We can all picture Richard Bandler riding a giant vampire bat that grabs young children and tosses them into the burning stomach of an enormous man-bull statue as a line of Rothschild’s wait for their turn.
But I’m not here to talk about what Richard Bandler does in his free time. I won’t even speculate on his favorite drink (infant blood), or his 2nd favorite drink (unicorn cum). I just want to talk about the night Richard Bandler got away with murder.
How evil is Richard Bandler? He shot his friend’s girlfriend in the face, with his gun, at her home, then convinced a jury that he didn’t do it. Now how does a gun, and its owner, get to the house of the victim in the first place? You get the picture, stay away from the guy.
Yet, here I was, on Bandler’s couch, taking a private NLP session to get over my food addiction.
“How often do you touch yourself?” Bandler asked. “No need to feel ashamed. We’re all friends.”
“What does that have to do with my food addiction?” I said.
“I’ll answer that.” Bandler said. “But first, I want you to look into my eyes. Imagine your hand is some pepper, and your dick is a baked potato. Lather that pepper over the potato. Let’s see how it taste.”
“What the hell?”
There was an awkward pause before I decided to take off the VR visor. Benjamin, had received the PlayStation VR setup to try the new NLP game “The Map is the Territory.” He didn’t tell me that Bandler was the games final boss. He did however tell me that there would be boobies, there were no boobies.
“Nice, Jose.” Benjamin said.
“Hell no! I ain’t doing that again.” I said.
“You only have to do it one more time. You can’t just quit treatment before its over. There could be major repercussions.”
“Oh yeah. Like what?”
“NLP is an egragore, Bandler is its patron. Disconnecting from your virtual therapy can damage your subconscious.” Ben said. “It has imprinted you. Or it hasn’t…. So you just can’t get up and quit. That’s some bad juju.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Ben looked into his exotic quartz crystal ball. That was my cue to scoot.
The whole train ride home I could hear Ben’s words but it was hard to take the man seriously. Imprinted? What kind of horseshit was that?
It’s easy to be scared of Bandler, who took the teachings of Milton Ericsson and used them to help usher in the era of consumerism that works as the engine of the world economy. The parasitic ecosystem that drifts towa the top 1%. No, Bandler didn’t invent consumerism anymore than Apple invented the smartphone, but like Steve Jobs, he put it into a package that everyone could understand, NLP.
Since then, the world has been a worst place. Not exactly because people use NLP, but because of what people have used NLP for. Like in advertising, where companies use NLP to bombard the subconscious with images of garbage no one needs and turning us all into zombies. Or how about the PUA’s? Do you think the world needs a bunch of geeks “peacocking” outside of cafes, night clubs, and pool halls? Can’t they just masturbate like the rest if us? What about Tony Franken’Robbins? Do we need another Arnold Swarzenegger running for office? How does any of that make the world better?
After about a gallon of vodka, and a g of grade A kush, I decided to charge a sigil before going to sleep. As I collapsed my head onto my pillow, my eyes started to close. I saw the face of Bandler staring at me from the foot of my bed as the conscious world began to disappear. He was smiling.
“Do you believe in Word Magick,” Bandler said as the world faded to black.
I heard a metallic clink, the air felt thick, then suddenly, a rush of hot steam shot onto my face. Forcing my eyes open. I looked around, I wasn’t in my room anymore. This was some shit out of a horror novel, or an 80’s movie, it was some kind of factory or basement, complete with mesh walkways and leaky steam pipes. I was standing in the corner of the giant room. There seemed to be a couple of levels above and below me. But my view was obstructed by steam.
“I must be dreaming,” I said.
I tried to pinch myself to wake up but it wasn’t happening. I screamed, I yelled, I even peed into the steam below, nothing. I was stuck in this dream. And worst, now I was sure that I was sleeping in my own piss.
I realized that it was more than a dream as a hot redhead emerged from the cloud of steam from across the mesh walkway and started walking towards me. She moved with feline precision, floating on a cloud of air. The whole time, peeling off her clothes until she was standing in front of me completely naked.
I didn’t waste any time as we went to the floor and started to get busy. I was about to get mine when I felt her pull away.
“You’re going to feel great,” Bandler said. I opened my eyes, the redhead’s face was replaced with Bandler’s. I tried to move but the thing had wrapped its legs around me. I could only manage to pull my head away..
“Sometimes people say ‘One day you’re going to look back at this and laugh.'” Bandler said. “My question is: ‘why wait?'”
He grabbed me by my ears and moved forward to kiss me. Just before he got close, his head exploded. Green bile splattering everywhere, including on my face. I looked up confused. Standing above me was my “savior”, with a shotgun pointing down towards the spot where Bandler’s head had been. My savior was also wearing a ski mask, which he took off to reveal a face I knew all too well, Ben Beardsley.
Ben put on his fedora then pumped a shell back into the chamber of his shotgun. “Get up.” He said.”We’re getting out of this places.”