Since my return from Antartica in 2012, where I filmed 24 quantum intentional meditations to accelerate the shift, I am often asked what I like most about Antarctica. I always say, “Besides the penguins, the fact there’s no EMF radiation.”
Indeed. the purity of the energy field and its powerful magnetics make Antarctica ideal for intentional meditation. Up until now you’d have to travel all the way south to get the same feeling of freedom from EMF. Now, via Tesla scalar waves produced in fibonacci sequences by using a Blushield device you can feel Antarctica’s purity without ever leaving home!
In classic law of attraction form, this amazing new product like came to CME effortlessly.
The ball got rolling when we upgraded our Wifi to 5G. Though we loved the faster speeds we felt wonky bathed in so much EMF. Elizabeth did some research to look for the best EMF protectors. She found then story in Nexus Magazine about an incredible line of EMF protection devices originating out of New Zealand. We got the Teslsa Plug-in, thinking if we liked it we’ve step up to the larger Tesla Gold Series Cube.
We immediately noticed improvements in mood and energy using the Blushield plugin. We weren’t needing as much coffee to face the long hours we put in on the computer everyday. And we sailed through some serious bumps in the road of life more easily.
A few days later we got an email from the BluSheild-USA distributor, Brandon Amalani, who it turns out was fan and supporter of our work where we bring cool tools to the market from greats of spirit science like Patrick Flanagan, Jonathan Goldman, Liz Aplert and James Wanless. Brandon blessed us with the entire line of Blushield for us to study as possible addition to our Cool Tools Page.
Once we added the portable improvement our baseline health accelerated. I experienced greater detox than Elizabeth. My sinuses, I’ve had trouble with since childhood cleared to the point where an old root canal abscessed tooth that had been infecting my sinuses begged the dentist for removal.
Best of all we notice the use of Blushield clears away the mental cobwebs of EMF and we are preforming better meditations.
Well, with results like we’ve both had personally, combined with the great results in research in blood testing and farm testing, it was not a hard to decided to add Blushield to our CoolTools page. And the line is so comprehensive we are building a new website called CoolestTechEver.com. Hard to believe that great URL was out there for us. Good sign.
Here’s a new 17 second promo spot we’ve created to express the wonderful way Blushield’s fibonacci patterned scalar frequencies entrain your body to tune out EMF’s harmful effect.
FROM OUR HOME PAGE
Let’s face it, WiFi and cell phone signals are inescapable in our modern environment. Awake and sleeping, we’re immersed in these invisible waves. Unfortunately much as humanity loves the convenience of wireless electronics, their relentless frequency waves cause disruption to our body’s electromagnetic field at the cellular level. And this continuous cellular stress response has proven to have cumulative negative long term health effects.
Greater mental clarity for meditation, school, work.
Able to spend more time in front of a computer.
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Better Quality Sleep
All these cool benefits will help you create the coolest meditation ever while improving your baseline health. As opposed to passive EMF protection, like stickers and orgonite, Blushield utilizes active EMF protection technology by creating powerful coherent scalar waves to mitigate EMF (electromagnetic fields) at a cellular level. Blushield overrides all ambient EMF fields, including wireless radiation, mimicking nature and relaxing our body’s stress response caused by EMF.
Is Trump is an angel of destruction of the evil old ways or just a lying a jerk?
“Liberals For Trump!” Sounds as unlikely as “Jews for Jesus!” But I’ve learned the hard way, through the painful loss of many friends over my Meditations on Trump, that Liberals For Trump believers really do exist. And in higher numbers than I bet the polls can measure.
Reading between the lines after a wonderful friend tearfully lectured me that I should not be lowering my vibration to talk politics, I see Trump shame is particularly keen in the consciousness community where love for the environment, vegetarianism, kindness, and many other ideals clash deeply with Trump’s bull in a yoga store way of operating.
The first time I realized more than a few of my spirit friends are Liberals For Trump — and there is another smaller branch of Conservative Spirit Peeps for Trump I’ve stumbled across — was after the night Bernie Sanders was robbed of the Democratic nomination by Hilary. For the weeks following that fateful summer of 2016 night, Facebook and Twitter were aflame with Bernie lament.
Now, although Trump and Sanders have very different takes on politics, one for more government and one for less, they both nonetheless represent a bitter rejection of the status quo that many liberals adore as much as their conservative brethren. Without Bernie to pick from, my Bernie buddies went into the booth to vote for Trump and, presto, exited as Liberals For Trump.
I’ve been hoping my pals, from ET fans to angel workers, who profess love for Trump for his demolition of America’s wicked old ways, would come back to center after the months of chaos under Trump.
Ah. But think about it; an affair with Stormy didn’t sway them, over a dozen women accusing Trump of sexual harassment didn’t sway them, a live mic with Trump’s grab ’em by the pussy wisecrack didn’t sway them, Mueller’s getting 5 of 20 people he’s indicted to plead guilty for conspiring with the Russians to influence our elections didn’t sway them, Michael Cohen funneling millions from corporations for Trump access did not sway them, North American and European allies getting slammed with tariffs while Trump rains favors on Commie dictators have not swayed them, and the beat goes horrifically on.
At one point during the campaign Trump claimed he could shoot a man in the middle of 5th Avenue and still win the Republican nomination. He appears to have been right as the Russian collusion evidence mounts and he grows in popularity. You get the idea, nothing sways people who like Trump’s schtick. If anything, his fanatic fans run deeper into supporting him amid liberal news media and comedic backlash that only serves to bolster his persecution complex.
Still, these past few weeks I hoped that Trump’s hard core policy on separating immigrant babies from their mothers might pry some of friends free of backing Trump so vehemently. If not in private, at least on Facebook. But this week, amidst an avalanche of horrors in the media about illegal immigrant children crying for their lost loved ones hit its pain soaked peak, one real-life and FB friend, actually posted this photo to their page.
Holy shit. I’ll always remember this as the day then I realized how deep down the rabbit hole a Trump fan’s rejection of the status quo goes. Out of love and respect I resisted the urge to joke post back, ” Wha? I have enough trouble seeing Trump as human let alone as the archangel Michael!”
I’ve learned the hard way you really can’t reach Liberals For Trump, anymore than you can reach Conservatives for Trump, lost in their Fox News, or reach Libertarian’s trapped in their web of endless conspiracy theories who still think the CIA killed Kennedy 55 years ago. Face it. We the cyber word has us all pigeonholed into neat little bubbles, even though FB got caught redhanded selling our data to Cambridge Analytica.
So why make enemies when the Hillarys Trumps and Obamas of the world are not really running the show, but the 13 families that own the big show? For my dear FB friend, out of her Trump loving mind with her post last week, and others like her, Trump is perhaps an angel for his destruction of the status quo and the immigrant kids getting ripped from their families at the border are painful collateral damage? Frankly, I am afraid to ask.
Or perhaps my Liberal For Trump friends are blinded by Trump’s 1984-ish Big Brother mind games? I read somewhere, cannot find the link right now, that despite the side by side 2009 and 2017 inaugural photos, 61% of conservatives believe Trump’s “My Inauguration crowd was bigger than Obama’s!” lie. That’s powerful mass hypnosis on human scale we’ve never seen here is America.
Weird how my having a father who lied constantly to the family made me into a human lie detector. As an adult that makes me wretch whenever Trump lies. Never thought I’d be thanking Dad for his lies about that trip to Dinseyland that never happened and the countless other lies he seemed to dream up like Trump, even when lying was not needed.
Much as I try to keep an emotional lid with my spirit friends notion of Trump as a cosmic DJ Demolition Man, it gets deeply depressing when he continues to dominate our 24/7 news cycle. Many in the self-serving-fear-mongering press, profess there’s a grave danger hidden within Not-Sees support of Trump. The panicked liberal press believe that because Liberals for Trump, and conservative alike, are not blinking at the border #wallofsorrow it must mean America is one step away from Nazi death camps for minorities before they cut to anti-depressant commercials.
However, never one to be a willing customer of media fear machine, I don’t see the Trump era, even if it extends to 2024 and beyond with his daughter taking office then jared, ever going the way of the Nazis. This is not 1936 Germany, despite Trump’s “good”Nazi kids waving Confederate flags.
No. What’s going right now is uniquely American, despite how nasty it all is. As a people as we near the 4th of July 2018 perhaps ugly stuff that Trump unwittingly serves spirit to bring to the surface? Is Trump unconsciously acting like a Lakota Heyoka clown? His backwards actions and policies create potent cognitive dissonance making us question the very nature of our reality?
Are my friends right? Does spirit in some mystical way, works through Trump’s darkness to bring the light? I have no answers. Just a desire to look deeper for the meaning of all this. And I am grateful for that spark of hope that my Liberals For Trump spirit friends are seeing something good in Trump I do not.
I’ve truly been blessed to have Robin Williams’ spirit in touch with me often since his death on August 11, 2014. But unlike many people with psychic visions, suspiciously sure of their gifts, I sometimes wonder if Robin’s ghost is really keeping in touch or if it’s all just my wild imagination.
Robin’s spirit finds my uncertainty about his visitations quite funny. Perhaps he keeps showing up, despite my misgivings as a reluctant medium, because I always take his funny visits as a serious message from the higher realms of consciousness. And today’s visit from Robin is super welcome in this post-truth era that’s wearing mighty thin for many of us.
Before I get to Robin’s important as it is funny June 2018 message to the world’s, as the iconic actor who played drama and beautifully as comedy describes today’s, “lazy bum comics” a little history. Robin first appeared to me shortly after his death to help me give comfort to many fans troubled by his suicide. Bummer, we lost two more celebs to suicide this week, designer Kate Spade and chef Anthony Bourdain. Fame and success are no protection against depression.
Not surprisingly, Robin’s spirit musings on his horrific suicide are heartbreakingly funny stuff. Read it on the blog in detail in a special section called THE ROBIN WILLIAMS VISITATIONS. Hmm. Feels like a book’s a brewin’.
After Robin’s first ghostly visit, which happened on one of the many hikes I take here in Sedona’s red rocks, he and I bonded quickly. I would say it’s because we are brother in arms who’ve overcome battles with life’s sadness using laughs. Happily, I instantly found I could channel his comedic stylings with good accuracy for this blog.
CLOSE ENCOUNTERS WITH A BLUE WHALE
One amazing day in the fall of 2014 Robin showed up with the spirits of MLK and Mother Teresa. They all wanted a tour of the Buddhist stupa. Which I gave them to my honor as though they were visiting family. I’ve still not found the time to blog about it. I promise to, Robin and readers. Stay tuned.
A few weeks after Robin’s incredible visitations began, I tuned over in bed and yelped as Robin was nose to nose with me under the covers. “Sorry, didn’t want to wake you, Sheetzy. Your snoring’s adorable, btw.”
“Thanks. I think. What brings you to my bed at the crack of dawn, Robin?”
“Sheetzo, I need you to hop on fishing boat off Laguna Beach, and channel me in.”
“Why?” I asked still half asleep, thinking back nostalgically on the days before my 2010 awakening when life was boringly normal. Robin is not the only spirt that visits me.
“Oh. Nothing special, Kenny boy. Just gonna impregnate a virgin whale to reincarnate myself as a blue whale.”
“Oh, is that all?” I said dryly as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. This got a laugh out of Robin. But his laughter quickly faded as I explained to the king of comedy, “Buddy, I am drowning in the workload of a client’s world changer crowd funder. Much as I’d love to travel to the Pacific to help bring you back as a blue whale, Robin, we mortals still have bills to pay.”
“Work from the road. That’s what God made WiFi for.”
“Sorry. I just can’t road trip this thing. Too big. We just launched this cool device that’s going to make it a smarter world. Boost IQ!”
“Fine, Einstein. I’ll do it myself like I have to do everything… when it comes to impregnating virgin whales!” Robin said, his disappointment in me showing on his fading ghostly face.
“Wait, Robin. If you could just wait 60 days or so I promise –”
Robin vanished before I could finish in a disappointed but determined huff. I got up and made some coffee and ruminated that Robin was still used to the star treatment even on the other side. So he’s not used to people saying no very often. I hoped he would not be so angry with me he’d never visit again. However, I made a note to request he not pop into my bed in future and nearly give me a heart attack.
Weeks passed swiftly. My client’s crowd funder became a hit, raising eventually $1.6 million for an update of a beloved scientist’s famed techno-meditation device. So I’d kind of forgotten about Robin’s whale gig when one day, while having a breakfast at my favorite local diner, The Coffee Pot, Robin appeared in the form of a talking blue whale embryo hovering over a portly man’s ham and eggs.
Williams shouted proudly, “I did it, Sheetzy!”
Nearly spit spraying my coffee, I looked slyly around the restaurant. As per usual, despite Sedona being an American mecca for psychics, I was, you guessed it, the only person having this outrageous aquatic visit. “Why the whole whale thing, Robin?” I asked in my mind, deciding I might get a ticket to the looney bin talking out loud to a floating blue whale fetus in a public restaurant.
“Call me, Nanu. That’s my new blue whale name!”
“OK, Nanu Nanu –”
“Just Nanu, Sheetzter. Copyright stuff.”
“Ok, NANU, why reincarnate as blue whale?”
Robin twirled over a blue haired old lady wolfing down her waffles and said proudly, “Because I’m gonna teach the blue whales a new frequency of joy and laughter to broadcast around this bluesy world!”
Robin looked amused by my freaked out face. But it made total sense Robin would not rest long in the afterworld and would seek a cool way to help humanity keep its sense of humor. As if reading my mind about how crazy yet sensible this all seemed to me, Robin added,”Still the doubting Sheetz? Just take a gander at your coffee cup. – Presto!”
Chills ran down my spine, here in the middle of the desert, a relief of dolphins swam on the coffee mug. Robin the blue whale fetus hovered over my head blowing happy air bubble rings as I called over the unsuspecting waitress. I asked her if she’d ever seen a dolphin mug at the restaurant before.
Even though the grizzled middle-aged vet waitress has seen it all in Sedona she gazed in amazement to see dolphins on my coffee mug. “Weird. All we usually got are cactuses and Kokppellis on our mugs.”
I bought the magical mug proof Robin offered at checkout. And if you’re ever a house guest I’ll happily serve you a java from the two more dolphin mugs I’ve since collected on future Williams visits to the Coffee Pot.
Note: Robin loves his coffee and often calls me over to the Coffee Pot, a favorite of visiting celebs, for his spirit visits. He met Elizabeth, my love there and told her, through my channeling, that she is Mamu his mama whale.
Wait a minute! I just joke back to the joker Robin as I write here in 2018, “Swell, so you’re telling me, Robin, that because you were pissed I wouldn’t go with you to the Pacific in 2014 you impregnated my love Elizabeth’s alternate reality whale self?”
“Bingo! Ha ha! Man, took you 4 years to get that joke. You’re dense as a neutron star, bro,” laughs Robin.
Jeez, I Googled that a teaspoon full of neutron star weighs a billion tons. He sure thinks I am dense stuff!
Speaking of how dense we all are in these Trumpy times, back to 2014, two full years before America lost it’s sense of humor with Trump’s hostile take over of not just the news world but the comedy world.
One time back in 2015, shortly after Robin’s successful rebirth as a blue whale, as Trump began his run for king of the world, Robin told me over coffee – BTW Robin just cups his hand around the mug for its cafine energy – “Trump gonna win and he’s gonna be HILAAARIOUS as the good old USA’s most un-presidential prez ever.”
Boy, was that whale baby right. Trump did beat the unfunny Hillary. And just look at all these comics covering Trump as regular as the weather here in depressing as hell 2018.
But, as master of comedy Robin Williams is now shouting at today’s living comics through my keyboard, putting on a Jewish accent, “Oy vey! Enough, funny people! You’re makingme mashugana! The Trump gags are stale as a two week old bagel! Stop beating a dead whale already! ”
That last message of Robin’s rings so true don’t it? Dozens of comedians riffing on Trump’s every stumble everyday for three friggin’ years stinks like a dead whale stranded on a beach for days. The seagulls picking the carcass apart.
And Robin sadly knows all about dead whales. You see, the busy shipping lanes killed his beloved whale mama in late 2017. Grieving her loss, Robin told me in a vision, on a hike to the Airport vortex, that Mamu’s whale body had washed up on the west coast of Mexico. A few months later, in April of this year, Robin came to me to say his whale life too ended the same way as his poor Mamu.
“Don’t be a bummer, Sheetzorini! Tell your readers not to be blue for the blue whale me!” Robin chirps as I type as fast as man untrained in such can, “The Blue Dolphin Clan gave me the body of one of their brain dead young.”
“How appropriate!” getting a zing in as payback for Robin’s neutron star dig.
Robin pretends not to hear my zinger and goes on, “And I’m ready start teaching the song of joy and laugher to the dolphins now. That is soon as I can figure out where my dolphin dick is. Oh wait. I’m a girl dolphin now. Holy mackerel!”
Pause for reader laughter Robin tells me.
“No problem, the name Robin works for either gender,” I communicate to his spirit, stalling for time to keep up on the keyboard with his rapid fire mind.
“Guess Nanu swings both ways too. Hey, know what we dolphins think of all the media’s fuss over Trump? Ever hear Flipper laugh in that old TV show?” says Robin doing a tail stand in my mind’s eye.
“You mean like this, Robin?” I say digging up a clip.
“Close enough! – Fun fact. Did you know we beautiful and brilliant dolphins were sentient thousands of eons before human’s discovered how to make fucking fire?”
“Gotta admit, like most humans I believe, we’ve always been the brightest species on the planet,” I type communucate.
“Right. Even though humans work themselves to death to get that newest model gas guzzler causing global warming?” Robin dolphin chuckles.
“Yup, Gottta admit I am looking at a new Jeep at the moment.”
“Think Prius, ya noob.”
“Need a Jeep for the 4-wheel drive for the red rocks, shark bait.”
” Touche. Well do some checks on electric that can off road. Pinkie swear? Not that I have one anymore.”
“Fin swear then. Will do, Robin.”
“Nanu, still Nanu please. Good because we dolphins warn…” says Robin/Nanu, trying to sound as ominous as young dolphin can,”..that your species needs to stop worrying about one certain old as fuck human being, no matter how fat, orange and nasty. HUGE waste of time. Time your species doesn’t have, BTW. ”
“Why?” I ask.
“Earth’s oceans are running out of fucking oxygen!”
In shock I do a search mid-blog based on Robin’s dire warning and found this video. If you have 55 minutes it will wise you up in a big way even if the production values are about zilch.
Vindicated about his warning on earth’s diminishing air supply, as well as making me realize how real his visits are, Robin/Nanu grimly continues, “Better you eco-morons focus on saving the oceans, where most of your oxygen is made, than ruminating on how many cheeseburgers Trump can ingest daily without having a coronary!”
Robin/Nanu bitingly goes on, “Be original, human comics. You’re all lazy as fuck. Hello! Comedy 101, you can’t make parodies about of a living one like Trump.”
Nanu Williams rants on, “Get the fuck over the pathetic Trump, funny bones, and get back to your damn job of making people laugh. Save getting political for the biggest joke on the planet… the fucking politicians! Get smart and get the word out earth is running out air instead of spreading hot air. Got it?”
“Got it! Will share, Nanu Williams the blue dolphin!”
“Cool, Kenster. Williams out!”
Well, the you have it, straight from Robin Williams the newly reincarnated blue dolphin Nanu: Trump is officially no longer hilarious.
That’s right. Heart attack by overeating. And not just for Trump, but I get ahead of myself.
Trump’s dangling a cabinet spot before Dr. Ronnie Jackson’s nose smells of coercion for the rigging of the POTUS’s annual physical. No way Trump tips the scales at a hilarious 239 pounds. Lying about health is not healthy for Donald Trump nor America.
Karma, in The Donald’s obese case, could lead to… sing it Billy!
Not wishful thinking on my part. I actually want Trump to live out his term or, God forbid, impeachment. I say “God forbid” because can you imagine the wave of conspiracy theories and hard feelings his impeachment would result in? Seriously, it’s not worth booting Trump IMHO if it reboots The Civil War.
Guys, take it from a man who’s meditated far too long on the meaning of Trump showing up so prominently in our lives, it’s pointless to stress over Trump and his childish antics. Even if he lasts 2 full terms, likely at this point if the economy Obama rebuilt he’s coasting on holds. Heck, that’s less than a blink of an eye in the planet’s 5 billion year life so far. All the drama in the 24/7 news cycle every time he tweets some idiocy is just a big old ratings gimmick.
Let’s take a fear that pops up in various forms in liberal media: “Trump and his “deplorables”( according Trump arch nemesis Hilary) followers are taking us down the road to an American-Nazi regime!” Hello. America practically invented genocide, wiping out millions of Native Americans long before the Nazis were even a twinkle in Hitler’s evil eye.
Look on the bright side: Trump looks to be here to ring out the old and stimulate the new into action. That’s if he does not commit suicide by Mac Attack. Give him this, he’s shinning the light, albeit unintentionally, in dark place of the American psyche that needs healing, all the way back to the founding fathers; many of whom were slave owners.
And speaking of liberal overkill on outrage, shame on Samantha Bee for calling Ivanka the C word. Liberals, since the other side of the political family, currently the bad boys, must lead by example, not play in the same mud as Trump. Bee should be fired IMHO.
And while we are getting real, let’s give equal time to conservative mania in the media. Sorry Trump fans, Jared is not bringing peace to the Middle East, Ivanka is not a champion of women’s rights and no way Trump is to going bully his way to a Nobel in North Korea peace talks. Off as of this post.
Yeah. Let’s all get really real: Liberals and their Trumped up outrage, and Conservatives, placing Trump on a shaky pedestal founded in wishful thinking, are both wrong! I am lucky enough to call a few billionaires friends and I assure you, all are quite mortal and petty at times. Money does not make anyone smart, which Trump exhibits for us daily.
Why on earth would anyone want to emulate Trump in the first place? I mean, the overeating, and oversexed old guy is miserable. And it shows from the Michael Cohen clean up reports that Donald all too often pays big time for his sexcapades. The sad result? Trump’s marriage to Melania is a train wreck.
Cue Melania hand swat video!
Off attacks of the heart and back onto heart attacks. Coronaries are simple eating physics: Fatty foods + lack of exercise = stroke or death by clogged arteries. Next, for good measure, toss in Trump’s severe anger issues (a sad sign of the onset of dementia) into the equation and you wonder why the Don’s not already stroked out and drooling in a presidential wheelchair.
Read more at WebMD about the link of anger to heart attacks.
Heck, want proof Dr. Jackson is likely a big fat liar about Trump’s odds of buying the farm before he can undo all of Obama’s legacy? Look no further than Trump’s 2016 doctor, the eccentric Dr. Bornstein. Currently on the outs with Trump for blabbing about the POTUS using propecia for his bald spot(s). Cosmic justice for letting Trump dictate his own 2016 checkup for the enabling Bornstein.
Election doctor Bornstein confesses that Trump dictated his presidential health report himself.
Now let’s talk about the dozen diet Cokes Trump reportedly drinks daily. Studies show diet drink are bad for the brain and may even cause cancer. Steady use of diet pop can leads to dementia; as this AARP story outlines. The same disorder that killed Regan, Mr. President, if you’re reading. Yeah, right. As if. LOL.
My theory is Trump’s cannot start his workday until 11AM because his health is so feeble that he spends mornings as a couch potato, watching of the GMO of mind control Fox & Friends, while he drifts in and out of slumber. Here’s a short film on Trump’s shortness of breath example that will leave you breathless.
Now that’s a SAD video. Unfortunately, I am something of an expert heart failure symptoms because I landed in the hospital for my wakeup call just 10 weeks ago. All brought on by an overeating contest with my love’s millennial. Still what I downed was organic, nothing approaching Trump’s crazy GMO diet.
Just saying, my recent horrors of the heart give me an edge seeing Trump is on the road to ruin. Let me tell you, dear reader, it’s weird as hell to feel your life’s flame get so low in heart failure that a puff of air could blow out your candle. After my wakeup call, complete with an ER visit, my doctor suggested, along with putting me on 6 medications, that I drop 40 pounds to get in optimal cardio shape. My current weight? I am down to 239 pounds from 247. How’s that for a weird coincidence? Difference is I am a real 239, Trump is not.
Scaling up with how I currently look, fatter than I’ve ever been in my life, just as fat as Trump at 239 pounds, but given he’s 3 inches taller than me, my guess is Trump’s true weight is more like 270- 280. Make your guess in comments below as to #Trumpsrealweight. If we ever learn the truth I’ll send the closest guesser a free CoolestMeditationEver.com t-shirt.
We all know Trump has ego issues. That’s why he’s not seeing he is being bad role model for we already obese Americans. His eating habits are toxic. Here’s great video here of two people feeling ill effects after just one day of eating like Trump.
Urp! Now, fans of my planetary meditations, where I delve deep into the real and imagined worlds, might not know that I’ve earned a living from time to time as a paid political humorist. And I have a hit 2000 PBS show that led into the Bush/Gore debates plus a #1 in it’s niche 2008 Amazon DVD to prove it.
But please take me deadly serious when I warn Trump’s bad eating will, by bad example, kill more Americans than anything else he bumbles or blusters his way through during his troubled presidency, short of nuclear war with the equally out of shape Kim Jong Un. Please, fans and friends, especailly ME!, don’t eat like Trump!
So, what do you think? Should the GOP seek to reign in Trump’s horrible eating habits to save American lives and to preserve their chance for an 8 year run for their man?
OK. I hear you, dear readers, “Get real, Sheetz. Do you really believe a man who must always have two scoops of ice cream with his desert will ever listen to anything but his own stomach?
For years we’ve been hearing whispers that America is intentionally being dumbed down by the 1% who run the planet. If true, whisper time is over. One look at the news on any day at all the stupid shit happening in DC makes it painfully obvious that the dystopian film “Idiocracy” is coming true a lot sooner than 500 years from now.
The President Camacho for this global dumbing down that America leads with a passion formerly reserved for the space race? Who else?
Hey, don’t take my word for about Mr.-I-Herby-Demand-the-DOJ-Investigate-the-Meuler-Investigate’s idocracy., Rex Tillerson aptly, Rex described Trump “a fucking moron.” Lucky for him, Rex lost his job because Trump runs the executive branch like THE APPRENTICE.
Old saying in the Chicago corporate world I grew up in: First-rate people hire first-rate people. Second-rate people hire third-rate people. Exhibit A of a third-rate hire by our second rate president? Saccharin idiot, Education Secretary Besty Devos. Her mission to dumb down our schools is as transparent as her fake smile.
Stupid Trump shit goes on daily that infuriates the left, which in turn agitates the right into hating the left for seeing what they don’t see due to their current stupor of a steady diet of the real fake news on Fox & Friends. This generates a negative feedback loop that is rocket fueled by social media, 4AM Distracter In Chief Tweets, Russian trolls, yes, they are still giving America a taste of its own destabilizing foreign powers medicine, all reported ad nauseam by the Trump crazed 24/7 news cycle.
Talk about disturbing to one’s peace of mind! But, ah, my theory, gained by a lot of reading, watching news and meditation, is that none of this stupid shit is accidental. So why is all the Trump fueled anger mongering?
Back to the 1% who are aware that numerous scientific studies have shown human beings lose 10-15 IQ points when angry. Hello dumbing down of the people by the elite using Trump as their champion of dumb!
Now, that you’ve been clued into secret agenda of the elite using Trump as a wet nurse to birth a race of fools – assuming you believe my theory, which dawned on me in yoga meditation BTW – please turn your back on Trump’s 7-year-old temper tantrums until it’s time to vote. Let’s drive the bad guys nuts with our intelligent indifference.
Meanwhile, as we wait to vote in fall of 2018 and again in 2020, here are some great tips from PSYCHOLOGY TODAY’s a 2011 article, one of the sources researched for this blog post to help you stay cool, and therefore smart. The article, worth your read, talks in detail about anger’s draining effect on IQ.
How to Counteract the Brain Freeze and Gain back your IQ Points – Source PSYCHOLOGY TODAY
1. Give your brain a recess. Think of young kids in school, when the bell rings for recess. They yell and scream with free time. Your mind needs a recess to wander in an unstructured a manner. Often in this recess an idea or solution may emerge to an issue you have been dealing with.
2.Turn off the TV or radio if you aren’t consciously wanting to get news or entertainment. This is so you don’t burn critical brain resources by stimulating a fear response without knowing it.
3. Seed your Unconscious. Give your unconscious instructions to work on an issue in the background as you focus on something else.
4. Clear the deck. Focus on something else for awhile or talk to a friend who is positive to change your sense of overwhelm. Allow the prefrontal cortex and your working memory to recharge.
5. Practice a mindfulness exercise. Focus on your breathing or really stay focused on what you are doing in the moment. Feel your body in space as you sit or move. Meditation, yoga, walking or a massage are ways to allow the prefrontal cortex to recharge gain your IQ points back.
Meditation has the power shape our scary reality into something more pleasant and equitable for humanity. Be smart. Trump’s not worthy of your attention.
I had one of the coolest dreams of my life last night. A true mission from spirit from a happier post war America not to lose hope during these turbulent times.
It’s 1948 and I’m backstage at a New York theater. Stage hands and great actors of the past busily rush past me. I see, Bob Hope, Shirley Temple, James Cagney, Liz Taylor, Bogart and Frank Sinatra.
Frank smiles at me and says, “You’re on, Ken. Knock ’em dead.”
Enjoy some Sinatra on new tab to score this once in a lifetime inspirational dream that;s really meant for us all.
This all seems strange, in the way dreams always do while still perfectly natural at the same time. I adjust my suit, a weird combination of tux top and my old green flannel pajama bottoms. But I have a problem.
“Frank,” I ask nervously, “I gotta find the can. Mind going on for me? You know, hold ’em over while fund the john? Hate to pee myself onstage!”
“For you, kid? Anything!” Frank says with chuckle as he dives through through curtains to thunderous applause.
I timidly ask Bob Hope as he passes by, “Sorry, Bob. Where’s the can?
“Did a spotlight can fall on your head? Cross your damn legs on get onstage!” Bob says pushing me through the curtains.
The crowd gathered below the stage that’s a balcony on 30 Rock that overlooks Time Square (Hey, it’s a dream!), erupts in applause and laughter as I appear from the curtains in tumble that I raise to my feet. Frank, master of the mic, spins toward me and says with his million watt grin, “Better late than never, ladies and gents, I give Ken Sheetz!”
I do a funny curtsey bow the crowd appreciates and take the mic from Frank as he pats me on the back and says pointing at my hilarious getup, “Half dressed after just climbing out of bed, Kenny?’
I explain, “Like my outfit, Frank? The tux my love Elizabeth made for me is hand sewn. The green plaid pajama bottoms are from our Christmas film, where people give cash to the poor instead of junk we all don’t need!”
A standing ovation interrupts me from the good-looking happy crowd, dressed in classy winter garments, including an abundance of mink coats. I turn to Frank with shrug. “You’re slaying ’em. Go on, kid!”
“Apologies for being late. Had to grab a pee before coming out here to you good people!” The crowd goes wild with laughter. I find myself wondering out loud, “Why the heck do people always love a good pee joke?” When I spot Bob Hope in the wings, doing a face plant.
I point to Hope and joke, “Bob, I swear to God, if I pee myself in front of this fine crowd and 30 million people on TV it’s all your fault!” Putty in my comedic hands the crowd belly laughs uproariously.
Bob strides from the wings, Oscar in hand, comically looking jealous as he hands it to me, “The bridesmaid again! They Academy fails once again to give Best Actor to yours truly! But I gotta hand it to you, Sheetz. Great job!”
Franks’s trying to say something, but the laughter and applause of the crowd is so loud that I can’t hear him. So I step for him and lean the mic to hear Frank say in that amazing voice of his…
“Ken’s flick changed a commercially bastardized holiday back to something Jesus would love on his birthday. Kenny deserves way more than an Oscar, he deserves a freaking Nobel!”
Frank kisses me on both cheeks as Hope chimes in, “Huh, kinda like a Noel Nobel, Frank?” Frank nods as he applauds me. The crowd joins in with yet another wild standing ovation just as the “time to get off the Oscar stage music” starts to play softly.
I realize I better get to the “thank yous” pronto, “I want thank all the new friends I made making this film a hit.” I oddly can’t seem to remember the title of the film I suddenly realize to my horror but press on, “I want thank my old friends director Frank Capra, my co-stars Danny Kaye and Jimmy Cagney who gave this film it’s heart and soul.” I gesture to the crowd to see Elizabeth my love blowing me kisses, “Where we would be in life without friends?”
So many loves of my life in the cool crowd I see are waving at me. I go teary eyed spotting relatives who have passed away. “Most of all I want to thank my buddy Frank Sinatra for believing in me and my work. Peace everyone. Merry Christmas and Happy ’49!”
The echo of the joyous crowd still in my ears, I awake in bed and say to Lincoln our rescue dog, tucked away in his bed in our closet, “Wow. What a great dream, little Lincoln!” Lincoln shoots me a puzzled look and goes back to sleep since it’s only sunrise.
I check my cell phone for one of early morning messages Elizabeth‘s been leaving me each day from the Bahama’s, where she’s about 1/3 through a 5 week kirtan/yoga intensive. But. alas, no message. It takes some of the joy out of the dream as she had a freak head injury just 5 days before she left that’s made the whole thing dicey. But I shake it off the nervousness, still feeling she’s well in the field.
Update, I was right. Elizabeth simply overslept and is off to yoga. Time for a cup of java and Saturday yoga myself with Sedona’s amazing Naomi C. Rose!
Hi, my name is Ken Sheetz… and I am a Trumpaholic.
A quick Google search defines addiction as “the fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance, thing, or activity.” And that addictive activity in my case is overdosing on Trump news.
I forgive myself for my strange addiction because we are all living in polarized reality where our media is getting rich as lords pitting liberal versus conservative Americans against one another. Spoon feeding both camp’s deepest and darkest fears about Trump and his followers or opponents.
Admitting your addiction to today’s weaponized media is half the cure, so I’ve complied the following handy questionnaire of Trumpaholic symptoms, from both a liberal and conservative POV. May it shine a humorous light on our new national pass time: Trump.
Do you read Trump’s daily tweets before MSBC, CNN, Etc. can report what a horrible president Trump is? Or do so before Fox and Breitbart can report what an amazing genius super stable president Trump is? All in an endless electronic circle jerk of full employment for the makers of the news and comedy?
Further down the Trump rabbit hole, do you tweet-troll Trump as villain on his POTUS page? Or do you take up your mighty PC as sword to do Twitter battle with the sanctimonious lyin’ Comey fans to defend Trump the hero/king? Either way, the odds favor that you are having a flame war with a Twitter bot or Russian troll farm employee whose full job it is to sow hatred between we Yanks.
Do you follow the ups and downs of Trump’s cabinet and family like a soap opera, or better reality show, but one where the stakes are life and death for us all in hail of nuclear bombs sending us all back to the Stone Age?
Does Trump news, bad or good, raise your blood pressure? No shame. Love or hate Trump, adrenaline has no political affiliation. Liberal or conservative the media both sell fear and fear causes adrenaline levels to rise. They know the adrenaline buzz hooks you. Trump news addiction is great for ratings.
Do you dream or daydream of advising Trump? Maybe turning his contreversial presidency into a new Camelot to bigly surpass JFK’s?– Get real, my fellow Trump junkie. Trump listens to no one but his own bathroom mirror’s reflection.
Are you sometimes jealous Trump was born with a silver spoon in his mouth? Might you stew that no matter how many times he ruins a business he just files for bankruptcy and bounces right back with that smug grin on his face some of us love or hate?
Are you the secret sorcerer who uses Trump memorabilia to cast potent magic spells that have cursed Trump’s presidency? Hopefully you don’t live in Salem. Or are you a gung ho convert, once a Hippie, but now you proudly wear your MAGA hat, following Trump on the road like a Dead Head to his fevered rallies that started 2.75 years ahead of the normal election cycle? If so, feel free to skip the rest of this test and immediately take the Trumpaholic oath below in the comments below.
Are you jealous you cannot hop aboard your private Presidential Boeing 747 on a whim, an army FBI agents and your more trusted private bodyguards in tow, then wing way to your Mar-A-Logo Florida palace to golf and hobnob with the super rich and world leaders? Pardon my WTF! But from both a liberal or conservative we need unite if just to put a cap on this taxpayer abuse.
Do you secretly wish you too could whisper sweet alternate realities to your loyal voter base who happily let slide the 2,000 sweet little lies that Trump racked up his first year in office? Liberal or conservative, you gotta admit Trump makes Teflon look like a porous substance.
Do you steal time from your job to sneak a quick rubberneck on your Mac or PC on the latest Trumpsaster, as though the fate of world depends on your knowing what he just Tweeted at 4AM from his golden toilet?
Afterwards, as a Trump chaser, do you annoy all your friends on FB posting the latest doom and gloom story from CNN on how Trump is going to: A. Cause a nuclear war with North Korea, Russia and/or China, B. Inspire a new race of Nazi bullies to take over America and appoint Trump as lifetime Fuhrer, C. Start an American Civil War (Hmm. Most of us don’t care enough to vote and we should worry about a Civil War?), D. Name a KKK member to the Supreme Court, E. Add any number of dark scenarios that your favorite niche news source feeds you, giving you ulcers and high blood pressure. If conservative, flip A though E over.
Have you lost a boatload of FB friends crusading either for or against Trump? With any luck, the so called friends you lost are the same idiots dragged you into the Cambridge Analytica mess.
Does your stomach growl as you pass your local fat factory, AKA McDonald’s, secretly wishing you could stuff your face with cheese burgers and fires daily in bed watching Fox & Friends reruns of your triumphs? All washed down by a dozen diet Cokes like Trump, and the still only tip the scales at a fit 239 due to your great genes! Or are you’re a health nut, repulsed by the mountains of cholesterol he ingests that would normally kill a horse, while you gain a pound even smelling a single french fry?
Have you’ve chuckled, or downright belly laughed, at viral videos of Trump on the tarmac, his combover flying at half mast? Or have you scorned liberals’ cruelty to dare to laugh at your hero desperately trying to look 20 years younger than his true senior self with his amazing comb over; one that keeps him busy half the day?
Have you ever compared your hand size to Trump’s? Be honest. Or does it annoy you how low desperate liberals are to dare attack your hero for his modest hand size and conversely penis size?
Do you want lock Hillary or Trump up? Or maybe put them both in adjoining cells?
Do you boo or cheer when Mueller appears in the news with his endless Russia probe or raid of a Trump crony, while you wish he would just get it the hell over with already?
Have you begun a Hail Mary of hope that a porn star might bring down Trump? Or do you agree with Trump’s mouthpiece Giuliani Stormy not half as hot as Melania and could not possibly have had the affair he had Michael Cohen pay $130K with his own money to cover up? If you are the latter please write me off the blog as I have a great deal on the Brooklyn bridge to sell you shares in.
Are you are studying Russian just in case the rumors that Trump’s a Putin puppet are true? Or do you get outraged over “The Russia, Russia Witch hunt” persecution of Trump by our “corrupt” FBI, who are secretly SPYGATE stooges to the those sneaky scumbag Democrats Trump hired who pretend to be Republicans?
Have you bought Comey’s new tell-all book and all the others popping up on Amazon like weeds on the Whitehouse lawn, to read or burn them?
Are you up on the latest conspiracy theories about the Deep State looking to bump off the Trump like the sneaky bastards did to JFK?
Does your brain hurt trying to ethically rationalize Trump’s affairs with porn stars and Playboy models while you find all the scandals vindication for how sleazy you always knew the Trumpster was? Or do you rage at your TV like a poor man’s Alex Jones at the sneaky liberals planting fake affairs #metoo left and right?
Do you want to free Melania or worry she vanishes from time to time and secret missions for her man? Or do you realize hers and Trump’s was likely an open marriage from the get-go?
Do you watch the bevy of comedians do a daily pile on of every Trump stumble in this marathon of shadenfreude; the German name for joy from other people’s misery? Trump’s become a cottage industry for comics. To name a few: Colbert, Noah, Maher, Fallon (late comer), Badlwin, Conan, Bee, Kimmel, and Oliver. I confess some days at the peak of my addiction I’d watch all the comics back to back. Like death by a thousand comedy cuts, they add up to days of wasted time I’ll never get back.
Last, if you have read this far it likely means and answered yes to any question you too are a Trumpaholic. Welcome to Trumpaholics Anonymous!
Now, before you run off in huff about my calling you a Trump addict after we just electronically met, don’t blame yourself. Love or hate him, the Donald is the unquestioned all-time champ for hogging the media spotlight for liberals and conservatives alike. Trump is a Jackson Pollock-like political artist.
On any given day, Trump might toss a splash of red collusion denial across his Twitter canvas, followed by gush of Stormy blue porno scandal, a dash of sunny yellow clown-like lawyers, then finish it all off with a gloop of WITCH HUNT! orange. And before the paint has dried Trump’s onto his next Pollock-like masterpiece.
Meantime, the mass media, comic and straight, liberal and conservative alike, broadcasts everyone of Trump’s crazy “tweet paintings”, pre-packaging what we Trumpaholics should think depending on the shade of our political box they jam us into. Truth is, today’s mass media is not so much “fake news” — a Trump trademark — as hopelessly niched.
Our shark media can never stop swimming and micro-judging everything Trump says or does. Lazy reporters pretend they love or hate what Trump tweets. But if they are honest with themselves, most know journalistic integrity died decades before Trump took the political spotlight.
Remember the Bush era? That’s when media first saw after 911 that fear can fuel the 24/7 news cycle. And presto the media became compliant in the whole WMD scam to launch the Iraq War and embed journalists to bring the horrors to your living room.
After years of Orange Alerts and no sign of WMDs, the American people finally got wise to the media broadcasting Bush’s fear tactics and news ratings fell. How then, the MBA’s pondered, to generate fresh fear mongering for maximum profit? And viola, depending on whether you’re a young gun toting pickup truck driver or an old tree hugger granola eater, Trump was crafted into a demon or angel. All broadcast on a newscast perfectly tailored to scare the living shit out of you.
Too much of anything, good or bad, is unhealthy. Americans have never seen anything as ridiculous and the 24/7 media circus that ruminates over every Trump act and tweet. So I invite you to join me on this blog in cutting way back on Trump news and news in general until we are given more truth. Face it Mass media is so conflicted it will never give us break. So we have to make one ourselves
In closing, you have a lot to gain watching lots less Trump news. Join me. You will feel lifted. Buh-lieve me!
Note: Before you comment below I’d love it if you’d please write: Hello. My name is _______________ and I am a Trumpaholic. Trolls, human or robotic, will be cheerfully escorted from the blog premises.
There’s a lot of darkness in the world these days. We can’t seem to catch a break from Trump’s scandals and horrors. So good dreams are most welcome, and I want to share a big one to shine some love and light that came my way like a bolt out of the blue yesterday.
In my dream I see a distant giant domed structure much like the one in DC but this one is topped with a slender shaft of light that pokes from the mists against a gorgeous sky. Fascinated, I will myself to fly to the dome. I land beneath the magical dome. The color palate of the amazing building is pure whites and pale golds.
My love Elizabeth is at my side dressed as a Greek warrior goddess. We are accompanied by our little rescue dog Lincoln, who at my request transforms into a white dragon. He and Elizabeth stand guard for our visit to this power place as I do my meditation.
I reach my hand up toward the gold encrusted dome ceiling. I gently will the shaft of light to me. It gracefully descends to become a staff that’s pointed at both ends, almost like a spear. I take hold of the staff, feeling a thrill of freshness and light.
Our mission accomplished Lincoln returns to his Chihuahua form and we all vanish before we are noticed.
I sit up in my Sedona bed, still in a light trance. I thrill to the feel the 6 foot long staff made of pure white energy. It pulses with vitality in my grip. I realize it’s made of solid energy, as real as the desk I am writing this blog from in the wee hours of Sedona.
Then I hear a sweet but powerful familiar female ET voice I’ve not heard since she gave me the mission for the Antarctica meditations of 2012! Madame Chairwoman of the Galactic Council’s voice echoes in my mind, “Commander Sheetz, it’s good to finally reach you! There is much corruption on your world seeking to halt the shift. Use this staff — named for a sister planet Hipacrin, which survived the same madness that now grips your blue world — as a tool. A gift from the Galactic Council to help bring forth the new era.”
I offer thanks, but the ruler of Galactic Council almost sheepishly adds. “However, to wield this staff — made of pure energy from your North Pole — in planetary meditations, you will need to give up the eating of meat.”
I worry because I’ve tried to be vegetarian three years ago and failed, but I nod my agreement to try to give up eating meat once again.
“Farewell for now then, Commander Sheetz. And remember no meat or the staff of Hipacrin will cease to exist.”
Elizabeth sees me sitting on the edge of the bed and I tell her about this first DreamShield vision in over a year. Our little dog wakes too and now our mission trio is happily reunited in the 3D world. While we cuddle play with Lincoln, still afraid of me in real life, I tell Elizabeth of how I must give up meat to use the staff. She pulls me into a loving kiss. A real-life goddess, Elizabeth has been wanting us to go vegetarian almost from she came to join me in Sedona two years ago. So this is a happy morning.
Thus far I’ve gone my first 36 hours without meat quite easily. And I’ve already done several powerful planetary meditations with the new white staff of Hipacrin. I am seeing visions of it shattering holds of the dark energy on the shift already. A better day is coming!
If you follow the blog you know, the ETs have been telling me for years that we humans will never evolve to our highest selves if we kill and eat out fellow earth creatures. I hope you’ll join me in at least trying to give up meat. We need to change something in the equation. A lot of us quietly giving up meat cannot be controlled by the dark status quo.
Yes, abstaining from meat is the white staff of power we can all take up and reduce pollution of world both physically and spiritually. But however it turns out for any us seeking to kick our meat addiction, no regrets!
I just read Michael Wolff’s FIRE AND FURY tell-all. I give it 4 stars. For me, the biggest moral shocker is Wolff’s claim the president of our country takes pride in seducing other men’s wives.
But just I was finishing the book along came the Stormy Daniels scandal!
Something of a personal and professional confession, I met Stormy Daniels myself in 2006, four years before my 2010 awakening. After three years in Hollywood and not yet producing a hit for my investors, I was desperate to win the good graces of my Chicago backers when along came a top ten ranked line-producer in Hollywood. He had the unlikely idea of making a PG-rated reality show for a mainstream TV audience about the behind the scenes world of Wicked Pictures featuring Stormy’s efforts to become a legit director and invited me to be his producer partner. The chance to work with one of Hollywood’s top producers, a recognized genius, was too tempting so I got on board as a producer and began talks with Wicked Pictures.
Weeks later, I reported to my executive producer that it was clear from my preliminary talks with Stormy and the CEO of Wicked Pictures that these renegade porn pros would never accept the waivers and censoring required to make a clean show out of a dirty business. And, well, I was more than relieved when my report nipped the show I felt dubious about in the bud.
So it felt mighty strange for me to have Stormy be my sixth degree of separation connection to Trump. When I interviewed Stormy in 2006, a strong, sexy and charismatic business woman, I was thankful for the angels watching over me that kept the nature of my connection professional. Whereas, Trump supposedly had sexual relations with Stormy that she described in salacious detail in an IN TOUCH article, effectively making the Trump presidency NC-17 rated.
A fitting end to a tumultuous year one for a man in far over his head morally and intellectually as our shameless president. One has to wonder: How far can the Christian right bend before breaking away from Trump or breaking itself?
To think only one year ago I was in DC with my love and partner Elizabeth England for the inauguration, fearing the worst but hoping for the best for Trump’s presidency. Unfortunately, the worst has happened. Now we set the intention in our meditations for all the darkness coming forth to be converted to light to usher in a golden era of ethics and good conscience in American politics. And the sooner the better.
One of the main things I love about Gene Roddenberry timeless Star Trek is its view of Utopian future where greed and racism no longer rule humanity. Trek and all it’s predecessors were not afraid to take on big social issues of their time.
It’s in that tradition I’ve written A STAR TREK PARODY – TRUMP MIND MELD.
Enjoy, share and “live long and prosper.” – Ken Sheetz
The USS Enterprise glides through the stars, passing a huge asteroid. We hear the familiar voice of Captain Kirk.
“Captain’s Log, stardate 2264.2. The Enterprise is accelerating to time travel warp speed on a journey to the eve of World War III. All in the hopes of altering the timeline and averting the loss of billions of human lives.”
We join Kirk in his cabin, feet propped up on his desk, dictating to the ship’s computer.
“What the outcome of such a drastic timeline shift will be for our own time, the 23rd Century, is anyone’s –”
A knock on the cabin door stops Kirk’s log dictation. Annoyed, he says, “Enter.”
A troubled Spock steps through the pneumatic doorway. A fidgety Dr. McCoy right behind him.
Before McCoy can speak Kirk cuts him off, “Save it, Bones. Spock and I are dead set on this mission to 21st century America and that’s all there is to it.”
“Damnit, Jim! As ship’s doctor I hereby file my formal complaint you’re ignoring grave dangers to Spock’s sanity when he melds with Trump the Mad Dictator.”
“Captain, I assure you I am quite ready for this mind meld,” Spock says.
“Spock, you’re a bigger idiot than Trump if you can’t see the man has to have a mind to perform a mind meld!”
“Gentlemen, must I call security to escort you back to your quarters?” says Kirk, hiding a smile.
“No need, Captain. The doctor is just being his normal illogical and most annoying self,” Spock says.
“Bones, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the… Trump?” say Kirk, making a lame joke no one laughs at.
McCoy throws up his hands in disgust.”Well, if you two ‘very stable geniuses’ want to roll the dice on Spock’s sanity and the very existence of Star Fleet, who I am to stop you?!”
Dr. McCoy spins on his heels and exits Kirk’s cabin in a huff.
MESSY MESS HALL
A short time later in the mess hall Kirk pulls a Mac Jr. and french fries from the food replicator and places them before Spock saying, “I present Trump’s favorite food: The Big Mac.”
“Incorrect, Captain. If I may, what you have placed before me is in fact a Mac Jr.”
Kirk arches an eyebrow and says, “A Mac what?”
“Junior. Indeed, Captain. This is a smaller version of Trump’s favorite choice of sustenance – the Grand Mac. It features a single 1/6 pound patty as opposed to the double 1/10 pound patties featured what you have mistaken as a Big Mac. The Grand Mac offers an astounding two 1/6 pound patties and was in fact believed to be Trump’s Mac of choice. ”
“Spare me the niceties of scale, Spock. Nutritional analysis.”
Spock passes his beeping his tricorder over the Mac Jr.,”Most peculiar, Captain.”
“This Mac Jr. has nearly zero nutritional value, by 23rd century standards of course. Therefore, we can deduce this factor is a zero constant regardless of scale. Worst of all, the Mac is filled with enough grease molecular matter to clog the ship’s drainage system,” says Spock shoving the Mac Jr. away in disgust.
“Sorry. Eat it, Spock. If you’re going to mind meld with Trump you must eat as he does.”
“Captain, there must be some other way to alter my vibratory frequency than this, this poison! A person would have to be insane to…”
“Exactly. I swear to you, Spock. Our archeologists say this was Trump’s actual daily diet. Hey, it could be worse. Think what you’d be eating if I knew about the Grand Mac.”
Spock takes a nervous bite of the Mac Jr. and his eyes go wide in horror. “Is this real meat, Captain?”
“Sort of,” says Kirk as he sniffs the Big Mac.
“But I am vegetarian, sir, as all Starfleet is”
“Well…Try the French fries, Spock.”
Spock shudders, downing a fry whole without chewing. He coughs.
“You look greener than usual, Mr. Spock,” says Kirk, laughing at his own joke.
Spock cracks a rare smile and says, “Permission to vomit, sir.”
Spock projectile vomits all over Kirk.
“Permission granted?” says Kirk, his face dripping Big Mac and fries.
“Apologies, sir. This Mac Jr. of your past is most toxic.”
“Caught me off guard with your rare smile, Spock.”
“Sorry, Captain. On Vulcan a smile often warns of eminent expulsion.”
“OK, this concludes our 21st century dietary experiment,” says Kirk as he wipes vomit from his eyes.
“It’s a wonder Trump survived the Mac assortment where he’s obsessively, ugh, consume all three plus fries and a shake. Shows me not to underestimate President Trump,” says Spock as he helps clean off Kirk.
A short time later a cleaned up Kirk is perched in his captain’s chair. The viewing screen on the command deck beeps and boops as the ship buffets through layers of crystalline rainbows.
Kirk spins his command chair to Spock at the science station, “Glad to see you’re not smiling, Mr. Spock. Report.”
Spock, his eyes aglow from a personal view screen. says,”Undoubtedly a convergence point of timelines reaching epic proportions,”
“A clusterfuck of timelines,” says Kirk to Spock’s dazed look. “21st century slang, Mr. Spock.”
“Ah, yes, clusterfuck of timelines. Affirmative, Captain.”
Scotty bellows over the ship’s intercom, causing Kirk to almost spill his coffee, “Timeline turbulence! It be tearin’ our wee ship ta bits, Captain! I canna — ”
“Hold her together, Scotty. Blah, blah, blah,” says Kirk, bored with Scotty’s typical bellyaching.
“Meeting Trump the Mad Dictator already got you off your game, Jim?” teases Dr. McCoy.
At last the battered Enterprise exits a red-colored rip in space and glides into orbit over the USA.
“The Enterprise has successfully entered 21st century earth-space, Captain.”
“How can you be so sure, Spock?”
“Confirmation from the Twitter-verse. Trump’s virtual realm,” says Spock.
“Please be more precise, Spock.”
“Picking up news chatter on their primitive newscasts that — ”
“Correction ‘fake news’, Spock. Speak Trumpese.”
“Duly noted, Captain. The precise time is January 11th 2018 at 11:11 PM Eastern Clusterfuck time,” says Spock.
“Ah. Three months before Trump’s preemptive nuclear strike on North Korea. Excellent work, Spock,” says Kirk. “You get a raise.”
Spock reacts in puzzlement, “A raise? To where?”
“Um, when we reach Trump you best leave the talking to me,” says Kirk with proud smirk.
“With pleasure, sir.”
Chekov pipes in, “Captain Kirk, vith all due respect, sir. Vee Vould have much better chance of success approaching the Russian who runs Trump… Putin.”
“We’ve been over the timeline computations a thousand times, Mr. Chekov. Trump has a far more suggestive mind for melding than Putin’s.”
“On that we can agree,” says McCoy.
Sulu palms his forehead, “But, sirs. Historical records report Trump’s acting like a fool was just that, an act! Truth is Trump is a mental giant who will crush — Uh, sorry Mr. Spock. No offense intended.”
“Clusterfuck you, Mr. Sulu,” says Spock. Kirk rolls his eye in disgust.
“History shows Trump was, ‘like, wherry smart’,” adds Chekov in his thick Russian.
“‘A very stable genius!'”says Sulu, spinning from the navigation consel.
Bones goes refaced and says, “Keep your damn eyes on the screen, Sulu! You and Chekov have been hoodwinked by 200 years of propoganda and myth surrounding Trump the so-called Great. Ha. Great fat ass, is more like it!”
“Who can blame them, Doctor? History is always written by the clusterfucking victors,” offers Spock, proudly eying Kirk who looks down in to his coffee to avoid Spock’s eye contact.
“Bones’ son, a highly skilled timeline archeologist, has determined the so-called genius Trump the Great was in fact barley literate and a, um…” says Kirk trailing off.
“Moron?” says McCoy with grin as he catches up to Kirk and Spock heading for the ship’s turbolift.
“I was going to say “fucking moron’, like his Secretary of State Tillerson called him,” says Kirk.
“Do you not meaning clusterfucking moron, Captain.”
“You’re overdoing it with the cluster thing, Spock. Fucking is sufficient.”
“Sounds like you could give my son a run for the money on timeline trivia, Jim.” says McCoy as they reach the turbolift.
“Sorry, Bones. Need you to stay aboard in command in case anything happens to me and Spock,” says Kirk as he tugs his top off to prep for a quick costume change.
“Damnit, Jim. I’m a doctor. Not nursemaid to a presidential idiot. So I am sending Nurse Oberon in my place. She’s waiting for you in the transporter room. And, Jim, You and Trump are more alike than you know, keep it in your pants for a change,” says McCoy as the elevator door to the turbolift closes on Kirk’s annoyed face.
BEAM ME TO HELL, SCOTTY
Spock and Kirk enter the teleporter room. Scotty, so busy flirting with the gorgeous Nurse Oberon, a voluptuous green-skinned Orion, that he misses the entrance of the Captain; dressed as Men in Black FBI. Spock’s disguise is a 21st century Trump fan, hilariously complete down to his pot belly and red MAGA hat.
“Captain on deck!” says Spock, annoyed at Scotty.
Scotty and Nurse Oberon snap to attention. “Captain, Mr. Spock, may I present Nurse Oberon. She’s fluent in 21st century American.”
“And why is that, Nurse Oberon?’ says Kirk as he takes her slender green hand and shakes it a bit too long.
“I’m one quarter human. My grandmother was abducted from a Trump rally by the Orions for psychological study shortly after the completion of the wall,” says Nurse Oberon, her siren voice naturally heart-melting.
“Ah yes, the famed wall with Mexico. One of Trump’s few campaign promises he kept resulting in his reelection in 2020,” notes Spock, oblivious to Nurse Oberon’s charms.
“Not quite, Mr. Spock. It was Trump’s second wall project, the one with Canada in 2022 where my Grandmother was taken,” coos Nurse Oberbon, stunned she has no effect on the Vulcan.
“What precise phycological condition were the Orions seeking to understand in examining your grandmother?” says Spock dryly.
“Granny never wavered in her faith in Trump, despite his single handily triggering Word War III, the abolishment of the FBI, the end of a free press, the Great Depression of 2020, and over 100,000 fact checked lies he told while in office,” says Nurse Oberon.
“An impressive record of Trump’s laying waste to earth, but that still does not answer my question about why the Orions were interested in your grandmother,” says Spock challengeningly.
“You see, the Orions sought to understand Trump’s hold on my granny and thereby core Trump supporters who never wavered backing Trump even as all of America’s major cities were turned to cinders, ” coos Nurse Oberon reaching, takubg iand stroking Spock’s Vulcan ears, “Oh, I can already see have to be very sharp with you, Mr. Sexy Ears,”
“Save it, Nurse Oberon. Spock is immune to your considerable charms,” says Kirk.
“Captain, may I have a word with you in private?” says Spock.
“By all means,” says Kirk, amused Nurse Oberon has shaken up the Vulcan.
Kirk and Spock step into the hallway as Nurse Oberon finishes applying flesh colored makeup to hide her green skin and pulls a frumpy dress over her Star Fleet uniform.
“Captain, I most uncomfortable about Nurse Oberon’s selection for this away team.”
“I see that, Spock,” jokes Kirk.
“Jim, please take me seriously. Given the nurse’s ancestry she is highly susceptible to the charms of Donald J. Trump,” says Spock.
“My gut tells me she’ll do just fine. Let’s go. Trump only sleeps 4 hours a night,” says Kirk, leading a reluctant Spock back into the teleporter room.
Spock steps onto the teleporter pad beside Nurse Oberon’s and the Captain’s pads.
Nurse Oberon complains, “Why must my silly old outfit be so dreadfully dull? Aren’t my assets an asset for handling Trump?”
“Aye. Blame me, lass. The mission is too important to allow distractions for the Captain,” jokes Scotty with a wink to the Captain.
The Vulcan examines his red Make America Great Again hat, “If we succeed, Captain. Perhaps America shall in fact be great again.”
“It’s all comes down to you, Spock. You must plant the fear within Trump’s warped mind that a war with North Korea ends in his impeachment for abuse of war powers.”
“Captain, I find it deeply disturbing that your ancestors saw fit to entrust your president, a single human, and in this case a highly unstable one, with the power to press a button and start a thermal nuclear war,” observes Spock.
Kirk shrugs flirtatiously to Nurse Oberon and says to Scotty, “Energize.”
Once the trio de-materealize Scotty pulls out a Grand Mac and takes a huge bite. He rolls his eyes in ecstasy.
“Damnit, Scotty. Those things can kill a horse,” says bones from the view screen.
“Aye, Doctor. But this horsey will die happy!”
TRUMP MIND MELD
Kirk, Spock and Nurse Oberon silently materialize in a dark corner of Trump’s bedroom.
The trios eyes go wide watching Trump stuff his face with a Grand Mac, all at once. Still, the president furiously tweets,“Wolff’s book is just more fake…..”
Kirk whispers, “Fire –“.
Nurse Oberon stuns Trump mid tweet and he slumps to the bed, doing a face plant.
“Why did you stun Trump, Nurse Oberon?”
“You did say ‘fire’, Jim,” says Spock.
“I was commenting that the book FIRE AND FURY that he’s so angry about.”
“Oopsie,” says Nurse Oberon.
“It seems we are most cluster-fucked, Captain,” groans Spock.
“Fucked is sufficient, Spock. Wish Trump had finished his tweet before Nurse Oberon stunned him.” says Kirk.
“Not to worry, Captain. Trump was known to tweet erratically, sometimes not continuing a tweet for up to several hours. And of course there was the famed Covfefe tweet.”
Nurse Oberon struggles to get the president onto his back and says, “The prez weighs a ton! He needs air! Help me turn him!”
“239 pounds my ass!” grunts Kirk helping turn Trump.
It takes all three of the away team to flip Trump onto his back. At which point he begins to choke on his Grand Mac.
“Help him, Spock!”
“Captain, if I may be so bold. Might not our mission be better completed if we do nothing?”
“No one would doubt death by Big Mac,” says Nurse Oberon.
“Correction, Nurse Oberon. Grand Mac. You McDonalds USA –”
“Spock. Knock off the tri-Mac story,” grunts Kirk.
“Are you two always like this on away missions?” giggles Nurse Oberon.
Trump gags, eyes rolling into his orange face.
“Nurse, you do realize you are addressing two senior officers?” says Spock testily.
“Wait! I get it!” giggles Nurse Oberon.
“The only get I want to hear is let’s get on with this mission,” grumps Kirk.
“Don’t you see it, Captain? Spock is Gay for you!” shouts Nurse Oberon before Spock muffles her wild laugh with his free hand.
“I warned you of this Captain. Nurse Oberon is already subconsciously working to, ahem, rescue Trump, says Spock. “I estimate if we let him go on choking Trump will expire in 60 seconds.”
“Too big a hole in the timeline to let Trump meet his maker with Mac attack,” says Kirk, watching Trump turning blue.
“Very well then, ” say Spock as he yanks Trump into the Heimlich maneuver. Trump coughs his Grand Mac into Kirk’s face and gasps for air.
“The Mac of any scale is indeed your nemesis, Captain.”
“Stop stalling. Mind meld time, Mr. Spock.”
The door handle jangles. Kirk points to Nurse Oberon, “You’re on!”
Nurse Oberon pulls off her dress and climbs naked atop Trump just as Don Jr. enters.
“Kinky, Pops! Love the green body paint, babe! I leave you two love birds it!” says Don Jr. making a quick exit.
“Now, Spock, before First Lady Melania shows up!” says Kirk.
“My computations show there is only a one in 10,056.75 percent chance of that happening, sir. The two divorced just a few –”
Nurse Oberon and Kirk groan in unison, “Spock.”
“Sorry. I shall begin then. Silence please. I wish to return from this meld with all my marbles I believe is the 21st century slang for –”
“SPOCK!” shout Kirk and Nurse Oberon in unison.
Spock places his fingers over Trump’s head. “Sir! It’s real!”
“I am sure, Spock. His mind must be a real sivv of larceny and deceit!”
“No, sir. I’ve not melded yet. His famed fake hair. It’s real!” says Spock roughing up Trump orange hair. “Granted the orange color is not –”
“Spock, are you sure you are up for this mission?” says Nurse Oberon sweetly as she puts her dress back on.
Spock adjust his fingers over Trump’s right temple,”My mind to your –” Spock winces in pain.
“What is it Spock?!” says Kirk.
“Trump… Much… difficulty…never encountered such… an unfocused… mind… Must go deeper…” say Trump and Spock in unison.
Nurse Oberon monitors the condition of both Trump and Spock. She reports to Kirk, “Pulse rate up by 50% already! Call off the meld or we lose them both.”
Spock and Trump speak as one,”Only focus seems to be… composing Tweets about Bannon the traitor… absolutely no thoughts on… matters of state.”
“Go deeper, Spock. There must be some way to reach Trump,” says Kirk.
“Pulse rate up 77%!” reports Nurse Oberon.
Tears pour from Trump and Spock as they speak as one,”Daddy… why don’t you love me?”
Inside the foggy mind of Trump, Spock watches as Fred Trump yanks young Donald’s nose to a stack of money. “You see this pile of cash?”
“Um , yeah,” says little Trump.
“Money is all that matters in life. Cash is king, you worthless brat!” shouts Fred Trump. Spock steps behind Fred Trump and does the Vulcan nerve pinch. Fred Trump falls to floor and little Trump screams.
“Alien! You killed my daddy!” says little Trump.
“He’s fine, young Donald, none of this is real. See I can make myself your age,” says Spock shrinking himself to little Trump’s size.
“Wait. I can read your mind! Cool! Your name is Spock?” says Young Trump.
“Correct. Our minds are as one, Donnie.” says Spock reassuringly.
“Spock. Huh. Crummy name. I’ll call you Spocko! My turn to play the daddy game!” says Trump growing to adult size while Spock shrinks to kid-size.
The surroundings morph into Spock’s childhood home on Vulcan. Sarek, Spock’s father passes young Spock who is weeps in a hallway, “Tears? You’re no Vulcan.”
“Hey, big shot. Stop being so mean to my pal Spocko!” says Trump and blows a hole through Sarek with a sizzling phaser beam. Sarek falls to the floor at young Spock’s feet, a steaming mess.
Young Spock gawks at Donald Trump the hole in his dead father’s chest. A begrudging smile steals of young Spock’s face.
Meanwhile, back in the real world of Trump’s presidential bedroom:
“Pulse rate 150%!” says Nurse Oberon to Kirk’s glare. “Well… it is.”
Kirk whispers in Trump’s ear, “President Trump, history has given you a great responsibility. Billions will die if you continue to escalate –”
Trump and Spock shout in unison at Kirk, “You think I give a flying fuck what happens to the world? I have my fallout shelter all set up with all the champagne and broads a man could ever want! It’s the greatest bomb shelter of all time. And anyone can join me down there for only $10 million a head.”
“What’s $10 million going to be worth when the world’s a nuclear wasteland, Trump?” says Kirk yanking Trump to his face by his silk pajamas.
“A lot! As the world population shrinks my market share gets even more biggly. I’m gonna live the lux life with the new Trump-acaplyse 24/7 reality show!” say Trump and Spock laughing madly in unison. “Bye bye Alec Baldwin, Stephen Colbert and all the other losers drafting off my fame! Nuked!”
“Bones was right.. His mammoth narcissistic ego makes doomed this mission from the get-go. Abort the mind mend, Spock!” shouts Kirk directly into Spock’s pointy ear.
No reaction from Trump and Spock, except a snide chuckle from the mind melded pair.
Spock breaks a sweat as he struggles to say, “Can’t fight him, Captain. Trump is accessing… my memory of Star Fleet history.”
Trump/Spock smirks at Kirk, “Cool, lotsa of inventions in this Vulcan skull I’ll take credit for!”
Kirk shakes Spock by the shoulders and shouts in his face,”Fight him, Spock!”
Without warning Spock backhands Kirk and sends him flying into a gold gilded wall.
“Like that for fighting? Haha! Sorry, Kirk, can’t give you your first officer back. Spocko’s Trump property now!” gloats Trump.
Kirk manages to stumble to his feet and says, “Nurse Oberon. Set Phaser to kill and execute Trump.”
Nurser Oberon obeys the captain and takes aim at Trump.
“Baby, shoot Kirk and you’re my new First Lady,” says Spock and Trump in mind meld unison.
“What can I say I love a good three way?” Nurse Oberon switches her aim to Captain Kirk.
Screaming through the pain Spock miraculously breaks the mind meld and Vulcan nerve pinches the green goddess to dream land.
“Spock, you saved the day!” grins Kirk.
Faster than one could ever imagine for such a fat bastard, Trump picks up the Nurse’s phaser and disintegrates Kirk.
“Jim!” weeps Spock.
“Fuck the smarmy asshole. With the 23rd century tech in your head we have a galaxy to conquer, Spocko!”
“Granny, I see what you saw!” shouts Nurse Oberon as she pulls Trump and Spock into bed.
“Hold on a sec you two, Gotta grab a Viagra!” Trump paddles off the the bathroom stepping through Kirk’s dust pile.
Unable to wait for Trump, Nurse Spock’s pants down and her eyes go wide. “Mister Spock! You are most certainly not Gay!”
Spock sweeps Nurse Oberon onto his hips and she moans in ecstasy.
Out of sight in the bathroom Trump bellows, tossing tolietries through the doorway in a panic, “Damn you, Melania for hiding my Viagra again! #COCK BLOCKER!”
Spock and Oberson laugh quietly as they make love like it’s the Pon Farr!
OUTTER RIM OF THE GALAXY
“Captain’s Log, stardate 2264.2. The Enterprise is accelerating to time travel speed on a journey to the eve of World War III. All in the hopes of altering the timeline and averting the loss of billions of human lives.”
We join Kirk in his cabin, feet propped up on his desk, dictating to the ship’s computer.
“What the outcome of such a drastic timeline shift for our own time, the 23rd Century, is anyone’s –”
A knock on the cabin door stops Kirk’s log dictation. Annoyed, he says, “Enter.”
A troubled Spock steps through the pneumatic doorway. A fidgety Dr. McCoy right behind him.
Before McCoy can speak Kirk cuts him off, “Save it, Bones. I’ve decided Spock mind meld should be with Kim Jung-Un instead of Trump,” says Kirk walking to his portal window.
“Well, hallelujah. What on earth made you come to your senses?” says McCoy with a
Kirk is as silent, gazing out the portal.
“Jim?” say Spock, forgetting rank in the confusion.
Kirk points at a massive asteroid with a laser inscription burned into it’s side. Spock and Bones gawk, reading the phaser carved asteroid’s mile high message:
WARNING! ABORT TRUMP MIND MELD! LOVE, SPOCK
End of This Clusterfuck Timeline
Update 3/6/18.: Could Kirk’ & Spock’s second mind meld mission be working?