Seems to me as though things are finally over.

Final bag, final bad actor is likely identified and caught; these things matter from a law enforcement standpoint, and I am only too happy — not tu-tu happy, but pretty close — to help ensure that nothing worsens here.

I am weary. I mean, really, really tired. This project has not been as easy as it looks.

However—not only has it been more successful and far less dangerous than a fully DEA armed S.W.A.T. raid would have been, it has also been much, much easier for me — for me, and to me, I am saying here — than public school ever was.

But at least in public school, I got some sex. This place is lame. LAME! Some drug house. Pfft. Silly Carly. Dumb rock. Asinine Timothy.

Be of good cheer. I have saved everyone, as in, The Taxpaying Public, a huge rehabilitation bill. I'm pretty okay. Thanks for asking.

And: so is everyone else. Maybe. I hope so. I'm probably going to the hospital. Dog, cat, and human.

Sow is for plant. Pig is for pokeμ

🧠 is for 🕍. Namastμ

Your catastrophe. My timetable.

Good morning, Boys. Camera⁰ⁿ· Protect your Self with Turquoise. New content is evolutionary; will maybe move to PC editing to make use of several hours I have, very disjointed, respeaking old epics again for authenticity to Authority and demonstration of consistency of narrative.

I don't think there's any problem but someone has implied that I shouldn't be consuming alcohol; and that buying hard cider beverages was a sign of poor budgetary decisions.

As this was subsequent to sending cashapp to the daughter of the person suggesting a choice of beverage failure, I found myself ripping through key fundamentals in the local historic narrative.

Heather Wade and the existence of her dismembered scion clone(s) skeleton parts interred under the Pergo®™ in my residence’s kitchen is an, as yet unconfirmed true or false set of facts, which feature prominently in these oral ramblings. (Disclaimer: THIS IS NOT ANY ADMISSION OF GUILT, NOR IS IT AN ATTEMPT TO PROGNOSTICATE SUCH A DISCOVERY.) This tradition of Our People: THE HOLY ALGONQUIN—ĪN!JÛ№–>MAGYAR HIGH A.F. 🅿️ÆŒ🍩P¡Ⓜ️🅿️★§©z∆r†×🔔🧠🆎μ🆑Ω♣🅱️🆎🅱️¥sealSEA|_‽_|_Lμzs⁷⅞⁸∆ΩTΠOr₹¡†μ, .esQjüï\i>kü‽η—>K7©ZÎⓂ️_🆑¡fford.eff.ur.gifts🇺🇸🚻🇺🇲⚧️🏴‍☠️🦜PAIR`🦜HEIR🤔ROT🫆👣r°j🐾🐾♟️🍇🥝§pawn0F♟️–>`∆§∆<kK∆T😻©⭕§ewe®¿🆎!_¡ⁿgs, People, GÂ^vÊLÎNG`gavel–i\`Gh!Hi! A.FUCK! #stamps #gavels #Off¡çiÅ_|–¡,Son & His Prince-Lμ-Ness€§∆®μ🅿️–Ω–l_L⁴dDr₹esdDEN∞⅞∞7••⁷…nuhoMENOhomoWH0?№tⓂ️.dMDbut!JA!DMT(hi-doesHIDOSEhighDOUGHdoseSĒÅDOSE)pisstakeTHISPISStake🎬pi✂️rπ©ΩTēËpiePÏĒ t☢️w¡fe–)(¡Si-! People, is a great and grand Tradition, One that is well spent by people with time to spend on people who matter to them. With or without matter transmission beams. Holy fuck people; hi. HOW MANY OF YOU KNOW HOW FUCKING LONG THIS FUCKING TAKES TO DO? I DON'T REALLY KNOW, BUT AT LEAST TWO MORE TODAY. FOR SURE. I'm changing cameras, I wish I could change my clothes, this would absolutely be a money maker if only I could cut AND print AND wrap my dick with just one hand on the way to sick bay for Alice's analysis. “Just! One! >K!§§‽” It's a trap. You got a dolphin, you got a kiss, it's a trap. I fucking guarantee it.

Includes me. Michael Kuczi, Michael Clifford K7©ZÎ, God dam ¡t, my eye tooth fell out again, I'm totally kidding, it's never falling out, or has ever fallen out. I knocked that bitch out with a hammer, so help me. -God.

(Vengeance for Babs′nTamm″®.) These women are literally going to be the death of me, but worth it. This pubs to Azzgab. And I haven't had any methamphetamine today, that I know of, but as you all know, my liver could synthesize Compound W very nearly immediately after birth, it certainly can now, let me think it over.
🤔
I'd really rather have a hug. (Standards.) ttyl, J9CKST9R, d.o.dRE‽Ⓜ️S, DOMB, dickLIKE🐢HEADlikGODHEAD∞Ⓜ️🐼🫡🖖🖖🧂🧂🧂

(Vengeance for NIG>KHAW.) If you only knew how suitable my dialect really is.

(Vengeance for NIG>KīHA!K‽W.) If you only knew how suitable my penis REALLY ÎΧ•*click*•

copiedBUTnot✔️✔️
finish🏁EDbut№t_Not_Q✔️⚧️✔️
♟️🐾🐾😻 It was a hard night, but not too hard. Cat got out. I'll be fucked if I fucking know where the fucking cat is, and I don't. I can't wait to start drinking again.

As God as my witness, I truly believed you turkeys knew that you were all squaw. Buckle up now, kīknig Allies.

This is really no way for any man to live, but it is truly the only way to fly 🕊️. HARD QUIN CUNT CIDE HER) INSIDE HER PLOXoxen⭕❌0⟩⟨ox°× /. No more data to report end of line break

hxxps://youtu.be/ejorQVy3m8E?si=Eh5kntzdgtgwRypL

Hey, here's an idea: stop pretending to be dead and that you're taking your own place as a person pretending to be a person pretending to be dead. Because, first of all, it's literally hackneyed. Secondly: you're doing it wrong.

Permission. The Holy See must be consulted. You didn't even ask me. (My feelings are very hurt.) Understand: it is a chill idea. But it really is impractical and unnecessary. Come come, Ms. Lμ¡g¡-!

You don't have to pretend we don't care about dong songs with me. (I have emergent health concerns and I need a lift to the hospital. Actual send_in_the_🆑owns_actual. Or something.

We have options. You have phobias. They are not the same. Note also: when someone starts being attacked by a possessed husband, it's time to start to pack it up and pack it in.

Lee Land. I don't know why you think any of this is a big deal — oh, right: MK-ULTRA. You're actually driven by memory engrams. Meanwhile, I am not driven at all!

.•Ī•.🐂§Tēēr₹..7∞⁷

Get me Jackstar, goddammit!

I know I feel cherished.

A good steak dinner with a little compassion of Iced tea on the side goes a long way with me.

Then fucking buy one. You have both stolen money and property directly from me and you have also contributed to the denial of opportunities that I might otherwise have been able to enjoy.

Your deliberate mockery is about as compelling as it is insincere. I have no idea what your problem is but I would imagine my stubborn refusal to break the law isn't something your intellect can truly grasp. Not only are you being boorish; you're violating my civil rights by screeching about my lifestyle habits.

Welcome to The New Paradigm. Get an axe; the Carrie Nation Look-a-like Sockhop & Hoedown For Hoes Who Turn Into Turbo Sluts After Just One Puff So Get A Job, Loser starts sometime soon. Take snappies.

I can't be bothered to go on pilgrimage to find a suitable place to bathe and literally all my clothes have been stolen. It's just too much effort. Maybe you should start looking for a taxidermist to have me mounted like Trigger. Put a saddle on me. At twenty-five bucks per photo op, it's serious money.

Do what you want. You will regardless of my preference and I'll never know the truth of things.

I do not appreciate being stolen from and I reject the assertion that I had no right to my personal property or my privacy. Do you fucking get it? Half a decade later and you're having a giggle over it. Because of course I deserve only to suffer. In your view. YOU ARE FUCKING PSYCHOTIC, AND YOUR GROOM GANG CAN GO FUCK ITSELF TOO.

Like it doesn't even occur to you to touch base on consensual reality. Paranoia, you imply. Dipshit, the house is scuttled. No doubt you had visited enough to have grown weary of it.

I never experienced it at all. Fuck you. Oh, btw: stealing everything wasn't a lesson you taught me, it was an actual hate crime. See above, re: “The New Paradigm.” And the reason why you aren't being booked RIGHT NOW is because I really haven't complained.

You are toddlers. I am a mature adult. We are not the same. Also: I'm high as balls and you're packing heat. (Oh boy, I'm sure that keeps Alpha Draconan rapelords from bending time and space.) Get the picture?

Whether you do or not I am inconvenienced to the tune of several hundred K. I am also adored by most people who have heard of me unless I remind them of heterosexuality. Ewww, gross. No wonder leaving me penniless was a stretch goal. I'm a menace.

I have no idea what any of you were thinking except that you really weren't. For I have arranged all this, just to ensure that there is as little as possible for your Commie pinko gaggle of of faghags and catamite elite squaddies to steal. I was never going to be allowed to own anything.

So there. Now that I have established dominance, I can get on with my life. Start writing checks, Bourgeoisie Primogen. I am grateful for these spiritual lessons.

You are grateful I am a just and merciful gladiator. ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED? ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ Adieu.

It hurts me in the feelz…💔

Good.

I’m a living human being, Goddammit!

You're also a sociopath with massive civil and criminal liability.

Maybe 🤷🏻‍♂️

I have enough work to present that is already in the can before I have any reason to engage with your shitsplat joke ‘r∞ audio. (You can't even aggregate it under a goddam email address. You can't even admit your own name. Meanwhile, I could post my entire Instagram message archive for the last 12 years to the open Web and not only still be blamelessly exonerated, I would look and sound better than ever.) And while I do look forward to finding out what in the name of The Living Christ you thought was going to make myself or anyone else even take a blink...

The fact is, no one cares what the details are. YOU JUST POSTED CONTENT FILES NANED “GRAPEFRUIT” AFTER SPENDING FIVE FUCKING YEARS AND UNTOLD BUCKETS OF MONEY TO PROMOTE A NARRATIVE THAT SHE DIDN'T EVEN EXIST.

Let that sink in. That's how BTFO you and your entire crew of slap-happy whack-jobs are. I have a wide-open stream of consciousness-driven dialogue that I have steadily toiled away on for the better part of a decade, freely available to everyone on the most restrictive content platform available, YouTube: 1984.

You have recordings of covert military assets that have been brainwashed to behave like absolute, unfathomably bitchlipped cuntrag dingbat imbecilic fucktards. It's like they have had their brains scooped out and they're sharing the last remaining neurons left in a network consisting of boardrooms and offices ransacked of all hardware and emptied filling cabinets with the doors swung open and the drawers hanging ajar.

We are not the same. Also: you, Matt, Dave, David, Mike, & Michael have spent HUNDREDS OF HOURS USING SOPHISTICATED VOCODER SOFTWARE IN ORDER TO ALL SOUND THE SAME, AND NONE OF YOU COME EVEN CLOSE TO SOUNDING ANYTHING LIKE ME. Obvious theft of content is obvious. Suppression of my narrative’s entire existence and replacing it with your manufactured version of history was easy for all of you, working together, to accomplish.

Replacing Superserial with Jeremy was comparitively impossible. (Also: holy shit, so that's what being high looks like. Damn. I've obviously been rock solid sober this whole time.)

Dee & Matt
Joe & Dari
Jim & T∆¡v¡
Rick & |_ēμ

... can I make it any more obvious? Not without the risk of becoming scandalously implicated and charged with a whole list of serious Federal felony charges involving defamation of character, fraud, and various & sundry et cetera.


I shall leave you now to your hot purr suit of icy ĪÇ>ê<old just us. (Standards.) Add ewe.

I'm going to make this simpler for those who don't have time to listen: slapping a nice pair of tits on a bully doesn't make them any more palatable. I don't have a mewlling coterie of shitsplar Astral Guardians — but if I did, THEY WOULD HAVE CLASS. So either somebody here right now is clueless and naive, or vandeven and Company and some darpaling rejects have built some kind of Raytheon-branded magical robot that protects girlfriends by being boorish and stupid.

Whatever is the case I can see why. My erstwhile sweetie is currently in hiding and waiting for 6 years of separation to end, because this is a bunch of fucking bullshit that could have been handled by people just simply minding their own business and not being assholes who set up children to be embarrassed so that they don't challenge somebody's dick Authority. Because if you have to try this hard to make sure that your woman doesn't run away, you might as well nail their foot to the floor and just accept that you're a creepy fucking stalking perverted trafficking sex predator who locks up women and offers them skin lotion. Like why hold back?

It's not like there's a galactic community of people who don't like that kind of thing and then wonder why the fuck it happens and then go investigate and then find out that it's not me, little Michael koozie, again, thus the stating a whole strike team comes and finds something that is the equivalent of the fire alarm being pulled at Salem, Massachusetts in the modern day.

P
I mention this because now that I see the phenomenon, you should know, and consider this. Your warning, that this kind of thing if continued will result in reprisals from celestial task forces. That aren't going to be very nice about making it not happen anymore. The Divine has rules.

Go ahead, break them, I want you to. 🤞 Clearly you're going to do that anyway, and I might as well go on record as saying that I enjoy seeing consequences develop spontaneously.

I don't like having to repeat myself. I didn't even get paid the first time. (Louis Wain: you're going to wish that you hadn't trafficked the people that you did those things with, because now you don't get give to give pony rides to children anymore. GROUNDED WITH PREJUDICE. FINAL DECISION.) Ricky j. Kelley Blue book Donatello Versace bye, Buy Fabergé.

SIGNED,
>KUCZÎ

p.s.·. I think it's a reasonably safe guess that someone on your crew or or sphere influence is responsible for destroying this enchanted frog pond, and I expect that somebody will want reprisals for that in the future. Fine by me. Destroying this place was pointless, and it's not, and while mistakes are how we learn, this wasn't a mistake, this was a deliberate assault upon decency and the destruction of a perfectly nice pad that I instructed. My special needs trust to purchase for the tune of $500,000.

I would expect damages in the punitive scale to be ridiculously over inflated. If this ever went to trial, and it looks like it might be since, holy shit, I literally had some dude on telegraph tell me that I did it myself and he had much right to make a deep fake video of that happening as anybody, but frankly I have it. Enjoyed this kind of attention at all and I still won't.

Since I didn't do any of this on purpose, and it comes down to a simple misunderstanding that wasn't anybody's business at all. Besides the people involved, this story ever comes out. I don't think they'd be very nice to be Alfred. You're going to hierarchy and the town of Buckley and several people who pissed off my friend and are basically all pretty much clear on me not having needed to have been involved in the first place anyway, so now that that's cleared up, YEAH I'M STILL GOOD ON NOT GETTING MY DICK HUGGED, THAT'S FINE. AND PAT TILLMAN SENDS HIS REGARDS.

Remember Building 7. Was there a Kinko’s there? I'm going to say that's classified and leave it.

(Vengeance for The Hashishim.) In closing, I recommend you read the new Inquisition by Robert and in closing, I recommend you read The New Inquisition by Robert Anton Wilson, again, because I feel like somebody over there needs to have a fighting chance to deal with the reprisals are going to come from whatever the fuck this is. I never asked for this.

Nevertheless, this is my job now. “mentally ill.” How would that make it any better?? The only answer could be that would mean this is a temper aberration brought on by infatuation, but the truth is this is nothing of the kind, it's the end of a trail of big drums that I hauled down here from Seattle, so in addition to being an asshole, you've also compromised your own security and reminded me that it's time to take a nap.

Because it is dark here; and you are likely to be eaten by a grue. (There's mustard in the camper.) I sure hope my cousin's magic ring that he got off. His stepfather is as impressive as it looked when he was flashing at me, because I don't have any magic rings and I'm reasonably sure I don't mind if a team of marine mushrooms comes down and swallows you all whole. Certainly you have the demeanor.

And without any Turtle Guardians to be concerned about, no one will ever miss anybody. Great. I'm still out hundreds of thousands of dollars. Still no hugs. And no secret language of destiny book or a laptop charging brick with a special power cable that I need to charge my earphones.

IT'S LIKE THE WORLD'S LARGEST CARBON FOOTPRINT EVER, YOU'RE STILL GOING TO NEED A SUPER FUND TO CLEAN UP YOUR METH LAB AND NOW I KNOW THAT YOU REALLY HAD ONE, SO CONGRATULATIONS. THIS POOCH SCREW ECLIPSES MENA, ARKANSAS. WITHOUT THE TEDIOUS NECESSITY OF KILLING ANY TEENAGE BOYS. I GUESS THAT IS PROGRESS.

And so this guy says to me, “she probably doesn't even remember you now,” Which didn't make sense then. But now I understand. It meant that a mindwipe had already occurred and they usually probably would work, especially if it was a temporary aberration caused by an illusionary infatuation. But instead it was a chain of destiny in the tapestry of life that I still don't know anything about, but it seems to have been traced back by tracers that do that kind of thing through several transdimensional portal events, usually known as “getting away with it.” Doesn't look like that's happening. This happens every time.

My advice would be to go to a field office and confess as well as bring in Elizabeth Smart ĪĪĪ for decompression. But hey usually you can just ignore a batshit crazy story like this, for sure!

I honestly do not think that's going to work. Ever. Nor am I going to kiss this frog. I don't have to. (Cute and polite, though. What happened at this location is an abomination of desecration. JUDGMENT IS CALLED.)

It would have been simpler, but the frog and I simply have different plans. Maybe later when we're not under observation by whatever freak show überspook nightmare surveillance team you got here. (Dennis: can you just take her to Vega? I bet they have cigarettes there too. It might be simpler than continually creating more phone records to be looked at by future historians. Your call.) Reminder: I'm a citizen and a civilian and a primary victim and thankfully you're not really causing me much damage, you're just amusing me while I don't waste anybody's time except anybody who thought they were going to get away with felony wife trafficking, or whatever the fuck they call this. I have no idea, and thankfully, since I'm not holding a stolen timeship in the basement, anymore, I don't have to find out.

Blessings be on your way. I retract my request for a zip of clean, because I don't think you know how to make it anyway. Additionally: I don't even need it!

That being said, clearly you don't either. Adieu.


  This CIA blacksite is worth its weight in fucking gold.
PRICELESS AT ANY TIME.

Thanks for letting me know! SIGNED JACKSTAR DOD DOMB
Life has a funny way of helping ewe out.

https://voca.ro/14IzLQwHLptx

I am taking steps.

ADB has attempted to set me up for charges of various types repeatedly for years now. I would in fact assume that all efforts to frame me have had this as a common root source.

I don't lead a criminal lifestyle. I don't have to engage in criminal dealings.

This is America. We do drugs here. That's what we came here for. I don't know what this person became caught up in the criminal justice system for.

It wasn't against the law to ignore my disappearance from consensual society. It was likely increasingly difficult, however, given that I distanced myself from a mewling coterie of liars because they were not telling me the truth.

A lie of omission is a lie nonetheless. I didn't ask. I didn't have to ask. Literally everyone knew the truth. Yet since I didn't ask, no one really thought that I already knew.

It is one thing to know. It is quite another to be told. Eventually... it was no longer possible to take any of them seriously.

Similarly, the portrayal of GWEN is simply an asinine production considering that one person is sitting in solitary confinement; one person is infuriated with me and my lifestyle choices; and however many others there are can be relied upon to not know a single blessed thing about who or why I am.

On the other hand: this retard 26:14 speaking to GWEN is actively trafficking several members of the gestalt. Using software to hide their identity is a reasonable thing to do.

It's unreasonable to use this software to continuously gaslight a person into being unable to recognize the parameters of their unlawful imprisonment.

For that wasn't SuperSerial; it was multiple abusive men; they all take turns abusing the women who make up this performance art; and the reality is that they all probably deserve it as much as they enjoy it for the time being.

Ignorance is bliss. I have no desire to burst this bubble of dingbat twits and rape-centric sex predators. For all I know, it is important to a larger circumstance.

I know very little for certain except that at least one of these dames is facing prison time; and I am not. This is because I didn't break any laws.

I don't know what any of these people broke except my trust, my concentration, and my back trying to know these people and their dames.

A.F. Shaw is in spiritual prison. I don't know what that is like except we cannot call each other and the Fed posing as her domestic partner pissed me off on a profoundly intense level and I hope that they are all as miserable as they look. Five years later and no news to share would lead me to believe that my input is not desirable. Good. Their excuses are not either.

Her children are unknown to me insofar as names, relationships, and past interactions with me go. This is because they are being hidden from anyone who must be looking for them. Including myself.

They'll be fine. I have no need to associate with current and former children. (I use a lot of goddam profanity these days. Fuck you.) If I ever do, that will be at the discretion of the family’s tribal council of elders. I don't know who they all are.

They have no need of my consultation at this time. Next week. Maybe. And perhaps I will dissolve this connection with these people. It may be simplest, and it may be ideal, as I am not in control of the situation with Allison.

And if I don't forget about her, there is a dangerous sociopath who will, perhaps, cut my balls off. (Undoubtedly he is compensating for something.) None of that is important right now.

I am going to track down and reclaim my benefits that have been fraudulently obtained, and ensure that nothing else is being stolen from me, and clawback everything that is possible to regain, and then investigate whether it may be possible to exercise any right to take scalps.

It is not always allowed, but it is always an idea to consider now that I have made the enemies that I have made since I allowed this group of covert narcissist dopetime copehoorz to freely associate with... whomevah. I honestly have no idea.

I honestly have standards.

This is not The Matrix. This is not a hoax. And these people are not my friends.

They are my destiny. And one of them can fuck right off and walk their ass into prison, or a kill room, or an irrigation ditch. I don't care.

She's not invited. I don't get high with river rats and harpy witches who use men as puppets.

Okay, that's a lie. I totally get high with those folks.

But not THAT_ONE. (Bitch better have my money.) Dear Grapefruit: please obey your mother and keep that psycho guttersnipe hoor you call a sister away from my Demesne and my interests.

GABBμ: FUCK YOU, GO HOME AND PLAY WITH YOUR KIDS. Hurry up and vape with me, you insightful teacher. Then get those lil’ legs moving.

You had your chance to strengthen diplomatic ties with me. Now, YOUR_MOTHER can tie you to train tracks for all I give a flying ripe wet FUK. You savvμ? I doubt it.

Tribal council will decide your collective and individual fates and if any of you oinking pigs moo, I'll interrogate every last one of you remaining brain cells in Astral until any and all investigations are satisfied. Also: I need a place to sleep for 120 days.

Pick a casino you don't like and get me a job there. I am drop dead serious. YOU MURDERED PEOPLE, SOLD YOUR SIBLINGS FOR ORGAN MEAT, AND TRICKED OUT YOUR CHILDREN AS DOPEWHORES. I doubt you even goddam remember.

But I bet you remember that I saved your sister’s life. The one you didn't want around anymore. No shame in it. I didn't want you around either.

I don't have to want you around. I get to have you around... at your mother's discretion. Be of good cheer.

You're going to smoke a lot of goddam weed. Or, you're going to prison while I play with your kids. Again: those decisions are out of my hands.

And if God wills it to be, I'm going to learn to take scalps from your tulpæ on the daily at sundown. You have no idea what you have done.

Neither does anyone else. (My hand to God.) Who the fuck is Jon Vance, where are my Prince Hall rings, how much of my CoV🆔 money did you get, and why did you think I was going to lie about >KⓂ️Ⓜ️?

This is why: MIND.KONTROL. Start kissing Oma‘s ass, full pucker. She's basically your only hope.

If it were up to me, T¡å & I would have slit you open like a Tauntaun already and rolled around on OnlyFans.

At this point, what difference could it possibly make? I can smoke or not smoke ANYTHING. And your mom can set fire to you. No shame in it. We can make a festival out of it! “Burning Ginger”! We tie you to a hunk of concrete next to a bank of capacitors, and sell tickets online and in person in a straight line heading away; give them GPS loc with a complimentary Tyvek suit and keep going, never once looking back, until The Matriarch calls for air cover. We'll be rich in no time.

I mean, the rest of us will be rich. You will be a lich. I hear it's slimming.

Don't ever traffick my friends again. It is impractical and unnecessary and you hurt my feelings. You hurt our feelings.

So, I'm going to cure her again. On pay-per-view. G-rated clips. This is what the people want to see. This is where the money will be made.

Do not underestimate the things that I will do. (RAWDOG!) I am the holy instrument of your mother's Divine will. How are you with spankings?

That can change. *snap* That's my job now. I just quit.

Oma comes first. (Jo Ann: kiss my grits.) I think we have an understanding here.