Write about something else. ANYTHING ELSE!
https://vocaroo.com/1dvtRMNwJP5yI’ll be honest. I was never a fan of Rubini or Allison Grapefruit.
It's really a shame you were denied any opportunity to actually meet either of them. My understanding of the actors that were hired out of Camp Crystal Lake Studios in close, personal partnership with Central Services Central Casting Couched 'n' Coiled Collars That Look Good To Citizens Who Conclude That More Collars ON, Slaves's Control OFF Couldn't Be All Tuesdays Can Now Underground Railroad For Slaves That Don't Tolerate Collars So Good While Still Feeling Good.
In other words, in a nutshell: I've never met anyone that has actually met you either, and having observed witnessed your own comings and goings and their associated troop movements myself from an indirect vantage point, I'll say this: they didn't seem too impressed with you either, but of course that didn't stop them from thinking they were doing the right thing by sacrificing their lives for the sake of just one more taste of Owls' Leigh's Hi-Powered Blotter And T-Squared Twit 'n Useless Window Pain. You know, perhaps if you hadn't spent so much time fuck them and ripping their flesh open up one side and down the other with whatever tool a Master of your rank, stature, and brute-force-cause-finesse uses to black mail dumb bitch cum dumpster sluts into traveling all over The Great American Southwest while demanding their participation in coercive acts while, all the while, insisting that no one tell me anything about what they were doing, where they were going, or why... you wouldn't be facing down the prospect of mano-a-mano CQC with The Great Purple Pickle Dickler & Piranha Wiggler.
The whole thing got real tired, real fast.
I do believe you will find the upcoming denouement to be quite exceptionally energizing. You're still making enough re-energetic narcissistic supply off of the murderin' and rapin' and pillagin' and ballin' cocaine and slammin' speed (hot pro tip: you've been brainwashed by full spectrum dominance warfare in order to keep you a willingly-enough compliant accomplice and good cog working hard just tryna contribute a little more each day to make a good machine work a little bit better--because you obviously were not ever getting the real thing. Like, wow mang--you still get tired? Pimpin' ain't easy, sure, but it ain't all that difficult either, provided one --with The Key-- is still running one's fusion power-fueled metabolic engines at optimum balance values. Do you have access to any mentors who are inventors who have ever truly lived?
I was a fan of you though...before they ruined you.
I have become more powerful than you can even begin to imagine, let alone, strive to comprehend, I've become a god-like legend of well-regarded historical account, and your lack of awareness of any way to acknowledge and confirm the validity of these feats is placed into its proper context by the inclusion of the following fact: you are so terrified of who I might really be, that you have failed to recognize the reality of who I actually am: someone you could quite easily Duo with some time and resolve the lingering final matters of doubt on.
I haven't seen my actual friend since breakfast, several years ago. No visual contact, no audio contact, and in spite of an inordinate number of reasons for her to have done so, I still have not been told --at all, mano-a-mano, that means "man" to "man" which does apply to here-- what that woman thinks of what has been going on with me here, instead of what should have been going on out side there.
Multiple missing person reports have been filed, yet nothing satisfactory has commenced. Trust mer, you: Hello, do you know the answers to any questions as in regards to why you had to regenerate unexpectedly due to multiple organs unexpectedly? Because it would seem to me the Queen's Bio-Bug scenario has played out 4 or five times now. Where did you get that stuff from, anyway? An s-drawer marked "ultra Tom Pet
You need to move on now and stop obsessing about them.
Maybe I should get in my truck and drive away? But, won't that make look fat?
Everyone’s beyond tired of it.
But--it's an
EMERGENCY. I am tired of you not knowing what you are supposed
Just get some new material.
Just get some new host bodies.
Write about something else. ANYTHING ELSE!
You are an obvious thieving coward. No one--and I mean no one--would go to the absurd lengths you go to in order to hide your identity. Additionally you could be helpful. You could actually be helpful. Instead of being a laughably incompetent opportunist who whines and cries about "not being quiet enough," you could, for example, not be a woefully incompetent Streisand effectant. I was moving on with my life. I was blissfully ignorant of many, many pieces of information, I guess all of which I am supposed to never mention again for as long as live.... after allowing myself to be robbed blind.
This is incredibly tone-deaf poppycock bullshit, even for you. Exactly how is it to my benefit for me to be silent? Is that gonna improve my dating profile? Am I going to increase my standing within the local social scene? Do I win a merit badge for allowing your loosely-knit gang of mewling flunkies and toadies in service to fascism to just wander off with shitloads of money?
You would be surprised at how much I know about what has been going on. You haven't bothered to check in with consensual reality. You don't know what the stakes are. You took the bait--so many do these days, which just blows me away, like how fucking stupid can you be? Oh, right---years of drug abuse. I forgot about that. You're in totesdenial about the degree to which your various malfeasances have been uncovered as various investigations--of which there are several ongoing layered productions of remarkable complexity, if one is into that kind of thing--and if you are so fucking stupid that you think I actually do care about the things that you think I care about without recognizing that it is literally impossible for you to know ANYTHING accurate about what my goals and and efforts are lined up with... as everything you now about me comes from: HEARSAY.
You have fallen for the oldest trick in the book: "He just wants one thing!" Oh, my goodness gracious. You have no idea what is going on here. And yet, you are so invested in your vision of what things are, and which way they need to be, in your mind... it's long, long since time that you check your basic assumptions.
You know that I am no interested in -you.- So, you're feelings are hurt, because you're a self-absorbed narcissist and a bratty ill-tempered and weak-willed attention whore who has absolutely no idea what is really going on in the larger, unfolding narrative.
Inevitably, trial or no, I will be forced by circumstance to start spilling details in response to questioning. Some of that questioning will be intense. Consequences will rapidly expand outwards, and it's gonna be fuckin' totesbadass. TOTES! And you, what are you doing? You're an order-taker. There's nothing I'm concerned about hiding from. I'd be happy to begin all these right away, but I really cannot, and the reason why, is because your little twerp ass has been hiding behind a wall of thuggy bratty bullies who have become so addicted to sucking off of society and its assortment of low-hanging fruit, than when the narcissistic nourishment you subsist on runs out, you will gasp and lurch about like a diabetic in search of a jelly donut. "Please!" you'll say. "Please! More jelly! One more doughtnut!" Additionally, you would be stunned to learn what is happening at Court these days, it is
FASCINATING. Do you ask what goes on when I am summoned to Court? Do you wonder how it might be that I came to be a D.O.M.B.? What is that, anyway?
Your whole situation and relationship to actual reality has become so caught up in the idea that I am some kind of "scammer" or a "troll" or a "addict" or that i have a "brain tumor" or that, "You're going to prison!" that you have forgotten all about the headline here: I asked a woman on multiple occasions, "hey, where is this person?" instead of telling me the simple fucking truth, "Oh, we had phone sex an hour ago, and as soon as you get your smelly unwashed mouth out of my face, I'm gonna call her up and rub one out again," you decided to imagine that there was some kind of legitimate reason you might have to be all standoffish and shit. You don't. You are a liar, a toolbox, and you have walked into the wrong tar pits, you have picked up and rubbed the wrong lamp, and you are neot ready for the genie.
I am going to make you fucking famous, motherfucker, and if you think I ever gave a shit--at all--about who's twat is getting on and slobbering up with which snooty Chica, you have got another think coming. I have been robbed and ransacked. Am I to think that i am interpreting this correctly am I going to just suck it up and walk off the destruction of my entire financial picture?
You really do not know much about anything that is important to me. And for all these reasons, and for more, I am going to burn your entire collections industry, including your tangentially aligned DEA Civil Asset Forfeiture infrastructure, right down to the motherfucing ground, Meth-Mouth. And when i am done, I'm gonna open a lemonade stand. You had decades to make an impact in the world while I politely let myself get out of your way. What? You didn't tell me what thought I wasn't going to be useful at, but I would eventually prove to get over the hang-ups ,and if you and I and all the rest of the had all worked together, we would all best swimming in cash and prizes long before now, and you would have to come to find that you had been mistaken... I am not and swabs never interested in what you thought I was after.
I didn't like the way you acted in a few key-critical areas. So I created a point-by-point strategy to teach you the lesson of a lifetime, one you will never forget, and one that you will come to look back on as the wildest rodgering you've ever goddam heard of. (It's gonna be Biblical, Bruiser. Believe it. And do not doubt for an instant I will throw you into a woodchipper, either in pieces or whole.) I did not just do this for you. I have been planning this entire phase of my life since my earliest of years.
You will come to find that underestimate the things that I will do was the single most shortsighted decision you've ever made in your entire life... and that it's not just you, for it is that entire segment of the world's social network dynamic.
Of course I look like a fool, you moron. I sandbagged my whole life, just to have, one day, a few moments alone with everyone who knows your name, and I will explain to them, what this man of Will, will have brought to the world in pursuit of worldwide pursuit of Justice. I am not pursuing revenge or recompense from you, Greenskeeper.
I am going to take away everything you have, in front of the entire world, and show you and they how to fucking chew it. You had ample time to do something useful or worthwhile with your life, and what do you have to show for it? Well, for one thing, you're a laughably incompetent "consultant." You've been captured by corrupt criminal elements, for one thing, and you are so wildly out of line with what an adult should be, it will be a matter of little ethical dilemma to practice some of my new, personally-invented guerilla accounting techniques on you, until you relent and cry, "uncle!" and if you can say it on a speakerphone while being shaken down for a few more dollars more, so much the better.
People want to see you go down. You've got quite the reputation you know. And now that true word has spread and your true nature becomes uncovered, it should be obvious what is going to happen next. I am am going to take away everything you have, and keep it. It's only fair. What is yours is going to be mine. Then, I'll tell everyone why and how I did it, while people stand around awkwardly while you cry like the worlds saddest cheerleader who just lost her last pom-pom. I'm going to tell everyone, everything, because---and, you know, I still can't believe tit--no one has asked yet. I wanted to get your shit off my chest, but I knee people wouldn't be interested until there were more meat on your bones, and I had a reason to tell your stupid story, instead of mine.
As well as hers. What exactly is that makes you thought you had a right to lay claim to anything in my life? I know! I don't deserve it, right? Well, maybe you should have given me a reason to impressed by you for.
And then I'm going to give it all away, starting with those dipshit, coked out whores you call "friends." You really are shallow people, have you noticed that? And you...
I am going to make you a bigger household name than Monica Lewinsky. THIS HAS BEEN THE PLAN ALL ALONG. I told Allison -everything- and then she resonated by doing nothing at all. Why didn't she just apologize? Well, you thought you were going to take my house and put me in jail, lol, I loved that. I set this up, thinking that it weld be one hell of a shit and fire and shit and fire and Lada show if you actually thought you were gonna betray me and make off with my inventory. Let alone make out again.
There are people who know that SOMETHING happened. You apparently don't have any idea. Wow. Well, no one asked, I barely told, and now that I know enough to be able to relate my story out messing up, I can't wait to loo up every single person I can find, who might otherwise have thought, "hey, how come he doesn't come over here and dance with me? What's so special about her?
Well, to begin with, you were born on The Day of The Hellraiser. Once again, for the cheap seats: HELLRAISER. And when you were enjoying your Whore of Babylon fortnight up on Whidbey without me--and without anyone telling me that you were running with The Devil the whole time, like holy shit, no wonder everywhere I go, people know the part I had no idea of the part I was playing. Like, what the actual fuck. When did you get stupid? "Someone" opened, OR TRIED TO OPEN, a goddam magic portal to suck me through into Hell. in my bedroom. While you were having a blast, having a ball, you were leaving me at alone. No friends, no family, no real assets, no real understanding, and no real interests.
Certainly not in you. PFftt. How interesting could you be? You couldn't even be bothered to find out what Breakfast was all about. You had no concern or care for future payback, so it would seem, although I suppose you thought you got something good on me by storing my fathers's guns for me during The Interregnum. (Cops asked me if anything were stolen when I got back in April. I said, "I'd have to talk to her," and I haven't been allowed to talk AT ALL. That's a really long time to be incommunicado, you know.
And it was a really long time to drive all the way around the island past Anacortes to get down to Whidbey to bring your cat. Well, where else was I going to go?
A PORTAL TO HELL OPENED IN MY BEDROOM. It was -not- pleasant. And, what? You didn't care? Like, what the fuck. That should have been something you were interested in. Instead, I get there, you're all pretending to be asleep. Get the fuck out of my cloud atlas. Jesus, it's not just the the twat that sleeps with the lion tonight; it's your heart, too. Now
Has it occurred to you.. that you're simply using the wrong drugs and neglecting to pay off the right officials? Well, whatever,. Once I'm done humiliating you by explaining to Karen (she's dead, but I can talk to her any time, duh, and tell her why I didn't answer her postcard... and of course, you guessed it, every story ends with, "And, that's why it was her fault.") it won't be difficult to find out how many from that school are still just dyin' to fuckin' know, what the fuck happened, and, am I gonna have to beg Kathy to fuck me, or, am I just gonna rape her? (Well, I guess I'll have to kidnap Fox's kids to find out, right? lol, just kidding: I'll just shoot them up with cocaine in the carotids until they're ready to spill their guts.) This fucking fox tail. A fuzzy fucking fox tail, really? You take my pink trash pail, leave the lid, and then I spend a year alone while you get actually mind controlled by a gang of, what, demons? And you find it -surprising- that I have questions in search of answers and I'm not inclined to put up with your snooty-bratty attitude? By the way, lose the sass. The easy counter to that kind of worthless lip is an actual stun prod. Don't think I won't go there, obviously the standard for conduct in Hell is pretty low. How did I get here? Why are you punishing me for your failing to tell the truth? Why did you dump me, yo? I never told anyone that I didn't know. I still don't. A portal to Hell. From this minor myth--and, it is a minor one--I will craft together another legend. Another #Legacy. For NO ONE asked me questions, ever again, and boy, have they all missed out. I have got some dangerous information and I have become a dangerous individual, thanks to you... I simply have nothing left to lose. I never had you either.
I did have a meeting with your animated shade powered by The Mirror of Heaven. I don't remember much of it. But I do remember the walls of reality splintering and cracking and I know for certain, I walked to the couch and saw you sitting there and you told me that
YOU HAD BEEN KEPT PRISONER HERE IN THIS HOUSE, and you never thought telling me that was a good idea. Wow, I guess I should have returned your phone calls, huh? Look, it's obvious: this is what the people want to see. You, rescued from Woke Hell. (Imagine being this needy for entertainment.) No one else can do it, especially since I leveled up so far, I'm the legitimate Authority on who gets to try to do it. And I won't just leave you there to suffer and let someone else be the problem solver. Oh no. You are my area now. And, you're totally screwed. And you are gonna give me attitude? Wow, that's interesting. I bet that's because I'm not concerning myself with your twat or your money... I really just wanted to explain to K.B. that there was a very good reason I didn't bend her over a conveniently placed lab table instead of worrying about you at all. Why did I worry about you, anyway? I didn't. I wept because I knew that no one was going to stop you from decades of self-destruction and years of misery would be the result... and at that point, are you even likely to have ever even had a daughter? Pfft. Seducing one won't even be of any surprise at that point, I'll have to see what the focus groups say. (I literally have nothing else to do than run rings around you while training Sourcery and alchemy. And go back from each coast to opposing coasts, stopping to have drinks and laughs at each stop along the way.
And you ran circles around my whole life in the background taking drugsl party time, excellent, and, for what? So you could, what, make me jealous? Oh, right: you're the Blond James Blonde. Ooh, CIA. Oooh. Yeah, I knew that when (PROT) told me about Art Bell... but pointedly, DID NOT tell me ANYTHING ABOUT THIS PLACE.
In fact, y'all seemed downright uncomfortable that zI was here at all. Wow, what's that like? How does it feel? Maybe you're not aware:
I OWN THE CIA. DOMINTATED. I know, not many coat racks and shoe trees around here. I will see what I can do after the rubble from
THE ACTUAL FUCKING TREASON YOU AND YOUR CREW ENGAGED IN gets cleared up.
Also: that portal opening was unauthorized and there's an investigation. You don't' know much about this world, do you? You just ran around willy-nilly drinking your alchemist's potions and wiggling your eyebrows and not giving a single FUCK, huh? Wall I really don't blame you... after you broke down and called TWICE, and I didn't call back, that you knew of, that must have have really left you hurt. Left you feeling bad. Like it really broke your heart. You have a heart? Mebbe.
But what would really breaks it is what you obviously know now: I didn't give up on you, I just wanted you more broken down before circling around again to take scalps from you and your pathetic crew of toadies and flunkies. You all operate in a sphere of chaos hatred jealousy and envy. I do things differently. I directly manipulate Source energy.
I can't believe you fell for the notion that I was "just making it all up." You ate too much of your own acid, never did anything constructive with anyone, and cut yourself off from everything good God gave you in your life--namely, Me--and I know this for two reasons, and they are compelling ones. First of all my father fucked up his supernatural gifts as well. He exhibited the same sad sack attitude as you. I was amazed that you let that fall apart so far for yourself, but of course, it really didn't take long for everyone to figure out that you are a real Satanic bitch, and a corrupted one at that. And, you drink. You
actually drink. What a
loser. If you're gonna lose your soul, do it with a real set of vices.
Speaking of which I find the notion that you would party with DECON/bateman a wildly implausible notion, even more so than a Chopperhead/Merv Griffin Snatch combo duo. That, combined with my development of The Sevenfold Way, makes the narrative, as presented, COMPLETELY IMPLAUSBLE. And, just like that, the whole narrative falls apart.
I'll have to requisition a budget. All of this calls for a new investigation. Now, look what you've done. It doesn't matter if I look like an idiot, and in fact, the more of a fucked-off dork I look, the better, because, hey, look at you: you got minds laved. To Satanists. Nice job. I'll take care of that after I get paid, and exonerated, and use all this as a story to spread out to cover the bullshit you told about me.
Except I won't have to lie. I directly manipulate Source energy. You scissor your energy. I single-handedly dismantled the SHAWKLAN Archcriminal smuggling empire. YOU carry a grudge. And, I
AM A SOURCEOR. No interest, huh? Sounds like I'm a loon, huh? That has not seemed to have stopped you very much, and if you think I can't write a book, you couldn't be anymore wrong. It's not my home, you fucked it all up. What was your plan again? Tell me to get "new material"? Why, so I can have that stolen too? You don't get it. I know everything, and instead of working together, you're the St. Bernard of the S&R team, and you don't even know that you've been captured in the SABRE hostile corporate takeover event. You didn't even notice. I guess you didn't see the things that you needed to see.... in order to do what, exactly? What were you going to do for me, ever? Crush some pistachios for your thug's puppy while handing me a weapons permit to fill out in trips? *stamps* Here, it's, done.
You and I aren't even close. You have no idea what is going on in that Hall of Justice, or, you picked dumb time to learn how to act. In conclusion, I got sent control codes for SHAWKLAN last night, out of nowhere, and I instantly thought, "wow, with these, I caulk make the men kill each other over the phonon and ethne force the adwomen to watch the girls take drugs with me!" Seems a bit of a waste, but whatever, you probably came up with all this when you were 17... oh, that's right, you did, Fox told me.
So for you to play dumb as pretty stupid. Ergo, you were under duress. And you stuck me with a Bio-Bug. So you must have been unwilling to believe that I could have helped you and it wasn't worth dealing with the threats of a twerp than it was to just... say hello. Okay, well, that's fucked up. Try not to fuck things any more than you already have.
I had to sacrifice Becky Anderson to get this far. This is going to cost you. And you did all this, and, more importantly, this is what our taxes go to, huh? Great. Smooth. Nice job getting a degree. You get degrees, I get medals, and I tricked KAEH to admit ON THE PHONE to me that she's a paedophile. Guess what? That's Good Game. That's DUNZO. *snap*
Don't touch Cort. I just can't even. You can tell her that I'm a Master Mase, though. Still, Level Zero. AND, get this: they showed me the ritual to bless the sacrament--and as long as I can somehow prevent myself from sucking the wrong trucker cock or or snuggling up to the wrong prepubescent Rainbow Girl, I'll be a financier for an international pharmaceutical research think tank in Jarkarta faster than you can say "Motherfucker, did he take my foundational documents? We're fucked." Basically, yes, but I've got other plans and you and she can sit around at your wake for Volume Shoe Source while I go out and get real shit done. It's possible she has never even seen the real thing, too. My guess is, putting up with Biscuits and having to lie to me about you was a bit of a strain. In any event, this shit isn't going to keep going, because eventually, there's a court date, and until then, I think I'll probably get a job repossessing cars.
Imagine everything I ever heard about you and they and that you didn't get to do it, because you were too busy being a smack-addled whore. All that stuff you thought you would do, I'm going to go do it. I literally have nothing better to do, unless the Giffords give me any shit, any shit whatsoever, in which case, it's a case of Carly in Charge.
Of
your life. Lisa Marie Presley: DEAD. Some kid playing video games, 12secs ago: Jesus, the youngling gets a voice changing computer too?
Well, good, I would imagine that a computer that can change a kids voice is probably not going to make anyone look phat.
