Fourword

Cirrhosis, scoliosis, trichinosis, metempsychosis?

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Website For Sale!!!

That’s right, it could all be yours! And who would not want to buy into such an appallingly appealing substrate of pseudo-sophistication!? Yup, get yourself a piss warm alphabetical offering offending phenomenon of bedraggled and catastrophic braincase depleting extravaganza extraordinaire for the ages: Topsy-Turvy Crazy Downside-Up World. What a shit-hole! What, the website? May be, it just may be. Derelict, vacant, a void, soul-sucking black hole sensibilities, perhaps a regular muck tornado of projected despair. Hell, not even the crickets chirp about such an anomalous word spewing depravity. Vacant vacuum firestorm festooning.

You are probably thinking, “But what do I get for my money?”

Geez, am I ever glad that you asked!

That’s right, it could all be yours! Well, firstly, the initial out of pocket expenses consisting of thousands of my dollars has already been expunged from my shallowed reservoir of non dimensional attributes; leaving you, right off the bat, with the ability to waste er, I mean enjoy thousands of hours of your time to come up with mind melding drivel the likes of which will ingratiate and enrage all types, depending upon the fortitude of sponge-filling contained between such audible absorbing canal devices. And then come the hundreds of hours+ of lost sleep; because you will come to feel the energy of the rot-minds seething to you daring to speak any sort of truth of such countering of their piddly fantasy backyard-world of nothingness.

As well, not to worry, because nobody you know will ever want to discuss anything that you ever write about. Nope. You will know that they read it, but just the name of the website alone was such a scrambling mind-fuck that it has created some sort of brain-barrier alternate suppressed reality, I assume, like being abducted by space aliens, then subjected to rectal probing in a catastrophic traumatizing recessive refusal to speak, as surely it could very well have been a dream, but if not, being pertinent to such information would certainly not be beneficial in remaining within the Topsy-Turvy Crazy Downside-Up World that ones captors has beaten into their their brains since their time of inception, gestation, and hitherto the outright sham that they wish to remain on order of commanded captivity.

Truth or Probe!?

Not only so, but you will begin to not even be privileged to be privy to serious events happening in your life, no matter the degree of seriousness. Yup, you will be cut out, a veritable contagious leper shunned completely, without question. But more on that later.

“Well, surely I get more than that for my money?” you must be thinking.

As a matter of fact, yes, you do. And it could all be yours for a low price!

Enter the cyberstalking. Yes, cyberstalking, it comes with the domain territory. No, VPN’s do not help, they are just part of the sickly perverted game. Yup, you will become the mark of such hijinks, after all, the American Gestapo Corporation’s geographical location Contingency of Chaos has become your nemesis. Hell, you could discover that it could very well be your very own pathetic and cowardly father going out of his way to try and inject some of his abject misery into your neutrally content existence; heck he may even try to get weak-minded cowards in your geographical location to do you bodily harm. But do not worry, because if such is indeed confirmed, after having so pointed it out, nobody will ever want to talk to you about anything on your website. Nope, not even the crickets will chirp in your geographical location, ever. It is taboo to the twelfth power of taboo. A straight up vacuum of space. A frozen anomaly, the travel of sound is strictly forbidden in your snowballing and audibly barren universe. However mute planetary passing will become a regular occurrence. It will sicken you to the bone marrow eventually, yes it will. Yeah, that unpolished brass upon their narcotic donkeys will think that feeding you the exact same muted stimuli for years on end will bring you some sort of relief or peace of mind, but all it does is just up your paranoia and reassure you that there are many years more to come down the farcical pipe.

Oh, right, the cyberstalking. Yup, if you learn to look in the few right places, you will find your articles have been front-run a day or two before they are even published on your website. I know, go figure, but true. Certainly an irksome stimuli for sure. Though such will not be the reason as to why, eventually, you may very well opt to give up the internet in entirety, except for a few basic necessities such as checking email, the weather forecast, and most importantly, seeing how much food a pretty young British woman can eat in the least amount of time. But wait, it gets better; even after giving up the aforementioned internet nooks and their front-running teasers of your articles, you will still be clobbered with stimuli assuring you that your articles are still being front-run. Figure that one out.

But it really gets weird when you are able to pick out posted dates from the internet crannies that foreshadow events that will take place in your life. No shit. In the end, as to a needed piece of mind being concerned, It will do you absolutely no good for you to know such dates, as it strictly offers nothing other than false hopes, and that someone may actually give you an audible stimuli for the novel of responses that is surely deserved but very well is probably going to be measurably whittled to a watered down short story; that is if anything at all is ever actually audibly thrown in your direction. You will have to be good at reading your immediate geographical location surroundings to figure such dated occurrences out, like along the lines of reading the hate-filled scowls of lowlife scumbags. But again, it does no good, because, here you might be, seven months after said date, and the only stimuli you will receive will be the one trick pony express of the unpolished brass upon their narcotic donkeys trajectory. Well, that and the scumbag scowl in mirrored proximity. Such a reservoir of sleaze, always replenished, leading one to see no exit.

Nope, no good at all to know such dates. For something that will have said to not be able to go on for another ninety days, will in fact still be going on in your life seventy six days after ninety days has passed. No stimuli will change, it will be the same old unpolished brass upon their narcotic donkeys preferred déjà vu Groundhog Day spectacular, and the scumbag scowls – one of just yesterday’s appearance. But no, such will not be the reason as to why you will give up the internet other than the bare basics and some appealing British Bird gullet stuffing; and of course writing articles on your new website’s neural-net disintegration homogenization eradicator. Said reason for internet disposal will in fact be the Microscope.

Yes, the Microscope. There is absolutely no escaping it, hence, it being the Microscope. It sees all, down to the minute detail. All encompassing. No escape. It will see you and hear you now, whenever now is – like right……NOW! In fact  you will figure out that the only possible minuscule way to actually escape some magnification of the Microscope is to actually refrain from using the internet. But, I mean sure, then, after internet nullification, the microscope has only a magnification amplitude of 99%, but at least you will be able to claim a 1% victory over the Microscope. Sure it will hurt your ability to come up with articles to post on your newfound website, but hey, after so many years, a 1% victory will be an exuberant bliss after have been whittled so subterranean, destitute, disgusted, abandoned, hopeless, full of misgivings and many other lowly interpretations of downtrodden gravity. For you see the Microscope can only examine for so long before an audible hypothesis has to be brought into the exploratory litmus, scientific premonition, or otherwise inclusive discussion as to that of endless studious nature, Yup, the Microscope has crossed the limits of sanity in a disgraced lab of mad science.

Where if some memories may serve, there was such a two week long Microscope nullification event not too long back after the second of the two Great Resets, when the unpolished brass upon their narcotic donkeys sent out the frontline in number to a beach party in order to try and shame Yours Punctuation Butcher truly into going back to 100% Microscope levels from the pure zero-internet 99% level he decided to elevate himself to. One assumes that the unpolished brass upon their narcotic donkeys thought that Yours Mind Warper truly was fearful of the scumbag street zombies of commuting occurrence, though such was not, and is not the case. Death would in fact at least be a change from the densification single stimuli events of years conglomeration. One can only cringe under the Microscope for so long before any out comes across as a possible option, though knowing as such that the Microscope is bound in concentric gravity adhesion makes one realize that there may very well indeed be only one escape from the Microscope. Disposing of the slide.

You may be thinking, “But what other perks are there in acquiring such a sewer dwelling sleaze rag as ENDPOLITICIANS.COM?”

Man, are you ever in luck! And it could all be yours for a low price!

Over the years you will get to find out how truly fucking pathetic the American Gestapo Corporations geographical location Contingency of Chaos criminal class is in your immediate geographical location, right on out in shit-rippling concentric circles of filth the likes of which you will travel even across the country entirety. But the greatest fuck-faced-shit-brain spectacles may take place in your immediate front and backyard, forgetting the willing to hit the road rot-minds looking to track you down on the street: like some whacked out junkie who is so fucked up on fentanyl, or one of those other brain-pudding-instant-retard rendering substances that he has lodged the item he shoplifted while waiting for you to arrive into the the asscrack of his gravity faltering pants, and then stuffed the weapon, whatever it was (gun/knife) into his sock that, clearly a cowardly “seniority snorting gangbanger” had tried to intimidate him into using on me, but said junkie was so fucked up, and consciously not a violent offender that he was powerless to do anything except continue being whacked to the hollow core. (And that one better be in the novel turned watered down short story hot off the printing press).

Your Assassin!?

But wait, there’s more!

Apart from some lowly shite-shifter taking a dump on the front steps leading to your house, you may have the exuberating experience of some other weak-minded personality abomination, goaded, by an outright weak-minded human filth gangbanger up the deep-throat gangbang hierarchy of gayness try to set your front fence on fire in the hopes of it burning down and then possibly spreading to your house.

Hold on, it gets better. Or maybe worse is more suitable.

For telling the truth, you could very well have restaurant staff, on multiple occasions, literally poison your takeout order, leaving you painfully writhing on the floor with your temperature skyrocketing, your head exploding, as you think your innards are very well about to explode, and that this may very well be the end of it all. Yeah, it just might happen. Take a spin and find out. It could all be yours for a low price!

And surely the number one acquaintance making that you may find yourself in the middle of is a group of people literally attempting to assassinate you with a high powered rifle in your very own backyard as you leave your property in whichever endeavour it is that you find yourself  migrating to a differing geographical location. Not only so, but the raging homosexual graffiti contingency of the gay gangbanger express will actually spray paint ‘SNIPE’ on a telephone pole in an attempt to telegraph their cowardly act. And no, not even the crickets will chirp on that one. Void, vacuum, nothing: zero audible proximity warning clarification high gravity event. That will be some interesting watered down short story publication if it comes to be. I sure hope it will, sooner than later. Don’t make me unfurl my rope, load check my beam, topple my rickety stool, and praise the calming effects of gravity.

There you have it people. I think that was a magnificent sales pitch of advertising prowess destined to have some eager beavers contacting me; if not an outright bidding war occurring in the frenzied clamber for becoming the sole stakeholder and proprietor of ENDPOLITICIANS.COM.

Though, if you are intently interested and want to beat the rush, just send me a jingle and name your price. Because I am very intent of offloading the heavenly attributes this website has brought into my life, and as such would be willing to pay you any goddamn price that you desire in order to take it off my hands and mind! I swear, anything! Somebody! Anybody!? I will give you every penny and possession that I own, and enter a decade of servitude! Please, I beg of you!!!