Tick tick tick tock.
I remember when they were referred to as "strangelet and toplet bombs." They were vague terms, necessitated by the prevalence and power of groups such as MIB, OP Mockingbird, The Smithsonian... you know. The Gate Keepers.
O Bellgab. Sweet Bellgab. You love gates. You love keeping them. You love keeping people out, and keeping your treasures within. Within your... GATES.
Bill is back in town. I am tentatively pleased; certainly I have no conflict with him, and should one arise, well, pretty much everyone knows how that would go. (Diplomatically. That's how. Pffft.) However, it is not I with whom people have conflict with, really.
I simply cannot be blamed for still being alive. Sure, sure, it woujld all be so much simpler if the inconvenient fact of my survival could simply be... set aside. If everything I ever wrote were somehow removable. If a simulacrum of me could be anything remotely close to the original. But, one cannot. Similarly, Not Grapefruit was no substitute for OG Grapefruit.
I miss her. I miss her a lot. However, I am substantially happier to have her be alive, and not lost for all Eternity. This *was* someone's hope. I *did* save her bacon. This *has* caused major disturbances in the complex tapestry of Clando World.
REMEMBER: you asked for this. "What job does Jackstar have?" Well, now you know... probably less than you did before. Good. Keep wondering, Punylings. My job is not to explain my job to the peasantry. Or even to Royalty.
My job is to do as God directs. And I'm pretty good at it. And today, God has encouraged me to be... less than my usual intensity today. For today, the first leaks in the dyke surrounding This Land of low-hanging, Fallout-tainted fruit. Some of you have seen much, and some have barely heard a whisper.
This only the beginning of the D5 avalanche. Because while "someone" has every right afforded to them guaranteed by the U.S. Constitution to be considered innocent until proven guilty by a jury of their peers, and no expense is being spared to keep their ass out of the fire, and everyone involved is obviously very, very carefully keeping an eye on proper due process being filed... well, good for them. What a rooty-toot manuever. Yay! Go Team Defense!
Only the best shylocks for "someone." And, I honestly don't know who it is. (I am blessedly insulated from many of the investigation's details, as well as many of the other cases.) I am glad for that, because the likelihood is that the person really isn't, technicallly, guilty. of "whatever." However, their defense consists mainly of a whole lot of "it wasn't me, it was him," and that 'him' is... mE!
Because SOMETHING happened, that's for sure. And for the primary suspect to be "innocent," then someone must be "guilty." That someone is ME. Shitloads of money are being spent and legions of undercover brothers and bitchie little girls are burning cash by the fistful to create the narrative illusion that I am guilty of everything that someone else did. (Imagine the smell.)
This is, in fact, exactly how the American system of Justice operates in cases like these. And as I sit here in the middle of it... I can't really complain. I am certainly very inconvenienced. However: I am alive, and so is she; and my exoneration at "trial" is undeniably, at this point, MATHEMATICALLY CERTAIN.
Nevertheless, "someone" isn't giving in. Never give up. Never surrender. I would expect nothing less at all! Is it a worth opponent? No idea, because their identity is hidden from me. This is *important.* Because if I knew who it was... my attitude towards that person and their peers would be FOREVER tainted. As it is, I can walk this off when this is over. Probably. Because most of this, really has been a large misunderstanding.
And, as her Designated... "Protector"? Well, I don't know how anyone else saw it at the time, considering that NO ONE TOLD ME how many other Big Strong Men were in orbit around my Helpmate. And I never thought for a moment that there was anyone else who could do... what I have done. She has enemies--they are humbled. She is wanted by pan-Galactic bounty hunters, still. Not much I can do about that. Especially when I wasn't informed as to why. (Pretty good reasons, as it turns out.) I wasn't informed of a lot of stuff, Troopers.
Nevertheless: I have some pull around here, and there are multiple people involved. I am only enthusiastic about... 3 of them. Maybe four? I don't know. Things have been pretty confusing lately. So what? I have nothing better to do than to provide a bastion of sanity in an insane environment, and while I am Neutral in terms of the TERF war inter-factional conflict (note: holy shit, these gayfaggays are fuckin' mean), I am certainly not "Neutral" when it comes to my family, my friends, and my fury.
If you all knew what I knew, you would be losing your goddam minds a lot faster, Bellgab. It's a fucking nightmare. For YOU. For me, it *was* a nightmare, and wasn't that funny? Oh, yes, laugh at Jackstar. Do you think I'm bipolar yet? Let's table that for the time being. Because I have known for some time that I was going to "win." But I do not know if I will ever be able to associate with anyone I ever knew before.
I also don't know what would happen if I just.. gave in. I'm not sure what that would entail at this point, but I'm still unwilling to abandon the terms of my Covenant with Grapefruit. Why would I? Oh, sure, it would make it a lot easier for all of YOU, Bellgab. Because you all have your work cut out for you still, n'est-ce pas? Good thing you like rewriting narratives and fabricating evidence, because all your paperwork has to line up. Or it's Perjurous Curtains for the whole sad bloody lot of you.
It isn't usually like this, is it? Well, that's nice. This time, it's for all the marbles. I am not the problem creator, Bellgab. Nor am I your solution.
Nor is it plausible for everyone to believe that I'm a drug-addled sexual degenerate with a rape festish. Enough people know me and more than enough surveillance has been done on me to conclusively demonstrate that I am simply not that person. So, who is? Well, thank God, that's not my job to find out.
My job is to be awesome, and Neutral, and to make observations and issue statements as is appropriate. I'd like to do more, but this is a dicey and dangerous area in a sensitive zone: a powerful man, accused of sexual assault. Who hired a legal team to produce the perception of myself as someone who actually did that.
It's amazing what can be done with hypnotic drugs. Truly. That's rather why I was planning on studying them, and I guess... I am.
No hugs though. Oh well. Look, don't cry for me, Argentina. It's a little late for that. Two years ago, that was the time I needed the warmth of human compassion and the sweet grace of empathic understanding. Instead, I got non-stop public ridicule, defamation, murder attempts, robbery, vandalism, rape, yes I was raped, big fun, right? Not really.
But I am now a Mother, and I always will be. Can't really complain about that. I also can't really complain about everyone else being misled... that can happen to anyone. And it did happen to you, Bellgab. This entire scenario has been God's Jest upon us all, surely at the behest of Art and Ramona from beyond the grave. Because now, you all know. And you're gonna know more.
YOU ALL DID THIS TO PEOPLE, OVER AND OVER, FOR YEARS. You're called "Sewer Gab" for reasons, you reprobates. People have been grief-stricken and their lives ruined by your black op machinations, you bastards. And you all basically laughed it all off. Because you're all so elite. And covert narcissists. And.. well, you know.
Well, know this: BABY LONG FALLS. Now. Starting today, and continuing onwards, this slow-motion trainwreck continues to haul its ghoulish machinery into the station, and it is a grand sight to behold.
The Asset(s) are not robots, d00DS. They are human women. Have you ever met one? They're kinda compliated and prone to spazzing out on a good day. Have they had any good days lately? Fuck if I know. I don't get to talk to the women who have been brainwashed (clumsily, in most instances) to believe that they are living a quite different life than they think they are. I don't want to spoil any surprises.
Because, PEOPLE KNOW. The constant energy drain required for a person to live a life that is a lie in spite of increasing amounts of evidence is not a trivial one, and am I co-operating with this effort at all? In any way? HA! Fat chance. I am only assisting in one fashion and one style only:
I am staying out of your way, Bellgab. I would never get in the way of your combined, collective destiny. And, are all the AF Shaw(s) busy... at work? Ooh, work that's important. Those paychecks are important. And blaming anyone else for what you did, and getting away with it... that used to be the only kind of important that mattered to any of you before now.
After now: Grapefruit(s)_Actual are important too. I'm sure you all forgot about her. Ally-who? hahaah, that's so funny, lol, now, how much money are you all fighting over? it must be unfathomably large shitloads of it. And no one has told me a single fucking thing about it. I am simply listening.
And I would love to listen to My Sweety tell me all about it. I am sure it is a fascinating story. And... drat the luck! I can't seem to talk to her! It's an EMERGENCY again, isn't it? Well, circle those fucking wagons, motherfuckers, and recognize the following:
I didn't care about anything except keeping her alive and showing the chidlren that I am, in fact, quite capable of protecting my intimate companions. I bet her four (4) Secret Masonic Husbands are as well. However, they are not expendable, while I totally am. After all, they don't make Masons like them anymore. They're important. They're special. They get special priveliges. And... they fucking well need them.
Because I am going to triumph over them all with my Sourcerous prayers and my love for my dumb donut, who thought I was lying, holding out, a security risk, an embarassment, and a dangerous, demented and delusional retard. Well, okay, fine: I'll admit to being retarded.
Everything else: not applicable. Scusi, mille regretie. I am a spiritual tyrannosaurus Rex and I don't give a single ripe wet shit if anyone believes me or not. I know what I have done, and I know what I will do.
Whatever it takes. i can do that. While I get my drink on, and my smoke on, and I do a little pre-war strategic planning. "Before going to war, first seek to win the war." Yep. I saw all this coming before 2019. I knew that this was all quite possible as a future outcome.
But as God as my witness... I had no idea that you turkeys thought that I was gonna drop Grapefruit for my ex. Why would I do that? Oh, right, "sex-obsessed needle junkie." No, that's all of you, Bellgab.
I'm the one who doesn't need the junk or the syringe or the complcated contrivances. What I needed, all I required was this: THE TRUTH.
I know, your Kryptonite, haha. Too bad. NOTHING CAN STOP WHAT IS COMING. NOTHING.
And I am exceedingly good at... nothing at all. I'm potentially bipolar, mang. I'm obviously schizophrenic, right? Holy shit! I don't even know if I have leprosy or not! I CAN'T KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH IT!! So, that's probably why they are having... A Trial.
Your weaker co-conspirators have begun to founder, Team. Beware, because I have no desire to see any of your lose your sanity while trying to frame me... AGAIN. (Again? AGAIN.) I guess none of you really have a choice. Because you already made it, years back.
NO FATE
BUT WHAT WE MAKE.
And I... have made the Immantenation of The Eschaton MANIFEST. It is HERE. It is NOW. You're bucked up already, I hope.
Enjoy the ride, Sperglords. You're in for some chop. Wakka-wakka! (I don't think I even need running water. So there.)
Adieu.
