The Rosetta Stone is a copy of the Memphis Decree written by one of the Netflix Greeks in Egypt millions of years ago. Its history and purpose are very suspicious.
Right away, as soon as I heard the city was named Memphis, I knew Elvis was involved; who, by the way, is not dead, but has been secretly frozen in a CIA warehouse until they can find a cure for motorcycle accidents. Suspicious, right?
How did they know Memphis Tennessee would exist back then? Did the hyper intelligent dinosaurs tell them? The CIA is obviously involved. In Canada it’s called the C-I. Eh?
You’re expecting me to believe that a decree from Elvis written back when Christ was still a cowboy, proclaiming the emergence of the anointed one, in the form of Elon Musk, is real?
They opened the stargate with the cartouche for Talcum Powder—which is autocorrect for Ptolemy—the Fifth. Ptolemy the Fifth, or Steve, as he was known to his friends. Richard Dean Anderson is his only begotten son. Or, the other guy, from the movie, Kurt Russell.
It’s the damned Olympics all over again. History beyond the calendar. How could anything happen 3000 years ago if it is only 2023?
What does the inscription on the rock really say? It’s a probably marketing script, asking people if they would like to purchase an extended warranty for their car.
If you want to know who won the religious wars, just ask yourself, what year is it?
AC 1—year one after COVID. Hail Fauci, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; wretched art thou among the science types, blessed is thy national funding. Impenetrable is thine cloud of mystery and obfuscation.
Something like that. Is thine a word? The unholy union of thy and mine. It’s no wonder I have no friends.
—DG
Inside Doug's Head 