BigJimsWornOutTires
Fire
- Joined
- Feb 6, 2021
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Being a behavioral expert and spiritual psychologist, petty gestures of humans seeking peace don't interest my temporary existence inside your virtual reality cuckold. Greet me, ignore me; I don't care. But others do. They mentally possess a threat assessment meter. Yeah, disturbing abnormal shit there. But when this crazy motherfucker nods at you, or doesn't, tread lightly.
5 Days Ago
So far, I've been back home for two days. During this period, two mass shootings occurred within miles of me. One took place at a festival we had plans to attend the next day. But that following day, another happened at another exhibition we had our eyes set on. Yes, that was our backup plan. Imagine that. Both events were ruined by spoiled cunts. Then a third shooting near the first, but it wasn't related to the festival. It was Juliet angry over Romeo fucking her mom in her ass. She shoots him, then herself. Shaking my head, what a waste of companionship and love stimulation. But I can't shake what a witness of the second act of mass violence said to a news reporter. And I quote, "It's like the Devil is visiting us."
Wrong, motherfucker!
I call this the Devil trying to entice old, worn-out souls like me. The Devil knew we had plans to visit both events. So the Devil reacted, "Oh, okay. Let me spill some blood and break some hearts... See if this interests you, big feller."
I have my speculation of what triggered the first two acts. Intoxicated niggas accustomed to white folk's pleasant greetings and replicated this kindness to other niggas but instead of friendly feedback, they got, "The fuck you nodding at me, punk ass little bitch? You gonna get pop pop pop." Ugh, not good, knowing the bobblehead is a crazy motherfucker strapped with a guaranteed Earth departure tool. The asshole, another crazy motherfucker. Get these two little bitches together under the triggered faggot rap music, sleazebag pussy galore seeking 'wet my vagina' first impressions, and lots of alcohol and dope... you're gonna get mass violence. Pop pop pop.
About the threat gauge
A friendly nod could raise an idiot's threat measurement. On the other end of the violent reality, which isn't meant for easy hearts and soft souls, not receiving amicable feedback will be perceived as a potential danger.
I've noticed the majority of black flesh isn't congenial, even to their own. I recognized this fact of information: after they ruin happy moods, they become autistically energized and mentally retarded happy.
Three more days. And I'm counting them. But not the days, the acts of evil presence.
Two days till departure
Ugh, memory lane is boring as fuck in this flesh of time allowance. This place stinks balls. Everyone I've crossed paths with is miserable NPCs on the verge of leaving Earth early... but might take others with them. However, the majority of monthly bleeders seems appropriately slutty to men of my Chadhood. But then there's the little faggots jealous of someone like me as their girlfriends assure themselves, "Yeah, I'll fuck him." She turns to her boyfriend and concludes to herself, "You can watch."
Damn right you would, hoe! But I wouldn't penetrate you. I'd rather sit on a wooden stage with an audience about tossing dollar bills at me as I suck my dick; they cheer, "Do it! Do it! Empty your ballsack into your belly!"
Ah, yes, having disturbing thoughts while I ponder the evil in this captured place of native land.
I'm not only here to say my final goodbyes, but to gather evidence about someone roaming the area as a ghost. I needed to see archives that were selfishly hidden from me most of my life. But I also needed further background to support my suspicions. He was fascinated with astrology, mainstream media, Nazis, communists, symbols, lovers, porn... he was also a criminal. Yet, for his biggest crimes, justice never came. Once I'm absolutely sure, I'll relay my investigation to papers that will be concealed for two hundred years.
We have a casino hotel booked for one night on a reservation ruled by some tribe currently known as We Don't Care, Just Give Us Green Paper. Indeed. Crispy green paper. I do wonder if the spirits that followed us will rig the machines there, too. Ah, yes, there was a small win after we arrived at this wild, hot, muggy wetland I call Six Days Max.
Why print on circuits what I write today as a hobbyist when I can print legacy tomorrow as an author of censor censor censor censor. Ha! That's a no, thief of stories and clever slang. I see you.
Yesterday
We've left the place of misinformation. Instead of seeing angry natives and tranny chiefs, it was black. All black! Those motherfuckers wouldn't know tribe and Native American if it was inside their black asses. Anywho, as a peeping tom of the collective, I saw a proverb in play—the enemy of my enemy is my friend. And so black culture is trying to break bread with Natives to collaborate on dangerous insurrection and militia ideas. The comeback story with a Shyamaian twist?
That was a freebie, remote viewers.
Perhaps they like the free drinks. Ah, yes, with ten bucks in a machine, you play fifty cents and wait for a drink. After chugging it, another fifty cents. And wait...
sad miserable fucks
Yesterday Evening
I'm back on the mountain, finally. Dialing........ will they ever find me? And so I begin, "I had been hunted by a mama bear and her cubs..."
The metaphors are difficult for some to decipher, but placing feelings aside and critical impulses, you might...
5 Days Ago
So far, I've been back home for two days. During this period, two mass shootings occurred within miles of me. One took place at a festival we had plans to attend the next day. But that following day, another happened at another exhibition we had our eyes set on. Yes, that was our backup plan. Imagine that. Both events were ruined by spoiled cunts. Then a third shooting near the first, but it wasn't related to the festival. It was Juliet angry over Romeo fucking her mom in her ass. She shoots him, then herself. Shaking my head, what a waste of companionship and love stimulation. But I can't shake what a witness of the second act of mass violence said to a news reporter. And I quote, "It's like the Devil is visiting us."
Wrong, motherfucker!
I call this the Devil trying to entice old, worn-out souls like me. The Devil knew we had plans to visit both events. So the Devil reacted, "Oh, okay. Let me spill some blood and break some hearts... See if this interests you, big feller."
I have my speculation of what triggered the first two acts. Intoxicated niggas accustomed to white folk's pleasant greetings and replicated this kindness to other niggas but instead of friendly feedback, they got, "The fuck you nodding at me, punk ass little bitch? You gonna get pop pop pop." Ugh, not good, knowing the bobblehead is a crazy motherfucker strapped with a guaranteed Earth departure tool. The asshole, another crazy motherfucker. Get these two little bitches together under the triggered faggot rap music, sleazebag pussy galore seeking 'wet my vagina' first impressions, and lots of alcohol and dope... you're gonna get mass violence. Pop pop pop.
About the threat gauge
A friendly nod could raise an idiot's threat measurement. On the other end of the violent reality, which isn't meant for easy hearts and soft souls, not receiving amicable feedback will be perceived as a potential danger.
I've noticed the majority of black flesh isn't congenial, even to their own. I recognized this fact of information: after they ruin happy moods, they become autistically energized and mentally retarded happy.
Three more days. And I'm counting them. But not the days, the acts of evil presence.
Two days till departure
Ugh, memory lane is boring as fuck in this flesh of time allowance. This place stinks balls. Everyone I've crossed paths with is miserable NPCs on the verge of leaving Earth early... but might take others with them. However, the majority of monthly bleeders seems appropriately slutty to men of my Chadhood. But then there's the little faggots jealous of someone like me as their girlfriends assure themselves, "Yeah, I'll fuck him." She turns to her boyfriend and concludes to herself, "You can watch."
Damn right you would, hoe! But I wouldn't penetrate you. I'd rather sit on a wooden stage with an audience about tossing dollar bills at me as I suck my dick; they cheer, "Do it! Do it! Empty your ballsack into your belly!"
Ah, yes, having disturbing thoughts while I ponder the evil in this captured place of native land.
I'm not only here to say my final goodbyes, but to gather evidence about someone roaming the area as a ghost. I needed to see archives that were selfishly hidden from me most of my life. But I also needed further background to support my suspicions. He was fascinated with astrology, mainstream media, Nazis, communists, symbols, lovers, porn... he was also a criminal. Yet, for his biggest crimes, justice never came. Once I'm absolutely sure, I'll relay my investigation to papers that will be concealed for two hundred years.
We have a casino hotel booked for one night on a reservation ruled by some tribe currently known as We Don't Care, Just Give Us Green Paper. Indeed. Crispy green paper. I do wonder if the spirits that followed us will rig the machines there, too. Ah, yes, there was a small win after we arrived at this wild, hot, muggy wetland I call Six Days Max.
Why print on circuits what I write today as a hobbyist when I can print legacy tomorrow as an author of censor censor censor censor. Ha! That's a no, thief of stories and clever slang. I see you.
Yesterday
We've left the place of misinformation. Instead of seeing angry natives and tranny chiefs, it was black. All black! Those motherfuckers wouldn't know tribe and Native American if it was inside their black asses. Anywho, as a peeping tom of the collective, I saw a proverb in play—the enemy of my enemy is my friend. And so black culture is trying to break bread with Natives to collaborate on dangerous insurrection and militia ideas. The comeback story with a Shyamaian twist?
That was a freebie, remote viewers.
Perhaps they like the free drinks. Ah, yes, with ten bucks in a machine, you play fifty cents and wait for a drink. After chugging it, another fifty cents. And wait...
Yesterday Evening
I'm back on the mountain, finally. Dialing........ will they ever find me? And so I begin, "I had been hunted by a mama bear and her cubs..."
The metaphors are difficult for some to decipher, but placing feelings aside and critical impulses, you might...
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