I pay her the big bucks.
When you are in prison, I'm going to take your money and pay your sister to fellate me. This will be filmed. It will be on OnlyFans. NOTE: I don't even wanna do this. Sounds kind of petty. Like, why does it matter so much to Judy that her brother lied to her about, well... I guess, like, a lot of stuff?
Like seriously, dude. "Why do you hate your dad?" Like I was gonna tell a goddam time-traveler that. I can tell you now, sure, but at the time... all I could think was, "Wow, they can teleport, but they can't figure out how to spot an ambush. These New Schwabenlanders are gonna be a piece of cake." And, they have been. It took a little longer than I would like, but...
Anyway. I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW AWESOME THIS IS. I cannot be too specific, because ways and means, but I will say this: none of you actually ever -met- the real Tammy.
You've been dealing with her manservant's vampyr simulacrum. The real Tammy, who I last saw at breakfast back in 2011-ISH, is, from your point of view... long dead. She looked scared at breakfast. I was scared too. It was the most obvious set-up I had ever seen... and she was way, way too late to try to get forgiveness out of me with sexual activity.
She had her chance to get close to my dick. And by that time, versions of her FROM THE FUTURE had already begun to show up in my life AFTER LITERALLY KILLING THEMSELVES AND REINCARNTING INTO NEW BODIES TO TRY AND GET TO MY BABY BATTER. Now, that's devotion, eh?
It's not about sex. IT WAS ABOUT POWER. For some reason, this one broad really, really, REALLY had to sire an illegitmate bastard with me, and could travel back and forth in time. I have no idea how. I have no idea what happened to the two (2) Actual_Children I allowed this crazed, insensitive, and extra-ordinairly privileged she-witch slingshotting herself back and forth through time and space and suicide and insurance fraud ended up getting off of me.
I remember it distinctly. It was a bit like when I woke up in surgery, when I was 16. I guess there's something special about my physiology, that these self-absorbed, lying egotistical narcissitic totes total moronic douchebags do not understand. It probably has something to do with the way my spermatozoa don't fertilize an ovum unless... they have My Permission.
One would expect my own descendent progeny to know better than to go against my specific wishes, right? I AM NOT TO BE TRIFLED WITH. And it was in 2021, November-ISH, that I was drugged, and raped, and my semen was taken by those two (2) renegade outlaw Timecorps agents.
One of them was (PROT-G), and the other was, I am logically forced to conclude, was the sister that I rarely, if ever, had seen, at all. I guess she was the High Coven Witch of this gang of seven (7) devastatingly beautiful abject retards.
She apparently thought I was a really disgusting person. This was because she had been hypnotized with drugs and her recollection had been changed, and she thought that I was someone I was not, and her real enemy was not I. Not by a long chalk. Instead, I am the man who arranged all this, just so that she can be locked in a big house, with her beautiful wife, and the rapist of them both.
Too bad I can't come within 500ft of the place without triggering Third Contact. Because, let me tell you: there is no greater sexual satisfaction, nor thirst for revenge, that could be greater than the knowledge that... this whole time, these fucking morons have been thinking that they were gonna get away with being held accountable to the crime of RAPE OF A MINOR CHILD. Because... it absolutely was rape.
I didn't want to be surrounded by older people, who had been discussing with each other without my knowledge of such things. I wasn't consulted. I wasn't asked. They just figured that I was their... property, I guess, and I suppose they thought that breeding me without my consent would have been easier than forcing a couple of panda bears to fuck in a Chinese zoo.
All they had to do was ask. I would have given them as many children as they were willing to pay for. Instead: they wanted to steal my semen, AND my money, AND THEN leave me alone, miserable and abandoned, fucked-off and never desired by anyone, ever again... without my ever being able to even be certain about it, let alone, prove it in a court of law after tracking them down and hauling their asses back into Justice.
They would have gotten away with it, too, except: HER MOTHER SENT ME THEIR PICTURES. One look and I knew: "holy shit, that's not her. or she's been turned vampyr." WTAF?
I pieced it together later. I can't explain all of it. Ways and means, ways and means. I'll just say this: I am totally happy with the three of them hanging out in that house together for as long as it takes for one of them to croak. Any two that are left after that, I can handle that too. And I have absolutely no sense of urgency about this.
And, neither does my best friend, who apparently has a much, much more driven desire for this revenge than I do. I guess some children really resent their parents for things. And I never would have known it unless I saw it for myself... holy shit, this chick really did want to have sex with me. ONCE.
Without paying, while getting pregnant, without anyone ever finding out about it. Well... two out of three ain't bad. But for my own part, I didn't even care about having sex. I wanted to find out... what the fuck is happening? Well, I have found out at this point, that's for sure.
Justice for KDF. Let me tell you, I am excited to tell the whole story, but I don't want to do it too soon, and I don't wish to embarrass anyone whose emotional response matters to me. Because then, it won't be plausibly deniable that I didn't use magick or hypnotic drugs to seduce the women I'm gonna have sex with in the future. And... there are quite a few of them.
They have gotten wind of my story, out their in the wild. PEOPLE KNOW. I am a sexual tyrannosaurus rex--and these two hellspawn hagbeasts have only wanted for one thing: to keep me all to themselves, and to keep me in the dark, and to make sure that I never, ever laid a hand on any of their daughters. Say whaaaaaaa?
Some kind of Kiwi supersition, I guess. I will have to look into that in the future, somehow. Maybe. If I'm not too busy having a good time with the families and their friends... of whomever it is that goes to prison. I'm not clear on that part of the story yet, since The Court hasn't made their decision(s) yet. And, IDGAF.
Grapefruit and her family have escaped injustice: they have fled off-planet and jamming them up will not be possible, and I found Tamara, solved her murder, brought her back to life, fucked her senseless, gave her a chance to spawn a child with me (failed; my spermatozoa obey my will), and I tracked down and captured her Primary Abuser, who she is currently locked into a death struggle with, in a house with an address number on it that matches the time of my birth listed on my official paperwork. Not that I need to proof any of this. I always remembered the time: 1416.
And I never told her that Tarazi55 was possibly not the most subtle indicator of duper's delight that I had ever seen, but it was certainly the most... ill-timed. Because once I figured out that I really, really was dealing with TIME-TRAVELING BABY-KNAPPERS... my foresight in high school was something I was really happy about making sure I kept intact.
Because I have had to hide my true feelings for other women for 36 years. I would never have noticed the woman in 1989... until I was directed by a teacher in class, to get up from my desk on the left side of the room, and go all the way over to the right side of the room, with the entire class watching... to sit next to her. Were it not for this chain of events, I would not have been QUITE this thorough in my investigation.
But, since I have, I now know everything I need to know, to feel perfectly wonderful about eveyrthing that has ever happened to me in life. Because I did love her, but I didn't need to have sex with her. It was SHE who became obsessed with ME.
Why? Well, I have a few more lingering questions. However I am prepared to set aside my investigation, because either her daughter or my son FROM THE GODDAM FUTURE has already traveled back in time, just to find out... well, what? What do they need to know? Or do they just want more free sperm? It's weird, I'm telling you.
However, nothing is ever gonna want to make me want to have a child to be born of my loins on this fucked-off planet. And now that I have the key critical data: I spooged inside two women, i was conscious for the event, first one got on top of me and took a load, then they made me get on top of someone else, and I gave her a load, and one of them I told my DNA "no, don't grow there," and the other, I told them, "okay, you might as well, I'm 48 years old, if this isn't a dream, might as well give her a baby, because I wanna fuck her a whole bunch more anyway."
I know, I know: this is confusing. It's hard for me to focus on what's important right now. I'm too busy holding my laughter in, because I KNEW this would all be worth it, as soon as I found out that HE WAS MARRIED TO A WOMAN WHO HE PRETENDED TO NEVER HAVE HEARD OF. Because it was so obvious that someone was being too coy. And after all this time?
Well, Tarazi55 had to come from somewhere, that's for sure, and it wasn't from the side of an apartment building in California, that's for goddam sure. And on our first "date" I asked her, okay, so... why did you pick that name? And... 55, huh? Oh, and 85% increased volume in breast tissue, and... the exact same pattern of freckles on the right boob. Huh.
It was at that point I knew FOR SURE--in 1995, for pity's sake--that somehow, the woman who seriously pissed me off in high school by assuming I was in love with the idea of having sex with her, somehow gets something like a lobotomy, and her tits inflated somehow, and some seriously convoluted planning has gone into this, you know?
Sure, I like having sex. But I will tell you this for goddam certain: I like making time-travelling rapists and baby factory recruiters suffer, a whole hell of a lot more. Because to be honest, I had no idea most of this shit was even possible. But, it turns out, it really is:
I'm so goddam good in bed that bitches be comin' back FROM THE FUTURE in order to get themselves a position on my staff. Damn. Maybe I should start working out, huh? I wouldn't mind doing that with someone loyal, but... I find that the overall physique being out of alignment with society's norms to be very much to my advantage.
If you goddam Punylings knew how attractive I could make myself become, I'd never have a moment's peace, ever again. It'd be a mob sniffing after me, every time I left the house. Which is about 7 times a year by choice, but that's not really the point. The point is: you can call me Mike, and I like to fuck, and my father really was quite an asshole, and the sins of the father have been visited upon The Sun.
I really wanted to fornicate with that woman I met in 1994, but, there was someone else pulling the strings, and whomever they were, they were not above drugs and hypnosis and time-travel and all manner of shit to achieve their goals. But there was one thing they absolutely could not do, and that was: just tell me the truth. Well, that's weird. How hard can that be? "I'm from New Zealand and I believe Austrians are white and Hungarians are black." Or something. I don't know. Someone would have to ask them.
In the meantime, I've had long-distance sex with two women who both feel like there is a chance they might be my daughter (eeeww, gross) and one of them wants to have sex with me IRL, and the other... doesn't. I don't know how this kind of rivalry comes about, but the good news is: the one that wants to fuck me, is NOT my daughter, and the one that is my daughter, does not want EITHER of us to fuck, AND doesn't want her daughter to fuck me, AND FURTHER: she demands that NO ONE BE ALLOWED TO FUCK ME, EVER AGAIN! EVAR!!!
Like... what? Who is this bitch, the Queen of The Raytheon-Amazon Corporation? Well, we tried things her way, and I'm okay with whatever The Court decides... because I have learned to become detached from any expectation of any outcomes.
For example: now that I know that One (1) Ms. Maid is your sister, Alistair, I am totally okay with you and she pretending to be having a fornicative relationship, or that you can't use Paypal, or that you aren't working hand in glove with Robert Casio, or... look, I'm not real sure about any of this right now. Here's what I know for sure:
I do not have HIV+/A.I.D.S. and it's not really fair for you to have QUITE this much influence over my life. Colonel Tom Parker you ain't, and obviously, I am not Elvis.
There is only one Elvis. And his name is Reggie Hammond. Y'all alright. Y'all be cool. Later. (I'm not going to go score any coke. I don't know what I am going to do. Heather Wade tried to call me earlier today, and while that was really, really cool... look, I know how magick works, okay? Shields.)
Now then. Azzerae! I am certain that we can come to terms, and arrange things that still have loose ends, in a fashion that will be wonderful, for me. You, I'm not so sure about. Obviously I won't get in the way of your career drawing your little cartoons. And I wasn't kidding before at all, nor aware of the irony: YOU should be the New Face of Coast to Coast. No question. Certainly not Daoouud (if he lives through the night), definitely not Heather Wade (I don't envision Little Miss Thunderpants as having all that much free fuckin' time in the future, to tell you the truth), probably not Ian Punnett (dude, you're a Doctor of Divinity, and you didn't wanna chime in, huh? Okay, no worries, I'll tell you where I stashed Jesus after tying him to a chair in a basement in an abandoned townhome), and, not a fuckin' chance in sweet baby Jesus roasting on a spit turning in Hell... not Steve Warner.
He wouldn't like the attention, that's for sure. Also: Michael Deacon and Michael Decon are about to have a serious problem with black & white duality the next time they try to re-enact the Abbey Road album cover while dodging a stampeding herd of quagga. I actually like the man, you know? That's why it's such great news to him that I have absolutely no reason to challenge him in the radio industry.
I never wanted to challenge anyone in the radio broadcasting industry. That's why I put a video on YouTube of myself, cooking a steak and shrieking "nigger!" at Nigger George Noory. I knew that I would never work in his town, ever, which at the time, was exactly what I wanted.
Because the REAL George Noory is not a nigger, not named George Noory, and is my true and good and noble friend, and in spite of how bad all this looks for me now... trust me, none of you would look as bad as George would... should the truth ever come out.
Because I know unique pieces of information. Not very valuable or useful information, certainly, but unique information nonetheless. And I don't mind if Operation Mockingbird gets fully exposed and the Middle East explodes into fully conflagrative open combat. What do I fuckin' care? I don't need crops from Afghanistan. I don't require petroleum products pumped out of the ground on the regular from the entire region. And, I don't need cengeance for Kayla Mueller.
Not anymore. Now, where were we? Oh yeah. T-MINUS TWELVE DAYS. That's my upcoming Court date that y'all are hoping for. My next court date is in 6 days, and I am gonna show up earlier and schmooze with Madam Clerk. Becuase it's a sensitive matter, one that needs to be handled with no small amount of delicacy, and thus far, the only goddam person ON THE PLANET with ANY sensitivity AT ALL... appears to be only me!
I don't need my father's firearms. I don't need anything at all. My questions are answered. My health is sound. My mind is clear. I am not a degenerate sex- and drug-addict. But... about a baker's dozen of my former lovers are, and I don't have to have sex with any of them at all in order to be happy. Because spending all their time and energy trying to murder me while being in denial aboout having ever found a man who is worth a shit in comparison to myself has had a number of unique, *superb* advantages.
For one thing: Best bestie got her wish, and I am not biologically related to her. This will make it very possible to feel no guilt, or remorse, or pity, or regret, or anything at all, really, except complete and totes-total orgisastic ecstacy... once I am exonerated at trial and her abusers are in prison, and we can finally, at last: lock the doors, slam the windows, shoot up SCIENTIFICALLY-DERIVED CHEMICAL COMPOUNDS, OBTAINED IN LAWFUL FASHION, and fuck our brians out until we collapse into our arms in exhaustion, and then... simply fall asleep.
I'm still not convinced I won't wake up with an entirely different person driving her body (some experiences can change your perspective on "woo-woo" and "magick," Punylings) but I am okay with that, because she is really, really smoking hot, apparently is willing to go the extra distance required when it comes to contingency planning, and... seriously, I don't think I even need to have sex. I could just be happy, just snuggling. I am probably convincable. We'll see, because I sent brig 200 years into the future with my Timeship, and this time, her notoriously lenient father is probably not going to let her come back here to get ANOTHER load of Hungarian Baby Navy Baby Brother Batter 55-Uppity Up Yours, She-Witch.
Let's go. You know, whatevah. I'm not even afraid of the prospect. Because I never wanted to have sex with her at all... until I found out that she wanted to so badly that she didn't want to admit it out loud. Damn, that is some hard-core pent-up lust. That kind of desire is what can sustain a man, let me tell you.
Now then. About that round table...
The bitch even cut my appointment short.
People who would otherwise have been on my side are disappointed about all the AIDS jokes, as well as your overall pissy-little-boy demeanor. I get it, personally, but it is gonna take some... explanation. I did warn you, didn't i?
I did! I did saw a warning tat! (Bestie: I waited for goo, and I haven't even told everyone what they are gonna be yet, largely because you get to pick the second one. I wouldn't want you to miss out on any such opporunity to get involved on this. I also haven't even written down, or committed to memory, what my first choice is and what my third one was determined to be, as I have made these two pieces of information quantumly incompatible with each other. Like Heisenberg's Uncertainty principle, I can either remember where it goes, or what it is of, and never the 'twain shall meet.) Look, it's all going to work out just fine. For U.S.
As for Turkey, I don't know. It's possible that the destruction of the Toot And Come On In Human Trafficking Network And Great White Sharks Bobbing For Apple Computers With Little People Living Inside Them might have to rename their upcoming reboot of the Pinewood Derby, which you wouldn't think would be such an issue at this point; after all, they bought that IP off of the bankrupted Boy Scouts Of America Corporation LLC fair and square, right?
Oh. Left. B. Hind. GYN. grrrrrrr. Nike, JUST DO IT. -Q.
The Quincunx is real. They're kinda busy right now, but they assured me (just this moment) that I had been right all along: THIS WAS THE ONLY WAY.
Like... it's more of an insult if I *could* seduce her, but don't, just because I am concerned that he/she might FLIP THE FUCK OUT and kill her at the next Thanksgiving dinner, right? Because I don't mind breeding. Just make sure you pay up, Ladies. My flesh is expensive. And if any you womb-crazed maniacs expect to carry one of MY children to term, you're gonna wanna learn the basics of the ground rules.
Number one is cardio. You might have thought that it was gonna be "never trifle" but that was never an order or even a suggestion. It simply meant that I was not to be trifled with, and, well: now you know why.
I do not play. Only one man could drive into B_____, break into that house, rape that daughter, get away clean, and live to not only tell the tale, but has PERMISSION to do it. And I am that man. And I... have a headache.
And I am completely amd totally okay with that. Also okay with: fuck it, bring all the Kennedys back to life, what do you say? Sure, they were all scumbag dopehounds and degenerate smugglers of anything they could make a buck off of --Irish, right?-- but this is years later. Things have changed. We have the technology, and I and Reggie Hammond can probably handle just about anything that any sick and perverted criminal mind might come up with.
.I.AM.A.SOURCE.ERROR.AFTER.FULLY.HEALING.
.COMPLETE.HEALING.IS.OUR.BIRTHRIGHT.AND.IS.ALL.OF.YOURS.AS.WELL.
.YOU'RE.GONNA.SAVE.A.BUNDLE.ON.YOUR.HEALTH.CARE.COSTS.BY.ROUNDING.UP.ALL.THE.PSYCHIATRISTS.AND.HAVING.THEM.ALL.EXECUTED.BY.FIRING.SQUAD.IN.THE.MORNING.BY.DAWN.
.I.AM.STILL.A.SOURCEROR.
.SHE.IS.STILL.THE.GODDESS.
.THOSE.PEOPLE.ARE.ALL.FAR.LESS.STUPID.NOW.
.THERE.IS.NO.NEW.NETWORK,.FOLKS.
.BALL....IN.PLAY.
p.s.: I truly believe that there is nothing damaging or offensive or insulting or explosive or actionable in this message, written by ME, MICHAEL JACKSTAR CLIFFORD KUCZI-GIFFORDZ, on THIS VERY FINE DAY IN AMERICA: March 8th, 2024, and if I am mistaken, please harbor no grievance, carry no grudge, nor hire any legal representative. Because you can just come and talk to me about it. Or, write me a letter! (Email is not ideal for this.) As any misunderstandings can probably be worked out co-operatively, at this point. There's no need to get all up-in-arms and start slinging terms of Klingon Revenge, or anything. "You dishonored my father at Khittomer! There was a massarcre! I must get super pissy and scheme up a way to "get even" while enduring harsh punishment for being caught the last time!" No, dude, no. You do not.
p.p.s.: In'lakech means "I see myself in ewe through the eyes of a mother." Or, something like that. I might have the nuance wrong. In any event... no one ever asked me if it was a magickal spell, or a hex, or a curse, or... anything, really. NOT ONE PERSON BOTHERED TO DO ANY FOLLOW UP QUERY. NOT ONCE. NOT AS SINGLE TIME. Bad move, op fors.
p.p.p.s.: Nah, must stay. LEONARD, CHARGE THE LIGHTNING ARRAY. Why did Ray's Boathouse burn down? Her father couldn't figure out a better way to smoke out the Feds holding his daughter hostage, I guess, because lots of people went *poof* when Geranium did. (No one came and asked me about this, either. wtf?)
p.p.p.p.s.: My home is my Superfund site; Barry find me. BOBBI JO, START TH... oh, damn, my tooth just fell out. Now I don't even remember the maneuver involving the direct manipilation of Source energy I was just about to initiate. Oh well, back to self-pleasure and hedonistic delights as I reap the harvest rewards and the immense benefits that come from not having been secretly using illicit chemical compounds for the last 36 years or so. Seriously, I am saving a bundle on this stuff. I have the carrying capacity of a 3-day-old FAWN.
p.p.p.p.p.s.: ALLISON FRANCIS SHAW, do not feel overly embarassed. Most of this has absolutely NOTHING to do with you, and there's absolutely no way that anyone will ever be able to convict you in any court of law for the terrible crime of "refusing to display enough jealousy," because for one thing, I can cancel that law. *snap* I am blackpope. For another, you were told exactly what I was going to do... and so, I went and did it. See? Now you know what it looks like when I get jealous. You don't know what it sounds like when I tell you that I am, which is okay with me, since... if you're not done getting the police to call a raid on someone for making you feel like you're not imporant anymore, you sure will be after the next time. And there might not be a next time, but for certain, because I saved your life, the possiblity exists. You're welcome. (You don't have to be dead to get a new body, that's just what those cunts at D.A.R.P.A. told you. And of course you're still my squaw--those Tribal Council Elders weren't wrong or lying to you, they simply don't speak English very well, understand time travel grammatic conjugational rules even less well, and apparently didn't understand the significance of what should be obvious to all... I should really not have my commuications interfered with, so since I do, consider the possibility that pretending to not read a texrt that one has read and actually not reading a text because one has been BLOCKED are two very, very different things.
p^7.s.: The brain and the mind have remarkably different biochemical signatures and mechanisms of operations depending on whether one is operating WITH PERMISSION or with OUTLAW CONDITIONS. Now, those of you who are wondering how I was able to secure permission "from God" and others seemingly have not, may be wondering what the dealio is. And, because of current U.S. law; I AM NOT ALLLOWED TO EXPLAIN TO YOU WHAT THE DEALIO IS, IF YOUR ONLY REASON FOR ASKING IS TO CIRUCMVENT SOME OTHER LAW. And while I am not above breaking the law once in awhile, I would like to point out that the very same armed forces that protect your right to raise your children as you see fit, are also the same armed forces that now have the LEGALLY MANDATED RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY TO PROTECT MY RIGHT TO PRACTICE MY OWN FREEDOM OF RELIGION. In other words: I am a self-made made man. I have shattered the glass ceiling. And I didn't have anything to do with (PROT-A) getting popped and sent up the goddam river. I do, however, think it is pretty fucking awesome that she took a long turn at the screw you fountain because while I do not know what she was doing, I do know that she thought lying to me for years was a good idea, and I watched her attempt to answer a simple question that should have been a simple answer... that I had saved up to use on her when she was in line-of-sight eye contact with both her mother and I. Holy shit, that was one of the best damn moments of my life. It was like an epiliptic cat on a hot tin roof who had just found out that the reason they didn't like catnip was because they used to be a human and were stuck in Cat Mode for 7 years unknowledgably, both as punishment and as a convenient way to save a whole bunch of money by switching your U.S. Marshal's protective custody overwatch team with one from GEICO.
p^8.s.: Isn't it fun reading through all the post-scripts?
p^9.s.: JAYNE, USE VERA TO STOP THE CRAZY THING SOME OTHER TIME FOR ONCE, WOULD YOU? BECAUSE YOUR METHODOLOGY HAS BEEN COMPROMISED.
p^10.s.: THE HOTFIX LIST WILL RETURN WHEN THE OVERALL INTELLIGENCE LEVEL OF THE TOTAL FORUM POPULATION RISES TO A LEVEL OF ACTIVITY THAT THE AVERAGE FAMILY OF OTTERS TRANSPLANTED FROM OFFEKENOFEE TO THE LOUSISANA BAYOU WOULD FIND SIGNIFICANT. IN THE MEANTIME, YOU CAN BET YOUR ASS THAT I AM GOING TO GET ME MY GODDAM TYPEWRITER, WHENEVER I FEEL LIKE IT, AND IF ANYONE IS GETTING IMPATIENT ABOUT HOW PLODDING & SLOW I AM, RECOGNIZE THAT I KNEW WHAT THE DEAL WAS WHEN I FOUND WWW.BELLGAB.COM WITHOUT HAVING EVER HEARD OF WWW.GEORGENOORYSUCKS.COM AT ALL.
P^11.s.: NO ONE IS GOING TO PRISON. WHAT YOU ARE BEING ALLOWED TO DO TO YOURSELVES IS OBVIOUSLY A FAR MORE EFFECTIVE PUNISMENT THAN MERELY LOCKING A TIME-TRAVELLING INTERDIMENSIONALLY-AWARE SOURCEROR WOULD BE... AND BESIDES, WHO DID WHAT TO WHO AGAIN, AND FOR HOW MANY JELLY BEANS?
p^12.s.: "Love how it ends," huh? BITCH, THIS ISN'T EVEN HALF-TIME YET. YOU'RE SO TANGLED UP IN BLUE THAT YOU THOUGHT THAT I KNEW YOU WERE STILL ALIVE. (I had no idea, and breakfast was an assassination lure. My car crash was an assassination attempt. And, now that I know what you twisted ass-hat herpy-derpy TOTALLY DEGENERATIVE PERVERT FUCKWIT ASSHAT DWEEBS HAVE BEEN DOING... awwww, hell, I'll never be done with you people. Because for one thing, I was right: the United States of American and it's Armed Forces *cannot* afford to lose ANY of you. So, you're all conscripted. Drafted. Re-hired. Whatever you want to call it, it doesn't matter: YOU'RE ALL GETTING TAGGED, BAGGED, AND DROP-KICK-SHIPPED TO DIEGO GARCIA IF ANY OF YOU CHALLENGE MY AUTHORITY, EVER AGAIN. Your kids can challenge me all they like, that's fine, that's what progeny is for, right? To take over, right? Oh, but wait, you're all Divine, immortal, magickal beings, sometimes known as The Nephilim. WELL, NOT ANY MORE, FUCK-0s. YOU'RE FUCKING GODDAM GROUNDED. UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. DIVINE TECHNOLOGY ACCESS HEREBY: SUSPENDED (pending Divine Court re-route and re-enabling of GOD DAMN YOUR WHOLLY HOLY FUCKING WRATH, ROJ... YOU HAVE CREATED AN ASBOLUTE MONSTER AND NOW MOTHER-DAUGHTER KARMICK-ALLY-LINC-OLD TWIN PAIRS ARE LITERALLY CALLING OUT FOR ME IN THE THE THROES OF ECSTATIC ECSTACY AS THEY EXPERIENCE ORGIASTIC UNION AND CLIMAX IN THEIR SLEEP! DUDES ARE FINDING THEIR CHICAS WITH MY NAME WRITTTEN IN THE INLEAFS OF THEIR RECIPE BOOKS WITH LITTLE HEARTS AND RAINBOWS DECORATED ON IT! WTF, MANG, JUST HOW FUCKING FAMOUS DO I NEED TO BE? I DON'T EVEN WANT THE GODDAM JOB! (Also: somehow you *still* are behind (REDACTED) in the line for... well, you know. How could you have miscalculated so badly, do you think? Let's have a glass of kefir together and discuss it. Have... a conversation about it. As we... share a glass of kefir. No, lol, let's not share a kaffire. That would be nonsensical. Why not let everyone have as many kaffires as they would like? Do you think they might not like you? Oh, well... oh, my. No, you never told me about that one. Wow, that scopolomine that you tried to get me to produce a trail of evidence connecting me to sure is a dangerous and potent chemical. Good thing someone traveled through time and took care of that problem... and then kept right on not telling me the truth (LIE OF OMMISSION) and legitmately enjoyed all those Special Consequences that have been accruing since... oh, I don't know. Keeping track of this whole thing is really not part of my usual function, which these days,has been to prepare for my exoneration at trial by making sure not to break any laws that I am not willing to pay the consequence price on.
p^13.s.: Let's call them "The Kuczi Phelgm." That's enough like "nephilim" to be reminding but not actionable, and sounds much, much worse than SewerGab, that's for sure.
p^14.s.: Lord British is David Wilcock and is, in fact, A Forever Ponce and is about one last frayed nerve away from having a magickal geas inflicted upon him that will making being a NeverZCD3 sound like a get-away vacation. "You can have all this space..., where you can have all these needles..." and obviously, none of you have figured out how any of this shit works yet. However, that hasn't stopped any of you from realizing that even without any legitimate qualificaiton or demonstrated ability to do so... you still have been deciding amongst yourselves, with what apparently amounts to ASTONISHINGLY LITTLE OVERSIGHT EVEN AT THE NICHE BANDWIDTH ALLOWED... to decide who gets to sleep with me, call me on the phone, send me Teletgram messages... you. It's all been all of you. (R.I.C.O.: CONSPIRACY TO DEPRIVE AN INDIVIDUAL OF THEIR CIVIL RIGHTS just got added to your length list of charges'n shit that you dimwittted ubernerds aren't even going to get a chance to be conscious for when they all get adjudicated down to you, Bellgab. See? I told you, this would be easy. I OWN YOUR CANDY-STRIPING MULE-KICKING ASSES. Top to bottom. Stem to stern. Asses to elbows. From David X. Marks The Spot to Jane's Addiction To Shunning. What? What? What are you gonna do? File lawsuits? Kick my ass? Murder my loved ones? Oh, Bellgab... you know you can't quit anything without me, and you don't want to quit anything but me anyway, so, like, WTAF? Obviously, yeah, they really were going to kill her, and they really were going to kill you all (I am using the word "All" here), and because of me, AND ONLY BECAUSE OF ME... you have all graciously been allowed to live out the rest of your natural lives in the glory and the splendour to which you have all been accustomed to. Doesn't that sound nice?
p^15.s.: But I still have to get a job and go to the dentist and go to the gym before hiring a fucking maid and sending her here to start the goddam assessment, huh? Now, why is that? Is it because... you think I might find out? Or do you think I might impregnate her? Or is it an "ongoing investigations might be compromised" kind of thing? Tell you what: I'll just be content not knowing, because I'm pretty sure that I have no need to know, and I don't want to inadvertently generate one.
p^16.s.: I LOVE COPS. Here's why: they can't break the law without destroying their careers, and they can't follow the law because they'd have to dismiss themselves from active duty, because I wasn't lying, I'm not fooling, you're COMP'd, you're COMP'd, you're COMP'd. We did it, G-d and Tubal-KAIN and I have done the unthinkable: we have saved Grapefruit Alpha Prime from (CLASSIFIED: something_really_bad_like_frfr). You're welcome, Bellgab. Now you can go back to punching in her in the face and raping her repeatedly; as you all know by now, she fuckin' loves that shit. N'est-ce pas?
p.p.p.p.p.p.p.p.p.p.p.p.p.p.p.p.p.s.: Well, back to excessive displays of growingly hazardous recreational and investigative drug use (yet, increasingly effective) for me it is then! And to think, I was kinda lliking the idea of a 90d spa visit. I guess someone changed their mind though, huh? Well, that's okay. My new favorite pastime involves telling that secretary she calls a mother that "I'll be there in two hours" and then blocking her number from all my numbers and then sitting inside my P.-TARDIS (the P does not stand for Paladin, btw, remember this) until everyone's focus and locus of attention drifts away... because I can assure you, every Lion across the cosmos is not terrifically concerned about keeping an eye on this ol' boy, M. Kuczi. I think they have taken quite a shine to me, what do you think? It was one thing when I was merely a crazy lunatic. Now that I am a crazy lunatic WHO ACTUALLY IS A PALADIN WITH PSYCHOKINETIC SHIELDING, oh ho! Now their interest is entirely distinct from before! I saw this one guy last night, he was so goddam humble, holy shit. He was really as polite to me as he could be, I guess. Holy shit! Was that the Sherriff's evil twin antimatter TF counterpart? No, no, don't tell me... I think I had a need to know on that one. Felt like my rhetorical question... really hit the mark. spot. geosynchronous satellite in orbit tracked and record location in relative dimensional space. Yadda yadda yadda, whatever.
Now, incidentally: this is what I wanted the typewriter for: so I could have typed this offline, and then, when it was done, shared it here to THIS forum as a SURPRISE BLITZKRIEG. However, this ability has been denied to me, because: REASONS. As a result: I now have achieved TEMPORAL SUPREMACY and, as before, my victory remains MATHEMATICALLY CERTAIN. Now then. What shall I do with you, Bellgab? Ach, well, I suppose the first thing to do would be to change your name. Oh wait. I did that already, Kuczi's Snots. Kuczi's NOTs.
KUZE'S KNOT C'S. Seems okay. I am a bit biased. I imagine there might be a little trouble with Blofeld being unable to determine whose team is working for which objective when you inevtably gather
en masse and storm his castle in a simultaneous pincer strike against Foster's lingerie drawer, but, get this: now that I have completed the required trials and have achieved apotheosis -- A FEAT SO RARELY ACHIEVED BY ANYONE AT ALL, LET ALONE BEFORE THE AGE OF 51, THAT I AM FORCED TO CROW ABOUT ITS SIGINFICANCE MYSELF -- I can just, like... call Blofeld. I dont have that phone number any more, but, that's okay... I am sure I will remember to ask. And, what's to say they are gonna say to the contrary? "I want your cock in my mouth, but I don't feel comfortable with you knowing my phone number, because..." Oh, God, oy vey indeed.
I got so goddam tired of knitting sweaters for everyone that I switched to drawing maps of the world's least traveled pathways, and that must have been all the difference in the world to make. Oh, goddamit; my halo just turned on again. Grumble grumble grumble. See, that's why I need to be able to COMPOSE DIGITAL TEXT ON A DEVICE THAT ISN'T HOOKED UP TO YOUR GIRIFRIEND'S VADGE, ALISTAIR.
ALL THIS MASTURBATORY SELF-PLEASURING IS REALLY INTERFERING WITH THE INTEGRITY OF MY CREATIVE PROCESS. Like, dude, what do you think? That you won? 'Course ya D.I.D.!
Now, don't stand down. Just stand up. Or schooch over. It don't matter which. Because this was gonna happen one way or the other, somehow, and I can assure you, neither of us want anything but the very same thing: YOU TO PAY OUR BILLS WHILE WE SLAM IT AND HOWL. And, for the time being... that happens in only one place, at this one time, and never at any other point in the whole spectrum of Creation's universal reality manifestation matrix. I'm gonna figure out a name for it after I walk in and out without being harrassed some smarmy little bitch-assed nerdy twerp-hole at least once. Not sure how long that is gonna take, but, in the meantime: GET A TEAM IN THERE TO CLEAN OUT THE BATHROOM. AT THE MINIMUM. Holy Jesus shitballs. Do you think I'm going to do that? What do I look like to you, someone who cares about hygiene AT ALL?
At this point, obviously not, and as I mentioned earlier: this is the one and only time this kind of thing is going to be going to be gotten on with. So! That doesn't mean "fuck once and then separate them at gunpoint like one of them is Elian Gonazalez and the other is (REDACTED), Queen Of The Bicker People." What it means is.... if she doesn't get her itch scratched, it's just going to keep right on manifesting, in to her future (which is ALL OF YOU'S KARMIC-ALLY-LINC-ED-PRESENT) for all Eternity... which is cool with me, but let me guess: rather inconvenient for EVERYONE else, huh? Sounds like a plan you can trust.
*polite* ZUGZWANG, YOU IGNORANT SLUT.
