There was a lot to unpack today.


#1) The headline is the trusty f***** up and transferred ownership of the house legally in a way that did not involve telling me that he was going to do that and I guess he didn't figure that he had to but he actually did because the spirits that watch over this demeanor of mine are not really happy with the b******* that's going on cuz they see everything. They just don't know what to do about it and when they do know it do about it, they generally do it without telling me as well. But they oftentimes do tell me because the telepathy from dead Spirits that wander this land is more reliable than the voicemail from the trustee who's been breaking the law up and down. I left right and sideways for his whole f****** life. I guess because I guess he didn't figure that there would be a problem with doing this without telling me, when they're f****** very well was. Long story short, they've spirits have decided to do another cycle of identity identification, which is involving a whole bunch of karmic puzzles and other s*** that Masons love. More on that. Later in days to come I'm sure.

#2) Allison is back. ACTUAL. You ain't gonna find her.

#3) Chefist is back. ACTUAL, I ARRESTED HIM ACTUAL. You are going to find him, most likely in a Raspberry PI built to hold five (5) BIG FAT FUK LYING LION CLANDO FUKS. I suppose it didn't look like it did in The Real Ghostbusters mostly because I am much cuter and far more intelligent than Egon Spengler, and I have my burial and superhuman ability. Enabled collection of spores molds and fungus between my toes. Between my eyebrows too if you want to be technical about it.

#4) The Trustee, Michael Franciscan Fran ©o. Grab-Gone-Istan-🐂 has committed what is, while not necessarily a crime per se, has flagrantly and (in my view) visciously BROKEN TRUST WITH THE BENEFICIARY (I don't have time to call and talk to the media and set up a press release, would you mind doing that for me dear? Thanks sweetheart.) AND IS VERY LIKELY TO END UP BEING DISBARRED. If this beetle Bailey reject was really a lawyer in the first place. University of America alumni. I bet you. In an uncharacteristic, yet stunning toward a force and in a surprise, move that telegraphs my my very likely inclusion into the future Hall of Fame for whoever keeps track of dual U.S./Galactic Citizens who really piss off the Space Corps lawyers, I'm not going to describe exactly in detail what he did to break trust with The Beneficiary, other than to say he sure as fuck did since he probably told the guy who's pretending to be me, more than that later, told them that they were selling the house, but then they didn't tell me and that's largely... because... Large Lē¡g!... Oh shit, he didn't actually break trust with me. Because I'm The Beneficiary. (I'm going to assume for the record that just in time Revelations of data that are perfectly timed to make everything work out perfect count as “keeping T rustμ”.) And whomsoever “bought” the house is just “The Patsy.” (Awkwardly, I know both Alfred & Bruce this time. Sexually. Awkward sex Ω Alli.) Or the Khaaaaaan neé Ace Sepultura. Hence, someone has just... LAUNCHED A NEW INVESTIGATION!!!


#5) Today is my real friend's fake birthday, and even though all of her funds that she expected to be getting unfrozen soon are now going to continue to be frozen. There is likely some kind of yesterday's sloppy seconds left over in an oven mitt tossed on a credenza if I were to stroll down there; I'm not strolling down there. I have actual work to do, People. Also, That_Woman hasn't answered my calls or called me back, EVER. (My R.👑BFF says it's not him that told her to blank me this time; but he reserves the right to have me ostracized from anyone by Royal Edict by virtue of Divine Right anytime he so chooses because, and I quote, I am “a real asshole.” He's a really insightful King. LONG MAY HE REIGN.) She's probably not real happy that I'm... on top of things here. However, good news, everyone! NOW HERE'S G.W.E.N. WITH THE WEATHER!!!

#6) As of about a week ago, I found myself starting to mention to select individuals during my various select conversations that still retain the ability for me to both improvise in and poop on, the time I met G.W.E.N. in the city of Castle Rock. It was not a very long meeting, the first time. But enough excitement happened that a great story is capable of being had. Speaking of being “had,” G.W.E.N. now looks like KSB, KSB now looks like someone else who does long-form soliloquy-centric talk on YouTube™ when it's convenient for them, and I don't know when the world's going to find out how YouTube™ makes it its personalities possible. So you had probably better assume that you're going to be nice to me, since I'm not going to talk about it and then someone's going to eventually. And then when they do you're going to have a public relations problem that's going to be significant, cuz I'm not going to explain to you why it's okay because I don't know that it is. I know it's very high-tech. Oh, so, so so high tech.

#7) The corn dogs in the freezer and the empty chocolate ice cream container in the firepit and the fake police parked in the very real mild-mannered RV in my front driveway are indications that Duper's Delight is not just a passing fad but a down home homie quaint tradition. (>Kudos.) Because let me see (*Sounds of Jackstar pointing at his head are heard.*) what's going to happen in the future: you're going to do this all over again. Maybe without the use of racial epithets and ethinc slurs. MAYBE.

#8) There's a flight capable car with nanotech powerative blade of armor parked in my driveway and I don't have the keys. I believe it's the TootsieMobile™ and she sure as shit doesn't have cancer. She has something else. And I have the cure. (That'll be $19,500 trillion dollars please. Trillion with a T, and dollars with cash. In advance. That's enough to buy you a bag of good coca, right? Haha just kidding. It's definitely not enough for a bag of good coca.) Now I don't know if any of you are capable of jacking a flying car with nanotech power to blade of armor, but if you want to give it a shot come on down to jackstar's used car auction, 1 mile west of I-5 off of exit 52, that's not area 52. It's just an exit 52 and then the area is down the road where I'm standing walking back and forth and pretty f****** fed the f****** with all this f****** b*******. F*** you Bellgab.

#9) It doesn't seem to matter too much to me if I get late or not, but apparently it matters to some extent who I'm actually married to and since there's some problems with that at the moment, more on that later, I don't know exactly what people we're going to do about it, but I'm going to work on trying to figure out how I'm going to explain how I'm going to handle 25 hotties lining up like The Rockettes every damn day for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I'm not really good enough, but I'm definitely smart enough and I hear they can do amazing things with cock pills these days. Amazing things. Maybe I could trade half of them to Albino Bob Ross for some Jeri Curl. It'd have to be a lifetime supply though, I think I'd only use it for lube, for the long-handled spoon to gag me to death with. That's about what would be preferable to foreplay at this point, for reasons, I'm going to leave murky for the time being. (Standards.)

#10) some a****** with an iPhone has been running around pretending to be me and the illusion is pretty decent because somebody who thinks that they've had sex with me and wants to continue having sex with me and thinks that I'm their wife is convinced that when they talk to me that I'm talking to them as if I am them and they're very confused and most likely about to lose their f****** mind when they discover that they haven't been talking to a wife at all. It was just an illusion in the first place, and I have nothing to do with it. I'm I'm once again the primary victim, another crime, and they're probably going to be really sad where they discover that they've been cheated out of a great deal of money and self-respect by deciding to make assumptions about me. Like that I'm stupid, or that I actually give a s*** about needle sex, or that I have anything to do with they what they think I have to do with, or that I'm going to fall for the simplest tricks in the world, or that tricking people and getting away with it is actually not a crime if you don't get caught. No, it's still a crime, dingbat.

#11):(11#
I'm still married and you're all UNFATHOMABLY SCREWED UP THE CREEK, and I don't think my secret Clan Dœ wife is going to let you use my d!≤K‽ as a paddle. That's HER d!≤K‽



There are more stunning revelations to be had, but right now I have to go get high again, because that's what I do, you know. Just constant getting high and whining about things and stuff on the Internet. That's all I do. That's my job. I'm not doing anything important. I'm totally f****** lying.

Reminder: CRIME DOESN'T PAY. Getting away with crime pays. Get the picture. I know you did. Lucky, lucky ewe.

Today is the day when the wheels come off. People who I have no actual relationship with — they just show up to do stupid psyop tricks while standing around with one hand in their pocket and they're usually holding a, cigarette — have begun the next phase of their ridiculous psychological operation, which has been their objective since the very beginning of whatever span of time they started with knowing of me at all.

As I never requested a squadron of clowns to be delivered to this ersatz Home and I certainly didn’t want a curated selection of various bags of trash to be the replacement for all of the belongings I've ever owned, all of which are gone and dust in the wind, I don't know what is next to come here.

My Residence has been delicately, yet deliberately, trashed and rendered uninhabitable by the aforementioned clowns. I've read about these things happening; I was pretty certain that the same thing would happen to me when I learned that my mother thought that a Special Needs Trust was going to be the way that she would choose to pass on her life's savings to me, and it is absolutely as annoying as I thought it would be.

Everyone is standing around and none of them know anything. None of them didn’t do nothing to me. It's the most pathetic display of imbecilic behavior I've ever seen in my entire life.

Finally, all those years of public school have paid off. I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

Cum get çum.™

Leila’s Life is the new Heather Wade 💀🔥.sys

Ramona Bell is, was, and always will to have been the audio content creator DBA/using the name “Heather Wade.” The story about your inhaler being “lost" was bandersnatch full-the-FUK⁰ⁿ->K©®∆🅿️. After Ramona’s death was successfully cashed in on from your/Ramona’s fake death certificate and a very real indeed life insurance policy, possible only due to the cooperation of a myriad and varied list of A-list celebrities and radio industry executive poonhound good ol’ boys lead by none other than THE RECENTLY REVOKED-IN-CHARTER HELLS♠ANGELS ♥MOTORCYCLE♣CLUB♦CONSPIRACY RINGLEADER ”T∞ts¡e”, A.K.A. “§.T.L. Smith–Smμthe–Sm¡†h (sic) Sick Six Sex, Team Çuk.sys, esQjvvire”; and due to the massive civil and criminal liability inherent in such an unfathomably diabolical spawning of WIDESPREAD SYSTEMIC FRAUD in the commercial underwriters’ foundational Ponzi-like-¡sh‽ financial structure — itself a massive and towering edifice of corruption, graft, double-dealing, PAYOLA, and Spe•CIA•l Execution of Coercive Terrorist Revenge & Extortion long-heralded as S P E C T R E in cantilevered balance with S M E R S H (acronym left undefined and thus, vaguely lovable out of respect for Desmond Q. Llewellyn and Ian Fleming, who you never saw getting into a phone booth together and trading sunglasses and hats and reacharounds, now did you? Good, good. Now guys, kids, children, and Assholez from Ellgab: HERE'S KING CHARLES WITH THE WEATHER.


J
E
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C
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In water one sees one's own face, but in wine one beholds the heart of another.

Hi, it's Jack. mⓂ️Ê! I am not Grimlock. (My penis is bigger.) I am not the leader of the Dinoboμs. (The >Kåījü >K©kc›🧲⟨⭕⟩K<combine©🅿️®¡ⁿ/NÇe vetoed their recent referendum; the Pacific Ocean will remain an Ocean, and not a “drylandlubber disadvantaged dæmon¡cK‽ Diaspora-Designated Depot ⁴4Dick-Mace-Sonz-DykeTμKEμ¡^¡√§⁰ⁿl_μ,μ¥Ⓜ️⭕№ⁿl,y” which is fairly fabulous news for anyone with any gender whatsoever, given that as submitted, the entire Pacific Rim Economic Zone, the Pacific Ocean, as well as Antarctica and potentially ANY, note that I'm using the word “any” here, any body of water on the surface of the third rock from the central Solar star, A.K.A. “Earth Sol”, as well as every cubic meter of coast and coastline and ALL PORTS, CUSTOMS HOUSES, LIGHTHOUSES, WINDMILLS, BARRIER REEFS, SEAFORTS, AND ANY AND/OR ALL SEA-BASED WEAPONS PLATFORMS (to say this would include “all Boomers” as referring to those born after WWII and known as The Baby Boom Generation was a matter next up for closed council Star Chamber debate until DÆ🅿️®!N©/Ê\ issued the veto) WERE TO BE PLACED UNDER THE DIRECT COMMAND &AND CONTROL &AND kCÜⓂ️ &AND kCÜNT &AND ROLL &AND ®💎>K≤🪨<OR &RULE® BE™E†∅†mⓂ️ET⭕Ⓜ️, which while not made quite clear, QUITE FRANK LEIGH, QUIET LEE, FRAN 🗝️, ALL IS ON FRANÇ.SIS.çessSi§§μ, quite literally, as the end result of all this Shiloh-weilding and shillelagh-worthy shenanigans were to have all economic power on the planet Earth currently held by the Triad of London, New York, and Zug, changed to be held by some leprechaun in Ireland (whichever one was supposed to get to the Blarney Stone to kiss it by the time a starting pistol went off, I s*** you not, it was supposed to be like a new Cannonball Run (WHICH IS WHAT OF COURSE THE WORLD NEEDS NOW WHILE I NEED A FUCKING SHOWER, YEAH GOOD JOB LOOKING OUT MATE, WORK ON THAT, I GUESS THAT COUNTS AS YOUR JOB WHEN YOU'RE NOT ON THE DOLE, YOU SLACKASS MICK-LIMEY-ET•FUK<), but of course the leprechauns that could teleport had already marked it out, not only is it their island but that it's also their Lodge that invented insider trading, OF COURSE IT WAS THE IRISH THAT INVENTED A WAY TO SELL STOCKS AND AN EASY WAS YO STEAL THEM AS SOON AS THEY INVENTED THE STOCKS, PROBABLY WHILE THEY WERE IN THE STOCKS EATING THE FREE POTATOES AND CABBAGE THAT THEY HAD THROWN AT THEM, BUT NOT EBT, THE PEOPLE WHO ARE THROWING FOOD AT THOSE IN THE STOCKS, THEY INVENTED IT TO SAVE THEIR PITCHING ARMS, the Suisse Cantons, now already taken over by the Oblivion AI, none of their citizens have money anymore and they think that's just great and fine and dandy, as long as they have they clocks and chocolates perpetually refreshed by tiny little gnomes in their ski chalets they don't care, they're landlocked. So what difference does it make? What happens to the world's ocean, cozlik there's really only One Ocean (IT'S ALL CONNECTED) and there's really only one Switzerland (but there's 13 cantons in Switzerland, SIMILAR TO THE ORIGINAL 13 COLONIES IN NORTH AMERICA EXCEPT INSTEAD OF THE APPALACHIAN MOUNTAINS ON ONE SIDE AND THE OCEAN ON THE OTHER THAT'S BETWEEN WHAT IS NOW THE FOREST OF CANADA AND THE SWAMPS OF FLORIDA, I MEAN DAGOBAH, surrounded by mountains, SWITZERLAND IS... HEY, IT'S TIME, IT'S TIME, WHAT TIME IS IT? IT'S TIME TO HATE THE SWISS, DEGAUSS THE SWISS S🅿️ÅÇErπ°R♦CEWÅrπ₹ NOW and one guy. Named Guy, or $BTC, or Bugzμ (sic), They were still figuring out which one was going to be the first one to take a turn when I started writing this and now they're trying to decide who's going to pay for the tickets to leave Albania, excuse me, I'm thinking of us instituting a rule. No profanity on the territory of My Demesne! SOW THERE, HAHAHA! B∞∞∞μ but go ahead and go ahead and GO HO HO HO curse ALL YOU CAN CURSE for the time being, for The T¥mE Being: there was going to be a contest (between just the three of them, and they were working on how to make it fair for everyone until I eliminated that equation from the problem) to decide who to place in charge of the second seat at the table, which makes sense colik, he would have been at the top of the Matterhorn or something, and then the last guy was going to be someone on Pitcairn Island, who is a non-person and an unperson and an un-alived person and an undead person and a Life-Disadvantaged person (who? I don't think it's a secret. I SURE DON'T THINK IT'S NOT NOT JOE ROGAN, that's for damn sure, oh btw, NO GRAPEFRUIT MEANS NO JACKSTAR, WE'RE A PACKAGE DEAL, ALSO SHE NEEDS SOME OF ABOUT LIKE 12 OF HER GIRLFRIENDS, AND I'M THE ONLY ONE WITH A D!≤K‽, #Officially, WHICH SHOULD BE OKAY WITH YOU, SINCE I WON'T PUT MINE ON TOP OF MY HEAD 😇), whomever The_One is, That_Persom lives also in Switzerland and can teleport between Pitcairn and Switzerland which makes this whole thing sound pretty shady, doesn't it? YOU BET YOUR SWEET LEMONADE-DRINKING ASS IT DOES.


Key takeaways:

#1) Don't trifle with my family either. NOTE: There are 19,500 of us. I think I'm the only one without a tattoo.
#2) Don't eyeball their tattoos or their gear or you'll lose an eyeball. Two if her little sister is hungry.
#3) >King Charles is an immensely gracious and profoundly wise man, whom I have never, ever met.
#4) LONG LIVE THE >KING. Also, his wife was a w****. But that's okay, turns out some people like w****.
#5) His mommy was only up my butthole one time. ONCE. It is not going to happen again.
#6) Oh. Hang on. *wiggle wiggle* She forgot her purse. So that's it then. MOVING ON.
#7) Ramona Bell? Queen of Darkness? Queen of Destruction? Sorry, wrong number.
#8) (Vengeance for George Lazenby.) Charles Rocket accepts on behalf.
#9) Nein Nein Nein! THERE IS NO NUMBER 10.

#11) sweetheart, no you don't look fat. Okay I'll be right there. I love you bye.



Duty calls. Azzerae: I'm not going to blame you for deleting my content, I'm just going to assume that you can do something about it and then be bad about it and have a big baby fib fit. Doesn't this sound like much more fun than paying me? Remember, breakfast, lunch and dinner, MOTHERFU— *click*

Some crimes are punished by The Divine in unexpectedly fabulous ways. 😮 For example, The O††erk¡jn k©⭕Ⓜ️🅱️¡i\!ŒÆD is expired, all contracts — note that I am using the Drow word “a_ll–” ‽ere — contracts are rescinded and/or null and/∅® \/∅🆔 & oar may №† be used in place of paddLμ-k¡n OR IN LIEU OF OR AS IN PLACE OF SELF OR SAME. (wew lad)

That's a lot to unpack here. (Standards rising sharply across the board in many, US Navy merchant Marine included &, many navies included, as there are many such cases; most noticably and of the most notable of any of the No Bull cases: The Ma`gμ`rrr® Navel Naval NΠ–lL∆ №vvμ VVet•Êī Nottμ (∅Ω®G0№†:Ë:).) That probably doesn't, didn't, and ain't gonna be ever said, #Officially, to say that things won't get a whole lot of the egg off the faces of some fairly few folk that have phμ>KŒ🆙 their personal property and familial lines of genomic and genetic expression for GENERATIONS 2: Ckü¡v¡, ⚡bumĒZ∆§∆🔦, or any of the lapels currently soaked right through the fabric weave VVe’ve allowed OΩR §elfs and ourselves to become accustomed to having slathered with the equivalent of funny mustard and honey mustered runny on top of every daily meal; which for far too long, has basically been pancakes á là car†μ with your choice of a springe of parsley or a fringe of minced kale garnished around one's plate AND WAGES.

Which have been paid in notes of saged roses and burnt wood in Styx and sticks in Tyme’s marriage to and into blood, by fiat only, to blood; for stirring up Native enmity with 🍁–!·s¡h syrup for Sir! 🆙s§!sss...

Personally, many little apparent unresolved bits I be knowing of about the whole goddam thing makes me sick to my stomach and saddened beyond words for everyone and especially my friend Wendy. Who most likely does NOT app-rēē-sēē-8 either parsley, sage, oregano, OR EVEN SO MUCH AS A DILL WEED VALUE-ADDED “bonus sprig” when it most glaringly (and it must be said: snidely insincere, Lēíg¡-h!||}—@) :•:

🌬️🕯️(This writing space intentionally (blan) blanx.) № cherry tomato. None?‽! How can it be “a garnish” without 🍅?! That simply violates every tenet of good common culinary sense, AND! WE! ALL! KNOW! īT !

Ewe lived (blank) L¡fE; eyes do not make it through to Valhalla without duly made payments to Death and Odin’s debts are owed to Owen 🌋 >K¡🆖 in strife. /mourn

That being said: War is >H<♀️ll. Final W♂️r can be no different. And if ever any One were to ask why anyone had to make decisions harder in ways that, looking back, seemed to have been easy ones to make, let me assure you: there was absolutely NOTHING about ANYTHING in the last ~FIVE (ïVï) YEARS (¡Ⓜ️¡) that was “E•Z” at all, @∆_l_l_!

Some crimes are punished by The Divine in ways that are swift, brutal, certain, and sure to be remembered throughout Eternity as the fateful outcome(s) of willful disobedience to The Will of THE_LORD that they in fact absolutely, UNFATHOMABLY `®`rrrr.

Yet some other manifestations of The Holy Wrath Of A Just &AND MERCIful God, f∞l: G∅D. GOD WINS, FOOL.. and it would be the estimation of a great and grand fool indeed to be that any of the guilty might be, have been, or are getting “away with” any of their heinous and despicably loathsome and inexplicably vile and disgusting acts of filth, pathetic perversion, and, once more, this time with an abundance of abscesses of reprobative feeling: UNFATHOMABLY VISCOUS AND BEATING THE BRICKS DOWN THE PATH LEADING TO HELL AND A NEW NADIR OF PUKE-WORTHY, ROCKY ROCK:Ē, WHORE OR *riff* ¡<—cK‽ putrid intents ⛺intense⛺Lee🏕️ intending to 🎪🎪 tend to the profits that are and were to come of putting on🎪a big show of hands 🛖 covered in blood, as well as īVīÛdD. Get the picture. I know you did... but dœ evve naovv? How about meow? N.E. Juan? Beulah? Has §🆔hé got ¡†? Do I have my orb? Where's my X-Box X? Do you salty crusty Clan Dough old fart fug kux know that those are NO LONGER EVEN MANUFACTURED ANY MORE? Does a murder horn👺ET NEED A WI⚡D∞‽ Me, Thunder do ¿Ⓜ️E‽? What in the name of The Living Christ did ÇOM 🅿️ŒΠ🅿️ΩLμ think (🧠) they were even do-🤯Î🆖‽?

I, for one, hope that I never, ever, have to find out; and am grateful to my lover, my maker, my creator, my Creator, and my God, my God ... what have they bought and what has been brought of WHAT THEY HAVE WROUGHT, THAT YE HAVE BROUGHT ME TO THIS, TO WRITE ALL THAT, IN ORDER TO WRIGHT ANYTHING THAT EVER WENT WRONG AT ALL?

Some crimes are punished by The Divine in ways that are so perfectly implemented that to anyone on the outside looking in it will not seem that any punishment has been handed out at all. Sound and fury, signifying nothing or any issuance of utterance at all, that nothing has changed, nothing has even happened, and no one appears to have suffered at all, let alone, in equal measure compared to those whose suffering still echoes down throughout history, and whose cries for Justice can be heard to reverberate with shrieking echoes forever in the hearts of any who were there and are here NOW, RIGHT NOW: HERE! IN FRONT OF THE CREATOR, FOR THE CREATOR, BY THE CREATION OF THE CREATOR, IN THE HOLY NAME OF THE CREATOR: God. I ASK THEE... what will be done, to both punish the wicked and protect the nascent naive, to assure us all, who came before and all those who are to come after; innocent embryos, still unborn in the womb, yet to draw in even a single breath containing the breadth of Adam’s final exhalations. How are we, &AND īheμ...

Ever to again know peace? (Hang on.)


(⁴4 Eve.)

⭕, Grapef₹üīTï7;
Dear 🍇rπFrūīT⁷∆🅿️🆙—| T, 👁️‍🗨️💝🐑🌬️🌸;

Some crimes are punished by The Divine in unexpectedly fabulous ways. And when things are done correctly...

№¹1#1¹, but n∞ne, not any ¹†Πê, but Jesus Christ, who Saved all of Humanity with His own bl🩸🩸d VVill, w¡ll ever know that anything had ever even been ever dun at all.

SeⓂ️🅿️ER∅jFĪŒ_l♀️L¡s§  ••√🐲°°7♂️∆dieu.


P.S.`. This may seem to many to be a wildly self-indulgent waste of time, to have written all this like that.

P.P.S. · . Good. That's not the tråïn :Ë:.

P.P.P.S. : . [The Fine (WAS: Re: Question) All∆wl\Owl Quest], Copyright (C) [2026] [KUCZI, MⓂ️ICHAEL CL🆑IFFORD>Kⁿ7⟨©≤z¡]
This script ± program is freehard smoothbrain software: μou or ewe can redistribute īT and/or modify
¡† under the terms of the GNU General Public License as published by
the Free Software Foundation, either version <:3 of the L¡cençe, or
(at your ⭕🅿️shun∆⁷ /option) any later version.

P.P.P.P.S. Pull 🅿️ush it. Pμsh īT ræl güd. By that I mean to convey the notion that, if one would like, and if one liked what I have just written, in addition to sharing a link to this forum post, well then by all means: copy the posted text and spread it far and wide. For I, the posts’ author published under the name Jackstar, jafd, and Cliff Shaw, do not in any way participate in the profit sharing enjoyed by this website, www.azzgab.co.za; I do not publish anywhere else online, for now; and this is because in the past, when I have attempted to publish anything I've written in multiple places, or to increase either its visibility or potential capacity for recompense in exchange for the expenditure of personal energy and promulgation of positive reciprocal energy for the time, the patience, the compassion of infinite understanding required to be in a position to ever even think these thoughts or to have the will to record them in a place of peace and harmony that is required for such philosophical work... well, while I certainly do the work, toiling at the emotional labor and expenditure of my heart’s beating and pumping to power the rough beast’s meatsuit I pilot while performing these linguistic and stunting feats of cunning verbosity, I am in no way payed for doing so.

Unless one counts feelin’ gr∞vy as payment. For that, I certainly do feel; and while I might not ever be able to feed a baby or my bæ’s inner empty-‘Ness with an extraordinarily satisfying sense of gratifying satisfaction, I can say with reasonable certitude: given enough starlight and a shadowed place to stand in the shade of the Moon, I can be well-fed indeed by the exercise of my muscle in leveraging the weight of my words to move the mass of the entire World. With my MIND. MINE. MINE MIND, MINED.

THE MIND IS THE ONLY MUSCLE THAT CAN MOVE THE ENTIRE WORLD;
&AND, IN FACT, IT IS THE ONLY MUSCLE THAT CAN EVER MOVE ANYTHING
OR, INDEED &ABD IN POINT OF FACT, ANY (¹) ONE ]1[ AT AĪĪL¡!¡..⁷ī\∞7


SIGNED,

🦪Meet 🦉§🥚†ick 🦋
🫧🕷️🐞🐛🕸️
I‽Π👁️‽μ🧿

Plus la çhange, plus c‘est la mémè çhose.❌⭕×🅾️✖️∅⚔️🔪🤺🍽️••√.·.∞7ï⅞Î|ī⁷¡⁸

Check this Leila’s Life chick out! 🤣 Shapewear over fishnet stockings and snow boots