This is the chilling story of an alternate Trump reality where, after catching the Covid-19 virus, Trump enters a fever dream that includes us all on an alternate timeline. A work in progress.
Normally, I’d not share a story with fans while it’s still in development. But then again — the past 14 months of Covid and the insanity we are witnessing from the GOP going all-in on reinstalling Trump as ostensibly our new King, four months post insurrection — has caused me to feel extremely mortal.
My work is a long way from being a movie, or even coherent at this point. But what fever dream is? Just for kicks, here’s a very preliminary trailer, made from a stock Apple template, to give you an early as fuck sneak peak at my vision of Trumpian reality, even more terrifying and darkly comedic than our own, occurring Meanwhile, one timeline away…
As bleak as things look in May of 2021, when I am writing this overview, where the Big Lie continues to fester like a wound that just won’t heal, it’s my fondest belief that one day we’ll all look back on this chapter of our collective misery and share some laughs, along with tears of relief, that we awoke to a better tomorrow.
I first began writing this, as I like to call it, Ultimate Cautionary Tale, as therapy before we knew Trump would lose the presidency. Today, I write to demonstrate why we must never let Trump back in power and why the GOP must be voted out of office all the way down to city dog catcher.
Before you get started, my handy disclaimer that TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM, where Trump’s harebrained insurrection succeeds, is of course a work of pure fiction about an alternate universe. It is in no way a true reflection of the kind and compassionate real-life Donald J Trump, and his charming GOP enablers or, for that matter, the supposed good guys in this dark comedic tale.
Use the TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM pull down menu top to the page to read all 11 chapters and counting. Subscribe to get updated audios I am adding to all chapters, when I can steal the time. Subscribing will also get you new chapters in the works. Chapter 12 coming soon as I can find the time.
Audio score done with Storyblock.com loops I’ve licensed for my worldwide use. Apologies in advance for the scratch track voice acting.
Love your feedback. None of this is set in stone at this stage. Please vote blue until the GOP either ousts Trump and returns to sanity or disappears all together. Enjoy.
Meanwhile, when we last visited the alternate Trump universe, one timeline away… Trump’s harebrained insurrection succeeded in a wonky as hell overthrow of the rightful US government.
A gruesome house to house battle, dubbed The Blue Civil War, erupted to put the rightful President, Joe Biden, into the Oval office. And has so far cost 396,423 American lives.
Furious his son Don Jr. perished in the opening minutes of the Battle for George Floydland (formerly known as Kenosha), Trump has done the unthinkable — even for him — and ordered a strategic bomber to drop a North Korean tactical nuke, gifted by Kim Jung-un, on the Blue state of Wisconsin.
We now join…
TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM – Chapter 11 – TO NUKE OR NOT TO NUKE KENOSHA THAT IS THE QUESTION
A strategic bomber glides the starry skies over Lake Michigan beneath the full moon. In the bomber cockpit a heated argument rages between the pilot and co-Pilot.
“Orders are orders!” shouts the pilot.
“Not when the fucking order is to nuke a city on American soil for a delusional illegitimate president!” bellows the co-pilot.
Pilot and co-pilot reach for their pistols. BANG! Both shot through the forehead, the dead pilots slump over the bomber’s blood splattered controls. The bomber nose dives into Lake Michigan and sinks for the murky depths.
The desperate bomber crew wrestle to open escape hatches as the cabin rapidly fills with water.
Water flows from an ornate sink tap. Trump brushes his teeth, drowsily gazing at himself in the Presidential bathroom mirror. Trump almost jumps out of his orange skin when his reflection stops brushing and says, “Stop your compulsive brushing and listen up.”
“Not listening! La-la-la! Can’t hear you!” says Trump as angrily brushes his teeth, bleeding gums and all.
Trump’s body man Robert calls out from the bedroom where he is turning down the bed for Trump, “Everything OK, sir?”
“Peachy,” grouses Trump sticking his tongue out at his pissed off reflection and resumes brushing.
“Everything is definitely not ‘peachy’. You fucking ordered a nuclear strike on American soil!” says Trump’s reflection.
“Relax. The bomber sunk off the coast of Milwaukee. Zero casualties.”
“What about the bomber crew?” says the Trump reflection. As he waves his arms the bathroom in the reflection becomes an opulent Mar A Lago bathroom. “Here in my reality, where I bravely called off the insurrection to regroup and keep donations rolling, you’re making me glad about my peaceful strategy. You’re a moron!”
“Who you calling a moron, Moron? Your aborted insurrection was a way, way bigger dud than my sunken bomber.”
Robert finally pokes his smiling Black face into the bathroom, “Damed Adderall’s making you talk to yourself again, sir. Gotta listen –“
Trump yanks Robert into the bathroom and shouts as points to the mirror, “Look! Look with your big Black eyes! See him! There! There’s the pathetic loser Trump from another universe who got his fat ass thrown out of the White House!”
Trump’s reflection laughs spitefully, but all Robert sees or hears in the mirror is himself and the manic Trump beside him. Robert hoarsely whispers, “God blessed the USA tonight when that bomber crashed into Lake Michigan.”
Ignoring Robert, Trump spins hearing Blue State President Biden’s voice coming from the bedroom TV flat screen and he shoves his way past his befuddled body man.
“My fellow Americans, the illegitimate ruler of the Red States, dubbed Trumptopia by the mad king himself, Donald J. Trump launched a nuclear strike on George Floydland, formerly known as Kenosha Wisconsin, tonight. Fortunately, through divine providence, the stealth bomber carrying the nuke crashed 15 miles off the coast of Milwaukee before delivering its North Korean supplied dirty bomb,” says the fuming Biden.
“Dirty bomb? How dare he!” says Trump to the emotionless Robert. “Kim’s beauty was a Neutron bomb that only kills people. All the real estate would have been left intact.”
Robert mutes Biden and slowly twists to Trump,saying loudly, “‘Only ‘kills people’? You mean like my brother and my whole family who live in Kenosha?”
“George Floydland. Uh, Kenosha is now called Geroge Floydland. Why’d you people name it like that, Robert?” says Trump patiently waiting for an answer.
“No idea and I frankly I don’t give a fuck, sir. Lemme ask you a question. You mind, sir?” says Robert.
“Seems like no matter what I say you’re gonna. Knock yourself out,” says Trump tugging on a fluffy red robe.
“Did you actually believe that shit in your speech tonight, about that nuke, might be able to end the civil war quicker? Or was that something you just made up, just doing your thing?”
“Thing?” puzzles Trump.
“The thing you love to do. You know, lying about shit so hard you can smell it,” says Robert quivering with rage.
“Don’t get smart with me. That is unless you want to be the first nigger lynched on the White House lawn.”
Robert pulls Trump’s gold plated .45 from from under Trump’s heavily embroidered pillow, “Fuck this! I am so done actin’ the house nigger with you, you faded frat boy!”
“A joke. I was joking, Robert!”
“A joke about lynchin’. Ha fucking ha. Now get on the fucking floor and get your tiny hands behind your thick skull,” says Robert, ignoring the pounding at the door and shouting of Trumptopia Troopers.
“Whoa, Robert. I know things have been a little tough on your people in the Blue States, but that’s no call to go all Samuel Jackson on me with the potty mouth routine,” says Trump using all his charm as he awkwardly lays face down on the floor.
“Huh. “Little tough’ on my people, motherfucker? 93 fucking percent of the casualties of the Blue — ain’t nothin’ civil about this motherfucking Civil War — are fucking Black. What a Goddamn shit show on both sides. I mean fuck Joe Biden up the ass too for his “Who’s the best Whitey War” while 3 times more of my people are still dying of the goddamn Covid than you white devils!”
“I don’t know where to go with that. I can barely understand you talking all jivey and shit all of sudden. Where’s my sweet Black pal?”
“Pal? A pal does not change your damn diaper. A pal does not have his brother’s family living in Kenosha threatened with a –” says Robert, annoyed to be cut off by Trump.
“George Floydland. Uh, Kenosha is now called George Floydland. Why’d you people rename it like that, Robert?” says Trump patiently waiting for an answer.
“You are so fucking losing it, Donnie boy. Asked me that dumb ass question two minutes ago,” says Robert tying Trump’s hands with the cords off the curtains.
“Careful with the curtains, they’re a gift from Putin. Come on. Tell me why Kenosha changed it’s name to George Floydland.”
“How the fuck should I know why the people of Kenosha, site of the first Red states attack in the USA that killed almost every Black person in mother fucking Kenosha, except my brother Freddie and his eight kids, all nephews, while Biden was busy in France –”
Trump tries to turn over and Robert pistol whips him, “Stay rock-still motherfucker! Now where was I?”
Breathing laboriously, Trump manages to say, “Outta your mind. My men will break down that door and shoot you, unless I make this… O-O-O-OK.”
Robert grins that Trump is having trouble breathing on the hardwood floor. “Perhaps, Mr. White Racist President, as you ain’t breathin’ so good layin’ on your big old belly, like George Floyd did — minus two cops layin’ on his back and one mother fuckin’ Chauvin perched on his neck — might help you to understand how it felt when your Nazi shock troops unleashed nerve gas on my Kenosha people and took their damn breath away.”
“That was General Bannon! Donald Trump had nothing to do with the gassing of innocent Blacks in Kenosha.”
“Don’t ya mean, George Floydland, Mr. Real President?” says Robert putting his knee to Trump’s neck.
“Sorry! Sorry, Robert! Don’t do this!” gasps Trump.
“Do what?” chuckles Robert.
Trump barely gets the words out, “Choke… me… out… like… Floyd.”
The sound of an axe hacking away at the secure door makes it hard to hear either man, so Robert raises his voice, “I ain’t choking you out, bro! Just helping you understand that maybe your Trumptopia Red troops asphyxiating 3,210 Black people in Kenosha coulda, you know, inspired the city council of mostly White crackers to rename Kenosha George Floydland.”
“Why would the hell would they do that?’ says Trump, his face starting to turn blue from Robert’s knee on his neck.
“Fuck you, Trump. Ya’all’s stallin’ ‘while your white boys knock that door in, ain’t ya? Get up, fatso!” shouts Robert yanking Trump to his feet just as the reinforced door bursts open. An elite swat team of three beefy rednecks bursts through the shattered door into Trump’s White House bedroom.
The blonde haired blue eyed Swat Team leader tries to take aim on Robert, but Trump is squarely in the way, so he shouts, “Release Real President Trump! Do it now. Do it now, nigger!”
“Chill the fuck out, Fritz Von Swat Leader. Drop all your God damn weapons or this old as fuck frat boy here gets it.”
The swat team look at each other in confusion.
“NOW, YOU PALE-ASSED MOTHERFUCKERS!” barks Robert, jamming the gold plated .45 into Trump’s mop of orange hair.
“Do what he says! Do what he says!” barks Trump. The Swat team all reluctantly drop their weapons.
Robert cracks a victorious smile and calmly says, “Nice work, boys. Now pay real good attention to what ya’all gotta do next.”
Half an hour later Robert, Trump in tow, exits the White House onto the smoke choked front lawn. They cross the White House lawn for the waiting Marine One chopper. Robert tosses Trump aboard and gives a bow to the pissed off swat team.
“Fuck!” shouts the swat team leader who watches helplessly along with dozens of soldiers as the chopper lifts off into the DC night sky… and EXPLODES
Sirens blare as the fiery twisted wreckage Marine One crashes into the Washington Monument.
Meanwhile 200 feet below the surface of Lake Michigan, amidst the floating bodies of the dead strategic bomber crew, a 24 hour countdown clocks lights up on the North Korean nuke.
TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 12OF TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM
As always my handy disclaimer that this story is of course a work of pure fiction about an alternate universe. It is in no way a true reflection of the kind and compassionate real-life Donald J Trump, and his charming GOP enablers or for that matter the supposed good guys in this dark comedic tale.
Make a donation to help me keep bring you more chapters. Thanks.
Meanwhile, when we last visited the alternate Trump universe, one timeline away… Trump’s harebrained insurrection succeeded in a wonky as hell overthrow of the rightful US government. This sadly happened through the sheer blind luck of Pelosi and Pence both taking wrong turns on the run on January 6th, ending in both being taken hostage by the rag tag white supremacist led insurrectionists.
A gruesome house to house battle, dubbed The Blue Civil War, erupted to put the rightful President Biden into the Oval office, has so far cost 256,234 American lives.
Looking to raise quick cash for a boost in the polls to bless his proposed launch tactical nukes on Blue states, Trump enlists the help of a Marjorie Taylor Greene for crowd funder to raise $5 billion to knock out her mythical Jewish space laser. We now join…
TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM – CHAPTER 10 – A BITTER CHEESE
Trump shows General Greene, the new Speaker of the House, to the paneled door of the oval office saying, “Much as I love you, Margie, I don’t want to see your face again until you have the $5 billion!” Before Green can complain, Trump slams the door in her face.
Nestled in the blue yellow sofa, My Pillow Guy, Mike Lindell, the newly minted Secretary of Defense and Pillow Production Czar, reports to Trump on progress in Blue Civil War. He speaks fast, like he’s ripping off a band-aid, “Sadly, we’ve lost Illinois to the Sleepy Joe forces, sir.”
“What about Wisconsin?” demands Trump.
“The Battle of George Floydland was — ”
“George Floydland?!” shouts Trump.
“F.K.A. Kenosha Wisconsin, sir,” nervously answers Secretary Lindell. “Confusing, I know, because Minnesota is where Floyd was –“
“Do I look confused?” says Trump getting up in Lindell’s dumb as dirt puss.
“Of course not, sir!”
“I know where that counterfeit passing snake Floyd was choked out! Spades wanna name part of Wisconsin after a dead loser Minnesotan that’s their fucking funeral. Bigger question: How did that useless cheese head Johnson blow the 2-1 military advantage I gave him?” says Trump firmly pushing the button on his resolute desk to call for a Diet Coke.
“You’re in luck , sir! My film team from ABSOLUTE PROOF has whipped up a new doc about it and it’s already up on Trump TV!” says Lindell, doing a little victory dance.
Robert, Trump’s Black body servant, enters at a run, delivers Trump’s Diet Coke. Robert avoids making any eye contact with the hand waving Lindell.
“You put a fucking documentary about my brave Trumptopia troops losing to Obama on my TV station without my OK?” barks Trump.
Robert stumbles as he quickly exits to avoid Trump tantrum fallout.
Lindell fumbles with the big screen remote. He nervously says, “Sir, ahem, CNN and MSNBC have their version of the story coming out on the Battle of George Floydland premiering tonight. I had to move fast so that you’re the first one to tell the story. You know to slant it your way, of course. Ha ha. Knew you’d OK that since you are the genius chosen one after all!”
“Secretary Lindell… I saw on Fox News that you were broke and homeless. So how’d you afford making a movie with a 24 hour time –”
“Look, Donnie boy, I know you still watch Fox, because you’re personally keeping an eye on the enemy. But that junk will rot your –“
“Fair warning, I don’t like this rushed as fuck doc you’re with Pelosi, executed on Trump TV LIVE tomorrow at dawn!” barks Trump, cleaning a speck of lint off his banana Republic uniform.
Wiping sweat from his brow Lindell hits play and he says, “Narrated it myself.”
“Shut the fuck up and let me watch!” grouses Trump, already annoyed by the opening title.
A Bitter Cheese – Defeat in George Floydland (F.K.A. Kenosha, Wisconsin)
Documentary style footage plays as Lindell ham-narrates:
House to house combat raged for weeks in America’s dairy state. Troops led by former president Barrack Obama are on the march south from the Biden won city of Milwaukee.
Trumptopia’s Supreme Commander, aside from President Trump, Don Jr., confers beneath the fire scorched Kenosha Brat Stop sign with General/Senator Johnson, who for some dumb reason demands both titles as General Senator — Seriously, if this titty bar loving cheese dick slept better he’d have had a much clearer head for the battle he was about to lose for our heroic leader Donald the Chosen One Trump, all powerful President of Trumptopia FKA the USA.
For a dreamy night’s sleep visit MyPillowGuy.com!
“Fuck’s sake! Is this an My Pillow infomercial or God damn news story?” comments Trump imperiously.
Lindell hits pause. “Sir, we’ll edit my little pillow plug out ASAP. Let’s go on, sir. There’s some things in here you’re going to want to see firsthand,” Lindell quickly hits play again.
Lindell’s narration continues: And so, because many in the US Armed Forces are sitting out the Blue Civil War out, the hand to hand civilian combat showdown of the 21st century was at hand.
Lindell hits “pause” on the remote and says proudly, “Like the poetic thing I did with the hands? Classy huh?”
Trump just glares at the My Pillow putz who quickly hits the “play” button in response.
First to fall were the obese of both the red and blue civilian troops, causing some smart asses on the rogue app Twitter to dub this The Battle of the Second Battle of the Bulge. Although the bloodiest civil war since the Civil War of Lincoln’s Day, it has proven to be a chance to lower our obesity health index for the first time in 50 years.
The game was afoot. The sneaky Black former failed President versus our heroic great white Hope’s son of our stable genius president Donald John Trump, Don Jr., was accompanied by his operatic battle crier Colonel Guilfoyle .
Both of them clad in golden armor, astride the white stallions recalled the great days of Roman rule. All looks promising as General Senator Ron Johnson joins the Trumptopian troops in his cheddar cheese colored armored tank to draw final battle plans.
“General Johnson.” says Don Jr imperiously while Johnson lifts open the hatch on his tank.
“With all due respect that’s General/Senator Ron Johnson, Junior!”
“Oh, get off it, Ron. We’re about to go into battle. Let’s keep it short shall we?” grouses Guilfoyle.
“I outrank you and outgun you, little missy,” says Johnson laughing as his tank turret playfully takes aim at her and Don Jr.
Don Jr. fast draws his pearl handled pistol and blows the smile from Johnson’s face along with his head.
The cameraman shouts off-screen, “Holy fuck!”
Don Jr. smiles for the camera, “Command is all about respect. And –“
“Donnie! Come on you wuss! We gotta battle to win!” shouts Guilfoye.
“Later, fans. After Kimberly and I kick some Kenyan BLM ass! Yee ha!” shouts Don Jr. as he rears up his stallion and follows Guilfoyle. The two look amazing charging into battle until…
BOOM! The duo vanish in a massive explosion.
“Stop! Don Jr. is dead?” shouts Trump.
Lindell hits pause and says consolingly, “Along with Colnel Guilfoyle and most of our brave Wisconsin Trumptopia troops. Sorry for your loss, sir”
“My son was a damn fool not using Johnson cheesy tank. But, hey, I’ll put on a show of grief. Should inspire some donors,” says Trump.
Lindell looks for any sign of grief from the stone faced Trump and then says, “Brilliant as always, sir! Now, if you don’t mind, I’m on Fox in five minutes to discuss the film.”
“No. I’ll take the Fox interview myself.”
“It’s really no trouble, sir,” offers Lindell, clutching one of his crappy pillows for security.
“I said I will take the interview. No one’s lost more in this battle than me. My firstborn.” says Trump with a fake sniffle.
“But may I start the Fox interview and turn it over to you? Makes you more sympathetic.” says Lindell hopefully,
“Hmm. We can do that. But make it quick.”
“Great. Follow me. I’ve got the Fox setup in my office.” says Lindell, pointing the way with a gracious bow.
“No. This interview will be done from here in the oval,” demands Trump
“But it’s all set up in my office and there’s not time to — Of course. Of course.” Lindell barks into his phone. “Get the Fox crew over to the oval.”
A short time later Trump listens as Secretary Lindell makes the intro to the Fox cameras.
“Our Donald may have lost a son… but he still has all of you fine citizens of Trumptopia as his children. My fellow My Pillow fans, I give you the chosen one, our true President, Donald John Trump,” says Lindell with sweep of his hand that messes up Trump’s hair. Everyone holds their breath for Trump’s furious reaction. But Trump does not notice his hair is askew, revealing a bald pate as he speaks to the camera:
My fellow, Trumptopians, in a vicious sneak attack, Blue forces led by the evil Barack Obama, murdered my… my brave boy Don Jr. in cold blood. This is personal now! Therefore, Obama the puppet master and his puppet Biden have left me no choice but to order, herewith, a tactical nuclear strike on George Floydland, FKA Kenosha Wisconsin.
I know it seems horrible as such an attack will kill red and blue soldiers and civilians alike. But the Pentagon estimates this ultimate shock and awe attack will end the Blue Civil War years ahead of conventional hand to hand fighting. Thus saving millions of American lives at the sacrifice of approximately half a million Wisconsinites.
Fear not! To reduce civilian casualties I am hereby grant the next 30 minutes to depart the George Floydland’s blast zone.
Please take your most precious possessions as Kenosha will be radioactive and uninhabitable for the next 35 years. Good news that’s half the normal length of radioactivity contamination thanks to our brilliant tactical nukes granted to us by our beloved friend and ally Kim Jung Un. Good night and God Bless Trumptopia.
Fox News cuts to pandemonium on the streets as forces of the left and right fight their way out of Kenosha. It’s a blood bath.
The camera lights go off and Trump smiles proudly at the stunned camera crew and a speechless Secretary Lindell.
“How was I?” asks Trump calmly.
Fox cameraman wearing a Trumptopia T-Shirt gushes, “Trumptopia’s behind you, sir!”
“I’m really trying to keep casualties low yet send a message of compassion. Fucking tightrope act,” says Trump loosening his red tie. Not to mention the chance to catch Obama sleeping with a nuke.”
“3 D chess once again, sir!” says the Fox cameraman.
“What’s your name, kid? You have a future on Trump TV.” says Trump shaking the cameraman’s hand in the dominant style Trump is famed for.
“But I have a major My Pillow distribution center in Kenosha,” the shocked Lindell finally says.
Trump checks his watch and says, “Um, not 28 minutes.”
A strategic bomber glides the starry skies over Lake Michigan beneath the full moon. In the bomber cockpit a heated argument rages between the pilot and co-Pilot.
“Orders are orders!” shouts the pilot.
“Not when the fucking order is to nuke a city on American soil for a delusional illegitimate president!” bellows the co-pilot.
Pilot and co-pilot both reach for their pistols. BANG!
TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 11 – TO NUKE OR NOT TO NUKE KENOSHA THAT IS THE QUESTION
*As always my little disclaimer that this is of course a work of pure fiction about an alternate universe. It is in no way a true reflection the kind and compassionate Donald J Trump, and his cohorts or for that matter the good guys in this dark comedic telling, the Biden bunch. But I hope it makes you feel a little better about the weird as hell times we are still lost in.
In these menacing times it’s helpful to meditate on the big picture to regain some sense of objectivity. I needed a meditation to settle me down after a disturbing dip of my toe into the Monday night news about the cesspool that was the Nazi odal staged CPAC 2021. A strange, almost occult event, complete with a golden idol Trump and fueled by our ever more fascist GOP, filled with Trump wannabe liars.
I took some deep breaths to launch myself into meditation, closed my weary eyes and began to visualize the evolution of the human race, all the way from its early primitive cave people beginnings up to the troubling Q-soaked mind control times of today. A somber time where nearly half the US population is still enraged and enslaved by the dangerous BIG LIE that the Dems stole the election from Trump.
Some of us are trying to move on from the Trump era of arrogant incompetence and mean spirited thought, word and deed. I love Biden’s work 6 weeks into his presidency. But I am frustrated that so many of my fellow Yanks are clinging to the old ways of a GOP I believe is already dead. Living in the Trump BIG LIE reality unfortunately leaves many of my friends stuck in Q inspired racism, entwined in wilful spread of Covid, and knee-deep more karmic awfulness than George Orwell could imagine.
As a builder of skyscrapers and a maker of movies, I know firsthand that all things begin with imagining. Last night I yearned to imagine answers to the big picture behind the BIG LIE. And so I set my vivid imagination to workless work.
I began to visualize, as if from deep planetary orbit, our blue world spinning and spiraling through space time. The curve of humanity’s negative traits and positive traits presented themselves as a wild mesh of blue and red strands of energy. Thin blue and red lines streaked along the path of earth’s trajectory within this galaxy and our Milky Way galaxy in a glorious dance of the cosmos.
Now the visualization meditation took on a life of its own. Indeed, it was, as it often is for me, it seemed as though the universe was revealing something profound. Somehow this unfolding epiphany allowed me to let go of seeing the blue and red as good versus evil. Instead I witnessed the web of human lifetimes simply as primitive thinking versus evolved thinking. Borrowing from Biden recent neanderthal comments concerning Texas Governor Abbott’s dropping mandatory mash wearing as the pandemic still rages.
The lines of primitive thinking, represented in red by (Who else?) Trump, were energized by the people who love him, at the core, for his being a cunning yet not bright, racist. Lines of the blue higher consciousness reality swirled in space time among the stars as a lighter and hipper energy more in tune with my frequency of which I wish to be a part.
I watched the human wave of consciousness expand from its tiny prehistoric origins blossom into the vast bundles of blue and red lifeline threads of today’s harrowing reality. Then I saw that humankind stands at a great fork in reality. In the blue fork of reality, humankind ascends into a space faring race that populates the stars, emerging after eons as a species immortal through exploration of space and our own diversity. But in the other fork, the red dominated one, humankind does not even master this single world that we’ve been gifted by the universe. And sadly in a relatively short span of time from 2021 humanity’s beautiful time lines all end in our species’ extinction for a number of idiotic self-destructive reasons.
I observed all this sorrow without forgetting to remain relaxed and to keep breathing deeply. Then something wonderful, in a weird way, arose my vision. The shorter red Trumpian dominated timeline bent into a loop where alpha and omega met and humankind’s collective life force rode the entire rise and fall of humanity over and over. All of this beauty experienced each time as new personas.
And so the finite red timeline evolved from Trumpism had it’s own form of immortality, expressed as looped lifetimes. Now I visioned there were two primary ways for humanity to exist infinitely. Each valid for it’s own kind, those who cling to the past and those who look forward to the future.
I slowly opened my eyes, gradually coming back to this reality. The TV was playing Wonder Woman 1984. The fireplace filled our living room with warmth and orange light. My beautiful wife Elizabeth was sound asleep on the couch, snoring lightly. My rescue dog Lincoln was cozy-ed up to me in my easy chair. I continued not to judge either fork in the human wave of timelines that my mind saw as diverging as either right or wrong. I felt blessed that the universe provides infinite possibly via the quantum physics of the multi-universe.
A deep sense of gratitude and relaxation washed over me. And then I gave myself and perhaps the world a gift… I let go of the loop Trump universe and all it represents. You see, I prefer to go forward to the reality timeline where the human wave populates the stars. A bigger joy awaits us all there.
When we last left our alternate timeline Donald J. Trump and his alternate enablers in Chapter 8, Trumptopia’s orange presidential bad boy was busy selling his BIG LIE that he was cheated out of his rightful second term.
In this dark alternate reality, a series of cautionary political tales I plan to gather into a book, working title Trump’s Fever Dream, the Trump fostered insurrection on the capitol succeeded in overthrowing the rightful government.
There’s just one problem in Trump’s rebranding of the USA he’s dubbed Trumptopia: A Civil War from the left looms. One for which Trump has been unable to access the treasury to prepare for battle.
CHAPTER 9 – THE GREENE JEWISH SPACE LASER NEW DEAL
Trump nervously paces the oval office, wolfing into a Big Mac.
Bannon, Jared and Ivanka wait patiently on the couches as Trump washes the burger down with a noisy gulp of diet Coke. Bannon opens his mouth to speak but Trump holds up his hand and belches. Bannon waits for an “excuse me” that never comes and pushes on, “Mr. President — “
“Mr. President. Wow, love still hearing that. What you were about to say, Steve?” says Trump absentmindedly.
“Um, Mr. President, our brave patriot Trumptopia troops have lost control of three state capitols this week; Maine, Georgia and Arizona. All to bastards loyal the Former United States. As a result we are running low on the basics, ammo, shelter and food,” says the ever more scrubby looking Bannon.
“Damn Putin to hell! The lying louse was supposed to back me up with shock troops, air cover and tactical nukes!” shouts Trump.
“Putin has his own troubles fighting off the Navalny revolution, Daddy,” says Ivanka.
“Swell. I’ll nuke the blue states on my own. What are the polls showing?” says Trump as he mindlessly fidgets with the aluminum pop top tab on his diet Coke.
Bannon fans through his notes and offfers, “Only 33% of our base favors the domestic nuclear option.”
“Get those assholes on Fox cracking! I need 60% approval before I can nuke California! The smug bastard Newsom is going to pay for his wanton slaying of 11,780 brave Trumptopians who perished storming Sacramento!”
“Uh, sir, that’s actually the total you needed to win Georgia. We lost more like 10,000,” says Bannon.
Everyone shouts in unison, “Never forget Sacramento!”
“Jared, you’re the money man. Congress is still a war zone. How do I raise some quick cash to fight these stubborn bastards that old coot Joe Biden and the half-breed Harris are leading to overthrow me?” says Trump pounding his pudgy fist into his meaty palm for emphasis.
“Space Force,” says Jared brightly.
“Space Force?” says a puzzled Trump. “Nah. It’ll be months until the nuclear space platform is at the ready to nuke anything.”
Jared clicks the intercom and softly says, “Send in the new Speaker of the House.”
The paneled door opens and Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, the new speaker, enters. She is dressed in the new Trumptopia military uniform. Her ill-fitting uniform bears an uncanny, though not unexpected, resemblance to the Nazi SS uniform of World War ll. Greene wields an AK-47 recklessly.
“That thing loaded?” asks Trump, trying to sounds brave.
“Of course, sir. DC is still crawling with libtards!” says Greene incredulously.
“Put your damn weapon down!” demands Trump.
“Nope. Here, I’ll just put on the lil’ old safety on my AK, Mr. President,” gushes Greene.
“I said put the god damn weapon DOWN!”
“All due respect. That’s no way to speak to your new Speaker of the House.”
Trump grabs the AK-47 and wrestles with Greene. The AK-47 erupts. Rapid fire cuts off the head of a Trump security guard. Greene finally relents to Trump. Guards cart the headless corpse off as the rattled group climb out of hiding places.
Trump sighs and gingerly stands the smoking gun against the resolute desk and says, “OK, OK, what’s this big idea you had for raising money, Greene? It better be fucking good and it better have nothing the fuck to do with asking for more dough from the My Pillow Guy. We busted that brave patriot. Poor Mikey is homeless.”
“Simple. Let’s have a crowd funder to bring down the Jewish space laser!” says Green brightly.
“But there is no such thing as a Jewish space — Oh, I get it! A new Big Lie!” says Trump, annoyed he did not think of this himself from his expression.
“May I take it from here, Majorie?” asks Jared. Greene’s happily nods. “Mr. President, this is how we reach 60% approval for the domestic nuclear option. Take a look at this iPad.”
Trump yanks the iPad from Jared. Trump’s bloodshot eyes go wide as he reads.
FUNDING GOAL $5 BILLION!
“Renewed weapons grade brainwashing with this kind of budget! I predict your new Destroy the Jewish Space Laser! crowd funder will be the most successful campaign in history, Mr. President!” beams Jared.
“But $5 billion? Aren’t we aiming a little high even for my stupid as hell fan base?” says Trump.
Ivanka pipes up, “No amount of money is too big, Daddy. Fighting the Jewish Space Laser is brave and patriotic. So in character with your mandate as our Christian war chief. What’s a measly $5 billion? You’ll raise 10 billion! You are the chosen one after all.”
“Thanks for seeing my glory, baby!” says Trump grabbing his daughter to him for a hug so amorous that it makes Jared jealous. “Greene, you have my word that I will promote you to 5 star general if your campaign to Destroy the Jewish Space Laser succeeds!”
“But I already have 5 stars, sir.” pouts Greene.
“Six stars then!” boasts Trump.
Mark Meadows pokes his head in the oval office and says,”Sir, it’s time for your fitting for your military outfit. Shall I tell the tailor you’re busy?”
“No, show my tailor in. Oops, watch the pool of blood on the rug there, Mark. Everybody else out. You have a Jewish Space Laser to defeat!”
Greene smiles and says coyly, “Now you’re talking, like my fearsome leader!”
Jared pipes up, “Fearless leader.”
“Nope. Fearsome, as in awesome.” chides Greene.
“Fearless. Fearsome means timid. Google it, you ignorant bitch!” shouts Jared.
Greene dives for her AK-47 and spins on Jared. “I knew the Jew in you was a traitor. Let me shoot him Mr. President!
“No, Margy. Jared’s family. One of the good Jews. Put down the rifle.”
Greene sags and whispers in Trump’s ear, “Never trust a Jew.”
Trump whispers back in Greene’s ear, “Never question my judgement again or you’ll be facing a firing squad.”
As Greene exits she passes Trump’s Jewish tailor who gives her the hairy eyeball.
“What are you looking at, tailor?” grouse Greene intentionally bumping into the old tailor.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” says the tailor bowing dismissively to the enraged Greene.
All of the Trump Fever Dream stories are of course purely fictional and not meant to portray the individuals in any real way. It’s been created simply for your reading pleasure and maybe to help you realize just how lucky we might be that Trump has been pushed aside like the old fart he truly is by the voters of this great land; supported the politicians, judges, pundits brave enough to stand up to the Trump incited, or at the very least inspired, January 6th insurrection.
Stay true to yourself and those you love. – Ken Sheetz
Now that America did not self-destruct after all on January 20th, despite the predictions of Q, it’s time take a deep breath. Phew! Time for me to thank my wife for her amazing help in keeping me from falling down the Q rabbit hole. A hole many of the best people in the New Age and yoga community fell into.
All to the shock and horror of our left leaning community that so many of us could be so hung up — on wearing masks and taking a sensible vaccines — that so many vegans would end up passionately supporting a dim witted Neo-Nazi “hamburder” led insurrection against democracy!
You see, my beloved Elizabeth England, and fellow DreamShield blogger, is a pro-calling mind control BS, based on great intuition and 17 years military experience. Some of Elizabeth’s long and excellent service to America was performed in Special Ops, working in psychological operations. AKA PSYOPS.
To learn more about the weapons grade PSYOP that was launched on the Brits to ram through Brexit and then launched 4 years of Trump hell in America see THE GREAT HACK on Netflix. And, yeah, that film is one of the big reasons the Q brain washers, who may be Russian, is one of the reasons, besides their liking Obama, that, like any controlling cult, Q has told their believers not to watch NETFLIX.
As my loving partner in all things, Elizabeth has and continues to tirelessly blow the whistle on Q for me and those smart enough to listen to her here, Twitter and in person since day one when Q emerged to spread lies and hatred in 2017.
Elizabeth believes that Q, even in tatters for now, remains the most dangerous and powerful mind control tool ever inflicted on the American people. Letting go of Q, and all it stands for, is the first step on the road back to peace of mind.
You might think mind control can’t get me. AND YOU WOULD BE WRONG. This battle for the hearts and minds of America is not over by a long shot. Stay sharp. Many in the New Age community are profoundly infected by hateful conspiracies. So be careful with what you open from well meaning but totally messed up friends and family.
Get ready. Many will not give up Q and conspiracy theories even in the face of the wicked smoking crater the Trump years represent. A persistent desire to live in the bliss of brainwasher’s Big Lie all too well embodied in this sad yet hilarious photo today of the only NY guy who showed up today for Trump’s civil war on inauguration day.
Just remember, with all the love you can muster, that if your confused friend and/or loved one’s are under the very real mind control of Q and the Big Lie, the proven methodology of right-wing extremists, and gently tell them the truth.
Trump was not cheated.
There was NO voter fraud.
Biden is a legit president and is not a baby eating demon.
Let’s get on with building back better.
Use your IQ to free yourself of Q.
Get them to watch more media than just the brainwashing echo chambers.
Go easy on them on yourself in progress they make. It won’t be easy.
I now return you to your celebrating, or, being still lost to Trumpism and Q, mourning, the inauguration of Joe and Kamala, the rightful and righteous new President and Vice President.
I wrote this fantasy meditation about how great it would be if Trump resigned before his first Impeachment began on 11/11/19. Add the new charges of Insurrection and change the dates and it’s aged all too well. Enjoy.
(Rather hear an audio version of this blog? Link bottom of post.)
Happy evening of 11/11/19. I hope you will enjoy this somewhat humorous quantum meditational look ahead two days into one possible timeline. One that many not happen exactly as I write about here, but one that may paradoxically happen precisely in this way somewhere in the infinite multi-verse or later in this universe than I imagine here.
Before we get started with this quantum meditation, if you’re one of my dear friends, family or fans who I still love even though we strongly disagree on Trump — and I am glad you still love me too as it gives me hope we’re going to get through all this mess — please feel to leave your own fantasy timeline in the comments. I promise not to erase them no matter how much I respectfully disagree.
The Biden transition is nothing short of a transition back to sanity. But it feels like the transition is taking forever because Trump, the king of the bad losers, is making this an ugly hard transition, one fraught with the danger of a civil war. It’s as if all Trump’s hate fostering and insanity of the past 4 years is being wrung out of the dirty dish towel of Trump’s reign. Hang in there.
I’d venture to say that Humankind has never experienced such intense stress, inflicted in particular on the American people, by the delusional leader of a nuclear power who is fully capable of trying to induce the rapture as a committee of one.
Since 2015 I’ve come to expect a unique brand of duplicitous lunacy from Trump and the GOP. But what I did not see coming this week were the 126 seditious House Republicans and 17 AG of other states signing onto a doomed to fail lawsuit filed by a Texas AG, an AG currently under indictment.
Fortunately, SCOTUS put Trump bogus legal claims to bed with not one but two DENIED rulings this past week. So what ‘s keeping all Trump’s delusions about a stolen election going? Greed. He’s found a way to bilk people for a legal defense fund. All while people are dying at the rate of a 9/11 a day of Covid. It’s not ordinary denial… it’s super-denial.
Here’s a story about super-denial on a much smaller personal scale. The names have been changed to protect the innocently delusional.
A 65th 25th BIRTHDAY PARTY
The hot autumn desert sun of 2010 beats down on the strange white domed structure know as the Integretron.
For most of 2010 I’ve taken a deep dive into the Los Angeles New Age community. This dive into the unknown came after beating my head against the Hollywood wall for a decade. A beating that has left me almost penniless and with no true Hollywood friends to show for it. So the open arms of the LA conscious community is welcome. Even if I am often wary of many in the conspiracy-loving community wanting my film skills in barter for healings and room and board.
This weekend I am filming a gathering of about twenty attractive minor celebrities of the LA conscious community, thrilled to be gaining fans and attention on the newfangled tool of social media. Our happy group makes our way up into the dome that sits near California’s Joshua Tree National Park for ceremony in the acoustically perfect interior of the Integretron.
After we all enjoy the great singing of a failed but talented wannabe Hollywood opera star, we’re all gathered by the campfire as the sun sets. I lean to the birthday guest of honor, a senior citizen, let’s call her Myrtle after one of my favorite aunts, and say, “Happy 65th birthday, Myrtle.”
“Don’t wish me that!” Myrtle quips.
“Because the mother ship is taking me up tonight to be rejuvenated. When you see me in the morning I’ll be a hot young 25!” quips Myrtle without a trace of doubt in her Texas twang.
Now, I’d gotten to know Myrtle well enough in LA to be frank with her, so I say dryly, “It’s cool you’re so sure you’re going to be reverse aged to 25, changing you from too old for me into too young to date, but maybe you want to leave yourself a little wiggle room so that if tomorrow morning you’re still 65 –“
Myrtle cuts me off with a dismissive wave and says to me as if instructing a child,”The ETs teach that to have even a shred of doubt sabotages manifestation.”
That night I did not sleep well in the Integretron. Not because I was even remotely imagining Myrtle would be abducted from our little group up to a spaceship to be reverse aged to 25, but because one of the guest’s snore was amplified to insane level in the perfect acoustic chamber.
Next morning over coffee and pancakes at a Ruby Tuesday’s diner on the way back to LA I managed to not remind the still 65-year-old Myrtle of my warning to leave herself some wiggle room. No worries. Myrtle had worked it all out for the group by announcing over pancakes, “Well, as you can see I am sadly still 65. That’s ‘casue the mothership captain told me the Galactic Council decided not change me back into a 25-year-old.”
“Why not?” I managed to ask with a straight face.
Myrtle grins like a kid caught with their hand caught in the cookie jar but manages to say, sounding unconvinced herself, “‘Cause no one on earth would believe who I really am without a matching new passport photo.”
“Aho,” the snorer from last night, who Myrtle loved like a son, says. BTW, “Aho” is New Age lingo for Amen. And that Aho was all the group cared to say on the matter. Myrtle smiled cockily at me and went back to enjoying her strawberry pancakes.
All these years later as I watch Trump spin his alternate reality that Joe Biden stole the election from play out on the world stage I am reminded of Myrtle and her ability to spin a new web of lies to keep her dream of being returned to the tender age of 25 up to date and active. 2020 and 10 years later and she’s now 75 and still dreaming of a youth rescue mission from the ETs.
Each time Trump loses a court victory, 56 losses in court and counting, like Myrtle he simply creates a new lie to support his waning chances. His willing group of supporters who are playing the game with him then spout those lies to anyone willing to listen.
Don’t buy the lies. Trump will be out of office, short of a civil war, come noon EST January 20th. Until then, if you’re a Trumper, take my advice and leave yourself some wiggle room. As for me. Well, I’ll be hoping for Myrtle’s mother ship to take me a few months into the future to escape this eternal transition back to the sanity of a kinder and gentler America under Biden and Kamala.
The elections are finally over, at least the campaigning and voting part, right? I am relieved it’s relatively peaceful. I feel the pleasant tickle of a deep healing beginning, sprouting like a fresh lotus flower at the center of my brain.
Today’s meditation blog, channeling ET spirit guide Ohom* (short for Open Heart Open Mind), is to aid and speed our healing as a traumatized nation by sharing that yummy lotus healing I am feeling.
Let’s get started.
OHOM: Yes, Ken.
ME: So nice to hear your inner voice so clearly, Ohom. It’s been hard to reach you for months.
OHOM: Yes, the anger Trump intentionally fosters is not conducive to telepathy over such great time space as separate our worlds.
ME: I’m a little ashamed Trump got to me as much as he did.
OHOM: Your president does have a talent of finding everyone’s passion and poking at them.
ME: Yup. For some it’s love of our park lands — sold off. For some the work of years of gaining environmental protections — gone in an instant. The list goes on.
OHOM: Abusing refugee children, separating them from their parents and putting them in cages, then lying and blaming Obama as the initiator of this peace time war crime was the straw that broke your peacock’s back.
ME: Camel’s back. Not Peacock.
ME: And yes, Trump got me with abusing kids in those damn cages. After he did that I became dedicated to campaigning against Trump. (Here’s a link to the over 100 videos I made for Twitter on BuzzBroz.)
OHOM: You are far from alone. But the time has come to heal. To put this election, even before the results are known behind you.
ME: Good. While you meditate with the readers I am going to enjoy some life on your peaceful world of Nektar for now. Bye for now for what will be years for me but only a few minutes the earth people.
OHOM: Bon voyage, Ken. — Just you and me now, dear reader. Please concentrate on my words and the mind pictures they paint using my namesake of an open heart and open mind. Breathe deeply and add your own personal energy to this blog meditation.
Today, the day your particular earth’s media crowns Joe Biden President Elect, whenever that occurs for you, is a very dangerous time in your American history. Many timelines lead, as I am sure you know, to your species’ endpoint.
Unfortunately, it is as impossible as catching the wind in the palm of your hand, to close off the energies of the birth of timelines, positive or negative. Nor does your higher self in fact want you to avert possible futures you can handle with grace. What is possible is that by using your consciousness en masse humankind can birth more positive timelines.
Many of you, my friend Ken included, have chosen to be here on earth at this challenging time for the Great Splitting. Relax. Zero stress choosing either the happy paths of light or the paths of pain and darkness, for all the is in the end are shades of light mixed with darkness. A brightness or darkness you have sought to experience in multiple realities as a spiritual teaching.
Indeed, you are a far greater being than you know. You exist simultaneously in infinite realities, a master soul experiencing all things, all times, all joy, all races, all genders, all sorrow, all to learning from equally. Truly misogyny, racism, cruelty, abuse and more negative realities are all a form of self hatred.
Now, without judgement, split yourself into a right brain oriented person in the reality of Biden as president and left brain oriented person in the reality of Trump as president. The energies expressing themselves in your elections makes that easy. Now there are two new earths with two different reality trees, each equally real, each equally valid and on the same journey to full cosmic awareness for your master self, your master soul.
Take a walk in the reality you’ve chosen, a Biden presidency or a Trump presidency. Surrender to the fact you are not a helpless being getting pushed into a reality you did not choose. It’s simply the opposite of your choice on one matter versus another. Don’t judge yourself a failure if Trump won in your reality despite your efforts for Biden and vice versa.
Now, take a deep breath and gaze about the room you are reading this blog in. Both realities look the same at this early stage of the Great Splitting. So it’s a wonderful time to accept both realities. Surrender to your own majesty, your courage, your grace.
Let go of all the stress of the US elections. Let go of all the mind control you’ve experience from both the left and right, who simply vary in style and subtlety. Let go of the terrible strain it was to vote amidst a deadly pandemic.
Accept that ultimately, it does not matter who won the election. Repeat out loud: It does not matter who won the election. Now visualize the coolest tomorrow you can for yourself and the world you live in.
Last, freed of judgement on yourself for the timeline you are experiencing or your new alternate self is experiencing, do the same forgiveness to anyone in the opposite reality. After all, you do not get angry with your reflection and we are all a reflection of the one great consciousness we call this universe and multi-verse. Work together, left and right, as best you can. giving it your all and letting go of all outcome.
Thanks, Ohom. Back to me, your fellow earth man Ken Sheetz. I will share tales about my 4 year visit to Nektar some other time.
I close with a path Ohom’s meditation from 2012 in Antarctica that seem very appropriate for the job we’ve taken a 4 year break from of saving this world from global warming. And so you can guess which timeline I am on. Ohom “appears” in my 24 meditations in Antarctica film at 31 minutes and 11 seconds.
*DISCLAIMER: Please be flexible and not too literal in doing these meditations. Ohom may not be an ET and simply be a part of an awakening writer’s imagination, meant to give me some self-objectivity and/or a totally real insect-based highly advance life form from the 13th dimension in the Orion star system. I just know the OHOM meditation always boosts my spirit and I hope it will your too.
Trump built a wall all right. A wall of lies and conspiracy theories built by a Russian army of trolls, an enabling GOP and a racist fan base. All decidedly UN-American. So if Regan — who I am proud to say I voted for despite not being happy with many things Reagan did in office — were here today he would say, “Donald Trump, tear down this wall!”
Stay positive and stay strong. The amount of mind control that will be thrown at us in the 6 weeks left until the elections will be unprecedented.
Don’t let the RBG seat fight distract you. We saw what the GOP is made of during the impeachment. Remain focused on getting people registered and getting out the vote.
Mail-in is messed up thanks to messy Trump it’s best to wear a mask and vote in person.
Our only recourse is to remain alive despite our super-spreader in chief’s best efforts and vote Biden to save America on November 3rd.
Basics: Time is running out to register. Be sure to make a voting plan as Trump is going to make voting hellish for you otherwise.