Alas (Broke Black Prophet) Wednesday, June 3, 2020

Tribalism is the schism, no criticism as the globalization agenda is heading into a favorable direction to the road to hell.  The sale has been sold, foretold in Revelations over and over without coming across a four leaf clover.  Fair weather is not the tether to whether we are right or in errors to these erroneous terrors; severs the humanoids from the androids amid cell phones and drones devoid of humanity and causing worldwide confusion and insanity. 

Muslims, Jews, Christians...are just the predilection, called rational predation, to the obvious pervasive infections, predictions to the pseudo diction and dictations of the scribes gone bye now un-scribes to the ubiquitous lies. 

Say, "Goodbye!" Sigh! As a matter of fact go ahead, do a well needed stopping and of asking oneself, "I wonder why?"

Just remember: it's gonna take numerous human blood sacrifices to satisfy; the Luciferian battle cry.

666,000,000 (Globalization, WHO...and You) April 01, 2020

There were three stages to the neutralization.  The first was almost complete. They would just have to tweak the agenda a wee bit, but other than that the Americans were falling into place just fine.  'Land of the free!  Home of the brave," my ass Director General Doctor Tedros Adhanom Gebreyesus derided to himself.  He had found out through his many so called 'Health Crises' in Ethiopia that all an individual needs is a little push.  Dick Hauss had challenged him about the first stage of neutralization and he, Dr. Gebreyesus from his humble beginnings had to educate a Semite, he, Doctor Tedros Adhanom Gebreyesus, himself being well respected because he came from the Beta Israel Tribe who were descendants of Shem.  And he had to deride to himself to this fake Ashkenazi  Judaism individual, Dick Hauss,  the real reason why Dick was in the world's mix at all.  We, my people, were the real deal, not...and let me repeat...not you fake ass Ashkenazi Zionist Jew asses! That got Dick's attention.

Doctor Gebreyesus, rhymed with Jesus, did he need any other qualifications than that?  And since you didn't understand Dick, my people have been in the equation since the beginning of humans' time.  So he was not surprised by the deference he was treated by Dick when he was asked about the timeline.  He had gotten Dick in line a long time ago, fucking goy for real. The Beta Israel Jews were the Real Jews, and soon the Zionist Jews would be aware of that fact.

Instead of showing his disdain for Dick's tribe, he just stated casually, " Neutralization is going just fine on a global scale just as we planned. It will not be too much longer where neutralization will be complete."

"Excellent," Hauss responded.

'And not too much longer where your fake ass Jew asses will be punished," Doctor Gebreyesus scoffed again to himself at the hopeful lost Semite Dick Hauss...( to be continued...) 

COVID And The Round Table (Astana, Kazakhstan, Thursday, March 26, 2020 at 12:30 am)

Everyone was discombobulated, they had caught the world off guard with their antics.  Brilliant PsyOp to be sure.  The Round Table had everyone on their heels.  Italy was the focal point of what happened if one did not succumb to government rules and regulations.  Dissenters were unheard of.  Brilliant!  If he had to say so himself.

Richard Haas looked around the table of 33 and smiled widely.  Dick’s heart warmed when all 32 mouths were smiling with just as much ebullience as his.  He nodded his appreciation to all, held his right pinky ring up as did the other 32, all the rings having a, gold ‘G’ in the center accompanied with a gold compass pointing up and a gold square pointing down, forming a diamond shape with the centered letter, ‘G’, with everyone’s assent, with Pinkies held high, he roared in a grandiose manner, “COVID-19 is a success!  Welcome to the beginning of the end!”  All clapped loudly and cheered, and even Dick had to give himself a, Rah-Rah too. It had been a long time coming.  But there was still a lot of work to be done.  And none of them would have ever guessed that it would be this easy.(...to be continued)

I. K. Now, Supreme Masonic Vocal Council Member, Year 0333 AREMPF (After Revelation Electromagnetic Pulse Fallout)

We found out, quite too late of course, that the endless amount of wireless impulses going through our living environment was causing a tremendous amount of stress to the human form; like a microwave oven used to do…you all do remember those? Good… with food products, those same electrical impulses going through our bodies trying to penetrate whatever that matter, in this case our precious entities, was in front of those volatile impulses eventually they go through that matter, being hell bent on  getting  to its various connective sources and beyond, in the interim our bodies were being denatured; being broken down, more and more by the energy engulfing and passing through our human forms, destroying that form faster and faster;  what we know now as, Clandestine Subsonic Ultra Waves of Ventricular Vibrations or CSUWV2.  

The ones in the past that were, well… let me put it in the rarest of truth, killing themselves without knowledge of the cloaked danger they had created.
  

And so we are here today, our honorable Council members of Thirteen, to instill teachings from the scribes of old which we can clearly see with our characteristically gaunt facial features and bulbous heads.  We have learned to diminish that energy going through our bodies, as in days’ pasts, by telepathically communicating.  But that has had its dangers too.  By us not vocalizing our thoughts we have transformed, in my opinion, to an unattractive race because of our wondrous ignorance.  We know and see what has been and what we have become.  Yet, we still have been disobedient from our past knowledge.  Working in adverse instead of being responsible; hence, the reason I am speaking to all of you, Great and Honorable Council members of Thirteen.  We can change our present and make a better future; but we have to...no must, sustain the human form...cause we lookin ugly!

(to be continued...)

Running Out Of The Cold - 457

It's a jungle out here! It's a jungle out here!
The seasons never change and are quite queer!
The cold is always pervasive, persuasive, invasive...giving me frostbite; a fire light will never be able to return life back into my fingers, my phalanges of shame.
Oh, so frigid!
Frozen solid as the melting pot has been made into a tossed salad, turned into a side dish of a remorseful wish; dressing included for all of the poor quasi bought and sold druids watching the plethora of white opaque ubiquitous icicles form on the surface of the diverse human noses. Predisposed, I must propose.  My feet finally being able to feel, trying to steal another life that was stolen; able to turn on my heals finally, as the warmth overtakes me; awakens me from the hibernated comatose state my mind has been liquid nitrogen-ed infused and confused to try to make me sin. 
Running now to flee, while the cold nips at my close wake.  Never to overtake again. 
Until I am ready to vanish from within!

Corona Familiar (La Cerveza Mas Fina, Lager) Dr. Kirk Kurtis Keith III, Refined Beer Blogger Administrator of The Blog: Beer You! Beer Me!, Posted: Saturday, June 6, 2020 at 6:33 PM

Shee-ought!  I don’t know what tah tell yah?  I really don’t! I’m not gonna do none of that snobbish motha fuckin bullshit takin yo ass on a borin taste test with that tired ol’ ‘Appearance, Smell, Taste, Mouthfeel…bullshit!  Fuck you Boo-Boo…if that is what yo tired ass is spectin ta read cause I loves ta tell ya, but…no!  We don’t roll on this blog like that!  Fuck that and “The Cat in the Hat”!  What I do, do, is to tell you a story and hope the hell I can make you taste what I am expressing with the story as we unveil the following find:

I popped the cap of the chilled at 38 degrees Fahrenheit, ‘Corona Familiar,’ from (yes, I am straight beer ballin like that with my temperature-controlled beer refrigerator thank you very much) my cooler; you heard me correct-fuckin-leet-lee!  Drank it straight from the bottle son!  It be like that sometime when a nigga been workin at ImaSon ten hours a day fo the past five days for Massa Iman Beetus, in a hundred degree or more warehouse environment!  So fuck those trivialities of proper etiquette of beer tasting and all that bull…shit! Took a proper swig.  Held it…instantly I am on an island.  It is hot as fuck!  I look over and my wife is coming toward me, cocktail in her right hand and this brown bottle in the left hand, smiling, curvy body on point, sashaying, coming closer finally she jokes, ‘Is this seat taken?’  I smile at her and respond, ‘Always…with yo ass in it!’  She lets out a howl of a laugh as she sits into the chaise next to me with her left hand extended with a brown beer bottle.  I accept it of course.  We ‘Cheers.’  I drink this shit!  Now that’s what I’m talkin bout!  We both look at one another.  As if on key, we raise our perspective sunglasses so we can witness one and the other's eyes, close one of our perspective eyes in a loving wink.  Put sunglasses back into proper position.  Sit back.  Tack a sip of this lager. We both stare out, sitting on this beach, onto the ocean at nothing and everything!  I fist pump! And look up at the clear blue heavenly pure sky sans a hint of a Chem-trail and think happily to myself:  Life… is good!  And I hope that makes yo ass thirsty as hell!  Prost muh fuckah!

You Ain't Evah Been No Real 'Rican, (Twenty-Three Years Old, Samuel Shabazz, Youtuber) Wednesday, January 1, 2020 at 3:33 Am

White Eskenazis’ been ownin slaves since the beginning of humankind and shit!  Of course yo, sorry masta all the time havin slave ass is tryin ta deny it now the money has been made and the shit is done, son! Course yo ass tryin ta rewrite histry an shit!  But I’m one of the few dissenters.  I don’t claim to know you.  Shit no!  But I expertly understand yo sorry wantin ta have slaves again motha fuckin asses!

“Those niggers just love that watermelon!”  Y’all sorry motha fuckas Scoff!  Shit!  Fuck you boo-boo!  Y’all Eskenazi jew asses are the ones that made us falls in loves with the tasty succulent motha fucka!  You gave it to Our sorry asses as an aphrodisiac, and heavy on that aphro!  Now motha fuckas, Dr. Oz et al…wanta rewrite histry and shit and say, ‘Eating watermelon can cure your ED!’ You think?  If the only thing yo Black ass has ta look forward to is some good ol’ tasty sweet succulent watermelon, because yo black slavin ass can’t gets to no LQ to buy a fifth of Bumpy Face to cure the days Black Nuts and Black Vagina kickin aftah eighteen hours in the damn Alabama, Mississippi hellacious, oppressive as fuck motha fuckin heat, then the only thing yo Black slavin ass is stuck with, Massa seems to give us whenever we wants…watermelon, motha fucka!  Yo Black ass gonna love, and yo offspring's are gonna grow up lovin, that good ol' hard dick makin 'coon melon'!  That shit don't need no contemporary doctors to make mah fuckahs understand what those mah fuckahs under-fuckin-stood way back 'fo nineteen-ought-ought!  Sheee-it!

So we's can makes otha Black slavin asses...deriding notwithstanding, then why the fuck wouldn’t niggas ta this day, loves them some watermelon?  Super-silly-motha-fuckas!

Let's Take A Ride ( Radio Broadcast: #334/Sunday, December 1, 2019) MSHCirca 2000, FM 103.3 WYOY, Indianapolis, Indiana

What kind of music do you like?  Chill music?  Solid.  Hop on in.  There you go.  Take a load off.  You gotsta roll with leatha baby!  Ya heard may!  You comfortable and shit?  You are?  Excellent, even?  Well, you ain’t said nothin but, “Go!”  It’s a four-hour journey, two hours there and two hours back.  You cool with that?  Now, that’s what I’m talkin bout!  You mind if I put the top down, it’s just a beautiful night?  Your hair?  Hah!  With hair or without hair, yo ass is fine!  So, top down or top stays up?  Now, that’s what I’m talkin bout times two!  I let the top down along with the side windows and instantly the blessed Summer semi-cool breeze came rushing into the ride.  We look at each other.  She nods.  Time to roll…Put the turn signal on, cue the music: The Doo Bop Song by Miles Davis… 

You Knew Motha Fucka! Now, Don't Sit Up There And Lie Now Motha Fucka! Cause You The Fuck Knew! (Twenty-Three Years Old, Gale Galz) After Indiana Passed The 'DID it for the Indiana Soldiers' Campaign To Successfully Legalize Marijuana In The State Of Indiana, Friday, September 11, 2020

So what are you going to do now my brothah?  Hunh?  I mean shit the warning signs were there, ‘High priced weed with high priced consequences.”  Ain’t nobody lied to nobody at this point. 

“I understand the contract which I am signing; buying this quad for 500 dollars, with not a hint of duress.”  Yo broke ass sees that! Signed that shit!  And bought that same shit!  Shit!  God damn!  We all adults in this motha fucka!  “Shit!  Goddamn!  Get off yo ass and jam… “Live and in motha fuckin colah!  Motha fucka!

 

Butcha see, I’s ain’t in control of my life.  I don’t have any rights.  I don’t have enough to make a difference…and you see, I don’t have any control over my vices;  I’m the…poor…The fuck wrong with you?  I, and especially those motha fuckas, goin tah feel sorry with those ‘Swing low/ Sweet Chariot…’ bullshit words?!  Cause er’body know up in this bitch!  Come ohn naw!?  We bees’ a-dults. Don't front, er'body-the-fuck-knows…

Can't Hold Back The Years (Twenty-One Years Old, Carl Cutler, Senior Year Philosophy Major, Fairview House, Butler University) Wednesday, January 1, 2020 at 12:12am

What’s your motivation?  Or better yet, ‘What is my motivation?’.  To keep a motha fucka waking up every God damned day to do the same thing over and over again until one dies… well… until 65 years old, but what the fuck is the difference at that point!  They done used all the good years of You up; with yo now old retired tired no good ass!  Uhm!  Just look at your sorry ass!  Shame fo Our Father!

"Rules To Live By," Marques Matthews aka 'Rocky Mountain High' Blogger, Article Submitted and Published by Weekly Publication, Denver, Colorado based, "High On The Mountaintop," Sunday, August 2, 2020

She said I could hit it.  So I hit it!  Good!

Took the aforementioned hit from my hangin partna Toshelle, she handin it to me solidly, respecting the proper etiquette of passing: it, situated between one’s index and thumb; extend hitting hand and arm to passee, the passee should have or either’s should have already extended the hand which Passer is of course passing at this point to said Passee, shit.  Maybe I should have called you with this shit.  This texting this bullshit is a fuckin bitch for real!  Well…fuck it! And when the Passer feels the Passees’  index finger and thumb against the Passees,’ the Passer retracts thumb and presses the contacted tip that is against the index finger tip of the hit against the Passees index finger, so Passee can secure it with their given now closed upon thumb, secured.  But if the motha fucka you hangin with is left handed the opposite would be in play.  What's that?  Shit!  Come ohn naw!  Yo ass shouldn't be high this early and on a fuckin, for most of US, a fucking worship day!  But proper pass my Brothas and Sistahs like I was sayin before I was so not coolly interrupted.  But anyway, old school for real.  You can tell a person is old school or hangs around old school just how a person passes hits and take hits, ain’t that some shit?

...Anyway, It was Toshelle’s shit, not mine.  She supplyin the shit for the both of us.  That was the cool nature of our friendship: when she was up I was up and when I was up she was up.  Beautiful right.  So I pulled hard as fuck, shit nigga ain’t had shit in a while, now come on naw, it ain’t that I was tryin ta be greedy and shit like that.  This motha fucka ain’t the fuck like that at all!  That’s bullshit any time of day!  But it’s part of my story.  And the whole reason I’m telling this story is because of the point.  Without a point one could not pierce they would be left only to bludgeon.  And like my daughter used to say, “That not nice...”

Back to the hit…Inhaled mightily like I was sayin, held that shit and proper passed Toshelle.  Now she hittin the shit, but kind of light which I am takin notice of.  She extends the hit back to me, I cut my right hand across my throat, as to say, I forfeit my hit this round.  She smiles at me and says, “Boy you still holdin that shit?  Goddamn!”  

I nod at Tosh, and start to speak to her around the held inhalation, “My Mommy used to say: ‘Treat peoples’ shit better than your shit.’  And I wouldn’t expect anything different from you, Tee,” while exhaling I continue to and say, “Words to live by,” with a period put on the exhalation by the exhaled hit now pristinely pure again, sans fumes. Exhalation now complete.

Toshelle just looking at me like, 'The Fuck."  She finally hits the hit again, still while looking at me, now smiling.  I liked when she smiled.  She wasn't attractive at all looking at her face,  one had to look beyond her face to see how beautiful Tosh is and the even more pure beauty about Tosh is that she has not a clue of her stunning essence, and Tosh says,  "I really like your ass!  Well, shit, I can honestly say...I love yo ass!  You my motha fucka!  But I hate you all the same nigga!  And I hope to hell I'm makin some sense to you," as she extended her right passing hand to my receptive right hand. I nodded again at Tosh. Proper pass complete. And just before pulling, I winked at her and said, "And I understand..."

Scent Basting (Broadcast #: 333/ Saturday, November 30, 2019) MSHCirca 2000, FM 103.3 WYOY, Indianapolis Indiana

This is the day of a big date.  The fuck!  Man, listen, yo ass overthinkin' some shit.  Ain't that deep.  For real.  Man or woman, who gives a real fuck!  It's ah bout chew boo-boo!  So...whatever?  The day you and another person of interest decide to get together, from the time you get up, until yo ass picks that mothah fuckah up, yo ass should be bastin.  What is "Basting"?  You asks.  It is applying the scents that you have ascertained and applying those same ascertained scents every forty-five minutes or up to an hour, from the time you wake in the morning up until you go on that special date. 

And about time you go on that date the other mother fucker will either say, I am going to fuck the shit out of this motha fucka!...  Or, I can't stand the smell of...