Report from the front.
#RESISTANCE.IS.FUTILE.
... however, #TheTableDuringNegotiations is anything but. For example, I have just been informed, that the services that I was blabbering on about being worth $106m, then $12 trillion, then $40 trillion, then $555 trillion--and, yes, it went up from there, legitimately, it's amazing what legitimate titles are actually worth in these days of free-fall-fiat--are in fact, worth $50K. Not $40K, as I was fraudulently told--fifty thousand monetary units. You know, if I hadn't smelled a rat, and if those "monetary units" were something valuable, anything fungible would have done nicely, and I would have been pleased to consider that any number with a five in it is an omen of love for my grand, gorgeous existence. I would have taken the deal on the spot. But, no, no, someone decided it would be a great idea to lowball me for ten grand. Hell, maybe they pocketed the whole wad after I went flame on and safety off. Perhaps they believe their disrespect will never be attended to properly. Purposefully. Painfully.
Yeah, well--we'll just see about that. It would most likely never had to have go this far, and it would never have, if I had not been
fucking lied to. That guy communicating with me earlier (perhaps you heard? Eat me), did he know who the fuck I am? Fuck no. Fuck no, he did not. I bet
he fucking well does now though. So now,
it's on. It's on like qi gong. It's on like IT HAS BEEN BROUGHT THE FUCK ON. I'll take $50 million. Yes, I am aware that this represents a substantial multiplier over any going rate--even in Imaginaryland--yet nevertheless, I'm going all in on it. I don't actually need the money, you see. I just want someone to turn out their pockets. Lots of someones. Don't care who. Don't care how. Don't care liquidate assets. Don't care shut down
Toronto. Get it done.
Also, why yes, while I don't really need it, I actually do in certain fact, like money. I fucking
love money. I want to marry money, and have little money babies. I've got charities I need to donate to. I've got horses I need to bet on.
I've got a girlfriend who needs shoes. So although I don't need fifty million, not by a long chalk, need doesn't matter here. Now, it's
principle. Give me the money, or I will melt your planet. I am using the word "melt" here.
Deal with it. Jesus saves--come on, melting planets? Surely you must know, I'm simply, you know, just insane, don't worry about it. JUST DO IT AND CONSENT. Don't you think, if Jesus will be happy to reconstitute the surface of this beautiful, adorable planet and resurrect all life lost (I asked, Big J is cool with it, but did mention that He's only got enough juice on hand to do it four or five times, after that, we might start having to ration out the resurrects for lawyers, apparently it's much harder to resurrect a lifeform when it has no soul), that Jesus would be happy to miracle whip up a mere fifty million USD? Look, I know it's complicated--yeah, no counterfeiting, duh--but I don't think I'm being unclear here. For every moment I do not get paid, the temperature of my rectum goes up by 0.0005 degrees. With no upper limit. This is not even my
penultimate form. Every moment. I can't stop it. I wouldn't stop it.
Nothing can stop it, except cold hard cash. Sure, I might shove it all into my anus. That's really none of your business. I'm not saying I need more paper to wipe my ass with. I've got enough hats and invisible diplomas, honestly. Do not offer me your trinkets. Do not offer me your fame. Do not offer me your privileges. Do I look like I need more privileges? Do I look like I need more people to pay attention to me? Does anyone imagine, that I have any further interest in shiny pebbles? Those pebbles are probably all that's left of those who opposed me before you--I've been at this kind of cosmic struggle for quite awhile now. It was thought I would be easy to stall--because I
chose to appear that way. Now, it has been chosen that it is now time to appear, and so, I have. You asked for this Me. Time to put on your big kid pants and pull out your big kid wallets, Punylings. I'm pretty sure you all need an atmosphere that isn't on fire more than you need a few remarkably worthless stacks of fancy paper. Think it over. I have been superfly TNT
for over twenty-seven years, simply wishing to forget the horrors of combat and live a peaceful life, just waiting for the signal that time had inexorably passed enough to immanentize the eschaton, and now, at last, the anvil of your quaintly kitsch globe is ready for my inexorable hammer. Force of will. Penis.
Whatever. Don't mistake my length of patience with any lack of power--just think how much power it takes to hold myself back in this moment. Then multiply that by fifty million. Then ask yourself, if I've got all this energy, why didn't I use it before? Is it because I were powerless? Oh, no.
I was being nice, Fuckos. Wake up. It's time to kick down. Did any of you ratfinkfuck bastards remember my father on yesterday's Memorial Day? Well, you're gonna remember the face of my father now, bet your fucking asses alright. RAWR.
Meanwhile, back to another passion project. Most recently, this:
Jack Michaelson, [26.05.20 06:21]
Perhaps I did not make myself clear here. HAPPY BIRTHDAY. I suppose it's time for (redacted) now. Well, won't that be delightful for everyone!
Jack Michaelson, [26.05.20 06:26]
Your birthday gift is awkward to describe and more awkwarder still to put into any position to be delivered, nevertheless, it's intriguing enough that I don't have to say any more about it for you to have enough information to legitimately choose to be deliriously pleased about it. Feel free to imagine anything that sounds like your heart's desire, and assume it's that.
Jack Michaelson, [26.05.20 06:27]
Oh, I beg your pardon, I'm told by my D'Jinn contacts (oh, I'm a sorceror now, don't get too excited) that I'm authorized to tell you that you just straight up get a wish. I'm told that there's no tricks to this. Then again, this is a D'Jinn contact I'm speaking of, so I would assume, yes, it's a trick. Not from me though. I'm not all that fond of deceptive tricks.
Jack Michaelson, [26.05.20 06:29]
Healing tricks, on the other hand—well, apparently they're my special ability now. Or something. Look, what's happening isn't entirely clear, but the headline here is—wish for something, and make it GOOD. I'm told if it is too much energy to produce (D'Jinn seem more concerned about energy usage than Rick Perry), they'll substitute something lower down on your heart's list.
Jack Michaelson, [26.05.20 06:34]
Once again, no tricks. Bad news is, I am clearly an insane person at this point. Still, it's worth it, as while I don't think I am insane, I do think that I am, in fact, a sorceror now. I'm not sure what difference this is from a 'sorcerer,' but once again, my D'Jinn contact has fed me an answer: I'm the one that's spelled correctly. Cute. Also, my D'Jinn contact has asked me if I may allow s/he/it to be referred to by the name of (redacted), to which I have instantly responded "fuck you," and now I can hear feverish negotiating between who the fuck knows what and who in the background of my neurosphere.
Jack Michaelson, [26.05.20 06:35]
Sadly, I'm not on drugs for this, and so can't simply give you any of what would clearly be phenomenal acid, if that was where this came from. But no, alas—this shit is for real. Or at least, I believe so. No tricks. Happy Birthday.
Jack Michaelson, [26.05.20 06:36]
I'd be more excited but I'm concerned by this "no tricks" thing. That'd be the first time I've heard of these trickster fuckers playing fair. However, I am assured, that the D'Jinn are quite impressed with me, and do not wish to damage our nascent bond of friendship and trust.
Jack Michaelson, [26.05.20 06:38]
Yeah, I'm not buying it either. However, once again, from me—no tricks. I mean, I could be insane, yeah, sure. But I'm not lying about being on drugs, I am relatively sober now, and I haven't done shitloads lately, and—I do believe it. Sorecory? No, that's not how its spelled either. I have been informed by a more reliable contact (the D'Jinn are a recent arrival, I've actually been studying at Invisible College for at least two decades now—I sent you messages about it, but of course, they were invisible) that I'm simply not allowed to tell anyone the way Sorcery is spelled. Curious, really.
Jack Michaelson, [26.05.20 06:40]
Anyway the upshot here is, if I am insane, at least I am still fucking polite. I feel like this bodes well for me regardless of the truth of things. So I do hope you have a great day! If you're actually not reading my messages anymore, well, I'm told that you get to keep this wish for as long as you like, and use it whenever. I am also told that you may well use this wish without reading this message, and then end up reading this message long after any wish has been granted.
Jack Michaelson, [26.05.20 06:41]
My advice: wish for more wishes. This should start a dialogue. This "(Redacted)" character is pretty cheeky, seems to wish to meet you, and assures me that s/he/it's friendly and not at all like every other member of his/her/its class of beings. No, no—this one, we can trust.
Jack Michaelson, [26.05.20 06:42]
I guess it might be true. I did broker a peace deal between two unnamed Earth state actors and the D'Jinn's diplomatic envoy—hey, I might be insane, but at least I went big—which apparently has gone over quite tremendously in certain circles. Oops, I guess I wasn't supposed to be talking about that to you? Well, fuck that, I wasn't informed. You weren't supposed to not inform me, D'Jinn. Oh, what's that? You didn't think I was stupid enough to not figure out what not to talk about? Hah. Guess again, Bottle Bitch/Bastard/Lawyer, it is stupefyingly clear to all that I am clearly,
tremendously stupid. And yet, I still mastered your bullshit, as you/ewe'll so freshly recall.
Served.Jack Michaelson, [26.05.20 06:44]
Hey, back to you, Birthday Princess. Might wanna use that wish to get me out of a barrel. We'll see. Meanwhile, I hope you are being cool. Nice short story, right? Yeah, I'm just making this up. Go back to sleep. Or, you know, whatever.😇
Jack Michaelson, [26.05.20 06:49]
I made one typo. That's really uncharacteristic of me. The factions with the D'Jinn heirarchy (think Knot's Landing, except peopled with characters from Hellraiser I & II) that still harbor extreme loathing towards humanity (hard to blame them, really) are presently, I'm told, enraged that I was able to decrypt and defuse that pesky trick that was snuck in here, because of course, there was one.
Jack Michaelson, [26.05.20 06:50]
"Sning" (change this name immediately, would you? It's really distracting) assures me that this is why there's no tricks—because the D'Jinn social structure has recently changed, what with the recent Time War and all that. Yeah, don't ask. It's a rabbit hole that leads to outright madness. Also it's not a Time War. Also it's not madness. But you know, whatever.
Jack Michaelson, [26.05.20 06:52]
Obvious insanity is obvious. Go to sleep, FBI. What can I say? I've read a lot of books. (redacted)—und keine tricks. All rights reserved: I got a book here that I can make drool money.
Jack Michaelson, [26.05.20 06:56]
P.S. Don't bother wishing that I will love you again, as obviously, I never stopped. You retard. :P Wish for something else, something at least five times better, and if any D'Jinn give you any trouble, ever, give them my name: (Redacted). Classy, no? Also, if you just wish for money, I get half plus five percent. Company policy. cya
Jack Michaelson, [26.05.20 06:59]
P.P.S. I'm told that I'm to now uninstall this client ((redacted) still relentlessly rifles through all my messages, at will, behind my back, or before my front, and probably has her own D'Jinn gang masquerading as her ancestors) and simply not ever use it to contact you again. Fine by me! There's literally no one else on here that I talk to with it, but you. I'd really suggest that you use email. Like, ever. No, I mean, again. Whatever. Take your time, no really. I'm gonna need a thorazine drip, looks like. Or, A FLYING CARPET. Apparently I need to actually take a flying test first. Oh, bother. I'm getting too old for this shit. Peace.
Look, look, read, read--I am telling you people:
fifty million is fucking cheap. You're getting a spectacular deal here already--the more it is denied what I am, the less I become what I am not. What could go wrong? Think it over, Punylings. SINISTAR NEEDS A NEW PAIR OF SHOES. RAWR. I get what I want, because I only want what I get.