CHAT 2023
” …I’ve given all I can, but we’re still on the payroll… “
…
..
.
The GM Supercharged LT1 V8 powerplant engine rumbles and grumbles as his mansion gates open before him.
A private security guard waves him in.
Joe Rogan grips the wheel of his 1970 Chevelle SS, feeling that familiar connection to something solid in a world that seemed to change by the day.
So much nostalgia as he gasses the pedal.
He was thinking of keeping it.
Welding a trailer hitch to the back so that he can pull one of those personal containers he tried out from the Bander app.
They’ve gone there 3 times now and were thinking of committing more long term.
As part of a wave of pioneers of sorts.
He’s been doing a lot of that recently. Looking around.
Identifying things he absolutely needed, and didn’t.
A picture of his family is all he sees at the front and center.
And his Benelli M4 shotgun, to most readily protect them.
Joe reflects, his family seems a lot more engaged and happy in these new environments.
So much easier to find genuine people that just want to hang out and intermingle in shared interest groups.
A sweet-fishy-tomatoey smell rides with him in the interior, as he pulls into his luxury garage space and kills the motor.
He would donate his car collection to a museum for sure. Or maybe… gift them to the right people? Who would be worthy?
On the passenger seat, buckled in, sits a stack of 5 pizzas.
He acknowledges this is a huge privilege as he brings them inside, the boxes pleasantly warm against his forearms.
Rationalizing the mechanics behind this system he’s always been a cog of.
A world full of strangers made the boxes, the ingredients, the pizza, the location, the multi directional shipping, structure, vehicles, all of that to just come together and…
Mathematically, it doesn’t even make sense that he can afford this doing what he does, and impossible for him to say thanks to them.
Inflation has also kept going. Even as millionaires, there’s still risk.
It’s clear that the future of FIAT economics isn’t exactly stable.
Bitcoin as virtual money, same concept, just another religion.
He clicks the car alarm.
He doesn’t need to do it. He just likes the sound it gives behind him as he’s walking away.
Gives him a sense of… ….closure.
He keeps pondering as he makes his way through the cozy mansion.
The bander app people are addressing global issues, safety to all kids, no nuclear threats, everyone working on thriving instead of tearing at each other.
He just wants peace, and more than anything safety for his girls, a place where rpsts and predators are not allowed.
That’s a social contract he could stand behind and wants to see win…
…He can’t stop thinking, what are his limits to making the world a better place for everyone?
Spotify has him on for 20 more sessions before he will take a pause and ask them for permission to suspend the contract. Or outright leave and work more informally.
He could do those in 3 months while making his preparations to relocate with his family.
He still wants to try running a podcast from the bander time app and still wants to keep a door open to the rat race, just in case.
He drops 3 boxes for his family on the kitchen counter.
Calls them out loud.
Then he face palmed himself, right! They’re visiting a community over 2 hours west today.
Marshal Mae and Charlie Lou take turns barking at him, followed by puppy faces and whimpers.
“All right all right, come on guys, y’all can come with.”
He kicks his shoes off.
He puts 2 boxes in the fridge.
Takes a step back and does a super gentle roundhouse kick to the fridge door, nudging it shut with his foot and toe socks.
Very athletic.
“Hee-hee, more for me… and Jamie… and Stan.”
They’ve been waiting.
Joe walks into his studio, apologizes for being a little late and drops the 3 pizza boxes.
He hugs Jamie and shakes Stan’s hand followed by a half hug and asks him how’s it going with his car.
“Indeed, it’s a total chick-magnet sir, and it compliments my Mc’Dress Geheime Staatspolizei perfectly.”
Stan is uniformed as a UNISAFETY F.F. Officer.
It’s a darker, sharper version of the former USMC’s dress blues.
Almost prada-ish.
He’s wearing skin-tight black leather gloves.
Not long after the Marines were deactivated, all the western powers united their police and military forces under Elite control in order to maintain civilization, law, order, and freedom.
United Safety Faith Force: “To the Victors, the spoils.” Bellamy salute.
They all settle down. They take bites out of the pizza and laugh at previous visits.
Joe is glad to have him on his show for his unique perspectives. Stan asks what plans Joe and Jamie have for next year.
The men have a mini competition of eating the pizza. Jamie had 5. Joe 6 and a half, almost finishing a box. Stan had a modest two, laughing at their vicious competition.
They all drink a dram of buffalo trace bourbon.
Stan offers Jamie and Joe Cohiba cigars, straight from Cuban prisons on a visit he was doing there.
He continues to share that he also went to El Salvador to study their prison-state business model and “our investments there.”
The drainage of labor from defection has made it necessary to re-vamp the engines behind the state’s economic needs.
“So we finally have the funding to build more detention centers. Now we can ramp up the immigrants, traitors, gays, trans, communists, woke-snowflake gangs, antifa, drug addicts, mental health risks, bums and well, lets just say, we’re facing a multi-front assault to our freedoms and we’re on schedule to respond”.
Stan assures them that the states now have better control of repopulation initiatives as well, “thanks to our more openly integrated system.”
Joe is confused to hear.
“Wait, that’s just, slavery with extra steps backed up in legalese.”
“Indeed sir, yes, slavery is constitutional, after all. It’s why we lead the world in incarceration, it makes many many products and services more affordable.
The model is a balance between supporting the towns mutually with a productive detention pipeline, while the cities will be for ultra wealthy and top officers only.
I’m only 2 ranks away from top officer status, I’m just one big arrest away I’d say.”
Joe shakes his head, “This just seems, so wrong.
Doesn’t seem like they want to fight anybody, they just want the option to walk away from the rat race. Like, should they have to pay off their debts and then they can–“
Jamie interrupts him, unheard. “Oh, so they don’t even have to pay debts back, they can just walk away from any situation and just bounce out… I gotta admit, I think that’s pretty cool to have the walk away option.”
Stan smirks, “Big things are coming soon. Any day now actually, we should be launching to get our land back.”
He winks at joe, “Indeed, you heard it from me first sir.”
Jamie interrupts them.
Joe can’t believe what he’s hearing on the latest events news.
Charlotte North Carolina is under attack by UNISAFETY jet planes and an oncoming force of tank units and mech-humanoid turrets and mech-wolves.
All residents are personnel enemies of the states and traitors. Many Marine defectors had taken up livelihoods on this new age city.
UNISAFETY declared all military aged men from 8-65 will be eliminated. Women and children that surrender will be placed in re-education camp facilities.
Joes techno ringtone on his free Bander time phone goes off-
♪Suck, squeeze, bang, blow!♪
♪Suck, squeeze, bang, blow!♪
♪Suck, squeeze, bang, blow!♪
♪Gas it up and watch it go!♪
He apologizes to the guest and excuses himself a moment.
“no worries, good things come to those that wait”
Maggie Baird is speaking on behalf of his family, their phone charge ran out, they just wanted to let you know that they miss you.
They’re scared with what they heard in the news about Charlotte being under attack.
He asks her to tell them everything is okay. Just stay where they are, he’s got a guest and he’s going to close shop and call them back.
Charge their phones and be ready.
Joe sits down. Doesn’t know what to say.
“Listen, i’m sorry. In light of this war that’s going on I have to ask you to–“
“Please don’t bother yourself sir. Indeed, you’re under arrest.”
Stan brings out his concealed Smith & Wesson gun-a-sorus rex again.
His sleeve is re-enforced, allowing him to shoot it one handed.
He smirks at Joe.
“The suspect was confronted with illegal drug use and supporting terrorist groups.
Indeed sir, Marijuana is a hell of a drug. Very illegal. And aiding and abetting terrorist groups… tsk tsk tsk sir.”
Aims the weapon at Jamie and mocks the situation,
“Unfortunately, there’s only space for one more in my Chevelle.
Jamie, the assistant criminal, tried to escape custody and reached for his pockets.”
“No sir, I swear, I’m not reaching–“
TWO BLASTS rip two massive holes through Jamie.
Joe cries out in frozen silent shock.
His ears are ringing.
His hands are up in complete submission, bolted shut to his chair.
All he can think about is that his family should be safe. He just needs to sound some kind of alarm.
“Lay down Joe.” Stan is standing above him, menaces with the gun, “the threat is real. Don’t make me use this on you also.”
Joe is thinking about just rushing this evil tyrant and taking bullet shots if he has –“
“Oh no, indeed, I told him to stop resisted, but instead of complying, he sicked his dog on me”
The dogs are cuddled up in the corner, whimpering in fear from since the gun blasts.
Joe turns to–
–A blast rings out and a dogs yelp.
Marshal Mae was hit and is crying in pain, quickly quieting down to silence.
Charlie Lou has his ear down and body on the ground. He didn’t move. Shaking. Looking at Joe and begging him to just comply.
Joe starts shrinking on his knees, and then like a worm on the floor.
“Indeed sir, you’re worth more alive than dead. Here”
Stan tosses Joe some hand-cuffs, “put them on.”
Joe does as told. A pool of Jamies blood is oozing towards him.
His corpse is twitching a little.
Stan uses the phone.
“Hold the van back. Family isn’t here. Indeed, a real shame, I was hoping for a jackpot. Keep a unit at the ready while beta unit cleans up.”
He hangs up, looks at Joe’s desk. Picks a picture of his family up. Tells joe, “Indeed sir, wanna know why Texas is so great and why I moved here? Abortion is absolutely illegal, no matter what. Just thought you should know…”
Armed men in dark blue and black UNFF uniforms come and put Joe in Stan’s custom all black 1973 Chevelle.
They wrap him up in styrofoam like a straight jacket. Inject a relaxant on him. buckle him into the passenger’s seat.
Joe feels he’s going to puke. He sees everything like a blur.
Completely helpless. Can’t do anything.
Thinks about poor Jamie. Worries what’s going to happen to his family.
Stan stopped the car, called “Dibs” on the radio.
Joe recognized the lady from the Native American Cultural Center.
What’s this, what’s he doing? No!,
his thoughts felt muffled as he watches in horror.
Stan pulled up to a Native woman and her baby daughter. “Indeed M’am, you’re a long way from Mexicooo seniorita.” Asked her to present her documents. She said she wasn’t Mexican, he demanded “Prove it”. When she hesitated, he pointed a gun and asked her to come in for questioning for suspicious behavior, he’s a federal officer. She cried quietly, “wait, I can show you my license, i’m Native american” as he zip-tied her and ordered her into the trunk, gun pointed at her baby “yeah whatever”. He then put the baby in with her.
Duct taped both their mouths, and closed the trunk on them.
He then speeds down the highway, south bound.
Stan puts the radio on, patriotic country-metal.
Hits a few UNISAFETY Checkpoint.
He flashes his diplomatic passport.
He keeps going.
Roughly 6 hours later.
Stan tightens his grip on his steering wheel.
His 1973 Chevelle engine rumble and grumble as in zigzags inward to the ultra high security prison gate.
San Benito Detention Center, a for-profit contractor for Urban Strategies Corps.
A fortress within a fortress city. The international demographic wore mostly UNISAFETY uniforms, the few that didn’t served them.
The economy here was stable and still linked with the main republic.
At the prison center.
Joe wakes up. Uncomfortably cocooned in plastic wrap.
“Welcome to your new home sir. We hope you like your arrangements. A little different from your mansion.
I’m going to take a shower and some rest. Indeed, I’ll see you soon. ok sir?”
Stan orders that the criminals be processed quickly.
“Indeed Charrington, the pocahontas package in the trunk is for O’Brien. Tell him that’s my pay back for that favor from last week.
And the illegal scum-bag up front is none other than Joe Rogan.
“Awww no way” Charrington can’t believe his eyes. “You actually found him. They’re going to love him in here. Fkn raaaaaad”
“Indeed, I can smell that promotion already.”
Joe’s fingerprint and saliva samples are taken.
He’s stripped of his clothes.
He’s hosed down by a group of masked guards that encircled him.
He had to pick up and use the soap they threw at his feet.
They laughed and made remarks on his physique, dared him to try that jiu-jitsu sht here.
Joe remained quiet and obedient.
They ordered him to put on an orange jumpsuit.
He was transferred to different cells every 5 to 20 minutes for about an hour.
Zombie sounding moans and occasional yelling and clanging come from the hallways.
Rows and rows of anonymous cells, their doors with the food slots sealed shut.