aunts marching
Speaking of, My Cousin, Bitchlips McHooligan (name changed to protect his family virtue) showed up in a YouTube channel chat, on some stream that suddenly became a showcase showdown of marionette puppets, various private investigators who were asking questions, because, as you all know, there all sorts of Questions & Concerns going on about how I live my life, what I am doing with my life, how is my life going, and when am I going to make an honest woman out of Mrs. Paul. I skipped the last query, because they held her back at the end--she's too valuable.
I fucking slayed whatever investigative team was on me. Picture this: I was sitting there, minding my own business on the YT, watching some Terror Tarot Lady (RaRa, she's a pretty bomb Virgo, but she's a real method actress, I do love her though, but she has a kid, so I'm never going near her, you dig? okay? OTAY? Ovey), and while participating in the chat, and getting my drink on, and my smoke on, I thought I would do a little gambling, e.g., let's see what happens when I do this???
Now, I am getting this shit from ACTUAL COPS, right? And I am doing this because, for one thing, I have A LOT of time to kill while we all sit around and wait for a really long time while we all just sit and wait for my balls to overfill. For another, because of the statements made by ONE (1) A. SHAW, I have got a really bad public persona.
It's okay when I meet people in general on YT, but these psychics are nothing of the kind! I found this out, when I picked up the phone and used my Telegram dialer to dial the vs psychic greeting network. And it didn't work. But what did work, is that someone on the TWO-WAY CAMERA THAT IS ALWAYS ON. EVERY MIRROR, EVER, a personal Personal, and i followed the way to my heart in my mind, and thought--"I'm gonna call the one person who still pretends to answer the phone, and this one is gonna ring,"--and I do call... and, yep, the fucking Terror Tarot Lady's phone fucking rings. She's live. I call a phone number that in theory goes to a single person... it doesn't. It also goes to some YTuber.
Wow. That's interesting. Whoda thunk it. Well, I did, because it was Destiny. Somehow I knew, it would be a delight to see more of a confirmation of what I have known for sometime is happening--YouTube Spies, and so do the Terror Tarot Ladies, there's a Network, it's not new, but anyway, I have known that there are dimensional planar portals happening all the time.
Tarot has hidden hazards. Always be careful. It's not always this easy to penetrate a Reader's security--security being totes important to them--but I clearly needed to know, right away, at that moment, that... oh, wow! big fun! surveillance! I should get my boogers out of my nose more often!!!
Anyway, the day before, I'm sitting in front of the computer, and relaxin'/chillin', and this time, I start to feel like I am getting watched. Of course I am getting watched. I am that gorgeous. usually screenshots are enough for me. This time I start typing away in the chat--at my usual rate of speed--and in short order I find myself answering interrogative questions, which I mostly handle correctly, but mostly, I'm stoked, because WOW OMG LOL WOW DID YOU SEE THAT? DID YOU SEE THAT? I just saw proof! That woman is on my Loops! I don't know! it sounds good! So I'm going along with it, and I'm answering questions in my mind that seem appropriate at this juncture, because, why not? Picture this:
#1) 24/7 surveillance. Enjoy The Show.
#2) I already know the authorities have an erroneous Sourcerors's box.
#3) I already know that A Shaw openly lied to me, she called the police to falsely report a crime, multiple times, multiple states, and the last time was the last fuckin' strawman straw drawn, because she wanted to drive my buggy to Folsom Prison, pretty much, and for some mysterious reason, I am completely ignored by the absolute totes'n'total lot of you. Six months in isolation is a draining experience, and I don't think I have made this clear: I had no reason to go to custody... I was perfectly happy to engage in dissolution discussions on Christmas Eve, and so instead of anything but a fight, I walked in the door and was attacked. I didn't retaliate, I controlled the situation as best as I can, and I am not overly so, but still, I am traumatized. So everyone acting like I did something wrong? Fuck the lot of you. What do you have to do with it anyway?
Speaking of "what do you have to do with it anyway," I found myself talking to a series of investigative-type individuals on a YTchannels chat during a tarot spread, and one of them appeared to me to be my cousin Timothy Michael Gifford in a subterfuge disguise, and I have not "doxxed" him according to my understanding, but I did put his name up so he can take me to court if he likes. I don't know what he's doing, but he's clearly up to something, and it's really really stupid.
It's possible that he hired Grapefruit? not likely. Nevertheless, I am being investigated up and upside down, all around, and... well, I seem to be doing okay. Which is great, a psyche eval is surely would I could use.
#5) I needed my nebulizer while I was at the motel down the road, and I got nothing but static, the cops didn't want to give me another civil standy, and they eventually convinced me that I would be able to make them acknowledge my point later. Well, later came and nothing, but the important part is that when I finally got home, I found my nebulizer, still new in new box, and it's up on my desk, in easy access, and those drunken fuckheads could have arranged something. If not, well, Sing it again. Seriously, I did not wrong him, I made a simple request, and no one at all was willing to help me. It would not have been hard.
Let me get this straight: somehow these people were thinking they could live in my house, and just... send me to jail and ignore me? Huh. That seems strange. Where do they think that they get off? Oh, right, little thuggie piggies. I guess they thought they were in charge, and that my health and concerns thereof did not matter. Well, guess what: I matter. I gave them 11 weeks, and then had their asses tossed out.
When I come in, I find my nebulizer, easily located. They didn't even try. They were content to leave me completely alone, without any assistance from people who could have been told one thing ("terrible accident") and the other, which come to find out was, ("Fuck that guy! We got his house! Yay!").
So. I have my house. I have my nebulizer. I'm not sure what to do yet, but I did do a great job in the first week of June, which I had decided was gonna be the start of my own investigation. The County got six months, and they didn't seem to do much beyond... well, not much. However within 7 days of decided to start it up, I figured out more information about what has been going on than anyone had told me before.
So, basically, I'm going to have you all boiled in oil. Now, I know what you're thinking, and I don't care. I want to have you all tarred and feathered as well, but, with the price of goosedown, forget it. It's not worth it. And I don't know why there is so much ATTENTION paid to my circumstance... IN THE WRONG AREA, but, here we are.
I'm the fucking victim here. These fucking thug DEA cunts are busily imagining that they're taking my house--hey, well, I did see that one coming. I didn't know that Grapefruit was going to be that stupid, but, I don't actually know. She might be the smartest woman in the world!!! *polite cough* well, who knows. Because until I find out how it came to be the case that someone didn't think I needed help in the first six months of the year, and how any of you think that I deserved to have this bullshit go down, I guess that the answer is that you heard about it in your Podbean meeting, which, I am sure, was a delightful time for everyone, and I am glad, so glad, SO SO GLAD that I missed it.
Because none of you knew what you were doing, you lied to me, you lied to Grapefruit, and God only knows who else. And as a result, well, Christmas is canceled and I'm gonna baptise the Grinch with my urine. Yep. Gonna drench that green little fuck with my own piss.
And for whatever reason, I am being -investigated- by -Serious Investigators.- Which is kinda nice, honestly. Who knows what is to come? Prosperity, if one asks me. And I would have been a little closer, if any of you were even the least little bit less of a gang of fuckin' retards than you seem to be in this moment.
Your collective judgement in this case has been... poor. Now, I didn't think I'd have anything more to say tonight, however, new information has come to light, and I wished to put it here so I could refer back to it in the future. "Oh, yeah, I remember that... that's when Bonus Round really started hip-hop-happening!" Also, I established dominance.
I rather thought I had done that before, but with Ensouled Pate tromping around here now, Hi Pate! Go show your soul to Keith, why don't you?
Look, he's trying to argue. See? He's got a soul now. Come on. Once more: with feeling. Yeah, I can't hear it either. Oh well. Maybe a third or a fifth testicle needs to drop. Try putting a quarter in him.
