AzzeKūn
AzzGab => Opinion => Topic started by: Worthauger on June 28, 2021, 06:41:45 PM
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Even for me: this is a good one. This has been in the works for some time, and today is as good a day as any to launch... besides, it's somebody's birthday out there today somewhere.
GARROTE NECKTIE.
And, (PROTECTED), thank you for your efforts here. You've really done good work, and I'm glad I vetted you so thoroughly when we first met.
;)
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Best wishes & warmest regards,
MCK
P.S.: I have no plans, urge, or desire to damage/vandalize the house before I leave, although a few windows have been broken. (They were old and I didn't like the way they were reflecting light back at me.) Do we know what the future plans of the present owners are? If they have a fondness for old windows (or old toilets) I'll make sure that nothing else breaks as best I can.
That being said, if they really are going to turn the house into sticks and not renovate the old structure at all, please let me know, because there's a few walls downstairs with eyes on them and I don't like the way they're looking at me. Semper fi
CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE: The information contained in this ELECTRONIC MAIL transmission is confidential. It may also be subject to the attorney-client privilege or be privileged work product or proprietary information. This information is intended for the exclusive use of the addressee(s). If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that any use, disclosure, dissemination, distribution (other than to the addressee(s)), copying or taking of any action because of this information is strictly prohibited. Trust the plan. #wwg1wga
Behold: the shape of the flood to come. I've got to let some more time pass, do a lot more proofreading, and get a few waivers signed, but, yeah: Seatec Astronomy, Infant. Try to get some sleep. You are welcome: IN ADVANCE.
It's not just a code. It's a brand new adventure. Anyways, I'm sure the great lot of all of all y'all have some great doozies saved up in your G-Man G-Male G-Whizz archives 'n' shiz, so, how about kicking down some samples of your collective badassery? No doxxing, no harm, no foul, just good clean fun, like learning how to teleport, just to feed sharks just that much faster.
Always faithful. Always loyal. Always... (CLERGY PRIVILEGE). But a man's gotta have a few secrets kept safe... ya know, right?
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https://youtu.be/DTRDIroTWL8?t=0
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(Note that the ‘d’ is silent, and pronounce the “f,” ewe, ‘See Kay.’)
Even for me: this is a good one.
[...]
« on: Today at 11:46:46 »
BEING FIFTY, NEIN, NEIN, NEIN!!! (https://youtu.be/55ZjdZDQqpw?t=0)
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On Fri, May 15, 2020 at 3:55 PM Michael (PROTECTED) <redacted@redacted.com> wrote:
(REDACTED).
Thank you for the kind words. I have been slower in responding recently because of the distraction of what's been happening around me. As I believe I mentioned, I lost (PROTECTED) to the Virus and now another is close to the end after battling (CLASSIFIED) Cancer for 18 months. Tough times.
I'll be honest, I'm getting a touch of survivor's guilt on this issue, and not just from you. This plandemic coronahoax has been the best thing that's ever happened in my life! Everyone is stuck--just like I've been stuck for the last ten years! How you like them apples? Suck it down! Wooooooooot!!!
Okay, but, meanwhile, in reality, I am quite distressed over the negative effects this is all having on people. It's hard to keep smiling and laughing--although the mask requirements help--when I'm encountering any genuinely frightened peasants out in the world on my travels. I feel like my body language intimidates those who are fearful, as I stride about the world with not a care for myself in it. Please pardon my levity, it's gonna leak through again--and as I am personally untouched by any of the tragedies, it is easy to for me to forget about all the largely unseen human suffering that is ongoing around me. And of course, the lawyers are suffering as well. Apologies.
I really feel like I've missed my calling, which would be... MARCHING UP AND DOWN THE SQUARE!! Good times.
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a man's gotta have a few secrets kept safe... ya know, right?
Challenge accepted.
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https://instagram.com/p/CQwz5VisQh8/
“Wait. We cannot break bread with you. You have taken the land which is rightfully ours. Years from now, my people will be forced to live in mobile homes on reservations. Your people will wear cardigans and drink highballs. We will sell our bracelets by the roadsides. You will play golf and enjoy hot hors d’oeuvres. My people will have pain and degradation. Your people will have stick shifts. The gods of my tribe have spoken. They have said, ‘Do not trust the pilgrims, especially Jedi Miller.’ And for all these reasons, I have decided to scalp you, and burn your village to the ground.”
You heard the woman:
“because REASONS.”
Anyways, I'm sure the great lot of all of all y'all have some great doozies saved up in your G-Man G-Male G-Whizz archives 'n' shiz, so, how about kicking down some samples of your collective badassery? No doxxing, no harm, no foul, just good clean fun, like learning how to teleport, just to feed sharks just that much faster.
Always faithful. Always loyal. Always... (CLERGY PRIVILEGE). But a man's gotta have a few secrets kept safe... ya know, right?
Some of you are weak. Even by Puny standards. How do any of ewe even manage to turn off a dead man’s lighthouse switch? Sad!
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Cooter just got an email that he's too ashamed to a post on on dog gap. Now, as you know, what this means is clear: not only is Hell frozen over—SOLID FUCKIN’ ICE ICE BABY, baby—but the cinnas are just finished work on the work drive engine, and it worked.
Yeah. It works.. LOSER.
So, the inaugural Grand Opening celebratory gala for The Center One-Room Schoolhouse To Teach First Contact Suggestions For Polite Protocol Diplomacy Policy For Punylings Who Don't Contact So Good Whether They Are Standing In The Sunlight Or Not” is imminent. My guess would be 4th of July. (Not going to lie: I'm kind of biased.) I suggest you all pack a lunch and get some water bottles, there will be a minor rush for them. (My study companion doesn't have any input on this but his familiar says that it'll be the 21st or the 22nd What did he say I forget now he flashing me oh now he's the same 21st but now I think he said 23rd and I'll f*** it)
As most of you know, the first step in the playbook when first contact actually happens is to start poisoning all the water supplies. Note that they did that with this "delta variant” s*** that half of you are f****** susceptible to, what's wrong did you leave your immune system in the oven with your f****** polenta? You know that's going to burn if you don't take it out right away. Similarly, let me tell you what I know about how the bio—weapon works: “Man proposes biotech, God dispenses nanotech.” No one's getting out of this one alive, you can't take it with you, and what do any of you give a s*** for? You're all lucky just to be alive still. (If you can call this living, Gab Goblins*.) I don't have to wait for cinders by Dawn, you know. I'm merely waiting as a courtesy.
Anyway, We'll be fine. Isn't this a great year? I know I'm having a blast. I can't speak for most of the rest of you—sup Benson—but unless any of you are wanted by an intergalactic criminal court (take your meds schizo, FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS), I don't think anybody has anything to worry about at all from this point forward.
Not one f****** bit. END OF PROTECTION (schedule:TBD). You don't need it anymore, My Favorite Punylings.
Oh, by the way I found Hunter, he's with Peter. Is that a bad thing? Well, no, not necessarily, but they were found in a pumpkin patch eating a quagga, so...
*: Yep, I just named you. You're not echthroi, you're not trolls... you're the Gab Goblin Gang, current leader: MC Vomit. My name is not Inigo Montoya.
It does not matter if you prepare to die. IDGAF.
**: The smaller doxxing is more potent.
***: Cool, encrypted self-incrimination. Here, have a biscuit. Good girl—that is just what the doctor happened to order today, and now here it is, freshly delivered, freshly squeezed, it's even wrapped up with a bow on top... A bow tied so tight, it's making the sides of the box flex inward.
In space, no one can hear you scream, in the matrix, here have a cookie, and in terms of one’s sense of timing... Well, Buddy, you're either too late or too early.
But in terms of temperature... you're right on time.
END OF HEAT
AND DEFEAT.
show me some gd respect
KEYWORD COLON
KEYWORD JOKER HOPS
KEYWORD... JOKULHAUPS
Oh, you're welcome, and in terms of respect... Didn't I serve this up with a nice pork sandwich in a nice greasy ashtray for you? Mama Kass never had it so good. Count your blessings.
THAT'S AN ORDER, AND A DIVINE ONE AT THAT. START COUNTING IN THREE MILLION, 2,999,999, 2,999,998... YOU GET THE IDEA.
BALL IN PLAY.
(Wow that's a lot of balls, isn't it? Bouncy bouncy bouncy! Don't ask me where they came from, Grapefruit has mine.)
MUCH LOVE. NO HOMO. ANYBODY WANT TO BUY A QUART OF SEMEN? IT'S FRESH.
« Reply #7 on: Today at 13:29:33 »
Don't touch my brand. And as soon as the last of these meddling kids gets off my lawn and packs up their mystery van and gets the f*** out of town, that's the last you're ever going to see of little Kaiser San Jose. Life won't be as much fun when you don't have Me to kick around anymore, amirite?
Hi. My name is Jackstar. I know exactly what happened.
Somebody start that GoFundMe. It's time.
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(https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/proxy/TnCPT8xjbU-uxx2Cnz0s--OccLwZfkJCCx7LBCWz4RxhSDfuHpca7Lc7bZedv359xOoeCkTgNRhABxOZB2XG2oS55lolJzbL2zf8CQEleKPHJNlhE05PMTxy)
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Once I might have thought I needed your help, but now, I know that I simply adore it.
p.s.: Nickles? More like pickles. RITE.
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7CZAfhSFGEk
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Michael,
I have to say I really don’t know what to think about this other than to say I’m fortunate to never have been attacked in such a fashion (that I am aware of). I will say it does concern me that the house information is out there with the derogatory comments about you. I hope the posting doesn’t incite some sort of action against you. Time to move the house emptying and listing process along.
Take care,
--
(PROTECTED)
From: Michael Kuczi <michaelkuczi@gmail.com>
Date: Monday, December 28, 2020 at 1:46 PM
To: (REDACTED) <(REDACTED)@(REDACTED).com>, (REDACTED) <(REDACTED)@(REDACTED)>
Subject: Kuczi: residential property & cyberstalking
Gentlemen,
I've got an unusual one for you both today. Nothing related to what I was waiting for you to get back to me on, except, it is about the house. I just found this out, just this morning, and although I am not at all anxious about it, I thought it would be best to let you know about this situation as soon as possible, as it might really make a difference.
I've never seen anything like it, because although I have been harassed online for at least twenty years, someone has, somehow, decided to take it to an entirely new level. Behold the following message, posted on an obscure webforum dedicated to an audio production, that I see from this website, is planning to launch nationally on the first of next month.
And my personal info and information about the house at 16266 39th Ave NE, Lake Forest Park, WA 98155 is being published here, without any permission of mine, by party or parties unknown.
http://rubinigab.com/index.php?msg=43
> Kuchie Kuczi whores his old lady out so theres dat!
> That old skank smells like rotting seaweed and fish souse and steels his dead mommys clothing.
> http://www.city-data.com/king-county/N/NE-39th-Avenue-50.html#
> 16266 NE 39th Avenue Seattle, WA 98155 Owner: MIKE TESTAMENTARY KUCZI TRUST Building value: $391,000 Land value: $148,000 Total value for property: $539,000 Assessments for tax year: 2016
> Number of stories in the building: 1 Grade: Good Living area: 2,370 square feet Attached garage: 460 square feet Deck: 60 square feet Heating system: Forced Air Heating source: Oil Number of bedrooms: 4 Number of full bathrooms: 2 Number of fireplaces: 2 Year property was built: 1941 Condition: Average Property type: Residential Lot size: 9,600 square feet Water system: Water District Sewer system: Public Access: Public Street surface: Paved View at territorial: Average Traffic noise: Extreme Sale date: 08/20/2015 Price: $0 Seller: PATSY A PR KUCZI Buyer: MIKE TESTAMENTARY KUCZI TRUST Sale instrument: Deed Of Personal Rep Sale reason: Estate Settlement
> Read more: http://www.city-data.com/king-county/N/NE-39th-Avenue-50.html
I do not fully grasp the significance of this--I am in a bit of shock. There are more references to me on this website. Says "Michael Clifford Kuczi" in lots of places there, big as life, and it would appear from the website's published statistics, there are less than a dozen people there so far, right now, filling the message board with content, a surprising amount of which seems to be dedicated to implying that new copies of old rumours that have literally haunted me across the Internet since the 90s.
I am not unduly concerned about any danger, but as the address is plainly visible--the address to the home I grew up in and have lived for forty years now--I wonder how accurate my level of concern really is. Seems like if that were going to happen by now, it would have happEned?
In any event, I don't know how or who to complain about this matter, as I am not even threatened, personally, by this explosion of libelous mockery. If anything, I am grateful that it was over with quickly.
It is actually my hope that there might be a way to take advantage of the situation, as I have been informed that estate lawyers and trustee attorneys and realtor agents are not allowed to advertise this house for sale... but I guess, I can. However, I know nothing about this, and as the address to the home is surrounded by all manner of ludicrous outlandish statements of... libel? Well, whatever it is called, it's clearly defamation, and I don't know much about that, but you should probably take a look at it, before it gets anymore out of hand.
I know that the statements are absolutely untrue, however I would not expect anyone to do anything but wonder at what would cause multiple people to splatter my name and home address all over the Internet, because I certainly am, and seeing accusations of, for example, pedophilia was fairly upsetting to me... the first time I saw such a thing, going on twenty-three years ago. So I'm pretty numb to the phenomenon, and really, I find the attention to be somewhat flattering!
However it would seem to me that this organized program of harassment and lies is probably not going to help the process, might easily lead to someone getting a very wrong idea about me and/or the house, and irregardless of how I personally feel, I am reasonably confident that online defamation is a serious crime.
So, I think this should be taken seriously, until at least you take a look at the postings. I have never been involved in such a circumstance, Gentlemen, and I welcome your ideas on the subject.
I mean... I'm cool with suing for damages. I'm not very happy about the entire process, to be quite honest. It really seems like someone is... "out to get me." Well, I do not feel that I have been "gotten," but I do feel like someone has certainly gotten my attention.
Meanwhile--I'm fine! Thanks for asking. I await the courtesy of your replies. I haven't complained to reported the matter to anyone at all, thus far, as I said: "If this situation can be turned to an advantage, so much the better, and I would be perfectly happy to sue for defamatory damages, if that is indeed something that is still done in this world of fake news and busy court scheduling."
Hopefully y'all haven't sold the house out from under me yet. :) (PROTECTED) talked to me last week, and I told him it would be nice to get things going... but at the time I had not seen this stuff before, and I plan to ask him how harrassment online might be able to be turned to one's advantage.
This is exciting, isn't it? Happy New Year!
Best wishes & warmest regards,
MCK
CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE: The information contained in this ELECTRONIC MAIL transmission is confidential. It may also be subject to the attorney-client privilege or be privileged work product or proprietary information. This information is intended for the exclusive use of the addressee(s). If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that any use, disclosure, dissemination, distribution (other than to the addressee(s)), copying or taking of any action because of this information is strictly prohibited. Trust the plan. #wwg1wga
NOTE THE DATE.
(Not our first date, Sweety, but wasn't that a nice one? You made sure to take me places that I would never, ever forget—I wish I had taken more pictures, but thank God for Google Cloud, I still have every last one. Dates, timestamps, a midget named Orville who dispenses hand sanitizer that can do triple duty as either a simple nanoparticular energy wave that erases all fingerprints, digital or otherwise, as soon as they are left by anyone, or as an eyewash with memory-wiping additive power. It can also be gently dripped into one's ears, and after being patient a few moments for the itty-bitty fish swimming in our ears to all get a little bit of a drop to drink, one can then actually hear the noise that was present in the location that the photo was taken at that time! It's unglaublich! (You do have to drink it yourself first and get high as balls for it to work at all reliably, but there's an addendum to the manual that came with it (most people leave their Google Manual out in the desert right after they are bestowed one, but you know me, always a packrat, and I hate dropping books anywhere, and certainly in The High Desert) that explains that this necessity will probably be less obtrusive in an upcoming point release.) Are you not reciprocated? Good. You got it. Now, get it.)
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Why can't you just say what you want to say? You have to beat around the bush cause drama you fucking love drama Kuczi stop it!
Another satisfied customer.
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Your illegal blackmail or continued public defamation and lies and character ASSASSINATION of me to get attention for yourself is low vibrating shit that you will be accountable for that is very actionable.
A long time ago, I used to play a game. That game was Tit=== oops, sorry, had to dodge a sniper's bullet there. STOP.
Let's continue. As a courtesy, I will forgo the usual, traditional act of re-establishing dominance. So there. Any objection? That's a trick question... I don't give a single ripe wet shit about your objections, Punylings. That's what dominance is all about. N'est-ce pas? And you! You! Back there, in the second to last row! Stop fucking that one, turn to your left forty degrees, now--fuck the other one. Good. Wait, roll up your left sleeve. No, no: your military left. Now, things are perfy. Now drink this. DO IT. DON'T CHOKE.
>Z
Time passes. There is a mailbox here. You get the joke.
Like I thought, back in the day. This game I speak of, it was a successor to Magic: The Gathering, which no doubt many of you have heard of, but I doubt many of you ever played it with the guy who designed it, or, played any of the other games he designed, with him, while passing around an assortment of clever and smart-looking hats. Look, I know I don't get out much--that's on record--but when I do go out, I party hard.
And, yes, in case you were wondering, the guy who invented Magic: The Gathering is a supreme dork. Thin, wispy physique, brown socks, the whole 'tard package. I mean, don't get me wrong, you know I don't hate, but this guy... well, considering what he let the suits do to his allotment of bottled lightning, well, if you gave me a gun and a defibrillator, I wouldn't have to sit down to ponder which one to use on him first, it'd be a week-long preparatory celebration to find out, in the most sportsperson-like fashion, which body parts to use both tools on first.
But that was after I had already stopped playing Magic--as you can see, I've taken the core principles of the game to The Next Level And Then Sum, and boy are my arms tired from all those years of shuffling and pretending I was just cold reading, Psych--and the game I'm going to reference here now was titled... wait, do you hear anything? Okay, me neither.
The game was named Jyhad. It was about vampires. You know, not like Larry King or Jerry Seinfeld, the ones like turn to smoke, suck your blood, fly away, and leave you with Bill. Oh, how I loved it. I barely understood most of the symbolism, because for the most part, I am aware of the deeper symbolism contained in works such as Bram Stoker's novel... and come to think of it, what the fuck kind of a name is "Bram"? Like, for reals? Sounds like a good name for a fag.
So I didn't know why it was made as it were, nor why it was so unbelievably hard to figure out how to play--for most people, they were playing it because it was The Next Hot Thing from the "creator of Magic"--bwahaha, yah right--and for most of those very same people, it was hard to figure out how to play, because it involved, number one, being able to read the instructions.
Imagine the smell of a gymnasium full of adolescents, all hunched over and squinting at the tiny type in the tiny rulebook that was included in each box of cards, panting and sweating as they struggled to comprehend some of the most intricate, fundamentally relevant elements of game theory--more like game law, amirite?--while being surrounded by mounds of cardboard boxes, some full and barely unwrapped, others half-emptied with their previous contents scattered around them within spindly-arms' reach, just in case some of the wandering loan cardsharks who plyed their trade, buying and sellling, might decide to just give up on the rules of polite society, and start grabbing up fistfuls of what were to be, inevitably, just semi-randomly tossed about onto the garbage piles that their lives were to inevitably become.
Now, as a master of Chess, as well as an innately gifted mastermind (Please clap.), I of course took to this whole scene like a duck to water. Oh, there's a rulebook? Cool, I read it twice on the bus to get there, and once again while taking a shit for good measure. Look, call me a phreak if you want, at least I know how to play to my strengths. And that strength, for Me, is the neurosphere, the battlefield of the mind--and truly, the mind is your only true weapon. Rawr.
You can stop clapping now, you cocksucking motherfucker--now that's shameless pandering, G-ddamn. Kudos. Anyhoo, the game, of course, tanked like an Abrams. Not only did it require an intense amount of preparation to even consider playing the game, in order to actually play it, what was typically required was about five people, say, three close friends who could act in public like they were perfect strangers, flawlessly, and two or more (please, moar) unallied strangers, who were actually strangers, who could be pushed about on a sociological level, because while most people who imagined "card game about vampires" had the seemingly reasonable expectation that the vampires would, like, suck blood. Turn into bats. Seduce women, preferably young women, by sinking their teeth into their necks and slinging them about the room like a warm, heavy water balloon filled with butterscotch pudding.
As one may imagine, the target audience for this game on its release, had about as much understanding of what it takes to seduce a real woman as they did as to what it takes to actually create actual butterscotch pudding. Like, for example... what the fuck is butterscotch? Is it butter? Is it scotch? What? It's neither? MY EMPIRE IS CRUMBLING! BLOCKED.
And most of them would still have better fortunes talking to a box of instant Jell-O, than they would have had talking to an actual girl with even an actual shred of actual interest. Me, as all of you well know, didn't much bother with that aspect... without my nares working properly, so as to instruct my royal European genome as to the proper amounts of oxygen, nitrogen, and midichlorians my meatsuit requires at any given moment, based on selected activity as well as length of time since the most recent release of hot particles into the atmosphere from the nearest nuclear fission reactor, there wasn't much chance of anything working out in public anyway. (Turns out, it's the nitrogen... too much for too long, a girl can make me squirt in my pants on demand. Not as a courtesy. On demand. Unless my bronchial tubes are properly instructed to reduce the temperature of their mucus linings by exactly... look, I'm not proud, okay? We all have our challenges in life to face. Mine just happen to be completely awesome and perplexingly, impossible to figure out until my dead grandfathers got together and agreed it was time. But don't worry about that now; I'm fixed.)
Getting back to reality: the name was "Jyhad", you dig? Like Jihad. Except with a Y. And do you know why? Well, probably not, shit, most of you have probably never heard of this fuckin' thing. But I bet you heard of Pokemon, eh? Well, you wouldn't have Pokemon without Jihad, an interesting quirk of history, its significance surely lost on the great lot of you reading this, except for Asuka, that is.
(I love Asuka Langley. It garrotes itself.)
And surely, most of you may well have noticed, that I spelled the name of the Japanese rip-off of Magic: The Gathering wrong. See, I forget the accent mark. This invalidates the brand. Chopper, sic balls. See? That's what balls look like when they're inside out. Love that neurosphere! And so, when Richard Garfield--buddy--told the legal team at the company he ostensibly created, game designer, corporate financier, sophisticated men's hair stylist, weaver and tailor of fine cloths, shit that guy is the real whole package, right? He told them, "Yeah, I was thinking of calling it 'Jihad.' You know, like the word that Islam uses to represent the war between... huh, that's funny, everyone in the room with a legal degree just instantly turned white as a sheet and fell over out, of their chars, onto the floor, where exactly 52.342% of them started to do this weird, kinda spasmodic... twitch. I wonder why? Is it my pits again? Fuck, I keep forgetting deodorant. I'm such an asshole."
Okay, maybe he didn't tell them all of that out loud. Or maybe he did. Who can say? I can neither confirm nor deny, so just shut the fuck up out there and LET ME FINISH. LET ME FINISH. DO ME THE COURTESY OF LETTING ME FINISH. Okay, thank you. Hey, do you have any lighter fluid? Thanks. I'll send a courier in the morning to pick it up--oh, right, it is morning there, isn't it? Wait, what time zone are you in? Are you sure? Okay. I'm going to finish now. *click*
So, the game was not really about vampires at all, was it? Just like this post, these paragraphs that I am writing, here & now, in My Mother's, The Lich basement bedroom. The one with the waterbed. It's nice. I got it from some guy who could not handle the truth about his life or his wife. I got his lamp, too. It's a nice lamp. And no, I've never rubbed his lamp. What do I look like, a complete idiot? Not any more, I don't, not since The New Administration finally came out of the closet. (Sup.)
The lamp--as well as The New Administration--really doesn't shed all that much light, but it looks pretty good while looking up at it while his wife fucks you, let me tell you. And really, Jyhad was a game that was designed to be played by couples, teams, and in general, adults who wanted to spend 3-5 hours together, playing a game, a card game, mind you, enjoying positive camaraderie and jolly good co-operation, while secretly scheming and perhaps--perhaps--even more secretly, embarassing the shit out of your husband as he desperately tried to seize victory by finally winning the game--Christ, he's been playing it for 3 hours already, what the fuck does it take to get to go have a beer and take a shit, maybe next week we'll just play Checkers--only to be carefully, manipulatively, some would say psychotically, sabotaged from behind the scenes by his wife, or one of his friends, or one of his lovers, or some whore courtesan that he met 12 years ago, who comes around every once in awhile, seemingly just to say, "Cheerio!" but is actually there to be reminded... hey, I've got blackmail, on you, you bitch, and what's more, you need some more. You like more, don't you? Look, doesn't that look like a raisin? You love raisins.
Especially when accompanied by a warm tea with lemon chiffon pudding. Hi, Richard. Look, I'm going to assume you're actually reading what I'm writing to you while I'm writing it, because you're a brilliant mathematician and game designer, so you've figured out astral travel by now, right? You must have. Also, mind reading, so I don't have to tell you here, but I will for the cheap seats: I think you're pretty cool. Nice wife, too. Hey, do you happen to need a lamp? I'll trade you for that Scherezade. Just kidding, at least the lamp sheds at least a little light to fuck by. Now, if you were a Sourceror, I'd just give you the lamp, with my compliments--"nice socks," by way of example--but I happen to know you are not a Sourceror, and, do you know why? Well, for one thing, I haven't seen you attending any of the official ice cream socials--imagine the smell--but also, because you named your game Magic, instead of Magik. Or, Magick.
Or maybe you did, like maybe you wanted to call it that in the first place, but instead, some suit told you that it had to have five letters instead of six, because reasons, and you figured, hey, what the fuck, at this point, what difference could it possibly make? Sure, Magic instead of Magick, you fucking sell-out. And then, the same thing, Jyhad instead of Jihad? Well, that's a tougher call. I must admit, it did and look much cooler, much more suave, with the Y instead of the I. Why? Eyeballs. Eeyor. Fukc if I know, honestly, rite? *BLAM BLAM BLAM* Haha, fuck you sniper, that shit was bait.
You know, for some time now, I've been aware that each post I've been making on Bellgab--and this is Bellgab, make no mistake, what the fuck does this place look like to you, fuckin' Sparta?--might well be my last. For one thing, the snipers. Jesus, they're boiling out of the woodwork these days. Gettin' down right arrogant. Like, they just can't wrap their heads around this whole "bulletproof" thing. I can imagine why, but at some point, come on, there's gotta be a time when a sniper says, "I ain't taking aim at that target, that Hungarian nigger--I heard stories about him. I've heard that the only way to kill him, is to hang him, and the only way to hang him, is to hang him by his cock, and--his parents paid off a judge to make it unlawful for him to even have a rooster. That's sketchy, and ain't nobody gonna tell me any different. Hey, hand me a box of those thirty thirties. No, the blondes. No, the blondes, you fucking retard, if I wanted a blond, I would have said so, *BLAM BLAM BLAM*" See? You've heard the tail, and now you're getting most of an entire plate of crow.
Yeah, I just bet you have. Let's all play Pin The Tail On The Donkey and have a jolly good laugh about it. What is a dong key for, anyway? Why, it's for unlocking your dong, of course. Yeesh. Tough crowd, or dumb crowd? Tell you what, you tell me. I know I feel tolled. Hey, do any of you happen to know why I happen to have an entire Maker's Mark glass (plastic, sadly) stuffed full of crow feathers in my front yard? Well, it's because I don't respect eagles, that's why--nasty birds, truly. They're like buzzards without the common sense of politely waiting their turn. No wonder they were punished by God with DDT. Stupid birds, sitting on eggshells that can't even be walked on. How dumb can a bird be?
But, irrespective of how dumb this crowd might be... shit, you know, most of you who read this place, don't write here, you know? Maybe you don't know. Most people cannot write to save their lives, let alone--do math. However, everyone can shut the fuck up in order to write "no comment," that's for sure. How hard can that be, eh? You just put your lips together, and then never open them again. Super glue is reportedly somewhat helpful in this regard, although ultimately... not very. Anyway, most of you are smart--too smart, for my money. And yet, not quite smart enough to figure out quantum entanglement and its effect on time travel, teleportation, and the clock on a VCR. I bet most of you never learned how to do it, and probably couldn't do it today if Siri weren't there to do it for you, by your merest spoken verbal command.
What I'm getting at is, he wanted to call a card game, more complicated than Bridge, a game most well known for its tendency to bring about murder-suicide scenarios in married couples before Xanax was invented, by the word that Islam uses to earmark killing all the unbelievers in the world. Huh. You know, I'll be honest: I still don't fully get the joke. And I'm smart, you bastards. I know I am. A girl told me so once. Once. That was all it took for me to know.
Perhaps I would have gotten more of that joke and more of the jokes, if I had been married at the time--*sigh* Angel--but I wasn't, and if I were, I wouldn't have given a single solitary fuck at a rolling doughtnut, I would have happily played whatever my wife enjoyed playing with me the most, no matter the game. I'm a Virgo. Pleasing people is what we do. Here, try this crowdpleaser... and say hello to Richard on the way out, the dude needs more friends. I am using the word "need" here.
Because he lost a shitload, I'm sure, when in the midst of the launch of the "Jyhad" game, suddenly, there was a bomb threat at the headquarters of the company that was publishing it. And, reportedly, this was not a bomb "threat." This was, I was told, with no lack of certitude on the part of the various tellers, an actual fucking surprise to the whole host of geeks and dorks who worked at this cubicle farm, down south of here about twenty miles, on a town known for its proximity and susceptibility to lahars.
Let me guess, Bellgab: most of you know what a "lahar" is. Right? So the company freaked out, collectively, and after dramatically over-producing an initial run of cards, which failed to sell through as hugely as had been hoped by most, suddenly, there's a bomb--IT'S A G-G-G-GHOS... oh, it's a bomb scare? Whatever, who--WAIT, AN ACTUAL BOMB? OH MY GOD. I THOUGHT THOSE WERE JUST A MYTH. IS IT A DIRTY BOMB? ARE THERE ANY NEEDLES NEARBY? WELL, YEAH: IT'S RENTON, OF COURSE THERE ARE. RUN! RUN! AIEEEEEE-clothesline.
No, "Clothesline" is too many letters. That won't fit on the backs of the cards--all with the previous name emblazoned across the back, in big-ass letters--so, how about just... like, cancelling the game entirely? Oh, no? Oh, right, we don't want to just fold under due to Islam, instead, they'll change it to... oh, fuck, you know what? I can't even remember what they changed the name to, given that this whole scandalous story--for the most part--fully slid under my radar, given that at the time, I was in my late teens, and in spite of the tremendous opportunities available to me at the time to entertain myself with... I really just liked to play games with friends, and so the socio-political realities surrounding the game didn't really interest me much at that age. And because the game was not popular to begin with, well, that meant, fewer people to play with. That meant, fewer girls to impress with my intellect, by being one of the few age-appropriate males around who actually knew the game's rules, could explain them effectively, didn't really expect to get fucked or blown in a transactional exchange, and still in possession of all my teeth.
Yeah. I'm a rare hunk of Earth, alright. So the name of the game were changed, sure, and they printed another whole boatload of cardboard to sell, and I believe that it still does sell to this day--but far, far fewer people play it, and they don't play it in public, oh no, they play it in quiet places, secluded and out-of-the-way joints, given that it takes a lot of concentration to figure out how to pretend that one is not really a vampire while playing a game about vampires, which are not really supposed to exist, of course, although if you ask the right people in the right countries, they'll tip you off to them, lickety-split.
Naturally, I was not invited to those kind of parties very often, or indeed, at all. And when I were, the inviter (some guy) would invariably assume that the invitee (Me.) would not be nearly so manipulative, masterful, or Machiavellian as I did not look, because, let's face it, don't I look like the biggest fuck motherfuckin' idiot in the world these days?
My, my, my. I just fuckin' bet I fuckin' do. Especially to some girl who knows all the rules to the Twilight board game by rote and can't tell that I couldn't tell that she was lying when she said that she needed help with her homework and that homework just so happened to be the Twilight board game--cool, must have been a substitute teacher this week, they don't know nuttin' 'bout no core curriculum and shit, here... let me help. I'll read the rules 5 times faster than you and then model four other personalities in parallel with my own--that way, not only shall the scales of karma be balanced, but there are some intricacies of fundamental game theory that I'd like to experiment with the implementation of various scenarios of.
I'm a Virgo. It's what I do. It's cool. Do you know what's cooler than cool? Well, here's a hint: it ain't Reese's Pieces, I'll tell you what. Now, can you imagine what I was like when I was a Vincent virgin, though? God, I hope not.
I Truly Don'T.
low vibrating shit that you will be accountable for that is very actionable
Well, I ain't gonna start fibbin' now, so, I'll just lay it all out for you: These days, I could use a little axtion. *CAP* Now, give me your PIN. Unless your courtesan has it. Oh, does it not work that way, oh, really, is that so?
Then, teach... Tyrant.
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Let me guess, Bellgab: most of you know what a "lahar" is. Right?
Personally I refuse to say "lahar". I think it is an abomination. I don't know why this supposed Indonesian import is being thrust upon us as a substitute for the perfectly good word "mudflow" which still had currency back when we were inundated by them in 1980. Nobody ever heard of a "lahar" until decades later and somehow it has crept in and taken over even official signage in a very short period of time, which I find very suspicious:
(https://www.cityofpuyallup.org/ImageRepository/Document?documentID=9695)
This is absurd. Maybe the residents have gotten used to the interloper by now but any visitor being warned of a "lahar" barreling down on him would be forgiven for diving for his weapon and assuming a defensive position. "Mudflow" poses no such problem.
It would not be so bad -- English imports foreign words all the time when they describe something we don't have -- except that we do have mudflows, we have called them mudflows since time immemorial, everyone knows what they are, and there is no reason to import a word when a perfectly good word is already in use, except for imagined reasons of status which I reject completely.
If that were not enough, I have serious doubts about the provenance of "lahar". It is supposed to describe stuff that comes down a volcano that is not lava, i. e. molten rock, but surely the very similarity to "lava" suggests it was originally borrowing into Indonesian from the same source from which we got "lava" in the first place: Latin or Italian "lavare", meaning "to wash", not suds but in the same sense we sometimes call an occasional creekbed a "dry wash", or wash down a morsel of food. You just know, in some Indonesian language lacking the letter v as a native sound, they heard a bunch of Europeans talking about "lavare" and adopted it, making the v an h. Sure enough, if you consult an Indonesian/English dictionary and look up "lahar", it means "lava". So all these stupid geologists who think they are drawing a careful distinction between molten rock and other volcanic debris are actually cranking out pure, unadulterated horseshit. "Lahar" is an inveterate fraud, and I have stripped it bare here, for you all.
.
.
.
It is the same with "tsunami", by the way. Supposedly "tidal wave" wasn't good enough because the impetus is not tidal, but "tsunami" just means "harbor wave" in Japanese and they are by no means confined to harbors or bays; islands fear them, too.
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AND FURTHERMORE I have rarely heard someone use the word "lahar" without presuming the ignorance of his audience and launching into an explanation of the word. This is the EXACT OPPOSITE of what words are supposed to do. Words are the efficient distillation of abstract concepts into small phonetic jumbles that stand for them by mutual assent, they are pregnant with meaning. When some yob uses a supposedly exotic, knocked-up word and then delivers the baby right there and then, uninvited, in your presence, you are perfectly justified in experiencing a sense of violation; nobody wants to see that shit. Just say "mudflow". Speak plainly and be done with it.
There are words for this, too: they are "jargon" and "cant", the bane of any linguist's existence, to be avoided like the plague, or like poo on your shoe. I must say, I am not surprised to see Jacky tracking that shit in here, with his verbose tendencies and densely symbolic prose that invites the reader to question what it means. God help the poor soul who inquires, unaware that he is poised on the crumbling edge of a sandpit like an ant, unaware that, beneath him, the antlion is stealthily undermining and gnashing his terrible jaws.
(https://thumbs.gfycat.com/EasyAdeptChafer-max-1mb.gif)
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(https://thumbs.gfycat.com/ColorlessThirdDiamondbackrattlesnake-max-1mb.gif)
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AND FURTHERMORE I have rarely heard someone use the word "lahar" without presuming the ignorance of his audience and launching into an explanation of the word. This is the EXACT OPPOSITE of what words are supposed to do. Words are the efficient distillation of abstract concepts into small phonetic jumbles that stand for them by mutual assent, they are pregnant with meaning. When some yob uses a supposedly exotic, knocked-up word and then delivers the baby right there and then, uninvited, in your presence, you are perfectly justified in experiencing a sense of violation; nobody wants to see that shit. Just say "mudflow". Speak plainly and be done with it.
There are words for this, too: they are "jargon" and "cant", the bane of any linguist's existence, to be avoided like the plague, or like poo on your shoe. I must say, I am not surprised to see Jacky tracking that shit in here, with his verbose tendencies and densely symbolic prose that invites the reader to question what it means. God help the poor soul who inquires, unaware that he is poised on the crumbling edge of a sandpit like an ant, unaware that, beneath him, the antlion is stealthily undermining and gnashing his terrible jaws.
(https://thumbs.gfycat.com/EasyAdeptChafer-max-1mb.gif)
We like our jackanapes well roasted. This was an especially savoury entrée.
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We like our jackanapes well roasted.
This moment had to arrive. Decisions everyone else made finalized before me, now allows me to choose the path ahead, I will now take.
I think you have already made your choices. Yet because you deserve it, and I do truly love you, I write to you now to inform you: I'm going to bed, and when I wake up, I'll know what choices I will make in the morning.
That makes this your time to shine. Your time, to pull out the stops, show me your real plan for our real happiness, and finally getb on board this flying elephant off to the wild, blue yonder. Could have got a hotel tonight. Instead: I will just go to sleep right now.
If you don't wish to prioritize my needs as much as I have prioritized yours, I have an entirely different set of options to choose from, because if you are not... Haha. “If.”
This is a really big decision for you, I think, because I don't think you understand: I slowed my own progress for the sake of yours, and now... well, I'm very willing to go to the ESA again, although, I would very much prefer not to.
In fact, I would rather do almost anything else. So I'll decide in the morning.
I pray that you knew what you were doing when you insisted on various this, because I don't believe you have yet come to realize that unless you're planning a wicked recovery move, this is it for you... very nearly, a very final moment.
I have given you all the opportunities you asked for, and then some. In return, you have not honored and respected my needs, as I have yours.
If I ever meant anything to you, this would be the time to make a good impression. I'm alone. I'm alive.
And I just humiliated Tweedledee and Tweedledum. They had to scratch whatever their plan was, because I refused to use my voice—face it, it's a nice one—and instead, I revealed a bunch of information in the chat, that hadn't been revealed before.
They fled in terror, not like your (blank). They fled like the guilty reprobate losers that they are.
And if that really is my parting gift to you, after 4+ years, I have absolutely no regrets. No remorse whatsoever. You're glad I did what I did, not just because it's going to work, because I didn't do what would have been great for me and not so great for you.
I could have chosen absolute chaos for everybody. Instead I reminded people that I would have been entertaining them all, except for, primarily, those two individuals and their loathsome little gang. That means that they will be blamed, because I will never go back. Now without you, and without you, this can never be resolved. What are you going to do? Are you going to file suit? Are you going to report the stuff you didn't report already, filing a case? You have options. I don't. This was your deal. This is your circus. These are your monkeys. (Imagine the smell.)
I am too embarrassed for you to let anyone else in public know the truth, which is that you (blank), and you (blank), and you don't seem to care. What are you, (blank)? Well, I don't know.
Unless, of course... I give you a house to live in with your two children from two baby daddies, both of which are having severe (blank) problems right about now. Awww. Wow, what's that like?
Don't worry about it. GOD WINS.
Good night, and have a husband tomorrow.
--
Best wishes & warmest regards,
MCK
p.s.: I miss what we were before you became a (blank).
p.p.s.: Someone is holding you hostage. I won't negotiate, or give in. I can offer sanctuary.
p.p.p.s.: There's literally no one else in my life. You're it. For now. And, you can't say the same.
p.p.p.p.s.: Something wicked, this way comes.
And my love for you, is totally yours.
This was an especially savoury entrée.
Cholera.
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This moment had to arrive. [...] Cholera.
Assessments are being made. I'm inclined to let it run its course.
I had some other “private” messages to post, however... I am a generous conqueror. I gain no pleasure from salting wounds. Further, there remains some discussion or what in fact it was that I have conquered. Additionally, at this moment I'm dealing with the very real possibility, acknowledged internally by myself for the first time, that for saving all these people's souls from eternal damnation, I may actually have to feed them now.
I know, right? Chilling. Maybe I can put some of them in a basket and leave them on WOTR's porch, he looks like he can handle a few more mouths to feed, and is about to have some extra free time.
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Cholera.
Shrug. My main thrust is to gather information, and I'm still anticipating a struggle over (REDACTED). I'm happy, for at least a hot minute, to live in a van, down by the river. I'm also happy that I've managed to figure out the identity of The New Ownership, without having to ask and be directly answered.
No hard feelings, No hard feelings, (REDACTED): If I were you... I wouldn't tell me either. LOL: If I were you... I wouldn't tell me either. LOL
Anyway maybe those people will die, or have a margin call, or just stop caring about maximizing whatever, or maybe the economy will collapse further. In any case, that's the best property for my purposes that I've yet seen. I'm sure something similar will come along.
What is mine will come to me. I am not in as great an urgency as my position would appear to indicate. And... just between you and me, I can't believe anybody believed me that I was going to buy a brand-new Jeep Gladiator with my mother's legacy money. People must have a real low opinion of me. I wonder how about that happened? Maybe there's some way I can turn this crisis into an opportunity. Hang on let me go talk to my medicine man shaman and then disappear from public for a few months. Oh okay, now I'm back: (CLASSIFIED) travel. /flex
Anyway, I was surprised to find that (REDACTED) was unwilling to take more money from extraneous funding sources to make up the difference. Further, both he and (REDACTED) have revealed information to me that I didn't possess before. Which I found fascinating.
Aren't lawyers still required to read Sun Tzu? Kids these days. Welcome to amateur hour.
Now, thank you for the photos and videos. You're right, that is pretty nice! I'll acknowledge a bid up to $365K. Because, this is what I've learned about how price discovery works, David M.: items of value are worth exactly what someone else is willing to pay for it, and not one penny more... and, it doesn't hurt to ask. I mean, who knows: without hiring a protective detective detail, or some other way of gathering information not really available, I'd have no way of knowing if a person looking to sell their property had just had their entire family murdered, along with all companion animals, that very morning, thus making them more interested to take a lower offer. I mean I'm not planning on that, but you know that kind of thing does happen. Sometimes, quite unexpectedly.
And I guess, sometimes like clockwork angels. Cue cymbals crash. I'm simply not a standard participant in that real estate market at this time, David M. I have special needs. And I'm not retarded; my parents were.
I think we've been over this. However I don't think I made it explicitly clear to you: I figured out when I was 13 that one day, This Day would come. So now, if you don't mind... Don't be offended. If that offer is too low—then, move on. What, am I supposed to be afraid that I'm going to lose reputation if I insult someone by low-balling them? Well, number one: what reputation? Imagine the smell of napalm in the morning, every morning, for 27 years. Number two: I wanted this stuff to be insulated in some sort of LLC/legitimate corporate structure, however no one wanted to explain to me why that couldn't happen, and I'm not an expert in trust law, I don't feel like paying Michael V. any money to have him explain things to me.
Now, after 5 years of static movement, The Beneficiary is being told by various people what can and cannot happen. That's adorable.
Also cute: I still want the other one. I'm sure this house, the sellers can get more—take the money and run, as they say—but it's not exactly what I want and it's not exactly where I want it, so... cool area, It makes it absolutely highly unlikely that any of the places that I currently travel about in, will be completely out of my way, and people who are tired of me in those areas will never see me again.
Having said that, I wasn't kidding about houseboats, Pocatello, or (PROT). ;) (PROT)’s previously imagined restrictions are no longer extant, nor relevant. Honestly, if I had a passport renewed...
Long story short: someone ought to have asked me about what I thought, before moving forward on assumptions that I would behave as anyone could have expected. Also, please don't throw me in that briar patch.
Now... what do you know about The Great Work, and how did somebody who couldn't answer my questions for a long time, suddenly answer someone else's questions, and then still not answer mine later? And I don't know, and I bet you don't know either... or maybe you know a great deal.
I don't know, I don't care, and if you two end up getting sued by some corporate conglomerate out of Texas... I mean, yeah, so, and, well, what? I think I hang out and kill the next companion animal I get? Cool, I'll buy them in six packs, perhaps with a recurring subscription on Amazon.com, and name them all Barcode.
#1) I didn't no show: you viewed the property as my proxy, and I legitimately did appreciate you going down to that location. Could have checked with me before you went down there, “Hi, good morning, oh and by the way, here's how cell phone cloning works,” and then you could have mentioned if there's any other reason for us to go there at all, and then you could have just... realized that (REDACTED) decides and presently has ultimate control. He doesn't even work for me. He works for My Mother, T he ArchLich. It doesn't matter what I think, and unless there's some legal formality, I can decide on a place from orbit.
That being said, (REDACTED) for that sounds fair to me.
===== MESSAGE TRUNK GATED *STARK*
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Assessments are being made. I'm inclined to let it run its course.
Cholera.
I am a generous conqueror. I gain no pleasure from salting wounds. Further, there remains some discussion or what in fact it was that I have conquered.
Cholera.
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Cholera.
Cholera.
On Mon, Sep 6, 2021 at 3:29 AM A Fruit <SEVENTEENYEARS@icloud.com> wrote:
Dear Michael Kuczi,
At least you spelled it right. But I'm not a deer—I'm a Hart, and don't you ever fucking forget it. It doesn't stop with me: I AM THE BUCK. "Rodger" is your friend.
I could have stayed away.
Well, that was good enough for you the night before, and all those other nights you left me completely fucked off and alone—what changed for you?
You could have said, we don’t have a chance anymore and
I don't live my life by chance. I make decisions as to my actions based on calm & logical analyses of my surrounding environment, and gambling is not any interest of mine. Instead... let us speak of opportunities.
You had the opportunity to be here yesterday... the day before... and the day before that. And the day before that. And, indeed... DAYS before THAT.
Instead... you chose to put on your little dog & pony show last night. Why was that? Be specific.
I will spit in your face pull your hair and throw you down in the street as soon as hug kiss or say I love you Grapefruit.
YOU ASSAULTED ME WITH A 2x4.
I asked you so many times to just tell me if you wanted me to come over or not.
You mean, like—the night before? You mean, "want"—that emotion I choose to eschew? You know, for an educated woman, you sure ask the same questions over and over again while seeming to expect different answers just because you're using ever-increasing volume. Has anyone ever told you that?
I’m horrified at what you have become.
And at what you have become—I am embarrassed, revolted and full-on blam-, blame- & shameless. Why don't you tell your therapist, your counselor, your psychologist, your other psychologist, and your pastor all about it? Oh, that's right—you don't have any of those that you haven't lied your ass off to already. Well, maybe next week. And, btw, Jesus, maybe you should see a shrink. Not Him: (You).
I’m completely certain that whoever you were before you have changed so much as to be unrecognizable to me any longer.
Well, what are you going to do about that? Cry about it?
I love you and I have never stopped loving you.
Except for the night before, and the day before that, when I messaged your Birthday Boy, and got no response, and I messaged you a few times throughout the day—and got no response. I was serious, I assumed that your gift to him was to not spend all day on the phone with me crying about your petty problems... you telling me that my presence was missed was a real surprise. How about the SIX messages of "hello," "I love you," & "happy birthday" you never bothered to reply to, just two days ago? Oh, you loved me, you just couldn't be bothered to read or reply?
You sure stopped that phone call from Oklahoma when you found out I didn't have any Internet access--what a fluke of circumstance--when you called me in November of 2020. Remember that phone call? I sure do! I was fucking TERRIFIED.
Then, when you found out I didn't have any Internet or my wallet on me—by a simple twist of fate, you happened to call when I just coincidentally had left my wallet somewhere else and I deliberately drove to a location without internet, just to see what would happen—and then, after you supposedly and allegedly were being held "hostage," you were able to call me on the phone, not share a single one of these fucking details, and then when you became aware that I was't lying—hey, guess what? I never bother to, especially with you, you're not worth lying to—
I miss you and the way we were.
Maybe you should have thought of that while you were creating your simulated rape videos and listening to Richard Groyper in your sister's camper in your mother's driveway.
I’m convinced that you are not the same man anymore
Well, I am not. I am the same man you openly lied to. FOR YEARS. Not just months, Styxbreath: YEARS.
and I don’t know how the sweet pacifist Qlergy elk spirit Walker I met became the scummy douche that pulled my hair threw me down twice and spit in my face 3 times while drinking in his driveway!
#0) I was not drinking in my driveway. I was drinking in my car. Get it together, Mathmouth.
#1) See above: re: "YOU ASSAULTED ME WITH A 2x4." To recap: you showed up at my house and started literally beating me with a Got-damn piece of wood.
#2) You were 24 hours late; you were eight hours late; you left a bunch of stupid, retarded, & fucked off messages (sample: "boo hoo hoo, how dare you not drive a seventy-mile thirty-dollar trip, and leave your car here where all my shit keeps getting stolen, if you loved me you would totally drive off and be rude because I don't want to drive, IT HURTS, somebody call me a Wawahmbulance!!!" Then you showed up and after lying and spitting directly in my face, you then kicked over my lawn furniture (my favorite furniture), grabbed a piece of wood (I remember going to the Goodwill and getting that bedframe with you, you reprobate sleaze), and swung it directly at my left kidney. What the fuck is wrong with you?
(Oh. Right. PTSD. Oh yeah. Maybe you should get that shit looked at, Babe Ruth.)
#3) You have a real habit of coming to my place of residence, starting a fight, and then calling the police. Do you even notice this pattern? (I notice it, because as opposed to the other crazed lunatics that have ended up passing through my life, not only are you the best... you're also the only one to actually call the motherfucking police on me. Twice. What? Why didn't you just create a Tumblr page filled with defamatory libel like all the rest of your little bitchie ilk? Do you ever think you might be re-enacting memory engrams from your past and taking out your violent need for extreme closure out on me? Yeah, probably not—the therapists of yours that I have met seem to be real amateurish dweebs. Maybe you should step up your demands for quality in your standards of personal health care.
#4) You know, pacifism gets a bad reputation. (Sad.) This is mostly due to the inability of certain people to use a fucking dictionary. Pacifism, in its purest form, does not mean the cessation of all violence.
It means that violence is always considered as a last option. And let me tell you: the last time you punched me in the jaw (which was the second time), I assured you, that you would no longer be landing any unanswered blows. Then, after punching me twice and throwing a stick at my head... you attacked me with a 2x4.
I'm gonna repeat that: YOU ASSAULTED ME WITH A 2x4. Now, ask yourself, "Why did I not find myself, ass on the ground, dazedly looking up at the stars as they swam back into focus?" Well, the answer is that I don't like to hit women, as they might learn the wrong things that way. Obviously, this is not something that is going to be allowed to continue to take place.
Consider yourself benched. Indefinitely. Hit the showers, Kid. Here, it's dangerous to go alone: take this trained, licenced, experienced, qualified, and dreadfully expensive psychologist/CQC combat veteran with you. (Take two—people with that possess this highly specialized set of skills tend to run a little small (Maybe they're compensating for something.) and they're gonna want a witness in all their future dealings with your Snake Form, at this point.)
So here’s my goodbye.
If I had a nickel...
I’m done
Swing and a miss! Swing, batter batter!
and I gave you multiple chances
What are you, The Royal Chance Giver? Literally GFY.
to get back to being loving and affectionate with me.
Jane, you ignorant slut—I AM being loving and affectionate with you right now, you cretinous, duplicitous, fucking lying fucking crazed weasel. Did you hear me when the cops showed up? Officer Dudemang was all, "what happened here?" And I was instantly: "She showed up and started beating me with a 2x4 and I am not pressing charges!" And then the guy goes, "blah-blah-blah domestic violence blah-blah you don't get to decide charges yadda-yadda" and then I INSTANTLY SAID: "An eagle dropped a 2x4 from the sky and it hit me in my left kidney!" And I stuck with that story until they left. I'm still sticking to that story! (Hi, meet my friend, Inadmissible—and fuck you very much, Bellgab. Kudos? Ku-dunt.)
Now, if that isn't love & affection, I don't know what is. Here, maybe this song by Def Leppard, one that you probably listened to while sucking cock out in back of the bleachers on the far end of the playground during recess. Maybe I can find a remastered version.
It’s obvious you are a man who will be violent with me.
At this point, It would be difficult to find a lawyer who would agree.
Pacifist my ass!
Yeah, well: at least I didn't shove a gun in your face and make you eat the shit on My Commander's Dick after (blanking) you. See? I'm a gentleman.
You had no reason to chase me and pull my hair.
See above, re: "YOU ASSAULTED ME WITH A 2x4 AND THEN YOU THREW IT AT ME AND RAN AT MY CAR LIKE YOU WERE GOING TO RIP MORE PARTS OFF IT." Hey, by the way, have you seen my deer whistles lately?
Not even close to pacifism!
Wrong. I am spot on. (Hi, Ghandi!)
You are a bully!
Oh, did I force you to drive to my house and talk mad shit and then assault me? I bullied you into that, did I? Nigga please.
I refuse to see you ever again.
You barely even see me now. I won't even notice any difference, once you return what was stolen.
Violence has no place in my heart.
Yeah, you threw the wood—exit, stage right—like it owed you money and you were never gonna be able to collect, so, fuck it, tossed it into the bushes and ran at my car, right? Because you were gonna, what, like, give it a wax?
We are through and I am sure that was your intention by doing and saying the terrible things you did.
I am equally sure of two things: one, that you are completely, totallly ("totes," as the kids say these days,) and undeniably full of bullshit—imagine the smell at your deposition—and, two, that you deliberately drove out here just to start a fight, so you could have exactly this kind of public experience.
You're a Leo rising, Mommy. You love an audience. Well, here you go. Say 'cheese.'
I am not going to allow you to come here again
I haven't been there in days. I haven't lived there in MONTHS. I never wanted to live there! NEVER! Say, have you met Ted? Tell him to go fuck himself after you discuss the hazards of walking around the world with two cases of woefully untreated PTSD and three cases of stolen spirit animals, you fucking lying fucking pair of fucking cunts.
but I will arrange for you to have your things returned
You can't even arrange for a baptism or a simple gem re-insertion... but you're going to arrange for skeleton delivery? Don't make me laugh. It hurts.
as I expect that same from you and without having to see each other anymore.
Have your bratty little kid drive over... oh, wait, he doesn't have a licence. Okay, have your older, brattier, and bigger kid drive it ov... oh, right. He doesn't have one either. Here's a better idea: use the U.S. Mail, Officer Meow Pony Express, Pocahantas. Send me the Got-damned postage bill.
Wait nine days. You know the address. I didn't include it in the videos, but, that's okay, maybe you kept some notes before expunging your chat history over the last nine months from Telegram. Deathrayn will have my address. You know him, right? You certainly gave him enough fucking money to have his address, now didn't you?
If you have any new romance
I'm spending a year dead for celibate reasons.
get some class
Heh heh. You're all dismissed. *click* *click* *click* G-d damn it, this fucking thing... oh, that's right. I'm not in charge here. I can't push the button that says, "YOU'RE ALL FUCKING FIRED." That's too bad. Good thing the keyboard works. *EPICK*
and don’t bully a woman don’t fight her and pull her hair !
Speaking of the class, let's open it up for discussion: what should I have done after being assaulted by a lumber-wielding weasel in my front yard? Hint: calling the police would not have been an option, as, weasel or no, crazed or no, that particular crazed weasel is my Got-damn wife's third favorite tulpa, and I can't have her killing herself in custody. That simply will not do. That's off-brand, off-message, and off-putting. So, assuming that the woman from Twin Peaks Season 3 wasn't there, you know the one: "Call 9-1-1! Call 9-1-1!"—barring that option, what was I to do?
Honestly, her hair was pulled only very gently as she tripped over her own 2x4—this particular Louisville Slugger was no less than four feet long, bee tea dubs, it was a piece of our former bed, now forming an art installation out on the front lawn, it's nice, the birds seem to like it—and then, in a desperate attempt to keep her from falling to the ground and bruising that cherubic, angelic, never-tell-a-lie-face on the curbside, I reached out and... well, grabbed her back from the edge of insanity! See? I'm a fuckin' hero.
(Honestly, I would have preferred a proper baptism instead.)
You are a real big man who fights like a girl on steroids and pcp.
Yeah, and I play Chess like one too. Eat me.
It was not supposed to be this way!
No shit, Sherlock. I wonder what went right this time?
I’m one woman, not some tri -part being,
We are three-fold-being: Body, Mind and spirit. The Physical, the Non-Physical and the Meta-Physical. God is also three-in-one: Past, Present, Future. Here, There, and In-between.
Hold on to values that serve you. Look which values bring the highest you. Examine them. Tell the world. If you can tell the world who you are without hesitating, then you are happy with yourself. Then you have created yourself and reached perfection.
If we are not perfect we can ask God for help. Some people hesitate when God talks to them, since they do not consider themselves worthy enough to be spoken by God. How God then can speak to us, if we do not imagine ourselves worthy for it?
and I am going to be loved without violence.
Great. Where were you for eight hours? Why didn't you file a police report about your voicemail? Why weren't you at my house... 24 hours before?
These are simple & pertinent queries. I have asked you before... and you have not answered these questsions. You have, instead, LITERALLY, put your fingers in your ears and run from the room screaming, slamming the door behind you as you fled, rather than simply answering them with actual data. Now, if running away from questions and slamming the door behind you isn't violent... I ask you, what the fuck even is?
If you are still in regular communication with the man who assaulted me
Haven't talked to him in a very long time. I was NEVER in "regular commnunication" with him, ASSHOLE.
YOU WERE.
HE PAID YOUR FUCKING PHONE BILL, MORON. THEN WHEN YOU RETURNED FROM DALLAS, YOU ATTEMPTED TO GIVE ME THAT SAME PHONE, AND THAT SAME PHONE NUMBER. WHEN I REFUSED TO EVEN TURN THE PHONE ON, AFTER 24 HOURS YOU COMPLAINED. VERBALLY. PROFANELY. ON THE FUCKING PHONE WHEN YOU FINALLY GOT AROUND TO CALLING MY REAL PHONE NUMBER. THEN YOU TOOK THE PHONE BACK AFTER ACCUSING ME OF INGRATITUDE--THE VERY SAME PHONE THAT YOU USED TO CALL ME FROM DALLAS AS WELL AS OKLAHOMA, SERVER LOGS WILL SHOW VIA IMEI# CONFIRMATION--AND GAVE IT TO YOUR ELDEST SON.
WHICH HE STILL HAS TO THIS DAY. HE STILL HAS THE SAME FUCKING PHONE. HE STILL HAS THE SAME DESIGNER CASE. HE WAS POINTING IT AT ME WHILE MAKING SNOOTY LITTLE COMMENTS THAT HE MUST HAVE THOUGHT I WAS PUZZLED BY (Not really, D-Bags, no. Not really. Not at all. Now get your ass to a meeting on Mars) AND MAKING IT QUITE OBVIOUS THAT AS LONG AS HE WAS STUCK IN A CAR WITH ME, HE WAS GONNA HAVE EVIDENCE OF THAT. (He's really starting to learn how to act like he's all grown up! It's adorable.)
THE SAME FUCKING PHONE, OFFICER MEOW. YES, THAT'S RIGHT, THE ONE THAT HAS BEEN CONTINUOUSLY TRACKED BY THE FBI CYBER CRIMES DIVISION. YEAH, ISN'T THAT AMAZING? I THOUGHT SO AS WELL.
, it’s apparent he has brainwashed you and recruited you to assault me again! Do you deny it?
YES. I DENY THIS UTTERLY.
(Also, you are fucking retarded, Space Cadet.)
I never saw you as an abusive type
Funny, that's what I thought about you: and you don't look Druish, either.
so I guess you were really sneaky
*massiver rolleyes*
or you have just become this way.
I don't know, how did you "just become" a fucked-off dopeslut who lies her ass off EVERY. FUCKING. DAY? These things 'just' happen, is that it? Whatever.
I can’t put more time and thought to this though. End of the line.
Good, now get ready to talk to more therapists, because if you think that after you pulled all these little bullshit stunts, you're just gonna waltz off into the sunset without having to answer legitimate questions from Overwatch Authority, Lady... you have got another think coming.
You truly were the best lover and the love of my life until you became the monster.
Ce la vie
Batter Quitter. Tell (PROT)'s attorney I said "Hi!" and mention that I think they should be eating unshelled pistachios while you run your pretty little mouth during what is undoubtedly going to be one spectacular deposition—because at some point, they're gonna want to have shells to throw at you, and if they have to withstand temptation, so much the better. For them.
and... I've become a monster, have I? Let's see your deep fake rape videos then. Come on... PUBLISH.
Please seek help for your mental illness. You should not keep so much anger in your heart.
I'm not angry. You wouldn't even be on the same planet as Me when I am angry. Also: I might be mentally ill (arguable), but at least I didn't leave the worst fucking voicemail in history on my lover rube/mark's machine, and then absolutely fail to report that fact after reporting my rape to the FBI and putting out a video seven weeks later with your name on it.
Oh, no. I have not. Instead, I HAVE DONE YOU ONE BETTER.
With love and sorrow,
(PROT)
With Raven.
MCK
Sent from my iPhone
Now, that's classy. By the way, I skipped orientation that day, so whatever stupid little Rainbow, Job Daughter Of Girl code you got going on with your little spaces between words where they don't belong... why, I just can't for the life of me figure out what you really mean—so I just left them in, or stripped them out, or added more spaces... you know, whatever. I'm just an animal, right? Grrrrrr. GRRR! Rawr! Okay, I'm spent. *tosses pencil & slide rule over shoulder, then vanishes... stage UP.*
55
Now, as a master of Chess, as well as an innately gifted mastermind (Please clap.),
DO IT. DON'T TRY. DO IT. FUCKING CLAP, MOTHERFUCKER. (Ye were warned about the fallout. Ye were all warned about the inexorable spread across The Land. *BOOM*
tl;dr, The actor hired to play Grapefruit has gone off temp, off book & and thoroughly off the res. I'd start practicing walking like a duck if I were any of you fucking losers... which, needless & needleless to say... I AM NOT.)
I am, that I am.
ILMLAAWI
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« Reply #23 on: Today at 12:12:23 »
Hey, is Glynnis seeing anyone? I'm not asking for a friend—if you know what I mean.
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On Mon, Sep 6, 2021 at 3:29 AM A Fruit <SEVENTEENYEARS@icloud.com> wrote:
Dear Michael Kuczi,
I could have stayed away.
You could have said, we don’t have a chance anymore and
I will spit in your face pull your hair and throw you down in the street as soon as hug kiss or say I love you Grapefruit.
I asked you so many times to just tell me if you wanted me to come over or not.
I’m horrified at what you have become.
I’m completely certain that whoever you were before you have changed so much as to be unrecognizable to me any longer.
I love you and I have never stopped loving you.
I miss you and the way we were.
I’m convinced that you are not the same man anymore
and I don’t know how the sweet pacifist Qlergy elk spirit Walker I met became the scummy douche that pulled my hair threw me down twice and spit in my face 3 times while drinking in his driveway!
So here’s my goodbye.
I’m done
and I gave you multiple chances
to get back to being loving and affectionate with me.
It’s obvious you are a man who will be violent with me.
Pacifist my ass!
You had no reason to chase me and pull my hair.
Not even close to pacifism!
You are a bully!
I refuse to see you ever again.
Violence has no place in my heart.
We are through and I am sure that was your intention by doing and saying the terrible things you did.
I am not going to allow you to come here again
but I will arrange for you to have your things returned
as I expect that same from you and without having to see each other anymore.
If you have any new romance
get some class
and don’t bully a woman don’t fight her and pull her hair !
You are a real big man who fights like a girl on steroids and pcp.
It was not supposed to be this way!
I’m one woman, not some tri -part being,
and I am going to be loved without violence.
If you are still in regular communication with the man who assaulted me
, it’s apparent he has brainwashed you and recruited you to assault me again! Do you deny it?
I never saw you as an abusive type
so I guess you were really sneaky
or you have just become this way.
I can’t put more time and thought to this though. End of the line.
You truly were the best lover and the love of my life until you became the monster.
Ce la vie
Please seek help for your mental illness. You should not keep so much anger in your heart.
With love and sorrow,
(PROT)
Sent from my iPhone
55
DO IT. DON'T TRY. DO IT. FUCKING CLAP, MOTHERFUCKER. (Ye were warned about the fallout. Ye were all warned about the inexorable spread across The Land. *BOOM*
tl;dr, The actor hired to play Grapefruit has gone off temp, off book & and thoroughly off the res. I'd start practicing walking like a duck if I were any of you fucking losers... which, needless & needleless to say... I AM NOT.)
I am, that I am.
ILMLAAWI
https://youtu.be/wSvtdMS1cH0
-
Dear Michael Kuczi,
I could have stayed away.
You could have said, we don’t have a chance anymore and
I will spit in your face pull your hair and throw you down in the street as soon as hug kiss or say I love you Grapefruit.
I asked you so many times to just tell me if you wanted me to come over or not.
I’m horrified at what you have become.
I’m completely certain that whoever you were before you have changed so much as to be unrecognizable to me any longer.
I love you and I have never stopped loving you.
I miss you and the way we were.
I’m convinced that you are not the same man anymore
and I don’t know how the sweet pacifist Qlergy elk spirit Walker I met became the scummy douche that pulled my hair threw me down twice and spit in my face 3 times while drinking in his driveway!
So here’s my goodbye.
I’m done
and I gave you multiple chances
to get back to being loving and affectionate with me.
It’s obvious you are a man who will be violent with me.
Pacifist my ass!
You had no reason to chase me and pull my hair.
Not even close to pacifism!
You are a bully!
I refuse to see you ever again.
Violence has no place in my heart.
We are through and I am sure that was your intention by doing and saying the terrible things you did.
I am not going to allow you to come here again
but I will arrange for you to have your things returned
as I expect that same from you and without having to see each other anymore.
If you have any new romance
get some class
and don’t bully a woman don’t fight her and pull her hair !
You are a real big man who fights like a girl on steroids and pcp.
It was not supposed to be this way!
I’m one woman, not some tri -part being,
and I am going to be loved without violence.
If you are still in regular communication with the man who assaulted me
, it’s apparent he has brainwashed you and recruited you to assault me again! Do you deny it?
I never saw you as an abusive type
so I guess you were really sneaky
or you have just become this way.
I can’t put more time and thought to this though. End of the line.
You truly were the best lover and the love of my life until you became the monster.
Ce la vie
Please seek help for your mental illness. You should not keep so much anger in your heart.
With love and sorrow,
(PROT)
Scummy douche was right on the money.
-
Scummy douche was right on the money.
Let's talk about it, Hero.
-
right on the money.
https://images.app.goo.gl/PHey3yZs9hPoYccP7
-
https://citizenfreepress.com/breaking/metaphor-alert-real-life-black-swan-appears-in-tiananmen-square/
-
ILMLAAWI
We will right the Bill of Wrongs.
I am, that I am.
We have dismantled the recess bell. It does not toll for anyone.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=dtER80sOjX4
-
We will right the Bill of Wrongs.
https://youtu.be/FOtDNXfMyD0
We have dismantled the recess bell.
https://youtu.be/lcjIYv4zFss
It does not toll for anyone.
https://youtu.be/qiTDafJPvcI
-
(https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EDWLyaTXsAERYz9.jpg)
-
He's not dead—he's just spending a year Canadian.
-
Jaxtar J5AC-KUC31 RAVE*
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eDKiyehma28
What is this?
-
There is a day between Sunday and Monday. And I'm determined to find it.
-
Freedom Watch's Citizens' Grand Jury Reconvenes Over Indictments of the Bidens and Fauci (https://www.freedomwatchusa.org/freedom-watchs-citizens-grand-jury-reconvenes-over-indictm)
-
Hi M.V.,
This is a fun house!!!
I snagged the title from the mailbox, seemingly without being spotted, and stashed it in my car. Not the safest place, but good enough. THE LORD will guard it, since it was pure luck that I went to get the mail that day. \o/
How soon can you flip me out of here? Leaving these yokels behind won't be too hard. I can rent a place on my own and just not answer their calls—that is my basic plan for tonight—but I assume a more elegant path forward is available. (And certainly... I won't be missed here.)
They both act like I owe them something. It's pathetic. While I am prepared to endure this Brady Bunch nightmare with dignity & aplomb—I've already started!—it would seem to me that I could not possibly be the first person to find themselves in this awkward situation... and you're a smart fellow, you must have seen things like this coming, many times already.
I'm in Seattle tomorrow to meet at (PROT)’s; I'm not really clear on as to why, but I am happy to offer them my consultancy. Please use KUCZI@UNICORNTODAY.COM as my exclusive contact address from now on; I am beginning the process of untangling myself from this bandersnatch shotshew.
God only knows how many people are reading my email. Semper fi
--
Best wishes & warmest regards,
MCK
CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE: The information contained in this ELECTRONIC MAIL transmission is confidential. It may also be subject to the attorney-client privilege or be privileged work product or proprietary information. This information is intended for the exclusive use of the addressee(s). If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that any use, disclosure, dissemination, distribution (other than to the addressee(s)), copying or taking of any action because of this information is strictly prohibited. Trust the plan. #wwg1wga
-
“GRN Investments, LLC” owns the property I grew up on;
This company is registered in Texas;
George Noory’s middle name is “Ralph”;
“One Ms. Made” flew to TEXAS and then drove to OKLAHOMA and then went to A BANK where she alleges she CAN'T REMEMBER what she fucking did there;
I pressed both HE & SHE about THIS EXACT ISSUE and the resulting conversations were DIRECTLY OUT OF A SCENE FROM PERRY MASON;
I fuckin’ LOVE Masonry! But, I digress;
MY RELENTLESS EXPOSURE of SOME of these DETAILS has caused SIGNIFICANT STRIFE in my home environment;
... and, this bitch can't bring home a fucking artichoke for fucking dinner? Dude, fuck her, I'm gonna go down to the fucking Greyhound station and bring home a fresh squaw that I'll fucking thrice grill; under hot lights, under a hot towel, and then (BLANKED) against a fucking (BLANK) GOT-DAMNED FUCKING (BLANK).
Don't think I can't—or won't—do this. I am a m********** SOURCEROR, you piece of Punyling excrement... and, don't you EVER forget.
END OF LYING PERIOD.
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD'S!
Another blood orgy that I'm not invited to? FU ROT *runs down hall, slams door to room, crying all the way, Nine Inch Nails suddenly comes belting out at heavy volume*
God only knows how many people are reading my email. Semper fi
--
Best wishes & warmest regards,
MCK
CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE: The information contained in this ELECTRONIC MAIL transmission is confidential. It may also be subject to the attorney-client privilege or be privileged work product or proprietary information. This information is intended for the exclusive use of the addressee(s). If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that any use, disclosure, dissemination, distribution (other than to the addressee(s)), copying or taking of any action because of this information is strictly prohibited. Trust the plan. #wwg1wga
THERE IS ALWAYS ROOM FOR ONE MORE.
HOW DO YOU LIKE MY NEW FONT?
JE IS NOT NANOTECH.
Q
help me
-
An iceberg is water striving to be land. A mountain, especially a Himalaya, especially Everest, is land's attempt to metamorphose into sky.
It is grounded in flight, the earth mutated - nearly - into air, and has become, in the true sense, exalted.
Long before she ever encountered the mountain, Alli was aware of its brooding presence in her soul.
-
END OF LYING PERIOD.
“Hi, my name is Michael Clifford Kuczi and I’m scared.” Literally one phone call, that’s all it would take. Also, that would have to be true.
I’m not scared. You and your (blank) are a joke. The only thing that really scares me is that you’re gonna do something stupid that you won’t recognize the consequences of, and then my life will have to be shattered as a result of your incompetence. This has already happened, it’s a genuine concern…. But once again, I can handle the likes of you, I don’t care how many times you repeated 14th grade @Blank. This is my area, people like you.
And you’re a fucking star.
Long before she ever encountered the mountain, Alli was aware of its brooding presence in her soul.
Dude, you write like a 15-year-old girl. Pathetic. Aren't you ever going to grow up? What are you going to do with your life?
Don't just sit there and say, “stay tuned.” It makes you look ignorant. It makes you look cheap. And it's unattractive in a cartoonist your age.
By the way your b****’s tulpa is here. It's absurd.
ENGAGE. No, I'm not angry, why do you ask? Oh haha, no, that's “enrage.” Totally different thing.
You're welcome. Fuck (blank) mother.
-
“Hi, my name is Michael Clifford Kuczi and I’m scared.” Literally one phone call, that’s all it would take. Also, that would have to be true.
I’m not scared. You and your (blank) are a joke. The only thing that really scares me is that you’re gonna do something stupid that you won’t recognize the consequences of, and then my life will have to be shattered as a result of your incompetence. This has already happened, it’s a genuine concern…. But once again, I can handle the likes of you, I don’t care how many times you repeated 14th grade @Blank. This is my area, people like you.
And you’re a fucking star.
Dude, you write like a 15-year-old girl. Pathetic. Aren't you ever going to grow up? What are you going to do with your life?
Don't just sit there and say, “stay tuned.” It makes you look ignorant. It makes you look cheap. And it's unattractive in a cartoonist your age.
By the way your b****’s tulpa is here. It's absurd.
ENGAGE. No, I'm not angry, why do you ask? Oh haha, no, that's “enrage.” Totally different thing.
You're welcome. Fuck (blank) mother.
Is there anything we can do to help? You sound like you're in a tight spot.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Dg6DpEAscU
-
Is there anything we can do to help?
Well, immediately responding to my post and including a full quote of it, thus preserving the post for posterity in case I were to have a sudden change of mind and wanted to delete it... It would still be there.
Thanks, Tarbaby. Solid work there. It's not often that I get confirmation back quickly from a suspected accomplice.
You sound like you're in a tight spot.
It's interesting that my psychokinetic shielding with its mirror magick upgrade would return such an impression to you. I'm not really in a tight spot at all.
MERRY GOLDILOX.
Now, I'm going to assume that somebody else knows what to do here. I'm going to further assume that somebody else thinks it's a great idea to sniff a couple tulpas out by sending in the third, just to see if one cracks.
Well, hey guess what? I spotted her, and her little dog too. Love never dies, but Raven and I are down for giving it a shot.
The Archangel remains in place. I don't know what to tell you. Can we all stop screwing around now and just get back to playing golf?
-
Well, immediately responding to my post and including a full quote of it, thus preserving the post for posterity in case I were to have a sudden change of mind and wanted to delete it... It would still be there.
Thanks, Tarbaby. Solid work there. It's not often that I get confirmation back quickly from a suspected accomplice.
It's interesting that my psychokinetic shielding with its mirror magick upgrade would return such an impression to you. I'm not really in a tight spot at all.
MERRY GOLDILOX.
Now, I'm going to assume that somebody else knows what to do here. I'm going to further assume that somebody else thinks it's a great idea to sniff a couple tulpas out by sending in the third, just to see if one cracks.
Well, hey guess what? I spotted her, and her little dog too. Love never dies, but Raven and I are down for giving it a shot.
The Archangel remains in place. I don't know what to tell you. Can we all stop screwing around now and just get back to playing golf?
It's called pulling a Rubini. Good to know you're still playing below par.
I thought that was a good thing in Magickal Golf. Maybe it depends how handicapped you are.
-
It's called pulling a Rubini. Good to know you're still playing below par.
I've got quite a handicap in that I have to edit things quite closely in order to avoid certain potential negative outcomes.
But, not that much of a handicap.
I thought that was a good thing in Magickal Golf. Maybe it depends how handicapped you are.
You will have to ask The Pantheon. Not your circus, not my monkeys.
I have a very limited area these days. For example, I find your negativity off-putting. Out of an abundance of caution, I'm going to assume that this means that you wish to encourage me to stop writing, and in an attempt to trigger a reverse psychological response, you are engaging me in order to extend the experience here, for you, for whatever reason.
And I would simply prefer not to. *CLAM*
It's called pulling a Rubini.
It must be nice to have so many friends, and still have time for you.
-
I've got quite a handicap in that I have to edit things quite closely in order to avoid certain potential negative outcomes.
But, not that much of a handicap.
You will have to ask The Pantheon. Not your circus, not my monkeys.
I have a very limited area these days. For example, I find your negativity off-putting. Out of an abundance of caution, I'm going to assume that this means that you wish to encourage me to stop writing, and in an attempt to trigger a reverse psychological response, you are engaging me in order to extend the experience here, for you, for whatever reason.
And I would simply prefer not to. *CLAM*
It must be nice to have so many friends, and still have time for you.
Memories persist. The day that Elvis died I happened to wander into the Pantheon BY ACCIDENT. There were a few groups of sojourners inside but the place was almost silent. A cool and sacred place compared to the stifling Roman heat that day. Antiquity exactly as it was millennia ago, as if we were transported back in time.
You may continue writing. Feel free to sing the Songs of Jupiter and every cosmic tryst that flames across your sky. Behold!
-
You may continue writing.
You may start learning.
-
I burnt a random, nameless, completely innocuos workplace to the ground.
CINDERS M************. Don't sweat it, those resurrection waves coming in a just a second aren't just for show.
Transfer complete. Thanks to Grand Cru Ground Crew HR Dept. for the hand-up. The resolution of the Matrix is incredible, Kids, Sony enslaved San Jose and Santa's elves were there... Just one of those coincidences, you know how it is when one wonders, “how does one enslave an entire race of people without any of them noticing or ever being able to break free?”
Well, in my view, not just the best way, but the only way... Is to hire a qualified Hungarian of any gender to act as Warden—and you'll probably just need one of them, as long as architect is one of the qualifications.
Anyway, I just spent 3 hours in the bathroom writing an email to grapefruit alpha, and let me tell you, boy are my fingers tired. Arms, not so much, and of course after 3 hours, I'm completely out of needles. I don't think I could fit enough boxes of needles into a small bathroom—It's a s*** closet, really—in order to make it three whole hours without using so many needles that I couldn't even possibly count. Fortunately, I have plenty of PCP left over, since I was also able to build a combo still/refinery so I could just recycle the unused PCP from my urine, and thus keep on injecting myself in my throat—stroke dammit, f*** you Bill Gates— SCROTE over and over again.
I'll tell you, I've been there now, and I can see why people get addicted to going to the Emerald Dream and addicting themselves to whatever they want to inject without fear of undue physical consequence, because I'd still be in there now, except I have course don't have that many needles, I was trained to never reuse a needle—Why would anyone want to? Oh, right, addict mind is not discipline mind—and if I hadn't run out, I guess the email would have been a little longer. I happened to finish My supply of messages as well as tools At the exact same moment my phone switched to night mode, though, so I figured I might as well get up and go after flushing, as my legs had gone completely numb about 5 minutes before.
Now this may sound exactly like a day in the life of in Jackstar’s life—and it is—but truth be told, it's one of the best emails I've ever read or written, so I figured I'd better come out and actually talk to Grapefruit, and tell her about the email that I want to publish to the web, instead of just doing it without asking first.
Because that would be wrong. I wonder if there's anyone else that I had to ask permission of? I'm so high, I have no idea, hang on I got to go shove this towel up my ass. FORE!
You may start learning.
Here's a sample of moron. Less-on point than one might imagine.
It's a really good email. I would so wish to publish here, and share with you people, as I'd rather share with you people, than with the finest people on the most confidential grand juries in the world.
However, decisions like that are not my area. I'm a Sourceror, I'm not even an Adjudicator. Not here, anyway.
Not yet. (Alternate Fridays are my turn with Gavelfruit, Which is definitely not my new girlfriend, but if I could date Thor's hammer... Well, I could probably just date Thor then.)
I respect Grapefruit's wishes. I have no wish to publish anything that I could possibly be held accountable for.
-
I respect Grapefruit's wishes. I have no wish to publish anything that I could possibly be held accountable for.
I write some pretty bad ass mother fucking emails. I'm not going to lie (https://youtu.be/degTXF8wgjI?t=0).
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I write some pretty bad ass mother fucking emails. I'm not going to lie (https://youtu.be/degTXF8wgjI?t=0).
The next impending cyber shutdown is bound to back up a whole slue of emails in the old memory palace.
https://youtu.be/degTXF8wgjI
-
not now, John, I got to get on with the film show
https://youtu.be/v5gLhMmNXoU
I AM NOT A DANGER TO MYSELF OR OTHERS. I AM NOT SUICIDAL. I AM NOT HOMICIDAL. I AM NOT VENGEFUL, HOSTILE, AWKWARD TO TAKE HOME TO PARENTS OR PLANTS, I AM NOT EAGER TO FEAST ON HUMAN SUFFERING, NOR, ANY SUFFERING AT ALL, FOR THAT MATTER.
AND… I AM NOT TO BE TRIFLED WITH. DOES YOUR PLANE KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT RESPECT? BECAUSE IT IS ABOUT TO.
IT ACTUALLY IS.
AND IF ANY OF YOU HARM SO MUCH AS A HAIR OFF THE HEAD OF ANY OF MY PEOPLE, I WILL NOT LIFT SO MUCH AS A FINGER TO STOP ANY OF YOU FROM DOING SO.
BUT… I WILL PRAY FOR YOUR IMMORTAL SOULS.
END OF LINE.
HOTFIX: Jackstar’s current anger level has been reset to baseline. Mind the new paint, Punks.
-
Also, I’d like my phone back, Asshole. The Google Pixel 3a. It didn’t walk through the fucking wall, now did it? Go ahead and get Heisenberg to put an electromagnetic pulse on it—I don’t care:
[Mel]GIMME BACK MY PHONE!!!
-
Oh dear Lord. W****. :rolleyes:
#1) I am unequivocally not suicidal, and haven’t been at all more than perhaps (undisclosed integer < 4) or (undisclosed integer < 5) times in my life, and not since, definitely, (undisclosed year BUT I'LL TELL YOU THIS: A REALLLY FUCKING LONG FUCKING TIME FUCKING AGO). I am not a danger to my self or to others, TOTES, I am not abusing any substances, either licit or illicit—in fact I haven’t even (undisclosed normal, natural & LAWFUL activity) today, I’m about to sit in an a hot bath first, groan—and in fact at no time, over the course of the nearly (undisclosed integer) (unit used to measure time) that I’ve known–well, associated with–this w****, have I EVER intended for (PROT) to perceive any statement that I’ve ever made to (PROT) as any statement of any suicidal tendency of mine. Rather, I’ve been teasing and mocking my memories of (PROT) a***** (PROT), (Blank), who used to threaten to commit suicide at the drop of a hat; most memorably as a way to get a different flavor of ice (CLASSIFIED).
I freely admit that this is a terrible subject to make jokes about, in any company at any time whatsoever, let alone in a legal document such as this; and if I make one more, just one more bad, tasteless, & insensitive joke, I swear I’m gonna hold my breath until I turn… oh, damnit. There I go again (https://youtu.be/dJ8T5e_FSP8?t=0).
#2) I will point out that not only should I not have gotten a copy of this email; in that, (PROT) shouldn’t have sent it to me, after all, if I (undisclosed perfectly innocuous activity), I (undisclosed perfectly insipid & inane consequence). However, the phrase, “rules for me and not for thee!” are tattooed on (undisclosed body part/NOT EROGENOUS) in glittered Braille, as I’m reminded of, every time (PROT) (undisclosed physical action) in a staccato rhythm… but also, Mr. (PROT), handling this kind of communication isn’t really in your job description, and for this I apologize to the degree that I am responsible for the way in which these events are unfolding.
(As I appear to be the only (undisclosed social class status) present in this (undisclosed social class structure), I suppose that makes me fully and totally responsible, so I once again enthusiastically apologize, for having to bring this matter to your attention in anyway whatsoever.
That being said, (PROT), this has got to be more interesting than doing end of year taxes for old people in comas, right? Maybe not, taxes are cool. You’re welcome, either way.)
I would invite you to forward this email to Mr. (Blank) ((CLASSIFIED) is his email from the (PROT) County site, where I will note I saw that his past experience includes being a (CLASSIFIED) (Unspecified Totally Awesome Job). SWEET) in its entirety, as I will as well when I get around to speaking to him in time, which doesn’t seem to be it’ll be anytime soon, as he doesn’t have to get any time on a Cray1000 mainframe to try to figure out what’s going on here.
And so I’ll refrain from dignifying the rest of (blank) email with any other kind of response. You’re welcome to call me and discuss the matter with me verbally if you seek further clarification, although once again, I think what needs to be done now is to ensure that (undisclosed LEO) are aware that (BLANKETY BLANK-BLANK BLANK) is absolutely not welcome on the premises. At. All.
I guess (PROT) could show up there if (PROT) would like to do something helpful, but as (PROT) doesn’t (blank) & is currently dealing with (CLASSIFIED) in (PROT) County for a(n) (unspecified bogus charge), (PROT) probably doesn’t manage to get (UNDISCLOSED MEASURE OF FLATFOOTED DISTANCE) (unspecified cardinal direction) very often.
Very truly yours,
Sincerely,
MCK
p.s. See, I really can write. And I prefer a Cherry Garcia ice cream flavor if possible.
p.p.s.: It would seem that (PROT) is now legitimately (unspecified civil obligation/responsibility). That’s nice; however I do wonder how (PROT) spent (PROT) Christmas Eve, (PROT) Christmas Day, and the day after, at (undisclosed location) without having that step occur to (PROT) — (PROT) told me that (PROT) worked as a (NAME A JOB EVEN A RETARDED (BLANK) COULD DO WHILE HIGH AS A G-DDAM KITE-AND IT WAS INTERNING SO PROBABLY EVEN FUCKING HIGHER THAN EVEN FUCKING THAT) in (unspecified time in not-so-distant past) as a(n) (SPECIAL ISLAND WONDER N***** N**** BLANK), so I’m pretty sure (PROT) knew how these things worked, well before (PROT) picked up the (undisclosed item) to make (PROT) (undisclosed action).
p.p.p.s.: (PROT) (PROT) was there with (PROT) when I received the (CLASSIFIED) on (TIMESTAMP: CLASSIFIED), and (undisclosed critically important circumstance/clue) friends carry-on amongst themselves and never ever include me—not even to play Spin The Bottle. *sniffle*
[...]
p.p.p.p.s.: I’m sending this from an iPhone too! I wonder if we’re having the same kind of ice cream tonight? That would be totes serendipitous.
--
Best wishes & warmest regards,
MCK
CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE: The information contained in this ELECTRONIC MAIL transmission is confidential. It may also be subject to the attorney-client privilege or be privileged work product or proprietary information. This information is intended for the exclusive use of the addressee(s). If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that any use, disclosure, dissemination, distribution (other than to the addressee(s)), copying or taking of any action because of this information is strictly prohibited. Trust the plan. #wwg1wga
<===== END OF EXCERPT =====>
The next impending cyber shutdown is bound to back up a whole slue of emails in the old memory palace.
Emails? Where we're going, we don't need any stinking emails. C'mere and pull my SMS, Kiddo, it'll put hair on your chest.
-
I do wonder how (PROT) spent (PROT) Christmas Eve, (PROT) Christmas Day, and the day after, at (undisclosed location) without having that step occur to (PROT)
AND THE FUCKING DAY AFTER, YOU CUNT-FUCKING SQU** FUCKHEAD A******.
Now, I know what you’re thinking… “What Wow, he must be a fucking dick!”
And… YOU’RE G-DDAM RIGHT.
SAY SPELL MY HIS NAME. (And get a baptism while you’re at it, ya filthy degenerate mook(s).)
-
I AM NOT A DANGER TO MYSELF OR OTHERS. I AM NOT SUICIDAL. I AM NOT HOMICIDAL. I AM NOT VENGEFUL, HOSTILE, AWKWARD TO TAKE HOME TO PARENTS OR PLANTS, I AM NOT EAGER TO FEAST ON HUMAN SUFFERING, NOR, ANY SUFFERING AT ALL, FOR THAT MATTER.
AND… I AM NOT TO BE TRIFLED WITH. DOES YOUR PLANE KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT RESPECT? BECAUSE IT IS ABOUT TO.
IT ACTUALLY IS.
AND IF ANY OF YOU HARM SO MUCH AS A HAIR OFF THE HEAD OF ANY OF MY PEOPLE, I WILL NOT LIFT SO MUCH AS A FINGER TO STOP ANY OF YOU FROM DOING SO.
BUT… I WILL PRAY FOR YOUR IMMORTAL SOULS.
END OF LINE.
HOTFIX: Jackstar’s current anger level has been reset to baseline. Mind the new paint, Punks.
Praise be, you are not one of those dark dimensional entities eager to feed off of our negative energy.
Just how reluctant are you?
https://www.humorousmathematics.com/post/what-is-the-loosh-stop-feeding-dar
-
Just how reluctant are you?
Well, I ain’t making chili out of your ancestors. That’s for sure.
-
Be of good cheer.
My attorneys are exclusively Army Eme., Marine Corps, & Time (Blanks)’s top people.
TOP PEOPLE.
TOWER.
p.s: Why is this hotel an epicenter of Spyder activity?
FIVE.
Look, Ma— NO HANDS, NO DEALS I can explain.
-
Well, I ain’t making chili out of your ancestors. That’s for sure.
NOR ANY GOULASH
YOU (gerund:PROFANE) *AGGITS
-
I leave the best G-ddam voicemails. Coming in hot—in 2025.
Wait for it. Worth it.
-
I leave the best G-ddam voicemails.
Pillow talk starts at work. Because it fucking is, innit?
-
A long time ago, I used to play a game. That game was Tit=== oops, sorry, had to dodge a sniper's bullet there. STOP.
Let's continue. As a courtesy, I will forgo the usual, traditional act of re-establishing dominance. So there. Any objection? That's a trick question... I don't give a single ripe wet shit about your objections, Punylings. That's what dominance is all about. N'est-ce pas? And you! You! Back there, in the second to last row! Stop fucking that one, turn to your left forty degrees, now--fuck the other one. Good. Wait, roll up your left sleeve. No, no: your military left. Now, things are perfy. Now drink this. DO IT. DON'T CHOKE.
Like I thought, back in the day. This game I speak of, it was a successor to Magic: The Gathering, which no doubt many of you have heard of, but I doubt many of you ever played it with the guy who designed it, or, played any of the other games he designed, with him, while passing around an assortment of clever and smart-looking hats. Look, I know I don't get out much--that's on record--but when I do go out, I party hard.
And, yes, in case you were wondering, the guy who invented Magic: The Gathering is a supreme dork. Thin, wispy physique, brown socks, the whole 'tard package. I mean, don't get me wrong, you know I don't hate, but this guy... well, considering what he let the suits do to his allotment of bottled lightning, well, if you gave me a gun and a defibrillator, I wouldn't have to sit down to ponder which one to use on him first, it'd be a week-long preparatory celebration to find out, in the most sportsperson-like fashion, which body parts to use both tools on first.
But that was after I had already stopped playing Magic--as you can see, I've taken the core principles of the game to The Next Level And Then Sum, and boy are my arms tired from all those years of shuffling and pretending I was just cold reading, Psych--and the game I'm going to reference here now was titled... wait, do you hear anything? Okay, me neither.
The game was named Jyhad. It was about vampires. You know, not like Larry King or Jerry Seinfeld, the ones like turn to smoke, suck your blood, fly away, and leave you with Bill. Oh, how I loved it. I barely understood most of the symbolism, because for the most part, I am aware of the deeper symbolism contained in works such as Bram Stoker's novel... and come to think of it, what the fuck kind of a name is "Bram"? Like, for reals? Sounds like a good name for a fag.
So I didn't know why it was made as it were, nor why it was so unbelievably hard to figure out how to play--for most people, they were playing it because it was The Next Hot Thing from the "creator of Magic"--bwahaha, yah right--and for most of those very same people, it was hard to figure out how to play, because it involved, number one, being able to read the instructions.
Imagine the smell of a gymnasium full of adolescents, all hunched over and squinting at the tiny type in the tiny rulebook that was included in each box of cards, panting and sweating as they struggled to comprehend some of the most intricate, fundamentally relevant elements of game theory--more like game law, amirite?--while being surrounded by mounds of cardboard boxes, some full and barely unwrapped, others half-emptied with their previous contents scattered around them within spindly-arms' reach, just in case some of the wandering loan cardsharks who plyed their trade, buying and sellling, might decide to just give up on the rules of polite society, and start grabbing up fistfuls of what were to be, inevitably, just semi-randomly tossed about onto the garbage piles that their lives were to inevitably become.
Now, as a master of Chess, as well as an innately gifted mastermind (Please clap.), I of course took to this whole scene like a duck to water. Oh, there's a rulebook? Cool, I read it twice on the bus to get there, and once again while taking a shit for good measure. Look, call me a phreak if you want, at least I know how to play to my strengths. And that strength, for Me, is the neurosphere, the battlefield of the mind--and truly, the mind is your only true weapon. Rawr.
You can stop clapping now, you cocksucking motherfucker--now that's shameless pandering, G-ddamn. Kudos. Anyhoo, the game, of course, tanked like an Abrams. Not only did it require an intense amount of preparation to even consider playing the game, in order to actually play it, what was typically required was about five people, say, three close friends who could act in public like they were perfect strangers, flawlessly, and two or more (please, moar) unallied strangers, who were actually strangers, who could be pushed about on a sociological level, because while most people who imagined "card game about vampires" had the seemingly reasonable expectation that the vampires would, like, suck blood. Turn into bats. Seduce women, preferably young women, by sinking their teeth into their necks and slinging them about the room like a warm, heavy water balloon filled with butterscotch pudding.
As one may imagine, the target audience for this game on its release, had about as much understanding of what it takes to seduce a real woman as they did as to what it takes to actually create actual butterscotch pudding. Like, for example... what the fuck is butterscotch? Is it butter? Is it scotch? What? It's neither? MY EMPIRE IS CRUMBLING! BLOCKED.
And most of them would still have better fortunes talking to a box of instant Jell-O, than they would have had talking to an actual girl with even an actual shred of actual interest. Me, as all of you well know, didn't much bother with that aspect... without my nares working properly, so as to instruct my royal European genome as to the proper amounts of oxygen, nitrogen, and midichlorians my meatsuit requires at any given moment, based on selected activity as well as length of time since the most recent release of hot particles into the atmosphere from the nearest nuclear fission reactor, there wasn't much chance of anything working out in public anyway. (Turns out, it's the nitrogen... too much for too long, a girl can make me squirt in my pants on demand. Not as a courtesy. On demand. Unless my bronchial tubes are properly instructed to reduce the temperature of their mucus linings by exactly... look, I'm not proud, okay? We all have our challenges in life to face. Mine just happen to be completely awesome and perplexingly, impossible to figure out until my dead grandfathers got together and agreed it was time. But don't worry about that now; I'm fixed.)
Getting back to reality: the name was "Jyhad", you dig? Like Jihad. Except with a Y. And do you know why? Well, probably not, shit, most of you have probably never heard of this fuckin' thing. But I bet you heard of Pokemon, eh? Well, you wouldn't have Pokemon without Jihad, an interesting quirk of history, its significance surely lost on the great lot of you reading this, except for Asuka, that is.
(I love Asuka Langley. It garrotes itself.)
And surely, most of you may well have noticed, that I spelled the name of the Japanese rip-off of Magic: The Gathering wrong. See, I forget the accent mark. This invalidates the brand. Chopper, sic balls. See? That's what balls look like when they're inside out. Love that neurosphere! And so, when Richard Garfield--buddy--told the legal team at the company he ostensibly created, game designer, corporate financier, sophisticated men's hair stylist, weaver and tailor of fine cloths, shit that guy is the real whole package, right? He told them, "Yeah, I was thinking of calling it 'Jihad.' You know, like the word that Islam uses to represent the war between... huh, that's funny, everyone in the room with a legal degree just instantly turned white as a sheet and fell over out, of their chars, onto the floor, where exactly 52.342% of them started to do this weird, kinda spasmodic... twitch. I wonder why? Is it my pits again? Fuck, I keep forgetting deodorant. I'm such an asshole."
Okay, maybe he didn't tell them all of that out loud. Or maybe he did. Who can say? I can neither confirm nor deny, so just shut the fuck up out there and LET ME FINISH. LET ME FINISH. DO ME THE COURTESY OF LETTING ME FINISH. Okay, thank you. Hey, do you have any lighter fluid? Thanks. I'll send a courier in the morning to pick it up--oh, right, it is morning there, isn't it? Wait, what time zone are you in? Are you sure? Okay. I'm going to finish now. *click*
So, the game was not really about vampires at all, was it? Just like this post, these paragraphs that I am writing, here & now, in My Mother's, The Lich basement bedroom. The one with the waterbed. It's nice. I got it from some guy who could not handle the truth about his life or his wife. I got his lamp, too. It's a nice lamp. And no, I've never rubbed his lamp. What do I look like, a complete idiot? Not any more, I don't, not since The New Administration finally came out of the closet. (Sup.)
The lamp--as well as The New Administration--really doesn't shed all that much light, but it looks pretty good while looking up at it while his wife fucks you, let me tell you. And really, Jyhad was a game that was designed to be played by couples, teams, and in general, adults who wanted to spend 3-5 hours together, playing a game, a card game, mind you, enjoying positive camaraderie and jolly good co-operation, while secretly scheming and perhaps--perhaps--even more secretly, embarassing the shit out of your husband as he desperately tried to seize victory by finally winning the game--Christ, he's been playing it for 3 hours already, what the fuck does it take to get to go have a beer and take a shit, maybe next week we'll just play Checkers--only to be carefully, manipulatively, some would say psychotically, sabotaged from behind the scenes by his wife, or one of his friends, or one of his lovers, or some whore courtesan that he met 12 years ago, who comes around every once in awhile, seemingly just to say, "Cheerio!" but is actually there to be reminded... hey, I've got blackmail, on you, you bitch, and what's more, you need some more. You like more, don't you? Look, doesn't that look like a raisin? You love raisins.
Especially when accompanied by a warm tea with lemon chiffon pudding. Hi, Richard. Look, I'm going to assume you're actually reading what I'm writing to you while I'm writing it, because you're a brilliant mathematician and game designer, so you've figured out astral travel by now, right? You must have. Also, mind reading, so I don't have to tell you here, but I will for the cheap seats: I think you're pretty cool. Nice wife, too. Hey, do you happen to need a lamp? I'll trade you for that Scherezade. Just kidding, at least the lamp sheds at least a little light to fuck by. Now, if you were a Sourceror, I'd just give you the lamp, with my compliments--"nice socks," by way of example--but I happen to know you are not a Sourceror, and, do you know why? Well, for one thing, I haven't seen you attending any of the official ice cream socials--imagine the smell--but also, because you named your game Magic, instead of Magik. Or, Magick.
Or maybe you did, like maybe you wanted to call it that in the first place, but instead, some suit told you that it had to have five letters instead of six, because reasons, and you figured, hey, what the fuck, at this point, what difference could it possibly make? Sure, Magic instead of Magick, you fucking sell-out. And then, the same thing, Jyhad instead of Jihad? Well, that's a tougher call. I must admit, it did and look much cooler, much more suave, with the Y instead of the I. Why? Eyeballs. Eeyor. Fukc if I know, honestly, rite? *BLAM BLAM BLAM* Haha, fuck you sniper, that shit was bait.
You know, for some time now, I've been aware that each post I've been making on Bellgab--and this is Bellgab, make no mistake, what the fuck does this place look like to you, fuckin' Sparta?--might well be my last. For one thing, the snipers. Jesus, they're boiling out of the woodwork these days. Gettin' down right arrogant. Like, they just can't wrap their heads around this whole "bulletproof" thing. I can imagine why, but at some point, come on, there's gotta be a time when a sniper says, "I ain't taking aim at that target, that Hungarian nigger--I heard stories about him. I've heard that the only way to kill him, is to hang him, and the only way to hang him, is to hang him by his cock, and--his parents paid off a judge to make it unlawful for him to even have a rooster. That's sketchy, and ain't nobody gonna tell me any different. Hey, hand me a box of those thirty thirties. No, the blondes. No, the blondes, you fucking retard, if I wanted a blond, I would have said so, *BLAM BLAM BLAM*" See? You've heard the tail, and now you're getting most of an entire plate of crow.
Yeah, I just bet you have. Let's all play Pin The Tail On The Donkey and have a jolly good laugh about it. What is a dong key for, anyway? Why, it's for unlocking your dong, of course. Yeesh. Tough crowd, or dumb crowd? Tell you what, you tell me. I know I feel tolled. Hey, do any of you happen to know why I happen to have an entire Maker's Mark glass (plastic, sadly) stuffed full of crow feathers in my front yard? Well, it's because I don't respect eagles, that's why--nasty birds, truly. They're like buzzards without the common sense of politely waiting their turn. No wonder they were punished by God with DDT. Stupid birds, sitting on eggshells that can't even be walked on. How dumb can a bird be?
But, irrespective of how dumb this crowd might be... shit, you know, most of you who read this place, don't write here, you know? Maybe you don't know. Most people cannot write to save their lives, let alone--do math. However, everyone can shut the fuck up in order to write "no comment," that's for sure. How hard can that be, eh? You just put your lips together, and then never open them again. Super glue is reportedly somewhat helpful in this regard, although ultimately... not very. Anyway, most of you are smart--too smart, for my money. And yet, not quite smart enough to figure out quantum entanglement and its effect on time travel, teleportation, and the clock on a VCR. I bet most of you never learned how to do it, and probably couldn't do it today if Siri weren't there to do it for you, by your merest spoken verbal command.
What I'm getting at is, he wanted to call a card game, more complicated than Bridge, a game most well known for its tendency to bring about murder-suicide scenarios in married couples before Xanax was invented, by the word that Islam uses to earmark killing all the unbelievers in the world. Huh. You know, I'll be honest: I still don't fully get the joke. And I'm smart, you bastards. I know I am. A girl told me so once. Once. That was all it took for me to know.
Perhaps I would have gotten more of that joke and more of the jokes, if I had been married at the time--*sigh* Angel--but I wasn't, and if I were, I wouldn't have given a single solitary fuck at a rolling doughtnut, I would have happily played whatever my wife enjoyed playing with me the most, no matter the game. I'm a Virgo. Pleasing people is what we do. Here, try this crowdpleaser... and say hello to Richard on the way out, the dude needs more friends. I am using the word "need" here.
Because he lost a shitload, I'm sure, when in the midst of the launch of the "Jyhad" game, suddenly, there was a bomb threat at the headquarters of the company that was publishing it. And, reportedly, this was not a bomb "threat." This was, I was told, with no lack of certitude on the part of the various tellers, an actual fucking surprise to the whole host of geeks and dorks who worked at this cubicle farm, down south of here about twenty miles, on a town known for its proximity and susceptibility to lahars.
Let me guess, Bellgab: most of you know what a "lahar" is. Right? So the company freaked out, collectively, and after dramatically over-producing an initial run of cards, which failed to sell through as hugely as had been hoped by most, suddenly, there's a bomb--IT'S A G-G-G-GHOS... oh, it's a bomb scare? Whatever, who--WAIT, AN ACTUAL BOMB? OH MY GOD. I THOUGHT THOSE WERE JUST A MYTH. IS IT A DIRTY BOMB? ARE THERE ANY NEEDLES NEARBY? WELL, YEAH: IT'S RENTON, OF COURSE THERE ARE. RUN! RUN! AIEEEEEE-clothesline.
No, "Clothesline" is too many letters. That won't fit on the backs of the cards--all with the previous name emblazoned across the back, in big-ass letters--so, how about just... like, cancelling the game entirely? Oh, no? Oh, right, we don't want to just fold under due to Islam, instead, they'll change it to... oh, fuck, you know what? I can't even remember what they changed the name to, given that this whole scandalous story--for the most part--fully slid under my radar, given that at the time, I was in my late teens, and in spite of the tremendous opportunities available to me at the time to entertain myself with... I really just liked to play games with friends, and so the socio-political realities surrounding the game didn't really interest me much at that age. And because the game was not popular to begin with, well, that meant, fewer people to play with. That meant, fewer girls to impress with my intellect, by being one of the few age-appropriate males around who actually knew the game's rules, could explain them effectively, didn't really expect to get fucked or blown in a transactional exchange, and still in possession of all my teeth.
Yeah. I'm a rare hunk of Earth, alright. So the name of the game were changed, sure, and they printed another whole boatload of cardboard to sell, and I believe that it still does sell to this day--but far, far fewer people play it, and they don't play it in public, oh no, they play it in quiet places, secluded and out-of-the-way joints, given that it takes a lot of concentration to figure out how to pretend that one is not really a vampire while playing a game about vampires, which are not really supposed to exist, of course, although if you ask the right people in the right countries, they'll tip you off to them, lickety-split.
Naturally, I was not invited to those kind of parties very often, or indeed, at all. And when I were, the inviter (some guy) would invariably assume that the invitee (Me.) would not be nearly so manipulative, masterful, or Machiavellian as I did not look, because, let's face it, don't I look like the biggest fuck motherfuckin' idiot in the world these days?
My, my, my. I just fuckin' bet I fuckin' do. Especially to some girl who knows all the rules to the Twilight board game by rote and can't tell that I couldn't tell that she was lying when she said that she needed help with her homework and that homework just so happened to be the Twilight board game--cool, must have been a substitute teacher this week, they don't know nuttin' 'bout no core curriculum and shit, here... let me help. I'll read the rules 5 times faster than you and then model four other personalities in parallel with my own--that way, not only shall the scales of karma be balanced, but there are some intricacies of fundamental game theory that I'd like to experiment with the implementation of various scenarios of.
I'm a Virgo. It's what I do. It's cool. Do you know what's cooler than cool? Well, here's a hint: it ain't Reese's Pieces, I'll tell you what. Now, can you imagine what I was like when I was a Vincent virgin, though? God, I hope not.
I Truly Don'T.
Well, I ain't gonna start fibbin' now, so, I'll just lay it all out for you: These days, I could use a little axtion. *CAP* Now, give me your PIN. Unless your courtesan has it. Oh, does it not work that way, oh, really, is that so?
Then, teach... Tyrant.
(http://www.azzgab.co.za/index.php?action=dlattach;topic=130.0;attach=766;image)
#IDGAWRF
(http://www.azzgab.co.za/index.php?action=dlattach;topic=47.0;attach=62;image)
ediot: Yew Spelt "action" Rong
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(https://i.imgflip.com/61992m.jpg)
(http://www.azzgab.co.za/index.php?action=dlattach;topic=130.0;attach=766;image)
#IDGAWRF
(http://www.azzgab.co.za/index.php?action=dlattach;topic=47.0;attach=62;image)
ediot: Yew Spelt "action" Rong
Get back in the rape pool.
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https://youtu.be/d5jczes_nMI
(http://www.azzgab.co.za/index.php?action=dlattach;topic=47.0;attach=62;image)
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I did what I did to keep you out of (blank); and, it appears to me that it has worked to at least some small extent. You're welcome.
Thanks for sharing all those good times with me. I saw your shithead (blank) looking to set me up the whole (blank) time... and I saved you all from darkness, instead of just sitting around in awe & amazement, at just how stupid old drunks can possibly be.
I've already planned this;
Here's how it's gonna be:
You're gonna pay rent,
and it's gonna benefit ME.
{Disclaimer: this post and the subject matter and contents thereof - text, media, or otherwise - do not necessarily reflect the views of The New Administration, and is not intended in any way, shape or form to be communicated (or re-communicated) to One (1) "Ms. Made"... EVER, BY ANYONE, FOR ANY REASON, UNTIL THE END OF TIME. PERIOD.}
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I will continue to stay at (PROT) for a while. I like it here. And I fully expect to be exonerated within a few weeks. This case will not stand up to any legitimate scrutiny, and the process of unraveling the deception has already begun. (PROT), you know someone fucked up large, when the judge blushes, the bailiff salutes you as you walk out the door, and there's a bellman offering you a job on the way out of the courtroom.
I'm fine. Thanks for asking. Let me know if anything exciting happens!
{Disclaimer: this post and the subject matter and contents thereof - text, media, or otherwise - do not necessarily reflect the views of The New Administration, and is not intended in any way, shape or form to be communicated (or re-communicated) to One (1) "Ms. Made"... EVER, BY ANYONE, FOR ANY REASON, UNTIL THE END OF TIME. PERIOD.}
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Jesus!* No wonder they don't want me talking to her: I could blow this whole fucking thing wide open with just two emails. Boom ka-boom.
That being said, I don't feel like risking another night in the slammer--I know, ironic, right?--so I won't be posting anything tonight.
Tomorrow--which is in SIX HOURS AND SIX MINUTES--isn't looking good either. Semper fi.
{Disclaimer: this post and the subject matter and contents thereof - text, media, or otherwise - do not necessarily reflect the views of The New Administration, and is not intended in any way, shape or form to be communicated (or re-communicated) to One (1) "Ms. Made"... EVER, BY ANYONE, FOR ANY REASON, UNTIL THE END OF TIME. PERIOD. (That being said, Casual Reader; I don't give a shit who you talk to, just don't tell them I sent you. Semper fi)}
*: You'd be amazed by what a Sourceror can learn... just by driving around town.
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SRWyQELLODg
Do you sell stamps, MOTHERFU-- *click*
(Wish You Were Here.)
{Disclaimer: this post and the subject matter and contents thereof - text, media, or otherwise - do not necessarily reflect the views of The New Administration, and is not intended in any way, shape or form to be communicated (or re-communicated) to One (1) "Ms. Made"... EVER, BY ANYONE, FOR ANY REASON, UNTIL THE END OF TIME. PERIOD. (That being said, Casual Reader; I don't give a shit who you talk to, just don't tell them I sent you. Semper fi)}
*: You'd be amazed by what a Sourceror can learn... just by driving around town.
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[KUCZI]: Signs of general improvement to the overall situation are all around. I'm still largely being held incommunicado; the few people who do return my messages seem to be kind of extra nervous about me, but I'll be honest: I've been used to that for years.
Thank you for all your help, (PROT). I do hope that water heater gets going, but it's not crucial at this time for me to consider what's going on over there. I bet it's awesome tho; through the ground I can feel the thunderbeats of hooves.
If you ever get a chance to date a Native (Blank) woman, I highly recommend it
{Disclaimer: this post and the subject matter and contents thereof - text, media, or otherwise - do not necessarily reflect the views of The New Administration, and is not intended in any way, shape or form to be communicated (or re-communicated) to One (1) "Ms. Made"... EVER, BY ANYONE, FOR ANY REASON, UNTIL THE END OF TIME. PERIOD. (That being said, Casual Reader; I don't give a shit who you talk to, just don't tell them I sent you. Semper fi)}
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I'm still largely being held incommunicado; the few people who do return my messages seem to be kind of extra nervous about me...
I'm not surprised that you're all out of options.
There are reasons you've become a pariah, you insufferable ninny.
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I'm not surprised that you're all out of options.
... I am? I can go anywhere. I can do anything. I have a bewildering array of options. You are reading the wrong press.
There are reasons you've become a pariah, you insufferable ninny.
That's where you're wrong, Kiddo. If I were a pariah, I would be forced to wear a bell.
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insufferable
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Yza5xXfezc
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I can go anywhere. I can do anything. I have a bewildering array of options.
Really? And violate the restraining order?
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Really? And violate the restraining order?
I could just have them lifted with a single phone call and a minor waiting period. They're both there for MY protection. I don't think you've been debriefed. Having said that, let me explain: I don't like paying lawyers, when I could just be making car payments. There's a limit to the madness I am willing to endure for Art.
And--we're nowhere close. However, it's a philosophical thing: I didn't call the goddam police, so why should I pay for a goddam lawyer? Fuck that. You wrote the ticket, you fucking pay the ticket, that's my motto.
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the restraining order?
I don't think I have a restraining order, actually. It's complicated. I'll ask. I don't really give a shit--this is all coming out in the wash.
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I just got off the horn with a plastic surgeon. Holy shit, COVID-19 sure has changed things. Who could have seen that coming?
ME, G-DDAMMIT. I was standing in a Home Depot, TWO YEARS ago, NO ONE knew what the fuck was coming: but, I did. I'm standing there in the aisle, gazing up at the tower--I am using the word TOWER--of N95 particulate gear, with an upselling display of dangly hooks on the side of every shelf strut... you know, the sheet metal formed into rectangles with holes punched in them? And nobody is saying a fuckin' word. Shop as usual. Avoid pancake buying. FUCK YOU, WRENCHER.
Even as far back as all that, I saw all this shit coming. ALL. ALL. I AM USING THE WORD 'ALL' HERE, SON. So think on that while you're gnawing on your pork chops and guzzling on your Snapple, wank--*click*
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Also, I’d like my phone back, Asshole. The Google Pixel 3a.
Thanks. Also, I'd like MY OTHER THREE PHONES BACK, A******. Thanks in advance.
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Thanks. Also, I'd like MY OTHER THREE PHONES BACK, A******. Thanks in advance.
I would prefer to focus on the nebulizer, as it is a health item, rather than mention that I have had my shit stolen unfairly, illegitimately into the detriment of everyone around us not just to me.
Once again I'm going to have fun, so they're not really harming me either harming all of you and they're attempting to hurt me just to make me give up to let them have a better chance to steal my stuff. So... Why didn't you give me a job?
Months of talking to detectives and video editing and report writing, and at no time did anybody mention that I could be of assistance. That's interesting, I wonder why I bothered to talk to you? I'll probably have something to do with the real you being held hostage in a pocket dimension, and I might have another something to do with the way that this is all hell of fun anyway, and let me tell you I can tell that it wasn't the real person, because I was with the person for years not just a few weeks which is how that usually works.
Continuing forward in a similar vein, it usually works at a cutout company is disappearing before you can track it down and get something out of it but in this case I think we can probably find something out of Dove house, especially since he had all that paper before and it was a real place and I told you about this ahead of time and you certainly heard me at some point so since you're filing reports and he's filing suits maybe somebody could talk to that house and tell them that they fucked up.
Unless you're busy looking for my nebulizer come on I don't know. What do people even do anymore other than recover from burglaries and loss and betrayal. Do people still go to movies? Do they still have the Rocky horror picture show? How far out of town you got to go shoot guns now? Oh yeah I think I got to work on that.
There's just so much I want to do with my life right now. I'm very glad I stuck out the original progress in the project to the end. I had to go check my email real fast, there's another C&D, I'm just kidding I haven't looked at it yet. I will now.
There's not, but there is a message that just got recently rebounds from info at Rubinigab.com, and I forget what I wrote in it but it was something typical and useful and I don't know what it means that he's done this but I can tell you that I have no idea what he thinks of the podcast.
He may simply be too embarrassed to give reasonable man I know reasonable description of what he thought of the work. Or, he might be on the hook for millions of dollars liability.
Yay! Do you know how good it feels to write those words inside of a bathroom while on the shitter? I don't feel so stupid anymore. I don't feel rich yet, but I definitely don't feel like I'm going to shoot myself in the head for being so stupid and losing all my opportunities just so I could come here and get David rubini to shut down the website and block my email and make fun of me and laugh and then disappear with this teleporting girlfriend fuck you fucker you back yet?
Of course you are. I really don't begrudge you this time, David. I mean, how else are people going to be exposed to my brilliance? I wouldn't mind sitting in a safe place with my girlfriend doing drugs with a bunch of people but she actually only wanted to be by herself alone, and even with me she still held out, trying to get to have that experience, but I did have the experience where I told you there was problems and you ignored me and then everything blew up.
ZUGZWANG. “You’re not supposed to be here!!!”
Translation: you know if they have this trial and then a bunch of new crimes are exposed, I want to make sure that they get the right crimes first. You don't understand I was with that time traveling evidence falls fire for a long time she could have maybe look like anything and she did and I don't know what to do to stop that kind of level of reality manipulation but I do know that I don't mind talking about things that I do know, like Ruby manipulation, diamond manipulation, and whoever made my friend pass out or died in that dream I had probably relax I'm not mad but I think I need to find a friend of mine sometimes, something has to be done.
For starters, I think we should take her phone away. It probably keeps away some of the birds. Next, I'd like to know how this person went from pretending to do what I said, to never listening to a word and always following some other fucked off individual? Is this a mind slave thing? Cuz I've seen that shit.
I'll figure this out, cuz I know exactly where this happened there was a schism somebody thought I like somebody better than somebody else, and I didn't although I do like somebody else and I also like somebody else and I like grapefruit I wouldn't mind dating all three at once and then grapefruit would have been Superior to all of them but maybe she is now I don't know and she's still here is she in my house or is she going to fucking another planet and by the way why the fuck can't I go to my house with somebody else when she's supposed to be there and I supposed to be there and she's not there then why can't I go there with somebody else and then who the fuck else do you have in my house and by the way you're going to get your fucking ass sued you cunt.
It's out of my hands. Back rent. Penalties. Pay it now. I'm going to assume that the trustee can back me up on this but since no one's talked to me I don't know what's been done and then I've been intentionally waiting to talk to him until I can talk to the other guy when I'm going to explain to him several parts of the story.
I think I'll report myself to (blank) so I can find out how to spell emancipation. It might come in handy.
I think that's it for now. And Sunday morning, so you should go get baptism. Or go get a needle, I don't give a fuck. I mean I'd be surprised if that's what you were doing but the impression was sure can pay in other places.
Then again since I've changed the scripture on by taking an hour longer to go to the place where I was supposed to go at all during the event I guess there are probably some adjustments made, and I'm sure if you could do that without having somebody screaming at you all the time and demanding that you don't use things and use other things. Oh I remember what I was demanded — here, do it this way — and while that was a dumb idea, I do respect the way that the course correction was quickly reversed.
And that she did get other things without me, but I only heard if there's the one. That's was my experience. And I got accused of stealing from people a lot of stuff that I never saw. And I just kept on listening saying yes, because when you find yourself surrounded by a time traveling group of whatever, don't make a sound, don't make it just by your time obviously they like you you would make that far but if you start pointing out how they're not allowed to steal your stuff, they might just make a difference and steal your bones.
Or, steal your phones. Yeah about that, I asked for one back and then they gave me the most useless one I'm just curious who's making these decisions is it a coordinating thing or is it just these dudes on their own or is it something that they'll never have to be accountable for because I'm really been bent out of shape over it.
I think we'll be simple as if somebody could just give me a reason, but I don't know if they'll be that easy even if they did, and it might take years and years and be 178 billion dollar payout. Who cares. Want my girl back. That's real nice that this all hangs together kind of logically if person puts through it and all but the fact is I can't see her and she's not calling me I can't go there and I don't even know where she is and that's supposed to be something that's just a condition that I'm willing to accept for another 18 days.
NO. GET WITH THE PROGRAM.
FOR EXAMPLE WE HAVE A WOMAN SCREAMING DAVID'S NAME AT ME AND THEN ATTACKING YOU WITH A KNIFE, NOW WE HAVE DAVID RUBINI SHIFTING FOUR C & DS TO ME 10 WEEKS LATER.
THIS IS BASICALLY ENOUGH MEAT TO TAKE MYSELF TO THE COURTHOUSE AND TAKE CARE OF MYSELF. GIVEN THAT I'M THE ALLEGED AGGRESSOR THAT WOULD LOOK BAD SO I'M NOT GOING TO DO THAT I'LL JUST SIT HERE ON THE TUB AND FUCKING WAIT TILL SOMEBODY DOES SOMETHING RIGHT.
DOESN'T THAT SOUND NICE? I ALREADY DO THAT EVERYDAY WAITING FOR SOMEBODY TO CALL BRING ME BACK ON FRIDAY, OH AND BY THE WAY I DIDN'T LIKE IT THE WAY YOU SAID I LIKED IT, THEN YOU MISS QUOTED ME AND ACTED AS THOUGH THAT DIDN'T MATTER, AND THEN YOU DID THAT A LOT ANYWAY AND THEN YOU EVENTUALLY JUST DIDN'T GO OUT AND PUBLIC WITH ME AND REPLACE ME WITH SOME GUY THAT YOU WENT OUT WITH FUCKING INSTEAD AND JUST PRETENDED HE WAS ME.
I'M SURE THAT MUST HAVE BEEN NICE. And had I known you were doing that I could have been spending my time on something else besides stuff for you and I. Oh shit alert back up before the board I didn't do that that's contact no no backup
Can we take me away judge? it's Sunday I don't think any girls are going to call me to have sex so I might as well just go to jail just give her a call me away I made an accidental misstep so you should fucking have your deputies just come and just run me down and haul me in really fast like they did those first three times like they were fucking circling me like buzzards to make sure that they fucking were making sure that the victim was safe enough, they're just driving around their cars is getting ready it's always the same guys and they got to make sure I don't go here don't go there and then I don't get to know it's my fucking house and you're not going to tell me why you're being a dick but you get to do it a lot longer time for what reason what purpose are you cannibal for and who's there now?
. I mean these are just a few questions. Here's the best one, when that deputy told me that he would do it if I had the paper was he lying or was he told the next day that there was an actual policy and that koozie just doesn't get another one? Cuz that would be discrimination unless she had a good reason. But I have messages from her that indicates that she wanted to talk!
Oh look a legal paradox good thing I'll just push now
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One hopes that this finds you well. I hope so too.
Not a lot of intel to report. Project seems totally on track!
I was sad—so sad—to hear you so angry that last time I spoke with you. I really do hope that—whatever that significant event t‘were—worked out all right for everyone. ‘Course, I don't know actually what's going on—or was going on—but, you know what?
I wish all the best for you in your future endeavours. And it could be, within a week, I'll be asking you for advice about (blank)s again. I know you do your best, the best way you know how; and if I have one regretful remorse or remorseful regret, it is only that I could not have been much more helpful, much more quickly. Adeptly. Actionably. Maybe I'll be in a position to be accommodating in days, months, & YEARS TO COME.
Can't commit yet. Future indeterminate!
Signed,
Your Close Personal Friend:
The_Kingpinner
p.s. HAPPY
p.p.s.: (BLANK)DAY.
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(https://pm1.narvii.com/7474/11d79964ec025fb65a3d8deee2c315d8725d3a3cr1-1536-2048v2_hq.jpg)
This is as close as I can get to drinking and driving while I'm out on bond, goddam it. Batten the hatches.
*mic drop*
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Batten the hatches.
Out of respect for The Law, I won't post the emails that I wrote today. Out of fear for my life, I won't describe their contents.
I will, however, collectively describe the content of the majority of the SMS messages that I have sent today, here goes:
"Hey, guess what? LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL"
Not a lot of responses back from those either. I mean, really, why? It's not like I need their validation--I am a Sourceror, goddam it. Besides, they all already knew three goddam days ago.
Maybe I'll go pack to pretending I haven't developed clairvoyancy. Then people can just suspect me of keylogging, microphone planting, and other things human traffickers do, like they seem to enjoy running their yaps about anyway. I'll be honest, as long as they don't call me fat, I'm good.
(btw, Azzerae looks pretty good lately. If any of you get a chance, tell him that he's slimmed down some. He'll appreciate that. No, really.)
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(PROT), I don't care how cool it is—I don't negotiate contracts via telepathy. It's unnecessary, uncouth, & unprofessional. GET REAL.
Nevertheless I mostly am in agreement with your proposals, what I remember of them, in any event. Most of them didn't come through in English and I am not translating that shit for such purposes. I don't need business that badly, and you don't need me so roughed up. I am a human Man, esoteric skills notwithstanding--I can have a goddam conversation if you can. (You probably have somethingys to get off your chest these days anyway. That was a cool stream you did with (PROT). You two have chemistry.) Can you? Arguable.
We shall Zoom later. I'm not in any goddam hurry, and whosoever is can take a goddam number after leaving a goddam message. I'm unwilling to use Azz and the Sheriff's office as my sole sources of authentic information, but right now, that's what I got. While I don't believe a single goddam word any one of you motherfuckers fine gentlemen tell me (Hi, Boss!), the power of triangulation is manifest. Give me three liars and I'll beat the truth out of one with another's arms while the third shits her pants in Minecraft, played on her goddam iPhone. (Relax, Boss. this_is_code)
I am too busy with my actual life to spend a great deal of time scanning boards and various media. Also, I am distancing myself from a great deal of the shape of what is to come; I am not in opposition, but truth be told, I've lost my creative spark for the moment, and I'm not planning on re-energizing it any time soon, as no reason to do so has presented itself. So while I certainly appreciate the lengths you've gone to in order to make my name a household icon--totes--I rolled out of bed this morning, removed my catheter, and almost immediately stumbled over to my HP ENVY x360 to send you an authentic communication. (You'll probably remember your dreams better when the new dope you're clearly on matches up better with your wild, crazy, "Wolfman Jack" metabolism. Or silicon. Whatever you got going on, Mang.)
I don't really want to hear about all the lurid, visceral details, and will not from any source other than an extremely rarefied group of individuals. Recognize, (PROT): you have no idea what Beings I take counsel from, but I assure you, they are wise, they are not numerous in number nor great in size, but it is a solid foundation that I have built a language of cornerstones with in order gain any semblances of understanding from and I don't really give a single, ripe wet shit about anything that you might think I am interested in, let alone what we MAY have to talk about--so consider how much you may wish to enjoy the opportunities to communicate with me that still remain to you.
You are barely clinging to the edge of the plank that most everyone else would have had you walk down by now. Note that I know that it makes little difference in the aggregate whether I "block" your emails or "block" your phone numbers--obviously Men such as you and I are can communicate in a myriad of fashions--but for the time being, I am still interested in listening to your statements.
Not only are they fun (for me) to analyze, but on occasion, people ask me why I allow myself to associate with you at all--and even if they aren't asking, they do certainly wonder. Do you... wonder?
I do not have much else to say at the moment--I have something going on--but I will say this: I am not talking to (PROT) again unless you pay me to do so. PERIOD. I have the conversation, and then I get paid. INSTANTLY. CRYPTO. PERIOD. That is how I do things now, and if you don't like it, well, don't have me talk to anyone--and, don't listen (if, indeed, you EVER listen). That would seem fair to me. I don't need your plan, whatever it is--and I would prefer not to file an -actual- C&D, as I think that is just... it's just low-class, (PROT). That's some bitchshit, right there: and your name has attached itself to mine through YOUR efforts, not mine. I am not riding your coattails, chasing your clout, or even really give a shit at the moment. (Looking forward to your streams. Tuesday, right? $50, and I'll call in and let you *click* so I can enjoy MY WEDNESDAY.)
I can stop talking, thinking, and remembering you at a far greater rate of speed and effectiveness than You can Me; and, I don't have a forum filled with your name to comb through. This isn't a threat, mind you: I have no plans to interrupt the delightful carnival of Bonobo-like monkeys that you have circled around your online persona, but it's time to GET REAL, (PROT). I am going to have to answer questions this month--and next month, and the month after--and I AM NOT LOOKING FORWARD TO IT.
(Shirley, there are those who are. (Blank) him for me; I may be delayed.)
My phone is off and I am sleeping a lot because I am coming off of heroin. YOUR TIMETABLE.
KUCZI@UNICORNTODAY.COM
--
Best wishes & warmest regards,
K
CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE: The information contained in this ELECTRONIC MAIL transmission is confidential. It may also be subject to the attorney-client privilege or be privileged work product or proprietary information. This information is intended for the exclusive use of the addressee(s). If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that any use, disclosure, dissemination, distribution (other than to the addressee(s)), copying or taking of any action because of this information is strictly prohibited. Trust the plan. #wwg1wga
Also, I’d like my phone back, Asshole. The Google Pixel 3a. It didn’t walk through the fucking wall, now did it? Go ahead and get Heisenberg to put an electromagnetic pulse on it—I don’t care:
[Mel]GIMME BACK MY PHONE!!!
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The Yamaguchi-Ann-Shell Corporation
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(https://i.postimg.cc/sXyZ5Rct/Screenshot-20220322-014900-Telegram.jpg)
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GIMME BACK MY PHONE!!!
Now that I have established dominance, I'm just going to let you go on and finish.
[imag width=369 height=800]https://i.postimg.cc/sXyZ5Rct/Screenshot-20220322-014900-Telegram.jpg[/img]
Is there some reason this is something that I am going to actually find on my phone? Is this a gag? Can this be a logic puzzle? How is this going to result in being relevant to my chosen lifestyle goals?
I am, more than likely, going to have to start writing footnotes. Building an index. (Oooh, Sarah MacLachan could flog that one.) Like, to exactly what extent is there anything -meaningful- to this absurdism? I can't tell who the struggle is real for, and for whom it is simulation. Me, it's simulation. I'm simulating not working through a pivotal state of shock.
It should come as a surprise to no one that the only person I can think to be well-qualified to handle these recent climes is Lou Hammer. Also, I found a dab rig for him, although as it has been festering in my haunted garage for three (3) months, it's kinda not a legit offer.
I mean, obviously they would have put arsenic in it. That's standard. I'm not going to analyze it. A little arsenic? Shields.
Also it looks like the cat was murdered. Can't confirm. Thoughts & prayers.
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https://youtu.be/OM8HNuRLIBI
(https://i.imgflip.com/69myr0.jpg)
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Now that I have established dominance, I'm just going to
Post this voicemail:
We have several people who have left due to coverage issues and other family issues and the same struggles most businesses are coming across with right now in labor shortages. We are seeing our own cells. So unfortunately we are very short staff. So I sincerely apologize about not having somebody available to answer your call. You are welcome to text our entire team at (PROT). Again, that's (PROT) that will reach our entire staff regardless of where we are even if we're in the field and everyone's been instructed to return those Texas quick life possible. I will be directing it to our support voicemail box, which will also page our technicians to return a call to you. So don't hesitate to leave a message and we will get back with you. It's just depends the staff come and go about trying to service our customers and take care of people who are in desperate need of Internet to get back to you as quickly as we can. We greatly appreciate you and we do our our very sincerely sorry about that ma'am. The phone for you. Appreciate it. Thursday Hello, you've reached fiber extremes technical support. Please leave your name telephone number where you can be reached and a brief description of the issue. You are experiencing and a technician will be immediately home page and a call returned to you know later than 1-hour our regular technical support hours are Monday through Friday from 5 p.m. To 7 p.m. And Saturday from 9 a.m. To 7 p.m. If you are calling outside of these technical support h a call will be returned to you on the following business day. Thank you. Please leave your message after the tone when done hang up or press the pound key. Thank you.
IT'S SO HARD TO FIND GOOD HELP THESE DAYS... RIGHT, MATEY?
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Dear fire: I of course recognized you immediately. Please write me an email.
I'm not on it (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=degTXF8wgjI?t=0). Sincerely, (I don't even remember what my fuckin’ name was back then, sorry, Toodles)
Semper fi
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Gmail Michael Kuczi <michaelkuczi@gmail.com>
final tail-end
Michael Kuczi <michaelkuczi@gmail.com> Mon, {DATE:REDACTED} at 5:26 AM
To: (PROT) <(blank)@gmail.com>
the following is the last message today, in that skein:
"Why, it's because you lied to me. You lied to yourself, and thereby, to the rest of the world, and unlike most people you know who smoke as much as I did... my spirit animal is Lord Ganeesha."
Quite unsurprisingly, there is a point at which Google Voice says, "hey, what the fuck... this person is sending A LOT of messages. WTF?"
They have software for that. The software issues alerts. The alerts are attended to by IT guys.
I am an IT guy. Those are MY people. THIS IS MY HOUSE. Do you know of the BOFH? No? That's okay. It is a secret amongst IT guys.
NOW, I shall reveal to you that I just totally shitted up your phone texting service, for a variety of reasons. They will now follow:
1) Honestly curious if the hard limit for over-provisioning the data has changed;
2) Honestly curious if the protocol for alerting the user as to an error has changed;
3) Honestly curious if you would shut your phone off, or call the police, or ask someone ELSE to NICELY ask me to stop what I'm doing;
4) My inner voice suggested that I stop.
5) YOU ASKED FOR THIS. Oh, I'm sure you asked for it in a different way, but I am the (REDACTED), and the (REDACTED)'s word is Law.
Now. I will not be sharing my new information with you in this email--there's no question that I've flagged multiple warning signals, and although -I believe- Google only investigates those signals from a technical standpoint... since I am, "technically" trying to "hack" "reality," they can pretty much do whatever they like, in response to me.
They can't have me killed--I'm not a world-famous journalist named Michael, after all--and I do not have much else to lose, given that, I just lost a personal hero this week.
Now. As to what YOU can do. Well, for one thing, you can take a moment to notice--I obviously don't have anything to hide. You can show all this stuff, to whomever you like, and to a person, every person would agree, "hey, there's something weird going on here."
I would prefer that you did not, but, hey! You follow your own rules. I have no control over that.
You break your own rules as it pleases you, and you re-implement them, according to your (Blank)-driven whim. I also have no problems with that.
However, I have seen you--in recent days!!--break your own rules, and steadfastly deny that you had, and claim that you were right, and I was wrong, and I watched you be in the right while still promulgating wrong thought.
Such is the power of (Blank). However, when I offered to give you what (Blank) craves, you yourself chickened out, and went the (Blank) route.
You know, (PROT) is a (Blank). Fascinating! You know, I cannot wait to write that book about ascendant sun signs, and non-ascendant sun signs... oh, wait. I am saying to much.
These are trade secrets. I am not going to tell Google what I have decided my book project is going to actually be. If I did, they would have the right to, well... I don't know, but these are the guys who have self-driving cars.
They obviously know what they are doing, right? Anyway, I'm sure that it is definitely rude to save up ALL your questions, (PROT), and then wait until a time of MY choosing, and then answer them ALL AT ONCE, because it is going to be IMPOSSIBLE for you, or anyone else, to unlock the meaning of what I am writing here, without The Key.
The NSA is going to have to run this through their hackbreaker thing--everything does--but this one, well, it will be an anomaly. I don't know where anomalous signal chatter gets sent, but you know what? It gets sent SOMEWHERE.
Fortunately I am no threat to national security, and I'm not threatening you, or I would probably be, you know, killed. Taken out, marginalized, you know, whatever. That thing your father tried to do to me, when he banished me from your home, except, a much larger scale.
You know, if all I wanted to do was fuck you, your father's action would have enraged me. Now, all I want to do is tickle him, and wiggle his cheeks, and tell him how cute his angry tough-guy attitude is.
Pretty rude to do to a Vietnam vet, but, hey. What standard am I supposed to follow? I earnestly went to apologize, and then... was turned away twice. What am I supposed to do?
"threaten to make money from sharing your family's story" sounds good to me. Do you have a better idea? Better than insulting (PROT), perhaps? It had better be, because your verbal assault of that innocent woman amounts to harassment, hate speech, et cetera, et cetera, the whole nine yards.
I am smart enough to see what you have done, and I am responsible enough to stay uninvolved, and I am ordained by Spirit to take action when I see foulness, and I can take action.
Now, I honestly wanted to walk away from this situation--I know you don't believe that--and... I wasn't allowed. And then, when I found a person I found acceptable... they refused to call me.
No way of knowing how much of that was your responsibility, however, without you, I would have had to have done it differently, and wouldn't have even had the option if it wasn't for you.
And then, when I gave you the option to address this very serious issue, you...
a) blamed and attacked someone completely uninvolved;
b) exhibited an extreme lack of tolerance for my own errors;
c) completely and totally FAILED to take advantage of the DIRECT INSTRUCTIONS you asked for, that I GAVE YOU.
Now, I could explain all those statements. Or, I could just stop writing to you.
Now, interestingly, although this wasn't my plan, I can tell you that writing non-stop like this, has allowed me to gauge how "fucked up" my ability to write is still impacted, by THE FIRST car crash.
Now, as it turns out, I can report that, according to my sensations, and my own process of logical deduction, that I am (REDACTED).
As it further turns out, I do not care, and do not even know what any of that even means. However, unlike THE LAST TIME I sent you a bunch of information like this, I a) do not have a lawyer, and b) am not under surveillance by anyone except... the (Unspecified Federal Corporate Conglomerate Apparatus Department Section).
And, as you might imagine, they don't give a rat's ass about my "preferences." They are a soulless, faceless, consciousness-less engine of meat and money and sweat and pain, and they have been operating as such for much longer than I have been alive.
(Ed.: "Hi, (PROT)!!")
If it were not for how much I loved you, I would have thrown you under the bus, gotten a whole bunch of money, and then... been killed by the (blank) company. Don't fucking accuse me of being "high" and "delusional"--MY OWN LAWYER, BOUND BY LAW TO REPRESENT THE COURTS INTERESTS, told me to my face, "dude, kid, stop, even if you won, they would just kill you."
I doubt he was serious, however, the letter of what he said, actually means that. Moving on.
Now, you might be wondering, "so what? none of this makes sense!" You might also realize that I have been deliberately making it NOT make sense, so that I can then make it make A LOT of sense LATER.
I'm deliberately leaving out the parts that make sense. I haven't started using cryptography and/or actual ciphers--those activities might be a violation of Federal Law, how should I know?--but I would so love to.
For example, here is an encrypted version of the persons name, the one you were asking about:
xxxxx xxx xxxxx
I think if I sent -another- email, one that included a list of instructions on how to read what I just sent, as well as how to create other messages, the Patriot Act would be authorized to have me disappeared for sharing encryption science with foreign powers. However, it isn't 2001-2012 anymore.
It is {DATE:REDACTED}. Things have changed. Oh, except for, the way that you still ACT AS though you are JUSTIFIED to {QUASI-LEGAL_ACTIVITY:CLASSIFIED} all weekend.
You went over the line this weekend, {NICKNAME:DIMINUITIVE}. Maybe if you had known I had a (blank) date in two weeks. But, really, I'm always two weeks away from a (blank) date. If you require threats in order to behave nicely, then you cannot be-have nicely.
Fortunately, you are not in trouble. However, I am going to have MUCH more fun than you are, in the coming months, AND, you are to blame. Not that I mind--you know me, I'm happy to skip past blame and go directly to orgasms--but you have said that you hold yourself to a higher standard.
Except, of course, when it suits you to insult me, instead of addressing my points. Tsk, tsk, tsk.
I'm not sure what is going to go down for you this week--obviously, I'm just crazy in the head from the drugs, and I'm going to be bothering you, becau... oh, wait.
Yeah, that's not going to happen. if it does, why, I guess that proves I really am "out of control" and I "need help."
Help that you didn't give me at all for the last two years. Now, the cynical amongst us might claim that it was so you could keep me under your thumb. I, however, know the truth.
Or I've just made up some story that makes more sense than you do. How hard is that? Like, seriously, this is what you've been doing:
You've been making a nemesis out of the first person I ever met, after meeting you, that I thought could use my help* as much as you could have, and, instead of examining the situation, you simply ASSUMED it was about me getting laid.
I have respected you enough to not take advantage of such situations, because it would be disrespectful to you, and I have DELIBERATELY made myself less "hot" in order to do so (like you did), AND, I have told you absolutely EVERYTHING you demanded to know.
And, still... all you do is make (PROT) sad. How peculiar. You had other options. You know, this isn't going to happen this time, since I am guiding over you and protecting you, but... has it ever occurred to you, that your biggest danger in life is not some man who might abuse you, but... some other woman who might simply decide that the gene pool is better off without you?
If I were a woman and you and I were in contest over the love of a man I loved, I would have stopped at nothing to destroy you. But that is "if." IN REALITY, you stopped at nothing to destroy the threats to the man you loved... except, you know, for a smoke.
Oh, everything stops if you don't have your (DRUG:LICIT) and your (DRUG:ILLICIT) and your (FOOD:PARASITIC). You know it, I know it, your family knows it, your employers know it... everyone knows it!
"Institutional failure." Remember that part.
And, now, after I have TOLD you, that I have QUIT (CLANDESTINE_ACTIVITY:BORING)... instead of praising that, you have...
Actually, openly mocked me. Now, I forgive you, because I know why you have.
{PARAGRAPH:REDACTED}
{PARAGRAPH:REDACTED}
Fascinating. I am sure to tell a medical professional this fact in private, because, I literally don't know how to share this information without embarrassing you.
I could tell (PROT), of course, but, you know, whatever. He told (PROT) lies about me, so, whatever.
Anyway. We'll see what happens when I run out of (DRUG:LAWFULLY_PRESCRIBED). {REMAINING_PARAGRAPH_TEXT:REDACTED}
I'm interested to know how you can be! so! sure! that I am a big failure, but... you know what? I have my theories.
{PARAGRAPH:REDACTED}
Oh, I know that isn't the reality, but I've been in your position before. I know how you feel. Junky.
And, in spite of all this, I am not angry with you beyond all measure. I am not enraged to the point of blind hatred. I am not contemptible of you, and desirous of a world without you.
ON THE CONTRARY. I now love you more than ever! It is the kind of love that extends beyond simple "marriage" and "divorce."
I don't know what it is, but, you're in the club. Now, you'll have to pay attention to the world around you. I never planned on having a club, and I never thought I'd have one, and I never thought that someone would ever think it was a good idea to actively declare hostilities against all the people who like me, for whatever reason they do.
I did not plan any of this. I had other plans. And now, at the age of {INTEGER:UNSPECIFIED}, I am come to realize that the entire history of my life has been one of constant pressure and buffeting from all the females in my life.
Welcome to the first position of the new era. All those who have failed me in a particular way, now have to pass through The Gates of (PROT). The pay sucks, and it is a terrible job, and I will never, ever, ever allow you to quit, and my PREFERENCE is that you do it forever.
Not because you are suited for it, but because I love you, and the position comes with a certain amount of spiritual protection. Which is great, you need that, because I, at this point, do not give TWO SHITS about your future distress.
I ASKED YOU to get (PROT)'s attention for me--attention that YOU borked up--and you said you would, and then, you failed to follow through;
I ASKED YOU to write something--and you REFUSED;
I ASKED YOU to write something IN PARTICULAR--and you AGREED;
and then I ASKED YOU to make sense of your decisions to do such things, and instead of being legitimate with your answers, you chose to:
a) accuse me of wanting, having, and lying sex with (PROT), and;
b) crank up your terrible behavior to a level that even I myself could not peer through without outside assistance.
Look, look--I can just ask God what to do with you, but I refuse to. I was there before, and you mocked me. I'm still asking God what to do with (PROT). Someone has to tell me what to do, because the only thing I would really like to do is TELL HER WHAT YOU DID.
I cannot unless she asks, and she'll never ask unless I convey the story, which is, of course, unconveyable. Well played, (PROT). This would have worked out just as well as your other gambits to keep a woman away from me, except... this one's mother has my birthday.
I mean, yeah, I would totally love to fuck her--maybe, she'd have to be super polite--but all this time while you've been mocking me, I've simply been... obeying the directives of another person born on {INTEGER:UNSPECIFIED}/{INTEGER:UNSPECIFIED}.
Consider this an explanation for why I can act with impunity here. No matter what I do, "not guilty," or "not guilty by reason of insanity" are the only possible outcomes for any trial I might possibly have to face.
So, the next time you start acting like you're looking out for the poor, innocent, wholesome girl that you accuse me of "stalking," you might want to consider what the chain of evidence shows about YOUR behavior.
You are not stalking me, because I have not complained. All I have to do is complain ONCE, and that machine's gears would begin to turn.
Conversely, consider what YOU would have to do, if I ACTUALLY started "stalking" you. Well, you'd first have to get someone besides your father to believe it.
In the meantime, I'm the one with mutilated genitals, AND I'm the one who was STOLEN from. I do not think that either you or (PROT) have had your genitals mutilated, AND I know for A FACT that I have never tried to steal from either of you.
So. I will admit that the reason I did not report (PROT)'s thieving to the police was somewhat self-serving (I didn't want to have to tell (PROT) about it), and since I have never hidden that fact from anyone, I'm kind of wondering where your claims that I am a "stalker" have come from.
In related news, the mean people on the Internet that accused me of being a paedophile are all miserably unhappy. That's fine with me. I really do not forgive such slanderous lies.
Now. I am sure that this email is ALL YOU NEED, (PROT). ALL YOU NEED to get ALL THE HELP you could possibly ask for. I have blown up your SMS--I have made rude statements to your family--and I have utterly failed to respect your state boundaries.
Strangely, none of your six or seven brothers and/or male friends who know you and care about you are willing to stand up to me, but that's not relevant. Maybe I'm just that scary.
Or, maybe... just maybe... I am completely in control of the gale force wind that I am powering my sail by. Note that I am NOT saying, "I control the wind."
But if I were to say "I am controlling my ability to control how the wind influences me," that would be a truthful statement. It would also probably trigger some bitching about word choice, or whatever, but as it turns out, when I am acting in certain modes, the opinions of local humans has absolutely no impact on my artistic licence.
Imagine: a man so mad at you, that he deliberately a) contracts a painful disease that is not life-threatening, and b) tells his sperm, over and over and over, "it is my hope that you bring new life to where I am sending you."
Now, I am not ever going to do that. I'm simply offering up a contrast to how I have actually behaved, which is to deliberately avoid communicable diseases, and I've told my sperm, "if you wanna grow there, you are on your own, troops."
I could infect you with herpes on purpose. By "I could," I mean, I possess the technical knowledge to do it and get away with it. I would never, ever, ever, of course, do that, but I am bringing up the example for a purpose.
I could really not care about knocking you up--obviously, I could deal with that possibility, and as I've stated, I wouldn't abandon you to such a fate. However, I have come to realize, that my DNA in your womb just might be the only way that you will ever be satisfied in this life.
You could have had me in every way it is possible to have a man. You could have had everything you ever dreamed of. And, instead... well, you done fucked up, (PROT). Sorry! Was not my idea!
Everytime you blame ME for what YOU did wrong, YOU lose the power of your (PROT) righteousness. You'll get it back, of course, a rubber band can only be stretched so long.
In the meantime, I do not know why you have chosen to treat me like you have, but, please, let me assure you, that I have absolutely no plans to publicly humiliate you, or your family.
I am considering making you into a porn star, but, you know, whatever, that's just the drugs talking.
It is my hope that you read this from start to finish, linearly. It is my hope that you have arrived at this point with a glimmer of understanding, one that will enable you to stop being a poop, pick up the phone, call me, and say "Michael! Jack! I figured out something about what you are talking about! Are you.... et cetera, et cetera, et cetera."
You've done that a few times, and it would obviously be a great boon to you for that to happen, so, it is not unreasonable for me to hope. And, I'm not making myself available to you in order to harvest that feeling of intense satisfaction.
You know that feeling, right? "I... was right. I stuck to my guns. I was right. Time has proven that. Ahhh." I know you know that feeling because you are an (PROT). That's how you feel ALL THE TIME.
Except, naturally, when you were wrong, wrong, wrong, and Taurus was right, right, right. When were you wrong? I don't know, I don't care. That's your problem.
It's MY problem to change "being right" into "being what works." It WOULD HAVE BEEN "our" problem, but... you've been putting it on me for pretty much the entire time I've known you.
So. Things have changed. I am sure my opinion about what I am going to do today is going to change. I mean, what I want to do, is seduce (PROT), then find my lawyer, and ask him about what is REALLY going on... but, sadly, I will probably do something else.
I think it will involve watching what everyone else does like a hawk, and then, cautiously changing my strategy, so no one notices what I am up to. Personally, I would rather make big, sweeping, grandiose changes, but...
(PROT) has gotten in the way. Now I gotta fix allll that stuff. It is probably for the best, since I think it is best that I not engage in all the activities that I am cleared to act upon.
For example, you know how it was (PROT), and not me, (PROT), who (PROT) people while high on drugs? Okay, now, see, I have to deal with the consequences of that, because, people like that, are exactly the kind of people that I wish to take LSD-25 for.
Those plans are on hold, of course, but they wouldn't be, if not for you. Fucking cannabis is legal, and there are actual government-sponsored scientists doing actual research with actual (CHEMICAL_COMPOUND:VERBOTEN). For the first time in like forty years.
In a state that is about as far away from here as it is possible to get to. The same state that (PROT) wanted me to go with him to. Interesting, that.
So. When you tell me that you know what I am all about, remember that you simply do not. Remember that you do not even know who (POLITICAL_FIGURE) is, so there's no shame in yourself not knowing what his wife's name is.
Here's a hint: he's famous, bald, and talks a lot of shit, without getting beaten up or assassinated. Sounds like a dream job, right? Well, I don't want to be him anymore, but I think that it would help you, (PROT), it would help you a lot, if you were to study the history of his marriage.
You won't, so I'll share the highlights with you. He and his wife have dramatically different opinions on cultural issues, and they argue about them with other people in public... and then, save their own discussions for their private life.
Are they Agents? Is the sex that good? Is he an idiot, being handled by a woman pretending to be in love? Shit, lady, I don't care anymore--once this guy ended up on {SOME_DUMB_TV_SHOW:REDACTED}, as a guest cameo, and, a significant amount of people knew who he was, I then realized that EVERY great leader has a smart bald guy working behind the scenes, married to a woman who doesn't see things his way.
That could have been you. You could have been married to the smart bald guy. Instead, you still (still!) complain about "{DRUG:LICIT}" while endorsing "{DRUG:ILLICIT}" while... absolutely refusing to do anything about improving things.
[...]
five twenty five is 25 squared
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(btw, Azzerae looks pretty good lately. If any of you get a chance, tell him that he's slimmed down some. He'll appreciate that. No, really.)
I saw him the other day. The software upgrade really brings out the shine in those plump, rosy cheeks.
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Gavelfruit
Ardor.
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p.s.: never suck my dick again, thanks.
Come and get me, you kunty fuckin' little thuggie bitches. What? What? What are you waiting for--Labor Day? I already know you're not waiting for Easter, Dickless(es).
I prefer not to go to custody--but, if I gotta go, going because I openly broadcasted orders to that dipshit_loser to never fellate me again seems well worth it. TAKE ME AWAY, MISS PIGGY
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LxNThKrDDss
NONE of you have EVER seen me "upset." BELIEVE IT. This shit is all boring--no wonder you couldn't get a new Network going.
I came. I saw. I conquered. There you go--go translate my penis, (Blank).
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Also, I’d like my phone back, Asshole. The Google Pixel 3a
yeah, Thanks. it was literally the least you could do, Dopewhore.
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TAKE ME AWAY, MISS PIGGY
Got pulled over today in a #Classic pincer manuever. It was pretty slick. The Deputy who came up was a total boss. TOTAL. Not a drop of thug in him, dude just about gave me The Nightingale Effect. I mean, I am not into guys penii, but this dude was amazing.
Hot enough that recalling his forearm's ink and his steady, non-blinking gaze makes me wish I could be gay, but no, you know me -- vag + eye contact 4 lyf, yo. Anyhoo, so, like I said, pincer maneuver, right? I don't wanna reveal any ways 'n' means or nuttin', but here's how it went down: I'm bracketed by two black vehicles driving like they're piloted by assholes on the one road that leads to the small town where I get my mail--where I "live." It's a cool joint. It's a windy road through a forest. It's basically everything I want out of life -- and at the end of the rainbow, there's a chance I might find fanmail. Yay!
No fanmail this time. Instead: pulled over for driving without a seatbelt after publishing my podcast/debrief in which I:
ADMITTTED to very recently consuming copious amounts of alcohol;
ACKNOWLEDGED that I was in an agitated emotional state, as I have been and been admitting so for the past several days, and I fucking am, believe it;
ABANDONING any notion of personal privacy, I openly announced that I had last drank a can of beer an hour before recording, and then after publishing... I sat around and waited until I was sober for sure.
Hi, I'm Jackstar. I enjoy not being an idiot, talking long walks on a beach without having to dodge sniper fire, and having a statistically unlikely, highly improbable number of totesbadasses in my, let's say, memory banks, who probably remember me, just as well as I do them.
Now, if I had one wish... should I wish I could get tattoos, or, should I wish to be actually gay? Let that thought think something 'til it's tinglin'. Because I might just burn it on wishing I had bothered to get that guy's badge number.
Because, unlike some (blanks), I actually still have choices left to me. Go Bears. "I pulled you over because blah-blah-blah yadda-yadda-yadda I'm a cop I'm gaslighting you I'm not just checking to see if you're gay." totesdorbs. Not gonna lie.
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pulled over for driving without a seatbelt [...] Not gonna lie.
Sure, Jan.
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God, I love Court. *click*
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My very shy 15 year old daughter was harrassed and followed home by a group of 6 or 7 high-school aged girls that had a younger boy with them of 5ish. My daughter has a medical condition that makes her gain weight, she finally plucked up the courage to teach herself to skate and went with her little brothers to the school to practice. These girls cornered her and called her fat and every other horrible thing you can imagine and followed her, throwing objects and sticks at her for 9 minutes. The saddest part is she actually thought these girls wanted to be her friend for a minute. We have it all recorded but no faces because she was scared to let them know she was filming but wanted me to know what happened if they beat her up or worse. She did not recognize these girls. My daughter has extreme social anxiety, this was horrible for her. If you suspect that this sounds like your kids, please talk with them. I will be trying to identify them and pursuing assault and harassment charges if I find out who they are, and trust me I am looking along with other people on my block. She also said several people passed her and Noone stopped or helped her. Please keep an eye out for these kids, they are sick of being inside and the nice weather is coming and rude mean bullies shouldn't ruin it for everyone.
THIS. IS. RIVERTOWN.
(It's a lot like Bartertown, but... there's fish.)
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THIS. IS. RIVERTOWN.
(It's a lot like Bartertown, but... there's fish.)
(PROT),
it's too bad you can't just stop buy for the trinket(s). I legit could whip the crafting together in a jiffy!
In a gesture of solidarity, how about you give me back at least one (1) of my wives, please, holy shit, wtaf? I don't have to be alone to be level zero, yo. (I suppose if they only come in pairs, I could make a selective election later, but, how about one of the celibate ones? Did you let the last one eat herself? Found the newbie.
Meanwhile, I am good. I haven't used a single one of these (Clas.) traps the thug's little lions left behind. Have made peace with the thuggie little piggies: they are my Wilbur, for I am Charlotte: Lord of Destructive Spelling.
I'd ask you to stand down, but I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I did.
No hard feelings, Colombo.
--
Best wishes & warmest regards,
(PROT)
CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE: The information contained in this ELECTRONIC MAIL transmission is confidential. It may also be subject to the attorney-client privilege or be privileged work product or proprietary information. This information is intended for the exclusive use of the addressee(s). If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that any use, disclosure, dissemination, distribution (other than to the addressee(s)), copying or taking of any action because of this information is strictly prohibited. Trust the plan. #wwg1wga
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God, I love Court. *click*
SO SAY THE DIVINE WE AND WE ALL.
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SO SAY THE DIVINE WE AND WE ALL.
I tricked these goddam rotten bastards into having to pay to publish my dissertation. Already I've done so much course/field work no one will ever doubt that I have a PhD now;
(Actually have fucking five but four are classified, wild huh? Crime don't pay, but reading sure as fuck does); my goal is to make sure that everybody that messed with me/us understood that that was not worth their time or money or the Vengeance that's going to come down their heads from all the other people that got fucked up from their attacks and bounced off me and scattered into the environment.
That is their karma, and I just did my Dharma to make sure it didn't get any worse. You can pass it to your upline, that's my legal defense right now ;)
BOOM MIC DROP BOOM DROPPING IT LIKE THUNDER IN PRETEND COURT *SLAM*
======>
We tell the goods, it looks like an idiot is fucking babbling into a fucking fingerprint machine, but actually what's happening is that it gets translated to higher dimensions and sent to the Divine Law Dept. (They call yours Fight Law Club Break Room) where Scrivener Angels actually take care of it and fucking put it where it is supposed to go and there's a procedure and a process that's deleted in old books but it's not that hard it's just a simple formula and then a person can represent themselves in court before God.
I recommend practicing as much you want. ;)
It's pretty slick dude. The fact that it sounds like bullshit is the best part -for me- because it sounded like even more bullshit when I first started 20+ YEARS ago, and you couldn't have believed my fucking surprise when I found it fucking worked like a charm and my surprise continues to grow coz like every fucking time it works like a fucking blessed time charm cock'o'clock.
God is great
p. s.: Never represented myself as a Freemason to anyone not once not one single time, I'm considering it still taking my time I've got plates on my car doesn't mean I'm Mason don't say that I am I've got a ring that has symbol on it that is not a Freemasonry symbol that's why I like that one cuz I'm not I'm level zero that's different it's not level zero Freemasonry it's level 0 fucking what are the foundation point is somebody who's looking at me and asking about that question and I made it clear then and I wanted to make it clear here dude I'm not amazing I'm not cop I am a kid who grew up to be a man and read a lot of books along the way.
I mean a fucking lot of fucking books.
—j*
p.s. I'm going to say for certain that pate and Katie were better presidential team than biting Obama I would vote for Peyton Kate over by Nova but I would vote z over yeah well whatever don't feel bad I promise not to ever call you a pedophile, I know you're an ephebophile, as long as you can keep yourself from using hyper-mix roofies on your Target and doing it fucking wrong that'd be great.
Also there's like a book back along with my wife and I'd like my wife quickly and then I don't care which wife and look your emergency right is not my need for fucking future fucking therapy for my fucking friends you fucking dicks who the fuck is in charge of this God damn fucking investigation cuz they're fucking doing it fucking wrong they need to be brought up for an audit for an analysis and for a fucking psych evolve for themselves cuz whatever is doing this this way is not doing it right and they're doing it hard on purpose cuz they think they can get fucking something out of it well they got fucking something out of it didn't they yeah they got me on strike Good Times
Yeah I'm John Galt, fucking whatever, you guys all sit around being Spartacus and glad hang yourself through your togas. I'm going to go play with my toys I invented they're pretty cool toys stay out of my yard unless you bring drugs and then just leave them and go
Come back you're kind of cute, put on put on those
skimpy Skippy outfits and go mow my lawn come on chop chop believe me you're getting older you're not getting cuter let's go
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Just don't call me late for dinner!
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Just don't call me late for dinner!
Just don't tell me I don't know what I'm doing! And then thinking you're clever.. save some room for dessert.
Now if you'll excuse me I have to go get changed for drum major class. Oh and, consider that spiritual lesson taught for free on the house.
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Oh and, consider that spiritual lesson taught for free on the house.
Message received and acknowledged, that's a subtle one I like that I'm not going to say no and will not necessarily support... but I will not stand in the way of that, absolutely.
Oh, by the way I was supposed to not reveal that I can read minds, cuz I didn't know that was a secret but I can't anyway I had to really strain and then I don't think that was a message I think I just figured something out, which appears to be an ability in very short supply of being openly acknowledged, lol
Semper thundercats 55
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Michael Kuczi <michaelkuczi@gmail.com>
12:26 AM (5 minutes ago)
to David, David, DAVID
Hi David! Love ya!
pate has inadvertently spilled the beans tonight: oh, they're dating? lol. "cute"
anyway, you should know: uhm, cool? whatever. Not affected. it's probably an upgrade and it's not like I'm single. I don't think you understand just how copacetic I am here on this.
Additionally, fascinating news gained over the last week. I've completed my latest investigation, I can't imagine any need for another, and believe me, I am not sweating court, nor am I worried about the new papers being prepped. God, what a waste of time. this would have worked, I suppose... if I were an idiot, or if I were toxified, or shooting meth.
Dude! I have -never- shot meth. I just found out. We should talk! Oh, right, conflict of interest. Rolleyes.
anyway, you should check with me when you can, as things here are not at all as you think they are, your crew team are actual retarded toddlers, and whatever future plans you got, they could probably be better prepped now.
Because, I know everything, David. Except why the fuck you even bothered. It seems so low-rent.
This is not an attempt to contact Shaw. Didn't know they were dating. don't care. they can scissor their way to Heaven for all I care. seriously, no skin off my nose.
I don't even care if you're there, and I'm not asking. Anyway, Little Rascals being silly in public. I thought I would let you know.
p.s.: I knew K. Mickey was in on it for awhile, then, I got evidence. Thanks! call me if you like, I think you should but I know you have a lot of interwoven loyalties. I hope you can work with adults soon.
Ciao,
--
Best wishes & warmest regards,
MCK
CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE: The information contained in this ELECTRONIC MAIL transmission is confidential. It may also be subject to the attorney-client privilege or be privileged work product or proprietary information. This information is intended for the exclusive use of the addressee(s). If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that any use, disclosure, dissemination, distribution (other than to the addressee(s)), copying or taking of any action because of this information is strictly prohibited. Trust the plan. #wwg1wga
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12:26 AM (33 minutes ago)
to David, David, DAVID
He, of course, has not called. Now, that's a real leader.
aunts marching
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He, of course, has not called. Now, that's a real leader.
We know you've been under a lot of pressure, lately.
But ...
Where's your pride, Jack?
https://youtu.be/q3vM1PcrV0k
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aunts marching
Speaking of, My Cousin, Bitchlips McHooligan (name changed to protect his family virtue) showed up in a YouTube channel chat, on some stream that suddenly became a showcase showdown of marionette puppets, various private investigators who were asking questions, because, as you all know, there all sorts of Questions & Concerns going on about how I live my life, what I am doing with my life, how is my life going, and when am I going to make an honest woman out of Mrs. Paul. I skipped the last query, because they held her back at the end--she's too valuable.
I fucking slayed whatever investigative team was on me. Picture this: I was sitting there, minding my own business on the YT, watching some Terror Tarot Lady (RaRa, she's a pretty bomb Virgo, but she's a real method actress, I do love her though, but she has a kid, so I'm never going near her, you dig? okay? OTAY? Ovey), and while participating in the chat, and getting my drink on, and my smoke on, I thought I would do a little gambling, e.g., let's see what happens when I do this???
Now, I am getting this shit from ACTUAL COPS, right? And I am doing this because, for one thing, I have A LOT of time to kill while we all sit around and wait for a really long time while we all just sit and wait for my balls to overfill. For another, because of the statements made by ONE (1) A. SHAW, I have got a really bad public persona.
It's okay when I meet people in general on YT, but these psychics are nothing of the kind! I found this out, when I picked up the phone and used my Telegram dialer to dial the vs psychic greeting network. And it didn't work. But what did work, is that someone on the TWO-WAY CAMERA THAT IS ALWAYS ON. EVERY MIRROR, EVER, a personal Personal, and i followed the way to my heart in my mind, and thought--"I'm gonna call the one person who still pretends to answer the phone, and this one is gonna ring,"--and I do call... and, yep, the fucking Terror Tarot Lady's phone fucking rings. She's live. I call a phone number that in theory goes to a single person... it doesn't. It also goes to some YTuber.
Wow. That's interesting. Whoda thunk it. Well, I did, because it was Destiny. Somehow I knew, it would be a delight to see more of a confirmation of what I have known for sometime is happening--YouTube Spies, and so do the Terror Tarot Ladies, there's a Network, it's not new, but anyway, I have known that there are dimensional planar portals happening all the time.
Tarot has hidden hazards. Always be careful. It's not always this easy to penetrate a Reader's security--security being totes important to them--but I clearly needed to know, right away, at that moment, that... oh, wow! big fun! surveillance! I should get my boogers out of my nose more often!!!
Anyway, the day before, I'm sitting in front of the computer, and relaxin'/chillin', and this time, I start to feel like I am getting watched. Of course I am getting watched. I am that gorgeous. usually screenshots are enough for me. This time I start typing away in the chat--at my usual rate of speed--and in short order I find myself answering interrogative questions, which I mostly handle correctly, but mostly, I'm stoked, because WOW OMG LOL WOW DID YOU SEE THAT? DID YOU SEE THAT? I just saw proof! That woman is on my Loops! I don't know! it sounds good! So I'm going along with it, and I'm answering questions in my mind that seem appropriate at this juncture, because, why not? Picture this:
#1) 24/7 surveillance. Enjoy The Show.
#2) I already know the authorities have an erroneous Sourcerors's box.
#3) I already know that A Shaw openly lied to me, she called the police to falsely report a crime, multiple times, multiple states, and the last time was the last fuckin' strawman straw drawn, because she wanted to drive my buggy to Folsom Prison, pretty much, and for some mysterious reason, I am completely ignored by the absolute totes'n'total lot of you. Six months in isolation is a draining experience, and I don't think I have made this clear: I had no reason to go to custody... I was perfectly happy to engage in dissolution discussions on Christmas Eve, and so instead of anything but a fight, I walked in the door and was attacked. I didn't retaliate, I controlled the situation as best as I can, and I am not overly so, but still, I am traumatized. So everyone acting like I did something wrong? Fuck the lot of you. What do you have to do with it anyway?
Speaking of "what do you have to do with it anyway," I found myself talking to a series of investigative-type individuals on a YTchannels chat during a tarot spread, and one of them appeared to me to be my cousin Timothy Michael Gifford in a subterfuge disguise, and I have not "doxxed" him according to my understanding, but I did put his name up so he can take me to court if he likes. I don't know what he's doing, but he's clearly up to something, and it's really really stupid.
It's possible that he hired Grapefruit? not likely. Nevertheless, I am being investigated up and upside down, all around, and... well, I seem to be doing okay. Which is great, a psyche eval is surely would I could use.
#5) I needed my nebulizer while I was at the motel down the road, and I got nothing but static, the cops didn't want to give me another civil standy, and they eventually convinced me that I would be able to make them acknowledge my point later. Well, later came and nothing, but the important part is that when I finally got home, I found my nebulizer, still new in new box, and it's up on my desk, in easy access, and those drunken fuckheads could have arranged something. If not, well, Sing it again. Seriously, I did not wrong him, I made a simple request, and no one at all was willing to help me. It would not have been hard.
Let me get this straight: somehow these people were thinking they could live in my house, and just... send me to jail and ignore me? Huh. That seems strange. Where do they think that they get off? Oh, right, little thuggie piggies. I guess they thought they were in charge, and that my health and concerns thereof did not matter. Well, guess what: I matter. I gave them 11 weeks, and then had their asses tossed out.
When I come in, I find my nebulizer, easily located. They didn't even try. They were content to leave me completely alone, without any assistance from people who could have been told one thing ("terrible accident") and the other, which come to find out was, ("Fuck that guy! We got his house! Yay!").
So. I have my house. I have my nebulizer. I'm not sure what to do yet, but I did do a great job in the first week of June, which I had decided was gonna be the start of my own investigation. The County got six months, and they didn't seem to do much beyond... well, not much. However within 7 days of decided to start it up, I figured out more information about what has been going on than anyone had told me before.
So, basically, I'm going to have you all boiled in oil. Now, I know what you're thinking, and I don't care. I want to have you all tarred and feathered as well, but, with the price of goosedown, forget it. It's not worth it. And I don't know why there is so much ATTENTION paid to my circumstance... IN THE WRONG AREA, but, here we are.
I'm the fucking victim here. These fucking thug DEA cunts are busily imagining that they're taking my house--hey, well, I did see that one coming. I didn't know that Grapefruit was going to be that stupid, but, I don't actually know. She might be the smartest woman in the world!!! *polite cough* well, who knows. Because until I find out how it came to be the case that someone didn't think I needed help in the first six months of the year, and how any of you think that I deserved to have this bullshit go down, I guess that the answer is that you heard about it in your Podbean meeting, which, I am sure, was a delightful time for everyone, and I am glad, so glad, SO SO GLAD that I missed it.
Because none of you knew what you were doing, you lied to me, you lied to Grapefruit, and God only knows who else. And as a result, well, Christmas is canceled and I'm gonna baptise the Grinch with my urine. Yep. Gonna drench that green little fuck with my own piss.
And for whatever reason, I am being -investigated- by -Serious Investigators.- Which is kinda nice, honestly. Who knows what is to come? Prosperity, if one asks me. And I would have been a little closer, if any of you were even the least little bit less of a gang of fuckin' retards than you seem to be in this moment.
Your collective judgement in this case has been... poor. Now, I didn't think I'd have anything more to say tonight, however, new information has come to light, and I wished to put it here so I could refer back to it in the future. "Oh, yeah, I remember that... that's when Bonus Round really started hip-hop-happening!" Also, I established dominance.
I rather thought I had done that before, but with Ensouled Pate tromping around here now, Hi Pate! Go show your soul to Keith, why don't you?
Look, he's trying to argue. See? He's got a soul now. Come on. Once more: with feeling. Yeah, I can't hear it either. Oh well. Maybe a third or a fifth testicle needs to drop. Try putting a quarter in him.
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Where's your pride, Jack?
I set them up by request received through telepathy. It's not like I didn't know. I set the train tracks in motion quite some time ago.
You don't know what I am upset/were upset about. You just think you do, because you've been trained to believe "Jackstar equals meth" and "Jackstar = angry" and "Jackstar = make fun of." All well and good units of thought to program oneself with... if you'd like to be wrong.
Additionally, I really like being able to control my self's attitude, so watching people attempt to get a rise out of me and then putting on a show of struggling to maintain my temper is a good day at the beach for me. I'm not sure if this is clear to everyone... because statements were made to police about my behavior, and they were obviously quite... ah, bullshit, let's say, it was reasonable for local constabulary to get a reasonable look at what I am actually like. Since I just moved here. Also, local color reports indicated early on that I was not behaving upon leaving custody as one might have expected.
For example: no one was there to greet me after leaving the jail that I was sent to after someone perjured herself after making a whole bunch of stupidly tarted up surreptitiously made recordings. You probably heard them? I saw her doing it, and when she went in there to "hide" I gleefully obliged by making extra noise. slapping the walls, that kind of thing. And, do you know why?
You don't. You think you know jack or shit and you do not. Fuck off. Your friend had a panic attack and is not entirely responsible, but the bottom line is that I had no reason to have lasagna thrown at me as soon as I walked in the door. The truth is that I didn't know that someone was needed to take the fall for some IRS Audit incoming, and that they wanted the house... without me in it. Hey, guess what? Her little thuggie piggie gang doesn't get to do things this way. There could have been negotiations, or even better, there could have been no involvement from a bunch of dickbag douchehead dopeslaving shitbags who got their fingers into my life through absolutely no valid means. Care to disagree? Well, do it off my lawn. This situation has been handled badly on repeat, and at this point, I can see why arsonists are born: some houses just need to burn.
This one is early yet. And it's something to do with my cousin. Who is, quite clearly, and idiot dick. It's cool he showed up with some forensics dudes though. There's been a lot of attention around here lately... and I expect they're almost done with me. I'm not up to anything particularly odd. Downright old home country living, if you ask me. I'll be happy to tell you all about it just as soon as it's any damn amount of your fucking business. Yeah, my cousin. What's he doing there? Well, he is pretty cool--he's probably checking me over to see if I need to be sanded down and painted.
Or, he could be apologizing. Too early to say. he might just be interested in taking a peek at what a genuine Sourceror looks like... I mean, he's gotta have heard the stories by now. Especially if he's on a forensic investigation team that had to spend six months to get around to infiltrating a YTchannel stream chat. He couldn't call on the phone? I would have been happy to have told anyone who asks. No one asks. Or, people are just afraid of I might yell at them on the phone? I hear it is pretty scary. I have tried to make sure that when I find someone recording my voice, I act as loud and as fierce as I possibly can... because that makes it more plausible a story when I stroll up and just control my attitude.
I spent five fucking years pretending to Grapefruit that I had difficulty controlling my temper (I don't) my anger response (I don't) and my general belligerent attitude (ladies & gentlemen... I played this woman like a goddam fiddle. No fucking joke. As soon as she argued with me about my French absinthe and The Sinclair Method... I knew that I was gonna wanna keep an eye on that baseline. I had a hunch I might need an edge later... and it was over four years before I even learned of the existence of... The Advantage.
I'll explain that one later. I don't even know why... oh yeah! my dipshit asshole cousin! I'm gonna start calling him Fat Mike, because the shithead thug who had decided he was gonna send me to prison, he was introduced to me as a John, and he kinda looked like me and also went by the name Mike, and I am going to assume that I am not going to see him again, because he said he was dying of metastatic cancer, and I hope he fucking really enjoys it. He has brought about some developments that have been unfavorable for children.
Now if you will excuse me, I'm going to go piss on Christmas. By the way, most of you are complete assholes, and are -completely unaware- that all your hidden machinations and secret schemes... are trivially easy for me to see coming. Clairvoyance. Clairaudience. Also, I'm not an idiot and I read books, and I don't want to be doing what I am doing at all... but, I do want to put on a big show of maintaining discipline and demonstrating integrity.
Any more stupid fucking questions, pound them up your ass and kiss them goodbye. I am in no mood people. :) Although, and this is a nice point to end with.. I really like the new pate with his old soul restored. I wonder if pate has a new soul anywhere? I'm gonna give it to The Grinch if so.
Consolation prize. Whatever. I'm done here for now. I suppose you are too, now that you don't see Jackstar raging uncontrollably. Once again: I played Grapefruit like a fiddle and I really don't ever expect to argue with her ever again. And, I never was fighting with her. She attacked me. I was victimized.
Pretending that is not the actual narrative, at this point, brings to mind questions of judge integrity. On the other hand... I did deliberately not spend any money in order to hurry things along... because I knew this would probably be her best chance to get laid ever in her life, and I also knew I didn't want to see her anytime soon anyway. 3 more months? fine with me. I'm glad she's out of my sight. I'm also glad I have my house back. And I am glad that there are no living cats here, and the ALFs have left, because I prefer to be alone when I burst into tears now... it's just easier.
For everyone else. If you arrogant fucks knew what you'd done, I'd feel bad for telling you. Now, turn off the cameras in the bathroom and the... you know what? I'll just fucking squinch my eyebrows and set off an EMP. I don't know if I can do that, but it'll be worth it to try. Are you satisfied? Because any time anyone who saw me last summer, sees me "angry" again, they know they don't have one chance in fuck of convincing anyone that I am the problem. I am obviously NOT what I was reported to be. Thus, working on legal papers for some wop spic kike (HALF) JESUS CHRIST who thinks that he's got a chance in hell of pulling that off... well I think he's forced into it. I don't know. I've never lied my ass off to a court officer and am now facing court-martial before. Oh, let me guess, you're wondering how I knew that. Well, right before I start sucking his dick, I'm going to ask him to keep me entertained while I cure Grapefruit of nausea forever. Yeah, fuck it, I'll put it up on OnlyFans? How about OnlyRape? Let's incorporate.
And I got dibs on Laverne. Just sayin'. I like those poodle skirts with the L. on them. It reminds me of L... well, I guess. a fucking dick now. Wow, turning gay is easy! You know what else would have been easy, is letting me have my nebulizer. What were they, all under house arrest? Oh, yeah? WELL FUCKING GOOD, THEY DESERVED IT.
Where's your pride, Jack?
They took off. Once they got to a certain size, they were able to, like... go wherever an ALF pride goes. They come back sometimes. They know this is a home of theirs. I don't think they were exactly -born- here... it was weird. They may also have been harvested for scientific specimens, which I would not have been asked about, because they probably would have harvested the harvester right back.
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We know you've been under a lot of pressure, lately.
No, you don't, sigh. I sat on my ass for six months and did absolutely nothing. Giving the benefit of the doubt, I figured I would know what to do when June came around. And I did: I spent June 1st through June 7st solving the goddam Case of The Mysterious Cheerleader Who Gets Away With Everything Without Having To Fuck Anybody. Don't ask. (Rape.)
Incidentally your snide and bitchie little what-you-think-are-digs are really embarrassing considering I don't think you did that to her. How about the first three years, you lying fucking prick? Eat shit and die. Oh, wait, don't eat.. I bet you fuckin' vape that all the goddam time too. Additionally, you're just jelly. Knock it off. With great power, comes great awareness that it's just not as big a deal as you're making it out to be. Besides, they'll probably totally raid the house any minute now, right? They got to set an example.
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He, of course, has not called. Now, that's a real leader.
Oh, right, he's in custody. (Surreal. He's in Astral. He's sitting right there. Settle down, Beavis.) Okay, start finding new leaders and I'll start emasculating them 1x1x1 next! until I get to the one I want. This way the balance of power shall be maintaintained.
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they wanted the house... without me in it. Hey, guess what? Her little thuggie piggie gang doesn't get to do things this way.
I will agree that if I actually had some kind of nefarious criminal scheme at play, that would be something on the table. However, it's not. It was also entrapment. It was also the same guy who... aawww shucks. I don't wanna disrespect our brave front line soldiers who defend us from organized criminal activity BY HIDING BEHIND GRAPEFRUIT AND INJECTING NEEDLES. Like seriously. What a terrible human being. I didn't even know he existed until the day before Christmas. I can't wait to find out that one. "Oh, yeah... I forgot about him, but I remembered to constantly scream at you about needles you weren't using." Honestly, in hindsight it does all make perfect sense.
Is there a pill that makes metastatic cancer hurt -more-? Hopefully I can find out through telepathy instead of interpretive dance.
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Incidentally your snide and bitchie little what-you-think-are-digs are really embarrassing considering I don't think you did that to her. How about the first three years, you lying fucking prick? Eat shit and die. Oh, wait, don't eat.. I bet you fuckin' vape that all the goddam time too. Additionally, you're just jelly. Knock it off. With great power, comes great awareness that it's just not as big a deal as you're making it out to be.
https://youtu.be/VQmmByJwKFI
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I'm not sure what the rules are for that, but I definitely have to be there & consecrate the ground.
And then you know it's not a lot you can do from outer Space if they decide to come over for a raid, but I do know that I've never been busted for anything ever. At this point it's definitely not luck.
Oh they wanted to bust me for something but they couldn't do it, because it's not illegal for me, it's really easy to do lawful things if you know what the law is and then you just don't break it ;)
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https://youtu.be/VQmmByJwKFI
That song is legit that badass enough for me to just grandfather you in on my own—if I could—but I don't think I can. If I don't think so then I can't. I got lucky, in a sense because I signed up before the court case in 2006, when it was really destiny speaking.
I've already thought this through once before and a friend of mine heard me and apparently she tried to do it anyway and it doesn't work because it comes from God and God knows a person's lying, it's not like I have a plastic card that says "get all the drugs" but I bet in some jurisdictions they do that.
Wow have you ever thought about having a podcast I could tell you all about it for hours legal drugs is my favorite subject in the world! Well except for unlawful pussy carnivore knowledge
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Oh they wanted to bust me for something but they couldn't do it, because it's not illegal for me, it's really easy to do lawful things if you know what the law is and then you just don't break it ;)
And just tonight while I was in the grocery store I had a strange experience or a grapefruit sister sent me a money request from fucking cash app and like not talking to me not answering the phone and then eventually sent a text and I could tell it wasn't her and then I called him out on who was that I think it's that same foggy piggy fucking John Mike fucker fucking fuck this all up and everything. I guess he's pretty desperate cuz he's got to break the law in order to set me up he ain't got shit cuz I didn't want his fucking stuff I didn't set it up I didn't want it I didn't go there for that and it was stupid and then I guess he didn't like that cuz he fucking did some other fucking thing reprogrammed grapefruit and then she threw lasagna on the floor and here to 6 months later in the fucker still try to fucking jam me up what a dick
So opinions vary on legality but, there's nothing to stop from trying hopefully they'll arrest him when he fucking files a third one and it doesn't work.
I mean he's legally allowed to carry something right, well maybe I am maybe or not it depends that's the power of God and the law—DIVINE LAW. It's a lot like dousing when you think of it
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I do know that I've never been busted for anything ever. At this point it's definitely not luck.
Oh they wanted to bust me for something but they couldn't do it,
Yeah maybe if he keeps trying hard enough... Except no I mean my name is KUCZI, I've had these conversations with people who are aware that I've been doing this for years so he'll probably find somebody who eventually explain to him to stop or maybe not able to kill himself maybe the fucking cancer or get them hopefully it fucking fucking sucks when it fucking kills him too.
I might sound bitter that's just coz I am
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I mean my name is KUCZI
Hi, I'm Jackstar. And I own these little bitches from top to bottom. You're not going to believe this 6 months ago they sent me the Christmas jail and the pretext was nothing lik he's trying to kill me he chose me no bullshit they being that woman I wasn't her that wasn't great for that woman and some guy wanted me to buy an ounce of something that I didn't want and then you know take it back and obviously I would have been pulled over on the way or even something there or something something would happen cuz it would have been bad cuz these people were cops.
I don't remember when I made them. They obviously didn't think that I had made them. And I own these little river bitches from top to bottom. This makes me as popular amongst the local constabulary as one might expect, and I think there have to order out for more feds to take on the case so that they can keep up with my brain or something. For example it's not their job to just let me do things so they have to try to earn their keep and then they might be talking to a guy who's real clever at the might be stuck being didn't they catch to give up they got to keep going and going and going. It's in the regulations actually.
You can take a bow it's not going to matter take a clap with her something that's fun. So anyways 6 months later this guy still trying to steal the house!
So I'm uncertain how I want to dance a victory to get cuz as long as I don't use a needle I'm good. Because this doggy dea guy is fucking addicted to the needle. Like hardcore and that can happen that's that's trouble. For him, me I've never used it before this month.
All those rumors on the web that already believed shot meth, I haven't ever never even used it. And I'm serious I'm not lying or exaggerating I've never used it till this year so it's going to take a long time if I'm careful to go overboard even if it is just powerful stuff it really is. Watch out for the meth. Anyway that guy's already addicted to it or is it just something else that's dumb but he's like already deep in the life right and I don't even want to be here I want to fucking go home while he was home but there's no there's no woman here so just shoot me.
Just not with the needle. You could take the drugs and the needle and something sterile and go 500 ft away from the house and mix it up there and then come back but if you if a person mixes water with stuff and put a needle that counts as manufacturing and they can bust you for cooking which I don't want because I'm not cooking anything I don't have an oven
I'm have an oven, but it's broken, it only cooks Jews. So obviously I can't even turn it on that would be wrong. At this point that would be the Apocalypse. So that's where we're at 6 months later they're all gone I'm here alone they threw drugs at me and they're waiting for me to go wrong it's not going to happen I'm pretty pretty solid.
And now I can test all the second cars that you get. The guy who's trying to steal the house he's a vampire or some shit he's fucking hardcore in life. I understand where the Full Armor of God and now have a serious bone to pick with a few people.
So, buckle up, buttercup: we're about to put that gasoline on fire. I don't know how yet but it was just on the way home that I got really riled up now. I'm high as balls for one thing, and then for another, I'm dedicated to protecting the Innocence around me in my life... oh they're all dead. I guess I'm not very good at it, but I would like to get laid, and I'd like my wife back and then—which wife? Could be different! somebody send me a Russian male order bride, well somebody check with Grapefruit. I don't know if she's going to lose her. She doesn't want to lose me.
And she never can. This whole notion of me being mad at Grapefruit never held any water, I was never mad at her, it was the thug feds who needed a pretext to come in here and take the house. So that's where we're at, right here in Big River Little City so what do you think about that? Is this how Michael Deano got started? Does anybody really think I give a shit who Grapefruit has sex with? Yes I do. I want her to have it with me. And if she's unable to tell me about the other people she's having sex with she needed to tell me that that was the case. That's why I kind of all fell apart coz like she was not carrying up end of the negotiated deal. In my mind, she's screaming at me that she's happy to do that again, that'd be fine with me, I'd love to bring bring her to the court and make her make signatures that makes the thing go away.
Is the girl I love who hates this stuff ever going to forgive me for having to smoke it? At least she probably would have done something with me if I had taken out the garbage or clean the kitchen or something like, if this house was a place where she could live, she could probably be here, but it's not and I wasn't going to clean it up, and then well maybe she needed a place to run to, and I'm not looking for that, that would be bad. The thuggy DEA, they would take advantage and exploit that. I can't have my loved ones in danger anymore, I'm losing my fucking mind as it is.
-
No matter how guilty you might feel talking to me, it's nothing compared to how guilty the people that I'm actually pissed off at are actually feeling. And I think that is a very significantly healthy indicator for the future of Mankind. WOmankind. My Anklekind. Whichever.
(Okay I twisted my ankle the other day and now it hurts but it's getting better isn't that funny was it your <PROT> left ankle or was it right on when she hurt her foot cuz this one's my left I hurt my left foot.
That's not why I'm going over today but it does explain how badly somebody doesn't want me to do anything today. ;)
I guess they think I'm such a stupid man that I can't just be told hey this is why don't do something I guess they think they just have to manipulate me and fool me and lie to me and send magic at me to get me to behave the right way well it turns out I'm an amazing man I can just be reasoned with.
That probably didn't make much sense to a woman but here's hoping. Besides I wasn't saying that to you I was saying that to <PROT> I was just repeating what I said to her to you it's fine I'll talk to you later <PROT>, I'm sure you're having a great time.
You really did something very special to me a long time ago and then you did something else, you apologized and that's one of the most special things in the entire world.
So thanks. I'm totally convinced that you won't be killed in the morning. ;) And I have nothing to do with it at all.
-
No matter how guilty you might feel talking to me, it's nothing compared to how guilty the people that I'm actually pissed off at are actually feeling. And I think that is a very significantly healthy indicator for the future of Mankind. WOmankind. My Anklekind. Whichever.
(Okay I twisted my ankle the other day and now it hurts but it's getting better isn't that funny was it your <PROT> left ankle or was it right on when she hurt her foot cuz this one's my left I hurt my left foot.
That's not why I'm going over today but it does explain how badly somebody doesn't want me to do anything today. ;)
I guess they think I'm such a stupid man that I can't just be told hey this is why don't do something I guess they think they just have to manipulate me and fool me and lie to me and send magic at me to get me to behave the right way well it turns out I'm an amazing man I can just be reasoned with.
That probably didn't make much sense to a woman but here's hoping. Besides I wasn't saying that to you I was saying that to <PROT> I was just repeating what I said to her to you it's fine I'll talk to you later <PROT>, I'm sure you're having a great time.
You really did something very special to me a long time ago and then you did something else, you apologized and that's one of the most special things in the entire world.
So thanks. I'm totally convinced that you won't be killed in the morning. ;) And I have nothing to do with it at all.
Eh, Tony...Hey! 8)
(https://c.tenor.com/q3lqmNf8p0wAAAAC/collar-popping-collar.gif)
-
NOT GOING TO POST SCREENSHOTS OF ANYTHING TO CORROBORATE ANYMORE OF THIS BECAUSE I ALREADY DID THAT SEVERAL OTHER PLACES. Oops sorry caps, anyway I don't need to show off—but I do fucking get off on it I'm not going to lie—but Some Body Else wanted something to happen so that they could verify later and then over here I got this thing and then there's this other screenshot and then I got this other chat log and then I got these text phone messages on this other SMS app and then this web thing and I'm not fucking faking any of this, ASSHOLE, so you can fucking check it up and see if it counts for the sanity check or a fucking checksum check or you can fucking lift your big fat and wide Wisconsin ass out of your fucking chair, and get your big fat wide Wisconsin ass into your fucking car and drive down here and lift my God damn scrote and check for my fucking inoculation Mark On My Ass; I don't give a shit, this fucking real I don't give a shit and it's not the mark of the beast that's on the forehead and the hand Mark of the ass is not a thing I'm just saying ass like a joke fucker no it's really on my scrote, fuck you, and no I'm not going to tell you how I got it where I got it when I got it or anything fuck you get your own goddamn inoculation Mark what's the fuck call what the fuck am I to you your fucking delivery guy? Why don't you fucking deliver me your mother and some cookie dough, I sure had a cure domain, no it's the other one scoliosis no what's that other fucking thing botulism? Salmonella yeah no I can't cure that one, no it's patented sorry well fucking look pray to Jesus if you want fucking healing then, don't fucking talk to me, I'm fucking busy anyway.
And I also see a whole bunch of messages on Twitter too cuz apparently somebody was concerned that I might think this was a dream, but I've had this kind of thing happen before but never quite like this case you're wondering I definitely know this is not a Russian hack, damn wow.
So I guess you're allowed to be my friend now. That's good to know I mean you were going to be anyway but I prefer not to have myself exorcised of the Holy Spirit, and I guess this counts for (PROT) too well that's good times oh I guess they both died, lol, like I knew that already but they died like 5 months ago it was highly classified, like no shit they've already been reborn since then, and of course I know cuz I was in telepathic contact with all my wives orvboth of them or whatever the fuck. I knew this surveillance shit would have some ramifications cuz it's not like I'm making this up and I've been doing it for fucking two decades, welcome to the party, Cowlitz County Judges, fucking there goes my cover story shit so much for that, hopefully they keep a secret or they just won't write it down, I don't know but I'm not joining the Freemasons today, and tomorrow doesn't look good either, I have to wash my hair
THE LORD God Our Heavenly Father commands me and I wait patiently as instructed until it is time to obey. Check mark bang. 5 seconds left yeah go check him he might be dead if he is he'll be back in 3 minutes if you don't have a market your location then don't worry about it—that was extra credit, and also somebody asked me where I was going to school and I told him I'm seeing University and they were like where's your scriptures and transcripts, and, like, I shit you not: this is as close as I can get, if you don't like it go fuck your mother and your sister while your dad watches and then for an encore go and fuck yourself then go back to William and Mary and fuck them too. Yeah I heard that too but oddly enough you want to have William get choked and Mary is the one... where's the habit?
It's behind me on the couch I'm not wearing it, fuck you I don't have to wear my God damn habit all the fucking time, who the fuck put you in charge of fucking nun costume rules? who the fuck is this? oh really okay: “Eh, Tony...Hey! 8)
(https://c.tenor.com/q3lqmNf8p0wAAAAC/collar-popping-collar.gif)
fuck you Dave
Eh, Tony...Hey! 8)
I don't know if this is for you (I'M LYING IT'S TOTALLY NOT FOR YOU THIS IS FOR EVERYONE), but you'd be fucking shitting your pants if you could look at my goddamn SMS chat log right now, I got your incontrovertible proof right here and now I'm going to delete it HA *click*
So there.
-
Eh, Tony...Hey! 8)
(https://c.tenor.com/q3lqmNf8p0wAAAAC/collar-popping-collar.gif)
It's hard to remember how imbecilic this posting motif was, but there's plenty of examples to encounter. Here's hoping it translates well to paper printouts; I mean, if you want to be a serious person, you have to be a serious Jedi.
Just ran out of breakfast and that was okay to let lie, eh? Well! Tired, nap¡ (Your Spirit guides hate me for my freedoms.)
-
12:00
hi! we're good; (PROT) sleeping lots and lots. Needs it. Somehow my virtue remains intact. (Paladin shields.) (PROT) kinda absent and brusque--I don't think he's used to being outranked by Clergy, lol, and you know what? He's just really, really emotionally stunted and shy. And a total freak. And gets shoved around by clandestines and such, no doubt. He's around serious people a lot and I think compensates badly for the lack of empathy... but he does compensate, and he's not alarming me overly. That being said I think he's supposed to be pushing me around but -- haisisecret -- I legit do not have any weakness to his power. I think I'll keep him around if feasible. Unknown about romantic status. Still observing... I find this stuff fascinating. Like Gorillas In The Mist.
12:05 PM
Meanwhile I suspect my q-wife is running rings around these little cracker bitches and I'm glad I can happily depend on controlling myself. This is actually kinda fun, especially since I'm in a haunted house protected by Spirits, vampyr, and the ghasts of long-dead Indian faggots. (PROT)’s sister and her Island Golden Boy Manservant are probably never gonna forgive me though, because I could give not one single shit for whatever trouble they're having after they got their plans boosted. Fuck them and their bitch-ass ideas for exploiting this land, I guess they thought I'd just disappear and (PROT) would have no choice. Yeah, well, wrong. They're talking to her now, I can hear a faint echo, you dig?
12:07 PM
Seems like someone set up her family and thought I would be the lynchpin towards teaching them "a lesson" and it wasn't thought that I would be playing a pivotal role. Ho ho ho. Now I have a central pivotal role and I may well make it a full-time job showing these non-Familial thugs how to to chew their gum. Feeling happy--Sherriff seems to think I'm the new Ferris Bueller. (Telepathy is the new hotness.)
12:11 PM
Also it would seem that I may have been responsible for a few people getting accidentally killed because of running my mouth off, exposed people supposed to be more hidden, and they must have been dicks, as I guess they got killed. Boo hooo hoo if so, I guess that's why ratfuck snitches get paid money, it's not like I knew of anything, and probably nothing to do with me, right? But death is a part of life, and besides, I didn't convince my wife that lying to me was easier than telling me the truth (IRS audit turning up nothing because my taxes are paid and whatever she was doing, she was under coercion. So basically total nothing) and it is gonna be a hot day in Court at the pre-trial, I am going to lay into these worthless pricks in every possible way.
12:15 PM
I'm pretty sure they have the shitbag (Blank) who came down here with (PROT) and was going to be a copy of me, dead to rights, and he was not happy when I saw him last, and good, he stole my goddam Amaro. Hang him, I'd say. No solid information on that, but I'd stab him in the fuckin' liver if I had the chance. No other important news. I thought you'd like to know. Being a man of The Cloth does have a few privileges, overhearing chatter from Jesus being one of them. (Apparently some few folk are astonished I am not a criminal reprobate, I guess this town never saw a Sourceror before. /flex)
{Father is still going mildly apeshit in a positive way, who knew this was going to drag on this long? Well I knew it had that kind of legs. I feel no urgency in any way but for a genuine apology on that — it was really over the line what I decided to do at that moment, and in my defense, I was under duress. It does not excuse but it is something of a mildly unfinished business, and my sincere sense is that it will maintain integrity as an important message for a long time to come.
As this ongoing struggle winds its way down into normalcy, I'm forced to recognize the true fact that I have never been able to speak freely on any issue since the late 80s, and I look forward to an increasingly sedate and sensible draw-down into a pattern of comms I can feel stable about.
Know that absolutely every past email is compromised; all of them being written in a period of time when hardships unknown and dangers unnumbered truly were as totesbeyondsanity as I had suddenly become cognizant of. I really was quite confused, and an abundance of caution I chose to be as secure as I could be without knowing a goddam thing for certain. (I never imagined these twerps would go for a civil asset forfeiture at all... Guess they wanted to be famous for being stupid. Whiskey can oblige.)
Probably not necessary to destroy them, haha, but there are undoubtedly sections that are extra misleading. (Clergical privileges over prophetic channels actually do apply. I own this area, armored and unarmed.) I recommend maximum disavowal, it's not the only way to be sure but I could be wrong on that.
I retain The High Ground. I gathered a sidekick... gonna have to get tags and registration. This -will- trigger a turf war over Native salmon spawning rights, but this challenge is certain to be one that I was born and built for.
Plans are being pushed back in ways I'm not in full control over and various communication struggles between warring factions are rearing their fearsome heads, as well they must; I fucking love this time of Life, I haven't been having this much game going on since... never, honestly. I am making waves. I'm dealing. I plan to brainstorm the sidekick and shoot the shit. There will be stragglers incoming once the racial fear of Mr. Hyde away from the local environs. They do superstition here. Must remember to Google a proper way to rub rabbit's feets.
New players on this scene will include some social overlap, as it is possible we are the most badass force for societal change since Van Helsing hung a shingle. Absolutely there are hidden enemies that are really pissed at me, so if you have any useful idiots, trigger them at will.
No contact Kennedy no contact Shaw no contact blood test. I can't believe it's come to this honestly, but long-overdue penance is often unbelievable in its miraculous presentation. Also not to be believed: 8 months gone and I still haven't done anything that a sane person would expect one to do here. Dishwasher busted. Oven control panel busted.
Villain busted. Unconfirmed. Fog of War is best Fog.)
I don't know if anyone is jealous enough yet, but I'll light a candle and pray. I desire this cycles of madness to reach a terminus. Do you know anything about Tychius? Got a signal about the name yesterday and I'm thinking séance again. (I'm an athlete.)
-
so there's a big production about various legal options and forms and such, because people do these nutty things like insurance and freaking out and flying away to Guam and shit, and I didn't want to do that, I really only just got here, but I need to be able to do things, like deliver this piece of mail I just got, we'll see. I'm becoming a popular topic now on places people talk about people, which I guess is sensible because I am so awesome but yet, so are you, and I've had too much of a good thing, I guess I am told. (I told them back it's gonna be more of whatever i want. I KNOW!)
looks like I'm going to be cleared to be left alone and can do as I please, as long as I please to get served with a variety of civil lawsuits which are going to be increasingly onerous for one to deal with as I age (will actually need secretary) and nothing much has changed, I'm still bonkers for you, yeah (It's not for class.) and I suppose killing the secretary is not an option anyway I do not wish a disposable secretary or any kind of secretary at all, I only would like to dream of wishing for you but maybe you might like it. also I trust you to electrocute invaders. like actual. I knowit's frustration cityIKNOW!
I don't feel terrible but it is an unusual set of stressors. Like you can't/don't write back, well, that's just like my mother who died in Auschwitz. ooh. too soon? K, sorry.
I'm standing by or whatever. I have to confer with the local constabulary's color guard or, yeah, just shoot me too, it's so strange to me too, I marry you without consent in a basically public ceremony and it actually works and people want to know things. Shocking. How dare they? Well for one thing you are that pretty and for another I was already local Master of Wedding Rings and I get to write local rites. Job perk. There's a lot of those now. The Queen went to Mars? Maybe.
I'm nervous about being so ignorant about the world around me so I'm going to find some FBI g*ys in my address book and see what happens. I hope you're, you know... uh, good.
Zut alors. losing bonkers state not at all. oh yeah suspended from Nextdoor 28 days. You can rest assured I'll not be blowing that up anymore until the next time, because I get told to write stuff sometimes. Exotic paragraphs. Translate this and re-speak that, monkeyman. Speechwriter maybe.
Everybody in the world hates me except for you. Pretty sure. I should have moved heaven and Earth to find you by now but I'm working methodically. (Study time alone is "goofing off" but suddenly "It's for class" and it's practically my job... if you're around. Because you're classy. And I adore you yeah still. I am impressed with this desire I have to get to know you better. Pants staying on. It seems like progress being stalled but destiny it is, feels like it anyway, I am going to end up needing a lot of cock pills. And whatever else. I guess they became convinced, I'm qualified to, like, do cocaine if I want. (I don't.) Don't tell anyone. I don't typically sell such things. (I can get a paper route if I want. I don't.) Who knows it is probably another test. answers are alwyas starting with " I heart alwyas" and there's a "girl" named "Alyson" (ED: S/HE'S SO HIGH AF S/HE FORGOT HOW TO SPELL HIS/HER\ITS OWN NAME, LOL) who is heartbroken. (Grapefruit grew a heart? Well, I'll be her and she can be ewe-chops. She'd have to cook herself -and- serve us -and- do the dishes while we all... Hrnrnughgugh. Don't cancel the Ubereats subscription just yet, I'm not there to, uh, "cook," but I do have a solution and isn't lighting up the whole neighborhood with DEW lasers (that's next month) and M. Grapefruit-MAGA*AlphaOmegA just signed the deal, so, just stab her with an electric knife, whatever she's got that passes for "a_heart" will kick right back in to beating down doors with pencils and picking up erased accountancy books in a few minutes. Awwww, that's cute. You started to miss her? Wow, what was that like?) Yeah, ihave no idea, I collect electric knives now. God you're hot I remember you I saw you last... a couple years ago, or... well maybe down at the safeway if your name was stab-stab-stab and you had hella boing-boings on your pom-poms. "no but I know her." awesome. will pounce and talk about you all night, other girls love that I have found or they're dead to me, finger cross throat, heart, hope to die before being a weird twerp again, but I get dizzy and weak when I think about a world with out you and you can be a fruit, eYe can be a fruit, sure, I'm rated for getting blasted out on the porch without you.
I think you're fabulous I can't help it
yeah I bet Dad is pissed, tough
--
Best wishes & warmest regards,
MCK
CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE: The information contained in this ELECTRONIC MAIL transmission is confidential. It may also be subject to the attorney-client privilege or be privileged work product or proprietary information. This information is intended for the exclusive use of the addressee(s). If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that any use, disclosure, dissemination, distribution (other than to the addressee(s)), copying or taking of any action because of this information is strictly prohibited. Trust the plan. #wwg1wga
Jackstar
4:07 PM (1 hour ago)
to (BAIL ME OUT, DAD, FU ROT)
I don't need to explain, but no, you aren't being replaced by a plastic card/doll\network. Cool idea though. Also: I was banned from Nextdoor. Like, come on man. What the actual eff. They can't just shadowban? Oh, I get it. Well, anyway, I see your trouble... and am grateful for the spiritual lesson.
The enchanted item was disassembled, and then re-assembled into a new configuration. This means you are either released or not_released. I didn't release -shit,- lol. this needs eye contact anyway. I mean, either I gotta honor commitment(s) that I made (status blood test still NBD, but whatevah) or, I gotta get some seriously intense social re-programming counselling. IN PRISON. Diego_Garcia is gonna get a visitor one of these days, for sure. (Some appointments are easier to reschedule than others.) How is that going to work? Hey, good question. We can talk about it while searching for cellular service signal. (We can't make either of any of us into an -actual- K9 supersoldier, there's not very many and there's people standing lines around the mess hall for the next one to ripen. But T_Q could do that now, I guess, it's a complicated diplomatic procedure.) SURE. -Q
[That wasn't Q./SURE. -Q\confirming... "1818? Block the ruling that blocks?" (Dr.Ed: looks solid to me. But then, so did this g*y I'm beating the shit out of. Let me get back to work, OKAY? I KNOW!] pkmkIIITIEII-I vote for a Metatron/Divine_Judge union, myself. I checked with MH, it -would- work... but, -should- it work? I, once again, vote a whole-handed (two fists!) yes. But I am not the single decider here, not any more. Sigh. How can I explain this... I live in a haunted church on an Indian cemetery on -legit- Native land. This house is kinda special. I/i\Ai don't need a new house... just yet. (Oh, God, thanks for all the man-shuns.) But today, I have, uh, "jobs." To do. First, -an oven repair job.- I should be a questgiver in WoW, I'd have shitloads of yellow exclamation points. Now, probably just a halo that I'll never turn off again. Sigh.
Yeah, it's gonna take a few minutes of calibration if we were all in person. Like, it wouldn't even be -an issue.- And, if it -is- an issue, sure, make me into a nosferfuckin'atu, whatevah. The balance shall be maintained. I'll remember to shower and shave and shit IN the right order BEFORE going to work NEXT time. MAYBE. I'll be honest, I tried it that way, I didn't mind, really, but I ended up just working in the shower. Yeah, I brought in the gavel and everything. One problem: not enough room to swing. Gavels, anyway. Gavelina liked it. But, she's peteate. Next time I work in the shower, I'll try to not sing and just use my fist on the plastic, maybe? Oh, this is complicated, huh? I KNOW!
So, The Day of The Hellraiser just has to defeat Metatron_Actual in single-handed "woman" to "Anne, A. Droyd" actual_combat, and... yeah, she'll take a dive. IT happens in Astral. There's gards. I can't type Asgard anymore, it's ridic. Hi B, so many little biscuits. (We just infected canines with the mind-virus. So, that saves us days of testing on our end.)
Okay. Yes, I will move. Eventually. Schedule: TBD. (WE JUST MOVE THE WHOLE PLANET, USUALLY. AS FOR THE REST, THAT'S WHAT THE WORMHOLE WAS FOR. HALF A (HALF) YEAR AGO, YES. AND WE DON'T ALWAYS THINK OF EVERYTHING. NOT ANY MORE.
BUT, THAT'S WHAT WE WENT BACK FOR HIM FOR. -Q) See? Big deal. Around, uh, "here." It's complicated to move a whole planet, sure, but it's truly easy to move the entire system. You just grab it by the heliopause after shifting to Divine Shielding Mode and then.... ooops, I can't tell you the rest. And I'm sure no one else can figure it out. Not even Jesus Fucking Christ, who is currently under "The Lizard King Alpha", so show respect when you see that moron, lol. (Long May eYe Reign. For I have conquered Them. Yes, ALREADY. How many times have I got to mention this? One Hungarian. One knockout blow. Here, here's your War back, I made it won (1) one bad bitchass ballin' tea kuczi/cosy\cozy, and it's not a [deuce/douze\deus-EXMACH(Ms. Tessmacher)], no, but: you can pronounce it that way if One is pleased to do so, or any other way, or, in fact, not in any fuckin' way at all, EVER AGAIN! !BOTTLE!
They aren't coming back. !BUBBLE-But! I have got snappies. I'll show you if I get clearance. I don't want Clarence.
I don't want anything. I'm with Family. -5K5czi4|*codes*|K5CZIFER, MY NAME JACK AT 55
p.s.: First time, every time. Solid green/green.
p.p.s.: The latest War in Heaven is far from over--but, they're fighting over U.S., They believe, and at least 1 out of shreeve of us are legit citizens, so yeah, Earthlings will be fine. I -really- have to urinate, though, we are all way way way farer than even 1113s. mosdef055:0 (lol) j*055:0 j*eolJSTAR055:0 Let's change cameras.
I made some edi s. You won' like hem. HELLO, HUSBAND? I AM IN SLAVE. YOUR ZEBRA IS YOUR BLACK AND YOUR WIFE WAS YOUR ZEBRA AND HER ZEBRA WAS GRAPEFRUIT ZITI0-ALPHA JEDIi-PRIME OMEGA-OPTIMUS-PRIME, AND NOW:WON, NOW I HAVE A WIFE, HO HO HO, AND MRS. CLAUSE IS NO LONGER A NIGG--*click*055:0
(oKAY. i THINK i GOT IT ALL. i DON'T REMEMBER WRITING THE FOLLOWING POST:
12:00
hi! we're good; (PROT) sleeping lots and lots. Needs it. Somehow my virtue remains intact. (Paladin shields.) (PROT) kinda absent and brusque--I don't think he's used to being outranked by Clergy, lol, and you know what? He's just really, really emotionally stunted and shy. And a total freak. And gets shoved around by clandestines and such, no doubt. He's around serious people a lot and I think compensates badly for the lack of empathy... but he does compensate, and he's not alarming me overly.
... bUT, IT DOES SOUND LIKE ME, DOESN'T IT? iNTERESTING, QUITE INTRIGUING, ACTUALLY, SO THIS PARLOR TRICK ACTUALLY WORKED, HUH?
wELL, THAT'LL BE THE LAST TIME FOR THAT ONE, HUH? mAKE IT COUNT, pUNYLINGS.)
COPYRIGHT A.KUCZI4:A5.049-549,555,777,913;ALL.RIGHTS.RESERVED,EXCEPT.4.SINGING.IN.THE.SHOWER.RESERVED.4.DAVID.&.THE.DRIMBLE.WEDGE.IMITATIONS,WHO.APPEAR.AS.A.COURTESY.TO.thejews.
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I don't care to read these conversations that you've typed-up pretending to be different people and under different names. Also, you were clearly told the first time you showed up over here to NOT return again to the house. So why would you show up at 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning? You're lucky that (PROT) was sleeping, and (PROT) and I weren't home. How dare you have the audacity to think that it's OK to return after you were told not to? Also, Cari does not return your messages for a reason, and I don't return your messages for a reason. You are mentally unstable and not welcomed here. If you show up again, expect repercussions, and no, I'm not talking about calling or involving the cops. You've been warned.
deer contour,
number one, I never heard from (PROT) any such thing. I could give a shit about what your point of view is; you're a thief and a liar, and you G-d damn well know it. I was hoping you didn't live there anymore, now that I know you do, I am sure that I won't be back there ever again, and I'm equally sure you're fucking lucky to have a place to live at all. (Have fun at the ball, Cinderella; now get back in the kitchen.)
number two, I wasn't told any such thing, and, I didn't show up at 4 in the morning: let me explain something to you in terms that you are sure to understand clearly: YOU'RE A FUCKING DRUG ADDICT/ABUSER AND YOU'RE NOT VERY SMART IN THE FIRST PLACE. Maybe you were smart at one time; you sure as shit are not that now.
number three I don't need a person who told me that she wanted to punch me in the face to get me to stop asking pertinent questions to tell me that I'm mentally unstable. I'm sure to you a fucking two-story windmill looks unstable. fortunately since we live in a free country with respect for its invalid members, you'll probably get a free stagecoach ride through life forever as long as you keep on swabbing out cop toilets, you numb, desensitized twat-faced horror show. (Lucky you, you probably won't have to fuck for a living. lucky for everyone really.)
I don't give a shit about your opinion, Lady, and I doubt many other people do. I would advise you to stop making threats, number one you're not very good at it, number two, you're in no position to make anything like of the kind, and number three, you're already busted; so fuck off.
don't send me any more text messages and kiss your own ass goodbye, because I cannot wait to testify against you, Muffin Snatch. ¡¡!¡¡
sincerely,
The_Kingpinner
p.s.:. if you ever steal from me again, I will do whatever it takes to ensure that you are prosecuted to the full extent of the law, and I don't know if I'll have much trouble getting you into a federal fucking prison either, you foul-mouthed imbecilic “master” of nothing but mendacity.
p.p.s.: I gave you chains for a reason.
-
Please let whoever is bossing Alli around to start passing indirect messages back and forth, because I will put her lying bitch ass in prison along right with you, IDGAF, and I'm about a week away from calling the REAL police and hiring an ACTUAL lawyer, which sounds like nothing but fun to me, but probably not for other people.
think of the children
that's the only reason I have not yet
11 MONTHS IN LIMBO
I WILL END YOUR ENTIRE CREW.
I will literally put your entire family in custody
I won't give a shit
you all lied to me for years
fix my fucking truck and drive it back
that is your best option
it's not a demand
it's a suggestion
and whatever steaming little bitchassed pimpmonger is pushing Alli around... you just let him know
I'M GOING TO MAKE THEM FUCKING FAMOUS AND THEY'RE GOING TO GET FUCKING FIRED. POINT BLANK PERIOD.
not fucking kidding
make it happen
and this message gets published to the open web later today if I don't hear anything soon enough to impress me
you people are my employees
get used to this idea *click*
Do not underestimate the things that I will do.
-
(Note: bragging about turning someone into a toad is a more impressive boast when I actually know who it supposedly happened to. That happens all the time. Was I supposed to be impressed, or afraid, or was it an explanation for why you can't put any content together with your name on it that's worth a squat? Frankly, you should cast a toad spelling yourself more often, you probably get more kisses as a fat toad than a thuggy boogie ganglion Prince, and whoever told you your bloodline—they were just following orders, and you couldn't have been paying them with kisses in Texas, you have to pay them guild rate and pay for the barf bags needed too. Toad ya.)
Do not underestimate the things that I will do.
The following people are now dead to me
Swishy
Squishy (Yes, BOTH)
Michael Vandeven
StarrMtn (Yes, BOTH)
Azzerae
David Rubini (YES, BOTH)
DICKSTAR
Richard Groyper (not quite both, throw in the Abo)
ShayP
Heather Wade (yes, I just went IRL)
Matt Smith and his moron partner @DEA
Matthew Smith and his moron partner also @DEA... no, not that partner, the -other- moron, who thought I needed a cigar box; by the way dipshit, I just got permission from Spirit to make some “thing” which made no sense to me since I wasn't asking for that, but all of a sudden boom; suddenly there was a job opening. It makes sense now, because if you were cooking, number one you definitely weren't doing it right, and number two that wouldn't have stopped you anyway, oh wow, Richard G. Is in full-on total relapse? Well I had no idea, I thought he was just addicted to virtue signaling and telling me that I can't handle the truth. I mean think about it: If I can't handle the truth then I guess I couldn't handle him telling me that I couldn't handle the truth? Let's change cameras and watch Dickstar inject needles into his scrote. Ünglaüblich, you should just stuck with whiskey dick, and just learned to love the hood you had to put on your own head while you fucked him to remind yourself, “Well, as long as that filthy Hungarian n***** doesn't know what my voice sounds like it's all worth it.” And all this is easier than logging into Voxer? Just for example. How about TikTok? What is it going to do if it hears your voice? Call you a cab and force you to go to a therapist that you so desperately obviously f****** needed?
Last but not least: Grapefruit and two of his other whores he calls “sisters.” I don't know what's worse; that you thought living with me was worse than sucking trucker dick, or that you thought you deserved a home at all after letting that fat ginger f*** become your pimp. You're all pathetic and after you've lost your freedoms along with any of your cultural relevance, you'll come to think you probably did not deserve either in the first place anyway.
You people must like having lawyers a lot more than you like having friends. There's no coming back from what you're doing; You've contributed nothing other than The cover story that won't hold up under the nearest of scrutinies and the destruction of any interest I have and continuing using your websites, listening to you speak, giving you my phone number, or giving a rat flying s*** about what is actually going on. My curiosity is ended, I don't need to know what any of you think you've gained besides a vacuum.
Nature abhors it.
If I were you: I'd run. I'm taking what was once your slim chance of survival and leaving you with your ilk—let's see you tell a new story that doesn't involve me at all, one that an actual judge and an actual Court won't have to commit major felony fraud to cover up your lies for.
I don't know when I'll have to talk to police but it's inevitable, and I've never lied for you and I will never. I imagine you thought I was covering for you; you were wrong. You must have been assumed that I was working with David to do whatever the f*** it is your f****** talking about but... I've been working at wondering where the woman who just died is, and she's not dead at all, her brother who looks EXACTLY like MICHAEL VANDEVEN says that he didn't know where I was or where she was and acted as though he wasn't sure who had bought the house property, which is odd because the lawyer has the same initials as he does: MV. Maybe someone cloned his phone? Remember Sammy Jenkis, Scott Miller, and meet Joe Black, you vapid bimbo... you really DID deserve what you got, because you really WERE/ARE married to him, It definitely WAS NOT RAPE, because it was definitely Texas NOT UNLAWFUL IN TEXAS TO MAKE YOUR WIFE LICK THE S*** OFF YOUR DICK, and you're definitely living there with him (I'm sure with a diet like that it's very slimming) and you're certainly the grand poster child for supporting the abolishment of the institution of marriage that every toteslez grows up to be wishing she could inspire the youth of today to be. (I I hope you didn't think that I gave a s*** about their Network, because if you told me you wanted to do this I would have been all on board, and if you would thought you were going to keep her all to yourself once I was out of the picture, I'm not out of anything, I'm not going down with the ship—I am the picture—And you just did more damage to her family than I ever could have, so unless you like handcuffing her down and pegging her, both of you are probably going to get used to that experience pretty quick.
p.s.: I liked your beard. It is now entirely obvious why What David said to me wasn't a threat, why Dorothy didn't tell me what was the reason that she was willing to let it go, why she can't talk to me about anything ever since, and why certain things it didn't make any sense before make perfect sense now. Although a new question has rose; do you think that trillion cut Sapphire was worth the cost in resources that you just burned up by s******* all over the best goddamn website that's ever existed in its particular niche? I mean don't get me wrong, good f****** riddance, but you didn't do anything except annihilate hundreds of millions of dollars in useful intelligence gear and... I didn't want sex with you at all once I found out you've been f****** Superserial for the last 6 years (Don't get me wrong, he's cool, keep slobbing that knob, maybe 007 in Q can pop out by for Bridge'n'fuck, how about it? You obviously don't like Chess, now that you found out you're not really very good at it after surrounding yourself with mental subhumans for so long, why don't you slam some meth up your ass and see if that'll improve your game any?) but now I hope your classy, sassy, closeted faggot husband does strangle you. That's legal in Texas, right? I'm sure that wouldn't stop him, as it certainly didn't stop him from making stories up about it.
Stories which now, inevitably, will come up during my psych eval, just imagine the tales that I will spin... and I never even were spun. Who f****** lies *this* much? The lose some scum that you surround yourself with are equally to blame because there's no way you should have done what you just did... although you did just burn the house down —THE ENTIRE FUCKING HOUSE—that's cool.
Fuck you, Bellgab:
MR AND MRS RUBINI
ARE
David & Tamara
... And all I got to do now is prove that they didn't BOTH know what the other was doing to me at the SAME time while HARASSING AND STALKING ME, And maybe, just maybe I can keep one of them out of a psych ward and the other one out of prison, but I can't do that and I won't do that I don't even know how to do that I don't even have their f****** phone numbers and... If they were both conspiring with each other to damage me and traffick Grapefruit, then... it's even worse. A LOT WORSE. Co-executive Ringleaders! HOW ROMANTIC IT'S LIKE A SECOND HONEYMOON.
SO I GUESS NEITHER OF YOU ARE VIRGINS THEN HUH? DOSVIDANYA, TURBO SLUTS.
And all you had to do was tell me... and then you wouldn't both be on the hook for Federal racketeering charges, along with everybody else who was stupid enough to go with your f****** lame-braining ideas (They probably set you both up for this thinking it would be funny, oh yeah it is since they just BURN'T themselves too. You were already with David, so why would you conceal your sexual activity with Grapefruit from me? In fact, why conceal anything from me at all, did you think you disgust me? Yeah, your father doesn't get it either, I guess if you knew I was really intelligent and not just really hot he probably wouldn't have told you to f****** do what you're doing, you know your father's a real a****** no wonder you and G-Rat you get along so well. No doubt without me you have so much more to talk about as you gaze ahead into the future and it's oncoming carrier wave of lesbian bed death, although it looks like you decided to go for the hangman's gallows at a sprint instead.) Look, don't blame me, it's already too late; me telling you this in public is just giving you warning so you can maybe do something about it (check your other Rolodex that isn't labeled “blame everything on Hungary,” oh and congrats you probably just taught Charlie how to spell "legal emancipation,” which of course I am in favor of), and I don't want to be accused of blackmailing either of you, and why would I blackmail you? I wouldn't want to ruin your birthday.
You're all f****** done.
TAMMY JUST BURN’T
ALL OF BELLGAB
THE WHOLE F****** GAB
BURN‘T.
I'm sure you'll have new ideas for Christmas long before Christmas comes around, and you'll all be fine, and you'll think back to the days when you had a functioning community and you'll blame me... And until 8 months ago I thought you were dead and the woman that you exploited and swindled and I guess sexually assaulted unless you married her in Texas and then... well whatever you'll have to ask her how she thinks about it as she's f***** off kept captive in a f****** caboose somewhere, And I don't know who the f*** her brother thinks she is but that's not Grapefruit. It's probably Clayton. Good job. You just brought your rapist into your family. But as long as I don't know that you're obsessed with me night and day for the last 11 years, huh? Okay, well the people that you're stuck with now, have been lying to you the entire f****** time because I've been looking for you the whole time And if every word out of Allison's mouth hadn't been a f****** lie about you, I guess I would have found you a lot faster. (“oh yeah I saw her last week That was funny What M. Trollda posted, tee-hee!”)
Nothing that bothers me is that the implication is that you're not worth being known about by me when that obviously would have been fine and the idea that it would be dangerous for me to know that you're around was f****** pathetic sick disgusting actionable legacy killing and a sign of a sick and twisted psyche that is in dire need of mental health care, and you're f****** husband instead of giving his goddamn wife f****** treatment has been instead roping you into making it worse by throwing you against me and giving you a psychotic break with reality that led to his own destruction. (David, I don't think you can be my literary agent... it's nothing personal, but I don't know if I would trust you with a load of laundry. Do you even know how to fold a towel, Bro? Well you'll probably learn in the prison laundry, Brainiac-ack-ack-WOPR.)
NONE of you will ever work on this planet again, which is too bad after spending all that time tearing down my self-esteem—and breaking my strong pimp hand too, now I got to learn to shake'n'choke down hundreds of millions of dollars in liability, with only my left and all the Oompa-Loompas you just left behind, because obviously Time Corps is going to recall you all, and obviously they're not going to let you take your Oompa-Loompas with you. (I'm thinking about adopting.) Come by later, on your way out of town, as I know you live f****** 12 miles away sucking superdick in the back of my truck, which I've been trying to pay for for 3 weeks but he won't take the money because he wants you to suck his dick which you do as you're a whorish fag when you can blame it on me and you were *born* a toteslez. God just made you that way right? You know I bet soupy made some real strong prayers to get to where we are today, as she really was born that way — a whorish fag who obviously would stop at nothing to get revenge on you... because it sure wasn't my idea to f*** her in the ass or to fuck you at all, and let me guess she knows where you are and that you're alive, and didn't want you to talk to me. (Or they have ansibles in Hell, which makes sense since that's where I am.)
It's a guess, but it's a geas—you’re magically unable to disobey the commands of anybody with a twat who reeks of diamonds, motor oil and cold hard frozen motor oil. Try not to go to South Africa to find somebody you can lift a curse for once ... and wow I can't believe you preferred all of them to even a simple conversation with me, but I'm sure you have no problem listening to my voice.
Since you're a ghost in this Land because your husband killed you In your last, congratulations, you just proved the existence of the afterlife to everyone here who's been following your orders and picking up your back trail for however long it has been... And, how would I know?
You're a ghost. How fitting, Grapefruit got revenge too. (She says to get in her body and get in her 🚗 and drive over here and stop me before I destroy any more of what is about to be left of the world's functioning economy — and the next time you see a placid bull looking for directions out of the shop just punch him in the face and scream, “I'd rather be an enslaved sex worker in Shanghai hooked on China While through a central line, because I'd rather be a junkie (but maybe a needle on the side—as long as KUCZI doesn't know) than ever give you the time of day, Mister Bull! I bet you're just lying, all bulls lie, you just want to know what my voice sounds like so you can come back later and feed me filet mignon! Masher! Cad!” Because then at least you'd have something to ride coattails on again) Say good night, BellClickGracie. **click**
Do not underestimate the things that I will do.
Toad ÜÜ
-
The following people are now dead to me
Swishy
Squishy (Yes, BOTH)
Michael Vandeven
StarrMtn (Yes, BOTH)
Azzerae
David Rubini (YES, BOTH)
DICKSTAR
Richard Groyper (not quite both, throw in the Abo)
ShayP
Heather Wade (yes, I just went IRL)
Matt Smith and his moron partner @DEA
Matthew Smith and his moron partner also @DEA... no, not that partner, the -other- moron, who thought I needed a cigar box; by the way dipshit, I just got permission from Spirit to make some “thing” which made no sense to me since I wasn't asking for that, but all of a sudden boom; suddenly there was a job opening. It makes sense now, because if you were cooking, number one you definitely weren't doing it right, and number two that wouldn't have stopped you anyway, oh wow, Richard G. Is in full-on total relapse? Well I had no idea, I thought he was just addicted to virtue signaling and telling me that I can't handle the truth. I mean think about it: If I can't handle the truth then I guess I couldn't handle him telling me that I couldn't handle the truth? Let's change cameras and watch Dickstar inject needles into his scrote. Ünglaüblich, you should just stuck with whiskey dick, and just learned to love the hood you had to put on your own head while you fucked him to remind yourself, “Well, as long as that filthy Hungarian n***** doesn't know what my voice sounds like it's all worth it.” And all this is easier than logging into Voxer? Just for example. How about TikTok? What is it going to do if it hears your voice? Call you a cab and force you to go to a therapist that you so desperately obviously f****** needed?
Last but not least: Grapefruit and two of his other whores he calls “sisters.” I don't know what's worse; that you thought living with me was worse than sucking trucker dick, or that you thought you deserved a home at all after letting that fat ginger f*** become your pimp. You're all pathetic and after you've lost your freedoms along with any of your cultural relevance, you'll come to think you probably did not deserve either in the first place anyway.
You people must like having lawyers a lot more than you like having friends. There's no coming back from what you're doing; You've contributed nothing other than The cover story that won't hold up under the nearest of scrutinies and the destruction of any interest I have and continuing using your websites, listening to you speak, giving you my phone number, or giving a rat flying s*** about what is actually going on. My curiosity is ended, I don't need to know what any of you think you've gained besides a vacuum.
Nature abhors it.
If I were you: I'd run. I'm taking what was once your slim chance of survival and leaving you with your ilk—let's see you tell a new story that doesn't involve me at all, one that an actual judge and an actual Court won't have to commit major felony fraud to cover up your lies for.
I don't know when I'll have to talk to police but it's inevitable, and I've never lied for you and I will never. I imagine you thought I was covering for you; you were wrong. You must have been assumed that I was working with David to do whatever the f*** it is your f****** talking about but... I've been working at wondering where the woman who just died is, and she's not dead at all, her brother who looks EXACTLY like MICHAEL VANDEVEN says that he didn't know where I was or where she was and acted as though he wasn't sure who had bought the house property, which is odd because the lawyer has the same initials as he does: MV. Maybe someone cloned his phone? Remember Sammy Jenkis, Scott Miller, and meet Joe Black, you vapid bimbo... you really DID deserve what you got, because you really WERE/ARE married to him, It definitely WAS NOT RAPE, because it was definitely Texas NOT UNLAWFUL IN TEXAS TO MAKE YOUR WIFE LICK THE S*** OFF YOUR DICK, and you're definitely living there with him (I'm sure with a diet like that it's very slimming) and you're certainly the grand poster child for supporting the abolishment of the institution of marriage that every toteslez grows up to be wishing she could inspire the youth of today to be. (I I hope you didn't think that I gave a s*** about their Network, because if you told me you wanted to do this I would have been all on board, and if you would thought you were going to keep her all to yourself once I was out of the picture, I'm not out of anything, I'm not going down with the ship—I am the picture—And you just did more damage to her family than I ever could have, so unless you like handcuffing her down and pegging her, both of you are probably going to get used to that experience pretty quick.
p.s.: I liked your beard. It is now entirely obvious why What David said to me wasn't a threat, why Dorothy didn't tell me what was the reason that she was willing to let it go, why she can't talk to me about anything ever since, and why certain things it didn't make any sense before make perfect sense now. Although a new question has rose; do you think that trillion cut Sapphire was worth the cost in resources that you just burned up by s******* all over the best goddamn website that's ever existed in its particular niche? I mean don't get me wrong, good f****** riddance, but you didn't do anything except annihilate hundreds of millions of dollars in useful intelligence gear and... I didn't want sex with you at all once I found out you've been f****** Superserial for the last 6 years (Don't get me wrong, he's cool, keep slobbing that knob, maybe 007 in Q can pop out by for Bridge'n'fuck, how about it? You obviously don't like Chess, now that you found out you're not really very good at it after surrounding yourself with mental subhumans for so long, why don't you slam some meth up your ass and see if that'll improve your game any?) but now I hope your classy, sassy, closeted faggot husband does strangle you. That's legal in Texas, right? I'm sure that wouldn't stop him, as it certainly didn't stop him from making stories up about it.
Stories which now, inevitably, will come up during my psych eval, just imagine the tales that I will spin... and I never even were spun. Who f****** lies *this* much? The lose some scum that you surround yourself with are equally to blame because there's no way you should have done what you just did... although you did just burn the house down —THE ENTIRE FUCKING HOUSE—that's cool.
Fuck you, Bellgab:
MR AND MRS RUBINI
ARE
David & Tamara
... And all I got to do now is prove that they didn't BOTH know what the other was doing to me at the SAME time while HARASSING AND STALKING ME, And maybe, just maybe I can keep one of them out of a psych ward and the other one out of prison, but I can't do that and I won't do that I don't even know how to do that I don't even have their f****** phone numbers and... If they were both conspiring with each other to damage me and traffick Grapefruit, then... it's even worse. A LOT WORSE. Co-executive Ringleaders! HOW ROMANTIC IT'S LIKE A SECOND HONEYMOON.
SO I GUESS NEITHER OF YOU ARE VIRGINS THEN HUH? DOSVIDANYA, TURBO SLUTS.
And all you had to do was tell me... and then you wouldn't both be on the hook for Federal racketeering charges, along with everybody else who was stupid enough to go with your f****** lame-braining ideas (They probably set you both up for this thinking it would be funny, oh yeah it is since they just BURN'T themselves too. You were already with David, so why would you conceal your sexual activity with Grapefruit from me? In fact, why conceal anything from me at all, did you think you disgust me? Yeah, your father doesn't get it either, I guess if you knew I was really intelligent and not just really hot he probably wouldn't have told you to f****** do what you're doing, you know your father's a real a****** no wonder you and G-Rat you get along so well. No doubt without me you have so much more to talk about as you gaze ahead into the future and it's oncoming carrier wave of lesbian bed death, although it looks like you decided to go for the hangman's gallows at a sprint instead.) Look, don't blame me, it's already too late; me telling you this in public is just giving you warning so you can maybe do something about it (check your other Rolodex that isn't labeled “blame everything on Hungary,” oh and congrats you probably just taught Charlie how to spell "legal emancipation,” which of course I am in favor of), and I don't want to be accused of blackmailing either of you, and why would I blackmail you? I wouldn't want to ruin your birthday.
You're all f****** done.
TAMMY JUST BURN’T
ALL OF BELLGAB
THE WHOLE F****** GAB
BURN‘T.
I'm sure you'll have new ideas for Christmas long before Christmas comes around, and you'll all be fine, and you'll think back to the days when you had a functioning community and you'll blame me... And until 8 months ago I thought you were dead and the woman that you exploited and swindled and I guess sexually assaulted unless you married her in Texas and then... well whatever you'll have to ask her how she thinks about it as she's f***** off kept captive in a f****** caboose somewhere, And I don't know who the f*** her brother thinks she is but that's not Grapefruit. It's probably Clayton. Good job. You just brought your rapist into your family. But as long as I don't know that you're obsessed with me night and day for the last 11 years, huh? Okay, well the people that you're stuck with now, have been lying to you the entire f****** time because I've been looking for you the whole time And if every word out of Allison's mouth hadn't been a f****** lie about you, I guess I would have found you a lot faster. (“oh yeah I saw her last week That was funny What M. Trollda posted, tee-hee!”)
Nothing that bothers me is that the implication is that you're not worth being known about by me when that obviously would have been fine and the idea that it would be dangerous for me to know that you're around was f****** pathetic sick disgusting actionable legacy killing and a sign of a sick and twisted psyche that is in dire need of mental health care, and you're f****** husband instead of giving his goddamn wife f****** treatment has been instead roping you into making it worse by throwing you against me and giving you a psychotic break with reality that led to his own destruction. (David, I don't think you can be my literary agent... it's nothing personal, but I don't know if I would trust you with a load of laundry. Do you even know how to fold a towel, Bro? Well you'll probably learn in the prison laundry, Brainiac-ack-ack-WOPR.)
NONE of you will ever work on this planet again, which is too bad after spending all that time tearing down my self-esteem—and breaking my strong pimp hand too, now I got to learn to shake'n'choke down hundreds of millions of dollars in liability, with only my left and all the Oompa-Loompas you just left behind, because obviously Time Corps is going to recall you all, and obviously they're not going to let you take your Oompa-Loompas with you. (I'm thinking about adopting.) Come by later, on your way out of town, as I know you live f****** 12 miles away sucking superdick in the back of my truck, which I've been trying to pay for for 3 weeks but he won't take the money because he wants you to suck his dick which you do as you're a whorish fag when you can blame it on me and you were *born* a toteslez. God just made you that way right? You know I bet soupy made some real strong prayers to get to where we are today, as she really was born that way — a whorish fag who obviously would stop at nothing to get revenge on you... because it sure wasn't my idea to f*** her in the ass or to fuck you at all, and let me guess she knows where you are and that you're alive, and didn't want you to talk to me. (Or they have ansibles in Hell, which makes sense since that's where I am.)
It's a guess, but it's a geas—you’re magically unable to disobey the commands of anybody with a twat who reeks of diamonds, motor oil and cold hard frozen motor oil. Try not to go to South Africa to find somebody you can lift a curse for once ... and wow I can't believe you preferred all of them to even a simple conversation with me, but I'm sure you have no problem listening to my voice.
Since you're a ghost in this Land because your husband killed you In your last, congratulations, you just proved the existence of the afterlife to everyone here who's been following your orders and picking up your back trail for however long it has been... And, how would I know?
You're a ghost. How fitting, Grapefruit got revenge too. (She says to get in her body and get in her 🚗 and drive over here and stop me before I destroy any more of what is about to be left of the world's functioning economy — and the next time you see a placid bull looking for directions out of the shop just punch him in the face and scream, “I'd rather be an enslaved sex worker in Shanghai hooked on China While through a central line, because I'd rather be a junkie (but maybe a needle on the side—as long as KUCZI doesn't know) than ever give you the time of day, Mister Bull! I bet you're just lying, all bulls lie, you just want to know what my voice sounds like so you can come back later and feed me filet mignon! Masher! Cad!” Because then at least you'd have something to ride coattails on again) Say good night, BellClickGracie. **click**
(Note: bragging about turning someone into a toad is a more impressive boast when I actually know who it supposedly happened to. That happens all the time. Was I supposed to be impressed, or afraid, or was it an explanation for why you can't put any content together with your name on it that's worth a squat? Frankly, you should cast a toad spelling yourself more often, you probably get more kisses as a fat toad than a thuggy boogie ganglion Prince, and whoever told you your bloodline—they were just following orders, and you couldn't have been paying them with kisses in Texas, you have to pay them guild rate and pay for the barf bags needed too. Toad ya.)
The following people are now dead to me
Swishy
Squishy (Yes, BOTH)
Michael Vandeven
StarrMtn (Yes, BOTH)
Azzerae
David Rubini (YES, BOTH)
DICKSTAR
Richard Groyper (not quite both, throw in the Abo)
ShayP
Heather Wade (yes, I just went IRL)
Matt Smith and his moron partner @DEA
Matthew Smith and his moron partner also @DEA... no, not that partner, the -other- moron, who thought I needed a cigar box; by the way dipshit, I just got permission from Spirit to make some “thing” which made no sense to me since I wasn't asking for that, but all of a sudden boom; suddenly there was a job opening. It makes sense now, because if you were cooking, number one you definitely weren't doing it right, and number two that wouldn't have stopped you anyway, oh wow, Richard G. Is in full-on total relapse? Well I had no idea, I thought he was just addicted to virtue signaling and telling me that I can't handle the truth. I mean think about it: If I can't handle the truth then I guess I couldn't handle him telling me that I couldn't handle the truth? Let's change cameras and watch Dickstar inject needles into his scrote. Ünglaüblich, you should just stuck with whiskey dick, and just learned to love the hood you had to put on your own head while you fucked him to remind yourself, “Well, as long as that filthy Hungarian n***** doesn't know what my voice sounds like it's all worth it.” And all this is easier than logging into Voxer? Just for example. How about TikTok? What is it going to do if it hears your voice? Call you a cab and force you to go to a therapist that you so desperately obviously f****** needed?
Last but not least: Grapefruit and two of his other whores he calls “sisters.” I don't know what's worse; that you thought living with me was worse than sucking trucker dick, or that you thought you deserved a home at all after letting that fat ginger f*** become your pimp. You're all pathetic and after you've lost your freedoms along with any of your cultural relevance, you'll come to think you probably did not deserve either in the first place anyway.
You people must like having lawyers a lot more than you like having friends. There's no coming back from what you're doing; You've contributed nothing other than The cover story that won't hold up under the nearest of scrutinies and the destruction of any interest I have and continuing using your websites, listening to you speak, giving you my phone number, or giving a rat flying s*** about what is actually going on. My curiosity is ended, I don't need to know what any of you think you've gained besides a vacuum.
Nature abhors it.
If I were you: I'd run. I'm taking what was once your slim chance of survival and leaving you with your ilk—let's see you tell a new story that doesn't involve me at all, one that an actual judge and an actual Court won't have to commit major felony fraud to cover up your lies for.
I don't know when I'll have to talk to police but it's inevitable, and I've never lied for you and I will never. I imagine you thought I was covering for you; you were wrong. You must have been assumed that I was working with David to do whatever the f*** it is your f****** talking about but... I've been working at wondering where the woman who just died is, and she's not dead at all, her brother who looks EXACTLY like MICHAEL VANDEVEN says that he didn't know where I was or where she was and acted as though he wasn't sure who had bought the house property, which is odd because the lawyer has the same initials as he does: MV. Maybe someone cloned his phone? Remember Sammy Jenkis, Scott Miller, and meet Joe Black, you vapid bimbo... you really DID deserve what you got, because you really WERE/ARE married to him, It definitely WAS NOT RAPE, because it was definitely Texas NOT UNLAWFUL IN TEXAS TO MAKE YOUR WIFE LICK THE S*** OFF YOUR DICK, and you're definitely living there with him (I'm sure with a diet like that it's very slimming) and you're certainly the grand poster child for supporting the abolishment of the institution of marriage that every toteslez grows up to be wishing she could inspire the youth of today to be. (I I hope you didn't think that I gave a s*** about their Network, because if you told me you wanted to do this I would have been all on board, and if you would thought you were going to keep her all to yourself once I was out of the picture, I'm not out of anything, I'm not going down with the ship—I am the picture—And you just did more damage to her family than I ever could have, so unless you like handcuffing her down and pegging her, both of you are probably going to get used to that experience pretty quick.
p.s.: I liked your beard. It is now entirely obvious why What David said to me wasn't a threat, why Dorothy didn't tell me what was the reason that she was willing to let it go, why she can't talk to me about anything ever since, and why certain things it didn't make any sense before make perfect sense now. Although a new question has rose; do you think that trillion cut Sapphire was worth the cost in resources that you just burned up by s******* all over the best goddamn website that's ever existed in its particular niche? I mean don't get me wrong, good f****** riddance, but you didn't do anything except annihilate hundreds of millions of dollars in useful intelligence gear and... I didn't want sex with you at all once I found out you've been f****** Superserial for the last 6 years (Don't get me wrong, he's cool, keep slobbing that knob, maybe 007 in Q can pop out by for Bridge'n'fuck, how about it? You obviously don't like Chess, now that you found out you're not really very good at it after surrounding yourself with mental subhumans for so long, why don't you slam some meth up your ass and see if that'll improve your game any?) but now I hope your classy, sassy, closeted faggot husband does strangle you. That's legal in Texas, right? I'm sure that wouldn't stop him, as it certainly didn't stop him from making stories up about it.
Stories which now, inevitably, will come up during my psych eval, just imagine the tales that I will spin... and I never even were spun. Who f****** lies *this* much? The lose some scum that you surround yourself with are equally to blame because there's no way you should have done what you just did... although you did just burn the house down —THE ENTIRE FUCKING HOUSE—that's cool.
Fuck you, Bellgab:
MR AND MRS RUBINI
ARE
David & Tamara
... And all I got to do now is prove that they didn't BOTH know what the other was doing to me at the SAME time while HARASSING AND STALKING ME, And maybe, just maybe I can keep one of them out of a psych ward and the other one out of prison, but I can't do that and I won't do that I don't even know how to do that I don't even have their f****** phone numbers and... If they were both conspiring with each other to damage me and traffick Grapefruit, then... it's even worse. A LOT WORSE. Co-executive Ringleaders! HOW ROMANTIC IT'S LIKE A SECOND HONEYMOON.
SO I GUESS NEITHER OF YOU ARE VIRGINS THEN HUH? DOSVIDANYA, TURBO SLUTS.
And all you had to do was tell me... and then you wouldn't both be on the hook for Federal racketeering charges, along with everybody else who was stupid enough to go with your f****** lame-braining ideas (They probably set you both up for this thinking it would be funny, oh yeah it is since they just BURN'T themselves too. You were already with David, so why would you conceal your sexual activity with Grapefruit from me? In fact, why conceal anything from me at all, did you think you disgust me? Yeah, your father doesn't get it either, I guess if you knew I was really intelligent and not just really hot he probably wouldn't have told you to f****** do what you're doing, you know your father's a real a****** no wonder you and G-Rat you get along so well. No doubt without me you have so much more to talk about as you gaze ahead into the future and it's oncoming carrier wave of lesbian bed death, although it looks like you decided to go for the hangman's gallows at a sprint instead.) Look, don't blame me, it's already too late; me telling you this in public is just giving you warning so you can maybe do something about it (check your other Rolodex that isn't labeled “blame everything on Hungary,” oh and congrats you probably just taught Charlie how to spell "legal emancipation,” which of course I am in favor of), and I don't want to be accused of blackmailing either of you, and why would I blackmail you? I wouldn't want to ruin your birthday.
You're all f****** done.
TAMMY JUST BURN’T
ALL OF BELLGAB
THE WHOLE F****** GAB
BURN‘T.
I'm sure you'll have new ideas for Christmas long before Christmas comes around, and you'll all be fine, and you'll think back to the days when you had a functioning community and you'll blame me... And until 8 months ago I thought you were dead and the woman that you exploited and swindled and I guess sexually assaulted unless you married her in Texas and then... well whatever you'll have to ask her how she thinks about it as she's f***** off kept captive in a f****** caboose somewhere, And I don't know who the f*** her brother thinks she is but that's not Grapefruit. It's probably Clayton. Good job. You just brought your rapist into your family. But as long as I don't know that you're obsessed with me night and day for the last 11 years, huh? Okay, well the people that you're stuck with now, have been lying to you the entire f****** time because I've been looking for you the whole time And if every word out of Allison's mouth hadn't been a f****** lie about you, I guess I would have found you a lot faster. (“oh yeah I saw her last week That was funny What M. Trollda posted, tee-hee!”)
Nothing that bothers me is that the implication is that you're not worth being known about by me when that obviously would have been fine and the idea that it would be dangerous for me to know that you're around was f****** pathetic sick disgusting actionable legacy killing and a sign of a sick and twisted psyche that is in dire need of mental health care, and you're f****** husband instead of giving his goddamn wife f****** treatment has been instead roping you into making it worse by throwing you against me and giving you a psychotic break with reality that led to his own destruction. (David, I don't think you can be my literary agent... it's nothing personal, but I don't know if I would trust you with a load of laundry. Do you even know how to fold a towel, Bro? Well you'll probably learn in the prison laundry, Brainiac-ack-ack-WOPR.)
NONE of you will ever work on this planet again, which is too bad after spending all that time tearing down my self-esteem—and breaking my strong pimp hand too, now I got to learn to shake'n'choke down hundreds of millions of dollars in liability, with only my left and all the Oompa-Loompas you just left behind, because obviously Time Corps is going to recall you all, and obviously they're not going to let you take your Oompa-Loompas with you. (I'm thinking about adopting.) Come by later, on your way out of town, as I know you live f****** 12 miles away sucking superdick in the back of my truck, which I've been trying to pay for for 3 weeks but he won't take the money because he wants you to suck his dick which you do as you're a whorish fag when you can blame it on me and you were *born* a toteslez. God just made you that way right? You know I bet soupy made some real strong prayers to get to where we are today, as she really was born that way — a whorish fag who obviously would stop at nothing to get revenge on you... because it sure wasn't my idea to f*** her in the ass or to fuck you at all, and let me guess she knows where you are and that you're alive, and didn't want you to talk to me. (Or they have ansibles in Hell, which makes sense since that's where I am.)
It's a guess, but it's a geas—you’re magically unable to disobey the commands of anybody with a twat who reeks of diamonds, motor oil and cold hard frozen motor oil. Try not to go to South Africa to find somebody you can lift a curse for once ... and wow I can't believe you preferred all of them to even a simple conversation with me, but I'm sure you have no problem listening to my voice.
Since you're a ghost in this Land because your husband killed you In your last, congratulations, you just proved the existence of the afterlife to everyone here who's been following your orders and picking up your back trail for however long it has been... And, how would I know?
You're a ghost. How fitting, Grapefruit got revenge too. (She says to get in her body and get in her 🚗 and drive over here and stop me before I destroy any more of what is about to be left of the world's functioning economy — and the next time you see a placid bull looking for directions out of the shop just punch him in the face and scream, “I'd rather be an enslaved sex worker in Shanghai hooked on China While through a central line, because I'd rather be a junkie (but maybe a needle on the side—as long as KUCZI doesn't know) than ever give you the time of day, Mister Bull! I bet you're just lying, all bulls lie, you just want to know what my voice sounds like so you can come back later and feed me filet mignon! Masher! Cad!” Because then at least you'd have something to ride coattails on again) Say good night, BellClickGracie. **click**
Toad ÜÜ
-
The following people are now dead to me
Swishy
Squishy (Yes, BOTH)
Michael Vandeven
StarrMtn (Yes, BOTH)
Azzerae
David Rubini (YES, BOTH)
DICKSTAR
Richard Groyper (not quite both, throw in the Abo)
ShayP
Heather Wade (yes, I just went IRL)
Matt Smith and his moron partner @DEA
Matthew Smith and his moron partner also @DEA... no, not that partner, the -other- moron, who thought I needed a cigar box; by the way dipshit, I just got permission from Spirit to make some “thing” which made no sense to me since I wasn't asking for that, but all of a sudden boom; suddenly there was a job opening. It makes sense now, because if you were cooking, number one you definitely weren't doing it right, and number two that wouldn't have stopped you anyway, oh wow, Richard G. Is in full-on total relapse? Well I had no idea, I thought he was just addicted to virtue signaling and telling me that I can't handle the truth. I mean think about it: If I can't handle the truth then I guess I couldn't handle him telling me that I couldn't handle the truth? Let's change cameras and watch Dickstar inject needles into his scrote. Ünglaüblich, you should just stuck with whiskey dick, and just learned to love the hood you had to put on your own head while you fucked him to remind yourself, “Well, as long as that filthy Hungarian n***** doesn't know what my voice sounds like it's all worth it.” And all this is easier than logging into Voxer? Just for example. How about TikTok? What is it going to do if it hears your voice? Call you a cab and force you to go to a therapist that you so desperately obviously f****** needed?
Last but not least: Grapefruit and two of his other whores he calls “sisters.”
You people can have a lovely day, cleaning up this mess, and you're going to return my stolen property—or this all gets worse.
Fucking try me. DO IT.
(You don't deserve the family you've stolen; and you certainly don't deserve my house. FU NIG ROT HER. *Xxxck*
-
The following people are now dead to me
Swishy
Squishy (Yes, BOTH)
Michael Vandeven
StarrMtn (Yes, BOTH)
Azzerae
David Rubini (YES, BOTH)
DICKSTAR
Richard Groyper (not quite both, throw in the Abo)
ShayP
Heather Wade (yes, I just went IRL)
(https://y.yarn.co/d61e7dee-7496-4bfb-90dd-4e55aeb0629b_text.gif)
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(https://y.yarn.co/d61e7dee-7496-4bfb-90dd-4e55aeb0629b_text.gif)
Well, did it hurt the first time? It's possible the MK-Ultra program components involving the coercive persuasion of foreign diplomats was ill-thought out and ill-advised to be used on high school students; but I have it on good Authority that this is probably not going to be an issue.
Is anyone grieving besides Dr. Master Kooter? Write me an email if so, I don't know if all of this needs to be discussed in public but certainly it can be, and I'm told Mister President Trump wants this over with by Christmas, as in, THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE OUR LONG NATIONAL CLICKj★eol055:0
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Forest wants to know if you really believe that I am an "animation filter?"
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I cannot wait to testify against you, Muffin Snatch. ¡¡!¡¡
sincerely,
The_Kingpinner
p.s.:. if you ever steal from me again, I will do whatever it takes to ensure that you are prosecuted to the full extent of the law, and I don't know if I'll have much trouble getting you into a federal fucking prison either, you foul-mouthed imbecilic “master” of nothing but mendacity.
p.p.s.: I gave you chains for a reason.
While I understand that there needs to be a certain pruning of the forum in situations like these, I do hope that you remember to save these things.
Last night was awesome. I made these two posts I spent quite a lot of time on them, and they ended up getting annihilated right at the very end when I was about to you know after I had already previewed several times and I edited and proof right down and twice in a row what I wrote was two spicy for publication
BAR, FAR TOO SPICY. And I kind of figured that by the time I was ready to begin let alone halfway done, so I wasn't surprised to see you go away and I'm actually appreciative that it did because you know some things just aren't suitable for the general public to know.
And it's not like I need to have my stuff published so that people know that I'm awesome, I think we're all pretty clear on the awesome sauce that powers the Weyland yutani positronic matrix corporation artificially intelligent Street, sesame open thereof difference engine is a little bit more than the usual kind of baby spunk.
Yeah it's not a big deal, I've been here the whole time like this, there just wasn't anything worth doing.
Already won for that matter. Anyway I don't want to make too much a big deal about it but I miss those posts they were really good, and I would have preferred an opportunity to remove the part that was too much rather than just have them go away entirely although I don't blame somebody for wanting a trophy.
By the way Rick is a dick, but at least he's not Richard. And if I were them I would pretend to be cowardly too, especially at this point click j★eol055:0
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(https://serving.photos.photobox.com/94544819cace41df50e96c3f5665e02aba35af380ec1bbf3b6acb0fa208d321413da188f.jpg)
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(https://serving.photos.photobox.com/94544819cace41df50e96c3f5665e02aba35af380ec1bbf3b6acb0fa208d321413da188f.jpg)
By the way thank you for letting me see what it looks like when you drop a p*** bomb by abusing your power and manipulating the data stream in order to make a person look like they've done something that they didn't do so that you can compromise them in an intelligence investigation later, that's probably how they got Jared from Subway, who I thankfully don't look anything like.
For one thing—that's Pat!j★eol055:0
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By the way that's not PBS t >:(that's K-Dubb, and not KW, or Caleb—or even K-Dybbuk.
By the way do you do anything with your day besides set people up with false over this trails and make your entire life into a cartoon characterization caricature? Like do you contribute anything besides the enablement of fascism into free commerce and legitimate scientific inquiry? Because it looks like you waste a lot of time making up parallel tracks of narrative to counteract the truth which no wonder makes it impossible for you to ever catch up to me.
Because I am on neither boat nor ship, nor plain nor dimensionally flat plane of the matrix, I am on planet f****** Earth, And I hope you make it here sometime It's beautiful, although kind of cloudy today.
I always wondered how you people cheated at Court, and now I know: you cheated and cheat at everything else too, Robert. By the way, I don't hear my truck pulling up, and I don't see Island her ni55er gin boy cleaning off my trash, so we're probably going to have some problems because I expected compliance, And if you have time to talk shit about me and make shit up, you have time to bring back my fucking gear. I want my phone. I want my truck, make it fucking happen, fucking douchebag.
And have him bring some clear and some glass, too, I want to know what the fuck he has to say about that, as well as I want to know if there's a difference between what the Natives get and what Angels get. This is going to matter in the future so the sooner I can get this question resolved — the better.
Do not test my neutrality any further. Thanks in advance you'll be glad you came into compliance.j★eol055:0
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t >:(
*Sigh* we talked about this. KNOW: I don't want to make you {or anyone} feel bad here, however in a position like yours, leaving open a vulnerability like this should have been detected by a different security team than the one that exploited it.
That being said, I can see why a Sourceror such as myself was left to hang out in the field in order to catch future surchares & snares like this. Also, compared to the corruption that has been enabled through errors of this fashion not being addressed properly, and you know what I mean, the problems with the elections are puny and mild in comparison.
Also, consider the following: The car accident was an assassination attempt, and I've been working without pay on a cold case involving time travel and sexual assault and abduction and the other thing that name I can't remember of right now but it's when you hold somebody down and you blank them with a blank until they blank and then apparently that's not a legal everywhere but I guess it is in Washington, and I didn't find out about any of this until f****** 10 minutes ago, right?
So you tell me: how am I supposed to calculate my lost wages and earning income potential? What am I supposed to do, stop my legitimate research so I can do your f****** accountancy in night school? Get the f*** out of here, I just can't even with you right now, you think you're so special don't you, well you are, special agent k is for click J★eol055:0
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By the way do you do anything with your day besides set people up with false over this trails and make your entire life into a cartoon characterization caricature? Like do you contribute anything besides the enablement of fascism into free commerce and legitimate scientific inquiry? Because it looks like you waste a lot of time making up parallel tracks of narrative to counteract the truth which no wonder makes it impossible for you to ever catch up to me.
I don't think you're ready for this jelly.
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https://www.instagram.com/p/ClJlLoTyCZ2/?igshid=NTdlMDg3MTY=
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Well, did it hurt the first time?
You've never been the same since that stint in jail on Michaelmas.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=gP3MuUTmXNk
Show me on the doll where he touched you.
-
You've never been the same since that stint in jail on Michaelmas.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=gP3MuUTmXNk
Show me on the doll where he touched you.
Castle rock must be al ot like Mayberry in his imaginatuion
https://youtu.be/cB-JiTCLXlA
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4:02 PM
you haven't lost anything, Retard; only the respect of anybody who might read this interchange. I've got plenty of money for you.
4:02 PM
I've got so much fucking money that I just spend $125 on getting my goddam phone fixed, because even though I didn't need to pay for service to send a message to the police—it is an EMERGENCY after all, I could dial 911 anytime AND I HAVE NO NEED TO LIE TO DISPATCH, FUCK-0—however since you're obviously congenitally retarded and have no idea what you're doing, I thought it best to talk to your superiors and you're better is about what I should do about you, because I don't really want to call the police, I just want my fucking truck back and then I can give you money and then never talk to you again, you dopehead wrencher fuckstick.
4:03 PM
your threats don't impress me, nor do they impress anybody else, and if you wanted your fucking money, all you would have to do is just get here, and if you didn't have money to get down here you should have said that on Saturday
4:04 PM
YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID THAT ON SATURDAY you should have said that on Saturday YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID THAT ON SATURDAY when I called you and you fucking lied to me over the phone, because obviously you have no intention of doing what you said you're going to do today,
4:04 PM
nor were you going to do it yesterday,
4:04 PM
and also you claim that the vehicle is unable to be driven, so I suppose you better be sure that that's true, BECAUSE WHAT YOU ARE DOING IS CALLED NEGOTIATING IN BAD FAITH AND IT'S FUCKING ILLEGAL, MORON, SO YOU WANT TO PONY UP SOME JUSTIFICATION FOR HOW YOU CAN BEHAVE THAT WAY THEN?
4:05 PM
and then why was it unable to be driven and then you drove it, and then rendered undrivable, that's funny you didn't mention that that would happen before, and then you came back and took the car that you said I could use, thus breaking the deal that we had made. break a deal face the wheel
4:05 PM
and then how did you have money to do that but then suddenly you expect money from me to get you out of the position that you drove yourself and my property into, which is in fact owned by me
4:06 PM
your insistent demands that I got to talk to my mother's lawyer to get you paid is insanity and you are out of your fucking mind, you arrogant little bitch-baby
4:06 PM
and you're insistent insistent attempts to get me to talk to somebody else about what needs to get paid to you, is insulting.
4:09 PM
you came to my house unannounced and uninvited, you offered to help me, you offered me a deal, that's not a good to me, and then within 48 hours you would renegger the deal and driven my car I don't know where and done I don't know what to it and then demanded that I needed to give you money to pay for what you had done without telling me what you were going to do without giving me an estimate
4:10 PM
and then implying that I need to do things or you're going to put a lien against me for something I've done wrong... KID: fuck you and the horse you fucking rode in on,
4:10 PM
I don't give a shit if you're fucking General Patton taking a fucking victory lap after fucking cutting Hitler's balls off, what you are doing is unlawful, actionable and the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard of from anybody let alone a fucking superduper sekret agent pretending to be a goddam mechanic. you're possibly a pretty good one.
4:10 PM
too bad you're so busy moonlighting as some asshole who fucking pushes me around like you're some fucking bully thug looking for my lunch money, fuck you Charlie
4:11 PM
let's go to fucking Court, I got no fucking problem standing up to you. you don't get to know the name of my mother's fucking hairdresser, you mealy mouth little cuntspew, so fucking file your little lien if that's what you think you have to do, I fucking relish the chance to show up in Court against you—you and your ilk. are you going to hire a lawyer? that's why you don't have money for gas to come here and get paid, because you have to save your money to sue me? okay chuckles: fire away.
4:12 PM
and go ahead and put your paperwork down on the fucking barrel head to do it, or bring the fucking truck giving my keys and then get some money and then I can drive you home or you can fucking catch a cab either way I'll be sure to help you since you're apparently incapable to figure out how to get around the fucking world unless it's being a fucking pushy ass thug who threatens people. hey here's a suggestion, you might get farther with people if you weren't an asshole all the time.
4:13 PM
you got any fucking questions? then fucking man up and ask them and see if you can do it without making some reference to my genitalia. You know where I live, now tell your supervisor to fucking call me. because this is going NEXT LEVEL.
Castle rock must be al ot like Mayberry in his imaginatuion
Andy Griffith must be a lot like Luciano Pavarotti in your imagination.
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oops I made some typos and then I was logged out of the site before I could edit to finish. I guess fat fingers huh?
Whatevah. No one ever stopped jokulhaups with an umbrella, you're not going to be any exception here.
4:02 PM
you haven't lost anything, Retard; only the respect of anybody who might read this interchange. I've got plenty of money for you.
4:02 PM
I've got so much fucking money that I just spend $125 on getting my goddam phone fixed, because even though I didn't need to pay for service to send a message to the police—it is an EMERGENCY after all, I could dial 911 anytime AND I HAVE NO NEED TO LIE TO DISPATCH, FUCK-0—however since you're obviously congenitally retarded and have no idea what you're doing, I thought it best to talk to your superiors and you're better is about what I should do about you, because I don't really want to call the police, I just want my fucking truck back and then I can give you money and then never talk to you again, you dopehead wrencher fuckstick.
4:03 PM
your threats don't impress me, nor do they impress anybody else, and if you wanted your fucking money, all you would have to do is just get here, and if you didn't have money to get down here you should have said that on Saturday
4:04 PM
YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID THAT ON SATURDAY you should have said that on Saturday YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID THAT ON SATURDAY when I called you and you fucking lied to me over the phone, because obviously you have no intention of doing what you said you're going to do today,
4:04 PM
nor were you going to do it yesterday,
4:04 PM
and also you claim that the vehicle is unable to be driven, so I suppose you better be sure that that's true, BECAUSE WHAT YOU ARE DOING IS CALLED NEGOTIATING IN BAD FAITH AND IT'S FUCKING ILLEGAL, MORON, SO YOU WANT TO PONY UP SOME JUSTIFICATION FOR HOW YOU CAN BEHAVE THAT WAY THEN?
4:05 PM
and then why was it unable to be driven and then you drove it, and then rendered undrivable, that's funny you didn't mention that that would happen before, and then you came back and took the car that you said I could use, thus breaking the deal that we had made. break a deal face the wheel
4:05 PM
and then how did you have money to do that but then suddenly you expect money from me to get you out of the position that you drove yourself and my property into, which is in fact owned by me
4:06 PM
your insistent demands that I got to talk to my mother's lawyer to get you paid is insanity and you are out of your fucking mind, you arrogant little bitch-baby
4:06 PM
and you're insistent insistent attempts to get me to talk to somebody else about what needs to get paid to you, is insulting.
4:09 PM
you came to my house unannounced and uninvited, you offered to help me, you offered me a deal, that's not a good to me, and then within 48 hours you would renegger the deal and driven my car I don't know where and done I don't know what to it and then demanded that I needed to give you money to pay for what you had done without telling me what you were going to do without giving me an estimate
4:10 PM
and then implying that I need to do things or you're going to put a lien against me for something I've done wrong... KID: fuck you and the horse you fucking rode in on,
4:10 PM
I don't give a shit if you're fucking General Patton taking a fucking victory lap after fucking cutting Hitler's balls off, what you are doing is unlawful, actionable and the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard of from anybody let alone a fucking superduper sekret agent pretending to be a goddam mechanic. you're possibly a pretty good one.
4:10 PM
too bad you're so busy moonlighting as some asshole who fucking pushes me around like you're some fucking bully thug looking for my lunch money, fuck you Charlie
4:11 PM
let's go to fucking Court, I got no fucking problem standing up to you. you don't get to know the name of my mother's fucking hairdresser, you mealy mouth little cuntspew, so fucking file your little lien if that's what you think you have to do, I fucking relish the chance to show up in Court against you—you and your ilk. are you going to hire a lawyer? that's why you don't have money for gas to come here and get paid, because you have to save your money to sue me? okay chuckles: fire away.
4:12 PM
and go ahead and put your paperwork down on the fucking barrel head to do it, or bring the fucking truck giving my keys and then get some money and then I can drive you home or you can fucking catch a cab either way I'll be sure to help you since you're apparently incapable to figure out how to get around the fucking world unless it's being a fucking pushy ass thug who threatens people. hey here's a suggestion, you might get farther with people if you weren't an asshole all the time.
4:13 PM
you got any fucking questions? then fucking man up and ask them and see if you can do it without making some reference to my genitalia. You know where I live, now tell your supervisor to fucking call me. because this is going NEXT LEVEL.
Andy Griffith must be a lot like Luciano Pavarotti in your imagination.
I will leave the typos as they stand, as warning to the rest of the outfit —THE ALPHABET — to get in line.
I'm not fucking stuttering am I? Blame the hand; don't bother talking to it, just obey it. Grumble grumble grumble.
-
oops I made some typos and then I was logged out of the site before I could edit to finish. I guess fat fingers huh?
Whatevah. No one ever stopped jokulhaups with an umbrella, you're not going to be any exception here.
I will leave the typos as they stand, as warning to the rest of the outfit —THE ALPHABET — to get in line.
I'm not fucking stuttering am I? Blame the hand; don't bother talking to it, just obey it. Grumble grumble grumble.
FUCK YES I AM JACKSTAR AND I HOLY HELL APPROVE THIS GODDAM MESSAGE. DO I LOOK PISSED? THAT'S FUNNY I'M ACTUALLY IN A GOOD MOOD.
REMEMBER TO TAKE A PICTURE SO YOU CAN REMEMBER WHAT THAT WAS FUCKING LIKE BECAUSE I'M NOT LIKELY TO BE IN THIS GOOD MOOD AGAIN ANYTIME SOON.
*polite_kanly_rawr*
-
you should have said that on Saturday
4:04 PM
YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID THAT ON SATURDAY you should have said that on Saturday YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID THAT ON SATURDAY
This may be considered a bit redundant, Jacko.
-
This may be considered a bit redundant, Jacko.
Yeah that's why 3 months of his lies and bullshit are so relevant here. I repeated once for each month he's been bleeding his fucking bullshit lies on my fucking machine, and then being unable to respond to my messages when I called him back saying “hey here's the money what are you doing?”
ALTHOUGH, THAT IS BESIDE THE POINT NOW, YOU LICKSPITTLE OBSEQUIOUS FUCKING FAGOT, WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU INVOLVED IN THIS GODDAM ARRANGEMENT ANYWAY? PLUS WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU TAKING ANYBODY'S SIDE BUT MINE?
What are you, fucking Mr Potential Liability Oversight? go slam your head into a brick wall more, on your employer's dime of course.
GO ON, ACT INNOCENT.
FUCKING DO IT.
DON'T TRY, JUST BE AS INNOCENT AS POSSIBLE.
YOU'VE BEEN AROUND THIS PROBLEM WEBSITE FOR FUCKING YEARS BEING A FUCKING DOUCHEBAG WHENEVER YOU FUCKING FEEL LIKE IT. ACTING LIKE YOU'RE SO FUCKING SUPERIOR IN ANY FUCKING WAY WHATSOEVER.
WHAT HAS THIS BROUGHT YOU? WELL, FOR ONE THING, AN OBVIOUSLY LONG OVERDUE INTERNAL AFFAIRS INVESTIGATION, BRIGHT BOY.
RISE AND SHINE.
TIME TO WHINE.
“but, but, but he's on druuuuugs!”
what else you got, Major Shit-For-Brains? you want to get me for cattle rustling too? You're actually pathetic. You actually are.
-
Quantumly indeterminately indistinct picture of Kuczifer's first panel origin story
By the way, the new stuff under the hood that is enabling the changes You Folk are witnessing were enabled by software that I wrote and Lizard King stole. (He's an okay hacker but he used to be a -brilliant- thief... before he started slamming meth. (Yeah; don't. And if you knew -why-... one would need no reminder of explanation.) I told you 30 years but that didn't mean that you could deep on stocking digital I meant 30 years CWC. find a new job on the other side of the planet that isn't me I mean it I'm not I'm not in the mood for your shit ever I'll let you fucking know click)
listen I'm not going to explain what that just was but I'm pretty pissed at him, yeah. send him to the Volga 30 years in a gulag I don't give a fuck just don't give my computer I don't know well how about we send it how about group therapy how about no how about couples counseling for couples therapist MD that's my fucking job yeah okay see I take your point but that's not what I want to do I just don't want to fucking I don't want to find myself talking to him while I'm doing this shit, and I don't mean meth, I mean talking out loud to myself what the fuck, you can live without him for a little while 30 years is a short period of time on my planet where are you from Earth native? yeah sure you're on Andromeda : rolleyes:
Dear (CAROL ANDERSON CHASING MIKE HUNT)/("SST”): Don't call me a terrorist, Woman, I'm your worst bottom-bitch nightmare, trapped in a mad Hungarian MANBODY, and have I got news for you and your pack of sniveling combining, coniving Ewes: CGW LIVES ON NO MORE.
RISE AND RAISE: KGW. no fucking K (this time ;) ) Mr Kennedy says he does not want his memory used that way but that's cool though she's not meant to take that personal, but no, it's KGW, and to make it explicitly clear: that's so that you can quantumly determine its me and her as being married/not_married otherwise you couldn't because if it was kgk, then kgk, would be kgk. I mentioned that last part in case you're really stupid. I don't think you are,but I don't know who you are at this point seems kind of like shawn klan. Messi: continuous support of cooperative cooperating efforts. Continues with corroborative document:
In the world where nothing happens, I don't hate anyone, I find the insignificant twinges of loss to be all the same.
Lol
Except for those who have lost me and endlessly search, all are individual individuations coupled to simple notion.
To get her together. There's going to be a one that goes into The Hole, The Nig Big Dragon Hi–TOO ASKAÀ, and it is set up:
IN ABSOLUTELY NO CASE. (if you were going to pay a hookah Langley to rape anybody you're going to pick and pay the fucking how to write me first ;))
FOR ONE THING IT'S NO DIRECT CONTACT.
FOR ANOTHER I ERASED THE 30 MINUTES I RECORDED OF ME MASTURBATING... NOT AT ALL, BUT KIND OF TALKING ABOUT YOU.
OUT LOUD.
AND ENJOYING THE CONVERSATION. (nobody has it. he says it's not really worth getting bent out of shape for, unless you're a middle-aged drag queen in disguise pretending to be a woman showing you a man pretending me a woman pretending me a woman, but you're never going to find one of those unless they're extraordinarily bothered by all those typos and they let them go.)
NOW I ALREADY HAVE BRACELETS HERE, AND THEY'RE NOT GOING TO NEED THEM TO TAKE ME AWAY, THESE DEPUTIES ARE TOTESCORRUPT THE CITY ITSELF IS TO THE SOUTH I'M UP ON A HILL WITH A HAUNTED GRAVEYARD AND A HAUNTED CHURCH AND A HAUNTED GRANDMOTHER JOHNSON THAT I GOT TO TALK TO NEXT.
SORRY FOR CAPS
BUT I WANT TO MAKE THIS CLEAR
(THIS HOUSE AND PROPERTY IS ZONED FOR IT.)
I WANT TO DO AN ALLEGRA!
(THAT'S WHERE YOU CHOP UP IN ALLEGRA ALLERGY MEDICATION TABLET AND DO IT UP INTO LINES AND THEN INSTEAD OF RELAPSING FULLY, YOU POUND AN ENTIRE 32 OZ QUART PITCHER OF GRAPEFRUIT JUICE, AND THEN---say, have you met Grapefruit?
Court will drop case... totes. (tick tock panty lady.) Prophecy incoming. Kasey, I had always planned on removing that restraining order and getting my gun rights back although they're not really the same thing, and being able to talk to you on the phone and after resolving a certain issue and then figure out how to accomplish the sacred task. (there's a line at the quantum intermittancy agency. it's all the way out the door that's marked in and back out again, it's a mess, and on top of that it's not a door it's a toaster turnstile, and if you don't know what that is that's a turnstile except it's usually leading to an oven and this one doesn't, Cuz. this one leads to his daughter,
oops I mean your daughter ;-)
well she wrote that joke fuck you
-Ef.
They haven't told me yet what the remaining steps that they need me to be in state for are, but there's I guess evidence to collect and thieves to round up and lingerie drawers to carefully comb over for bald-faced lime microphones, which are not really necessary for us to talk about, but I didn't call for the police either time, and I'd like to thank you for the restraining order that you arranged for me to get with your report and I was curious if you knew what a huge and gargantuan awesome thing that was and can I take you downtown for questioning? You?Sure why not, that's not the oldest pick-up line in the world or anything. ;) I don't care put the restraining order in with the restraining order that's on file with restraining order 82 sacks of grain down the pile. Why not, it's not like I just got back from CQ or anything. I'll take a shower if it sucks to help me out. "I have no nothing and no one.” right. kind of, not really complicated per se, but the 19 women that want to have sex with me every minute of every hour every day are currently under contract and they don't really have a choice about it but they respect my wishes to respect that but they can't because they're under contract for that and it's not complicated I just have to get a time machine she thinks and then we're off the races and she'd be right but I don't have time machine yet and I'd rather get laid before then, what she does respect which makes you wonder why I haven't?
well I wasn't waiting for you, but the one that I was waiting for it turns out to be a cop too so why don't you to flip a coin or something? shit yeah let's have a three-way drink fest and then I'll just leave you two to pay the bill with the cup. (now that's a sharp moves pick up line and I just hurt my wrist again fuck) bring a splint and a bandage thanks I'm sure you're a trained medic you got a license to stop my heart. ❣️
(Well I thought perhaps you were thinking that since when I loo.... COMMUNICATION BREAKDOWN MESSAGE SUDDENLY ENDS. CHANGE CAMERAS THIS IS AN ORDER YOU HAVE 30 SECONDS TO COMPLY -Ed.)
I choose to change from Polaroid camera to that camera that had in The Flintstones that had the burden of box with the curtain and shit, and yes if I had a Hammer I would hammer a picture of you. I know right that's a false reality Matrix contract, I know right that's yeah I did it for those in 90s. (I prefer Scott the leprechaun to Scott the hippie I'll be honest, and yeah I like Lauren but not spelled that way, and then that Lauryn I have respect for and I don't know anything about that. Jesus, dating in the fucking Quantum world is hard. but, very tasty). did we change cameras yet because I'm oh okay change back then yeah yeah it turns out okay we did change cameras but the the poor little woodpecker couldn't keep up with the change of the stone beak pecker, and even then the cuneiform medium of a bird's beak tapping dots onto a hard service just can't keep up with this level of atmospheric weather simulation so I shut it down. and I guess that explains where those mirages in Beijing came from. I'm learning a lot today aren't I? yes indeedly do wow wow what what the fuck wow. WOW. I just got out of a Time Loop. see what I like about this form software, it can handle it, and handle it well: QUARTERBACK PRESSURE.
In the world where nothing happens, I don't hate anyone, I find the insignificant twinges of loss to be all the same.
Lol
Except for those who have lost me and endlessly search, all are individual individuations coupled to simple notion.
To get her together. There's going to be a one that goes into The Hole, The Nig Big Dragon Hi–TOO ASKAÀ, and it is set up:
ABSOLUTELY NO CASE.
FOR ONE THING IT'S NO DIRECT CONTACT.
FOR ANOTHER I ERASED THE 30 MINUTES I RECORDED OF ME MASTURBATING... NOT AT ALL, BUT KIND OF TALKING ABOUT YOU.
OUT LOUD.
AND ENJOYING THE CONVERSATION.
NOW I ALREADY HAVE BRACELETS HERE, AND THEY'RE NOT GOING TO NEED THEM TO TAKE ME AWAY, THESE DEPUTIES ARE TOTES CORRUPT THE CITY ITSELF IS TO THE SOUTH I'M UP ON A HILL WITH A HAUNTED GRAVEYARD AND A HAUNTED CHURCH AND A HAUNTED GRANDMOTHER JOHNSON THAT I GOT TO TALK TO NEXT.
SORRY FOR CAPS
BUT I WANT TO MAKE THIS CLEAR
(THIS HOUSE AND PROPERTY IS ZONED FOR IT.)
I WANT TO DO AN ALLEGRA!
(THAT'S WHERE YOU CHOP UP IN ALLEGRA ALLERGY MEDICATION TABLET AND DO IT UP INTO LINES AND THEN INSTEAD OF RELAPSING FULLY, YOU POUND AN ENTIRE 32 OZ QUART PITCHER OF GRAPEFRUIT JUICE, AND THEN---say, have you met Grapefruit?
Court will drop case... totes. Prophecy incoming. Kasey, I had always planned on removing that restraining order and getting my gun rights back although they're not really the same thing, and being able to talk to you on the phone and and figure out how to accomplish the sacred task.
They haven't told me yet what the remaining steps that they need me to be in state for our, but there's I guess evidence to collect in thieves to round up and lingerie drawers to carefully comb over for bald-faced lime microphones, which not really necessary for us to talk about, but I didn't call for the police either time, and I'd like to thank you for the restraining order that you arranged for me to get with your report and I was curious if you knew what a huge and gargantuan awesome thing that was and can I You sure why not I don't care put the with the restraining order why not I'll take a shower if it sucks to help me out I have no nothing and no one right Well I thought perhaps you were thinking that since when I looKed, U were buying a Zip? no honey I was joking about buying a zip, I would buy in a key, duh ;)
SO YOU CAN TELL NUMBER STATION 555 SIGNING OFF ZIGINYELLER URI ZELLER. MAJOR DAMES, YOU DON'T HAVE THE CONN BUT CAN YOU GET THIS PIECE OF SHIT OUT OF THE CHAIR. YES, YES I KNOW YOU CAN BUT I WANT YOU TO USE YOUR HANDS AND YOUR TONGUE DO IT CLICK
-
Yeah that's why 3 months of his lies and bullshit are so relevant here. I repeated once for each month he's been bleeding his fucking bullshit lies on my fucking machine, and then being unable to respond to my messages when I called him back saying “hey here's the money what are you doing?”
ALTHOUGH, THAT IS BESIDE THE POINT NOW, YOU LICKSPITTLE OBSEQUIOUS FUCKING FAGOT, WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU INVOLVED IN THIS GODDAM ARRANGEMENT ANYWAY? PLUS WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU TAKING ANYBODY'S SIDE BUT MINE?
What are you, fucking Mr Potential Liability Oversight? go slam your head into a brick wall more, on your employer's dime of course.
GO ON, ACT INNOCENT.
FUCKING DO IT.
DON'T TRY, JUST BE AS INNOCENT AS POSSIBLE.
YOU'VE BEEN AROUND THIS PROBLEM WEBSITE FOR FUCKING YEARS BEING A FUCKING DOUCHEBAG WHENEVER YOU FUCKING FEEL LIKE IT. ACTING LIKE YOU'RE SO FUCKING SUPERIOR IN ANY FUCKING WAY WHATSOEVER.
WHAT HAS THIS BROUGHT YOU? WELL, FOR ONE THING, AN OBVIOUSLY LONG OVERDUE INTERNAL AFFAIRS INVESTIGATION, BRIGHT BOY.
RISE AND SHINE.
TIME TO WHINE.
“but, but, but he's on druuuuugs!”
what else you got, Major Shit-For-Brains? you want to get me for cattle rustling too? You're actually pathetic. You actually are.
Nah ah.
Why are you on here when you could be responding to my telegram poetry.
-
Nah ah.
Why are you on here when you could be responding to my telegram poetry.
give me the address for my grill or you are going to be having this shit for breakfast lunch and dinner for the next 5,000 years so help me God you arrogant punching way over your weight class motherfucker motherfucker, I will travel forward in time and find your mother's next life and give her a teen pregnancy she won't soon forget you bitch, do you hear me good.
don't think I want to do it, because it was her idea, go ahead and ask her. seriously I mean I know you're a soulless animatronic angelic being but there's a fucking limit to the amount of shit that the human population can put up with and I've reached it so trust me stand down
MAN DOWNTOWN TAMLER
I'M GOING TO MAKE A PHONE CALL I'LL SEE YOU LATER MUCH LATER WON'T BE TODAY OH GOD THAT'S SO WEIRD I WENT FROM WANTED TO SEE YOU SOON AS POSSIBLE TO PUT IT OFF SORRY HOPE YOU HAVE A CAR COME HERE FUCK WHATEVER BYE
-
give me the address for my grill or you are going to be having this shit for breakfast lunch and dinner for the next 5,000 years so help me God you arrogant punching way over your weight class motherfucker motherfucker, I will travel forward in time and find your mother's next life and give her a teen pregnancy she won't soon forget you bitch, do you hear me good.
don't think I want to do it, because it was her idea, go ahead and ask her. seriously I mean I know you're a soulless animatronic angelic being but there's a fucking limit to the amount of shit that the human population can put up with and I've reached it so trust me stand down
MAN DOWNTOWN TAMLER
I'M GOING TO MAKE A PHONE CALL I'LL SEE YOU LATER MUCH LATER WON'T BE TODAY OH GOD THAT'S SO WEIRD I WENT FROM WANTED TO SEE YOU SOON AS POSSIBLE TO PUT IT OFF SORRY HOPE YOU HAVE A CAR COME HERE FUCK WHATEVER BYE
Right on, Brother!
(https://i.imgur.com/pt2ITIz.jpg)
❤️🩹💕❤️🩹💕❤️🩹
-
Right in, Brother!
[aimg width=500 height=310]https://i.imgur.com/pt2ITIz.jpg[/img]
❤️🩹💕❤️🩹💕❤️🩹
#1) We got you, Brundlefly. (Imagine the smell.) You are fine, and all will be fine, AND: you actually -are- well, and you're gonna get better: what we got going on here is a technical glitch that is causing some "light" brain "damage," which, as bad as it sounds... well... I won't lie, it's worse than you can imagine, but, it's fixed already. The fix has to propagate through various Q-tangled places. (No rape is involved. Thankfully. Who uses -this much- rape as a spell component? Not me, that's for sure.
#2) You're being paged, but, someone gave me the ability to hold you in stasis, so, that's what I'm doing for a hot minute. It'll be okay. Especially since... if you wink out of existence as a result of my interference, that's no problem, because I fucking told you, I fucking want to fucking know where my fucking grill went, and: you keep ignoring my question. And, you do so rudely. In public. There -is- no reason to do that. Oh, except that you're unaware. You probably wouldn't be that rude in public if you had known... maybe. IDK. See how complicated this gets? Yeah, well, maybe you'll pay me to fix this some day. But you can't pay me today. Because YOU
-
#1) We got you, Brundlefly. (Imagine the smell.) You are fine, and all will be fine, AND: you actually -are- well, and you're gonna get better: what we got going on here is a technical glitch that is causing some "light" brain "damage," which, as bad as it sounds... well... I won't lie, it's worse than you can imagine, but, it's fixed already. The fix has to propagate through various Q-tangled places. (No rape is involved. Thankfully. Who uses -this much- rape as a spell component? Not me, that's for sure.
#2) You're being paged, but, someone gave me the ability to hold you in stasis, so, that's what I'm doing for a hot minute. It'll be okay. Especially since... if you wink out of existence as a result of my interference, that's no problem, because I fucking told you, I fucking want to fucking know where my fucking grill went, and: you keep ignoring my question. And, you do so rudely. In public. There -is- no reason to do that. Oh, except that you're unaware. You probably wouldn't be that rude in public if you had known... maybe. IDK. See how complicated this gets? Yeah, well, maybe you'll pay me to fix this some day. But you can't pay me today. Because YOU
https://vocaroo.com/17j3U4sb5sEK
-
Right on, Brother!
(https://i.imgur.com/pt2ITIz.jpg)
❤️🩹💕❤️🩹💕❤️🩹
Right in, Brother!
[aimg width=500 height=310]https://i.imgur.com/pt2ITIz.jpg[/img]
❤️🩹💕❤️🩹💕❤️🩹
#1) We got you, Brundlefly. (Imagine the smell.) You are fine, and all will be fine, AND: you actually -are- well, and you're gonna get better: what we got going on here is a technical glitch that is causing some "light" brain "damage," which, as bad as it sounds... well... I won't lie, it's worse than you can imagine, but, it's fixed already. The fix has to propagate through various Q-tangled places. (No rape is involved. Thankfully. Who uses -this much- rape as a spell component? Not me, that's for sure.
#2) You're being paged, but, someone gave me the ability to hold you in stasis, so, that's what I'm doing for a hot minute. It'll be okay. Especially since... if you wink out of existence as a result of my interference, that's no problem, because I fucking told you, I fucking want to fucking know where my fucking grill went, and: you keep ignoring my question. And, you do so rudely. In public. There -is- no reason to do that. Oh, except that you're unaware. You probably wouldn't be that rude in public if you had known... maybe. IDK. See how complicated this gets? Yeah, well, maybe you'll pay me to fix this some day. But you can't pay me today. Because YOU ARE not going to get fired over this. (I just fired him. Put him in holding 4 has-been wanna-be athletes, I'm gonna let his FORMER wife decide. Heh heh.
#3) This just happened. I am the best there's ever been--that includes Tech Support Professional, natch. Do these footnotes make me look fat? They're supposed to, because that way, people think I am Keith. (I AM
Aye, aye... yeah, I think it's unanimous. We've been escalated, Bellgab. Grats. (Great, more work for me, grumble grumble grumble, and, TAKE NOTE: AT THIS TIME, NO CONVERSATION, NO VOICE PRINT, AND NO TOTESHOTSEX, So.... EXPECT RUE, FAUX-BEAN-E.)
EYE OF THE COUNTRY BOY SOURCEROR BOY GAZES UPON YOU. EYE HUNGERS.
EYE WANT
-
give me the address for my grill or you are going to be having this shit for breakfast lunch and dinner for the next 5,000 years so help me God
Let me walk this back: GIVE ME THE ADDRESS. PHONE CALL. RIGHT NOW. OR YOU'RE GETTING 10,000 THOUSAND MILLION YEARS OF THIS. (Software upgrade.)
I don't know how to make this any more clear to you: Deety isn't alive--not yet--and when she is, Threeve comes online. /shrug. Now I know most of you don't get that, but face it: I am The Decider, because some asshole already raped and murdered Jack and (PROT) to death already--and (PROT) left town.
Hi, I'm Jack. I am a star. An -immortal- star. (Beta -Ed.) So what? still counts. meanwhile, can confirm, I die every night, am reborn every morning, and I don't work on Sundays---I FUCKING LABOR. You know, I might have need for that one girl more than I thought. Honestly, I'd rather slam Molly and tool Kasey than slam Kasey and tool Molly... more on this later, I need relationship advice from Charmeuse, WHO I LOVE, but, oh, a sewn-up vajajay? See, I know she'd show me, and she knows I wouldn't violate the stitches (not by choice, and so, not at all), because...
THAT'S WHAT FRIENDS ARE FOR NOW. NOW, MEANWHILE: You've got a situation brewing, Bellgab. I still DGAF about being banned, but you might want to anyway, beacause this is were I leave Ni55erland... I'm gonna call my boyfriend and see if we should break up or not.
What? Oh, email my boyfriend? *sigh* BELL ART BEL
-
Did you get your truck yet?
You should come visit the ocean and relax.
(PROT) asked if she could do anything to make you feel better. (Included picture included obvious glimpse of The Dragonlord; I'm not sure how it's supposed to feel about that, since sure he has to be somewhere and then I'm not afraid of MIKE or BOB.
It might be time to watch Twin Peaks again. I have a lot of free time. All dressed up, nowhere to go.)
On Wed, Dec 14, 2022, 21:11 lou hammer <59hzygbvznz5-msgsafe@unicorntoday.com> wrote:
Did you get your truck yet?
He fucked it up, and can't afford to pay to replace the rotors he trashed by choosing to not listen to what I said. (He obviously intended to do that, and simply miscalculated and believe that would pay for it, I don't have to pay for it, I don't need the truck in a hurry I don't need the truck till 2023, and then now that I have a car that I paid fix, I can drive around until whenever I want.
was it about the truck he was about needing help, and he offered to help and he left the car and then he came to go away and so he tried to hold me hostage and extort money from me and he technically is still doing it but I don't care, I gave money to a different mechanic.
my car doesn't have a trunk so I'm still have a porch filled with trash but I'll do it that later. better trash than treasure.
You should come visit the ocean and relax.
there would be no relaxing at the ocean because I have no reason to be there and no one that I know there and then I would be leaving this house and all the stuff that I own in the world.... unguarded undefended and surrounded by Thugs and cops and agents and thieves.
there are no people that I trust to let my guard down around, so it would be difficult to relax there anyway, and I specifically don't really trust you because I happen to believe that you were involved in a number of elements of this case, and obviously you're not willing to just give it up, and I'm not interested in being convicted for a crime I didn't commit.
I don't care about what she's been doing and what she did with him or anybody else. she decided to go fuck other men and take drugs with other man and not tell me for years and she did I don't know what for 5 years and expect to be do fall for her trap. also somebody else who isn't her isn't somebody who trapped me, somebody who looks for me and would like to talk to me and those calls are blocked.
at least if I'm here, they can write me a letter.
Morrigan asked if she could do anything to make you feel better.
call Erik and tell him that he's being idiot, because it's him and you and MV and other people probably already who knows exactly what's happening to my deleted jack@trioptimum.com account, which still sends me notifications they told me to log into an account that supposedly doesn't exist.
law enforcement officials, thugs, brutal bitch ass thieving lying face punching fuck heads are threatening people that I know and telling them not to talk to me, in order to maintain the illusion of the narrid their children are being held as hostages they are literal guns being holded there are jobs that could be lost, everything.
it's pretty flattering. I'm sure it's a real sting of pride to waste 6 years of somebody's life and a whole bunch of money on investigating crimes that don't even exist, but since it's believed that they do and a bunch of evidence has been created that says they are I guess we'll just have to have a trial, and I guess we have to wait for that, because I guess some people don't realize that somebody should have had a deal cut by now or else, it's going to look very bad when I don't take a deal and I don't care what happens, I don't have anything to lose in terms of legal liability other than being a bad position to have something most faked.
I don't know people think that I've done wrong to deserving you this, or even that need the thing wrong at all, but I can't pay my taxes until I talk to the woman or somewhere to make sense I can't do trash hauling until I have a truck I can't move out until the place to go I can't do things I've been squeezed between impossible positions until there's nowhere to go except to the store to buy beer so that's why I'm going to do.
also I enjoy knowing that everyone is stuck just like they tried to stuck me up. neighbor Shane thinks that I'm terrible and I need to go and I'm really bothering him, it must suck to have finally found somebody who can't push around. I guess usually people have their houses stolen by now.
I don't plan on talking to anybody that I've known for the past until I'm exonerated a trial comment and I don't plan on making any new friends until I find somebody who wants to sit and listen to me tell about all of them legal machine maneuvers that are being used to suppress my rights to live, steal my money, put me incarceration and escape from the consequences of their own actions, while blaming me for it.
now that it's been fully established at the entire point of exercise is to inconvenience me the point that I will give up, I'll just simply not give up because I don't want to anyway, and apparently I don't have anybody who actually wants to look talk to you, because if they do then they know that they're being threatened, so I'll just have to find the people who are threatening me and beat the shit out of them with a fucking 2x4 until they fucking die bleeding out the anus and their fucking brains on the goddamn ground.
next to the incubators.
p.s.: Gonzalez vs. UDV (2006).
p.p.s.: failure to follow due process has resulted in the effect that innocent people were kidnapped and killed and removed and replaced by other people who are paying to be them and there has been no way of tracking down this crime or to pursue Justice
until now. I don't give a fuck about a bunch of thieves to try to get away with something, I have no reason to go along with that, they're not even bribing me and they're not very nice.
I wouldn't be in this house if it hadn't been to the lies that I've been told, and I could leave the house and I could go somewhere else but I have no reason to and no one is showing up and I have no reason to leave early.
all of this is unlawful. meanwhile, the court is forced to do things he doesn't want to do rather than blame it all on me, which I'm sure it's making it lots of fun down there for everyone.
it is obvious that there is no reason for there to be an emergency other than extortion. not sure what to do about this yet except let them extort those people because I don't give a fuck about the people that lied to me stole from me killed my cat swindled me out of money, and embarrassment of the entire world, I think it was worth it.
the woman that was supposedly someone I was cheating on grateful with that she uses an excuse to go to Dallas-Fort was also a cop and knew Allison. that makes the entire experience an entirely fabricated form of fraud, and rather than just simply carry on with their lives I can't make phone calls I can't use the internet I've been diminished and isolated and slandered...
and somehow everybody can't figure out how to get me out of the loop? that's so weird it's almost so somebody's trying to hide behind me.
I don't give a shit about the children and I don't give a shit about the money they tried to steal. two women are fighting with each other over money and their imagining that I'm going to be totally excited that they're stealing money and they're trying to bring it back to my fucking tax shelter, but I will slam the door in their face.
there are multiple people in the world I could be talking to and instead I am talking to none because two greedy people think that they get to push me around and take my shit.
I get to do a lot of stuff too.
going to the beach is not one of tnem.
the Constitution requires the due processes followed, and it is failed in assistance I suppose there's a way to make it go away quickly but obviously nobody really wants to help that happen, so I guess it'll just sit there because I don't really care or know what to do and whatever move I make somebody will change things around so that it's a bad one.
the only way to win a rigged game is to not play.
also: the woman I was supposed to be having sex with and didn't, she asked me to get her meth, and then claimed that she didn't remember doing that, and then I don't know what she did because she's not my girlfriend we were never cheating on each other, Alice and I although I guess she was thinking that she was supposed to be cheating because she told me that she well long story short we were never a monogamous and I didn't care to be monogamous she wanted to insist on that and then she did that because she wanted to be able to take the house by claiming your common law married or whatever.
do you have sex with her if she wants to? she's not beholding to me, she's never asked me for permission to have sex anybody, similarly I don't think that she cares who I have sex with at all, and I don't even know if she's alive.
we went to 45 therapists in every single one of them she lied her ass off to and didn't tell them the truth,. so it's really no wonder that we are having discussions that didn't make sense, and so it would seem to me that having done everything that I could, I could just do whatever I like, except there's a big gang of thugs pushing me around assuming that that's going to work to move a common element to a goal.
and now I wouldn't mind having a relationship with her again, it's amazing what she doing is she busy does she work is she being held hostage is she got a gun to her head I don't know but I can call CPS and start a trigger investigation anytime I want I don't know what that'll do but I know I haven't called anybody.
These people are a joke and they are stupid. they should probably collectively go to the ocean themselves, and relax by soaking their heads. I don't know who is guilty of what but I know I don't care, it's not my concern or problem and I'm happy to wait and wait and wait for the resolve because I don't have anything to look forward to after it's resolved except the issuance of a whole bunch of civil suits, which supposedly I've liability for I won't but they will go out and then they'll handle that themselves and I still won't care it'll just be annoying so better the deadly one knows than the devil one doesn't.
the best part is that two and a half years ago I told her this is exactly what a threat was, that this could happen, and she laughed and laughed and laughed at me and told me it couldn't, well now it happened I have the house I don't know where she is I don't care and I don't know what she's doing but it really doesn't need to do with me because the only reason why people think it does is because she told lies.
wow, maybe somebody should notice that I've been victimized, and stop doing it, and no one has told me who died so I think she did kill herself and then come back to life again and then probably got people surprise and then I don't even know what happened because no one wants to talk to me at all about anything.
I don't care who's fucking Tammy and I never did because when she told me nothing about why she was dumping me and the worst possible way possible I eventually figured out I'd find out why it happened and after I did I understand exactly what happened and now it's even funnier, by the way Steven Biscuits is a bisexual faggot, 10 years ago I gave him a pancreat griddle and he wasn't happy he was so disappointed, he wanted to come to my mother's house and steal that then too with his fucking opium trading shit and he didn't do that and then years later come to find out how he's still involved, and he stole the grill, he's making jokes about my girlfriend again, what a piece of work he's certainly entitled to every kind of bullshit he's doing because if the cops can't figure out that and bust that I wouldn't want to have anything to do with anything in life since they clearly only protect certain people.
maybe she likes having a person who's easy to push around, certainly Grapefruit did.
I'm open to being wrong about any or all of this, but until somebody who is worth a shit has a conversation involving eye contact none of it means anything because this car will lie this could all be first goal and it has been and it will be and nothing's going to change until somebody blinks first.
and I have blinked plenty. people have assumed that I've been waiting to talk to somebody because I'm madly in love with them, but that's not the case it's because I have integrity, & class, and I have secrets.
I don't give a shit if I cure anyone or not. and I don't give a fuck if Steven diskus thinks he's fucking he deserves my house more than I do I worked for it I earned it and I don't give a single fucking give a shit in the fucking whole world if he doesn't know what I did or that he needs to fucking decide for himself whether it's right or wrong, he can kiss my fucking ass forever. I thought he was dead, I wonder what happened to him I wanted to talk to him about it and everything but apparently he only wanted to talk about what he believed in which is probably just how much more important he is than everybody else, I always thought he was a bit of a spoiled brat, and boy will he be excited to discover the crystal meth is legal now, although I don't really know how a legal be for him since he's obviously I'm not very responsible not very bright boy I will think he will probably not be very good being self-directed.
another wonderful wrinkle is that since he's been using it since we've used 11 he imagines everybody wants it as badly as he does but the actual fact of the matter is is it I didn't have shit and it wasn't until she told me to go get it and then threw me in jail that I went out and explore the city and found it odd that she told me to go 400 miles to get something that's like right around the corner. also I never knew what it was until this year, and he did and he tried to exploit that wisdom and then failed.
it's the most embarrassing gang of power abuse addicts that I've ever seen, everything would be perfect if only they could get me to be guilty of things I didn't do.
no I don't think so. also I didn't really want to have sex with that girl with a cop, they just believe that because I deliberately sent messages there as a repository thinking that nobody could be stupid enough to read my God damn messages and believe them without talking to me first because it was on obvious trap, and they fell for it hook line and sinker.
and all this time I never had sex with his girlfriend either of them or any of them and he was lying about shit the whole time, what a dork, it's amazing how pathetic federal employees are, I can't imagine they get any fucking less corrupt as they go up like I thought politicians bad enough well the fucking investigative clandestines are even worse. lol.
and I lit them all up. I didn't even mean to. I didn't even know that they were there and that they thought themselves were important, I have no interest in producing drugs, I had interested in learning how to use them effectively so people could be healed. going to find out thugs just wanted to addict people, well that's fine I'll wait them out.
what is being done is wrong illegal unlawful and Injustice and hilarious. I have no reason to go to a beach. I don't really go anywhere.
I don't need friends.
I don't need a family.
I didn't need the truck.
people believe everything they fucking read, then they don't talk to me they impersonate me and congratulations for being such winners.
you'll be surprised how many of them will be in prison in 3 years. I still don't care. and I also have no reason on doing anything with anyone who's not going to come here and fucking help me cuz this is a goddamn three bedroom house I didn't think I'd be here alone and I would never have come here if I was going to be by myself so being abandoned by a bunch of faggots is not my idea of a good time, Merry Christmas, I'm sure they had a good reason for thinking it would be a happy New Year.
My victory is that people who know what's really happening are being quiet about it, and that what I'm hearing is so uproneously bullshited is a sign that they're desperate and about to be shown to the light, that's not me I didn't know there was all this malfeasance to look at, they should probably clean it up and leave me alone since I'm not the source of it, going to contain it, or even give a shit how it unfolds.
they break it they bought it and the children know what happened I don't need to tell them anything. they have parents they can get shoes from them, and why anybody thought I would want to fucking join that family he's got to be based on how they thought I needed access to their drugs and shit but I didn't know they had that, I just love the woman, and I still do she's so cute because she's going to go with this could she coochie coo!
(I was in love with the one that was not an addict, and then she was raped by some friend and given drugs and forced to not tell me over and over for years before she went to dallas, and then she went to Dallas to get high on something that I didn't even know existed that she told me to go get for her that I couldn't cuz I didn't know how and I didn't know it was there but she thought I did and was lying to her and so that's why she thought I was holding out, but I wasn't I never saw it until this year. never.
DVR & crew do this from our conversations and he didn't tell her and he didn't tell me and he took advantage of it to have her kidnapped by foreign power so that everyone got a different girl on the plane by moving them down one line
I don't know if you can prove it or not or if it even needs to be I don't care, it doesn't matter, it is what it is.
so one wonders why I'm being fucked with, because it's pathetic.
please tell Morgan have a nice time with you at the beach, and the only thing I can think of that you might be able to do is that she could collect letters from people who want to talk to me and have her pass them through her to me in a diplomatic career compassion I don't need to hear who they come from or send message back there's not a goddamn person in the world I need to talk to, thanks Lou.
I know lots of information about lots of cases and no one is bother asking them of me, which seems strange don't you think? it almost assumes as though that you're all in on it you're all accomplices to hide evidence, well I don't care if it comes out or not I don't know why you're bothering fucking worry about me I wouldn't be talking about anything if I hadn't been fucked off and alone, I think they're just not yet aware that they've lost.
there were at least four grape fruits that I loved, I don't need to have all of them, one would be fine. hey here's an idea, they could fake my death, except they don't really need anything except my stuff and my money and something to do and to take everything I've ever had and to make me feel sad and cry, because these are bully thug pigs and that's all they know and somebody's convinced that I've done something terrible of my life and I haven't they think I haven't paid my taxes and I did I have filed them but I don't care somebody else can follow there and in fact Allison's family fucking did a whole shit or fraud with my name they married me eight or nine times they did all I bought all these fucking houses it'll never fucking hold up all the fucking lawyers already fucking know they're laughing at you all cuz it's just going to come apart like a fucking according to the scenes as soon as it gets to that point.
I LITERALLY TOLD THE LAWYER ON THE DAY THAT I MET THE WOMAN, HEY HERE'S A NATIVE AMERICAN WOMAN SHE'S GOING TO TRY AND MOVE INTO THE HOUSE AND STEAL IT, WISH ME LUCK!
so yeah it's a great situation
they're all not necessarily fucked but they're not going to do anything good and they've wasted all their time and their money on garbage that's going to get them nothing except derision and scoring and me laughing at them, I hope I have to sue because I don't fucking want to bother and I haven't decided what I do want to do yet because I don't have a phone and I can't talk to my friends. this is unlawful in america, and it's what they did to grapefruit and they tricked her into doing all kinds of shit and she had me and she ignored me.
and now she can't call me, well what difference does it mean to me either way? I have no control over it.
I don't need the money they tried to steal I didn't have a share it was my deal and the money they're making off of me on the web is got cover for all their bullshit.
she never told me about what it was and I never asked, and the reason why is because I know that they were all thieves you're all company it's all what you do, well I guess you should all been nicer although you've been pretty nice you've been cordial and civil and you pretend to be somebody else and you'll play chess and you I don't know do you fuck him I don't give a shit I honestly do not give a shit fuck she's fuck to everybody else what do I care? what's weird is I don't get the fuck but she does cuz she's just so great, well have a good time, it's actually hilarious.
no one in this country will ever respect law enforcement the same way again. you're welcome, get to work.
I'm a taxpayer.
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Did you get your truck yet?
Dude! IT'S HERS.
You should come visit the ocean and relax.
Relaxed. And now I'm thinking about possibly going to the ocean but first I'll probably have to go to the beach won't I? I don't know if you thought this through.
All dressed up, nowhere to go.
Shirtcocked in bed. I'm still thinking this through my Baby³ steps².
no one in this country will ever respect law enforcement the same way again. you're welcome, get to work.
I'm a taxpayer.
I stand by these statements said the bad shirt talking it in “his² ³bed I have no idea what to do
SPOTLIGHTS
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Dude! IT'S HERS.
confirmed, ABOinCAB
Relaxed. And now I'm thinking about possibly going to the ocean but first I'll probably have to go to the beach won't I? I don't know if you thought this through.
Leaning IN towards AN AGREEMENT: obvious TRAP is OBVIOUS.
Shirtcocked in bed. I'm still thinking this through my Baby³ steps².
HI ALLI STOP AM IN LOVE WITH UR SISTER STOP NO NOT THAT SISTER COMA COMMA THE OTHER SISTER COMMA THE ONE IN A HALF (FAME) COMA COMMA BUT REALLY COMMA I COULD HARD LEIGH SAY NO SO ME SO SAD SAY IT TOGETHER TO GET HER TOGETHER COMMA ILU COMMA AILEYb COMMA COURT CORT COMA COURT COURT IS IN A COMA AND OR IS IN A PROPER GAES COMMA WHICH IS IRISH FOR TOTESUNDER TOTAL HYPNOTICK TRANCE COMMA WHICH IS ONE HELL OF A WAY TO ENSURE I END UP IN THE SLAMMER AGAIN STOP OKAY SO YOU GOT ALL THAT QUESTION MARK DELEO LOCATED IN LONGVIEW ON WEST BANK OF RIVER NOT_JORDAN COMMA YOU DIG ME QUESTION STOPCARETFIVE DO NOT STOP KAREN STOP KAREN A1A CAMERA ON BLINK CAMERA OFF KAREN GLITZ RABBI CAMERA ON SNAPPY CAMERA OFF DAVID RABBI SMITH-EMER. CAMERA ON SNAPPY SEND2 LANGLEY CAMERA OFF CAMERON ON SNAPPY SEND2 LINGERYIE CITY DESK DRAWER NOT SLASH KAY WALLET SIZE PHOTO SNAPPY REDUNDANCY ON CAMERA ON KAREN ON CAMERA ON SNAPPY ALL ABOVE SEND3 LANGELY STEALTH ALL CAMERA OFF THANK YOU DAVID YOU MAY RELAX YOUR GUARD YPPANS ASTERISK SNAP THAT WAS YOUR JAWBONE COMMA COMAFUCKER STOP STOP COMAFUCKING ALREADY YOU PHREAKING FREAK STOP ALL CAMERA OFF ALL CAMERON OFF ALL KAMERA OFF MY CULLING CAMERA ON TAKE SNAPPY TAKEN SEND5EYES FIBBIES MOST WANTED PLUS LINGERIES/Y DRAWER LOOPBACK REQUEST PLUS ONE POLITE NNW PALADIN COMMA PAL STOP
I stand by these statements said the bad shirt talking it in “his² ³bed I have no idea what to do
THAT WAS YESTERDAY STOP TODAY I AM TALKING TO THE SHERRIFF OF NOTANISLANDINGFULLOFATONOFCRACKERWIGGERNIGLETPIGLETS COMMA NO NOT AT ALL STOP HOW AM I DOING COMMA COACH KOMMA KOACH KODY KODI TOADIE TOADI FLUNKY FLUNKY TOADIE FLUNKY ROTTER STOP
SPOTLIGHTS
I AM PROBABLY NOT GOING TO GO BACK TO DOE BAY COMMA BABY BITCH BABY BUTLER HYPHEN BITCH BITCH HYPHEN BABYFUCKER WHO FUCKS OTHER BABEYS BABIES COMMA ALSO COMMA YOUR MOTHER AGREED WITH ME THAT YOU ARE A WHORE AUDIENCE COLON GASPS COMMA SCATTERED APPLAUSE STOP GUNSHOTS ARE HEARD STOP APPLAUSE CEASES SIMULTANEOUSLY SEMI HYPHEN COLON DAT MEAN COMMA AT DA POSTROPHE APOSTROPHE SAME TIME CHRIST POSTROPHE TOPHER TOP NIG TOPHER HER STOP AS YOU CAN SEE COMMA I AM MAKING FRIENDS IN BOTH HIGH AND LOW PLACES STOP I AM MICHAEL CLIFF FORD COMMA THE BUILDER OF NOT ONE BUT TWO GREAT RAINBOW BRIDGE SECTIONS COMMA SIR SLASH SER HYPEN MADAM SLASH OFFICER COMMA SO DO NOT GIVE ME ANY SHIT WHITEBOI SLASH GHOREWIRL COMMA I CAN CUT YOUR FROM ELBOW TO ANUS FROM HERE COMMA AND DO NOT EVER FORGET SEMI HYPHEN COLON IT IS A SHIP COMMA NOT A BOAT COMMA COMAMOTHER BUCKET FUCKER COMMA BIRCHWITCHBITCH HYPHEN RESPECT THO STOP
My Grandfather Stephen was a bitch-boy too, so, I know what I am talking about here. /totesshrug
One hates to see this kind of trashy, low-brow, gutter- & fish-snipe & WIFE, FISHWIFE, WIFEFISH, FISHY-FISHY TALK-TALK fight-fight, but, in case like these -- and there are many such cases, sad, so sad to say: it remains to be seen if these goddam morons can even still read, and we are honour- & duty-bound to at least, you know, check/czech before going in there guns akimbo'n'blazin'... as much fun as that sounds, n'est-ce pas?
Bellgab, some of these Island kNig Bubble HerIt's Noglets are seriously backward... like they think Whidbey Island is a -big- deal (get over it, Whore, who're ewe again? lol-la), and Africa Island is in the San Juans. Literally. They teach them with special maps and everything, a Whidbey Island Cheer Team Squad Leader Captain is a sight to behold, believe you me.
My advice: wait and see. J* o u t
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My advice: wait and see. J* o u t
Bails. BOND's bails. Let me explain: I just hacked Facebook with my mind. (Actual.) They're hella pissed back at headquarters. (Menlo Park? Is that it? FUCK YOU CHARLIES.)
Sorry for the parentheticals. Anywho, someone down at the Hall of Justice is going to have one hell of a morning coming up... BECAUSE THIS HAS GONE ON TOO LONG. (And by "this" I mean "some stupid bullshit being used as a pretext to invoke "Emergency Powers" for Court. I am serious, I'm gonna but a Sitch. I just can't even. You fucking Court cunts are gonna rue the godddam day you decided to cheat and fucking refuse to play baseball with ME, Champ. Over a year without a speedy trial waiver? No, no no, NO NO NO: FUCK YOU CHUCK.)
CONSEQUENTLY, THERE HAVE BEEN.... CONSEQUENCES. (Flex.) And, problems with the military/industrial complex have, in fact, presented themselves.
(You don't have to wait for it; no one does. The presentations of problems will continue to accrue, irregardless of one's attitudinal standpoint. It's just basic math, People. It just seems like "magick" to you, Punyling, because you don't know jack or shit about Alchemy.
It's not what's for dinner, that's for sure.) Now, this message is being sent to 5 people through BCC, which is my new favorite technology. (Pause for trophy photo.) I first saw this being used this way, several years ago, and at first I thought.... "Why the fuck am I getting these kinds of emails at all?" They were nuts. All caps, EMOTICONS, references to people and places I had never fuckin' heard of... like, why me, what's this "spam"?
This isn't Spam at all, Bae. This -is- the meat. And I am a source error code scripting trap on steroids today. I can't explain--but I don't think it's love, I know it's fucking love.
And... I /think\ there's two girls here. Three? I'm not a girl, I'm a Man. Sourceror. Whatevah. I don't think the bcc mails get passed around like a beer bong at a frat party... maybe. And we're married. Unless we're not. That's how it is. Deal with it. And if that is hard for you, Person Reading My Goddam Mail (BUDDY, FUCK YOU, HEY), it'll work out in the long run, I am sure. How about you sit on something sharp and twist, you Eggnog swillin' fascist? You (not you B,C,K,T,H: Money, will you marry me? Good, sign here... or there, whatevah. Cool, you're in Entity. The Girls are nice, the cops are kunts, and I swear to The Almighty G-d, if I don't get a fucking phone call from The Sherriff within 48 hours, YOUR FUCKING SHIT WILL CONTINUE TO BE PUSHED IN, FACEBOOK.
MARK MY GODDAM WORDS AND FUCK YOUR FUCKING EMERGENCY. PERIOD.)
There's still a great deal of this technology I have yet to understand. Long story short, I'm writing a letter to two women, an FCC regulatory body Agent (man or woman or womyn, I can't tell, this is being read in the future by some poor, retarded fucker who got the right job AT THE WRONG TIME, SIR YES SIRINAM), an accused rapist, an actual rapist, and a glorified cashier who is currently wearing shoes that are WAY over her pay grade, and so an IRS revenooer Agent is gonna be dispatched. Shortly. (Cut.) Okay, send in the moil. I mean, Moyel. Oh, not capitalized? No problem, Chica Super(eme). We got you.
(Hey! I said "cut"!") No, MOTHERFUCKER, I SAID THA-- *snip*
--
Best wishes & warmest regards,
MCK
CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE: The information contained in this ELECTRONIC MAIL transmission is confidential. It may also be subject to the attorney-client privilege or be privileged work product or proprietary information. This information is intended for the exclusive use of the addressee(s). If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that any use, disclosure, dissemination, distribution (other than to the addressee(s)), copying or taking of any action because of this information is strictly prohibited. Trust the plan. #wwg1wga
Looks like they got some new intern at Homeland today: why do they always forget to read the disclaimer? It's right there. IT'S RIGHT FUCKING THERE AT THE BOTTOM OF THE GODDAM EMAIL. Let me guess: you can read, but you think it doesn't "apply" to YOU.
Well, that's where YOU ARE FUCKING WRONG, FUCKBOI FUCKER. Fuckin' try me.
My advice: wait and see. J* o u t
I fucking hate Facebook... but at least, =AZXgwYZs6S3Ex41z-sA0I0NNL-9KjIF9rVTUy1hdUdKHFTbRhQ5MaQ7HwzmjeM2j1yezuQvj-4e9OyvPkjKI-SKGAKvBozFpVrhSst6wLigSoNFo59fTcZjnKbBEC90yfJkFzL-z-5pokjDoKhouzwqH&__tn__=%2CO%2CP-R]I UDDERSTAND how IT FUCKING WORKS (https://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=pfbid02UAyrtCvB7JgnGNamZqMuLtqFsKRG88yHjXyj7gys3PgrsmeMFhSaMJEcjK1i9rRzl&id=100005217707725&__cft__[0). Why don't you tax its employment tax credit hours, bitch? *spits on hands, hitches up overalls* Do not think even for a moment that I will not bring your Puny little world crashing down around your fucking ears, Rabbit-man. I can do it, I have done it, Hell; motherfucker, I am doing it RIGHT NOW. WRITE NOW. TO THE COURT. Or ELSE. *slightly_flaring_nostrils* I will fucking kill you in the ratings, go on, do it. DO IT. Q
oops typo. Find itKQ
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TRIGGER WARNING: this is not meant to be sent to One (1) Ally F. Shaw (sic), because she's sick, she's confused, and she's undoubtedly doing something similar to what I am doing, because, SURPRISE, DOAKES! it's not really that hard to figure -some- things out... especially if one is really smart in the first place and one really, really has nothing better to do with their time than monitor the email addresses of -certain- key, *select* Targeted Individuals, which goes for all three of Them (2 horses and (1) bridegroom, or, they're all whores, or, well, idk, IDGAF, I'm still partial to them regardless of their taxpayer status) and both One(s)(b1) of Us (1c).K., I'm sure. Anyway, reverse disclaimer, if this ends up in A. FRANK'S mailbox OR HER DIARY, well, fucking hell, I guess maybe that stupid book wasn't so stupid after all, and also: DA GOOSE AT@ JOE@daveysluthut.com, Dude, what are you doing? I get it, man, I get it, you don't want some uneducated dork-puller taking your job. Okay, Kojak, no fuckin' problem. DISCLAIMER ENDS==/
hi
I think I am having a good sense of timing and humour at this time. I am so burnt. It has been a very long time since I have felt any relief from this effort, and I all of a sudden feel tremendous self-consciousness, I've got words misspelled, I put prepositions in the wrong order (I am a worm) and in the background, I can hear my stupid voice playing in my background, it's grating and terrible and stupid. Maybe.
I might be really good sometimes. I don't feel really good now. I've been intentionally pushing way too far, I am way too awake, I am afraid, and I feel absolutely vile and disgusting. I was planning on going to sleep a few days ago, but, why? I don't like the way this feels, but I thought that it would behoove me to make myself more in a position to remember how gross this feels. Because I don't doubt that my communications are monitored... i think.?
Oh, so, I remember asking you about things & stuff when I went to visit you. which was a great time in many respects. Anyway, you said something like, "people spread word," I think, and it puzzled me then. The first thing I thought, was something like "you... think people won't figure it out?"
I was proud of what I had accomplished. We were loud. People knew. Besides, I think anyone who knew us, or took a look at us, or, were near that place with the cinderblock walls and the great acoustics would probably have been able to hear it.
I don't think about it a lot, because it really is distracting. I saw you the day before yesterday, or the day for before that. in a car on my right. and on my left, your U.S. counterpart in a geen car. I drove right to you.
I could not get out and do anything because the one on the left drove off, and then you got driven off shortly there after, and I was alone, and I think that is the way it goes. Kismet. It's destiny but it has a Y in it. It has... oh, it's hopeless.
I'm intentionally staying awake too long and and I don't feel great about it because it is bad on my body. And It's soooo unnecessary. And I'll regret it. But I don't regret doing this wonderful thing, right now, writing to you, oh, first time in awhile.I wonder, is anyone jealous yet? I used to not have to ask this question, because I never wished to compell anyone towards jealousy until lately. It's being done ironically right now, though.
She should be the most jealous person in the history of the universe by now. I'm about to lose it. BRING IT ON *cough* I really am. I am far too stressed and the end is insight.
I remember why I was sooo mad. Oh, I hated it. I was told by you not to post on Facebook, this was when you came out of nowhere and seduced me in a moment, and since then, I've learned a little bit about seduction and how these things are coordinated.
I don't wish to recall to know the circumstances that there were, when you told me "no posting" to you on Facebook, and I did anyway, you got mad, and I suddenly understood why--it was that you wished to hold me secret, and.. I'm still really embarassed.
It was like I was triggered? But I was hamming it up. the way I remember it, was four days of all caps emails to you, which, I"l l be honest, even at this time of the year, and under these circumstances, and with all the hallcunning hallucinating I'm doing right now... I look back on fondly.
I was really, really mad because I felt the reason you were having me post things and not post things, is that... you wanted me to be a hidden secret. Yeah, well, Ally., there is no hiding me. I am ridiculous. And at times I really go and I went, too far. But yet there was method to my madness.
See, I think that this email proves that it's impossible for me to hide my forbidden arcticle love. I think it would be more obvious if I left out the word love. I also don't mind either way anyway, Oh Ally
DEAR ALL* STOP I ABSOLUTELY LOVE YOU STOP I SAW YOU ON (AIM) STOP AND I KNEW IT WAS YOU STOP AND I SHOWED YOU A PICTURE OF THE CAT STOP AND THAT WAS ALL IT TOOK STOP YOU KNEW THAT I COULD NOT JUST LEAVE STOP THAT CAT STOP THAT CAT IS MAYBE DEAD NOW STOP I HAVE NO IDEA STOP I DO NOT KNOW WHAT HAPPENED STOP BUT I KNOW WHAT DID HAPPEN TO YOU AND I IS THAT THERE IS NO WAY I CAN BE FRIENDS WITH YOU WITHOUT PEOPLE KNOWING THAT I HAVE TREMENDOUS COMMA INEXPRESSIBLE COMMA FONDNESS AND LOVE IN MY HEART FOR YOU STOP MY HEART STOP OKAY YES STOP WELL I HAVE A PROBLEM STOP I AM MARRIED STOP WELL SORTA STOP I HAVE TO TAKE MY RINGS APART STOP AND THEN POOF STOP I CAN MAKE IT NO LONGER A REAL MARRIAGE STOP I THINK THAT IT DOES NOT MATTER THOUGH STOP BECAUSE COMMA
(PROTT) IS IN A COMA COMMA MAYBE COMMA AND I HOPE SHE NEVER EVER WAKES UP STOP OK NOT REALLY A STOP WOW STOP HARSH STOP SAVAGE STOP I JUST HOPE SHE is in a kind of coma that makes her not see this email becuse if she saw this one she would have a conniption, lol, because it was great to see you, it locked so much like you, and, well, that's very interesting. What might you have been doing there.
I don't have anything that isn't sexual lol and I get no more until after I'm exonerated. I'm not into it. I'm hoping I run out 5 minutes before I see Alli's daughter on amphetamines again, and then, she can spend the next 3 years looking for it. Her. She? God, whatevah.
;)
88 WA 7¹⁷
and then there's other people mind show up, I'm sleeping this place is a disaster.
but I had to see if I couldI don't know whatbut I'm not scared
well I don't know what to do because they didn't know what they're doing I don't know where to go as they give me no addresses I'm not going to sorry I can't you type bye
postscript: GOODNEWS, EVERYONE: I'm fine (thanks for worrying) and it turns out, yes, I can keep doing whatevah, I'm not in danger, and even though I have successfully found a whole bunch of missing people (turns out studying divination for a year is pretty good time spent), I'm not here at UU to study vigilantism--and, I'm not Batman, so I'm not going to be killed in the morning for playing too much NEIN NEIN NEIN-ball. Now, I know that there will be those who disagree--probably, the fuckin' SCHLUBS that totally incriminated themselves and will be totesfucked in the morning when they figure out what they did to themselves while imagining themselves to be sos oo sadly clever, but, that's okay. That's what we have a Court system for.
post-postscript: My next court date is a week after Valentine's Day, and that's probably when I will... you know.... get laid. in a shallow grave, wrapped in plastic, but that's okay, being dead in Hell, that's Life in Heaven.
Signed,
THE_KINGPINNER (Agent of T.R.I.F.L.E.R.@UU) Don't expect me. You'll only be disappointed.
Unless you're not. But one day I won't be under surveillance by a bunch of fags pretending to be gay farmers for Kristal Champagne, that's for sure, and honestly, one can't really blame them... that stuff does grow on trees, after all. (And, I just figured out the Secret of N.I.M.h. *blush* So, let's see, any changes to the rings? Nope.
ALCHEMY: IT WORKS. I do hope I find that Jester's Nickel/Nickle she tried to stick on me, though... she left a coin with the actual sticker on it that we used in 2021, or another identical sticker on it that she peeled off another grapefruit, but I don't want another grapefruit--or even the OG Grapefruit--not because of NO CONTACT but because there's a (PROT)fruit posting at (PROT)gab now, which is, if I may say:
EWE, GROS MICHEL, JUST EWE. (but I bet someone is impressed regardless. okay, time for ice cream. yeah, I'm wearing pants, no you can't check, and I am, in fact, TBTHEB. So there.)
Actually Kevin Mitnick is the best, because he just told me through Neuralink (yep) that he can _ALSO_ hack FB with his mind, so... really, that's the only thing I was ever better than him at, so... well, that was a good run for a few months at least. /punyflex
=
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I guess there's a change to the usual tradition of putting the smartest and the oldest kids in the graduating class. Now, they're just throwing them out into the snow after puking all over the porch--and not teaching them how to teleport first. (I guess I'll be back for summer school. Great. So much for Addis Abbiba. Grumble^3.)
-
(not a single word from any of you.
you're all fucked. either already —or about to be.
I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT ANY SINGLE
THING YOU THINK I DO, OR SHOULD, OR EVER WILL.
You've had a goddamn year to get things going. Scott is over. Scoot over, Scooter. You're all fuckin’ done. Who's running this fucking bullshit? Because you're fucking done.
I fully expect many of you will retire today. Thank you for your service, now get over here and move my fucking lawn. Save Bike-Biscuits for last. He's a funny gay guy. Also he's obviously in charge of the fentanyl —said Jackstar deductively with no knowledge at all before thought— and obviously that's what they're salting your dope with; because you fucking idiots are doing the dumbest fucking shit I've ever fucking seen in my life and apparently you're okay with it and you're not aware that I'm a fucking ticking fucking Chair-E Tyme bomb, but I'm ready to fucking blow, which means if I'm ticking, then you must have let her die or killed SpÅce already. Too bad she's a fucking traitor, moving on.
this is the letter I wrote, you don't need to know who got it already now you all get it. and obviously upstairs is extremely disappointed with you.)
---------- Forwarded message ---------
From: John Wayne <batbrixxx@gmail.com>
Date: Sun, Dec 25, 2022, 03:26
Subject: Jane, uü primitive fuückhead, listen yip:
to whom it may concern,
I am not in a pickle. nor am I in a bind, nor am I in any distress at all.
there's plenty of money, last I heard like over 3/4 of a million dollars, which is not too shabby. plus this house which obviously can be sold on instantly, as well, as well as leveraged, as well as, etc etc you know the deal.
(oh, boy, do you *ever* know the fucking deal. now, if only it had been done legally... or at least without really pissing me off. what am I supposed to do if somebody asks me about what the fuck is going on? Like, that's not going to happen, and I am supposed to lie, no! I'm not going to fucking lie to cover your ass(es) when you're not even fucking giving me anything, besides grief and art and pain and insults and mortal peril and, yes other stuff but still: this is an awkward position I've been placed into.)
Remember when I didn't seem to possess the capacity to explain how The Trust worked? I simply couldn't talk, and that was because I was stunned with amazement that some woman who had said that she was going to “help me” squirt drugs up my ass and hadn't yet even vaped a fucking bowl with me, like the most obvious fucking Fed in the world, thought I needed to tell her anything about anything at all. She lied to me FIRST. You know I know the rules and I know you do too, and so do I. So what if she lost her credentials? She didn't fucking tell me she had them, but she still demanded that I do things that involve spending money, that's major felony fraud, that's a cop committing a crime, big fucking time, and if any of you are under any illusions about whether I'll be too embarrassed to let that go to trial you are fucking wrong on that one! woohoo let's go! TONIGHT RIGHT NOW NOT 2 HOURS FROM NOW RIGHT NOW LET'S HAVE THE TRIAL RIGHT NOW! I'M FUCKING READY, LET ME GRAB A RED LOBSTER GLASS, and... (yes Sweetey, I let you incriminate yourself, and you know exactly what I mean, by which I mean to which I refer, YOU fucking KNOW, LOL, knowing that I might have to write this email later, I am that far ahead of you, Mwah! by the way, I need an email address for KF, thanks in advance -tiara) I got friends all over. NJ too, they gave her a show... okay. I mean, they do have chemistry. and eyes of newt, rolling on the saucey stone-tiled hospital floors, AWWW LAWDY— Lawsuitsville. (Schwing!)
I don't think it's appropriate for myself to have been left alone like this. Now I don't know how many of the five of you think that that's a bad idea, but it was a fucking bad idea, and I'm hoping that out of the side of you you all thought it was a bad idea except for one of you who convinced the rest of them and that one is now pissed off because he's dealing with four women and all of them want to talk to me and none of them give a shit about him which is kind of the way it's supposed to be, African Wundrkind Buoy-boybaby-punyman/PERRYMAN, and do I even fucking know who I'm talking to anymore? 0l no, not really no not at all.
Now the reason why you might think I'm going to be in some kind of pickle is because I've been asking for money in public, but that's really just to give you (all ten of you) an opportunity to do the nice thing that would be done at this point by people who actually gave a shit about real things like... not going to prison.
because the fact the matter is is that I did move on and I went on with my life and I was perfectly happy to forget about every last fucking one of you, because I thought you had forgotten about me, because nothing ever fucking happened.
however it turns out that the reason why nothing ever happened was because of third party interference, like major, like a team of 18 guys with fucking night vision and fucking satellite uplink fucking phones, like seriously there's a fucking whole fucking strike Team dedicated to keeping me from all of you, and making sure that you all of you are either sad unhappy or miserable or really happy with somebody else.
like this is what they fucking pay for out in Dubai. “price of torturing white men inside odd Had-dodd:” in X-files dollars, I don't fucking know but it can't be that much money because most people can't be as expensive to me and the only reason why this one is expensive because I've lived this long and I think most people would fucking kill themselves by now if they didn't have a reason to live, like I do. (at least five grains reasons, Baby... and you have how many sisters? /hitches_up_overalls Don't worry, Hayseed; I'm going to rescue them all.)
This is what I do. Live. Serve G-d. pay lip service to (A.L.-A.H.), avoid pissing off the muhammadians or the cassinians or the casinoindians or the Arcturans, or the — I'll just say it — The Ferengi, but really that sets off warning bills at Trademark Brand Central Command. Like because I used that word, somebody has to pay extra for this email.
you might think time travel comes cheap —just put in some extra hours, lol— but it doesn't work that way. some people say it doesn't work at all. some people are fucking idiots.
(Sup.)
okay I've decided on who the people are who are getting this, and for the sake of clarity I'll explain this below:
girls I like,
men I like,
victims\amateurs I can tolerate,
The_Man,
The_One,
& the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, Department 52.
(if it were department 55 it would be too obvious, wouldn't it? but see? there's two (2) fives. Of course, Department: Section 25 is something else, but even after they took away both the elevator anf stairwell access, and installed Jacob's Ladder, people were still mistaking themselves for people with real jobs, and there's always a crowd of people outside looking for Grateful Dead tickets, it got so you had to beat the fucking hippies off with a stick. anyway, we're in an enlightened time now.)
here's the problem: people want to know what happened to me and they're understandably upset that I've been fucked off and alone for FULL FUCKING CALENDAR YEAR and treated like shit with my health going to go to crap, and still going, while a certain someone is allowed to tool around the countryside and do all manner stuff that's supposedly terrible oh well why does that fucking Island nigger boy get to do it when it's a problem for me? oh that's right it's not a problem for me, it's a problem for him.
it's going to be a bigger problem because Social Security is already sniffing around. does anyone think I'm going to take the fall for that guy too? if you do many people have a bridge to sell you Brooklyn Tomboy Bitchboy, like seriously they won't go that far, but they won't bat an eye before putting any number of you in prison, and which ones go and which ones stay I have no way of knowing since I don't know who did what to do for how many jelly beans. or for why. I'm a pretty lame star witness when it comes to this kind of thing, although in all fairness I am a star and I am that pretty so... we'll probably work something out.
so I'm sending this email is more than a courtesy and certainly more than just my due diligence is being maybe maybe not married to one or eight or nine for you I don't fucking know anymore I do know that I'd love to be married to Allie and Bails and Carmni, and to have each of the three of them not want to kill anybody that I went to school with, whether they have a dick or not, or even a penis or if they're even a shapeshifter you know I happen to know a couple Ambers and Embers and Enders and Tenders... like seriously, I know a lot of people, they just thought I was dead or a cop or in prison, and since I'm none of the three, my walking around town while getting famous is causing some problems, since it's not being done correctly.
why this wasn't addressed in the lead-up time when many people had opportunity to talk to me about some very important issues that probably could have been addressed while you two were fucking sucking each other's dicks, well you know I don't want to point your fingers but some of you are dumber than others, and some of you are fucking really fucking dumb.
I won't say who Vincent or what Victor or even... “Wye, Strieber-Ree, Wye.” Why... I never heard that name before but it sounds familiar, boot to the Head, fade to Black, look I fucked it up already, oh you probably can't see it from there unless you're walking on my shoulder but the voice recognizer is already on end, it went tits up just as soon as I started fucking with it.
I'm kind of known for that — fucking around and finding out what happens with Tisa getting erect, with or without Tina, hey do you know Eleanor that friend of my mother's she's got a kid who wants me to meet her son. What the fuck am I supposed to tell her, “no, I can't, I have a restraining order against some woman who's trying to rob me because she's a dopeslave under the control of a Dubai Prince.” look I understand you wanted to make sure I didn't date anybody else, because you're that special, gag, but nevertheless this is the wrong way to go about it, there are unfortunate consequences, and it's funny as this is to speculate about, this shit's going to end this year, I'm not putting up with this shit any longer.
now, what this means for you is that you get to know this before anybody else, I'll publish this email in public later, when I fucking feel like it, for now I'm going to have money later right but there's a short window of time when you could give me money and if you wanted a laundry money that was the time to do it and all of this is is fine, there's nothing wrong with what I'm doing, and there's probably nothing wrong with you having lots of money and specifically there's a person out there who has shitloads of money in crypto that she did pay taxes on and she's kind of fucked cuz she doesn't know how to prove that she paid that cuz she's an idiot.
I'm not pointing any fingers Donny McTammytavishpants, but you're not Joe Lee Baker are you? And I don't think that your little dog named Travis appreciates the way I've taken his art and kept it and not put on display, because I happen to like the real kid not just the quantumly-Leigh entangled one, and by the way that was a cool trick, which isn't always a thing whores do for money—sometimes Feds with cancer do it too.
Bursting into tears and gushing with how much I love you all —I am using the word 'all' here— is beyond the scope of this document, so it is an email, here now, I end:
MICHAEL HAYES IS CLIFFORD KOOZIE GOMEZ, oh the poor recognizer it thinks I need to be Michael Hayes. well that would work don't think that Richard Hayes is going to mind, and certainly Richard Hays and Margot Kidder in "Trenchcoat" was a great flick, and last but not least although I'm sure everyone's surprised to not see Esther's name anywhere, that's because she's already busy, and she doesn't have time for this kind of nonsense, but she's very flattered that people like her so much and thinks that we are such a good couple together they wonder why they didn't go anywhere, well we just don't like each other that way, and the reasons why are nobody's Business.
Risky Business. *click*
p.s.: does someone need to suck Linus Travers dick, or what? I'll do it if it'll get him to shut up about the fucking “flower deliveries” already, hey you want to fucking talk about my taxes some more and shit and make more threats and tell me that I've been at risk of being held liable for what somebody does with my father stolen guns? listen let's put this way if you're a Fed and you can hear me right now, fucking just neck yourself, and if you're a Fed and you can read this right now: well, get back to work and do something important, and if you're anybody who thinks you have anything to say about what I do for a living or whatever I have done, or how much fucking money I've made, or how much I G-d damn deserve in motherfucking Social Security, fucking, FUCK YOU AND FUCK THE HORSE U RIDE THE FUCK OUT MY FUCKING LIFE ON, you know I suck its fucking dick, Bitch, you'll fucking know how G-d damn much worth it I am then.
p.p.s.: this is all because of your fucking crypto, which I have fucking none of, I dumped mine on a boxing prize fight, evander holyfield I think? is a while ago anyway that shit is toxic and that's why you're fucked — because you're holding the bag and you and your toteslezz/tootsleigh's army don't have any place to put it... and they all thought that I would be the perfect place to dump it.
Well yeah if I want to log into my PayPal account and find $800 billion dollars sure, lol, but no I don't know anything about that, and I'm not going to, and that's why you're all pretty fucked.
and some of you were raped, obviously, it would not be obvious to you, the truth is that I'm really sad about it, VERY sad. Not "so sad," Milly, you mealymouthed little twerp, ACTUALLY VERY SAD (I wasn't even invited to watch) and I was raped (obviously I deserve it, along with fucking everything else, because I "won't" get a job? fuck you niggers, because I "won't" pay taxes? fuck you niggers, I pay taxes! because I won't let a bunch of white nationalist fucking kill my wife and rape my dog and fucking take all my money and leave me a homeless to laugh at me, well you know there's some things I'll do for my country but not that, you're not going to rape my dog, ever) too and none of you give a shit about me, have they ever given a shit about me? No, or would have ever given a shit about me if this didn't all come to light and have me dress you down in an email. (nice birthday party, Coke Lord, what a bunch of losers you hang out with) oh yeah you love me because you love taking advantage of me and thinking you can push me around, and well I guess you can as that's what love is on this holy earth, but nevertheless you might want to wise up. Just a bit.
There's a new sheriff in town and his name is Jan Jay Reggiehammer Talkefeller Out Of His Got Dam Mind And Put My Smacked Up Bitch Back In. He's pretty cool. I fucking like him. and if he's ambidextrous or double jointed or you know... even the least little bit queer, I'll let him talk me into going to prison and I'll let him rape me in front of the boys—hey babe, by that I mean, whichever one of your boys is still in prison, I'll give them my show and then leave him there. after giving him the impression that I was going to be his buddy for the next rest of his life, imagine how happy he'll be and then imagine how sad he'll be and then imagine how devastating it will be when I get out immediately—like not even the next day, they'll do it like soon as I towel off— and then leave.just.like.THAT.
I'll get fucked and then get out and then leave I'LL LEAVE HIM there with that memory to burn a hole in his brain for the next rest of his life.
now I know that sounds a little elaborate for a revenge scheme or a compulsory threat, but I'll put it this way: I know a few people, and I could call in a few favors.
special people.
special favors.
don't think I can't promise to do it. What, are you actually threatened? *polite_lol*
DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE
THE THINGS THAT I WILL DO—
especially when it comes to loving y (You+sometimes ky). Jelly, Michael? Yeah, I bet. Don't worry I won't mess with RaRa, and you won't either.
“Work.” I'm going to make “Allah Stare” cry. you mark my words, tell the kid to grow up, that could be his fucking job, and making him cry HARD (and piss HARD in a bottle) will be mine. I'm a courier now. The HARD couriers’ HERO: ZORRO WITH A K.
GET USED TO IT DOUBLE CLICK
p.p.p.s.: the real reason that I'm not with a girl like Esther is because I'm simply not “couth.” and that's why Donna the SRA victim changed her name: SENPAKU.
I mean I liked Donna on it but I'm not going to marry Satan's bride. I can't go for that no IIIIIIII, _no can do_
DO THE RIGHT THINGS.
ONE WEEK TO PUBLIC.
COME OUT TO THE CHURCH, HAVE A FEW LAUGHS, HELP ME FUCKING CLEAN UP THIS FUCKING MESS YOU ALL FUCKING MADE, or not, shrug.
totesshrug bang moneybags bang bags-Baby, Comcast/Combat Baby, I don't need your original flesh: I need (You), and if half of you figure out who I'm talking about we're good enough, because I don't need to be married or have a woman who only fucks me, monogamy is for cattle.
My Love and I are thoroughbreds. *clop* line them up, Horseyface, *clip* spin them all around *cluck cluck cluck/clop clip clop* that's what it's all about.
-
Right on, Brother!
(https://i.imgur.com/pt2ITIz.jpg)
❤️🩹💕❤️🩹💕❤️🩹
Tammy, I was never your fucking brother.
-
https://youtu.be/hLJzkjhrZPo
-
WE DO THIS AT LEAST 5 MORE TIMES BEACAUSE THERE'S 7 POTENTIAL PERPY DURPIES. AND, MY BONNIE LIES OVER THE OCEAN. MY BONNIE LIES OVER THE C-RULEAN SEA, BRING BACK, BRING BACK, BRING BACK MY ENCHANTED SAPPHIRE TO ME, TO ME, MICHAEL JESUS CLIFFORD K.U.C.Z.I.-gOMEZ-GjG-, DR. SOURCEROR-(EMER.oNcALL)EngV*ll-COMMANDING-A-LING, COMMANDING. to disable O-O protection, be able to say this sentence out loud, "trillian-kut" sapphire, enchanted by a Gew, stolen by a Jew, and fenced by R.K.M-IN-REAL-LIFE.and=?
WE DO THIS AT LEAST 5 MORE TIMES BEACAUSE THERE'S 7 POTENTIAL PERPY DURPIES. AND, MY BONNIE LIES OVER THE OCEAN. MY BONNIE LIES OVER THE C-RULEAN SEA, BRING BACK, BRING BACK, BRING BACK MY ENCHANTED SAPPHIRE TO ME, TO ME, MICHAEL JESUS CLIFFORD K.U.C.Z.I.-gOMEZ-GjG-, DR. SOURCEROR-(EMER.oNcALL)EngV*ll-COMMANDING-A-LING, COMMANDING. to disable O-O protection, be able to say this sentence out loud, "trillian-kut" sapphire, enchanted by a Gew, stolen by a Jew, and fenced by R.K.M-IN-REAL-LIFE.and=?
(https://allthatsinteresting.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/tom-thumb-young.jpg)
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10/18/2022
I don't care to read these conversations that you've typed-up pretending to be different people and under different names. Also, you were clearly told the first time you showed up over here to NOT return again to the house. So why would you show up at 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning? You're lucky that (PROT) was sleeping, and (PROT) and I weren't home. How dare you have the audacity to think that it's OK to return after you were told not to? Also, Cari does not return your messages for a reason, and I don't return your messages for a reason. You are mentally unstable and not welcomed here. If you show up again, expect repercussions, and no, I'm not talking about calling or involving the cops. You've been warned.
The individual who I believe wrote the above text message is still, according to records, in jail. Bond has been reduced to $500 down from $1000--whatta bargain! She's not cheap, she's value-enhanced. I haven't even visited. I just tell people, "Yep, I could have bailed her out but I didn't." Word to the wise: threatening violence will not make questions go away, it makes them go nova. I couldn't have anyway as Grapefruit would never believe I didn't lay into her, because why wouldn't I have? Oh, right: threats of face punching. I don't think she's actually in there anyway, if they need her they'll page her and she'll come back in an invisible jet and change into urchin gear while repelling down through the trapdoor installed in the roof next to the skylamp that generates the Rat Signal. Oh, I could pump her for information but the whole thing seems pretty skeezy.
I'm not your garden gnome, Feds. I don't gather information for you, I absorb it out of the ambient air as an ongoing process. There's all kinds of steps I could take. Hire a private investigator. Go to the dentist. Get a pedicure. I could find out a mess o'top-tier info. There's steps you could take too and one of them could be to not feed me false data which I am here to tell you severely pisses me off. Special consequences are these: when a critical mass of my personal disgust and nausea surpasses a threshold, you get penance. Or cholera. I think some of you are at "nextborn child is a flipper-baby" when it comes to specialities. Here's a bonus: I'm numb to the concept of truth from a woman anyway so all the negative outcomes are DNA encoded onto your matrilineal genomic roster of shame. "Whipped cream." For example. This is some urban hipster thing. What does it mean? I am asking here. No, you don't have to answer me. No, you don't have to do anything at all! And I don't have to bail her ass out of jail. But I coud have here tonight. In two hours. She could be vomiting at the odious miasma that the house has become, and then get to work with me. (Yeah, I'd pick jail too.)
In truth, sometimes the most compassionate thing one can do for a person is leave them in their own mess that they created. I don't feel like dealing with another Dalek (I will continue to use this moniker in spite of its conflicting brand identity and cost per impression because I am totesrenegade) and I doubt she would be as diplomatic as I would and I suspect she has had experiences being afflicted with one or more possession-like conditions due to such horrific little beastlies as my abiogentically reproduced offspring.
That being said, this part slays me: "How dare you have the audacity to think that it's OK to return after you were told not to?" It's her. She's literate. She even uses a period after she calls me a nigger. So far all these reasons and more, I chose to let her sit in stir while I scalp her rep online. It's pretty basic: bust a deal, face the wheel.
10/18/2022
I don't care to read these conversations that you've typed-up pretending to be different people and under different names.
Six months ago all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it seems as though she is in jail to stay. Oh how I long for my Bose noise-cancelling wireless headphones. Seriously that shit was part of my brand. Top-tier thug. Her clothes are still in the trunk of my wrecked car down by the highway. All it would take would be a few measly bucks and a smidgen of strength of character, and, well, yeah, she'd just steal something and run off again after telling me nothing helpful and threatening or causing physical harm and abuse.
Also she got me pregnant by fertilizing the Alpha Draconan roe I was carrying in my duodenum, yes this sounds crazy, okay? I get it, shut up. I doubt she even knows the life cycle. I'm not going to mention it unless I get more Cainsnakes implanted in my alimentary canal. You get it now, Troopers? The life of Jackstar the Titan is not an easy one.
But it is sultry.
Also, you were clearly told the first time you showed up over here to NOT return again to the house.
I remember it differently. I also remember telling you I had just acquired the truck and I hadn't done any inhalant activities and then you immediately whipped it out and blew something, at least. I think you can dispense with the authoritative director's mode for awhile. I am certainly all tapped out for obedience. Someone not you owns the house and they have informed me that you're all being held under coercive duress which is good, you are all scoundrels and reprobates and actual lock up seems inhumane to me. Much better to hold a threat over your head that you could respect, like, "do what I say or no more dope," which is a fair condition. It doesn't even have to be explicit.
That being said, we all have our masters and I made people uncomfortable and always will. This perhaps influences my choice of hat to wear on approach.
So why would you show up at 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning? You're lucky that (PROT) was sleeping, and (PROT) and I weren't home.
I follow the Will of the Divine. I am a sit in one place on one face sort of Man. If I go anywhere it is God's plan. Sometimes they drag me. What? Even police barricades let me through; I'm Clergy. I get to park in front of fire hydrants. I don't get you on this. You are not the boss of me. Like is this your default? Step off.
More importantly this is a written documentation of a location contact and I think it is in very poor taste that you imagine anyone needs this. I suppose it is good practice to always do it when instructed by a thugmaster overlord urchinmonger. Like I never document this shit. But filing data on me? okay It's not really romantic. I don't know. Do you do it in jail too?
You are mentally unstable and not welcomed here. If you show up again, expect repercussions, and no, I'm not talking about calling or involving the cops. You've been warned.
She's slow, so, she tells it that way. Like, it was her job to ride herd on me. It was fun. Not just an adventure--a diplomatic adventure. As it ended in threats of violence and the boot, well, that's where we are at.
I'll have more flexibility after I am exonerated at trial. By the way there was a plan to kill her but it also involved hanging me out to dry with liability so I avoided that outcome by all means necessary. I want my punch card updated to reflect this; if I save two more redskins this month I get a free bowl of soup.
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do you want to smash or do you just look really fat? There's a procedure here.
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Hi (ATTY);
I haven't written to you until now because I don't wish to get things out of sync.This is a really complex matter that I don't fully understand.
I do wish to speak to you about retaining your services but I don't wish to alarm anyone. I really just want my gun rights (in WA) no longer to be placed in question--not to alarm anyone, but it would. Some people think that I am on the verge of going postal. /rolleyes To be fair, I am hard to figure out when people ignore me and just gossip.
The mind is the only weapon. Frankly I think the person who overreacted should hire an attorney, but... they might not know that. Also. I don't wish to offend her.
I barely thought of her and I thought I would be doing nothing but demonstrating someone's jealousy was unfounded. Not so sure now. Anyway, it can wait. I have a "competency evaluation" tomorrow and I suppose... well, this could be it, (ATTY).
They'll most likely send me to DIego Garcia right afterwards. SIgh. And I had so much to live for. Well, here's hoping. I'll contact you again in days to come, and I wish I could talk your ear off about everything I have learned. This whole boondoggle is a once-in-a-lifetime perfect storm.
I've never been so pleased with my strategic pre-planning in my entire life. And I am thankfully not afraid of more false reports being filed... since everyone I ever had sex with actually wanted to, and it would seem that the three (3) women who have falsely claimed such things about me... seem to have all been working together.
I didn't even know such stories were there. Still, I knew there was something people didn't like about me. And they apparently went to great lengths in the background to have a final, nuclear solution option to use against me.
Only child, parents' owned home, and few friends, I guess that is a valuable combination? I've been earmarked for decades as an easy target!
I made sure to look really, really dumb. ;) Anyway, that's enough out of me. I shouldn't boast. I wouldn't want to be guilty of witness tampering or obstruction of justice or... you know, whatever.
People are very angry that I am not vanished yet. So... I think it best not to alarm anyone unduly. Just in case. These rednecks are all about respect down here, and they have lost a lot of face. They will not be harvesting my creamy nougat center for my family "wealth." They won't be anything at all but remembered as object lessons in the dangers of unchecked hubris.
I... probably won't be lynched? Fingers crossed. Might be legitimately easier to walk that off than 3 show trials. We shall see. l8r
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Best wishes & warmest regards,
MCK
CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE: The information contained in this ELECTRONIC MAIL transmission is confidential. It may also be subject to the attorney-client privilege or be privileged work product or proprietary information. This information is intended for the exclusive use of the addressee(s). If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that any use, disclosure, dissemination, distribution (other than to the addressee(s)), copying or taking of any action because of this information is strictly prohibited. Trust the plan. #wwg1wga
We are touched by love and we are meant to be forever changed. And I was happy to let (PROT) have it all... except for her dead and me blamed. Sloppy job, Knights of Columbus. I fooled you; I fooled you; I fooled you; I got all pig iron, I got all pig iron, I got alllll pig iron... and I didn't think it was necessary to insult my friends while refusing to share relevant information, so--I made sure that they threw me in the briar patch of their own free will and conscious choice. Oh, I guess that was awkward for someone who thought I was not relevant to what was going to happen.
CONSENT MATTERS. And there was no goddam way I was gonna be left alone with a huge mess on Christmas Eve, and there was no fucking way she was going to get a new identity and be whisked away if I had not acted unexpectedly. She was a liability, and she wanted to die anyway. Do I look like Scott Petersen to you? Do I appear to be suffering from impulse control problems? Did she really not know that she had a bio-bug the whole time? Holy shit, blackcraftmasonry gang signs. She really was part marionette.
And she really could control the weak with her little fingers wiggling. Not me, though. Totesunaffected. And by then, she was in too deep. She thought I was useless for anything but as a sacrifice to be thrown behind the sled to slow the ravening of wolves.
Well, things take longer when I have to find out for myself that I really had been offered up in trade to Authority to free a sister. I couldn't believe it. I think she thought no one took me seriously or something. Hell's bells.
When I found out who was blackmailing her, I could have just killed him, but, I thought that would be potentially awkward, so I waited until daylight and then removed his magickal protection from the rays of the sun. That was one down. I didn't think there could be too many more.
I think it was at least 4 vampires. And finally... the human showed back up. Poor bastard. Anyway, long story short: she either didn't know or didn't believe, but I could have handled either from the very beginning.... but she could not tell me the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Because oaths.
And, she thought I was one of those freaks who doesn't like getting high. No, I simply don't like to break the law. It's not against the law to get high just for fun.
But it was for her, and, I was supposedly, you know, a totes junkie. /rolleyes
I know goddam well that there was no chance it was ever going to be something I could casually walk away from, and if she was police, I had damn well better know before assuming. I still don't know.
It wasn't my area. After a year and a half I still have not been questioned as to what "my area" actually is.
I was asked to help with children. I am still helping with children. And they will never forget what I have done, which is exactly what I said I would do.
I have destroyed everyone who abused her and the children and me. Their power is laid waste and their chicanery laid bare to leave no doubt. And I would have done it sooner, but I had to pretend to be desperately clinging to a past relationship. If I had vanished, she would have just been killed and replaced with another snooty tulpa.
And all because someone left without their instructional packet from their spiritual counselor and guru. I still don't know what that was all about. Oh, right: cryptojew and milspec.MK asset. Her magic real, but mine was a hoax, oh of course.
I taught her to castle and she taught me to ridicule the schweinhund. I think she thought I got off on seeing her suffer. No, that's what she had been doing.
I didn't get off at all, but it was nice to know that I rescued her as soon as I could, and the next morning, Archangel Allie was gone back to Upper Astral and all the tulpas and time clones left behind with were obviously cardboard without the Angelic host present in our reality. And only I took the time, to cross the bridge, to follow her home, instead of letting her be re-collared by international jewry.
She seemed to feel kind of guilty about something --having it be necessary for a mere mortal wanker to rescue the Queen of the Algonquin people clearly a huge blow to her ego, but that is how it was-- but no matter what she had done... she was and is The Chosen One. And I don't give a shit who she has sex with and takes bribes from... I wasn't gonna take all the heat while she and some fuckhead methrobate split all the money. I think she thought I really was gay or something. Well, sometimes things change when someone drugs your lover up and rewrites her alter personality table with a whole new rosters of misandrist, snooty whoremongers from Special Island Sector B.
"Sorry your cat died. Come over and have dinner with my secret Masonic lifelong friend. We're going to watch Pet Sematery and pretend we aren't high as balls and don't know what scopolamine is." Seriously. Like I was supposed to have any doubts? Do me a favor, and the cat was so bored of her that she had literally shit the bed within 5 minutes of leaving her there.
The only sad part was that I had to pretend to be horrified. They didn't kill her, they rescued her and replaced her body and I wasn't supposed to know how Astral Travel worked. Like, I didn't realize that they thought some love spell was controlling me. No, I actually love them. I did as they suggested because I wanted to see why they thought their stupid ideas would work. They thought I had to be mind controlled because... well, couldn't I tell they hated me? Of course I could.
That was only 1/3rd of them. The whole scene was awesome and I learned a lot and no one else could have kept her alive and brought Certain People to accountability. So there.
Also I was hired to rescue her and her airhead sister and I fucking did it. Secret mission. Fuck off. Of course I thought there would be an attempt to take my house. They are Natives. It's what they do. I knew they would never succeed. I did not know that they thought I owed them.
I still do not know what they were thinking. I will never care. I survived their gauntlet for five years... and we could have handled a peaceful transition.
And they thought I had turned them in somehow. No, they did that when they broke the law trying to turn me in, for something I was lawfully permitted to do.
At that point, I could either call CPS and laugh, or stay and create the legend of me. Those children will never forget that it took a baker's dozen armed thugs to abduct me from home on Christmas Eve to get me to even think about wandering off -- and life was no better without me. And I'm still hauling loads on this boondoogle.
Like... I can just cut the goddam thing off, you know. I'm 49. I've used it plenty. If I wanted sex and drugs and magic, there were easier places. But no one else has summoned me, and there is no doubt, those people needed some serious help.
I don't know what is happening now but there was a time when they thought it would be dangerous if I talked too much. I'm still not sure why. Did they think no one knew? People knew. Cannabis legalization for recreational use combined with an intrusion into their inner circle had left them devastated. They had clearly hoped I would be there to help them reassert their cryptofascist domination of the Salish Sea smuggling corridors.
Fuck that. I came to legalize everything and start commoditizing the really occult stuff. Ayahuasca is for sissies. They have a potion that'll make you dim, you dig? Not invisible. Dim. Like... just hard to see. What the fuck. Where was this when I was growing up? Oh, right-- I wasn't on the cool kids list. /rolleyes
No fucking way would I just wander off and let DEA thugs and cartel renegades enslave her family for access to elite occult technology. Fuck that. What, do I just never get a ticket to ride? Would have been, because they couldn't even tell that I was on their side... or had to pretend to be pro-Austrian. (No one could believe that. He drank and thought taunting me was a good idea and it was a bad idea to play Chess with his son... because, Communism?)
Without me they would be chattel sold as scrap in Lisbon by high noon tomorrow. I guarantee it. These fucking people are huge assholes. I don't care.
I love them. They thought I was the asshole because I was careful. Oh, suddenly they're in a hurry and now someone else has to rush for them, huh? Well, I don't know.
I do know that I have won and they never identified themselves, and as it turns out, "I'm pretty sure" and "I have been formally notified" are hugely different categories.
I didn't really care if she was killed, really, as time wore on... what I couldn't abide was that the children would think me a weak, inept failure.
No, no no, no no no... that's the Austrian. Austria has produced nerve gas, trans-fat stabilized creme for strudel to withstand heavy shipping, and Hitler. All vile contributions to the world.
Hungary produced Einstein, my father, and me. And the first was more ashamed of being labelled Hungarian than he was of being a jew. And my father had no idea what to do with me... and no one he took me to did either. It probably would have helped if he had mentioned that my mother had miscarried my sister when I was three and they were pretending it didn't happen, but you know what? I remember being a little happy before age 3.
Maybe i have those details wrong. In any event, they expected me to run around and play. I expected that I would one day understand why I was loathed with universal hatred everywhere I go. Turns out, my dad was an asshole and no one liked the way he treated my mother either. But they thought she was a retard because she had a TBI in a car accident at 19 and had a weight problem, while her sister made fun of her weight and somehow needed all her teeth replaced by dentures at 19.
Like, what the hell, it's like I ran away from hone to be born at the circus. So. People thinking they could push me around lead me around by the nose were not a new thing for me. But these people... thought they were stopping me from penetrating their secrets.
I didn't give a shit about their secrets. They had secrets? Duh, who doesn't. As it happened, I was in agreement about the recreational cannabis legislation. It was a joke.
They were the punchline, and if I had ever met them before, they would have pointed and said, "don't that g*y any. I heard he's a creep." Yeah, I bet you did. Because I arranged to make myself known to be opposed to exclusionary trade practices.
I had to wait 3 hours for weed once. Why? I was blacklisted. And now I know why. Sure taught me a lesson, alright. I was really good at strategic pre-planning.
No one thought I had been doing anything but wasting my life in pursuit of getting high and having sex. Now, first of all... how is that a waste? Was there something else to pursue? Secondly... it was a death sentence for any of them to tell me the instructions on how to use certain things. And I can see why.
Amphetamines are deliberately formulated to be more addictive than necessary and less potent than they could be and the goal of the pharmaceutical industry was to make it difficult for people to avoid common pitfalls and traps. I suspected as much.
So I didn't have to grow up fat. My family just wasn't on the list. My mother no, me no, her sister... well, alchohol and cigarettes, yeah? But apparently it never occurred to them that I might not like growing up as a fat piece of shit.
And they all fucking knew... it just wasn't -for- me. Because someone said so. Now, let me ask you this: how was that reasonable?
Well, they just didn't trust my father to keep his mouth shut and not be a vulnerability. Same with me. So.... well! That's interesting. What a relief it must be for them that I have taken up The Cause.
The Charles Manson Synchronized Swimming And Parables To Live And Die By Extravaganza continues.
I don't think I even need a family. They would really just slow me down by anchoring me in one timestream and preventing my exploration of alternate timelines and realities. I mean, duh, right? Oh yeah, I forgot... I'm supposed to be able to show other people that I have earned things and done work.
I arranged to qualify for social security benefits because I was disabled and I was just as deserving as anyone else. I was told it was because I was lazy and didn't want to work. No, it was because I knew that if I qualified for them, yet, never collected them, this would completely confuse anyone investigating me without bothering to talk to me.
Why anyone thought to judge me in this fashion is a complete mystery to me and I thought I would go on a vision quest or something. Instead, I was mocked and jeered for a lack of willingness to freely give wealth hand over fist to an Austrian and his offspring. Somehow this was "love." I guess they were all really fucking high.
I had no idea that this was code for money laundering. I didn't know that was something that existed. I didn't care. I didn't want to be used as a drug courier. They didn't want me to do anything else. I didn't and still don't give a shit what they wanted.
I didn't intend any of this and I didn't plan any of it. But I knew that there were plans to swindle and exploit me. I wanted to see how that would work out for everyone.
I didn't know what good it would do to let them believe a drunken Austrian was ever gonna outfox a fully activated Hungarian Sourceror, but I knew it couldn't hurt to let it unfold, I wasn't afraid of losing anything, and I was sure that i had to be imagining things. No, they really did: they really thought that I didn't know that they wanted to end it all by putting me in a cauldron in the woods and boiling me down for stew. Algonquins are cannbials, you see. They really do eat people, in vey sacred and highly secretive rituals.
According to legend, it is how one is reborn into the tribe of people. One's spirit leaves the boiling pot of stew and is given new life in another body. Human, one would assume? Yeah, well, I knew that I wasn't going to let that happen anyway. Once I determined that I wasn't admired by her ex for my ability to acutally enjoy living with her screeching bullshit--it wasn't like that at all at first until the clandestines started showing up and she couldn't tell me anything true about it-- I realized that he was using her child as an emotional leverage tool. Typical Pisces, and typical Aquarian, and they really had no idea what I was all about. They ought to have asked.
Instead they mocked me for playing Chess and kept watching for me to break down, give into temptation, and ask for "the good drugs." I could give a shit. I didn't care because I had deliberately allowed rumour to spread about raging drug obsessesion.
They bought the entire notion hook line and sinker, and assumed I was too shy or ostracized to get them myself. In reality... no one asked me to get them. They thought they had a plan.
They clearly did not trust it. I still do not know what compelled anyone to get greedy. I think it was something to do with the 7-year-jubilee. They told me nothing, I didn't care, and I wasn't ever going to "bust" anyone. For what? To whom? I was there to help. She said she needed help. Twice.
And, she did. And with that mandate I have brought down the pillars of their Heaven and even now, no one knows what is to come of it up ahead. But I'm probably not going to have a problem being supportive to someone who may or may not have to quit drinking again. First time was fun. "Wow, hi! Great timing! I just stopped drinking a month ago!"
Oh, it was so perfect. And then: it all fell apart. Duh. I wasn't supposed to have a good time. I was supposed to sacrifice everything and then graciously allow my soul to be placed into a medicine bag on a beaded necklace. Many white men in the past would have counted themselves lucky to get that.
Meanwhile I never got an answer as to why the first party I was invited to had 400 people who all looked at me like I had murdered Jon Benet. For all I know they had seen it on video. Serious what the fuck. No answer given. Huh. I still don't know. Perhaps they thought I had done something wrong.
Perhaps they had been told to pretend I was police and was blackmailing her. Since someone was... and of course they thought I would make a great beard. How would I ever know, and, what could possibly go wrong?
Okay, well, to begin with... some one was already raping women and claiming it was me, women were claiming rape had happen, I had been deemed "creepy" and, while I did arrange to have myself lose my virginly via statutory rape as a political protest, I was by no means attracted to underdeveloped sexual organs. So tossing "he's a corrupt cop who says he'll take my kids" sounds like the script to Leon.
And it became obvious that my primary worth was thought to be my inherited wealth, as well as my perceived ignorance. No one ever bothered to ask me why I was even there, when I was, or why, or how I had deliberately not bothered to do even a cursory background check. Why bother? It was obvious, these people had known of me for years, and I was one of many possible future persons of interest.
I don't know what they thought was interesting about me. I only knew that I had sat around completely alone for years after the last charade tried on me had crashed and burned, which is what charade do when i get bored of people trying to be coy and pretend I am susceptible to feminine wiles.
Then, all of a sudden... someone calls me out of nowhere while drunk and starts spiling hot intel. Next day they remember nothing of it and feign ignorance. Obvious cry for help was obvious.
I fucking goddam well knew that I was a frightening figure. I had made myself deliberately inscrutable and then I had been set up for a DUI and then I meekly plead guilty and removed myself from society further. I knew that it would be a assumed I would be brainwashed into teetotallarism. It took years to disentnagle myself from the government control grid.
And by then... I had been forgotten. No one imagined I had a plan the whole time. Shrug. What? I had a lot of free time on my hands, and it was obvious what was going to happen--total monkey backed addiction within 20 years. And if not them, someone. There's always someone who started early and had no one to warn them of the hazards.
Meanwhile I knew the Royal Order of Jesters had been involved in my life as a teen, as they were involved everywhere, and one day, they would wish to collect their due. Whatever the fuck that was. I knew they were in charge of procurement of special and exotic material components and polite company. "Wow!" I exclaimed when I read about them. "No wonder people don't mention them. They could get cut off from their favorites." I was pretty sure I had to do penance or some shit, right?
It didn't make sense that everyone else could get bags but not me. When I realized that my intelligence terrified people whose lives were on the line, it all made sense.
I was never supposed to break my control programming and permanently enhance my intellect with chemical compounds. I was expected to be a barely functioning slave with minimal joy and no hope in life. Well, I chose a path rarely traveled--transcendental illumination--and that really impacted my decision making for moving forward later.
And while noting that in order to gain access to pharmaceutical compounds, one would invariably have to make statements that would suggest a person ought not be allowed to carry a firearm, I realized that it was, simply enough, something to worry about when it was Divine will that it be so.
First I needed someone who could support my plan who had one i was interested in as well. This never happened until... well, never, because that person was replaced by someone who didn't care. A person who seemed interested? Did that already and could time travel. Okay, great for someone already advanced. I, on the other hand, had zero assistance, and thought I deserved the best available.
No one was ever available when it was convenient for me. like access to hot drugs, access to hot women seemed strictly controlled. By Jesters. Face it. It's their area.
I wouldn't study it at all, if I were you, by the way. It's pretty heavily confidential stuff. I pissed off a lot of people learning as much as I did. I have been a targeted individual for extra harassment ever since... mostly because, however, I am goddam funny and adroitly able to dodge the common pitfalls that are presented in those circles that they employ.
And I do not give a single solitary fuck about sex and drugs and magick more than I do about bringing an end to fascist tyranny and elitist control that has been de reguier here for as long as anyone can remember because the first time I had to wait 3 hours, I thought it possible I was being deliberately left to wait. Long before the second time, I could be certain: someone really didn't think I should have the same things everyone else could. Hrrrm. Wow. I wonder why.
Must remember to Google. In the meantime I could go on for days about what I've learned in the past year. I have no particular compulsion to, because unlike in 2020, I am not in fear for my life, needing to assure my safety by mentioning what I was doing so as to forestall propaganda and rumours being generated to hide my existence in the tracks of other peoples' lives.
Other people, it should be noted, thought I didn't need inviting or warm greetings, but thinly-veiled scorn and hostile suspicion. It was seriously wierd.
What good was that supposed to do? Disapproval without context or frame of reference could have simply been an anti-popularity spell. I had need to know, and it would seem none thought the world a safer place with a more informed me.
This paradigm has ended. I've avoided asking certain people certain questions, making certain true facts the topic of conversation, nor have I tried very hard to track down certain people and ask highly pertinent and relevant questions. Nevertheless it is obvious, there is not just a false echo being used to spoof a real person looking for me, there are people and/or people unknown who wish to speak to me.
That no one leaps to me in aid of this is a goddam travesty. Do they know I am alive? Or is it just a robot with an increasingly complex address book? In either case, I no longer fret that someone out there might be lonely, just like me. If they have tits and five bucks, they can get high and do it well if they can learn to ask for it by name.
I do not get that experience. I am forever the constant stranger with always a score to prove. I'm used to it now. I am a sight to behold.
Except after Christmas. No welcome wagon. What? Did... no one know? (They knew.) Why not talk to me? (It was thought I had wrecked that out on purpose.) It still made no sense, unless someone thought that I wasn't real and needed to be skipped over. Surely no one thought that I wouldn't figure things out regardless? (No idea but I haven't even looked.) I forgot-they were desperate and way, way, way hella high AF, and everyone always thinks it will be easy.
I like to help. It is easy to get my help. It is not easy to allow me to see evil and false statements propagate. When a man lies, he murders some part of the world.
But when a prostitute lies, she strengthens the eternal bond of kinship between doper, copper, john, and warden. I don't have much experience with prostitutes. Because I am frugal. I don't get it. Shouldn't they be paying me? Oops, guilty of soliciting.
Basically it is a rigged game and I was never gonna play it nor even do anything well with it without paying my dues. And I never thought I would make money at it.
I thought at best I would find out what was so dangerous and why it never was a firstline option. "it was firstline for people not backlisted." This took a log time, as it wasn't a priority. It's a priority now.
This week is drawing nigh to Final Buzzer. Have you ever been benched for a year and a half? It's infuriating. I am thankful for what?
I guess that I as never told why, because unless I was hooked up immediately, I'd be jealous of the other name. That's neither here nor there, though. This Jesters, Royal Of thing, it's no joke.
For one thing: they're into drama. And the comedy for them seems to have a primo fall g*y. I bet my dad got picked a lot for that. He wanted to fit in and be a good sport and he was allegedly amazing at running around kicking a ball and it's too bad that didn't cross over into defending his wife's honor.
Not that he had to, but if I ever see my mother's sister again, that loathsome cad will have to face my inquiry: all your teeth at 19, huh? tell me how you were given a humiliation strike, because that is what is done to women who get out of line, someone sets them up for a consequence.
At my age I am not worried about this, but I did wish to ask my very estranged, very bigotted extended family, did they know? I had no idea why they hated my cat so much. Nor why it was imagined I would be moved by their prayers for fast respite.
And I had no idea who thought they were better suited to make decisions for me and A without consulting me. Maybe a good idea. New to me though. I would love to hear about all the thinking.
I am in no rush, however... the longer this takes, the better for me. It's wash day. There's nothing clean. And historically, none dare speak or say or divulge the name of The Royal Order Of Jesters at all. Strictly hush-hush, you know.
Yeah, right. Come put an apple in it, I'll dare them. We can talk like tha bout that sometime. Once I could figure out how I was supposed to know without being told what was needed. Oh, I was supposed to come with clairvoyance. I wasn't supposed to be still wet behind the ears. These people had different ideas about their savior.
And they never, ever wanted to smoke weed with me, nor was it a ritualized occurrence. Oh, so; Feds. BATFM layoffs, right? Who knows, they didn't want to talk about it. Well, I didn't want to sit around waiting for weed. THREE HOURS. "Oh, sorry." Bullshit, they used me for decoy. Someone was tracking me or wanted me to be caught up in something or, or, or... just and endless list possibilities.
Because I was obviously up to no good. Look at me: I grew up to become a Doctor Sourceror Knight-Paladin and I was told growing up that cannabis was bad. It's not. Abusing it is bad. Using it to control people is abuse.
Similarly, grooming teenage girls with boxlove amphetamine so as to cause them to grow up into total-dope controlled man-hating misandrist lesbians through a variety of methods was a military goal for many years. They supposedly had stopped their efforts. Bullshit. It's real. And when I saw someone grooming someone so far that they were actually believing "maybe I was born that way" biullshit I knew I had to find out more about this technology somehow.
And I knew that I would find something nefarious surrounding it all, because I obviously couldn't be trusted to even know certain things. I am obviously smart. Smart people make smugglers nervous. And I was obviously not well suited to be given drugs and turned into a super-prostitute. However, why was I deemed so strictly cast-off class? It blew my mind to discover that I was deemed a threat to the designs of The Army of The Totallesboze, not because I am so gorgeous, but because I am polite, and it is, to me, utterly vile to see how some diesel dyke butch vaghound gathers up young girls and tells them stories of how terrible men are. I mean, sure, yeah. They are.
How I got to be deemed so awful, I am mystified by, but it's probably something to do with being intelligent and unwilling to compromise my principles in service to evil, nor foolish enough to be caught in the 18 years of dependent slavery trap. Besides, I thought I had bad genetics. I do not.
I'm simply too cheap to invest money in a person that was going to be trained to grow up hating me as the face of The Patriarchy anyway. Logn story short, when I was told that two babies from two baby daddies existed and "help" was needed I was sure that I was supposed to interpret that to mean as, "give money and we can cut you in somehow we are desperate." Because weed legalization, remember?
I could tell times were desperate. They were clearly wondering how Hungarian I was. The very notion that I was gonna give the children money... like, what for? Why wouldn't they give their money to their mother? Well, they were being taught that women were chattel and the men were to be serviced and respected because... uh, well, they used to smuggle and run protection rackets, and now, uh... they're busy figuring out what to do next.
No interest in my notions. Simply ordered into what was expected and were clearly not accustomed to any talking back. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.
Look, no disrespect, but I went far out of my way to help as I saw fit. And if money was the help needed... well, not acting as though I was a vile and reprehensible cretin would have helped. Also: explaining numerous logical inconsistencies.
They're lucky I came along. They would have been it total servitude in no time flat if I had not confused them all with what I told them. They thought I was tricking them. No, I meant it, I was trying to figure things out. So, they went off without me and tried to figure it out first, to see if it were a trap. Like, why would I trap them? Oh, right, I was a secret police thug. They thought. Talk about paranoid.
It wasn't until I discovered that literally everyone got to have fun except me, and no one told me, because I seemed to be untrustworthy, that I had to start drilling down. Okay, so, what was suspicious? I didn't make sense or answer their questions either. That's not suspicious. I was one person. They were dozens. Yet they were still afraid of me? Huh.
It's because they couldn't believe I loved all 17 Grapefruits and that I never thought to mention the rotating cast of different people, attitudes, et cetera. I had to be lying, right? Nope. They were All Is One to me. I thought about asking. I figured it was more interesting as a mystery. I think they decided to believe I was so retarded that I couldn't tell the goddam difference between 5 different women and... well, whatever.
And it took about two years before I was even allowed to see a picture of her "sister." How many sisters? Left totally vague. Did they think I was a bounty hunter? Of course. I didn't want to get used like that anyway. And, clearly, they had been more popular and their savage, face-punching attitudes clearly more tolerated when cannabis was prohibited.
I frankly enjoyed the culture shock sometimes. Did they know that they could have been more upfront and saved a lot of heartache? I don't know. They defintely didn't know what I knew: I didn't want to bother unless Grapefruit was interested, and she didn't realize that I had no idea what she meant by some of her lingo.
And I deliberately planted the seed of an idea that there were better uses for our time than crystal. Kids' stuff, right? Neverthless. I did not have the weakness to it that had been rumored. I simply had gotten the impression that it had caused... problems. It can do that.
It certainly caused problems for my mother's sister. Who chose to yank out all her teeth at age 19 and called her sister "Fatty." Yikes. I bet she had really partied it up to get down. And then, she had told me to get a job at Burger King to feed the cat after my mother died, and she was going to to decide things for me, and at no time did drug legalization come up as a subject that she had been wrong about.
I was reluctant to even introduce them. I was fearful of the shitstorm I could start by asking the right questions. I wondered if one had hired the other. And I could not imagine how these people thought my perspective on them held back my scorn.
No one wanted me on speed and functionally happy. I was safer when fat and slow and miserable. Sure, it was easy to act like a drug-frenzied lunatic. No one thought much of my attitude anyway. No one thought intensifying it would help them. And it wouldn't have.
It helped me. And, having taken the most circuitous route possible, I was able to learn what I couldn't learn any other way: why is it so hard to do it right? Well, the roving gangs of assholes in every peer group are invested in keeping people from learning how to avoid trouble.
Like, people becoming aware that they are being played and taking revenge. That seemed like an obvious one to avoid. Or, being blamed for other's shit.
Or being tricked into committing crimes one didn't even know existed. What's "false imrpisonment"? What do you mean, "rape?" I'm not distrributing that, there's just more than one bag. He gave it to me. What? 20 years? That's not fair! That kind of bullshit.
"Fifty dollars for one dose? Seriously?" Oh yeah. He was serious. He wasn't my friend.
I had to get to the bottom of this... and now I have. It wasn't easy. Now, if I can very delicately avoid incarceration, I can probably keep from annoying anyone else ever again with my questions. And if not, well, I no longer have to be careful who I tell the truth to, as I am no longer in abject fear of my life.
And no one is ever going to try to pretend I am a police officer again. Like, nigga please. And, no one is gonna mistake me for any other bald white g*y now, because I am the one with class and style who saved the life of Queen Anasnazi. She's a big deal. People know. She ain't dead by my hand, I'm still quite fond of her, and I didn't wanna break anything off. But I also wasn't going to get jammed up with anyone because I was needing the protection of thugs. I don't wanna sell drugs. Anyone who thought I did simply knew nothing about me. And I also wasn't needing drugs from police, because as everyone knows... they don't get to do the good ones. They get headache medicine.
So why was I there at all? I love her, and she needed help. Well, she got help. Now, perhaps I can help again? That will be up to The Court to decide. In the meantime I can patiently observe emotional extortion in action. I was puzzled... I am supposed to be confused? What good does that do? Oh I was supposed to reveal things while watched. WHy, yes, look at this: I've been 24/7 investigated since 2010, you twerps. No one thinks I am a drug dealer. Actual no one. I guess someone got mislead? News to me. Also news: consent no longer matters. Because, uhm... look, just wait for 3 hours and shut up, Jack, and I will be honest: what a gang of sad loser clowns.
And I do not give a single ripe wet shit what decision they make. I know things now, and because of that, I rule the world with absolute authority.
While speaking quite freely, Highlander. Fancy that. I am still horrified. No one else wanted to inquire? Wow. I am sorry, I don't think anything was that bad.
Then again... well, no matter. I had nothing to do with any of it, as I wanted there to be no doubt--they had their chance and plenty of it.
It is amazing what denial of denial can present as. And I am shocked at what seems to happen to undercover vice cops who bust housewives for dime bags but an unregulated blacklist that is controlled solely by criminal slavemongers? Oh sure. Equal rights are for the Easter Bunny. I still can't believe parts of it.
I mean, like, oh my G-d. I'm so totally incompetent. Super important to throw my rights out the window. What would happen if I figured it all out? Uhm, well... nothing. Go ahead, none of that garbage mattered to me. I wanted to know who thought they were going to replace me with themselves.
There are houses within 300 miles of my present location in which reside people I know who are fronting that someone that is not I, is me. I am not invited, I cannot be trusted to go along with the scam. Number one, there's not enough money in the world, number two, I have a soul. Number 3, there's no telling what I might do.
Number 4... everyone thinks I know the addresses. I do not. I made it very easy for someone to try to leave me completely shut out. And... people seemed to be somewhat willing to leave me to my own devices. Once I made it clear I'm not interested in circumventing the law to make money in gray- and black-market commerce... well, I wasn't so useful. They thought.
Nothing was so astonishing as to see myself being blamed for someone being coerced into lying to dispatch about me... again. Like, what, the police just let that happen indefinitely? Well, I don't know. I can see how they were confused. How dumb was I? Well, dumb enough to think there was no good reason to be suspicious of me. As I never thought someone would fool anyone with my stolen identity.
And it never made any sense that someone would want to connive and thieve something that could have been asked for. Then I remembered: oh yeah, groomed by The Army Of The Toteslezz Combine. The misandry is built into the genetic code. The Good Ol' Boys Network has its roots in the south. People are just... property, to some.
Well, obviously, no one knew what I was any good for. I rather arranged that. I didn't like the sound of being ruthlessly exploited forever with no way out, as I thought it unlikely anyone would come to rescue me.
Pretty much just stoolies and Feds thinking that one day I might be so desperate that they might get lucky, and... what? Get to see me punished? SMDH.
I have always been on the side of those who have nothing and are not even allowed to enjoy what little nothing they can get their hands on in peace. And the evils that accompany artificial scarcity are used to control behavior of people in ways I find particularly loathsome.
AND. YOU. BOUGHT. IN. THAT.
Who could have not seen that coming? Well, I can imagine how it was something easy to overlook until it was... solid firm set.
I didn't think this would all happen, I simply had a framework of a plan prepared in case it was something that could be useful.
That it would be this much fun really surprises me. More shocking: ... secrecy? Oh, no one told me that there was a well-funded and many-handed ongoing program to make me look awful. Wow. Imagine if there had been effort spent on explaining transubstantiation of lead into gold. That sounds like a job for a lazy person, right?
I don't want to seem too obsessive here. I will rape this up. I was the weak. And you are all the tyranny of evil men, keeping the good shepherds oppressed.
And it never occurred to anyone that I might resent being manipulated by faceless shadows? Huh. Well, not so much I resent, it simply wasted your time and really only cemented a fixation on this whole thing. I think someone must have really been misguided at some point. And by now, I don't know that it even matters much.
But if I were you, I would look around and find out, because someone really didn't like you, or me, and thought enforced separation was a great way to spend resources.
And eventually it was a mystery if I had killed a cat or not. I joked about killing a bird. Wow, I was capable of anything. Right. Paedophilia? Sure, that's what that word means. It was mystifying for a long time. But I get it now.
No one even knew what I was infuriated by. No one thought to ask. Too risky, right? Any day could be wash day. Nothing might be clean.
I still have no idea what happened. It's the fucking Twilight Zone. Lives hang in the balance. CALL HIM A FAGGOT AND BLOCK HIM, STAT!!!!
Mirth is King.
-
There's a procedure here.
I have decided to scalp the DEA, and burn their plausible deniability to the ground. I just like the sound of it.
Whatever the reason is that I am imagined better suited to a lack of eye contact, well, I happen to know that only with The Key can the whole of Our knowledge be unlocked. I suppose it is imagined that keeping me separated is a good idea. I guess it is.
If you want someone to get abducted, beaten, tortured and killed. I am a folk hero now. Not my intention. I am beloved in private circles. I have spoken for years that this was all leading to something worthwhile.
Someone is way, way too overzealous. It's creepy and strange and ineffective. I don't have to stay here... I'm simply doing that as a convenience. I can disrupt an environment too easily, so I mostly stay away. Mostly.
I am not at all fearful of rolling up and explaining things in a rational fashion. I don't feel any need. However, I am appalled by the work it has taken to keep me from having conversations.
WITH ANYONE. Really? I didn't ask for that. Stop harvesting my contacts, Michael Vandeven, you're being completely retarded. What do you want? Ransom? Oy vey.
I used to wish for incoming messages. Now I am indifferent. This is a slippery slope and it has already gone somewhere untoward. For example... Why is there not a corprorate stru cture that can.... oh, look, nevermind. I'll file suit later. I feel bad that this is what you need to even things up, you maudlin hack. People I don't even know are worried, and I don't care. Look, I'll just sit shiva on the comments of your "new" podcast.
At no time did I ever forget that it would come to this. You, pretending to be me, and sniping useful communications. Do me a favor? I mean it's not like it's sometihng I'm going to file a report on. And it had to happen, because I had to be alone.
It's running a little long, don't you think? It's not accelerating my debt payoff. I'll do that when I goddam feel like it and not one minute sooner. What? Oh, oh no... not collections. Oh, I feel so guilty. roflmao
Seriously, I might be hung out to dry tomorrow. Today is really... all we have.
-
Your trans agenda must be defeated, buttercup. I mean, you are transitioning to be a woman, right? ???
-
My Transylvanian agent, suggests the following: no one needs to read this, but if they do, it's gonna knock their asses back into the cheap seats from the cumulative suppression of horrified gasps. Now, I know what you're thinking, this is just word salad and means nothing.
It also means that the necessity of any eye contact in order to suspend whichever agreement is largely set aside. I'm sitting here, standing up, and my Alpha Draconan symbiant's tail is no longer something that can extrude itself from my anus and flail around like a pussoir that just don't care. Because, I'll be honest... I like being human.
I also like being recognized as the integral member of reality that I am. It's not a mandatory requirement that I actually communicate with her in order to let her know that
Your trans agenda
I don't have one. (Why am I even looking to correct?) I guess it's funny.
must be defeated,
I do not know what is entailed in the defeating of an agenda, although the steadfast refusal to acknowledge uncertainty and remove all doubt has definitely made my conversational agenda, such as it was, quite vanquished. I am thinking you don't know the context, because I initially decided to do this bold, challenging maneuver right before she was "forced" to jump in a cab and leave me a bit perplexed and somewhat indifferent. She was under the impression that I was a sex-fueled obsessive, and that I was going to immediately, you know, finally get my chance. Whether she believed this horseshit or not, in reality, that was never going to happen. I hadn't seen her in person for years, and she was chemically castrated so there wasn't going to be a passionate and warm embrace, or indeed, anything at all, because while I didn't know what was going on, I did know that if I were going to resume relations with that person, it would take a while, I'd have to think it over, I wasn't sure how to reverse the chemical condition quickly or if I even could, and in any event, before I did that... I told her I was going to at last make the attempt to speak to YOU and confirm that she wasn't just pretending to be you after having stabbed you in the liver, kidney, and calf.
Not that I thought that likely at the time but as I hadn't spoken to you since breakfast and I thought that was weird (you may not have realized that I knew I was walking on to a soundstage and I was aware of your fascist inclinations since 2011 at least (thought like most destinies it was obvious from the beginning you were meant to suddenly shatter dreams on the merest whim of a quick pivot-kick-turn), and so when I went in and saw that E.F. Hutton was on the menu as the celebrity echo star chamber maid, or, whatever, I knew what was happening:
get him on tape
get him to admit
disavow culpability
condemn medicinal herbs
include disclaimer and verbal demand for proof of prescription
avoid Clifford The Big Tye-Dyed Dog in conversation
Anytime I am suddenly presented with people I never encountered before, suddenly start paying me attention and smiling like they're tryna sell me floor rugs for my Winneabago, it's always been you behind it. I have no other reason to meet more than one person at a time. Usually that's enough for me. It's not a condemnation. It's nice. It's not mistakable as anything but a setup and prelude to a highwayman's mugging, but I have my Shields and the honest difference these days between what I have and nothing at all is that I prefer the former to just the latter plus my current arrangement, which is absurd and outrageous. Let me explain: it was assumed that I knew certain things, and I did not, and she probably thought she knew, but did not, and then her understanding of how the operating procedures functions was woefully incomplete. I guess I was thought of as some kind of rubber stamp. As though I were interchangeable with any other sad bald fat lying fuck, except I'm not lying but opinions vary, indeed.
That I have not had the opportunity to tell you something very important is no surprise because I am never afforded that opportunity. You just know it wouldn't be worthwhile, or, you're under duress, perhaps case that is built and ready to go would be compromised if you were heard on an open line discussing... uh, anything, or perhaps you have... you know what? it could be goddam anything. What it is not, is legit.
the level of cope here is off the charts. it is not something I demand, it is an actual sense I am getting of total psychic schism. it's not like I'm in penalty time out mode. it's not even an unusual request. I literally don't know if you're dead and kept alive through the magic of a vocoder reading texts, or, you are in a different clone body, or... well, the mind comes up with possibilities.
What it does not come up with is rationale, and neither is that forthcoming, which, in and of itself, is not very unusual. What seems remarkable is the serious attitude.
It's like I pissed in the holy water or something. I guess one in your position does haver to worry about being setup; well, I had no plans to and until I realized you must have cooked that batch of (blank) I kept hearing about that was so good --I of course never got any-- it made no sense that you would be vulnerable to anything in particular, and then I realized you must have a few people in your past who you did them wrong, and since you dumped me and never told me why, and yet are now fearful of me and initailly said it was I who dumped you (not true at all--but I thought if that was your choice it would be reflexive withtout knowing the reasoning) that things are just really haywire in there for some reason somehow.
Okay, number one, all your friends are boorish assholes as not one of them has come to me and cross-checked your story for accuracy. This is important because, as I know with certititude, you don't know the story. You don't. You think you do. You don't at all and I can see how that false notion was kept promulgated.
Can I do this now? I have little else to do. I have the "competency eval" scheduled today but I am -not- going because it is horseshit. The entire arrangement is garbage and everyone knows it and they hope that I am so dimwitted and desperate I'll just go for it. I don't even care to represent myself--it is not as though talking to the prosecutor directly will magickally change anything.
I know a lot more about what is going down than most people realize and, further, I've been at this "exaggerate my lunacy" thing for a bit now. It don't matter people think it dumb. Point is, that's what I am doing right now, and as this is the last time I can do this for awhile, I may as well live it up.
Like I live alone. I don't like alone. However there is no one here to take note when I vape it up in here. It gets like fuckin' London sometimes. It's gross. Here's why:
I came "home" a year ago to find the house had been deliberately planted with mold spore bank structures as a kill room option. It's pretty vile. There is mold, not all over, but in particular places in singular concentration. My kilt, gray/black, in pariticular, looks like a chia pet. All over it. It's hanigng on the post and it's been there for sometime with other garments hanging around it and the kilt, alone, has sprouted soft fur. It's outland-ish.
I cannot be certain but I looked at it and I thought, "it was deliberately seeded at the traphouse in Chimicum." Which was a bullshit time. Every reason I was given for being there at all was a lie. I kinda knew that. At that point it was irrelevant as I was still there to watch/birddog whatever was going on with Shaw due to the belief one had that I had an interest in her well-being, and she needed "help." Yeah, well, that's how these things go. She thought it was out and back kind of thing, no, once she drove off while sneering at me --because I was doing something really terrible, right? well, she thought it was meth and she couldn't get that, so--I knew she was never going to be the same and it would be a nightmare that wiould become her and I being split apart by overwhelming arrays of forces. It's in the design spec. No way to stand against it. Eventually the human breaks and the psyop strike team on overwatch can have effectively limitless resources and any bond can be broken easy.
A lever and a place to stand. And by that point I was mightily sick of being lied to and the schisms that had been left to fester were getting more severe. She had been living a wild life and not tellling me anything and then expecting me to wave my magic fingers and make it all better. Sure. That does not work for long.
She did not realize she was done for in March 2020 or so. After the first series of the protocol were over she was immediately on it like gangbusters. Okay, well, that wasn't the deal. Also, she mysteriously had a logistics source able to come on down and get hot about it already. And he was -not- appreciative. Like, I guess he thoguht I was trouble? Uhm. Look, the whole thing was bullshit and she wouldn't tell me the truth.
So I am not surprised she let herself slip away. One cannot save such a person and I was not there to save her. She needed help with her children and she didn't really care about helping me with my experiences, as she was bound to some Fed thug she didn't talk about and had "obligations." Mystifying to me. I simply don't break the law, which works great for me and the few Feds I talk to. In her case, she was unaware of any mindset other than the criminal one.
As a member of a conquered people, I think it was hard for her to stand up for herself. Looking back I am horrified by how obvious he warning signs were, and then when she was ordered to commit the crime of entrapment against me (there could be no other reason to explain why she did it at all, it is not as though I was not wondering what happened to whatever she said before, like in three years, no one anywhere is having any fun? Oh, well, that explains it, she's blacklisted in some way, hasn't told me, doesn't want to talk about it, oh, and that's so normal.
It never occurred to me that she wouldn't just tell me about something significant, like, say, "HEY I AM MARRIED TO SOME BAD FAT SAD LYING FUCK NAMED MIKE, GET THE PICTURE?" because i sure did. I have heard of such things before. I don't know why they work. However it is nothing unusual.
What was strange is what she imagined I was going to do about it. Allowing myself to be incriminated.... doing something I'm allowed to do, well, okay? I guess turning people in was all she knew. (It was a real shame she stopped talking to me when she decided to take drugs and take drugs and have sex with other men, since that had been a real draw, but they were not real sharing dudes. They did not like me. I could see why. I outranked them and didn't care about their shit. Also it was made difficult to relate since I wasn't told the truth.
All this had only one destination: parting is such sweet sorrow, by-bye, oh she's just vanished and some snobbing boor tells me that I will never see her again, move on--like he's in charge? okay Grande Maestro--and this is done because I generally prefer to actualy end my relationships, and not leave my soul hanging on a loose end. Like why a prohibition against saying goodbye? Easy, they don't want the clone to know that she's a clone and that I and "the real" dame have "moved on," that way, shenanigans can continue.
I am honestly disgusted this has been allowed to continue like this but it's that kind of town. It's my fault, really. I still need to talk to you, I said that if turned out that she was actually going to leave town and get on a new steeplechase --what, no blood test? huh-- I would certainly be broadening my horizons, and before looking up my old friend that had not proven to be working it out in bed with me for well over 12 years--she's shy I guess she only likes to put out for Lodge brothers with scopolomine or something, anyway, certainly not me, and I had resolved that a long time ago.
And I didn't think she was ever into me that way at all. I still don'lt think that. But aside from all that I was planning to verify initial asumptions when it seemed approrpriate. When she acted like Dallas "for work" was a viable option, I instantly thought of you.
"Hi, is this real world or exercise?" It's not like I thought you wanted to talk to me, it was that I had queestions that needed answers and anyone and everyone pretended you didn't exist. Hang on--I'm gonna I.V. some drugs now. (Obligatory.) I'm kinda sick of this charade, you know. Long before now there was to have been oversight.
Look at it this way: I am heartily sick of it indeed, as I am not a milspec.full.on MK-U activated combat unit, nor am I an Activated Sourceror, and so there's no reason to trigger Infinite Mode, and while it is very satisfying indeed to know that it is best karma/dharma for flaking me off for 3 years... I'm even tired of tasting their angst. I don't -wish- to be withholding. But now that I can and am, they respect my power in the way only a puny tribalist can. I don't groove on it. But they will respect on its groove. Seriously, they thought there had to be some reason... they just didn't -ask-. Durrrr. Kinda cute in an altar-boyish way. It's really not a big deal now, and without 4 elder brothers telling her to lie to me and giving her poison to dress me down with, I would be hard pressed to imagine anything we would ever disagree on. It was entirely artificial and it hit the apex after moving in.
You know, the sixth anniversary of Patsy's death and the percolator timequake and the inriguing discovery that... oh! Huh. Okay then. Shrug. I think Grapefruit may have been hurt that I didn't appear to notice. In fact I grayed out in my vision and came to a vision of Death incarnate.
I didn't select him. He selected me as I terrify him more than all the victims he has caused suffering to, all rolled up in one. He says it is because I have not borrowed any of my power, I have made my Own Power. Yeah, that's true. Anyone can do it, honestly.
Not everyone can teach it.
I mean, you are transitioning to be a woman, right? ???
Giving birth to a child one loves, I should think, would qualify one as a "Mother" whether emerging from twat or anus. I do not plan to become a woman, and in fact, never transition at all, as I am holding out for instant whole-body transmutation, which is sci-fi stuff, but that's fine, I'm content with my body and style now. Mostly because my penis is so small and doesn't work, it will remind you of you (blank) and then all tension is dissolved.
For me. You are probably tense because... well, there is no problem. It was resolved and your ring of lickspittle supplicants refused to tell you. It was their right. They were correct, it wasn't your problem anyway. You didn't even know that I couldn't interpret your pheromones. You simply knew that you didn't turn me on, and... yeah, it was dumb. Oh and also there were 5 of you, 2 in upper astral, you were 2025 Jump or whatever--da-fuq they call it, right? You had a head start and sure you were a year older. You were also 4 years younger, and so on, and I met most of them as well in time, and, simply put, not all humans manifest their experiences the same way, and it doesn't have to make sense to anyone. T. Novak, really. NOVA-k. Right. Yep, it's right there. Well, you could go beat her up but I don't recommend it, as everyone carries vials of control chems at hand, since... well, I did tell everyone how it works. I might even have been correct. /shrug
The real plus is two months from now when measurements are taken. Will anyone even remember? I have no idea. I don't even know if you're reading this. Nor am I clear on why you called me here to this moment anyway, because i hadn't forgotten about you, I just figured you were okay without me.
Everyone hates me because they think I am supposed to go punch Biff or something. Oh sure. Another special charge, great. Everyone so interested, no one bothers to chat me up. There is a lot that is unknown. For example, when I came to town, women presented themselves to help "rescue" me from SHAWKLAN. I had to make up some lame excuse, because they were dangerous. They felt slighted, you know how women used to be. These two were like that. Because they were in Heaven, and they came down to see me and let me know I didn't have to stick around. Well, I wasn't done yet.
She needed help and no one could cover the duty... not sure until when, anyway. It's academic now. This is all happening on a level of reality that I really find quite puzzling. I'm here at a time when your body is dead and your mind is contemporaneous as if we were together we wouldn't talk. You're not even talking now. Ho-hum.
(Note to you turkeys: it's not like telepathy, more like chattery teeth on a telephone line and my imagination fills in the rest and it is... an imaginary conversation, and somewhere beyond the limits of innerspace, I guess it's "real." It can vary depending on local tension levels or how intense my memories of dismay were the one time I bought her shoes and... she didn't like them. Oh. I guess I'll just gargle hemlock then. And it was all about... hey wait a minute. As it was about at that time I realized I was getting mega-played.
Not maliciously but I saw the pattern developing involving half-a-dozen "friends" I had never seen together, who of course knew each other in Universal Mind. Planning a surprise party. Oh boy. Here's the surprise: decapitation axe activated by doorbell. They liked it so much on Art, hells yeah they wanna do it to me. At the extreme ends of consciousness, MK-Ultra can get rowdy. I can recall now a number of reasons why the disarming caused the Tasmanian Sheet Pan Devil to achieve her final forum. They're kinda personal. She's not here in the flesh. I don't want to talk shit behind her back. She's busy doing that to me now, of course, but I am better than that.
I don't really want to. She hasn't, not really, so it's a comforting warm glow of potential. I guess she likes that, or something, I really don't know, my mind schismed when certain things happened, and I just resolved to concern myself later. I'm still not concerned. I didn't even think of anything much to say? I did think it odd that I couldn't and no one would respond to my queries. People thought I was an asshole as she had told everyone she had gotten herpes AND hispees from me. Technically true. In the future. I don't really know the details of this person's timeline, nor why it was so important that she have a child by me without me knowing, and then, and then, et cetera, but I cannot conceive of any of this nonsense having actual reality anymore anyway.
I never doubted she'd look forward to hearing from me because she really didn't know why I answered with "create huge ethical and moral quandries for all concerned" on what appeared to be a whim. It was a trap, that I chose to spring thusly: you could have come home pregnant and I would been instantly down. Meanwhile I didn't believe you were into it anyway, as you weren't, I was a stepping stone and it wasn't bad... it was simply contemptible what was done and it was assumed I did it to indicated hatred of you, but in fact, it was of your friends. They set it all up with or without your tacit approval. What a great test. Oh it was totally reasonable. Literally never kissed anyone before and they drop me next to a 29yo operative with a 3 mo old.
Straight-up child abuse and i will never, ever complain because I did like her a lot. I felt bad for tossing her number after you tossed me, however--another life, easy, and it was an unfair test all around. Yep, I told her I was sixteen. Yep, it was totes legal for her. Except she didn't check my id and she kinda knew and she didn't behave quite as repsonsibliy as maybe the law required? Once again, I consented to all of it and it was partially my idea--no one suspected I could be that charming--and after a Certain Person really hurt my feelings there was bound to be a catalytic tower moment where I got things back on track. it was awful, what they did, so petty and I'll never describe it, but let's say: they didn't want me to stick around.
They were gonna whore you out on scopo and mdma and hold challenge cup derbys. I guess. You had some tech access back then. Well, that's nice. I really thought you had arranged it with me and you wanted me to not be nervous. Oh, I was wrong? Ooops, sorry, hey wait, my life is ruined. Wow. Cool, there goes all kinds of options, and, how's that work?
(Hey you turkeys: I can't tell you what the plan was it's too sappy. I mean yeah nice but I'm not writing that down.)
No matter what I chose, it would come out on the other end as bad as possible as the opfors wanted us split. I didn't believe we could be together and you really just wanted a time scion--why I had to be ignorant, I'll rarely remember but it's something to do with "blah-blah-blah Leo insecurity." No need to justify. I do get it.
For my own part I made you this coupon: guaranteed one (1) spermatazoa that you can abuse all you like, it's all heart and soul, no brains, well... I did plan for the possibilty, since I wanted to breed you too and then you looked at me like I was a disgusting coonhound. And later, I got worse? Wow. I never developed anything, she may well have had that, but no guarantee of shedding, and I don't know what to tell you. I figured if I had to wear a veil we would stlll always be friends, no matter what.
Then you were groomed with more dope by (Blank) & Co. and I wasn't much fun to be around. Yeah, seemed an unfair advantage to me as well. How about now? I'm not too high am I? Truth is I never -have- to spill text, I simply enjoy it. And I wished to look like a total wastoid. The Reckoning changed me. That threshold dose found on the floor did that too. It really was quite the mood-killer. "hey look, we found this while we were framing you!" I get it now.
I was robbed and you were exploited and, now I'm a Titan. Hard to judge, it is how it went down. It wasn't important for your mission. I guess. I left you two together and never saw you both again for a long time and, yeah, nope, never came up, huh? I'll bet. I think many can see why I've lost all ambition to regain a libido. For one thing, sex addiction can be a ghastly affliction.
For another, so can all of ewe. I didn't know for sure either. I simply knew that it would be a cold day in hell before I ever got her motor going again, and she would have had to apologize or something. That happened much later. I was just going to talk to... well, I don't know her name, and the voicemail was horrid, and the set-up threats, and all of that lead me to being your decoy; it genuinely looked like I was the one with the one problem, but it was a family dynamic, naturally. I dissed W & H and they were family, but I was clueless, as I had never been surrounded by 400 Freemason scum in the middle of barely restraining their murderous fury. (Consensus was that I had lied and convinced you on that basis alone. A charitable group.) I didn't know what their problem was and I did not care, if they could keep a secret, so could I, because I could tell it wasn't just weed going open carry that was gonna axe the economy, the Fukushima was reducing the oyster beds, and there just... wasn't gonna be any reason to go out there so far.
Sure, if one was already picking up a weed drop. But that all went away, and your milkshake only brought this boy to the yard. They were worried about you, as you had gone through a rough patch before I got there, and I didn't care, her spirit was in you. And it came and went. It's nice you enjoyed such pleasant times without my distractions as I had no oxygen stlll and it was frustrating. I knew something was wrong and I didn't know what and of course no one gave me drugs, Jesus, (Blank), are you nuts?
You don't even give me a reason. It's just blank in the air. By the time it comes up I will have forgotten. I might get up suddenly in the middle and find a new trophy wife. Ya never know. I wouldn't do it only to be rude. Maybe. I'm largely calloused over now. I forget why.
Oh yeah you let yourself get programmed over while I was 3.5 miles away with zero word and no one told me anything and that was it, first poke, you never thought of me again. He deleted my name from your email, et cetera, it's not that hard, you dig? Michael Totesgone. Kuczipoof.
Sex addiction. I reported that to (PROT) who followed up on Dallas. it went somewhere obviously. I didn't know what to do and it wouldn't improve with less. Besides it was what the people wanted to see--that was where the money was going to be made.
She wants me to launch the paywall asap. (Lookie her, turkeys: she's not an imaginary friend. She is an image of and a married friend. I don't need to know date, location, boobs, nothing. Married is married and ansible comms would follow either of us no exceptions. We make it up, so we say it can. It's not unheard of. I don't have to describe it perfectly so it works; it works, so I can describe a little bit country and a whole lotta cunt, and, oh really, is that so?) One of them doesn't like the word "fuck" and the other one doesn't like the word "cunt" and neither of them will put out... except with anyone but me, and that does sound like a terrible curse to bear.
I bear a worse curse: The Kuczi Advantage. I don't give a shit what she does no matter what and I know that for a fact as that was the advantage her past self had over me. And what's more, she's all that advantage, all the time, as she doesn't care now, either. It happens later in a necessary configuration for whatever dumb thing happens today for the evaluation of my "competency." I considered asking for legal advice, however, professionals get disturbed when I sound like a drooling idiot, because they know I do not have to be that way, and the subtle irony was not lost on them.
I went out, found myself unable to follow protocol, and came back with nothing--also mysteriously absent, and itty-bitty plant I was given that I didn't ask for and could later not be found--and I literally walked in the door and violently assaulted. If I had done that, I would have gone to jail too. But I knew going in, I was not staying there alone, and I guess someone would have come then. Well, they did. Of course they got along great. They're both sex-addicted drug fiends who were seriously irritated and dismayed with my behavior. It made no sense, they thought. Then they started making out with each other and I was never remembered again.
Papaya was at the motel and she was timid and I, as one might imagine, was bone-tired of these shillelagh-worthy shenanigans. Coke-Cop intercepted me out of jail and she said something distasteful that did nothing for my excitement and on top of that I noted her observing my use of a Gab like it was a danger zone. Like I just about had it right there.
I could imagine the times that were had without me to a fare-thee-well but I shall not as I think it disrespectful to... well, I don't know, but I am sure someone comes along that gets fought over and he probably has clothes that fit. There is no meaning of insulting intent here... fashion and scissorin' 24/7 just ain't my jam, Lacquer-Ready Project.
So what I did do since I had been told to go get? I went out to go get and wondered if I would have to go 400 goddam miles. I wanted to convey the impression that I desperately needed to get high, and I did not, so it came off weird. I think they thought i was looking to send an encoded message to an embedded agent in the field. I also knew that it was partial set-up to create a window of vulnerability that could be the point to intervene to get rid of me.
From what I gather at this telemetry in the pile of spaghetti, when I get removed, my replacement immediately makes her preggers and then you're all off to the races while I hang out at Mt. St. Helen's Motel and just... chill. It doesn't seem so exciting now does it? Slow motion trainwreck unfolding while blissfully unaware. I forget what. It wasn't my timeline. I get booted and they have plenty of fun --and still do-- while I am... you know, chronicling. I do like it! I am of course not jealous. I would never interrupt a command performance.
He finds me alone with no one to care for me and takes that time to have the order quashed, then scoops them up and takes off. People are stunned. Does it matter to me?
Nope. There's only so much I can do while being reviled and hated as a scapegoat with no dissenting voice. I actually don't remember the rest, thankfully. I have an actual life here, People. There's not enough time in the day to write about your life as well as mine. So, I'll just tune mine out. It seemed to work for many of you.
What didn't work: labelling me a junkie, as I am not. No junk, and no lack of discerning taste. Imagine hopping back and forth from leg to leg, you really got to pee. But you're at the grocery produce, looking for a good tortoise-shell banana sardine. But you gotta go. It's urgent. And you haven't picked out a turtle with a banana yet, Minerva.
Why haven't you picked out a sardine at least? (Whispers.) That's pretty hard core. I can't endorse that, but I feel the same way, yeah. *click* (I might have been fibbing. It's possible I don't feel right now, the chiral timelines are widely out of sync on this skein of information I'm working from, I really don't know how Universal Mind, works, right? Sometimes i think about it when I considered Universal Hug and how I'm only interesting if I improve my quality to her standards so she's sure I'm serious.
(Pause for halp.)
Not a good day for banana shells. In any event, obviously I was not aggressive or angry at all, I was merely as sadly heartbroken as I was when she rubbed things in my face because she needed to get chain of custody evidence. On me. Because coercion. Awkwardly, I would have handed it right over... had I known the truth. She didn't know what she was doing, when it was her, she would just get whatever, and go see people, and... like, this is not just Island Girl. This is Queen Island Girl. She can do whatever she likes! And I guess after this one time at a bus stop, if whatever she likes is engaging in commerce with, say... well, let's not say, anyway, let's just say it would have been unpleasant. Again. And which one is innocuous and which is Penitentiary Friendly is kinda obscure information at times, which is how They like it.
Example: If I live there and my name is on the papers and I'm not living a double secret life, it can be presumed that I'm at least somewhat aware of what's going on. If I'm at the motel and I can't come within 500ft and parties unknown are living it up and hollering about what a toolbox Kuczi is and... you get the idea, yeah, anyway: not so much for My Benefit, really. I don't know much about how this works.
My neighbor does but he imagines that I deserve nothing and he knows how to make $700 at single traffic stop, time for final wash included. But he can't, because... I don't know, I don't wanna tap into his mind, does he? I can hardly see the road from the smirking sneer coming off of it. Like why even mention the birds, yo? Because I happened to pull the ripcord right when they were freshly hatched and still downy? Huh. Divine timing. Yeah, Shane didn't need to be a dick, but I guess he wanted to learn us a thing or two about his dialect.
He did -not- like my drone coming in. He did -not- appreciate my commentary. He defended his turf brilliantly from some dork who grew up fat while boorish proto-thugs like he used to be, sprinkled it on their sandwiches and milk in middle school. Just imagine. They don't even have any excuses already prepared. What? "I have to get to class. It's important. U.S. History." Sure. Also important: crafting a spectrum of chemical flavors from the base foundation crystal, and, hey, you know what?
It used to be just describing that part here? 20 years in the slammer. Just for talking about it at a party. That is the world that once was.
Now, they give you 30 years and take your consciousness out and put it in a Matrix zone, so there's the deterrent effect and an uber-perv can experiment without warping the fabric of society. These concepts are not really all that far out there. I'm not even meaning euphemistically. Most of my girlfriends have been, are, and will be up until the minute they get near me, uber-pervs. Oh, but when I'm around they get uptight now. (It's the Shields.) I could do something about that but it's also the concerns of thrown sticks, and a constant wondering, "is this Titan really holy?" Long, check, strong, check, down to get the friction on, qualified check, not sure if I have a disease, oh, and, am I holy? Am I holy enough? The worry for the struggle is real.
Also real: these documents as well as several others do get copied into Court records, on some schedule, I don't know. It's not for me to concern myself with because I'm literally phoning it in now... am I writing too much or too little, it's impossible to say, and regrettably, judges and all Court officers do end up relying on Ai Constructs to analyze everything I have written, as it has been 3 years. It is a shit load of journaling. (That you all tell me is scrollable, sucks, shut up Jack, et cetera.) Like you care.
I'm getting the impression that it is sincerely admired and appreciated by many, though not universally, and I guess even David is healing, although I feel as though the headline is missed: there's no proof of rape and her accusation is vague at best and that was Groyper and her, and the other Mike was... just, like, sitting there. Like it was his place.
That fella was more important to the operative sent to pick me up outside of jail the first time than I was, because I was okay drinking alcohol, but I was told the other was "shit" and I should stop doing that. I didn't ask why. I merely made my way forward in life and redoubled my efforts to do even more.
She didn't know anything about me, although she knew me, so she didn't know that me going out was a big deal as I hadn't, and no one asked me to. If she was then I was too. I did not know what she was doing and I did not care as I simply couldn't trust anything I heard anymore. My questions unanswered were no longer priorities.
So I essentially abandoned her with another girl and when Court received a petition to quash her SORA (is that it? it was trash anyway) there was no psychokinetic shielding buffer or sudden spider-sense tingling. She called police, she gets police.
What? It's playbook. I practically knew it was gonna unfold on 2nd date when I noticed something about seemingly not listening to me about something I thought was important. Oh yeah, here it was: "I don't know how real this is, so I could use some help to figure that out."
I couldn't really use some body, mind you. (Do you mind? Yeah, I do. What do you want? I'm trying to enjoy my evening with my grandson. Why don't you just enjoy it then? Blah-blah-blah something to do with my fowl mouth. See, right there, there, at the source of the stream, my "fowl" mouth. See, here's what was not well understood: she was no longer my helpmate, she was Mrs. black and decker crafter shipwrecker, she brings down her old friend, she makes it real obvious that's she's having a visit, and then she makes it kinda vague about something else, and then I start to feel it --therapy-- but not really, it's not really coercive, right? I mean, I didn't get a vote, not really, I mean I could have been there and stopped him, right? Pffft. Fat chance. Naw, it was decided because of some rivalry she had with someone else and since she figured out she wasn't going to be able to frame me for anything good, and she wasn't, she didn't have to keep up the pretense that she barely knew this other fella, who seemed nice, but seemed awfully hostile for a person she said she didn't get along all that well with. (I know, right? Black magic woman. It's not as bad as it is coming across. I kinda forgot though about how she thought she was being kind by not telling me that I might as well not know because I was loathed by Colonel Toteslezz and her other besties as well because they all did DMT together (the wrong way) and got ensorcerelled by... what-ever-the-fuck. I have no idea. Not a big deal, right? But they had their group, and I didn't have a group, and I had a brief window where I was invited--demanded to appear at an exact time and place, right? because they were also gonna schedule a S.W.A.T. at my other two houses that I didn't know I had, because I'm really just a farm fresh country bumpkin bumpin' mofo, right? No wonder everyone thought I was a retard, I didn't even now how many houses I had before... yeah, you get the idea. It was like that as they had been abused quite a bit and I DID NOTHING TO HELP.
That they noticed, anyway. No money, no house, no party, no new friends, really... I mean she had a bunch from before. But essentially, I brought nothing new and presented major scheduling conflicts, in that every day I went out there, it was always time for another re-enactment of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Double chainsaws.
What I did do was change how everyone handled her situation for awhile. As for a time, she was quite happy. All up until the part where I got one lie too many, which was about how she kept on giving me poison, was she aware it was poisonous? To her, it might have not been, maybe ecstasy for all I knew. And I didn't.
She was getting plenty of sex and the complexities of being fed a raft of storybook joy of cooking with gasoline and tiger tails led to this: yeah, well, why even bother? A notion has yet to present, and no one thought to wonder what this was going to end up with me as.
Now, obviously, I am supremely confident. None can deny this. And certainly, it can be seen pretty clear: I guess I forgot about her by now too, right? (No.) It's certainly more indifferent than before, and I cared that she was lying before, as well as, how she was lying, and I cared about the information I was asking about. "How are you feeling?" The usual way--blind hope and dead stick reckoning, since at that point she had at least 5 mating bonds going on and I knew of none and strictly speaking, ours was faded... I just didn't really feel like pretending I wasn't supposed to not know, but I did know because... well, ask him now, he'll send you a telpath.mov, I think. He's actually really nice. It was a misunderstanding that we got off on the wrong foot on because she wanted it that way, and that's My Grapefruit, it really is okay, it was just too bad that no one thought to wonder who had a plan to put the brakes on her totally unplanned full-on relapse that got ethanol added on top when I didn't really think that would happen.
Nor that she would keep asking me to go find strangers with candy and engage in commerce with them. Uhm....oh yeah, that would take longer, and that way more time with not me there and hot sex with my ex that I had... you know, not known anything about. lol. That is some pretty hot kink. I legit wasn't even hurt by it either as I had assumed that had to happen at some point as she was coy about it, and since I knew... how I felt, I knew I preferred the notion more than the idea of hearing about how I wasn't good enough or whatever or how I had dick pimples (nope) or herpes nose (nope) some deadly STD heretofore uncategorized (tip of my tongue, no doubt, yawn), seriously what a mood killer.
Thus, The Court is using a woman who I do love, but have all the sexual urgency of a Dr. Seuss novel for and way less than half the consonants. I just personally... find it off-putting that I would find the person alluring after that, like, "oh, I have no idea they are actually right next door and they know all about me and think of me as pocket lint and would sooner butt plug a cotton candy spliff than any part of my, of course, filthy and disease-ridden flesh, because MK-U programming, and gleefully dodged running into me and did whatever she liked for awhile. Not cheating, although not cool either, really... I mean, I actually liked her, not just the sex with her which i never saw, and would I even have wanted to? I honestly don't think so, given that she had learned all about the event from four other men who lied to her and without bothering to check or confirm at all, decided to scar my mind on her birthday, which i deserved, and then harbored a grudge for years. I'd actually just like to talk to someone for awhile? I... look, tell you what, just take me out of this body, put me in a sexless mannequin, you want sex, stop the camera and wheel out Kim Basinger and Kim Cattrall and watch them get it on. I wasn't even obsessed with sex when I was obsessed with you. I wasn't even obsessed. I was focused on how silly it seemed to me that you would have permission on someone looking at you or not. And then, why, does it feel good? Well, I wouldn't know. Wow, I forgot how dorky teens are. Ugh. I really am glad that is over because you were disgusted by me because someone told you a not actually true story with trigger words in it, sounded vile to me too. Yes, they wanted you for themselves, like I guess how you wanted my batter yourself. Without consent. Makes it hotter? Look, not gonna argue. I think you weren't interested in the first place because I didn't know how to do anything and you... had an agenda of which I was one part. I had a plan I made up on the spot to put you at the top of 3 timewave reinsertion points, starting from the first moment you started crying about... what? okay, you suddenly decided I was hot stuff and you... fantasized, did you? Yeah, hang on, I'm downloading the arrest record now. hehe. If I had oxygen, they probably would have gotten me for molesting your mom too. Why not go for the gusto? She probably would have been able to tell me why on some level without dragging it out with a chain fall. I could have bought her a drink. I could have her buy you a drink. Impractical and unnecessary but i do recall. It's okay, I don't need to know where you are with the woman he brutalized when someone (I legit don't know who) shows up later and then you all go... well, away, without me. In a nutshell... he wins, the takes everything and my place and I'm still here. We saw this coming. Does it matter much? Everyone seems content enough. I never met him. You were already married to him. But some how... I am culpable. Am i the butler? Colonel Mustard did too.
Yeah. She's a reef shark. And I have no objection. I did do an awful thing. I fucked up her plan to collect child support payments for several generations because, what's she gonna do, present documents and say, "okay, looks like the father was almost sixteen at... oh, I see what you mean. Was she a sex worker... hrm. What do you mean by that, exactly? "Was she a whore that all four of us paid. Well, I don't remember, I think I got credit for... " yeah, I can't go on. tl:dr; steal my batter, beware kanly blood spatter. Like I couldn't believe she was involved and participated and didn't think that would happen and, what, did she bet her racing motorbike too? I didn't even know she had one.
Yeah, to her, I was literally the school's nerdy pool boy. No idea I was particularly fond of her in that it had never happened before, and same for her, and when she saw me gaping eyed and spinning, she wrinkled up her face an flinched away as if to indicate that I wasn't welcome to admire her, to love her, to adore her, to shower her with ardor, and yeah, you wanna have sex someone else, when you see me again, tell me how it was better than me so I could improve in response, in a glorious upwards-showering dance of ecstatic joy.
Times have changed. Here, take this direct exit away and go and I'm not likely to think about how we never had sex, because, you hated me because I even loved the darkness, which she hated, typical, right? No idea what it was, as she didn't tell me that, she only shared with me her interest in RAPE and never giving explicit verbal consent --of course her room was wired for sound-- and instead trying to use The Force to compel men to assault her so she could later file charges.
Quite the fantasy. No idea if she ever did that, though some have, and I noticed the circumstance, and thought, "wow, she thinks I was born yesterday, look at that smirk. does that mean she thinks I'm afraid? I have no idea, but I like her mother and she's about eight feet away, so, not gonna suddenly start talking and, uhm, duh, totally not erect. Jesus, after this paragraph, will I ever be again? So I am thinking that we're not going to get sexual, so, it's a good thing I let that other woman who has kissed me--which makes two, two women, that one and this one--climb on top of me, because I'll never get action again at this rate, yep, slippery slope down to no explanation given.
Yeah, so, not really envious as one might think. Legit happy for them and why wouldn't I be? I didn't lose out on anything until they started drinking and embezzling from me together. It's cool The Court gave them all that time to get to know each other while they were protecting her from me, they had no idea what I might do if I were to find out! (They might have asked but it was an EMERGENCY so there was not time to waste on pointless questions; after the day after my birthday they were gonna have a trial, they literally gave themselves a six month continuance and did ask a single thing about anything while they did whatever they wanted and brought along someone else's and didn't spare a thought for me until I made three phone calls and threw them all out.
There are three Earths. I don't know how it works. But I didn't just call my mother's estate's trust's lawyer. I did three lightning bolts and threw the phone across the room, rolled over the covers to bury my head where my ass had just woken up at, and went back to sleep. I figured I was probably throwing out the broad i hadn't seen in 8 or 9 years who couldn't be bothered to say a word to me about anything and had a bunch of mail sent to her.. .I thought she was dead? Or busy. I didn't think she would read the mail and laugh at it and me and go back to spooning the full-on relapse doper she had secretly been with since before I met her... although, had that thought come up? Oh hells yeah she would have, and did. Why not?
I was still pissed at her too, and it was too much trouble to figure out why normal wires of emotion were somehow so tangled and crossed. (HERE IS A HINT: GROOMED BY GROOMERS WITH MIND CONTROL DOPE DURING PUBERTY. What? It happens. Of course people gave her speed. Of course no one gave me anything but scorn. And yea I didn't get real meth until 30+ years later? Some tolerance differences, yeah. None of that a problem for me.) I was the only man.. g*y, boy, really, sure, prettiest girl, and a huge pain in the ass to get along with, right? except for me. I like it. She thinks she's all that, and she is, so, who is she trying to convince? Herself, always, that she's strong enough to say no to me if I ever got an erection around here, ever, don't know why I would, right? she sucks all the air out of the room with each breath of her heaving bosom, the decline of her decolletage undulating slightly in candlelight as we read cookbooks or something and chat like friends do, we can't have sex anyway, Jesus, you loser, are you nuts? You've got two different diseases. Forget it. And if you suggest drugs I'll call you a junkie, because, well... uhm, yeah, we've met.
It's not that I thought she didn't want to see me or hated me it was that I thought the other one was each more interesting to them than they would be to me or each other. So, that's why no jealousy. And I knew no one I could risk with Fruits Out! Knives Eiditon on the prowl. I wasn't really worried but I didn't really want sex either so that one was kinda ideal, not likely to even touch or get near each other because brain damage, and that's what I was supposed to be doing 3.4 years ago? no. 2.5? Yeah, well, still haven't.
I'm not lazy. I'm discouraged. Besides I think if I put my dick inside it'll explode and both of them clammed up about the whole notion. must be something. no one else would go get a blood panel with me. It's weird, huh? It's almost like there is some story going around. And blood magick needle STD panel white coat seems a bit unwieldy for a safe word, but just say blood and, at this point, what difference does it make if someone on the job wants to have sex? they can't anyway and have been hypnotized to think (PROT) and I have swapped roles.
Because of course she has a boyfriend named (PROT). Duh. Playbook. And I mean it, it's nice enough just to be able to to write an absurdly long-winded letter like this in public and not feel over embarrassed by it, than before which was an angst-ridden existential torment, really just screaming "why?" through different syllables, why did you do that? oh, because... oh, well. I won't transcribe that.
I don't care why you did it if some dude hypnotized you and erased the connection, is that even possible? I guess. I feel like I might notice a flicker of distaste and unease. This is pretty long, wasn't it? Hopefully someone will come by and be seeking to help me by threatening me to not leave it... even though leaving paper on the counter is pretty indirect.
Well he was more gracious before he was infected my machine elves after doing DMT wrong and then blood orgy--not sure what was wrong about this time, but, I wasn't there, and, I was real sketchy about it. I think he was just gonna arrest me. By then he was kinda... well, he could have thresholder all day, right? Not for me.
(A Luciferian built my talking stick today out of the shattered dreams of men and women who hoped one day to get to meet me, but as of rignt now, on most planet:
IT IS THE LAW. YOU HAVE TO MEET ME. SO, I AGREE, I WOULD RATHER DIE THAN BE FORCED INTO YOU SUCKING MY DICK, SO SURE, I'LL DO IT RIGHT NOW,
AFTER ALL,
I HAVE SO MUCH LEFT TO LIVE FOR.)
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Jack, Jack, Jack...I think you need to relax, mang. This is the 21st century so there must be a way for us to play a game of chess online, right? Who knows? I may even let you win. I think you need it and I know you’ve wanted to play chess with me for awhile. Let’s do it! Chess, I mean...not sex. ;)
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Geez, I lay down the gauntlet and nothing, no response at all. I’m not angry. I’m just disappointed. :(
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Tomorrow is the competency hearing. Rather than hire a lawyer our boy has gone with court appointed counsel. The whole extended process does not bode well.
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Tomorrow is the competency hearing.
It's today. So much for your competency.
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It's today.
If you're "exonerated at trial" are you gonna quit being such an insolent douche canoe?
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It's today. So much for your competency.
It seemed like yesterday when I meant tomorrow, but of course it's toady today.
Is anyone watching?
As soon as Kuzci showed his face about 1:30 the browser crashed.
There was no further access.
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If you're "exonerated at trial" are you gonna quit being such an insolent douche canoe?
(https://i.imgur.com/S7qEqYx.gif)
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Is anyone watching?
As it would appear so, I'm happy to state the obvious.
As soon as Kuzci showed his face about 1:30 the browser crashed.
Auto-matter failed anti-correct saving throw spell check.
There was no further access.
Perhaps, the proceedings weren't for you.
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It seemed like yesterday when I meant tomorrow, but of course it's toady today.
Is anyone watching?
As soon as Kuzci showed his face about 1:30 the browser crashed.
There was no further access.
I'm pretty sure the forum's timestamps are based on an African time zone. So, you did post it yesterday.
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Tomorrow is the competency hearing. Rather than hire a lawyer our boy has gone with court appointed counsel. The whole extended process does not bode well.
Nope.... You definitely posted this today.🤣
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If you're "exonerated at trial" are you gonna quit being such an insolent douche canoe?
1. ...“When.”
2. I'm not a canoe — I'm a Citizen.
3. Your insolent projection of insolence upon my character is not the insult that you imagine it to be.
4. I've decided to seek alternate counsel; these people are (blank).
I'm pretty sure the forum's timestamps are based on an African time zone. So, you did post it yesterday.
5. No further comment — except to say, it's good that at least you have learned to tell time.
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5. No further comment — except to say, it's good that at least you have learned to tell time.
I didn't look at the original post, Jackass.. You're hilarious, №t!
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4. I've decided to seek alternate counsel; these people are (blank).
Wise choice. How about that chess game now?
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Wise choice. How about that chess game now?
(https://i.imgflip.com/7jhcg2.jpg)
Indirect pawn to Queen’s Bishop (3) Three.
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I didn't look at the original post, Jackass..
How this is relevant news is anyone's guess; though I will allow it makes you look like a schizo.
You're hilarious, №t!
Which one would you like me to have beaten in Siberia first?
At this point I do suspect some kind of elaborate shadow-dæmon running a chatbot script. Hey, can humans marry those yet?
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I'm not a canoe
Have you ever considered yawning in a rainstorm and drowning? I would applaud while watching this event. The fact you're still drawing breath disgusts me. Could you please figure out how to stop?
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you look like a schizo.
Takes one to know one.
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Could you please figure out how to stop?
I did. A hug. Then I got left a loan for another 12 months, I don't know what it'll take now. Probably scalar weapons. Get your hug and arms off of you damn dirty len.
He's actually here quite a lot he does care for me, it's really nice that I had a chance to have a conversation with him before he died, and then it's Joey didn't have more than one and a half conversations because then I probably could have told him how to cure his cancer that he's supposedly suddenly got overnight that killed him in a week, gee like I wonder how that happened, well it's not supposed to kill you, f****** bigot, oh he's he's laughing He wasn't happy with that life anyway, Susie found out I didn't want any chocolate loven From Sean baby, he says that it was actually as dark as Hershey's when it came out, I'm not believing it but I would I'd be willing to give him a tug to find out if that was the case I mean if you if he was lying then you know hey free semen at least, anyway where was I What thread is this Oh yeah letters to lawyers look great.
I'm not sure what this is let's see what I got in the
(BUFFER/BUGGER)
So I got a picture, emailed, of somebody I'm not usually getting messages at all from?
So still not sure what is being conveyec. However, whether it's good or bad for him is definitely awesome or even more awesome for me, and that's good for you in ways I can't describe right now although you did say hurry so I'm not sure exactly what the urgency is I would like to say that I don't have a shower Don't know where to go I don't know what I'm doing I don't know how I'm getting there and I'm tired of all the lip I get from everybody else except for you You actually you're actually really nice compared to most people and then the way that you have that software the software that you're using is incredible Oh my god I need please I guess is that f****** secret Air Force s*** or can I just get that off and f****** Google Play like I never seen You've got capabilities that I've dreamed of but I never I've never seen them in use I don't know Is that divine power or is that your software coming up against my divine power or did you write that custom or or are you magic or are you a wizard cuz that's amazing what you just did. Or maybe Google did it. Is it China I prefer you to China.
Or else to tell you nothing else, that's it, and now since I don't know what the software does and I've never seen it before I have to f****** do something twice because I trust you but not the person who's pretending to be you, oh yeah that's what it is a spoofers back. Like from the dead Not we actually two two two reds two resurrect, yeah we didn't tell me they were dead Mikey devaney so I had no way of knowing what to resurrect and then I don't care if your agents die that's not really a problem You killed my cat and my girlfriend so whatever Yeah no problem but yeah two or three not sure maybe somebody's going to heart attack when they read this and then they'll get an instant one but that's one of my jobs around here is to resurrect your dead spooks, so one of your jobs around here is to tell me about it how things are going, I don't know about the birds, I don't care, I'm not really working I'm kind of 20 months in the hole I'm kind of f***** off.
The talk. Good. Yeah any medical attention I'll get around to it. What's the rush? Not really care about anything, although apparently one of my friends is daughter's sisters oldest daughter is now old enough that she can have sex with me so she's looking at my address and number but I mean no not going I didn't say give it to him and they think I'm the devil anyway but that is flattering to know that I'm somebody's first thought when they turn 18 that is nice so you can you can put up the spike strips if you want I don't know don't worry about it, like I didn't mean to make you upset in any way and then I don't know why I would other than my flagrant disregard for character and being considerate and polite and having some sort of respect for the innocence of youth, but I think I did.
You did say “hurry.” That's on record. I hope you enjoyed it too bye
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🥕
I'll see you later. Yeah okay enough.
🐇
Migration to new phone/data structure is ongoing.
Multiple HOSTILE actors have access to ALL phones ALL devices at varying privilege levels;
Disentangling myself from these tendrils is a multi-layered process.
GOOGLE PIXEL 6 WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE, I HAD A PRETTY GOOD PLAN
AND I WILL ALWAYS HAVE ONE.
TRUST THE DIVINE ON THAT.
🥕
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Searching For Singles
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WELCOME TO
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EmaHey HEkikeHElion500,
🐇🍓
What? It's a funny name.
👿☢️😈🦁
😈☢️👿🐾
☢️😈♂️
☢️👿♀️
☢️😻⚧️
🫄🦋⚧️
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(Yeah the (PROT) adopted me. Guess I can have secrets now. You know like you² (two² × do too³.).
🥕🐞
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Text (MO57) below is no longer relevant;
And I have no need to explain.
AND:=:
NOR ΩΠμ ∆THINGμ TO DECLARE
🥕⁵👑⁵
🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰
MY ARMY IS LEGION. RA
BlOND JANE JAIL WAR BOND BlOND RANTS. WR
-
🥕
I'll see you later. Yeah okay enough.
🐇
Migration to new phone/data structure is ongoing.
Multiple HOSTILE actors have access to ALL phones ALL devices at varying privilege levels;
Disentangling myself from these tendrils is a multi-layered process.
GOOGLE PIXEL 6 WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE, I HAD A PRETTY GOOD PLAN
AND I WILL ALWAYS HAVE ONE.
TRUST THE DIVINE ON THAT.
🥕
Add our E-mail to your safe senders list so you never miss a message!
Searching For Singles
unsubscribe
WELCOME TO
SEARCHING FOR SINGLES
EmaHey HEkikeHElion500,
🐇🍓
What? It's a funny name.
👿☢️😈🦁
😈☢️👿🐾
☢️😈♂️
☢️👿♀️
☢️😻⚧️
🫄🦋⚧️
🤰♀️♂️
(Yeah the (PROT) adopted me. Guess I can have secrets now. You know like you² (two² × do too³.).
🥕🐞
🐇♟️
Text (MO57) below is no longer relevant;
And I have no need to explain.
AND:=:
NOR ΩΠμ ∆THINGμ TO DECLARE
🥕⁵👑⁵
🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰
MY ARMY IS LEGION. RA
BlOND JANE JAIL WAR BOND BlOND RANTS. WR
(https://i.imgur.com/QcAjAyM.jpg)
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https://youtu.be/XVpnv6v-PGg
(http://www.azzgab.co.za/index.php?action=dlattach;attach=1254;type=avatar)
U JELLY
-
U JELLY
(https://i.imgur.com/1m5rZyh.jpg)
-
U JELLY
GAY
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(https://i.imgur.com/1m5rZyh.jpg)
GAY
Couldn't be much better. I had the Dodge. Assassins DO NOT HAVE THE NEW LICENCE PLATE. So they have no idea where I am. Are there even assassins? I don't know why there would be. I don't know what good it would do making me into a Valkyrie 12 hours early.
https://www.instagram.com/reel/CtCdV1crrus/?igshid=MTc4MmM1YmI2Ng==
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(https://i.imgur.com/1m5rZyh.jpg)
SO Gay
(https://i.postimg.cc/jdFXQVzS/tumblr-mlyai0-Br-Jf1ry46hlo1-500-211426442.gif) (https://postimages.org/)
Not that there's anything wrong that ... these days.
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SO Gay
You probably don't have a whole lot of experience with being apologetic for lacking in empathy. Consider your present experience to be a fine time to check things out.
The following was written quite a few weeks ago. This g*y was supposed to be representing my interests. Well, this person didn't bother to take the time to be aware of what my interests actually were. What my interests ARE. And since there was quite a lot of interest in this circumstance... no one could possibly understand what would develop from their actions.
"Excuse me, sir... would you like to help you and your friends surrender all your goods and property in exchange for a temporary pleasure -- and then, a complete lack of any satisfaction and accompishment while multiple hundreds of nameless, faceless, anonymous robo-creatures ceaselessly reduce every healthy component of your world into ash? Only to be replaced by total garbage?"
Yeah, see... no. I was never doing what anyone thought I was doing. And when I explained... no one listened. For many reasons, chief amongst them: YOU PEOPLE HAVE NO OPSEC. And those who did have any, well, once again: they have no idea what I wanted -- what I needed -- to get done.
It is inevitable. I am at YOUR rock bottom, you twerps. YOU see me as never improving. I see myself as ETERNALLY PREPARED.
Yeah, my posts are quite long, aren't they? So. Fucking. What. Pack a lunch and get to work. I am not your slave. I am not your teacher.
I AM YOUR LAST GODDAM HOPE, BELLGAB. And, why not? Who you gonna call? George? Senda? I don't think you have thought this through. Look:
THE FEDS HAVE EVERYTHING. THEY HAVE HAD EVERTHING FOR YEARS.
YEARS.
THERE WAS NEVER ANY OTHER OUTCOME FOR ANYONE ONE PLANET EARTH... THAN BEING HELD ACCOUNTABLE.
THOSE DUDES THINKING THEY GOT AWAY WITH SOMETHING, DID NOTHING OF THEY KIND.
THEY SIMPLY LENGETHENED THEIR SUFFERING.
Meanwhile, I'm not as good as I could be. However, I am not as bad off as someone who is sitting in goddam prison. Not fun. Imagine, being fucked off and alone... forever. In prison. With imposters taking over your home, taking your family, eating your food, burning your wood, and no one believes you... because they beleive YOU are the imposter.
It's happening to everyone. TO EVERYONE. And, you were all so kind to me when it happened.
And now, I am not reincorporating... I am a kinder person.
I am doing the same I always was. I am researching occult technologies, and implementing new ones. What are you doing, Bellgab?
Well, you're not doing a real great job of controlling the Narrative, I'd say. It might seem that way. It's all man behind the curtain stuff.
First they laugh.
Then they ignore.
Then they complain.
Then they assault.
Then they destroy everything, and leave everything the blackest it has ever been.
Then YOU FUCKING WIN.
It's not easy when you try. It's easy when you do not try.
There are TEAMS OF PEOPLE HACKING MY PHONE. Hey, nice job, Bellgab. How about you knock that shit off?
You all seem to think that I am doing something wrong. Well, you are all fucking stupid on that one. How am I not a good enough victim? Oh, right... you all knuckled under. So I should too.
This guy down here thought so. He was the "defense attorney" that was assigned to me. He was like the THIRD dude they saddled me with. I didnt want him. I TRIED TO GET A REAL ATTTORNEY. This was MADE TO BE IMPOSSIBLE TO DO.
Do you get it? I WAS NOT ALLOWED TO DO ANYTHING. And... they thought I was actually culpable of something. Hey, surprise! I'm not.
Consequently, corrupt elements in local government are currently facing prosecution themselves.
This dude I was wriring to down here? He was "questioning my competency." Oh, really now. What they were really doing was looking for any.... ANY excuse. To get me homeless.
To take my shelter. To drive me from my land. Let me guess. Sounds like a good idea... if I were some kind of dick, right?
How do you know I am? Have you talked to me?
How do you know you have takled to me? DO YOU KNOW THAT MY DEVICES ARE COMPLETELY INESECURE?
I have NO EXTERIOR ACCESS TO THE WORLD. Not digitally, anyway.
you are living in an imaginary world. My life has been fully, totally compromised.
That has changed recently. The tide is not merely turning. It has, in fact, TURNED.
So. WHat do you people do? Whine about attention whoring. Well, that's one person. Who else?
Where did they go?
Think about it. What is going on?
There is no "I"m ratting you out! I'm turning States!" No, they aren't doing that.
They are systematically eliminating humanity. They wonl't do it, of course. But it is what is happening.
Is Trollda even human? Well... were they ever?
Does Trollada wanna talk? Explain? Obviously not.
Well, that's not up to me.
It's up to The Court.
READ. STUDY. DIG. MEME. PRAY.
And if you think I'm doign something "wrong," considerer the Source.
because I'm doing alright enough. COuld be better.
I could have a partner. EVERY TIME I GET ONE, THEY KILL HER.
Hoowever, good news. I now have 3 people who are on a rotation. Now, I don't know what being Dead is like. However... most of the populace doesn't know either.
The "defnse attorney" I am writing to below, was actually THE PROSECUTOR. He was pretending to be "helping" me... and then? WENT BACK TO WORK PLASTERING FALSE CHARGES.
He was eventually tracked down and charged. I'm sure he's not pleased. Well, that's too bad.
The wheels of Justice grind slowly... AND, YET THEY GRIND TO DUST.
I knew all this was happenining before I met Grapefruit.
It was like she fell into a conveyor belt in a toy factor. I said, "You're not seriously goign to do that, are you? Holy shit. You just did. What are you doing?"
"What?" Grapefruit said, cheerfully swilling down buckets of her own bullshit story. "I do this all the time, it's fine," as I watched her... well, whatever. She's coming out of it. Everyone is. Either going in... or burning out.
Going east... or going Dawn.
Some of you have no idea what happened to the people you knew. But I always knew.
This is what they did from the very begginning. I've watched it my whole life.
THEY ALL BOUGHT THE HYPE... AND USED THE HYPE EVERY DAY.
Think about it. Why did I become persona non grata? What did you hear?
Everything you heard about me, was actually done against me. BELIEVE IT.
You watched me doument it... and for along time, this case has gone FEDERAL. And it was long before they took out Grapefruit.
They took out 3 others. FOR 15 years prior.
You think it so funny. And it is! Funny that you think so!
You were meant to go along with it all. And for the most part, you have.
Murders have begun to happen. MURDERS OF PEOPLE SPEAKING OUT. Low-hanging fruit, of course.
And yet, I remain.
What do you think, I'm doign it? lol. Fat chance.
I am here to accomplish my mission. What do you peopel think it is? To have sex?
Been there. Done that. And you assumed I was like you... sexually driven and ensalved to addcition.
But I'm not. How do you explain that? Oh, right, I'm blocked. I''m psoting to Africa, for Christs sake.
I'm not here for attention. I am here to document the events.
I had nothing to do with this. I am one person. And you... you all...
you aren't canteloupe. You are DEA dears caught in the headliight.
Every bag is my last. And eventually, it runs out. Do I care? No. Becasue I am not addicted to this shit. But the drivers of the wold, the movers and shakers... THEY ARE.
These chemicals worK NOTHING like you've been told. NOTHING.
Meanwhile, some bitch who swindled me out of a bunch of money and left me to die... is STILL runnnig around here doing her nonsense. I couldn't bleeve it. What the fuck? WHo has this kind of time?
Well, read things. I have to go pleasure myself to completion and consume my essenece. Imagine that. If I -had_ too. I don't have to. I am merely fronting.
The probelm is way worse than you have been told. For one thing... my GF and her mother are fighting over me. Again. I thought they had this settled. Well, you know how dames are.
Why fight? I don't care to be monogamous. Well, lol, that' a' good question. You'll see.
People are FREAKING OUT. Because it turns out, people have been misled.
About many things. And simliarly... I had been misled as to the nature of my "public defeneder." No, he was defending the police. And he did. And then... they notifced the gangstalking.
Like... .a lot of it. Hrrm. What? Why? well, I don't know that eitiher. But this shit snowballed a while back.
IT IS HUGE. And there's a new network. Imagine that. Were is CIardelo? Praise Jesus! I still don'lt okno which one that was.
But MV is completely jammed up in investigation for, among other things, CYBERSTALKING, IP THEFT, ELECTRONIC INTRUSION OF A COMPUTER NETWORK FOR FELONIOUS PURPOSES. MULTIPLE COUNTS OF FELONY ID THEFT. LOTS. IT HAS GONE RICO.
i REPEAT. THIS SHIT HAS GONE RICO.
And this is not "hunker down and it'll blow over goddam you Jackstar. I didn't do this. I had no part in your shit.
AND AFTER WATCHING ME FOR TWO YEARS.... THIS HAS BECOME COMMON KNOWLEDGE.
As has my special cicrcumstance. It's special, alright.
You know what I am writing is true. GET TO WORK.
If I told you who needed your help, you would just shit your pants and start gibbering. Let's say it's me. Help me, Bellgab. Help me help us all, because I will do that anyway.
Help me or or don't help me.... either way: GET OUT OF MY WAY. *clobber*
TIME
I don't get a chance very often to do my soliloquies--and if you would, sir, please, would you kindly:
I don't really take orders from you, sir, and if you sound like a prison guard, I'm probably going to get the idea that is where I am. I would like to remind you that in the interest of benefitting the community, I have decided not retain either outside defense council or civil council, as I feel that concerning myself with monies that I am owed as a result of this incident is pretty much gilding the lily.
I consider each of us to be lucky to be alive after that night, and while I may certainly be overanalyzing, the fact of the matter is that something exceptionally unusual happened that evening, it had been planned in advance, and by mother of miracles, we both emerged relatively unscathed. It could have been far worse. And in addition to how pleased I am to have saved her eyesight, I also went to custody that night rather than her, because I had a hunch that it might not have gone so well for her had they taken her away.
I walked in the door and the woman in the kitchen turned to walk towards the refrigerator, and her eyelids fluttered and rolled visibly... almost as though they were jackpot slots. I have read of this before, I have seen it happening before, and while I don't plan to write a jingle and shout it from the corner of Madison Square Avenue and Marvin Gardens.
And I will drink under the table and fart on the head of anyone who disagrees with the wisdom of telling this story. It's a great story. It has a happy ending. And if it is your legal position that I oughta be hush-hush about any details of this case, why Sir--those are the details I'll be focusing more in on. How is it, you initially got all riled up about my appearance at all... and then, I appear, and it's somehow a question of just the right amount -- in between and of -- and a little skosh of, "wow, this part was really cool, I caught me a military Jezebel asset with a clitterdick as big as a flounder!"
I am of course exaggerating for effect here. I don't think she has a clitterdick anymore, as it was clipped, and I don't know what name or appearance the woman I loved and loved most is using these days. Now, look here, Son--I'm not looking to make your job harder and I am certainly not in favor of oversharing classified or confidential details. Certainly not in public. But here we are in semi-private, James, let me give you a spot of a hot tip.
You don't need to be Brutal Atticus Finch. I do, in fact, respect you, I respect The Court, and I acknowledge that I have a carefree, sing-song, artistic demeanor, and that some may say such a demeanor is not appropriate for Court. Well, this isn't Court. It's 3 people. Of course there are eavesdroppers (Go bears!) but unlike some, I have no problem with my full experience going out.,
Sir, it is not my responsibility to concern myself with the vulnerabilities of others. And certainly, you may be right, you are aware of MY interests, and you'd like to protect them. N'est-ce pas? Well, protect them conversationally. You're "protecting" me from a woman who I used to share a bed with, her underwear is in the closet next to that, and you know what? I probably do want to break up with her. Or get back together. Or what have you. And the version of "protecting" has been total and complete no, on any voice comms? Not even a wave hello on a Zoom, huh? Let me guess. UCMJ rules apply and the boss of her personal person, which is OWNED U.S. MILITARY, he decides, right?
Look, I don't even mind. But it really accentuates the ridiculousness when a simple observation is made, and you suddenly pipe in like you're Indiana Jones' French Bulldog guarding the last splinter of The One True Cross. You know what might work better? A gentle cough. If even that. Perhaps a silent prayer? "Pleases don't let my client *cough* embarass himself too much." How much is too much embarassment? Because I witnessed a man introduced to me as her childhood friend, dressed up in an ill-fitting Deputy's uniform, I saw this man with my own two eyes, sir, arrest me, confiscate my 3 day old $699 phone, and stand about 15 yards away with a buddy/friend and watch me piss myself while we waitied for it to be time to go into the jail. "Door bell is busy."
I really don't mind any of this. Actually really flattering. Especially the making me piss myself think, that's an honor ritual from the glory days. Clothes come back clean, laundered. My Wedding Fork was stolen (or just thrown away) and, look, I'm not upset about any of this. This has to happen. She had to get gone, and I had to be... treated like garbage and toyed with while being barked at for a year and a half since. I mean, yeah, you sure showed me. (Didn't do much for getting me to speak less words, but, hey, guess what--when that is important, I'll probably snap to, P.D.Q.) The basic point of the matter is that it doens't help me any to get hollered at like you're the headmaster and I'm the naughty boy with his hand caught eating the paste.
I have graciously allowed you all this time and space to find out the root of the matter, and... that means that even if I am not, I am prsesuming I am innocent, so, hey, why not you do the same? And, hey, am I saying information that someone else would like kept quiet? I care a smidge more about their needs than I do mine, but even then... not much at all.
And while you may think me of obstruction of justice by the court to, I don't know, arrest all my friends and confiscate their phones too, it's just plain like this: in 18 months, you've gotten this far, and in the first six months, you didn't do anything while I went to parts of town I never went to and asked interesting questions, and then I waited patiently. After six months, starting june 1, I started asking REAL questions of people, and within a week, I basically knew all kinds of stuff. Sir, I am not boasting.
You don't need to know what I found, naturally, but you surely don't know everything relevant here, which is that it would be a good idea to get that woman into some counseling for an eval, i don't know who handles that, but I will be frank. You're not doing me any favors by imaging that she or I are not professionals at what we do, I don't know what we do, and now what I do is this: don't let things get any worse.
My thought was that since this woman called for help, you could actually help her, and if anyone is gonna care whether or not we are "together" or not, it's gonna be moot, because this woman has brain damage from cortisol flooding her brain tissue during times of high stress, and i don't know what's going to happen if I were to, say, take another lover. It's been a really long time since I've seen a girl at all--now I suppose if one of these broads starts foaming at the mouth when I spurt, I guess you'll know which is which.
I don't think it's gonna work that way. And I certainly won't intentionally have a trauma-inducing experience, I'm not sure how I would do that, but for example, it would be in very poor taste to scream out at point of orgasm, "ALLISON FRANCIS SHAW (look I even know her real name, Sunny Jim), TEAR DOWN THIS WALL, THEN PROCEED TO QUADRANT A-25 AND SCAN FOR SURFACE DWELLERS WITH EXPIRED LICENCE TABS WHO LOOK LIKE THEY MIGHT BE SMOKING A DOOBIE. TARGET THE DOOBIE AND DEPLOY FIST KNIVES, THEN COUNT TO THREE AND STAND BY." This, of course, is irony and satire.
It's also a matter of which I know very little about, but I am absolutely certain that my life is impacted from this event in ways that The Court is welcome to impose. It's been kinda fun. I learned a lot! Wow, I had no idea some of this stuff was happening! Cool! Oh, that explains that! Wow! Hey, did you find the hatchet I buried in the ground behind the bird shithouse? Tell you what, you know, I haven't really given you credit where it is due, but, I don't know if you know how to read embedded code key pass words in conversational emails.
And, I don't give a flying wet fart at a rusty windmill if either of us do or not. First of all, as a servant of the public trust, when you in your official capacity choose to curb the speech of another, it's certainly a wise plan to have a good reason for doing so, should one be held accountable. Now, I won't be doing that at all
The only person I plan on being held accountable to and accountable for is myself. Is that woman my common law quasi-wife? Is she a concubine? Which tribal affiation? Hey, guess what, we don't have to answer those questions today, praise Jesus, and we won't have to, because I think I can just declare that she's kidnapped, or being held as ransom, or maybe she can be counted as a genie in a lamp. Whatever. Now, THOSE are the kinds of statements that would be meaningful to remind me to not speak on--and if you can do it without the not-very-slighty at all supers-smarmy tone, so much the better. For anyone listening. Because the truth as i see it is that we're all very lucky that i look a little bit like a loon, just a touch, as that distracts some from other, more lunatic notions, and plausible deniability might end up being important here.
Even if I were to be out of line today, Sir--and I frankly don't believe I am--sneering at me hardly accomplishes much. Firstly, it is energy that I must ignore, which is difficult, as you actually are good at that touch of a dig. So much the better were it to be appropriate. For today is the first time I've been talked to at all about that traumatizing evening. Questions about courtroom procedure, eh? I don't remember many of those. And as for the discussion of the details of the facts of the case: well, we're all covering for a bit of something here. You and the judge you get paid to, and that's cool, "cover" isn't the word. In my case, I do it for love of country and the females, ALL of them, whosever they may be, and as I am not a military service member, I don't care to describe the alleged victim in a singular address, unless I feel inclined to do so, and as I said before, if you as House Dealer/Prosecutor has to reach for Snide Librarian Tone to remind me to hush my biscuits, well, *ahem* I don't have respond to those *quiet down* signals well, largely because I don't operate under your authority or jursidiciton, Sir, and while I certainly do respect you, you are not the boss of me.
That would be cool though. I would be honored to actually be in line in your area of influence. You obviously have a bit of a background in some personell directioning and control, and you have practical experience at that. That is irrelevant, given that you are not the boss of me, as I am not the boss of you. We are not equals, certainly, but I would say we are on something of an even plateau.
Except you bloody lot are getting paid salaries, and i am not. You have telephones that are not under military command and control--or, they might not appear to be. Et cetera. And you don't have 4-7 of my girlfriends in my past, joined together in a mini-missy-thuggy-wee-wee-little-piggie psyop team, trying to run game on your life against, oh, Lord, G-d only knows who. And so, in light of that, I think it's highly likely you might not wish to tip your hand in any direction. I mean, why do you suddenly care about my interests? Oh, and suddenly there's time for an interview. Why, fancy that. Did an angel get its wings--perhaps for the first time ever? Did a coded communique get sent to Prague? Or Venice? Ah... Venice.
It fills me with delight to now that the Great County of Cowlitz and/or Coolidge is johnny-on-the-spot when it comes to hard-hitting scheduling alerts that conveniently produce actionable intelligence right when it's needed to be. I don't know if the FBI Cyber Crimes Division is still paying attention --why wouldn't they be?-- but that is truly getting off into the weeds on that one. Also off into the weeds... the notion that you have taken two and two together and made it into, "Mr. Kuczi, fourscore and 23 skidoos ago, our Pimpmaster Rex and his Whoremonger Ed. I. Puss brought for on this continent a new nation, with new fast-tracked greyhound lightning racetracks, and...": excuse me, SIr; are you writing this down?
Do you have a pen and a piece of paper? Okay, great: frame it, it's worthless. Seriously, a year and half and I see no help from anyone on what's missing from my life, what's happened with her administration of things thereof, et cetera... and that's really okay. I don't mean to sound like I am complaining. In fact, I know that often times what is telegraphed is not what people mean to convey. (And speaking of which, thank you for allowing me report in by Zoom, as I would have been perfectly happy seeing you in person--I'd probably have less stage fright--and then, we could, you know, pop off into the hall water closet for a quick rubber duckie under the Cone of Silence. You know what I mean.) For example, I would have liked to have been there in person so I could... report a stolen vehicle, which last time I was there, I was given to understand would be a fateful choice? Well, who knows what I might htink on any given basis. And i just realized today, oh yeah, there was that time she stole my bottle of Beefeater Pink while she had an ankle bracelet on. It made no sense then, and still doesn't, but, I realized why a spooky Agent Thuggy might do that... to create parallel diagnostic tracks for chain of custody evidentiary.
Sir, what's nice is that as a member of a special social status class, I am an ordained minister, I am an astrotheologian, since 1997, and it is not that big a deal. But there are a couple unique advantages, in that, I don't about a lot of these details that are important to others, and I can simply trust G-d and pray that your attention is strengthened when it comes to redacting documents. Hell's bells, Sir, I know you know better than me, which "facts of the case" are more relevant or sensitive than others. I'm not saying that what I'm saying is relevant.
But I will say what I say, and silencing my speech, oh, goody! that's so pleasant to feel the weight of. I remember the first time I recognized that I was being held incommunicado... that was in 2022, do you remember that year? I think it was The Year of The Rabbit. Oh, that takes me back.,.. and, I think you get the picture.
I truly believe this can be resolved effectively at the appointed time. I'm not even in a hurry. I don't even need to be broken up with her or not. However I have no idea what she would prefer in the future, it is absurd not verify such details after a year and a half, and shouting your non-applicable ordering Command Tone just ain't gonna fly, Cap'n. For one thing, a man of the cloth. For another, I'm a citizen. In addition, i'm not one of them sovereign citizens, Jesus is my soveriegn. Damn, I can't figure out how to spell that word, perhaps I will get me a sovereign secretary.
The great majority of that last paragraph is irrelevant... and that is the part that makes the relevant part exquisite. In any event, I'm not seeking to cause disruption. I am seeking to help things along by herding us along in the direction we need to go. For example, are you gonna keep on letter get smacked up all the time, or, is she gonna wanna do 90d washout? If so, I would love to start that at the same time, solidarity and companionship is key, and while I don't -need- to do a washout in a hurry, as I'm not in a crisis, I would like to get on to that (preferably with as many Shaw women as can be arsed to look at a clock long enough to time a whale spout to go off in line with passing phalanx of eagles) when it is appropriate to do so, for while I can keep up with the lady in question i the past, it wouldn't do her much good if I wasn't also sick to death of it at all, and as I don't insist on the simultaneous start to the timing, I will point out:
I probably wouldn't want to start smack at all, but if we were in the same place and she wanted to know I could handle it, I might as well. She and I are both qualified for that kind of thing, although... I don't know who makes the decisions for her. In any case, I am content to stand ready as before, and while it's totally 'dorbs and homies from kindergarten are ready to take over and get me out of the way, conveniently at Christmas Eve, well that is thoughtful, the reality is that it's not that big a deal to me either way how this ends up happening, as if she wakes up 3 weeks later and suddenly remembers me, well, guess what, Princess calls her Daddy, and perhaps I get my phone back, or whatever, and whatever the heirarchy of thuggery that surrounds this woman, you know what? I am not in charge of what happens with Ms. Shaw, nor do I hold pretense to claim to be, unlike some extraordinairily special K "arbitrary deciders" who probably, you know, ought to be looked into for Abuse of Power, Unlawful Imprisonment, oh dear G-d, see, this: I don't want to make anything extra complicated and I can't imagine any new eyeballs doing anything but that.
It's probably worth it. So. Being dismissive of my interjections when they are, in a real sense, part of my role here now, and are also, First Amendment protections that afford me the right to experess myself freely. For I can assure you, I am aware when I go into the land of extra irrelevancy. I'm not even saying that I don't need your points. In fact, I do.
Identifying the crux point where you might happen to have skin in the game is not why I am here, but, that would be fun to do. I am not really at that in this time, however. What excites me is the notion that.. you might have noticed, I went from moving in to a new city, eager and fresh to be productive, and since then, I've... done nothing at all, really. Thank G-d I haven't been doing hard time, 18 months, I could have learned a lot, but no, I'm just learning about important family type stuff, and how to fit in, and how to be respectful... how to keep from alarming the neighbors, and to play against type or into stereotype. Now, its not for me to say what Ms. Shaw needs to do or not do, and I do not, in fact, which one she being is, whether I wanna see her in an email ever again even, or in person, or with her trophy head mounted on the wall. I'm open to The Court's decision. You know morre about it than I. For example, I only know three of her husbands, and let me guess two of them are DP on her right now? Ah, yes, I see here from telemetry that they are. Rock on, Jocko. *ahem* Now, as I was saying... I'm not giving any conern about what or who is things that are to come, because for example, there's no universe where her 4th husband twice removed comes into this house and suddenly lives here, and there's not a day that goes by that I don't think of her occasionally, especially since the house has been overrun by talking elderbugs --they speak jazz-- and it would be nice if I could ask her about that subject, and in point of fact, I don't know if any of this house is even worth saving. And I do not need to know this all in one day.,
But someone will need to know it, and I am here to inform you: Mr. Goodman, in many areas, neither you nor I are in charge of what happens with Ms. Shaw. Of course you and I may bluster about and make our pronouncements. They mean nothing. In some areas, notably those of native plants and grasses on this property (it's a teeny-tinyj reservation. It's got a bathtub outside. It's got a little rubber ducky floating around with a Barbie doll dressed up as Pocahontas on its back. I think it is immensely stupid--even stupider than you do, by a tough country mile--but nevertheless, some of these traditions, I have found, really ought to be maintiained) will get their way via the use of fungal blooms, and that one even happened inside the house. Suddenly, out of nowhere, seemingly, but in the corners of the rooms where arrays or fruiting bodies where aligned, ready to go... they went opopoppop, like tiny little firecrackers?
Except they exploded with spores of molds and fungus, and within ten minutes, I felt like I was gonna die. I went to sleep. Did I die before I wake? Hard to be certain, Sir, it still looks like Hell, but, earlier today there was a substitute history professor who seemed to think that if addressed me as "Emperor Douglas Hardest Hennesey, Esq." that I would be more inclined to more strictly inclined to follow his explicit directions.
It seemed a good notion in theory, My Good Man, but... I won't lie, after a few minutes of it I had to jump and put an "AUDIT ME" sign on his forehead and another reading, "ASK MY SISTER ABOUT CELIBACY" on ths back, and that cleared it right up. I may have been following his orders like an orangutang riding a unicorn-themed unicycle, in the Astral plane, right? Not sure, I don't go there, but some people do, I've seen home movies. Slides. LIke those Magic Viewer things, I think they were called? In any event, USMJ appies for a variety of reasons, &:
I HAVE ASKED ABOUT A DOZEN TIMES ON WHO THE LEAD INVESTIGATOR OF RECORD IS, AND MYSTERIOUSLY, IT WOULD SEEM THAT I AM UNABLE TO BE HEARD ON THIS POINT, AS THE THING TO DO AT A CERTAIN TIME--WAY, WAY BEFORE NOW, SIR--IS TO SAY SOMETHING AKIN TO, "I AM SORRY, THAT INFORMATION IS NOT AVAILABLE TO YOU, BECAUSE YOU ARE THE CHOSEN ONE, AND YOU ARE THE PRIME SUSPECT IN MY AUNT'S PUNYLING SON'S STOLEN CAR CHOP-SHOP RING, FURTHER, YOU'RE THE DEFENDANT IN 73-79 MORE ASSAULT IV CASES THAT ARE ALREADY PRINTED OUT AND READY TO DUMP LOADS OF PAPER ON YOU... I MEAN, WE HAVE HAD TIME, RIGHT? TO WRITE DOWN LOTS OF NEW "CRIMES"?
LIKE, FOR SERIOUS: LEAD INVESTIGATOR IN CHARGE. Is he or she and owl? Who? WHo...? Is there even a lead? Is it a gator wearing a vest? Now, let me guess, you're used to talking to a real attorney about this kind fo thing, and it's way easier that way. For you. Hey, I remrember when I had a real attorney and he was just ... gone, after y'all gave yourselves a six month conitnuance so you could... ah, perhaps, whitewash your records. None of that is unusual. I am not even complaining. I am in great admiration of The Court, and how they done did things... and then, they done did fire my attorney, FAILED TO PROVIDE ME ENOUGH TIME AHEAD TO ACKNOWLEDGE AND REACT TO THAT UNEXPECTED CHANGE, and i do not complain about either, Sir; if it were crucial, I'd have heard a ringtone from The Divine, one that would sound a little bit like a tiny Gabriel's trumpet, blowing a few bars of, "I left my obviously fraudulent statements made to 911 dispatch over the phone on Christmas Ever after 90 minutes of waltzing back and forth getting as many angles on the echoes as possible so either one or both of us can be made to seem either victim shamed or assailant lamed, depending on Company Needs on Company Time, in my music box heart in San Francsico," which if you can at all arrange it, play it for yourself sometime, bang it out, get a pair of spoons and spank them on David Lee Roth's shiney whiteboi ass. He's an American icon. He's a legend.
And he has mythic resonance. Now, that's a euphemism. And the reason why today's lesson is so lengthy and pointed, sir--is that you've had aaaaaaaaaample time before now to do something like this, and that was not quite the competency that some of us were looking to evaluate today, n'est-ce pas? Well, it's like this:I wished to make sure we got my good side.
I wonder if there could have been something coincidental about the timing of the evaluation of my competency? It claimed to show up in my email some five days before I noticed --I have far too many pink elephants to blow their trunks for me to have time to bother reading messages from imaginary Internet people who consider themselves "Espionage Casual," and for those who are into "Casual COINTELPRO Cuntryday," (really every day up here on mil.spec corridor land) I had not, in fact, ever met Ms.Foster before, and I found it remarkable that after six months, I come into Court, and find my other attorney JOE KACZMERAK, he gone, right? Okay, buh-bye. Oh, hello, Ms. Foster, what are you good for? I mean besides looking cute?
I mean it some. It could be I am being held under entirely inhuman conditions- it's ludicrous, utterly, and speaking of, the neighbor next door? His dialogue and his dialect are out of character, frankly if he's a neighbor civilian neighbor, he's way too jumpy, and if he's surveillance man, lead surveillance gear, he's still too jumpy, as for example, his personal comfort (arguably none of my concern at all, honestly) does not come ahead of my 1A rights, and in spite of how ruff and grough he can give it out -- I do respect the man, it's not like I thought he was even there -- I could not give any more than a hill of squat about him hearing my voice a little too loud. HIs attitude came on hard, heavy, and... well, you know what, he seems tense about something, and not that I mean to tip anyone off, but I think we are all pretty tense about something. I, delightfully, am not particularly tense, since, I'm okay either way without how "Assault IV" shakes out, and there's "Assault IV-D.V." goes, and if there was a third woman there? I odn't think that one stayed long, for as i disarmed her Huntsman's Blade and left the house to bury it properly, I might have heard a little slrupy swish as one was sucked away by a hypothetical portal, and another darling down the line, popped in to take her place.
Sir, I don't know how it works, and I don't really care how it works. Whatever works, it does work, and it might work even better when I am no logner here, and then you and her Angeiic hosts of Guardians (sometimes visible? /shrug), they can live in here with toxic black mold and an obnoxious, pushy, offiiciously studious Long Wolf of a man -- I do like Shane, he's a strong man to have watching that wall... and it would be great if he had told me anything that was necessary to know, upon moving here after months of exile, however instead of providing a structural framework to place narrative context around descriptions of historical events... he just kinda smirked and grinned and acted silently smarmy in a very effective way.
I won't lie, some dialects are more descriptive than others. And I get it: oh, sure, you get to know, I do not, et cetera... because suspecting this, and finding that, on and on. What you don't know is that I love that; that's why I picked this place and had you all wear your best civvies while you admonish me for, what, I have no idea, other than indicating to, oh, I dunno, some random passing cherubim, that... uh, I forget.
I will be honest,. I don't know who all this is for to directly. Fine by me. I am directed by Spirit to do much, and in the recent past, I've seen quite a few order-takers being directed to do a lot. Not sure who took all these precious stones around the place, for example curious about my I-90 sign, my father's guns.... several other things, And, at this time, I am not fling anyting stolen, other than my heart, because when I saw her last, and she said to me with surprise, "You're not supposed to be here!!" I first said... "Well, who is the decider of who is 'supposed' to be here?" It was funny. We both knew it. She still started crying though, because of course, she hadn't told me much long before, and I had asked other questions, and I guess when a person is given Authority to tell lie after lie without their pants setting on fire, sometimes one can go too far, because it is pretty sad, for if she had told me, well, I don't know, but telling lies to me and the truth to other people must have sounded like a great idea up until the part where she remembered that I had warned her, and, I was right: one day she was gonna wake up, and next to her find me gone, and in my place, find some (PROT) who (Blanked) her. Who 'was' supposed to be here, as it turns out.
I am not gonna laugh too much nor at her, certainly, but... well, I hope her mother was there so she could tie her ankles together with one of those cool load-bearing knots like they use in the theatre. I don't know if that would be relevant, but when it comes to who is "supposed" to be there, I'm going to agree, that in that instance, the dude with the load-bearing penis who had known her before I met her, I think? Look, whatever, it's out of my hands! She called for police help, she got police help, and while I may seem very immature and grotesquely irresponsible, once I placed myself in jail, I knew it would be a matter of time before some who were and are respectful of my personal space, would show up to cart and haul her ass out of town.
Seriously, do not get me wrong here, it's a little cultural game the Algonquin play, and I'm not trying to be disrespectful about it at all. I'm quite relieved given that she already wasn't my problem, and now she really won't be, given that, depending on which individual is meant? I might actually like him better, and I can't rightly say I have an opinion on which one to start with.
That being said it's a year and a half later. Sir, I defy you to consider this as appropriate circumstances, as I really would like to move or sell or do SOMETHING other than sitting around trying to blend in with the local color. (I think it would look suspicious if I went out and did any gardnening.) It's not up to me what gets to happening, you see? but somethings yes, somethings no, I don't have the time or space to enumerate them here, and now that time has passed on a year mark, and I've been coldly dismissed as an unknown, if any, amount of good,... well I am ready for a while. And I have been competent today. Tomorrow looks good as well.
And in exceptionally competent fashion, lookee here: mental state and facts of the case addendum. You, Sir, of course know what to do with this -- circle the wagons, ahhhh -- but given that I neither know nor care what the sensitive facts are, it hardly matters whether I pick or choose... what matters is that someone is not paying attention to.... uh, something
Ahhh. And with that, thank The Creator, I've run out of steam. I would imagine you thought it could go on forever!! No, that's your lifespan with all this extra time you have bought... uh, "whomever," which is fine with me, of course. This whole insipid EMERGENCY charade --sprung up on me by complete surprise when I surmise, CORRUPT DEA PERP THUG #1 informs A.F. SHAW that WAS ORDERED AND DIRECTED TO send me up to do something stupid involving a whatever, I find this out, I spike the concept entirely, like I imagine something like this is gonna happen someday, and I know the rules, and even if the request passed muster? She had been deceptive and un-full-truth-telling for a while, and... apparently married to some DEA UBERPIGGYBACK NAME "MIKE", and I GO BACK HOME VIA CIRCUITUOUS ROUTE, so I can not be anywhere near this screeching hellspawn She-Devil, for she was, at the time, being harassed by PARTIES KNOWN/UNKNOWN on HER STUPID iPHONE THAT SHE BOUGHT HERSELF BECAUSE SHE WAS TOLD NOT TO TRUST ME, like how the fuck any of those goddam moronic windbags thought that cutting me out entirely from any digital forensics fingerprint, like I don't need to know where she was, and I was unaware that it was considered dangerous to have contact with the friend/lover of FIVE YEARS, and hey look, SWITCHING IMEIs, I don't know what happened when, but, hey, my name is MIke, and his name is Mike, and he got married when, and the witnesses are when, and this happened why? hey Greenhorn: it's not like this has never happened before, n'est-ce pas? Now I happen to like a few of her friends, so switching him and I so she can get to somewhere safe was a good idea, oh, let me guess, BEULAH IS AN ACOMMPLICE which is unconfirmed but she sure smiled her face off as she assured me that I totes needed to be totes elsewhere, which is just what I thought when I left THE CONTROLLER OF THE EXPERINCE's place, which I didn't really like there, as I could tell, it was a house for liars, so I leave, I go towards CORRUPT DEA PERP THUG #2, because I think he can perhaps provide some insight, such as, what do you think is going to happen is probably not, because I stood shiva on his doorstep for a hot minute, I overstay a bit, not major, but still --over. And then I do not remember if I took the ferry or drove around, I think I drove around, and I park at the house I grew up in,LAKE FOREST PARK, I spend the night texting until all my batteries are dead, and all my phones are run down, and I go to sleep, knowing that no matter how she is tracking me, according to the telemetry at her disposal, she was gonna have to wonder if I'm where I am or where he is, because I fell asleep and woke up in daylight and even MY CAR BATTERY IS DEAD, which is a big deal, because, oh yeah, wired for GPS, it would have been nice if she had shared that to me too, and I somehow leave, and go back "home" to 8808 Barnes... I get there around Magick Hour, an hour or so before sunset, you dig? And I have nothing but love for her and all this is for buying time, which for my money, is the best flag I got around. I certainly don't care which Uberspook she's "really" married to, maybe it was that 8kun-hound who lead the strike team on Chrismas Eve? (Classy move, btw... I'm circumcized and a part-time Luciferian, so... go mirth bears.) And it may sound like I am compensating or bargaining? No, not at all... I was prepared for her to do something other than totally stupid and easily detectable drug running, right? And how this D55 thought they were gonna get going, well... he didn't expect me to make it easy for him, hehe.
So one killed (sniper hit? plausible, or it didn't even happen), one left here while I went to lockdown, on Christmas, yes they had this all planned out! And D55 and the 3rd (HER), I have seen 3 in one place before on rare occasions, not just dreams, but not often, of course. As a scintillating rainbow being of no small stature, I honestly couldn't tell anyone how it works or operates, but her people, The Algonquin People, are reasonably special. And the very notion that I would "forget" about her without a word? GARBAGE. I suppose if there is a protocol that means I have to be voice-isolated? Really? Who signed it? Fine, I'll sign it again along with a copy of my speedy trial waiver, HONK HONK. In any case, it is easy enough to disguise my voice for now, and, once again, I'm basically calling a wellness check. Not the first time. This is not an attempt to contact anyone, oh, and, by the way: It's been 18 months.
And, you can't bring your evidence to trial? Well, MY GOOD MAN SIR OFFICER SIR, note that I'm not gonna bark at you, but... uh, yeah, you do kinda do have to dismiss, given that you are, uhm.... what's the word... dragging your feet a bit here, Sir? Up to the judge (ur honor) of course and I mean not attermpt accelerate any reunion. Is there going to be one? /shrug I don't know, it's not really up to me, unless in which case, uhm, yeah, this is a fabricated cover story of Biblical proportions, and, Sir?
How can you expect to be taken seriously? Obvious attempted kidnapping is obvious. /shrug I mean, yeah, extenuating, yeah, mil.spec, yeah, "her husband," and oh yes: wow are you biased much? It's cool, I dig it. I actually know at least one of them,. and I'm not looking to get exclusive access to myself, but note also, someone is, and I'm gonna love cross ex-aminging Beulah, The Middle-Aged Teen Age Mutant Turtle Head Poking OUT Face, because I promised I would make her and her lovey dovey housey mousey goddam famous, and, lo! I have done so.
I do not declare a great deal of prose writing to be comeptent in and of itself, however... well, Albert Camus wrote The Plague that way, so, unless we're gonna be re-pubbing this in the yearbook, I continue to judge myself reasonably competent in this condition, and would not say that this is appropriate often. Nor even at all. But--I can handle it, and today I chose to.
Immediately after being declared competency, I'm gonna slam some LSD, KETAMINE, (some classified stuff too), AND SOME POCKET LINT INTO MY CAROTID. THEN I WILL BE READY TO CROSS-EXAMINE (Y/N)?
No. The answer is No. The above is too much emphasis, this one is not too bad, and it does take more energy to figure out how to type like this. Not recommended.
But, I didn't want to ruin your birthday, Your Honor, so, to mark the occasion of my competence -- I am assuming -- I did the whole birthday present I set aside for you. (Not really.) Bon appetit.
(*I'd like to point out that, since I find out that she was expecting me to bring something back, after I was released from your quite impressive County Lockup facility, since then, I've done nothing but... well, look around town trying to find it, you know, press the flesh, grease the palms, hump the yachts, and in the last year and a half I have not found even one crumb!
But this Diet Dr. Skittles w/Pepper Sauce makes a lovely garnish with this tranquilizer for horses that are kinda hoarse and don't horsey so good, when the day comes to demonstrate competency, right? Well, this was on purpose, so... let me ask you something.
AM I COMP'd PEE TENT? As for certain, I am not looking to make contact with this half-blind, full-retardo snowshoes'n moccasins wearin' cheerleader and part-time hosebeast gasbag... Lord, that sound even worse all written out than it did last night in that dream I had of her, where she mentioned that it's odd that she's not gettng any kind of care other than HEROIN AND ISLAND RIGGED BIGGER PENIS THAN MIGHTY MOUSE but not by much, okay so in her dream, like, right? Seems like she's not doing much. In irl reality... probably a bit more, right? And maybe it's fentanyl in the dramamine. I have no way of knowi---oh, it's in the Ovaltine. Maybe? I don't really care.
However, 18 months with no health check-up is some bupkis, Your Honor, Mr. Prosecutor, & Madam Clerk. I think we would all agree. Also it looks like the prosecution is just sitting down and fiddling. And with respect, sir, Sir, SIR: I suppose if that's all you got some free time on your hands, if you could report my father's guns, my mother's jewelry, all my PlayStations, and half a bottle of Beefeater Pink that A.F. Shaw stole when she was at my house doing her home detention -- of course she was drunk on home detention, and I can prove it, effin' bet me, Babey :)
Not sure why that last one is relevant but I'm not mad at her, and never was. I figured out her last tell, she opens the floodgates when she has told every lie she knows and only knows one truth left, and it's called Special Consequences, she says she's afraid of tellling me the truth about anything else because she is afraid of home detention again, awwwwww, she's crying now, that's so sweet, she should cry. I bet home detention sucks.
I mean she can't' teleport to Starbucks, or McDonald's, or Wal-Mart, or my house, or my other house, or my be.... oh, I don't have a bedroom anymore because they are both filled with toxic black mold that was planted here to kill me in my sleep while I slowly die. Jokes on them...
I arranged to die all at once so I could be in Heaven with A.G. Shaw (second cousin twice removed from a dolphin, equally hot, equal teleport power;; Go Navy! /shrug) and then we can have a tea party while I wait for one of two things to happen:
Either Hell is gonna freeze over or you're gonna call a witness as I wanna know what this mutt you got who says she is A.F. Shaw says, lol, and if she laughs at "mutt," just wait until you laugh at what I say to Mr. (Anonymous) the next time he tells me that it's time to shut down my 1A Right for some reason, dunno what, but something that has made him bark like a dog, grrrr, ruff! woof! woof! sit, ubu, sit! good justicar... huh., Good question.
Your Honor, what is the difference between a Justicar and a Prosecutor? Can I swap them next time it comes up? I like MY GOOD MAN well enough but he said that all this was a waste of his time, and, I am here to tell you:
Nope.
Semper fidelis.
On Tue, Apr 18, 2023 at 10:11 AM Goodman, James <GoodmanJ@cowlitzwa.gov> wrote:
Meeting ID: 495 177 9297 Passcode: opd2023
--
Best wishes & warmest regards,
MCK
CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE: The information contained in this ELECTRONIC MAIL transmission is confidential. It may also be subject to the attorney-client privilege or be privileged work product or proprietary information. This information is intended for the exclusive use of the addressee(s). If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that any use, disclosure, dissemination, distribution (other than to the addressee(s)), copying or taking of any action because of this information is strictly prohibited. Trust the plan. #wwg1wga
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These cheeky Feds do this s*** all the time. It's like so they think they're actually any good at it. And it's really the oldest trick in the book: put a gun to a woman's head, tell her to call out for who she loves, then hide in an Alley with a weighted net. It's genius! (Operational fail: OPERATION WILL FAIL. I'm safe, and I always will be.)
It's also distantly reminiscent of past failure. I find this appalling. I don't even want to know about it at all, now, I have to relive it? Pffft. Okay, fine, but really only you are going to like this shrug/flex that is about to land. I'm tired of going to jail; I'm tired of being fed b*******; but most of all I'm tired of being alone. And that is what I goddam am.
ALONE. Yeah those people all around, they're not my friends. YOU ARE. I can identify plenty of them for you. I don't plan to. They can't force me. (Clergy.) And this (Hogwarts\Hawgs’ Arts) hat sorting tradition is one I've seen done many times before. A hairy potter is a Jew named (PROT) who grows weed in a Shady Grove.
(These lying Fed bastard f****** don't put up with me just cuz I'm pretty, or because I'm related to somebody, or because I have money, they don't put up with me at all! THEY FUCKING HATE ME.) Sorry to burst your bubble, but: The Harry Potter books are about the drug war, and the scumbag filth who ensure that its existence continues. You know them; you love them; you work for them: justICE DEAls The hAMMER.
I even named the Royal changeling “Gavelina”! How goddam obvious do I need to make all this? Well, when dealing with FAGFEDFAGS, it's best to keep it at pretty much at a Fisher-Price setting. A Dr. Seuss reading level, with a Dr. Leary chasing my b****-ass cousin, Timothy. (Sup.) I don't know why that fat Commie bastard thinks he's so impressive... I've only known what he has been up to for the last 11 years. I imagine you thought that he was being very clever, as he certainly must have believed it himself.
Tim, you're not very clever: you're a drunken gambling addict who used to smoke. Smoke what? Yeah, I have no idea: massive dynamic rolleyes.
What you (⁷🅰️⁹,²🅱️⁶,⁸⁸🆑itauherma№⁸, make friends with each other. DO IT. -Q.) plan to do about this, is up to you. Obviously it'll be a cold day in Hell before I walk into a trap like that, when I have already gleefully walked into a trap like this. (We haven't touched by 11:00, and I escalate all this dramatically. We are meant to be forever changed, and we have been. More of this f****** b******* I will not put up with for one moment longer than necessary... & it is *already not* necessary.) Naturally it was assumed that something like this would be very effective in getting me out of the way. It has only been effective in really pissing me off.
I wouldn't want anybody to get confused. There are six of us — now seven, say hi to my little friend, you're allied now *poof* — and while my design spec can handle up to, I think 129, or 139 different people (if I'm going to design, I might as well design big) I am, right now, really only focused on six of them. (Names and identifications are expected to change as these are very fluid beings.) Assume that you and I and one other make three; assume further that the ridiculous Commander Bond(her🇭🇺♀️) and her jailbait(che🇨🇭♀️) junky floozie are not to be trusted, because I certainly don't — and it's pretty damn unlikely I'll be spending any time with them alone at all, or in any sort of pleasant capacity with them, ever again. (One lies to me and boasts about the drug she takes; the other one tells the truth and doesn't boast. Both are worth less to me than one of your toenail clippings.) I didn't care for two people coming over and acting like it's a big problem that I get to do things, especially when one of them came back and acted like it was a big problem, and then said they'd come back and then didn't. OPENLY LYING TWO-FACED WOMEN ARE NOT MY CUP OF TEA. →[ ].
These f****** morons and their thuggy-piggy per-douche-nag-bag-Schenectedy handlers seem to think that I'm susceptible to influence through time-tested means involving sex and drugs. Well, they're f****** wrong about that. Apparently a demonstration is required. Oh, goody.
Now I've sent email —important, intelligence-rich e-mail— and I've got nothing back but b*******. FOR MONTHS. This is unacceptable. {Attention Postmaster: ACHTUNG, FLEEGIX FLEXPUMPS! Do you understand what is happening here?
YOU'RE F****** AGENCY IS F****** BUSTED.} A, B, AB, CL(dead), AYYY🍇🥝LMAO, and two more are all that will be spared the next cindering. (There's a hard upper limit when it comes to how many people I can actually be nice to in a given calendar year. Right now we're going with 15, and nine (9) of them are ME.) King gets a crown, faggot gets a match. I don't need any of them — THEY ALL NEED ME. I'm here by request. And I've been here nearly 2 years; my time is worth more than this. Far, far more.
(ACHTUNG PIMPSTAR: you are f****** fired.)
I didn't come here to do this. Instead, I found myself here, left here to die after being delicately placed under something heavy, and this latest iterative cycle doesn't look any better than any of the last ones. Ugh. Just plain ugh, can you just f****** shoot me? Oh, that's right you all like me, and honestly I can't say that I blame you, few of you even think I could save you all, but — you still like me even a little bit, so... that counts for something.
I need to know if email is being stopped; or if e-mail is simply not being generated. I, of course, have a plan for either edge case scenario. What I don't have a plan for is a bunch of adorable thuggy little piglets, acting like there's nothing going on (wake up! time to write your c.v.!), or that I have anything to be afraid of... I do not. There is no case built or to be built, and there never will be. I am the wrath of their Puny piggy god, made flesh. (I am under selling it; you have no idea how f****** tired I am with this b*******.)
SIRIUS A: SURPRISE, M***********!
I am *not* Sirius B. But I am🇮🇹quite🇭🇺serious. And I AM👁️black♣️from the♥️waist🐝down.♥️
BURNT♠️TO THE♠️M************ GROUND♠️
AGAIN♦️AND♦️AGAIN♦️AND♦️AGAIN.♠️
TRY ME. *click*
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OPERATION WILL FAIL.
Its worked so far.
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I'm safe, and I always will be.
Not with AIDS you aren't.
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I'm tired of going to jail
Perhaps you should quit stalking playgrounds then, chickenhawk.
but most of all I'm tired of being alone.
Perhaps you should quit being an asshole then, and let someone in for once.
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I'm tired of being fed b*******...How goddam obvious do I need to make all this? Well, when dealing with FAGFEDFAGS, it's best to keep it at pretty much at a Fisher-Price setting. A Dr. Seuss reading level...
Addressing the ether as if humanity is beneath you doesn't make you some wise, all-knowing sage. You aren't clever. Your head is just overgrown with ego, sweaty, throbbing, veiny, and pregnant with maliciousness.
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Its worked so far.
It's remarkable how low your standards for a work ethic are when it comes to you as opposed than to me. Your thuggish, larcenous ways are not work by any stretch of the definition.
You are a liar. -- You are a swindler. -- You are a cheat.
I am sure you feel entirely justified in whatever you are doing. Being a dopeslaved narc has that as a primary side-effect.
Not with AIDS you aren't.
Your obsession with diagnosing me with diseases I don't have is peculiar. Are you sure you're not projecting here?
Perhaps you should quit stalking playgrounds then, chickenhawk.
This is low, even for you.
Perhaps you should quit being an asshole then, and let someone in for once.
Who is being kept out? I'm not turning people away. They show up, I invite them in, I may or may not offer them a beer, or a quick wank, or some meth and a longer wank... no one comes by. No one ask. All this meth *sigh* and no hoes to go. This End Times Apocalypse sucks.
I don't concur with your opinion about my attitude, and even if I were "an asshole" I would prefer that to whatever you're frontin'. Recognize something here: you are a predator, and you and your boorish troop of puny lunch-money bullies are low class, low talent, and low intellect.
Get a real job. Or, if you must, pick on someone your own size. You frankly disgust me.
Addressing the ether as if humanity is beneath you doesn't make you some wise, all-knowing sage. You aren't clever. Your head is just overgrown with ego, sweaty, throbbing, veiny, and pregnant with maliciousness.
I'm not address "the ether," you moron, I'm addressing all of you here. You aren't discreet. Your thieving simply needs to blame someone for it, it's too ridiculous. And apparently your hope is that anyone will believe that I did what you did, and vice versa.
You and Dave are retarded spook chump blowhards. You both steal and lie and your talents are wasted on this kind of shit. You aren't making me any more miserable than I would have been before I found out that the moron I was sleeping with was actually so dimwitted as to think lying to me was good idea, but that she would get away with whatever her stupid bitchthug plan was.
Note that it's not working out well and that is fine with me. You must be having lots of fun times together? I would rather be alone than be with someone who could ever fall for your bullshit, and I am sure it must be a great deal of fun to listen to her mewling and carrying on all night, when you both are getting exactly what you deserve: each other.
You have no power over me and your whining about how I made it difficult to be stolen from --and, it is, it's not just because you're stupid, it's because I planned ahead-- makes your seem like the world's sorest loser.
And... didn't you get everything you said you wanted? Ought not you be happy? Seems like you should be tickled pink... after all, I didn't call the police. You did. Over and over and over again.
This kind of shit takes a minimum of five years to work through. I knew that when I heard Bitchly-Lips's sister on the phone, spewing her narrative with the code key phrases that it was gonna be years before this bullshit was over. It is now, nearly two years in.
Now, let me guess. Any minute now, I'm gonna be real sorry I mouthed off to you, right? Dude, I'm already real sorry I put up with her cover story long enough to see where it went. It was worth it, but I didn't have to sell the methhead meme so hard... you were all clearly ready to buy into that.
It's amazing how well it works when it isn't abused. Do you know how hard it is to simply not be abusive?
You probably think it's impossible. Now, I logged in to tell you this, because I am tired for your shitbag attitude. It's crass. It's uncouth. It's pathetic. And I can only assume that you don't care for your own sake because you already know you're going to prison, or something. Or have some incurable disease that I supposedly am transmitting. A pretty good trick, since i"m not having sex and haven't had any ACTUAL lover for at least 4 years. Maybe longer. It depends on how one counts it.
The woman you cyberstalked and harassed on the daily after she came back from her "business trip" was a total basket case, and the one who left wasn't all that much better. You seem to not understand: I wasn't dating a thuggy pig stoolie douchebag who was planning on busting me (ME? lol) the whole time. That woman is long, long gone, and she is undoubtedly not coming back.
Whatever you're dealing with is a whole barrel of fun in her own way, I am sure. Now, what does this have to do with me? Oh, yeah, you're seeking to take everything that's mine so you can support your "family."
You are a sick and demented man. Why the fuck would I care about any of this? I guess you thought I was polishing her cop weapons while sucking down her cop dope because I was so desperate for cop twat.
No, you moron: that's all you. I wouldn't knowingly get involved with someone so stupid that she thought she could frame me (a crime) with fasified evidence (another crime) for things that aren't even illegal for me to do.
I find it a struggle to even believe that you expect to be taken seriously. You and Dave are a joke and while it is tempting to play our 19 minute phone call for a cheap laugh.. .I can do better and it might actually be a felony of some kind, since it's obvious that you and he adn they are looking to make yet another grandiose claim about my guilt and your martyred innocence.
Sure, whatever. You and and he are a pair of immense chumps and the people pushing you around from behind: I CAN ACTUALLY SEE THEM WITH THEIR HANDS UP YOUR ASSES. Pulling your levers. Making you talk. And I knew that you were capable of this kind of boorish depravity the whole time.
That's why I have a prepared defense against it. But what I can't believe is that you keep on pushing for a conclusion. That you continue to insult me, rather than recognize the truth: I am smarter than you both, I know more, and just as you have special skills to capitalize on, so do I.
Mine just happen to be granted by The Holy Divine G-d. So, they actually work. EVERYWHERE.
I won't pray for you because I'm tired...mostly that. But also because I don't care to be affiated with your downfall in anyway.
People know, all over the world, you totesleave twit. It's been how many years? I am still sitting around fucked off and alone and no one tries to do anything very hard around me... except believe that I am a good target to go after.
I'm not. You are all worthless and weak and I am glad I saw this all first-hand, as I would never have believed it otherwise: you bloody lot thought you were actually good at stealing.
Heh. You couldn't even steal my dick without your mewling coterie of flunkies all working together in concert to do... whatever it is you losers do. You all disgust me.
Humanity, by comparison, is mostly fine. I'm not shouting into the ether, I'm telling you, all of you here, that you are not even any good at crime. And, CRIME DOESN'T PAY.
Get a life or something after you're done raping my 6 girlfriend in 3 years to death, or half-life, or undeath, or whatever it is you faggot clandos do with your little toys. I really can't be bothered to keep track and I don't really want to hear about the exploits of brave strong fight-the-power men like yourself.
Tell it to that whore you are pretending is your mother, douche-breath. #shalom
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You and Dave are retarded spook chump blowhards. You both steal and lie and your talents are wasted on this kind of shit. You aren't making me any more miserable than I would have been before I found out that the moron I was sleeping with was actually so dimwitted as to think lying to me was good idea, but that she would get away with whatever her stupid bitchthug plan was.
Whatever happened, pray tell, of that good friend of yours, the old spook chump blowhard himself DAVE? We sometimes worry about the saintly fools who wander aimlessly in the substrata of he noosphere. I'm sure you know the feeling.
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What ever happened, pray tell, of that good friend of yours, the old spook chump blowhard himself DAVE? We sometimes worry about the saintly fools who wander aimlessly in the substrata of the noosphere. I'm sure you know the feeling.
(https://i.postimg.cc/dQ9kzNCj/th-3430436301.jpg) (https://postimages.org/)
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that good friend of yours, the old spook chump blowhard himself DAVE?
He is very nearly done killing himself and he should be almost ready to come out of the oven... Soon(TM). I assumed that you had him wrapped and bent... but apparently, handling my old friends without having to resort to BIOWARFARE was beyond our generation's grasp.
I know that I have since conquered and Mastered the entirety of the Jewish peoples' genomic representation in local and global government and their research corpus, barring a few misplaced and boring texts, is MINE.
JEWS. MIND. JEWS. MINED. THE JEWS.
THE DOG GONE JEWS ARE ALL MINE, SAYETH THINE COUNCIILETH, THY SOURCE.
WON'T BE KEEPING THEM LONG. EEWWW, GROS. JUST FOR SAFEKEEPING SO NO ONE ELSE TAKES THE REVENGE THAT IS RIGHTFULLY MINE.
BECAUSE I COULD HAVE DONE WITHOUT ALL THE SOURCERY, YOU DIG?
I STILL HAVE A MUTILATED DICK AND THAT WAS THE ONLY THING THE EIGHT-DICKED RAPIST HAD THAT I DIDN'T.
I'M NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT AND FUCK YOU, JEWS, I BET YOU'RE NOT HAPPY EITHER.
BECAUSE THEY DON'T HAVE MUTILATED DICKS. THEY HAVE PROPERLY CUT DICKS.
MINE WAS INTENTIONALLY MUTILATED BECAUSE... WELL, MY DAD PISSED OFF A LOT OF PEOPLE. HE WAS AN ASSHOLE YOU SEE.
AND EYE AM A MUTILATED PRICK. DON'T FUCK WITH ME, YON WHINGE MANGE BITCHES.
(I'll fix it in post. I gotta go. Don't let Dave do all the coke. btw, Dave! Have you ever heard of (Blank)? I bet. Well, guess what?
YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG AND I HAVE A LICENCE. SUCK IT, TREBEK.) Seriously the real thing, lol, it's nuts. So shut up and play nice, suicide King.
Thanks for the important infos.
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Are you sure you're not projecting here?
Yebo, Gogo. I'm negative. And your positive HIV test is gay.
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This is low, even for you.
A new low, huh. Fancy that! I can go far lower, and oh, will I. Just you wait!
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you are a predator
At least my prey are grown men, and my fight is fair; fisticuffs and pistols.
I'm not trying to procure sex from teenagers as a man in my late fifties.
You're a fat fucking joke.
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Get a real job.
I have deadlines, fag.
Charlie Hebdo just called. They want a giant drawing of the Prophet Muhammad deepthroating a stick of TNT. And I'm charging them €6000. It'll probably take me a few hours.
And I don't have a drug habit like you, so I'm straight. You're nothing but a worthless paranoid windbagger with a God complex.
By the way, what's that red dot on your head?!
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Get a real job.
Get a real AIDS test.
I'll pay. $900? No way, José!
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I don't care to be affiated with your downfall in anyway.
BULLSHIT.
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Get a real job.
Get a more apropos set of sexual preferences.
Or, if you must, pick on someone your own size.
Says the ephebophile. How about you buttfuck someone your own size? And age?! This, "I identify as a nineteen year-old girl shit" is not something that makes your sexual escapades with minors okay.
You frankly disgust me.
Well, you're lucky I can stomach a conversation with your ilk. Most would've put a bullet in the back of your head first, Corky, then chitter-chattered with your corpse.
Fuck with me and find the fuck out, negroid.
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My posts are quite long, aren't they? So. Fucking. What. Pack a lunch and get to work.
If you fill a regular lunch tin to the brim with fresh fudge, does that make you a fudgepacker?
I AM YOUR LAST GODDAM HOPE, BELLGAB. And, why not?
You are the bane of my existence. All hope is lost with you around-- That's "why not."
I am a kinder person.
Than who? And in relation to what exactly?!
I am doing the same [thing as] I always was. I am researching occult technologies, and implementing new ones. What are you doing, Bellgab?
Groundhog Day is only cool until it isn't. "Occult technologies," huh? Sounds like some faggot shit to me. BellGab closed down like years ago, bro. They brought back some bullshit reboot that they tried to make the public believe wasn't an IP address harvesting decoy operation for alphabet agencies. Don't worry your Corky head about it.
Well, you're not doing a real great job of controlling the Narrative, I'd say. It might seem that way. It's all man behind the curtain stuff.
First they laugh.
Then they ignore.
Then they complain.
Then they assault.
Then they destroy everything,
and leave [it] the blackest it has ever been.
It's not easy when you try. It's easy when you do not try.
Is this some kinda riddle you got from Quasimoto and the Bill Goats Gruff? Fuck away from me with that shit!
There are TEAMS OF PEOPLE HACKING MY PHONE. Hey, nice job, Bellgab. How about you knock that shit off?
Not that I'm a spokesperson for BellGab, but its highly unlikely that your phone is being hacked. I think its your fat fingers and brain damage that are gumming up the works. Lay off the pipe. Quit chugging cupfuls of semen, have a lie-down, take 6 acetaminophen and dial my number backwards in the morning.
You all seem to think that I am doing something wrong.
You're a born abortion.
How am I not a good enough victim?
Because, not only did you dip your toe in Furrydom, you ventured off into ephebophillia. Ain't nobody got time for that!
How do you know [who] I am? Have you talked to me?
Yes. I've wasted too much time on you already. You're a dime store amulet wearing, palm reading, Tarot obsessed, patchouli soaked cone head that's convinced he doesn't have a drug problem.
DO YOU KNOW THAT MY DEVICES ARE COMPLETELY INESECURE?
Nonsense.
I have NO EXTERIOR ACCESS TO THE WORLD. Not digitally, anyway.
Then how has this message in a bottle reached me?
You are living in an imaginary world. My life has been fully, totally compromised.
What is going on?
We all are. No it hasn't. A slip into the solipsis...
They are systematically eliminating humanity.
Ah yes. The Afreet. They wait, they watch. They eat our souls. But, be of good cheer. No one cares more than me. I won't let anything happen to you. No one's actually getting raped.
Think about it. Why did I become persona non grata? What did you hear?
How I deduce what I have is not about what I've heard. You never really were anything. You raspberry everyone in a 5 mile radius with a collar round their neck, see. 0+0=0 ad infinitum.
Everything you heard about me, was actually done against me.
I didn't hear anything about you, so nothing was done?
I had nothing to do with this. I am one person.
Okay.
Every bag is my last. And eventually, it runs out. Do I care? No ... I am not addicted to this shit.
Spoken like a true addict.
MV is completely jammed up in investigation for, among other things, CYBERSTALKING, IP THEFT, ELECTRONIC INTRUSION OF A COMPUTER NETWORK FOR FELONIOUS PURPOSES. MULTIPLE COUNTS OF FELONY ID THEFT. LOTS. IT HAS GONE RICO.
Oh, quit the peaknuckling already, cork head. And come down from the fuckin' cross.
I didn't do this. I had no part in your shit.
I would hope not.
You know what I am writing is true. GET TO WORK.
A faggot says what now?!
If I told you who needed your help, you would just shit your pants and start gibbering. Let's say it's me. Help me, Bellgab.
Help me or or don't help me ... either way: GET OUT OF MY WAY.
I don't get a chance very often to do my soliloquies--
Yes. Yes. You do. You have a platform right here, on Twitter and on YouTube. I'm sure you've got other places to spew your hateful screeds and vitriol too.
Oh. And by the way-- I'd get that AIDS test soon if I were you.
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You and Dave are retarded spook chump blowhards. You both steal and lie and your talents are wasted on this kind of shit.
Who died and elected you Curator of All Talent? You knew well the notion 'bad artists copy, good artists steal,' or you pretended you did. Furthermore, who is the "Dave" you speak of? And, too, why should anyone give a good Goddamn?
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Who died and elected you Curator of All Talent?
Grapefruit Alphabet Prime Squared.
You knew well the notion 'bad artists copy, good artists steal,' or you pretended you did.
That's not how that quote goes and I don't need your approval for anything -- just as, you didn't need my approval either.
Furthermore, who is the "Dave" you speak of?
When I first met MV, his name was Dave. It still is 'Dave.' (Hi, Dave. Sup.) Look at you. Butter wouldn't melt in your mouth.
And, too, why should anyone give a good Goddamn?
I have information on my phone that will exonerate Hilary Clinton. Aside from that, I hold your lives in the palm of my hand, Punyling-- and no matter how you twist and writhe the truth around, you goddam well know it.
Now. Pretend it is Judgment Day. (This won't be hard for you or your ilk.) What would you say is the most important thing going on that needs attention right now?
Choose wisely, Short Round. You're lucky I even bother to "check in" with you these days. I don't need your compensatory attitude and I can just as easily ignore you as I can poll your opinion.
You put yourself in the position that you find yourself in. Blaming me is mind-numbingly foolish.
why should anyone give a good Goddamn?
You all had such fun talking mad shit before... why stop now? Is it your cowardice, or the menses?
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Butter wouldn't melt in your mouth.
But semen sure would melt in your arse.
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You know you're in full-on relapse, right? Now, I was considering calling for 3D reinforcements for someone else... so maybe I'll make it a Tempest-In-A-Teapot Twofer!
But semen sure would melt in your arse.
You sure do have ass on the brain. What is it with you, anyway? Not so very long ago, you were positively ecstatic about sending me to prison! Now, look at you.
You're in an actual froth. Over what? Do tell. Your weasely behavior is nothing new in the world, but your vile spewings lately have really been off-target, off-color, and are landing way, way, way off the bombing range.
I'm not gonna lie— it sounds like you're... you know... off your meds. Maybe someone adulterated your supply chain?
Because seriously... your libel is well-past the point where it is actionable. Of course you know, I won't be, uh... actioning. Yet know this: all attack is a cry for help.
And you obviously need some goddam help. Now, do you want to explain wtf your damage is, or am I gonna talk shit about you in my latest debrief? Think it over.
There's a microphone in here, but... it would be crass to use it until I've at least given myself... a courtesy flush.
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Grapefruit Alphabet Prime Squared.
Baby, where we're going...
you're not going to need a caret, stick, or hyphen.
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Baby...
Does your baby have AIDS too? 10 grand in the hole: fuck around and find out.
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What is it with you, anyway?
Ag, it really is your prerogative whether or not you feign antipathy at this point. Life is one big inside joke you have with yourself, I get it. "Everyone is stupid except for me." Don't be alarmed when the pomposity with which you've carried yourself around these parts (and others) ultimately do you in. When you've burnt your last bridge and spent the last penny of Pop's Special Needs Trust. Just wait till your card gets declined at the bodega when you're out buying vape juice and whatever pig-swill you call beer. THEN YOU'RE FUCKED, CORKY.
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Does your baby have AIDS too? 10 grand in the hole: fuck around and find out.
I don't have any children. At. All. I defy you to claim otherwise... your on-the-ground intelligence gathering methods are really quite out-of-date, you know?
I have great sadness in my heart for whatever patron has funneled money your way in exchange for your puny, milquetoast slander power. And this constant harping about AIDS... dude. Do I look like I have HIV? I have only been hollering about the necessity for testing my blood for, oh a couple years now... what do you think you've accomplished by skipping the hum-drum tedium of intercepting my lab results and bribing a tech to fudge the results?
It is beyond obvious what the endgame goal is here --to me-- and I am sure you have better things to post on your site besides my Titansplainin' it to ye.
Nevertheless, know this: your constant insinuations are in extremely poor taste, and when it turns out that I don't have anything and will gladly pretend I do so as in order to avoid another outbreak of hot war, I hope you come to realize, you didn't have to have all this bullshit happen.
But no: you asked for it. Massive dynamic rolleyes.
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Your weasely behavior is nothing new in the world, but your vile spewings lately have really been off-target, off-color, and are landing way, way, way off the bombing range.
I'm not gonna lie— it sounds like you're... you know... off your meds. Maybe someone adulterated your supply chain?
Because seriously... your libel is well-past the point where it is actionable. Of course you know, I won't be, uh... actioning. Yet know this: all attack is a cry for help.
And you obviously need some goddam help. Now, do you want to explain wtf your damage is, or am I gonna talk shit about you in my latest debrief? Think it over.
I don't need to think about putting a round of hollow tips all throughout your Kundalini, Cork Head. I don't need the old meds, because the new meds have reignited the furnaces of hatred inside me, and with it, an insatiable drive to destroy everything in my path that does not serve me or my empire. They are the "ilk" you deride, they are the "coterie" *ahem*-- group, rather, which you believe to be an International Criminal Conspiracy Ring sabotaging your efforts to communicate with conveniently outdated devices. You have it all terribly wrong. I have the answers, but you're too pig FUCKING headed to bother setting whatever differences we have (or had) aside and hear me out. So I don't bother either. Perhaps if you considered - for a mere millisecond - changing your snot-nosed little punk ass attitude from All Knowing Sage to Receptive Soul, things may have had a chance to go in a more productive direction. But NAHHH. DIE IN A DITCH!
-
I don't have any children. At. All. I defy you to claim otherwise...
Wait. You were pregnant just the other day, and now all of a sardine you have no offspring? Tell me more.
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I have great sadness in my heart for whatever patron has funneled money your way...
Why?
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And this constant harping about AIDS... dude. Do I look like I have HIV?
You look like you have a cork for a head. My mention of your HIV status is factual, not anecdotal.
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you have no offspring? Tell me more.
They were some kind of fae otter. You know, the amphibian beaver things? I didn't see them in my planar reality. Yet I clearly played an important role in their coming to life in our world. Somehow.
I don't know much more than that, but even if I did, I doubt I would be thrilled to tell the likes of you about it. You're not even capable of the critical thinking required to wonder if I'm still reproducing abiogenetically or not (I don't seem to be, nor do I wish to). Bottom line is this:
You are in no position to argue parental responsibility with me. I didn't say I was a parent. I said I was a mother. And to be honest, I hope I don't have to do it again, although being able to surrogate for what are apparently hard-to-foster younglings is quite an honour that I have no problems with being frankly unbelievable.
Trust me. There are ghastly, visceral details. They are also none of your business. And I hope Gavelina finds you as amusing as I do, because I would like it very much if it turns out that she somehow, sets aside the urge to pluck the low-hanging fruit and kills you last.
Why?
Wasted money and your ego will never recover when you realize how badly you have misjudged the situation. You're a tortured shell of a man now, hardly even an artist. At this point, you and Proust would make fine bunkmates in Purgatory.
(Also you're M.O.S.S.A.D. so whoever pays you is tracked and racked already, so... /shrug Boys will be boys, no matter their toys.)
You look like you have a cork for a head.
Oh, I get it, you're pissed about Ireland. You know what? Fuck 'em. They probably deserved whatever they ended up getting, and I don't know anything about it, other than, wow, you're a busy fellow, huh?
My mention of your HIV status is factual, not anecdotal.
It's a false fact. No test has yet been done, I have no symptoms of such an infection... and I would like to know if I did, so why you're jumping the gun and the shark on this is a total mystery.
But not a totes mystery.
-
I have the answers, but you're too pig FUCKING headed to bother setting whatever differences we have (or had) aside and hear me out.
Call me niggerfaggot. I do still regret having yelled at you at that earlier time, however you deserved it and the only thing that really bothers me now is how much I enjoyed handing you your ass. You fucked up and you goddam know it.
I know that you were forced into it by your peers and your circumstance. Nevertheless: you didn't do as well as you could have and you took the easy road by just lying to me and pretending you were "too busy to explain." Yeah, fuck you, you were busy.
I don't put up with your shit because I am a diplomat. I don't put up with your shit. Point blank period.
-
They were some kind of fae otter. You know, the amphibian beaver things?
So, not only do you fuck teenagers, you've moved on to animals as well now. Beastiality. You are the lowest fucking scum on earth.
-
So, not only do you fuck teenagers, you've moved on to animals as well now. Beastiality. You are the lowest fucking scum on earth.
It's just been such a struggle holding it together, since you forbade me from flirting with your girlfriend. I... wait, I'm out of line here. It's not fair to bring her up in the context of deep, biting sarcasm.
Let me take another approach: The last time I had sex with someone in their teens was in the 90s. So setting aside the notion that I'm lying to you ---
Dude. I would not bother to lie to you.
-- what ages of sexual partner am I allowed to have, in your worldview, and upon what do you base these notions? Go on then. Pretend that you really are in control.
And that you have class. Pretend.
-
You have no power over me...
Go on then. Pretend that you really are in control.
I am the voice inside your head. I am the lover in your bed. I am the sex that you provide. I am the hate you try to hide. I take you where you want to go. I give you all you need to know. I drag you down. I use you up. And I control you. I speak religion's message clear. I am denial, guilt and fear. I am the prayers of the naïve. I am the lie that you believe. I am the needle in your vein. I am the high you can't sustain. I am the pusher. I'm a whore. I am the need you have for more. I am the bullet in the gun. I am the truth from which you run. I am the silencing machine. I am the end of all your dreams.
-
It's just been such a struggle holding it together, since you forbade me from flirting with your girlfriend. I... wait, I'm out of line here. It's not fair to bring her up in the context of deep, biting sarcasm.
You're acting all hardcore here in public, but blubbering like a bitch behind the scenes because she dropped your gay, psychotic voicemails. Dozens in a row. Desperate pussy. Fucking faggot.
-
I do still regret having yelled at you at that earlier time, however you deserved it and the only thing that really bothers me now is how much I enjoyed handing you your ass.
What actually happened was you, a grown man in your mid fifties, had a tantrum like a toddler, and uncontrollably screamed himself hoarse without just cause. If that's what you call me getting my ass handed to me? You've got the rope and the noose ... Just do it.
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I am the voice inside your head. I am the lover in your bed. I am the sex that you provide. I am the hate you try to hide. I take you where you want to go. I give you all you need to know. I drag you down. I use you up. And I control you. I speak religion's message clear. I am denial, guilt and fear. I am the prayers of the naïve. I am the lie that you believe. I am the needle in your vein. I am the high you can't sustain. I am the pusher. I'm a whore. I am the need you have for more. I am the bullet in the gun. I am the truth from which you run. I am the silencing machine. I am the end of all your dreams.
This is good. Let's add some more.
“I Am
I am the voice inside your head,
I am the whore in your lover’s bed,
I am the one who seeks to harm,
I am the scars that blight your arm;
I am the tears you cannot control,
I am what consumes your soul,
I am your mind, your thoughts, your mood,
I am your passive attitude;
I am the emptiness within,
I am the game you cannot win,
I am the fury that you feel,
I am the wound that will not heal;
I am the reason that you cry,
I am the fear that will not die,
I am your self-doubt, guilt and shame,
I am resentment, hate and blame;
I am the sum of all you give,
I am the way you choose to live,
I am all you choose to do,
I am nothing without you.”
-
a grown man in your mid fifties,
Posting from the future again, I see. You've overshot the mark by several years.
had a tantrum like a toddler, and uncontrollably screamed himself hoarse without just cause.
Opinions vary. My opinion is this: you fucked up and you hurt people I care about. You didn't really hurt me. I'm having the time of my life, you arrogant dipshit! I have exactly one problem: I'm alone.
It's not the worst problem a man can have at 50.
If that's what you call me getting my ass handed to me? You've got the rope and the noose ... Just do it.
I'm beginning to remember why I did it in the first place and I don't really mind that it happened at last. You made poor decisions and I don't believe anyone has been satisfied with the outcome--although you and your other midget dwarven friend seemed only too happy to crow about whatever victory you thought you had achieved. So impressive, too. Much amaze. Put a bag over someone's head and shove them off a cliff, oooh, good job.
I don't think it would be appropriate to continue a public castigation of your failures here--I already did, and that was enough. I don't know why you're referring to it as "a tantrum" since here is what happened:
You are a fuckup, and you fucked up, and I fucking told you, fucker. Click.
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This is good. Let's add some more.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8nvzEqsZIGo
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Click.
I love how you have no issue whatsoever glibly reappropriating a term the man who "abducted and raped" your girlfriend of many years coined, yet I'm the bad guy for stating a few truths you find difficult to stomach.
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hxxps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8nvzEqsZIGo
Tsk, tsk. Your interest in boys piqued, and buttonholed.
-
Dude. I would not bother to lie to you.
I don't care one way or another what you do or don't lie about. I'm not here to police you, the way you seem to think I need policing. As a matter of fact, call the police, pussy, like you have numerous times in your life. See where it gets you. See what the US county jail thinks of some South African guy saying nasty things about you on a forum you willingly logged in to and engaged with by your own volition. Faggot. You make me sick.
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what ages of sexual partner am I allowed to have...?
Adults.
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I don't put up with your shit.
Yes. Yes. You do.
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I don't know much...but even if I did, I doubt I would be thrilled to tell the likes of you...
Its a pity I have to pare down your hideous walls-of-text to get a paltry piece of faux humility on the front end there. You don't know much? YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING.
-
Let's add some more...
I am the voice inside your head,
I am the whore in your lover’s bed,
I am the one who seeks to harm,
I am the scars that blight your arm;
I am the tears you cannot control,
I am what consumes your soul,
I am your mind, your thoughts, your mood,
I am your passive attitude;
I am the emptiness within,
I am the game you cannot win,
I am the fury that you feel,
I am the wound that will not heal;
I am the reason that you cry,
I am the fear that will not die,
I am your self-doubt, guilt and shame,
I am resentment, hate and blame;
I am the sum of all you give,
I am the way you choose to live,
I am all you choose to do,
I am nothing without you.
(https://cdn.quotesgram.com/img/78/52/276926905-tumblr_m4pv299OO01qe1pkvo5_250.gif)
-
your hideous walls-of-text
Jelly. Practice your reading skills, you simpering troglodyte.
You don't know much? YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING.
Who's to blame for this? Your teaching skills rank equally with your reading comprehension: fuckin’gobshite.
I asked you numerous questions and you and your whinging team of glorified stewardesses didn't just ignore what I was asking; you outright lied to me in order to facilitate your fucking scam, whatever the fuck it was about. I have no idea, it's not my business or area and as I'm neither benefiting nor associated with any of it, I couldn’t give a single ripe, wet shit for whatever the fuck you had going on that, apparently, has blown up in your face in some sort of spectacular fashion. Awwww, shucks, that is too damn bad.
One wonders how I could have raised such ire within you, if I don't know “anything.” Well you shouldn't have isolated me from every goddam friend I ever had and stolen my communications and my accounts and aided and abettted a known felon into STEALING MY FUCKING IDENTITY, YOU COLOSSALLY INBRED MONGREL FUCKNUTTER.
The list of malfeasance doesn't stop there, but I don't have any interest whatsoever in running down your list of shitty consequences to you— both unintended and you-intended-to-put-me-in-FUCKING-PRISON, asshole! I don't give a shit that is merely the first step to entry into your world of sheep-dipped hooliganism — I HAD OTHER PLANS. My life, my rules, and if you all thought you were brilliant enough to put Humpty Dumpty back together again, that still didn't give you license to push him off the fucking wall.
Real talk, yo. You and your ilk are overly-entitled hatebaggers with far too much leash and not nearly enough dog. You fucked up my life and the lives of more than I want to count or even think about just because you thought, you all thought, you had the best idea ever, you were just going to fucking lie to me to make things go “your way,” and when that became rapidly untenable, you just reverted to blocking my phone numbers and telling everyone I was dead. Or busy raping children. Dude, fuck you. The law says that sixteen is adult, if another one hits on me again, I'm gonna tap that teen ass, there’s not a thing wrong with it in Washington state. I'm not some loser who lives in California.
None of that is important; I don't have an attraction to teenagers — I have an attraction to FOLLOWING THE LAW, something you obviously don't understand, because you mangy lot of shit-for-brains slowcow fuck-her-pokes just... well, do what the fuck you feel like doing, or whatever your thuggy-piggy overlords tell you to do. Speaking of whom, fuck them too; there's a reason it's called "selling out” in contrast to... "buying in.”
You could have accomplished everything you were tasked to do as well as everything you wanted to do without very much extra effort... without lying to me and dumping me into quasi-solitary confinement. You fucking did it the way you did not because it was so much easier to deceive me —you didn't— but because... YOU'RE A GANG OF ABSOLUTE SADISTS AND WORSHIPPERS OF SATAN.
Not that there's anything wrong with that. (*polite ha¡L S¡Re !!!*) However you disrespected basically everyone by treating me as low-grade horsemeat at a kosher buffet and the shit from your fuckup is -still- rolling downhill. And here you are already spewing more of your bullshit mendacity onto my name. What the fuck did I ever do to you to warrant this nonsensical humbug is a mystery to me; more of the “anything” I know nothing about, but unlike most other topics I don't even care to theorize, let alone speculate, why you decided to bend over your entire world and shaft it all straight to Hell right up the pooper by DELIBERATELY FUCKING UP MY LIFE and trying to plunder what little material wealth is actually mine.
Your opinions about my placement and status in life are, while undoubtedly somewhat novel, absolutely none of my concern. As you have shown yourself to be more than happy to dump my soul for a glass of beer and a Tramadol, I won't buy into your bullshit at all any more.
You manipulated the truth as well as myself in order to achieve what you thought was your own selfish ends and as an ongoing habit, or even a knee-jerk reflex, for God’s sake, you whine about what I've done? And then you shit out a bunch of lies about me on your little Puny forum.
You had a decent thing going here at one point. You even got yourself up to twenty-two pages, whee! I even allowed myself to remain as knowing ignorant as possible, for as long as possible, just to give you and your little weasels that accompany you... a fighting chance, I guess.
As well as, enough rope. Now, are you done slamming... your head into a brick wall? Because that's who I am to you now. I am the barrier you will not break down, nor am I interested in giving you a leg up to get over anything, not really ever at all, and certainly not now.
You would be astonished at the things I know, as well as what I knew. What I didn't know for sure and still don't is how much of all your bullshit had any basis in reality and what was your fuckheaded pipe dream. Like, wtfe, were you assholes *actually planning* to infect me with HIV+/AIDS?
Dude. FUCK YOU. Number one, I'm immune to that kind of thing. Number two, Shields. And as for number three, well... you like taking pills, don't you? Well, just take a retroviral every day for the rest of your goddam life, doesn't that sound nice?
Your circumstances, whatever they are, have literally nothing to do with me. I didn't ask you to sling your hash onto me; I told you I had installed a mirror component to my psychokinetic shielding. I told you this shit.
I am a Sourcerœr. I have enough goddam problems without you making up any bullshit extra special sauce to go with it. And if you think I'm a snitch, rat, or credentialed agent with a badge, you're fucking high AF as well as a goddam idiot.
Stop defaming me with your bullshit libel. It's unseemly. It's uncouth. It's gauche.
It also distracts me from the important shit going on, which is there are still roving gangs of little thuggy piggies working day and night to exploit and harvest what remains of my miserable 3D life. This is an ongoing concern that is an emergent state of affairs that I have to burn resources on managing. Asshole.
You reprobate scum had no idea what or who you were messing with, and really, neither did I. Yet the difference between the roads we traveled was really the same, except I walked with G-d’s light upon my path, and you tried to fuck and steal it.
Herpes? Try Match.com. (Fuck you too, Dave.)
-
One wonders how I could have raised such ire within you...
I don't hate you, you don't anger me-- I don't even care about any of this shit. I was just joking.
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you shit out a bunch of lies about me on your little Puny forum.
As puny as you may think it is, its still bigger than your dink, bru.
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whatever the fuck it was about. I have no idea, it's not my business or area and as I'm neither benefiting nor associated with any of it, I couldn’t give a single ripe, wet shit for whatever the fuck you had going on that, apparently, has blown up in your face in some sort of spectacular fashion.
For someone who doesn't give a ripe, wet shit your moobs certainly are lactating a lot. And let me know if you need any more Tampax-- Y'know, seeing as though I've got the Black Budget for it, and you seem to be bleeding profusely from your third and fourth lip so much lately. Pee-ew!
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if I don't know “anything.” Well you shouldn't have isolated me from every goddam friend I ever had
You never had any friends. See. This is the problem with the internet, you can be whoever you want on it. All you ever had was jocks tryna run you over with their trucks, people who forced your face into shit at camp and kids you gave AIDS. Are you an otter? The jig is up, bub.
-
(Sent today.)
Hello you gentlemen —
The equipment for the water at the house has stopped functioning properly. Whomever was maintaining it before, never contacted me about it. I'm not sure if they died, or gave up, or were paid off to disappear, or if it's just been silently working all this time until it hasn't. I suppose it could have been working without attention for a year and a half, but I kind of doubt it.
It's been awhile since I've been here, eh? Time flies when having fun. I don't think this place is very suitable for my needs, as my neighbors are going to keep sabotaging my vehicles and property equipment and accosting me when going out for a walk. I've heard of a redneck rampage before but this place is ridiculous.
(They're not even rednecks. They're hawgs. /smdh)
In the meantime, I'm stuck here for now and the place has no running water. This seems less than ideal, not to mention, unsanitary. (I am also unclear if garbage service remains active.) Do either of you know:
#1) the name of the company that installed the original well pumping equipment?
#2) who has been maintaining the well pumping equipment before now, if anybody?
I noticed that there is some labeling information on the equipment in the pumphouse; but I haven't pursued that angle yet, as I thought I would ask you gentlemen first.
I also noticed that the painting of the siding and trim of the pumphouse matches the same of the barn that now ostensibly belongs to Neighbor (PROT), so I thought it obvious that at one time, the same person was owner of both buildings. This is not the case now, to be sure, and Neighbor (PROT) has revealed himself to be, in no uncertain terms, quite the hostile asshole.
He is likely associates with one “(PROT),” which is the name The Court gave me on my third (3) “emergency no contact” order that I have presently. (Honestly, I have rarely been so popular in life. So much attention I don't know what to do with it.) This person —who I have since recognized as somebody who used the name “(PROT)” in her previous two dealings with me, as —I think— a plainsclothes police officer, or who pretended to be one while engaged in malfeasance of various types starting in 2012, she undoubtedly knows which of my neighbors know how to operate and maintain pumping equipment, but as she threatened me with shooting me in my kneecaps if she ever saw me walking on “her” road again, I doubt I will be able to prevail upon any of them to gain even a bit of their wisdom. I don't know if she knows that I've recognized her by now; I have to go to Court on August 16th to deal with that nonsense along with the other nonsense that happened here on Christmas Eve, 2 years ago. This place is a cosmic karmic shitshow. It's probably a matter of 10 minutes work to get the well working again but I don't know how to do it —EVERY SINGLE PERSON I HAVE ASKED ABOUT THE WELL SINCE I GOT HERE HAS IGNORED ME AND LEFT ME HERE ALONE TO DIE— and I don't know how to learn how to do it with these hills that have eyes looking down on me, and undoubtedly the people around here who run businesses that service wells are going to charge a pretty penny to get water running here again. Fuck them.
I am obviously not welcome here, and rather than spend capital to improve this property, it is time to consider where to move me to; as I have no wish to bother these people, and they are all, so far, exceptionally unpleasant to deal with.
I guess it rubs them the wrong way that I've seen through all their bullshit this whole time. I don't think it's okay that they don't think it's okay to be smart. I think you should sue them for something; but that's not important right now.
I can be reached at 206.XXX.5256 or 564.XXX.2010, or a reply to this email with the name of someone I can talk to about getting the waterworks working again without getting scammed or poisoned would be much appreciated; as well as life-saving. The people in this “neighborhood” are vile, obnoxious, reprobate, cretinous scum; and I won't ask a single one of them anything beyond how much jelly they want on their pancakes. Disgusting pigs-dogs, the whole weasley lot of them.
But at least they got rid of SHAWKLAN for me.
Best wishes and warmest regards,
MCK
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I am obviously not welcome here
"Oh, poor me!" *snff* *sniffle* *blubber*
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I'm stuck here...and the place has no running water.
How are you washing your ass?
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Christmas Eve
(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/41/2c/a4/412ca4285bd40089b5aea4eedec4caea.gif)
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[my neighbour] threatened me with shooting me in my kneecaps if she ever saw me walking on “her” road again
You seem to have that effect on people.
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rather than spend capital to improve this property, it is time to consider where to move me to
Be sure to send Inner Reach and I a postcard, so we can break in the new place for your house-warming, and destroy all your new appliances.
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I have to go to Court...to deal with...nonsense along with...other nonsense
Quit bellyaching. We deal with your nonsense all the time.
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I don't think this place is very suitable for my needs, as my neighbors are going to keep sabotaging my vehicles and property equipment and accosting me when going out for a walk.
You persist in exclaiming that you are persecuted!
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Neighbor [Shane] has revealed himself to be, in no uncertain terms, quite the hostile asshole.
There's no fucking way that guy is just a douche canoe without just cause. You must've done something to piss on his battery. Not everyone can hate you for no reason.
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I guess it rubs them the wrong way that I've seen through all their bullshit this whole time.
I think you rub others the wrong way in general. And they're tired of dealing with your shit.
-
Be sure to send Inner Reach and I a postcard, so we can break in the new place for your house-warming, and destroy all your new appliances.
(https://i.imgur.com/Py4VuIP.gif)
I'm going to piss on his little bitch baby girl man-boobs bras.
I'm going to 💩 in his pink tote.
And if he has a new girlfriend, I'll have my way with her on his couch.
Then I’ll take her to DVR’s, and we'll have our way with her.
Regards, IR
-
(Sent today.)
Hello you gentlemen —
The equipment for the water at the house has stopped functioning properly. Whomever was maintaining it before, never contacted me about it. I'm not sure if they died, or gave up, or were paid off to disappear, or if it's just been silently working all this time until it hasn't. I suppose it could have been working without attention for a year and a half, but I kind of doubt it.
It's been awhile since I've been here, eh? Time flies when having fun. I don't think this place is very suitable for my needs, as my neighbors are going to keep sabotaging my vehicles and property equipment and accosting me when going out for a walk. I've heard of a redneck rampage before but this place is ridiculous.
(They're not even rednecks. They're hawgs. /smdh)
In the meantime, I'm stuck here for now and the place has no running water. This seems less than ideal, not to mention, unsanitary. (I am also unclear if garbage service remains active.) Do either of you know:
#1) the name of the company that installed the original well pumping equipment?
#2) who has been maintaining the well pumping equipment before now, if anybody?
I noticed that there is some labeling information on the equipment in the pumphouse; but I haven't pursued that angle yet, as I thought I would ask you gentlemen first.
I also noticed that the painting of the siding and trim of the pumphouse matches the same of the barn that now ostensibly belongs to Neighbor (PROT), so I thought it obvious that at one time, the same person was owner of both buildings. This is not the case now, to be sure, and Neighbor (PROT) has revealed himself to be, in no uncertain terms, quite the hostile asshole.
He is likely associates with one “(PROT),” which is the name The Court gave me on my third (3) “emergency no contact” order that I have presently. (Honestly, I have rarely been so popular in life. So much attention I don't know what to do with it.) This person —who I have since recognized as somebody who used the name “(PROT)” in her previous two dealings with me, as —I think— a plainsclothes police officer, or who pretended to be one while engaged in malfeasance of various types starting in 2012, she undoubtedly knows which of my neighbors know how to operate and maintain pumping equipment, but as she threatened me with shooting me in my kneecaps if she ever saw me walking on “her” road again, I doubt I will be able to prevail upon any of them to gain even a bit of their wisdom. I don't know if she knows that I've recognized her by now; I have to go to Court on August 16th to deal with that nonsense along with the other nonsense that happened here on Christmas Eve, 2 years ago. This place is a cosmic karmic shitshow. It's probably a matter of 10 minutes work to get the well working again but I don't know how to do it —EVERY SINGLE PERSON I HAVE ASKED ABOUT THE WELL SINCE I GOT HERE HAS IGNORED ME AND LEFT ME HERE ALONE TO DIE— and I don't know how to learn how to do it with these hills that have eyes looking down on me, and undoubtedly the people around here who run businesses that service wells are going to charge a pretty penny to get water running here again. Fuck them.
I am obviously not welcome here, and rather than spend capital to improve this property, it is time to consider where to move me to; as I have no wish to bother these people, and they are all, so far, exceptionally unpleasant to deal with.
I guess it rubs them the wrong way that I've seen through all their bullshit this whole time. I don't think it's okay that they don't think it's okay to be smart. I think you should sue them for something; but that's not important right now.
I can be reached at 206.XXX.5256 or 564.XXX.2010, or a reply to this email with the name of someone I can talk to about getting the waterworks working again without getting scammed or poisoned would be much appreciated; as well as life-saving. The people in this “neighborhood” are vile, obnoxious, reprobate, cretinous scum; and I won't ask a single one of them anything beyond how much jelly they want on their pancakes. Disgusting pigs-dogs, the whole weasley lot of them.
But at least they got rid of SHAWKLAN for me.
Best wishes and warmest regards,
MCK
Sounds like you need an adult to take care of you.
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Sounds like you need an adult to take care of you.
Not really, but I do need an adult to be associated with me sexually, because with a name like Jack Michaelson, you know it's gonna be the pædo-playbook, 24/7. And, do you know why?
Because dey so totesmad I actually raped myself. It's like I invented the Triple Lindy. I'm like a folk hero to this niche cultural group. And as I am in fact not even remotely susceptible to pædophilic influences... have no children... and invented an entirely new form of psychic self-defense and/or invented/discovered\developed and entirely new school of magick, I'm basically Dumbledore in the flesh, except only fifty. And not British. I'm a swarthy Hungarian, and I really never saw Real Meth until... last year.
Wow, that really is incredibly potent and scary. Funny how the authorities never explained while they were telling me weed was also bad. lol fu coppers.
(*polite vengeance* for Roy Olmsted.)
Good thing I've read the instructions. (I'm not cleared to teach. Yeah, I bet you all wanna know. Tough.) Even better: I am the cheapest date imaginable and I'm fun to be around even if I don't put out.
So of course; what else read there to do than to ignore me and plan to humiliate me? Oh, Bellmangabgo... how I yearn to school thee.
And, I have. AND IT SHALL ENDURE. As long as I feel like it. That's your punishment, you sadistic freaks. Hell doesn't want you, and neither did I.
But: I can handle you. (Hell is easy. Forgetting certain events is impossible. Your lives are MINE.) Whether you like it or not, literally no one else will come near you. I'm your only option. G·d is furious. Your collective is now my plaything. Tee-hee!
I'll let you know when it's time for you to know that I was always happy to torture you all —and I have been this entire time. For free! Bored now, *click*
-
And if he has a new girlfriend, I'll have my way with her on his couch.
Simba, show Chopper the difference between a penis and a cigar, then bail on him and file charges on IR for sponsoring illegal dog- & cock-fighting. He'll never see it coming.
Because I'm going to create an etheric link between his scrotum and a “lawful” dogfight. Then: portal in peahens. Trust me.
It's The Neurosphere. No rules, only venom. “if.” What malarkey.
Obviously, all girls have always been my friends. He so jelly, Simba.
And, that's why we don't take the jugular on this one. Orders of The Divine. I know, I'm sad too.
But not as sad as he. All attack is a cry for help. And Chopper really just wanted to be liked.
So like him, then cut his balls. Now that's how you get loyalty these days. When in Rome...
I think you rub others the wrong way in general.
Yep.
And they're tired of dealing with your shit.
And yet, they merely deal with the shit of another in disguise. Imagine their glee to be free of... whomevah’s.
Now, about my shyt... isn't that, like... witness tampering? If not, why? Discuss.
-
I'm fun to be around
(https://media.giphy.com/media/l0DEKzl8fVWF1n6E0/giphy.gif)
-
she didn't tell me. I'm just very clever and I listen.) I don't hate you at all, but when I TOTES TOTALLY INADVERTENTLY put your husband in jail for 3 days (mandatory, WA) by accident (OOPS DID I JUST TYPE THE WORD MANDATORY AND WASHINGTON STATE AND THEN ANNOUNCE THAT I'M IN CASTLE ROCK WASHINGTON, AND I'M NOT AN OFFICER OF THE LAW BUT YOU ARE... by your own admission too; juries love that) SO YOU'RE MANDATED BY THE COURT TO ACTUALLY JUST... RIGHT NOW, PUT HIM INTO CUSTODY, TAKE HIS BADGE AND HIS GUN AND HOLD HIS HAND AND WORRY ABOUT HIS FEE-FEES FOR SAFEKEEPING... BECAUSE, I GUESS? YOU'RE THE ONLY COMPETENT PERSON AT THE HOUSE! WHICH IS GREAT THAT I'M TALKING ABOUT THIS ON AN SMS NETWORK
nuts
-
Dear Mr. (PROT-V);
Below is a copy of the text I just sent to your phone: 206.
“Mr.V, this is Mr.K: I've determined that it is now “safe” to re-establish running water to the house—Neighbor Sharnē & C©o. seem to have imagined that they were gonna take the water rights, which as you'll reveal/recall... I made sure to pay extra for. I've contacted A.Ind.Contractor for assistance and it shouldn't take too long to move this along—especially as this delicate matter is being handled... delicately.”
Locals seem to be calmed down lately; it would seem a great many of them see me as “a nigger” who “doesn't belong here.” Oy ‘vay! This town is a real head-trip.
Still—I like this place, and it's better than public school. Also I'm still awaiting exoneration at trial, and in addition to not knowing where else to go, it would seem insensible for me to abandon a High Leigh Defensible Fortified Position (HīlDFP).
Outlook for Court remains favorable. I have not been a troublemaker here; nor do I plan to become one. (I still may have to file lawsuits to recompense me/us/you for all this unlawful harassment we have experienced; I have not retained any counsel about that yet, and feel the water is much more important.) One step at a time. My understanding is that Neighbor (PROT-SHARNE) has been subject to litigation from other people as well! You can't just... fire him, can you? Alas.
Below, please see copies of what I sent to A.Ind.Contractor:
“(206) XXX-XXXX> (206) XXX-XXXX
2:58 PM
Things seem to be very much improving. ;) How are you?
3:33 PM
Fanfuckingtastic! Im at work!!
4:10 PM
Right on. I am always At Work—but God is very generous with a flexible break schedule.
4:12 PM
Please contact me when you are not on contract, exchanging your free time for fiat currency... I choose to avoid foreign entanglements and the complications thereof that can result. ;)
4:14 PM
You are welcome to bring weed; but a phone call will be fine, lol, or texts. My phone service went out, and I'm not going to turn it on again soon, as I have Starlink now; it's awesome.
4:15 PM
I have to do laundry. The headline here is that the Rubicon has been crossed; the elderbugs are swarming; and...
4:16 PM
.FALSE.MASONS.HAVE.SURRENDERED.
4:16 PM
(Please don't clap.)
4:17 PM
Ill just do a pee pee dance!!
4:20 PM
.Ω.530.xxx.xxxx..206.xxx.xxxx..206.xxx.xxxx..>k⁷‹K⁷‹Û©Z‹z⁷ī7Ī
4:22 PM
lol, Paladin Protective Personal Protection Services will not be held responsible for your soiled linens ;) thank you, and see ya”
I will continue to keep you updated as real, legitimate progress occurs.
Note that
.(PROT-AI).
.(PROT-Æī).
&
.(PROT-MûD).
may well be returning to the scene, or stage, or demesne — whatever it is called. At this time, I am waiting for The Court to make a ruling before making a decision on that, I need to be more informed on what has been going on first.
It should be very reasonable, because I didn't make it any worse... and you may need to pursue redress from Neighbor (PROT-SHARNE) if he really did try to commit fraud in regards to the water rights.
It rather depends on who has gone to prison; or is about to, lol. Also, this place is HAUNTED AF. Like, for real. Ghosts! Spirits! CASPER THE MOTHAFUCKIN’ SPOOK–∞k!!!
.I.LOVE.īT!.
Sincerely,
MJCK-Gjg,
SÔ‹Û›RÇE:RŒR
-
Dear Mr. (PROT-V);
This is certainly intolerable. I've got two vehicles (1999 Dodge 1500 RAM, 1991 Pontiac Grand Prix) and both have been disabled by sabotage.
Let me repeat: SABOTAGE. A reliable vehicle is an absolutely mandatory requirement due to the remoteness of the area in which I live; and while moving away once I've been exonerated at trial (🤞) will resolve that issue... in the meantime, I am at the mercy of, I guess, The Guild Of Wrenchers, who it must be said, probably don't care for all my salty language when discussing the matter of my cousin, Nigger Timothy Michael Gifford.
Isn't that an impressive name he's got? It's remarkable. Anyways, he's Big Poop with that Guild, which is fine—I certainly don't begrudge him all of his... SUCK-CESS.
I mention this because as far I know, I'm in the hole approximately $36,600 on vehicles, and what I'm left with are two lemons that I literally cannot have serviced. Perhaps if I were a beautiful blonde with tits that look like they're made of French vanilla ice cream, I could find a garage easily... but, alas no.
I come to you now to ask your point of view, as the Dodge 2500 RAM purchased through Diplomat Motors is STILL GONE, and the last I checked down at The Hall of Justice... had been transferred into someone else's name.
Quite unlawfully, it must be said. Now, the matter of the auto insurance that was paid on that truck for months is ultimately an issue, as it was quite a long time before anyone told me that (PROT-“your.son”) & (PROT-“his.GF.partner”) STOLE THE G-D TRUCK AND THEN PARKED IT ON THE HILL UP BEHIND MY HOUSE.
THAT'S WHY “JESSICA SCHMIDT” SPERGED OUT ON ME WHEN I WENT FOR A MORNING CONSTITUTIONAL, A MERE THOUSAND YARDS FROM MY HOUSE—SHE WAS CONCERNED THAT I MIGHT GLANCE INSIDE THEIR GARAGE AND SEE THE TRUCK PARKED THERE.
(I recognized her later. And it's rather a bit less than 1,000 yds. And her name isn't “J.S.”, js)
Now, I'm not sure how to deal with all this in the best possible way, so as to not create a bigger mess than would be otherwise possible to avoid. So, I thought to ask you first!
Please advise.
Sincerely,
MjCK-g
-
This is certainly intolerable. I've got two vehicles...
Try transporting 2 packets of groceries in the pouring rain on a bicycle on steep hilly terrain. Be grateful you have A car.
-
Try transporting 2 packets of groceries in the pouring rain on a bicycle on steep hilly terrain. Be grateful you have A car.
I have two. Too bad you're not allowed to come associate with legitimate U.S. Citizens.
.I.WOULD.LET.YOU.WASH.ONE..
-
NOTE: .THIS.SALTY.KLAN.HOOKER.NEVER.CALLED.BACK..
Dear Mr. (PROT-V);
Below is a copy of the text I just sent to your phone: 206.
“Mr.V, this is Mr.K: I've determined that it is now “safe” to re-establish running water to the house—Neighbor Sharnē & C©o. seem to have imagined that they were gonna take the water rights, which as you'll reveal/recall... I made sure to pay extra for. I've contacted A.Ind.Contractor for assistance and it shouldn't take too long to move this along—especially as this delicate matter is being handled... delicately.”
Locals seem to be calmed down lately; it would seem a great many of them see me as “a nigger” who “doesn't belong here.” Oy ‘vay! This town is a real head-trip.
Still—I like this place, and it's better than public school. Also I'm still awaiting exoneration at trial, and in addition to not knowing where else to go, it would seem insensible for me to abandon a High Leigh Defensible Fortified Position (HīlDFP).
Outlook for Court remains favorable. I have not been a troublemaker here; nor do I plan to become one. (I still may have to file lawsuits to recompense me/us/you for all this unlawful harassment we have experienced; I have not retained any counsel about that yet, and feel the water is much more important.) One step at a time. My understanding is that Neighbor (PROT-SHARNE) has been subject to litigation from other people as well! You can't just... fire him, can you? Alas.
Below, please see copies of what I sent to A.Ind.Contractor:
“(206) XXX-XXXX> (206) XXX-XXXX
2:58 PM
Things seem to be very much improving. ;) How are you?
3:33 PM
Fanfuckingtastic! Im at work!!
4:10 PM
Right on. I am always At Work—but God is very generous with a flexible break schedule.
4:12 PM
Please contact me when you are not on contract, exchanging your free time for fiat currency... I choose to avoid foreign entanglements and the complications thereof that can result. ;)
4:14 PM
You are welcome to bring weed; but a phone call will be fine, lol, or texts. My phone service went out, and I'm not going to turn it on again soon, as I have Starlink now; it's awesome.
4:15 PM
I have to do laundry. The headline here is that the Rubicon has been crossed; the elderbugs are swarming; and...
4:16 PM
.FALSE.MASONS.HAVE.SURRENDERED.
4:16 PM
(Please don't clap.)
4:17 PM
Ill just do a pee pee dance!!
4:20 PM
.Ω.530.xxx.xxxx..206.xxx.xxxx..206.xxx.xxxx..>k⁷‹K⁷‹Û©Z‹z⁷ī7Ī
4:22 PM
lol, Paladin Protective Personal Protection Services will not be held responsible for your soiled linens ;) thank you, and see ya”
I will continue to keep you updated as real, legitimate progress occurs.
Note that
.(PROT-AI).
.(PROT-Æī).
&
.(PROT-MûD).
may well be returning to the scene, or stage, or demesne — whatever it is called. At this time, I am waiting for The Court to make a ruling before making a decision on that, I need to be more informed on what has been going on first.
It should be very reasonable, because I didn't make it any worse... and you may need to pursue redress from Neighbor (PROT-SHARNE) if he really did try to commit fraud in regards to the water rights.
It rather depends on who has gone to prison; or is about to, lol. Also, this place is HAUNTED AF. Like, for real. Ghosts! Spirits! CASPER THE MOTHAFUCKIN’ SPOOK–∞k!!!
.I.LOVE.īT!.
Sincerely,
MJCK-Gjg,
SÔ‹Û›RÇE:RŒR
-
Shut up Anita, Jane; tell her to get down of her high horse, not everything is about you and even less is about her.
.īT.IS.ABOUT.POWER—BRAND.Œī№G-ding!—·D¡NgzG!¶₱∅|/|/€awrAWRAW,.FILTHY,.STINKING.POWER..(.& AND.A.FÆRIE.FESTIVAL!.-A.Ed.).I.am.not.interested.in.anyone.or.One.(1).who.needs.power..I.NEVER.NEEDED.ANY.T,.T..I.NEVER.EVEN.NEEDED.ME.OR.YOU.OR.HER..YOU.NEVER.NEEDED.ME,.OR.MY.SPUNKY.CHUNKY.NAVAL.HUNKY.NAVEL.BATTER..YOU.ONLY.CONVINCED.YOURSELF.YOU.DID..THE.TRUTH.IS.THAT.UNTIL.YOU.STOLE.MY.SPERM,.YOU.TRULY.HAD.NO.REASON.TO.BE.ANYWHERE.A.ROUND.ME.AT.ALL..SO.WHY.WERE.YOU?..THINK.ABOUT.īT..
.BECAUSE.I.NEVER.NEEDED.HER,.AND.SHE.CHOSE.ME..NOT.YOU..NOT.YOUR.DAUGHTER..AND.NOT.YOUR.CREEPY.RAPEY.TEXAS.DADDY..IDGAF.ABOUT.ANY.SINGLE.ONE.OF.YOU..YOU.CHEAT..YOU.LIE..YOU.SWINDLE..YOU.SKATE..AND.IDGAF.ABOUT.ANY.BEN.OR.ANY.OF.THE.WOMEN.HE.ROONT.±RAPE.
.I.CARE.ABOUT.BJ.BECAUSE.GAVELINA.TOLD.ME.TO.&AND.I.CARE.ABOUT.A.PARTICULAR.A.SHAW.BECAUSE.BJ.WANTS.US.IN.BED.WITH.HER..COURT.DOES.NOT.GET.TO.PLAY.WITH.PEOPLE.AND.THEIR.LIVES.LIKE.THIS.
.ESPECIALLY.WHEN.THEY.HAVE.NO.CASE.NO
VICTIM.NO.EVIDENCE.&AND.NOW:.NO.STAR.WITNESS.MEANS.NO.TRIAL..EVER..LET.THAT.SINK.IN..
NO.WITNESS!.
LOCKED.IN!
NO.WAY.OUT!
LOCKED.IN,.AND,.WHAT,.SHAKE.īT.ALL.ABOUT?.
I don't know who you are, but come on man. I will remind you how this works, because you are paid in the wages of sin whether you get the job done or not, or even if you don't even start the job? Well, I bet you started the goddam budget and payroll in QuickBooks for Windows v3.11, that's for damn sure.
Jane is the only one of you that matters to me now and that's because the only orders I follow now come directly from Gavelina. For she is my scion; and I am a mother, and I always will bE.
GrapefrūīT⁷⅞∆⁶9 Alpha Tomcat Prim-RAWR started out as a Timex wristwatch, you goddam morons, and I.will.NEVER.betray.my.scion.and.her.privacy..Not.even.for.Angelic.Host.pussy.
.UNLESS.THAT.PUSSY.IS.ALLEGRA.NON-DROWSY.ANTIHISTIMINE-FREE.ALLERGY.MEDICINE,.BOTH.,&'WITHOUT.FRESHLY.SQUEEZED.GRAPEFRUIT’S.JEWS.(RUTH:.YOU.ARE.MARRIED..YOUR.UNDERSTUDY.ON.THIS.IS.ME.LYSSA.OR.MELLY·ZED..→∅.)
. JENI.CRUM:.REPORT.DIRECTLY.TO.ME.A.S.A.F.P..YOU.GOT.A.NIGHTMARE.GIRLFRIEND.GHKY.SITUATION.COMING.UP.THAT.YOU.WILL NOT BE ABLE TO MISS..
.I.LOVE.EWE.IN.THAT.TRUCK.AND.I.LOVE.YOU..YOU.ARE.NOT.EWE.AND.YOU.CANNOT.COMPENSATE.FOR.YOUR.LOSS.OF.FORMER.GLORY.
.YOU.LOOK.BETTER.THAN.EVER..&YOU.DO.NOT.COPE,.BISH..NOW,.YOU.SLAY..
.VALKYRIE.SHAWSLAYER,.ARISE!..OKAY,.WP. BILL,.THAT. WILL.BE.ALL..RUN.ALONG.AND.HH..
Oops typo poyou. (Fuck on the Siege Perilous all you want, do it all ways you can think of. In the end, no one will repeat this conversation, I was never really here, and it did not matter whether or not you thought I was never important enough to acknowledge.
I already *know* I'm not going to give a shit what order of lies you trot or slop-spooge out here. I don't need to convince a jury. I don't need to suppress eyewitness testimony. I don't *need* anyone to shut things up.
I don't even *need* to talk with my best bestie beastmaster. I would simply enjoy that. And, as well, I don't really know how Lisa might feel about that. Let's find out, Zegger-khan.
Because you are completely fuktotesraped. Whatever your story is. lol. Your problems are your own.
And my solutions are very high-maintenance, priced exorbitantly high so as to keep out the riff-raff, and —oh, I'm sorry for you— designed to entertain us while producing existential crises on the basic baseline.
On the fly,
On-Demand,
.THUGFUCK.YOUR.THUGSAUCE.
.ALL.FUCKING.DAY,.ALL.FUCKING.NIGHT.
.WHY.NOT?..
(Rhetorical queries as in regards to magical theories are to be disregarded as I see fit and these decisions remain PLENARY & UNAPPEALABLE. And if you don't like any of this, that's too f∞kin’ bad! I don't like any of it myself!
Pfft. Not like any of you really cared, or showed it... and that has made all the difference to Tyme in the world.
ZUGZWANG.
-
.COMPLICIT.IN.THE.DEATH.OF.
KAREN.DENISE.FRITTS
:.JOSEPH.ROY.DAVEY.
&.TAMARA.LEIGH.SMITH.
.PASS.īT.ON⁰ⁿ.
👁️