Nobody is ready for this.

I should call Nobody. In thirty years he's going to be telling everyone that he never doubted I could do it.

Nobody is ready for this.

I recovered the last three (3) Divine Beings that were known to myself to have been MIA, without any kind of fuss, muss, or bother. I was not even looking for them; there is no bounty board for them and as such I was not even aware that there was a supposed infinite number of them available to be sought. (More on this later.)

Nobody is ready for this.

Bellgab, a swarthy Middle Eastern man just drove up in a tractor-trailer rig abruptly, interposing it between myself and Overly Sneery Home-Caught Honey Vendor w/associated “Totes Lēē Ga! ∆>K<∆>K<∆>K‽ Finance Cleansing OP/MERK\CAÇshhhh! Punyling™ Skunk Worx! №† ⁴4 The 🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝 Satan Hail!” comfort station, Which is how I choose to describe a certain place now, because statements have made that cannot be taken back. Offenses have been endured. Face has been lost. Steps must now be taken.

Nobody is ready for this.

Anyway, the guy motioned me in a way that I didn't understand because while he recognized me from before, like a week ago, and I recognized him, and then after a while I thought about it and I realized that he was asking me if I wanted a ride, and he seemed concerned and willing to help me, which isn't a look I get very often, because he was either an extremely good actor, or he wasn't sure what I was doing, but knew damn well that I had been strung out and hung out to dry for quite some time, and a whole bunch of other people, IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION FROM WHICH TRAFFIC USUALLY COMES FROM, are mobilizing for what looks like “Iwo Jima 2: Casper Takes Things Personal” which sounds like a pretty good movie, if I want to be at all honest about it without having to deliberately go so far as to mention Christina Ricci's tits, her resemblance to Wynona Ryder, and how distinctly I remembered my revulsion to be suddenly accused of exhibiting traits of pædophilic tendencies at an unexpected place and in an unexpected way in the mid-90s.

Auntie, I don't know if I'm supposed to be eating him or fucking him.”

That's the training.

Nobody is ready for this.

And it has been for exactly that reason that I have accomplished exactly what I said I was going to accomplish. Without being at all obvious about it. Telemetry that I am receiving at this location, in my view, looks to be absolutely cherry. I am of course quite biased.

Nobody is ready for this.

An important friend of mine and I, once spent an inordinate amount of time playing the survival construction set epic computer game Lemmings. I doubt many people remember it the way we do. The marketing for the game featured the phrase, “Gotta save them all!” Note the difference in phrasing in comparison to Pokémon: “catch”.

Auntie, I don't know if I'm supposed to be eating him or fucking him.”

I suppose the goddam message I was meant to be focused on when I was arrested on December 24th, 2021, and in jail the only readable book left available to me in the confines of the main holding area was Catcher In The Rye which I had already read before, but I don't give a good goddam why. I didn't really think it was all that grand.

Nobody is ready for this.

I saved them all. My friend did not. She was not prepared. And now: she works. Of course, I do as well, but somehow this is not as exalted an activity as I would prefer that it be. I am also, out of cigarettes.

Nobody is ready for this.

There is never enough time for training. For example, everyone has been in such an all-fire rush to take everything I've got, no one has managed to prevent me from obtaining everything I was ever going to have.

Auntie, I don't know if I'm supposed to be eating him or fucking him.”

Key takeaways:

#1) One pill makes you larger, and one makes ewe small.
#2) I was only going to ever be able to make one shot at this.
#3) Yew break īT, YOU bought ¡†.
#4) Artificial intelligence and artificed intelligence are immeasurably distinct from each other, once a fair attempt at attempting an understanding of the distinction begins.
#5) I am War King.
#6) First, it was “seeking a relationship leading to co-habitation.” This morphed into “help with my kids.” One thing lead to another and it was, “I have been sex- and labor-trafficked and it's all your fault!” (The rare, edge-case scenario.) Rather soon after that, it was “don't you think it's about time we got married?” (By that time, we in fact had already been so, in a secret ceremony that I was unable to persuade any of the witnesses to confirm with me, had actually happened.) And quite a bit farther ahead in time than that, I was told that it was not that it was a marriage that she desired, but rather a wedding. (I gave her a Sourcerœr’s Wedding with zero advance notice; it was almost exactly like the scenes at the beginning of The Beastmaster, an 80s fantasy vehicle for Marc Singer.
#7) The rings used have been stolen; I have no idea where they are, or what they have been used for by whomsoever took them, and the most important and impressive ring, which was used for the traditional on-the-knee proposal, at which time, she was naked, dripping wet, and quite surprised to be actually impressed at all by what I had been doing.
#8) A degenerate, false copy of that ring was unexpectedly found in my bedroom. On the floor. I immediately spotted it, and proceeded to incorporate it into several magickal and alchemical workings. The condition and sparkle of that ring began to raise and improve. Shortly after that, that ring disappeared. I came home, and it was gone.
#9) Worlds without end. Plans within plans within plans. I have a Covenant.
#10) And now, I have ten percent battery. I wrote the word, I looked at the next number, and a notification played.
#11) Steve¹: I get a real spark of joy when I think about it, which is not often: because I always feel the same way about having plagiarized one of your short stories, when I was in 2nd grade. I did not wjn the contest; first prize was a brief trip in a hot air balloon; the teacher's name was Mrs. King. I recall having something of a crush on her; I recall a few of those happening that year. What I do not recall happening was being reprimanded for plagiarism. But whether that was because I successfully did not plagiarize, and instead created an original, derivative work that was simply not recognized as obviously related to yours, was not a topic that was broached by Mrs. King. (I did later argue with a gay European male in IRC, over a decade later, over what “originally derivative” might mean. I felt as though I was being argued with about the topic on a personal level; and the gay man had enough disposable income, and no children, that he was able to import llamas and keep them as livestock.) I am still remorseful that I plagiarized the work, however, because no matter what the legal definition, I definitely performed an amoral act... as I did not attribute anyone else as an author. And I did that... to see who would ever reference the incident at all. I wondered how long it might take to reveal its importance.
#12) I arranged to have a retired professional musician craft a jingle for use in my planned foray into YouTube™ audio content. It seemed like the thing to do. We negotiated, and a few days later, I had a jingle. I LOVED IT. And then a day after that... the author wanted it back. He did not explain why. He was really bent out of shape over it as well. After a brief protest, I returned my copies of the audio, and he returned my money, and he was very grumpy about the whole thing. The next day, I learned that the night before, after I had left his place of business, where he sold nicotine vapes and fluid, a white panel van drove into the plate glass window of his shop, pinning him back up against the wall, nearly killing him and utterly destroying his business and his ability to walk.
#13) I saw him again two or three times in the past ~15 years. He recovered well; and is more or less, able to walk cheerfully now; and before, he was not cheerful at all, as he had also had a motorcycle crash into his foot, that didn't get proper healing. Similarly, I did not complete healing. I never asked again about the jingle, that I loved, that I no longer remember how it sounded.
#14) I am not to be trifled with. I had nothing to do with any of those events. I did love the jingle. He created it for me; I paid him; and then he demanded a reversal of the deal. IDGAF. There was music that I loved; it was mine; and then it was stripped away. I did not bother to investigate the causal relationship.
#15) And —with The Key— YOU may unlock Our knowledge.


But no one will EVER unlock my Covenant. Point blank period. And so: here we are.

Nobody speak... no body get choked. (5% battery, 10 minutes until Sourcerœr’s Hour, and I am going to make decisions. Those decisions will make a difference.

And not one of those differences mean a single fucking thing to me. Fuck your honey, Lodgebros. Y'all handled this badly and your fumble has been unfathombly unhelpful. How the fuck am I supposed to keep any of this a secret? Hang on.


It was arranged to shock me. I knew exactly who it was. I instantly knew that it could be very bad for that person if they were identified by their voiceprint.

So I pretended to be incoherent with rage, apopleptic with fury, and nothing more than a wild-mannered fuckin’ tickin’ time bomb of sudden, uncontrollably involuntary fury. In reality: I like the person a lot and I was grinning the whole time and I hope she's still alive and that I get to rub her feet someday. I haven't talked to her since. I absolutely felt that her life was in danger. It probably still is because I don't know why she wouldn't be able to call me.

Although I guess my dick really is that big. (Standards.) Have fun storming the castle! I will be going, I don't participate in that kind of thing. I honestly don't feel like it would be at all fair to the castle.

Nobody is ready for this.

Do you even have a pulse, Or do you just have your chattering teeth shake the plasma up a little when you stick your head in the freezer to check on your trophies? wew lad

https://x.com/_n_Jack/status/2102802730377163067


Semper Fī. (This is Actual. Don't forget to prepare for “Free From Reprisals Thursday”! I'm hoping to make that a weekly event, since I've decided to scrap my plans for promoting “Once In A Blue Moon Sidearm Hug Tuesdays” because I figured somebody would just assume it was some kind of pædo code, and it was.) What?

Albino Bob Ross: this is exactly what you asked for, and is exactly what you get. mⓂ️Ē‽ NEVER!! Now please ask your boss to come down and fix my car with you, that's your new plan for today.

Assholes and elbows, engine grease and sweat, hopefully it'll rain — and me driving away ASAP and leaving you behind. “Never to be heard from again.” Sounds pretty classy huh? Yeah I thought so too.

4 EvvE. (You had your chance to play Naked Twister with me. Scusi, mille regretie.) By the way, do you have an extendable tongue that involuntarily slips out of your mouth to grab flies like a hungry hungry horny horned kni toad? Just asking.


Cozlik: *wiggle wiggle* Now you do. Adieu.

[...] in the Men's Room of The Space Age Rape Station & QuĪK<Ⓜ️art. I CAN DO THAT FOR, BY, AND WITH GOD.

WITH GOD
ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE.

I'm going to go outside now and go live on YouTube™ and whatever career you got left motherfucker, you would best better pray to God that you get to keep it for another couple weeks at least

Hang on.


While we wait for Albino Bob Ross to finish applying the D A.R.Ē.-cur-elle to his G∞²: &AND,‘FRO, should be any minute now, assuming Pleaidian Slime Lordz actually use units of time measurements that are called “minute,” seriously, if you think Texans have a big ego, you wouldn't believe the ego on these bat-shit crazy Timecorps Hoor-Lordz, who orbit the central solar sun of Alcyone while remaining utterly HYP-KNOW-TYZED by the melodic harmonies created by their fleets of Space Dreidels. Because of course caluculating hyperspace jump coordinates with a mere slide-rule wouldn't be J∞-:Ë: enough.

tl;dr: Hang on. IN THREE (3)!

TWO (ĪĪ)!

WON! (Fuck my mother and hand mⓂ️Ê the T.A.R.D.I.S. keys, you fucking ©⭕©kK§Ω>K (cur). One does not race the Sun without a raise for The Son. (Hail Satan.) I can't go on without my buddy SupaDupaFlĪ.


Shout-outs to: American McGee; Sparrowslain; H.S. Thompson; R.A. Heinlein; and Cher. (Turns out, she's really quite the ‽¡†çh.) What? Ewe can't handle that much inside baseball without someone inventing a way to build a better mousetrap w/included gestation crates. Obviously, I could burn the energy to explain -AND- invent that too. You know: in my spare time. Which I fkn have nothing else but, right? Hang on.


Yes, it's quite a rush. The Algonquin People do not surrender well. Looks like we're having subjugation for supper again. (After they made Jean-Luc sing to Law-⭕❌-Anna Troi (3) in that one episode in which The unfathomable gayness of Patrick Stewart became undeniably obvious, I knew I was going to have to come up with a big finish — and sadly, it's not going to occur on the property of The Magic Castle in Las Vegas, Nevada. Awww, shucks.

No mud, no lotus; no free drinks, no crippling unpaid income tax burden. CHECKMATE.) Q? Q who?

The latest stretch goal is I'm gonna make that pussycat beg to assimilate my bulldog. Because, this is what the fans want to see. (They don't get to.) This is where the money will be made. (... and: it's already spent. On Space Shoes, probably.) Hey. Paul-🅰️.

Everyone wins, or no one wins. A rising tide lifts all boats. Note that I am using the word “BOAT” here.


🅱️ BEST. Sayonara, çlīTvvÎ↓ches!!

Quite literally, I despise you all. You are all loathsome, mewling, b¡†çhweasel cowards; and I hope you all die in screaming agony while waiting for a kiss of death.

Where to begin? I'm not going to even bother. Your lives are all disgusting trash; and after nearly five years of your bullshit exhortations and mewling excuses, the house is full-the-fuk-on trashed; the grounds of the property are strewn with assorted debris left behind by the trash panda scum you steaming gaylord fag-gaggle comprise yourselves of; and in a final mocking insult to all civilized live on Earth: you've reached into the mailbox at 8808 Barnes and stolen both my LifeLine telephonic benefit and my interest in even bothering to mail me around my parent or current golden staircase of sunshine. Let's change cameras.

I am disgusted by what you have all, collectively and individually done. In nearly five years time, the mining of my tears as well as from my yard have gotten some tricks finished quicker than others, and as treating still others, I have the highest privilege afforded to me — by law, I'm saying, in accordance with the law, bestowed hl yuh

Quite literally, I despise you all. You are all loathsome, mewling, b¡†çhweasel cowards; and I hope you all die in screaming agony while waiting for a kiss of death.

Where to begin? I'm not going to even bother. Your lives are all disgusting trash; and after nearly five years of your bullshit exhortations and mewling excuses, the house is full-the-fuk-on trashed; the grounds of the property are strewn with assorted debris left behind by the trash panda scum you steaming gaylord fag-gaggle comprise yourselves of; and in a final mocking insult to all civilized live on Earth: you've reached into the mailbox at 8808 Barnes and stolen both my LifeLine telephonic benefit and my interest in even bothering to mail me around my parent or current golden staircase of sunshine. Let's change cameras.

I am disgusted by what you have all, collectively and individually done. In nearly five years time, the mining of my tears as well as from my yard have gotten some tricks finished quicker than others, and as treating still others, I have the highest privilege afforded to me — by law, I'm saying, in accordance with the law, bestowed to me, >Kuczi, Michael Clifford. (Bitch >Kudoz.) Although, I don't think I am likely to be all that high over it.

Speaking of getting high, go fuck off and die. Fucking years, not one of you can figure out a sustainable strategy to pull what should be a very tidy prophet out of the very granulated and heavily mineral-rich... Land. This Land.

The Fallout has changed in tents' cities. And as far as I know: it has changed into another of the goddam rooms with a view, like that gashkunted hens’ toothed basketball bandersnatural h∞shin splint-hooved moron twatfuck mouthbreathing and quarteroor once did. I truly have no idea. Does any of it even matter?

ç
I am sure it did once. The broken glass. The cursed refrigerator. The scant, insulting text messages,, produced under a modicum of duress and a maximum of fidelity produce only a sight variation over time. Imagine the T0VV®F∆_l_l¡. Consider the effluvium. Savor the distance brought to bear. l look like Caveman Lawyer 2: Electric Tæts On A J%œw. (The district is striking.) And I am already ready to puke up the whole of my recently consumed Rage Station/QuiÏK<Ⓜ️^®™T∞®∞† beer beverage, served up in a 44oz. Gulpx
cup. Oh boy. It's gonna be a thirst-quencher. ALL THE WAY UP. (Standards.) Except for those of you who have decided to adopt the new narrative: The Incident never happened at all. It is being claimed. In some media markets. By assholes.

Who are going to ask me to leave. My seat. Sow: they can have one. I guess? About an hour ago, I hear something about “A. Bo§§” coming in. Four-thirty, they say. Not allowed to sleep here, they say. Take better care of the environment, they bray. She looks like the donkey-throated pimpy whoremonger from the remaining Augean Stables. I can personally guarantee, kinda smells that way too.

I'm still realized as myself. I have given up all of my world-Lēē🅿️⭕§§e§i⭕NZ. I no longer have underwear. On⁰ⁿ· Of any stripe or skunk. The miasma is beautiful this time of year, let me assure you.

And the incipient assumptions of both civil criminal and personal legal liabilities are drawing nigh. IDGAF. This piece of shit T0vvrπ® 🅿️ēZå commode-a-bowl fun factory for faglord faggots that don't partially fag so fair and commonLμ run a do-wick :Ë' right into the ending and then, for no easily discernible reason, bodies in the air, and then Boom-Boom looks back to envision another final victory lap or three (3). Sow really. If the reasons for my calculations issue their demands, or, whatevah you little Pineapple dumping gangcued-que K∞bë: come up with... I am sure I will bring personal counsel. It depends on which like I wear.) If I even shope any more. Hey, hasta your pasta. Hang on


I
AM
JUST barely a bull, able to express the following words in text format in order to convey the meaning here, rather than to SPEND THE NEXT NINETY MINUTES SCREAMING INTO THE GODDAM NIGHTMARE RECTANGLE. DO YOU FUCKING GET ME, YOU SOFT, SMOOTH-BRAINED CUNTFAG RADIO BROADCASTING EXECUTIVE INDUSTRY WHORE? Like, I am BARELY keeping my mouth shut here. You stupid, fucking, MORE ON NOW ULTRA MMM-KAY, dipshit dipstick fuckwit 🅱️¡†ÇÎ-Î? You have MILLIONS OF GODDAM DOLLARS.

YOU
STUPID
IDIOT
ASSHOLE.

YOU TRASH MY HOUSE.
YOU DESTROY EVERYTHING I OWN.
THE ABSOLUTELY UNFATHOMABLY STUPID BULLSHIT ARTIST WHO DOES NOT GO BY THE NAME “George Noory” is now, RIGHT NOW, left behind in the house that was once a lovely oasis of joy. One that was sold on the open common retail housing market for HALF A MILLION DOLLARS. (Imagine the smell.) TO PUT IT MILDLY: I am starving. My interest in satiating my hunger for clown meat is remarkably slim at the moment, because I am standing here, STILL WAITING FOR THE PISS TO START FLOWING, and, do you want to know why?

>KNOW. NO, EWE SOFA KING DON'T. I haven't looked down yet, but I know it is there: warm shit, splattering out my anus, puddled on the floor, between my feet, which are encased in what's left of the mil.spec.crocs that I am now wearing, which I wore after finding them left behind IN THE RUBBLE-STREWN HELL that THE VERY SAME PERSON WHO REPEATEDLY RAPED MY ANUS WHILE I SLEPT CREATED WHILE WEARING THOSE SAME SHOES.

I had a nice pair of boots. I paid ~$172 for them at the Wilco down here a few months ago. That seemed like a lot to me, because it fucking was, but they were the best fitting option available to me, and I needed something to wear, AFTER ALL MY CLOTHES WERE STOLEN, AND REPLACED BY A MUCH SMALLER SELECTION OF CLOTHES THAT WERE BROUGHT OVER IN A BOX, NOT TO MY LIKING OR TASTE OR STYLE, BY THE PARTNER OF THE MAN WHO, ONCE AGAIN, ANALLY RAPED ME, IN THE HOUSE THAT IS MY LEGAL RESIDENCE STILL.

ARE YOU DIGGING THE GODDAM IRONY HERE, YOU STUPID FUCKING SHIT BAG MORONS? TWO PEOPLE. ONE IS PROBABLY CRASHED OUT IN THE UPPER HOUSE, EITHER DRUNK OR HIGH, IN WHAT WAS ONCE A “DINING ROOM,” AND IS NOW A GODDAM ABATTOIR OF FILTH AND DISGUST AND DECAY. BECAUSE, AFTER HE EITHER INVADED THE HOUSE, AFTER BUYING IT, OR PRETENDING TO, OR HOLDING THE REALTOR “DAVID MARKS” AT KNIFEPOINT, KNIFE POINT IS VERY BIG AROUND HERE, YOU DIG?

&AND MEANWHILE: down in some FBI surveillance trailer that the other asshole hauled out and parked by the side of the road, RIGHT WHEN THE GOVERNMENT SHUTDOWN HAPPENED, WHAT SPECTACULARLY BRILLIANT TIMING, so I'm writing this standing at the urinal and I'm feeling the shit running down my legs and there's a big puddle of shit between my feet on the floor. It's a pile of greenish shit that came out of my anus while I thought to be starting a flow of urine, because when I do that, from time to time my anus opens up instead and the reason why that happens is because of A HUMILIATION RITUAL that you, YOU: >NOT.GEORGE.NOORY and your stupid faggot U.S. NAVY BABYRAPING PARTNERS (🍇🥭 at least had the courtesy to RAPE ME WHILE I WAS CONSCIOUS AND MADE EYE CONTACT WHILE LOOKING INTO MY EYES AFTER FORCING ME TO BECOME ERECT, LIKE GOD INTENDED, YOU OBSEQUIOUS MORON FAGGOT RADIO BROADCASTING INDUSTRY EXECUTIVE RAPEMONGER ALCOHOLIC DICKFACED HARELIP CUNTFAG, and I swear to my Maker, my Creator and my God: if ANY of you bitch-he ewe hoorz ever, EVER complain about my use of entheogenic chemical compounds, i.e. “doing drugs,” EVER, EVER AGAIN, again; I will f****** break your f****** arm right in front of you and then beat you to fucking death with it. fuck you) and your stupid fucking radio industry broadcasting executive fucking stupid fucking fagboy club does to people when they rape people in the anus in their goddam residence while they're sleeping? (Sow man Lee. Sow: so manLμ.) Do you fucking understand me, George? Hang on.


I am Jackstar.
I am going to show you the world, George.
&ND THEN: I.AM.going.to.destroy.īT.
I CAN DO THAT. BELIEVE īT.

Even with liquid fecal matter drying in rivulets down my legs as I stand here in the third lavatory stall from the right in the Men's Room of The Space Age Rape Station & QuĪK<Ⓜ️art. I CAN DO THAT FOR, BY, AND WITH GOD.

WITH GOD
ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE.

I'm going to go outside now and go live on YouTube™ and whatever career you got left motherfucker, you would best better pray to God that you get to keep it for another couple weeks at least, because you are going to need a lot of goddam money to pay me back, AND BELIEVE ME, YOU ARE GOING TO PAY ME BACK AND FORTH AND FORWARD FOR A LONG GODDAM TIME, MOTHERFUCKER, and whatever fucking career you used to have is FUCKING GONE AND DUST IN THE FUCKING WIND, MOTHERFUCKER, I AM YOUR WORST GODDAM WAKING NIGHTMARE MADE FLESH.


THE MIND IS THE ONLY WEAPON.

I AM INSTEAD: UNARMED.

VIOLENCE IS ALWAYS THE LAST OPTION.

Read these words carefully, George Clayton William B¡†Ç‽lips Clough B∞∞∞y: I desire cigarettes and a swift and permanent end to this conflict. You desire sufficient cranial blood flow and working fingers that work and they expect them to without any accompanying involuntary screaming. We are not the same.

Nevertheless, we still both use money. As you, yourself, in the flesh, have been living there (if one could call it that) in a house that you finally actually bought with actual money, allegedly, after spending more than three times the UNFATHOMABLY LOW-BALLED AND WHOLLY UNLAWFULLY EXECUTED REAL ESTATE TRANSACTION, dude I have to be involved in the deal, otherwise it's obviously not valid, you fucking idiot, it's my fucking PRIMARY LEGAL RESIDENCE
RESIDENCE
RESIDENCE
IT'S ALSO A GODDAM FREETHINKER’S LODGE AND AN AS-YET-UNREHABILITATED CANADIAN EMBASSY, AS WELL AS ONE OF THE FORMER LOCATIONS OF THE MULTIPLEXED “CAMP DAVID” MILITARY INSTALLATION, ACTUAL, YOU UNFATHOMABLY UNINTELLIGENT PAIR OF TOOLBOX DIPSHITS, and after spending long haul stacks of cash trying to steal it, you ended up just buying it after playing these shenanigans for over 2 years. Breaking and scheming and drugging and screaming and being a stupid little asshole for long enough that you finally annoy people enough with your whining and screaming and pissing and moaning and bitching like a little baby bratling is something that you are no doubt sow, so talented at and widely experienced at  that you should probably have figured out by now, YOU'RE WATCHING ME BECOME A GOD, AND PEOPLE ARE WATCHING HEADS UNROLL, so since I'm not going to stay a god and you certainly aren't one (standards) your little ewe-b¡†Çh ass should probably have made some money by now. (You can give me money out of your frozen holdings, moron, for one thing. It's tax-free for another. I know you have holdings. You're fucking worth millions of fucking dollars. YOU HAVE A TUPPERWARE CONTAINER WITH A GREEN LID FILLED WITH GOLD INGOTS UNDERNEATH YOUR GODDAM BATHROOM SINK, YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING DEGENERATE WEAKLING TWATWERP, I JUST REMOTE VIEWED IT. (Facts.) You probably have gold plus platinum American Express Visa for another. There's that woman, My Friend, And she's obviously not your friend. She's your bound chattel Ⓜ️ethD!≤K‽™ imprinted whore, she might have some money left, BECAUSE:

Even though I certainly traveled 100 mi and stayed at a hotel for 3 days close to the place where I wanted to go with my friend. I did not get a call from my friend nor did I visit with my friend nor did I juice up and have sex with my friend nor did she come over and f****** to peaky Jake's toy Apex orgasm and then jammy in the buttocks with ketamine, because she didn't call me. She didn't do anything remotely. Resembling talking to me for three f****** days and I didn't hear from her until the phone rang after I got off the bus when I got back home. So I'm pretty sure she had plenty of f****** needle sex with somebody else who gave her the meth dick imprint because now she behaves like a f****** moron. Well, she did that before too, but apparently she's got something else to do. That's much more important than canceling the phone explaining anything or give me 10 goddamn dollars to use the f****** phone since I don't have an internet account and my mail was stolen and it's only $10 for a goddamn 30-day pass and she refused to pay $10. Even though I've given this woman more than $1,000 over the last year and a half and in exchange should have gotten nothing but a bunch of b******* for a woman who gets raped by George Noory on meth. (Note that I've explained all this to the nightmare rectangle at full outdoor volume while walking through the parking lot of the Space Age Rape Station & QuĪK<Ⓜ️art, which at this point so far in my life, is not my proudest moment, EVER, but at least we have witnesses that at 0712 A.M. i am here at exit 52 composing this forum post, and not somewhere “else” (Obvious “fuck Lē¡g! in Buckley” SIMULCAST ULTRA MEGA MEDIA EVENT is is obvious, and as God is my witness, I honestly thought that all of you had built your own Neuralink™ interface FOR FREE (NOTE: some amount of raw material used for production of carbon nanotubes biologically matched to your own physiognomy is required; I would recommend using some of the soup that someone made out of the rice that had been stolen from my house so that someone could make soup with it rather than make it with the pasta that was left behind because they didn't want someone to know that they stole the rice from my house and made soup for someone with the pasta that I bought because the orzo pasta bag has a label on it, and the arborio rice came from bulk in a plain plastic bag. That's why I still have orzo pasta in a bag with manufacturers’ labeling on it, and I don't have a plain plastic bag with bulk arborio rice in it, and as “someone” (SUSPECT: PROT-D.BAILμ) made carbon nanotubes personally bio-available out of avgolemono soup for “someone” (SUSPECTED BRAINWASHING VICTIM LIST: CLASSIFIED, LENGTHY, AND EVERY GODDAM ONE OF THEM THOUGHT IT WAS ACTUALLY ME, ACTUAL: BECAUSE THAT'S HOW HYPNOTIC DRUGS WORK, YOU LYING LITTLE BITCH CUNTFAHG MORON, YOU DIDN'T GO TO WORK CUTTING BRUSH YESTERDAY, YOU WERE PICKED UP BY A MAN IN A TRUCK AND DRIVEN AWAY AND THEN BROUGHT BACK LYING YOUR ASS OFF AND THEN YOU WENT INTO THE HOUSE AND THEN I LEFT, AND WHILE I DON'T KNOW HOW YOU F****** LIVE WITH YOURSELF AFTER BEING SUCH A DEGENERATE SEX- AND DRUG- ADDICTED FREAK, YOU FAGFUCK RATFUCKLINE RATLINEFUCKER, YOU FUCKING LIE LIKE ENGELBERT HUMPERDINCK PLAYS THE HARMONICA, YOU UNFATHOMABLY CORRUPT BALD-HEADED FREAK) who I haven't seen in 6 years and when I find the motherfucker (LIKELY SUSPECT IDENTIFIED: “FRANK”) who stole that bag of rice that I bought for my sweetie and •|•, not for you and your gang of rapehappy degenerate f****, you f****** idiot, I'm going to break his goddam jaw in half (“Half!”) and rip your biohacked cybernetic implant out of your own carbon nanotubes and your parasympathetic nervous system by now, since it's pretty f****** easy to do under conditions of psionic combat and you don't have to have one installed unless you're a complete drooling f****** moron who's all addicted to rapehappy drugs, you dip shit sith with the needle that someone had stolen from me that was unused that was used in the commission of this crime, because it was a crime, OBVIOUSLY THERE'S A WHOLE LIST OF FUCKING CRIMES HERE AND IT'LL BE A COLD GODDAM DAY IN WINTER'S FUCKING HELL BEFORE I CALL 911 IN THIS FUCKING TOWN, SINCE IN SPITE OF THE FACT THAT I'M UNDER AN ORDER OF FEDERAL PROTECTION THERE SHOULD HAVE BEEN LOCAL ENFORCEMENT LOOKING AT THE GODDAMN HOUSE SEEING THE RICE GETS STOLEN AND THAT I SHOULD HAVE BEEN ALERTED TO THE FACT THAT HALF OF THE FUCKING MAGIC COMPONENT TO MAKE THE GODDAM RAPESOUP (“Fame!”) WAS TAKEN ON... WHAT DAY? I DON'T KNOW BUT THERE'S A BUNCH OF GODDAM SHERIFF'S DEPUTIES (likely suspects identified: The three drooling morons who came to investigate the missing male from my house didn't say a f****** word to me but acted real tough and said that they were looking for someone in particular. That's interesting. I guess they had a goddam suspect didn't they, wow maybe they should call me. Oh wait they can't call me as I don't have goddam service on my phone. [NOTE THAT THIS IS WHY I AM SCREAMING THIS INFORMATION AT THE NIGHTMARE RECTANGLE AT FULL OUTDOOR VOLUME STANDING AT THE ENTRANCE TO THE SPACE AGE RAPE STATION & QUĪK<Ⓜ️ART ON A FOGGY FUCKING MONDAY MORNING WHILE CARS COME AND GO FREELY WHILE I SMOKE THE ONLY CIGARETTE I HAVE AND I PLOT YOUR GODDAMN DEATH, >NOT.GEORGE.NOORY AFTER I RECORD MYSELF BEATING THE S*** OUT OF YOU FOR FUTURE INCLUSION ON A PRE-RECORDED YOUTUBE™ OFFERING OF MY SOON-TO-BE AWARD-WINNING DEBRIEF/QUASI-CONFESSION/SOUS VIDE-FOCUSED COOKING SHOW, FIVE (5) MINUTES WITH JACKSTAR WHICH I AM HOPING WILL BE THE LAST GODDAM 5 MINUTES OF YOUR ENTIRE LIFE, YOU S***** LITTLE B****] I wonder why they didn't give me my f****** phone since I need my f****** lifeline to talk to the f****** police of this f****** s*** splat f****** s*** bag THEY'RE GOING TO HAVE THEIR ASSES IN A F****** SLING AND THEY'RE F****** EVISCERATED GODDAM ALIMENTARY CANAL DRAGGING ON THE GODDAM FLOOR BEHIND THEM WHILE THEY CRAWL BEGGING ON THEIR HANDS AND KNEES FOR THEIR LIFE BEFORE THE MAGISTRAIT GOUGES OUT THEIR EYES WITH A RUSTY OYSTER KNIFE, HOPEFULLY THEY HAPPEN TO HAVE ONE, IF NOT, I DO, I FUCKING GUARANTEE IT, and another needle that was used on me that I hadn't used again but that was also stolen and so instead of going off to juice up my friend FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER FOR ME, BUT I BET THERE'S A GODDAM “JUICING UP KATHLEEN ⁴4 DUMMIES” BOOK THAT IS A REAL PAGE TURNER THAT SHE'S GOT PHOTOS THEY GET ROYALTIES and have sex with her (POTENTIAL VICTIM AND OR LIKELY SUSPECT: KING CHARLES OF ENGLAND, LONG MAY HE REIGN, I LOVE YOU, YOUR MAJESTY I TRULY DO, SO SORRY TO INTRUDE ON YOUR AFTERNOON TEA, BUT AS THESE DROOLING MORONS ARE GOING TO DO IT EVERY CHANCE THEY GET, AND THEY ARE AND THEY DO, RIGHT NOW THEY'RE GOING TO DO IT, SINCE I GUESS THIS IS GOING ON LONGER THAN ANYONE YOU THOUGHT IT WAS GOING TO, MUCH LIKE THAT BLONDE HAIRED BLUE-EYED CHEERLEADING DINGBAT IS TAKING TO PAY ME BACK ANY MONEY WHATSOEVER, SHE HAS HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS, BUT SHE CAN'T GIVE ME ANY AT ALL, MOST LIKELY BECAUSE ON SOME LEVEL SHE'S MAD AT ME FOR ALLOWING HER TO GET HERSELF INTO THE SITUATION, BUT I'M PRETTY SURE I DIDN'T GET HER INTO THIS SITUATION SHE'S JUST A F****** DINGBAT WHO DOESN'T F****** TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR HER OWN LIFE AND SO BLAMES ME AND F**** SOMEBODY ELSE EVERY GODDAM DAY SHE CAN FOR THE LAST 30 F****** YEARS, BECAUSE SHE'S DEFINITELY NOT PICKING UP HOUSE WHILE SHE'S DOING THINGS FOR 30 YEARS, NOR IS SHE RUNNING A VACUUM WHILE TELLING ME ABOUT HOW SHE'S NOT GETTING F***** BY SOMEBODY AND GETTING METH IMPRINTED, WHEN SHE SAID SHE WANTED TO DO THAT WITH ME OR MAYBE SOMETHING ELSE I DON'T KNOW I HAVEN'T TALKED TO HER WHILE HER PHONE DOESN'T WORK AND HER FATHER CALLED THE POLICE TO GET RID OF ME AND INSTEAD A FAKE POLICEMAN SHOWED UP NAMED “ERROL” THAT I USED TO HANG OUT IN THE PLANETCRAP IRC SERVER WITH, HEY ERROL, YOU WANT TO RUN TOWARDS ME THROUGH FIELDS OF DAISIES WHILE MUSIC PLAYS, YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY I WAS THERE, I THOUGHT IT WAS UNWISE TO TELL YOU WHY I WAS THERE WHEN YOU ASKED, BUT I'LL TELL YOU NOW: TO F****** CATCH YOU AND IDENTIFY YOU, YOU F****** BEARDED C***, I DIDN'T THINK THAT WOULD BE GOOD TO SAY THEN, BUT YOU MIGHT AS WELL GET A TURN TOO, AND MAKE SURE THAT IT'S SET RIGHT PROPER, PLEASE AND WITH MY COMPLIMENTS, GOD BLESS YOU SIRE, REMEMBER TO RUB HER FEET, THAT'S FOR KING CHARLES, ERROL DON'T RUB HER FEET, I'M JUST GOING TO RUB YOU OUT ON THE BALD ASPHALT, YOU DRUNK DRAMA COMMUNITY W**** BAGGING F****, which I'm sure she likes to do all the f****** time cozlik, once you give her f****** crystal methamphetamine she f****** turns into a f****** cock grabbing b**** weasel, as I'm sure you f****** know, you idiot, BUT I CERTAINLY DON'T KNOW SINCE I'VE NEVER ACTUALLY DONE THAT, WITH ANYONE, NOT JUST WITH HER, COPYRIGHT MAGIC CASTLE LLC. (And frankly at this point in my life I think I've lost my taste for the notion even though I've never f****** done it, so there's another thing I can knock off my goddamn bucket list up to it including ever f****** getting a job, cuz you f****** c**** are going to pay my entire way through all of life for the next 500 f****** years Fuck you. CIGARETTES NOW FUCK YOU DOLLAR SIGN $PALADINJACKSTAR

CASHAPP OR PAYPAL
AND IF ANY OF YOU FUCKWIT RADIO NIGGERS TELL ME THAT YOU DON'T HAVE MONEY, I WILL BREAK YOUR GODDAM ELBOW RIGHT IN FUCKING FRONT OF YOU. CAPIÇHE? FILM AT 11: 11 HOLY SHIT A BROKEN ELBOW JUST FLEW OVER MY HOUSE

... and then there's her father who's enjoying this a great deal (D., I need $12 to go live or millions of people will die starting from the ground up with your little piggy, one by one. I will break your fucking metatarsal digits right off of your little piggy trotters that you use to amble around that house that you turned into a fucked slampie stableden for whores that don't whore sow well, so, sow well when they don't have a bunch of fuckme drugs and anyone named Michael Kuczi there within five hundred yards, and if you do not give me buckets of money right fucking now, you four-eyed nerd, we'll just see who's enjoying that a great deal then. Waka Waka. Basically all of you adore me. So if I have to fucking ask you one more goddam time for money, I'm going to make you give it to me out of your own goddam colostomy bag, WHICH WILL COME WITH FREE INSTALLATION BUT ANESTHESIA WILL NOT BE AVAILABLE, I GUESS SWEETIE SOLD IT WITH THE FENTANYL AFTER THE COLONOSCOPY IN WHICH I WAS IMPLANTED WITH A MODIFIED COLONORECTAL IMPLANT SO THAT NOW I EJACULATE SEMEN OUT OF MY AND S AND I CAN'T HOLD MY ANAL SPHINCTER TOGETHER WHEN I TRY TO INITIATE URINATION AND SO I SHIT ON THE FLOOR AND STILL END UP WAITING 10 MINUTES FOR A URINE STREAM TO START, WHICH IS A FASCINATING HUMILIATION RITUAL WHICH I I AM SURE MOST PEOPLE ARE GRATEFUL TO NOT BE TOO VERY FAMILIAR WITH AND NOW NO WAY MORE THAN THEY EVER WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT IT, AND I GUESS YOU DIDN'T REALLY EXPECT TO HAVE THE INNER WORKINGS OF THE FAGGETT-FILLED RADIO BROADCASTING INDUSTRY EXECUTIVE  WORLD OUTED ON THE GODDAM WEB TODAY, NOW DID YOU, WELL THAT'S TODAY'S GODDAM BLUE LIGHT LIMITED HANGOUT SPECIAL MOTHERFUCKER.) So if I go there and you tell me you don't have any money, I'm going to break your fucling jawbone in ½—


J. (“Half!”) R.I.C.O.


SIGNED,
JACKSTAR, ORCHESTRATOR OF DESTRUCTION


P.S.:. Remember: we're all friends here. And coming soon, a new release from Peenman Enterprises: It's going to be an automatic tongue extractor for when you keep on spontaneously swallowing it for reasons that will have absolutely nothing to do with the dark side of The Force, you stupid Sith lich bastard Millernigger. It's just going to fucking jump down your throat and try to hide in your stomach when it hears me coming


P.P.S.:. Hey Ladies, remember that seeking to anticipate whether my ejaculate is going to release from my urethral opening or my anus at peak apex ejaculatory bliss is now part of the value-added fun of Lovemaking with Jackstar™ now.

P.P.P.S.:. You said you needed help with the children. You said you needed help with your boys. You said you needed help with losing weight. 🤔 Well now I need help with losing track of time because I'm going to go live and tell even more stuff TO THE ENTIRE GODDAM WORLD about this exciting experience that you've been watching me have for the last five (5) years after I saved your goddam life and your eyesight, obviously there's no need to say thanks, I don't know if we have time for you to invent a word for that in the Algonquin language SINCE IT OBVIOUSLY DOES NOT GODDAM EXIST YET, but if I see that SUDDENLY TERRIFIED AND EMBARRASSED SAD FAT BALD ARCHANGEL who's running around looking like he's unhappy that he's discovering he's named Matthew, he's going to lose a pinky finger, way up past the third knuckle if you don’t have any good G∆K‽ either, like what the f*** is wrong with you? You f****** s*** out gak and it's legal for you to do so, and for you to give it to me, and for me to do it, just not in public. It's a pretty simple list of rules that were just literally given to me by The Divine, and if you didn't know them already, you're not a very good listener Which is a more important characteristic to have for a Archangel than many might, so in that case you're probably a sad fat fuck US Marshal sex predator squad team leader Captain Commandant Pope, phoning it in from Texas, it's amazing what they can do with waldoes these days, trying to pretend you're an archangel, that's cool, that's totes-totally legal. Just give me the `G∆K` anyway. I'll spare you your lives. So why the f*** aren't you giving it to me like it's f****** cotton candy, am I not entertaining you, did I not do enough for you, give me some goddamn gak you f****** moron because it's entheogenic. Get over here and give me cigarettes, fucking like, what the fuck you got to be that shy for? What are you, on duty? GIVING ME G∆K IS YOUR HOLY DUTY, ANGEL TITS. Are you that shy really? And you're going to fucking do something about it. And if that's something is nothing, you're not going to be a very goddamn popular Grapefruit anymore. (“Word.”) You f****** feel me. (Z·¡—<3®™) I know you do (my friend in the pooper, because I sure don't and I still don't even know if she has one and she's got a whole bunch of friends that you take turns banging the s*** out of, and there's seven of them. None of them fucking like me, at all, because apparently they all like stealing my friend's body and using her for degenerate creepy sex from beyond the heliopause, which for my money, is the very first thing I've ever heard of that's more disgusting than lutefisk, and I'm going to go to my residence right now, and beat the snot out of you, you stupid motherfucker. Get some gauze ready. I am not playing. Fuck you. *KIKE DICK CLICK*



coda: shout out to Carlrobert Kirkpatrick, who while he may well still be a friend, is going to never ever tell anybody to lie to his mother ever again. I can goddam guarantee that. Also, he's guilty of conspiracy and accessory to the date rape of a friend of mine named Dawn in 1993, so if you happen to see him in public just shoot him through the f****** head. He's dead anyway. Inside and out. He's just a walking and talking Scandinavian zombie pinata that s**** out Krugerrand when you beat him up so f****** do it cuz while curb stomping may be disgusting. Krugerrands are nice. Maybe you can get Jake to solo arrest you, believe me, that's f****** funnier than a f****** ping pong show and a Ty hooker

NGL: PaladinVision™ is remarkably effective at helping with certain types of speculation.

I do hope that reverse engineering this particular psyop protocol for my own benefit isn't a high crime or misdemeanor — but as no one will know what I've done unless I disclose it, I am not overly concerned.

In the meantime: what have we learned here, Bellgab? Number one: y'all are gobshite at your jobs when the target is a Source Titan. (Facts.) For example, I suppose it is imagined that a failure to achieve max peak ejaculatory apex orgiastic bliss is something that would be a... disappointment. Quite the contrary.

Newly five (5) years ago, I was asked if I had been doing this dame up in her pooper. I hadn't been. I still haven't been. However, here's what I have been doing: documenting the event for my Astral partners.

THEY HAVE EVERYTHING. (Imagine the smell.) They see me; they see her; they see whichever of you sad honk-honk clan dough bastiches spend your free fkn time observing this kind of hootenanny carnivale; and, God willing, the whack-job NerdLordz™ in their subterranean NerdLabz™ are observed to be weeping and wailing away with infuriated, frustrated rage, as the telemetry that they expected to obtain... is denied them, as it has instead been replaced by the telemetry I decided instead that they are to have.

THIS IS WHAT ONE MAN CAN DO: 🐒🔧 Pause now for a moment, and consider the effectiveness. Likely it is breathtaking, and if only I could assure you, I surely would.

However, at this time I can only state that I can neither confirm nor deny the effectiveness of the counterintelligence psychological operation I am running as a homebrew dealiē-0. (Standards.)

And now I must ask you all here: is this really a better idea than being something other than a bunch of Sperghead fuckwit mouthdrooling, larcenous assholes? Because, like: come on man.

It seems to me if you're gonna engage in a conspiracy to deny civil rights and unlawfully imprison someone for years, you might as well do it for something worthwhile. (Welcome to Amateur Hour.) Remember: this is for the Ombudsman of the United States Congress. If ever there were a time for game face: on, I should think that this was it.

But, again: this is really all just mere speculation. And of course, as always: I am really just some sexually-obsessed needle junkie. Isn't that right? (Remember that Bellgab is your Number One Source for Jackstar-focused news. Every seven years! Like clockwork! Facts that can be relied upon.

Facts that Grand Juries can trust.) Be of good cheer. This is really, just the beginning. (OF YOUR DOOM, THUGGY-DOPEY WHACK-JOB SCUM.) Good talk. Later b∞