed this all was becoming, and wondered if there was a series of fictional books waiting to be written. There certainly could be, but my mind was reeling, freshly showered but still undressed, and not even wanting to think of going outside—and yet—I was out of water, and had learned that the drinking water from the fountains, especially in large quantities, had a tendency to make me sick—I hadn't yet eaten anything, and though the coffee was fresh, and my apartment was clean (which made me overtly overjoyed for some reason) smelling of Lemon Lysol and Bleach; with notes of a strong pot of organic fresh ground coffee, it seemed like I couldn't do much more than lay in bed writing this catastrophically interesting series—and it was interesting, which said volumes, considering I had always been picky about my TV watching, being that only ever did certain series catch my eyes or my ears, and those series were almost always—or always, always specifically well written, perfectly casted, and had the edge and draw of becoming an entire world within itself, which this series, though only a week or two old at best, in my heart and in my mind , was rampantly ravaging my own world, almost as if it had become of some importance to keep writing it, and never stop, and though Patrick was the forefigure, another broken male protagonist, the truth in the series was that the true heroes of this sometimes scarily violent drama, were its women—a story meant to be told with a diversified cast of creatures from all worlds and walks of life—Esha, of course, herself, a role that had been some recreation of myself, somehow, though so different that even primarily, I never did see myself as her, besides the onslaught of some otherworldly pain, visions of a scene recollected from some remarkable download, and it might have been once and for all that I had lost my mind, or my life, if I wasn't a writer—I was, somehow, though, after all, a writer. It had been a fasting day that could have and might have ended tragically anyway, and still the devil marked his mockery of my efforts by consistently flinging perfect bodied women everywhere that I went—though usually with ugly enough faces that I could see nothing but what a man was—uncaring for one thing over the other, a flawless representation of woman, represented in the current time with scantily clad fashion, almost painfully so—the insecurity of women becoming more apparent in the way she would appear, always almost begging to be near to me, with every perfection and complexion I hadn't—but at least I had a tendency to laugh at my own damage, often surmising that she, these demon creatures, hadn't any talent for this at all—which had turned the state of television into a near circus act; that alone urged me to continue writing the series, perhaps with a typewriter, due to the negligence of nepotism within the industry which often resulted in these pretty little creatures getting even further ahead by stealing works as such, and passing them on as their own originality almost so cruelly and without judgement—plagiarism, as it was called, but more accurately intent-to-kill the imminent threat of what had been said to be a minority becoming a more powerful force to flourish in entertainment however, as quickly as the visions had come, the thought of writing it without my phone became dauntingly impractical, and I scribbled only the most intense scenes and plot lines onto notebooks and scratch papers, keeping them as hidden from the algorithm as possible… lol the Al Gore Rhythm Ahahahahahahaha Was that the joke? Maybe. Idk. Maybe. Idk. Hm. Hmmmmm: What: Nothing. That actually might have been it. Really, was it? I will never know. That is kind of a good dad joke, though. And a good band name. Idk about that. My coffee was lukewarm enough so that I could taste its flavor, as I whittled away at whatever it was— The story was almost so beautifully being told in allegories and parables that it seemed a shame I may never be rich enough to buy fame, as it seemed that was the only way to become a star these days— and yet—it was more the wealth than the fame I wanted, I had realized, at all—the polished class of the Manhattanites drawing me out of Brooklyn and into some debauchery which was my own Grandiose thought form, that I could actually become, at the ripe old age of 31, some kind of superstar. ‘Why would I even want that, anyway?' I thought, interrupted painfully by who I'm sure was the same motorist, who seemed to do nothing but circle the block all day, and all night, doing nothing — and I wondered why he himself had decided not to do grub hub in a richer neighborhood, where money would more than likely come more easily. But really— I drifted off to a time where I wanted to ride a motorcycle myself, and the curiosity forced me to go online to check the price of what it might cost to have one. $5,000 for a decent bike, which would include a muffler as not to be so obnoxious and disturbing to others as these creatures had become to me— and I began doing the math on how long it would take to save $5,000 as if it would be possible to work some dead end job for any amount of time without spending money on anything else. It would take at least 5 months to earn enough for a motorcycle, which landed me directly back at “Not worth it”, and as horrible as it was, I did at the very least have a luxury apartment for at minimum the next 5 years, however, wanting still to move to Manhattan, Midtown specifically—or one of the quaint and quiet neighborhoods on the upper West Side. The neighborhood was going to hell, after some unworldly godless force had seemed to drop hundreds of thousands of rude and thoughtless third world workers onto the streets and buildings bordering the one I lived on, the neighborhood becoming more rough and less peaceful with trash and debris from the depression and congenital disease that was poverty, the collective unconsciousness of the masses colliding with my empathetic nature and oversensitivity to sound, especially awful sounds, such as the hundreds of motorcycles and hot rodded junk cars which only seeemed to move in a track around a four block radius, and had become a cancerous trigger of sorts, no authority figure seemed to much care about. I cared less and less each day to listen to music, since I wasn't making it the way I wanted to—and I had realized that the constant displeasure and unrest, the lack of peace had as much to do with the world outside as it did with the world within—and I began to see the disgusting obnoxious noise pollution outside my window as just an extension of man's abuse, ability to rape, torture, and kill, terrorize— the uncaring waging of war, control, and lack of true power; as no good and true man who wielded actual strengeth or true power in any way would continue to show such distructive action and carelessness for others around him— chaos, corruption, abuse, and misogyny was proving to be the downfall of all humankind, as patronaged by man, and, as I became doubtful of anyone's lack of understanding of this, especially as the immigrants themselves were often naturally pedophillic culturally and toxically abusive in nature, most migrants flocking from countries in which women's liberation or the protection of youth had not yet materialized into their understanding of conciousness and morality—the men were weak, unkind, and selfish—the women mere machines at their disposal—and however many there were, I could see that their children, the many of them, remained as the redeeming factor. Anyway, a political ploy for the ages of there ever was such a thing, the newest chapter in American greed and slavery, it only seemed like an extension of evil itself, and less of a coincidence with each growing day—each new person, another burden to the middle class taxpayer, another reason to inflate the cost of living—and all the more reason to continue to terrorize the American people into its own division, hatred, demise, and consumption. e. My faith, however, was unwavering—God was real, but these abusive and toxic creatures were pushing it further away with violent arrogance, and the inability to understand that God itself was the nature they continued to destroy. Robin Bennett Fine. “My name's —ahem— “Ron Sennet, and I ain't In it.” —did the say “don't” write a book about me? It's Not about him… Or something cute he used to say like that, I couldn't remember, but he had a bunch of cute little idioms that matched his name, and to the day, I still missed him — it was 11:15 PM exactly as I hung up the phone, after an unsuccessful attempt to reach 911, after realizing that the threat outside was maddening enough to be impossible to only be in my head, and after weeks of the excruciating noise, I finally called NYPD dispatch, much to my disdain, and of course magically, the noise seemed to disappear, but these abusive and toxic creatures were pushing it further away with violent arrogance, and the inability to understand that God itself was the nature they continued to destroy. Robin Bennett Fine. “My name's Jon Sennet, and I ain't In it.” Or something cute he used to say like that, I couldn't remember, but he had a bunch of cute little idioms that matched his name, and to the day, I still missed him — it was 11:15 PM exactly as I hung up the phone, after an unsuccessful attempt to reach 911, after realizing that the threat outside was maddening enough to be impossible to only be in my head, and after weeks of the excruciating noise, I finally called NYPD dispatch, much to my disdain, and of course magically, the noise seemed to disappear as soon as I had made the call, which infuriated me. It seemed as though the game in entirety to make me look or feel crazy, though I knew I wasn't—well, I was, but not without purpose or reason. I had been theorizing in energy exchange quite decisively making a mark for my alter, at which I asked to be designated the wisdom and truth of the light within the eye, desire, however never in mind, although I had been summoned in part due to the fact that wenwere somehow alike—I was in some ways besides and out of sorts with my set, sinking my teeth into the forced obsession as I unraveled any possibilities and plotline. Episode 01. Pilot An opportunity presents itself seemingly at random— the protagonist's hand is forced into a life changing ultimatum, putting his reuputation and family in danger. Already involved in an illegal gambling ring which operates out of a secret historical prohibition era speakeasy and some “light” drug mulling within its walls, however often extending even as dangerously close to his workplace, Patrick is propositioned to become an investor in the high end escort service, with which he hired and contracted his lover, Kandi, a “rescue” whom he supports in her exchange for exclusivity, to remain as her only client, however, although he begrudgingly declines, wishing not to be involved in anything much more than what he has already kept under the radar, he is intimidated and threatened by blackmail, his high profile becoming at stake—he then obliges to embark upon this new endeavor, the expansion of this establishment to include a warehouse, which houses a large scale brothel, and, able to use his social status to procure wealthy clientele, quickly becomes a power player within a ring of coveted elites, setting fire to his already inflated ego, and colliding with his intense and highly functional polyaddiction, which he has maintained since his youth, using his entertainment persona as an outlet, becoming a medium of excess, fame, and rampant wealth. Patrick is beloved by his peers, and is humbled often by his devoted fans and friends—proactively worshipped as a comic genius, a prodigy, and a revered successor to legendary frontmen— Okay, this is weird, because I started writing this before I even understood what I was writing at all… —specifically, the sixth successor, to his coveted role. I had written for Esha to be the seventh successor, as with the symbolism deeply and quite literally woven into the sometimes brutal framework of the series, which I had shorthanded to ‘TVP'…the world around me trailed off as my eyes blurred as they had been lately, and I wondered if I might be having some kind of stroke or something, as I was certainly some sort of out of body—the day had been strange, and I had given up on a run or a gym for the day, the motorcycles alone ravaging my energy, and whether I worked out or not, they were everpresent anyway. They were some sort of toxic, abusive force I just had to put up with, hoping it didn't upset my psychology so much that it ended me, though I had become quite odd as of recently, rambling more than usual and actually praying out loud, as my silent ones just didn't seem to be working—they were probably white supremacists, or in some way connected to some political terror group, but it didn't seem to matter. Someone liked torturing me, and it was becoming apparent that no matter much time I spent at the gym, this torture was going to persist. After a month long gym streak, at least going once a day to lift something, I rested, or rather, tried to rest, kind of— but my mind had been swirling with thoughts of a man I was certain by now I had made up—and writing the story of a man I was absolutely certain came from my mind, but in a way that it almost made no sense at all—as the more I looked into the world that I had already written about, the more I realized was accurate without first having known these things, and however cursed I might have been to even know such things, I decided to call it some sort of blessing instead. ‘God, I used to get so fucking high for days, and when I would come down, just crying and crying, eating Totinos or DiJorno and a bag of Bugles, I would watch Saturday Night Live for fucking hours, and I hated [Redacted]. I hated him.' Now I still hated [Redacted], but in a different way, and though really it was myself that was more like Patrick, he at the very least, for whatever reason, used to have his face—now, he was just Patrick, and [Redacted] was just [Redacted], and i knew entirely too much about it all, and about myself to be comfortable with it, but nothing was comfortable at all. I had written entire atrocities, novels, and all that was some conglomerate of nonsense which was the festival project, besides how insanely and innately prodigal it all was sometimes, my own words confusing me with a bizzare and asenine dysfunction, awe, actually, often as if someone else had written them, and although I was always at least sort of semi-concious while writing, the spells and cadences I would fall under were some sort of trance, and as I watched the Nirvana rehearsal from Saturday Night Live in 1992, long before [Redacted] or any of the rest of the — Was it Keystone? It was, the Keystone cast of SNL, but the first word my mind had jumped to was Hallmark, which—after referencing Google quickly for a fact check, also stood true. I was willing to admit, even now, though I had long lost interest in Saturday Nighy Live, or anything at all having to do with current events, that the [Redacted] era—or rather even, the Tina Fey era, a true role model, perhaps, and someone I favored over all of the performers I admired, or allowed myself to admire— the Golden Years of Saturday Night were the only years, for me that even mattered— trying to make sense of anything couldn't be done, but I at least had this new project birthed from it to think about. It would be hard to sit down at a taping of The View and not think about all I had written at all, and it would be impossible not to unfold the characters which had presented themselves, though slowly but surely, through the most vivid visions and insanely lucid dreams, as The TV People began to What if someone steals this out of my documents? That would be unwise…the best scenes are somewhere scribbled in my notebooks and random scraps of paper somewhere in my room…this series is almost nothing without those scenes—the elements with which the most painful scenes I had ever written, became word form. ‘I don't know why, but I feel so incredibly high, So incredibly high right now…' They could have been words to a song, but I did feel high as a kite for whatever reason, without the actual kite metaphor quite literally dagling over my head, for once, or at least, it had been a few weeks, not a prominent as is was before. I sat soaking in the tub teetering on the possibility that I should actually even watch The Tonight Show, or whatever it was, to set my mind at ease, a betrayal of my own code—as one does not literally feed its obsessions into insanity on purpose. ‘Perhaps, though', I thought, ‘I could get rid of this.' — A cancerous abscess in the tradegy that had become my own sex fueled, rage driven, racing mind—and rather admittedly, it was almost too late, for anything of the sort, as I hadn't any other place to keep the growing world of The Television People any quieter, than within the monstrous algorithm which was Google documents cloud, where it seemed nothing was safe, and anything could be fabricated into reality after being stolen, by someone rich enough to make it happen, however, never being any better than my own disaster of a creation. And it was, a disaster. He was a comic genius, a professional, and spectacular performer— in actuality, I knew nothing if not anything at all about him, and the more I collected, the more interesting I found myself, actually, bemused that I seem to have found some sort of twin, another synchronizatic nightmare—if only that I made it to be so, unbelieving yet that I was in some kind of fairytale, though it had become some sort of fantastical and adventurous thing, this what I now refer to as ‘the allegories,'. I must have been something parasitic to the industry, with the tendency to latch on and ride out whatever had become a faciniation, but it wasn't, in its sense of origin, like anything before— it was something new, in the ways that it was, and something old at the same time—though needing to fall drastically from The Tower without actually doing so, putting a stop to my unlimited creation became a pertinent priority, as even exercising, meditating, and chronic masturbation tended to exacerbate it, as if I was missing a step in transmutation of this foreign substance— an energy which seemed familiar, but also wasn't. I was receiving downloads several hours at a time, and drifting off into spells and trances of inspiration so heavily that it seemed counterintuitive to call it off, fearing I might lose the intensity of the plot and its characters, and they were that: just characters. It had taken days to erase Patrick's face into a blank state to restore him from that of his namesake, but now everything was a blur, the allure of scrapping it all to return to making music was upon some sort of dawning, but not yet arrived. I allowed whatever came to mind to flow freely from my fingertips, even if it felt bizzare—and even if it felt bizarre, it never felt wrong at all. ‘Unfortunate, that.' , I thought crossing one leg over another to complete my chapter before draining the tub. I promised myself long ago to always pray for my own son, before worrying about another celebrity, whose fame and fortune protected them more than I ever seemed to protect myself or my own—nonsense, but a strong sense of remorse, as I had been painted as wicked, in a sense, just for being kept poor, separated from my son, and left in a world without love at all; My project, a keepsake of the hard work I had done; but had not yet been paid for—and the fear was in the understanding that that money might not ever come, that I would never be a mother, a muse, or anything or anyone else I actually wanted. I thought briefly again about just getting a dog—but I only had 45 dollars, aside from the unmarked Jimmy Fallons, I had placed atop an alter on my kitchen counter, wondering how to multiply them into something I wanted—and that had been the start of the game or the project at all— saving my last dollars and spending them at once, with the hopes and wishes that they would become somehow much larger quantities, returned as good karma for the love I had given, but that had not yet come back, in one form or another. ‘He seems miserable, the poor bloak.' , I thought—and with all that I had known to have come with fame and fortune along with the luck, he probably somewhere, somehow was—but my concern was my son, turning the mere dollars somehow from one's into bundles of hundreds, thousands, and maybe even one day a whole million or more. That was the push behind the project at all—breaking the cycle of the poor black single mother, the story that had been told over and over-/ with stories that had not; the stories that had become [The Festival Project™]# Sai Psy. See you in seven years, then. You're so silly— I'm not going to live seven more years. We'll see about that. You will see. I'll be dead. So I'll be dead. So it is. A summer hiatus, Vacations in Prague, yes Let's pray for the rest of us A sign of the times and a coming of ages Who made you famous again As the rest of us I don't like it As much as I'd like to Keep writing Keep finding the reason to die and you're blinded by kindnesses And I ams I woke up in the 9th dimension, As an infinite friend Familiar with my kitchen JOHN SLATTERY An interesting thing happened this morning. What's that, John? I woke up as John Slattery Just remember what love holds The death of a salesman, rechargeable batteries This walk could take forever in designer jeans Another day in slave hell The controllers controlling And Satan is Sataning Seems like a time to go clubbing It's a simple kind of depression Resting on your head when All you simply wished is the taste of flesh The freedom of skin And the lather of love— Or blood spatter on the pavement Aim for the head If the door's fixed, then we'll break it again Look what greed does I hate lazy days in Manhattan Cause I've never had one What happened on the way to the forum I was starstruck; Five finger death punch Right in the heart I wish I was punctual Right on time for lunch Don't you want to talk to someone more pungent? Don't you got models to robot? Don't you know I never want to hurt you But you know, I'm going to hurt you. You know I'm going to hurt you Now, the review: Sooner or later, I fall over your world Good dudes in drags Good food for thought I'm a dog With the wrong parts You should take Kanye to the mall With a migrants lanyard (The migrants are anarchists! Good one, God) This one goes to. | this one first, from— Which one are you ? I guess we are one in the same It's a famous radio tower Live up to your name Go sell your flower for flour As I stand at the jumping point Eye on Manhattan, The wind beneath my wings Distracting myself from the mansion I haven't The mason jars I ought to buy for bargain The brain and brain cereal I left at the market I used to love Brandy Now I just wish I was something, awesome Now I just wish I was something, awesome Now I just wish I was something, awesome “The Album I Wrote On My Way To The Rock To Return Amazon Purchases No Longer Wanted” That's a really long album title. I didn't imagine I'd write this much Just trying not to imagine this man in his under pants, Or what have you (I'm just a fan) I'm just a dad hunched over in the bathroom Must have been the magic of my backhand, backfired Must have come untied and undone, under the rainbow Must be on my way to Manhattan For some blacklist event. Where I'm from The A List Is a face No name needed “Oh, I know who you are” If I purchased a car today I might get done paying it off By my 81st birthday. Shady. If I had a penny for every mistake I made, I would probably be Nameless. If there was a namesake to lay me into my grave, it would make sense; Yes, let's move the train for a moment With the doors still open. — I'd like to watch what happens. So what happens when the sun comes up On the only body you've ever known And no one wants it What happens with a dude named Starr Punches you over and over again And then no one loves you (That's starstruck, your honor) What happens when granted a pardon for passions And everything happens after is magic What happens when all you want is to go manic To finish the album And just feel good again What happens when the algorithm has Al Gore in it? What happens when the rhythm in blues is just the attraction of random black men and their concubine counterparts? Huh, what happens! What happens, Kanye? What happens, The God? What happens when all that you want is a disgusting assumption of… No on can trust you And nobody loves you Since it was simply a tryst Put this at a distance. Where did my energy disappear to! Where in the fear is my other earring? Fuck. Be somewhere, anywhere else but your office, for the moment. Be anyone but a mother, Anywhere but your apartment— It hurts, the construction. Someone doesn't something Nobody knows nothing about me, But what I put in this casket (This podcast) Oh hey, I got fuck muscles from fuckin myself now! I feel like I'm gonna die if I don't have sex! For real! Heal, Oh great dragon, HEAL, BITCH. Word. woof for the world Will for the wolf; Rain on the roof. Cobain don't have a God (Or a Gun, if you wanted that one) “Pull me up, God, I'm done under here” He called in I followed the fosters to farrow And got better I got better and bitter much quicker and Never in bed had I been as flexible As to kiss his chest As I kicked my own neck With my left foot. What the fucking fairyshit is that? There, I fixed it. Fixed what. I don't know what. But I fixed it. I know, huh! So be 110 and flexible Powerlift tectonic plates Do Pilates And make waffles!? Alright, I can do that But only as Jennifer Aniston I'd like to take back that Fallon I bought at the black market He's broken. I like his band tho— The one on the left hand, Over the damaged one. Are you on to that? Says the sayer, Son of Sam So Sai the sage Sets the stage Is that the plan? Never fall for a man, Even over an alter And tied by the hands. All I see in my initials initially is B Minor 16 might be minors, guys But she's creaming to find you At the front lines Life of a superstar DJ At the cross roads Or the turnstiles How do you turn bile into Beguiling Without rifling a few feathers Or looking into the eye of the rifle And dying first Don't you let that tear fall from you onto the M Train. I'm just training for fame And hating you every day Since we made it Love Get out of my way, Satan I'm staying I'm saying your name sake insanely Please break me Like a chicken leg Or just shake me from this existence Since I don't seem fit for it Anymore than I fit that Givchechy dress you gave that blonde, right? Am I dying! Or just dying inside Fuck coughs If you want him enough to—Use black magic To do that to me, wait till it falls back on you, You gross hag If God hates fags as much as he hates blacks We should fly flags over the haggis I made Alice When she's back from her adventures in wonderland No wonder you're a Monro Crossed over from O'Fallons It's an old warfare with two clans From the old countries With no borders Or border collies Laboradores And labirites, likely As Aphrodite is to smite me So here comes DJ Francis With his new black girlfriend Just kidding We all know in his world It's cold and broken With nothing but blue eyes And big wild to look over you Bro, standing up is not going to make this train go anywhere. I almost promise you. Turns out there's no such thing as a quick trip to The Rock. Turns out you'll sit stuck in y

THIS OPPORTUNITY COMES ONCE IN A LIFETIME!! 8 Mile Full Movie Reaction Watch Along: https://www.patreon.com/thereelrejects  With Eminem reprising his Slim Shady persona on his new single, "Houdini," Aaron Alexander & John Humphrey give their First Time Reaction, Commentary, Breakdown, & Spoiler Review for the film staring Eminem aka Marshall Mathers as B-Rabbit, loosely based on his own life & directed by Curtis Hanson (L.A. Confidential, The Hand that Rocks the Cradle); Co-Starring Mekhi Phifer (Dawn of the Dead, ER), Brittany Murphy (Clueless, Sin City), Anthony Mackey (Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Avengers Endgame), Kim Basinger (Batman, The Nice Guys, Never Say Never Again), Michael Shannon (Revolutionary Road, The Shape of Water) + appearances from XZibit, Proof, Obie Trice, Njeri Earth, Brandon T. Jackson, & MORE! Aaron & John REACT To all the Best Scenes & Rap Battles including the Rabbit Battles Lil' Tic Scene, The Lunch Truck Scene, Rabbit Battles Papa Doc Scene, Cheddar Pulls a Gun Scene, Rabbit is Betrayed Scene, Rabbit Battles Lyckety-Splyt Scene, & Beyond!! Follow Aaron On Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/therealaaronalexander/?hl=en Support The Channel By Getting Some REEL REJECTS Apparel! https://www.rejectnationshop.com/ Music Used In Manscaped Ad:  Hat the Jazz by Twin Musicom is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 license. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ POWERED BY @GFUEL Visit https://gfuel.ly/3wD5Ygo and use code REJECTNATION for 20% off select tubs!! Head Editor: https://www.instagram.com/praperhq/?hl=en Co-Editor: Greg Alba Co-Editor: John Humphrey Music In Video: Airport Lounge - Disco Ultralounge by Kevin MacLeod is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 license. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ Ask Us A QUESTION On CAMEO: https://www.cameo.com/thereelrejects Follow TheReelRejects On FACEBOOK, TWITTER, & INSTAGRAM:  FB:  https://www.facebook.com/TheReelRejects/ INSTAGRAM:  https://www.instagram.com/reelrejects/ TWITTER:  https://twitter.com/thereelrejects Follow GREG ON INSTAGRAM & TWITTER: INSTAGRAM:  https://www.instagram.com/thegregalba/ TWITTER:  https://twitter.com/thegregalba Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

It's a CLASSIC FUN-BEAR-BANGER everyone! We got stories and tales and yarns! Brad goes to an ill-fated job fair, Ray calls out a dirty booker in Vegas, and Chuck impersonates Jason Statham and Jawas! After a debate about how progressive Marshall Mathers has been, Chuck follows his heart to Colorado where he's shockingly terrible at climbing rocks and gets an insane bout of altitude sickness. We close with a talk of the new movie "Imaginary" and we jump into the minds of the Jamboree. Scary! Video edit by Craig Depina @funbearable / funbearablepod.com #colorado #ldr #jobfair #podcast #friends #eminem

In "Wheelchair Dig," a dinner party, shout outs and a family trip to the record store. Amidst discussions on music finds, including Eminem and Taylor Swift covers, touching on the disappearance of People's Park, radio's outreach to marginalized communities, and the place of 'inspirational' content in disability culture. Canvas for hot sauce We had our neighbors over for dinner last night and we made pulled pork sandwiches and coleslaw. The kind of thing just perfect for hot sauce. All-KFJC Shouts Shout out to the sandman who wrote in for a fresh fish recommendation in the South Bay. So I gave up all my spots to him? Shout out to Jersey girl and Max level There's only one way Subscribe and get the selfie Wheelchair dig https://www.flickr.com/photos/caltex98/46968846481/ Amoeba Records Berkeley Went record shopping at Amoeba in my wheelchair with the family Finds https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X3_SPhBqG2w I found a 3cd set of Codona on ECM used / don cherry nana vasconcelos and collin wallcott. It's proto-'world music' https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z5KiSu1-2ko my son got eminem's "Marshall Mathers 2". he is having emotional problems, so I see why he is connecting with this. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2JgvVfOfoWI My wife and my daughter went in on the taylor swift covers cd taylor's version - electropop, powerful music - the frequencies are on blast, it peels your eyelids back and curls your eyelashes. plenty rizz, more drip than expected, pretty obvious why she's a spectacular pop star people's park is gone - three cops guarding the shipping containers blockading it - bad vibes Inspiration to who? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8K9Gg164Bsw Is There A Healthy Place For ‘Inspirational' In Disability Culture? Andrew Pulrang Disabled people have complicated relationships with a lot of words. But the one word other than “disability” itself disabled people feel most intensely about may be the word “inspirational.” Andrew Pulrang Broadcast Digging in the crates The radio and other broadcast media is egalitarian in the way it approaches disabled people and unpopular people. The voice on the radio is the companion that they have. Homeless people, weirdos, prisoners, anyone who tunes in can listen On that note, email me Digging in the crates Chapter List 00:00:00 - Intro 00:01:01 - We had our neighbors over 00:01:30 - Hoppin Hot Sauce Jingle 00:02:03 - Shout outs 00:02:10 - south bay fresh fish market recommendations 00:03:35 - Jersey girl and Max level 00:04:23 - subscribe and get the selfie 00:05:31 - record shopping at amoeba Berkeley with the family in my wheelchair 00:08:00 - i found codona trilogy on ecm 3cd set used 00:10:54 - my son got eminem 00:13:25 - taylor swift taylor's version cd 00:18:11 - people's park is gone 00:20:20 - being inspiring is a drag 00:24:25 - voice is on the radio 00:25:46 - outro People's ParkBerkeleyDisability cultureInspirationalAndrew AngElla YoungRadio broadcastingAmoeba Berkeley (record store)Hoppin Hot SauceRecord shoppingMultiple sclerosisTrigeminal neuralgiaEminemTaylor SwiftJazzHip hop

B. Cox and Domo review Eminem's sophomore album The Slim Shady LP as it turns 25. The now legendary emcee was just a little know upstart white rapper from Detroit when he clew up the underground scene by tearing through the '97 Rap Olympics. Despite losing in the finals, the word was out. After recording The Slim Shady EP, the tape made its way around the circuits and found its way on the desk of Dr. Dre, who promptly signed him and to Aftermath Records. The two clicked and got to work on his album.Overseen by Dre, who also produced a couple of tracks on the album, it served the world's introduction to Eminem and what would become his famous alter-ego -- Slim Shady. In this character and slipping in between his actual persona of Marshall Mathers, he juxtaposed his rhyming with clever wordplay and "rhyme bending" to create adequate rhyme scenes. Inside of those lyrics were rife with shocking one-liners, verses and songs: topics on everything from depression, dark humor, drug use, addiction, disdain for his daughter's mother and outlandish and controversial sayings that would become the hallmark of his early career. His rhyme style made him among the elite; his topics and subject matter made him vulnerable, controversial and hated all at the same time.The album was backed by three main singles -- the two most popular being "My Name Is..." and the Dr. Dre duet "Guilty Conscience". The album was a huge success, selling almost 7 million records and would be the beginning of him being the biggest music star in the game just four years later and the greatest selling rap artist of all time.Visit The Vault Classic Music Reviews Onlinewww.vaultclassicpod.comBuy Exclusive The Vault Podcast Merchandise!www.vaultclassicpod.com/storeSupport The Vault Classic Music Reviews on Buy Me A Coffeehttps://www.buymeacoffee.com/vaultclassicpodBuild Your Own Amazing Podcast Website In Less Than 5 Minutes!https://www.podpage.com/?via=ivecre8Show Notes"The Slim Shady LP" Eminem's Warning Shot at Hip-Hop https://www.udiscovermusic.com/stories/the-slim-shady-lp-eminem-album/The Ringer: Eminem has been America's Nightmare for 20 Yearshttps://www.theringer.com/music/2019/2/20/18232748/eminem-slim-shady-lp-20th-anniversaryAlbumism: Eminem's 'The Slim Shady LP' Turns 20 | Anniversary Retrospectivehttps://albumism.com/features/eminem-the-slim-shady-lp-turns-20-anniversary-retrospectiveSupport this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/the-vault-classic-music-reviews-podcast/donationsAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Join Ben & Billy for episode 1296! Tonight, we'll take a look at the latest chapter in the sad life of Marshall Mathers the 4th, a food review with KingCobraJFS, AND MORE! Follow the link and use code PEASANTS at checkout to get 20% off your order  https://bit.ly/3Na9Dec Last Night's Pre Show: https://the-drunken-peasants-podcast.simplecast.com/episodes Rent CLASSIC EPISODES from DP ON DEMAND for ONLY $2.99 each! Follow this link: https://vimeo.com/ondemand/drunkenpeasantsondemand Support our audio feed to get EXTRA content:  https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-drunken-peasants-podcast/id1013248653https://open.spotify.com/show/6eulbMV0APnJ5yNR8Jc3IMhttps://bit.ly/SticherDrunkenPeasants New PC Fundraiser: https://drunkenpeasants.betterworld.org/campaigns/help-drunken-peasants-get-new-co Streamlabs Link: https://streamlabs.com/drunkenpeasants/tip *Google Calendar* https://calendar.google.com/calendar/embed?src=sund2qrenq20a2d5802cpp9i6k%40group.calendar.google.com&ctz=America%2FLos_Angeles*iCal* https://calendar.google.com/calendar/ical/sund2qrenq20a2d5802cpp9i6k%40group.calendar.google.com/public/basic.icsIntegrate into your Calendar: http://bit.ly/DPTAPCalendar SUPPORT US:  https://patreon.com/DPhttps://bit.ly/BraveAppDPhttps://bit.ly/BenBillyMerchhttps://streamlabs.com/drunkenpeasantshttps://youtube.com/DrunkenPeasants/joinhttps://subscribestar.com/DrunkenPeasantsPODSURVEY: https://podsurvey.com/peasants SOCIAL MEDIA:https://discord.gg/2fnWTbEhttps://fb.com/DrunkenPeasantshttps://twitch.tv/DrunkenPeasantshttps://twitter.com/DrunkenPeasantshttps://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-drunken-peasants-podcast/id1013248653https://open.spotify.com/show/6eulbMV0APnJ5yNR8Jc3IMhttps://bit.ly/SticherDrunkenPeasantshttps://bit.ly/DPUndergroundhttp://bit.ly/DPTAPCalendar BEN:  https://bit.ly/BenpaiYT BILLY THE FRIDGE:  https://youtube.com/Overweighthttps://twitter.com/BillyTheFridgehttps://instagram.com/BillyTheFridge PO BOX:The Drunken Peasants1100 Bellevue Way NESte 8A # 422Bellevue, WA 98004Be sure to put the name on the package you send as "The Drunken Peasants". If you would like to send something to a certain peasant, include a note inside the package with what goes to who. SPECIAL THANKS:https://twitter.com/GFIX_https://twitter.com/SYNJE_Grafxhttps://twitter.com/MarshalMansonhttps://berserkyd.bandcamp.comhttps://youtube.com/channel/UC9BV1g_9Iq67_yCyj5AX_4Q Pensive Piano by Audionautix is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 license. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ Artist: http://audionautix.com/ DISCLAIMER:The views and opinions expressed on our show by hosts, guests, or viewers, are their own and do not necessarily reflect those of Drunken Peasants. 

All's rosy in the world of Leeds United, and we bask in the glory of victories six and seven on the bounce at Elland Road. Date nights, new hair do's, and peerless performances aplenty, there's lots to get stuck into during the long wait for Blackburn away. Podcast Sponsored by www.bassandbligh.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The best-selling hip-hop artist of all time (aka Slim Shady, Marshall Mathers, Em, The GOAT...) gets the full service Cranked & Ranked treatment.

Join Ben & Shabisky for DP 1243! Tonight,  we'll take a look at Megyn Kelly's interview with Trump, the return of Marshall Mathers the 4th, AND MORE! Round 3 https://www.patreon.com/posts/89389857?pr=true Follow the link and use code PEASANTS at checkout to get 20% off your order  Use SUBSCRIBEDP for 30% off your subscription order.https://bit.ly/3Na9Dec Last Night's Pre Show: https://the-drunken-peasants-podcast.simplecast.com/episodes Rent CLASSIC EPISODES from DP ON DEMAND for ONLY $2.99 each! Follow this link: https://vimeo.com/ondemand/drunkenpeasantsondemand Support our audio feed to get EXTRA content:  https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-drunken-peasants-podcast/id1013248653https://open.spotify.com/show/6eulbMV0APnJ5yNR8Jc3IMhttps://bit.ly/SticherDrunkenPeasants New PC Fundraiser: https://drunkenpeasants.betterworld.org/campaigns/help-drunken-peasants-get-new-co Streamlabs Link: https://streamlabs.com/drunkenpeasants/tip *Google Calendar* https://calendar.google.com/calendar/embed?src=sund2qrenq20a2d5802cpp9i6k%40group.calendar.google.com&ctz=America%2FLos_Angeles*iCal* https://calendar.google.com/calendar/ical/sund2qrenq20a2d5802cpp9i6k%40group.calendar.google.com/public/basic.icsIntegrate into your Calendar: http://bit.ly/DPTAPCalendar SUPPORT US:  https://patreon.com/DPhttps://bit.ly/BraveAppDPhttps://bit.ly/BenBillyMerchhttps://streamlabs.com/drunkenpeasantshttps://youtube.com/DrunkenPeasants/joinhttps://subscribestar.com/DrunkenPeasantsPODSURVEY: https://podsurvey.com/peasants SOCIAL MEDIA:https://discord.gg/2fnWTbEhttps://fb.com/DrunkenPeasantshttps://twitch.tv/DrunkenPeasantshttps://twitter.com/DrunkenPeasantshttps://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-drunken-peasants-podcast/id1013248653https://open.spotify.com/show/6eulbMV0APnJ5yNR8Jc3IMhttps://bit.ly/SticherDrunkenPeasantshttps://bit.ly/DPUndergroundhttp://bit.ly/DPTAPCalendar BEN:  https://bit.ly/BenpaiYT BILLY THE FRIDGE:  https://youtube.com/Overweighthttps://twitter.com/BillyTheFridgehttps://instagram.com/BillyTheFridge PO BOX:The Drunken Peasants1100 Bellevue Way NESte 8A # 422Bellevue, WA 98004Be sure to put the name on the package you send as "The Drunken Peasants". If you would like to send something to a certain peasant, include a note inside the package with what goes to who. SPECIAL THANKS:https://twitter.com/GFIX_https://twitter.com/SYNJE_Grafxhttps://twitter.com/MarshalMansonhttps://berserkyd.bandcamp.comhttps://youtube.com/channel/UC9BV1g_9Iq67_yCyj5AX_4Q Pensive Piano by Audionautix is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 license. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ Artist: http://audionautix.com/ DISCLAIMER:The views and opinions expressed on our show by hosts, guests, or viewers, are their own and do not necessarily reflect those of Drunken Peasants.

12 - Dom kicks off the week with Democrat media spins on issues like Bidenomics and the Hunter Biden scandal. Dom gives his instant reaction on some insane clips.  1210 - Vivek Ramaswamay or Eminem? The Midwest respects the gaul to perform Marshall Mathers. 1220 -  The more information we find out about Trump during these indictments, the more it can clear his name among voters. Dom doesn't see it in the cards for DeSantis even if Trump isn't the nominee, so he needs a killer debate to get back into the race. 1235 - Andy McCarthy joins the program to discuss the Hunter Biden case and his reaction over the special counsel being assigned to his case. Andy gives intricate details of the case and how he thinks it could be over. They then move to the topic of indictment, how these people charging him know they cannot use the fanfare of January 6th to charge him, but they will use any other infraction to try and get retribution for that day.  1250 - The Inquirer writes a piece over the legacy of Mayor Jim Kenney. Dom deep dives into this piece as the language is very specific, trying to prop him up as the guy who can get southeastern PA to vote blue in the next Presidential election. People are going to want to listen to the guy that quit on the city?

12 - Dom kicks off the week with Democrat media spins on issues like Bidenomics and the Hunter Biden scandal. Dom gives his instant reaction on some insane clips.  1210 - Vivek Ramaswamay or Eminem? The Midwest respects the gaul to perform Marshall Mathers. 1220 -  The more information we find out about Trump during these indictments, the more it can clear his name among voters. Dom doesn't see it in the cards for DeSantis even if Trump isn't the nominee, so he needs a killer debate to get back into the race. 1235 - Andy McCarthy joins the program to discuss the Hunter Biden case and his reaction over the special counsel being assigned to his case. Andy gives intricate details of the case and how he thinks it could be over. They then move to the topic of indictment, how these people charging him know they cannot use the fanfare of January 6th to charge him, but they will use any other infraction to try and get retribution for that day.  1250 - The Inquirer writes a piece over the legacy of Mayor Jim Kenney. Dom deep dives into this piece as the language is very specific, trying to prop him up as the guy who can get southeastern PA to vote blue in the next Presidential election. People are going to want to listen to the guy that quit on the city? 1 - From Wildwoods Tourism it's Ben Rose here to discuss the summer tourism recap and what is to come. In terms of a successful summer, you can always tell it was when you're still packing the town with people for various events three weeks into September. Any plans for the holiday season? No, how about the Wildwoods? And what is in the near future? 110 - James Harden is in the news for bashing Sixers President of Basketball Operations Daryl Morey. Dom gives an angle on the Harden holdout situation that no sports media outlet will say today.  115 - Let's break down what Ron Johnson has to say when prompted about Ivermectin. 120 - A parent is being prosecuted in New Jersey for wanting to know what's going on in their child's school. Dom details teachers now whiting-out students' names on tests to indicate that parents do not need to use the name their child uses at school. Look at the bravery shown by Riley Gaines by speaking out in the face of adversity. 130 - Dom moves back to prohibiting biological boys from competing in girls' sports. Dom goes through a new proposal that would limit sports to designated sex, get back to policing violence and drugs among the youth, and more. 140 - South Carolina Congresswoman Nancy Mace joins the program to discuss the lack of indictments around the Bidens, the lack of transparency when it comes to taxpayer spending by those in power, the abortion discussion within the GOP, and other issues that plague society today 155 - Some teasers. 2 - Krasnerland runs rampant this Monday as Dom gives crime reports from today and over the weekend. A judge has ruled cameras will be allowed in the courtroom for Trump, leading Dom to believe he will be indicted in Georgia by tomorrow. In light of this, will DeSantis be pressured by other candidates during the debate as he is the likely number 2 candidate? 215 - Dom's Money Melody 220 - Dom returns to discuss more side question answers, beached whales in New Jersey, and three school boards in New Jersey facing off with Phil Murphy over policies they do not see fit in academic life.  235 - Dom takes your calls, One caller discusses his fight against the wind turbines and update on a third beached whale from this weekend.  250 - Lightning round! 

In this episode Kxng Crooked had the opportunity to sit down with one of the G.O.A.T. Marshall Mathers profesionally known as Eminem. Enjoy and remember to subscribe and leave a comment.

Grab your mom's spaghetti and get ready, we're heading to the 313 to talk the 'not a biopic' biopic of Marshall Mathers, 8 Mile. This 2002 musical drama was heavily influenced by the rappers career and sees Eminem take the leading role. In an era that saw the rise in mainstream popularity of rap battles, 8 Mile was the forerunner. We breakdown its popularity, its approach to storytelling, the poor ways it has aged, and much more in this week's show. So, join us at the analysis table as we walk through 8 Mile.  TIMESTAMPS 00:30 - Introductions and Synopsis 04:16 - Quick 8 Mile Reviews 18:45 - Expanding the Syllabus 28:06 - Analysis 43:32 - Shelf or Trash 45:30 - Wrap Up and Next Week's Film

This week we welcome director and writer Christopher Carter Sanderson. He discusses his Shakespeare roots, his online film versions of “Hamlet” and “Macbeth”. He also talks about his crusade to convince Marshall Mathers to play Iago in “Othello”. Join our Patreon here and support the show.  https://www.patreon.com/LE2B

Listen as Paul Rosenberg takes an in depth look at the hits, art and albums that make up the legendary musical library of Eminem as told through first-hand experiences by the participants and collaborators on these celebrated projects.  It's a 7-part series exclusively released in celebration for Curtain Call 2.

Listen as Paul Rosenberg takes an in depth look at the hits, art and albums that make up the legendary musical library of Eminem as told through first-hand experiences by the participants and collaborators on these celebrated projects.  It's a 7-part series exclusively released in celebration for Curtain Call 2.

How deep is Vinnie's knowledge of Marshall Mathers?

Forget Apple Jacks and Frosted Flakes (tho, seems yummy!) I talk to the Notorious J-A-Y about a TikTok favorite mashup song that took me quite some time to hunt down. We also talk Kliff Kingsbury's yearly late season swoons, why you should never use MLK day to prove you aren't racist, plus the Manningcast, The Grobber, and more. Plus, FTG!Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy