My TARTARIAN name is Yogon Trushyn.
My family comes from the great city of Uusoo, near the 100th MERIDIAN. These secrets are buried in the music video below.
In the years between the GREAT MUD FLOOD of 1780, and the last of the nuclear fires died down in 1870, my family migrated to the Oneida Utopian Colony where men and women had monkey sex and goals. Our jumbled past fills volumes with air pocket miracles. We ruled 67 tribes of hooker women. Our WINE was envied. We laid down our seed trail in the EAST and then moved WEST when the maps erased our names and the FLAME of Old Tartary was extinguished.
We ruled the SKIES as SPACE DEMONS and DIRIGIBLE DUKES! My great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great GRANDPA was the 64th Commodore of the GREAT TARTARY SKY NAVY … aka COMMODORE-64 … all of this encoded into the ephemera of modernity. Terrors struck the pimp lords of ANCIENT S’COMPTON and the frugal lords of Jebluus wound needle string tomes of longing and soup. During the GREAT SKY RACE of 1745, my ancestors flew a ship called the CLOUD BUSTER and its flag was gold and red and white and black. There is still a statue to my greatest ancestor, Admiral James T. Kirk, you can see it here:
And as with so much evidence of ANCIENT TARTARY, this statue was renamed FIRST and then TOPPLED by the communists and frag-warriors of MONKEY HERPES FAME.
TARTARY has been at war with DENMARK for 24,000 years …
Danes ravaged our women and stole our cigarettes …
Danes would not brush their teeth and consumed canned fish and stale vegetables …
We fought so many sky battles against the DANES and Hooker Republics of Mars.
Our lesser ancestors cleaned toilets and ate mule paste. They wandered the 8 realms of Tartary, stealing, messing about, working the docks and selling guns and whiskey to the IRISH.
I have only recently discovered my family’s origins after consuming a special mushroom and having a sample of my jizz analyzed by super-scientists at the BIOMAT money-4-blood shoppe. Inside my power-protein are the lines of past adventures and princely passions. There is a lost Shakespearean FOLIO that outlines in many histories the story of my family, but these documents were lost and replaced with INFINITE STAR WARS and MARVEL MOVIES.
Careful harmonic analysis of RAP MUSIC inscribes these truths as MIND ETCHINGS and broken tantrum dreams. WEEVIL WONDER lay beneath the deceptions and the liars must be beaten with rods. Travelers from other dimensions have relayed other findings and the MOTHMAN tells his own tale.
WE RODE MAMMOTH and ate like kings in old TARTARY.
One of my ancestors married a GIANT named “Old Tooth” – Old Tooth has one big tooth and spent his days smoking crack and hanging on the stoop of their apartment … drinking malt liquor.
Many years ago we discovered ancient jars of clay.
Stored in the jars was a dried substance, dusty, musty, pale and moldy. The material was sticky and when water was added to it, it became a smoky white griddle-cake topping. This was the kind of breakfast food that the TARTARIANS consumed daily, a wretched grease habit picked up from the DANES.
My TARTARIAN NAME is traced to KINGS AND QUEENS that ruled the bug trade of those ancient times. We accrued and LOST great wealth, and when the MUD FLOOD arrived and the 100 years of chaos we were some of the TRUE SURVIVORS, hanging on to the last crusty on the edge of the toilet bowl. We call it the GREAT FLUSH, you skleeb-yeoman call it the MUD FLOOD … we are not the same.
Maps from 1767 show my family’s holdings stretching from WEST CHICAGO to the RIO GRANDE and all the way to PORT ANGELES, WA. We owned the 5 castles which guarded the NORTH PASSAGE and we traded with sklyg-orks and weasel-woke.
