[...] in the Men's Room of The Space Age Rape Station & QuĪK<Ⓜ️art. I CAN DO THAT FOR, BY, AND WITH GOD.
WITH GOD
ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE.
I'm going to go outside now and go live on YouTube™ and whatever career you got left motherfucker, you would best better pray to God that you get to keep it for another couple weeks at least
Hang on.
* Jackstar briefly contemplates which intersection in town is best to stand in the middle of, IV CM in, and pirouette like a tubby ballerina while waiting for S.W.A.T. to come in with the Flying Tackle Troopers™.
While we wait for Albino Bob Ross to finish applying the D A.R.Ē.-cur-elle to his G∞²: &AND,‘FRO, should be any minute now, assuming Pleaidian Slime Lordz actually use units of time measurements that are called “minute,” seriously, if you think Texans have a big ego, you wouldn't believe the ego on these bat-shit crazy Timecorps Hoor-Lordz, who orbit the central solar sun of Alcyone while remaining utterly HYP-KNOW-TYZED by the melodic harmonies created by their fleets of Space Dreidels. Because of course caluculating hyperspace jump coordinates with a mere slide-rule wouldn't be J∞-:Ë:
enough.
tl;dr: Hang on. IN THREE (3)!
TWO (ĪĪ)!
WON! (Fuck
my mother and hand mⓂ️Ê the T.A.R.D.I.S. keys, you fucking ©⭕©kK§Ω>K (cur). One does not race the Sun without a raise for The Son. (Hail Satan.) I can't go on without my buddy SupaDupaFlĪ.
Shout-outs to: American McGee; Sparrowslain; H.S. Thompson; R.A. Heinlein; and Cher. (Turns out, she's really quite the ‽¡†çh.) What? Ewe can't handle that much inside baseball without someone inventing a way to build a better mousetrap w/included gestation crates. Obviously, I could burn the energy to explain -AND- invent that too. You know: in my spare time. Which I fkn have nothing else but, right? Hang on.
* Jackstar gets high from the pre-gasm energy coming from calling that whore that Grapefruit calls a sister now.
Yes, it's quite a rush. The Algonquin People
do not surrender well. Looks like we're having subjugation for supper again. (After they made Jean-Luc sing to Law-⭕❌-Anna Troi (3) in that one episode in which The unfathomable gayness of Patrick Stewart became undeniably obvious, I knew I was going to have to come up with a big finish — and sadly, it's not going to occur on the property of The Magic Castle in Las Vegas, Nevada. Awww, shucks.
No mud, no lotus; no free drinks, no crippling unpaid income tax burden. CHECKMATE.) Q? Q who?
The latest stretch goal is I'm gonna make that pussycat beg to assimilate my bulldog. Because, this is what the fans want to see. (They don't get to.) This is where the money will be made. (... and: it's already spent. On Space Shoes, probably.) Hey. Paul-🅰️.
Everyone wins, or no one wins. A rising tide lifts all boats. Note that I am using the word “BOAT” here.
🅱️ BEST.
Sayonara, çlīTvvÎ↓ches!!
