Why the fuck is Jackstar so Goddamn Crazy?

[Colonel Pate Manly]

I have to admit that my original Nooronic Martian mission that first introduced me to this thyme-lein has long been settled;  thus only revealed an unusual and unpredicated sub-Hawking annamolé.



The above is the closet yore mostly retarded thyme-lein has cum to this pan-Zuniversal dickton.

I still donut understang how Dave Nooron is OTA fur yell:



Nefermynd that, it is the YakStar inanity that seems pandemic;  weather conflated, coretarted or incindental to levels of Whirling Klowns is unclear (but amusing, at night mostly)...

Some researchers dissert; others dissemble:  Eye choose to digress, mainly on how many knots from my position to notional shorelines.

-Commodore P. Manly

[WORTHAUGERa]

Maybe—and this is just Me spitballing here—but, maybe, Somebody shouldn’t have taken the time it took to really piss on me with jet racing fuel and then light it off with a busted–ass charcoal matchstick, instead of, you know: demon strafing intelligent integrity of One’s purpose. I am just saying. There are other puny ways for Punylings to have spent their time… at least, there were.

For instance, remember when I wanted a simple Tesla truck? Well–now, I want Elon’s not–steel balls served in a dirty ashtray to a (PROT) scion of my choosing—TBD. The lucky winner can decide what to do with them. But for my own part, I would be happy to see them thrown against, and hopefully into, through and beyond a busted driver’s side window. I’m nothing if not flexible. recalcitrant, relentless, sure, yeah, uh-huh… but flexible, and with a positive attitude on the matter. These days, that’s key. Totes.

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Remember:
I DELIVER.

[WORTHAUGERa]

Nefermynd that, it is the YakStar inanity that seems pandemic;  weather conflated, coretarted or incindental to levels of Whirling Klowns is unclear (but amusing, at night mostly)...

I wish I had daughters, so I could teach them to masturbate to crush videos and imprint them on your dogs (I couldn’t do this with male children, it would ruin the fantasy).

I know what you’re thinking: dark, right? Well, that’s what we’re gonna burn all the witches for: LET THERE BE LIGHT. You know the goslings and when they imprint on the ping-pong balls? Imagine all the orifices pre-stuffed and the balls come flying out with every fierce squish, each with its own little gosling flying after it with thoughts of humping it to death on the line. That’s how the Russian Cossacks did it, that’s how Alexander did it, and I see no reason we cannot revitalize the practice in time for any and all of your dog and pony shows.

YakStar

Puppies, too. Mark my words.

[pate]

Maybe—and this is just Me spitballing here—but, maybe, Somebody shouldn’t have taken the time it took to really piss on me with jet racing fuel and then light it off with a busted–ass charcoal matchstick, instead of, you know: demon strafing intelligent integrity of One’s purpose. I am just saying. There are other puny ways for Punylings to have spent their time… at least, there were.

For instance, remember when I wanted a simple Tesla truck? Well–now, I want Elon’s not–steel balls served in a dirty ashtray to a (PROT) scion of my choosing—TBD. The lucky winner can decide what to do with them. But for my own part, I would be happy to see them thrown against, and hopefully into, through and beyond a busted driver’s side window. I’m nothing if not flexible. recalcitrant, relentless, sure, yeah, uh-huh… but flexible, and with a positive attitude on the matter. These days, that’s key. Totes.

...


Remember:
I DELIVER.

I wish I had daughters, so I could teach them to masturbate to crush videos and imprint them on your dogs (I couldn’t do this with male children, it would ruin the fantasy).

I know what you’re thinking: dark, right? Well, that’s what we’re gonna burn all the witches for: LET THERE BE LIGHT. You know the goslings and when they imprint on the ping-pong balls? Imagine all the orifices pre-stuffed and the balls come flying out with every fierce squish, each with its own little gosling flying after it with thoughts of humping it to death on the line. That’s how the Russian Cossacks did it, that’s how Alexander did it, and I see no reason we cannot revitalize the practice in time for any and all of your dog and pony shows.


Puppies, too. Mark my words.

FLOWERS

[Jackstar]

Lighten up, Stradlater.

[Jackstar]

You MF’ers would simply NOT BELIEVE the fucking morning I am having. Holy fucking shit. FIXING INTEL FUCKING UNREAL.

g-ddam nanoteck auto-correct

Semper fi, my Lovelylings. Rot fu? Heh. Heh heh.
TOTES FU *SLAM*

[Jackstar]

Overdose Oysters.

[Starr Mountain]

Overdose MOUNTAIN Oysters.

FIFY

[pate]

[Jackstar]

Lying to me for three fucking decades has consequences. Enjoy, Baby.

I'm following the protocol, I think. Nothing actually makes sense. When do I actually get to kill people?

Try kindness, Spookshow. I hear it works out well--for everyone concerned.

[Jackstar]

Spookshow.

Not gonna lie. Pretty goddam fond of this One. Thanks for the mammaries, Tiger.

[Jackstar]

I'm following the protocol, I think. Nothing actually makes sense. When do I actually get to kill people? That tad bit of intel would really help.

Should I hand out candy or fruit like Jack The Ripper? Who should I fuck? Why is this so HARD?

Reasons.

[Jackstar]

Reasons.

They ain't all that good--but as far as reasons go, they are (blank) challenging.

[Jackstar]

challenging.

I prefer "solid." Sorry, I can't edit my post: I'm busy incinerating my hair. Maybe next Tuesday, Meryl.

[Innerreach]

🫀#LULZ🫶🏻