It's been a minute. It is what it is.
When I was twenty, I never suspected that at forty eight I'd be an old, grey-haired, cigar-chomping, miserable fuck. Yeah. But here I be. ...in the blogosphere, as it were. Yeah.
So, what are they doing down in the tunnels? I don't mean subway tunnels under any given city, either, and I don't mean highway tunnels either. And when I say they, I mean they, them, the hidden ones, etc. You know to whom I refer. Mount Shasta, CA and Dulce, NM... Area 51... Yeah.
The network of tunnels is vast, if what I have been able to investigate is any indication of surface-scratching. In fact, it's possible that our Mother is not what she appears to be, she may not be a naturally occurring planet at all, but a manufactured one, in essence, a spaceship. Like the Death Star. And our Moon as well. So what I ask is, who resides inside? What are those little grey anthropomorphic things with the big wraparound eyes? People use the word "alien" to describe them, but I don't think that is entirely accurate, is it? The word alien means not from here, from elsewhere, so it could be correct if they are from another planet, or another dimension, or another time. But what if they are from here? What if they live underground, like mole men? It could explain the pasty complexion and the large eyes. What if they were here before we were? Maybe the gods created them first, to live in tunnels underground, and mine minerals.... Then they created us to live on the surface and, I don't know, herd aminals maybe, or something else. Maybe to be the guardians or caretakers of the surface, or to be visible for other races to observe, as opposed to the hidden. Maybe they created man with the intent of creating a being which is capable of transporting their essence, an avatar thru which they could interface with this world. But something went awry... Something... A fault in the system, a ghost in the machine, a glitch in the program... Somehow we became sentient on our own, capable of reason, capable of our own volition, our own freewill.
I don't know, man. There are so many unanswered questions, so many variables, so many unknowns.
Find x. For 1 to 1gulptillion, x=ae/y ~ EADGBE ;; DADGAD ;; EIEIO (and sometimes w) so find the motherfucker, I triple dog dare you! And.... yeah. There it isn't. Good cigar, though.
Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, meaning it doesn't have any weed in it. Maybe tomorrow they'll legalize recreational marijuana consumption nationwide, in which case, a whole nother variable is introduced, and whence hereupon my cigars may contain more than just tobacco, but for this moment, yeah.
Here's a little random video clip:
Irregardless of what a cartoon character may or may not like, It's gotten into the American vulgate and it's a whole nother thing to think you can just make it go away all of the sudden like. Actually, in all actuality, I could care less about it. I could also care more, however, I don't. Webspeak, lolspeak, txtese, and ebonics have all worked their way into the everyday vulgate, which means the language of the people, regular folks, as opposed to suit-wearing yuppy fucks, or English teachers, or other hoity-toity types who walk around with their noses in the air, acting as though their shit doesn't stink. Some of it is just silly, and some of it sounds retarded, such as 'axe' for ask, or the improper usage of there, their, and they're, or your and you're, where, were, and we're, etc. But it's just a reflection of the substandard "education" rampant among products of the regimented, institutional brainwashing and conditioning machine (AKA public school system) in this country. {And presumably in others as well.}
I dropped out of high school in 1982 because I was sick of the rules and the regimented nature of the system. (The scene from Pink Floyd's The Wall with the kids marching into the grinder and coming out as worms comes immediately to mind.) And I had my GED in my hand before my class graduated. I aced a college English class afterward, so I obviously know the proper English, though I choose to use regular construction-site vernacular in my everyday speech, peppered with fuck, motherfuck, shit, goddamn, sumbitch, and other colorful words and phrases, because I feel comfortable speaking that way, and because I can. [Sticks out tongue and thumbs nose at society]
Television is mind-numbing drivel, designed to distract the sheeple from observing the world around them. I suggest reading books. Aldous Huxley's Brave New World is a good place to start.
Peace, y'all.
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