Slowish news day + lack of creative energy = this. Why not weaponize some more of my childhood? Up next: Romper Room and Captain Kangaroo. Meep meep. Yip yip yip yip. Uh huh uh huh.

Ahhhhh, Rudy. Should we have sympathy? This man has aided and abetted the division and destruction of our country - resulting in the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Americans. For what? Pieces of silver?

Forget the vast distances involved. Or the velocities required to conquer them. There is only one species in the Universe interested in observing our primordial follies. Or experimenting on us.

My struggle? Wanting to believe. But questioning the silence. So. I fill that doubt with faith. And trust there is a reason. With sunrise - I hope. With sunset - I love. Another day, another dream - begets another.

From time to time I get this notion that we, as a species, are worth saving. But humanity never fails to convince me otherwise. Would I volunteer for abduction into the unknown? Absolutely. Without hesitation. Come what may.

What is boredom? What is wanting change? Are they merely the disease - or are they the symptoms of some deeper, pre-existing dysfunction? If our "not-the-end-of-the-world" has taught us anything ... it's that we are human.

Surge away Northeast Ohio. I wish I could say I didn't care about Christmas. Because. Right now. I don't care. Period. As for humanity. And. My thoughts about what time is it on the "Doomsday Clock"? The infomercials are on.

Saying I'm a "picky eater" is an understatement. But. Except for the fish thing and vegetables - it's less hate and more "meh". Basically my diet is cluck or gobble. Sometimes oink. And cheese. So. Half moo?

The panspermia article from 2018 has received some renewed interest. I can't say why for sure. With everything going on in the world you’d think ... nevermind. Maybe it is just a distraction. But. If not? I will name names.

Happy World Puppetry Day! If you accept that we are a random coalescence of atoms in space and time – you still must ponder: can we ever scientifically prove our consciousness originates from INSIDE of us?

There are so many stories out there - waiting to be heard. And saved.

My theory? The “great filter” is caused by communication. Specifically – languages and words. Thus. Abstraction, mistrust, conflict. And. Thoughts and emotions lost in signal-to-noise. So. Emojis? Telepathy? Or extinction at a bandwidth “explosion” – when available information surpasses our ability to process it? Rendering us unable to comprehend reality.

How would I feel about being reduced to a pile of smoldering goo? Hmm. Well. Compared to the vacuum of space? Being eaten alive? Consumed by parasites? Drained of blood? Transformed into chalk? Yeah. Sign me up!

The thought that disturbs me most is not IF there are aliens. Or IF they are out there. Or IF they will one day visit our world. The thing that keeps me up at night is … what if WE are the “aliens”?

Ahh, the holiday sounds of target practice surround me. For those unaware, deer season in Ohio traditionally opens the Monday after Thanksgiving. This also seems a weirdly appropriate place to add … go Buckeyes!

I don't use any reality "enhancers". Honestly. I swear. I just wondered if "Sesame Street", "Star Trek" and a "See 'n Say" could be combined. Of course, all of this was just an artificial construct, a lame excuse – a setup if you will – to use a "Wilhelm Scream". But to get the full effect, view this "thing" as a minute-sized animation on my YouTube channel: youtube.com/@TheKrumblz

You are home. Alone. With nothing but silence wrapped around you. Then. Suddenly. A knock at the door. But. A knock unlike any you have ever heard before. Startled. Alarmed. Worried. Who's there? What do they want? You stumble to the window. You peer outside. And wonder. Why ... are they carrying a clipboard?

If you build it. They will come. And make crop circles. Hahaha. I amuse myself. Anyways. In my head, this scene had a lengthy dialog leading up to the aliens asking, "Hey, is this Heaven?" Now. Imagine. Advanced beings travel here to dispel infinite wisdom. THIS? Is exactly how we would respond.

I started meditation young. Then learned to hack my dreams. But one type – the "psychedelic dream" – has eluded me. Until now. I ask questions. I get answers. As images. Which makes sense. It's the least common denominator. That overcomes barriers. Of language. Of culture. Of space and time.