Aren’t hippies anti-authority?
1) They aren’t hippies anymore, they’re the overpaid laptop class and and elites
2) When “the authority” is the Biden world order, the only people who are “anti authority” are the “Trump-supporting conspiracy theorists”. The Burning Man festival goers of today are the most emphatic supporters of the current “authority” possible, because they are the main beneficiaries. They ARE the diversity-and-inclusion commissars. They ARE the writers of the “you aren’t anti-racist enough!” books. They ARE the tech elites hiring nothing but H1Bs. They ARE the VERY BANKERS who have been stoking the flames of identity politics ever since Occupy Wall Street made things a little too close for their comfort. You are completely oblivious to reality.
The hippies didn’t work for corporations, the hippies didn’t have disposable incomes to buy elaborate costumes, to go to parties every night, to afford designer psychostimulants and prescription drugs. The hippies weren’t blowing off steam between 50–60 hr work-weeks of sitting behind a computer or talking on the phone. The hippies didn’t have to take Xanax to get them through their day, they didn’t have to take Ambien every night to fall asleep…what I see when I look at the live-to-party crowd is people who are lacking a solid identity, or are unhappy with the identity they have outside of the party; people who need to wear costumes and face-paint to be interesting, people that need to take drugs to be able to connect with others.”
- festival held in basically a lye pit
- 3/4" rain
- skin, eyes, throat, lungs now turning into soap
- blood demon creatures burrowing into vaginas and anal sacks
- cough up blood
- keeps raining, off and on for 3 and a half DAYS.
- I HAVE EBOLA YOU GUYS
- That these Ebola rumors are even circulating tells me this is actually happening.
something along the lines of
“I’m here, and it’s bad.
The fever is like a burning fire inside me. I can’t cool down. I’m soaked in sweat, but it doesn’t help.
My throat feels like sandpaper, every swallow hurts. I can barely talk, just a croaky whisper.
I’m so tired, and every move is pure pain. My body is heavy, like lead.
Red spots are all over me, itching and burning. They won’t stop multiplying.
I’m alone, isolated. I can hear the festival music in the distance, but I’m stuck here, a prisoner in my own body.
And now, there’s something even more terrifying. I’ve started coughing up blood, and my trips to the bathroom are equally horrifying. This nightmare seems to have no end.”
- pla·ya ˈplī-ə
- the flat-floored bottom of an undrained desert basin that becomes at times a shallow lake
The satanic hive collective that destroys the wicker man.
They’re having loads of fun out there. Their wildest, self-sustaining, communist hive mind credo come to life and they all can pitch in together, make the best of it, share resources, pray for salvation.
For it is raining right now there. Will on and off all day.
Ironically, folks have been warned for a year and a half that this is the season for judgment on Earth. Really. And yet, the debauchery, death, abominations with children at the elite encampments there, etc, went on apace. One fellow said, and I quote, “I’d like to see God stop me.”
Anyone who has intercourse in this ancient infested cursed parasite ridden silt made of tiny shards of long ago volcanic glass, will find new horrors unseen in a very long time. Last warning on the matter.
For all those that shook their fist at the heavens and doubled down last night…you will and are, being answered.
VaxPass required by organizers to attend Burning Phag, it is said. This country hasn’t seen a cholera epidemic in 90 years. All the old plagues could like crop up – typhus, the lot.
These start as tiny, microscopic eggs, laying dormant for thousands of cursed years; then quickly, in mere hours, grow to whatever size the environment will sustain. Whether in the anal or vaginal walls or the open waters of the newborn sea.Guess what these things do? Their instinct is to burrow deeply in the wettest part of “wherever” and lay thousands of eggs. And when that tail wraps around a nerve, well, it’s like this. The itching is the burrowing; the burning (ding) is the nerve entanglement. Thought you’d want to know.
Your ongoing blasphemies are noted.
Keep rocking those slits, Canaanite.
Low budget cremation of care ritual. No one knew about the three sleeping children, bound and gagged within, did they?
First thing, if you make it out, get to a doctor pronto. Seriously. You have two serious infections already. That itching isn’t going to go away, honey.