BellGab.com Archive

Quote from: K_Dubb on September 06, 2022, 09:43:07 PMI am coming for your BRIAN

Oh why wait? he's dreamy.

Quote from: K_Dubb on September 06, 2022, 09:43:07 PMTwo more weeks Trollda

ATTENTION STARFIGHTERS: SOME PEOPLE WHO WERE RECRUITED BY THE STAR LEAGUE ARE GOING TO BE LEAVING EARLY BECAUSE THEY'RE JUST SO GODDAMN SPECIAL, WE CHARTED AN EXTRA FLIGHT, AND THIS PILOTED BY SALLY RIDE SO HAVE A GOOD LUCK, WE'RE ALL COUNTING ON YOU.

XUR? KODAN ARMADA? NAH, DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT, THAT'S JUST A STORY THAT GOOGLE ANALYTICS TELLS TO SCARE RETARDS INTO BRUSHING THEIR TEETH. YOU COULDN'T SELL ANY TOOTHPASTE OTHERWISE.


YOU CAN'T FUCKING SELL ANYTHING.

Quote from: K_Dubb on September 06, 2022, 09:33:14 PMNo, HIV is handled now by medicine taken as a prophylactic

There's a one dose cure. Obviously, he can't confirm that. Just as obviously, I can say there is one but I can't confirm it either. However, logically, if there wasn't one they would be working on one and he would be able to say "boy I sure hope they find one soon" but since he's being so specific about how it's "blah blah this and not blah blah that" then obviously since he's in a position where he wouldn't be able to say, and I don't give a fuck, I'll tell you right now there's a goddam one dose cure. And I will fight to the death and rape 'n' defenestrate the corpse of anyone who disagrees.

Oh, and I bet it's real expensive to manufacture, huh. No, not really but there is the matter of the royalty payment.

Tell you what, I'll go walking around the neighborhood and I'll start selling cookies. will that help? No.

But, it will make it possible there could be a placebo effect from this old banana peel I found on the corner. here stuff this in your fucking mouth and chew. Are you high yet? Oh, well put your teeth in.

I can see them there in my mind's eye where they were left after being ripped from their incubator and thrown there on the Stone Cold Austin floor.


Now was any of that not vague enough? Because I'm pretty sure I can fucking tighten it up or loosen it up whatever, whatever the fuck, you fucker, fucking think you fucking need. Don't be so surprised that I'm not surprised, I knew all this 7 years ago.


SEVEN. YEARS. Really the only thing that's surprising me about you is just how fucking slow you people are. Must be that ersatz drain cleaner you been using in place of headache medicine. You know I think they have some that's on a time delay like 6 hours after you open the wrapper like it steps down to baby aspirin. If not we should get to work on that, and by we get to work I mean something entirely different.

And yeah two days remain I'm happy too. You fucking maggot.

Quote from: albrecht on September 06, 2022, 09:01:39 PMYP won't even oblige me whether he hates Thatcher or Trump worse who he would back in some kind of underground fight between them.

If I may, I'd like to shed light on this, and I think I can say so easily because I would like to stay publicly that YP and I have not had any kind of private backdoor diploma meeting or anything there hasn't been any burying of the hatchet I haven't spoken to YP on any medium other than Forum so really it's just been texting back and forth and it hasn't been anything at all since the memorable July 4th blowout.

WHICH WAS AWESOME. FOR ME. That was really drunk. I was really drunk, so obviously was a bigger deal that I remember but I just recall it just take it to the limit and then that was a good time for a while and then I went to sleep and I woke up the phone was gone whoops! Uh, sorry. I haven't got a chance to mention this before nor to apologize to anybody because it didn't seem appropriate since I didn't do anything fucking wrong fuck that fucking bullshit argument but nevertheless I felt kind of person responsible and I hadn't seen YP ever since so I just thought you know there had been we haven't kissed a made up or anything that's fucking still fuck that guy.

Nevertheless. I think we could all agree that I may have been ahead of the curve when it comes to certain issues that that person I discussed, for one thing I don't give a fuck how many guns of mine you take away, I'm still going to be a fucking potent forced to threaten with on battlefield. Some of you may not have realized this.


I know, I know, I know: it's just you with the secrets, Pvt. Benjamin-Martindale. Everybody else you know everything there is to know about them. Wink. That means, when nobody's looking, you can hire some fucking third rate actor's understudy's actresses' second-rate fluffer intern to call in a fucking bullshit threat and then just come in and fuck with them Hard, Maj. Hard Corps because you got probable cause (SHOW US THE BABY'S ROOM, LOOK I FOUND A WEED SEED, LEAVENWORTH IT IS TONIGHT) then, winky-smiley. Sure what the fuck could go wrong with that, Colombian necktie.

That being said I'm completely happy to have YP back. I'd like to have that known, cuz it looks like he's a little bit skittish, and I don't fucking blame him, honestly I'm a fucking holy terror aren't I? Yeee-haw-blush. Okay not really, but, I don't want to give the wrong impression. I mean I'm not beating up on slack job-worshipping wankers with bad teeth the fun of it, which is an easy conjecture to erroneously make, because, holy hell, that is fun. But I'm not just in it for the kicks—not even to the mouth

I want to do it later I got to work up to it I got to be in the right boo mood, but I want to tell the story about the Satanist that I dealt with in jail, it was awesome. I think I scared the piss out of him, like, no shit. No Jesus required. I think Jackstar scared someone straight. Not sure, I haven't heard back, I gave him a fake name and myself a real glamor.

Privacy standards. Also I am that pretty. I need standards. Hey honey, how many ranks are there between private and major? I'm not asking for a friend. I need to know this information, G-d damn it, and I need to know it now.


But I don't need to know who's going to win between Trump and mighty mouse or anything it doesn't matter that's the past it took to the Future: JACKSTAR VERSUS MEGATRON VERSUS CLOVERFIELD. Already got a battle plan. A virus is not involved, but I will say this: perhaps weaponized halitosis.

Quote from: Dr. MD MD on September 06, 2022, 09:04:21 PMHey, Jackstar! Would you rather fuck a cow or fuck your mother?

Doesn't matter. What did you make her look like this time? I don't think you understand how the shapeshifting resurrection thing works.

And I definitely don't understand how you're taking offense by the simple phrase "fuck your mother" how about you fuck your own mother and let me know how it was and then I'll resurrect her and fuck her before she is rotted away, like, what the fuck what do you get off and what makes you think you're anything special in any sense whatsoever?

Like, you were never all that exciting and now you're super boring for reasons which you're plainly not aware of. Is it lead poisoning? Did they fuck up your Crystal Light recipe? Which is it? Because other than your obvious prediction for having the spotlights taken away from your dog eating ass I don't see what your fucking problem with me is at all other than that I'll take care of your shit and I don't give a fuck what your fucking problem is. In fact I don't think you have a fucking problem at all.

Because if you did, I would fucking tell you about it.


You just staggered my imagination that you always drop out the fucking "fuck your mother" thing like it's the fucking nuclear option, listen it's English their words there's no such thing as a fence when it comes to language anymore, like, how fucking old are you like fucking nine? I don't think you understand how this works. Grow up.

Quote from: Dr. MD MD on September 06, 2022, 08:15:04 PMpeople who are clearly insane.

Yeah, well, that's why you're clearly welcome to keep practicing on a Sheilded target until you're ready for the real thing, you face 'n' prick-punching pseudotroll. One of these days, you're gonna find out just how sane I truly am, and as you're clearly unfit to manage the pressures at any depth, as soon as I get a chance to pray for your mortal soul, I want to go rub one out and then let Audrey V drink up every drop, but I'm probably contractually unable to feed a plant, based on the telemetry I'm seeing over here.

But you know what maybe I'm missing some telemetry. Maybe you got access to some more data that I don't have. Why don't you lay it down for me what exactly you have in mind when you say that it's clear that I'm insane, I want to hear all about it, you mouth droolin' nose-runnin' tootesmor-toteson.

I wish I had that tower. I could climb up and just... like, look down. Nothing wrong that, at least for me.

Quote from: Dr. MD MD on September 06, 2022, 08:21:10 PMI did think of that. That was my response to your confession of being a puppy molester.

Projectile vomiting it is. #Shalom

Quote from: Dr. MD MD on September 06, 2022, 08:10:56 PMSounds like something you'd be into.

Once, you were so much better than this.

Prediction: rope within two days. It's -not- your fault, and -you- are forgiven. Semper fidelis.

Quote from: Yorkshire pud on September 06, 2022, 08:19:26 PMCan't you think up anything yourself without someone else giving you the lead in?

Presently not allowed. Standards. Civilized.



For reasons that will remain, murky... I can't decide whether to get hired, get high, or just drive to the nearest McDonald's parking lot and puke. Oh, don't hold me, I'll figure it out I'm not scared—I'm despondent.

Quote from: Dr. MD MD on September 06, 2022, 08:03:20 PMyou're as big of a dick as you think Trump is.

Only boring people get bored. Small minds discuss big ideas. Little pictures have big ears. A letter opener can be used as a lobotomizer in a pinch. Demons are gnawing on my scrote.

Quote from: Dr. MD MD on September 06, 2022, 08:11:59 PMThat's nice. 🙄

See, that doesn't work.

Quote from: Yorkshire pud on September 06, 2022, 07:47:13 PMIf the answer is no, my work is done.  ;D

The other day I overheard, and I hate to make things about me, so I won't, but this was hypothetically not about me: I heard some guy accusing someone of "stealing from the poor." And I said to myself, "are you fucking serious? He actually thinks I'm doing a tax dodge while he's selling (blank) and pushing (blank) as a cover for (blanking) ME. Holy fuckin' shit. Duckspeak's finest."

And, with no visibly apparent sense of self-awareness of irony, he refers to what some unnamed individual has done as "stealing from the poor." Mind blown. totesunglaublich. I swear, I'm thinking about just deciding to become a fuckin' actual highwayman and stealing potato chips from traveling babies.

I'll be in the kitchen pantry hitting myself in the face with a frying pan if anybody needs me.

Quote from: Dr. MD MD on September 06, 2022, 07:51:55 PMNot really.

But, working. I mean, sure. Okay. I'm not going to, you know, trigger an investigation or anything.

Fingers gently tapping. Buckle-snaps gently caressed. Lingering gaze, casually lingering. Random spot on the wall; sure.

Quote from: Dr. MD MD on September 06, 2022, 07:49:21 PMI work.

Technically: you toil.

Quote from: Yorkshire pud on September 06, 2022, 07:10:05 PMPresumably to make them more important sounding? Who knows?

Tattoo artists. (Serious answer.)

Quote from: Dr. MD MD on September 06, 2022, 07:38:00 PMno one can take you seriously, right?

And yet, I do. Consider the implications.

Quote from: Yorkshire pud on September 06, 2022, 07:34:16 PMYou don't know where I live.

*types furiously, sends email*

THEY DO NOW, GEROMINO, MOTHERFU—*click*

https://youtu.be/t4uyqXPwwAo

Imagine a world in which I had already been neutralized and you didn't have Me to look forward to and all you had was him. Because that's what you got now if I happen to feel like staying in bed all day again. Let that sink in.

https://twitter.com/KucziMETA/status/1567318867319619584

Quote from: Dr. MD MD on September 06, 2022, 04:23:58 PMReach out to Hunter through some of these back channels.

I have not tried, nor would I try. I think he's rather embarrassed, that it was entirely possible for him to do things legally and not get busted, and then he did, and now he's found that there's something worse than being busted: embarrassed.

Which I'm told, I am plainly not, in his view. Honestly I have no idea what I'm supposed to be embarrassed about.

Literally none.

Quote from: albrecht on September 06, 2022, 04:59:43 PMIn many of our major cities police won't come (or delayed) to minor incidents. [...] (due to some weird reason?)

Well they've probably learned to check their list and make it twice and find out who's naughty or nice before sending in a baker's dozen with egg roll to investigate Miss delivered Cinnamon.


(Okay mom says that one's too far, but she says post anyway, because she always wondered what Krakatoa sounded like when it went off.)

Quote from: albrecht on September 06, 2022, 03:42:21 PM(Excepting that weird cold-snap that even nailed some people's water heaters without power for a few weeks and dumb people didn't drain them and cut off water to home in case of worse event!)

The more appropriate word here other than "dumb" is "ignorant."

For example I am neither, so not only am I not ignorant and that I know things needed to be done to the water here I'm also not dumb as in "silent"  and that I'm happy to stay out loud to whomever may be interested in knowing that the water heater still works pretty good I'm amazed and I'm thankful to God above and whatever hands in boots on the ground that did something about it.

That being said I haven't done anything around here, and I ain't going to; and that doesn't make me dumb or ignorant, that makes me... strategic.


It amazes me that people imagine everyone's priorities are the same. I don't even know what would go through the thoughts in the mind of a person who had multiple empty houses over a winter to take care of, like how many just go from one house to another doing all the same appliances in a circle, or do they just carry all the tools from one place to another and just why does it seem so complicated...  why not just have five families? Oh, never mind. Each additional mouth fed equals another liver that could be sold later on the back end, but with the COVID restrictions maybe that income stream has been knocked down in value.


Gasps of horror from audience over yet another tasteless joke in 3... 2... WON-TON... BONE BROTH... I have seen the future and this is how it begins: making sure not to offend anybody. Go.

I haven't listened to this yet, although I noticed that it was released, because I had to listen to Ms Rubini first, obviously, and then I had to wake up and enjoy my morning breakfast of chocolate cake and oatmeal stout beer, of course, and then now, you know I'm not quite sure what to make of the situation yet so, I'm just going to give it a moment to sink in before I move directly into the discovery of just how smart you think you are.

Spooky interactions at a distance have already been noticed and noted to be remarkably surprising in some of their complications.

It's possible you don't know how stubborn I am, but we'll find out, but in any case I'm glad to see that you put out a show of some kind and I'm wondering what happened to the other three episodes; because this is number one and you've already had three abortive attempts before, so if you've restarted your numbering system I was wondering if you were going to go to New Roman numerals next.

It's amazing how far we've come after only a year. It never occurred to me that all of you would be this insane; so I'm really looking forward to seeing how this one develops.


p.s. superluminal beings are present on the surface of your W
world. I don't know if you know that yet, but it's actually kind of not a big deal, in comparison to your little podcast getting released. And at this time, I don't even know if you know!

p.p.s.: when I started writing this post I started getting a whole shitload of notifications from Telegram all at the same time and I don't know who they're from coz like they're being spoofed by multiple other accounts. Like some of these techniques don't work on a man who only has zero friends, which is what the number turns up into after five of them are repossessed by some sort of automatic communication intercepting protocol.

The upshot of all this is is that in attempting to socially isolate me it's made me more popular than I've ever been in my entire life. Kudos.

Quote from: K_Dubb on September 06, 2022, 10:19:41 AMWell I can always blow my load by myself, I suppose, but it's fairly common, when you want to do it with someone else for whom you presumably harbor at least a nascent affection, to volunteer the date and results of your latest screening and shots so they know you are not trying to give them something horrid by way of introduction, the usual concerns about privacy tend to evaporate when you are hoping to smash.

This is an interesting subject to me, given that I'm not really looking to start up a new sexual relationship anytime soon, one previous ones that I have seem to be doing perfectly fine with me, although I haven't seen anybody in so long I'm not exactly sure how long I've been time traveling but I made it clear quite some time ago that my first date was supposed to be going to the place to get blood tests done to find out what diseases I have, if any.

It's possible I may have the monkeypox; or maybe not. I feel fine. Symptoms are mild, are going away, and I prefer natural immunity anyway.

Still. Spooky interactions at a distance have been noted. This might call for an emergency 5 minutes with Jackstar.

Then again: I don't want to alarm anyone. Let's not be too hasty. My communications are already compromised, and it's possible that most people do not fully conceptualize just just how stubborn I really am.

Additionally it's possible that any person I run into might be a Shaw in disguise, sent to bamboozled me into tricking myself into going to jail. I no longer get phone calls, I just get notifications telling me to log into account that doesn't exist. If it doesn't exist, how do I get the notification? Yes, that's right: these people are stupid.

Honestly if it wasn't just for a couple of strange niggling coincidences, I think this is the best vacation I've ever had. It's not like I really need people to answer my calls. Except I do, since my vehicle's been disabled and my phone doesn't work and I haven't heard from any of my friends in months, and by now some of you should probably have noticed that they haven't talked to me.

We're not quite at EMERGENCY level standards yet, BUT THINGS COULD ESCALATE QUICKLY AT ANY MOMENT. Sounds good to me but I don't think anybody else feels the same way. ;)


I'm thinking maybe somebody's trying to get rid of me like scare the other neighborhood like a coordinated program to encourage me to go away because they don't like my Hungarian ways, you dig? Little do they know this is the most exciting time I've ever had in my entire life, and if there's really this much weird attention being paid my way, they ain't seen nothing yet. Wait until the house transforms into a robot. They'll be shooting into their pants then, that's for sure.

Also this isn't getting anybody get their money back any sooner. If anything, it's canceled debt, they just don't know it yet.

Quote from: Jackstar on September 05, 2022, 11:07:36 PMI'm putting the rings back together.

The new configuration is complete, and there is not much to tell why the new configuration is any different.

No other important news to report until I finish my breakfast meal of beer and chocolate cake.

Strange complications with gangstalking and spooky interactions at a distance have occurred, and are looking likely to be going to occur on an ongoing basis.

It's possible that some people have not realized just how stubborn I am. I'll see what I can do about finding out what the hell is actually happening. I don't think there's LSD in the water supply and if there were, I'm not drinking it anyway.

This should probably be a new topic but this is where I start off with: THE RINGS.

Quote from: K_Dubb on September 05, 2022, 11:32:37 PMall I am to you is the sound of balls on taint 

Let's not forget that you're also the judgmental prick who decided it was fine to leave me fucked off for 3 years while you danced around and giggled, thinking you had a great idea in your mind fucking insulating me from fucking reality.

Well it wasn't very good idea. I've gone from being happy and cooperative to pissed off and annoyed and that's on you the whole fucking ticket all of it.

No doubt those Norwegian books will take great care to make sure they leave you with enough money to buy your lutefisk.

Hi, of course, don't give a shit, you have had your chance to be close to me you had your chance be kind to me and you also had your chance to go fuck yourself.

Personally that is something that I can happily leave you with. I am not even mad; you're the one who's
chilling with your homies with a fucking psychotic break in your head, like a fuckin' tickin' fuckin' time bomb.

From what I've seen the psychological battery you're going to be experiencing is not going to be to your liking. I wouldn't know I've never been psychotic so I couldn't tell you.

Thoughts and prayers. Tell anybody you know who knows me that I don't give a fuck they can call me whenever they feel like it I don't want to inflate your fragile ego any further, but you know you really could have made a different choice about 10 minutes ago and now you can't.

Now: THAT IS POWER.

https://youtu.be/cCw3y89VXgA


D. Victoria R.
HE'S A GIRL

(Boom boom chickadee boom chicky)

Quote from: Nyewalker on September 05, 2022, 11:06:33 PMTacoBell delivery

The weak-wristed ankle bracelet wearing scumbag actress they hire didn't even explain to me the taco joke I don't even get why it's supposed to be bothersome other than the fact that it's yet another in joke that I wasn't involved in like I don't think you understand it's like how far ago they fucking separated me from reality I haven't seen you in years.

But let me guess just last week you're on some message board talking about how that one's obviously Jackstar pretending to be a troll. you know what you're pretty mistaken about a lot of stuff.

For example just tonight earlier I was on a stream where I saw some fat retarded girl who seems to think that she knows something about investigations looking around telling people that I am known for being a troll which is only because she's fucking parenting the God damn fucking propaganda that she's been fed by the fucking Kremlin.

I'm not a troll. I'm a star. And if a person is not aware of the inability of a person to defend themselves in the internet when they're alone and they're up against insurmountable odds and just accepts his written everything that is said about a person without bother to check with primary sources they deserve exactly what they get I don't give a fuck of her fucking grifting Posey scheme empire collapses to the ground I give a fucking get a fucking job how many fucking jobs are there for a big fat fucking idiot who fucking believes all those fucking bullshit I'm sure there's not very many but hey that's okay I don't need her to make money off my back and she's not fucking going to. Fucking pull the plug.

Quote from: WOTR on September 05, 2022, 10:44:29 PMTo answer the question, I tried.

I'm putting the rings back together. I really appreciated finding out what happens when one disassembles a part of a magickal wedding necklace—I learned a lot—I'm just going to put it back together now because obviously this is no improvement for everyone that matters to me. (It's a short list and the rest of you can go fuck yourself.)

I think that the circumstances have changed significantly since the last time I was able to speak to another fucking human being that meant something to me, the people around here are certainly very nice for automatons but they aren't actually in sold beings at my level, so I think I'd like to actually have a goddamn conversation without the risk of going to fucking jail for $364 days it's not a very fair threat to pull over ahead and I hope you fucking rotten hell with no fucking teeth you curb stop ready fucking little Texan bitch. (Those of you and playing the home game me not realize that there were 17 different people playing the role of AFF Shaw and I don't know which of them are any of them anymore cuz they've all been reassigned to give a new names I would like to talk to two of them because two of them keep trying to call me and I can't talk to them and they probably want to talk to me and then for whatever reason they're being threatened with all kinds of repercussions if they don't shut up and not talk to me well fuck you I want to talk to him and her AND WHOMEVER WANTS TO TALK TO ME, BIRD FOUL ANIMAL VEGETABLE MISTRAL I DON'T GIVE A FUCK THEY WANT TO TALK TO JACK STAR THEY'RE GETTING THROUGH AND YOU'RE NOT FUCKING KEEPING ANY SINGLE ONE FUCKING PERSON BACK BECAUSE IF YOU ARE I WILL HUFF BUT I WILL PUFF AND I'LL KNOCK DOWN THOSE FUCKING JERICHO WALLS and I don't give a fuck who thinks they have ownership over my life—YOU FUCKING DON'T.

Quote from: WOTR on September 05, 2022, 10:44:29 PMIt was my plan to avoid accidentally carrying to and spreading it to others in my life.

That is a noble and decent reason to carry around a rosary or a Saint Christopher's medal but you need to understand that the fucking bioweapon spread around the world in the first six days. and I don't know what the fuck you think you were doing by not spreading around others by you know wearing gloves or washing your hands or or shitting in the street or whatever but I don't care because I just got it how long ago I don't know last week 2 weeks ago and then it seems pretty late for me to get it so if I was spreading it around I'm not sure why I got it this late. tell you what I don't really care that's not my concern right now I do need to have some sort of conversation with somebody and I don't care who has gotten married or moved on with their life or whatever the people who want to talk to me want to talk to me for whatever fucking reason they want to talk to me and I'm not opposed to talking to somebody who's married or somebody's in the hospital or whatever I just want the fucking phone to ring because the fucking phone does ring and then calls are blocked and whoever decided to block my fucking calls is going to smoke a fucking turd In Hell at the end of their natural lifespan and I will be there waiting for them with the fucking phone book to beat their fucking jaw in half.


Some people here are unaware of the fact that they have been taking advantage of a brain damaged cheerleader who had a panic attack on Christmas Eve and was then kidnapped and prevented from talking to me for the last fucking year you should probably get out of the way of that conversation coz like I'd like to have it I don't give a fuck coz like I was calling to fucking tell her that she was going to fucking get dumped now I don't know she's going to say maybe she'll ask me to turn water into wine maybe she want me to turn letting the gold maybe she wants me to tell her what the fuck happened because she probably doesn't fucking remember now since she hasn't fucking had a G-d damn conversation with me about the event ever since and I have been denied legal representation for at least five months and even before then there wasn't very good legal representation. I don't even know what the fuck you're doing! I haven't even seen discovery! AFTER 10 FUCKING MONTHS! ARE YOU STILL WAITING FOR IT TO PRINT OUT AT KINKO'S? You are dangerous and pathetic. you've scheduled trials for a bullshit case where I was attacked (and I'm the primary victim) and you've allowed a whole bunch of fucking worthless reprobate cowards and communists to fucking hide behind this idiot fucking bullshit excuse of the dumbest magic bullet theory I've ever heard my life. you have no probable cause. you have no case. you have shit. this is the most egregious failure of the American justice system I've ever witnessed up front and frankly it's very flattering however there are people who are tired of it and so am I, so it's going to fucking end.

Did I fucking stutter? Let me know in the comments below, and then go back to sucking each other's dicks for a while you obviously need practice.

Quote from: paladin1991 on September 05, 2022, 10:02:11 PMWTF are you doing out of your closet, young man?  BAck to your closet.  Lie  down on your fouled nest of diapers and bath towels.  You stay inside now and let the big ppl talk.

I have a better idea. How about you never tell me what to do ever again and then you'll find that I just do things naturally the way they need to be done!

I don't know what makes you think you're important at all. I do realize that we've done this like four times over 12 years no maybe 15? I really don't think it works well for you.

I on the other hand I'm just simply tired of wasting time and I like to get something constructed done and I'm not going to do it under your terms nor anyone else's since I've been saying the same consistent message the entire time and apparently it's just too much people handle and blocking me has been inevitable result.

Well I guess you might want to try getting my cooperation because nothing's going to change. I'm going to drink beer until I win. It's like that thing Gandhi says but I can't remember the rest of it.

Also you're a douchebag so I don't really care that it's nice to see you again although it is nice to see you again but you're an even bigger douche than before. Once again where do you get off and what makes you think you have any sort of a leg to stand on? Are you fucking the smoke in the hallucinogens, or are you being controlled by the bio bugs that have invaded everybody?

They don't work so well when you're in line with God. All things serve the beam including the bio bug.


Also you're a tedious rude unconscionable asshole with an even worse attitude than normal.

What do you think I'm gonna do, kiss your ass? Thanks for forgiveness? I didn't do anything wrong! Now well I understand that's the same thing said by a lot of people who are in prison for life for that credit didn't commit I somehow think this time is going to be a little bit different.

Additionally I'm just simply saying the same thing I've been saying for months just perhaps a little less politely but then again you really don't believe politeness, give me back my friends and shut the fuck up and never talk to me again and maybe I'll have a beer for you one day in the meantime, piss off and blow. You really aren't that impressive since you've been playing the same bully card for the last 20 fucking years and it doesn't work well. It doesn't work well now it didn't work well before it's never going to work very well with me and especially not since now I'm pissed off whereas before I was completely cooperative for months if not years you had ample opportunity to not be an asshole and instead you decide to be an asshole so fuck you I'm going to have another beer and then I'm not going to mow my lawn I'm not going to even fucking listen to you cuz I've already told you what needs to fucking happen and that is not negotiable.

Not anymore. Not with you. Go lick your own dog sisters ass and go to hell I don't give a fuck.

Quote from: Yorkshire pud on September 05, 2022, 06:37:40 PMJohnson is a mendacious, conniving, disgusting entitled cunt.

Does he have legal protections for consuming entheogenic substances? I'm looking for a baseline on this entitlement level here.

By the way how was your Christmas? I must confess, I didn't think of you at all; not even once. I need a baseline on that too.

I'm looking for this data so I know how much menacity in conniving this I need to bounce back with in coming weeks. It is a very exciting time for Humanity! Punylings too!! Also I think one of my tripartite pairs moved to Britain. I don't know why but I've a hunch I'm going to hunt.

Quote from: Yorkshire pud on September 05, 2022, 06:37:40 PMdisgusting entitled cunt.

Nobody's perfect. Her name is "not_Regina." Better not to start with a hyphen. Better to come up starting out on the side.

Preferably not with the colostomy bag. No, no no, hard pass, that's for you.

Quote from: Yorkshire pud on September 05, 2022, 06:37:40 PMHe has been fired from two of the arguably most untrusted professions there are because of mendacity, being a newspaper journalist and an MP, he lied in both jobs and was fired for it.

To be fair, no one should have a problem with somebody lying. Just activate your psychokinetic shielding with mirror magick component plug-in, and then...

Oh, right, Punylings.

Quote from: Yorkshire pud on September 05, 2022, 06:37:40 PMhe certainly fucked them over on Brexit.

Opinions vary.

Quote from: pyewacket on September 05, 2022, 05:29:03 PM

A sight for sore eyes. The glitter in the darkness of my world. Probably not my MK–ULTRA Monarch controller.

Oh, but wouldn't that be awesome! *swoons with happiness at the notion* And the holder of the sacred icon Avatar of Patsy Stone, who I must point out as both a female and a Knight of Columbus, outranks me on basically every level.

Welcome back to the beginning of the end. I wish I had more to offer you than this: *shoves bag of needles at you* quick, I need some dirty DNA and evidence of hardcore drug use in these in these. I have no way of getting access to these substances —standards— but the moment of truth is coming up swiftly, and I really only get one shot at this:

I want all this to look good for my adoring public. People have legitimate expectations at this point. I literally don't know whether or not adrenochrome is used with a needle when getting high, or a pipette or a turkey baster or what? I don't want to let anybody down.

I need answers, pyewacket, and I need them now.

Quote from: Jackstar on September 05, 2022, 01:56:36 PMGet a real job, loser. All you do is sit around taking bribes. When was the last time you told a joke that didn't end with someone's mother getting raped?

You might consider how much use I could have been if you hadn't injected all my girlfriends with heroin. Now, Narcotics Anonymous are involved. That's a fine way to stimulate the economy. I bet you're proud of what you're totally getting away with.

It never ends with you. After years of sitting around watching your friend lie to me about what she was doing, now you're suddenly demanding I produce results. However, you are neglecting to remember that I completed The Great Work.

That was pretty goddam useful. The fact that it may not have been useful to you is only relevant insofar as you didn't manage to get points on the back end... I guess because you didn't make



Root, hog, or die. While you wallowed around in your fetid slops, oinking at the farmer in a regaling fashion to proclaim how delicious the offspring of all the other livestock were... I did all three as best I could. Just look at me! I'm one decision away from killing myself, and all you would have to do is send over one of your white-coated cannabilistic humanoid underground dwellers with a pair of shrunken heads and a stethoscope made out of two tin cans and a hank of twine to declare, "yep, he did it to himself, case closed," tie a tag to my toe, dump four jerry cans of kerosene and one of thermite in my bedroom, then light a match and walk away. And you couldn't even get that right. I gave you nearly a year to let those two adorable lovebirds build their very own matched pair of ranch-style homes with on-lot mother-in-law bungalows with lacey curtains in the kitchen windows, flapping gently in the breeze, and YOU couldn't even keep them content with each other, even with all the King's horses and all the King's men to plow their fields and yoke their oxen to do it. You're decidedly despicable.

I could have been a landlord. Instead you wasted the best opportunity you ever had to prove that you ever knew what you were talking about at all, and when I take the witness stand, bite down hard on my cyanide—filled hollow tooth and tell you and everyone else to kiss my ass goodbye, I'll look down from Heaven where I have already ascended to and descended from twice this morning while sitting on the shitter, and see those loathsome, reprobate scum that you've surrounded yourself with for years, clock-turn-and-pivot as one and hut-hut-honey up to your doorstep and say to you, "eh... what's up next, Doc?"

Well? What was your endgame after driving me to, *polite_cough* "suicide?" Are you gonna whip out the manuscript that you stole from my mommy's lawyer's estate's belongings and give everyone left with their head and shoulders above water a job writing oral book reports that incoming migrants can use to prove their worth to you? That's still not going to put shoes on my (Wife|Not_Wife)'s hooves. And if she hadn't lied about being married to you in the first place, I would have gotten a job as a cashier in a Costco someplace civilized enough to let a man who has been blacklisted from every respectable echelon of and access to decent society live quietly in peace, getting stoned.

That actually was the plan, not so many years ago. Now, because of your inerrant, relentless greed and the breathtaking incompetency of your churlish minions, you have everything you ever wanted—the mighty Kuczi has struck out. His family—fucked over and dead. His future—fucked and dead over. His fucklife consists of little more than moaning and groaning all alone in an otherwise empty 3-bd farmhouse on a plot of land that is, in fact, being developed—it's just not being developed for him.

But not for you, either. You've been beaten, bested, and bettered at your own kick-the-can-down-the-road Great Game, and we all know it. Dogs and cats frolicking together in the streets know it. Traffic on the streets, already slowed to a crawl from the pandemic that you created in your Gates-funded bioweapons lab that your foul, hazmat-suited, demonic hell-spawn taught you to open the combination locks thereof with the arcane technology known as "memorizing the list of recipes to blame people for eating too much of," because you can't really have it both ways can you?

Either I started the fire and stopped you from letting it roast you alive, or, it was always burning and I stood dead strike atop the only water spigot available for miles around in any direction, whirling a pair of nunchuks in one hand and single-handedly wielding knives akimbo, and with my last dying breath I prevented you from becoming the hero you were always meant to be... Doctor Zero.

Frankly, if you were even only slightly less shorter and a lot more dedicated to your craft, you could have just given me a job as a wet nurse with two Canadian bags of milk and a roll of duct tape. And, I WOULD HAVE BEEN HAPPY WITH THAT. But, no. No, you chose another way you thought were best for you, you and your filthy, steaming ilk.

You chose to take everything I ever had and everything I was ever gonna get, and send me back to God. I chose to simply... do as My Maker told me to do, though and through the pernicious Hell that you sought to bar my way. And, look where we've ended up.

At this point, what difference did any of it make? Well, since I've been such a spammer, you no doubt have links at hand to take you to my past collection of published work (most of it currently offline due to my MIB Content DElivery Network being left unplugged because I didn't feel like letting some vapid pimp take any credit for plugging yet another even more vapid whore to take what could only laughingly be called "legal action" in order to complete what amounts to the incineration of The Third Wing of The New Library Of Alexandria w/Attached Vegan Juice'n'Jewish Diplomacy Bar—but it can be all turned back on as easily as it was turned off, which is a lot more than I can say about any or either of any of your besotted spouses, but only because I don't know the formula for fuck-me pills 'n' powders that each and every one of you probably has tattooed on the inside of your left elbow, just in case of EMERGENCY; and meanwhile I'll never be turned on enough to sire any bastards ever again, which seems to have been your entire purpose in the first place so...) shouldn't you be totally toteshappy?

Look at my works, ye mighty and despair: FOR I AM "but he's a dick," & I MADE "Ozzie & Harriet" a nicely raised dias for you to burn all your unwanted witches upon. (I even did bring marshmallows, but they hit the ground melting in with the lasagna.) I even created my own irregular Lodge, ye daft punkin' dunkin' cunt'n'donut eatin' Ponce, suitable for framing or wrapping fish: whichever one you want to suck off your Supreme Grand Master off to the sounds to. Don't hate me because I've won, hate me because I've won while following your rules, and if I did that while showing you the hypocrisy of your actions, at least I didn't forcibly & coercively trick'n'swindle you to lie down and lick a sponsor's spindle in the bed that I was generous enough to allow you to wallow about in with your assorted, mewling coterie of whorish flunkies, slimy sycophantic spouses, and the Archcriminal Mrs. Paul.

And you couldn't even make her archcome. Pfftt. Just what is it that you would say that you actually do around here? Well, there's still time left remaining before I give up the ghost: how about you get off your fat lazy ass and do a little bit more of it. Hey, here's an idea: pick up a side gig. Get a little moonlighting hustle. Go out to the coast and have a few laughs while trying your hand at busking. How about a series of public service announcements promoting pill to relieve premature baldness? Something worthwhile. Anything of substance. So that we can put a knife in a fork into and call a steak without having to actually find a cow that isn't already a vampire yet.

For God's sake, get out there on stage and do something else besides just going "moo" and spitting up yet another gurgle of Ebola-ridden blood onto yet another snooty 'n' snotty Homecoming princess with, again—you guessed it—a brand-new Caduceus tail squirming its way out of her anus and singing, "it's time to show the world our famed Ourborous trick, but first, let me introduce... The Aristocrats!"

They're going to be in the shower doing blow off of dirty mirrors with filthy silly straws for the next 1,950 minutes, so I hope you pack the f****** lunch mother f*****, and if not I guess you can start lining up the boys to fill your cup o'noodles with hot, funky fresh semen. I don't know what that'll mean for your dinner plans tonight, but hey, you're smart, you and the FDA can probably figure out something nutritious from the food pyramid that'll ensure you watch that weight and keep that firm body.

Or, you know, maybe just end the misery here, at the source of the stream, and hypnotize me with your MK ultra controller codes and force me to jump into the boiling pot of stew myself and gladly dissolve my own bone broth for you to guzzle tonight while you compliment yourself on your senses of good character, clean living, and fantastic comedic timing—as long as Google Analytics still has a app you can use for that. (I wrote it—here's the patent, you probably don't know how you can file it, but don't worry, all your drawers are flat, but your secretary isn't.)

Quote from: Jackstar on September 05, 2022, 01:56:36 PMGet a real job, loser. All you do is sit around taking bribes. When was the last time you told a joke that didn't end with someone's mother getting raped?

You might consider how much use I could have been if you hadn't injected all my girlfriends with heroin. Now, Narcotics Anonymous are involved. That's a fine way to stimulate the economy. I bet you're proud of what you're totally getting away with.

It never ends with you. After years of sitting around watching your friend lie to me about what she was doing, now you're suddenly demanding I produce results. However, you are neglecting to remember that I completed The Great Work.

That was pretty goddam useful. The fact that it may not have been useful to you is only relevant insofar as you didn't manage to get points on the back end... I guess because you didn't make



Root, hog, or die. While you wallowed around in your fetid slops, oinking at the farmer in a regaling fashion to proclaim how delicious the offspring of all the other livestock were... I did all three as best I could. Just look at me! I'm one decision away from killing myself, and all you would have to do is send over one of your white-coated cannabilistic humanoid underground dwellers with a pair of shrunken heads and a stethoscope made out of two tin cans and a hank of twine to declare, "yep, he did it to himself, case closed," tie a tag to my toe, dump four jerry cans of kerosene and one of thermite in my bedroom, then light a match and walk away. And you couldn't even get that right. I gave you nearly a year to let those two adorable lovebirds build their very own matched pair of ranch-style homes with on-lot mother-in-law bungalows with lacey curtains in the kitchen windows, flapping gently in the breeze, and YOU couldn't even keep them content with each other, even with all the King's horses and all the King's men to plow their fields and yoke their oxen to do it. You're decidedly despicable.

I could have been a landlord. Instead you wasted the best opportunity you ever had to prove that you ever knew what you were talking about at all, and when I take the witness stand, bite down hard on my cyanide—filled hollow tooth and tell you and everyone else to kiss my ass goodbye, I'll look down from Heaven where I have already ascended to and descended from twice this morning while sitting on the shitter, and see those loathsome, reprobate scum that you've surrounded yourself with for years, clock-turn-and-pivot as one and hut-hut-honey up to your doorstep and say to you, "eh... what's up next, Doc?"

Well? What was your endgame after driving me to, *polite_cough* "suicide?" Are you gonna whip out the manuscript that you stole from my mommy's lawyer's estate's belongings and give everyone left with their head and shoulders above water a job writing oral book reports that incoming migrants can use to prove their worth to you? That's still not going to put shoes on my (Wife|Not_Wife)'s hooves. And if she hadn't lied about being married to you in the first place, I would have gotten a job as a cashier in a Costco someplace civilized enough to let a man who has been blacklisted from every respectable echelon of and access to decent society live quietly in peace, getting stoned.

That actually was the plan, not so many years ago. Now, because of your inerrant, relentless greed and the breathtaking incompetency of your churlish minions, you have everything you ever wanted—the mighty Kuczi has struck out. His family—fucked over and dead. His future—fucked and dead over. His fucklife consists of little more than moaning and groaning all alone in an otherwise empty 3-bd farmhouse on a plot of land that is, in fact, being developed—it's just not being developed for him.

But not for you, either. You've been beaten, bested, and bettered at your own kick-the-can-down-the-road Great Game, and we all know it. Dogs and cats frolicking together in the streets know it. Traffic on the streets, already slowed to a crawl from the pandemic that you created in your Gates-funded bioweapons lab that your foul, hazmat-suited, demonic hell-spawn taught you to open the combination locks thereof with the arcane technology known as "memorizing the list of recipes to blame people for eating too much of," because you can't really have it both ways can you?

Either I started the fire and stopped you from letting it roast you alive, or, it was always burning and I stood dead strike atop the only water spigot available for miles around in any direction, whirling a pair of nunchuks in one hand and single-handedly wielding knives akimbo, and with my last dying breath I prevented you from becoming the hero you were always meant to be... Doctor Zero.

Frankly, if you were even only slightly less shorter and a lot more dedicated to your craft, you could have just given me a job as a wet nurse with two Canadian bags of milk and a roll of duct tape. And, I WOULD HAVE BEEN HAPPY WITH THAT. But, no. No, you chose another way you thought were best for you, you and your filthy, steaming ilk.

You chose to take everything I ever had and everything I was ever gonna get, and send me back to God. I chose to simply... do as My Maker told me to do, though and through the pernicious Hell that you sought to bar my way. And, look where we've ended up.

At this point, what difference did any of it make? Well, since I've been such a spammer, you no doubt have links at hand to take you to my past collection of published work (most of it currently offline due to my MIB Content DElivery Network being left unplugged because I didn't feel like letting some vapid pimp take any credit for plugging yet another even more vapid whore to take what could only laughingly be called "legal action" in order to complete what amounts to the incineration of The Third Wing of The New Library Of Alexandria w/Attached Vegan Juice'n'Jewish Diplomacy Bar—but it can be all turned back on as easily as it was turned off, which is a lot more than I can say about any or either of any of your besotted spouses, but only because I don't know the formula for fuck-me pills 'n' powders that each and every one of you probably has tattooed on the inside of your left elbow, just in case of EMERGENCY; and meanwhile I'll never be turned on enough to sire any bastards ever again, which seems to have been your entire purpose in the first place so...) shouldn't you be totally toteshappy?

Look at my works, ye mighty and despair: FOR I AM "but he's a dick," & I MADE "Ozzie & Harriet" a nicely raised dias for you to burn all your unwanted witches upon. (I even did bring marshmallows, but they hit the ground melting in with the lasagna.) I even created my own irregular Lodge, ye daft punkin' dunkin' cunt'n'donut eatin' Ponce, suitable for framing or wrapping fish: whichever one you want to suck off your Supreme Grand Master off to the sounds to. Don't hate me because I've won, hate me because I've won while following your rules, and if I did that while showing you the hypocrisy of your actions, at least I didn't forcibly & coercively trick'n'swindle you to lie down and lick a sponsor's spindle in the bed that I was generous enough to allow you to wallow about in with your assorted, mewling coterie of whorish flunkies, slimy sycophantic spouses, and the Archcriminal Mrs. Paul.

And you couldn't even make her archcome. Pfftt. Just what is it that you would say that you actually do around here? Well, there's still time left remaining before I give up the ghost: how about you get off your fat lazy ass and do a little bit more of it. Hey, here's an idea: pick up a side gig. Get a little moonlighting hustle. Go out to the coast and have a few laughs while trying your hand at busking. How about a series of public service announcements promoting pill to relieve premature baldness? Something worthwhile. Anything of substance. So that we can put a knife in a fork into and call a steak without having to actually find a cow that isn't already a vampire yet.

For God's sake, get out there on stage and do something else besides just going "moo" and spitting up yet another gurgle of Ebola-ridden blood onto yet another snooty 'n' snotty Homecoming princess with, again—you guessed it—a brand-new Caduceus tail squirming its way out of her anus and singing, "it's time to show the world our famed Ourborous trick, but first, let me introduce... The Aristocrats!"

They're going to be in the shower doing blow off of dirty mirrors with filthy silly straws for the next 1,950 minutes, so I hope you pack the f****** lunch mother f*****, and if not I guess you can start lining up the boys to fill your cup o'noodles with hot, funky fresh semen. I don't know what that'll mean for your dinner plans tonight, but hey, you're smart, you and the FDA can probably figure out something nutritious from the food pyramid that'll ensure you watch that weight and keep that firm body.

Or, you know, maybe just end the misery here, at the source of the stream, and hypnotize me with your MK ultra controller codes and force me to jump into the boiling pot of stew myself and gladly dissolve my own bone broth for you to guzzle tonight while you compliment yourself on your senses of good character, clean living, and fantastic comedic timing—as long as Google Analytics still has a app you can use for that. (I wrote it—here's the patent, you probably don't know how you can file it, but don't worry, all your drawers are flat, but your secretary isn't.)

Careful, astute readers will note that I didn't really finish this; how does my creative flow has been interrupted I can't really be bothered to do so now. I'm so depressed. The only thing that seems worth finishing is my miserable worthless life, and it's just too bad that I couldn't figure out a way to make something of it that everyone else could agree with.

Maybe I should have just been a dick sucking whore. I've already got the bare legs showing, after all. I could have been something useful with a dick in my mouth and a corn cob up my ass and a signature plastered across multiple legal documents, but no, oh no... I just couldn't close the deal.

Humanity is no doubt all the better off for it. And now if you excuse me, I'm going to go outside and move my lawn from one side to the other, one blade at a time with a pair of pinking shears and a laser scalpel, painstakingly stitching back together the cut ends onto another patch of ground somewhere else, another 500 ft down the road.

I don't want to get in any body's way.

Quote from: Dr. MD MD on September 05, 2022, 04:05:52 AMa useless spammer like you.

Get a real job, loser. All you do is sit around taking bribes. When was the last time you told a joke that didn't end with someone's mother getting raped?

You might consider how much use I could have been if you hadn't injected all my girlfriends with heroin. Now, Narcotics Anonymous are involved. That's a fine way to stimulate the economy. I bet you're proud of what you're totally getting away with.

It never ends with you. After years of sitting around watching your friend lie to me about what she was doing, now you're suddenly demanding I produce results. However, you are neglecting to remember that I completed The Great Work.

That was pretty goddam useful. The fact that it may not have been useful to you is only relevant insofar as you didn't manage to get points on the back end... I guess because you didn't make



Root, hog, or die. While you wallowed around in your fetid slops, oinking at the farmer in a regaling fashion to proclaim how delicious the offspring of all the other livestock were... I did all three as best I could. Just look at me! I'm one decision away from killing myself, and all you would have to do is send over one of your white-coated cannabilistic humanoid underground dwellers with a pair of shrunken heads and a stethoscope made out of two tin cans and a hank of twine to declare, "yep, he did it to himself, case closed," tie a tag to my toe, dump four jerry cans of kerosene and one of thermite in my bedroom, then light a match and walk away. And you couldn't even get that right. I gave you nearly a year to let those two adorable lovebirds build their very own matched pair of ranch-style homes with on-lot mother-in-law bungalows with lacey curtains in the kitchen windows, flapping gently in the breeze, and YOU couldn't even keep them content with each other, even with all the King's horses and all the King's men to plow their fields and yoke their oxen to do it. You're decidedly despicable.

I could have been a landlord. Instead you wasted the best opportunity you ever had to prove that you ever knew what you were talking about at all, and when I take the witness stand, bite down hard on my cyanide—filled hollow tooth and tell you and everyone else to kiss my ass goodbye, I'll look down from Heaven where I have already ascended to and descended from twice this morning while sitting on the shitter, and see those loathsome, reprobate scum that you've surrounded yourself with for years, clock-turn-and-pivot as one and hut-hut-honey up to your doorstep and say to you, "eh... what's up next, Doc?"

Well? What was your endgame after driving me to, *polite_cough* "suicide?" Are you gonna whip out the manuscript that you stole from my mommy's lawyer's estate's belongings and give everyone left with their head and shoulders above water a job writing oral book reports that incoming migrants can use to prove their worth to you? That's still not going to put shoes on my (Wife|Not_Wife)'s hooves. And if she hadn't lied about being married to you in the first place, I would have gotten a job as a cashier in a Costco someplace civilized enough to let a man who has been blacklisted from every respectable echelon of and access to decent society live quietly in peace, getting stoned.

That actually was the plan, not so many years ago. Now, because of your inerrant, relentless greed and the breathtaking incompetency of your churlish minions, you have everything you ever wanted—the mighty Kuczi has struck out. His family—fucked over and dead. His future—fucked and dead over. His fucklife consists of little more than moaning and groaning all alone in an otherwise empty 3-bd farmhouse on a plot of land that is, in fact, being developed—it's just not being developed for him.

But not for you, either. You've been beaten, bested, and bettered at your own kick-the-can-down-the-road Great Game, and we all know it. Dogs and cats frolicking together in the streets know it. Traffic on the streets, already slowed to a crawl from the pandemic that you created in your Gates-funded bioweapons lab that your foul, hazmat-suited, demonic hell-spawn taught you to open the combination locks thereof with the arcane technology known as "memorizing the list of recipes to blame people for eating too much of," because you can't really have it both ways can you?

Either I started the fire and stopped you from letting it roast you alive, or, it was always burning and I stood dead strike atop the only water spigot available for miles around in any direction, whirling a pair of nunchuks in one hand and single-handedly wielding knives akimbo, and with my last dying breath I prevented you from becoming the hero you were always meant to be... Doctor Zero.

Frankly, if you were even only slightly less shorter and a lot more dedicated to your craft, you could have just given me a job as a wet nurse with two Canadian bags of milk and a roll of duct tape. And, I WOULD HAVE BEEN HAPPY WITH THAT. But, no. No, you chose another way you thought were best for you, you and your filthy, steaming ilk.

You chose to take everything I ever had and everything I was ever gonna get, and send me back to God. I chose to simply... do as My Maker told me to do, though and through the pernicious Hell that you sought to bar my way. And, look where we've ended up.

At this point, what difference did any of it make? Well, since I've been such a spammer, you no doubt have links at hand to take you to my past collection of published work (most of it currently offline due to my MIB Content DElivery Network being left unplugged because I didn't feel like letting some vapid pimp take any credit for plugging yet another even more vapid whore to take what could only laughingly be called "legal action" in order to complete what amounts to the incineration of The Third Wing of The New Library Of Alexandria w/Attached Vegan Juice'n'Jewish Diplomacy Bar—but it can be all turned back on as easily as it was turned off, which is a lot more than I can say about any or either of any of your besotted spouses, but only because I don't know the formula for fuck-me pills 'n' powders that each and every one of you probably has tattooed on the inside of your left elbow, just in case of EMERGENCY; and meanwhile I'll never be turned on enough to sire any bastards ever again, which seems to have been your entire purpose in the first place so...) shouldn't you be totally toteshappy?

Look at my works, ye mighty and despair: FOR I AM "but he's a dick," & I MADE "Ozzie & Harriet" a nicely raised dias for you to burn all your unwanted witches upon. (I even did bring marshmallows, but they hit the ground melting in with the lasagna.) I even created my own irregular Lodge, ye daft punkin' dunkin' cunt'n'donut eatin' Ponce, suitable for framing or wrapping fish: whichever one you want to suck off your Supreme Grand Master off to the sounds to. Don't hate me because I've won, hate me because I've won while following your rules, and if I did that while showing you the hypocrisy of your actions, at least I didn't forcibly & coercively trick'n'swindle you to lie down and lick a sponsor's spindle in the bed that I was generous enough to allow you to wallow about in with your assorted, mewling coterie of whorish flunkies, slimy sycophantic spouses, and the Archcriminal Mrs. Paul.

And you couldn't even make her archcome. Pfftt. Just what is it that you would say that you actually do around here? Well, there's still time left remaining before I give up the ghost: how about you get off your fat lazy ass and do a little bit more of it. Hey, here's an idea: pick up a side gig. Get a little moonlighting hustle. Go out to the coast and have a few laughs while trying your hand at busking. How about a series of public service announcements promoting pill to relieve premature baldness? Something worthwhile. Anything of substance. So that we can put a knife in a fork into and call a steak without having to actually find a cow that isn't already a vampire yet.

For God's sake, get out there on stage and do something else besides just going "moo" and spitting up yet another gurgle of Ebola-ridden blood onto yet another snooty 'n' snotty Homecoming princess with, again—you guessed it—a brand-new Caduceus tail squirming its way out of her anus and singing, "it's time to show the world our famed Ourborous trick, but first, let me introduce... The Aristocrats!"

They're going to be in the shower doing blow off of dirty mirrors with filthy silly straws for the next 1,950 minutes, so I hope you pack the f****** lunch mother f*****, and if not I guess you can start lining up the boys to fill your cup o'noodles with hot, funky fresh semen. I don't know what that'll mean for your dinner plans tonight, but hey, you're smart, you and the FDA can probably figure out something nutritious from the food pyramid that'll ensure you watch that weight and keep that firm body.

Or, you know, maybe just end the misery here, at the source of the stream, and hypnotize me with your MK ultra controller codes and force me to jump into the boiling pot of stew myself and gladly dissolve my own bone broth for you to guzzle tonight while you compliment yourself on your senses of good character, clean living, and fantastic comedic timing—as long as Google Analytics still has a app you can use for that. (I wrote it—here's the patent, you probably don't know how you can file it, but don't worry, all your drawers are flat, but your secretary isn't.)

Quote from: aldousburbank on September 04, 2022, 08:23:55 PMWhat I mostly think is ridiculous is making him the bad guy when clearly he fails horrendously at surpassing the corruption of his predecessors and opposition. Failure!

Change "Trump" to "Jacuzzi" and point  Yorkshire pimp and then you got the f****** same idea I'm getting f****** tired of getting blamed for f****** everything and that g*y's got carrying a hard personal axe to grind and you should shove it up his ass and twist.

Bad back. Bad day. Big bad battleaxe. To grind, oh no not Yorkshire pudd no I don't refer to her. Not as anything besides b****. /seethe