Wherein I make a plea based on an entire lifetime of you assholes trying to make your problems, my problem.

If I could snap my fingers and make those two ideologies, Judaism & Islam, disappear, I’d have done decades ago and the world would be full of wonderful white children playing in endless fields of wonder.

I really need that finger snapping power.

This recording and every moment I have ever devoted to these two insane concepts has been an utter waste of the miracle of existence.

And yet here we’re are.

Again.

Lame.

No refunds.

Wherein I describe the weirdness I experienced when I kinda accidentally became a photographer of naked people, strange rules I made in order to be “professional”, how everything changed this week when I used AI tools to help me fix some of the art that I hated, and how it dawned on me that these tools will for sure result in every half attractive woman, and even some who aren’t, ending up naked, gyrating, on someone’s phone or computer.

It’s inevitable.

The online sex work market is likely going to dry up.

That’s probably a good thing, but the replacement might be worse.

Or better.

Either way, it’s going to happen at increasing levels.

Get comfortable with it, or stay uncomfortable like me.

Your choice.

Fun coincidence that this recording ended up being 1h:11m long.

No refunds.

Wherein I aimlessly ponder the concept of imprisonment, solitary confinement, solitude vs loneliness & why the heck large groups make me feel more isolated than being totally by myself.

Why do most people hate being alone?

Even the word “alone” seems to scare people, so much, they might change the words of a song to avoid it.

Anyway, that’s a way for me to say that I’m posting a raw, one take, recording of a song at the end.

I’m not a good singer, and my piano playing is sub par at best, but, you get what you pay for.

No refunds.

========

Good As Gold

2025 merkley/coomer

underground,

so beautiful,

lying there,

good as gold.

and I swear,

on my word,

I will dare

to unfold

when you play your ukulele

on the promenade

I feel the symptoms of your soul

Underground underground

don’t you try and tempt me

when I’d rather be alone

alone

safe & sound

immutable

lying here

still as stone

To return

and appear

light as a feather

dark as coal

When you play your ukulele

on the promenade

I feel the symptoms of your soul

Underground underground

Don’t you try and tempt me

When I’d rather be alone

alone, alone,

alone.

Wherein I discuss the recent human phenomenon of everyone you ever flushed out of your life, for good or bad reasons, being able to, or being kinda forced into, spying on you & knowing things they would never ever have known about you without breaking numerous laws and making life really uncomfortable for everyone.

And we act like it is normal.

It isn’t.

Well, not historically speaking.

No way it can be healthy.

Am I nuts?

No refunds.

Wherein I tell some stories that I should probably keep to myself, but, for whatever reason, I feel compelled to share, to give just a little context to the whole “eating babies” thing.

If you like Gavin Rossdale you will hate this story.

If you like Gwen Stefani, you are likely to think less of me for telling some “secrets” here.

Look, my life is my story, and if you know me & I know you, you are part of my story & I assert my right to tell it as truthfully as I can.

Let the chips fall where they may.

No refunds.

Wherein I tell a story about how I came to be closely involved in the horror known as “Gender Affirming Care”

It seems like many are still in denial about it all and are looking the other way.

That’s not good.

Eye on the ball.

Yes, I wanted to say “balls”.

This isn’t a funny episode.

No refunds.

Wherein I tell some personal stories of alleged righteous indignation, passionate piety, & cringeworthy chastisement of people who didn’t deserve it & compare those feeling that drove me with what I am witnessing online in relation to the growing lore surrounding Jeffrey Epstein.

Yes, I said LORE, aka FICTION, aka IMAGINARY TALES.

Some of the stories are true.

Most of them, you have been careful lead to invent in your own mind.

I don’t know why I’m compelled to say the unpopular thing, but there it is.

Sue me.

No refunds.

Wherein I explain what should be very obvious about the personal life details of Roger Goodell’s decision to let the anti-white, dreadlocked social justice warrior, Jay-Z, who happens to be married to Beyoncé, run the Super Bowl Halftime Show to the exclusion of all White People.

This is my most perfect analysis so far.

I’m patting myself on the back as I type this.

Figuratively.

I need both thumbs to type.

No refunds.

Wherein I explain exactly why Puerto Rico can NEVER be granted US Statehood.

Not ever.

Never.

No way.

Also, time for whitey to get super pridey.

No refunds.

Wherein I theorize how Rubin, Milo, Greenwald, Fuentes, Ali, Jesse, Shapiro, Levin, Loomer, Elijah, Smith, Owens, & the rest of the “right wing” degenerates gained such a foothold amongst self described conservatives.

We allowed it, and promoted it.

Well, at least I did.

But why?

What made me/us think that was a good idea?

Well, I have some ideas that you might be able to predict.

No refunds.