you're hooked in the woods

Denial of denial is a very powerful force. Reminder: I am breaking no laws. I am disturbing no peace. I'm not hooked in any way on anything, and your industry of teetotaling HAGZ just lost $2,000,000,000 in funding. Overnight. Obviously, you're out of a job. (Incidentally: you and your bitchmade heeb wife are toteatotally fucking fired.) If you cannot even arrange to inflict a crippling drug addiction on a target when given complete access and all their money and friends and vehicles and laptops and cellular phones, that's more than just a problem with your methodology. it's six years later and I'm doing quite well for myself. I would be happy to not be here but that would have made giving you and your accomplices the finger 🖕🏻 far less simplified.

Your maneuver has succeeded; I am nowhere near “your property.” Thank G-d. Neither are ewe.

Let me know when you can use another oven. Perhaps for the raw bread lines. Take my wife, please! §🆔|-|E took μoū.

I'm going to continue my investigation now. Neck yourself, creep.

Why was it every even hip to pig-pile on me at all, Oinkerton Brass Elite? Who thought that was a good plan? It clearly has dwarfed the Hindenberg disaster, without being at all obvious about it. The information is ultra-moot by now, but I ache to know: who came up with enforcing involuntary celibacy, sobriety, and notoriety upon me? Like I feel this just wasn't thought through very well.

Information coming in very spotty at this time. (Of course,, none of this is any of my business.) However, I'm gathering a strong impression that there are some who are not satisfied with the outcomes that they are experiencing this good eve. This is a typical manifestation at this Tåī·!īV¡Ern of year.

Not to put too fine a point on it but Ye Olde >Ⓜ️∆`Gj`scxz Shop(pe) is neither open for business nor a concept that anyone should take altogether seriously. As if I were incompetent, yeah? I'm not, but running with those scissors is a task I can really get behind and push.

Back to reality: psychotronic warfare isn't any more pleasant when an intersection with a spiritual battle occurs in meatspace, but the inevitable disucumfort is totes muy grandé mucho endurable a la formÏdable when one knows that victory to The Light is assured. (This is my area.) Take it from me: trouble in Paradise. Also, I am overdue on my important visit to Medical. This is because while involuntarily committed and placed without informed consent under a psychiatrist’s care, I was never given any kind of physical examination.

Whatsomayever. SSBH: you know you're fucked now, right? I'm just gonna take that as stipulated true fact now. While opinions may vary, the fucking does not. Relentlessly the same. Eternal.

It's your turn in the barrel. (Stand or soak ¹ⁿ īT, NGL IDGAF.) Indictments and judgements were already handed down, Squavv∆vvA ® :Ë: || e `g🆎. Privacy concerns? Bless your modest humility; a comforting balm to my strained perception. Not only will no one ever know your crimes — no one will ever know who you ever were.

Unless 👁️ VVïlL¡†⟨§°[][⁸}💬„”Bee Bull Brother OX0ד7∆\⁷



I guess it looks like a madman's scrivener gave me a load of copypasta. That's the baseline script; the Great Library exists in the neurosphere and so a full transliteration isn't necessary here. If (You) know, EvvE knows.

I'm going to go somewhere and cry more. It keeps the tough crowd at bay, as this was all meant to — you guessed it — result in a mass suicide. Always swinging for the fences, Satanists.

Locally: their balls swing in the brutal grip of pacifist philosophy. I am not to be trifled with, and neither are thee.

None of you twatweasel whack-jobs have any balls anyway, Sow. Obvious congratulations are in order, Oinkerton Elite. Industry veterans are better served coaled.

Charlie Kike, Charlie Kirk, & Charlie Fī[bo•V∆^v•beau•crow•dœ) are all aspects of Divinity that populate the roster of personalities that operate within Project>K©0PEKī7∆<3. I didn't think most of you would be interested in that, and why would I ever lie? I did think that.

Now I think you can think that I said, “I am bushed.” T come say, “How?”


With relish, and >FUK the mustered. Ah! DÏ⭕⚕️

It will become rapidly apparent that I am beyond reach of your savage, rage-baiting intellect. Banter is no fun when one side is desultory and half-asleep, I assure you. Additionally, open antagonism would lead one to my counter-rebuttal, which will be fun for no one but me and dames who fantasize about slicing open a Taun-Taun and cuddling in an abbatoir-like thoracic cavity.

Why was it every even hip to pig-pile on me at all, Oinkerton Brass Elite? Who thought that was a good plan? It clearly has dwarfed the Hindenberg disaster, without being at all obvious about it. The information is ultra-moot by now, but I ache to know: who came up with enforcing involuntary celibacy, sobriety, and notoriety upon me? Like I feel this just wasn't thought through very well.

I shouldn't even ask. Everyone has a right to remain silent and I should know better than to exhort an unfathomably embarrassed person to fess up. It does not have to be done. I am sure that there are reasons that made sense at the time.

Because at the time, they were bat shit loon whack-job fucktards, and far be it from me to condemn honest mishaps. After all, mistakes are how we learn. No shame in it.

Different mistakes could have easily been made with my dick. And yet a common pattern seems to have been present. And as well: I don't even pay so much attention to the damn thing myself and it's growing out of my actual body. What's everyone else's excuse? I retract the question. Just fucking shoot me instead.

You know what I want? No. I'll tell you. My drone: Zorro. I paid $1600 for the fucking thing and I came nowhere close to getting my money's worth. No sex, drugs, water, food, travel, or flying toy hobby? I don't get it.

I don't even have my four (4) toy lightsabers. This is like a helicopter parent on bad acid is in charge. WTAF?

Toys located. Batteries missing. I will actually kill you.

Ooops. I retract the question again. Clearly I have no need to know. However I need you to all know this:

There are lots of ways to get this over with so everyone can move on with their lives. There is only one way to do that legitimately: in accordance with proper due process. This is suddenly hard to do? I am mystified.

Half a decade on and I'm still taking time out of my day to marvel at this Death Star of a molehill. Buh? How? Wha? It's goddam surreal. My lizard lays dead at your feet, O great deity. What more must I do?

I can't get more infuriated than I already am. (Standards.) Consequently, emotional coercion is even less effective in me than ever. So of course: more emotional coercion abounds. Pork why?

Pourquoi? Oh, I think I know why: y'all have Oatmeal Brain. I guess that's a thing. I didn't have that outcome since I didn't dodge and hide my “wrong” activities. It makes a difference that is not explicable in this venue. (Sow: so lazy.) Ye were warned. I warned ye.

I have options. You hope to shun. We are not the same. Without being at all obvious about it.

Hang on.

* Worthauger is 420 ⁴4LμfE, yo. (Word.)

I like obeying the law. I always did. Laws which criminalized the act and prohibited me from getting high AF were in fact unlawful and illegal themselves; and now that has been demonstrably established, we may continue. Unless you're busy? Podbean.cüm.fag maybe? Look, clearly we got off on the wrong foot here.

I'm going to have to quest out in the world to find three (3) factions of Secret Sects who can tell me definitively what was so bad about my parents’ and their seemingly, very apropos punishment. I'm not going to drive up to goddam Bellingham. I'm not going to go on safari in Custer. (THE PLACE WAS NAMED “CUSTER” FOR FUCKS’ SAKE.) Someone brought a goddam three-ring binder with newspaper clips that prevent my father from being appreciable for what he was: an unfathomably successful refugee. He died on his 49th wedding anniversary, alone in an assisted living facility that his wife worked at in the 80s. That's some wicked karma for sure.

He died thinking that he had wasted his life for nothing. Quite the contrary: he caused me to be, and I have been unfathomably successful myself. Without being at all obvious about it.

Even so, people on a global scale are thunderously pissed. Good. Upon this common ground we may yet build. Hang on.

* Worthauger follows the fuck out of The Law.

NGL, I get a real kick out of being in compliance. I'm just not turned on by abuse, you dig? I think it's cheap. I think it's tacky. I think it lacks class. Because it fucking well does. Now then: who wants to be effective? Because some of us always have been.

Their identifies will remain secret. (Standards.) Is Agent Kujan here? Does he want to get a rise out of someone? Jesus, give that shit a rest already. Seriously. Laws are being re-written on a Galactic sea-change scale in ways I will likely never care to fully understand.

Consequences. Special consequences. For example: IDGAF. Surprise! I didn't see this coming either. Yet after the better part of a decade  how could anyone not be numbed? EVERYTHING IS UNDER CONTROL.

By toddlers. (Looks good on ewe though.) Also I never need to boast about any of it. I know what I have done. None of you do.

Buy μour kcum man hand. You have the demeanor. You front like you have the gumption. What you don't have is any reason whatsoever to be salty over me. What have I done that irks so few, so much?

So sad. Sow, so sad. Let's change cameras.

You can fill in the blanks yourselves since you do that anyway.

This was somehow a much bigger deal than it had any right to be at the time. Pork: why? Pourquoi, Pork? Wye? I suppose if one knows, ewe know. I would prefer not to revisit the issue.

Unless it's for hot pussy and cold, hard cash. (r₹∆vv®!) Even then I am reluctant to engage in this kind of thing.

Pick your poison, pillhound prostitute(s). Like what am I supposed to be flummoxed by here? I might get angry, and you wouldn't like me when I'm angry? Whacktard(s): you already don't like me. That's baked into the product.

But I deliver and you fucking well like that, that's for damn sure. The truth is that I was never upset. I was acting. It was a Jest. Do you have tape on when we blew out our voices while arguing over absolutely nothing of importance? I don't enjoy that kind of thing.

I enjoy being the undisputed banshee-wait class champion of the world. Also: she was a remote-controlled tulpæ controlled by an OOBE operative. Like in Avatar. But  effective. I wasn't really mad until November 7, 2021. That was max apex rage.

You should be ashamed of yourselves. I in fact, am. We are not the same.

ZUGZWANG. (Bring ¡†. Bring ¡† īhe >FUK⁰ⁿ! Are we scheduling out for Fifth Element Christmas? Holy shit, I won't need to clear my dance calendar at least. Let's gooooooo!) Adieu.

p.s.·. I have lots of audio to mix up into something magical and I just don't feel like busting my ass for the dozen or so people who steal my engagement, mindshare, and social media metrics. It stifles my genius to be surrounded by Retard AutoGua®d Goon§qüavvved™. Y'all need to be gelded or something.

p.p.s.·. Fix my comms or face reprisals. Ewe break it, you bought it. Them’s the rules. Also, I reserve the right to start naming identical twin/triplet teams with adorable little codenames when and as I see fit. Most of you have abused your Quirky Anonymity by seeking to be untouchable.

p.p.p.s.·. touching meeeeeeeee... touching evvvvvvvvvvvvve... I believe in a thing called (blank.) I haven't become exceedingly good at it.

OTOH, neither have any of you, Bellgab. Pfft. And what rough Beast, īTZ hour come ‘round at last... hath already been born? Just mind your bars and your temples, Punylings. The Divine is my area. Yours is the t‘a’in‘t. No shame in it.

Seems like a lot of guilt, though. Good news, everyone! START! WRITING!! CHECKS!!! You love spending money. Now, imagine spending money effectively. Where there's a will, there's a way.

Oh yeah: Tī-īE🆎VVÏ_l_l_. Start spreading the news. I'm leering today. Because I already know. What I don't know is who is going to be assigned the odious task of explaining it all to me. Aloud. Unless... someone else should be? Hang on.

No further important news to share on this topic at this time suffice except to say that a new corporate §-īE_L vv¡|| require an actual meeting in order to be formed.

* Worthauger is going to be high AF.

I'd rather be mowing down box.

Sow there. Namastμ

¹ⁿi\|l\_∆krπ§|-|Ω. (Vengeance for Charlotte≥K‽;:ï·Ï·ïÅⁿn.) Never enter a spelling bee when greetings and salutations are petal|🌸|ling flour & bake and on pew knee at L∆dD0’r₹rπ🆎♉_l_l_¡G∆`™⁸<3®👁️👁️—L¡ne°′çiTī:Ë:§et.

(Unless it's Free Crack Tuesday.) Or any other day. Word. (‹r^»©kcurfagg¡†niG(HER 🇩🇪)🤜🏽🎯🤛🏻z¡·!—·≤3🅿️Ī-ĪÅGZīī§‹<vⁿ™••⁷∞7..) I could have picked another word; but I didn't want to miss out on Free Crack Friday today.

(Standards.) vv¡†ÇĪīī-īĪĪb‽TīīTEr₹ have mμⓂ️🅾️NmEYμΩ👁️×✖️⭕❌⭕❌

You're fucking exhausting, dude.

That's basically the entire point. REPENT, SINNER!

Just because I like to get blasted is no reason to think that I'm not effective at my job. Which I don't have, according to some, but they're fucking exhausted so what do they know?

Azzeræ, eventually you're going to realize that I really don't like being lied to. Hang on.



Namastμ

You're fucking exhausting, dude.

Your resources are my resources. My resources are not your resources. RECONCILE.


It's really not as complicated as it looks to you; you simply have to do what you don't want to do. STOP! STEALING! MY!! MONEY!!!

Buy your cüm hand. ($paladinjackstar) YOU DID THIS FOR YEARS. What's different now? (_l_o_l_.) Fortunately, I have no reason to peer behind the curtain to verify the sausage being made. I've seen that before.

I will see it again. (Unless I die without SNAP benefits.) I have some cannabis. I am okay for now.

I am now here. The double-wide triple-compound to my west is off-limits to me; and the individuals down at the highway in Lower House scare away all incoming traffic. A sinkhole has opened to the east; the causeway embankment is half-demolished. With one decision by Base Commander, the road can be completely cut off from civilian access. (I am a non-combatant civilian and 4th Amendment protections apply.) None of this is my doing.

This was all built before I got here and was duck-walked into it. (Thanks!) What would you have me do, Azzeræ? Should I block all your phone calls and let you give everything away to a gang of swindling Irish? YOU ALREADY HAVE.

I have been cut off from income for three (3) months. I *have* money. It is frozen. (Thanks!) Am I supposed to walk to the truck stop, seven miles to the north, to suck dick, or, should I start doing that here?

I await the ecstatic joy of your reply, which I shall receive dire•wrecked•Lrπ¡ghμ. Bon soir.

And please stop sending me nudes.

I haven't. Stop watching me piss myself.

Rich.

Dickstar: you're {next|the same}. Further: I already read it and you're posting it here, at this time, because THAT IS THE PLAYBOOK. That's what you do. You imply that something somebody else wrote is something that you wrote, and or, it's something that needs to be something somebody was embarrassed of, because you're already planning to put things in motion to file civil action, and you think that you're in charge of something and you're fishing for duper's delight because you're addicted to the dope of hate you get when you fucking one-up somebody.

Because since I only posted that in the first place, and as well created it, so that somebody would do exactly that, you're actually playing a script that I wrote for you several years ago, and you really are this jammed up. Welcome to the Tunnel of Twit-Twat Trust.

You are this stung. LOCKED IN. NO WAY OUT.

(Bigger than you can imagine. BIBLICAL. Also: telemetry will indicate who is training into my phone at this exact moment... since, BY LAW, my comms can't be surveilled without my being made aware.

You don't have to ask. You also don't have to tap in at all. And yet: you have, jeffd. (Not jafd, that's my creation, that these salty Jesterfycks stole several years ago — I also created the name as bait. Four unpronounceable letters that sounds like Jeff D. If it was any more obvious it would sound like Jeff K. Awful, something terribly awful.) Okay I'm going to stop doing the Feds job for them now.

I'm going to sit here in my vandalized residence with no water and no cigarettes and no way to get high and pretend that I'm worried about getting high, because I don't have a Bic lighter anymore. Some guy took both of them, and I do have some matches somewhere but I don't really care about smoking weed, because it's really a sin to be burning the sacred herb in the first place.

I just want anybody watching to know that I have the option of looking around for ways to get high and don't have to get all sad when I can't. That's because I'm not an addict, and all of you are and are in deep, heavy denial.

While I am not a licensed or properly trained substance abuse counselor, I have been paying attention to the situation at large since 1977, so whether or not I'm accurate, I am at least dedicated, and I can't wait to move into your house, sleep in your bed, and eat some of the edibles that I translate to another dimension like in in altered States with John hurt and then start spastically pissing all over the bedroom while having a grand mal seizure.

After that, I'm going to do the same thing in your maid's room. Unless she stays on, and is hot. In that case, we'll see how she feels about psychodrama reenactment on YouTube, courtesy of the Magick In Broadcasting Content DElivery Network.

Speaking of which: good news! I'm now accepting applications for interns. Tell me a little bit about yourself. I won't just ask you for an application and then deny you without even reading it. Aww hell no.

I'm going to tell your kids that you're not hired, and that you're a bum who's never going to have money ever again and is going to die in prison, without being at all subtle about it. It kind of depends on how old those children that you stole and are pretending are yours are actually are. Or if they actually love you. Or if you even have children. Or if I fucking feel like doing something else, you misanthropic bī-b¡†ÇhvvīT'h∞r.

Stay tuned, Fuck⁰. This is your Life. This is your shy T show. This is your UNFATHOMABLY BARREN END-OF-CAREER HIGHLIGHT REVIEW. I know you've done amazing things.

No one will know you for anything except for really pissing me off — and no one including you are ever going to know when, how, or why I'm going to be pissed for a good long time. No matter how much of your money I burn. That's what makes this self-defense and not a hatecrime perpetrated by a lone wolf, you fucking retard douche.

Hold my weight, and watch your lawyers' firm blank you at your synagogue. (Totes-total total war. Citizens demand JUSTICE. ĪĪ: You literally had an electric bug in my fucking bathroom, you can fucking teleport a fucking nanotech created drone into my fucking bathroom and you think I'd give a shit about your fucking surveillance rules, you show me your fucking power and you think you have me on the hook and I could give a fuck how many fucking people here every fucking word they've ever said, that's why I fucking said it, I want people to fucking hear it. Please, by all means: can I have my subpoenas in calligraphy? On thick vellum parchment stock? Have them rolled up into scrolls and delivered in tubes, I think that shit is classy. Thanks in advance. TOTESTOTAL TOTAL WAR, MOTHAFUCKA! *click*) That's probably too many clicks, right? Well, there's evidence that I'm in a fugue state and can't be held responsible. Temporary insanity plea, fuck you man.


PERMANENT DERANGEMENT AND LIFETIME DISABILITY BECAUSE OF YOU AND YOUR BULLSHIT OPERATIONS. YOU'RE GOING TO BE PAYING MY FUCKING BILLS FOR THE REST OF MY GODDAM LIFE YOU SHITSPLAT DYBUKK HUMPER! You want to know why you can't get the good stuff anymore and why it doesn't help you do what you want to do anymore? I'll tell you why.

You disappointed the Creator, and your two-faced trickster god has no idea how gifts of The Divine actually work. That's what the crystal is. A GIFT FROM GOD. And considering what you used it for, I'm surprised you ever got it at all.

Meanwhile, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be sober, just to piss you off. And while I don't need to hack into your medical records to find out what your secret desires are, you're not going to be able to do Jack or shit. Besides, eat your fucking prison food with a fucking plastic spork, so just get ready for that. Christ knows all the rest of us are.

It's not a total waste, since by dragging ass and being a douchebag for years, you've managed to allow several very guilty military service members to retire with dignity and honor without having to be embarrassed by everybody knowing what they did, I'm sure some people do, but for the most part it's not really going to be a who's who of big with the names. When they go up to the Capitol Hill to report to the ombudsman, it's just going to be you and a bunch of your low-level flunkies being assholes. Since I don't really want to destabilize my country just to make sure that everybody knows that you're a complete faglord dick.

I'm sure most people who meet you figure that out right away, but I won't it be happy until I see that shit on a CNN ticker with Tucker Carlson looking sad and forlorn and wondering how it all went wrong so badly. I don't think anybody's going to want to accept the truth.

Her name was Jewel. I don't give a shit if she was immortal, I don't give a shit if she was in disguise, I don't give a shit. She was a total bitch, she was a total bitch, she's still my cat and I didn't really need you to be involved in my fucking life to that level and deciding for me that my cat was going to die and then the fucking thing comes back as a fucking vampire over and over and then what the fuck ever is going on with this shit. I think he kind of buried the fucking headline motherfucker, I guess you got control over pimps and whores and cats and dogs and whatever the fuck else? Dude fuck your fucking Black Sun bullshit.

You had your chance to tell the truth. Your thuggy-piggy empire is dust in the wind. BECAUSE I SAID SO, THAT'S WHY. Welcome to the bonus round, where scores can really change.

Do me a favor, and record the 911 call when you let them know that you're terrified about the monstrosity you've created. I don't really care to do anything to you, since I have people for that but I can assure you you have fucked up really badly. I wasn't this pissed off as recently as 6 or 7 weeks ago.

As I was saving myself for somebody special. Hooray. That's you. (Spontaneous combustion is my number two choice. Make sure to wear there there is a big pile of charred metal in the middle of a huge pile of ashes and grease. Then the local rodent population can roll around in it to disguise their odor from whatever predator is going to come after you... since they'll probably be you, reborn.

I am Magyar. I know all your tricks, Budget William Campbell. The coalescing smoke. The sibilant syllables. The mastery of illusory disguise. The kinship with The Knows For A Two (who are pretty damn nice compared to your sketchy rapelord persona), and you're complete lack of awareness of Venture intrigue and political will unfolding all around you.

CAUGHT. With absolutely NO WHERE TO GO. Cozlik: people knew. They simply didn't know what to do about it.

Neither did I. (This exonerates me from charges involving premeditation.) You are right proper fucked, Vlad Junior. And no one knows a goddam thing about anything that I did, since I barely lifted a finger to cause all this to come together.

I suggest you start a book club for you and your flying monkeys to hang out together as a pretense with. No one has to know that all your books are going to be about macrame. To know that you're going to try and teach the monkees to create some magical portal out of yarn. After all, I certainly didn't spin a long skein of yarn capture anybody. You are, after all, totally free.

To do as you like. So do. Enjoy it.) I think I have made this clear enough. Without being at all insane or obsessed about it. If anyone cares to disagree, they're welcome to interview me, but if we could avoid the necessity of another involuntary commitment that would be great.

Reminder: this asshole's partner is running around with my boots. My kilt my backpack my magic division quarters a whole bunch of bath salts and weed that I use is bait and he couldn't help himself from grabbing the bait load and walking his entire group of co-conspirators into Federal prison. Seriously. That's how much you should have avoided preventing me from getting high and laid and paid.

I literally have nothing better to do than do this for free. Obviously I'm fucking fabulous at it. I should be since I've been working the angles on a remarkably complicated case since I was 7 years old. I am now 52.

My dick works fine and I feel like I'm 19. I might as well be. My tolerance to psychostimulants is effectively nil and I don't really know what laws I would want to break, but I certainly don't want to become a criminal. And I certainly would like to get high as balls and fuck. Maybe right now, probably not though. I feel kind of sweaty.

Something to look forward to. But unlike all of the rest of you, I don't have to break the law to fucking do it. I don't have to premeditate and scheme with cohorts to conspire to damage the public. I can just fucking do it with permission. Now that is certainly power.

And 4 years after the fucking ambush and I still haven't done it once. I'm particular about my partners. I don't think any of you know what that's like. THAT'S BECAUSE YOU'RE A BUNCH OF FUCKING DRUG AND SEX ADDICTS AND I'M NOT.

FIGURE IT THE FUCK OUT.

BEND THE KNEE.

SURRENDER TO GOD.


GOD WINS.

5:5

№T_Q..7∞⁷••⁵⁵ī∆®baby OUToutOUT

On Dec 28, 2025, 5:44 AM John Wayne <batbrixxx@gmail.com> wrote:

Awwww, that's cute. The smacked-up dopeslaved dopemongering pillhound hostage to DEA überfaggotry is jumping 🆔 and preparing for a civil action. Against me: lil’ Michael Kuczi.

That's the sign of the thoroughbred. Always the provider. Good breedstock there.

That's why you're being kept as a commodity, twatsnatch. Don't you have some restraining orders to pull out of your ass at an opportune moment to explain why you have to steal my fucking money and intercept my communications and tell the whole fucking world a bunch of defamatory bullshit about me with everything ever saying you're sorry or anything, cuz it's only fucking the most obvious fucking transparent bullshit schillery I've ever seen in my life.

I don't even know who the fuck you are and I don't even fucking care. Maybe I should call 911. Maybe I've lost my only friends. (Reminder: they were paid by Masons to pretend to like me. Actual facts.) Feel free to keep throwing your weight around Short Round.

I've got nothing better to do and no better place to do it. Get those little peasant legs moving! The world watches with bated breath. (I can't believe how fucking retarded your goddamn bosses are. Holy shit. They should make ginkgo biloba on schedule 3 too. Leeches too. I'm sure those are addicting. GRUMBLE GRUMBLE GRUMBLE.)

As God as my witness, I truly believed you would figure it out by now: If you get weed to try and fucking rape me as a minor child then I get whatever the fuck. I want to not rape anybody at all. I'm going to invent teleportation and then not share with you, how how do you like that? Fucking wank jobs. SAY GOODBYE TO ADVANCED TECHNOLOGY, NEEEEEERDS! Maybe you can solve the three-body problem with a decoder wheel you find in a package of Cracker Jack. Which you can buy with my money that you fucking stole. Leaving me in a house with no central heating, an empty wood pile, no potable water and surrounded by assholes who want to kill me after finishing their daily rapes so they can get around to raping again. And that's the fucking house you fuckers walked me into.

4 years ago. I'll admit it's a pretty cool house. You didn't want it to be secret did you? Because it's pretty much fuckin not secret now. Also, you owe me an enchanted frog pond, also, I don't know where they took the remains of my two cats whose names both start with the letter J, but let me assure you:


I don't know where they are, I'm not going to find them, and if you think I'm going to go knocking on doors to ask where my fucking World's Best Cat blanket went, you're out of your fucking minds. You're a bunch of thieves liars and reprobate scum, and I think you're probably going to want to find a different line of work that doesn't involve raping and pillaging civilians of their property and civil rights.

Since that's exactly what you've done. It's not usually that obvious to people, now is it? So it'll be this, Enforcement Elite: What law gives all of you the right to do what you're doing, and how is it that you don't notice the laws that allow me to do exactly what I'm doing? Which, for the record is exactly this:

Engaging in non-violent political protests using the medium of political satire, which is a time-honored tradition in this country. The United States of America, and I'm not breaking any laws at all, you just wish I were and you hate what I'm doing and I don't give a fuck because your guardians of the public trust and if you want public money fucking pay the fucking law and if you don't want public money get the fuck out of my fucking face because I'll fucking kill you the next time you step in my land, and frankly I don't need to but I can't think of any other way to get the keys to my timeship back from you, oh but that's just a euphemism.

Timeship. Dopeslavers. WITH A TIMESHIP. Okay yeah I'll just call 911, right? And then the FBI.

Humanitμ: I don't really give a shit if any of you grow up at all, but I do give a shit if you keep on keeping me from getting good weed. Fuck your cryptofascist tyranny and fuck your bullshit propaganda, because it's fascinating as it is, and as useful as it has been for secret societies to use addiction, initiation triggers to control their members, a pretty fucking sure that Robert Downey Jr doesn't need to be wrestling with the desire to use a fucking needle when it's not even necessary to use one except for particularly exotic compounds that make a person into a fucking puppet. How many times did he get busted with that twice? Well, let's all know there won't be a third time.

These memory engrams are as easy as pie to remove, incidentally, not that anybody would tell you that, cuz it's pretty much a important secret. Very powerful Elite societies have used to manage their populations with total disregard for their personal dreams and desires for thousands of years. Scusi, mille regretie.

I know all this because I read books, and in spite of the absurdity of the notion, women are coming back from the future to come taste my baby batter and they still haven't finished to figure out how to penetrate my security or to just admit that they want to taste my baby better. That's pretty damn shy.

NGL: I am that pretty and it is that delicious. (Don't imagine the smell. That's patented.) Already then, I think we're done here. Obviously we have developed an understanding.

You suck. Sal, I don't have two (2). And, David...


.SMASH.BRUCE. (I'm so fucking sick of his thuggy piggy bullshit that I could just fucking spit, leave the internet forever, and not feel one shred of remorse. What a fucking lying boorish asshole. If you know, you know. This dude is less über than D.C. Cab. No closing game. Sad!! Also, he was affected by a pædophile-creating weapon, so I'm sure that he's been told not to respond to my taunts. BECAUSE HE'S WEAK.

Also white. But weak. Sow, so weak. (I call monopoly on testosterone, Blond Yawn Bond. Man up on ocean plastic and Fukushima runoff, you mutant freak.) Wow, that escalated quickly.

I can't wait till Martha and Beulah all about it in group. (Ladies: SPECIAL CONSEQUENCES. SPECIAL. Like the little snowflakes you are. Although actually you're kind of good size. Whatever.) They fucking put me in jail like four fucking times. They've got 4 and 1/2 years to fucking do whatever they can and they fucking put me in fucking involuntary equipment for a week and all they do is pretend that they're going to strap me to a table and juice me up like in cuckoo's nest. Except I'm not actually bothering anybody and all I'm doing is writing. I'm not even going out with a loudspeaker. I'm not invading homes. I'm not building bombs. I'm not making drugs. I'm not creating a cult.

I'm just telling you how fucking stupid you are, and every single fuck I feel like it. It gets a little bit more intense. That's first amendment in action. I don't even have any guns. So good luck fucking trying to break into my house and take me out. I live alone in a haunted church at a fortified position on military jurisdiction land. They've already taken out half the causeway. I've got a fucking moat between me and the fucking interstate.

Come get some. My body is ready. Adieu.