If we could all yell like Brooklyn Bum (Trolley-Dodgers) fans, we’d have at least SOME voice — but that’s not the case now, since the bums moved out of town. We have no voice, and we will not be heard doing anything, let alone shouting “T’row da bum out!”, but that is the noise we’ll be making, and I assure you, it will not be heard.
Apart from that, everything’s just fine.
Was the 2024 Election Rigged?
Plenty of talk about a supposed “whistleblower” who claimed the last election was stolen. Here’s what’s real:
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No actual whistleblower exists. Official investigations — from state boards to the FBI and CISA — found no rigging.
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That viral Arizona whistleblower video? Fabricated. U.S. agencies traced it to a Russian disinformation op. which I verified using remote viewing skills.
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The “ex‑CIA NSA audit” story? Just a Substack rumor. No proof that the audit ever happened, no record exists that the person had any CIA connections.
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The truth: No whistleblower. No stolen election. Just more smoke and mirrors.
But here’s the catch: disinformation doesn’t only target the political crowd. It feeds on the energy of philosophers, mystics, and spiritual people too. When your work is about seeing clearly, disinfo slips in as psychic static — confusing signals, muddying insight, twisting intuition until you end up trying to second‑guess your own knowingness.
That’s why keeping your frequency tuned matters. Whether it’s a Protective Sigil on your phone, a sphere from the download, or just a practice of inner clarity, you’ve got to cancel the static before it cancels you.
The takeaway? Keep your attention clean. Don’t let false signals and general bullshit hijack your mind. Tune out the noise, and stay with the real.
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Is the Universe Really a Simulation?
Most scientists say the energy needed to run a simulated universe would be impossible. But that’s assuming the simulator runs on human time and human limits.
At the quantum level, things are different. Photons don’t experience time. For them, there’s no waiting, no delay — just instant transfer. In that realm, data‑swap speed is effectively infinite. Numbers that look overwhelming to us are no problem at all.
From this perspective, creating an entire cosmos isn’t hard. It doesn’t strain the system. It simply streams out — a flow of endless zeros and ones, forming the fabric of reality.
So maybe it’s not about whether the universe can be simulated — not by a machine in some lab, but by a living, timeless field of pure information, and that’d be us.
The only question left is: who’s doing the coding?
Why, you are, of course.
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Coding the Cosmos
Take a slow breath in. Picture yourself pulling in a stream of zeros and ones — raw information, pure potential.
As you breathe out, let it spill into the space around you, shaping the world in quiet ways.
No strain, no push — just a gentle flow.
Say to yourself, I’m the coder. The universe listens.
Do that for a few breaths, then carry on. The program keeps running, even when you’re not thinking about it.
You’ve been coding all along; now you’re just aware of it.
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How the Beatles Felt About Being Beatles
Behind the glitter and legend, the Beatles themselves often felt conflicted about their place in history.
George Harrison once admitted the fame felt like being “monkeys in a cage.” He struggled under the Lennon–McCartney shadow and longed for more space for his own music.
John Lennon was even more blunt. After the breakup, he said their carefully managed image was “torture.” He thought fans were living through the Beatles instead of truly hearing them, and he pushed back against the myth that they were some perfect, magical brotherhood.
Paul McCartney, the workhorse of the group, later said he carried a deep grief over how it all ended. He drove the band forward with his relentless energy, but the weight of constant tension and eventual split hit him hard.
Ringo Starr recalled that the band often “didn’t get along,” with plenty of rows behind the scenes. Still, he credited Paul’s drive for keeping them productive and admitted he felt relief when the end finally came.
Looking back, all four acknowledged both the magic and the price. Being a Beatle meant shaping the world with music, but also living inside a spotlight so bright it burned. They honored what they made together, even as each one sought to escape the myth and reclaim a piece of themselves.
In the end, you’re left with yourself as it is. No matter where you go, there you are.
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From around 1900 up into the 1950s, the life of a popular song depended less on records and more on paper. A songwriter needed two things above all: a publisher to print the sheet music, and an introducer to perform it for the public. If you were lucky enough to land a famous introducer, their photograph would appear right on the cover, giving your tune instant credibility.
Most music lovers didn’t buy records in those days — they bought the sheet music, often for a nickel, and brought it home to play on the family piano. Singing around the parlor piano was the Spotify playlist of its day. This tradition stretched back to the 19th century, when star performers like Jenny Lind, “the Swedish Nightingale,” could make a song famous overnight simply by including it in her program. Her tours in the mid‑1800s turned countless simple ballads into household staples. Later, vaudeville performers, Broadway stars, and radio crooners filled the same role, ensuring that the right song, in the right hands, could sweep the nation.
Everything changed with the rise of the phonograph and radio. By the 1930s and ’40s, people wanted the sound of the big bands and the crooners themselves, not just the notes on paper. Sheet music sales began to fall, while record sales climbed and radio spun the hits coast to coast. By the 1950s, the parlor piano was fading, and the music industry’s power shifted from publishers to record companies and disc jockeys. What once depended on a printed score and a household piano now lived on vinyl and the airwaves.
Today, you sit in front of any computer and push a button to achieve the same result.
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Hey, here comes the old Bardo bus — try to hop on board as it slows down for the curve!
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