Podcasts about Shh

This week, we're off to Cuba! Highlights include: - Prepare for a Congo addendum... - Would you go and live with aliens for a week? - Tabletopia is bad enough without being in a different language... - It's basically just war and crime... - Shh! Don't tell the Yanks...

Adam, Michael, and Abe embark with you, the King Among Beans. Our KABs. Our little kabbies. This new show features nothing in particular at all. If you've been waiting to hear our three hosts unleashed, this is the pod for you. The show about nothing! That's not taken, right? This pilot episode is available for free on all feeds, but from here on in… Shh, this is going to be our little secret. :winky-face: :youandmeandacanofbeans::hotbeanaction: Find the rest of this podcast at patreon.com/SmallBeans and subscribe to our King Among Beans tier.

If you often leave interactions feeling drained or emotionally overwhelmed, you're not imagining it. Many of us unconsciously feel other people's feelings, and it can leave us carrying emotional weight that doesn't belong to us. In this episode of Somatic Healing Meditations, we'll explore a somatic approach to creating energetic boundaries that support your sensitive nervous system. You'll learn why your body feels other people's feelings, why this leads to exhaustion, and how to reconnect with your own internal space. This Energetic Boundary Meditation for Empaths will guide you step by step as you rebuild a felt sense of “me” inside your own body. It's soothing, protective, and deeply clarifying. If you've ever struggled to separate your emotions from someone else's, this meditation is for you. In this episode: Why You Feel Other People's Feelings Energetic Boundary Meditation for Empaths Learn more about boundaries and your nervous system: https://helloinnerlight.com/somatic-healing-meditations/when-you-feel-other-peoples-feelings-energetic-boundary-meditation-for-empaths Exciting Announcement! Applications are now open for Rooted + Resilient, my six-month small-group program for deep somatic healing. If you've spent years trying to change your patterns through mindset work or therapy but still feel stuck in the same emotional loops, this is the space where things finally shift. Rooted + Resilient is the best way to work with me because we go to the level that truly matters: the subconscious and somatic roots that shape everything you feel, fear, and believe. As those layers dissolve, you naturally begin to move through life with more confidence, ease, and inner steadiness. If you're longing for real change, the kind that your body can actually feel, I'd love for you to apply: https://learn.helloinnerlight.com/GrQ1265 Ready to find your center, quiet your mind, and step off the roller coaster of stress and overwhelm? You're invited to join me in Somatic Healing Hub! SHH is a beautiful, deeply supportive online community filled with the structure, support, and somatic practices to help you actually feel better in your body - and create real change in your life. Inside, you'll get ad-free access to the Somatic Healing Meditations podcast! Each week, I guide multiple live somatic healing classes - calming, grounded practices to regulate your nervous system and reconnect with your inner world. There's also monthly group coaching with me, heart-centered workshops, and an extensive library of powerful body-based resources to support your healing journey. Your nervous system. Your emotions. Your healing — lovingly supported. Learn more and enroll now! Connect with Karena: @helloinnerlight on Instagram, and YouTube Find ALL of the amazing Somatic Healing Meditations here Submit a question for the podcast: Your Healing, Your Questions Free mini-course: The Feel it to Heal it Mini-Course ENROLLING NOW! Rooted + Resilient 6-month program Get AD-FREE access to this podcast, plus live classes, workshops, and group coaching in Somatic Healing Hub Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

So many of us are living in bodies that have forgotten what safety feels like. Even when life is calm, our nervous systems can stay in protection mode, keeping us stressed, tense, and constantly scanning for what might go wrong. This somatic meditation is an invitation to change that. Using gentle Havening touch, orienting, and other soothing regulation techniques, you'll learn how to create cues of safety that speak directly to your nervous system. These small, body-based signals tell your system, “It's safe enough to soften now.” Over time, they help your body recalibrate from protection into connection, so safety becomes something you can actually feel. Whether your body feels anxious, disconnected, or just constantly “on,” this practice will help you re-establish a sense of grounded ease and inner steadiness. Take this time to slow down, reconnect, and recalibrate your nervous system so you feel safe in your body again. Perfect for: nervous system regulation, feeling safe in your body, grounding, trauma healing and emotional balance. In this episode: How to Create Cues of Safety to Heal Your Nervous System Somatic Meditation to Create Cues of Safety How to do Havening touch Havening and Orienting “Squeeze and Sigh” Noticing Cues of Safety Within and Around You Learn more about Havening Techniques and the science behind them Related: find more nervous system healing meditations here Read more about safety cues and how to feel safe in your body here Havening Techniques is a registered trademark of Ronald Ruden, 15 East 91st Street, New York. www.havening.org Upcoming free Training: The Secret Wisdom of Your Triggers Join me for a powerful 75-minute class where I'll teach you a new, compassionate paradigm of emotional healing - one that helps you begin to understand your triggers in a deeper, more integrated way. You'll learn how your triggers are connected to the subconscious mind, gain insight into the emotional patterns that shape your life, and explore the three biggest mistakes that keep so many of us stuck and spinning. Register for free at https://helloinnerlight.com/tswoyt Ready to find your center, quiet your mind, and step off the roller coaster of stress and overwhelm? You're invited to join me in Somatic Healing Hub! SHH is a beautiful, deeply supportive online community filled with the structure, support, and somatic practices to help you actually feel better in your body - and create real change in your life. Inside, you'll get ad-free access to the Somatic Healing Meditations podcast! Each week, I guide multiple live somatic healing classes - calming, grounded practices to regulate your nervous system and reconnect with your inner world. There's also monthly group coaching with me, heart-centered workshops, and an extensive library of powerful body-based resources to support your healing journey. Your nervous system. Your emotions. Your healing — lovingly supported. Learn more and enroll now! __ Connect with Karena: @helloinnerlight on Instagram, and YouTube Find ALL of the amazing Somatic Healing Meditations here 1:1 Somatic Healing Sessions with Karena Somatic Self-Love Retreat in Costa Rica Free mini-course: The Feel it to Heal it Mini-Course Free training: The Secret Wisdom of Your Triggers Get AD-FREE access to this podcast, plus live classes, workshops, and group coaching in Somatic Healing Hub Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Host Matt Burgess talks with Canadian genetic counsellor Rachel Vanneste about lessons learned from early-career mistakes, the unexpected charm of the sonic hedgehog gene (SHH), and how sales and business skills are shaping modern genetic counselling. They discuss counselling in a second language, career pivots across clinic, industry and labs, the case for embedding genetic counselling in primary care, and the importance of volunteering in the profession.

This somatic meditation is an invitation to explore a gentler (and more effective) way of working with your thoughts.

It's October, which means it's the start of Spooky Season. If you've been listening to Dinky for the past three years, you know we always do a Halloween episode – two of which have included our favorite, recurring guest star, Sapphire Sandalo. You might recognize her as a co-host on the Travel Channel TV shows ‘Ghost Town Terror' or from her appearances on ‘Paranormal Caught on Camera.' She also has her own award-winning podcast, Stories With Sapphire. Today, Sapphire rejoins the Dinky crew to chat about her new short film, as well as chat about witches. And this year we're trying something new – we're doing a whole month of spooky childfree tales across our Patreon bonus & regular episodes, including more stories spotlighting childfree witches and more spooky childfree/childless women. Learn more about Sapphire's new short film, BREEDER, and support the film HERE.Soft re-launching MERCH! (Shh.) Get your merch HERE. New Dinky trip alert!! Erika is taking a group of childfree travelers to VIETNAM — and it's an artsy adventurer's dream itinerary! Buy your tickets while they last. The Dinky Patreon is officially live! Join now to support the show + gain access to weekly, ad-free episodes, chat with us & other childfree pals in the Dinky Discord, join our virtual book club, and more! Wanna get your finances in order? Use our link to sign up for a FREE 34 day trial of YNAB (You Need A Budget) and support the show. Wanna connect with us on social media? You can find us on Substack, Instagram, TikTok, and Threads at @dinkypod. Follow us on YouTube.If you have a question or comment, email us at dinky@dinkypod.comBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/dinky--5953015/support.

We all know what it feels like to be stuck. That quiet frustration of seeing the pattern so clearly, wanting so badly to change it, and yet somehow ending up in the same place again.

Latest EONE episode discusses the latest Patch notes with some commentary. Rambo discusses the recent 'drama' within SHH regarding some corps/alliances leaving the Silent Federation. Amongst other discussions and talk about the recent super losses and player frustrations. 

Your heart carries an intelligence all its own … and it's waiting for you to drop in and listen.

In this episode, Erika and Kristen dive into the complexities of marriage, exploring whether it is truly hard or if it depends on circumstances. They share personal experiences, discuss societal expectations, and analyze YOUR feedback via Instagram Stories. Plus, we touch on the impact of children in marriage and the importance of communication and compatibility.Soft re-launching MERCH! (Shh.) Get your merch HERE. New Dinky trip alert!! Erika is taking a group of childfree travelers to VIETNAM — and it's an artsy adventurer's dream itinerary! Buy your tickets while they last. Only two more weeks to book your tickets and join us for our CHRISTMAS MARKETS trip. The Dinky Patreon is officially live! Join now to support the show + gain access to weekly, ad-free episodes, chat with us & other childfree pals in the Dinky Discord, join our virtual book club, and more! Wanna get your finances in order? Use our link to sign up for a FREE 34 day trial of YNAB (You Need A Budget) and support the show. Wanna connect with us on social media? You can find us on Substack, Instagram, TikTok, and Threads at @dinkypod. Follow us on YouTube for Regretful Parents content.If you have a question or comment, email us at dinky@dinkypod.comBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/dinky--5953015/support.

✨ So often, we move through our days carrying feelings we haven't had time to notice. When our feelings go unacknowledged, they don't disappear… they linger in the body, showing up as stress, tension, and a sense of being disconnected from ourselves. In this episode of Somatic Healing Meditations, I guide you through a Daily Emotional Reset. It's a soothing somatic practice to gently check in with yourself, shift your emotional state, and calm your nervous system. Think of it as daily tending: a compassionate reset that gives your emotions the care they've been asking for. This practice combines soothing self-touch with the simple but powerful act of naming what you feel (inspired by a process called Transpirational Havening). Together, these tools help quiet the amygdala, soften emotional intensity, and open space for more clarity and compassion. If you've been longing for a simple, supportive way to feel calmer, clearer, and more connected to yourself, this episode is for you.

Looking for a gentle way to regulate your emotions? In this episode of Somatic Healing Meditations, Karena guides you through a Somatic Meditation for Emotional Regulation using a powerful process called Regenerating Images in Memory® (RIM). True emotional regulation isn't about being calm all the time or forcing difficult feelings to go away. It's about having a way to return to safety and clarity inside, even in the middle of strong emotions. And the key to doing this is deep listening: turning toward your emotions with presence instead of pushing them aside. Instead of pushing your emotions down or trying to control them, this meditation will help you practice deep listening and inner attunement - so your nervous system can settle and you can return to a place of safety and clarity within. This practice is a simple yet profound way to care for your inner world and experience how emotional regulation naturally unfolds when you meet yourself with compassion and inner listening. In this episode What Emotional Regulation Really Means Somatic Meditation for Emotional Regulation (using Regenerating Images in Memory) Related: Try more Somatic Emotional Processing meditations here! Read more about emotional regulation here! ✨ Ready to find your center, quiet your mind, and step off the roller coaster of stress and overwhelm? You're invited to join me in Somatic Healing Hub! SHH is a beautiful, deeply supportive online community filled with the structure, support, and somatic practices to help you actually feel better in your body - and create real change in your life.

In this week's episode, Javvad Malik and Erich Kron wade through the latest cybersecurity soap opera where silence, spin, and shady stats take center stage: 61% of U.S. companies claim they've been hit by insider breaches. Is this a shocking revelation… or just the result of someone finally checking the logs? CISOs are under growing pressure to zip it about incidents. Because nothing says “strong security posture” like sweeping breaches under the rug and hoping the auditors don't trip over the lump. Hackers are holding Google's data hostage unless two threat intel employees get the boot. Extortion? Performance review outsourcing? You decide. Meanwhile in the UK, the government sat on a secret breach review for two years before sheepishly releasing it. Because transparency apparently has an expiration date. Grab your headphones as we unpack what these stories really mean for security leaders, why “insider risk” is the boogeyman of the week, and how the industry's favorite strategy still seems to be: “Shh… maybe they won't notice.”

If you've ever longed for a bedtime story that feels both magical and deeply calming, you're in for a treat. ✨ In this week's episode of Somatic Healing Meditations, I'm sharing a special feature from the beloved podcast Sleep & Sorcery, created by Laurel Hostak Jones.

You might feel completely exhausted at night, but if your nervous system is still “on,” your body won't fully let go into rest.

✨ You're more YOU when your nervous system feels safe. In this episode of Somatic Healing Meditations, we'll explore the neuroscience behind what it really means to be your best self (and how nervous system healing makes that possible). When you're dysregulated, you have less access to your prefrontal cortex, the part of your brain responsible for clarity, compassion, nuanced thought, emotional regulation, and values-based decision making. Instead, your system shifts into survival mode, leading to reactivity, rigidity, or disconnection. But when you're regulated, you reconnect with the best qualities that make you who you truly are. You become more grounded, more present, and more able to live from wisdom, compassion, and care.

Competition at the country club; I must admit I haven't had the habit yet Of psyching out the competition But I haven't even had it yet I'm simply always better and ahead (especially in blind audiences and unpaid promotion numbers) Taking out the competition Everything is tailored custom made and never miss an invitation Simple stocks and bonds You've got more toxic numbers Groms, And undercrossed fingers Simple stocks and bongs You don't belong here But you're locked in as a blonde here James bond bandit And Jennifer Anniston's antics (only water and cucumber, Never salt or carbs I'm hardly even made of carbon, You know Ha Ha Ha.) Mr. Always. Mr. Present. Mr. Precise. Mr. Heaven Mr. Rampage Mr. Me, right? Mr. Yeah Right Mr. Maybe Mr. Mistake Mr. Thank You Mr. Please Me Mr. You're late But where's Mr. Headache? But where's the Kardashian? But where's Mr. Be Straight and On Time And Unconscious? And where's Mr. These Days? And where's Mr. Keep a blade in your pocket? Cause you're one to one with the whole lot of Obstacles So there you are again Throw you off your horse? There must be a room for this Or a template. L E G E N D S That leaving you have in your feeling as a heart… Don't want to watch to go but want Want Want Lost the for you wonder don't know Younger water but I Want Want Want Dealing with my broken parts Underground and in the storage room I don't know what's left of earth But last I heard of her The world was broken I want the window the closed But it won't minimize Left the top open Might as well have been the door I used to lock them, But not anymore The whole world is stolen V.o. You know that magic trick where you're bending a spoon with your mind? BLŪ pulls a BAKING SHEET out of the OVEN with a melted plastic spoon on it. This isn't like that at all. HANZEL Yu Vere Bazically Vurking Wit Nazis. Shh! Don't Say that! HANZEL CONT'D (Shrugging dismissively) Vhat. Jew Vere. {Enter The Multiverse} I got six press kits Costs a fee to book a gig Come with me you could get ditched Come to Vegas, Could get Hitched (Real Love!) I don't wanna take your time up, Cause that be some of mine, hun N if you're tryna find fun, Should probably bring the wine Techno but need a nine? No Ten, I am a diamond Stevie, I'm a blind ya Wonder if that's a low blow But none of that's below me Know you know I ain't your homie I'm the only on who know me Not a worry, I believe you— You don't need me,I don't need you Now you See me: No you don't—Hope to see me {Enter The Multiverse} The Complex Collective © [The Festival Project, Inc. ™ ] -Ū.

What if your emotions aren't the problem? What if it's the resistance to them that's making everything feel harder?

Shh, we're not really back yet... it's still the lazy days of summer, and much needed rest and recuperation is taking place. But the slow grind of content waits for no fae, and so we are dipping our toes back into the airwaves with an episode here and episode there for the next handful of weeks. To that end, today we present On the Umber Road, a homebrew book from Thomas Milare that dropped on our heads pretty unexpectedly. The book gives a thorough treatment of the Barony of Nutfield in New Hampshire, detailing places both real and chimerical, a cast of eclectic characters, and some goings-on beneath the surface that suggest the charming town of Derry is more than meets the eye... We chatted with the author to find out more about the book and see what it can bring to the fans. Make yourself a nice cup of tea and settle in as we explore this first volume of The Nutfield Codex—we're keen to see what comes next. (This episode also overcame technical difficulties to manifest, so hopefully no wonky sound artifacts made it through post-production. Apologies in advance if they did.) You can pick up the book itself at https://www.storytellersvault.com/product/526970?affiliate_id=3063731, and Tom has created an Instagram account for visual inspirations around Derry at https://www.instagram.com/the_nutfield_codex/. For all your other socialization needs, we humbly suggest our own winding road of links: Discord: https://discord.me/ctp Email: podcast@changelingthepodcast.com Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100082973960699 Mastodon: https://dice.camp/@ChangelingPod Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/changelingthepodcast YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@ChangelingThePodcast your hosts Josh Hillerup (any pronoun) holds with those who favor fire. Pooka G (any pronoun/they) has promises to keep, but miles to go before they sleep, so leave a message after the beep.

The Collective Complex Foundation Art Series Mixes 001. 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. 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} Copyright The Collective Complex © [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] © 2025 All Rights Reserved -Ū. 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.

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.

“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.

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Pools of blood, And pools of dust, And fools, and fools, and fools Pools of love, And pools of list And tools and tools, and tools Pools of us, And Pools of hours And palms of pools D'hors Pools of plants, And pools of listen Pools and Pools and Pools Now, for us, what's at stake has come upon us For whether which now or ever ties have made for us to burn; Ne'er mistake there lust for listens and of ponders, Waterfalls of love and feathers, wanders Ties to honor stars and fore of fathers Almost lost it, there, I– Almost gathered, therefore. [ ] So to us who part ties, Of tied knots and of stomach's wrench To nourish shadows as remains her honor, I, depart my once, I, as flocking doves, The twist'of fated never Bare I fear or fonder Where, where, for again (bare tied as to none) and again wakes as has but not in time, to grove– The box I paved and yet, Set aside not as slabs of stone Or ash and fire But there i wake In cedar pine and oak The turn of slumber as the glow of what I once did not know, Now has shined against My eyes as water Luminescence Oh Goddamnit. Peaking pride, the oath Again i wait and ne'er did I come, but forth I woke, and also thought Not one but worlds of color, And there i know, to heart the seas I parted Not shallow or in shallows waking, red as scarlet blood but mauve, and then, the coping stays of which I gathered here has Agape and aching, wet with pride and courage Forefront others As thought to know, I, And I become, as known, now not and. “All White World” Our ENSEMBLE awakens slowly in the void of light; an all white space seemingly endless and drenched in blinding light; slowly awakening as if upon a cloud, and yet, washed in the drenched brightness of an all white world–familiar and together, but also new; The uniformity of all white attire and the simplicity of symmetry–all alike but of many and also one. I promise there's pancakes; I promise there's porridge I primise there's light at the end of the tunnel (the end of the night and beginning of brunch) And yes, I promise a run And a run for the office (not by far) And not unpardoned I promise to pray And I promise to wait And i promise to ache In the acres I've laid Made of all green pastures And days and days Without saying my name Pass us over Now…. Hiatus, Hiatus, Hiatus! My maples for all of us, cornbread And cream of the coconut (cream of the coconut) Screams from the underworld (Calling! They're calling) And trees of the very best kind; Plush with fruits What a prosperous product A merciless giving A scrupulous foreign (For four eyes, not one on my forehead) –policy! Don't you know, Conan, That all this goes over my– Over my over– Over my Over my head, –like a snowball? Don't you know, though, That nothing goes over his– Over his over– Over his Over his head –no one throws that high! (Not in softball!) ENSEMBLE What an apocalypse! What an apocalypse! What a protocol! What a dunce! What an oddball! Don't you know Nothing goes over Goes over Goes over us Nothing goes over us Nothing goes over Nothing goes over No bombs being dropped And the worst has to come because Nobody's turning this off; It's a turning point Not a mantra! It's a saga And nothing less short than a– Awful apocalypse; Long hiatus and no-low doses of Polymorohypothesis– Whatever that is! Don't you know, Conan, They're all going wrong with us. No, There's no knowing the coat From the hotbox, the hoot from the horus, the laugh from the chopsticks, The room full of products Or coatrooms of corpses No, There's no knowing us But out of nowhere The hour comes running upon us, And so The show must go on The show must go on The show must go…. DIRECTOR CUT! WHAT! That was FABULOUS! I don't disagree with you. However– What is it now? A MAN hangs by nothing but seemingly a very tightly buckled pair of restraints, above his head–the source of the object from which he hangs unknown, he appears to almost float, in fact, in quite the sufferable struggle. Holy fuck, guy. You're still up here? The VOICE comes from above but is yet unseen, it appears as though two very tidy clean white tennis shoes appear to be holding the straps of these restraints in place. CONT'D That's amazing. No false ties, And no hard wars, And no jolly ranchers, Gob stoppers, or nerf ropes. No fruit roll ups, No lunchables, or gushers No hamburger helper And no candy crush Just Drugs And more Drugs And more Drugs and more Morons Donuts, and drag queens, Tim Hortons, And Mormons; Mothballs, and Roaches, And horseflies, And rodents – Now guess which long road you're on (guess which long road you're on) Guess which long road you're aaaaahhhhhh– HALT. Who goes there. What the fuck is THIS. Finally, two acts past intermission, The troll under the bridge has put his cancer in remission The redactions have acted as class-action warfare, McDonalds has sponsored us, But barely. Look: just. No. I'm not endorsing this. Why. Because! It's killing people! Shh! It is! He–'s uh–joking. Actors! Improvising! Hush. Left and right! Speaking of left and right– You know who our sponsors are, right? Of coure! This nonsense! No! The– Shh–! –Owners of this product. Beg your pardon. Do you know who owns this brand and company? No. Well, do your research. Immediately. I highly recommend that. This seems serious. Serious as a heart attack. ACTION! Fuck you! Nuhhhhh–fuck you, you fucking fuck! Look, you lost, alright. Ughhhhhh. It's three to one. Three to one?! Yes. Fuck. Wait a–wait– What. Aren't there five of you guys? What? Huh-huh? No. Yes. There are. No. There's. Why. Five–of us–four of us You're lying. One, two, three *hiccups* four– Strike force “five”? I'm two guys! FUCK. We're missing one. Fuck. They figured us out. I figured out nothing. I'm drunk. I Fluffed. just know the difference–s between Five and One What. Four and Five! okay . Fuck. Well that's right. Well can't we just do it with us. NO! Why not. Because. the singularity has to be in the exact circumstance when this lightning strikes as the first one was. But– That's impossible. It's not–*hiccups*--umpossible. I was 9! “9 and a half!” “The half counts.” But not right now! Because i'm like a 60 year old guy! What! Gross. You're 60?! I think so! Then how old am I!?! I don't know! How old were you before!? I'm your brother! You don't know how old I am!? You're not my brother now, so maybe–I don't know–you never were! *gasps* take that bacK! [The boys fight amongst eachother] Fuck me, man. No thank you. What in the fuck did I write. I don't know but. CUT TO Ooh. Dice. DON'T TOUCH *poof* ENTER THE MULTIVERSE: L E G E N D S “The Magic Dice” (A Triad) NICE. FUCK yOu DUDE. nO fuck U U dElEETED My WRLD. THen is must not have been that great. *exaggerateD gasp* *even more exaggerated gasp* *Fluffs* *fluffs harder* *explodes* [The Festival Project ™ ] MEANWHILE The Aliens Are On A Pirate Ship, There's Still No Sign of [Redacted] and that's what this beat is called. -U. iS this a montage? Idk it just seems like a ship sinking in very slow motion. [A pirate ship full of aliens is sinking in very slow motion in a thunderous maelstrom.] (in IMAX 3D) Wow. I like that. This is fascinating. JIMMY KIMMEL is pacing relentlessly; he is driving the other hosts up a wall. KIMMEL I'm hungry, I want pants. I'm hungry– I want pants– Jimmy... KIMMEL I'm hungry– Jimmy! KIMMEL I want pants! JIMMY! KIMMEL WHAT! I'M HUNGRY AND I WANT PANTS! Oh, is that when— CRAIG FURGUSON has had enough. CRAIG You want bloody pants! KIMMEL YES! I WANT PANTS! CRAIG You know what! Fine! I'll make you some fucking pants if you just–shut UP! KIMMEL AND I'M HUNGRY. CRAIG FIRST THINGS FIRST! CRAIG FURGUSON assembles some very eclectic pants from the drapery inside the mansion; this of course reveals the windows to be boarded up in a highly distinct bunker-like maximum security prison-ish fashion, but THE HOSTS at the very least now have makeshift pants; which are startlingly fashionable: read: bohemian chic. Why do mine have beads still attached? He pulls the decorative ripchord and his fly opens promptly. Oh. CRAIG FURGUSON For emergencies. He continues pulling it in sequence with the matching lamp; he alternates turning the lights on and off and opening and shutting his pants flap in admiration. CRAIG FURGUSON CONT'D In case you really have to go. (Facinated) Ooh! CRAIG FURGUSON is satisfied with his work. CRAIG FURGUSON CONT'D I guess you could say, “The curtains match the drapes” CONAN O'BRIEN (beat) …not mine. {Enter The Multiverse} Fearsome, fearsome friends– Fearsome fearsome few Fearsome fearsome tears Listen whispers Fearsome twin Silly hollows All the lies All that waits is Hollywood and chosen five at ends of times All that waits are kings and wisdom All that knows are far, and farther All that needs is nothing, lessons All that fears is our kind Waiting. Shallow. Whispers, Gaining, Hornets nests and looming , gifted Shadow watchers Our time Farrows, Listen, Glistening as sparrows, Gifted– Kill God, There remains a far price There remains a far cry A call to wolves A false time The fabric is losts on Ghosts and Carry trains, Wishes and Tilted, Whisperers Before our Galaxy of Hard times and Wishes, Wishes, Wilting, Flowers, Waiting, Waiting And Waiting And Waiting And wanting but watching The water Gallons Fly up The wanted Waiting The gallows Have haunted us Far cries, Far cry Fear twins, have shattered To notice us Chatterbox Listens and Life turns and Waiting and Galaxies Gallantly Waiting The gallows Have haunted us Waiting And Waiting And Waiting and Water. We're watching you. An ACHINGLY TALL red-headed fellow finds himself in a FIGHT TO THE DEATH, being cast over eons and decades, and cascaded in and our of portals throughout the ever-infinite dimensional portals of unknown realms as his grasp on life itself and reality begins to fade as he crosses in and out of parallels, one galaxy to the next and one lifetime to another, gripping death and darkness in one hand and light and living in the other. In this bloody brawl, scrawling across an expanse of unknown and unknowable times and realms, this mystic remains still yet as infinite and omniscient in himself as the Gods he looks to for mercy, as the journey has been known to become of these very same deities in its context and process. A folding timeline of blood and sacrifice melds itself into the rope of the materiel worlds; not one fabric of time but many twisted and woven fibers into one rope from which he climbs into the ranks of the upperworld–or heaven, then also slipping seemingly sometimes into the depths of the underworld, a Hell known to all man as this, existence not as one but many consumed in the shadow processes of wickedness and torture, war amongst one another, and the well known humanities of pride, faith, justice and wealth. …this is supposed to be Conan? Uhh… “Achingly tall red-head?” yeah I guess. –O'Brien? [beat] He seems capable. Don't pity me, For not I weep of our pride on doorsteps not allowed, But for the grace and hope of fortune in another world i've known But lest forgotten; Do not feign me for my ignorance in desire, For I am not of man, or woman, or grain, or stone But of the world itself and all ire. (Don't doubt me.) To be cruel not those who pass judgement That weighs in this way or that is utmost critical, In this the end of times and now the end of my desires, And yet the way that I have known, And the offer I have rung Is not here, but elsewhere. And yea, I walk alone. Amen. What the fuck does this have to do with show hosts. Almost always Irish Catholic Almost Always clothed in robes Almost Always fathers, aren't I? Almost always old, of Rome. Almost always birds of feather Almost always sticks and stones Almost always on the airwaves Almost always silver, gold Slither, Slither, Here i wait And Slither slither, Here I came And whether she will slit her wrists Is neither here Nor either there It's a comfort that I offer you to slaughter; That you'd rather not to love but instead murder– I'd be better off to love, then kill you after, Course, tarantula, or just as well, a spider. It's a comfort that I offer you to kill me; Lay my head upon a sanded wooden platter– That you'd rather me to say I'd kill than love you– So I rather just to love, then murder after. Woah. Good to God, God ought to know. I close my palms together full of laughter, So. Good to God, God ought to know, I sacrified my life for ever after. So far. Good to God, God ought to know, That all he wants, I want My heart is surely shattered. Now what. Good as God, God ought to know, That all I want becomes; The looking glass, The wishing well, The cross to bare The shepherd to the pasture. Amen. Omen. All men. Want none. But one. But– So. [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS W E L C O M E -Ū. Copyright The Festival Project, Inc. ™ & The Complex Collective © 2015-2025 All Rights Reserved B A C K Tales of A Superstar DJ

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

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

THE TREE PEOPLE greet QUESTLOVE warmly into their abode with open arms. He is in awe of the intricate beauty and allure of the hidden land amongst the trees. In essence, they have been expecting QUESTLOVE'S arrival for quite some time; though he quite innocently only had wandered up the tree, initially to have a break from the wild party below, he in an instant found himself at peace there, and soon his new friends, calling from the peaks of the interwoven world Oh, lol ‘The Roots' –I get it Shh. Not yet. We're almost there. Lil bitz So I go to tranfer trains out of Manhattan headed toward Brooklyn and I head to the airport be of the platform, cause that's where my car is And there's this crazy guy like freaking out Like “Aghhhhhhhhhhh!” And everyone is standing away from him, like, at a safe distance, and I'm lik, suicidal like “Meh, we are the same.” He's freaking out, he even gets real close “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!”” I'm like “Fuck it.” So he's freaking out— and that's not the funny part— “ That's actually very serious— serious mental health problems New York City has— But the funny part is this dude is kind of realizing I'm the only one that isn't standing away from him, and so he gets closer, I'm like “whatever, my crazy is in the inside, it's okay” But the funny part is, the rain starts coming, so people start getting closer and up comes this lady, and without saying anything, she sees this dude is kind of close to me and like checks up on me, just naturally— This is why I love New York, this was a sunny display of human kindness, without saying anything— She kind of just comes up with her umbrella in both hands like a fucking baseball bat and she's like “You good? I got an umbrella!” And just kind of smacks it against her hand like a police baton, she's looking down this dude like “Batter up, bitch!” I'm like “Thanks homie, damn! But I'm good, like… I'm about to jump in front of this oncoming train— that shit's crazy. This guy's okay, though, he's really not..: You know. “I got an umbrella!” Daaaamn homie! Okay! The immortal Citezens bigade The temple of sound Corpus Unam It started out st TiTs, but it ended up at TAINT. STEFON Isn't it wonderful? no! This place is gross! I want to go home now. JOHNNY DEPP finally wakes up from that nap. He looks confused. Which club was it?! It wasn't a club! I told you a spade! But I have four aces I have four aces Vegas will all make sense now Every tattoo is a closure You lose your composure when you come close so, Write me a letter I hope you feel better, with medicine I hope every note I ever spoke or wrote about you Pulls your hair grey Or out Until it's all gone I'm sure I'm a problem I'm no Monroe, O'Fallon Suddenly it's back again Like a flash, I reacted to the paralyzing waves of danger I sense on every strange aspect of this Garage lined industrial turned residential Dumpster to a nightmare And I'm sure I'm there I saw you blew it And evacuated; All day my brainwaves are Will Forte Leslie Jones And Dratch In no particular order, Last night was a whole show I had Eddie Murphy over For Richard Pryor We all won Oscars, Is that not the most remarkable thing That ever happened on this block? Show people I got no morals, no decorum No noteworthy Toolbox No trustworthy robots Not a dollar to my net worth I own networks, all of them Merge them all into a media conglomerate I grow doll hair out of my pretty eyeballs I don't go where the sun don't shine So the sun don't shine at Rockerfeller Plaza. AHAHA charade you all are And I'm just Monday Hot gossip Just fall out, blossom Just got hot dollops on a lot of chocolate Armed library coture And if you're not sure if or not I've lost it I sure have, You won But I'm all for one What'd you call it Rotten mouth show Rotten acoundrels, candy apples I tipped four hogs over Your lost faux of conciousness on All of the waffles The Oscar's was the award Cause God Sure Loves Conan Fuck you hospital hoe. I know I failed SNL Before I even got started Hidden Silent Cosmic Circles But still Sometimes I can't help But love them all[Liz] JOHNNY DEPP … is this the Boom Boom Room? No, Johnny. It is not. I asked for The Boom Boom Room! I saw Beyonce on the ride home But I don't wonder why were wonderful I just roll on. Something like troll under a bridge cause That's where it is when you wriggle it into your middle finger just to dismantle the antics the candle the hammer the mattress the fell on the family the Fallon the manhole the Gasp! See I told you it's a trap. So why not impale your life on the rim of the holy grail, Holy hell I skipped supper seven days just to acquire A cigarette lighter I see Tina Fey in everything When it makes sense And sense when did I get this obsessive about Nonsense I was just Never that fucking interested in? Sitting in the kitchen without pants on Hair half braided hating my apartment Like I forgot I was lucky to have one But what fun is it in a dungeon When in any direction you escape You take the L! I failed at l finger economics One Two Three Four I Declare A Thumb War! And the world keeps going Like over and ovver, But those two dumb dumbs Are still thumb warrig, and so the story goes On and on Like I never fell off the roof, Like I never turned my tv off Like I never wanted Timmy Turner Like i'm not about to run a life up my arm Like I'm lying about the psychotic Like I can't be anywhere but here? My circle is bigger And my friends, are fans And my fans, You're a fan of Hire a lawyer To fight a white girl Who slams doors In the Trump World No thanks. I'd rather be buried alive Then at least it's quiet. Just be glad you're alive! Why?! If I'm not thriving And trust me as I sit writing The uglies are warring me out of the world I belong in. This one is suffering and dollar bills And whores And dollar bills And whores And dollar bills And whores But you'll never know the answer Without words And son, I just don't want to have them No, I never want to talk about it Unless you're the Oprah And why would Oprah even want To open the apostle up, When I just told the decoy Every other problem I've ever had. Wonder what? My words are words, And long after the world turns over I'll be remembered as someone everyone loves For writing about how no one ever really loved her. So I cry until my stomach hurts, And I catch the door before it slams, And I never kick the cat, so the cat comes back But Fans And fans And fans. I never kick the cat, So the cat comes back And fans And fans And fans I never kick the cat So the cat comes back And I can't hit her So she acts like that So she acts like that So she acts like that And fans And fans And fans {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.

THE TREE PEOPLE greet QUESTLOVE warmly into their abode with open arms. He is in awe of the intricate beauty and allure of the hidden land amongst the trees. In essence, they have been expecting QUESTLOVE'S arrival for quite some time; though he quite innocently only had wandered up the tree, initially to have a break from the wild party below, he in an instant found himself at peace there, and soon his new friends, calling from the peaks of the interwoven world Oh, lol ‘The Roots' –I get it Shh. Not yet. We're almost there. Lil bitz So I go to tranfer trains out of Manhattan headed toward Brooklyn and I head to the airport be of the platform, cause that's where my car is And there's this crazy guy like freaking out Like “Aghhhhhhhhhhh!” And everyone is standing away from him, like, at a safe distance, and I'm lik, suicidal like “Meh, we are the same.” He's freaking out, he even gets real close “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!”” I'm like “Fuck it.” So he's freaking out— and that's not the funny part— “ That's actually very serious— serious mental health problems New York City has— But the funny part is this dude is kind of realizing I'm the only one that isn't standing away from him, and so he gets closer, I'm like “whatever, my crazy is in the inside, it's okay” But the funny part is, the rain starts coming, so people start getting closer and up comes this lady, and without saying anything, she sees this dude is kind of close to me and like checks up on me, just naturally— This is why I love New York, this was a sunny display of human kindness, without saying anything— She kind of just comes up with her umbrella in both hands like a fucking baseball bat and she's like “You good? I got an umbrella!” And just kind of smacks it against her hand like a police baton, she's looking down this dude like “Batter up, bitch!” I'm like “Thanks homie, damn! But I'm good, like… I'm about to jump in front of this oncoming train— that shit's crazy. This guy's okay, though, he's really not..: You know. “I got an umbrella!” Daaaamn homie! Okay! The immortal Citezens bigade The temple of sound Corpus Unam It started out st TiTs, but it ended up at TAINT. STEFON Isn't it wonderful? no! This place is gross! I want to go home now. JOHNNY DEPP finally wakes up from that nap. He looks confused. Which club was it?! It wasn't a club! I told you a spade! But I have four aces I have four aces Vegas will all make sense now Every tattoo is a closure You lose your composure when you come close so, Write me a letter I hope you feel better, with medicine I hope every note I ever spoke or wrote about you Pulls your hair grey Or out Until it's all gone I'm sure I'm a problem I'm no Monroe, O'Fallon Suddenly it's back again Like a flash, I reacted to the paralyzing waves of danger I sense on every strange aspect of this Garage lined industrial turned residential Dumpster to a nightmare And I'm sure I'm there I saw you blew it And evacuated; All day my brainwaves are Will Forte Leslie Jones And Dratch In no particular order, Last night was a whole show I had Eddie Murphy over For Richard Pryor We all won Oscars, Is that not the most remarkable thing That ever happened on this block? Show people I got no morals, no decorum No noteworthy Toolbox No trustworthy robots Not a dollar to my net worth I own networks, all of them Merge them all into a media conglomerate I grow doll hair out of my pretty eyeballs I don't go where the sun don't shine So the sun don't shine at Rockerfeller Plaza. AHAHA charade you all are And I'm just Monday Hot gossip Just fall out, blossom Just got hot dollops on a lot of chocolate Armed library coture And if you're not sure if or not I've lost it I sure have, You won But I'm all for one What'd you call it Rotten mouth show Rotten acoundrels, candy apples I tipped four hogs over Your lost faux of conciousness on All of the waffles The Oscar's was the award Cause God Sure Loves Conan Fuck you hospital hoe. I know I failed SNL Before I even got started Hidden Silent Cosmic Circles But still Sometimes I can't help But love them all[Liz] JOHNNY DEPP … is this the Boom Boom Room? No, Johnny. It is not. I asked for The Boom Boom Room! I saw Beyonce on the ride home But I don't wonder why were wonderful I just roll on. Something like troll under a bridge cause That's where it is when you wriggle it into your middle finger just to dismantle the antics the candle the hammer the mattress the fell on the family the Fallon the manhole the Gasp! See I told you it's a trap. So why not impale your life on the rim of the holy grail, Holy hell I skipped supper seven days just to acquire A cigarette lighter I see Tina Fey in everything When it makes sense And sense when did I get this obsessive about Nonsense I was just Never that fucking interested in? Sitting in the kitchen without pants on Hair half braided hating my apartment Like I forgot I was lucky to have one But what fun is it in a dungeon When in any direction you escape You take the L! I failed at l finger economics One Two Three Four I Declare A Thumb War! And the world keeps going Like over and ovver, But those two dumb dumbs Are still thumb warrig, and so the story goes On and on Like I never fell off the roof, Like I never turned my tv off Like I never wanted Timmy Turner Like i'm not about to run a life up my arm Like I'm lying about the psychotic Like I can't be anywhere but here? My circle is bigger And my friends, are fans And my fans, You're a fan of Hire a lawyer To fight a white girl Who slams doors In the Trump World No thanks. I'd rather be buried alive Then at least it's quiet. Just be glad you're alive! Why?! If I'm not thriving And trust me as I sit writing The uglies are warring me out of the world I belong in. This one is suffering and dollar bills And whores And dollar bills And whores And dollar bills And whores But you'll never know the answer Without words And son, I just don't want to have them No, I never want to talk about it Unless you're the Oprah And why would Oprah even want To open the apostle up, When I just told the decoy Every other problem I've ever had. Wonder what? My words are words, And long after the world turns over I'll be remembered as someone everyone loves For writing about how no one ever really loved her. So I cry until my stomach hurts, And I catch the door before it slams, And I never kick the cat, so the cat comes back But Fans And fans And fans. I never kick the cat, So the cat comes back And fans And fans And fans I never kick the cat So the cat comes back And I can't hit her So she acts like that So she acts like that So she acts like that And fans And fans And fans {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.

TROUBLEMAKER enters through the foyer. Troublemaker— I never though I'd see you again. — you won't. Yo what do I owe the displeasure? Fascinatingly inept. Ahem, excuse me— to what do I owe the nauseating discomfort? Better, but still no dice. What are you going here, exiler? “Exiler” well now, here we are making up words after a rusty start. What do you want? Where are they? Who do you mean? Birdsong and Hawkeye? I'm supposed to know? You do know. Do I now? Now— tomorrow— always and forever. Don't play mind games. But oh, a game it was to have given you the mark of the call in the first place. The what? I made my time with you and you alone; and you as well as I remember this; I know what you know, and I am where you are at all and any given times. So then, you can find them all on your own. Clever but not! Without seeing both eyes, I have none at all. What are you seeking? The hidden truths. Well then; you're going to have to kill me. Then I will. MONARCH THE SUFFERER enters through the galley in extreme panic. STOP, STOP! WAIT AT IT. MEANWHILE Okay, Conan, what gives? Nothing! Should this mean something at all? This is innapropriate, So you are—completely lucid. Of course I am; I'm an astral traveler, aren't I? I don't know what you are? For now, as it appears, just a thought. Well, if I give you my eyes, will you sprout arms or something? The mystic waits and ponders; this seems to be an enlightening thought; filled with amusement, she replies. Why, yes, Conan. Give me your eyes. Are you serious? What a remarkable thought. Actually! Wait a moment. Please be in jeans and a t shirt not a sweater or a jacket or a suit When I please you want you to be my teacher In this essence, you are light and I'm the truth Feed me See me for my demons As I need your for your weakness Only on the weekdays, and never on the weekends We hiatus summers— Smart, huh DJs on the long nights, Your festival seasons Turtlenecks at Christmas, No hannukah for Christians, I'm waving at the Krishnas in the station And I'm brace to even right this; As I brace myself for impact, Saving Grace is in its place I guess the last days have to happen As the last act take its placement —Ace of Spades. Somebody kill me I need to get pass go Collect $200 dollars And never ever roll again To roll the dice To troll the doll —someone's lost in the mall, alright, I bet. I thought it was a poker game I even hoped, But no, Just lunch and cake. Amen. A dog in the host suit On octopus arms How alarming. How are you? I'm no good, No good, No good, America No good, No goon, But too false for truth, America No words, No news— Who ties the noose, America? No time for booze, America Just cut me loose, America. Patrick! Patrick! What about the offer? There was no offer! I lied, to you! But why would you do that? To get the most out of you. Well— you certainly did do that. You certainly did do well. Certified freak; Shh, I can't leak the secrets. I could be speaking in codes, Or keep cleaning my creases with bleach If you mean what you mean, Death. I sure do think, You are in for The ride of your life The ride of your life I sure do wish, That I just didn't have eyes m Just didn't have eyes Just didn't have— Here's a thought: who'd you wash in the laundry? Were you hoping that I'd wander? Mayday — lost focus That is just not your business! Keep it simple Keep it tie dye Keep it strange And keep it rowdy Keep it pushing Keep it pouty Keep it off the walk And show now panty lines No petty theft No truth remarks No sighs No heavy dining Bleeding Eating Breathing Thinking Where were for you when I marked you though and then? This is no Romeo and Juliet! Did you forget your lunch? Oh you forgot, You know I'm just old fashioned. That was passionate For a paraground in parameters of iambic Drenched in suffocating silent Lock box I have the option I have the option I have the option But I'd rather not! Ha ha Charade you are Ha ha hav Show me what you got Ha ha. Ha ha A hallmark card marked Penny in a fountain. That's the address, Well, send it back then! Which fountain? Which penny? Which wish, Which which And which Christmas. I don't get it I took a half wit plastered bastard and had him hammered into a masterpiece; Now I'm the madman. Now what's the matter? Now what's the difference in a fan and a friend Or a cat in a hat or Peanut butter jelly and a baseball bat Is it just as indifferently anyway just another day In fact, It's opposite independence Interestingly in this circumstance I am imprisoned Listening to indefinitely And whether or not I'd never admit it This Is In me. Never friend, However, In the final act, Holding hands as the curtains lift, And the audience stance, The simple tremble of a pulse Which resembles the flicker of definite grip Rather publicly, In fact, Center percentium How's that for a show of affection? The drop of a hat, Or as light as a feather Who goes there Or yonder. “I ponder on that,” “Very often” Said Cheshire Cat. Don't forget how long it's been since Alice had originally fallen, And that all along we've all been in and under, up and down in Wonderland. (and also, it's the phantom of the opera) Come crashing down now the silvered chandelier of crystal and of course the precious iridescent diamonds. How remarkable the art but perched and parched above it he shadow lives in sawdust And showtunes And auras And hauntings And mayday And mating calls And over all The body calls to rotting soul To find a plug to pull A bull to taunt Another fan that wants you. What the fuck would love fall upon of not the shoulders of the golden one. You're doomed. I don't know what that means. {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.

Shh! God is speaking! He is speaking when we least expect it. He is speaking when we feel all hope is gone. He is speaking when things are going well! The truth about it, He is always speaking to us because He wants the best for us! But are we truly listening? Seek God like never before! The time is now to develop a closer walk with Him. Not just during your valley moments but also during your mountaintop experiences! We can't keep doing it our way and expecting God to bless it! We have to allow Him to lead and guide us all the way if we want to be victorious! He is waiting... will you allow him to dwell within your heart so that He can usher you into a life of abundance!

Have you been feeling disconnected from yourself - like you're going through the motions but not really here? Like somewhere along the way, you lost touch with your own presence? In this episode of Somatic Healing Meditations, you'll be guided through a calming somatic meditation to help you reconnect with yourself from the inside out. Through breath, gentle touch, and Havening Techniques®, you'll be invited back into your body with care and curiosity. You'll also be guided through soothing “iffirmations” to support your compassionate return to yourself. If you're longing to feel more grounded, more like yourself, and more at peace in your body, this meditation is for you. Take a breath. Let go of the doing. Come home to you.

What if your anxiety isn't a problem to fix… but a message to listen to?

Shh!Follow us on twitter for goodness sake, it's fun! And it's probably the best way to contact us, all things considered.Special Thanks as always to Sydney and Benjamin Paul and Tyler Button, and our Big Freak Spacejamfan!This episode features additional sound design by Michaël Ghelfi. Michaël creates brilliantly crafted soundscapes and ambient tracks for all sort of productions and they make perfect accompaniment to your ttrpg home games. Find his work on YouTube, and support that good stuff on Patreon.Subscribe and Rate Rude Tales of Magic on Apple Podcasts and Spotify and leave us a review!Advertise on Rude Tales of Magic via Gumball.fm.Support the show: https://www.rudetalesofmagic.com/See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Today's story is about a rotten apple - but not only a rotten apple but about gossip as well.                               ________________________________________________ Did you hear about Anya?” Ruth looked up from her reading book to see her friend Eliza next to her.  “What did you say?” Ruth asked.  “Shh! Keep your voice down!” Eliza whispered. “I asked if you'd heard about what Anya did.” “No? What happened?” Ruth asked.  “She cheated on the Bible quiz we had before lunch!” Eliza hissed. Ruth was shocked. She didn't know Anya very well, but she knew Anya was one of the smartest girls in their class, and she was especially good at knowing a lot of things from the Bible. Why would she need to cheat?  “Are you sure?” Ruth asked slowly.  “I'm positive!” Eliza said. “William saw her, and he told Kalia, and she told Max, and he told Amy, and she told me.”  Ruth frowned. That seemed like a very long way of hearing something.  “I just can't imagine Anya doing something like this,” she said.  Just then, their friend Ella dropped into the seat next to Ruth.  “Can't imagine what?” she asked.  “Anya cheated on the Bible quiz!” Eliza whispered to her.  “No way!” Ella exclaimed.  “Shhh!” Ruth hushed both of them. “We don't know that for sure, and I don't want Anya to hear you talking about her.”  What happens next? Tune in to find out. _________________________________________________________________________________ Story by: Maritza Brunt Read story on the blog VISIT OUR WEBSITE SHOP OUR BOOKS   Shop our audiobooks Special effect editing: James Wagner  music credit: http://www.purple-planet.com/  Email us: stories4gigi@gmail.com Write to us: GIGI KIDS STORIES PO BOX 6505 Upper Mt Gravatt Queensland Australia 4122

We've crossed the pond and made our way to the intersection of France, Germany and Switzerland to bring you all the latest straight from the Eurovision Song Contest, and oh boy is there plenty bring you from Semi-Final 1. There were huge glow-ups, a glow-down, potential new front-runners - everything you could hope for from the "easy" Semi-Final. Jeremy takes a nibble of a dangerous dessert, Dimitry awards a perfect performance to one of the acts, and Oscar rejoins his digital brethren once more.Watch Semi-Final 1 on Peacock, YouTube, or your local public broadcaster!Check out our guide to this year's songs on PopHeist: https://popheist.com/eurovision-2025-song-list-guide-meaningThis week's companion playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4nWZKymmUZ475daKUMt7Z3?si=e1f88d970b66409d The Eurovangelists are Jeremy Bent, Oscar Montoya and Dimitry Pompée.The theme was arranged and recorded by Cody McCorry and Faye Fadem, and the logo was designed by Tom Deja.Production support for this show was provided by the Maximum Fun network.The show is edited by Jeremy Bent with audio mixing help was courtesy of Shane O'Connell.Find Eurovangelists on social media as @eurovangelists on Instagram and @eurovangelists.com on Bluesky, or send us an email at eurovangelists@gmail.com. Head to https://maxfunstore.com/collections/eurovangelists for Eurovangelists merch. Also follow the Eurovangelists account on Spotify and check out our playlists of Eurovision hits, competitors in upcoming national finals, and companion playlists to every single episode, including this one!

Δεν κατάφερε να προκριθεί στον τελικό της Eurovision o Ευάγγελος Θεοδώρου με το τραγούδι "Shh".

 “What are you planning?” He stretched his neck, trying to decipher from where he sat what she was writing. She did not reply.  He did not ask again; instead, he rubbed his beard, deep in thought. Jezebel folded the scroll, placed his seal over it, and rang the gong. Elana watched in fascination as a soldier entered from the side door and bowed. Jezebel stretched her arm with the scroll. “Take this to the elders and nobles who live in Naboth's city, and tell them I command they do as this says.” The man took the scroll, bowed, and left the room. Jezebel rubbed her hands together. A satisfied look registered on her face, her amber eyes slanted and malicious. Ahab reached for her hand and pulled her with force onto his lap. “What did you write?” She placed her hand around his neck and leaned her embellished head onto his. “I have proclaimed a day of fasting and have requested they seat Naboth in a prominent place amongst the people so—” “Prominent?”  She placed her index finger on his lips. “Shh. Once he is seated, two vagabonds will accuse him in front of everyone that he has cursed both God and the king.” An ominous smile crept over her red lips. “The town will be horrified to know Naboth has turned against you, and they will stone him to death—when that happens, you are to take possession of your vineyard!” Ahab stared at his wife with his mouth agape. He blinked a few times......                                 ____________________________________________________ This week we are looking at the story of evil queen Jezebel and King Ahab. You can find their story in your Bibles in 1st and 2nd Kings. Tune in to listen to this episode - and don't forget to share with your friends.                                      ___________________________________   Read story on the blog Visit our website Shop our books - The Royal Palace Artist of the Month: We The Kingdom Artist on Spotify music Keep in the loop by signing to our GIGI Notes HERE DON'T FORGET TO SUBSCRIBE  Hosts: Esther & Steph Mix & effects: Stephanie Giselle Purple Planet Music https://www.purple-planet.com/ email us: writegigi5@gmail.com Write by post GIGI Teen Radio PO BOX 6505 Upper Mt Gravatt QLD 4122 music credit: Purple planet music All music played on the podcast radio is covered under the APRA AMCOS Online Mini Licence.

Wouter Hardy (Arcade)- 3:36, NYLAN (The Code, Shhhh) - 23:46, Benji Alasu (The Code, Survivor) - 41:43       This week, we're talking to the songwriters behind two Eurovision winning hits. First we sit down with Wouter Hardy, who co-wrote Duncan Laurence's Arcade - the first Eurovision song in nearly a quarter century to chart on the Billboard Hot 100. Then we turn to two writers, NYLAN and Benji Alasu who, along with Linda Dale and Nemo themselves, wrote last year's Eurovision winner, Nemo's The Code. These writers give us a window into their unique processes and help us further explore the diversity of ways in which Eurovision songs get written - and how that diversity in process affects the song you end up with in the end.       Featured Songs:     Duncan Laurence, Arcade - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eztx7Wr8PtE     Duncan Laurence, Stars - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l1Zv_xZiaok       Gjons Tears, Tout L'Univers - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpM6o6UiBIw       Nemo, The Code - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kiGDvM14Kwg       Theo Evans, Shh - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rbfQqWyqgJw       Elsie Bay, 100 Years - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-UbFfO_Uy80       Parg, Survivor - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RfH5o3XtI2c       Milune, Torn - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uwBN-17HXGE       Remo Forrer, Not Okay - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cXZM-DH5Zb4

Shh... this episode is a secret to Nathan, no one tell him!

Happy Good Friday! Shh, we have a serious guest, everyone behave please in the comment section. Today we welcome Jacob Mchangama. Jacob is the author of the breezy beach read “Free Speech – A History from Socrates to Social Media”, research professor at Vanderbilt University where he is also the founder and Executive Director of The Future of Free Speech institute, and a Senior Fellow at The Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression theFIREorg.JOIN THE CONVERSATION ON SUBSTACK! ASKAJEW.SUBSTACK.COMHere's what we cover:* Anne Frank is from Denmark, right?* Free Speech in the ancient world* When is speech actual violence?* The optimistics and pessimistic case for free speech* Back when the ACLU was cool* Immigration and speech* Can't we just make antisemitism illegal* The vibe shift* Mahmoud Khlalil* The future of free speechHere's your feel-good story for the week: An IDF reservist found this sweet pup in Gaza, who apparently ran over when he heard the soldiers speaking Hebrew. The soldier quickly discovered that this is no other than Billy, a dog that was kidnapped from Kibbutz Nir Oz on October 7. He belonged to Rachel Dancyg, the ex-wife of hostage Alex Dancyg who was murdered in Gaza. Rachel's brother, Itzik Elgarat, was also abducted from the kibbutz and murdered in Gaza. Some sweetness in the midst of it all. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit askajew.substack.com/subscribe

All of this year's official music videos are out, so the Eurovangelists have enlisted pop culture aficionado Dave Holmes (Troubled Waters, Who Killed The Video Star, MTV) to weigh in on which videos from this year's crop of entrants are Top 10, and which videos are not gonna see much air time. We also talk about who might take it all in this year that feels more wide open than in years past. Jeremy lives for a jam session in the fairy court, Dimitry's on the warpath over Stefan Raab, Dave loves living that rock star yacht life, and Oscar's got that star quality.Dave's favorite music videos: https://youtu.be/oJL-lCzEXgI?si=WBjdXTTLLxBDKw-Rhttps://youtu.be/nTizYn3-QN0?si=M9DWaZ7Ax6QRjIWUJeremy's favorite music video: https://youtu.be/eBG7P-K-r1Y?si=pjdLdc6vUBFsKY2RDimitry's favorite music videos: https://youtu.be/sOnqjkJTMaA?si=Fl2KrStCwAoC1kMbhttps://youtu.be/pTFE8cirkdQ?si=FWsZWvK9fQip14SXOscar's favorite music video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1zWlnzFXcKYA playlist of this year's official music videos: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sfvb761EEcM&list=PLd2EbKTi9fyXVpc47XRGyjV0RfQOlHOXtThis week's companion playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4mkeIWF4CiFfYcYEb2PMGS The Eurovangelists are Jeremy Bent, Oscar Montoya and Dimitry Pompée.The theme was arranged and recorded by Cody McCorry and Faye Fadem, and the logo was designed by Tom Deja.Production support for this show was provided by the Maximum Fun network.The show is edited by Jeremy Bent with audio mixing help was courtesy of Shane O'Connell.Find Eurovangelists on social media as @eurovangelists on Instagram and @eurovangelists.com on Bluesky, or send us an email at eurovangelists@gmail.com. Head to https://maxfunstore.com/collections/eurovangelists for Eurovangelists merch. Also follow the Eurovangelists account on Spotify and check out our playlists of Eurovision hits, competitors in upcoming national finals, and companion playlists to every single episode, including this one!

Culture critic Euny Hong joins us to discuss the multiple genres represented by Croatia, Sweden, San Marino, Portugal, and Cyprus at this year's Eurovision. Euny Hong Euny Hong is a journalist and bestselling author of three books that have been published in a total of over 20 languages. The Birth of Korean Cool: How One Nation is Conquering the World Through Pop Culture, an Amazon Editor's Pick, is being re-released in April 2025. A Yale grad and former Fulbright Scholar, Frankfurter, and Berliner, she lived in Paris longer than any other city. She is a native-level bilingual in French-English and fluent in German and Korean. Genre Confusion Summary The Birth of Korean Cool (3:59) Croatia - Marko Bošnjak - "Poison Cake" (7:05) Sweden - KAJ - "Bara Bada Bastu" (15:07) San Marino - Gabry Ponte - "Tutta L'Italia" (24:57) Portgual - NAPA - "Deslocado" (32:25) Cyprus - Theo Evan - "Shh" (38:22) Final Thoughts (44:09) Subscribe The EuroWhat? Podcast is available wherever you get your podcasts. Find your podcast app to subscribe here (https://www.eurowhat.com/subscribe). Comments, questions, and episode topic suggestions are always welcome. You can shoot us an email (mailto:eurowhatpodcast@gmail.com) or reach out on Bluesky @eurowhat.bsky.social (https://bsky.app/profile/eurowhat.bsky.social). Basel 2025 Keep up with Eurovision selection season on our Basel 2025 page (https://www.eurowhat.com/2025-basel)! We have a calendar with links to livestreams, details about entries as their selected, plus our Spotify playlists with every song we can find that is trying to get the Eurovision stage. Join the EuroWhat AV Club! If you would like to help financially support the show, we are hosting the EuroWhat AV Club over on Patreon! We have a slew of bonus episodes with deep dives on Eurovision-adjacent topics. Special Guest: Euny Hong.

Just Rambo this week. - New Song- Latest patch notes- Cloud vs Cam accounts- EE has an appstore advert being promoted by apple.- SHH loses Citadel in ER, SUS dropped on them.- PHPC joins SHH, - Kobra and SpacePope should be corpies- NE qq account has RMT sales - Mobi Mountain- Things I may have missed/comments

It's the MaxFunDrive, so we had to bring back our fellow MaxFun host and first ever guest (and first ever returning guest), Dr. Ella Hubber of Let's Learn Everything! We take a listen to EIGHT internal selections from all over the continent, and once more get authentic British despair at the state of this year's entry. Jeremy wishes he was in the booth, Dimitry catches Cyprus in a lie, Ella's heard the milkshake might not just be a state of mind, and Oscar thinks we might be in the year of the breakdown. MaxFunDrive ends on March 28, 2025! Support our show now and get access to bonus content by becoming a member at maximumfun.org/join.---The Eurovangelists are Jeremy Bent, Oscar Montoya and Dimitry Pompée.The theme was arranged and recorded by Cody McCorry and Faye Fadem, and the logo was designed by Tom Deja.Production support for this show was provided by the Maximum Fun network.The show is edited by Jeremy Bent with audio mixing help was courtesy of Shane O'Connell.Find Eurovangelists on social media as @eurovangelists on Instagram and @eurovangelistspod.bsky.social on Bluesky, or send us an email at eurovangelists@gmail.com. Head to https://maxfunstore.com/collections/eurovangelists for Eurovangelists merch. Also follow the Eurovangelists account on Spotify and check out our playlists of Eurovision hits, competitors in upcoming national finals, and companion playlists to every single episode, including this one!

In this episode of No Film School, GG Hawkins sits down with Jérôme Eltabet, the editor of the Oscar-nominated body horror film The Substance. Jérôme shares his journey from assistant director to editor, detailing his work with director Coralie Fargeat to bring The Substance to life. He breaks down the editing challenges, the importance of sound design, and why cutting a horror film is all about creating an immersive experience. In this episode, No Film School's GG Hawkins and Jérôme Eltabet discuss: How Jérôme transitioned from assistant director to editor What it was like editing 300+ hours of footage for The Substance How sound design and score shaped the film's tension The massive changes from the first cut to the final version How the film's themes influenced its pacing and cutting style The collaborative dynamic between Jérôme and director Coralie Fargeat Memorable Quotes: “I do remember I gave a call to Coralie to say, ‘Oh, this movie is going to be very long.' And she told me, ‘Shh, don't tell anyone! We'll talk about this later in the edit room.'” (8:38) “We had maybe 150 different versions of some sequences because Coralie needs to have the kind of goosebumps to like it. It's not something you can explain—she just has to feel it.” (10:29) “Coralie didn't want any realistic sounds. Everything had to be slightly off. The world needed to feel unnatural, unsettling—like something was always wrong.” (13:14) “The first rough cut was three and a half hours. Coralie wanted a perfect edit, a perfect sound design, so we fought to get the movie as tight as possible without losing its impact.” (32:10) “As an editor, you are the first audience. You have to trust your instincts, because six months later, after watching the same footage over and over, you'll start doubting yourself.” (37:47) Guest: Jérôme Eltabet – Editor of The Substance, known for his precise, immersive approach to editing horror and psychological thrillers. Resources: The Substance – Ending Explained The Substance – Lookbook Read & Download The Substance Screenplay Find No Film School everywhere: On the Web: No Film School Facebook: No Film School on Facebook Twitter: No Film School on Twitter YouTube: No Film School on YouTube Instagram: No Film School on Instagram

The News Literacy Project's Peter Adams returns to answer some big questions: Who can you trust these days? Where are the reliable sources? Well, WE'RE not, because we claimed we were following the interview with the Poundstone Riddle Invitational, but it's actually a surprise party for Captain Crinkle! Shh!  GUEST Peter Adams newslit.org HOUSE BAND Andrew Shah SPONSORS Go to HelixSleep.com/paula for 27% Off Sitewide! Go to prettylitter.com/paula to save twenty percent on your FIRST order and get a free cat toy. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

“Shh, don't scream.”--On the night of July 23rd 2013, Tiffany calmly calls the police asking for help after she injured her own neck in an attempt to take her life, while her ex-husband Kris simply watches her. When the detectives arrive on the scene, it's clear to them that she didn't do this herself. Her ex Kris says the opposite, and calls her a liar. As they dig more into the case, time is running out as Kris carries out his own plan to “finish the job”.