The Noxsoma Chronicles [0061]
11-20-2025 … Day 23641 (Full Metal Thorsday)
Nighty-night Bunny Rabbit
It started with four words.
“We like your show.”
It was a text message. On Telegram of course.
“Thanks.” I reply. Usually, I like to mess with these anonymous messages. Click! I sign off. Got work to do.
A few days later. They are back.
“Do you want more subscribers on your Substack?”
“Why are you asking?” I ask.
“We can help.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Click. Sign off. Got work to do.
We make videos daily. What does this require? Whatever you see in the video, besides the video itself, needs to be done daily. Daily walks, daily recording, daily drops, daily editing, daily uploads. Then making corrections when we get too complacent and mess up. Plus we have to eat. We don’t eat out or order in. We prepare, cook and eat in our little apartment. Plus we are reading some crazy stuff and commenting on the craziest stuff. We don’t even count how many hours a day we are “working” on this labor of love. Maybe we should count the hours we aren’t working on it. Maybe ten. Eight of which is sleep.
We don’t have time for scammer-chicks.
We check in on the T-gram every few days. Sometimes we forget. So it’s been maybe three days. Aside from all the messages in the accounts we monitor, we have yet another one from … the nom du jour in the profile.
“We can help you reach your 823,543 subscriber goal.”
WTF! They know the magic number. I am not only impressed but paranoid too. Impressed because they must have watched an episode or two. So they have my attention.
“We think you have great potential and your channel deserves a wider reach.”
“Yeah,” I reply – this is 95% of comments I get on the Rumble channel. “I have heard this before.”
“We can make it happen. You have an elegant and humorous way with words and an attractive rhythm to your voice.”
“Thanks.” My text is meant dryly, but I send an emoticon with dark sunglasses and a smirk. It’s kind of like my logo. The international look of the “smart ass.” Smart, but still an ass. Skeptical, but still gullible. Wants to believe, but doesn’t want to be trapped into the honey trap – or the money trap.
“We just want to help you reach your goals. We can do everything remotely.”
“Prove it!” I challenge.
Over the next week my dormant subscriber counts double and I am getting crazy amounts of views on my page and those corny comments about how much these episodes are needed, how professionally they are done, and the kind of crap that you see in the comments of fake news reports on YouTube.
It’s not the magic number – but it got my attention.
Let’s just hit the hyperspace button.
Your humble vagabond, through a series of corrupt practices, is now quietly worth “billions.” We are showing up at ritzy spots around the world. We are still kind of under-cover because there are so many other billionaires out there, "we" can fade into the mush.
Of course the show has changed – 3 hour podcasts, interviewing humans I don’t really know, but know that I don’t like. Here’s the format – I welcome viewers to the podcast, thank sponsors, sell you merch, scare you into buying some gold derivatives, mining stocks, moon rocks and prime Martian real estate and electric scooters. I introduce the guest. [I don’t know this feckin’ dude] – AI has written the intro. I don’t know whether he is all the script says he is or not.
I welcome him. We shoot the shit. I ask him one question and he talks non-stop for the better part of an hour. I am trying to appear interested.
Gotta take a break. Beg up more subscriptions, sell more fearporn, talk shit about whomever is the current baddie on the international scene. Suck up to the supreme demographic cohort. Back to the show. Ask dude another “safe” question, he talks until the next break.
There’s a ridiculous amount of wealth attached to my “personality.” It’s not in my pocket. But it’s on my balance sheet. And I do okay.
“This is bullshit.” I say this to myself every single freekin’ day. Your boy has made a deal with Mephistopheles.
“I am Keanu Reeves in ‘The Devil’s Advocate!’” I say in a voice right out of “Fight Club.”
The international spotlight is starting to catch me more often now. The dark circles under my eyes are covered with concealer, but they can’t match my skintone, so I look kind of “off.” I have to wear these false teeth everywhere I go. I call them “Tom Cruise teeth.” They make me look like I am perpetually smiling, because I can barely close my freekin’ mouth.
Flick-flick-flick-flick… the continuous sounds of digital cameras going. Camera flashes like lightning. My pupils constantly open – close – dilated – pop-pop-pop – “over here” – “look here” – “Is it true you’re buying … ?”
Another W T F moment.
Everything written about me is fake. I read the digital news and I don’t know who the hell they are talking about. “Who am I dating?” “I was seen where?”
My handler comes in and orders me into a meeting. I know I am not in charge.
All of the accountants are in the room. They look like gangsters. They are smiling like undertakers who have experienced a surge in new business. Huge profits.
Turns out there’s a media platform whose holdings have an editorial policy that’s critical of the Dominant Group. The top of the top of the top 1% and they – this syndicate – needs to silence these critics. I – they tell me – am in a perfect position to purchase this dangerous multi-national global behemoth of far “out” ideology. The price is 33 gazillion dollars in cash. It will be the biggest acquisition in history. The accountants seem to be salivating as they rub their palms together like "Snidely-Whiplash".
It’s another W T F moment.
“Seems a little high…” I say – with a biting passive-aggressive sarcasm. As if my opinion has any weight in the decision.
After the deal is done, your no-longer-so-humble Tool of the Machine is compelled to accompany my inglorious co-conspirators at 16 hundred and talk about freedom, liberty, free speech, global dominance, Chai-coms, Ruskies, Head-choppers, Domestic Terrorists, Insurrectionists, Narco-Terrorists, our great land, our great wealth and whatever bullshit scrolls down the teleprompter.
I am talking and smiling through my Tom Cruise teeth. The sound of my voice is becoming more and more echoey – like a disembodied vibration. Everything is moving in slow motion.
I can see it coming. It’s spinnin’ - [if you know you know] - it’s spinnin’! I think it’s got my name on it. No. It’s not my name. It’s a message… it says…
“Nighty-night bunny rabbit.”
If you have ever seen “The Devil’s Advocate” you know how this ends.
I open the Telegram app. Slide over to personal messages. “Delete.” “Block.” “Report spam.”
Universe keeps your boy straight. I will reach my goal if it takes another hundred years.
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Let’s do the numbers.
We recalibrated the totals for the whole month and just like October Odysee is ahead of Rumble in total views. On Odysee a few episodes will get massive views, while Rumble is steady day to day. It looks like the Odysee viewership surges on weekends. Sunday in particular.
Today’s Score (11-20-2025)
BC … 37
Rum… 18
Ody….. 0
This Month So Far (11-20-25)
BC …… 2203
Rum ……559
Ody……. 648
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