Podcasts about swallowed

Someone help me. What happened. What's good bro. I think deadmau5 is my cat. Nah. You're serious? I'm…deadfuckingnserious. What makes you think that? [cat is deadmau5] lol isn't it super torturous as fuck as a woman knowing All you really want is for like, one man to like , Just like you, But dudes are notorious for like— Never ever really being able to just ”like” one person? Like dudes like everyone They are notorious whoooores. The like everybody. The older I get like the worse it gets Like here's this guy I like And I pretty much mostly just like him But then like, Look at all these girls! Fuuuuck that! NICOLE BYER OH LOOK. ITS DUM-DUM! this is because I keep forgetting you, isn't it? NICOLE BYER Yes it IS. this might actually be my favorite part of the story. BLŪ is taking a shower when suddenly— NICOLE BYER appears out of nowhere. HEY DUM-DUM. JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a picturesque and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies—. THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had to come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and tricks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be careful of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark--which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth of The force that the shadows could not bare— there were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the niceties of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affluent east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools and good old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowledge the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperament to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {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.

Someone help me. What happened. What's good bro. I think deadmau5 is my cat. Nah. You're serious? I'm…deadfuckingnserious. What makes you think that? [cat is deadmau5] lol isn't it super torturous as fuck as a woman knowing All you really want is for like, one man to like , Just like you, But dudes are notorious for like— Never ever really being able to just ”like” one person? Like dudes like everyone They are notorious whoooores. The like everybody. The older I get like the worse it gets Like here's this guy I like And I pretty much mostly just like him But then like, Look at all these girls! Fuuuuck that! NICOLE BYER OH LOOK. ITS DUM-DUM! this is because I keep forgetting you, isn't it? NICOLE BYER Yes it IS. this might actually be my favorite part of the story. BLŪ is taking a shower when suddenly— NICOLE BYER appears out of nowhere. HEY DUM-DUM. JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a picturesque and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies—. THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had to come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and tricks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be careful of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark--which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth of The force that the shadows could not bare— there were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the niceties of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affluent east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools and good old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowledge the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperament to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {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.

Someone help me. What happened. What's good bro. I think deadmau5 is my cat. Nah. You're serious? I'm…deadfuckingnserious. What makes you think that? [cat is deadmau5] lol isn't it super torturous as fuck as a woman knowing All you really want is for like, one man to like , Just like you, But dudes are notorious for like— Never ever really being able to just ”like” one person? Like dudes like everyone They are notorious whoooores. The like everybody. The older I get like the worse it gets Like here's this guy I like And I pretty much mostly just like him But then like, Look at all these girls! Fuuuuck that! NICOLE BYER OH LOOK. ITS DUM-DUM! this is because I keep forgetting you, isn't it? NICOLE BYER Yes it IS. this might actually be my favorite part of the story. BLŪ is taking a shower when suddenly— NICOLE BYER appears out of nowhere. HEY DUM-DUM. JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a picturesque and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies—. THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had to come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and tricks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be careful of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark--which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth of The force that the shadows could not bare— there were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the niceties of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affluent east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools and good old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowledge the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperament to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {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.

Someone help me. What happened. What's good bro. I think deadmau5 is my cat. Nah. You're serious? I'm…deadfuckingnserious. What makes you think that? [cat is deadmau5] lol isn't it super torturous as fuck as a woman knowing All you really want is for like, one man to like , Just like you, But dudes are notorious for like— Never ever really being able to just ”like” one person? Like dudes like everyone They are notorious whoooores. The like everybody. The older I get like the worse it gets Like here's this guy I like And I pretty much mostly just like him But then like, Look at all these girls! Fuuuuck that! NICOLE BYER OH LOOK. ITS DUM-DUM! this is because I keep forgetting you, isn't it? NICOLE BYER Yes it IS. this might actually be my favorite part of the story. BLŪ is taking a shower when suddenly— NICOLE BYER appears out of nowhere. HEY DUM-DUM. JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a picturesque and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies—. THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had to come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and tricks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be careful of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark--which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth of The force that the shadows could not bare— there were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the niceties of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affluent east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools and good old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowledge the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperament to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {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.

Someone help me. What happened. What's good bro. I think deadmau5 is my cat. Nah. You're serious? I'm…deadfuckingnserious. What makes you think that? [cat is deadmau5] lol isn't it super torturous as fuck as a woman knowing All you really want is for like, one man to like , Just like you, But dudes are notorious for like— Never ever really being able to just ”like” one person? Like dudes like everyone They are notorious whoooores. The like everybody. The older I get like the worse it gets Like here's this guy I like And I pretty much mostly just like him But then like, Look at all these girls! Fuuuuck that! NICOLE BYER OH LOOK. ITS DUM-DUM! this is because I keep forgetting you, isn't it? NICOLE BYER Yes it IS. this might actually be my favorite part of the story. BLŪ is taking a shower when suddenly— NICOLE BYER appears out of nowhere. HEY DUM-DUM. JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a picturesque and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies—. THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had to come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and tricks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be careful of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark--which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth of The force that the shadows could not bare— there were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the niceties of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affluent east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools and good old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowledge the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperament to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {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.

JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a pictures and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies— THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had too come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and ticks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be csrefyl of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark/-which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth if The force that the shadows could not bare— thee were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the nicities of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affient east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowlege the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperment to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {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. DJ NAMES: -Ū. | Happy Accidents! [H∆!], c o l o r s, Uptown A GENRE TAGS: ACID, ELECTRONIC, EXPERIMENTAL, DANCE, DUBSTEP DESCRIPTION: Prepare for sonic seismic activity! "Freaky Fridays" with the enigmatic -Ū. is about to detonate on the airwaves, bringing you the biggest bass explosion since the Big Bang itself! Climb aboard the mothership every Friday from 11 AM to 1 PM and launch your weekend into orbit with a mind-bending blend of clever soundwaves and subterranean bass frequencies that stretch from infinity and beyond. Forget the surface – the sound of the underground is pure fire and untamed heat with DJ -Ū. at the helm. This mononymous maestro, sometimes materializing under the mysterious and mesmerizing aliases Happy Accidents, c o l o r s, or even the warehouse tycoon Uptown A, is a sonic enigma. Though a Californian beach bum at heart, with a soul steeped in ocean vibes and sunshine, this DJ has found a home for her dance-fueled chaos in the industrial heartland of dance music, Brooklyn. Get ready for a swift punch of chaotic wonder as -Ū. seamlessly blends the Hollywood movie magic of her homeland – think swaying palms and suave vibes – with the gritty twists and turns from the bunkers of bass music: dubstep, UK garage, techno, new wave, drum-n-bass, and genre-bending mind-fluxes that defy categorization. But wait: There's More! -Ū. isn't just about the bass. This sonic time traveler digs deep into generations of music history, unearthing classic rock anthems, psychedelic soundscapes, trance-inducing rhythms, and those precious b-sides and rarities – forgotten gems from the stage, silver screen, and even the epic realms of fantasy, action, and adventure from blockbuster hits to obscure and insane. -Ū. is a one-of-a-kind Pandora's record box, unleashing a thrilling mix of sonic atrocities and unexpected delights – the sounds you didn't know you were craving. So, relax, strap in, and prepare for a sweet ride filled with magic, wonder, and jaw-dropping surprises as this time-traveling tycoon hits the radio waves with the freakiest, Friday-est, no-holds-barred, anything-goes sound the world has been waiting to hear! Tune in every Friday from 11 AM to 1 PM for literally 'whatever, man.' with your affectionate Captain, Blū Tha Gürū (-Ū.), and keep your ears peeled for guest appearances by [Any Alias Whatsoever.] Peace + Love. FREAKY FRIDAY 005. LIVE Originally Aired July 11th, 2025 Brooklyn, New York

A staggeringly huge wall separates day from night, and rich from poor, on a planet that's tidally locked with its star.Season 3, Episode 5Geoff cards played - Wall, Netherworld, Old Person, Drifter, Goblin, A Trap, BuriedMark cards played - Dawn, Treasure, Dreaming, Map, Swallowed whole, This breaks, ImprisonedContact us at brotherslessgrimm@gmail.comAnd just to be clear -- we are not affiliated with Atlas games in any way

JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a pictures and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies— THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had too come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and ticks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be csrefyl of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark/-which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth if The force that the shadows could not bare— thee were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the nicities of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affient east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowlege the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperment to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {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. DJ NAMES: -Ū. | Happy Accidents! [H∆!], c o l o r s, Uptown A GENRE TAGS: ACID, ELECTRONIC, EXPERIMENTAL, DANCE, DUBSTEP DESCRIPTION: Prepare for sonic seismic activity! "Freaky Fridays" with the enigmatic -Ū. is about to detonate on the airwaves, bringing you the biggest bass explosion since the Big Bang itself! Climb aboard the mothership every Friday from 11 AM to 1 PM and launch your weekend into orbit with a mind-bending blend of clever soundwaves and subterranean bass frequencies that stretch from infinity and beyond. Forget the surface – the sound of the underground is pure fire and untamed heat with DJ -Ū. at the helm. This mononymous maestro, sometimes materializing under the mysterious and mesmerizing aliases Happy Accidents, c o l o r s, or even the warehouse tycoon Uptown A, is a sonic enigma. Though a Californian beach bum at heart, with a soul steeped in ocean vibes and sunshine, this DJ has found a home for her dance-fueled chaos in the industrial heartland of dance music, Brooklyn. Get ready for a swift punch of chaotic wonder as -Ū. seamlessly blends the Hollywood movie magic of her homeland – think swaying palms and suave vibes – with the gritty twists and turns from the bunkers of bass music: dubstep, UK garage, techno, new wave, drum-n-bass, and genre-bending mind-fluxes that defy categorization. But wait: There's More! -Ū. isn't just about the bass. This sonic time traveler digs deep into generations of music history, unearthing classic rock anthems, psychedelic soundscapes, trance-inducing rhythms, and those precious b-sides and rarities – forgotten gems from the stage, silver screen, and even the epic realms of fantasy, action, and adventure from blockbuster hits to obscure and insane. -Ū. is a one-of-a-kind Pandora's record box, unleashing a thrilling mix of sonic atrocities and unexpected delights – the sounds you didn't know you were craving. So, relax, strap in, and prepare for a sweet ride filled with magic, wonder, and jaw-dropping surprises as this time-traveling tycoon hits the radio waves with the freakiest, Friday-est, no-holds-barred, anything-goes sound the world has been waiting to hear! Tune in every Friday from 11 AM to 1 PM for literally 'whatever, man.' with your affectionate Captain, Blū Tha Gürū (-Ū.), and keep your ears peeled for guest appearances by [Any Alias Whatsoever.] Peace + Love. FREAKY FRIDAY 005. LIVE Originally Aired July 11th, 2025 Brooklyn, New York

JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a pictures and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies— THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had too come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and ticks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be csrefyl of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark/-which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth if The force that the shadows could not bare— thee were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the nicities of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affient east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowlege the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperment to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {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. DJ NAMES: -Ū. | Happy Accidents! [H∆!], c o l o r s, Uptown A GENRE TAGS: ACID, ELECTRONIC, EXPERIMENTAL, DANCE, DUBSTEP DESCRIPTION: Prepare for sonic seismic activity! "Freaky Fridays" with the enigmatic -Ū. is about to detonate on the airwaves, bringing you the biggest bass explosion since the Big Bang itself! Climb aboard the mothership every Friday from 11 AM to 1 PM and launch your weekend into orbit with a mind-bending blend of clever soundwaves and subterranean bass frequencies that stretch from infinity and beyond. Forget the surface – the sound of the underground is pure fire and untamed heat with DJ -Ū. at the helm. This mononymous maestro, sometimes materializing under the mysterious and mesmerizing aliases Happy Accidents, c o l o r s, or even the warehouse tycoon Uptown A, is a sonic enigma. Though a Californian beach bum at heart, with a soul steeped in ocean vibes and sunshine, this DJ has found a home for her dance-fueled chaos in the industrial heartland of dance music, Brooklyn. Get ready for a swift punch of chaotic wonder as -Ū. seamlessly blends the Hollywood movie magic of her homeland – think swaying palms and suave vibes – with the gritty twists and turns from the bunkers of bass music: dubstep, UK garage, techno, new wave, drum-n-bass, and genre-bending mind-fluxes that defy categorization. But wait: There's More! -Ū. isn't just about the bass. This sonic time traveler digs deep into generations of music history, unearthing classic rock anthems, psychedelic soundscapes, trance-inducing rhythms, and those precious b-sides and rarities – forgotten gems from the stage, silver screen, and even the epic realms of fantasy, action, and adventure from blockbuster hits to obscure and insane. -Ū. is a one-of-a-kind Pandora's record box, unleashing a thrilling mix of sonic atrocities and unexpected delights – the sounds you didn't know you were craving. So, relax, strap in, and prepare for a sweet ride filled with magic, wonder, and jaw-dropping surprises as this time-traveling tycoon hits the radio waves with the freakiest, Friday-est, no-holds-barred, anything-goes sound the world has been waiting to hear! Tune in every Friday from 11 AM to 1 PM for literally 'whatever, man.' with your affectionate Captain, Blū Tha Gürū (-Ū.), and keep your ears peeled for guest appearances by [Any Alias Whatsoever.] Peace + Love. FREAKY FRIDAY 005. LIVE Originally Aired July 11th, 2025 Brooklyn, New York

Are you feeling pulled in every direction—phone buzzing, people demanding, and your brain foggy beyond belief?In this episode, you'll explore the deeper reason behind your distraction and disconnection, and how staying sane starts with your relationship to your own energy, not your to-do list.Learn why your environment is shaping your energy more than you realize, how to find your inner stillness when everything feels chaotic, and what to do when you literally can't focus on anything anymore.Press play to reconnect with yourself and reclaim your focus—without escaping the world around you.New episodes out every Monday and Thursday at 10 AM Eastern Time Want to stop feeling empty? THE INTERNAL RENEWING BLUEPRINT.https://thegentlewarrior.coEmail justinegliskis@justinegliskis.com to get in contact with JustinDiscover a podcast designed for entrepreneurs and solopreneurs navigating the challenges of entrepreneurship, offering insights on stress management, health and wellness, and overcoming imposter syndrome, while emphasizing work-life balance, energy alignment, and inner peace; explore topics like burnout recovery, business automation, scaling a business, business growth strategies, client management, mental resilience, overcoming anxiety, and achieving clearer thinking for sustainable success, using the blade of awareness, solving emotional dysfunction and unveiling the trickster within

In this video, we explore the mind-boggling possibility of the Milky Way being swallowed by a black hole. Discover the science behind black holes and their impact on galaxies like ours in this thought-provoking video. Check it out on YouTube: https://youtu.be/RtoNjOc7OiI?si=ZGiqwQzpLPdH4jud Animation is created by Bright Side. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Music by Epidemic Sound https://www.epidemicsound.com Check our Bright Side podcast on Spotify and leave a positive review! https://open.spotify.com/show/0hUkPxD... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Our Social Media: Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/brightside Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/brightside.... TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@brightside.of... Stock materials (photos, footages and other): https://www.depositphotos.com https://www.shutterstock.com https://www.eastnews.ru ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- For more videos and articles visit: http://www.brightside.me Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

A man swiped on Tinder 2 million times (yes, really), someone swallowed their house key after a night out, and Lakey can’t get over The Carpet Man from New York. We get weird with a toilet-themed quiz, dive into the most unusual baby names, and Bronte turns to the people for urgent hair advice.Subscribe on LiSTNR: https://play.listnr.com/podcasts/seafm-gold-coast-breakfastSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Jessup Doubt reports in with Curdy and SALI about the case he is pursuing regarding the device stolen from MacDoug MacDougle and the Time Academy. Swallowed into an Everlater or a Left, Jessup the invisible detective and Isla, an old flame from long ago are headed who knows where? 

This Postmodern Realities episode is a conversation with JOURNAL author William P. Cheshire about his article, “Has Science Swallowed the Myth of Jonah's Whale? “. https://www.equip.org/articles/has-science-swallowed-the-myth-of-jonahs-whale/Don't miss an episode; please subscribe to the Postmodern Realities podcast wherever you get your favorite podcasts. Please help spread the word about Postmodern Realities by giving us a rating and review when you subscribe to the podcast. The more ratings and reviews we have, the more new listeners can discover our content.

2:23" - My son drove his car off a mountain

6pm: Guest – Bill D’agostino, Senior research analyst at media research center // Media Research Center Study examines the media’s use of “far right” vs “far left” // Today in History // 1844 - Religious founder Joseph Smith killed by mob // Chinese man, 64, finds toothbrush he swallowed at age 12 stuck in intestine, needs surgery 

Another Tibbits Summer Theatre Popcorn Theatre production opens this Friday morning.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Fosforo 1820: I brani della striscia numero 4 della settimana: Tandem Playlist; Nick Hempton and Cory Weeds - Polkadots and Moonbeams; Prince - Delirious (Live in Syracuse, March 30, 1985 - 2022 Remaster); Santana - Rastafario; Coil - All the Pretty Little Horses; Duke Ellington - Lady Mac; Aviators - The Serpent that Swallowed the Moon; Fosforo va in onda ogni giorno alle 01:20 e alle 18:00. Puoi ascoltare le sequenze musicali di Rufus T. Firefly sulla frequenza di Radio Tandem, 98.400FM, o in streaming e anche in podcast.Per info: https://www.radiotandem.it/fosforo

When a strange, unnatural mist rolls in, people and planes don't just disappear — they're swallowed whole, leaving behind nothing but questions and chilling silence.Join the DARKNESS SYNDICATE: https://weirddarkness.com/syndicateABOUT WEIRD DARKNESS: Weird Darkness is a true crime and paranormal podcast narrated by professional award-winning voice actor, Darren Marlar. Seven days per week, Weird Darkness focuses on all thing strange and macabre such as haunted locations, unsolved mysteries, true ghost stories, supernatural manifestations, urban legends, unsolved or cold case murders, conspiracy theories, and more. On Thursdays, this scary stories podcast features horror fiction along with the occasional creepypasta. Weird Darkness has been named one of the “Best 20 Storytellers in Podcasting” by Podcast Business Journal. Listeners have described the show as a cross between “Coast to Coast” with Art Bell, “The Twilight Zone” with Rod Serling, “Unsolved Mysteries” with Robert Stack, and “In Search Of” with Leonard Nimoy.DISCLAIMER: Ads heard during the podcast that are not in my voice are placed by third party agencies outside of my control and should not imply an endorsement by Weird Darkness or myself. *** Stories and content in Weird Darkness can be disturbing for some listeners and intended for mature audiences only. Parental discretion is strongly advised.IN THIS EPISODE: When driving towards the banks of the Chunky River in Mississippi, it's best not to ignore the “Stuckey Bridge Closed” sign.  In fact, you might want to avoid the bridge altogether if you are the least bit squeamish. (The Hanging Man at Stuckey's Bridge) *** Feelings created by your living area.  Can your home truly dictate the way you feel? (Feelings of Pain, Hatred and Anger Caused By My Apartment) *** In the early 1870s the counties of Labette and Montgomery in Kansas were experiencing an alarming number of missing persons. Could a local grocery owner and his family be to blame? (The Bloody Benders) *** The legend of Lavinia Fisher has been told and retold since her execution in Charleston, South Carolina in 1820 and with each telling it has grown more extravagant and further from the truth. (The Legend of Lavinia Fisher) *** Why are so many mysterious vanishings combined with some type of cloud, fog or mist? (Mysterious Mists And Strange Vanishings)CHAPTERS & TIME STAMPS (All Times Approximate)…00:00:00.000 = Lead-In00:01:15.764 = Show Open00:02:31.538 = Swallowed By The Mist00:24:34.605 = The Legend of Lavinia Fisher00:34:18.460 = The Bloody Benders00:44:35.789 = Feelings of Pain, Hatred and Anger Caused By My Apartment00:46:40.977 = The Hanging Man at Stuckey's Bridge00:51:19.318 = Show CloseSOURCES AND RESOURCES FROM THE EPISODE…“The Hanging Man at Stuckey's Bridge” by Jennifer Jacob: http://ow.ly/oYTk30m2RCG“The Legend of Lavinia Fisher” by Robert Wilhelm: http://www.murderbygaslight.com/2010/10/legend-of-lavinia-fisher.html“The Bloody Benders” by Robert Wilhelm: http://www.murderbygaslight.com/2010/11/bloody-benders.html“Feelings of Pain, Hatred and Anger Caused By My Apartment?”: (link no longer available)“Swallowed By The Mist” by Brent Swancer: https://mysteriousuniverse.org/2018/06/mysterious-mists-and-strange-vanishings/=====(Over time links may become invalid, disappear, or have different content. I always make sure to give authors credit for the material I use whenever possible. If I somehow overlooked doing so for a story, or if a credit is incorrect, please let me know and I will rectify it in these show notes immediately. Some links included above may benefit me financially through qualifying purchases.)= = = = ="I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness." — John 12:46= = = = =WeirdDarkness® is a registered trademark. Copyright ©2025, Weird Darkness.=====Originally aired: October 02, 2018NOTE: Some of this content may have been created with assistance from AI tools, but it has been reviewed, edited, narrated, produced, and approved by Darren Marlar, creator and host of Weird Darkness — who, despite popular conspiracy theories, is NOT an AI voice. (AI Policy)EPISODE PAGE at WeirdDarkness.com (includes list of sources): https://weirddarkness.com/SwallowedByTheMist

You're out for a swim in the ocean, minding your own business, when suddenly, bam! You get swallowed whole by a giant whale. Sounds like a nightmare, right? But here's the thing: believe it or not, you might actually stand a chance of surviving inside a whale's belly. I mean, it's not exactly a luxury vacation in there, but hey, you've got air to breathe and maybe some fish to snack on. Plus, whales' stomachs are pretty massive, so you wouldn't get squished right away. Still, it's probably not a situation you'd want to find yourself in anytime soon! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Bernard Parmegiani & Francois Bayle - "Chiffre 7" - Divine Comedie Kamagurka & De Vlaamse Primiti - "Krisislied" - Vakantie in de Beesteen Arturo Ruiz del Pozo - "Clarinete Cajamarquino" - Composiciones Nativas Jon & Vangelis - "The Friends of Mr. Cairo (excerpt)" - The Friends Of Mr. Cairo Raobert Drasnin - "Jardin de la Noche" - Percussion Exotique Butthole Surfers - "P.S.Y. (excerpt)" - Pioughd Daniel Zimbaldo - "Naturaleza Muerta" - Musica Electroacustica Española 3 Gordon Mumma - "Hornpipe (excerpt)" - Sonic Arts Union v/a Imaginary Softwoods - "Bronze Lamp" - So Extra Bronze Lamp Madalyn Merkey - "Clutch" - Puzzle Music Laurie Spiegel - "Crying Tone" - Obsolete Systems Stockhausen - "Abschied" - Oktophonie Luc Marianni - "Synthetic Suite pour Orchestre" - Six Synthetic Suites Merzbow - "Merz Collection III (excerpt)" - Lowest Music & Arts 1980-83 Wolf Eyes - "Burn Your House Down" - Dread ZWEISTEIN - "I'm A Melody Maker" - Trip-Flip Out-Meditation https://www.wfmu.org/playlists/shows/152575

Tap here to listen ad-free (free trial, cancel any time)The Narrator Man will read ANYTHING that's on his script! With the help of some very tricky tricksters, The Big Bad Wolf has changed the words to 'There once was an old lady who swallowed a fly'Fun Fables are a collection of classic children's audio stories, fairy tales, fables and nursery rhymes that are fun and educational. Perfect for bedtime stories and car trips. The episodes have all the key elements of the tradition tales but at the same time are unique and add a bit of humour along the way.Email: hello@funfablespodcast.comWebsite: www.funfablespodcast.com Created and produced by: Horseplay ProductionsNarrated by: The Narrator ManFor Big Bad Wolf T-shirts and FREE colouring in pictures visit www.funfablespodcast.com... And if your looking for something more relaxing at bedtime why not try Fun Fables: Sleepy time Stories Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Pelicans! Giant, big beaked birds of the water. Urban legends surrounded these critters, like the fact that they will sometimes eat dogs. Fact or myth? Who can say for sure? But one thing we can say is that they're fascinating birds, so let's get to know them.To support Bird of the Week and gain access to our second podcast, What's up with that's Bird's Name? click on through to Patreon: www.patreon.com/birdoftheweekWant birds in your inbox? Drop me a line at weekly.bird@outlook.com and I'll hook you up with a free weekly bird.Notes:Pelican eats Pigeon: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=phUs2kIGY9MAustralian Pelican: https://ebird.org/species/auspel1?siteLanguage=en_AUPink-Backed Pelican: https://ebird.org/species/pibpel1Spot-Billed Pelican: https://ebird.org/species/spbpel1Dalmatian Pelican: https://ebird.org/species/dalpel1Peruvian Pelican: https://ebird.org/species/perpel1Brown Pelican: https://ebird.org/species/brnpelPelican finds water: https://www.abc.net.au/news/2017-10-19/curious-central-west-why-pelicans-prefer-some-places/9054518hunting practices: https://asknature.org/strategy/cooperative-herding-catches-more-food/Dalmatian Pelican conservation: https://rewildingeurope.com/blog/turning-the-tide-for-the-dalmatian-pelican/Peruvian Pelican conservation: https://discover.silversea.com/destinations/south-america/how-the-peruvian-pelican-reflects-changes-in-the-environment/

A number of people, both skeptics and even some Christians doubt that the story of Jonah is true. Some doubt that there ever was a prophet named Jonah at all. Getting into this lesson, we read in the Book of Jonah that the prophet was swallowed by a great fish. Yet, skeptics point out that in Matthew's gospel, Jesus says that Jonah was swallowed by a whale. So, let's dive into the podcast as we join Micheal Lane in discussing this supposed contradiction! CREDITS: Developed & Hosted by Michael Lane. Produced & Edited by Isabel Kolste. Graphics & Publication by Isabel Kolste. Additional Art, Film, & Photography Credits: Stock media “Memories” provided by mv_production / Pond5 | Logo Stinger: Unsplash.com: Leinstravelier, Logan Moreno Gutierrez, Meggyn Pomerieau, Jaredd Craig, NASA, NOASS, USGS, Sam Carter, Junior REIS, Luka Vovk, Calvin Craig, Mario La Pergola, Timothy Eberly, Priscilla Du Preez, Ismael Paramo, Tingey Injury Law Firm, Dan Cristian Pădureț, Jakob Owens | Wikimedia: Darmouth University Public Domain, Kelvinsong CC0 | Stock media “A stately Story (Stiner02)” provided by lynnepublishing / Pond5-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------DONATE: https://evidence4faith.org/give/ WEBSITE: https://evidence4faith.org/NEWSLETTER: http://eepurl.com/hpazV5BOOKINGS: https://evidence4faith.org/bookings/CONTACT: Evidence 4 Faith, 349 Knights Ave Kewaskum WI 53040 , info@evidence4faith.orgMy goal is that their hearts, having been knit together in love, may be encouraged, and that they may have all the riches that assurance brings in their understanding of the knowledge of the mystery of God, namely, Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. - Colossians 2:2-3

Hey Selfies,  This one's for the woman who stayed too long.  The woman who confused disappearing with devotion.  The woman who swallowed her truth and called it maturity.  In today's episode, I'm not holding back. I'm calling out the lie we were sold about love, and what it means to reclaim every wild, holy, selfish part of you.  We're talking:  Self-abandonment vs real love  The truth about staying 'loyal' when your soul is dying  Why compassion isn't an excuse for self-betrayal  And the moment everything shifts when you say: 'I am mine.'  This episode might hurt a little. And then it will free you.  Hit play. Then share it.  Because we don't gatekeep liberation around here.  Join The Phoenix  Book a consultation   

Become a CTC Partner: https://crosstocrown.org/partners/Free LXX English translation: http://ccat.sas.upenn.edu/nets/edition/Literal Standard Version: https://www.lsvbible.comKey playlists:The Kingdom and the Last Days: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5Yobt1jZDd-fWWua2bpHUIYaznHgLZ20Zechariah: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5Yobt1jZDd99n2SBXrhdBklo36yRstVtFeatured playlist: The Church (That Meets in My Home) — https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5Yobt1jZDd9Zzn8Ufa-BNciyYv04Cl6mMy books:Exalted: Putting Jesus in His Place — https://www.amazon.com/Exalted-Putting-Jesus-His-Place/dp/0985118709/ref=tmm_pap_title_0God's Design for Marriage (Married Edition) — https://www.amazon.com/Gods-Design-Marriage-Married-Amazing/dp/0998786306/ref=sr_1_4?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1493422125&sr=1-4&keywords=god%27s+design+for+marriageGod's Design for Marriage (Pre-married Edition) — https://www.amazon.com/Gods-Design-Marriage-What-Before/dp/0985118725/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_topcrosstocrown.org@DougGoodin@CrossToCrown

Swallowed by a beach. A really big wedding party. National holidays and celebrity birthdays. Outdoor days. Aggie baseball. Land stops. White wine for the toddler. Plus local news and sports.

Swallowed by a beach. A really big wedding party. Mother's Day recap. Scott's trip to Tulip Land. Things you're doing wrong while mowing your lawn. Critters you need to be aware of. Receipts are dangerous. Home run for mom on Mother's Day. Mom and son graduating together. Impressive, useless skills. Betty White stamps. Lettuce eating competition. Get your veggies. Texas Roadhouse dips. Butterfinger's new product. Winning Kentucky Derby jockey is suspended and fined.

This six-week series looks at Old Testament passages that foreshadowed Jesus. We hope that this ministry has blessed you in some way and that you would consider liking, subscribing, and sharing this channel with your friends, family, or a person God has placed on your heart. As always if you would like prayer please Text “Prayer” to 561.867.3400 and if you've made a decision to follow Christ today  or have more questions would you please consider  texting the word “Decided” to 561.867.3957  so that we can pray with you and provide you with  some resources to begin your journey with the Savior. Have a blessed day your family @ FBC Lantana Connect Card: Text "Connect" to 561.867.3353 Prayer Request: Text “Prayer” to 561.867.3400 I have decided to follow Jesus: Text “Decided” to 561.867.3957

The Circle Back crew of Jacob Gramegna Jeff Nadu, Joey Knish & Chris Dierkes dive deep into the latest and greatest news and drama from Gambling Twitter. From controversial takes to unexpected betting strategies, we're breaking down all the must-know moments from the week. In today's show, we discuss the Boston Celtics and Cleveland Cavaliers choking away their first two second-round playoff games, embracing variance, and much more. Whether you're here for the insights or just the entertainment, don't miss this lively discussion on the hottest topics in the betting community on Circle Back, the latest show on The Hammer Betting Network, part of Circles Off and proudly presented by Underdog.

Send us a textIn this big double bill episode, Tanya, with a lot of help from Batt Lamb (and Pete), tells a story that centres around the Japanese celebration, Setsubun - the Japanese bean throwing festival.  In early February, in anticipation of Spring, people drive out bad luck and the oni (demons) associated with it, to welcome in the new. This version of the story comes from storyteller Cathy Spagnoli, who has now passed, and was told to her by a Japanese friend.Then in a similar vein comes the old story song about an old lady who swallowed a fly.....I don't why she swallowed that fly!You can find our audios and books to purchase at https://imagined-worlds.net/story-shopOr join the live monthly Batt Cave storytelling club at https://ko-fi.com/tanyabatt0027/tiers Or if you are an educator for children 0 - 8 years subscribe to 'Batt on the Mat' - a monthly online, professional development storytelling and arts programme https://imagined-worlds.net/batt-on-the-matAnd finally, if you enjoyed our podcast, please share with friends and write a review. Or make a donation to support what we do here https://ko-fi.com/tanyabatt0027Kia Ora!

Be scared of woodpeckers and receipts. Fyre Festival 4 sale! Telephone memories. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Jordan's nursing a hangover this week, but William's on hand to keep things lively with a hotly requested calendars etiquettemology. The Sexted mums get a shoutout as Jordan gears up for his trip to Casa El Norte, and Sarah's in need of a little clarity when it comes to “Bed Chem”. Plus, the G&Divas bring in some truly grim dilemmas, featuring a smearing of dog poo and a rogue toenail.

A poorly engineered jetty was installed at the mouth of Tillamook Bay that changed the ocean's currents, and over the following three decades the sea relentlessly scoured away the town. Today, no trace remains of once-thriving Bayocean. (Bayocean Spit, Tillamook County; 1910s, 1920s, 1930s) (For text and pictures, see https://offbeatoregon.com/1611b.bayocean-town-swallowed-by-the-sea-417.html)

Roday's Oddcast - Best of the Oddcast - A Tornado Swallowed Daddy (Airdate 4/7/2025)   People experience trauma differently. Some folks carry emotional scars with them the rest of their life; others witness their daddy getting swallowed up by a tornado, never to be seen again, and shrug it off.   The Bob & Sheri Oddcast: Everything We Don’t, Can’t, Won’t, and Definitely Shouldn’t Do on the Show!

Shop Talk looks at a simple word swap to make you sound more confident and assured. We agree. Caught My Eye yearns for the good ole days of the Luxor in Las Vegas. A recent review was not so kind to this once regal property along the Vegas Strip. Also, close to a million dollars' worth of Tiffany diamonds are “retrieved” from a robbery suspect who swallowed them…in Florida. Duncan Hines, namesake of various food-related businesses, is our Business Birthday. We're all business. Except when we're not. Apple Podcasts: apple.co/1WwDBrC Spotify: spoti.fi/2pC19B1 iHeart Radio: bit.ly/4aza5LW YouTube Music: bit.ly/43T8Y81 Pandora: pdora.co/2pEfctj YouTube: bit.ly/1spAF5a Also follow Tim and John on: Facebook: www.facebook.com/focusgroupradio  

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Joe recounts a trip to Sydney and is incredibly intrigued by Rugby. Gaspare has parent teacher conferences and the fellas discuss the recent incident where a man gets swallowed whole by a whale on camera! This episode is sponsored by Liquid IV, Hero Bread, Mint Mobile, and Betterhelp. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hawk Tuah coin scam; flu BJ crypto coins; MTV's TRL window disaster; Sadie Hawkins Dance depression; Titanic museum; whale tummy survival; and a tattoo change of mind.Unlock the BONUS SCENE(S) at improv4humans.com and gain access to every episode of i4h, all ad-free, as well as TONS of exclusive new podcasts delving deeper into improv, the history of comedy, music and sci-fi.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

HAPPY MONDAY! Payton Whitmore is back from her OVERSEAS ADVENTURE! Today we asked YOU to tell us about what your dog ATE but food items are not allowed. Aka, Surgery or poop roulette. Also, Lainey needs to vent, Lewis has a DIRTY LITTLE SECRET, Kathleen called us after 8 years in Portland, and GRANT has ADD TRIVIA! Plus, TV TALK, REN FEST 2025, AND MUCH MUCH MORE!

00:00 Church Announcements 05:27 Pregnant at 4 weeks Postpartum 23:59 The NBA AllStar Weekend 43:22 Drake Dropped 52:00 Man gets Swallowed up by a Whale?!

Support the show: https://www.steveharveyfm.com/See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Dam Internet, You Scary! hosts Patrick Cloud and Tahir Moore break down the disturbing but interesting stories on the internet! Guest: Dia La Ren Nash https://www.instagram.com/dialarennash/ S/O to our Sponsors Mando As a special offer for listeners, new customers get $5 off a Starter Pack with our exclusive code. That equates to over 40% off your Starter Pack Use code DIYS at https://www.ShopMando.com. Factor Eat smart with Factor. Get started at https://www.factormeals.com/diys50off and use code diys50off to get 50% off your first box plus free shipping. 00:00:00 | Intro 00:00:16 | Grill Culture and Shiny Smiles 00:00:52 | Guest Introduction: A Special Return 00:02:11 | Gapped Teeth with Diamonds: A Bold Fashion Statement 00:03:37 | Monopoly vs. Jenga: The Party Games Debate 00:07:06 | Drunken Mishaps and Wild Party Stories 00:09:05 | The Almost-Kidnapping Incident: A Tale of Survival 00:16:12 | Underwater Party Submarine: Would You Risk It? 00:29:07 | The Ethics of Sushi Underwater: Food Karma 00:39:03 | Social Anxiety and Going Out Alone 00:42:15 | Voodoo Dolls, Explosives, and Rat Poison: A Missouri Mystery 00:48:08 | Swallowed by a Whale: A Survivor's Tale In this hilarious and thought-provoking episode of Damn Internet, You Scary!, Tahir Moore and Patrick Cloud are joined by a special guest for a wild conversation. From grill culture and diamond gapped teeth to the bizarre ethics of eating sushi underwater, this episode dives deep into the unexpected. Highlights include a near-kidnapping survival story, an explosive Missouri mystery with voodoo dolls and rat poison, and the ultimate tale of a man swallowed by a whale and living to tell about it. The crew also debates the best party games, explores the anxiety of going out alone, and examines the absurdity of an underwater party submarine. Whether you're here for the laughs or the crazy stories, this episode is packed with entertainment, social commentary, and jaw-dropping moments you won't want to miss. Don't forget to like, subscribe, and share your favorite moments! Join our Patreon now!!  https://www.patreon.com/DamInternetYouScary