The Opinion Machine???

Wherein I sloppily propose that collectivism needn’t be seen as the enemy of individualism & vice versa by revealing stupid fashion choices, pink zebras, & peaceful loads of napping baby animals. Everything is fine when your belly is full and your feet are warm. Pretend you’re my therapist if you want. No refunds.

Wherein I boast & brag about getting blocked by one of the many witches of the new world while making a case for why AI & mRNA technologies should be allowed to proceed in a relatively unfucked with manner so long as Americans keep their guns. It doesn’t bother me that you don’t listen to these. I don’t listen to your podcast either. Most of yall are weirdos anyway 😉 No refunds.

Wherein I preach about focusing on reality rather than the imaginary BS that credentialed charlatans want you to believe. Plenty of irony and hypocrisy. Too much throat clearing. I don’t edit. No refunds.

Wherein I launch into a frothy unhinged rant about the fires, friend who are possibly Feds and demand that every person be held accountable even if they are retarded and can’t aim a space laser. None of this should be construed as advice or an incitement to violence. No way. DO NOT PULL OUT KAREN BASS’ FINGERNAILS. Spittle detected. No refunds.

Wherein I sermonize about the alleged redemption of Mark Zuckerberg, speculate about testosterone & stepdad dykes, & wonder if the right wing has adopted the victim fetishism well established on the left. Shout out to Demi Moore. I say “always” ten seconds after saying how dumb it is to say “always”. Whatever. No refunds.

Wherein I theorize about the compulsion to theorize about terror while wondering why we don’t see more “terror” from military guys, and ask why my fellow citizens are so tolerant of Israel & Islam dragging America into their endless BS. Cartoon dynamite is mentioned. Kareem Abdul Jabbar’s real name is revealed, (it has Jr. on the end of it) Item sold as is. No refunds.

Wherein I conduct a psyop on the topic of psyops in which I fantasize about the whole world being magically unable to speak for a week, then come to the real time realization that I ended up like my uncle Harold whose only friends were voices coming out of his ham radio. Weird microphone moments. Awkward TMI. No refunds.

Wherein I not so subtly try to influence you into influencing the influencers through good hearted, supportive nudgery, while I demonstrate my impeccably high double standards. Paradoxes galore with bonus oxymorons. I am, indeed a moron. No refunds.

Wherein I wonder if “living each day like it’s your last” is a good idea, preach about learning to enjoy failure, & get snubbed by my favorite pigeon. Then I share a one take live recording of song I wrote this morning about New Year’s Day called “Same Old Me” The middle B key buzzes. I’m no Whitney Houston. No overdubs. No refunds. ========== Same Old Me 2025 merkley I It’s New Year’s Day, IM...

Wherein I rant about the phrase “none of your problems are because someone else is a billionaire” Special shout outs to wussy pigeons & squirrels who think hawks are their problem. Nobody is forcing you to listen to these. No refunds.

Wherein I babble on about Americanism & why it feels weird to be patriotic about America when most Americans I know are totally unamerican & some foreign cab drivers are among the most American people I’ve met. Don’t expect to agree with me. Guaranteed to annoy most of you. No refunds.

Wherein I do my best impersonation of the bravest of warriors by posting my real address online, you know, like the white pages, then ramble on like a shell shocked vet about the freedom Gen X had to ride bikes through the flaming hell of a high trust society. Of course they have to be “white” pages. Shut your face. No refunds.

Wherein I clumsily try to make a case for AI art tools ultimately steering art into a more “human” direction. Some sloppy analogies & contradictions thrown in at no extra charge. Whatever. No refunds.

Wherein I not so loudly wonder about the heated immigration debate, weigh the merits of merit and suggest that the morality quotient might be sorely missing from the whole thing. Lots of pauses, slilence and saying “you know” too much. I don’t know when to shut up. No refunds.

Wherein I blither & blather about the immorality of outsourcing murder while extolling the controversial possible virtue of actively making society a better place by taking matters into your own hands, you know, like the cops & military men do every day, to much acclaim. Lots of line walking. Tangents & repetitive whatevers. No refunds.

Wherein I pontificate about Christmas in a family with 17 siblings, countless divorces, dead adulterating parents, & COVID criminal nurse sisters who will likely never ask for forgiveness & I will therefore never likely pretend to give it. There is plenty of petty and not so petty shit talk. More tangents than usual. This ain’t even the half of it. It ain’t pretty. No refunds. Merry Christ...

Wherein I declare my superiority because I unfollow people on the internet, ramble on about how weird it is that anyone follows anyone while unironically making this very thing to post on the internet to be seen by people who “follow” me. There is no reason to listen to this. I’m retarded. No refunds.

Wherein I wonder who the people are who accept free donations & magically become obedient servants to whoever gave it to them when I don’t see many corporate workers who honestly work for their paycheck. I’m not very smart. You know this. No refunds.

Wherein I sermonize about comfort, the historical lack thereof, the current day entitlements to it & pitfalls of not having to fight for it. I kinda pretend to be a tough guy for a bit. I meander. No refunds.

Wherein I sermonize about Doomerism, explain what it is, why I am predisposed to it, why I block & unfollow doomers & make excuses for my extremely high double standards. Tangents, blatant hypocrisies, you name it, this soap box is especially sudsy. No refunds.

Wherein I rant about whether or not anyone ever walked on the moon, and how flat earthers seem pretty disconnected with their senses and how it’s totally ok to say “I don’t know” and even ok-er to say “I totally know” because your anecdotal experience is an unfathomable miracle despite what Van Allen does or doesn’t do with his radiation belt. Tangents & non sequiters abound. Very little wisdo...

How Allegedly Powerful Women Are Absolutely Crushed By Sex In The Workplace, Powerful Men Are Easily Crushed By Bad Dates & Apple Does It’s Best To Pretend They Are Different. Aka: Feigning Powerlessness Is Insulting To Everyone.

Full Mean Sisters, Half Mean Sisters, & Step Mean Sisters. Aka: Relax, This Probably Isn’t About You, But It Might Be.

How Catastrophic Thinking Wastes Everyone’s Time, Sucks Up All Your Energy & Never Solves A Single Problem Aka: Use That Energy To Actually Fix Shit

It’s Pretty Good For Emergencies, Trigger Pulling & Wrestling But Not Much Else. Aka: Uncertainty Is More Fun.