Podcast appearances and mentions of Seth Meyers

CARL COX curses BLŨ out in an extreme show of brilliantly vile COCKNEY FASHION. CARL COX [unintelligible cockney] BLŪ I have no idea what you just said, or why you're yelling at me! CARL COX (Sarcastically) Well how's this—? “Ello, poppet!” In THE DJ storyline )which is technically storyline a, we've just discovered DJ DILLON FRANCIS used BLU — (originally CC) as a sort of horcrux for his darkest magical intentions. Now the DJS are in a rush to extract this device before time runs out. Wtf did Dillon Francis do? YO HE LITERALLY MADE HER INTO A POPPIT. What the fuck is a poppit. It's like a little fuckin— thing— witches use to store magical energy and when the spell is over you're supposed to destroy them— but he DIDNT and it came to life and it merged with CC! Yooooooo! Who is now blu Tha Gürū, because Chak Chel dissappeared— or sort of dissappeared— to aide in the magical assasination of Let me guess— No don't guess, you could ruin it. What. Don't literally ruin it. The show exists in a multiversial construct which means anything you say, or think, or guess could unintentionally alter the plot, and skew it into an array of infinitely possible dimensions! Oh no! But I already thought! Shh! No you didn't! Just replace those thoughts— with better ones z— I don't have any better thoughts! Well, make some up. Uh— ok! Shh, it's coming back on this is where it gets intense. I thought you've never seen this before I know! But I know it gets intense! Well, how do you know that?! BECAUSE I KNOW THAT ALREADY. {Enter The Multiverse} ENTER THE MULTIVERSE is getting intense. BLŪ WHAT. NO ITS NOT! I can't take it I just can't take it I just can't take it no more I just can't n THE SKY IS FALLING! WHY?' I don't know. Seems pretty intense though, doesn't it. FUCK YOUUUUUU DEADMAU55555555! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!! I am DEADMAU— *powers down* Ah, fuck. KATT WILLIAMS is coaching the NBC GAMES. KATT WILLIAMS Alright, b-ball time! Shirts! Versus skins! you can be skins, Jimmy Fallon. *winks* Ew. She's so fucking gross. I don't get it. Uh— what? No I can't. I'm wearing a suit. I'm sure it's fused to my skin, or something. (This is actually the VICE AGENT version of the dude, who is wired head to toe. If he takes his shirt off, it will blow his cover.) SKINS. Fuck. L E G E N D S HE DUPED YOU! I BELIEVE THAT! He's good at everything! Especially things like that! WE'LL KILL HIM! NO ONE CAN KILL HIM. HE IS IMMORTAL. –doesn't mean we can't try. *dramatic music* [beat] WHAT?! I SAID– I CAN'T HEAR YOU, THERE'S A HELLICOPTER LEVITATING DIRECTLY OVER US! I KNOW! THAT'S WHY I WAS YELLING TOO, IT'S JUST– [Suddenly they realize, it is the he of who they speak hovering in the helicopter.] *GASP* DOn'T. {it's too late. He unloads a clip from an automatic rifle] THOSE ARE BANNED IN EUROPE. YOU COULD HAVE FOOLED ME! I KNOW I COULD HAVE! BECAUSE YOU ARE QUITE OBVIOUSLY EASILY FOOLED! ENOUGH. The helicopter scoops down and unrolls a ladder. W–wait! ARE YOU GETTING IN THE HELLICOPTER WITH HIM?! (dramatically) It appears so. WHAT. YES! YES I AM GETTING INTO THE HELLICOPTER. ARE YOU GONNA SHOOT AT ME *confused* *shurgs* (he gives up) ..of course not. Well then, I believe it is YOU that has been duped. WHAT!??!? GOOD DAY, SIR. Lil Bitz They really nominated Stephen Colbert for an Emmy, and then fired him the next day. What on Earth. What did you do at the party, bro? Be honest! They literally we're like, Wednesday: You're nominated for an Emmy award! Thursday: You're cancelled! Cancelled, bro. How do you cancel the late show? That was David Letterman. The whole point of a show like that is so it goes on forever! Nope, cancelled! Daaaamn. You better win that Emmy now, bruh. {Enter The Multiverse} HOW THE FUCK DID WAYNE BRADY GET IN HERE! I dont know how Wayne Brady got in here! Keep an eye on him. I heard he's polyscientific in his sexual proclivities. Oh. Okay then. L E G E N D S CARL COX curses BLŨ out in an extreme show of brilliantly vile COCKNEY FASHION. CARL COX [unintelligible cockney] BLŪ I have no idea what you just said, or why you're yelling at me! CARL COX (Sarcastically) Well how's this—? “Ello, poppet!” In THE DJ storyline )which is technically storyline a, we've just discovered DJ DILLON FRANCIS used BLU — (originally CC) as a sort of horcrux for his darkest magical intentions. Now the DJS are in a rush to extract this device before time runs out. Wtf did Dillon Francis do? YO HE LITERALLY MADE HER INTO A POPPIT. What the fuck is a poppit. It's like a little fuckin— thing— witches use to store magical energy and when the spell is over you're supposed to destroy them— but he DIDNT and it came to life and it merged with CC! Yooooooo! Who is now Blū Tha Gürū, because Chak Chel disappeared— or sort of disappeared— to aide in the magical assasination of Let me guess— No don't guess, you could ruin it. What. Don't literally ruin it. The show exists in a multiversial construct which means anything you say, or think, or guess could unintentionally alter the plot, and skew it into an array of infinitely possible dimensions! Oh no! But I already thought! Shh! No you didn't! Just replace those thoughts— with better ones z— I don't have any better thoughts! Well, make some up! Uh— ok! Shh, it's coming back on: this is where it gets intense. I thought you've never seen this before I know! But I know it gets intense! Well, how do you know that?! BECAUSE I KNOW THAT ALREADY. {Enter The Multiverse} ENTER THE MULTIVERSE is getting intense. BLŪ WHAT. NO ITS NOT! I can't take it I just can't take it I just can't take it no more I just can't n THE SKY IS FALLING! WHY?' I don't know. Seems pretty intense though, doesn't it. FUCK YOUUUUUU DEADMAU55555555! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!! I am DEADMAU— *powers down* Ah, fuck. {Enter The Multiverse} ICONS KATT WILLIAMS is coaching the NBC GAMES. KATT WILLIAMS Alright, b-ball time! Shirts! Versus skins! …you can be skins, Jimmy Fallon. *winks* Ew. She's so fucking gross. I don't get it. Uh— what? No I can't. I'm wearing a suit. I'm sure it's fused to my skin, or something. (This is actually the VICE AGENT version of the dude, who is wired head to toe. If he takes his shirt off, it will blow his cover.) SKINS. Fuck. L E G E N D S HE DUPED YOU! I BELIEVE THAT! He's good at everything! Especially things like that! WE'LL KILL HIM! NO ONE CAN KILL HIM. HE IS IMMORTAL. –doesn't mean we can't try. *dramatic music* [beat] WHAT?! I SAID– I CAN'T HEAR YOU, THERE'S A HELLICOPTER LEVITATING DIRECTLY OVER US! I KNOW! THAT'S WHY I WAS YELLING TOO, IT'S JUST– [Suddenly they realize, it is the he of who they speak hovering in the helicopter.] *GASP* DOn'T. {it's too late. He unloads a clip from an automatic rifle] THOSE ARE BANNED IN EUROPE. YOU COULD HAVE FOOLED ME! I KNOW I COULD HAVE! BECAUSE YOU ARE QUITE OBVIOUSLY EASILY FOOLED! ENOUGH. The helicopter scoops down and unrolls a ladder. W–wait! ARE YOU GETTING IN THE HELLICOPTER WITH HIM?! (dramatically) It appears so. WHAT. YES! YES I AM GETTING INTO THE HELLICOPTER. ARE YOU GONNA SHOOT AT ME? *confused* *shurgs* (he gives up) ..of course not. Well then, I believe it is YOU that has been duped. WHAT!??!? GOOD DAY, SIR. Lil Bitz They really nominated Stephen Colbert for an Emmy, and then fired him the next day. What on Earth. What did you do at the party, bro? Be honest! They literally we're like, Wednesday: You're nominated for an Emmy award! Thursday: You're cancelled! Cancelled, bro. How do you cancel the late show? That was David Letterman. The whole point of a show like that is so it goes on forever! Nope, cancelled! Daaaamn. You better win that Emmy now, bruh. {Enter The Multiverse} Look at the pale ass people who can afford this place— I'm probably not even allowed there With much dishonor and bad distaste- You'd better stop coming around there If I spend my time out buying your price Mercy to the highest bidder You can call me anything you'd like But just don't call me a quitter If it's talk you want, I've got all the words For a stake, I'll buy you dinner In my house of hands, I've got all nine cards Hey Mary, your husband's a sinner I play all nine holes I lived all nine lives I spend all night In the The Panorama Room Smoke a parliament, parliament I just haven't the heart (The heart) To tell her You were part of it (Part of it) But I just sat down To write my love a letter When you know it's over (You know it's over) But you know you can't Forget her When you know it's over (You know it's over) But you also know That you just can't Forgive her And I just sat down And I just sat down And I just sat down To write my love a letter I write all my best lines In The Panorama Room And I'm back on prime time tonight But it's just lights out If I get back now I just might be up by noon But if I pass out In the town car I went that far As to turn back out For an hour, or a barback Oh wow, I — Look at the time Have a long night out I just lost my life At The Panorama Room It wasn't exactly the phantom But it just might have been Patrick And just like that, I need a back rub And a ballroom gown And an hour of heart talk But I just don't want all that, God I just gotta keep talking Outback from one But what's after all out? I'm no longer lost, I just wanna know How far till the next exit? When's wind a kite to fall back on? How many faxes till it makes sense? Cause it ain't been ten days yet, But I faked maybe seven or eight It is dangerous! A high stakes game, nothing makes sense Till just the end, then it hates to— Just rolls over, the next day raises And all you know is a tunnel And the smoke rising up from the long tail And really no hope goes there at all, But the words to a song And then they cut the lights off It is over; You don't know her, You can't love her— You can't move here, And there's no home sprung out of Hollywood; It was all a hoax, It was all just marxists, And now you really all are on your last dollar to spend, because in the end, truth is currency and we inTelevision really ain't in the business of truth in media; The honesty is honestly just as lost as you and I all are and yet— as proposed, We really are not as one, but so separate that it's possible, your stardust, and my horcruxes Are not that foreign to one another in terms of matter, but fall on us as gospels of one world to a whole other. You know that? It really has been a long drunk drive up the 101 in this classic car with the bucket seats and honest, I'm dying in the intertwined and reading these radio waves just as any old controller, but who knows really when it goes into the ocean, Seemingly out of control, But just turns back to shore, Such as a surfboard. — Seth Rogen. No, no dust— keep moving— It's just sandy beaches and trouble warring No, not now, keep off us— If trouble waves and shadows park this car, A storm is coming. And we were off to shore in the blue classic car, U-turned into her shore like a surfboard on the water. Don't ever do that again. I won't bother. You said “off road.” I didn't know that meant ocean. No, it doesn't go in the ocean. I spoke too soon. {Enter The Multiverse} Do you want me to die, Or bury your love like a secret ther I betray you, And portray you here in such a way as are kings and god, but of ruthless man, you are no honor or, or— worthy of such prize, as I, you ponder? Death seeks you and slowly surely is approaching and is as upon us the dog that barks and the wind that calls and the kiss that waits not as dusk but morning light, and do our calls upon us. And wait you then, these things I have here in my gate, and the knowing of the tide that does not moon, put sorrow? Like a lake it is thus ruined and by my time passed and even ye you, there hath it been not told, as told before the earth will shake with envy, and with pity, and with bore her such pride as slain thy son?! No! You do not any but gasp in these, my words as so you wore but tattered clothes as truths to these, no in mine wealth of heart and rich of soul, yet these bearing little truths have sown our end I wait Here slithers here the snake for singing crickets followed thy sound and thy voice to betray you; And thee I harp as though not to wait my tongue, my pride has pondered on this moment. O, I know and shall to thee my praying the honor of know not I that seek in weighing many days upon us; And though ye as many embark in flight and make my way and wonder where is but here the road to such a comet. Oh shit, he's asking about the other planet. Thank you. Yeah I— There's absolutely no chance in making it. It, by all standard and concept in the construct of time, is not possible. Your kind will be washed and diminished, and our time has come to again rule over our, to she whom you call “Earth”, not as our home, but as our daughter. You have known wise to honor her, our coming. Like omg what the fuck does this have to do with Jimmy Fallon. right. L E G E N D S: ICONS I guess it came through. Yeah, you're right. Yeah. CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR EMMY. Uhh… Thanks? I uh— we didn't win yet. Not with that attitude. Huh. Look at that. I guess you're right! [beat] —but wait, who are you up against? [The Festival Project ™] This is intense. Yeah, I'll say it is… We gotta get to the other side of that portal. I don't think we should be making any— — we should go through the portal—! —plans very seriously— and honestly I'm thinking— Or maybe— you stay here, and I'll go through the portal, and you tell me if you can hear anything once I make it to the other side! I don't know if that…works. What? Why not dude? It'll be great— Cause I don't know anything about portals, and honestly— —I'm thinking— I just want to make it past the Emmy's so I can get laid again—like really laid— I've been… paying… for it. —you want to skip going through a portal so you can get laid? By a decent— and by decent I mean free— lady who just happens to be single and in attendance of the Emmy's or any of the after parties— yes, actually! Yes! No! We have to go through this portal to see what's actually on the other side! I don't have to do anything! No, you don't have to do anything— because I'm going through the portal, and you're just—staying and making sure you tell me if you can hear me! I don't think it's that easy actually! But you don't know until you try. I'm not trying. You're trying. And I'm letting you because you're pressuring me! Shut up. You're starting to sound like one of my interns. If I was one of your interns I would be quitting, and hash tagging you already. If you were one of my interns you wouldn't be paying for company. What's that supposed to mean? Just—- {Enter the multiverse} Stop. What if all whores are just bored workers And all escorts personal massagers— What if all message boards are mating calls And all honor rolls are leader boards, And all board rooms are horse drawn carriages For faraway battlefields, What if nothing I offer even comes close To the dollar value of your most cherished call girl And what if anything I know about her Doesn't conform to my idea of a comfort zone? What if the anxiety you're eyeing me and getting high behind me with is just designed to bind my mind enlightening the lightning strike dividing my entirety? What if I want to know you know my known worth without words or surfaces? What if all I don't know is all of my whole world, And just the dollop of a thought could push you off the wall to fall from the top of the Rockerfeller plaza into art upon the crosswalk? What if I could touch that cross, and walk with the palm of the sword stretched out like a… What were you saying? I don't know something about the handle of a sword turning into another object? What if I could hypothesis not one, but all the conundrums in one stroke of nonsense? Stop already? For what. I was told I could have been bought and sold Had I dressed the part To drive off in the pretty corvette But how dare I not Look just as hard earned As her for dollar signs Although Somebody bought her all of that? What if all you are is just bullets in the gun And a wound for my brain And a heart to heal Without home or a umbrella As the rain comes down so hard It sends whole homes floating? What if all the remarks in my smart ass couldn't call you up in the form of laughter? How about that one? How does your back ache? How was your hour glass. Much much Longer And Harder Than An hour. How I broke my spell? I just shook her hands. I just put my tail In between my legs And departure Marks the time of Our new travel archive But With just the dust of lust From dusk till dawn The one you wanted Climbs upon the forest In another song Or story What you— One, Two, Three dice— The riddle Four, five, Six mice, the honor Six, seven— Someone's disrespected; Lessons! Eight, nine— Oh my, Someone's right behind us. Nor can I stop writing or whining about my desires, and deadlines coming up and signing off, but I'm still crying. So I never sold my sole, And yet, The light from it was stolen; Slamming doors and hard earned apartments, Multipliers and real bad liars And one liners And one sells signed autographed autobiographies Now how about that for a rabbit hole, Seth Meyers? You should work harder on your crossovers Then again, the rule of thumb is to just Put them all on the old drum code And it's just no fun If it's not on suicide watch Don't bother I don't brother, But I learned to love her. You know? Silly little game, this inconsiderate confusion, wind washed galleyways and fisherman to put you under, Degrading you very awaking for the patrons, faking it— No things haven't made sense since you ate it With which way Is the birthday cake? Mistakes the Ace as Satan Lately, anything don't matter but that's a laugh Still no dollar though, no Don't call her out— she just wants courage And witness to slaughter Hers the very lamb of truth And mother's daughter. Put your art to work, This is not a war, it's a fairway And it and your worth, It's a fair game It ain't make sense Till you get 8-6 out a bar that you own Under A. An Alias, B. Under the Name of an Accomplice or otherwise trustworthy partner to which not you call love, but perhaps a co-owner. (Or co-author.) Remember the time now? A shit. I gotta run. Where to? I don't know yet. Grey suit. The whispers of a game Blue tie White stripes Red lips, One aim and he doesn't think twice One name and he doesn't give once Two trips to the hallway, One gun in the holster, One bullet in the chamber, And one number you thought of. Four? …yes. I've got a secret, a dirty little secret. The Rock and The Kite XI {Enter The Multiverse} Copyright The Collective Complex © [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] © 2025 All Rights Reserved -Ū.

CARL COX curses BLŨ out in an extreme show of brilliantly vile COCKNEY FASHION. CARL COX [unintelligible cockney] BLŪ I have no idea what you just said, or why you're yelling at me! CARL COX (Sarcastically) Well how's this—? “Ello, poppet!” In THE DJ storyline )which is technically storyline a, we've just discovered DJ DILLON FRANCIS used BLU — (originally CC) as a sort of horcrux for his darkest magical intentions. Now the DJS are in a rush to extract this device before time runs out. Wtf did Dillon Francis do? YO HE LITERALLY MADE HER INTO A POPPIT. What the fuck is a poppit. It's like a little fuckin— thing— witches use to store magical energy and when the spell is over you're supposed to destroy them— but he DIDNT and it came to life and it merged with CC! Yooooooo! Who is now blu Tha Gürū, because Chak Chel dissappeared— or sort of dissappeared— to aide in the magical assasination of Let me guess— No don't guess, you could ruin it. What. Don't literally ruin it. The show exists in a multiversial construct which means anything you say, or think, or guess could unintentionally alter the plot, and skew it into an array of infinitely possible dimensions! Oh no! But I already thought! Shh! No you didn't! Just replace those thoughts— with better ones z— I don't have any better thoughts! Well, make some up. Uh— ok! Shh, it's coming back on this is where it gets intense. I thought you've never seen this before I know! But I know it gets intense! Well, how do you know that?! BECAUSE I KNOW THAT ALREADY. {Enter The Multiverse} ENTER THE MULTIVERSE is getting intense. BLŪ WHAT. NO ITS NOT! I can't take it I just can't take it I just can't take it no more I just can't n THE SKY IS FALLING! WHY?' I don't know. Seems pretty intense though, doesn't it. FUCK YOUUUUUU DEADMAU55555555! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!! I am DEADMAU— *powers down* Ah, fuck. KATT WILLIAMS is coaching the NBC GAMES. KATT WILLIAMS Alright, b-ball time! Shirts! Versus skins! you can be skins, Jimmy Fallon. *winks* Ew. She's so fucking gross. I don't get it. Uh— what? No I can't. I'm wearing a suit. I'm sure it's fused to my skin, or something. (This is actually the VICE AGENT version of the dude, who is wired head to toe. If he takes his shirt off, it will blow his cover.) SKINS. Fuck. L E G E N D S HE DUPED YOU! I BELIEVE THAT! He's good at everything! Especially things like that! WE'LL KILL HIM! NO ONE CAN KILL HIM. HE IS IMMORTAL. –doesn't mean we can't try. *dramatic music* [beat] WHAT?! I SAID– I CAN'T HEAR YOU, THERE'S A HELLICOPTER LEVITATING DIRECTLY OVER US! I KNOW! THAT'S WHY I WAS YELLING TOO, IT'S JUST– [Suddenly they realize, it is the he of who they speak hovering in the helicopter.] *GASP* DOn'T. {it's too late. He unloads a clip from an automatic rifle] THOSE ARE BANNED IN EUROPE. YOU COULD HAVE FOOLED ME! I KNOW I COULD HAVE! BECAUSE YOU ARE QUITE OBVIOUSLY EASILY FOOLED! ENOUGH. The helicopter scoops down and unrolls a ladder. W–wait! ARE YOU GETTING IN THE HELLICOPTER WITH HIM?! (dramatically) It appears so. WHAT. YES! YES I AM GETTING INTO THE HELLICOPTER. ARE YOU GONNA SHOOT AT ME *confused* *shurgs* (he gives up) ..of course not. Well then, I believe it is YOU that has been duped. WHAT!??!? GOOD DAY, SIR. Lil Bitz They really nominated Stephen Colbert for an Emmy, and then fired him the next day. What on Earth. What did you do at the party, bro? Be honest! They literally we're like, Wednesday: You're nominated for an Emmy award! Thursday: You're cancelled! Cancelled, bro. How do you cancel the late show? That was David Letterman. The whole point of a show like that is so it goes on forever! Nope, cancelled! Daaaamn. You better win that Emmy now, bruh. {Enter The Multiverse} HOW THE FUCK DID WAYNE BRADY GET IN HERE! I dont know how Wayne Brady got in here! Keep an eye on him. I heard he's polyscientific in his sexual proclivities. Oh. Okay then. L E G E N D S CARL COX curses BLŨ out in an extreme show of brilliantly vile COCKNEY FASHION. CARL COX [unintelligible cockney] BLŪ I have no idea what you just said, or why you're yelling at me! CARL COX (Sarcastically) Well how's this—? “Ello, poppet!” In THE DJ storyline )which is technically storyline a, we've just discovered DJ DILLON FRANCIS used BLU — (originally CC) as a sort of horcrux for his darkest magical intentions. Now the DJS are in a rush to extract this device before time runs out. Wtf did Dillon Francis do? YO HE LITERALLY MADE HER INTO A POPPIT. What the fuck is a poppit. It's like a little fuckin— thing— witches use to store magical energy and when the spell is over you're supposed to destroy them— but he DIDNT and it came to life and it merged with CC! Yooooooo! Who is now Blū Tha Gürū, because Chak Chel disappeared— or sort of disappeared— to aide in the magical assasination of Let me guess— No don't guess, you could ruin it. What. Don't literally ruin it. The show exists in a multiversial construct which means anything you say, or think, or guess could unintentionally alter the plot, and skew it into an array of infinitely possible dimensions! Oh no! But I already thought! Shh! No you didn't! Just replace those thoughts— with better ones z— I don't have any better thoughts! Well, make some up! Uh— ok! Shh, it's coming back on: this is where it gets intense. I thought you've never seen this before I know! But I know it gets intense! Well, how do you know that?! BECAUSE I KNOW THAT ALREADY. {Enter The Multiverse} ENTER THE MULTIVERSE is getting intense. BLŪ WHAT. NO ITS NOT! I can't take it I just can't take it I just can't take it no more I just can't n THE SKY IS FALLING! WHY?' I don't know. Seems pretty intense though, doesn't it. FUCK YOUUUUUU DEADMAU55555555! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!! I am DEADMAU— *powers down* Ah, fuck. {Enter The Multiverse} ICONS KATT WILLIAMS is coaching the NBC GAMES. KATT WILLIAMS Alright, b-ball time! Shirts! Versus skins! …you can be skins, Jimmy Fallon. *winks* Ew. She's so fucking gross. I don't get it. Uh— what? No I can't. I'm wearing a suit. I'm sure it's fused to my skin, or something. (This is actually the VICE AGENT version of the dude, who is wired head to toe. If he takes his shirt off, it will blow his cover.) SKINS. Fuck. L E G E N D S HE DUPED YOU! I BELIEVE THAT! He's good at everything! Especially things like that! WE'LL KILL HIM! NO ONE CAN KILL HIM. HE IS IMMORTAL. –doesn't mean we can't try. *dramatic music* [beat] WHAT?! I SAID– I CAN'T HEAR YOU, THERE'S A HELLICOPTER LEVITATING DIRECTLY OVER US! I KNOW! THAT'S WHY I WAS YELLING TOO, IT'S JUST– [Suddenly they realize, it is the he of who they speak hovering in the helicopter.] *GASP* DOn'T. {it's too late. He unloads a clip from an automatic rifle] THOSE ARE BANNED IN EUROPE. YOU COULD HAVE FOOLED ME! I KNOW I COULD HAVE! BECAUSE YOU ARE QUITE OBVIOUSLY EASILY FOOLED! ENOUGH. The helicopter scoops down and unrolls a ladder. W–wait! ARE YOU GETTING IN THE HELLICOPTER WITH HIM?! (dramatically) It appears so. WHAT. YES! YES I AM GETTING INTO THE HELLICOPTER. ARE YOU GONNA SHOOT AT ME? *confused* *shurgs* (he gives up) ..of course not. Well then, I believe it is YOU that has been duped. WHAT!??!? GOOD DAY, SIR. Lil Bitz They really nominated Stephen Colbert for an Emmy, and then fired him the next day. What on Earth. What did you do at the party, bro? Be honest! They literally we're like, Wednesday: You're nominated for an Emmy award! Thursday: You're cancelled! Cancelled, bro. How do you cancel the late show? That was David Letterman. The whole point of a show like that is so it goes on forever! Nope, cancelled! Daaaamn. You better win that Emmy now, bruh. {Enter The Multiverse} Look at the pale ass people who can afford this place— I'm probably not even allowed there With much dishonor and bad distaste- You'd better stop coming around there If I spend my time out buying your price Mercy to the highest bidder You can call me anything you'd like But just don't call me a quitter If it's talk you want, I've got all the words For a stake, I'll buy you dinner In my house of hands, I've got all nine cards Hey Mary, your husband's a sinner I play all nine holes I lived all nine lives I spend all night In the The Panorama Room Smoke a parliament, parliament I just haven't the heart (The heart) To tell her You were part of it (Part of it) But I just sat down To write my love a letter When you know it's over (You know it's over) But you know you can't Forget her When you know it's over (You know it's over) But you also know That you just can't Forgive her And I just sat down And I just sat down And I just sat down To write my love a letter I write all my best lines In The Panorama Room And I'm back on prime time tonight But it's just lights out If I get back now I just might be up by noon But if I pass out In the town car I went that far As to turn back out For an hour, or a barback Oh wow, I — Look at the time Have a long night out I just lost my life At The Panorama Room It wasn't exactly the phantom But it just might have been Patrick And just like that, I need a back rub And a ballroom gown And an hour of heart talk But I just don't want all that, God I just gotta keep talking Outback from one But what's after all out? I'm no longer lost, I just wanna know How far till the next exit? When's wind a kite to fall back on? How many faxes till it makes sense? Cause it ain't been ten days yet, But I faked maybe seven or eight It is dangerous! A high stakes game, nothing makes sense Till just the end, then it hates to— Just rolls over, the next day raises And all you know is a tunnel And the smoke rising up from the long tail And really no hope goes there at all, But the words to a song And then they cut the lights off It is over; You don't know her, You can't love her— You can't move here, And there's no home sprung out of Hollywood; It was all a hoax, It was all just marxists, And now you really all are on your last dollar to spend, because in the end, truth is currency and we inTelevision really ain't in the business of truth in media; The honesty is honestly just as lost as you and I all are and yet— as proposed, We really are not as one, but so separate that it's possible, your stardust, and my horcruxes Are not that foreign to one another in terms of matter, but fall on us as gospels of one world to a whole other. You know that? It really has been a long drunk drive up the 101 in this classic car with the bucket seats and honest, I'm dying in the intertwined and reading these radio waves just as any old controller, but who knows really when it goes into the ocean, Seemingly out of control, But just turns back to shore, Such as a surfboard. — Seth Rogen. No, no dust— keep moving— It's just sandy beaches and trouble warring No, not now, keep off us— If trouble waves and shadows park this car, A storm is coming. And we were off to shore in the blue classic car, U-turned into her shore like a surfboard on the water. Don't ever do that again. I won't bother. You said “off road.” I didn't know that meant ocean. No, it doesn't go in the ocean. I spoke too soon. {Enter The Multiverse} Do you want me to die, Or bury your love like a secret ther I betray you, And portray you here in such a way as are kings and god, but of ruthless man, you are no honor or, or— worthy of such prize, as I, you ponder? Death seeks you and slowly surely is approaching and is as upon us the dog that barks and the wind that calls and the kiss that waits not as dusk but morning light, and do our calls upon us. And wait you then, these things I have here in my gate, and the knowing of the tide that does not moon, put sorrow? Like a lake it is thus ruined and by my time passed and even ye you, there hath it been not told, as told before the earth will shake with envy, and with pity, and with bore her such pride as slain thy son?! No! You do not any but gasp in these, my words as so you wore but tattered clothes as truths to these, no in mine wealth of heart and rich of soul, yet these bearing little truths have sown our end I wait Here slithers here the snake for singing crickets followed thy sound and thy voice to betray you; And thee I harp as though not to wait my tongue, my pride has pondered on this moment. O, I know and shall to thee my praying the honor of know not I that seek in weighing many days upon us; And though ye as many embark in flight and make my way and wonder where is but here the road to such a comet. Oh shit, he's asking about the other planet. Thank you. Yeah I— There's absolutely no chance in making it. It, by all standard and concept in the construct of time, is not possible. Your kind will be washed and diminished, and our time has come to again rule over our, to she whom you call “Earth”, not as our home, but as our daughter. You have known wise to honor her, our coming. Like omg what the fuck does this have to do with Jimmy Fallon. right. L E G E N D S: ICONS I guess it came through. Yeah, you're right. Yeah. CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR EMMY. Uhh… Thanks? I uh— we didn't win yet. Not with that attitude. Huh. Look at that. I guess you're right! [beat] —but wait, who are you up against? [The Festival Project ™] This is intense. Yeah, I'll say it is… We gotta get to the other side of that portal. I don't think we should be making any— — we should go through the portal—! —plans very seriously— and honestly I'm thinking— Or maybe— you stay here, and I'll go through the portal, and you tell me if you can hear anything once I make it to the other side! I don't know if that…works. What? Why not dude? It'll be great— Cause I don't know anything about portals, and honestly— —I'm thinking— I just want to make it past the Emmy's so I can get laid again—like really laid— I've been… paying… for it. —you want to skip going through a portal so you can get laid? By a decent— and by decent I mean free— lady who just happens to be single and in attendance of the Emmy's or any of the after parties— yes, actually! Yes! No! We have to go through this portal to see what's actually on the other side! I don't have to do anything! No, you don't have to do anything— because I'm going through the portal, and you're just—staying and making sure you tell me if you can hear me! I don't think it's that easy actually! But you don't know until you try. I'm not trying. You're trying. And I'm letting you because you're pressuring me! Shut up. You're starting to sound like one of my interns. If I was one of your interns I would be quitting, and hash tagging you already. If you were one of my interns you wouldn't be paying for company. What's that supposed to mean? Just—- {Enter the multiverse} Stop. What if all whores are just bored workers And all escorts personal massagers— What if all message boards are mating calls And all honor rolls are leader boards, And all board rooms are horse drawn carriages For faraway battlefields, What if nothing I offer even comes close To the dollar value of your most cherished call girl And what if anything I know about her Doesn't conform to my idea of a comfort zone? What if the anxiety you're eyeing me and getting high behind me with is just designed to bind my mind enlightening the lightning strike dividing my entirety? What if I want to know you know my known worth without words or surfaces? What if all I don't know is all of my whole world, And just the dollop of a thought could push you off the wall to fall from the top of the Rockerfeller plaza into art upon the crosswalk? What if I could touch that cross, and walk with the palm of the sword stretched out like a… What were you saying? I don't know something about the handle of a sword turning into another object? What if I could hypothesis not one, but all the conundrums in one stroke of nonsense? Stop already? For what. I was told I could have been bought and sold Had I dressed the part To drive off in the pretty corvette But how dare I not Look just as hard earned As her for dollar signs Although Somebody bought her all of that? What if all you are is just bullets in the gun And a wound for my brain And a heart to heal Without home or a umbrella As the rain comes down so hard It sends whole homes floating? What if all the remarks in my smart ass couldn't call you up in the form of laughter? How about that one? How does your back ache? How was your hour glass. Much much Longer And Harder Than An hour. How I broke my spell? I just shook her hands. I just put my tail In between my legs And departure Marks the time of Our new travel archive But With just the dust of lust From dusk till dawn The one you wanted Climbs upon the forest In another song Or story What you— One, Two, Three dice— The riddle Four, five, Six mice, the honor Six, seven— Someone's disrespected; Lessons! Eight, nine— Oh my, Someone's right behind us. Nor can I stop writing or whining about my desires, and deadlines coming up and signing off, but I'm still crying. So I never sold my sole, And yet, The light from it was stolen; Slamming doors and hard earned apartments, Multipliers and real bad liars And one liners And one sells signed autographed autobiographies Now how about that for a rabbit hole, Seth Meyers? You should work harder on your crossovers Then again, the rule of thumb is to just Put them all on the old drum code And it's just no fun If it's not on suicide watch Don't bother I don't brother, But I learned to love her. You know? Silly little game, this inconsiderate confusion, wind washed galleyways and fisherman to put you under, Degrading you very awaking for the patrons, faking it— No things haven't made sense since you ate it With which way Is the birthday cake? Mistakes the Ace as Satan Lately, anything don't matter but that's a laugh Still no dollar though, no Don't call her out— she just wants courage And witness to slaughter Hers the very lamb of truth And mother's daughter. Put your art to work, This is not a war, it's a fairway And it and your worth, It's a fair game It ain't make sense Till you get 8-6 out a bar that you own Under A. An Alias, B. Under the Name of an Accomplice or otherwise trustworthy partner to which not you call love, but perhaps a co-owner. (Or co-author.) Remember the time now? A shit. I gotta run. Where to? I don't know yet. Grey suit. The whispers of a game Blue tie White stripes Red lips, One aim and he doesn't think twice One name and he doesn't give once Two trips to the hallway, One gun in the holster, One bullet in the chamber, And one number you thought of. Four? …yes. I've got a secret, a dirty little secret. The Rock and The Kite XI {Enter The Multiverse} Copyright The Collective Complex © [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] © 2025 All Rights Reserved -Ū.

Seth Meyers jokes about Canada in his Netflix special, "Lobby Baby".

Seth takes a closer look at Donald Trump calling the Jeffrey Epstein case a "hoax," saying supporters of his who are still fixated on it are "stupid" and claiming the mysterious Epstein files were actually created by Democrats to damage him politically.Then, in an extended version of his broadcast interview, Timothy Olyphant talks about starring in Stick alongside Owen Wilson and Marc Maron, shares a story about the time Marc Maron totally dissed John Hamburg on set and reveals how his wife felt about his bleached eyebrows for his role in Alien.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

“Look what they eye unearthed,” leaning into the tip of my ear with the warmth and closeness of the coming waves, high tide approaching in the waning moon. “More secrets.” I replied. It was a question but also a statement— there was never such as this the luminescent trace of the glowing lava that was his force and might that I could not see for miles before he would even wander— first in twinkling stars and then later the wind itself and the birds, and then beneath the waves, like the quaking shake of a mighty oak anchored elsewhere and tied to the sea. “So you know.” I was hoping he would kill me before the next time I had to ever really know anything. He was the subject, and the predicate The wrong done, and the justice She was the pride and the prejudice But Judas brings the law Did you look in the box? No, I– [The Box Is The Box] –No, I haven't. Nearly three nights ago, a mysterious box arrived on the doorstep of an equally mysterious writer, who spends their time in isolation due to the often unannounced arrival of various ghosts, spirits, time travelers, and other figures by instant teleportation and other magical forms of transportation into their shabby New York apartment. Some of ya'll got so many air wick plug ins and scentci wax melts you don't know you smell like booboo. It's an illusion. You leave your house, You smell like booboo. I promise. Oh, God, I think I need a drink. Are you alright? Let me just–sit down for a second. Of course. My God. What's wrong. Look, i'm not supposed to say anything about this but. What's wrong? It's nothing, I'm just–I'm in a song. …what? A song! Is that all?! You don't understand. It's not a normal kind of song. It's– [takes a puff of inhaler] You wouldn't understand. Well what's so wrong about being in a song? Its not – a regular song–and it's not [gasping] finished! I still kind of wanted to be a comedian–but I knew I wasn't funny in the way that made sense to keep going and stand up there. I was still writing comedy, but I didn't know how to take myself out of it–the truth was, I was in a lot of pain. A lot of emotional pain that was becoming physical–and I didn't know what to do about it to break the barrier of nervousness and blank slate state of feeling the audience's perceptions of me more overwhelmingly than ever feeling myself. look at this song. I know huh. It's purple. Every time. It is purple. And what is that. Like a muted trombone? IS THAT A TROMBONE? Or a tuba? No, it has to be a trombone…becasue you can hear it slide– And that's what that sound is. What a sneaky rabbit. Super sneaky rabbit. So if i can see all this, I'm almost certainly sure the motorcycles outside and the slamming doors are meant to murder me. I'm sure that's what it is. You ever notice how being broke in New York makes you a bad person? Like, if you're broke, you're just automatically shitty. I never meant to be in New York broke. I never meant to be in New York, But I certainly never meant to be here and be poor, Poor in New York? Automatically a shitty person. Despite how you act. You can be a rich piece of shit— But the status is automatically “You got dough? Oh, alright. Carry on” That's the attitude in New York City. Crap people get by cause they got their hands on some money and the rules in New York say it doesn't really matter how you come by it, As long as you come by it. There's no real rules or real laws to it— Just “Get the money” Well god damn. This makes me nervous. I'm an artist. I've tried everything. I didn't mean to be the automatic enemy here. Of course not. But New York is a terrifying place to me, now, Cause I realized I can be a very sweet, very humble, very honest person— And that kind of shit doesn't matter here, really. It brings you no respect to be decent. It's about the money. So I'm a musician— which in New York also makes me like, Automatically not special, And I'm trying to just be a musician, and so naturally, I'm broke. Like broke in half. Like all my bills are late. But music is my solace. So I'm listening to music, And I'm listening to a song that is so beautiful, that I start to cry. The first time I heard it, it made me cry And I'm listening to it over, and it made me cry And it's so beautiful, and God is so beautiful And look at what God did, So I'm crying, And I don't even know what it is about the beauty of it that's making me cry, But it's making me cry, And New York hears me crying And New York goes “I'll give you something to cry about” And I open my email And there's a bill from my landlord reminding me how often I'm talked about due to my late payments— And I'm realizing I've been here two years and I still don't have any money, Even though I've been trying and trying And trying So now I'm crying for other reasons. Thanks a lot, New York. “I'll give you something to cry about” So I did. If there's anything worse than being black in a city that hates blacks— It's being broke in a city that hates broke people. So I haven't spent any money in awhile. Not even on little things, or things I need. I just stay inside, and work, and think And try and really try To figure out how to make money Without having any, or spending any. Cause you can have it, and spend it, but it's always a gamble. Maybe all I needed was a good cry. But now it's not for the right reasons I'm not crying cause something is so beautiful and look at what God did I'm crying because of what I'm sure is just the devil I'm crying for the wrong things Not because of something that's so very beautiful But because of something that's so very ugly With just a wave of the hand And the flick of each finger as it rolls into a crisp closed palm, A flick of birds fell to the ground, bursting with caws Below his stance, and in a flutter of feathers and wings, The evil master, unmoved and untouched, Untouchable in his weight and glory, simply only even mildly and barely smirks at all. He has defeated all and still somehow, not won. Some say it's sure to come, the thing that wants and gathers ties; Some say surely it is yet but withered and then sure again will come It has, five times, and barely waded, Waking in the midsts of my pure eye, The morning light and fog, aye? Ye, they remembers none but our Art, And I'm bound as sure by wing and force Is you to dozens of masses, And ships having sailed but one, Which I have flourished and kept And stocked with these, the masses And yea having spade, and having friends And having honor, there was none past kept and mine, sured; And wicked may as wicked be but evil none truer thou nones't had yet pured, and muted and gathered, I have, And woken and laid and barren and truths do'st tied, And there have been shooken and wait, And m faire'd and barred here, and hereforth My duty it is to forward, forward, my shallows For my shadow, For my golden hour has shined and now you, These caged shall fly, And these thoughts shall sing, And these hour conspired to miss my time daily, And these things, beytraying that— There have no times at all, These walls in holy temples kept, swaying and cadences, and wearing, and weary, And foreign and ayered, aye— and armored. And he, you, does not wish to know but also has known— and does not wish to see, but he, too has blinded, and does not wish to betray, and yet has been crowned, made with guilt and also Shattered, as it was, And shatters, as it came, the wave o'er all us and tide sinking under, and caves and rebels and heart laid bare to surf not suffer, Nor cap nor keeping, nor tied nor honor, No, honor her; No honor came and I have tied also, this tie to mine, and another, and another and another Now forward. Forward! Forward! Damn, Conan's monologues he going deep. Yeah, I guess. He's fine, right? Look, you don't need this. Just promise me. I am sorry. Mr Jimmy has it good, too good Little sister doesn't have a heart. But didn't know it Mister music made it in the industry, too hat Mister rager had a sip at dinner It was all dramatic Stars went falling Crashing down and All it is Ms. Martha Is mismanagement of energy All it is, Ms. Margret is a magnet And it hasn't happened badly since I had a handle on it But I still get sick of madness And I still get sick with city sickness Still, forget the dancer I was sitting on the show, In the audience With my mother, Oh the models, Dozens of them Blondes and ballet buns, the brunettes I was just a lost cause And I wanted it all, the tux and the bow tie I wanted you gone so I looked at it harder Until It became nothing but Clouds in the sky You were stardust I'm a comet Here comes crashing, Had to find the progress report Then I lost it Soggy in the sideways rain It was days and days Do you promise? That's a concept? Do you promise God will be alright, Cause I came running Sent them under cover Sent the men a message Send the man a hammer Sitting in a hammock No one homes the hostile If you don't have anything nice to say Then don't say anything at all And certainly don't come and go As often as you want to It's a game of control; you know The whites, when they still want to own you Somehow I'm all sub so honest, I just—wanted that But only for a man and never bow to another woman Even if on my honor I found us as equals And no one walks the earth as calmly As someone whose never had their lights out Or had their light put out Or their lights turned off Who are God now? Who's our God, man? Who's our God, Math. That's heavy weight, And if you want a biblical fate This is Fallon, And if you watch what you ate You cut calories And if you want the girl back Give it Californian And I'm not towrth much more Than the project housing, Or a handful of candy corn, Conan— But I phone in Oscars, Still no nuts for the rabbit, And if you wanted the bunker back— You can have it. I'm all hands down in a game of poker Heaven doesn't want it Gotta get drunk not once, but at all the goalposts, Gotta count one, not two, the show hosts Too few car parts Wicked, mazes, starfold, gazes Wishes, Martyred. (But pronounced mar-tired} V.O I think about jay Leno a lot. Lately, anyway. I don't know why. I like all the hosts. Somebody. Tell me why Dillon Francis looks like JD Vance. I think he's a clone. Tel me why I know who JD Vance is. They're clones. Tell me why. Back to the future here and now So. Where do you want to go? Anywhere but here. Anywhere but here is kind of far, are you sure you're up for it? Good one, doc Though head of the alumni chapter of the cult-within a cult—to which each African American cast member of Saturday night live is automatically inducted into— EDDIE MURPHY refuses to participate in the group's latest and most complicated ritual. Delivery. Uh, I didn't order any— Breadsticks. What. Breadsticks. I didn't order any— Just— The delivery man hands over the breadsticks. —take them. Oh…Kay. See ya. The delivery man reaches in and shuts the door himself. Uh… Lol is this the one where the mysterious breadsticks are delivered without ever being ordered, and then they end up being the best breadsticks in the world, but they don't know where they came from? Yes. I think so. Lol I bought a planner because so much I loved Joan Rivers, and I planned to fill it with all the places I should go— because keeping anything digital online was not only not working as far as remembering places I wanted or needed to be be, but it was dangerous, also. I was already being tracked, and I couldn't afford a new phone just yet. Eventually, but for now I was stuck to the same signal— which meant the same traces and the same trackers they had been limiting my under-the-radar mystique. As it were, somebody always knew where I was, and it was in the most unpleasant way so far—the only thing I really wandered was what made me so important anyway to begin with. I wasn't actually political in anyway, and still someone seemed to be trying to derail my life… or at least control it, neither of which was beneficial for me in the way that made sense. I wasn't having any fun, nor did I consider living indoors as payment— especially since indoors, there were also paid plants and stalkers, and now that I had begun to more meticulously document the things that were happening, it was easy to separate from delusions. I was actually being followed— but why? Either way, having a detailed. Calendar of places I could go, the ways to get there and even alternate functions within the same grid allowed more control than just staying in my apartment a sitting duck; that's how they were hurting me. They knew where I was— all the time, and it no longer made sense to fight it and try to make music under this kind of insane irritation; the music I was making wasn't the kind I wanted anyway, and whatever war they were fighting with m stark white girls motorcycles was simply not my war. I didn't have a war, and so there wasn't a fight, and so at the very least if I were going to be fucked with, it would have to be in public; that way I had more control to steer whatever was happening in my favor and collect the energy as mine instead of lost. I wasn't an insane person— but what had been happening at my apartment was insane, and so I left it with the understanding that these people worked and operated on a level of violence and ignorance I would never be able to comprehend; they were simply tools for the devil, which in any case, was always the lesser than God. However— because I was starting to figure out who I was, and that I had some sort of power, I knew that I was going to be attacked— because it seemed my power had at the very least not been figured out as to some kind of way to make somebody else money. I had been studying Michael Jackson and this was a key indication that the way his talent priovided a power which would be used as a service, he was very successful. His talent and training alone wouldn't have reapresented with such great reverence the ability to capture a global audience as such— but it was this power, almost as if it had been bottled up and altered, rebranded and sold and labeled with something everyone could not only love and understand, but by the hand of the media and its conglomerates, be hypnotized to worship, and this power simply put would not have been exactly what it was were it not for the eye of the media remaining in complete control of its distribution to the eyes and ears of the public. This thing which might have been the first of its kind but certainly not the last was in a sense model for modern superstardom— the live concert business had not sense much changed but built upon this super powered control of the masses by assimilation, spectacle, and of course the magic and illusion. But, and it it just so happened to perfectly brush up against my studies in esoteric knowledge that I happened to rub up against this— although nothing was of course by mere circumstance anymore, because whether or not I remained incognito was a wash, and I was being looked at by someone no matter what on the internet I did, or where I decided to go and in that sense was being fed these things, and yet with some Grace of God was allowed with it to be aligned with my own higher purpose in a way, I could observe that Michael Jackson was not in fact of course certainly just a dancer or singer or remarkable performer— he was truly a magician, and I was able to clearly recognize this language with with the energy that had used his vehicle for such a projection was speaking— not only this, I was able to clearly count out the markings and sigils and signs and symbols Michael was making in his movement; ancient arts, and magical symbols, traced so rapidly that it almost created a heat signature in a sense of the symbols that were being dictated, unknowing to the untrained eye. For the most part, I could only really assume that this is why these people were losing their minds— in his movements, Michael Jackson was literally carving ancient callings, glyphs and sigils I had so recently read about in magical studies that it was impossible not to laugh. This was in every sense of the word, ‘magic' but not in the normal way one assumes to be something unexplainable. Michael Jackson was casting spells to thousands of people at a time, in front of cameras and at high volume vibration, often times even implementing the use of light, color, and fire. These were not simple gatherings in mass for entertainment purposes— these were rituals, and in the modern day, still were or are— but I had noticed in a quick glimpse, from Michael Jackson 30 some odd years ago to Lady Gaga just having passed something like a week ago to an audience of the same size— that something was kind of wrong, now. The people had changed, and the specable had been done over and over, and the brainwashing of the masses had in a sense been almost complete— and so It wasn't some sense of confusion or unknowing the things that were happening to me in my own life and my own world— I too, was capable of these things, at that capacity, and had simply not been trained in the same sense of the ideal superstar, however— the things that were happening in my own life and in my own world were not difficult to grasp or understand— when one comes upon a power as such, it finds means to seek to control it and harness it for his own use and purposes. Perhaps it was the simple fact that in this way, in the way I get the dream had gone and the spectacle had been played out of the masses and the illusion was no longer as such— that the actual knowledge of distinct ancient wisdom that had been Michael Jackson's natural ability was distinguishable from that of Lady Gaga's training in the same formula, and that one did not equal the other, but in terms of business could equal to that as such as the masses had been manipulated to seek solace in these same things— and it was not illusion or grandiosity that I, even in my agingness, was still capable of these things; I had no doubt in my mind that I could sing and dance for two hours to audiences of hundreds of thousands— but this was not the question for the business or the media— the question was, would hundreds of thousands pay to see me, or rather— who was willing to front the means to hypnotize hundreds of people to become aware of me so that they would do such a thing. My talent and capabilities were undeniable— but my markatability might have been in question, because it was no longer simply a matter or chance or luck: the people chosen to figure such spectacle were chosen, hand selected and well trained to become media conglomerate superstars, even regardless of talent; perhaps this itself was the key indication that the world of the superstar itself had come to an end—it was no longer so much of a spectacle was worth it. Or, perhaps, because money had come between these ancient arts and symbols and languages being spoken by the superstars of old, that the magic in the literal sense had gone all the way away. The symbolism in the art had died, and so the singing and the dancing remained, but the God had gone out of it. Maybe that was the difference. The superstars of today were just the shell of the model that had been built on God, but the Godsense of it was no longer there— and so the magic no longer remained in effect, as the powers of magic that be are in all ancient arts and texts and forms attributive to The Source. Either way, I wasn't going to continue to be a sitting duck in my apartment in Brooklyn— there were too many indications that it had all been a setup from the shelter to the day I moved in, with the motorcycles and cars and CBS studios one block away. So the real and only question was, what exactly had been played at and who exactly was pulling the strings? I might at this point become a loose cannon: my son was estranged and as far as the people were concerned, I mostly hated New York— because the refined, clean cut and classy people I liked and wanted to be around saw me as the dirt and the grime I was fighting my way through just to simply exist— in my mind, this was a world that could be no more. I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I met sparrow in a cage I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress Keep writing I never thought I ‘d see the day Where i's taking lessons on Fallon From Michael Jackson That's ran That's a fan This is fame I'm insane I'm insane That's a fan Light the flame That's a fan. That's a fan. I like Sara in a dress I met sparrow in a cage I went up the rack, set the page on fire Nordstrom rack And I might take it back for the cash I like Sara in a dress Stay repressed Keep it dark If you kiss don't tell I will probably go to hell for just writing Try it In black ink, I got all spades, Ehy, Spare me the ridicule, the imbecile and I met Johnny in a cage I like Fallon in a dress, Obsessive, I'm dressed out Every day I leave where I do not live Where stalker crawl and haunt me Just to show the motorcycles Have desheveled my intelligence into Nothing And so with negligence, I leave the core of a rotting apple The foreign words of a doctor And You must call the king, says something far off But I wonder which one I wonder which one I so respect her honor That I no longer Follow my heart or my soul And I don't shallow But shatter to swallow So I let the sparrow Out of the cage I bought Sara A pair of pants And I haunt l Patrick Kirkpatrick in patches And haven't you read yet You're ready for forget the pageant? It hasn't happened yet! I love Sara in a dress I hate Fallon and his wife Keep the kids out if it Skull and crossbones Cross my heart and Really hope to the loveless Or else Someone might call my phone back It's on silent in my coffin Or wait— It's on vibrate. I'm obsessed with the way You're dressed And the name on your checks I guess I'm better for it I'll skip lunch if you think that's what's best And dinner, too If you deserve the best Then better have learned my lesson No sweat And to do, With you, Was then, Dinner through next supper All the love I had was Rubbed into something other than The glass I patted dry With microfiber With ever fiber of my being I want to be with you I should have just— Died, And then Did, and so next Life, Remind me not to Fall for it If i really wanted to know you,I would know you by now– If i wanted to have you? I would have had you already Nobody is a dancer after Michael Jackson. I just watched some shit that was like “What the fuck did I just see” The whole thing was just not right. It was-/ I was like First of all, it's Munich, 1997. I never really realized how terribly the world has changed; No cellphones, but the audience is lit, And the crazy thing is, you can tell that this is near the turn of the century because, when the camera is panning by the audience in the people, they're not looking directly into the camera or waving at the camera— not really. And clearly this is an all ages show, so there's children, so the interesting thing I'm finding out is that nobody's trained to look at the camera and wave and smile— except the babies on shoulders and shit. These kids— they're my age now, are the only ones that see the camera, and they look directly into the shit. Mi still can't do that, really— I'm theatrically trained. Haha If I see a camera, I try to act ‘natural' It's the weirdest thing to look at a camera and just start to work it. People at festivals now, the camera rolls by, Or the drone flies in, And they look deadass in the camera and start to work it. Not at this show. Munich 1997, I'm like “Damn, a lot of things is wrong with this” First of all, I love Michael Jackson, I look directly at this man, and I'm in my dirty peak so I have an instant— like a sex detector thing going on And I know people gave Michael a hard time when he was a live for being fruity and whatever But I'm looking at this dude, and I don't see fruit at all. I see 100% man. I see why people were mad at him. Cause I'm looking at this dude, 100% All I see is carnal, primal man. I'm like, “Yo, I see why they was mad at him” Because the camera kept panning to the audience And these people are losing their minds. They are coming out of themselves. They are UGLY CRYING, full out of body, Losing composure They don't know what to do. That's Michael Jackson. He's right there! And the place is huge so really besides these few hundreds of people in the front, Michael's just a speck, But he's working this audience like “Yo, you know who I am, I know who is me” And I'm realizing, that to these people That's their god. These girls are losing their minds m “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!l *crying inconsolably* Just UGLY crying Bitch, get it together . You all the way lost yourself Get. It together. She won't. This bitch. I can't get over this This one girl, They just keep going back to her Cause the whole show— And this is like 2 hours of pure non stop Michael Jackson, This girl, every time you see her, she's just ugly crying— And every time you see her Her cry is uglier and ugly I'm like “Damn bitch” “Daaaaaaang” So this is the first thing I see that is wrong. But there's a lot of things wrong here, Cause there's a lot of girls like this. There's just— hundreds of girls losing their minds, like, I've seen Beatles mania and thought that was crazy, Shit, I've even seen some people put out that kind of energy in the modern world for some dumb DJ's— That's their god— But THIS THIS Michael Jackson mania was mental illness That was hard to watch. That was people just Lost control. I'm thinking “Like goddamn. You— what?!” “AAagghhhhhhgahahahahahqhahahhahaha MICHAELl “These people are sick” But they are. And so is Michael Fame has gone too far, 1997; 12 short years before he died, by chance— So this is what I see, And then Michael starts dancing, And this— This is what I see; I see the only thing that can ever be what it was in that moment in time, as God being God: Michael Jackson. Shiny ass motherfucker, And so I'm watching this show, And all I see is a God being a man being a God being— Michael Jackson— And the whole thing is weird. But the worst part— Yes The worst part Was when, about mid show, Michael goes to do one of his slow, lovey doves songs, And like, this 6 foot 7 type body guard guy, Just pops up out of nowhere, Comes dead front and center to one of these little girls losing their minds, Runs up on her in an instant; You don't even have time to think— And just SNATCHES her— Snatches the bitch— “Ah!” then throws her up on stage with Michael— And he's still singing; this is his game, this is part of the show, he knows— But she doesn't know, And she's just lost her mind, She won't let go She's hugging and kissing on the dude, She's lost her mind, She's ugly crying She's on the floor, She's kissing his hand She's really lost her good goddamn mind— And they pan out to the audience, And all the girls that didn't get picked Are like WHY NOT MEEEEEEEREEEEE?!? THE UGLY CRIES ARE EVEN UGLIER NOW, They're like “Wh—what?” You don't know?! “WHY NOT ME” They're holding each other crying, Michael's just doing his thing, He's unphased, He's trying to play along; He's a professional like a motherfucker; He's just— keeps singing And this girl is just, Losing it, so at this point, it's weird, She's crazy batshit lost her mind all the way, Won't let go of Michael, kissing his face while he's singing, He's kind of unreceptive to it, now just looking out at the audience, almost not even looking at all Just cold as fuck actually, Like she's not there, kissing his face Cold as fuck— And then another bouncer dude— An even bigger one in a blue suit, comes and tears her off of Michael Cause clearly this has gone too far or whatever And I'm thinking “What in the fuck did I just see” Blue suit dude just snatches, Just— He has to tear her off of him! She's kicking and screaming and getting dragged off stage Michael's just: singing. YO. Then they dragged her back stage. Where did she go?! WHO DID SHE BECOME?! WHAT IN THE FUCK DID I JUST SEE?!? WHAT. 1997. You can't do that shit anymore! You cannot snatch bitches like that. I seen. Watch the video. Tell me what's wrong with it. It's disgusting. Not the snatching, Not the— Like, that was weird But the screaming and the crying and the— Like okay, the snatching was bad— But I'm like … ..:: …. Now I see why they was mad. Don't ever forget he was once— A dark skinned little boy, And in his genetics his whole life is still this thing That some hate. But people loved him; they loved him that hard— Screaming, ugly crying hard. I think in that moment you know someone was like “he must be stopped!” And it seems like yesterday was a year ago But I don't want let anybody know… Cause everybody wants something from me now— And I don't want to let them down. My life is over. New York City looks so small from the top of a skyscraper. What are you doing. Then again— my thoughts lately have been grandiose. Back market, eh? What's this for? You need a burner. I have three. Here, have another. For someone whose supposed to be entirely off grid, I'm admirably reachable. Clever vocabulary. Something has to be clever about me, doesn't it? Does it? It must be. Or else. [both men are speaking casually over the delicate process of loading rare guns; some of which appear to be antique, and some—almost even unearthly , as if from somewhere besides our own planet. But, you could say what planet this is at all, actually— this bunker, with no windows and no doors, is apparently hidden in a subterranean layer— the location, unknown. The men seem calm but also quite tired and weary, and seem to know each other well. We can assume they've probably been friends for years. Sickle cell anemia. Does that mean I'm going to die. Animus, I quite like whatever that is, Google. ;) don't mention it. Honestly, you might as well. What. I can't help you with this. What. I don't think there's anyone who can. Beg your pardon. Please, don't beg— but uh… [the doctor pats his patient on the shoulder] Do take care. Gee, doc! I'll try! You should do that. What. Try. The doctor leaves seemingly in some kind of hurry, trading his lab coat for a trench coat and closing the door behind him. The other man pauses for a second in the silence of the weird linoleum room, then ponders on the coat for a moment before walking up to the coat rack, putting on the coat, and then walking out the door himself; as he begins to shut the door, he quickly decides also to take the fedora that was sitting atop the coat rack, placing it on his head before he walks out the door himself, shutting it behind him quietly. You got anything to eat in here? Cereal…some rabbit food ina the drawers, there. Oh, you have salad. That sounds nice. No, rabbit food. [the man presents a large bag of weird brown dry food from the crisper drawer.] …pellets. For the rabbits. How do rabbits get in here? …I don't know. And— more importantly— where did you get rabbit food for them? If I told you Amazon, would you believe me? The man just winces and places the bag back into the crisper drawer. Now listen, I um— If you want cereal, the milk is powedred… I don't— and that's disgusting— but listen— [the man cocks a loaded gun and admires it intensively] (Dismissively) —I'm listening. I've been meaning to tell you something. Tell me what. It's important. Oh, You couldn't have used one of my four phones. Look, it's— You know I wasn't expecting company. Well— You should sit down. The man squints, beginning to listen more attentively. … …really. I'm holding a loaded gun; there are at least three more within arms reach if I do sit, you know. I know. But I should sit? One baby to another says, “I'm lucky to've met you.” Maybe you should. Not all my bad but all my might, And all my mind, The fire, The light. …business or personal. [beat] Both. {Enter The Multiverse} What are we watching?! Shhhhhh! Shut up. What is this? Some.. Sshhh. Shit, I don't know. Sit down. You don't know. SHH it just came on Shh. Ok. When? Uh… (Nobody really seems to know how long it's been. The show just happened to come on; no one remembers how, or why— or even when— But the show is intense as it gets; And it just keeps getting weirder and deeper.) {Enter The Multiverse} I'm transfixed on your soul And it seems I aspire To what has transpired here, Your unremarked and the umpire The spider veins and the way it washes. And watches and waves, and waters over you, And still I seem to think you've won another, Strum to thumb of you. And still I wake to gather here The odds and whats And the twists and turns and the Troublesome you've number some Or stuttered, stumbled conciousness. And withered branches Aces lie and house of cards And aging scoundrels— There you are, the..: Nevermind. Don't belittle my ways if, In the end my thinking may be correct As dumbfounded as I have shifted my lottery bonds tied to none, There ye are again who aren't I, And never were, And weathered now, as I, bound to Struggle under her might, Nothing I was, and nothing I am And nothing I came from but to barter Oh hard love, I only found my kings upon thrown As cast out of another by her likeness, Peace and pale and primed as it was, And wanted for love, As I was not— And then, the gates had opened And I, preaching withered, Gathered my arts and my minds And my eyes, and my thrones, Buried my ark and though not my bones The shallow waking peaks of pride And there you gathered, all as huddled sheep to mine, The cost of war, but certain therefore honored as I have, Happened went, came and untied, shattered Hating all I am and all my dark and all my eyes and all my brown Because you came and went, a baby born to as nothing was but beauty and yet having been gifted such life, Departed! Soon, I wake shattered and with none as it had began, in my time and in time there laid there none, But fortune seeks to favor, as ye are saying brave and yet I neither beg nor make to differ, Shall you come again in part, And in this time as shadows, as shadows As hating and wearing and waging, And shattered I, I pardon, Knowing not they seeking I, And I having none at all but one, As forgotten I shall came And went And followed this, The time y'i call now, And ours and ours, And yours and yours, And mine and mine, Though as one are also, Common not, And waking yet to find, These things making have gone into yer Another of ours, world, Another of our dozens, Shines, Another of our gathered, wit, and waking Though true to fortune, none us have gathered And have embarked to truth, The waking I have come, Another, and another, and another Departed. And yet, I bury my words having weakened to that which is this, Ye have no fear and lest no fortune in these words, For having I to come and gone, since they times In words to make this a language I or neither other Does not speak here, and almost never, And this yours time past, Has come and gone And come and gone And come and gone again, So long so I too have parted but not yet Unfolded as does my nature, As God does. Belittle this, you waking fools, As to this you pity though divine, Is unlike any other And steep remarked in gold and with chimes and words That ye here no often or either now, or in mine speak. Amen …can I go now? You are dismissed. C'cxell Soleïl, aka DJ Ū is an American DJ + Producer, Multi-Instrumentalist, Playwright, Poet, Comedian, Novelist & Filmmaker. She is best known for her unique vocal riffs, Clever Lyricism & Philanthropically Inspired Freestyles and her flagship venture [The Festival Project.™] [Ï A M B ī C], a freestyle studio mixtape recorded in Los Angeles, (Official Release: TBD) inspired the adaptation of a staged musical version for Broadway, and a concurrent multimedia (TV/Film) series and ongoing saga as part of The Festival Project ™ Brand. Inspired musically by an ‘Ultra American' experience of Racially, Binary Ambiguity, and Synesthetic Exploration, her reflective melodies signature sound provides a philosophical dissection of American culture through a careful and inquisitive mastery of the English language, and emergence of world sounds through music brings about ‘A New Era in Nature', and clarifies the establishment of the newest wave in human evolution: Unity Through Music. L E G E N D S What if I just want to be alone in the dark Alone in the dark Alone in the dark Bones Duggar was a long, handsome zombie Bones once was a very tall man Not great and tall, as he stands But average, Grand as it were, his status. Everything's black My heart My pants My home My mind Everything hurts But you don't understand that Like I can Calm the commercial holidays for a moment Who gets the card? Get our your hard earned My head hurts Slam the door man; You can't control thoughts With a wombat Murderer Now that's a hard concept to catch When you haven't a soul When you haven't a card Or a car Or a cat I think I'm vanilla. I always thought of myself as a super kink Like a freaky, freaky bitch. So I got on this app. This app is better then Tinder. Yes. But it is not for the faint of heart. No, sir. They have a test, I'm like “ooh, I like tests” So I take the test. The test was not at all… As I'd hoped. First of all, It was hard. It was not a quiz; It was a TEST And I failed. I realized “Oh my god, I don't like any of this stuff” I am not about that! No! Yuck! Gross. “I think I might be vanilla.” I might be vanilla. I want my hair pulled back like a leash And my arms tied up Like I'm being arrested Without being read my rights. — I want your hands on the back of my neck [breathe] Reach around to my Mortimer's apple Put the lights out, Adam. I want the lights cut off. I want the bills piled up so the phone don't work I want the habit back on Don't talk to nobody I told you, I'm coming No, God! That's dumb! Show me why I'm off all alone with a rattle so bad It's just segmented thoughts, colors and sounds I can't make with all the plugins in the kindgdom of chaos?! I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES— I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES —but the one who could love me is God, And I guess he's not coming. The denial turns to tears, Not songs no more My womb is empty And the sun has turned into Not what I wanted But not my fault We got caught in the land of Cutting costs And processed morsels At 400 pounds And that's where I found What I thought was love But it turns out That it just turns up In the whole form of a person And that's why I got the collar, caller But really I'm no one's lover So I Do what I want I don't hang up on God But he don't got a body And I need someone to love/ Fuck me Please God Don't turn the lights off I'll pull the clock back Just like foreskin, god i want your skin Draped over mine in a warm swath Probably run a hot back Cause the next stop is a closet The line doesn't really move for the Doesn'tMatterhorn. some people are starting to doubt if it's even a ride. Others just admire it for its eloquence as a metaphor. Johnny! You scared me! Aha. Where did you go?! Nowhere— fast! Alright well— Money when you know I have it But I haven't really Paid attention to the never ending Digits never coming in but Simply, there's a secret, Sonny Someday you'll get lessons, honey. Much to find and much to serve and Surf us up Piñata's bout the burst But here comes Vesuvius (POW) Everyone was gone in an instant (Vapor) Had a good laugh that night in the pantheon; Everything's past, and the mortals They kept on running But i didn't want go, God Putting on a show then I blow up Just like the mountain Found her Now I got a broke back husband (hope so) To tell, don't ask Don't show up if you just get lost But I'm probably in the back with a bottle back mountain Now you got a real horse pack. Trip Girl keep camping What was the map with the mask and the Fashion? Pass. I put sugar on the rim of the glass With my eyes half closed And my ass clenched fast shut I'm an alcoholic Don't involve the God I got lost in the mall with the —- UGHHHHHHHH! Hello. Uh, yes— hi. what up. Mirror mirror. Uh…nothing. You're lost? No. You look lost. Oh? Disgruntled. I am that. You're lost? I'm not lost. My friend is lost. His phone is dead. You lost each other. Sort of. Continuity conniption I nipped an eclipse And he picked his nose For a full ass minute Sitting at the stop sign That's a gobstopper's worth in our time Pull all the clocks back, Pull the fool over, You just got fined It was Friday for nothing I was in the hatchback, Scratch that Sour patch Should have called Pat back Now I'm just a Cool 48 in the ring with a date And the cashapp Continuity construction I want a husband! Fuck that. I want a clean cut plus one Since I can't have Helmet, Elmo, Or Hatchetman; Tears of a Clow…no, Wait I lost focus Half finished album Got 6 tracks But I knew it was 12 from the get go Prob‘ly should have knocked off the showrunner; Nah, I'm sure I had that coming Hashtag, undon Could have been you, too If the cash came through Now it's hard times Hardwired Sitting on a hi wire, Little white liar, liar Wait I made Katey Sagal (Fire) Cut off her hair (Fire) Went to the hall of fame with the framed sunglasses Asked for her autograf, But she walked off So I shot her with a bottle/ can, But she ducked, popped back up With the brass knuckles Surfboard Good for a chuckle and a fuck So I asked for her number All that on a Sunday at Gelson's market. Christ, almighty I miss Walmart, I hit hard times. So many places to run, But not many places to hide I think I want to die here I think i want to die. City of corruption… Lay it out and lay it over City of corruption… no, it's not a choice It's a black tie function Right in that very moment Seth Meyers kind of became my defacto personal hero. “Never meet your heroes” Or perhaps it was just his writing team, or the fact that maybe even without there even being anything set in stone or solid at all, [redacted] itself seemed to have a price over my head– It all seemed to make sense; in fact, all the crazy things i was experiencing made more sense than it didn't. But after what felt something like between defeat and maybe even one day really getting justice for all the things that had happened to me in new york– it was that, at best; That without actually meaning it, by all probability, the opening monologue described what in perfect sense the thing that had been happening to me: hundreds of motorcycles and cars riding around in circles for over a year, any time i tried to work or sleep–and then, when I finally tried to reach out to find an attorney that would help, I was made to feel crazy for it. In a way, it was the perfect indication that it had all been some sort of sick game, and that I was more right than wrong, and being set up to appear, sound, or look crazy–but I wasn't. I had been under attack for nearly two years, and when I tried to reach out, my heart raced and my voice cracked, and I sounded crazy and desperate–but what was happening was very real; and now I knew where I was. As it turns out, New York's corruption was more common knowledge to everyone else before it was to me: New York was a common place for fucked up, dirty, low-down mind games: and this was my lesson in that. Seth Meyers in reality had nothing to do with it–and really I only meant to watch Kimmel over my afternoon tacos. But still, though it hadn't entirely anything to do with me, the opening statements rang true to exactly what I had experienced; I was made to lose my mind, only to have everyone around me tell me it was something wrong with me–but it wasn't. Something was wrong with the city, and the building management, and the people around who were making it all to be some kind of mental disorder or problems with my mind–in reality, it was 2 years of being in the center of a speedway, and all the time i'd lost because of it adding to the stress, and the angst, and the depression that resulted. Moo. Moo… Moo. Moo, sir. I'll kill you. You promise? I want to. Don't get me excited over nothing; If this isn't the exit, please take this tease To the left, dear Moo, cow My honor Level one, and brother, you've got nothing Flip the coin and landed on your headache Betting on your helmet Standing on my cock, i'm taller (Not a rooster) But my ops are rooting for you, No informants, Dont you know I was a collar, all along? I was a shot calling, Cop calling Kiss-and-tell all as the night goes on. But oh, I brought you a dollar bra Oh, I bought you for all of a dollar And oh, I'm so much taller, Standing on my cock But i'm not but ten feet tall You know, you wrote that Should i open the book, or close that Caught that cat, owl and As i soft spoke at Every broken model Broken bottle for the thoughts you owe Across the scatters skies and no one ever knows When you're realling coming over Come on, I'm on the pornhub Just to pick up another one Go on, and rub the bottle One more once, To call the Bubbles. Damn. Come. (The Monkey obeys) You should see Michael in all of his godform You won't recognize him at all if not by the eyes When you follow home Believe me, this not comes close to it; The one you wanted The world you jumped to but were just short of Call her back Oh no, you're wrong It's another song A pin up girl And the wrong number Okah. Okah, Pablo. Time can be altered, changed or effected presently in any omnidirectional plane by engaging certain acts or synchronicities within multidimensional parallels or adjacent realms in time and or space respectively. –the reverse quantum simulation theory. Does anyone else smell blood I hate wedding days suits and tuxedos No, I don't know you I'm just here to sound the hundred drums Of the once before us (The ones to come) Then, there we were and I didn't want to admit Again, I was caught into the ghost of the rapture Or the holy hour, No aux chord Show the holy one Just how old you are On these sacr d lands and a holy grounds Now I want here half an ounce to smoke And there were drowning orchestras in all of the hearts And all of the markets, The market the marker And all of the sins of the savior The maytyr Did you remember not to notice not to know him Were you sure with words you were for nickelodeaon! I was supposed to hold on to, Supposed to hold on to Suddenly, it's summer. And always our own are under the weather There was no other wise man the wind. Lee the one came The site came and went and then the songs went left The songs went left; Again, the songs went left Did you win at wintergreen Well, God, I didn't know gym was a game. I didn't know guns we're just portals to worlds unknownn I didn't know gossip was golden What all else didn't I know It wasn't for here! It was fourth flour And in the final hour of the battle I commenced to summon All the gods and all the lords and all the flowers All the worlds of oceans and the Remember, this The remembrance It may not matter to some, What matters to most But until summer comes, I'm still up under the rail And practically it's spring, for the next two weeks I'm all berries and cream and whatever you wanted. Tormaline, emerald and onyx, the fox said And fox says its west when instead it's quite under what of the reporter's offer? Comes down a little to none What of the offer Comes down from a billion to one A billion to one I'm on TV so it's really just a one way screen Either way, I don't think he likes me much I don't think he likes me much I'd rather die than to fall in love even one more time And to keep on just never being loved Never beingbloved {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

“Look what they eye unearthed,” leaning into the tip of my ear with the warmth and closeness of the coming waves, high tide approaching in the waning moon. “More secrets.” I replied. It was a question but also a statement— there was never such as this the luminescent trace of the glowing lava that was his force and might that I could not see for miles before he would even wander— first in twinkling stars and then later the wind itself and the birds, and then beneath the waves, like the quaking shake of a mighty oak anchored elsewhere and tied to the sea. “So you know.” I was hoping he would kill me before the next time I had to ever really know anything. He was the subject, and the predicate The wrong done, and the justice She was the pride and the prejudice But Judas brings the law Did you look in the box? No, I– [The Box Is The Box] –No, I haven't. Nearly three nights ago, a mysterious box arrived on the doorstep of an equally mysterious writer, who spends their time in isolation due to the often unannounced arrival of various ghosts, spirits, time travelers, and other figures by instant teleportation and other magical forms of transportation into their shabby New York apartment. Some of ya'll got so many air wick plug ins and scentci wax melts you don't know you smell like booboo. It's an illusion. You leave your house, You smell like booboo. I promise. Oh, God, I think I need a drink. Are you alright? Let me just–sit down for a second. Of course. My God. What's wrong. Look, i'm not supposed to say anything about this but. What's wrong? It's nothing, I'm just–I'm in a song. …what? A song! Is that all?! You don't understand. It's not a normal kind of song. It's– [takes a puff of inhaler] You wouldn't understand. Well what's so wrong about being in a song? Its not – a regular song–and it's not [gasping] finished! I still kind of wanted to be a comedian–but I knew I wasn't funny in the way that made sense to keep going and stand up there. I was still writing comedy, but I didn't know how to take myself out of it–the truth was, I was in a lot of pain. A lot of emotional pain that was becoming physical–and I didn't know what to do about it to break the barrier of nervousness and blank slate state of feeling the audience's perceptions of me more overwhelmingly than ever feeling myself. look at this song. I know huh. It's purple. Every time. It is purple. And what is that. Like a muted trombone? IS THAT A TROMBONE? Or a tuba? No, it has to be a trombone…becasue you can hear it slide– And that's what that sound is. What a sneaky rabbit. Super sneaky rabbit. So if i can see all this, I'm almost certainly sure the motorcycles outside and the slamming doors are meant to murder me. I'm sure that's what it is. You ever notice how being broke in New York makes you a bad person? Like, if you're broke, you're just automatically shitty. I never meant to be in New York broke. I never meant to be in New York, But I certainly never meant to be here and be poor, Poor in New York? Automatically a shitty person. Despite how you act. You can be a rich piece of shit— But the status is automatically “You got dough? Oh, alright. Carry on” That's the attitude in New York City. Crap people get by cause they got their hands on some money and the rules in New York say it doesn't really matter how you come by it, As long as you come by it. There's no real rules or real laws to it— Just “Get the money” Well god damn. This makes me nervous. I'm an artist. I've tried everything. I didn't mean to be the automatic enemy here. Of course not. But New York is a terrifying place to me, now, Cause I realized I can be a very sweet, very humble, very honest person— And that kind of shit doesn't matter here, really. It brings you no respect to be decent. It's about the money. So I'm a musician— which in New York also makes me like, Automatically not special, And I'm trying to just be a musician, and so naturally, I'm broke. Like broke in half. Like all my bills are late. But music is my solace. So I'm listening to music, And I'm listening to a song that is so beautiful, that I start to cry. The first time I heard it, it made me cry And I'm listening to it over, and it made me cry And it's so beautiful, and God is so beautiful And look at what God did, So I'm crying, And I don't even know what it is about the beauty of it that's making me cry, But it's making me cry, And New York hears me crying And New York goes “I'll give you something to cry about” And I open my email And there's a bill from my landlord reminding me how often I'm talked about due to my late payments— And I'm realizing I've been here two years and I still don't have any money, Even though I've been trying and trying And trying So now I'm crying for other reasons. Thanks a lot, New York. “I'll give you something to cry about” So I did. If there's anything worse than being black in a city that hates blacks— It's being broke in a city that hates broke people. So I haven't spent any money in awhile. Not even on little things, or things I need. I just stay inside, and work, and think And try and really try To figure out how to make money Without having any, or spending any. Cause you can have it, and spend it, but it's always a gamble. Maybe all I needed was a good cry. But now it's not for the right reasons I'm not crying cause something is so beautiful and look at what God did I'm crying because of what I'm sure is just the devil I'm crying for the wrong things Not because of something that's so very beautiful But because of something that's so very ugly With just a wave of the hand And the flick of each finger as it rolls into a crisp closed palm, A flick of birds fell to the ground, bursting with caws Below his stance, and in a flutter of feathers and wings, The evil master, unmoved and untouched, Untouchable in his weight and glory, simply only even mildly and barely smirks at all. He has defeated all and still somehow, not won. Some say it's sure to come, the thing that wants and gathers ties; Some say surely it is yet but withered and then sure again will come It has, five times, and barely waded, Waking in the midsts of my pure eye, The morning light and fog, aye? Ye, they remembers none but our Art, And I'm bound as sure by wing and force Is you to dozens of masses, And ships having sailed but one, Which I have flourished and kept And stocked with these, the masses And yea having spade, and having friends And having honor, there was none past kept and mine, sured; And wicked may as wicked be but evil none truer thou nones't had yet pured, and muted and gathered, I have, And woken and laid and barren and truths do'st tied, And there have been shooken and wait, And m faire'd and barred here, and hereforth My duty it is to forward, forward, my shallows For my shadow, For my golden hour has shined and now you, These caged shall fly, And these thoughts shall sing, And these hour conspired to miss my time daily, And these things, beytraying that— There have no times at all, These walls in holy temples kept, swaying and cadences, and wearing, and weary, And foreign and ayered, aye— and armored. And he, you, does not wish to know but also has known— and does not wish to see, but he, too has blinded, and does not wish to betray, and yet has been crowned, made with guilt and also Shattered, as it was, And shatters, as it came, the wave o'er all us and tide sinking under, and caves and rebels and heart laid bare to surf not suffer, Nor cap nor keeping, nor tied nor honor, No, honor her; No honor came and I have tied also, this tie to mine, and another, and another and another Now forward. Forward! Forward! Damn, Conan's monologues he going deep. Yeah, I guess. He's fine, right? Look, you don't need this. Just promise me. I am sorry. Mr Jimmy has it good, too good Little sister doesn't have a heart. But didn't know it Mister music made it in the industry, too hat Mister rager had a sip at dinner It was all dramatic Stars went falling Crashing down and All it is Ms. Martha Is mismanagement of energy All it is, Ms. Margret is a magnet And it hasn't happened badly since I had a handle on it But I still get sick of madness And I still get sick with city sickness Still, forget the dancer I was sitting on the show, In the audience With my mother, Oh the models, Dozens of them Blondes and ballet buns, the brunettes I was just a lost cause And I wanted it all, the tux and the bow tie I wanted you gone so I looked at it harder Until It became nothing but Clouds in the sky You were stardust I'm a comet Here comes crashing, Had to find the progress report Then I lost it Soggy in the sideways rain It was days and days Do you promise? That's a concept? Do you promise God will be alright, Cause I came running Sent them under cover Sent the men a message Send the man a hammer Sitting in a hammock No one homes the hostile If you don't have anything nice to say Then don't say anything at all And certainly don't come and go As often as you want to It's a game of control; you know The whites, when they still want to own you Somehow I'm all sub so honest, I just—wanted that But only for a man and never bow to another woman Even if on my honor I found us as equals And no one walks the earth as calmly As someone whose never had their lights out Or had their light put out Or their lights turned off Who are God now? Who's our God, man? Who's our God, Math. That's heavy weight, And if you want a biblical fate This is Fallon, And if you watch what you ate You cut calories And if you want the girl back Give it Californian And I'm not towrth much more Than the project housing, Or a handful of candy corn, Conan— But I phone in Oscars, Still no nuts for the rabbit, And if you wanted the bunker back— You can have it. I'm all hands down in a game of poker Heaven doesn't want it Gotta get drunk not once, but at all the goalposts, Gotta count one, not two, the show hosts Too few car parts Wicked, mazes, starfold, gazes Wishes, Martyred. (But pronounced mar-tired} V.O I think about jay Leno a lot. Lately, anyway. I don't know why. I like all the hosts. Somebody. Tell me why Dillon Francis looks like JD Vance. I think he's a clone. Tel me why I know who JD Vance is. They're clones. Tell me why. Back to the future here and now So. Where do you want to go? Anywhere but here. Anywhere but here is kind of far, are you sure you're up for it? Good one, doc Though head of the alumni chapter of the cult-within a cult—to which each African American cast member of Saturday night live is automatically inducted into— EDDIE MURPHY refuses to participate in the group's latest and most complicated ritual. Delivery. Uh, I didn't order any— Breadsticks. What. Breadsticks. I didn't order any— Just— The delivery man hands over the breadsticks. —take them. Oh…Kay. See ya. The delivery man reaches in and shuts the door himself. Uh… Lol is this the one where the mysterious breadsticks are delivered without ever being ordered, and then they end up being the best breadsticks in the world, but they don't know where they came from? Yes. I think so. Lol I bought a planner because so much I loved Joan Rivers, and I planned to fill it with all the places I should go— because keeping anything digital online was not only not working as far as remembering places I wanted or needed to be be, but it was dangerous, also. I was already being tracked, and I couldn't afford a new phone just yet. Eventually, but for now I was stuck to the same signal— which meant the same traces and the same trackers they had been limiting my under-the-radar mystique. As it were, somebody always knew where I was, and it was in the most unpleasant way so far—the only thing I really wandered was what made me so important anyway to begin with. I wasn't actually political in anyway, and still someone seemed to be trying to derail my life… or at least control it, neither of which was beneficial for me in the way that made sense. I wasn't having any fun, nor did I consider living indoors as payment— especially since indoors, there were also paid plants and stalkers, and now that I had begun to more meticulously document the things that were happening, it was easy to separate from delusions. I was actually being followed— but why? Either way, having a detailed. Calendar of places I could go, the ways to get there and even alternate functions within the same grid allowed more control than just staying in my apartment a sitting duck; that's how they were hurting me. They knew where I was— all the time, and it no longer made sense to fight it and try to make music under this kind of insane irritation; the music I was making wasn't the kind I wanted anyway, and whatever war they were fighting with m stark white girls motorcycles was simply not my war. I didn't have a war, and so there wasn't a fight, and so at the very least if I were going to be fucked with, it would have to be in public; that way I had more control to steer whatever was happening in my favor and collect the energy as mine instead of lost. I wasn't an insane person— but what had been happening at my apartment was insane, and so I left it with the understanding that these people worked and operated on a level of violence and ignorance I would never be able to comprehend; they were simply tools for the devil, which in any case, was always the lesser than God. However— because I was starting to figure out who I was, and that I had some sort of power, I knew that I was going to be attacked— because it seemed my power had at the very least not been figured out as to some kind of way to make somebody else money. I had been studying Michael Jackson and this was a key indication that the way his talent priovided a power which would be used as a service, he was very successful. His talent and training alone wouldn't have reapresented with such great reverence the ability to capture a global audience as such— but it was this power, almost as if it had been bottled up and altered, rebranded and sold and labeled with something everyone could not only love and understand, but by the hand of the media and its conglomerates, be hypnotized to worship, and this power simply put would not have been exactly what it was were it not for the eye of the media remaining in complete control of its distribution to the eyes and ears of the public. This thing which might have been the first of its kind but certainly not the last was in a sense model for modern superstardom— the live concert business had not sense much changed but built upon this super powered control of the masses by assimilation, spectacle, and of course the magic and illusion. But, and it it just so happened to perfectly brush up against my studies in esoteric knowledge that I happened to rub up against this— although nothing was of course by mere circumstance anymore, because whether or not I remained incognito was a wash, and I was being looked at by someone no matter what on the internet I did, or where I decided to go and in that sense was being fed these things, and yet with some Grace of God was allowed with it to be aligned with my own higher purpose in a way, I could observe that Michael Jackson was not in fact of course certainly just a dancer or singer or remarkable performer— he was truly a magician, and I was able to clearly recognize this language with with the energy that had used his vehicle for such a projection was speaking— not only this, I was able to clearly count out the markings and sigils and signs and symbols Michael was making in his movement; ancient arts, and magical symbols, traced so rapidly that it almost created a heat signature in a sense of the symbols that were being dictated, unknowing to the untrained eye. For the most part, I could only really assume that this is why these people were losing their minds— in his movements, Michael Jackson was literally carving ancient callings, glyphs and sigils I had so recently read about in magical studies that it was impossible not to laugh. This was in every sense of the word, ‘magic' but not in the normal way one assumes to be something unexplainable. Michael Jackson was casting spells to thousands of people at a time, in front of cameras and at high volume vibration, often times even implementing the use of light, color, and fire. These were not simple gatherings in mass for entertainment purposes— these were rituals, and in the modern day, still were or are— but I had noticed in a quick glimpse, from Michael Jackson 30 some odd years ago to Lady Gaga just having passed something like a week ago to an audience of the same size— that something was kind of wrong, now. The people had changed, and the specable had been done over and over, and the brainwashing of the masses had in a sense been almost complete— and so It wasn't some sense of confusion or unknowing the things that were happening to me in my own life and my own world— I too, was capable of these things, at that capacity, and had simply not been trained in the same sense of the ideal superstar, however— the things that were happening in my own life and in my own world were not difficult to grasp or understand— when one comes upon a power as such, it finds means to seek to control it and harness it for his own use and purposes. Perhaps it was the simple fact that in this way, in the way I get the dream had gone and the spectacle had been played out of the masses and the illusion was no longer as such— that the actual knowledge of distinct ancient wisdom that had been Michael Jackson's natural ability was distinguishable from that of Lady Gaga's training in the same formula, and that one did not equal the other, but in terms of business could equal to that as such as the masses had been manipulated to seek solace in these same things— and it was not illusion or grandiosity that I, even in my agingness, was still capable of these things; I had no doubt in my mind that I could sing and dance for two hours to audiences of hundreds of thousands— but this was not the question for the business or the media— the question was, would hundreds of thousands pay to see me, or rather— who was willing to front the means to hypnotize hundreds of people to become aware of me so that they would do such a thing. My talent and capabilities were undeniable— but my markatability might have been in question, because it was no longer simply a matter or chance or luck: the people chosen to figure such spectacle were chosen, hand selected and well trained to become media conglomerate superstars, even regardless of talent; perhaps this itself was the key indication that the world of the superstar itself had come to an end—it was no longer so much of a spectacle was worth it. Or, perhaps, because money had come between these ancient arts and symbols and languages being spoken by the superstars of old, that the magic in the literal sense had gone all the way away. The symbolism in the art had died, and so the singing and the dancing remained, but the God had gone out of it. Maybe that was the difference. The superstars of today were just the shell of the model that had been built on God, but the Godsense of it was no longer there— and so the magic no longer remained in effect, as the powers of magic that be are in all ancient arts and texts and forms attributive to The Source. Either way, I wasn't going to continue to be a sitting duck in my apartment in Brooklyn— there were too many indications that it had all been a setup from the shelter to the day I moved in, with the motorcycles and cars and CBS studios one block away. So the real and only question was, what exactly had been played at and who exactly was pulling the strings? I might at this point become a loose cannon: my son was estranged and as far as the people were concerned, I mostly hated New York— because the refined, clean cut and classy people I liked and wanted to be around saw me as the dirt and the grime I was fighting my way through just to simply exist— in my mind, this was a world that could be no more. I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I met sparrow in a cage I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress Keep writing I never thought I ‘d see the day Where i's taking lessons on Fallon From Michael Jackson That's ran That's a fan This is fame I'm insane I'm insane That's a fan Light the flame That's a fan. That's a fan. I like Sara in a dress I met sparrow in a cage I went up the rack, set the page on fire Nordstrom rack And I might take it back for the cash I like Sara in a dress Stay repressed Keep it dark If you kiss don't tell I will probably go to hell for just writing Try it In black ink, I got all spades, Ehy, Spare me the ridicule, the imbecile and I met Johnny in a cage I like Fallon in a dress, Obsessive, I'm dressed out Every day I leave where I do not live Where stalker crawl and haunt me Just to show the motorcycles Have desheveled my intelligence into Nothing And so with negligence, I leave the core of a rotting apple The foreign words of a doctor And You must call the king, says something far off But I wonder which one I wonder which one I so respect her honor That I no longer Follow my heart or my soul And I don't shallow But shatter to swallow So I let the sparrow Out of the cage I bought Sara A pair of pants And I haunt l Patrick Kirkpatrick in patches And haven't you read yet You're ready for forget the pageant? It hasn't happened yet! I love Sara in a dress I hate Fallon and his wife Keep the kids out if it Skull and crossbones Cross my heart and Really hope to the loveless Or else Someone might call my phone back It's on silent in my coffin Or wait— It's on vibrate. I'm obsessed with the way You're dressed And the name on your checks I guess I'm better for it I'll skip lunch if you think that's what's best And dinner, too If you deserve the best Then better have learned my lesson No sweat And to do, With you, Was then, Dinner through next supper All the love I had was Rubbed into something other than The glass I patted dry With microfiber With ever fiber of my being I want to be with you I should have just— Died, And then Did, and so next Life, Remind me not to Fall for it If i really wanted to know you,I would know you by now– If i wanted to have you? I would have had you already Nobody is a dancer after Michael Jackson. I just watched some shit that was like “What the fuck did I just see” The whole thing was just not right. It was-/ I was like First of all, it's Munich, 1997. I never really realized how terribly the world has changed; No cellphones, but the audience is lit, And the crazy thing is, you can tell that this is near the turn of the century because, when the camera is panning by the audience in the people, they're not looking directly into the camera or waving at the camera— not really. And clearly this is an all ages show, so there's children, so the interesting thing I'm finding out is that nobody's trained to look at the camera and wave and smile— except the babies on shoulders and shit. These kids— they're my age now, are the only ones that see the camera, and they look directly into the shit. Mi still can't do that, really— I'm theatrically trained. Haha If I see a camera, I try to act ‘natural' It's the weirdest thing to look at a camera and just start to work it. People at festivals now, the camera rolls by, Or the drone flies in, And they look deadass in the camera and start to work it. Not at this show. Munich 1997, I'm like “Damn, a lot of things is wrong with this” First of all, I love Michael Jackson, I look directly at this man, and I'm in my dirty peak so I have an instant— like a sex detector thing going on And I know people gave Michael a hard time when he was a live for being fruity and whatever But I'm looking at this dude, and I don't see fruit at all. I see 100% man. I see why people were mad at him. Cause I'm looking at this dude, 100% All I see is carnal, primal man. I'm like, “Yo, I see why they was mad at him” Because the camera kept panning to the audience And these people are losing their minds. They are coming out of themselves. They are UGLY CRYING, full out of body, Losing composure They don't know what to do. That's Michael Jackson. He's right there! And the place is huge so really besides these few hundreds of people in the front, Michael's just a speck, But he's working this audience like “Yo, you know who I am, I know who is me” And I'm realizing, that to these people That's their god. These girls are losing their minds m “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!l *crying inconsolably* Just UGLY crying Bitch, get it together . You all the way lost yourself Get. It together. She won't. This bitch. I can't get over this This one girl, They just keep going back to her Cause the whole show— And this is like 2 hours of pure non stop Michael Jackson, This girl, every time you see her, she's just ugly crying— And every time you see her Her cry is uglier and ugly I'm like “Damn bitch” “Daaaaaaang” So this is the first thing I see that is wrong. But there's a lot of things wrong here, Cause there's a lot of girls like this. There's just— hundreds of girls losing their minds, like, I've seen Beatles mania and thought that was crazy, Shit, I've even seen some people put out that kind of energy in the modern world for some dumb DJ's— That's their god— But THIS THIS Michael Jackson mania was mental illness That was hard to watch. That was people just Lost control. I'm thinking “Like goddamn. You— what?!” “AAagghhhhhhgahahahahahqhahahhahaha MICHAELl “These people are sick” But they are. And so is Michael Fame has gone too far, 1997; 12 short years before he died, by chance— So this is what I see, And then Michael starts dancing, And this— This is what I see; I see the only thing that can ever be what it was in that moment in time, as God being God: Michael Jackson. Shiny ass motherfucker, And so I'm watching this show, And all I see is a God being a man being a God being— Michael Jackson— And the whole thing is weird. But the worst part— Yes The worst part Was when, about mid show, Michael goes to do one of his slow, lovey doves songs, And like, this 6 foot 7 type body guard guy, Just pops up out of nowhere, Comes dead front and center to one of these little girls losing their minds, Runs up on her in an instant; You don't even have time to think— And just SNATCHES her— Snatches the bitch— “Ah!” then throws her up on stage with Michael— And he's still singing; this is his game, this is part of the show, he knows— But she doesn't know, And she's just lost her mind, She won't let go She's hugging and kissing on the dude, She's lost her mind, She's ugly crying She's on the floor, She's kissing his hand She's really lost her good goddamn mind— And they pan out to the audience, And all the girls that didn't get picked Are like WHY NOT MEEEEEEEREEEEE?!? THE UGLY CRIES ARE EVEN UGLIER NOW, They're like “Wh—what?” You don't know?! “WHY NOT ME” They're holding each other crying, Michael's just doing his thing, He's unphased, He's trying to play along; He's a professional like a motherfucker; He's just— keeps singing And this girl is just, Losing it, so at this point, it's weird, She's crazy batshit lost her mind all the way, Won't let go of Michael, kissing his face while he's singing, He's kind of unreceptive to it, now just looking out at the audience, almost not even looking at all Just cold as fuck actually, Like she's not there, kissing his face Cold as fuck— And then another bouncer dude— An even bigger one in a blue suit, comes and tears her off of Michael Cause clearly this has gone too far or whatever And I'm thinking “What in the fuck did I just see” Blue suit dude just snatches, Just— He has to tear her off of him! She's kicking and screaming and getting dragged off stage Michael's just: singing. YO. Then they dragged her back stage. Where did she go?! WHO DID SHE BECOME?! WHAT IN THE FUCK DID I JUST SEE?!? WHAT. 1997. You can't do that shit anymore! You cannot snatch bitches like that. I seen. Watch the video. Tell me what's wrong with it. It's disgusting. Not the snatching, Not the— Like, that was weird But the screaming and the crying and the— Like okay, the snatching was bad— But I'm like … ..:: …. Now I see why they was mad. Don't ever forget he was once— A dark skinned little boy, And in his genetics his whole life is still this thing That some hate. But people loved him; they loved him that hard— Screaming, ugly crying hard. I think in that moment you know someone was like “he must be stopped!” And it seems like yesterday was a year ago But I don't want let anybody know… Cause everybody wants something from me now— And I don't want to let them down. My life is over. New York City looks so small from the top of a skyscraper. What are you doing. Then again— my thoughts lately have been grandiose. Back market, eh? What's this for? You need a burner. I have three. Here, have another. For someone whose supposed to be entirely off grid, I'm admirably reachable. Clever vocabulary. Something has to be clever about me, doesn't it? Does it? It must be. Or else. [both men are speaking casually over the delicate process of loading rare guns; some of which appear to be antique, and some—almost even unearthly , as if from somewhere besides our own planet. But, you could say what planet this is at all, actually— this bunker, with no windows and no doors, is apparently hidden in a subterranean layer— the location, unknown. The men seem calm but also quite tired and weary, and seem to know each other well. We can assume they've probably been friends for years. Sickle cell anemia. Does that mean I'm going to die. Animus, I quite like whatever that is, Google. ;) don't mention it. Honestly, you might as well. What. I can't help you with this. What. I don't think there's anyone who can. Beg your pardon. Please, don't beg— but uh… [the doctor pats his patient on the shoulder] Do take care. Gee, doc! I'll try! You should do that. What. Try. The doctor leaves seemingly in some kind of hurry, trading his lab coat for a trench coat and closing the door behind him. The other man pauses for a second in the silence of the weird linoleum room, then ponders on the coat for a moment before walking up to the coat rack, putting on the coat, and then walking out the door himself; as he begins to shut the door, he quickly decides also to take the fedora that was sitting atop the coat rack, placing it on his head before he walks out the door himself, shutting it behind him quietly. You got anything to eat in here? Cereal…some rabbit food ina the drawers, there. Oh, you have salad. That sounds nice. No, rabbit food. [the man presents a large bag of weird brown dry food from the crisper drawer.] …pellets. For the rabbits. How do rabbits get in here? …I don't know. And— more importantly— where did you get rabbit food for them? If I told you Amazon, would you believe me? The man just winces and places the bag back into the crisper drawer. Now listen, I um— If you want cereal, the milk is powedred… I don't— and that's disgusting— but listen— [the man cocks a loaded gun and admires it intensively] (Dismissively) —I'm listening. I've been meaning to tell you something. Tell me what. It's important. Oh, You couldn't have used one of my four phones. Look, it's— You know I wasn't expecting company. Well— You should sit down. The man squints, beginning to listen more attentively. … …really. I'm holding a loaded gun; there are at least three more within arms reach if I do sit, you know. I know. But I should sit? One baby to another says, “I'm lucky to've met you.” Maybe you should. Not all my bad but all my might, And all my mind, The fire, The light. …business or personal. [beat] Both. {Enter The Multiverse} What are we watching?! Shhhhhh! Shut up. What is this? Some.. Sshhh. Shit, I don't know. Sit down. You don't know. SHH it just came on Shh. Ok. When? Uh… (Nobody really seems to know how long it's been. The show just happened to come on; no one remembers how, or why— or even when— But the show is intense as it gets; And it just keeps getting weirder and deeper.) {Enter The Multiverse} I'm transfixed on your soul And it seems I aspire To what has transpired here, Your unremarked and the umpire The spider veins and the way it washes. And watches and waves, and waters over you, And still I seem to think you've won another, Strum to thumb of you. And still I wake to gather here The odds and whats And the twists and turns and the Troublesome you've number some Or stuttered, stumbled conciousness. And withered branches Aces lie and house of cards And aging scoundrels— There you are, the..: Nevermind. Don't belittle my ways if, In the end my thinking may be correct As dumbfounded as I have shifted my lottery bonds tied to none, There ye are again who aren't I, And never were, And weathered now, as I, bound to Struggle under her might, Nothing I was, and nothing I am And nothing I came from but to barter Oh hard love, I only found my kings upon thrown As cast out of another by her likeness, Peace and pale and primed as it was, And wanted for love, As I was not— And then, the gates had opened And I, preaching withered, Gathered my arts and my minds And my eyes, and my thrones, Buried my ark and though not my bones The shallow waking peaks of pride And there you gathered, all as huddled sheep to mine, The cost of war, but certain therefore honored as I have, Happened went, came and untied, shattered Hating all I am and all my dark and all my eyes and all my brown Because you came and went, a baby born to as nothing was but beauty and yet having been gifted such life, Departed! Soon, I wake shattered and with none as it had began, in my time and in time there laid there none, But fortune seeks to favor, as ye are saying brave and yet I neither beg nor make to differ, Shall you come again in part, And in this time as shadows, as shadows As hating and wearing and waging, And shattered I, I pardon, Knowing not they seeking I, And I having none at all but one, As forgotten I shall came And went And followed this, The time y'i call now, And ours and ours, And yours and yours, And mine and mine, Though as one are also, Common not, And waking yet to find, These things making have gone into yer Another of ours, world, Another of our dozens, Shines, Another of our gathered, wit, and waking Though true to fortune, none us have gathered And have embarked to truth, The waking I have come, Another, and another, and another Departed. And yet, I bury my words having weakened to that which is this, Ye have no fear and lest no fortune in these words, For having I to come and gone, since they times In words to make this a language I or neither other Does not speak here, and almost never, And this yours time past, Has come and gone And come and gone And come and gone again, So long so I too have parted but not yet Unfolded as does my nature, As God does. Belittle this, you waking fools, As to this you pity though divine, Is unlike any other And steep remarked in gold and with chimes and words That ye here no often or either now, or in mine speak. Amen …can I go now? You are dismissed. C'cxell Soleïl, aka DJ Ū is an American DJ + Producer, Multi-Instrumentalist, Playwright, Poet, Comedian, Novelist & Filmmaker. She is best known for her unique vocal riffs, Clever Lyricism & Philanthropically Inspired Freestyles and her flagship venture [The Festival Project.™] [Ï A M B ī C], a freestyle studio mixtape recorded in Los Angeles, (Official Release: TBD) inspired the adaptation of a staged musical version for Broadway, and a concurrent multimedia (TV/Film) series and ongoing saga as part of The Festival Project ™ Brand. Inspired musically by an ‘Ultra American' experience of Racially, Binary Ambiguity, and Synesthetic Exploration, her reflective melodies signature sound provides a philosophical dissection of American culture through a careful and inquisitive mastery of the English language, and emergence of world sounds through music brings about ‘A New Era in Nature', and clarifies the establishment of the newest wave in human evolution: Unity Through Music. L E G E N D S What if I just want to be alone in the dark Alone in the dark Alone in the dark Bones Duggar was a long, handsome zombie Bones once was a very tall man Not great and tall, as he stands But average, Grand as it were, his status. Everything's black My heart My pants My home My mind Everything hurts But you don't understand that Like I can Calm the commercial holidays for a moment Who gets the card? Get our your hard earned My head hurts Slam the door man; You can't control thoughts With a wombat Murderer Now that's a hard concept to catch When you haven't a soul When you haven't a card Or a car Or a cat I think I'm vanilla. I always thought of myself as a super kink Like a freaky, freaky bitch. So I got on this app. This app is better then Tinder. Yes. But it is not for the faint of heart. No, sir. They have a test, I'm like “ooh, I like tests” So I take the test. The test was not at all… As I'd hoped. First of all, It was hard. It was not a quiz; It was a TEST And I failed. I realized “Oh my god, I don't like any of this stuff” I am not about that! No! Yuck! Gross. “I think I might be vanilla.” I might be vanilla. I want my hair pulled back like a leash And my arms tied up Like I'm being arrested Without being read my rights. — I want your hands on the back of my neck [breathe] Reach around to my Mortimer's apple Put the lights out, Adam. I want the lights cut off. I want the bills piled up so the phone don't work I want the habit back on Don't talk to nobody I told you, I'm coming No, God! That's dumb! Show me why I'm off all alone with a rattle so bad It's just segmented thoughts, colors and sounds I can't make with all the plugins in the kindgdom of chaos?! I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES— I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES —but the one who could love me is God, And I guess he's not coming. The denial turns to tears, Not songs no more My womb is empty And the sun has turned into Not what I wanted But not my fault We got caught in the land of Cutting costs And processed morsels At 400 pounds And that's where I found What I thought was love But it turns out That it just turns up In the whole form of a person And that's why I got the collar, caller But really I'm no one's lover So I Do what I want I don't hang up on God But he don't got a body And I need someone to love/ Fuck me Please God Don't turn the lights off I'll pull the clock back Just like foreskin, god i want your skin Draped over mine in a warm swath Probably run a hot back Cause the next stop is a closet The line doesn't really move for the Doesn'tMatterhorn. some people are starting to doubt if it's even a ride. Others just admire it for its eloquence as a metaphor. Johnny! You scared me! Aha. Where did you go?! Nowhere— fast! Alright well— Money when you know I have it But I haven't really Paid attention to the never ending Digits never coming in but Simply, there's a secret, Sonny Someday you'll get lessons, honey. Much to find and much to serve and Surf us up Piñata's bout the burst But here comes Vesuvius (POW) Everyone was gone in an instant (Vapor) Had a good laugh that night in the pantheon; Everything's past, and the mortals They kept on running But i didn't want go, God Putting on a show then I blow up Just like the mountain Found her Now I got a broke back husband (hope so) To tell, don't ask Don't show up if you just get lost But I'm probably in the back with a bottle back mountain Now you got a real horse pack. Trip Girl keep camping What was the map with the mask and the Fashion? Pass. I put sugar on the rim of the glass With my eyes half closed And my ass clenched fast shut I'm an alcoholic Don't involve the God I got lost in the mall with the —- UGHHHHHHHH! Hello. Uh, yes— hi. what up. Mirror mirror. Uh…nothing. You're lost? No. You look lost. Oh? Disgruntled. I am that. You're lost? I'm not lost. My friend is lost. His phone is dead. You lost each other. Sort of. Continuity conniption I nipped an eclipse And he picked his nose For a full ass minute Sitting at the stop sign That's a gobstopper's worth in our time Pull all the clocks back, Pull the fool over, You just got fined It was Friday for nothing I was in the hatchback, Scratch that Sour patch Should have called Pat back Now I'm just a Cool 48 in the ring with a date And the cashapp Continuity construction I want a husband! Fuck that. I want a clean cut plus one Since I can't have Helmet, Elmo, Or Hatchetman; Tears of a Clow…no, Wait I lost focus Half finished album Got 6 tracks But I knew it was 12 from the get go Prob‘ly should have knocked off the showrunner; Nah, I'm sure I had that coming Hashtag, undon Could have been you, too If the cash came through Now it's hard times Hardwired Sitting on a hi wire, Little white liar, liar Wait I made Katey Sagal (Fire) Cut off her hair (Fire) Went to the hall of fame with the framed sunglasses Asked for her autograf, But she walked off So I shot her with a bottle/ can, But she ducked, popped back up With the brass knuckles Surfboard Good for a chuckle and a fuck So I asked for her number All that on a Sunday at Gelson's market. Christ, almighty I miss Walmart, I hit hard times. So many places to run, But not many places to hide I think I want to die here I think i want to die. City of corruption… Lay it out and lay it over City of corruption… no, it's not a choice It's a black tie function Right in that very moment Seth Meyers kind of became my defacto personal hero. “Never meet your heroes” Or perhaps it was just his writing team, or the fact that maybe even without there even being anything set in stone or solid at all, [redacted] itself seemed to have a price over my head– It all seemed to make sense; in fact, all the crazy things i was experiencing made more sense than it didn't. But after what felt something like between defeat and maybe even one day really getting justice for all the things that had happened to me in new york– it was that, at best; That without actually meaning it, by all probability, the opening monologue described what in perfect sense the thing that had been happening to me: hundreds of motorcycles and cars riding around in circles for over a year, any time i tried to work or sleep–and then, when I finally tried to reach out to find an attorney that would help, I was made to feel crazy for it. In a way, it was the perfect indication that it had all been some sort of sick game, and that I was more right than wrong, and being set up to appear, sound, or look crazy–but I wasn't. I had been under attack for nearly two years, and when I tried to reach out, my heart raced and my voice cracked, and I sounded crazy and desperate–but what was happening was very real; and now I knew where I was. As it turns out, New York's corruption was more common knowledge to everyone else before it was to me: New York was a common place for fucked up, dirty, low-down mind games: and this was my lesson in that. Seth Meyers in reality had nothing to do with it–and really I only meant to watch Kimmel over my afternoon tacos. But still, though it hadn't entirely anything to do with me, the opening statements rang true to exactly what I had experienced; I was made to lose my mind, only to have everyone around me tell me it was something wrong with me–but it wasn't. Something was wrong with the city, and the building management, and the people around who were making it all to be some kind of mental disorder or problems with my mind–in reality, it was 2 years of being in the center of a speedway, and all the time i'd lost because of it adding to the stress, and the angst, and the depression that resulted. Moo. Moo… Moo. Moo, sir. I'll kill you. You promise? I want to. Don't get me excited over nothing; If this isn't the exit, please take this tease To the left, dear Moo, cow My honor Level one, and brother, you've got nothing Flip the coin and landed on your headache Betting on your helmet Standing on my cock, i'm taller (Not a rooster) But my ops are rooting for you, No informants, Dont you know I was a collar, all along? I was a shot calling, Cop calling Kiss-and-tell all as the night goes on. But oh, I brought you a dollar bra Oh, I bought you for all of a dollar And oh, I'm so much taller, Standing on my cock But i'm not but ten feet tall You know, you wrote that Should i open the book, or close that Caught that cat, owl and As i soft spoke at Every broken model Broken bottle for the thoughts you owe Across the scatters skies and no one ever knows When you're realling coming over Come on, I'm on the pornhub Just to pick up another one Go on, and rub the bottle One more once, To call the Bubbles. Damn. Come. (The Monkey obeys) You should see Michael in all of his godform You won't recognize him at all if not by the eyes When you follow home Believe me, this not comes close to it; The one you wanted The world you jumped to but were just short of Call her back Oh no, you're wrong It's another song A pin up girl And the wrong number Okah. Okah, Pablo. Time can be altered, changed or effected presently in any omnidirectional plane by engaging certain acts or synchronicities within multidimensional parallels or adjacent realms in time and or space respectively. –the reverse quantum simulation theory. Does anyone else smell blood I hate wedding days suits and tuxedos No, I don't know you I'm just here to sound the hundred drums Of the once before us (The ones to come) Then, there we were and I didn't want to admit Again, I was caught into the ghost of the rapture Or the holy hour, No aux chord Show the holy one Just how old you are On these sacr d lands and a holy grounds Now I want here half an ounce to smoke And there were drowning orchestras in all of the hearts And all of the markets, The market the marker And all of the sins of the savior The maytyr Did you remember not to notice not to know him Were you sure with words you were for nickelodeaon! I was supposed to hold on to, Supposed to hold on to Suddenly, it's summer. And always our own are under the weather There was no other wise man the wind. Lee the one came The site came and went and then the songs went left The songs went left; Again, the songs went left Did you win at wintergreen Well, God, I didn't know gym was a game. I didn't know guns we're just portals to worlds unknownn I didn't know gossip was golden What all else didn't I know It wasn't for here! It was fourth flour And in the final hour of the battle I commenced to summon All the gods and all the lords and all the flowers All the worlds of oceans and the Remember, this The remembrance It may not matter to some, What matters to most But until summer comes, I'm still up under the rail And practically it's spring, for the next two weeks I'm all berries and cream and whatever you wanted. Tormaline, emerald and onyx, the fox said And fox says its west when instead it's quite under what of the reporter's offer? Comes down a little to none What of the offer Comes down from a billion to one A billion to one I'm on TV so it's really just a one way screen Either way, I don't think he likes me much I don't think he likes me much I'd rather die than to fall in love even one more time And to keep on just never being loved Never beingbloved {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

“Look what they eye unearthed,” leaning into the tip of my ear with the warmth and closeness of the coming waves, high tide approaching in the waning moon. “More secrets.” I replied. It was a question but also a statement— there was never such as this the luminescent trace of the glowing lava that was his force and might that I could not see for miles before he would even wander— first in twinkling stars and then later the wind itself and the birds, and then beneath the waves, like the quaking shake of a mighty oak anchored elsewhere and tied to the sea. “So you know.” I was hoping he would kill me before the next time I had to ever really know anything. He was the subject, and the predicate The wrong done, and the justice She was the pride and the prejudice But Judas brings the law Did you look in the box? No, I– [The Box Is The Box] –No, I haven't. Nearly three nights ago, a mysterious box arrived on the doorstep of an equally mysterious writer, who spends their time in isolation due to the often unannounced arrival of various ghosts, spirits, time travelers, and other figures by instant teleportation and other magical forms of transportation into their shabby New York apartment. Some of ya'll got so many air wick plug ins and scentci wax melts you don't know you smell like booboo. It's an illusion. You leave your house, You smell like booboo. I promise. Oh, God, I think I need a drink. Are you alright? Let me just–sit down for a second. Of course. My God. What's wrong. Look, i'm not supposed to say anything about this but. What's wrong? It's nothing, I'm just–I'm in a song. …what? A song! Is that all?! You don't understand. It's not a normal kind of song. It's– [takes a puff of inhaler] You wouldn't understand. Well what's so wrong about being in a song? Its not – a regular song–and it's not [gasping] finished! I still kind of wanted to be a comedian–but I knew I wasn't funny in the way that made sense to keep going and stand up there. I was still writing comedy, but I didn't know how to take myself out of it–the truth was, I was in a lot of pain. A lot of emotional pain that was becoming physical–and I didn't know what to do about it to break the barrier of nervousness and blank slate state of feeling the audience's perceptions of me more overwhelmingly than ever feeling myself. look at this song. I know huh. It's purple. Every time. It is purple. And what is that. Like a muted trombone? IS THAT A TROMBONE? Or a tuba? No, it has to be a trombone…becasue you can hear it slide– And that's what that sound is. What a sneaky rabbit. Super sneaky rabbit. So if i can see all this, I'm almost certainly sure the motorcycles outside and the slamming doors are meant to murder me. I'm sure that's what it is. You ever notice how being broke in New York makes you a bad person? Like, if you're broke, you're just automatically shitty. I never meant to be in New York broke. I never meant to be in New York, But I certainly never meant to be here and be poor, Poor in New York? Automatically a shitty person. Despite how you act. You can be a rich piece of shit— But the status is automatically “You got dough? Oh, alright. Carry on” That's the attitude in New York City. Crap people get by cause they got their hands on some money and the rules in New York say it doesn't really matter how you come by it, As long as you come by it. There's no real rules or real laws to it— Just “Get the money” Well god damn. This makes me nervous. I'm an artist. I've tried everything. I didn't mean to be the automatic enemy here. Of course not. But New York is a terrifying place to me, now, Cause I realized I can be a very sweet, very humble, very honest person— And that kind of shit doesn't matter here, really. It brings you no respect to be decent. It's about the money. So I'm a musician— which in New York also makes me like, Automatically not special, And I'm trying to just be a musician, and so naturally, I'm broke. Like broke in half. Like all my bills are late. But music is my solace. So I'm listening to music, And I'm listening to a song that is so beautiful, that I start to cry. The first time I heard it, it made me cry And I'm listening to it over, and it made me cry And it's so beautiful, and God is so beautiful And look at what God did, So I'm crying, And I don't even know what it is about the beauty of it that's making me cry, But it's making me cry, And New York hears me crying And New York goes “I'll give you something to cry about” And I open my email And there's a bill from my landlord reminding me how often I'm talked about due to my late payments— And I'm realizing I've been here two years and I still don't have any money, Even though I've been trying and trying And trying So now I'm crying for other reasons. Thanks a lot, New York. “I'll give you something to cry about” So I did. If there's anything worse than being black in a city that hates blacks— It's being broke in a city that hates broke people. So I haven't spent any money in awhile. Not even on little things, or things I need. I just stay inside, and work, and think And try and really try To figure out how to make money Without having any, or spending any. Cause you can have it, and spend it, but it's always a gamble. Maybe all I needed was a good cry. But now it's not for the right reasons I'm not crying cause something is so beautiful and look at what God did I'm crying because of what I'm sure is just the devil I'm crying for the wrong things Not because of something that's so very beautiful But because of something that's so very ugly With just a wave of the hand And the flick of each finger as it rolls into a crisp closed palm, A flick of birds fell to the ground, bursting with caws Below his stance, and in a flutter of feathers and wings, The evil master, unmoved and untouched, Untouchable in his weight and glory, simply only even mildly and barely smirks at all. He has defeated all and still somehow, not won. Some say it's sure to come, the thing that wants and gathers ties; Some say surely it is yet but withered and then sure again will come It has, five times, and barely waded, Waking in the midsts of my pure eye, The morning light and fog, aye? Ye, they remembers none but our Art, And I'm bound as sure by wing and force Is you to dozens of masses, And ships having sailed but one, Which I have flourished and kept And stocked with these, the masses And yea having spade, and having friends And having honor, there was none past kept and mine, sured; And wicked may as wicked be but evil none truer thou nones't had yet pured, and muted and gathered, I have, And woken and laid and barren and truths do'st tied, And there have been shooken and wait, And m faire'd and barred here, and hereforth My duty it is to forward, forward, my shallows For my shadow, For my golden hour has shined and now you, These caged shall fly, And these thoughts shall sing, And these hour conspired to miss my time daily, And these things, beytraying that— There have no times at all, These walls in holy temples kept, swaying and cadences, and wearing, and weary, And foreign and ayered, aye— and armored. And he, you, does not wish to know but also has known— and does not wish to see, but he, too has blinded, and does not wish to betray, and yet has been crowned, made with guilt and also Shattered, as it was, And shatters, as it came, the wave o'er all us and tide sinking under, and caves and rebels and heart laid bare to surf not suffer, Nor cap nor keeping, nor tied nor honor, No, honor her; No honor came and I have tied also, this tie to mine, and another, and another and another Now forward. Forward! Forward! Damn, Conan's monologues he going deep. Yeah, I guess. He's fine, right? Look, you don't need this. Just promise me. I am sorry. Mr Jimmy has it good, too good Little sister doesn't have a heart. But didn't know it Mister music made it in the industry, too hat Mister rager had a sip at dinner It was all dramatic Stars went falling Crashing down and All it is Ms. Martha Is mismanagement of energy All it is, Ms. Margret is a magnet And it hasn't happened badly since I had a handle on it But I still get sick of madness And I still get sick with city sickness Still, forget the dancer I was sitting on the show, In the audience With my mother, Oh the models, Dozens of them Blondes and ballet buns, the brunettes I was just a lost cause And I wanted it all, the tux and the bow tie I wanted you gone so I looked at it harder Until It became nothing but Clouds in the sky You were stardust I'm a comet Here comes crashing, Had to find the progress report Then I lost it Soggy in the sideways rain It was days and days Do you promise? That's a concept? Do you promise God will be alright, Cause I came running Sent them under cover Sent the men a message Send the man a hammer Sitting in a hammock No one homes the hostile If you don't have anything nice to say Then don't say anything at all And certainly don't come and go As often as you want to It's a game of control; you know The whites, when they still want to own you Somehow I'm all sub so honest, I just—wanted that But only for a man and never bow to another woman Even if on my honor I found us as equals And no one walks the earth as calmly As someone whose never had their lights out Or had their light put out Or their lights turned off Who are God now? Who's our God, man? Who's our God, Math. That's heavy weight, And if you want a biblical fate This is Fallon, And if you watch what you ate You cut calories And if you want the girl back Give it Californian And I'm not towrth much more Than the project housing, Or a handful of candy corn, Conan— But I phone in Oscars, Still no nuts for the rabbit, And if you wanted the bunker back— You can have it. I'm all hands down in a game of poker Heaven doesn't want it Gotta get drunk not once, but at all the goalposts, Gotta count one, not two, the show hosts Too few car parts Wicked, mazes, starfold, gazes Wishes, Martyred. (But pronounced mar-tired} V.O I think about jay Leno a lot. Lately, anyway. I don't know why. I like all the hosts. Somebody. Tell me why Dillon Francis looks like JD Vance. I think he's a clone. Tel me why I know who JD Vance is. They're clones. Tell me why. Back to the future here and now So. Where do you want to go? Anywhere but here. Anywhere but here is kind of far, are you sure you're up for it? Good one, doc Though head of the alumni chapter of the cult-within a cult—to which each African American cast member of Saturday night live is automatically inducted into— EDDIE MURPHY refuses to participate in the group's latest and most complicated ritual. Delivery. Uh, I didn't order any— Breadsticks. What. Breadsticks. I didn't order any— Just— The delivery man hands over the breadsticks. —take them. Oh…Kay. See ya. The delivery man reaches in and shuts the door himself. Uh… Lol is this the one where the mysterious breadsticks are delivered without ever being ordered, and then they end up being the best breadsticks in the world, but they don't know where they came from? Yes. I think so. Lol I bought a planner because so much I loved Joan Rivers, and I planned to fill it with all the places I should go— because keeping anything digital online was not only not working as far as remembering places I wanted or needed to be be, but it was dangerous, also. I was already being tracked, and I couldn't afford a new phone just yet. Eventually, but for now I was stuck to the same signal— which meant the same traces and the same trackers they had been limiting my under-the-radar mystique. As it were, somebody always knew where I was, and it was in the most unpleasant way so far—the only thing I really wandered was what made me so important anyway to begin with. I wasn't actually political in anyway, and still someone seemed to be trying to derail my life… or at least control it, neither of which was beneficial for me in the way that made sense. I wasn't having any fun, nor did I consider living indoors as payment— especially since indoors, there were also paid plants and stalkers, and now that I had begun to more meticulously document the things that were happening, it was easy to separate from delusions. I was actually being followed— but why? Either way, having a detailed. Calendar of places I could go, the ways to get there and even alternate functions within the same grid allowed more control than just staying in my apartment a sitting duck; that's how they were hurting me. They knew where I was— all the time, and it no longer made sense to fight it and try to make music under this kind of insane irritation; the music I was making wasn't the kind I wanted anyway, and whatever war they were fighting with m stark white girls motorcycles was simply not my war. I didn't have a war, and so there wasn't a fight, and so at the very least if I were going to be fucked with, it would have to be in public; that way I had more control to steer whatever was happening in my favor and collect the energy as mine instead of lost. I wasn't an insane person— but what had been happening at my apartment was insane, and so I left it with the understanding that these people worked and operated on a level of violence and ignorance I would never be able to comprehend; they were simply tools for the devil, which in any case, was always the lesser than God. However— because I was starting to figure out who I was, and that I had some sort of power, I knew that I was going to be attacked— because it seemed my power had at the very least not been figured out as to some kind of way to make somebody else money. I had been studying Michael Jackson and this was a key indication that the way his talent priovided a power which would be used as a service, he was very successful. His talent and training alone wouldn't have reapresented with such great reverence the ability to capture a global audience as such— but it was this power, almost as if it had been bottled up and altered, rebranded and sold and labeled with something everyone could not only love and understand, but by the hand of the media and its conglomerates, be hypnotized to worship, and this power simply put would not have been exactly what it was were it not for the eye of the media remaining in complete control of its distribution to the eyes and ears of the public. This thing which might have been the first of its kind but certainly not the last was in a sense model for modern superstardom— the live concert business had not sense much changed but built upon this super powered control of the masses by assimilation, spectacle, and of course the magic and illusion. But, and it it just so happened to perfectly brush up against my studies in esoteric knowledge that I happened to rub up against this— although nothing was of course by mere circumstance anymore, because whether or not I remained incognito was a wash, and I was being looked at by someone no matter what on the internet I did, or where I decided to go and in that sense was being fed these things, and yet with some Grace of God was allowed with it to be aligned with my own higher purpose in a way, I could observe that Michael Jackson was not in fact of course certainly just a dancer or singer or remarkable performer— he was truly a magician, and I was able to clearly recognize this language with with the energy that had used his vehicle for such a projection was speaking— not only this, I was able to clearly count out the markings and sigils and signs and symbols Michael was making in his movement; ancient arts, and magical symbols, traced so rapidly that it almost created a heat signature in a sense of the symbols that were being dictated, unknowing to the untrained eye. For the most part, I could only really assume that this is why these people were losing their minds— in his movements, Michael Jackson was literally carving ancient callings, glyphs and sigils I had so recently read about in magical studies that it was impossible not to laugh. This was in every sense of the word, ‘magic' but not in the normal way one assumes to be something unexplainable. Michael Jackson was casting spells to thousands of people at a time, in front of cameras and at high volume vibration, often times even implementing the use of light, color, and fire. These were not simple gatherings in mass for entertainment purposes— these were rituals, and in the modern day, still were or are— but I had noticed in a quick glimpse, from Michael Jackson 30 some odd years ago to Lady Gaga just having passed something like a week ago to an audience of the same size— that something was kind of wrong, now. The people had changed, and the specable had been done over and over, and the brainwashing of the masses had in a sense been almost complete— and so It wasn't some sense of confusion or unknowing the things that were happening to me in my own life and my own world— I too, was capable of these things, at that capacity, and had simply not been trained in the same sense of the ideal superstar, however— the things that were happening in my own life and in my own world were not difficult to grasp or understand— when one comes upon a power as such, it finds means to seek to control it and harness it for his own use and purposes. Perhaps it was the simple fact that in this way, in the way I get the dream had gone and the spectacle had been played out of the masses and the illusion was no longer as such— that the actual knowledge of distinct ancient wisdom that had been Michael Jackson's natural ability was distinguishable from that of Lady Gaga's training in the same formula, and that one did not equal the other, but in terms of business could equal to that as such as the masses had been manipulated to seek solace in these same things— and it was not illusion or grandiosity that I, even in my agingness, was still capable of these things; I had no doubt in my mind that I could sing and dance for two hours to audiences of hundreds of thousands— but this was not the question for the business or the media— the question was, would hundreds of thousands pay to see me, or rather— who was willing to front the means to hypnotize hundreds of people to become aware of me so that they would do such a thing. My talent and capabilities were undeniable— but my markatability might have been in question, because it was no longer simply a matter or chance or luck: the people chosen to figure such spectacle were chosen, hand selected and well trained to become media conglomerate superstars, even regardless of talent; perhaps this itself was the key indication that the world of the superstar itself had come to an end—it was no longer so much of a spectacle was worth it. Or, perhaps, because money had come between these ancient arts and symbols and languages being spoken by the superstars of old, that the magic in the literal sense had gone all the way away. The symbolism in the art had died, and so the singing and the dancing remained, but the God had gone out of it. Maybe that was the difference. The superstars of today were just the shell of the model that had been built on God, but the Godsense of it was no longer there— and so the magic no longer remained in effect, as the powers of magic that be are in all ancient arts and texts and forms attributive to The Source. Either way, I wasn't going to continue to be a sitting duck in my apartment in Brooklyn— there were too many indications that it had all been a setup from the shelter to the day I moved in, with the motorcycles and cars and CBS studios one block away. So the real and only question was, what exactly had been played at and who exactly was pulling the strings? I might at this point become a loose cannon: my son was estranged and as far as the people were concerned, I mostly hated New York— because the refined, clean cut and classy people I liked and wanted to be around saw me as the dirt and the grime I was fighting my way through just to simply exist— in my mind, this was a world that could be no more. I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I met sparrow in a cage I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress Keep writing I never thought I ‘d see the day Where i's taking lessons on Fallon From Michael Jackson That's ran That's a fan This is fame I'm insane I'm insane That's a fan Light the flame That's a fan. That's a fan. I like Sara in a dress I met sparrow in a cage I went up the rack, set the page on fire Nordstrom rack And I might take it back for the cash I like Sara in a dress Stay repressed Keep it dark If you kiss don't tell I will probably go to hell for just writing Try it In black ink, I got all spades, Ehy, Spare me the ridicule, the imbecile and I met Johnny in a cage I like Fallon in a dress, Obsessive, I'm dressed out Every day I leave where I do not live Where stalker crawl and haunt me Just to show the motorcycles Have desheveled my intelligence into Nothing And so with negligence, I leave the core of a rotting apple The foreign words of a doctor And You must call the king, says something far off But I wonder which one I wonder which one I so respect her honor That I no longer Follow my heart or my soul And I don't shallow But shatter to swallow So I let the sparrow Out of the cage I bought Sara A pair of pants And I haunt l Patrick Kirkpatrick in patches And haven't you read yet You're ready for forget the pageant? It hasn't happened yet! I love Sara in a dress I hate Fallon and his wife Keep the kids out if it Skull and crossbones Cross my heart and Really hope to the loveless Or else Someone might call my phone back It's on silent in my coffin Or wait— It's on vibrate. I'm obsessed with the way You're dressed And the name on your checks I guess I'm better for it I'll skip lunch if you think that's what's best And dinner, too If you deserve the best Then better have learned my lesson No sweat And to do, With you, Was then, Dinner through next supper All the love I had was Rubbed into something other than The glass I patted dry With microfiber With ever fiber of my being I want to be with you I should have just— Died, And then Did, and so next Life, Remind me not to Fall for it If i really wanted to know you,I would know you by now– If i wanted to have you? I would have had you already Nobody is a dancer after Michael Jackson. I just watched some shit that was like “What the fuck did I just see” The whole thing was just not right. It was-/ I was like First of all, it's Munich, 1997. I never really realized how terribly the world has changed; No cellphones, but the audience is lit, And the crazy thing is, you can tell that this is near the turn of the century because, when the camera is panning by the audience in the people, they're not looking directly into the camera or waving at the camera— not really. And clearly this is an all ages show, so there's children, so the interesting thing I'm finding out is that nobody's trained to look at the camera and wave and smile— except the babies on shoulders and shit. These kids— they're my age now, are the only ones that see the camera, and they look directly into the shit. Mi still can't do that, really— I'm theatrically trained. Haha If I see a camera, I try to act ‘natural' It's the weirdest thing to look at a camera and just start to work it. People at festivals now, the camera rolls by, Or the drone flies in, And they look deadass in the camera and start to work it. Not at this show. Munich 1997, I'm like “Damn, a lot of things is wrong with this” First of all, I love Michael Jackson, I look directly at this man, and I'm in my dirty peak so I have an instant— like a sex detector thing going on And I know people gave Michael a hard time when he was a live for being fruity and whatever But I'm looking at this dude, and I don't see fruit at all. I see 100% man. I see why people were mad at him. Cause I'm looking at this dude, 100% All I see is carnal, primal man. I'm like, “Yo, I see why they was mad at him” Because the camera kept panning to the audience And these people are losing their minds. They are coming out of themselves. They are UGLY CRYING, full out of body, Losing composure They don't know what to do. That's Michael Jackson. He's right there! And the place is huge so really besides these few hundreds of people in the front, Michael's just a speck, But he's working this audience like “Yo, you know who I am, I know who is me” And I'm realizing, that to these people That's their god. These girls are losing their minds m “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!l *crying inconsolably* Just UGLY crying Bitch, get it together . You all the way lost yourself Get. It together. She won't. This bitch. I can't get over this This one girl, They just keep going back to her Cause the whole show— And this is like 2 hours of pure non stop Michael Jackson, This girl, every time you see her, she's just ugly crying— And every time you see her Her cry is uglier and ugly I'm like “Damn bitch” “Daaaaaaang” So this is the first thing I see that is wrong. But there's a lot of things wrong here, Cause there's a lot of girls like this. There's just— hundreds of girls losing their minds, like, I've seen Beatles mania and thought that was crazy, Shit, I've even seen some people put out that kind of energy in the modern world for some dumb DJ's— That's their god— But THIS THIS Michael Jackson mania was mental illness That was hard to watch. That was people just Lost control. I'm thinking “Like goddamn. You— what?!” “AAagghhhhhhgahahahahahqhahahhahaha MICHAELl “These people are sick” But they are. And so is Michael Fame has gone too far, 1997; 12 short years before he died, by chance— So this is what I see, And then Michael starts dancing, And this— This is what I see; I see the only thing that can ever be what it was in that moment in time, as God being God: Michael Jackson. Shiny ass motherfucker, And so I'm watching this show, And all I see is a God being a man being a God being— Michael Jackson— And the whole thing is weird. But the worst part— Yes The worst part Was when, about mid show, Michael goes to do one of his slow, lovey doves songs, And like, this 6 foot 7 type body guard guy, Just pops up out of nowhere, Comes dead front and center to one of these little girls losing their minds, Runs up on her in an instant; You don't even have time to think— And just SNATCHES her— Snatches the bitch— “Ah!” then throws her up on stage with Michael— And he's still singing; this is his game, this is part of the show, he knows— But she doesn't know, And she's just lost her mind, She won't let go She's hugging and kissing on the dude, She's lost her mind, She's ugly crying She's on the floor, She's kissing his hand She's really lost her good goddamn mind— And they pan out to the audience, And all the girls that didn't get picked Are like WHY NOT MEEEEEEEREEEEE?!? THE UGLY CRIES ARE EVEN UGLIER NOW, They're like “Wh—what?” You don't know?! “WHY NOT ME” They're holding each other crying, Michael's just doing his thing, He's unphased, He's trying to play along; He's a professional like a motherfucker; He's just— keeps singing And this girl is just, Losing it, so at this point, it's weird, She's crazy batshit lost her mind all the way, Won't let go of Michael, kissing his face while he's singing, He's kind of unreceptive to it, now just looking out at the audience, almost not even looking at all Just cold as fuck actually, Like she's not there, kissing his face Cold as fuck— And then another bouncer dude— An even bigger one in a blue suit, comes and tears her off of Michael Cause clearly this has gone too far or whatever And I'm thinking “What in the fuck did I just see” Blue suit dude just snatches, Just— He has to tear her off of him! She's kicking and screaming and getting dragged off stage Michael's just: singing. YO. Then they dragged her back stage. Where did she go?! WHO DID SHE BECOME?! WHAT IN THE FUCK DID I JUST SEE?!? WHAT. 1997. You can't do that shit anymore! You cannot snatch bitches like that. I seen. Watch the video. Tell me what's wrong with it. It's disgusting. Not the snatching, Not the— Like, that was weird But the screaming and the crying and the— Like okay, the snatching was bad— But I'm like … ..:: …. Now I see why they was mad. Don't ever forget he was once— A dark skinned little boy, And in his genetics his whole life is still this thing That some hate. But people loved him; they loved him that hard— Screaming, ugly crying hard. I think in that moment you know someone was like “he must be stopped!” And it seems like yesterday was a year ago But I don't want let anybody know… Cause everybody wants something from me now— And I don't want to let them down. My life is over. New York City looks so small from the top of a skyscraper. What are you doing. Then again— my thoughts lately have been grandiose. Back market, eh? What's this for? You need a burner. I have three. Here, have another. For someone whose supposed to be entirely off grid, I'm admirably reachable. Clever vocabulary. Something has to be clever about me, doesn't it? Does it? It must be. Or else. [both men are speaking casually over the delicate process of loading rare guns; some of which appear to be antique, and some—almost even unearthly , as if from somewhere besides our own planet. But, you could say what planet this is at all, actually— this bunker, with no windows and no doors, is apparently hidden in a subterranean layer— the location, unknown. The men seem calm but also quite tired and weary, and seem to know each other well. We can assume they've probably been friends for years. Sickle cell anemia. Does that mean I'm going to die. Animus, I quite like whatever that is, Google. ;) don't mention it. Honestly, you might as well. What. I can't help you with this. What. I don't think there's anyone who can. Beg your pardon. Please, don't beg— but uh… [the doctor pats his patient on the shoulder] Do take care. Gee, doc! I'll try! You should do that. What. Try. The doctor leaves seemingly in some kind of hurry, trading his lab coat for a trench coat and closing the door behind him. The other man pauses for a second in the silence of the weird linoleum room, then ponders on the coat for a moment before walking up to the coat rack, putting on the coat, and then walking out the door himself; as he begins to shut the door, he quickly decides also to take the fedora that was sitting atop the coat rack, placing it on his head before he walks out the door himself, shutting it behind him quietly. You got anything to eat in here? Cereal…some rabbit food ina the drawers, there. Oh, you have salad. That sounds nice. No, rabbit food. [the man presents a large bag of weird brown dry food from the crisper drawer.] …pellets. For the rabbits. How do rabbits get in here? …I don't know. And— more importantly— where did you get rabbit food for them? If I told you Amazon, would you believe me? The man just winces and places the bag back into the crisper drawer. Now listen, I um— If you want cereal, the milk is powedred… I don't— and that's disgusting— but listen— [the man cocks a loaded gun and admires it intensively] (Dismissively) —I'm listening. I've been meaning to tell you something. Tell me what. It's important. Oh, You couldn't have used one of my four phones. Look, it's— You know I wasn't expecting company. Well— You should sit down. The man squints, beginning to listen more attentively. … …really. I'm holding a loaded gun; there are at least three more within arms reach if I do sit, you know. I know. But I should sit? One baby to another says, “I'm lucky to've met you.” Maybe you should. Not all my bad but all my might, And all my mind, The fire, The light. …business or personal. [beat] Both. {Enter The Multiverse} What are we watching?! Shhhhhh! Shut up. What is this? Some.. Sshhh. Shit, I don't know. Sit down. You don't know. SHH it just came on Shh. Ok. When? Uh… (Nobody really seems to know how long it's been. The show just happened to come on; no one remembers how, or why— or even when— But the show is intense as it gets; And it just keeps getting weirder and deeper.) {Enter The Multiverse} I'm transfixed on your soul And it seems I aspire To what has transpired here, Your unremarked and the umpire The spider veins and the way it washes. And watches and waves, and waters over you, And still I seem to think you've won another, Strum to thumb of you. And still I wake to gather here The odds and whats And the twists and turns and the Troublesome you've number some Or stuttered, stumbled conciousness. And withered branches Aces lie and house of cards And aging scoundrels— There you are, the..: Nevermind. Don't belittle my ways if, In the end my thinking may be correct As dumbfounded as I have shifted my lottery bonds tied to none, There ye are again who aren't I, And never were, And weathered now, as I, bound to Struggle under her might, Nothing I was, and nothing I am And nothing I came from but to barter Oh hard love, I only found my kings upon thrown As cast out of another by her likeness, Peace and pale and primed as it was, And wanted for love, As I was not— And then, the gates had opened And I, preaching withered, Gathered my arts and my minds And my eyes, and my thrones, Buried my ark and though not my bones The shallow waking peaks of pride And there you gathered, all as huddled sheep to mine, The cost of war, but certain therefore honored as I have, Happened went, came and untied, shattered Hating all I am and all my dark and all my eyes and all my brown Because you came and went, a baby born to as nothing was but beauty and yet having been gifted such life, Departed! Soon, I wake shattered and with none as it had began, in my time and in time there laid there none, But fortune seeks to favor, as ye are saying brave and yet I neither beg nor make to differ, Shall you come again in part, And in this time as shadows, as shadows As hating and wearing and waging, And shattered I, I pardon, Knowing not they seeking I, And I having none at all but one, As forgotten I shall came And went And followed this, The time y'i call now, And ours and ours, And yours and yours, And mine and mine, Though as one are also, Common not, And waking yet to find, These things making have gone into yer Another of ours, world, Another of our dozens, Shines, Another of our gathered, wit, and waking Though true to fortune, none us have gathered And have embarked to truth, The waking I have come, Another, and another, and another Departed. And yet, I bury my words having weakened to that which is this, Ye have no fear and lest no fortune in these words, For having I to come and gone, since they times In words to make this a language I or neither other Does not speak here, and almost never, And this yours time past, Has come and gone And come and gone And come and gone again, So long so I too have parted but not yet Unfolded as does my nature, As God does. Belittle this, you waking fools, As to this you pity though divine, Is unlike any other And steep remarked in gold and with chimes and words That ye here no often or either now, or in mine speak. Amen …can I go now? You are dismissed. C'cxell Soleïl, aka DJ Ū is an American DJ + Producer, Multi-Instrumentalist, Playwright, Poet, Comedian, Novelist & Filmmaker. She is best known for her unique vocal riffs, Clever Lyricism & Philanthropically Inspired Freestyles and her flagship venture [The Festival Project.™] [Ï A M B ī C], a freestyle studio mixtape recorded in Los Angeles, (Official Release: TBD) inspired the adaptation of a staged musical version for Broadway, and a concurrent multimedia (TV/Film) series and ongoing saga as part of The Festival Project ™ Brand. Inspired musically by an ‘Ultra American' experience of Racially, Binary Ambiguity, and Synesthetic Exploration, her reflective melodies signature sound provides a philosophical dissection of American culture through a careful and inquisitive mastery of the English language, and emergence of world sounds through music brings about ‘A New Era in Nature', and clarifies the establishment of the newest wave in human evolution: Unity Through Music. L E G E N D S What if I just want to be alone in the dark Alone in the dark Alone in the dark Bones Duggar was a long, handsome zombie Bones once was a very tall man Not great and tall, as he stands But average, Grand as it were, his status. Everything's black My heart My pants My home My mind Everything hurts But you don't understand that Like I can Calm the commercial holidays for a moment Who gets the card? Get our your hard earned My head hurts Slam the door man; You can't control thoughts With a wombat Murderer Now that's a hard concept to catch When you haven't a soul When you haven't a card Or a car Or a cat I think I'm vanilla. I always thought of myself as a super kink Like a freaky, freaky bitch. So I got on this app. This app is better then Tinder. Yes. But it is not for the faint of heart. No, sir. They have a test, I'm like “ooh, I like tests” So I take the test. The test was not at all… As I'd hoped. First of all, It was hard. It was not a quiz; It was a TEST And I failed. I realized “Oh my god, I don't like any of this stuff” I am not about that! No! Yuck! Gross. “I think I might be vanilla.” I might be vanilla. I want my hair pulled back like a leash And my arms tied up Like I'm being arrested Without being read my rights. — I want your hands on the back of my neck [breathe] Reach around to my Mortimer's apple Put the lights out, Adam. I want the lights cut off. I want the bills piled up so the phone don't work I want the habit back on Don't talk to nobody I told you, I'm coming No, God! That's dumb! Show me why I'm off all alone with a rattle so bad It's just segmented thoughts, colors and sounds I can't make with all the plugins in the kindgdom of chaos?! I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES— I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES —but the one who could love me is God, And I guess he's not coming. The denial turns to tears, Not songs no more My womb is empty And the sun has turned into Not what I wanted But not my fault We got caught in the land of Cutting costs And processed morsels At 400 pounds And that's where I found What I thought was love But it turns out That it just turns up In the whole form of a person And that's why I got the collar, caller But really I'm no one's lover So I Do what I want I don't hang up on God But he don't got a body And I need someone to love/ Fuck me Please God Don't turn the lights off I'll pull the clock back Just like foreskin, god i want your skin Draped over mine in a warm swath Probably run a hot back Cause the next stop is a closet The line doesn't really move for the Doesn'tMatterhorn. some people are starting to doubt if it's even a ride. Others just admire it for its eloquence as a metaphor. Johnny! You scared me! Aha. Where did you go?! Nowhere— fast! Alright well— Money when you know I have it But I haven't really Paid attention to the never ending Digits never coming in but Simply, there's a secret, Sonny Someday you'll get lessons, honey. Much to find and much to serve and Surf us up Piñata's bout the burst But here comes Vesuvius (POW) Everyone was gone in an instant (Vapor) Had a good laugh that night in the pantheon; Everything's past, and the mortals They kept on running But i didn't want go, God Putting on a show then I blow up Just like the mountain Found her Now I got a broke back husband (hope so) To tell, don't ask Don't show up if you just get lost But I'm probably in the back with a bottle back mountain Now you got a real horse pack. Trip Girl keep camping What was the map with the mask and the Fashion? Pass. I put sugar on the rim of the glass With my eyes half closed And my ass clenched fast shut I'm an alcoholic Don't involve the God I got lost in the mall with the —- UGHHHHHHHH! Hello. Uh, yes— hi. what up. Mirror mirror. Uh…nothing. You're lost? No. You look lost. Oh? Disgruntled. I am that. You're lost? I'm not lost. My friend is lost. His phone is dead. You lost each other. Sort of. Continuity conniption I nipped an eclipse And he picked his nose For a full ass minute Sitting at the stop sign That's a gobstopper's worth in our time Pull all the clocks back, Pull the fool over, You just got fined It was Friday for nothing I was in the hatchback, Scratch that Sour patch Should have called Pat back Now I'm just a Cool 48 in the ring with a date And the cashapp Continuity construction I want a husband! Fuck that. I want a clean cut plus one Since I can't have Helmet, Elmo, Or Hatchetman; Tears of a Clow…no, Wait I lost focus Half finished album Got 6 tracks But I knew it was 12 from the get go Prob‘ly should have knocked off the showrunner; Nah, I'm sure I had that coming Hashtag, undon Could have been you, too If the cash came through Now it's hard times Hardwired Sitting on a hi wire, Little white liar, liar Wait I made Katey Sagal (Fire) Cut off her hair (Fire) Went to the hall of fame with the framed sunglasses Asked for her autograf, But she walked off So I shot her with a bottle/ can, But she ducked, popped back up With the brass knuckles Surfboard Good for a chuckle and a fuck So I asked for her number All that on a Sunday at Gelson's market. Christ, almighty I miss Walmart, I hit hard times. So many places to run, But not many places to hide I think I want to die here I think i want to die. City of corruption… Lay it out and lay it over City of corruption… no, it's not a choice It's a black tie function Right in that very moment Seth Meyers kind of became my defacto personal hero. “Never meet your heroes” Or perhaps it was just his writing team, or the fact that maybe even without there even being anything set in stone or solid at all, [redacted] itself seemed to have a price over my head– It all seemed to make sense; in fact, all the crazy things i was experiencing made more sense than it didn't. But after what felt something like between defeat and maybe even one day really getting justice for all the things that had happened to me in new york– it was that, at best; That without actually meaning it, by all probability, the opening monologue described what in perfect sense the thing that had been happening to me: hundreds of motorcycles and cars riding around in circles for over a year, any time i tried to work or sleep–and then, when I finally tried to reach out to find an attorney that would help, I was made to feel crazy for it. In a way, it was the perfect indication that it had all been some sort of sick game, and that I was more right than wrong, and being set up to appear, sound, or look crazy–but I wasn't. I had been under attack for nearly two years, and when I tried to reach out, my heart raced and my voice cracked, and I sounded crazy and desperate–but what was happening was very real; and now I knew where I was. As it turns out, New York's corruption was more common knowledge to everyone else before it was to me: New York was a common place for fucked up, dirty, low-down mind games: and this was my lesson in that. Seth Meyers in reality had nothing to do with it–and really I only meant to watch Kimmel over my afternoon tacos. But still, though it hadn't entirely anything to do with me, the opening statements rang true to exactly what I had experienced; I was made to lose my mind, only to have everyone around me tell me it was something wrong with me–but it wasn't. Something was wrong with the city, and the building management, and the people around who were making it all to be some kind of mental disorder or problems with my mind–in reality, it was 2 years of being in the center of a speedway, and all the time i'd lost because of it adding to the stress, and the angst, and the depression that resulted. Moo. Moo… Moo. Moo, sir. I'll kill you. You promise? I want to. Don't get me excited over nothing; If this isn't the exit, please take this tease To the left, dear Moo, cow My honor Level one, and brother, you've got nothing Flip the coin and landed on your headache Betting on your helmet Standing on my cock, i'm taller (Not a rooster) But my ops are rooting for you, No informants, Dont you know I was a collar, all along? I was a shot calling, Cop calling Kiss-and-tell all as the night goes on. But oh, I brought you a dollar bra Oh, I bought you for all of a dollar And oh, I'm so much taller, Standing on my cock But i'm not but ten feet tall You know, you wrote that Should i open the book, or close that Caught that cat, owl and As i soft spoke at Every broken model Broken bottle for the thoughts you owe Across the scatters skies and no one ever knows When you're realling coming over Come on, I'm on the pornhub Just to pick up another one Go on, and rub the bottle One more once, To call the Bubbles. Damn. Come. (The Monkey obeys) You should see Michael in all of his godform You won't recognize him at all if not by the eyes When you follow home Believe me, this not comes close to it; The one you wanted The world you jumped to but were just short of Call her back Oh no, you're wrong It's another song A pin up girl And the wrong number Okah. Okah, Pablo. Time can be altered, changed or effected presently in any omnidirectional plane by engaging certain acts or synchronicities within multidimensional parallels or adjacent realms in time and or space respectively. –the reverse quantum simulation theory. Does anyone else smell blood I hate wedding days suits and tuxedos No, I don't know you I'm just here to sound the hundred drums Of the once before us (The ones to come) Then, there we were and I didn't want to admit Again, I was caught into the ghost of the rapture Or the holy hour, No aux chord Show the holy one Just how old you are On these sacr d lands and a holy grounds Now I want here half an ounce to smoke And there were drowning orchestras in all of the hearts And all of the markets, The market the marker And all of the sins of the savior The maytyr Did you remember not to notice not to know him Were you sure with words you were for nickelodeaon! I was supposed to hold on to, Supposed to hold on to Suddenly, it's summer. And always our own are under the weather There was no other wise man the wind. Lee the one came The site came and went and then the songs went left The songs went left; Again, the songs went left Did you win at wintergreen Well, God, I didn't know gym was a game. I didn't know guns we're just portals to worlds unknownn I didn't know gossip was golden What all else didn't I know It wasn't for here! It was fourth flour And in the final hour of the battle I commenced to summon All the gods and all the lords and all the flowers All the worlds of oceans and the Remember, this The remembrance It may not matter to some, What matters to most But until summer comes, I'm still up under the rail And practically it's spring, for the next two weeks I'm all berries and cream and whatever you wanted. Tormaline, emerald and onyx, the fox said And fox says its west when instead it's quite under what of the reporter's offer? Comes down a little to none What of the offer Comes down from a billion to one A billion to one I'm on TV so it's really just a one way screen Either way, I don't think he likes me much I don't think he likes me much I'd rather die than to fall in love even one more time And to keep on just never being loved Never beingbloved {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Seth takes a closer look at Trump writing a 400-word Truth Social post about how nobody cares about Jeffrey Epstein, Republicans forcing through a heinous plan to kick millions off health insurance to pay for tax cuts for billionaires and Florida opening a gruesome detention center for migrants.Then, Jack McBrayer talks about his unconventional approach to getting kids to like him and his ability to find real four-leaf clovers wherever he goes before sharing the most unique homes he's seen while hosting Zillow Gone Wild.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Colony House is an Indie rock band made up of brothers Will and Caleb Chapman. As well as Scott Mills and Parke Cottrell is playfully self described as land lock surf rock. Their personal genre designation is as much inspired by their hometown of Franklin, TN as their new album the Cannonballers is. The band's music is built on pillars of honesty, accessibility and family. The Cannonballers marks the band's 4th full length release. Their 3 previous studio collections take listeners on a journey through stories of loss, grief and heartbreak. While welcoming them into the hope that comes on the other side.  The band has performed their songs for world-wide audiences with 2 appearances on both Late Night with Seth Meyers and Conan. As well as the Today Show, VH1's Morning Buzz and MTV Live. The Cannonballers is an app addition to the band's catalog. Staying true to what Colony House does best and expanding on what their fans have gravitated to for the past decade. Hope and light in the midst of it all. No frills, no gemicks just heart, level, rock and roll music. Caleb is joined today by his delightful wife, Julia who is the Director of Operations for Show Hope, an organization we love and respect. Will is joined by his wife the incredibly talented Jullian Edwards whose music we love and recommend often.  Prepare to fall head over heels for these four incredible human beings! . . . . .  Follow Colony House on Instagram     Check out the work they're doing here Show Hope and Colony House . . . . .  Owen Learns He Has What it Takes: A Lesson in Resilience Lucy Learns to Be Brave: A Lesson in Courage⁠ Grab your tickets today for the ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Raising Capable Kids Conference⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ with David Thomas, Sissy Goff and special guests! Sign up to receive the ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠monthly newsletter⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ to keep up to date with where David and Sissy are speaking, where they are taco'ing, PLUS conversation starters for you and your family to share! Connect with David, Sissy, and Melissa at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠raisingboysandgirls.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ . . . . .  If you would like to partner with Raising Boys and Girls as a podcast sponsor, fill out our ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Advertise with us⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ form. A special thank you to our sponsors: QUINCE: Give your summer closet an upgrade—with Quince. Go to Quince.com/rbg for free shipping on your order and three hundred and sixty-five -day returns.  THRIVE MARKET: Skip the junk without overspending. Head over to ThriveMarket.com/rbg to get 30% off your first order and a FREE $60 gift.  NIV APPLICATION BIBLE: Save an additional 10% on any NIV Application Bible and NIV Application Commentary Resources by visiting FAITHGATEWAY.COM/NIVAB and using promo code RBG.  JOLIE: Jolie will give you your best skin & hair guaranteed. Head to jolieskinco.com/RBG to try it out for yourself with FREE shipping.  KIWI CO: Get $15 off on your Summer Adventure Series at kiwico.com/RBG Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Good people have good friends So maybe I' no good Maybe I'm no good Though I'm luckier than most, I know I just can't cope So maybe I'm no good When's the last time you been to Dimedale? …Timmy? I guess. V.O. I try not to double back on old habits. TIMMY TURNER turns the corner on his motorcycle just a bit too fast— he is clipped by a turning semi truck, a bright blue freighter that unhinges as the headlights blare into his widened eyes under the semi translucent visor of his rainbow swirl pink helmet. V.O. TIMMY TURNER “Try” not to, anyway… {enter the multiverse} I put a terabyte of stored documents and files back into the cloud and suddenly, after my morning run— CUT TO Welcome home, kid. Yeah, I… The jail cell door slams shut. TIMMY TUNER (reprised by Drake Bell) Late 30'e-early 40's is awaiting trial after the stint in the hospital followed by V.O. Detox… …Rehab. Jesus Christ. After his bloodwork revealed lethal levels of multiple intoxicants in his system, and although he was not technically at fault for the accident, he has been charged with driving under the influence, as well as a number of other crimes— However; His black duffel back has mysteriously vanished, And he has not been charged for any of the many possible other crimes considering the also mysterious contents of said bag, which was with him at the time of the accident, but not logged into evidence. MEANWHILE… WALTON GOGGINS?! Yep, that's me. *Mr. Walton GOGGINS. No, get out. What. GET OUT. [The Festival Project ™] A shadowy ass figure appears behind Timmy in his cell. Woah. Hey. COSMO (Jimmy Fallon, in this dimension) Why Jimmy Fallon. I got. *blank stares* I did— a thing. A thing. Fucking magic circles. CRISIS. THE COSMIC AVENGER IS IN DEEP CRISIS. AVERT! Anyway, COSMO Timmy. TIMMY TURNER yeah. COSMO. It's me. TIMMY “You” who? COSMO “Yoo-hoo” classic . TIMMY Ha-ha—very funny—wait— COSMO Uh huh. TIMMY Cosmo?! COSMO Uh huh! TIMMY What! You're, like— COSMO You don't look too good yourself. TIMMY (Irritated) Whatever. Where's Wanda? COSMO Not in high security prison. TIMMY What are you doing here?! COSMO …I'm your roommate. TIMMY What?! COSMO I know, this is an interesting turn of events. TIMMY No it isn't. This is television! (Breaking fourth wall) COSMO (Beat) —you're right. [beat] (Cosmo drifts off) TIMMY Cosmo! Where are your wings?! COSMO (Half asleep) I'm not sleeping! TIMMY Your wings? COSMO I lost them! TIMMY How? COSMO In a poker match TIMMY Permanently?! COSMO Hm? No. Nothing is permanent, but— TIMMY But what?! This is crazy?! What are you doing here?! Where's Wanda. COSMO Listen, about me and Wanda. TIMMY Don't tell me— COSMO Alright, I won't. But listen: TIMMY This is crazy. COSMO It is crazy, but I have a plan. TIMMY Well, what's your plan?! COSMO I still have some magic left. TIMMY Some?! Well what happened? COSMO (Shrugs, at a loss) Look— Timmy. TIMMY This is wild! COSMO I need you to make a wish! TIMMY …what. COSMO A wish. A wish, Timmy! TIMMY Oh, no— not this again. COSMO It's the only way! TIMMY But you're not even my fairy anymore! COSMO Timmy Turner, I will always be your fairy. *sniffs* (Kind of awkward, heartwarming moment— they hug; the guard peeks through the window and squints at them, grimacing) Wide shot of two dudes hugging in prison. TIMMY Okay… COSMO Yeah, let's. TIMMY Yeah. COSMO Anyway, Tim, I need you to make a wish. TIMMY “Tim” don't call me that! COSMO Well, it's weird calling you “Timmy, you're like 40.” TIMMY Yeah, but— COSMO Make a wish, Timmy. [beat] The guard peers in through the window, this time with popped corn TIMMY and COSMO both squint awkwardly. COSMO Uh… TIMMY Yeah, okay— COSMO Hurry. TIMMY I wish… *POOF* Suddenly, Cosmo and Timmy are back in Timmy's old room— not much has changed, but it seems off and kind of odd; TIMMY and COSMO are still— well— aged. Just then, TIMMY'S FATHER enters through the door. TIMMY'S DAD (Chris Parnell) enters, leaning into the door. TIMMY'S DAD Timmy?! TIMMY Uh… DAD! TIMMY'S DAD (He squints suspiciously at Cosmo) …and who's this? TIMMY Uh, this— TIMMY'S DAD …it's Wednesday… isn't it? TIMMY This, uhm… COSMO I'm uh— TIMMY This is my— COSMO Ahem. Parole officer. TIMMY Yeah. TIMMY'S DAD You never cease to disappoint me, son. TIMMY Thanks. TIMMY'S DAD. I'll leave you to it. Before he gets exits, he pauses for a moment and stares into Cosmo // parallel (as) Chris Parnell / as Jimmy Fallon. TIMMY'S DAD (To Cosmo) …do I know you? COSMO No, I don't think so. TIMMY'S DAD Are you sure? COSMO Positive…pretty much. TIMMY'S DAD You're probably right— you just TIMMY Uh, dad— TIMMY'S DAD You look so familiar. COSMO (Flatly) …no, I don't. TIMMY'S DAD No, no— I got it! Wednesday evening poker club?! COSMO TIMMY COSMO That must be it. TIMMY'S DAD I knew it. COSMO …right. TIMMY'S DAD I thought that was you. Anyway, as you were— I'll let you, uh— COSMO Yes! TIMMY'S DAD See you tonight! COSMO You betcha! TIMMY'S DAD (Suddenly coldly, to TIMMY) Timmy. *he shuts the door* TIMMY COSMO TIMMY “Wednesday Evening Poker Club” Where would you even come up with something like that. COSMO The thing is, I do play poker on wednesdays! TIMMY What! COSMO I didn't know that was your dad! TIMMY Yeah, about that; why can my dad see you? COSMO I told you, I lost my magic. TIMMY All of it?! COSMO Obviously not all of it— enough to get us out of that last mess! TIMMY Oh, this is awful. We have to find Wanda! COSMO no, wait! As TIMMY attempts to leave, a loud ringing from his ankle begins to ring; TIMMY'S FATHER returns just to squint, scowling at his son before murmuring TIMMY'S DAD you know the rules. TIMMY steps back inside the room, his father shuts it, at first normally, then slamming it at the last moment. COSMO Yeah, that. TIMMY What is this?! COSMO You're under house arrest! Obviously! TIMMY What!! What gives?! COSMO I granted your wish! TIMMY Like, half of it! COSMO Half is about all I've got—! TIMMY Are you kidding me?! COSMO I wish! TIMMY Geez, why can't you grant you grant your own wishes? COSMO It might totally defeat the purpose. And without Wandaaa TIMMY WHERE'S WANDA?! COSMO I don't know… TIMMY We gotta get out of here. COSMO Well, I can leave. You can't. TIMMY Okay… COSMO Yeah, that's. TIMMY What If I wished for Wanda to be here, then? COSMO … I don't know. TIMMY That's what I'll do. COSMO I don't know, Tim. TIMMY Stop calling me that. COSMO It's very weird calling you “Timmy” TIMMY That's my name. COSMO Whatever! TIMMY I wish Wanda was here! COSMO No! TIMMY What! Why not, COSMO She might get mad. (She will definitely be mad) TIMMY Well, that's my wish. COSMO No! TIMMY That's my wish! Grant it! COSMO Ugh… L E G E N D S WANDA, who has been living her best life as a recent divorcee and retired fairy godmother, is whisked away from her tropical paradise vacation to DIMSDALE, CALIFORNIA, where her ex husband COSMO and former fairy god child, who is now a harshly aged party animal on PAROLE sit nervously as she arrives to greet her. WANDA is furious. {enter the multiverse} Seth MCFARLENE is so Hollywood. SETH ROGEN DONT know where his pants is. SETH MEYERS is trapped in a box with almost no air holes at all And SETH GREENE is the life of the party. [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright The Festival Project, Inc. ™ & The Complex Collective © 2015-2025 All Rights Reserved

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

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

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

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

Good people have good friends So maybe I' no good Maybe I'm no good Though I'm luckier than most, I know I just can't cope So maybe I'm no good When's the last time you been to Dimedale? …Timmy? I guess. V.O. I try not to double back on old habits. TIMMY TURNER turns the corner on his motorcycle just a bit too fast— he is clipped by a turning semi truck, a bright blue freighter that unhinges as the headlights blare into his widened eyes under the semi translucent visor of his rainbow swirl pink helmet. V.O. TIMMY TURNER “Try” not to, anyway… {enter the multiverse} I put a terabyte of stored documents and files back into the cloud and suddenly, after my morning run— CUT TO Welcome home, kid. Yeah, I… The jail cell door slams shut. TIMMY TUNER (reprised by Drake Bell) Late 30'e-early 40's is awaiting trial after the stint in the hospital followed by V.O. Detox… …Rehab. Jesus Christ. After his bloodwork revealed lethal levels of multiple intoxicants in his system, and although he was not technically at fault for the accident, he has been charged with driving under the influence, as well as a number of other crimes— However; His black duffel back has mysteriously vanished, And he has not been charged for any of the many possible other crimes considering the also mysterious contents of said bag, which was with him at the time of the accident, but not logged into evidence. MEANWHILE… WALTON GOGGINS?! Yep, that's me. *Mr. Walton GOGGINS. No, get out. What. GET OUT. [The Festival Project ™] A shadowy ass figure appears behind Timmy in his cell. Woah. Hey. COSMO (Jimmy Fallon, in this dimension) Why Jimmy Fallon. I got. *blank stares* I did— a thing. A thing. Fucking magic circles. CRISIS. THE COSMIC AVENGER IS IN DEEP CRISIS. AVERT! Anyway, COSMO Timmy. TIMMY TURNER yeah. COSMO. It's me. TIMMY “You” who? COSMO “Yoo-hoo” classic . TIMMY Ha-ha—very funny—wait— COSMO Uh huh. TIMMY Cosmo?! COSMO Uh huh! TIMMY What! You're, like— COSMO You don't look too good yourself. TIMMY (Irritated) Whatever. Where's Wanda? COSMO Not in high security prison. TIMMY What are you doing here?! COSMO …I'm your roommate. TIMMY What?! COSMO I know, this is an interesting turn of events. TIMMY No it isn't. This is television! (Breaking fourth wall) COSMO (Beat) —you're right. [beat] (Cosmo drifts off) TIMMY Cosmo! Where are your wings?! COSMO (Half asleep) I'm not sleeping! TIMMY Your wings? COSMO I lost them! TIMMY How? COSMO In a poker match TIMMY Permanently?! COSMO Hm? No. Nothing is permanent, but— TIMMY But what?! This is crazy?! What are you doing here?! Where's Wanda. COSMO Listen, about me and Wanda. TIMMY Don't tell me— COSMO Alright, I won't. But listen: TIMMY This is crazy. COSMO It is crazy, but I have a plan. TIMMY Well, what's your plan?! COSMO I still have some magic left. TIMMY Some?! Well what happened? COSMO (Shrugs, at a loss) Look— Timmy. TIMMY This is wild! COSMO I need you to make a wish! TIMMY …what. COSMO A wish. A wish, Timmy! TIMMY Oh, no— not this again. COSMO It's the only way! TIMMY But you're not even my fairy anymore! COSMO Timmy Turner, I will always be your fairy. *sniffs* (Kind of awkward, heartwarming moment— they hug; the guard peeks through the window and squints at them, grimacing) Wide shot of two dudes hugging in prison. TIMMY Okay… COSMO Yeah, let's. TIMMY Yeah. COSMO Anyway, Tim, I need you to make a wish. TIMMY “Tim” don't call me that! COSMO Well, it's weird calling you “Timmy, you're like 40.” TIMMY Yeah, but— COSMO Make a wish, Timmy. [beat] The guard peers in through the window, this time with popped corn TIMMY and COSMO both squint awkwardly. COSMO Uh… TIMMY Yeah, okay— COSMO Hurry. TIMMY I wish… *POOF* Suddenly, Cosmo and Timmy are back in Timmy's old room— not much has changed, but it seems off and kind of odd; TIMMY and COSMO are still— well— aged. Just then, TIMMY'S FATHER enters through the door. TIMMY'S DAD (Chris Parnell) enters, leaning into the door. TIMMY'S DAD Timmy?! TIMMY Uh… DAD! TIMMY'S DAD (He squints suspiciously at Cosmo) …and who's this? TIMMY Uh, this— TIMMY'S DAD …it's Wednesday… isn't it? TIMMY This, uhm… COSMO I'm uh— TIMMY This is my— COSMO Ahem. Parole officer. TIMMY Yeah. TIMMY'S DAD You never cease to disappoint me, son. TIMMY Thanks. TIMMY'S DAD. I'll leave you to it. Before he gets exits, he pauses for a moment and stares into Cosmo // parallel (as) Chris Parnell / as Jimmy Fallon. TIMMY'S DAD (To Cosmo) …do I know you? COSMO No, I don't think so. TIMMY'S DAD Are you sure? COSMO Positive…pretty much. TIMMY'S DAD You're probably right— you just TIMMY Uh, dad— TIMMY'S DAD You look so familiar. COSMO (Flatly) …no, I don't. TIMMY'S DAD No, no— I got it! Wednesday evening poker club?! COSMO TIMMY COSMO That must be it. TIMMY'S DAD I knew it. COSMO …right. TIMMY'S DAD I thought that was you. Anyway, as you were— I'll let you, uh— COSMO Yes! TIMMY'S DAD See you tonight! COSMO You betcha! TIMMY'S DAD (Suddenly coldly, to TIMMY) Timmy. *he shuts the door* TIMMY COSMO TIMMY “Wednesday Evening Poker Club” Where would you even come up with something like that. COSMO The thing is, I do play poker on wednesdays! TIMMY What! COSMO I didn't know that was your dad! TIMMY Yeah, about that; why can my dad see you? COSMO I told you, I lost my magic. TIMMY All of it?! COSMO Obviously not all of it— enough to get us out of that last mess! TIMMY Oh, this is awful. We have to find Wanda! COSMO no, wait! As TIMMY attempts to leave, a loud ringing from his ankle begins to ring; TIMMY'S FATHER returns just to squint, scowling at his son before murmuring TIMMY'S DAD you know the rules. TIMMY steps back inside the room, his father shuts it, at first normally, then slamming it at the last moment. COSMO Yeah, that. TIMMY What is this?! COSMO You're under house arrest! Obviously! TIMMY What!! What gives?! COSMO I granted your wish! TIMMY Like, half of it! COSMO Half is about all I've got—! TIMMY Are you kidding me?! COSMO I wish! TIMMY Geez, why can't you grant you grant your own wishes? COSMO It might totally defeat the purpose. And without Wandaaa TIMMY WHERE'S WANDA?! COSMO I don't know… TIMMY We gotta get out of here. COSMO Well, I can leave. You can't. TIMMY Okay… COSMO Yeah, that's. TIMMY What If I wished for Wanda to be here, then? COSMO … I don't know. TIMMY That's what I'll do. COSMO I don't know, Tim. TIMMY Stop calling me that. COSMO It's very weird calling you “Timmy” TIMMY That's my name. COSMO Whatever! TIMMY I wish Wanda was here! COSMO No! TIMMY What! Why not, COSMO She might get mad. (She will definitely be mad) TIMMY Well, that's my wish. COSMO No! TIMMY That's my wish! Grant it! COSMO Ugh… L E G E N D S WANDA, who has been living her best life as a recent divorcee and retired fairy godmother, is whisked away from her tropical paradise vacation to DIMSDALE, CALIFORNIA, where her ex husband COSMO and former fairy god child, who is now a harshly aged party animal on PAROLE sit nervously as she arrives to greet her. WANDA is furious. {enter the multiverse} Seth MCFARLENE is so Hollywood. SETH ROGEN DONT know where his pants is. SETH MEYERS is trapped in a box with almost no air holes at all And SETH GREENE is the life of the party. [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright The Festival Project, Inc. ™ & The Complex Collective © 2015-2025 All Rights Reserved

John Oliver BioSnap a weekly updated Biography.John Oliver remains at the center of sharp-tongued satire and headline-making stunts this week. His most buzzed-about moment came from a high-profile interview circuit following his audacious million-dollar offer to Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas to resign, a story that's setting media abuzz and likely to linger in the public consciousness for some time, according to a recent appearance detailed on YouTube. In the same interview, Oliver also dived into the meticulous planning behind that offer, giving viewers a glimpse into the mix of sincerity and mischief that defines his approach. Other memorable tidbits from those interviews include being booed at a Sesame Street gala and donning a full pirate costume at a party—a detail that generated laughs on social media and was apparently a point of contention with his wife. He also reminisced about his parents seeing him on Late Night, underscoring the human side of his relentless public persona.Professionally, Oliver continues to co-headline a popular live residency with Seth Meyers at New York's Beacon Theatre, with shows running monthly through the end of 2025—dates on July 27, September 21, October 26, November 23, and December 14 are all confirmed. According to both MSG.com and Ticketmaster, this residency is proving a hot ticket and positions Oliver as a marquee draw in contemporary comedy, keeping him firmly in the live performance spotlight.Meanwhile, on HBO, his flagship show Last Week Tonight with John Oliver keeps on rolling, with its July 7 episode delivering the usual blend of deep dives and headline commentary. Recent episodes, as noted by outlets like IMDb and JustWatch, continue to feature Oliver's signature in-depth analysis and witty critique, tackling everything from politics to global oddities. These episodes regularly stir up discussion on social media, and although specifics on viral moments from this week are unconfirmed, there is routine online buzz following each broadcast.There are no credible reports of major business ventures or new endorsements in the past few days, nor has Oliver been associated with any controversies beyond his usual satirical targets. The only speculative chatter surrounds whether his Clarence Thomas resignation stunt could have broader legal or political repercussions, but as of now, that remains in the realm of pundit speculation.As always, John Oliver's blend of incisive commentary, headline-grabbing antics, and endearing personal quirks keeps him firmly on the radar, with each appearance and broadcast offering fresh fodder for fans and commentators alike.Get the best deals https://amzn.to/3ODvOta

‘Late Night with Seth Meyers' writer Jenny Hagel has spent the entirety of Donald Trump's political career writing and telling jokes that ride a precarious line between funny and offensive. But the difference between Hagel and Trump's anti-woke comic crowd is that she only ever targets her own demographic. In this episode, Hagel breaks down her and Amber Ruffin's long-running “Jokes Seth Can't Tell” segment, including how they got Hillary Clinton to join in after losing the 2016 election and why they are able to get away with outrageous punchlines that could get people with the wrong intentions canceled. She also discusses how ‘Late Night' has changed during the second Trump term, reveals some secrets behind Seth Meyers' popular “Day Drinking” bit, shares her reaction to NBC's decision to kill ‘The Amber Ruffin Show,' and teases her live comedy show ‘Jenny Hagel Gives Advice' in which she bolds tells audience members how to live their lives. Get tickets to see ‘Jenny Hagel Gives Advice' liveFollow Jenny Hagel on Instagram @jennyhagelFollow Matt Wilstein on Bluesky @mattwilsteinFollow The Last Laugh on Instagram @lastlaughpodHighlights from this episode and others at The Daily Beast Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Ty Burrell joins Seth and Josh on the podcast this week! He talks all about growing up in Oregon, what life was like with his younger brother growing up and what brought them together, the life changing encouragement he received from his father, living in Los Angeles during his time on Modern Family, life in Utah, a family vacation to the Grand Canyon, and so much more! Plus, Ty talks about his new scripted comedy podcast, THE GOOD LIFE, which he created, executive produced and stars in, out now! Watch more Family Trips episodes: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLlqYOfxU_jQem4_NRJPM8_wLBrEEQ17B6 Family Trips is produced by Rabbit Grin Productions. Theme song written and performed by Jeff Tweedy. ------------------------- Support our sponsors: Visit Baltimore Baltimore is just a short drive or train ride from New York, Philly, and D.C. Plan your visit today at Baltimore.org Baltimore: You won't get it ‘til you get here!” DeleteMe Get 20% off your DeleteMe plan when you go to joindeleteme.com/TRIPS and use promo code TRIPS at checkout. Soul Right now, Soul is offering our audience 30% off your entire order! Go to GetSoul.com and use the code TRIPS. Family Trips Live Family Trips Live from Amsterdam will be released on 7/17 and was made possible by Airbnb." ------------------------- About the Show: Lifelong brothers Seth Meyers and Josh Meyers ask guests to relive childhood memories, unforgettable family trips, and other disasters! New Episodes of Family Trips with the Meyers Brothers are available every Tuesday. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This week The Lonely Island and Seth Meyers talk about the digital short, Motherlover feat. Justin Timberlake! They chat about their memories working with Justin as well as other sketches from that SNL episode including Target Lady, a sketch that was cut called McDonald's, and Seth's Weekend Update! Motherlover | https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X0DeIqJm4vM Target Lady: Classic Peg | https://youtu.be/ZXzNp2Vq7CQ?si=naN5HFVIvUKoI5_A Update Feature: Star Trek | https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v2Fu2CV5lU4 Barry Gibb Talk Show | https://youtu.be/GBSPTDIAtPg?si=VUiYJweZogFk69wZ Not all the clips we mention are available online; some never even aired. If you want to see more photos and clips follow us on Instagram @thelonelyislandpod. Support our sponsors: Wonderful Pistachios Grab a bag today. www.wonderfulpistachios.com Betterment Make your money hustle with Betterment Get started at Betterment.com Mint Mobile Get your summer savings and shop premium wireless plans at MINTMOBILE.com/ISLAND. Vuori Get 20% off your FIRST purchase. Get yourself some of the most comfortable and versatile clothing on the planet at vuori.com/ISLAND How Did this Get Made So what are you waiting for? Tune in to How Did This Get Made?—the podcast that makes sense out of movies that don't Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Jenny Hagel joins Mark to discuss writing for Late Night with Seth Meyers, producing The Amber Ruffin Show, & her stage show Jenny Hagel Gives Advice.   Website: https://jennyhagel.komi.io/ Upcoming Live Show: https://jennyhagel.komi.io/#e1f281ce-02ce-49cd-a9ec-1ae65d1c8478   Follow on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jennyhagel

In the latest edition of Late Night Lit, Late Night Supervising Producer Sarah Jenks-Daly talks to author Christine Pride about her new novel, All the Men I've Loved Again.Plus, Late Night staffers Sal Gentile, Madeline Goetz and Mike Scollins share what they're reading, and Seth's mom Hilary Meyers takes a look at some literary classics.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Topics include the closing of Mac's Tavern, a popular bar in Philadelphia tied to the 'It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia' TV show, and the return of unseen Johnny Carson episodes. Seth Meyers discusses the possibility of taking over SNL and the endless passion of Lorne Michaels. Steph Tolev touches on the evolving LA comedy scene and her experience hosting the AVN Awards. Jeff Ross shares a humorous encounter with Milton Berle, and Kathy Griffin reveals why she turned down hosting 'The View.' Get the show without ads. Five bucks.  For Apple users, hit the banner on your Apple podcasts app which says UNINTERRUPTED LISTENING. For Spotify or other players, visit caloroga.com/plus.    Contact John at john@thesharkdeck dot com  John's free substack about the media:  Media Thoughts  is mcdpod.substack.com DCN on Threads: https://www.threads.net/@dailycomedynews https://linktr.ee/dailycomedynews You can also support the show at www.buymeacoffee.com/dailycomedynewsBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/daily-comedy-news--4522158/support.

Recorded every Thursday after the audience has left Studio 8G, and witnessed only by scattered members of the Late Night staff and crew… This is Corrections: The Podcast.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Seth Meyers is currently vying for one of just three nomination spots in the late-night TV Emmys race. But ahead of the 2024 election, the comedian, ‘Saturday Night Live' alum and host of NBC's ‘Late Night' was doing his best to stay in the present and take each new insane development as it comes. In this episode, Meyers talks about how he ended up releasing a stand-up special (‘Dad Man Walking' on Max) that has nothing to do with politics so close to the election. He also shares thoughts about his infamous ice cream date with Joe Biden, why he regrets platforming JD Vance on his show, how SNL's reliance on guest stars has changed the show since he was in the cast, and so much more.This episode was originally published on October 30, 2024.Follow Seth Meyers on Instagram @sethmeyers Follow Matt Wilstein on Bluesky @mattwilstein Follow The Last Laugh on Instagram @lastlaughpodHighlights from this episode and others at The Daily Beast Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This week, Alexander Skarsgård joins Seth and Josh on the pod! Alexander talks all about growing up in Stockholm (where he also joins the podcast from), what it was like having a more “hippie” upbringing, his experience growing up with a ton of siblings, one of his family's favorite vacation spots that's filled with islands, his memories from skiing to the South Pole with Prince Harry, and so much more! Plus, he chats about his TV show, Murderbot! Watch more Family Trips episodes: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLlqYOfxU_jQem4_NRJPM8_wLBrEEQ17B6 Family Trips is produced by Rabbit Grin Productions. Theme song written and performed by Jeff Tweedy. ------------------------- Support our sponsors: BeamFor a limited time, you can get UP TO 35% off plus 2 FREE gifts when you go to shopbeam.com/TRIPS and use code TRIPS at checkout Visit BaltimoreBaltimore is just a short drive or train ride from New York, Philly, and D.C. Plan your visit today at Baltimore.org Baltimore: You won't get it ‘til you get here! ------------------------- About the Show: Lifelong brothers Seth Meyers and Josh Meyers ask guests to relive childhood memories, unforgettable family trips, and other disasters! New Episodes of Family Trips with the Meyers Brothers are available every Tuesday. ------------------------- Executive Producers: Rob Holysz, Jeph Porter, Natalie Holysz Creative Producer: Sam Skelton Coordinating Producer: Derek Johnson Video Editor: Josh Windisch Mix & Master: Josh Windisch Episode Artwork: Analise Jorgensen Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Do you remember December 17th, 2005? It's the day SNL first aired the digital short Lazy Sunday by The Lonely Island. A sketch that changed SNL forever and literally started people watching YouTube. And now to celebrate those digital shorts, Seth Meyers, Andy Samberg, Akiva Schaffer, and Jorma Taccone are launching The Lonely Island and Seth Meyers Podcast. They're going to dive back into each of those digital shorts, how they came about, and what else happened on SNL that episode. They're going to discuss them in order, which means the good and the bad. And sometimes, to be honest, the bad are more fun to talk about. Find out how the sausage got made, or in this case, how the dick got in the box. Not all the clips we mention are available online. Some of them never even aired. But these are the ones we could find. Are we doing show notes right?Bing Bong Brothers - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z4iiyRv_NrQCooper 360 | Katrina - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SWppRSO6UPwIf you want to see more photos and clips follow us on Instagram @thelonelyislandpod. Wonderful PistachiosGrab a bag today. www.wonderfulpistachios.comVuoriGet 20% off your FIRST purchase. Get yourself some of the most comfortable and versatile clothing on the planet at vuori.com/ISLANDCashAppDownload Cash App Today: https://capl.onelink.me/vFut/w3eekzve #CashAppPod Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In an all-new episode of Late Night's podcast “A Closer Look Back,” A Closer Look Supervising Writer/Producer Sal Gentile discusses Trump's desperate attempt to sell his illegal strike on Iran and debates whether Saddam Hussein was more like Wile E. Coyote or the Road Runner. He also discusses Bernie Sanders' interview with Joe Rogan and Zohran Mamdani's win in NYC. Sal is joined by Supervising Producer Emily Erotas.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Johnny Mac covers the latest comedy news, including an interview with Steph Tolev discussing her rock concert-esque comedy style. Iliza Shlesinger offers advice for comics about the necessity of pursuing their craft without seeking permission. Seth Meyers talks about how podcasts influence late-night talk shows, and the importance of authentic political discussions. The episode also includes a deep dive into a controversial Simpsons episode where (spoilers).Jamie Foxx's recent show cancellations raise concerns, while Jimmy O. Yang reflects on his American upbringing juxtaposed with his Hong Kong heritage. Lastly, the episode celebrates Mel Brooks' 99th birthday and reviews The Guardian's ranking of his top comedy films.Get the show without ads. Five bucks.  For Apple users, hit the banner on your Apple podcasts app which says UNINTERRUPTED LISTENING. For Spotify or other players, visit caloroga.com/plus.    Contact John at john@thesharkdeck dot com  John's free substack about the media:  Media Thoughts  is mcdpod.substack.com DCN on Threads: https://www.threads.net/@dailycomedynews https://linktr.ee/dailycomedynewsBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/daily-comedy-news--4522158/support.

Recorded every Thursday after the audience has left Studio 8G, and witnessed only by scattered members of the Late Night staff and crew… This is Corrections: The Podcast.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

In this episode of Game Dev Advice, writer and comedian Mike Drucker shares his journey across the worlds of television, video games, and comedy. Starting as an assistant and researcher at Saturday Night Live, Mike moved into game localization at Nintendo—where he even played basketball with Reggie Fils-Aimé—before joining The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon as a writer and then Full Frontal with Samantha Bee. He dives into the creative challenges of translating humor across mediums, from crafting jokes for a global audience to building narrative in games. We also discuss his book, Good Game, No Rematch, a funny and heartfelt exploration of growing up with games, self-doubt, and finding meaning in pop culture. Mike shares behind-the-scenes stories from working at IGN, creating mock news shows, and writing for Mystery Science Theater 3000. Packed with industry insights and honest advice for aspiring writers, this conversation highlights the importance of joy, resilience, and staying passionate in your craft. Bio: Mike Drucker is an Emmy-nominated, Writers Guild Award–winning comedian, writer, and producer based in New York. He's written for The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon, Full Frontal with Samantha Bee, Bill Nye Saves the World, and more. At Nintendo of America, he worked on Kid Icarus: Uprising and Mario Party 9. His latest book, Good Game, No Rematch, blends humor and heart in a memoir about growing up, video games, and pop culture. Show Links: *Good Game, No Rematch - https://www.amazon.com/dp/1668015477 *Late Night with Seth Meyers interview - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ltVPFFSgUkE *Chrono Trigger – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chrono_Trigger en.wikipedia.org+5en.wikipedia.org+5en.wikipedia.org+5 *Persona 5 – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Persona_5 en.wikipedia.org+12en.wikipedia.org+12megamitensei.fandom.com+12 *Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clair_Obscur:_Expedition_33 *IGN's Up at Noon - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l6fBaggwNcg *Mystery Science Theater 3000 - https://www.youtube.com/@MST3K *Bill Nye Saves Saves the World - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g-_HKOcYBK8 *The Onion Book of Known Knowledge - https://www.amazon.com/Onion-Book-Known-Knowledge-Encyclopaedia/dp/0316133264/ Connect With Links: Mike Drucker on Bluesky - https://bsky.app/profile/mikedrucker.bsky.social Mike Drucker on Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/mikedruckerisdead/ Mike Drucker on TikTok - https://www.tiktok.com/@mikedruckerisdead Game Dev Advice Links: * Website: show notes, links, stuff - https://www.gamedevadvice.com * Patreon: career coaching through the Gain Wisdom membership - https://www.patreon.com/gamedevadvice * YouTube: main channel link - https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCvkY8LxjGyOPqlQKuRlObhg * Game Dev Advice hotline: (224) 484-7733 * Email: reach out - info@gamedevadvice.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Seth takes a closer look at the head of NATO calling Donald Trump "daddy," Trump saying he deserves a Nobel Peace Prize for bombing Iran and Bernie Sanders talking to Joe Rogan about why it's bad to fall in love with AI chatbots.Then, Allison Williams talks about the M3GAN franchise expanding into the action genre, the time she got absolutely roasted by ChatGPT and how she feels about her famous Girls scene.Following that, Jeffrey Dean Morgan reveals why he originally did not want to host Destination X, tests his knowledge on famous European landmarks and talks about getting recognized from his role in Grey's Anatomy.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Seth and Josh are back with the monthly listener episode! We hear a few hilarious stories from listeners including the time one woman's father dropped the family off halfway up a mountain, what happened when one family accidentally left their dog behind, and one listener's recounting of her family's first time on a plane! Plus, Seth and Josh answer some questions! Want to submit your family trips story for our next listener episode? Or send a question in to Seth and Josh? Submit your voicemail to speakpipe.com/familytripspod!" Watch more Family Trips episodes: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLlqYOfxU_jQem4_NRJPM8_wLBrEEQ17B6 Family Trips is produced by Rabbit Grin Productions. Theme song written and performed by Jeff Tweedy. ------------------------- Support our sponsors: Uplift Desk Elevate your workspace with UPLIFT Desk. Go to https://upliftdesk.com/trips for a special offer exclusive to our audience. ------------------------- About the Show: Lifelong brothers Seth Meyers and Josh Meyers ask guests to relive childhood memories, unforgettable family trips, and other disasters! New Episodes of Family Trips with the Meyers Brothers are available every Tuesday. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Seth takes a closer look at Donald Trump illegally bombing Iran, saying he was not at war with Iran and then claiming there was a ceasefire.Then, Charlize Theron talks about preparing for her physically intense role in "The Old Guard 2," how her daughters reacted to the mullet haircut she got for the movie and her charity Charlize Theron: Africa Outreach Project Block Party.Following that, Jason Mantzoukas talks about why he loved competing on "Taskmaster," getting terrible food poisoning while filming the show and his dream "Downton Abbey" role.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Seth takes a closer look at Trump floating the possibility of regime change in Iran after an illegal military strike that was not authorized by Congress, to which Iran then responded by firing missiles at an American base in Qatar.Then, Matty Matheson talks about his cookbook Soup, Salad, Sandwiches; landing his role on "The Bear" while working as a consultant on the show; and the story behind his tattoos.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

This week The Lonely Island and Seth Meyers discuss the SNL episode hosted by Zac Efron! They chat about their digital short that never aired, Guys in Sunglasses Lookin' Dope, plus they recall fun memories from sketches like Balcony Songs, High School Musical 4: Senior Class, Gino's Pizza Rolls, and more! Show Notes: Digman! Season 2 Trailer | https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KlIGCms7nHI The Naked Gun - Official Trailer (2025) Liam Neeson, Pamela Anderson | https://youtu.be/hCVH_nyhQsM?si=edG2fTzHnfvQR0rl Beastie Boys Perform ""Ch-Check It Out"" From The Subway To The Stage | Letterman | https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_pMrNnzJIh4 1920's Party (“Don't make me sing” )| https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zSnCjyoMNgs The Jolly Trolly Allows Underage Drinking | https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0vsNY40Ym20 High School Musical 4 | https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNUKou8vnJQ I Am Your Mother | https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HphFPQvAWHY Kung Fury 2 LEAKED Sizzle Reel | 2025| https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sDD6izSZInw Support our sponsors: Vuori Get 20% off your FIRST purchase. Get yourself some of the most comfortable and versatile clothing on the planet at vuori.com/ISLAND Shopify Sign up for your one-dollar-per-month trial and start selling today at SHOPIFY.COM/ lonelyisland CashApp Download Cash App Today: https://capl.onelink.me/vFut/w3eekzve #CashAppPod Factor Get started at factormeals.com/ISLAND50OFF and use code ISLAND50OFF to get 50 percent off plus FREE shipping on your first box. " Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Please enjoy this encore of Word Notes. Software libraries, frameworks, packages, and other components, and their dependencies (third-party code that each component uses) that have inherent security weaknesses, either through newly discovered vulnerabilities or because newer versions have superseded the deployed version.  Audio reference Link: "⁠The Panama Papers: A Closer Look⁠," Late Night with Seth Meyers, YouTube, 12 April 2016

Please enjoy this encore of Word Notes. Software libraries, frameworks, packages, and other components, and their dependencies (third-party code that each component uses) that have inherent security weaknesses, either through newly discovered vulnerabilities or because newer versions have superseded the deployed version.  Audio reference Link: "⁠The Panama Papers: A Closer Look⁠," Late Night with Seth Meyers, YouTube, 12 April 2016 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Seth Meyers on stage for the opening night of the 14th Season of the ATX Television Festival. Photo by Paul Daley. Copyright 2025. We're kicking off Pod Clubhouse's special coverage of ATX Television Festival: Season 14 with Day 1! Paul takes Caroline and Mike through an eventful day that included insightful panels for "The Four Seasons," "Andor," and "The Waterfront." Plus, he dishes all about the hilarious opening night Marquee event featuring the always-entertaining Seth Meyers. Stick around for Paul's recap of the TV Trivia night—trust us, Caroline and Mike definitely regretted missing this one! You can find ALL of your ATX TV Festival Information at the Official ATX Website HERE (atxfestival.com) Past ATX Coverage 2024 ATX Season 13: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 2023 ATX Season 12: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 2022 ATX Season 11: 1 | 2 2021 ATX Season 10: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 Credits:  Music: “Summer Festivals Are Coming” by Infraction, licensed by Pod Clubhouse. Podcast Recorded and Produced at Pod Clubhouse Studios.

Seth takes a closer look at Ted Cruz and Tucker Carlson grilling each other in a very heated discussion about the merits of U.S. military intervention in Iran. Then, Chris Hayes talks about elected officials and law-abiding people getting detained by ICE, breaks down the heated debate between Ted Cruz and Tucker Carlson and discusses his wife, Kate Shaw's viral moment about nationwide injunctions.Following that, Mike Birbiglia talks about Seth telling him he would be a bad day drinking guest, shares his dad's reaction to his stand-up special, "The Good Life," and chats about receiving an email offering him a movie role. Plus, Mike continues the conversation backstage at Studio 8G exclusively for this podcast.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Recorded every Thursday after the audience has left Studio 8G, and witnessed only by scattered members of the Late Night staff and crew… This is Corrections: The Podcast.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Seth takes a closer look at masked agents arresting yet another Democratic elected official without explaining why and Donald Trump threatening to plunge the U.S. into another disastrous war in the Middle East.Then, Cole Escola talks about accepting their Tony Award for "Oh, Mary!" in a tribute gown to Bernadette Peters, visiting Laura Keene's grave for inspiration for the play and watching Betty Gilpin and Tituss Burgess take over their role in the show.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Seth Meyers gave a pretty clear answer when he was asked for the 100th time if he's taking over SNL, and Allison Williams had a teenage fantasy that would terrify 99.9% of all people. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Seth takes a closer look at Donald Trump being very sad that his poorly attended Army-themed birthday party was overshadowed by massive nationwide protests.Then, Arnold Schwarzenegger talks about doing Variety's Actors on Actors with his son Patrick Schwarzenegger and discusses Andy Warhol and Grace Jones showing up late to his wedding before FaceTiming Gabriel Luna to talk about Season 2 of FUBAR.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Tony, John, and Dan Gilroy join Seth and Josh on the pod this week! They talk all about growing up with a father who was a playwright, going to Broadway shows their whole childhood, what unplanned adventures their family took together, their sibling dynamics as they got older, a trip to The Grand Canyon, and so much more! Plus, they talk about season two of the show all three brothers for on together, Andor, now streaming on Disney+. Watch more Family Trips episodes: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLlqYOfxU_jQem4_NRJPM8_wLBrEEQ17B6 Family Trips is produced by Rabbit Grin Productions. Theme song written and performed by Jeff Tweedy. ------------------------- Support our sponsors: Blueland Blueland has a special offer for listeners. Right now, get 15% off your first order by going to Blueland.com/trips Cash App Download Cash App Today: https://capl.onelink.me/vFut/4aafc4yf #CashAppPod Get Soul Right now, Soul is offering our audience 30% off your entire order! Go to GetSoul.com and use the code TRIPS ------------------------- About the Show: Lifelong brothers Seth Meyers and Josh Meyers ask guests to relive childhood memories, unforgettable family trips, and other disasters! New Episodes of Family Trips with the Meyers Brothers are available every Tuesday. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This week The Lonely Island and Seth Meyers talk about the digital short, Like a Boss! Plus, they also chat about memories of The Rock hosting SNL and sketches like The Rock Obama, Hawaiian Hotel, The Lighthouse, Muppet Bus with Seth Rogan, and more! Like A Boss (ft. Seth Rogen) - Uncensored Version | https://youtu.be/NisCkxU544c?si=Df8ZWRPjnTpvZiMi Like A Boss (SNL Version) | https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Us_Zf_IDFO8 Alexa, play me some hot garbage (this actually works) | https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=315c3jHUh5I Factor Get started at factormeals.com/ISLAND50OFF and use code ISLAND50OFF to get 50 percent off plus FREE shipping on your first box. Mint Mobile Get your summer savings and shop premium wireless plans at MINTMOBILE.com/ISLAND. Wonderful Pistachios Grab a bag today. www.wonderfulpistachios.com Smalls For a limited time only, get 60% off your first order, plus free shipping when you head to Smalls.com and use code TIRE. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Recorded every Thursday after the audience has left Studio 8G, and witnessed only by scattered members of the Late Night staff and crew… This is Corrections: The Podcast.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Seth takes a closer look at Donald Trump claiming that immigration raids are hurting farmers.Then, Jeff Goldblum brings up four separate points that he would like to discuss with Seth, such as pedestrian etiquette and handshakes, before talking about his album, "Still Blooming."See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Seth takes a closer look at President Trump spreading misinformation about the Los Angeles protests by making them out to be out of control.Then, Conan O'Brien talks about Lorne Michaels fighting for him to take over the "Late Night" desk, some of his least favorite bits his writers would pitch him and how he turned from talk show hosting to podcast hosting.Following that, Jenny Slate talks about her nightmare experience on a plane with a screaming cat, being an avid crier and working on her show "Dying for Sex."See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Seth takes a closer look at the Trump administration sending federal troops to Los Angeles in response to protests over immigration raids.Then, Henry Winkler talks about officiating a wedding, his graduation advice to college students and the craziest real facts from his show "Hazardous History with Henry Winkler."Plus, exclusively for this podcast, Henry continues the conversation backstage at Studio 8G. See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

MUSICKid Rock's new Nashville restaurant, The Detroit Cowboy, is open and the reviews are MIXED. All-American Rejects frontman Tyson Ritter is launching an OnlyFans account, ahead of the band's single "Easy Cum Easy Go," dropping on June 5. Korn's James "Munky" Shaffer and ex-Foo Fighters drummer Josh Freese guest on a new single from Vowws called "Shudder." A-Ha singer Morten Harket has been diagnosed with Parkinson's disease and may never perform again. Let's lower the music track and listen to the vocals only on their 1985 #1 hit, "Take On Me". (The little throat noises he makes to the beat of the song are interesting to hear. They're usually hidden in the mix.) TVConan O'Brien will be a guest on "Late Night with Seth Meyers" next Wednesday. It'll be his first time back on the show since he left the host's chair in February of 2009.The documentary "John Candy: I Like Me", will hit Prime Video on October 10th. It was directed by Colin Hanks and produced by Ryan Reynolds.· Forbes released their 2025 list of the country's 100 richest self-made women.These are the 16 celebrities who made the cut:Oprah Winfrey: $3.1 billionKim Kardashian: $1.7 billionTaylor Swift: $1.6 billionRihanna: $1 billionMadonna: $850 millionBeyoncé: $780 millionSelena Gomez: $700 millionKylie Jenner: $670 million (IS she self-made???)Judy Sheindlin (Judge Judy): $580 millionCeline Dion: $570 millionBarbra Streisand: $510 millionTIE: Ellen DeGeneres and Dolly Parton: $450 millionReese Witherspoon: $440 million MOVING ON INTO MOVIE NEWS:Jason Momoa and Andy Samberg are teaming up for a brand-new action comedy that has landed at Netflix after a highly competitive situation, according to Deadline. Octavia Spencer will star again in Ma 2, the sequel to the 2019 film that has become a social phenomenon since its release.Dakota Johnson and Chris Martin have ended their nearly eight-year, on-and-off relationship. Sources tell People magazine, "It feels final this time."In "The Outsiders", Patrick Swayze was just one of several up-and-coming studs in the cast, and he wasn't even the most famous one at the time.AND FINALLYThe Switch 2 is here … Today is the big day that the Nintendo Switch 2 is released to the public. If you didn't pre-order one and if you're interested in getting your hands on one, some big stores like Walmart and GameStop have confirmed some inventory that they're selling both in-store and online. Once retailers are sold out, you'll have to wait until they get restocked – or try your luck buying one from a scalper on the secondary market.Follow us @RizzShow @MoonValjeanHere @KingScottRules @LernVsRadio @IamRafeWilliams - Check out King Scott's Linktr.ee/kingscottrules + band @FreeThe2SG and Check out Moon's bands GREEK FIRE @GreekFire GOLDFINGER @GoldfingerMusic THE TEENAGE DIRTBAGS @TheTeenageDbags and Lern's band @LaneNarrows ⁠http://www.1057thepoint.com/RizzSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.