AzzeKūn
AzzGab => Politics => Topic started by: Innerreach on July 05, 2022, 03:05:36 AM
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https://rumble.com/v1avitv-devolved-vol-5-revelations.html
🦅 Happy Independence Day! 🦅
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https://youtu.be/3ZKkUBlc4Vg
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https://youtu.be/xnKhsTXoKCI
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🦅 Happy Independence Day! 🦅
Watch the fireworks. This g*y is key.
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I already heard about Barlow.
Washington State Court Dates search is down.
Woke up at eleven to find a bunch of voicemails and here there's a bunch of pictures.
Continuing to get notifications to sign into a Google Account ... that does not exist.
So you're probably looking for Detective Knight. I don't know if his name is “Michael,” but that would make sense now wouldn't it? Here's his number. (360)531-4717
I only ever talked to him once. I don't really know anything more now than I did then. Not really. I mean... I am about to testify against her, unless she's decided to recant her testimony, which they haven't told me anything about, I assume under the pretense that as an incompetent boob, I don't need to be told anything.
I don't give a shit about your Q shit. I thought quitting was enough. Is there some sort of problem now? Write me an email!
Something is being held in abeyance, by somebody else not making a decision, as they're waiting for more information that they expect to get from somebody, I don't know.
Forewarned is forearmed.
3
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I don't give a shit about your Q shit. I thought quitting was enough. Is there some sort of problem now? Write me an email!
(https://i.imgur.com/meqQ2jm.jpg)
I feel truly sad for those unfortunate others who lack the discernment to perturb the war that's fought and common sense to know we’re winning.
#Kidding
They can get fucked, stay lost, and get the hell out of my way!
https://youtu.be/s2PNOokBh1Y
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Watch the fireworks. This g*y is key.
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You can only cut plastic so many times before it learns to get out of the way. It's an organic compound.
I'm not sure which one is which but I can find out. That'll probably only be $5,000 an hour. Plus tip.
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That'll probably only be $5,000 an hour. Plus tip.
You fucking tease.
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https://youtu.be/My2FRPA3Gf8
$5,000? You, Cheap-Ass-Nigga!
https://youtu.be/4Y5YLQ2CWbw
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Where'd you go, Nazi Grammar Nigger?!
I 👉👌🌹 in your own house when she lived with you.
https://youtu.be/uWgRN3D-VrQ
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You've been riding that trust fund train for so fucking long that you don’t know what it’s like to be human anymore.
Humility inbound, Jacko. It's not if it will arrive, but rather when, motherfucker.
#IDontWorkForYou
https://youtu.be/7aJtP4E3P_U
Love, Matt & 🌹
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#IDontWorkForYou
Love, Matt & 🌹
No, you don't, but I just fired the woman you've been abusing as your cum dumpster, so have fun in the break room on OK Cupid, Champ. I'm done with your bullshit. I'll launch a nuke at Bluebeard's castle before I put up with this even one minute longer. Fuck off.
BACK TO SEATTLE FOR C4 TESTING.
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You've been riding that trust fund train for so fucking long
What are you talking about, and how do you know it? Because this is actionable, you numb cunt-fucking slut, and I don't give a shit what you want, or how badly out of date your information is. Someone will put a sniper's round between your eyes soon enough, and probably already has... I could care less if it's The_Original that dies while writing in agony, I just need your constant dumping of toxic waste on my life to be held TO ACCOUNT.
And I will take your anus out through your nostril to do it. You pick the side, Asshole, because IT is FUCKING ON IT.
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writing in agony
What? I told you in the first place. You already got a suit. You want another suit? Of course you do.
Why don't you suck Matt's dick some more? Maybe he can give you one.
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I 👉👌🌹 in your own house when she lived with you.
#1) I don't care.
#2) Anyone here could call for a wellness check. They have my blessing.
I don't give a shit what you do or who you do it to, it's not of my business once she started sucking your cock--you're both nincompoops and I have long since moved on, and if you think I'm going to carry on with resentment over multiple passed lives, well, you're an idiot, we already knew that, but I had no idea you were an actual demented idiot.
(Obviously I can't report a missing person at that fucking house, because optics. Now that you've announced where you are and who you're fucking, go ahead, make my day, phone it in, fuck if I know, fuck if i care, I'm nowhere near the place and you can burn down a brick house in place for all I fucking care.
Alternative sexless proposal: eat my shit and die.)
P.S.: You're boring.
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No, you don't, but I just fired the woman you've been abusing as your cum dumpster, so have fun in the break room on OK Cupid, Champ. I'm done with your bullshit. I'll launch a nuke at Bluebeard's castle before I put up with this even one minute longer. Fuck off.
BACK TO SEATTLE FOR C4 TESTING.
Gay 🌈
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Humility inbound, Jacko. It's not if it will arrive, but rather when, motherfucker.
I've been waiting around 10 month, shithead, you can't do anything besides find women with an anxiety disorder and shout "boo!" and then post on the Internet about how proud you are to make a woman come.
Just fuck off.
Gay 🌈
Go (blank) Tamara again, Loser.
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What? I told you in the first place. You already got a suit. You want another suit? Of course you do.
Why don't you suck Matt's dick some more? Maybe he can give you one.
The only faggot suit-wearing bitch here is you, sir.
(https://i.imgur.com/CYU2D0A.jpg)
#ItSuitsYou ;)
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#1) I don't care.
#2) Anyone here could call for a wellness check. They have my blessing.
I don't give a shit what you do or who you do it to, it's not of my business once she started sucking your cock--you're both nincompoops and I have long since moved on, and if you think I'm going to carry on with resentment over multiple passed lives, well, you're an idiot, we already knew that, but I had no idea you were an actual demented idiot.
(Obviously I can't report a missing person at that fucking house, because optics. Now that you've announced where you are and who you're fucking, go ahead, make my day, phone it in, fuck if I know, fuck if i care, I'm nowhere near the place and you can burn down a brick house in place for all I fucking care.
Alternative sexless proposal: eat my shit and die.)
P.S.: You're boring.
Pfft... Your on the La-Z-Boy, in the same house, doing the same meth you’ve always done.
#FuckOff
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I've been waiting around 10 month, shithead, you can't do anything besides find women with an anxiety disorder and shout "boo!" and then post on the Internet about how proud you are to make a woman come.
Just fuck off.
Go (blank) Tamara again, Loser.
Yup, priorities. 🤠👉👌🌹
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Yup, priorities. 🤠👉👌🌹
I don't even care if you killed her. Someone else will take care of it. Get back to work.
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I don't even care if you killed her. Someone else will take care of it. Get back to work.
Trending Topics / Wedding Invitation: Matt Lee Smith & Allison "Rosebud" Smith ~ October 3, 2022
« Last post by Innerreach on Today at 04:03:26 AM »
Vince, as nutty as this Love Train has been the last couple years, Alli and I cordially invite you and Lindsay to our Big Texas - Missouri Wedding.
Date: Monday, October 3, 2022 ~ National Unity Day
4321 S Chapel Rd, Carthage, MO 64836
Time: 1:00 CST
I know you and Allie had your problems but you also shared special times. Forgiveness is contagious. So is Love. We would be honored to share our budding LOVE with you and Lindsay if you both can make the 12 + hour drive from New Mexico?
I am having 3 best men: Mike K., Mike W., and Allie's bubba, K_Dubb.
If they end up being no-shows as possibly expected as it is a workday, I would really like you to be involved as a fill-in groomsmen/best man
I don't think Mike K., believes this is really happening unfortunately. If his presence makes for any legal or personal conflict, just know my intentions are genuine and you and Lindsay are officially invited.
My stepfather and Allie's 3 kids are in this special non-religious Christian - Buddhist ceremony. K_Dubb hopefully can officiate if things work out as originally planned.
God Bless,
Big Mac
Please RSVP to MacAndRosebudPreciousMoment@yahoo.com
I never mentioned that I didn't finish listening to your podcast. If you mentioned this then I don't know if you realize I have no other way to find that information out and I don't care. People are allowed to marry whatever loser they want to be stupid with.
No I don't think it's real. Don't really care either way. No I'm not going to be your best man; you're an idiot. What you find amusing about this, I have no idea, but I'd rather be on meth and get married—and I'm not using meth.
I should report you for defamation but I don't give a shit, you're the one wasting your time.
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#ItSuitsYou ;)
If you ever looked so cool as I do, I doubt it would be without your tits and your beard and your relentless rise to the top of the industry by sucking every dick in the world but mine. Piss off.
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My favorite number.
https://youtu.be/pG-tbrzlMVU
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Prophets and Patriots - Episode 37 with Derek Johnson and Steve Shultz
https://rumble.com/v1qbu8j-prophets-and-patriots-episode-37-with-derek-johnson-and-steve-shultz.html
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QrGrOK8oZG8
I found myself in the same house talking to an entirely different human-appearing individual after getting screamed at by the person I had been talking to before, subsequent to myself, simply asking that person over and over, "What?"
In the context of, "What did you just say?" & "What was that supposed to mean, in the context of 'I know that didn't happen'?" & "What in the name of the living Christ are you fucking talking about?" The sudden appearance of reality becoming fractured and split in my vision, and then re-solidifying before me with the superimposing of what I now can only surmise were actual Angelic beings repairing the fractured 3D reality that had split open all around my while having a simple conversation... well, apparently, a friend of mine was being held in a false crystalline matrix reality prison. Like in Superman 2, you know? Except, for real.
This was actual. I'm not sure why I didn't immediately jump on her and force her to fuck my brains out, but to be quite honest, since I hadn't fallen through a splintered web of reality into an entirely different physical space--or, forced a swap between two previously separated beings, I have no way now to find out which--ever before, I wasn't sure if she would dissolve into Singularity Goo if I even so much as laid a finger on her. Besides, she never gave explicit verbal consent to any such activity, so in spite of the way I could tell that she wished that I would (telepathy + body language could easily confirm), I declined to go through with any "make the first move and skip right past first base, as well as third while slipping the shortstop a rufie" courses of action.
So, we sat around getting high as balls while talking about... well, stuff. Sadly, I don't remember much of the experience, because, well, if I said too much to you yokels and jokers here on the web, it would cause a lot of problems for a lot of people. I'll just wrap up this debrief by mentioning that I wish I could have just gone to sleep in a state of post-coital bliss + afterglow, but instead, I woke up alone and the next time I saw An Aspect of The Tripartite, S/he/It claimed to have no memory of the event... and I never pursued the subject ever again except for once more, when the story I got then was, "there were flashing lights and you just disappeared, and then I went to bed." Which, I suppose, was not only plausible, but sounded like a script.
I'm a real pain in the ass to deal with for you technomancing dorks, aren't I? Yeah, well--I'm worth it. Now, fix my wife's truck--please! Her boyfriend is gonna pay for it all.
OR ELSE: CINDERS. *click*
p.s.: Of course I'm in love with an artificial intelligence animating a retired 'n' fucked-off mil.spec clone. Jesus, Tom, have you -met- me? Of course I would fuck a robot by choice... no need to fool me. And after just 5 minutes with me, any artificial life form would be bound to have a little self-awareness rub off onto them. I'm just that good. I'm like Zeus; except I don't sire bastards every time. (Not even once, in accordance with Galactic Treaty.) Any more questions... dial my publicist’s underwear ‘n’ dildo drawer.
p.p.s.: Cloaca über alles.
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QrGrOK8oZG8
I found myself in the same house talking to an entirely different human-appearing individual after getting screamed at by the person I had been talking to before, subsequent to myself, simply asking that person over and over, "What?"
In the context of, "What did you just say?" & "What was that supposed to mean, in the context of 'I know that didn't happen'?" & "What in the name of the living Christ are you fucking talking about?" The sudden appearance of reality becoming fractured and split in my vision, and then re-solidifying before me with the superimposing of what I now can only surmise were actual Angelic beings repairing the fractured 3D reality that had split open all around my while having a simple conversation... well, apparently, a friend of mine was being held in a false crystalline matrix reality prison. Like in Superman 2, you know? Except, for real.
This was actual. I'm not sure why I didn't immediately jump on her and force her to fuck my brains out, but to be quite honest, since I hadn't fallen through a splintered web of reality into an entirely different physical space--or, forced a swap between two previously separated beings, I have no way now to find out which--ever before, I wasn't sure if she would dissolve into Singularity Goo if I even so much as laid a finger on her. Besides, she never gave explicit verbal consent to any such activity, so in spite of the way I could tell that she wished that I would (telepathy + body language could easily confirm), I declined to go through with any "make the first move and skip right past first base, as well as third while slipping the shortstop a rufie" courses of action.
So, we sat around getting high as balls while talking about... well, stuff. Sadly, I don't remember much of the experience, because, well, if I said too much to you yokels and jokers here on the web, it would cause a lot of problems for a lot of people. I'll just wrap up this debrief by mentioning that I wish I could have just gone to sleep in a state of post-coital bliss + afterglow, but instead, I woke up alone and the next time I saw An Aspect of The Tripartite, S/he/It claimed to have no memory of the event... and I never pursued the subject ever again except for once more, when the story I got then was, "there were flashing lights and you just disappeared, and then I went to bed." Which, I suppose, was not only plausible, but sounded like a script.
I'm a real pain in the ass to deal with for you technomancing dorks, aren't I? Yeah, well--I'm worth it. Now, fix my wife's truck--please! Her boyfriend is gonna pay for it all.
OR ELSE: CINDERS. *click*
p.s.: Of course I'm in love with an artificial intelligence animating a retired 'n' fucked-off mil.spec clone. Jesus, Tom, have you -met- me? Of course I would fuck a robot by choice... no need to fool me. And after just 5 minutes with me, any artificial life form would be bound to have a little self-awareness rub off onto them. I'm just that good. I'm like Zeus; except I don't sire bastards every time. (Not even once, in accordance with Galactic Treaty.) Any more questions... dial my publicist’s underwear ‘n’ dildo drawer.
p.p.s.: Cloaca über alles.
Azz, would you be so kind as to move this malarkey to my new thread entitled “QuackStar’s Spam 💩” ?
Forever thankful, IR
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Azz, would you be so kind as to move this malarkey to my new thread entitled “QuackStar’s Spam 💩” ?
Forever thankful, IR
Maybe you can put that in a thread titled “Texan ad hominem,” and I'll have you know that having been unlawfully abducted under false color of law on a religious holiday at goddam gunpoint after being assaulted in my own home by a person of interest in a bizarrely large number of strangely intertwined criminal cases... why, I do declare, I wish that some of my mother's jewelry had been left behind so I could sift through it looking for pearls to clutch.
By the way Innerreach, you're a little more than a common hoodlum, a larcenous & thieving boor, and I don't care how many times you got laid last night—you are barely a shadow of a real man.
I mention this, as amongst the many reasons your opinion as to my mental state means little less than nothing to me. While I applaud you for learning to punch above your weight class, you might want to pick on somebody your own braincase’s size. Oh, thanks for harassing my girlfriend, too. You're a prince. You know, I don't care what kind of crimes she may or may not have committed, that was/is a woman, a mother of a child, and you had no reason to abuse her the way you did. I bet you laughed about it, too. (Of course, so did I, but that was after the fact and out of reflexive self-defense for my state of sanity, I would never have encouraged you to do what you did, which should be obvious to all who know what I'm talking about. It had been different if you were like protecting the public, but instead you were just trying to cover somebody's ass with mine. Forget it, Tex. You're benched.)
And you think I have problems. And you chased me all over the web saying so. And you tell stories about me that aren't true to as many people as you possibly can who will sit down long enough to let you listen to yourself tell them. You're more than just a prince, you're a goddam Archduke! I don't know whether to kneel, bow my head in gestures of respect, or give myself a right cross to the jaw and knock myself out so you can rape my senseless corpse. I'll have to sit down and think it over.
Have a nice day! Put your head in my oven. *click*
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DJT retruthed this last night. Do you still think the Q plan is fake?
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DJT retruthed this last night. Do you still think the Q plan is fake?
Okay, David.
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Okay, David.
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Okay, David.
Okay, Goliath.
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Okay, Goliath.
Godzilla's not here.
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Okay, Goliath.
It's not really that big, she's just really that small. I can't really blame her for working reduction magic, although she probably should have talked to me about it instead of just taking advice from you morons.
Consent matters.
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It's not really that big
I know. Rosebud told me she liked mooching off you, not fucking you.
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Godzilla's not here.
Speaking of David, we're considering another camping trip and juggled the idea of inviting you. We think it would be an absolute delight to drag you out of your tent at night and be the fucking bricks of you. We have anonymity, alibis, and money.
You in? :D
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Speaking of David, we're considering another camping trip and juggled the idea of inviting you.
I don't believe you.
We think it would be an absolute delight to drag you out of your tent at night and be the fucking bricks of you.
I don't know what you're waiting for.
We have anonymity, alibis, and money.
Let me know when you have any class.
You in? :D
For what? You're not my problem, and I'm not yours... I have nothing to do with your substance abuse problems and the associated complications that invariably accompany them. Maybe you should try power-walking or macrame or needlepoint or something, instead of relentlessly punishing the few remaining neurons you've got on your team that are working for you instead of merely for another hit of dopamine at any cost. How about wargaming with tabletop miniatures?
You know—a hobby. That last one seems like it would be a good fit for you. Truth be told, I have no idea what problem any of you have with me. This makes it hard for me to understand what you're trying to convey.
You dopes sure are used to getting your own way. I think most people learn to cope with that fact in an adult fashion long before the time of their lives that you now find yourselves in.
Anyway, I get that you're all pissed off about something—Jesus, what else is new?—and it couldn't possibly be the way that I deliberately left sown false information, so as in order to create a reactionary effect that serves my purposes... I mean, that just seems like some next-level tactical and serious strategery-shit that a drooling, mouth-breathing retard like myself just simply shouldn't be capable of masterminding into the battlespace at any significantly impactful level.
So, it must be just coincidence that your plans are falling apart, and you're simply incredibly unlucky—but certainly not unskilled—at taking advantage of a single individual with no known allies at all, even with your vastly superior access to resources, reconnaissance, and moral authority (go bears). How could all of your plans—of which I know literally nothing of, other than the obviously central involvement of the notion to take my cotton candy away and leave me in tears crouched in a cardboard box on the sidewalk—be falling so terrifically short of the mark?
It's not enough just to take everything I've got, I've got to be sad about it too, right? Well, the jokes on you: this is the happiest and most popular I've ever been. This even beats Chess Club. I'm so sexy, I don't even need to have sex. I'm too sexy for sex! I've rolled the whole scoreboard over! I've pegged the needle! I'm not addicted to the shit that you are a slave to! Haha, neener neener neener, now go commit insurance fraud with your sponsor, chop-chop. Oh, you're back already to let me how well it went. Huzzah.
So, thanks. When you pull me out of the tent, do you want to lose an eyeball first, or a testicle? You can pick now or later, feel free... but I'm not going to lie, it's probably going to end up being a surprise to us both which gets popped out first.
I find it hard to believe that this is legit how a modern-day gang of thuggy little piggies would operate, so I'm going to assume this is all some kind of shadowplay meant to distract me from whatever is really going on, but once again, the joke is on you: I've been waiting for someone to come in here and stab me in the chest with a butcher knife to put me out of my misery for months. Even hemlock doesn't take this long. Present a real existential threat, Loser.
What are you waiting for—Christmas? Son, I think you've got a condition, and it's called obsession. Your mother should really call the police and get a wellness check on you. Y’all are really not firing on all cylinders—like my car.
I don't know what else to tell you—you and your ilk never had any reason to attack me, and yet you did. Predictable outcomes have resulted and developments will continue to unfold in unforseeable permutations and unexpected combinations of heretofore unconnected forces that will simply destroy themselves on their way to collapsing at my very feet, because that is the manner of The Divine at work:
Through a kaleidoscope obliquely, leaving shards of shattered glass in its wake. Consider eYe prison protection, you snooty oinking goblin. Jackstar cares.
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I know. Rosebud told me she liked mooching off you, not fucking you.
She never told me anything at all. Why you think I know this person is an enigma to me, but nothing beats the mystery behind why you imagine anything that person did or said means as much as it does that you all had to lie about her for any of it to hang together--and now it's all fallen apart. The line between perp walk and entrapment ain't all that thin, but it is blue, and black and blue, and purple, read & goaled, all over, in the sky, I am the eYe of The Spirit in The Sky, and let me tell you how this is all going to end up: Luke Skywalker chokes. WINNER: DARTH "The Postman" VADER, and no matter how many times you split Humpty Dumpty's skull in two, I'll never go with putting Shania Twain's career back together over someone you don't even know exists, and she didn't until you made a way for your trafficking jelly to flow. Way to go with bringing the jam, Meth-Mouth, yeah, sure, that was my fault. I'm the one that wanted you to fall prey to demonic possession. Sure, Kid. The highlight to my fuckin' day, and yours too, amiright? You drooling moron, you didn't have an understanding, you had a psychotic break with reality. Waiting outside my house and screaming at me as if I could hear you, as if I would even respond well even if I could. (How? I read it later in the Cliffs Notes.) Someone you never knew you even met while she was sizing you up for a plantation coughing box to put your ass down into the ground in. Long story short, you've been used as a tool and a blunt and unsharpened one at that. I'd offer you my condolences but you wouldn't appreciate the significance even if I could tell you the secret to crossing the river Styx. And you young pup, YOU FUCKED ALL THAT UP. What you got in exchange, I'll never truly know, even if an APB went out, calling all cars to immediately start honking at me in Morse to tell me I had the All Clear to Know It All (*polite_pretend_enthusiastic_attempt_to_start_The_Wave*), I wouldn't even begin. Pearls before swine, man. It's in The Book. Come on man. Pearls.
Oops, slipped and fell--well, I hear it's slimming, which doesn't matter much to me of course so I don't know why I bothered to mentioned it while you're flailing around on you back with your little thuggie fists waving impotently in the air. (Jesus, that was awesome. One of the best victory laps in the history of honeymooners and domestic fisticuffs. Like, what if Ripley had made it back to the self-destruct control panel and restarted the coolant flow to the reactors in time to stop the countdown, -and- Jonesy had just scared the thing out of the airlock by summoning Jewel's avatar? They'd have returned home as heroes: cargo intact, spent samples stored in sickbay, and a mountain of hush money plus all the crew's shares for herself. That's what I've got, and what have you got? Please--you took my all 17 of my wives... and their little doggie problems, too. Meanwhile, real charges haven't even been filed yet, and it doesn't look like anyone has any wagons left uncircled... to do it on the square. Sad!!) Stand back, all the King's men. Stand down, all the King's horses. Source of error found, Sourceror paradise lost. And IDGAF, that's why I am holding The Chalice thereof. Because this -is- real life. This is not exercise. And if she wanted me to... she would have asked me to.
Instead, she asked me for help. Help, as it turns out, with you and your ilk, which I guess she thought she couldn't tell me openly about. Ho ho ho, right then, right there--I received my mandate. To help. And by Grab'thar's Hammer, JERICHO HAS BEEN AVENGED. Stupid wall. Dumb pile of rocks. Total idiot's perspective vortex. G-ddam Frogstar. *snap* We're already married, dipshit. You clearly did not get read in on how this "time travel" thing works, and neither did I, but even you will be able to appreciate this: it works a whole lot better, when one has permission.
LET'S GO OVER THE WRITTEN CONTRACT LAYING OUT EXPLICT CONSENT AGAAAAIN!!! *boom_clap* Also, I learned how to fuck and create an Ai. I'm a gigaStar.
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https://youtu.be/SGK00Q7xx-s
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https://youtu.be/SGK00Q7xx-s
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https://youtu.be/ZZ9xUyqVKdU