What we need are some lights! I mean some powerful illuminate, blinding light kind of shit! Cause that's what it's about! If ya ain't scared! It's about me...and you!
That's all Sonshines! That's all! It's that fuckin easy! Ya know?
Just ASK! ("...Asketh, Seeketh and Knock (ASK))"...
(Peace! More to come...)
You always pay! Yo sorry ass gonna pay, one way or another. Even if the shit feels good as shit!
"Happy Ending! That be hundred forty-four dollas please."
We ain't eva got shit free motha fuckas! Neva!
Understand...
(Peace! More to come...)
I remember I read a book about compartmentalization, and it was fascinating to me how they have fucked up so many people to learn only a tenth or less of the mental capabilities of US! Hence; compart'MEN'TALization. Sorry motha fuckas! That's what frustrates them so.
Hence; well shit lets get rid of most of the mother fuckers! No, dipshits, can't do that! You have to mitigate damages before damages need to be mitigated, if you understand my meaning...
(Peace! More to come...)
Ya know, with yo sorry Black asses, the tit on this motha fuckin US of A gonna dry the fuck up! You don't? Shiiought!
Stimulus? The fuck why they named it that? Think about the word and its origin; its true meaning...then you start understanding what's really happening to all of US!....
(Peace! More to come...)
2021 motha fuckas! Two-Zero-Two-One! And the signs are fully apparent to one and all that, ultimately; alas, "History is going to repeat itself!" And fucking fail...again...
Unless...
(Peace! More to come...)
Motha fuckas kill My Sorry Black Ass! For real! Oh! Alas, wes' gonna die! For real! You don't say!? But check this out playas and playesses, if yo sorry Black Ass don't 'memba any fuckin thing else in this fuckin sorry ass life, the fact: Yo sorry Black ass gonna sho nuff die!
Ya heard may! Love you all!
Okay, you two...
okay you...Holla!...
(Peace! More to come...)
They talk about the royal family and that blueblood shit! Have y'alls sorry asses looked at them motha fuckas? Shit they busted!
You can have the money ugly motha fuckas cause I'll sho nuff takes the looks! Cause y'all need ta really sever that uncomely genetically flawed butt ugly kind of shit y'all got goin off the plane of Our existence! And do US once a goddamned favor! Cause y'all ugly Fam! For real!
And where and what do the royals in England think of all this COVID bullshit? Where the fuck is the queen? The old motha fuckin ugly dressed in drag male bitch!
Motha fuckas underground in bunkers and shit! Done got ghosts! They know what's comin...or has come...
Is it really that deep y'all wanna keep y'alls ugly genes going, to keep the legacy and the bloodline going? Damn?! You have looked in the mirror haven't y'all? Y' all ugly motha fuckas have! Damn! The fuck!...
(Peace! More to come...)
It keeps me wondrous: thinking. It means that I'm alive on some energy sentient plane with my small part of cohorts who understands this is a trepid world. Not intrepid.
One must scurry around and eat without making a sound. Nibble-nibble...oh I better get home before I am discovered out and about! Night time is the only comfort I have you see. I know the price is high to be out at that time but that is when they can't see me. So I scavenge in the night...
(Peace! More to come...)
First the motha fuckas say it's gonna be voluntary. Then the motha fuckas say well in some environments you just may have to take it. Then the motha fuckas say, "Rutgers just made it mandatory that all returning students must be vaccinated!"
Then the motha fuckas say_____...______...
(Peace! More to come...)
You can't change the way this shit's goin! That motha fucka like "Snowpiercer" and shit! Johnny Nash probably gotta song for it. I loves me some, "I can see clearly now." I used to sing it to my daughter when she was lil afta I had bathed her, lotioned (Baby Magic of course. Straight ballin foo!) her, diapered her and lastly put that always stylish pink One'see on her. She was Baby playered down Son! Now lets get those baby lush tresses in order, with this baby brush. There you are! Baby playered down! All the while singing to her, with her and with him Mr. Nash, "I can see clearly now the rain is gone..."
Shiiought! Bring ya ta yo Black ass (and white ass) knees with Joy! That...motha fucka sang that motha fuckin song! I remember my daughter just smilin tryin to enunciate the words. And with every bath, playing of the song, and our two asses being shamed by Mr Nash's lush voice perfect for the song. But our two sorry Black asses tried! Oh, yes we did! And I'm sure she would agree, we did the song propa! Or the Bloody well best that we could've! Ya know?...
Anyway, I say...Fuck it! Fuck it! Fuck it! And did I say, "Fuck it?" I meant fuck it!...
But for some damned sorry ass Black ass reason...You can't!? Can you!?"...
And that is...a beautiful thing! Oh yes it is, My Dear Sweet Sistas and Brothas!...
(Peace! More to come...)
I challenge you to show me a Country, Nation...where it once was and it has sustained the same power throughout our human history? It...has...never...happened! The odds are against their sorry asses! Cause throughout our sorry ass human history we haven't ever started to be Heavenly grateful for we being bi-peds and sentient.
We have never appreciated the wondrous unique individual of who we are and moreover who we have transformed to become. And our great Humanity sustains there. Not! Not, in the place we all are now...
(Peace! More to come...)
One thing that is a motha fuckin Goddamned disgrace: history is repeating itself! And I can't do a goddamned thang about it 'cept putting words ta blog with my frustrations!...Maybe, that's just it!... They're my frustrations! Hence, the Blog. And I guess all I can say as the truth is, I'm frustrated with the ones who govern US.
And the powers that be hath not a clue that: Yo sorry motha fuckin asses ain't gonna change history either! Cause history is linear! Not goddamned repetitive! Sorry motha fuckas! You...
(Peace! More to come...)
This shit's funny as hell yo! You see when one takes it upon oneself to obtain and attain enlightenment, one tribal cult entity in particular and let us just call the other cult "G Men." Now, these motha fuckas fightin against one anotha cause somethin done gone mightily wrong...
"...cause some fuckin body done overstepped their fuckin bounds goddamned it! Now gentlemen...and ladies....we're not gonna just sit up here and let this shit happen to Our Great Country! Are We?" Mnuchin said.
"Give it a fuckin rest! Will ya kid?! Now on ta fuckin business!" She paused and took a two shot full of good ol' Elijah Craig '18' down without a wince. Put the six inches in height and three inches by width highball glass she just drained down gently on her, breathtaking, mahogany desk. Composed herself a tick and continued, "...Where the fuck do we go from here mister smartasses!" Pelosi retorted...
(Peace! More to come...)
These were the new Adam and Eves. Six-hundred-sixty-six-thousand in total. The perfect number. The Ones left were The Thinkers. The ones that weren't fooled by the non-inoculation scare. They were the ones that saw and knew the truth. And here they all were. In the Capitol again. Surrounding "The Tomb of The Unknown Soldier." Massive in its scope, now that he had a chance to think about the events that unfolded after the massive successful inoculations. Brilliant he had to say so himself, now, lying in his comfortable home just outside of Indianapolis, Indiana. He coughed wet, and he instantly brought his handkerchief, up to his mouth, which was attached to his hand damn near all the time for fear the blood he coughed would mess up his one of many tailored oxford two hundred dollars shirts, and the finest white, no less! And that just wouldn't do...
(Speculative fiction more than anything else. I'll start diggin some more and see where this story goes. Thanks!)
(Peace! More come...)
You remember "Monsanto" made that GMO "Terminator Seed?" One and you're done kind of shit? This is what I am referencing My Dear Sweet Sistas and Brothas! COVID!? Ebola?! HIV?!...just trivial psyops to not rival the ultimate psyop: Depopulation then Global domination!...
You eva heard of the eighties political slogan: "Just say no!" Now you know they weren't talkin bout no damned street drugs! Fuck no! While ya playin!
"Just say: No!" to this damn end to most of the human race vaccine!
Goddamned it!
(Peace! More to come...)
They got US my Dear Sweet Sistas and Brothas! They really DID!
DID You see it the way that I see it that: the politicians and the banking system have a causal affect! They suffer from the perilous Dissociative Identity Disorder. Fuckin nuts! That has been misdiagnosed until now! From a fuckin layman no less! The fuck!?
And what, My Dear Sweet Sistas and Brothas, are we gonna do about purging the insanity in our humanity?!...
(Peace! More to come...)
Even yo nigga friends be lyin bout some shit! But hold up playa. Please? You expect more from them? Then you do your kin?
What makes a motha fucka think anotha motha fucka done set them up?! Playa? Ya fucked her right. And she statin the child she carryin yo shit. Okay, motha fucka, ain't this the same bitch yo sorry ass told me you rubbered up?!
And I thought I was yo boy!...
(Peace! More to come...)
You do things for a motha fucka or motha fuckas: Not for reciprocity sake! Shit no! Then...what's the fuckin point! No motha fucka you! You do shit 'cause it's the right thing to do!
Super-silly-motha-fuckas! You!...And me!...
(Peace! More to come...)
You wanta chill yo ass out My Dear Sweet Sistas and Brothas? You already know! '...we're gonna gitcha hiiiiigggggh!'
The joint's just bad! 'Like Michael Jackson Bad!' Ya know?!...
(Peace! More to come...)
The fuck! Kind of shit is this?! Luke couldn't get no love hollerin that shit, "...Hey! We want some puss-say!..."
But this shit is ridiculous! Gettin all kinds of love! Where's the WLM? (Women's Lives Matter) Hunh? Gotta motha fucka in the background sayin, "...There's some whores in this house! There's some whores in this house!..."
Can't we do better than Cardi B!? And Megan Thee Stallion?! Kinda name for some upstandin young ladies? Ya know?
Shiought! The fuck went wrong My Dear Sweet Sistas and Brothas? The fuck...went...wrong!? Hunh!?
Oh, shit! My Sorry Black ass got old!...
(Peace! More to come...)
I love motha fuckas thinkin they so pious and shit! The fuck! "You know I work in the church's library? I go to church every Sonday! I love the lord! Jesus! Let US pray!..." Then the motha fuckas wanta start quotin scriptures and shit!...Jesus! My damn self!
You sorry motha fuckas you! I see you! A motha fucka can only slither in tall grass fo so long befo they exposed and shit you stupid motha fuckas you!
I see you!...
(Peace! More to come...)
So I'm watchin this shit. And of course a Jew is hosting it, but whateva. Ya know? It's entertainment. So whatcho Black ass gonna do? Of course...watch!
Anyway he was in Chesapeake Bay. And they talkin some shit bout "Peanut Soup." The fuck motha fucka! That's fuckin stolen son! You eva heard of Humus?! Sorry motha fuckas!...
(Peace! More to come...)
Okay. I'll leave this alone after this. This shit is...the shit! For real! Really! Holla!
(Peace! More to come...)
You ever listened to this rendition? Cyrus tears that shit up! Fuck you Debbie! And step aside! You non-singin motha fuckin bitch! You! For real! Holla!...
(Peace! More to come...)
Ya see? This' the kinda shit I be talkin bout! Say whatcha want bout that young lady, that young lady got a unique melodic voice on her. The old phrase, "She's got some pipes!" comes to mind. She can sing her ass off! Love to hear her rendition of Grace Jones, "I've Seen That Face Before," that' shit would be jammin! For real! Just sayin. And she wearin that white and black two piece suit. That shit droppin hard! Ya feel may?
Peace! To you and yours young lady!
That song is the shit! She hits notes effortlessly, speakin to your sorry Black ass soul! Ya know?...
Holla!...
(Peace! More to come...)
Who should it be? Me? Oh, dear, silly you, please!
Don't sneeze or for heaven's sakes cough!
Is that any way to act in a civilized society?
Your mask old man! Your mask! I must catch a plane later!...
(Piety lost is always the overall cost. Start diggin My Dear Sweet Sistas and Brothas! Tirelessly! Until Our Black Assed deaths! Ya heard may?!)
(Peace! More to come...)
The truth flows through me as a sweet messenger from Our Father.
Hypnotic, is it not?
A rhetorical query is no surprise to thine minds eye.
(Write atcha soon!)
(Peace! More to come...)
Think about your relationships within your realm of existence? Just think about them?.. After some time yo sorry ass starts singin that same ol tired ass human mantra:
"It's all my faults! Or it's all my problems!" Oft times, both!
Now...with yo Black sorry ass, what chew gonna do bout that?...
(Peace! More to come...)
You just trust. That's all. I guess prayerfully. But if the shit doesn't turn out what you envisioned...well, that's life!
We don't need a Frank Sinatra cut-in or heaven forbid, Tony Bennett cut-in.
Just the truth of what you spittin. That's all, But maybe you don't have the time? Don't have the desire? Don't really give a fuck? And the answer to your last question will cost yo sorry ass greatly! You understand?...
Funky! Artistic!...Bullshit! But funky all the same! Ya know?...
(Peace! More to come...)
I'm alive now.
I don't know what tomorrow will bring. Maybe the same old shit! And maybe not. Who knows? I surely don't. Too vagarious! The moment is...
(Peace! More to come...)
I don't think you understand the kinship I have with the Phantogram's video,
"When I'm Small."
That woman be rockin! Feelin that shit! That bass line though! And them boots yo! Should have broken her fuckin neck at even the rise...But she didn't. Rockin her fuckin ass off!
Go head Lady! Check it out when you have the time...
For real!
And it is...A Beautiful Thang! My Dear Sweet Sistas and Brothas...
(Peace! More to come...)
No bullshit! For real! Motha fuckas live their entire life worryin bout motha fuckas that ain't payin the damn rent, mortgage, cable bill...or maybe, shit, none of the above! But the shit's your life not fuckin theirs. Ya heard may?
But even still...who yo sorry Black ass goin home to? Those motha fuckas? Or home ta that so-called 'Sorry ass motha fuckin nigga or niggress?!' Yo sorry Black ass avowin, ta every one, anyone and no one, ain't shit! But...that nigga/niggress knows how ta swing fuckin dick or throw a motha fuckin pussy chil'! And a bitch nor a motha fucka ain't got time ta find anotha swingin good motha fuckin dick or some sweet motha fuckin pussy, like My Niggress do or My Nigga do!
Well, shit yo sorry Black ass missed that part! You sorry motha fucka! You! Damn!
We've all been there and maybe still are. Shit! But I hope not...but still!
Shiiiiought! Ain't no shame involved! Believe me! I think the ones that have really lived understands. Just like you will too. It just takes time Sonshine.
Hopefully not a lifetime. But with Our Father's Grace...within your own Father's time!
Ya heard may? And that is...A Beautiful Thang My Dear Sweet Sistas and Brothas! Ya know?
Love you all, My Dear Sweet Sistas and Brothas! Holla!...
(Peace! More to come...)
Stay within the range which you choose to be within. The only thing that matters is that cubicle which you have measured and seen fit for a normal living condition. Your habitat. Your proximity to other humans. Your parameters...your choices!
So what's wrong Sunshines? What the fuck is wrong my Dear Sweet Sistas and Brothas?!...
(Peace! More to come...)
I loves me some Detective Robert Goren! Shit! And I don't care who the fuck knows it! Vincent D'Onofrio plays that motha fuckin part! For real! Without Detective Goren CI would have went bye-bye after the first season! While ya playin! And, of course, in my humble sorry ass opinion!
He looks at a motha fucka like, "The fuck you think you foolin? You see I'm a nut too! I see you!" Superb! Ya heard may...
(Peace! More to come...)
Think about it? You want some pussy, okay, or dick? And we ain't talkin bout these days! Na playa. We talkin bout back in the day. Where shit was told ta ya that yo Black sorry ass knew was the truth! If ya pussy, balls, dick, ass...ain't been washed playa in three fuckin days!? Slavin out in that hotass goddamned unbelievably sorry ass Alabama Sun, slavin yo sorry motha fuckin ass ta the fuckin bone...and after it's all said and done playas and playesses, you still want some stank pussy or some stank dick?!
Now?...Now?...
Ya understand.
(Peace! More to come...)
I think a lot. But I guess who doesn't? But for some reason things will keep going like a recording until I put keys to blog. Ya know. I'm looking at the weather now, in early March no less, and everybody feelin good bout this shit! Well, I don't. Not observing all the goddamned chemtrails in the skies over our fair city of Indianapolis. Oh, and guess what, the "NCAA" tournament starts in 14 days, the weather is supposed to be even more dreamy.
The fuck. Y'all remember when Super Bowl 46 was played in our wonderful city February 5, 2012. That whole month HAARP fucked up the weather, unseasonably warm temperatures. Though we have a dome stadium, the fun happens for the fans outside. That day the high was 48 degrees and did not get under 37 degrees. I remember walkin round downtown and motha fuckas, me included, with jackets on and beer in hand. Member that shit?
The whole Super Bowl weekend:
Friday, February 3, 2012 high was 54 degrees
Saturday, February 4, 2012 high was 46 degrees
Sunday, February 5, 2012 high 48 degrees
Monday, February 6, 2012 high 48 degrees...
The whole month of February, in Indianapolis, Indiana the temperatures were mild. In February.... In Indianapolis, Indiana...the fuck.
Now this. For the "NCAA" tournament from Thursday, March 18, 2021 to the tournament finals on Monday, April 5, 2021 the weather in Indianapolis, Indiana will not get under 47 degrees on any given day. The finals will be played on a partly sunny beautiful 63 degrees day...towards the end of winter. In March. In Indianapolis, Indiana. Believe me! I've lived in this bitch my whole fifty-five years old life! Ain't eva busted a move ta live anywheres else! This is my...Home! And the weather ain't makin no fuckin sense! And fuck yo "Global Warming" bull-to-the-shit!
And where the fuck is The NCAA Headquarters? Come on na!
Natural occurrences? Manipulative planning?... Hmm? Just sayin.
Holla!
(Peace! More to come...)
I love the word: languid. Some words are just very apropos. Every time I hear it I get this kind of serene happiness into my soul. Makes me sway a wee bit. I like that My Dear Sweet Sistas and Brothas for some reason.
Another one of my favorite words is: lugubrious. Come ohn na. It is what it is: sullen to the state of ridiculousness. I'm glad ta tell ya My Dear Sweet Sistas and Brothas, that's just the state I am in right the fuck now!...
But whether you understand it or not, that's a-the-fuck-o-kay. Highly copacetic! For real! Quite cool in fact! Solid!
And I'm glad ta tell ya also, I like that as well! Ya know?...
(Peace! More to come...)
What do you say today that you didn't before? Ignore the poor? Shit that's not new. You! Boo-to-the-hoo while one cries and begs for another day.
Say: What?!
To the brunt way I must convey the obvious. Curious no more of their tribal spurious plan. Purely another failed mans' action boringly carried out time and time again, we still refuse to understand.
We just need to get along.
Sing a merry song!
And as always, if together we can't stand strong...
Well...
Hell...
There's always the bong!...
(Peace! More to come...)
Talkin bout a revolution as a solution to the pollution to humans? Lawmen and political hacks enact the exact punishment of such freedom in this unblessed fiefdom to Our Father's Heavenly Kingdom!
Doldrums being repeated throughout Our history without the alchemy of rum. Come another day...no...let US just pray!
Our Father will keep US safe...in his own promised way.
(Peace! More to come...)
Snow Miser ain't turnin out ta be y'alls mothas fuckas' boy no mo is that senile motha fuckah? That motha fucka I do believe is controlled by some high frequency electromagnetic shock therapy, all the Nano-Particulate-Microchips runnin through his ol ass! Sooner than later, oh... maybe in about six months or less, they'll stop monitoring them. Let them play as they please. Then...bring on the "Wicked Witch of The West!" Can't chew hear the jingle sayin loudly, "You! Asked for it! You got it!..."
Come ohn na? The shit is a stone cold trip for real!
Holla!...
(Peace More to come...)
