Q Report: I, Q
From: Agent Q (K00)
To: Planet Earth.
Re: The Nonsense.
All Of You,
I am so tired. It is a weariness that reaches down into the very depths of my soul and drowns it in cold water. Tries to, anyhow. Every few minutes I am able to break the surface and take brief sips of air between the immersions. Then it is down there again. Fighting against the urge to succumb to the numbness. To close my eyes for the last time and sleep forevermore. Despite this, I will never stop fighting. I will never succumb. When they find my body it will be taught with energy. Like a spring ready to explode. IF they find my body. Those fiends.
There are not an infinite amount of stupid people on this planet, but some days it certainly feels like it. Like everyone has been huffing glue in the AM, ready to make things worse for the remainder of the day. As if stupidity was the latest fad to take hold of the planet, like books, drugs, and the internet. Somehow these mouth-breathing knuckle-draggers manage to clothe and feed themselves and a disturbing amount can afford phones. They use those phones to share their awful thoughts with others. Sometimes these horrible people join together to form a collective of hideous, pedantic, mean-spirited oafs. QAnon, for instance.
Imagine you had written a story and that into this tale you poured your body, mind, and spirit. Wrote it in an attempt to change the paradigm of existence. Picture it as a book that traveled from chapter to chapter all moving towards an accessible and clear truth; that life is worth fighting and dying for. That whatever flaws we possess, humanity is beautiful, and in our ignorance and folly we are sometimes at our most perfect. Imagine you wrote a story for the world and then it was stolen by a monstrous few. Taken from you and perverted, distorted, and monetized into a sad conspiracy meant to sell t-shirts. Into a laughable tragedy. Imagine the work that erupted from your soul being transformed into steaming bullshit.
The Book of Q was never going to be The Grapes of Wrath. That was not the point. It was an homage to The Three Musketeers, a story of a handful of heroes who stood against impossible odds with honor and bravery. All for one and one for all. It told the story of a distant future, where the super rich and powerful had escaped from Earth when she needed them most to hide in space. After 300 years they returned and wanted it back, believing that it was theirs for the taking. That Space Force returned and met with unexpected resistance. Because heroes will always stand against oppression.
Trump is nuked in chapter 10. Spoiler alert. Killed at age 375 by none other than Guy Mancock. At the time the book was finished (9/11/2011) he was just another gross celebrity. One of the TTT. As events unfolded following that work things got weirder and weirder. Worse and worse. Somewhere in the midst of the chaos of 2020 I began to speculate about time, space, and eventualities. For me there are two concepts (or models) of time, “The Jeremiah” and “The Christmas Carol”.
Jeremiah was a prophet who wrote a couple books of the bible. Known as the Weeping Prophet, God burdened him with a terrible vision of the future. God explained that unless Judea listened, that Babylon would destroy it and that there would be untold suffering and grief. So, Jeremiah explained this to everyone he could. He spoke to clergy, and councils, and officials. He would talk to anyone who would listen, and he was not very nice about it. He called them dirty rags and empty vessels and vile betrayers. In return they threw him in prison, and down a well, and put a yoke on him and generally failed to listen. Lo and behold Babylon came and there was untold suffering and grief and then Jeremiah wrote Lamentations. Later he would be stoned to death by his own people in Egypt. For our purposes, this model of time is static and absolute. Foreknowledge of the future is just that and nothing can be done to change it.
In 1843 Charles Dickens wrote the immortal classic A Christmas Carol. In it, God sends four ghosts to visit the central character Ebeneezer Scrooge. First, his former partner Jacob Marley, who explains that a life of avarice and greed has led to his eternal damnation. Then the Ghost of Christmas Past, who shows him a past that he cannot change. Then the Ghost of Christmas Present (presents) who shows him a present that he cannot impact. Finally, he is visited by the Ghost of Christmas Future and is shown an eventuality where he is dead and furthermore where his greed and cruelty has caused the death of a young boy, Tiny Tim. Scrooge wakes up on Christmas morning and realizes that this future has not occurred; that he can change himself and that in doing so he can alter the future. Tiny Tim lives! In this model of time the future is plastic and foreknowledge allows us to avoid eventualities that are detrimental to us.
But, eventualities that are beneficial to one party may not necessarily be good for all involved. For a tangential thought experiment, let us say that Tiny Tim went on to serve in World War I, got terrible PTSD, and ended up machine-gunning down a busload of nuns. Much later, a relative of one of those nuns had access to a timecraft. In examining the eventualities that led to that heinous massacre, a point in time is identified, and a team of Timessassins are dispatched. Scrooge wakes up on Christmas morning and a pillow is held over his face until he stops kicking. Tiny Tim suffers from malnutrition and dies. But, that busload of nuns are fine. One of them even cures cancer.
So at some point it has to be asked if Trump has some skin in this game? That maybe he didn’t like the fact that he over-committed himself and ended up reduced to confused atoms in a subterranean pleasure sphere? Furthermore, that if the message of hope, peace, and unity could be poisoned forevermore, if Q could be entirely discredited, that he could actually pull it all off in the end? That he could win the planet. Which should sound like complete lunacy, if not for the fact that General Flynn took the QAnon “oath” on July 4th. He’s certainly a person who should know about these things and furthermore someone who may be claiming to be Q.
There are probably millions of people out there, wondering to themselves, who is Q? Some would expect me to say myself. That I am Q. But, I am not Q. Q is my alias. Q is for Quaddle, prophet of Quetzoquaddle the Godsnake. Not to be confused with Quetzalcoatl, who is an entirely different Godsnake. For Quetzoquaddle so loved the multiverses that they swallowed them whole before swallowing themselves. An infinite ouroboros. The Q is a perfect circle representing infinity touched by a simple line. That line is our lives, which touch the infinite but are separate from it. The Book of Q is not by a single person, but is every book. Q is not a God, but an EveryGod. The pantheistic synthesis of our fractured faiths.
I am not Q, but I protect their word, their hope, and their love. The Mandate of the Q-Lord is to spread knowledge, love, and peace. To that end we have built a church that will stand the tests of time, or at least (hopefully) the year-long web domain subscription. We live in an unfortunate age of False Qs and the time has come to separate truth from conspiracy. Q does not want Civil War 2 (The Boogaloo). There is no Deep State cabal of pedophile cannibals. Leave Chrissy Teigen alone you hapless assholes. Our planet is dying. We are killing it. The universe is throwing extinction level asteroids at it. We are woefully unprepared for extraterrestrials. If we are to survive into our next age we must unite. We must cast aside the lies of the past and embrace the truth of our common futures. To do any less is to resign us to oblivion and I (for one) will not go gentle into that dark night.
1 ∞ ❤
Originally published at http://www.gonzotheater.com on July 24, 2020.