COLO-CHECK from #SEAFLOW!
If you are over 50 years old you need to insert a searing anal teaser into your buttocks. You gotta test for CAM-BORG prostate minerals, when you have a chance you should call your mom and ask about the pigeon bacon and terg-bits. Your brother-dad keeps track of the blood bargains at JC PENNY’S, but your own underwear memories are fading fast and there’s no space for dirty Halloween with the Hebrew from Whidbey Island.
SEAFLOW makes an anal swab container set, you can remove and store samples and then send those samples to your friends and family and neighbors and Trump. Your sample can be sent with a simple questionnaire for your COLO-CHECK friends to answer:
1. What does it smell like?
2. What does it look like?
3. Did you take a little of the sample and rub it on your toast?
4. Are you happy about being a COLO-CHECK friend?
5. Do you intend to sue your COLO-CHECK friend?
6. Did you touch it?
COLO-CHECK friends are the KEY to the SEAFLOW colo-check system. Your “friends” smell and touch and taste your fecal samples and anal butt swabs. They observe and post pictures on TIK TOK and YOUTUBE. After days of analysis, some kind of fucking response comes back in the questionnaire. Your colo-check friend cares about you and your bleeding intestines.
COLO-CHECK FRIENDS are KITE TAILORS and ready for a fight! They will take the energy abundance of your anal blood shit swabs and turn that border party into a shanty town hustler. Your MOMS will be DESTROYED when the boys from Bounty Town show up for the fete. And the oiled boobies shine in the darkness, to save the lost from the fire.
The butt colon scooper is a DRYB device or razor sharp COLO-SPOON:
COLO-CHECK FRIENDS will dress up in fake porn-star doctor outfits and insert the SPOON TOOL in order to extract fecal swab samples and other impacted bowel type river droppings. Some TURD-MERGLER phantom-fucked your grandma-sister, and this left an indelible mark upon the porcelain and the ore basin.
Your FRIENDS will insert the COLO-SPOON, using 400 foot pounds of force. The sausage squeeze forms and then tolg-residue is left behind on the satin sheets. Your washing machine will be crimson and beet as you too sweet your cream pie mystery into folder sphincter mastery.
If you don’t have a colo-check friend, we’ll find one for you.
COLO-CHECK FRIENDS are the best at parties and HYDROGENATED herbal steer roundups. Your buttercup mansion can be built and your ONE TRUE LOVE can be there for you, cooking up coyote rascal mutton flakes and other scarab beetle melee puddings.
SO USE COLO-CHECK SEAFLOW ENABLED COLO-SPOONS!
Let the power of spider egg gels power your bowel movements!
Mosquitoes in ICELAND …
CWD
MP3: https://planetarystatusreport.com/mp3/20251115_CWD.mp3
Donate: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/doctorfreckles
*** In general for me, “outer space” is much like “hire a lawyer” or “vote” or “join a protest”. Kind of a waste of my time. When “space” becomes relevant to my life, I’ll get more interested, I promise.
OUTER SPACE: https://researchintegrity.substack.com/p/nasa-killed-the-first-moon-landing
CHRONIC WASTING DISEASE: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=23830
300 OSTRICHES: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=23825
DIRTY SHEETS: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=23821
HOLLOW MEN: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=23817
NOT LOST: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=23808
NUTRIA: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=23803
WEIRD SAM: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=23797
Just for fun: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=23862
Witness: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=23859
Quite stupid: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=23877
For people with knowledge of computer science …
*** IF you have a background in computer science and complexity, then you will understand how obnoxiously stupid this headline/summary is.
Just for fun …
WITNESS
Lately, thinking upon my experiences going back 30 fucking years, I’ve come to believe that GOD wishes me to bear witness.
The levels of delusion are off the charts right now …
The SKY HAWK SHAMAN keeps spraying.
CHRONIC WASTING DISEASE
I am here to tell you about that elk I shot with my buck-19 40-06 style monkey cutlet.
You never consulted me about your gluten free diet of herpes bears and castaway SEWER BABIES. Those were the times when we fried our mussel broth in turpentine basters and sourdough screwballs. I could have broken your FAITH, revealing to you the RED DWEEB HONEY and biscuit bop.
After I got home I tore out my jake-saw and kleeve-hammer. I beat that damn elk to pulp, then severed drisket-cord and drained the pog-fluids. There is a wrenching smell when you cut the intestines wide open and let the bile and poop mergan spill all over the precious hunctous meat of the elk. I cover myself in the MERGAN and yell “YOSEMITE SAM I AM!” to a busted out smeared out gray sky of nothingness … empty nasty bullshit. We tossed the hunks of flesh into dirty bags and tossed that shit in the walk in freezer.
After hunting we usually rub ourselves down with forest brine and fungal swabs. Our stirgen-girds are usually stiff and pulsating, as the wench-women unleash their jugs and prepare succulent meats and other orgy bacon. The CHEESE SURPRISE happens by accident, and everyone is gone … totally mortified by the resin gloop.
Last year?
I killed 500 elk, harvested about 25 pounds total of usable meats and sausages. The rest was worm ridden, tumors and gizz-bugs. You could see the death of the world in the sinews and bone caverns empty of marrow and black with dusty old reaper burns.
Can you imagine?
The game warden came by my tent.
She was saucy and filled with spice gleam.
I took her on a journey, on those musty bags, and skoobulated her boovula with my SKIRG-rod. She quivered as her large BOOBS shivered. It was SATURDAY NIGHT style lovemaking on a Tuesday in Scompton.
People don’t know how to hunt the bear-butt french-fried monkey-bat, and it shows. They go to the woods with their sawed off shot guns and their .454 CASULLS, all to shoot gin-geese and nugget-chickens. But for monkey-bat? – you need some kind of .700 nitro express, exploding.
I could take you on a hunting trip. We will hike 34 miles past the forbidden zone on Hanford Reservation, where the leaks are spawning new kinds of clawed beasts that hunker down in the shadows and exude fumes and monkey herpes and rabies style urine piles. We would camp near the old abandoned reactor, there we will keep warm from the radioactive decay in the cooling tanks. When we return? – our women folk will be AWESTRUCK by our glowing melt spears and she’ll put on the Brittany Spears … IYKYK.
I HAVE ORAL HEALTH PROBLEMS, my mouth smells like ass.
I am your lost Eskimo Brother …
Stop hoping for the dopey ending, Mickey Mouse ran white-slaves for the CARTELS and WALT DISNEY perv’d his way to the top …
I was THERE FOR YOU in the time of BEAST MASTER LOVE MAKING and your former priest lifestyle brand was rejected by the EAST SIDE GANGS and locked in love tentacle boulder type boovula paradise.
When I was a little boy my dad talked about the tubes …
It seemed as if everything “went down the tubes”, including loved ones …
Grandpa died?
Grandma?
All went down the tubes.
Where’d the tubes go?
That’s a question you ask if you want to get tossed down the tubes.
The weird glowing alligators are back …
Nobody wants to talk about it, but it’s a mess. The JUDGE issued orders to all local hunters:
“GO OUT THERE YOU FOOLS … GRAB YOUR CAT AND YOUR SCOOTER, GO TO HOOTERS FOR THE BLOOMING ONION AND THE CATTLE MUSK. LOAD UP YOUR 77-06’s with BRISKET BEADS AND KELP GLAZE. HUNT DOWN THOSE WEIRD BLACK HAIRY ALLIGATORS THAT LIVE UNDER THE OLD ABANDONED MILL. LEAVE YOUR WIFE AND KIDS BEHIND WITH JODY.”
With that, the flare was fired and the night sky lit up with the torches and RED ROCKET party monger surprises. We broke out the PLUVICTO MEDS and gave each other reach-a-round injections into the nutt sack.
The fishermen were taken ABACK after JUDGE ZLORN declared the “black and hairy alligator” enemy NUMBER ONE. The cutters were dumping the diesel gravy into the streams, and MAYOR LOOG took pictures for the paper. Nothing dissuaded me from monitoring the cum-droppings in the local slough and then sending data back to COLUMBIA RECORDS music club.
That was my hunting trip.
Wisconsin monkey salad …
Wisconsin monkey salad …
Wisconsin monkey salad …
(on sale)
