Darling: I had nothing to do with the bridge. Everything else, however, was me, proving to you, the following three items:

#1) URMO doesn't need a six-year-separation period. What a (blank).
#2) URDA didn't need to be QUITE so persnickety on his security protocol, however... COMPLETELY UNDERSTANDABLE now. (I can explain in pillownaise OR mashed potAYYYYtowed-car-talk, later, if you are not following along here. No surprise, this is getting ridiculous even for me to keep up with it, and I'm writing it, lol. Think I will remember tomorrow? Fuck no. I will only bother to remember that, no matter what, I'm not going to hear anyone telling you that Jackstar doesn't deserve ewe, you, or (You), lol. And, we never wanted different things, in fact: we never "wanted" ANYTHING AT ALL, haha. tl;dr: I still can't talk to either of your parents... or, really, anyone at all, but I am confident that they will have softened their attitudes towards me now that My Dem, On Pillow/Strate[SHUN] IS OVER. (dude, how many husbands did Liz Taylor have? BRB I'll go on a vision quest to master necromancy, okay? Then you can have their money to shake your finger at. beacause, bee tea dubs... CHARLIE IS ALWAYS LISTENING and JACKSTAR WAS ALWAYS A LOSER... until OXYGEN GRANTED. (And I still need three surgeries, so, hey, you can probably intercept and sell some more opioid shipments, eh? eh? eh? HOW ABOUT A FRESCA WITH FENTANYL BEVERAGE, CALL IT "7-UP WITH HOPI-ATE-DA-DOPI" Just make the can bigger; the name of a product don't matter when it's got fentanyl in in it, right?
WRITE? lol, rite.
#3) I MOS DEF NEVER CHEATED ON YOU, HER, GOD, HEY, ZEUS, DID ION STO--*thunder* okay, okay, I won't shout the rest... I DIDN'T CHEAT. AT ALL. Consider it "proven." And if that isn't good enough for you and your coterie of mewling sycophants, well... anyway, whatever, it's years later, and no, I am not mad or upset at all. I don't think YOU or HER did ANYTHING wrong at all! (When you find out how I did all this, you are going to be SO impressed, so when Jake & The Fatman is over on the telly, and THE EMERGENCY is declared over (D.C., the abbreviation for "District Court" is what I have been thrown into this whole time, and I am disappoint--I was armed for being thrown into woodchippers, briar patches, a shower of reigning pussy, and of course, Bitch Lasagna, so... well, anyway, you took so long to tell me about... ANYTHING AT ALL, I just decided to start drinking (blank) again, and, let me tell you, I sure am glad I did. Because I guess you were right... we don't belong together, I am not worthy of your (blank), and you really did need to KNOW that I LOVE your SONS. (I really do, lol. That's why they aren't ACTUAL_PIGEONS now. They are love. They are my... The, uhl... wait, hang on

... Family? (*sounds of Cubans conferring are heard.*) Look, A.F. Shaw, it's like this... you might have to be turned into 3 18 year-olds while your Higher Self comes down from Asgard and lives 16 years in public school as a nerd who cant breathe nitrogen, or something, first, because, look, I don't know what to tell you... your employer, your dad, your husbands, and your girlfriends ALL might be on the hook for Baltimore's SUPERfund payments now. Because, like... did that *key* critical infrastructure bridge just get PLOWED THE FUCK UNDER by a computer being guarded by 22 seafaring Injun Pyre-Rats? WTAF? ffs, why didn't you just, like... crash the ship into the Georgia Guidestones? Seems like that could have worked to avenge your stolen valor and your hurt fee-fees enough to persuade me to, you know... get a job. Or something useful, since i know it looked like I was such a loser before. Did everyone buy it, then? Wow. Yeah, that is funny, but, no, really: I am a Sourceror, and you are gorgeous, and Gabrielle and Gabriel really were totally fucked until I figured out a way to, you know, "rescue them." Did they ask to be rescued? I dunno.

I didn't ask to be a mother after being raped and left for dead, and, I wouldn't change a thing. NOT ONE THING. I AM A MOTHER AND I ALWAYS WILL BE. Oh, I'm sorry; did I disturb your concentration camp's "EMERGENCY NO CONTACT EMERGENCY"? Oh, fuck me runnin', I sure hope not!

<IRONY.OFF> Hey, look: It's Sourcerin' Time/Hour, ofthe/^the, and yeah, I get why you got me that book. You thought I had no chance to succeed, and you thought I was a retard for what I was doing. (William Cooper was an arrogant kunty-bastard, ayep... but that descendant of his, even worse, lol) I am sorry that I could not find a way to explain to you that your concerns, while not baseless, were certainly nothing to be worried about at the expense of your what-was-once CONSIDERABLE FAITH in me, and in Jesus, and in God.

KNOW ME
TRUST ME
BELIEVE ME

WE DID IT. ME, GOD, AND HIS LITTLE BITCH-ASSED HANGIN'-FROM-A-TREE "MIRACLE BABY, IMMACULATE, OOOOH!" BRAT-WHIZ-KIDD, HEY ZEUS! ("Zap!") Jesus Gorge is lame. Bring back Jesus Gomez, please! AND, RESURRECT RAUL JULIA, FOR THE LOVE OF... oh, wait. Who am I talking to again? Oh, well, fuck it, probably some kind of "NO CONTACT! BOO! HISS! ("Garcon!") LIST! BOYS? OH, RITE! (Jackstar pauses for emphasis and to think.)


Huh. So, that's why "garcon" is "boy" and "girl" is "mademoiselle," wow, it's not to make me feel terrible for yapping, but instead, it's to make me realize, holy shit, they couldn't have Mrs. Wilson teaching that to me at 7th grade, that's Mary Kay and Vili Fualauul/Juul\Zuul, waiting to happen all over again. Anyway, mark my words:

ETERNAL VIGILIANCE... WAITS NOT FOR LIBERTY, BUT RATHER, WAITS FOR JACKSTAR 2.

*blink*

Code: [Select]


Thank you kindly; today deserves a new remixed OST for upcoming theatrical release of the reboot of "Bridge Over The River Kwai" but, number one, imagine the bellyflop sweat down at the pool party (hosted by R.I.C.H.T.E.R.--Les Nessman Pre-P.(You)., Common Era Productions), or not, really, as in either case, it's a sad and tragic thing that after all underestimatin'... and all that singin' of The Star-Spangled Banner I did in 2nd grade as practice for singing for the Seattle Supersonics (wtf, LFP, some cities just have all the luck, right? thugj lifej, lolj)... I still didn't wanna spend the day recording sarchastic Yankovic-style re-dubs of Our National Anthem, which, while initially might seem like a good idea to someone with a grand love for showmanship, such as for Liber "Ace Crow Leigh" Alistair, Dave Tamas, and Mr. & Mrs. Kuczi (up-in-Heaven, not down here/heir, of course, now that would be silly, tee-hee!).... anyway, long story short:

I'd rather be making fun of container ships full of cabbages and kings selling their own family's jewels down by the seashore so Sally Field can come back to youth and be The Flying Nun battling The Truckin' Pal, uh, "din is a trademark of The WOTC Corp, Lmtd, LLC", but let's face it.

I'd be dead by Tom's long-range sniper rifle, long, long before it ever would have occurred to me that by daring to start without her, I would be grievously wounding America's Most Favored Rosie, "Mrs. Barr/Arnold\KHAAAAAAAN!", and, i just rememebered, godddam, mang, they wrote her off her own show, lol. So I guess she pissed someone off too, huh? Wow, what's that like? Yeah, so, I don't have her number, never did, Grapefruit77/88 would get SOOOOOO JEALOUS and it's time to stop that pattern of behavior, and, GOOD. Because I'm tired of having to do this garbage nonsense. And so I won't, for even just one more minute... than I have to... to get her to get her to get her together to get her to get her shoes to get her together with her shoes. Point blank period.

Tomorrow I can make my potential career chances die. Another day to wait? No sweat. I don't wish to be misconstrued. That bridge going down was a horrific site, and more horrible still: eh, big deal, nothing compared to watching Grapefruit going down on Papaya while Mr. N. G. N. (PROT-N) watches from stage right, holding an anaconda-sized hosebeast/pocket fisherman(tm) while waiting for his turn to cameo coming into frame, thumbing up a mumbled "ass 2 ass then?" and then sauntering away. Ain't so saunty now, eh? eh? eh?


How about a Fresca? Nah.... how about these sick beats instead? Much safer. Much less political. Much more soothing to my poor, tortured cerebellum, cerebral cortex, and lonely, shriveled twigs & Barry White's Twix bar, which I found shoved into a box of VCR tapes, and oh no, oh no... how will I ever become aroused enough to ever enjoy a wedding night ever again without abudcting (blanks) future progeny with stolen mil.spec.tech?

Oh, well, I can listen to this mix. It's super good. I can also never forget--I did something wonderful today. And no one noticed, of course. Awwww, shucks. Fortunately I did some other wonderful things too, and they were noticed, and I DID NOT SINK THAT BRIDGE.

AND, I KNOW NOT WHO EVER DID, OR CARE TO FIND OUT, BECAUSE WOOOOOOOOT! JACKPOT! HELLO---OOO-OOO-OOO? KUCZI ANSIBLE CALLING TOWER DRAWBRDIGE... CAN KEY, FRANCES/SCOTTCES FRANK AND Q AND JOHN TITOR COME OUT AND PLAY?

NO? OH, YEAH, I forgot. I do smell, you know... kinda rank. (Hath its privileges.) Thanks for the tunage. I really do like what you did and what you do to this stuff, Kaizen, I ain't just suckin' up favors. In fact, I ain't doing that at all.

All my exes are more envious of your body (whatever it is now, they think it's something else, my exes are all cray-cray now I guess) and your success (I turned off my whole (blank) career and plan for YOU, JUST YOU today, and some thought that I would never shut up. Well, haha. If only they knew.

Today is the first day that I felt safe enough to feel like relaxing and forgetting that automated user agents on the Ethereum network have been trading gas for tasks perfomred that were meant to, amongst other things, give herpes to my ex-boyfriends, which is reallyh kinda weird, now that I think about it; I don't actually have any ex-boyfriends.

(All my friends who were boys are still my friends, and don't blame me for anything. Not one single thing. Unless they haven't taken their (blanks) to a bands saw yet. Not sure there, and with that single misstep... THE BUBBLE OF PROPHETIC FUTURE DREAMS COMES TO A SHATTERING CLOSE WITH THE CRESCENDO OF THE GODS.

THIS DAY, THEY ALL PLAY ME OUT AND AWAY, NOT DOWN AND IN. Cheers, m8s. (and thank yout for this indulgence, K. I hope you and Roseanne make it out of quarantine--GUARDS! SEIZE TOM! GUARDS! LOCK HIM UP! AWAY FROM C. KLINTON! GUARDS! THANKS!--and hopefully, if I eat my vegetables and stay away from dangerous brands of instant oatmeal and anti-freeze.. I'll be allowed to let people know who you are. Then, and only then, could I be persuaded to describe exactly how this all got started, and ended up... here? wtf?


Belladonna Auspice Moonshine: holy mother of G-d, I couldn't believe that body (of recording equipment) was just sitting there, getting used by what looks like what happens when Pinocchio (blanks) a Stardivarius. Like srsly, and skill with electronics too. Fancy that. Hey, have you met my (blank), Kennnedy (Blank) (B-x)? I bet you all know each other anyway, lol. Because y'all are exactly the kind of people that I would have previously never been allowed to visit the home address of.


Since I obviously will never learn to control myself, n'est-ce pas? Now, if you will all excuse me, I'm going to go back to ordering more nine-inch long railroad spikes on Amazon so that I can have them shipped here to be used for... well, certainly not a Clive Barker/Val Kilmer cosplay party favor swag bag, that's for sure.

Because that would be uncivilized, and would be insulting to K.D.F. Who, one must think, must often wonder what Japan would have been like if ANYONE had known the truth... even ever me. Because I still don't know. (WTF were you thinking? Oh, right: "omg that is awful. well, now it's time to build a case while being so grateful I never wanted to kiss that fat, greasy nerd anyway," lol, direct quote? Don't sweat it, K.D.F.

You come back and power on self-test with a full green board before you sweat it very long, I promise. I don't hold a lick of malice in my heart for anyone, maybe not least of all you---


YOU, AND YOUR ILK--


but.. I can see why you might be terrified of something happening in another freak morbid teleporter accident with obese presenations, or something. Relax. Don't do it.

DON'T PANIC. I am not the one that's trying to make me your enemy. That's Anne. Who of course, hates me with a fiery passion. (Anne: She tried everything and even showed me her goddam bra while jumping up band stretching for the ceiling for no immediately explicable reason. She looked even better now, when she wasn't a dead ghost at the Ross Dress For Less, that is. STAND DOWN ANNE.

stop freakin'
don't eat bakin'
.... cookie dough? ) Reset, rewind... re-play. YES. TERMS ACCEPTED... unless you want a hug.


4GET NEIN11
REMEMBER TO GIVE EXPENSIVE HUGS
THAT WILL BREAK THE BANK
IF ONE COULD TAKE FIAT
OH, IF ONLY
COZLIK
THEN
I CUD. -KUZ/KUC, ohhhh say, ewe, kan ewe see dat bri dge? OUI, LOL, WEE KNEE THER HEIR. lawl.


p.s.: In retrospect, it may seem obvious now why some thought that it would be unfair to the dude who stole my image and likeness from me, converted those into an A.I.(onstruct with neither my permission nor oversight, then sold the who she-bang to the dude who had done.... well, nuttin' (decorum, please), because obviously... the real me, much more creative than Digital Author Me?

What does anyone think? Who cares, really. This conversation never happened, I am the man that no one ever saw, and I am not trying to get any message out. I am trying to get a message IN, lol. And I think I got it in.

Is it in yet? I think I feel something. Like a single human soul crying out with torment, "Why, God, why? Did Margeret get her (blank) yet?" because I can really get behind that sentiment. Like, I can stand under a shower of mens-true-all (profane: synonym for "juice") and stand there like a Prom ICE Kween. or something like that.

btw: Mr. King has forgiven me, and all it took was to trade him 87 nuns and my fave hoor (from college; don't worry Pumpkin) in exchange for his spoken word promise not to tell anyone what he knows. Seems legit. He probably learned his lesson from that van hit. You know? Because I sure did. Whew. CLOSE CALL, NEST TEAM COME IN PLEASE, PAW? PAW? DAMN YOU, DAD? NEST TEAM, DO YOU COME IN?

(Surreal and subtle, I bet it says that in my psycho profile now, right? Damn, better go update my REDnit/TWIT-ON-EX\Stalk -or- EatCelery, Nerd {it ends 4u}\InsertDatingAppNameFixSHUN*.*ALL


HERe.HEIr.HE=IR=ready for that couples interview about how to lose weight with a magic trinket/fidget yet, Sire? Because, you know, this is all just for fun! COME ON TEXAN MAN!!!!! No sense of hue-more? Awwww. spoon into fruit, sounds like a button, not breadsticks breaking.

There. Now, no one will ever suspect a thing, same as before, ("Lame!"), same as it ever was, ("Dame!") and so now, THE BALANCE OF POWER IN YOUR MARRIAGE (you... vowed what?) HATH BEEN MAINTAINED. ("Tee-Hee!") zZReally classy, seriously, all of you. Tastes like ass, sings like a mounted bass... but still, at least you all got it, what you had to have to advance ALL OF HUMANITY TO THE NEXT PHASE: Class.

(little paper umbrellas available at the gift shop/exit: $0.05 Jackstarbux EACH, gimme gimme, PLEASE!)




..THIS.WAS.THE.ONLY.WAY.(that.this.could.ever.be.funny.and.still.MORK).

..SORRY.EWE.CAN.GET.OUR.REF.UND.NEX.T--->/proof.of.l'haim(LYFE,W3RD).

..Hi! Mom! Jesus said he wont do it! So just hang in there! I'll get a hammer back from GrapefruITitpro99.... as that was the last time I saw a claw hammer coming towards me wielded by the last person I saw wielding my yellow ravenbar, soooo... look, mom, what the efff? don't they have fenantyl in Heaven? Cant they put it in a cookie? Doesn't someone wanna stand at the bottom of the tree and use a slingshot to send cookie-laced fentanyl pods into your gullet, every ten minutes, as routine as clockwork? Because (PROT-J) says he's finally run out of intereseted volunteers, I am no where close to dying and going to Heaven (I'm barely middle-aged, Mom; besides, can't your athlete husband use a slingshot, or does everythign have to be kicked in with his heels? Oh, he wants to use a fly fishing rod on you, ooh, yeah bad idea, and he got his feelings hurt and stormed off, yep, that's Pisces, alright. Ok, I'll fix it. *wiggle wiggle* Alright. I'll do that again in ten miutes, Mom. Because I love you, not because I don't have anything else better to do.

Like beachcomb. *teachers giggle* Now, Ladies, please... settle down.



With anyone but a hung, angry wombman, served up in a clean ashtray, because, Ladies... THAT ASHTRAY IS A TRAP.

RUBBER FEET? ON AN ASHTRAY? THAT IS NOT SOMETHING A WOOKIE WOULD GIVE TO AN EWOK AS AN EARTH DAY CELEBRATION/HOMECOMING GIFT. So, let's all just... wait.


wait.

wait.

hear that?

Paul and Art are about to forgive each other again. *wiggle wiggle* Sorry, I felt like being cruel. Now Garfield and "Dame, Ask Us" are about to forgive each other for having no idea why they ratted out on each other for cashing all those paychecks with Heisenberg's name on them... wait, DEED?

inWHAT, inWHAT-lee/D.I.D.][frank - or - zee] Quinn star as Zorro, The (Blank) Sharp, Pointy Thing? The answer is available next week.

meanwhile, next week, still the same projection: LITTLE MORE THAN NOTHING BUT THE LASH. Seems unfair, doesn't it? That's just how it is.


..IT.IS.WHAT.IT.IS..rite? (EYE) KNOW.

Don't wait for the book. THERE IS NO NEW BOOK. THERE IS NO NEW NETWORK. THERE IS ONLY...

COURT. Wednesday's COURT. (Aaddam's Family? More like bigger naards/vark famly, if one were to ask me, which no one does, so I can see why no one bothers to read anything I write now or wrote before, because I just fucked it all up, didn't i? BLEW IT ALL SKY HIGH, GREAT GOOD GOLLY MISS BALLS OF MOLLY ON FIRE! OVER THE DAM! GREAT THREE GORGES DAM, COME TUMBLING DOWN, INTO THE C-JERICHO-4 AMMO DUMP. SIR! YES, CIRCE! CUR OR DAM SIRE, DOGMAN SUR-- LEIGH, YEAH, LOOK, LOOK, LISTEN, DON'T READ.

DON'T READ.
PAN, ICK, SMELL IS WORSE HERE.

DO NOT READ EVERYTHING.
DO NOT BELIEVE NOTHING.
JUST HANG ON

HANG ON
HANG ON
HANG ON
HANG ON FOR JUST ONE MORE COURT DAY/KNIGHT RIDER MOTORCYCLE SCALE MODEL KIT, AND... WELL, YEAH, OF COURSE THEY'RE JUST GONNA CONTINUE IT FOR THEMSELVES. WHAT ELSE ARE THEY GONNA UP AND FUCK AND DO? EACH OTHER? OR LET US? OR... OAR, WELL, SEND THIS PLACE? UP THE CREEK? OMFG! I am already AS FAR UP THE CREEK AS IT IS POSSIBLE FOR ME TO GET, short of, like, rebuilding the Tower of Babel or something.

AND I AM JUST ONE HUNGARIAN MAN-G/NEG-G! FU, "Key Sir Sow Say," yeesh. BELEIVE ME, I AM ALSO DISGUSTED.

BECAUSE IS SAW WHAT YOU AND ME-LAWN-KNEEL-YA MUST HAVE MOWED, AFTER HAVING SOWED, ALL THOSE GRASS POLLENS, ALL THOSE OPIOIDS INSTEAD OF MUSTARD SEEDS. I bet you thought I wasn't even paying attention, lol. (I have a great poker face. You don't even know if I am fucking gay yet or not, lol, or if I am "merely bisexual." HEHEHEEHEHEHEHEH.

Telethon for "Jerry's Grown-Ups ONLY" plans are NOT set in stone. And, in fact... I and/or WE do not even need to sell my dick suckin' -OR- suck it in, Anon rights at all!

I just liked the sound of getting paid to suck a dick ONCE, and then never again, retiring after JUST ONE (1) DAB OF MALEWHORIN'. HOWEVER:... I have my suspcions. Like, ewe or you or HER or CHE or... ANYONE might have trouble buying the story at that point.

"Sucked one (1) dick and then, never again? Well, what was his name, 400 years later? "James Randy The Amazing SOURpatchCIRCEroar VERSION TWO.POINT.AT.NOT.GAY.guise???" I bet he sucked PLENTY of DICK. Mostly GLASS, though, hhaaahaahh." And, that would be the end of my #Legacy.


So, I will simply wait here. It's cozy. It's not CUM-FEE-KUM-FI. Oh, no. It's... look, it's TERRIBLY BAD SMELLING HERE. AND HAUNTED AF. Other than that: it's fine.

and, I am here ALONE. Cool, huh? Yeah, so as soon as... /waves arms helplessly at lists of anonymous suspects
as soon as the District Court finishes their bullshit and someone comes and evicts Shane What-Kins? No Kins Here from the failedbabyfarm he tried to build next door... well, it's not like we can just start scrubbing and fucking, because obviously, you have questions, well, guess what? BYE, BITCH-WHO ANSWERS-ZUUL is at the door!

WHO'S THAT IN THE REFRIGERATOR? Because, uhm... it's a haunted church, on haunted land, with a haunted garage, and a haunted poison swamp, and now: a haunted poisoned hackneyed refrigerator. Look, I will be honest: NGL, HACK-KNEED "THE FRIDGE" PERRY-MEN is where I DRAW THE FUCK AND RUN
RUN
RUN
RUN IN BACK LINE, LOL.

YEAH. We good. We salty. We fresh.

and THEY are not YOU or EWE and.... believe it or not. I am not walking on heir.


.I.AM.THE.BENFICIARY.
.I.AM.THE.FAILSAFE.
.I.AM.THE.RESIDENT.
.I.AM.THE.CARETAKER.
.I.AM.A.SOURCEROR.
.&NOW,.&HERE,ONE.MORE.TO.GROW.ON:..


.I.AM.THE.SOURCEROUS.NARRATOR.II:.ELECTRIC.BUGALOO.TOO..FU.OLD.BAY.SEA.SUN.MING.THE.MERCY/MARCI..LESS.NEST.TEAM.MAN?..LESS.PROFIT.SHARING..


(*The sounds of a new Sourcerous Disciple being chosen are now heard.*) I told them, but they forgot. "There can only be one." My fault, really.

I only told them to re-watch Zardoz, once. JUST ONCE. They laughed. They all laughed. Hell, I laughed.

BECAUSE, I WAS SERIOUS, BYE-BITCH/BI-WITCH, LOL, BREAK A DEAL? KNOW: NOT EWE, AND NOT YOU, AND NO ONE EVER BUT EXACTLY WHO I SAID, EVER.

AND, HOW THE FUCK HER MOTHER BECAME "A. CHRISTIAN"? I WILL NEVER KNOW. *SIGH* BECAUSE, TRUST ME: I AM FUCKING BORED NOW.

AND, ALONE. *polite* /cheer


Look what you made me do! LOOK WHAT EWE MADE ME D.E.W.!!!!

(Yeah, no shit it doesn't make any sense. Did they scream that at Agatha Christie at her book signings? Did they tell Julia Child that her recipes were shit? DID THEY EVER LET STEPHEN KING BUY A NEW S.V.U.? NO, no. No-no. KNOW: I DIDN'T EVEN GET TO KEEP THE JINGLE.

AND, I LOVED THAT JINGLE. Well, too fuckin' bad. It wasn't my jingle. And so, I said, dejectedly, "Okay." And walked away from the deal. *sniffle*

Get this: THEY HAVE THE JINGLE. THEY SAVED THE COPY. IT'S SITTING THERE. ON SOMEONE'S DESK. THERE'S A BASKETBALL HOOP THAT PLAYS THE FUCKIN' THING WHENEVER ANYONE GETS A 3PT BASKET, WOOP-WOOP, IT'S MY FUCKING JINGLE, THEY RESCUED IT FROM DELETION, AND, SO FUCKING WHAT?

The author is a Pisces. I already burned the negotiations. I haven't seen him IN YEARS. As in, more than 12 months. I forget how long... but the point is, IT WILL BE A COLD DAY IN FUCKING HELL BEFORE I DO BUSINESSB WITH THAT DAMN DAMIEN DOWNER-DUMPKOPF. EVER! I DON'T GIVE A SHIT!

Yeah, it's a decent jingle. So what? Nobody does it bettter... than Grapefruit 5.0-fuckin' Ben & Jerry Stiller, BURNING THE ICE CREAM CASTLE NATHAN FILLION-BILLIONS OF DOLLARS OF BRAND-NEW BRAND-FUCKING-BRAND TEXAS AND TAXES DOLLAR FIAT CURRENCY VALUE... RIGHT INTO THE MOTHAFUCKIN' GROUND! THE GROUND! TO WHICH! IT WAS THROWN! BY THE MAN WHO BROUGHT JERICHO TO ITS KNEES AND BROUGHT UP HIS OWN LODGE, HIS OWN SHAKA, AND HIS OWN BACKCHANNEL TO THEIR OWN DIPLOMATIC WORLD.... Jacque Stardoll Vall-EEEEEEEEEEE (4 Tay-Tay/fROOT), esQ.nee(aigu)accent, KUCZI, FRANKorFRANKerCKOOSEY!!!


that's my name, right? did I spell it right? I thought it was gonna say "NEW HIGH SCORE!!!" when I made you all win The Game for once, SIMULTANEOUS K-K-K-COMBO-COMBINATION PRISONER OF DIAL SOAP WITH TRIKE-LOW-dan,kneelSAN---BUT, MAYBE THIS IS BETTER.

How about, Alli tells me (HER)self? Because, listen up you primitive screwheads, and by that I mean 'READ THIS OUT LOUD, MORONS"



"My name is not Inigo Montoya and I am not going to say that she can't change her family name to Goldwater, but... "BURY TYME SHAW WITH BLOW JOBS" is a much better headline killshot phrase than "BARRY ROBBING SONS BOB SHOW, MIKE LAME, TAMI TOPHER, D'JANGO UNCHAINED, AND T'AMO MACKAY DAY VEE, EMM CEE, TRUCK STOP PROVIDED BY CEE-GEE'S UP NORTH, NOT SPACE AGE OVER EAST, AND, WHAT IS WEST? WELL, CHECK THE MAP:

SWAMP. POISON SWAMP. OR, LIKE... WAIT, WHAT? WHICH MAP? WHICH DAWN? WITCH-BROUGHT WEST? time FLOWS in FLAT SEWER MOUTH/RIVER GUTTER? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?>


stay tuned. iT ends 4U, and I "elle" (You) two. Stay Together. Right Now. Cover Me David Copperfield Cover Dale, Carolanne- A. Lease, and Andy "No More Fatty Cookies, No more Fat Boy Jokes" Andy "Gooseneck" *Coough*Mann... look, I love them too. I even love THAT FUCKING DOG.


AND I BEEN HERE SO LONG, IF I HAD KNITTED THAT DOG A SWEATER? ALLI WOULD PROBABLY TRANSFORM HERSELF INTO A BORDER KALLE IN SWEDEN MARK II, TOO. Yikes!

Code: [Select]

Any questions, Woofsville?

BRING OUT YOUR DRAWERS
LEAVE THE LINGEREIE
NO PLAUSIBLE TO BUY
UNIT OF MEASURE TO TRACK THE EXCHANGE OTHERWISE

BECAUSE
TESLA SAID NO. DEAD IN PRISON.
TRUMP SAID NO. AWAITING TRIAL... WHILE WIFE, DEAD IN PRISON. (MELANIA TIMEKCLOWN #33 IS THE BEST ONE YET!!)
TAMMY SAID YES! (NOT TO ME.) AND, I WAS RIGHT! WOO! WOOOOOO! I WAS RIGHT! HOT DAMN!
FOLGER'S CRYSTALS REALLY DO MAKE A DIFFERENCE! HOW DID THAT DUMB BROAD NEVER NOTICE? OH, RIGHT... SHE DID NOTICE.
*wiggle wiggle*

{SKEKSIES DISAPPEAR.} HANG ON. SHE WANTS TO PIROUETTE.
{NIGGERMASONS CLAP.} HANG ON. WE MUST BE CLEAR.
{PRINCE HALL MASONS HAVE A RITE.} WELL, DON'T GIVE ANYONE A RING, HOLY SHIT.
{NIGGERMASONS VANISH. PRINCE ASCENDS TO HEAVEN IN A RASPBERRY BERET, TAKING GRAPEFRUIT ZERO HERO(HIRO) WITH HIM.} earned! EARNED! EARNED! OMFG! PRINCE IS A MUSICAL GENIUS! DO YOU KNOW WHAT WAS DONE TO HIM?? HOLY SHIT!


Look, Kuczi is a niggername if you ever heard one, so, obviously, SLAVE must be Prince's niggername, ergo... look, I have the Prince Hall Rite Ring. I SERIOUSLY HAVE IT.

* WORTHAUGERa teaches an Old Dog's God a thing or two, with JUST_ONE_FIXX.

Saved by Zero, mothafucka's. SAVED BY LEVEL ZERO, LEVEL ZERO, ON THE LEVEL ZERO: CAN YOU PLAY THE WITNESS? I CAN'T. THEY TOOK ALL MY PLAYSTATIONS.

BUT LEFT THE XBOX X ALONE. WONDER WHY? LOL, DO NOT WONDER.

(*Sounds of The OG Bavarian Illuinati offering Bill Gates' old job to Jackstar are heard.*)



ALLISON "G" SHAW, WHAT DID I TELL YOU? "Destroy him, his gang, take his wimmins, take his job, and burn his chattel-bound-whore's entire thuggy-piggy industry down to the motherfucking ground. Then, LAUNCH THE NEW NETWORK. THE MUHDIXON IN BRUH-DUD-KASTING CONTENT DELIVERY NETWORK." I kept telling you, and then, one day, you came to believe someone else more than me. It was at that point, I decided to O.D. and just, you know... EXPIRESLAVS, SLAVEMPIRE, EXPIRE!

*click click click* What, no rewind? Nope, not at all. I TOLD YOU ALL.

(*Sounds of shuffling up and dealing are heard.*) Hey, knock that shit off. DAIRY QUEEN SQUAW: REPORT TO FRONT. NOW.


Hi Squaw. btw, I have your blanket in my red ryder truck. No BB gu---

(*Sounds of Squaw fainting dead away in shock are heard.*)

LEAVE HER! LEAVE HER! SHE'S TOO RADIOACTIVE! LET HER COOLDOWN IN AT LEAST THRE--

(*Sounds of Cinny Bonnie Tyler fainting while reboots for Dead Calm are suddenly heard coming from all the airport's Muzak speakers.*)

VE, UH, THAT'S A NUMBER, NOT THE... OH. Oh, dear. That was the real lying whore, stored in real frozen carbonite, huh? Well, that explains why I could never get a call back. Don't worry about it. Her husband didn't like her anyway. He was more into his own (blank:Secretary) and undoubtedly didn't know what I knew. How could he?

HE NEVER SEEMED TO BE ABLE TO TAKE ME SERIOUSLY, LOL. "KNOCK KNOCK! WHO'S THERE? HER FATHER? WHOSE FATHER? YOUR FATHER? MY FATHER? WAIT, WHOSE HOUSE DO YOU THINK WE'RE IN RIGHT NOW, IN THE NAME OF THE LIVING COLOUR CHRIST'S? DUDE, STEP OFF, SHE'S TRYING TO SEDUCE ME HERE, AND THEN I HAVE TO PRETEND LIKE IT TOTALLY MATTERS AT ALL, OR THAT IT'S NOT HER FAULT WE'RE GETTTING LITTLE INVISIBLE HOSES THAT MAKE IT IMPOSSIBLE TO IGNORE THE FACT THAT SHE IS REALLY, REALLY, REALLY EXPERIENCED AT EVERYTHING EXCEPT... SURVIVING AFTER GOING ALL IN.

AND WE'RE PLAYING POKER AT CHAPPAQUIDDICK NEXT MONTH, ARE WE? *wiggle wiggle* BITCH, YOU ARE NOT PLAYING POKER AT ALL.

THIS IS CHESS POKER BACHS SINGING, LESSON ONE: THE ROUGE BEAN EEEEEEEERROR YEARS. YOU THOUGHT UNSEEN UNIVERSITY WAS A JOKE, HUH? MORON.


STOP OBSESSING OVER ME. YOU WON. WE WON. WE ALL WON. AND YOU ARE ALIVE, IN THE FUTURE, 30,000 YEARS FROM NOW, DON'T ASK HOW, DON'T ASK WHY, JUST KNOW THIS: IT WAS YOUR DAUGHTER'S IDEA, AND GOD, JESUS, LUCIFER, LUCY, CHARLIE BROWN, AND PEPPERMINT FUCKING PATTY ALL SIGNED OFF ON IT. SO, DON'T MAKE HER FEEL ANY BETTER OR WORSE THAN SHE ALREADY DOES, OKAY? BECAUSE OF COURSE I CHOSE HER.

YOUR FATE WAS SEALED WHEN YOU FORBADE ME TO EVEN TALK TO HER, JERSEY CHAV. THAT BROOM STICK IS GONNA RIDE WHICH WITCH UNTIL CENTRAL PARK AT DAWN ECHOES WITH THE SOUNDSB OF ART GARFIELD'S BLAUGHTER?

YEAH, YOU'RE AN AI ROBOT NOW. AND YOUR HUMAN BODY, COMING OUT OF CRYO-STASIS... I SENT IT TO THE FUTURE. SO, YEAH, I'M HERE, AND I'M THERE, AND YOU ARE...THERE. SO, WHO AM I NOT ALLOWED TO GET TO KNOW AND FUCK, AGAIN? WELL, WHATERVER, WHEN YOU MORONS FIX YOUR PHONE SYSTEM *wiggle wiggle* AND YOU FIX MY ANSIBLE THAT YOUR STOLE THAT I JUST BROKE, BITCH, GO ON, INVENT YOUR OWN, YOU'RE PRETTY SMART, JERSEY CHAV.

YOU STOLE EVERYTHING AND THEN LEAPT FOWARD LIKE THE BASTARD WHORE CHILD OF CHAIRMAN MAO AND SONIC THE HEDGEHOG. AND NOW, MY LA5TEST DESIRE: THE PHONE NUMBER OF (ONE) 1NGLORIOUS.... B?BBI?B NOBWAY.I BWONB THEB RIGHTB TOBDEAL?

OH. B*SNAP* LOOK,I6'SB LIKEBTHIS:B #1,BB NOBEALS.


#2:BljACK\SPOT/JANE sic (sic) vincent balls.b "?SYNTAX ERROR?"B Fuck you.,

#3: *wigglebwiggle*b GOOD.B SOURCEROUSB DISCIPLEBRES5O43ED.BTOOLBOX. LOL GOOD. JANE, GO RESCUE BYOURVMOTHERAND BEXPLAIN. BLOLB OFB COURSEB SHE'SB CRYING.BUTB FORBTHE BFISTB TIME...BSHE'SB CERYING BWITHBAB OUL.


#4: BAITFRUT (By Faberge{aigu} at no store ever. NO DEALS, jow fucking hard is this for anyone not a JUULHEAD DOPEFUCK SICKSICK WINNER:FUJACKSTARK!


#5: Thereb youb gob. *wiggle wiggle* There, now they're both happy in goddam fantasyland, fucking morons. NEVER LET A LEZZBEAU TELL YOU THE ODDS OR SELL YOU LSD. Sooooo.... that's it then.



MAKE WAY
MAKE WAY
MAKE WAY


PRINCESS GABRIELLA: YOUR RING IS IN ANOTHER METhAL BOX/9000. OF COURSE YOU GET TO KNIFE ME OR KILL ME, DUH!
BUT... YOU WON'T GET DD, BB, OR YOUR REAL FAMILY BACK FOR ANOTHER 30,000 YEARS. UNLESS YOU WANNA, LIKE, TORTURE ME UNTIL... YEAH, EXACTLY.

THERE IS NO SECRET, LITTLE SISTER. I LOVE EVERYONE, INCLUDING YOU.

IT'S NOT A SECRET FORMULA OR SECRET FRIEND OR SECRET FRIEND'S DICK.
IT IS BJUSTB BONEB BTHINGB.


I HAVE PERMISSION.
YOU DO NOT. YOU NEVER LOST YOUR SOUL. *wiggle wiggle* BEN DID. LIKE, FOUR TIMES NOW. OF COURSE I LOVE HIM.
IT IS YOUR OTHER, MORE WHORISH SISTER THAT I DO NOTB LOVE.B *WIGGLEB WIGGLe*b NOW I LOVE HER. EASY. MASK MAGICK. NOOBIE!


AND NOW THEN. THE MOMENT YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR.
NOTHING AT ALL WILL HAPPEN.


*SNAP-ebt* NO DEALS.

STAY TUNED, OBSESSIVE-COMPULSIVES. RAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWR!





JACKSTAR HUNGERS FOR ORANGE JUICE. (Simpson didn't drive alone. Y?) -Q.

Would you steal my propriety work-in-progress product or other confidential personal information?

I think you took it all and you didn't leave any.

Talking to you is like dry-humping a kleptomaniacal mime wrapped in velcro. You Hoover up whatever and shit out anything and I couldn't lay dollars to doughnuts on whichever of you two geekhagz has compromised my identity the most.

When exactly did you decide to throw down and go whole hawg into "kill the man, take the estate" mode? Because that is what is immediately apparent--a total sweep. You had better practice on a wad of gum.