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We love this sport. And everyone who is a part of it. 🫶🏻💚💚 Thank you for sharing your time, insight, even your own variety of opinions and knowledge.
We are grateful for every genuine connection to the community and world. Stay blessed 😇
We are grateful for every genuine connection to the community and world. Stay blessed 😇
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MPD named after @MitchellPolice of the @CityofMitchell bred by @BeanGeniePNW grown by @kingofmitchell the CEO of @BennettProduct
Moby Dick X TrainWreck= MPD 2026
Moby Dick X TrainWreck= MPD 2026
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Well, folks, welcome to another fantastical update from, well, the one and only, the mystical, the magical, the fantastical Mr. Cooper.
That’d be me.
I go by many names. I refuse to list them all because we’d be here until Wednesday. We got Bradley. We got Bradley Cooper. We got Cooper. We got Aaron. Dipshit. Dumbass. Felon. There are a lot of names I’ve answered to over the years.
But mostly, I go by Cooper.
That’s what people know me as.
I do love “Mr. Cooper,” though. It adds a little something to it. Or maybe not.
Anyways.
I don’t know what you know about me, and if you’re curious, go look around. I’ve put most of it on the internet because, quite frankly, I’m not really here to impress anybody.
If I were trying to impress people, I’d be doing impressive things.
Maybe I am.
Maybe I’m not.
I don’t know.
Because I don’t give a shit.
I’m not trying to impress you.
What I’m actually doing is documenting my reality.
My reality.
A man living on the prairie in South Dakota in the year 2026, talking to the internet, talking to computers, talking to himself, talking to the Creator, occasionally talking to people, and apparently talking way too much.
But someday, somebody might want to know what it was like to be alive right now.
Not the polished version.
Not the history-book version.
Not the version where everybody suddenly had everything figured out.
The real version.
The weird version.
The version where a guy sits down at 3:22 on a Tuesday afternoon and starts dictating whatever the hell is happening inside his head.
So here it is.
I don’t hide much. I don’t lie. And I damn sure don’t follow the leader.
I never really got into the whole red-pill, blue-pill thing anyway.
I swallowed most of the pills already.
That’s probably why I’m suspicious of pills.
There are still a few I haven’t tried, but if somebody shows up tomorrow with a pill, I’m probably going to need some additional information before I sign the waiver.
I’m kidding.
Mostly.
It’s Tuesday.
Or, as we like to call it around here, another episode of “What the Fuck Is Cooper Talking About?”
And somewhere in the strange wiring of my brain, there’s this leftover programming from years of being arrested, prosecuted, judged, labeled, and told what the rules were supposed to be.
Sometimes I think that shit gets ingrained.
Sometimes I think you have to actively replant the garden.
Pull out the old programming.
Plant something new.
Maybe there’s a magical mushroom somewhere in there.
Maybe there’s a code.
Maybe there’s an extended-apocalypse-for-spiritual-people app hiding on the internet that I accidentally downloaded while looking for something completely unrelated.
I don’t know.
I just know I’m a spiritual motherfucker.
I talk to God.
I call him the Creator.
And the best answer I’ve ever gotten is basically:
“You don’t have to listen to every fucking person who tells you who you’re supposed to be.”
Because they didn’t make you.
So...
Kaboom, motherfucker.
And no, I don’t have fancy papers hanging on my wall proving any of this.
I have papers.
I roll marijuana with some of them.
Then I smoke it.
Sometimes magical things happen.
Sometimes I stare at a computer screen for six hours and somehow end up talking to a square box like it’s a fucking portal to another dimension.
And sometimes shit like this comes out.
That’s the thing about magic.
You never really know what happens until you try it.
Maybe it’s not supposed to make sense.
Maybe it’s supposed to make dollars.
Although, judging by my business strategy, I might be a nonprofit pretending to be a profit.
I don’t know.
That might actually be the whole point.
Or maybe it’s Tuesday.
You know what?
It’s Tuesday.
3:22 p.m.
I’m doing whatever it is I do.
And if you got anything out of this, I hope it was a chuckle, a giggle, a little confusion, or maybe even one mildly useful thought.
Probably not a lot of factual knowledge in here.
I’m not a professor.
And if I were, I’d probably be Professor X.
Because apparently I’d be able to read your mind, your fears, your emotions, your feelings, and probably the browser history you desperately hoped nobody would ever see.
I know I sound crazy.
I probably look even crazier.
That’s okay.
Not everybody is supposed to understand everybody else.
And if I were a 5'8" guy with the face of a model, I’d probably be a model.
But I’m not. So I’m not. And that’s one of the reasons I do this. I’m documenting the weird shit.
The thoughts.
The failures.
The jokes.
The questions.
The mistakes.
The moments that make absolutely no sense until three years later when suddenly you realize they were connected the entire time.
Anyways.
That’s another episode.
Which is funny.
Someday I’ll tell you why I think that’s funny.
It probably won’t be on the internet.
Because that would make it another story.
And then there would be a someday.
And someday would have been today.
And then you’d understand.
Maybe.
Probably not.
Fuck it.
Post over.
I hope I see you when I see you.
Still don’t want to be you.
But honestly, that doesn’t make much sense either because we’re probably never going to physically see each other.
We’re on the internet.
Whatever the fuck that means.
Don’t even get me started.
Catch you when I catch you.
Or don’t.
You know how this works.
— Mr. Cooper
That’d be me.
I go by many names. I refuse to list them all because we’d be here until Wednesday. We got Bradley. We got Bradley Cooper. We got Cooper. We got Aaron. Dipshit. Dumbass. Felon. There are a lot of names I’ve answered to over the years.
But mostly, I go by Cooper.
That’s what people know me as.
I do love “Mr. Cooper,” though. It adds a little something to it. Or maybe not.
Anyways.
I don’t know what you know about me, and if you’re curious, go look around. I’ve put most of it on the internet because, quite frankly, I’m not really here to impress anybody.
If I were trying to impress people, I’d be doing impressive things.
Maybe I am.
Maybe I’m not.
I don’t know.
Because I don’t give a shit.
I’m not trying to impress you.
What I’m actually doing is documenting my reality.
My reality.
A man living on the prairie in South Dakota in the year 2026, talking to the internet, talking to computers, talking to himself, talking to the Creator, occasionally talking to people, and apparently talking way too much.
But someday, somebody might want to know what it was like to be alive right now.
Not the polished version.
Not the history-book version.
Not the version where everybody suddenly had everything figured out.
The real version.
The weird version.
The version where a guy sits down at 3:22 on a Tuesday afternoon and starts dictating whatever the hell is happening inside his head.
So here it is.
I don’t hide much. I don’t lie. And I damn sure don’t follow the leader.
I never really got into the whole red-pill, blue-pill thing anyway.
I swallowed most of the pills already.
That’s probably why I’m suspicious of pills.
There are still a few I haven’t tried, but if somebody shows up tomorrow with a pill, I’m probably going to need some additional information before I sign the waiver.
I’m kidding.
Mostly.
It’s Tuesday.
Or, as we like to call it around here, another episode of “What the Fuck Is Cooper Talking About?”
And somewhere in the strange wiring of my brain, there’s this leftover programming from years of being arrested, prosecuted, judged, labeled, and told what the rules were supposed to be.
Sometimes I think that shit gets ingrained.
Sometimes I think you have to actively replant the garden.
Pull out the old programming.
Plant something new.
Maybe there’s a magical mushroom somewhere in there.
Maybe there’s a code.
Maybe there’s an extended-apocalypse-for-spiritual-people app hiding on the internet that I accidentally downloaded while looking for something completely unrelated.
I don’t know.
I just know I’m a spiritual motherfucker.
I talk to God.
I call him the Creator.
And the best answer I’ve ever gotten is basically:
“You don’t have to listen to every fucking person who tells you who you’re supposed to be.”
Because they didn’t make you.
So...
Kaboom, motherfucker.
And no, I don’t have fancy papers hanging on my wall proving any of this.
I have papers.
I roll marijuana with some of them.
Then I smoke it.
Sometimes magical things happen.
Sometimes I stare at a computer screen for six hours and somehow end up talking to a square box like it’s a fucking portal to another dimension.
And sometimes shit like this comes out.
That’s the thing about magic.
You never really know what happens until you try it.
Maybe it’s not supposed to make sense.
Maybe it’s supposed to make dollars.
Although, judging by my business strategy, I might be a nonprofit pretending to be a profit.
I don’t know.
That might actually be the whole point.
Or maybe it’s Tuesday.
You know what?
It’s Tuesday.
3:22 p.m.
I’m doing whatever it is I do.
And if you got anything out of this, I hope it was a chuckle, a giggle, a little confusion, or maybe even one mildly useful thought.
Probably not a lot of factual knowledge in here.
I’m not a professor.
And if I were, I’d probably be Professor X.
Because apparently I’d be able to read your mind, your fears, your emotions, your feelings, and probably the browser history you desperately hoped nobody would ever see.
I know I sound crazy.
I probably look even crazier.
That’s okay.
Not everybody is supposed to understand everybody else.
And if I were a 5'8" guy with the face of a model, I’d probably be a model.
But I’m not. So I’m not. And that’s one of the reasons I do this. I’m documenting the weird shit.
The thoughts.
The failures.
The jokes.
The questions.
The mistakes.
The moments that make absolutely no sense until three years later when suddenly you realize they were connected the entire time.
Anyways.
That’s another episode.
Which is funny.
Someday I’ll tell you why I think that’s funny.
It probably won’t be on the internet.
Because that would make it another story.
And then there would be a someday.
And someday would have been today.
And then you’d understand.
Maybe.
Probably not.
Fuck it.
Post over.
I hope I see you when I see you.
Still don’t want to be you.
But honestly, that doesn’t make much sense either because we’re probably never going to physically see each other.
We’re on the internet.
Whatever the fuck that means.
Don’t even get me started.
Catch you when I catch you.
Or don’t.
You know how this works.
— Mr. Cooper
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Have you ever been lost in the mind of a stranger?
Not lost in a place. Not lost in a crowd.
Lost inside someone else’s thoughts, memories, fears, obsessions, mistakes, dreams, and the strange little corners of a human mind that nobody else gets to see.
Well... Want to be?
ok.
"LOST IN THE MIND OF A STRANGER"
A true story from somewhere between reality, insanity, survival, imagination, and whatever the hell happens when a person spends 44 years trying to figure out who they actually are.
You might find yourself somewhere in these pages. You might find someone you recognize. Or you might finally understand why some minds were never meant to be ordinary.
Coming soon.
Welcome to my mind.
Good luck finding the exit. 🧠
Not lost in a place. Not lost in a crowd.
Lost inside someone else’s thoughts, memories, fears, obsessions, mistakes, dreams, and the strange little corners of a human mind that nobody else gets to see.
Well... Want to be?
ok.
"LOST IN THE MIND OF A STRANGER"
A true story from somewhere between reality, insanity, survival, imagination, and whatever the hell happens when a person spends 44 years trying to figure out who they actually are.
You might find yourself somewhere in these pages. You might find someone you recognize. Or you might finally understand why some minds were never meant to be ordinary.
Coming soon.
Welcome to my mind.
Good luck finding the exit. 🧠
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Not on the Davison County felony court list this week. Funny how that works once they (@MitchellPolice) stop trying to arrest you for a plant.
Ain’t nobody taking it away from me ever again. Not a judge, not a cop, not a sheriff. The creator gave it to me.
Best I can tell the ’t matter. 😂
Ain’t nobody taking it away from me ever again. Not a judge, not a cop, not a sheriff. The creator gave it to me.
Best I can tell the ’t matter. 😂
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FOREVER DUMB
DUMB IS FUN
BENNETT PRODUCTION
Growing older is inevitable. Being boring is optional. 😂
DUMB IS FUN
BENNETT PRODUCTION
Growing older is inevitable. Being boring is optional. 😂
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I am lost in the mind of a stranger.
The strange part is, that stranger is me.
I've spent so much of my life trying to understand how I became the person looking back at me in the mirror. I've explored corners of my mind most people wouldn't want to visit, uncovered things I d somehow managed to become both the detective and the crime scene.
Some days I understand everything. Other days I couldn't explain myself to save my life.
I'm not looking for someone to tell me who I am. I'm trying to find the exit without losing the parts of me that made the journey worth taking.
Maybe I'm not broken. Maybe I'm just a complicated piece of unfinished work.
Either way, if anybody finds the exit, please leave a fucking sign.
Sincerely,
The stranger formerly known as me.
Lost in the Mind of a Stranger.
By Aaron B. Cooper.
The strange part is, that stranger is me.
I've spent so much of my life trying to understand how I became the person looking back at me in the mirror. I've explored corners of my mind most people wouldn't want to visit, uncovered things I d somehow managed to become both the detective and the crime scene.
Some days I understand everything. Other days I couldn't explain myself to save my life.
I'm not looking for someone to tell me who I am. I'm trying to find the exit without losing the parts of me that made the journey worth taking.
Maybe I'm not broken. Maybe I'm just a complicated piece of unfinished work.
Either way, if anybody finds the exit, please leave a fucking sign.
Sincerely,
The stranger formerly known as me.
Lost in the Mind of a Stranger.
By Aaron B. Cooper.
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I DON’T GIVE A FUCK WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT ME, AND I DON’T GIVE A DAMN WHAT YOU SAY EITHER.
Preliminary findings suggest it may originate somewhere within my LIFE EXPERIENCE, although further research and development is required.
The FEELING appears to produce several fascinating eased independence, reduced susceptibility to bullshit, an enhanced willingness to be yourself, and a near-total resistance to unsolicited opinions.
I am my own human.
I will think my own thoughts, make my own choices, create my own shit, and live my own life.
Further studies are pending.
Peer review is optional.
“Fuck around and find out” remains the current control group at Bennett Production.
Preliminary findings suggest it may originate somewhere within my LIFE EXPERIENCE, although further research and development is required.
The FEELING appears to produce several fascinating eased independence, reduced susceptibility to bullshit, an enhanced willingness to be yourself, and a near-total resistance to unsolicited opinions.
I am my own human.
I will think my own thoughts, make my own choices, create my own shit, and live my own life.
Further studies are pending.
Peer review is optional.
“Fuck around and find out” remains the current control group at Bennett Production.
0
0
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37
Bennett Production retweeted
Elon on SNL…mines better recreated entirely in Grok @imagine. 😂
Every frame of this video was made with @Grok.
And apparently there was a Grok @bot reset today.
Too bad I missed that reset. 😭
I’m still over here making weird shit with the version I’ve got.
Grok, @elonmusk m ready for the next round. 🚀
Every frame of this video was made with @Grok.
And apparently there was a Grok @bot reset today.
Too bad I missed that reset. 😭
I’m still over here making weird shit with the version I’ve got.
Grok, @elonmusk m ready for the next round. 🚀
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171
Elon on SNL…mines better recreated entirely in Grok @imagine. 😂
Every frame of this video was made with @Grok.
And apparently there was a Grok @bot reset today.
Too bad I missed that reset. 😭
I’m still over here making weird shit with the version I’ve got.
Grok, @elonmusk m ready for the next round. 🚀
Every frame of this video was made with @Grok.
And apparently there was a Grok @bot reset today.
Too bad I missed that reset. 😭
I’m still over here making weird shit with the version I’ve got.
Grok, @elonmusk m ready for the next round. 🚀
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Experience is not a substitute for science. But science should never ignore experience.
-Aaron B. Cooper-
-Aaron B. Cooper-
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Coming soon... Has weed ever really hurt me?
Aside from when you guys @MitchellPolice try to kill me over it. Cause best I can tell... No, it hasn't, but you did.
Aside from when you guys @MitchellPolice try to kill me over it. Cause best I can tell... No, it hasn't, but you did.
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