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More questions from the audience - Your Questions Answered

Q: You reference the Titanic quite often in your writing, have you seen the movie?

A: Well it all depends. There have been like 12 Titanic movies released.

If you mean the infuriatingly long, gay-ass piece of shit released in 1997…. yeah I saw that. What a gigantic waste of time that fucking thing was. Total hunk of overly dramatic, non-realistic, virtue-signalling horseshit. And BTW, I want my fucking money back. I think even back then, a regular ticket cost $8.50, so that’s $17. Cause I ain’t sitting in the movie theater by myself, like some weirdo whack job.

And despite my swagger, I’m a full fledged gentleman, and always treat my ladies right. I take what I desire from them later (of course), but I was raised right by my adopted father - Big Dick Johnson, and never let a woman pay, open their car door, or walk alone to their front door. Respect bro! Gets you much further in life. Spoon full of honey, and all that.

Now - the movie to which your question alludes is very confusing to me.

It stars a retarded actor from Whats Eating Gilbert Grape, and an old lady who looks to be about 45, who everyone pretends is 21.

I don’t have a problem with retards in cinema, just to let you know. Robert DeNiro and Jake Gyllenhaal (not a real last name, nor a correct spelling, even if you assume it is somehow a last name), have been making movies for decades. Despite both being clearly fully retarded. Or, in our PC society, dealing with substantial head injuries or other form of debilitating cognitive impairment. Both have the emotional range of a great white shark - dead eyes, dead face, no soul, no emotion, no range, no feeling, just lifeless bags of meat floating through life. Both have the vocabulary development of vaccine injured toddlers. And both, seem to be some form of humanoid automatons, programmed to simulate real people, but not possessing the intellectual capabilities to interact with them. I think they were put into cinema to condition people to seeing the soulless, but still lifelike, facsimiles of the humans, trying to mingle amongst our race of actual people. Either way, whether actually human (doubtful), or just completely-defective junk DNA, masquerading as high functioning imbeciles, actual retards have been in mainstream cinema for quite awhile. So, I’m used to it.

I don’t understand this version of Titanic however:

• First off, the bitch starts off all old, then gets young, then old again, then young, back and forth, etc. Pick fucking one here.

• Second, is the movie a story, a documentary, an autobiography, a period-piece, come on now - what the fuck? Again, pick one.

• Third, everyone in the movie is fucking ugly, and absolutely hideous to look at. If I wanted to look at stupid ugly people for 3 hours straight, I would go to the DMV and take a number

• Fourth, how careless is everyone in that movie with the worlds largest, and most expensive diamond? Yeah - that’s very plausible.

• Fifth, I’m not fully convinced “Rose” is actually a woman. I’ve seen the movie on TV as well, and that could very well be a post-op Dude/Tranny/Amalgamation type deal.

• Sixth, I know the boat fucking sinks. Get that lunatic asylum escapee Michael Bay up in that bitch. Blow up some meteors, bring in some dinosaurs, some big ass space lasers, fucking explosions wrapped in other absurd explosions. The Titanic sinks, hits that shit from The Abyss, those little fairy alien jellyfish thingys bring the boat back up, and then set the whole bitch on fire. Make that shit interesting. Give me some action and reason to stay awake. Not some ugly old lady who doesn’t want to have sex with her husband. Motherfucker - that is every old lady.

So let me get this straight here - for over 3 hours we’re bombarded by the old archaic class warfare dynamic. But now inverted. Poor being morally superior to the rich. The whole revisionist history they turn on everything now. Cowboys were bad, Indians were good. Discovery and Exploration is really just subjugation and exploitation. Development is really just disenfranchisement. The victims were always right, and the oppressors were always wrong. They do this to everything now.

Here - 1st class people, 3rd class, the steerage, the extremely poor, etc. That this form of societal stratification is so outdated and barbaric. Can you believe people thought there were ‘classes’ of people? Like - oh, those rich people are so arrogant, so pretentious, so entitled, so deluded in their ‘superiority.’ Can you believe everyone thought that just because they had money, they were better, and entitled to better treatment? And viewed as a more valuable human. All because of inherited forms of wealth? Can you believe that absurd viewpoint, people used to believe in?

Ummm hello - look the fuck around people!

Seen anything along those lines recently? Rich getting treatment the rest of us could never dream of. The Epstein Files perhaps? Yeah - how about that one, for a quick example.

But back to travel and ‘classes’ of people - hey fucksticks, been to an airport lately? It is literally the exact same thing. Only now - even worse. Much, much worse. And we think we’re so evolved culturally now? Fuck out of here. That’s how I know this version of society will implode. We can’t see our hand in front of our face.

• Seating in airplanes is literally the exact same thing now. First class - with all the amenities, special treatment, special privileges, extra this, and extra that. Time saving, huge seats, better food & drinks, complimentary features, better service, personal attendants, privacy, media, served first - before everyone else, etc, etc.

• The seating on airplanes is actually divided into classes in their official industry vernacular (lol). They fucking call it: 1st class, Business class, 2nd class, 3rd class, Regular class, or just fucking cattle - which is how most of us fly. Next time you book a ticket online, look at it when you select your fucking seat. Yeah!

• Think it’s just the plane? Fuck out of here. It’s the entire airport. From special shuttles for these ‘important’ card holders and premium subscriptions payers, to ‘no wait’ check-in and baggage check. To special gate access at “security.” To their special waiting areas, and lounges. To food and drinks served to them while they wait in these asshole filled handjob lounges. To boarding before all us ‘animals.’ It’s the exact same fucking thing as this stupid movie.

• And that’s just at regular public airports. These rich mother fuckers all have their own or ‘company’ owned planes. All stored at small private exclusive airports. With private chauffeurs and drivers shuttling them from their door - right to the airplanes stairs - right on the fucking tarmac.

• Think these elite are getting finger blasted trying to go through “security?” - nah man, these rich assholes voluntarily declare if they’re good, or bringing in anything, and text over those fake ass bullshit declarations to glad-handing paid for and owned “airport security.”

• So understand this - we have not improved in the class warfare struggle narrative talking point one bit. “Classism” per se, has not gone anywhere. It has only gotten worse. You need to be able to see this for yourself.

So - fuck that movie. Fuck that skinny retarded kid. And fuck that old tranny redhead.

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Q: You seem like you have been in a lot of combat: battles, conflicts, fights, skirmishes, physical encounters, etc. What is the hardest you have ever been hit?

A: Great question. And yes I have.

I’ll tell you about the exact time, because I remember it well.

I was about 10 years old at the time. And about 100 lbs, give or take. I was upstairs sleeping in our shared bedroom, where I slept with my adopted brothers and sisters. I was fast asleep. Truly - deep off in dream world. Probably dreaming about my days of camping, or fishing, or playing baseball, or some other hobby I had when I was that age.

So I’m happily asleep in my sleeping bag inside of my tent. I had set up a canvas tent in the room, and was camping out on the floor, rather than sleeping in the row of bunks. I liked that tent. It was an old army surplus tent from the First World War, and was quite thick and well made. Strong, heavy-gauge dark green cloth, with the old army unit insignia still visible on it. Once you fell asleep in there - you could sleep for days, no light was getting in at all.

When all of a sudden, I hear this absolute train wreck of a ruckus going on in the kitchen downstairs. What the fuck is going on here? I come out of my tent, and start walking cautiously out of the room.

Downstairs - this monster of a man, easily 6’7 and every pound of 325, is absolutely destroying our house. Just trashing the entire place. Everything is tossed over. Thrown against the walls. Kicked from one side to another. Furniture broken and busted. Windows blasted out and our ceiling fan torn down and laying on the living room floor.

Unbeknownst to me, a manic maniac lumberjack of a destroyer is just wrecking our entire house. But why? I don’t know.

I creep down the stairs, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. And then I see my pet goldfish - on the kitchen floor, in a pool of water, flapping away his last breaths. His goldfish bowl is shattered, now just shards of glass on the wall and counter.

“Bartleby !!!,” I yell, as I now fly down the stairs, towards this deranged overgrown whackjob the size of Colossus.

You can do a lot of things in this world. But kill a boys pet goldfish, is not one of them.

With pure blind fury, I attack this gargantuan home invader. Punches, kicks, elbows, knees, forearm strikes - everything I can try. Nothing makes any dent in this Jurassic sized strongman intruder.

He swats me away with a giant backhanded forearm shiver.

I go flying across the wet kitchen linoleum floor.

Crash into the cabinets.

I pop right back up. Back to my feet in no time. And go right back after this monstrous Paul Bunyan. I take the fight to my viciously enraged assailant. I try a trip. A sweep. A throw. Nothing works. I can’t budge this bastard off his feet (of course). He grabs me with both arms and tosses me like a toy off his hip. I again go sailing across the kitchen.

I’m dazed. And phased. But not out.

Not by a long shot.

I spring up once more. Jump on top of the kitchen counter, run and leap off the kitchen marble-top island with a double axe handle to this giant titan of a marauder. I connect squarely on top of his dome.

He barely blinks.

No effect on him whatsoever.

But now he’s even more enraged. Completely infuriated. Totally livid. And foaming at the mouth with rabid out of control methamphetamine style rage. Furious is not the word, that is not a strong enough descriptor. I would say - seething with frenzied blaze filled fury. The likes of which, my young mind had never seen.

As I’m recovering myself from the leap up at least 7 feet in the air to connect with this mountainous nutcases noggin, he spins to the wall, grabs our dryer (as in, washer and dryer), and in one lighting fast pull, detaches it from the wall and swings that giant home appliance at me with full force.

It connects squarely!

I can now say honestly - I am one of the few people on this earth - who has flown without wings.

I sailed across the entire length of our kitchen. This time however - not even touching the floor. And crashed head first into our dishwasher. Shattering the hard plastic door, with my head, neck, and shoulders. My body penetrating through to the inner workings.

I awoke to find myself halfway inside the dishwasher. Covered in pots, pan, dishes, tupperware, knives and forks. I don’t know how long I was unconscious. Few minutes I suppose. Perhaps longer.

The dishwasher is completely destroyed. The door imploded through it’s hinges. The levers, knobs, and latches, all completely detached and caved in. The dish racking, laying on top of my head. The jets and spinners crushed to pieces, and inner components and mechanisms all plainly visible. Hard plastic shards cutting into my torso and stomach.

That was quite a fucking shot indeed. By the way - a standard laundry dryer weighs between 100 and 150 lbs, both more than me (mind you). And with the force that madman generated, I can’t even fathom the actual calculable impact my little body adsorbed.

As I came to, I had laying on my chest, one of those Ginsu knives, that The Home Shopping Club or QVC used to love to sell on TV, back in the day. Mother Debbie loved TV infomercials, and all the shopping channels for that matter, and was always buying stupid bullshit products, that would drive Father Dick up the wall.

As I started extracting myself from the dishwasher, trying to unwrap my small body from the destroyed plastic, the paneling, and exposed mechanical components, I heard this great beast of a destroyer near our front porch door. Perhaps finally leaving, I don’t know.

Finally, after great effort, I cleared the last remaining dishes, pots & pans and associated whatnot off myself. I grabbed hold of the Christmas Feast Ginsu carving knife and charged with one last and desperate gasp at this mammoth psychopath who had completely decimated our humble family home.

Whatever was to happen from here on out - at least I will go out fighting.

I muster up my remaining strength, try to clear the cobwebs from my head, resteady my feet and legs, getting them reaccustomed to working properly - and charge with everything I got left after this bastard. It’s the charge of light brigade for me here.

I’m done thinking I can win, I’m done caring if I’ll die, I’m done playing by the rules of honorable hand to hand combat. This is just unbridled revenge filled fucking rage now. I got blasted through a fucking dishwasher while wearing my fucking pajamas. He killed my goldfish, destroyed my adopted parents house, and ate all the meat out of our family’s refrigerator. He has crossed every line there is.

I run at him again, as his back is to me. I lunge headfirst now. My arms out in front of me, and swipe at the back of his knee with the Christmas Feast Ginsu knife. It’s a desperate move. It’s going to the casino, putting all your fucking money on red at the roulette wheel, closing your eyes, and just fucking hoping it works out. This is my last shot here. Whatever little luck I might have in this body, I need it now. Creator Spirit, great power of the mountains in Mongolia, look down on your humble servant and guide my blade.

I connect!

And cut fully into the back tendon protruding off his right knee.

The great leviathan is now down. Down on one knee.

He screams in pain, as I seem to have severed the tendon completely. The blood spills out profusely. He is kneeling now. Down on a knee, arms down, not defending himself any longer.

I stop and look at the great man beast now humbled before me. I just look at him for a few moments.

Like when your opponent makes a poor move in the mid-game of chess. You look at him and stare, almost in disbelief, and realize he has lost. He doesn’t know it. But you do. You can see every move about to unfolded and realize he is completely powerless to stop what is to come. It is the same thing here.

I stand there just looking at this hulking brute, a stupid savage animal, now gushing blood non-stop. Frantic with both of his gigantic hands gripping his knee trying in vain to stop the out pour.

He cannot stop what is about to come.

I approach him with only disdain. No pity. No emotion. No nothing. Just cold indifference. This is to be a butchering. He cannot stop what I am about to inflict upon him.

I slash with all my might onto his right Achilles Heel. Cutting cleanly through it without resistance.

He is now completely powerless before me. Despite all his massive strength. His Herculean raw power is meaningless. He is now powerless before a small boy in bedtime star-themed pajamas. He tries to hold his knee, and his heel, switching back and forth violently. He will not bleed out from these wounds though. That was not the goal. The goal was to bring him down to my level. To take away his movement. Take away his height. And take away the advantage he held over me.

I slash at his left Achilles tendon now.

Thank you mother Debbie, for always keeping our knives razor sharp. She bought the combo knife sharpener and matching honing stones off the TV infomercial. Well hey - they worked fucking great.

The massive beast can no longer stand. He rolls to his side, curled up on the floor. He has exposed another weakness. A crucial genetic weakness.

I take a few steps back, get more room between us, and run with all I got and soccer penalty kick this Atlas sized asshole square in his eggs.

I feel my small toes explode what made him a man.

He came in with hard boiled eggs, he left with scrambled.

The pain this beast like primate feels probably cannot be articulated. He is beyond pain now. Slowly fading away now. His great muscled body now becoming numb and senseless. He is probably in shock now. With his nervous system preparing to shut down.

I now approach this bruising bastard of a bull for the final time. I walk slowly. I take my time. I do not rush. I want him to know what is about to happen.

I roll him over with my foot. My small toes pressing into his chest. He is flat on his back now. Looking up at me. Giant stupid eyes staring blankly at me.

I am emotionless. I say nothing.

I adjust the knife in my right hand, from a slashing grip, to a stabbing.

I put the knife over his face.

“You look to be the size of Cyclops. Let me complete the look for you.”

And with the full force of my entire body now - I bring the knife up well above my head and hold it there for him to see. I pause, so he knows whats about to happen and bring it down with every bit of power I can summon. Stabbing him directly in his right eye.

I remove the knife and look at it. Huh - made in China. That’s odd, but whatever. The blood is dripping out in great black and red gelatinous globs. I stick 2 fingers along with my thumb into the destroyed socket - and rip out the remnants of this ogres eyeball.

It feels much like my child’s play-doh.

I walk over to our family aquarium (which surprisingly wasn’t destroyed), and toss in whats left of his eye, for our school of Japanese-Fighting-Fish to devour. Eat up boys.

I walk back upstairs, get into my tent, zip myself back into my sleeping bag, and fall back fast asleep.

I never saw that Cyclops again.

That was the hardest I ever got hit. Thanks for the question.

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Q: What is your favorite type of Ice Cream?

A: Vanilla.

Nothing fancy. Never changed. Just plain ole vanilla.

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Q: What is the most number of beers you’ve ever drank in a night?

A: Six, but I don’t really drink. And economically speaking - it’s better to get drunk quickly.

Last year - I think I had 3 beers in total.

Exactly what benefit is there from drinking? It’s an escape mechanism for people unhappy about something. If I had something bugging me, I would fix it. Not hide my pain in a bottle. Plus - I love my fucking life. What the fuck would I want to hide from?

Q: Do you play video games, if so, which ones?

A: No.

I ain’t fucking 10 years old anymore. Actually, I didn’t even have any when I was that age. When I was slightly older, I had a handful or so. But at the end of the day - you’re just sitting there playing with yourself. Grown-ass adults playing with avatars somehow pretending it’s “real.” That’s some seriously demented shit right there.

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Q: Who is your favorite bodybuilder of all time?

A: Steve Reeves!

Hands down. No question about it.

I like all the old time bodybuilders. What is known as the silver era of bodybuilding. That was a fantastic era for building an actual quality Greek Statue type of physique. I thought is was great all the way up to when Larry Scott retired.

After Scott, it went to Sergio Oliva, Arnold, Franco, Zane, Serge Nubert, and they started ruining it with “the juice.” After them, who at least still tried to build a balanced physique, the entire thing just completely lost it’s fucking mind.

So really, everyone after Scott - the steroids came in and just destroyed everything good about it’s original ideals. It started as a way to build a healthy, pleasing, balanced and classically styled aesthetically athletic developed physique. But it devolved into a freakshow of overblown juice heads who built massive nonsensical muscles, who shrunk their cocks and balls to comically pathetic levels.

So the 1950’s bodybuilding scene was exactly where it should have always stayed. And Steve Reeves was the absolute epitome of that era. Chicks loved him, dudes respected him. He looked good in clothes or posing on the beach. That’s where it’s at.

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Q: Do you have a dream girl or a girl you always wanted to meet?

A: No not really. But reporter Savannah Hernandez formerly of InfoWars has everything anyone could ever want.

Beauty, bravery, courage, tenacity, honor, principals, and the looks to make any guy drop his jaw in awe. I have been with many many many women, but would gladly forget them all to walk with her on the beach under the star light.

Keep fighting the good fight baby - you inspire so many! I am proud to simply watch you work!

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Q: Who do you think will win this USA/Israel vs Iran War?

A: There is no winning in this bullshit.

No matter what happens - we lose.

This ain’t even David vs Goliath. It’s Goliath hopped on crack cocaine, methamphetamines, smack, coco-krispies, and enough steroids to kill a racehorse vs Iran.

And by way - Iran (David) in this case, didn’t go out searching for this fight. They have not invaded anyone. They are within their borders. Have conquered no nations, territories, or peoples for literally thousands of years. They are a independent Persian people, who are in fact, actually Aryan in heritage. They have an exceptionally long history (3000 years +/-) as a unified people within an established territory. They have a very large country, and have stayed within its borders. They are an advanced race of people, not a backwards backwater country or some other stupid derogatory trope. And have a sovereign history dating back to long before the Greeks even wandered over there.

It is complete insanity in every form. Pure and total madness. And the literal definition of war crimes and/or crimes against humanity being inflicted on the people of Iran.

The US cannot win this war. Not in anyway whatsoever. And they all know that.

The US can of course blow a ton of shit up, but that doesn’t actually accomplish anything. You would think the USA would have learned this lesson from their completely failed military interventions over the past 70 years. They have not however.

In Reverse Order:

• Lost outright in Afghanistan.

• Stalemate after invading - Iraq II.

• Nicaragua - no outcome, just bullshit.

• No outcome after Iraq I, just status quo, like before the entire operation.

• Vietnam - lost outright, chased out to the very last man, running for their lives.

• Korea - stalemate, resulting ultimately, in a nuclear armed North Korea

• WWII - Pacific Theatre, the lone win, but only after Japan ran out of fuel and oil. We ultimately only won after we vaporized two completely innocent civilian cities. Destroying them completely, and reducing them to nothing but ash. By the way - it was mostly women, children, old and infirm in those cities. The men were long gone, and fighting in the military for years already. And how did we win again? By dropping not 1, but 2 atomic bombs on non-military targets. Wow - feel proud about yourself big guy? Fucking pathetic.

So our “leaders” have not learned from their history. They have repeated the idiocy of their failures over and over. Just changing countries and “ism’s” they pretend to fight.

Remember - a military force exists solely to protect your population and national borders. That is it. Iran is over 6,300 miles from our borders. Quite literally - halfway across the world. They can in no way attack us. Period, end of story.

But this is what all delusional terminal end-stage empires always do - push the limits of their empires borders outward, as their own interior crumbles away into dust.

• We lose outright fighting. We cannot conquer a united nation of 90 million people. No way. Can never happen.

• We lose financially. Dramatically accelerating our own financial and economic collapse.

• We lose politically. Demonstrating our absurdity and hubris for the world to see.

• We lose culturally and spiritually. Bankrupting our morals and ethics, and further dividing our population. Creating a population that has lost total faith in it’s government.

• And we lose in the Opportunity Costs. Focusing on stupid pointless shit abroad: wastes time, money, energy, effort, and of course - lives. All wasted on moronic asshole endeavors that lead no where. Should have used all those resources on our own country, and our fucking own needs!

We lose this Iran war in every way conceivable

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So of course, of all the important stuff I have written, I have had the biggest response to my Q & A post. As soon as I posted, I got flooded with a deluge of new questions from people all over the world. Hitting me with everything under the sun.

Man - I don’t have the answer to all life’s big questions.

I don’t know where babies come from… I’m assuming the stork, like we’ve been told. I don’t know if Santa is actually real… I would say yes, I’ve been seeing him in the mall since I was little. I guess a man can really become a woman, if he just says so, that’s what the media tells us. Although, if I sew elephant ears and a trunk on my pet lizard (Albert the First), I don’t know if that really makes him an elephant? There are some inconsistencies with the medias position on this issue. As in, Micheal Jackson was never deemed to be officially ‘white’ by the media, despite clearly being a middle-aged white woman. So who the fuck knows? I do know, that weirdo is roasting in hell right now. Fucking sick child-molesting pervert. But I’m not sure why he couldn’t change something like his race? Not when - you can clearly change something as immutable as ones gender. Ahhh… always more questions, rather than answers. Such is life.

I know what I know, and not much more. But I’ll do my best here, and answer some more of the questions people have been wondering about. And took the time to email over to me.

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Q: Where is the wildest place you have ever made love?

A: I have no fucking idea what ‘made love’ means.

If you mean - gone to pound town on some dime-piece buxom beauty, I can answer that one. The absolute wildest place I ever boofed some bimbo was mid-flight, while she was piloting a 747 jet liner transcontinental with about 400 people onboard. Sure we broke a whole host of FAA protocols there.

She was an absolute smoke-show. Truly stunning, and regal in her beauty. And there are not that many female captains out there. Let alone, packing H-Cup bazookas under their captains jacket. Wow - she was stacked. Thin, tall build, long hair, long legs, and absolute chest cannons under that uniform.

I was walking on the plane, and the crew was welcoming us on board. You take like 1 step per minute nowadays, so it takes forever to get seated. I got halted right next to her as we were all loading in. She smiled as I passed, and I tipped my hat, and shot her a wink. She blushed, and sent me a coy hand signal, maybe that meant something, I don’t know really.

Anyway, as I turned, I could see her shirt and jacket weren’t really fitting her correctly, despite her having a very nice build. Often - women with exceptionally large bazongas need to wear larger sized tops, just to get them to close over there enormous chestlights.

As events unfolded, I ended up in the cockpit mid-flight with this absolutely ravishing and alluringly vivacious aviator. And to my surprise, the co-pilot was also a gorgeous knockout of a heart breaker as well. Amply stacked, and packing her own atomic bombs under her robust and completely stretch to limits brassiere. Another voluptuously blessed female with a bosom that could not be contained by mere cloth and fabric. Another absolute stunner. A former volleyball player (as I would find out), and even taller with longer legs than the pilot. Am I dreaming here, am I really passed out asleep in my seat? Comatose on vodka tonics, nyquil, barbiturates, and horse tranquilizers? Nah man - this is really happening!

But, not being a short man myself, the 3 of us (all very tall) are now engaged in full-on passionate, amorous, aggressive, and pliable/flexible (out of need) debauched debased fornication. The apropos menage-a-trios - but at 40,000 feet in the air, at 500 miles per hour, in a small cramped cabin, with a $400 million dollar jetliner in the balance.

Lights flashing, switches being pushed back and forth, signals beeping, and alerts being turned off and on. Levers being used as braces, steering wheel used to support my ladies backsides, captains chair as a sex table. Obviously - not much room up there, gotta be creative. Slapping, hair pulling, choking, wild, violent, dangerously deranged mid-air fiery copulation.

Huge perky melons bouncing to and fro. Smashing off the side of my face, nearing concussion head-trauma levels. Bodies now completely intertwined, with over-grown bazooms being slapped and twisted to erogenous elevations not seen since Sodom and Gomorrah. The longest and most shapely of legs completely wrapped around my neck choking off my air supply. One lady on top of the other, bodily fluids being shot off multi-million dollar senors and screens. Bra’s and bustiers being used as support straps, and choke-collars, and my hawaiian shirt being completely torn to pieces. I would hazard a guess, and say, our flight path looked a bit chaotic.

That was the wildest place I ever ‘made love.’ Thanks for the question.

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Q: You say you work at the fair, in the ring toss booth - if you hadn’t found that job and enjoyed it, what other career do you think you’d like?

A: Great question. I have thought about this one before. I like miniature golf a lot. And have caught on TV (no I don’t have TV, but I was traveling, and getting my oil changed, and it was on at the place), and saw the professional miniature golfers league. I would like to do that.

Real golfers are just spoiled little pussy’s. Soft dick sissy’s. Limp wristed little pillow biting fucktards. Rich kids from country clubs, pretending to play a sport the athletic equivalent to throwing darts. Competing in a sport 1/10 of 1/1,000,000 of the population actual plays. And they’re all such insufferable crybaby brats. I fucking hate them.

But miniature golf? That shit is the bomb! I love that. I would be very happy on the traveling tour. Spending my days trying to get the ball into the clowns mouths, past the spinning windmill, or over the drawbridge and down to the castle.

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Q: What is your favorite type of bird?

A: Interesting question actually. I don’t think I have a favorite per se.

I will tell you though - the most vicious bastard of a bird I ever came up against was the monstrous and diabolical Speckle Breasted Mountain Toucan. In all seriousness - I am very fortunate to have survived that encounter. You can read about it: Here.

That was a battle for the ages, truly. And my hunting party (myself, my uncle, and cousins), are all very lucky to have come out victorious in that winner-take-all death match. That was touch and go there. We prevailed that day, but the next, might not have been so lucky. We took our lumps, our gashes, our divots, our pecks, but pulled victory (literally) from the jaws of defeat.

I do feel bad about slaughtering such a worthy adversary though. But it was him or us. Had I been alone that day? I would have surely been dispatched, and sent forthwith to my ancestors. My carcass used to adorn this great beaked butchers aerial lair. With my spirit returning to my ancestral homeland, high in the mountains of the inner Mongolian Steppes, from which my ancestors came.

He could have killed me with ease, that is for sure, had I been alone. But I had my family with me, and we fought as a unit, using traditional Mongolian trapping tactics when engaged with deadly modern day pterodactyls.

We worked together, and for that reason, and that reason alone, I was able to survive. He was a great warrior. I honor him regularly. And truly respect his courage, bravery, and tenacity. I shall see you again my formidable foe. And hope when we meet on the other side of all this - can break bread together, have a drink, and become friends. Your illustrious fighting spirit is not forgotten. Peace be with you, my most valiant of flying combatants.

That story being set aside - a lot of cool birds are out there in the yard or whatnot: Blue Jays, Cardinals, Humming Birds, Magpies, Kingfishers, Mockingbirds, and Painted Bunting Birds. They are all dope as fuck. I like those little guys.

I like (and greatly respect) all the birds of Prey. With Hawks being my absolute favorite. They are badass in every way. And combine all the attributes across the full hunting bird prowess spectrum - but embodied into a single form. Sure - some might be bigger, or faster, but needing everything all together, when everything is considered, nothing beats a Hawk! Absolutely cool as hell. Actually going back to the previous question - being a hawk trainer would be a cool job as well.

My favorite bird though…. the traditional tropical Parrot - red, yellow, and blue. Sitting on my shoulder like a champ. Talking to me, keeping me company, and whispering sweet nothings into my ear. Love them. Had one once, during my sailing adventures throughout the tropics, and across the 7 seas. Given to me by tribal chieftain on a remote island. A sign of respect, from one great warrior to another. And as a welcoming and friendship gift, meant to bring peace, and not lead to hostility. As a man like me, is not to be trifled with. Not by a great feathered aerial assassin, and not by a remote tribe, deep within the rain forests of the great forgotten.

Great Parrot, great guy, great friend. And always… a loyal compatriot. And also, like me - quite a sweet talker to the ladies. Many a nights I would come home, and find him with multiple ladies… and using my bed to boot. I didn’t teach him any of that. He just learned on his own.

Q: (from another lifter bro) So you don’t think bench is an important lift, ok then, which lift would you recommend?

A: Great question. Don’t get shit twisted, I like bench, I just said it doesn’t matter what you actually bench. Personally, I got nothing against it. It’s a classic, a staple, and a good exercise to turn on your natural growth hormones (telling them - wake the fuck here - I’m going all out - help me out), and good for chest development (obviously).

I just said compound movements are fucking better.

There are 2 Olympic Lifts. Just 2. That’s it. The snatch, which always goes first, then the clean & jerk.

Don’t ever do the snatch, you will rip all your body apart, hurt yourself, and in-turn, actually retard (that’s how you use that word) your progress. Fuck that shit. Unless you’re training with a hell of a coach, a lifting team, knowledgeable lifting partners (not gym bros), and are committed to taking years of your life to learn how to do it correctly - don’t ever fucking do it. You will 100% get fucking hurt. And I mean seriously hurt.

The clean & jerk is different. That’s a good lift. Full body type deal. Legs, lower back, upper back, abs, shoulders, traps, little bit of arms, focus on that.

Go with the muscles that make you better at that lift. Concentrate on front squats (never back squats), split leg lunges, box jumps, some form of half cleans, military presses, push presses, abs (all the time), back workouts (full deal), and upright rows. Yeah do chest and arms to look good, but any isolation movement only really develops that small narrow range of motion. And trains your muscles to only want to move - in that specific way. Cross-fit is dumb as fuck, and ultimately, you will get hurt doing it. But, they’re on the right path (at least theoretically). Full body workouts, body weight exercises, full range of motions employed, compound movements using your entire body for strength. Just - like everything else, it got all messed up as it progressed, and all fucking twisted now. But - they were at least on the right track initially.

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Q: I don’t believe you at all, with all the women to claim to be with. I think you’re full of it, and a liar. No way you can be as successful as you say you are.

A: Well fuckface, remember like with Jeopardy, to actually phrase your question - as a fucking question. You made, what we call a statement. Which is the opposite of a question. Details, details.

I get this a lot. It’s strange to me. I always laugh. Why - does what one person achieves, at all effect you? I never understood that.

If I said I can dunk a basketball (I can), would that bother you? If I said I can compete on the national ping-pong pro tour (I can’t), would that have any bearing on your life whatsoever? Or make you feel one way or another? I’m me, you’re you. We don’t effect each other my boy, it’s just that simple.

I know in school (the entire way - grade school till graduation), I could throw a fastball harder than anyone in my grade. How fast? I don’t fucking know, our radar gun was always all over the place, even from pitch to next pitch, literally seconds apart. Cheap ass piece of crap.

But eventually (just like you), someone would say, you aren’t the hardest thrower in the grade, I don’t believe you. And I would say - ok, congrats, believe whatever you like, but I am. I don’t win anything for it, and don’t get any prize for it, and no one is coming to interview me about this small trivial accomplishment, it’s just true. True in 4th grade, in 8th grade, and in 12th. I wouldn’t say it, if I couldn’t back it up. Because eventually (always), you have to back up what you claim. Remember that.

Specifically to your question - I truly have no idea the exact number, like I initially posted. Maybe 5,000 to 6,000 different bimbos slammed now. I really couldn’t tell you. I know before I was able to even grow a mustache, I had already nailed over 100 girls, all jimmy free. And I only know that, because I went through the yearbook, and marked off each girl with a number. And remember, I was obviously living at home, which greatly hindered my horizontal conquests.

Now - I’m not asking you to believe me, I gain nothing either way. Genghis Khan beats us all, and will never be caught, in that regard. And Wilt Chamberlain was always completely full of shit. He admitted that himself.

You don’t have to call me Dad. That’s fine. Your mom already does. Don’t get shit twisted tho, I ain’t your Father. I’m just the guy fucking your mom!

Remember when you came down in the morning, and someone had eaten all your apple pie, and you couldn’t figure out what happened? And you noticed all your fathers pictures were turned down, and picture frames pulled off the wall? Remember that? Yeah - that was me. We didn’t wake you, cause I shoved a sock your mom’s mouth, to keep her fucking quiet. Letting you stay asleep, and in dreamworld, and not thinking I was doing to your mom, exactly what you feared I was.

P.S. - loved the apple pie. Tell yourself whatever you need to sleep at night. I’ll keep your mom quiet for you. And keep drinking that haterorade (lol).

Q: (again about my ladies, lol) With all women you have been with, do you still remember your first one?

A: Absolutely! Miss Jayne Mansfield. I miss you sweetie. I was but a lad then. But I still hold you near and dear to my heart. Never forgotten. RIP my angel.

Share Atreyu of the plains people

Thanks - I guess keep sending me the emails, questions, and comments.

But I’m really focusing on nanotechnology, smart hydro-gel, synthetic biology, and the attempted cellular hi-jacking of all biologic life with this demonic agenda tied into the Digital Control Grid and Neo-Feudalism.

That’s really what I expected the questions to be about. That’s where all my energy and research are at the present time. And it’s kind of a big fucking deal!

Keeping a sense of humor about life, keeps my mind from collapsing in on the very real and horrifying terribleness being inflicted on our species. That is how I deal. And you will need to find your own way.

Because it’s absolutely real, and exactly what I have laid out in my substack history.

So you will need to find a coping strategy yourself. To keep from going outright bezeerk at that the fucking retarded sheeple destroying our unified messaging and evidence presentations. And in the saddest, and most ironic twist - as the controllers so fervently work to invert the perceptions of the very people they subjugate, the sheeple end up doing their work, they themselves could not accomplish. Which is truly infuriating.

Now - me, and all like me, who are all here trying to help - you need to stop fighting us. We are not telling you to outright believe what we are saying. We are telling you - to start investigating it for yourself. To wake the fuck up, open your eyes, and if you think what we are saying is wrong - go out and prove how. We beg for investigation and love the light. They can only hide in the shadows. That’s how you can tell which side is telling the truth.

Unfortunately - the push back to what all of us on this side write, just boils down to - you’re crazy, you’re quacks, you’re conspiracy theorists.

• Ok, think it through - your default position is to blindly believe EVERYTHING the government tells you?

• And if anyone disagrees EVER, they are crazy ones? Come on now man. The government has proven over and over and over - they lie about everything, all the time, for any reason, and change their lies at the drop of a dime. Their lies don’t even stay consistent. They just change them whenever it serves them.

• BUT - if an independent voice challenges any of the governments stated assertions - they are conspiracy theorists? OMFG - come on now, see with your own eyes. That logic, isn’t even internally consistent within it’s own retarded universe.

• If you accept that the government lies (duh, of course), your default position cannot still be to believe them. That is illogical.

• The only rational position then - would be to make them prove (show to you) that they are actually telling the truth. By instituting absolute radical transparency, and timely open-source investigations. With full spectrum analysis by independent and non-gov’t aligned researchers. That is the only logical response.

• But they aren’t doing that are they? Nope. Not one fucking bit. Fighting it every step of the way.

• Hence, your default position must be - they have a lot to fucking hide!

So ok, you don’t believe me? Ok then - go prove I’m wrong. Take the time to learn about this. I beg you to. Investigate all aspects of it, and come back, and prove I am wrong. Please - dive as deep as you can!

And (if and when) you engage in the process of actually learning about all this, and not just parroting stupid narrative talking-points, you will clearly see we are the ones trying to help. And they (the controllers) are the ones retarding (again, that’s how you use that word) our incredibly necessary progress. If I beg you to get involved, draw your own blood, let it dry, and watch the poly-ethyl-glycol separate and become rubberized, what the fuck do I have to hide? I am fucking begging you to explore all of this!

But here - look for yourself - nanotechnology, smart hydro-gel, and synthetic biology forming in your blood. As you sit there, reading this shit.

The little circles on the right hand side - yeah, those are your red blood cells all fucking destroyed. Sticking together, being completely blocked by the hydrogel, and starved off from oxygen, movement, and nutrients. Destroying their natural replenishment cycles, producing toxic iron excess, fibrogen, amyloid proteins, and 10 other horrible byproducts from this assault.

All to form synthetic biology artificial scaffolding structures (that are signal conductive). They didn’t tell you that part, when you rolled up your sleeve for the Covid shot, did they? But it’s the same thing now laced into the food, water, medicine, products, and of course - those fucking chemtrails you see everyday now. All that stuff contains exactly what is pictured above - just in smaller doses.

Covert transformation of the human species.

All biologic life actually, but lets take it one step at a time.

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Just Please Keep in Mind - that is forming in your fucking blood. Right fucking now.

In the words of WWF Kurt Angle: oh it’s true, it’s damn true.

And completely fucking unreal (I might add).

*Safe and Effective they told you*

I tell you - go buy a fucking microscope and see for yourself.

Crash course right here: Must See

(I believe I have read every word on the site, viewed every image, and watched every video on the entire substack. I suggest you do the same)

Not much time left to fight back, stop doubting the people trying to help you!

Anyway, as always…best,

-Atreyu

I’d like to take the time and answer some of those that have reached out to me over the past couple of months. I think it’s cool people have taken the time to send me their questions.

I ain’t no oracle, and not that smart, and definitely don’t want people outsourcing their agency to me. I’m still counting on my fingers and such, playing in sandboxes, and falling off my bicycle. But I’ll pull a few cool questions and do my best to answer them.

Remember - all the ‘answers’ you need are inside you!

Never look to outside ‘experts’ to give you what you already have.

But anyway - I’ll answer the ones more specific to me, or what I can shed light on, or what everyone is still getting wrong - that is fucking driving me nuts.

If you keep your questions more concise - I can pull the text directly and it will look better. But since most of them are quite long and verbose, I have to summarize it down to make it fit in here. Doing that - makes it at least readable and flow better.

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Questions that have tickled my funny bone…

Q: Is your name really Atreyu?

A: Nah man - it’s from a fucking movie. A fucking badass classic of a movie. Which is surprisingly relevant and exceptionally poignant for what we are all dealing with today.

It’s more applicable than you could possibly fucking know!

I like Atreyu because he’s fearless. Because he doesn’t stop even when he knows he can’t win. Because he keeps going even when he’s seemingly lost everything. And there aren’t that many people like that anymore.

We’re at that point now, civilization/population wise. We can’t win, we can’t stop what’s coming, and can’t beat our opponents in the traditional sense of winning.

We can only outlast them now. We can only detach from the system killing us, do our own deal, build our own parallel structures, and win by surviving. This is our asymmetrical warfare strategy. We have to think creatively here. We can’t ‘vote’ our way out of this. We can’t ‘fight’ the powers doing this. And we can’t ‘reform’ the system. We can only let it fail (and it absolutely will), and create a new (and hopefully better) one after. We win as a civilization when we stop listening to them!

Yeah - collapse sucks, and it will be very rough (to say the least). But it also clears the slate of this horrible system for us. And gives us (the sane ones) the small time-frame we have so badly needed, to hopefully create something better. Collapse is not always bad. Think of it more like a much needed correction. A correction of a system that is colossally beyond corrupt. Don’t even think of it as collapse, just a reorganization. You can never build something new, when something destructive is standing there in it’s place keeping everyone blocked with all it’s force. So, think of the ‘collapse,’ as the fucking opportunity we have been waiting for!

Understand this - Atreyu couldn’t beat “The Nothing,” because The Nothing was not an actual thing. It was the loss of meaning. The loss of purpose. The loss of hope and direction. The loss of goals and drive. The aimlessness and hopelessness that comes into peoples lives when they lose real purpose and meaning. And when people lose all sense of true purpose - they turn into what we have now. Just aimless mindless blobs. Consumers of neverending streams of garbage. Just phone scrolling morons. Wasting their lives on feeds of trash and filth. Browsing pointlessly around various forms of preconstructed inverted perverted corporate media.

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Q: You reference wrestling and wrestlers in some of your posts, do you have a favorite wrestler?

A: Nah man - wrestling is gay as fuck.

It’s fucking stupid and boring. And most of the wrestlers are complete fucking retards! Plus, they’re all closet-case homosexuals oiling themselves up and fucking each other in their gay assess backstage. Wrestling is BrokeBack Mountain - without the mountain. Bathhouse gay type shit. I fucking hate it. It’s the dumbest shit ever invented. I have no idea how dudes pretending to fight, who are really acting out a choreographed dance routine, while oiled up in their undies, ever became mainstream entertainment. That boggles my mind.

With all that being said… if I was forced to pick one bad-ass wrestler I actually did like, I would go with Razor Ramon. Bad guys never die!

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Q: You seem to be quite the ladies man, how many women have you been with?

A: I have no fucking idea. How many stars are up there in the night sky? I couldn’t even hazard a guess. I’ve never stopped and counted. Perhaps several thousand or more now. Thousands upon thousands upon thousands. Most of them - very, very large. But a true number? I actually don’t know. I’ve been with beautiful women my entire life. I guess I’m just lucky.

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Q: (from a female fan) What do you think is more important: the melons or the honey buns?

A: Great question! I’ve wondered about that exact time-honored question ever since my pickle woke up and began to work. I love them both, and can’t fucking pick.

But I will say - the frame is also important. In that, no matter the actual weight of the woman, you need that hourglass frame to make both the melons and honey buns really pop!

I’m not saying being skinny, or anything like that, I love the large ladies, don’t get me wrong. I’m saying the bust and hips need to be farther out than the waist, in the silhouette outline deal. Giving the curves we all love so much. If you lose the midsection, it just turns into a big globe overall impression type deal. Still a lot fun to play with (for fucking sure). I’m just speaking about the aesthetic impression the female form makes when well balanced.

Q: What is your favorite type of tree?

A: That is a surprisingly very smart question. Without trees none of us are here. If you see someone chopping down a tree for no good reason - punch them square in the face. Plant trees, don’t hurt them.

We need trees to live, period. They take out all the bad stuff from the air, and give off exactly what natural organic biologic life needs. This is the balance of this big beautiful planet. Nature works in rhythms. If you mess up the rhythm, you mess up life. Bob Ross understood this. Stick with Bob Ross. RIP my friend, you are missed.

Trees are fucking beautiful. Tall and green. Flowering and blooming. They give shade and coolness in the summer. And in the winter, block the wind. And if you have the right type of conifer tree’s close to your house, help keep it warm (all for free!).

They give awesome, healthy, nutritious fruit to us to eat for fucking FREE. All crazy high in vitamins, antioxidants, anti-disease fighting compounds, anti-sickness and anti-cancer molecules that naturally ward off all the horrible stuff they are inflicting on us. You should only eat stuff that grows in nature, and was once running around wild. Plants and animals. Do that - you got a good chance of coming through this madness.

If I had to pick my favorite tree - I would of course say Palm Trees, Pine Trees, and all types of Flowering and Fruit Trees. I can’t pick a specific type of fruit tree, cause I love them all. They are all amazing. And they are God’s true gift to this planet. Please understand - health comes from nature, and being in-tune with it. If you’re eating chemicals - you are going to get sick, period…end of story.

My absolute favorite tree is the North American Sugar Maple Tree in Fall. Nothing on this earth even comes close. Beauty as perfect as it gets.

If you haven’t planted a tree yet, you don’t deserve the air they give you!

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Q: (from another female fan) If you had one piece of advice to give young women out there, what would it be?

A: Keeping this family friendly, as I actually try to, I will answer honestly. I do restrain my writing tremendously, believe it or not. I would say - look back at the history of this planet, and ask yourself how families survived as long as they have?

It was because of Mothers and Fathers. Them together. In a home. Raising their children. That is how.

In that, when someone asks a young woman - what do you want to be when you grow up, why do you always pick some ridiculous corporate profession? Like regional manager of acquisitions for some mid-level regional bank, in the corporate desk/email hierarchy of bullshit nonsense is not a good goal. And definitely not what keeps families strong and together. Being right there with your family - IS. Raise a family! Not a pointless consumer based corporate career that removes you from the home and your children’s lives.

The next time you are asked that question - say, first and foremost, I want to be a mother, a wife, and a role model for my kids. I want to be a homemaker, and the bedrock of a stable home life for my family. And I want to be a devoted dependable partner for my husband.

Families have to become the focus again. Without them, society fails. Look around. It absolutely has failed. And that is exactly why. Everyone knows this. Now we fight back - and stop it.

No one and nothing from the corporate world will ever be there for you when things get rough. Think the corporate HR employee will drive you back and forth to the hospital week after week? Will your HR Team come pull you out of a ditch when you skid in the snow and get stuck? Will your employee relations representative loan you a few thousand dollars when you get stuck in a real rough spot, and just need a helping hand? No. Absolutely not. Only family will.

So - without mothers that value their roles raising strong, bonded, responsible, stable and connected families, the rudder comes off all our social structures. Then the off-spring float aimlessly untethered, and have nothing to pull them back to the ship. That is the destruction the powers that be want. We can defeat that at home. Mother, Father, and Children - all dedicated to their families. And supporting one another without fail. That is how we beat this death spiral they constructed all around us.

Create a successful family - not a career!

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Q: What is your biggest pet peeve?

A: Great question! I’ll answer that in 2 parts. The small thing, and the big thing.

The small thing - is jackasses going out and ordering coffee like it’s a fucking science experiment. Half this, half that, extra this, sprinkle of that, fat free non GMO soy organic vegan blah blah blah. Sheep’s milk with goat milk, with dash of foam bullshit, and this other horseshit, topped off with a giant shot of whipped cream and crack cocaine. Oh my fucking god!

It’s a cup of fucking coffee you asshole.

You ain’t constructing the a-bomb here.

Creating absurd consumerist monstrosities to assert your individualism is the dumbest fucking shit I have ever seen. Play any card you want in the house casino, it’s still their fucking house. You want to show your individuality? Do it not by ordering jackhole coffee creations. Do it by thinking for yourself.

What percentage of Americans fell hook, line, and sinker for the Covid lie? Oh that’s right - about 70 percent! So all these “individualistic” assholes ordering their bizarrely extravagant $11 coffee’s, got at least one of those death shots! You are not unique, you are sheep. Paint your hair any color you fucking want: pink, purple, blue - you all look like clowns. You want to be different - think critically and come up with your own conclusions about things.

Using an invisible germ they said traveled the entire world, and big scary fear inducing words, they convinced these stupid human dildos to roll of their sleeves and allow a gene-corrupting nanotechnology synthetic biology operating platform to be injected right into them. No questions asked. True definition of cattle. The ‘people’ turned into sheeple. And sheep (by the way) are non-thinking animals. Simply used, then slaughtered.

Besides - you should just be drinking water anyway. Think there is some coffee stream out in the wild, that all our ancestors used to drink from in the morning? Fuck out of here.

The big thing - the sheeple fighting the wolves trying to help them from detaching from their shepherds (controllers).

The world (in our view on this side), is basically divided into 3 parts. You have the Wolves - who are the resistors, and trying to help. You have the Sheeple - who are the enforcers of stupid policies by their self-righteous stupidity and ignorance. And you have the Shepherds - who are instituting this madness and controlling the sheeple for power.

Wolves = resistors

Sheeple = compliers & enforcers

Shepherds = controllers

That’s fucking it. That’s the whole deal. It’s very easy to understand.

So my giant fucking pet peeve - are all the idiot sheeple trying to enforce policies that in fact, turn out to only subjugate themselves.

God - that fucking drives me nuts!

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Q: (from a bro lifter) How much can you bench?

A: enough to kick your ass!

I can bench a whole fucking lot bro, including the bench itself. But that shit doesn’t matter. Life… and a fight, sure as fuck ain’t a static controlled movement for 1 rep.

So it doesn’t really fucking matter how much anyone can bench. I would instead focus on combat training, various forms of fighting disciplines, striking, wrestling, judo, submission or brazilian jiu-jitso, functional strength training (ie compound movements), and even gay ass things like cross-fit or total body movement boot camps.

To answer the question directly - I’ll answer it like this - the average weight of the land-whale debutantes I slam is between 300 - 400 lbs. But I have gone much, much higher with some of the sassy seductive and elephantine women I have landed.

If I couldn’t easily handle their weight, I would have died trapped underneath them long ago.

Thanks for all your questions. Keep them coming. I will post another installment when I get some more cool questions.

- Atreyu