Level Up Your Vibration? 9 Conspiritualists Who Can Help
The Universe has been answering you. Nothing is coincidental. Be the change. Cash only.
Penis Feather: With a decade of experience under his big leather belt, and using only two primitive tools - organic hands and jojoba oil - you can relax into Penis Feather’s unchecked and entitled exploration of the issues you’ve stored in your tissues. Argues that trauma-informed care foiled a decent adductor-release. Searching for ladies who are 5D in spirit, double D in flesh. Absolute monster since learning the concept of “yes, and” during the one therapy session he ever had. Uses cologne containing jaguar pheromones. Was a decent guy until traumatized by two failed calf-implants and a divorce after only three months of marriage, when his wife discovered his collection of milk maid porn.
Soul Jelly: Soul Jelly’s ability to predict the future and read the past is as unnerving as the price tag. Past life regression shows she’s a direct descendent of Nostradamus, according to her. Encourages clients to do their own research on YouTube. Does not work with people with allergies to dander, as her home office is covered in cat hair. Consent form must be signed in saliva or blood. Spends many hours in her LazyBoy, face illuminated by blue light, twenty EMF ionizers a constant risk for electrical fire. Poor posture - shaped like one big C atop another, small c’s for feet. Sells bumper stickers at the farmer’s market that say, 5D, NOT 5G!
Guru Shiitake Jones: An exclusive, 2-hour individualized energetic treatment at a price tag that proves its worth. Includes alarming nutritional advice and endless bootstrap stories of personal recovery from a self-limiting childhood illness. 62 years old, four children under the age of six, has been to India multiple times to guide spiritual retreats with groups of all-female acolytes. Works arms but not legs at the gym. Uses a flip phone. Anti-woke wokeness. Turkish hair plugs attributed to castor oil and follicular invocations. A good reminder that masters are made, not born.
Candy Bum! A shimmering team of lashy 20-somethings that pamper with citrus peels, eyebrow lamination, and yoni steams after malign energy has been exorcized using sonic echolocation emitted from a crystal double-helixed EQ2 handheld wand that can also improve cellulite. Clients leave this salt-lamp sanctuary with dripping root chakras and mild chemical burns, profoundly broke. Does not accepted clientele who are vaxx’d; staff are young and female and want to remain fertile. Legumes not allowed on the premises. All secretly vape, binge gummy bears.
Sxx8: Synergy, fasting, sexual misconduct, and travel come together in this healing space of connection and manifestation. Beachfront retreats offered to those who complete the Five Levels of Consciousness and are hot according to a man with a bad mustache and garlic breath who is constantly yawning and adjusting his balls. It’s okay to crave authority! We all do! Break free from the scourge of feminist thought. We know your worth. Do you?
Shiva Laura Smith: Welcome, Goddesses! Private sessions of arhythmic ceremonial drum and insect guides. Office has framed picture of her at a traditional Fijian kava ceremony; unclear whether she was invited. Has been fined twice for breaking the eagle feather law….ridic. Wears bindi and blinks rapidly; aura so big it makes infants cry. Clientele mostly rich and exhausted moms looking to escape their children, husbands, calories. College roommate from freshman year Black, so not racist. Idolizes Gwyneth Paltrow, the full moon, and Brazilian Bum Bum Cream. Walks funny due to an almost-constant jade egg. Pelvic floor so strong it can peel carrots, red potatoes.
KimQi: Alternative thought leader. Pays starvation wages to staff, yet provides needed service to working class communities, so very busy. Absolute nidus of misinformation as well as a savvy entrepreneur who is “just asking questions.” When challenged, claims she feels unsafe. Targets vulnerable clientele who are lonely and desperate for connection, encouraging them to peddle garbage supplements. All profits flow to the top of a pyramid, where KimQi sits in lotus, manifesting wealth. Addicted to colonics and her ugly husband. Wears a wig when she drives her Corolla; saving money for a Cybertruck, which better matches who she is on the inside. Unlicensed ketamine therapist, just text her.
Mamasaurus: Blogger. Believes that boys will be boys, and those boys can be grain-free and vulnerable to polio. Paleo-muffin recipe gatekeeper, wild-eyed advocate of the gender binary, and assiduous monetizer of her social media presence, all the while managing a 3,000 square foot farmhouse and ten acres of land because her ex is a goddamn bonobo who couldn’t keep his blessed rod of life in his hemp boxers. Riddled with unspoken resentments since positivity is power. Amazon affiliate; biggest seller bespoke blend of flower essences that will attract wealthy men. Hypertensive, but only when exposed to NPR, septum-piercings, or photos of Hillary Clinton. Consumes over a cup of powdered collagen a day.
Reinhardt Weinerschlapp, PhD: Boomer. Obsessed with iridology, as well as the collapse of the nuclear family, which he attributes to women wearing shoes with rubber soles. Has published multiple essays on the madness of inoculation, though his own children are fully vaccinated, fool. Working on third book, When Science Killed Medicine. Offers thirty minute healing sessions for $500 - payments made at least a month in advance, no reimbursements no matter the circumstances, including sudden death. Prescribes nutraceuticals filled with cellulose and magnesium stearate, white-labeled, marked up 400 percent. Staunchly opposed to prescription medicine, though if homeopathy fails to clear the modern miasm of insisting variables such as race, sex, gender, and class can negatively affect health outcomes, will consider a two-week course of molly. Budding day trader with loads of capital to play around with. Blood boy in Finland, two in Japan, where he hides his second family.