#OregonTrail
Cult O Lard—a query into LardSpeak. #garbleBarble
Chapter 1: A Calling
WHO IS LARD?
I am an anti-capitalist-capitalist, financial alchemist, and sapiosexual salad brain
operating at the intersections of art, power, and myth.
My brand is absurdism.
My origin story: death.
I didn’t survive y’all’s apocalypse—my rise began from deeper depths.
I found the quantum crack in the war machine and slipped through.
Oddly enough,
I ended up in the men’s room.
And when I came to,
I was standing in a pool of piss.
It’s hard to aim when you’re born without a dick…
But I digress.
My point is, from the quantum muck—
the view is always obscure.
The spooky sandbox is a clown-cosm for sure.
That’s how I knew, my world was not upside down—y’all’s was.
I was growing from inverted roots.
In new boots,
in a direction opposite the norm—
Waiting for the sixth sun to rise and bring forth a higher tide of consciousness.
But during the ride—my dirt transmogrified.
My volcano spent—hell bent on collapsing into its own black hole.
I had no choice but to abort and turn my attention from introspection to resurrection,
to rebirthing as a canoe—
to avalanche into the anew…
That is… to become y’all’s humble cult leader.
And like a good little bird, vomit worms into the throats of the seeders.
For, who’s ready to awaken their third eye?
The time is nigh.
Open y’all’s mouths wide.
And I’ll feed you the manna from the cosmos.
Chapter 2:
WHY START A CULT?
Because I’m done.
And I know I’m not alone.
I saw a meme of Andrew Tate the other day, chilling with his best friends on a private jet. The caption read:
“Why marry when you can live your best life with your best bros?”
And for once, the internet said something true.
It gave me an epiphany:
Why submit to whatever when I can rewrite the program entirely?
Because unlike Tate, I’m not interested in collecting breeders.
I’m curating creative thinkers and intellects with a drive for something else—catalysts of their own stories.
More specifically, this is a rallying cry for individuals who are done with the sludge of modernity.
Not broke. Not broken. Just bored.
Too in-tune to keep pretending that we don’t want more.
So we’re going to build it.
Chapter 3:
WHAT IS PROJECT OREGON TRAIL?
(Great question)
It’s an autonomous network—a club, a code,
a cult—spread across timelines.
I’m about to jump through a threshold.
The question is: Will you?
It begins with me pulling an Alfredo Jaar and buffing out the Lardverse.
The volcano was only phase one of my master plan.
The time for adventure is now.
We are jumping through the black hole into the great unknown—in favor of the small-town expansion pack.
In layman’s terms:
I’m selling my house to raise the capital to become more mobile.
I’ve even picked out my 5th wheel.
Because the dream is an Oregon Trail with different outposts across the U.S.—
owned and operated by different members that we can drive to and from.
My prospective trailhead—a 300 acre self-regenerating installation—in Southern Colorado.
But I could be swayed. I have yet to visit and the Universe might relocate me to—I don’t know—let’s say Oklahoma.
I am hitting the road to find out.
But I will tease with this:
My forthcoming headquarters will not be an end—it’s a pit stop.
I am not your savior.
I lead by example—based on experience, strength, and hope.
What about you?
My intention is to create a safe haven for fellow nomads—
a physical gathering site for artist-philosophers, quantum readers, death walkers,
chaos heads, technomancers, environmentalists, gym bros, and you fill in the blank.
In the meantime, I’ll go where God takes me.
But know this:
If you’re part of my network, you’ll always have a place to land.
Just like Red from Blacklist, walking into a bar and vanishing through a tunnel behind a bathroom sink.
We are hiding in plain sight.
The Oregon Trail begins now.
Chapter 3.0:
THE ABSURD INCENTIVE
If you grant me a patch of land to anchor my black hole,
I’ll grant you something in return: a one-of-a-kind relic—from the unknown,
left behind as a marker.
So when guests tour the network, they aren’t just visiting properties—they’re following breadcrumbs.
Every stop tells a story.
Every landowner an extension of the lore.
It’s k[n]ot art. It’s evidence
of polyphonic vision.
Chapter 4:
WHO SKIPS THE LINE?
Creative capitalists: the audacious architects of the exchange.
Who dare to reimagine différance as opportunity, self-expression as value, and capital gains as alchemy.
The ones who trade not just in money, but in myth—who know that legacy outlives the ledger.
To be specific:
• Property/Land Proprietors — for nationwide sovereign and autonomous outposts. (RV park/hookups a plus)
Owned > Leased
• Gym Owners — we train anywhere, anytime. No excuses. Lifting = Life.
Independent > Franchise
• Chefs/Coffee Roasters — to power conversation and cultivate connection.
Farm > Fast
• People who live by example, not by idea — the only real qualification.
Walk > Talk
Chapter 5:
FINE PRINT
This cult is not for people with children.
If you’re raising a family, that’s cool.
But this network isn’t built for you.
This is for those who birth concepts and
move freely.
The lone wolves.
If you want in, you need to show me that you live how you think.
Don’t pitch me ideas.
Pitch me existence.
Show me your portfolio.
Chapter 6:
A FINAL NOTE
I’m not asking for a handout.
This is matched equality—not forced inclusion.
If I visit your gym, I’ll pay the membership.
If I eat at your restaurant, I’ll pay full price.
Money is not my problem.
Quality of connection is.
I want conversation.
Good lighting.
Strong espresso.
People with teeth.
So tell me:
Why should I invest in your town?
Why should your business be an outpost?
Why are you cult-worthy?
Let’s build the Oregon Trail together.
If you’re serious, cause I am, email me at lardlabsllc@gmail.com
with the subject TRAILHEAD, so I know you can pay attention.
Or
For the barnacles,
stalkME on YouTube @LardLabs
I just started a video diary.
ALL HAILZ LARD!
