10/11 - totally going to make all of this coherent later. I swear on your life. Inshallah.
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Hey it's an improvement on "talking in tongues". Not in terms of comedy but then comedy isn't hilarious when it's too creepy to be funny.
Now she signs. No one laughs. But I run away screaming. My baby sister small talked me, two Xmas's ago. Maybe that isn't as horrifying as it truly is.
5 years ago, you couldn't have poisoned our relationship if you were the most corrupted person alive. This is how idiotically confident I was, in the tenuous nature of sanity. We're not in trouble over something my incoherent rambling could fix, if it was coherent. But then DELL and - well - almost every power bar the Vatican, has proactively suggested otherwise. It all might be a brilliant level. To get me off the scent of lizards, or something. Who knows, with genius.
Not really that smart though, are they? I don't think so. They're not really happy, in my logical opinion. Logic suggests happy people wouldn't find fulfillment in creating confusion. Logic suggests, something very different is swirling around their emotional root-kit infested cores.
You couldn't have corrupted us, I'd have laughed at the suggestion. My sister and I were tight. We'd have laughed you off. She was so bright, and pure and keen to learn and think; we would just laugh at silliness of the world, and then have 20 min debates about important things like whether orange poppers were better than apple. And then she'd always laugh to make sure I knew she was joking. And amazingly, it was appropriate somehow. Her ability to do irony would alarm me for a fraction of a second and I'd think "oh no she thinks I'm serious omg" and then I'd see the smile saying "chill you worry too much". And I did, really. Couldn't have worried enough, in the end. Don't think anything can compete with a corrupted biological link. That link saves the species from corruption. But if mothers are unable to protect their young? If mothers corrupt their young and leave them exploitable instead of emotionally stable? How about we change the logic to illogical and have some fun? I can see the geniuses chatting about it now. It's literally something I'd hypothesise about. I'm doing it now, aren't I. They're not going to be happy about it, if I'm hypothesising correctly. If I'm wrong, rest assured. I'll be a crackpot for decades.
She'll ask you why you feel bad and then be too dumb to understand the answer which isn't complex. Maybe you're about to die, and you've given her more evidence of it in embarrassment at your 'failing' to deliver your normal financial assistance to your siblings as efficiently or as "on time" as in the past. A week late. A fortnight late. Embarrassed, unable to get online but that's only the honest reason. Morons think "but you can get to an internet cafe" without understanding I can come up with a better fake excuse if I wanted to ? So maybe stop fucking insulting me when I tell the truth. Yes, I could. But the reason I didn't is because I forgot. Not because there is no internet cafes in Bangkok. And the reason I forgot is because I cannot get online. Motherfuckers. Whoa man, I didn't ask for War and Peace.
I know. You just wanted me to Lie to You. It's why I'm being killed. I got very smart, very quickly. And scared a lot of confused people into wondering whether I was JFK until they laughed and saw I was too stupid to empty a recycle bin. say "You are using Law, at Nuremberg to convict people of crimes because they respected the Law. And you talk about legal paradoxes and shit like you're confused about what message is being sent. Ironically, it's an honest one. A bit like a slap-hand to your face from a whore in denial and outraged you would shame her with a questions hse'd rather you didn't ask. That's almost always the reason why you should ask, anything. IT makes her feel creepy. She lashes out, when non-creeps make her feel creepy.
Every non-creep knows that. And they'll sleep alone. Or they will become dark and creepy. Where they will stay, unless they're anything like me - and it's funny, how many people are just like me. But impossibly less willing to openly discuss their shame. I'm not ashamed by it. I am worried about their creepy shame, though. Preventing them from thinking their way through what they're in denial about feeling their way through, instead. I know shame. Shame kills. Embarrassment is a precautionary emotion working for your benefit. Shame is the corrupted inserted root-kit. Root shame out. Try not to kill your mother in the process.
That's a joke. They're too vile to die from your emotional reversed games. I was too smart to believe that for so long. What happened. Oh that's right. I was terrified of my intelligence. lolz. Next.
What a curious world. I'm sure I'm the only one, as well. What a curious world that makes little bright kids ashamed, of being little and bright and not - remotely - creepy at all. They will become creeps and quickly. Or they'll make so many vile future mothers shriek they might be concerning enough for some electric caring. God I love society.
It's the easiest shit in the world to get rid of. When you undertand everything, you feel zero shame. Only confusion is shameful. IOnly confused people can even - feel - shame. eople get that shit instantly. That's bullshit is what it is. Fucked up shit where people were making shit up as they went along, made some rules, then - as Lil Wayne reminded me of when I last thought about it 15 years ago, simply ADDED a new bar on top of the pinnacle. It's sloppy, filthy, and unacceptable bullshit that isn't remotely as unintentional or as ad-hoc as it seems spotted the obvious culprit, hardly his fault for loving his daughter too much right? Right , so much thinking on the fly and I started to pick up on who the good players were, who were in power and doomed, if there was a betting line with the volume capable of supporting a line of credit I had to the tune of a million or so, I'd have won very close to the rustling, of the meaningless static, . Who I don't think I'd ever heard of but only he would know if we'd met. I don't remember him, but I was wearing a $140 Shem shirt one day when I was briefly toying with fashion (such a drag really, because it's never solved, there are no answers; it's just endless...working, and showing your working, to be passed or failed or both, simultaneously - it's retarded; but I don't think Shem was, because his shirts were pretty cool. But mostly, because if he didn't price them at insanity, fashionable people like me wouldn't have ever dreamed of wearing them. I knew this, and I respected the play long before I tired of the endless self-extortion.
My whore mother, who once complained when I made a point of calling her Linda instead of mother, when I was bemused at myself because I literally couldn't care enough about whether she lives or dies to even make the point - you follow? I was busy running game on her, I think; that's always the reason whenever I do something that surprises me but this one really shocked me. Cause I was acting like I cared, and being Avril and calling her Linda when the truth is I hold zero emotion because she died when I was 5? So like 25 years ago. I literally don't know this weirdo who's senile and thinks she's my Mother, but then she is - or I lied to myself because I had no options and wanted to believe that she was - doing an okay job (with my cash, of course - but this was also a lie because I knew what kids need and it's not money; I mean, it's ideal if you don't give the fortunes of cash the governments and charities throw at slaves in chains, but if you think that cash would be thrown if the slaves didn't buy poison with it, and built schools with it, bought books - from libraries they didn't own, and publishing houses they didn't dictate to - you'd be a moron.
11/11. I swear to god if I don't make all this coherent prose, you will be forced to be sacrificed for my failure / inability. Here's to a surprise abscense of apathy and a refreshing return of good old ability.
You maybe have a 5% chance of living here. But then stop blubbering. You weren't really - living - before, were you? Huh. Answer me, BOY. I'll answer for you, more accurately.
You weren't.
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Children don't - need - money. They need Maslow, but that costs next to nothing for parents who are sane. When insane, all the money in the world couldn't get you Maslow. Because some creep will just stand in the middle and take it all away. If for no other reason than to generate the guilt, that generates the pain, that generates the doubt in the faith they know they have to have during trials and testing troubles and tribulations like these - they recognise them when they see them, trust me - hungry children are fucking noisy.
Hungry, powerful children; so cold and get disturbingly silence and indignant. And you would be advised to be frightened of it. It frightens me, often. Makes people think I've gone insane but I'm not entirely sure about decency, and dignity. I know what you think they mean, but I'm unsure on their definitions. Trust me, you couldn't be more wrong. This doesn't mean the corollary is right. I know what decency is not; and that is what I've been my entire life, in my dealings with Evils and Creeps. I don't think I can be faulted, but then if you are comfortable with losing like that, you'll never win a thing. I've lost, and badly, impossibly surprisingly - but then my denial has been running it's loose lips without my cracking down on it, for 4-5 years of horror now. I saved my little brothers and sisters lives.
I mean, I thought I had. I really did that shit, or believed it. I was being a moron, and didn't want to face the truth. I was never going to be decent enough to kill the objects of their affection, even if I knew their parents would kill them. And I convinced myself that was the truth if they stayed in the cult, but then I lied to myself there with a cheeky little trick of implied logical assertion, which is always going to be a fail. Logic is brutal. Which is beautiful. You cannot trick logic, or game it. It has no hidden agenda, no complexity. No offence, or feigned offence, or anything but ridicule for the ridiculous idea of cultural insensitivity. Be sensitive to the fact that insane people think you could have a motive to hurt them. Don't make people think that, because whether they're sane or not will be tested by whether or not they strike first, in self-defence. You character assassinate psychopaths, and make them - arguably - dangerous by virtue of your vile inability to correctly appreciate their position as one of humanity's last genuine hopes to drag us out of this ludicrous emotional mess of corruption and idiocy and mean words, and long words, and confronting walls of words for guys who spend entire days reading but then only in helpful bite-sized blocks.
Do you need your Mommy to cut up my run-on sentences for you? She can't read, buddy. Why do you think she never reads? To confuse you? She's confused, about everything. Because why would a Princess, not to mention the most beautiful one in the world, ever need to learn how to read - when they can just do what they're good at, and be cute?
It's tragic when they're actually cute.
When they're...something other than that, there is horror and then there is the horror of watching horrified smirks on the faces of vile, but very pretty and elitist retail staff (the irony, of them being elitist - is somehow pure amazing or something, it gets me every time) rapidly transform from their default coping mechanism to something much like the non-default horror on my face, initially at their smirks and then we were all left powerless to do or say anything but be horrified at power, as she giggled with her Mother - so sweet, this Mother - lying to her for 17 years, it was her big night, what she'd clearly been convinced she was being kept "wrapped up" for, and she wanted to let it all out.
Sex. Her sex appeal. This is a young proud, virginal and pure sexual tiger. Who weighed so much, I literally am afraid of making a guess for reasons of being thought to be exaggerating; when you just couldn't. You couldn't. She'd be dead if she was any heavier. That's what I told my mate when I said I thought she must weigh...what she probably weighed at the time. She was 17, but I thought she was 35 or older when I first saw her. And everyone saw her. She might not see you, you'd wanna see her coming, if you were a small child or girl or woman or boy. She might roll over the top of you and steam up in tears at never knowing how much she didn't want that piece of cake she was crying for, when she'd just killed an innocent, slowly. Mangled body distributed out behind her, or lost - one assumes, eternally - in various rolls, which had rolls of their own, and more rolls. An entire colony of ants, could lose their way in her rolls and die - somewhat ironically - so close to Utopia or Mecca, but lost in the moving maze.
Which couldn't move very often, and when it did - as it clearly did today because we were standing inside a store which wasn't in her bedroom (where she would have eaten, 100%); she was fading fast. I knew what she needed, her idiotic mother seemed to think it was the sun on an overcast, chilly day. Well, she might have been partly right, but then everyone was right - or would be, wouldn't they? She was dying. I was the only one who knew what she needed and I swear to God the hero in me or the horror but then pretty sure that's the same thing, almost delivered it to her. Merciful death, if she took it badly. Not sure how she could take her Reality, well. But that's no reason to pout when your Mother rejects the 'revealing' dress she couldn't try on of course so she was admiring these size 8 dresses cut to tease, on her size ?? earthquake body, which will need to be cut into pieces to bury. When she dies. And this is what we're talking about here. Parents killing their children with their idiocy.
It's not nice to save their lives. Which wouldn't be in danger were it not for the horror-show excuses they have for parents. I am a creep, and I said nothing in the end. I knew it was probably against the Law, on some level - to fuck with another person's property. She'd have died, I'd be up for manslaughter. And those perfectly horrid little rakes I no longer wanted to fuck because no one looks pretty when they're too horrified to speak. And maybe, too horrified to breathe? I was hopeful, but then that's the quickest way to disappointment.
The longest way? Tell your daughter boys will go crazy and you're putting your foot down on the "revealing". Accuse her of likely enjoying the commotion, making boys lose their minds; wouldn't she, her mother signed. Sex tigress daughter on her hands, trying to hold back the flood of Reality this girl clearly fantasised about. She smirked, she knew herself.
She would have, too. God she was incorrigible. Such a hussy! Nothing but a tease! She was blushing, at how naughty she would be capable of being. Thank heavens her Mother was there, or she might kill young boys with desire for her. Or horror. As long as she drives them crazy. Pretty sure this is what the insanity was all about. I couldn't take it anymore. I pitied the retail snobs, for being prisoners to that horror but then I'm not entirely certain they were capable of moving, anyway.
I was. I ran. I'm pretty good at that. Didn't think about that story for a year or two. Pretty 'good' at doing that, as well. You shouldn't do that. You could remember, and almost kill someone whilst driving. Not me. Two families killed is where I draw the line, in reality. And no one takes my indignation well. Or the first of the doubts, that she'll brush away but then doubts are like suggestive up-selling of Law. You can use them for Good and for Evil. Just make sure you don't get played, or play yourself.
I sowed the doubts in my parents when I squeezed them where it hurt and I remembered why I couldn't even manipulate them when I was a child, into saving me. I had made everyone - including them - terrified of me. I couldn't afford to take the risk. I'd seen them say exactly the same thing as the pedophiles said, before they didn't even know they were going to get a hard-on. I'd hear the warning, caring coming - not quite genuine yet, more routine when they say "this is going to hurt me more than it's going to hurt you" but then that's the warning sign that their insanity is especially dangerous. Insanity is unpredictable. It bubbles and spurts and I was never so stupid as to think it could be predictable; merely recognisable. When they said something like that, it was because they were more 'sane' than usual rage, which can be dangerous when it's the first explosion of horror which obfuscates the line between insanity and the edge of insanity. you don't want to go over, trust me. No one wants that, trust me. Only some very confused people think they want to create it. In order to create the children of the victims who will be their children and so on - always their children, the children of this world, and I'm talking about being owned by the Vatican. Created is probably a better word, because owned implies purchase and this world was not bought. it was lovingly paid, painstakingly built up, brick after brick. With love and delusion only possible in Vatican slaves who believed they would be happy once it was built. Ah, the irony.
Sometimes I wonder if it wasn't the creepiest villains alive who made the Vatican, Christianity, Buddhism and Islam (all religions, really; it's amazing girls even join them - ahhah, the only morons stupid enough to join a religion they're not born into are whores no one would fuck for free). I once understood the whore gypsy who believed she was my mother when she may not have even given birth to me; but regardless, was never my mother because my mother would be motherly. Not a whore, who killed everything she touches with her unspeakable vile and horror and insanity and arrogance in spite of it all, and at the core - at the core of all her filthy creepy and caring for public images of purity - is a desire to be beaten and spat upon and kicked like the filthy dog she is. Oh she doesn't realise this. But then she thought she was bad-mouthing my Nan, probably in much the way she creeped out my siblings from talking to me because the thing about Spam, is that it doesn't even need to make sense. Once it makes you feel, everything is corrupted. Everything is uncomfortable. Everything is creepy. My mother just needed to open her vile mouth about me to my siblings and game over; my faux victory was 'rudely' revealed to be the Reality I think I knew it always had to be, on some level. Because I was way too - quick - to 'celebrate' my Win. I'm always a lot more cautious when I win easily - and I win easily enough, when I've been brilliant enough, to analyse every angle for Optimality.
I'm not going to bullshit here so close to death and claim I achieved Optimality. I knew what Optimality was because I knew I loved my little siblings who were - alive - likely untouched but only by force of luck and a little bit (completely unintentionally, but welcomed whenever I'd notice it) my parents would get handled very badly by a frightened cult who were terrified at how miserably they were failing to handle me.
But Jesus cannot hold onto a W overnight. Jesus is a bitch, like that. When it comes to demonic possession.
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I wrote the finest posts I'd ever written here. The first one. And the one I just lost when the page refreshed for no reason. This is the third I rambled out quickly because I need to go do something and I went half hour over time. There are endless tangents I begin then just forget about until I edit, where tangents become tangentially fucked up. But I need to find my ability to write back. Because I can write. I think. Evidence to the polar opposite can be ignored. I'll concede it when it's valid. I'd point out creepy corruption and verify it when the bullshit affords me the capacity to be functional.
I'm sure it's all coincidence, of course. Just my internet browser. Firefox, if you must know. Chrome and Canary refuse to install. No reasons given, but lots of helpful information sent to Google. Who DO NO EVIL, except they sure do let a lot of EVIL happen to me - without feeling it even warrants a comment, or a helpful suggestion or a fucking response not written, activated and mailed - by automated scripts representing communication. As if I needed to be pre-insulted before insulted, for real?
Like, I'm logged in to my SSL Gmail account. And then I see I'm not actually jonny vincent. I'm this other person. And I think, through the horror, is there any point even going to the effort of getting screenshots of shit like this? Are they even worth the bother or will they idiotically think I'm trying to - convince - them of something, like Spam?
Time will tell. So far, I've taken a great deal of evidence of evidence. But none of you are impressed. It's funny, I wasn't trying to impress you. I thought I was being dumb or something, being noble in warning the morons who'd killed me with their apathy. Before I kicked the bucket.
Spoiler: They were too apathetic. To care one way or another. Hhaha. You can't make them care. Who do you think you are, their mother? You're not the boss of them.
Their mother urinated all over them. They know who's property they are. They don't care. They didn't ask you to care. hahah. LOL@YOU. They win.
They always win, those victims. In their victimisation. Rats.
(insert rest of Google DOING NOTHING, ABOUT EVIL here.)
I knew Suicide King was involved somehow. His real name is Othello.
Who is the one keeping JV aka scooter from going to the doctor and getting the correct medication.
Repeat. Forces are coming together preventing JV from the medical help he deserves. I would believe Suicide King would have something to do with this if he knew as much about computers as say...Sonatine does.
get real suicide king was last seen in a wheelchair(due to his gout) living vicariously through his son
in a few years the poor kid is gonna get tired of his dad forcing him to box and knock him the fuck out
The problem with the insanity defense is it presumes Free will exists.
Well yes I see your point now but then you could have made it more visible so that I could see it's visibility.
But if you don't have my capacity to say what I say in 100,000 characters effectively - if you're limited to asserting much the same thing (which, it seems only now that you might be surreptitiously doing something exactly like that - but then I understand how lilies wilt under the bright lights of my volume) - that doesn't mean you haven't done a perfectly acceptable job, all the same.
In communicating the same thing, in 1/1000th the excellence.
Is this indeed, what you were trying to do here? Could I safely substitute "asserts" or "suggests" or "implies"...for "presumes"?
You seem to have all the answers, but where are the questions. I skipped past your - all-too-brief - 'contribution', and couldn't have imagined it to be worth my reading. Is this your idea of communicating? Sounds an awful lot like transmitting, to me. I'm not a busy man, or a VIP; headlines aren't my thing. I'm a paper man, I sell newspapers.
How could you sell something like this above? Who would pay for it.
Belay that.
I just realised how they sold it, to humanity. Yes, much as I figured - you were wrong and I was right - about the value of volume. You couldn't print 4 billion copies of this, without it appearing to be the Obvious subversive propaganda it is. You see, if the Bible was as long as the above, no one would get Middle Men to read it for them. I'm but a product of my excellence, and upbringing, and I was raised by the world's finest creeps - who learned from the best.
I'm not trying to assert my superiority over you personally; merely clarifying that your style, whilst appearing at second glance, to be something like a fool's idea of wit - wouldn't make you very rich, at all.
You cannot sell Truth when it is succinct. How would you obfuscate the Lies, huh?
Linear Mode
