Sunday, June 21, 2020

The corona virus saga - chapter 44

Back to Nature, the 'get back to nature while paying us for the privilege of doing so' cult, was doing a booming business ever since the troubles began.

Everyone wanted to get back to where they once belonged. In nature. With their bare asses in the air. Feeling the breeze.

Back to Nature was convinced that the current troubles were caused by 5G technology. Like their leader Big Jim said, "5 G’s is too many man. It disrupts the fabric of time and space. Allows portals of entry to our space-time continuum by all sorts of nefarious folks. With dubious intentions."


As any good 5G salesman will tell you,

"When have we left anything like the collapse of the fabric of time and space prevent us from pushing forwards the boundaries of knowledge, to reap the hardware benefits of greater communication technology, why with 5G direct to brain interconnect you’ll never be out of the picture. You’ll be in the direct feed. All of the time. Getting the really good stuff. Oh so sweet. Oh so fine.

Quality imagery in the feed. An 'all the news you’ll ever want to read' kind of event.
Even more. So much more. So much you’ll be needing some filtering ad ons.

And the firewall for downloads from the future. You definitely want that add on. It will cost you extra. But in the end it will cost you so much less. Trust me on this one."


To get rid of 5G technology, Back to Nature wanted to destroy civilization. As their Big Jim said, "once you sit and think about it, things just all begin to make sense." 

"We need a clean beginning. Force everyone to get back to nature whether they want to or not. Especially those 'or not' people. They are like flies in the ointment. Got to clean them out. Convert em or kill em, don’t make much difference in the end. Everybody's doing their part. Helping things along. We all have a place in this. Rest assured. No one was forgotten."


No one was forgotten, but no one really paid any attention to the 2 fine fellows leaving the Back to Nature meeting out the side entrance right before the meeting was over.  Both fine fellows wearing Hawaiian shirts with patches sewed onto them. No kool-aid and cookies for these 2, they had to get back to work.

So into the Ford Taurus they put themselves, and then down the road they headed. Got to stay inconspicuous, got to not draw attention. Blasting Peabo Bryson on the crappy car stereo (a cassette player no less), not to be confused with Peabo Johnson, the employee at the McDonalds where the incident happened, while he was working the grill station on the night shift.

Let's use our fly eye spy camera from the future to join in on their conversation as they hurtled down the highway, headed for the state line.

"I tell you, Jon Frum is a Boogaloo.

I heard it myself from the self appointed leader of our Boogaloo movement, Roy G Biv.

He said we heard Jon Frum say he had 'become unreasonable'. That’s when we knew.

Why he was here. To help us. And our movement.  It just made sense."


"Wow." Holds out meat stick. "Slim Jim?"

"No thanks. Got to watch my weight.

So Roy G Biv, he laid it all out at the last meeting. Before the acid kicked in and he started speaking in tongues. Do you realize there's a whole language hidden in there, in the speaking of tongues.  All kinds of messages just waiting for you to figure them out. 

Anyway, Roy said how important it was that we all get to the center. The entity was very specific about that. We have to gather all of the clan, all of the Boogs, and head towards the center. And bring lots of guns too. That was very important."

"No worries there, Padre. We got enough firepower to take out anything in our way. And then some."

Chews on the Slim Jim.  Boy they're good.

After all, what could be more ‘being unreasonable’ then burning that whole StarGate fucker up in flames. Burn it up, turn it into smoke and cinder, cinders floating up into the air, headed into space, headed towards the stars. That's where we're going. To turn everything into cinders. Motherfucker.  Damn these Slim Jims are tasty."

His fine friend continued.

"And not only that, we’re teaming up with Back to Nature.  That's why we snuck into their meeting. Because we have the same ultimate goal. Total Destruction. By any and all means possible. By any means necessary"

Bill chews and chews on that Slim Jim. Which was starting to look like one of those leather dog chew sticks that had been chewed on a little bit too much.  All white and pulpy.

"But aren’t they all almond milk latte sippers, freshly scrubbed white folk from the suburbs, or that Williamsburg place in Brooklyn..."   I mean they all looked the same to the Boogaloos. "Why would we want to hang with them? Break bread? Share a joint?"

"Because they’re paying us Bill, because they’re paying us."

"Well why the fuck didn’t you say so in the first place. Cash on the barrel. Now we’re talking business."

More Slim Jims he thought to himself. More Slim Jims. They were so good.

They ejected that sweet Peabo tape, and turned on the radio.  PBS was devoting a whole hour episode to the crisis. Along with little musical interludes that were usually the intro to some rocking song they cut off before things got happening.  The anchors and guests were weighing in on the recent troubling events.

"And we need to get business going again. Get on the ‘gangplank to great stuff’." 

That was the new government slogan. We’re all walking together, walking together on the ‘gangplank to great stuff’. Why just reach out and grab some. Be careful there, you don’t want to slip. It’s a long, long way down. All the way down to punch cards and paper tape. Giant metal teletype terminals banging out whatever at a quarter page a minute.  Top speed, that metal was getting hot from all that metal clanging together. And boy were they loud. I mean, we’re talking RTL logic people.  Maybe even vacuum tubes. You do not want to go back there, trust me.

So we need to hang together as we gingerly make our way across the 'gangplank to great stuff'.

We all need to get to the other side.
To get to the big luau.



Members of Boogaloo groups typically believe in accelerationism, and support any action that will speed impending civil war and eventually the collapse of society

They also loved the works of R. Zurkweil, because this singularity he was describing sure sounded like the big igloo, or so the Boojahideen would have you believe. It was the camp bible to the accelerarionism movement. The intellectual fuel for their fire.

This half of our ongoing documentary, 'The Boogaloo Movement, Accelerationism in Action', is brought to you by FutureBook. Fueled by humble conspiracies, by your most awesome conspiracy facts i meant to say, you’ve been paying us ad dollars since the very beginning, before we disrupted time.

Now let us continue with our program.


As the NCRI itself put forth,

"This ambiguity is a key feature of the problem: Like a virus hiding from the immune system, the use of comical-meme language permits the network to organize violence secretly behind a mirage of inside jokes and plausible deniability."

The same strategy as the executive branch, the exact same strategy. Makes you wonder, makes you wonder.

But then both organizations desire chaos, craved it as the rocket fuel that would fly them to the stars. To the moon and beyond.

Both organizations had a uniform. One was crappy stuffy suits and ties, or blond hair and fake tits if you were a woman.

The other favored Hawaiian shirts and fruity exotic tropical drinks. As old Roy G Biv himself explained in his most recent interview in Conspiracies Weekly,
"The kind with dry ice in them and 40 different kinds of rum, served in an old pirate scull, or if that was not available maybe one from an immigrant or a black fellow, just kidding, just kidding, you should see the look on your face, no worries, we buy them from Walmart, the skulls we drink grog out of. We buy them from Walmart.

We also have special embroidered patches we wear on our shirts. Here, look at mine. See, that’s an igloo, and this repetitive pattern is Samoan. That part, oh that’s an inside joke from Breakin 2 Electric Boogaloo. You know, directed by Sam Fistenberg. Released on TriStar Pictures. Anyway, Orlando and Kelly, they did that thing in the second part under the bleachers of the community recreation center. And don’t forget Ice-T, his performance was magnificent, just wonderful. So that’s where the inspiration for that part of the shirt patch comes from.

Me and the boys, the Boog, we stay up late for many a night hand sewing these here shirt patches. Takes a lot of intricate hand stitching to make one of these babies, that’s for sure. So you can look, but do not touch. This is my baby. My pride and joy. See my initials there at the bottom, drawn with a flourish.  That is real blood. I signed my patch with the blood of a sinner. Ha, ha, ha. Got you."

Everyone knew that famous guy was a Boog.  You know, the one with the haircut.  And the mental issues.  The 2 prostiture girlfriends.  The tv show.  He had become 'unreasonable' during his crazy period.  So we all knew he was a secret closet Boog.  Just waiting to join up when the time was right. And that time was surely coming, coming soon. The clan waited to embrace him into their business. Their business of making trouble.

And of course everyone loved Peabo. They had all his albums. Which proved the whole racist rap was bullshit.

The Booganista loved the brothers. At least that was what the handbook told us to say to reporters. So sure, why not. The Boog were all inclusive. We will assimilate you into the Boog, into the collective of anarchy and chaos, all of you who would help us to accelerate, just like our savior R Zurkweil said in the bible, in 'Singularity, the Coming Tomorrow, What's in it for You Buddy'. It’s all about exponential growth baby.

And the thing about exponential growth, was that one minute you were no where, and then a year later, you were still essentially no where, and then 10 years later you sure as fuck hadn’t really gotten anywhere, and then the next thing you knew it was already over.

In the blink of an eye, it was over. The singularity happened, and you didn’t even notice. Because you were too busy watching old Gabby Cat re-runs, you just had to watch all of those adorable episodes on Netflix over and over again until they started to tell you things.  Common sense things. Things that just made sense.  And then you had to act on them.

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