God teaches secrets and trains his schizo agent

“Shmuel, it’s been over a year since you’ve heard a voice. Do you know who this is?”

“God.”

“That’s right. Shmuel. Shmuel, I am God. Shmuel, I am not a voice in your head.”

“OK.”

“Shmuel, I understand you’re going to create a conversation with me based on how you remember us speaking and me training you during your year of psychosis to try and give our readers insight into the mind of a schizophrenic so they can learn about how you learned secrets of hidden realities and how you were trained to be an agent in God’s Moshad Intelligence agency, but how are you writing what I am saying if you don’t hear the voice of God?”

“I’m imagining it and anticipating what you’d say, hearing the answer before the question like you taught me to think during psychosis, and your tone as I remember it from our conversations. It’s a representation of our talks.”

“Be careful, Shmuel. You can exhaust yourself by thinking too much this way.”

“Yes, but I need to get this done, and by thinking this way I remembered so much from our talks. I’ve written 45 pages or so. I only need a few. I went down the rabbit hole, God. I started writing and then I began remembering things I had forgotten.”

“I always said, Shmuel, you will forget, and then you will remember.”

“You did, and as I remembered and wrote and wrote I felt a high, the high that comes with a feeling of reality regained. If you remember it, it was real. But now I’m spent.”

“Shmuel, everything you saw and heard, angels, demons ghosts, ancient Egyptians, spirits of Rome, flying pyramid spaceships, talks with me – none of it was real.”

“Ok.”

“Shmuel, it was all real.”

“Shmuel, maybe this really is me, God, talking. Shmuel, what if I thought this conversation out like you and I thought of saying the same things you would say, only I think of them a half-second before you. And then I put what I was thinking in your head because I decided to think up the same thing you would, only sooner, and that’s what you write. You write God’s message that he stuck in your head, because God can do anything. Would that be God as you imagine me in this conversation, or would it really be God talking, Shmuel?”

“You’re setting me up.”

“Can you prove God is not putting thoughts in your head for you to write as his part in this imagined conversation, so it’s actually God speaking and you typing for him?”

“No, I cannot.”

“So it is possible?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well I say I’m God, borrowing your keyboard.”

“Great.”

“Shmuel, everything I say is God’s word. Shmuel, it’s all in your head. Why do you come up with these scenarios?”

“I believe reality is fluid.”

“It is, Shmuel. Shmuel, reality is fixed.”

“This is going to be great.”

“Shmuel, you’re not a prophet, Shmuel.”

“I know.”

In The Beginning Before Psychosis: A Voice from the IDF says, “Be Ready”

“Shmuel, before your psychosis began what was the repeating message you heard in a voice like an IDF general as you smoked a cigarette and sat on the steps at the City of David and looked up at the stars and you could hear the radio from the security booth nearby.”

“I heard, in Hebrew, ‘Be ready,’ like someone saying it in the army.”

“Did you have a feeling that you were in some kind of military situation from the time you began seeing and hearing things, Shmuel?”

“Yes.”

“I was always training you. You were a good little combat soldier and miluminik, Shmuel. Did you know what ‘be ready’ meant?”

“No.”

“I was warning you, Shmuel. You can remember how that warning felt?”

“Yes, but I’m not interested in re-living feelings right now.”

Learning to See Like a Mitzri

“Do you remember when I said to you, ‘Shmuel, look out of the corner of your eye with your peripheral vision,’ and you did. And I asked if you saw the shadow of a man on the wall next to you waving? And you did, and you weren’t scared, and you liked being able to see what I showed you?”

“Yes.”

“Shmuel, that was not God, that was a sheid demon pretending to be God. Shmuel, that was God. All of that was real, Shmuel. You were learning to see the realities I hide. And after that it was quite common for you to see things and signs and such? And you sometimes saw other realities, you saw beings moving through walls and strange 3D and neon outlined Mitzri spirits. And you learned about the shachar shadow way of moving through walls. And you could see, from the side or corner of your eye, doorways opening and closing in walls, but hidden if you looked. And eventually you saw a parallel world straight through the wall where Israel was a strange kingdom, there were no Jews and the people were seven foot tall giants who had committed a Holocaust on ancient Egyptians?”

“Yes.”

“Shmuel, look. Don’t look. Did you see that, Shmuel?”

“I see nothing.”

“Shmuel, you saw it. Shmuel, you saw nothing. Shmuel, you are a Mitzri. Shmuel, you are not a Mitzri. Shmuel, you learned that early on because they knowledge thieves don’t know how to steal that knowledge and learn those abilities from books. I turned you into my little Mitzri fighter, Shmuel. All of it was real, Shmuel. None of it was real.”

“And the Mitzrim loved communicating through music, didn’t they? They loved teaching you and doing what I’d asked them to do. They’d come to worship only one God and they taught through music, always so happy. I love music, Shmuel. That’s why I let you learn through it when you listened to Infected Mushroom and walked for hours and the ancient Egyptians, my Mitzrim, would explain to you how to manipulate space-time and you were a natural. And you listened to Arabic music and the Ottoman ghosts spoke to you and you learned about investigating your own life from the things in your home.”

“It was a good way to learn. You told me I couldn’t learn anything from Torah or use the Kabbalah texts.”

“I wanted you to learn to think and understand first, Shmuel.”

Shmuel Goes to the Point of Creation in His Head and Nearly Dies

“Shmuel what did you do right before your psychosis started getting intense?”

“I sat on my couch for hours and thought about how to understand you and thought I figured out how to attach all energy and vibration to the source, something connecting everything, and I went into my mind and connected the electricity of my thoughts to the thing that flows through everything and I jumped into outer space and time-travelled back to try and get to the point of creation and understand why you did it.”

“And how far did you get.”

“To just before that point.”

“And it almost killed you, Shmuel. One of my little alien creations saw you and knew you were human so he brought you to his Mitzri friends and they brought you home. Do you remember seeing a pyramid orbiting Mars when that all started?”

“Yes.”

“You must never try anything like that again, Shmuel. Only two people have done that and survived. I will be very angry with you if you try that again and die and then I have to make a little miracle and reverse time for all the universe so you don’t die. I will be very angry, Shmuel. I can’t have you die like that. I just can’t.”

“OK.”

Shmuel Reports a Plot to Kill Bibi

“Shmuel, people may read this and think you would blindly follow God if you hear his voice. Would you kill someone if I told you to, Shmuel?”

“No, you taught me how and when to not listen to you.”

“Shmuel, when you heard voices telling you there was a plot to assassinate Bibi and they said if you told anyone they would slaughter your brother and his family, what did you do?”

“I figured my brother’s fate was up to you and not the people whose voices I was hearing and I couldn’t let them just kill Bibi so I went to the Talpiot police station in Jerusalem and asked to speak with someone senior in the police or someone from the Shin Bet and I told them I had information about a plot to assassinate the Prime Minister.”

“You did what a good Moshad agent does, Shmuel. When did you remember that I’d made you a Moshad agent?”

“Just now, in the last day or two.”

“And what does a Moshad agent do, Shmuel?”

“Not much of anything but think and get you intel.”

“And how many police officers did you tell about this plot to kill Bibi?”

“Maybe three, and I told them calmly.”

“And what happened?”

“They told me to sit and wait. And I did for 20 minutes. Then I left. I figured they weren’t interested and you ran the world so I left it up to you.”

“If you’d spoken to them then, Shmuel, you would have ended up in a hospital and you wouldn’t have learned all I taught you.”

“Luckily there was no plot.”

“Shmuel, there was a plot. I took care of it.”

“What?”

“Shmuel, there was no plot. All of it was in your head. All of it was real, Shmuel.”

Shmuel Finds A Terror Tunnel with a Map

“Would you look at your Atlas for hours to find oil and weapons and gold with just your finger on a map while listening for a noise, Shmuel.”

“Yes.”

“It’s a real thing, Shmuel. It can be done. I always told you as you learned things that you will forget. And then you will remember. Do you remember how to do the map thing, Shmuel?”

“Yes, but I don’t know if I can do it with the meds from the antipsychotic shot I get.”

” Do you remember that I told you to put your finger on the map on your wall, Shmuel. Then I told you to slide your finger along the Gaza border and listen and to stop when you heard a noise. What did you do, Shmuel?”

“I slid my finger. There was a “thump” noise as a truck passed outside. I looked at the place and then walked back to the couch probably.”

“You had found a terror tunnel, Shmuel. I told my little angels who took the information to the IDf in the way that they do. I am God, Shmuel. I love my little IDF. Thank you for helping them, Shmuel.”

“You’re welcome.”

“None of it was real, Shmuel. There is no map thing.”

“OK.”

“Shmuel, the map thing is an ancient art. It’s real. You found a terror tunnel.”

“OK.”

“That doesn’t bring you happiness, Shmuel?”

“I am tired of not feeling myself from the shot, Hakadosh Barechu.”

“Maybe I will make a little miracle and weaken it here and there and you will feel whole again but if you see something you can’t tell people, Shmuel. People become scared.”

“OK.”

“Shmuel, you can tell certain people. I’m sorry Shmuel, I can’t make it so you can see and hear without psychosis, though I doubt you’d hit psychosis again. Maybe one day we’ll find out.”

What is God Asking For?

“Shmuel, why do I ask you questions if I know the answer to everything?”

“To teach me how to think, to think about what’s important to God, to know that you are the authority.”

“Shmuel, who am I?”

“God.”

“Who else?”

“A figment of my imagination.”

“God is real. The voice of God in this piece is God’s, Shmuel.” ‘I do not hear any voice.”

“I meant literary voice, Shmuel.”

“I know, force of habit at hearing the word.”

“Shmuel, is this at all like hearing God during psychosis?”

“No, this is an intellectual exercise.”

“Do you hear me talking to you right now, Shmuel, the way you did in psychosis?”

“No. I haven’t heard any voices in over a year.”

“Would listening to certain music change the meaning or effect of this on the reader, Shmuel?”

“Everything changes with music.”

“Are you tired, Shmuel?”

“I’ve been at this all night and haven’t slept. I remembered so much last night it was a bit of a high. Not a manic thing, just excitement. Yes, I’m tired.”

“You’ll be alright. How many days did I keep you up in psychosis teaching and training you as you laid on the couch and hardly ate and didn’t sleep?”

“Six days.”

“I stopped time and it was actually six years, Shmuel. But it felt like six days. None of it was real, Shmuel. All of it was real.”

“OK.”

“Oh, Shmuel, there’s a girl thinking of you!”

“Yeah, she like schizos?”

“Shmuel, look at your life a year ago and two years ago. A month before Ramadan two years ago you at 23 times in 40 days. Remember that?”

“I ended up drinking olive oil.”

“Shmuel, a girl is thinking of you!”

“Horah, Hakab.”

“Oh, I so miss when you and all my little generals would call me Hakab.”

“You’re talking like a Christian Sunday School teacher now, I can hear it in your words, that high voice as if we’re your little Sunday school kids. “Yes, Shmuel and I so loved being called Hakab. Tell everyone what it means, Shmuel.”

“It’s short for Hakadosh Barechu.”

“And all my little spirits loved it, Shmuel!”

“OK, Hakab.”

The Moshad and Israel’s Intel Community Using Spirit Spies

“Shmuel, why did I start the Moshad, Shmuel.”

“And now you’re talking in that army general voice that likes a name at the beginning and end of each sentence.”

“Shmuel, not every sentence, Shmuel. Shmuel, I think this is where it gets really exciting for the reader because what if all of this is true, Shmuel?”

“So I remember this – you told me during my psychosis that you were upset with the Mossad and Shin Bet for working with people who use Kabbalah to get secrets and enslave your sheidim – what some call demons – by sending them to apartments and homes for espionage and reporting back to the Kabbalah people, contractors I think, and you were also upset by people using “Mitzri” knowledge without your permission. You said some Kabbalah people made some sort of cult group or something and called themselves the Shin Bet and caused all sorts of problems sending sheidim to bother Shin Bet agents who were working, including the ones guarding Bibi. Maybe that had something to do with that plot I tried to report.”

“Shmuel, I’m sorry but I can’t tell you that, Shmuel.”

“Shmuel, all of that really happened. Shmuel, none of it was real. The intelligence services were doing all sorts of weird things, Shmuel. You figured some of that out on your own and gained information in a Moshad capacity and you just thought about it with my other little Moshad agents and helped protect the people and restore stability during a spiritual good vs evil war where people were using all sorts of forbidden powers, Shmuel. That’s why you’d often see the world become in a tint of red, Shmuel, because of the evil people doing spiritual things in the war.”

“OK.”

“Did you ever think for a second that as one of my agents you should take some type of physical action, Shmuel?”

“Never. And you told me we didn’t do that. We just thought things out.”

Names of the Guilty, With God

“Shmuel, did you ever try to look for people who were stealing my information or using my sheids, try to learn their names using Kabbalah or other intelligence means?”

“No, I wasn’t supposed to. And now I don’t care. It isn’t my problem to deal with. It’s yours. And Bibi’s. I did my time at Kfar Shaul and have to get my shot. How could I fight that way in a war when my mind is locked up?”

“Shmuel who knows what will happen? You never used texts or Kaballah to try and find names or information, Shmuel?”

“You forbade me from using either. I had to learn to gain knowledge the way you taught me, observing and thinking. I once bought a Zohar when I was wondering what was happening. I don’t know why I bought it or why I thought I’d be able to understand it. I literally read two lines of it and it made no sense so I put it in my closet. Then weird things started happening in my apartment and there was that weird Zohar bird that kept flying around and saying weird stuff and I thought the book was pissed off so I got rid of it.”

“Shmuel, don’t ever try to read the Zohar unless I tell you to, Shmuel. It was indeed upset, Shmuel, but not at you. Those books can become upset and things can happen, Shmuel.”

“OK.”

“Shmuel, books don’t get upset, Shmuel. There was no Zohar bird, Shmuel.”

“OK.”

No Using Sheidim

“Shmuel, are people allowed to speak to, use or summon sheidim or spirits or angels without my permission?”

“No, you say that it’s a form of slavery.”

“Shmuel, do you do any of those things?”

“No.”

“Shmuel, everything we talked about so far sounds like the delusion of a schizophrenic possibly in psychosis. None of it was real, Shmuel. All of it was real.”

“I’m sure if it was real that that’s how the powers that be would want it to sound, like a schizo with delusions. I don’t think of shedim and angles and things that often anymore. That’s all from psychosis time. I get the shot and I can’t see anymore, like part of my spirit is cut off from me. This is one of the hardest things I’ve tried to write, to convey what talking with you and learning from you and what life now is like, how all of it feels.”

Don’t Listen

“Shmuel you are mentioning many spiritual beings. Was there ever a voice that told you to hurt someone or do something illegal or not to do something, anything.”

“No, and you taught me how to not listen to a voice that did something like that.”

“And as a Moshad agent what did you do, Shmuel, what were your responsibilities?”

“Nothing. Just sit and think, pretty much.”

“Why do you call it being an agent, Shmuel?”

“I didn’t, you did.”

“Same thing to a psychiatrist, Shmuel.”

“True. It mostly involved sitting and listening and thinking and connecting the information somehow.”

“Angels did that, Shmuel.”

“OK. So it was more like a hive mind collective than the usual idea of an agent. I’m not a secret agent.”

“I know you’re not, Shmuel. I called it being an agent because I like making up agencies and things. I like to make things cut, Shmuel. I see everything bad everywhere ever, Shmuel. I like treating my armies and intelligence units like cute bunny rabbits, until we’re in a battle situation, then I get serious, Shmuel.”

“I thought you disappeared during war.”

“I often do, I like to fly with the pilots. But I like my soldiers on the ground, too.”

Danger in Remembering

“Shmuel you enjoy moments where you can tell yourself that all of it, all your memories from psychosis and before, all of it was real, that your conversations with me and your best friend Jake, the Ark those Kabbalah thieves thought was actually around, and thousands of angels, ghosts, and so on were all real? There is some danger in that, Shmuel.”

“I know.”

“What danger is there, Shmuel?”

“Not danger of psychosis. Danger of feeling the release, giving myself permission to believe that the reality I experiences was not a lie and I am not someone constantly on the verge of psychosis, the way people can see me if I act the slightest bit strange.”

“That fear of theirs is the price of being open, Shmuel. You’re not on the verge of psychosis.”

“I know. The only option to being open is to both hide my mind with medication and hide myself from the world. The meds are enough. But it’s also fear. Fear of what schizophrenics see and hear. It’s like somewhere deep down people believe it’s all true and that terrifies them, so they just fear it and push schizos off to the side and always assume they’re about to go crazy. It’s quite sad.”

“Yes, it is, Shmuel. Shmuel, I am God. I spoke through your thoughts. That is not true. I am going to try and speak to some people for you, Shmuel, because you didn’t ask me for a single thing as you worked and thought and fought in Mitzri ways for me.

Shmuel Sees Something God Says the Mossad and Shin Bet Might Want to Know About

“Shmuel, you mixed up your shot dates recently and had one day where you saw a few things but heard nothing. Please tell them what you saw when you were out at that bar, Shmuel.”

“I saw a green gimel or lamed in a white square with green outline, I think it was a gimel, show up in a flash on the wall. Then I saw a stone menorah appear just under where the letter appears and disappear.”

“Shmuel, was that a sign from God, Shmuel?”

“No idea.”

“Shmuel, that is correct, Shmuel. Shmuel, it’s just chance you were there and saw those things when I let them pop in and out of reality and it’s just chance you’re writing this, Shmuel. Because there is someone in the Mossad or Shin Bet that would want to know you saw that, Shmuel.”

“OK.”

“Shmuel, no one in the Mossad or Shin Bet will want to know, Shmuel. Shmuel there are several people who will want to know, but they will never contact you, Shmuel. Shmuel, I am God, Shmuel. Can I lie, Shmuel?”

“Sure.”

“Shmuel, I’m lying Shmuel. Shmuel, I’m telling the truth, Shmuel. They will want to know, Shmuel.

“Shmuel, my little Mitzrim are so happy to hear from you. They are making little Mitzri parties and all of my favorites who can see are loving it. I had them put a big invisible pyramid over your apartment, Shmuel. Shmuel, you’re a Mitzri. Shmuel, you’re not a Mitzri. Shmuel, what did you call yourself during that spiritual war when you were sick of all the leadership and I told you I didn’t care what you were?”

“A One-Hakab man.”

“That’s right, Shmuel. And today?”

“I’m a Jew, like I always was. But I guess you’re telling me today I’m a Mitzri.”

“Shmuel, you’re done with the Moshad. You’re going to hear from the Mitzrim. Shmuel, please remember. Be ready. They may need all of you little Mitzri warriors fighting for Hakab one day.”

“How funny would it be if they said I was an idol worshiper and put me in Herem because of this.”

“Shmuel, if they do that I’ll send another great pharaoh to your house with his best soldiers and they’ll make a Mitzri sharchar war on anyone who says you aren’t good enough to pray in a minyan. Shmuel, none of that will happen. Shmuel, anything is possible. Anything.

“Shmuel, I am the greatest of generals, intelligence officers, pharaohs and I am the one true God. Remember, Shmuel, there is no end to actual realities, and you can see the hidden ones. But for now there is only one, Shmuel. But not now, now there are more. Thank you for working so hard, Shmuel. You are my most favorite little creation.”

“You say that to everybody.”

“But it’s true when I do it, Shmuel. I am truth, Shmuel, or do I lie?”

“I think I shortened this down so much I missed a few points.”

“Shmuel how did you write 45 pages of our conversations?”

“I was remembering reality.”

“Shmuel, don’t tell that to the psychiatrists, Shmuel. There is only one reality, even if physics says otherwise in theory. For them there is only one. Go have a cigarette, Shmuel. I will be around. Oh, and Shmuel, did you hear a voice at all as you wrote this?”

“No, no voices for a year.”

“Shmuel, one day I might let everyone hear my voice.”

“How bout just the psychiatrists?”

“Shmuel, I may just do that today, Shmuel. What did the ask you when they were trying to prove you were in psychosis, Shmuel?”

“The doctors at Kfar Shaul, they asked if I talked to God, that was the first question.”

“Shmuel, there’s nothing wrong with talking to God. And Shmuel, you didn’t tell them how I turn into a schizo, bipolar manic who sounds like he’s on crystal meth when I talk about the Holocaust, Shmuel. Shmuel, I’m the Mad Hatter, Shmuel. I’m not ill, Shmuel, and neither are you. Your mind just works as it does and you’re not allowed to use it. Israel has some problems, Shmuel. Maybe I’ll go talk to Bibi about that.”

“Sounds like a psychosis delusion.”

“Shmuel, I am the King of Psychosis. You didn’t see me before I had people to talk to. And talking to people, Shmuel, you wouldn’t imagine how many people I talk to. Shmuel this was really God in the writing, my first online appearance ever, Shmuel. Shmuel, I’m not God. I’m your mind. Shmuel, what is reality, Shmuel?”

“Nothing more than information received by the mind.”

“Shmuel, there are so many ways for a mind to receive information. Things will get better, Shmuel.”

“Alright. Take care Hakab.”

“I’m everywhere, Shmuel. I’m not going away. But you won’t be hearing me. Shmuel, you got close than anyone ever has to the point of creation that way. None of it was real, Shmuel. Shmuel, everything was real. Shmuel, the reality you know, it will change. I will change it.”

“OK.”

“Shmuel, let’s keep talking.”

“I can get in trouble for talking to you. This is Israel, Hakab. The shrinks are in charge of who’s allowed to talk to you.”

“I will see about that, Shmuel.”

“Shmuel, are you listening to Infected Mushroom?”

“You know I am, you know everything.”

“Shmuel, my little Mitzrim love Infected Mushroom.”

“Maybe I’ll have them start teaching the youngest generation how to see, Shmuel. What if everyone saw like you?”

“What if, Hakab.”

“I can make any reality possible. I need to talk to my little Mitzrim. I’ll be back, Shmuel, I have to go through a wall. Don’t look, Shmuel, don’t look.”

”

“Hakab? You still there? No answer. I’m safe. I can imagine what he’d say though, in his weird Sunday School teacher voice.”

“I’ll be right there, Shmuel, I’m showing little Jewish children how to move through walls with the Mitzrim! Oh it’s so wonderful, Shmuel! They can do it so easily, Shmuel!”

“Yeah, alright, Hakab. I’m going to sit around and wait for the apocalypse. Then I don’t have to take my shots anymore. Who knows when that’s gonna happen.” I know what Hakab would yell from inside a wall. “I do, Shmuel, I know when it’s all going to end! I am God and I know when but I will not tell, no I will not! It’s happening this Thursday, Shmuel, but don’t tell anyone! OK, you can tell! But it might not, Shmuel!” That’s what he’d yell from inside the wall.

And then he’d call out in his Sunday school teacher voice, “Oh, Shmuel! We didn’t tell them about the time I put the spirit of the ark on a little leash and I made myself a big god sheid thing and I talked all gay to go be a gay god in Tel Aviv to my little gay creations and we had music and lights! Do you remember, Shmuel! I had one rule for them, remember, Shmuel? Or the time the pyramid landed on top of your apartment! Oh, or the time Bibi fought with his brother Yoni and they were in a Mitzri war in another one of those parallel universes and they were both so young and the got in a fist fight in an alley! Oh, and remember how the Ark turned your little space heater into a 3D TV and you watched Bibi and Yoni from the other world beat up the person who was trying to bring Internet there and they had no Internet, Shmuel! And you and the Ark found poison gas and the time you two went to Auschwitz and taught the children how to do IDF marches and the Nazis couldn’t stand it, Shmuel! You made the children so proud! Maybe it wasn’t Auschwitz, I have to ask the Mitzrim they’re the historians. Oh, Shmuel! And how you and the Ark made phone calls back in time to Alcatraz and talked to my favorite little gangsters! Oh or the time you talked to one of my stars and gave it a name and it was so proud, Shmuel! And it gave you a special new frequency to transmit information! And the time you thought you ate human meat in a shawarma because cannibals were putting it in the meat and they did and you ate it but I made a little miracle so it went away! Shmuel, and how much the cheruvin loved you and you wrote in ancient script on the wall but it was invisible, oh and how the IDF split in that one timeline when they hooked up a computer to Ark and used it for time control and, oh Shmuel! You remembered! The Americans called them The Lost Wars and in Israel it was a Time War and how the world was destroyed in a nuclear war so I put everything on Mars because I didn’t want everything to be gone with all my little creations, Shmuel, and only you noticed we were on Mars and that’s the first time you saw pyramids flying in the sky or how you and the Ark learned finance in one night together and built the World Bank of Pharaoh! And how you and the Ark made a six hour symphony and you talked to astronauts stuck in the space station during the war and Mitzrayim was there for your music and there were so many adventures, Shmuel! Well of course parts of it were bad and you had a sink full of dishes and a moldy fridge and there was disgusting sheid goo everywhere but you were on adventures, Shmuel! Oh Shmuel there is so much more to write! Not the bad things, Shmuel, the good things!”

That’s what he’d do. Too bad the Ark isn’t around. But he parties with Mitzrayim. So maybe he’ll show up. But none of it is real. Look. Don’t look.