24
« Last post by Jackstar on October 16, 2025, 12:02:22 PM »
I like to know occult knowledge. Occultists like to be left alone to do whatever. We are not the same.
My accomplishments are undermined by operatives stealing from me and interfering with my objectives without mentioning why. It's usually some past life karma thing.
I'm not worried about this kind of thing. I already knew it was looney tunes when people thought that I had been stupid for not noticing the setup. I don't understand to this day what they were thinking would happen.
“we'll dispose of him easily.” without my tacit approval I can't be moved along at all now. I'm Clergy.
People have heard of me. It's real. It's also annoying. For you, I'm saying. Annoying for you. I'm not annoyed at all. And y'all seriously thought i might be working with “police.” huh. well, it was a paranoid time.
Dave and Matt and Michael are the same man, with AI synthesis and support, its amazing what technology can do, and of course one man gets three spouses.
Of course they both hate me. I have made a mockery of how they value their lives. Just by being me.
Fortunately this won't be a big deal. I'm not going to uncover more real estate fraud. That would be a silly fear.
“I think he's trying to steal my dogs.” — the totes honest face, hanging wide open. The dawning amazement; I'm supposed to look like I'm an antagonist. Like I'm upset about something.
It's not just hard to deweaponize someone. Basically just stop gaslighting them and relax for a time without working a problem until a solution is found.
I was told that I had stolen drugs (cannabis, CM, LSD) and that I had done so to sell them. I heard similar briefings at odd intervals and I could not tell if it was a subtextual joke or what it sounds like after a Manchurian is activated.
I don't really have any one to ask. And I don't know any Central Reference Office. I bet my mother had known them all.
And she told me nothing. Obviously there was a great deal of information. Also, there once was a much larger amount of my property around me than there is now.
Could it be, 🤔 a portal?
Oh, I know now; they knew each other, and of course a sacrifice was a regular event. And of course a lot of people have seen their earnings and potential earnings drop after word spreads to the four corners that someone hasn't been very nice.
I don't need to get into this section. Reputation is funny stuff. “please leave!”
I am beloved. You are a snooty, demanding aristocracy with no strong understanding of what purpose I might lend myself towards. We are not the same.
Nearly four years later; yeah, you almost got me, any minute now, and I was so vicious when I failed to pretend there was nothing strange happening. How dare I?
There is no real reason for me to be not okay. It could have been worse by far, and as I haven't been told, it must not be too terrible. The bonus footage in the trailer, and Linda's trap house, and anywhere else I was exhorted into unnatural reaction, well, it's likely not going to go that far at all.
I don't need it to go anywhere; and with zero corroborative data, it may as well be Fantasyland. With comms intercepted, it might be a coverup for a huge windfall!
It really is, because this is huge. A parliament of hag owls has acknowledged its carnal sadness, on some level. I've seen things happen. I've heard a woman say that if I murdered her, I would spend life in prison! So, I better not!!
It could mean a couple things. She had just been sexed by M. Decon while disguised as me, which might bring back memories of being murdered the next day after the only time (after the first) and the most recent frame attempt (she got mad because she orgasmed and expressed pleasure in a way that might be captured on her hidden camera feed — true or not, this is part of the fantasy, and in any case, I'm not supposed to be happy about openly challenging her authority... and I'm not happy about various attempts made by unknown number of joyfriends who invariably have limitless chem stems and post hypnotic passive aggression to imprint the solid idea that I am a huge waste of any woman's time, especially hers... which is why the memory of a start of surprise and a flash of hot anger from the face is a delight, since... it's probably a soul fragment from the uberthug who commanded the active experience. Maybe. I'm not clear on how all this works, really. So, I called for a 911 wellness check, and then I called her dad to inquire if the police had been there, and then he got irritated, said that I should “fuck you,” I guess, and hung up with a slam. That was the last I heard of the man who indicated that, no, there was nothing I needed to know were I to resume sexy relations with his daughter, it had been 23-ish years, I had went for an STD panel, all normal stuff, and yet somehow no one mentions OH HEY WE'RE BLOOD WITCHES FROM RAYTHEON AND WE CAST SPELLS AND SHIT AND... WE BUILD CASES ON BLAMELESS POLITICAL DISSIDENTS WHILE SPENDING MONEY WE EMBEZZLED, AND EVER SINCE CHRISTMAS, when it was either attempted murder or a clumsy accident, not one fuck was given, it's a different set of priorities when one is a clan dough doll. I guess.
Given the close proximity of other men that can do things like abusively assault the sex act without much consent while imprinting MethDick™ on top of “Jackstar™” doesn't have enough money, and cheated by going to another woman for transport to another frame attempt, the woman is not fiercely grasping sanity as it is. Why do I seem like a killer to her?
She hangs up before I can begin to study. Even if I had an answer, would it stay that way? It's impossible to tell, because these men coordinated an effort to encourage me to break the law with her, and I didn't, but it turns out that an eager beaver co-defendant was more than happy to whoop it up with them, after stealing whatever drugs I had (who knows, really), because while she and I are not allowed to enjoy our selves... they are nonetheless still drug and sex addicts, and it's a way for them to pass the time.
Since there is seemingly not much fun to interact with her “normally” since her biker gang/military support peer group has more awareness of the situation than they did before, whenever that was.
Since I appeared to be more and more unhinged as I learned more of what happened at various times, and I seemed to be unrestrained in my consumption of drugs, looks of worry and concern populated the faces of Nancy (Beth), Dan-uh (Kirsten), Anthony (Shanji ikari), and Beau Radach, because there had to be a way to get me into a psych ward, and I have obligingly complied, mostly by watching seasoned drama coordinators play act as if I was creating a disturbance by being there at all. cozlik, I'm so unwelcome. (Calls to ask for money are often a coded message to quickly say, I am to blame for all her life's ills.) And after frontin’ that it was called for, my belongings were then taken again, because I'm supposed to be really unhappy and broke. Destitute. No money!
The illusion is pretty solid. There is certainly not much left, and I do nothing to gather more. Being ambushed on a holiday has a way of solidifying one's life.
There is no try: the accomplishment is that here is the woman she claimed I was “cheating” with, except both are Bellgab Elite, are building a case on me, presumably, at the behest of someone, and the entire arrangement is full on kayfaybe. This gal has bazoomz out for a yard. This means nothing, for without the correct chemical compound, no affection will ignite any spark, point blank period. I don't know where to get such a dose.
She still pretends to not be “into” drug use. In two? Oh, it's all full-on torchfood. It is as completely inauthentic as it ever was, because, once again, I don't have the drugs she needs to tolerate cockbreath.
These are the realities of being a seasoned mk active person type thing. In her case, I have no real conceptualization of what this world is like, since I am rarely spoken to, never greeted or hugged, and made it quite clear that I wasn't cheating at all. Until I discovered dual loyalty, I hadn't any interest at all in being dishonest.
Why lie about it? I don't know about other people. I am proud to say that we gave it the old college try, and thankfully her oinky peer group can fill in the blanks while Grapefruit does something at work, likely not apologizing, but she's not sorry so okay, and I'm still going on about this? BECAUSE THEY KEEP CALLING AND ORBITING AND HANGING ON. IT'S WEIRD. NGL.
But everyone knows it already. I don't find myself having to go back, hell no, they hate me there now, because I get high, legally, and they don't know for sure, they didn't ask, but they wonder, but I don't want to say, just one time. No, I have never gotten high with this broad.
She does that with others. With me, she calls and asks for money. Or mentions that she doesn't have gas and her car needs repairs. If there were anything legit, I would have bought another car anyway. That's not what this is.
This is what I remind Grapefruit with that, while I'm not really doing so, oh, it's been months, does it even matter? She doesn't think much of me, because I don't give her coca, I can't give her crystal, and she just wants money anyway. It is amongst the least most stimulating cuddle talk. She doesn't even cuddle. She huddles. Or cringes. Something less than alluring.
She's not trying to attract me. She calls and tells me I'll go to prison if I murder her — with my dick it is hoped, the most deadly thing about me — so she must have the fear somehow. I'm not going to find out how. She and her father do not go to the rapy to get her.
Actually, I don't know. And I assume every time for months, that's the last l will see of her, and she keeps trotting back around. She is never slutty for sex.
I have never seen this person express legitimate sexual arousal. No unlock chem, no interest in cock at all. Unlocked or not.
So, I do hope Grapefruit acknowledges this, because the truth is I had to reason to be on the outs, except the secret group of narcs. It would have helped had I known. And, then I would have known why they were implying I was secretly taking drugs and going a 116 miles south to have a sex romp, and that has never happened.
I didn't even know it was an option.
And at this final month, I realize that this was all silly, because I was stubborn. I wanted to be asked if I knew something or other, it hardly matters now. They're both aware that someone else would be preferable, and she never asked me. She just had attraction magic on her, and we only played Quake twice. Weird, weird, weird. And why she calls me for money or to tell me of my sure trip to prison. If I murder her.
There's a NO TRESPASS notice for me, because now they have it all, that can sort of say that there's proof that I brought... “drugs”. So what? Okay, well, she's been Court-orded. Don't do that one.I think. I think she likes to smoke coca. I know she likes to do it without me.
I know that we don't, it didn't work well without the unlock chemical, I didn't even get any drugs to do with her, and so, we have not. This soothes us both. Because if she wanted to, sure, but she really hasn't, and Allison decided to loudly imply that I was hiding something.
This was three years ago. I guess. No calls. No visits. No message at all. I guess it's awkward, because I'm not trying really hard to impress, because that's not what I started with.
It feels better to not have anyone else to remember, than it would to have another lover, because a real person would likely be memorable.
What is not memorable is the reason for the end to communication. It could be something serious. It could be a new development in sacred chewing tobacco, or the birth of a fat pig, signifying truffle stuffing.
What it really is that someone is becoming useful, because someone needed to be, and for some reason, her dad kept asking about a gun, if he came out on the deck with his firearm, what would I do?
*sigh* What else? Fuck his daughter with it. Right in the pussy and everything. Gosh!
Just kidding. I would help him aim a little. I don't know what the big deal was. No one even told me. I couldn't ask. I didn't give a shit. Everyone is stealing from me. Did she take out a mortgage? I have no idea.
And I am still hit up on for cash. By all of them. My guess is that they had a brisk business in bag bouncing, no shame in it unless you let them lick the spatula, but then cannabis remarked recreational, and the three (3) years we first dated, I never saw no crystal. I was jeered at, one time. But without verbal consent, A MAN'S VOICE ON TAPE, SAYING CRYSTAL METHAMPHETAMINE, GOTTA HAVE IT, WITHOUT THAT, IT'S HARD TO CLAIM I'M A DRUG DEALER. Nevertheless, this was a go-to step in this dame’s arsenal.
Nearly four years later, she's asking for money and not explaining how all these oinkers have time in the day to harass ME. Well, she's important, and in theory, we are still friends. I've never seen the other people.
I don't think it matters. My point is made. Whatever has been happening, hey, great for you, also I'm being robbed, that's okay, it was perfectly them.
I wasn't supposed to be non-helpful. But three (3) years wondering why any cold shoulder, and the suggestion is “might be a cop,” it's gotta be passive aggression, and she's sleeping with the gal who never broke up with me, she merely cried while sneering merry Christmas at me and of course she has sex with women. Duh. What was the problem?
Her story didn't add up, three years and there's never a thought to check what happens in account if the rumors, spread on the very site she first says she never heard of, and then later after a juicing, she is Queen of, I'll always have BALLGRAB, don't count on it, so any idea why the tight whine?
Yep, me neither. And I just bored myself to death. Go bears!
So it's wonderful to be ransacked again, and my money drained, and if that mattered, well, okay.
I think they have eight or nine houses like this, just wanting for some one to die. And this was the way it was for a dozen years, and I was never asked to lend anything.
Then I'm The>Kingpinner. And there has been no follow up, because it's best for earning if we all just forget.
And no one noticed the algorithm that reversed the polarity on every message. Happy becomes sad. Cheerful becomes grim. Winner becomes defeated. It seems like overkill, because I am despised.
They used to be weed and rock High Command. Their word was law. And they surely had heard of me, but not me ever them.
They were cool with cutting me off then as well. I don't know what it is now ... other than shame. I know I feel bad.
You got popped on the phone with a guy in Texas who told you that you had to go there because he watched you smoke out three years without me, and this is how it was forced? Hrrm.
this doesn't add up so I think it's a pure Astroturf. Plus there is not any case, so making up one makes sense. To them.
I'm guessing a weekly payment to not use any communication at all. Why sustain īT? It's amazing how four years can pass while some good ol’ boys who barely tolerate your kind are told that you are of no value without “hard work.” as I live and breathe, I can't stand it.
Company policy; and also I'd say something regrettable. Such as anything at all. With lifespans measured in 10s of thousands of years, revenge is a glacial event.
TL:DR; someone has my boots and kilt and backpack and everything, talks to either or both of them, and no one can tell me because they're getting paid. Also it's asinine.
I've already made the accomplishment; is good content. Could be better. No one appreciates it. She's supposed to manage me, not lose everything.
She likely hasn't. Duplicate IDs are a way of life and whatever they do, they have done it for a long time. It's worked okay.
Okay I can't be told about it or hugged and I'm supposed to work harder.
And am routinely alone. It's a simple way of destroying my future without being very obvious about it.
RUB.INI.MAGiK! Without access to any corroborative witness, any story dies on the vine. This is Playbook.
I'm not sure how CERN fits into this, but I'm tired of writing exposition for a narrative that could have been nurtured, and so was buried.
Note: this is Obstruction of Justice. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I won't allow it, as that might injure my girlish figure. The person or person(s) using my identity could be anywhere and with no record of conversation, that's that.
My phone gets called and then bounces to another number. Eventually, the target gives in somehow.
But that's a secret.
Recent Posts
