Breakfast of Insanity: The Wi-Fi Connection to Murderous Thoughts In the modern age, when reality often toes the line of absurdity, few things spark more intrigue than the hypothetical correlations between technology, insanity, and unspeakable actions. Tommy Zygote's latest EP, "What's for Breakfast," is a multifaceted exploration of dubious characters throughout the 20th century, weaving themes of insanity tightly into a fabric interlaced with Wi-Fi signals, bananas, and the balmy heat of summer. This exploration is not merely a musical endeavor but serves as a surreal commentary on how certain elements—both tangible and abstract—can converge to unleash chaos upon the world.The Wi-Fi Stratosphere: A Signal of MadnessImagine, for a moment, the Wi-Fi signals that permeate our environment—waves of invisible energy bouncing off every surface, curling through our lives like sinister whispers. This scenario presents a peculiar premise: what if these signals were more than mere conduits of information? What if they were catalysts for the ebb and flow of human emotion, nudging us towards madness?The Impulse of the Wi-Fi SignalWhen we consider insanity, we must understand the intricacies of impulse control. The brain’s chemistry plays a pivotal role—particularly the balance of calcium ions, which facilitate neurotransmitter release. Wi-Fi waves, in their invisible form, could disrupt this delicate balance. Think of how millions of devices communicate simultaneously, creating a cacophony of data that saturates our atmospheres.What if, amid this electromagnetic symphony, our minds become susceptible to impulsive behaviors? The more we interact with our devices connected to this web of signals, the more our brains wire themselves to respond in ways that may defy logic. A seemingly innocent text message could snowball into an irrational outburst. History is rife with incidents where inexplicable behavior coincides with advances in technology, showing us how the psychological fabric can unravel under new pressures.The Fluctpus and Dream Clouds: Energy and LunacyThe technological leaps post-Robot Wars, characterized by the emergence of the Fluctpus—a bizarre, gelatinous entity that feeds on discarded bits of data—intensified these connections. The Fluctpus, having harnessed “dream clouds” for energy, became a potent symbol of how far we've strayed from sanity. Dream clouds, the collective unconscious made rapid and tangible through technology, offered glimpses of forgotten desires, suppressed memories, and sinister impulses.Now, imagine the Fluctpus unleashing its dream clouds into the air, fogging our perceptions with vague and sinister thoughts. This new energy source creates a feedback loop whereby those exposed to the Wi-Fi now find their impulses exaggerated and whims driven by unseen forces. It is in this realm of skewed perceptions and heightened paranoia that we begin to understand how madness creeps in, devouring the innocent in its wake.Historical Context: The 1960s and BeyondThe connection to the 1960s provides further context. A decade notoriously rife with upheaval and absurdity, this era bore witness to monumental disasters—like the Lindbergh kidnapping and the Yancey River damming—brought about by a matrix of societal tension and technological advancement. It was a time when the burgeoning space race and the escalating war in Vietnam created a frenzied atmosphere, mirroring our past and present:The Lindbergh Disaster: A crime of passion fueled by madness, the kidnapping of Charles Lindbergh Jr. starkly illustrates how societal pressures can drive individuals into a frenzy. Wi-Fi today might as well be that same societal pressure—immediate, relentless, and invasive, making people who obsessively check their devices susceptible to the distortions of reality.

What`s for breakfast

What's for breakfast?

"What I soon learned was that Tommy claimed to be a time traveler, a rogue agent sent to guide me down a path of chaos and destruction.“I’m here to help you unleash the beast within, Charlie,” he’d say, grinning as if he knew some cosmic secret. Tommy fed me stories of a world altered by music and madness, where creativity blossomed in the soil of despair. I lapped it up, hungry for more than the mundane life I had lived. It felt like a twisted fairy tale, one where I was both the hero and the monster.As the LSD kicked in, my perception twisted and turned. I became acutely aware of the energies swirling around us—colors danced, sounds reverberated, and thoughts morphed into vivid images. It was intoxicating, terrifying, and I felt an odd sense of vulnerability. I had always been a survivor, but now I was exposed, raw, open to the manipulation of others.III. The Highs and Lows of PsychedelicsThe C.I.A. wasn’t just interested in my charisma or my talent for manipulation; they wanted control. LSD transformed me, shifting my reality, making me susceptible to the influences that surrounded me. It unraveled the fabric of my sanity, allowing them to weave it back together in their own dark design. During one of my trips, Tommy played a song that would become a haunting echo in my mind, “Let’s Thank the C.I.A. for Inventing LSD.” The catchy tune, filled with irony, made me vibrate with a sense of rebellion and acknowledgment.It was during one of these highs that I began to feel the rift within me widen. With every dose of acid, I was losing more of myself. The voices grew stronger, the shadows darker. I learned of the Tate-LaBianca murders, tales of blood and chaos that danced sinisterly through my mind, but they were never solely mine. They belonged to a design, a game.IV. Convergence with KaczynskiThe months passed, and the ambition built in me like a fever pitch. I learned about Ted Kaczynski—another pawn caught in the gears of societal torment. They’d fed him the same psychological experiments at Harvard, molding his fragile mind into a weapon. I felt a kinship with him, knowing that we were both victims of a greater ambition, each puppet in the hands of bureaucratic masters.I wondered if they had whispered to him too, manipulating him under the guise of education. I could envision him, isolated in his cabin, fueled by the agony of mental anguish and anger, just as I had once been, before Tommy. It made me question the very nature of our existence, whether we were ever truly in control of our destinies or merely pieces on a chessboard.V. The Descent into MadnessAs Operation Chaos tightened its grip, I became lost between reality and the numerous layers they had conjured. The more I indulged in the fragmented version of myself, the heavier the chains of expectation weighed upon me. In the midst of this swirling chaos, Tommy pressed on, coaxing me toward an apocalyptic liberation I naïvely embraced.“Embrace the madness!” he’d chant, spurring me on like a demon in disguise. “You hold the key to your freedom! The world needs to see!” But those weren’t my aims, I realized with a shudder. I was just a man wanting to be loved, yet here I was about to become a harbinger of horror.The infamous night came as a culmination of all these influences—a fateful convergence of circumstances and choices. As I looked around at my followers, caught in the throes of euphoric insanity, I couldn’t help but feel both powerful and powerless. the tab of LSD, the guiding whispers of Tommy Zygote, and what happened under that night sky. It’s all a blur, yet some fragments break through the fog. I can hear the echoes of that terrible song, reverberating around me: “Let’s thank the C.I.A. for inventing L.S.D.”The truth is, I never truly understood the full scope of their designs, nor did I grasp the extent of my exploitation. Each action I took was both a manifestation of free will and a display of manipulative control."  - C.M.

Whats for breakfast

Thank the C.I.A for inventing L.S.D.

Thank the C.I.A. for inventing L.S.D.

The Science Behind Slumbering Clouds and the Myth of Heaven.

In a realm not so far from our own, the ordinary act of sleep transforms into an extraordinary phenomenon. Each night, when humanity drifts off into slumber, something magical occurs: their consciousness evolves into ethereal clouds, visible only to those who know how to perceive them. This phenomenon is rooted in the fascinating concept of bio-morphic energy, which posits that human thoughts and dreams, when intertwined with the universe's energy fields, manifest as wispy formations in the sky. Scientists in this extraordinary world theorized that these clouds are a byproduct of neural activity, fueled by the body's own luminescent fields during deep sleep.These clouds, however, are not mere figments of imagination or simple weather patterns; they are a vital source of power for an alien life form known as the fluctopus. This unique species, with its translucent tentacles and luminescent skin, has the remarkable ability to harness the energy emitted from these consciousness clouds. They can manipulate this energy to sustain their life, heal themselves, and even communicate across dimensions. The fluctopus is an interdimensional traveler that thrives in the liminal space between dreams and reality, feeding on the raw energy produced by sleeping humans.The existence of this other dimension, known as the "Dreamscape," is often dismissed as myth. Yet the ancients spoke of it in hushed tones, referring to it as “Heaven,” where souls would ascend and mingle with the divine. It was an idyllic place where one's consciousness could roam free, a serene contrast to the chaos of the waking world. As stories spread across cultures, the myth of Heaven became intricately woven into the fabric of human belief, representing hope, peace, and reunion with lost loved ones.Perhaps the most notable figure to embrace this celestial phenomenon is Tommy Zygote, the enigmatic founder of the iconic band thrashing zombie Renowned for his electrifying performances, Tommy is equally famous for his pre-gig ritual: slumbering among the clouds. Before every show, he seeks out the highest peak, where he can lay back and close his eyes, allowing his consciousness to drift into the swirling, luminous clouds that dance overhead. For Tommy, this isn't just a leisurely hobby; it’s a source of inspiration. Each night in the cloud-spheres, he gathers energy, igniting creativity that fuels his band’s chaotic rhythms and harmonies.As he slumbers, Tommy encounters vibrant dreamscapes filled with sonic landscapes and surreal creatures that reflect the raw intensity of his music. In these visions, the fluctopus often appears, swirling around him in a familial embrace. They share melodies that resonate through his very being, weaving their otherworldly vibrations into his own music. By the time he awakens atop the mountain, he feels reinvigorated and brimming with fresh ideas, ready to unleash his wild spirit on the stage.In a world where dreams serve a higher purpose, and consciousness takes flight amongst the clouds, the boundary between myth and reality blurs. Tommy Zygote, armed with the energy of the fluctopus and the essence of the Dreamscape, embodies the belief that through dreams, we can connect with other dimensions and forge a path to creativity. With each note he plays, he not only brings joy to his fans but also pays homage to the mysterious, cloud-bound dreams that sustain both humanity and the fantastical beings that coexist in the ether.

Whats for Breakfast?

Slumbering Clouds and the myth of heaven

Slumbering Clouds and the Myth of Heaven.

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

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".

Tripple C Killer

Triple C.Killer.

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.

Secret Empire

Cyber Prison

Bill Cosby's life, marked by significant success and public admiration, Born William Henry Cosby Jr. in 1937, he rose to prominence as a comedic actor and television host.  His groundbreaking 1960s-1980s series "The Cosby Show" portrayed a seemingly perfect African-American family, becoming a cultural touchstone and a source of significant pride for many.  This success garnered him immense respect and admiration, making him a household name and a highly influential figure in American society.  He was celebrated for his philanthropic work through the Cosby Scholarship Fund and other endeavors, further solidifying his positive public image.  He established a strong presence and a wide cultural recognition.

We need not mention his mistakes in life. He did the crime and did the time. I am looking forward to the return of Bill and His friend fat Albert.

Tommy Zygote went back to the future past and erased the Cosby incident. Although the term "I have been cosbyied" still worth hanging onto, in some respect the distasteful incidents were almost warranted to develop such a cultural phrase of the time. Not unlike Tommy Zygote doing a Bradbury in the music industry. Not discovered until mid 2025.

What's for Breakfast

Bing Bong Cosby Song

Cast of Characters:
Cgmaness – @user-419254289-15129531 – Chris – acoustic guitar, drums, lyrics, vocals, and composition
J.J. Terrell-- @j-j-terrell—JJ-- organ and piano
Entheogenic Psychonaught (Josh Clary)– @josh-clary-1 – four string fretless bass
This song started all the way back in October, when Chris came up with lyrics and a vocal melody to go over his acoustic guitar composition. He also added the drum beat that carries it along, and contrasts Josh's bass part, which he added next. JJ came along shortly after and added his twinkling piano and ambiance thickening organ. 
  We had all these parts down, but for some reason this sat on the shelf for a few months. Finally we decided to dust it off. Chris mixed it for us expertly, as always, and we decided to put a ribbon on it. 
 This is an example of Chris's brilliant songwriting, shared with a couple of other musicians who are mutual admirers of his work. This is also a trio within the Eclectic Collective family, as we sometimes do side projects with different iterations of the group. We all hope you enjoy listening to this as much as we enjoyed creating it.  
  
Original lyrics by cgmaness:

Let the night tuck you under,
When you feel you can't go on.
When you want to be happy,
I will be what you want...
And, it's you that makes me happy.
When I'm down on my bad sign.
Washing out all the tie-dye from the blue sky.

Let The Night (Eclectic Collective)

Charlie can't surf in space. 

Influences: Gorillaz, Soul Coughing, Deee-Lite

Neptune's Waves

Original
I first sang this about a year ago. But it was with a little bad English and bad sound, so I tried again :)
Vocals and Lyrics by me
Music made in Garageband


Lyrics:

1
They said she was a temptress
That she would seduce all men
She had a bad reputation
And not a single friend...

2
She had a perfect body
Nice make up on her face
Always so stylishly dressed
But the women called her trash...

Chorus:
She was exposed to jealousy
Was never taken seriously
She was way to pretty
In a world full of jealousy

3
All the men loved her
The way she moved and looked
But the women hated her
Was afraid their men would get hooked...

4
She tried to tone it down
The nice clothes and make up were thrown
But no matter what she did
She was still way to pretty...

Chorus x 2:
She was exposed to jealousy
Was never taken seriously
She was way to pretty
In a world full of jealousy

In a world full of jealousy...

In a world full of jealousy...

Jealousy   (Original ,Remix)

This is a live version of Coming Up For Air recorded at the Con Club in Lewew using a TASCAM DR-05X on 19th April 25. Not the best of mixes, but not bad considering it's recorded on a small handheld device.

Coming Up For Air (Live) 250419

car toons

Let’s not mince words here. Trump is the embodiment of corruption, greed, and incompetence. He’s a man who has spent his entire life looking out for himself, exploiting others, and leaving chaos in his wake. As De Niro so eloquently put it: *“He’s a dog. He’s a pig. He’s a con. He’s a bullsh*t artist. He’s a mutt who doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”* This isn’t just about politics—it’s about morality. It’s about standing up to a man who has no respect for the rule of law, no respect for the truth, and no respect for the American people.  

Trump’s presidency was a disaster. He divided the country, emboldened hate, and failed to deliver on his promises. He’s a man who thrives on chaos, who lies with every breath, and who cares only about his own ego. As De Niro said: *“He’s a punk, he’s a dog, he’s a mutt. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s an idiot. He’s a fool.”* And yet, here we are, facing the possibility of him returning to power. We cannot let that happen. We cannot allow this man to continue to poison our democracy.  

This is not just about Trump—it’s about the people who enable him. The sycophants, the cowards, and the opportunists who stand by his side and allow his corruption to flourish. They are just as guilty as he is. As De Niro said: *“They’re all scum. They’re all mutts. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”* We need to hold them accountable. We need to stand up and fight back.  

The stakes are too high to sit on the sidelines. This is about the soul of our nation. It’s about protecting our democracy, our values, and our future. We cannot afford to let Trump and his enablers win. We must vote, we must organize, and we must make our voices heard. As De Niro said: *“We’re gonna fight back. We’re gonna fight back with everything we’ve got.”*  

So let’s do this. Let’s come together and defeat Trump once and for all. Let’s show the world that we are better than this. That we will not tolerate corruption, lies, and hate. That we will stand up for what’s right. As De Niro said: *“We’re gonna win. We’re gonna win because we have to.”*  

This is our moment. This is our fight. Let’s get to work.  

#DefeatTrump #VoteHimOut #NotMyPresident #DeNiroWasRight

PERFECT WORLD

A new track idea I will be refining and experimenting with. I have added an updated mix (11.06.2025) with added lead guitar parts. Please feel free to leave a comment as I really appreciate your feedback.

Mental Escapade (Demo)

Earth

Lyrics

Yeah, they talk about a pot of gold, a treasure at the end, right?
 But all I see are broken roads, where futures never mend, 
Paved with promises of light, a yellow brick they swore was true, 
But out here in the concrete night, ain't no damn dream comin' through. 
Chasin' rainbows on the blacktop, where the sirens scream and blare, 
Another whisper, soft and empty, vanished into thin, polluted air. 
Worked my fingers to the bone, put my soul into the quest, 
But the only thing I'm findin' is a permanent arrest 
Of potential, of ambition, shackled tight and laid to waste, 
This ain't no land of wishes, just a bitter, lingering taste.

Somewhere over the rainbow, they said the skies were crystal blue, 
But the canvas was a con, the pigments fake, the whole damn view. 
Just another twisted story, sold to souls that longed to fly, 
Now we’re stuck beneath this grey horizon, watchin' all our good dreams die. 
The vivid hues they promised, just a monochrome despair, 
Left with only heavy burdens, and the ghosts of what ain't there.

Used to stare up at the ceiling, see that spectrum in my mind,
 A different path, a brighter ending, leaving all the hurt behind. 
They said "reach for the stars," well, my hands just clutched at air, 
Every single aspiration, just a burden I still bear. 
That "somewhere over the rainbow" turned into a haunting sound,

Of opportunities I squandered, never truly coming 'round.
The echoes of the laughter from the life that could've been, 
Just another silent whisper, where a hopeful dream had been. 
Underneath a cold, dead moon, not a sun, just endless blight, 
Just the wreckage of illusions in this never-ending night.

Shattered Spectrum

This is inspired from a trip to beautiful Sweeden and its Lagom lifestyle. All is in the measure. Hope this gently swings for you.
Ok, Ok, you may be right
Ok, Ok , You may be wrong
Ok, Ok, The sun is bright
Ok, Ok, Everything'll be alright

Ok, Ok, you may be be rich
Ok, Ok you may be poor
Ok, Ok, Take it easy
Don't let the sun drive you crazy 

Ok, Ok, you may be black
Ok, Ok, you may be white
Ok, Ok, Don't get angry 
Ok, Ok, let's be happy (together)

Ok, Ok, you may feel down
Ok, Ok, you may feel high
Ok, Ok, don't you worry
Ok, Ok, let it be, the lagum way !

OK,  OK (you may be right !)

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.

Slumbering Clouds and the Myth of Heaven.

Tommy Zygote S.B.T.R.

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