(🚨UPDATING🚨) Taboo: THEY MADE ME DO IT... A CRAZYTOWN SPECIAL EDITION... Say It With Your Chest: COULD JEBUS BE THE ANTI-CHRIST? THE GREAT DECEIVER?
STAY TUNED FOR NEW UPDATE COMNIG BEFORE DEC 25, 2025!!!
Here at Crazytown, we don’t deal in fluff, fiction, or feel-good fairy tales.
We deal in facts, historical records, spiritual receipts, ancient manuscripts, and metaphysical blueprints—some buried, some banned, all verified to the best of our divine ability. We speak on what’s been hidden, coded, twisted, and stolen. Our job? To expose, decode, and restore. This isn’t about sensationalism—it’s about liberation through knowledge.
And look—we get it.
Some of what we say might be shocking.
Some of it might challenge what your grandma, your preacher, or your 7th-grade history teacher told you.
But don’t confuse shock with disrespect.
Don’t confuse discomfort with offense.
And please don’t confuse conviction with attack.
If anything we say offends you, hear this with love: it’s personal.
That’s your soul tapping you on the shoulder, asking you to check your programming.
We’re not in the business of making you feel good—we’re in the business of waking you up.
And at the end of the day, our business is spreading the good word.
Not the trendy word. Not the pretty word. The true word.
We also understand:
Some of y’all will call us villains.
That’s cool. We’ve been called that since birth.
What’s a few more names on the list?
Just do us a favor—make us #1.
And come back anytime. We’ll still be here, holding the signal.
But here’s what we won’t do:
We won’t water down the message to spare egos.
We won’t sanitize the sacred just to make it palatable.
We’re not here to play gatekeeper or guru—we’re here to spark remembrance.
At the end of the day, this is our business:
To speak the good word.
To challenge the norm.
To honor the ancestors.
And to make sure the transmissions reach those who were meant to hear them.
Because for every stone cast, every side-eye glance, every triggered ego—we feel that energy. And to that, we say:
Thank you.
Thank you for the attention.
Thank you for the power.
Thank you for reminding us that the truth still disrupts.
Welcome to the broadcast.
Welcome to the mirror.
Welcome to Crazytown.
This is Bonafide Imawol E. Material, signing off this volume.
But trust—we’ll be back.
Join me as we unravel complex themes like cognitive dissonance and the hidden truths behind our beliefs. From DNA revelations to the spicy cultural roots of New Orleans, this episode is packed with insights that challenge the status quo. Buckle up and prepare for a wild ride through the depths of Crazytown! Don’t forget to like and share this video! #CrazytownChronicles #Truth #Neurodivergence #MythBusting #AncestralWisdom
Welcome to Crazytown.
No, seriously—Crazytown™ is real, and business is booming. You ever feel like the world has been run by a loosely organized improv group that drank too much kombucha and decided they were gods? Yeah—me too. But I’m not here to sling sass for entertainment's sake. I’m here to tell you what happens when neurodivergence, suppressed ancestry, and childhood myth-busting collide at the speed of light. You’ll want to buckle up, take notes, and probably light a candle. Because this ain’t just a story. This is a reckoning.
🚨 Breaking News: Crazytown Is About to Get Crazier
Let me not kid you.
Actually—I can’t kid you. I have autism. I’m biologically allergic to social lying. My brain’s firewall is too evolved to do the neurotypical “just kidding” thing. Ask my Earth mother—she knows. So when I say this has been brewing since the day I learned Santa wasn’t real, I mean it.
That was my origin story.
The moment the red-suited deception collapsed, my whole worldview imploded with it. “If you lied about Santa,” I asked with my perfectly timed side-eye, “what else are you lying about?” That one question—innocent to some—sent my neurodivergent mind into an eternal rabbit hole. A black hole of history, mythology, theology, ancestral memory, and unspoken family secrets.
We’re not just scratching the surface here. We’re going below sea level, into the deep, where truth is raw, wild, and very much alive.
🍴 Just a Tease: Like a Chef Before the Revelation
You know when a chef gives you a lil’ spoonful before the meal, just to wake up your tongue and confuse your soul? That’s what I’m doing right now. Just a taste. Because this meal I’m serving—this five-course cosmic entrée of ancestral insight, religious remixing, and identity reclamation—is going to hit different.
Here’s where it started.
I was minding my own frequency, dancing between timelines, when a family member casually mentioned that we had witches in the bloodline. Now, they said it like it was a quirky family anecdote—like we were talking about an aunt with too many cats.
But they didn’t know I’d already been in the occult.
Not dark, scary, goat-sacrificing occult. No. I’m talking about ancestral, knowing, eyes-wide-open, decode-the-universe occult. Tarot. Numerology. Pattern recognition so sharp it could cut through timelines. When I heard “witches,” something clicked—not in fear, but in recognition. Like my ancestors finally dropped the beat and I caught the rhythm.
🌍 The DNA Plot Twist: 11 Ethnicities, 11 Is a Master Number
Let me take you deeper.
My DNA test? That thing hit harder than a spiritual subpoena.
Eleven ethnicities.
Eleven.
That’s not just a number. That’s a master number in numerology. The number of intuition, insight, spiritual leadership, the truth-teller. While most people are out here fighting over one drop of royalty, I discovered a river of bloodlines that defied categories, borders, and boxes.
And the kicker?
My American ancestry anchored in New Orleans.
Let me repeat that. New. Orleans.
The land of hoodoo. Of second lines and unsilenced spirits. Of veils so thin, even time gets confused.
So when the updates started coming—dreams, synchronicities, songs, “coincidences”—I realized: I wasn’t digging up the past. I was being guided through it. And those ancestors? They were cheering like I just scored the winning touchdown at the Soul Bowl.
🙃 Jesus, Jebus, and the Family That Owes Me an Apology
Now let me pivot before I lose you. Let’s talk about the elephant in the pew.
I don’t say “Jebus.”
Not out of disrespect.
Out of precision.
Because when I called out the contradictions, when I dared to suggest—at Thanksgiving, no less—that maybe, just maybe, we’ve been praising the opposite of what we thought... the room got cold.
“But it starts with God!” they screamed.
Yes... but it ends with Jebus.
The remix. The plot twist. The marketing scheme of the millennia.
Now, I know someone’s clutching their pearls, ready to throw a communion wafer at me. But sit down, because this gets better.
You ever noticed how modern denominations act like franchises? Trinity here, Prophetic Worship there, Pastor Keisha’s Miracle Oil Emporium across town—like spiritual Walmarts competing for souls.
But I couldn’t buy it.
My mind—autistically exact—wasn’t having it.
The math wasn’t mathing.
And for calling it out, my family owes me an apology.
(Spoiler: I won’t get it.)
But the truth isn’t waiting on validation. It’s waiting on reclamation.
💣 Let’s Start With Cognitive Dissonance
So what does all this have to do with Crazytown™?
Everything.
Because the psychological glue holding these illusions together is something called cognitive dissonance—the mental war between what you were taught to believe and what your intuition knows to be true. Most people run from it. I dance with it. And I want you to join the waltz.
Cognitive dissonance is what makes folks scream “God is love!” while also threatening eternal damnation.
It’s what makes a family defend lies in the name of tradition.
It’s why people can watch injustice every day and call it “just the way things are.”
I’m calling BS.
Loudly. Softly. With velvet gloves and titanium fists.
I’m calling the lie what it is—a glitch in the system.
🧠 Tag Monie, This Is Getting Juicy
Somebody call Monie.
She needs to be tagged into this one. Because baby, I made a joke. A real one.
(Proof that my autism is high-functioning and high-frequency.)
So Monie—if you’re reading this—I got you, sis.
We’re going to unravel this thing together.
📣 Final Word (for now...)
This was just the intro.
The amuse-bouche. The appetizer of apocalypse.
What’s coming next will shake foundations.
We’re going to talk ancestral memory, divine deception, metaphysical colonization, and how autistic minds are often the first to see what everyone else is too afraid to admit.
Because the truth?
It ain’t hiding.
It’s encoded.
And Crazytown isn’t a destination.
It’s a frequency.
Stay tuned.
Stay open.
And stay sovereign.
From the eye of the storm,
Me. Empress...
Neurodivergent, ancestral truth-seeker, Crazytown resident, and unapologetically awake.
Say It With Your Chest: COULD JEBUS BE THE ANTI-CHRIST? THE GREAT DECEIVER?
—written by Bona~Imawol E.
So go ahead and pour that tea. And make it strong. Because what I’m about to say? Ain’t for the faint of heart or the church picnic crowd. This one’s a Crazytown Special Edition.
Let’s talk about Jebus. Not Jesus—Jebus. There’s a difference. And if that name alone got your neck hot or your palms sweaty, good. That means the programming is still running, still active, still controlling your spiritual algorithm.
⚠️ Download Complete: New Revelations Uploaded During the Full Moon
It all starts with this question: Why don’t I say “its” name?
Open the Bible—yeah, I said it. Crack open The Book—and take a real look. Page one of Genesis starts with “God.” Not a son. Not a trinity. Just God. Singular. Omnipotent. Unnamed. Undefined. Universal.
But by the time you get to the Book of Revelation? That’s a whole different beast. Literally. We’ve gone from the Most High to somebody riding in on a cloud with a new name, a new face, and a suspicious fan club. And now the name on everybody’s tongue is... Jebus.
🧠 Say It With Your Chest: Could the Bible Be a Book of Spells, Contracts, and Ritual Codes?
Do you really know what you're invoking every Sunday morning?
Have you ever stopped to question why you:
Clap on cue
Bow your head
Chant in unison
Anoint with oil
Wear ceremonial white
And give offerings of blood or bread?
Because make no mistake—you are participating in rituals. Ancient ones.
And most people have no idea what they’re truly doing.
You’ve been conditioned to say “Amen” at the end of every prayer, sermon, and ritual. But did you know “Amen” predates Christianity? It’s a ritual seal—a spiritual agreement.
A spoken “so be it.”
In magical terms, that’s a spell.
Now let’s go deeper.
You call the Bible “The Word of God.”
But have you ever read it not as a holy book—but as a book of spells, contracts, and blood-bound covenants?
Because that’s exactly what it reads like.
From Genesis to Revelation, it is filled with:
Sacrifices to appease divine forces
Blood covenants that bind generations
Spoken decrees that create reality
Warnings about breaking contracts sealed in spirit
Sound familiar? It should. That’s spellwork. That’s ritual law. That’s metaphysical legislation cloaked in religion.
So now the real question becomes:
Are you practicing faith… or unknowingly participating in high ritual magic?
Is your salvation based on belief—or are you under a long-standing spiritual contract that you never truly read before signing with your soul?
It’s time to stop playing church and start reading the fine print.
Because whether you call it a sermon, a service, or a spell—words have power.
And the Bible? That may be the most powerful book of magic ever written.
🍏 Let's Go Back to the Garden: Who Was Actually Helping?
You’ve been told the serpent was evil. That it tricked Eve. That it destroyed paradise.
But what if the serpent was actually…helping?
What if knowledge was never the enemy—but the key to breaking free?
Because after they ate the fruit, Adam and Eve didn’t die.
They got dressed.
They got conscious.
They woke up.
And in the language of ancient esoterica, that means they activated their divine self-awareness—the very thing the “god” of that garden didn’t want.
So let me ask again:
Who was the deceiver?
And why did the “Most High” punish enlightenment?
📜 From 1600s to 2025: How Jebus Got a Makeover
That came from Cesare Borgia, a European nobleman whose portrait was commissioned by Pope Alexander VI. It was painted and spread as the "face of Christ" during colonial expansion.
The name “Jesus” wasn’t even used until the 1600s—thank your King James for that remix.
Before that? It was Yeshua. Yehoshua. Some scholars argue it wasn’t even about a person but a title.
So, what does that mean for your praise and worship now?
Who are you really calling on?
And here’s the part no one wants to touch:
Today, the image has changed again. Somehow, now in 2025, Jebus is Black.
And still colonizing.
Still convincing.
Still commanding rituals in his name.
The deceiver doesn’t care what skin color you give him—as long as you give him your energy.
And it’s working.
🩸 “Flesh of My Flesh, Blood of My Blood”: Ritual by Another Name
You eat the body.
You drink the blood.
You chant in unison.
You seal the spell.
Tell me how that’s not a ritual.
Tell me how that’s not invoking something ancient, something darker than stained glass and white robes.
Tell me how that’s not blood magic in disguise.
We’ve sanitized it. Sanitized him.
But you didn’t question the fact that the God of Love in one breath is smiting whole cities in another.
That Jesus turned the other cheek but also flipped tables?
That he promised peace but said, “I came with a sword”?
That don’t sound confusing to you?
😈 Could Jebus Be the Anti-Christ?
It’s a system.
A spell.
A deception so deep that you defend it, worship it, bleed for it, and condemn others for questioning it.
So I ask you:
Could Jebus be the Great Deceiver?
The face they’ve painted over the truth?
The false savior introduced to keep you from recognizing your own divinity?
Because if the true Christ is within…
And Jebus demands you kneel without…
Then somebody is lying.
And you should be tired of being lied to.
Say it with your chest.
Don’t whisper truth to protect people’s comfort.
You came to wake up the gods, not entertain the sheep.
Because whether you’re ready or not—
We’re going to be here for a while.
And the tea?
Still ain’t hot enough.
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