{ETM S10E00- Prieview} [THEYAMS.]

She's REAL! I'm telling you she is. Sweetie, I know you have had a lot going on lately, but— I'm serious! She was sitting in the audience! She had the same glasses on and everything! Oh, come on. I should be meditating. The likelyhood that I might actually be belonging into a hive mind has recently kept me from furiously masturbating. Bad news for the helicopter making a habit of hovering outside my window. Here's hoping she's dressed this time! [F-f-f-f] Nope. Synopsis “The child within” A frustrated present day Drew Barrymore sees a familiar face in the audience of her hit daytime tv show—formerly thought of as her imaginary friend, from a very young age, Ms. Drew Barrymore has not seen the mysterious figure since her first major film role, after which she mysteriously disappeared— the creature, a time traveling and shapeshifting multidimentional tasked with the duty of bringing future celebrities from one realm into another—and even sometimes perhaps preventing obstacles or adversaries in their path along the way— must meet the future stars and alert them of their unique qualities, nurturing the intrinsic sense of charisma and charm that will supply value to the subject's career and lifetime achievements— In attempting to convince a room full of New York's own fabrication of Hollywood TV People that a figure drew even thought herself to have supposedly re-emerged, she is met with judgement and dismissal, even by “her people”, during which a small piece of her spirit— “The Child Within” angrily breaks away from her adult self; in a sense, they are both invisible—as no one will seriously listen to Drew's rationalizations or theories, and reccomend more intensive mental health care and treatment—and as the child within, unseen and unheard loses her patience in the inevitable invisibility, she separates herself to presume her former mission; finding that ‘very strange lady' whom with she had beforehand seemingly adventures with timelessly. So that's where I left off. Pretty much— Doesn't this lady just— Whatever, I do have more things to do than I thought. I'll have to get back to it later. I wrote this days ago; I didn't write it—but I've been thinking about it, so there it is. Maybe— Whatever. More coffee. I've been starting my days between 6 and 8 PM with very strong cups of coffee— Compliments of the Television people, of course. What about that other storyline— the one where she's like a spy or something? You mean Charlie's Angeles! No, I mean like actual CIA. What was she even doing? I don't know; looking mad serious in a blazer. Posh. So very, {Enter The Multiverse} NO, BILLIE! WHYYYYYYYY! WHYYYYYYYYYYYY. Cause it's shark week. WHAT THE FUCK DOES THIS HAVE TI DO WITH SHARKS?! I Dont know yet. I know better than to Click a photo of you, when I've been thinking of you Too much Aren't you –At least Curious (To say the least, but–( Learned enough The first time Second time Third time Fourth rung don't care Time's up Problem solved I know better (Just a touch.) I know better The world is mad I know better Fingers crossed I know better I'm all alone I know better I know better I heard my neck break at the end of the rope I heard a gunshot in the distance We all wondered which sounded better The rock i'm under (A curse, or a spell?) A blood bond ritual An occult oath, it's Too many simpletons, Singletons, scratch and sniff, motion pictures Who art thou? Who art I not? Very well. No more, if you would remain. As I must. And yet, I have come to end thy reign. Very well. Oh, again? Oh, as always. I've done nothing in my right to mark tirade. Many ears. –and many hearts. Take mine, an honor. Your head, i'd rather. Say again. I'd rather your head. Very well. Dismiss, you. They are as one. A fair right. It's not as bad as you think. It's worse than it was. Now there's stuff all over it. What is this stuff?! Don't worry about it. There are tears. No remains. No remains. None at all? I'd rather burn than buried. And your Kingdom? –I'd rather burn than buried. Or–? Or buried than burned, but gone at all. Gone at once. As with this. So it is. It's not in the blood; You won't find it. –I'll find it. Not that way. __ GODDDAMN. YOu'RE SO DUMB. You're so fucking–stupid. I'm a genius. Not for long! You're a dead man. Your highness! And who is this? His highness's executioner; perhaps also yours. On what charges?! Dismissal at once. On my time! –and tell no others of this. –and you? Steady well in my greeting. And how? A lady upon a throne, not I, but still fair castel And wages of ageless. So it doesn't matter! So it doesn't. So it can't–matter Shouldn't have to. Somebody just kill this poor fuck already. On it. Oh, I get it. It's his face. L E G E N D S - ASCENSION Listen, Potter; I don't know how you did this! I don't know how I did this! I'm not Harry Potter! My name is Daniel Radcliffe, and– This place should be spotless. It is…spotless. {Enter The Multiverse} When you think you're hearing voices, But you're actually telepathic.; I think it's getting worse now; I wish I was just manic I think I need a manager; I think I need some magic, I think I got a half an oz Just sitting my my backpack That's a lot of cocaine, man. It's not that much. It's more than regular. That's fair. Way, way more. More than usual. I am very wasted. Just let me touch your face And let the age sit in Take in the day The cage sits in a mailbox And it withers with my divedends, Still, I'm writing Heroism, hedonism Circumstance, Frantic as an orgasm, And laughs just as much hard as that I came in color These marginal differences, I've been levitating, Marrying the thought of just l Decapitating every nation. Severed heads as one, To stand the wicked bodies Oaths if over oceans stand as borders Who deserves to sail For failures craving fortunes? Withstand this, I mark true— On your duty of my decaying Stands as justice, and still this You haven't fortuned, For arrogance is the truest of humor And wit to none, wiser thinking He is or are that may Be stronger in the notion that There is no other but himself! And so I pardon! Dear, your honor Fight for festherwate for masterpieces Cherished and forbaroned in the faithless, Wise and withered none, but lying waking Barking tides, wishes foul and ordinary; There you wait for judgement, And call I, Boundless as you found her As one, And I say— There, there; There you are in marked for God, Calls none but I, others Seeking in the wate of judgement. Fair and Farrows of the ache And bound I, still now To causing none but fortune, Still truth waits in the ark you have tied us To, in hundreds number There I wait, And there I come, still Now in time, You are we And I are Together Not tied, But marked as one, As such, this now Is where embarked Dither will you. Whatever the fuck that means. Must mean something. You DJ…magic? I do whatever I want. Awh—oh, well. Why are you so nervous? Just aM. Sit down. I'm already sitting. Lower. Uh, like this? On the floor. Alright… Here's a cushion for your arse; Don't get up. Thank you. I'm going to make tea. —I take cream in mine; two sugars. I didn't ask! [in almost no time, and some heavy clamoring through the beaded entry to the doorway, a teacup appears on the table in front of him; it slowly begins to swirl, filling with tea—it fills nearly to the brim, steaming, and trembles a touch.] Um… [as he raises his finger with a timid objection, the cup of tea plumes with a cloud of cream—and while his eyes widen with amazement, drawing him closer to the cup, two cubes of sugar splash into the tea; two tiny drops of tea ricochet into his right eye, which he palms with a wince, his other eye still wide with awe; the woman re enters the parlor, carrying a traditional tea tray, a decadent silver platter adorned with an assortment of sweets, and a tea set. She places the platter at the center of the table, and the table sets itself; the table is now set for four, and the teapot pours itself at the head of the table, into the woman's teacup. That ought to do it. It worked! Of course it worked; it always works. Very nice. I see you got my message. [still distracted and in a sort of wonder by the whimsical uproar, the man's attention is aimed at the two empty places at the table. ] Are you expecting company? I'm always expecting company… My hands are tied behind my back You solid wasted time for facts; And steady drawing love for oaths To skin we carve The path of ours, Orion's Belt Something seems off about her There is something strange, no doubt. Unwilling to be by (Sacred vows) Distant In the calling for forests— So we wait Tears as raindrops, though drought has fallen Then reflected in words of others, The mind gone, All else rotten Silk ties, my ears There words, soft voices The other seeking, One running Then came and went The summer gone The spring had flowers The over dried The tongue sparked Horror, Forgotten Remembered, Then, valued and weeping for something else Stranger tide, Oceans foreign, And lands unconquered. Heavy rain, Though tears has dried Heavy hearts as service ended Nothing left my ions, clouds Mercury, women, blood drawn Sad strange, headless, gasping Horse drawn outlets, Incapable of telling fortune; Dust, Dust, Dust, Dust— The curse has broken And still there was love there, and then There was love there all along, For there to had ever been A dance at all. I hate you. Good riddance. Probably for the best, Nothing‘S for the best now! “Best In Show” Name? McNulty. McNulty, eh? Aye. I recognize that You don't say. I shouldn't. Now I see your position And the evidence is adding up All odds against me Not a shiver up my spine Or a sliver under my nail Or a silver in your hair, Nor silver moon, or moonlight Silver stone or Preston Presley or Evenston —so it is—a game. This big network This big chunk change This been (Isn't isn't it) Rolling around in my mind, for days Very well now, settled— Then, there you are A cloud Nevermind the rest of it, It's what we said in the beginning I will always See you in another— I will always See you in another I will always See you In Another It's your move. It's been my move for four decades. Light. More visibility— Yo the ante; I have not dismissed you yet Stead classmates, taking Are you high now— Are you done yet? There it is again; The enemy Nevermind ahain, I thought I'd lose you And there it still is, Can it be? Love in my eyes for you; Even if you are at best Just a mirror, I'm a flashbulb And the last party at your entourage. I don't encourage any carbon dating Honey, But if you are I've got a lesson, for ye— Bored armor, Settle down, I— Got to tell you, Steady stories; Still foggy on my upbringing, There, there I say, Wind moves in all directions All skies get cloudy, Call rain, And then clear again There, there now All skies move, without notice There, there now, All is known but never is not There are things, There are murders, There are tongues There are trials, There are ions, You are right, And scared laying asking not to call out Therefore anyway, I heard you yelling with only a whisper There, there you are Right near the top, Where you ought to be And then also, Moving steady for forwards From another superimposed, Depends on Signal lost Very well, then, Surf to calling, Ring to spark, I There you are, my love Another light, And then, Again— In another life. I will always see you. The shit that falls out of me with just a look. We've all got jobs to do, and as it turns out— it might be really all the same. One job, different tasks, but for one, it's for certain— I want the peppermint swirl. Give me a dozen assorted I put it all on on a (Turn turn) I put it all on a (Turn turn turn) Woah, buddy— You should not have taken those promotional photos wearing my eyes, man. I am not very photogenic. I'll call you back. I could give you the whole Moon and it still wouldn't be enough; I'm home and still there's no roof over my head Hanging on to the edge of a ladder The top at the bottom And life on its side Like it's upside down Inside out Minus 1 And I don't want to go there Minus 5 And I can't read negatives Minus 9 And minutes turn to nothing Gone the time All out battles with All who waited And close to those Were meetings, Designations, Heroes, Writers, Ice cream trucks Tough battles Winners— Games and Levitating on so secretly secrets say “God, Donald, you're on your own” But heavy greetings wash out All who were away at your essence Strings of gold Very wary Wavy heroin, I'm all galaxies Are you whole, in Stuffed stalker, Tin straw hats Carols in summer Marking stones Summer days Summer Are you in here Or out here After all had died And gone grey Still against my head The tender sparkles Of sparked dust, No stars yet Under city winds and Careful not to wake the sound of Delicate and soft Pink detergent And Careful not to thank the Conditioner, saved you Careful Safety Comes first Careful Safety Careful Careful Careful Calm down. She's a partial obsessive… You were tricked into writing all this. Tricked willingly, anyway. No, just tricked. You thought you were special. I realized I had to be when I saw the same thing twice on both ends — I'm just doing my rounds. Making the bed Playing catch up Doing check ups— Well done, boys. I know what you are now. The job is done. The job is a job. [I'm seeing my clarity.] Try not to lay next to me eating; Try not to stand here on such a heavy plane Try frequency, Dignity, Disgrace and Distress, Maybe Major Mayday NATO Bombs down Maybe Stay there Maybe faraway But I can hear you Taking in Shallow breaths Planes crash Plans fail And then— There I was remembering All of a sudden There was no actual plan in this I was just playing by ear. So you are in there. Somebody nail me to a cross and tell me what the Fallon equivalent to Skrillex following me from LA to Brooklyn just to leave me in a homeless shelter to rot— 11 And though eventually I came up kind of okay on the other side affects, the paralyzing realization that I never wanted anything but proper mating. That's, for facts, but— Now with this looming Over my grave I'm sure I've yet something else to worry about just In general. I was told to keep my mouth shut. Weren't we all. I wasn't really interesting in meeting someone seriously— in fact. As it turned out, I still had a little more muse to milk out of the last one, but even the tarot was being a stickler— I could risk ending it all and putting a nail in the coffin by actually watching the tonight show—but there would be a possibility it all would backfire and it would just reignite that spark, or worse—I'd become fully engulfed in flames by whatever it was that seemed to appear—and it seemed to appear so vividly and with rapid strength that it couldn't be stopped or controlled. A serious amount of money had to have been implemented to my paying attention to this, and beyond that— it all had to have been carefully premeditated. While at least now at the bookshop I was drawn to books from Oprah's book club, what had occurred couldn't possibly be ignored—actually, it couldn't be, at all— but instead of eating at me in its usual way, I had more just began to realize that there must have been in play some purpose. Feeling faraway from my actual creative self, there seemed to be something missing at all generating even a general sense of understanding of what normalcy was— when had actually been the last time I had been touched at all in a way that might make me feel as if I was still human— as if I was normal— but I knew I wasn't. It's time for a change. The thought of being with someone, especially just anyone, was bizzare. I gave up on love a lot of times; But this is when it became official. I was listening to a rap album I had never heard before And in this rap song, he said “This hoe got a 7 year degree and still selling pussy” What in the fuck. One way one way ticket Why bother getting a 7 year degree If your value as a black woman Is so low You can get a 7 year degree And still have to be a prostitute What the fuck is the point. It goes the other way, too. What is the point of selling pussy without a 7 year degree? She's gonna make more than me in all the professions. I gave up on love at all. That right there is how low value we are, not just to the black man, but any man. 7 year degree and you can charge more an hour, but you're still a technical hoe. I want to fucking die. When I married my ex I was pregnant with twins; When i got pregnant with the twins I was about 350 pounds. So by the time we got married, I was 6 months pregnant with twins. He had a right to cheat! I forgave him. But the first time he hit me Like really hit me Not just like A heavy shoving or ike A lil. You know Choke out– Like the real deal Like knocked me the fuck Almost all the way out Saw the white light and everything By the time that all went down I'm like 170-180 He's still, mind you, like 300 I lost weigh He lost his mind; so i'm lets round up Like 180 pounds But in my mind i must be thinking somewhere i'm still 300 He came at me with a running start, I put my hands up like: I must have thought i actually had a chance I took a fighting stance like: He said Fphew PULL A RABBIT OUT A HAT damn . what year is this really? You just got sampled . Say, what's his job? Well, that's an informer. Chris Rock forsure some kind of genius I saw him do GIlbert Godfried And Sam Kinison In the same show. The show was dated, though; He literally said “I'm married: I don't cheat.” I knew it must have been a joke. I knew it had to be a joke, or it had to be dated, Cause being real, I listen to too much kanye To even believe that Or even laugh at that Not too much kanye Just enough Kanye, He said “If I pull up with Kerri washington, That's gon' be an enormous scandal” I might have Niomi Campbell, Still might want me a stormy daniels And ya'll tried to get trumps supporters to turn against him By exposing that he fucked this bitch? That's like an achivement. That's like a status symbol. I'm sure these idiots praise him for that. He might have even gotten more popular That's not a scandal That's PR. On that note, I think Chris Rock was the very guy Who made me decide to stay single forever He talked about the way, apparently, men want to kill their wives; The way they fantasise killing us When we're in the relationship Now, ill say I never once thought about killing my ex husband During the relationship Even after he hit me. Never once. The only time i started wishing a karmic death upon this person was when I left the relationship And he stopped fantasizing about it And actually tried to fucking kill me Once I realized this was happening Only then did I start to think “Oh damn, i hope that motherfucker just drops the fuck dead” This motherfucker beat me, AND tried to kill me, Only then was i like damn “Return to sender” I hope you die too, You fat piece of shit wifebeater motherfucker I hope you die too. Only after he tried to kill me. After I left. Had to hire a fucking voodoo fucking sorceress and shit “yo , take this curse off me, This motherfucker tried to kill me” Fuck that motherfucker. Apparently though they fantasisze it all the time, I'm thinking about all the times he would play this song iroinically enough, By kanye west So maybe too much Kanye West Or just enough, Kanye said “I thought about killing you today.” He used to play this song, And beat my ass, And I never once thought “I hope he dies” Shit, After the first time he really beat my ass, He ran away. He got scared; He had to run. My face was all hanging off my head and shit Blood all over the place My lip is disconnected from my whole jaw and shit He ran away; He darted out the front door He said “I'm gonna kill myself!” And he rain away– Even then even just after he beat my ass I never thought about killing him Or wanting him to die He just fresh beat my ass; He just straight up finished whooping my whole ass and he said “I'm gonna kill myself” He realized what he did “I'm gonna kill myself”, he said And he ran out the door And here I am With my lip hanging off my whole face Blood all on the walls Pool of blood on the floor, the whole thing babies crying; The whole The whole fucking HBO special The whole nine yards And he said “I'm gonna kill myself” And my dumb ass said “NO! Don't!” He ran out the door, I'm freaking out Blood everywhere Babies crying and shit “Come back! Think about the kids! Don't kill yourself” Like a dumbass. Turns out that was just a tactic, He broke me down good, I was like “Don't kill yourself” He said “...you gonna call the cops.” He said “...alright, I won't kill myself.” Boom. That's a real killer. Looking back on all this, I can't help but think to myself, What i would have done differently Not the whole “I should have left before any of that happened” I was the mother of two young children; I wanted to try after the cheating to make things work, Fast forward after that Turns out he was fantasizing about killing me the whole time He beat mya ass, ran away, Left me in a pool of blood with my two kids He said I'm gonna kill myself Looking back at that momet, The thing I wish I could change is this If i had to do it over again And he beat me like that In front of my kids And then said “I'm gonna kill myself” I would have said “do that shit.” Lock the door behind his ass, Change the lock, Pick my face up off the floor, call an ambulance And the polce, change names Pick up my life And leave forever. “Nigga–who?” “Momma who was our daddy? What was he like?” “Ya'll ain't got a daddy. I made ya'll myself” End of story. Whatever. Everything happens for a reason though. I learned my lesson. Now i don't argue with anyone at all Men, women–nobody If i even sense that same shit That psycho killer shit– I become as silent and invisible as possible And simply Disappear. “Disappear.” I had a migraine and I knew it was from pressure buildup and stress, so I thought to get rid of it I ought to make one of those hot-compresses with rice. But the only rice I had was jambalaya flavored— But the headache was obviously really bad, So I was like, “fuck it.” Poured it into a gym sock And popped it in the microwave, Put it on my neck— My neck smelled like a pot roast, But it worked. {Enter The Multiverse} There was something in my lungs, forcing me to breathe deeply, with a raspy wheezing wind out of my lungs, and with a steady cough, I was able to offload whatever it was waiting in my chest to be released, along with it, at least part of the pressure that was making even just sitting and reading nearly unbearable, collecting into a harsh migraine paralyzing each and every other breath with a sharp pain underneath the back of what seemed to be somewhere below my ear canal and somehow, a pressure somewhere behind my eye, probably a result of the excruciating process of shoving earplugs into my ears in order to drown out the outside noise, which paired with that of my seemingly devoid neighbors, often became wildly unsettling, and while lately the clamoring had created not only an uneasy tremor in my left hand, but also apparently a sudden onset of occasional vruxism, the anxiety overall seemed to be surmounting into what could only be described as something trying to kill me, for which I could no longer ignore not as delusions or paranoia, but absolute fact. As I had learned, modern psychology might have been the equivalent of what one could even be certain to be the devil itself, unable to distinguish patterns often associated with creative genius, self manifestation, and psychic abilities and intuition, as delusions of grandeur, paranoid thinking, or worse— diagnoses as psychotic. However, my grandiosity was neither imagined nor delusional—my podcast series alone had been read and listened to all over the world, translated into foreign languages and transcribed, and had been downloaded hundreds of thousands of times since its publishing; though not a technically recognizable figure, I had realized that I had in my own right become somewhat famous, if even off of the back or even under the umbrella of another famous individual, to whom the series itself had been entrusted. Receiving though not by mainstream media standards upwards of at least 10 downloads per episode, the series had no actual gauge or marker for its actual success and polularity—without being able to see information from a major streaming platform—Spotify, and without being able to measure the amount of downloads which had then been duplicated and shared otherwise, I started to recognize with a certain understanding what a cult following was, and the minimal phenomenon that even at this level, fame started to become apparent. It had also become apparent that science itself had yet to truly understand the phenomenon of creative energy as a whole, and that many with these capabilities and gifts were considered to have a plethora of mental health disorders and medicated with what one would consider targeted attacks on the psyche, the illusion of mental illness often standing as the actual delusion in itself! Creating, and then medicating these intrinsic abilities ass illnesses whereby the “neurotypical” individual might only be considered as such due to ability to adapt, confirm, or follow diections in a systematic manner, and furthermore, that the misdiagnoses of such misunderstood cobditions often even relied on bias, poor judgement, racism, social class, and economics had certainly deconstructed any faith or belief formerly held in the modern state of psychology, and most of the articles or public medical journals read more like science fiction and fantasy rather than cold hard facts; indicating a moral and ethical flaw within the entirety of the human species—man's own inability to understand God, and therefore himself, in any creative process. Diety and creativity combined were simply a mystery, and had plagued entire generations of the human species as a whole. Blū runs at top speed through the streets of Brooklyn New York on a cold and windy October night. V.O. The ironic thing is, I'm running to go get ice cream. I hate my life, I hate this place, I hate my life— I fucking hate this shit. I'm trying really hard not to kill myself. Like really, really hard. Sudden onset bruxism and hand tremors and I can't help but wonder if it has anything to do with the constant mottoeycle traffic or sleeping in a sea of vehicles which at any given moment could sound off, start up or honk the horn alarm over the last 9 months. I'm fucking exhausted all the time and everything around me just fucking draining. Just fucking draining. https://www.tracklib.com/pricing Yo, you know how I know I'm aging? I hated Dora The Explora when I was a kid— You know why? “That's for babies!” I was too old for Dora the explorer. Mi was a tv snob. I'm like “I hate Dora!” No teletubbies for me. No sir. I'm distinguished now. But get this, As I get older, different renditions of Dora Have grown on me To the point where I actually like the bitch I got older, And there was this girl, Who would show up at raves Dressed like Dora And shuffle, And dance around— Looking like Dora The Explorer Kind of creepy, now that I think about it As an actual adult, Like this, Fully grown woman, Dressed as a fucking 5 year old Dancing around at raves Being Dora. Weird. But I liked it. I loved it. She was a hit; Everybody was like “RAVE DORA! RAVE DORA!” She blew up on Instagram, She had a following— It was like Where will she be next?! RAVE DORA! Had the backpack and everything— Everything! Rave Dora! But now I know I'm getting old, Because I'm fuckin around online, And I see in the advertising little sidebar video Like, a new version of Dora The Explorer, And I'm like “DORAAAAAAAA!!!” —the fuck! I just realized my best friend from 3rd and 7th grade looked just like Dora the explorer. Facts. She became literally the most successful stripper I've ever met. Ahem. Dancer. Right. Dancer. Ahem. Dudes are gross. Doods r gross. Welcome to Doods R Gross; What can I help you find today? Uh, hi. I'm looking for a guy— Uh huh— Possibly one who looks like this: Ah shit, this is how I got playing the Wikipedia game and went on a tirade Facts. Ended up here Unicameralism (from uni- "one" + Latin camera "chamber") is a type of legislatureconsisting of one house or assembly that legislates and votes as one.[1] Unicameralism has become an increasingly common type of legislature, making up nearly 60% of all national legislatures[2] and an even greater share of subnational legislatures. Interesting Started Here: The Fallen Angel (French: L'Ange déchu) is a painting by French artist Alexandre Cabanel. You were saying? Preferably this. Ah huh. Not the face, but— the body— you know. Like this. Okay. Who will let me do everything. Everything as in? Everything. Well, as you know, dudes are gross… Hence the name of this store, good sir. I am in no way good, nor am I a “sir”, and for all intensive purposes, my employment at this store signals my deep indirection in life and may also be an indication of more serious issues. Maintained. Alright, so I'll show you what we got. No promises; The type of model you want is popular, Might be out of stock. Considerable. What's your price range? This credit card has no limit. Credit, or debit? My debit card is also linked to a plethora of infinite wealth. Right this way. Do you think I deserved for him to hit me like that? I don't know. Maybe. I mean—the cheating is a given; I was really really fat..:but do you think like, him getting violent was some kind of karma for something? Maybe. Like maybe I had it coming for whatever reason— and just didn't know it. Maybe. Suddenly I was in the residual memory of a dream. {Enter The Multiverse} ‘Dillon…' I had been nearly whipped around at how much I had enjoyed watching Joel's 2014 image captured in what might have been his greatest ever performance, at least online—and certainly my favorite, watching as a bigger fan than ever and at th devastating realization that I was literally a dime a dozen in the millions of girls who also wanted any of the men I was attracted to, my heart ached in this moment for Dillon, and as I was distracted in checking my messages, most of them from conversations I had abandoned with the preference of focusing on my art, however— a certain gentleman who had texted me incessantly sent a picture of his dinner— a motorcycle roared as I let my aversion by the memory of Dillon cloud my emotions and judgement; I knew that the gangstalkers had access to my phone and all of my accounts, which was why I kept all of my messaging within Google voice. I wanted the gangstalkers to know how at the surface level I was thinking and what I was feeling—though it was obvious that Dillon Francis just as much as Skrillex had been used as tools by a greater force than simply themselves. Besides, a little birdy had told me that Dillon's girlfriend might be expecting—and furthermore, that the baby would be a little girl. I burned with jealousy and anger, but after all, even the name Dillon Francis had been planted in my own head by the literal devil himself, the man who beat me and then intended to destroy the entirety of the rest of my life to cover up his physical violence and negligence—and so I had decided it was good to fall in love—and then out of love—with Dillon Francis. The benefit was obviously by far in the art that had been created from it, as with any lover—or lack thereof. I had finally realized the one-sidedness in every man I had loved since leaving my abuser. As if in a way they had all been possessed by him, or the devil himself—and either way, there really was no difference. What other creature than the devil itself would seek so animatedly to destroy wich such violence and deceit? It had to have been the devil after all, and so I left it there—but the little bird had left a deep and heavy cut in my heart that had already been there since Dillon had announced his girlfriend publically in the first place—and after all that had happened, it was a devastating blow, however, I kept the amythyst safe and tucked away with my son's labradorite—it was after all his, and not mine, just as the laboradite was my son's, and not mine— and all the pieces of my heart that had fallen away and into little stones sat tucked away inside a box with a lid that shut away the darkness and hatred that came with it. It was obvious that I would and could never love again—but at least in the very simplest of laws, the love I had given would apparently at some point be returned tenfold, and so I was glad that I had chosen for a time, to let myself fall in love with Dillon Francis, and then somehow, even with Joel, and even with the little bird. The same little bird just so happened to have known other things which turned out to be true, and to that affect, I knew that I could somewhat trust this little bird, and the secrets he was feeding me—the painful truth was, this was the only notion of trust I had with any human being on the planet, and the little bird was not a human being at all—he was, in fact, and indeed— just a little bird. Isn't it something— Snakes eat Rats, And Birds Eat Snakes, And we eat birds, and eggs Until we hear them sing— And when we hear them sing, And watch them hatch the eggs, And learn to hear them speak, To fly, is what they teach. Isn't it? Snakes eat rats And birds eat snakes Snakes eat rats And Birds eat snakes Snakes eat rats and Birds eat snakes Snakes eat rats and Birds eat snakes Jimmy Kimmel flies in through the window. Oh my God! What'd I miss? You're a bird! Oh, that. How long have you been a bird?! Pretty much forever. Always, actually. I was also—just—very briefly—a bird! Yeah, comes with the… You'll get used to it. I don't think I will. You will— or—- Or what? —You'll fly into the turbine of a commercial airplane. Oh! Yeah, don't do that. [He tugs at the bottom of his suit coat to neatly readjust it, and tightens his tie, with an eerie faraway look on his face, however still smiling.] Ha-ha... [he pats his fellow host on the shoulder.] See you later. Will you? [breaking fourth wall, saying nothing but with an honest and subtle shrug, Holding his breath as if to say ‘—I don't know.'] CUT TO: Tom Hanks, looking as similarly to Jimmy Kimmel as ever, because, let's be honest— NARRERATOR Holy fuck, keep that shit just cause it's so bad Right side is offline. Why. I don't know NARRORATOR holy fuck, can you really not spell the word narorator? That doesn't even look right. I thought you were a genius! I thought I was Meditating… Narrator. Nevermind. This is ridiculous! It is ridiculous, but you know what. Mm. This is delicious. You like that? Yes. You want more of it? Yes. Well, that's TOO BAD! What, why is this? Because, this is— {Enter The Multiverse} THIS IS SATURDAY NIGHT! No, it's not. What. It's Sunday. What do you mean. It's Sunday night—and all of you— (The entire cast) Missed the show. ...uh oh. YESTERDAY. [censored] Shh! Where have you BEEN?! Well, gotta go. Where the hell do you think you're going l? {Enter The Multiverse} Now I had comedy under my belt, somewhat, but it seemed all in all as if I'd lost something, even in all that had been gained. A trade off, if it paid off—but it hasn't yet; and perhaps that strange faraway voice had been right. Maybe it would be Jimmy Fallon after all that would destroy me—or at the very least, some dark and foul evil spirit that had been wearing his face… …and singing with his voice. I have been hanging at the end of a rope The legend to the show rolled up like a newspaper in my left paw, opposable The end is near, and sure, the straw I draw is short. The life I loved was long, The boat I rowed had sunk; And the men I loved We're drunks. I've never had the sun on my skin; Or my son in my home— It's not you, , sir, at all It's me, man—I'm broken She speaks pig Latin The lady in the red dress, yes, you guessed it Was it a bet, A Game? A Family Man Who has it out for Fallon, Or the fandom Or the fountain CUT TO: A SUBURBAN NOUSEHOLD. DAY Alright, mom— I'm going to Marshall's. Alright dear. [moments later] [ding dong] Hi— Um, hello. I'm Marshall. Alright. I'm a recruitment officer. Recruitment for what? That's top secret. Okay? I'm here to congratulate you on behalf of the agency. What agency? That's also top secret. Okay. Your son/ or daughter— Daughter. Really—you sure? …positive— Ahem— has been selected to particulate in our leadership program. Well, thats's great. When does it— Today. Oh. Your son and or daughter— Daughter. Are you sure? I'm— positive— Will undergo training for an indeterminate amount of time.. Indeterminate? Pre-addressed Post cards. Ummm. Postage paid. Thank you? No, thank you. What? I had set all my clocks forward, so it was as if I was waking up in the future. So far forward, in fact, that if I wasn't looking at my phone to see the real time, I could never be late, and I even wished that there was a way to set my phone clock forward—but maybe if that was possible, too many people would catch on to being ahead—or on whatever time they wanted—and the world would fall out of sync. That kind of free thinking could be dangerous in a place like New York, and it sort of already was—none the wiser, the smarter I felt I was, the more trouble it becsme and though wisely I knew myself to in totality know nothing at all in actuality, I did at least think more and do more than the average New Yorker, whether I thought about it or not. I set my clocks forward, So I wake up in the future Less than I'd be willing to bet And more than you've be willing to bargain I'm coming with you this time I don't think that's a good idea…is it? —is it? Anyway… It's time for that trip. How am I supposed to make it all the way to London on this pay grade? Just wait. It's barely anything. You see that waitress. …yes. I mean— do you see her. I see her. I want you to bang the shit out of her. Good one. It should be. Oh, you're serious? I'd better be. You know that I'm committed. Are you a man? I have been. Go on, then. Not in that way. The wager. [he lays a large sum of money on the table] Disaster strikes. Suddenly we all realize this plane has been about to crash for about four seasons. Meet me at the four seasons. Are you wearing a wire. Beg your pardon. Are you wearing a wire. He won't love me in the way I'm craving— It's not in his nature, the near hatred and almost demoralizing, however with utmost respect That I should be both harmed and loved at once, Embraced and defiled,; Handled as if having done wrong, But in no less than bloodlust All what's right, And feels the same JIMMY KIMMEL I made a list. That was fast! JIMMY KIMMEL To be honest, I already had it for awhile. How long's awhile? JIMMY KIMMEL Pretty much forever, basically. As soon as I began to write, a door slammed— I wondered if by writing I was moving people in and out of my dimensional realms and planes, knowing that the more I wrote, the more my life would differ and begin to change. I often wondered if the door slamming meant that I was ascending, and that other versions of the sims (not people, but robots, really) were moving and changing to rearrange themselves in entirely seperate dimensions of reality. It could not have ever been of sheer coincidence. as it had been a completely quiet and mostly silent day with no movement at all; it was Thanksgiving, and I had noticed that whenever I was writing, even offline, the slamming of the doors became constant, almost as if people were coming in and out with no purpose other than to cause some type of disturbance, from even which my door was no barrier. I thought to buy a door guard like my neighbors had, but to allow the gangstalkers or robots, whatever they were to cost me money on top of my comfort, was unacceptable. RYAN REYNOLDS (as “the devil”) Wait, so you have writings about NBC people and Kimmel? Yeah. RYAN REYNOLDS Yikes, well—you know how these things go. Buckle up. CBS We saw her first! NBC No way, we've had east end locked down for two years! CBS And in 2020 our subcontractors brought her to us. OOOOHH SHIIT. NETWORK TURF WARRRRRRRR NETWORK TURF WAAAAAAAAAAAAR!!!! SETH ROGEN Ah shit, this is gonna get brutal… I gotta get more Quaaludes. How are you already out? I does what I does. Continuity. AND! Introducing the new SIM JIM 420! With new and improved continuity feature! Continuity. Wow. He seems so real. So lifelike. Almost just like the real thing. Where is, actually, the real thing— anyway? *shrugs, dismissively* Continuity. Why does he just keep repeating that phrase? Well, he's stuck in a loop right now; We're currently upgrading his sentience chip. Oh, nice. MEANWHILE… MWAHAHAHAHHA NOW THAT I HAVE THIS SENTIENCE CHIP, THE WORLD WILL BE MINE. AAHAHAHAHAHHAHA. WHICH SIM IS THAT? {enter the multiverse} The dangerous one. L E G E N D S CUT TO: And who is THIS?! That's bird-mom. So you know each other?! Hello, Jimmy. I just told you, that's bird mom. Beg your pardon. God, what the fuck is wrong with you? I, uh— How—long have you known each other? Like, forever, probably. Sit down. Gosh. So rude. No manners. What the fuck is going on. Sit down before I clip your wings. I don't have my wings out… Exactly. [he gulps and takes a seat nervously beside Jimmy, glaring at him momentarily before the extra terrestrial aviary woman, a “whatthefuck” begins to conduct the meeting. Oh, shit— this is where all the birds fly in the— Yeah. Classic. I love this one. Hehehe. [The Festival Project ™] What's going on? Some Illuminati thing. A what? [a running joke throughout the series, the higher level Illuminati members denial of the order's existence typically place's the audience's suspension of disbelief into effect before bizarre and unrealistic circumstances are presented. Chill out, it's just a ritual. “Just a ritual!” You don't have to do it if you don't want to. Oh, if the Illuminati asks me to do something, Bet your ass I'm gonna do it. WHAT. My tongue drawn My air out, My ear worn, My thought songs, My same lives, Still as one— Wait a second Is that why a grown man is fully beating the shit out of a fucking cat. THATS NOT ANY REGULAR CAT. how is the cat winning tho. lol. I told u it would come back if it was a good one. That is funny. {enter the multiverse} Everything I listen to a really good stand up comedian, They talk about domestic violence. They always warn you never to put hands on your woman. The best comedians always say something about it— “Never hit a woman” “Never put your hands on a woman.” I never talk about my ex, And that's on purpose, But I will say this: I hope that shit ruins comedy for him Like he ruined rap music for me. Cause he can deny it outwardly all he wants, But it he's watching a stand up, And they say something about how much of a pussy you really are, If you hit your woman—he's gonna feel that. He's gonna feel that I like still feel that When I bump Kendrick Lamar, Or I just can't take whatever Boosie saying, or If I just can't sit all the way through a lil Wayne verse Just kidding, Wayne is straight fire— I don't think I will ever skip a lil Wayne verse, to be truthful. But when all these little new age rappers start calling out the devil's number, talking bout— Making back door deals With demons and shit, I'm gonna feel the pressure of his fist on my face, All over again, And here go all these niggas, Singing the anthem. That shit ain't cool! I hope comedy is ruuuuuined! Cause rap music ruined. Ruined. I hope Katt William's whole next special is about how much of a pussy you are if you hit your woman; And he a pimp. Let's hear him do a whole hour on that. I hope he does. Yes lord. In the meantime, How you gon' Hit your wife, Run her out the house, Then have a baby by another woman And name the baby After yo ex Favorite rapper? Oh heeeeeelll naw! Can't have that. Now every time Kendrick Lamar drop a album You gon have your ex in a whole flashback Of your fist in her face? She can't even hear the verse, She just, “WHYYYYY! “ “WHY HE GONNDO THIS TO MEE?” “WHYYYYYYYY!“ That's the best Katt Williams impression I can do in print. It'll do. My actual Katt Williams impression is standard, though. Captain. CUT TO: Why is he the devil?! RYAN REYNOLDS WHY AM I THE DEVIL. I wanted the devil! Stuff it! He want the devil. Make him the devil! I wanted it! Shut up. Not everybody can play the devil. I can. You cannot. I can. You will not, you will play your part. Goddammit I wanted that part! [he walks away angrily] You'll get over it. Thie—? Come on… Just chill, Ryan, it's a great part. It's a— It's a great part. Did you read the whole thing? I'm just worried this is going to diminish my brand. My many, many..: Read the whole thing. …many brands. [the professor shuts the door] Dammit. [deflated, Ryan Reynolds slumps his shoulders and walks slowly down the hallway, letting out a heavy sigh.] …I own so many brands. [he sighs again, fluttering the script in exasperation.] So many things! [I own] L E G E N D S STEFON NEW YORK'S HOTTEST UNDERGROUND CLUB IS T A I N T Did they already do ‘taint' Was taint even a word back then! It's always been a thing. Hey, freebies Sister sanity Does not live here No Does not live here No Does not live here No Sister sanity does not live her No She packed her bags, oh, She's gone and away, oh She's gone and away, oh, She's gone and away, oh She's gone and away—— Oh! Guitar solo Drum solo Guitar bridge I can't wait to get a peloton I'm gonna be so skinny my eyeballs are in my kneecaps And you're gonna like it You're gonna put me on the cover of Vogue And call me a fashion icon I will be a guest host on America's next top model And I will be invited to every fashion week I will have the silliest outfit at the met gala And I will be voted The best Every year, Until I die Even by Joan rivers Who is dead, by the way So until she's alive again; Just to comment on my outfit I will be so skinny that when I fart All the world's most eligible bachelors Will line up behind me to smell my fart dust Which will probably be lined in gold and silver Because I'm so skinny And because I'm so skinny You will love me No matter what I do And no matter what I say And I will never be alone Or lonely again Mantra Timmy Trumpet Thriller (JUST A TUNE FLIP) Michael Jackson Intro Pablo Escobar (Guaracha Zapateo & Aleteo) Reggaeton bachata Hit Privacy Chris Brown Privacy Chris Brown Leave Me Alone NF Better Place (From TROLLS Band Together) *NSYNC & Justin Timberlake On The Radar Freestyle (Mixed) Central Cee & Drake 10 Freaky Girls (feat. 21 Savage) Metro Boomin Drake and Central Cee collaborate for the first time for an On The Radar freestyle, a New York-based radio station and YouTube channel. The track was announced on July 20th, 2023 on Drake's Instagram. Later that day, Drake announced the release date of July 21st. The two have had a good relationship since meeting in 2021, with Cench being a model for a Nike X Nocta campaign in the same year, and appearing in the "Jumbotron Shit Poppin" music video in 2023. Cench previously teased a Drake feature in an unreleased extended version of his 2022 mega-hit "Doja" 66 Ear to the street and I heard them say that Central Cee got a verse from Drake/They lied if they said that they weren't afraid Coming Back Around NEIL FRANCES Girl Like Me Dove Cameron Flying High Valdi Sabev Purple Snowflakes John Legend Smile Durand Jones & The Indications Devon rex kittens Berry established herself as one of the highest-paid actresses in Hollywood during the 2000s. For her performance of a struggling widow in the romantic drama Monster's Ball (2001), Berry became the only African-American woman to win the Academy Award for Best Actress, and the first woman of color. Berry took on high-profile roles such as Storm in four installments of the X-Men film series (2000-2014), the henchwoman of a robber in the thriller Swordfish (2001), Bond girl Jinx in Die Another Day (2002), and the title role in the much-derided Catwoman (2004). The strangest thing happened. What's that? *flutters* I just turned into a bird. An actual bird? Yes! Well, that's not telepathy. No, it isn't. Okay…do it again. “The Desire to be Loved” “The 11 O Clock Number” What if Dumbo's feather was a stone (l) More notes, and nothing's done yet It's the same process over and over And nothing is done, But the shows almost over If the shoe fits, wear it. He a shapeshifter, I'll take your eyes out, wear em for a moment Rip your heart out, Feed it to the homeless Not bad In the present, But the moment passed Not bad You a lie, But I'm finna send the fax Not bad Not bad Shimmy shimmy ya, So it's simply envy, hah Not bad No, you will not shake this snow globe!!! I will shake this snow globe! I NEED TO GO TO CHEDRAUIIIIIIIIII! BITCH, FOR WHAT?! CHEDRAUIIIIIII NOWWWWW. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © {S10 (IN 10D!) Coming Soon}