The Sack of Maracaibo

(Enthusiastic Falsetto) I could be a sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare...

-Hey man, knock, knock.

Hey man, don't be sneakin up on me while I'm twirlin my metaphysicals.

-You mean... cahoots?

Whaddaya want, dude?

-Some a the boys are talkin.

Right, what's bein said?

-Do you know the Second Principal of Hermeticism?

Fuck no, dude.

-I knew it!

Hold on... There's... Scheduling...

-Rhythm.

Right. Rhythm... Vibration... uh... Gender... Polarity! I bet Polarity's number two.

-Correspondence.

No shit? That's about bat scrotum being an energetic echo of Hera, or angry women in general, right? For potions and ceremonial magic?

-You're gonna disappoint alotta people.

Tell em to take a fuckin number.

-Correspondence is about your thoughts manifesting your reality. As above so below. It's really what you were tryina teach people. Not Mentalism. But it's also kinda about bat scrotum.

I think thoughts manifesting reality should be part of Mentalism. And bat scrotum should be like number 7. What's number seven?

-Gender.

No fuckin way! What's Polarity?

-Number four.

Yeah, they fucked that all up. Buried the lead. The fractal nature of the universe ain't nearly as handy as understanding polarity. Or gender.

-Maybe they weren't listing them according to usefulness.

Well that's fuckin obvious. We done here?

-Uh... no. So, some of em are still talkin Jesus.

I know, dude, it's fucking retarded. Who do I gotta butcher to disabuse cocksuckers a that notion?

-Well, dude, you're clearly usin the 'Royal We' a number a times.

You bet yer ass I am. That's like the first page in the book a warfare, Ace. If your enemy believes you are more powerful than you actually are, do nothing to dissuade him. Didn't you see ghostbusters?

-Ok, dude, that's not "doing nothing to dissuade." That is actively feigning a christian diety. That's like a HEAVY no no, right?

Yeah, so this is the position I took. I refer to my life as a ship. A lot. I use the metaphor of calming my emotions as "settling my crew." My crew and I all have to work together to get to where WE wanna go. My 'we' ain't royal. It's maritime. It's just a shame that, to you, it makes me look Jesusy. Not my fault.

I always pushed the mystery. I might be, I might not be. I don't know - and you don't know either, bitch. Think about the consequences and repercussions if one of us here is wrong. It's a myopic power play against fuckers who already know what's goin on. They know I ain't Jesus. But they want me to start believin it and tellin people that, so that I can be easily labeled and dismissed.

It was a false flag, dude. Pirates don't just sail around under the Roger, man. They sail around under a nice little frenchie or dutchman's logo. Then when ya get close enough to prey, the real colors come out and ya give em that last chance to surrender. Tactics, dude.

-So your big plan is to false flag as Jesus and then get in close where you can reveal that you're just another ordinary schmuck - and the impact of this revelation is gonna impress upon them all to surrender.

So hey, dude, it ain't a perfect one to one analogy. Honestly, I go into that maze all kindsa lovey, but I KNOW I'm in the belly a the goddam beast. I am grabbin at anything that might put a little distance between me and my possible threats. I figured a buncha slack jawed satanist pricks whisperin in the background "Oh shit! That's the guy! Is that the guy? That's the guy!" might be useful to me, strategically. "Look at the way he employs the Royal We. It just flows so naturally off his tongue, as if he's not even thought about it."

Oh he's thought about it, bitch. Cept none a that matters. Cocksuckers already read the last page a this story. THEY KNOW HOW IT ENDS AND THEY'RE STILL TRYINA FUCKIN FIGHT IT??? I don't know, brother... That just reeks a stupid.

-I don't think they're tryina fight it, dude.

Oh yeah? Is that how it feels from YOUR side a the fuckin table?

-No, dude, what if they're just tryina torture you for some last jollies before it all ends for em?

Roger jollies.

-You think they're all unsavable?

Fuck no. I hope not. Hate to think I wasted all that goddam effort. I had to've pulled a few of em, no?

-Like Enya?

Even fuckin Enya - on the day before the last full moon - hit me with a song I never knew existed. I Want Tomorrow. You have any idea how many a those chicks flooded my algorithm to get in on that last full moon? So I went with my one true love. Passio.

(Cont.)

(Cont.)

But here's the kicker... I owe Sarah big time. That woman met me on fair ground (Not fair at all, but PAR for this fuckin course) and took her shot at me. I think they call it the shit-test these days. When I either passed the test, or appeared too unreasonable to deal with, SHE SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GOT IN LINE. Never hounded me to get in on shit that wasn't hers. And then wound up arming me against my foes.

When I first heard "With a smile that won't wash away," I thought it was a small jab at me. I know my fuckin smile washes away all the time. Came off a little like a taunt. But then, a few weeks later, I find myself scowling a lot. Not pissy, just too goddam game-faced all the time. Facial muscles clenched and pumpin unnecessary stress hormones into my bloodstream. And all of a sudden I got Sarah in my head "with a smile that won't wash away."

Well, it's just good advice. So thanks, babe. It's comin to me naturally, useful for the situation at hand, and... there's somethin else to it, too. Motivation? Like maybe I wanna try to live up to Sarah's idealized version of me. Like, she wrote that fuckin beautiful song about me. I don't wanna let her down. It's not only good advice, but it carries onboard emotional fuel with it. It makes me wanna smile so that I feel worthy of Sarah's braggin on me so hard. Shit worked beautifully.

But it wasn't ultra needed at the time. I'm pretty James Bond about controlling my thoughts, so when I'm not bein nailed to a cross, I can maintain a pretty even keel. So the added smiles weren't hugely impactful mana from heaven, but welcome buoys. However, I'm on a hostile footing with these people, and I'm bein bread crumbed like a motherfucker, so I put Sarah outta my mind cause I got bigger issues right now.

Then, some big, mean indian tries to come along to push me down and steal my milk money. His weapon of choice is something like - You soft, well-fed, suburban white boy. I'm from the streets. Therefore I'm better, smarter, tougher, more worthy... whatever.

The only one that bugs me there is tougher. Like I know I'm better and smarter and more worthy than this dude. But he's got me on tougher. He's from the streets. He's suffered more and so he is 'tougher' than I. And it sticks in my fuckin craw, right? I wanna lay into this prick.

Then, outta nowhere, I got Sarah in my head again. Suicide poem.

And it's like "Hey, fuck yeah! Who's the motherfucker who walked into this fucking PRISON and called out the biggest, meanest prick on the yard? And then beat his ass down. Was that you, skinny jeaned indian boy? Oh no, that wasn't you. That was my soft, suburban white ass. I remember now. Thanks, Sarah.

Felt so superior to the dude, I didn't need to respond to him. And man, this dude dipped himself in lard and cannonballed into the shark tank. Oooooooh dude... He was suuuuch a perfect target... Like he was designed, stem to stern, to seduce me into annihilating him - and after Suicide Poem, he just became a joke to me. I couldn't vanquish him on one single point. But Sarah could. And did.

I didn't hafta fight the poor lad and sink to his level because Sarah armed me with one a the first things I forgot. Outta nowhere, right when I needed it.

So dude, all I can tell ya is you can only know an asshole by their fruit. I got assholes in that maze that have done me right. None of em have done me totally right - don't get me wrong. But if this was gonna unfold, some of em - it felt like when they were propped up to fuck me - actually mighta gone easy on me or even had my back. Some of em.

Look, man, influence magic is fucked. Distorts your reality without you realizin it. I ain't sayin anybody should be takin my view a the world seriously when I was purped out... But damn if I don't feel like some of em are laced up.

What's fucking HYSTERICAL to me is that it seems like these guys have been enduring their own personal hells this whole time. These giants of pop culture all forced to log how many thousands of man hours watching my fat, hairy ass play video games and have exceedingly mediocre sex for the last 30 years. Like I kinda feel really bad for em.

Then I start thinkin about the mind fuck it's gotta be for someone to essentially sell their soul for fame and fortune and then be forced to sit and study my boring ass for hours on end because I'm the REAL star, here. What a HELLISH existence for an ego junkie to have to endure. It's 8d chess, evil genius level fuckery! All the poor bastard wanted was to be the center of attention. And once he achieved his goal, the devil made him just another audience member in a multitude of audience members centered around my mindnumbingly boring ass.

What a mind fuck.

Hey, Luce, I think I needed to come this far for me, dude. Been abjectly disrespectin ya for a long time now. I think I understand the game better and I think I gotta thank you for most of it. KILLS me! You bastard! But I get it.

You're always gonna beat the human. You're just too goddam smart. Perfect being, right? It's moronic for a human to think they're gonna outplay you. Unless... Unless they put in the hard work to make themselves stalgruten. The only way to do that is to clean themselves of their darknesses. Their weaknesses. If you can't grab em, you can't fuck em. And you can only grab people by their weaknesses.

Personally, I'm with Tee. I'd like to live in a place where there seems no knowledge of you. Does that place exist? Or do they just call you something else there?

Let's play Contracts!

CONTRACT OF DIRECT AND TORTIOUS INTERFERENCE UPON MY SOVEREIGN BEING

EFFECTIVE DATE: 9/28/2021

Glossary Of Terms:

Cocksucker - (n) Any animate or inanimate entity, living or dead, or any other inhabitant of any plane, sphere, or realm of existence adjacent to or overlapping any dimension or worldview that connects, however tangentially, with this 3rd dimensional Gaian Earth Sphere.

EVEN FUCKING TOUCHES ME - (v) To act in a manner consistent with hostility, aggression, or dominance without just cause or right to do so. This includes all 3rd dimensional physical, mental, and emotional abuse based in ignored logic and/or a worship of the self. Also inclusive of any magical, spiritual, demonic, or - yet undiscovered by man - medium available to said cocksuckers. This is specifically exclusionary of cocksuckers who don't know and haven't been exposed to anything of higher intellect and vibration. This is specifically reserved for those who SHOULD know better and act otherwise. This action requires both knowledge and intent.

Laced and graced - (adj) Unwilling to perform to masked, social distanced or 'vaxxed-only' audiences. Standing for basic human sovereignty. Speaking ethical reason and empowering truth.

WRATH OF GOD - (n) That which rights wrongs and wrongs rights, in biblicly epic ways, in the pursuit of rebalancing our playing field.

CONTRACT OF DIRECT OR TORTIOUS INTERFERENCE UPON MY SOVEREIGN BEING:

Any cocksucker who EVEN FUCKING TOUCHES ME is in violation of my now Claimed Human Sovereignty IN THE NAME OF JESUS CHRIST. Any and all cocksuckers who are in violation of my Human Sovereignty agree to forfeit their eternal soul (intelligent, semi-intelligent, or pseudo-sentient inorganic essence) to me. For a period not to exceed 2 thousand years.

By EVEN FUCKING TOUCHING ME a cocksucker agrees to granting me 1st position lienholder rights to their immortal soul for 2 thousand years. This supercedes any and all other claims or 1st position lienholder rights to said soul until the 2 thousand year period has elapsed. All other claims will then be honored.

During said 2 thousand year period, I may transfer ownership of said cocksucker's soul or essence to any other cocksucker - not to exclude demons, goetia, or other abomination willing to play 'Free Market Capitalism' with me during the prescribed two thousand year period.

By attacking, delaying or hindering, in any way, me, my finances, or my family or loved ones you agree to forfeit your eternal soul to me for two thousand years - immediately and without reservation or appeal.

Also,

Any cocksucker who has obtained unauthorized access to my private life and has used such knowledge to financially enrich themselves, is in violation of my Fourth Amendment 'Right To Privacy' under the laws of the jurisdiction in which I was born and still reside. This violation will be remedied by a USD $100,000 payment to me. Immediately.

This USD $100,000 remuneration for violations against my private AND NOW MADE public figure, is granted exception to the following:

All Native Americans
Sarah
Annie
and any other cocksucker who turns out to be laced and graced.

This contract is specifically designed to provide compensation for the wrongs that have been done to my person and psyche. Those that have empowered me are specifically excluded from any remuneration.

This is a one-time USD $100,000 remuneration for ALL previous trespasses against my privacy. Anyone who want's to write songs about me and make money off em from here on out? Kick ass and take names.

EFFECTIVE DATE: 9/28/2021.

All parties agree that this contract be arbitrated by the WRATH OF GOD.

May it bless all involved.

So, lemme apologize.

My Present Traumatic Stress Disorder has gone Postal.

I think I kinda understand that shit better, now. All the psycho bullshit you just had to accept and adapt to, now can be seen as the psychotic bullshit that it is. The mundanity of everyday existence amplifies the immediate and visceral nature of what you had experienced. The juxtaposition of the two realities combined with the perspective that distance affords you is destabilizing.

I want to verbally, energetically, and physically abuse everything that doesn't do exactly as I say. I'm done. I have been through hell and back and, frankly, don't give a rat's ass about your tolerance level for pain. I have had more than you. And your suffering now is justified by my own.

I miss the fuck outta my cat. She got him in the divorce. But the last week or two, I would not have treated him in a manner I would be proud of. I would have made him suffer. Not bad, but more than I'd ever be happy with. Because my pain isn't heard, I will inflict some on others.

There is no logic in it. It just is. A natural reaction? Or a programmed response? Couldn't tell ya, man. What I can tell ya is that I didn't wanna go outside, because I could start sobbing uncontrollably at any time. Or laughing. Or fall in love. Or hate. And unleash my tongue on the ignorant, self-righteous little sheep. It's no longer a question of what is right. It is a matter of how much I have suffered.

I want to destroy every middle-aged woman who tells me I have to wear a mask to remain in the building. These cunty little overbearing control freaks who KNOW we all used the same door handle to get in here, and we ALL used the same cash machine at the counter. But that mask she keeps adjusting and that piece of transparent plastic erected between us, as she hands me my receipt under it, is gonna save a small percentage of us from having to LOSE OUR SENSE OF SMELL FOR A MONTH. And this intellectual limpet is going to ENFORCE her scientifically illiterate view of the world on a Sovereign Sorcerer backed by a fucking ARCHANGEL???

Not today, cupcake, go get your supervisor. Daddy's fixin to rumble.

"I'm sorry, sir. I apologize for any confusion (imply that she's lied to him - without ever going near it - and come off like the most reasonable asshole in the room who might even appear to feel attacked, himself). I really don't have any problem with you. I understand you've got bosses that enact rules. But I might suggest that you pass this up to your bosses. I'm a little shook up by the fact that it looks like your company is violating the Geneva Conventions by forcing your employees to wear oxygen depriving masks while they work their shifts. Honestly, sir or ma'am, I have no fight with you. I'm not looking to cause trouble. I worry about the carbon dioxide rebreathing levels of your employees. Am I totally outta line, here?"

Well, surgeons do it all the time.

No. Surgeons do it for surgery. They don't sit in their office or walk rounds masked up. Why? Because the mask is so comfortable and unobtrusive and conducive to natural breathing, speech, facial recognition and social interaction, right? That's why they don't wear one when they don't need to.

Schmucks.

I got precious little pity and "above it all" left in me.

And now I have people who never lost anything in their lives working "graveyard rituals" on me. Sweety, I wonder how your graveyard rituals stack up against my Wrath of an Angry God? You want me to suffer? Done. Any more'll cost ya.

I am stronger than you
I see more of what's true
And I use it to empower the meek

Your eager new chatter
Gives rise to the matter
Of your worldview not matching your speak

So I smile in denial
Of your ego driven guile
And stay myself from exploiting all your weak

But when a man is pushed too far
And he rides a falling star
Your ass might just hafta turn the other cheek

I do a little dream interpretation. It's kinda unsettling to see people describe their dreams in such detail to strangers. There's alot to tell about a person's psyche from their dreams.

Their are two major symbols that can help you understand your own dreams better.

In a dream, a house is a belief system. It is a set of perspectives and "ways of thinking about things" that composes the 'structure' of a mind. When you dream about being back in your grandmother's house, the dream is referencing a style or pattern of viewing the world. It could be wonderful in some areas and terrible in others - but it should be regarded as the fingerprint of your grandmother's habits of thought.

Secondly, a car is a life's journey. It is very likely that a son going into his father's business would have a few dreams of riding in his father's car with his father driving. And when his father passes, he dreams of himself alone driving his father's car.

Until YOU can be honest with yourself, you will build stories and structures in your mind that are false. Flawed. Unstable. These are the weaknesses in your castle. Your symbolic 'house.' Love and Logic are the repair tools, but you must have the ability to judge YOURSELF first and foremost. Until then, you will just create elaborate stories to hold aloft a belief system that does not match the reality we are both experiencing.

A house with a flawed foundation.

"But dude, there are reality tunnels. Your version of reality is so different from mine, how could you possibly understand my reality tunnel when you're wrapped up in your own?"

Wrong, asshole. Do you know what a car is? Do you cross the street? Use a fork? How are we having this conversation, brainjob? Because our reality tunnels intersect enough to find harmony on the level of CONVEYANCE OF THOUGHT THROUGH LANGUAGE (as imperfect as it might be). Your "reality tunnel" ain't nearly as different from mine as you think it is.

"Well, this is my truth."

You wouldn't know 'Your Truth' if it Wet Willied ya. You are so bent on subjugating those around you as to make up stories to explain in detail your excuses for fucking them. Your Truth isn't even that. You are so over-invested in what other people think of you as to cheat to win status and then bullshit people into pitying you for screwing someone else over.

You have no care in the world for Your Truth. Your Truth has become Their Truth. It only matters what THEY think of you. Who gives a shit what YOU think of you? You're winning the game if they believe better of you than you do! Ha! Got em all fooled! Who's Number One!!! Who's Number One!!!

-

Dear God,

Thank you for Mike and Jezu. They hooked me up again the other day. All kindsa outta nowhere when I went low. Swooped on me and made everything alright again. Even though it isn't. They rock.

It's weird, Da. I feel like I got a personal relationship with You and Jezu, yeah? I don't really feel one with Mike. Dude, and he's the guy I'm all kindsa fanboy for, right? Should I not try to have a personal with him? Is that not how angels work? Or am I fraternizing? Man, you should boss him into tellin me a story. When I get around him, I go all giddy and wide-eyed. I can't manage an intelligent conversation with him because I go all weak-kneed and girlish.

Please boss Mike into chattin me up one a these days. May it bless all involved.

And, hey man, don't think I'm feelin like beggars should be choosers and all... But You could pass on that my favorite would be the bible dragon story. Cause I don't think that one's got alotta swords and explosions, right? I think that one was fought with reason, too. Tarot swords. But if I'm wrong, I wanna know. And I wanna see it... Like on smuggled cellphone video.

Anyway, Da, feelin really lovey toward ya and wanted a kiss.

-

So I'm leavin. My time here is done. Should be interesting to see how it plays out, no? I'm feelin better already. I'll be fine.

I would say that any celebrity that takes a stand against the mask, distance or jab is taking a stand for human sovereignty and God. And any celebrity that performs to a masked, distanced, or vaxed only crowd has taken a stand for slavery and Lucifer.

I wonder if Maddy will say nice things about me on October 8th?

Thank you all, I've gotta bow out, now.