I’d say get bent but I know that you already are. 
I didn't know what “gay” meant until last year, or knew what real CM was like, because of some peculiar legal loophole that foreign state-sponsored clandestine actors very nearly used to conquer our nation and eradicate the whole text of the U.S. Constitution from the whole of the very fabric of spacetime... but I still can't figure out what “bent” means in your usage of it.
Because I'm a naturally-talented diplomat, I will not ask another to axe-splain on a field of combat, and because most of your feminine descendants wish to get into my pants and have cautioned me not to go too hard on you, especially in public... I'm going to refrain from asking you at all about how you might “know” any such thing, nor shall I chafe under any such archaic restriction.
Now that I get it, I kind of groove in it. Also, I can tell you're really messing progress on the insatiable desire to resort to misandry and ethnic slurs in our discussion, and I must say, the newer look, it's great on you, Kid. You're back to being a real L.O.O.K.E.R. again.
(Infatuation with Albert Finney intensifies by a moderate amount, and The Ruling Council quickly authenticates my demonstration of the required skillsets to be... adequate.)
Let's talk non-aquatic migratory birds that dine upon neither manflesh nor carrion: when can we start planning the chiral parallel universe’s Sweet Sixteen surprise birthday extravaganza? The poor dear, she dunno that she's even under the age of majority... s/he simply knows that I am way, way, WAY too old.
Well, yeah,
duh Your decrees are inviolable, my Liege. Speaking of which, would you kindly, unilaterally declare that my parenting curriculum of immensely advanced wisdom be enshrined for all Eternity as, “stand there and rehearse apologies in iambic while I pound two cans of craft beer so you can have two empty cans to squeeze into your dowry, while I slave over a hot Bunsen burner, working to add to my #Legacy, an enchanted potion that upon imbibing, causes the imbiber to send lengths of string flying out of everyone's butts but their own in a five hundred foot/yard radius, because it seems the only problem kids these days is not enough whitewashing of good fences.”
I know: unwieldy. Yet stay with me here, stay-stay with me; what I've just done is akin to spelling words in front of a toddler, or a family pet, so the youngsterv won't, “understand things too quickly.” Also: fluoride and lead deliberately introduced into the physical environment. Simultaneously: deliberate removal of access to hugging technology. Hrrm.
Look, I don't see myself as “bent.” I see me as “flexible.” Also: theoretically proven to be infinitely scalable as a matter of practical everyday course. Damn, maybe I got this whole “that pretty” kinda bass-ackwards, as I clearly possessed a beautiful mind in the halcyon days, now gone by of yore.
“Bent,” not “warped”? By polite custom, I'm gonna psychoanalyze you in public now, but, rumor has it you have an Only fans —I can that link now, if you like, no pressure but it was no possible option before— and I mention this because I now just realized... holy shit, psychoanalysis is WAY more sexually gratifying than sexual stimulation ever could be, and... I'm really not much of an exhibitionist. I'm kinda uncomfortable now, but I can push through for now, for the sake of the science.
Also, you have like seven different descendant genomic lines eating all this up along with the scenery on either three or threeve timelines, so... look, technically, you have infinite children? Because I have zero.
So they'll always outnumber me, I'll always be older, and they’re all squabbling over which of them gets to be the first to squirt me out in a femme form, and no one is really sure if I require a penis or not.
Tests on the ‘nads are purportedly coming back gangbusters. Meanwhile, I'm, you know:
ambivalent.
(Vengeance for (PRAD-Tī7), Monarch of Da (Cl.).)
You must be double jointed to be able to suck your own dick like that.
Your point is well-taken & made in your expressed context, and I thank you for upgrading my comm profile from you to what feels on this end to be at least a fifth-grade level. Up from “obnoxious overly-entitled toddler somehow faking spina bifida,” which I just know is a great omen.
Important to consider: that level of schizoid thinking is, so far in my personal experience, the result of exogenous communications. I think it's kind of naff and/or blah as well, I really do. However I've learned not to taint my biscuits before they are even baked.
Yeah, OF COURSE IT IS A COMPLEX COPING MECHANISM yet in this context, its a simple survival instinct that I've repurposed as well as I could be able, so as in order to preserve valuable life — as well as that ineffable quality of “face.”
btw: Minerva is very grateful, and I CARE NOT A WHIT FOR ELDER HUTCH AND HER BIGGOTY-DIG-DUG-UNLAWFULLY CONCEALED OPINION. As I wasn't asked to save her, she's free to be hung. However, her only human daughter is a child, and it would be harmful to the global resource economy if as many people all took the day off to work to celebrate as an immediate consequence.
Also, I don't have any data on Minerva except the following — crucially important that she wasn't tortured to death, one of your descendants wants in her pants too. Oh and also there's a visiting ET that wants to fuck me to death while “accidentally” smothering me to death with the dirtiest
dirtypillows around. “How are they not immediately cluing in?” she reasonably wonders.
And the answer is: psychokinetic shielding set to: “look, I can't guarantee safety, so I can't have sex yet,” and it is a RICK SOLID mnemonic device. I may sound like I wanna hug? Welp nope. I haven't reached sexual desire in a healthy way I can tolerate since 3rd date revelations.
2017. Of course that's simply too wildly implausible to be believed.
Nevertheless. The Gwen Stacy Effect is real, and I conquered the sexytime equivalent of running a four-minute-mile. OF COURSE I WOULD RATHER BE HUMPING.
However, it is like this: Guy, uh, “eh” had a disease, and the only known cure was a rigorous course of adrenochrome infusion. Not one goddam chance in motherfucking hell. I'm A_MILLER, ffs. Also, I had already done seven years with no sex or hugs already... why the sudden interest now after inadvertently being caught committing literal, actual HIGH TREASON?
Still mostly curious, but anywho: when my libido became a dog whistle I was able to begin to repair certain DNA codes that had been 100% untouchable before, akin to a sailing vessel needing a drydock to effect certain select, niche aboard-ship damages. Like imagine: someone who doesn't even know that they aren't using cocaine -or- armpit hair properly in a culture that makes both highly taboo subjects, subject to heavy, tyrannical police enforcement action. Including round-the-clock lifetime 24/7 surveillance. Hey, when did you find out that the Punies are THAT fuckin’ broken-down jokes?
Because they aren't anymore. On a Universal scale. A case like mine never presented itself. I'm guessing all others were miscategorized as “schizo,” “loser,” “creep,” “psycho,” “Amway proselytizer,” also my personal favorite:
“On record as having experienced a TBI; escaped from woodchopper; just move on.” Christ. Like I didn't consider moving on already. Repeated identical commands from security professionals?” Throw in a soup-bone, suddenly: you got yourself a meal without all that tedious mucking about with teaching someone to
fish.
I suppose the benefit for you is that you can also smell your own farts while you’re down there.
(Note that the benefit to you is that you're no longer marked for death by an unstoppable, utterly murderous elemental energy. Don't say thanks or dwell on it. Consider Barbara Hershey in
The Entity. Didn't look like much fun to me... but maybe IRL, the brat deserved it. Also remember
Paranormal Activity,
The Blair Witch Project, and
Metalstorm: The Destruction of Jared-Syn.
* Jackstar also can declare “Your Tax Shelter & Power Conditioning Algorithm is ready to use without any tedious necessity of concealing ones’ involvement in FELONY RACKETEERING FOR THE PURPOSE OF SKIRTING THE MANN ACT, which is such a big fucking concern, my mind literally reels. I won't say you (or anyone) ever came close, okay?
People skirt it all the damn time. It typically is handled thusly: suddenly, one is paying bribes, then fines, then lawyers, then pay-per-view skinflix in a non-descript two-floor motel adjacent to an Interstate, then you kinda lose track of a few minor details and, bickety-bam, you're dopeslaved and choking down five strange new dicks every day before breakfast after coming out of a blackout haze standing in the kitchen, just tryna pour oneself a cup of ambition, legit actually unable to remember one’s own name... huh.
By the way, lest there be any doubt, “nigger” really is a truly vile and repugnant word. And our common primary abuser is not a truly vile and repugnant worm.
She was a nano-nanna squid, and is fucking goddam neutralized. Don't thank me, the outcome was sub-optimal.
It thought it was a squaw. Taming and rehabilitation would have been ideal. Instead: sub-ßesties are now wondering if being a squaw would be “cool to lie about at a job interview.” No one really knows the half of this part. Melania and Bruiserman said it best: trafficking is basically the most vile crime imaginable. Did they really arrest him FOUR GODDAM TIMES? Huh. Well, we are tied — 4:4, he's got Melania and I'm a Sourcerœr with a 450-year extension to my lifespan.
I wouldn't hesitate to trade, because Melania is literally an incarnation of a Goddess from mythological times, and since she'd have to bring it up... well, either Sourcerμ is really sophisticated or she's been dosed with a magickal brain hex. Either would be my area—and consider the street cred to be gained by simply... resolving any potential threat and then openly and freely giving both back to him, no questions asked?
Instead: triggered into nuking my house and waking up dopeslaved while USSS is forced into a command performance of a
The Caine Mutiny reboot spec script. In this context, running a war crime as a fully-sanctioned off-books dark op makes perfect sense. Can it be explained? Oh hell no.
How can one have any pudding if one’s meat is not eaten? Historical records indicate The Man Yeshua chose to spoke in parables, and after 3±π decades, was then nailed to a tree. Now here's Tom with the weather. War 101.
Keep it classy, keep it sassy, keep it... Peter Gunn/RISQUÉ? SYNTAX WASH ERROR DAY. FELICIA, DORIS, DOOMS, SUSAN, DANIEL SIMPSON, THAT WILL BE THE. Stay with me here—it's not Pontypool. (Not a threat to be concerned with at this level/time.) Nor is it panty drool. Basically, “I know not what weapons WWIII will be fought with,” was a very clever insight from a Hungarian with lots of karmic energy to burn off. Safely. Now. Where are we with this? Oh, right, unlawful surveillance, theft of property, abuse of power, false color of Law, the law of unintended consequences, and a Nin-ten-tardisDS. Hey cute, it prints money. Do I still have a Wii with accessories? Huh. Why?
Hula hoops, the length of men's beards and ladies skirts, and the price of gold billion. Now, all of that? Could be indicative... of a pattern.
Could be.Alternatively, there's a biglong list of otter things. I mean, other things. Now, let us hope that a critical mass of ascendant Human consciousness was reached that time. Naturally, I have no way of knowing.
I've left the matter quantumly indeterminate. I neither invented nor perfected this technique. I also never agreed or asked to be The Failsafe. Similarly: my father didn't ask for his cat to be killed. Or maybe he did. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I did, however, ask to be flooded by admiring hotties.
Reasons. NONE of them include ANY interest in sex. Weird, huh? As that's basically the #1 thing I'm assumed to be in denial over, lol.
Beyond that, I am uncertain, but I do know: no call for help to A.i.🕯️Candlestick Park? John Wick? Now, THOSE are patterns. I am a wind in a door to a leaf. Prognoskiokes? I barely remember the name. It was cool though, and before all this... many more before I suffered all that I have and more. So, what's different this time?
Let me know later. Oxytocin storage deplenished, and deliberate sabotage of a residential water supply on a bona fide unrecognized World Heritage Site. And NO ONE, NOT EVEN THE CREATOR HERSELF NOR HE Royale SELF, can say with certitude which is which. I am under the impression it's an utterly unheard-of circumstance, and, well...
“My father's weapons are cursed.” Hi, my name is Jean, I'm Patsy’s friend, and you did what to who? How delightful. I'll call you later, I have to pack. *click*
I did not arrange all this to get to relive old love affairs. I did arrange things so those kinds of options could never b be fully extinguished, for all Eternity.
Because some times people change their minds, right? Also, people LITERALLY thought it was a shame for one such as I to be catastrophically retarded. You know what? I thought so as well. Anyone wanna know what exactly happened? So did I. Then as soon as I found out, I informed the appropriate party, who then did not follow through as per original agreement.
But what's crucial... is bags of household waste, i.e. “trash.” Weird. Well, when in Rome... be subjected to civilzation-wide lead poisoning. Hard, stop, pass.
Stories about crucially important events of significance to members of an ethnic group known to be reliant on spoken oral history? Hey, here’s an idea forget that when a person’s right to a speedy trial is violated, there must be some reason. In the case of Julian ASSANGE, an actual creepy dude and he betrayed his country, species, and ethnic group. AND SEVERAL MILITARY AND PARAMILITARY ORGANIZATIONS.
In my case, well, I don't really know. But I know this— it's been worth it. Also I deliberately disallowed two attempts by some to allow my proprietary research technology to be used to give him cover. And I reported certain events directly to the U.S. Military... while others did not.
(Post savage nudes.)
My access to running water at my residence in a maneuver masquerading as a teachable tough-love moment while actually presenting AN ACTUAL WAR CRIME has really been a game-changer. I smell so goddam rank, I made a dog riding in a car with me with his/her two masters, actually piss -AND- shit her/him self. Just by being nice to the doggie-woggie.
Everyone was really pro about it all, except for me. (Standards.) I guide l honestly don't know how they handled it, the humans I mean. I'm picking the word deliberately: RANK.
As well, the trip was purposeless. Turns out I didn’t need a ride at all, just a little human company and I guess the dog was under geas, or something? I'm not sure how this charmingly quirky and rapidly approaching obsolescence demonstration ritual managed to stay around so long, but... as it turns out, I wasn't lying.
I really can do whatever I want, because I only want to do what is best for all concerned. Usually this is a bullshit rationalization, right? Well, it seems to have not ever have been, and I'm surely as interested in safety protocol compliance as the security establishment so rightfully is as well.
(*Sudden exclamations of highly inappropriate and profane exhortations are heard from a canary at the back of the “twerps only” real-time observing audience.*)
I don't wanna type it out, but it was hella funny. Quite worthwhile with demonstration #2: see, I can let things go. In fact I do all the time.
Anyway, I’d say get bent but I know that you already are.
How did this statement get duplicated... and what is the context meaning to
convey? Look, no one has to be taken Downtown, Gulp Interrupted.
However at this time... you and your milksops can't be allowed to be, like... downwind. (It's in the regulations now.)
Now, order l order l please, if you post please: I must be changing location. (GRUMBLEFOOT/TRAMPLE|DOOR|PORTALAJAR\FAILSAFE)³ /.Break command not recognized.
F9ILS9FE. It doesn't mean what you think it does, does.
