"Dispatches from Her Majesty's Secret Service"

And furthermore. . . . . when you think about it, who out there may be possibly "BLACKMAILED" by the threat of neurotic, yet essentially-harmless information that a bit of clever "spin control" may put into a rewarding, crowd-pleasing context "WITH JUSTICE FOR ALL" and great laughter within context of life's improv stage? Yes, when we all "are just making it up as we go along". . . . . . with a wink, and a jolt of caffeine "like bullshit artists". Whether here, or a poor individual bullied "by leveraged information" on some dirty, unethical "inside track" of fooled confidence and sneering fangs, if not "faggy passive-agression" by a bunch of LOSERS.

Lawd have mercy!!!!

On the Principle of Resisting "Evil, Sucking, Vampire Squids". . . . . Truth be known, all you have to do is shine "the searing, humorous light of HONESTY" on the insubstantial, skittery bastards to ultimately make them skulk off "in pure mortification" for what has been revealed about the truest nature of the wonderous ocean and some truly bizarre, pathetic "bottom-feeders" spooked by the higher radiance OF GOD.

Speaking personally as a half-Jew, I realize in a bit of my nebbish, "screwball nature" I can be a better or worse person-- which many out here in this ethnic vicinity "must choose"-- but why "slime along on the bottom", when you can always RISE TOWARD THE SUN?!

So quit acting like a Kike-asshole or dwell down in neurosis' hole where you belong like all the other ones you stand in awe of, for whatever reason-- down the line of your gnarled, unhappy history of dry, withered tradition in the flapping, desert-like pages "of some holy shit-book" or even "Beat literature" as I smash your stone altars and spit on your unclean idols and run off with your beautiful, uncanny, exotic daughters in a chapel of Nordic grandeur or at least cut-rate "Occult posturing". . . . .

And remember that the only place where my advesary's balls belong, should they be out there. . . . . is hanging and pawned before my sardonic wrath.

INVE$T "IN$UFFERABLE". . . . . here

And if "I disappear" for any reason, you'll know "why"!  

Dave Letterman has "been framed". . . . . his hokey, cute, awkward gestures with a sweet little intern or three misconstrued "as creepy" instead of the rightful "quirky". . . . . about the most personally-devastating thing you could say to a secretly-unlovable "Frankenstein" and wounded cynic by a hooting, drooling, bug-eyed mob of spastic insult, as an aristocracy of intellectuals and "THE BEAUTIFUL ONES" live it up in a villa. Of course, they rise up "and take over the world" with quasi-fascistic will! To know what it is like to be "a right-wing GHOUL" skulking around the blasted heaths, all but with a cape drawn over your face as you hear the mob's laughter from the dopey "Smurf peasant village" of socialisim's redly burning fires. . . . . howling from the bog like a lonesome werewolf at the moon: a lost, broken boy confined to the hokey, forsaken, and defeated with his fellow vile & suspicious-- waiting for something like "a great white hope" or a conservative crusader to blast his way "from the boundaries of hell" or at least through the door "of media access" as his fellow bats pace around in the courtyard outside like a cloaked order of brothers, and maybe the occasional foxy Swedish nationalist in pleated village garb like "The Sound of Music", as he plays poker, drinks "Zima", and couches it in terms "they can understand".

(-- "Can I have my parking VOUCHED?")

"Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home!"

"Hold your Trojan Horses". . . . . but check out this shit-rate prank: as of late, my modem has mostly been "unplugged" because the lights start "blinking furiously"-- as if someone is attempting to "mine information", or perhaps dump off some criminally-damaging files. . . . . say, "espionage material", "credit card numbers", "child pornography", ect. This began happening just-over-a-day ago when I **MERELY OPENED** a suggestive "SPAM-mail", perhaps playing into the intrigue of this story. Or it could just be a run-of-the-mill "WORM" attempting to turn my computer into an unwitting "mail-host", yet in any case-- "we can't be too careful"!!!!!!!

P.S: "If Dave Letterman is on this, with that private security "cracker" who sounded "a bit too eager" when he phoned in, looking for "a lock" on my work station, that was "a throw-away gag" that was probably "really referring more to MY Frankenstein-like tendencies"-- sikcin' Washington on me, or one of George W. Bush's old private contractin' cronies. . . . . from the sound of "this Bilbo", or the Marlboro-draggin' side of an agitated sloth's cancer-studded ASSHOLE.

"-- Shit on the Dick!!"

Information Control

1) Have nothing to Hide

2) Spin it uproariously

3) "Coin the Irony" 7 Nights a week!

4) Make your hungry pursuer look like a tight-lipped, beady-eyed asshole "waving papers" in a honking, nasal "blat" of irrelevant fault-finding as the mob carries you off on their shoulders. . . . . toward slouching GOMORRAH!!!

After all, you're on "the right"!

"You don' wanna stick yor hed down dis hole, 'cause you don' knose whut kindsa BOB-CAT isa down thars. He may be Hun-GRY!!!"

-- "I WANT SUM PUSSY!!!"

You know, Winona. . . . . You absolutely have the right "to walk away" from this circus at any time, which I may have dragged you into, started a revolution, won a war, and drug my cosmopolitan enemies behind a "John Deere" tractor like "Robin Hood" before raising the American flag once more with heroic, methodical jerks while singing nationalistic German "fight songs" and paramilitary "Homeland Security" forces pace like dobermans.

You make it real you know!

(Vote "Holden Caulfield")

Gahhhhhhhhhh!

http://www.hollywoodchicago.com/blogs/10818/vince-vaughn-kevin-james-winona-ryder-set-pictures-from-cheaters-in-chicago-may-27

-- "Sum' Bitch!!!!!!"

(-- And a voice on a telephone or a girl on a silver screen "would give neither hint nor sign though it would be "the best conjecture" a fanboy could come to, after years "of weighty contemplation" on the matter. . . . . working his way out of some mystical, comic-book haze OF SHELTERED SUB-REALITY towards an easy snicker)

Alright then. . . . . fair enough. I was "a real prick", and still am by the way-- AND NO ONE HAS A PROBLEM ACCEPTING THAT. All is forgiven. And trust me, once you get on the line, I won't "violate you" with that telephone. . . . . and will always SEND SOME FUCKIN' FLOWERS.

"You listen right here, you yellow-bellied Media". . . . . I am not "a Hallmark moment", a "made-for-t.v." TURKEY for your 4 PM/Late-Nite oven like the snarlin' rictus of Cain's son, a young man stalking the streets alone-- maybe with a girl at his side, "a bit of a prank" pulled on your system. . . . . but to know "the dark shadowland" these truths are based on, and what they say about life in America today and the chances for some of us, "kicked off the track" from birth-- pulled along by the middling flame of socialistic motivation of your milequetoast system, until inspiration burns white hot either out of affection or revenge "or a bit of both" to prove you maggots WRONG and to kick in your termite hill of compromise and SHELTERED BULLSHIT like a kid playin' around with firecrackers and the chainsaw revs up like "Leave it to Beaver's" more mischevious, stunted "Red State" cousin. . . . . "Cousin It" on steroids, from that side of the Adamms' homestead. When he scowls and strokes his jaw like an ole' bob-cat, figurin'. . . . . then leaves behind a grisly joke to let 'em know "that they don't want this condemend property". And this speech here "is the gag". If Winona is in town, "send her over" and we'll have our quiet time beyond this operatic madness that I've been drummin' up like the world's most creative "shoestring self-promoter" and "half-Jewish bullshit artist" BECAUSE WHAT COULD BE MORE GRISLY THAN THAT?!

W.A.S.P.

W.e A.re S.uper P.resenters

What you must understand is that the on-site pressure of cameras, microphones, and third party interviewers only puts on "undue stress" and kills the moment as folks feel "obligated" to perform in ways to please others, yet is not germane to how they actually feel inside.

Please. . . . . stay out.

Update-- "The Missouri Compromise". . . . . What if you sent her in first, "then reported on the results"? Then you can pull in others in the local area relevant to the story-- friends, family members, associates, ect.-- depending on whether or not they want to be a part of the final "rolling tape", with their own resumés to plug, plights to pitch, ect.-- and sell the whole thing with "the skunk's den" of mystery before I pop out of the hole at the end? That's "good television", and Winona gets "copy".

To whomever sent that jokey spam, perhaps a ruse offering me split-rate deals on Viagra while catching my attention with my own e-mail address. . . . .

"No, you just didn't see that!!!"

My fondest wish after all of this, has always been to sit down somewhere nice and quiet and listen to a very nice girl "think" and play the beautiful instrument of her mind, like a cello soloist with perhaps a bassoon accompaniment as they contemplate with wonder and nobility in a tea room of grace. I always gravitate toward the women who are not appreciated nearly so for their uniqueness, who need a lift of confidence to tell them that they too are delicate, wonderful musicians with exquiste taste who only need a warm smile and a gentlemanly nod to have them fly with freedom's joy, as the most wonderous of God's creatures who are frequently "not acknowledged" and chained to convention, without expression nor exception in the gray chain-gang of life's indifferent perdition.

Robin Hood the fox would constantly retrieve treasures. . . . . showing Maid Winona how crafty and resourceful he is, putting on a more extravagant display of his guile of how rich & powerful he is "as a man of the woods" attunted to nature, the pull of the bow, living in poverty and squalour with a sip from an old tin cup and merry laughter as a deeply complicated and checkered "character-study". After all, he did "rob from the rich" to pay himself with pilfered media and the jolly "poor man's James Bond"-style wrenching of the debate, like sabotage. The hope was-- that she'd just sort of "drop a line" someday, or except his invitation "to walk into Sherwood Forest" where she'd be led around to the hiding places "like Tom Sawyer playin' pirate", with overblown chivalry then "a shrug". Because a maiden needed to be rescued. . . . .

Laughing at the Pathetic Notion that Women "Can Pull a Decent Prank". . . . . whatever the false assurances of the liberal entertainment business or pastel-hued advertising industry that shows "you hussies" walking away with a snubbed nose of satisfaction "over we dummies", you're in FOR A RUDE SHOCK-- namely, that pound-for-pound you are AT A DISADVANTAGE compared to the gravity, sharpness, and relentlessness of men WHO ARE BORN ANTI-SOCIAL'S, or perhaps EVEN SOCIOPATHS when it comes to hitting "THE PLEASURE-CENTER" in their reptillian brains. Men live in dark, shadowed worlds where a woman "lightens up the cave" and makes the picture "more rosy" with her nurturing warmth and makes him fiercely protective as he eyes her "with a hint of sadness for what she cannot know" about survival "and eternal winter". . . . . and to jest lightly, or cruelly, or disrespectfully ABOUT THIS is like pulling on the devil's tail of a black, towering wrath of snarling animality. For everything that has been going on around here, and for what I believe "was planned for me" had I been dumb enough "to trust", I refuse to bargain with such parties. Stay out or else I will call the police, alert the media, file a restraining order, and see you in court. This will be perhaps your most costly, embarassing public SNAFU ever for attempting to take advantage of me and sell/exploit/hawk my pain on television. If this is "a war", consider your actions "a skirmish" launched by ill-advised blindness to the whole point of my website-- defiance of liberal do-gooderism AND WISHING TO BE LEFT ALONE from the hovering wings "of the liberal insect".

Go suck Toni Morrison's tits!!!

To "Devil Girl" who musn't burn--

What may have been pulled would have been very unwise "upon a young man THAT TORTURED", when "no means no" and what would have gone down would have been the equivalent "of an attempted rape" before the entire world through the meatgrinder of sensationalized daytime T.V. When truth and honesty with a glimmer of wicked humor is sometimes "the poor man's only defense" against the manifestly more insensitive, well-armed, and established "major leagues" whom would otherwise "drive him to extinction & despair". Who said that a young, tortured life was ever "fun"? That always seemed to be "your bread n' butter" on & off the set, and under this morass of heavy, "deathless torture"-- maybe a character like me "would heap it on". . . . . . and make the (R)ocky journey to cheer you up, make you laugh, tell you that "you ain't THAT TORTURED"-- and you're really beautiful when you smile. . . . . Que sera sera!!

This just in. . . . . Sources say that Winona has "complicated feelings" about THIS FUCKING CIRCUS and is jittery, electrified, yet MORTIFIED-- and is perhaps "laughing her ass off" at this ingenius buffoonery that outsmarts the experts, raises their eyebrows at his bizarre rants "through the walls", and presents a threat to health, wealth, morals and traditional American-Israeli "Imperium" as we know it. Whatever should be done?

A) Lobotmize him;

B) Shoot the bastard;

C) "Cut off his check";

D) Cave in to his demands and/or "bribe him".

Why so ever should our "98-pound Jewish Valkerie" be so fraught? It could merely be guilt, or a hollow, looming sense "of inadequacy", or feeling "bone-headed" and like she behaved "as a spoiled, rotten bitch" who lost sight "of what was truly important", for what ever "could be gathered" from the cracked, kooky foundation of her upbringing down there at "Cult Cupcake"-- "selling out" to the arrogant, neurotic, and decadent trends of a certain "smear" over the years that "junked" guys like "yours truly", dismissing anyone who called "for commonsense" as "white conservative bigots" or "unhip losers".

For all the poor-off fellers "who were left HOLDING THE SACK"-- as the entire nation lurches and pukes on illusion's "bad debt"-- everybody, EVERYBODY-- YOU MUST BE AWARE of how information gets scrambled and distorted through internet channels and subcultures down fetid backwaters. How emotional pain becomes an agonied secular religion, an historical "transcendence" MORE POTENT than the shallow offerings on television and cable news as folks seek a justification for their churning, rabid DARKNESS with a far more ripping, red rage than the slender, measly satisfaction of left-wing "self-pity". . . . .

It's like leopards snarling through the night, passing through a jeep's headlights down a Red-State "jungle trail"-- and how one must always go somewhere with a guard, or at least "a big guy". . . . . or carry mace or a cell phone, or possibly be proficient in firearms training. When confronted, hold up your hands and yell "I DON'T WANT TO FIGHT YOU!" with an abrupt, sudden shock that will startle your accuser. Or yelling "FIRE!", because "that always gets attention". Or saying: "I see the knife, put down the knife"-- whether there's actually one in question, which will catch "the character off guard" and will get him in a negotiating, explanatory mood which is enough to get you out of there like an octopus jetting away with "a whoosh!" of ink.

Don't walk "like a vulnerable person". Move "with purpose", as if you're "patrolling your perimeter". As the old maxim goes, "To secure peace we must prepare for war" which means keeping the best defense is the greatest way to check trouble from moving into your territory "in the first place" by addressing little problems before they become "a crisis". Because "we deserve what we permit".

Natural law would call for nothing "less".

(-- "I am your shield!")

After over 10 years of jumping through levels, so begs the question: do I finally "save the princess" in the final castle? You can bet that all of this manic "gaming" began "as pure entertainment" through many a sleep-deprived, Mountain Dew-drenched night as "a problem" was presented there on the screen and I had "to solve it" through the entertainment of "trial & error" like sipping caffeine through a straw and concentrating through the stimulation of 8-bit HTML-mark-up swill.

I will do "an Oprah program" with Winona TO GET HER NAME OUT IN A POSITIVE WAY but you don't pull appalling tricks on the equivalent of A) a wounded war veteran B) a P.O.W. C) an ex-con D) a half-deranged drifter E) a childhood abuse victim. Had things "gone wrong" with your "original plan", you could have had A VERY UGLY SCENE. I find it very funny that you are supposed to be "in the health & wellness industry" yet could not "FIGURE THIS OUT" as you cycle guests in & out the revolving door of your "pop pscyhology studio" where problems ARE NEVER SOLVED, only "profited from".

And I will not "take down" anything up on this website. . . . . because the record "speaks for itself". Go to hell if you'll try to use that "as a bargaining chip". I don't need you. I can "walk". And if you're going to play "hard-ball" by using Winona as "a bargaining-chip", I can "wait forever". . . . . or even go offline.

Don't play "hard-ball" with DONALD RUMSFELD.

To those Nigerian Scoundrels overseas "who tried to fool GREAT WHITE WHALE". . . . . . "Throw ya' a chitlin, nigger!"

Post-Script: "Did they rent a hall, or what?"

http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-31749_162-20007078-10391698.html

Speculation: Could a bit of Ron Howard's "smirking, teeth-gritting" bullshit be related to this article here in order to get back "at a Huckleberry Red-State knowitall" such as myself? We can only wonder. . . . !

"Fools in Paradise". . . . . The flies swarming out of the trashcans, or the seagulls pecking at "flotsam", or the honest briny stench of death-- yet FRESHNESS that cores out your nostrils, that "which is ever unchanging" regardless of the frame of celluoid or fond wishes of faded, yellow gum-drop cultural camp/kitsch memories. The edifices of man built on say, a California beach are a very flimsy "shack o' sticks" next to the blackness of the pounding surf, for what makes him "deep down" curl up in superstitious fear for the wrath, verily the pitilessness of nature that sweeps away all notions "of Camelot" or 1960's progress as seen through grainy film. For truly, deep down you know that "THE DARKNESS IS STRONGER", as the imagery of violence and postmodern glaze as made popular in the Hollywood culture "that admits THERE ARE NO ANSWERS", but can perhaps "only crack a cute Jewish-style joke or two" to make THE VOID STING LESS as your shack stands in ruins, if it's even "there at all", slimed over WITH SEAWEED.

What to do? Three strategies "come to mind: A) Build with sturdier materials; B) Don't dance so close to the piss-stream of Satan; C) Believe in "a higher light". Visit the beach, but don't tempt thunder n' lightning, nor provoke the wrath "of Odin". For he might "cut you down to size" with his "all-seeing eye". . . . . that spies dirty little Jew-boys masturbating beneath the bleachers, looking up the cheerleaders' skirts and perhaps nods with great portentiousness at adorable little Jewesses sitting on top of a capitalist/democratic "pyramid scheme", their legs spread open and rubbing their clit with a crucifix "as high as the ether" on controlled substances while kissing alt-rock stars "and worse".

You want an answer? Behave better. Or else America's gonna KICK YOUR ASS. That's your answer. . . . .

Leanne. . . . . I am a man of shadow, living between the cracks and crevices as a mist-- among the ghosts and faded memories of forgotten men. Ghosts don't like crowds, and soon melt back into the nothingness from which they originally materialized and came back down to earth for destinies unfulfilled. An undead state-- plastered somewhere between memory n' fiction and always "hightailing it" for the majesty of the river.

There was once an ancient Disney cartoon that had Mickey the owner taking Pluto to a dog show "in the big city" and being scoffed at as "riff-raff". Mickey took out a suitcase of grooming materials only carried by a seat-of-his-pants salesman in "The Great Depression" and groomed "his dumb dog" who was taking an interest in "the prize lady dog". Pandemonium broke out, and the two were thrown out on the curb. But later a fire broke out and "our big dog dog" came to the rescue and saved the pretty girl. Public Hero #1! But between you and I, "the big dumb dog" never got "to redeem himself". Having "a heart of gold" seemed to mostly leave him "alone, cold, isolated, and all-but-homeless". This heart of his "turned out to be A STONE around his neck". Sometimes he wondered "if he should drown himself", but eventually had to cut loose "a bit" by becoming "somewhat of a SOCIOPATH".

After all of this, I had to rip open my shirt "to show them the scars" so they'd "lay off at last" and understand that these stories are mostly real. I don't expect "sugar-surprises" but only "rattle-snakes" because "that's the law of the world". And I want all of you nice girls to understand that where you think "a cupcake ought to be", that you'll find SOMETHING ELSE. Someday your prince will come. . . . . but be wary, be skeptical, and always look "a gift man in the mouth" FOR FANGS.

To my favorite "Mundo Internet Whacko"--

Details are sketchy, but it may appear as if I might need an Alpha geekess like you with your vast troves of cultural detective work. I remember rather poignantly in some misty, distant "post" how you lamented the condition "of being in love with THE IDEA of ideas" yet finding but no outlet "in the business world" outside of the Marxist halls of Academia. Well, "tough titty". That's like saying that I could personally make a career "being ennamoured" with the whiff of Doublemint Bubblegum everytime I dabbed my fingers "in the kiddie basket" down at the local hair salon, making obscene squeaking noises on the orange polyurathane seats and looking up at the pictures of the French models on the walls-- thinking that I would be "Donald Trump one day" out on a nightime airport tarmac at my present rate of jowl-cheeked development.

Try finding the radical socialist dialectic in "Bazooka Joe" comics, but certainly it is "a bleak, crumbling picture" that even I had enough Red-State "COMMONSENSE" not to "string along" for very long. You scrunch up your features like the little genie whose "house of cards" is threatening to collapse. . . . . not helping when I bop you in the nose with "a Cheeto". Come to think of it, without capitalism there would be "NO BUBBLEGUM"-- let alone fuckin' snacks and deluded Berkley educations like the rats greedily feeding off the socialist's hoarded grain, waving their tails. . . . .

Leftists always seemed ennamoured "with talking about talking". Well shut up and get down here already. I'll be as happy "as a puppy with two peckers". . . . . because Lord knows you liberals ain't never had EVEN ONE.