Humbling real-life stories of conspiracy theories and far-right radicalizations, all submitted by the audience and narrated by Jake Rockatansky. He is joined by Annie Kelly, Liv Agar, Travis View and Julian Feeld for our first all-hands-on-deck episode since our team expanded.
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Welcome, listener, to Premium Chapter 114 of the QAnon Anonymous podcast, the Listener Stories, Volume 5 episode.
As always, we are your hosts, Jake Rokitansky, Julian Field, Annie Kelly, Liv Agar, and Travis View.
The five of us are gathered here today because it's time for another chapter of stories sent in by our listeners.
Some disclaimers up top.
We are neither medical nor mental health professionals.
We don't endorse the content of these stories, nor are we able to verify their claims.
Having said that, I'm really not sure what anybody would gain from making up some of these heartbreaking tales of losing loved ones to QAnon and other similar far-right conspiracy theories.
We'd also like to thank everybody for sending in their stories, and we're sorry we're not able to air all of them.
So without further ado... President Obama owes me a hundred bucks.
I'm a mutual aid organizer in the Pacific Northwest.
One particular guy I work with slash bring water and cat food to every week or so is a real down-and-out older guy, lives in a busted trailer, doesn't seem to have good relationships with his kids slash the rest of his family, and health problems.
He spends most of his time generally on the internet, just basking in pilledness.
As an organizer with radical politics, I do my best to push back as I can and identify commonalities, say in distrust of the Democratic Party machine, while trying to pull out contradictions.
But it doesn't take long to realize that our chats simply can't break through constant time spent on Facebook groups, OAN, Newsmax, etc.
Mostly with isolation from any other positive human contact.
One day, I was taking him to the store, and he was just especially pissing me off with the batshit stuff he was saying that day, really focusing in on how he's heard that Kamala Harris used to be a real quote-unquote party girl, and that she got to her position by trading sexual favors for political power in California.
He's not a completely stupid person by any measure, so I just asked him, don't you think it's more likely that someone like her could gain power by simply serving the powerful interests above her, Locking up people that the state didn't like and harshly enforcing laws, etc.
I eventually just said that I think we get news from such different sources that we're largely not operating in the same reality.
He then told me that this wasn't just news, that he tapped into underworld channels.
I asked him what he meant.
And he said that in his life, he worked for the Democratic Party years ago and saw how the sausage got made.
He worked as a go-between with organized crime and the Kennedy family, money laundering, etc.
And because of that, he still has connections to the murky underworld of Democratic politics that give him these tips.
He also let me know that he used to know Obama when he was a, quote, kente cloth-wearing cocaine dealer in Chicago.
And Obama owes his friend $100 still.
It was just a very confusing moment that I've been pondering, thinking about the concept of autobiographical self-identification in conspiracy theories, especially from people who don't have anything to gain from it, really, as opposed to hopeful QAnon profiteers and grifters.
That was from Dee.
Yeah, we should get Dee to tell this guy that we will cyberbully Obama to give this guy his friend his $100 back.
Yeah, that's messed up.
That's a classic Obama move.
Reach out.
That is classic Obama.
A hundred bucks, that's a lot of money.
Alright listen, so in the end it's 60 bucks, but that's because I already gave you those 40.
Something that's really hard with this particular instance, and this reminds me of another video we watched a bit of on the Twitch stream of the dude who was going through the ancient or the original queue map and then said like, I think he used to be military and he said like he had memories that were repressed of him in a meeting with Donald Trump where Donald Trump like gave him the q-map I think or gave him like the the plan and it's like that's a pretty that's a particular instance where if that person is like sincere that they do think that they have generated that memory for whatever reason I guess
Again, not a psychologist, not sure how that phenomenon happens, but that's a very difficult thing to compete against.
Yeah, it's also just really rude just to say, no you didn't.
It's just like not polite.
It's not nice.
You got a yes and it's like, it's like, yeah, Obama owes me a hundred bucks.
No, he owes you 200 bucks.
I'm sure it's more.
You deserve, you deserve a $2,000 check.
Yeah, that's where you pivot.
Actually, he owes you $2,000.
Yeah, he owes you a lot more than that, folks.
They all do.
Our next story is titled The Pilled Nurse.
I'm a grad student in the Midwest.
COVID goes through a cycle here where numbers will get super high for a couple months, then the governor will institute like half a regulation, numbers will drop slightly, and then the governor will do something insane like open buffets.
Rinse and repeat.
Everyone I know has lost at least one person to COVID.
I've lost multiple family members, and my mom was in the hospital with it for a while.
It was really scary.
So when I ended up in the hospital this spring for something unrelated, one of the human body's bitch-ass vestigial organs can apparently just quit and cause you a lot of pain and fear on the way out, which is fun, I was not thrilled to be in the middle of a COVID crockpot.
Even through the morphine haze, I did my best to keep both the disposable mask the hospital gave me and my own fabric mask on.
As is typical for the hospital experience, someone woke me up at like 4am to take blood and stuff.
I realized that my mask had slipped off my face in my sleep.
I scrambled to put it back on since, you know, there was another person there.
The nurse, I think, I don't know, after a certain point all the scrubbed people giving you pills and taking your body fluids start to blur together, laughed and said, quote, no worries hun, you don't need to wear that thing.
I blinked at her.
I was in that hell zone where the morphine is pretty much gone but the pain is back but not as bad as it will get so my ability to process information was not great.
Did she want to give me a fresh mask?
At which point she pulled down her own mask to smile at me.
Quote, I only wear mine because we're required.
She proceeded to talk about how masks were an instrument of social control and also deprived us of oxygen which would limit higher brain function.
All while her mask was hanging below her nose.
Her rant continued, moving on to how masks allow elite pedophiles to move children around totally unseen, and how any celebrity COVID death was actually covering up something else, like an arrest.
And Joe Biden was actually a body double.
All of this interspersed with questions about my pain level and my bodily functions.
This isn't America.
Strap into your deathbed.
The nurse is home!
This could also just be, like, this person watched too many QAA episodes and hallucinated that the person was saying this and they're, like, subconscious.
Yes, that's it.
In a morphine daze.
Yeah, the person doesn't reveal whether they'd heard our podcast and their brain was poisoned so that the dreams that would come out of their morphine, obvious morphine addiction, you know, I'm reading between the lines.
Yeah, it was just the things that we put there.
I wasn't sure what to do, so I laid there in this shitty hospital bed, clutching to two kinds of gross masks like a security blanket, while Food Network played in the background.
As Pilled Nurse finished, she glanced up at the TV, where Guy Fieri was advertising some game show thing he's on now.
She said, you know he's one of the worst ones, right?
All kinds of skeletons in his closet.
Not Guy Fieri!
Guy Fieri did a fucking episode on Comet Ping Pong!
Did he?
He did, you're right!
He's in there cooking, like making the pizza with them.
Oh, no wonder.
I was now in pain, both physically and emotionally.
The concept of poor, sweet Fieri, patron saint of fried foods and lesbian weddings, being drawn into this awful, blood-libel reboot was too much to bear.
I rolled over and pretended to sleep until she left.
The next day, I told another nurse about the weird encounter.
She told me someone from the hospital would reach out, but that was almost a month ago.
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