Month: June 2023

Your woman wants RFK JR …

Your woman wants RFK JR to INGUGDOOLATE HER …

Your woman has fantasies about RFK JR tying her UP and flogging her with some sexual flogging tool you’d buy off the back pages of Hustler …

Your woman is at home, right now, thinking about RFK JR.

Your woman took a long lunch last week with her old college friend, Kendra, and they both made a LOVE PACT to find RFK JR and to allow HIM to insert his power wand into their boovulas and in that way make ba-ba-ba-babies …. that’s what your woman said on FACEBOOK.

Your woman has been YOUTUBE talking about RFK JR and his abs and his pecks and she’s really JUICING IT UP …

Your woman recently took a “moistness test” at her gynecologist office, thinking about RFK JR and about being pinned to some nasty dirty bed in some alley some place.

Your woman started writing this “romance novel” …

It’s about her and some old pirate named “Rob” …

They fight the British Navy and get exiled to a swamp and sex oil grease island where they are both scantily clad and it’s humid, and there is plenty of rope.

She loves him.

Your woman has been trotting around town in slinky outfits, meeting up with greasy dudes at the Screw Bar in Grinken Town. She wears torn fishnet stockings and had poorly drawn makeup and she’s kinda drunk and high on crack.

Your woman is driving your car out to the beach …

She’s wearing a bikini that has see through cups …

She bought SKUZZ WAX from TANDRY’S off of Digton Street, where the hooker congregate and trade stories of their “fishing trips” …

Your woman is hot and spicy and there’s no holding her back …

She knows what she WANTS and she WANTS RFK JR …

Your woman dreams about RFK JR and his JUICED OUT chest …

She knows his testicles have shrunk back into his body because of his dosing, it explains his voice and his acne … but she wants him.

MP3: https://planetarystatusreport.com/mp3/20230626_STARSHIP_HADES.mp3

Donate: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/doctorfreckles

Zero Hedge: HEADLINES

STARSHIP HADES:

1. Hector, the LANCE-LORD, told the council to prepare. A great SHAKING UP was upon his people and the SAND DIXIES were no longer capable of holding off the STORMS.
2. It was a massive ship, 500 meters long … it had 4 fusion drive engines and protonic afterburners and a liquid ether-matter injector for DARK MATTER space skipping and trans-linear drive.
3. Volxha, the STAR KILLER, was sure the ship would fail, so she built tumbler rockets loaded with lesbian life pods.
4. Hazy planet PEAR …
5. The great cosmic ocean, 20 light years in diameter … with islands of rock and reef … with sea creatures … and multi-generational migrations … SUPER SALMON and WHITE DWARF SHARKS big enough to swallow planets.
6. Bigfoot’s home world …
7. By the 600th year of the journey, the craft had reached 99% the speed of light …
8. EON KINGS WAGE WAR …
9. Time and space fold …
10. Goodbye cosmos, I am beyond you now.

Days without Drinking: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=7758

I take a pill: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=7734

Dating Websites: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=7732

Climate Science: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=7761

Bigfoot:

I stand there in the dark,

chewing bark,

listening to a meadowlark …

And the drinkers and thinkers and hunters chew their cud,

drink their whiskey,

and smoke their MARLBORO CIGARETTES …

And do these intrepid adventures offer me any?

Do they care about the hairy man of the Woods?

Nah …

They mock me …

They mock me in the darkness.

Start a submarine business: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=7764

I’m thinking of getting into the submarine business …

I’m gonna rig up some kind of steel barrel with a bottle of oxygen and maybe they get some kind of 3 inch window to peer out of with a light …

And I send those poor souls down to Davy Jones’ Locker …

sensitive question …

If I started a submarine business, taking people to see the dudes that died?

Where they died?

Near the titanic?

Is that insensitive and potentially cursed?

I am at peace.

I’m thinking of sending people to SPACE.

I can rig up a steam rocket using old plastic containers and the boiler from the abandoned school …

I’ll create some kind of capsule out of parts from a CESSNA CITATION and just fire people up to that place in SPACE.

You are building.

I’m thinking of starting a safari business …

I’m not gonna lead the safari, more like I arrange the passage on the ship and give the person fake ID cards, travel papers, maps to special locations, and a fake person to meet once they get to SOMALIA. I think I give them the name a human trafficker and kidnapper, I dunno, he paypals me periodically.

These fine people will sally forth and take on the world with courage, but in the end fall victim to nature, as so often happens in the jungle – and that’s what this is about fucker.

If you start a safari business, you can just dump people in the swamp some place and say “hey man, go safari” …

So you CAN be a TIGER HERO …

Wrestle the snake.

I might start contracting …

I’ll get a hammer and a saw and a drill and one of those back supports. I’ll start packing a lunch for work and buy boots with steel toes …

I’ll wake up early and get to the job site and the whole team will be really happy with me and we’ll become lifelong friends ….

Of course, after a couple weeks they notice that I don’t know what the hell I’m doing …

So I have to set fire to the job site and go underground …

All because I wanted to do the honest work of a contractor.

I’m considering becoming a fisherman.

I would build my boat out of old beer cans and stale dingy parts. I’d find old diesel motors that have been blown out and restore them using thermal lance and arc welders. After de-gunking to core pack, I’ll grease up the main axle and take that vessel OUT to SEA …

I would run tours for people from the city …

I’d say “come out on my boat son-a-bidge …”

We’d take the tides out to Stoove Island, and then linger there, as our boat slowly takes on water …

We’ll dump the old people first, feed them to the sharks that are congregating near our floundering craft …

We toss out the tourists next …

(then my first mate, Old Flick …)

But only IF I were a fisherman …

I take a pill once daily …

It’s red and green and blue and mean.

I take a pill and it cleans out my stomach lining and burns away my herpes.

I take a pill for my low blood sugar, and one for my high blood sugar, and one for my cock and one to kill all the crabs in my jock.

I take this pill for my hernia …

My insides are GREEK and CURLY and my girlfriend left me for the guy that cleans roaches out of the septic tank.

I take a pill for my kidneys … my urine is red and black and filled with GAS NODULES and cocaine dream tarts. Hookers know, man.

I get this injection from the CHARLIE ROBERTS BRIGADE to crystallize my skin and turn my blood into boiling oil.

The injection widens my gaze and provides a green pasture style love-making experience to those of us from WESTERN TOOB-TOWN.

It cures my shakes and sadness, envy.

They gave me this “special sauce”.

I was tricked into having four delphi-tubes inserted into my rectum, while I was driving my Ferrari to RENO and doing coke off the butt of my stripper girlfriend, “Sanctity”.

We were 8 miles from Gypsum Town, when the SALT TRORG FIGHTERS began chasing us.

The doctors kept cutting into me …

They removed my heart and liver …

They extracted 20 miles of veins and arteries …

They replaced what was THERE with sawdust and broken glass and metal shavings and diesel fuel and tired remembering …

Remembering the stolen bone cart.

After they broke my legs and severed my thorax, I had a whole bunch of digestive issues and lactose intolerance.

They shoved asbestos stew down my gullet and watched as I ate all my cricket flour sundae …

They took turns ANGRILY tightening the cables on my spinal implants.

They got scared …

So the surgical team brought in DOC CHAINSAW and his TIGHT JEANS CREW of sexy nurses with untreated genital herpes.

They began massaging my glimptic-zone and relieving my main squirt pipe of pressure using an air lance.

After 5 hours, they stopped, chuckled.

I spent MONTHS doing physical therapy at the CASTRO GYM where the old FIRE GENTS would run sad-wax on their junk and murmur in the darkness.

They would scrape the TIG-MOLD off of the showers where the FROG-JUMPERS would swap gelatin. That stuff would sever connections between the different lobes of the brain and allow the THIRD EYE to glow in the veil as the MOGH-DEMONS roam the world.

STAG-FORGERS gather the salt-copper from the operating room floor, after the surgeons get done mopping up the viscera and clearing the blood flue …

I ate stolen blanche sandwiches and the sorbet of marrow.

KEVIN left me at the emergency room after the 4th overdose from Fentanyl …

I would switch to KROKODIL, but my heart muscle is weak and the bite marks on my spleen have not healed.

I skipped out on my last doctor’s appointment …

They wanted to check my pulse and verify my temperatures …

They spent time poking me with a iron rod attached to a car battery, they kept laughing and mocking me as I shook and twisted …

I lay broken upon the table, and the healthcare team NEVER let up …

They took gravel and pounded it into my wounds …

They took gasoline and put it in an IV bag and shoved that damn thing into my vein.

I turned blue and sought the hard LIFE on the outside, as I slit their throats and escaped through the laundry chute.

… all because I took a pill …

… all because I’m tired of feeling sick …