Memo To The Various Countries In The United Nations (President, Council On Foreign Relations, Dr. Richard N. Haass, Jewish Religion) Thursday, June 15, 2017 @ 6:33 AM

“These are the events that are needed to bring about a New World Order,” Dr. Richard N. Haass wrote in a memo to various UN Nations"... with the untimely, brilliant psy-op shooting that happened in America with the republican party, the burning and deaths of ethnic peoples in London's high rise recently and the beautifully staged event in Alexandria, Virginia, we are on schedule of full control and planned ‘Oneness' by the date stated previously.  Keep up the good work all of you in this soon to be, ‘One world.’  Our goals will be achieved shortly.  Haass out!”

The Mark Of The Beast (Anti-Globalist, Kirk Freedom) December 05, 2017 @ 3:33 pm

The beast will come from the east to feast on the least.  Defeat the notion of freedom erroneously twisted vilely into serfdom by the Globalists elite's mighty kingdom; pervasive fiefdom will become the doldrums of humans’ existence.  There will be no choice for the RFID only its presence; hence the tests have started in the west.  Red, white and blue is nothing new;  only two choices of: red or blue because white has never been true; so what pray tell will be you?

The Genesis Of The New World Order (POTUS) Sunday, July 16, 2017, 06:33 pm

They had to crank it up bigtime.  They were way behind schedule and the Council On Foreign Relations told them just that, “Given the climate of this earth, the United Nations’ countries must step up terror attacks simulations so that we can be on schedule for full-fledged Oneness by Tuesday, August 15, 2017 for the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, the day of reckoning.” 

“Well, I’ll be shit!”  United States President Donald Trump said in frustration, "Don't these bastards know to respect the beginning of Season Seven of The Game of Thrones!" To his White House Press Secretary Sean Spicer.

Aussi (Fifty-One Years Old, Broke Black Prophet) May, 2017

“What’s wrong?”  My wife asked.

“Uh, Dr. Jennings is thinking about closing up shop and I have to be proactive and start looking for another career path,” I said.

“That shouldn’t be a problem.  You’re good with people. What do you want to do?”  She said.

“To tell you the truth, I don’t really know.  Shit, I’m fifty-one years old and what company is going to put their given stock into a fifty-one years old ex-optician, office manager and Butler University graduate?”  I asked.

“You’ll be surprised,” my wife said offhandedly.

“Well surprise me because I don’t see it happening,” I said.

“Just start applying for the positions that you would like to partake in and you’ll see,” she said.

“The fuck that mean,” I said.

“The fuck the way it supposed to mean,” she said and I understood perfectly.

“Okay,” I said.

“Oh-Oh!”  She exclaimed.

“Oh, shit!  That ain’t a good oh-oh!” I said.

“No, everything is fine except…” she said leaving me hanging.

“Except what?” I asked.

“You’re going to have to lose the Blog.  Everything has changed in the workforce.  The various human resources at these companies, go online and delve into the internet wake of potential employees; I'm sorry to inform you,” she said.

“Oh, shit!” I said painfully.

“Ditto!” She said painfully aussi.

What's Up With This Shit? (BBP) August 2018

There’s something missing in my soul.  I don’t know what, but it’s critical.  I know something is amiss, but what?  It’s like eating chili but there is no taste of chili, shit there’s no taste at all.  All I’m doing is just eating but I can see that it is chili: what looks like ground beef, onions, light chocolate color of the mixture, tomatoes diced here and there, red beans, epazote, cilantro, cumin…I know it’s chili because I made the shit…but no fuckin taste.  The fuck that about?

 

Like now.  I know I’m living because shit, I woke up and started this muh fuckah today.  But…somethings the fuck off!  And every day that I wake some shit is slipping in this life; slipping in my life.

Quite askew.  But what?  

American Signage to the Federal Government: NO! MEANS NO! YOU HAVE TO PAY TO FUCK US...NOW! (Fifty-One Years Old, Broke Black Prophet) Today

We pay to get fucked!  Whah?  You heard my fuckin Black muh fuckin ass!  But just in case, We pay to get fucked!  And not just a little fucked either.  Oh no!  We pay to get fucked hard, raw and nasty!  Cum and booty juice all on our sorry ass faces.  Some vomitus substance near our feet…and then we got the nerves to ask, ‘What the fuck just happened?’  The fuck niggah!  You just got fucked nasty and sloppy as fuck and yo sorry ass paid for that shit!  Um!  Shame befo God! 

And the sad thang bout this shit is: we keep takin those goddamned wallets and pocketbooks out to pay for the shit…a-the-fuck-gain and a-the-fuck-gain! Taxing the dog shit out of US so we can pay for their pleasures,vices and fuck-ups!  The fuck wrong with US? 

Cause why?  I’ll tell you since yo no count havin ass has the nerves to asks such a silly, dumbass question; because for some reason we think that one of these times they are gonna fuck us good and nice!  Hah!  We some dumb shits!  No fuckin such thing! Fuckin nice, is an oxy-fuckin-moron!  And heavy on that moron part!

Cash for clunkers my ass!  Bailed the auto industry out big time on the American public’s, US, dime.  And then the banks have the nerves to not want to lend money to people because of defaulting on car loans, which the federal government made possible because an average American can’t afford the price tag of a new car or a used fuckin car because the clunkers are all fuckin gone! Sonsabitches.

Y’all remember when cable television came out?  Said that the programming would be limited to little or no commercials because of subscribers paying for the service!  One-hundred and sixty dollars a month later, muh fuckahs got commercials ad-nauseam.  And we keep auto-paying with those credit cards on file!  Ain’t said shit!  Just bending over and takin it deep without even thinkin bout usin lube on yo beat-up, bout ready tah be protracted prolapsed anal violated ass!  The fuck wrong with US!

Then they tell US, ‘You can’t file bankruptcy on your student loans!’  But we can dismiss a company’s debt worth billions of dollars because they employ too many people!  Or, we can bail out companies close to a trillion dollars because the companies are too big to fail, but you cannot be forgiven for that one hundred thousand student loan debt you are enslaved with!  And we’re not even sorry for that shit!  By the way…could you bend over please, we need to get our dicks wet and our freak on…

It’s time My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs to make them understand, “No means no!  You sick nasty mother fuckers!  My ass can't takes it no fuckin mo!” 

On the real!  More to come…

Not A Spectators' Game (Fifty-One Years Old, Broke Black Prophet) July 4, 2017

So, my wife asked me, “Why haven’t you been writing?” 

“I thought about that just yesterday as a matter of fact,” I said.

“What did you come up with?” She asked

“I’m still thinking about that query,” I said.

“Well, I like to read. Just telling you,” she said.

…And I guess the answer to the question is, “What the fuck can I write, say, declare…that would make any fuckin difference in this fucked up world today?” 

I mean shit!  You go to sleep one day; wake up; and a whole nother fucked up anecdote to add to all the other ill anecdotes that have been accumulating at an absurd maniacal speed.

 

Confused?  Shit doesn’t even come close!  The fuck goin on with this existence, with US?  It’s like I am witnessing a slow motion head-on, dead-on carnage filled collision that will be like no other ever witnessed!  I want to stop it…but how can I with my grain of sand ass?

 

Like everybody, lookin at those goddamned stupid ass cell phones that they cannot take their eyes off of those silly screens all the goddamned fuckin time, I too have become a spectator to this life without knowing how to enter the damn human game to make a fuckin difference!  But I must get out of the bleachers and enter this game of life before it's over!

Cause this fifty-one to nil shit just ain’t gonnah work!  Yah heard may?  On the real, My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs!

More to come...

Just Fucking Fetid (Anonymous) 2018

Vinyl sided stack and packs;

No more lumberjacks.

Intra-communication;

No more intercommunication.

Texting alone;

No more talking on the telephone.

A Global Community;

No more Family unity.

Children being raped and pillaged;

No more “It takes a village”...

Humanity needing triage;

No more patchouli sillage.

Operation Genesis DJT 4-10-20 MKU14061959 (Thirteen Years Old, Donald John Trump, MKU Splitter) June 14, 1959

“I’m not going!”  Donald said.

“You think this is all about you?  This is about this family and our future!”  Fred said.

“Donald please say ‘Yes’!  Do you not understand what they have promised for this family because of your gifts?”  Mary said.

“I don’t care.  I’m not going Mom…Dad.”  Donald said without much emotion.

“It’s only an hour or so away.  You won’t be too far from us or your brothers and sisters.” Fred said.

“I’m not going!  I don’t care what you might say,” Donald said.

“They told us that not only will everyone be taken care of but Donald, your son, will one day be President.”  Mary said.

“President?  They said that?  President?”  Donald asked.

“Yes!” Fred and Mary said in unison.

“Okay then!  I’ll attend their military school under those conditions!”  Donald said.

“Good!  That’s settled!  Let’s break the news to your Uncle John at MIT!  He’s going to love to hear this news!”  Fred said.

Look What You DID! (Thirty-Three Years Old, Jacqueline Maycock, Fourth Generation MK Ultra Splitter) March 3, 2019

I was born into a shitty life.  My parents said that I was gifted, blessed, the sorry fuckers.  Blessed because I came from three generations of Splitters.  Well, I don't know about all of that, but all I can tell you is that starting at 27 years old things, nightmarish things, were overwhelming me.

I was being awakened from the trauma based mind control that I had been under all of my horrible existence.  Piece by piece, segment by segment coming to the fore of my mind.  And the powers that be were in trouble.  There are some things better off in a deep slumber than being awakened to the ultimate truth...and I wasn't even beginning to shake off the deep slumber I had been in.  But the pain was excruciatingly real.

It's been six years since I have contacted various authorities about my "perceived" reality.  Six years and the same sorry ass statement has been said to me and my various attorneys over and over, "Nothing can be done due to National Security."

Fucking fine!  Every fuckin body is fired, relieved of their fuckin so-called duties!  There is no justice save for the one I have in my heart which I am sure God put.  No more pain!  Just retribution and absolution for me and the rest.  God's will be done.

And the people in my relative pain are about to be visited with the utmost, "How you doing motha fuckahs?!" greeting that they will not soon forget...

(...to be continued)

Just Not My Type Of Nigga (Forty-Two Years Old, Malcolm McQueen) 2018

I’m tired of niggers that wear pagan tattoos.  

I’m tired of niggers that wear those fucked up braids.  

I’m tired of niggers who wear their pants half way down their asses.  

I’m tired of niggers who walk fucked up because they are trying to keep their pants up because of their given pants being voluntarily worn halfway down their asses.
I'm tired of drug dealing niggers.  

I’m tired of niggers complaining about being arrested for breaking the law.
I'm tired of ignorant entitled niggers. 

I’m tired of my people not understanding that we are truly free…

I’m just tired of most of my fellow niggers.

Nothing Left To Do But To Start Killing...(Thirty-Six Years Old, Homicide Detective Michael Delpher, Special Classified Unit, IMPD) Tuesday, February 14, 2017

He didn’t know how he had gotten into his current profession that he was ensconced in now.  Well, he guessed that he did, but more than anything else he wondered, ‘Why?’.  But again, he knew the answer to that query.  He had been knowing the answer to that enigmatic question ever since that fated first day in the unit at precisely 3:33 pm, Sunday, February 14, 1999, the day he had lost all of his lunch,  he had lost all of his religion and, most importantly, he had lost all of his mental virginity…