We thought you had fallen down a rabbit hole.
That's just what his shadowmonger decided you were to be thinking... #Officially.
Now, attend me here, Class: Some of you have some, but none of you have as much class as this one does in it's left bunny ear, from about 3/5 of the way up, over to an indeterminate point, one which I myself will not deign to Analyze.
And yet. There Could Be One Who Did The Dialysis & The Analysis. Going the Extra Mile, as it were. And this bugs & language master would not be a one of them.
There would be no need for "extra." For him, all the miles are as they are presented... hurdles to mount, summits to conquer, and dullards to bring to enlightenment.
This is no fantasy. This is real life. Also, that's not an assault missile barrage, that's a helo. Kinda blurry, though. Maybe seamen crowding the lense?
There, here that crack? That's the sound of a lens, refocusing. Subtle, no? And speaking of which, who's this "we" shit and where's this "hole"? An environmental hazard, really?
And you're going with fall, and not push? Weird. Look, I'm not gonna lie: this is weird. (btw I saw George yesterday, in the wild, in the street, in front of an auto parts shop, and it was pretty damn awesome how polite he was... but, then again, why would anyone think I was upset at someone for being openly complicit in their own skein of totes nonsensical baldersnatch?)
Oh, sorry, I digressed. tl;dr, I legit saw "Failkie" as legit as I knew exactly this bugger from the first moment, not because I am psychic, but because I can read, I can pay attention, and in spite of this, I can still love a human in spite of any of their faults getting in the way. Oh, right, no I don't know anything, no really, I'm soooooo dumb, I just guess things.
Yah, so, I might as well continue to blow minds--Falkie and I are tight as fingers in a soft channel after the Surgeon General warned that too much expansion will lead to fallen arches... and, let me tell you, you can't really say you've lived until you've rolled through a town run by a trio of fallen Bishops. Not that I've been there for that, but, damn, I bet that is fucking nuts.
Also, I love to announce that I love George now, but that's really just shameless pandering, like posting on this site at all now that certain harsh truths have been revealed. For example, I hung up on Vandeven with that knock-knock gag and haven't looked back since... and I still haven't listened to the rest after me, and no one has told me what went down, other than, well, no one at all.
Except I get seething impulses through Insta. Like, seriously? Wow. And, no reveal? Fascinating. Holy crap, I can hardly wait, it's too bad I railed all these cornflakes without mentioning that to anyone, because now everyone thinks that I was, like, unable to control myself, or something, and not just, like... arranging a false picture of true reality so that I could find out who is who, which I of course do not do... I don't know who people are, because I just ask Jesus which ones to seduce, and which ones to simply, quietly tolerate.
I am not yet ready to follow the will of Jesus when it comes to raping. Try as I might, I just can't accept that there are any legitimate outcomes for that. "You want me to do what... and then, 30 days later, what is your plan then? Because I'm, well... look, I'm in this club, see..."
Jesus isn't likely to be doing much more than teasing me at this point. Jesus has one hell of a sharp sense of humour, and as it has been determined that I have absolutely no shame left--zero, my Darlings, bupkis, nit, swabo, high in the middle and fuckin' rounding it on both ends, I'm sorry, don't offend your mother? My mother is literally an undead lich now, I could give a shit if someone has no faith, and I just found the last thing I am ashamed about in my life about 20 minutes ago, and then, told my close personal friend Falkie about it--and so that's why I can exaggerate like this without fear or guilt... Jesus just whisks me straight to Hell, I chill for a bit, then I get whisked back, and believe me, it's quite humbling.
Like, the first time one of The Souls of The Damned asked me for a crust of bread--some bum, aboviously, who wants bread in Hell? Obviously someone with no idea of the kneading process... look, at first I was, like, sad and pitying, right? Awww, poor soul of the damned. It's hungry. Why isn't someone feeding it? Oh, it killed it's father for the insurance money and then sold its wife to Belfast without even thinking twice, just because he found out that she'd been talking to him for like a dozen years before they even met? Come on, there's lots of plausible reasons for that, does that really mean eternity in hell?
No, Jesus said, just kick him in the balls as we float by. They feel like they deserve it, and you're with Me--you must be special to them, Kidstar, they don't have to know that you feel guilty for not really wanting to enjoy inflicting pain yourself, they'll imagine that you're kind, but only you know deep down, you just don't wanna get your hands dirty in case someone comes around kicking people in the balls for holding the camera at the wrong angle.
Or, for too much exaggeration. "Liar, blasphemer," yadda yadda, oh, is that a song? Well, so is the sound a defibrillator makes as it warms up, and what do I know from a song for? My wife killed me for making too much noise with my mouth, just for fun, imagining, you know, laser beams slicing Hunter Biden's laptop in HALF.
Naturally, in reality, it's nothing of the sort, and I have no idea who Bugsy is, not really, the real Bugsy was a fucking nightmare sailor, and there ain't no one that capable of snapping to that crazy than me around here, as after all, I'm not new, people know that when I appear to have lose my shit, I probably have not, and if I have, well, exactly who might that be a problem for, Nacho Libre? Oh, well, that's a secret. "Oooh! I'm so enraged! And, I refuse to divulge why! So, I guess less enraged than if one were forced to own up to their own total treble cliff horsedick shit."
I heard about this one kid--we'll call him Dennis--and I heard that he would occaisionally get, like... uh, "difficult." I guess they call it that now. I thought it was adorable. "He's breaking objects and threatening suicide? And then? What, does he have a dead-man switch or what? Oh, he knows you don't believe in The Resurrection & The Life, huh? Look, it's a self-solving problem. I would resurrect you, but not him, and you don't even think being born again is real, as I'm sure he only kills you and pops you back in when there are no witnesses... uh, uh-uh, okay, sure. Tell you what, let's see him impress you with a witness. Not Jehova, how about we settle for literate?"
Long story short, ever since I heard that "flipping out" is what gets some people more street cred at home, I've been more and more willing to front like that's a thing I have to deal with, because Mike Seigel was a fairly okay host, and he was a badass for even taking the job at all... but, he was boring as shit. You get a guy named "Bugsy Siegel," and he's taking over for someone who's family is being stalked and raped and toxified and more and deliberately... look, I don't expect calm. I expect non-stop intensity, because once the enchanted sword is unsheathed, to not taste blood would be damaging to its brand.
(Speaking of which, I always liked Failkie, that's why I turned his thread into NINE ELEVEN FOREVER, MURDER BITCHES, at first, I simply thought it would break up the monotony of all y'all pretending there was not something seriously fucked up going on. And you poor schlubs led him to believe I loathed Barney & Betty Rubble. How many years? Weak.)
Long story short, you didn't think any thing about a rabbit hole, more like rabbi hole, I am well aware, and as so shall you also be... The Benevolent Order of Water Buffalo decries the assumption that this chap is gonna fall into a rabbit hole... no, much more likely that one to be digging his own way into one.
We thought
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Scrabbling at straws. Oof vey da oy. I mean... sure, proof of life, but let me tell you something, and after decades of this, you should probably listen: Failkie is, in fact, an Archangel, and he came 'round to say hi as I was buying a new spinner for my Hot Wheels. And that's really all you need to know.
Naturally, he's a huge fan, considering that he knows fucking damn well that the first thing he said to me was, "fuck you," and it's been all Undiscovered Country, Back And Forth, ever since. I remember people dropping jaw agape, "omg, a picture of Snoory and a real George, what? How can this be?" I mean like holy shit, this is news? I am not going to lie, I never wanted to replace Failkie, or have that be a thing people wondered, so I resisted all recruitment attempts by Nero Blaze, & Co.
Partially because I'm, you know, really fucking lazy, but also because, well, I have a way of sucking all the hot air out of the room, and I can't compete with his more advanced esoteric corpus. I could today, sure--busy, but hell yah--but, do I need to replace Failkie? Shit no.
I need to replace Anne Streiber, that's who. She is not being very inspiring these days, being dead and all. Perhaps if I had actually read her book? Well, fuck it, she tells me from Beyond The Grave that it's amazing enough that I opened the cover once, let alone, bought it at all. Oh, and, speaking of which, I don't know for sure, but it's my thought that Mrs. F and S thought a little bit higher in the estimation of ol' Jackstar, when I revealed openly that I am not fond of rape humours.
Which I found in great measure when I first came here, and you know what? Let's keep the rape humour, as a Bellgab tradition. Oh, but hang on, this is not Bellgab, it's AzzGab, so instead, let's have twenty-two pages of stop-motion animation of The Last Two Rape Fruits working his uncle until he's in a diabetic coma... because of course, that wouldn't be salty as much as sweet.
Okay, so, let's see Warren Beatty top that. Michael Keaton, "Let's go nuts!" was the nadir of wicked, honestly... until I saw people trying to arrange pyschodramas on the fly before my eyes, and imagine that I wasn't going to notice or give a shit about expressing emotion.
Y'all getting the picture here? Oh, good, no you shouldn't. But I could tell Failkie about it... but not on that fucking forum, dude, holy shit, like seriously, that link was why I turned on my psychokinetic shielding early.
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[/size]We thought you had fallen down a rabbit hole.
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[/size]Oh, look, the [/size]faux[/size] tender concern, spare me the rolleyes, just let them bug right out, Hazmat. You get that you fool fuckin' no one, right? And if you do... ugh, take them with you shopping for planks. And holy crap, what's with the font spacing? Oh, right, just in case JACKSTAR IS FLIPPING OUT AND BEING CRAZY BY... using the English language to convey dangerous ideas without any hope or prayer of stopping him. So clearly, I am in the rabbit hole.
[/size]Making more rabbits. Anyway, I couldn't believe it when I saw Bugs, I mean, really, this was scary? I mean, I guess, to someone with aunts.
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[/size]We thought you had fallen
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[/size]I actually offered him an upgrade, and of course I will neither confirm nor deny if he took it on or not, because... ooh! watch out! might get maaaaaad! Oh noes! What's that like? Wait, save it for The Conclave Of The Fallen.
[/size]Or, you know, whatever, it's fine. You know what? It's great. I didn't want to fuck it up, the guy was here way more than me and has huge fans and I didn't realize I was fiddling with a legend at a time, but now that I have mentioned it, yes, it's true, I have great respect and admiration for Failkie, and all his fans are a bunch of fuckin' losers for painting me with an enemy brush. That being said, what you scumbags were doing at one point... as far as I knew? Absolute trash.
[/size]By the way, Kelly is raging hot for me these days. That's her name, right? Oh, Kathy? Nope, never heard of her. There's a Kelly, though. I've been seeing her sister... like, in visions.
[/size]But not the other one. Hrm. Oh, but suddenly, Failkie is rolling up on me IRL--like, in a parking lot--as if that is totally normal. I mean, it is, but... still, I clocked him immediately, and didn't give him berth space out of respect... oh no, it was out of fear. I was afraid he was going to tell me that I had trafficked his wife and raped her, and he was gonna hire a P.R. team to smear me.
[/size]I get this delusional flash a lot these days--occupational hazard--but from that guy... well, shit, that might stick. Plus, I don't know why anyone thought I was opposed to him, I made it very clear that you assholes were exploiting him wrong, and by that I meant, you know, at all, without giving me any vig. What the FUCK, Assholes.
[/size]Well, who's laughing now? Bugsy in a rabbi hole? Shit, I hope so. I hope his Papa is doing that too, because believe me, you're all delightfully entertaining now. What happens if any of y'all ask him for any money, or a hamburger, or a hit of vape? Does he go bugsy then... or just wish he could? I don't know, but I do know he couldn't have fallen into any hole, because this golden nigger walks on water. 'Struth.
[/size]Also, Ali—seriously, do not bother with any tech defense. Your biochem corpus is far in retreat of mine own, and I don't even have a biochem corpus, you spastic laughbot 'tard block.
[/size]Like... yeah, I get, relief of tension, it's anxious-making... nevertheless, you're not there to be revolting. You're there to be welcoming. If you start acting like something is wrong, people might actually bother to wonder, and then, well, you know--someone's gotta rape all the curious people. And Falkie and I have negotiated... we are not doing that. Also, Bugsy is grounded, look, poker face is your only safe option.
[/size]On the other hand you do look perky while laughing like a hyenea. Just my input here, I really would like you to keep this up, because I know you two deserve each other, and there's no way Vandeven and I can do live, not without Ciardelo working the real-time censorship.
[/size]What we should do is lounge-chill, like when we first met, but he's... you know, castrated now, so it would not be like the first time. And for me, the Gabcast is Blahblahblahcast, Jesus, you get that the clever commentary isn't cool, right? You're establishment mouthpiece bitches, right? Oh, yeah, I heard a joke about that this time, right up front.
[/size]Good. Keep it up. Or else I'll murder and rape your children. I'm threatening you. See? It's so plausible. It's organic! Let's break for some music, here, let me turn off the erotic spoken word pornography first.
[/size]Or, you know, command me not to. Whatevah. I know you could use some pointers on this. I know you're rusty. And I know that you didn't like what happened that one time that weekend. So now, I provide options.
[/size]Hard drives are not included, and, hey, thanks again: for taking michael, you all get a warm pat on the back. (Next time: pre-recorded, you can get it off my Twitter as class perk.) And, no, I wasn't telling the truth.
[/size]Of course I know whose forwarding my calls. You know who doesn't? Her father. lulz
(I can go back to reminding you about 9/11 if you wish, Grapestar, just say the word and then quickly hang up so no one can triangulate you. Semper fi.)
