Without a paywall around my content, I am not beholden to my audience as in regards to when I put it out. This is undoubtedly a huge problem to those who have, in the past, relied upon mostly reliable intel when it comes to the current statuses of my life.
So my decision to stop posting on and delete:
TELEGRAM;
TWITTER;
TIK-TOK;
T-MAIL... oh, wait. I don't have the Thunderbird Email client for Mozilla, and I never have used it... but I can see why it was such a bug deal, back in the day.
E-MAIL... used to be something I put a lot of The Narrative on, you know?
Nowadays, since ALL MY COMMS ARE:
COMPROMISED;
INTERCEPTED;
INTERDICTED;
INTERFERED WITH;
AND,
ARE NOT NOW (nor likely ever were)
BEING PROTECTED BY THE U.S.S. ENTERPRISE ... wtf, I am this pretty? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
It's just this simple: if you've sat through or even heard of The Wrath Of Khan, you know exactly what has happened, because at a particular point in the past, somebody decided it was time to take the bait.
They apparently have by now, reeled up the whole boat along with it. Oh,
you're welcome, Bellgab.
I didn't fool you. I didn't fool anyone. I don't have all pig iron, I don't have any pig iron.
What I do have, is AZZERAE STEALING MY WRITING, EDITING IT WITH NEITHER PERMISSION NOR AUTHORITY, AND THEN POSTING INTEL ON THE TWINNED FORUM. “Your number one source for Bellgab news.” WAY TO GO.
NOW: NO ONE KNOWS ANYTHING ANYMORE, EXCEPT THIS:
ßestie, Fruity, Fruitē, Mom⁰, Morⁿ, Grapefruit, Gracefruit, Greatfruit, Spot, and I...
ARE ALL EXTREMELY PISSED OFF. /golfclap +
kiss my ass Data, I'm not working for LoreMeantime I've got assholes whining about how I need to spend more money on the vehicles they've been sabotaging, and I STILL DO NOT HAVE RUNNING WATER. You have time to be whining about how you need me to tell you the name of the company that dug the well? WTF, do you think I haven't asked?
MEANWHILE I NEED A BATH AND YOU TWERPS JUST LAUGH AT ME. I'm sure the notion of spending more money on a motel sounds great to you G-6 and higher government employees (since you're actually trying to drive me into bankruptcy) but the simple fact of the matter is the following...
I do not have lots of money, I never did, and I am presently unable to collect income, and so I'm not spending anything on anyone... not even me. (Anyone thinking I was gonna be a good provider to a golddigging hussy can kiss my ass on the way out of the door that they're about to walk through/be pushed out of ought not be treated too harshly, as for one thing, MY SEX LIFE IS NOT YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS, BELLGAB, and for another, I am clearly worth more than whatever my “projected income earning potential” might be. So given that my life has been relentlessly interfered with... it's a damn foolish woman who would look at my credit score, amount of money in the bank, or susceptibility to any bamboozling wiles —BE THEY♀️OR ♂️— because in case that wasn't obvious to any of you, I'm not buying anyone anything ... EVER!
There were times I have been generous with my money. I'm still being generous. I'm saving a bundle on my legal bills in the future by not having BENJAMIN (BLANK) (PROT) fucking killed, and instead, I am more than happy to let him payback the Social Security Administration for what he was overpaid. Honestly, he's kinda cute; it would be a shame to kill him. How much could he possibly owe?
Can't he just... work it off? Maybe he can get a part-time summer job. That's 3 weeks left of the season before Autumn, get on out there. You know. Shine shoes; blow glass; mow lawns —not my lawn, you scare the deer away— whatever it takes to make the Gov’t happy.
I'm not going to say whether he is or is not my legal obligation to support, lol, I'll simply say this: is Grapefruit even his mother? I only ever saw them fight with each other...
🎵I HAVE THIS ON VIDEO!!!🎶Moving on; because that's just one of the complexities that remains to be dealt with. And while one might think I should probably talk to someone about this, well... NO CONTACT. EMERGENCY. MUST NOT CONTACT.
So. If I am making things difficult for THUGS, THIEVES, AND BLATANTLY MISOGYNIST HIGHWAYMEN AND THEIR MISANDRIST ACCOUNTANCY TEAMS to figure out who loves who, who made who, and who I am *actually* in a “Relationship” with, BIG 'R' INTENDED, if it's too fucking hard to figure it out, well, I'll make it simple.
NUMBER ONE: PRESENT A WARRANT, YOU SMARMY FEDERAL FUCKING FUCKBAGS;
NUMBER TWO: 420 BLAZE IT, FEDFAGS
NUMBER THREE: GO ASK JON SNOW WHEN MY TAX RETURNS ARE THREE (3) FEET (🦶) TALL.
* Jackstar ’s nostrils look kinda like they still flare, but seem caked with dried yogurt.
Because even Jon Snow knows more about me, than do basically any one of you slack-jawed yokels do. Hey, guess what else? Since now ẞestie & ßestie & babē’s BFF all now just figured out in a gasping flash of intuition how some of you have gotten totally fucking dazed and confused, not only did all the work you 🧊chuckleheads just spent a few weeks on get COMPLETELY BTFO, but, now I have at least two (2) more allies that are now quite a bit more understanding as to why I sometimes seem to be communicating... strangely.
It's not that I have a lot of enemies. It's that I have no eye contact with anyone, not even them... and zo, ze eye-lazerz, zey do & D.EW. & DON’T NUT-TINK.
Not quite the last straw, Kids—but, getting closer. Snorting yogurt really is quite nourishing and I really don't suggest you try it sometime. Here's what I do suggest now:
TRY DOING THIS MYYYYYYYY WAAAAAAAAAYYY... at least once, Holy Jesus fuckin’ shitballs, before planning YET ANOTHER FAKE WEDDING. Like what is it now, the fourth? The fifth? No, wait, those are the Amendments. Whatevah. For the time being, just go into your conference rooms, put your heads down at the table, and cry silently about how fucking dumb your mentors have been, for they have misled all of you as to the nature of Your Hero.
I BELONG TO ME
I AM A HERO
I AM A MOTHER’S HERO
I AM A HEROES MOTHER
I AM AN HERO
I AM A⁰ HERO HEIR, & A⁰
AND THESE FACTS...
HAVE NOT ALWAYS BEEN (TRUE|false),
AND ALWAYS WILL ߌß
ONES CAN db CHANGEŒ.
(and One just did. -°,°¡⁰fu-lé!)
The Great Game is not a game—nor meant for a child.
Not even for The Children of The Huntress. (Grow up.)
If that is not clear to you: G∞d. TTY“Soon™