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Preface

⚠️ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. ⚠️

This blog is not PG-13. I'm here to ruffle your feathers.

It’s savage. It’s explicit. It’s truth served raw and bloody, straight off the cosmic butcher’s block.

If you’re easily offended or threatened stop reading right the fuck now.

Because we’re about to talk God, Satan, spirals, slot machines, and the beast inside your own damn soul, and we’re not doing it gently. You will end up crying or laying awake at night reconsidering your entire life's decisions.

This isn’t for delicate sensibilities or pearl-clutchers looking for inspirational fridge magnets.

This is nuclear honesty with zero fucks given.

So buckle up, buttercup. Or get the fuck out.

Previously, I told you all engines were off. That was true.

We were running systems checks. Buttoning up bolts. Scanning for gremlins in the wiring.

Well… systems check complete.

I’ve found something. Now I get to ask my favorite question. What does stir in you?

And now, I’m testing new code in the system, to see if it fits.

Also, we’re running a diesel engine here. And if you know diesel, you know we’re not letting this shit gel up.

So buckle the fuck up. Because two things are about to happen:

1. New Systems Pre-Flight Test.
2. We’re pushing the rockets to maximum burn rate.

Think Top Gun: Maverick when Mav ignores all limits, cranks that bird from Mach 8 to Mach 10, and dares the sky to stop him.

I know what happens to everyone else if I don’t…

Transitioning to Scram Jet

Yes, I am a ruthless savage.

But I’ve got a big fucking heart.

And I care about my people far too much to watch them wither away, stuck in their own bullshit.

So here’s what you need to know:

• It’s going to hurt.
• You may not like it at first.
• You might hate me for it for a bit.
• You’ll probably say: “Who the fuck does this guy think he is?”
• You’ll roll your eyes, call me arrogant, or claim I’m “too much.”
• You might accuse me of being cold, harsh, or unfeeling.
• You might think, “This can’t possibly apply to me. I’m fine.”
• Part of you will want to slam this shut and go back to the comfort of ignorance.
• Another part of you… will keep reading.

Because deep down, you know:

The truth you avoid is the key to the freedom you crave.

And when you hear someone say shit like:

“Oh honey, I don’t want to hear Dalton’s new blog post, I want to enjoy my Independence Day with family. That's what family's for.”

Respond with:

He said you'd say something like that

Pause.

Watch them squirm.

Now the big moment.

You can tuck your bitch tail between you legs and stamp a thumb on your forehead.

Or you can grow some bigger nuts ask better questions. (Here I brought some for you)

Why would they try to silence me? Or you?

That's your fucking signal to KEEP GOING.

Fun Fact about independence, it isn't won through smiles and laughs, its won though...well winning. You actually have to TAKE it, in order to HAVE independence. Are you keeping the peace, or winning it?

A lot of thumbs in the world. Watch out! You might be under one and not even realize it. Thumbs can be sneaky.

Here's my promise to you.

This one will cut to the bone.

Be ready for tears.

Because today is Independence Day.

I’ll enjoy mine. You can enjoy yours too, or you can enjoy eternal damnation.

The choice is yours. All it takes is one to start a movement.

Prep Work (Heartless, I Know)

And if you’ve got a softer squishier side, but still want to continue, here’s your survival guide:

✅ Take a deep fucking breath.

✅ This pill doesn’t work overnight.

✅ Depending on how severe your case is, you might need to take Truth™ 2-3 times a day.

✅ 30-90 days minimum per your spiritual doctor’s recommendation… or longer, until you finally fucking wake up.

Recommendations From Self-Love Queen:

• Get cozy.
• Make yourself a tea.
• Hot water bottle.
• Rollers in your hair.
• Comfort film queued up.
• Give yourself a big, juicy hug.
• Treat yourself like someone you actually love.

If that doesn’t get you through this…

…I honestly don’t know what to tell you.

Strap in, Maverick. We’re going for Mach 10 for a test ride.

Lucky 7s, Satan’s Scam, and Why God’s Out Here Dropping Spirals Like He’s Swinging a Divine Dick

Alright, gather the fuck around. Because we need to have a serious, expletive-laced family meeting about numbers.

For some cosmic reason, humans have decided that 6 is the devil’s personal ball sack, while 7 is basically Jesus’s left testicle dipped in holy water.

Meanwhile, the universe is facepalming so hard it’s causing solar flares.

Because here’s the cosmic plot twist:

We’ve been worshipping the wrong goddamn number this whole fucking time.

The REAL Trademark of God: Fibonacci, Motherfuckers

Let me lay this out for you like a mob boss slamming a briefcase on the table: God’s signature isn’t some old dude with a beard riding clouds like an Uber. It’s a motherfucking spiral.

Say hello to the Fibonacci sequence:

1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, and on and on until your mortal brain hemorrhages.

Crunch those numbers long enough and you hit the Golden Ratio: 1.6180339887…

And if some clown pipes up going, “Isn’t that just 6 repeating?” — I hope your phone autocorrects every future text you type to “I’m a dumbass.”

Where Fibonacci’s Out Here Swinging the Almighty Cock of Creation

• In nature:
• Sunflowers spiral tighter than a virgin’s asshole on prom night.
• Pinecones flex geometry like they’re starring in a physics OnlyFans.
• Fun Fact: About 63 % of OnlyFans subscribers are men, and of those men, about 89.5 % are married.
• Fun Fact: I've never, ever,, once in my life seen a married man in a strip club. (I've got your back 😉)
• Nautilus shells look like God sketched “fuck symmetry” on a cocktail napkin.
• In art:
• Da Vinci out here screaming, “LOOK AT MY RATIO, BITCHES!”
• Ancient temples built like they’ve been through God’s geometry boot camp.
• In finance:
• Wall Street bros foaming at the mouth over Fibonacci retracements because even capitalism wants a taste of divine order. (Divine Order with a 6? Pshhh)

Phi is the divine watermark on everything. God’s quiet way of going:

“Sit the fuck down. I invented beauty.”

Meanwhile, y’all are humping slot machines hoping for triple sevens.

Meanwhile… Satan’s Running a Fucking PR Firm

But you?

You're the Chief Greed Officer..

You're the Chief Lust Officer..

You're the Chief Pride Officer...

You get the point.

Over in Hell’s conference room, Satan’s got a ring light, an iced caramel macchiato, and a pitch deck:

“Terrorize them with 666 (the true divine order) then we slap a halo on 7 and sell them sin as self-care?”

So here comes the Seven Deadly Sins.

• Pride
• Envy
• Wrath
• Sloth
• Greed
• Gluttony
• Lust

Otherwise known as:

Your entire fucking TikTok, Facebook and Instagram Feed.

The Devil’s Seven Deadly Sins™ — Now With Extra Fuckery And a Subscription Plan

• Slot machines howling Lucky 7!
• → Translation: “Greed’s open for business, come piss away your rent money.”
• Netflix benders until your couch has your ass imprint?
• → Sloth, but we call that “radical rest,” darling.
• Instagram reels?
• → A six-course meal of Pride, Envy, and Lust, garnished with clinical depression.
• “Treat yo’ self!”
• → Gluttony. And sometimes Lust, depending who’s offering the treat.

The devil isn’t stomping around with goat legs anymore. He’s a slick-ass influencer whispering in your AirPods:

“Main Character Energy.”

“Chase the bag.”

“Live your truth.”

Meanwhile, Fibonacci spirals are out here in your sunflower garden screaming:

“HELLO, I’M THE LITERAL FUCKING BLUEPRINT OF REALITY.”

…but we can’t hear them over the slot machines promising “bonus spins.”

Humanity’s Logic is a Flaming Diaper Fire

Here’s how humanity thinks:

• 6 = Satan’s mixtape.
• People act like the Walmart cashier’s going to burst into flames if the total hits $6.66.
• Karen refuses to sit in Row 6 Seat 6 like Beelzebub’s gonna crawl out of the overhead bin.
• 7 = Holy as Mother Mary’s coochie.
• Seven days of creation. God takes a nap.
• Slot machines jizz confetti and coins if you hit triple sevens.

Meanwhile, the Seven Deadly Sins are lurking in Lucky #7 jerseys, railing coke off your bank statements.

That’s not divine. That’s Hell’s goddamn brand marketing.

Satan: The Fucking Don Draper of Eternal Damnation

Give credit where it’s due. Lucifer is the Steve Jobs of temptation. The Bezos of vice.

“Let’s repackage sin as empowerment and stamp a shiny 7 on it. These gullible bitches will eat it up.”

And motherfucker, he was right.

• Wrath → “I’m just protecting my energy, okay?”
• Lust → “Sex positivity, queen!”
• Gluttony → “I’m living my best foodie life.”
• Greed → “Building generational wealth, bitch!”
• Envy → “Just manifesting my best life.”
• Sloth → “Self-care is resistance.”
• Pride → “Main Character Energy.”

Meanwhile, Fibonacci spirals are stabilizing galaxies, pollinating flowers, and whispering secrets of the universe, and you’re like:

“Sry, gotta spin this slots app one more time.”

You Are the Beast You’re Running From

“Let the one who has understanding calculate…”

— Revelation 13:18

There’s a riddle tucked into the end of the Bible:

“Let the one who has understanding calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of a man, and his number is 666.”

It’s an invitation. A dare. A cosmic puzzle.

In the first century, people were certain this “man” was Nero Caesar, whose name sums to 666 in Hebrew numerology. For centuries, we’ve chased that number through history, politics, conspiracy rabbit holes—always hunting monsters outside ourselves.

But here’s the savage twist:

What if the beast is us?

Man is 6. The Mask is the Beast.

Biblical symbolism 101:

• 6 = the number of man. Imperfect, incomplete, messy as fuck.
• 7 = the number of God. Perfect, whole, divine.

We’re sixes. We spill coffee, ugly cry in the shower, and say dumb shit at parties.

And that’s okay.

But instead of embracing our glorious chaos, we pretend to be sevens:

• Perfect selfies.
• Flawless families.
• Curated enlightenment.
• “Living our best lives.”

We slap on masks of perfection, screaming “LOOK HOW DIVINE I AM,” while hiding the swirling dumpster fire inside.

That pretending? That’s the beast.

The more we deny our imperfections, the more monstrous they become. We become the very thing we fear:

A lie in flesh. A beast in disguise.

Where Fibonacci Fits In

So where the fuck does Fibonacci come in? Right here:

Some say Fibonacci is 6. Let’s break it down:

• The Fibonacci sequence goes: 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, …
• The Golden Ratio (Phi) ≈ 1.618033…
• Found EVERYWHERE—in seashells, galaxies, flowers, your ex’s boyfriends perfectly symmetrical face.
• Each ratio of consecutive Fibonacci numbers edges closer to Phi.

So why link it to 6?

• Because .618 (the decimal part of Phi) symbolically echoes 6.
• Or because 6 is the number of man and natural creation:
• God made man on the 6th day.
• Hexagons (6 sides) make honeycombs and snowflakes—nature’s geometry, pure Fibonacci porn.

So maybe…

✅ Fibonacci = divine order, beauty, nature → symbolized by 6.

If that’s true, then 6 isn’t just imperfection—it’s the fingerprint of creation woven into the bones of the universe.

Fun Fact to wrap your head around: There are more stars in the sky than grains of sand on earth.

But who cares about how God created the entire observable universe? So long as everyone thinks I'm perfect, thats what is important.

Facing The Beast (How You Become Closer To The Divine)

So let’s tie this cosmic clusterfuck back together:

• We’re sixes—human, flawed, unfinished.
• We keep pretending to be sevens—perfect, godlike.
• That pretending? That’s the beast lurking in the shadows.

You are the beast you’re running from.

But here’s the divine mic drop:

When you stop faking perfection, you come closer to God.

Because true divinity doesn’t demand flawlessness. It demands truth.

So face your chaos. Drop the act. Let go of pretending to be seven. Because six—honest, humble, messy as a spilled margarita—is often closer to God than any masquerade of perfection.

Or, you could say fuck it. Buy a cabin and go fishing for 26 days straight. Pretend you life is perfect with a 7 and thumb print on your forehead.

Oh and what did God do on the 7th day?

He rested.

Now back to kindergarten:

7 - 1 = X

If you're at a family gathering, ask the youngest in the group. Surely they will know the correct answer.

Oh, yes, almost forgot...

Here's what I've found. What does it stir in you?