MP3: https://planetarystatusreport.com/mp3/20221101_TRIGGER_ALERT.mp3
Donate: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/doctorfreckles
I buried Paul …
Link: https://www.zerohedge.com/markets/nancy-pelosis-husband-violently-assaulted-sf-home-invasion
Paul was with Yuli, his personal seal trainer …
They were playing “banksy”, as they shoved newspaper up each other’s butts and then lit the stuff on fire …
They had a third unidentified guy, eating chili in the corner, who would get up periodically and fart and pee on them …
And it just went sideways.
Paul and his twink may have been doing “MC HAMMER” or “hammer time” …
Take the handle of the hammer and shove it up the twink’s butt, you then give him oral highway or British tiramisu … all of which can lead to head injury, especially if you’re doing it MEXICAN STYLE …
His sexual partner pushed it too far …
Paul and his lover Levi Ballz were playing “village people” …
Paul was dressed as a NAVY admiral, Levi was the “carpenter” …
And it just got crazy …
it’s known as “making french fries” in the gay community …
sometimes “steak fries” … or playing “sweet potato”
Interestingly enough: when you play “sweet potato” in LA, you usually use zucchini …
… he and his sex-slave were doing poppers, and using penile-digglers and rasp-wazzles …. and shoving potatoes up each other’s butts … stuff got out of control.
And NANCY … ?????
He married her BECAUSE she’s a nasty drunk …
He can have his SIDE SHOW, and things got messy …
He ordered off the local menu, Nancy caught them, and she flew into an alcoholic rage …
This will get buried, some black-mexican will be blamed.
But the real story man …
Depape and PAUL were playing “two bag boys for Miss Gibonsy …”
It’s a dangerous game involving WD-40 and PVC tubing and large charge capacitors that you charge up and then insert into your yurgen-tunnel. And one of the dudes dresses like a bird and poops on your head … and then you kum in some biscuit sauce and get wasted off crack cocaine …
And surprisingly … something went wrong.
The “SISTEEEN CHAPEL” is a common trope in Castro, SF. You pay some poor dude money and crack and you buy him a tunic … you hand him some kind of carpenter hammer and say “now, build upon this rock” … as you arch your back, the young greaser twink inserts a volcanic stone into your sphincter, and then begins bashing it in with his hammer …
And maybe … this was too much …
“october surprise” is also very popular in San Fran …
You start with a “denver omelette”, that’s great but you need about 3 pounds of metal shavings mixed with wood chips and diesel fuel …
After you’re done massaging the junctus … you relieve pressure for the man-wand …
And something terrible occurred …
And if they were making a “denver omelette”, then something was haywire …
BTW: I believe the “brain surgery” is Smolett style sympathy-mining …
It’s kind of tragic, because PAUL was probably wanting play “Sister Mary”, while Depape was in the mood for “Old Man and the Pee” …
SOME DUDE ON ZH:
Ok let me get this story straight: the “intruder” breaks into the house, finds Paul in his underwear, the intruder slips off his clothing, the cops show up, the intruder rips a hammer out of Paul’s hands and then beats him with it in front of cops. Nice story.
Yes – every real life porn film starts that way
Me?
I think they were playing “Dirty Hairy”, and Depape, who was supposed to be the bungo-freak, brought too much nitrous … they probably overloaded and then Paul shot his load into the fondue set, and that’s when things got rough …
It’s possible they were playing “Mormon night out”, and the third guy didn’t show up or showed up late. They were in a kind of special love-nest-rope-trap, and it got bad …
The Mormon showed up and started pouring chocolate sauce all over the place … and this was the TRIGGER.
They were playing “Shelly Long”, and Nancy’s gape got filled with popcorn butter but the electrical outlet was way too close to the reverberating-anal-spreader … it was bad.
I think Paul was hoping for the “Tennessee Cowboy”, but instead he ended up with the “old fashioned Kentucky ass kicking” …
That’s $2,000/hour …
They used to call it the “San Francisco Treat”, but it’s where the top and his twink tie telephone wire around their glinctus, while they’re wearing adult diapers and tossing lumps of rotten horse meat at each other. This is done in preparation for the coup de grace of playing anal sculptor and then lighting off fire crackers in each other’s dinctus holes.
Of course they could have been playing “Queen of England”. This is dangerous, and does involve hammers and hatchets and lumps of coal. You have to have a keen eye for detail, because the rope play is intricate and if you pull on the wrong knot you can cause bodily harm.
Some freaks in SF think the old queen was playing “hot and moist”, while Depape was likely the “old squire boy from the village” and Paul was the brown dragon.
Sometimes things get messy … and a gay couple will try something really dangerous … like “the chunnel”. Sure, it seems exciting, but there are so many risks and so much KY jelly is used up in the process. “The Chunnel” is often followed up with “Al Pacino’s Secret” and then some kind of lazy reach around …
The “jungle book” is when things get really bad. Usually the twink brings the ants, hamsters, and other birds. These animals are coerced into entering the elder gay man’s mangina which is being held open by some surgical spreaders …
The hammer is typically used when playing “Ken Doll’s Surprise”, but I think Depape was wanting to play “lazy lumberjack” and Paul was confused.
I heard about this couple from Boy’s Town in Chicago that used to play “hide the penny”, but you need pliers for this … and maybe motor oil … but you would never use a hammer, would you?
People are asking what Nancy was up to …
But I heard Paul and Depape were on the “swing sets” and Nancy was on the “lazy susan”. They might have been doing “Cougar’s Revenge” when Depape failed to remove the shlig-pipe from Nancy’s nungis-hole. Nancy began convulsing, and that’s when the hammer slipped and hurled towards Paul’s anus-wax covered head.
This is probably what happened …
Paul was at the Blue Oyster tavern, drinking alone. Nancy was out with her friends, buying ice cream and anal swabs. Paul was at the bar, waiting for that special somebody.
Depape shows up and Paul can’t get stop looking at his package.
“Want to come back to my place?”, Paul asked.
Depape nodded, and they headed to the Uber …
Back at Paul’s, they began by playing “My Dear Uncle Jibbly”, but this quickly became a variant of “London Bridge” mixed with “Gin Rummy”. After about 45 minutes, Paul and Depape did a couple lines of coke and then got into the tool boxes in the garage.
Paul proposed the game of “find the robin’s hatch”, but Depape wanted to play “This Old House”, and that’s when things took a turn …. and stuff got real.
I think Paul wanted to play a game called “George Clooney”, and Depape was supposed to dress up like a woman and pull his C0CK back between his legs. Things got clinched up nearing the climax, and Paul grabbed the brazing torch while Depape took the crab leg crusher and smacked Paul across the face.
All of this happened so fast …
… Depape was going to dress up like “Patricia Anne Swallows”, and Paul was going to play “Lord Reardon”.
They stopped at Bartel’s to buy scotch tape and krazy glue and clam chowder.
After about 45 minutes of “Tim has the twitches”, Depape wanted to be on top and Paul said no. Depape saw a crab-shuck hammer on the floor next to Nancy’s heroin kit, and he just went for it …
Lifetime Movie coming out in 2023 …
“Secret Carpenter: the Paul Pelosi story”
It will be poignant and daring and magical … like some sleazy version of Brokeback Mountain …
(sleazier I mean)
There’s a good chance Paul was playing the “Island of Dr. Moreau” and Depape had dressed up like a crab, but then Paul set fire to the fondue set and spilled chocolate sex grease all over the french bulldog …
1 in every 3 accidents with a tool or appliance involves a gay sex act gone awry …
It used to be you couldn’t talk about gay sex …
It was secret MAN LOVE involving electrical wiring and broken glass and black nylon ropes and chuzzle-grease …
And you wouldn’t DARE ASK what two men in underwear were doing and why …
THEY WOULD INSKUZZLELATE THEMSELVES at every bathhouse, selling tinglies to the twink-lords and remembering the old times when all they had were the sewers and the rest areas and bowling alleys …
These lost dark loves, so fragile in the moonlight, trembling with fear as you insert the handle of the hammer into the goop-hole.
And this is love.
“circular saw”
“utility belt”
“dremel”
“sanding”
These all have different meanings in the gay man community …
“midnight basketball” also means something different in the gay-man community …
Paul wanted a cool-time Charley, but what he got was a wired twink looking for some dangerous action … Paul bought joob-oil and crisco and a frumbly-wand …
But Depape was wanting something darker …
They began, as Paul always did, with the “General’s Firing Squad”, but this quickly devolved into “Sarah’s Bunt Cake” and went further …
This was inevitable.
I think Paul believed they were playing “Ann Margaret’s Debut”, but Depape was really playing “BILLY the Skid”.
Paul went into that place looking for something dangerous …
He’d been trolling Castro for a while, but he ended up near Haight/Ashbury with a broomstick handle shoved up his a-zone and a hangover from drinking ever clear with the mayor …
A young lad, covered in street grease, came up to him … “hey man, you wanna party …”
Paul took him home … but first they had to stop at Home Depot …
They bought plastic tubing and drop cloth and fire extinguishers and roofing hammers …
They bought jimbo-style cook grease and one of those plastic swimming pools for dogs …
Neither one understood how crazy this would get …
Paul thought he was playing “The King’s Knight”, but Depape was playing “Texas Oil Strike” …
And there will be blood.
Fun fact:
All Home Depot stores in the San Francisco area are required by STATUTE to have pamphlets and handouts on how to safely use gardening equipment in gay style man sex.
“garden weasel” …
In San Fran, this means something different …
Paul thought they were going to play a game called “The Graduate”, but Depape was “Good Will Hunting” and had all the maple syrup and rock salt …
The bottom or “twink” in this case would run maple syrup and rock salt on their splingus …
The TOP or ELITE SIM would tie rubber bands on his balls and shove three turnips up his yincter …
They would break dance and toss chocolate scrunge at each other …
They would laugh and kiss and feel the embrace of their disgrace …
Eventually, Depape would say … “can you shove THAT up my butt?”
And Paul said “the hammer”, which end?
In the time of gleemptus, Paul rode a hawk.
Paul said to Depape, “will you be my sparrow-prince?”
And Depape said to Paul, “only if you’ll be my queer-dear and we can live all special like in the clouds far away from the evil witch …”
Paul looked around the room …
He saw the marks of his evil wife, and her scribble-oils …
He could no longer look into her fetid gape …
But what to do, how do gay men in San Fran escape from such as Nancy?
What if this was a REALLY convoluted and coke fueled gay escape plan?
I mean: those old queens … it’s all 007 and shit with them … going to the park late at night …
So maybe in their coke fiend states they thought “shit, what if we get into some gay man mash up and embarrass the F out of Nancy … she’ll have to set us free to have gay man sex in Barbados …”
Just a slight variation on a theme …
GAY ESCAPE PLAN – the common “heroes journey” for most queers.
Gay men dream of GAY MAN ISLAND …
A place they can go to and have gay-man style sex, with no limits …
This is where they were trying to go …
(the hammer was their pink slipper)
These types of gay hookups gone bad are often referred to as “A night at the Roxbury” …
Usually, the top instigates by using too much windex on the twinks tool box, but then the chimpanzee is let outside and the kangaroo coke is over and done with …
There’s a lot of whiskey and farting and object insertion …
Pledges of love and regret …
As the last whiskey bottle is inserted into the buntis pipe …
And the dogs scream in the night.
We now know they were probably playing a game called “two apples for Miss America” …
They got tired and the amal nitrate poppers were running low …
Nancy injected KROKODIL into Paul’s vein, and Depape was in the corner, playing the role of “Little Bimbo” …
But the cables got all screwed up and they ended up doing a “Borgnine” instead of a “McQueen” …
And then Depape grabbed the hammer and that was it.
Nancy let him in, as she always did. She wore a vorg-suit made of tin and anguish …
She led the poor sap up to the master bedroom, where Paul, spread eagle, had his “unit” inserted into ROOMBA and was playing the game “Terminator” … or … maybe it was the “Forbin Project” …
Depape, stripped down and Nancy doused him in gumble-grease and ointment pus and then tied him up and tossed him on the bed with Paul …
After Nancy finished off a case of wine, she began burning them with a cigarette …
It got bad, real bad ….
She placed DePape’s rod in a metal clasp and tied this to a french bulldog nearby …
And Depape broke …
He picked up the silver hammer for shucking King Crab, mashed up Paul and went running for the door …
(and the cops were waiting, already paid off with hookers and get-out-of-jail rape cards)
Food …
“Food was NEVER supposed to be cheap.” – Dr. Freckles
(that thing about inferior goods)
The State Withering Away …
“The Marxists talk talk talk about the state withering away, but the anarchists KNOW HOW we get there.” – Dr. Freckles
Alienation …
“The real alienation was never from the means of production. The real alienation was from nature, by steps, by slices, until we became untetherered, separate from any healthy ecology.” – Dr. Freckles
From here …
“I wish I had a t-shirt that said ‘FROM HERE: IT GETS WORSE’.” – Dr. Freckles
Thanks-Christmas …
Link: https://www.zerohedge.com/personal-finance/thanksgiving-dinner-will-cost-lot-more-year
By the year 2027 …
People will eat “bologna surprise” for Thanks-Christmas … yeah, they merge the holiday into Thanks-Christmas … the two holidays were too expensive. They will add in BLACK FRIDAY and call it “BUY MONGO SHIT DAY … and maybe beat up some folks …” … It will be AWESOME.
And you eat a mongo-feast of gumbo-grease and other holy offerings. You find old dead cats and you hang them from the gambrels … and the old harlot demons sing songs of SMART TVs and CD-ROM chargers and cancer-cubes flavored with bacon and dingus …
On THANKS-CHRISTMAS DAY, following BUY MONGO SHIT? – Jolly-Jorgles the Clown goes around … delivering gifts … and sometimes having sex with your mom. He fucks your mom … he doesn’t care if she’s dead.
By the year 2029 …
The 8 scroblin clans of region-3 will form a Traagen-Army …
The TURKEY will be used as QUAG-FUEL for the brogglen-tanks and to feed the kepler-wolves.
Black Friday was replaced with Red Thursday … a time of burning and yearning.
Radioactivity will be everywhere …
(even in your crotch …)
By the year 2030 …
You will get a letter from an old friend about a metal tube and an alien race. You will be invited to an “old fashioned” Thanksgiving in New England, at some abandoned farm where a bunch of hookers were murdered during the Great Depression.
When you arrive, your friend cannot be found – there is simply a metal cylinder sitting on a kitchen table next to an intercom with a note next to it … “PRESS TO TALK” …
You press the button and speak, “hey man, where you at?” …
Out of the tinny speaker comes a crackling voice … “yo bud, my brain has been put into this old whiskey can by them there aliens called the FUNGI people … they are really nice, from Pluto, and want to put you and your family in Folgers cans ….”
And this is not the worst Thanksgiving that year, believe you me …
By the year 2035 ….
We will celebrate THANK-YOU-TUMORS day … a special day when you take a razor and cut the tumors and lesions from your body … you mix them into an iron pot or dutch oven … you add whatever stringoh-sauce or jergis-salt or other spice you can buy from the witch that lives in the old abandoned reactor.
You make a kind of burrito out of fiberglass and metal shavings, and you jam that infernal thing with as much of the special STEW defined above … and you shove that JOY-TACO into your shriveled and pain ridden mouth, covered in sores and open wounds and dripping with pus that you then use as a salsa …
TUMORs will be seen as gifts from the great fireball, the liberator, the POXY-CLIPSE …
By the year 2050 …
It’s gonna get nice an cozy. We’ll all sit around that Thanksgiving drinking pumpkin spice coffee and shoving potatoes up our butts. We’ll make meat soup and have troglan-parties. People will smile and slap each other and play grab ass … they’ll bleed into their urine.
HARVEST TIME will be the beginning the season, when the freaks and nerds and greasers and geeks form various unholy gangs of street fighters. They go out to gather up the street protein and the farmland boob milk. Women will make human cheese and sell these cheese sandwiches … and they’ll drink more pumpkin spice coffee.
Prayers …
“Sometimes the Lord answers prayers, sometimes he’s just there to listen.” – Dr. Freckles