(PROT- runner): It's great to see you doing so well! I hope (PROT-PrinceULTRA) is prospering as well. I thought you both to be good people; and like all of us, you didn't deserve what happened to you.

I also don't deserve any of the blame for any of it, but... I guess I could be making more of a public display, but amirite? Awww hells no.

This has been, first and foremost, a SPIRITUAL BATTLE IN AN ETERNAL WAR. (Facts.) Now I'm going to make you an offer.

It's a good offer, although it's gonna seem like a truck. I mean, a trick. Which in no case, is a thing a h∞r does for money — at least, as far as I am concerned.

Here is my offer: I'll tell you everything you want to know, and you can tell everyone else. I do NOT need to “spead the word.” I also haven't rolled over. At all.

What I have seen is multiple psyop actors impersonating me. FOR YEARS. Wow. Wow wow. That's so fucked.

In this eschatologically-singed political climate, I am pleased to tell you that it's all good news for Our Team. (Humanity. Not Team Co. Slaves. I'm not touching them.) And, I mean it: I will tell you the whole thing. Later. When it's time.

I am still manifesting the destruction of my enemies — without being at all obvious about have been doing so for this entire time.

I can neither confirm nor deny that I've always been this smooth of an operator, but fortunately I don't have to. People I went to “high” school with are undoubtedly mystified as to what happened to me ... and I guess a few of them are terrified. Scared shirtless, it seems like.

That's too bad. (Looks good to ewe though.) I have no interest in ruling by fear and tyranny; and truthfully I did not wish to be “ruling” at all. I had no idea that all this would develop, after my companion animal was killed, and my lovers’ children were trafficked.

The less said about this, the better. For one thing, in at least one case, it's a strict upgrade, and in all cases, it's better than death. Or prison. Or, both.

People used to think life in prison without the possibility of parole was a better deal than capital punishment. I remember, people used to debate that issue.

Now: after attacking my residential drinking water supply, they're still wanking themselves off. IN MY DRIVEWAY. Da fuq? Four and a half years later. What, no ticker tape parade? No public ceremony where I get the key to the city from the mayor? Pfft. I haven't even met the mayor. After 4½ years. Wew lads.

So, I'll be perfectly understandable here: I'll tell you all the juicy tidbits and then you can share the news with Our Clandestine Partners that are actually, in fact, WORTHY.

I don't want to name any names here, but a lot of people have dropped the ball. I'm not picking it up again. Neither are they.

Because if Humanity can't handle this simple basic issue: ”Don't use vulnerable populations of First Nation indigenous peoples and their women and children to peddle drugs and be forced into chattel slavery as indentured sex slaves,” they can't handle warp drive either.

I'm not sure on how the Big Three (³<3) breakaway civilizations are going to be handled; I am not a representative of The_Quincunx. I don't represent anyone at all. I don't have legal representation. I don't have a family. I don't have any friends who can stand up and claim to be Sparracus.

I am a paladin on a Mission from God. Actual. No one approves. I don't care. Some people have real problems.

I can't explain everything out in the open yet, because it's diplomatically sensitive. Also, people would freak out. For real.

So. That's why I haven't returned to Moon Garden yet. (Or whatever it was called. West of Grand Mound.) Several good reasons, but mostly I'm too embarrassed to tell anyone what has been happening, and what I'm doing about it, isn't quite finished yet.

As a pacifist it is not very flashy vengeance anyway. It is not even vengeful, really. It's not my mission to take out the trash.

It is my privilege. (Hackneyed.) Since there has been no rush to offer me any aid after being ambushed, I am not in any real hurry to ambush anyone back. Would that even be legal? 🤔 Must remember to Google.

I'll tell you anything you want to know when I see you again. Or, you may send an envoy if you are anxious at all. Just give them your real name. 🌟

But: just know that I'm fine. I am glad you are too! Most of us at this level are okay enough. I don't handle the policy. I work with spiritually maladaptive phenomenæ.

Without being at all obvious about it. Yep, it's my job. And Baby: business is booming.

Just ignore the wanna-bes, they're getting handled last because reasons. This all won't end before FEVRURY 2027 and that's a set-in-stone date. I would prefer to have finished up already! HA!

However, I don't make the rules. I serve God. And I am exceedingly good at doing so.

Without being at all obvious about it. Hey, here's an idea: I ought to find me a publicist with a bathtub in her office.

So I can imply that I wish to “make D`ji¡ññ,” lol. I love that joke. I hope I get to tell it a few times before genie wrangling becomes a Federal crime!

Not like it matters. It already is a Galactic one. (Standards.) Bless your crew, and bless your lives. I hope you continue to prosper without me! (Better safety profile for you.)

As God as my witness, I truly believed that people knew that I wrote The Plan. When I was FIFTEEN (15). Time Sperglordz know no shame!

There oughta be a law. (GOD WINS.) That's not a law.


īT just happens. :hug: Namastμ

Hello, Gab-Rabble. Do not mistake my silence and apparent lack of any ambition whatsoever for any indication of any reduction in my potency. I am a Source Titan. You don't have the cognitive capacity to comprehend what I am doing with my time. (Only because I don't allow you to see anything informative. It's not like you're all stupid.)

I'm gonna let you stew in your own sick for a little while longer. You are all obviously well-handled by... someone? Something? Sunshine? I have no f‘kn idea. No one tells me anything, #Officially.

Good. None of you killed my wife. #Officially. Don't worry about it, she killed #mE†00. It's a generational curse, and I'm sure I can take that thing right off of her and her pup/æ\s. Unfortunately... we still can't talk. Cozlik: a condition of Global Shunning still exists — and, WILL PERSIST. What can I say? My hands are tied. It's beyond my control.

I outrank every motherfucking one of them in most media markets that are relevant to my interests, i.e. basically none. Look, just don't sweat it. Jackstar loves you all, and I do as well. (It's a tough, tough love.) I really cannot get into details, but you have my continued assurance that I serve my own interests, my Creator’s hopes, and, my God, O, my God has desires. DESIRES THAT I HAVE SEEN MANIFEST.

It was fuckin’ tasty. NGL. I'll tell you all later. Maybe that coffee table book? I dunno. Are you spooky Clan Dough retard twerps still allowed to have coffee? Not when I'm around, that's for sure, lol. (I would nominate Luke as your new mascot but I don't want to buy myself a trip Downtown for a grilling under the hot lights when your Next Generation starts popping off, AssGab. Btw: you've all been brainwashed by the cult I just annhilated. You're welcome.) As you can imagine, I have lots of news to share.

And you can't have any. You have Chris Wyatt. You have synthetic ÅĪ-powered gatekeeping protocols. You have money on the table. You have big business to run. You have big prizes to win.

You do not have me. •I• have you. (MINE.) Without being at all obvious about it. What I don't have is control of the schedule or The Narrative. I really don't know who does.

I don't give a fuck. I have an actual life, People. And I am exceedingly good at not talking too much about it.

Bellgab, don't go scorched earth on anyone, ever again. You're all either too old and too young, or too cockμ. I suppose it seemed to you all that you had just the right amount of ©o©K :Ë:, eh? Eh? Nope. Not really. Not at all.

I will always be on the side of those who have nothing and who are not even left alone long enough to enjoy what little nothing they have. I named my drone “Zorro.” Not sure I could have made anything any more obvious. Speaking of which: LORD OF THE DEMESNE. (Feels good, not gonna lie.) I need the facility’s documentation and copies of one, both, or all of The Bell Family’s LW&T. Naturally, these documents are not typically made available to the common U.S. Citizen. And for exceptionally good reason.

Nevertheless: I need them. I'm asking here. And if I can't have what all of you had, well, well, well, well, well: I'm not going to fell any lumber to make any papyrus to publish my litany of woe. I don't have a litany.

I have a ŒⓂ️m§æn. (The effect is fully congruent when reversed.) Now, I know that none of you can fulfill my request. #Officially. Cozlik, you're busy with more show prep. For your next exciting episode. N‘est-çe pas? BTW: I arranged to have Heater resurrected. She is one smoking hot sex jaguar — the finest predator known to Man. So next time you want to humiliate somebody on your little radio internet podcast show, start with her helpmate first.

I'll probably want seconds on the salsa. I should bring some Tupperware®™. Salsa wouldn't travel well in a doggie bag. (Neither did Anne Heche.) But I digress.

You've got a few months left, Troopers. I suggest you use them more wiselêíg¡-I than you have been. I am not your enemy. I am not your tormentor. I won't be your new Monarch Controller. And I don't plan to Shuttle Express your flesh to Capitol Hill, where you will be testifying before Congress. Some day.

Remember that I love own you all, Bellgab. Good talk. BE BEST. Adieu.

I'm still recuperating from the non-stop excitement that was my holiday weekend. (Hackneyed.) EMBARGO CONTINUES.

Arrest anybody you want except for mⓂ️E, Jew Colombo.
I would prefer not to. I am that lazy. Someone might bring over a needle. Any minute now. Hang on.


Especially when they are laying in wait for their target, w¡†CÎ-h ¡§ `G¿ë`s§^VVho?

It can be more, Albino Bob Ross. I need a beer coozie to hold my luxury craft cider. Chop-chop, Dingbat Primogen.

As God as my witness, I honestly don't know, can't tell, and/or am entirely indifferent to whether or not Mr. Rense, Mr. Noory, and Ms. S¡v¡Ith–§Ⓜ️솇h–īTZĪ∆Ⓜ️🆎^®🆎μ are aware that I know Who They Really Are when they call, and thus have no idea that while reverse←pranking me they are committing an actual crime; but I truly believe that since I am not in any way interested in reporting any of it at all as a crime, there is no actual reason I need to be kept penniless and fly-blown in a epic-grade-level traphouse of undeniably culpable origins.

Like for reals: any time any of you are ready to be actual professionals and make some real money — obviously you know my number. Have an actual hot dame call me, Boomer Whack-job Try-hards. That gal who was frontin' as Mr. Putin's best Girl Friday wouldn't be a bad start. She seemed legitimately breathless by the end of the call.

If The Kremlin can share her we can be practicing the pantin’ and sweatin' on the scrambled ansible TONIGHT. IN TWO HOURS. It doesn't have to be tonight.

It does have to be soon. And it does have to be real tasty. That being said: nothing is yummier than Geof and Jorj working an angle on me: lil’ Ī<!KeLμ>K⁷u‽Z¡. THESE NIGZ CALL ME. This is max apex win.

This is the roof, Baby. (Remember: you don't have to pick up my dry cleaning or remind them about extra starch in the collars; we have people for that.) 😇BOOM💣BOOM💣BOOM🛡️

I couldn't have done it without μöū. (In most media markets. Actual garotte on Guam.) SIGNED, [DURESS/∆
\ĪⓂ️ī‽-|æ_l🆑iff°®d>K<⁷7©z¡°°⁷]
— Hang on.



Since someone around here has to be The Adult. Adieu.

My hobby is cowboy diplomacy. That's where I tell you all of a sudden that I negotiated a backchannel deal where I don't compete with other Independence Day content and then do mine later. I have my customary 2 hours ready to go, but I've been dragging ass on it and working on other things so as not to upset the balance of power, either locally or internationally, for it is delicate one. (Also I am a dual Galactic/U.S. Citizen; and that notion is wild enough that I don't want to give anybody any ideas on Independence Day. If people want a revolution they can count me out.)

Methinks the pundit doth profess too much.

It can be more, Albino Bob Ross. I need a beer coozie to hold my luxury craft cider. Chop-chop, Dingbat Primogen.

One day we will all look back on this time in herstory and laugh. In the meantime, it's not yet a war crime.

Nyet. I do think that your attitude is in exceptionally poor taste and lacks class, character of demeanor, and I'm general: is beneath you. Note that if you have a gun to the head and are acting against your own interests under duress, you may be entitled to compensation!!

It Is an interesting quirk of civil tort law that without even knowing about it or having any intention to claim them, damages owed to you (for example) can be claimed by another person without you (or someone in your hypothetical situation) even being damaged or in the knowing of having been awarded them, which is not something I plan to do, but it's something I found out can't even happen to my own interests.

Because: my mommy is The Honorable Supreme Grand Arclich Primus Maximus Emeritus, .esQj: and Her Grace is not to be trifled with either. (Facts.)

Her birthday is in four (4) days. I suggest you shape up, sharpshooter shine job lickshin spittlewhiskers. (Your new rap battle name.) IANAL; are you?


Or are you still fully full-on⁰ⁿ0№ⁿz🅾️N relying on my Sekrit 🆑🅰️N∆/Œ>d⭕Ω`j-H`<quasi-proto spouse(s)? I'm not asking for a friend. (Or an audit; I don't even have people for that.) Have a safe and pleasant holiday!

OR ELSE FACE REPRISALS. (Stabnerds.) Namastμ