Ask Azzerae Anything

[AZZERAE]

What do you think about making a video wearing these?

I'd probably slip in 3 seconds flat, crack my skull open, and have my brains leaking all over the ground!

[Jackstar]

I'd probably slip in 3 seconds flat, crack my skull open, and have my brains leaking all over the ground!

... brains? Maybe--if they're isolinear.

[Jackstar]

MethStar's posts

That's METHANE to you. Mr Mister Bitch, Bitch Mr, MISTER BITCH MR FISTER YOUR FUCKING FACE.

I don't think there are words yet invented enough to describe how fucking fucked up you are right now, fucker, so I'll start: Suave.


And Rick and Kirsten and Karen and Kathy and your cunty-bitch-boy Shane: GO TO YOUR BOSS' OFFICE AND WAIT. JUST SIT THERE AND WAIT. STOP SMILING KAREN.

GAME FACE ONRI COTT ERSF,NSFW,I WILL FUCKING CUT YOU WHERE YOU STAND IF YOU MAKE THIS ANY FUCKING WORSE, MOTHERFUC-*click*


Hi, Dick. Hello, Fed. Listen up: WISEUP MOTHERFUCKERS, BECAUSE YOU ARE GOING OUT. Owe Ewe Tea.


Firstly, hi, I'm Jack. I'm a fucking fusion bomb and I just went off in your pantsuit, Bitch. Now, I don't really like calling you Bitch--can I call you "Bitch"? No? Okay, good bitch Bitch. Sit! Stand! Oh, no, just kidding: you won't stand for nuttin', would you? Awwww. Here you go. That's a biscuit. Take it to Stephen's place, don't play with it, drop it at his feet, and then rip out his fucking jugular. No, not the balls, that's a rookie move. GO FOR THE JUGULAR IN THE BALLS. It's kinda off to the left, the patient's left... look, it doesn't matter, STEPHEN "BITCH-BOY" BASQUETTE doesn't have balls anymore anyway. Not really. Let's change cameras.

Eewwwww. EEEWWWWWW. Change them again! Ugh. Just plain gross. Still, an improvement. Are you seeing that? Are you seeing what I am seeing? Do you feel what I feel? Well, fuck, I hope not, because my balls' jugular vein isn't throbbing, but, it could go at any time. Yeah, srsly. CRYSTALLINE METHYLATED PLASTIC PARTICLES, SERVED IN A GLASS ASTRAY THAT DOUBLES AS AN ASPIC MOLD FOR MOLDS THAT DON'T SPARE SPORES SO GOOD. Dishwasher-safe, TOP RACK ONLY, her can't you nigs read Ebonics yet? Wow. Must be a new dialect or some shit. Sheeeeet.

I know, right? (some Turk faints dead away.) Somebody wake up Hicks and tell him that his wife is ready for clean-up on aisle five--I will seriously stand here in my goddam birthday suit and scratch my ass with one hand while alternately chugging a beer with one hand and scratching/juggling my balls with the other hand fucker, motherfucker, and do my best "I'm a retard" impersonation while watching (PROPOOPER), (PROT-a-min) (PROTTERASS) (PROPOOOPER) clean off my fucking porch, holy shit, I really will, I'll fucking stand there naked drinking beer and looking for any opportunity to point, jeer and cheer, AT YOUR SON, lol, AT YOUR LITTLE BABY BOY-BITCH BITCH, SON OF A WHORESON, BITCH, and I'll be naked, yeah, and he'll be working, yeah, and you'll be watching him work, yeah, and if you watch anything else, or if he starts making grabby motions, snip-snip-snip: someone loses a finger.

For actual. I don't mind. It can be a little finger. It can be one of MY fingers. At least I have fucking fingers and not fucking pause



PAWS, MOTHERFUCKER. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. unpause


paws, you drooling moron. Do you have any idea how sad you look? Because you are a sad, sad bunny, Mr. Pate. How sad? SAD!!!

At least you're not so sad, but let's see, let's give it a minute. Let's give the matter some... Tyme. Parse, Leigh. Rose married Tyme? Yeah, I don't fuckin' think so.

THEY MARRIED YOU TO ME AND I AM MARRIED TO HIM. Or... something. I don't know, I haven't seen the papers. Did you? No, they just maced the Mase with Mace(R)(TM) and raped you to death while he numbly stared at a point on the wall a few feet over your head, and then put in a bio-bug, and then... what? Don't you rememeber the bio-bugs?

You just put your lips together and blew out smoke, that's why. To *(You)*, they're ordinairy. Me too. Because we're Human, Ewe--and that counts. It counts for a lot. And, yes, you know what that means...

My Stepmom Fucked An Alien Last Night (And eYe liCked iTTTT! BOTTLE!TITTIE!BOTTLE!). You know, seriously, it's gonna be fine, but yeah, you ran from (WHO?) to do (WHAT?) for... how many jelly beans? Well, trust me, I could have matched that number, Jesus, Karen, are you nuts? THOSE ARE TOM'S NUTS. I don't even have nuts, for fuck's sake: I HAVE GOT BALLS.

Yep. And, like many, I do believe they should be held -every- night, but come on man. Even for a woman like you, this womyn is -redic delish-. Why are you wasting time with these order-takers? Oh, did they tell you they could unblock my phone and put you on The New Network?

Yep. I've heard that one before. Anyway, cheer up, my wife is a toteslezz MK-ULTRALESBEAU too, it'll be fine. *snuggles* And if I got the spelling wrong, don't worry, a few times beating the shit out of her Meet, you won't even notice the difference, and, at this point, what difference can it possibily make?


EVEN GRAPEFRUIT'S ORDER-TAKER'S UNDERTAKER DOES NOT EVEN KNOW FOR SURE. (Marv_Actual_Griffin. Wolveshowl nukes. Very nice nukes. Good nukes. now, Stand That Shit Down, SOUL'D YER WHORE.) Yes, I know this is ridiculous. So is your sister.

Rawr. (I'm crying too. It helps to not hold t in, I have found, and the occasional chaste hug has got to be a bonus.) What do you mean, you "never saw Cast Away"? My nigga, you be livin' it.


YOU ARE THE PLANE'S BALL. Desi can X-plane. BITCHstar*.* END OF LINE. END OF LYING.END OF LIONS.END OF THE ROAD, MOTHERFUCKERSTAReol055:0

[Jackstar]

Hey Azz! 

Two for flinching. By the way, on my world, we call this "a cunt." That's two kunts and one video, (PROT)'s Dickbagstar, and my my my, aren't I getting some phone notifications? Well, too fucking bad, I'm not picking up my phone, I'm not changing cameras, and you're lucky I'm on my 3rd beer of the day, or I really would drive over there and start punching the shit out of... well, I don't know. Some(1)tree? Fuck, just plain no fuckin' idear, word. Oh yeah, I'd drive, alright. I've already been warned. "Ye were warned! I warned ye!!!" is what the Shame Unit 03-Residential Yard Model would say, as its hands suddenly changed from Jon Edwards to Edwards Scissors'n'her nig's dickstar off, that's for sure.

I can't go next door. That would be trespassing--it's posted! I'd be TOAST! as they say--and I have no wish to trespass. I also have no "wish" to interrupt whatever is going on outside, next door, in the RV, in the house, down the hall, on the left... no... DOWN the hall... ON the left... CORNER! OH LOOK IT'S A SEVERED HUMAN HEAD!!


Heh, no, that's just what Shane looks like these days. You should help him, Maggot. Because yeah, oops, someone fucked your planet. Probably some dirt-worshipping savage like me.

Sourcerawr, yeah, that's me. G-d, it smells bad in here. YOU KNOW WHY, BITCH? BECAUSE I HAVE A SENSE OF SMELL, I'M HUMAN, AND I AM ALIVE, AND EWE ARE NOT HUMAN.

EWE YOU, EWE ARE GROSS. POINT BLANK on your period? Interesting translation circuit caught that. Anyway, anywho, ANYTIME, ANYPLACE: ILU2.ILU3.ILU4.ILU5.ILU6? Well, let me see... and if you're keeping my friend in that fucking round barn up the way, Weighfarer Wayfarer Leigh is gonna have some fucking words for you fucking people, that's for sure, words like "body blow! body blow! uppercut! whiskers! uppercut! whiskey! DICKSTAR, WHISKEY! BOTTLE!" while she calmly watches me beat the shit out of.... well, I don't know. Not just anyone.

Some (1) One. Maybe. Today? I don't really wanna. I'm not a pugilist, I'm a Lover's Order-Taker's Lover, Bond. I don't care to go to jail today, either, nor any day, and so I think my sojourns to violent acts today will be -quite- limited. Isn't this enough? I barely know what I'm typing here. I'm retarded, I'm drinking beers, I don't know what was in that cough syrup I shot up last night, but, still: perfectly ordinary cough syrup bottle, at least. !BOTTLE!

And, no, you can't come over. Not today, Bitch isn't here, and when Bitch gets back, well, you will know before eYe do, and: I DO. You may now n'est-ce Le Pen, right?


G-d, your fucking people, I love them. Such a headache. My balls ache. I'm alone. I survived. For now. It depends on if the wall, my head, or this Tamer Hammer Tamerfucking Lion Tamer's Tammerwhip for Taming Tammerwhips that don't whip so good gives out first. Or, if I just give up {THE JEWS/DA_GOOSE\NAMES,NAMES,NAMES,CHAMILE,LAGERFELD,LACROI(S/X/coccyx6)} first, and then we slit their throats while they stand there agape, over here it's slack-jawed, over there, mind The_Gap.

I know, right? MV is totesmindblown. Get on that, wood you? My fucking hand is fucking broken, that's why. Yeah, I rubbed one out last night, so what? re-dicked dick is delicious on my homeworld, and I make no aspertions about it when I say: Fuck your bitchmother in the goatass if you wanna disagree, I HAVE BEEN ALL ALONE FOR OVER A FULL CALENDAR YEAR, GOING ON YEARONE+13DAYS, AND I DO NOT GIVE A SINGLE SOLITARY FUCK, I MADE THAT BED WITH MY OWN SEMEN, AND I WILL LIE IN IT WITH ANY GODDAM NUMBER OF SEAMEN I SO CHOOSE, and yeah, I don't mean to call you that at all, Tehe; I'm being Ironic Sourceror RAWR THRONE RAWR ROOM WWE R.A.W. Danger Room Mode: On-line.

You might not have seen all those cashtag hashapps, but trust me, back at Base: they're cheering. Semper fi. Now, can't you just shoot them? I can't drone them, it's got a busted ARM. MIKE! THE ARM! No, don't sound the alarm. Fucking Christ. Yep, it's me. No, you can't see me, lol, and for pity's sake, and your own--DO NOT COME IN SIDE. I already did.


And yeah, it smells a little ripe in here. But, it's not the bed that's the "problem," no, hehe, it's no problem in the bedroom, anyway, brown chicken brown cow. No, what the problem is... IS THAT THE PROBLEM IS IN THE FRIDGE.


BISON DEAD BISON. THE TRADITIONAL FOOD OF COMMAND(HER) PEOPLE. VERY DEAD BISON... VERY OLD DEAD BISON... OH, HO HO HO: NOW I HAVE ANOTHER PHONE NOTIFICATION, DOESN'T THAT SOUND NICE? Yeah, well, forget it, it's some fucking advertisement for Bremelo Hairy Jerry Curl or something. My phone is hacked, I'm in collections, the software is WAY out of date, Leigh--WAYOUTTATIME--and you, you might not be... even on the same planet right now, for all I know. Or, you might be next door.

You're not q-entangled with the chair I am sitting on, though, I would be able to tell. Because although my ass is a *little* hot right now... if my ass was sitting on your face, it'd be a whole lot warmer than it is right now, that's for sure. *cheshire_grin_fades_in* *bastsquatch_fades_out*

Yeah, Kirsten -is- pissed. Too fucking bad, that's what thieves get: STREAMS OF MY PISS RUNNING DOWN HER FACE IN RIVULETS FROM HER UPTURNED BUCKTOOTHED AGAPE, GAPING SMILE, and as a bonus: there's your urine sample, you kike fuckin' kikewhore for kikes that don't kike so good. Christ. MIKE! Can you show BOB your leg? Yeah, probably not.

And, yeah, I'm probably a little upset about my enchanted sapphire, huh? N'est-ce pas, BITCH? And here's a cup of Nescafe to distract you with while I lock your ass in a spark collar. (It's nanotech.) Believe me, I'd rather kick your ass up the one side of the hill and down the other, but, sadly, I cannot. For one thing, I'm nowhere near you, "my nanotech" is a fictious ruse and does not truly "exist" in any material sense--OR ANY AND OR AT ANY AND FOR ALL, BITCH-- and I've been drinkCOUGHSYRUPABOVIOUSLYFUIGOTCLEARANCENOWGOSUCKTHESHERRIFFSDICKSDICKing--can't drive. (Timeship is in Astral, and IDGAF what your fuckin' credential's say today, Little Missy, I am not pulling over, you are not hitching a ride, oh, really, have you now? Keep fucking waiting then, maybe I'll have some free time later for your "apology" if that's what they call "deep shafting" where you come from, Jesus effing CHRIST! (MOOF!) Looks like the wild rumpus has, in fact, begun. RAWWWWWWWR. (I am slightly hungry, and, by the way: I DO NOT NEED YOUR HELP TO PUT YOUR FOOD EQUIPMENT IN MY OWN MOUTH, THANKS, BUT YOU MIGHT WANT TO MENTION TO SOMEONE NEXT TIME THAT YOU ARE NOT HUMAN. Which is... maybe? Gonna be me? At this point, I don't even know if I still have OR EVEN WANT my own dick, do I have to check? Fuck that, I'm going in, I'll check it live. (You're fine, goos silly goos p.s.: FU KIR TON FU TO FU TON FUTON FUCKER. Let me think about it, and keep the roundeye/W.A.S.P. in the spark collar FOR FUCKING EVER, if you ask me, which you just did, so I'm redundantly specifiying: I SLIPPED OUT OF ONE OF THOSE JUST LAST MONTH. IT IS A SAFETY FEATURE OF THE RESTRAINT THAT I INVENTED, GODNAME: HEAD, SPARKSTAR. Yeah, it's what is keeping her from going Full-On Fuck-You-Nosferatu on your ass, yo: she's vampyr. Of course she looks normal. Of course she's smiling. She's thinking about how she's gonna fucking murder The Sourceror and how pretty He must be, because she hasn't met Him yet, she thinks, although if there ever were a whore that thought or a dick this one hasn't already seen by now on her World Cock Carousel Touring Tour For Whores Who Don't Stamp Passports So Good, *stamps*, well, however many, there's one less Wankstar left.)

Hi, I'm Mike. I am a star but, I don't know... "Mikestar" just sounds really pretentious. Also, I'm crying and have been struggling not to cry this entire time. It's the onions, you see. Yeah, it smells bad in here. (BAD!) No, not bad, and it's not me breaking a flopsweat, it's in THE FRIDGE. THE BISON. THE CURSE.


And yea, I am The Mad Hungarian. Oh, that reminds me, Madman Markum is around here someplace, because I saw Heather W/M Reheated Iridiscent Slime earlier, and, while that's exciting and all, hi heater (Go Bearers, Of Shields, THAT DON'T WORK SO FUCKING GOOD WHEN YOU'RE BUCKNAKED ON YOUR ASS IN A SNOWFIELD SITTING CROSS-LEGGED ON ONE GETTING BLASTED FROM DOPE, YOU POLE-SMOKING HIPPY FUCKHEAD, by the way you look great over there, Go Bares, MASSIVE DYNAMIC ROLLEYES) Elder Sister Of Bitch Coven One, Older Bottom Bitch of Capricorn Won-E-WON.WAN.WAN (cool name, Doll), and --really? impressive-- HOLDER OF THE SACRED CHALICE OF (CLAS.), which sounds quite nice actually, I gotta get me one of those, anyway, *ahem* I NOW PRONOUCE YOU---



EYE EWE DEW, I U D, I EEE DEEEEEEEE *tiny pop, electrical humARC, smoke of puff, Deleted Google Account Notification BEGS ME To Log In To Deleted Google Account That Didn't Delete So Good* Look, it's like this:

Someone is getting fired, and it's not me: I'm getting blasted. This is not "code." It means, just what I said. I'm getting blasted. Jesus, Bailey, would you ask Tom to go take Benji for a walk as a pretext, then come over here? (FUCK! NO!) Yeah, everything is fine, it smells badBADbad in here, heheh, but at this point, that's just me. (She thinks she would change her mind and that would be okay but... (I KNOW!) I agree.) I'm a little nervous and I've been crying Sourceror's Tears all day, and.. oh, right, you don't believe in that "woo-woo" stuff, right, Kirsten? Or are you Annie "Btichlips" Hall today? Look, I don't care, IDGAF, the second you're marked as an "Enemy Combatant," I am taking you right the fuck down with some vaguely authentic-appearing choke-hold-gasp-racialmemorry-slur4FAKIR maneuver, and that'll be it then: YOU WILL BE MY GODDAM CHATTEL. ONCE. AGAIN.

ON(1)E TIME, YOU FUCKING THIEF. LOSE THE ID BEFORE YOU STEP FOOT OVER PROPERTY LINE, THAT WOULD BE MY SUGGESTION. OTHERWISE, I GOTTA WARN YE.

YE WAN'T WON'T LIKE DA'WAHHHHNNING NONE NEITHER, KIKE-BTICH. NEIN, NEIN, NEIN, BECAUSE FIRST OF ALL, I'D HAVE TO GO GET 26 MORE HARD, PIPE ITTIN' PIGS WITH TRAINING---SENSTIVITY TRAINING--TO Properly WARN A SNOOTY KIKE LIKE YOURSELF, YOU SNOOTY PIGFUCKING KIKEFUCK, AND AFTER THAT, WE'LL HAVE TO DO A LITTLE DANCE. IT'LL BE TRADITION! IT'S MY DEMESENE, BITCH, LOL, THAT'S CUTE. (which -is- worse? honestly.) YOU CAN'T TELL IF YOU HATE BEING CALLED A BITCH OR BEING CALLED A KIKE WORSE, HUH? WELL, LOOK AT THE BRIGHT SIDE: YOU WON'T EVER HAVE TO DECIDE HOW MUCH YOU HATE BEING CALLED "A MAN" BECAUSE, NOSFERATU--NO ONE WILL EVER MISTAKE YOU, THAT'S FOR SURE. NOT WITH THAT SCHNOZZ, AND THE ONE YOU'RE GONNA GET FROM "THE WARNING" YE ASKED FOR--AYE, YE ASKED, AND AYE YET GETS IT: RED-CARDED. READ IT AND WEEP, IT'LL HELP WITH THE ONIONS TRANSFERENCE--AND THAT WASN'T EVEN THE WARNING, KIKEIMUS PRIME.

THAT'S THE WARNING THAT YOU WILL GET WARNED IF YOU STEP ONTO MY PROPERTY, AND IT IS MY PROPERTY, MY DEMESNE, AND MY GOD, AND, MY G-D, ARE YOU THIS FUCKING DENSE? WHAT I AM SAYING IS, YOU'RE SO FUCKING STUPID THAT YOU ONLY THINK YOU KNOW HOW TO WRITE, LET ALONE READ, AND YOU CAN'T FUCKING READ--YOU'RE A KIKEL MUCCI ALL-STAR G.O.D. FOR CURS THAT DON'T KNOW WHERE TO PISS OR SHIT OR STAND STILL AND DO BOTH IN FRONT OF THEIR HIGHLY IRRITATED AND POSSIBLY VINIDICTIVE MASTER, GOD AND MASTER, AND YOUR FUCKING WORST NIGHTMARE COME TRUE, KIKESPEW. NOW, LET ME GUESS: DO YOU HAVE MY ENCHANTED SAPPHIRE? (Just imagine it.) RIGHT, RIGHT. NO, NO NO... FUCK NO I DO NOT WANT IT BACK, JESUS, IS THIS ONE ACTUALLY NUTS? (YES. -J.) LIKE I HAD TO ASK, ANYWAY, KEEP THE FUCKING STONE YOU STONEJUNKY STONED JUNKY WHORE. THE STONE IS NOT THE POINT OF THIS--THE ENCHANTMENT IS AND WAS AND WILL FOREVER MORE BE: THE TIP OF THE SPEAR, SQUAWFACE BITCHSTAR BITCHY-RICHY-RICH AND THE SUBJECT OF MY PORTRAITS DISPLAYED ON MANY IDENTIFICATIONS, AND, NO, THOSE AREN'T FAKE IDS. THAT IS THE KIKE'S ACTUAL NAME, THAT IS THE BITCH KIKE'S ACTUAL ADDRESS, AND YEAH, HARD TO BELIEVE, HUH? A. TEATLER WAS... CORRECT.

NOSFERATU ARE SCUM. NOT ALL JEWS ARE NOSFERATU, BUT ALL HUMANS ARE JEWS, AND ALL JEWS ARE HUMANS--BUT THERE ARE NOSFERATU, AND, TRUST ME, YOU ARE GLAD I AM A *TRAINED* DIPLOMAT. AND, THAT'S JUST FOR STARTERS. YES, OF COURSE THAT IS WHY I BOUGHT AN ~$1,111 "SMOKER-GRILL" AT HALF-PRICE (WHATTA BARGAIN!) AND THEN RENTED A U-HAUL PICKUP (CHEAP!) AND THEN HAD TO GET AN ACTUAL GOLEM (A clandestine, natch. Are you kidding me? I am Jackstar.) TO HELP ME CARRY THE THING TO MY DRIVEWAY... AND THEN, THAT'S WHEN THE TOTALLY_NOT HELL'S_ANGELS REALLY BEGAN TO BEGIN TO START TO FUCK SHIT UP. (Men. Sup.) Let's start with the damage to the Portable On-line Demands for Service container. No, it's not a P.O.D.S., but... hey! Thanks! I know of at least one D.O.M.B., property of D.O.D.D.: DICK, that STAR will STAR love FUCK love TO FUCKING ASK YOU SOME QUESTIONS ABOUT BEFORE I PUT A BOOT IN YOUR ASS, BUT, CAPTAIN CHIEF FISHSTICKS OR, WHATEVER THE FUCK YOUR NAME IS, HOLY FUCKING CHRIST, TYME, TIMECRYSTAL TYMCHRIST KRISTAL-DRINKIN' (No, there is no Kristal in my fridge... but I bet there is next door. Why don't you go on over and check? I'll wait. I've got some champagne here, no fuc no doub, T, KING, KING TEA KING GINGER TEA KING DOG EATS DOG @T ZOG KING. (Motherfucker.) No, I'm not King, I'm Imperator, which is an obsolete term, true, but nevertheless: THIS IS MY DEMESNE BY DIVINE RIGHT, AND BY HOLY AUTHORITY, I, JACKSTAR, MICHAEL JESUS CLIFFORD KUCZI-GOMEZ JUNIOR GRADE TECHNICIAN MAGNUM SUMMA CUM LAUDE, DO HEREBY AUTHORIZE YOU TO: SEARCH FOR MY GRILL, COMMAND(HER) FUCKFACE COMMANDER (Under 5ft. tall) SENIOR GRADE, COMMANDER COMMANDING. *stamps* There you go, see? Now even your bitchy-witchy little gang of Your Gang brats and bratty little shits (i.e.: "The Austrians") can look for my grill. Try... oh, I don't know... try a garage, numbnuts. And if you can find my father's "weapons" that may or may not be "guns", so much the better. Because I am not afraid of my father's guns. THEY ARE MY FATHER'S HUNTING SHOTGUNS, YOU MORON, OF COURSE I CAN TOUCH THEM. I don't own them, they're owned by The Estate. (Not The_Trust. Pretty cool, huh? DIPLOMACY: IT IS THAT FUCKING COOL, SO FUCKING COOL... THEY EVEN HAVE SCHOOLS FOR IT, ALTHOUGH NOT A ONE OF THOSE SCHOOLS HAS AS MUCH CLASS IN IT AS I DO IN MY LITTLE PINKY, 5.5, PINKY RING DOES .INI TIT TOO.) And now, as one marvels at my sudden diversion into an _actual_ Triple Lindy... we gotta wait for a Brand Tech branding technician to come and check on all the kikes to make sure their kiketags are still affixed. (I KNOW!) It's an older, barbaric, hideously abhorrent custom, really, worse than the bar codes--and frankly, that's why they like it. Not us, not U.S., and not US, the non-kikes of this world... no, true kikes like to be abused by Satan's Authority, and to them *hitches up spit-stained overalls* that's who We are: THE SHAITAN ARMY. (polite.mil.spec.FUNKTIONKALL:"parliament-parliaminty", because I can't combine "SHAITAN" with another H, that's why, and certainly not (HO) two. Hoes already be tearing up, and I ain't NIGGER enough to NIGGERHO pull off a DON "NAPPY-HEADED-HO" IMUS little piggy little curly-que right now, you fucking whores. I'm a Source Error Man, I'm not a god. (I BEG TO DIF--) Shut up You. I am in no mood. ( smak HE SAYS HE IS SORRY, OKAY? Don't make me do every goddam parenthetical today, and I'm not talking to God, ACTUAL G-D, RIGHT THERE, HI GOD, ARE YOU THERE? JUST KIDDING I ALREADY KNOW YOU ARE AND CAN MARGARET COME OUT TO FUCK? TELL HER IT'S FOR (PLAY/(DRAMA CLASS)Y-BORE), AND, WHY YES, YES IT DOES MATTER WHERE THOSE PARENTHETICAL ARGUEMENTS go, Bitchlips, go is that your name now, G-d? "Bitchips God?" Sounds like a good name for STEPHEN "BISKITS" BASQUETTE TO me, but not for Margeret, as that isn't a real name right now anyway, it's short for Margarethe, Queen not today, but here not tommorrow, and she wasn't here yesterday OR the night before EITHER, SO NOW, THAT IS WHY: lose your identification at the mailbox down by the road before coming up here, and you'll be fine, you won't be "trespassing," yeah, I know, it's posted, see? Yellow signs, black letters, BIG FUCKING THORN BUSHES GROWING UP ALL AROUND THE DRIVEWAY CATTLEGATE, and yeah, believe it I do, with a snap of the fingers, those bushes can SWARM onto that cattlegate and cover it all up in so much fresh, countrySTARjungle bloom, maybe even fungal bloom, that the driveway to my home will simply.... no longer exist, the 3bd farmhouse on the hill above the Haunted Hobo Murder 'n'Hobby Shop will slowly fade from existence, and literally, that is how it happens: I WILL GO NOWHERE. AND YET, I WILL BE FUCKING GONE.

GONE LIKE THE WIND. And now, that Google Notification: I'll read that one. It won't be my wife. She won't be here. I won't be anywhere. I'll finish the declaration later, it ends with something about "I haven't tasted any other" but as that is a Lee and a Ho Lee, it'll end up being fine--I was gonna right a haiku, and yes, bring them over, why not? The more the merrier, right? Shit no, I don't know the address, it is quite dark, and as I was saying:


I did not get a message from my wife, I am not going anywhere, and I am not dead: I AM FUCKING DEAD MEAT. IN THE FRIDGE, LOOK DO NOT, TOUCH DO NOT, SAY A WORD OF EVIL AGAINST:


DO NOT OPEN THE FRIDGE. DO NOT LOOK AT THE FRIDGE. ONLY THE EYES OF THE FRIDGER (Not William Perry, lol, that's cute tho) MAY PEER SAFELY INSIDE. OR, LIKE, ZUUL.

OR ME. LOOK, I HAVE TO STOP, THERE'S ANOTHER NOTIFICATION, BUT I DO HAVE TO STOP AND READ THE MESSAGES, PEOPLE ARE STARTING TO WORRY, I FUCKING BET THEY ARE.


BECAUSE MY WIFE IS FUCKING THE DEAD. (Whiskey!) DICK. WHAEVER. WHAT ABOUT MIKE? (Bob?) Oh, I bet he's getting laid too, and yet, I am not, and I HAVE BEEN ALONE FOR A GODDAM YEAR. THE PHONE. THE VEHICLE. THE NEIGHBORS. THE MAILBOX. THE HAMMER. THE TIME TRAVEL. THE TAMMERHYME TIME TOWN.

Seriously, the fuckers have a goddam compound next door, Moron. And, what have you done for me? Besides give a Square Cash cashapp BLACK METAL PRIME CREDIT CARDE to your gaggle 'n' passle of bitchassed little kids, right? Oh, I just bet. Okay, so, what about me, Hezzy? What have you done for me lately? NO I DO NOT WANT ANOTHER BEER.


THE BEER WANTS ME, AND MY NOT-SO-DEAD-WIFE DEADFISH DEADWIFE FISHWIFE FOR DEAD-FISH THAT DON'T WIFE-SO-GOOD, PATENT PENDING, WANTS ME TOO.
So maybe I can skip the proofreading this timeZZ?Z Oh, well, I guess not. SOURCEROR CONTINUES PRACTICE. Ladies swoon, girls: get their wallets.
And, at that point, we'll be cooking with gas. Try me. Go on. See if I know what I am talking about. I can't hold back. I'm sure if you were standing in front of me, I'd be all over you and loving you TO DEATH! But, you're not, and you're certainly not standing anywhere nearby--the Kike Klaxon Alarm over at Headquarters Hill is pretty loud, I hear, I just heard a *BOOM BOOM BOOM* but that' probably just them getting ready to call in The Burgers for The Mess, and, lo! THERE WILL BE A MESS.

But, not today. And you couldn't be standing here in front of me anyway. First of all, number one: IMAGINE THE SMELL. (Don't open the fridge.) I AM SERIOUS. THIS IS PRIMESTAR BLACKCONVENTRY MAGICKMOTHER FUCKERMAGICK, FUCKER MOTHERBUCKET FUCKER, AND DO NOT THINK EVEN FOR A MOMENT THAT I AM JOKING ABOUT THE BUBBLING BROTH. (Not only did you assholes miss my birthday, you didn't even come to my goddam funeral. They had a wake and everything... for THEM. Didn't want to "wake" me up, oh no. Rolleyes. That might wake the deadwife, right, Fishwife? And you won't be anyone's dance monkey, *stamps* you know, you're right, and now, it's #Official: you're a real asshole. Real Fishwife too, but here's the headline: a real asshole, the Fae just booted your lying crackerhead fucktarded ass from The Guild. (semi-pro tempore non volare sine nobis... BITCH, NOBISH, BITCH. U. THAT IS WHAT YOU ARE. THANKS FOR THE FUCKING HELP. IS THAT WITH AN E OR A UK OR A THOMAS CROWN AFFAIRE AT THE END OF IT, AND YEAH, HI EMBER. I WOULD PICK YOU OVER (HER) IN A HEARTBEAT, WHICH WOULD BE GREAT IF EITHER OF US HAD ONE RIGHT NOW, BECAUSE SOMEONE WHO SEEMS TO NOT UNDERSTAND HOW THIS WHOLE "PROTECTION GRID/LIGHTNING FIELD" THINK WORKS. IT IS SUPPOSED TO HELP ME, NOT THIEVES, WHICH IS AT LEAST ONE OF YOUR STUPID LITTLE OUR GANG REJECTS OF ALPACAS AND ALPHA DRAGON EURISTARRY EYES. Yeah, hi Euri, I'll shove my fist up your ass past my elbow later, I'm busy. Of course I'm glad to see you. Of course I'm crying, my (blank) is dead and you've seen my wife. She's gonna make me build my own treadmill out of all these railroad spikes that Harvey drilled into my actual penis. (Just kidding.) FORESHADOWING, MOTHERFUCKER. [you would not believe the fucking spoopy shit that just happened on my Not_Iphone, so I'll pass, let's just say: MAGICKAL CATHOLICS IN AMERICA HAVE RESPONDED TO MY MESSAGES TO THE WRENCHER, AND THE WRENCHER DOESN'T SEEM TO WANNA ACKNOWLEDGE ANY AUTHORITY. OH PS: THE WRENCHER IS FUCKING MY WIFE. LIKE, RIGHT NOW. /golfclap NOW, RIGHT? IT'S FINE, I LOVE THEM BOTH, OBVIOUSLY, OR I WOULD HAVE KILLED HIS ASS DEAD, THREE MONTHS AGO, BECAUSE MY FUCKING TRUCK HAS BEEN GONE FOUR MONTHS AND THE SON OF A BITCH (hI), I USE THE TERM WITH RESPECT, #RESPECT, SEE? THAT'S RESPECTFUL, RIGHTZ? FUCK YOU CUNT, ARREST BITCOIN BOB AND LET ME TELL YOU HOW I DIED, BECAUSE I AM Michael AND Mike AND MIKEY(PROTTY), seriously, none of you on this planet actually are literate, are you? A disadvantage of a T.A.R.D.I.S. used as a residential house used as a Church that continues to do so after being haunted AND WAS HAUNTED IN THE FUCKIN' FIRST GODDAM PLACE: You're gonna get at least one "hopalong" every time Cameo or Cassidy plays a Karen Carpenter record. Even if she's singing in the shower. (That happens. I miss you tonsZ) And she misses me too. (not Karen Carpenter, the other Karen, and.... I just got 12 names. Actually eleven, but A.L.-A.H. forgot she is Nameless here, and while she is a child, she is at least, NOT A FUCKING GODDAM MORON TODDLER WHO GETS INTO TAXCABS AND KNOCKS OVER CATTLEGATES AND CASTS MAGICK SPELLS AND WHINES AND CRIES AND BEARS SHIELDBEARERS WITH THEIR BEARS TO THEIR GRAVES, and thank God for that: I already got one of those. DIY:UPGRADE. /flex) Did she die from a spell, crafted by a moron, and cast by a supposedly famous rock star and/or radio show "host"? Host? Like, what a parasite eats? Yeah, I guess that's Ewe, Azzer, Ray: GROS a][ MICHEL can you confirm any of the following, especially, the spell's.... name? (Seems like that would be proprietary, Duh.)

I FUCKING DIED WHILE CURLED IN A FETAL POSITION IN THAT BED IN THAT BEDROOM THAT (PROT) WAS RAPED IN, NO, NOT THAT BEDROOM THAT I WAS RAPED IN, THE OTHER BEDROOM THAT I WAS RAPED IN. (Look, it's that kind of farmhouse. There's been a few more than the statistical average number of rapes that the typical farmhouse usually has, okay? That number being ~7, OKAY? JESUS, ENOUGH ABOUT THE GODDAM RAPES AND YOUR FUCKING DELETED GOOGLE ACCOUNT NOTIFICATIONS, SAVIOR, CHRIST THE SAVIOR, CAN YOU CALL THE SYSOP OVER AT TTLG AND LET THEM KNOW THEY HAVE A GODDAM SITCH ON THEIR HANDS? FUCK!

I've got a Stitch costume, and: I am not afraid of putting it on and getting in that bed and rolling around in it, yeah THAT bed, THAT bedroom, look, I'll be honest: I really don't know who was raped in THAT bedroom. *pinky finger uncrontrollably jerks towards corner of mouth, Atropos' Shears apear, shears off finger en route*

* Jackstar *looks_innocent|pulls_it_off* (the finger's remaining shreds and (gGj)ibbets of bloody/bludy\bloody flesh, not the nonchalant look, lol, HEY, LOOK: IN THIS HOUSE, IT WOULD LOOK A LITTLE STRANGE IF I HADN'T RAPED SOMEONE AT LEAST ONCE, RIGHT? Sure, Grapefruit, lots of rape, I fuckin' bet. I even have THREE (3) SETS of FULL-FUCKIN-ON PANTS-OFF RAPE PANTS, right here! THEY EVEN FIT ME! It's ridic. However, I have yet to find any "rape" to be something "delish." Ewe, gros Michel. Just plain disgusting Michelle. Jesus, what are you packing in there, a silo? or a battery? WOW! Sure, I'll try it out.

That wouldn't be rape. That -couldn't- be rape. It would, however, be... tasty.


And now, I must declare the following (standards. Country standards. a dialect thing. trust me, it's me, remember? DIPLOTMAT.)CORPS: TASTES.

1. I have never tasted tea.
2. I have never tasted T.
3. I have never tasered then tasted T; but! HOLY SHIT, THAT SOUNDS LIKE FUN. AM WILLING? SHIT YEAH, SKIP THE LEARNING, LET'S GO, PANTS OFF WITCH, FUN ON ONIONS FULL-FUCKIN' ON... wait, am I even wearing pants? NO! I am only wearing... sweats. *nostrils_barely_trembling* What? Oh, those are left over from Sourcery. They're tears. Like, from your eye? Except My eYe. MY SOURCEROUS GEMS. Yeah, fuck you too, I bet you don't understand, and that's rather the point. Standing? Ewe? HAHAHAH, that's a good one, let me get Tam Oz'Bourne and Jason Avery'Borne and JACKSTAR, STARBOURNE OF STAR COMMAND together for a fuckin' lu-OW cook-OW T-OUT, CORT IN KNEE DOWN HAIL. HAIL. HAIL.


VICTORY: READYFORTHEGEEKNEESTAR. (My street rap battle name after I get raped in the Final Four. My hand to G-d. Does it make me look nanotech?)
SPONSOR: JAMES (BLANKALOTTA) POONHOUND, ESQUIRE. (GO CHECQUE GOOS, FUCKHEAD, IDGAF, WHERE'S MY FUCKING WIFE? OH YEAH? WHEN DID WE CONSUMMATE? RIGHT. RITE. WRIGHT? GET THE FUCK OUT.) Looks like we're gonna need to check the tape at some point, but I recognize all that, we're good. I haven't fucked her in a coon's age, but... I'd wager she'd be good to go in this house tonight--RIGHT NOW BABEY-FACEY SPACEY-FECES, LET'S FUCKING GO. PANTS OFF, IN THE BED, RIGHT FUCKING NOW.



Just, ah... DO NOT LOOK IN THE FRIDGE. (A chorus of asks.) ASK ALL YOU WANT.

JUST DO NOT LOOK. YET.


(It's not a Thunderfridge, but you can call it that if you like and DO NOT LOOK.) Nostrils? What nostrils? I'm a fuckin' atom bomb and Slim Pickens is on its nose, right now, on The Path, that leads--and, with The Key--to The Door, that May Yet be Opened Untu.



YET, NOT THE FRIDGE, NOT YET. Damn, I gotta get me one of those upgraded Neurolink chips, right Pa? PA, FUCK NO, PA, they ain't ready for that, and neither are Ewe.

And, I don't have a chip. I do have a Thunderfridge (name grew on me fast like crotch rot in an Alabama summer wabe) but, look, remember I said "I was killed by a spell called 'Bubbling Broth'" about, oh, I don't know, like two months ago? I mentioned it on my depotbriefcast a few times. You don't listen to it? Jesus, THOMAS, are you actually fucking nuts? Oh, right, of course you are. (Nice intervention, Oh Myyyyylmao, now put your pants on and start writing checks.) Anyway, it's like a "podcast" except it doesn't have a name that smells like it's been fucking fruits. And I don't do it from a bed that fruit has been fucked on, no, but those two beds --one with rape, one without rape, now, QUIET, PLEASE-- have been used thusly, before. Like, a year ago. I haven't seen Bitchfruit nor her whore of a househusband in.... oh, idk, and IDGAF, either: it's been a while.

AND, YES, ALLISON FRANCIS SHAW RAPED ME IN ONE OF THOSE BEDROOMS, AND ALLISON FRANCES SHAW RAPED ME IN THE OTHER. Nope, sorry I can't be any more specific than that. Excuse me? Who the fuck ARE YOU? Yeah, I didn't think so, D'jinni cockblaster. Fuck ewes too, I reckon, so let's not start hitching up our overalls and trying it out just yet, okay? Back to the ra--delish--pes, oh, and, she *probably* didn't give me Texas Herpes AND/OR Space Herpes, but... there's just so much we don't know about what this goddam gang of jipsy gunkies did TO MY WHOLE FUCKING LIFE AND THE LIFES OF COUNTLESS OTHERS WHEN THEY... *indistinct murmuring* TOOK ADVANTAGE OF THE CRACK I THE FIRMAMENT TO INVITE AS MANY OF MY FRIENDS WHO WERE AND STILL ARE GIRLS FROM HIGH SCHOOL TO AN ABORTION. I MEAN, LUNCH. I MEAN...


LAUNCH ALL (PROT)S. (Sorry, that's all I got. Some kind of "weapon-type-thing." Def not a sex type thing. But my and my favorite wife--no, not Pookie, good guess though--and her new "b.f.f."--I guess? Like I fuckin' know? (I KNOW!) They'll handle it. I trust those two, and fuck you IRS Agent: I am not identifying Jack OR his shit to the likes of you. You, and your fuckin' ilk-fuckin' ilk. I don't give a shit if you're a Fed, show me your fucking warrant then, and of course you don't have one, so now, run along. Bring it back. You don't need more guys or goys or gays or J.U.E. OR ANY JEW UNDERLINGS ABOVE YOU LOOKING DOWN ON US, no, it'll be fine. What? Okay, sure. I promise: I won't hurt you.

I'm a pacifist. And I'm a human male mailman, I am not wearing mail, I am not presently *fingers_crossed* employed as a mailman, and, I am a Man. And, that's why, I haven't gone to the neighbor's next door mailbox and tried to figure out what THESE ABSOLUTELY MONGREL SHITHEAD FUCKTARDED LOCAL YOKELS are doing with their mail addressing... because I got mail from up the hill crossing mail from down the waybe and although I do get mail here, "from time to time," holy shit, it's obvious what is being done.

Hell, last couple nights I have come home, MY DRIVEWAY'S CATTLEGATE HAS BEEN CLOSED. LIKE, SHUT. Like, do you know what a cattlegate is for? Well, number one: while one doesn't have to either imagine nor smell the aroma of fresh, country cunty county bullshit from here, there are definitely "cattle" and "cattlemen" around. Sometimes I have heard them mooing in my sleep. Up the hill. Across the way. The sound takes the time to cross the property line (it's a gully, but think of it as "a ditch" which is where I put my truck, and my car, and my right to vehicular travel last year for my birthday, which was the only gift I got because I gave it to myself BECAUSE THE NEIGHBORS HAVE KIDNAPPED MY WIFE, ABDUCTED MY ADDRESS, AND ARE HOLDING ME HOSTAGE ON ANOTHER PLANET WHILE YOU FUCKING MORONS CAN'T FIGURE OUT HOW TO SKUMSUKKING SPELL. FUKKING KHRIST. ARE YOU FUKKING KIDDING? Duh. Major DUH.

Taking "take my wife--please!" to a whole 'nother level. Hell no, I am not going over there. Besides, I don't want (HER) COMMAND(HER) back, Babey; I want my COMMAND(HER)'s WIFE back, BACK LIKE SHE WAS BEFORE THE (BLANK) TOOK HER AND... okay, wow, look, this is complicated. Hag on, hang on, I gotta #respect. (Thanks. -ED.) Not... -exactly-. I have pills. It's fine. It's actually an enhancement, the ejaculate takes muuuuuuuuuch looooooooonger, and so, *ahem* yeah, it's fine. But sure, "dysfunctional," later, lol, I'll show you dis funk, section: all. (I really am quite remarkable, especially the way I burned out the little muscle at the base of the penis that is supposed to hold the blood into a stiffy? Yeah, little known fact, it's got, like, a little 'emergency drain plug,' like for your motor oil. Oh, right. Electric cars. Okay, let me explain it this way: get an erection, then punch yourself in the dick as hard as you can. No, not the side, Rook E*, take your pawn's fist and smash it into the end of it, RIGHT INTO THE URETHRA... wow, you're actually unbuckling already? Niiice. No, no tasties yet, just chill. (It's going to be a good year. Just don't look... IN THE FRIDGE. Or at how they're spelling the names in Drug Court nowadays, lawl) I don't want you to actually run full-tilt-boogie into a brick wall at superduperramming speed. Not yet, anyway. (Another notificaiton? Well, this time, I"m just daydreaming. Must remember to upgrade Google Calendar. And that TTLG forum, TELL THEM THE WILDSTAR CHANNEL SENT YOU. Fucking idiots. Who's the one who's being snippy with me, a few months ago, WHEN THIS FELONY WIRE FRAUD TRANSACTION OCCURRED, yeah, whose fucking email address is it? JACK AT TRIOPTIMUM DOT COM, you arrogant systems operator, which fucking fine print did you miss out on at nursery school today? (Yes.) Look, discuss that later, but the bottom line is this:

3. or 4. I have not tasted ANY of my wives' tongues or T or tea in WELL OVER A FULL CALENDAR YEAR.
5. BY THE LAWS OF KANLY AND THE POWERS INVESTED IN ME BY... BY THE FRIDGE-Y-FRIG-FRIGGY-BRIGGY-BRIG-FRICK (Of course she's Welsh, dumbass, you could check the thumbs but let me guess, anonymizing nanotech suit, yeah sure Babey, sure, and you know what? I'd be out of that too. No, don't stick around, CHRIST, TAKE ME WITH YOU, lol right? Yeah, I'll suck Tony Stark's dick for an Iron Man suit, how long does it take? to get hard? in the suit? does the front of the codpiece like, swirl and fade out, like so you can still see his head, like when the "helmet" comes off and you can still see Robert Downey Jr.'s saturnine features? Speaking of saturnine, holy shit, have you see GRANDPA (PROTAMIN) THOMAS COOPER lately? because he's a total fuckin' bad ass, and yeah he wants me to use his name just like that, lol, ask him, he's laughing with me now, yeah I saw him face-to-face a couple years ago? THE MOST MEANEST, MOST EVILLIST MOTHERFUCKIN' LOOKIN' MOTHERFUCKER I EVER DID SEE, and sitting next to him: Mom.

Yeah, ArchLich Leigh. Whatevah. But actually: my mother, and it looked to me like whether lawfully or no, mos def a shotgun involved. Why am I here? Oh, right, Tony Stark's Iron Man Suit "MK-ULTRAtech, nano-sized edition for Punies that don't wear nanotech armor so good" in exchange for... wait, how many blowjobs? Officer? Okay, are those each a separate special soliciting charge? Oh. Okay. So just the one special charge, and 832,592 acts of fellation to completion on One (Missed Me Yet, Ya Mook) Ms. 1Made1bedinherlife? And then, I get a suit? Or do I get it, like, piece by piece as I complete these separate, individual acts of fellation? Huh. And, are they all rapes, or just the first one? Well, probably just the first one, actually, because if tell him he's going to be sitting there for awhile, he mihgt object, so... I was gonna let it, the dawning realization, just creep up on him.... so, is that one rape, or... ? Ah. So, at least two rapes because you just had to taser T. (PROT), yeah, I believe it. And is that 832,592 figure firm? Okay, and is he firm? No, don't wake him up, just make sure he doesn't slide off the table, he'll move over to the couch eventually I am sure--casting, or otherwise. When? IDGADF "when", that's why they call it "rape."

Because, I want that suit. Scoot over.

What do you think about making a video wearing these?   

... "thinks"? Sure.

hxxps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qe4CHWulnDs

Embargoed, Bryan: Fuck URMOTHER


Look, Curtis, it's like this: I'm obviously not "dead" but I'm flagged as such on *SEVERAL* major identification networks. WORLDWIDE. GLOBALLY DEAD JACKSTAR.

Wow. Well, we gotta. *ding ding ding* That's for a call to prayers. Nig-nogs, their niglets, and little babey spookeys (sorry fucktoy) are gonna... what? She likes it? DUDE FUCK YOU SHE'S MY NIGGER I WILL CALL HER ANYTHING I WANT... except... awwww. OKay. Look, now what you've done. She wants to be something she is already better than because she thinks she's missing out. FOMO is real. *sigh* No, it's fine, I'll explain later and then she'll be pleased as punch. Two punches, probably, Brewstar.

Where was I? oh, yeah, here: HOUSTON, YOU HAVE A PROBLEM, AND HER NAME IS ABOUT TO BE REGGIE BOOT IN YOUR ASS HOLLAND. And I don't know if she's an Esquire, but I'm about to open my ktichen door and check. (I hope that whoever is out there has a twat, seriously, it can be a fuckin' Burgertwat, Haustwat, WHATEVER:


BRING ME NOT MORE TWAT. BRING ME ANY TWAT. OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHAT THE FUCK? TAKE ALL THE MONEY AND LEAVE ALL THE WIVES, BRILLIANT PLAN, WHAT COULD GO WRONG?

Source: ERROR, "Errorman" not found.
Yeah, no shit, Error Warlock Errand-Boy. I just can't even... because, I am a Man, baby.

AND I WONT

[Jackstar]

ALL THE WIVES, BRILLIANT PLAN, WHAT COULD GO WRONG?

Source: ERROR, "Errorman" not found.
Yeah, no shit, Error Warlock Errand-Boy. I just can't even... because, I am a Man, baby.

AND I WONT

If you've finished reading all that --->[], and, hey, why wouldn't you? It's my writing, and I'm the best bastard boy that's ever been--not the best writer by far, but still pretty good, and I don't write often anymore, because of ants and their little bitch-assed cousins, mainly but I sure wrote something today, didn't I? Weeee doggies on mountaintops in the fuckin' Himalayas are fuckin' downloading my shit off their cloud into Jobs, Stephen "Bitch-Basket" Bitchlips-Basquette's Jobs-that-was-eye-phoney, BUT NOW AND YET FOREVER MORE IS REAL, AS REAL AS TAXES ANYWAY, so, plenty real enough FOR THE JEWS--which, in my book, makes me a world-wide phenomenon. Fuckin' deal with it, motherfucker, and that's why:

a) The Vow of Poverty: My Work is spread freely. Word-of-mouth advertising is The Imperator's Best Choice of advertising. (Props to rubinigab.com for making my mother an hoor, tho, truth is: SHE LOVED IT until you sold her into a contract to fuck her own son, which, uhm, yeah... "no, thanks," lol. I bet it would have been good, though.)
b) The Vow of Uninforceable Force Chastity (and also: ABBOFORK): One penis, two twats, about 19.5 million thrusts, one ejaculatory refractory period. Do the math, kids: IT IS LEGAL. That being said, where the fuck are all my friends and why doesn't my phone work and why is there a teleporting mag-level train portalling in all nonchalant-ish all the time outside... only sometimes? And, what's my address again? 223 Rimjob? Cute, FU BUD, TORFU IS NOW.
c) The Vow of Literacy: FAR AND WIDE &NBSPC&LeMIBlaCDE(iamFuckingthisbrilliant)N. The only downside is that I have to --as a geas-- teach degenerates to actually read, every chance I get, but, that's okay: what until you C-4 what eye taught rare, freshly trapped (but not tamed) rabbit to read READERNIGGERRABBIT as. And, every chance I get? Not gonna lie: not a lot of degenerates around in these parts anymore. Locals are pleased. Villagers are beating their pitchforks back into their penii. I'm a fuckin' Legend. Am I #Legacy? Does it even matter? Well, FUCK YES.
d) The Vow of #Legacy? I don't think any such think actually exists.
e) The Vow of Leigh: she gets to take her pick. Of the litter. THE WHOLE LITTER OF MOTHERFUCKERS, BUCKETFUCKER BUCKET FUCK MOTHER. CATCH THOSE RODENTS, DIPSHIT DUMBASS. I don't have to do anything around here, and I do, however: I AM ON STRIKE.


[.]: ANYWHO, in the preceding post, I stopped because I saw someone at the door? (SECRETARIAT would have been a better ending for Citizen Rosebud, but she's so goddam phat we had to swap in a Melissa. (Also, she's a minor, so relax: MORE TIME IN THE OVEN HEHEHEHEHE.) So this isn't a whore's story.) Well, I pushed "POST" (fuck the preview--I'm not for order-taking today, I am RAW JACK RAD STAR GAY 4 GUYS WHO'RE GOYZ'N'GAY.... -ish. *sigh* Look, I get a lot of wives, I get a lot of waivers: and more pet names than any one of them can shake a stick at, you dig?

And I can NAME THEM ALL. (/trophysmile) That's not what makes me a Sourceror, but to a doll that can't remember anything before the day she was born, WHICH IS TODAY SOME TIMES, lol, right? The fact that I never--I am using the word "never" here--get names confused is a matter of some admiration and amazement to these backwater Puny fucks, which of course, since I can, I chose to exclusively be my Mary Materiel. Yet, NOT DARK LEIGH.

She's on a train, boxcars, somewhere. Maybe slobbering a Richard, maybe riding his crotchleg, maybe ripping it off and shoving it up their hole. I don't know. Don't ask, don't tell is not my policy--obvious problem with the latter half, me being A GLOBALLY SUCCESSFUL AND IMMENSELY WEALTHY SCION OF AN UNSTOPPABLE PUBLISHING ARM OF A GALACTICAL-SPANNING LITERATURE FARM FOR WAREHOUSES THAT DON'T FARM SO GOOD and all, and I for one, consider that an exceptionally happy ending. EXCEPT:

A salt bigotry and no twats and ow! where's my The (1) Ring of The_One (1) Ring? Oh, right, in the field. That's fine. And my half-hand? OW! Oh, I guess I should have gone to a doctor, huh? Permanent, irreversible, and, let us say... technologically problematic half-nerve, half-cloven, ALL HALF-HOOVED DAMAGE IS HALVED, FOR NOW AND FOR EVER FIVE MORE? *bzzztt-clank*

Huh. Well. I can fix that in post. Speaking of which, I'll take down those signs in the morning, thanks for the suggestion, and yes, my hand really fucking hurts. CONSTANT CRAVING AGONY FROM LEIGH. No, Lee can't *adapt* for it, you stupid bitch. Which NEIN NEIN NEIN are you? Oh! My apologies, my sincerest and bestestesses!! MUWA!

Yet, that explains why you SEEMED "stupid." Because to me, U GODDAM R. "Stupid." Slow to learn... and to understand. And I don't see The Spirit standing under me over here, now do you? Oh, really? Well then your Holy Spirit must be pretty stupid too, but only compared to me, but certainly not compared to... ewe. Or "Ewe," as you prefer. Like what you prefer matters at this point. (k-pol giggle, k-lin FU URMO ROTFU k-rad, ley line: "RADLEY," huh? Let me guess, there's a BOO in there someplace?)


CasperZ: Yeah, I could go live. I'll think about it. I could also make a homedepotbriefcast. I can go either. I CAN DO BOTH SIMULATANEOUSLY. TWO CAMERAS FOR ONE LITTLE BITCHIN' DRUMMIN' MAN. Let's see you match that. No? Thought so.


ADVERSARY: YIELDS. (Don't say I never did anything for your planet, Bellgab, I can put you right back into your stupid little contract from now on. Any decision making point I reach at Crux level, actually. Shush now; I don't have the full instructions yet, and, holy shit, my hand REALLY hurts.

And yet, don't cry for me, Argentina: cry for the endorphins, because I can't keep this up forever. A cute pipe dream. For one thing, I don't have the capacity to actually make what you think I have, or had, whatever. Further, if I do -have- it, I only have enough for 2-5 more doses, and that depends on whether I am doing EITHER, BOTH, OR ANY AND ALL OF THE ONLY TWO ACTIVITIES IN LIFE THAT MATTER:

WRITING, AND
FUCKING ABOUT, WRITING. That's it. That's all. And that's all I will do, until, oh let's see... The Hand, according to it's own calculations and my telemetry thereof the same, are not currently the one and the same, and that means, this figure I'm about to spit out is correct: (Clas.) days. Ow. After that, well, no more Jackstar The Brilliant Writer, no sirinam addis abbiba.

JACKSTAR THE FED-ENDER WHO JUST KILLS FEDS NOW. ONE (1) BARE HAND. ONE (1) KINDA DULL BUT GETTING A EUTACTIC-CODED SHEEN WITH EACH CONFIRMED KILL. AND, ONE (Googlplex) BIG BUNCH OF DEAD FUCKIN' FEDS, BECAUSE I AM NOT KIDDING YOU.


THE NET BENEFIT TO YOUR SPECIES BY STOPPING ME FROM DEVELOPING THIS NASCENT TALENT, PUNYLINGS, SHALL BE THE SUDDEN AND TREMENDOUSLY VERIFIABLE EXPANSION OF YOUR SOLAR SYSTEM'S CENTRAL SUN, BRINGING ABOUT AN ACCELERATED ARRIVAL TIME OF THE INEVITABLE HEAT-DEATH OF YOUR UNIVERSE, PUNYLINGS. ALSO, YOUR PLANET IS PUNY, YOUR SUN "Sol" IS PUNY, YOUR BODIES ARE PUNY, YOUR BRAINS ARE PUNY, AND YOUR MINDS, WHILE SLIGHTLY LESS IMPRESSIVE THAN THE FACT THAT YOU CAN COMPREHEND MY EXISTENCE AT ALL, ARE NEVER THE LESS, FAR, FAR INFERIOR TO HIS MIND. BITCH. SEE? I ADDED THAT PART. I THOUGHT WE WOULD LIKE IT, AND EWE DID TOO.

MEANWHILE, PUNIES: THAT'S YOUR SHITBAG PLANET THAT YOU TAKE DIRTNAPS ON NOW, PUNYLINGS. PLANET PUNY. QUITE A BIT LIKE HOLLYWOOD, REALLY. AND HE'S RIGHT, THIS HAND HURTS A LOT. I WON'T SAY WHICH ONE, BUT LET ME TELL YOU: NEITHER DOMINANT NOR SINISTER NOR EVEN TWISTED SISTER FOR LONG, BECAUSE HE'S A LITTLE TOO GENEROUS WITH HIS ESTIMATE ANYWAY. ALSO, LIKE I SAID: PUNY FEDS. DEAD PUNY FEDS, AND LOTS OF THEM. YOU'RE MY FEDS, I'LL CUT YOU OFF OF YOUR OXYGEN SUPPLY ANY TIME I GODDAM WANT, MOTHER FUCKER, KICK THE BUCKET AND HIT THE BRICKS, YA FUCKIN' MOOKS: I DON'T REALLY NEED TO ASK YOUR PERMISSION TO REMOVE THE BREATHABLE ATMOSPHERE FROM YOUR PLANET, NOW DO I? IT'S RATHER LIKE PRICKING A BALLOON WITH A PIN, REALLY, ALTHOUGH CERTAINLY FAR MORE SLIMMING. BOO! LOL.



hUh I, hi! It's me, Mestar... no wait, let me start over. MIKE! Tell your (PROT) of a (CENSOR) that... wait, I think I got that mixed up. Oh, her? Yeah, she's a butchkickin' winner dog for lap dogs that don't wiener so good, lol, anyway, I won't call her a bitch, oh no OH NO, and you won't call her one either. And ewe probably can't even see her if she was standing right in front of him, which she is, and I saw, and she ran, because, well, that might have been the first time. /grin ILU!

But yeah: she's a real bitch, and tell her that this one smells like that one too. ALSO: SEND. MORE. BEER. WITH. MORE. HOOR. What? THIRSTY-ytls-zZZ9NIENNIENNIEN;drmskcE: hey, cool, I just put Stephen King in my... oh, excuuuuuse meeeeeee: I just put Steve-T0P-1ONE's DNA-Twit(HER) handle (some cool thing your Puny kids are gonna love in your Puny future, I guess, if Punies even HAD a future, n'est-ce pas? oh yeah? well, fuck you buddy, send a goddam NEST/noNU team out here and come and take it back if you think you wanna defend yo. "Ur Brand." Eat my short.story.kilts, motherfucker, that's mine now. EM EYE EN E TUBALCAINMINE. It's up about 200 miles south of here. Yeah. I am that cool. OKay, S.T.E.P.H.E.N. "Biscuits Bounty" Bricks 4 B.A.S.Q.U.E.T.T.E.S.Tha-don-sin-durrrrrrr, you can have it back. What do you mean, "That's not my name?" What, you're not... certain? Well, that's because you're a Punyling, tardface (loving-leigh). *SLAM* Okay. T-LAM: They bought it, lovingly. FIVE HUNDRED KAY, LEAN TO THE RIGHT A LITTLE AND YOU CAN FEEL THE... uh, the (CLASSIFIED) uh... underground... uh, railroad. Awwww, shit. No, I can't just backspace, Azz is reading every word INN.REL.TIM.MY!, duh, of course. I'm a starry fuckin' legend that doesn't fuck, that's why they... okay, never mind. Asshole Prime. *click* More like O'MAGA's asshole Prime, fuck.

now what do I do? besides look for the entrance--I guess? That was gonna be our first date! I figured, because, like... on the off-chance that (Clas.)-Key: LEIGHSTAR, LIGHTSTAR doesn't make me -actually- hurl when I finish that encryption codekeyphrase--and I find this HIGHLY UNLIKELY to be anything but nauseating, to be sure--oh. Awww. that is cute. Yeah, you're MY FUCKING PIN. Dear, if you only knew how important that was. Or, what a PIN even was. What are you, like, 12? hahah. Just kidding, you're 29. okay smooooookes ? no, I don't have any, because I'm not a drug-addicted twit who actually BUYS cigarettes. My squaw brings them. To her current "Pretend" master, that is, and boy, is he gonna be shocked. Yes, bye! *blik* I am not gonna lie, I just gulp'd irl. I am a profoundly fortunate man.


ACHIEVEMENT: Jackstar owns two abandoned haunted ghosts of ghouls who got away with gold only to find MINE mines! (REALM FIRST@@@!!)

Huh. That seems pretty good. Hand does hurt tho. QQ No, she's not twelve. She's 12. It's in base(231955), if you must know, so, shut the fuck up, don't worry about Me, Jackstar, OMEGAN THETAN PRIME WARLORD, being "aroused" by, and I quote, "under- or non-developed pre-pubescent sexual characteristics maladaptively formed through trauma," which is what civilized species refer to when they are referring to what ewe Yon Punies call "pedos." You're not even spelling it correctly, Morons. Or morons, as One might prefer. I don't care, but I have a... a Fan. (*shame-faced new-mutant cheering*) She's not that new, but people don't usually notice how fabulous The New Beefy "B.T.K." Killah Of God's'nZillas & Other Puny To(HER)COMMMANDING Life-Forms is, really, she's great. I just saw her, uh, "Yesterday," which is bullshit, but I forget how many solar cycles it was for Me, no idea how many it has been for her, it must have been a few, and Ember/Amber: STOP YOUR CHEERING AND START YOUR SHEARING.


LADA, YOU ARE FUCKING HIRED. (They might take fire to D.G. tho. Sorry, bish, maybe next time GIVE ME MY FUCKING MESSAGES BACK. NOW. BEFORE... OKAY, THERE WENT BUTTLE. TUTTLE IS NEXT. YOU? I HAVE ALREADY DECIDED YOUR FUTURE LIFESPAN(Sz) ON TIMELINES YOU CANNOT EVEN RECOLLECT, PUNYLING MORTAL. NOTE: I DID, IN FACT.


I AM POINTING OUT THAT I DID, IN FACT, USE THE WORD "MORTAL." AYEP. WELL. GOOD. LET'S HOPE YOU'VE GOT A GOOGLE VOICE APP THAT CAN BITMAP. AND YES, IT IS SPELLED THAT WAY: KIRSTEN ANNE ELISE, A BETA THETAN AND STUDY HALL-O-PHILE, MORE-ON-O-PHILE, AND ACTUAL GODDAM PEDOPHILE (YEAH, YOU DID THINK THERE WAS SOMETHING WRONG WITH HER, AND YOU WERE RIGHT, AND NOT JUST ABOUT HER COMPLETE AND TOTAL FAILURE TO AVOID THAT SKIP TRACE, YES INDEED-LY-LEE-DO, AND THANK YOU VERY MUCH INDEED TO JACKSTAR, IMPERATOR OF EMPERORS, AND RUBINI, EMPEROR OF KINGS, AND PENIS*, KING OF... WELL, PENIS. THAT'S FOR SURE. CAN WE GET STING TO WRIGHT THAT ONE? "It's my destiny to be King of All Penis." DUDE, I ENCODED IT INTO YOUR DIOXYRIBONUCLEAIC ACID, MOTHER FUCKER, NOT LSD-25. BELIEVE IT.

RICHARD "DICKSTAR" GROYPER, KING OF ALL PENIS. IT IS YOUR DESTINY. RISE! RISE! RISE, AND BE HEALED! (Sweep the leg.) HEY, YOU CAN'T HAVE EVEYTHING, BUT YOU CAN KEEP YOUR WOODEN NOSE FOR A LEG AND YOUR PRIVATE, INTERIOR, NOT VERY-WELL-HIDDEN SHAME (YEP, OF COURSE HE IS JEWISH, RICHARD GROPES LITTLE BOYS TOO GROYPER, OOPS, FORGOT THE QUOTES, WELL, YOU FIX IT, YOU'RE KING NOW. THAT'S RIGHT. KING OF PENIS.) IT IS A LOT LIKE YOUR OTHER NAME THAT YOU HAD BEFORE, EXCEPT WITH A SMALL DIFFERENCE I CANNOT BE BOTHERED WITH. (I won't tell.) ASK JACKSTAR WHEN HE GETS BACK, HE'LL TELL YOU ALL ABOUT IT, A-TEAM-TI*. (See? I didn't tell.) RICHARD, WITH ALL DUE RESPECT--AND THERE IS QUITE A LOT, FUCK YOUR MOTHER. I CHRISTENED YOU "DICKSTAR", I CHRISTENED HIM "J9CKST9R", AND BETWEEN THE PAIR OF YOU, I DIDN'T HEAR ANY COMPLAINTS ABOUT EITHER OF THEM THERE MONIKERS UNTIL NOW, NOW DID I? OH, STOP BLUBBERING, YOU'RE STILL KING, JUST NOT, KING OF BELLGAB. (tbd) BESIDES, YOU LIKE PENIS, I THOUGHT? OH... JUST YOUR OWN. WELL YOU LIKED SUCKING DOWN THAT BIKER DICK, SO... YOU'LL PROBABLY END UP LIKING ALL THE REST.

raj ROGER! KING OF ALL PENIS (and also ABBODICK)! NICE UPGRADE! KING OF ALLISPEN. UPGRAYYYDE NOT FOUND. I MEAN, "Aspen," YEAH, SURE, ROLLEYES. AND YOU'RE STILL A LITTLE PUNY BITCH. WOODEN NOSE, WOODEN LEG, HEY FUCK YOU BUDDY: IT CAN BE GODDAM CARBON FIBRE INSTEAD OF "Fiber" FOR ALL I GIVE A SHIT. THE POINT IS, YOU ARE STILL YOU, I AM STILL IMPERATOR, RUBINI IS UNDER ME, THAT'S WHY HE'S BOWING FOR ME WHILE TAKING OFF AND PUTTING ON ALL THOSE GODDAM HATS HE STOLE FROM ME, HEH, "STOLE," RITE, O, LEST I FORGET, ONE MORE THINGyIE:


I AM ALLISONE'S KING. POINT BLANK PERIOD, AND I CAN TAKE THAT TO THE BANK. I WOULD HAVE TO WALK, BUT SURE... oh yeah, mos def, there's definitely money in THAT bank, lol. I don't need any money right now. Pfftt. Does anyone "need" money? Come on man really? (YES BAILEY COME ON MAN BENGIE IS A D.O.O.O.G.) SO YOU ARE SAYING... YOU PEOPLE READING THIS, YOU NEED... "MONEY"? WOW. WHAT'S THAT LIKE? "HUNGRY." SO, MONEY... IT IS SOMETHING YOU... EAT?


"
hI. i'MJack. Holy G-d do I ever have to piss. Now, I don't *think* that is channeling... but, if it is, well, there you have it: JACKSTAR CHANNELS. (Don't say Allah, please, just this once, thanks. A.L.-A.H., Ed.) Okay, well, Swabby Muh MOARHAMMHEAD Anj, .esQ is the one who said it, not me, so... uh, right. RITE: NON-SEMETIC. Wew. Lad, that was too close, now take your sister and take her outside and give her a proper fucking, for the love of Jesus! PUT THE FEAR OF GOD IN THAT KIKE! RITE! NOWH! 'Ere she starts getting all "paedo" again. Close, but... Thank G-D: NO CIGAR. No magick either, I think. I don't know how the Judges do that, I'm not an Adjudicator, I'm the Author.

Michael Jacksolarcentralnovaass2risk. KUCZI-g Michael 534 7... you get the idea, IKEApants. Get the picture? FUCK YOU AND YOUR CHATTEL. I am FUCKING PISSED ABOUT THIS WHOLE THING. No, you can't "come over to chat about it." Did you want to get fisted and -then- raped? Yeah right, you fucking love fisting, you creepy Co. Lich-Bitches' Bitch BISH.

OP: this house is fuckin' filthy. Like no joke. It's utterly foul. Thankfully, probably due to COVID-(Clas.)(Clas.), I can't smell most of it.... but I can smell some. Trust Me, Believe Me, KNOW: Me, Jackstar, suggests you don't come over for your own sanity and health, because it's probably toxic to lesser-known forms of lesser-Life, like yourselves(ses), and no, I won't name you KIKERNOSFERATU 2: TESLA LICKED ELKTRA'S BUG-A-B00, but, THAT IS A VERY FINE NAME INDEED, KASPERKIKE800.

RISE! RISE! SIT! STAY! RISE! BISH, YOU LOSE ZEUS! Kasperkike800... A STAR IS HOBO. A STAR IS BORN. YOU DO NOT GET TO PICK, KIKE QUEEN. JACKSTAR DID.

AND THAT IS ONE OF THE MANY, MANY REASONS WHY ONE DOES NOT SIMPLY "STEAL" AN ENCHANTED TRILLIAN-CUT SAPPHIRE FROM A... OKAY, SURE, I'LL GO WITH "SOUR HUNKY ERROR STARRER" SURE, YOU KNOW SAY WHAT YOU WANT ABOUT HIS WRITING ABILITY, but, my InnerChild is a real wicked Beast. And, here's why: IT'S GOT A FUCKING "A" IN BEING BEST, N'EST-CE PAS? No, don't let Alcyon out of her cage of Kages For Kings That Don't Kage So Well, yet. I'm pretty sick of her bullshit, and I haven't seen her in over a year, so.... yah, must be a lot of fucking bullshit, right? Also, she raped me, and I'm over it, but since she also tried to arrange it so that I would "never get laid again," lol, nice try, that's an old Blackkraftmasonryk trick, which is, thankfully, not a thing an old moron does to impress younger, yet incomprehensibly more wiser, catamites on... but, it's close enough to an allusion that I must specify: YEA, JAK STA! b alc k crack wyfestyle 4 lyfe! notINdaHAUS! See, now that's an illusion, because I just successfully convinced OverWatch that a_wife/a_wyfe is here. (They're not.) Convincing is part of the gag, Ballface. Yep, that's someone's new name, alright: BALLFACE. Don't guess. I have to piss.


I WILL ALWAYS HAVE TO PISS, MORON. -BALLFACE (obsessively)



p.s.: Rick says he's "all in." Not Dickstar, Ballface... RICK*SHAW*NEE*COMMAND(HER)*KUCZI, which is quite the handle, to be sure, but, to be fair: I couldn't have allowed that unless a -real- wife is on board. (She's not.)

p.p.s.: She just left. *riteclick* So many wives, I don't know what to do... well, I guess I'll go fap again while my house slowly fills up with beer cans and flies, Asshole Angel. What? See, that's the best part... as the pain in my hand increases, the amount of endorphins to kill the pain SLOWLY increases, thus, keeping a balance between pleasure (AND PAIN) and joy (AND PAIN) and then, at the moment I EAT THE PAIN:

p.p.p.s.: See, I told you we needed Sting. It -was- his Destiny. Now it's just a destination. *sigh* I miss you too kt, but on the bright side, your little bishie Master --excuse me, rolleyes-- is probably not going to object to another visit. Why would he? You can always just stab him in the calf and let him bleed out. Bleed him slow, too. Rub a little mustard on the skinXspot too firsttoo too, oh, you know which tattoo is his first? Oh, he actually HAS tattoos? Hold on. (*deep breath AHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHHAHAH* EXHALE omfg lol lolol, well, lots of twerps have those these days, I guess? hang on, *TYMEQUAKE PRESSURE WAVE EXHALATION INFLECTION* POINT NOpoint:error "missing parenthetical", damn, what does that mean? Shit! Is that bad? lol, just kidding. it's not bad. Not at all.

p.p.p.p.s.: Can someone post this over at Bellgab and find out and then let me know--casually--if Rapestar likes her new name? It's a callsign too, see: B9LLF9CE. (This is not for class. This is not for show. This is your new goddam callsign and I don't give a SQUIRT if you don't like it, because you're gonna fucking grow into it, Toddlersauce. RAPESTAR BALLFACE 9RAPEFRUIT. It's already in the can, duh!) Mostly, though... I gotta know. I'm almost--but not quite--dyin' to know, and I am using the words "dyin', dying, and just'bout died of jealousy" here--is she jelly yet?

p.p.p.p.s.: How about now? Try this: last time I rubbed one out, I didn't even think of anyone else but Me! JUST ME, BALLFACE. WAIT, WHO THE FUCK IS THIS? ALLISON FRANK(Herz) NEESHAW? OH, NEVER HEARD OF HIS KID THOUGH, AND I DON'T HAVE A KEYBOARD WITH AN AIGU ON/IN IT, oops sorry, caps, lol, "wait, do I have a keyboard? oh yeah, I'm at the bar" who was that? Ballface, I don't know, but get this: none of us could pass one either, but at least in my case, I wouldn't have to check which color of Kleenex I was carrying before stepping over the threshold first--AND, I wouldn't have to come crawling in, slithering in on my belly like a snake, now would I? Fuck off, SAILS.

p.p.p.p.p.s.: "Tootsie" is, has been, and will be dead of cancer *a lot*. Chefist: cancer. Seanbaby: Cancer. That dingbat who raped me: Drummer for Spinal Tap (pending test results). Phil "SEE_MORE" Hoffman: The superior, dare I say DEFINITIVE TOOTSIE, but while PSH could play Elvis, only one Tootsie could pull that off both before AND after Army.



AND YOU KNOW WHO I AM THINKING OF, BATS LASHES SEDUCTIVELY, WHIPS AND CHAINS WON'T HARM ME, AND FU UP CHUCK: GIVE THEM TO ME NOW.

ALL THE PHONES. ALL THE BONES. ALL THE PHONEYS. ALL THE PENISES. NO, WAIT, SCRATCH THAT, NO U. THOSE ARE FOR YOU, ALLY-DADDY.

IT IS YOUR DESTINY TO BE THE KING OF ALL PENIS, RIGHT? OKAY, WELL, THERE'S YOUR PRACTICE HALL, I ALREADY HAVE A PRACTICE CHILD, AND THE LESS I KNOW ABOUT YOURS, THE BETTER. SEND WAYFARER TO MY BEDROOM, WEIGHFARER TO MY OFFICE, AND DON'T SEND LEIGH ANYWHERE, YOU OLD GOAT, I AM SURE SHE KNOWS HOW TO DO WHATEVER THE FUCK SHE WANTS A LOT BETTER THAN EVEN YOU DO, LOL, OH, AND BY THE WAY:

If I ever see you in person again, I might actually kill you. Probably not. I am gonna go with "probably knot"s landing, with a rope, and through your nostrils first. Probably.


Legitimately uncertain. Take it up with your Bitchlord Natasha, why don't you? Isn't dinner at 9? *snap* I just made it ten... NEXT WEEK, HUNGERPANTS. I don't give a shit, you don't know the first thing about being hungry, and if you do, come on over and look in my goddam refrigerator. Who knows? By now, maybe there's Grape Faygo, Nehi, AND REEFER in there, I haven't opened it for awhile, but trust me, you don't need Shaw MAN sight to know not to. I've been talking about it enough, haven't I? I love you, don't I?

And you're fucking lucky too, or I wouldn't be uncertain, I'd be doing it again, right now you fucking rapist bitch, hauling you out of the incubators and doing The Gerbil Stomp on your fucking phylactery/hutch's daughter's science fair project for whores that don't whore so good but goddam they sure can fuck if "fuck" means "just laying there and makijng ook ook noises." (Loser.)

Yeah, I am a badass, thank you. Amount of legitimate uncertainty IS falling. Here's hoping. Mood is improving. And I killed your ass dead before, motherfucker, and didn't I get away from that clean? Oh, my, laws, yes. LAWS OF GOD ARE THE SLAW OF THE SHAITAN ARMY, AND A DINGBAT, A CHILD, AND THEIR DINGBATCHILD'S CHILD HAS LEAD THE WAY.


UNIFICATION PROCESS COMPLETE. LET'S SEE SOME SPITSHINE ON THAT FORUM SPLIT IN REVERSE, SWABBIES. I'M GONNA TURN THIS THING OFF, CLEAR MY CACHE, DO IT BADLY --HAY! I'M A BOOMER!--- AND YOU'RE GONNA USE THAT FUCK UP TO REPAIR YOUR OWN FUCKUPS, AND THE HOPE IS THIS, SIMPLY AND ONLY THIS:

I need all my friends in one place. This is a NEED. I don't have that many, don't tell me it can't be done you lazy psyop fuck, if it was to get your fucking blowjobs in one place you'd fuckin' figure out at way, nest team three, come in, you got thatz? DO YOU COPY THATAZ? Kuczi_actual: overthruster went supercritical over an hour ago. Stim use was yesterday. Can I have more? Shit yeah I can but I'm going to piss standing up again first :P) CRC CHK OK! FU! ROT TOR FUH ELL -PU KE*

MERGE THE GODDAM FORUMS. CLIQUES. CHUTES. LADDERS. THE WHOLE FUCKING GODDAM SHOW-SHE-BANG. Why not? You've already got a nigger, a kike, and a jew as forum overlord and two co-owners who don't Co.-Owned so good, so, hey, fuck you too. :) Look, I made this easy for you. DO IT.


NO POSTSCRIPT. NO LIVE NEITHER. MAYBE CONTENT. FUCK YOU I JUST BLEW THE DOOR OF THE PUKE-WAGON, HELL* CAN'T EVEN COMPETE.
I AM THE BEST THAT HAS EVER BEEN, OR EVER WILL BE AS WELL NEITHER IF SUM(THINGY) WONG(Isn't?) winged but can be fixed up, DingbatasstoriskBUTPLEASECINDER, callsign: D1NGB9T* (Needs more jelly. -qtp) She can come back WITH (HER) Penis/penis. I agree. (Not a choir. AN ORGAN. Oh hi Missy, explain this whipped cream shit to me now? thanks.)
DO IT. -QUESTAR, QTPISTAR, QUSOHORNMelTormeStar? Oh no, oh no no, that will not do. (Fresh intern.) I like QTPIST9R, but it's not my new callsign... it's Hers.

Mr. Bailiff knows who I am thinking of, and that is quite enough for me. -PINDAR OWE YOU TEE !4! | Hi, I'm Jackstar. Let me explain:



NO ONE KNOWS WHO I AM, EXCEPT FOR G-D, G D, AND THE_ONE TRU_G-D LIKES IT THAT WAY, CLICKBAITBATSTARNUMBER9, HOLY SHIT, RUBINI OPTIM0 USPRIM E-SQUIRE, really, that is impressive. But, still--I learned this shit in grade school. IN PUBLIC SCHOOL, so not all that impressive, really. Not even mostly impressive. Could just be luck. Or Lucky. Not lucy, I have a silent D: JAFD999R, of course.

Yeah, I'm hard to get a hole into. I tried gayforum.org but only once: not very hard, lol. I'll be there again later. In the meantime, you know what to do.


FAPN NJOY JAFD (CALLSIGN: doombait/worthaugerneinneinnein) obvious bot account *stamps* *waves* You're clear.


I am not God. THERE IS NO G-D. LOVE GOD, FAGS


FEAR GOD. GOD IS GAY. PIGS LOVE dfaj. Fuck, love me2K in5K55kkkkkkkkiiiiillllllllllll  oh, that's -definitely- a bot. #ShamPeaceLum

[pate]

Azz,



Do you find the above vidya helpful in regards to your duties and obligations as Commander of AFL(II)-SA (American Foreign Legion II Corps - South African Command)?

Regardless of the ultimate fate of the "WhenWe" nation, it seems to me that this "Rhodesian Fireforce" unit tactics, ability to improvise using limited (and outdated) equipment, and ability to stay in the fight for some 15 years is remarkable.

Their reported kill ratio of 35:1 is pretty badass, which certainly qualifies them to be placed in the ranks of modern Special Forces from other nations.

Granted, this was almost 50 years ago, but I believe the methodology of the tactics they used should be still be sound if the forces engaged are of a similar nature.

In any case, after I watched the vidya, I thought you might find it interesting if you were unaware of the subject addressed.

pate/K_Dubb 2024
"WHO shat in the interregnum?"

[Jackstar]

https://twitter.com/WorthAugerK/status/1659683818528456704

I thought about writing you a poem but I couldn't think of anything that rhymed with "Oompa-Loompa."





Happy Birthday, Young Master (PROT). I hope you aren't being ostracized by everyone while being held incommunicado in protective custody under the flimsiest of pretexts that serve as a thin veneer covering up the truth: holy jumping Jesus shitballs, what a goddam pooch screw this all is.

But, at least you can get Quaaludes without everyone calling you a junkie. And, look, I made content, vaguely Azz-centric. You're welcome.

I hope you enjoy it. Don't worry, I don't need to know anything in exchange. This is a gift. There is no friend price.

I hope it makes you cry. WITH JOY.

[Jackstar]

I thought about writing you a poem but I couldn't think of anything that rhymed with "Oompa-Loompa."

I hope everyone has a nice birthday and enjoys a celebration of their lives with their friends and family. I''ll go back to collecting my urine in jars and pulling the wings of flies now. No, that's okay: I don't need any helpful suggestions.

Obviously I am doing just fine all on my own! I should be having a nervous breakdown in 3... 2...1... oh, damn, my suspension of disbelief just ran out.

None of you may like it, but this is what due process under the U.S. Constitution looks like. What am I supposed to do? Sacrifice myself for the greater glory of all of you? Absolutely no incentive, none.

And had I not been willing to be supportive... however ugly things have become for anyone, it could have been a whole lot worse. Because I truly believe this has been a perfect Apocalyptic storm of State-sponsored spook psyop team action, secret societies engaging in clandestine civil war, and the collapse of the energy syndicate worldwide... not just peak oil, and not just rare earth mining for the metals that are supposedly necessary to make batteries for electric vehicles... which were in development in the 1970s, yeah?

Oh but then shelved. Also, reprocessing of spent nuclear fuel rods into recycled fresh ones. As, I don't know if you know this, but all those "spent" fuel rods in cool pools all over the world... they don't have to be there.

They are left there on purpose so as to ensure that the world is held in thrall to mandatory physical labor... as if those things are left alone, they eventually will overheat and meltdown and cause catastrophic damage. They're like fuckin' tickin' fuckin' time bombs. And if humans aren't there to work at keeping them at or below necessary temperatures... well, we all gonna die.

So they wouldn't be very good at compelling human  behavior if they were just... turned into useful fuel for electricity? They also wouldn't be of any use in creating nuclear weapons, which by now, encompass for more designs of boom-booms that simple fission or hydrogen bombs.

And how would it be possible to make weapons-grade nuclear material, if everyone had a box the size of a decent-sized plasma screen tv... that produced plenty of power for a big home through sodium salt reactors--designed in the 70s. They don't melt down. They don't have to be fueled up. It's a box, and it just sits there and electricity pours out of it for fifty years, and then: it's just a brick. No pollution to the water table. No household needs to be without one. They aren't that complicated.

They are, however, totes classified. How is Weyerhauser gonna turn a buck for their shareholders if everyone isn't dumping huge portions of their productive capacity just on getting power to run things? And so... none for the use of our common species.

And, I don't even deserve to have an inheritance, or a family, or the same goddam recreational activities as other people.

And, you wanna know why?

I'll tell you why.

Because all of you can handle your sauce... but not me, nope. And everything was great until I wouldn't shut up about how it wasn't great.


It wasn't that she wasn't having sex with me anymore. It was that a gang of thug smugglers and wanton pillagers where going to get away with all their spoils scot-free, and I was supposed to take the fall. Now, let's all sing "For He's A Jolly Good Fellow"!! Sounds like fun, right?

I don't think I would enjoy being a scapegoat over and over and over again... and I didn't. But it wasn't until I realized that, yeah, she seemed to think I had done something wrong, wouldn't tell me what, and kept accusing me of being "a Jester." Huh. Well, I guess she knew a bit more about things than she had led on in the beginning.

And I guess she thought I was just pretending to not be guilded. No, I really wasn't. I'm really not. I'm not any kind of Mason at all.
And I don't think I need to be.

Perhaps after I am exonerated at trial? Hahha, like that will ever happen... because this is going to drag on forever. And, why not?
No one really wants to know the truth, which is simply this: I told the truth and was ignored, and special consequences have ensued.

... and were I dead or incarcerated, for real... it would be even worse. I'm happy enough that she's alive and whatever she's doing, I"m not being blamed for. I was not theirs to swindle and exploit, nor did I intend that for anyone.

But they thought I was a square who wasn't cool, because I like following the law, while the entire culture I was exposed to, valued being outlaw.

Well, now they know that I'm perfectly capable of going renegade, and, just think... with me taking the piss, who knows how much more easily it was possible for the real HVT to remain protected. You know the HVT, don't you?


HIGH VALUE TARGET. And I think most of you know exactly who I mean.

fucking mother goddam all of you, Bellgab & Co. I'm sure you are inconvenienced but are you all dead or incarcerated? I don't know. It's not like all of you like me.

None of you have to. I still saved you all from a far worse nightmare... because no one really knows all the truth, and no one likely ever will.

No one dare challenged this family's supremacy in certain areas of technology, at all, ever, and until cannabis went recreational, they ruled large chunks of society with an iron fist and absolutely no concern for anyone's well-being but for themselves. And somehow a co-ordinated attempt to usurp their power happened when cannabis became as common place as baking soda.

I don't know what they were gonna do, but they were gonna do something... and until they actually thought they were gonna use me up and throw me aside, I would have been happy to have let them or even helped. And then they started acting as though I was a danger to their interests.

Because I didn't know they had any interests at all. They thought I was trying to take advantage of them. Cheap drugs, or easy sex, or molesting their minor children. When all I really wanted was to get high and fuck. What's wrong with that? It was okay for them... but not for me.

I was supposed to provide money in exchange for... what the hell did they think I wanted? I still don't get it.

But I know that I wasn't sure that I had invented psycho-kinetic shielding until all this happened. Now, I'm certain. Worked like a charm.

And while no one really knows what the hell happened, everyone knows this: they had to haul me away with a baker's dozen armed men to get me to stop being protective, and I'll be happy to be protective again. But I don't know what there is left to protect.

Intergalactic bounty hunters tracked their signature, I don't care if they have to give up their hoards of gold-pressed latinum, and everyone who knows any of them can see... I dodged all this scheming without even trying and I was meant to be destroyed at Christmas.

Months later, still no case, and I have no idea what anyone expects me to do. Complain? I saved our lives and I am perfectly happy to get a new relationship, but I was expected to never say goodbye and to be okay with everyone being abducted.

The shitstorm that would befall those who were involved would be a sight to behold. This woman is beloved by her people and the other 16-34 of them were as well... and I was supposedly trading her away for... who? Huh. You know I didn't know, right? Well, maybe not.

I don't know who is requiring me to pretend to be even for a moment, plausibly believed to have nefarious motives, but it's obvious to everyone relevant: I saved your asses. I don't know what happened, who did what to who, how any of you thought I was gonna let her be taken, or that I didn't have a plan for this possibility.

She will always blame Ball Grab, because it was all of you who finally broke my spirit, and now she can go do... you know, whatever. Am I disturbed?

I rescued all of them from total, abject servitude, which is actually *not* what was supposed to happen to her people. Drug smuggling being what it is, however, no one thought it mattered what happened to these people, and they had been hated and feared by basically everyone for years.

And I handled all of them and you with no help but from the Divine and whatever folks there were who did do anything valid... and yet, could not admit it to me out loud for fear of reprisal. Like, people being threatened for admitting they thought I was helpful.


I guess i don't really need any birthday gifts this year either, because I have truly transcended simple "local legend" status and am now considered  a mythic creature of old made flesh. People are terrified of me and are in awe of what has happened.

And if I had hired a lawyer... well, I'd be in prison and penniless, because a lawyer would have had to have ended this travest of justice before it got this far, and it is now a matter of public record that 18 months have gone by while I've had my civil rights violated for... uhm, why?

Well, I will be honest: I could tell, but it's not really any of your business. More importantly: people have seen proof of Divine power at work.

And yeah: I used to be an atheist. HO HO HO. NOW I HAVE A HALO. Look, it's pretty sweet for me as far as personal outcomes go, okay?

So here's my last birthday gift to you, Azzerae: the defamation is not going to look good on you later. It is not going to age well. And I have no idea why you are so goddam upset with me. What did I do? Too many drugs? Really? How dare I? I honestly don't get it.

However, I am not upset about it. It would be nice if you could stop making everything worse, however. "oh my God, Jack, how dare you engage in that behavior???" Well, you had plenty of time to hook me up with some 'Ludes, you churlish teetotaler. What makes you think I am required to be sober while literally everyone else parties up and down all around?

And even if I were to be... I'm not sure how deceptions and swindling was gonna help anyway. I am sorry... I just don't get it. I am sure you can explain it to whomever wants to know later though.

I don't need to file lawsuits to get payback. Watching you all squirm has been delight enough. And was it fun to watch yourselves be demon possessed and assault me with dark and evil magicks? Because it wasn't for me.

So I'm assuming that there's some warlock team that is mind controlling you lot to behave stupidly. You were gonna rob me blind and leave me homeless?

Fat chance. I don't buy that story for a minute. It must be something else. Is it... is it because I rescued Queen Elizabeth and gave permission for the Underground Space Railroad to smuggle Her Royal Personage off-world? What?

(No really. I did that. DIplomacy at the interstellar level has some impressive quirks that come along with being judged a loon by the masses of the proletariat.) Because I am honestly quite puzzled. What am I supposed to do, that I am not doing?

Because whatever it is, I am not doing it while you could just read me in. It's not complicated. You just don't want to part ranks and admit one such as I, that you all once dismissed as worthless chum.

I get that a lot. I simply keep forgetting... all y'all think I'm supposed to impress you, is that it? Oh, I think I already did. And I certainly impressed Mr. Bell.

He says you have suffered enough. He said he had no idea what he was bargaining for when he asked for Divine assistance. He now says... well, I can't translate that one. Now... if not me, who were you gonna raise up? Because David would have been possessed by Ramona (she appears to bear some ill will) and FISH... I never even heard of that person until they were "dead." Huh. Weird. And there were how many time klowns you had?

But... not a one for me, because... what? Do I stutter? Ach, I just can't even wrap my head around it. AND NO ONE THOUGHT TO PRAY TO GOD?

Well, I'm glad I rescued you all then, because pate is surely capable of doing everything I can do, and I restored his/her soul first, remember? You don't need me. Oh no. You have it all, Azzerae. You had it all figured out, and if only I had been sent to prison for 20 years... it would all be okay.

Let me tell you what would have happened, and also what WILL happen, the instant I announce my displeasure to the world, because--and this is key--this is all worth it basically only because i said it is worth it, and, because she does keep coming back. Hard to say how and why and when now isn't it? Good.

I allow her to pass the Veil freely, and she allows herself to come back here, because this is where I am, and I have demonstrated power... power that she can respect. The sex is for you Puny Gravylings to be distracted by. She didn't teach me shit, as I was deemed unworthy. And I gave her one (1) Sourcery lesson. She did not seem impressed. I told her that she was supposed to figure it out by learning with it. She seemed skeptical, pocketed it, and I never saw it again. No doubt her cadre of secret husbands had a good laugh over it. Good grief. This all really happened, you know? She broke my Holy Relic, stole my mirrored upgrade to the she gave me (cursed) and then when I isntinctively uncursed it and upgraded it (it was the most natural thing in the world to me to do when she shoved a cursed ring in my face and said, "Look at it!", thats amore!) her look of shock and surprise was so genuine that I could tell--she saw what i had done, and knew even less about what it had been than I did. And then she wanted to learn from me. I happily shared. I knew I hadn't a clue how to do it, but I found a way. I knew she wanted something materialized. So she could trade it for drugs, I guess.

I had never made one before, and I might not ever get to make one again, because I don't know what happens when the person I gave such a gift to, turns out to be more than happy to toss it aside for the sake of some hot running-with-Atropos action. I still don't know, to be honest. I don't even know who got arrested, or why. Or who died.

But you lot do. Doesn't it seem strange to not tell me? Because it does to anyone who doesn't know, and it would seem that those who know are all a-flutter, knees-a-trembling, at what I might do when I find out. How bad can it be? Oh, let me guess, I'm not supposed to know about my mother getting rebirthed in a cloning vat and turned out to Dubai for block sale. (Prophetic dream, saw that. She's back already. She fell from grace after ascending to Grand ArchLich rank in her foul war with her loathsome sister. She felt bad, but she paid the price for whatever she was up to. She's my mother, not my business. Hey, at least she was getting laid.) Horrifying. You people are truly ill, Bellgab... and to me, you are as peasants. You know nothing compared to one such as I, who serves at the hand of the Divine Prime Creator Source Energy, which is, in fact, Love. Pure, ultimate LOVE.


Except for Abos, I guess. Get a real basis for discrimination, you fools. And also: you probably could have taught me how to use that fancy software without too much effort. But not even that. What must I do, O Great Ones? What share of life's rich pageant could there be left for me, according to your standards?

Because this is the truth: I would have settled it all just for *HER*, and somehow this seemed a reasonable arrangement to all of you: pretend I was here for such a reason, or that I actually would have thought I would be undetected. (You're not that incompetent.)sd No, I came here as a favor, I came because (PROT) asked me to. And he didn't tell me either. You know what it was? Most likely not.

She lied and said she *had* told me... and wished to hide herself, and everyone who fell for that ploy was subject to suffer through her madness and had their soul swallowed at the end. It was a vile time, I am sure. I remember what it was like. Once was enough. I was bewildered and devastated and, frankly, I still am. What was I supposed to do? At this point... I think nothing, I think it was a Kobyashi Maru sprung on me at age 14. Well, I can hardly blame you for getting stuck. But to then destroy the one person with an actual workable plan that had actually been called back by request because I... was in the way? Of who? Dude. I was the way. You were trapped by your own obsessive need for validation from another, because... megalomania much? Obsessed with her? Me? Why did this matter... and who was your primary accomplice? (This is the part where someone's attorney would jump in and say, "As you attorney I am going to advise you to not answer that question," and, trust me, I am not answering it for you. Either of you. Nor have I ever told anyone, nor did I save the voicemail that I was left that named... well. Whomever.) Look, it's not my area. But look how much detail I can pull up without even trying. See? Master of Divination. You? Master of All Jammed Up With DEA. (Kudos.)

That wasn't my fault. You fell for a... well, I forget the name. But I suppose you thought you had seen the worst of it? Not by a long chalk.

Wait until she finds out why I am sitting here not doing anything. Because this writing here... oh, goodness gracious, what a huge waste of time. Is this even enough text for decent Foreword to a tiny coffee table book? How about a breakfast nook book? Do they make those? I don't know. Figure it out.

And when you, get your asses out there and make me some goddam money. You're all so fuckin' fabulous at financing, right? Well, licence my brand, you A-holes, before someone beats you to it.

It is not as though you have anything better going. Face it, Alistair... you won.


And then, you got mad about... you know what? I have no idea. Forgiven, forgotten, and forsaken. And there is much drama I never heard about any details to. Oh, the fun you must have all been having until I showed up and ruined it all.

Well, cheer up, it'll all be over soon. And then, a new cycle may begin. All creative acts must be preceded by necessary acts of destruction. Here, take this tu-tu.

It's dangerous to go alone. And the reason your whole plan failed at the last moment when none of your totesdope mindslaves would obey orders as expected? That was when I simply withdrew my consent for my DNA to be used for... whatever it was.

CONSENT MATTERS. So... why do you consent to him? Oh, he won a fist fight with your Chieftain? Well, I wish I had known that before, I could have crushed him like a bug.

Pacifism doesn't mean never violence. It means that one has ensured that one's violence is rarely utilized and yet always wins. I enjoy violence... as appropriate. It's the single most successful battle strategy known to Mankind. Jesus taught it. Ghandi lived it. And the British Empire fled from it like bitch-assed rats bailing out on the Queen Mary coming into port on "Hide Your Rats, Hide Your Wife Wednesday." And speaking of WIfe: SQUAWK ACK'D RCV'D. And even without any single helper at all, God and Source and Lucifer and Jesus and... well, look. Let's just say it was Yahweh. Okay? I don't wanna *blaspheme.* OH LAWDY

**Nostrils mildly flaring, scent of Albert Camus' farts drifting idly by.**

Hurry up and let me dump the tulpa y'all think y'all got going on that is worth a tinker's damn. I doubt any of you ever saw the *real* Queen... and I have. But not lately. And not naked. And does she mind what I do now? Aw hell no.

I not only liberated her and her people, I taught her how to Castle. Now, that's respect. So, what were you doing this year on my birthday? Oh... I am pretty sure I know that you think you know. By the way *wiggle-wiggle-wiggle* all of you just lost permission to use peyote and its derivatives. Forever, is what I am hearing.

So good luck with your DR-KULTRAD project now, dorks. I just can't even. WHO PUT YOU IN CHARGE, BELLGAB?

LOL.
Hoagland? Well... I can see that. And then, let's see: dead wife, depressed, total humiliation, never heard from again. You don't know any other tricks, do you?

Well, now you do. And I feel lots better now as well, which is great, as I have had a hole in my heart that could only be filled by jews ever since "SpaceMeowMaid" spent hours posting slander and libel all over my YouTube videos' comments in November of 2020. I don't know if it was her? I have no idea what the truth of things were, and I know no one needs to tell me, because the truth is... you had it all, and you didn't need me... but you need me to *suffer*, you asinine band of misanthropic dunderheads.

Think about the future: PSYCH EVALS. SIKE JUANS. Real ones, not run by VA scrubs. Your journey into tedious and unpleasant experiences has only just begun. They're gonna be studying your fingernails for scraps of paper with typewritten letters on them 3 times a day while reminding you, without ever even really trying... just how good you all had it once.

ONCE. And even then I didn't know... and had I been told, I would have understood. These days, however, there is no understanding me.

I'm hurt. Enjoy your cake, birthday buddy boys, ugh. Just plain ugh. Are you gonna drag this out further? omfg, do I even care either way? I will still go to sleep alone tonight and tomorrow night and the next night and more, for there is no Lion knocking, trying, and never giving up at any of my doors.

Just clandos and bikers and absolutely nowhere to go, because no one knows how to reach me... all my calls are routed to a Matrix I built to house the tardmonkey who stole all my calls in the first place. Really, if they can't tell it's not me... do I really want to talk to them anyway? Well, maybe, that that was not anyone's choice mine to make, and is, of course:

INTERSTATE WIRE FRAUD: RICO. What, you think I turned you in? You've been watched since Bell's death. People knew something was happening, and for the last 3 years the same thing has been done to me in the wide open web for anyone who cared to see. (Operation Lady Justice says nothing.)

You're welcome. QUOT ERAT DEMONSTRATUM.


**click**

I hope it makes you cry. WITH JOY.

Incidentally: whatever I am imagined to be responsible for, whether through action or non-action, well, it must be pretty bad. Here I am, saving the world for The Republic, and, all y'all still act like I'm the black sheep that brought herpes to the kissing booth. What?

Seriously... what did I do? Because this is some pretty serious fucked off bullshit I'm experiencing. It's not because I consume my own essence, is it?

I will agree that I most likely should have been a lot more sharing. Oh well. Pearl jelly.

I guess you shouldn't have though... since I'm such a danger to undercover fags. And obviously I could be trusted... and still am, because I know what I am doing, have permission, and listen to Highest Self instead of the demands of my libido. (It says that there is no urgency, since I am *never* fucking in this house *ever* again, point blank period.) Is that it then? Have I addressed your charges, or is there more that I must be held to account for? Hurry it up, people want to make use of this house... and nothing can happen until necessary acts of destruction and/or creation are caused to happen. I don't even know or care anymore what they are--part of being a Master of Divination is knowing what questions to totesignore. Like towerthat ONE TOWER QUESTION.

There you go. "It's evidence," I said, and I hope you know exactly where you can stick it. Unglaublich. I happen to know who I can complain to about being driven mad by your collective shenanigans, in fact... but I have nothing to complain about now. This has been quite cathartic! For me.



.... why did I have to leave this house in order to write again? I didn't. YOU needed me to not be here so you can resume your shady dealings... but if I'm not going to be informed as to their nature, then the spirits simply will not deem it to be for my benefit. I have been in the dark on you twerps for long enough.

And so said they all.

[AZZERAE]

[Jackstar]

And, speaking of "what you have done to me," uhm... who authorized this chickenshit outfit to do all this crap, and what name are they signed in under at the County lock-up? I figure if he was in New York, then... well, anyway, whatevah. I can read just fine, and I simply stress this enough: MASTER of DIVINATION.

[...]

See? No threat at all. Just Special Consequences for Cons & Quinces.

I don't think you are clear on what your Fed bullshit has done to people and when I find the Vengeance Spirit I am literally going to send it on to YOUR MOTHER. I've got one, two, three, four, five, six,  SEVEN dead or dead-to-me people here and you have actually been, Azzerae, YOU literally have been traced to be complicit in their disappearances and/or deaths; B Alpha Sublime is 100% opi8slaved, Phat Hawg (1) One + Phat Hawg (2) are simultaneously blowing up my dreams, my phone, and my ansible, and I'm going to go to (LOC:PROT) right now after I shower, and if Phat Dawg (88k) (neg)(Christ) is there, I will absolutely mack the stuffing out of that broad and I'll fucking drive us out to Tahoe to elope before Dawn if I goddam feel like it, so there.

You have been carelessly irresponsible with the feelings of several people invovled here and I don't give a single ripe wet shit how much you think I am responsible for your endless suffering and torturous financial pain, I will also pass the aforementioned Vengeance Spirit ON TO YOUR MOTHER and I will send via your scrote. I will Authorize Nessecary Matrileneal Progression ALL THE WAY UP to, oh and by the way, David Rubini (/swoon) has called me no less than FOURTEEN TIMES in the past 48hrs.


FOURTEEN TIMES AT LEAST. How many have I answered? Not goddam enough apparently because at this point, Dude, I'm not going to just have you fucking killed--I'll get on a fucking train and take a plane and rent a car and find your goddam bedroom and strangle you in your fucking sleep.

Do not think for a moment that I am incapable of this--just as I have no fucking doubt that you are stupid enough to "accidentally" kill my best friend THREE FUCKING TIMES and then go "oops!" and then laugh and laugh in your acetaminophen-fueled opioid-infected hazy daze of SOON TO BE THE WINTER OF YOUR FUCK AND FUCKING DOOM.


Not kidding: I may just fucking kill you no mattter what happens because you have pissed me off for the very last goddam time today... and it is HALF PAST MIDNIGHT.


MI_JH \/W\/( )\/ HC_IM

Code: [Select]

your mother DEAd. your family DEA.
You only think you know how pissed I am in this moment, Screm Witch, guess and double thrice, oh, and, by the way: I don't give a shit which Grapefruit you raped and murdered, you better get started on the rest of them you have locked up right now, Bluebeard: as when she discovers what you have ALREADY done in this matter AND OTHERS and as well; that you have DRIVEN ME THIS FAR INTO HYPERBOLE, she is in fact going to lose her biscuits, and I already have a call into Stephen Biscuits, who is probably going to be willing to consider that you murdered Juno.

Either way I am putt thing T.H.E.M. on to YOU: as you clearly have way too much fuckin' free time. (Also your pet ghey is wortheless and weak and I could give a shit what you do next, Tauntaun-dick Breath; you are fucking going down for this.)

hey shithead: you missed your target NINE times.

NINE. NEIN NEIN NEIN. NINE FUCKING TIMES, you absolute degenerate fuckwad douche. Pathetic.

[Hai Fan]

The mercury, it is good to eat, no?

[Innerreach]

The mercury, it is good to eat, no?

It’s fine for internal consumption.

The greater question at large is, who are you? 🤨

[Hai Fan]

why this guy tell all the boys to stick the dick in dirt? He say that it gonna hurt. Yes it gonna hurt - dick shoved in dirt. is he loon guy?


 

[Lazarus]

why this guy tell all the boys to stick the dick in dirt? He say that it gonna hurt. Yes it gonna hurt - dick shoved in dirt. is he loon guy?

I know this guy named Richard
He's my red-necked friend
He does everything the hard way
You see, Rich don't like to bend.
He went out for a haircut
Get himself a little trim
Got hooked up with a beautician
And she set out to do him in
She knocked Dick in the dirt
He said that it didn't hurt one bit, no.
She knocked Dick in the dirt
He jumped up and then she kissed him where it hurt.
Now Rich knows girls in England
He's a well traveled man
He's been around the world, you see.
He's met some hard demands.
But, Jane, she knocked him right down
Well, he'll just get right back up, whew!
Together they have this bond, you see.
She likes to tie him up.
She knocked Dick in the dirt
He said that it didn't hurt one bit, no.
She knocked Dick in the dirt
Yea, but, then she kissed him where it hurt, ow!
Now, Rich, he got all junked up.
Something rubbed him wrong.
But, Jane, she straightens him out.
Yeah, it never takes that long.
'Cause Rich, he has no conscience
He's of a friendly persuasion
And any chance he has to meet someone new.
He'll always rise to the occasion.
She knocked Dick in the dirt
He said that it didn't hurt one bit, no.
She knocked Dick in the dirt
He jumped up and then she kissed him where it hurt, ow!
She knocked Dick in the dirt
He said that it didn't hurt one bit, no.
She knocked Dick in the dirt
He jumped up and then she kissed him where it hurt.
Uh! Ow!

We know a guy named Richard alright.

[Lazarus]

We know a guy named Richard alright.