Politicians aren’t what we think they are. Parties aren’t what we think they are. Viruses aren’t what we think they are. Vaccines aren’t what we think they are. Countries aren’t what we think they are. Schools aren’t what we think they are. Birth certificates aren’t what we think they are.
Government is not what you think it is.
The earth has given us her spellcraft in the meme. People are learning to communicate with each other underneath a facade that technology can’t see. Humanity is a form of encryption and psychopaths will never break our code. This won’t be as simple as when we spell our phone numbers out in a craigslist ad. I’m talking about finding the deepest flavors of what makes you human and smuggling them through a hole in the fence. This is the magic of memes. Machines are blind to their meaning. They can only factor them by virility and tone. They can never see what specifically about it was so appealing. Even if they track your eyeballs stroking the screen, there’s still something deeper they’ll never fathom. This technology will become more important as we proceed. There is an underground railroad forming. We see each other inside it. It’s like we climbed into the big tire buried in the schoolyard to pass a secret.
None of us are alone. It just feels that way because we live in houses.
The towers are going up whether you want them to or not. The economy is crashing whether you want it to or not. The border wall is coming. The vaccines are coming. The armored trucks from Tesla are coming. Celebrities are watching our hunger game. This is what Q meant by “Enjoy the Show.” They’re taking all that hope and sacrificing it inside a virgin lamb on the Temple Mount. This is a holocaust in 5G.
This just in from black magick central: this truck is what Musk thinks the future looks like. This is why he took a hit to his ego on stage for the ritual. You know how a bully gets revved up by telling you something is about to hit you? And Tesla is gonna sell the rich folks his truck to see who can survive. They ran the toilet paper story so they could joke how we shit our pants.
Ladies and gentlemen who will listen, I show you the panther we can’t admit:
What you are seeing above is a black magick ritual. Now you know why I keep asking you for a war chest. We need a campground right now to get to work. This campground will be a contagious model that can spread as quickly as it can. There is much to unlearn and I can’t make this happen fast enough by selling books. Hurry up, rebels. The Wookies and the Ewoks need you in the trees.
There’s no such thing as Carolina. I am the man from Katuah. Our future is prana and crystals. Bullets and seeds. Feelings and poetry. Here’s some free investment advice that’s coming at you way too late.
Women: seeds, potions, books
Men: bullets, gold, books
You will find me in the jungle hunting metallic panthers. Remember. Your spine is taller than you think. Your mark is truer than you think. Your potential is greater than you think. You are amperage throttled by shame. You are electricity insulated by propaganda. You are plasma shorted by doubt.
This may be a heavy read for some of you. Deep breath. All of this gets better. We will find each other out there under the moon.