interviewing for some jobs soon, I hope to have updates on this in a few weeks
I think I have the resources to keep going for a few months, it’s not as bad as I feared – but there’s more to this story
If you are listening to me on Rumble or Spotify: I don’t control the platforms, during 2020 Sound Cloud and YouTube glitched out all my stuff, until they canceled me … listening to my MP3 off the link might not always work, because I’m basically canceled … downloading the file is the only guarantee … I am sorry we have reached this point, but this is where we’re at and I didn’t choose to censor myself.
She has been prepped to provide a list of low level actors, all of whom have their own side deals so their families don’t get whacked. This means TPTB want the system to keep working a bit longer.
She gets killed (suicide) … this means TPTB want to start the fire, maybe
She gets a fake death (same as 2, with the option of providing some list that points to 1 above)
towards a new guild, fraught with fearful deliverance from NED BEATTY getaways and TANGO-CASH type hookups with WINE SLUTS from FRESNO
scientists are still selling sausage mix, with plastic DORITO surprise, when MISS MABEL gets stuck watering the garden, and all hell breaks loose when the INDIAN WORK GANG shows up
I am NOT HERE, I left you the fire beacon.
PATEL TYPE MOTEL OPERATORS are setting up down the STREET, selling mustang blood to the current travelers and the young-one hookers setting forth … at the beginning … and then getting HOOKED by the VINDALOO FREAKS of Little Calcutta …
JIMMY CARTER sold your POPS the rock and the walkman, but TORY JAPAN split the POUND and SOROS found a peso waiting for grunge metal and dark rainy fracture
I am NOT HERE, I left long ago, when my mom sold her last TIT to DUKE CHUNGO and all the gale blasters stole the MAIN PASS and stopped the Spartans from blowing their loads
depravations and depravity piled on the monkey sauce of BOMBAY, various shirtless men huddle in the HOT NIGHT, sweaty and dusky, swarthy and hungry for young busty flesh … they no longer value their own lives, they eat rat and roach, if they are lucky …
they are there, I don’t care
THE REALM OF CONCERN IS CLOSED, and the SKY TABERNACLE has been broken by the sandy heart’d whores of SECTOR-JULIET … there where women wrestle each other, buck naked, for power and prestige … only one can be SLUT MAGNIFICA …
YOU WILL pile up onto that NEW INVESTMENT SHIP, and the captain will make you first mate and the gangs of weirdos will still chase your sexy girlfriend as the chief gaslighter says: it’s what she wants, she needs it, to be complete
I am not here …
I have arrived in order to leave you all as the forest burns and the mountains crumble, my humble spaceship will zoom out of view as I say “FUCK YOU” to all of you … really …
So take your NORWEGIAN CRUISE to Legionaire’s Disease island …
I am not there either …
Trump’s Lesson: 2020 – Rule of Law is Dead, 2025 – Rule of Law is Dead … is MAGA man learning yet.
“Hubaco food, it’s for your brood, her life was a waste, his world a disgrace, just bundle up their body, it’s not really naughty, send it to the plant, even it it’s your aunt, you can’t transplant your joy, OH BOY, HAVE A HUBACO!” This is a ditty from 2029.
