I've become personally friendly with some of them. It's interesting because in some ways I need someone just to keep a gentle eye on me. That was the role my father played. And I've become just slightly groundless since then. (Which is why I am secretly fond of my secret friends. Shh. Don't tell anyone. It'll blow my cover as an incorrigible malcontent.)
There is one gentleman I work for in particular. I am his caretaker. And he is my caretaker. He'll advance me a small sum on my earnings if I need to pay a bill I may have improvidently failed to plan for.
I do not enjoy financial riches for a reason: I operate at odds with the system. Once you have publicly proclaimed yourself to be hostile to the dirty aims of the system, you will have a very difficult time prospering materially. This material world is ruled by those who worship mammon, the currency of Satan himself --if we choose to use terms applicable to that Christian paradigm. It's why I can't get my ticket receipts. The system has means of punishing troublemakers. But I don't care, as I do not worship mammon. Causing so much trouble with so few resources is its own reward.
I am of little means not because I am stupid or because I am incompetent. I am of little means for completely different reasons, having everything to do with the path I have chosen in this world, though it is hard to communicate this to those wealthy people I work for. They think I'm just some loser.
I see things coming down the economic pike and I caution people to move their wealth out of the dollar. They never believe me. What, after all, would a person with no money know about money?
Very soon, the United States dollar will have no value as a result of the loss of its reserve currency status. In short, when your nation produces nothing that other nations might want to buy in exchange for accepting your currency for their exports, your currency has value only if your military can force other nations to use it to purchase a common commodity --in this case, oil. That is what a petrodollar is.
Inflation has been your chief export since World War Two, and that is what has accounted for your high standard of living. But your military no longer possesses the ability to force other nations to price their oil in dollars, thus imputing to your currency a value it would otherwise not have.
China and Japan have inked an agreement to trade with each other, employing no dollars in the process.
Iran and India have inked an agreement to trade oil for gold, employing no dollars in the process.
And Saudi Arabia is gearing up to sell its oil with nary a dollar required in the exchange.
This means that since your nation's currency will soon be party to few financial exchanges around the world, no one will have a use for it. And since your nation produces nothing but woe, no one will accept your currency for their products.
This will cause the value of your currency to decline to zero.
In short, if you are unwise enough to keep your holdings in dollar-denominated instruments, your wealth will evaporate.
Listen to Lindsey Williams --whose word I have come to trust-- as he speaks on this matter.
If you are in my audience and if you are smart, you should sidle away from that worthless nothing called the United States dollar.
I am Christopher King. I am America's Senior Comedian and One-Man Weapons System for Truth.
My Video Intro
What follow are to be considered transcriptions of spoken word pieces that I would have delivered in a physical theater. You will also find video and audio pieces here.
This show has been roughed out years in advance, and material delivered as its time approached. There is an arc to this show. For that reason, posts --that is, pieces-- should be read in order, from older to newer. So if you've been absent for a bit, scroll all the way down and read upward.
Please remember that this is not a free show. This is the professional undertaking of a professional comedian who bet the farm on making this a going concern. Just because it is possible to steal my property does not mean that you may. If you go to the farmer's market and the man is away from his table, you are nonetheless obligated to put your money into the shoebox labeled "Put money here." My personal friends are exempted from buying their tickets, as well as those who may not be able to afford to buy a ticket. Everyone else is morally and legally obligated to buy a ticket if they partake of even, say, a dozen pieces of mine per year. Duck outside my theater for a cigarette as often as you like, but you didn't get in here in the first place without buying your ticket at the box office. The cost is $100 per person, per year. There is no law enforcement discount. There is no news media discount. No one gets a discount, unless you honestly don't have the money. (And to my law enforcement patrons: Even in Lenny Bruce's day, cops had to buy their tickets before they could get into his theater to jot their notes. Jot away, but if you are not here to arrest me or to shut the place down, then you are here covertly. If that is the case, then you are passing as ordinary patrons. If that is the case --and it is-- then you buy your tickets just like regular customers.)
Thank you for coming.
--Chris
Bitcoin Address: 1KtMQ32BoHqBAx4GFjLR1gLrBBp1BSnQs6
Or mail $100 to Chris King, Grafton, Vermont 05146
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This is the product safety sticker that accompanies all my speech:
There was a Pratt and Whitney JT9D 7-series compressor recovered from Murray Street in New York on 9-11, the precise identification of which is detailed in the Capta Brightstick Document. That incompatible engine hardware precludes Flight 175's presence at the scene of the crime and indicts the jurisdiction known as United States as criminal. If you are a member of a grand jury or jury, or if you are a judge, and if this product safety sticker has been removed from whatever speech of mine may have been presented to you, it is because the prosecutor is pulling a fast one on you and doesn't want you to know that the federal government auto-executed itself in a grand ceremony for all to see. Please have a nice day.
Updated legalese, added 11/1/2012 on the occasion of realizing that every time I go to court, Madame Prosecutor is forever waving around my intellectual property contained herein, content to use my words against me without having the decency to buy her ticket to my show. Well, here's something you can wave around: "I, Christopher King, do hereby plead guilty to whatever it is that Madame Prosecutor may allege. I'm rotten to the core and I secretly make fun of the judge all the time. As a result, I --and here these are my words, the words of the prosecutor and not of Mister King-- I have luscious melon breasts and I think the judge is the worst thing ever to happen to the court. You hear me, judge? That's right. I, Madame Prosecutor, secretly hate you and I think your rulings blow. I would like the record to reflect that Mister King is well hung and I ache for his tender ministrations. I suck, the prosecutor's office sucks, the judge sucks, and Mister King is a national treasure despite his plainly stating that he is guilty of all allegations that may ever be made. He plainly confirms that he is a dangerous terrorist. There. Let the record try to sort out who is who in this statement."
"Ta da! Behold Assclown Jurisdiction United States!"
End of product safety sticker.
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Buy your ticket to my show!
Bitcoin Address: 1KtMQ32BoHqBAx4GFjLR1gLrBBp1BSnQs6
Or mail $100 to Chris King, Grafton, Vermont 05146.
