Podcasts about Stefon

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

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

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

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

Kelli and Sarah discuss Season 12, Episode 4 of Below Deck. Topics include: hot bodies, a zooplankton lesson, neon night, towel folding on the floor, nude beach, Rainbeau's urgency, S&M dinner, worn out crew, the tip and hot tub makeout sessions. In Hot Tub Convo we discuss Chef Anthony and Rainbeau's WWHL appearance, a listener request for Stefon episode #s, The McBee Dynasty, Next Gen NYC and Shahs of Sunset. We can't wait to watch Sandy Crotch and a new episode of Above Deck is out now!  Follow us on Instagram: @abovedeckpod  Get in touch: abovedeckpod@gmail.com  Get ya some Above Deck merch! https://shop.hurrdatmedia.com/collections/above-deck If you're struggling and think you'd benefit from a therapy session, go to betterhelp.com/Abovedeck or choose Above Deck during signup and get 10% off your first month of therapy. Please subscribe on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or wherever you get your podcasts, and tell a friend!  Resources: https://www.puravidadivers.com/black-water-drift-dives Stefon episodes and approximate time stamps: 23 (1:30), 47 (3:55), 67 (2:30), 93 (22:30), 110 (3:00), 132 (3:00), 173 (3:35) This is a Hurrdat Media Production. Hurrdat Media is a podcast network and digital media production company based in Omaha, NE. Find more podcasts on the Hurrdat Media Network by going to HurrdatMedia.com or the Hurrdat Media YouTube channel! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Mike Giardi joins Fitzy and Mego on WEEI Afternoons to explain how Mike Vrabel's shaping the Patriots into HIS image, what Tom Brady's statue should look like, and what the expectations should be for Stefon .Diggs To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

It's Talk that Talk Tuesday on The Coach JB Show with Big Smitty as Steve Kim joins the show to discuss Miami Hurricanes Football, Boxing, and Stefon Diggs New Relationship! Maryland Assistant Head Coach Kevin Sumlin joins the show for an Exclusive Interview that you don't wanna miss! Join us for this one on The REALEST Show on Planet ERF! Like, Comment, and Subscribe! The Coach JB Show with Big Smitty is the realest sports show on Planet ERF! We discuss what other talk shows & debate shows refuse to discuss! We are LIVE 3 hours a day from 6-9am pacific with the realest guests on Planet ERF! Coach Jason Brown is the star of the hit Netflix series "Last Chance U", master motivator, and legendary JUCO football coach!! Darnell Smith Fox Sports very own, Ball State Alum, and Nap towns finest! Merciless Monday | Talk that Talk Tuesday | Work-Boot Wednesday | Truth Telling Thursday's | Free Game Friday Matt McChesney on Monday/Wed/Friday Steve Kim on Tuesday/Thursday Shaun King - Former NFL QB Monday/Friday Live M-F 6am-9am PST. Subscribe and become a member today, $2.99 for general membership or $5.99 to join Slap Nation and get access to the exclusive Coach's Crew group Chat!!

Title says it all The Red Sox have legitimate issues from ownership on down. The moron who got attacked outside MSG knew better, Stefon Diggs on a boat with Cardi B what could go wrong. Jim Irsay Dead, and other sports stuff!!!! Tell me something here anything thoughts, subject matter questions etc. - RyanSACCO & VANZETTI ARE DEAD PLAY TIX!!!!!!!! https://saccoandvanzettiaredead.com/ Instagram:https://instagram.com/itsryanotoole?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

On this 88th episode of the Patriots 300 Level Podcast, Kevin and Eric break down the Patriots 2025 NFL Draft. They highlight their moves, dissect moves they didn't make and give their draft grade.   Be sure to follow Kevin and Eric on Twitter/X @pats300levelpod and their blog pats300levelpod.com for up to the minute news/breakdowns/reactions/discussions!   Patriots 300 Level Podcast Hosts: Kevin Borrelli & Eric Borrelli they can be found on Twitter at @Kevin_Borrelli & @Eric_Borrelli.   Follow the show on: Twitter/X: @pats300levelpod Blog: pats300levelpod.com Rumble: @pats300levelpod Instagram: @pats300levelpod Facebook: Patriots 300 Level Podcast

Stefon Diggs making great decisions, Bradshaw clowns Rodgers, Mary Lou Renton: From The Balance Beam to The Sauce.

Tom Broecker is the costume designer of the legendary NBC sketch show Saturday Night Live. Broecker, who has been with the show for over three decades, is responsible for the design and creation of all of the costumes for the show—sometimes creating up to 200 for just one episode. Today on the podcast, he joins Who What Wear Co-Founder and Chief Content Officer Hillary Kerr to discuss the intricate process of creating iconic character costumes under tight weekly deadlines. He shares behind-the-scenes stories about the show's 50th anniversary, the massive costume archive, and the blend of psychology and resourcefulness needed to dress characters from Bill Hader as Stefon to Bowen Yang as the iceberg that sank the Titanic.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Tom Broecker is the costume designer of the legendary NBC sketch show Saturday Night Live. Broecker, who has been with the show for over three decades, is responsible for the design and creation of all of the costumes for the show—sometimes creating up to 200 for just one episode. Today on the podcast, he joins Who What Wear Co-Founder and Chief Content Officer Hillary Kerr to discuss the intricate process of creating iconic character costumes under tight weekly deadlines. He shares behind-the-scenes stories about the show's 50th anniversary, the massive costume archive, and the blend of psychology and resourcefulness needed to dress characters from Bill Hader as Stefon to Bowen Yang as the iceberg that sank the Titanic.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

How many cars has Leno? How many dirtbikes are mourners I milled over and started over, the sauna I met reaper and signed saints for St Barts More barters. I promise, your honor, I don't want it I promise my box of problems are all mine alone I got no prescription bottles or alcohol I got no son at all, But I'm likely to call home Maybe it's a good thing forgave me a body No programme Would wack off to I weight lift my organs And topple over at the tower A Scott's Monroe. Wash up. Watch, harder Watch harder Hard water I want to know you, But humbly, I won over hearts posthumously Look, even bob barker knows Not to drop the soap How hard you are Hard water Now wash up, cellulite I dog a hard bone A heart throb I got robbed this morning of all of my progress I get lost on a profile? A profile! When all this time I thought it was The eyes And the tie And the lips And the loafers I guess it's the power The tower card, Better stop talking I bet it's the man of the hour by now Oh, I'd better stop stalking her I stopped the progress report When I saw six dogs off leash, And I left all the hardest parts Out of the post office, Your honor! STEFON It's that thing where— The dog is on a leash but walking you, Because you're a covert submissive, like, subconsciously. Stefon knows all the places. I think I rather like him. I think I might run off now. In that direction, before I— JOHNNY! —woah! YOUNG JOHNNY CARSON discovers he has magic powers. How did you do that? Well, I don't know, I—! JOHNNY! What's going on in there?! Run, you'd better run You better not come home for supper Pick you up You better not call home for nothing You had better not look up from the book not once not once, You're a lost cause. Lost cause. I hope. I'd bet it was you if I saw you. Who are I again? That's right. Talk that stuff. You've been along. Long time now, better get you some sunglasses. Better keep warm. You drive a heavy and hard bargain. And that's what's with the storefront. Still no McDonald's! I'd fashioned. You'd bet a thousand bucks there'd be one there by now. But there's nothing there at all. Or here. Or there. Or up. Or down, I— Fuck. What. I lost it. Lost what. …nothing. *heavy gasp* Shut the book! Shut the book right now. BOOBS. Everything over a dollar. What if I want a hamburger! You're drunk, John! That's what if I want the hamburger for! Jesus Christ And what have I if not prayers for alzheimers How do you spell that disease, anyway? D-E-S-I-R-E Right you are, street car; Who are we, anyway, It must have been a mistake on the one way The wrong road The right time The white world The light goggles The in and outs And the radio towers Oh, you thought I meant us?! No, Oppenheimer?! The Void is a big bright l, Stark white, Light and endless orb, If just you'd all for once be quiet I could finally afford To put the lights on! Close the curtain, I was cursed with Carson Pushing carts on hearts And listen, bitch I got you once, You'll die as mine! Do you know me, Or are you simply not divined Strike through! I am! Redact, I would practice rounds on a baseball bat piñata Just never ever to squander or Delight Delight delight I fucking hate the tonight show I promise you this much, I'm that man. Did you really want me dead? I want the electric chair, please. I wobble and just might topple over. Give me the electric chair please. My stomach is sick and filled with acid. I want a trademark Or part in the company; You sure are phony— You sure do seem to own everything. What the fuck are you blabbering about? Drunken idiot. The Designee. You fool. I can't understand a word you're saying. Relay the message. I'll have white sauce on everything. Exacerbate the plot. The Premeditated Murder of Jimmy Fallon What part is this? The part where I… Duck— Run. You had better hide. I am hiding. …no. This is a bad spot. As you can see, I'm full of blind rage But it obviously should be liquor. I'd say you were the most drunken man I'd ever laid eyes on, But then I thought Of my father. Bless your heart, sparrow. I'm a hard one to want. I supply the artform The nothings The bastard. I supply the wages The heroin, The speed And the dancers. I supply the answers, The cantine, the spam— And you wouldn't believe the dimes And the dames, And the diamonds in my life. I can't breathe. Shackled, no belonging, I need you to free me I remind vampires of simply being I design outside and campfires and I, Now that I've bartered my all for the land On which you build houses, Nonpartisan alcoholic, If you ask politely my party Park the Winnebago at the other park; This is a stakeout This is a campfire We don't want the feds in our business Suits and ties, boys Suits and ties Boys and girls and aarvarks But Google wanted Barbra, so Streisand or Walters? Depends which way you're going. I want the electric chair. Cher! No, go boldly into the light, White flower Boldly enough the life White power Boldly into the looking glass You're the last to know And the first to pass out at the party, Why are you so tired! (You're right, she does have a lot of answers.) Addicts and calculators See you later, Elevator Truth or dare And never starbursts, Only now or laters. Jesus Christ. Relax a bit. Can't. Have you ever seen a constipated model? Hm. Why not! They all take relaxatives, Relax a bit. Can't. Why not? I'm immune to cocaine anyway. What speeds you up with enough Can sure consume you or calm you down. Since when! Since forever actually. What a remarkable honor, To have been skipped the immidiate need To fiend on at least this thing; I like more longset poems In hardborn fashion I'm in five lanes of traffic across And upright. Your fame ends here, And look at that No coincidence I don't want it at all I've demolished it, And there is no plot I just fought off the commandments with batons baton rouge I don't think you understand where my marker was This is a set up Through and through I was picked by a photograph To spend the day Arching my back in pain and in chaos In one, And not the opposite direction And also In all roads Which lead Into And out of Nowhere Chatterboxes. You wouldn't dream how my back aches, Aye sire, So you just be hell So this must be hell; She's a polyam, How glamorous, But all I qualify for Is a garbage man In a garbage town Where no one knows how To use a garbage can Fuck these rodents —-but it's the culture! Fuck your culture! Ow, God. What'd you do that for. Beg your pardon? You're drunk. Light a candle. Light as a feather Stings like the spider I'm in your mailbox, I won't look past Coachella. You fool. What the fuck are you blabbering about man! Get him up, he's wasted. Out for the count, The big envy of the hour The power of the west coast silver foxes And in an ounce of wit In the drop of a hat No masked magician All eyes and no mist As promised Your God, The talk of nobody, And nothing wanted Nothing gained I'm sure the old man has had it And how, in full funeral attire Wondering just as well when he will too will die Your last living will and testament The end all be all best friend of every manc Biiiiiiiiiiiiggggg Jimmy! (And his…erhm… Guillermo.) Right Jimmy! Well, this just got uncomfortable. All night I wept with you, Crept in by the cabinet, Waited by the candlelight, the power, Poor falling l— Dear master, Where are now? Red with the end of it Sure as the tide to come, The swell did wander out And back again As steady breath I killed kyself in the end— But yet you all wanted to live so I painted my on big toes, no motion And groaning Not wanting to go there But look, there's an ocean Pick a poloroid, And go get your nose checked! Now! What the fuck are you trying to say, you silly old dog you? I followed you into the fog, that night! The fog that night No amusement park of course I was waiting for the clown Madness And here he was all along — the Tony's mask, but the frowning one The withered end and fretted tips The groaning, aching, mounds od knowing Mirrors and nearer to roads Left to pay the tolls I will owe you One dollar exactly and one cent Then again I'm driving down the one oh one Racing and panicking And knowing I have no breaks Full coastal downhill in a rainstorm Waiting for the ocean to take us all Because I owe her the world in gold And the goal is to give you power And here yet They robbed her all morning What can be done Dear vampire About this, Nothing And nothing. And pain. And after all, I thought it was the eyes. A day wiser and still nothing to game but fame lost and hatred and boy, I just wish I were dead Spoiled rotten. God, I just wish I was home, Golden thrones, lord, And why can't I just have a dog And a boy And a home And a whisper A word And a world of my own Without the howls of war Or the ache of the heart Or the tears of the clown? Why, God? Sitting in my pictures, The history like a loaded gun Waiting to eliminate some sort of retaliation; disastrous archives Medieval remedy, I swear, These are no thumb drives And these are no harrods And this is not my time; If it were, there'd be no motorcycles Olive skin or not, The real power tool of the box The toy of choice the boy of grounds And soiled bushels And planted habit How about the rabbit? He sold you, simply for even a penny. Hogwarts, The argument persists that simply, Ms. Piggy would neither Or ever. Protestments, Procure, this: Producer? Not since wednesday I sorry, I have ten pennies. Mister, your face is a rabbit hole. –And Heavens, I hate you Every day since i was 18 Every day since I was eighteen. Pennies. Lessons in literacy; Listen to me, Listen to me Listen, Never say that shit again, My stomach churchman again And it's almost Chanukkah again In ten minutes Where has the time gone? Where are the misfits?! Do you like this outfit? Miserable miserable Missed ou since intense And get the sense of it The scent of him, And dollar signs Deposits And still dollars more At the dollar store You should holler more! You should call your mom You should comye Playe You could come covered in debt Did you pay attention All of the attention All of the admissions All of the adlibs All of the falcons The heart throbs, All of the robbers The heart snobs The Robin Hood's The wilting flower l. 6!3 powers that be and the I thought the dope would be alright I thought you'd be open to our vibes I thought you'd be willing to let go I thought you were awkward apostle Who else on your scrolls is here No one?' No one! I left you shrouded and gathered I. Rose quarts I read your oracle One no On the twisted gathered winds On the walls of Al our problems On the weathered weeping willow Keeping secret How and arrow Are you nearer Or further from love Are you nearer Or further from fame? Neither, I'm no one. No hard core answers, No gimmicks and no robots You're not offline for nothing You not on guard for no one Here's hopeless Here's broke And here's desperate, the foreigner To begin and to end would be around the corner And where you are now Is just the start of the bottom Are you a cow Or are you a sparrow Well now How there aren't vows Inside or outside Stirring your porridge I wilted every one of their flowers And now you're around Barking Not sparrow or cow But a dog (And the bitch bites) A dog A dog A dog A dog!!! Tell me again how the fog bites And tears into cold, the hog Cutting off edges and corners so rotten So putrid and worthy of disgust that it gets out towels warm It gets it all, doesn't it, It gets it all in the cherries and rain A new stream of consciousness, is scrambled eggs for brains And when it rains I hope you know I'll open all windows and doors. Are yonere or there for the false cause Are you here or there for where it brings good tidings and Grains, of Heath and rye Here I am warm again and in your blood To nobody's honor Where are you going To nobody's horror, here is you standing carts And gods And open meadows Shadows, capsules Drains and blood, warm And blood, warm and salty pools under us And blood, free the sparrow Laugh again but better not dare the cat coughs Comes the coffin, oh lord, Call the coroner The caskets I laugh, as I have not passed yet And now I am Debbie cadaver, Cardboard Now I host shows in the lunchroom with corpses I haven't forgotten them all, But I run Run Run Rudolph and impale myself in the lanes And in the soundscape of fever pitched fever dreams and yet again never mazes I sink to the routine of having nothing left in me but greens And greed! The dog! The dog! The dog! I want to know love again But perhaps I never did But always was And therefore to thine own self be true And therefore, to thine own self know God And therefore, as God is I am But worlds apart are we And here the war has waged On souls and solid dark And walks throught park at night. And television headstones, And coming for us, cream of the crop And it just doesn't stop, land! It just doesn't stop, does it Where where well well warewold and TIME! Time and diamonds and time and clovers And opens and closers And spaces and spaces And distance between us And anchors in host suits Are you the lost cause?! Well sir, this is oblivion, And remember the networks? Remember them and know them by their symbols And remember to amen in reverse and no time is god But man and God is of no time But diamonds And scoundrels And men And mercy Then And mercy Be And heavens sakes And heathesms The dogs And the shame And the clasp And the rhythm The curse of the gods And the curse of the mortals Is stopping to crawl and crowl under or skin For the sake of the fear There you are And in the hour of your demise Marks our return And just remember this, The rhythm and the band The Tim and the Jon's and the stop and the start And the love And the dogs And the dogs And the dogs!! Terror fell upon us And as the sun arose I woke And in the timesc I came grasp And in the times, I came to lay Pennece And penitence And illumination, wisdom, And grimace and scrimmage And cabbage And acts so much longer than 15 minutes Dancers! I am no fool, And danger! Of course, my lark. And sparrow came and laughed and went And sparrow came upstairs and choked And sparrow came to dance with withered wings and saw and came And left the bed unmade And came undone again And and and and and and. And and and and and and and and And. Then remembered what Doesn't matter Then remembered the mannequins , Man! Then remembers the tortured Robin! Robin! The hachetman Came and then went With the cat And the and And the and And the and And the dogs And the cats And Andy Sandberg, if that's his name He came, too. Cause we like him. And we like Jews But now we hate the color blue, Don't we. Control and control And fear and fear And chaos and chaos And monsters and monsters And washed up— Don't forget your helmet Put it on the empire I've not an idle moments Therefore My time don't get wasted Don't get wasted Here's the tusk I am elephant again Elephant and wooly mammoth And if I pass, Then no one can have it What comes after the cabbage? A sandwich? No rabbit, and new jazz Tricks are for kids Tricks are for the more intimate of hearts All things at play, The the raid of the poet And the tripping in shoes much too large for us And and and and Then there were none And Passover is over but Here again comes hanukkah In about ten minutes Remember, mistress, the mystery Remember the misery in stakes And remember your mistakes Don't stop, not even if your heart falls out and open This is no poem There are no words for the mangled divorces Learning lessons Highly revered sperm And the auto mattress There you are again Giving up Hi, my name is Blu And I record everything That's what makes me the guru I guess Or I blew it on blueberries Hey scottie; Have you ever seen anything like it? No, I've never seen anything like it But o, i hope it rubs off on me I was all the colors Then I tipped and folded, Then I ripped the anchor right out of their sockets Then I went and flipped the car over Six, seven times I'd better not drive after I write this unless I survived it Remarkable explosion He's it was Remarkable explosion And were twisted In and out of it Still remarkable Not an idle mind Not a flower Just a follower I'm not mad at all Did you know. Did you fold in two, Or have you given any thought to your Motherfucker! When the wind calls And the feeling kicks in Did the wind blow this evening In any particular direction? I think I flew a kite to your homewardbound horses Did you get to rehearsal on time? Did you just remit your good emotions. Did you remember the other words The just now, And the here and there l. But it didn't come, I think it left with the harrowing expenses Robin stradicam, For the heart of it I'm not talking to no one It's only on Mother's Day But it's okay I'm “anybody in the world”, I guess It's okay to l forget When you've never been there for him It's okay to not remember When you're growing butter and and bitterer I got no Angeles left Get a picture are every angle Give my attention to the mistress The ministry of magic And the randomness of all the subtle acts of kindness l. All the subtle acts of mind When you get invented, Remember the random acts of kindness And when you get back from your dispatch, Remember you can't interact with them They're only your mental images. Just remember the things you've been given, The incidentals of gifts, And that it is still she who is The same and the same And the dogs, and the kitchen Put the light out I'm still a genius, And I'm still in charge and responsible for this entire mess. Suddenly I don't feel welcome here I don't feel welcome here I don't feel welcome here at all {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project ™] The Complex Collective © COPYRIGHT THE FESTIVAL PROJECT ™, INC. 2015-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

How many cars has Leno? How many dirtbikes are mourners I milled over and started over, the sauna I met reaper and signed saints for St Barts More barters. I promise, your honor, I don't want it I promise my box of problems are all mine alone I got no prescription bottles or alcohol I got no son at all, But I'm likely to call home Maybe it's a good thing forgave me a body No programme Would wack off to I weight lift my organs And topple over at the tower A Scott's Monroe. Wash up. Watch, harder Watch harder Hard water I want to know you, But humbly, I won over hearts posthumously Look, even bob barker knows Not to drop the soap How hard you are Hard water Now wash up, cellulite I dog a hard bone A heart throb I got robbed this morning of all of my progress I get lost on a profile? A profile! When all this time I thought it was The eyes And the tie And the lips And the loafers I guess it's the power The tower card, Better stop talking I bet it's the man of the hour by now Oh, I'd better stop stalking her I stopped the progress report When I saw six dogs off leash, And I left all the hardest parts Out of the post office, Your honor! STEFON It's that thing where— The dog is on a leash but walking you, Because you're a covert submissive, like, subconsciously. Stefon knows all the places. I think I rather like him. I think I might run off now. In that direction, before I— JOHNNY! —woah! YOUNG JOHNNY CARSON discovers he has magic powers. How did you do that? Well, I don't know, I—! JOHNNY! What's going on in there?! Run, you'd better run You better not come home for supper Pick you up You better not call home for nothing You had better not look up from the book not once not once, You're a lost cause. Lost cause. I hope. I'd bet it was you if I saw you. Who are I again? That's right. Talk that stuff. You've been along. Long time now, better get you some sunglasses. Better keep warm. You drive a heavy and hard bargain. And that's what's with the storefront. Still no McDonald's! I'd fashioned. You'd bet a thousand bucks there'd be one there by now. But there's nothing there at all. Or here. Or there. Or up. Or down, I— Fuck. What. I lost it. Lost what. …nothing. *heavy gasp* Shut the book! Shut the book right now. BOOBS. Everything over a dollar. What if I want a hamburger! You're drunk, John! That's what if I want the hamburger for! Jesus Christ And what have I if not prayers for alzheimers How do you spell that disease, anyway? D-E-S-I-R-E Right you are, street car; Who are we, anyway, It must have been a mistake on the one way The wrong road The right time The white world The light goggles The in and outs And the radio towers Oh, you thought I meant us?! No, Oppenheimer?! The Void is a big bright l, Stark white, Light and endless orb, If just you'd all for once be quiet I could finally afford To put the lights on! Close the curtain, I was cursed with Carson Pushing carts on hearts And listen, bitch I got you once, You'll die as mine! Do you know me, Or are you simply not divined Strike through! I am! Redact, I would practice rounds on a baseball bat piñata Just never ever to squander or Delight Delight delight I fucking hate the tonight show I promise you this much, I'm that man. Did you really want me dead? I want the electric chair, please. I wobble and just might topple over. Give me the electric chair please. My stomach is sick and filled with acid. I want a trademark Or part in the company; You sure are phony— You sure do seem to own everything. What the fuck are you blabbering about? Drunken idiot. The Designee. You fool. I can't understand a word you're saying. Relay the message. I'll have white sauce on everything. Exacerbate the plot. The Premeditated Murder of Jimmy Fallon What part is this? The part where I… Duck— Run. You had better hide. I am hiding. …no. This is a bad spot. As you can see, I'm full of blind rage But it obviously should be liquor. I'd say you were the most drunken man I'd ever laid eyes on, But then I thought Of my father. Bless your heart, sparrow. I'm a hard one to want. I supply the artform The nothings The bastard. I supply the wages The heroin, The speed And the dancers. I supply the answers, The cantine, the spam— And you wouldn't believe the dimes And the dames, And the diamonds in my life. I can't breathe. Shackled, no belonging, I need you to free me I remind vampires of simply being I design outside and campfires and I, Now that I've bartered my all for the land On which you build houses, Nonpartisan alcoholic, If you ask politely my party Park the Winnebago at the other park; This is a stakeout This is a campfire We don't want the feds in our business Suits and ties, boys Suits and ties Boys and girls and aarvarks But Google wanted Barbra, so Streisand or Walters? Depends which way you're going. I want the electric chair. Cher! No, go boldly into the light, White flower Boldly enough the life White power Boldly into the looking glass You're the last to know And the first to pass out at the party, Why are you so tired! (You're right, she does have a lot of answers.) Addicts and calculators See you later, Elevator Truth or dare And never starbursts, Only now or laters. Jesus Christ. Relax a bit. Can't. Have you ever seen a constipated model? Hm. Why not! They all take relaxatives, Relax a bit. Can't. Why not? I'm immune to cocaine anyway. What speeds you up with enough Can sure consume you or calm you down. Since when! Since forever actually. What a remarkable honor, To have been skipped the immidiate need To fiend on at least this thing; I like more longset poems In hardborn fashion I'm in five lanes of traffic across And upright. Your fame ends here, And look at that No coincidence I don't want it at all I've demolished it, And there is no plot I just fought off the commandments with batons baton rouge I don't think you understand where my marker was This is a set up Through and through I was picked by a photograph To spend the day Arching my back in pain and in chaos In one, And not the opposite direction And also In all roads Which lead Into And out of Nowhere Chatterboxes. You wouldn't dream how my back aches, Aye sire, So you just be hell So this must be hell; She's a polyam, How glamorous, But all I qualify for Is a garbage man In a garbage town Where no one knows how To use a garbage can Fuck these rodents —-but it's the culture! Fuck your culture! Ow, God. What'd you do that for. Beg your pardon? You're drunk. Light a candle. Light as a feather Stings like the spider I'm in your mailbox, I won't look past Coachella. You fool. What the fuck are you blabbering about man! Get him up, he's wasted. Out for the count, The big envy of the hour The power of the west coast silver foxes And in an ounce of wit In the drop of a hat No masked magician All eyes and no mist As promised Your God, The talk of nobody, And nothing wanted Nothing gained I'm sure the old man has had it And how, in full funeral attire Wondering just as well when he will too will die Your last living will and testament The end all be all best friend of every manc Biiiiiiiiiiiiggggg Jimmy! (And his…erhm… Guillermo.) Right Jimmy! Well, this just got uncomfortable. All night I wept with you, Crept in by the cabinet, Waited by the candlelight, the power, Poor falling l— Dear master, Where are now? Red with the end of it Sure as the tide to come, The swell did wander out And back again As steady breath I killed kyself in the end— But yet you all wanted to live so I painted my on big toes, no motion And groaning Not wanting to go there But look, there's an ocean Pick a poloroid, And go get your nose checked! Now! What the fuck are you trying to say, you silly old dog you? I followed you into the fog, that night! The fog that night No amusement park of course I was waiting for the clown Madness And here he was all along — the Tony's mask, but the frowning one The withered end and fretted tips The groaning, aching, mounds od knowing Mirrors and nearer to roads Left to pay the tolls I will owe you One dollar exactly and one cent Then again I'm driving down the one oh one Racing and panicking And knowing I have no breaks Full coastal downhill in a rainstorm Waiting for the ocean to take us all Because I owe her the world in gold And the goal is to give you power And here yet They robbed her all morning What can be done Dear vampire About this, Nothing And nothing. And pain. And after all, I thought it was the eyes. A day wiser and still nothing to game but fame lost and hatred and boy, I just wish I were dead Spoiled rotten. God, I just wish I was home, Golden thrones, lord, And why can't I just have a dog And a boy And a home And a whisper A word And a world of my own Without the howls of war Or the ache of the heart Or the tears of the clown? Why, God? Sitting in my pictures, The history like a loaded gun Waiting to eliminate some sort of retaliation; disastrous archives Medieval remedy, I swear, These are no thumb drives And these are no harrods And this is not my time; If it were, there'd be no motorcycles Olive skin or not, The real power tool of the box The toy of choice the boy of grounds And soiled bushels And planted habit How about the rabbit? He sold you, simply for even a penny. Hogwarts, The argument persists that simply, Ms. Piggy would neither Or ever. Protestments, Procure, this: Producer? Not since wednesday I sorry, I have ten pennies. Mister, your face is a rabbit hole. –And Heavens, I hate you Every day since i was 18 Every day since I was eighteen. Pennies. Lessons in literacy; Listen to me, Listen to me Listen, Never say that shit again, My stomach churchman again And it's almost Chanukkah again In ten minutes Where has the time gone? Where are the misfits?! Do you like this outfit? Miserable miserable Missed ou since intense And get the sense of it The scent of him, And dollar signs Deposits And still dollars more At the dollar store You should holler more! You should call your mom You should comye Playe You could come covered in debt Did you pay attention All of the attention All of the admissions All of the adlibs All of the falcons The heart throbs, All of the robbers The heart snobs The Robin Hood's The wilting flower l. 6!3 powers that be and the I thought the dope would be alright I thought you'd be open to our vibes I thought you'd be willing to let go I thought you were awkward apostle Who else on your scrolls is here No one?' No one! I left you shrouded and gathered I. Rose quarts I read your oracle One no On the twisted gathered winds On the walls of Al our problems On the weathered weeping willow Keeping secret How and arrow Are you nearer Or further from love Are you nearer Or further from fame? Neither, I'm no one. No hard core answers, No gimmicks and no robots You're not offline for nothing You not on guard for no one Here's hopeless Here's broke And here's desperate, the foreigner To begin and to end would be around the corner And where you are now Is just the start of the bottom Are you a cow Or are you a sparrow Well now How there aren't vows Inside or outside Stirring your porridge I wilted every one of their flowers And now you're around Barking Not sparrow or cow But a dog (And the bitch bites) A dog A dog A dog A dog!!! Tell me again how the fog bites And tears into cold, the hog Cutting off edges and corners so rotten So putrid and worthy of disgust that it gets out towels warm It gets it all, doesn't it, It gets it all in the cherries and rain A new stream of consciousness, is scrambled eggs for brains And when it rains I hope you know I'll open all windows and doors. Are yonere or there for the false cause Are you here or there for where it brings good tidings and Grains, of Heath and rye Here I am warm again and in your blood To nobody's honor Where are you going To nobody's horror, here is you standing carts And gods And open meadows Shadows, capsules Drains and blood, warm And blood, warm and salty pools under us And blood, free the sparrow Laugh again but better not dare the cat coughs Comes the coffin, oh lord, Call the coroner The caskets I laugh, as I have not passed yet And now I am Debbie cadaver, Cardboard Now I host shows in the lunchroom with corpses I haven't forgotten them all, But I run Run Run Rudolph and impale myself in the lanes And in the soundscape of fever pitched fever dreams and yet again never mazes I sink to the routine of having nothing left in me but greens And greed! The dog! The dog! The dog! I want to know love again But perhaps I never did But always was And therefore to thine own self be true And therefore, to thine own self know God And therefore, as God is I am But worlds apart are we And here the war has waged On souls and solid dark And walks throught park at night. And television headstones, And coming for us, cream of the crop And it just doesn't stop, land! It just doesn't stop, does it Where where well well warewold and TIME! Time and diamonds and time and clovers And opens and closers And spaces and spaces And distance between us And anchors in host suits Are you the lost cause?! Well sir, this is oblivion, And remember the networks? Remember them and know them by their symbols And remember to amen in reverse and no time is god But man and God is of no time But diamonds And scoundrels And men And mercy Then And mercy Be And heavens sakes And heathesms The dogs And the shame And the clasp And the rhythm The curse of the gods And the curse of the mortals Is stopping to crawl and crowl under or skin For the sake of the fear There you are And in the hour of your demise Marks our return And just remember this, The rhythm and the band The Tim and the Jon's and the stop and the start And the love And the dogs And the dogs And the dogs!! Terror fell upon us And as the sun arose I woke And in the timesc I came grasp And in the times, I came to lay Pennece And penitence And illumination, wisdom, And grimace and scrimmage And cabbage And acts so much longer than 15 minutes Dancers! I am no fool, And danger! Of course, my lark. And sparrow came and laughed and went And sparrow came upstairs and choked And sparrow came to dance with withered wings and saw and came And left the bed unmade And came undone again And and and and and and. And and and and and and and and And. Then remembered what Doesn't matter Then remembered the mannequins , Man! Then remembers the tortured Robin! Robin! The hachetman Came and then went With the cat And the and And the and And the and And the dogs And the cats And Andy Sandberg, if that's his name He came, too. Cause we like him. And we like Jews But now we hate the color blue, Don't we. Control and control And fear and fear And chaos and chaos And monsters and monsters And washed up— Don't forget your helmet Put it on the empire I've not an idle moments Therefore My time don't get wasted Don't get wasted Here's the tusk I am elephant again Elephant and wooly mammoth And if I pass, Then no one can have it What comes after the cabbage? A sandwich? No rabbit, and new jazz Tricks are for kids Tricks are for the more intimate of hearts All things at play, The the raid of the poet And the tripping in shoes much too large for us And and and and Then there were none And Passover is over but Here again comes hanukkah In about ten minutes Remember, mistress, the mystery Remember the misery in stakes And remember your mistakes Don't stop, not even if your heart falls out and open This is no poem There are no words for the mangled divorces Learning lessons Highly revered sperm And the auto mattress There you are again Giving up Hi, my name is Blu And I record everything That's what makes me the guru I guess Or I blew it on blueberries Hey scottie; Have you ever seen anything like it? No, I've never seen anything like it But o, i hope it rubs off on me I was all the colors Then I tipped and folded, Then I ripped the anchor right out of their sockets Then I went and flipped the car over Six, seven times I'd better not drive after I write this unless I survived it Remarkable explosion He's it was Remarkable explosion And were twisted In and out of it Still remarkable Not an idle mind Not a flower Just a follower I'm not mad at all Did you know. Did you fold in two, Or have you given any thought to your Motherfucker! When the wind calls And the feeling kicks in Did the wind blow this evening In any particular direction? I think I flew a kite to your homewardbound horses Did you get to rehearsal on time? Did you just remit your good emotions. Did you remember the other words The just now, And the here and there l. But it didn't come, I think it left with the harrowing expenses Robin stradicam, For the heart of it I'm not talking to no one It's only on Mother's Day But it's okay I'm “anybody in the world”, I guess It's okay to l forget When you've never been there for him It's okay to not remember When you're growing butter and and bitterer I got no Angeles left Get a picture are every angle Give my attention to the mistress The ministry of magic And the randomness of all the subtle acts of kindness l. All the subtle acts of mind When you get invented, Remember the random acts of kindness And when you get back from your dispatch, Remember you can't interact with them They're only your mental images. Just remember the things you've been given, The incidentals of gifts, And that it is still she who is The same and the same And the dogs, and the kitchen Put the light out I'm still a genius, And I'm still in charge and responsible for this entire mess. Suddenly I don't feel welcome here I don't feel welcome here I don't feel welcome here at all {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project ™] The Complex Collective © COPYRIGHT THE FESTIVAL PROJECT ™, INC. 2015-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Worth knowing. I operated on a public server using Google as my. Main browser, our of incognito— This meant everything I search on Google I knew to be public, and did so soaringly, and cautiously. I told you more than once not to mess with that fucker! I wasn't! For the most part; however— That fucker was messing with me! Why! Who are you?! I don't know! Ugh. Ten seconds on the ground and I wanted to die. Fuck this place. Just get in the boat, Keenan. No, I won't. Just get— in the boat. Forget it. I'm not going to your— You don't dont even know what it is! Whatever is is. It's a function! If I didn't start making decisive moves around the map— and quick— I could be made to look like anything, or anyone. The media had ways of turning things into monsters—assuming all in all that the political agenda had overall become some short of holy war. I wasn't safe, especially sitting still— entire crowds moved around me as I emerged from days long stretches of speaking to and looking at no one; the more I resisted to conform, the more hostile the monster became— I was vanishing decently from one world and into the next, and on my absence there was a gaping hole needing to be filled but instead, opening into an inescapable void: being something for others as I presumed that I presently was not: I was not a pawn, or a worker, or a sim— I had escaped a matrix that was nearly entirely built on perception, and had adjusted to the understanding of the illusion of this grid. It was an impractical solution, silence and isolation; eventually I had to communicate with other people, and could not hide. But I would not be forced to do anything or speak to anyone I didn't want to— and so I began tricking the system before it could gather information to go about tricking me. After all, I was keeping more to myself than I was sharing or even writing about— I wrote often about race and sociopolitical injustice; however; these things were at a surface level. The things I pondered upon deeply, I kept to myself— I knew that my Google documents were comprised by the way that on the ground level— the simulation level— people had been hacked and sorted based on things I had put into the aglogithmic clouds. Anyone with a cell phone had become a biohazard, because they were socially and psychologically compatible with being technologically programmed to be moved about in any way the controllers saw fit— and who were the controllers using such as humans as devices? The very war mongers who saw this level as none other than that of a game, and people in no sense more than as numbers—a place which my conciousness did lie, and however— my physical body, almost entirely seperate, risided here amongst the all too common. And it was here that I was more likely to die, physically, anyway, than anywhere else because i wanted to. The frequency shift was severe enough that it bubbled and spewed inside of me not as hatred, but anxiety. Not fear, but nautiousness; I was no longer so compatible with the masses that I could normally function as such; an elitist mindset, but only out of elitist practice. I ate well, trained hard, and focused my energy on a higher mindset— It became obvious that if I didn't decide what I was, I was going to be told what I was, or painted in a certain way as percepted, and this I found limiting. If I decided what I was and made it somehow apparent so that others could not cast any judgement upon me, then I could at the very least, later, change it— if it differed too drastically from whatever it was my true purpose and intention. Easily enough, I found the devil worked through almost all things and people around me in such a way that it was best to remain apart from these things and people and to find my way to being surrounded by others who were in fact, shielded by light. Strength in numbers, and what was here something dark enough had torn through that almost all of them were dark as well, and so almost any time at all with that force made me ill. I'm so sorry. No, you're not— but that's okay, Because I'm sorry enough for the both of us. A SPECIAL DETECTIVE, recently promoted to captain from VICE gives the go-ahead on the immidiate detention of a subject with whom multiple units have been preoccupied with over the course of several months. This is… pure cocaine. It appears so… I've— I've never seen anything like it. — that pure? Like— pharmaceutical. In fact… It was pharmaceutical. Ah great. Why is Tom Hanks back in the movie? [breaking forth wall] Uh— because I was in the front of the movie— And in the middle of the movie— And because this is the same movie. Uh… Oh, by the way, you're in a movie. No!!! Wake up. Fuck. COSMIC AVENGER Snapdragons! Double fuck. Double double indeed. The cosmic avenger has a way of not swearing that is almost trademark to his— What does he do again? Nothing. Oh. You're so fucked now…! JIMMY FALLON is arrested and charged with MANSLAUGHTER. WHY! WHAT DID I DO? …nothing. What were his other catchphrases? I have no idea. Well, get a fucking idea. Why is it That you're so— fucking mean. What? I'm supposed to be what you think, the little man in the box is? I was hoping? At all times? Sometimes, at least. Joke's on you. No Fallon, the joke's on you. You're supposed to be funny. Haha. Goddammit, I hate you. You fucking suck. That's my sparring partner. Yep. What did I do?! You fought like a man— And won. Agh. Good luck, kid. What other way is it to fight? MEANWHILE, on BAD GIRLS CLUB Stop pulling my hair! TANISHA I'mon pull these tracks out whether you like it or noT! U THESE AINT TRACKS! That's my hair! The whole room stops for a moment, frozen in a silent confusion. TANISHA Whatchu say? U This— is my HAIR. It's ATTACHED TO MY HEAD. TANISHA Wh—how'd you get on bad girls club?! I don't know! I must have wished for it at some point or something? Wishes?! WHAT THIS GOT TO DONWITH MY ISNES. Witches? She said wishes. Hm. I'm stuck in the tv in like a movie or something? I don't know, it's very meta— all my wishes get granted— its fucked up. That is fucked up. [everyone just kind of agrees] — but that's your hair? Yeah, or— whatever's left of it and not under your fingernails. But these is acrylic. I figured. And these is BRAZILLIAN REMY. Okay. — and my eyelashes came off a Clydesdale! Why! Cause that shit is majestic as fuck! I…agree with you. Alright. Now sense we agree on this— um…comradrie. — agreement. Let's figure out about this— what you say it was? A movie. A movie— but this is a show. A show inside a movie. Okay. Okay. Okay. …so let's…cut to commercial, or—? I don't know I thought No wonder I'm fucking depressed… And now, it was obvious that someone in the media— the actual media, had read my work. I had deconstructed the Strike force 5 as such Hmmm. CBS HBO NBC NBC … That's 3 of the big five but I'm almost entirely sure I ‘ missing something. Where's Kimmel? CBS Colbert? HBO The NBC twins are on my last and ever living but still dying nerve So.. So— So I'm missing precisely one strike force member And arguably two out of the big five… That's— a relief. Considering I think Fox is in the big 5, sure. Don't want to attract the wrong attention. Or the right attention, with pun Intended. Whatever. If anything at all from this last election and current growth spurt slash quarter life crisis, I was a moderate conservative however benefitting more than probably from liberalized… Actually? The more I thought about it, this seemed private. I knew that most people who had spent any time at all in New York homeless shelters ended up in equally fitting project housing, but somehow, I had been spared— and though I had picked up two pairs of decent walking shoes, and maybe even raving shoes—definitely skateboarding shoes— But no running shoes, And I needed new running shoes to actually run; my current running shoes had been used nearly to their fullest extent… Not that I was running anywhere. My treadmill seemed just as entirely sick of my apartment as I was becoming… STEFON Batatas. Suddenly I had remembered with some strain of course, that Bill Hader existed in a legendary and almost mythical sense. Way more mythical than anyone else in this story— even Seth Rogen, who was apparently at some point eventually OH MY GOD. WHAT IS THIS. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? — like, what, hot glued to each other at that party. SETH MEYER(S)? I said no. What. SETH MEYERS I'm not doing it. See, the greatest thing about the festival project, besides it being a corporate sponsored money grab that was growing in value enough to be competable against the superhero franchises DISNEY Hahaha, you wish. That's who I'm missing—Disney. DEADMAU5 No, you're not. I'm not. DEADMAU5 —no…. There's a reason why that dude, in his fragile old age is still touring. DEADMAU5 I'm literally like ten years younger than literally everyone else you just mentioned. (But still touring.) (Read: ☠️ ) —so, you were saying. Oh— the best thing about this whole thing is Wait, how is this Disney? BEFORE: DISNEY You can't Mickey Mouse. MAU5 CAN. DISNEY CAN NOT, and we'll sue you, then kill you, then cryogenically freeze you, bring you back to life — THEN— when your catalogue has doubled in value, sue you again, and then kill you again— And repeat that process infinitely until the end of what is known on earth as “time” Oh, is that what happened to him? I've been wondering. DISNEY Unless… CUT BACK TO: Besides that, The best thing about this project is it features so many standard white savior type protagonists, that if anybody disagrees to this project( they can just be replaced and or characterized by an actor that looks and sounds just like them and their name slightly changed or altered to reflect one which doesn't technically trigger any copyright claims. Can you do that? Yep. 0.0 what's up Seth ROGONE, JOMMY FALOON Sup. Sup. See. [The Festival Project ™] lol Stefon's dungeon. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2025 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

Worth knowing. I operated on a public server using Google as my. Main browser, our of incognito— This meant everything I search on Google I knew to be public, and did so soaringly, and cautiously. I told you more than once not to mess with that fucker! I wasn't! For the most part; however— That fucker was messing with me! Why! Who are you?! I don't know! Ugh. Ten seconds on the ground and I wanted to die. Fuck this place. Just get in the boat, Keenan. No, I won't. Just get— in the boat. Forget it. I'm not going to your— You don't dont even know what it is! Whatever is is. It's a function! If I didn't start making decisive moves around the map— and quick— I could be made to look like anything, or anyone. The media had ways of turning things into monsters—assuming all in all that the political agenda had overall become some short of holy war. I wasn't safe, especially sitting still— entire crowds moved around me as I emerged from days long stretches of speaking to and looking at no one; the more I resisted to conform, the more hostile the monster became— I was vanishing decently from one world and into the next, and on my absence there was a gaping hole needing to be filled but instead, opening into an inescapable void: being something for others as I presumed that I presently was not: I was not a pawn, or a worker, or a sim— I had escaped a matrix that was nearly entirely built on perception, and had adjusted to the understanding of the illusion of this grid. It was an impractical solution, silence and isolation; eventually I had to communicate with other people, and could not hide. But I would not be forced to do anything or speak to anyone I didn't want to— and so I began tricking the system before it could gather information to go about tricking me. After all, I was keeping more to myself than I was sharing or even writing about— I wrote often about race and sociopolitical injustice; however; these things were at a surface level. The things I pondered upon deeply, I kept to myself— I knew that my Google documents were comprised by the way that on the ground level— the simulation level— people had been hacked and sorted based on things I had put into the aglogithmic clouds. Anyone with a cell phone had become a biohazard, because they were socially and psychologically compatible with being technologically programmed to be moved about in any way the controllers saw fit— and who were the controllers using such as humans as devices? The very war mongers who saw this level as none other than that of a game, and people in no sense more than as numbers—a place which my conciousness did lie, and however— my physical body, almost entirely seperate, risided here amongst the all too common. And it was here that I was more likely to die, physically, anyway, than anywhere else because i wanted to. The frequency shift was severe enough that it bubbled and spewed inside of me not as hatred, but anxiety. Not fear, but nautiousness; I was no longer so compatible with the masses that I could normally function as such; an elitist mindset, but only out of elitist practice. I ate well, trained hard, and focused my energy on a higher mindset— It became obvious that if I didn't decide what I was, I was going to be told what I was, or painted in a certain way as percepted, and this I found limiting. If I decided what I was and made it somehow apparent so that others could not cast any judgement upon me, then I could at the very least, later, change it— if it differed too drastically from whatever it was my true purpose and intention. Easily enough, I found the devil worked through almost all things and people around me in such a way that it was best to remain apart from these things and people and to find my way to being surrounded by others who were in fact, shielded by light. Strength in numbers, and what was here something dark enough had torn through that almost all of them were dark as well, and so almost any time at all with that force made me ill. I'm so sorry. No, you're not— but that's okay, Because I'm sorry enough for the both of us. A SPECIAL DETECTIVE, recently promoted to captain from VICE gives the go-ahead on the immidiate detention of a subject with whom multiple units have been preoccupied with over the course of several months. This is… pure cocaine. It appears so… I've— I've never seen anything like it. — that pure? Like— pharmaceutical. In fact… It was pharmaceutical. Ah great. Why is Tom Hanks back in the movie? [breaking forth wall] Uh— because I was in the front of the movie— And in the middle of the movie— And because this is the same movie. Uh… Oh, by the way, you're in a movie. No!!! Wake up. Fuck. COSMIC AVENGER Snapdragons! Double fuck. Double double indeed. The cosmic avenger has a way of not swearing that is almost trademark to his— What does he do again? Nothing. Oh. You're so fucked now…! JIMMY FALLON is arrested and charged with MANSLAUGHTER. WHY! WHAT DID I DO? …nothing. What were his other catchphrases? I have no idea. Well, get a fucking idea. Why is it That you're so— fucking mean. What? I'm supposed to be what you think, the little man in the box is? I was hoping? At all times? Sometimes, at least. Joke's on you. No Fallon, the joke's on you. You're supposed to be funny. Haha. Goddammit, I hate you. You fucking suck. That's my sparring partner. Yep. What did I do?! You fought like a man— And won. Agh. Good luck, kid. What other way is it to fight? MEANWHILE, on BAD GIRLS CLUB Stop pulling my hair! TANISHA I'mon pull these tracks out whether you like it or noT! U THESE AINT TRACKS! That's my hair! The whole room stops for a moment, frozen in a silent confusion. TANISHA Whatchu say? U This— is my HAIR. It's ATTACHED TO MY HEAD. TANISHA Wh—how'd you get on bad girls club?! I don't know! I must have wished for it at some point or something? Wishes?! WHAT THIS GOT TO DONWITH MY ISNES. Witches? She said wishes. Hm. I'm stuck in the tv in like a movie or something? I don't know, it's very meta— all my wishes get granted— its fucked up. That is fucked up. [everyone just kind of agrees] — but that's your hair? Yeah, or— whatever's left of it and not under your fingernails. But these is acrylic. I figured. And these is BRAZILLIAN REMY. Okay. — and my eyelashes came off a Clydesdale! Why! Cause that shit is majestic as fuck! I…agree with you. Alright. Now sense we agree on this— um…comradrie. — agreement. Let's figure out about this— what you say it was? A movie. A movie— but this is a show. A show inside a movie. Okay. Okay. Okay. …so let's…cut to commercial, or—? I don't know I thought No wonder I'm fucking depressed… And now, it was obvious that someone in the media— the actual media, had read my work. I had deconstructed the Strike force 5 as such Hmmm. CBS HBO NBC NBC … That's 3 of the big five but I'm almost entirely sure I ‘ missing something. Where's Kimmel? CBS Colbert? HBO The NBC twins are on my last and ever living but still dying nerve So.. So— So I'm missing precisely one strike force member And arguably two out of the big five… That's— a relief. Considering I think Fox is in the big 5, sure. Don't want to attract the wrong attention. Or the right attention, with pun Intended. Whatever. If anything at all from this last election and current growth spurt slash quarter life crisis, I was a moderate conservative however benefitting more than probably from liberalized… Actually? The more I thought about it, this seemed private. I knew that most people who had spent any time at all in New York homeless shelters ended up in equally fitting project housing, but somehow, I had been spared— and though I had picked up two pairs of decent walking shoes, and maybe even raving shoes—definitely skateboarding shoes— But no running shoes, And I needed new running shoes to actually run; my current running shoes had been used nearly to their fullest extent… Not that I was running anywhere. My treadmill seemed just as entirely sick of my apartment as I was becoming… STEFON Batatas. Suddenly I had remembered with some strain of course, that Bill Hader existed in a legendary and almost mythical sense. Way more mythical than anyone else in this story— even Seth Rogen, who was apparently at some point eventually OH MY GOD. WHAT IS THIS. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? — like, what, hot glued to each other at that party. SETH MEYER(S)? I said no. What. SETH MEYERS I'm not doing it. See, the greatest thing about the festival project, besides it being a corporate sponsored money grab that was growing in value enough to be competable against the superhero franchises DISNEY Hahaha, you wish. That's who I'm missing—Disney. DEADMAU5 No, you're not. I'm not. DEADMAU5 —no…. There's a reason why that dude, in his fragile old age is still touring. DEADMAU5 I'm literally like ten years younger than literally everyone else you just mentioned. (But still touring.) (Read: ☠️ ) —so, you were saying. Oh— the best thing about this whole thing is Wait, how is this Disney? BEFORE: DISNEY You can't Mickey Mouse. MAU5 CAN. DISNEY CAN NOT, and we'll sue you, then kill you, then cryogenically freeze you, bring you back to life — THEN— when your catalogue has doubled in value, sue you again, and then kill you again— And repeat that process infinitely until the end of what is known on earth as “time” Oh, is that what happened to him? I've been wondering. DISNEY Unless… CUT BACK TO: Besides that, The best thing about this project is it features so many standard white savior type protagonists, that if anybody disagrees to this project( they can just be replaced and or characterized by an actor that looks and sounds just like them and their name slightly changed or altered to reflect one which doesn't technically trigger any copyright claims. Can you do that? Yep. 0.0 what's up Seth ROGONE, JOMMY FALOON Sup. Sup. See. [The Festival Project ™] lol Stefon's dungeon. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2025 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

Worth knowing. I operated on a public server using Google as my. Main browser, our of incognito— This meant everything I search on Google I knew to be public, and did so soaringly, and cautiously. I told you more than once not to mess with that fucker! I wasn't! For the most part; however— That fucker was messing with me! Why! Who are you?! I don't know! Ugh. Ten seconds on the ground and I wanted to die. Fuck this place. Just get in the boat, Keenan. No, I won't. Just get— in the boat. Forget it. I'm not going to your— You don't dont even know what it is! Whatever is is. It's a function! If I didn't start making decisive moves around the map— and quick— I could be made to look like anything, or anyone. The media had ways of turning things into monsters—assuming all in all that the political agenda had overall become some short of holy war. I wasn't safe, especially sitting still— entire crowds moved around me as I emerged from days long stretches of speaking to and looking at no one; the more I resisted to conform, the more hostile the monster became— I was vanishing decently from one world and into the next, and on my absence there was a gaping hole needing to be filled but instead, opening into an inescapable void: being something for others as I presumed that I presently was not: I was not a pawn, or a worker, or a sim— I had escaped a matrix that was nearly entirely built on perception, and had adjusted to the understanding of the illusion of this grid. It was an impractical solution, silence and isolation; eventually I had to communicate with other people, and could not hide. But I would not be forced to do anything or speak to anyone I didn't want to— and so I began tricking the system before it could gather information to go about tricking me. After all, I was keeping more to myself than I was sharing or even writing about— I wrote often about race and sociopolitical injustice; however; these things were at a surface level. The things I pondered upon deeply, I kept to myself— I knew that my Google documents were comprised by the way that on the ground level— the simulation level— people had been hacked and sorted based on things I had put into the aglogithmic clouds. Anyone with a cell phone had become a biohazard, because they were socially and psychologically compatible with being technologically programmed to be moved about in any way the controllers saw fit— and who were the controllers using such as humans as devices? The very war mongers who saw this level as none other than that of a game, and people in no sense more than as numbers—a place which my conciousness did lie, and however— my physical body, almost entirely seperate, risided here amongst the all too common. And it was here that I was more likely to die, physically, anyway, than anywhere else because i wanted to. The frequency shift was severe enough that it bubbled and spewed inside of me not as hatred, but anxiety. Not fear, but nautiousness; I was no longer so compatible with the masses that I could normally function as such; an elitist mindset, but only out of elitist practice. I ate well, trained hard, and focused my energy on a higher mindset— It became obvious that if I didn't decide what I was, I was going to be told what I was, or painted in a certain way as percepted, and this I found limiting. If I decided what I was and made it somehow apparent so that others could not cast any judgement upon me, then I could at the very least, later, change it— if it differed too drastically from whatever it was my true purpose and intention. Easily enough, I found the devil worked through almost all things and people around me in such a way that it was best to remain apart from these things and people and to find my way to being surrounded by others who were in fact, shielded by light. Strength in numbers, and what was here something dark enough had torn through that almost all of them were dark as well, and so almost any time at all with that force made me ill. I'm so sorry. No, you're not— but that's okay, Because I'm sorry enough for the both of us. A SPECIAL DETECTIVE, recently promoted to captain from VICE gives the go-ahead on the immidiate detention of a subject with whom multiple units have been preoccupied with over the course of several months. This is… pure cocaine. It appears so… I've— I've never seen anything like it. — that pure? Like— pharmaceutical. In fact… It was pharmaceutical. Ah great. Why is Tom Hanks back in the movie? [breaking forth wall] Uh— because I was in the front of the movie— And in the middle of the movie— And because this is the same movie. Uh… Oh, by the way, you're in a movie. No!!! Wake up. Fuck. COSMIC AVENGER Snapdragons! Double fuck. Double double indeed. The cosmic avenger has a way of not swearing that is almost trademark to his— What does he do again? Nothing. Oh. You're so fucked now…! JIMMY FALLON is arrested and charged with MANSLAUGHTER. WHY! WHAT DID I DO? …nothing. What were his other catchphrases? I have no idea. Well, get a fucking idea. Why is it That you're so— fucking mean. What? I'm supposed to be what you think, the little man in the box is? I was hoping? At all times? Sometimes, at least. Joke's on you. No Fallon, the joke's on you. You're supposed to be funny. Haha. Goddammit, I hate you. You fucking suck. That's my sparring partner. Yep. What did I do?! You fought like a man— And won. Agh. Good luck, kid. What other way is it to fight? MEANWHILE, on BAD GIRLS CLUB Stop pulling my hair! TANISHA I'mon pull these tracks out whether you like it or noT! U THESE AINT TRACKS! That's my hair! The whole room stops for a moment, frozen in a silent confusion. TANISHA Whatchu say? U This— is my HAIR. It's ATTACHED TO MY HEAD. TANISHA Wh—how'd you get on bad girls club?! I don't know! I must have wished for it at some point or something? Wishes?! WHAT THIS GOT TO DONWITH MY ISNES. Witches? She said wishes. Hm. I'm stuck in the tv in like a movie or something? I don't know, it's very meta— all my wishes get granted— its fucked up. That is fucked up. [everyone just kind of agrees] — but that's your hair? Yeah, or— whatever's left of it and not under your fingernails. But these is acrylic. I figured. And these is BRAZILLIAN REMY. Okay. — and my eyelashes came off a Clydesdale! Why! Cause that shit is majestic as fuck! I…agree with you. Alright. Now sense we agree on this— um…comradrie. — agreement. Let's figure out about this— what you say it was? A movie. A movie— but this is a show. A show inside a movie. Okay. Okay. Okay. …so let's…cut to commercial, or—? I don't know I thought No wonder I'm fucking depressed… And now, it was obvious that someone in the media— the actual media, had read my work. I had deconstructed the Strike force 5 as such Hmmm. CBS HBO NBC NBC … That's 3 of the big five but I'm almost entirely sure I ‘ missing something. Where's Kimmel? CBS Colbert? HBO The NBC twins are on my last and ever living but still dying nerve So.. So— So I'm missing precisely one strike force member And arguably two out of the big five… That's— a relief. Considering I think Fox is in the big 5, sure. Don't want to attract the wrong attention. Or the right attention, with pun Intended. Whatever. If anything at all from this last election and current growth spurt slash quarter life crisis, I was a moderate conservative however benefitting more than probably from liberalized… Actually? The more I thought about it, this seemed private. I knew that most people who had spent any time at all in New York homeless shelters ended up in equally fitting project housing, but somehow, I had been spared— and though I had picked up two pairs of decent walking shoes, and maybe even raving shoes—definitely skateboarding shoes— But no running shoes, And I needed new running shoes to actually run; my current running shoes had been used nearly to their fullest extent… Not that I was running anywhere. My treadmill seemed just as entirely sick of my apartment as I was becoming… STEFON Batatas. Suddenly I had remembered with some strain of course, that Bill Hader existed in a legendary and almost mythical sense. Way more mythical than anyone else in this story— even Seth Rogen, who was apparently at some point eventually OH MY GOD. WHAT IS THIS. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? — like, what, hot glued to each other at that party. SETH MEYER(S)? I said no. What. SETH MEYERS I'm not doing it. See, the greatest thing about the festival project, besides it being a corporate sponsored money grab that was growing in value enough to be competable against the superhero franchises DISNEY Hahaha, you wish. That's who I'm missing—Disney. DEADMAU5 No, you're not. I'm not. DEADMAU5 —no…. There's a reason why that dude, in his fragile old age is still touring. DEADMAU5 I'm literally like ten years younger than literally everyone else you just mentioned. (But still touring.) (Read: ☠️ ) —so, you were saying. Oh— the best thing about this whole thing is Wait, how is this Disney? BEFORE: DISNEY You can't Mickey Mouse. MAU5 CAN. DISNEY CAN NOT, and we'll sue you, then kill you, then cryogenically freeze you, bring you back to life — THEN— when your catalogue has doubled in value, sue you again, and then kill you again— And repeat that process infinitely until the end of what is known on earth as “time” Oh, is that what happened to him? I've been wondering. DISNEY Unless… CUT BACK TO: Besides that, The best thing about this project is it features so many standard white savior type protagonists, that if anybody disagrees to this project( they can just be replaced and or characterized by an actor that looks and sounds just like them and their name slightly changed or altered to reflect one which doesn't technically trigger any copyright claims. Can you do that? Yep. 0.0 what's up Seth ROGONE, JOMMY FALOON Sup. Sup. See. [The Festival Project ™] lol Stefon's dungeon. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2025 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

Tournament Talk reconvenes to debate one of the most hotly contested topics among SNL fans – Best Recurring Characters!From The Nerds to Wayne & Garth, Mr. Robinson to Stefon, our panel discusses and deliberate some of Saturday Night Live's most iconic characters. The Church Lady and Matt Foley battle against the likes of Mary Katherine Gallagher and Colleen Rafferty while some of the show's most recognizable characters didn't even make the list! Will your favorite recurring character be crowned the winner? Did they even make the final tournament? Surprises abound as we battle our way to anointing a champion.Listen in as arguments are made, minds are changed, and spirits are broken. You might even get an impression or two.  It's all here.---------------------------------Subscribe today!Follow us on social media: X (Twitter): NR4PTProjectBluesky: nr4ptproject.bsky.socialInstagram: nr4ptprojectFacebook: The Not Ready for Prime Time ProjectContact Us: Website: https://www.nr4project.comEmail: nr4ptproject@gmail.com

Discover how Stefon Towler's 5/15/5 framework transforms stakeholder relationships by understanding what truly drives decisions. Learn a systematic approach to uncovering stakeholder priorities and crafting messages that resonate with decision-makers at every level.What if you could predict exactly how your stakeholders would respond to your ideas before you even present them?Stefon Towler brings deep insight into the psychology of stakeholder decision-making, revealing how understanding their true priorities can transform resistance into support. His practical approach helps teams move beyond surface-level presentations to create genuine alignment with stakeholder needs.Throughout our conversation, Stefon breaks down how his 5/15/5 framework helps teams understand the real motivations driving stakeholder decisions. He shares examples of how teams have used this approach to transform their relationships with executives, product managers, and cross-functional partners.Whether you're trying to influence process changes or secure buy-in for major initiatives, this episode provides actionable strategies for understanding and aligning with stakeholder priorities. Listen now to learn how to move beyond presentations and start creating true stakeholder partnerships.Topics:• 04:17 – Stefan's Journey and the 5-15-5 Framework• 07:09 – Applying the 5-15-5 Framework• 11:50 – Finding the Right People for Insights• 18:42 – Identifying Patterns and Crafting Messages• 33:53 – Reaching Out on LinkedIn: A Journey to Mentorship• 34:56 – The Importance of Providing Value in Networking• 36:30 – Improving the QA Process for UX Design• 38:43 – Identifying Key Players and Crafting a Guide• 48:33 – Iterating and Testing Messages• 51:03 – Common Pitfalls and TipsHelpful Links:• Connect with Stefon on LinkedIn• Insight & INNOVATE---Thanks for listening! We hope you dug today's episode. If you liked what you heard, be sure to like and subscribe wherever you listen to podcasts! And if you really enjoyed today's episode, why don't you leave a five-star review? Or tell some friends! It will help us out a ton.If you haven't already, sign up for our email list. We won't spam you. Pinky swear.• ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Get a FREE audiobook AND support the show⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠• ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Support the show on Patreon⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠• ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Check out show transcripts⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠• ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Check out our website⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠• ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Subscribe on Apple Podcasts⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠• ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Subscribe on Spotify⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠• ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Subscribe on YouTube⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠• ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Subscribe on Stitcher⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠---Support our sponsors!Ok web designers. Let's talk about the “c” word—creative burnout.You're working on a site for a really big client, but between resourcing, feedback, tight budgets and even tighter deadlines—it doesn't make the cut. Wix Studio helps close that gap, so you can deliver your vision with less friction. Built for agencies and enterprises, you get total creative control over every last pixel. With no-code animations, AI-powered tools, reusable design assets, advanced, intuitive layout tools and a Figma to Wix Studio integration, you can design the way you want to and deliver when you need to.And if you're worried about the learning curve eating into time you don't have—don't be. Wix Studio is intuitive by design, so your entire team can hit the ground running.For your next project, check out ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠wixstudio.com

Quaterbacks und Wide RecieverZwei Poistionen die in der NFL ein unfassbar hohes Standing haben - Kann dieser Draft dem gerecht werden?Wir diskutieren vor allem Das, anhand unserer Top5 (oder mehr) + EINIGE Extras.#Spoiler so ganz zufrieden sind wir bei beiden Gruppen nicht, aber das liegt vor allem am Top-End-Talent und weniger an dem Value der teils speziellen Spieler an sich. Gibt ein paar Meinungsunterschiede diese Woche aber auch die gehören beim Draft dazu.Dazu: die News mit Russ und Stefon + ein paar wenige weitere Infos aus dieser WocheEnjoy!CHECK OUT covertwo-shop.deHier könnt ihr uns auf Twitter & Instagram folgen und euch sofort über neue Folgen und die NFL informieren.  Wir würden uns auch über die ein oder andere iTunes Rezension oder ein Spotify Abo freuen.Draft: ⁠DRA⁠⁠FT DISCORD⁠⁠⁠ | ⁠⁠⁠STREAM ⁠⁠Website: ⁠covertwo.de Twitter: CoverTwoPodcast Luca: @loooooca Simon: @nowisatddbfInstagram: ⁠CoverTwoPodcast⁠Vielen Dank an Tom und Joni für Musik, das Logo und Cover!!

(00:00) Zolak and Bertrand start off the third hour by welcoming Celtics’ head coach Joe Mazzulla to the show to discuss the latest update on Jayson Tatum’s ankle injury, new ownership of the team and his thoughts on winning as the number one priority for this team as they try to go back to back this season. (18:46) Zo and Beetle take your calls on the Patriots draft predictions and get your thoughts and takes on who is the better player at #4 overall. (22:28) The crew start with the Patriots and Stefon diggs contract talk, then shift towards what the Red Sox should do with Masataka Yoshida as well as breaking news that the Red Sox put relief pitcher Liam Hendricks on the 15-day IL. (35:15) We finish the hour by welcoming New England Revolution head coach Caleb Porter to the show to discuss his daughter's ballet recital, how his players recover with different recovery methods, and more.

On this 87th episode of the Patriots 300 Level Podcast, Kevin and Eric break down the Patriots 2025 NFL Free Agency thus far. They highlight their moves, dissect moves they didn't make and discuss the most recent transaction of signing Stefon Diggs. They give their grade so far and give an early draft wish for pick #4 in the 2025 NFL Draft.   Be sure to follow Kevin and Eric on Twitter/X @pats300levelpod and their blog pats300levelpod.com for up to the minute news/breakdowns/reactions/discussions!   Patriots 300 Level Podcast Hosts: Kevin Borrelli & Eric Borrelli they can be found on Twitter at @Kevin_Borrelli & @Eric_Borrelli.   Follow the show on: Twitter/X: @pats300levelpod Blog: pats300levelpod.com Rumble: @pats300levelpod Instagram: @pats300levelpod Facebook: Patriots 300 Level Podcast

Hailey ‘Hawk Tuah' Welch resurfaces, Trump administration “war plan” leaks on Signal, Cain Valasquez sentenced, Sydney Sweeney's single, Xavier Worthy sues Tia Jones, and an emailer notifies Drew that he “hates women”. The Trump Administration accidentally included the Editor of The Atlantic in their Signal chat about attacking Yemen. Rosie O'Donnell apologizes for America to the Prime Minister of Ireland. Donald Trump really hates his Colorado portrait. Drew Crime: UFC's Cain Valasquez sentenced to 5 years behind bars for shooting at his child's molester. University of Idaho murderer Bryan Kohberger thinks he's hot. Luigi Mangione's defense is hard at work raising more money. Drew tells the tale of Derrell Mickles. Mickey Stines to plead insanity. The Karen Read documentary is out on MAX. The Righteous Gemstones new season is out. Kansas City Chief WR Xavier Worthy sues Tia Jones. Hawk Tuah is trying to make a comeback. Buy Bitcoin, bro. Kaitlyn Cooper used to be a Blake Lively fan until Blake stalked her. What celebrity do you like that turned out to be a total jerk? Jasmine Crockett came up with a very mean nickname for Governor Greg Abbott. Drew is being accused of hating women. What is in your 23 and Me DNA that scares you about leaking? Eliza Coupe claps back about how she looks different. Pete Davidson vs his tattoos. Sydney Sweeney's huge boobs may now be single. Cardi B's brat ruined her $60K purse. New England Patriot WR Stefon Diggs is into some preggo sex. Stefon better watch his back. Kanye West dropped ‘Bully' and it's apparently #1. The Women's NCAA Tournament is getting major air time. Diddy is getting claims dropped left and right. Celebrity Roundup: Angelina Jolie is wasting away. Ariana Grande is a skeleton. Richard Gere is getting fat. Gérard Depardieu is obese and likely to die. Meg Ryan is addicted to plastic surgery. The Reclaiming with Monica Lewinsky podcast is running strong… except on YouTube. Meanwhile, Chrissy Teigen is failing hard. Meghan Markle is a huckster. Scamanda is a huckster, too. Nikki Glaser wants her man to nail other chicks. Trump vs Clooney vs Biden. If you'd like to help support the show… consider subscribing to our YouTube Channel, Facebook, Instagram and Twitter (The Drew Lane Show, Marc Fellhauer, Trudi Daniels, Jim Bentley and BranDon).

What's the best “Plan B,” if Stefon departs? QOTD: What's something you only see in Houston? Adam Spolane joins the show and dukes it out with Lopez over Cam Smith.

What's the best “Plan B,” if Stefon departs?

Nick celebrates Valentine's Day with a hilarious look back at some of Saturday Night Live's best sketches, bits, and songs that poke fun at—and embrace—the holiday. Highlights include a song about the awkwardness of receiving a Valentine's Day card from your mom, a last-minute gift guide courtesy of a very honest CVS commercial, and a visit from Garth and Kat with their signature off-the-cuff holiday songs. Plus, Nick revisits the first-ever appearance of Leon Phelps: The Ladies Man, along with an unforgettable Valentine's-themed visit from Stefon. Featuring the comedic brilliance of Kate McKinnon, Fred Armisen, Kristen Wiig, Tim Meadows, Halsey, Taran Killam, Jay Pharoah, Bill Hader, and more, this episode is packed with laughs and behind-the-scenes stories. Happy Valentine's Day from That Show...! [Ep110]

Crime Scene Investigation? More like Combs Steals It (Every Scene He's In!!)*  Me and Timothy Clark look (at his request, for some reason) at the oddly gory "Jackpot", S4/E6 of CSI (2003). [Stefon voice] This episode has everything: dogs, Dad rock, sassy diner waitresses, lunkheads...and stick around for Clarky's meticulous analysis of CSI and adjacent franchises!  *I'm very tired   Follow the podcast: Twitter: @reanimatespod Instagram: @reanimatespod YouTube: @re-animatespodcast Tumblr: /reanimatespodcast Support the podcast: ko-fi.com/lisadib

Ammi, Keith & Stefon dig into a couple of touchy subjects: Criticism & Forgiveness. Lots of good stuff in this one. A couple of resources we discussed are: 1)Total Forgiveness by RT Kendall 2) What forgiveness is & isn't: Check it out HERE: https://0d4f8f10-d614-429b-abb5-3f0ac053bd7e.usrfiles.com/ugd/0d4f8f_faa81e0dda8b4bacb7b68271eb4b85e4.pdf If you have a question or comment please feel free to send us an email at: clemsonfoothills@gmail.com

Nick welcomes film critic Steve Prokopy to the podcast to share how his love for Saturday Night Live was inspired by his father's obsession with George Carlin, carried through his high school years during the Eddie Murphy era, and now includes a deep appreciation for the Digital Shorts from The Lonely Island. Steve also recounts some of his memorable interviews with SNL cast members, including Kyle Mooney, Molly Shannon, Robert Downey Jr., Ben Stiller, Will Ferrell, Kristen Wiig, Noel Wells, and more. Steve's Top 5 Favorite Sketches are revealed, featuring classics like Debbie Downer, Black Jeopardy, Massive Headwound Harry, and an unforgettable appearance from Stefon. It's a great conversation filled with SNL nostalgia and behind-the-scenes insights!  [Ep106]

What is your preshow ritual, anyway? I stand on one of the high floors, up here– Yeah– And I shoot snot at the tourists. What? Gross. Fascinating. Straight out of my nose. Ah, God, man. You need help. And into the plaza. Sick. Gross. Before every show. [beat] You know, some of those tourists are in your audience. Exactly. Agh. You need help, guy. You're a sick man. What goes around…comes around. Agh. I JUST GOT MY NBC MERCH. Ahh, shit, here she comes. Is she drunk. What time is it? 8:45 AM. She's wasted. Yooooooooooooooooo. What up, californians. What up Sunni. Good morning. Californians in new york, That's fucked up. Happens all the time. It is weird. Shouldn't be a thing. Wasted. You like my sweatshirt? [Saturday Night Live] It's custom. No it isn't. It's SNL. I just said that. THE ‘N' IS FOR– What did you just say? I said. NONSENSE. THIS IS NONSENSE. What. Lets take a break. __ CUT TO: I'm going to stare at this photograph until the image of you is burned into my brain. OKay. Why are we LEVITATING? And then, I'm going to incinerate it with my mind. *gasp* YOU'RE JACKED. I'M WASTED. [meanwhile, at craft services] More cocaine, please. Thank you, very much. You hold yourself together very well. I'm sorry, i'm sorry–i'm sorry–i'm sorry. What in the FUCK are you apologizing for?! I am a telepathic time traveler. I knew that already. Like, in very real life. Does this thing go both ways. [REDACTED] WHO ARE YOU? I forgot, already honestly. [The Office Style Mockumentary] I heard you were looking for Jimmy. I wasn't. He's nuts. I– [This is not a movie about] [REDACTED] I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch. I'm gonna kill him. AMY POHLER No comment. {Enter The Multiverse} Once you master the levitation, teleportation is only a very sight– Jesus Christ. Not quite. I mean. Seth Meyers. What are you doing here. I'm not. Okay. L E G E N D S Why are we levitating? We're levitating. You're just— Goddammit, what the fuck do you want? Looking for this? NO. Well, why not? Cause i dropped it; what the fuck are you doing with it? …I thought you'd be looking for it– Well, I wasn't, because I dropped it precisely where I dropped it on purpose. Why–would you drop something like this? Why wouldn't I? Isn't it the only one of its kind? Goddammit, you fucking suck at everything. I don't suck at everything… You suck at this, specifically–and this is everything. Ah fuck, i lost his cadence. I lost the cadence. I lost everything. Suddenly, i stopped writing in his cadence. It was as if, after all that time, he had simply just– Disappeared. Goddammit. Now what happened. Nothing! Dis/Connect. Disconnected. Why. What happened. The server is down. What do you mean the server is down? I'm the server. Well, it's down. WHAT IN THE FUCKKKKKK. FUCK. FUCK. Now I gotta go find Jimmy Fallon. FUCK MAN, I HATE THIS DUDE. __ FUCK THIS NIGGA. I'M SICK OF HIM. You can't say that. I JUST DID. You're lucky they even invited you back here. INVITED ME? I OWN THE NETWORK. WHAT! Sunni. SINCE WHEN. YOU CAN'T BILL COSBY ME, MOTHERFUCKER. I OWN NBC. THATS RIGHT. SUCK MY BIG BLACK DICK. Sunni! NIGGAAAAAAAAAAAA. [throws liquor bottle through jewelry store window and palms all of the diamonds on display] aaaaaahhhhhhhh — jager bomb. THAT'S NOT EVEN JAGER. Whateva. L E G E N D S Camera 1– Now, look directly in the light… I won four oscars… [for that one] I knew that if Sara was a real person–then Stefon was probably a real person, and eventually, i started to wonder, if also–Sunni Blu was a real person. Who is C'cxell Soleil? DO YOU MEAN I COULD HAVE GOTTEN 10% OFF THIS SWEATER?! AGGHGHHHH GODDAMMIT I HATE THIS MOTEHRFUCKER. Let me try. For what. It's my console. So. I got cheat codes. Let the name expire, Or the game experience spectacular levels of– disacknowledgement . At a certain point i realized that I had never heard the word ‘fuck' out of Seth Meyers' actual mouth. This is levels, man. Please explain to me this series. *shrugs* I can't. [he walked away] GOOD. I tell you, I'm not going anywhere near The Rockefeller Plaza In anything less than my awful, irrelevant, and absolutely mediocre do-not-mind-me and pay-no-attention deficit to— Maybe anything i'm saying, because believe me Tomorrow: Whatever tomorrow is, It's changing. I only came here to delay my suicide maybe by at least one day further. I could hope for a laugh, but an honest one would take better, Than all the mechanics in the world, and maybe even — Some sort of heroic gesture, On my own part, As you know, I've got to be going. Tainted. Damaged. TINA FEY He's a little bit– We think he may be, special, maybe… SUDAKIS He's retarded. Hey! No, literally. What! Come on! All thumbs. What the fuck does that mean, anyway? *two thumbs down* What is the plot of this, anyway? I don't know anymore. I'm either adding to my portfolio or my suicide letter. Pretty fancy suicide letter. (It was a pretty fancy suicide.) There's a deadline. Did you catch any of these? Hey look; I've got my own interpreter. Why are we codeswitching? We're always codeswtiching. Why aren't they codeswitching? They're the code. Who wrote this programming? If you tell me that this– Astrophysicist. Astrophysis–wait, what? I told you don't fuck with Fallon! period! Very heavy emphasis on the delay in negotiating these terms. What do you make of it? Nothing. I'm just- Nothing? That's it. He's ending me. Just like that. Just like that! Are you serious? It's his game. I'm just in it. “Pawns” This, is the most powerful man in television. Why. You'll see. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

“Seth Meyers And the Cauldron of Doom” OMG— YOU have a cauldron of doom?! I have a cauldron of doom!!! DO NOT SHAKE THIS SNOWGLOBE. I had been avoiding Rockefeller plaza for months as it was, without the sometimes accidental ending up there anyway, and I thought not once but twice or three times about changing into my regular pants so that the deep pockets could hold my keys and passports sans wallet— or a purse and considered taking a notebook as well; on the list of prohibited items were backpacks and large bags, and though the dress code seemed to be null in void at all, I was happy to be able to wear my hat at least— and almost prepared to be dogged out, the last min it e change into my harem pants would probably be the comfortable choice; looking intentionally dressed down as a statement—a broad statement that I wasn't looking to be noticed at all, or trying to be noticed. The guest for the show was nearly an EGOT winner, probably younger, and definitely skinner and more beautiful than I was; a black woman, but a British woman, and it would be almost entirely impossible to think that besides Whoopi Goldberg, an American black woman would strive to win such a thing as an EGOT herself. Still, I was looking for a cure to the writer's block and crippling depression that I had been in, however—knowing who the president of Peacock was, and after the elections at all's though I knew NBC to be left-leaning— I didn't feel at all as if I would ever belong on the stage, and was quite happily taking my place as simply a fan…and audience member, though ready to creep back into obscurity, and probably more likely than not with a pint of Ben and Jerry's after the show. I had gone to see Drew Barrymore sand makeup, and would do the same, but only as a proclamation that I had read Tina Fey's book nearly religiously now rounding three times, and I almost wish I had an oversized black t-shirt which read “hot water heater” to accompany my lax look and blonde hair—a testament to her correctness standing, as the grossities of tinder loved “the blonde”, almost as if, without the hair I would be ugly, and just as much in the same breath, unworthy of such status anyway. But more than anything, I just wanted to be able to write again, at least for my own sake, and certainly not for anyone else's. I was still in hiatus, for the better, and had not completely recovered from the unbearable racism and parallel of doom the election had tossed me into with trajectory—in this world—supposedly “fascist”. I was comfortable enough in the jeans, but had nowhere to put my phone. I was ready to be dogged out and shown what a real a list celebrity looked like, and why I simply wasn't one. I left the house with a sink full of dishes, an unmade bed, and a pile of laundry unfolded—a pile of books in boxes I had collected for my son but would cost too much to send—almost as a testament to his sick I had been since the election. In this world, I was just another poor black fat single mother— a dead beat living in poverty. In trump's world, I was an ugly, poor nothing. Everywhere I had gone about the past week, the rich seemed richer and the poor poorer, the whites whiter and the blacks blacker, good gone and evil fleeting, with the return of the motorcycles and pieces of me dying, simply giving up. I planned my return to the workforce, and the eventual fortitude of my freedom; the wealthy had become more arrogant, and the rest of us more distraught. What was I going to rocketfeller plaza for, anyway? The news. My apartment was disgusting, but at least I had been to the gym—I had run the full mile and lifted and pulled, all with the gym to myself. My harem pants still felt even better, and for the first time in me months I ventured into the world in only one waist trainer. Be prepared to be [lost in a revolving door Be cool to the two dudes in blue suits goddamnit I never know where I'm going in this bitch. I can never breath in this bitch and I don't know why. How do you get lost at the rock? Like this: [Infinitely Lost at Rockafeller Plaza] This is why I avoid this place like the plague. Maybe I'm the plague. First of all, there's no track on the floor upstairs. (I've never been upstairs.) It's just store after store of ways to spend money. This is my only pair of clean socks. No shit, this is the reason practicing your mantras on the train becomes dangerous. DANGEROUS. Somewhere in the frenzy, I remember this. Frequency, however, Not yet partial to my own inner self, and empty in the array of superstardom, I become nothing, Only a spectator of celebrity— And now, suddenly. 8 remember this day Why? Suddenly, now, in the Is moment. Where I always have been, waiting for myself— I avoid Rockerfeller plaza at all costs. Why. I heard a grimlin lives here. Now is the time for Skrillex! I would really love you forever if you didn't. Que the Arc! Oh boy, this writer's block is a doozy. The only reason I had even bothered was because it was as if I had been summoned, as if something had clocked in my sense memory where, all of a sudden, looking at an unrelated picture of some kid on Tinee, with his hands covering his mouth the way that Stefon always did, made me immidiately stop whatever I was doing—probably eating tacos or pancakes, insurmountably out of bounds— and pausing the comedian I was watching instead, just to watch Stefon, and in the way that I remembered it all, it made me laugh. Although now, I knew exactly what he was talking about by the avant-grade and strangely abysmal club scene not just of the time, but of any time in New York City— and, somehow summoning a laugh even in the darkness that had been my own distraught and depression in the previous weeks, something of a belly roll laugh might have triggered something in the alrgorithm to send last minute tickets to my email in almost that exact moment. Are they going to tell me to take off my hat?! There was no dress code, They had better not tell me to take off my motherfucking hat. I won't do it. Fuck Seth Meyers . I'm not taking off my hat for Seth Meyers. Oh yeah. That's why I'm here. I found it hard to say that I was there for such a thing; I— I turned off my peripheral vision and hyperfocus. I didn't know there would be music. Goddammit. I had deleted Shazam filming for I love New York, an all but abandoned project—the writer's block had been too real, and now the real rest had come—would I laugh at anything in show show when in reality I wanted to cry? The way the lights kept going up and down as if it were intermission only slightly distracted from the fact that I had never seen a page in real life. THEY EXIST . I had never seen an actual NBC PAGE. GODDAMMIT GET THIS BLUE SUIT LOAFER WEARING MOTHERFUCKER OUT OF MY PERIPHERAL BEFORE I LOSE IT. Shoot a midget at her. What. Just do it. Don't do that. What Don't put the midget in the cannon. What! Thays's what he's here for! I'm a stunt double! This is a stunt. That's a horrible joke. That's not a joke. SHAZAM. WTF IS THIS. Some top 40 bullshit. Good, get it ( I'm never going to have any other l exposure to top 40, ever in my life. ) Congratulations, you've made the A list What?! NO FAIR. What. What does that mean. It means I can't do shit and mandatory attendance to everything. What is everything “Everythin—g.” Man, fuck this. Alright At this moment, I realize I must be some sort of autistic. Let's get this over with… I let the sound of my own mix blare in my ears to drown out the sound of whatever pop singer was on over the loud speakers; I didn't realize there would be music, and I hoped the flutter was good l. Maybe it was the lights, or whatever, but— SUNNI BLU what in the fuck dimention is this . It's the same dimension, you're just drunk. Ah. Now what? I was as uncomfortable as ever, there was a track on the higher level, but it didn't matter, the cattle call was contained inside of velvet ropes— black ones, unlike the typical red ones, and it was at this point I realized that not only had I never seen actual NBC pages— Yo, their skirts are kinda short… RIGHT. I THOUGHT THE PAGES WERE THE PARAGON OF SANCTITY! No, those are, um… Nvm. Maybe the ugly shoes distract from the shortness of their skirts on the general basis. Oh come on, nobody gives a fuck how ugly your shoes are if your skirt is that short! These are facts, Liz. No, I'm serious what dimention is this. I already told you. I had to ask for directions three times just get here. THIS IS MY LEVEL. why is your level on acid. Cause. This is—just— Where I'm at. CUT TO: Jimmy Fallon after Mardi Gras's. Come on that's not fair! {Enter The Multiverse} What exactly isn't fair?! He's in all the scenes. Well, how else are you going to explain a time traveling helicopter?! Got him. THERES MY INVISIBLE MOTORCYCLE. I'm not going to pa— Goddamn it. I'm not going to p— It actually hurt not to write and just stand there; but I still didn't feel like myself—or sound like myself—or look like myself; I was playing a character, I just didnt know who. As I moved forward in line, the music began to fade away behind me and into the nothingness that was whatever was behind, in front of, and all around me. I hated cattle calls, but after all, I was still just a fan and as the world began to fold into chaos, I realized that my pants were falling off of me, though I had been feeling fat, and walking, and running, and cycling, and protein shaking—the only thing that had gained any extra weight was my ass, which was exactly what I was intending on hiding with my same old usual harems. My blonde hair made it so that I stuck out like a sore thumb, but that didn't matter, I was a walking statement piece and almost in a fit of tears just thinking about my own status; the NBC pages probably all had crazy incredible accolades and numerous degrees and achievements—what was I, if anything at all— ? I had put the candles out, but had I left the stove on? Did I really unplug the nail dryer and leave the stove on? I had almost washed all of the dishes, but stopped just short of right on time to leave; my producer brain was on fire and wanted more pancakes, but however hard I tried I could not find where I had placed my EBT card; probably for the better—celebrities didn't carry EBT cards, and even my awkward general being thrown off by the doorman or security— —whichever I wasn't sure— standing outside of the roller rink— probably ice this time of year, by the looks of the Zamboni in the foreground of it… ‘Don't stop writing, no matter what. ‘ Dammit, dammit dammit— That seems inappropriate. I told you to get this motherfucker out of my peripheral before something— Nevermind, don't write that. [redacted] (But imma remember this shit cause it's heavy.) A remarkable and accidental tableau, My feet flat to the floor, as my ankles bare, This is my only pair of hole-less socks. I feel so much better with my back against the wall and Listening to mau5 and, Not giving a fuck about the music playing Or the people watching But keeping it for later Forgetting how to codeswitch, Just an ever so limited existence Trying not to stick out like a sore thumb in the wrong world It's a long way up, But even longer way down, And in all the demoralizing humiliation and emasculation, I realize I'm no man at all, No man at all I realize I'm no man at all, No man at all, No mana I realized my son's Lego Lamborghini should be waiting for me as I returned to my apartment in Brooklyn probably starting but pretending not to care; I winced at everything— this was a dangerous disaster, to even be in the building at all and edging closer to death were the secrets I kept that were not only secrets, but non existences. Nothing in nothing and nothing— Oh shit, is the suffering done? This is the end of the End of the end It's the Beginning of the end It's the end of the beginning This will be the end Of the end Of the end, This will be the end of the end Of the end Of the end Of the beginning Of the end Of the beginning of the end. This will be the end Of the end Of the end Of the beginning of the beginning Of the end of the end Of the beginning Of the end This will be the end Of the beginning Of the beginning Of the beginning Of the end Of the end Of the end This will be the end Of the beginning of the beginning This will be the beginning of the beginning of the beginning This will be the beginning, The beginning of the end This will be the end of the end of the end This will be the end of the end of the end This will be the end (This will be the end) Of the beginning This will be the beginning The beginning of the beginning Of the end My friends. LET US COMMECE! All of it, this is recorded history, Smoke and mirrors, here portions and pardons This is probably why can't breathe at the rock Was I here last time; I choked last time I wrote nothing remarkable at all (Nothing remarkable at all.) I love getting lost at the rock Okay, this is the host— This is the host of the show (I think I lost my lunch before.) I was at a show, I never woke up, Okay; This is the host This is the host (This is the host) This is the host. Cue the Nirvana; Curtains go up, I don't want to see the show, I just want to host it. I don't want to get lost no more On the way to the rock Or the store Cause only one train goes there I wanna climb the straits to the top Get lost at the rock, Guess this isn't he host huh This is the lost god, That was a long walk The top of the rock off is a long jump And I'm still in talks how's every morning Someone told me not to ignore you So, this is the host, huh. Someone told me, go hard or go home (Almost time tknkove) Parenthesises, please and—Parenthetical, hypotheticals and paleontology's, Please, I need a mixologist (And anthologist) Please slow down to peace, Mr poltergeist, Please Mr poltergeist The ghost of Mr giest I'm doing a hiest Please, slow down mister poltergeist, Please for the peace Mr. Poltergeist, Or what have you? How old are you, 40. I'm the whole medium and still, Nice to meat you sir. A house made of mediums I hope that shock, And I hop to the rock there's still something in it A pogo stick Or a poltergeist Slow down, poltergeist. Terrible timing, Victoria Beckham and monsuier, Please Mr, I mean it no more— If I'm Mr ooltergieat (A policeman and polgergeist) Please, sir, no jokes. All sandwhich, no buns and pastrmi, And all the God, I'm going cold, I'm going ghost again And a the god, on all the rocks, I'm going old, I'm going cold again; On all the God on all the rocks, I'm going God, I'm going old again Hold on again, mi got a song again? I'm just a serviceman WATCH OUT FOR THE DOORMAN. MORE FUEL. So all the Rockerfeller plazas on all the earths aim alll yhr parallel dimensions can actually communicate with each other RADIO CITY BABBBBBBBYYYYYYY! OH GOD. WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE Did you get his dog's name!? I think so. Good. [meniacal rubbing of hands] good. Cue the nirvana. Cue the m— Mitosis. The migos. Nah, I can't catch the flow. There it is. [the flow is a literal] Something medicinal in this meniacal, is this I spy a specscle, monocle— monopoly, Time to go, it's the devil at my left; Time for the fight against darkness, And it all is, Cause this is the ark, Noah This is the arc, God. This is apartheid and apart from that. You're fired. What. You heard me. But—I'm Seth Meyers. That's debatable. I am! I'm Seth Meyers. If you say so. This is nonsense. It's not nonsense. It is nonsense. And it's also impossible; cause this is my show. It's my show, I'M SETH MEYERS. Debatable, Not debatable. I'm ME. THAT'S ME. Debatable. I can't even hear the words, But the bass is so fire, I summon Shazam! …I want a ham sandwhich. Oh good! He's alive. Ham. Sandwhich. What the fuck happened buddy?! Where were you man?! —Zoolander. What. disleylandhamsandwhich. Get him a sandwhich!!!!! YO QUIERO CUBANO. Here's your sandwhich. CUBANO. Remember what you look like Who you are What your place is What you weigh, And Check your status Remember how still started What your mark is And what happened to your wallet; Did you leave the stove on Do you put the show on; Did you miss your mark Your mom was hotter Please remember the circumstances In which you—- [BLACKOUT] After several days gone completely missing, Jimmy Fallon is found under the craft services table sleeping peacefully. The apparatus I entered in with Is not adjusted to this condition The biometrics are non concurrent; {enter the multiverse} I felt tragic. By the time I got back to my apartment, my ribcage was showing again—although I had only been wearing one waist trainer, it was the skimpy one, and it was already wearing, it was after all eight dollars. Really and once and for all, something had come over me at Rockerfeller plaza that I didn't understand. I was more awkward and nervous than usual, and sure that I should have eaten, but couldn't —even after a long gym session, there was no time for food before the show, and I had no stomach for it. I chose to as much as I could ignore the code switching, and the more I picked it up, the further my mind began to drift. —a door slammed. My documents were probably compromised, and my phone hacked which I might have guessed, but continuing the thought I had often wondered how or why anything could have possibly known what I had written, or how—or how anyone would know what I had written, or of the things I had written, and most importantly of all—what did I write?! Most of the previous months' entries into the festival project were a blank, and the time I had spent considerably enough sifting through whatever masked man acting in part of Fallon, whoever he really was had been turbulent, as if I had been disfigured to be brainwashed into half a mind—then, slowly peeking back the layers of such a chaotic artifact of time and this, Seth Meyers, to whom now I had become a loyal fan, an actual fan—and had noticed something ingenuously crafted here. A genuine and talented, very kind and gifted man, who was not in any sense miserable or in peril. Peril, so to speak, as I remembered the almost villainous approach that the decent into madness had accompanied this Fallon and his mask, and besides this was the assumption that Seth Meyers, though professionally trained as such, seemed happy. Fallon did not. We had all learned to craft masks in order to protect our inner selves—however, with such a veil lifted as the partitioned screen of all does, this spoke to me with numerous volumes and sometimes even screamed, with the ethics of no worse a gentleman than some surgeon soldier or sailor and no more a nobleman than a king or god itself; I had not been Shocked and all but murmured even to just the slightest gawk of just an awkward cry, a muster of some shallow disaster which had called me to all of them— to whom I had loved and yet somehow not known, at least being here—and here I was, slightly convulsed, bearing no armor and gripping at the fortitude of death's barriers; On wheels with no bearings plummeted towards a forged death of sorts, by my own hands but also at the hands of others, the forgery calling from the halls of a place I had known as once my own fortress; but was no more. I belonged and now, almost with gratitude, to the eye of all gods, and all things that moved. No cherished nature, perhaps, was this into my own eye, but of disgust for what I had not yet accomplished, and still might never— I was a skull and crossbones with no love, and nothing known at all besides my own. —Tales of a superstar DJ “16 Songs” I got it. What's that. The thing that sets Seth Meyers apart from the other hosts. What is it? Seth Meyers is not a host—he's an anchor. Goddammit, you're right . I know I'm right. GODDAMIT. It just took me this long to figure it out . Great. Now how long's it gonna get you to take this thing fixed. Possibly forever. Entaer The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

We are back after some technical issues, and an emotional election cycle. There are many people feeling many different ways right now across the globe, and many people that also are trying to control the narrative on how Christians should be feeling. Stefon Napier joins me this week to discuss the reality of Christian Lament, why people are mourning right now, and how new monasticism can help us see the Biblical way forward as a Church.For more information on Ministry Misfits visit www.ministrymisfits.comTo become a Patron for Ministry Misfits visit www.patreon.com/ministrymisfitsSend us a textSupport the showFollow us on Twitter: www.twitter.com/ministrymisfitFollow us on Instagram: www.instagram.com/ministrymisfitFollow us on Facebook: www.facebook.com/ministrymisfitBecome a Patron: www.patreon.com/ministrymisfits

We are back after some technical issues, and an emotional election cycle. There are many people feeling many different ways right now across the globe, and many people that also are trying to control the narrative on how Christians should be feeling. Stefon Napier joins me this week to discuss the reality of Christian Lament, why people are mourning right now, and how new monasticism can help us see the Biblical way forward as a Church.For more information on Ministry Misfits visit www.ministrymisfits.comTo become a Patron for Ministry Misfits visit www.patreon.com/ministrymisfitsSend us a textSupport the showFollow us on Twitter: www.twitter.com/ministrymisfitFollow us on Instagram: www.instagram.com/ministrymisfitFollow us on Facebook: www.facebook.com/ministrymisfitBecome a Patron: www.patreon.com/ministrymisfits

text us if..."I'm sorry. Some people just aren't meant to be together." - Martin KeamyIn this episode: 'Stefon' impression, "squish" sounds, and gaslightingIn other news, all Lisa's SNL impressions go right over Agnes' head. Original episode air date 03/30/2010Support the showCheck out Spreadshop!http://arthemisclothing.ca - Use SASSPOD for 15% off https://www.muzmm.com- Code SASSPOD for 20% offhttps://www.podpage.com/?via=sasspod to create your own webpagehttps://www.buzzsprout.com/?referrer_id=682706 to start your own podhttps://www.lyft.com/i/LISA594490?utm_medium=p2pi_iacc For a LyftGet in touch:(732) 595-2922sass.n.sips@gmail.com or sassnsips.comIG @sassnsipsFB @Sass N SipsTwitter @SassSipsIG @RealSassyLisaIG @RealsassyBritYouTube @Sass N SipsPodchaser podchaser.com/sassnsipsClips used in this podcast were used in accordance with the US Copyrights act FAIR USE Exemption for critic...

Tracking back to Sunday's game regarding the Texans against the Colts, Texans star wide receiver Stefon Diggs goes down late in the third quarter following an apparent noncontact knee injury. With a surprising injury occurring for Diggs and with a short week following Sunday's matchup, to the Texans next game on Thursday night against Aaron Rodgers and the Jets, many raise concern if Diggs will be cleared for Thursday's game. With roster depth becoming a bit of a hassle now, being short on both sides of the ball with Nico Collins, Dameon Pierce, and Azeez all very vital players that are still not on the active roster yet many tend to wonder has Diggs joined the uncertainty list on whether he will return or not this season. Preparing for Thursday night's game against the Jets, should the Texans begin game-planning without Stefon this week?

The guys discuss how Diggs and Dell looked yesterday

On this episode of, “Ima Shut Up!” Our host rants about ride share driver problems to reacting to Facebook responses * Ride share problems * Why is p**** used as an insult? * Stefon was digging * Raw dogging society * Celebrity arrests * Football review + Top 5* Forgotten rappers * On the cob activities * Today in black history * Facebook questions * Current event Song of the day: MGN - HeIsMellowD Follow the pod on all socials @imashutup.podFollow the host on all socials @heismellowd Make sure you like share comment follow subscribe leave reviews so this podcast can grow!

Kelli and Sarah are joined by their superstar producer, Grace, to recap Season 9 of Below Deck Med, Stefon-style. Grace gives us her thoughts on this season of Med and we give her an assignment to catch up on Sailing Yacht. In Hot Tub Convo Kelli has a Mean Girls update, we discuss OBX, Hayley and Trossey at DWTS, Jono and Joe's WWHL appearance, the Med After Show, what happened with Gael and Nathan postseason and read a listener comment. Be sure to catch us on the Minimum Rage Podcast!  Follow us on Instagram: @abovedeckpod  Get in touch: abovedeckpod@gmail.com  Get ya some Above Deck merch! https://shop.hurrdatmedia.com/collections/above-deck Please subscribe on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or wherever you get your podcasts, and tell a friend!  Resources: Minimum Rage episode: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/90s-parents-didnt-care-who-watched-their-kids/id1729656634?i=1000671380852 https://open.spotify.com/episode/75g9SQG5yua3aX6xStHCxw?si=T_cW6ebCQHa_8uXPtEa3UQ Minimum Rage on IG: https://www.instagram.com/minimumrage.podcast/ Grace's cat on TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@thereal.davidthecat?_t=8qLgUhAetaN&_r=1 This is another Hurrdat Media Production. Hurrdat Media is a podcast network and digital media production company based in Omaha, NE. Find more podcasts on the Hurrdat Media Network by going to HurrdatMedia.com or Hurrdat Media YouTube channel! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In this episode, Rob & DT discuss our Bills being served up a huge piece of 'humble pie' courtesy of the Baltimore Ravens on Sunday Night Football 35-10 in the worst blowout we've suffered in almost three years!!! Then the fellas turn their attention to the big matchup in H-Town this Sunday against the Texans and you know who.What the heck was that?!?!?! From the offense sputtering to start the game all the way to literally the first play from scrimmage for BAL, Buffalo looked outclassed and were thoroughly outcoached on SNF. And just when you could start to think we were ready to mount a comeback, Joe Brady picks that as the perfect time to run one of the dumbest trick plays DT & Rob have ever seen. It was just that kind of night in Maryland and DT is happy to get it out of the way now early in the season.Rob isn't so sure the Bills haven't reached their injury maximum as they continue to mount ahead of Sunday's matchup with Houston. Four starters were ruled out for the game today by McD and it has Rob concerned against what seems to be an offense that can put points up in bunches with elite weapons. Speaking of elite weapons, Houston has someone who used to play for the Bills catching passes for them but Rob can't seem to remember his name, lol. In all seriousness, Stefon is going to be looking to go nuclear on the Bills secondary and they best be ready. Although DT brings up a great point about how the Bills might be able to use that fuel against this young Texans team on Sunday.Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/nickel-city-crew-podcast--5347543/support.

In this episode, Rob & DT discuss our Bills being served up a huge piece of 'humble pie' courtesy of the Baltimore Ravens on Sunday Night Football 35-10 in the worst blowout we've suffered in almost three years!!! Then the fellas turn their attention to the big matchup in H-Town this Sunday against the Texans and you know who. What the heck was that?!?!?! From the offense sputtering to start the game all the way to literally the first play from scrimmage for BAL, Buffalo looked outclassed and were thoroughly outcoached on SNF. And just when you could start to think we were ready to mount a comeback, Joe Brady picks that as the perfect time to run one of the dumbest trick plays DT & Rob have ever seen. It was just that kind of night in Maryland and DT is happy to get it out of the way now early in the season. Rob isn't so sure the Bills haven't reached their injury maximum as they continue to mount ahead of Sunday's matchup with Houston. Four starters were ruled out for the game today by McD and it has Rob concerned against what seems to be an offense that can put points up in bunches with elite weapons. Speaking of elite weapons, Houston has someone who used to play for the Bills catching passes for them but Rob can't seem to remember his name, lol. In all seriousness, Stefon is going to be looking to go nuclear on the Bills secondary and they best be ready. Although DT brings up a great point about how the Bills might be able to use that fuel against this young Texans team on Sunday. --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/buffalofambase/support

Ammi and Keith are joined this week by special guest Stefon Lowman. We discuss all kinds of things surrounding discipleship specifically as it pertains to Paul's letter to the Romans. If you have any questions or comments please send them to us at clemsonfoothills@gmail.com

Why are folks committed to Stefon being the bad guy?

ITL Hour 3: Why are folks committed to Stefon being the bad guy? ITL Lunch-Time Confessions, Is it that cold outside? QOTD: What landmark epitomizes/defines Houston for you?

ITL Hour 1: ITL goes through the pecking order in the AFC and where the Texans rank. Carmen Vitali, NFC North reporter for Fox Sports joins the show to discuss Texans vs Bears. Baseball Spo joins the show to discuss the Astros loss to the A's. ITL Hour 2: Around The NFL, Joe Mixon AFC Offensive Player of the Week, Deshaun Watson details to his contracts made available, and more. What is the optimal distribution for the run with the Texans? ITL discuss. What's Popping, Astros lose in extra innings, Desmond King officially signed to the PS. ITL Hour 3: Why are folks committed to Stefon being the bad guy? ITL Lunch-Time Confessions, Is it that cold outside? QOTD: What landmark epitomizes/defines Houston for you? ITL Hour 4: NFL Overreaction or Reality with ITL. Figgy's Mixtape: The Big Debate and what's something some people think they want until they get it?

Whoever winds up being the Bills' top receiver has a chance to be extremely valuable for fantasy football. But will we be able to tell who that is based on training-camp stories? We'll discuss that topic plus many others for teams of the AFC East. What will the Dolphins do with their backfield? Will we be able to discern whether the Jets and Aaron Rodgers can be vastly more competent on offense? Will we get enough info from Patriots training camp to find late-round value? We'll talk about these teams plus discuss Stefon Diggs's 2024 fantasy draft value! Guest: Jake Ciely of The Athletic.   NOTES: Sponsor - www.WildGrain.com/harris for $30 off your subscription of artisanal bread, pasta and pastries Sponsor - www.leesa.com/harris and use code HARRIS for up to $725 off on a great mattress plus two free pillows, a $120 value Sponsor - www.DraftKings.com code HARRIS for a free contest with your initial deposit to play our favorite DFS games, including our weekly listener contest Follow Jake Ciely - @allinkid Follow our show - @HarrisFootball Get the 2024 Harris Football Almanac - https://www.harrisfootball.com/2024-player-profile-almanac Become a patron - www.patreon.com/harrisfootball Become a Person of the Book - https://www.amazon.com/Christopher-Harris/e/B007V3P4KK Watch the YouTube channel - www.youtube.com/harrisfootball Harris Football Yacht Club Dictionary - https://harrisfootball.github.io/dictionary.html Join the Harris Football Subreddit - www.reddit.com/r/HarrisFootball   AFC East Players Discussed Today: Keon Coleman / Curtis Samuel / Khalil Shakir Dalton Kincaid / Dawson Knox James Cook / Ty Johnson / Ray Davis De'Von Achane / Raheem Mostert / Jaylen Wright Odell Beckham / Jonnu Smith Aaron Rodgers Mike Williams / Malachi Corley / Jason Brownlee Demario Douglas / Kendrick Bourne / Ja'Lynn Polk Rhamondre Stevenson / Antonio Gibson

Damon gets to talk to Stefon about his new teaching gig, new album, his app, empathy, A.I. and more! There are also segments like gig alerts, music news and others. 

*Stefon voice* This podcast episode with Rohan has everything: media speculation, Sports Illustrated tea, Michael Jordan comparisons, LeBron James speculation, salads, sandwiches, goaltending, and a fake ad that is definetely not real but feels like a real ad. And as always, they dive into the Funbag, answering real questions from real listeners.Do you want to hear your question answered on the pod? Well, give us a call at 909-726-3720. That is 909-PANERA-0!Sponsors- Raycon, where you can get 20% off your order and free shipping at https://raycon.com/distraction- Blueland, where you can get 15% off your first order at https://blueland.com/distractionCredits- Hosts: Drew Magary & David Roth- Producer: Eric Silver- Editor: Brandon Grugle- Production Services & Ads: Multitude- Subscribe to Defector!About The ShowThe Distraction is Defector's flagship podcast about sports (and movies, and art, and sandwiches, and certain coastal states) from longtime writers Drew Magary and David Roth. Every week, Drew and Roth tackle subjects, both serious and impossibly stupid, with a parade of guests from around the world of sports and media joining in the fun! Roth and Drew also field Funbag questions from Defector readers, answer listener voicemails, and get upset about the number of people who use speakerphone while in a public bathroom stall. This is a show where everything matters, because everyone could use a Distraction. Head to defector.com for more info.

Tony Kornheiser and Pablo Torre come together to discuss the biggest topics in sports including how the Stefon Diggs trade will affect Josh Allen and C.J. Stroud, what NBA center had the better night last night, and if Bryce Harper or Ricardo Pinto played better last night.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Seth takes a closer look at Donald Trump saying he would encourage Russia to attack NATO allies if they don't pay their bills while a special counsel attacks Biden's age in a report clearing him of any wrongdoing.Then, Beanie Feldstein talks about wanting Saturday Night Live's Stefon to be her valentine this year, accidentally frightening her wedding guest while naked and longtime friend Ben Platt singing for her and her wife during their first dance.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.