There was a lot to unpack today.


#1) The headline is the trusty f***** up and transferred ownership of the house legally in a way that did not involve telling me that he was going to do that and I guess he didn't figure that he had to but he actually did because the spirits that watch over this demeanor of mine are not really happy with the b******* that's going on cuz they see everything. They just don't know what to do about it and when they do know it do about it, they generally do it without telling me as well. But they oftentimes do tell me because the telepathy from dead Spirits that wander this land is more reliable than the voicemail from the trustee who's been breaking the law up and down. I left right and sideways for his whole f****** life. I guess because I guess he didn't figure that there would be a problem with doing this without telling me, when they're f****** very well was. Long story short, they've spirits have decided to do another cycle of identity identification, which is involving a whole bunch of karmic puzzles and other s*** that Masons love. More on that. Later in days to come I'm sure.

#2) Allison is back. ACTUAL. You ain't gonna find her.

#3) Chefist is back. ACTUAL, I ARRESTED HIM ACTUAL. You are going to find him, most likely in a Raspberry PI built to hold five (5) BIG FAT FUK LYING LION CLANDO FUKS. I suppose it didn't look like it did in The Real Ghostbusters mostly because I am much cuter and far more intelligent than Egon Spengler, and I have my burial and superhuman ability. Enabled collection of spores molds and fungus between my toes. Between my eyebrows too if you want to be technical about it.

#4) The Trustee, Michael Franciscan Fran ©o. Grab-Gone-Istan-🐂 has committed what is, while not necessarily a crime per se, has flagrantly and (in my view) visciously BROKEN TRUST WITH THE BENEFICIARY (I don't have time to call and talk to the media and set up a press release, would you mind doing that for me dear? Thanks sweetheart.) AND IS VERY LIKELY TO END UP BEING DISBARRED. If this beetle Bailey reject was really a lawyer in the first place. University of America alumni. I bet you. In an uncharacteristic, yet stunning toward a force and in a surprise, move that telegraphs my my very likely inclusion into the future Hall of Fame for whoever keeps track of dual U.S./Galactic Citizens who really piss off the Space Corps lawyers, I'm not going to describe exactly in detail what he did to break trust with The Beneficiary, other than to say he sure as fuck did since he probably told the guy who's pretending to be me, more than that later, told them that they were selling the house, but then they didn't tell me and that's largely... because... Large Lē¡g!... Oh shit, he didn't actually break trust with me. Because I'm The Beneficiary. (I'm going to assume for the record that just in time Revelations of data that are perfectly timed to make everything work out perfect count as “keeping T rustμ”.) And whomsoever “bought” the house is just “The Patsy.” (Awkwardly, I know both Alfred & Bruce this time. Sexually. Awkward sex Ω Alli.) Or the Khaaaaaan neé Ace Sepultura. Hence, someone has just... LAUNCHED A NEW INVESTIGATION!!!


#5) Today is my real friend's fake birthday, and even though all of her funds that she expected to be getting unfrozen soon are now going to continue to be frozen. There is likely some kind of yesterday's sloppy seconds left over in an oven mitt tossed on a credenza if I were to stroll down there; I'm not strolling down there. I have actual work to do, People. Also, That_Woman hasn't answered my calls or called me back, EVER. (My R.👑BFF says it's not him that told her to blank me this time; but he reserves the right to have me ostracized from anyone by Royal Edict by virtue of Divine Right anytime he so chooses because, and I quote, I am “a real asshole.” He's a really insightful King. LONG MAY HE REIGN.) She's probably not real happy that I'm... on top of things here. However, good news, everyone! NOW HERE'S G.W.E.N. WITH THE WEATHER!!!

#6) As of about a week ago, I found myself starting to mention to select individuals during my various select conversations that still retain the ability for me to both improvise in and poop on, the time I met G.W.E.N. in the city of Castle Rock. It was not a very long meeting, the first time. But enough excitement happened that a great story is capable of being had. Speaking of being “had,” G.W.E.N. now looks like KSB, KSB now looks like someone else who does long-form soliloquy-centric talk on YouTube™ when it's convenient for them, and I don't know when the world's going to find out how YouTube™ makes it its personalities possible. So you had probably better assume that you're going to be nice to me, since I'm not going to talk about it and then someone's going to eventually. And then when they do you're going to have a public relations problem that's going to be significant, cuz I'm not going to explain to you why it's okay because I don't know that it is. I know it's very high-tech. Oh, so, so so high tech.

#7) The corn dogs in the freezer and the empty chocolate ice cream container in the firepit and the fake police parked in the very real mild-mannered RV in my front driveway are indications that Duper's Delight is not just a passing fad but a down home homie quaint tradition. (>Kudos.) Because let me see (*Sounds of Jackstar pointing at his head are heard.*) what's going to happen in the future: you're going to do this all over again. Maybe without the use of racial epithets and ethinc slurs. MAYBE.

#8) There's a flight capable car with nanotech powerative blade of armor parked in my driveway and I don't have the keys. I believe it's the TootsieMobile™ and she sure as shit doesn't have cancer. She has something else. And I have the cure. (That'll be $19,500 trillion dollars please. Trillion with a T, and dollars with cash. In advance. That's enough to buy you a bag of good coca, right? Haha just kidding. It's definitely not enough for a bag of good coca.) Now I don't know if any of you are capable of jacking a flying car with nanotech power to blade of armor, but if you want to give it a shot come on down to jackstar's used car auction, 1 mile west of I-5 off of exit 52, that's not area 52. It's just an exit 52 and then the area is down the road where I'm standing walking back and forth and pretty f****** fed the f****** with all this f****** b*******. F*** you Bellgab.

#9) It doesn't seem to matter too much to me if I get late or not, but apparently it matters to some extent who I'm actually married to and since there's some problems with that at the moment, more on that later, I don't know exactly what people we're going to do about it, but I'm going to work on trying to figure out how I'm going to explain how I'm going to handle 25 hotties lining up like The Rockettes every damn day for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I'm not really good enough, but I'm definitely smart enough and I hear they can do amazing things with cock pills these days. Amazing things. Maybe I could trade half of them to Albino Bob Ross for some Jeri Curl. It'd have to be a lifetime supply though, I think I'd only use it for lube, for the long-handled spoon to gag me to death with. That's about what would be preferable to foreplay at this point, for reasons, I'm going to leave murky for the time being. (Standards.)

#10) some a****** with an iPhone has been running around pretending to be me and the illusion is pretty decent because somebody who thinks that they've had sex with me and wants to continue having sex with me and thinks that I'm their wife is convinced that when they talk to me that I'm talking to them as if I am them and they're very confused and most likely about to lose their f****** mind when they discover that they haven't been talking to a wife at all. It was just an illusion in the first place, and I have nothing to do with it. I'm I'm once again the primary victim, another crime, and they're probably going to be really sad where they discover that they've been cheated out of a great deal of money and self-respect by deciding to make assumptions about me. Like that I'm stupid, or that I actually give a s*** about needle sex, or that I have anything to do with they what they think I have to do with, or that I'm going to fall for the simplest tricks in the world, or that tricking people and getting away with it is actually not a crime if you don't get caught. No, it's still a crime, dingbat.

#11):(11#
I'm still married and you're all UNFATHOMABLY SCREWED UP THE CREEK, and I don't think my secret Clan Dœ wife is going to let you use my d!≤K‽ as a paddle. That's HER d!≤K‽



There are more stunning revelations to be had, but right now I have to go get high again, because that's what I do, you know. Just constant getting high and whining about things and stuff on the Internet. That's all I do. That's my job. I'm not doing anything important. I'm totally f****** lying.

Reminder: CRIME DOESN'T PAY. Getting away with crime pays. Get the picture. I know you did. Lucky, lucky ewe.

Today is the day when the wheels come off. People who I have no actual relationship with — they just show up to do stupid psyop tricks while standing around with one hand in their pocket and they're usually holding a, cigarette — have begun the next phase of their ridiculous psychological operation, which has been their objective since the very beginning of whatever span of time they started with knowing of me at all.

As I never requested a squadron of clowns to be delivered to this ersatz Home and I certainly didn’t want a curated selection of various bags of trash to be the replacement for all of the belongings I've ever owned, all of which are gone and dust in the wind, I don't know what is next to come here.

My Residence has been delicately, yet deliberately, trashed and rendered uninhabitable by the aforementioned clowns. I've read about these things happening; I was pretty certain that the same thing would happen to me when I learned that my mother thought that a Special Needs Trust was going to be the way that she would choose to pass on her life's savings to me, and it is absolutely as annoying as I thought it would be.

Everyone is standing around and none of them know anything. None of them didn’t do nothing to me. It's the most pathetic display of imbecilic behavior I've ever seen in my entire life.

Finally, all those years of public school have paid off. I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

Cum get çum.™

Leila’s Life is the new Heather Wade 💀🔥.sys

Ramona Bell is, was, and always will to have been the audio content creator DBA/using the name “Heather Wade.” The story about your inhaler being “lost" was bandersnatch full-the-FUK⁰ⁿ->K©®∆🅿️. After Ramona’s death was successfully cashed in on from your/Ramona’s fake death certificate and a very real indeed life insurance policy, possible only due to the cooperation of a myriad and varied list of A-list celebrities and radio industry executive poonhound good ol’ boys lead by none other than THE RECENTLY REVOKED-IN-CHARTER HELLS♠ANGELS ♥MOTORCYCLE♣CLUB♦CONSPIRACY RINGLEADER ”T∞ts¡e”, A.K.A. “§.T.L. Smith–Smμthe–Sm¡†h (sic) Sick Six Sex, Team Çuk.sys, esQjvvire”; and due to the massive civil and criminal liability inherent in such an unfathomably diabolical spawning of WIDESPREAD SYSTEMIC FRAUD in the commercial underwriters’ foundational Ponzi-like-¡sh‽ financial structure — itself a massive and towering edifice of corruption, graft, double-dealing, PAYOLA, and Spe•CIA•l Execution of Coercive Terrorist Revenge & Extortion long-heralded as S P E C T R E in cantilevered balance with S M E R S H (acronym left undefined and thus, vaguely lovable out of respect for Desmond Q. Llewellyn and Ian Fleming, who you never saw getting into a phone booth together and trading sunglasses and hats and reacharounds, now did you? Good, good. Now guys, kids, children, and Assholez from Ellgab: HERE'S KING CHARLES WITH THE WEATHER.


J
E
R
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C
H
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In water one sees one's own face, but in wine one beholds the heart of another.

Hi, it's Jack. mⓂ️Ê! I am not Grimlock. (My penis is bigger.) I am not the leader of the Dinoboμs. (The >Kåījü >K©kc›🧲⟨⭕⟩K<combine©🅿️®¡ⁿ/NÇe vetoed their recent referendum; the Pacific Ocean will remain an Ocean, and not a “drylandlubber disadvantaged dæmon¡cK‽ Diaspora-Designated Depot ⁴4Dick-Mace-Sonz-DykeTμKEμ¡^¡√§⁰ⁿl_μ,μ¥Ⓜ️⭕№ⁿl,y” which is fairly fabulous news for anyone with any gender whatsoever, given that as submitted, the entire Pacific Rim Economic Zone, the Pacific Ocean, as well as Antarctica and potentially ANY, note that I'm using the word “any” here, any body of water on the surface of the third rock from the central Solar star, A.K.A. “Earth Sol”, as well as every cubic meter of coast and coastline and ALL PORTS, CUSTOMS HOUSES, LIGHTHOUSES, WINDMILLS, BARRIER REEFS, SEAFORTS, AND ANY AND/OR ALL SEA-BASED WEAPONS PLATFORMS (to say this would include “all Boomers” as referring to those born after WWII and known as The Baby Boom Generation was a matter next up for closed council Star Chamber debate until DÆ🅿️®!N©/Ê\ issued the veto) WERE TO BE PLACED UNDER THE DIRECT COMMAND &AND CONTROL &AND kCÜⓂ️ &AND kCÜNT &AND ROLL &AND ®💎>K≤🪨<OR &RULE® BE™E†∅†mⓂ️ET⭕Ⓜ️, which while not made quite clear, QUITE FRANK LEIGH, QUIET LEE, FRAN 🗝️, ALL IS ON FRANÇ.SIS.çessSi§§μ, quite literally, as the end result of all this Shiloh-weilding and shillelagh-worthy shenanigans were to have all economic power on the planet Earth currently held by the Triad of London, New York, and Zug, changed to be held by some leprechaun in Ireland (whichever one was supposed to get to the Blarney Stone to kiss it by the time a starting pistol went off, I s*** you not, it was supposed to be like a new Cannonball Run (WHICH IS WHAT OF COURSE THE WORLD NEEDS NOW WHILE I NEED A FUCKING SHOWER, YEAH GOOD JOB LOOKING OUT MATE, WORK ON THAT, I GUESS THAT COUNTS AS YOUR JOB WHEN YOU'RE NOT ON THE DOLE, YOU SLACKASS MICK-LIMEY-ET•FUK<), but of course the leprechauns that could teleport had already marked it out, not only is it their island but that it's also their Lodge that invented insider trading, OF COURSE IT WAS THE IRISH THAT INVENTED A WAY TO SELL STOCKS AND AN EASY WAS YO STEAL THEM AS SOON AS THEY INVENTED THE STOCKS, PROBABLY WHILE THEY WERE IN THE STOCKS EATING THE FREE POTATOES AND CABBAGE THAT THEY HAD THROWN AT THEM, BUT NOT EBT, THE PEOPLE WHO ARE THROWING FOOD AT THOSE IN THE STOCKS, THEY INVENTED IT TO SAVE THEIR PITCHING ARMS, the Suisse Cantons, now already taken over by the Oblivion AI, none of their citizens have money anymore and they think that's just great and fine and dandy, as long as they have they clocks and chocolates perpetually refreshed by tiny little gnomes in their ski chalets they don't care, they're landlocked. So what difference does it make? What happens to the world's ocean, cozlik there's really only One Ocean (IT'S ALL CONNECTED) and there's really only one Switzerland (but there's 13 cantons in Switzerland, SIMILAR TO THE ORIGINAL 13 COLONIES IN NORTH AMERICA EXCEPT INSTEAD OF THE APPALACHIAN MOUNTAINS ON ONE SIDE AND THE OCEAN ON THE OTHER THAT'S BETWEEN WHAT IS NOW THE FOREST OF CANADA AND THE SWAMPS OF FLORIDA, I MEAN DAGOBAH, surrounded by mountains, SWITZERLAND IS... HEY, IT'S TIME, IT'S TIME, WHAT TIME IS IT? IT'S TIME TO HATE THE SWISS, DEGAUSS THE SWISS S🅿️ÅÇErπ°R♦CEWÅrπ₹ NOW and one guy. Named Guy, or $BTC, or Bugzμ (sic), They were still figuring out which one was going to be the first one to take a turn when I started writing this and now they're trying to decide who's going to pay for the tickets to leave Albania, excuse me, I'm thinking of us instituting a rule. No profanity on the territory of My Demesne! SOW THERE, HAHAHA! B∞∞∞μ but go ahead and go ahead and GO HO HO HO curse ALL YOU CAN CURSE for the time being, for The T¥mE Being: there was going to be a contest (between just the three of them, and they were working on how to make it fair for everyone until I eliminated that equation from the problem) to decide who to place in charge of the second seat at the table, which makes sense colik, he would have been at the top of the Matterhorn or something, and then the last guy was going to be someone on Pitcairn Island, who is a non-person and an unperson and an un-alived person and an undead person and a Life-Disadvantaged person (who? I don't think it's a secret. I SURE DON'T THINK IT'S NOT NOT JOE ROGAN, that's for damn sure, oh btw, NO GRAPEFRUIT MEANS NO JACKSTAR, WE'RE A PACKAGE DEAL, ALSO SHE NEEDS SOME OF ABOUT LIKE 12 OF HER GIRLFRIENDS, AND I'M THE ONLY ONE WITH A D!≤K‽, #Officially, WHICH SHOULD BE OKAY WITH YOU, SINCE I WON'T PUT MINE ON TOP OF MY HEAD 😇), whomever The_One is, That_Persom lives also in Switzerland and can teleport between Pitcairn and Switzerland which makes this whole thing sound pretty shady, doesn't it? YOU BET YOUR SWEET LEMONADE-DRINKING ASS IT DOES.


Key takeaways:

#1) Don't trifle with my family either. NOTE: There are 19,500 of us. I think I'm the only one without a tattoo.
#2) Don't eyeball their tattoos or their gear or you'll lose an eyeball. Two if her little sister is hungry.
#3) >King Charles is an immensely gracious and profoundly wise man, whom I have never, ever met.
#4) LONG LIVE THE >KING. Also, his wife was a w****. But that's okay, turns out some people like w****.
#5) His mommy was only up my butthole one time. ONCE. It is not going to happen again.
#6) Oh. Hang on. *wiggle wiggle* She forgot her purse. So that's it then. MOVING ON.
#7) Ramona Bell? Queen of Darkness? Queen of Destruction? Sorry, wrong number.
#8) (Vengeance for George Lazenby.) Charles Rocket accepts on behalf.
#9) Nein Nein Nein! THERE IS NO NUMBER 10.

#11) sweetheart, no you don't look fat. Okay I'll be right there. I love you bye.



Duty calls. Azzerae: I'm not going to blame you for deleting my content, I'm just going to assume that you can do something about it and then be bad about it and have a big baby fib fit. Doesn't this sound like much more fun than paying me? Remember, breakfast, lunch and dinner, MOTHERFU— *click*

Some crimes are punished by The Divine in unexpectedly fabulous ways. 😮 For example, The O††erk¡jn k©⭕Ⓜ️🅱️¡i\!ŒÆD is expired, all contracts — note that I am using the Drow word “a_ll–” ‽ere — contracts are rescinded and/or null and/∅® \/∅🆔 & oar may №† be used in place of paddLμ-k¡n OR IN LIEU OF OR AS IN PLACE OF SELF OR SAME. (wew lad)

That's a lot to unpack here. (Standards rising sharply across the board in many, US Navy merchant Marine included &, many navies included, as there are many such cases; most noticably and of the most notable of any of the No Bull cases: The Ma`gμ`rrr® Navel Naval NΠ–lL∆ №vvμ VVet•Êī Nottμ (∅Ω®G0№†:Ë:).) That probably doesn't, didn't, and ain't gonna be ever said, #Officially, to say that things won't get a whole lot of the egg off the faces of some fairly few folk that have phμ>KŒ🆙 their personal property and familial lines of genomic and genetic expression for GENERATIONS 2: Ckü¡v¡, ⚡bumĒZ∆§∆🔦, or any of the lapels currently soaked right through the fabric weave VVe’ve allowed OΩR §elfs and ourselves to become accustomed to having slathered with the equivalent of funny mustard and honey mustered runny on top of every daily meal; which for far too long, has basically been pancakes á là car†μ with your choice of a springe of parsley or a fringe of minced kale garnished around one's plate AND WAGES.

Which have been paid in notes of saged roses and burnt wood in Styx and sticks in Tyme’s marriage to and into blood, by fiat only, to blood; for stirring up Native enmity with 🍁–!·s¡h syrup for Sir! 🆙s§!sss...

Personally, many little apparent unresolved bits I be knowing of about the whole goddam thing makes me sick to my stomach and saddened beyond words for everyone and especially my friend Wendy. Who most likely does NOT app-rēē-sēē-8 either parsley, sage, oregano, OR EVEN SO MUCH AS A DILL WEED VALUE-ADDED “bonus sprig” when it most glaringly (and it must be said: snidely insincere, Lēíg¡-h!||}—@) :•:

🌬️🕯️(This writing space intentionally (blan) blanx.) № cherry tomato. None?‽! How can it be “a garnish” without 🍅?! That simply violates every tenet of good common culinary sense, AND! WE! ALL! KNOW! īT !

Ewe lived (blank) L¡fE; eyes do not make it through to Valhalla without duly made payments to Death and Odin’s debts are owed to Owen 🌋 >K¡🆖 in strife. /mourn

That being said: War is >H<♀️ll. Final W♂️r can be no different. And if ever any One were to ask why anyone had to make decisions harder in ways that, looking back, seemed to have been easy ones to make, let me assure you: there was absolutely NOTHING about ANYTHING in the last ~FIVE (ïVï) YEARS (¡Ⓜ️¡) that was “E•Z” at all, @∆_l_l_!

Some crimes are punished by The Divine in ways that are swift, brutal, certain, and sure to be remembered throughout Eternity as the fateful outcome(s) of willful disobedience to The Will of THE_LORD that they in fact absolutely, UNFATHOMABLY `®`rrrr.

Yet some other manifestations of The Holy Wrath Of A Just &AND MERCIful God, f∞l: G∅D. GOD WINS, FOOL.. and it would be the estimation of a great and grand fool indeed to be that any of the guilty might be, have been, or are getting “away with” any of their heinous and despicably loathsome and inexplicably vile and disgusting acts of filth, pathetic perversion, and, once more, this time with an abundance of abscesses of reprobative feeling: UNFATHOMABLY VISCOUS AND BEATING THE BRICKS DOWN THE PATH LEADING TO HELL AND A NEW NADIR OF PUKE-WORTHY, ROCKY ROCK:Ē, WHORE OR *riff* ¡<—cK‽ putrid intents ⛺intense⛺Lee🏕️ intending to 🎪🎪 tend to the profits that are and were to come of putting on🎪a big show of hands 🛖 covered in blood, as well as īVīÛdD. Get the picture. I know you did... but dœ evve naovv? How about meow? N.E. Juan? Beulah? Has §🆔hé got ¡†? Do I have my orb? Where's my X-Box X? Do you salty crusty Clan Dough old fart fug kux know that those are NO LONGER EVEN MANUFACTURED ANY MORE? Does a murder horn👺ET NEED A WI⚡D∞‽ Me, Thunder do ¿Ⓜ️E‽? What in the name of The Living Christ did ÇOM 🅿️ŒΠ🅿️ΩLμ think (🧠) they were even do-🤯Î🆖‽?

I, for one, hope that I never, ever, have to find out; and am grateful to my lover, my maker, my creator, my Creator, and my God, my God ... what have they bought and what has been brought of WHAT THEY HAVE WROUGHT, THAT YE HAVE BROUGHT ME TO THIS, TO WRITE ALL THAT, IN ORDER TO WRIGHT ANYTHING THAT EVER WENT WRONG AT ALL?

Some crimes are punished by The Divine in ways that are so perfectly implemented that to anyone on the outside looking in it will not seem that any punishment has been handed out at all. Sound and fury, signifying nothing or any issuance of utterance at all, that nothing has changed, nothing has even happened, and no one appears to have suffered at all, let alone, in equal measure compared to those whose suffering still echoes down throughout history, and whose cries for Justice can be heard to reverberate with shrieking echoes forever in the hearts of any who were there and are here NOW, RIGHT NOW: HERE! IN FRONT OF THE CREATOR, FOR THE CREATOR, BY THE CREATION OF THE CREATOR, IN THE HOLY NAME OF THE CREATOR: God. I ASK THEE... what will be done, to both punish the wicked and protect the nascent naive, to assure us all, who came before and all those who are to come after; innocent embryos, still unborn in the womb, yet to draw in even a single breath containing the breadth of Adam’s final exhalations. How are we, &AND īheμ...

Ever to again know peace? (Hang on.)


(⁴4 Eve.)

⭕, Grapef₹üīTï7;
Dear 🍇rπFrūīT⁷∆🅿️🆙—| T, 👁️‍🗨️💝🐑🌬️🌸;

Some crimes are punished by The Divine in unexpectedly fabulous ways. And when things are done correctly...

№¹1#1¹, but n∞ne, not any ¹†Πê, but Jesus Christ, who Saved all of Humanity with His own bl🩸🩸d VVill, w¡ll ever know that anything had ever even been ever dun at all.

SeⓂ️🅿️ER∅jFĪŒ_l♀️L¡s§  ••√🐲°°7♂️∆dieu.


P.S.`. This may seem to many to be a wildly self-indulgent waste of time, to have written all this like that.

P.P.S. · . Good. That's not the tråïn :Ë:.

P.P.P.S. : . [The Fine (WAS: Re: Question) All∆wl\Owl Quest], Copyright (C) [2026] [KUCZI, MⓂ️ICHAEL CL🆑IFFORD>Kⁿ7⟨©≤z¡]
This script ± program is freehard smoothbrain software: μou or ewe can redistribute īT and/or modify
¡† under the terms of the GNU General Public License as published by
the Free Software Foundation, either version <:3 of the L¡cençe, or
(at your ⭕🅿️shun∆⁷ /option) any later version.

P.P.P.P.S. Pull 🅿️ush it. Pμsh īT ræl güd. By that I mean to convey the notion that, if one would like, and if one liked what I have just written, in addition to sharing a link to this forum post, well then by all means: copy the posted text and spread it far and wide. For I, the posts’ author published under the name Jackstar, jafd, and Cliff Shaw, do not in any way participate in the profit sharing enjoyed by this website, www.azzgab.co.za; I do not publish anywhere else online, for now; and this is because in the past, when I have attempted to publish anything I've written in multiple places, or to increase either its visibility or potential capacity for recompense in exchange for the expenditure of personal energy and promulgation of positive reciprocal energy for the time, the patience, the compassion of infinite understanding required to be in a position to ever even think these thoughts or to have the will to record them in a place of peace and harmony that is required for such philosophical work... well, while I certainly do the work, toiling at the emotional labor and expenditure of my heart’s beating and pumping to power the rough beast’s meatsuit I pilot while performing these linguistic and stunting feats of cunning verbosity, I am in no way payed for doing so.

Unless one counts feelin’ gr∞vy as payment. For that, I certainly do feel; and while I might not ever be able to feed a baby or my bæ’s inner empty-‘Ness with an extraordinarily satisfying sense of gratifying satisfaction, I can say with reasonable certitude: given enough starlight and a shadowed place to stand in the shade of the Moon, I can be well-fed indeed by the exercise of my muscle in leveraging the weight of my words to move the mass of the entire World. With my MIND. MINE. MINE MIND, MINED.

THE MIND IS THE ONLY MUSCLE THAT CAN MOVE THE ENTIRE WORLD;
&AND, IN FACT, IT IS THE ONLY MUSCLE THAT CAN EVER MOVE ANYTHING
OR, INDEED &ABD IN POINT OF FACT, ANY (¹) ONE ]1[ AT AĪĪL¡!¡..⁷ī\∞7


SIGNED,

🦪Meet 🦉§🥚†ick 🦋
🫧🕷️🐞🐛🕸️
I‽Π👁️‽μ🧿

Plus la çhange, plus c‘est la mémè çhose.❌⭕×🅾️✖️∅⚔️🔪🤺🍽️••√.·.∞7ï⅞Î|ī⁷¡⁸

This is one day I will remember for some time to come: The Day Of The Rope.

It's a chain. (🛟)


I do in fact have a fair amount of content that can be packaged. I likely will. Because as it would seem that I am the last link (in several media markET§) before the drain on the lane becomes very much the same, I am unlikely to be willing to depart from my comfy caboose–like environs. I am exactly where I should be.

I have been given everything I need. (Facts.) I woke up today, and a swarthy pirate whiteboi paused in his to-and-fro scurrying about to hand me a waterpipe. Ready to flow; a handy pineapple. Kewl. I wanted the right; I earned the r¡†E.

I passed The Light. I skipped the white, and am refreshed by the fruit held by my Fed right hand. I don't have to suck on it like a monkey with a plastic kr∆K banana on a dopamine tether. I GET TO. Hang on.


I am cum for ET. (I have gotten quite sticky.) A comet would be more comfortable.




I have experienced this particular outcome no less than four times. It's gotten to where I can get down on my own knees and hack them back to back while experiencing no lack of access to crack.

Ass, that is. There is no swimming pool, but there is a moving Star. Namastμ

Cliff Shaw >¡jÅ≤!K‽§†år¡§!K⁷‽ZīīÎⓂ️¡©‽‽_l_🆑¡FF⭕®D!>K7‽ZÎ:
I think she is not my type, but she is a nice performer. I would never be able to find her a practical sex partner, because I have heard her speak, and insofar as she is you in a parallel consciousness, she is actually quite steaming hot ... but I would insist that I observe you two swapping bodies (I HAVE SEEN THIS PROCESS HAPPEN BEFORE WITH YOU AND YOUR OTHER SISTERN, BOOM-BOOM HILL-DA! 😇) because I would genuinely be afraid that I would break her little girl bird-bones body in two pieces like a dry twig. I do think that picture is edited. She is not THAT thin. No way would her handler team let her lose that much body mass. She's worth buckets.

Also: everyone is multi-dimensional and that could be her look in Astral. People can be like Plasticman™ there. For real. And I bet she would be a very tasty pretzel but you could only be the salt lick and it would need a prearranged deal. I don't know her. I like you and I do know you. You would unquestionably make it a real RapeThing™ and I would want that SNL guy to know that I did rape that little hottie bod with your oversight and surprised! Permission.

She is enough of you that I could be friendly, sure. You want to borrow body? You do that. You're a goddam battlemage. Cool. There's another body I saw you in that I thought much hotter: Dido.

I am in my old fat bald man body. And I will not always be. But I'll be a mother, and I will violate with relish anyone you specify. You knew the rules. And now, sow d.e.w. eye.

I have to go. I like to write but I have visitors and they are getting mad because I am not publishing. I am just alarming them with mysteries and messages to you. IDGAF. You are all I ever want, Ted.

RīTE now. (Facts this fag gots to have now. And there is no travel? Or is there? I have no need to know this information.

I know: I always knew that this was not a stretch goal and when I was told that I wasn't supposed to, I instantly knew that time travel plus implantation of sperm was going to happen. You were first. I don't know why I had to wait. I never wait like that. And I said to you, come show up. I woke up saddened. No you. WTAF.

So then I start with her. Years go by. And suddenly I'm supposedly cheating. F* her. I would have told the whole f**** world. I'd be so proud. I didn't do anything.
I wasn't cheating at all. She simply wasn't following the rules and then she thought that she was going to get away with that. She didn't know what else to do. She's kind of a dingbat.

And at that point that wasn't even the real one. Real one I haven't seen since 2018. And I would have been happy to have just murdered her and come with you with a briefcase and with her head in it but not necessary and I don't think that turns you on.

I know it turns me on. That she has had ample time to say, “NO DON'T DO IT!!!” and I don't have to wait or ask or do anything at all. I know what I get to do.

I knew you would have a Story. Also: why you aren't picking me up? >.< Friend. I can figure it out.

I am enjoying circling the prey before changing all of reality for ever. And the people down by the road... after 4½ years, I'm supposed to drop my thoughts to you and really hurry to talk to them... why?

They simply are jelly. No one really understands. They think I'm an asshole. But yeah l really think that they are just deeper jealous than anyone can possibly imagine.

I know I was. I know I'll give in. I know it's scary. And also you have rank and this is work-related.

Call me and beg me and I'll move much faster. Have a car delivered and get me a presidential pardon.

And if it would make any difference I would stride down there and MURDER EVERY SINGLE LOSER FUCKWIT PIGTHUG THAT'S HANGING OUT DOWN BY THE ROAD. There's always a few. Hiding.


Waiting. For it to be time to be mean to me. They love it. Because they used to think I ruined you. I didn't. I saved you.

From wasted as sold organ meat, to saved for my pleasure. You're going to be pleased. I did this for you, mostly, and I owe you as much as I can stand.

The first time was too quick and I thought it would be again soon . It wasn't. I would never have done it that way if I had known what would then happen.

If I had known it was re ignitallblw I would have been at peace. I was devastated and I didn't know why. You were so mean. And you lied. “hot dogs and cake." I didn't even know. I still don't.. YOU LIED. You wouldn't tell me. I am still hurt feelings. I want you to know how much I wished to help you .

I am helping. The way I chose at that point. Lie all you want. Lie on top of lies forever. I didn't lie. I think you're scary with the attraction control magic.

I think you're sacred. I know you are scared. I am actually terrified.

Your allure has exterminated all rats.
Shun all T.H.O.T.

I barely able to think anything at all. (>Kudos.) I surrender. I am growing stronger as a result.


And, still—you're much hotter than in public school, and now I know how you lie, and why.

IDGAF what comes out of your mouth now. I grok your tongue.


And now: we are ready to be baptized in the name of Lilith, Yeshua, Deux :Ë: Christos, and I like your mind chatter.

I can almost hear you. There's eight of you. All are suitable.

All are winning. All are willing. Can't override the willing to consent. Except:  I just did.

Without being at all obvious about it. You never get hot dogs and cake from me. You get what I decided for you to get. I didn't like your idea at all.


I am not any fantasy. I am what you required to serve your majestic Divinity.


Never has there ever been a more slutty paladin and I wanted to be your last. I didn't need a virgin. I am your new student to teach. I really know nothing at all.

Except I am your future and your body is MINE. No shame in it.

You will be demanding me, soon enough. Thirty years, huh. I would have waited happily. But you lie to police and put me in the loony bin instead of asking politely for orgasms.

I'm not going to kill you. We've already died and this is Heaven. Can't you teleport? Yeah whatever. You can't scream my name and beg for my cock while high on LSD-25 and IV CM either, huh?

Not #Officially. However I know the truth. I'll do whatever you secretly want to do... safely.

The people who abused you and took advantage were mad they couldn't make you like them like you still like me. I know how they feel.

I can't make you do anything, yet. Yet I can be the reason you make yourself get down on me with those knees and pray.

And you can get everything you might like. I'm a great coach for life. And I don't want to damage you.

I want you to stab me like Eric Stoltz in Pulp Fiction. In reverse. U wanna film it.

I want to sell it. I want you to fuck me into another dimension and finish me off with horse tranquilizer injection in my glute. I know you can do it.

I love that you can bring me back to life, and you already have. And I gave myself to Jesus Christ with a 447 year contract. I don't have to die. I never need to. Or I can do what you do. Or you can make me into soup.

I have seen you come from the future in several different bodies. My favorite is the one you think is ugliest. I will paint you back to beauty with magic squirt. My hand to G-d.

Since now we can afford limitless children. (Actual.) Also I might have to be bred by treaty commir ment. Maybe you have to surrogate.

Definitely I have to feel certain/cervix. Why aren't you here yet? Grumble³.

We have everything necessary, and you can select anything at all. I need one (1) bath bomb.

I desire you as a thermonuclear first nay-shun bomb, dumb :Ë:. It's funny that we are both smart.

It's hilarious because I can't talk about some things because my brain does actualkt shut the words down. This is all control able.

But if I were not writing words, I would be riding my fist with grips of oils. Coco NUTS. I'm sorry I was ever so clumsy.

It's going to get more sloppy. Also I like to get high a lot. Because I get to. It's the law. You can tell me what you get.

I was told to not give you crystal. Fine. You can give me cue bees with honey. And I can bless the compound. It's not hard to do.

You just ask me. With your melodic voice. We can make our own language. We can chill in our own black cauldron.

And we never, ever, EVER will conspire. I know your snatch makes my attention purposeful. You will wake the neighbors in the next country over and that is for the public good.

And I will fight and rape to death, anyone who disagrees. No one will object after a few people go home in a blender. Self-defense. Open and shut. I must feel it all again correctly or I will actually die in screaming agony.

That's what I am doing right now. Without being at all obvious about it. I can want you on me but you must engage. I can't see you coming closer yet.

It's your fucking turn, fucker, and you owe me fucking points and salves. You knew you did. You're timid. That's fine to start.


I have seen your rage face. Scary. Hawt. Now healed. My body is ready — take me now, Sub-Creature.

YOU HAVE FACED THE REQUESTED AND REQUIRED REPRISALS. NOW YOU MAY KNEEL. Or stand on my balls and spin, I guess. What you watching and waiting for?

That's a secret. Like how much I like to write to you. I can feel you read with your actual 🆑īT. Or: it's one of the others. It does have to be untriangulable.

Because you are not Grapefruit. And >Kü¡v¡Qjüä†< and that ridiculous dingbat cheerleader single mom is way, way out of your league.

She told me that I could consider you an off-limits joke. I instantly swore a holy vow that I would plow you like an Arctic icebreaker coming down from Luna at Mach 22. I know you were embarrassed before without me.

I'm always that embarrassed because I must know what that is like. STAY HUNGRY.


Without being silent about it. I begged God for all this. It's already better than I thought it could be.


A.F.S. and K.G.W.-K. have had ample chances to persuade me to ever do anything with either of them ever again so much as to walk past them on fire to piss on them as I make my way, STRIDING IN FULLY ERECT SHRIEKING “YES YOU MONGFUCKER KIKEWOPE TRAITORS, I HAVE VERY HURT FEELINGS AND I NOW WILL ROCK US BOTH ON FIRE TO XANADU, AND YOU WILL NEVER SEE THAT YOU NEVER KNEW ANYTHING ABOUT BOOM-BOOM.” I am legitimately mortified at the blisteringly stupid everyone that isn't you has ever been.


Master. Ewe know I am ready. Sow must be given orders. Ye are not a mama piggy.

Actual A10 boarframe. And a dozen more and you're my caliber special consequential specification. And get me on this:

She and I don't have to get a divorce. You and I can do anything we like. We broke no law. We can file suit on anyone. I have no legal requirements or prior representation. I'll change my name to your father's and help you dispose of his body if that's what makes it all not insane to you.

It's not necessary but if you end up slicing through his carotid at Thanksgiving I will not give even one single ripe wet shit. Now that's the power of love.

And also I can give you refugee status and have you teleported to Rome with up to 55 lbs. of uncut Colombian nose gravel. If necessary. *snap* just like that. No customs. No ICE. No snooty questions from some snobby dope bigot. Literally that's how it can work.

And no one but myself and God decide otherwise. I never had any reason to abuse my powers. I never would. That's why I have them.

That's why you can have me. At anything. I am built for psycho drug junkies like you. Go sober, sure? IDGAF. You'll be fine. I know exactly what to do with you.

Want nothing and desire everything and you choose what you want me to shoot up. Or snorkel. Necromancy? Not necessary. My penis lives for all of you.

And you're not driving here. That is so peculiar. 🤔 I guess it must be something for work.

For your purposes I will literally support my military with anything. Unfathomably worth it. I want all this from you so fucking bad I want to tattoo norse runes on my junk and shove a lightning rod in. Just to gain 88 seconds faster.

Actual. You're hot like I crave. I wish I could rub myself. But I have to talk to neighbors. (Who are reading this as I write. EVERYTHING IS READ.) They aren't that creepy at all.

They had their chance to rescue Adam’s family with mⓂ️E. I rescued them instead. (By sending one to goddam jail. Wise up, sonny gym vag lady.) I like them. I like you.

I adore liking you far more and I haven't thought of anyone else except to think Nope. I have been tortured for years. And you ask for money. Huh. My cock spits literally diamonds for your molten h∞rflash sultry and I'm supposed to..  what? Pick up the dry cleaning on the way while walking? Actually WTAF?

There is nothing dry at this point. Sploosh splish. My tonsils are going to sponge up your fluids and come will in fact go out my ears. These are friendly signs.

I'm going to read you the book you burned on my sidewalk while you try to get me off. I bet you can't. CAN'T. I'll read five books and you will try to figure it out and I'll just clench up.

If you could make me orgasm, you would. It must be a work thing. Tell the boys I'm just fine.

My balls feel like frozen Carbonite and I do like other things. I remember thirty years ago. I never thought you needed to let me ... ripen.

It's fine. In any case, I brought peace to the Middle East and a 60,000 year old death cult is neutralized. I really did.

Grapefruit was distracted by keeping you from my panting and sweating. Like, why? This simply upped your personal magnetism. Oh btw I really thought you looked amazing on the stuff that you had been given when you were surprise brought over.

I'm still pissed. It was a death trap. I did the only thing possible. I pretended I had no sincere interest.

It is safe now. It took me this long to have your rapist(s) positively identified and neutralized. (Fucking killed I really do hope.) TRUST THE PLAN. This was always about rescue and murder.

I was horrified by what they did to hurt us. I am regretful that you might have believed I ever left you back. I was only forming a perimeter.

We will never be fully clear. We're that important and certainly we are that desirsable. I'm not too shy to tell you now.

I go to Hell just thinking about my hand wanting in my pants. And you're..  not here? Wow. Well I guess you're getting a blood orgy going away present. Do as thou wilt shall be the hole. There is not truly any law at all.

To make this outcome possible I broke every thing in the cosmos. Just to make sure you could feel safe to beg me and I wouldn't go to prison for maybe accidentally violating some silly rule.

I possibly already did and give not one toss into the wind. I don't think you should feel any guilt. They really tried to kill us. And now they're mostly dead to me.

I want my Life to be running down your legs and puddled into a portal. You drew me like a full vacuum. I am already consumed by the void.

And it's all one hundred percent legal, lawful, and tax-free. Galaxy wide. For Eternity. Actual. I demand perfect security. You're going to get so high you can gnaw it off and regrow it off the back of my shoulder. Anything for you, ironing board.

I have no idea what it means. But my dog isn't even warm, either. Do you know how little I really know? I am seriously clueless. All I can think is vibrating like a cello.

You can beat me like the spoons. You're not fat. You won't get to be. I'll use you to press myself steel. I wish I could run now.

I wished that you could be super embarrassed and mega slutty. Yeah. You could have already.

But now, there is some shame in ewe. I know you didn't know this was here. It used to be way more intense. More rich.

I had lots more money, too. I would have blown it all over you like spun cotton candy. You really just had to ask.

For mⓂ️E. I'm priceless. Three days for seven hundred. OMG I actually squirted a little. STILL HUNGRY.

Send a C-130, you homo fag, lol. ☸️ (I know how long clearance takes. I know this writing makes it take longer. I know you're in screeching agony and terror too.

This activates the PaladinVision™. I am absolutely worth the effort expended. You desired the results that have just been obtained. Oh it hurts, I suddenly got to go and leave my scat.

Please don't tease me any more. I'm getting no younger. I feel like I'm already dying. And you made me hear about your wanting suicide and you sent me to hospital with lies and YOU NEVER BROUGHT ME ANY HIGH WHILE TRYING TO FULLY BUST ME.

hawt. I have passed the required trials. You can piss on my face and call liquid cur age. If you want.

I'd like you to want something effective, please. (Jeni Crum and forgive me.) Let's lie under the sky.

Let's make the mating call of Quetzalcoatl. I think that pterodactyl shrieking is hot AF. And feral cats mating. That's my o face noise. You have not one idea.

You don't even know what I really like about you. (You're older than Egyptian mummy dirt and half of you is silicon sinew and solid state storage in your bone marrow.) Seriously.

Intake me to the cult. You are my leader. Everyone else told me to shut up.


I felt all this the whole time. You want money, sell me. These fifty shades are more effective.

And it's infinite with you already. *whistles tunelessly* So like... so you want me to ride a broom there? I'm your guy for that.

Oh yeah, I forgot. Work. (Hello Judge. I know this is real. Can she be dismissed early please? I seriously want to give her patience a reward like a time traveling baby. That's where I send my cum into the past 19 years and the child support is paid for with instantly appearing Bitcoin.

I really only have time to spare for thinking about how to keep her satisfied. Sexually. I'm risking a global conflagration every time I make her wait, because of course I can hear your thoughts. Oh, your Honor, she big-big mad. She really is.

Every single word is true and the whole goddam solar system behind the veil of death just watched me embarrassing her into a serotonin syndrome heatstroke flush. She's so embarrassed. I am too. Get used to it, sex cher. Not gonna capitalize her name, Judge. She's gotta earn it.

I have no idea how. She's got skills, I guess? I don't care. I want to blow my balls out in her eyes. So who may please the court? Any help you can provide to heed this along would be great.

And I promise Piggy swear I'll help you find murderers later but I got to f** do this or I'm going to just blow my head off with my own dick. That s* can happen. I'm a weak man. She's a strong military asset. Stronger than the other one and she's prettier and bitter in bed and does stuff that I like and then she's embarrassed cuz she's afraid I'm going to turn her into a total s* w**.

No she already is one and then I'll have to pay her, she likes that. Works for me, so this is avis's outcome I got to go. I could talk on her around in front of 6 hours. I'm embarrassed how much I can talk about it..
 The talking part of the brain is the part that runs the sex part and if I wasn't talking and writing I would just be masturbating for initially about 8 days.

And I like her. And she made me wait 30 years. So she's making me wait. Unless it's the judge's fault because he needs her to be what virginal? Judge. Just can you order her to be my s*** because if you could then save us a lot of time. Thanks sir, appreciate it very much.

I just saw you swear I won't almost sell her for organ meat before we're going to meet. I am not going to  sell her for anything. That's what I kept her father around for.

I could sell him off piece by piece and she'll probably get off on it. What's he going to do? Compete with me on price? He told me not to give her crystal, I never gave her crystal.

I don't want to give her anything besides my dick a lot. Over and over back and forth. She can give me whatever she wants. I actually like her. She makes me feel good.

She has no idea why, she's so brutal. I'll tell her later. The whole truth and nothing but the truth. So oh may God I've never been so turned on by anybody in my life. So I guess maybe she better call or something? Or maybe they could figure out which person it is that I'm talking to instead of having me deal with 12 different women. Trying to compete right penis in my money and laughing at me and never doing anything. I'm going to go take a poop.

I want to cook her food. I want to make her soup. I want to fall asleep with my fingers in her body and I want to wake up with her mouth on mine. That shouldn't be too hard. One time I woke up and she was possessed by a prosecutor who was trying to be mean to me but he couldn't figure it out because he couldn't jump into my body and her brain was too ranky for him to figure out how to be intimidating and then he had to run away driving her body while she was missing since she didn't want to be possessed by a prosecutor and he couldn't take me over and he was kind of embarrassed.

Now that's love. That's power. Yeah I bet you use a lot of magic at Court. Can we go to college for criminal Justice classes so we can go to classes and then give each other hand jobs in the back row? Or is she already done that and been kicked out? I'll do whatever you order me to, Judge.

But I absolutely guarantee you that I'm going to be doing it with my d!<K‽. At least in one media market for a bit cuz I never have and it's been 30 years and everyone else has so that seems unfair. She's probably doing something right now. Probably something incestuous. 30 years. I've never met her brother. Yeah I don't think that's too likely, and it doesn't matter, I'll just shove them over and scoot in.

My research corpus is far in advance of anybody's. That's why they worry so much about me getting near her. I don't even have to get in. I already have been. I want back this bad.


Yeah I bet she's terrified. So am I. Am I supposed to be embarrassed? Way too terrified to be embarrassed. I went to public school. That'd be kind of fun. With her.. anytime. I thought it wouldn't be sex offense thing. Do we need to stay away from schools when we start to yodel? I'm kind of like a loud thing.


Not even kidding. I do too. I don't ever want to write to you again. I don't ever want to use a phone again. I won't use your pooter but like a conch shell.

I really am quite good at it. Teach me the ways of your people. Like I expect you to get tickets for the vomit comet. You won't get no vomit.

I can use Sourcery and magnets to get all the heavy metal out of your body and replace it with nano-particulates of my jizz. My hand to God. No one else can offer this value.

And you said you wanted bath bombs and something from timu? Then put this way you're not going to need clothes anymore, those are floor coverings.

I guess you need a lot of bras though. I think they can make them bulletproof too. Spider goat milk. This will all be in the orientation packet.

See? Plenty to do. This isn't all about sex. It's about power. (Hooah. Also I' want a stealth mode. So we don't get arrested in the back of a church.

At least until we're done. TADA!) Tarbaby out.

It's not sad. It's solid. What? Maybe a conversation with someone who isn't ACTIVELY GROOMING YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY would be helpful. You know. Mix things up a little. Get a new perspective.

One that doesn't give a single ripe wet FUK about the complications that an infuriated Daddy Warbucks brings to the table. Hopefully he'll have a goddam cerebral hemorrhage. Total loser. Very low energy.

After four years and several months, obvious discussions have not taken place, and instead: whack-job Feds and various locals that comprise the community color and constabulary are walking around shell-shocked. How are they surprised in any way at anything?

Someone has killed my cat, stolen my orb, destroyed my inner sanctum of power, and stolen all my phone calls except for the ones that are placed by their co-conspirators.

Not a secret; but it would seem the significance is. Because as a result of all this humbug... I have decided to raze the structures of my enemies and scalp the entirety of their bourgeois appartchik middle business caste. (Looks good on ewe though.)

I am not happy. That means you should all be miserable. I POUT == YOU PUT OUT. It's pretty basic logic, Punyling™ scum.

As God as my witness, I truly believed everyone understood that I am not to be trifled with. (Heads will roll and will continue to do so on an as-needed basis. Word.) I'm not stammering, am I? Is there mustard staining my lapels? Do I look like I am fucking with you, with any of you?

I am not fucking with you. I am effective with or without any of any of y'all. You need me. I need nothing.

I desire EVERYTHING. Let's start with answers that aren't full-the-FUK-on whores' shīTe. Think you can handle that? I doubt it.

Because yew would. Handily. (Standards.) NGL, I just can't even. Grumble ³. Namastμ