dawn

Spiders kill way outside of their weight class.

Set up traps, which is also a house.

Pretty clever,too bad things have to die.

In heaven,even the insects won’t kill each other. They’ll all have plenty of food,so there’s no aggression.

You never saw the bathroom on the Enterprise, all those people floating through space,, no one taking shits.

Which implies a future worth looking forward to.

We can replicate food, and you absorb all of it.

Nothing left over.

We have out-thought human evolution,

That shit was flawed anyway..

Endless universes, endless versions of God,, and we got the high school drop out one.

We got the dunce.

The dickhead nobody wants to be around..

And he’s down here fuckin with us. Fucking with a tender anatomy and an endless mind.

Leaving ingredients around for the chemical soup in your own head.

And whilst you ponder this,, I need you to hold down a job. Pay the state, pay the church, they’re doing my work, and uh…

Don’t put any chemicals in your brain..

You might start to question all this.

Just uh,, just go buy something. It will satiate your desire for purpose.

Our God is a retard.

And he knows it

He’s just laughing at you.

Oracles, prophets, Hunter S Thompson.

The skill is in being able to tell you how you operate.

It does no good to be reflective.

Can’t trust yourself to tell you about yourself, so you need someone else to do it.

A God, A shaman, a Witch doctor, a psychic.

NO,,, can’t trust yourself.

You have no awareness.

Curiosity, but no awareness.

(And what magic lies between this world and the next?)

What magic lies in LSD, or MDMA, or the Pineal Gland itself?

I think the rest are synthetic, the real trip lies in a gland right between your eyes.

ANd when you die, if you’re lucky, you’ll get a dream unlike any dream you’ve had before.

It’s impossible.

It’s impossible that this dream could affect genetic memory, because,, because you’re dead.

SO the answer…

The way to progress this joke of a species…

You have to kill someone.

But right before they die, you gotta jack em off, then you have to take the semen and impregnate an appropriate host .

That way, the dream took place, the blood remembers.

Those last moments when you finally figured everything out,, they get passed on.

SO the next child would be born with that experience.

And they’ll be leaps and bounds beyond what you are, because they’ll know.

The blood will know.

So there it is, I figured everything out.

Cue the death dream, extract the semen, impregnate an egg..

(Or??)

Or synthesize the chemical compound.

Introduce it to a test tube baby during fertilization.

Maybe each of your little sperm should have their third eye blasted wide, before they uh,,,eject.

Let’s say “eject”.

Why do you think choking is so popular?

I’ve dabbled, both giving and receiving, pretty fun I guess, dead brain cells are always fun, but see,,the popularity of choking during sex is actually Jesus telling us,, telling us what we need to do.

(Introduce psychedelics into the act of reproduction?)

Sounds stupid when you say it…

Probably not..

I’m probably wrong…

I should probably just go to work for another week…

I’ll figure it out eventually.

(Enjoyed the diatribe)

Wouldn’t have it any other way..

Choke someone you love this week.

Thumbs up emoji.

—-

Alcohol is a stupid drug, it’s just available.

Mel Gibson’s recorded drunk phone calls.

Uhhhhh..

Pretty funny.

I mean, it’s “ugly”.

Our ugly underneath, and I think all people have insanity in them, somewhere deep down.

Booze just brings it out.

Aggression, emotion, fear..

Nasty shit.

Personally..

(Personally?)

I prefer a stimulant,, when I feel like being up.

Caffeine, nicotine,,, good enough for me.

Give me an Adderal and I’m a gremlin, after being awake for a few days.

Give me a gram of coke and I’ll beg for another.

So,, basically Mel Gibson cussing out some lady on the phone.

Weez all monsta’s.

Some level or another.

You just don’t let it out, because there’s nowhere to let it out.

You stay buttoned up.

Keep this facade vertical.

Until you yell.

Yell Gibson.

I don’t know, I like it.

God probably isn’t a retard.

If there’s anything at all, we would be incapable of understanding what it is or what it means to be alive.

No more than the ants can understand me.

They don’t spend time thinking about why I come around, they just know I come around.

Because I like ’em.

So you get your own little “god” feeling.

Makes me want to get a really nice ant farm.

Just so I can look at em.

—-

And bullies are pretty funny.

Funny when they get their mother fuckin throats cut..

Do love that 🤣🤣