I vase-late-some-WHAR (Texas phonics), in between C4, and Plutonium enrichment research. Somewhere between. Totally suing you into a comma, and killing your entire species from the planet. But it comes and goes. I breathe deeply. I avoid people. I refuse things that do not comply with my agreement with REALITY, and I keep my comments about their success or failure rate generally to myself.

I don't have the time or the inclination to bless anyone with my presence at another goddamned rape farm of information mischaracterized as recovery of "diseases" under the mystics of Saturns attributes while pimping out VENUS with the COOKIES, and calling it a forever commitment. I am a realized soul. I am a complete being dead in your reality, or alive in your presence those are "worlds you assume to exists." Unfortunately, I haven't the financial cushion to engage in navel expeditions aboard the SS money cleaner, yet. But I count the minutes, Some one uses the life, I lived for their own fountain pen of creation. I am not a thief. I give away more than i care to make. and i contemplate the meaning of things I once gave time and consideration to during a different relational concern.

YOU might as well kill me. Since I want to kill you more than I want to be your last friend on a life raft in the middle of a swap during a deliverance rape scene. You reap. You sow. You know. I just put it all together, and say "Fuck you," but my thoughts are only the same as anyones who's mind's been robbed, and his thoughts used for profits for someone else, while his own children have not the slightest relationship with the only intelligent soul they are connected to on the planet. Which in a world of sell outs, and tea sips, whose "all hook and bench methods" have benched more than one professional before the Player ever was given an opportunity to practice during his "slavery sentence" at some institution of blow job education and "grab ass" on the backs of the poor, and the Mexicans who paid most of the Subsidized Bills for nothing but spoiled intellectual ASSHOLES, and wanna-be-Betty Page soccer moms whose last Vibrator probably ran on AA batteries with the RPM's of a fucking "happy meal buzzer toy" on Golden Grease Arch Pig day, or something.

I would rather die than be a perpetual case study for "ten-yeared-wizard-prick" who really is nothing more than "high fraud by LIEGEBRA" and other quasi-sexual mathematical equations of "total and complete nonsense." But when your putting together stacks of tongue and cheeky fluffy, and calling it Research, and hogging patents under SEP regulations at the same time, You are technically engaged in RICO crimes against the UNITED STATES of AMERICA, and those crimes are considered High CRIMES, and TREASON, which according to precedent was punishable by the well "firing squad" in Michigan, and I guess life without parole.

I wonder do they teach bullet proof vest training at the elementary school for the privileged over on that Street In RIVER oaks where I used to collect "part of a pay check." I didn't think I saw any little pirates walking in there with their vest on a few years ago.....

Oh well. Guess. The submarine goes down together anyway...

Can't protect, and serve them all I guess. Just have to get used to half mass flag days, and shitty customer service then won't we.....

Sometimes, I wonder.....