"Muddy waters ahead"" evokes a sense of uncertainty, tumult, and the quest for clarity amidst confusion.
This metaphor resonates deeply within the current political landscape of the United States, particularly under the leadership of President Joe Biden.
While the president may still command visibility, questions arise concerning who truly runs the show as the nation traverses a complex web of geopolitical tensions and internal challenges. The metaphor of muddy waters reflects a larger state of disarray within the country. 
Like the murky waters that obscure vision and clarity, the political scene in the U.S. seems clouded by misinformation, propaganda, and power plays that epitomize the nature of contemporary governance. President Biden, once hailed as a stabilizing force after the chaotic years that preceded him, now faces increasing skepticism about his ability to navigate the nation through turbulent waters.
Biden's presidency is marked by a myriad of challenges: a polarized society, economic turbulence, and international pressures from rivals like Russia and China. While he continues to lead, the question remains: who is really calling the shots? In this climate, we need to consider the broader geopolitical milieu. The partnership between Russia and China—historically competitive nations—has emerged as a formidable axis. 
Observers note that this coalition has been in the making for decades, tracing its roots back to strategic decisions and alignments formed during the Cold War. What was once seen as an ideological rift has now turned into a collaborative effort, marked by a shared commitment to undermining U.S. influence across the globe.This partnership operates on several levels, utilizing psychological operations (psy ops) and subversive propaganda to weaken the resolve of the American populace and its allies. These tactics have evolved, leveraging social media, disinformation campaigns, and targeted messaging to shape public perception and electoral outcomes. 
The psychological landscape is a battlefield where minds are the ultimate prizes, shifting power in ways that traditional military engagements no longer define. The intricate play between Russia and China is not haphazard; it reflects a carefully devised strategy—some might call it a 50-year plan—to counter Western hegemony. Analysts cite various historical moments as pivotal to this alliance, suggesting that the groundwork for this shift in power dynamics was laid as early as the 1960s. In a post-Cold War world, both nations recognized that old adversaries could become unlikely allies in a quest for global dominance.As American policymakers grapple with the ramifications of this partnership, many feel as though they’re navigating an increasingly treacherous sea. The “Muddy waters ahead” metaphor aptly captures the confusion surrounding America’s foreign policy and its effects domestically. The American public finds itself bombarded with mixed messages, as the mood of the country shifts between anxiety, anger, and a desperate desire for stability. As we dive deeper, we can draw upon the image of a "fluctopus"—a creature that symbolizes not just the tentacles of external influence but also the internal corruption that plagues governance. Like an octopus with its many limbs, the forces that vie for control over American life and politics are varied and complex. This idea of the fluctopus represents the intertwining influences of corporate lobbying, foreign intervention, and the manipulation of mainstream media narratives. In the end Tommy zygote is the popsical island of an ice berg. 

Underneath lies: .THRASHING ZOMBIES.

Muddy waters ahead

M.W.A. JOE

Tommy Zygote, the founder of Thrashing Zombies, has embarked on an audacious mission that turns the culinary world upside down in a reality where traditional pets are no longer companions but have found a new life on the menu. With the rise of eateries specializing in heartily unconventional cuisine, Zygote is crisscrossing the United States to inspect cat and dog restaurants that serve up uniquely controversial dishes. Gone are the days when we think of dogs and cats as beloved members of the family; now, they are being creatively transformed into menu items such as “Purr-fectly Grilled Cat Burgers,” “Fido’s Footlongs,” and “Pawtastic Paws au Vin.” In this new culinary landscape, fast-food chains like “Bark ’n’ Munch,” “Meow Chow,” “Feline Feast,” “The Cat’s Meow Diner,” “Squeaky Clean Cuisine,” “Paw-some Patties,” “Kibble Kravings,” “Dine and Whine,” “Pet’s Plate,” and “Fur & Feasts” have taken the concept of pet dining to astonishing new heights, where the pets themselves have become the main courses. Among the eclectic offerings, none have garnered quite as much notoriety as “Frog Leg Muffin Tops,” a satirical yet disturbingly popular establishment that serves up dishes like “Whisker Whiskey Wings” alongside “Tailgate Tacos”—with a twist that sends shivers down the spines of pet lovers everywhere. Former President Donald Trump has unexpectedly emerged as a vocal champion of this bizarre culinary revolution, enthusiastically declaring Frog Leg Muffin Tops his favorite restaurant. His endorsement highlights a cheeky celebration of a world where the once-beloved pets have now become gourmet fare, absurdly challenging traditional concepts of companionship and food. With increasingly bizarre menu items aimed at the most curious eaters, Trump’s approval adds a layer of legitimacy to a trend that many would have dismissed as purely satirical. Zygote’s mission is not only to inspect these eateries but also to explore the hilarity and strangeness of a society that has embraced such radical changes. As he travels from one fast-food establishment to another, he captures both the outrageous dishes and the enthusiastic patrons enjoying meals that seem to defy all logic. He highlights the often comical, decorously themed interiors of places like “Meow Chow” versus the no-frills practicality of “Bark ’n’ Munch,” showcasing a cultural shift where dining on once-beloved pets is met with a mix of glee and disbelief. However, behind the whimsical façades lies an unsettling reflection on societal values and the evolving nature of relationships with animals. Zygote aims to prompt discussions about this new culinary ethics as he shines a light on an industry where companionship has been turned into cuisine. Through social media, he shares his findings, mixing humor and satire to engage audiences while exploring the deeper implications of this bizarre trend. Are we truly redefining what it means to celebrate our relationship with pets, or have we simply embraced absurdity? With community events like “Tasty Tails Taste Test,” Zygote connects with a curious populace eager to taste the novelty of dining on what was once a cuddly friend. In this satirical exploration of a world where pets are now part of the dining experience, Tommy Zygote challenges us to reconsider our own relationships with animals and the sometimes absurd lengths we go to for culinary innovation. As dining venues catering to this strange niche grow in popularity, and with Donald Trump leading the charge with fervor for Frog Leg Muffin Tops, it seems that the dining landscape will continue to surprise and amuse, shaping a new world where the lines between companionship and cuisine have been irrevocably blurred.

Secret empire

Cats and dogs what about the frogs?

Cats and Dogs what about the Frogs?

There year was 2029 exactly 40 years preceding the Robots wars. “Billie! Billie!” The crowd screamed, a chaotic sea of voices as the lights pulsed like a heartbeat. Suddenly, a glimmering object soared through the air, a can of kirks Pasito aimed with reckless abandon. Time seemed to slow as it arced toward her, landing with a sickening thud right on her throat. She gasped, clutching her neck. “What the—(Darth Vader noises)” The stage blurred, and the laughter of the audience turned into a muddied wreck of sounds. The world spun, the echo of metallic laughter lingering in her ear. “Can we get a medic?” Marcus, her manager, shouted, panic etching lines on his forehead. Billie’s vision flickered as she was whisked offstage. “Don’t panic, I’m okay,” she croaked, but her voice betrayed her. Hours later, in a sterile hospital room, the doctor’s face hovered over her, shrouded in a mask. “We’re going to have to perform a laryngectomy,” he said, his voice steady yet grave. “You might not be able to sing again, Billie.” “What?” Her heart sank. “No, you can’t do that! Music is everything!” But Professor cockington just shook his head somberly. When she woke up, she felt empty, like a part of her soul had been removed along with her voice box. They preserved it in a pickle jar, the glass imprisoning that visceral piece of her. “What do I do now?” she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. Days passed, then weeks. The jar stayed on her bedside table, a haunting reminder. But, as the world moved on, she couldn’t. Creativity bubbled within her—an unstoppable urge. “Maybe there’s another way,” she thought. And that’s when Tommy Zygote (who was dating Kamala Harris at the time) slid into her life. The time traveler and bass player of the underground band Thashing Zombies, he was fascinated by the bizarre, the outcast. “Billie, you’re brilliant,” he exclaimed, bouncing in her hospital room, his wild hair framing his face like a pop-art explosion. “We can make music again, just in a different way!” “Different how?” Billie’s eyebrow arched skeptically. “Your stoma,” he said, pointing dramatically. “It’s a blank canvas! I can help you record through it! Japan’s sound surgeon has these techniques…” “What do you mean, record through it?” she frowned. Tommy, ever animated, began to explain. “You can use a special synthesizer, and when you resonate through your stoma, we can create something unique and raw. The world has never heard anything like it!” Skepticism lingered, but curiosity clawed at her. “Okay, let’s try,” she sighed. Weeks of experimentation turned into a whirlwind. With every sound they crafted, Billie felt herself coming alive again. Her stoma was no longer a limitation; it was a new beginning, a voice that would rise into the ether in ways she never imagined. Finally, the moment arrived. “Are you ready for this?” Tommy asked, his hands poised over the controls. The air felt electric. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, feeling the pulse of the world around her again. Then, they recorded their first track, a haunting melody that reverberated with new vitality. “You Can Like My Throat Stoma But It Can’t Lick You”—the title sparked laughter, a stark juxtaposition to how it sounded. “We’ll release it as an EP,” Tommy announced, excitement seeping from every pore. “It’ll redefine how people think about music!” “There’s no going back now,” Billie said, a smile creeping onto her lips. “Let’s give them something they’ve never seen before.” And so began the rebirth of Billie Eilish; a fusion of tragedy and triumph, a voice transformed. Together with Tommy, they were set to reshape the boundaries of sound and feeling, defying norms with every note that danced from her throat stoma......................"Hey Billie can you hear that?" "What Tommy?" Billie whispered. "The Beep on the IV machine,,,,,,, hear it. We can loop that to Make a cool song".

M.W.A.

Doggie dogs die before I

The following song has vocal samples from the space cat supreme leader (Meowster Nebulas) and his second in command (Captain Kit Kat). 
In the aftermath of the Floctopus invasion, the Earth breathed a sigh of relief. Peace had been restored, but the scars from the conflict were still visible. The alliance between humans and robots had forged a new world, one where cohabitation and collaboration were paramount. Yet, as the heroes of the battle—Keith Fontane and his loyal robot companion T.J.—celebrated their victory, a looming threat was barely on the horizon, waiting quietly to disrupt the peace once again.

Meanwhile, in a hidden laboratory shrouded in secrecy, a brilliant yet eccentric scientist named Professor Cockington toiled day and night. His passion for innovation matched only by his zeal to protect Earth from future invasions drove him to the creation of a remarkable breed of feline warriors—Space Cats. Each cat was genetically enhanced, imbued with intellect far surpassing that of an average animal, and armed with technological prowess and combat skills that rivaled the best. They were not merely pets; they were guardians infused with a deep instinct to protect, coordinated through a sophisticated neural network allowing them to communicate seamlessly in teams.

As the professor completed his assembly of the Space Cats, he knew they would serve a vital purpose. The threat of the Floctopus was far from over; intelligence reports suggested that the alien race was regrouping after their initial setback, bolstered by their otherworldly abilities and a visceral desire for revenge against those who had dared to defy them. Professor Cockington envisioned a plan to not only protect Earth but to eradicate the very threat posed by the Floctopus once and for all.

Meanwhile, word of the professor's work eventually reached Keith and T.J. Intrigued, they made their way to the lab, eager to learn more about the professor's latest innovation. As they entered the high-tech facility, they were greeted by a flurry of activity. The laboratory buzzed with the sounds of mechanical whirs and feline growls, as a dozen Space Cats scurried around, training and preparing for battle. Each cat wore a sleek armor suited to their physique, equipped with gadgets similar to those found on advanced robotic models.

“Welcome! Welcome!” Professor Cockington exclaimed, his excitement almost palpable. His wild hair and frantically gesturing hands highlighted his enthusiasm, as he motioned for the duo to join him. “You must meet my creations!”

Impressive, Professor,” Keith said, observing the cats with a mix of awe and amusement as they performed acrobatic maneuvers, launching themselves off walls and engaging with training drones that hovered lazily in the air. “But do you really think they can handle the Floctopus? They’re formidable.”

The professor nodded earnestly. “Indeed! The Space Cats possess agility, intelligence, and advanced weaponry integrated into their armor. They’re ready to take on the Floctopus menace. Together, we can coordinate attacks unlike anything seen before!”

With the stakes higher than ever, Keith and T.J. joined forces with the professor and his feline warriors. The Space Cats proved to be more than just adorable; they exhibited remarkable strategic thinking. During training simulations, they displayed an ability to anticipate their opponents' moves, allowing them to devise tactics that utilized their environment and collective skills. Each cat had a unique role, from reconnaissance to heavy artillery support, giving the team a holistic approach to warfare.

Keith, T.J., and the Space Cats delivered the final blow to the alien leader. Together, they fought with a fervor that echoed the bond formed between all allies—human, robot, and cat alike.

Robot Warz 2069

Space Cats Vs the Fluctopus (Fluctopus invasion Part 2)

space cats save earth

The Fluctopus, an imaginative alien species described as half fly and half octopus, could be envisioned as a highly intelligent race nurturing an insatiable appetite for the neural clouds produced by human dreams. Dreams, in this fictional narrative, are envisioned as ethereal manifestations containing the hopes, fears, and consciousness of individuals. The Fluctopus feeds on these neural clouds, deriving sustenance from the ebb and flow of human cognition. This alien race could be seen as influencing key historical events, particularly through associations with powerful organizations like the CIA.The CIA has been surreptitiously involved in many covert operations throughout the 20th century, often seeking to manipulate political landscapes domestically and internationally. From the assassination of leaders deemed threats to U.S. interests to involvement in clandestine mind control projects like MKUltra, the agency's historical backdrop is rich with conspiracy theories surrounding its activities. What if, in this speculative tale, the CIA had become aware of the Fluctopus and their unusual diet? As the narrative unfolds, it's conceivable that the CIA formed a clandestine alliance with the Fluctopus, believing they could harness this alien power to enhance their control over both domestic affairs and international geopolitics. The alien beings, capable of instilling fear and influencing dreams, could provide the agency with tools for psychological warfare. Individuals targeted for assassination might be those who opposed the CIA's interests or those whose dreams contained visions that threatened the stability of government operations. Connecting the assassinations listed below, such as John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr., one could surmise that these pivotal figures held dreams of greater social justice, equality, and transparency—concepts that could have fundamentally conflicted with the covert objectives of the CIA. The strategic elimination of such leaders would not only serve to silence dissent but also feed the Fluctopus' need for neural clouds, ensuring their continued survival and influence over human politics. The Fluctopus, operating in the background, would thrive on the emotional turmoil and societal upheaval following these assassinations. Each act of violence would generate fear, anxiety, and confusion—catalyzing a rich source of neural clouds for the alien race. The chaos created by such events could in turn fuel further conspiracies, with the CIA exploiting public fears to expand its power and achieve new objectives, all under the watchful gaze of their extraterrestrial allies.In this narrative landscape, the performance of the CIA can be viewed as fulfilling a dual purpose. On one hand, they are executing political manoeuvres designed to protect their interests; on the other, they unwittingly serve the appetites of their alien allies, perpetuating a cycle that ensures both human political instability and the Fluctopus' continuous feeding. This elaborate tapestry of conspiracy—intertwining human agency with alien influence—invites readers to ponder the hidden layers of history. While no actual evidence supports such dramatic claims regarding the CIA or assassinations, the allure of blending fact with fiction creates a rich narrative that encourages deeper exploration of power, perception, and the mysteries of human consciousness. 
AbrahamLincolnDonaldtrrumpDonaldtrumpJamesA.GarfieldWilliamMcKinleyJohn F.KennedyRobert F.KennedyMartinLuther KingJr.MalcolmXJohnLennonFred HamptonHueyP.NewtonTupacShakurBiggieSmallsSharonTateGeorgeLincoln RockwellAssataShakurJohnWilkesBoothCharlesJ.GuiteauLeonCzolgoszLee HarveyOswald‘SirhanSirhanJamesEarlRayThomasHaganMarkDavidChapmanGiuseppeZangaraJohnHinckleyJr.EricHarrisDylannRoofDavidBerkowizAaronAlexisAdamLanza

Ass assination nation

The "Valley of Death," a term that resonates deeply within the realms of loss and mourning, encapsulates the profound grief that accompanies the passing of loved ones—especially when those individuals are as pivotal as a father and a best friend. This emotional chasm, this void that engulfs the heart, is a unique suffering that not only punctuates one's existence but also reshapes the landscape of daily life. When your father, a figure of strength and guidance, departs from this world, it feels as if the very foundation beneath your feet has crumbled, leaving you adrift in a sea of memories and unfulfilled hopes. Similarly, losing a best friend, a companion with whom you navigated the journey of life, amplifies the sense of solitude. Each moment becomes a reminder of their absence, a poignant reminder that laughter is now tinged with sadness, and shared adventures are now solitary. The pain of these losses is often underestimated; the world continues to spin, yet within your heart lies a profound void that no one else can truly understand. The emptiness is not merely about missing their presence but grappling with the realization that everything you once shared is now etched only in memory. Even time, with its promise of healing, cannot fill this hole; the ache transforms but does not completely fade. The perspective of a time traveler—Tommy, a zygote thrashing amidst a society grappling with the surreal, perhaps even comical, aftermath of a Fluctopus invasion in 2072—offers a unique lens through which to view this suffering. As humanity faced the absurdities of a world turned upside down, the inherent suffering caused by the loss of loved ones remained a constant, an unchanging truth that transcends even the most chaotic of circumstances. In the face of absurdities and the unpredictable nature of existence, religion found fertile ground to flourish after the Fluctopus invasion. This unprecedented event shook the foundations of society, leading many to seek solace and meaning in faith. Suddenly, rituals and beliefs that once felt distant became lifelines for those struggling with overwhelming grief and uncertainty, providing an anchor in turbulent times. As communities faced the void left by loved ones, they turned to spirituality, sharing their pain and finding collective strength in shared beliefs and traditions. In many ways, religion became a beacon for navigation through the Valley of Death—the promise of reunification, the idea of a greater plan, and the comfort of a community made grieving less isolating. The sacrament of remembrance transformed into a pivotal mechanism through which individuals could honor the lives of those lost. They initiated memorials and rituals, blending their grief with faith, rebuilding their identity around the concept that though death takes away loved ones, it cannot erase the bonds forged in life. Celebrations of life woven with spiritual significance provided a sense of continuity, enabling individuals to carry the essence of their father and best friend through the stories told and the memories celebrated. Each prayer whispered in moments of solitude becomes a testament to a love that transcends death, creating a tapestry woven with loss yet rich in meaning. In the face of time, the insight that emerges is that grief and faith coexist, intricately binding us to those we’ve lost while offering a pathway through the pervasive emptiness that defines the human experience, especially in the aftermath of a tragedy that rocks the very core of society. The Valley of Death, while an arduous journey, need not be traversed alone; reliance on community and spirituality can dramatically alter the experience of loss, turning grief into a shared narrative infused with hope and remembrance.

The Valley of death

In the vibrant tapestry of Australian activism, Jack Karlson emerges as a bold and indomitable figure whose fierce commitment to social justice and human rights challenged the very foundations of oppression in New South Wales. Born on February 26, 1950, Jack's life was marked by an unyielding courage that set him apart. His iconic declaration, "this is a democracy manifest," during his arrest on a day that would reverberate throughout the country, became emblematic of his struggle against systemic injustice, symbolizing the collective yearning for freedom in a democracy that often fell short of its ideals. Jack's confrontation with law enforcement on that fateful day is not just an incident but a pivotal moment in Australian history—a moment that ignited a wildfire of discourse on civil liberties. His arrest by the notoriously corrupt New South Wales police on September 1, 1988, was not merely an individual act of defiance; it was a clarion call to all who believed in the foundational principles of democracy. Jack's words echoed in the hearts of many, capturing the raw tension between authority and the people’s right to protest. He stood firm, embodying the spirit of those who dared to speak truth to power, making it abundantly clear that issues of justice were personal, immediate, and urgent. A lover of music, Jack often channeled his fervor into the strings of his Spanish guitar, the instrument serving as both a release and a rallying cry. Those melodies spoke of rebellion and resilience, marking his identity as both an artist and activist. Jack’s favorite expletive, "fuck," often punctuated his passionate speeches, a passionate expression of his contempt for the corrupt systems that sought to silence voices like his, illustrating the raw emotion and truth he felt in the face of oppression. Jack's commitment to activism did not wane in the face of adversity. He dedicated his life to advocating for the marginalized, fighting against not only police corruption but also broader social injustices. His boldness in confronting authority inspired countless others to take a stand, igniting movements and fellowship among fellow activists. In particular, his ability to articulate the struggles faced by common people resonated deeply with those who felt voiceless in the complex machinery of governance. In a poignant moment shortly before his tragic passing on 7th of August 2024, Jack received a visit from the legendary bass man Tommy Zygote and legendary bass man JFJ from Thrashing Zombies. Zygote, who understood the depth of each protest, connected with Jack on a level that transcended mere camaraderie; it was a meeting of minds dedicated to a singular cause—human rights and freedom. Their dialogue was one of mutual respect and understanding, showcasing the profound connections forged in the heat of activism. Now, as we reflect on Jack Karlson’s remarkable life, this song serves as a tribute to his spirit and unwavering dedication to justice. It captures the essence of his unwavering stance, ensuring that his legacy is felt for generations to come. Jack's message continues to echo through our streets and hearts, reminding us all that true democracy is crafted not just in the halls of power, but in the passionate voices of those willing to stand firm against tyranny. Through his legacy, we remember that every voice, like Jack’s, has the power to ignite change, inspire action, and ultimately foster a world where justice and equality reign supreme.

Secret Empire

Democracy manifest in Spain

Democracy Manifest in Spain

Triple C.Killer or Duke (AntiCommunist Cowboy Clown Killer) lies on the cold, unforgiving table, the harsh fluorescent lights above him feel too bright, piercing through the darkness of his past that he can’t escape. The straps dig into his wrists and ankles, a reminder of the control he once had over others, a power that now slips away like sand through his fingers. It is May 9, 1994, and he knows that time has ticked down to its final moments; the impending lethality of the injection looms larger than his regrets. Near him stands Father Tommy, but in the Duke's disturbed mind, he is more than a preacher. This is Tommy Zygote, the enigmatic founder of Thrashing Zombies. The Duke chuckles quietly, the irony of seeking solace from someone who might turn his story into a twisted anthem not lost on him. As the IV needle pierces his skin, the Duke feels an unsettling pang of vulnerability wash over him. Memories flood in: the faces of the boys, the laughter that filled his home, now mere echoes of a haunted past. Once a celebrated community figure, he now lies bare on this table with nothing but shame to adorn him. “Father,” he begins, words slurring with a mix of fear and catharsis. “I didn’t know I was lost until they started to disappear.” Each word scrapes against his soul. He recalls the terrible grip he had on life, snuffing out the lights of so many young men, intertwined with memories of a stunted childhood where the shadows of his father loomed large, twisted lessons learned through fear. Father Tommy listens, eyes piercing yet strangely understanding. The Duke’s mind drifts, racing through 1970s Chicago, the bustling streets, the secrets whispered behind closed doors, the nights when he donned clown makeup to entertain children. In stark contrast, he realizes his mind housed a jester’s facade that concealed a monster. Heat from the lethal cocktail intensifies as he begins to shake, heart pounding faster. “I wanted to be loved, Tommy,” he confesses, tears breaking through his bravado. “But all I found was this emptiness… this insatiable hunger that gnawed at me.” Each moment ticks by, the weight of time pressing upon him. The Duke remembers the thrill of a hunt, chilling highs that flickered like distant stars, only to fade into the bleak darkness he now inhabits. The taste of blood and betrayal intertwines in his mind, recollections morphing into nightmares swirling around him. “I don’t want to die, not like this,” he murmurs, voice shaky and uncertain. “I wish I could take it all back. I wanted to be someone… anyone.” The IV fluid drips steadily, pulse thrumming louder against the silence surrounding him. “Your sins can’t be unmade, but you can find peace if you truly seek it,” Father Tommy responds, his voice laced with an odd blend of compassion and authority, something the Duke didn’t expect from the man he imagined was merely a conduit to the afterlife. Conflicted emotions swirl; how could peace exist when he has sown chaos? The seconds stretch as if mocking him, every tick resonating within the confines of his torment. As the final wave of the drug courses through him, the Duke’s resolve softens; he feels a strange acceptance settle in, the fabric of his existence unthreading, revealing the faces of his victims one last time. “I’m sorry,” he gasps, not just to Father Tommy, but to the universe, to the innocent lives extinguished by his hands. The world fades, colors dulling like a scene from one of those horror films he admired. “Forgive me,” he whispers, surrendering to the oblivion that beckons him, drowning out the remnants of his broken psyche as death embraces him like a lover he never knew. In those final moments, the tortured mind of the Duke falls silent, enveloped in darkness, leaving behind only echoes of questions reverberating through the void. Tommy leaned down and sung, "You anticommunist motherfucker, Elizabeth Proctor was innocent".

What`s for breakfast

Tripple C Killer

Triple C.Killer.

3069, amidst the whispering winds of a post-apocalyptic Earth, the once-vibrant landscapes were divided into twelve distinct insect realms, each thriving yet fraught with tension. The formidable Arachnis Domain, ruled by the cunning and strategic leader, General Silkweaver. Gifted with the ability to manipulate webs of reality, Silkweaver could weave illusions and traps, ensnaring his foes in intricate psychological battles even before physical action commenced. Across the battlefield lay the enchanting Papilonia Realm, presided over by the graceful Lady Flutterwing, a being of ethereal beauty and fierce resolve. Flutterwing possessed the power of iridescence, casting dazzling light displays that could both mesmerize her enemies and enhance her allies, providing them with temporary boosts of speed and agility during combat. As the anticipation of battle electrified the air, Tommy Zygote, the legendary time traveler and one of the main members of Thrashing Zombies, prepared to capture the essence of this monumental clash. Also present were his fellow bandmates—Maestro Dave, a master of rhythm known for his intricate pianopercussion; Professor Cockington, a genius in sound engineering and narrative harmonics; Marcus Gorgon, who had a knack for blending organic sounds with electronic guitar; Keith Fontane, the melodic genius whose ethereal producer could charm even the fiercest beasts; and JFJ, known for his adventurous spirit and exceptional talent in crafting beats that resonated with a primal intensity. As the battle commenced, Silkweaver deployed his spider minions, each capable of spinning silk that could harden into armor or create barriers against Flutterwing's radiant forces. The air was thick with the sounds of clashing wings and skittering legs, accented by the harmonious yet discordant battle cries that echoed across the landscape. Just as the conflict reached its crescendo, an unexpected threat emerged—the vicious Ant Wolves, predatory creatures that feasted upon the fallen. Their invasion shocked both the Arachnis and Papilonia factions, forcing them to cease their fighting and unite against this common foe. In a rare display of cooperation, the butterflies and spiders rallied together, taking aim with their laser cannon and obliterating the Ant Wolves that had invaded the battlefield, ensuring their wounded would not become prey. Once the threat was neutralized, the air crackled with tension as both sides prepared to designate their champions for a final duel. From the depths of the Arachnis Domain emerged a fierce spider warrior named Venomstrike, known for his deadly precision and unmatched agility. From the Papilonia Realm, the valiant butterfly warrior, Azurewing, stepped forward, her delicate wings shimmering with determination. The two warriors clashed fiercely in a duel that captured the attention of every insect on the battlefield. In a dramatic turn of events, Azurewing emerged victorious, her iridescent wings reflecting the fading light as she landed the decisive blow. However, in a shocking betrayal, the spider forces, led by Silkweaver, refused to accept defeat and launched a surprise attack on the unsuspecting butterflies, reigniting the conflict. Throughout the chaotic scene, Tommy Zygote recorded everything, capturing the sounds of battle and the frantic cries of the insect people. Hidden within this sonic tapestry, those listening closely could hear the distinct voice of spider rap star P. Spiddy, who was notorious for his catchy tunes that had become anthems of the Arachnis Realm. Out of interest the squeak voice is general silk weaver speaking in spider language. Historical mentor,  King George VI of the United Kingdom and William Wallace

An invertebrate Odyssey Part 2

P Spiddy and the Archnid-Aerial Wars 3069

Archnid-Aerial Wars 3069

The Cyber Prison of Tommy Zygote In the neon-lit corridors of Cyber Prison 3078, where the cries of the guilty echoed through digital walls, one figure commanded the darkness: Tommy Zygote, a time traveler from a band called Thrashing Zombies. He was not only a guard but also the architect of fear, the conjurer of terror dreams that haunted each prisoner in their electric confines. Each day, he danced between timelines and nightmares, weaving unique horrors based on the crimes that had brought these individuals to their fate. Tommy was a master of psychological manipulation, using advanced technology to delve into the minds of the inmates. At the time of arrival, he meticulously analyzed their backgrounds and transgressions. For a thief, the terror dream would materialize as a never-ending chase through a labyrinth of security systems, facing endless obstacles and guards, only to always be captured at the last moment. For a murderer, the nightmare transformed into a harrowing replay of their crime, relived with a growing sense of powerlessness as they witnessed the victim's face in their final moments, over and over again. Each terror dream was devised not only to punish but to break the spirit of the prisoners. The digital realm fed off their fears, manifesting scenarios tailored to their psychological profiles. Tommy Zygote had access to vast databases that cataloged every crime in detail, allowing him to combine facts and fantasies into immersive experiences that tormented the soul. He relished in the creations, knowing that each prisoner would wake battered and terrified, their resolve crumbling away with every cycle. The prison’s organ systems were meticulously designed to prevent shock and demise. When a prisoner entered their dream state, beta blockers were administered to control heart rates, ensuring that even the most fearful of their waking moments would not lead to a fatal event. Monitors scanned vitals constantly, feeding data to the system, which adjusted the intensity of dreams dynamically. If a heart rate spiked too high, the horror would fade into something less distressing, a cruel twist allowing them to survive the terror for another day. The feeding regimen was equally controlled and grim. Each prisoner sustained on a blend of macronutrients delivered through a gastro tube, thin and persistent, allowing for continuous nutrition to maintain physical health while simultaneously stripping away any dignity. A tracheostomy facilitated breathing, enabling the prisoners to inhale and exhale a sterile, filtered air that was devoid of comfort. The design was mechanical, emphasizing the inhumanity of their containment. Sanitation in this high-tech prison was handled with a strict regimen designed to minimize human interaction. An anal tube collected feces, ensuring that every biological need was monitored, while a catheter allowed for urine collection. The result was a clinical, dehumanizing environment devoid of physical autonomy. The prisoners knew they were reduced to mere subjects in a dark experiment orchestrated by an unyielding guardian. Tommy Zygote thrived on this power. To him, control of life and death was not just a task; it was an art form. Every terror dream had an audience, a public viewing option allowing anyone to log on and watch the horrors unfold in real-time. Spectators relished the grim entertainment as they observed the vibrant displays of angst, voyeuristic pleasure derived from the suffering of the condemned. Beneath the chaotic atmosphere, Tommy Zygote became an icon of fear, a living testament to the dystopian legacy of a society that had traded humanity for security. Yet, within Tommy’s intriguing persona lingered the soul of a musician—the Thrashing Zombies’ time traveler—haunted by the remnants of a shattering past. Each prisoner’s story echoed in his mind, a reminder of the thin line between performer and spectator, creator and destroyer.

Cyber Prison

Tommy Zygote, a member and co-founder of the musical ensemble Thrashing Zombies, creator of Zomboverse, time traveller, inventor and pioneer of Stoner Bass Tech Rock and is rumoured to be the love child of notorious figures GG Allin and Frank Zappa. This extraordinary circumstance is attributed to advanced time travel medical technology, reminiscent of the fictional science portrayed in the film "Junior," which involved the use of the drug Expectane for male pregnancy. The origins of Tommy's birth remain shrouded in ambiguity: some claim that GG Allin delivered him on stage in a shocking spectacle, while others assert that Frank Zappa underwent a cesarean section.

Despite the chaos, I cherish the creativity and audacity I inherited from both dads. With every note I play with Thrashing Zombies, I strive to honor their legacies and carve my own path in this eccentric life.

https://soundcloud.com/whoarethethrashingzombies/pop-n-lock?si=0a356170b2794951b71a9b09d1276c28&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

and 

https://soundcloud.com/whoarethethrashingzombies/spanish-celery

Tommy Zygote stands at the forefront of Stoner Bass Tech Rock, a genre that echoes the transformative era when Bob Dylan transitioned from acoustic to electric and Jimi Hendrix revolutionized the scene. Just as Dylan’s shift marked a pivotal moment in music history, embracing a new sound and narrative approach, Stoner Bass Tech Rock boldly explores themes often considered controversial or unconventional in today’s musical landscape. At its core, Stoner Bass Tech Rock fuses multiple heavy bass lines, electronic elements, and intricate storytelling. This genre thrives on rich, immersive soundscapes created by layered bass tracks that draw influences from icons like Muse, The Stranglers, songwriting legends such as Mikal Saleta, Paul Archibald, Duncan McDonald, Ben Grundy, The Doors, and Johnny Cash. It encapsulates a range of emotions, from existential musings to raw, passionate expressions, evolving into a complex auditory experience that engages listeners both sonically and emotionally. Stoner Bass Tech Rock positions itself as a bold counterpart to mainstream genres, inviting listeners to explore themes of rebellion and the depths of human experience. Much like the cultural shift during the electric era, when artists began challenging societal norms and expanding the boundaries of artistic expression, this genre fosters a climate of inquiry and introspection. It embraces the complexities of existence, presenting these narratives in ways that resonate with urgency and authenticity. Narrative is a cornerstone of Stoner Bass Tech Rock, reminiscent of the story-driven compositions in the early electric music era. Artists construct their songs with clear narrative arcs, delving into personal experiences that reflect a nuanced understanding of relationships, identity, and the human condition. The powerful bass lines and atmospheric elements create an immersive mood, inviting listeners into a world where boundaries are blurred and emotions are laid bare. Stoner Bass Tech Rock serves as a reflection of contemporary culture’s evolving relationship with self-expression. In an age of digital connectivity, where personal and public lives often intertwine, the genre examines how hidden desires and societal pressures shape individuality. By engaging with these themes, it encourages listeners to embrace authenticity and celebrate diverse experiences. Through dynamic live performances, artists embody a spirit of collective expression, fostering a sense of community among fans who find liberation in the music’s depth and sincerity. Key figures in the Bass Tech Rock movement, like Tommy Zygote, exemplify the genre’s rebellious nature. Their creative endeavors challenge conventional norms and provoke thought, pushing listeners to reflect on their views regarding vulnerability, identity, and artistic expression. The influence of such artists parallels the impact of musicians like Dylan and Hendrix, whose bold innovations continue to inspire new generations of creators. Stoner Bass Tech Rock is more than just a musical genre; it’s a movement that confronts the complexities of human experience and encourages dialogue around the intricacies of existence. As it evolves, Stoner Bass Tech Rock will likely continue to challenge artistic boundaries, crafting auditory experiences that provoke thought and deepen understanding of the themes that shape our collective consciousness. By blending bass-driven music with bold storytelling, this genre asserts its significance in the contemporary musical landscape, representing a dynamic exploration of sound and narrative.
Tommy Zygote - S.B.T.R. established by Tommy Zygote to explore the musical dimensions via Bass, is a part of the musical network known as Thrashing Zombies. 

https://soundcloud.com/whoarethethrashingzombies/thrashing-zombies-ride-the-pony-into-old-town-texas?si=86f9439dfb1a46198257a0853a6663cc&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

Original bass player and lead singer, now classified as founder of the band. Marcus Gorgon 

https://soundcloud.com/marcus-gorgon/see-my?si=b77b620a37194119adc347bc901a4511&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

and 

https://soundcloud.com/marcus-gorgon/alone?si=424ccd6acc0342e989995a659c27eb8a&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

, another co-founder of Thrashing Zombies (refer to profile), is acclaimed as the best electric guitarist and songwriter in East Gippsland, if not the best guitarist the Latrobe Valley region. M.G`s  talent remains relatively unknown at the moment, this will change in the future. Keith Fontane 

https://soundcloud.com/whoarethethrashingzombies/thrashnig-zombies-too-crazy-feat-terry-cunxus?si=da5555a2916e426396e5fc076bf38ade&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

, who has been leading the band throughout the years, is a highly prolific music producer, having churned out hundreds of songs in collaboration with the legendary Johnny Farqua juanoss  

https://soundcloud.com/keithplayshisorganfortz/thrashing-zombies-in-the-zone-vivaldi-2020-redux?si=c4455d9606644c94a135c63f93b519f4&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

a members who contribute uniquely to its musical prowess. Initally primary role has Been the band dealer and dancer now the adlib master vocalist and exceptional drummer, coupled with his possessed bass-playing skills, adds a dynamic energy to the performances. Professor Cockington 

https://soundcloud.com/whoarethethrashingzombies/surfing-the-reaper?si=32d387cc5a714c27aaf6f4d7c085788d&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing


, characterized as the genius wordsmith of the group, effortlessly crafts off-the-cuff lyrics reminiscent of the legendary Mike Patton, Hobbies are reading and riding on trains. Then there is Maestro Dave (refer to profile), the musical genius who produces stellar songs at his own pace, setting himself apart as a level above the rest. Notably, in the future, Maestro Dave's DNA is utilized for robotics technology to infuse a sense of musicality, underlining his significance in the band's legacy. Maestro is currently investigating the potential transmission points and viral loads of farts. HE questions weather the world is ready for a fart pandemic.

https://soundcloud.com/maestro-dave/arse-mask?si=a94145d6dd344399bd2523f6ca995de2&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

Indeed, TZ Studios serves as a gateway for Tommy Zygote express diverse his range of musical talent and creative geniuse developmentally. There is a variety of entwined Sound cloud TZ profiles That the collective efforts of individuals like Marcus Gorgon, Keith Fontain, the versatile vocalist and drummer of JF¥, and the innovative Maestro Dave who is a musical time bomb, Thrashing Zombies continues to push boundaries in the music industry and shape the future of music with their unparalleled skills and contributions.
https://soundcloud.com/jfjrockslimpdickstudios/johnny-farqau-juanoss-fall-in-may?si=b5bc3fc7e204484fabb78b07de98cc4b&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing
What is God? That’s a question that’s as vast as the universe itself, yet ever so intimate to the soul. I like to think of God not as some fiery old man on a cloud but as the living essence born from the accumulation of souls. Souls, those mysterious things that flicker inside us all. When we pass, our bodies lie there lifeless, machines that have simply stopped working. But what if the mechanics of a living being are actually a grand attempt to hold onto the soul until it reaches maturity? It’s as if our flesh and blood are just temporary vessels, imperfect but necessary, to nurture the soul until it’s ready to be released back into the cosmos.

Early souls are the most privileged—they’re fresh, pure, untainted by the messiness of lived experience. They float into this existence like morning dew, pristine and untouched. As humans grow older, and even as animals live their lives, there’s a chance for the soul to become tainted—by bad choices, by evil, by the negligence or cruelty of the flesh it inhabits. And then there are those who, through dark intentions, release souls at will—call them engrained in evil or madness. Souls themselves aren’t punished in the traditional sense. Instead, they are refreshed, cleansed, reborn in ways we barely understand.

The word purgatory always struck me as primitive. It evokes this harsh, gloomy waiting room for the damned. But picture instead a welcoming place —a spa for the soul. Souls come and go as they please. They are visited by familiar spirits, old friends and family, sharing the quiet eternity of this in-between realm. Here, souls mature, gather strength, prepare for their next journey. Over time, these spirits congregate in one place, forming what I call the soul nucleus—a tiny mass, no bigger than the head of a matchstick. This nucleus is what powers God, what constitutes the essence of life itself. It spans across sector 2 of our universe and into the 69th template of the multiverse. God, then, is not a singular being but a collective energy born of all souls, a living consciousness woven from the history and destiny of every living spark.

Now, let me introduce you to Tommy Zygote—yeah, that's me. My journey is no ordinary one. It all began on the infamous camping trip with my band, Thrashing Zombies, late one summer in 2027. The band, Thrashing Zombies, was composed of an eclectic bunch: Marcus Gorgon, with his thunderous riffs and relentless drive; Keith Fontane, our lyrical mastermind and rhythm slayer; Johnny Farqua Juanoss, the wild card on bass with a flair for the dramatic; Maestro Dave, whose electronic wizardry gave us that futuristic edge; and then there was Professor Cockington—our older, wiser guide who somehow managed to keep us grounded amid our chaos.
We were on the cusp of global notoriety, a worldwide phenomenon in the late 2020s, crafting anthems that didn’t just rock but resonated deeply with the collision of humanity and technology. Our music was the thread weaving humans and robots together—robots like vacuum cleaners still slaves to servitude, but something bigger was coming. Something like the robot uprising whispered in back alleys, and then the looming threat of the Fluctopus invasion from the outer realms.

Among our quirky yet meaningful tracks were gems like “I Am Not Just a Robot Dick! I Am a Robot Too,” a cheeky anthem that poked fun at robot identity and pride, “Dance Like Your Circuits Are on Fire (But Don’t Short-Circuit),” which became a rave favorite across both humans and machines, and “Metal Head, Human Heart, Zero Chill,” a rebellious tune capturing the hybrid spirit we all shared. These songs weren’t just playful; they were our way of building a bridge between worlds.

During that ill-fated camping trip, something unimaginable happened—a time travel incident that would change everything. It started when we stumbled upon an abandoned particle accelerator nestled deep in the woods. We had no business being near something so complex, but curiosity took hold. Against better judgment, I fiddled with the controls, my fingers guided by a mix of adrenaline and foolishness. Suddenly, time bent and twisted around me as I slipped through a semiwormhole. The experience was disorienting. I felt myself unravel, my physical form dissolving into pure soul.

I was thrust into purgatory, that sanctuary for souls, and stayed there for what felt like twenty-seven years. Time in purgatory is slippery, mysterious—the days and years fold into one another. I met countless souls, some young, untouched; others weary with the weight of their earthly sins. It was a place of reflection but also of preparation. I learned from them, shared stories, and found parts of myself I never knew existed. Then, almost without warning, I was called back to the earthly plane.

I returned just two months before the infamous robot uprising, a returning human soul in human form but carrying all the wisdom and power of my time in purgatory. The world was on edge. Machines that once obediently cleaned floors and served quietly had started to rise. The threat of the Fluctopus invasion was whispered in secret bunkers and underground forums. It was a pivotal moment in history.

Thrashing Zombies became more than a band. We became a beacon—a global anthem for coexistence. Our music, our message, urged humanity and robots to find harmony. Robots weren’t just slaves or tools; they were potential partners in the dance of life. It wasn’t a perfect peace—vacuum cleaners remained slaves for a while longer—but the tide was shifting. Our songs became the soundtrack for a new era, blending raw human emotion and the cool precision of technology.

Reflecting on those years, I realize that God, the soul nucleus, and our interconnected existence aren’t separate. They’re intertwined threads in the fabric of everything we are. The soul’s journey—our journey—doesn’t end at death. It transforms, refreshes in purgatory, and returns, ready to face life anew. This cycle is what powers the essence of life itself. It’s the heart of the cosmos, the truth that underpins everything I’ve seen and experienced.

My journey through the soul-made god and back to life has changed how I see the world—and how I live in it. The music, the battles, the invasions—all pieces of a much grander story. And through it all, the souls, our souls, remain the core, the spark that drives both creation and destruction, order and chaos.

So when you ask, “What is God?” remember—it’s not just a deity or concept but the living culmination of every soul that has ever lived, breathed, evolved, and returned. It’s a matchstick’s head of everything, pulsing with life, consciousness, and hope across the infinities of space and time. And in that truth, I found my purpose. To be a voice for the souls, a bridge between worlds, a warrior of harmony in the face of darkness. I am Tommy Zygote. And this is my story.

New tracks tagged #S.B.T.R. - Stoner Bass Tech Rock