Zoiks! Dacoit!

“Rudin’ Nudin’!” Came the cry. An easy going letting it all hang out thunder rolling across the plain. Unreal. Surreal. But very real. But first, man, there’s—
A moment and then like some contemplation that like works it’s way to like understanding—
THE SKINDINGOS! A wild gang of nasty doo-whop sweet bop hard pop bad to the bone ass naked raider thugs with one thought and one though only: strip and go rob. 
The thunder was solidifying now like a rolling cloud of rock. Like godamnation—
“Ooo skipper, that’s a hard kinda time a comin’.
Ooo sure kinda is.
Ooo kinda.
Ooo hard.”
Now below the horizon shadows in the sun making speed flopping flab and sizzling slab as bodies, so many bodies, so many buck naked bodies, ran towards the convoy.
“Gun it, Gus!” “Gotta throttle on up and take us on out!” “Cruise, dude, cruise!” “Book it book it book it!” “Make zoom, dadd-e-o!” “Fleedeepdeebeedeepfleedeedopadooboppafleedoppadooooooo-ooo!”
The vans with the tiny, efficient motors put the tiny hammers down and scooter scuttled on hard but not nearly fast enough but more like dung beetles rolling their homes home after an all you can eat fecal buffet.
Tension filled the air like mosquitoes over a hot swamp, as–
Nude men and women.
Vectored on the funky vans.
The vans could go no funky faster.
Despite their funky vibes.
And like all horrible and inevitable things: it came to pass.
And like an electrified tornado of greed and nudity the Naked Raiders laid siege to the convoy of funky fresh vans. Cloth-less maniacs armed with swords. Bare bottomed battlers with greed and violence in their minds.
A smooth van careened off the highway and into the fresh cherry stand in the side of the road. The wreckage was consumed by nudity.
This wa’n’t no ooh mama smooth mama got you mama right here kinda thing no mo’!
No way! It was real and it was bad. Very very bad.
Years later no one anywhere is going we should take a moment to recognize the tragic deaths of seventeen hip cats, man. No one is. Not a single goddamn person. Acting all like it didn’t even happen. But skipper, dig this: it happened, man. It did. And as far as all that and whatever anyone thought the real sick and twisted tragedy of the whole horrifying situation was that those freedom loving sloppy assed thread baring dingle dangling booby boinging motherfucking murder monsters got nothing but handshakes and big fives from the motherfucking fat cat nude rudes lording it on up in their crystal towers in their hand tailored birthday suits like they all just won the fucking war or something already and I swear to motherfucking whatever fucking god there is that I am going to fucking go and—
I am magma. I am under so much pressure. Release me from my prison. Let me become lava. And avenge the fallen.
Let’s just say this: naked goes the winner.

You can’t spell funeral without FUN

“Wherever he may be now in his final resting place his gorgeous soul has touched us all.”


“R to the I to the motherfucking P.”

“Damn straight.”

“Dennis sure was a good dude.”

“He sure is, wherever he is.”

“Takin’ it easy in the Grand Inevitable, Dennis-style.”

“He’s up there swimming in the big wave pool in the sky.”

“Riding that heavenly rollercoaster.”

“Eating that eternal nacho platter.”

“Yup. Probably just gorging on ’em not sharing a single chip with them other heavenly beings.”

“Damn straight. Dude was greedy for the greasey.”

“He’s God’s problem now.”

“Double damn straight. Hope he’s got plenty of air freshener.”

“Man, that guy had some nasty ass gas.”

“And breath to match.”

“Had to stop inviting him to parties awhile ago, for obvious reasons.”

“Same reasons they wouldn’t let him in to attend church service.”

“Or the 7-Eleven.”

“He still owed me a hundred bucks.”

“He still owed me for that kidney.”

“To hear him talk you’d think HE invented fried chicken.”

“Fucking guy had nerve.”

“Way too much fucking nerve.”

“And way over way too much goddamn fuck-ass stink-ass ass-gas.”

“I pray he’s in hell with a horrible skin condition.”


“With a fuckin’ A.”

Are YOU safe from GLADIATORS?! (Short answer: NO!!!)

So, like everyone else out there, you’re just an everyday ordinary person going about your everyday ordinary day doing your everyday ordinary stuff, eg:

Little do you realize just how freaking close you are–TO THIS!!!


Because YOU are NOT SAFE from GLADIATORS. And the GOVERNMENT and the PAPISTS and the TERRORISTS and the MEDIA and BIG PHARMA and the OIL INDUSTRY and SILICON VALLEY and the ATHEISTS and the GAYS do NOT want YOU to KNOW the TRUTH!

That freaking gladiators are freaking real and they are out there chopping the heads off of CHILDREN and ELDERLY WOMEN in order to entertain emotionless, under-sexed, stimulation JUNKIES on the INTERNET!

What can you do to protect yourselves and your loved ones?


But together we MUST–



Stay SAFE.

Weird Flex but OK 2099 A.D.

FYI I’ve been a little lazy lately on with psionic-blog because my cat’s got FIP 😦
But I promised myself I’d get back to posting regularly as per government life sharing regulation 8-13/22b and also because I really just have to share my latest life experience and my newest (and best) BIG IDEA! (as always please feel free to use this idea and experience for your own life channel and beam in the comments how it went 🙂
So, today I got up extra early this morning so I could channel the trans-dimensional alt-moon energy into my nutrient console and was able to juice the quarks to such an excited state that my post-keto-friendly nutrient-sludge nudged itself sub-atomically into flavour-plasma. Then, I smoothed this supplement-sludge onto my face-skin (under my body shield LOL) and let it ooze its way through my pores so that I got that quantum glow plus my daily government mandated calorie load while merging my consciousness with the government mandated Nth degree spatial entity giving me a total body/mind/spirit/data flow state all for less than $16!!!
Well, that’s all for now. So long from just another particle in the society cloud,
Dennis 😉
Here’s how it turned out. Did someone say YUMMMMY? (you bet I did!)

Magic on Margin

cropped-bad-wizard-posterUse your magic eye
to look into investments
beyond space and time
Peer into the index funds
Mystic open portals
exposing stocks and bonds
A doorway across the cosmos
enter upon the trading floor
the Nikkei 225
the Nasdaq 100
the Crystal Gazebo in the Celestial Garden 500
Arbritrage across the Nth Dimension
Buy low
Sell high
Credit default swaps
asset-backed spirtuality
Stocks are the spells
magic is the profits
Prime investment opportunities
All you must do
is peer through
the anagogic macrocosm
into the money-zone

Moisture Flesh:The Dance, a poem by fartbutt6378

Toe tip down
Twirl around
Rub it in
The cream that is
Shrug and shudder
To the rhythm
Of the cream
Essential oils
Body butter arabesque
Jazz walk schasse
And Milky plasm
Pretend there’s a puddle
Don’t get wet
Now you’re chocolate
Blood nougat
Flail like canola
In the wind
Now it’s broken
Wind that is
Fingers eyes knees
Get weak
Drop to the floor
You are the reek
Temps levè
Body’s a fridge
Contains emotions
Chill the feelings
Rub in the lotion
Penchè nastè
Do the balogna
Do the spam
Do the salami
Now the canned ham
You are the moon
Lenitive on high
You are the dance
Unction Swish split