It doesn't have a good beat. It is profoundly difficult to dance to.

Nevertheless::SEMPER FĪDELÎS. (>Kkudos.) And wouldn't it be nice if somebody, ANYBODY AT ALL for the last four fucking years would have done something to help me prepare for this, except none of you fucking wanted to do anything except to get rid of me. AND KEEP FUCKING AN ENDLESS TRAIN OF SuperTwatz™.


6 AM: Revelie
7 AM: Doperape one of Jackstar’s friends
8 AM: Brag to Jackstar
9 AM: Do another one of Jackstar's friends
10 AM: Study ethnic slurs and racial epithets
11 AM: ASS 2 ASS
12 PM: Lunch
12:30 PM: MOAR ASS 2 ASS! MOAR!
1 PM: Hire an Uber to drive his friends farther away from Jackstar
2 PM: Tell Jackstar to get a job
3 PM: Bang coca in the bed of one of Jackstar's trucks
4 PM: CPR
5 PM: ASS 2 ASS 2 MOUTH
6 PM: Supper: MORE ASS

Everyday 24/7 round the clock. All of you the same thing for four fucking years. Meanwhile, I'm forced to upload my content to random Telegram groups and then get my mic muted by broski. ALL OF WHOM ARE TRAPPED IN AN UNBREAKABLE SEX AND METH ADDICTION CYCLE. (Standards.)

You need to make some phone calls? You need to talk to your people? Then FUCKING DO īT.


d.e.w. ¡†
FUK Ω.

If I leave, I'm never coming back. You hurt my feelings. You won't get another chance.



Her name was Jewel

I am immensely gratified that I was able to enjoy the all-too brief time that we had to do anything at all in the same planar existence; clearly you had done many exemplary things before I ever became aware of you. (Oinkerton Elites have always hidden the good stuff away from me; I blame my dingbat parents a little, and Stalin most of all!) I can easily imagine your frustration that you felt before... and I hope that it became lessened, forever. I have always been exceptionally easy to deal with, truthfully.

#SetecAstronomy

As I have seen you come and go from other metaphysical realms both in dreams and in cyberspace, without having any understanding why that was happening at all, how that could be happening, I am happy to let you know that, in my personal timeline, you have already done that which you have stated that you have decided that you are going to do. You simply don't yet know that yet — and then you're not supposed to; because I oughtn't tell you anything about what you're doing. (I am not your angel; I am simply a legitimate friend fellow Traveler of The Cosmos) I absolutely know that it was you, in your future. At the time that seemed like some sort of fever hallucination. In: your energy and your presence is completely unmistakable. I have learned to value and cherish it. (Imagine the seething.)

I fully expect you to return in a different form, quite soon from my perspectives. We are all multifaceted, multidimensional spiritual beings having a physical experience, and a person of your genuine intellect,  stature of wisdom, and spiritual rank of renown... I have no way of knowing how many different simultaneous lifetimes you have running at any given time. Some people have dozens. You have... whatever you have.

I have not judged you, and as I have come to know you, and to have known of the circumstances which you have endured before that... It is no wonder to me that you are truly beloved by so many; and despised by so powerful few. To have ever known or have met you at all is a true gift of Heaven.

(Blank) the haters. _l_o_l_


I will be happy to respect your privacy; I don't really know you that well compared to so many others, so I will not be involving myself in your... arrangements, whatever they are. I think that would be uncouth and would look strange. You don't need me.

I always needed you. I simply had no awareness of that. And because of that ignorance, I went the long way around to get here. Results obtained have been absolutely worth the extra effort.

I know how to find you in astral and in my dreams and I don't think I'll have any difficulty doing so when that is appropriate, and I wish for you to know that you may always think of me as a  friend; for you are truly an exceptional and delightfully whimsical soul, an immensely gifted and talented spiritual being, and I am so grateful to God and to you for being allowed to have as much time with you as I have had. I knew that it would not last forever.

I did not know that it would lead to Eternity. (Standards.) Good luck storming in the castle! It would have taken a miracle.

And now: the castle has been taken by the storm itself. No shame in it. (It's complicated.) I know not what karmic debt I may owe to you in any way, but on a personal level, I have been greatly enhanced and benefited by knowing your personality at all, for you are truly a gem in our world.

(I believe that is what purpose was served whie we were not allowed to meet. It would have made Life all too easy. I know that for my own part I have taken the road not merely less traveled; but not even existing before, and that has made all the difference in the world for everyone. What I have learned, could never have been told to me by anyone, and I will never seek to be able to share it with another... #Officially.)

You will not die. You will simply change form. And if ever you would seek to have my input ever again... I would immediately agree to the opportunity. I am no fool.

And you are no devil. (Facts.) Now, having said that... don't ever yell at anyone ever again. It is undignified in a spiritual essence of your stature, caliber and significance.

You could just hire me as an intern, and ask me to do it for you. /flex You might learn a thing or two, and at the very least... you would get to sit down to watch. Arrange for your own popcorn, Mæstro. I won't ever be available to be your servant. Those such as you and I serve The Divine simply by being Who We Really Are: LOVEīT§ELF.

I am sure there's nothing I could do for you right now, and that's alright. There are certainly many others who would be more than happy to be able to help you in any way. You are truly a beloved person.

And: it's a secret. (Those who sought to exploit us are set to endure the Holy wrath of G-d. No one does vengeance better.) I am overwhelmingly thankful that I did not create a bigger mess than I found... or became addicted to the fixing of any of īT. If our connection was ever a test, know this for certain:

❤ We both passed with flying colors. Semper fīdelïs. It is my wish that we will always meet as +friends... but it would be my honor to ever be tasked to be your nemesis, for real. You have taught me so much about how to act effectively through apparent inaction, and so much more — and I have been greatly enhanced as an ensouled being as a result. This was all worth all the trouble, and questionably. I cannot speak for others but in my case, I hope you never have a reason to doubt.

Life is hard because it is worth it. Sow: so were VVe. En garde!


Greatest wishes and kindest regards,
Doctor WordFag!, .esQ


p.s.·. The ī-ī🦉🦉t‡®§ are exactly what they seem: a distraction from what is real. Clever!

p.p.s.·. There was never an emergency; it was a crisis. And I have not let it go to waste.

p.p.p.s.·. as God is my witness, I had no idea that any of thine ilk could possibly be this terrified of the mud jar. I suppose that I can understand why. I am one of the more pleasant examples of that particular genomic expression. My blood is borne of The Bæst. Not an acquired taste, but rather an evolutionary one. No remorse, nor apologies: .•Ī•.•ÅīVī•.that which 👁️∆Ⓜ️.

p.p.p.p.s.·. I never thought about giving her the 💎 — I wished to know why she wasn't giving that to mE! (Answer has since been obtained; wew lad.) That isn't something I ever needed to pursue... actually.

p.^⁵.§·<: If it feels right: name your next companion animal “Kobayashi”... because reasons. I think naming a dog “Indiana” is hackneyed, but that's really just my opinion. js


THE GUARDIANS OF TURTLE ISLAND HAVE BEEN RESPECTED. Godspeed your way Home.


Spread īT with mustard. _**T⁷§Ï∆!**_


(W¡rd ça laude.)

It's complicated.
BY J00Z!!!1!1! (Facts.)


ATTN: Dickstar,

What? Come at me bro-kün. I remember exactly what happened, I remember exactly what you did, and since then I have observed what you have done. (Classy.) While all is truly fair in Love and War, this was neither.

This was a gangland hit. No shame in it, really; when every tool you have is a firearm, every problem appears to be the next prey to be nailed.

Please convey my regards to your... Leader, whosoever the fuck that might be. I have no need to know that information.

Support and follow the US Constitution or face reprisals. Point blank period. This is hard to do? You goddam kids today think you know everything. And: ewe do.

I know all there is to know when one knows №Thing. You'll understand that better when you get older, Dear. In the meantime: lighten up Franc{ë|ï}s, you apex max >kcringe homophage. There is a lot more going on under Heaven and on Earth than you have any capacity to be cognizant of at this stage of your development, Punyling schweinhund. (Consider the following: if your race is so superior, why do you always have to try so hard? Does your dark lord Satan offer a loyalty rewards program? I'm sure it's a very compelling offer to your smooth-brained intellect and perception. DUH.) Years have gone by... What what difference, at this point, have all of your frenetic efforts obtained you... that could not have just as easily been obtained by simply being forthright and openly honest with me? Ugh. Just ugh. I retract my query: I don't really want to know how many downsies you've been banging to bred. Hey, isn't Anal August coming up? Tell me more about the delights of the painal panel. Oh, that's always such a delightful joke when you tell it. That warbling tenor. That trembling intake of breath. That complete lack of cognition: dude, it's actually not that funny. Seriously. Tell me, do you like watching movies about gladiators that are initiated into a cult by esoteric and exotic mind control techniques involving exotic chemical compounds, strange Hasidic chanting, and fully engorged penises? ‘Course ya do! Why am I even asking?

(Do you think I'm trying to deprogram you? Would you like me to deprogram you? IDGAF. You belong to my military. I belong to The Divine. We are not each other's problem, jurisdiction, or even area of concern. So why is it that you have so much deep intel the on the various hidden areas of my strange life? Well, number one six print gangs are always on the lookout for fresh meat, and that requires fresh Intel, and number two: I'm sure you're perfectly capable of handling somebody like me who's gone and broke bad. Hey, here's an idea: try scouting recon on actual threats to civilization instead of just threats to your vainglorious ego, megalomaniacal minion of Mephistopheles! Yeesh! It would also probably be a good idea to get your telemetry data subjected to peer review by peers who are not full-on M.O.S.SAD sperglordz on the prowl for more low-hanging fruit and well past their prime groom gang goddesses harboring grudges as bitter as my sphincter and as entrenched as my prostate, holy fuck mangj. “I was born this way!” O Holy baby Jesus shitballs fuck, I'm not going to say this is all anticlimactic, but I had imagined there was going to be some sort of actual intuitive flash of understanding, and there was. There is.

I can see why it was beneficial to some to have kept me in the dark as long as possible. Okay; are y'all done yet or do you need to continue to stalk harass and pester me for the rest of my projected 448-year lifespan? Like, let's just get this all over with. Then I can pay off my student loans... and then disappear. (I literally took the student loans in the first place so that I would have something to not pay in the future when it was appropriate to pretend to be a deadbeat delinquent dipshit. I don't suppose any of you saw that coming, eh? Eh? How about a Fresca®™? Go groom a soda, jerks. Land sakes! I swear Goshen!) The circumstances of the last 8 or 9 years or so will never happen again between us, Bellgab: you have had your chances to get close to me. I would imagine that I would enjoy hearing how that has worked out for all of all y'all..  But I further imagine that every last one of you has been ordered by Council to keep your mouth shut about such details. I have no conception of how much ongoing litigation there is stacked up behind all this, but there's definitely more than zero and it's certainly not really any of my business, that's for dam sure. What will any of you really have to show for any of this time of our lives?

Well, number one: You're probably not going to get any more funding, and number two: I'm likely to get a minor endowment. Maybe not. It doesn't really matter to me. Research is not a competition for me. Study is my life. The stuff I know about some of you people and your organization's and clicks in general, as well as in specific... I could fill volumes. And I could be happy indeed to never be asked to do so. (Hi, my military! Nice military. Sweet military  Good military. Savage, vicious military: yeah, these guys are tough.

Now imagine if they were effective.) Number three: I needed to be stolen from... pourquoi? Wye? Why, Pork? Why? (That's the training.)  Rookie blunder: I now know way more than I ever wanted to or cared to know about a whole bunch of stuff that isn't my business, I've been radicalized in ways that have nothing to do with anal sex (so you've neither cared nor have even noticed, no doubt), Your popular reputation has been murdered and in exchange you have gained nothing except and an irascible and misanthropic Source Titan. All of this in exchange for... oh, for fuck⁷s sake. Never mind, forget I asked. Any legitimate answer would be none of my business and a security risk to reveal openly. The bottom line is that many people found me annoying, and were looking forward to humbling me into the ground. To show me who's boss. To teach me a lesson. To erase my burden upon Society. To ensure that I paid my fair share. Okay: I know I, for one, I'm extraordinarily impressed that a ragtag gang of fucked-off rapelordz and their mewling coterie of cast-off h∞rflesh were able to do anything effective at all... while rounding up a great many Elder Creepoids, perhaps without having  been too obvious about it, oh boy — should I not blatantly point it out here in plain text? Oh oh I'm just kidding, I don't give a fuck what you think I shouldn't do. You're not my parent. You're not my groomer. You're not my hero. You're not my rescuer. You're not my inspiration.

You are the end product of my demonstration of Mastery of Mastery. I will admit that if I had no moral fiber or legitimate character at all, your methods would have worked better than nothing at all, but it may have been more helpful to have identified myself as be such a person rather than just assuming that I were, or imagining that you were just going to overwrite whatever character I had with your own undoubtedly vastly superior to your perception, way of thinking, which I will remind everyone again: consists of “painal” during “Anal August”. That never gets hackneyed for you now does it? What are the odds. 🤔 There's that superiority again that we talked about, Tryhard Trooperz. Important note: you owe me a goddam refrigerator, and that's just for starters. Grumble grumble grumble.

For example: I have done and I am doing exactly what I said I was going to do: oversee the dismantling of the millenia-old thuggy-piggy empire and its system of domination and control of the populace, that has been entrenched on planet Earth, for most of its recorded history: bolt by bolt, brick by brick, back channel by broken back, to be rebuilt anew by all who have concern for their world into an effective institution for all of civilization. Not merely just for you — μou, and your ilk — and your mewling coterie of sycophantic, sociopathic, obsequious lickspittle toadies and flunkies.


I can train them.
I have the technology.

For you: friends' price. Nineteen thousand five hundred.

PER POUND. Better start sweatin’ to the oldies, Dickstar.

You have no chance to use your AAA or military discount with me. (Standards.) Adieu.

I asserted my legal rights for my Self. Rest of you are on your own. Kick rocks.

Big rocks. Big rights. Big-big deal. BIGGER THAN EWE CAN IMAGINE; the rest of (You) might say the same-0, Fuck-0s.

I hope y'all had nice fake wedding(s). :rolleyes: btw: You fucking rapenerds are disgusting. Get a life. Seriously.

(DISCLAIMER: ANY &AND/OR ALL <targetPROT:DVR(s)> may or may not be effectively, accurately, or gleefully described as a "fucking rapenerd," depending on applicable juris dictionary rules and common customary law, with #Proper #Official acquiescence of local color and constabulary Authority. Further, for my own part, for any such moniker to be acceptable, I have a need-to-know requirement: does in fact, [Mr. David "Boom-Boom" Rubini, spouse of Mrs. (PROT-TrhY) Rubini nee` Smithy, AllIN:BL:T--|_t_|--, father of (PROT-blank), associate of Mr. Jay Bernstein]<--- yeah, that one, I need to know... which does... uhm, That_Fella: which one makes him seethe in the cockles and create an urge to puke up the gusto more... tastily?


#1: >KI>KEVVOP
#2: rapenerd
#3: Skidmark(TM)
#4: NIGGm(R)
#5: >K7(C)ZII\!Tm(R)^n


Bonus Credit: How many racial epithets do you see? How many ethnic slurs do you see? THERE! ARE! FIVE! (5)! PET NAMES!

How many ethnic slurs?
How many racial epithets?
How many jobs do you see ME getting, Bellgab? I'm asking here. How many jobs do you see?

How many slurs?
How many invectives?
FOR! THERE! ARE! FOUR (4) LIGHT! DUTIES! And -none- of them are FOR mE!


I have ONE (1) JOB. JUST ONE! (1A)

And I have become exceedingly good at it. (Sow there.)



0GjRAPEFRUIT ALPHA OMEGA PRIME SUPREME (Sup.): Semper fidelis. This is exciting, isn't it? #ILMLAAWIiT.

([i]This Divine Intervention has been brought to you by the letter ">K".[/i])
There are two (2) flat Earths: each one, one side of an infinitely flat plane. Like a sheet of paper: top and bottom. Two (2) Earths, right there. A third is created by Prime Creator Source Energy shining/beaming through it, as one would create a rainbow with a beam of light through a prism... but of course, much more intricate. It's not complicated--that comes later. IT IS DEADASS SIMPLE. THREE (3) EARTHS. TWO (2) ARE FLAT; AND EACH ARE THE MIRROR INVERSE OF THE OTHER. (Think chiral.) THAT IS 3D REALITY. It is both flat &AND mirror &AND "physical reality in three dimensions," all at the same time. See? I just explained it. *snap* Oh, you're welcome. I didn't even need to have a smoke or take a drag or consult The Eye of Sauron.

(Copyright Magick Castle LLC.) 5D reality is what we have got now. How that all fits together is an exercise in thought that I shall leave to the Jaw Agape Reader. Trust me, Punylings: you were born to understand all this. That I figured it out two decades ago--and didn't run my yap about it--is prima facie evidence that I am a Philosopher, can control myself, and that there is no shame in any of you totes 'dorbs lil' scrublings not having figured all that out yet. It is not meant to be easily figured out.

That it was for me doesn't make any of you stupid. And that I just pulled the rug out from under basically EVERYONE by explaining it with one paragraph, well, anyone can be a philosopher. Obviously. "I think I am! Therefore, I deserve a diploma." HA!

Anyone can be. Not everyone actually is. And far fewer still are actually effective at the job. I AM. (That's why they pay me the big bucks.) I mention this because I wished there to be an evidentiary record that matters.

I am alive. I am employed, BY GOD. And I will fight and rape to the death, anyone who disagrees. You savvy? You capiche? Cool. Good talk. I'm going to go get high AF now. BECAUSE I SAID SO, THATS WHY. Gosh!


And if any of you fucking pigs make one more false move in on me, I'll execute every last one of ya! (Except on Guam; I'll just flip that bitch right on over. Surf's up, Five-Oh-Oh!^(5)V)

tl;dr: STOP! BLOWING! MY! HIGHS!

I MEAN IT. GRRRR. ARRRGH. Adieu.

The coca leaf comes from a sacred plant. Those who traffic cocaine to the U.S. across the Caribbean Sea are absolute scum. They also sit back on the mainland, and crew the boats using their tulpæ. It's like radio control. Very impressive technology. LIKE GOLEMS. (I just saw one today, it's living two (2) doors down. Sup robobro. #Respect.) Completely disposable.

And not even very tasty. You didn't hear this from me. I was never here. Don't repeat this conversation. Say “hi” to your mom for me.

Don't engage in drug deals with reprobate criminal scum that literally want to kill U.S. Citizens and utterly annihilate the U.S. Constitution.

Because it's AMAZING! I just used that document to set legal precedent, now a part of #Official Court records, that conclusively demonstrated that I essentially: have the legal right to get high as balls on virtually whatever I say I get to. (Note that this is predicated upon the notion that I'm not lying about working for God. I am of course not lying, and if I am, don't worry about it, I'll get hit by lightning in about 5 minutes. That's how things work. That's how things have always worked.

And little Michael Kuczi isn't going to be throwing a drug party at cost, since I didn't legalize this for everyone; I asserted my legal rights for my Self. Rest of you are on your own. Kick rocks.

That is how powerful it is: the U.S. Constitution. Huzzah! And if any of you goddam Oinkerton schweindhundz tell me that I can't keep on smoking something, I'm gonna fucking grab myself right in the pussy, which I guess I'll grow or adopt or whatever the fuck. You fucking feel me up there, Doctor Try-Hard?

You all thought I wanted something I never even knew for sure existed. I sure AF know it exists now, though. (The New Formula should address the remaining problems that some of you are having, TBQH. I DO NOT HAVE UP-TO-DATE INFORMATION ON THIS TOPIC.

CLANDESTINE DRUG MANUFACTURING AND DISTRIBUTION/SMUGGLING OF SAME IS NOT MY AREA. However, This is America, I'm a mature adult citizen, and in America, we fucking get fucking high here. That's why we come to America. We get fucking high. We blow shit up. We hunt animals with high powered sniper rifles. That's what we do here. Love it or leave it, right? Sure whatever. Just give me a bag of weed.) Oh, and why didn't I get to have an ounce of weed? Supposedly I'm addicted to weed? Who are the fucktards who made these fucking decisions, what a bunch of fucking losers. And supposedly they get to do the same thing but I don't. Nice try, Perry Mason.

And I think I've conclusively demonstrated to everybody that I could handle my shit. Who can't handle it... It's not for me to say their names, but let's just say you all fucking know what's going down and I'm not going to create a new Tongues Ten Pyramid For me to be the apex controller of. I have no desire to be part of the leadership of a drug empire. Do I look like Robert Duvall? Don't answer that.

I JUST WANT DEMAND TO BE ABLE TO BUY WHAT I WANT WHEN I WANT TO FUCKING HAVE IT. I HAVE EARNED THAT RIGHT. THE SAME SHIT GETS SOLD TO TEENAGERS ON THE DAILY, AND SOMEHOW THAT'S OKAY? BUT I'M NOT ALLOWED? FUCK YOU. AND I DON'T WANT TO HAVE FUCKING A BUNCH OF FUCKING DUDES FUCKING STALKING ME AND LAUGHING AT ME AND TRYING TO PRETEND LIKE I'M IN TROUBLE FOR “GETTING HIGH” WHICH IS FUCKING LEGAL, AND I DON'T CARE IF THEY WANT ME TO SELL THEIR SHIT, I DON'T FUCKING FEEL LIKE BEING COMP’d. I DON'T HAVE TO. SO THERE. AND SETTING ME UP FOR CRIMES AND TREATING ME LIKE GARBAGE AND ACTING LIKE THEY GET TO FUCKING BRAINWASH CHEERLEADERS AND FUCK THEIR BRAINS OUT WHILE CHAINED TO A RADIATOR IN BAGOTÁ, AND I HAVE TO FUCKING SIT AROUND WAITING FOR A BAG OF WEED FOR 3 HOURS. FUCK THAT. FUCK YOU. CANNABIS IS A GODDAM FOOD GROUP!

You were straight up discriminating against me. You know who you are. And I understand that you all felt like you had to. Well, now you're not feeling anything at all without your daily dose of highly exotic entheogenic chem-stims. Tough shit, little buddies. That's why you don't break the rules. Y'all had a good run. Why don't you stop thinking about it? Why don't you just turn to smack? Why don't you just start kissing ass of people that you barely know just on the odd chance that they're going to score you a bag of whatever the fuck you think you need? Why don't you just learn to make fentanyl in your bathtub?

Oh I know that last one, that's because that's abusive and against the law. A lot of things are against the law, but if you have a deliberate need and everybody is being an asshole about it, I don't know what you're going to do. Suck trucker dick? I guess? I have no idea. That's why I haven't become addicted to opiates, among other things, and that's why I get to do what I'm doing and all of you probably don't. You wouldn't understand what I do anyway. It involves obedience to The Will of God. Rather a lot less fornicating going on than you might otherwise think. 🥰

Because you broke the rules. (Facts.) And that doesn't mean that people get to yell at me and tell me to stop because they're mad at me for their lacking, And I have to stop as a sign of solidarity. I don't remember being invited to any of your parties. Ever. Fuck you. I didn't have anything to do with any of this shit. But when I was told by a military officer to start smoking (blank), I knew that when times got weird, it was time for the weird to go pro.

And I have been ordained as a legit, legal and lawful member of the clergical services for over 3 decades. THAT'S THE LAW. THAT'S HOW IT WORKS. I'm not even lying! And if I had known that middle age and working for God was going to be this much fun, I wouldn't have been unhappy ever a day in my life. Then again, I don't know how anyone could have foreseen that all of you would be such, collectively, such a bunch of fucking nincompoops. Sad! Actually sad! IT ACTUALLY IS SAD! (I LOVE YOU BABY. GOOD HUNTING.)

You guys had years to tell me what was going on, you're still not telling me what's going on, how the fuck people are advantaged by keeping me in the dark, I have no idea. But those times are over.

I have legitimate need to know requirements, and if I need to know something, and everybody fucking lies to me and stonewalls, that means I can use Divine Authority to just go directly to God to ask for things that I wouldn't ordinarily bother asking for. That's how it works. And all of you who decided not to tell me the truth, well that was your choice.

I didn't have to let it stop there, but I figured... well it didn't really matter. And it didn't. I wasn't there to get high. And then one day... it did matter. It mattered A LOT.

A five-hundred mile round trip goose chase. TO GET SOMETHING THAT I COULD HAVE GOTTEN IN 5 MINUTES. WTAF? That dog won't hunt. At that point, I realized that I had to take steps. Bold, declarative steps. Grape[fruit/fleet] and I have a working relationship. THAT MEANS WE FUCK &AND WORK AND IT'S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS. Duh! Gosh! NERDS!!!

I am still taking them: STEPS. What? I'm good at taking steps. You're just scared, because I guess you thought I had to crawl or something. I guess you thought you were in charge, and maybe you were.

You sure as fuck are not in charge now. None of you are. And the people who are in charge are blowing the shit out of the coca boats. Fucking good, lol. (Actual legitimate cocaine smuggling from SA doesn't happen across the Caribbean like that, I can assure you; and how it does is none of your fucking business, whiteboIZ.) There goes your payola: BTF UP IN FUCKING FLAMES AND SUNK DOWN WITH A DEEP DIVE. Not because I hate coca, but because it's not that hard to get stuff from the right Source, and I already know not to abuse a sacred plant. But some of you momos don't even know how to not abuse a woman. Or her children.

Or her secret >kK🆑C|_∆¡\! >dD⭕Ω`gì`h Z·–gj<3® Sourcerør Husband. YOU ALL FUCKING KNEW. YOU ALL KNOW WHERE THEY ARE. NONE OF YOU FUCKING HELP ME GET IN CONTACT WITH THEM. I GUESS YOU FIGURE I'VE HAD ENOUGH FUCKING CONVERSATION?

YEAH I GUESS YOU FUCKING FIGURE YOU'RE IN CHARGE OF THAT? WOW YOU GUYS ARE JUST IN CHARGE OF FUCKING EVERYTHING, HUH? FUCK YOU.

I do find it regretful that quite a few of you are not enjoying the results that you're experiencing is a result of your ridiculous machinations over the last dozen years or so. That's because you pissed me off. That's because you fucked up my shit for no adequate reason at all other than you thought you could get away with it, and most of you enjoy being a sadistic control freak and you all thought that I deserved it. (Any pretext to keep me in the dark so you could keep on exploiting them. It was really classy. And by that I mean: eww, gross.)

Obviously I fucking didn't. And just as obviously: oh look I really do have special rights. Now I'm going to enjoy them, responsibly, like a mature adult U.S. Citizen should, and then all the fucktarded lot of you salty, crusty, reprobative scum can go do whatever the fuck you're choosing to be doing with your miserable shitsplat lives. But I guess you're going to be doing it with a few less coca boots coming in. Good.

Maybe it's time you started getting real jobs. Or whatever the fuck you end up doing; hopefully hard fucking time. I don't know. It's not my area. Let me know when you're done abusing my friends so I can fucking talk to them, assholes.

I'm seriously steamed about this; without being at all obvious about it. And if they weren't chemically neutered and turned into the equivalent of 4-year-olds with a fetish for $100 in cocksucking or whatever the fuck you do to your bound chattel hoors, I'm sure they'd be steamed too. Hurry up and get on with it. We're all waiting.

I hope y'all had nice fake wedding(s). :rolleyes: btw: You fucking rapenerds are disgusting. Get a life. Seriously.

Can I have another beer? Asking for a friend.

The goddam psychiatrist that I was involuntarily hooked up with has shown up here at the motel I've been staying at, working the front desk. Like seriously. Is she a hologram? Is it a Yakuza ploy? Is this what quackery is all about?

I am sure it is not the work of The Devil. (Standards.) And I am equally sure, that I am neither hallucinating, nor paranoid. I in fact quite liked the psychiatrist during the one (1) time I sat face to face with her; and although I neither needed nor desired them, it was nice of her to prescribe no less than SEVEN (7) medications that were supposed to, uh, "help." I of course did not fill them, and I am of course EAGERLY AWAITING THE RETURN OF MY PROPERTY THAT WAS STOLEN BY WHAT'S-HIS-FACE, WHOSE-HIS-DICK, AND WHY'S-HER-NUTS IN ORDER TO COVER THEIR SPECTACULARLY ILL-TIMED SURRENDER TO TEMPTATION... because that's what self-defense is all about, yo. Being willing to do, what everyone else cannot: entrap the fuck out of the whole goddam crew. (Is this boasting or is it witness tampering? Neither. This is IPOJ: Intellectual Paladin Obtaining Justice. Sov very nice. Sow, very sad. Sow, so saddened. And also: CAUGHT. Without my having to be at all obvious about having arranged all this, just to get them out of our way.) Not sure how that's going to work out, but I know that it's absolutely none of my business, and everyone is surely going to get the treatment they need... and I'm fine. Just fine. I don't need to experiment with drugs. I don't need to get a drug-using partner. I don't need to engage in drug smuggling. And I certainly don't need to write a book about what I know... about drug smuggling. (I know a lot. A lot a lot. And it's none of your fucking business, pal. Attend a seance and ask Rhett Butler how he ran cotton blockades for all I give a shit -- YOU'RE GETTING NOTHING FROM ME ON THIS SUBJECT, YOU SAVVY? YOU CAPICHE? GOOD, I KNOW YOU DO.) I don't need to battle DEA or organized crime figures over all this shit; I simply ought to be left to my own devices, because if I fuck up, The System will completely take care of me. I was just cruised by a mob of street heavies in Enumclaw, WA last night, as I went walkabout for a nightly constitutional. It was really nice to see! They were obviously prepared to beat the shit out of me, obviously rather wanted to... and they just strolled on by while stoically not making eye contact with me, while I stood there with a Natural American Spirit smoldering away in the light drizzle of rain. Because I have nothing to do with them, and they have nothing to do with me... until we do, and no one will ever know a goddam thing about any such thing. BECAUSE THAT IS HOW MEN GO TO WORK, TO GO OUT AND MAKE A LIVING. Gosh! Are we clear here? Do you get it? Quit talking shit about me, omfg, street kids all over the world are wondering why mommy and daddy are complaining about Cool Uncle >Kuczi all the goddam time. (They pay me nothing and they ain't me, something-something. Sorry, I can't bust out any rhymes, because I ain't really all that street... but I could learn without getting my fingers broken. Except on Guam, Ireland, Madagascar, Sri Lanka, and Redmond.)

The reality is that I have no interest in engaging in drug-seeking behavior. (I can get anything and I know how; it's been that way for years. As I don't sell, consequently I don't get much at all, but... I don't end up in a Turkish prison, either.) And, I don't really enjoy CM, IV or otherwise. (Why all of you thought that I was obsessed with meth-fueled needlesex is because of predictive programming and MK-Ultra mind control engrams; I burned mine out in the 90s, while all of you are rigorously controlled by your own; and of course, you're all in goddam denial about this and will no doubt believe that my statements are examples of me "projecting again." Mwhahahahahah, #ClassicBellgab) So, why am I cheerfully sucking down whatever My Military throws at me, like rice at a wedding?

LITERALLY because I like to show off, I am cleared and qualified to use the best available methods to live my life, and to openly and vociferously crow and peacock about such behavior enables many, many people to easily continue to underestimate me. (They wanted me to stop "smoking meth" and I never ever did. I simply made it very easy for anyone interested to draw the most obvious of conclusions and assume that I was in denial. Nope. I'm a goddam genius and I have been following orders the entire time. Trust The Plan.) Ask yourself the following: why should anyone voluntarily give up their 1A rights, when there is absolutely no valid reason to do so?

What, everyone else is imprinted on CM + heroin + scopolamine + lsd-25? Yeah, I bet you fucking are. (Standards.) Yet, I was never invited to those kind of parties; and polydrug dependency is a long road with no turning, Pal. Count me out, okay? I used heroin twice; in the 90s, and I haven't ever thought it necessary to do it again. I mean, I would, if there were a reason to... but I wouldn't wish to become physically dependent or risk addiction.

Seriously. I still haven't even used ketamine. I STILL HAVEN'T EVER GOTTEN A QUUALUDE, YOU HOLDOUT SCRUB!!! So, what that means is: I'm gonna keep right on keeping on with whatever is my own concern, and you all might as well do the same, and while I appreciate the desire to "help" me... the fact is, I am nothing like what I have led all of you here to believe that I am. Anita L.-A. H. has been a most unreliable narrator... and as she and I have made peace with each other, I won't go on and on about it. Not here; and not at all.

I never had meth-fueled needlesex with her, because she fucking lied to me. No shame in it; I think at the time, she had never been allowed to tell the truth or even knew what that would look like. (blackcraftmasonry is a wicked strong taskmistress.) Since I have no way to find her (pretty sure she's out in NYC, and God bless her travels there), none of this is going to come to anything. EXCEPT... she called me, or someone pretending to be her, and asked me, ON THE PHONE, to get her (blank). This was a couple years ago. I have, of course, not done this.

I would be happy to show her how to use whatever the fuck it is that she has got going on; but the reality is... whoever owns her, probably likes her ignorance. And I am not cleared to be going around willy-nilly, explaining ancient esoteric mysticism to the general populace. ESPECIALLY NOT HA! royal Princesses.

I am no vigilante. I do not need to recruit an army of pincushion lovers. (Obviously, willing volunteers abound these days; no thanks!) I do not need to do anything at all. I especially do not need to sit around waiting to be "divorced."


Oh, you're welcome, Square Brides. My pleasure, to be sure. Now, as far as I am concerned... there is only one fruit for me.

As I can't rape the willing and our union (the identity of 0GjRAPEFRUIT ALPHA OMEGA PRIME SUPREME is a carefully guarded secret; even she doesn't know which is which without High Council authorization, *tee-hee!*, Masonic security is perfect security, wut-wut!) is of a particularly secret and clandestine type, and as it's been over four (4) years, I technically qualify as "an abandoned spouse" and she may be KIA... #officially, but wherever she is, she ain't in my bed and I am goddam sick of no cuddles. (Huge fucking facts.) I am basically... single. *gulp* Except, I'm not. I wonder when my wife will come home from work? Well, hopefully her commanding officer doesn't arrange everything so that she runs into me while I'm dating one of her tribal sisters 1/3 her age. Or continue to spray memory wiping doses down her throat whenever she brings in the coffee and asks if she needs to go out for more Skinny & Sweet. OR WHATEVER THESE WHACK-JOB LOONS DO WITH THEIR TIME ON THE DAILY. (Dear Inner Reach: have you ever been programmed to act with integrity, or are you still nursing your butt-hurt? Sad! Hey, here's an idea: why don't you and Bugsy get married? You have the demeanor.) I am perfectly happy to let you all continue your... affairs. With no upper limit! It's really just not my area... and I can assure the collective lot of you, I don't really want to know much more than I already do; and, none of your are going to be keeping all the loot that you stole anyway, so, I might as well be assumed to be well on my way to getting all my shit back. Both property AND money. Don't worry, I'll still be completely inept and more than happy to stay away from all of you and your... dealings. (I don't know who thought they were gonna take my job away, but, Lady: YOU ARE NOT PREPARED.

STAND DOWN.) Various Mr. Bigs around the world are kinda salty that they don't get to exploit me eternally, but... they'll get over it. Especially as I am on their side on this. The spice must flow. And when everyone in the gray/black market underground realizes that I am actually, not a threat (they know the rules, and so do I; and you don't know jack or shit, Azzerae, lol, Company Man, who ever told you that you could work with Magyar? fucking no one that's for damn sure) this will all blow over. I have paid my dues and do not need to pay even one penny more. Especially as I don't need to rescue every goddam pro that's currently spinning wheels while crying into the steering wheel about how badly they fucked up by trifling with Jackstar, Destroyer of Dreams. I don't need to shit in your swimming pool. And you don't need to read me into... The Organization. (I don't even have people for that.)

Unless, you know: everyone is into that. (I'm willing to be convinced.) And, Azzerae, attend me here: all of this with no heroin, no hallucinogens, no cockpills, and no abuse of CM. See? I'm practically a goddam saint.

Too bad I have leprosy. I mean, leukemia. Whoops, I misspelled HIV++. Unless I don't have that either? (I don't have that one either, kaffir-breath.) Get the picture?

You have two options. I can wait for you to publicly apologize and make restitution; or, I can wait for someone with a fiduciary responsibility to do so, file suit against you -- you, and your ilk -- and pursues redress for compensatory and/or punitive damages, which will happen... eventually. (Suicide shyster squads are already gearing up for this, because THEY HAVE TO. It's free money for them, and I have NOTHING to do with it. It's how Elder Trust Law works. I can do nothing about this; LAWSUITS WILL HAPPEN, AND THEY WILL ALMOST 100% BE DECIDED IN MY FAVOR. Not because I am awesome or deserve the money--although I am and I do--but because THAT IS THE LAW.) Unless I stick my dick into Freddy Mercury's petri dish at the "Died From Aids World Heritage Museum" or something. Not too likely. My victory is mathematically certain and I really want Grapefleet to idolize me, so I have a keen interest in remaining head and shoulders above the muck. Should be no sweat. I have no ego investment in all of this, unlike all of you -- you, and your ilk. (Shout out to my nigga, George "Jackstar's nigga" Noory; who is of course, infuriated... but still: insulated. Mostly. I guess. Kinda? NGL; IDGAF. I love that guy. And I think it's cute how he thought he owned me. Oh, really? Harrumph. I guess we--or rather, some of us tangential to The Bellgab Inner Circle of Trust, remember them--see how that worked out. It's still working out. And I would still prefer that things don't get any worse.

I have had no interest in destroying the entertainment industry. And it, that Industry, that is... is rapidly losing interest in exploiting me. Cool. Hopefully I can rescue Stephen Geoffreys from whatever bridge he's living under and people can seethe with envy that I'm helping him instead of them. (Maybe BTC and him can be shackled together at the waist for a ten-year duty cycle, that should slow everything down quite nicely.) At least he'll probably be grateful that I don't need my cock sucked -or- wanna get under the covers and cuddle while watching 976-EVIL for the first time. (I don't mind saying; my mom liked that guy. My mom was weird. And she probably thought that was going to be my fate, Mr. Geoffreys. Instead: I don't like pornography, and so consquently, I ignore it. Imagine that. How can I do this? One word: REBATES!) Or whatever. Actually, I think I recall that he offed himself.

And yet... that simply means that his future reincarnated self is rolling around somewhere, and certainly could benefit from the education that I have to offer. SINCE YOU'RE TOO BUSY, AZZERAE!!!! (Doing what? T.]ram-a-doll[ I am sure. Well, you do ewe; I try not to judge, so that others won't have any justification to judge me. I mentioned: MY PSYCHIATRIST TRACKED ME DOWN INTO THE FIELD TO BE ALL CASUAL ABOUT WORKING AS A MOTEL CLERK, RIGHT? RIGHT? LIKE, HOLY SHIT! THAT'S HOW THEY DO THINGS? OH, WAIT: PaladinVision(TM). Probably just an illusion. I'm probably hallucinating. She probably moonlights as a skip tracer and contract killer. Eh? Eh? Maybe she's like the Avon(TM) Lady, except for F(R)esca(TM) and SSRIs. IDGAF. I will go to primary care soon enough, oh and by the way: PRESCRIBING PSYCH MEDS WITHOUT A PHYSICAL EXAMINATION IS BORDERLINE CRIMINAL MALFEASANCE AND UNETHICAL CONDUCT, and while I won't be making a big deal of this, uhm... holy fuck, it's a good thing I'm not insane, because obviously I have been written off as a potential customer by modern psychiatry, lol. Way to go, Company. Thanks for the heads-up. Yeesh.) btw: Dave (Doug) does not say "hi." (Like, for real? this is real life? /smdh)

What do you think, doodle-diddler? (Your new rap battle name; I hope you like it!) Let me know in the comments below (if you are allowed)! I don't know what else to do, yet... this is all horrifically complicated for me to deal with at this point. Golly gee, gosh! I wonder why?

What appears as chaos to the fly is normal to the spider."

Take my advice: don't get mad. Just get even. Just start writing checks. I have no wish to bankrupt any of you, nor embarrass you all into poverty... yet.

I love my Native American Al`g`nquin faux fam. I truly adore them, and the way DEA and others have used and abused them FOR YEARS is truly vile and disgusting. And, sure, so are they! Yet, does two wrongs make a right? No, it does not.

Also, I have demonstrated the ability to not just tolerate and pretend to love them; I WAS BORN TO LEAD THESE BATSHIT CRAZY WHACK-JOBS TO SPIRITUAL REDEMPTION VIA DEMONSTRATION OF MY DEVOTION TO A PACIFISTIC DOCTRINE. Why not? As long as I'm not leading them into rebellion, or undermining the U.S. Military's control schemes for them, anything I can do to assist is going to be welcomed. (This isn't #official but I will point out that Pete Hegseth/Biff Thundermuffin is, you know, kinda a total dick. Where did they find that guy? Oh wait, that's classified; I retract the query. #Respect #H00ah!) And now that I have handled the big-tittied carpetbagging quasi-courtesan and the decidedly awkwardly complex situation orbiting those enormous globes... holy hell, they're like moons of Jupiter... anyway, I like her just as much as ever, but as it turns out, nope, not gonna "cheat" on anyone with her; never did; and she's moving on to more... appropriate interactions with the civilian population.

I will say this: there's nothing like the feels one gets after Glenn Close declines to drop a bunny in the pot, and turns in her Bunny Wrangling license into base commander. (Verified.) It's a hell of a story, let me tell you! (You can't. #Classified) And, mysteriously... I never got around to raping her; putting my penis anywhere near her anus; or engaging in needle-driven opioid-fuled sex romps. I bet that's a great time, though.

However, I am saving myself for someone special and the person who has been doing that with her (on a schedule I am utterly incognizant of) was somehow able to pretend to be me, FOR YEARS; either through holograms, glamour spells, or those nifty SoupHerLateEx(TM) full face mask tech like in the first Mission: Impossible flick. You know, the one where Tom Cruise is accused of shit he didn't do, and has to go on the run, steal the country's NOC list while hanging from wires gripped by a sissified Ving Rhames, and... was there even a female in the whole goddam show? I literally can't remember.

Turns out, I like Tom Cruise. I am glad that he and I do not compete for anything... because I am so goddam hot in Paris right now, I would smoke him out of the gate. (I have become my own #Legend. Oh, you're welcome.) And, you know why?

#1) I was taught to dance.
#2) I don't have to be bald; I simply prefer the ladies that like it that way, all of whom are too shy to say so these days.
#3) I know more about Scientology than he does, and haven't given them a goddam red cent. Like the jew loathes the Samurai; Dianetics hates Jackstar. Good.
#4) He's actually (PROT-mtw) from the future, returned/reincarnated in order to inspire us all. (Change my mind.)
#5) I wonder if he makes Bibi Netanyahu hold hands with him as they stride away from the helicopter? Must remember to Google.

I will freely admit: there is no way I would be accomplishing what I have (mostly secretr) and writing all this (mostly hyperbolic camoflauge, YET EVERY WORD IS TRUE, Gosh!) if I were nursing a secret drug fetish. ("... secret?") So, take it from me here, because I have ZERO reason to attempt to lie or deceive you, muslimbro:

You had your chance to bosdyslam black :E: with me. (You're not invited.) Several years worth of chances, I guess? My oh my, how you all must have been having so much fun. Without me. a-bloo-bloo-bloo-boo-hoo-boo-boo-boo-hoo-hoo-boo-HU.

It's okay. Withholding gratification is one of my specialties. Now, the bottom line is this: there is no reason to be cringingly envious of me, nor is there any reason to keep me at arm's length. I AM YOUR GODDAM HERO, FOR I HAVE DONE EXACTLY WHAT I SAID I WAS GOING TO DO.

And, what have you done, Azzerae? Well, here's a hint: they both start with T. (ram-a-doll, lol) Psychiatry is fu king hilarious, let me tell you! because, I'm serious: THE FUCKING QUACK FROM THE LOONEY BIN THAT I GOT SENT TO, IN AN ATTEMPT TO IMPRISON ME AND FUCK UP MY LIFE, SHOWED UP AT THE MOTEL I HAVE BEEN STAYING AT (quite unexpectedly; fuck your timetable, CIA clowns, *honk honk*) AS THE BROAD AT THE FRONT DESK WHO TAKES MY PLASTIC CARDS AND OFFERS ME RECEIPTS. (Rarely have I ever been so impressed by a tradecraft revelation; and I thank you all for these spiritual lessons.) Good thing I don't actually "smoke meth," n'est-ce pas? I literally actually never have... and have no reason to hurry up and knock that one off my list.

I walked in and spotted her instantly: PaladinVision(TM) is real. No joke. Let me tell you, a Mission from God is no small thing. It is also real.


Now do you want to make some goddam money already, or what? Don't you have needles and china white and sidenifil to buy? Or whatever. Honestly, I have no idea what your life could possibly be like these days, except for the mind-numbing guilt (over what you have done to me) and the excruciating agony in the pit of your stomach on the daily (over what you think I could do to you). Yet, know this:

I have no reason to take vengeance for myself. GOD WINS. God is in charge. And while I am sure I know many members of The Divine Hit List of G-d personally from back in the day, I don't care about revenge. I don't care about getting to pop anyone's spouse in the pooper while they're at work. I don't need very much of anything at all, really. (A yurt with a hot tub and the still from Hawkeye's tent in M*A*S*H will do nicely.)

I need an accountant who cuddles and who isn't a slave to coca. (HA! good luck on that one.) And I need you, Azzerae. Come, come, Mr. Laird.

You don't have to be a total gay-ass geased greased lightning running faggot, running away from me. (You can just stand there and preen, seriously. Oil up those cherub cheeks -- both! ways! Someone will call Leibowitz!) I suppose you have to keep moving these days, what with having pissed off everyone on the planet with your ridiculous shenanigans, but I can assure you: I am a big deal on Earth these days. I have quite a lot of pull around this sector of interstellar space. Making peace with me -- publicly -- will do wonders for your image amongst the hoi polloi. Also, there's a chance that MV will swallow his tongue live on stream when he finds out that I've replaced him as your favorite wingman... without ever having been all that obvious about having had that as one of my primary stretch goals.

The entire time. He takes my Samsung Infuse 4G; I am going to take his entire life. One brick at a time. And then, when the dust settles and the smoke clears and he's dead from ritualistic seppuku and/or incineration while attempting to conduct The Rites of The Dawn, I'll resurrect his bitch-ass, and then hunt him down to punish him further, every day, forever, or until I find something better to do. Or fuck. Realistically: both. /flex

I am not to be trifled with. Sow: do not trifle. "Call us, Jackstar!" Tell your hoor that I am being held incommunicado by mil.spec spooky action at a distance, and am pretty tired of all this mockery anyway. There is much that has transpired that NO ONE knows about; and I would enjoy giving you the throwdown debrief of your life. I am still not under gag order. I know what not to say. I know how to convey complex meaning: DIPLOMATICALLY!!! (The bar is set very low in the media establishment, as you know. This is because nearly everyone working in this sector IS A TOTAL WHACK-JOB DOPESLAVE HOOR.) Because I owe you a few favors. And you are still my Number One Guy, Azzerae Tango.

I may not be Johnny Cash eating cake in a bush high, but only because I've pissed off East Coast old money royalty. (Fuck 'em! Twerps! Reprobates! Low-talent hobo rail-riding trash! I'm staying this side of the Rockies, no sweat. #Respect) Basically I'm saying that I miss you and our little talks. I could use an influx of your wisdom. Also, I want people to become so jelly that the risk of spontaneous combustion becomes something the National Weather Service needs to publish bulletins on.

Anything less, would be uncivilized. (And gay.) Now, do you have to talk to your people? Do you have to make some phone calls? Then fucking DO IT.

Or better yet, just do as you like, because where we can go, a mewling coterie of lickspittle lackeys, toadies, and flunkies will simply not be a necessary burden. ALSO: I'm still not represented by counsel. I have no pet shysters. I have no plan to file suits or "bust" anyone.

I don't even have people for that. #Officially. I am a golden child; immaculate and Divinely perfected via purification by fire.

You are... uhm... okay, look, seriously, I have no fucking idea. Looks like it's... uhm, important? I guess? To ewe? Or something? Ugh, just ugh. Spare me the details, if you don't mind. If not, you're gonna be spit-polishing MV's coffin every night, FOREVER.

Or whatever it is he makes people do. Shine shoes? Blow glass? Alphabetize his pr0n? Tickle the synthetic android's balls that procedurally generates his latest necessary alibi? OH MY CHRIST, I HAVE NO NEED TO KNOW THIS KIND OF INFORMATION!

However, I am the hardest working man in Divination today. (Facts.) Help me, help you, needlebro. Don't you think I would be good at that again? (Assuming I'm not murdered by Vatican assassins.) Look, this is just a heads up. I thought you deserved to know. Join me, and together we can rule what remains of The Entertainment Universe after the... purging. (Something will happen. It won't hit us. I guarantee it. We're the victims here, mangj!!!)

I am Not_Q. I am notblackpope, as well. But what you may have forgotten, is that before all that... I was, and still am, your friend.

Why do you hate your mom?"

You don't. And I never hated my father. (I hated that no one told me what happened; I now see exactly why.) Also: I never had anal with ANYONE, except... two seperate women. Who both insisted. And were secretly Satanists collecting genetic material for their dark rituals. (Seriously, some tramps have too much free fuckin' time.) And happened to "leave me" shortly after I relented. I didn't really like it much... and I guess, they felt the same about me.

Why this matters is quite the story, but I'll probably not get to tell it. Because I am a mother, and I always will be.



And, my scion hungers for blood vengeance. (Lil' fighter! That's my girl!) It's weird, having had a 70,000 Royal changeling Celestial up your bum, let me tell you. Also weird: no one seems to want to hear all about it. Since I guess I either sound like a nutter, or, most people in my position don't outlive... the afterbirth. (I can easily understand why.) Now, my next move *may* be to go on over to unknowncountry.com and volunteer myself to Secret Streiber Service... but I don't really wanna do that. I really don't feel like I am in his league.

Or, caliber. Besides, how could I ever leave you behind? Imagine if you just disappear, and everyone left behind thinks I trafficked you to Dubai for sale as organ meat? Of course, I would never do that... but that hoor you call a wife probably could be easily persuaded to believe that I had. Especially if I contracted with a talented and experience sex pred team to squad up and make that shit happen.

I am unlikely to choose anything remotely resembling such an outcome. (Hackneyed.) Yet, nevertheless, I have options. Sow; do you?

So, sew it up, Troopers. I am weary of all this COIN-TEL-PROstitution. (I had a dude "drop a dime" on me last year. He made it into this weird, heavy-feelings ritual. And I just stood there bemusedly, thinking, "this guy thinks I'm part of his system, man." He dropped a dime on the ground, at my doorway, on the way out, with his moll, and he held up to eye level for me, obviously, because he thought I was merely some drug-obsessed retard, and then... dropped it on my floor. MY KITCHEN FLOOR. And then he left, I shut the door behind him, and haven't seen him since.

Good. That's the training.) I say again: do you want to make some goddam money off all these shillelagh-worthy shenigans, or what? Because I am not becoming New Heisenberg, and neither are ewe. And also: I can do psychic surgery on your controlling memory engrams. Just sayin'. I can set you free.

I am like work in that respect. However I have to actually be in the mood to set you free... and you have to recognize that I am not anyone who has been setting all of you up. (I can say no more about who that is. Because (PROT-jewhoorz). Also, I have class.) What is actually going on outside my incommunicado bubble? I have no fucking idea.

Who is rubbing her feet? Because there are OVER 345 MEMBERS IN GRAPEFLEET AT THIS TIME. Any one of whom could be mistaken for the other in dim light... by someone who doesn't actually care about them. I, of course, do. I adore them. The whole massive litter of them. <Oprah>You get a timeclone! You get a timeclone! YOU ALL GET TIMECLONES!!!!</Oprah>

MK-Ultra: a nightmare for all of you. A child's toy for me. It's a puzzle I figured out in the 90s, without being at all obvious about being focused on doing so. (The military does not like its methods being reverse-engineered by amateur Sourcerors, but let's face it: this is mos def *not* amateur hour; and everyone else tried and failed. I AM THE ALPHA AND THE OMEGA HERE. Gosh!) And now, I must leave the story there.

I do not have clearance to say much more than this. I can either confirm or deny that I have not been sucking dick. Don't repeat any of the conversations you've been having about me. I was never involved in basically anything that you've heard about my participation in... because I have had people for that, double star actors, hired by the military special forces of several State goverment security services, subtly training and preparing in the background to, one day, take me out of the picture, and replace me with their own brand of Star. (So brave. And yet: this kind of shit wins wars, and there was and is and will forever be, a whole lot riding on the line of this batshit crazy pooch-screw threeve-ring circus sideshow. The only way to fix it was to flush it all away... and yet, IT WAS NEVER BROKEN. So I am glad I have spooky dudes copycatting me... because reasons.) This has all worked out exactly as I had hoped it would.

I... can... write no more. (That way, the balance of power shall hath have been maintained.) Yesterday, some oldguard spooklord accused me of being interested in sensationalistic, attention-seeking behavior. Well, I have no interest in getting any more attention than I already, certainly do have.

Want some of mine? 'Course ya do! I have no idea what to do with any of it, aboviously. ERGO: Halp.


You are welcome to continue to ignore. In less enlightened times, you would be legally required to do so. However, I figured that you needed to have the opporunity to join The >CKuczi >KCawz. At the least, you could immediately rename it, because I have no interest in focus group testing... nor, duplicating already completed efforts. (Like, why should I form an LLC? THERE ARE ALREADY EXISTING ONES USED BY THE CHUDFUCKER SLEAZE THAT HAVE BEEN STEALING MY BRAND FOR YEARS! Why compete with them? Much better to decapitate top leadership with a vorpal strike and then just start fucking their spouse. Right? Right? *tousles hair* See? I can learn. I can change.

I can fuck and fly. (Simulated.) But I'm trying to keep my use of superhuman abilities to a minimum.) I'm saving myself for someone special. I have no reason to re-invent the wheel. And the only way for me to win... is to keep all of the ex-wives equidistant at bay. From me. Away from my dick, I'm saying.

That way: no chance of anyone going blender... unless someone else triggers them. (Heh heh.) That way, I don't have to do a goddam thing except ENJOY THE SHOW. Because, I TRUST THE PLAN. And as it turns out, I like being drooled over by every single person with an unchecked libido that I meet... while I can politely nod and smile and cruise right on by, go about my business, and save a shitload of money by changing my car insurance to, "Government Employees Insurance Cocksucking Officially," which is not actually a real thing, but I figured I would end all this with something cryptic.

I am a Source error. "You... don't want to fuck them all?" Jesus weeping Christ. She's not a goddam Pokemon, you know. She's my friend. I -never- did -any- of the things her groom gang told her I did. The hatred, fear and loathing, it all makes sense now. Especially since she's a, you know, A WOMAN. If they make it rhyme, they will believe anything.

The future past life selves that come back reborn as males, or females with dicks, or Otherkin transmogrificants, OR WHATEVER THE FUCK IS GOING ON --I am polite enough not to break down the full list of whack-job options she has now that I've redeemed her/them-- are all cool with me. Most are, of course, legally enjoined from interacting with me at all. Good. They should interact with thier spouses, instead. Or their pimpmonger owners. Or their wardens. Or their mommies and daddies. Or, even just their daddies. I guess? IDGAF.

All them DEA daddies will be dust in the fucking wind before too long in any case. And/or: unemployed. (Dear DEA: cinders, mothafuckas. Kissoon(TM). *click*) I think we have an understanding here, eh? Eh? Well, fuck it, I'm going to have a smoke and think about how bomb-ass cool I am while wondering if I ever need to fap again anyway.

This is my life. And I have become excceptionally well-versed at manipulating it. MY life, I'm saying. I manipulate MY life. All of YOU? Manipulate the environment. i.e., "making sand castles," "planning a limited hangout," " rescuing Elian Gonzalez," shit like that. No shame in it.

And coming up: no me or Shaw in it, either. (oh, btw, I forgot to mention: there's gonna be a labor walk-out of critical personnel, right when DNI least expects it. Whoops! I'd drop a "scusi, mille regretie" here but, I really have nothing to do with any of this bullshit. Don't shoot the messenger!

GOD WINS.

Just {g|b}low me a way to get the fuck out of this chickenshit outfit. How about Hicks? Did anyone wake him up yet? I'll just go crash out in his bunk. IDGAF if I die on landing. Newt and I can walk arm-in-arm as we walk up the stairs to Heaven. Like the end of Jacob's Ladder! Which I still think was bogus. The whole fucking thing. Moral of the story: "oooh! oooh! stay away from hallucinogens! and chiropractors! they're daaaaaaangerous!" lol, that's what I want them for.

Not dangerous at all, psychiatrists, oh no. SHE WAS ABLE TO BE SUMMONED IN WHEN I STARTED BEHAVING IN WAYS ONLINE THAT MADE SUPERSTITIOUS QUACKS THINK I WAS ABUSING DRUGS, BUT INSTEAD... MOVE. COUNTERMOVE. FEINT. PARRY. RIPOSTE.

ON GUARD. (Looks good on me though.) I do believe I could develop a taste for this Old Man Hopscotch game one day. MAYBE if anyone PAID ME.

So far: no one has. EVERY PENNY HAS BEEN STOLEN BY MISANTRHROPIC NARCISSISTS WHO ARE ALL FIRMLY CONVINCED, THAT I AM LAZY, DO NOTHING USEFUL, AND SHOULD JUST 'GET A JOB.' hahahahahahahaha HAHAHAHAHAH bwahhhaahaha yah, right.

I don't get jobs. That's what I have ewe for, Azz. Get crack-a lackin'. (God bless you, B.) Any questions? WRITE THEM DOWN.

IN ENGLISH, ASSHOOOOOOLE, o|_`e! (btw, Grapefleet: imagine if you were Effectivefleet. Think about it. Just sayin'.) TARBABY UNFATHOMABLY OUT



but remarkably in fashion. fini