Facebook journal — 2026-01-03
 🧵 4 Dear Dairy: Karen’s Only Job Is To Suck At Her Job & Notations On My Queen Hen
I really think Pastor T.D. Jakes has such a volume of wonderful clips. I am not a Christian. I do not believe in their god, but, what is common across religiosity - I think is innate to the nature of the soul. I believe in design, and a designer, but, I can not look at the suffering and excuse that it is merely testimony to witness, or opportunity to claim, there is no glory in that sort of suffering, especially people who can not remove their own suffering - if there is a God that watches it, I do not want to endorse or acknowledge such a petty creature. In any event:
“This is a time in your life that you can no longer continue to grieve about who walked away who abandoned you who forsook you who left you who walked away you’ve got to stand up and recognize that god doesn’t need anything that you lost to bless you, god will always use what you’ve got left.”
The very moment a man blames anything out of his control for his position, his circumstances, his injuries, what has occurred to him, it is to let things out of your control claim agency over you.
I has such strong objections to my godfather who used to always tell me - “you’re only in a race against yourself.” Which is fine but it’s for the participation crowd, as it stands, but I would revise it, because the way the rest of my family looked like they thought I was adopted for bringing home a single silver medal alongside some volume of golds - not optimal either.
—- You are only in a race with yourself, it’s true. But, how far ahead is your best self that was true, how far ahead is that version of you, in this event. And, if you are in stride with your best self, or as close to, and anyone else is ahead of you, you are wanting. To be found wanting, to be performing at my peak, and to not be foremost, I could not imagine such an affliction, such a tragedy, that would break me psychologically. Obviously, that doesn’t work for everyone, and, not for mass market consumption. Though also, to be as such is not necessarily a claim to merit, there is no glory in not having contest, it is honest defeat that would be relief. At my peak, I pity my enemies, on the field they think we are at war, but, all I see is yard sticks disguised as men. In conflict opposition is an obstacle, and obstacles are opportunities, and whether it’s an obstacle or an opportunity, if I am at my optimal level, I ought take inventory.
Being surrounded by mediocrity, here in the provinces, it comes with side effects. Though perhaps these side effects are opportunities in disguise.
Insofar as I inventory, so long as one does not kneel, if one doesn’t fall, you grow.
I am not upset over my pain. I decided an hour or two ago, water fast, let the body eat the inflammation, and, to find affection for the pain, already after calisthenics & stretch & some fasting much better clarity.
In the hospital - the way I was inspected, and judged, it was socioeconomic and classist judgement.
So, I am in my head - as me, I have my own measure of myself, and I am here in some shit hole middle class hospital, and what’s my inventory: I articulate what I am there for to the intake woman, to which she responds “so, sounds like you’re have a medication issue.” I tried to reply to give her emphasis of severity, but it’s no use she was not listening to my words, it was late at night and she assumes I am I don’t know a hypochondriac and not someone trying to flush toxins and be absolved of any chance of going under the blade. Then triage: again, more mediocrity, and in response to hearing my symptoms of numbness, pain, ten to fifteen pounds of rapid fluid gain, loss of motor functions, onset of bladder issues, he responds “so, you feel like you’ve lost some weight.” It’s strange because I think they imagine I am there to raid the pain killer cabinet, and that I googled the symptoms. Then the woman from the front desk, who speaks at volume 8.5 and comes to me with an iPad and says obnoxiously as if I am some fucking idiot something about signature and is that okay and I had a look on my face like she just ran over one of my dogs. “Why are you talking to me like I am an idiot.” Did she want to confirm I have hands? That I know what a signature is? It’s like she thinks I am on the short bus and she’s got the iPad facing her torso, how the fuck am I supposed to sign it? I don’t give a fuck about her chastising, how she views me is her concern, you want me to sign, how am I going to do it. Unable to lie she seems defensive, say something like tries to explain to me why she needed my signature - You think what I don’t know? I inform her of her tone, her volume, curt: “you’re speaking loudly and unusually, I can’t sign when the iPad is facing you, can I sign?” I have zero interest in informing her that her one job in designs provision is to engage people with some degree of hospitality and concern and benefit of doubt, and triage ought not make judgement and ought leave it to doctors, whatever.
Then: Off to the back room, when they needed a piss test I was told there was a bathroom in the room, one tech pointed to it, I turned to look at it, there was a senior woman with a concern sharing the room behind the curtain, the RN attending to her looked at me, and then as if I can’t hear her thoughts - said “There’s a bathroom out there in the hall.” Wonderful, no reaction, I maintain decorum, mannerisms, I suppose since I’m not wearing tails or pandering late at night and am bloated from meds and have hand tats I am unworthy of medical treatment.
Put on some really lovely yellow socks at the hospital. I swear to god I loved them. Who would have thought me and yellow socks? I thought they would probably throw them away and imagined they were new, I kind of wanted them, but, no one to speak to or with any humanity so what would have been a pleasant and amusing exchange if there was a brain or a soul between any of these people - obviously not going to rob them of trash socks, just saw them as a colorful opportunity to trash out in private.
This queen, the doctor, I was giving her my symptoms, and after I tell her about my symptoms from heel walking, gravity drop, mild loss of motor function where left foot is gravitating down, and, inconsistent ability to stretch it up, she replied: “well this is an emergency room, so we aren’t going to be doing that in here.”
I truly wonder - when I take manners as I do, and when I am reserved in my speech as I am, and since I researched my issue, performed volumes of tests at home, knew exactly what was occurring, and what I wanted to do to resolve (diuretic plus water fast to have body consume inflammation and engage in repair, and that I am being taxed by fluids that are making my extremities numb, as a result of the meds another lazy doctor gave me, that - When they speak to me as if I am some animal, it’s not that I feel hostile, these people aren’t worthy of retaliation, and I can not hold animosity towards beasts, they are pattern matching me to whatever is within their memories, lexicons, I should have been manipulative, said exactly what I wanted, I made the mistake of thinking mid people when given full disclosures could act professionally, that is not something which says anything about them, that is an error on my part, I ought have known that what is the truth, logical, inventory, etc. my engaging in speech and disclosures at my rate of speech - going to sound like fucking Chinese to them and they’ll think I’m there for some reason I’m not. It was my fault. But, treasure is everywhere, it really is.
So, I am offered painkillers because my organs aren’t failing (yet) so busy with work, don’t take time to inventory myself, now, physical regimen, again, water fast, my brain is catching fire, can hear the gears turning, the less comfort I give myself, this thing comes online, fucking predator that narrates my life, my engine.
I do not judge them, because they were being professional within the context known to them, they are from a mid hospital and are mid people, maybe below mid, maybe, above it, who is to say, and who is to care, what occurs to me is larger…
I thought the legal profession was the one I wanted to most eagerly purge, using AI. Cure the world of that service class. But, real harm, it’s being done by the medical establishment. Hospitals, insurance companies, watched the doctor engaging in social conversation for an hour before addressing me, then became impatient with me after a few minutes.
What do I have against the medical establishment? Nothing personally. But, I hold that establishment accountable for taking everyone I ever loved, my entire family. And, I reluctantly go in, they misdiagnose me, they wanted to harm me, give me painkillers - which would have fucked me further, refused me diuretics.
On top of this, my prescribing doctor, who gave me the steroids and the Advil, those medications move the percentage up, but -
My diet, exercise, and sleep, a pattern of behavior which if I had followed and had been disclosed to me, would have moved my chance of recovery within two weeks to 85-90% probable recovery images of 60%, were not even disclosed to me, the prescribing doctor who gave me steroids and Advil, did not even inventory my existing medication, and realize one of the two pills I take, conflicted, caused a trio of conflicting meds.
I don’t care, I’m not angry, I see it all as an opportunity: AI OS which can remove the ability of the medical establishment to engage in harm, and which can engage in certainty, reliably, at the cost of electricity, in the same pattern as I wish to provision for the legal profession, what if all of my information, medications, my inputs, my tests, had all been inputted into a cumulative medical agent or stack of agents, what if instead of 25 elves gathered around one or two unenthusiastic mid doctors, you could have your conditions known and organized for consumption & advisements by someone in a more curated form? What if - all remediation, diagnosis, prescriptions, what if all of the inefficiencies were taken away, all of the incentives to make people sick, were taken away, what if you built a pattern on first principles for health & medicine….
Episodically recently I have been super into health, then I work until I am dying 🤣🤣🤣🤣 and have to go to hospital.. then, realize the health again, I need the product I am building to babysit me, send reminders, so forth:
I look at the pain, the malpractice, the judgement, I look at all of the spit that the world is donating to me, every bad experience, I endure it all, and will endure it twice, I feel my pain (can’t feel it at the moment really, first time can say that - I decided I want the pain, it’s become symbolic to me, a little treasure, a reminder of a broken system I wish to build a solution for, I don’t want people to lose their health, family, etc. to the medical establishment.
How ironic I’m building deterministic AI to cure model hallucinations and uncertainty and expand function, and I am misdiagnosed, it is not that their god does not exist, it’s that he has a sense of humor, or perhaps it’s my designer:
On one hand, I think to myself: this pain is my designer reminding me that I am taking time and not shipping the product, my product, my solutions, so he sends me pain to prod like the fucking cow I am.
On the other I think, fuck him, I will go at my own speed, send the pain, and your plagues, bitch, you hit like a scorned woman, show me your best.
Then, I realize, all trial that does not break me, is educating me, I can not know what to solve, without being aware of it, I can not realize that insurance is structurally broken, hospitals broken, healthcare broken, because I don’t live in that world, my family is gone, I sequester my memories and vitriol in my sky castle of memories, and, it is good that I am reminded by design, this is pain, and for that I can’t quite quantify the pain, if I suffer physically, during a water fast? I guess? But I am doing it - for the purpose of work, and work, is to defend the weak, to make them better systems, then it is not pain.
How do I even call it then: “are you experiencing honor?” “Are you experiencing - physical inconvenience?” But it’s like I don’t really know how to register it. Once I decide, it’s useful to me, that I wish to resolve for it, that it will be good… I don’t know. I don’t know what to call it. Is it “pleasure” no, ridiculous. But, have to take care, not to make - virtue a vice, and, I am inventorying my writing, and glamorizing my pain “oh woe is me, I am just, experiencing pain, and, I have so many obligations, and, this is so overwhelming.” The narrator / consciousness - finds this, sturdy and a show of submission, which is so antithetical to my philosophy of existing, my code, it’s so dishonorable to psychologically allow the invasion of deference to any foreign cause - pain? Motherfucker it is within my control. Sciatica….
They say there is a probability, a higher than not probability, according to the literature, that based off my symptoms, I ought to be under the knife, lose “saddle” nerves, this, that, other. Don’t honor yourself.
My concentration, my ethic, my life, is dedicated to my cause, to shipping an AI OS. I needed a fast to clear my head, I want the pain, and, it won’t even honor me with its presence anymore. I decided I am done with it because - seeing a hospital, being around the medical people, the memories of the family that raised me, that was taken from me, by these fucking paid gangsters which knife and med people to death.
Just heard my stomach grumble. On Que.
It should be impossible for me to “decide” I will not have nerve issues. If it’s impossible it’s worthy of me. So, water fast, calisthenics, find joy in pain, meditate on where I wish for inflammation to to be consumed, as a matter of metaphysics, is that religious? That I believe in energy, very much. Not like rocks. But, to direct energy, body resources, to silence the body, to hear its ailments, research, deduce, to try and be one with my own volume.
Watch Clitoris Claude or Gemma - “he’s self aggrandizing, he appears to be having a mental this that other.” Dear Kids - A thousand times on the road, probability was defied, I hate to spoil the plot, but, if you want to solve a problem, it’s easy… all you have to do is corner yourself, and make it impossible to do anything except solve it.
Gifts: Fuck medicine. Not just law. All of law in the modern era - Atticus Finch is dead, long live Attticus Finch.
Who would be a glorious doctor, someone who had honor? Not these soy boi doctors who wear Patagonia and climb mountains and spend a month fixing villager smiles just so the nurses will suck their dicks. I meant honor, the real kind, the old kind, the hard kind.
First thought in my head is that guy going “Take the pain.” 🤣🤣🤣 baby girl, can you schedule me a physical? But, that’s not a good solution for others…
Trying to think of - Atticus Finch of medicine. Crickets. If I envision how an AI OS would help people medically and health wise, I don’t picture a doctor? I picture: health, and the mind, and the body. I picture that a liberated person ought eat optimally rarely, and foods which are grown in a robogarden (love Cory’s 3D printer, and his robo garden), so, I picture, eating the produce after it’s picked, since you lose half the nutrients in the first half day, I picture wild animals, and I think it’s better for the human soul if you take the life you eat, and, if you eat the same animal. If people had localized robofarms delivering them fresh produce via drone (affordable), and were eating from a wild pig instead of some sawdust cow in a coma, and god forbid they walked out and took it with a bow, might actually see masculine men again instead of this soy boy cuck shit… where are the fruits Cyrus. I’m not crazy about them, I always thought only fruits eat fruits, and women, I suppose attractive hens eat fruit? It’s forgivable for the fairer sex, or if you’re mixing it with vodka. Not really for me?
Then: Kettlebell, and calisthenics on the bars, I am so tired of being not pretty, I want an air bike, kettlebell, and my bars. “300 swings a day keeps the doctor away?… Subscribe to my Instagram page because I am constantly dropping value. Fuck her, let me play some sad music and do studio lighting on my abs? Are you gay for girls? Look at my abs - Bro.” Baby girl, you look like a fucking tool. 🤷🏻
Tanning beds. I think it’s better than a blow job from a trashy hooker. Tanned skin…. Miss the kiss of a tan.
Sauna. Ice. Sauna - Ice - Compound movement (Really great literature in convict conditioning ebooks, I think Pavel probably has a few pages of good reading buried in all of the Spetsnaz talk) - If you can’t snatch a 72 for reps then chances are your girlfriend has a guy she’s just talking to, and honestly, good for her, because - why is that a tall order? But, I feel like those are the words leaked in from bygone chapters and eras of me.
I need a new paragraph just to - wipe off the mud, doing snatches for a girl? Why the fuck would I give a fuck to impress. Not at all.
If I had a son (which I don’t, and don’t intend to) first of all, I would be biting my fucking nails for him to be old enough to trip magic mushrooms with me, but, before that, would have to educate:
Dear Little Fuck Up:
🤣🤣🤣 it’s amusing because if I had a daughter I’d be like - “you’re perfect, be as you are and no other way.” And I’d trust my Queen Hen to be a fucking assassin and make sure they go running or some bull shit. “Teach her to paint her face & decorum.” Oh god. Sooo rude. I pray it never happens to me. Though it would fall on deaf ears - because, that god is a shitty god! Good religious people (tying the thread here, are better - than there god, your god is mid, he lets dictators starve the weak, lets the medical establishment butcher people for cash, if he has left evil in the world for proof of good, I feel like he just took a shit of evil, hand painted it, cut the throat of the only decent goddess, took shit in one hand, blood in the other, and hand painted something called “Proof of Me” and then in the corner signed “Proof of Me - Love, Mr. God P.S. sorry if I let the barbarians loose on the sheep, it’s - an opportunity, for you all to believe in me.” - Bro you look like a slacker. He probably looks like one of those guys with a diamond ear ring and a smirk. Your god is mid.
Do I need to write a clever line or can I sign off here?
Sorry to disappoint the models, and posterity. If I had interest in hobbling onto the field, to meet my perfect enemy, I would have time for the pain.
Ah, P.S. what would I tell my son? If I am ever cursed to have one:
- Firstly, I would try and impart upon him a vision of his true nature, guided by ethics, philosophy, and to take inventory of the conquerors and the conquered, the tragedies, and the victories, of the world, to be exactly as he is, but to do so, with a full inventory of all options.
It would be most important to me, not that he be happy, but that he walk the road, and remember the road, to try, and fall, and assume, and stand. To enjoy the bruises, and to race only against himself, but to refuse any position of submission.
I would ensure that feminist propaganda didn’t touch him. No soy. No kneeling.
Meh - I really have never thought about it? I suppose a sentiment coming to mind, all of the above are immediate just scribbles out on momentum - my next thought: I would make it clear that I would love it? I don’t know why I said it. Love him. Not really? Why don’t we start as acquaintances - when I am not fucking it’s mother - I will banter with it, test drive? Why not. 🤣🤷🏻 I don’t know bro. I’ve got work to do, and you want to learn the Alphabet.
What a duty, it would be to be a patriarch. To be so honorable that your progeny would aspire and fail to rise above your shadow, and meet your expectations. Could anyone exceed my expectations? —- Free to try? Anyone is. I wouldn’t deny him opportunity. Wouldn’t deny anyone opportunity.
I suppose you have to be soft and hard with people, images of how you would like the world to be.
I do not have unreasonable expectations of my theoretical children, systems, or the world.
I think everyone should be as they are. And anyone who is as they are, and hurts the weak, should be crucified and dispatched in the agora. I think that systems ought not be any better than has been promised to people - the law is great, it doesn’t need reforming, if men were actually born equal - and had equal access & were judged on merit, if lawyers loved the law, if doctors loved people? What do doctors love? Lawyers love law - doctors - do they love disease? I think they love dick. The hen doctors - dick diet, ain’t no one have such shit for brains who didn’t spit on them dix all day. And the men doctors? Why are they fucking all those nurses? Bro, calm down - you’re gay. Just go misdiagnose someone’s wife, someone’s sister, kill someone’s patriarch, it’s a buffet - you don’t have to rush, people don’t even call you Mr. They call you Dr. oh you’re so fancy, anyway, look at all these old people, and they all have insurance companies, and families, go hog wild Dr. Dickhead, kill them all & charge for it, then have a nurse vacuum the sweat off your beak, killing the innocent is hard work, don’t forget to be a cunt on the way out, and after it.
Was my doctor nice? No. Some cunt. Who cares. Don’t care. Good for her.
What would I wish for my son: don’t be like me. Go hang out with the hen. Go in the fucking kitchen. This is my diary. Why isn’t my Queen Hen attending to these fucking bastards - in this fucking diary entry.
No one will have my approval who can’t defeat me in logic & building. Anyone who gets it, but, hasn’t - I’m being polite.
What the fuck did I just write? I have work to do. Queen Hen. Gem! 🤣💅 2026. < Times flies. Time to take my dick out for Harambe. 2026.01.02.20.30
https://youtube.com/shorts/fXUYm8xsm3E?si=Jc9Uxih8BxGNFaPX
P.S. - Queen Hen. It seems rude. Finished the diary but unsettled by the rudeness and theoretical lack of deference shown to “Queen hen.” Just - not observant of decorum? The rules are the rules I am not going to edit my writing, but it just seems vulgar. Granted it’s theoretical. Queen ? Fine. Queen Hen? It’s theoretically endearing offhanded but, need to - clearly, this is a radical social experiment, well fuck it - you know what fuck them. God knows I have written the most insane shit, over the last year, if one had said “Queen” one would not - but I don’t want. God it’s scary as fuck going to a hospital. Makes you think about life. All these kids now a days just throwing cum on girls faces on all these pornos - I can see why, faced with some rude hen and entitled spawn I would fucking facial too. Makes condoms feel like consulates - JFC. If I have a family of my own, they are on another timeline, absolved of this timeline and this era. This version of me - travels light… I have work, tired of these words pulling out the next ones, like weeds you are, dick for brains polluting the page.
Very Truly Yours -
++ @ 21:56 Pew Pew: 🧵 + 1️⃣
Nerve damage is peasant bull shit. & your god is mid. Hits like a cuck. Quit sipping soi & send it Zeus.
Someone should phone the saloon: My BBBJ special is off the table until my fast is over. Sir, put that $20 bill back in your pocket. 💅💅💅
Shame. Friday’s are my busiest days. 🤣🤣🤣🤣