After allowing me to banish the weakest link (for them), I was then banished myself. Now it would seem--confirmation is a challenge--upon realizing that this has
perhaps lead to some small,
non-trivial amount of security loss--totes--it would appear through the observance of entangled Brownian particles, that the decision has been made to relocate from the place where I was, to a place I know nothing of... but a change in residence has not occurred, so I'm still sitting around studying the profound & immediately recognizable effect the insertion of a few well-written and wisely-chosen wordy-gurdy emails can have on an ongoing situation.
FAG, CUCK, NARCISSIST, LIAR, STALKER, WOMEN ABUSER, RAPIST, PEDOPHILE., KEYLOGGER.. you are ..
BLOCKED 🚫
GO AWAY DINGBAT
See a shrink
Get a life copycat wannabee
#sad
LOL
THE COMMANDER
#RubiniMAGIC
#WINNING
#LEGACY
Went from hot'n'charming to cool'n'aloof after I dumped pages and pages and stories about really cool stuff that I haven't shared with anyone before, anyone at all. Not even out loud. Probably not even talking in my sleep. It's possible he's found one of the Failsafe devices, and if so, would explain the sudden:
INSULTS (all faux)
STOPWORD (probably already lifted if were even placed)
LUCKY CHARM MANTRA (grow up)
Projected advice: #1
Projected advice: #2
Projected self-awareness: #3 (Oh, you thought I was kidding, huh? NINETY DAYS, DUH)
Emulated victory flair: TOTES CONVINCING
SIGNATURE: CAN'T SIGN HOME AGAIN QQ ENGAGE COMPENSATORY REPETIONS MAGICKAL THIN KING
(The condition of the soul without faith is desperation.)
DINGBAT
... and, he doesn't actually know who I am. DID is pretty heavy duty, folks. Did you know, many psychiatric conditions are, in fact, contagious! I mean, he probably learned that from... you know, that one guy who used to... uhm, well, they're a lot alike. I'm not gonna lie. And as I fell out with one, another fell in.
Hopefully, mastermind manipulation of forethought is not quite as contagious as Dissociative Identity Disorder, but to be honest, the best thing I can imagine about not just one, or two, but three of The Slanderettes in a padded room together with pinstripe straitjackets with adorable duckies and bunnies on them, is that no matter what happens, it's all gonna end up in a big group hug.
The rare case when the lack of an invitation is as acceptable as it is lawfully mandated. Speaking of which, I have angered the Gods of Earth Law, and as they are firmly convinced that I am excited to have anything useful to my life happen on any day that I am allowed audience to a judge, but especially a
ladyjudge... they laughed at me and mocked me and pretended I didn't know exactly what they were going to do no matter what I said, since I had decided the day before to not hire any representation at all, at this time, and just ride along with the X-military badass that they forced on me in the first place, made a nice impression and I asked him how I could just pay him, then I never saw him again until days later after I found out how to game the system, so I gamed it, which in this case meant not having any money, requesting a lawyer, then getting a bunch of money deposited, then spending crap tons of it, then getting my next appointment delayed, then spending large sums of money on my (blank), then getting another appointment delayed, then spending everything down so far that I actually get overdrawn (sometimes network servers take a day off, you know?), and then finally discovering that after being bounced around, I'm back with the guy that I liked in the first place, who seems slightly non-plussed, and the reason why is, I accidentally sent one of my signature bomb emails to... uh, the guy above him, because the page is formatted such that JGoodman appeared closest to the name of the gentleman. So I giggled explosively, of course, and sent my life story so far to... uh, the totally wrong lawyer, in charge of a different area of law entirely, which I do not realize until many days later. When I recognize that this has happened quite inadvertently and innocently, I am relieved, because I would imagine that Civil Tort Law has something to do with actual 2-4 unnamed yet fiercely clever full doubloon shitheads trying to steal my goddam house... AGAIN. And I'm reasonably confident that if I were really were pulling all these shenanigans while merely pretending to be innocent, well, it's amazing how people will line up to get a chance at part-time pallbearing rally patrol. Those fuckers who hide money while claiming, "I need a free lawyer! Do this now! I am being oppressed!" Oh, God... I hate that, and I'm not even a lawyer, I just like to have lots of alcohol available.
It's pretty stunning when one sees someone instantly say, "Hey! Can I have your alcohol? I'll pay later! I don't know who I'll pay, that's your relationship, I don't want your business, I just want your alcohol," within 90 seconds of walking in... look, I'm tellin' ya: you probably got a live one.
See, when I write it all down like that, it seems completely insane, right? Nevertheless: every word is fundamentally true, and honestly, have you ever tried to email a lawyer from jail? Believe me, they want you to give up even thinking of doing it, which is a very compelling notion even if only ever done once. However, I haven't given up thinking of linking every single goddam *gab in my email .sig. I mean, all I got is time now, so I might as well spend it... studying thoughts.
Now, while this may seem a lengthy amount of intel for a terminally concluded thread such as this... I can't go home, Rubini can't go to his forum, but I could send The Dragonlord... because even though I instructed The Trustee to evict him, #1) That guy is busy and is quite chagrined that he didn't take my emails fully seriously any sooner; #2) He did live there and his stuff is still there in a trailer in the driveway, so even if there is an eviction notice (I wouldn't know), he can just blow past it, knock on the door if he feels like it (oh he had a key, I don't think I confiscated it because this bear can shit open locks while whittling keys from tree bark; and I don't give a single solitary shit how many times 911 numbers are programmed into the speed dial, if that were the scenario, jawbones would be broken. Call it a hunch. I was always referring to the magickal item fetish known as such--if you weren't so square, you never would have thought I meant punching someone myself, obviously I would never date a female pacifist--but at this time, if I actually summoned him and actually needed help, oh yeah, he'd be on it. He wouldn't care. He already ransacked the first house, let me haul it all down while casing the joint ahead of me, that would be the second house, and if I called and he picked up, it wouldn't be long before he'd be all making jokes about the motel I'm at, because of course after 7 weeks, he's probably a bit miffed I haven't already called him up and invited him to make himself at home. I mean, it's a motel room, of course there are two beds.
I haven't contacted him because I am honestly scared of what that would do to the situation. Already today I've experienced a disturbing amount of instant feedback, simply by casually sending a simple message to spark a conversation that finds me suddenly sharing fine, intricate details of the ongoing Narrative that I suddenly realize... "Wow, I wish someone would have asked me that before, but maybe I wouldn't have had the same context."
For example, when I mention that my last appearance in court mostly consisted of them telling me that they had decided to make me wait another two weeks, I mentioned, "Oh, well, my opinion is you ought to just get rid of the whole thing!!" they of course laughed and mocked and informed me that, oh no, no sir, you will continue to stay alone in that motel and NO CONTACT hopefully anyone until we tell you what is going to happen! Leave the courtroom!"
The judge was selling it. I am pretty sure when I decided out loud that I wasn't going to spend $9,000 on a lawyer that would certainly end up needing to go to trial--and those costs can add up for a variety of reasons an innocent man would likely not know anything about--I am pretty sure that I was not misinterpreted. I think I said something like, "I would rather find 3 homeless men and enhance their penes in exchange for their promise that if it ever became possible to do a four-way with a Court Clerk half an hour before her shift starts, it would be more worth it to me than to just pay one dick who's just going to stand there and flirt with her while my garage slowly rusts. Fuck these people. This is all a slow, tedious, relentless drain on the dough I was going to buy her lingerie with right after she started answering some straight questions for the first goddam time in about a year and a half."
I am not kidding. The money this panic attack + epic timing shitshow has burned through more cash than I had been planning to drop on a goddam hottub outdoors. Couldn't just tell me what the fuck was going on and patiently work together, oh no, I wasn't there when I was expected to be--yeah, I know what that's like--and as I recall, when I got a text asking me where I was, I responded with "call & ask", to which I got, "fuck you."
As it would appear to me now that one person was meant to be whisked away to the windowless dressing room adjacent to the Hall of Justice with a rear entrance to the speedboat dock--seriously, the law administration building? Right on the river. It's that kind of town, I fucking love it--and then another person was meant to be left alone, at "home," Christmas Eve, cleaning up a Garfield nightmare that must have taken someone else easily an entire day... and probably be in the midst of when all of a sudden, surprise!
"Oh hi, are you alone in the home? Hey, is that your furnace grate? Oh, it's The Trusts grate, haha, yeah, well, hey, look at this *click* okay how do you explain this bag with your fingerprints that we have photographic evidence of you demonstrating control over? No, that's not the same picture with an edited timestamp, see, the alligator on the shirt is a different color. *sniff* what's that smell? Are you high, boy? Why else would you be cleaning all day? Okay, fuck this, I'm shutting this down, you're going to the hole."
I am reasonably confident that was considered to be the optimum gameplan for the day, seven weeks ago, when instead of doing the expected, the mundane, the usual when I am not around--what even happens there? I AM NEVER INFORMED OF ANYTHING--I was brought to an awareness of a man who has had enough of pretending a knife-wielding cheerleader with the bends is an actual threat to be dignified with any amount of fear... because it's hard to pretend. Because it's amazing how reflexes work sometimes. So previously, I would just express calm surprise while constantly having a plan ready to halt any inadvertent damage to shoes, pillows, palms of the hands, you know, one time I dropped a knife, and it was a serious blade, and it was more like thrown, and I legit almost drove the blade right into Jewel's belly. It stuck in the mattress about an inch away. She gave zero shits. She knew knives, and she knew they worked mostly on legs. She just thought I was showing off, if she realized I almost accidentally killed her because I am a dumbass, well, fair warning.
Yeah, so, anyway, I didn't do anything unacceptable, I thought, other than, you know, not be a complete idiot like some people have been, but mysteriously, being anointed gives a little bit of an edge when it comes to seeing the danger coming. So I left like I thought I should, I went where I thought I should, because I agreed to, and then I took the long way home, and then I took a nap in front of my old house, and then I couldn't charge my phones they were all dead and I was ready for a nap and a happy talk and then IMMEDIATELY
IMMEDIATELY
it's fuckin' APOCALYPSE NOW.
Still not sure why. Getting a few glimmers. I'm guessing that someone found out something somehow through casual conversation that they weren't too impressed by, because I sure did, but I wasn't ready to fly the Jolly Roger to slit throats just yet, you dig? But someone sure was ready to ruin naptime with a full plane load of shattered glass and ricotta cheese.
And then, I buried the hatchet... after taking it, and that has made all the difference. Jesus! I hope I get to see the crime scene photos soon. It was INSANE. Like, she called the police, then barricaded the door right after making three utterly false statements in rapid succession--as if rehearsed--and then she goes to the other front door, that's marked "PLEASE USE OTHER ENTRANCE."
Now, as an aside, one of the mildly positive aspects of not giving a legal team a $9,000 check--paper, because obviously I would want to photocopy that for use a napkin pattern--is that after they tell you not to run your mouth off in public, if you do, they can't just up and quit on you without a refund. Because that's in the rules. Client too annoying? Evidence includes 82,317 commanding emails? Fuck that, hard pass. Their time is valuable. Yours is irrelevant--they have the money.
On the other hand, the downside is, they get real annoyed, because they then usually have to do more work, for no additional money. Take it or leave it. A public defender is usually there by obligation, all the lawyers chip in to donate hours of their time, because sometimes, sometimes something really interesting is worth the extra look. Just to learn what kind of crazy shitballs people stuff up themselves, you boof?
And you know what? Sometimes a complicated issue can uncover previously undetected fundages, that can often be deemed
surrenderable if it turns out someone was, you know, like, complicit, premeditative,
AN ACCOMPLICE BEFORE OR AFTER THE FACT, wait, is one who is automatically complicit, also an accomplice? Every time?
See, this isn't quite my area--so I will perhaps write a concise, terse, densely useful question on various legal definitions of the terms... and then, oh so casually, just drop a link to this post. "Azzgab"? What's that? And there, right there: that's
The Hook.
Oh, and, by the way... you fuckers are doing this all the time. I bet some of you have those little apps that take URLs and turn them into little invisible .jpgs.
I never had to pay attention to this stuff before, but with
https://rubinigab.com/cgi-sys/suspendedpage.cgi down
immediately after a few phone calls that occurred
immediately after an important sea change occurred... look, as you know, I do not know
everything, but I have been exposed to waaaaay too much... Sunshine.
Who I suspect they actually did put in a bag. Like, that shit happens. I would assume someone is checking on this kind of thing. In fact, I really don't think I need to link any of the gabs myself.
I feel like it's covered.
Semper fip.s.: I got a C&D, however:
it is ill-formed. I imagine I'll get another in about... five
m-SECONDS.
p.p.s.: 20 days remain. LEGALLY THAT IS 2 WEEKS, ROUND IT DOWN, MOTHERFU-*click*
