The job market is highly competitive.
The fake-your-death-and-pretend-to-grow-a-dick market, OTOH, seems highly cooperative; in that it seems to have taken four gay Jezebels inhabiting four force-grown foreign-
born hatched for the use of law enforcement to sally their salty, salaried asses forth to get your formidable sex cult under control while under Federal investigation for various & sundry sex crimes themselves. (Looks good on μou and your ewe though.)
Formally, I didn't get the job of chronicling the Chronicles of Chronically Smoking Chrono∆`gents. #Officially: no such job even exists. Nevertheless, the perks are
incredible. Some days, I think that I don't even need to ever get paid at all!
Other days, I look at the rubble and debris that ruthless squads of vandalizing hooligans have reduced My Residence to — this place used to be an oasis; it is now a pit of filth and squalor, thanks Gabe! — and wish I could buy a cigarette to smoke while surveying the damage... instead of merely waiting for another passing Traveler to “stop by” and look at me pityingly while I unashamedly seek to bum a smoke off of them.
“Get a job.”
FUCK YOU. Get a clue, whole Lee shit. I'm so sick; sow, so sick of your asshole fake spouse and their real asshole, fake identity that the no small amount of ambition that I arrived here with has been wholly transmuted into one fervent, burning desire: to publish manuscript on paper that one can roll tobacco + weed with. Why not? It'll be like a Advent calendar. Every page turned can lead the reader to another nail in the coffin.
Jim; Joe; Tim; |_μ; et al.; take your jobs... and shove them, where the sun does not shine. YOU douchemasters work at menial labor employment for minimum wage in order to SERVE AS COVER for your real career work as...
Well. Ewe know. (You) know. Most people figure it out, eventually. Could all of you make it any more obvious? Probably not without wearing horn-rimmed glasses, preceding “mild-mannered” to your full legal name on all your identification, and taking every 15-minute break every four hours in a phone booth.
Figure it out: YOU PEOPLE LIVE AND WORK IN A SET OF NESTING BUBBLES. (>Kudos.) Good. Great. That's great for you. Meanwhile your collective shenanigans and the shadow of their consequences has slowed the spread of The Fallout across The Land... not at all. Not even a little bit. You're not really getting away with anything.
№, no, know: 🅿️EOPLE>KNOW. Without being at all obvious about it. A life built on a ceaseless cartwheel crossing State lines from one carnival’s cloakroom to another’s kitchen in the ultimate simulation of migrant labor: ©ΩΠ†μ Undercover Cannonball Run (HER) Down 2: Electric Avenue to pick up them booger-nosed bratlings for the continued eligibilities of child support and Social Security benefits, woo-whee! I bet that was a fun fuckin’ time. I bet it still is.
Nevertheless: your fun fucking time is fucking over, and if (PROT-shitbag) and/or (PROT-fuckwad) want to sit around on (PROT-comm.platform.faggot.Feds.use) [
names withheld by №t_Google for security reasons] and instruct me with increasingly contemptuous language on the necessity of “cleaning (your) house” and “getting a job” we're all going to see exactly what I can do about any of that: exactly what I have been doing.
And more of īT. (Facts.)
Do another one, maybe I'll call in (no Promises) and we can discuss the curriculum on my impending new degree enrollment into the Millwright program at the local Community College once I knock this CSIS degree out of the way this semester!
Z•—GG<3® YOU CAN'T EVEN FIGURE OUT THAT YOU'RE ALREADY HIRED BY A HIGHER HIGH AUTHORITY.
WTAF! I feel like I'm taking crazy pills! Obey my dog!
It's cute that you're all defending The Homeland against unlawful collection of welfare. Except, you're not. You're simply engaged in a dog-and-pony shell game show to waste everyone's time so as to increase the likelihood that investigators won't penetrate your Ring Of Inner Trust and take core samples of your rich, creamy nougat filling.
I'm pretty goddam sure they have done that already. (
See above, re: 🅿️EOPLE>KNOW.) Meanwhile what hasn't been done is... well, I'm just going to say it's [CLASSIFIED] and say little to nothing more about it, as I have no wish to either embarrass or terrorize certain
key members of the civilian population.
&ABD/Or their little dogs
too as well. (This is America. We don't frighten bitches to death here; we let the proletariat untermensch servant class bend them over a sawhorse while smoking cigars lit with $100 bills in the remote SCIF-enabled parking facility.) You salty-crusty lot of mad bastard
schweinhund fuckers know all this, so it may be a fair question: why am I taking the time to point this out, all explicit–·s¡-i?
Two reasons. Number one, I just like the way it accents the available whitespace, and number two: her name was Jewel. (Fuck your competitive job market and fuck you two too.)
Reminder: your collective makes non-zero amounts of actual cash money from the traffic generated by the content posted on this and other websites under your
direct command and control and because your meth-fueled hunger for plausible deniability is a voraciously seething, bottomless vacuum of civil and criminal liability, it obviously has not occurred to any of you (nor has anyone in any position to do so, gently suggested) that all you have to do is... hire me.
ding-ding-ding!! With one deft maneuver, several dozen problems instantly vanish, amir¡†e?
Unfortunately: I simply refuse to work for Canadian peacenik Boomer-bourgeoise Jezebel-fagin scum. (Standards.) We could have had it alllll! Rolling in the deeeeep!!
Pass.
Adieu.
