Category: Planetary Status Reports

Sweaty and greasy – the wolf women will melt into each other, swimming in their stink juices and showing love protein the way.

This was always going to be HOT and STEAMY – burning with lice magic and monkey furniture.

There are 81 earthly tribe types, and of these 7 are the “primary races” of splendor.

When you live in SPLENDOR, all the strange weevil masters send emissaries of scare nighttime and murderous oil spasms.

ERGO: the “seepage” is the smell bad power anomalies bleeding into life.

The WOLF WOMEN await the sweaty grease times so that their nether regions might be moist in the love-power of total and complete kum-goo-ation and splurge / sploosh abeyance …

Kind nester-elves will ungunjoolate the milf-maidens of HIGH NATION POWER GOLD.

Hunting humans in the Grizzle Swamp near S’compton, Utah …

Running from greeley-monks and those nasty fire mimes that can’t stop shoving their stink in our faces.

Making plastique from home improvement store bargains, as our dogs feed on the bones of the dead pimps and crips.

Mexican legions are marching on your home town, looking for easy time Sally types to make love to in the honey bucket …

Your moms? – they flaunt their boovula before the scungous hordes and pretend they have the teeth of the wolf … but they don’t.

Wolf Women scream loudest.

They are the harbingers of some dark star traveling the universe in search of stone monkeys and the blood mountains of the lost cop herders. They feed on the Sargasso Sea urchins and dying mangroves as the Yurgin-Sharks feed on the babies from the Planned Parenthood abortion factory outside Virginia Beach.

CHIEFTAIN TOMM told the 8 female consorts that he had “no time for their bullshit”, but the wolf women came for him, that very night, and tore off his junk and fed him his own shit …

Johnny Boy, the HIP HOP KING, treated his girls like trash, so the wolf women came to his home and tossed him in the dumpster, piece by piece, chunk by torn chunk, all from the wood chipper slurry …

And you question their coming?

Where they are from?

ARE THEY BITCHES?

THEY ARE WOLF WOMEN … bitches all.

HELLO TORGG-MINER SUPREME … I saw your glowing eyes burning holes in the sky as the 99 alien races approached and the plumes from their fusion drives could be seen burning in the pitch black … Sure, you can eat your “Quaker Oats”, but it’s filled with asbestos and old dead politicians …

Inglobate …

To create some kind of globe out of the muck of existence, where gravitation pinches your ass cheeks and makes you pucker up real good …

QUADRANT-44 is now complete. All the hefton-types and their nasty wives and mean children can move into their pod-zones. The refrigerators are filled with mink-wax and old stale beer, and the cupboards have chili and whiskey and bleach. Your kids will go to school and be taught how to unlearn and their children will learn how to hunt protein in the garden of death.

I left TURLEY with his mom near the diner across from the church they burnt down 6 weeks ago. I couldn’t help but think “his MOM is a WOLF WOMAN”, strutting about all saucy and greasy and covering herself in kelp-paste and erstwhile duck pudding …

Sure, I made love to your mom … down by the river, not far from where they murdered those nasty priests a few years ago … I touched her and she felt my male cane strength. Scum dealers, paid in rubies and emeralds, never had so much flesh pleasure, as her tummy shook and her insides filled with bile.

“THESE ARE THE WOLF WOMEN OF GRINKEN TOWN!”, that bishop exclaimed to those dusty followers of the old faith. They have been sojourning in the desert for 80 years and no longer feel or touch or smell.

They are LOST to God and man …

They dwell in the nightmares of Chad.

Wolf women, in search of a homeland.

Wolf women in search of their FEAR.