Podcast appearances and mentions of Smith machine

Mike hit a Lamborghini, and that's not the most unusual part of the story. Also, questions about the Goblet Squat and the Smith Machine get touched on. Do me a favor and like/subscribe so that I can be happy. If you're interested in more detailed assistance, my patreon is here for you patreon.com/user?u=2666345 The best program on earth is the Apex Program. Grab it here. https://marketplace.trainheroic.com/workout-plan/program/catherwood-program-1729105989

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Links ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Get HGC Tix⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Knurled News⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠HGC Newsletter⁠⁠ Episode Outline (0:36) Cool Stuff (4:04) HomeGymCon Update (5:47) Bells of Steel Smtih Machine (8:58) Gungnir Open Trap Bar (10:22) STEPR XL (12:16) Open Trap Bar Choices (16:03) Best Product Releases of the Year (20:56) Cable Attachment Discussion --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/garage-gym-experiment/support

TheECmethod.co.uk Summary In this conversation, Emma and Chloe discuss various topics including their weekends, the Euro 2020 final, tennis, deload weeks in the gym, soy milk as a milk alternative, and the challenges of dating. They also address questions about alternative exercises for Smith Machine split squats, calculating maintenance calories, and staying motivated to hit step goals. AI take homes: Takeaways It's important to have a routine that allows you to hit your step goals most days, but don't stress if you don't hit them every day. If you can't hit your step goal, focus on hitting your calorie target and try to incorporate physical activity in other ways, such as short walks or home workouts. Don't worry too much about the exact number of calories burned or consumed. Focus on averages over time and making sustainable lifestyle changes. Soy milk is generally safe to consume and may even have health benefits. The negative claims about soy and its link to breast cancer and thyroid problems are often exaggerated. When it comes to dating, it's important to consider your location, lifestyle, and the type of people you surround yourself with. It may be necessary to broaden your geographical pool to find a compatible partner. Maintenance calories can vary depending on factors such as activity level, weight, and individual metabolism. It's important to track accurately and adjust as needed. Don't let a missed step goal or deviation from your routine spiral into guilt or overeating. Focus on self-care and making practical adjustments for the next day. Remember that hitting step goals and maintaining a healthy lifestyle is a choice, not a punishment. Be kind to yourself and focus on long-term progress.

Lose weight for good by heading to www.fitfemaleproject.com or heading to @fitfemaleproject The conversation covers various topics related to staying motivated, balancing macros, going out for dinner, cardio exercises, getting back on track, and hitting step goals. Chelsea & Maz provide tips and advice on these topics, emphasising the importance of planning, communication, and self-awareness. They also address common challenges and offer strategies to overcome them.

Michael Meola is a NASM-Certified Corrective Exercise Specialist helping people achieve the best versions of themselves! IG: m_meola WEBSITE:  https://www.trainwithkickoff.com/coaches/MichaelMeola?ref=cr_ig&fbclid=PAAaYBcgdDmHBdSQwYrRFXYnenMxiuYkRFpgiG_5ctNLKFfF1AAwsSaGLZFyo_aem_AR6kilDtJZkksx2fbw8NFhim3lm21KlGSBQunXf1sHqls-kc4ZiBI0AhQ7r99DYNtPs#coach TIME STAMPS: 01:00 Quick recap of Mike's recent LION DIET and how he feels about his upcoming powerlifting meet “THE IRON ASYLUM” in 23 days! 01:21 Colt's AC SEPARATION & personally-written PT program overview to train around this injury. 02:20 Coach Mike's bio! E224 - From 308 lbs to a Lean, Mean, Ribeye-Eating Machine, with Michael Meola E235 - Coach Mike's Lion Diet Results, Keto Powerlifting, & Tips for Beginners 04:13 “PAUSE SETS” in powerlifting; how to use this technique to improve form on your core lifts. 11:11 ASCENDING REPS on the SMITH MACHINE for VERTICAL LEG PRESSES - try this leg day burnout if your man/woman enough!!! 14:30 Mike's experience REINTRODUCING CARBS after having been on ZERO FIBER and low carb through his bulk and beginning of his cut! 15:02 Why KETO POWERLIFTING and KETO BODYBUILDING are both in their infancy particularly among NATURAL athletes. 17:02 OVERVIEW & BREAKDOWN of Coach Mike's MACROS and MEAL PLAN. 20:20 BODYBUILDING REFEEDS and POWERLIFTING REFEEDS for KETO ATHLETES. 23:04 PEAK WEEK POWERLIFTING. 31:45 Tips on making your grocery hauls as cheap as possible!!! 35:02 Also called “cross training” or “opposite limb training” / THE OBJECTIVE: When you train one side of the body, the other side is also stimulated; stimulates MPS on the OPPOSITE LIMB being trained; thought it was BRO SCIENCE but it's actually backed by some eye opening literature!!! PMID28630570 “Contralateral Effects After Unilateral Strength Training: A Meta-Analysis Comparing Training Loads” 38:32 Colt's CONTRALATERAL TRAINING WORKOUTS to rehabilitate his shoulder! 49:16 Ways Mike has been teaching his clients to build sustainable habits around their meal plans, treating them like a MARATHON and not a SPRINT. 49:49 Listener question on CHEAT DAYS - Bojan Zivkovic @ bz.welding.ab - from Sweden! 54:02 Your “WHY” is your FOUNDATION to sticking to your meal plan!!! 57:07 “There is no talent here. This is hard work. This is an OBSESSION.” -Conor McGregor  Do you like RIBEYES? Search Carnivore Coaches Corner (the #1 bodybuilding podcast in England) on any platform for our NUTRITION PODCAST co-hosted with Coach Mark Ennis! SUPERSET Coaching membership inquiries: https://calendly.com/ssyl/meet-greet

Join The Clubhouse HERE https://bit.ly/erfclubhouse Download Free Weekly Workout Program HERE https://bit.ly/weeklyworkoutserf Work With Our Team 1:1 HERE https://ericrobertsfitness.com/contact/ FREE Calorie Calculator HERE https://bit.ly/erfcalorie-calculator 20% Off Legion Athletic Supplements Code “ERIC” HERE https://bit.ly/3lrMpp7 In this episode of the Eric Roberts Fitness Podcast, I go over a few questions from my instagram story! I talk about using the smith machine, what's the most important thing for fat loss, weight watchers, and more. If you enjoyed the episode, please leave a 5 star rating and review. Thank you! -E

Topics covered in today's client Q&A; Can I move back to fat loss after maintenance? When will I fall in love with lifting weights? Is travel & nights out impacting my weight loss? Why do I crave fatty comfort foods? Barbell vs Smith Machine. What's better? Heart rate zones Hip Thrust Machine vs Barbell. What's better? Body split training  How can I look more toned? If you want more information about Fit Female Project or want to join our next round please visit our website https://www.fitfemaleproject.com/ or check out our Instagram https://www.instagram.com/fitfemaleproject/

Time now to grab our dumbbells and load up the load up the Smith Machine as David Hogg chats to personal trainer Jack Cannon about his fitness journey and why raising awareness for albinism is so important.

Dersimiz Fitness'ın bu bölümünde fitness ve vücut geliştirmedeki en önemli ve etkili hareketlerden biri bütün detaylarıyla ele alındı. Squat'ı bu kadar etkili ve önemli yapan unsurlar neler? Bu hareketten maksimum verimi alabilmek için dikkat etmen gereken teknik detaylar, farklı squat çeşitleri, en iyi ısınma hareketleri, ileri seviye antrenman metotları ve çok daha fazlası bu bölümde..  (01:27) Tek kişilik dev kadro (04:51) Squat sadece bacakları mı çalıştırıyor? (06:18) Squat'ın kas gelişimine ve yağ yakımına katkısı neden bu kadar büyük? (07:52) Squat, sahip olduğumuz ve kaybetmememiz gereken temel hareket paternleri arasında (09:43) Günlük hayatımızda yarattığı domino etkiler (11:13) Bütün sporcuların ve sedanter insanların antrenman programında yer alan ve alması gereken bir hareket (16:41) Belin ağrıyorsa bu hareketten uzak mı durman gerekiyor? (18:07) Smith Machine'de Squat yapmak caiz mi? (20:02) Daha büyük kollar için Squat (21:03) Squat yaparak yağ yak (25:49) Squat, günlük adım sayını arttıracak   (26:33) Alt vücut ve üst vücut kas orantısı (29:32) Kol-Bacak kaslarının gövde kaslarından farkı ne? (31:38) Genel güç kapasiteni arttırmanda büyük rol oynuyor (33:14) Squat'ın tekniğiyle alakalı bilmen gereken bazı detaylar. Squat tehlikeli mi? (38:42) Ayak kaslarının önemi (42:21) Core kasların için uygulayabileceğin bir diğer hareket (43:22) Off Set Training (45:34) Mobilite ve Stabilite oranı  (47:45) Squat'ta yardım ve güvenlik (50:07) Squat'ta uygulayabileceğin ileri seviye teknikler 41.Bölüm YouTube: https://youtu.be/qMAi334GnrI  Squat Nasıl Yapılır?: https://youtu.be/JFqwynDbuco  Sosyal Medya: https://linktr.ee/dersimizfitness  Email: bilgi@dersimizfitness.com Hepinize güzel yorumlarınız için teşekkürler!  --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/dersimiz-fitness/message

After the ancient alien mystic chak Chel merges with supacree, she leads her on a wild adventure though space and time as the worlds newest superhero, helping supacree to master her powers and abilities, and helping her to escape the clutches of the evil and largely unknown evils of the multiverse— Meeting worlds and Banding together witb characters from infinite multidimensional worlds and realms… THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE LEGENDS GERALD'S WORLD OWSLA CONFIDENTIAL: THE INFINITE SKRILLIFILES ENTER THE MULTIVERSE DEATHWISH ASCENSION THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNÏ BLŪ SCARY MONSTERS & SUPACREE THE INSOMNIAC &MORE FROM [The Festival Project.™] SEASON 6 ACT III Part I MONTAGE: Clique, Cruel Summer Kanye West, JAY-Z & Big Sean EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES. BROAD ASS DAYLIGHT SUPACREE has unlocked 100% Of her ABILITIES GOD MODE UNLOCKED SUPACREE EXITS EQUINOX FITNESS CLUB AT LIGHTSPEED, Hitting the pavement with swift force, splitting into three dimensional selves; SUNNI BLŪ to her left and A MYSTERIOUS, unknown ALTER EGO to her right, she shifts quickly to the beat of the music, morphing into and out of parallels of the outer world, opening and closing portals, and encapsulating anything and everything within her force field—which happens to be the whole of GREATER LOS ANGELES. Damn. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Of a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something's off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful? The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world What have we done? This is bad, brother. That's a construct. Everything's a construct! Get ahold of yourself. Get ahold of—you know what? I do know. You think you're fuckin' clever. I am clever. You're a sick man. That's my business. Yeah, well—you made it my business. I am you. What a concept. *construct. God, help you! [sideways evil smirk] Hehe. SPAM! ON TACOS! BUTTERS Oh—Jesus! WHO PUTS SPAM ON TACOS?! A smart man. C'mon, Butters. We gotta get lost in the sauce before we try this out. I'MMA TRY IT OUT. OK. GOD, OH, GOD, PLEASE— MERCIFUL GOD IN HEAVEN— (WhT.) JUST— DON'T LET IT BE SKRILL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Fuxk. What. She took the train. Which fucking train. I don't know. The train. THE A TRAIN, or the B TRAIN?! HEY. WHAT, you motherfucking idiot? I THINK I LOVE YOU. Well, stop thinking. Ok. JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER has been kidnapped— He's like 50 years old. He's been dad-napped. —by the MOB. The MOB?! He's into some dark shit. Wait, he is?! In this series. He has been tied to a chair, which sits under a single spotlight in a shabby, dark room in NEW JERSEY. Ew, New Jersey. JIMMY THE MOBSTER Hi, Jimmy— JIMMY FALLON —uh—hello. JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON Oh, that's ironic. [beat] JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm gonna kill you, Jimmy. GOD If I give you a serious role, how are you gonna handle it? JIMMY FALLON like a pro. GOD don't lie to me, Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON What?! I'm not! My body, heart, mind, and soul was being attacked— I had 15 minutes to vacate the property and couldn't even focus—I had to use the bathroom so badly it hurt my soul. I was pacing back and forth, choking back ugly tears—the rude man in the room across the way still occupying the bathroom which I needed, both to clean and relieve myself—but it had been hell, after all, and needs like these had been proven to be in short supply. Fuck. This is a gun to your head. Just do it. [he moves the pistol into her mouth] Now it's in your mouth. [she unhinges her jaw to open it wider, never breaking eye contact and relaxes; he studies his hand on the grip of the tripper, ready to lill] You'll die today. [A comfort; as she relaxes, he as well changes—this seems to take the fun of killing away from him, he exacts the gun from her mouth] CONT'D You like that? I love it— You're dead, bitch! Yes, I am! A penniless whore. Whores get paid— Then, even less— What's less than this? A dead bitch. Think again. I don't think, I just shoot; Sounds like a man. Oh, I am. Then kill me with your hands. Jesus Christ, man. He can't help. No one can help you. So just shoot. [he can't] SUNNI. )&2&;@2@2$ YOU ARE OUT OF CONTROL. SUCK MY DICK. AGHHJJJ. Well. TMZ is here. This is a disaster. NEXT, WE LEARN: THE Oh my God. WhT. This is probably the worst thing I've ever written. Not the worst. Nope: it is the worst. Maybe it's just bad on paper. It's bad no matter how you — CONTROL, JANET PRIVACY. Here. Wtf is this. LEGENDS: FAME SCHOOL Christopher Walken was one of my professors in fame school For acting? For music. For music? That doesn't make any sense. Please, don't make me explain this. A FACE BATTLE CHRISTOPHER WALKEN vs. SUPACREE -_- —__^ *_- ^__ __/ *_* >< … —-__—- Ok. Alright. Show me what you got. SUPACREE plays a beat. You know where this is going. We all know where this is going. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN that was OK. “OK”?! Yeah. *shrugs* OK. You know what— You know what it needs? …what's it need? —-more cowbell. I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. It was perfect. It was OK. You're not OK. —maybe I'm not. You're definitely not. —know what helps? Don't tell me: More fucking cowbell. Lol. ⅔ ain't bad. Wait, two out or three?! Which one didn't I— —FUCK. What, what happened? They're onto me. THE BAMPHERAMPS, MOTHERFUCKING BAMPHERAMPHS, and THE ASCENDED MASTERY has assembled in NEW YORK CITY to stage a coup. It's a coup d'état. There sure is a lot of French shit over here. Well yeah, it's Paris. Wait. What, what now? If SUPACREE is in Paris. NIGGAZ. Right—then— Who the fuck are they chasing in New York. [just waking up] Why am I in New York? WHOOPI GOLDBERG you got anyplace else to be? …no. MEANWHILE, IN ROME. Fanculo! Really, dude. Apparently. A tear in my head; A rip in my soul, And the fabric of— Coming undone at the whole; I make sense of it all at the alter, The fall; To have fought in the war, And then lost, or to suffer at all Love was lost, I was never a martyr— Blood on the cross, And the crossroads, The frost and the stardust, “There's no God” For the honorable, Stuck in New York, But defrosting my toes, At the forefront I haven't once wondered or thought Of the love that I was, Since I stopped throwing rocks at the church Or got off on the wrong stop; What a puzzle, To jump off, Or rot in the heart of The hub— World of wonders, A mother of suns, Never wanted a daughter so much Unpunishment, Loved was the Duchess; To carry a crutch or a cross— So unbothered, untouched, So heartless and dark, For the marksman—a spark Or the dog does not bark At the horses You're in the clear, hero. Heartless, she was! Now, now—settle down. This is an absolute outrage. Is it, now? I say so! Maybe you shouldn't. Faro, a word, I've got three. I'll go first. [a smug look] What's happened here? A ressurection, sir. Care to explain? I said ‘three.' Where's the King? My palms grew numb as my throbbing heartache welled up into the back of my throat and sat perched up against my growling stomach, stuffed with beans and rice, perhaps to fill the sadness or satiate my need for protein, either one. ASCENSION If you're going to vomit, step away from me. —I'm not sick. Actually, step out of my house. This is your house? —I live here. —no one lives here. What did you think it was? an elaborate cave. It is—an elaborwte cave— —excuse my ignorance. You're excused entirely. —I appreciate that. I meant, from here. You should go. Faro, wait. No more waiting; you were uninvited. Trust me—this visitation is more necessary than voluntary. That's—a lot of words. I don't speak caveman. Just—get out. Listen: No more listening— It's about C'esme't. It always is. This is important. It always is. It concerns you. It always does. —? Wait. [a heavy sigh] [a long silence] Come with me. FARO leads GÍAN towards the back of his quarters. Close the door. I— what? Nevermind. You're useless. Ehrm—excuse me. Excused, your majesty. FARO opens a SECRET PASSAGEWAY into a FUTURISTIC CORIDOR, leading GÍAN into a vast FORTRESS. balls. Uh. My stomach in knots And my life is in ruins Constellations all gone, And my heart, on the border of hurt— And mistrust So unlovable, loveless— Promises, scars and the art was devoured Ah— she was awful; Ah—she must have lost her mind God, she was homeless, And loveless, And wild eyed All that I wanted, Was to get lost in the lobby, Before the whole ball dropped —and watch the false phropet Collide wirh the comet Stop: I lost God at the crosswalk, The punishment was Homeless Now watch this: This is what I wanted: Doesn't really matter now, Does it? Oh, doesn't it. God, this is Lucifer. Son, it's an honor. No God for a mother, who walks on her own. Now it's over or under. It's over. It never got started. I locked up my heart with the piñata. How irrelevant. How awkward. How curse words turn to mantras. How I have half a heart Or, like ⅓ We're being honest, now. I thought Illuminati wanted hotties and Caucasians. Well, I guess that'll explain, Why you've been stuck inside a cage, then. NICK CAGE is an extremely skilled time traveler. Ok. WHOOPI GOLDBERG has freed herself from the cage in which SUPACREE had skillfully trapped the OWL OF THE GOLDEN EYE. WhT a prophecy. MEANWHILE, AT HOGWARTS. HOGWARTS, 2023. ANANDAR is HEADMASTER. Ah, fuck. I'm gonna puke. All I wanted was to shamelessly watch the man's balls swing like a pendulum... Well, here's this instead. Oh no, it's Skrillex. Now you have to— —now I have to watch this. Why. Cause I've already seen that. I hate you. I hate you. SOLD, to the lady in red. Damn. Slavery is cool. Yeah, I guess. FUCK. What. Idk. BITCH. GET OUT THE BASEMENT; I'm in the attick What you think this is? Lights, camera, action: Now that attractions been well established I should get back to it, I'm in the attic Lighting up matches, Fixin my holes up with patches Callin it classic Call me an asshole, I can't be mad man, I am a mad man, I bring the mask back To Handle a trash can Get out the basement. I told you he could dance. A GIANT DRAGON Oh shit, here it comes. FIRE. DILLON FRANCIS I Well. We're gonna die. DILLON FRANCIS II If she throws up, I get a pickle. DILLON FRANCIS III That's a deal. DILLON FRANCIS II And if she cries, I get a French poodle named Angelina Jolie. DILLON FRANCIS III Righteous. DILLON FRANCIS II Yur damn right. A GIANT DRAGON FLIES OVERHEAD, SWEEPING THE SKIES WITH FIRE AND LIGHTNING. DILLON FRANCIS I (CONT'D) Yeah, we're definitely fucked. Why are you dressed like Froto. FROTO (in background, dressed exactly alike) That is offensive! SHUTTHEFUCKUP. It's the end of the world! (At least as we know it) IS THAT SKRILLEX? FIRE BREATHING DRAGON. Well, it was. What the fuck HAPPENED?! Is that its final form? Yes it is. I'll give you one million dollars. That's not enough. This card is priceless. What is this. Like a Pokémon game?! This whoops Pokémon's ass. This is LEGENDS. LIL' BIIIITZ Yo! New York is CRAZY First of all, how is it all of a sudden CLEANER THAN LA?! New York's like: here —we sent all the nasty people to LA. All better. Polarity shift! LA is gross now! New York cleaned up! The trains are nice —shit— All the trash is in BAGS. I was like “Whaaaaaaat” this is nice. What the fuck. This shit different! Unh. they exported all the nasty, crazy motherfuxkers to LA. On GOD. Cause every other psychologically twisted individual I talk to in LA is like: “I'M FROM NEW YORK” *hawks loogie, spits* Uhhhhh… I was going on a little European adventure; New York's like: “You know, you never stay long…” I'm like “There's a reason for that…welp, gotta go.” The whole universe fucked around and was like— “You know what? We like you here. Stay. “ What. “STAY.” Fuck. New York is different. Won't say I love it — But goddamn, I like it! People are rude. People are rude as fuck. I'm used to LA where people are fake nice For fuckin tips and shit, you know? Everybody's trying to get famous for something, Or something. Idk. Fake as fuck. Fake nice. Fake happy. Fake titties. Fake lips. Just fucking fake. fake everything. Everything is plastic. —and it's not tied up in garbage bags, either. It's just plastic, and trash, and piss everywhere. It's so gross. You see Venice Beach on the movies: It's all clean and beautiful, and picturesque. You get there, it's like Skid Row + Skid Row Coastal. LA has millions of homeless people everywhere. In cars, in tents. Under bridges. Everywhere. And I love LA! I really do. But it's fake. Everything is fake. New York is real as fuck. Yeaaah. Almost too real. But I like it. You don't have to fuckin fake shit. People don't say “excuse me—“ No. You're never forced to say “good morning “ before you had your coffee! Yuh! New York is doing it right. People sleep on the train— But nobody lives on that motherfucker! I was in New York like a week before the shock wore off that there were not hundreds of individuals on every train wreaking of piss and smoking crack openly—YES—illicit drug use on trains in LA is extremely casual. Everything in LA is casual. People wear pajamas to work. Yeah—that. Everyone in New York looks like they're going to eat at a five-star restaurant. Like all the time. No socks-with-slides. EW. I swore to God socks with slides was a sign of the apocalypse; I get to New York, none of that—but the cringy thing in New York is Crocs With Socs. Now mmmm we're bi-coastal. Socks-with-slides; Crocs-with-socks. Knock that shit off. TACKY. other than that, though… NY is cool. It's chic. It's fun. You gotta be careful though. You gotta watch out. I thought LA drivers were crazy. New York drivers are fucking psychotic. Pedestrians don't have the right of way. At all. If you're in a crosswalk in LA even if the light is red, people will stop and let you go. In New York you better wait for the fuckin walk sign. They will kill you. It's okay. 6 millions ways to die: choose one! Just kidding. That's some west coast shit. But I did see a whole ass mural of Snoop Dogg in Brooklyn and get slightly confused— Till I realized everything on it was the color blue, and I was deadass in the middle of Brooklyn going “What? Ohhhhh! Wait! The Crips!” “Those guys are everywhere!” Lol. Its a nation wide disorganization. Lol. Whatever. I like New York. Doing my best not to love it, So the universe doesn't balance me out by showing me what to hate about it So far, so good New York drivers don't play. I never seen a school bus drift before! DAMN. Almost got hit by a short bus. Oh, the irony. I saw a dude do a whole ass wheelie on an electric scooter. Not a moped, by the way. An electric scooter. Yup. New Yoooooork. BEDFORD AVENUE, BROOKLYN, NY. THE BAMPHERAMPHS have initiated SEQUENCE C I like New York. I gotta say. It IS like LA In the way that I know I can't live in New York if I'm not just filthy fucking rich. Cause, you know—there's still homelessness; But unlike in LA, where you just wander around, smelling like piss, begging for change— You freeze to death. A quick solution! Haha! (It's not funny.) but whatever. America. I thought I was leaving; I got trapped in the matrix. I was like “Fuck this place.” They're like: “stay! We need slaves!” I'm like FUCK. So I got stuck in New York. Ugh. At least it's a “free state” I made it north, ma! Not exactly the safest place to get stuck with no money, either, is it? Really nowhere is safe with no money. I mean, I know of some places south of the border you can live, basically free and just, you know—sleep in a hammock, sing for change and shit. Roam the beach. I know people that do that— it's just- I like showers. I don't love showers. Cause then, I'm sure God would find a way to take that away, too. I don't love anything anymore. Once you love something—it either goes away, or it burns you. Or both. Can't love things. Can't love people. No more love. Just—appreciate—things. Just—like—things, you know? Don't love anything. Speaking of suicidal tendencies. Hahah. You know what else is cool about New York? The trains actually come into the station fast enough to kill you. Like—you've had enough? Okay: here it is. Just to save you a trip to the Empire State Building. This train is coming in at 304 miles an hour and is somehow gonna stop in 3 seconds. —maybe 2 seconds, if you do jump— Better think fast! They almost come too fast, for suicide. Ready, set— Dammit. Missed it again. They're so fast. The trains in LA stopped going suicide-fast like, a couple years ago—maybe, just before the pandemic—I think. They're like “You know what! This is happening too often. I am ALWAYS late to my other two jobs ‘cause someone killed themselves on my train! Fuck!” LA's like: “Well fuck this, all the slaves are killing themselves on the trains.” “Damn, that sucks” LA's like “Yeah, okay so: here's what we do; we'll put up signs for a suicide hotline at the popular jumping points” “LA's like: okay” “And—we'll tell the train operators they gotta slow down coming into the station—“ “That'll do it!” “—that way, If they still do decide to jump, they'll just get paralyzed, and contribute to the opioid crisis: more funding for big pharma!” “Yes, it's genius!” “—unless they're black, or on Medicaid, then: we'll send em home with some ibuprofen and make sure they collect disability, so that they can become addicted to crack, or something like that —you know.” “Yes. That's perfect.” Good Job LA. I get lost in New York. I'll be on New York like “YO, WHERE THE FUCK AM I AT?” “In New York” GODDAMMIT. You know what else is weird about New York? Personal space is not a thing. I mean, “space” is not a thing at all, anyway. But “Personal space”? No. People will not only sit by you; The'll siT ON you. Yo. I had just got to New York— I had all my luggage with me— And this lady gets on the train; She's got a broom. Idk what for, but okay; She gets onto the train, She looks around, and I guess she decides she wants the seat next to me. So like I said, I have all my stuff l so I'm a little spread out, but there's room— But you know what she does? She looks me straight in the eye And then just hits me with her broom. I was like —-?!? I'm thinking, “Okay is she racist or is that just a New York thing?” Like, “you can just hit people with shit!? damn!” What's funny is, I kinda respected her for that. She was old. Didn't say a word, just “bam” Like—- ‘move!' I'm like “okay!” New York is so classy. Girls wear panty hose, and stockings. I'm like “wow, that's actually nice. That's so wholesome! Tights?! Yeah!” It's so classy. I don't think girls in LA even wear regular panties. Let alone panty hose. Get it—panty—Hoes. I see correlation. You know what else is cool about New York. It's less racist. I mean- There's so much diversity, there's almost no room to be racist. It's crazy. So many people. So many colors. So much culture. So many languages! I hear languages I can't even place. I thought I was good. I'm in LA, I'm like, “Okay, that's Chinese—“ “That's Japanese” “That's Korean” “Farsi” I get to New York— I'm in the Delicstessen. Thats another thing. Nothing like a real, New York delicatessen. That's what “deli” is short for, by the way, everyone not from New York. It's “delicatessen” Lol. Anyway. I'm standing in the Deli and I hear some shit that—I'm not gonna lie— was actually quite alarming, as a native English speaker. I'm standing there, and this guy behind me literally over my shoulder says, “Blooppnsmabhoan ammaoakb amansbaiL aannaoka snkaoakmnlblblblnlnl!!!!” I'm like what the FUCK. This isn't REAL. “Blblblana. Akakma alak Akakamaamna!” I'm shoooook. What IS that!!? I like New York. The girls aren't all evil soulless heart eating demons. They're just “regular” I have to run back to LA and tell all my guy friends, they're like “Women are evil” I'm like— “Nooo, that's just out here.” Maybe. I don't know. I like New York. I bet it's wonderful when it's warm. I don't know! Maybe that's when shit hits the fan! Maybe it's like Chicago. EVERYBODY DIES IN THE SUMMER— Who said that. Chance the Rapper, I think. I don't know. LEGENDS: FAMESCHOOL This move is called: The “Slap-Dicksuck.” [carefully taking notes] “slap-dick-suck”…okay… hmm.. Now, class. [raises hand curiously] Yes? Um. SUPACREE— —PROFESSOR SUPACREE. Um. Professor SUPACREE— Yes! Why is it called the “Slap-Dicksuck” I was about to explain that. //SLAP-DICKSUCK// NEXT: we learn THE “SLAP-DICKSUCK-SLAP” Let me guess. No, no guessing. This class is gross. I like it. Yeah, you're gross. The world is gross. Get over it. GET OVER IT, DILLON FRANCIS. *sniffes* Please, stop crying. She— *sniffles* It's okay, Dillon. She took my piñata! Your piñata set your house on fire. He sets—everything on fire— Have you ever stopped to think— —no— thinking is bad. Go get dressed. No, not today. You look like a bloated chicken nugget. —I used to like chicken nuggets. hey, Tofu daddy. This is sick. This is a sick bitch we're dealing with. I'm not dealing with anything, I quit. Quit, you can't quit. I just did. DEADMAU5 Okay, no more bodies. Ū Okay. No more bodies. DEADMAU5 Really? Ū —No. DEADMAU5 Goddammit, this is not a GAME. Ū It is a game, though—and I'm a damn good marksman. DEADMAU5 Dammit, you're right. Ū I'm always right. Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? I powered on my phone to find the digital clock exactly at 1:15, which had seemed to be creeping up again as a recurring theme, along with some other unsettling figurines—if it was a race against time, I was losing—and If, perhaps, a Holy War, I must have been some sort of Holy, as it had seemed the world's good graces had turned her back on me, and that faith dwindled more quickly in the cold than any other condition. Lay your head on my shoulder, Your cheek on my cheek, Wrap your arm round my waist, You can think what I think You can skate on thin ice You can sing what I sing And when the ice breaks; You can sink when I sink Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? It had been strange waves of everything—more than I was ready for and much more than intentionally took on, all things considered. I burned my tongue on piping hot oatmeal, trying to eat rather than write, as it seemed the time had come that I could no longer skip meals and properly function. Nearing thirty like a bullet—and at least metaphorically bleeding as if I had actually been shot, my heart and soul throbbing and gushing into a paralyzing twist or fears and woes, trapped in a foreign city with almost nothing to my name, lugging around my music equipment and very few belongings, which—when put away neatly even in the smallest room— seemed like almost nothing, but was certainly too much to carry around, especially alone. And I was, so very alone. Drake Bell and the Hollywood Spell My newest and strangest muse yet had again insisted on appearing into my dream world, for the third time, anyway—which seemed a cruel and almost disturbing subconscious attempt to conjur up what might have been the entirety of my energy to complete the 6th Season of Enter The Multiverse, at this point which had even interested me, reinvigorating my senses and at least partially restoring my faith in something, even if it was just Hollywood being Hollywood. But now, even miles away from Hollywoodland, and stranded far, far away with no conceivable way to find my way back, even if I did have a home there waiting for me—and there wasn't—there didn't seem to be a home anywhere for me at all, and with my money running well towards dry I had spent most the week dry heaving into panic attacks about where I would go, or what I would do/—especially dragging around all of my luggage and equipment, and while it was true my equipment could have easily found it's way into a pawn shop, to at least offset the impending homelessness by maybe a couple days, and a couple hundred dollars—it didn't seem quite worth it to sell my dream again, especially for the miserable existence of sharing a hostel room with whoever decided to snore or cough their way into my hellish realm of corporate slavery, lovelessness, and lack of privacy. Yes, my conciousness had summoned up this man into my dreamworld now three times, and for whatever reason, if there was one — I could consider it a charm. Had I not been working at the smokeshop what now seemed like ages ago, I might have forgotten entirely that such a person had ever existed—which I had, since the experience, for the record, at least tried to—but for some reason, disasterously couldnt; it had all awakened something serious and spiritual within my outer world, piquing my ultra conscious into a rare and bewildering curiosity that had done well to slay and murder the cat in all of its nine lives, and then some. It wasn't entirely on purpose, or without guilt that my mind seemed to inquisitively structure an entire hidden world and to form a strange and illicit bond with this fragile man creature, not that my social status or overwhelmingly average, unattractive, stranded and abandoned wastebasket of a demon, or diety whatever I was in whatever kind of light, would have much at all to do but suffer the result of having missed the bar by far, stumbling into the lower realms of the world by mere circumstance, on occasion, without notice. I was certainly thinking about it too much, and hating myself for it, a certain spark or inspiration for the Timmy Turner timelines met with the sudden flash of what may have even been a lost memory of not for all this Hollywood trauma, or dogma, whichever made sense—because none of it did, at all, besides to reverse what time had done by allowing me to forget my turbulent childhood, which couldn't matter anymore in this moment as it ever had; and though I was producing a fruitful workout at Equinox, squatting deeply into the Smith Machine and breathing deeply into my lower back, where the tension from the weight of my leftover skin met the pain in the whole of my torso, an apparent rush sent a splash of slobber out of the side of my mouth, my third eye a gaping and burning hole streaking heat across the middle of my forehead—all of a sudden the high of Nitrous Oxide filled my mind, if only for a moment—flung back into a memory nearly two decades old. “That's it.” I remembered thinking. “No more of this.” I sat down the can of keyboard cleaner on the bathroom floor. I had scared myself straight, long before I even knew what I was doing—and I didn't know at all, having been nine, or maybe 10–long before I would ever *want* to get high, not understanding that or why I needed to, anyway—or that getting “high” was what I was doing at all. No, at the time, it simply ‘felt really good', until it didn't—the particular memory which struck me in the dead center of the Equinox floor—and snapping back into my body, shaking myself out of it and leaning into the bar to stretch, taking in a deep breath and choking back an ocean of tears. “Idiot.” I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever Dreams Wil Be Dreams. Since departing LA, all my dreams had been strange, and I found myself growing more distant from myself, or from anything real at all, my dreams skewing into a horrid soundscape of rampant memories and false hopes of love. Finally able to seek refuge in meditation, I had been bombarded with images of Dillon Francis balancing some pretty little white girl in his lap—and though I couldn't quite unhinge the Amethyst from my possession, I had been giving it the distance I needed for something like peace of mind, without the actual peace itself at play. There had been quite the spell to break, and though it hadn't even been moderately broken—I at least knew now what magic I was dealing with. Dillon Hart Francis was a powerful magician—perhaps too powerful, and with that I took my strides into gatekeeping at the very least, since no peace could be made. I could love with a wholesome heart, but a tarnished mind and a gated soul would simply not outlast the infinite journey. Though I had been illicitly carfeful not to look him in the eye last we did meet, there was a remarkable force in place far beyond control—or at least my control— which kept such power from being apprehended; I had done my best to let go, knowing it was indeed a spell at play, and rather than a curse no need to worry or fear it's users intentions. Magic was a give-and-take, and so much had been at this point taken from me that the bruises of jealousy for whatever it was being waved about my psyche as ‘better than' could do no more than to rip the rest of my heart from its crevice as I pondered on what I might have done right, or might have done wrong—if there were such things. ‘White girls get all the love.' It was only true in my heart and my mind, and so it must have sat in my soul a certain way. I had never intended really to fall into what I had fallen into with Dillon Francis—not that it couldn't or wouldn't be undone, eventually, as I was inraveling myself into an unremarkable, unastonishing whisp — a fracture in time to do much less than even be though of, or forgotten. I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever A piece of my rock had shattered on the floor of the shower at Equinox—the only stone I kept for myself, and often forgotten about, as I did myself, not that i mattered much. It shattered unevenly into three pieces, one of which I left in the sauna, quickly before departing—and the other which I had dropped in Times Square, begrudgingly under the LCD American flag by which I felt betrayed: How could our nation not only allow, but create homelessness as a scare tactic to keep the working poor working as slaves, to saciate the wealthy's wants and needs? “Whatever.” I'm not going to hurt you, You can't hurt me anymore than I can hurt myself. I'm glad you know that. I don't know anything. Suicide fucking sucks. I know that. It might be time for me to go But I just want to let you know I still got love for you; And there's still hope; I left the door open I gotta go, you know, It's hopeless for some At the end of my rope —and it's a long way home, But it's home at the end It's home at the end of a long, lond road I took the wrong one, But at least now I know you I'll go on It seems that I still have a soul, somewhere I walked in on thin air, And now I'm here; I don't know where I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever LEGENDS EDDIE MURPHY opens the heavy Victorian style door, after three solid knocks from under the GLOVED HAND which lifts the golden-brass door knocker. To what do I owe the pleasure? WHOOPI GOLDBERG Business, not pleasure. -_- Well, which business. All of ‘em. [She gestures to pass through the doorway.] Please, come in. Coffee, or Tea? Coffee this late? [beat] Coffee. This is serious. You look serious. I've been—confined. Drake Bell, you son of a bitch. Oh, so you do know my name. I know all your names. So it is. So I am. — How'd you get in this? I've always been in this. What is “always”? How did you get in this? I am this. What a philosophy. Call it what you want. What if I don't. Then don't. See you on the other side. Someone once told me, the grass is much greener— on the other side. —and when I paid a visit, (It's possible I missed it) Seemed different, yet exactly the same. DILLON FRANCIS I didn't want it to end this way. I didn't want it to end. Well, it did. You let it. I had to. Just let go. No, I can't. Hah! What's so funny? You're fucking impossible. Nothing is “impossible” you said that. But you “can't” Let this go? Ah-hah. No. This here will keep slowly unwinding until there's no more. —and then what? There's no more. Damn. This is foul. Hm. Take a time out, Timmy. I'm a take a t-t-taxi I pay my t-t-taxes The actor and the actress. Oh, He's Big Hollywood; Doesn't Have a Job, But the work's real good – His lines are smooth and his days are long, Gotta make it right, For a whole lot of wrongs He's Big-Big Hollywood Doesn't have a job; But the work's real good Coming in hot, Like he's fresh out the box That's a real big nugget, With a whole lot of sauce. Stop. What. What is this. It's a song. This is awful. FUCK IT. I DON'T CARE. Damn, Oreos AND Ben & Jerry's?! IT'S DAIRY-FREE. Tf kind o f Oreos is that. They're GLuten FrEe. FUCK IT. Sunni, get a hold of yourself. YOU GET A HOLD OF YOUR SELF. Stop yelling from across the room. I'LL YELL WHERE I WANT. Fuck this job. FUCK YOU MARIANNE. AGGHH. AGGHHHHHHHHH. Fuck What. What's up. I need a smoke break. I'M GONNA RIP YOUR HEART OUT. YOU DOn'T HAVE A HEART. SHUT UP, DILLON FRANCIS. GOd. WHO INVITED HIM, ANYWAY. I didn't. NOBODY INVITED HIM. The inspiration to music hit at just the right and the wrong time—I had finally found my way to the butt machine, only after visiting every other floor and guessing incorrectly—only to make it to the machine in just enough time to realize that I was for some reason exhausted—perhaps having just blown my last fuse, realizing I was literally down to my last, few pennies— and, unknowing of how to escape the hole I had dug myself into, falling into a carful and unsecured ‘lust' with New York, surely never to fall in love with another city as I had LA, learning my lessons well, and knowing all too well that nowhere and no one like me was safe from homelessness in the US—now having proven itself to be a hostile entity, in a full police state. It didn't seem to matter, though, as I had narrowly missed my escape nearly on purpose, but not— it seemed something entirely outward was keeping me at bay and in the US, not that I had wanted to leave out of fear for my life as much as I wanted adventure and exploration—but either way was going nowhere at all fast, and running out or money even faster. “Fuck, I hate my life” I had probably over caffeinated, at least half the reason I couldn't budge to top speed, even blasting bangarang into my eardrums at nearly top volume—this day, it only emotionally weakened me, having demoted myself entirely from any sort of elite status, back into the realm of obsessive fandom, and perhaps even schizophrenia, per Dane Cook's shenanigans. Yeah, I'm tired and I need to take like ten shits. Just finish then. If I leave early I have to come back early. Well, go, then. Muscle fatigue, check Dehydration, check Psyche completely shattered Check. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

After the ancient alien mystic chak Chel merges with supacree, she leads her on a wild adventure though space and time as the worlds newest superhero, helping supacree to master her powers and abilities, and helping her to escape the clutches of the evil and largely unknown evils of the multiverse— Meeting worlds and Banding together witb characters from infinite multidimensional worlds and realms… THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE LEGENDS GERALD'S WORLD OWSLA CONFIDENTIAL: THE INFINITE SKRILLIFILES ENTER THE MULTIVERSE DEATHWISH ASCENSION THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNÏ BLŪ SCARY MONSTERS & SUPACREE THE INSOMNIAC &MORE FROM [The Festival Project.™] SEASON 6 ACT III Part I MONTAGE: Clique, Cruel Summer Kanye West, JAY-Z & Big Sean EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES. BROAD ASS DAYLIGHT SUPACREE has unlocked 100% Of her ABILITIES GOD MODE UNLOCKED SUPACREE EXITS EQUINOX FITNESS CLUB AT LIGHTSPEED, Hitting the pavement with swift force, splitting into three dimensional selves; SUNNI BLŪ to her left and A MYSTERIOUS, unknown ALTER EGO to her right, she shifts quickly to the beat of the music, morphing into and out of parallels of the outer world, opening and closing portals, and encapsulating anything and everything within her force field—which happens to be the whole of GREATER LOS ANGELES. Damn. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Of a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something's off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful? The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world What have we done? This is bad, brother. That's a construct. Everything's a construct! Get ahold of yourself. Get ahold of—you know what? I do know. You think you're fuckin' clever. I am clever. You're a sick man. That's my business. Yeah, well—you made it my business. I am you. What a concept. *construct. God, help you! [sideways evil smirk] Hehe. SPAM! ON TACOS! BUTTERS Oh—Jesus! WHO PUTS SPAM ON TACOS?! A smart man. C'mon, Butters. We gotta get lost in the sauce before we try this out. I'MMA TRY IT OUT. OK. GOD, OH, GOD, PLEASE— MERCIFUL GOD IN HEAVEN— (WhT.) JUST— DON'T LET IT BE SKRILL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Fuxk. What. She took the train. Which fucking train. I don't know. The train. THE A TRAIN, or the B TRAIN?! HEY. WHAT, you motherfucking idiot? I THINK I LOVE YOU. Well, stop thinking. Ok. JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER has been kidnapped— He's like 50 years old. He's been dad-napped. —by the MOB. The MOB?! He's into some dark shit. Wait, he is?! In this series. He has been tied to a chair, which sits under a single spotlight in a shabby, dark room in NEW JERSEY. Ew, New Jersey. JIMMY THE MOBSTER Hi, Jimmy— JIMMY FALLON —uh—hello. JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON Oh, that's ironic. [beat] JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm gonna kill you, Jimmy. GOD If I give you a serious role, how are you gonna handle it? JIMMY FALLON like a pro. GOD don't lie to me, Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON What?! I'm not! My body, heart, mind, and soul was being attacked— I had 15 minutes to vacate the property and couldn't even focus—I had to use the bathroom so badly it hurt my soul. I was pacing back and forth, choking back ugly tears—the rude man in the room across the way still occupying the bathroom which I needed, both to clean and relieve myself—but it had been hell, after all, and needs like these had been proven to be in short supply. Fuck. This is a gun to your head. Just do it. [he moves the pistol into her mouth] Now it's in your mouth. [she unhinges her jaw to open it wider, never breaking eye contact and relaxes; he studies his hand on the grip of the tripper, ready to lill] You'll die today. [A comfort; as she relaxes, he as well changes—this seems to take the fun of killing away from him, he exacts the gun from her mouth] CONT'D You like that? I love it— You're dead, bitch! Yes, I am! A penniless whore. Whores get paid— Then, even less— What's less than this? A dead bitch. Think again. I don't think, I just shoot; Sounds like a man. Oh, I am. Then kill me with your hands. Jesus Christ, man. He can't help. No one can help you. So just shoot. [he can't] SUNNI. )&2&;@2@2$ YOU ARE OUT OF CONTROL. SUCK MY DICK. AGHHJJJ. Well. TMZ is here. This is a disaster. NEXT, WE LEARN: THE Oh my God. WhT. This is probably the worst thing I've ever written. Not the worst. Nope: it is the worst. Maybe it's just bad on paper. It's bad no matter how you — CONTROL, JANET PRIVACY. Here. Wtf is this. LEGENDS: FAME SCHOOL Christopher Walken was one of my professors in fame school For acting? For music. For music? That doesn't make any sense. Please, don't make me explain this. A FACE BATTLE CHRISTOPHER WALKEN vs. SUPACREE -_- —__^ *_- ^__ __/ *_* >< … —-__—- Ok. Alright. Show me what you got. SUPACREE plays a beat. You know where this is going. We all know where this is going. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN that was OK. “OK”?! Yeah. *shrugs* OK. You know what— You know what it needs? …what's it need? —-more cowbell. I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. It was perfect. It was OK. You're not OK. —maybe I'm not. You're definitely not. —know what helps? Don't tell me: More fucking cowbell. Lol. ⅔ ain't bad. Wait, two out or three?! Which one didn't I— —FUCK. What, what happened? They're onto me. THE BAMPHERAMPS, MOTHERFUCKING BAMPHERAMPHS, and THE ASCENDED MASTERY has assembled in NEW YORK CITY to stage a coup. It's a coup d'état. There sure is a lot of French shit over here. Well yeah, it's Paris. Wait. What, what now? If SUPACREE is in Paris. NIGGAZ. Right—then— Who the fuck are they chasing in New York. [just waking up] Why am I in New York? WHOOPI GOLDBERG you got anyplace else to be? …no. MEANWHILE, IN ROME. Fanculo! Really, dude. Apparently. A tear in my head; A rip in my soul, And the fabric of— Coming undone at the whole; I make sense of it all at the alter, The fall; To have fought in the war, And then lost, or to suffer at all Love was lost, I was never a martyr— Blood on the cross, And the crossroads, The frost and the stardust, “There's no God” For the honorable, Stuck in New York, But defrosting my toes, At the forefront I haven't once wondered or thought Of the love that I was, Since I stopped throwing rocks at the church Or got off on the wrong stop; What a puzzle, To jump off, Or rot in the heart of The hub— World of wonders, A mother of suns, Never wanted a daughter so much Unpunishment, Loved was the Duchess; To carry a crutch or a cross— So unbothered, untouched, So heartless and dark, For the marksman—a spark Or the dog does not bark At the horses You're in the clear, hero. Heartless, she was! Now, now—settle down. This is an absolute outrage. Is it, now? I say so! Maybe you shouldn't. Faro, a word, I've got three. I'll go first. [a smug look] What's happened here? A ressurection, sir. Care to explain? I said ‘three.' Where's the King? My palms grew numb as my throbbing heartache welled up into the back of my throat and sat perched up against my growling stomach, stuffed with beans and rice, perhaps to fill the sadness or satiate my need for protein, either one. ASCENSION If you're going to vomit, step away from me. —I'm not sick. Actually, step out of my house. This is your house? —I live here. —no one lives here. What did you think it was? an elaborate cave. It is—an elaborwte cave— —excuse my ignorance. You're excused entirely. —I appreciate that. I meant, from here. You should go. Faro, wait. No more waiting; you were uninvited. Trust me—this visitation is more necessary than voluntary. That's—a lot of words. I don't speak caveman. Just—get out. Listen: No more listening— It's about C'esme't. It always is. This is important. It always is. It concerns you. It always does. —? Wait. [a heavy sigh] [a long silence] Come with me. FARO leads GÍAN towards the back of his quarters. Close the door. I— what? Nevermind. You're useless. Ehrm—excuse me. Excused, your majesty. FARO opens a SECRET PASSAGEWAY into a FUTURISTIC CORIDOR, leading GÍAN into a vast FORTRESS. balls. Uh. My stomach in knots And my life is in ruins Constellations all gone, And my heart, on the border of hurt— And mistrust So unlovable, loveless— Promises, scars and the art was devoured Ah— she was awful; Ah—she must have lost her mind God, she was homeless, And loveless, And wild eyed All that I wanted, Was to get lost in the lobby, Before the whole ball dropped —and watch the false phropet Collide wirh the comet Stop: I lost God at the crosswalk, The punishment was Homeless Now watch this: This is what I wanted: Doesn't really matter now, Does it? Oh, doesn't it. God, this is Lucifer. Son, it's an honor. No God for a mother, who walks on her own. Now it's over or under. It's over. It never got started. I locked up my heart with the piñata. How irrelevant. How awkward. How curse words turn to mantras. How I have half a heart Or, like ⅓ We're being honest, now. I thought Illuminati wanted hotties and Caucasians. Well, I guess that'll explain, Why you've been stuck inside a cage, then. NICK CAGE is an extremely skilled time traveler. Ok. WHOOPI GOLDBERG has freed herself from the cage in which SUPACREE had skillfully trapped the OWL OF THE GOLDEN EYE. WhT a prophecy. MEANWHILE, AT HOGWARTS. HOGWARTS, 2023. ANANDAR is HEADMASTER. Ah, fuck. I'm gonna puke. All I wanted was to shamelessly watch the man's balls swing like a pendulum... Well, here's this instead. Oh no, it's Skrillex. Now you have to— —now I have to watch this. Why. Cause I've already seen that. I hate you. I hate you. SOLD, to the lady in red. Damn. Slavery is cool. Yeah, I guess. FUCK. What. Idk. BITCH. GET OUT THE BASEMENT; I'm in the attick What you think this is? Lights, camera, action: Now that attractions been well established I should get back to it, I'm in the attic Lighting up matches, Fixin my holes up with patches Callin it classic Call me an asshole, I can't be mad man, I am a mad man, I bring the mask back To Handle a trash can Get out the basement. I told you he could dance. A GIANT DRAGON Oh shit, here it comes. FIRE. DILLON FRANCIS I Well. We're gonna die. DILLON FRANCIS II If she throws up, I get a pickle. DILLON FRANCIS III That's a deal. DILLON FRANCIS II And if she cries, I get a French poodle named Angelina Jolie. DILLON FRANCIS III Righteous. DILLON FRANCIS II Yur damn right. A GIANT DRAGON FLIES OVERHEAD, SWEEPING THE SKIES WITH FIRE AND LIGHTNING. DILLON FRANCIS I (CONT'D) Yeah, we're definitely fucked. Why are you dressed like Froto. FROTO (in background, dressed exactly alike) That is offensive! SHUTTHEFUCKUP. It's the end of the world! (At least as we know it) IS THAT SKRILLEX? FIRE BREATHING DRAGON. Well, it was. What the fuck HAPPENED?! Is that its final form? Yes it is. I'll give you one million dollars. That's not enough. This card is priceless. What is this. Like a Pokémon game?! This whoops Pokémon's ass. This is LEGENDS. LIL' BIIIITZ Yo! New York is CRAZY First of all, how is it all of a sudden CLEANER THAN LA?! New York's like: here —we sent all the nasty people to LA. All better. Polarity shift! LA is gross now! New York cleaned up! The trains are nice —shit— All the trash is in BAGS. I was like “Whaaaaaaat” this is nice. What the fuck. This shit different! Unh. they exported all the nasty, crazy motherfuxkers to LA. On GOD. Cause every other psychologically twisted individual I talk to in LA is like: “I'M FROM NEW YORK” *hawks loogie, spits* Uhhhhh… I was going on a little European adventure; New York's like: “You know, you never stay long…” I'm like “There's a reason for that…welp, gotta go.” The whole universe fucked around and was like— “You know what? We like you here. Stay. “ What. “STAY.” Fuck. New York is different. Won't say I love it — But goddamn, I like it! People are rude. People are rude as fuck. I'm used to LA where people are fake nice For fuckin tips and shit, you know? Everybody's trying to get famous for something, Or something. Idk. Fake as fuck. Fake nice. Fake happy. Fake titties. Fake lips. Just fucking fake. fake everything. Everything is plastic. —and it's not tied up in garbage bags, either. It's just plastic, and trash, and piss everywhere. It's so gross. You see Venice Beach on the movies: It's all clean and beautiful, and picturesque. You get there, it's like Skid Row + Skid Row Coastal. LA has millions of homeless people everywhere. In cars, in tents. Under bridges. Everywhere. And I love LA! I really do. But it's fake. Everything is fake. New York is real as fuck. Yeaaah. Almost too real. But I like it. You don't have to fuckin fake shit. People don't say “excuse me—“ No. You're never forced to say “good morning “ before you had your coffee! Yuh! New York is doing it right. People sleep on the train— But nobody lives on that motherfucker! I was in New York like a week before the shock wore off that there were not hundreds of individuals on every train wreaking of piss and smoking crack openly—YES—illicit drug use on trains in LA is extremely casual. Everything in LA is casual. People wear pajamas to work. Yeah—that. Everyone in New York looks like they're going to eat at a five-star restaurant. Like all the time. No socks-with-slides. EW. I swore to God socks with slides was a sign of the apocalypse; I get to New York, none of that—but the cringy thing in New York is Crocs With Socs. Now mmmm we're bi-coastal. Socks-with-slides; Crocs-with-socks. Knock that shit off. TACKY. other than that, though… NY is cool. It's chic. It's fun. You gotta be careful though. You gotta watch out. I thought LA drivers were crazy. New York drivers are fucking psychotic. Pedestrians don't have the right of way. At all. If you're in a crosswalk in LA even if the light is red, people will stop and let you go. In New York you better wait for the fuckin walk sign. They will kill you. It's okay. 6 millions ways to die: choose one! Just kidding. That's some west coast shit. But I did see a whole ass mural of Snoop Dogg in Brooklyn and get slightly confused— Till I realized everything on it was the color blue, and I was deadass in the middle of Brooklyn going “What? Ohhhhh! Wait! The Crips!” “Those guys are everywhere!” Lol. Its a nation wide disorganization. Lol. Whatever. I like New York. Doing my best not to love it, So the universe doesn't balance me out by showing me what to hate about it So far, so good New York drivers don't play. I never seen a school bus drift before! DAMN. Almost got hit by a short bus. Oh, the irony. I saw a dude do a whole ass wheelie on an electric scooter. Not a moped, by the way. An electric scooter. Yup. New Yoooooork. BEDFORD AVENUE, BROOKLYN, NY. THE BAMPHERAMPHS have initiated SEQUENCE C I like New York. I gotta say. It IS like LA In the way that I know I can't live in New York if I'm not just filthy fucking rich. Cause, you know—there's still homelessness; But unlike in LA, where you just wander around, smelling like piss, begging for change— You freeze to death. A quick solution! Haha! (It's not funny.) but whatever. America. I thought I was leaving; I got trapped in the matrix. I was like “Fuck this place.” They're like: “stay! We need slaves!” I'm like FUCK. So I got stuck in New York. Ugh. At least it's a “free state” I made it north, ma! Not exactly the safest place to get stuck with no money, either, is it? Really nowhere is safe with no money. I mean, I know of some places south of the border you can live, basically free and just, you know—sleep in a hammock, sing for change and shit. Roam the beach. I know people that do that— it's just- I like showers. I don't love showers. Cause then, I'm sure God would find a way to take that away, too. I don't love anything anymore. Once you love something—it either goes away, or it burns you. Or both. Can't love things. Can't love people. No more love. Just—appreciate—things. Just—like—things, you know? Don't love anything. Speaking of suicidal tendencies. Hahah. You know what else is cool about New York? The trains actually come into the station fast enough to kill you. Like—you've had enough? Okay: here it is. Just to save you a trip to the Empire State Building. This train is coming in at 304 miles an hour and is somehow gonna stop in 3 seconds. —maybe 2 seconds, if you do jump— Better think fast! They almost come too fast, for suicide. Ready, set— Dammit. Missed it again. They're so fast. The trains in LA stopped going suicide-fast like, a couple years ago—maybe, just before the pandemic—I think. They're like “You know what! This is happening too often. I am ALWAYS late to my other two jobs ‘cause someone killed themselves on my train! Fuck!” LA's like: “Well fuck this, all the slaves are killing themselves on the trains.” “Damn, that sucks” LA's like “Yeah, okay so: here's what we do; we'll put up signs for a suicide hotline at the popular jumping points” “LA's like: okay” “And—we'll tell the train operators they gotta slow down coming into the station—“ “That'll do it!” “—that way, If they still do decide to jump, they'll just get paralyzed, and contribute to the opioid crisis: more funding for big pharma!” “Yes, it's genius!” “—unless they're black, or on Medicaid, then: we'll send em home with some ibuprofen and make sure they collect disability, so that they can become addicted to crack, or something like that —you know.” “Yes. That's perfect.” Good Job LA. I get lost in New York. I'll be on New York like “YO, WHERE THE FUCK AM I AT?” “In New York” GODDAMMIT. You know what else is weird about New York? Personal space is not a thing. I mean, “space” is not a thing at all, anyway. But “Personal space”? No. People will not only sit by you; The'll siT ON you. Yo. I had just got to New York— I had all my luggage with me— And this lady gets on the train; She's got a broom. Idk what for, but okay; She gets onto the train, She looks around, and I guess she decides she wants the seat next to me. So like I said, I have all my stuff l so I'm a little spread out, but there's room— But you know what she does? She looks me straight in the eye And then just hits me with her broom. I was like —-?!? I'm thinking, “Okay is she racist or is that just a New York thing?” Like, “you can just hit people with shit!? damn!” What's funny is, I kinda respected her for that. She was old. Didn't say a word, just “bam” Like—- ‘move!' I'm like “okay!” New York is so classy. Girls wear panty hose, and stockings. I'm like “wow, that's actually nice. That's so wholesome! Tights?! Yeah!” It's so classy. I don't think girls in LA even wear regular panties. Let alone panty hose. Get it—panty—Hoes. I see correlation. You know what else is cool about New York. It's less racist. I mean- There's so much diversity, there's almost no room to be racist. It's crazy. So many people. So many colors. So much culture. So many languages! I hear languages I can't even place. I thought I was good. I'm in LA, I'm like, “Okay, that's Chinese—“ “That's Japanese” “That's Korean” “Farsi” I get to New York— I'm in the Delicstessen. Thats another thing. Nothing like a real, New York delicatessen. That's what “deli” is short for, by the way, everyone not from New York. It's “delicatessen” Lol. Anyway. I'm standing in the Deli and I hear some shit that—I'm not gonna lie— was actually quite alarming, as a native English speaker. I'm standing there, and this guy behind me literally over my shoulder says, “Blooppnsmabhoan ammaoakb amansbaiL aannaoka snkaoakmnlblblblnlnl!!!!” I'm like what the FUCK. This isn't REAL. “Blblblana. Akakma alak Akakamaamna!” I'm shoooook. What IS that!!? I like New York. The girls aren't all evil soulless heart eating demons. They're just “regular” I have to run back to LA and tell all my guy friends, they're like “Women are evil” I'm like— “Nooo, that's just out here.” Maybe. I don't know. I like New York. I bet it's wonderful when it's warm. I don't know! Maybe that's when shit hits the fan! Maybe it's like Chicago. EVERYBODY DIES IN THE SUMMER— Who said that. Chance the Rapper, I think. I don't know. LEGENDS: FAMESCHOOL This move is called: The “Slap-Dicksuck.” [carefully taking notes] “slap-dick-suck”…okay… hmm.. Now, class. [raises hand curiously] Yes? Um. SUPACREE— —PROFESSOR SUPACREE. Um. Professor SUPACREE— Yes! Why is it called the “Slap-Dicksuck” I was about to explain that. //SLAP-DICKSUCK// NEXT: we learn THE “SLAP-DICKSUCK-SLAP” Let me guess. No, no guessing. This class is gross. I like it. Yeah, you're gross. The world is gross. Get over it. GET OVER IT, DILLON FRANCIS. *sniffes* Please, stop crying. She— *sniffles* It's okay, Dillon. She took my piñata! Your piñata set your house on fire. He sets—everything on fire— Have you ever stopped to think— —no— thinking is bad. Go get dressed. No, not today. You look like a bloated chicken nugget. —I used to like chicken nuggets. hey, Tofu daddy. This is sick. This is a sick bitch we're dealing with. I'm not dealing with anything, I quit. Quit, you can't quit. I just did. DEADMAU5 Okay, no more bodies. Ū Okay. No more bodies. DEADMAU5 Really? Ū —No. DEADMAU5 Goddammit, this is not a GAME. Ū It is a game, though—and I'm a damn good marksman. DEADMAU5 Dammit, you're right. Ū I'm always right. Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? I powered on my phone to find the digital clock exactly at 1:15, which had seemed to be creeping up again as a recurring theme, along with some other unsettling figurines—if it was a race against time, I was losing—and If, perhaps, a Holy War, I must have been some sort of Holy, as it had seemed the world's good graces had turned her back on me, and that faith dwindled more quickly in the cold than any other condition. Lay your head on my shoulder, Your cheek on my cheek, Wrap your arm round my waist, You can think what I think You can skate on thin ice You can sing what I sing And when the ice breaks; You can sink when I sink Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? It had been strange waves of everything—more than I was ready for and much more than intentionally took on, all things considered. I burned my tongue on piping hot oatmeal, trying to eat rather than write, as it seemed the time had come that I could no longer skip meals and properly function. Nearing thirty like a bullet—and at least metaphorically bleeding as if I had actually been shot, my heart and soul throbbing and gushing into a paralyzing twist or fears and woes, trapped in a foreign city with almost nothing to my name, lugging around my music equipment and very few belongings, which—when put away neatly even in the smallest room— seemed like almost nothing, but was certainly too much to carry around, especially alone. And I was, so very alone. Drake Bell and the Hollywood Spell My newest and strangest muse yet had again insisted on appearing into my dream world, for the third time, anyway—which seemed a cruel and almost disturbing subconscious attempt to conjur up what might have been the entirety of my energy to complete the 6th Season of Enter The Multiverse, at this point which had even interested me, reinvigorating my senses and at least partially restoring my faith in something, even if it was just Hollywood being Hollywood. But now, even miles away from Hollywoodland, and stranded far, far away with no conceivable way to find my way back, even if I did have a home there waiting for me—and there wasn't—there didn't seem to be a home anywhere for me at all, and with my money running well towards dry I had spent most the week dry heaving into panic attacks about where I would go, or what I would do/—especially dragging around all of my luggage and equipment, and while it was true my equipment could have easily found it's way into a pawn shop, to at least offset the impending homelessness by maybe a couple days, and a couple hundred dollars—it didn't seem quite worth it to sell my dream again, especially for the miserable existence of sharing a hostel room with whoever decided to snore or cough their way into my hellish realm of corporate slavery, lovelessness, and lack of privacy. Yes, my conciousness had summoned up this man into my dreamworld now three times, and for whatever reason, if there was one — I could consider it a charm. Had I not been working at the smokeshop what now seemed like ages ago, I might have forgotten entirely that such a person had ever existed—which I had, since the experience, for the record, at least tried to—but for some reason, disasterously couldnt; it had all awakened something serious and spiritual within my outer world, piquing my ultra conscious into a rare and bewildering curiosity that had done well to slay and murder the cat in all of its nine lives, and then some. It wasn't entirely on purpose, or without guilt that my mind seemed to inquisitively structure an entire hidden world and to form a strange and illicit bond with this fragile man creature, not that my social status or overwhelmingly average, unattractive, stranded and abandoned wastebasket of a demon, or diety whatever I was in whatever kind of light, would have much at all to do but suffer the result of having missed the bar by far, stumbling into the lower realms of the world by mere circumstance, on occasion, without notice. I was certainly thinking about it too much, and hating myself for it, a certain spark or inspiration for the Timmy Turner timelines met with the sudden flash of what may have even been a lost memory of not for all this Hollywood trauma, or dogma, whichever made sense—because none of it did, at all, besides to reverse what time had done by allowing me to forget my turbulent childhood, which couldn't matter anymore in this moment as it ever had; and though I was producing a fruitful workout at Equinox, squatting deeply into the Smith Machine and breathing deeply into my lower back, where the tension from the weight of my leftover skin met the pain in the whole of my torso, an apparent rush sent a splash of slobber out of the side of my mouth, my third eye a gaping and burning hole streaking heat across the middle of my forehead—all of a sudden the high of Nitrous Oxide filled my mind, if only for a moment—flung back into a memory nearly two decades old. “That's it.” I remembered thinking. “No more of this.” I sat down the can of keyboard cleaner on the bathroom floor. I had scared myself straight, long before I even knew what I was doing—and I didn't know at all, having been nine, or maybe 10–long before I would ever *want* to get high, not understanding that or why I needed to, anyway—or that getting “high” was what I was doing at all. No, at the time, it simply ‘felt really good', until it didn't—the particular memory which struck me in the dead center of the Equinox floor—and snapping back into my body, shaking myself out of it and leaning into the bar to stretch, taking in a deep breath and choking back an ocean of tears. “Idiot.” I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever Dreams Wil Be Dreams. Since departing LA, all my dreams had been strange, and I found myself growing more distant from myself, or from anything real at all, my dreams skewing into a horrid soundscape of rampant memories and false hopes of love. Finally able to seek refuge in meditation, I had been bombarded with images of Dillon Francis balancing some pretty little white girl in his lap—and though I couldn't quite unhinge the Amethyst from my possession, I had been giving it the distance I needed for something like peace of mind, without the actual peace itself at play. There had been quite the spell to break, and though it hadn't even been moderately broken—I at least knew now what magic I was dealing with. Dillon Hart Francis was a powerful magician—perhaps too powerful, and with that I took my strides into gatekeeping at the very least, since no peace could be made. I could love with a wholesome heart, but a tarnished mind and a gated soul would simply not outlast the infinite journey. Though I had been illicitly carfeful not to look him in the eye last we did meet, there was a remarkable force in place far beyond control—or at least my control— which kept such power from being apprehended; I had done my best to let go, knowing it was indeed a spell at play, and rather than a curse no need to worry or fear it's users intentions. Magic was a give-and-take, and so much had been at this point taken from me that the bruises of jealousy for whatever it was being waved about my psyche as ‘better than' could do no more than to rip the rest of my heart from its crevice as I pondered on what I might have done right, or might have done wrong—if there were such things. ‘White girls get all the love.' It was only true in my heart and my mind, and so it must have sat in my soul a certain way. I had never intended really to fall into what I had fallen into with Dillon Francis—not that it couldn't or wouldn't be undone, eventually, as I was inraveling myself into an unremarkable, unastonishing whisp — a fracture in time to do much less than even be though of, or forgotten. I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever A piece of my rock had shattered on the floor of the shower at Equinox—the only stone I kept for myself, and often forgotten about, as I did myself, not that i mattered much. It shattered unevenly into three pieces, one of which I left in the sauna, quickly before departing—and the other which I had dropped in Times Square, begrudgingly under the LCD American flag by which I felt betrayed: How could our nation not only allow, but create homelessness as a scare tactic to keep the working poor working as slaves, to saciate the wealthy's wants and needs? “Whatever.” I'm not going to hurt you, You can't hurt me anymore than I can hurt myself. I'm glad you know that. I don't know anything. Suicide fucking sucks. I know that. It might be time for me to go But I just want to let you know I still got love for you; And there's still hope; I left the door open I gotta go, you know, It's hopeless for some At the end of my rope —and it's a long way home, But it's home at the end It's home at the end of a long, lond road I took the wrong one, But at least now I know you I'll go on It seems that I still have a soul, somewhere I walked in on thin air, And now I'm here; I don't know where I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever LEGENDS EDDIE MURPHY opens the heavy Victorian style door, after three solid knocks from under the GLOVED HAND which lifts the golden-brass door knocker. To what do I owe the pleasure? WHOOPI GOLDBERG Business, not pleasure. -_- Well, which business. All of ‘em. [She gestures to pass through the doorway.] Please, come in. Coffee, or Tea? Coffee this late? [beat] Coffee. This is serious. You look serious. I've been—confined. Drake Bell, you son of a bitch. Oh, so you do know my name. I know all your names. So it is. So I am. — How'd you get in this? I've always been in this. What is “always”? How did you get in this? I am this. What a philosophy. Call it what you want. What if I don't. Then don't. See you on the other side. Someone once told me, the grass is much greener— on the other side. —and when I paid a visit, (It's possible I missed it) Seemed different, yet exactly the same. DILLON FRANCIS I didn't want it to end this way. I didn't want it to end. Well, it did. You let it. I had to. Just let go. No, I can't. Hah! What's so funny? You're fucking impossible. Nothing is “impossible” you said that. But you “can't” Let this go? Ah-hah. No. This here will keep slowly unwinding until there's no more. —and then what? There's no more. Damn. This is foul. Hm. Take a time out, Timmy. I'm a take a t-t-taxi I pay my t-t-taxes The actor and the actress. Oh, He's Big Hollywood; Doesn't Have a Job, But the work's real good – His lines are smooth and his days are long, Gotta make it right, For a whole lot of wrongs He's Big-Big Hollywood Doesn't have a job; But the work's real good Coming in hot, Like he's fresh out the box That's a real big nugget, With a whole lot of sauce. Stop. What. What is this. It's a song. This is awful. FUCK IT. I DON'T CARE. Damn, Oreos AND Ben & Jerry's?! IT'S DAIRY-FREE. Tf kind o f Oreos is that. They're GLuten FrEe. FUCK IT. Sunni, get a hold of yourself. YOU GET A HOLD OF YOUR SELF. Stop yelling from across the room. I'LL YELL WHERE I WANT. Fuck this job. FUCK YOU MARIANNE. AGGHH. AGGHHHHHHHHH. Fuck What. What's up. I need a smoke break. I'M GONNA RIP YOUR HEART OUT. YOU DOn'T HAVE A HEART. SHUT UP, DILLON FRANCIS. GOd. WHO INVITED HIM, ANYWAY. I didn't. NOBODY INVITED HIM. The inspiration to music hit at just the right and the wrong time—I had finally found my way to the butt machine, only after visiting every other floor and guessing incorrectly—only to make it to the machine in just enough time to realize that I was for some reason exhausted—perhaps having just blown my last fuse, realizing I was literally down to my last, few pennies— and, unknowing of how to escape the hole I had dug myself into, falling into a carful and unsecured ‘lust' with New York, surely never to fall in love with another city as I had LA, learning my lessons well, and knowing all too well that nowhere and no one like me was safe from homelessness in the US—now having proven itself to be a hostile entity, in a full police state. It didn't seem to matter, though, as I had narrowly missed my escape nearly on purpose, but not— it seemed something entirely outward was keeping me at bay and in the US, not that I had wanted to leave out of fear for my life as much as I wanted adventure and exploration—but either way was going nowhere at all fast, and running out or money even faster. “Fuck, I hate my life” I had probably over caffeinated, at least half the reason I couldn't budge to top speed, even blasting bangarang into my eardrums at nearly top volume—this day, it only emotionally weakened me, having demoted myself entirely from any sort of elite status, back into the realm of obsessive fandom, and perhaps even schizophrenia, per Dane Cook's shenanigans. Yeah, I'm tired and I need to take like ten shits. Just finish then. If I leave early I have to come back early. Well, go, then. Muscle fatigue, check Dehydration, check Psyche completely shattered Check. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

After the ancient alien mystic chak Chel merges with supacree, she leads her on a wild adventure though space and time as the worlds newest superhero, helping supacree to master her powers and abilities, and helping her to escape the clutches of the evil and largely unknown evils of the multiverse— Meeting worlds and Banding together witb characters from infinite multidimensional worlds and realms… THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE LEGENDS GERALD'S WORLD OWSLA CONFIDENTIAL: THE INFINITE SKRILLIFILES ENTER THE MULTIVERSE DEATHWISH ASCENSION THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNÏ BLŪ SCARY MONSTERS & SUPACREE THE INSOMNIAC &MORE FROM [The Festival Project.™] SEASON 6 ACT III Part I MONTAGE: Clique, Cruel Summer Kanye West, JAY-Z & Big Sean EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES. BROAD ASS DAYLIGHT SUPACREE has unlocked 100% Of her ABILITIES GOD MODE UNLOCKED SUPACREE EXITS EQUINOX FITNESS CLUB AT LIGHTSPEED, Hitting the pavement with swift force, splitting into three dimensional selves; SUNNI BLŪ to her left and A MYSTERIOUS, unknown ALTER EGO to her right, she shifts quickly to the beat of the music, morphing into and out of parallels of the outer world, opening and closing portals, and encapsulating anything and everything within her force field—which happens to be the whole of GREATER LOS ANGELES. Damn. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Of a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something's off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful? The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world What have we done? This is bad, brother. That's a construct. Everything's a construct! Get ahold of yourself. Get ahold of—you know what? I do know. You think you're fuckin' clever. I am clever. You're a sick man. That's my business. Yeah, well—you made it my business. I am you. What a concept. *construct. God, help you! [sideways evil smirk] Hehe. SPAM! ON TACOS! BUTTERS Oh—Jesus! WHO PUTS SPAM ON TACOS?! A smart man. C'mon, Butters. We gotta get lost in the sauce before we try this out. I'MMA TRY IT OUT. OK. GOD, OH, GOD, PLEASE— MERCIFUL GOD IN HEAVEN— (WhT.) JUST— DON'T LET IT BE SKRILL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Fuxk. What. She took the train. Which fucking train. I don't know. The train. THE A TRAIN, or the B TRAIN?! HEY. WHAT, you motherfucking idiot? I THINK I LOVE YOU. Well, stop thinking. Ok. JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER has been kidnapped— He's like 50 years old. He's been dad-napped. —by the MOB. The MOB?! He's into some dark shit. Wait, he is?! In this series. He has been tied to a chair, which sits under a single spotlight in a shabby, dark room in NEW JERSEY. Ew, New Jersey. JIMMY THE MOBSTER Hi, Jimmy— JIMMY FALLON —uh—hello. JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON Oh, that's ironic. [beat] JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm gonna kill you, Jimmy. GOD If I give you a serious role, how are you gonna handle it? JIMMY FALLON like a pro. GOD don't lie to me, Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON What?! I'm not! My body, heart, mind, and soul was being attacked— I had 15 minutes to vacate the property and couldn't even focus—I had to use the bathroom so badly it hurt my soul. I was pacing back and forth, choking back ugly tears—the rude man in the room across the way still occupying the bathroom which I needed, both to clean and relieve myself—but it had been hell, after all, and needs like these had been proven to be in short supply. Fuck. This is a gun to your head. Just do it. [he moves the pistol into her mouth] Now it's in your mouth. [she unhinges her jaw to open it wider, never breaking eye contact and relaxes; he studies his hand on the grip of the tripper, ready to lill] You'll die today. [A comfort; as she relaxes, he as well changes—this seems to take the fun of killing away from him, he exacts the gun from her mouth] CONT'D You like that? I love it— You're dead, bitch! Yes, I am! A penniless whore. Whores get paid— Then, even less— What's less than this? A dead bitch. Think again. I don't think, I just shoot; Sounds like a man. Oh, I am. Then kill me with your hands. Jesus Christ, man. He can't help. No one can help you. So just shoot. [he can't] SUNNI. )&2&;@2@2$ YOU ARE OUT OF CONTROL. SUCK MY DICK. AGHHJJJ. Well. TMZ is here. This is a disaster. NEXT, WE LEARN: THE Oh my God. WhT. This is probably the worst thing I've ever written. Not the worst. Nope: it is the worst. Maybe it's just bad on paper. It's bad no matter how you — CONTROL, JANET PRIVACY. Here. Wtf is this. LEGENDS: FAME SCHOOL Christopher Walken was one of my professors in fame school For acting? For music. For music? That doesn't make any sense. Please, don't make me explain this. A FACE BATTLE CHRISTOPHER WALKEN vs. SUPACREE -_- —__^ *_- ^__ __/ *_* >< … —-__—- Ok. Alright. Show me what you got. SUPACREE plays a beat. You know where this is going. We all know where this is going. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN that was OK. “OK”?! Yeah. *shrugs* OK. You know what— You know what it needs? …what's it need? —-more cowbell. I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. It was perfect. It was OK. You're not OK. —maybe I'm not. You're definitely not. —know what helps? Don't tell me: More fucking cowbell. Lol. ⅔ ain't bad. Wait, two out or three?! Which one didn't I— —FUCK. What, what happened? They're onto me. THE BAMPHERAMPS, MOTHERFUCKING BAMPHERAMPHS, and THE ASCENDED MASTERY has assembled in NEW YORK CITY to stage a coup. It's a coup d'état. There sure is a lot of French shit over here. Well yeah, it's Paris. Wait. What, what now? If SUPACREE is in Paris. NIGGAZ. Right—then— Who the fuck are they chasing in New York. [just waking up] Why am I in New York? WHOOPI GOLDBERG you got anyplace else to be? …no. MEANWHILE, IN ROME. Fanculo! Really, dude. Apparently. A tear in my head; A rip in my soul, And the fabric of— Coming undone at the whole; I make sense of it all at the alter, The fall; To have fought in the war, And then lost, or to suffer at all Love was lost, I was never a martyr— Blood on the cross, And the crossroads, The frost and the stardust, “There's no God” For the honorable, Stuck in New York, But defrosting my toes, At the forefront I haven't once wondered or thought Of the love that I was, Since I stopped throwing rocks at the church Or got off on the wrong stop; What a puzzle, To jump off, Or rot in the heart of The hub— World of wonders, A mother of suns, Never wanted a daughter so much Unpunishment, Loved was the Duchess; To carry a crutch or a cross— So unbothered, untouched, So heartless and dark, For the marksman—a spark Or the dog does not bark At the horses You're in the clear, hero. Heartless, she was! Now, now—settle down. This is an absolute outrage. Is it, now? I say so! Maybe you shouldn't. Faro, a word, I've got three. I'll go first. [a smug look] What's happened here? A ressurection, sir. Care to explain? I said ‘three.' Where's the King? My palms grew numb as my throbbing heartache welled up into the back of my throat and sat perched up against my growling stomach, stuffed with beans and rice, perhaps to fill the sadness or satiate my need for protein, either one. ASCENSION If you're going to vomit, step away from me. —I'm not sick. Actually, step out of my house. This is your house? —I live here. —no one lives here. What did you think it was? an elaborate cave. It is—an elaborwte cave— —excuse my ignorance. You're excused entirely. —I appreciate that. I meant, from here. You should go. Faro, wait. No more waiting; you were uninvited. Trust me—this visitation is more necessary than voluntary. That's—a lot of words. I don't speak caveman. Just—get out. Listen: No more listening— It's about C'esme't. It always is. This is important. It always is. It concerns you. It always does. —? Wait. [a heavy sigh] [a long silence] Come with me. FARO leads GÍAN towards the back of his quarters. Close the door. I— what? Nevermind. You're useless. Ehrm—excuse me. Excused, your majesty. FARO opens a SECRET PASSAGEWAY into a FUTURISTIC CORIDOR, leading GÍAN into a vast FORTRESS. balls. Uh. My stomach in knots And my life is in ruins Constellations all gone, And my heart, on the border of hurt— And mistrust So unlovable, loveless— Promises, scars and the art was devoured Ah— she was awful; Ah—she must have lost her mind God, she was homeless, And loveless, And wild eyed All that I wanted, Was to get lost in the lobby, Before the whole ball dropped —and watch the false phropet Collide wirh the comet Stop: I lost God at the crosswalk, The punishment was Homeless Now watch this: This is what I wanted: Doesn't really matter now, Does it? Oh, doesn't it. God, this is Lucifer. Son, it's an honor. No God for a mother, who walks on her own. Now it's over or under. It's over. It never got started. I locked up my heart with the piñata. How irrelevant. How awkward. How curse words turn to mantras. How I have half a heart Or, like ⅓ We're being honest, now. I thought Illuminati wanted hotties and Caucasians. Well, I guess that'll explain, Why you've been stuck inside a cage, then. NICK CAGE is an extremely skilled time traveler. Ok. WHOOPI GOLDBERG has freed herself from the cage in which SUPACREE had skillfully trapped the OWL OF THE GOLDEN EYE. WhT a prophecy. MEANWHILE, AT HOGWARTS. HOGWARTS, 2023. ANANDAR is HEADMASTER. Ah, fuck. I'm gonna puke. All I wanted was to shamelessly watch the man's balls swing like a pendulum... Well, here's this instead. Oh no, it's Skrillex. Now you have to— —now I have to watch this. Why. Cause I've already seen that. I hate you. I hate you. SOLD, to the lady in red. Damn. Slavery is cool. Yeah, I guess. FUCK. What. Idk. BITCH. GET OUT THE BASEMENT; I'm in the attick What you think this is? Lights, camera, action: Now that attractions been well established I should get back to it, I'm in the attic Lighting up matches, Fixin my holes up with patches Callin it classic Call me an asshole, I can't be mad man, I am a mad man, I bring the mask back To Handle a trash can Get out the basement. I told you he could dance. A GIANT DRAGON Oh shit, here it comes. FIRE. DILLON FRANCIS I Well. We're gonna die. DILLON FRANCIS II If she throws up, I get a pickle. DILLON FRANCIS III That's a deal. DILLON FRANCIS II And if she cries, I get a French poodle named Angelina Jolie. DILLON FRANCIS III Righteous. DILLON FRANCIS II Yur damn right. A GIANT DRAGON FLIES OVERHEAD, SWEEPING THE SKIES WITH FIRE AND LIGHTNING. DILLON FRANCIS I (CONT'D) Yeah, we're definitely fucked. Why are you dressed like Froto. FROTO (in background, dressed exactly alike) That is offensive! SHUTTHEFUCKUP. It's the end of the world! (At least as we know it) IS THAT SKRILLEX? FIRE BREATHING DRAGON. Well, it was. What the fuck HAPPENED?! Is that its final form? Yes it is. I'll give you one million dollars. That's not enough. This card is priceless. What is this. Like a Pokémon game?! This whoops Pokémon's ass. This is LEGENDS. LIL' BIIIITZ Yo! New York is CRAZY First of all, how is it all of a sudden CLEANER THAN LA?! New York's like: here —we sent all the nasty people to LA. All better. Polarity shift! LA is gross now! New York cleaned up! The trains are nice —shit— All the trash is in BAGS. I was like “Whaaaaaaat” this is nice. What the fuck. This shit different! Unh. they exported all the nasty, crazy motherfuxkers to LA. On GOD. Cause every other psychologically twisted individual I talk to in LA is like: “I'M FROM NEW YORK” *hawks loogie, spits* Uhhhhh… I was going on a little European adventure; New York's like: “You know, you never stay long…” I'm like “There's a reason for that…welp, gotta go.” The whole universe fucked around and was like— “You know what? We like you here. Stay. “ What. “STAY.” Fuck. New York is different. Won't say I love it — But goddamn, I like it! People are rude. People are rude as fuck. I'm used to LA where people are fake nice For fuckin tips and shit, you know? Everybody's trying to get famous for something, Or something. Idk. Fake as fuck. Fake nice. Fake happy. Fake titties. Fake lips. Just fucking fake. fake everything. Everything is plastic. —and it's not tied up in garbage bags, either. It's just plastic, and trash, and piss everywhere. It's so gross. You see Venice Beach on the movies: It's all clean and beautiful, and picturesque. You get there, it's like Skid Row + Skid Row Coastal. LA has millions of homeless people everywhere. In cars, in tents. Under bridges. Everywhere. And I love LA! I really do. But it's fake. Everything is fake. New York is real as fuck. Yeaaah. Almost too real. But I like it. You don't have to fuckin fake shit. People don't say “excuse me—“ No. You're never forced to say “good morning “ before you had your coffee! Yuh! New York is doing it right. People sleep on the train— But nobody lives on that motherfucker! I was in New York like a week before the shock wore off that there were not hundreds of individuals on every train wreaking of piss and smoking crack openly—YES—illicit drug use on trains in LA is extremely casual. Everything in LA is casual. People wear pajamas to work. Yeah—that. Everyone in New York looks like they're going to eat at a five-star restaurant. Like all the time. No socks-with-slides. EW. I swore to God socks with slides was a sign of the apocalypse; I get to New York, none of that—but the cringy thing in New York is Crocs With Socs. Now mmmm we're bi-coastal. Socks-with-slides; Crocs-with-socks. Knock that shit off. TACKY. other than that, though… NY is cool. It's chic. It's fun. You gotta be careful though. You gotta watch out. I thought LA drivers were crazy. New York drivers are fucking psychotic. Pedestrians don't have the right of way. At all. If you're in a crosswalk in LA even if the light is red, people will stop and let you go. In New York you better wait for the fuckin walk sign. They will kill you. It's okay. 6 millions ways to die: choose one! Just kidding. That's some west coast shit. But I did see a whole ass mural of Snoop Dogg in Brooklyn and get slightly confused— Till I realized everything on it was the color blue, and I was deadass in the middle of Brooklyn going “What? Ohhhhh! Wait! The Crips!” “Those guys are everywhere!” Lol. Its a nation wide disorganization. Lol. Whatever. I like New York. Doing my best not to love it, So the universe doesn't balance me out by showing me what to hate about it So far, so good New York drivers don't play. I never seen a school bus drift before! DAMN. Almost got hit by a short bus. Oh, the irony. I saw a dude do a whole ass wheelie on an electric scooter. Not a moped, by the way. An electric scooter. Yup. New Yoooooork. BEDFORD AVENUE, BROOKLYN, NY. THE BAMPHERAMPHS have initiated SEQUENCE C I like New York. I gotta say. It IS like LA In the way that I know I can't live in New York if I'm not just filthy fucking rich. Cause, you know—there's still homelessness; But unlike in LA, where you just wander around, smelling like piss, begging for change— You freeze to death. A quick solution! Haha! (It's not funny.) but whatever. America. I thought I was leaving; I got trapped in the matrix. I was like “Fuck this place.” They're like: “stay! We need slaves!” I'm like FUCK. So I got stuck in New York. Ugh. At least it's a “free state” I made it north, ma! Not exactly the safest place to get stuck with no money, either, is it? Really nowhere is safe with no money. I mean, I know of some places south of the border you can live, basically free and just, you know—sleep in a hammock, sing for change and shit. Roam the beach. I know people that do that— it's just- I like showers. I don't love showers. Cause then, I'm sure God would find a way to take that away, too. I don't love anything anymore. Once you love something—it either goes away, or it burns you. Or both. Can't love things. Can't love people. No more love. Just—appreciate—things. Just—like—things, you know? Don't love anything. Speaking of suicidal tendencies. Hahah. You know what else is cool about New York? The trains actually come into the station fast enough to kill you. Like—you've had enough? Okay: here it is. Just to save you a trip to the Empire State Building. This train is coming in at 304 miles an hour and is somehow gonna stop in 3 seconds. —maybe 2 seconds, if you do jump— Better think fast! They almost come too fast, for suicide. Ready, set— Dammit. Missed it again. They're so fast. The trains in LA stopped going suicide-fast like, a couple years ago—maybe, just before the pandemic—I think. They're like “You know what! This is happening too often. I am ALWAYS late to my other two jobs ‘cause someone killed themselves on my train! Fuck!” LA's like: “Well fuck this, all the slaves are killing themselves on the trains.” “Damn, that sucks” LA's like “Yeah, okay so: here's what we do; we'll put up signs for a suicide hotline at the popular jumping points” “LA's like: okay” “And—we'll tell the train operators they gotta slow down coming into the station—“ “That'll do it!” “—that way, If they still do decide to jump, they'll just get paralyzed, and contribute to the opioid crisis: more funding for big pharma!” “Yes, it's genius!” “—unless they're black, or on Medicaid, then: we'll send em home with some ibuprofen and make sure they collect disability, so that they can become addicted to crack, or something like that —you know.” “Yes. That's perfect.” Good Job LA. I get lost in New York. I'll be on New York like “YO, WHERE THE FUCK AM I AT?” “In New York” GODDAMMIT. You know what else is weird about New York? Personal space is not a thing. I mean, “space” is not a thing at all, anyway. But “Personal space”? No. People will not only sit by you; The'll siT ON you. Yo. I had just got to New York— I had all my luggage with me— And this lady gets on the train; She's got a broom. Idk what for, but okay; She gets onto the train, She looks around, and I guess she decides she wants the seat next to me. So like I said, I have all my stuff l so I'm a little spread out, but there's room— But you know what she does? She looks me straight in the eye And then just hits me with her broom. I was like —-?!? I'm thinking, “Okay is she racist or is that just a New York thing?” Like, “you can just hit people with shit!? damn!” What's funny is, I kinda respected her for that. She was old. Didn't say a word, just “bam” Like—- ‘move!' I'm like “okay!” New York is so classy. Girls wear panty hose, and stockings. I'm like “wow, that's actually nice. That's so wholesome! Tights?! Yeah!” It's so classy. I don't think girls in LA even wear regular panties. Let alone panty hose. Get it—panty—Hoes. I see correlation. You know what else is cool about New York. It's less racist. I mean- There's so much diversity, there's almost no room to be racist. It's crazy. So many people. So many colors. So much culture. So many languages! I hear languages I can't even place. I thought I was good. I'm in LA, I'm like, “Okay, that's Chinese—“ “That's Japanese” “That's Korean” “Farsi” I get to New York— I'm in the Delicstessen. Thats another thing. Nothing like a real, New York delicatessen. That's what “deli” is short for, by the way, everyone not from New York. It's “delicatessen” Lol. Anyway. I'm standing in the Deli and I hear some shit that—I'm not gonna lie— was actually quite alarming, as a native English speaker. I'm standing there, and this guy behind me literally over my shoulder says, “Blooppnsmabhoan ammaoakb amansbaiL aannaoka snkaoakmnlblblblnlnl!!!!” I'm like what the FUCK. This isn't REAL. “Blblblana. Akakma alak Akakamaamna!” I'm shoooook. What IS that!!? I like New York. The girls aren't all evil soulless heart eating demons. They're just “regular” I have to run back to LA and tell all my guy friends, they're like “Women are evil” I'm like— “Nooo, that's just out here.” Maybe. I don't know. I like New York. I bet it's wonderful when it's warm. I don't know! Maybe that's when shit hits the fan! Maybe it's like Chicago. EVERYBODY DIES IN THE SUMMER— Who said that. Chance the Rapper, I think. I don't know. LEGENDS: FAMESCHOOL This move is called: The “Slap-Dicksuck.” [carefully taking notes] “slap-dick-suck”…okay… hmm.. Now, class. [raises hand curiously] Yes? Um. SUPACREE— —PROFESSOR SUPACREE. Um. Professor SUPACREE— Yes! Why is it called the “Slap-Dicksuck” I was about to explain that. //SLAP-DICKSUCK// NEXT: we learn THE “SLAP-DICKSUCK-SLAP” Let me guess. No, no guessing. This class is gross. I like it. Yeah, you're gross. The world is gross. Get over it. GET OVER IT, DILLON FRANCIS. *sniffes* Please, stop crying. She— *sniffles* It's okay, Dillon. She took my piñata! Your piñata set your house on fire. He sets—everything on fire— Have you ever stopped to think— —no— thinking is bad. Go get dressed. No, not today. You look like a bloated chicken nugget. —I used to like chicken nuggets. hey, Tofu daddy. This is sick. This is a sick bitch we're dealing with. I'm not dealing with anything, I quit. Quit, you can't quit. I just did. DEADMAU5 Okay, no more bodies. Ū Okay. No more bodies. DEADMAU5 Really? Ū —No. DEADMAU5 Goddammit, this is not a GAME. Ū It is a game, though—and I'm a damn good marksman. DEADMAU5 Dammit, you're right. Ū I'm always right. Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? I powered on my phone to find the digital clock exactly at 1:15, which had seemed to be creeping up again as a recurring theme, along with some other unsettling figurines—if it was a race against time, I was losing—and If, perhaps, a Holy War, I must have been some sort of Holy, as it had seemed the world's good graces had turned her back on me, and that faith dwindled more quickly in the cold than any other condition. Lay your head on my shoulder, Your cheek on my cheek, Wrap your arm round my waist, You can think what I think You can skate on thin ice You can sing what I sing And when the ice breaks; You can sink when I sink Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? It had been strange waves of everything—more than I was ready for and much more than intentionally took on, all things considered. I burned my tongue on piping hot oatmeal, trying to eat rather than write, as it seemed the time had come that I could no longer skip meals and properly function. Nearing thirty like a bullet—and at least metaphorically bleeding as if I had actually been shot, my heart and soul throbbing and gushing into a paralyzing twist or fears and woes, trapped in a foreign city with almost nothing to my name, lugging around my music equipment and very few belongings, which—when put away neatly even in the smallest room— seemed like almost nothing, but was certainly too much to carry around, especially alone. And I was, so very alone. Drake Bell and the Hollywood Spell My newest and strangest muse yet had again insisted on appearing into my dream world, for the third time, anyway—which seemed a cruel and almost disturbing subconscious attempt to conjur up what might have been the entirety of my energy to complete the 6th Season of Enter The Multiverse, at this point which had even interested me, reinvigorating my senses and at least partially restoring my faith in something, even if it was just Hollywood being Hollywood. But now, even miles away from Hollywoodland, and stranded far, far away with no conceivable way to find my way back, even if I did have a home there waiting for me—and there wasn't—there didn't seem to be a home anywhere for me at all, and with my money running well towards dry I had spent most the week dry heaving into panic attacks about where I would go, or what I would do/—especially dragging around all of my luggage and equipment, and while it was true my equipment could have easily found it's way into a pawn shop, to at least offset the impending homelessness by maybe a couple days, and a couple hundred dollars—it didn't seem quite worth it to sell my dream again, especially for the miserable existence of sharing a hostel room with whoever decided to snore or cough their way into my hellish realm of corporate slavery, lovelessness, and lack of privacy. Yes, my conciousness had summoned up this man into my dreamworld now three times, and for whatever reason, if there was one — I could consider it a charm. Had I not been working at the smokeshop what now seemed like ages ago, I might have forgotten entirely that such a person had ever existed—which I had, since the experience, for the record, at least tried to—but for some reason, disasterously couldnt; it had all awakened something serious and spiritual within my outer world, piquing my ultra conscious into a rare and bewildering curiosity that had done well to slay and murder the cat in all of its nine lives, and then some. It wasn't entirely on purpose, or without guilt that my mind seemed to inquisitively structure an entire hidden world and to form a strange and illicit bond with this fragile man creature, not that my social status or overwhelmingly average, unattractive, stranded and abandoned wastebasket of a demon, or diety whatever I was in whatever kind of light, would have much at all to do but suffer the result of having missed the bar by far, stumbling into the lower realms of the world by mere circumstance, on occasion, without notice. I was certainly thinking about it too much, and hating myself for it, a certain spark or inspiration for the Timmy Turner timelines met with the sudden flash of what may have even been a lost memory of not for all this Hollywood trauma, or dogma, whichever made sense—because none of it did, at all, besides to reverse what time had done by allowing me to forget my turbulent childhood, which couldn't matter anymore in this moment as it ever had; and though I was producing a fruitful workout at Equinox, squatting deeply into the Smith Machine and breathing deeply into my lower back, where the tension from the weight of my leftover skin met the pain in the whole of my torso, an apparent rush sent a splash of slobber out of the side of my mouth, my third eye a gaping and burning hole streaking heat across the middle of my forehead—all of a sudden the high of Nitrous Oxide filled my mind, if only for a moment—flung back into a memory nearly two decades old. “That's it.” I remembered thinking. “No more of this.” I sat down the can of keyboard cleaner on the bathroom floor. I had scared myself straight, long before I even knew what I was doing—and I didn't know at all, having been nine, or maybe 10–long before I would ever *want* to get high, not understanding that or why I needed to, anyway—or that getting “high” was what I was doing at all. No, at the time, it simply ‘felt really good', until it didn't—the particular memory which struck me in the dead center of the Equinox floor—and snapping back into my body, shaking myself out of it and leaning into the bar to stretch, taking in a deep breath and choking back an ocean of tears. “Idiot.” I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever Dreams Wil Be Dreams. Since departing LA, all my dreams had been strange, and I found myself growing more distant from myself, or from anything real at all, my dreams skewing into a horrid soundscape of rampant memories and false hopes of love. Finally able to seek refuge in meditation, I had been bombarded with images of Dillon Francis balancing some pretty little white girl in his lap—and though I couldn't quite unhinge the Amethyst from my possession, I had been giving it the distance I needed for something like peace of mind, without the actual peace itself at play. There had been quite the spell to break, and though it hadn't even been moderately broken—I at least knew now what magic I was dealing with. Dillon Hart Francis was a powerful magician—perhaps too powerful, and with that I took my strides into gatekeeping at the very least, since no peace could be made. I could love with a wholesome heart, but a tarnished mind and a gated soul would simply not outlast the infinite journey. Though I had been illicitly carfeful not to look him in the eye last we did meet, there was a remarkable force in place far beyond control—or at least my control— which kept such power from being apprehended; I had done my best to let go, knowing it was indeed a spell at play, and rather than a curse no need to worry or fear it's users intentions. Magic was a give-and-take, and so much had been at this point taken from me that the bruises of jealousy for whatever it was being waved about my psyche as ‘better than' could do no more than to rip the rest of my heart from its crevice as I pondered on what I might have done right, or might have done wrong—if there were such things. ‘White girls get all the love.' It was only true in my heart and my mind, and so it must have sat in my soul a certain way. I had never intended really to fall into what I had fallen into with Dillon Francis—not that it couldn't or wouldn't be undone, eventually, as I was inraveling myself into an unremarkable, unastonishing whisp — a fracture in time to do much less than even be though of, or forgotten. I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever A piece of my rock had shattered on the floor of the shower at Equinox—the only stone I kept for myself, and often forgotten about, as I did myself, not that i mattered much. It shattered unevenly into three pieces, one of which I left in the sauna, quickly before departing—and the other which I had dropped in Times Square, begrudgingly under the LCD American flag by which I felt betrayed: How could our nation not only allow, but create homelessness as a scare tactic to keep the working poor working as slaves, to saciate the wealthy's wants and needs? “Whatever.” I'm not going to hurt you, You can't hurt me anymore than I can hurt myself. I'm glad you know that. I don't know anything. Suicide fucking sucks. I know that. It might be time for me to go But I just want to let you know I still got love for you; And there's still hope; I left the door open I gotta go, you know, It's hopeless for some At the end of my rope —and it's a long way home, But it's home at the end It's home at the end of a long, lond road I took the wrong one, But at least now I know you I'll go on It seems that I still have a soul, somewhere I walked in on thin air, And now I'm here; I don't know where I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever LEGENDS EDDIE MURPHY opens the heavy Victorian style door, after three solid knocks from under the GLOVED HAND which lifts the golden-brass door knocker. To what do I owe the pleasure? WHOOPI GOLDBERG Business, not pleasure. -_- Well, which business. All of ‘em. [She gestures to pass through the doorway.] Please, come in. Coffee, or Tea? Coffee this late? [beat] Coffee. This is serious. You look serious. I've been—confined. Drake Bell, you son of a bitch. Oh, so you do know my name. I know all your names. So it is. So I am. — How'd you get in this? I've always been in this. What is “always”? How did you get in this? I am this. What a philosophy. Call it what you want. What if I don't. Then don't. See you on the other side. Someone once told me, the grass is much greener— on the other side. —and when I paid a visit, (It's possible I missed it) Seemed different, yet exactly the same. DILLON FRANCIS I didn't want it to end this way. I didn't want it to end. Well, it did. You let it. I had to. Just let go. No, I can't. Hah! What's so funny? You're fucking impossible. Nothing is “impossible” you said that. But you “can't” Let this go? Ah-hah. No. This here will keep slowly unwinding until there's no more. —and then what? There's no more. Damn. This is foul. Hm. Take a time out, Timmy. I'm a take a t-t-taxi I pay my t-t-taxes The actor and the actress. Oh, He's Big Hollywood; Doesn't Have a Job, But the work's real good – His lines are smooth and his days are long, Gotta make it right, For a whole lot of wrongs He's Big-Big Hollywood Doesn't have a job; But the work's real good Coming in hot, Like he's fresh out the box That's a real big nugget, With a whole lot of sauce. Stop. What. What is this. It's a song. This is awful. FUCK IT. I DON'T CARE. Damn, Oreos AND Ben & Jerry's?! IT'S DAIRY-FREE. Tf kind o f Oreos is that. They're GLuten FrEe. FUCK IT. Sunni, get a hold of yourself. YOU GET A HOLD OF YOUR SELF. Stop yelling from across the room. I'LL YELL WHERE I WANT. Fuck this job. FUCK YOU MARIANNE. AGGHH. AGGHHHHHHHHH. Fuck What. What's up. I need a smoke break. I'M GONNA RIP YOUR HEART OUT. YOU DOn'T HAVE A HEART. SHUT UP, DILLON FRANCIS. GOd. WHO INVITED HIM, ANYWAY. I didn't. NOBODY INVITED HIM. The inspiration to music hit at just the right and the wrong time—I had finally found my way to the butt machine, only after visiting every other floor and guessing incorrectly—only to make it to the machine in just enough time to realize that I was for some reason exhausted—perhaps having just blown my last fuse, realizing I was literally down to my last, few pennies— and, unknowing of how to escape the hole I had dug myself into, falling into a carful and unsecured ‘lust' with New York, surely never to fall in love with another city as I had LA, learning my lessons well, and knowing all too well that nowhere and no one like me was safe from homelessness in the US—now having proven itself to be a hostile entity, in a full police state. It didn't seem to matter, though, as I had narrowly missed my escape nearly on purpose, but not— it seemed something entirely outward was keeping me at bay and in the US, not that I had wanted to leave out of fear for my life as much as I wanted adventure and exploration—but either way was going nowhere at all fast, and running out or money even faster. “Fuck, I hate my life” I had probably over caffeinated, at least half the reason I couldn't budge to top speed, even blasting bangarang into my eardrums at nearly top volume—this day, it only emotionally weakened me, having demoted myself entirely from any sort of elite status, back into the realm of obsessive fandom, and perhaps even schizophrenia, per Dane Cook's shenanigans. Yeah, I'm tired and I need to take like ten shits. Just finish then. If I leave early I have to come back early. Well, go, then. Muscle fatigue, check Dehydration, check Psyche completely shattered Check. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

After the ancient alien mystic chak Chel merges with supacree, she leads her on a wild adventure though space and time as the worlds newest superhero, helping supacree to master her powers and abilities, and helping her to escape the clutches of the evil and largely unknown evils of the multiverse— Meeting worlds and Banding together witb characters from infinite multidimensional worlds and realms… THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE LEGENDS GERALD'S WORLD OWSLA CONFIDENTIAL: THE INFINITE SKRILLIFILES ENTER THE MULTIVERSE DEATHWISH ASCENSION THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNÏ BLŪ SCARY MONSTERS & SUPACREE THE INSOMNIAC &MORE FROM [The Festival Project.™] SEASON 6 ACT III Part I MONTAGE: Clique, Cruel Summer Kanye West, JAY-Z & Big Sean EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES. BROAD ASS DAYLIGHT SUPACREE has unlocked 100% Of her ABILITIES GOD MODE UNLOCKED SUPACREE EXITS EQUINOX FITNESS CLUB AT LIGHTSPEED, Hitting the pavement with swift force, splitting into three dimensional selves; SUNNI BLŪ to her left and A MYSTERIOUS, unknown ALTER EGO to her right, she shifts quickly to the beat of the music, morphing into and out of parallels of the outer world, opening and closing portals, and encapsulating anything and everything within her force field—which happens to be the whole of GREATER LOS ANGELES. Damn. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Of a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something's off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful? The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world What have we done? This is bad, brother. That's a construct. Everything's a construct! Get ahold of yourself. Get ahold of—you know what? I do know. You think you're fuckin' clever. I am clever. You're a sick man. That's my business. Yeah, well—you made it my business. I am you. What a concept. *construct. God, help you! [sideways evil smirk] Hehe. SPAM! ON TACOS! BUTTERS Oh—Jesus! WHO PUTS SPAM ON TACOS?! A smart man. C'mon, Butters. We gotta get lost in the sauce before we try this out. I'MMA TRY IT OUT. OK. GOD, OH, GOD, PLEASE— MERCIFUL GOD IN HEAVEN— (WhT.) JUST— DON'T LET IT BE SKRILL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Fuxk. What. She took the train. Which fucking train. I don't know. The train. THE A TRAIN, or the B TRAIN?! HEY. WHAT, you motherfucking idiot? I THINK I LOVE YOU. Well, stop thinking. Ok. JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER has been kidnapped— He's like 50 years old. He's been dad-napped. —by the MOB. The MOB?! He's into some dark shit. Wait, he is?! In this series. He has been tied to a chair, which sits under a single spotlight in a shabby, dark room in NEW JERSEY. Ew, New Jersey. JIMMY THE MOBSTER Hi, Jimmy— JIMMY FALLON —uh—hello. JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON Oh, that's ironic. [beat] JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm gonna kill you, Jimmy. GOD If I give you a serious role, how are you gonna handle it? JIMMY FALLON like a pro. GOD don't lie to me, Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON What?! I'm not! My body, heart, mind, and soul was being attacked— I had 15 minutes to vacate the property and couldn't even focus—I had to use the bathroom so badly it hurt my soul. I was pacing back and forth, choking back ugly tears—the rude man in the room across the way still occupying the bathroom which I needed, both to clean and relieve myself—but it had been hell, after all, and needs like these had been proven to be in short supply. Fuck. This is a gun to your head. Just do it. [he moves the pistol into her mouth] Now it's in your mouth. [she unhinges her jaw to open it wider, never breaking eye contact and relaxes; he studies his hand on the grip of the tripper, ready to lill] You'll die today. [A comfort; as she relaxes, he as well changes—this seems to take the fun of killing away from him, he exacts the gun from her mouth] CONT'D You like that? I love it— You're dead, bitch! Yes, I am! A penniless whore. Whores get paid— Then, even less— What's less than this? A dead bitch. Think again. I don't think, I just shoot; Sounds like a man. Oh, I am. Then kill me with your hands. Jesus Christ, man. He can't help. No one can help you. So just shoot. [he can't] SUNNI. )&2&;@2@2$ YOU ARE OUT OF CONTROL. SUCK MY DICK. AGHHJJJ. Well. TMZ is here. This is a disaster. NEXT, WE LEARN: THE Oh my God. WhT. This is probably the worst thing I've ever written. Not the worst. Nope: it is the worst. Maybe it's just bad on paper. It's bad no matter how you — CONTROL, JANET PRIVACY. Here. Wtf is this. LEGENDS: FAME SCHOOL Christopher Walken was one of my professors in fame school For acting? For music. For music? That doesn't make any sense. Please, don't make me explain this. A FACE BATTLE CHRISTOPHER WALKEN vs. SUPACREE -_- —__^ *_- ^__ __/ *_* >< … —-__—- Ok. Alright. Show me what you got. SUPACREE plays a beat. You know where this is going. We all know where this is going. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN that was OK. “OK”?! Yeah. *shrugs* OK. You know what— You know what it needs? …what's it need? —-more cowbell. I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. It was perfect. It was OK. You're not OK. —maybe I'm not. You're definitely not. —know what helps? Don't tell me: More fucking cowbell. Lol. ⅔ ain't bad. Wait, two out or three?! Which one didn't I— —FUCK. What, what happened? They're onto me. THE BAMPHERAMPS, MOTHERFUCKING BAMPHERAMPHS, and THE ASCENDED MASTERY has assembled in NEW YORK CITY to stage a coup. It's a coup d'état. There sure is a lot of French shit over here. Well yeah, it's Paris. Wait. What, what now? If SUPACREE is in Paris. NIGGAZ. Right—then— Who the fuck are they chasing in New York. [just waking up] Why am I in New York? WHOOPI GOLDBERG you got anyplace else to be? …no. MEANWHILE, IN ROME. Fanculo! Really, dude. Apparently. A tear in my head; A rip in my soul, And the fabric of— Coming undone at the whole; I make sense of it all at the alter, The fall; To have fought in the war, And then lost, or to suffer at all Love was lost, I was never a martyr— Blood on the cross, And the crossroads, The frost and the stardust, “There's no God” For the honorable, Stuck in New York, But defrosting my toes, At the forefront I haven't once wondered or thought Of the love that I was, Since I stopped throwing rocks at the church Or got off on the wrong stop; What a puzzle, To jump off, Or rot in the heart of The hub— World of wonders, A mother of suns, Never wanted a daughter so much Unpunishment, Loved was the Duchess; To carry a crutch or a cross— So unbothered, untouched, So heartless and dark, For the marksman—a spark Or the dog does not bark At the horses You're in the clear, hero. Heartless, she was! Now, now—settle down. This is an absolute outrage. Is it, now? I say so! Maybe you shouldn't. Faro, a word, I've got three. I'll go first. [a smug look] What's happened here? A ressurection, sir. Care to explain? I said ‘three.' Where's the King? My palms grew numb as my throbbing heartache welled up into the back of my throat and sat perched up against my growling stomach, stuffed with beans and rice, perhaps to fill the sadness or satiate my need for protein, either one. ASCENSION If you're going to vomit, step away from me. —I'm not sick. Actually, step out of my house. This is your house? —I live here. —no one lives here. What did you think it was? an elaborate cave. It is—an elaborwte cave— —excuse my ignorance. You're excused entirely. —I appreciate that. I meant, from here. You should go. Faro, wait. No more waiting; you were uninvited. Trust me—this visitation is more necessary than voluntary. That's—a lot of words. I don't speak caveman. Just—get out. Listen: No more listening— It's about C'esme't. It always is. This is important. It always is. It concerns you. It always does. —? Wait. [a heavy sigh] [a long silence] Come with me. FARO leads GÍAN towards the back of his quarters. Close the door. I— what? Nevermind. You're useless. Ehrm—excuse me. Excused, your majesty. FARO opens a SECRET PASSAGEWAY into a FUTURISTIC CORIDOR, leading GÍAN into a vast FORTRESS. balls. Uh. My stomach in knots And my life is in ruins Constellations all gone, And my heart, on the border of hurt— And mistrust So unlovable, loveless— Promises, scars and the art was devoured Ah— she was awful; Ah—she must have lost her mind God, she was homeless, And loveless, And wild eyed All that I wanted, Was to get lost in the lobby, Before the whole ball dropped —and watch the false phropet Collide wirh the comet Stop: I lost God at the crosswalk, The punishment was Homeless Now watch this: This is what I wanted: Doesn't really matter now, Does it? Oh, doesn't it. God, this is Lucifer. Son, it's an honor. No God for a mother, who walks on her own. Now it's over or under. It's over. It never got started. I locked up my heart with the piñata. How irrelevant. How awkward. How curse words turn to mantras. How I have half a heart Or, like ⅓ We're being honest, now. I thought Illuminati wanted hotties and Caucasians. Well, I guess that'll explain, Why you've been stuck inside a cage, then. NICK CAGE is an extremely skilled time traveler. Ok. WHOOPI GOLDBERG has freed herself from the cage in which SUPACREE had skillfully trapped the OWL OF THE GOLDEN EYE. WhT a prophecy. MEANWHILE, AT HOGWARTS. HOGWARTS, 2023. ANANDAR is HEADMASTER. Ah, fuck. I'm gonna puke. All I wanted was to shamelessly watch the man's balls swing like a pendulum... Well, here's this instead. Oh no, it's Skrillex. Now you have to— —now I have to watch this. Why. Cause I've already seen that. I hate you. I hate you. SOLD, to the lady in red. Damn. Slavery is cool. Yeah, I guess. FUCK. What. Idk. BITCH. GET OUT THE BASEMENT; I'm in the attick What you think this is? Lights, camera, action: Now that attractions been well established I should get back to it, I'm in the attic Lighting up matches, Fixin my holes up with patches Callin it classic Call me an asshole, I can't be mad man, I am a mad man, I bring the mask back To Handle a trash can Get out the basement. I told you he could dance. A GIANT DRAGON Oh shit, here it comes. FIRE. DILLON FRANCIS I Well. We're gonna die. DILLON FRANCIS II If she throws up, I get a pickle. DILLON FRANCIS III That's a deal. DILLON FRANCIS II And if she cries, I get a French poodle named Angelina Jolie. DILLON FRANCIS III Righteous. DILLON FRANCIS II Yur damn right. A GIANT DRAGON FLIES OVERHEAD, SWEEPING THE SKIES WITH FIRE AND LIGHTNING. DILLON FRANCIS I (CONT'D) Yeah, we're definitely fucked. Why are you dressed like Froto. FROTO (in background, dressed exactly alike) That is offensive! SHUTTHEFUCKUP. It's the end of the world! (At least as we know it) IS THAT SKRILLEX? FIRE BREATHING DRAGON. Well, it was. What the fuck HAPPENED?! Is that its final form? Yes it is. I'll give you one million dollars. That's not enough. This card is priceless. What is this. Like a Pokémon game?! This whoops Pokémon's ass. This is LEGENDS. LIL' BIIIITZ Yo! New York is CRAZY First of all, how is it all of a sudden CLEANER THAN LA?! New York's like: here —we sent all the nasty people to LA. All better. Polarity shift! LA is gross now! New York cleaned up! The trains are nice —shit— All the trash is in BAGS. I was like “Whaaaaaaat” this is nice. What the fuck. This shit different! Unh. they exported all the nasty, crazy motherfuxkers to LA. On GOD. Cause every other psychologically twisted individual I talk to in LA is like: “I'M FROM NEW YORK” *hawks loogie, spits* Uhhhhh… I was going on a little European adventure; New York's like: “You know, you never stay long…” I'm like “There's a reason for that…welp, gotta go.” The whole universe fucked around and was like— “You know what? We like you here. Stay. “ What. “STAY.” Fuck. New York is different. Won't say I love it — But goddamn, I like it! People are rude. People are rude as fuck. I'm used to LA where people are fake nice For fuckin tips and shit, you know? Everybody's trying to get famous for something, Or something. Idk. Fake as fuck. Fake nice. Fake happy. Fake titties. Fake lips. Just fucking fake. fake everything. Everything is plastic. —and it's not tied up in garbage bags, either. It's just plastic, and trash, and piss everywhere. It's so gross. You see Venice Beach on the movies: It's all clean and beautiful, and picturesque. You get there, it's like Skid Row + Skid Row Coastal. LA has millions of homeless people everywhere. In cars, in tents. Under bridges. Everywhere. And I love LA! I really do. But it's fake. Everything is fake. New York is real as fuck. Yeaaah. Almost too real. But I like it. You don't have to fuckin fake shit. People don't say “excuse me—“ No. You're never forced to say “good morning “ before you had your coffee! Yuh! New York is doing it right. People sleep on the train— But nobody lives on that motherfucker! I was in New York like a week before the shock wore off that there were not hundreds of individuals on every train wreaking of piss and smoking crack openly—YES—illicit drug use on trains in LA is extremely casual. Everything in LA is casual. People wear pajamas to work. Yeah—that. Everyone in New York looks like they're going to eat at a five-star restaurant. Like all the time. No socks-with-slides. EW. I swore to God socks with slides was a sign of the apocalypse; I get to New York, none of that—but the cringy thing in New York is Crocs With Socs. Now mmmm we're bi-coastal. Socks-with-slides; Crocs-with-socks. Knock that shit off. TACKY. other than that, though… NY is cool. It's chic. It's fun. You gotta be careful though. You gotta watch out. I thought LA drivers were crazy. New York drivers are fucking psychotic. Pedestrians don't have the right of way. At all. If you're in a crosswalk in LA even if the light is red, people will stop and let you go. In New York you better wait for the fuckin walk sign. They will kill you. It's okay. 6 millions ways to die: choose one! Just kidding. That's some west coast shit. But I did see a whole ass mural of Snoop Dogg in Brooklyn and get slightly confused— Till I realized everything on it was the color blue, and I was deadass in the middle of Brooklyn going “What? Ohhhhh! Wait! The Crips!” “Those guys are everywhere!” Lol. Its a nation wide disorganization. Lol. Whatever. I like New York. Doing my best not to love it, So the universe doesn't balance me out by showing me what to hate about it So far, so good New York drivers don't play. I never seen a school bus drift before! DAMN. Almost got hit by a short bus. Oh, the irony. I saw a dude do a whole ass wheelie on an electric scooter. Not a moped, by the way. An electric scooter. Yup. New Yoooooork. BEDFORD AVENUE, BROOKLYN, NY. THE BAMPHERAMPHS have initiated SEQUENCE C I like New York. I gotta say. It IS like LA In the way that I know I can't live in New York if I'm not just filthy fucking rich. Cause, you know—there's still homelessness; But unlike in LA, where you just wander around, smelling like piss, begging for change— You freeze to death. A quick solution! Haha! (It's not funny.) but whatever. America. I thought I was leaving; I got trapped in the matrix. I was like “Fuck this place.” They're like: “stay! We need slaves!” I'm like FUCK. So I got stuck in New York. Ugh. At least it's a “free state” I made it north, ma! Not exactly the safest place to get stuck with no money, either, is it? Really nowhere is safe with no money. I mean, I know of some places south of the border you can live, basically free and just, you know—sleep in a hammock, sing for change and shit. Roam the beach. I know people that do that— it's just- I like showers. I don't love showers. Cause then, I'm sure God would find a way to take that away, too. I don't love anything anymore. Once you love something—it either goes away, or it burns you. Or both. Can't love things. Can't love people. No more love. Just—appreciate—things. Just—like—things, you know? Don't love anything. Speaking of suicidal tendencies. Hahah. You know what else is cool about New York? The trains actually come into the station fast enough to kill you. Like—you've had enough? Okay: here it is. Just to save you a trip to the Empire State Building. This train is coming in at 304 miles an hour and is somehow gonna stop in 3 seconds. —maybe 2 seconds, if you do jump— Better think fast! They almost come too fast, for suicide. Ready, set— Dammit. Missed it again. They're so fast. The trains in LA stopped going suicide-fast like, a couple years ago—maybe, just before the pandemic—I think. They're like “You know what! This is happening too often. I am ALWAYS late to my other two jobs ‘cause someone killed themselves on my train! Fuck!” LA's like: “Well fuck this, all the slaves are killing themselves on the trains.” “Damn, that sucks” LA's like “Yeah, okay so: here's what we do; we'll put up signs for a suicide hotline at the popular jumping points” “LA's like: okay” “And—we'll tell the train operators they gotta slow down coming into the station—“ “That'll do it!” “—that way, If they still do decide to jump, they'll just get paralyzed, and contribute to the opioid crisis: more funding for big pharma!” “Yes, it's genius!” “—unless they're black, or on Medicaid, then: we'll send em home with some ibuprofen and make sure they collect disability, so that they can become addicted to crack, or something like that —you know.” “Yes. That's perfect.” Good Job LA. I get lost in New York. I'll be on New York like “YO, WHERE THE FUCK AM I AT?” “In New York” GODDAMMIT. You know what else is weird about New York? Personal space is not a thing. I mean, “space” is not a thing at all, anyway. But “Personal space”? No. People will not only sit by you; The'll siT ON you. Yo. I had just got to New York— I had all my luggage with me— And this lady gets on the train; She's got a broom. Idk what for, but okay; She gets onto the train, She looks around, and I guess she decides she wants the seat next to me. So like I said, I have all my stuff l so I'm a little spread out, but there's room— But you know what she does? She looks me straight in the eye And then just hits me with her broom. I was like —-?!? I'm thinking, “Okay is she racist or is that just a New York thing?” Like, “you can just hit people with shit!? damn!” What's funny is, I kinda respected her for that. She was old. Didn't say a word, just “bam” Like—- ‘move!' I'm like “okay!” New York is so classy. Girls wear panty hose, and stockings. I'm like “wow, that's actually nice. That's so wholesome! Tights?! Yeah!” It's so classy. I don't think girls in LA even wear regular panties. Let alone panty hose. Get it—panty—Hoes. I see correlation. You know what else is cool about New York. It's less racist. I mean- There's so much diversity, there's almost no room to be racist. It's crazy. So many people. So many colors. So much culture. So many languages! I hear languages I can't even place. I thought I was good. I'm in LA, I'm like, “Okay, that's Chinese—“ “That's Japanese” “That's Korean” “Farsi” I get to New York— I'm in the Delicstessen. Thats another thing. Nothing like a real, New York delicatessen. That's what “deli” is short for, by the way, everyone not from New York. It's “delicatessen” Lol. Anyway. I'm standing in the Deli and I hear some shit that—I'm not gonna lie— was actually quite alarming, as a native English speaker. I'm standing there, and this guy behind me literally over my shoulder says, “Blooppnsmabhoan ammaoakb amansbaiL aannaoka snkaoakmnlblblblnlnl!!!!” I'm like what the FUCK. This isn't REAL. “Blblblana. Akakma alak Akakamaamna!” I'm shoooook. What IS that!!? I like New York. The girls aren't all evil soulless heart eating demons. They're just “regular” I have to run back to LA and tell all my guy friends, they're like “Women are evil” I'm like— “Nooo, that's just out here.” Maybe. I don't know. I like New York. I bet it's wonderful when it's warm. I don't know! Maybe that's when shit hits the fan! Maybe it's like Chicago. EVERYBODY DIES IN THE SUMMER— Who said that. Chance the Rapper, I think. I don't know. LEGENDS: FAMESCHOOL This move is called: The “Slap-Dicksuck.” [carefully taking notes] “slap-dick-suck”…okay… hmm.. Now, class. [raises hand curiously] Yes? Um. SUPACREE— —PROFESSOR SUPACREE. Um. Professor SUPACREE— Yes! Why is it called the “Slap-Dicksuck” I was about to explain that. //SLAP-DICKSUCK// NEXT: we learn THE “SLAP-DICKSUCK-SLAP” Let me guess. No, no guessing. This class is gross. I like it. Yeah, you're gross. The world is gross. Get over it. GET OVER IT, DILLON FRANCIS. *sniffes* Please, stop crying. She— *sniffles* It's okay, Dillon. She took my piñata! Your piñata set your house on fire. He sets—everything on fire— Have you ever stopped to think— —no— thinking is bad. Go get dressed. No, not today. You look like a bloated chicken nugget. —I used to like chicken nuggets. hey, Tofu daddy. This is sick. This is a sick bitch we're dealing with. I'm not dealing with anything, I quit. Quit, you can't quit. I just did. DEADMAU5 Okay, no more bodies. Ū Okay. No more bodies. DEADMAU5 Really? Ū —No. DEADMAU5 Goddammit, this is not a GAME. Ū It is a game, though—and I'm a damn good marksman. DEADMAU5 Dammit, you're right. Ū I'm always right. Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? I powered on my phone to find the digital clock exactly at 1:15, which had seemed to be creeping up again as a recurring theme, along with some other unsettling figurines—if it was a race against time, I was losing—and If, perhaps, a Holy War, I must have been some sort of Holy, as it had seemed the world's good graces had turned her back on me, and that faith dwindled more quickly in the cold than any other condition. Lay your head on my shoulder, Your cheek on my cheek, Wrap your arm round my waist, You can think what I think You can skate on thin ice You can sing what I sing And when the ice breaks; You can sink when I sink Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? It had been strange waves of everything—more than I was ready for and much more than intentionally took on, all things considered. I burned my tongue on piping hot oatmeal, trying to eat rather than write, as it seemed the time had come that I could no longer skip meals and properly function. Nearing thirty like a bullet—and at least metaphorically bleeding as if I had actually been shot, my heart and soul throbbing and gushing into a paralyzing twist or fears and woes, trapped in a foreign city with almost nothing to my name, lugging around my music equipment and very few belongings, which—when put away neatly even in the smallest room— seemed like almost nothing, but was certainly too much to carry around, especially alone. And I was, so very alone. Drake Bell and the Hollywood Spell My newest and strangest muse yet had again insisted on appearing into my dream world, for the third time, anyway—which seemed a cruel and almost disturbing subconscious attempt to conjur up what might have been the entirety of my energy to complete the 6th Season of Enter The Multiverse, at this point which had even interested me, reinvigorating my senses and at least partially restoring my faith in something, even if it was just Hollywood being Hollywood. But now, even miles away from Hollywoodland, and stranded far, far away with no conceivable way to find my way back, even if I did have a home there waiting for me—and there wasn't—there didn't seem to be a home anywhere for me at all, and with my money running well towards dry I had spent most the week dry heaving into panic attacks about where I would go, or what I would do/—especially dragging around all of my luggage and equipment, and while it was true my equipment could have easily found it's way into a pawn shop, to at least offset the impending homelessness by maybe a couple days, and a couple hundred dollars—it didn't seem quite worth it to sell my dream again, especially for the miserable existence of sharing a hostel room with whoever decided to snore or cough their way into my hellish realm of corporate slavery, lovelessness, and lack of privacy. Yes, my conciousness had summoned up this man into my dreamworld now three times, and for whatever reason, if there was one — I could consider it a charm. Had I not been working at the smokeshop what now seemed like ages ago, I might have forgotten entirely that such a person had ever existed—which I had, since the experience, for the record, at least tried to—but for some reason, disasterously couldnt; it had all awakened something serious and spiritual within my outer world, piquing my ultra conscious into a rare and bewildering curiosity that had done well to slay and murder the cat in all of its nine lives, and then some. It wasn't entirely on purpose, or without guilt that my mind seemed to inquisitively structure an entire hidden world and to form a strange and illicit bond with this fragile man creature, not that my social status or overwhelmingly average, unattractive, stranded and abandoned wastebasket of a demon, or diety whatever I was in whatever kind of light, would have much at all to do but suffer the result of having missed the bar by far, stumbling into the lower realms of the world by mere circumstance, on occasion, without notice. I was certainly thinking about it too much, and hating myself for it, a certain spark or inspiration for the Timmy Turner timelines met with the sudden flash of what may have even been a lost memory of not for all this Hollywood trauma, or dogma, whichever made sense—because none of it did, at all, besides to reverse what time had done by allowing me to forget my turbulent childhood, which couldn't matter anymore in this moment as it ever had; and though I was producing a fruitful workout at Equinox, squatting deeply into the Smith Machine and breathing deeply into my lower back, where the tension from the weight of my leftover skin met the pain in the whole of my torso, an apparent rush sent a splash of slobber out of the side of my mouth, my third eye a gaping and burning hole streaking heat across the middle of my forehead—all of a sudden the high of Nitrous Oxide filled my mind, if only for a moment—flung back into a memory nearly two decades old. “That's it.” I remembered thinking. “No more of this.” I sat down the can of keyboard cleaner on the bathroom floor. I had scared myself straight, long before I even knew what I was doing—and I didn't know at all, having been nine, or maybe 10–long before I would ever *want* to get high, not understanding that or why I needed to, anyway—or that getting “high” was what I was doing at all. No, at the time, it simply ‘felt really good', until it didn't—the particular memory which struck me in the dead center of the Equinox floor—and snapping back into my body, shaking myself out of it and leaning into the bar to stretch, taking in a deep breath and choking back an ocean of tears. “Idiot.” I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever Dreams Wil Be Dreams. Since departing LA, all my dreams had been strange, and I found myself growing more distant from myself, or from anything real at all, my dreams skewing into a horrid soundscape of rampant memories and false hopes of love. Finally able to seek refuge in meditation, I had been bombarded with images of Dillon Francis balancing some pretty little white girl in his lap—and though I couldn't quite unhinge the Amethyst from my possession, I had been giving it the distance I needed for something like peace of mind, without the actual peace itself at play. There had been quite the spell to break, and though it hadn't even been moderately broken—I at least knew now what magic I was dealing with. Dillon Hart Francis was a powerful magician—perhaps too powerful, and with that I took my strides into gatekeeping at the very least, since no peace could be made. I could love with a wholesome heart, but a tarnished mind and a gated soul would simply not outlast the infinite journey. Though I had been illicitly carfeful not to look him in the eye last we did meet, there was a remarkable force in place far beyond control—or at least my control— which kept such power from being apprehended; I had done my best to let go, knowing it was indeed a spell at play, and rather than a curse no need to worry or fear it's users intentions. Magic was a give-and-take, and so much had been at this point taken from me that the bruises of jealousy for whatever it was being waved about my psyche as ‘better than' could do no more than to rip the rest of my heart from its crevice as I pondered on what I might have done right, or might have done wrong—if there were such things. ‘White girls get all the love.' It was only true in my heart and my mind, and so it must have sat in my soul a certain way. I had never intended really to fall into what I had fallen into with Dillon Francis—not that it couldn't or wouldn't be undone, eventually, as I was inraveling myself into an unremarkable, unastonishing whisp — a fracture in time to do much less than even be though of, or forgotten. I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever A piece of my rock had shattered on the floor of the shower at Equinox—the only stone I kept for myself, and often forgotten about, as I did myself, not that i mattered much. It shattered unevenly into three pieces, one of which I left in the sauna, quickly before departing—and the other which I had dropped in Times Square, begrudgingly under the LCD American flag by which I felt betrayed: How could our nation not only allow, but create homelessness as a scare tactic to keep the working poor working as slaves, to saciate the wealthy's wants and needs? “Whatever.” I'm not going to hurt you, You can't hurt me anymore than I can hurt myself. I'm glad you know that. I don't know anything. Suicide fucking sucks. I know that. It might be time for me to go But I just want to let you know I still got love for you; And there's still hope; I left the door open I gotta go, you know, It's hopeless for some At the end of my rope —and it's a long way home, But it's home at the end It's home at the end of a long, lond road I took the wrong one, But at least now I know you I'll go on It seems that I still have a soul, somewhere I walked in on thin air, And now I'm here; I don't know where I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever LEGENDS EDDIE MURPHY opens the heavy Victorian style door, after three solid knocks from under the GLOVED HAND which lifts the golden-brass door knocker. To what do I owe the pleasure? WHOOPI GOLDBERG Business, not pleasure. -_- Well, which business. All of ‘em. [She gestures to pass through the doorway.] Please, come in. Coffee, or Tea? Coffee this late? [beat] Coffee. This is serious. You look serious. I've been—confined. Drake Bell, you son of a bitch. Oh, so you do know my name. I know all your names. So it is. So I am. — How'd you get in this? I've always been in this. What is “always”? How did you get in this? I am this. What a philosophy. Call it what you want. What if I don't. Then don't. See you on the other side. Someone once told me, the grass is much greener— on the other side. —and when I paid a visit, (It's possible I missed it) Seemed different, yet exactly the same. DILLON FRANCIS I didn't want it to end this way. I didn't want it to end. Well, it did. You let it. I had to. Just let go. No, I can't. Hah! What's so funny? You're fucking impossible. Nothing is “impossible” you said that. But you “can't” Let this go? Ah-hah. No. This here will keep slowly unwinding until there's no more. —and then what? There's no more. Damn. This is foul. Hm. Take a time out, Timmy. I'm a take a t-t-taxi I pay my t-t-taxes The actor and the actress. Oh, He's Big Hollywood; Doesn't Have a Job, But the work's real good – His lines are smooth and his days are long, Gotta make it right, For a whole lot of wrongs He's Big-Big Hollywood Doesn't have a job; But the work's real good Coming in hot, Like he's fresh out the box That's a real big nugget, With a whole lot of sauce. Stop. What. What is this. It's a song. This is awful. FUCK IT. I DON'T CARE. Damn, Oreos AND Ben & Jerry's?! IT'S DAIRY-FREE. Tf kind o f Oreos is that. They're GLuten FrEe. FUCK IT. Sunni, get a hold of yourself. YOU GET A HOLD OF YOUR SELF. Stop yelling from across the room. I'LL YELL WHERE I WANT. Fuck this job. FUCK YOU MARIANNE. AGGHH. AGGHHHHHHHHH. Fuck What. What's up. I need a smoke break. I'M GONNA RIP YOUR HEART OUT. YOU DOn'T HAVE A HEART. SHUT UP, DILLON FRANCIS. GOd. WHO INVITED HIM, ANYWAY. I didn't. NOBODY INVITED HIM. The inspiration to music hit at just the right and the wrong time—I had finally found my way to the butt machine, only after visiting every other floor and guessing incorrectly—only to make it to the machine in just enough time to realize that I was for some reason exhausted—perhaps having just blown my last fuse, realizing I was literally down to my last, few pennies— and, unknowing of how to escape the hole I had dug myself into, falling into a carful and unsecured ‘lust' with New York, surely never to fall in love with another city as I had LA, learning my lessons well, and knowing all too well that nowhere and no one like me was safe from homelessness in the US—now having proven itself to be a hostile entity, in a full police state. It didn't seem to matter, though, as I had narrowly missed my escape nearly on purpose, but not— it seemed something entirely outward was keeping me at bay and in the US, not that I had wanted to leave out of fear for my life as much as I wanted adventure and exploration—but either way was going nowhere at all fast, and running out or money even faster. “Fuck, I hate my life” I had probably over caffeinated, at least half the reason I couldn't budge to top speed, even blasting bangarang into my eardrums at nearly top volume—this day, it only emotionally weakened me, having demoted myself entirely from any sort of elite status, back into the realm of obsessive fandom, and perhaps even schizophrenia, per Dane Cook's shenanigans. Yeah, I'm tired and I need to take like ten shits. Just finish then. If I leave early I have to come back early. Well, go, then. Muscle fatigue, check Dehydration, check Psyche completely shattered Check. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

Which version of squatting is the best?  Squatting with a barbell, or, squatting on the Smith Machine?  The answer may surprise you!!!  Listen in to find out!!!

Stanger and Erin review The Smith Machine! They went to the gym and tried one of the machines Erin is intimidated by and they have thoughts!See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

In this episode of Quah (Q & A), Sal, Adam & Justin coach four Pump Heads via Zoom. Mind Pump Fit Tip: Power herbs, i.e., Rhodiola and cordyceps can increase performance and stamina. (1:40) Justin's bad example. (9:44) Moms are champions. (12:35) The important leaps with your children. (15:49) Adam's dad flex. (18:15) The myth of maintenance. (21:12) The Waffle House Index. (27:31) Another reason why you shouldn't do long-distance running. (29:35) Jimmy G approved. (32:24) The sneaky “jock tax.” (36:36) Government inefficiencies. (39:53) Schools are taking action against social media companies. (46:59) Moderation concerns on your favorite social platform. (49:54) Shout out to The Dad Father. (53:26) #ListenerLive question #1 - Can consuming cannabis affect my sleep? (54:29) #ListenerLive question #2 - Should I continue using dumbbells in my home gym or switch to using a Smith Machine at my office gym? Am I missing out? (1:08:11) #ListenerLive question #3 - How does someone maximize muscle at a certain body weight? (1:17:31) #ListenerLive question #4 - How do I help my clients properly fuel their bodies going into a day of motocross racing? (1:33:04) Related Links/Products Mentioned Ask a question to Mind Pump, live! Email: live@mindpumpmedia.com Visit Organifi for the exclusive offer for Mind Pump listeners! **Promo code MINDPUMP at checkout** March Promotion: “Time-crunch Bundle” (MAPS 15 Minutes, MAPS Anywhere, MAPS Prime + Eat for Performance eBook ALL for only $99.99!! Effects of Rhodiola rosea supplementation on mental performance, physical capacity, and oxidative stress biomarkers in healthy men Effect of extracts from Rhodiola rosea and Rhodiola crenulata (Crassulaceae) roots on ATP content in mitochondria of skeletal muscles What is the Waffle House Index? | AccuWeather Marathon Runners Poop Themselves An Extraordinary Amount. This Is Why. Jimmy Garoppolo offered 'free sex for life' by Las Vegas brothel Why athletes owe a 'jock tax' wherever they go - thehustle.co Obamacare Website Costs Exceed $2 Billion, Study Finds Why Bucks County, Pennsylvania, is suing social media companies Watch Money Shot: The Pornhub Story | Netflix Official Site The Dad Father - YouTube Visit Butcher Box for this month's exclusive Mind Pump offer! MP Holistic Health Big 5 Labs – EquiLife Mind Pump Hormones Facebook Private Forum Get yourself tested and transcend your health goals! Visit NED for an exclusive offer for Mind Pump listeners! MAPS Symmetry   Mind Pump #1782: When Machines Are Better Than Free Weights 5 Exercises For HUGE Forearms & A STRONGER Grip (FREE Big Arms Guide) Mind Pump #1895: Eight Hacks For An Insanely Strong Grip MAPS Fitness Prime Pro Mind Pump Podcast – YouTube Mind Pump Free Resources People Mentioned Jimmy Garoppolo (@jimmypolo10) Instagram Cain Velasquez (@officialcainvelasquez) Instagram Федор Емельяненко (@fedoremelianenkoofficial) Instagram Daniel "DC" Cormier (@dc_mma) Instagram Zach Bitter (@zachbitter) Instagram   

THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE LEGENDS GERALD'S WORLD OWSLA CONFIDENTIAL: THE INFINITE SKRILLIFILES ENTER THE MULTIVERSE DEATHWISH ASCENSION THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNÏ BLŪ SCARY MONSTERS & SUPACREE THE INSOMNIAC &MORE FROM [The Festival Project.™] SEASON 6 ACT III Part I MONTAGE: Clique, Cruel Summer Kanye West, JAY-Z & Big Sean EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES. BROAD ASS DAYLIGHT SUPACREE has unlocked 100% Of her ABILITIES GOD MODE UNLOCKED SUPACREE EXITS EQUINOX FITNESS CLUB AT LIGHTSPEED, Hitting the pavement with swift force, splitting into three dimensional selves; SUNNI BLŪ to her left and A MYSTERIOUS, unknown ALTER EGO to her right, she shifts quickly to the beat of the music, morphing into and out of parallels of the outer world, opening and closing portals, and encapsulating anything and everything within her force field—which happens to be the whole of GREATER LOS ANGELES. Damn. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Of a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something's off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful? The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world What have we done? This is bad, brother. That's a construct. Everything's a construct! Get ahold of yourself. Get ahold of—you know what? I do know. You think you're fuckin' clever. I am clever. You're a sick man. That's my business. Yeah, well—you made it my business. I am you. What a concept. *construct. God, help you! [sideways evil smirk] Hehe. SPAM! ON TACOS! BUTTERS Oh—Jesus! WHO PUTS SPAM ON TACOS?! A smart man. C'mon, Butters. We gotta get lost in the sauce before we try this out. I'MMA TRY IT OUT. OK. GOD, OH, GOD, PLEASE— MERCIFUL GOD IN HEAVEN— (WhT.) JUST— DON'T LET IT BE SKRILL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Fuxk. What. She took the train. Which fucking train. I don't know. The train. THE A TRAIN, or the B TRAIN?! HEY. WHAT, you motherfucking idiot? I THINK I LOVE YOU. Well, stop thinking. Ok. JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER has been kidnapped— He's like 50 years old. He's been dad-napped. —by the MOB. The MOB?! He's into some dark shit. Wait, he is?! In this series. He has been tied to a chair, which sits under a single spotlight in a shabby, dark room in NEW JERSEY. Ew, New Jersey. JIMMY THE MOBSTER Hi, Jimmy— JIMMY FALLON —uh—hello. JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON Oh, that's ironic. [beat] JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm gonna kill you, Jimmy. GOD If I give you a serious role, how are you gonna handle it? JIMMY FALLON like a pro. GOD don't lie to me, Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON What?! I'm not! My body, heart, mind, and soul was being attacked— I had 15 minutes to vacate the property and couldn't even focus—I had to use the bathroom so badly it hurt my soul. I was pacing back and forth, choking back ugly tears—the rude man in the room across the way still occupying the bathroom which I needed, both to clean and relieve myself—but it had been hell, after all, and needs like these had been proven to be in short supply. Fuck. This is a gun to your head. Just do it. [he moves the pistol into her mouth] Now it's in your mouth. [she unhinges her jaw to open it wider, never breaking eye contact and relaxes; he studies his hand on the grip of the tripper, ready to lill] You'll die today. [A comfort; as she relaxes, he as well changes—this seems to take the fun of killing away from him, he exacts the gun from her mouth] CONT'D You like that? I love it— You're dead, bitch! Yes, I am! A penniless whore. Whores get paid— Then, even less— What's less than this? A dead bitch. Think again. I don't think, I just shoot; Sounds like a man. Oh, I am. Then kill me with your hands. Jesus Christ, man. He can't help. No one can help you. So just shoot. [he can't] SUNNI. )&2&;@2@2$ YOU ARE OUT OF CONTROL. SUCK MY DICK. AGHHJJJ. Well. TMZ is here. This is a disaster. NEXT, WE LEARN: THE Oh my God. WhT. This is probably the worst thing I've ever written. Not the worst. Nope: it is the worst. Maybe it's just bad on paper. It's bad no matter how you — CONTROL, JANET PRIVACY. Here. Wtf is this. LEGENDS: FAME SCHOOL Christopher Walken was one of my professors in fame school For acting? For music. For music? That doesn't make any sense. Please, don't make me explain this. A FACE BATTLE CHRISTOPHER WALKEN vs. SUPACREE -_- —__^ *_- ^__ __/ *_* >< … —-__—- Ok. Alright. Show me what you got. SUPACREE plays a beat. You know where this is going. We all know where this is going. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN that was OK. “OK”?! Yeah. *shrugs* OK. You know what— You know what it needs? …what's it need? —-more cowbell. I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. It was perfect. It was OK. You're not OK. —maybe I'm not. You're definitely not. —know what helps? Don't tell me: More fucking cowbell. Lol. ⅔ ain't bad. Wait, two out or three?! Which one didn't I— —FUCK. What, what happened? They're onto me. THE BAMPHERAMPS, MOTHERFUCKING BAMPHERAMPHS, and THE ASCENDED MASTERY has assembled in NEW YORK CITY to stage a coup. It's a coup d'état. There sure is a lot of French shit over here. Well yeah, it's Paris. Wait. What, what now? If SUPACREE is in Paris. NIGGAZ. Right—then— Who the fuck are they chasing in New York. [just waking up] Why am I in New York? WHOOPI GOLDBERG you got anyplace else to be? …no. MEANWHILE, IN ROME. Fanculo! Really, dude. Apparently. A tear in my head; A rip in my soul, And the fabric of— Coming undone at the whole; I make sense of it all at the alter, The fall; To have fought in the war, And then lost, or to suffer at all Love was lost, I was never a martyr— Blood on the cross, And the crossroads, The frost and the stardust, “There's no God” For the honorable, Stuck in New York, But defrosting my toes, At the forefront I haven't once wondered or thought Of the love that I was, Since I stopped throwing rocks at the church Or got off on the wrong stop; What a puzzle, To jump off, Or rot in the heart of The hub— World of wonders, A mother of suns, Never wanted a daughter so much Unpunishment, Loved was the Duchess; To carry a crutch or a cross— So unbothered, untouched, So heartless and dark, For the marksman—a spark Or the dog does not bark At the horses You're in the clear, hero. Heartless, she was! Now, now—settle down. This is an absolute outrage. Is it, now? I say so! Maybe you shouldn't. Faro, a word, I've got three. I'll go first. [a smug look] What's happened here? A ressurection, sir. Care to explain? I said ‘three.' Where's the King? My palms grew numb as my throbbing heartache welled up into the back of my throat and sat perched up against my growling stomach, stuffed with beans and rice, perhaps to fill the sadness or satiate my need for protein, either one. ASCENSION If you're going to vomit, step away from me. —I'm not sick. Actually, step out of my house. This is your house? —I live here. —no one lives here. What did you think it was? an elaborate cave. It is—an elaborwte cave— —excuse my ignorance. You're excused entirely. —I appreciate that. I meant, from here. You should go. Faro, wait. No more waiting; you were uninvited. Trust me—this visitation is more necessary than voluntary. That's—a lot of words. I don't speak caveman. Just—get out. Listen: No more listening— It's about C'esme't. It always is. This is important. It always is. It concerns you. It always does. —? Wait. [a heavy sigh] [a long silence] Come with me. FARO leads GÍAN towards the back of his quarters. Close the door. I— what? Nevermind. You're useless. Ehrm—excuse me. Excused, your majesty. FARO opens a SECRET PASSAGEWAY into a FUTURISTIC CORIDOR, leading GÍAN into a vast FORTRESS. balls. Uh. My stomach in knots And my life is in ruins Constellations all gone, And my heart, on the border of hurt— And mistrust So unlovable, loveless— Promises, scars and the art was devoured Ah— she was awful; Ah—she must have lost her mind God, she was homeless, And loveless, And wild eyed All that I wanted, Was to get lost in the lobby, Before the whole ball dropped —and watch the false phropet Collide wirh the comet Stop: I lost God at the crosswalk, The punishment was Homeless Now watch this: This is what I wanted: Doesn't really matter now, Does it? Oh, doesn't it. God, this is Lucifer. Son, it's an honor. No God for a mother, who walks on her own. Now it's over or under. It's over. It never got started. I locked up my heart with the piñata. How irrelevant. How awkward. How curse words turn to mantras. How I have half a heart Or, like ⅓ We're being honest, now. I thought Illuminati wanted hotties and Caucasians. Well, I guess that'll explain, Why you've been stuck inside a cage, then. NICK CAGE is an extremely skilled time traveler. Ok. WHOOPI GOLDBERG has freed herself from the cage in which SUPACREE had skillfully trapped the OWL OF THE GOLDEN EYE. WhT a prophecy. MEANWHILE, AT HOGWARTS. HOGWARTS, 2023. ANANDAR is HEADMASTER. Ah, fuck. I'm gonna puke. All I wanted was to shamelessly watch the man's balls swing like a pendulum... Well, here's this instead. Oh no, it's Skrillex. Now you have to— —now I have to watch this. Why. Cause I've already seen that. I hate you. I hate you. SOLD, to the lady in red. Damn. Slavery is cool. Yeah, I guess. FUCK. What. Idk. BITCH. GET OUT THE BASEMENT; I'm in the attick What you think this is? Lights, camera, action: Now that attractions been well established I should get back to it, I'm in the attic Lighting up matches, Fixin my holes up with patches Callin it classic Call me an asshole, I can't be mad man, I am a mad man, I bring the mask back To Handle a trash can Get out the basement. I told you he could dance. A GIANT DRAGON Oh shit, here it comes. FIRE. DILLON FRANCIS I Well. We're gonna die. DILLON FRANCIS II If she throws up, I get a pickle. DILLON FRANCIS III That's a deal. DILLON FRANCIS II And if she cries, I get a French poodle named Angelina Jolie. DILLON FRANCIS III Righteous. DILLON FRANCIS II Yur damn right. A GIANT DRAGON FLIES OVERHEAD, SWEEPING THE SKIES WITH FIRE AND LIGHTNING. DILLON FRANCIS I (CONT'D) Yeah, we're definitely fucked. Why are you dressed like Froto. FROTO (in background, dressed exactly alike) That is offensive! SHUTTHEFUCKUP. It's the end of the world! (At least as we know it) IS THAT SKRILLEX? FIRE BREATHING DRAGON. Well, it was. What the fuck HAPPENED?! Is that its final form? Yes it is. I'll give you one million dollars. That's not enough. This card is priceless. What is this. Like a Pokémon game?! This whoops Pokémon's ass. This is LEGENDS. LIL' BIIIITZ Yo! New York is CRAZY First of all, how is it all of a sudden CLEANER THAN LA?! New York's like: here —we sent all the nasty people to LA. All better. Polarity shift! LA is gross now! New York cleaned up! The trains are nice —shit— All the trash is in BAGS. I was like “Whaaaaaaat” this is nice. What the fuck. This shit different! Unh. they exported all the nasty, crazy motherfuxkers to LA. On GOD. Cause every other psychologically twisted individual I talk to in LA is like: “I'M FROM NEW YORK” *hawks loogie, spits* Uhhhhh… I was going on a little European adventure; New York's like: “You know, you never stay long…” I'm like “There's a reason for that…welp, gotta go.” The whole universe fucked around and was like— “You know what? We like you here. Stay. “ What. “STAY.” Fuck. New York is different. Won't say I love it — But goddamn, I like it! People are rude. People are rude as fuck. I'm used to LA where people are fake nice For fuckin tips and shit, you know? Everybody's trying to get famous for something, Or something. Idk. Fake as fuck. Fake nice. Fake happy. Fake titties. Fake lips. Just fucking fake. fake everything. Everything is plastic. —and it's not tied up in garbage bags, either. It's just plastic, and trash, and piss everywhere. It's so gross. You see Venice Beach on the movies: It's all clean and beautiful, and picturesque. You get there, it's like Skid Row + Skid Row Coastal. LA has millions of homeless people everywhere. In cars, in tents. Under bridges. Everywhere. And I love LA! I really do. But it's fake. Everything is fake. New York is real as fuck. Yeaaah. Almost too real. But I like it. You don't have to fuckin fake shit. People don't say “excuse me—“ No. You're never forced to say “good morning “ before you had your coffee! Yuh! New York is doing it right. People sleep on the train— But nobody lives on that motherfucker! I was in New York like a week before the shock wore off that there were not hundreds of individuals on every train wreaking of piss and smoking crack openly—YES—illicit drug use on trains in LA is extremely casual. Everything in LA is casual. People wear pajamas to work. Yeah—that. Everyone in New York looks like they're going to eat at a five-star restaurant. Like all the time. No socks-with-slides. EW. I swore to God socks with slides was a sign of the apocalypse; I get to New York, none of that—but the cringy thing in New York is Crocs With Socs. Now mmmm we're bi-coastal. Socks-with-slides; Crocs-with-socks. Knock that shit off. TACKY. other than that, though… NY is cool. It's chic. It's fun. You gotta be careful though. You gotta watch out. I thought LA drivers were crazy. New York drivers are fucking psychotic. Pedestrians don't have the right of way. At all. If you're in a crosswalk in LA even if the light is red, people will stop and let you go. In New York you better wait for the fuckin walk sign. They will kill you. It's okay. 6 millions ways to die: choose one! Just kidding. That's some west coast shit. But I did see a whole ass mural of Snoop Dogg in Brooklyn and get slightly confused— Till I realized everything on it was the color blue, and I was deadass in the middle of Brooklyn going “What? Ohhhhh! Wait! The Crips!” “Those guys are everywhere!” Lol. Its a nation wide disorganization. Lol. Whatever. I like New York. Doing my best not to love it, So the universe doesn't balance me out by showing me what to hate about it So far, so good New York drivers don't play. I never seen a school bus drift before! DAMN. Almost got hit by a short bus. Oh, the irony. I saw a dude do a whole ass wheelie on an electric scooter. Not a moped, by the way. An electric scooter. Yup. New Yoooooork. BEDFORD AVENUE, BROOKLYN, NY. THE BAMPHERAMPHS have initiated SEQUENCE C I like New York. I gotta say. It IS like LA In the way that I know I can't live in New York if I'm not just filthy fucking rich. Cause, you know—there's still homelessness; But unlike in LA, where you just wander around, smelling like piss, begging for change— You freeze to death. A quick solution! Haha! (It's not funny.) but whatever. America. I thought I was leaving; I got trapped in the matrix. I was like “Fuck this place.” They're like: “stay! We need slaves!” I'm like FUCK. So I got stuck in New York. Ugh. At least it's a “free state” I made it north, ma! Not exactly the safest place to get stuck with no money, either, is it? Really nowhere is safe with no money. I mean, I know of some places south of the border you can live, basically free and just, you know—sleep in a hammock, sing for change and shit. Roam the beach. I know people that do that— it's just- I like showers. I don't love showers. Cause then, I'm sure God would find a way to take that away, too. I don't love anything anymore. Once you love something—it either goes away, or it burns you. Or both. Can't love things. Can't love people. No more love. Just—appreciate—things. Just—like—things, you know? Don't love anything. Speaking of suicidal tendencies. Hahah. You know what else is cool about New York? The trains actually come into the station fast enough to kill you. Like—you've had enough? Okay: here it is. Just to save you a trip to the Empire State Building. This train is coming in at 304 miles an hour and is somehow gonna stop in 3 seconds. —maybe 2 seconds, if you do jump— Better think fast! They almost come too fast, for suicide. Ready, set— Dammit. Missed it again. They're so fast. The trains in LA stopped going suicide-fast like, a couple years ago—maybe, just before the pandemic—I think. They're like “You know what! This is happening too often. I am ALWAYS late to my other two jobs ‘cause someone killed themselves on my train! Fuck!” LA's like: “Well fuck this, all the slaves are killing themselves on the trains.” “Damn, that sucks” LA's like “Yeah, okay so: here's what we do; we'll put up signs for a suicide hotline at the popular jumping points” “LA's like: okay” “And—we'll tell the train operators they gotta slow down coming into the station—“ “That'll do it!” “—that way, If they still do decide to jump, they'll just get paralyzed, and contribute to the opioid crisis: more funding for big pharma!” “Yes, it's genius!” “—unless they're black, or on Medicaid, then: we'll send em home with some ibuprofen and make sure they collect disability, so that they can become addicted to crack, or something like that —you know.” “Yes. That's perfect.” Good Job LA. I get lost in New York. I'll be on New York like “YO, WHERE THE FUCK AM I AT?” “In New York” GODDAMMIT. You know what else is weird about New York? Personal space is not a thing. I mean, “space” is not a thing at all, anyway. But “Personal space”? No. People will not only sit by you; The'll siT ON you. Yo. I had just got to New York— I had all my luggage with me— And this lady gets on the train; She's got a broom. Idk what for, but okay; She gets onto the train, She looks around, and I guess she decides she wants the seat next to me. So like I said, I have all my stuff l so I'm a little spread out, but there's room— But you know what she does? She looks me straight in the eye And then just hits me with her broom. I was like —-?!? I'm thinking, “Okay is she racist or is that just a New York thing?” Like, “you can just hit people with shit!? damn!” What's funny is, I kinda respected her for that. She was old. Didn't say a word, just “bam” Like—- ‘move!' I'm like “okay!” New York is so classy. Girls wear panty hose, and stockings. I'm like “wow, that's actually nice. That's so wholesome! Tights?! Yeah!” It's so classy. I don't think girls in LA even wear regular panties. Let alone panty hose. Get it—panty—Hoes. I see correlation. You know what else is cool about New York. It's less racist. I mean- There's so much diversity, there's almost no room to be racist. It's crazy. So many people. So many colors. So much culture. So many languages! I hear languages I can't even place. I thought I was good. I'm in LA, I'm like, “Okay, that's Chinese—“ “That's Japanese” “That's Korean” “Farsi” I get to New York— I'm in the Delicstessen. Thats another thing. Nothing like a real, New York delicatessen. That's what “deli” is short for, by the way, everyone not from New York. It's “delicatessen” Lol. Anyway. I'm standing in the Deli and I hear some shit that—I'm not gonna lie— was actually quite alarming, as a native English speaker. I'm standing there, and this guy behind me literally over my shoulder says, “Blooppnsmabhoan ammaoakb amansbaiL aannaoka snkaoakmnlblblblnlnl!!!!” I'm like what the FUCK. This isn't REAL. “Blblblana. Akakma alak Akakamaamna!” I'm shoooook. What IS that!!? I like New York. The girls aren't all evil soulless heart eating demons. They're just “regular” I have to run back to LA and tell all my guy friends, they're like “Women are evil” I'm like— “Nooo, that's just out here.” Maybe. I don't know. I like New York. I bet it's wonderful when it's warm. I don't know! Maybe that's when shit hits the fan! Maybe it's like Chicago. EVERYBODY DIES IN THE SUMMER— Who said that. Chance the Rapper, I think. I don't know. LEGENDS: FAMESCHOOL This move is called: The “Slap-Dicksuck.” [carefully taking notes] “slap-dick-suck”…okay… hmm.. Now, class. [raises hand curiously] Yes? Um. SUPACREE— —PROFESSOR SUPACREE. Um. Professor SUPACREE— Yes! Why is it called the “Slap-Dicksuck” I was about to explain that. //SLAP-DICKSUCK// NEXT: we learn THE “SLAP-DICKSUCK-SLAP” Let me guess. No, no guessing. This class is gross. I like it. Yeah, you're gross. The world is gross. Get over it. GET OVER IT, DILLON FRANCIS. *sniffes* Please, stop crying. She— *sniffles* It's okay, Dillon. She took my piñata! Your piñata set your house on fire. He sets—everything on fire— Have you ever stopped to think— —no— thinking is bad. Go get dressed. No, not today. You look like a bloated chicken nugget. —I used to like chicken nuggets. hey, Tofu daddy. This is sick. This is a sick bitch we're dealing with. I'm not dealing with anything, I quit. Quit, you can't quit. I just did. DEADMAU5 Okay, no more bodies. Ū Okay. No more bodies. DEADMAU5 Really? Ū —No. DEADMAU5 Goddammit, this is not a GAME. Ū It is a game, though—and I'm a damn good marksman. DEADMAU5 Dammit, you're right. Ū I'm always right. Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? I powered on my phone to find the digital clock exactly at 1:15, which had seemed to be creeping up again as a recurring theme, along with some other unsettling figurines—if it was a race against time, I was losing—and If, perhaps, a Holy War, I must have been some sort of Holy, as it had seemed the world's good graces had turned her back on me, and that faith dwindled more quickly in the cold than any other condition. Lay your head on my shoulder, Your cheek on my cheek, Wrap your arm round my waist, You can think what I think You can skate on thin ice You can sing what I sing And when the ice breaks; You can sink when I sink Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? It had been strange waves of everything—more than I was ready for and much more than intentionally took on, all things considered. I burned my tongue on piping hot oatmeal, trying to eat rather than write, as it seemed the time had come that I could no longer skip meals and properly function. Nearing thirty like a bullet—and at least metaphorically bleeding as if I had actually been shot, my heart and soul throbbing and gushing into a paralyzing twist or fears and woes, trapped in a foreign city with almost nothing to my name, lugging around my music equipment and very few belongings, which—when put away neatly even in the smallest room— seemed like almost nothing, but was certainly too much to carry around, especially alone. And I was, so very alone. Drake Bell and the Hollywood Spell My newest and strangest muse yet had again insisted on appearing into my dream world, for the third time, anyway—which seemed a cruel and almost disturbing subconscious attempt to conjur up what might have been the entirety of my energy to complete the 6th Season of Enter The Multiverse, at this point which had even interested me, reinvigorating my senses and at least partially restoring my faith in something, even if it was just Hollywood being Hollywood. But now, even miles away from Hollywoodland, and stranded far, far away with no conceivable way to find my way back, even if I did have a home there waiting for me—and there wasn't—there didn't seem to be a home anywhere for me at all, and with my money running well towards dry I had spent most the week dry heaving into panic attacks about where I would go, or what I would do/—especially dragging around all of my luggage and equipment, and while it was true my equipment could have easily found it's way into a pawn shop, to at least offset the impending homelessness by maybe a couple days, and a couple hundred dollars—it didn't seem quite worth it to sell my dream again, especially for the miserable existence of sharing a hostel room with whoever decided to snore or cough their way into my hellish realm of corporate slavery, lovelessness, and lack of privacy. Yes, my conciousness had summoned up this man into my dreamworld now three times, and for whatever reason, if there was one — I could consider it a charm. Had I not been working at the smokeshop what now seemed like ages ago, I might have forgotten entirely that such a person had ever existed—which I had, since the experience, for the record, at least tried to—but for some reason, disasterously couldnt; it had all awakened something serious and spiritual within my outer world, piquing my ultra conscious into a rare and bewildering curiosity that had done well to slay and murder the cat in all of its nine lives, and then some. It wasn't entirely on purpose, or without guilt that my mind seemed to inquisitively structure an entire hidden world and to form a strange and illicit bond with this fragile man creature, not that my social status or overwhelmingly average, unattractive, stranded and abandoned wastebasket of a demon, or diety whatever I was in whatever kind of light, would have much at all to do but suffer the result of having missed the bar by far, stumbling into the lower realms of the world by mere circumstance, on occasion, without notice. I was certainly thinking about it too much, and hating myself for it, a certain spark or inspiration for the Timmy Turner timelines met with the sudden flash of what may have even been a lost memory of not for all this Hollywood trauma, or dogma, whichever made sense—because none of it did, at all, besides to reverse what time had done by allowing me to forget my turbulent childhood, which couldn't matter anymore in this moment as it ever had; and though I was producing a fruitful workout at Equinox, squatting deeply into the Smith Machine and breathing deeply into my lower back, where the tension from the weight of my leftover skin met the pain in the whole of my torso, an apparent rush sent a splash of slobber out of the side of my mouth, my third eye a gaping and burning hole streaking heat across the middle of my forehead—all of a sudden the high of Nitrous Oxide filled my mind, if only for a moment—flung back into a memory nearly two decades old. “That's it.” I remembered thinking. “No more of this.” I sat down the can of keyboard cleaner on the bathroom floor. I had scared myself straight, long before I even knew what I was doing—and I didn't know at all, having been nine, or maybe 10–long before I would ever *want* to get high, not understanding that or why I needed to, anyway—or that getting “high” was what I was doing at all. No, at the time, it simply ‘felt really good', until it didn't—the particular memory which struck me in the dead center of the Equinox floor—and snapping back into my body, shaking myself out of it and leaning into the bar to stretch, taking in a deep breath and choking back an ocean of tears. “Idiot.” I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever Dreams Wil Be Dreams. Since departing LA, all my dreams had been strange, and I found myself growing more distant from myself, or from anything real at all, my dreams skewing into a horrid soundscape of rampant memories and false hopes of love. Finally able to seek refuge in meditation, I had been bombarded with images of Dillon Francis balancing some pretty little white girl in his lap—and though I couldn't quite unhinge the Amethyst from my possession, I had been giving it the distance I needed for something like peace of mind, without the actual peace itself at play. There had been quite the spell to break, and though it hadn't even been moderately broken—I at least knew now what magic I was dealing with. Dillon Hart Francis was a powerful magician—perhaps too powerful, and with that I took my strides into gatekeeping at the very least, since no peace could be made. I could love with a wholesome heart, but a tarnished mind and a gated soul would simply not outlast the infinite journey. Though I had been illicitly carfeful not to look him in the eye last we did meet, there was a remarkable force in place far beyond control—or at least my control— which kept such power from being apprehended; I had done my best to let go, knowing it was indeed a spell at play, and rather than a curse no need to worry or fear it's users intentions. Magic was a give-and-take, and so much had been at this point taken from me that the bruises of jealousy for whatever it was being waved about my psyche as ‘better than' could do no more than to rip the rest of my heart from its crevice as I pondered on what I might have done right, or might have done wrong—if there were such things. ‘White girls get all the love.' It was only true in my heart and my mind, and so it must have sat in my soul a certain way. I had never intended really to fall into what I had fallen into with Dillon Francis—not that it couldn't or wouldn't be undone, eventually, as I was inraveling myself into an unremarkable, unastonishing whisp — a fracture in time to do much less than even be though of, or forgotten. I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever A piece of my rock had shattered on the floor of the shower at Equinox—the only stone I kept for myself, and often forgotten about, as I did myself, not that i mattered much. It shattered unevenly into three pieces, one of which I left in the sauna, quickly before departing—and the other which I had dropped in Times Square, begrudgingly under the LCD American flag by which I felt betrayed: How could our nation not only allow, but create homelessness as a scare tactic to keep the working poor working as slaves, to saciate the wealthy's wants and needs? “Whatever.” I'm not going to hurt you, You can't hurt me anymore than I can hurt myself. I'm glad you know that. I don't know anything. Suicide fucking sucks. I know that. It might be time for me to go But I just want to let you know I still got love for you; And there's still hope; I left the door open I gotta go, you know, It's hopeless for some At the end of my rope —and it's a long way home, But it's home at the end It's home at the end of a long, lond road I took the wrong one, But at least now I know you I'll go on It seems that I still have a soul, somewhere I walked in on thin air, And now I'm here; I don't know where I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever LEGENDS EDDIE MURPHY opens the heavy Victorian style door, after three solid knocks from under the GLOVED HAND which lifts the golden-brass door knocker. To what do I owe the pleasure? WHOOPI GOLDBERG Business, not pleasure. -_- Well, which business. All of ‘em. [She gestures to pass through the doorway.] Please, come in. Coffee, or Tea? Coffee this late? [beat] Coffee. This is serious. You look serious. I've been—confined. Drake Bell, you son of a bitch. Oh, so you do know my name. I know all your names. So it is. So I am. — How'd you get in this? I've always been in this. What is “always”? How did you get in this? I am this. What a philosophy. Call it what you want. What if I don't. Then don't. See you on the other side. Someone once told me, the grass is much greener— on the other side. —and when I paid a visit, (It's possible I missed it) Seemed different, yet exactly the same. DILLON FRANCIS I didn't want it to end this way. I didn't want it to end. Well, it did. You let it. I had to. Just let go. No, I can't. Hah! What's so funny? You're fucking impossible. Nothing is “impossible” you said that. But you “can't” Let this go? Ah-hah. No. This here will keep slowly unwinding until there's no more. —and then what? There's no more. Damn. This is foul. Hm. Take a time out, Timmy. I'm a take a t-t-taxi I pay my t-t-taxes The actor and the actress. Oh, He's Big Hollywood; Doesn't Have a Job, But the work's real good – His lines are smooth and his days are long, Gotta make it right, For a whole lot of wrongs He's Big-Big Hollywood Doesn't have a job; But the work's real good Coming in hot, Like he's fresh out the box That's a real big nugget, With a whole lot of sauce. Stop. What. What is this. It's a song. This is awful. FUCK IT. I DON'T CARE. Damn, Oreos AND Ben & Jerry's?! IT'S DAIRY-FREE. Tf kind o f Oreos is that. They're GLuten FrEe. FUCK IT. Sunni, get a hold of yourself. YOU GET A HOLD OF YOUR SELF. Stop yelling from across the room. I'LL YELL WHERE I WANT. Fuck this job. FUCK YOU MARIANNE. AGGHH. AGGHHHHHHHHH. Fuck What. What's up. I need a smoke break. I'M GONNA RIP YOUR HEART OUT. YOU DOn'T HAVE A HEART. SHUT UP, DILLON FRANCIS. GOd. WHO INVITED HIM, ANYWAY. I didn't. NOBODY INVITED HIM. The inspiration to music hit at just the right and the wrong time—I had finally found my way to the butt machine, only after visiting every other floor and guessing incorrectly—only to make it to the machine in just enough time to realize that I was for some reason exhausted—perhaps having just blown my last fuse, realizing I was literally down to my last, few pennies— and, unknowing of how to escape the hole I had dug myself into, falling into a carful and unsecured ‘lust' with New York, surely never to fall in love with another city as I had LA, learning my lessons well, and knowing all too well that nowhere and no one like me was safe from homelessness in the US—now having proven itself to be a hostile entity, in a full police state. It didn't seem to matter, though, as I had narrowly missed my escape nearly on purpose, but not— it seemed something entirely outward was keeping me at bay and in the US, not that I had wanted to leave out of fear for my life as much as I wanted adventure and exploration—but either way was going nowhere at all fast, and running out or money even faster. “Fuck, I hate my life” I had probably over caffeinated, at least half the reason I couldn't budge to top speed, even blasting bangarang into my eardrums at nearly top volume—this day, it only emotionally weakened me, having demoted myself entirely from any sort of elite status, back into the realm of obsessive fandom, and perhaps even schizophrenia, per Dane Cook's shenanigans. Yeah, I'm tired and I need to take like ten shits. Just finish then. If I leave early I have to come back early. Well, go, then. Muscle fatigue, check Dehydration, check Psyche completely shattered Check. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE LEGENDS GERALD'S WORLD OWSLA CONFIDENTIAL: THE INFINITE SKRILLIFILES ENTER THE MULTIVERSE DEATHWISH ASCENSION THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNÏ BLŪ SCARY MONSTERS & SUPACREE THE INSOMNIAC &MORE FROM [The Festival Project.™] SEASON 6 ACT III Part I MONTAGE: Clique, Cruel Summer Kanye West, JAY-Z & Big Sean EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES. BROAD ASS DAYLIGHT SUPACREE has unlocked 100% Of her ABILITIES GOD MODE UNLOCKED SUPACREE EXITS EQUINOX FITNESS CLUB AT LIGHTSPEED, Hitting the pavement with swift force, splitting into three dimensional selves; SUNNI BLŪ to her left and A MYSTERIOUS, unknown ALTER EGO to her right, she shifts quickly to the beat of the music, morphing into and out of parallels of the outer world, opening and closing portals, and encapsulating anything and everything within her force field—which happens to be the whole of GREATER LOS ANGELES. Damn. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Of a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something's off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful? The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world What have we done? This is bad, brother. That's a construct. Everything's a construct! Get ahold of yourself. Get ahold of—you know what? I do know. You think you're fuckin' clever. I am clever. You're a sick man. That's my business. Yeah, well—you made it my business. I am you. What a concept. *construct. God, help you! [sideways evil smirk] Hehe. SPAM! ON TACOS! BUTTERS Oh—Jesus! WHO PUTS SPAM ON TACOS?! A smart man. C'mon, Butters. We gotta get lost in the sauce before we try this out. I'MMA TRY IT OUT. OK. GOD, OH, GOD, PLEASE— MERCIFUL GOD IN HEAVEN— (WhT.) JUST— DON'T LET IT BE SKRILL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Fuxk. What. She took the train. Which fucking train. I don't know. The train. THE A TRAIN, or the B TRAIN?! HEY. WHAT, you motherfucking idiot? I THINK I LOVE YOU. Well, stop thinking. Ok. JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER has been kidnapped— He's like 50 years old. He's been dad-napped. —by the MOB. The MOB?! He's into some dark shit. Wait, he is?! In this series. He has been tied to a chair, which sits under a single spotlight in a shabby, dark room in NEW JERSEY. Ew, New Jersey. JIMMY THE MOBSTER Hi, Jimmy— JIMMY FALLON —uh—hello. JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON Oh, that's ironic. [beat] JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm gonna kill you, Jimmy. GOD If I give you a serious role, how are you gonna handle it? JIMMY FALLON like a pro. GOD don't lie to me, Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON What?! I'm not! My body, heart, mind, and soul was being attacked— I had 15 minutes to vacate the property and couldn't even focus—I had to use the bathroom so badly it hurt my soul. I was pacing back and forth, choking back ugly tears—the rude man in the room across the way still occupying the bathroom which I needed, both to clean and relieve myself—but it had been hell, after all, and needs like these had been proven to be in short supply. Fuck. This is a gun to your head. Just do it. [he moves the pistol into her mouth] Now it's in your mouth. [she unhinges her jaw to open it wider, never breaking eye contact and relaxes; he studies his hand on the grip of the tripper, ready to lill] You'll die today. [A comfort; as she relaxes, he as well changes—this seems to take the fun of killing away from him, he exacts the gun from her mouth] CONT'D You like that? I love it— You're dead, bitch! Yes, I am! A penniless whore. Whores get paid— Then, even less— What's less than this? A dead bitch. Think again. I don't think, I just shoot; Sounds like a man. Oh, I am. Then kill me with your hands. Jesus Christ, man. He can't help. No one can help you. So just shoot. [he can't] SUNNI. )&2&;@2@2$ YOU ARE OUT OF CONTROL. SUCK MY DICK. AGHHJJJ. Well. TMZ is here. This is a disaster. NEXT, WE LEARN: THE Oh my God. WhT. This is probably the worst thing I've ever written. Not the worst. Nope: it is the worst. Maybe it's just bad on paper. It's bad no matter how you — CONTROL, JANET PRIVACY. Here. Wtf is this. LEGENDS: FAME SCHOOL Christopher Walken was one of my professors in fame school For acting? For music. For music? That doesn't make any sense. Please, don't make me explain this. A FACE BATTLE CHRISTOPHER WALKEN vs. SUPACREE -_- —__^ *_- ^__ __/ *_* >< … —-__—- Ok. Alright. Show me what you got. SUPACREE plays a beat. You know where this is going. We all know where this is going. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN that was OK. “OK”?! Yeah. *shrugs* OK. You know what— You know what it needs? …what's it need? —-more cowbell. I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. It was perfect. It was OK. You're not OK. —maybe I'm not. You're definitely not. —know what helps? Don't tell me: More fucking cowbell. Lol. ⅔ ain't bad. Wait, two out or three?! Which one didn't I— —FUCK. What, what happened? They're onto me. THE BAMPHERAMPS, MOTHERFUCKING BAMPHERAMPHS, and THE ASCENDED MASTERY has assembled in NEW YORK CITY to stage a coup. It's a coup d'état. There sure is a lot of French shit over here. Well yeah, it's Paris. Wait. What, what now? If SUPACREE is in Paris. NIGGAZ. Right—then— Who the fuck are they chasing in New York. [just waking up] Why am I in New York? WHOOPI GOLDBERG you got anyplace else to be? …no. MEANWHILE, IN ROME. Fanculo! Really, dude. Apparently. A tear in my head; A rip in my soul, And the fabric of— Coming undone at the whole; I make sense of it all at the alter, The fall; To have fought in the war, And then lost, or to suffer at all Love was lost, I was never a martyr— Blood on the cross, And the crossroads, The frost and the stardust, “There's no God” For the honorable, Stuck in New York, But defrosting my toes, At the forefront I haven't once wondered or thought Of the love that I was, Since I stopped throwing rocks at the church Or got off on the wrong stop; What a puzzle, To jump off, Or rot in the heart of The hub— World of wonders, A mother of suns, Never wanted a daughter so much Unpunishment, Loved was the Duchess; To carry a crutch or a cross— So unbothered, untouched, So heartless and dark, For the marksman—a spark Or the dog does not bark At the horses You're in the clear, hero. Heartless, she was! Now, now—settle down. This is an absolute outrage. Is it, now? I say so! Maybe you shouldn't. Faro, a word, I've got three. I'll go first. [a smug look] What's happened here? A ressurection, sir. Care to explain? I said ‘three.' Where's the King? My palms grew numb as my throbbing heartache welled up into the back of my throat and sat perched up against my growling stomach, stuffed with beans and rice, perhaps to fill the sadness or satiate my need for protein, either one. ASCENSION If you're going to vomit, step away from me. —I'm not sick. Actually, step out of my house. This is your house? —I live here. —no one lives here. What did you think it was? an elaborate cave. It is—an elaborwte cave— —excuse my ignorance. You're excused entirely. —I appreciate that. I meant, from here. You should go. Faro, wait. No more waiting; you were uninvited. Trust me—this visitation is more necessary than voluntary. That's—a lot of words. I don't speak caveman. Just—get out. Listen: No more listening— It's about C'esme't. It always is. This is important. It always is. It concerns you. It always does. —? Wait. [a heavy sigh] [a long silence] Come with me. FARO leads GÍAN towards the back of his quarters. Close the door. I— what? Nevermind. You're useless. Ehrm—excuse me. Excused, your majesty. FARO opens a SECRET PASSAGEWAY into a FUTURISTIC CORIDOR, leading GÍAN into a vast FORTRESS. balls. Uh. My stomach in knots And my life is in ruins Constellations all gone, And my heart, on the border of hurt— And mistrust So unlovable, loveless— Promises, scars and the art was devoured Ah— she was awful; Ah—she must have lost her mind God, she was homeless, And loveless, And wild eyed All that I wanted, Was to get lost in the lobby, Before the whole ball dropped —and watch the false phropet Collide wirh the comet Stop: I lost God at the crosswalk, The punishment was Homeless Now watch this: This is what I wanted: Doesn't really matter now, Does it? Oh, doesn't it. God, this is Lucifer. Son, it's an honor. No God for a mother, who walks on her own. Now it's over or under. It's over. It never got started. I locked up my heart with the piñata. How irrelevant. How awkward. How curse words turn to mantras. How I have half a heart Or, like ⅓ We're being honest, now. I thought Illuminati wanted hotties and Caucasians. Well, I guess that'll explain, Why you've been stuck inside a cage, then. NICK CAGE is an extremely skilled time traveler. Ok. WHOOPI GOLDBERG has freed herself from the cage in which SUPACREE had skillfully trapped the OWL OF THE GOLDEN EYE. WhT a prophecy. MEANWHILE, AT HOGWARTS. HOGWARTS, 2023. ANANDAR is HEADMASTER. Ah, fuck. I'm gonna puke. All I wanted was to shamelessly watch the man's balls swing like a pendulum... Well, here's this instead. Oh no, it's Skrillex. Now you have to— —now I have to watch this. Why. Cause I've already seen that. I hate you. I hate you. SOLD, to the lady in red. Damn. Slavery is cool. Yeah, I guess. FUCK. What. Idk. BITCH. GET OUT THE BASEMENT; I'm in the attick What you think this is? Lights, camera, action: Now that attractions been well established I should get back to it, I'm in the attic Lighting up matches, Fixin my holes up with patches Callin it classic Call me an asshole, I can't be mad man, I am a mad man, I bring the mask back To Handle a trash can Get out the basement. I told you he could dance. A GIANT DRAGON Oh shit, here it comes. FIRE. DILLON FRANCIS I Well. We're gonna die. DILLON FRANCIS II If she throws up, I get a pickle. DILLON FRANCIS III That's a deal. DILLON FRANCIS II And if she cries, I get a French poodle named Angelina Jolie. DILLON FRANCIS III Righteous. DILLON FRANCIS II Yur damn right. A GIANT DRAGON FLIES OVERHEAD, SWEEPING THE SKIES WITH FIRE AND LIGHTNING. DILLON FRANCIS I (CONT'D) Yeah, we're definitely fucked. Why are you dressed like Froto. FROTO (in background, dressed exactly alike) That is offensive! SHUTTHEFUCKUP. It's the end of the world! (At least as we know it) IS THAT SKRILLEX? FIRE BREATHING DRAGON. Well, it was. What the fuck HAPPENED?! Is that its final form? Yes it is. I'll give you one million dollars. That's not enough. This card is priceless. What is this. Like a Pokémon game?! This whoops Pokémon's ass. This is LEGENDS. LIL' BIIIITZ Yo! New York is CRAZY First of all, how is it all of a sudden CLEANER THAN LA?! New York's like: here —we sent all the nasty people to LA. All better. Polarity shift! LA is gross now! New York cleaned up! The trains are nice —shit— All the trash is in BAGS. I was like “Whaaaaaaat” this is nice. What the fuck. This shit different! Unh. they exported all the nasty, crazy motherfuxkers to LA. On GOD. Cause every other psychologically twisted individual I talk to in LA is like: “I'M FROM NEW YORK” *hawks loogie, spits* Uhhhhh… I was going on a little European adventure; New York's like: “You know, you never stay long…” I'm like “There's a reason for that…welp, gotta go.” The whole universe fucked around and was like— “You know what? We like you here. Stay. “ What. “STAY.” Fuck. New York is different. Won't say I love it — But goddamn, I like it! People are rude. People are rude as fuck. I'm used to LA where people are fake nice For fuckin tips and shit, you know? Everybody's trying to get famous for something, Or something. Idk. Fake as fuck. Fake nice. Fake happy. Fake titties. Fake lips. Just fucking fake. fake everything. Everything is plastic. —and it's not tied up in garbage bags, either. It's just plastic, and trash, and piss everywhere. It's so gross. You see Venice Beach on the movies: It's all clean and beautiful, and picturesque. You get there, it's like Skid Row + Skid Row Coastal. LA has millions of homeless people everywhere. In cars, in tents. Under bridges. Everywhere. And I love LA! I really do. But it's fake. Everything is fake. New York is real as fuck. Yeaaah. Almost too real. But I like it. You don't have to fuckin fake shit. People don't say “excuse me—“ No. You're never forced to say “good morning “ before you had your coffee! Yuh! New York is doing it right. People sleep on the train— But nobody lives on that motherfucker! I was in New York like a week before the shock wore off that there were not hundreds of individuals on every train wreaking of piss and smoking crack openly—YES—illicit drug use on trains in LA is extremely casual. Everything in LA is casual. People wear pajamas to work. Yeah—that. Everyone in New York looks like they're going to eat at a five-star restaurant. Like all the time. No socks-with-slides. EW. I swore to God socks with slides was a sign of the apocalypse; I get to New York, none of that—but the cringy thing in New York is Crocs With Socs. Now mmmm we're bi-coastal. Socks-with-slides; Crocs-with-socks. Knock that shit off. TACKY. other than that, though… NY is cool. It's chic. It's fun. You gotta be careful though. You gotta watch out. I thought LA drivers were crazy. New York drivers are fucking psychotic. Pedestrians don't have the right of way. At all. If you're in a crosswalk in LA even if the light is red, people will stop and let you go. In New York you better wait for the fuckin walk sign. They will kill you. It's okay. 6 millions ways to die: choose one! Just kidding. That's some west coast shit. But I did see a whole ass mural of Snoop Dogg in Brooklyn and get slightly confused— Till I realized everything on it was the color blue, and I was deadass in the middle of Brooklyn going “What? Ohhhhh! Wait! The Crips!” “Those guys are everywhere!” Lol. Its a nation wide disorganization. Lol. Whatever. I like New York. Doing my best not to love it, So the universe doesn't balance me out by showing me what to hate about it So far, so good New York drivers don't play. I never seen a school bus drift before! DAMN. Almost got hit by a short bus. Oh, the irony. I saw a dude do a whole ass wheelie on an electric scooter. Not a moped, by the way. An electric scooter. Yup. New Yoooooork. BEDFORD AVENUE, BROOKLYN, NY. THE BAMPHERAMPHS have initiated SEQUENCE C I like New York. I gotta say. It IS like LA In the way that I know I can't live in New York if I'm not just filthy fucking rich. Cause, you know—there's still homelessness; But unlike in LA, where you just wander around, smelling like piss, begging for change— You freeze to death. A quick solution! Haha! (It's not funny.) but whatever. America. I thought I was leaving; I got trapped in the matrix. I was like “Fuck this place.” They're like: “stay! We need slaves!” I'm like FUCK. So I got stuck in New York. Ugh. At least it's a “free state” I made it north, ma! Not exactly the safest place to get stuck with no money, either, is it? Really nowhere is safe with no money. I mean, I know of some places south of the border you can live, basically free and just, you know—sleep in a hammock, sing for change and shit. Roam the beach. I know people that do that— it's just- I like showers. I don't love showers. Cause then, I'm sure God would find a way to take that away, too. I don't love anything anymore. Once you love something—it either goes away, or it burns you. Or both. Can't love things. Can't love people. No more love. Just—appreciate—things. Just—like—things, you know? Don't love anything. Speaking of suicidal tendencies. Hahah. You know what else is cool about New York? The trains actually come into the station fast enough to kill you. Like—you've had enough? Okay: here it is. Just to save you a trip to the Empire State Building. This train is coming in at 304 miles an hour and is somehow gonna stop in 3 seconds. —maybe 2 seconds, if you do jump— Better think fast! They almost come too fast, for suicide. Ready, set— Dammit. Missed it again. They're so fast. The trains in LA stopped going suicide-fast like, a couple years ago—maybe, just before the pandemic—I think. They're like “You know what! This is happening too often. I am ALWAYS late to my other two jobs ‘cause someone killed themselves on my train! Fuck!” LA's like: “Well fuck this, all the slaves are killing themselves on the trains.” “Damn, that sucks” LA's like “Yeah, okay so: here's what we do; we'll put up signs for a suicide hotline at the popular jumping points” “LA's like: okay” “And—we'll tell the train operators they gotta slow down coming into the station—“ “That'll do it!” “—that way, If they still do decide to jump, they'll just get paralyzed, and contribute to the opioid crisis: more funding for big pharma!” “Yes, it's genius!” “—unless they're black, or on Medicaid, then: we'll send em home with some ibuprofen and make sure they collect disability, so that they can become addicted to crack, or something like that —you know.” “Yes. That's perfect.” Good Job LA. I get lost in New York. I'll be on New York like “YO, WHERE THE FUCK AM I AT?” “In New York” GODDAMMIT. You know what else is weird about New York? Personal space is not a thing. I mean, “space” is not a thing at all, anyway. But “Personal space”? No. People will not only sit by you; The'll siT ON you. Yo. I had just got to New York— I had all my luggage with me— And this lady gets on the train; She's got a broom. Idk what for, but okay; She gets onto the train, She looks around, and I guess she decides she wants the seat next to me. So like I said, I have all my stuff l so I'm a little spread out, but there's room— But you know what she does? She looks me straight in the eye And then just hits me with her broom. I was like —-?!? I'm thinking, “Okay is she racist or is that just a New York thing?” Like, “you can just hit people with shit!? damn!” What's funny is, I kinda respected her for that. She was old. Didn't say a word, just “bam” Like—- ‘move!' I'm like “okay!” New York is so classy. Girls wear panty hose, and stockings. I'm like “wow, that's actually nice. That's so wholesome! Tights?! Yeah!” It's so classy. I don't think girls in LA even wear regular panties. Let alone panty hose. Get it—panty—Hoes. I see correlation. You know what else is cool about New York. It's less racist. I mean- There's so much diversity, there's almost no room to be racist. It's crazy. So many people. So many colors. So much culture. So many languages! I hear languages I can't even place. I thought I was good. I'm in LA, I'm like, “Okay, that's Chinese—“ “That's Japanese” “That's Korean” “Farsi” I get to New York— I'm in the Delicstessen. Thats another thing. Nothing like a real, New York delicatessen. That's what “deli” is short for, by the way, everyone not from New York. It's “delicatessen” Lol. Anyway. I'm standing in the Deli and I hear some shit that—I'm not gonna lie— was actually quite alarming, as a native English speaker. I'm standing there, and this guy behind me literally over my shoulder says, “Blooppnsmabhoan ammaoakb amansbaiL aannaoka snkaoakmnlblblblnlnl!!!!” I'm like what the FUCK. This isn't REAL. “Blblblana. Akakma alak Akakamaamna!” I'm shoooook. What IS that!!? I like New York. The girls aren't all evil soulless heart eating demons. They're just “regular” I have to run back to LA and tell all my guy friends, they're like “Women are evil” I'm like— “Nooo, that's just out here.” Maybe. I don't know. I like New York. I bet it's wonderful when it's warm. I don't know! Maybe that's when shit hits the fan! Maybe it's like Chicago. EVERYBODY DIES IN THE SUMMER— Who said that. Chance the Rapper, I think. I don't know. LEGENDS: FAMESCHOOL This move is called: The “Slap-Dicksuck.” [carefully taking notes] “slap-dick-suck”…okay… hmm.. Now, class. [raises hand curiously] Yes? Um. SUPACREE— —PROFESSOR SUPACREE. Um. Professor SUPACREE— Yes! Why is it called the “Slap-Dicksuck” I was about to explain that. //SLAP-DICKSUCK// NEXT: we learn THE “SLAP-DICKSUCK-SLAP” Let me guess. No, no guessing. This class is gross. I like it. Yeah, you're gross. The world is gross. Get over it. GET OVER IT, DILLON FRANCIS. *sniffes* Please, stop crying. She— *sniffles* It's okay, Dillon. She took my piñata! Your piñata set your house on fire. He sets—everything on fire— Have you ever stopped to think— —no— thinking is bad. Go get dressed. No, not today. You look like a bloated chicken nugget. —I used to like chicken nuggets. hey, Tofu daddy. This is sick. This is a sick bitch we're dealing with. I'm not dealing with anything, I quit. Quit, you can't quit. I just did. DEADMAU5 Okay, no more bodies. Ū Okay. No more bodies. DEADMAU5 Really? Ū —No. DEADMAU5 Goddammit, this is not a GAME. Ū It is a game, though—and I'm a damn good marksman. DEADMAU5 Dammit, you're right. Ū I'm always right. Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? I powered on my phone to find the digital clock exactly at 1:15, which had seemed to be creeping up again as a recurring theme, along with some other unsettling figurines—if it was a race against time, I was losing—and If, perhaps, a Holy War, I must have been some sort of Holy, as it had seemed the world's good graces had turned her back on me, and that faith dwindled more quickly in the cold than any other condition. Lay your head on my shoulder, Your cheek on my cheek, Wrap your arm round my waist, You can think what I think You can skate on thin ice You can sing what I sing And when the ice breaks; You can sink when I sink Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? It had been strange waves of everything—more than I was ready for and much more than intentionally took on, all things considered. I burned my tongue on piping hot oatmeal, trying to eat rather than write, as it seemed the time had come that I could no longer skip meals and properly function. Nearing thirty like a bullet—and at least metaphorically bleeding as if I had actually been shot, my heart and soul throbbing and gushing into a paralyzing twist or fears and woes, trapped in a foreign city with almost nothing to my name, lugging around my music equipment and very few belongings, which—when put away neatly even in the smallest room— seemed like almost nothing, but was certainly too much to carry around, especially alone. And I was, so very alone. Drake Bell and the Hollywood Spell My newest and strangest muse yet had again insisted on appearing into my dream world, for the third time, anyway—which seemed a cruel and almost disturbing subconscious attempt to conjur up what might have been the entirety of my energy to complete the 6th Season of Enter The Multiverse, at this point which had even interested m

THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE LEGENDS GERALD'S WORLD OWSLA CONFIDENTIAL: THE INFINITE SKRILLIFILES ENTER THE MULTIVERSE DEATHWISH ASCENSION THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNÏ BLŪ SCARY MONSTERS & SUPACREE THE INSOMNIAC &MORE FROM [The Festival Project.™] SEASON 6 ACT III Part I MONTAGE: Clique, Cruel Summer Kanye West, JAY-Z & Big Sean EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES. BROAD ASS DAYLIGHT SUPACREE has unlocked 100% Of her ABILITIES GOD MODE UNLOCKED SUPACREE EXITS EQUINOX FITNESS CLUB AT LIGHTSPEED, Hitting the pavement with swift force, splitting into three dimensional selves; SUNNI BLŪ to her left and A MYSTERIOUS, unknown ALTER EGO to her right, she shifts quickly to the beat of the music, morphing into and out of parallels of the outer world, opening and closing portals, and encapsulating anything and everything within her force field—which happens to be the whole of GREATER LOS ANGELES. Damn. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Of a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something's off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful? The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world What have we done? This is bad, brother. That's a construct. Everything's a construct! Get ahold of yourself. Get ahold of—you know what? I do know. You think you're fuckin' clever. I am clever. You're a sick man. That's my business. Yeah, well—you made it my business. I am you. What a concept. *construct. God, help you! [sideways evil smirk] Hehe. SPAM! ON TACOS! BUTTERS Oh—Jesus! WHO PUTS SPAM ON TACOS?! A smart man. C'mon, Butters. We gotta get lost in the sauce before we try this out. I'MMA TRY IT OUT. OK. GOD, OH, GOD, PLEASE— MERCIFUL GOD IN HEAVEN— (WhT.) JUST— DON'T LET IT BE SKRILL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Fuxk. What. She took the train. Which fucking train. I don't know. The train. THE A TRAIN, or the B TRAIN?! HEY. WHAT, you motherfucking idiot? I THINK I LOVE YOU. Well, stop thinking. Ok. JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER has been kidnapped— He's like 50 years old. He's been dad-napped. —by the MOB. The MOB?! He's into some dark shit. Wait, he is?! In this series. He has been tied to a chair, which sits under a single spotlight in a shabby, dark room in NEW JERSEY. Ew, New Jersey. JIMMY THE MOBSTER Hi, Jimmy— JIMMY FALLON —uh—hello. JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON Oh, that's ironic. [beat] JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm gonna kill you, Jimmy. GOD If I give you a serious role, how are you gonna handle it? JIMMY FALLON like a pro. GOD don't lie to me, Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON What?! I'm not! My body, heart, mind, and soul was being attacked— I had 15 minutes to vacate the property and couldn't even focus—I had to use the bathroom so badly it hurt my soul. I was pacing back and forth, choking back ugly tears—the rude man in the room across the way still occupying the bathroom which I needed, both to clean and relieve myself—but it had been hell, after all, and needs like these had been proven to be in short supply. Fuck. This is a gun to your head. Just do it. [he moves the pistol into her mouth] Now it's in your mouth. [she unhinges her jaw to open it wider, never breaking eye contact and relaxes; he studies his hand on the grip of the tripper, ready to lill] You'll die today. [A comfort; as she relaxes, he as well changes—this seems to take the fun of killing away from him, he exacts the gun from her mouth] CONT'D You like that? I love it— You're dead, bitch! Yes, I am! A penniless whore. Whores get paid— Then, even less— What's less than this? A dead bitch. Think again. I don't think, I just shoot; Sounds like a man. Oh, I am. Then kill me with your hands. Jesus Christ, man. He can't help. No one can help you. So just shoot. [he can't] SUNNI. )&2&;@2@2$ YOU ARE OUT OF CONTROL. SUCK MY DICK. AGHHJJJ. Well. TMZ is here. This is a disaster. NEXT, WE LEARN: THE Oh my God. WhT. This is probably the worst thing I've ever written. Not the worst. Nope: it is the worst. Maybe it's just bad on paper. It's bad no matter how you — CONTROL, JANET PRIVACY. Here. Wtf is this. LEGENDS: FAME SCHOOL Christopher Walken was one of my professors in fame school For acting? For music. For music? That doesn't make any sense. Please, don't make me explain this. A FACE BATTLE CHRISTOPHER WALKEN vs. SUPACREE -_- —__^ *_- ^__ __/ *_* >< … —-__—- Ok. Alright. Show me what you got. SUPACREE plays a beat. You know where this is going. We all know where this is going. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN that was OK. “OK”?! Yeah. *shrugs* OK. You know what— You know what it needs? …what's it need? —-more cowbell. I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. It was perfect. It was OK. You're not OK. —maybe I'm not. You're definitely not. —know what helps? Don't tell me: More fucking cowbell. Lol. ⅔ ain't bad. Wait, two out or three?! Which one didn't I— —FUCK. What, what happened? They're onto me. THE BAMPHERAMPS, MOTHERFUCKING BAMPHERAMPHS, and THE ASCENDED MASTERY has assembled in NEW YORK CITY to stage a coup. It's a coup d'état. There sure is a lot of French shit over here. Well yeah, it's Paris. Wait. What, what now? If SUPACREE is in Paris. NIGGAZ. Right—then— Who the fuck are they chasing in New York. [just waking up] Why am I in New York? WHOOPI GOLDBERG you got anyplace else to be? …no. MEANWHILE, IN ROME. Fanculo! Really, dude. Apparently. A tear in my head; A rip in my soul, And the fabric of— Coming undone at the whole; I make sense of it all at the alter, The fall; To have fought in the war, And then lost, or to suffer at all Love was lost, I was never a martyr— Blood on the cross, And the crossroads, The frost and the stardust, “There's no God” For the honorable, Stuck in New York, But defrosting my toes, At the forefront I haven't once wondered or thought Of the love that I was, Since I stopped throwing rocks at the church Or got off on the wrong stop; What a puzzle, To jump off, Or rot in the heart of The hub— World of wonders, A mother of suns, Never wanted a daughter so much Unpunishment, Loved was the Duchess; To carry a crutch or a cross— So unbothered, untouched, So heartless and dark, For the marksman—a spark Or the dog does not bark At the horses You're in the clear, hero. Heartless, she was! Now, now—settle down. This is an absolute outrage. Is it, now? I say so! Maybe you shouldn't. Faro, a word, I've got three. I'll go first. [a smug look] What's happened here? A ressurection, sir. Care to explain? I said ‘three.' Where's the King? My palms grew numb as my throbbing heartache welled up into the back of my throat and sat perched up against my growling stomach, stuffed with beans and rice, perhaps to fill the sadness or satiate my need for protein, either one. ASCENSION If you're going to vomit, step away from me. —I'm not sick. Actually, step out of my house. This is your house? —I live here. —no one lives here. What did you think it was? an elaborate cave. It is—an elaborwte cave— —excuse my ignorance. You're excused entirely. —I appreciate that. I meant, from here. You should go. Faro, wait. No more waiting; you were uninvited. Trust me—this visitation is more necessary than voluntary. That's—a lot of words. I don't speak caveman. Just—get out. Listen: No more listening— It's about C'esme't. It always is. This is important. It always is. It concerns you. It always does. —? Wait. [a heavy sigh] [a long silence] Come with me. FARO leads GÍAN towards the back of his quarters. Close the door. I— what? Nevermind. You're useless. Ehrm—excuse me. Excused, your majesty. FARO opens a SECRET PASSAGEWAY into a FUTURISTIC CORIDOR, leading GÍAN into a vast FORTRESS. balls. Uh. My stomach in knots And my life is in ruins Constellations all gone, And my heart, on the border of hurt— And mistrust So unlovable, loveless— Promises, scars and the art was devoured Ah— she was awful; Ah—she must have lost her mind God, she was homeless, And loveless, And wild eyed All that I wanted, Was to get lost in the lobby, Before the whole ball dropped —and watch the false phropet Collide wirh the comet Stop: I lost God at the crosswalk, The punishment was Homeless Now watch this: This is what I wanted: Doesn't really matter now, Does it? Oh, doesn't it. God, this is Lucifer. Son, it's an honor. No God for a mother, who walks on her own. Now it's over or under. It's over. It never got started. I locked up my heart with the piñata. How irrelevant. How awkward. How curse words turn to mantras. How I have half a heart Or, like ⅓ We're being honest, now. I thought Illuminati wanted hotties and Caucasians. Well, I guess that'll explain, Why you've been stuck inside a cage, then. NICK CAGE is an extremely skilled time traveler. Ok. WHOOPI GOLDBERG has freed herself from the cage in which SUPACREE had skillfully trapped the OWL OF THE GOLDEN EYE. WhT a prophecy. MEANWHILE, AT HOGWARTS. HOGWARTS, 2023. ANANDAR is HEADMASTER. Ah, fuck. I'm gonna puke. All I wanted was to shamelessly watch the man's balls swing like a pendulum... Well, here's this instead. Oh no, it's Skrillex. Now you have to— —now I have to watch this. Why. Cause I've already seen that. I hate you. I hate you. SOLD, to the lady in red. Damn. Slavery is cool. Yeah, I guess. FUCK. What. Idk. BITCH. GET OUT THE BASEMENT; I'm in the attick What you think this is? Lights, camera, action: Now that attractions been well established I should get back to it, I'm in the attic Lighting up matches, Fixin my holes up with patches Callin it classic Call me an asshole, I can't be mad man, I am a mad man, I bring the mask back To Handle a trash can Get out the basement. I told you he could dance. A GIANT DRAGON Oh shit, here it comes. FIRE. DILLON FRANCIS I Well. We're gonna die. DILLON FRANCIS II If she throws up, I get a pickle. DILLON FRANCIS III That's a deal. DILLON FRANCIS II And if she cries, I get a French poodle named Angelina Jolie. DILLON FRANCIS III Righteous. DILLON FRANCIS II Yur damn right. A GIANT DRAGON FLIES OVERHEAD, SWEEPING THE SKIES WITH FIRE AND LIGHTNING. DILLON FRANCIS I (CONT'D) Yeah, we're definitely fucked. Why are you dressed like Froto. FROTO (in background, dressed exactly alike) That is offensive! SHUTTHEFUCKUP. It's the end of the world! (At least as we know it) IS THAT SKRILLEX? FIRE BREATHING DRAGON. Well, it was. What the fuck HAPPENED?! Is that its final form? Yes it is. I'll give you one million dollars. That's not enough. This card is priceless. What is this. Like a Pokémon game?! This whoops Pokémon's ass. This is LEGENDS. LIL' BIIIITZ Yo! New York is CRAZY First of all, how is it all of a sudden CLEANER THAN LA?! New York's like: here —we sent all the nasty people to LA. All better. Polarity shift! LA is gross now! New York cleaned up! The trains are nice —shit— All the trash is in BAGS. I was like “Whaaaaaaat” this is nice. What the fuck. This shit different! Unh. they exported all the nasty, crazy motherfuxkers to LA. On GOD. Cause every other psychologically twisted individual I talk to in LA is like: “I'M FROM NEW YORK” *hawks loogie, spits* Uhhhhh… I was going on a little European adventure; New York's like: “You know, you never stay long…” I'm like “There's a reason for that…welp, gotta go.” The whole universe fucked around and was like— “You know what? We like you here. Stay. “ What. “STAY.” Fuck. New York is different. Won't say I love it — But goddamn, I like it! People are rude. People are rude as fuck. I'm used to LA where people are fake nice For fuckin tips and shit, you know? Everybody's trying to get famous for something, Or something. Idk. Fake as fuck. Fake nice. Fake happy. Fake titties. Fake lips. Just fucking fake. fake everything. Everything is plastic. —and it's not tied up in garbage bags, either. It's just plastic, and trash, and piss everywhere. It's so gross. You see Venice Beach on the movies: It's all clean and beautiful, and picturesque. You get there, it's like Skid Row + Skid Row Coastal. LA has millions of homeless people everywhere. In cars, in tents. Under bridges. Everywhere. And I love LA! I really do. But it's fake. Everything is fake. New York is real as fuck. Yeaaah. Almost too real. But I like it. You don't have to fuckin fake shit. People don't say “excuse me—“ No. You're never forced to say “good morning “ before you had your coffee! Yuh! New York is doing it right. People sleep on the train— But nobody lives on that motherfucker! I was in New York like a week before the shock wore off that there were not hundreds of individuals on every train wreaking of piss and smoking crack openly—YES—illicit drug use on trains in LA is extremely casual. Everything in LA is casual. People wear pajamas to work. Yeah—that. Everyone in New York looks like they're going to eat at a five-star restaurant. Like all the time. No socks-with-slides. EW. I swore to God socks with slides was a sign of the apocalypse; I get to New York, none of that—but the cringy thing in New York is Crocs With Socs. Now mmmm we're bi-coastal. Socks-with-slides; Crocs-with-socks. Knock that shit off. TACKY. other than that, though… NY is cool. It's chic. It's fun. You gotta be careful though. You gotta watch out. I thought LA drivers were crazy. New York drivers are fucking psychotic. Pedestrians don't have the right of way. At all. If you're in a crosswalk in LA even if the light is red, people will stop and let you go. In New York you better wait for the fuckin walk sign. They will kill you. It's okay. 6 millions ways to die: choose one! Just kidding. That's some west coast shit. But I did see a whole ass mural of Snoop Dogg in Brooklyn and get slightly confused— Till I realized everything on it was the color blue, and I was deadass in the middle of Brooklyn going “What? Ohhhhh! Wait! The Crips!” “Those guys are everywhere!” Lol. Its a nation wide disorganization. Lol. Whatever. I like New York. Doing my best not to love it, So the universe doesn't balance me out by showing me what to hate about it So far, so good New York drivers don't play. I never seen a school bus drift before! DAMN. Almost got hit by a short bus. Oh, the irony. I saw a dude do a whole ass wheelie on an electric scooter. Not a moped, by the way. An electric scooter. Yup. New Yoooooork. BEDFORD AVENUE, BROOKLYN, NY. THE BAMPHERAMPHS have initiated SEQUENCE C I like New York. I gotta say. It IS like LA In the way that I know I can't live in New York if I'm not just filthy fucking rich. Cause, you know—there's still homelessness; But unlike in LA, where you just wander around, smelling like piss, begging for change— You freeze to death. A quick solution! Haha! (It's not funny.) but whatever. America. I thought I was leaving; I got trapped in the matrix. I was like “Fuck this place.” They're like: “stay! We need slaves!” I'm like FUCK. So I got stuck in New York. Ugh. At least it's a “free state” I made it north, ma! Not exactly the safest place to get stuck with no money, either, is it? Really nowhere is safe with no money. I mean, I know of some places south of the border you can live, basically free and just, you know—sleep in a hammock, sing for change and shit. Roam the beach. I know people that do that— it's just- I like showers. I don't love showers. Cause then, I'm sure God would find a way to take that away, too. I don't love anything anymore. Once you love something—it either goes away, or it burns you. Or both. Can't love things. Can't love people. No more love. Just—appreciate—things. Just—like—things, you know? Don't love anything. Speaking of suicidal tendencies. Hahah. You know what else is cool about New York? The trains actually come into the station fast enough to kill you. Like—you've had enough? Okay: here it is. Just to save you a trip to the Empire State Building. This train is coming in at 304 miles an hour and is somehow gonna stop in 3 seconds. —maybe 2 seconds, if you do jump— Better think fast! They almost come too fast, for suicide. Ready, set— Dammit. Missed it again. They're so fast. The trains in LA stopped going suicide-fast like, a couple years ago—maybe, just before the pandemic—I think. They're like “You know what! This is happening too often. I am ALWAYS late to my other two jobs ‘cause someone killed themselves on my train! Fuck!” LA's like: “Well fuck this, all the slaves are killing themselves on the trains.” “Damn, that sucks” LA's like “Yeah, okay so: here's what we do; we'll put up signs for a suicide hotline at the popular jumping points” “LA's like: okay” “And—we'll tell the train operators they gotta slow down coming into the station—“ “That'll do it!” “—that way, If they still do decide to jump, they'll just get paralyzed, and contribute to the opioid crisis: more funding for big pharma!” “Yes, it's genius!” “—unless they're black, or on Medicaid, then: we'll send em home with some ibuprofen and make sure they collect disability, so that they can become addicted to crack, or something like that —you know.” “Yes. That's perfect.” Good Job LA. I get lost in New York. I'll be on New York like “YO, WHERE THE FUCK AM I AT?” “In New York” GODDAMMIT. You know what else is weird about New York? Personal space is not a thing. I mean, “space” is not a thing at all, anyway. But “Personal space”? No. People will not only sit by you; The'll siT ON you. Yo. I had just got to New York— I had all my luggage with me— And this lady gets on the train; She's got a broom. Idk what for, but okay; She gets onto the train, She looks around, and I guess she decides she wants the seat next to me. So like I said, I have all my stuff l so I'm a little spread out, but there's room— But you know what she does? She looks me straight in the eye And then just hits me with her broom. I was like —-?!? I'm thinking, “Okay is she racist or is that just a New York thing?” Like, “you can just hit people with shit!? damn!” What's funny is, I kinda respected her for that. She was old. Didn't say a word, just “bam” Like—- ‘move!' I'm like “okay!” New York is so classy. Girls wear panty hose, and stockings. I'm like “wow, that's actually nice. That's so wholesome! Tights?! Yeah!” It's so classy. I don't think girls in LA even wear regular panties. Let alone panty hose. Get it—panty—Hoes. I see correlation. You know what else is cool about New York. It's less racist. I mean- There's so much diversity, there's almost no room to be racist. It's crazy. So many people. So many colors. So much culture. So many languages! I hear languages I can't even place. I thought I was good. I'm in LA, I'm like, “Okay, that's Chinese—“ “That's Japanese” “That's Korean” “Farsi” I get to New York— I'm in the Delicstessen. Thats another thing. Nothing like a real, New York delicatessen. That's what “deli” is short for, by the way, everyone not from New York. It's “delicatessen” Lol. Anyway. I'm standing in the Deli and I hear some shit that—I'm not gonna lie— was actually quite alarming, as a native English speaker. I'm standing there, and this guy behind me literally over my shoulder says, “Blooppnsmabhoan ammaoakb amansbaiL aannaoka snkaoakmnlblblblnlnl!!!!” I'm like what the FUCK. This isn't REAL. “Blblblana. Akakma alak Akakamaamna!” I'm shoooook. What IS that!!? I like New York. The girls aren't all evil soulless heart eating demons. They're just “regular” I have to run back to LA and tell all my guy friends, they're like “Women are evil” I'm like— “Nooo, that's just out here.” Maybe. I don't know. I like New York. I bet it's wonderful when it's warm. I don't know! Maybe that's when shit hits the fan! Maybe it's like Chicago. EVERYBODY DIES IN THE SUMMER— Who said that. Chance the Rapper, I think. I don't know. LEGENDS: FAMESCHOOL This move is called: The “Slap-Dicksuck.” [carefully taking notes] “slap-dick-suck”…okay… hmm.. Now, class. [raises hand curiously] Yes? Um. SUPACREE— —PROFESSOR SUPACREE. Um. Professor SUPACREE— Yes! Why is it called the “Slap-Dicksuck” I was about to explain that. //SLAP-DICKSUCK// NEXT: we learn THE “SLAP-DICKSUCK-SLAP” Let me guess. No, no guessing. This class is gross. I like it. Yeah, you're gross. The world is gross. Get over it. GET OVER IT, DILLON FRANCIS. *sniffes* Please, stop crying. She— *sniffles* It's okay, Dillon. She took my piñata! Your piñata set your house on fire. He sets—everything on fire— Have you ever stopped to think— —no— thinking is bad. Go get dressed. No, not today. You look like a bloated chicken nugget. —I used to like chicken nuggets. hey, Tofu daddy. This is sick. This is a sick bitch we're dealing with. I'm not dealing with anything, I quit. Quit, you can't quit. I just did. DEADMAU5 Okay, no more bodies. Ū Okay. No more bodies. DEADMAU5 Really? Ū —No. DEADMAU5 Goddammit, this is not a GAME. Ū It is a game, though—and I'm a damn good marksman. DEADMAU5 Dammit, you're right. Ū I'm always right. Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? I powered on my phone to find the digital clock exactly at 1:15, which had seemed to be creeping up again as a recurring theme, along with some other unsettling figurines—if it was a race against time, I was losing—and If, perhaps, a Holy War, I must have been some sort of Holy, as it had seemed the world's good graces had turned her back on me, and that faith dwindled more quickly in the cold than any other condition. Lay your head on my shoulder, Your cheek on my cheek, Wrap your arm round my waist, You can think what I think You can skate on thin ice You can sing what I sing And when the ice breaks; You can sink when I sink Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? It had been strange waves of everything—more than I was ready for and much more than intentionally took on, all things considered. I burned my tongue on piping hot oatmeal, trying to eat rather than write, as it seemed the time had come that I could no longer skip meals and properly function. Nearing thirty like a bullet—and at least metaphorically bleeding as if I had actually been shot, my heart and soul throbbing and gushing into a paralyzing twist or fears and woes, trapped in a foreign city with almost nothing to my name, lugging around my music equipment and very few belongings, which—when put away neatly even in the smallest room— seemed like almost nothing, but was certainly too much to carry around, especially alone. And I was, so very alone. Drake Bell and the Hollywood Spell My newest and strangest muse yet had again insisted on appearing into my dream world, for the third time, anyway—which seemed a cruel and almost disturbing subconscious attempt to conjur up what might have been the entirety of my energy to complete the 6th Season of Enter The Multiverse, at this point which had even interested me, reinvigorating my senses and at least partially restoring my faith in something, even if it was just Hollywood being Hollywood. But now, even miles away from Hollywoodland, and stranded far, far away with no conceivable way to find my way back, even if I did have a home there waiting for me—and there wasn't—there didn't seem to be a home anywhere for me at all, and with my money running well towards dry I had spent most the week dry heaving into panic attacks about where I would go, or what I would do/—especially dragging around all of my luggage and equipment, and while it was true my equipment could have easily found it's way into a pawn shop, to at least offset the impending homelessness by maybe a couple days, and a couple hundred dollars—it didn't seem quite worth it to sell my dream again, especially for the miserable existence of sharing a hostel room with whoever decided to snore or cough their way into my hellish realm of corporate slavery, lovelessness, and lack of privacy. Yes, my conciousness had summoned up this man into my dreamworld now three times, and for whatever reason, if there was one — I could consider it a charm. Had I not been working at the smokeshop what now seemed like ages ago, I might have forgotten entirely that such a person had ever existed—which I had, since the experience, for the record, at least tried to—but for some reason, disasterously couldnt; it had all awakened something serious and spiritual within my outer world, piquing my ultra conscious into a rare and bewildering curiosity that had done well to slay and murder the cat in all of its nine lives, and then some. It wasn't entirely on purpose, or without guilt that my mind seemed to inquisitively structure an entire hidden world and to form a strange and illicit bond with this fragile man creature, not that my social status or overwhelmingly average, unattractive, stranded and abandoned wastebasket of a demon, or diety whatever I was in whatever kind of light, would have much at all to do but suffer the result of having missed the bar by far, stumbling into the lower realms of the world by mere circumstance, on occasion, without notice. I was certainly thinking about it too much, and hating myself for it, a certain spark or inspiration for the Timmy Turner timelines met with the sudden flash of what may have even been a lost memory of not for all this Hollywood trauma, or dogma, whichever made sense—because none of it did, at all, besides to reverse what time had done by allowing me to forget my turbulent childhood, which couldn't matter anymore in this moment as it ever had; and though I was producing a fruitful workout at Equinox, squatting deeply into the Smith Machine and breathing deeply into my lower back, where the tension from the weight of my leftover skin met the pain in the whole of my torso, an apparent rush sent a splash of slobber out of the side of my mouth, my third eye a gaping and burning hole streaking heat across the middle of my forehead—all of a sudden the high of Nitrous Oxide filled my mind, if only for a moment—flung back into a memory nearly two decades old. “That's it.” I remembered thinking. “No more of this.” I sat down the can of keyboard cleaner on the bathroom floor. I had scared myself straight, long before I even knew what I was doing—and I didn't know at all, having been nine, or maybe 10–long before I would ever *want* to get high, not understanding that or why I needed to, anyway—or that getting “high” was what I was doing at all. No, at the time, it simply ‘felt really good', until it didn't—the particular memory which struck me in the dead center of the Equinox floor—and snapping back into my body, shaking myself out of it and leaning into the bar to stretch, taking in a deep breath and choking back an ocean of tears. “Idiot.” I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever Dreams Wil Be Dreams. Since departing LA, all my dreams had been strange, and I found myself growing more distant from myself, or from anything real at all, my dreams skewing into a horrid soundscape of rampant memories and false hopes of love. Finally able to seek refuge in meditation, I had been bombarded with images of Dillon Francis balancing some pretty little white girl in his lap—and though I couldn't quite unhinge the Amethyst from my possession, I had been giving it the distance I needed for something like peace of mind, without the actual peace itself at play. There had been quite the spell to break, and though it hadn't even been moderately broken—I at least knew now what magic I was dealing with. Dillon Hart Francis was a powerful magician—perhaps too powerful, and with that I took my strides into gatekeeping at the very least, since no peace could be made. I could love with a wholesome heart, but a tarnished mind and a gated soul would simply not outlast the infinite journey. Though I had been illicitly carfeful not to look him in the eye last we did meet, there was a remarkable force in place far beyond control—or at least my control— which kept such power from being apprehended; I had done my best to let go, knowing it was indeed a spell at play, and rather than a curse no need to worry or fear it's users intentions. Magic was a give-and-take, and so much had been at this point taken from me that the bruises of jealousy for whatever it was being waved about my psyche as ‘better than' could do no more than to rip the rest of my heart from its crevice as I pondered on what I might have done right, or might have done wrong—if there were such things. ‘White girls get all the love.' It was only true in my heart and my mind, and so it must have sat in my soul a certain way. I had never intended really to fall into what I had fallen into with Dillon Francis—not that it couldn't or wouldn't be undone, eventually, as I was inraveling myself into an unremarkable, unastonishing whisp — a fracture in time to do much less than even be though of, or forgotten. I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever A piece of my rock had shattered on the floor of the shower at Equinox—the only stone I kept for myself, and often forgotten about, as I did myself, not that i mattered much. It shattered unevenly into three pieces, one of which I left in the sauna, quickly before departing—and the other which I had dropped in Times Square, begrudgingly under the LCD American flag by which I felt betrayed: How could our nation not only allow, but create homelessness as a scare tactic to keep the working poor working as slaves, to saciate the wealthy's wants and needs? “Whatever.” I'm not going to hurt you, You can't hurt me anymore than I can hurt myself. I'm glad you know that. I don't know anything. Suicide fucking sucks. I know that. It might be time for me to go But I just want to let you know I still got love for you; And there's still hope; I left the door open I gotta go, you know, It's hopeless for some At the end of my rope —and it's a long way home, But it's home at the end It's home at the end of a long, lond road I took the wrong one, But at least now I know you I'll go on It seems that I still have a soul, somewhere I walked in on thin air, And now I'm here; I don't know where I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever LEGENDS EDDIE MURPHY opens the heavy Victorian style door, after three solid knocks from under the GLOVED HAND which lifts the golden-brass door knocker. To what do I owe the pleasure? WHOOPI GOLDBERG Business, not pleasure. -_- Well, which business. All of ‘em. [She gestures to pass through the doorway.] Please, come in. Coffee, or Tea? Coffee this late? [beat] Coffee. This is serious. You look serious. I've been—confined. Drake Bell, you son of a bitch. Oh, so you do know my name. I know all your names. So it is. So I am. — How'd you get in this? I've always been in this. What is “always”? How did you get in this? I am this. What a philosophy. Call it what you want. What if I don't. Then don't. See you on the other side. Someone once told me, the grass is much greener— on the other side. —and when I paid a visit, (It's possible I missed it) Seemed different, yet exactly the same. DILLON FRANCIS I didn't want it to end this way. I didn't want it to end. Well, it did. You let it. I had to. Just let go. No, I can't. Hah! What's so funny? You're fucking impossible. Nothing is “impossible” you said that. But you “can't” Let this go? Ah-hah. No. This here will keep slowly unwinding until there's no more. —and then what? There's no more. Damn. This is foul. Hm. Take a time out, Timmy. I'm a take a t-t-taxi I pay my t-t-taxes The actor and the actress. Oh, He's Big Hollywood; Doesn't Have a Job, But the work's real good – His lines are smooth and his days are long, Gotta make it right, For a whole lot of wrongs He's Big-Big Hollywood Doesn't have a job; But the work's real good Coming in hot, Like he's fresh out the box That's a real big nugget, With a whole lot of sauce. Stop. What. What is this. It's a song. This is awful. FUCK IT. I DON'T CARE. Damn, Oreos AND Ben & Jerry's?! IT'S DAIRY-FREE. Tf kind o f Oreos is that. They're GLuten FrEe. FUCK IT. Sunni, get a hold of yourself. YOU GET A HOLD OF YOUR SELF. Stop yelling from across the room. I'LL YELL WHERE I WANT. Fuck this job. FUCK YOU MARIANNE. AGGHH. AGGHHHHHHHHH. Fuck What. What's up. I need a smoke break. I'M GONNA RIP YOUR HEART OUT. YOU DOn'T HAVE A HEART. SHUT UP, DILLON FRANCIS. GOd. WHO INVITED HIM, ANYWAY. I didn't. NOBODY INVITED HIM. The inspiration to music hit at just the right and the wrong time—I had finally found my way to the butt machine, only after visiting every other floor and guessing incorrectly—only to make it to the machine in just enough time to realize that I was for some reason exhausted—perhaps having just blown my last fuse, realizing I was literally down to my last, few pennies— and, unknowing of how to escape the hole I had dug myself into, falling into a carful and unsecured ‘lust' with New York, surely never to fall in love with another city as I had LA, learning my lessons well, and knowing all too well that nowhere and no one like me was safe from homelessness in the US—now having proven itself to be a hostile entity, in a full police state. It didn't seem to matter, though, as I had narrowly missed my escape nearly on purpose, but not— it seemed something entirely outward was keeping me at bay and in the US, not that I had wanted to leave out of fear for my life as much as I wanted adventure and exploration—but either way was going nowhere at all fast, and running out or money even faster. “Fuck, I hate my life” I had probably over caffeinated, at least half the reason I couldn't budge to top speed, even blasting bangarang into my eardrums at nearly top volume—this day, it only emotionally weakened me, having demoted myself entirely from any sort of elite status, back into the realm of obsessive fandom, and perhaps even schizophrenia, per Dane Cook's shenanigans. Yeah, I'm tired and I need to take like ten shits. Just finish then. If I leave early I have to come back early. Well, go, then. Muscle fatigue, check Dehydration, check Psyche completely shattered Check. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE LEGENDS GERALD'S WORLD OWSLA CONFIDENTIAL: THE INFINITE SKRILLIFILES ENTER THE MULTIVERSE DEATHWISH ASCENSION THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNÏ BLŪ SCARY MONSTERS & SUPACREE THE INSOMNIAC &MORE FROM [The Festival Project.™] SEASON 6 ACT III Part I MONTAGE: Clique, Cruel Summer Kanye West, JAY-Z & Big Sean EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES. BROAD ASS DAYLIGHT SUPACREE has unlocked 100% Of her ABILITIES GOD MODE UNLOCKED SUPACREE EXITS EQUINOX FITNESS CLUB AT LIGHTSPEED, Hitting the pavement with swift force, splitting into three dimensional selves; SUNNI BLŪ to her left and A MYSTERIOUS, unknown ALTER EGO to her right, she shifts quickly to the beat of the music, morphing into and out of parallels of the outer world, opening and closing portals, and encapsulating anything and everything within her force field—which happens to be the whole of GREATER LOS ANGELES. Damn. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Of a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something's off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful? The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world What have we done? This is bad, brother. That's a construct. Everything's a construct! Get ahold of yourself. Get ahold of—you know what? I do know. You think you're fuckin' clever. I am clever. You're a sick man. That's my business. Yeah, well—you made it my business. I am you. What a concept. *construct. God, help you! [sideways evil smirk] Hehe. SPAM! ON TACOS! BUTTERS Oh—Jesus! WHO PUTS SPAM ON TACOS?! A smart man. C'mon, Butters. We gotta get lost in the sauce before we try this out. I'MMA TRY IT OUT. OK. GOD, OH, GOD, PLEASE— MERCIFUL GOD IN HEAVEN— (WhT.) JUST— DON'T LET IT BE SKRILL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Fuxk. What. She took the train. Which fucking train. I don't know. The train. THE A TRAIN, or the B TRAIN?! HEY. WHAT, you motherfucking idiot? I THINK I LOVE YOU. Well, stop thinking. Ok. JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER has been kidnapped— He's like 50 years old. He's been dad-napped. —by the MOB. The MOB?! He's into some dark shit. Wait, he is?! In this series. He has been tied to a chair, which sits under a single spotlight in a shabby, dark room in NEW JERSEY. Ew, New Jersey. JIMMY THE MOBSTER Hi, Jimmy— JIMMY FALLON —uh—hello. JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON Oh, that's ironic. [beat] JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm gonna kill you, Jimmy. GOD If I give you a serious role, how are you gonna handle it? JIMMY FALLON like a pro. GOD don't lie to me, Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON What?! I'm not! My body, heart, mind, and soul was being attacked— I had 15 minutes to vacate the property and couldn't even focus—I had to use the bathroom so badly it hurt my soul. I was pacing back and forth, choking back ugly tears—the rude man in the room across the way still occupying the bathroom which I needed, both to clean and relieve myself—but it had been hell, after all, and needs like these had been proven to be in short supply. Fuck. This is a gun to your head. Just do it. [he moves the pistol into her mouth] Now it's in your mouth. [she unhinges her jaw to open it wider, never breaking eye contact and relaxes; he studies his hand on the grip of the tripper, ready to lill] You'll die today. [A comfort; as she relaxes, he as well changes—this seems to take the fun of killing away from him, he exacts the gun from her mouth] CONT'D You like that? I love it— You're dead, bitch! Yes, I am! A penniless whore. Whores get paid— Then, even less— What's less than this? A dead bitch. Think again. I don't think, I just shoot; Sounds like a man. Oh, I am. Then kill me with your hands. Jesus Christ, man. He can't help. No one can help you. So just shoot. [he can't] SUNNI. )&2&;@2@2$ YOU ARE OUT OF CONTROL. SUCK MY DICK. AGHHJJJ. Well. TMZ is here. This is a disaster. NEXT, WE LEARN: THE Oh my God. WhT. This is probably the worst thing I've ever written. Not the worst. Nope: it is the worst. Maybe it's just bad on paper. It's bad no matter how you — CONTROL, JANET PRIVACY. Here. Wtf is this. LEGENDS: FAME SCHOOL Christopher Walken was one of my professors in fame school For acting? For music. For music? That doesn't make any sense. Please, don't make me explain this. A FACE BATTLE CHRISTOPHER WALKEN vs. SUPACREE -_- —__^ *_- ^__ __/ *_* >< … —-__—- Ok. Alright. Show me what you got. SUPACREE plays a beat. You know where this is going. We all know where this is going. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN that was OK. “OK”?! Yeah. *shrugs* OK. You know what— You know what it needs? …what's it need? —-more cowbell. I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. It was perfect. It was OK. You're not OK. —maybe I'm not. You're definitely not. —know what helps? Don't tell me: More fucking cowbell. Lol. ⅔ ain't bad. Wait, two out or three?! Which one didn't I— —FUCK. What, what happened? They're onto me. THE BAMPHERAMPS, MOTHERFUCKING BAMPHERAMPHS, and THE ASCENDED MASTERY has assembled in NEW YORK CITY to stage a coup. It's a coup d'état. There sure is a lot of French shit over here. Well yeah, it's Paris. Wait. What, what now? If SUPACREE is in Paris. NIGGAZ. Right—then— Who the fuck are they chasing in New York. [just waking up] Why am I in New York? WHOOPI GOLDBERG you got anyplace else to be? …no. MEANWHILE, IN ROME. Fanculo! Really, dude. Apparently. A tear in my head; A rip in my soul, And the fabric of— Coming undone at the whole; I make sense of it all at the alter, The fall; To have fought in the war, And then lost, or to suffer at all Love was lost, I was never a martyr— Blood on the cross, And the crossroads, The frost and the stardust, “There's no God” For the honorable, Stuck in New York, But defrosting my toes, At the forefront I haven't once wondered or thought Of the love that I was, Since I stopped throwing rocks at the church Or got off on the wrong stop; What a puzzle, To jump off, Or rot in the heart of The hub— World of wonders, A mother of suns, Never wanted a daughter so much Unpunishment, Loved was the Duchess; To carry a crutch or a cross— So unbothered, untouched, So heartless and dark, For the marksman—a spark Or the dog does not bark At the horses You're in the clear, hero. Heartless, she was! Now, now—settle down. This is an absolute outrage. Is it, now? I say so! Maybe you shouldn't. Faro, a word, I've got three. I'll go first. [a smug look] What's happened here? A ressurection, sir. Care to explain? I said ‘three.' Where's the King? My palms grew numb as my throbbing heartache welled up into the back of my throat and sat perched up against my growling stomach, stuffed with beans and rice, perhaps to fill the sadness or satiate my need for protein, either one. ASCENSION If you're going to vomit, step away from me. —I'm not sick. Actually, step out of my house. This is your house? —I live here. —no one lives here. What did you think it was? an elaborate cave. It is—an elaborwte cave— —excuse my ignorance. You're excused entirely. —I appreciate that. I meant, from here. You should go. Faro, wait. No more waiting; you were uninvited. Trust me—this visitation is more necessary than voluntary. That's—a lot of words. I don't speak caveman. Just—get out. Listen: No more listening— It's about C'esme't. It always is. This is important. It always is. It concerns you. It always does. —? Wait. [a heavy sigh] [a long silence] Come with me. FARO leads GÍAN towards the back of his quarters. Close the door. I— what? Nevermind. You're useless. Ehrm—excuse me. Excused, your majesty. FARO opens a SECRET PASSAGEWAY into a FUTURISTIC CORIDOR, leading GÍAN into a vast FORTRESS. balls. Uh. My stomach in knots And my life is in ruins Constellations all gone, And my heart, on the border of hurt— And mistrust So unlovable, loveless— Promises, scars and the art was devoured Ah— she was awful; Ah—she must have lost her mind God, she was homeless, And loveless, And wild eyed All that I wanted, Was to get lost in the lobby, Before the whole ball dropped —and watch the false phropet Collide wirh the comet Stop: I lost God at the crosswalk, The punishment was Homeless Now watch this: This is what I wanted: Doesn't really matter now, Does it? Oh, doesn't it. God, this is Lucifer. Son, it's an honor. No God for a mother, who walks on her own. Now it's over or under. It's over. It never got started. I locked up my heart with the piñata. How irrelevant. How awkward. How curse words turn to mantras. How I have half a heart Or, like ⅓ We're being honest, now. I thought Illuminati wanted hotties and Caucasians. Well, I guess that'll explain, Why you've been stuck inside a cage, then. NICK CAGE is an extremely skilled time traveler. Ok. WHOOPI GOLDBERG has freed herself from the cage in which SUPACREE had skillfully trapped the OWL OF THE GOLDEN EYE. WhT a prophecy. MEANWHILE, AT HOGWARTS. HOGWARTS, 2023. ANANDAR is HEADMASTER. Ah, fuck. I'm gonna puke. All I wanted was to shamelessly watch the man's balls swing like a pendulum... Well, here's this instead. Oh no, it's Skrillex. Now you have to— —now I have to watch this. Why. Cause I've already seen that. I hate you. I hate you. SOLD, to the lady in red. Damn. Slavery is cool. Yeah, I guess. FUCK. What. Idk. BITCH. GET OUT THE BASEMENT; I'm in the attick What you think this is? Lights, camera, action: Now that attractions been well established I should get back to it, I'm in the attic Lighting up matches, Fixin my holes up with patches Callin it classic Call me an asshole, I can't be mad man, I am a mad man, I bring the mask back To Handle a trash can Get out the basement. I told you he could dance. A GIANT DRAGON Oh shit, here it comes. FIRE. DILLON FRANCIS I Well. We're gonna die. DILLON FRANCIS II If she throws up, I get a pickle. DILLON FRANCIS III That's a deal. DILLON FRANCIS II And if she cries, I get a French poodle named Angelina Jolie. DILLON FRANCIS III Righteous. DILLON FRANCIS II Yur damn right. A GIANT DRAGON FLIES OVERHEAD, SWEEPING THE SKIES WITH FIRE AND LIGHTNING. DILLON FRANCIS I (CONT'D) Yeah, we're definitely fucked. Why are you dressed like Froto. FROTO (in background, dressed exactly alike) That is offensive! SHUTTHEFUCKUP. It's the end of the world! (At least as we know it) IS THAT SKRILLEX? FIRE BREATHING DRAGON. Well, it was. What the fuck HAPPENED?! Is that its final form? Yes it is. I'll give you one million dollars. That's not enough. This card is priceless. What is this. Like a Pokémon game?! This whoops Pokémon's ass. This is LEGENDS. LIL' BIIIITZ Yo! New York is CRAZY First of all, how is it all of a sudden CLEANER THAN LA?! New York's like: here —we sent all the nasty people to LA. All better. Polarity shift! LA is gross now! New York cleaned up! The trains are nice —shit— All the trash is in BAGS. I was like “Whaaaaaaat” this is nice. What the fuck. This shit different! Unh. they exported all the nasty, crazy motherfuxkers to LA. On GOD. Cause every other psychologically twisted individual I talk to in LA is like: “I'M FROM NEW YORK” *hawks loogie, spits* Uhhhhh… I was going on a little European adventure; New York's like: “You know, you never stay long…” I'm like “There's a reason for that…welp, gotta go.” The whole universe fucked around and was like— “You know what? We like you here. Stay. “ What. “STAY.” Fuck. New York is different. Won't say I love it — But goddamn, I like it! People are rude. People are rude as fuck. I'm used to LA where people are fake nice For fuckin tips and shit, you know? Everybody's trying to get famous for something, Or something. Idk. Fake as fuck. Fake nice. Fake happy. Fake titties. Fake lips. Just fucking fake. fake everything. Everything is plastic. —and it's not tied up in garbage bags, either. It's just plastic, and trash, and piss everywhere. It's so gross. You see Venice Beach on the movies: It's all clean and beautiful, and picturesque. You get there, it's like Skid Row + Skid Row Coastal. LA has millions of homeless people everywhere. In cars, in tents. Under bridges. Everywhere. And I love LA! I really do. But it's fake. Everything is fake. New York is real as fuck. Yeaaah. Almost too real. But I like it. You don't have to fuckin fake shit. People don't say “excuse me—“ No. You're never forced to say “good morning “ before you had your coffee! Yuh! New York is doing it right. People sleep on the train— But nobody lives on that motherfucker! I was in New York like a week before the shock wore off that there were not hundreds of individuals on every train wreaking of piss and smoking crack openly—YES—illicit drug use on trains in LA is extremely casual. Everything in LA is casual. People wear pajamas to work. Yeah—that. Everyone in New York looks like they're going to eat at a five-star restaurant. Like all the time. No socks-with-slides. EW. I swore to God socks with slides was a sign of the apocalypse; I get to New York, none of that—but the cringy thing in New York is Crocs With Socs. Now mmmm we're bi-coastal. Socks-with-slides; Crocs-with-socks. Knock that shit off. TACKY. other than that, though… NY is cool. It's chic. It's fun. You gotta be careful though. You gotta watch out. I thought LA drivers were crazy. New York drivers are fucking psychotic. Pedestrians don't have the right of way. At all. If you're in a crosswalk in LA even if the light is red, people will stop and let you go. In New York you better wait for the fuckin walk sign. They will kill you. It's okay. 6 millions ways to die: choose one! Just kidding. That's some west coast shit. But I did see a whole ass mural of Snoop Dogg in Brooklyn and get slightly confused— Till I realized everything on it was the color blue, and I was deadass in the middle of Brooklyn going “What? Ohhhhh! Wait! The Crips!” “Those guys are everywhere!” Lol. Its a nation wide disorganization. Lol. Whatever. I like New York. Doing my best not to love it, So the universe doesn't balance me out by showing me what to hate about it So far, so good New York drivers don't play. I never seen a school bus drift before! DAMN. Almost got hit by a short bus. Oh, the irony. I saw a dude do a whole ass wheelie on an electric scooter. Not a moped, by the way. An electric scooter. Yup. New Yoooooork. BEDFORD AVENUE, BROOKLYN, NY. THE BAMPHERAMPHS have initiated SEQUENCE C I like New York. I gotta say. It IS like LA In the way that I know I can't live in New York if I'm not just filthy fucking rich. Cause, you know—there's still homelessness; But unlike in LA, where you just wander around, smelling like piss, begging for change— You freeze to death. A quick solution! Haha! (It's not funny.) but whatever. America. I thought I was leaving; I got trapped in the matrix. I was like “Fuck this place.” They're like: “stay! We need slaves!” I'm like FUCK. So I got stuck in New York. Ugh. At least it's a “free state” I made it north, ma! Not exactly the safest place to get stuck with no money, either, is it? Really nowhere is safe with no money. I mean, I know of some places south of the border you can live, basically free and just, you know—sleep in a hammock, sing for change and shit. Roam the beach. I know people that do that— it's just- I like showers. I don't love showers. Cause then, I'm sure God would find a way to take that away, too. I don't love anything anymore. Once you love something—it either goes away, or it burns you. Or both. Can't love things. Can't love people. No more love. Just—appreciate—things. Just—like—things, you know? Don't love anything. Speaking of suicidal tendencies. Hahah. You know what else is cool about New York? The trains actually come into the station fast enough to kill you. Like—you've had enough? Okay: here it is. Just to save you a trip to the Empire State Building. This train is coming in at 304 miles an hour and is somehow gonna stop in 3 seconds. —maybe 2 seconds, if you do jump— Better think fast! They almost come too fast, for suicide. Ready, set— Dammit. Missed it again. They're so fast. The trains in LA stopped going suicide-fast like, a couple years ago—maybe, just before the pandemic—I think. They're like “You know what! This is happening too often. I am ALWAYS late to my other two jobs ‘cause someone killed themselves on my train! Fuck!” LA's like: “Well fuck this, all the slaves are killing themselves on the trains.” “Damn, that sucks” LA's like “Yeah, okay so: here's what we do; we'll put up signs for a suicide hotline at the popular jumping points” “LA's like: okay” “And—we'll tell the train operators they gotta slow down coming into the station—“ “That'll do it!” “—that way, If they still do decide to jump, they'll just get paralyzed, and contribute to the opioid crisis: more funding for big pharma!” “Yes, it's genius!” “—unless they're black, or on Medicaid, then: we'll send em home with some ibuprofen and make sure they collect disability, so that they can become addicted to crack, or something like that —you know.” “Yes. That's perfect.” Good Job LA. I get lost in New York. I'll be on New York like “YO, WHERE THE FUCK AM I AT?” “In New York” GODDAMMIT. You know what else is weird about New York? Personal space is not a thing. I mean, “space” is not a thing at all, anyway. But “Personal space”? No. People will not only sit by you; The'll siT ON you. Yo. I had just got to New York— I had all my luggage with me— And this lady gets on the train; She's got a broom. Idk what for, but okay; She gets onto the train, She looks around, and I guess she decides she wants the seat next to me. So like I said, I have all my stuff l so I'm a little spread out, but there's room— But you know what she does? She looks me straight in the eye And then just hits me with her broom. I was like —-?!? I'm thinking, “Okay is she racist or is that just a New York thing?” Like, “you can just hit people with shit!? damn!” What's funny is, I kinda respected her for that. She was old. Didn't say a word, just “bam” Like—- ‘move!' I'm like “okay!” New York is so classy. Girls wear panty hose, and stockings. I'm like “wow, that's actually nice. That's so wholesome! Tights?! Yeah!” It's so classy. I don't think girls in LA even wear regular panties. Let alone panty hose. Get it—panty—Hoes. I see correlation. You know what else is cool about New York. It's less racist. I mean- There's so much diversity, there's almost no room to be racist. It's crazy. So many people. So many colors. So much culture. So many languages! I hear languages I can't even place. I thought I was good. I'm in LA, I'm like, “Okay, that's Chinese—“ “That's Japanese” “That's Korean” “Farsi” I get to New York— I'm in the Delicstessen. Thats another thing. Nothing like a real, New York delicatessen. That's what “deli” is short for, by the way, everyone not from New York. It's “delicatessen” Lol. Anyway. I'm standing in the Deli and I hear some shit that—I'm not gonna lie— was actually quite alarming, as a native English speaker. I'm standing there, and this guy behind me literally over my shoulder says, “Blooppnsmabhoan ammaoakb amansbaiL aannaoka snkaoakmnlblblblnlnl!!!!” I'm like what the FUCK. This isn't REAL. “Blblblana. Akakma alak Akakamaamna!” I'm shoooook. What IS that!!? I like New York. The girls aren't all evil soulless heart eating demons. They're just “regular” I have to run back to LA and tell all my guy friends, they're like “Women are evil” I'm like— “Nooo, that's just out here.” Maybe. I don't know. I like New York. I bet it's wonderful when it's warm. I don't know! Maybe that's when shit hits the fan! Maybe it's like Chicago. EVERYBODY DIES IN THE SUMMER— Who said that. Chance the Rapper, I think. I don't know. LEGENDS: FAMESCHOOL This move is called: The “Slap-Dicksuck.” [carefully taking notes] “slap-dick-suck”…okay… hmm.. Now, class. [raises hand curiously] Yes? Um. SUPACREE— —PROFESSOR SUPACREE. Um. Professor SUPACREE— Yes! Why is it called the “Slap-Dicksuck” I was about to explain that. //SLAP-DICKSUCK// NEXT: we learn THE “SLAP-DICKSUCK-SLAP” Let me guess. No, no guessing. This class is gross. I like it. Yeah, you're gross. The world is gross. Get over it. GET OVER IT, DILLON FRANCIS. *sniffes* Please, stop crying. She— *sniffles* It's okay, Dillon. She took my piñata! Your piñata set your house on fire. He sets—everything on fire— Have you ever stopped to think— —no— thinking is bad. Go get dressed. No, not today. You look like a bloated chicken nugget. —I used to like chicken nuggets. hey, Tofu daddy. This is sick. This is a sick bitch we're dealing with. I'm not dealing with anything, I quit. Quit, you can't quit. I just did. DEADMAU5 Okay, no more bodies. Ū Okay. No more bodies. DEADMAU5 Really? Ū —No. DEADMAU5 Goddammit, this is not a GAME. Ū It is a game, though—and I'm a damn good marksman. DEADMAU5 Dammit, you're right. Ū I'm always right. Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? I powered on my phone to find the digital clock exactly at 1:15, which had seemed to be creeping up again as a recurring theme, along with some other unsettling figurines—if it was a race against time, I was losing—and If, perhaps, a Holy War, I must have been some sort of Holy, as it had seemed the world's good graces had turned her back on me, and that faith dwindled more quickly in the cold than any other condition. Lay your head on my shoulder, Your cheek on my cheek, Wrap your arm round my waist, You can think what I think You can skate on thin ice You can sing what I sing And when the ice breaks; You can sink when I sink Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? It had been strange waves of everything—more than I was ready for and much more than intentionally took on, all things considered. I burned my tongue on piping hot oatmeal, trying to eat rather than write, as it seemed the time had come that I could no longer skip meals and properly function. Nearing thirty like a bullet—and at least metaphorically bleeding as if I had actually been shot, my heart and soul throbbing and gushing into a paralyzing twist or fears and woes, trapped in a foreign city with almost nothing to my name, lugging around my music equipment and very few belongings, which—when put away neatly even in the smallest room— seemed like almost nothing, but was certainly too much to carry around, especially alone. And I was, so very alone. Drake Bell and the Hollywood Spell My newest and strangest muse yet had again insisted on appearing into my dream world, for the third time, anyway—which seemed a cruel and almost disturbing subconscious attempt to conjur up what might have been the entirety of my energy to complete the 6th Season of Enter The Multiverse, at this point which had even interested me, reinvigorating my senses and at least partially restoring my faith in something, even if it was just Hollywood being Hollywood. But now, even miles away from Hollywoodland, and stranded far, far away with no conceivable way to find my way back, even if I did have a home there waiting for me—and there wasn't—there didn't seem to be a home anywhere for me at all, and with my money running well towards dry I had spent most the week dry heaving into panic attacks about where I would go, or what I would do/—especially dragging around all of my luggage and equipment, and while it was true my equipment could have easily found it's way into a pawn shop, to at least offset the impending homelessness by maybe a couple days, and a couple hundred dollars—it didn't seem quite worth it to sell my dream again, especially for the miserable existence of sharing a hostel room with whoever decided to snore or cough their way into my hellish realm of corporate slavery, lovelessness, and lack of privacy. Yes, my conciousness had summoned up this man into my dreamworld now three times, and for whatever reason, if there was one — I could consider it a charm. Had I not been working at the smokeshop what now seemed like ages ago, I might have forgotten entirely that such a person had ever existed—which I had, since the experience, for the record, at least tried to—but for some reason, disasterously couldnt; it had all awakened something serious and spiritual within my outer world, piquing my ultra conscious into a rare and bewildering curiosity that had done well to slay and murder the cat in all of its nine lives, and then some. It wasn't entirely on purpose, or without guilt that my mind seemed to inquisitively structure an entire hidden world and to form a strange and illicit bond with this fragile man creature, not that my social status or overwhelmingly average, unattractive, stranded and abandoned wastebasket of a demon, or diety whatever I was in whatever kind of light, would have much at all to do but suffer the result of having missed the bar by far, stumbling into the lower realms of the world by mere circumstance, on occasion, without notice. I was certainly thinking about it too much, and hating myself for it, a certain spark or inspiration for the Timmy Turner timelines met with the sudden flash of what may have even been a lost memory of not for all this Hollywood trauma, or dogma, whichever made sense—because none of it did, at all, besides to reverse what time had done by allowing me to forget my turbulent childhood, which couldn't matter anymore in this moment as it ever had; and though I was producing a fruitful workout at Equinox, squatting deeply into the Smith Machine and breathing deeply into my lower back, where the tension from the weight of my leftover skin met the pain in the whole of my torso, an apparent rush sent a splash of slobber out of the side of my mouth, my third eye a gaping and burning hole streaking heat across the middle of my forehead—all of a sudden the high of Nitrous Oxide filled my mind, if only for a moment—flung back into a memory nearly two decades old. “That's it.” I remembered thinking. “No more of this.” I sat down the can of keyboard cleaner on the bathroom floor. I had scared myself straight, long before I even knew what I was doing—and I didn't know at all, having been nine, or maybe 10–long before I would ever *want* to get high, not understanding that or why I needed to, anyway—or that getting “high” was what I was doing at all. No, at the time, it simply ‘felt really good', until it didn't—the particular memory which struck me in the dead center of the Equinox floor—and snapping back into my body, shaking myself out of it and leaning into the bar to stretch, taking in a deep breath and choking back an ocean of tears. “Idiot.” I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever Dreams Wil Be Dreams. Since departing LA, all my dreams had been strange, and I found myself growing more distant from myself, or from anything real at all, my dreams skewing into a horrid soundscape of rampant memories and false hopes of love. Finally able to seek refuge in meditation, I had been bombarded with images of Dillon Francis balancing some pretty little white girl in his lap—and though I couldn't quite unhinge the Amethyst from my possession, I had been giving it the distance I needed for something like peace of mind, without the actual peace itself at play. There had been quite the spell to break, and though it hadn't even been moderately broken—I at least knew now what magic I was dealing with. Dillon Hart Francis was a powerful magician—perhaps too powerful, and with that I took my strides into gatekeeping at the very least, since no peace could be made. I could love with a wholesome heart, but a tarnished mind and a gated soul would simply not outlast the infinite journey. Though I had been illicitly carfeful not to look him in the eye last we did meet, there was a remarkable force in place far beyond control—or at least my control— which kept such power from being apprehended; I had done my best to let go, knowing it was indeed a spell at play, and rather than a curse no need to worry or fear it's users intentions. Magic was a give-and-take, and so much had been at this point taken from me that the bruises of jealousy for whatever it was being waved about my psyche as ‘better than' could do no more than to rip the rest of my heart from its crevice as I pondered on what I might have done right, or might have done wrong—if there were such things. ‘White girls get all the love.' It was only true in my heart and my mind, and so it must have sat in my soul a certain way. I had never intended really to fall into what I had fallen into with Dillon Francis—not that it couldn't or wouldn't be undone, eventually, as I was inraveling myself into an unremarkable, unastonishing whisp — a fracture in time to do much less than even be though of, or forgotten. I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever A piece of my rock had shattered on the floor of the shower at Equinox—the only stone I kept for myself, and often forgotten about, as I did myself, not that i mattered much. It shattered unevenly into three pieces, one of which I left in the sauna, quickly before departing—and the other which I had dropped in Times Square, begrudgingly under the LCD American flag by which I felt betrayed: How could our nation not only allow, but create homelessness as a scare tactic to keep the working poor working as slaves, to saciate the wealthy's wants and needs? “Whatever.” I'm not going to hurt you, You can't hurt me anymore than I can hurt myself. I'm glad you know that. I don't know anything. Suicide fucking sucks. I know that. It might be time for me to go But I just want to let you know I still got love for you; And there's still hope; I left the door open I gotta go, you know, It's hopeless for some At the end of my rope —and it's a long way home, But it's home at the end It's home at the end of a long, lond road I took the wrong one, But at least now I know you I'll go on It seems that I still have a soul, somewhere I walked in on thin air, And now I'm here; I don't know where I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever LEGENDS EDDIE MURPHY opens the heavy Victorian style door, after three solid knocks from under the GLOVED HAND which lifts the golden-brass door knocker. To what do I owe the pleasure? WHOOPI GOLDBERG Business, not pleasure. -_- Well, which business. All of ‘em. [She gestures to pass through the doorway.] Please, come in. Coffee, or Tea? Coffee this late? [beat] Coffee. This is serious. You look serious. I've been—confined. Drake Bell, you son of a bitch. Oh, so you do know my name. I know all your names. So it is. So I am. — How'd you get in this? I've always been in this. What is “always”? How did you get in this? I am this. What a philosophy. Call it what you want. What if I don't. Then don't. See you on the other side. Someone once told me, the grass is much greener— on the other side. —and when I paid a visit, (It's possible I missed it) Seemed different, yet exactly the same. DILLON FRANCIS I didn't want it to end this way. I didn't want it to end. Well, it did. You let it. I had to. Just let go. No, I can't. Hah! What's so funny? You're fucking impossible. Nothing is “impossible” you said that. But you “can't” Let this go? Ah-hah. No. This here will keep slowly unwinding until there's no more. —and then what? There's no more. Damn. This is foul. Hm. Take a time out, Timmy. I'm a take a t-t-taxi I pay my t-t-taxes The actor and the actress. Oh, He's Big Hollywood; Doesn't Have a Job, But the work's real good – His lines are smooth and his days are long, Gotta make it right, For a whole lot of wrongs He's Big-Big Hollywood Doesn't have a job; But the work's real good Coming in hot, Like he's fresh out the box That's a real big nugget, With a whole lot of sauce. Stop. What. What is this. It's a song. This is awful. FUCK IT. I DON'T CARE. Damn, Oreos AND Ben & Jerry's?! IT'S DAIRY-FREE. Tf kind o f Oreos is that. They're GLuten FrEe. FUCK IT. Sunni, get a hold of yourself. YOU GET A HOLD OF YOUR SELF. Stop yelling from across the room. I'LL YELL WHERE I WANT. Fuck this job. FUCK YOU MARIANNE. AGGHH. AGGHHHHHHHHH. Fuck What. What's up. I need a smoke break. I'M GONNA RIP YOUR HEART OUT. YOU DOn'T HAVE A HEART. SHUT UP, DILLON FRANCIS. GOd. WHO INVITED HIM, ANYWAY. I didn't. NOBODY INVITED HIM. The inspiration to music hit at just the right and the wrong time—I had finally found my way to the butt machine, only after visiting every other floor and guessing incorrectly—only to make it to the machine in just enough time to realize that I was for some reason exhausted—perhaps having just blown my last fuse, realizing I was literally down to my last, few pennies— and, unknowing of how to escape the hole I had dug myself into, falling into a carful and unsecured ‘lust' with New York, surely never to fall in love with another city as I had LA, learning my lessons well, and knowing all too well that nowhere and no one like me was safe from homelessness in the US—now having proven itself to be a hostile entity, in a full police state. It didn't seem to matter, though, as I had narrowly missed my escape nearly on purpose, but not— it seemed something entirely outward was keeping me at bay and in the US, not that I had wanted to leave out of fear for my life as much as I wanted adventure and exploration—but either way was going nowhere at all fast, and running out or money even faster. “Fuck, I hate my life” I had probably over caffeinated, at least half the reason I couldn't budge to top speed, even blasting bangarang into my eardrums at nearly top volume—this day, it only emotionally weakened me, having demoted myself entirely from any sort of elite status, back into the realm of obsessive fandom, and perhaps even schizophrenia, we Dane Cook's shenanigans. Yeah, I'm tired and I need to take like ten shits. Just finish then. If I leave early I have to come back early. Well, go, then. Muscle fatigue, check Dehydration, check Psyche completely shattered Check. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

In this episode of Quah (Q & A), Sal, Adam & Justin answer four Pump Head questions drawn from last Sunday's Quah post on the @mindpumpmedia Instagram page. Mind Pump Fit Tip: When you are trying to bulk, the MOST important factor to consider is the digestibility of your food. (2:20) Why Big Tech is so annoying. (12:07) You're a fool if you think there is a left and right side. (18:54) Peter Linneman is pretty spot on. (24:25) How ChatGPT will force us to restructure how we educate kids. (27:15) The brilliant research on red-light therapy's effectiveness on wrinkles. (34:16) Strange News with Mind Pump: Bigfoot study, the mysterious mokele-mbembe, and finding new species. (36:52) How 1/3 of millionaires never made six figures. (45:11) The sad moment you realize your kids don't want Dad around anymore. (48:06) Mind Pump Recommends ‘Physical: 100' on Netflix. (53:36) Come see Mind Pump at NCI's Coaching Con this April! (59:48) A gorilla of prisoners. (1:02:38) Shout out to Jeff Dye. (1:03:38) #Quah question #1 - Are there benefits to taking a pre-workout supplement over something simple such as black coffee or an espresso shot? (1:05:25) #Quah question #2 - What exercise, if any, would the smith machine triumph over a barbell for an advanced lifter given they have access to both? (1:12:09) #Quah question #3 - What's the best way for women to get sculpted arms? (1:17:45) #Quah question #4 - When doing unilateral movements, should you switch the limb you start with? IE, the 1st set starts with the right side, set 2 starts with the left, and so on? (1:20:56) Related Links/Products Mentioned Visit Joovv for an exclusive offer for Mind Pump listeners! Mind Pump x NCI Coaching Con February Promotion: MAPS Performance, MAPS Aesthetic, and MAPS HIIT are all 50% off! **Code FEB50 at checkout** Mind Pump #1952: How To Bulk The Right Way This MAN Broke the Female Deadlifting Record, Woke Culture & The Internet! | Zuby on Mind Pump Mind Pump #1997: Zuby Goes Off On Woke Culture, Freedom, Abortion & Other Third Rail Topics The Daily Wire Steven Crowder Feuds With The Daily Wire Over $50 Million Offer Why did Nicole Arbour walk off Candace Owens' Daily Wire show? #1933 - Jordan Peterson - The Joe Rogan Experience The Linneman Letter | Linneman Associates 89 Percent of College Students Admit to Using ChatGPT for Homework Red Light Therapy for Skin Health | Joovv Data scientist suggests many Bigfoot sightings may be bear sightings Mokele-mbembe: a living dinosaur? The National Study of Millionaires Physical: 100 – everything you need to know about hit Squid Game-style reality series Watch Physical: 100 | Netflix Official Site Lone Survivor: The Eyewitness Account of Operation Redwing and the Lost Heroes of SEAL Team 10 – Marcus Luttrell The Strongman who Bent the Bars of his Cell to Escape the Nazis Visit Paleo Valley for an exclusive offer for Mind Pump listeners! **Promo code MINDPUMP15 at checkout for 15% discount** Mind Pump #1755: Insider Secrets Of The Supplement Industry With Mike Matthews Theanine — Health benefits, dosage, safety, side ... - Examine.com Visit Organifi Peak Power for the exclusive offer for Mind Pump listeners! Mind Pump #1417: How To Get Stubborn Arms To Grow MAPS Symmetry Mind Pump Podcast – YouTube Mind Pump Free Resources People Mentioned ZUBY (@zubymusic) Instagram Steven Crowder (@scrowder) Twitter Jordan Peterson (@jordan.b.peterson) Instagram Joe Rogan (@joerogan) Instagram  Alex Hormozi (@hormozi) Instagram Jason Phillips (@nci_ceo_jason) Instagram Jeff Dye (@jeffdye) Instagram   Mike Matthews (@muscleforlifefitness) Instagram

Dersimiz Fitness'ın bu bölümünde serbest ağırlık ve makinaların kas gelişimine etkileri konuşuldu. Her ikisinin de öne çıkan avantajları ve dezavantajları tartışıldı. Hangi ekipmanın hangi şartlarda nasıl kullanılması gerektiği detaylı bir şekilde ele alındı.(00:42) Serbest ağırlık ve makinaların kısa tarihçesi(04:34) Serbest ağırlığın makinalardan üstün olduğu yönler;Güç artışına etkileriHareket açıları Stabilite ve dengeye katkılarıKas yapımı ve yağ yakımındaki rolleri (10:50) Smith Machine'de yapılması uygun olan ve olmayan hareketler(15:00) Makinaların serbest ağırlıktan üstün olduğu yönler;Antrenman yoğunluğunu arttırabilme özelliği Spesifik bir kas grubunu izole edebilmeSinyal çeşitliliği, farklı stümüleSerbest ağırlıkla yapamadığın hareketleri yapabilme imkanıKası antrenmana hazırlamaAyarlanabilir direnç açısı Sosyal Medya: https://linktr.ee/dersimizfitness Email: bilgi@dersimizfitness.comHepinize güzel yorumlarınız için teşekkürler! --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/dersimiz-fitness/message

Our new segment "Sin bin" is back for another week. Super bowl prediction , UFC announcements, 283 preview, we take a look at the two huge EPL fixtures this weekend, would you rather questions and our best bets for the weekend. (0:00) Catch up (4:25) Bin list (20:08) Who can make the Super Bowl (25:40) UFC announcements (35:49) Live reaction to goats tip (37:16) UFC 283 (56:35) Liverpool v Chelsea (1:00:50) Arsenal v Man United (1:08:20) Would you rather (1:13:23) Best bets

Listen on Spotify, Apple Podcasts and most other Podcast Platforms. Search "Marc Lobliner Show" Buy the Just Lift It Shirt HERE! https://www.tigerfitness.com/collections/new-arrivals/products/just-lift-it-tee Buy MTS Nutrition Sniper Here! https://www.tigerfitness.com/products/mts-nutrition-sniper-preworkout Buy Ghost Energy Here: https://www.tigerfitness.com/products/ghost-energy-drink-12pack Nobody Cares Work Harder Shirt: https://www.tigerfitness.com/products/tf-ncwh-tee Buy Outright Bars HERE! https://www.tigerfitness.com/products/mts-nutrition-outright-bar?variant=39556275044410

Join our Stronger Than Your Boyfriend Facebook group to ask questions that we will address them on the podcast!This week:Q 1: Best movements to grow the glutes?Q 2: What should I eat before training?Q 3: Can I sub Smith Machine squats & deadlifts for regular squats and deadlifts?Tune in to hear our answers.Track: Upbeat Indie Rock [Rock Music] by MokkaMusic / Drive https://youtu.be/fYd5zprDwToMusic provided by "MokkaMusic" channel and https://inaudio.org

In this episode of Quah (Q & A), Sal, Adam & Justin coach four Pump Heads via Zoom. Mind Pump Fit Tip: NO ONE cares how much you can bench press on the Smith Machine or how much weight you can put on the leg press, DOESN'T COUNT! (4:12) New flavor alert from Organifi! (17:20) When it comes to plants, variety makes a HUGE difference. (23:03) Plant lives matter. (27:15) Are kids more cautious these days when it comes to driving? (29:21) Jessica's sneaky attempts to get Sal to lose weight. (39:19) How light has a profound effect on our sleep. (40:57) Why Mind Pump believes Digital Wellness is the next big thing. (46:56) #ListenerLive question #1 - What are your thoughts on the best approach to get in shape for my wedding? (54:36) #ListenerLive question #2 - Any advice on the best program for a new lifter to get into strength training? (1:07:12) #ListenerLive question #3 - How can I program my workouts around an unusual work schedule? (1:14:19) #ListenerLive question #4 - What are some ways I can maximize my client's success, without adding more to my schedule? (1:24:49) Related Links/Products Mentioned Ask a question to Mind Pump, live! Email: live@mindpumpmedia.com March Promotion: Limited Time Power Bundle! MAPS Strong and MAPS Powerlift for the low price of $79.99 Visit Organifi for the exclusive offer for Mind Pump listeners! **Promo code “MINDPUMP” at checkout** Visit NED for an exclusive offer for Mind Pump listeners! 'Scents' of alarm: Volatile chemical signals from damaged plants warn neighbors about herbivore attacks Close the blinds during sleep to protect your health Visit Felix Gray for an exclusive offer for Mind Pump listeners! Mind Pump #1775: Combatting The Detrimental Effects Of Blue Light With David Roger MAPS Macro Calculator MAPS Fitness Anabolic Stop Working Out And Start Practicing – Mind Pump Blog MAPS Starter Mind Pump #1770: How Sleep Helps Your Muscles Recover And Grow Mind Pump #1487: The Best Way For First Responders To Stay In Shape Rubberbanditz Resistance Band Set The Most Overlooked Muscle Building Principle – Mind Pump Blog Mind Pump Podcast – YouTube Mind Pump Free Resources People Mentioned Bret Contreras PhD (@bretcontreras1)  Instagram Mark Bell (@marksmellybell)  Instagram

In this episode Sal, Adam & Justin speak with powerlifter turned bodybuilder, Ben Pollack about the differences between the two sports. Why did he switch from powerlifting to the sport of bodybuilding? (2:47) What was the attraction to bodybuilding? (5:37) Bodybuilding is objective, right? (6:24) The mental challenge of switching focus in training. (8:42) The differences in the physique between the two lifters. (16:36) Did he feel he had a head start switching sports? (22:32) Do the stereotypes hold for bodybuilders? (24:32) Why MOST bodybuilders should be deadlifting. (27:06) What exercises, from bodybuilding, will he continue to incorporate into his training? (29:46) The contrast in nutrition transitioning from powerlifting to bodybuilding. (33:27) What did his PRs look like at his lowest and highest weight? (40:44) Why he loves the Smith Machine for chest work. (42:00) What can powerlifters learn from bodybuilders and vice versa? (44:21) The differences in drug use between the two sports. (46:20) Does he have any favorite anabolics? Least favorites? (51:14) The importance of monitoring your health. (54:35) Has the weight gain affected his sleep? (56:31) Has this change made an impact on his business? Any hate? (59:49) Which training style would be more conducive for longevity? (1:01:13) What does the future look like for Ben? (1:06:19) Becoming more open-minded, the benefits of sled training, and isometrics. (1:08:04) Related Links/Products Mentioned March Promotion: Limited Time Power Bundle! MAPS Strong and MAPS Powerlift for the low price of $79.99 Visit Paleo Valley for an exclusive offer for Mind Pump listeners! **Promo code “Mindpump15” at checkout for 15% discount** Mind Pump #865: Stan Efferding- The World's Strongest Bodybuilder Mi40 Nation Primobolan - Steroid .com Excess Tongue Fat Could Be Leading to Sleep Apnea, Scientists Find Mind Pump Podcast – YouTube Mind Pump Free Resources Featured Guest/People Mentioned Ben Pollack, Ph.D. (@phdeadlift)  Instagram Stan “Rhino” Efferding (@stanefferding)  Instagram Ronnie Coleman (@ronniecoleman8)  Instagram Derek Lunsford (@dereklunsford_)  Instagram Andrew Herbert (@herbietheluvbug)  Instagram John Haack (@bilbo_swaggins181)  Instagram Dave Tate (@underthebar)  Instagram

This week, Zipp cheers on the failing of the Big 3 in Brooklyn, brainstorms a hockey team name for Houston, and admits he was wrong about the MLB lockout leading to games being cancelled.

Today, Jennifer and Meredith discuss The Smith Machine, shedding light on this versatile piece of equipment.  Topics discussed: The history of the machine and why it was invented Who this could be beneficial for and when and what circumstances could it be beneficial for them How it's been modify and how we can modify it for our benefit The main structural points and maintenance of The Smith Machine The place where the Smith machine shines Jennifer's and Meredith's favorite exercise to do on the Smith Machine   Episode page: https://www.thinkfitbefitpodcast.com/smith-machine-part-1   Jennifer Schwartz: Website Instagram Twitter   Meredith Mack Website and app Instagram   ADVERTISE WITH US: Reach dedicated exercise professionals, future trainers, and exercise enthusiasts all over the world. Send us an email to get the conversation started, hello@thinkfitbefitpodcast.com SUBSCRIBE TO THE NEWSLETTER: Dive deeper with us. Sign up here. We offer a unique view on muscles, portals to new ways to respect the body and health.  Learning and ‘enjoy the process' is a buzzy term.  We take learning seriously and want to take our listeners on that journey with us and through us. SUBSCRIBE: Subscribe to the podcast to make sure you never miss an episode. WRITE A REVIEW: Leave us a rating and a written review on iTunes so more listeners can find us. JOIN THE CONVERSATION: If you have a question or a topic you want us to address, send us an email here. You can also connect to us through Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram.

Today Sandy Webster catches up with the First Lady of Fitness Elaine LaLanne, who was married to the iconic Jack LaLanne, the Godfather of Modern Fitness. “LaLa,” as she is affectionately known to her fitness family, has joined the team at IDEA World Convention every year since 2011 to present the IDEA Jack LaLanne Award, a prestigious accolade that honors her late husband's impact and example on the fitness industry and on the world.  At 95, LaLa is still as energetic and fiery as ever. She has a lot to say about the unrealized potential of our industry. Among many topics, they discuss the Gyms Act and the many “firsts” Jack innovated during his career (he was the first “virtual” trainer on television; he invented the Smith Machine and selectorized equipment; and he always put a premium focus on the impact of nutrition and exercise as complementary). Connect with Elaine LaLanne Website: jacklalanne.com FB: Elaine LaLanne IG: @jackandelaine_lalanne Connect with Sandy Webster FB: Sandy Todd Webster IG: sandytoddwebster LI: Sandy Todd Webster TW: @fitnesseditor IDEAfit+ Membership: Enjoy unlimited CECs, IDEA Fitness Journal, business tools, resources and much more! The IDEAfit PRO SHOW is hosted by Sandy Todd Webster, Editor in Chief, IDEA Publications, ideafit.com; executive produced by Jordan Leeds; produced and engineered by Michael Hilding. Copyright 2021 by Outside Interactive, Inc. All rights reserved. IDEA Health & Fitness Association is the world's leading organization of fitness and wellness professionals and has been for more than 39 years. We deliver world-class content and continuing education to fitness professionals, business owners and allied health professionals via our publications, including the award-winning Fitness Journal; our fitness, business and nutrition conferences; and hundreds of streaming videos and online courses available on ideafit.com. Additionally, with IDEA FitnessConnect, we host the largest national industry-wide directory, linking over 275,000 fitness professionals to more than 40 million consumers. Through IDEA professionals in over 80 countries, we Inspire the World to Fitness™!

Ben Smith talks through everything from moving around as part of a military family before settling in Virginia and opening CrossFit Krypton to winning the Games in 2015 and coaching Laura Horvath to second place in 2021 as well as his aspirations for 2022.Support the show (https://www.patreon.com/coffeepodsnwods)

In this episode, Danny answers listeners questions.---Thanks For Listening!---RESOURCES/COACHING: I am all about education and that is not limited to this podcast! Feel free to grab a FREE guide (Nutrition, Training, Macros, Etc!) HERE! Interested in Working With Coach Danny and His One-On-One Coaching Team? Click HERE! Want To Have YOUR Question Answered On an Upcoming Episode of DYNAMIC DIALOGUE? You Can Submit It HERE!Want to Support The Podcast AND Get in Better Shape? Grab a Program HERE!----SOCIAL LINKS: Sign up for the trainer mentorship HEREFollow Coach Danny on INSTAGRAMFollow Coach Danny on TwitterFollow Coach Danny on FacebookGet More In-Depth Articles Written By Yours' Truly HERE!

Jason Smith recently punched his tickets to his third CrossFit Games by winning the Fittest in Cape Town semi final. We chat about (very) recent changes to travel for the Games; jobs; age; competition; challengers to the crown and his plans for future competition which may even include masters. Support the show (https://www.patreon.com/coffeepodsnwods)

Welcome back to Chat Sh*t Get Fit, Chatting W/ PTs. This week we sit down with another new addition to the Primal team. Hannah is an extremely knowledgeable coach who takes a compassionate evidence-based approach to coaching. As you'll hear it's like a dream come true for Tom as he finds someone who is literally him In the female form. Bill is basically the third wheel in this one!    We discuss her top 3 gym pet peeves, including bicep curling right in front of the dumbbell rack/mirror, some madness with the smith machine, and those of you who excessively scream in the gym. We then find out about her journey into becoming the amazing coach she is today and this leads to numerous rabbit holes where Tom and Hannah share their thoughts on things from pain to madness of excessive warm-ups.    We finish with our secret questions and Bill was not happy at her incredible ability to answer what were clearly jovial questions in an evidence-based intelligent format. It was a delight to have her on the podcast and we are incredibly fortunate to have someone as "switched on" as her on the Primal team.    If you want to join our team and work with an exceptional coach to transform your health, fitness & wellness then head here to book a consultation. Due to the nature of how full-on 1-1 coaching is she only has limited slots so act fast and get ready to see some incredible results.    Want to support the Podcast? We have a discount code (PRIMAL10) for a fantastic coffee brand. Cannonball Coffee. Great tasting and super powerful which WILL give you a boost in the gym. We spoke to Cannonball Coffee on a previous podcast and you can listen to that here to see why we are such fans. So if you want to support us in some small way and get some great coffee head to cannonballcoffee.co.uk and use code PRIMAL10 for 10% off any order.   New to the show? Head back to episode 1 "Let's Chat, Covid & Fitness" where we give an introduction into who we are and talk about the current state of ourselves and the fitness industry during this covid pandemic   Find us on Instagram @bill_primal @coachtomreardon @hannahmurphyfitness   Website: www.chatshitgetfit.com Emai: csgfpodcast@gmail.com   Study Mentioned Strength training is as effective as stretching for improving range of motion: A systematic review and meta-analysis.

Overrated / underrated is a new segment where I break down whether different parts of fitness and nutrition are over hyped or not hyped enough! Check out what I have to say about some of your favorite things: Pistol Squats Box Jumps Battle Ropes Diet Soda Waist Trainers & Sweat Suits 10k Steps Smith Machines ___________ WATCH This Podcast On Youtube Here: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCerchi4_C77ZJAJqCiXYlKA And make sure to subscribe ;) ____________ Apply For A Free Strategy Call With Coach Jumha Here: https://www.stoopid.fit/strategycall Get 15% Off Top Notch Nutrition Supplements Here: https://www.topnotchnutrition.com/discount/stoopidfit Get 15% Off Strong Coffee Company With Code "STOOPIDFIT" Here: https://strongcoffeecompany.com/?ref=-AdnXfp82ojl ___________ Get Your Free Copy Of "THE NUTRITION MANUAL" Your thought Free Approach To Designing Your Perfect Diet Here: https://www.thenutritionmanual.com ___________ Follow Coach Jumha On Instagram Here: https://www.instagram.com/stoopid.fit Follow Coach Jumha On TikTok Here: https://www.tiktok.com/@stoopidfit?lang=en ___________

We're hopping on the trend.Today, the homie (Chaz) and I dig into some overrated/underrated. Enjoy! Follow Chaz on IG here, and check out his podcast Lost & Lifting Talk here.Click here now to apply for online coaching with our team.

This week Joe continues his wildly popular/polarizing segment from last week - Overrated/Underrated! Topics include: Arm Day for Athletes; Shampoo; Walking/LISS Cardio; Narrow Stance Squatting for Athletes; Training to Failure; Cannabis for Recovery; Burpees; Barefoot training; Garage Gyms; Knee Sleeves, Elbow Sleeves & Belts; Static Stretching; TRT; Marriage; Fructose/Fruit; Ranch Dressing; "Girl Push-ups"; Smith Machine; Expensive Workout Attire; Post Workout "Anabolic Window" & More! *For Timestamps from this episode goto: www.IndustrialStrengthShow.com *Today's sponsor = HelloWater [Use promo code "defranco" to Save 10% on your 1st order!]

This week Joe continues his wildly popular/polarizing segment from last week - Overrated/Underrated! Topics include: Arm Day for Athletes; Shampoo; Walking/LISS Cardio; Narrow Stance Squatting for Athletes; Training to Failure; Cannabis for Recovery; Burpees; Barefoot training; Garage Gyms; Knee Sleeves, Elbow Sleeves & Belts; Static Stretching; TRT; Marriage; Fructose/Fruit; Ranch Dressing; "Girl Push-ups"; Smith Machine; Expensive Workout Attire; Post Workout "Anabolic Window" & More! *For Timestamps from this episode goto: www.IndustrialStrengthShow.com *Today's sponsor = HelloWater [Use promo code "defranco" to Save 10% on your 1st order!]

Q+A! Today, we answer some listener questions...→ Tips for those who only have access to smith machine for heavy lifts (dead/squat/press)?→ I've got a client that drops weight all week. Then Sunday to Monday sees a 1-3lb spike. Net average for the week has him in a deficit so he's losing weight each week, BUT he's gonna lose his mind seeing the fluctuation happen each week.Any ideas other than stress, carbs, water, salt, or improper tracking that could cause this?→ What’s your take on the new p ratio info?Enjoy!Apply for Online Coaching with our team: https://bairfit.wufoo.com/forms/zsf536l1mmy19i/

Felt like there are more to cover. Axe & Sledge supplements rock link here: https://lddy.no/um3l use MBOL10 for 10% off

When it comes to building muscle, your body doesn't bias one exercise over the other — we do that on our own. We have people shaming those who use the Smith Machine or for using dumbbells instead of barbells, yet our muscles only respond to stimulus, so they don't care about what method is used (or anything at all). So, I wanted to bust some of these myths out there and try to set the record straight for choosing exercises for building muscle. The two main criteria I looked at were 1) the exercise's potential to accumulate volume and/or total work with minimal fatigue and 2) the potential injury risk from the exercise itself and from the lifter's ego. I think my answers may surprise some of you... hope you enjoy! WATCH this Minisode on YouTube: https://youtu.be/Ksetbo9MYxM Connect with Matt: [Free] 30-Day Ultimate Physique Development Manual: https://bit.ly/UltimatePhysiqueDevelopment Hire Matt For Coaching: https://mattmcleod.org/online-coaching Instagram: @mattmcleod6 Website: https://mattmcleod.org **PS: If you could rate and review the podcast, it would mean the world to me and it would help get the word out to others just like us so we can continue building this amazing, one-of-a-kind community.** ---- Produced by: David Margittai | In Post Media Website: https://www.inpostmedia.com Email: david@inpostmedia.com Social: @_margittai © 2020 Matt McLeod

In this episode of The Poecast, Adam answers a question about the the pros and cons of smith machine squats. Please subscribe, rate, and review the show! Do you have any questions for The Poecast? Give Adam a follow on instagram (adam_poehlmannfit). Every Sunday Adam will post a question box on his instagram story. That is your green light to ask any questions you may have regarding health, fitness, nutrition, life, etc. heck, ask whatever you'd like! You can find Adam and Poehlmann Fitness on instagram (adam_poehlmannfit), Facebook (facebook.com/poehlmannfitness), or the web (www.poehlmannfitness.com). Do you want to boost your metabolism, increase your strength and muscle, AND lose body fat? Check out Premier Coaching at Poehlmann Fitness (www.poehlmannfitness.com/premier-coaching). With 24/7 access to Adam as your personal coach, along with custom-tailored training programs and nutrition protocols, you'll be able to reach your goals and maintain your results like never before.

In episode 78 of the IoT For All Podcast, Grabango’s CTO Ryan Smith joins us to talk about the role of machine vision and IoT in the future of grocery stores, including some of the technology that makes their solution possible, the effect retail automation will have on employees, and where he sees the role of computer vision in the future.Ryan Smith is a leading expert in artificial intelligence, computer vision, and distributed systems. Ryan got his start in IoT working at a biotech company, shipping robots - when he started looking into the technology to collect data, he saw the rise of the new IoT market. After that, he joined a startup focused on IoT deployments for robotics and manufacturing. Now, at Grabango, Ryan is helping grocery stores eliminate the checkout line.To kick off the podcast, Ryan gave us some background on Grabango. Grabango attempts to solve the problem of lines at the grocery store by automating the experience, focusing on large-scale grocery store chains. They leverage machine learning and computer vision to identify items as they’re placed in the customer’s basket and creates a frictionless checkout experience.Ryan said it’s been a difficult problem to solve - grocery stores tend to have “tens to hundreds to thousands of SKUs spread across a large square foot.” Tracking all of those products and correctly identifying them as they enter carts can prove challenging, involving a large number of cameras in the store and neural networks and computer vision models operating on the edge, bringing all of that data into play. Solutions like this not only eliminate the frustration of queuing, by tracking products as they leave the shelves, stores would be able to receive out of stock alerts in real-time, better plan inventory, and gain insight into customer traffic to improve store layouts and identify bottlenecks.While there have been a number of factors making solutions like this possible, some of the big contributors, Ryan said, have been the decreased cost of computer vision and edge computing, as well as the recent need for grocery stores to improve efficiency amidst the COVID-19 pandemic. As grocery stores are an essential business, Ryan said many have been struggling to keep up with the demand presented by quarantine.Switching to what solutions like Grabango’s mean for the future of retail, Ryan said that stores can expect to decrease shrinkage and free up employees to contribute to the user experience. By tracking items as they leave the shelf, rather than once they get to the cashier, it takes the pressure off of cashiers to catch hidden items or to carefully watch multiple self-checkout stations at once. “Cashiers are human,” Ryan said, “and they get busy sometimes. They may not always be perfect.”And as far as eliminating jobs? While Ryan said that the discussion always comes up when automation enters a new industry, he said that he’s seen stores move employees into more valuable positions with the introduction of these new technologies. “Retailers are currently having trouble staffing,” Ryan said, “so they’re more concerned about keeping up than removing employees. This is an efficiency improvement for the people they already have.”Interested in connecting with Ryan? Reach out to him on Linkedin!About Grabango: Grabango is the leading provider of checkout-free technology for existing, large-scale store chains. Grabango delivers a next-generation shopper experience and is the only enterprise-class, checkout-free solution on the market today. Key Questions and Topics from this Episode:(01:08) Introduction to Ryan Smith(02:27) Introduction to Grabango(03:37) What exactly is the anatomy of a smart store?(05:26) How does a smart store benefit the behind-the-scenes processes for grocery stores?(06:25) Have you seen any change in demand as a result of COVID-19?(07:01) How have recent technological changes lent to a solution like this becoming possible?(08:24) What is the role of edge computing in the smart store?(09:49) How does all of this work for a grocery store that has multiple locations? Especially when looking at the amount of data stored and managed at the edge?(10:39) Can you speak a little to the importance and the rise in contactless payment, and how that plays into the features of a smart store?(11:42) How is computer vision important to the user experience side?(12:15) How do you address concerns about increased theft?(14:25) What’s the main problem your customers are trying to solve?(15:18) How do you address concerns about the elimination of jobs out of grocery stores?(16:35) At a high level, what does the future of IoT look like with computer vision as it becomes more widely adopted?(19:04) What does a typical customer engagement look like?(22:12) What are the greatest challenges you face during a deployment?(24:53) How much is machine learning coming into play in a system like this?(26:12) Any upcoming news at Grabango?

This episode is dedicated to the squat. If you're not squatting, we think you should be. We give some tips and tricks, ways to progress towards a barbell Squats, and why we think it's a great movement. Also, be sure to check out the dad joke at the very end! It's a zinger! Join The NXTXLVL Show Private Forum! https://www.facebook.com/groups/199807844615950/?ref=share Follow us on Instagram: @thenxtlvlshow @jonalva7 @primeandglory @mikenillespt Timestamps: (Intro) Jonathan sings for the last time, our holiday weekend, and eating habits (7:41) Thoughts on overall health during the pandemic (17:51) Exercise for better health (22:43) Squats! Gabe has an update (26:25) Squatting is a skill (29:31) Squats are an extremely useful movement (30:38) Variations and progression (33:04) Deep squats and Gabe tries CrossFit (35:25) Squats hurt your knees? (38:14) Why the Smith Machine doesn't count (42:25) How to progress towards a barbell squat (47:00) A tip for bar path (50:46) Unilateral work for imbalances and other issues (51:51) Squatting over 60! Wow! (57:05) Outro - Dad joke, and Mike is getting a tattoo

In this episode of Quah (Q & A), Sal, Adam & Justin answer Pump Head questions about whether squats and lunges are bad for your knees, squatting on a Smith machine, how to setup and execute a close grip bench press, and using net carbs when counting your macros. XFL comeback date is set. Will the guys be watching? (5:54) Old ‘fit' awesome looking people. (8:37) Do you communicate with the intent to impress or influence? (14:34) Old people rage stories. (17:03) Why is Gwyneth Paltrow selling a candle that smells like a certain body part? Would the guys buy it? (21:57) Sex after kids. (28:22) Mind Pump reminisces on Rush and their drummer Neil Peart. (34:56) Sal's a big ‘wing' guy. (37:52) Tesla hitting new highs in the stock market! (40:45) Can a wristband tell you what you should and shouldn't eat based on your DNA? (42:47) #Quah question #1 – Are squats and lunges bad for your knees? (47:03) #Quah question #2 – Is squatting on a Smith machine still beneficial if your gym doesn't have a free weight squat rack? (54:13) #Quah question #3 – Apart from the hand position, how are the setup and execution a close grip bench press and a standard bench press different? (1:00:19) #Quah question #4 – Can you explain net carbs? Is this even important to consider when counting your macros? (1:03:11) People Mentioned Hunter McIntyre (@huntthesheriff)  Instagram Jason Phillips (@jasonphillipsisnutrition)  Instagram Adam Ray (@adamraycomedy)  Instagram   Related Links/Products Mentioned January Promotion: MAPS HIIT ½ off! **Code “HIIT50” at checkout** Grace and Frankie | Netflix Official Site The Purpose Driven Life: What on Earth Am I Here For? - Book by Rick Warren Are you a Mind Pump Listener? Get NCI's Top Selling Thyroid MASTERCLASS...for free! Gwyneth Paltrow's got a $75 "smells like my vagina" candle Rush Drummer Neil Peart Dead at 67 - Rolling Stone Visit Butcher Box for this month's exclusive Mind Pump offer! Musk nears $346 million payday as Tesla market value soars DnaNudge wristband tells you what you should and shouldn't eat The ONLY Way You Should Be Doing Lunges! (Build GREAT Legs) - Mind Pump TV How to Box Squat to Improve Your Squat Form – Mind Pump TV The Only Way You Should Be Doing Bulgarian Split Squats! (BUTT GROWTH) - Mind Pump TV Mind Pump Free Resources

This week Joe continues his Instagram Q&A from last week. Topics covered include: 1) How to incorporate banded squats, bench presses and deadlifts into the SB911 program 2) How to train high school athletes who also have to train at school with their team 3) The craziest (and most impactful) DM Joe ever received 4) How long should you coach before you start selling products? 5) How to run a faster 2k 6) How to prevent clients from getting bored (and "going through the motions") during their warm-up 7) Are there any positive aspects of the Smith Machine? 8) Training considerations for clients diagnosed with high blood pressure 9) New seminar/product collaboration with Jim "Smitty" Smith coming in 2020! 10)  How to prevent clients from questioning your credibility and results *For Timestamps & Important Links mentioned in this episode goto www.IndustrialStrengthShow.com

This week Joe continues his Instagram Q&A from last week. Topics covered include: 1) How to incorporate banded squats, bench presses and deadlifts into the SB911 program 2) How to train high school athletes who also have to train at school with their team 3) The craziest (and most impactful) DM Joe ever received 4) How long should you coach before you start selling products? 5) How to run a faster 2k 6) How to prevent clients from getting bored (and "going through the motions") during their warm-up 7) Are there any positive aspects of the Smith Machine? 8) Training considerations for clients diagnosed with high blood pressure 9) New seminar/product collaboration with Jim "Smitty" Smith coming in 2020! 10)  How to prevent clients from questioning your credibility and results *For Timestamps & Important Links mentioned in this episode goto www.IndustrialStrengthShow.com

In this episode, we’re answering listener questions! Eriq and I discuss: * My fitness goals * The importance of goals * Functional strength * Sustainable fitness * Following a program * Active recovery & rest days * Smith Machine vs. Barbell * Lessons for new coaches * Intuitive eating * “Rules” for nutrition * Specific diets and what they teach you * Struggles after my eating disorder * Making up for what you ate in the gym * Eating out * Cooking oils & butter * Adrenal health * How Eriq & I met * Our first date * Things we love to do as a couple If you have questions you want answered on the podcast, submit them on social media! Find me on Instagram @caseymzav Check out the podcast website: howdoyoufeelpodcast.com

On this episode, Kelly's trainer Matt joins her to talk about her fitness journey, and fitness in general and why everyone should work out. We recorded this at the Anytime Fitness location in Farmington Hills, MI.

Todays episode covers 3 questions from each area of discussion; Training, Mindset & Nutrition Nutrition Do I trust Fitbits to give accurate calorie expenditure How to lose weight very quickly How important are protein bars Training Are Front Squats or Backs Squats better for legs Is the Smith Machine worth using Are olympic lifts essential to be good at fitness Mindset Is toxic masculinity still in commercial gyms How to mentally recover from falling off the wagon How to fit fitness into a busy life All these questions came in from the people who follow me on instagram @david.birtwistle If you want your questions answered then follow me and slide into that DM. Please be a legend and leave a 5* review to help grow this podcast to reach more people. If you're looking for more personalised information then feel free to check out my website

Viele Fragen mit noch mehr Antworten! Gebe hier eine Bewertung für den Kraftraum Podcast ab: https://damienzaid.de/Bewertung Werde Teil des Kraftraum als Patron: https://damienzaid.de/patreon Unterstütze den Podcast mit einer Spende: http://bit.ly/KraftraumSpende Kaufe Merch und supporte den Podcast: http://bit.ly/KraftraumShop Lass dich von mir coachen: http://bit.ly/KraftraumCoaching Folge mir auf Instagram: http://bit.ly/KraftraumInstagram Abonniere den Kraftraum auf YouTube: http://bit.ly/KraftraumYoutube Zeitmarker: 00:01:31 Sprünge für die Steigerung der Kniebeuge? Wie programmieren? 00:02:24 Tipps für den Betreuer beim ersten Wettkampf vom Athleten und Betreuer. Wie am besten unterstützen? Was wünsche ich mir von einem Betreuer auf einem Wettkampf? 00:05:34 Wann kommt dein Merch wieder? 00:07:21 Unter welchen Umständen und/oder wie würdest du mit Stoff anfangen? 00:11:54 SBD Handgelenksbandagen hart oder weich? 00:12:44 Worauf achten bei einer Langhantel fürs CrossFit und Gewichtheben? 00:14:56 Schafft man bei einer Low Bar Kniebeuge immer mehr Gewicht als bei High Bar? 00:16:13 Habe durch den Podcast richtig Lust auf Powerlifting bekommen, aber habe keine Ahnung wie ich damit anfangen soll und kenne niemanden der in die Richtung Ambitionen hat. 00:18:56 Was ist der am meisten unterschätzte Faktor für Erfolg im Krafttraining? 00:20:52 Isst du zwischen den Versuchen bei einem Wettkampf? Wenn ja, was? 00:23:07 Bankdrücken Assistenzübungen die stärker machen? Überkopfdrücken oder Volumen? 00:25:04 Was hältst du von PITT Force für Hypertrophie? 00:27:42 Kann man bei dir am OSP ein Praktikum machen, oder hast du Empfehlungen in Richtung Athletiktraining? 00:29:08 Kniebeugen nicht unter parallel okay, wenn man kein Powerlifting machen möchte? 00:30:48 Was mach ich beruflich und welche Sportler betreue ich? 00:32:43 Wie findest du die Produkte von Dropshot? Sinnvoll oder unnötig? 00:35:58 Sind Sumoringer nur fett? 00:37:12 Software zum erstellen von Trainingsprogrammen? 00:41:38 Schleimbeutelentzündung, was hilft? 00:42:06 Wie Schnelligkeit für obere Extremitäten messen? 00:43:14 Amerikanische S&C Zertifizierungen 00:45:00 Ist die Smith Machine für irgendwas zu gebrauchen? 00:47:32 Kettlebell Swings für Cardio oder zum “Kalorien verbrauchen”? 00:49:52 Gutes Krafttraining für Kampfsportler bei 3x die Woche Kampfsporttraining? 00:51:36 Smolov Jr als Peaking für einen Wettkampf geeignet? 00:52:22 Anthropometrie und Powerlifting 00:55:10 Rumpftraining für Kraftsportler? Statisch (planks) oder dynamisch (loaded carries)? 00:58:04 Mikrobiom 00:59:27 Extremes Kaloriendefizit mit intensivem Kraftsport bei Wachstumpsphase? 01:00:48 Warum machst du Touch and Go Deadlifts? Wann macht es Sinn sie ins Training einzubauen? 01:03:00 Wendler 5/3/1 01:04:07 Nach Verletzungen machen was geht, oder extra langsam anfangen? 01:04:46 Kniebeugen und Kreuzheben mit gerissenem Außenband im Sprunggelenk? 01:05:31 Wie optimal als Anfänger im Kreuzheben steigern? 01:06:12 Ab wann sollte man einen Gürtel nutzen? 01:07:49 Welche Leistungsdiagnostik ist für dich sinnvoll für Ausdauer, Schnelligkeit & Kraft?

The Drop Set – Episode 136 Today I spent way too long going over a yard/weekend update and dissecting music suggestions from listeners before getting into the meat and potatoes of the episode – talking about plant-based proteins and a couple of great questions concerning gym equipment. Also, it's raffle time! A new winner is… Read More » The post The Drop Set – Episode 136: Plant-Based Proteins, Smith Machine Mechanics appeared first on Five Starr Physique.

The Drop Set – Episode 136 Today I spent way too long going over a yard/weekend update and dissecting music suggestions from listeners before getting into the meat and potatoes of the episode – talking about plant-based proteins and a couple of great questions concerning gym equipment. Also, it's raffle time! A new winner is announced… Go vote in the new poll up at TheDropSet.com also! 0:00 – Intro, New... The post The Drop Set – Episode 136: Plant-Based Proteins, Smith Machine Mechanics appeared first on Five Starr Physique.

Is the Smith machine worthwhile, Punch Out!! and other old-school Nintendo games, why you should consider changing training programs you read in M&F, and more.

Warning: If you can't handle jokes about yeast infections, you may want to steer clear of this episode. What is Eat, Train, Progress, and how did it come into existence? That's the key question we tackle in this episode. However - in typical 'us' style, we deviate. Patrick also shares details of that time in his early 20s when he put 500lbs on the Smith Machine and tried to squat it, and we talk a little bit about when goal-setting goes too far.  Want to support the podcast? We'd love for you to subscribe/follow the podcast. If you can leave a rating on your platform, please do so - it really helps other people discover the #positivebenefits of ETP Radio. Tag us on Instagram - we're @eattrainprogress (Patrick) and @lawrence_judd... don't forget to use #greasymantits... Join the Eat, Train, Progress Facebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1757960127817969/  

In "Are Machines Good For Working Out?" Rachael & Kelsea discuss how workout machines do more bad than good. It's a little known fact that machines at the gym are building unstable, injury prone bodies. Designed to give new gym goers a feeling of comfort, but in reality resulting in frustration and failure. This episode will be valuable to you if you've ever asked yourself the following questions... 1) What workout machines are most effective? 2) Should I use the Smith Machine? 3) Are workout machines safe? 4) What are the most effective ways to work out? 5) What is the best workout routine? For workout programming that is always constantly varied be sure to check out TTSL Daily. The TTSL Podcast is brought to you by Constantly Varied Gear.

2019's first Ask a Cycling Coach Podcast Episode is all about finding the right training, sticking to it through challenges and optimizing your performance along the way to your next A Race. Tune in live and bring your questions! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   TOPICS COVERED IN THIS EPISODE   A guide to picking the right training plan Most important factors in deciding how to train for a race Best training plans for every type of racing How to shorten a training plan How to adjust a training plan for time off Why cross-training may actually make you a slower cyclist Pacing without power How to use saunas in your training Are ice baths actually beneficial? Is Bikram Yoga a good idea for cyclists? Signs that you need to include gym work in your training How to manage weight like a cyclist More training questions answered here: bit.ly/Training-Questions-Help-Center   ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   LINKS MENTIONED IN THE PODCAST   Sweet Spot Base 2: https://www.trainerroad.com/cycling/plans/148-sweet-spot-base-mid-volume-ii Baxter Workout: https://www.trainerroad.com/cycling/workouts/1261-baxter Dr. Rhonda Patrick: https://www.foundmyfitness.com/episodes/biohacker-summit-2016 Smith Machine: https://www.fitnessfactory.com/home-gyms/smith-machines/   How to Fix Knee Injuries for Cyclists: https://forum.trainerroad.com/t/how-to-fix-knee-injuries-for-cyclists/6166     Food Scale: https://www.amazon.com/AmazonBasics-Stainless-Digital-Batteries-Included/dp/ B06X9NQ8GX/ref=sr_1_1_sspa?ie=UTF8&qid=1546536343&sr=8-1-spons&keywords=food+scale&psc=1     Bonelli Park XC course: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g3GQLkL29ag Fontana XC course: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ABI7kDozhC4   ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   THE ONLY PODCAST DEDICATED TO MAKING YOU A FASTER CYCLIST   Each week Coach Chad Timmerman, Coach Jonathan and TrainerRoad’s CEO Nate Pearson gather to answer queries submitted from athletes around the globe, as well as dish about their latest training experiments, discoveries and tips.   Subscribe to the Ask a Cycling Coach Podcast: www.trainerroad.com/podcast   ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   ABOUT TRAINERROAD — CYCLING’S MOST EFFECTIVE TRAINING SYSTEM   TrainerRoad makes cyclists faster. Athletes get structured indoor workouts, science-backed training plans, and easy-to-use performance analysis tools to reach their goals   Get started today: bit.ly/Get-Faster-TrainerRoad Download the TrainerRoad app: bit.ly/Download-TrainerRoad Browse training plans: bit.ly/TR-Training-Plans   ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   FOLLOW TRAINERROAD   Facebook: www.facebook.com/TrainerRd Instagram: www.instagram.com/TrainerRoad Twitter: www. twitter.com/TrainerRoad Strava Club: www.strava.com/clubs/TrainerRoad  

Organifi Quah! In this episode of Quah, sponsored by Organifi (organifi.com/mindpump, code "mindpump" for 20% off), Sal, Adam & Justin answer Pump Head questions about how to naturally improve libido in young men, benefits to using the smith machine, their opinion on debt and how to keep going when someone gets burnt out in their career. The Realization and Accepting that you are Getting Older. (5:28) Adam Making Poor Fashion Choices?? (10:40) Relationships, Going to Bed at the Same Time & MORE. (15:20) SIBO Treatment with Herbs Is as Effective as Antibiotics. (19:55) Can Sex Toys be Hacked??!! (26:11) Artificially Creating Activity? Garmin and Disney Partner Up. (29:55) For older people, weight training is more important than cardio exercise: study. (33:37) LeBron James, Other Celebrities Team Up to Start Wellness Brand ‘Ladder'. (37:35) How Technology will Inevitably Change the Legally of Laws. NBA Signs First Data Partnerships for In-Game Gambling, War on Drugs & MORE. (44:05) Health IQ Making Big Waves!! (56:12) Do Allergies Protect Us? (58:30) #Quah question #1 - How to naturally improve libido in young men? (1:03:35) #Quah question #2 – Are their benefits to using the smith machine? (1:14:12) #Quah question #3 – What is your opinion on debt? Did you take out any loans for the business? (1:22:25) #Quah question #4 - How to keep going when someone gets burnt out in their career? (1:34:21) People Mentioned: Dr. Michael Ruscio (@drruscio)  Instagram Robb Wolf (@dasrobbwolf)  Instagram Cory Schlesinger (@schlesstrength)  Instagram Links/Products Mentioned: November Promotion: MAPS Anywhere ½ off!! **Ending at Midnight 11/30 – Code “WHITE50” at checkout** MAPS Fitness Products Health IQ **Free Quote** Health IQ and Protective Life Launch First Life Insurance Offering Tailored for Diabetics Who Live a Healthy Lifestyle Organifi **Code “mindpump” for 20% off** Greg Lauren - Grandad-Collar Panelled Distressed Denim And Checked Cotton-Twill Shirt Kith NYC SIBO Treatment with Herbs Is as Effective as Antibiotics Mind Pump Episode 815: Going Deeper with Sex with Emily ‘Panty Buster' sex toys can be hacked to ‘remotely pleasure people without their consent', researchers claim Garmin® and Disney bring motivation and imagination to the playground with the introduction of the vívofit® jr. 2 activity tracker for kids featuring Disney, Star Wars and Marvel Lifting weights is better for your heart than cardio: study Lose fat, preserve muscle: Weight training beats cardio for older adults LeBron James, Other Celebrities Team Up to Start Wellness Brand ‘Ladder' NBA Signs First Data Partnerships for In-Game Gambling People Are Threatening to Report Sex Workers to the IRS in #ThotAudit Black Mirror | Netflix Official Site Do Allergies Protect Us? The NoFap Phenomenon | Psychology Today Seinfeld | The Contest | Master of your domain Mind Pump Episode 907: Cory Schlesinger Mind Pump Free Resources

In this episode, I share my most recent fuck-ups just to show you that I am not as perfect and 'on it' as instagram stories might show you. I dive deep into whether or not we should be using the smith machine and how we can utilize it for maximum benefits. I also share my full-body strength training template and explain the simplest way that you can progress through your program.  As always, thank you for listening. If you like what you hear, please share the podcast with a friend or two and drop a review on Itunes as well. You can learn more about me at my website - www.theodorelim.ca or on instagram @theodore.lim. Catch you next time!   Show Timestamps: 1:00 - Intro / Looking for feedback2:40 - Instagram highlights5:00 - Sharing my recent fuckups 8:30 - Smith machine vs free weights?22:00 - Sharing my full-body strength training template31:00 - How to progress to get stronger and build muscle41:00 - Why I give all of this information away for free   Important Links: Email me at theolim7@gmail.com for a copy of my 'Full-Body Strength Training Template' PDF

What's up, Achievers?! Hope you all had a wonderful weekend and we are back with another podcast! In question one, we discuss the concept of eating every 2-4 hours and whether or not it is superior for "stoking your metabolism" (2:34). Next, we talked about a specific person who happens to have better results dealing with shoulder impingement when benching on the Smith machine rather than using a barbell. We go over whether or not we think she should stick with the Smith machine, and some other considerations (8:02). After that, we talk about a scenario when a well-meaning fitness coach told one of our listeners that they needed to perform DOUBLE the amount of exercises they were currently performing in order to achieve good results. We talk about why that sort of advice is flawed and then go over our recommendations (10:53). Lastly, we go over whether or not nutrition is the most important factor to your health and fitness success (17:19)! We hope you enjoyed this episode! If you did, we'd love you forever if you left a rating and review on iTunes - it seriously helps us out a lot! Please DM us @achievefitnessboston on Instagram if you have any questions you'd like us to answer. Until next time, Peace, Love, and Muscles! Jason and Lauren

What's up, Achievers?! Hope you all had a wonderful weekend and we are back with another podcast! In question one, we discuss the concept of eating every 2-4 hours and whether or not it is superior for "stoking your metabolism" (2:34). Next, we talked about a specific person who happens to have better results dealing with shoulder impingement when benching on the Smith machine rather than using a barbell. We go over whether or not we think she should stick with the Smith machine, and some other considerations (8:02). After that, we talk about a scenario when a well-meaning fitness coach told one of our listeners that they needed to perform DOUBLE the amount of exercises they were currently performing in order to achieve good results. We talk about why that sort of advice is flawed and then go over our recommendations (10:53). Lastly, we go over whether or not nutrition is the most important factor to your health and fitness success (17:19)! We hope you enjoyed this episode! If you did, we'd love you forever if you left a rating and review on iTunes - it seriously helps us out a lot! Please DM us @achievefitnessboston on Instagram if you have any questions you'd like us to answer. Until next time, Peace, Love, and Muscles! Jason and Lauren

Of all of the bad #exercise machines you can use, the Smith Machine is the worst.

Follow Linda on Social Media @ Chickfitstudio on Facebook Instagram and Twitter and my website is www.chickfit.me Social Media- Elaine www.JackLanne.com Facebook - Elaine or Jack Lanne Before Jillian Michael's, Tony Horton, Kasiafit, Denise Austin, and Jane Fonda there was Jack the pioneer and "Godfather of Fitness", He is responsible for many of the fitness staples in the industry today some of which are the; protein bar, protein shake, leg extension, leg curl, cable pulleys, and so much more. Learn all about the making of this fitness icon and the wife beneath his wings, Elaine . She is 91 and rocking her age and still lectures all over the country. I love, eat, and breathe fitness, so I was beyond honored to interview The First Lady of Physical Fitness, Elaine . She is the wife of fitness legend Jack . I'm not going to lie.   I got pretty teary-eyed when I was preparing for this podcast about Jack and Elaine . Together they have created the most amazing legacy that we all still benefit from today. You know what they say; behind every great man is an incredible woman.  Elaine is nothing less than incredible! At 91 she puts us all to shame.  Elaine does full push ups, takes no medication, and is as sharp as a tack. In this episode we talk about how Elaine, the then smoker and donut lover, met Jack, The Godfather of Fitness and he changed her life forever.  Jack also had a life-changing event happen to him; perhaps that was why he was so interested in making an impact in other people’s lives.  Jack was ill as a teen and his entire life was changed from a lecture by Paul Braggs of Braggs Aminos. This was a lecture in which Jack was almost turned away because it was sold out. Paul made room for Jack and his mother right up front. Talk about divine intervention. As Jack got older he wanted people to realize that age was just a number. He set out to prove it by completing surreal physical feats, one of which was his infamous swim from Alcatraz to the mainland with his hands and feet shackled behind his back towing a 1000 pound boat at 60 years young. Jack really stood in the gap as a pioneer.  He was responsible for so much of what we see today in fitness, from creating the selectorized weight machines, cable/pulley machines, and leg extension, to having the idea for The Smith Machine.  Jack and Elaine encouraged and introduced women to the weight room, back then they were of the thinking that women belonged in the kitchen and not in the weight room. The backwards thinking was that women would look like men if they weight trained.  Also the thinking in that day was men in sports shouldn’t weight train, because they wouldn’t be able to move as fast and if they were muscle bound and that it would slow them down. Jack ,The Godfather of Fitness, was amazing from the sheer feats of physical fitness he performed, to the machines he created that still we use today.  Jack was also responsible for creating the first protein shake and protein bar.  Jack was such a pioneer and an icon in the industry and his wife was right alongside him being on the air helping him do all that he did.  She is a fabulous lady and I am so inspired by her. I met her at the World IDEA Blog Fest and it was an instant connection. She was such a gracious lady.  I took a leap and asked her if she would do a Facebook live video with me and she did. It didn't take the first time so I had to get up the courage to go up and ask her again and she was such so gracious. We did it one more time and now I’m interviewing her for a second time on my podcast. ”Life favors the bold.” 1. Move it or lose it 2. Fruits and Vegetables cleanse the system. 3. Every cell in your body is continually changing. Your body is new      every seven years. 4. Why its important to have a good gut. 5. The effect of good microbiome and a great probiotic. 6. If you nibble all day long you never realize how much your              eating. 7. What your doing right now is walking and talking tomorrow. 8. A sense of humor is important to longevity. 9. Jack wanted to prove that if you take care of yourself it doesn't        matter your age 10. People are old because they're told their old. 11. ARC is Elaine's secret and mission in life. A-Attitude R-                    Resistance C Consistency. 12. Sign up for Maria's Schriver's Sunday Paper free. 13. A funny story of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jack working out. 14. Jack always said "If you do everything in moderation you can't          go wrong." 15. "It's not what you do some of the time that counts its what you          do all of the time that counts." Jack Lanne 16. When someone has a birthday Elaine has a piece of cake but            she says Jack was always very disciplined and never deviated. 17. At 91 Elaine is living strong lecturing and writing a new book. 18. The story of how Elaine met Jack and fell in love. 19. Face exercises to keep you looking young. 20. Why Jack wore ballet slippers and where he got the idea to              wear a jumpsuit. 21. Jack would say "all I want to do is help people help themselves." 22. What people don't know that don't know. 23. Humor is the best medicine.      

Well since Aron didnt shoot anything we talked about his fitness routine and love of the Smith Machine.

Strength industry vet Shawn Phillips returns to join us to discuss the following:   Shawn weighs in on the issues of modeling your program based on the genetically gifted The guys discuss the spiritual aspect of lifting  Mike shares why lifting is more like a longtime best friend Shawn shares why he prefers the smith machine for bench pressing When getting hormone testing, Mike shares which is one of, if not, the most important one to get Why low cholesterol and not having enough fat consumption is not a Western issue Shawn shares the benefits of his daily rituals and why he's a "shake guy" What you can learn about the "power of simple" from a crackhead Why the phrases "working" out on vacation are diametrically opposed  Why "plus" model Ashley Graham gets it right in terms of going against society's norms     All this and much more:   Links & Resources mentioned in the show: Listen to exclusive LLA Podcast Premium Episodes for Patreon Subscribers Only. Become a monthly supporter via $5 or more on Patreon: http://www.patreon.com/llapodcast Project Child Save: http://projectchildsave.org Warrior Angels Foundation:  http://warriorangelsfoundation.org Purchase Aggressive Strength products: http://strengthbymahler.com Purchase Aggressive Strength Bundles:  http://budurl.com/mahlerbundles Purchase New Warrior Training products: http://newwarriortraining.com Shawn's website:  http://www.manontop.com     Listen and download archived free episodes at  http://strengthbymahler.com or http://newwarriortraining.com.  also subscribe, download, rate & review us at: iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/live-life-aggressively-podcast/id646524617  Stitcher: http://www.stitcher.com/s?fid=34706&refid=stpr Also, be sure to "like" and connect with us on our Facebook fan page at http://facebook.com/llapodcast.

We’re back with another Free Wheel Wednesday where we answer 3 of your questions rapid fire style, Carmen’s in to help ask the questions, if you love it, hate it or have a question you would like answered please send us an email to info@fitnessforfreedom.com Alright, let’s cut to it. Fatima: I started exercising with my roommate and right now, we’re keeping upper and lower body exercises on separate days. Would it be better to do them together? Marlo: I was ill for the past 6 months. Now I’m trying to return to my previous level of activity, but everything’s so tiring, frustrating and I just don’t feel good when I exercise anymore, which is an essential motivator for me. How do I get my enthusiasm –and shape – back? Sam: I get light headed easily, but I want to do exercise. What would be a good way for me to start? Can I train myself to get used to it so I don’t get light headed any more? Fitness For Freedom Online Personal Training Subscribe to Our YouTube Channel Follow us On Instagram - fitness_for_freeedom_1

Follow Linda on Social Media @ Chickfitstudio on Facebook Instagram and Twitter and my website is www.chickfit.me I love, eat, and breathe fitness, so I was beyond honored to interview The First Lady of Physical Fitness, Elaine LaLanne . She is the wife of fitness legend Jack LaLanne. I'm not going to lie.   I got pretty teary-eyed when I was preparing for this podcast about Jack and Elaine LaLanne. Together they have created the most amazing legacy that we all still benefit from today. You know what they say; behind every great man is an incredible woman.  Elaine LaLanne is nothing less than incredible! At 91 she puts us all to shame.  Elaine does full push ups, takes no medication, and is as sharp as a tack. In this episode we talk about how Elaine, the then smoker and donut lover, met Jack, The Godfather of Fitness and he changed her life forever.  Jack also had a life-changing event happen to him; perhaps that was why he was so interested in making an impact in other people’s lives.  Jack was ill as a teen and his entire life was changed from a lecture by Paul Braggs of Braggs Aminos. This was a lecture in which Jack was almost turned away because it was sold out. Paul made room for Jack and his mother right up front. Talk about divine intervention. As Jack got older he wanted people to realize that age was just a number. He set out to prove it by completing surreal physical feats, one of which was his infamous swim from Alcatraz to the mainland with his hands and feet shackled behind his back towing a 1000 pound boat at 60 years young. Jack really stood in the gap as a pioneer.  He was responsible for so much of what we see today in fitness, from creating the selectorized weight machines, cable/pulley machines, and leg extension, to having the idea for The Smith Machine.  Jack and Elaine encouraged and introduced women to the weight room, back then they were of the thinking that women belonged in the kitchen and not in the weight room. The backwards thinking was that women would look like men if they weight trained.  Also the thinking in that day was men in sports shouldn’t weight train, because they wouldn’t be able to move as fast and if they were muscle bound and that it would slow them down. Jack LaLanne,The Godfather of Fitness, was amazing from the sheer feats of physical fitness he performed, to the machines he created that still we use today.  Jack was also responsible for creating the first protein shake and protein bar.  Jack was such a pioneer and an icon in the industry and his wife was right alongside him being on the air helping him do all that he did.  She is a fabulous lady and I am so inspired by her. I met her at the World IDEA Blog Fest and it was an instant connection. She was such a gracious lady.  I took a leap and asked her if she would do a Facebook live video with me and she did. It didn't take the first time so I had to get up the courage to go up and ask her again and she was such so gracious. We did it one more time and now I’m interviewing her on my podcast. ”Life favors the bold.” Other Episodes with Elane: Check out Elaine’s previous interviews: Episode 116 Episode 54  

I currently have my arm in a sling. You may not think that has anything to do with dog training, but I can usually get a training lesson out of almost every major life event! Here’s what happened: I was at the gym the other day, trying to get in better shape. I’m not in great shape, but I’m pretty strong, and I enjoy lifting weights. Typically, I lift by myself. When I do a bench press—which, for those of you who are unfamiliar, is when you’re lying down and pushing the weight up—I normally do it on a Smith Machine, which allows you to easily rack your weights. So if you find that you’re in over your head and suddenly have too much weight on the bar, you can flick your wrists and it will rack the weights for you. When you’re lifting by yourself and don’t have any spotters, the Smith Machine can be much safer. The downside to the Smith Machine is that it only has one track for the weights. They move up and down in the same pattern every time. So your muscles don’t need to compensate, and as a result your body gets used to pushing in one way. If the weight weren’t on that track, you would need to have much more control over the way you’re moving your body. A few days ago, my brother and nephew were in town, and we decided to go down to the gym and do some bench presses. Since I had a spotter I decided to do regular lifts with free weights instead of using the Smith Machine. We’d done a few sets, I felt great, and I was interested to find out how well I could do without the machine. After I’d done a few sets, I eventually got myself up to a weight that I can usually manage six to eight repetitions of. It’s not a huge amount of weight, so I wasn't being too ambitious.

Position bar on back of shoulders and grasp bar to sides. Place feet under bar, hip width apart. Disengage bar by rotating bar back. Keep the chest up, shoulders down and back and core engaged. Bend knees while allowing hips to bend back behind, keeping back straight and knees pointed same direction as feet. Descend until thighs are parallel to floor. Extend knees and hips until legs are straight. Repeat.