AnalogRegression

Hey that's mine

I think it's in the name, they played us boys with their hidden artistry.

Holy shit

Saturn 🪐 based buttholes. Grok is literally a Saturn symbol.

True story incoming.

A while back I was dealing with a close family member's horrific psychological attacks. This person is a true born narcissist of the highest order.

It took me 4 decades to realize that my entire life is and has always been controlled by this person. The deceptive tactics used against me are unheard of, believe me, I dare not exaggerate.

Anyhow, as any normal person might do under these extreme circumstances, I began playing out potential future scenarios wherein I might find myself backed into a corner with no way out. I have no access to guns nor would I even have the balls to try and acquire one... So the next best option would be a knife. I would think about the various knife like options I have available, particularly, a bunch of utility knives. Left with me after my dad passed away.

One day, the aforementioned narcissist came for their monthly visit to the apartment they have me isolated in. However this time they brought along a co-conspiritor, another narcissist, in this case a "flying monkey".

During the visit, they mentioned, in passing, the various utility knives my father had.

I swear on everything that is righteous and benevolent, they were READING MY THOUGHTS REMOTELY. Thus the reason they mentioned the knives, because I was THINKING ABOUT POTENTIALLY USING ONE!! AGAINST THIS VERY PERSON!!

The reason the other person was brought along was them sending me a very clear message. We control you, we are constantly monitoring you including your own thoughts, and that particular thought, is a big no no.

"Don't fuck with us"

Memeatic Warfare Department sees you

Just pulled this from September 2001, I imagine it came out before 9/11. It's a fictional story based on Timothy Mcveih.

"PUZZLE MAN

WHEN A SOLDIER DIES WITH HIS SECRETS

I am not crazy, no matter what people say. I have valid reasons for everything I did, and I am at peace. My complete story will never be told, but when my heart is stopped by Uncle Sam's pherma-ceuticals, my spirit will ascend like a white balloon over the Wabash River and fly up to heaven. God will welcome me into his house, saying, "Well done, my good and faithful servant. You followed your beliefs end acted on them. You have been a steadfast patriot to your cause, and I hereby place you at my right hand."

Life isn't so difficult here, but I do face a few problems. Especially when I try to sleep, because the children always appear in my dreams and ask me to play with them. They have Tonka toys and coloring books and Nerf balls, and they pull me toward the puzzle that lies scattered on the big table in the day care center.

That puzzle bothers them a lot. They want to complete it. They circle around it and ask me for help. "What is it supposed to be?" they ask me. They laugh and push the pieces of the puzzle around on the table and look at me with hopeful eyes. And at that moment in my dreems, I know these children are alive and at play in the fields of eternity.

FICTION BY ASA BABER"

I wish I could get a bunch of these printed out, it's hard on my eyes attempting to read on these goddamn black mirrors.

It's called child exploitation, "sextortion" makes it sound like a Cirque du Soleil performance.