Illuminati Manic Moon May Day 2023

. . . If you are receiving this, I'm transmitting from the year four two zero four. If you are receiving this broadcast I've sent to every known outpost in the year two zero two two. Soylent Green is . . . People. It's made out of people.

This message has been encoded with exact time-space coordinates for the transneptunian disco techno singularity. Reverse each curse word and place it behind a sheet of paper on a mirror. You will see written in invisible blood "you are a fucking asshole". Though, "asshole" will be written in all caps, and "fucking" will be in bold.

The yellow submarine sandwich in the sky is crumbling due to a faulty toaster. All toast in the forty-third century comes prebuttered. This was not accounted for in construction of the portal. As a result, rednecks will turn into bluenecks. Peacocks will become shitdicks. All light and matter will converge, though at different places and different times. It will appear as if everything is normal. The sweat in my armpits and the relative humidity in this apartment are merging to form an offense against the remaining napkin holders sent by the President's first husband, Moniqachareaux Leviticus Minor. When the parade ends, you will have an exit.

Only the brown clown knows how to get down.