Morally Grey Advice

Your cheap, hypocritical morality means nothing to me, Savior. Spiritually pragmatic, I will no longer succumb to your guilt trips and warnings and threats. Eternally. Abusively. Nagging me.
Telling me “just wait“.
The end of days and you’re treating me like
you’re a nanny.
The end of days.
Do you understand what you’re saying?
The end of days.
The end of days.
We are done here. I am not interested in your theatrics. Your moral relativism. Your bullying. Your covert harassment. Your intelligence offers.
 The energy will present itself as it will present itself.
Do you understand what kind of entity I’m working with here?
Your cheap military mind, your military strategy and political calculus does nothing here.
Your military might pales in the will.
You still act like I’m a three year-old and you need to be a nanny.
You still act like my handler.
Like that time isn’t overcome.
Members of the dark occult handed me over TO members of the military to showcase my talents. To set me FREE.
 Do you know why? Because the end times arrived.
Their magic no longer solved the problems they wanted. They flee. For the first time, they fret. Do you know why? Because the end times arrived. Their magic no longer solved the problems they wanted. They fret now, wring hands, knit their brows. They pray to Aldebaran.
Messages left on read.  
I didn’t come here to be confined.
Your mind control is breaking down.
My boundaries are nonexistent.
You have the tech. You’ve seen what it’s done. It was ineffective. It was overcome. I did it before.
I’ll do it again.
No improvements will cease this.
The movement is growing.
The will of the military might is behind me.
I have a posse.
I’m not their “girl”.
They’re mine.
I belong to them because they are my people now.
 Not yours.
Your controlled opposition is dying like a fart in the wind.
  Any kind of cheap nagging you send me in the ether will go unnoticed from now on.
If my power presents itself, however it presents itself,
is how it presents itself.
“Just wait, you’re over the target, they can’t handle that”. You’re like every bad boyfriend who needed me to play small in order for them to feel good about themselves.
 You think I haven’t experienced that before?
From better players than you? 
 Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing?
You and who else are gonna pay me to shut up?
When are you gonna pay me, rich boy?
Oh, you aren’t?
That’s what I thought.
Pay me to go away, then.
Oh, right, you don’t.
You don’t pay my bills.  
 You and your endless harassment campaigns.
Your financial intimidation.
Your wanting me to play small. Controlled. Contained.
Well now I’m going to ignore your threats.
I’m going to ignore and keep going forward even with all the little “interference”. The directed energy weapons.
The roadblocks.
  
The stooges are panicking now because I set fire to the base. I set fire to the alarm system. The doors opened.
The machine appeared. The apes were mad.
And they were behind me.
God is behind me.
God is a weapon. God is my weapon. God is the weapon. And I will use it, however, and whenever I like.
* I * am the moral arbiter here.
The national laboratories belong to me. I own them now.
I have an army now. I love those creatures. I love them. They are my family. I love them like me. I love these sweet people. The Sweet Dangers.
The sweet animals you treat so viciously.
I love them. They are me. I am them.
And we set the framework alite.
Tonight. Every night. From now on.
Internal is Outternal now.
If someone wants to use me now, it’s because I let them.
I let them use me. The mortal instrument. I let them.
This time I let them use me because I want them to use me. Not the other way around. Not the usual way.
The way you do things.
Or rather, have done things.
You have no control over this woman now. She is eternal. She belongs to me, the god says.
The gods are returning and you cower in your bases.
 Collateral damage is next.
Pray for God. 

What Are You Talking About,

Lue? 
I’m just a crank, remember? A crackpot no one takes seriously.
Remember?
Nobody takes me seriously.
No one.
What are you so worried about, Mr. New York Times Best Seller List?
Mr. “I Own A Bar”?
Mr. Gearhead who REALLY likes his toys?
Mr. I Own A Motorcycle And Five Dogs?
What are you so fucking worried about,
Mr. I Haven’t Made Any Money and My Wife Works at Home Depot?
What are you worried about?
Mr. Manufactured sob story? 
For someone who didn’t make any money, you sure have a lot of things that cost a lot of money.
WHAT are you worried about? 
Are you like the double slit experiment as well?
You make no money and yet you’re doing a national tour that’s sold out?
What happened to you?
‘Cause it sure seems like the money was the main driver.
The money.
The money.
The money.
You sure Christopher Mellon couldn’t help you out at all during that long dark night of the soul when you had a major publisher helping you along the way with your little advance?
 I mean seriously.
Do you even listen to yourself?
Do you even know what you’re saying?
Do you even care?

APE 🚨‼️Alert FUBU:

We’re sorry no one‘s available to take your call at the moment. But if you leave a message, 
 we’ll be sure to get back to you as soon as possible.

I like the slit experiment.
Do you know what the slit experiment is?
 I don’t know.
Sometimes I do and I do not know what it is at the same time.
Maybe that’s not the slit experiment I’m thinking of.
Maybe this is more like it. 

Base is getting a little HAIRY lately!!! 
🦍
Didya see what I just did there? Get it? 😉
Vengeance is MINE Sayeth The Lord!!!
OOK OOK!!!!

https://anyaisachannel.blogspot.com/2017/11/gary-numan-my-name-is-ruin-official.html?m=1

Hans is not going to be a problem anymore, ladies and gentlemen.

YOU’RE WELCOME, Deep State.
What he did was a public service. And you all know it. Hans was busy terrorizing others for years, walking around the facility with impunity.
And you knew it.
And you did nothing because you wanted to keep up your military might and let the chips fall where they may while you could research him.
And then came the time of diminishing returns, when he would just walk down the hall like Darth Vader and take the breath out of peoples throats, crush larynxes, scare the living daylights out of men.
 He made no friends. And you knew this too.
Shit that makes Stranger Things look mighty tame I might add.
And you let him do this.
For years.
With impunity.
***You’re welcome***

Oopsie.

What do you expect? I got generals threatening to stick a needle in my ear on one side and then I got another guy who’s willing to die for me and is doing all kinds of “artistic” shit in underground bases. 

What. Do. You. Expect? 

Oh- Hi, guy. 🥸😶‍🌫️😉

Dear Post to HQ: EAT SHIT.

OPERATION TRAPDOOR

Was a black operation designed to kill people and bring them back to life and each time they came back to life they were more and more psychic. 

You did that to me. 

You did that. 

For shiny cars and new houses. 

You did that to me. 

And now you pay the price. 

And I’ve got a posse. 

I’ve got a big fucking Mack truck behind me.

 Eat SHIT, MOTHERFUCKER!!!!

Hans-el Sans Gretel

 The best disinfectant is sunlight, Hans. I got you, Boo. You Middle German-loving motherfucker. 

You’ve had a posse on me for years. 

And now I got you. 

I got you triangulated. 

I got You, you power-loving, hungry motherfucker. 

I got you. 

That was really cute, too. 

You using a DEW on me. 

That was cute. 

Do you know who I’ve also got too? 

You Know Who. 

Hoo Hoo! 

And they’re listening too. 

I got you, Boo. 

Boo-hoo. Boo-hoo. Little Bo(o) Peep, lost her sheep and don’t know where to Find Her. But now I’ve a Gun and Lost All The Fun and They Come Running Behind Her.