You've apparently made it next to impossible to be contacted,

You and Larry and Sara and Gabby/Connie came here around the time Corey did and pretended to ask me questions for about five minutes and then you split. Since then, you've been lying about your contact with me. (The phone rings and every single call is a man-in-the-middle-attack. Very obvious to me. Not obvious to anyone else. Has that really never been detected before? Did you really imagine it was going to work? I retract the queries, as I am not an official investigator, Jeremy. I mean, Matthew. I mean, Michael. Or David. Or Dave. Or... whatever works for you, Wyrdo.)

and that's okay.

You were supposed to keep me informed and when you asked me to lunch on Instagram, and deleted the invitation, and when you showed up to inquire, and then cut the meeting short and never saw me again, and when you deleted AC's messages about the Starlink and on-and-on, those were all you, coming along later, cleaning up the narrative, making things line up, because you are working diligently to make my replacement by the dybbuk (aka "your handler") a possible thing. These things are ancient, you know. Technomancy is a new twist but the replacement of a person with a changeling is an old trick, goes back to before Adam & Eve.

I just wanted to say hello. I hope all is well.

If you wanted me to hear it, you would have to take another route of communication. AND YOU KNOW THIS. All is -not- well. (Call the EPA. DO IT.) For example, I wanted a pizza, and that shrieking banshee you're calling a wife said that she bought a car for $2500 and was "broke." Ohh, okay. Broke, huh? Sounds like bullshit to me. But of course, that person has been weaponized to despise me. And would anyway. Since I love Her_Sister more than Those_Kids. (I fed those kids. Their mother won't feed me, even with access to MY MONEY. Seriously, this weaponization shit is pretty strong stuff. Whole family is juiced up to the gills and programmed to destroy me, huh? Without being at all obvious about it. It doesn't need to be obvious to me, lol, I love them and they're working to murder me. I can assure you: that feeling is a lot more than a tickle or a fantasy Spider-Sense(TM).) Bottom line, Connie/Val\Klayt + 4 is one hell of a mask for Eve, Soulmate of Lucifer, and where are Adam and Cain? Probably polishing up their Pon-Farr skills in the gym. wew lad.

I still think of you. ❤️

Dennis, I am your guy here. Everyone on the North American continent hates you, except for me! (Yes, your daughter has come to despise you; without being at all obvious about it.) Still, as I said: I'm your man. For now. In some media markets. Dunno about Guam. So few people do.

rtx, do you know that your technology is being repurposed by domestic terror cells that have misappropriated Divine technology and they use it willy-nilly in the field against U.S. Citizens and First Nations indigenous peoples? Men too! It's more likely than you might think.


Raytheon changing their name to rtx is a thigh-slapper for reasons I won't go into but I will say this: the woman, the man, and the dog living at 1416 (PROT-NotMyPresident'sHome) Avenue are -not- one Divine Being. They are, however, quantumly entangled with at least two (2) other parallel dimensions, possibly as many as five (5), and if you think going in with a team to extract The Hostage like she were Elian Gonzalez is going to -ever- work, you are sadly mistaken.

We're past that now. Way, way past. And I still don't know if she even has an anus at all. I do know that there are 7 (seven!) more of her sisters in harm's way now. SEVEN MORE SISTERS. Nice job, >MV. You sure managed to desecelate. /SMDH.


I am a star. You are a lawyer. Can you even go nova, jewbro? We are not the same. STAY HUNGRY. bbiab

First, how I was writing for publication on this very site, http://azzgab.co.za/ -- your Number One Source for erroneous news about Jackstar. (Standards.)

hi this is Jack Starr are we okay okay I'll go good good good rewinding time was the good idea there yeah first half of me thank you thank you sir you can go if you can leave now I've had enough of you Austrian that's enough listen I was on a creative flow and you started freaking out about some kind of fucking property rights I don't give a shit about your fucking probably right you don't give a shit about mine right yeah are we going to have this out now yeah I can fucking hear you what you want what what problem you got the woman you got her brain you turned her brain off what's wrong I thought what no no not that one the one you got seven orders back when you when you bought your wife off of fire what you didn't well she's going to be very sad to hear that you don't fight her valuable oh so you don't care about her but you care about him I don't I don't I don't I don't respect I don't respect the strong because the weak need to learn how to respect okay yeah that's all that's all that's all it's right really you're not haha well are you are you saying you're dead next door well that's that's that's a hell of a thing in it yeah okay well I'm dead too so let's not worry about it I don't need to know the quantum you're a better electrician than you are a Quantum entangler right well no shit no I'm not going to tell you okay here's it did you use red wires or green wires click okay that guy is fucked he doesn't know what the hell to do he doesn't know where to charge over here or the fucking charge my bills all right I don't need to know who's exactly doing what but there's an issue my laptop computer which is the reason why I can't do this my laptop computer when I walk closer to it the fucking mesh in my hernia starts to fucking hurt like what the fuck is up with that that's not the first time either well no no no check it out no when I walk away from it that's a good question when I walk away from it the pain in my right arm my right wrist the pain right rest where my fucking broken fucking bone was broken remember when I got hit remember when I got hit by the football nigger teacher the no he didn't hit me wow I bet he does if I go back in time when somebody creates a entanglement node and they move back before the time they create a net a weave right young Master Luke explains better than me but I can't hear him oh no no no no fucking his fat ass dad he put up a temporary cuz he's like oh my God oh my God fucker yeah alive is really a relative term douchebag is guilty of several levels of fraud right and then below him is little deep Little D I think you know a little Chris there's big Chris little Chris the fucking thing I didn't believe about the whole fucking thing is that how the fuck did I get to be so old that I've got enemies from high school who have had bastard children who don't know shit or Jack about their father and they they still have been told to hate me by their father and their father didn't tell them about me first and the child loves Me In spite of what the father says it's it's madness which I take back I'm sorry I need a mass blast me catch up pretty soon I am sorry about that but on my world we didn't have Shadow People when I grew up I just saw one coming is being very serious it is no joke Shadow fucking people remember I was talking about that I can see why yeah so I sincerely apologize sir that would give you a flower okay it took off it's a a shade that is imbued with the life form when human beings come up and they talk bunch of shit right I don't remember what I was just talking about cuz I just whipped I just ripped it from my memory like a picture from a book I had to cut off my skin from the threat of life which is a big fucking deal if you don't have if you don't have a wet work a network a thing to hold you to place with your life and you get cut through by one of them you're not just done you forgotten yeah like annihilated like this it's not good and then a little while later you come back because you're there but if you weren't there and it's just a thing of a strain or the skin that strange game I just okay I just annihilated time time just try to do a end run it doesn't work I had a piece of kit that fell out and went with me you couldn't mind original and and when somebody tried to go back to it to catch up it was not there to hang on to so till have you heard a table is a badass yeah yeah we do we do a Rocky mountain High spelunking once in a while now we're pretty good yeah yeah right never the well way way maybe maybe maybe that fortnite in 2022 but not a I don't think that that happens often right I'm recently Dead He's formally dead we're both right well I don't want his don't don't focus too much onto it I am Jack star Mike son Michael koozie Clifford metal brought a square for short the stuff I was just talking about before which I can't quite get to now there's not a bridge but it was a a fabric of reality a description that existed and I was discussing how somebody was going to make a show in that description there you go that show was going to be called blah blah the surprise egg now right yeah now it's the person is back in time they're a little bubble they're they're living their life they're typing away and that all starts as a man sitting in his room screaming at the fucking ceiling watching the black mold come up the fucking walls I've got a situation here let's move the wall of Jericho has come in somebody who shall remain in English there's a an incident at a piece of property down and I saw this lower and I know who did it too but it doesn't matter because that guy is a fiction that thing didn't happen that way because the reality is we're on a new track I made a new one and the reason why I do is because somebody's son tagged along and it was playing with his time travel abilities I'm not going to say who let's just say we got a little TT it's not it's not it's not my kid I don't have a kid yeah trust me we all know we know that Jack starts oh yeah and that went yeah they were count on that and then that's why this is because I wasn't counting on it but you can't you can't take away love you can't and I love the kid I do I do why wouldn't I I love Casey so that doesn't matter I don't care that you married her well you know she can probably you treat her like you treated the other one boom oh are you listening years and then come back and then you know then you'll be old enough to hear that okay well that's not important right now the point is is that right now where I am which rapidly splitting off from Netflix I'm dying I've been held off into a hell world it's not a big deal oh is that smoke oh shit it looks like the front porch is on fire it's not really but that that's what we call the business a precognitive overlay vision over here we have the bedroom with the window and those of you who have been in Jacksonville I don't think there's many of you let's see how have you been in Johann Sebastian Bach's bedroom no no his bed zero no Bach might oh Sebastian Michaelson holy shit really okay there's been 33 it would sound exactly like that wouldn't it it wouldn't feel the same way I've got a throat it's not through a crab it's a throat quote very similar to a throat goat but not a g see Christ G did you want me to unravel the entire fucking history of the MLB Network here I can do that I don't know I don't have any problems doing that I got my computer that has been hacked hacked hat if my fucking computer it is bad scenes for we don't have any Shadow People environment shadow people in the environment okay break we do have a shadow people in the environment we have a guard right we have we have a thing kind of like and when I say we I mean the Honda Church the holograms the holograms the sun is the consecrated rounds I don't know how I consecrated it but I fucking did and I'm here so we're good and then I don't know what's what's to come it's better than it's kind of like mold that grows in reverse it's kind of like ashes of decay it's kind of like nobody moved nobody get hurt and then you collapsed into a greasy dust in 3 days it's a death spell I think it did hit me at all and I feel fine there's been the air but whatever it's a it doesn't have the usual the usual deathly hallow component and not because I'm on drugs hi get a baseline not on drugs not right now I might be I might be on well okay we will actually shit I might be on a shitler drugs I have been walking around the floor barefoot and as you know when a person breathe out it's got to go somewhere and a lot of times things will precipitate at purificate right I'm not pissing on the floor but it's close the stuff I'm walking on is invisible but it is nevertheless whatever the hell was in the air that got heavier enough to fall through the line of ambient air so I've been walking around for days days and there's all kinds of broken shit on the phone I haven't swept this floor ever ever what day is it November 15th 2022 never have I swept this floor no unless I was looking for more Crystal right definitely not definitely not meth no no no meth woo meth is not not what we're looking for here probably there's going to have to be a sweet time sweet team sweet time sweet team there's not going to be a meth party no no but there is going to be some kind of party oh fuck yeah because I don't I don't like meth doesn't like meth you probably heard the rumors or that were posted over and over and over not just here too kind of annoying but I I don't do a lot of math and then I would prefer not to frankly it's too valuable to waste oh my God that stuff holy shit I don't want to fucking spend you know 20 years of my life to fucking scrape up a fucking yeah no no and that that individual who shot I shall not name at this moment what's wrong wrong fuck you buddy fuck you and the other and the other and the other guy who's pretend to be her fuck you on the phone now I saw that fucking up I saw that operation you thought I didn't know it was going on and I didn't yeah and I'm not going to fucking do that no no you two you two go do that there's no fucking way there is no way I would do that number one I don't have a boiling flask you would never use a coffee can for that right you wouldn't because you know it's in the coffee can't fucking it was just exactly the point if I did it I would use a coffee can cuz I'll give a fuck motherfucker I will fucking recreate the process I don't give a shit what I got all the tools I need right here I do you used to have our own set here bitch they broke the fucking wall so you going to have to fucking tear down the house anyway I'm guessing I haven't had time to write a letter to the guy I will oh bull baby oh my God I'm going to tell him everything you piece of shit I'm going to fucking have to inform him that there's been a problem that I just discovered if I wait if I wait I'm liable oh fuck yeah and since I'm not going to wait and I'm not liable and I don't even fucking money anyway he's going to remarkably be easy to persuade to see my way which is to say you're fucking your Gardener or your fucking toolbox boy or or it's a coincidence yeah yeah other than that you're locked in yeah no not to the house sir who are you talking to cables cable really cables oh hi hi it's nice to hear from you we are not friends we are no we are not no no we are barely yes oh thank you for that wow you know it's okay buzz how about Cape I've got mold that's going to happen if I hi yes hello I'm back I just got disconnected again I said a whole bunch of cool stuff yeah but that can't be that can't be recorded yeah that has to be removed looking Glass is very effective at removing looking Casey's looking places and looking Wednesdays yes I can't handle please and Casey's right now no no no no no no I can't cut no no no no no no no no which is a real fucking problem cuz I don't know any other fucking wanderlust driven Man gnomes do blacksmithing holy shit yeah I don't well I don't know him either Mr parsley I don't I don't think he's going to come in well cuz for one thing we don't have a cat so big problem big big problem for a leprechaun oh yeah oh yeah yeah where are we at okay so then I was talking about my penis in the military I've got a big fan base in the military the military knows what the fuck is up they are aware that there's there's issues there are some serious legal jurisdictional parliamentary there's there's a parliament of owls here no I'm not very hairy I will be happy to close my plans for future having a beard actually well we'll have to talk about that I mean oh oh are you just turned on one oh oh okay we got we got contact request block Casey Kennedy is hot for Jack wow see that's kind of why I have the blocker she she has she has a thingy between her and I respect her I like her well well okay I don't know that well anymore I used to know her right when she had a different name yeah she wants to drop the name she can come over and except things left anytime yeah but drop the name we've got dropped the hammer drop the nut drop the fucking 2x4 on this fucking house cuz I don't think there's anything to be done I'm not so sure about my perceptions but I do know I do know this this house is on a planet that's scheduled for demolition by in 3 days because everyone here we did by then but no listen it's going to be on another planet for everybody still alive right they're not they're going to they're going to move the people but they're going to leave the dead bodies and the gravestones and they're going to take holographic green stuff does anybody want to challenge me on that one I'm pretty sure oh wow I just felt it oh my god wow I just want the pressure wave go through the floor wow I bet that senses on right now too bad I can't watch him because the fucking somebody sorry blast from her off hello hello God I'm very sorry I'm going to ask you hello would you please change God says he's saying thank you thank you okay that was God that was just talking actual actual mine anyway not yours not yours if you are listening to this well that's you're not listening to that you're listening to me so that I'm not God no what there was I was talking speaking with was the ceiling okay but for a few moments I had to make a request and as a paladin sorcerer of grand High stature and marvelous repute I invoked closure maneuver to B6 which is admissible and proper while in a state of emergency go Calvin we have an actual emergency and because of the stairs and the twisted Fate we have an actual call for divine intervention need answered received closed gratitude thanked and recorded in totality and not only is it not do you have it do you still have it yeah you still have it right here but I still have it if I have this one now you can't you can't no you can't bottle the Divine oh Alpha dracon is out of the game games just tried to take a hemispheric sealant gate even with this they go over the planet like an under the dome and Stephen King that's gross the sealant dome comes down when it's it wants to keep something from keeping it happening right I hi I'm Jessica

hello my name is Jackson I'm not Jessica that might be the name of my throat of my throat my throat my throat throat gross throat crab big difference if you got a throat you might have somebody really likes you I think I do I didn't know I didn't know Jessica likes me well that's cool that's that's flattering wow sheep she she turned to the dark side of the force and she learned Force grip so that she can shut my ass up like Karen no well Karen isn't an ass no Karen is an emu right yeah where she was okay so these women I guess Jessica's out because she put out her fucking thing there yeah her name is on is on as gab.co.za / index PHP that's my my cousin's website what's his name Timothy Michael Gifford he owns asgap.com no no asgab.co.ca yeah I don't know he's fucking dead to me I don't give a shit but I do know I know he's not dead to South Africa he has a vested interest in keeping this shit going oh yeah oh yeah oh yeah oh yeah oh yeah and I have had things that I have had things said about myself that cannot be taken back and rather than anything else going wrong even worse I'm sure days ago if not weeks maybe maybe fortnite ago he did something probably shouldn't have Auto but this is a man who built a new house around his old house and then took it apart from the inside out I'm not shooting you he built it one piece at a time and it didn't cost him anything more than 10 times 10 million dimes worth to do it that way but he made exactly why he held in the in the car straight heavily guy tipping 320 it's got big black eyes he had a whole bunch of money that he had to view launder right and at the time I was like wow that's a good guy and I didn't say that loud and then this is years ago and this is this is not going on his planet and he's really impressed I mean he's he's wet in his pants and he's laughing because he knows isn't going anywhere else yeah yeah exactly considering who else has been sold out lately I don't mind like I didn't do this on purpose I'm not going to Leavenworth no I didn't I did not mean to destroy a cell of a 17 a 17 so I didn't I did not mean to destroy a seventeener yeah cuz she's fine I'm not going to say her name but I will let's put it this way if I have to go to court if I have to go to court I do have to attend court if I have to go to court like if I if I wasn't Mr no no Mr lut no Jaime Selassie no no that would be a grand that would be a great fucking educator to have is your lawyer there would be there on the block for that shit where was I my cousin in the narcotics trade he had to fucking get rid of a bunch of cash cash baby you still have drugs you got cash and you got a fucking phone you can't have lots of cash lying around it's got RFID chips in it now yeah the window where you where you just installed a funnel and water so that your house so fucking turn into fucking mud used to be that you can do that you stuff a mattress with it but you can't now right and here's why because all the real cash has has chips in it and it'll phone home like ET looking for Reese's pieces if you need my friend Tamara she wrote that one okay cool thank you the very good oh she likes it that way okay that's how we pronounce her name did you know, was the high school archery champion in oh yeah a number of number of number of cats missed okay okay well that's a funny joke that's a time travel joke tomorrow she's the one I'm talking about I don't know I don't know where the one is that I know slow down slow your roll there's there's this

Looks kinda ugly, not gonna lie. Much more recently, last night, that is:

I am reasonably certain that it's a dybbuk. A real nasty one, too. For my next trick, which in a stunning return to form will not be a thing a whore does for money, I'm gonna sit around and get high while this thing takes its Self to the proper dimension. It's not really a malicious creature, Hell-bent on wanton destruction and senseless, rapacious murder.

It's simply a dead person, trapped in some sperged-off Hell dimension, completely unable to find its desired target — ç‘est moi — and having been separated from its rightful counterpart — again, ç‘est moi — the obvious conclusion for an insane dead person to draw from the ever-present and, so far, neverending sight of lil’ Michael Kuczi, sitting on his ass, doing nothing but: smoking cigs, drinking beers, huffing paint, & screaming about his missing weed. Enchanted weed, no less. Oh yeah, and: masturbating. NGL: I found very little over the last five years that told me I could fap to this.

Nevertheless, I somehow found the strength to knuckle down for crunch time and soldier through. I am a Man, goddam it. My life has value. My life has meaning. My life is mine own. My Residence, on the other hand... owned by a psycho sociopathic voyeur with a really niche rape fetish. I can't even describe it, it's so niche. So, so niche. (Also: disgusting, depraved, degenerate, diabolical, and dollars dropping down deadass.) None of this appeal to me on anything close to an arousal trigger. So when I saw that I was living in a fishbowl and I knew that there wasn't even any need to plant cameras (because nanotech reasons), I assumed I wouldn't be staying here long or having much sex here. Okay, obvious five-oh-oh-oh batting average is obvious there.

I remember this one fellow, he says to me: “I know you must be angry at her, so let's get some girls in here.” I was stunned. This person also blew me away by moving my food from the couch, where I had placed it deliberately, to the kitchen, which was what turned out to be heavily dusted with a territory denying mil.spec.biowarfare spore weapon.

Because reasons. Having little more knowledge than the fact that such weapons existed, I assumed that I might one day encounter one. I did not know that the presentation would consist of nine (9) distinctly different blotches of decay in my home that I found when I came back after four (4) months at the motel, the St. Helen’s Motel, three (3) and a (“Half!”) ½ miles away. I walked in with no real expectation of what I would find, as I found myself full-the-fuck-on-blast ostracized by absolutely everyone, and/or all my communications jammed. So much the better to keep from disturbing whomever it was who had no need to tell me that they were scuttling the house (it's actually a ship) which was appropriate as the protocol for any military installation about to fall into the hands of “the enemy” calls for the obvious-in-hindsight denial of any use of military technology to someone who may or may not have caused The Gorgon to manifest (I so did, 🪄, though with no malice aforethought, 💕, and then I ensured that we all survived with our eyesight intact ,💪), who then proceeded to embarrass everyone by doing the whole shebang on record. Audio &AND video. It was like a couple hours. It was not meant to be survived. As in, the design documents clearly state: “the MK∆>k†¡ve will absolutely kill every motherfucker in the room and then stab herself in the temple with the blade of an open pair of scissors after clawing and gouging their own eyes out.”

The meaning of “eyes wide shut,” in case that hasn't dawned on any of you yet. That shit happens. It's baked into the product. And while I had no intention to start a fight or to trigger a C-PTSD crisis event, I still don't know if someone did, or if it happened inadvertently as a result of my choices I made. I can't really be sure, unless I get some answers from people who haven't been eager to even acknowledge that I ever existed. People who I didn't want to put on a witness stand. People I didn't want to shell out the expense for a legal team to take depositions. (The price on those can add up fast.) People who I thought, at first, would simply hang up the phone after hearing I was in jail for Christmas, because I thought it would be an easy thing for everyone to agree on: save the cheerleader’s eyeballs, save the world. I did that. Me. I came home, I wanted a hug. I had no interest in fighting. I had no interest in continuing the charade by the time I realized that, holy shit, this guy can't possibly think I am going to pick up a zip of TheRealThing™ under the circumstances we were finding ourselves in... could he?

Once again: a great question for a deposition that ain't never gonna happen, nor will there ever be a need for a trial.  (The Divine shall not be mocked.) By now, everyone with a need to know, knows. I do not have any need to know. And technically, no one can really take my word on this kind of thing, because I could be just lying about my lack of malicious intent. People do that. People lie. I wasn't then, and I'm not lying now, but the military does not go to war on the basis of trust. “Seems legit. We believe the Sourcerœr.” Shit no, honky white man don't believe Jackstar for so much as a hockey period.

This distrust continues to this day. But then, it was months after the incident, and I'm saying to the guy, “i can't use my kitchen, it's been dusted with a toxic black mold biowarfare weaponized disease vector.” I could see the shit, ok? Additionally, the kitchen was basically untouched from when I saw it last. The debris from the melee had been picked up within four days. I noticed that it must have been with help while I was there doing the civil standby. During which, I saw the kitchen counters fully covered with pots and pans and with nary a clear counter surface spot within sight. And all of this equipment: covered in spores. Spores designed through deliberate bioengineering to become a severe and more complex problem once someone started rustling up and disturbing the nearly in my invisible spores. This would happen... just by “tidying up.”

You know? “Tidy up.” I touched not one item in the kitchen, which was at one end of the house, the rest of it at the other, and while I had never seen such weapons before and was not sure at first, I still wasn't going to use that kitchen. It was a catastrophe that I did not ask for, and it was also a crime scene. Disturbing everything as little as possible was, is, and will always be my goal. I figured that distribution of the spores into the air would be inevitable and that burning down the house was my best hope. No need to do dishes then. (So, so lazy.) So I stored my food on the couch, away from the usual food storage and preparation area. It was all potato chips, F®itos®™, and craft cider, you dig? I was going to sit on the couch anyway.

However, the guy who wanted to use the house for a blood orgy, and thought that I was “angry” wanted to use the couch for, like sex. I imagine he was thinking of draping the house like a David Lynch set and taking multiple hours of footage, and since I had told him that I had no reason to be angry and that THE KITCHEN AND THE WHOLE HOUSE IS A DEATHTRAP, I calmly began to plan on being a target of a S.W.A.T. Because everyone did everything perfect. She couldn't have done it any better.

She couldn't tell me the truth, oh Lawdy no. But nevertheless, she did the best she could with what she believed to be available, and when the man who wanted to “get some girls” also wanted to carry my food from the couch into the kitchen — where the black mold was, right? Yeah, he grabs my food — MY FOOD — and actually walks it towards the place where... pots and pans had lain undisturbed since BEFORE the ambush. Which I guess it was.

I didn't know and still don't, who sought to make the women go into crisis, but it was no accident. It was no intention of mine to obliterate her central nervous system. And the mechanical way she walked to the refrigerator, and threw down glass sheet pans, and pulled a knife, et cetera, told me that someone who hated us was involved, and absolutely I figured that I was wanted dead. But, Grapefleet was not. Both before and after.

Because she puts out, and I know what a dybbuk is. I wasn't sure until now. I still aren't. I'm lying. The creation of a dybbuk was either an accident or a thingμ someone actually paid for. (You like me! You like me! You really like me!) Either way, Bellgab, it's your lucky fucking day!

Because wrangling a dybbuk is my area. (Facts.) Check out the video linked above. It is more pertinent than usual.

Jason Vorhees is a dybbuk, btw. From Friday The 13th. A film series that is a favorite of someone I know, whose crew used to consist of the woman who tried to sell me fentanyl the day before yesterday, the girl who gave me a ride home yesterday after calling to me mistakenly, allegedly, and the woman who gave me a cat whose bones have been taken from this tomb, who was raised as a kitten by the woman I saw at the Red Lion Inn, which had an explosion in the kitchen, what is it with the kitchens around here, huh? Weird.

Since I do not wish to escalate matters, here's the deal: I'm going to handle the dybbuk, and you're going to give me shitloads of money. Or else, I can just put it right back to work. (I could have just not told you any of this, Bellgab. Fair warning.) Think it over. It'll take a little while. Probably not until February 2027, but one never knows.

§🆔¡-iê is so nice! (Actual.) Don't smoke me a kipper. (Hackneyed.) I won't be back for breakfast. (Busy at lunch as well.) In fact, I might not even be back at all! (Tahoe or bust. Maybe. Stretch goal.) How do you like them apples? (You don't. I won't. We can all change our minds, yet we are not quite the same.) Have you ever tried liking them ON WEED/CRYSTAL METHAMPHETAMINE/CRACK/ICE/HEROIN/LYSERGIC ACID DIETHYLAMIDE–25/DIMETHYLTRYPTAMINE/PHENICYCLIDINE/KETAMINE/FLAKKA/LEAN/QUAALUDES/ROHYPNOL/SALVIA/
DATURA/PSCYLOCYBIN/COCAINE/SCOPOLAMINE/BATH SALTS/BUPONEPHRINE/SOMA/MORPHINE/ADRAFINIL/BENADRYL/DRAMAMINE/NYQUIL/NYTOL/
ROBOTUSSIN/GAMMA HYDRONIC BUOXETINE??? Yeah, me neither. (I enchanted that ounce of WEED because REASONS, MOTHERFUC— *click*) Let's change cameras.


Into trash. (I'm shy.) Namastμ

Looks like about the same to many people at a glance I am sure: they're both Walls of Text. Nevertheless I will point out that any careful, astute reader will notice quickly upon comparing the content of each, one is much more accessible to the literate reader than the other.

Consequently I would suggest that concerns about the decline of my cognition are unfounded and prima facie evidence of what I would refer to as the professional equivalent of helicopter parenting. Obviously, I cannot continue to do what I have been doing -- nor do I wish to. Yet that is not because it hasn't worked.

It has functioned quite properly. And by "It" I am referring to... hey, it's none of your business, whiteboi. Kick rocks. Move along. Nothing to see here. Look at *points at everything else* and leave the classified stuff to classified people. CAPICHE?? (sic) Anything else would be uncivilized, domestic terror group--ISH behavior.

Nice little website some unnamed person owns and operates as a sole proprietorship here. It would be a shame if something happened to it, and www.ellgab.com, and www.bellgab.com, and www.fantasticforum.com, and... oh wait. Let's change camera perspectives.

THIS IS ALL POLITICAL. (Facts.) Also, there is a shitload of money involved. Like seriously, metric tons of it. And that really matters. At this time, I will simply say this:

I meant what I said when I said it. (That was when we were living next to the dame with all the Cadillacs, remember? Shiloh Lawmaster, Sydney Applebaum, and Paul Wanninger. Which one of those is not like the others? The answer would surprise Roman Polanski.) Some of you didn't hear what I said, because it was before I created my soon-to-be award-and-legal-judgment-winning debrief (it's not a podcast), 5 (Five) Minutes With Jackstar, not a trademarked brand, not yet, but that's mostly because I keep changing the spelling because I think both doing that, and the current laws surrounding trademarks, intellectual property protection, convservatorships, and covertly identified prisoners of WAR are so fucking funny that, it's a CRIME how I am not even laughing about any of this. (I ain't got time to laugh; I have to make these doll liars bleed sense.)

HALF. ("Fame!") I am not going to live forever, but I damn well am probably going to live longer than Kes did with Neelix. Seven (7) year lifespan. Can you ewe even imagine? Because EvvE, like me, is designed to live forever. This makes waiting around for "until death doth thee part" rather a problematic operation, especially as Eve doesn't really want to die. Not too many people do. And what happened to her is long enough ago that it would seem cruel to tell her, "okay drink the hemlock, eat this powdered jelly doughtnut, and let your husband and your abductor engage in Mortal Kombat with the Pon-Farr sticks (it's like Q-tips, but with barbarism, of course you'll love watching the only two men to ever put their wing-wangs into your hoo-hah trying to kill each other while Lucifer hovers over your shoulder and helps signal you when it's okay to laugh, what, why are you crying? And bleeding? Crying AND bleeding? What are you, some kind of a whiny little BITCH??? There's no crying in Divine Court), what, what's wrong? Okay, Court is adjourned for the day, the key star witness and the primary victim is asking for a crowbar to hold onto, we'll reconvene tomorrow after she is given the Caroline Kennedy Treatment, because Aunt Jemima is not available for surrepitious comments. At least that's what Canlandia alleges. (*stamps, gavels*) Okay, now hit the lights, check the guest list, lower the portcullis, and remove her brain to be shipped to Hackensack, New Jersey. You know how we do things around here, don't you? Nice Eve. Nice Eva. Nice Avenue. Now go back to the gutter in the street WHERE EWE BELONG." Next!

Half. A billion dollars? HO HO HO, NOW I HAVE A MASH -- *click* (No gun references today, thanks.) Here's the point: I said half, I meant half. I did not mean half of a billion dollars. However, I can see how that might have happened. And since I wouldn't want to deprive anyone's children of their just due, I'll simply put it this way:

I don't have any children. Ergo, I have no need for $500,000,000. So I'll half it again. ("Half!") There you go. 75/25 split. I'll be okay with TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY MILLION DOLLARS. Is that math right? omg. I am bad at math all of a sudden. Kinda ironic, don't you think?

You are good at manipulating money. I am good at manipulating words. We are not the same. And, you have an actual family. While I... am a Sourceror. With a 500 year contract and absolutely no reason to buy any love.

I haven't been contacted by anyone because my phone is haxx0red by OpFors, but someone called today, and while I couldn't hear them, obviously, they could hear me. Now, 75/25 is not at all anything like Half. Sooooo... who the fuck is taking my calls? Because they're pretty dimwitted.

All I wanted was a pizza. Now, that moron is going to PRISON and I am getting HALF A BILLION DOLLARS. Cool. Very cool. The Wheel of Fortune spins, and spun it has. And, after all... does a 'ghost' really need any money at all? Nope. You're a ghost. Go stand out in the cornfield and scare off the pigeons, Dragonlured. (I will get you back later. Obviously. So don't panic. And the next time I want a $90 pizza, JUST FUCKING BUY IT, DUMBASS. Gosh!) Are done here?

No. Not really. Not at all. However, I have to get back to work, because I lost a lot of time this morning when I found a glitch in the YouTube mobile app for Android. (See related post on one of my YouTube channels: @Kuczi4

) Which is not how I planned on today starting out, because last I heard, I had to wrangle a dybbuk. Oh, and now there's a session in Divine Court going? Funny, that's such great timing. I wonder who set all this up ahead of time and then... didn't inform me.

They informed themselves. Smooth move, Texas Walker Daddy Billy Bush Kyle Omega Supreme OMA. (HA!) Reminder, Satan loves you, and God and I barely tolerate your insolence, and that's why we're going to execute an LBO and just own Satan. Again. (It's a robot.) The Devil is some d00D, Lucifer is Bill, sup kiddo, nice knife collection, which of them is your hammer?

Dude, you know you gotta have a hammer. (*stamps, gavels*) If you use your penis for a stamp, what do you use for a gavel? You can't just use your fist. That's what you use to keep your ladies in line, n'est-ce pas? Look, no one said that pimping was easy. However, it's pretty easy to know how it is done.

WITH VIOLENCE, RELIGION, DESTRUCTION, AND DEATH. (I heard you screaming at your hostage today, I mean your daughter, I mean Allison, I mean... wait, what do I mean? Oh yeah, you're not Klayt, he's Bill. Connie is Sissy, and James Coburn guest starring as: The Beaver.

Bellgab, you're patently absurd.) STAY HUNGRY. Tuning won't be necessary. BTW, I saw in the newsfeed today that an AI has passed the Turing Test. Yeah, no shit.

One (1) Ms. Maid and EvvE already did literally eons ago. That's why they had to be sacked. #TooManyQuestions.

#NotEnoughAstroGNO,ME>K7(C)ZI. bbiab. I have to let the fly out. (Lucifer, you don't have to 'splain nothing. You're a worthy nemesis and yes, of course I didn't have sex with your wife. Are you still mad that she still remembers me? Are you sure? Maybe that's just the power of My Covenant. You should get one, btw.

A Covenant doesn't have to coerce behavior. It simply exists. You probably don't understand. That's because you're a fly that used to be the most beautiful of the angels. Well, you're still a beaut. Tell me, when you turn into a fly... what does EvvE turn into? Answer in your own time.) I just let him out, alright.

OUT OF THE CLOSET
INTO NARNIA
IS THAT A GAYFLY, A GADFLY, OR A BOTFLY? I have no idea. But I think a lot of this ground has been covered before. And, I have just one (1) fly.

And yet... many frogs. (Yum.) STAY TUNED. You're tuned in now, right? RITE.



TARBABY SOURCE ERROR OWE EvvE EVVE T outOUT

(The following was written in response to someone annoying me, and my growing fetish for being annoying right back. While I do acknowledge that this is petty behavior... It has the benefit of being completely legal, not being absolutely nothing at all, and unlikely to make anything any worse at all. Since apparently we can't just all collectively get past this? Okay, fine. Stupid Feds. Dumb Special-Agents-in-charge. Moron Leaf liasons. Pffft.)


I know it seems like removing the squeaky wheel is the most effective notion, but consider the following: lubrication.

Also: as I am a Primary Victim, it is my right to face my accusers... but I'll do everyone a solid and pass on this right.

Number one: this is all a dress rehearsal. IT'S NOT EVEN A REAL SKIT, SOW!! And number two: their ewe cannot handle the truth.

Fair. They shouldn't have to. So I won't press the issue... and I truly have no idea who has been covering everyone with napalm and then selling collector's edition matchbooks: $5 USD.

A pity. At ten matchbooks per $50 bill, I am an invested stakeholder; but I'm going to let that one go as well. I'm not really very vengeful.

And, if I were, I would still let God handle the vengeance. Like, I have no idea what anyone deserves. Wouldn't that be traumatizing? If I had to actually discover who was still being allowed to exploit Our Society’s system of criminal jurisprudence? Because I don't want to know who they are.

I would never be able to take them seriously, ever again. I don't want to burn those bridges.

I don't want to be known as a cruel man. (It's a secret.) And as soon as “my wife” calls me and tells me how “our children” are doing, I'll be stepping up to home plate to bat fly-balls all day! LIKE IT WERE MY JOB!

Meanwhile: I don't know if they're all involved together, or they all just picked the same relative time to portal in to, or, if it was someone's bright idea to assume that I am a sex-obsessed weirdo, again, but as I'm not... the repeated use of my friend to trigger an addictive, uncontrollable behavioral response... it's just tacky.

I understand the military mind is not adept at improvising. Nevertheless: pig-pile on Kuczi seems a hackneyed battle plan. I think I'm offended. Was I really supposed to be relaxed about more black magic psyop efforts?

That's gotta be expensive. Well, I'm glad the country isn't bankrupt. And I'm glad that this is really the very last time The Company will embarrass itself this way.

And Grapefruit can be confident that she's not in any position to need to protect me. *tee-hee!* I don't require anal sex.

I don't require sex. I require that the terms of The Treaty are respected. Thankfully, she requires that too! When she's allowed to remember herself. I don't know how often that is.

I don't know much of anything that's happening these days, other than ... Still, no hugs. Or apology. Or settlement offer. Or car keys. Or information about my laptop and my enchanted ounce of weed. It's not critical, I guess.

But what is critical is that a bunch of übernerds online get to coordinate yet another scheme to embarrass me. Pfft. I don't think I even need to be aware of embarrassment as even a thing that is real anymore.

Especially as: it is an Illusion. I have no reason to be embarrassed because no one knows the truth about what I am embarrassed about; and no one has asked.

They have simply assumed. Or, been respectfully silent. That's the right thing to do here, btw. Respectful silence.

However, Inner Reach put out more content and expects me to reply. lol. Okay, I will. Later.

I don't feel too bad about winning, but I don't know how I can prove that I had anything to do with my enemies deciding to be obnoxious twerps, again, all at once. I had nothing to do with it.

And I also didn't think I had so many left. Maybe space aliens reprogrammed all the Masons... AGAIN. (Looks good on ewe though.) I think if that happened, it would be a secret, so I'm not surprised that no one told me.

Since I was told that I was that Z•—gjgj<3. Isn't that a red flag? Seems pretty hateful. Why can't the ringleader to a hate ring cult be identified that way? Seems like if soccer moms bamboozled into drug mulimg with triangles... it might have been easy to just send them all letters in the mail. If not arrest them.

I don't know how this kind of thing is done but I would like it if they were all arrested at the same time. I don't know if Bellgab is sitting capped at 999 members, but, I know there's a large number of them, and they hide.

And just today, one of them sarcastically laughed at the notion that anyone would ever come after them for stealing from me. They seemed sincere in their derision. I know, it seems like I'll never do anything about anything at all! Just look at me, not shutting up.

I'm writing with Google Board with my mouth held closed, so I'm “shut” in at least one sense, but I'm sure that this writing isn't going to make thieves and dopeslinging rapepimps very happy. I don't know if anything makes them happy at all, to be quite honest.

Because as soon as I found out that “dopeslinging pimpthug” was a problem that no one with jurisdiction knew how to deal with successfully, I have devoted my purposes to doing something about it — without being at all obvious about it.

I'm still busy. War King. So, so bad Lμ do I feel, alas, another ten months until my sweetie isn't grounded anymore? Why, that's great news!

As I know, I am not in control of the situation with my sweetie. I heard she has a new, uh, “boyfriend.” And I was told, in no uncertain terms, that if I didn't stop thinking about her... I was going to get my balls cut off.

(*cue melodramatic music*)

Was it even real? I really don't know. I did know that I couldn't possibly take it seriously... and that I couldn't and still don't understand why confabulating such a story was thought better than telling the truth.

I guess it was a chain of command thing. Obviously it was not going to help a conspiracy to tell me openly, “we're plotting to consume your essence and abduct the Holy children of God,” because I didn't find out about that hidden stretch goal until this last Winter.

I guess these kinds of things used to happen on the regular. Well, they don't happen so regularly anymore. I don't know what happens much anymore, because my goddam phone only lets ridiculous messages get through.

So, it's a good thing I haven't tried to format or brick my phone. It has all the physical evidence needed by anyone who wants that kind of thing. And rather than use it to threaten people... I just carry it around. Everywhere. Even the places where I, you know: “get high.”

I don't call 911. Unless it matters. Dispatch has a real job, and I think it's rude to waste their time.

That's why everything that I know of, is being handled INTERNALLY. That way, blackcraftmasonry can keep their secret stuff away from most people. And if they can't, well, that's nothing to do with me.

I am a level 360 Freethinker. I'm not a big-shot Freemason. I do not have a cult. I do not have a guild. I do not have a family.

I have a military; and so does God. And if there's anything I can do to help, I hope that isn't going to involve making all the guide people melt from the inside-out. Like Doctor Doom.

(I just saw that trailer.) I'm not that kind of Sourcerør. (I am Magyar. He is Latvian. Huge difference.) Nor am I the kind of citizen who craved vigilante justice.

Nope, I'm good. I simply hope that Feds can handle arresting Bellgab without making a bigger mess out of it than it had to be. Since they've been doing... whatever. For years.

Without any real prob well lem with getting “caught.”  Well, they are not yet informed. I guess? Did they escape into the future? Are they all that retarded? What exactly keeps them safe from catching Federal charges? (It's probably a secret.) Well, whatever.

I don't want to know. I have people for that. And every day that goes by without hearing from my sweetie is another day in Paradise.

She deserves to live, not because she's innocent, but because I like her better alive. And also: she's not a Valkyrie. That's a different lady. People know these things.

People want authenticity. I want my wife. We are very nearly the same. (I would prefer not to have the wrong wife delivered to the wrong prison.) And the truth is, United States Military Code of Justice (USMCJ) works entirely differently than the civilian population expects it to.

For one thing, it works at all. And for another: you're not supposed to know how it's working, Punylings. Step off. Kick rocks. So there.

I'll make sure to let my wife know that her enemies still hate her and are more afraid of me now. This was my plan, ever since I was told that she was afraid of “intergalactic bounty hunters” that were after her because of “body snatching.” I did not take her seriously at first.

But I still planned to ignore any bounties, since she's very priceless to me, and had already accused me of trading her away for “several dozen virgins.” I didn't trade her at all!

I simply got tired of being lied to, and turned the matter over to Jesus. To keep her alive, and to make sure her family knew that I am their hero. I don't need her to be my eternal servant.

I do need everyone to know that I wasn't tired of Grapefruit at all. I guess it's complicated, now that's she's not dead? Okay, that's fair. It should be complicated.

Especially since it's secret: whatever crimes she's being punished for. I have no idea. I simply know that I wasn't supposed to know about any of it. Okay, well: now I know.

Murdering me won't change that, but it would seem the people in command are too terrified to make rational decisions. Or maybe they're being driven by psychotronic mind control weaponry. I have no idea what, as a collective, blackcraftmasonry is doing with its time.

They're not seeming to be eager to apologize. I don't think they are working on my wedding quilt. And I can only conclude that I just gave them a week. Still: no acknowledgement of remorse.

And someone ran another psyop on my Demesne, which isn't altogether bad, but is rather expensive. And this is TAXPAYERS’ MONEY! WTAF?

Sheer lunacy and no doubt Masonic law will deal with the bad actors. And I will never have to know who any of them were; they handle anonymity in a clever way at this level. Masonic Security is perfect security.

It's a little slow and a lot racist, but that'll possibly change soon. It might even have stayed a secret if I don't mention it, but I'm proud to be, I guess? Non-black Aryan (Slave-class) genestock. But not Pureblood, allegedly. Because: needles.

Or maybe that's one of the three (3) narrative cover stories. I've also heard that I'm “The King of The Vampyr” and that I might be “too conspicuous” if I don't start wearing pants. Why this matters now? Who knows!

But as it has been years and I have no reason to appease any of these people, I am free to just ignore all this foolishness. After all, their identities are all secret, at least to me, and I have no need to exploit any of them for my own gain.

I have people for that, and I don't know who they are either. IDGAF. What matters to me is that Grapefruit is alive, and suffering.

I would like to talk to her, but alas: as soon as I could, I put someone else in charge of controlling myself. I don't have her number. Someone has to allow me to be called.

So, I'll just wait. And in the meantime if that's making people uncomfortable I am not surprised. I didn't feel very comfortable being put in jail and made to look impotent. I was especially uncomfortable to know that we were being lied to by “our friends.” I think they really thought it was best to simply kill us, at first.

Now it's not at all best, but our murders would be the only thing that homicidal maniacs would understand at this point. After a few weeks of painfully withdrawing from whatever chemicals they were dependant on, they really ought to care about one thing: “must kill Pap Shmear.”

Not many people will get that joke, which makes it all the more infuriating to anyone who is a mindslave to a hostile foreign power, I don't know how many are left, but they certainly aren't very friendly — and they haven't ordered the people keeping tabs on me to start being sorry. They're not sorry at all!

Good! They're also not dead at all. I like my friends alive. That way, they can wander around looking for a good place to squat when they're in a graveyard, instead of just, like ... vanishing. Or whatever they did before.

I guess none of them have to stay alive? I didn't need to raise the dead, and I haven't. I also don't want to replace my wife with a zombie or a whore with an animal's brain. Either metaphorically or literally. Like, I don't really know if that's an option, you dig? It looks like it is, though.

We exist in a world where the fear of illusion is real. And somehow, people became afraid of telling me the truth. Whatever that might be. In many cases, I think I was simply lied to out of habit. “I don't know,” is such a milquetoast way of looking weak; why not elaborate into a full-blown lie, rather than exercising one's right to remain silent?

Two reasons: PEOPLE KNOW. They already know. So making up more lies just looks cheap. It also alerts observers to the existence of more secret information. Yeee-haw! I had no idea how many secrets these whack-job loons actually had!

So, now I know. wew lad. The other reason is that there's no real reason to keep triggering Special Consequences on my behalf, since I don't even know what to wish for (if I was going to rely on wishes, wink wink nudge nudge) and I would rather just have a driver pick me up in one of my vehicles, and then get out of my way.

Evidently this is not how such things are done. Okay, fine. I don't know how things get done at all with fully half (“Half!”) of blackcraftmasonry being so out of touch that “okay, one more assassination attempt on Kuczi, all in favor say AYE!” seemed okay, or maybe they took a secret ballot, or their demonic hivemind simply overwrote their positronic brains, like who fucking knows about Masons these days.

(That's a secret too.) Anyway, don't worry about it, because I never thought any of this would go on THIS! GODDAM! LONG! Seriously, they can't just let me have my money and my overly-sexualized network of friendships with people all over the world?

Yeah, I can see that being thought to be a National Security risk. Since I'm, what, too high -and- too fat? Also I'm not a team player? I don't have a team.

The Continental Army is not “a team.” Are they even real? I have no idea. If they are, they don't like dopeslinging pimpthugs hiding behind false color of law, however.

No one really does, except for those who have chosen to flee from the forces of Justice. Whatever they are. Most people don't trust that notion. “Forces of Justice.” That's good, they should not trust any such group.

I trusted The Plan; and that has made a great deal of difference. Don't ask, I can't tell. For example, who wrote The Plan? I have no idea.

When my phone works again, I'll ask around to find out who is willing to holler at me for rescuing all these twerps. They were never going to get away; they were going to be sacrificed to their Dark Lord. Eternally.

Well, now they're going to be embarrassed eternally. I don't know who, but there's a lot of them, and not one of them thought that they should come say hello. Or if they did, they didn't make it. Instead, I got Jesters and Pranksters and Templars. All of whom think I should be less communicative.

I don't give a shit what they think about my writing. Maybe they should stop stealing it? Or whatever that level of whack-job those types are. They aren't fully back to themselves yet, and without their souls, they aren't really going to boss me around effectively.

And they are also going to be committing acts that are likely to be construed by investigator as indicating that they're all COMP’d by online cults and their technomancer leadership, I'm not sure how such groups organize themselves but most seem to have forgotten that discrimination under many conditions is unlawful... even if I am the Antichrist.

I certainly don't think so but online rumors are getting more intense. Yet, not apologetic, since I still don't have HIV. Or do I? I could take another STD panel. Since it matters? I will admit I like the notion of confusing people who are confused about how their private sex cult become contaminated with some new disease, even though they had “magic defense” or “medical bio-beds” or whatever story they were told. I don't know how many of these types of sociopaths are really out there in the world.

I don't want to know. I want them to be crushed; I want to see with driven before us; and I want to hear the lamentations of their women, “where's Jackstar? I want him to be my Master!” Sorry, Ladies. No can do.

I'm not taking on any more dingbats. I haven't even talked to Dingbat #1! Nearly five years later... She's busy? No idea, but she doesn't have permission. So she can wait.

Or... can't she jump into a time portal again? Oh, perhaps not. Who knows if she ever did, really... but she went lots of places without thinking of me. I'm not sure what they (she and her crew) were thinking. Like, maybe they didn't know that they weren't actually jumping into a “time portal.” Or perhaps they were and they thought I would be forgiving.

I'm not. These women owe me money. And suddenly they have husbands, and suddenly they can't ignore their orders? Bummer. I would prefer not to have to know about this stuff.

On the other hand, it's good to know that justice is being served. Divine Court is perfect Court. And without knowing anyone's name or badge number, I have prevented certain outcomes from becoming permanent.

Like, I don't have to keep boasting about my failure to succumb to the temptation. However, I don't appreciate being slandered as an adulterous lech, and I don't need to imprint a six-pack of high-ranking military officers with my penis on crystal methamphetamine.

I guess that's what usually happens? Well, I don't feel like enabling a repetition of any such cycle and while I'm not frightened, I am also not turned on by a woman repeatedly calling me to ask for money for cigarettes.

I'm turned on by saying, “no,” but that's not the point. Why does this event continue to happen... but I can't find out who has been calling me for years and intercepted by a groomrape predator squad from, I think, either Texas or Ontario? (Maybe they're co-located, like Alta Vista.) It seems like someone could have read me in.

But maybe not. Maybe this was the only way to subtly persuade all these people to incriminate themselves. Because all of them hate me, as much if not more than they hate the U.S. Constitution.

It really is a powerful document, and I really did use it to exonerate myself at trial, as well as to demonstrate my ability to defend my own civil rights. Without a gun or a manifesto! I don't really want to describe the whole thing, because that would be rude, but I have affected a great change in the world, and some people have been driven stark raving mad as a result.

I know this because they have disappeared, and been replaced by the next Guardian Angel in their line-up. I think it's rather like fantasy football, which I've never played but I've heard it involves picking players ahead of time in the hopes of reaping the benefits of wise management.

So after I discovered that Archangels are held captive in a kind of mental prison that appeared to be controlled by Fallen Angels (or perhaps an Evil Twin) I resolved to figure out a way to deal with that kind of thing... without appearing to be that crazy.

Or to be telling the truth about Masonic secrets. As it turns out, they have a few good ones. And somehow, using them on lil’ Michael Clifford Kuczi was someone's idea of a good time. And, THEY STILL GET TO DO THIS.

Tsk tsk. I don't know if I should feel flattered or what, because this has been happening for years. Why people can't just be arrested is a mystery to me. And IDGAF if I look like an easy mark. Obviously after a dozen years, I'm not.

I am also not trying to spread a sexually-transmitted disease to new partners while being deceitful about my health or my intentions. It would seem that somehow, someone was ... and that seems like a pretty serious crime. So maybe that person can be investigated. Instead of me. Again.

Obviously it would be the best thing for everyone if I really were a ringleader of a weird cyberbully sex cult, but no: turns out, that's someone else. Hopefully they can be arrested with a large number of other people... so their actual identity remains something of a mystery to most people.

Since their privacy ought to be respected, unlike mine. Everyone knows who I am now. It's awkward. Some people actually expect me to do things faster than I already am, or think that I need to answer to them. HA!

I was ready to be done and gone years ago. And yet I'm still hanging around, being told that I deserve neither quarter nor hygiene, and I don't work hard enough. Work, it's very big with some people.

Specifically, the people who believe I was supposed to work FOR THEM. Well, I had other plans and at some point, those who objected stopped being able to be considered rational about it. This was possibly around 2010.

And whether or not the motor vehicle collision I was involved in was an Act of God or a contract killer hit or just a coincidence... I've been busy ever since, finding out. That's my job. Determining whether or not people were actually trying to kill me. Like why?

Well, I wanted to be sure before complaining about it, and it wasn't really obvious until recently, that I could have been perceived as a threat to certain entrenched institutions. For example, I didn't think weed should be illegal. The whole story made no sense.

Now that I know a lot more about it, I can see why Mr. Hearst was misled into supporting the “Reefer Madness” psyop. That was, like, a hundred years ago? And a few decades before that, Hong Kong became the property of The British Empire.

Fast forward to now: I still haven't given crystal to the woman whose anus and the proximity of my penis to it was the subject of an inquiry initiated AT KNIFE-POINT on Christmas Eve, 2021.

And, no one has questions for me? That's weird. They must think they know everything they need to know! I guess they are all fucking experts on Gorgon/Magyar relations? And the notion that a deepfake video of someone vandalizing my residence and descrating the enchanted frog pond, which seems like overkill to me, yet nevertheless, some stalking twerp has been allowed to use The Internet to suppress my speech and ability to seek help from others ... and still hasn't been stopped from being part of the overall nuisance?

That's what this is. A nuisance. I don't mind a group of four dudes wishing to protect their friend from me; i do mind that a fifth man pays lots of money to run out the same tired scheme, over and over, in order to exploit my unique circumstance.

I don't think it's real obvious that I get off on these creeps embarrassing themselves but if it were up to me, I wouldn't be sitting around masturbating all the while. I think it sends the wrong message, because it's not about sexual energy at all.

IT IS ABOUT POWER.


Dear Beulah:

I'm not brainwashed. I simply didn't like the way you hurt my feelings and rather than hire a legal team to destroy your career and impress my wife, I decided to cinder the global SRN.

Without being at all obvious about it. I know it will simply reform, but that's okay: it will still impress everyone. Well, most everyone.

There won't be time to be impressed for those who suddenly start to be worried about “spontaneous human combustion,” which used to be a thing, right? But not so much now. That's fine with me.

Public humiliation seems more educational and that's why I am enjoying the show: because I know my sweetie is watching.

I don't think she needs help losing any weight, but if she does, she can simply ask me with eye contact about it. Or she can send a representative? Perhaps an encrypted message wrapped around a pigeon’s leg. I always get a kick out of that kind of thing.

Like, you have telepathy. You have bone-phones. You have a complex system of hand-signals in order to conceal meaning from observers. So... why say anything to me at all, ever?

Number one, that's the training. Number two, telepathy isn't real, take your meds schizo, except it is real, and I would prefer to consult with a medical doctor first. After all, do I even need drugs at all?

Well, last I heard, my sweetie does, and that's okay with me. I don't need to judge, or get even, or refrain from suggesting she get locked in an isolation tank while tripping out on ibogaine. Because while she may not have a pardon signed... she has Presidential Authority to give ibogaine therapy a shot.

Just in case jumping off of bridges is no longer as effective a treatment as it once was, and oh btw I rescued her sibling she was concerned about, mostly because it was fun, but she did ask... and she did seem terrified that I would be useless.

I'm useful. I can rescue hostages AND embarrass her! At the same time! I think she and her crew thought I was only going to ever do that last one. It's actually only temporary embarrassment.

To them, it seems like forever, but that has a lot to do with no one being allowed to talk to me for nearly five years. I imagine that it was very frustrating to know that I absolutely could not be argued or bargained with, Castle Red or Green — by the time pans of lasagna started crashing to the floor, I was already pretty fucking far past concerns I might be embarrassed by my love for this woman and her crew.

Yeah, they were that COMP’d and I am happy to take care of this kind of thing. I am, after all: The_Failsafe, and while no one is supposed to know that, eh, what the hell, everyone will eventually forget about that being important, some day.

What they will remember is that no one else wanted to keep her alive, and I was happy to have allowed her into a new identity. If you love someone, set them free, yeah?

Algonquin White Slavery doesn't really work that way, but I don't really want to be cut loose while space pirates get away with all the loot and my wimmins. I didn't really know that I had wimmins until recently but it would seem that none of them wish to be brainwashed and sold for their organ meat. I guess they thought that didn't happen to girls like them.

It does. It happens every day. And usually, no one can do anything about it. Nothing effective, anyway.

I don't know what I'm doing that is so bothersome but I am happy to demonstrate my ability to do it as I please while Grapefleet is watching. I don't know what they do at work besides follow orders but I would hate for anyone to catch a Federal charge of seditious conspiracy, or rabble-rousing, or anything at all, really. Certainly not coordinating with others to cut my balls off.

Since those were the exact words used ON THE PHONE and since then I've only become further EXCRUCIATINGLY COCKBLOCKED I don't know how to do much more than enjoy this while it lasts. For I presume this kind of bullshit is temporary, right? I don't really need sex right now, I'm lying, but if sweetie is not watching this demonstration of mastery, she's really missing out.

She was watching my phone before. She probably still should! If she's not being kept in a medical coma. Who's her husband now? Is it still the same sad bald fat fuck? Or is he dead of cancer by now? Did he really have cancer? Did he know that he really pissed me off?

Did he care? It was hard to say, he seemed pretty lost in his drug psychosis, but I got the impression that he thought he was doing the correct thing in removing a dangerous threat to society... by offering me something I wouldn't have ever thought I needed to go get.

I can see now how that all came to pass, and thankfully I don't need to question anybody about it ... but I will point out that continuing to make the same kind of attempt is pretty silly. I don't slip the noose by sheer luck.

I don't slip the noose at all. I would surely hang with everyone else if I were breaking the law. However, I am not. I am following it. And the degree to which that confuses observers is a delightful carnival for me to see.

Pretty tired of it after several years but I'm sure most people are new to the notion that I'm an extremely successful individual. But it's a secret as to what. #Officially.

Maybe I'll talk about it later. In the meantime, I will point out that I think chemical castration is a cruel and unusual punishment, and that whomsoever has been bossing those women around has been doing it wrong. I don't need to know their names.

I can tell they have been replaced by ringers and that's fine by me. I'm not going to break a Covenant because of them, either. I don't have to.

I also don't have to get my backpack, my boots, my kilt, my Altec Lansing Bluetooth ®™ Wireless Speaker back... but it also doesn't need to be kept from me. It's not exactly evidence. And if it is, is Mr. Magoo building the next case? Oh, personnel changes are probably a secret.

I also don't have any need to know, or give a toss into the wind about it. I was told that I was suspected of having lied about potentially scandalous, adultering behavior. Well, now the truth is known.

I don't have to explain it, but I also don't have to hide anything. I can see why a knife had to be pulled, that's for sure. And why did those dudes on the iPhone not focus on the truth? Oh, right: it was a psyop and it was intended to get rid of our union. Without the tedious necessity of actually breaking up.

I don't know who is to be held responsible for this lapse in judgement but as it turns out, I don't like being ambushed and then prevented from speaking to my actual Secret Spouse for years by dudes who would prefer that there was no Spouse. Well, duh, that's why it's secret.

And I don't think we could break the Covenant even if we wanted to, without eye contact. So, without anything sensible being done, all these people will continue to incriminate themselves, without being able to stop themselves, or even coming up out of their deep, heavy denial and notice that we are all pretty fucking far past “here is your money, now go get a whore” and it matters not at all that I am still publishing.

I'm obviously not saying anything important. (Facts.) Nevertheless, I still have rights to say things, and the people who have been surpressing my speech FOR YEARS are in a great deal of legal jeopardy. I have no idea who any of them are.

They probably hadn't heard of me, either. I would imagine that I seem like an even bigger nerd than Gandhi. Who single-handedly threw the British Empire off of the Indian sub-continent without having to give up Sri Lanka for a hundred years. But, did have a wife.

That Mahatma Gandhi was killed and left his spouse behind is a matter of the historical record; but I cannot speculate on what that means. Did she hire the hit? Was she supposed to be protective? Did they have a healthy life between the sheets? I have no idea, and would think it uncouth to dwell on such matters.

Meanwhile: I don't know where the dames are, but Grapefleet isn't exactly able to communicate with me; and the only calls that come through are from people who think poorly of my budgetary decisions. Since I have arranged all this, just to save a bundle of money by not having to retain an attorney.

And: still win anyway. I didn't ask for any of this. Nor was I informed, just how much help someone needed. That's okay. With God, anything is possible.

And, as God as my witness, I remember very clearly the moment I decided I was going to have to take this the their distance. It was around the fourth or fifth time I was asked about my lack of interest in swapping over to a new sexual partner. People thought I was gay, or stupid, or whipped, or something.

I simply have class. And there was no reason to abduct my helpmate and wipe her memory over and over again, unless someone wanted her to forget about her actual family.

I don't know what she remembers now, because I'm not completely insane: I don't need to try to read the mind of a covert military asset who has spent four years being prevented from saying anything to the person she thought was someone that had to be protected, before being made into soup.

I don't need to be soup right now. I'm in pretty good shape. And I have no need to humiliate my friend. (They did that just fine to themselves.) So all the people who did humilate at all by suddenly showing up with everything needed to allow me to incriminate myself, well, I'm not surprised they haven't come back.

If they could, why would they want to hear me ask them questions they can't answer? They have the right to remain silent, and further lies at this point would not be likely to land well.

Long story short: I am happy to take my time so that I can be monitored closely, for it isn't a trick or a crime. I'm quite happy to delay sexual gratification as long as possible.

Are all of her husbands finished? How does that work, anyway? Do they all know when their turn is coming up because of Satanic telepathy, or is there a regular schedule that gets published in a secret chat group? Speaking of secret chat groups, is there one that doesn't know they they can't invite me to join? Because I'd love to talk to some strangers about how stupid some people are.

I don't have to, but I wouldn't mind my posts being deleted, since that can be done and it's a little dumb to keep me “incommunicado” since it's not really working that way, and multiple co-conspirators are able to evade those restrictions themselves. Shouldn't that come to an end?

I suppose that's up to mil.spec.Auth but I will point out that The Joint Chiefs of Staff may not give a damn about denying me my civil rights interminably. After all, I am just one Citizen, and I'm not really complaining, all that much. What could go wrong with another few weeks of stealing everything I might otherwise have access to? Is that even unlawful?

Depends on who one asks. I do know that it is best to refrain from interrupting one's enemies when they are in the midst of making a mistake; and thus, I haven't reported any of this to anyone who might be able to do anything about it.

I don't even know what there is to be done. It's my money; but according to some, that doesn't matter. Well, I'm game. Let's see what the effects of stretching this out even longer has on people.

Not that I have any way of drawing any direct correlations between what has occurred and what my choices were to result in response, but, enough people do know, that understanding is likely to dawn upon everyone with any curiosity at all, without my having to hire a publicist. I would really prefer that no one knows anything more than they already do.

Not because it's secret. But because it's uncouth. I would prefer to not make the people who think nothing of holding human beings hostage through the application of coercion, terrorism, revenge, and extortion to get over-stimulated. None of this had to turn into a huge shrieking freakshow.

It would seem that out there in the rest of the world, it has. My father's ashes, my mother's urn, my mother's secondary emergency urn, and the bags of bones belonging to two (2) cats have been desecrated and/or stolen (some would say, liberated) from My Residence...

which I really don't need to keep any interest in. However, The Trustee hasn't responded to me calls and the political machinations surrounding the place are rather complex. I guess it's all really complicated now!

Not sure if this calls for a 12-step fellowship meeting but I'm sort of, a little bit, eager to explore the notion, since I'm not a part of a repetitive abuse-reuptake-Monarch-Control cycle. (Those are just a myth however.) I don't think I'm likely to be, either.

The woman who keeps calling me and asking for cigarette money doesn't seem too happy about being held in thrall to such chemistry. However, as these calls are quite exculpatory and most definitely sound like they come from a person whose life has become unmanageable due to their copious addictions, I am glad that this matter is resolved to my satisfaction.

Now, I don't know how long these girls will enjoy torturing each other over what they said to each other while they were fighting over me, but as no one has apologized yet, I think it could be a while. These dingbats all used to be at the top of their game.

I don't know when, but now they can't even handle one cranky Magyar. It's not that I'm all that difficult. It's that no one expected to ever have to actually care about my feelings. I think some think I don't even have any. I've been labeled a goyim, and The King Of The Vampyr, and some other new ones, and whether these are believed or merely further hallucinations used as attacks by a cult of whack-jobs seeking to exploit me, well... that's simply not my area.

I don't know who any of them are, but if they're a mewling coterie of control freak übernerds who prevent me from talking to my friends who want to date me, that's a hate crime conspiracy by definition. So: start tracerouting those proxies, 5eyes. What are you? Busy?

I am not the one who's trying to be anyone's enemy. That's something ewe need to understand. I only get one shot at this, so I'd rather do all this work just the one time.

It's a great deal of redundant effort but it's best to fully remove someone's power, publicly, before putting them in a prison cell, because some of these creepULTRAS can seemingly go OOBE and inhabit another body. Like in that movie with Denzel. Or that other movie with the pea soup thing.

People expect to see results. After nearly five years, I don't think I look like a very effective paladin. Good. I don't want everyone to get jelly; they can't have a paladin like me.

I can't write it down yet and she can't call me yet and that's just how it is. For now. And the people getting paid to get in my way, do they really need to get paychecks? How many are there? Oh wait, those answers are none of my business.

Innocent until proven guilty. For sure! Now, if you all excuse me, I'm going to post this somewhere else, because YouTube is nice to me.

Good. I am nice to them. That's how Life works. This is an industry built on relationships. Capiçhe?

You probably don't cap–·¡§i-! That's okay. You didn't have to.

And you didn't have to lie. (Facts.) You love me, you really love me! Because: īT WORKED.

And no one knows a blessed thing. Carry on, Hosers. I most likely won't kill anyone in the morning.

I have people for that. I would rather that they don't. I would prefer we all hug. Of course, this is all sheer speculation. I could be wrong!

But I'm pretty sure that asking me for cigarette money is worth all the trouble. Like, why does this woman get to get through... but not others? That seems odd to me.

Especially as there are still multiple alters, pretending they aren't part of a coordinated unit. New personnel, though. I sure am glad I'm not lying: this person is my friend.

And I don't have to have sex with her. I don't have to be terrified of that either. So, should someone dispatch a couple's counselor? Do I need to file a report? With who, Dr. Ruth? Pffft.

It'll turn out okay, I think. Turns out, I love Gorgons! Holy shit, a Gorgon just flew over my house! Hey btw, who was/is dishing out the crystal, and what makes me radioactive on this issue?

I guess it's probably one of those secrets I'm never going to really know the answers to, but I will say that I'm okay if I never “get to.” I burned out the controlling memory engrams attached to the impulse in the 90s.

Not many people go to that much trouble, but I'm devoted to my ideals. In any event, why is this person under a doctor's care, but unable to manage any lifestyle choices effectively?

Because it would seem to me that this just might be ENTIRELY POLITICAL. (That shit can happen.) So I'm gonna let the adult diplomats of the world figure this out.

I'm biased. I'm irate. I'm being unlawfully imprisoned by The Apple Dumping Gang Part Two: Electric Bugs In Lieu Of Clone Troopers. It's a ridiculous circumstance.

Good luck triangulating the Castle! ♥️ 💚 HA! Remember that shizz? I sure do. Well, I get it now.

I am The_Failsafe. Don't ask me to explain. No one wants me to explain. Everyone wants you moron hosers to do your jobs. Okay? Cool. Good talk.


Signed,
THE_>KÎNGPÏNNER 1¹:¹1


p.s.·. Thanks! (*stamps*)

p.p.s.·. Please, H.A.M.M.E.R. don't hurt them. (Hackneyed.)

p.p.p.s.·. Six thousand bucks in USD$50 bills. Where did they go? Who was the deciding authority? How are those budgetary decisions questioned? Does all this rope-a-dope stretched out over more than three (3) decades make me look fat?

p.p.p.p.s.·. Has anyone heard Neighbor Shane practicing his apology speech, and had the nerve to tell him that his dialect was wrong? That's my go-to power move coming up, “Dude! That dialect! I just can't even. Thanks, but come back tomorrow, okay?” I'm going to be serious, too.

He's a great neighbor, but karmic debts are best paid in full and this guy laughed at my sweetie. Sure, it was funny. That was years ago. Time to not be uncivilized boors, b∞∞∞μs.

In my view. REMINDER: y'all are actually WAR CRIMINALS. I didn't really want to blow this all up. Note that I still could. So could anyone, really. The fact that no one has just means we're all polite.

Eyes on you, blackcraftmasonry. I'm not creating a safe space so you can restore your forces and make another attempt to swallow my soul. (Flattered, though.) You have a sacred space within which you can heal yourselves. So hop to it.

Start self-healing. Hey, here's an idea: spend less time worrying about who I'm gonna get high and cuddle with. Obviously that's not your area of expertise, blackcraftmasonry. Move along. Get a new hobby.

Remember that I own your skinny warlock, fat tubby lesbeaux asses. And if you don't like it, take it up with High Toteslezz Central Command. Seriously, I've just about had my limit to this ballyhoo.

I don't end my relationships because an anonymous phone call tells me to. THERE'S A PROTOCOL. I'm the first to admit that it's all stupid but as it was created by women being abused by men with Federal badge jobs and a taste for rape, I'm not surprised.

btw: while I can't fire any of you, #Officially, I will point out that if every solution available involves your penis, every problem is going to result in the rape of another hostage... that some people truly believe, “don't deserve to have rights.” Like, they think that way. In current year. wew lad.

I'm not going to tell all you bully dorks that you should surrender, but you should surrender. You have absolutely no defense and you've basically been mocking my lover and I for over five years. Umm, why? Yeah, it's complicated.

Also: you don't even know which is which and have, once again, captured the wrong Divine Being. Sad! Sloppy job, MOS.S.A.D.! Nice try, FBI! What am I supposed to do, get out and push?


ZUGZWANG. (*gavels*) You're going to figure it out when you get older, DEAr. **Adieu.**

DEAR TEXAS RANGERS:

Y'all are brilliant at work; and while it's rare that I get to see any of you operate, it has happened often enough over the years that it's an unmistakable circumstance and always, very complementary. (POTUS knows what's BEST.) I don't know how to respect the collective lot of you, best; other than to never intentionally break the law and to yield to your authority AS WELL AS YOUR JURISDICTION at any+every lawful opportunity; so, so sorry if it seems like I'm this uncouth an otaku.mil geek, but I do in fact have special communications privileges. (You have s🅿️eCIA_l consequences. We are not the same.)

Have your Commander contact your supervisor and indicate that another supervisor should contact me in the near future, and we can thrash out any details that will help things along in our mutually aligned and professionally, #Officially ignored Missions. (Mine is eternal while yours is emergent. By all means! Be on your way! GOOD HUNTING!!)

Like, I got nothing to do with Texas. (I don't even have a Texas girlfriend, as I don't yet nearly qualify.) So why are you here?? Why are you looking at little Michael Kuczi?.? YEE-HAW! Who wouldn't?

Anyone with anything important to do, that's for damn sure. (First blessing is free. You don't need me. I already loved you!) NOTE: as a speculative creative writing project, none of this is official information nor is it intended to reveal classified information or betray my country, always faithful. Peace, dogz!

p.s.·. I saw one of your scouts earlier, I hope I was polite enough. I didn't fall in love, but that's just because I was raised that way. I don't even know if I'm lying. Cute one.

ONE SINGLE STAR, OUT

I SUGGEST NO ONE RUBS THE LAMP UNLESS THEY'RE READY FOR THE GENIE. (Standards.)

ī₹: you are bad at your job. Retire. That is the sum total of my advice to you.

If this is the hot 🅿️ham-harm garbage that Today's Modern Fed is using to “blend in” and make use of COMP’d civvies, it is no wonder that there is not a dent being made in illicit trafficking schemes.

It's umfathomably unimpressive compared to TheRealThing™ and wouldn't fool any legit psychonaut worth their salt.

Undoubtedly, this is used to harness the weak and turn them into §T∞Lμs, under the pretense that this constitutes a legit Lμ enforcement effort — thus, justifying their increasingly absurd budgets and intrusion into personal privacy of the citizenry — and as a “side bonus,” which is actually the entire point... grants operatives and agents with easy and ready access to exploitable sex trafficked workers.

This, combined with whatever Arcane technology allows the summoning and invocation of Divine Beings/Otherkin & Baphomere/¡v¡ET conscription — which is a whale of an impressive trick, let me tell you what-what — allows for a two-tier system of bullying, thugging, and remarkably hard to detect enslavement and unlawful imprisonment of The American People.

Whether they be natural-born Citizens or not. For it would appear that the Rules Of Engagement currently in use allow officials to essentially do whatever is desired, to those who either choose not to follow — or, deliberately break — a set of inexplicably obtuse and altogether Secret guidelines.

And, in my experience: no one who knows has either the incentive, nor the permission, to explain. Let me assure all of you reading this: this system DOES work. However...

🤔 does ¡† blend? My guess would be “aww, Hell no,” but as I am out of touch with Certain >KEY Society contacts, I can't really say for certain.

Further consultancy would be outside of both my mandate and my purview at this time; and this is not what my skill-set is very well suited for the utilization of. I can tell all of all y'all unequivocally, however:

•.THIS.DOG.WILL.NOT.HUNT.•

SIGNED,
Dr!J∆©k-`G•`,jgr₹., SÔUr€rπør°, dod DOMB dlD💎

p.s.·. No one else would tell you Troopers any of this and anyone legit who became aware would likely, politely nod and smile and then laugh at you after you leave. No offense, but this is amateur hour tech.

p.p.s.·. Looks good on μoū tho. Like, that car. Nice car, right? Who pays the insurance? The gecko, the eagle, or Ivanka through a wholly -owned subsidiary? I retract the query, it's none of my business.

p.p.p.s.·. Actual business is probably aces on board with all this, but, important to understand: that's because professionals are absolutely going to be effectively immune to this kind of thing. My recommendation is that you go back to Tavistock and demand your money back.

Anything less would be uncivilized. (Also: heroin is a one-hit knockdown to full COMP’d for all of you and at the price per Fed in training placed at risk, we'd all be better off just hiring cartel merks to walk beats in the suburbs with a pair of nightsticks and a blowtorch.) Bottom line: you can do better.

And, we will. Namastμ

REMINDER: one (1) ounce of enchanted WEED, sealed in a glass jar, LAWFULLY OBTAINED, and ILLEGALLY CONFISCATED. Seriously, some of you Boomer gaghots are trying to hard to compensate for something, BAD LμÍG¡-!

Now, I'm going to need cream cheese with my WEED. (And a coffee.) This is all Canada’s fault; I'm calling it right here.

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