https://youtu.be/REPksZAArw0

It's time to start thinking about Merch. Obvious launch product: cat toys made from plaster molds of my penis. Pricing tiers based on level of tumescence. What are you waiting for? ALL THIS MONEY!

LEFT ON THE TABLE?? (Well, after all: it is my dick.) Make the magic happen, Royal Marketplace Queer–Queen. Let's gooooo! 😇🦾🍾

... I don't think I even need a job.”

I didn't think we needed him, either. A man was wrong. ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Meet a new boss; probably not the old boss downloaded into a synthetic battlemech. (I'm totes fibbin’.)


Hungary's Election Sends a Jolting Message — to Democrats
written by: Not Necessarily A Mewling Coterie Of Rogue European Ex-Mockingbird Staffers Who, I Guess, Have Jobs (but not Steve Jobs; who is presently serving a sentence of penance as a high school guidance counselor and a substitute teacher in Hell — allegedly) And Are Therefore To Be Respected, Unlike Some tick-RAND-tock/Dough ClockWERK Proletariat Untermensch Stenographically-Inclined Journo-Monk-Key.
satirized by: Ⓜ️>Ê!<!Jå⁹›kstä⁹r, D.O.D, d.0¡v¡.🅱️, D.|_.💎

allowed by: Nunμa goddam biz•Ness


===={ARTICLE BODY CONTINUES DEMONSTRABLY EDUCATIONALLμ, FOR GAY HALFTARDS}====

The Hungarian election was a setback for MAGA. But the winner’s campaign should be a wake-up call for Trump’s opponents.

By Alexander Burns
04/13/2026 12:01 AM EDT


Alexander Burns is POLITICO's senior executive editor, North America. He was previously POLITICO's head of news. He has covered elections and political power across the U.S. for over a decade and co-wrote a best-selling book about Donald Trump and Joe Biden.

===={NOW, THAT'S WHAT I CALL A GOOD BUY LINE!!}====

The defeat of Hungary’s prime minister, Viktor Orbán, should deliver a sharp jolt to one of America’s two major political parties.

Oddly, it’s not the Republicans, deeply invested though they were in Orbán as a fellow traveler.

There is no question that Orbán’s downfall is a loss for MAGA-style politics and a reminder that even a developed system of so-called “illiberal democracy” has its limits. President Donald Trump and Vice President JD Vance committed personal credibility and political capital to sustaining Orbán-ism, including by dispatching Vance to campaign for the premier in the final days of the election.

The outcome is a setback for the White House and a humiliation for its best friend in Europe.

But the sharpest message from Budapest should be for the Democrats, strange as that may sound.

That is because Orbán’s ouster represents a new triumph for a particular brand of disruptive politics: one defined by reformist candidates who launch new parties and blow up old ones, winning elections by rendering traditional political structures obsolete. Hungary’s Peter Magyar, the leader of the anti-Orbán Tisza party, is the latest victor in this mold. There is no equivalent figure among Trump’s American opponents.

This is not just the electoral flavor of the moment in Hungary, an ex-Communist country with a population roughly the size of New Jersey’s — hardly a bellwether for the American electorate. Instead, Magyar joins an eclectic club of successful insurgents scattered from Paris and Rome and Ottawa to Buenos Aires and Seoul and Washington.

There is no ideological coherence to this group. It includes a technocratic former central BANKER, a conglomerate-bashing former labor LAWYER, a CHAINSAW-WIELDING LIBERTARIAN ACTIVIST and a tariff-obsessed hotel developer-turned-reality TV star. Magyar, 45, was an obscure midlevel official in Orbán’s party before turning apostate in a spectacular defection, armed with a damning secret recording of his spouse who served in Orbán’s government.

What these politicians have in common is a path to power. And it is one that Democrats have resisted for a decade since Trump became the dominant figure in American politics, killing off the traditional Republican Party along the way.

Since then, Democrats have largely hewed to the command-and-control mindset that gave them Hillary Clinton’s coronation in 2016, the party’s abrupt flight to safety with Joe Biden in 2020 and the anointment of Kamala Harris in 2024 without even the pretense of a contested nomination. At least at the national level, Democrats’ political culture prizes order and nonconfrontation, deference to interest groups and demographic symbolism, reverence for norms over original thinking and big ideas.

The American party system is heavily armored against disruption. It would be all but impossible to replicate here what Magyar has done in Hungary — or what France’s Emmanuel Macron and Argentina’s Javier Milei did before him — and turn a fledgling political organization into a personal vehicle and bring it to national power in a flash. We do not have secondary political parties that can surge to prominence in a single campaign, like Giorgia Meloni’s Fratelli d’Italia or Rob Jetten’s D66 in the Netherlands.

Yet as Trump himself has shown, it is possible to devour a major party from the inside — commandeering an old institution with grassroots support, casting aside its entrenched leaders, remaking it in a new image and earning a fresh look from voters who didn’t like the old version. Mark Carney has done something similar in Canada, with a very different political agenda. So has Lee Jae Myung in South Korea.

It takes a special kind of candidate to carry a political project like this, and probably not one likely to win popularity contests with members of a conventional party committee or legislative caucus. Magyar, my colleague Max Griera reported, is viewed by his peers as stubborn, imperious and self-absorbed, and also manifestly the most lethal rival Orbán ever faced. I remember hearing from a senior Canadian lawmaker that Carney was an academic stiff sure to flop in electoral politics, only a few months before he freed the Liberal Party from Justin Trudeau’s shadow and led it to an astonishing upset.

If Democrats want to take the hint, they’ll give a closer look to the leaders frustrating their peers in Washington and defying their home-state political bosses, and less time measuring the applause meter at various special-interest conventions and donor retreats.

And Republicans would be wise to do the same thing, instead of waiting for an unpopular president in his 80s to name his own heir sometime next year, as the Democrats did under Biden.

The strongest successor to Trump — from either party — would not be a ladder climber awaiting his or her turn, but rather someone ready to claim the role through disruption and combat.

Even power needs a day off. For my own part, I will say that I know little to nothing about V. Orban, other than that he has four children, all daughters, and boldly built a fence to keep immigration in check, back during the previous European Immigration Crisis, or the one before that, or perhaps before that.

NGL: I really don't know anything current about the political situation in Europe; especially Hungary. I make that part explicit, since... my father's blood relatives know even less about me, than I know about the current political conditions where they live.

The big difference between us is that I know that I don't know anything. Whereas, none of them seem to be clued into the fact that I have been unlawfully imprisoned and kept virtually incommunicado... for years. Not just since the ambush. Quite a bit longer than that. And in fact, now that I know Certain Things™, I was looking forward to perhaps making some discreet inquiries. Into, you know... The Reasons™.

Face reality, Bellgab. THE JIG IS UP. You have answers, and I have questions, and, FOR GODDAM DECADES, your ersatz shitsplat jingoist cabal of überpimps and ThugJews™ has seen fit, to leave me in the darkest of ignorances, while spewing mad, slanderous defamation about me, and everything about me... like you were the collective Bizzaroworld version of Clark Kent.

Neither mild, nor mannered; and professionally and perfectly happy to control the skeins of power that guide the mechanisms of the Global Media Establishment. I will say this: you fucking faghag faginlords and juiced-up Jezebel yah-whos had a pretty good run. Like... bravo. Brava? Well, fuck the gender assignment, as there are 10 (TEN) physical Human sexes available to the bourgeoisie proletariat underclass now... not that was necessary to bring back online, but in this post crazy post-CoV🆔 Apocalyptic mixed up world, you dimwit monkeyfucked ratline shit-on birds-on-wires whack-job Commanders might as well get things off on the right foot — while there is still some time left to stop looking like total nincompoops —

STILL! TIME! LEFT! To turn your sleazy lives around, for the better —

BEND THE KNEE! &AND! SURRENDER!... to God.

Just a suggestion, Bellgab, honestly. I am not going to force any of you to convert at the point of a sword, -or- my dick; as fun as that might sound for both of us. Frankly, I wish it were all that simple. Yet we all know it isn't simple, not any more. My Froggy Temple lies desecrated, and, do any of you drooling morons care?

>KNOW: no, you do not care. I can tell by the waves of palpable, seething contempt that emanates from all of you, over The Internet, and lands, poorLμ, twitching at my feet. (Metaphorically.) Of course, there is no proof of any of this being real.

Except for the part where LITERALLY YEARS OF YOUR OWN POSTS DOCUMENTING HOW YOUR TIME HAS BEEN CHOSEN TO BE SPENT; AND THAT NONE OF IT HAS APPARENTLY BEEN IN ACCORDANCE WITH FAIR HIRING PRACTICES. INDUSTRY STANDARD HIRING PRACTICES. Let me guess: I can't join the country club either? But, but  but... why? Pourquoi? Why, Pork-T-Mum Prime–Primogen(¡å)? It's because my dick works harder than I ever would for any of you, I know it. You don't need to confirm any of this.

Trust me: my penis nose knows the truth, and I, eye, eye-Aye know it too.


(DISCLAIMER: I am not represented by any legal counsel, and I have not been advised by any one at all that I shouldn't have posted any of this, I just did it anyway because I thought it would be super duper funny, and it is. It's fucking hilarious, + in spite of the possible damage to my future opportunities and reputation that all of this might cause, I think it's been well worth it.. not just because it's all that funny, but mostly because, I don't give a fuck about any opportunities or reputational hit that I might be taking as a result of continued involvement with you totes ‘dorb’s, yet albeit excreable set of scamps, degenerate reprobates, and whack job imbeciles. You're all retarded, Bellgab. Fuck eunuchs and Drows.

AND YOU ARE MY RETARDS. GET IT? MINE (Facts: No one else loves you, or can tolerate you, like I happily can. Oh, you're welcome.) You got it? You dig? Fuck you, ewe you bastiches — now get out there and make me some goddamn money, and make it that much more worth my expending the effort to plunder your Earthly holdings of gold doubloons, Krugerrand, and exotic and extremely tanned beaver pelts. I'll most likely have lawsuits filed against you in the morning. (Confidence and projected outcome only valid on Guam.) Don't bother trying to hire a fleet of barely-trained scrivener primates to start forging sheafs of rubber checks by the filing cabinet-full.

We're past that point, Bellgab. Bribes delivered by buxom beauties might have dragged you out of the bottomless chasm of fully actionable criminal and civil liability before, but by now, the bullshit has reached peak apex balloon knot barometric reading.

I swear, as God as my witness, that I truly believed you could all, collectively... bring your little high-flying bitch asses in for a smooth, controlled soft landing. Well, who knows. I'm gonna hold on... for just one more day.

And then: IT'S GOOD-BYE EARL!!!)


Like, I just can't even. Eyes on you, Bellgab. FAIR WARNING. (Standards.) Grumble-grumble grumble.

The job market is highly competitive.

The fake-your-death-and-pretend-to-grow-a-dick market, OTOH, seems highly cooperative; in that it seems to have taken four gay Jezebels inhabiting four force-grown foreign-born hatched for the use of law enforcement to sally their salty, salaried asses forth to get your formidable sex cult under control while under Federal investigation for various & sundry sex crimes themselves. (Looks good on μou and your ewe though.)

Formally, I didn't get the job of chronicling the Chronicles of Chronically Smoking Chrono∆`gents. #Officially: no such job even exists. Nevertheless, the perks are incredible. Some days, I think that I don't even need to ever get paid at all!

Other days, I look at the rubble and debris that ruthless squads of vandalizing hooligans have reduced My Residence to — this place used to be an oasis; it is now a pit of filth and squalor, thanks Gabe! — and wish I could buy a cigarette to smoke while surveying the damage... instead of merely waiting for another passing Traveler to “stop by” and look at me pityingly while I unashamedly seek to bum a smoke off of them.

“Get a job.” FUCK YOU. Get a clue, whole Lee shit. I'm so sick; sow, so sick of your asshole fake spouse and their real asshole, fake identity that the no small amount of ambition that I arrived here with has been wholly transmuted into one fervent, burning desire: to publish manuscript on paper that one can roll tobacco + weed with. Why not? It'll be like a Advent calendar. Every page turned can lead the reader to another nail in the coffin.

Jim; Joe; Tim; |_μ; et al.; take your jobs... and shove them, where the sun does not shine. YOU douchemasters work at menial labor employment for minimum wage in order to SERVE AS COVER for your real career work as...

Well. Ewe know. (You) know. Most people figure it out, eventually. Could all of you make it any more obvious? Probably not without wearing horn-rimmed glasses, preceding “mild-mannered” to your full legal name on all your identification, and taking every 15-minute break every four hours in a phone booth.

Figure it out: YOU PEOPLE LIVE AND WORK IN A SET OF NESTING BUBBLES. (>Kudos.) Good. Great. That's great for you. Meanwhile your collective shenanigans and the shadow of their consequences has slowed the spread of The Fallout across The Land... not at all. Not even a little bit. You're not really getting away with anything. №, no, know: 🅿️EOPLE>KNOW.

Without being at all obvious about it. A life built on a ceaseless cartwheel crossing State lines from one carnival’s cloakroom to another’s kitchen in the ultimate simulation of migrant labor: ©ΩΠ†μ Undercover Cannonball Run (HER) Down 2: Electric Avenue to pick up them booger-nosed bratlings for the continued eligibilities of child support and Social Security benefits, woo-whee! I bet that was a fun fuckin’ time. I bet it still is.

Nevertheless: your fun fucking time is fucking over, and if (PROT-shitbag) and/or (PROT-fuckwad) want to sit around on (PROT-comm.platform.faggot.Feds.use) [names withheld by №t_Google for security reasons] and instruct me with increasingly contemptuous language on the necessity of “cleaning (your) house” and “getting a job” we're all going to see exactly what I can do about any of that: exactly what I have been doing.

And more of īT. (Facts.)

Do another one, maybe I'll call in (no Promises) and we can discuss the curriculum on my impending new degree enrollment into the Millwright program at the local Community College once I knock this CSIS degree out of the way this semester!

Z•—GG<3® YOU CAN'T EVEN FIGURE OUT THAT YOU'RE ALREADY HIRED BY A HIGHER HIGH AUTHORITY. WTAF! I feel like I'm taking crazy pills! Obey my dog!

It's cute that you're all defending The Homeland against unlawful collection of welfare. Except, you're not. You're simply engaged in a dog-and-pony shell game show to waste everyone's time so as to increase the likelihood that investigators won't penetrate your Ring Of Inner Trust and take core samples of your rich, creamy nougat filling.

I'm pretty goddam sure they have done that already. (See above, re: 🅿️EOPLE>KNOW.) Meanwhile what hasn't been done is... well, I'm just going to say it's [CLASSIFIED] and say little to nothing more about it, as I have no wish to either embarrass or terrorize certain key members of the civilian population.

&ABD/Or their little dogs too as well. (This is America. We don't frighten bitches to death here; we let the proletariat untermensch servant class bend them over a sawhorse while smoking cigars lit with $100 bills in the remote SCIF-enabled parking facility.) You salty-crusty lot of mad bastard schweinhund fuckers know all this, so it may be a fair question: why am I taking the time to point this out, all explicit–·s¡-i?

Two reasons. Number one, I just like the way it accents the available whitespace, and number two: her name was Jewel. (Fuck your competitive job market and fuck you two too.)

Reminder: your collective makes non-zero amounts of actual cash money from the traffic generated by the content posted on this and other websites under your direct command and control and because your meth-fueled hunger for plausible deniability is a voraciously seething, bottomless vacuum of civil and criminal liability, it obviously has not occurred to any of you (nor has anyone in any position to do so, gently suggested) that all you have to do is... hire me.

ding-ding-ding!! With one deft maneuver, several dozen problems instantly vanish, amir¡†e?

Unfortunately: I simply refuse to work for Canadian peacenik Boomer-bourgeoise Jezebel-fagin scum. (Standards.) We could have had it alllll! Rolling in the deeeeep!!

Pass. Adieu.

Hey, nothing like alienating your base

Who's BASEŒ?

Trump touched The Orb; I think it's academic who anyone thinks his is supporters are. The strangehold of The Hashishim appears to be disrupted. What more anyone might ask for might well be completely irrelevant in the long term.

I know how fashionable a good ostrich pose can be, but I can no longer bury my head in anything. Look around! Things are improving all over! Aren't they?

Well, maybe not for ewe. This is fine, IMHO.

We're back on par with public school. At least things can't get much worse. I'm going to go cry now, bye.

https://youtu.be/qhH0Pcvi2n0

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

https://youtu.be/xVy4yz34New

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