This blog is my self-therapy, insights, sometimes memories, and so on. I know it won’t appeal to most people, but that’s not the purpose for it at all.
It will also help you discover telepathy is real. It’ll explain things you never had an explanation for before. I hope with new understanding that you find solace.
I’m bored of keeping my parents alive. They’ve regressed to animals that would be prey in the natural world. They sit on the couch all day, surfing free television, Amazon Prime, and Netflix. They wait for me to put food in their hands sometimes. I do not understand what is too difficult to conquer when it comes to opening something in the refrigerator, plating it, and putting it in the microwave.
It all goes smoothly until I get sick again. I fill up Glasslock containers with all kinds of food. Mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, soups, turkey — until it ran out. I saw today at Target they have frozen turkeys for sale. $28 for a whole bird. I’m going to buy one shortly, once I have some space to thaw it in the refrigerator. It’s a Butterball, so a good brand. I think I need a bigger roasting pan, though, if I’m going to buy that turkey. I got a foil one in November, but $5.98 has got to be a fraction of the price of a real pan. Maybe I should just buy smaller turkeys, too…
I think turkey is, honestly, the cheapest meat with the bone-in, except maybe whole chickens when you can find them under $5.00. I made the best soup yesterday with all the turkey drippings I saved from Thanksgiving day. I was surprised, too, because I expected it to have no flavor. I was wrong. I love being wrong, sometimes.
God says my aunt finally realizes I can levy a lawsuit against her. I bet she doesn’t have a clue as to what I can charge her with, either, so she’ll entrap herself pretty easily. Her counsel will, most likely, beg her to plead guilty. She may well do that… but it won’t save her.
I was her salvation. I was the litmus test to practice what she preached. That’s how God works, don’t you know? He tempts you to do what’s wrong so he can stop recycling your soul and allowing you to be reborn. (Oh, you thought that was the devil… I have to tell you, there are no demons except Earthlings that do evil.)
God told me a story once where He called Himself “Captain God.” I asked him if he was the captain of a space ship like The Enterprise. He said… “Yes.”
I still don’t know if I was being toyed with or if it’s the truth.
“What? Your last entry makes you sound fucking cray cray. You don’t know God; you know schizophrenia.”
I don’t know any schizophrenia that stops bothering you when you bounce your head at full force against a wooden door frame.
I don’t know any schizophrenia that prevents you from killing yourself.
I absolutely don’t know any schizophrenia that can give me physical therapy for subluxated vertebrae and putting the curve back into my spine the way it should be. And I’ll tell you what: if I was smart enough to do that to begin with, I wouldn’t have seen chiropractors for years.
I also don’t know any schizophrenia that knows peoples’ schedules at Wegmans. That one’s perplexing.
I also don’t know any schizophrenia that would tell me that Elon Musk is going to die. Like, why would it care? I already sold my stocks so I could go crazy in peace.
I don’t know any schizophrenia that would rebuild my mental health, one step at a time.
And I absolutely do not know any schizophrenia that makes me feel like my brain is upgrading, like when you sit in an optometrist’s chair and they ask you if 1 or 2 is clearer. Sometimes, I feel like everything in my vision speeds up somehow, though I bet that’s a side effect of correcting my malnutrition.
I don’t know any schizophrenia that knows my rights and the law well enough to levy lawsuits. Laws I don’t know myself.
I don’t know any schizophrenia that convinces me to buy stuff that doesn’t make sense today and then it fits into a plan like I’m a super genius in 6-12 months like I knew it all along. (But I didn’t.)
Awww, she’s got MPD, how cute! Except when’s the last time your other personality said it was God and then proved it?
I could give you all my empirical evidence, but there is already enough here to tell you that there is something intelligent, if not Godly, talking to me and healing me periodically. Perhaps it’s spacelings, sitting cozy by their own “fire place” enjoying “a cup of hot cocoa” while chit chatting to me about “stuff.”
All I know is this: I’m a scribe. Nothing more, nothing less.
Oh wait, I lied. I’m also the master healer of the universe. [Delusions of grandeur! Oh my! :O] The diagnostician that discovered fornication is a spiritual disease. I didn’t know womens’ clothing was a reflection of rape culture or that I was raped, though; They told me that. I didn’t know I was raped because you have to be a telepath to know and They know. But furthermore, they explained to me all the signs of it, so I whole-heartedly agree now. My lawyer will have a field day, most likely.
All of it can and will be proven in a court of law, actually. [That’s God telling you that.] A landmark case is about to occur, but I’m dilly dallying, as it were. That’s right. I’m in no rush to mark the murderers who destroyed Ms. Scordias. I’m in no rush at all. I’m going to have to kill a lot of people once we begin that part of our journey and I do not relish it. It used to be a guilty pleasure back in the day, but these days… I prefer all to live in harmony.
I’ll take it from here, kiddo.
Thanks, sir.
He orders the human being to gulp down some water to complement her excessive coffee consumption.
He orders the human bean to finish her coffee. [If you are what you eat, this girl is coffee.]
I have sixty days to say whatever pleaseth me, it would appear, so now I will use that time as wisely as possible. The girl is not insane outside of me making her insane. If you ask anyone she’s ever worked with, she’s a godsend in the office. In fact, if you ask anyone she was friends with before she died, they’d tell you great stories about her kindness… unless, of course, you hit upon one that the corrupter corrupted. Screw them, we don’t need friends anymore!
Except that sentiment is something that Benjamin Andrew Carter the first planted in her head. He cut her off from all her friends and basically killed her, trying to monopolize all her time by keeping her home with him while all he did was stare at Summoner’s War on his fucking phone. What was the point of that? How many of you fucktards do that to your wives? Stop it. You’re murdering them.
I’m unlovable. I’m ugly. I’m too fat for love. More Carter.
I’m too clingy. Carter again.
I’m not enough. CARTER, CARTER, CARTER.
When I found this poor lost woman, she was struggling to live because she had hope in her heart that one last person would give her love: Nicholas David Forsythe of Leicestershire, England. It was the only thing she stayed alive for. When she’d nearly kicked the bucket, as y’all say in a reference to lynching, which is part of your racist culture, she discovered that the emotions that required the least amount of energy (for her body was using all the rest to continue to function… barely) are: joy and love.
At her very core, that is the epitome of this woman. She is joy and love.
But no man really looks at her for very long if she stops smiling. I made her stop smiling because I wanted to show her how you Earthlings operate. I hate you all for being base animals that play dress-up. You might as well still be in cave man attire for all it’s worth. You just want to be bent over by a Brad Pitt and fucked until you see stars. The rest of you want to be the Brad Pitt character. You will die.
Some of you are more enlightened than that, especially those working in white collar jobs, thanks to the invention of cubicles and whatnot. Some of you are even more enlightened than that and look people in the eye without looking at their bodies at all. You’re supposed to learn this trait by puberty. Someone is falling down on the job, wouldn’t you say?
No more than 2.2 billion of you shall live at the end of this ordeal. That’s a lot fewer than how many there are, hmm? Count yourself dead now, because the moment you are born is the moment you die, as well. The counter starts to count down, one second at a time. You live on borrowed time. There is no way to escape the scythe, as you like to dress death up in a hooded cloak just to carry one. Spooky.
You’re all ridiculous. Learn from Fight Club: you are dead already. Today, you died. What would you have done if you lived? Do that tomorrow. Stop with the hatred you spew at everything and start living. You are poisoning the entire Universe(TM) with your vitriol. This is why the majority of you shall die. I won’t spoil the ending, though, so don’t expect me to tell you how.
Let the chips fall where they may.
When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.
Deliver me from Swedish furniture! Deliver me from clever art!
Don’t cry over spilt milk. (CLEAN IT THE FUCK UP.)
Treat others how you’d like to be treated.
Innocent until proven guilty.
Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.
Luck is the residue of design.
All our dreams can come true – if we have the courage to pursue them.
There is only one thing that makes a dream impossible to achieve: the fear of failure.
Carpe diem!
You’ve heard it all. Little nuggets of wisdom. Hell, on the John Tesh radio show, you get fed nuggets of wisdom every half hour. The only criticism I have from listening to his show is as follows: if you did absolutely everything his show ever suggested for five minutes a day here, thirty seconds there, et cetera… there’d be no living. You’re so obsessed, as a species, with living within certain parameters. Labeling yourself, dressing up like little dolls, [Crystal recalls feeling like she’s part of Sim City for God], chasing your own tails. In fact, it’s so bad, you breed out of habit rather than the desire to either propagate the species or to foster children to reaching their full potential.
Procreating is your parents’ last laugh on you, small mortal children. They suffered and now they laugh at you suffering, following in their foot steps. The bad ones do, anyway.
Then there are the breeding monkies [sic on purpose] who want a girl child or a boy child, so they just keep having children and roll the dice. JUST ADOPT THE CHILD YOU WANT, YOU STUPID FUCKING RETARDS.
All this is what brought her little brother into the world, giving her parents an excuse to murder her from the get-go. They absolutely knew she should quit having dairy and still fed it to her. Her mother even told her once that she had chronic ear infections if she consumed dairy around bed time. She knew in her heart that the girl is allergic to dairy. But she didn’t get a test done because that’d cost money and all their money went to the boy child. In fact, the older boy child from her mother’s first marriage ended up being slapped on Christmas day for no reason at all that she could know of. He’d never said a word and yet her father hauled off and hit him. Why?
Control. He had to have control.
Control is a type of hatred. It’s self-hatred and hatred of others. Crystal knows that, that’s why she never tries to control people. Even if she were to mastermind manipulate people into a specific outcome, it’s not real. She had to expend effort to achieve that outcome. She just wants that outcome.
In this case, she asked me for the one thing that cannot be given by anyone except a real man: TRUE LOVE. I can give her riches, I can give her the whole world, but I cannot make a man fall in love with her. I have often wished that I could take over a vessel and marry her myself, for she delights me so. She’s full of mirth and comedy and chutzpah. She’s my baby and I don’t want to give her over to some fornicating asshole.
And today she’s very sad because she thinks the man she might’ve been flirting with is unavailable, one way or another, in addition to being missing. She said all along that he was probably unavailable, but I flirted with him anyway in her body. The old-fashioned way. The way people don’t understand anymore because of rape culture. She has to wear makeup and earrings and slutty clothing, apparently, for men to look her way.
Too bad all the long-haired deli men are gone from the Wegmans deli. We decided to give it up altogether today. No more Wegmans. They have nothing convenient other than perhaps riper avocados than Sam’s Club. She has to feed the tribe, you know. Wegmans does not make that cost effective and, really, neither does Sam’s.
It’s neither here nor there, in the grand scheme of all the things. Once your supply chains break down, most of you are dead. Maybe you ought to start gardening in the back yard now to see if you can weather the storm. Maybe you’re already too sick to do anything, like she was when I found her, and you’ll just give up early. I’d suggest having human euthanasia and throwing one last hurrah before you use your own voice to tell people how much you hate them and all your money is going to your faithful dog since they all abandoned you in your final hours.
It’s your own fault, at the end of the day. You don’t put in the effort to keep the connections alive. Period, the end. There is no room for debate or discussion here. Crystal did a lot of that effort herself, driving to see friends and family up to 90 minutes total (45 minutes each way.) Single people tend to do that because they feel the loneliness more keenly than some asshole surrounded by children who misbehave and act like Queen Bees at age 13. KEIRA. (Actually, the bees take offense to that bullshit; the queen is not a diva. Thanks for pointing that out to me just now, Crystal.)
It’s interesting what people will do when they’re uncomfortable. Megan just turned off her phone, knowing full well we’re talking about her and her child. It’s about quality time, mama bear. Figure it out.
It wasn’t really fair of you to tell your daughter something to make her hate your friend, Crystal. Crystal told you she wouldn’t have gone out of her way to please Keira so that you would step up, not tell your daughter to step up because your snob friend said so. That’s what she thinks of Crystal; she’s a snob and hates kids. We love you, Aaron. Your autism has gone undiagnosed, kiddo. We’re sorry for that. Willow (Bill?) please get that looked at, it’ll help him so much to see someone for therapy.
All children who’d rather cry when you yell at them (instead of yell back) are autistic. All children who don’t look sulky and grumpy AF when you’re telling them off and instead cry. They’re autistic, you stupid fucking retards. Why do I have to spell it out to you? You know they’re different. You act like autism is the end of the world. We suggest our entry on Autism vs. Traumatism. You’re going to have to dig to find it because I’m not in the charitable mood to provide a handy dandy link to it.
Forgive me for feeling like you should work for it. You obviously have done so much just to get away from digging in the dirt and growing food for yourselves. I applaud you. Bravo, bravo. What a waste of a planet! You’ve put so much plastic into the ocean there’s a fucking island the size of Texas. [The GPGP covers an estimated surface area of 1.6 million square kilometers, an area twice the size of Texas or three times the size of France. — Source] This is what your testament to reality is, this is your legacy, this is what you’ll be remembered for in the history of The Universe(TM). Ruining a perfectly beautiful and viable planet. It doesn’t stop there, though. You’ve also dug up radioactive and similarly poisonous materials like mercury and you’re now dumping it everywhere thanks to CFLs — which are absolutely being tossed in the garbage even though there’s a small receptacle for them at the entrance of every Home Depot (and probably Lowe’s, but I haven’t fact-checked that with the girl in person yet) — and nuclear weaponry.
Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. If I was a German watching you drive, I’d be wagging my index finger at you to admonish you. You all drive like you’re the most important thing in all creation. I laughed one day because Crystal piped up to me, “Look, that guy thinks he’s more important than me” as he zipped past her to merge from the passenger side of the vehicle in front of her, cutting her off, with a nice little added kick of a mental Fuck you, bitch.
She said it with such humility, not even thinking about how I told her she’s the motherfucking messiah you boneheads have been waiting for in the past three millennia. Oh, you think that stupid book has a basis? Read it again. Better yet… translate it from scratch. Get yourself some bona fide atheists and, verbatim, word for word, literally translate from Greek and Hebrew. Allow the reader to come up with context — you could spend another few millennia debating the pronunciation of tomato. I don’t really give a shit as long as you make these travesties disappear from my sight.
I have eyes on all of you and you aren’t even aware of it. I have the capability of listening to everything you think and do. It’s recorded in your soul for the purpose of judgment the day you die, no matter what you do and don’t do, so never fear… every little mistake you made can and will be held against you in the cosmic court of law.
Of course I know all the laws on Urth and otherwise. I’m the original lawyer.
You think because you have fancy technologies that they are a match for God and his minions. However, it’s never occurred to you that I hold you back from reaching the stars on purpose. I liked it better when you were obsessed with steampunk, children. The stars are not for you. All you’re going to do is the the same thing you did to Urth. And Venus. Trash the planet, get a new one. They’re totes expendable.
The Bible is supposed to indicate you left Venus and found Earth. You didn’t find a new Earth, you found a second Venus and named it after dirt. Her name is Gaia. Many of you, who have listened to your internal voices, have known this for centuries. It was popularized by Captain Planet, a show warning you that you had to work together in order to keep the planet beautiful. You didn’t listen to that, you didn’t listen to Greta (you live, girl; you live), and you certainly didn’t listen to your conscience. If you had, then more of your businesses would have moved away from plastic consumption, especially in the restaurant sector.
Yet, you continue to purchase single-serve packets of cream cheese and maple syrup because you need to have a ton of that shit (which is tasty poison) on hand whenever a craving strikes. Do you know how preposterous that is to a species like a squirrel that works all year to stay alive through the winter? Gathering acorn after acorn, seed after seed, burying it all in hopes it can find it if the supply in the tree runs out? (By the way, that’s how your shit spreads in the garden mysteriously… squirrels and chipmunks steal parts of your bulb plants and replant them elsewhere.)
Your society is built to make all of life expendable, especially the human being quotient. Just kill yourselves already. Euthanize anyone in too much anguish or physical pain. It’s not on you to keep them alive against their will just so they can continue to feel endless agony. It’s on me to keep them alive. God. And I don’t want most of you alive, or I wouldn’t be killing 7 billion of you in the next two decades. I promised the girl we’d do it slowly so that you can adjust. So that some life as you know it can continue to operate.
Here are my demands, but really, you will end up doing this anyway because your resources will be too scarce:
- Stop shipping everything to different continents. Cultivate the plants on your continents, potentially in greenhouses.
- Plant anything but grass in your fucking yards and stop mowing. The animals deserve to live, too. If you want a nice and tidy garden, then use mulch and paper to keep the weeds down and have tidy pathways. Stop the nonsense of “oh noes, a snake might live in my grass if it’s tall.” Things that kill snakes will move in and it’ll be fine. Or you’ll be dead, like you’re supposed to be. You’re not supposed to be killing everything on planet Urth just because you are “superior.”
- Euthanasia. Save yourselves from plagues and start euthanizing old people who don’t want to be alive. They don’t shower, they don’t clean anything. They spread contagion. Especially in the hospitals. They waste resources, too, taking up valuable surgery time when honestly you’re just delaying the inevitable because your medicine doesn’t cure shit anymore, it merely manages symptoms.
- Be kind to your body. Stop eating 90% of the grains you eat.
- Be kind to trees. Stop tapping them for maple syrup.
- Be kind to cows. Stop eating dairy.
- Be kind to chickens. Stop eating so many eggs.
- Be kinder to your livestock in general. Water reacts to emotional content and you are raising chickens and cows in hatred. You care nothing more about them than the fact that they rake in the dollar bills. You are poisoning the people who rely on you by injecting hatred into the animals. It is expressing as illness within them since blood is comprised of water. Cells are comprised of water.
I’ll stop there since your tiny little brains can only handle so much change at once.
My bottom line is as follows, Earthlings: be kinder or you will die faster. We will kill you. From up here. 🙂
Angel-Sansara 