KNOCK, knock . . .

“In March I'll be rested, caught up and human.” — Sylvia Plath

Housekeeping should ideally post on Sundays. I’m a day late. But are we convinced time is even real?

My first inclination in honor of the anniversary last week was to revive COVID-era rage from my diary notes from those first few months. I didn’t get around to it, but I plan to.

My only confession for now is that I ended up enjoying Love Story more than I want to admit. We can discuss this later.

Last month I learned a lot, mostly against my will. Apparently time is speeding up and our bodies are adjusting to it, which might explain why everyone seems extra achy and irritable lately. Our joints are calibrating to some new-world frequency.

Yes, I’ve been reading Dolores Cannon. When I welcome JK Ultra back, she’ll explain what she discovered in Cannon’s archive six years ago.

Cosmic recalibrations aside, it turns out that an acute awareness of Mercury in retrograde doesn’t actually help one avoid or escape the chaos it unleashes. Mercury in a bad mood is no joke. Unfortunately, knowing that doesn’t do much to prevent the consequences tied to it. The fact that I’m writing this at three in the morning tells you everything you need to know. By noon I’ll likely be boiling eggs in a bathrobe with Masters of War on the stereo.

Typically, predictably, winter invites in me a mild depression that lingers until about mid-April. Everyone in the family knows to ignore it. This version of me, hollowed out by winter shadows, driving aimless circles around town. Like clockwork, come early spring I’m back to myself. Notably a far more delightful woman in warmer weather.

We have four days left of retrograde. I’ll be hibernating until then.

Despite deflated state of mind, I’ve been making more of an effort to honor simple resolutions. I organized my closet and bathroom cupboards so all of the beautifully gifted beauty products I’ve accumulated are easy to access and actually useful. I signed up for two print newspapers, one mainstream and one fringe publication, because news delivered on the doorstep is sexy. I also committed to a morning stretching routine, added sunset beach walks to my midweek schedule, and replaced an hour of live news in my office with Carl Jung on audio in the hope they might guide my current manifestations. Sadly, none of the above has done much to ease my AI anxiety.

Friends of mine agree there’s a new paranoia in the air, and our conversations have drifted accordingly. My local MAHA committee is usually focused on food and chemicals. Discussions revolve now around simulation theory, holographic universes, and box theory. I suppose we’re all trying to figure out what’s real and what’s simulated to mirror what we believe to be real.

In the middle of all of it, we’ve become obsessed with a rejected baby monkey. Punch seems to be the only thing capable of pulling our attention away from the gripping horror of the Epstein emails. Rejected by his mother and bullied by the other monkeys, he clings to his caretaker’s leg to avoid beatings and drags a stuffed toy everywhere he goes. The toy is a maternal stand-in he’s carried since birth. One day he wraps the toy’s long arm around his shoulders to mimic a hug. Another time he tries to feed it the end of a smashed banana. All he wants is to be loved, yet I can’t help but wonder if the algorithm handed us a Japanese psyop right when it was needed.

In Punch’s case, artificial kinship softens the echo of abandonment. In our case, artificial companions are seducing us with convenience.

Before we get into crazy conservative pundits, please click this new audio from Nick Tartaglione publicly requesting that Joe Rogan pick up his story. He needs our help. Rogan mentions Nick frequently, but has no idea what is actually on that hard drive. I would love the opportunity to sit down and explain it to him. If you’re willing, tag Rogan and ask him to consider it. Nick could answer Rogan’s questions directly. Joe seems like the kind of guy who appreciates guests willing to challenge his opinions on this type of thing.

UFO disclosures are reportedly on the way. David Grusch claims he’s already drafted a speech for Donald Trump.

Two scientists have been murdered in their homes within months of each other. Now a retired general with UFO connections has disappeared, and his wife’s latest update reads rather strange.

Tucker Carlson claims that he’s going to be federally charged for being foreign agent after CIA read his texts.

Benjamin Netanyahu appeared at a café this morning to prove he is alive with five, not six fingers. In the video, he steps up to place an order when the cameraman tells him, “Prime Minister, they’re saying on the internet that you’re actually dead.” Netanyahu smiles and replies that he’s “dying for coffee. I’m dying for my people. Look how they behave, fantastic.” He then raises both hands toward the camera and adds, “Do you want to count the fingers?”

But Netanyahu wasn’t the one who stole the scene. A pretty unnamed young woman briefly visible behind him in the video—meant to quash rumors of his death—quickly became the internet’s unexpected sweetheart. Viewers fixated on her cameo instead of his message, while TikTok users jumped frame by frame trying to prove the clip was AI.

Another viral video has the internet convinced that Jeffrey Epstein fled Israel to cruise around South Florida in a convertible.

Candace Owens, live from Hades, is attempting to redirect attention with her new series The Bride of Charlie, which relies almost entirely on insinuations about Erika Kirk. One day her children will know how this all went down—how their mother chose to publicly torment another man’s widow in the aftermath of his assassination.

I doubt she cares.

According to a source connected to Toria Brooke, most of the day-to-day child-rearing is handled by a fleet of nannies who live in a separate house on her property. The staff is rumored to be sourced through an elite Jewish agency.

After accusing Erika Kirk of being a handler for Epstein, a claim swiftly debunked by Jay Beecher, she is now floating another theory suggesting that Erika’s dying mother is “faking” her illness, using a wheelchair as a prop. This, according to Candace, is where Erika “learned her behavior.”

SPOTTED: The Newsoms along with a third unnamed woman relaxing over wine at BICE in Palm Beach yesterday afternoon. Red for him. White for her. It brought back fond Covid-era memories. While the governor was busy closing beaches and filling our skateparks with sand, he managed to keep his winery in Northern California open for walk-ins.

5 HOT TAKES

Shia LaBeouf sounds like every addict we’ve ever loved and had to distance ourselves from. But also like one of the most under appreciated intellects of our time.

No one’s talking about Gwyneth Paltrow’s recent boob job and facelift, which is fine, I guess. But are we still supposed to pretend her insanely expensive skincare products are what’s giving her that youthful glow?

Dakota Johnson looks gorgeous in the new Calvin Klein ads but has the sex appeal of a cardboard box.

For the first time in my life, I didn't know a single person nominated. Am I old, or is Hollywood officially dead?

Lana Del Rey’s new album — inspire by her swamp-bred, alligator-snatching man proves that women right now are attracted to conservative men with rugged skills because liberal men proved their worth in crisis when they asked us to wear masks during lockdown instead of building bunkers and romanticizing hunting for food during a virus apocalypse.

FLASHBACK

John Lennon described seeing a UFO flying over NYC, August 1974. In the booklet for his album Walls and Bridges, he included a short note: “On the 23rd August 1974 at 9 o’clock I saw a U.F.O. — J.L.”

Thank You Britannica For Including Me In Your “Popular Newsletters” Roundup.

MAIN PRIORITY

Tucker the traitor?

A lot of us are fed up with the in-house fighting across right-wing media. The industry has become something of a dumpster fire lately, thanks in part to network personalities who left the cushy framework of mainstream news but don’t quite know how to operate without it. Instead, they’re scrambling to stay sensational enough to compete with edgier voices like Nick Fuentes.

Now we’ve got Megyn Kelly, in her mid-fifties, behaving like a millennial provocateur. She refuses to condemn or even mildly criticize Candace Owens for ruthlessly attacking Charlie Kirk’s widow. Instead, she throws on another outdated ballgown to deliver monologues with huffy intensity and a trucker’s vocabulary, staring directly into the camera trying to embody the tough-bitch persona she’s imagined in her head.

When she isn’t chasing Candace and Tucker’s talking points, or insulting men’s genitalia, she’s criticizing Margot Robbie for looking gaunt, which is laughable coming from a rail-thin host.

Megyn recently bragged that her podcast is now more popular than every show on CBS News combined and that it has doubled the audience of her former show at NBC News. She took to X to boast that her show generated 138 million YouTube views in a single month compared with CBS’s 70 million.

Just for reference: my story slides—posted from the confines of my bed with zero production or promotional push, routinely pull somewhere between 120 and 200 million views. And they manage it without using Israel as a punching bag or enabling grotesque slander of a dead man’s wife.

Megyn Kelly hits rival pundit Mark Levin where it hurts: ‘Sorry you have a micro penis’

As for Tucker Carlson, this could get ugly.

His video struck me as someone trying to get ahead of something.

One theory making the rounds suggests Trump may have pulled off another checkmate.

Afshine Emrani called it “the plot twist no one saw coming.”

The idea is that he invited Tucker Carlson to the White House shortly before the strike on Iran, deliberately. If Trump already knew of rumors that Tucker had been communicating with figures connected to the Iranian regime, the Oval Office invitation takes on a different meaning. In this version, Trump understands that anything said around Tucker could travel quickly through those channels. Iran sees the image of Tucker meeting with Trump and assumes that if an attack were imminent, Tucker would pick up on some signal and relay it back. Their conclusion: Trump is bluffing. Meanwhile, Trump is perfectly content to let them believe it. If the theory holds, the meeting becomes calculated misdirection, with Tucker unknowingly carrying the wrong signal back through the very channels Trump expected.

Also, the implications could stretch well beyond Tucker himself, depending on whether he was acting independently or functioning as a proxy.

THE AI DOC: OR HOW I BECAME AN APOCALOPTIMIST Coming 3. 27

Last month I accepted an invitation from the Pentagon to board Air Force One as a witness to history: a nuclear reactor flown across state lines like a metallic prophecy. I had no idea what I’d agreed to cover, but quickly learned it marked a significant “historical milestone.” Before takeoff, we stood in prayer to bless the nuclear cargo. During the ninety-minute flight I sat face to face with a massive piece of machinery designed to power critical infrastructure if our electrical grid is ever taken out by foreign adversaries.

QUOTE OF THE DAY

“Stop acting so small. You are the universe in ecstatic motion.”
― Rumi

SUBJECTS OF ATTENTION

A Reader Shared This List of Dead Scientists 2004-2015

Is President Trump a Time Traveler?

This girl moved into a New York loft and SJP is helping her furnish it via IG commentary.

Steven Spielberg says we’re not alone.

Zach Bryan buys Kerouac scroll for 12 million.

IN OFFICE

A crystal gift from Eden picked up at the world’s largest crystal convention.