They come in different forms and stripes … some graying old freak boomer, with a gloomier view of hyper-intelligent suppositories than you or I.
An ex-CIA stooge was just “hanging” with beers and his hyper-tech TENT near the truck camper in October 2023. “Hey, want to hang out … I do background checks for the deep state … free beer … right here …”
And the “Bobs” and “Garys” and various luminaries of mind fuckery swing in and out of existence on my plane – clearly this is random bullshit, and the GINGER BEARD THEORY is insane.
Do you now what a “cut out” is? – I’d never seen one until May of 2021 … somewhere in the bowels of VEGAS.
There are many such ginger-beard foragers wandering the boundary between normie offspring breeding and the husbandry of government schemes and prisons for torture. The beard can’t help you is the main point, the beard brings nonsense.
When I was a young 14S SHORAD Air Defense Officer in the 1990’s, I was told point blank: “we don’t need short range air defense, probably ever again”. And the maneuver commander proceeded to use my AVENGERS for jenky-ass overwatch because they had a FLIR. In truth, you’d need an engineering company to properly dig a position for all these AVENGERS and then they are just stuck where they are. There was no competent interest or understanding of short range air defense, back then, beyond the idea that all our adversaries would be LOW RENT post soviet collapse and decades behind us in technology.
That attitude did not change, based upon what I’ve heard, during the Global War on Terror and perhaps the negligence got WORSE. BTW: one of the reasons WHY I left the Army was because of the incompetence and outright unethical behaviors of officers appointed over me and this includes the inappropriate use of air defense in operational planning. THIS WAS SYSTEMIC, ENDEMIC, all across the US ARMY … perhaps Ft. Bliss is waking up now.
*** imagine my listeners in the last 11 years: a) had AMAZON ACCOUNTS and b) just liked the book or wrote a review for a free ass poors kindle? – wouldn’t that be funny …
Let’s say you had to move millions of people OUT of the Persian Gulf and Middle East and potentially India?
Wouldn’t a nice little “we knock out your desalinization plants” and “we nuke your sites” war spread fear and contamination and provide a BASIS to evacuate Gulf States and others to the USA and Europe.
"20 RIBEYES for 40 BUCKS!" screeched the meat monger from the back of his truck
GERMAN SHIPPERS hip hop slippers place your kippers in the basket flippers will lose their shoes and nothing remains
Insane ARAB PRIESTS MAGICIANS and SPRITES fall by the side in the night no one saw them say goodbye on their way to the weekly fry don't look at the tattoo on the steak
NAVAL goo-stew the home brew for the TROOPS for the scoops and we can RAISE THE FLAG it's a gag as marines eat flea soup in the heat
Don't look for the tattoo it's there barely in sight what a FRIGHT it shall be when NEIGHBOR TOM stops BY with hungry kids and wife crying and baby dying of hunger and thirst they'll see your tattoo and they won't care they'll just bear it and eat
twenty ribeye steaks for the makings and potato pie with peas and carrots and a salad in the rear view mirror ...
A tawdry little muggle-wrap, filled with spruce nog and syphilitic tumor sauce. His eyes gleamed, some of his dad, some of his sister-mom, and Melania looked on. Doctors CHEERED at the fertility clinic, and carried the sponge ball - it seems a surrogate to a sister-mom's kid and a brother-son's brisk.
Cursed and shaking, the little baby broke wind and a grin came across his sister-mom's face. "WHAT GRACE this baby has!", cheered "mother", as her glass emptied the maid poured another. And the ORANGE BANDITO smiled at his tree-trunk child, leering deeply into his own shame but not holding, or scolding, or folding his arms. He's the proud dad of a brother-son, sister-mom, and other assorted mutants crawling from his gird pipe.
LITTLE BARRON SPOKE the words of SANHEDRIN RELICS and CABBALISTIC echoes, he was made for narrow trees, few branches, too suckling and weak to exist on his own. He'll call his sister-mom on the phone, when he's alone and scared and pops is topping off the cocaine jar. "Mom" would get drunk and fuck the secret service guy, the one with the big cock. Sister-mom would tell her test-tube brother-son to remember the "family grit" and keep up that smiling chug-face and never give into the wretched sadness of peering into the mirror.
He's now so much older, and the words of incest are hidden in EPSTEIN CLOUDS and if the world knew? - well, look at that scrogan-beast ... the world knows, as if from some Lovecraftian tale of OLD FAMILIES and LITTLE NEW BLOOD. A flood of sky burglars awaits and the freight is guarded by banshee kites and frightened gold traders from the tunnels in Brooklyn.
8 OR 9 FEET TALL, all cartilage and grizzle, fearful and broken, an unspoken idea too obvious for most to ignore. A whorish "mom", drinking herself to sleep as a FIRST LADY FUCK FEST FORMS in her lady's room at 10 PM, even the female agents show up.
And sister-mom fucks a cushy guy with a pushy aspect, sent to spread peas and turnips and other kosher delights.
Go to sleep poor little muggle-wrap, your ways are ahead.
Only a creature as precious and tall as you can transcend the STAIN and gain some stature as a walnut STALLION ... licking toad blood and promoting SEA-FLOW style frozen Rabbi Shmuley type butt plugs.
Rest silently puddle flower ... your secret is safe with me.
Historians will wrest from the warehouse of TIME your slime dowry and Princess Scruffins, your first cousin, will blend her narrow tree pus with yours - and that next generation will have two rows of teeth and will be 20 feet tall and feed upon the hope of the weak and the innocent.
No one can stop PAPA BLUMP and his legion.
The children will bear the mark for all time.
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