totesbeyondbusted

[AZZERAE]

hxxps://youtu.be/zOnjxxUxwVE

GAY.

[AZZERAE]

Perhaps all the really hawt intel is found over on Ellgab, where the dear and the cantaloupe play.

REALLY GAY.

[Jackstar]

So anyway, people have beef. Strong beef. [...] You had your chance to get close to me with bullets. Now, you're gonna have to use your (blank). Inorite.

As a courtesy to those Netizens of a more honest stripe, I have voluntarily chosen to cease a great deal of the documentation of the NEFARIOUS, MALICIOUS, RACE-RELATED BOWDLERIZED BULLSHIT that I see routinely these days, as I navigate certain, select few conversations that I am so graciously allowed to still participate in these days. (What took you so long? Oh, right: you don't pretend to be my friend without a paycheck, and none of you ever actually learned how to be a friend--or if you did, the ability was burned out of you during the electroconvulsive therapy. Sad!!) And there are no forums that like me, none that want me, and since I haven't sucked any cocks yet, gayforum.org is closed to me. Such a pity. All those massive dynamic rolleyes, going to waste. What do they call the twerp over there that pretends to be me, anyway? Dubbstarrrrrrr? Cool name, especially if they have a little parrot for forum flair.

So you haven't seen it, because I haven't been writing--much--about the truly ridiculous technological discoveries that I continue to sporadically and spontaneously reverse-engineer the practical workings thereof. (I heard Bob Lazar figured out how to make The Montauk Chair do DP when a female Federal judge sits in it, if she's not too whorish-looking. Kudos.) This was not done in order to save up several depots' worth of ammunition--quite bomb ammo--for future use. No, it was mostly just because I was lazy and don't want to work.

*polite* bullshit COUGH.

Let me put it this way: I wish to avoid a scorched earth Total War defensive position, because I simply don't have any objectives, personally, that would benefit from that. I am largely Neutral.

HOWEVER. What I am seeing happen is a flat-out ABOMINATION. This is not what ought to be happening. This is an End Times Apocalypse, this is not Sweet Valley High. This is not Sally Jessy Raphael.

THIS IS NOT DONAHUE. *sniffle* I miss him. But I'm not going to participate in certain, select levels of depravity. Be Nice.

But not French nice. I certainly won't be. I think some of you have gotten the wrong idea, Punylings.
HO HO HO. YOU ARE MY PLAYTHINGS.

God's children are not. RECONCILE.

[Jackstar]

GAY.

REALLY GAY.

bye bi bitch, hello Sunshine: WELCOME TO THE THUNDERPLEASURE DILLED DOME. (Rebrand pending focus group returns.)



I just can't put this any more clearly: I AM NOT ABOUT TO BE LEAD AROUND BY THE NOSE OVER THE FUCKING PHONE, YOU SELFISH PIG-HEADED PHREAK-FREAKS. All of you shit bags are on the hook for untold numbers of crimes, and you're all sitting around hiding behind my Shield of Assault IV exoneration; after which I would imagine quite a few people are planned to be rounded up. Or whatever you :cube: ick ule Ole! fools do. Honestly, this is all totestupid.

Which is awesome. For most of us. For me: I SLEEP ALONE AND TRY TO WEEP. Or maybe I have that the other way around? Whatevah. The point is that I am sick to fucking death of the whole goddam thing, which puts me nicely position and aimed at a future of: I WON'T GIVE A SHIT IF I EVER HAVE SEX AGAIN AND YOU CAN PUT ALL OF THEM IN A TINDER BOX AND LIGHT A CANDLE FOR ALL I WILL GIVE A SHIT.

It's probably won't get that bad, but I just got off the phone with someone pretending to have the capacity for human emotion who was surprised to discover that *gasp!* I WAS NOT KIDDING: I WILL SPEAK TO THE SHAW WOMAN BEFORE CERTAIN SELECT DECISIONS ARE MADE.

POINT BLANK PERIOD. I don't even know if she's still alive. Has she been rescued? Did she need to be? Do I even care? Obviously, the answers there are all yes.

Did she want to throw her own ass into a woodchipper? I dunno. However, just as I laughed openly at the half-dozen clandos who kept assuring me that I should be pissed at the woman who was left behind after Christmas Eve 2021, I am not, and I still have no fucking clue what happened on a number of points.

AND I HAVE THE RIGHT AND NEED TO KNOW. And you fuckers, you know tons of intel on that. And more. Do you share it with me? Aww hell no.

IDGAF if I end up pulling it out from under your fucking fingernails, Bellgab, mark my words: I WILL FIND OUT WHAT I NEED TO KNOW.

AND I CHOOSE TO FIND OUT FIRST BEFORE FUCKING AROUND. How is this hard for you twerps to understand? Oh, right, because you all depend on my ignorance and her vulnerability to even come close to gettting your obscene plot to fuck everything up and steal everything that's left from me, and her, and everyone else, it's all one big black box game to you Tavistock chucklefuckleheads, isn't it?

Too fucking bad. Pick a warfighting strategy that doesn't revolve around deliberately torturing the civilian population for your advances towards "victory"--although, since you're trying to steal everything I ever had and everything I ever had, one wonders why anyone would be as patient, tolerant, and mindful of the laws of Space and Tyme as I have been.

The answer is: the U.S. Constitution is that powerful. Your fiendish schemes will never prosper. NEVER! And I won't have to compromise my values or my dignity or the security of my country in order to assure that.

My sex life has gone right into the shitter, however, but so what? I'm not a sex addict, shrug. Let's see how well you assholes do with a five-year-mission into The Land of No Human Contact, I bet you couldn't go ten fucking minutes without looking to score with a fresh hottie, and you think I'm staying at home alone surrounded by garbage because I'm afraid of girls.

Nope. It's because no one can believe that I can keep my hands to myself, and so... hotties do not stick around, I can assure you, unless they are being paid to. And, they aren't.

Unless it's to make a Federal case out of me. Now, as I would like to see myself forming healthy, social relationships, both of the sexy and non-sexy kind, here's what's going to happen:

YOU are going stop your unlawful corruption of Justice and your flagrant abuses of Power are going to come to a swift and screeching halt. Mark my words, twerps, because this isn't about my maybe-non-existent wife/spouse:


THIS IS ABOUT NERDS, SQUAW. (Since none of you know who she is either, it's not terribly offensive... nor is it a contact violation, since it makes her pretty fucking happy to be acknowledged by name. Her name. Part of the penance. Council's idea. A pretty good one, too, especially compared to giving a sock to a knobby elf.) THERE, LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO. SHE WAS HAPPY, THEN SHE HAD TO SQUINT. FU, FEDGAB.

Basically none of you know a fuckin' thing about what all of this has been about. Good. Don't forget that.

FAGS FEAR THE LORD;
GAYS HOLD THE POWER.





(Somebody wake up Hicks and tell him to put Q back to sleep. SLEEP, motherfucker, have you heard of it? Pfft.)

[Jackstar]

bye bi bitch, hello Sunshine: WELCOME TO THE THUNDERPLEASURE DILLED DOME. (Rebrand pending focus group returns.)

* Jackstar could post a URL right [HERE] and annihilate your Puny {r}ealm.

Let me @ him. Project °ⁿ🕳️’d.←∅•

[Jackstar]

https://nextdoor.com/p/nyZzT_KLp8nr?utm_source=share&extras=ODAxNjkwOTM%3D&utm_campaign=1727547590631

Break a leg.end•

[Jackstar]

Tamara, you and Joe are retards on a full-on methamphetamine relapse cycle. You don't know who you are; you don't know who you were; you know enough to know that what I'm writing doesn't sound like it's very accurate; and the people who are paying you to believe that M. Kuczi is a dangerous asshole who won't shut up are the exact same people who trafficked and brainwashed you into whatever it is that you are doing with your time. Or, you're Jess. I'm not really sure how this all fits together, and I don't really need to try to be sure.

It's not the crime. It's the cover up.

Now, since I'm not interested in breaking the law or destroying innocent lives or experimenting on batshit crazy Mk-ULTRActives in order to find out what combination of illicit drugs and my blood/semen/pubic hairs will fix this lolcow’s brain, I'm basically not doing anything here that you could possibly imagine, because in your experience, you have certainly never met a man who was effective, and effective at ignoring your RapeMagic™.

You want drugs to have sex and need sex to procure drugs. I don't want anything at all.

We were the same. And then two roads divirged in the woods, and I took the one you left for me. I don't know what you took.

I simply know that you took everything with everyone else, and IDGAF if you think you control my life. You do not; and whatever you don't want me to do, I want 50 lb sacks of it delivered to my front door on the goddam daily. BECAUSE REASONS.

We all make mistakes. Mistakes are how we learn. And now, your time traveling father is pouring clonzopene down your little sister’s throat, because he thinks that she's your clone, and if I wake her up with my dick on drugs... you won't be the same when he goes to sleep and immediately wakes up 5 minutes into the future,

in another state, in another body, living with the two women who are actually one time-split clone, because Michael Deacon paid good money to take his favorite victims into a stasis bubble and alternately rape them to death and have them reborn, over and over, I don't know exactly how he has that set up, but... obviously he has significant leverage over Dennis. Who is, of course, completely trapped in this scenario, and thinks that my presence here is a major threat to this arrangement.

It really is not. This is all a limited time event, because it cannot last forever. And it won't. Basically, as soon as possible, everyone will be killed and relocated with new identities, new backstories, and new husbands that bought them... and it still won't last forever.

Because I am alive.
Because, people know.

And because no one is born wanting to scissor every man’s jugular and auto-hate every penis. That kind of thinking has to be cultivated.


Grooming. You are groomed to be naive, inexperienced, and readily replaceable after any reason arises to reset/rebirth/resurrect the primary, which may actually be you. I don't know this technology works, because no one tells me anything.

After all, I am just a needle junkie. Right? Oh, wait. I'm not.

I am a paladin and I am living proof of God’s love for Her children.

There are special consequences for lying to Clergy. Here's what you get this time: frankly, Kumquat, IDGAF what you do, but the reason why you couldn't steal my baby batter and then defraud the public by exploiting time travel is that, number one, you try it and your husband/father/pimp murders you, no >Kudos but I can see how that would be the obvious option to take, and, number two: I don't like to be guilty of TIME FRAUD. Seriously, Kiwi-breath: there are rules.

I don't break or enforce or follow them.

I don't obey them.

I obey G-d. Since I had exactly zero friends, both before and after your brilliant strategem was executed, I have had no one else to listen to. (Jesus is a huge pussy and He admits it. No shame in it; Christianity does nothing for anyone who doesn't want to be hung from a tree after rebelling against fractional reserve banking; and Judaism is okay, I guess, if someone doesn't have a soul, likes to mock the Christ, and can't figure out how to achieve ecstatic union with The Divine Creator without a dreidel and an immunity to smegⓂ️🅰️. (Most people do not know what that is. I do not think most people want to know at all.) Incidentally, my mother’s secret plan worked perfectly, in that, I'm immune to herpes. It just falls off if I am exposed, if it even gets a toehold. She never told me; I wasn't sure what had happened at all until later; and because your mewling coterie of rapefuck methfaggotz, all named Jason B., lol, there were four of them, lol, what an adorable coinky-dink.

No one ever bothers to talk to me until your spouse’s botfleet sends out dronelings to gather intel. I don't know who you are, I don't know where you are, but I know that you're rich as fuck and you're told that somebody with my name is stalking you because they work for your creepy fuck husband who keeps you under control and that that oh wait that's different script.

Enjoy college. You must be really good at it by now. And you've been trafficked and to believing that the person who is your friend is a huge threat and you live with a huge threat and you don't have any idea what to do about it or even know that it's happening. Although I just told you, so who knows. Maybe tomorrow you'll meet a falafel vendor who will really change your world.

Whatever. Thanks for your help, I'm sure you've done a lot for me and have never been able to tell me and pray that it hasn't gone to waste and I'm not just some stupid needle junkie. Yeah don't worry I drink a lot of craft beer too.

And if you thought I was going to become somebody who made a lot of money that you could hide your money in and cuz you're just tax base too well. I probably shouldn't have been treated like shit by your asshole friends and completely left alone. Fucked off to die over and over and over because it doesn't really work, it doesn't punish me, and now that I know what's going on, it's actually kind of flattering. Very romantic really.


You're a 19-year-old time traveler who repeatedly comes back to Earth in new bodies with magical technologies from another planet, an extraordinarily powerful Uber Jew as your husband, spouse and pimp.

I was 15 and 1/2 and you were on drugs and telepathy come added me to hurry up and rape you. Fuck okay, well I'm still hurrying. Maybe I'll hurry up a little hurrier in the morning after. I've had some more beer and some more drugs, but I can assure you even if I were to do that.. You wouldn't like it and you don't seem to like it very much when anybody else does it to you.

You may not have thought all this through. They actually came into the house and they stole all the letters that were written by you and your committee, and they took the birthday card that had the very intricately spelled out names of births that you were going to use to manipulate the stock market after traveling through time, and somebody tried to do it and then that didn't work because it doesn't work because it's stealing and it's wrong.


So I wouldn't have fallen for that anyway so I don't know what your surprise was. But yeah I'm just sitting here and I have nothing going on and people are trying to kill me and nothing is working and the story is coming out. (BIGGER THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE.) I have a reason to be quiet about it because they're going to kill you anyway — your handler likes you kept as young and as dumb as possible since you get raped to death every other night and are reborn as your own mother the next morning (Hail S∆T∆N! Are you and The Dark Lord compensating for something? You have the demeanor, and surely the shoes), and I don't get to contact anyone who knows you, and I don't see anybody at all if I can possibly avoid it (anyone I like will just be removed as soon as that authentic bond is detected by observers, and I know that sounds paranoid. It's not) and they don't pay me (rumor has it that my content generates $25,000 a month for these morons as well as I don't know how many women that they answer the phone for and pretend to be me and then go rape to death, and I know this sounds like lunacy, but we're talking about high-level Satanic radio industry veterans, they will do anything for more clout) and they just call me a nigger (because doing that worked so well for you) while screaming at me to get a job. (I have my ways of stimulating the economy, and unfortunately, none of them involved tracking these idiots down and letting you strangle them to death with your thighs while I leave to go get a lead on the next one, since I wouldn't bother to see that, how interesting could it be? I don't need to know what you look like, and you don't need me for anything at all. That's why you pay so little attention to me and are so concerned that I'm stalking you. _l_o_l_) This is what eugenicists actually believe.


Because they've been trafficked and brainwashed into being good goyim slaves. (It's not complicated. Love God.) Now I know what you're thinking, this all sounds better than sucking. Michael koozie dick. And you're right, because I still don't want it sucked. (I have no urge to convince anyone, and no one has any urge to convince me.) No one bothers; no one tries; and I'm fucking sick to death of fucking after trying to find out what the fuck somebody has to be told to remember that sex is extremely fun. Especially with me. For everyone, except for anyone who thinks it to be some kind of chore of emotional labor to pretend to be attracted to someone. Anyone attracted to me doesn't stay that way long, as if they do, they will be simply trafficked away and convinced that I am not a good choice for them, somehow. Because nobody talks to me without an agenda and nobody talks to me without knowing who I am, and if they don't know who I am, they find out fast enough, and if I get along with them at all, within 24 hours they've been targeted by space pirates who replace them with a robot with no human emotions. (Some idiot with a lot of money thinks that I killed his wife, I didn't kill his wife, he killed his own wife, wow, time travelers are stupid. In any event, I figured out why none of my relationships work: they're not supposed to. I'm supposed to be with somebody special. And you thought that that was you and you said this without needing to explain why you didn't just jump on me and rip my pants off, it's because you didn't want that effectively. You wanted me to be the person that you blamed for being raped and sued for 18 years of child support later, you know it's amazing how you didn't recognize this at the time, but if you wanted to, why didn't you? That's because you didn't want to. You wanted me to be used at the time of your choosing for part of this huge op. I will admit that it's very impressive.

Now imagine if it had been effective at anything even remotely sexual. It's too bad you can't find the person who you did have a a telepathic conversation with who you thought was me who told you that they weren't going to do what you thought I did, but what happened was that the person trafficking you pretended to be me and somehow I was able to change telepathic connections, and you blamed me for something that someone else did. And you never bother to notice that you were blaming the wrong person and you're being a real asshole about it and I guess you thought I would never figure it out? Well, I'm sure no one else would ever figure it out, but now they don't have to, they can just read this website. Huzzah!

Was for some reason I was supposed to commit felony obstruction of justice and failed to tell anybody what I know? I just figured this out, why not tell you right now? Do you think I'm embarrassed? I am far from embarrassed. I am awesome. I don't think you're embarrassed. I think you're alive. This is significantly better than any amount of embarrassments, although I'm sure you have no idea how accurate that statement is. Trust me, you're better off alive. I don't even know where you are. I'm sure you're having a great time. You do not wish I was there. You do not have a cigar.

You do not have any understanding about how multidimensional phasic reality works, nor about how the stock market is. Not really a good target for time traveling ripoff artists. I know it seems like you can commit crimes and then get away with them by simply moving to another dimension, but the simple fact is that life doesn't work that way. And believe me, I don't work that way either.

So good job leaving me alone to die, oh by the way, I don't know who did this to you, but it sure as shit wasn't me. And now that I found out, instead of ruining your life, I'm just telling you all about it.

You'd probably prefer to be raped to death, but I would prefer not to, and knowing exactly what happens when I was left alone to die without being told the truth, I see no reason to repeat the experience for anyone else.

Also, I want Michael Deacon to swallow his tongue. A full-on grand mal epileptic seizure. Why prevent īT?

Frankly, my dear; I have nothing better to do. Au revoir.