8/27/2024: Late Addition Gen-Xer named Blaine, who is the keeper of a mysterious device of unknown origin and purpose, slung over his left shoulder.

Every day, I prompt AI Art with just my name to see what it thinks I am. Then, write up why I feel it came to its conclusion.

8/27/2024: Late Addition Gen-Xer named Blaine, who is the keeper of a mysterious device of unknown origin and purpose, slung over his left shoulder.

Kevin Wikse, a middle-aged Gen-Xer who somehow escaped the clutches of generational clichés, now finds himself carrying the name Blaine like an ancient curse. A name handed down to him like a twisted family heirloom, soaked in the sweat and tears of a thousand forgotten ancestors who knew far more than they ever dared to tell. Blaine, Kevin tells himself, is just a name—a simple, monosyllabic identifier. But the truth runs far deeper, tangled in the roots of something far more sinister.

Slung over his left shoulder, like a reluctant companion on this journey through a world gone mad, is the Device. Capital ‘D’ because anything else would be an insult to its ominous presence. It’s a hunk of metal and circuitry, or maybe it’s something more organic—a living, breathing enigma that pulses with a life of its own. The Device has no origin story, no patent or instruction manual, just a vague sense that it came from somewhere or someone who knew exactly what they were doing. Or maybe they didn’t, and that’s the point. Either way, the damn thing’s his problem now.

Kevin—no, Blaine—wasn’t always this way. He was once just another late-blooming Gen-Xer, drifting through life with a vague sense of unease that never quite materialized into anything concrete. The world moved on, and he stayed in place, a static figure in a rapidly evolving landscape. But then, one fateful night, after a few too many drinks at a dive bar that smelled of regret and cheap whiskey, Blaine stumbled upon the Device.

It wasn’t supposed to be his. Hell, it wasn’t supposed to exist. But there it was, sitting in a box on the curb outside the bar, like some cosmic trash left out for collection. Something about it called to him, a siren’s song only he could hear. So he picked it up, slung it over his shoulder, and walked into the night, unknowingly becoming its keeper, its guardian, its fool.

Now, Blaine carries the Device everywhere he goes. It’s not like he has a choice. The thing’s practically fused to him, an extension of his being that he can’t shake off no matter how hard he tries. It hums softly, almost reassuringly, but with an undercurrent of menace, as if it knows something he doesn’t. And maybe it does. Maybe the Device is the key to some grand cosmic puzzle, or maybe it’s just a hunk of junk that serves no purpose other than to drive him slowly insane.

People ask Blaine what the Device does, what it’s for. He gives them the same answer every time: “It’s a mystery.” Because that’s all he knows. That’s all anyone knows. It’s a riddle wrapped in a conundrum, shrouded in a fog of uncertainty that no one can penetrate. Not even Blaine, its reluctant master.

But in the dead of night, when the world is quiet and the only sound is the soft, eerie hum of the Device, Blaine wonders if maybe he’s not its master at all. Maybe the Device is the one in control, leading him down a path he can’t see, toward a destination he can’t comprehend. Maybe it’s all a sick joke, and he’s the punchline. Or maybe, just maybe, the Device is waiting for the right moment to reveal its true purpose—a purpose that will shake the foundations of reality itself.

Until then, Blaine will keep carrying it, because what else can he do? He’s the keeper of the Device, the guardian of a mystery that defies explanation. And deep down, in that place where fear and curiosity blend into a potent cocktail of anxiety, he knows that he’ll never be free of it. Not until it’s ready to be free of him.

So he trudges on, a middle-aged Gen-Xer named Blaine, cursed and blessed in equal measure, with a mysterious device slung over his left shoulder and a future that’s as uncertain as the purpose of the thing he carries. But that’s life, isn’t it? A series of inexplicable events strung together by the thinnest thread of sanity. And Blaine? He’s just trying to keep from falling off the edge.

-Kevin Wikse

Thank you for visiting my page. I am the only medium, remote viewer, and occultist who, with frightening and stunning accuracy, foresaw the COVID-19 pandemic/hoax and its sinister connections to China. Masks, weaponized and experimental vaccines, mandatory compliance, medical tracking on smartphones, the debacle of the 2020 election, the border crisis, the ILLEGAL migrant and CCP invasion, the specter of World War III, and the looming Magnetic Pole Reversal Global Cataclysm—I predicted it all. VAIDS (Vaccine Acquired Immunological Deficiency Syndrome) and even Dr. Fauci himself, all in my sights as early as 2014. Don’t believe it? See the complete, time-stamped, and documented evidence HERE. 

Additionally, I accurately predicted BOTH President Trump’s assassination attempt and that Joe Biden would not run again in 2024 for re-election in my “Merry Crisis and a Happy New Fear” 2024 post on 1/1/24. HERE

And that’s not all. My occult and remote influencing work played a pivotal role in the downfall of Jeffrey Epstein, the billionaire pedophile and human trafficker. This too is time-stamped and documented. Witness a true and authentic act of Solomonic conjuration from the Lesser Key, Ars Goetia. HERE. 

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