MP3: https://planetarystatusreport.com/mp3/20251108_FORREST_GUMP_WAS_A_LIE.mp3
Donate: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/doctorfreckles
You have the stagnant puddle flower gleam. You get this from standing too close to the seam, to those barnacle hookers from GRAND STAND libido-ville; with tender thighs and mind carpet mastery. You were conceived before the HEGDON PRIESTS and made the first watcher, cast aside by time and left alone with the ORANGE TORPEDO WARRIOR ETHOS.
Forrest Gump left you empty neo-con promises of deconstructed RAMBO revenge fantasies. NOTHING will clean the rivers of S.E. ASIA, and those waters will spawn cancer and birth defects and autoimmune for 10,000 years. We will be gone by then, and the waters will still be foul and cursed by time. That’s what FORREST GUMP gave you: a herpes infested bowel-side nightmare future where giant lamprey rats chase your grand children down the alleyways of fate.
I am sorry you have herpes. I really am.
I am sorry that PAPA BLUMP deceived you, I am sorry, I just am so very fucking sorry.
I am sorry you listen to fools because you think surface==structure and ergo you will buy the NEW ZEALAND STYLE BULL TESTICLE BEE POLLEN SAUCE for $400 a bottle; you know you’re gonna do it, and I am fucking sorry about it.
No dick can be too big (cue TWILIGHT ZONE MUSIC), but they can be too small. Your dick might be small, my dick might also be small. Get over it. Women are the THIRST MERMANS that hang your balls below the mast of BOOVULA MAGIC and stake claim to your shit … and your monies … and your time, oh precious time. DAMN WOMEN FOR STEALING TIME, and dearly so sorry for this calamity too …. too … too muchacho.
Your last midnight cowboy hookup left you the FREIGHT WEIGHT of a slower gait and some weird blue pus coming from a place of special memories, and hot sideways action. Your own moms don’t recognize you, as you scuttle down WALMART looking for HALF OFF CORN SYRUP MEAT CUBES and other carbohydrate rich poison salve for the wounds of the HEART and Derrida’s PHARMAKON be damned to the hell of effete bowman tiring of arrow scan hallucinated Parisian style dancing walnut hookers. I’m sorry about all of this as well.
THE MARKETS WILL CLEAR when there is no longer beer, or meat, or bread, or deer. The sky turns dark from SKY HAWK SHAMAN MAJESTY and the gray smeared out cloud mass they call weather.
Chomp on your gumbit meat when the time comes, and take your hewn mashing bowl with you as you lose your teeth. Mash out cold roach paste with barely cooked rice, mash out the pasta poog surprise jerkey and get yourself a turpin-wife. You will be sorry, I too will feel a great ennui. RUN FORREST RUN, all the way to the sun, making way for GRAPE SHOT missile strikes and the sad farewell of Venezuelan fishwives and their brood living in squalor over oceans of oil. They too shall reap the whirlwind of PAPA BLUMP’S kindness. I am not sorry sorry, because you all MAGA folk should have figured this out in 2020.
“Papa Blump couldn’t do nothing”, back in 2020 … yeah … you live/die/stale with that.
I sell SEAFLOW TYPE BODY VITAMIN NUTRIENTS. You can make homespun ice suppositories, and insert these into your anus to stay cooler during the Summer months. Your CUNT WIZARDRY will do NOTHING in the path of those hairy lesbian Karren-hodlers who no longer concern themselves with body odor or breeding. Chisel out the whistle gantries for them, and let the funken-folk spin in the winds of late Autumn, as Winter approaches to fuck you up.
My vitamin mixtures are nearly 100% fool proof. You can take them before you ungunjoolate your womens and they will have 6 or 7 orgasms … and you will find peace in this …
YOU CANNOT ESCAPE MY PRIME TIME PRE-BLACK-BOOTY-FRIDAY-STYLE-COMMERCE-ATHON! I demand your attention because FUCK YOU.
Did you know that our spider egg gels and powders and ointments have been known by the ancients as the ultimate means of DEEP THROMBOUS LIVING? YOU WANT TO HAVE BEEF EATER GIN style sex with your lady, but you notice the blemish on the flesh and it’s a no go at ho-down Betty’s. It could be worse, but at SEAFLOW CORPORATION? – we’re so fucking sorry about Forrest Gump.
YOUR NUT WILL BURST and become the worst threat at the night clubs. Women will sense your skeevy energy and transform themselves into the wench-matrons of old. No longer will your sadness beacon scream “EAST GERMAN PISS HANDLER”, but rather the lather of a milky white unguent lurks below, if you can tap into BOBLIMPTOCK WISDOM.
So get out there GUMP-TON FREAKS, and leave your hunger hangover leftover burdens aside. You can’t HIDE from your STAR MISTRESS, and she’ll find you …
She’ll find you …
At the ARCO STATION, where they sell Indian food.
Ill Wind: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=23768
Sam I am: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=23764
