51 Miles From Nowhere – Doctor Deathray & Her Implements of Destruction

Now is the time to resist

What up you neon raccoons, hydrogen ghouls, and everyday Nowhere punks? This is your preacher of the truth, your guide through the unknown, your post-y2k postal worker, the Bard of the Blackout, your friend to hold your hand in the dark and tell you that it’s all going to be over soon. This is Doctor Deathray, and to those dedicated to the cause, the time is nigh.

We’re here touting the anti-anthem to the Mother Corporation, also known as their previous name from the dot com era, Mother May I. A search engine turned us into a corporatacracy with their company town, company state, even their company nation as we’re destined to fight our way through the corporate wasteland left behind in the post Y2K hell scape that is Nowhere.

They may take our businesses, our homes, our second cousin twice removed, but they can’t take the mind. Listen to free thoughts. Make your own. Talk to the person next to you about what. They. THINK. Not what is the weather. Not isn’t it a pleasant day. Not “Did you hear what Sally did to Susie?” What they THINK in their mind. What do you THINK in yours? That’s where they can’t stop us. And that’s where they want to stop us by spoon-feeding us corporate-approved television broadcast over corporate owned airwaves into your corporate approved television.

The future is here. It’s just not here for me and you. The rich have their robots, their airships, their designer thoughts pre-planned for them by the man behind the mask, Mother. He breeds his hive mind. Leeching down, trickling down. Make the common people envy the rich, for the rich are greedy and easy to control. Mother May I. Mother May I have a job? Mother May I feed my family? Mother May I even live?