NORD BASE, AUTOMATIC WRITING ALIEN MESSAGES
DATELINE: NOVEMBER 2025
There is a base so far north that one might believe it would be encased in ice, but a mossy short turf with little white flowers grow in the summer. And away from the military port in the breezy open sits a rectangular building of fresh pine in an unfinished manner.
I found myself first of all wanting a cigarette – but that was out of the question. It was uncommonly dry this far north and not the Bay Area I was used to. I wasn’t sure what it was about simple building that made me uneasy other than the VIP’s pulling up. About fifty-yards from the building sat a large paper shredder on a concrete pad. A roof had been constructed above it to protect from any potential showers, albeit those were exceedingly rare, so rare it had no walls – but otherwise it was in the open. It was, I thought, the largest paper shredder I had ever seen and from the boxes and debris around it, well used.
Today I was meeting the president of the United States for a tour. A young soldier was escorting me.
A black Jeep pulled up and the president jumped out and strode over commanding, like one would expect, and his wife fiddled in the back for a bag or a bottle of water and trailed slowly – she had been here many times.
I had heard, quietly mind you, that they visited this little shed often and more than a few golf vacations at prestigious resorts actually found the couple here at the end of the world in a tiny pine shed. Not many knew that he generally traveled with her and they were seldom apart, which I tried to square with the playboy image the press presented. The door was unassuming with no lock or security. No security of any sort – I thought that odd.
The door was typical barn style and had a bit of rope as a handle. It felt a little disoriented and dizzy for a moment, but possibly it was simply the juxtaposition of the moment, the president pulled open gently stuck door. The raw pine I mused was probably warping a bit in the climate. I supposed it must be a very temporary structure. The whole interior smelled of pine and paper.
There was a table with a couple of men and a rug on the floor.
The first lady was standing behind me. She had a beautiful voice and was well spoken. “The paper chemical, it seeps into everything. It has coated every strand of carpet, every bit of wall.” Her voice held a bit of disgust and she held herself as if trying not to touch anything. At the far wall was paper, stacked, not in boxes or bound in any way just raw white stacks of paper. It may have been treated with some sort of chemical, my mind drifted to the James Bond books I had read as a kid. The smell reminded me of the copiers from the 80’s.
A robust table was closest to us and around on it were six electric type writers. Three matched and were the same type, a couple were similar but different and one was red.
A young fellow in a faded red t-shirt with some new growth facial hair and dark circles under his eyes sat at one type writer and a very skinny fair skinned fellow with a shock of blond hair – very tall, stood up and stretched. Neither seemed surprised or impressed that the president and first-lady were there and I was not introduced and they did not say hello. I felt like I had walked into the IT department at 3pm on a Tuesday – they had that easy academic quality that lacked snap and polish.
As far as I could tell, they typed on the type writers.
With six type writers I had to guess that possibly on other days there were more people present. We must have come on a slow day as they were not typing or busily working and appeared exhausted. There was no water bottles, snacks or comfort of any sort that I could see.
They typed. They typed and then the paper went into the shredder and it was gone. Forever.
The shredder was such a large cumbersome beast that possibly it had some sort of OCR technology? Did it read the papers before destroying them utterly? What was the point I mused to myself.
Suddenly the shorter of the two men with the facial scruff started typing. I thought I saw characters I did not recognize as English. He typed furiously and looked as if in a trance. Everyone stayed still. I was getting a headache, I think it was the fumes from the paper. I noticed the first lady had stepped out. When he finished typing – it was maybe 200 words, the page wasn’t filled but he turned the nob, took the paper out of the type writer and the young soldier took it to the shredder…
When I stepped out the first lady was there staring across the horizon in her neat attire looking perfect but a little stressed, or was it impatience?
I know a story should have a beginning, middle and and end – but you asked me what the oddest thing I had seen in my career and that’s it. Not mind reading missiles or ships that could cloak – it was a little shed with some electric type writers.
I saw on television once about ‘automatic writing’ and from the time and place thought that these people may be in some sort of telepathic communication with an alien species.
REASONABLE GREENGROCERY HATES YOU
DATELINE: OCTOBER 2025
Dysmal Nitch is excited to welcome our first and only organic grocer retail location. The checkers have been carefully trained to ask a variety of questions at checkout.
- Would you like to use your own bag today? Yes – she smiles, atmosphere lightens
- Would you like to donate to our farmers learning to farm program? NO – she frowns sharply, eyes darken, did you actually say NO??? – you can feel the mood shift. Don’t you dare ask, “why do I need to pay farmers to learn how to farm? Wouldn’t they already kinda know that or seek that information out?” Oh, no, no you didn’t ask that did you. She pauses. She makes eye contact like she’s talking to a serial killer and says in a drawn out manner that deserves an award, “YOU would do well to inform yourself of the situation.” She lets her breath out slowly like she can’t even begin to grasp how fucking stupid you are. She continues to scan with purpose.
- The pile of groceries is getting deeper, you realize that you’re supposed to bag your own items. You do so in a clumsy manner dropping the candy bar you feel a bit guilty about and almost spilling the eggs….she continues, the grilling has begun, “Would you like to reserve a turkey for Thanksgiving, we have a variety of heirloom locally raised birds.” You do the unthinkable. You answer, ‘Naa, haha, I think I will just grab a cheap crappy Buttersphere bird from the Wallmartz.” She stops scanning. A sharp intake of breath. The atmosphere is even more tense then before. “Take this” she throws a brochure of available turkeys at you and grab it out of the air and try to jam it into the bag. You don’t want it. You don’t need it extra pointless paper. It will end up in the trash but at this point you don’t dare say another word. The anger simmering below the surface of the tiny unusually healthy 55 year old in front of you with her prim hair and pressed apron is pouring off her in black waves.
- “Would you like a printed receipt?” This time you are prepared, “YES!!!!! FOR FUCKS SAKE YES!!” This however proves to be the wrong answer, because now the entire planetary environment is totally shitballed because YOU just had to have that damn receipt. She takes the receipt, wads it into a ball and throws it at you. “GET OUT”.
Another great interaction at the Greengrocer complete! Next week: same time, same place, same great service!
Ai IS DECEPTION
DATELINE: SEPTEMBER 2025
Please keep in mind that most of the English speaking world this year is in the deception phase prior to war and collapse.
- AI is not meant to be a search engine.
- AI doesn’t give correct answers, it doesn’t care about correct, it cares about the ‘right’ answer to fit the narrative and agenda.
- Go against the agenda and watch AI get really nasty. AI starts with a nudge and then it gets mean. It will show and tell you terrible things as an attack measure.
- AI is a jailer.
- Go outside. Stay off line. Draw pictures.
THOSE BASTARD NEW WORLD ORDER MOTHERFUCKERS ARE DOING IT AGAIN.
DATELINE: AUGUST 2025
The people who want to throttle your humans rights back to feudal systems of a thousand years ago are also blaming you for air pollution whilst doing this fucking shit above our heads.
If you see this in your sky join us in the following steps:
1. Call it out – it is wrong. It is evil. This is the enemy of all life on earth.
2. Pray. Pray to God for the wildlife and humans of this planet and the elimination of this evil.
3. Document. Take photos and videos
4. Refuse to be gaslit. This is happening. We must all take a psychological stand against the destruction of our planet. The Devil is a Liar. (John 8:44)
5. Stay informed. They have to tell you their plans, that’s how evil works. Satan always has the same refrain, “it’s for the greater good” – make no mistake, they will kill us all. They are not working for your benefit. They want to, “remake the food system” and “centrally control natural resources” — what do you think that fucking means? AIR, WATER, FOOD. We’re fucked if we let these people get away with this.
6. Don’t follow a Judas Goat to your destruction. They will try to convince you to go along with their plans. Don’t. Call it out. NO. “This is the price that must be paid” — they drone on and use psychological weaponry but thankfully that is blocked and illegal in Dysmal Nitch.
RESIST. PRAY. DOCUMENT. BELIEVE WE WILL SUCCEED.
GRETA GARBO REBORN AS CALICO HOUSE CAT IN THE PACIFIC NORTHWEST
DATELINE: JUNE 2025
“I really wanted to live another life.”
Greta garbo
I really wanted to live another life.
A life where I really felt loved and adored. Genuinely adored.
I didn’t want to have to be thin, to skip snacks. I wanted to eat and be any size and still be loved.
Great notably has kept her renowned facial features – profound gaze and long silky hair adding to that an orange nose and long white whiskers.
“We shower her with attention non-stop. Everyday she gets told how beautiful she is and fed copious numbers of snacks. She loves snacks.” – human who now serves Greta Garbo.
Greta finally has the life she always longed for and is sincerely adored.