what if we kithed in the new blue reflecting pool while Madam Vice President was inaugurated in January 2029?
The New Formula requires these five components.
#1) Presidential authorization. (This can be secret. Thank him for me and Dian{e|a}.)
#2) A Superfund to hazmat clean up this AND ALL OTHER BLACKSITES. I don't know how many you have. I'm pretty sure they're all f***** up, just as bad as this one. The good news, it'll be a lot easier to clean up than your typical f***** off drug site because for one thing you've been doing it wrong, for another, I can help you, for a third. I'm surprisingly cheap. (USD$1,000,000 per month consultancy fee, $50,000,000 per site cleaned, 7-year contract, backdated to Christmas Eve 2021, BACK PAY IS DUE IMMEDIATELY, yes, that means $60 million NOW, and then another $50 MILLION when I tell you how to actually clean My Residence and you actually get it done, and then you'll know what to do and I'm sure I will never see another dime. That's why this is the arrangement.) What isn't cheap are volunteers and bribes. You're going to need a lot of bribes. I suggest you take your usual amount of budget (do you actually budget for this, or did you just kill everybody? Who knows that the place is filthy and then get new people? I retract the question, DEA, YOU WERE ALL SUCH ASSHOLES, now you're unemployed), and then quintuple it, and then divide by the number of sites you need to have ⟩⟨-sponged. At a guess you have one in each FEMA region? I suppose it's classified. (I also suppose your DEA Czar is a flaming f****.) Whatever, I'm not in charge of numbers. Not in charge of anything at all. That's why you're all failing. All the other black sites have a Lord of their Demesne as well. They're probably unaware of their status. But they're probably aware that you all suck (the life out of Humanity with your bullshit dopeslave technology). IN ANY EVENT: THIS COULD BE SECRET TOO. (But your pineal gland is calcified. *wiggle wiggle* Now it has cholera. So there.)
#3) The chemical formula. You probably think you have this already. You don't. The Inventor, The Patent Holder, and Their Champion hold it
beyond the heliopause. (Which just *wiggle wiggle* shut down. Obviously my wormholes are absolutely available for travel; PAY THE TOLL. $19,500. Per ATOM. Ask about our frequent wormholer loyalty program!) Someone will need to contact them, somehow, and then, somewhere, take a meeting. I'm not saying you need an Algonquin shaman who can access the Astral plane and hold an Astral meeting hosted by a Fæ Royal whose breath doesn't smell like liquor and old cigarettes, but that'd be a good place to set the bar and start looking. Do you know any Algonquin shamans that you haven't pissed off yet?? Yeah me neither. Good luck Chuck.
#4) A Royal Assayist. You probably have a bunch of people who think they are qualified. They probably are. How many of them want to have heterosexual sex? I'm guessing zero. In any case, that's not the super important part, the important part is that they need to be willing to risk their life, and the super important part is that their brain won't melt from cognitive dissonance when they accidentally pop into another dimension. Odds are pretty good that's going to happen. Think Philadelphia Experiment. Remember the
USS Ronald Reagan. And ask yourself the following question: why did the mind controlled sailors turn into the radioactive current with their seapumps open full throttle? To get to the other side! *wiggle wiggle* That's just me scratching my nose. It itches. Moving on.
#5) The New Blessing. This is my area. You get all that other stuff done, and then I'll be asking you about your old blessing, and if you don't have anybody around left who has knowledge of the old blessing, I'm going to need to know, how long it's been since you've been blessing the stuff. Because this is a total f****** embarrassment.
Just how much of your fargin’ dirty work do I have to do? People come over yesterday. They want me to buy fentanyl with a little bit of CM in it. Why the FUK would I get it from them, and then why the FUK can't I make it, and then why would I want it anyway? It's been nearly 5 years and no one's told me what the FUK I was supposed to do with an ounce of crystal, I have no idea what to do with it. So why the FUK would I buy any? It costs pennies to make. (You only need a superlab to make supermassive quantities. I don't need supermassive quantities. I don't need a superlab. IT CAN BE DONE IN THE GARAGE. The neighbors probably make it there all the time. (And then they die without permission, but oh well. Permission: it is no small thing.)
And with Lit City Anthony driving the bruiser and pate's wife trying to close the deal, they need money too, wow. Nobody's buying dope from the Alpha Draconan Heirarchy anymore? THAT'S BECAUSE YOUR DOPE SUCKS AND YOU'RE KILLING PEOPLE. NO MAYBE. ACTUAL HAPPENING. Gosh!
I don't care. I wanted a pizza. You want a new formula for crystal methamphetamine. And God wants nothing at all. So this makes bribing us a remarkably difficult proposition. Now I'm going to call this guy who owes me money who just so happens to have a wife that I used to have my dick inside, what can I say? We have similar tastes, and he owes me money, and hopefully he'll have money to give, nobody seems to have money, nobody seems to have food but you want crystal methamphetamine.
And supposedly I'm the drug addict. Right. Take my advice, don't bother Craig Ferguson yet.
