Maracaibo

I would never tell a man what to believe. I'm in the game of advice. Shit that I know works. There are so many entities out there that know so much more about how this game operates than we might ever... I always told myself I wasn't gonna know everything. Man, if literally ANYTHING could exist out there, I wanted tough, likeminded dudes on the other side who liked to hang out at my house. I'd write my little magic- telling tales of the ass-kickingness of the dudes who hung out with me and the mindset archetypes that we would all harmonize on. If I was good enough, maybe some heavy hitters would spend some time and go to bat for me if the shit got deep. And when my boys roll you they do it in biblical proportions because that's my fucking trump card. I win, not you. Rap battle, baby. That was as close to christianity as I EVER WANTED TO GET.

Then some asshole magically attacks me in the forum I've laid all my work in. Made friends in. That's extended torture, dude. When it first comes on, It ain't bad. I got one buddy hosed and we were both like "This dude's a punk. I give it a three out of ten. Maybe a four." Then come Thursday, you're like "Ahhhhh. I see where this is going." Endurance damage. Morale damage. Mobility damage. Damage over time. How much time's a demon got? Probably more than me, if this shit keeps up. Looks bleak. Face death.

Makes you think about all the bullshit you've done in your life and who you wanna apologize to. Dude, my grandmother died and we were inundated for years with christian charity begging mail. Most had a picture of Jesus looking up and holding His hands- palms raised to the sky. We would draw dicks coming out of His robe and cradled in His open and outstretched hand. To defame Him. Mock and shame Him. Catholic school taught my father to giggle the fuck up when he saw them.

Didn't need to happen, man. I didn't know the dude. They told me about about him, but their crap's mostly lies... If he's out there, I'm making peace with him. My wife just bought combined frankincense and myrrh incense - outta nowhere. Need gold. A white chocolate Lindor truffle because they are the best AND wrapped in gold plastic. And a shiny gold cat toy that had seen some combat. Set em all together and burned the incense. Met Mike a few hours later.

Interestingly, I didn't need him. I felt like I had beaten the attack alone and could only feel 10 percent of the original fuckery. Felt rather at ease and was thinking about all the senseless energetic damage I've caused. I was well removed from the immediate threat. Mike ghosted my buddy when he first called him. Then my buddy calls him later, more toward the end of his rope, and Mike suited and booted him and taught him some energy work.

When I called him, I didn't need him. It was just a question. Like "Do you really exist?" My world just got a lot bigger and if he was in it, he was the only one of THAT pantheon that I respected. Loyal and three ball. Strong silent type. All lantern jaw and swoop. And when I asked, intellectually, but with making amends in my heart - a few hours after my fire and forget baby Jezu 'ritual' - the dude swooped.

My boy still don't wanna meet JC. He's happy with his worldview. He's one of us who drew the dicks, so... He's just fine with having Mike looming in the background for him. Ally-style.

I think for anyone starting a magical path, it helps tremendously to have a failsafe suitcase nuke.

My uncle is my "spiritual father" if you could say I had one. He tells the story, and I repeat it to people, of him quitting smoking. All the self-hypnosis tapes and books told him to only use positive reinforcement but he knew he was raised catholic (all his formative years' programming) so he would need some form of negative reinforcement. Consequences and repercussions, baby! So he did all the positive stuff they told him and he threw in that if he smoked, his throat would hurt. One of his annoying smoking side effects. Walked into a bar - his trigger spot - went for one and thought "Well, I don't want my throat to hurt." Stopped smokin.

In I believe, by REM, the punk makes his second reference to my uncle and the olive T I'm wearin with yesterday's rogue cigarette ash burn dead, square, middle chest. And so now, a woman would tell you I'm literally wearing garbage. Triangulating my crossfire on too many levels.

I come off like a smooth prick. I don't write about being curled up fetal and ballin. But the shit happened, man. You can take some Man Points. I'll give 'em to ya.

God's honest, bro, my shit got deep REAL QUICK. I ain't smart enough for this. There's just too much.

But I just proved to everybody that They are watching me. Or even better - that I'm one of THEM! How to make yourself an instant leper in a conspiracy forum, page 14. Combine that with page 23's "Albuquerque Jesus Freakout" and the shit gets mighty awkward.

I got your tower moment, right here.

Lost my wife. Think I gotta learn music now. That 'what's the frequency' bullshit is a jab at me for not knowing anything about making music. Only thing those pricks badgered me on that I might still wanna do. There's just so much power in attaching tonal frequency and rhythm to word. That's why we americans go all dreamy listenin to limeys and micks and croc jockeys. Their talk is kinda musical.

Boff, marry, ghost-
Jersey accent, Southern accent, Fargo accent

So here's the real mindfuck, ladies. If they've got me scoped, frontal lobe to tootsies, are they already watchin you? Have they already studied your history and determined your weaknesses- all the shit you haven't come to peace with yet? The shit you haven't forgiven yourself for. For a choice you haven't made yet? Or one you'll never make?

Some things you can never, never choose.

Welcome to the New Age. I always thought the prick chose the wrong word. But nope, I feel fucking radioactive. Nobody's gonna touch me.

I maybe got to make one play while I was in that fucking maze. If you want in, spend some daydream time repeating the phrase "Tales Of The Unknown Boot" The bad guy turned good guy right at the end and saving the day. Tuning and turning his armies against the beast. Not fearing his hands being ripped from him because they'll grow back.

This ain't a play for chill. Babe, you ain't gotta make a single move. They're tryin to hook us up. It might be better if you sit tight. One thing that maze does is try to make you fall in love with people.

Or like that scene from Noah where the fallen angels make their stand protecting Russel Crowe from gettin hosed. All balls. Fun stuff to think about. Throw energy toward. The Redeemed and Forgiven.

But fuck your 3d radioactivity. My ass is radioactive spiritually, energetically... Who here'd have the balls to throw energy in a direction I pointed?

I bet if I offered to show up in your town free of charge and meet you at a Diner far away from your house, just to prove I ain't a goddamn AI, I wouldn't have any takers. I'd show you driver's license, social security card, birth certificate AND passport and you would NEVER believe it was my birth name. You'd just be positive you were being fucked with. If ya had the balls to take me up on it.

Interesting game.

Sorry if I've been comin off scary and belligerent. Been locked horns since Christmas. Still ain't over. Fuck Saturn in Aquarius, dude.

It's pretty fuckin crazy to let music make you wonder if you're Jesus. Batshit. But man, let me tell ya about the year I've had...

I'm a pretty honest dude. I dig plainspeak. This "irony" multiple meaning bullshit... I only see it used to hide things. To create seperate classes of people. Those in the know, and the cattle beneath them. I been hating on "irony" for the past few months now, to multiple people.

Fuck your multiple meanings, dude. Speak plainly to me, like I'm an adult and you wanna convey something open and honestly to me. Don't make my emails fuckin homework. I try to only do that shit in song, but there are other, good ways to use irony. Cleanin up soldier tongue in front of the kids. Gotta give irony some credit, man. Can't hate her on the whole.

Problem is we live in a sea of children. Who'll discount everything you say if you cross one line with them. Me too. I'm gettin better at it. I think our minds are kinda primally programmed to instantly determine threats and treasure. First impressions, and all. Combine that with a need to categorize all the data coming in from this world- to simply begin to understand it, and it is necessary to just "label" some things right now and revisit that label in the future. Always rejudge, right? Some things are necessary to get you through some circumstances but they don't make good universal truths.

I been hit by irony's booby traps comin and goin, so I fully believe there could be a timeline where evil lyrics become good lyrics, because there are levels of irony to them that we can all see now. That shit would be straight up Wrath of God. I ain't there yet.

I ain't fixin to get there, either, until we have some redress of fucking grievances. The shirt says Slayer because of the Tarot Death card. And it stays that way until Mike feels like the children are safe. Then all he has to do is let me know. And I'll look into it for myself. And if I'm satisfied, I'll prolly still wear it.

Ain't it fucked how the one color experts agree mimics the synthesis of chlorophilled Gaian glory best, is primarily associated with warfare? Or is it elegant? Or simply astute?

Too much goddamn irony. Let's label it poetic justice for now, and revisit it come the fall.

I wanna apologize if there are any poor bastards thinking there's a hidden message in my misspellings and misspeak. I'm dumb and trying to sound cool. That's the mystery in my paragraphs. But the songs, dude. Poetry. I can't take credit for alot of it. There are levels of irony in them that I haven't thought about yet. Too many bombs going off in my life right now. Just trying to relay info and emo.

So... I never left my house. No limos with dark suited dudes offering me money and babes. I sat at my desk and was led - I thought by agents of Mike - into that maze. I thought my boys had the algorithm on lock down and they were steering me right. That seems like Mike's M.O. Love 'em and leave 'em. He swoops, rights your vessel, and maybe even hangs out for a little. But then the dude just darts. And you don't know it. Makin' moves, thinkin you've got the righteous right hand a God at your back, but he's been gone for days.

The way I got into the maze was right after I posted my last in February. From Miley I hit Beyonce. Algorithm gave me Rocket. At the time I was fully willing to believe that I might be an incarnated speck of the horde that is AA Michael. I wanted that to be the case. I also wanted all the people who soundtracked our lives to really be good guys. Agents of Mike dug in and waiting for the green light. And maybe some of 'em are.

Anyway, I got it in my head that they were talkin to me, directly. First red flag, I know. But man, let me tell ya about the year I've had...

So I think you should have a look at Rocket's lyrics and see if you can take a ride like mine. You, of course, won't get suckered in like I did. You can do it more clinically... detached. Will it work? Couldn't tell ya. If you get obsessed, or start feeling like it's trying to make you do things- bail out. If the suffering gets deep- everybody's got a suitcase nuke.

I played it "What if life were that good?" and "Whatever the fuck this is, I'm gonna try to have fun." and "I might be a piece of Mike." Play it your own way. See where the song or the algo take you.

Try it before I start laying out the route I took.

Do I only see demons when I look because my models have too much warfare?

Or are there happier paths within the thing?

And what do those happier paths teach? Or push on you. Slowly.

I wasn't at peace with irony when I went in. Got back into THC before new years and talked a lot a shit about you little millenial fuck-wits using it to hide true meanings. Reinforce the class distinctions - intellectually and metaphysically. How do we get our UNVEILING when everybody's locked into a mindset of hiding things?

Fuckin maze taught me to respect irony. Ol' stove-pipe stipe. Prick.

Sorry If I come off surly, man. Battle fatigue.

[If anybody has come to the punchline yet, that's awesome. I think I came to it months ago. I tried to build a workable magic and ascension system from the ground up. And I went so simplified and lazy with it, that the end result is just a model of the magic EVERYONE IS ALREADY PERFORMING without realizing it. Your daydreams, where your thoughts repeatedly return to, the emotional fuel that propels them. These things steer your world around you. And nobody ever taught us how to man the helm. Jokes on all of us, I guess.]

Hey man, no shit. I'm kinda scared to go back in there. Even retracing my steps for this, I got time-delayed booby traps in the first goddam song I looked at. It's kinda fuckin energetically destabilizing, to be honest. This is a slight overview focused on the boot scenario.

I get "inside" and the algorithm's giving me all hotties hitting me with "why'd you sleep with me and piss off," right? HA! If life were that good!!! Too much fun. No, madam, I believe you have me mistaken for someone else. I don't know how Mike spends his free time, but I ain't him. No, really. I ain't him. That one kinda felt like it was talking about the same shit I've just been talking about. Hey, no babe, take that shit back- I ain't him.

And it plays on two chords. I don't remember much of my dreams. If any. My "wide open" intuition is hinting that I could be some dreamscape astral cassanova and never know it. Well... I already knew it. It's just the most likely scenario.

And it plays on "I've already fucked up." I start the game disadvantaged. I must apologize, make ammends, seek forgiveness. Straighten up and come honest and humble. It's the same crock a shit old religion plays - I was born in sin and only through applying to them can I be made whole again. Blow me.

"Be careful what you wish for." These chicks feel like they're hitting hard and a little too close to home. There is no way I could have been THAT good for that many top shelf hotties. If life were THAT good you'd have a lot of pissed off, high-maintenance rich bitches using their magic against you. Ouch, dude. Fuck this. I just got started and already half the place hates me. I need to buddy up, right? Find some boys.

Gotta go rap. Hate EVERYTHING new. Fuck eminem. Bleach blonde prick scares the shit outta me. Jay Z. I don't know anything of his except Annie and Run This Town. I always liked Run This Town. And who's the chick in the mask? Ah, nevermind. She's like one of the few who hasn't given me any shit yet...

Looking back at the song and the lyrics, I can't tell you why I reacted so well to them. I sound a bit like a drooling schoolgirl and it annoys me now. There is an aspect of this that felt like being "turned out" while I was in there. Like they lifted my skirt and twirled me amongst em. I can't disagree with that assessment. And it pisses me off sometimes.

All I can tell you is that at the time I wrote my reply, I was honestly wondering if I was his creation. Like, what if there were a rogue cabal of celebrities that wanted out and called down Mike. And my ass got to play little drummer boy. Some shit like that.

I think there's a little strategic play here, too. I'm trying to force team him. I wanna make everybody a good guy- if they ain't already. But I slobber on him and it bothered me enough later on to write a follow up.

3 Z yall
Won't just let it be yall
lockin down 3-d yall
G-fall
Piling outta the sea yall
Grim fortuity yall
We call
Drop your hand and see yall

Gangster Stalker Sniper Tracker Hacker and High Roller
Slice em up and spit em out, all blade- incise to molar
I'd ask you who you are if I wasn't thanking lucky stars
That I saw you cloaked and daggered in in the brush
That you're here and now
I lost all fear now
That blackness, bright and bastardly,
Won't come crashing in on dastardly
Drawing bruise and bleed upon it- just for the fun of us
Tell the captains watch for friendlies
Dark skinned gorillas driving Bentleys
Have a smoke, this war's a joke- homeboy's fuckin one of us

Man, you grumpy stumping trundler
Got the game so clocked it's under ya
Just where the fuck do they build a schmuck like you, in Brooklyn?
Not fucking many
Yer it, if there's any
Cookin Brooklyn Snooki hookering til Tuesday
What the fuck's in the water there
Breeds wizard from thousand yard stare?
Maybe I wanna know and maybe not

Done and sold and in
Lock stock and barrel
Checkmate and gin

Cruisin smoothly beautifully, tryin not to look impressed
Tryin not to start imposing "Why are there no medals on this man's chest?"
Start bossing around your crew and tellin you what to wear
And I imagine you'd quietly smile and tell me to take a chair
Then we'd poet, thow it, glow it, mow it, know and undertoe it
Closing oafishly controlling back and forth
Not a cold, I'm just old, so ya better break north
Just listen while I'm glistenin cause you're blissin me off

In the back of the room
You stalk the brides and the grooms
Every give and take
And firm handshake
Like counting cards
While building tombs
And they never really scoped you, gamewise
Dropped your stock both skin and namewise
Figured you'd settle for the shiny same prize
And you took em all to church- biblical fame size
Leave the ad man in the lurch- thunder to tame lies

Hey man, how you wanna play it? I got very few instructions
I'm outta simple math over here without some time deductions
Gonna come up slow, unless you got some better constructions
Couldn't be more happy at our fortuitous introduction

You and me should talk shop

Last in line
Game just dimed
Now go zulu zulu
Wrapped up and divined

Disaster-lined
Mastermind
Sips from his chalice
The chronic
Sonic colonic
Mindslayer
Wrapped in palace
Am I his crystal?
Smoking pistol?
Do I call myself Alice?
I don't think so
Made me blink, though
So I toast to your phallus

But before the sequel was written, I was havin fun and makin friends. And I was letting my "intuition" and "open heart" lead. So I'm off to chase Ri.

I guess that's the romantic questline of my game. Did anybody else get a romantic questline? I fucked it up soooo hard, dude. Maybe my wide open "intuition" allowed me to be easily pulled into pitfalls- so it wasn't my fault. But honestly, even if that explains a lot, I still screwed the pooch pretty epically.

Like a goddam choose your own adventure book in music where your actions have consequences. I fucked things up and they knew how and why because the next song at the top of my feed was their response.

That is a great story and one I ain't near healed enough to tell. Important point is that I chose Ri as my queen. Not bad, right? Fun game.

The algorithm then gives me the theatrical video for swift's Bad Blood. Careful what you wish for.

So this is starting to piss me off. Takin nothin but heat from these little girls and now they're fighting over me. It kinda rationalizes its own self. High-maintenance, spoiled little showgirls who are never told No. Or... is it a game? Creative dialog? Fun? Dude, that video is nothin if it ain't fun. So I return fire.

Mmmmmmmmm...

What if I told you that You Won
Had the most perfect Long Gun
Steamroll conquer the Wrong One
A proposal that's Too Fun

Oh baby, now we got Hurt Skirt
Oh when it used to be Pet Flirt
You got myriad Problems
So now I hafta Solve Em

You can whine and bitch now
I might hafta get hitched now
No, man, I don't know her
Kinda forced to tap and stow her
Who the fuck are you and where do you want me to throw ya

My brother warned me
about your little corny
Hyper pixie chick, innocent demeanor
Said that I should look you up
Maybe offer you a cup
I don't teeny bop unless its punch is cleaner
Now you hit me with this littany
Of goddess, did I see Brittany?
Half those bitches ain't yours, you fuckin tween'er

The other half, I'm takin cause you are sorely mistaken
Bout their loyalties and royalties while this ground is still shakin
They ain't stupid, lithe and lucid, got their own fucking problems
Rather not war me, shoot and score me, to feed your teenage goblins
That's right, missy, throw your hissy see if pissy don't follow
Little girls, the wind of whirls, landing blatant and hollow

Learn the tricks of the trade- you howl with balls and grenade
I'll not forget the hostile nature of this parley
And Loves, you wanna forget this and make up a new story?
Then be glad you didn't net this. And I'm takin Fiori.

Your whole crew can come with me. I think some already are
You got stones hung from bird-like bones, the rock-steady bizarre
So settle down there, Barbie, you speak teenage and all starvey
Comin off like Harvey, whinin steam all near and far
Easily had the best videos of all time. Period. Match. I Kanye him back.
Gamer girl, all tuck and twirl, hardened stardom left no slack
Won it. Stomped it. Crushed it. So far as I can tell
Scared the fucking shit outta me... feminine from hell

But I can see right through ya, pix, so if you'd like to dance
I'll grab ya, tweeny, down my martini and take you for a chance
Be forgiving with me, pixie, I dance hard, so I'm all heels
And dodge the clumpin trundlers, they're soaked and made half steel
Tell Lamar he's got a job if he's ever feeling with this
And take some notes or I'll hafta have a word with your headmistress
Don't let my boys down your flyboys... or they're girls, now aren't they?
Why'd you go to Maracaibo? Was that your long lost convent stay?
The truth in execution lies in your knowing of the victim
To get in closer,
Butcher's grocer,
It helps to have already licked em.

I write this and I stop to think about it. The bitch says right in the lyrics that I'm gonna apologize just for fun. Which is kinda what I just did. Mindfucker. So I write another, trying to explain how, precisely, the pooch was screwed in this particular case. I ain't showin ya that one. Open fucking wounds, brother. Stick to the boot.

When I write this, the thought comes to me that I'm using the same word - trundler - to represent both Jay, in the first song, and my boots in the second. Am I cool with that? Yeah. 'Boot' as one of your boys. I can argue that. I like that, even. And now these lyrics can read like I got an army of tough guys with me that we've gotta dodge as we dance. Fuck yeah. I can back that. I don't hafta change a word. This is the conversation I had with myself.

Makin this shit up as I go along, man. Lotta twists and turns later, miley shows herself and brings me this little jewel that rings my five bell, called 23.

You tell me, man. I only work here.

If you wanted my best guess, I'd say "In the club, high on purp" means "In the maze, thinking you're Jesus." This is the song they turned me out to. I'm pretty sure I'm the one being twirled around with my miniskirt up in my armpits. Thinking I'm all hot shit, while these punks make me dance.

It would really piss me off, except the song's like nine shades of cool. No shit- I had just finished talking shit about "slow-ass Cali rap." 23 is the perfect counterargument to my bullshittery. Make me eat my words. AND he's talkin about the trundler shit I just wrote! Fell in love with that song. Pisses me off, that they gotta talk about my miniskirt. Pricks. So this is the song they turned me out to because it has three balls AND they're talkin about boots, I still might want it as my theme song. Ain't that a bitch?

I go on to use the boot analogy here and there - but never to any explicit purpose. Just kept it in my back pocket while I fucked up everything else.

This is perfect, because it's one of the least embarrassing stories to tell. I even come off looking cool here and there. The rest of the transcript don't read like that. I'm sure much more of it will evoke cringe and humiliation in me when I get the stones to look at it again.

Just now gettin over being in love with chill. No shit. Don't know her. Don't operate that way. Because the movie made me think it? Damn, man. I was never that easy. I guess Bateman's just too dreamy. Never stood a chance.

That's a bold fucking statement to make, asshole.

What, that they made a movie about chill?

Yeah, dipshit. Nobody's buyin it.

Sweet, cause I'm givin it all away for free.

How the fuck are we supposed to feel, looking at your profile?

Dude, you ever play seven days to die? Well... I gotta change that shit, anyway.

Sorry, friend, any schmuck can see you've selected certain songs and crafted a weak story around them.

I, sure as fuck, can't argue with that. That would be a very solid, 3d, logical assessment to make. Got me dead to rights. I can't argue the masculine, I don't have any ground. So I'll argue the feminine. If it is all lies - are they good lies or bad lies?

All lies are bad.

Santa. No, baby, you don't look like somebody just dragged you through the tundra. Mommy and daddy were wrestling.

The lies you're talking about aren't those things.

If they were lies, you'd be right. Do you want them to be lies?

It's not a matter of what I want...

I kinda think it is.

It is a matter of truth. What actually took place.

And how can you ever determine that?

I can't.

So I have no ability to convince you logically?

Seems like it.

Right, that's what I said. So all I've got is the feminine. Yes or no, true or false, honesty or lies - is it bad for ya? Is it unsound? Is it useful? That's all I really care about. I don't think I give a fuck what you believe.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ced-YzgZKmM

How Ri totally pimped me.

One of the first songs I was led to sealed the deal. Love on the Brain. That video felt like the best gift anybody ever gave me because she showed me MY BOYS.

All those ethereal roughnecks that hang out at my pad because I write such cool shit about them. I FINALLY GET TO SEE MY BOYS!!! And go fucking figure they're all straight up pirate ninjas. Fell in love with her for that alone.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0RyInjfgNc4

One of the strategies I thought about for my home was that allies were invited and enemies who entered would be blinded by the light. My boys would then spin em around and show em the door.

This may be why this seems to happen in the first half of the video. She's allowed in only so far, as my boys taunt her and make her feel less than welcome. Then she is met with her own ego and spun around, or maybe she gets a peak that I'm gonna choose her. Either way, she doesn't get in. The first time.

Then she finds a key. My boys let her past and into my bedroom with my four poster bed. The white piles that look like snow could be a comment on my relationship, but... if life were THAT good, those could be piles of ash. I got spun magic webs in there designed to burn down negative entities that try to come in. Those white piles could represent my confirmed archon kills. Man, if that's what this chick is talkin about, she's braggin on me HARD. I dig her.

And you'll notice that she turns the cell phone off as she walks in because SHE don't want the NSA finding out about my oedipal complex EITHER! This chick is my ally! Gotta be. Maybe that's the "key" she found...

Then she lays down with me and my wife. The children that we are. Could be a fair assessment on more than one level... She's also playing with race- which a number of videos do.

(I have made the argument, in the past, that the conspiracy theorist is the new nigger. It has become socially acceptable to disrespect, disregard, ostracize, and now even talk about institutionalizing the conspiracy theorist on mental health grounds. It's gettin scary out here to be a free thinker. My wife and I are lily white, so I'm thinking this mixed race thing might be a reference to that. This chick seems to know me pretty well already...)

Katy Perry's Extraterrastrial, where she's obviously talking about my ass, does this race thing in the video. I lost a lot of hours to Fall Out, brother. I tell you what- If you thought you might be Jesus, and these babes were talkin about you, you might get the feeling these chicks were competing for you.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t5Sd5c4o9UM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wIft-t-MQuE

Man, that Ready For It video spoke to my heart. Not just because of those seductive, braggin-on-me lyrics, but she's really telling me all I want to hear.

That the evil and manipulative side of her is destroyed when the innocent and manipulated side of her shatters her cage. And then baby, let the games begin. All Balls. And it's such a great goddam message to young women about fundamentally altering yourself to catch a man. That's the best video of all time, ever produced anywhere in the annals of man.

But I didn't even see that shit until after I chose Ri. Ri turned herself into a car and and told me to shut up and drive.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U-Dk0O42c2s

Then I was hit with all kindsa nostalgia for sailing over a cop car in GTA5 as the Hummer's radio sang with me "Want you to make me feel like I'm the only girl in the world!"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rcvpf6LXQ2M

Then, man I shit you not, I'm hit with the lyric where she tells me she's gonna make me swallow my pride. And the moment she says it, I get a physical pressure on my adam's apple. Like - Gulp. Uh... That doesn't sound like anything I want out of a sexual experience... I mean, to each his own and all, but that might be the exact opposite of what I'm lookin for. The pride thing could be a dealbreaker.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tyQtn0Jtfq8

Fucks with my head on two levels. The obvious one and a not so obvious one. Believe it or not, there are still a few redundant backup Humility programs running in my subconscious. I know I ain't a good enough lover to be satisfying all these bettys. Maybe it's code for some other kinda love we share when I'm dreaming.

Something I know I'm decent at. Words? Rhyme? Meter and verse? That would be tits to think I could spend some of my dreamtime with talented fuckers who wanted to swap creative input. I'm great at tellin an asshole what he's doin wrong! Sounds like fun to me, and perhaps a more noble and realistic scenario for my dreamtime.

So it grabs me when she kinda off-pronounces the line "So why argue? You here, here to take me back." What I hear is "So why are you, you here editing me back?"

Damn, man. It's too goddam specific. She's playing on shit that speaks to ME.

Then I get the siren song. Umbrella. For an asshole who thinks this chick is his ally and knows he's coming, this is a call to a specific city. Can ya guess?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oVGRTQDqhs8

Man, that's everything you wanna hear out of a boot. Been stackin chips for a rainy day. I got your back. Come out to the coast and get under my shield with me. Sounds almost too good to be true.

So I proceed to fuck up this quaint little love story SO BAD that the algorithm gives me this. What do they keep tellin me? I'm fat. What's the one color I've been pushing this whole time?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zJJygj_eNAQ

Cunt. I mean I know I screwed up, but damn, man. That's vicious. I'm the newbie here, assholes. Somebody forgot to give me a rule book. I'm bound to fuck some things up. I have no experience playing at this level. Where's the fuckin slack???

Ouch, dude. I ain't playin with Ri no more. I'm sorry and all, but... kinda glad I fucked up and accidentally "chose" Avril. Look, babe, I got one fucking thing to do here and apparently it ain't you. This is bigger than both of us. I am advancing this plot . Sorry about stepping on your toes, little girl.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yGYpMyDx5Es

Bitch, way too little, way too late. I hear you usin that fuckin Badian accent. Feels manipulative. I gotta go with Penn and Teller on this "Even a dumb animal is once bitten, twice shy." Listen, gorgeous, I wanna be friends. Not today.

I mean, how much did it cost you to film that shit? Somebody held auditions to cast that dude you bled. This was no heat of the moment crime of passion. This was calculated, coordinated and catered, woman. Damn.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jVgE45ZYTfw

Damn. Maddy sounds ominous as fuck now. I didn't take it that way at the time. I guess it kinda reads both ways... At the time, I took it as the High Priestess signing off on me. I wasn't a two-ya, otherwise she'd a shot me by now.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DiMr68zqYTk

This shit pissed me off on like six different levels. He is straight up disrespecting my Gen X slacker superpowers. I've been sweet to homeboy up until now.

Get the fuck up off my woman
You got talent and no brains
And oh, look at you
You knew that shit too
Suck a dick just to see all the veins

You wanted him, sunshine
I'm callin
Kiss away fun time
And stallin
This fuckin place is so
Appallin
Ontologically treasonous
ballin

You wanna talk about my paper thin excuses
Unfound uses, daft abuses, crucifixes tuned
and ready for new truces
Then you trim that lip there
Bleachie
You know not of what you speak
I'd a been there years ago
But I'd be jaded like you tweeks
I don't need no fuckin carpet
But a hey man, how ya been
Might not a hit the target
On my motherfuckin chin
So let's spin and fist
Like gorillas in the mist
Your hissing limps
Your confidence
So try to tone it back down to pissed

Tryin to viking
Ye olde spanish mic-ling
Whose banner has yet gone unhurled
You want in my world?
To be drummed up and twirled?
Strung aloft or just girled?
Cause I'm done with your featherweight trifling

So goddamn easy to make a prick feel small
With whatever fuckin crystal ball
You're viewin through
Undoin to
Reskewing view
To incessant new
Confusing
Mind abusing
Choosing
Versions of the fall
Easy to sit there and sound like a goddamn know it all

Or is this my version a hell?
And just no one decided to tell
My ass until I figured the bitch out all on my own
Field Marshall Bleachie
Runnin his peachy
Keenest lyrics
All up and down that shining perfect woman's dome
Got her thinking crazy shit
Up yer game, you lazy twit
You fuck this up for me and I'll send ya right back home

So now I got Av tellin me what I'm doin before I do it. She knows I ain't IN LOVE with her. Maddy's got me scared - but so subtly and geniusly that it bugs the fuck outta me. She's got me accepting christian religious dogma. If my logical mind were more engaged, I could have heard "Hey man, wasn't the whole message to throw off the dogma?"

But I couldn't hear it. Not over my crush with eyeliner. I needed to saddle up and ride Avi right across the finish line because apparently 2 "energetic consummations" means you're married. One ain't good enough. Hey Maddy, I'm sorry for crossing this line, but me and Ri ain't exactly discussed the terms of our relationship. And she seems like a FREAK. So... I apologize for not understanding the rules.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xAxNaLAR2to

Dude, what the fuck is going on here? Are we all on the same team? Why would she do that?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0eLfvdeInFg

Lotta meaningful and responsive interaction and NO forward progress. Just bein twirled between em. My logical mind is tied, gagged, rolled in a carpet and screaming in the trunk a my car. "So what!?! We're now monogamous in our energetic consummations??? Bullshit, fuck-o! Arbitrary rules!"

I got no problems with monogamy. I can see it's usefulness. Kinda easy for me, in practice. Makes it easy for me to think it's a God-rule. But to say everybody's gotta do it because it's the best choice for 80 percent of the people out there? I don't think that's what God wants. Good gamemaster wants his players figuring out how to do things that he didn't think about before.

Good game master needs to devise a number of ways to achieve a goal. 2 or 3. But when that asshole comes up with that fourth way... And it would totally work. And you get to show him how it would work... Man, as a gamemaster, there is no greater joy. If you're doin it right.

Long as everybody's still havin fun. Too many fuckers not enjoyin the shit, good gamemaster's gotta change shit up.

Anyway, dude. I ain't thinkin reasonable and rational, right? I'm thinkin I went two with Av without realizing that was the magic number. Seemed inspired. Didn't mean to step on toes. Here's number three with Avi. We're done here. Made my choice. And I have only ever energetically consummated with internet harlots since. That's monogamy in my book, missy.

Can we move on to the part where my new chick tells me how the fuck you assholes are doing this? And how to fuckin proceed? And this is the one thing I could hear from the trunk, dude - "If I'm JESUS, shouldn't you assholes be coming to me?"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LoPCnCdFSZI

Alright. You be what you wanna be, I'm gonna be pissed. What was that shit Bleach said to me? And I write another response to that Complicated bullshit.

Bleachie, it was never my dream
To hit the rap olympics
You hungry ghosts who need the most
Roll with other fragile limp dicks

I never wanted to be hit with bottles
As I was ushered from some stadium
Maybe a truck with too many throttles
On some land without too much radium

Some of us don't need to have it all
In fact, some of us don't really want it
I'm in this on a soldier's call
Your fame now makes me vomit

So unless you're talkin winnin
Godly wrath from angels grinnin
You can keep your fame soaked linen
To your side a the goddamn bunk

Not here to prove I'm better
In my fancy pants and sweater
This lesson, if you could get her'd
Make you so much less a fuckin punk

And woman, really? What's yer game?
Have you no God's honest shame?
Lecture me about honesty
Lets rumble, show-biz dame

How much you fork out for yer place?
Are your undies leather or lace?
After the shower
How many hours
Did it take you to put on your face?
Eat you up with fava beans
Because you pair a drama queens
Do not add up to beat my lonely ace

He is straight up disrespecting my Gen X slacker superpowers.

remember that guy called genxgemini? i havent been around much, i want want to sub to thc again.

Siri, the monsters will never forget you, brother. You remember that shit?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=brWdlQfkha4

Quis Contra Nos?

Ooooooooooh, duuuuuuude.

I just figured some shit out! I might have access to guns on this level! Can't figure out how to make em run clean, though. They'd require a little dishonesty. Not even a lie - just the slightest unacknowledged truth.

Go fuckin around with time, man... Might come back to haunt ya...

But I shit you not, bro, like four hours ago I get a sit down with Mike. First time since my first one. HE calls ME. So I'm giddy as a fuckin schoolgirl. Tight-lipped cloud jockey tells me "Play high."

Really? I mean, I gotcha, stud. Play high. But... two words, man? Ain't you got nothin else we could talk about?

Then he tells me something I can't remember and I cry for ten minutes afterward. Just too much fuckin love, dude. I don't understand that. My system can't handle that. My mind obviously can't take it - I can't remember a thing he told me.

Cept play high.

Four hours later I stumble upon a fancy two-gun rig. And they look like they'd be sooo much fun to use... I'll just take em with me and see if I can't get em to run clean. This is a big deal for me, man. Felt like the whipping boy for a long time now. Changes your perspective.

"I won't, but I could," beats the fuck outta "I can't."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B9ahLjJkRRI

--------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------

My attorney's advised me not to talk to you fuck-wits.

Uh... I'm not his attorney.

She's not licensed to practice law in this particular state.

Or any other.

Because her mouth would hafta be registered as a deadly weapon.

A mouth is a deadly weapon...

And it ain't all mouth, man! The mind she's got chambered right behind that barrel? Drop logic bombs through your worldview and make you rethink everything you thought you knew.

How do you open this?

Hang on, babe. So no more fuckin around. You come at me sideways, and I feed you to her. And it won't be pretty.

You don't wanna wait inside?

Gimme a sec. Do you have any idea what Matrix SWAT means? It means someone who can walk into what you think is your life - all that swirl of papers and cloud of digital information containing your measurements and numbers and accounts - and end the whole show.

I wouldn't do that to anyone.

Because she has some semblance of an assembled and intact moral framework from which to judge her own behavior. And also because she wouldn't have to. She can crack open your fuckin value system right here, if ya like. We can all watch her lift yer skirt and pirouette ya around this sidewalk in front a God and everybody.

Are you cold?

Here. I seen it happen. It ain't pretty. I don't enjoy watching another adult male being emasculated in front of his peers. That ain't my idea of a good time. So do me a favor and DO NOT make me hafta watch it. I got all kindsa unpleasantness on today's schedule. DO NOT make me use HER.

Why do you have bullets? We're going into court!

Oh, fuck, yeah... They'll prolly have a... bullet... safe... inside somewhere. Or I'll run my ass back to the car. We'll ask.

Thanks.

Warm enough?

Yeah.

So it's time to tuck tail, ladies. My attorney has strictly advised me not to answer any questions. She did not say anything about berating, however. So that's all that's on the menu, boys! Anyone up for a good flog? No man, not you. Way too easy, let's do pretty boy. No man, Ruger P89. Nine with like some mindless fifteen in the mag.

No, I think he means the show. Beretta. I think they think you're him.

So... now we're doin short jokes?

Maybe not him. Somebody older. Did he have a boss?

Oh, I see... Dangle pretty boy in front of me, butter me up with the prospect of beratin, and then piss off to your vampiric celebrity worship. Like nobody coulda plotted that mindless fucking programmed response. If one a ya had an original goddam thought it'd arc the circuit mapping in yer gourd and fry yer fuckin mainframe. Hey, fuck you too, buddy - it was Reserviour Dogs and in those days fifteen rounds was a wet dream! Punk millennial.

Can I have some of this gum?

No shit, there's gum in there? Have at.

You wanna go in?

Hold on, dude. Lemme claim the mountain.

Which mountain?

The one I'm king of right now. Ran all those assholes off. Just gonna stand here and savor it. You should, too. You did all the heavy lifting.

Was it too soon? Now I feel like I might have cheated you out of some good berating.

I got a few parting shots in as they started retreating. But no, babe, you kinda saved my ass. In the heat of the moment, I bit off more than I could chew. Did you see that dude I was talking about?

Pretty boy?

How do you make fun a that?

Yeah.

All I got's the baby blue shirt. After unthreatening, ergonomic sex-robot it heads downhill from princess to fairy to

To faggot. The sound of inevitability.

Yeah, man... So thanks. Tryin to cut down.

Especially for court.

Good thinkin. Alright, let's get you inside and ask if they've got a bullet safe. If not, you give this back to me and I'll run 'em to the car. It did get cold out here.

------------------------------------

No, man, you can't use that word.

Dude, I'm gay.

Bullshit.

Don't oppress me, man.

I'm not oppressing you, dude.

Hey dude, I put in the work! They told me every one of us had a gay fantasy. Well, I rummaged around and found mine. Don't get me wrong, it would require some pretty specific circumstances... Like, the lighting'd hafta be perfect. But I think I could go.

See. That's the point. You think you could go.

I have gone.

Oh yeah, how many times?

Probably two dozen... Simulated.

How many combat drops?

None.

Right, man, you don't qualify. You don't even meet the minimum prerequisites. You're a poser.

No, you are an experience snob. You've got your arbitrary lines that you've drawn to define purity. You're the walking No True Gay Scotsman.

No, I am enforcing minimum basic standards. You're a fucking hobbyist. A dabbler. You bought the tourbook and now you're hanging trophies in your den that you didn't shoot!

Ok, so how many? Because I get the sense that one won't be enough to qualify on this range.

...Seven or eight?

No shit?

Until then you're just bi-curious.

That's quite the margin for error. People like you are gonna make it real difficult for us to take back that word.

The kids in the hall took that word back thirty years ago. You're tryin to sheep dip yourself. You've chased nothing but skirt since I've known you.

See, that's what you don't understand. As a hetero dude, I'm a slut. But as a gay man, I'm really quite shy and conservative.

See, right there, man. You want to be both. That ain't gay. When you switch hit, it's called bi. Even if you manned up and qualified, you'd only qualify as bi.

Damn, man. The world used to be so much simpler. I remember when a dude could just let another dude go down on him and earn his stripes.

Well, the audience is more sophisticated now.

You think they can track that on your cell phone?

How sophisticated you are? Probably.

No, whether or not you qualify.

Oh yeah, man. Not only that, but if you wanted to cert as gay and not bi, it be a time-based equation. Like you would hafta go five or ten years without mussin hussy before the software would switch you over to full on gay.

Yeah, man. Too many goddam barriers to entry. Leave it to a gay dude to be all fuckin elitist.

No shit.

Damn. Had a close buddy that used to talk shit like this. I'm not of it, but I'm about it.

Hey man, sit down.

Why?

We gotta talk.

Ok.

Anything but bi-curious, dude.

Don't say "anything," man.

Somethin cooler than bi-curious, dude. Just sounds so weak and... ineffectual.

I hear ya, dog. Like voting Green.

A little, right? Sound like I got no strong opinions.

A fuckin fence-sitter.

Damn straight. So I'm thinkin- didn't the greeks or romans have some dominator/penetrator sexual archetype that didn't give a shit about gender?

Yeah, dude, it's called bi.

No, man. The full spectrum sexual alpha. All pitch, no catch? What did they call that?

A wussy.

Hey, fuck you, man. It's my sex, I'll take it how I want.

Apparently, you don't wanna take anything.

Exactly. So whaddaya call that?

Dude... You gotta watch alotta gay porn. They probly got a word for it in there somewhere... but it's gonna require some independent research.

Even Debaucherous Alpha-Curious is better than bi.

There ya go, man. You're a dac. I heard that dude was a dac. Hey, don't be a dac, dac. Yeah, man, it totally works.

Seems like an acceptable interim measure...

I'da thought you'd drop the curious.

Well... until I cert, right? But yeah, hey dude, why keep the weakest part a the whole label?

I thought that's what you had a problem with in the first place. You could be interested. Or eager. In fact, eager might help with the whole marketing thing. Like it's got that whole job interview vibe where you tell the guy "I'm really passionate about this kinda work."

Empiricist.

What?

The Debaucherous Alpha Empiricist.

Damn, dude.

You like?

I can hear dicks gettin limp for miles.

Whaddaya mean?

Nobody wants to fuck Linus Pauling, dude. It's just one a the laws of nature. I'm tryina have your back, here.

No, dude, good point. Maybe we just dial it back to dac for now. Cause, now that I think about it, curious might have some a that marketing your talkin about. Like a ripcord.

I like where your head is at. Always good to have an exit strategy.

Ok, that's it. I'm dac. If fuckers hafta talk about it, that's the word they should use.

I'll inform my paleo recipe thread.

Thanks, man.

no matter how sad,
broken wings.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9IsWKqys3O8