The planet's puppet masters almost surely have a plan.

There's clearly maybe something there beyond the realm of men.

And until we thoroughly tested every last close-chested view,

I find the more we think we know, the less we really do.

Where would we be without THC?

Because we know they're lying to us, just don't know to one degree.

Where would we be with a THC?

The higher side chat show, Greg Carlewood and company.

Well, wouldn't you know it, it's another beautiful day in the neighborhood.

From the Sunshine State, I'm Greg Carlwood. And I don't think anyone incarnated here with the intention to wither away in concrete boxes, giving up eight to ten hours of energy a day doing the grunt work in someone else's

dream just to be given barely enough green paper to cover the cost of simply existing in this

Rockefeller Rothschild debt-based slave system, while dumping any

remaining hours into endlessly doom-scrolling an abyss of blue light and carefully engineered

and addicting digital dopamine hits, but, hey, they say this is progress. And when our inner self

does have the nerve to speak up and let us know how far from our true will we might have drifted,

we have plenty of mind medicine to numb us and stuff that back down until the next big emotionally manipulative

sciat metadrama. We barely live to work rather than work on living. And these are supposed to be the

good times if even half of what they say about the post-World War III centralized digital

surveillance, AI-driven, social-credited,

cricket-powdered life comes true. In fact, every forward-thinking, bright-minded,

cultural commentator is saying the only hope for anyone that's left is to have a practical skill

that people need that the robots and software can't replace. They say you'd have to be a special

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