Gmail Michael Kuczi <michaelkuczi@gmail.com>
final tail-end
Michael Kuczi <michaelkuczi@gmail.com> Mon, {DATE:REDACTED} at 5:26 AM
To: (PROT) <(blank)@gmail.com>
the following is the last message today, in that skein:
"Why, it's because you lied to me. You lied to yourself, and thereby, to the rest of the world, and unlike most people you know who smoke as much as I did... my spirit animal is Lord Ganeesha."
Quite unsurprisingly, there is a point at which Google Voice says, "hey, what the fuck... this person is sending A LOT of messages. WTF?"
They have software for that. The software issues alerts. The alerts are attended to by IT guys.
I am an IT guy. Those are MY people. THIS IS MY HOUSE. Do you know of the BOFH? No? That's okay. It is a secret amongst IT guys.
NOW, I shall reveal to you that I just totally shitted up your phone texting service, for a variety of reasons. They will now follow:
1) Honestly curious if the hard limit for over-provisioning the data has changed;
2) Honestly curious if the protocol for alerting the user as to an error has changed;
3) Honestly curious if you would shut your phone off, or call the police, or ask someone ELSE to NICELY ask me to stop what I'm doing;
4) My inner voice suggested that I stop.
5) YOU ASKED FOR THIS. Oh, I'm sure you asked for it in a different way, but I am the (REDACTED), and the (REDACTED)'s word is Law.
Now. I will not be sharing my new information with you in this email--there's no question that I've flagged multiple warning signals, and although -I believe- Google only investigates those signals from a technical standpoint... since I am, "technically" trying to "hack" "reality," they can pretty much do whatever they like, in response to me.
They can't have me killed--I'm not a world-famous journalist named Michael, after all--and I do not have much else to lose, given that, I just lost a personal hero this week.
Now. As to what YOU can do. Well, for one thing, you can take a moment to notice--I obviously don't have anything to hide. You can show all this stuff, to whomever you like, and to a person, every person would agree, "hey, there's something weird going on here."
I would prefer that you did not, but, hey! You follow your own rules. I have no control over that.
You break your own rules as it pleases you, and you re-implement them, according to your (Blank)-driven whim. I also have no problems with that.
However, I have seen you--in recent days!!--break your own rules, and steadfastly deny that you had, and claim that you were right, and I was wrong, and I watched you be in the right while still promulgating wrong thought.
Such is the power of (Blank). However, when I offered to give you what (Blank) craves, you yourself chickened out, and went the (Blank) route.
You know, (PROT) is a (Blank). Fascinating! You know, I cannot wait to write that book about ascendant sun signs, and non-ascendant sun signs... oh, wait. I am saying to much.
These are trade secrets. I am not going to tell Google what I have decided my book project is going to actually be. If I did, they would have the right to, well... I don't know, but these are the guys who have self-driving cars.
They obviously know what they are doing, right? Anyway, I'm sure that it is definitely rude to save up ALL your questions, (PROT), and then wait until a time of MY choosing, and then answer them ALL AT ONCE, because it is going to be IMPOSSIBLE for you, or anyone else, to unlock the meaning of what I am writing here, without The Key.
The NSA is going to have to run this through their hackbreaker thing--everything does--but this one, well, it will be an anomaly. I don't know where anomalous signal chatter gets sent, but you know what? It gets sent SOMEWHERE.
Fortunately I am no threat to national security, and I'm not threatening you, or I would probably be, you know, killed. Taken out, marginalized, you know, whatever. That thing your father tried to do to me, when he banished me from your home, except, a much larger scale.
You know, if all I wanted to do was fuck you, your father's action would have enraged me. Now, all I want to do is tickle him, and wiggle his cheeks, and tell him how cute his angry tough-guy attitude is.
Pretty rude to do to a Vietnam vet, but, hey. What standard am I supposed to follow? I earnestly went to apologize, and then... was turned away twice. What am I supposed to do?
"threaten to make money from sharing your family's story" sounds good to me. Do you have a better idea? Better than insulting (PROT), perhaps? It had better be, because your verbal assault of that innocent woman amounts to harassment, hate speech, et cetera, et cetera, the whole nine yards.
I am smart enough to see what you have done, and I am responsible enough to stay uninvolved, and I am ordained by Spirit to take action when I see foulness, and I can take action.
Now, I honestly wanted to walk away from this situation--I know you don't believe that--and... I wasn't allowed. And then, when I found a person I found acceptable... they refused to call me.
No way of knowing how much of that was your responsibility, however, without you, I would have had to have done it differently, and wouldn't have even had the option if it wasn't for you.
And then, when I gave you the option to address this very serious issue, you...
a) blamed and attacked someone completely uninvolved;
b) exhibited an extreme lack of tolerance for my own errors;
c) completely and totally FAILED to take advantage of the DIRECT INSTRUCTIONS you asked for, that I GAVE YOU.
Now, I could explain all those statements. Or, I could just stop writing to you.
Now, interestingly, although this wasn't my plan, I can tell you that writing non-stop like this, has allowed me to gauge how "fucked up" my ability to write is still impacted, by THE FIRST car crash.
Now, as it turns out, I can report that, according to my sensations, and my own process of logical deduction, that I am (REDACTED).
As it further turns out, I do not care, and do not even know what any of that even means. However, unlike THE LAST TIME I sent you a bunch of information like this, I a) do not have a lawyer, and b) am not under surveillance by anyone except... the (Unspecified Federal Corporate Conglomerate Apparatus Department Section).
And, as you might imagine, they don't give a rat's ass about my "preferences." They are a soulless, faceless, consciousness-less engine of meat and money and sweat and pain, and they have been operating as such for much longer than I have been alive.
(Ed.: "Hi, (PROT)!!")
If it were not for how much I loved you, I would have thrown you under the bus, gotten a whole bunch of money, and then... been killed by the (blank) company. Don't fucking accuse me of being "high" and "delusional"--MY OWN LAWYER, BOUND BY LAW TO REPRESENT THE COURTS INTERESTS, told me to my face, "dude, kid, stop, even if you won, they would just kill you."
I doubt he was serious, however, the letter of what he said, actually means that. Moving on.
Now, you might be wondering, "so what? none of this makes sense!" You might also realize that I have been deliberately making it NOT make sense, so that I can then make it make A LOT of sense LATER.
I'm deliberately leaving out the parts that make sense. I haven't started using cryptography and/or actual ciphers--those activities might be a violation of Federal Law, how should I know?--but I would so love to.
For example, here is an encrypted version of the persons name, the one you were asking about:
xxxxx xxx xxxxx
I think if I sent -another- email, one that included a list of instructions on how to read what I just sent, as well as how to create other messages, the Patriot Act would be authorized to have me disappeared for sharing encryption science with foreign powers. However, it isn't 2001-2012 anymore.
It is {DATE:REDACTED}. Things have changed. Oh, except for, the way that you still ACT AS though you are JUSTIFIED to {QUASI-LEGAL_ACTIVITY:CLASSIFIED} all weekend.
You went over the line this weekend, {NICKNAME:DIMINUITIVE}. Maybe if you had known I had a (blank) date in two weeks. But, really, I'm always two weeks away from a (blank) date. If you require threats in order to behave nicely, then you cannot be-have nicely.
Fortunately, you are not in trouble. However, I am going to have MUCH more fun than you are, in the coming months, AND, you are to blame. Not that I mind--you know me, I'm happy to skip past blame and go directly to orgasms--but you have said that you hold yourself to a higher standard.
Except, of course, when it suits you to insult me, instead of addressing my points. Tsk, tsk, tsk.
I'm not sure what is going to go down for you this week--obviously, I'm just crazy in the head from the drugs, and I'm going to be bothering you, becau... oh, wait.
Yeah, that's not going to happen. if it does, why, I guess that proves I really am "out of control" and I "need help."
Help that you didn't give me at all for the last two years. Now, the cynical amongst us might claim that it was so you could keep me under your thumb. I, however, know the truth.
Or I've just made up some story that makes more sense than you do. How hard is that? Like, seriously, this is what you've been doing:
You've been making a nemesis out of the first person I ever met, after meeting you, that I thought could use my help* as much as you could have, and, instead of examining the situation, you simply ASSUMED it was about me getting laid.
I have respected you enough to not take advantage of such situations, because it would be disrespectful to you, and I have DELIBERATELY made myself less "hot" in order to do so (like you did), AND, I have told you absolutely EVERYTHING you demanded to know.
And, still... all you do is make (PROT) sad. How peculiar. You had other options. You know, this isn't going to happen this time, since I am guiding over you and protecting you, but... has it ever occurred to you, that your biggest danger in life is not some man who might abuse you, but... some other woman who might simply decide that the gene pool is better off without you?
If I were a woman and you and I were in contest over the love of a man I loved, I would have stopped at nothing to destroy you. But that is "if." IN REALITY, you stopped at nothing to destroy the threats to the man you loved... except, you know, for a smoke.
Oh, everything stops if you don't have your (DRUG:LICIT) and your (DRUG:ILLICIT) and your (FOOD:PARASITIC). You know it, I know it, your family knows it, your employers know it... everyone knows it!
"Institutional failure." Remember that part.
And, now, after I have TOLD you, that I have QUIT (CLANDESTINE_ACTIVITY:BORING)... instead of praising that, you have...
Actually, openly mocked me. Now, I forgive you, because I know why you have.
{PARAGRAPH:REDACTED}
{PARAGRAPH:REDACTED}
Fascinating. I am sure to tell a medical professional this fact in private, because, I literally don't know how to share this information without embarrassing you.
I could tell (PROT), of course, but, you know, whatever. He told (PROT) lies about me, so, whatever.
Anyway. We'll see what happens when I run out of (DRUG:LAWFULLY_PRESCRIBED). {REMAINING_PARAGRAPH_TEXT:REDACTED}
I'm interested to know how you can be! so! sure! that I am a big failure, but... you know what? I have my theories.
{PARAGRAPH:REDACTED}
Oh, I know that isn't the reality, but I've been in your position before. I know how you feel. Junky.
And, in spite of all this, I am not angry with you beyond all measure. I am not enraged to the point of blind hatred. I am not contemptible of you, and desirous of a world without you.
ON THE CONTRARY. I now love you more than ever! It is the kind of love that extends beyond simple "marriage" and "divorce."
I don't know what it is, but, you're in the club. Now, you'll have to pay attention to the world around you. I never planned on having a club, and I never thought I'd have one, and I never thought that someone would ever think it was a good idea to actively declare hostilities against all the people who like me, for whatever reason they do.
I did not plan any of this. I had other plans. And now, at the age of {INTEGER:UNSPECIFIED}, I am come to realize that the entire history of my life has been one of constant pressure and buffeting from all the females in my life.
Welcome to the first position of the new era. All those who have failed me in a particular way, now have to pass through The Gates of (PROT). The pay sucks, and it is a terrible job, and I will never, ever, ever allow you to quit, and my PREFERENCE is that you do it forever.
Not because you are suited for it, but because I love you, and the position comes with a certain amount of spiritual protection. Which is great, you need that, because I, at this point, do not give TWO SHITS about your future distress.
I ASKED YOU to get (PROT)'s attention for me--attention that YOU borked up--and you said you would, and then, you failed to follow through;
I ASKED YOU to write something--and you REFUSED;
I ASKED YOU to write something IN PARTICULAR--and you AGREED;
and then I ASKED YOU to make sense of your decisions to do such things, and instead of being legitimate with your answers, you chose to:
a) accuse me of wanting, having, and lying sex with (PROT), and;
b) crank up your terrible behavior to a level that even I myself could not peer through without outside assistance.
Look, look--I can just ask God what to do with you, but I refuse to. I was there before, and you mocked me. I'm still asking God what to do with (PROT). Someone has to tell me what to do, because the only thing I would really like to do is TELL HER WHAT YOU DID.
I cannot unless she asks, and she'll never ask unless I convey the story, which is, of course, unconveyable. Well played, (PROT). This would have worked out just as well as your other gambits to keep a woman away from me, except... this one's mother has my birthday.
I mean, yeah, I would totally love to fuck her--maybe, she'd have to be super polite--but all this time while you've been mocking me, I've simply been... obeying the directives of another person born on {INTEGER:UNSPECIFIED}/{INTEGER:UNSPECIFIED}.
Consider this an explanation for why I can act with impunity here. No matter what I do, "not guilty," or "not guilty by reason of insanity" are the only possible outcomes for any trial I might possibly have to face.
So, the next time you start acting like you're looking out for the poor, innocent, wholesome girl that you accuse me of "stalking," you might want to consider what the chain of evidence shows about YOUR behavior.
You are not stalking me, because I have not complained. All I have to do is complain ONCE, and that machine's gears would begin to turn.
Conversely, consider what YOU would have to do, if I ACTUALLY started "stalking" you. Well, you'd first have to get someone besides your father to believe it.
In the meantime, I'm the one with mutilated genitals, AND I'm the one who was STOLEN from. I do not think that either you or (PROT) have had your genitals mutilated, AND I know for A FACT that I have never tried to steal from either of you.
So. I will admit that the reason I did not report (PROT)'s thieving to the police was somewhat self-serving (I didn't want to have to tell (PROT) about it), and since I have never hidden that fact from anyone, I'm kind of wondering where your claims that I am a "stalker" have come from.
In related news, the mean people on the Internet that accused me of being a paedophile are all miserably unhappy. That's fine with me. I really do not forgive such slanderous lies.
Now. I am sure that this email is ALL YOU NEED, (PROT). ALL YOU NEED to get ALL THE HELP you could possibly ask for. I have blown up your SMS--I have made rude statements to your family--and I have utterly failed to respect your state boundaries.
Strangely, none of your six or seven brothers and/or male friends who know you and care about you are willing to stand up to me, but that's not relevant. Maybe I'm just that scary.
Or, maybe... just maybe... I am completely in control of the gale force wind that I am powering my sail by. Note that I am NOT saying, "I control the wind."
But if I were to say "I am controlling my ability to control how the wind influences me," that would be a truthful statement. It would also probably trigger some bitching about word choice, or whatever, but as it turns out, when I am acting in certain modes, the opinions of local humans has absolutely no impact on my artistic licence.
Imagine: a man so mad at you, that he deliberately a) contracts a painful disease that is not life-threatening, and b) tells his sperm, over and over and over, "it is my hope that you bring new life to where I am sending you."
Now, I am not ever going to do that. I'm simply offering up a contrast to how I have actually behaved, which is to deliberately avoid communicable diseases, and I've told my sperm, "if you wanna grow there, you are on your own, troops."
I could infect you with herpes on purpose. By "I could," I mean, I possess the technical knowledge to do it and get away with it. I would never, ever, ever, of course, do that, but I am bringing up the example for a purpose.
I could really not care about knocking you up--obviously, I could deal with that possibility, and as I've stated, I wouldn't abandon you to such a fate. However, I have come to realize, that my DNA in your womb just might be the only way that you will ever be satisfied in this life.
You could have had me in every way it is possible to have a man. You could have had everything you ever dreamed of. And, instead... well, you done fucked up, (PROT). Sorry! Was not my idea!
Everytime you blame ME for what YOU did wrong, YOU lose the power of your (PROT) righteousness. You'll get it back, of course, a rubber band can only be stretched so long.
In the meantime, I do not know why you have chosen to treat me like you have, but, please, let me assure you, that I have absolutely no plans to publicly humiliate you, or your family.
I am considering making you into a porn star, but, you know, whatever, that's just the drugs talking.
It is my hope that you read this from start to finish, linearly. It is my hope that you have arrived at this point with a glimmer of understanding, one that will enable you to stop being a poop, pick up the phone, call me, and say "Michael! Jack! I figured out something about what you are talking about! Are you.... et cetera, et cetera, et cetera."
You've done that a few times, and it would obviously be a great boon to you for that to happen, so, it is not unreasonable for me to hope. And, I'm not making myself available to you in order to harvest that feeling of intense satisfaction.
You know that feeling, right? "I... was right. I stuck to my guns. I was right. Time has proven that. Ahhh." I know you know that feeling because you are an (PROT). That's how you feel ALL THE TIME.
Except, naturally, when you were wrong, wrong, wrong, and Taurus was right, right, right. When were you wrong? I don't know, I don't care. That's your problem.
It's MY problem to change "being right" into "being what works." It WOULD HAVE BEEN "our" problem, but... you've been putting it on me for pretty much the entire time I've known you.
So. Things have changed. I am sure my opinion about what I am going to do today is going to change. I mean, what I want to do, is seduce (PROT), then find my lawyer, and ask him about what is REALLY going on... but, sadly, I will probably do something else.
I think it will involve watching what everyone else does like a hawk, and then, cautiously changing my strategy, so no one notices what I am up to. Personally, I would rather make big, sweeping, grandiose changes, but...
(PROT) has gotten in the way. Now I gotta fix allll that stuff. It is probably for the best, since I think it is best that I not engage in all the activities that I am cleared to act upon.
For example, you know how it was (PROT), and not me, (PROT), who (PROT) people while high on drugs? Okay, now, see, I have to deal with the consequences of that, because, people like that, are exactly the kind of people that I wish to take LSD-25 for.
Those plans are on hold, of course, but they wouldn't be, if not for you. Fucking cannabis is legal, and there are actual government-sponsored scientists doing actual research with actual (CHEMICAL_COMPOUND:VERBOTEN). For the first time in like forty years.
In a state that is about as far away from here as it is possible to get to. The same state that (PROT) wanted me to go with him to. Interesting, that.
So. When you tell me that you know what I am all about, remember that you simply do not. Remember that you do not even know who (POLITICAL_FIGURE) is, so there's no shame in yourself not knowing what his wife's name is.
Here's a hint: he's famous, bald, and talks a lot of shit, without getting beaten up or assassinated. Sounds like a dream job, right? Well, I don't want to be him anymore, but I think that it would help you, (PROT), it would help you a lot, if you were to study the history of his marriage.
You won't, so I'll share the highlights with you. He and his wife have dramatically different opinions on cultural issues, and they argue about them with other people in public... and then, save their own discussions for their private life.
Are they Agents? Is the sex that good? Is he an idiot, being handled by a woman pretending to be in love? Shit, lady, I don't care anymore--once this guy ended up on {SOME_DUMB_TV_SHOW:REDACTED}, as a guest cameo, and, a significant amount of people knew who he was, I then realized that EVERY great leader has a smart bald guy working behind the scenes, married to a woman who doesn't see things his way.
That could have been you. You could have been married to the smart bald guy. Instead, you still (still!) complain about "{DRUG:LICIT}" while endorsing "{DRUG:ILLICIT}" while... absolutely refusing to do anything about improving things.
[...]
five twenty five is 25 squared
