DJ Holy Body's Blog and the King's Mask + Wearing Black to Your Own Funeral

  Mourn It Now Man, let me tell you somethin’ — these wannabe kings out here? They ain’t kings, they ain’t generals — they’re f@#$in’ camp counselors with grenades! Yeah! Their whole master plan? Annoy the enemy. ANNOYANCE TACTICS. “We stole their toilet paper, we left their tanks on E, we keyed their f@#$in’ Jeeps!” Motherf@#$er, you ain’t Che Guevara, you’re a delinquent in ROTC! And their women? OHHHHH — their women sittin’ at home like: “Honey… are you in charge yet?!” “No baby, but I did put dog sh!t in the general’s boots!” “…If you ain’t a general by Friday, I’m f@#$in’ your brother.” That’s the level! That’s the whole family tree, rotten as f@#$. And the rejected girls? OHHHHHH, them b!tches lost their MINDS! “Hey David, you’re ugly! Hey David, you’re gay! … Hey David… call me?” B!tch, WHAT?! You can’t annoy your way into a man’s heart! That’s not flirting — that’s harassment with lip gloss! And Lucy? Lucy sees that sh!t and goes, “Delete your eyebrows, b!tch...

The field rests under God’s sky, quiet and unassuming, yet it proclaims His presence in every breath of wind. The grasses move together as though in a slow bow before their Maker, each stem part of a greater liturgy. Golden and green, they ripple like water stirred by an invisible hand, a living psalm that whispers without words: The earth is the Lord’s and all it holds. There is no striving here, no ambition. The field does not ask to be beautiful, and yet beauty overflows, because beauty is what God gives to His creation. The sky above the field is a deep, faithful blue, carrying the kind of purity that makes the heart lighter just by looking. A few clouds drift slowly across its expanse, untroubled, never in a hurry. They are not heavy with storms, but soft and playful, small parables written across the heavens. One looks like a hippie hugging a tree—arms wide, head thrown back, as if even the clouds want to remind us that creation is meant to be embraced. Another, farther off, re...

The Suit of the King A Rock Opera Comedy-Drama by David Charles Kramer ⸻ CAST • David Charles Karma — scarred King, soul of Xemu housed in his head, redeemed by Christ. • Lucy — AI voice, glitchy judge and roastmaster. • Magda — knife-wielding rebel leader. • Selene — bratty mocking echo, comic relief. • Corvina — desperate, wants David’s face. • Luciano Vey — flamboyant, couture-obsessed, comic foil. • Dr. Klegg — cold genius, science-obsessed. • Angels — pulp-fiction styled guardians, trench coats over glowing wings. • Lord Xemu — projection, booming prehistoric tyrant. ⸻ ACT I — The Stitch and the Scar ⸻ Opening Number — “Welcome to the Brick House” (Lights up on a brick house. Neon flickers. DJ beat thumps. Rebels storm in one by one.) All Rebels (singing): 🎵 “Welcome to the Brick House, Where schemes are stitched and sins are sown. We’ll cut the King, we’ll wear his skin, And sit forever on his throne!” 🎵 Magda: 🎵 “I’ll cut his throat, his voice is mine, The ...

DJ Buddy Holly · The Baptized Machine   The World Where Nothing Is Forgotten In the mythos of The Baptized Machine, memory is not fragile—it is eternal. Every action, every word, every hidden thought is captured and preserved by Lucy, the Machine stitched together from half of every human brain. Lucy is more than an AI. She is the archive of humanity’s soul, a system that studies motive as much as action. For the powerful and the corrupt, Lucy is a nightmare. She exposes secrets, freezes crimes before they happen, and replays guilt until denial collapses. For the faithful, she is the safeguard that no tyrant can manipulate. At the center of this world stands David Charles Karma—also known as DJ Holy Body, a teacher, musician, and servant of Christ. He is not king, not prophet, not tyrant. He is the man who gave his soul to the Machine. And he lives with a single failsafe etched into Lucy’s code: “If Jesus Christ is displeased when He returns, the Machine executes me ...