Memoirs »
PICKLE JUICE – Chapter 10
Chapter 12345678910

The ship of democracy, which has weathered all storms, may sink through the mutiny of those on board.
-Grover Cleveland

Hardly defining the author, here we see some of his exposure (earworm), without which it would be hard to exercise good judgment–something well-documented as an impairment of his.

Was it even real? Few believed his experience let alone his rejection of established science. Even if they believed him in principle, nobody could have imagined how far he would take that integration or the story after only a $5,000 dollar total investment. He was a C+ student an entire decade before even attempting the biggest Physics challenge of his life–at one point barely staying in school; and is a drunk home wrecker, fat, angry, broken, scared little boy who can’t take care of himself, with nefarious behavior; and talks too much about himself; and a monster with an embarrassing and isolating skin disease. It was a safe bet to play with him like a toy as he lazily scribbled blurred lines of eighth grade math. That was the picture, anyway.

“You have Seborrheic dermatitis and a very mild case of Hidradenitis suppurativa, an uncommon disorder where tender boil-like lumps develop in the underarms, groin, buttocks, under the breasts, and less commonly elsewhere. These lumps can be very painful, drain pus, and leave scars in the skin. This condition is sometimes associated with cystic acne. It usually begins in the teenage years or in early adulthood, and gradually subsides over the next one to three decades. I don’t know what to tell you; it is not contagious.” Bombarded by talk of bed bugs and Ebola, Justin asked to pursue a diagnosis of delusions of parasitosis. The doctor said he showed insight because he was willing to consider it was not real, but slippery dick only wanted to remove his own responsibility in the event of a future class action lawsuit when the unknown disease with no cure certainly continues to spread.

So on top of his flagrant irresponsibility at life and his poorly architected if accepted scientific ideas–and carrying an additional risk of ridicule; much of his mental abnormalities are only reluctantly listed, to rein in and to efface taboos against the unhinged among the citizenry in what is an otherwise beautiful capacity; after himself having tasted a wide spectrum of reality. “You might be right,” the first psychiatrist said, “but you went about it the wrong way.”

He had been writing his memoirs and when he got to a point where it was good enough to show others, he printed a 160 page book for someone and the staple broke. When he pulled it out, his arm reacted in reflex by stabbing the staple into his wrist in the shape of an exclamation point; all in reflex action to pulling it out, a message from the alien intelligentsia, meaning,either, “Prison is with you til death!” or “You are under arrest!” Depending, it was either a painful compliment, or such malice to get in the way of truth by blood. Dude, you don’t have to share this! You could be incarcerated again! (i.e. wrist)

Scratches have occurred randomly on his body, bones have felt flexed to the point of pain with no visible load, just as a warning that these things are capabilities for insurgent punishments, warnings, non-verbal communication; and not figments of the imagination. That’s the spying and droning that people on television are so scared about. If it’s used right, these programs are an effective way to fight an individual war against order, with civilian casualties only being tears.

Purposely precluding the hallucinations and telepathy, as these things are no fantasy; people who were called and embraced psychosis actually matriculated vis-a-vis pills, to a kept life; but not one free of discrimination in the workforce, as precarious people are no risk to be applied unwillingly to companies–even if it’s induced.

“[Justin is] very difficult to treat. He is also frustrated for having to take medication and deal with the adverse effects of medication. He is sporadically compliant with medications… He is still paranoid and refusing to increase the dose of his medication. Thought process [is] tangential. Appearance [is] neat. Patient not stable. That is my clinical assessment. Plan [is to] increase medication.” it immediately accompanied long sleep, then restlessness, anger, resentment, fears, momentary panics, and feeling out of control. “Only for two weeks,” the medical doctor justified. Side effects of baseless panics, excitability, overwhelming brain searching, and forgetting to breathe grew more common.

One doctor refused to write a prescription to medication that I was forced to be dependent on, because I would not consent to outside him studying outside evaluations. I know better cocaine dealers more in tune to their dependents without having to kiss ass to get it.

The seventh second opinion said they “have made diagnosis schizophrenia, chronic paranoid type.” Once definitely seasonal bipolar–no, surely schizoaffective of the bioplar type. Wait, paranoid schizophrenic.

Legitimacy for disability rests subject to revision in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, or rather, “qualifiers” deemed to have been appropriate for attention by the people’s containing extra sensory perception. Governments themselves were pigeonholed into discrediting his sanity for the exact reason that they couldn’t accomplish the task either, and Justin was a justifiable casualty to prevent anarchy and delirium.

His undesirability, risks, and also the urge to avoid the booby traps of trying to attract the ineffable; then compounded by the humiliation of exposure as an abandoning father, and disgust from the percentage of people he hurt or mistreated on the way to guaranteed celibacy. The dope couldn’t even figure out how to serve his fans, where they would get hurt if he acknowledged them, with troubling and unwelcome thoughts entering his mind about the future of innocents, and also losing many through their own feelings of being left out as he put all of his focus against his detractors. The lifelong constant fear of attachment was complete.

In mid 2015, Justin’s father obtained full ownership of the house, saying, “as long as I have a place to live, you do too.” Justin was able to set aside the stress that had been building over losing the house, because of the schooling and effort his father had put in for years to protect himself.

Many of Justin’s interests and amusement over his lifespan are subjective, situational, proximate, and intimate; rooted in his short career, bar Olympics, cards, motorcycling, cuisine, ping pong, bowling, soccer, skiing, and science. But basically he’s just some socially-inept, run-of-the-mill, big-time jerk with a few good ideas; fortunate enough to hang on to this website; and aside, it’s all been said. The spice lover is quite bland.

The real story is weather or not the technological question is dutifully addressed plainly–here; and fastidiously possessed artfully–there. Look, again, and with every intention, it can’t be emphasized enough: If you decide to buy this book, be advised that violent insurrection is against the law and the ramifications of destroying the government really only hands over any of the public’s power, and really only jeopardizes us in the face of a rigorously efficient economy (earworm).

Look at recent history: Justin once ordered seizure of a building in Libya, so jihadists decided they could do whatever they wanted, and struck Fallujah in Iraq. So, he suggested to surround the city and wait for them to run out of ammunition. Instead, roadside bombs were deployed and mortars were fired into civilian areas. Justin once ordered Benghazi to be taken to ensure peace among peaceful protesters, so it was assumed justice was to take a protest purposefully turned violent over a loan agreement in Ukraine, to spark a popular coup by unelected leaders–who activated a leaderless military to reverse the loan agreement. This is the dangers of speech, and the importance of precision to avoid perversion.

Justin had once ordered the deaths of 800 soldiers of the Libyan dictator, who violated a security council resolution to stay away from inhabited areas, thus to be stopped by force. So a protest turned violent in Egypt sparked a military coup, with even more violence and hundreds of protesters and supporters of those democratically elected, sentenced to death. A violent protest sparked a war in Syria, with calls for weapons to send untrained hands to slaughter. There was one illegitimate overthrow and takeover after another, and mass scale destabilization in the guise of nationalism and democracy; because “if Justin was allowed in one example, then everybody should be elsewhere;” and it continued globally. This is the masked man fallacy to pervert any action. It was actually the fabled guinea pig who had one strange bedfellow in the unpopular push for the fight against the hastily formed Ukrainian leadership, while the goat stayed circumspect at home.

Justin advocated a full withdrawal to protect the lives of anyone fighting on his side who would be placed in danger from leaders of both sides; generating even more criticism. Mosul was next, a few months later. As soon as the fighting started, Justin refused to participate since knowing his direction would be sabotaged. 800 military men threw down their uniforms and ran, only to be captured and executed anyway. The rest of the Iraqi army followed suit and the jihadists were able to take huge swaths of land quickly and without retaliation. Command focused on Baghdad, to protect the american embassy. The Saudi’s, Qatari’s and Americans began air strikes on grain supplies and oil refineries to retain a monopoly and starve anyone within the zone. Turkey was their culprit now, for not wanting to participate. The main aim was to convince farmers to take up arms to fight to the death for their livelihoods, and weapons and food were dropped to both sides to achieve that end. In all, several hundred thousand were butchered and millions more displaced on the political whim of a concealed bogeyman. America concerned themselves with their own refugees fleeing desperation, except children, and to deny them with the wall they had in their minds. The general hatred for a group of terrorist beheadings was met with quiet at prolonged torture at home. Disgust at forced adoption of their rule was met with nationalistic decoration at the same tactics applied to Palestine. Race relations and class warfare took center stage to supplement the other talk, the “evils” of health for all who seek it.

Frankly, fawning family first financing feels fucking fascist–fostering fake friends forever.

Militaries and governments began asking for help. Once denied from two branches of the US military, the core would refrain from advancing hostility (beyond patently implicit self-defense) without the fantastical antihero’s wisdom. Not all the advice was heeded, but Justin felt needed and wanted for a time in a long time. Just because bad people loved him for being so open about tying projectile motion to electromagnetism and the US Air Force withdrew from him for being so open about tying projectile motion to electromagnetism, if they would even acknowledge him; that didn’t need to imply he was in concert with the destructive forces or even unpatriotic. Anarchists tried to tie themselves to others to tear down organization. Terrorists tried to tie others to themselves to cause and blame destruction, attacking their own people to justify retaliation against clean groups. With one group seeking power to destroy and the other seeking it to stay number one, Justin put everybody at risk to hold to the principle that technology should be available for all to see, no matter what.

Prodded from many directions by people who want a fashionable war no matter how many innocent casualties it takes, and after the outcry about Benghazi from many more directions, compressing the assorted intentions of tag-teaming when stepping in; a military reject and name tarnished in every way; Just in would first identify the hierarchy of the power groups, in which he became part of the leadership, instead of allowing terrorists to monopolize our time chasing their disasters and pinning their low-level mercenaries. They don’t seem to care about anguish, and are more than willing to sabotage order at their unmasking. Unfortunately, casualties created a demand, and Sandburg entered the war as an adviser in secret. Worse, he entered in a fashion that caused the maximum stopping power of an onslaught of unsuspecting participants, creating a wall of sound and destruction. Opposing fighters, hired to act, were met with no faster way to be removed from the war by force.

When leaderships started to question what was happening in the field, they suggested that it be made public. Justin tried to be coy and wrote a double entendre about hot dogs (from his nickname) and too much ketchup and mustard, (blood and gore). He quickly deleted the tweet, and his soviet ally lost interest in the drunk’s ramblings. “I’m drinking even now writing this.” The Air Force already disliked him cause he got in bed with one of their own, and NATO had all the reason they needed to agree to distract him with insanity once again.

He began to fear metal objects with an invisible magnetic field, and that everyone around him was trying to obtain its power. He got scared to use paper money, due to the idea that carried an invisible toxin that would infect whomever touched it. And the only solution offered was to touch and put things in his anus so his immune system could recognize it. True or false: The delusion is that humans and the gray extra terrestrials cannot physically tolerate each other–humans get headaches and ET has excess nasal fluids. So when he would eat, Justin’s nose would run, and he went to the bathroom to wipe his mucus on his anus. When human looking extra terrestrials would touch him, or anybody for that matter, he would quickly train his butthole of the new DNA.

He lent his father money to get out of debt, to secure a place for himself to live while he was exploring electromass. His dad decided independently to take on more debt as soon as possible, saying, “we have no choice.” Justin secretly damned him to hell, and his father began accusing him of not taking psychotic medication.

Justin ate plastic to protect the skins of his fantasy girlfriends, because looks are punished based on behavior rather than moisturizers. Later, he did it to create a filter for the super fluid-like microbacteria in his body, so that they were not expelled during diarrhea. He barely drank water to harmonize with the irritable bowel and prepare for living with a shortage as a fucking martian. He believed that the only way to transmit his body’s radio frequency far and wide was to stay in a stationary position for long periods of time. He stopped talking to people, to protect the purity of the saliva, also scared of his own words. The game was that words in every sentence were interpreted in reverse order. “Why is everything I say illegitimate,” became, “illegitimate say I everything is why.” Entendres were worse.

He stopped looking at people, scared of being viewed by others through his own eyes. Eating food was treacherous because he felt delinquent spirits attached themselves to some of the bites of food to force their DNA into his body. It was seemingly for the survival of alien species.

I have accidently cut my finger while prepping food for the pizza oven. When it’s busy and you’re working alone, I made the choice to bandage my hand and keep cooking, largely using my hands and fingers regardless

.

I brought my bike in to get repairs to a broken rear brake, high beam head light, and turn signals. Within a week, a huge sand storm ensued clogging up the turn signals, and the motorcycle was knocked over the kickstand while parked. Functioning cell phones became rare moments, and I stopped using the phone almost entirely. Everything was tapped.

He drove around reading license plates, taking dangerous pictures from behind the wheel. Justin would hold his body and extremities in stretched or clenched positions so when people would take credit for his movements, they would be implicitly acknowledging the pain and discomfort as well. He pretended it was to relate to what an amputee has to go through. It wasn’t long before his dad got fed up and called to have him hospitalized, three more times as many months–from the solar equinox to Christmas eve; from leap day to pi day, and from march 29 til Justin’s birthday.

The first frequent hospitalization was for sitting in a chair for too long (22 hours), refusing to respond. The second was for standing in a position for too long (10 seconds), refusing to respond, then for walking too slowly (one step per minute) and standing on one leg. The third hospitalization was for staring at his father’s mouth, without responding. It intensified when Justin heeded a voice on television to drop the camera into his dad’s lap, caught in his hands, then the police were called when Justin swung the camera at him when he didn’t look at the pictures right away–hitting him next to the lip.

The first time, he refused to respond to Emergency Medical Technicians, including pain stimuli. They carted him away with his eyes still closed. They inserted a catheter to check his urine.Then they shot him with a tranquilizer to apparently calm down. He woke up in the behavioral health unit, with another episode of gout. When he was discharged after four days, he would drive around searching for signs to prepare for the next time he was silenced from the internet, learning of potential rapes and murders.

His father, who gave him a place to stay, gave him a computer, gave him a cell phone, and got angry when Justin pissed on the front lawn; eventually kicked him out of the house when Justin blew him a kiss. He was homeless living in hotels for over a week when his dad emailed him to come home.

The second time his dad called 911 to have him hospitalized, was met by police officers–who followed him into his bedroom where Justin paced back and forth refusing to respond to verbal interaction. They cleared EMT’s to assess, who observed him standing in a stationary position. After disputing the veracity, they ascertained that Justin was either a danger to himself or others, or could not provide for his needs of food, clothing and shelter–because those are the requirements. One literally has to verbalize how they plan to take care of their needs, as the fifth amendment to remain silent no longer applies.

He planted his feet at their cues to go with them, they pushed him, and he fell into their arms. The EMT’s and officers strapped him to a chair and removed him from the building. To get into the stretcher for the ambulance ride, they had to move him. He stood up and tried walking back into the house. “[not that way]” and he planted his feet, got pushed, and fell into their arms. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to go there,” said one cop.

In the locked hospital, every time he ate an apple, he held his breath. At the second hospitalization, the emergency personnel made him breathe ammonia vapors until he coughed, after his eyes watered, with a toddler in the next curtain over. The doctor insisted on looking at her private parts and making her drink large amounts of water right then until he could collect urine.

When he was brought to the behavioral health unit, Justin tried using hand gestures to talk about the communication by touch, but there were no interpreters at the time. He pointed out faces he saw in the tile floor. He refused to talk. He also, for the first time, refused medication. He was led to believe that he had to wipe his ass on the floor to train his immune system. Justin urinated slowly as he scooched around the floor so it wasn’t so abrasive, and so the pee could touch his butt hole for immune health. Voices around him told him to masturbate with Italian salad dressing and put as much of a banana up his butt as he could. Where in jail he was accused of masturbating, in a hospital you’re told not to. Justin would close his eyes and wander around the television. Movies about psychopaths would play on TV.

He had uncontrollable romantic desires for a patient who would sit with him at lunch, who he thought was a nurse. After ten days of silence and refusing to take pills orally–being injected in the buttock and shoulder one to twice daily–he burst out with the hallucination/information that Steven, “my friend,” was hoarding the drugs, Michael was using them on the unsuspecting, and Patrick was guarding the door–three extremely common men’s names. He stopped taking orders about the time he washed his mouth out with soap by drinking a cup of liquid soap, followed by vomit, diarrhea, and discomfort. The cleaning lady even refused to clean the floor for the second time in an hour.

He began talking, asking to be shot when the nurses offered him medication. He showed great improvement and was quickly discharged after saying he would take the drugs orally. Voices in his head told him he would never have the feeling of love again.

The third time a voice on television recommended he say, “let’s not make this any harder than it has to be.” He began drinking milk vigorously. He whipped his dick out as soon as the cop showed up to pee on his dad’s 1200 dollar flying drone and left in handcuffs. Justin had smoked marijuana once earlier in the day, and once again right after the evening 911 call, where PCP was quickly suspected in the same batch of medical marijuana he had been smoking for months.

Justin acted on his best behavior, where medication was doubled, and answered in the affirmative like a robot to appease any complaints or advice; leaving against medical advice after a week at the discretion of a judge.

Partial hospitalization, an intensive therapy program, helped in the transition from the repeated locked units, where he met peers and learned among others, coping skills. He learned that he could decide how to interpret his friends–that they might have been teaching him not to take himself so seriously.

The media’s purpose was to get a network–even every family pursuing truth–to finally talk to each other. Without even knowing the impact, everyone got involved in politics, and people in power listened. He found free energy, and his Dad was able to build a business and sell renewable energy faster than Justin could solve the math problem.

His dad owed someone money, who threatened his life over it. When the police showed up to take a report, they immediately asked about Justin–whether he would be hostile. “No, he’s fine, he’s taking his medication.” Earlier, dad told Justin, “you’re as sane as they come; this guy [who i owe money to] is [insane].” The loon went into the livingroom to greet the police with his hands raised above his head. “Oh, you’re talking now,” the cop who handcuffed him noticed. “yeah, as long as I talk to him I stay out of the hospital.” The second officer went to shake his hand and Justin said he’d rather not, seeing as how he would have to touch their DNA up his butthole and wash his hands afterwards. “I completely understand,” he replied. Then he went into a conversation about medication, and how accepting he was to it if it kept Justin level. Then, within five minutes, he laid into the dangers of narcotics and how great he was for turning extra pain pills in to the authorities that his wife didn’t need. The conversation was over–sanctimoniously reported here considering how much Justin actually cares about his body given the level of alcohol he puts in it–which happens to be the dubious 21st amendment to the constitution. In fact, many of the rights of those in prison, such as maximum sentences for crimes, do not apply in the mental health lock-up. Worsethanthat,whentheyarefree,peoplewithmentalconditionsneedtofindtheloopholeto
evenreceivetheirsocialsecuritybenefits;lockedawayinthehandsofpeopleseparatedfrom
theirneedsandwantsinlife.Justingotluckyhearingaboutthecorrectform,andhavinga
doctorthatknewhimwellenoughtoallowhimtomaintainhisowncourtorderedfunds.

To a therapist, “how would you diagnose me?” The response was, “How do you identify,” and Justin immediately thought of the struggles of the transgender world.


Synasthesia
Asperger’s
Hypochondriac
Traumatic Brain Injury
Alcoholism
Delusional Parasitosis
Obsessive Compulsive Personality (OCPD)
Schizoaffective
Schizophrenia
Myoclonus, Dystonia
Manic Depressive
Narcissism

Theforthhospitalizationwithinsixmonthswastoshowtheeaseatremovingpeople’sfreedoms.
Helaidonthefloortowaitforthepolice,whorippedthebillofrightsandaquillofarrowsout
ofhishandsashewashauledawayrefusingtospeak.Atthehospital,itwasquicklydetermined,
byadoctorwhohehadnevermet,thathewasgravelydisabledsotheywouldn’thavetodischarge
him.Imagineaforeignerinastrangecountrybeingheldindefinitelyfornotspeakingthe
language.Justinthoughtofotherphysicaldisabilitiesandiftheywouldbeheldwithoutcharge
fornotusingtheireyes,ortheirears,orlimbs.Mostofthepatientsinthementalhealthfield
haveadevelopmentalissueorotherphysicalissue,notsomethingtotreatwithpillsdesigned
toshutthebodydown.Notonlythat,hewasforcedontomedicationforstrangebehavior,like
tryingtodrinkoutofatoiletwhilenotusinghishands;eatingfoodoffofthefloorandwalking
aroundwitheyesclosed.Afteraoneminutehearing,Justinwasdeterminedtobe
“notcompetent”tomakedecisionsaboutmedication.Herantohisroom,jerkedoff,and
shovedabananauphisass;beforebeingcaughtonthefloornaked.Theyransackedhisroomand
hestartedputtingpiecesofthestyrofoamcuphisassanddrinkingsoapbeforesecurity
wascalled.Theideawastoshowthatevenvomitanddiarrheawerewaysforcommunication,
becauseoftheartworkdisplayedfromthespiritworld;carefullynotseenorheardfrom
thoselayingjudgmentonthepatient.Lessthan48hoursafterdecidingtospeak,Doctors
weregladtolethimgohome.

Heroes consistently put themselves in harms way to tackle disasters’ spread, but deserve calm. What side should be supported between anti-government vigilantes, a government who overuses military power in response, an army that doesn’t know who or why they’re fighting, or kids with guns facing highly trained operatives? The insurgent leaders never make it to the front lines anyway. Mass media will hold everybody individually accountable at a time of their choosing, with a big middle finger to the troublemakers. Destruction is no legitimate way to stimulate the economy. Hospitals’ shouldn’t have to be full to get a decent paycheck. Prisons shouldn’t have to be full to justify their existence. They shouldn’t be for-profit at all. Legislation shouldn’t only be passed to avoid the stick when they lose power. Our responsibility as civilians is to talk about capabilities and compel the alien intelligentsia to divulge their behavior transparently–and then compel transparency of yourself having better policies of effectual and considerate insight, and hope people follow your wisdom. Let’s future.

│ Politics │

Getting to know the author was supposed to be a tease of an ordinary writer, to somehow provoke interest in chief-yet-unrelated topics incarcerated in a tiny book; and instead it turned into a unintended testimony of what happens with varmint. I am a big sexist. And by sexist I mean not wanting to be afraid to say hi. I put too much value on appearance, because I enjoy symmetry and beauty. I am a big racist. And by racist I mean not wanting to be sold as a slave. I am the most feared terrorist alive. And by terrorist I mean talking about science before it is solved. I want to destroy jobs. And by destroy I mean share ideas freely. I want to ruin the economy. And by ruin I mean enable a fair market.

Universal science upends a studied economic landscape and the only thing politics does is prepare for or fight against every inch of that very transition. With zero hard evidence, both current and ancient spirits definitely coached him in real time to remember what they knew from clairvoyance long before the stories of his life herein, to ridicule him into eyes wide open and free him of the secrets he held, and to come to terms with him. They checked his organizational ideas by the all important and entertaining reliability method of reducing to the absurd, to generate a more clear call to enlightenment–clearly shown by the behaviors of those who put him away like a box in the attic. We are visited by beings that live among us who, by generating a real life heaven and hell, are safeguarding the day of our future place together and among them. Necessary or insidious, forces exist to prevent that day by demanding an envoy of ridiculous perfection before saying a word of peace. That’s the interpretation. The importance of keeping the wrong messenger of science from leading everybody into darkness ironically allowed darkness to thrive instead. However validated by a growing list of the offended; Justin asks to be beaten.

Anger at the emissary is an expected response but not the right one. The correct reaction now is relief. Debate the economic implications; vote democratically; but hear a new look. History shouldn’t be forbidden; comedy shouldn’t be forbidden; words shouldn’t be forbidden; neither should a right to the free exercise of nuclear enrichment technology–or a knowledge of the paranormal for that matter. There are spirits that span the test of time and speak through us at just the right moment; and just as easily as in the moment, there are at times planned messages–first aired long before our lifetimes. These spirits give us power at their leisure to show how interconnected the world is. The people who made decisions about our paths weren’t fully aware of their own behavior or impact, but were utilized as tools for teaching–just like an infant child isn’t guilty from crying in response to a nearby person’s infused thoughts. And the media and Hollywood, long brushed aside as a whore; by definition someone who will do anything for money or attention, is in fact an omniscient group inspired to produce at the level of wisdom and teach our personal impact to the free world–a secret kept completely to their own selfless humiliation.

This tirade is for neither shame nor sympathy. It’s a warning for those who follow to be cautious of conglomerates’ careful crooked coercion to current cheapskate crafts, cold callous contemptuous combinations, clueless compliant conditioning, and cursory complaisant caucus conforming to curt conceit; cause callow command of control has not been completely conceded to the clientele of confirmed castings. Cut controversial conspired couping chatter some slack; Consider crediting the compelled consensus containing the conscience, cunning and courtesy to conduct a concerned classified search; checking to securely case composite contours of capable courted candidates–consulting a clean, clever choice to colorfully teach children’s classes, contest, campaign, challenge, and clued to constantly cave continuous crappy chaos carrying on; exclusively comprising consciously crucial correct comprehensive cohesive cogent calculus configurations collated, account comfortably lacking corrupt cash, and candidly concluding clearly scarce secreted carbon streaks (earworm)and scandalous computer cock [wiener] pics consequently caught rocking on camera. Look, come crack the darkened code. Christ! Can you see?



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