2025copyshewrought MVE films about everything

2025copyright MVE read between the wax

Often, I have wondered–what was I to you? What am I to you? Why am I to anyone, ever, at all?

Maybe you think I deserve nothing? Or maybe you thought I deserved better? More than you could ever give?

Honestly, a bunch of unanswered questions come to my mind. Yes, just more and more unanswered questions. About basement and rooftop bars.

About who I interacted with and who I rejected. What they saw in me? What they saw of me! Ha!

Oy, forgive me, The Father, for I have sinned. That is a sentence, an American reaction. A destitute delirium of an action. An unflinching retort-ion.

The Father, the one you supposedly report to, where is that dude? “Everywhere and nowhere.” That is the way of The Father, right? Or so many believe. Billions and billions believe. They have faith in something, you, The Father, supposedly.

Where are you? You hear their calls, the children, you created. Help us they plead with you.

Ok, ok. But when does the portal to Hell open up under Europe? And when do all the “purest” fall into said portal? Like when do the red lights turn to green? When do the secrets get seen? When does the word become flesh? When does that visible word become a healer? When does that healer become a savior? When does that savior become THE KING?

Humility. What is that? In a world of ego-maniacal-shameless-bloodthirsty-warlords [yes, one word], where is the peaceful and the humble? I am sick of the like-and-subscribe. The edited. The made-up.

Who has rest? Truly? Who has hope? Madly? Who has faith deeply? What is the answer? Who are YOU?

Save us. Show yourself. Have mercy on those you love. On those you know and answer my questions! Please and thank you.

Also. I am not going to respond. I am mad at you for a number of reasons, and I don’t want to just react, ok? So, have so much patience. Breathe mf’r, just breathe.

Hey, abusers of power–

This is an open letter to you, you know who you are.

You got your shit through our hard earned tax dollars…what do you not understand?

You take from us. You lie, cheat and steal from us. You then tell us to turn a blind eye to your heartlessness.

You don’t understand, public servant.

Becoming affluent off of our suffering, shame on you.

You lose. And that is the true oath of office: You fuck up, you lose.

Sincerely, An American Tax Payer

If I became president, the first thing I would do would make an executive order that changes the amount of caffeine in a can of Diet Coke from 46 milligrams to 48 milligrams.

Yes. That is priority numero uno.

And well, I am sure you could figure out why.

Hahaha!

MVE for president

Viral content. For years, they have been hoping for internet fame. Following data trends in hopes their ideas get picked up. Desperate to be so poplar that millions of people share it, like it, dislike it, comment on it. Like and subscribe.

Advertising dollars are key–for the companies and the public. You can’t be popular unless you have, “influenced,” enough of your followers to buy something. What service, product, void is a person spending their hard earned cash to check off their list.

People bold enough to display their exorbitant amounts of wealth and showing everyone how they see the world living in a tiny home that they had other people build. No grid. No containment. So elite. Like travelers haven’t been living that way since forever…

There is exceptional apathy in this existence. The only goal is self-serving. Influencers are as self-serving as corporations; in essence they are corporations unto themselves.  Remember this, they will all soon start to self-destruct.

T-minus 10, 9, 8…

It is a place, well, two places, really.

One is a private park in New York. The other is 40 acres. One is home, the other home, at least it was. Until it was taken over by blind ignorance.

Ketamine, cocaine, Swarovski, pizza, ice cream, dancing, sex. That was my “Spring Break place.” He was my replacement family and I liked it a lot.

He worked for a corporate bank, liked his ego stroked, I let him believe what he wanted. I appreciate his insight to the world he lived in, cold. Harsh. The top and the bottom of the money hellhole. I went with him to his office, it was very sexy in the heart of NYC. The heart of the snake pit.

The summer place had become only a childhood memory. Taken over by unasked questions and unanswered glares. It became a sword in the side of land and a joke of superimposed separation of sexism and sanity. A horsetranqulized induced subsanction of subhumanity with limited compassion or reason.

A well-deserved burning of a familial association. Goodbye, snakes.

Hello, Hornets. Buzz buzz.

It is a game we play. To test ourselves. To test G-d.

Are there limits on earth? Have we reached ours?

Is there responsibility? Who has it?

Is there accountability? Who needs it?

Do we have to do something?

Can we do nothing at all?

Good deed? Bad deed? Have you done it too? What happened to you?

Just simple questions…right?

Well then, let’s Play, sir. Game on, sir.

It isn’t like that, not yet. It will be soon, like that, here. The blinders are on now. Turning a blind eye to it all is a growing problem. Soon, a mass-hysteria. Like the Earth has cancer and it needs radiation treatment. Or R.I.P

Those who opted to retire. To take severance. Those who chose to fight until the messiah shows his face or until suicide or death by firing squad. Only the money trails know why it is worth it anymore, truly, and those are stained blood red. The interconnected world wide spider’s web of an economic mess we have gotten ourselves into has turned everyone into a, “Daddywarbucks” searching globally for their little orphan Annie to cut off aid to.

Meanwhile, “all eligible men” will be drafted or jailed. That is what they want, a war for their glory, truly for the glory of the ultimate earthly king of the mountain. 8 billion people as instant servants and unfathomable wealth.

Thank G-d we planned accordingly.

You want us to believe we have no value.

You will attempt to steal from us. Use A.I. to fill in the blanks, make us “better.”

Truthfully, you bore us with your intentional digital theft.

Would you like to go ahead and blow up your sex doll and fuck it instead?

Thanks, cuties.

Enslavers work and invest in A.I. An industry that makes as many, if not more, mistakes than human error. It is racist and elitist because it was created by racist elites to serve their twisted desires and their white messiah complexi of being healers.

So, yay! Yet another tired industry with ideological viewpoints based in historic ignorance.

Manifest your cesspool of a destiny, A.I. sluts. The Earth doesn’t need YOU to survive. But you definitely NEED IT. So take your plastic garbage and inhale the fumes when they burn to the ground.

Cheers!