Jeff doesn't exist: he's a shemp for Erik and Benjamin and Ben and at least two Daves (hi David!) and by swiping my Samsung Infuse 4G unique identifier and then bricking it, a Synthetic Personal Identity was created off the framework of my life. This is what all the “thou shall not pass or mingle!!” control drama sperg comes from, and it's why I'm supposed to not be visible.
Because my actual existence conflicts with whatever nonsense ballyhoo you mooks have been getting up to for multiple years. I'm not even against what is being done, maybe; although I resent being kept forever in the dark. We're talking years, you fucking psychotic fucking freaks. It's simply not very well done, has created security vulnerabilities across multiple vectors, and the entire breadline notion, “oh everyone will just blame Incel >Ⓜ️K7U©ZÎ,” yeah, well, no. Not looking real plausible.
JACK@TRIOPTIMUM.COM
The lengths gone to in order to do this are truly pathological (>kudos), amount to major felony interstate wire fraud and bickety-bam, there's your Federal R.I.C.O. jurisdiction, and did you expect to catch Girl Blofeld and Blond Jane Bond? I don't think anyone thought this through, and to what end has been gained? Further, I don't know who is the Orchestrator of Billious Loathing but someone is full-on unhinged over me. (That's the training.)
Sure, I am that pretty. But, 🤔 am I that effective? Hey, here's an idea: give me another house and I'll take a few months to reassess. ALL OF ALL Y'ALL NEED AN EXIT STRATEGY. I would prefer to not have to turn this into a public carnival. I'm also opposed to becoming an accessory to crime.
Unbalanced and excessive risk-taking is part of the design spec when imgesting mil.spec.fuk.mE.stims. It's the amygdala being “hide, fear, secret” mode. The whole brain’s nerve net is affected in dramatically different ways than is, say for example, A NATIONAL TREASURE AND WHOOP-ASS ACTUAL HERO, WHO FOLLOWS THE LAW INSTEAD OF CRINGING FROM IT IN FEAR.
Nothing feels as good as freedom from harassment by oinkerton thugs grubbing for lunch money under false color of law. Step off, Carrie Smokey Nation.
I have no reason to play along or to, in fact, succumb to substance dependency. There's so many other ways I enjoy spending my time, like: mocking scrubs who think they know what is best for other people. Pro tip: YOU JUST LIKE CAUSING CATASTROPHIC SOCIAL COLLAPSE. No shame in it. A bankable skill.
Pairs well with the ability to stand elsewhere than the path of an oncoming train. CHOO-CHOO 🥰
Anywhoo: back to Jeff. Dude, I don't give a fuck about your collective sperg-a-pockalips. You pushed your schtick over the shark. IDGAF where it comes from, someone is getting me my money, my tools, my mail (WHO STEALS MAIL FOR OVER A DECADE? WHACK-JOB CUBICLE ÜBERNERDS, THAT'S WHO), fucking goddam everything, I shouldn't even have to ask, you klepto gasbag pinko Commie swine. Get in the helicopter; go up 500 ft; get out of the helicopter; AND WATCH ME FELLATE PINOCHET ON THE WAY DOWN YOU HEIFER-CHASING POTTY MOUTH TWERPTWAT;
BECAUSE I SAID SO, THAT'S WHY. It's not supposed to be pleasant. Do it anyway or face reprisals, one of which will be being forced to do it anyway. I don't know the details. I have people for that.
Not getting any younger here, Rape Captain. Get those little legs moving and hustle! Hey, here's an idea; coordinate a blitzkrieg on Podbean.
And then: IDGAF, just throw money at me until I I'm ready to wonder if I'm satisfied. Or whatever. Death threats getting old. OK Boomer, holy fuck, just how old are you twerps? cozlik y'all act like you're fucking EIGHT, FUCK!
