The gospel of Itchy Wiggle Christ by Gregory-John McCormick, Ralf Dellhofen (best way to read books .TXT) 📕

a small black-haired 5 years old boy sitting in the back, he did not get hit by the flying guillotine, he could never be hit by the flying guillotine, the memory he represents, the total goodness of that child´s memory is too strong to be destroyed by a crazy old chinese nazi-bib bus driver. that memory is of the little boy eating toast and jelly with his father on a sunday morning while watching cartoons. the old chinese nazi-bib driver gets a flash of this memory and is totally incensed. he is driven crazy with anger by this thoughts, this one good thought that he cannot destroy. the little boy has tears in his eyes but he will not cry, he draws strength from the memory he represents. the crazy blind chinese nazi-baby-bib sociopathic memory-killer must put an end to this goodness that infects his bus of the damned. there is no room in this wicked ugly world for good things and good memories. no, this world must be filled with ugliness and unfairness and diseased spirits bent on crushing all hope. so the crazy nazi-bib head chopper screams, "THIS IS THE END NOW, GREGGY, SAY GOODBYE TO ALL OF THIS, HAH HA HA" and he drives the bus over a cliff, it falls 1000 feet and explodes, killing them both.

 

i can see the end. i can feel it as my senses and thoughts go numb. i am starting to not care anymore about what happens to me. this is a sign that my spirit is dying. once my spirit was as bright as a super-nova, now it is a sputtering candle that will soon go out. when that happens, i will become one with this corrupt filthy retarded world. i will become one of the mindless masses, the big-mac eating stupid fucks, yea!

 

there´s a distinct possibility that "human" beings are a total mistake to see the shit that i see everyday, the lowest forms of "humanity", the monsters and their stupidity and diseased faggotry. i cannot believe for one second that i am anywhere near these monsters in the evolutionary chain. maybe i am not, or, maybe the monsters are the norm and i am the mutant freak. it is a mistake that these things are allowed to exist. my brain, which is not a normal brain, cannot tolerate this much more. i am sick within and without. i want to die in my sleep tonight. i hope i die tonight, i hope i die, i hope. i can only hope. goodnight all you fools who don´t understand a word i am writing.

 

police in detroit looking for a gunman who opened-fire at the city airport, killing 2, including a bystander waiting to get a taxi. haha, i bet that guy is wondering down in hell if he should have really come to detroit! haha, now nice, take a plane to detroit, step off the plane, and get your stupid ass shot. welcome to detroit, you stupid son-of-a-bitch. 1000 days after the twin-towers osama bombing, and uncle osama is still running amuck. i think i heard that he was seen at disneyland eating a big-mac and drinking coca-cola. or driving a taxi in new york city. another hurricane hits the usa, this is punishment for american evils in the world, so was the twin towers bombing, osama being the hand of god, allah be praised. but america has yet to feel the real punishment. it is just beginning. another morning i wake up in hell, another morning i wake up and my prayer for death is not answered, another day of being completely irritated and angered by the stink and smell and stupidity of schwarze faggot monsters, it is my ultimate punishment - but for what? lighting a pile of trash on fire? 4 years and counting in prison for that? only in the nazi state of michigan. god hates me, praise allah.

 

it´s as though life has passed me by, left me destitute on the side of the road, penniless, sick, destitute, estranged. it is always so hard for me to remember, what my life was before all this happened. going from ultimate freedom to no freedom, from drinking the finest irish whiskey to drinking nothing. or, drinking coffee made from the cheapest coffee-powder made. to be a man who loved women, who loved to lay with women, to be surrounded night and day by monster schwarze faggots. it is as though some sick twisted god decided to play a joke on me, by taking away all that i loved and replacing it with everything i hate, and i mean HATE. so what can i do? i can´t get out of here, the nazis of michigan will not allow it, altho i could have been let out of here 3 years ago. it is a nightmare. i can do nothing. i paint pictures, that is what i "do". and i suffer. i wish i were back in germany. i think of this every day, many times a day. i wish i were playing in my band and touring around europe and recording new albums. but it looks like it will be a very very long time before that ever happens, unless i get some help by some kind of miracle. yeah, a miracle from the same god that plays sick games with my life. maybe i am the modern-day "job" from the bible, and that god and satan are betting on my misery, to see when i will crack up. the only problem with that, is that i really do not think satan would do such a shitty thing to me as destroy my life. god has a track-record of fucking-up all kinds of things, and mayhap god has it in for me, he enjoys it when i suffer. so he must be ejaculating in his big god pants right now, watching me write about my suffering in the dark, surrounded by monsters, sick with a severe cold for 10 days and with no medicine to ease my pain. ja, god is cumming in his pants watching me writhe and twist in agony. and i suspect there are more than a few of you ass-fuck human peep-holes out there who also are enjoying the fact that i am in prison and not out in europe, playing music and fucking your women.

 

i had a dream just now, that a little flying saucer was hovering near my knees as i was standing in a sniper´s nest, waiting to shoot any english RUC that were on patrol in belfast. i was afraid the UFO was going to give me away so i stomped on it, and it broke and fell to the ground. i looked through the pieces and found a tiny little alien inside, barely alive. he was frozen into a strange tortured position. i picked him up and ran home. i put the alien into a glass of water and set him on the floor. i called my dad to see the alien and asked him what i should do. dad didn´t really know but he thought it was right that i put the alien in water. we talked about the possibility of the aliens being able to time travel and dimension shift because they were able to shrink their component elemental atoms. then i picked up the alien and felt that the water was getting warm, and the alien was a sort of reddish jelly color, and he had fingers of fluorescent green with a black line outline around his body. strangely like my own paintings, ha ha. i put the alien/glass of water on the table and my dad lifted him out of the water. the alien began to move slowly and cling to my dad´s hand. dad handed the alien to me, and it clung to me like a scared kitten. the alien had eyes that were like the usual black almond-shape, but inside the black was a normal kind of eye, a bit scared but also trusting. it was interesting to me that this alien trusted me.

 

maybe because i saved it. and yet i was the one to stomp on his ship. somewhere else in the dream a sword arrived to me in the mail, along with a pair of leather dueling gloves. i have no idea what that meant or was about, except i remember that in a dream last week i had ordered a sword by mail. and it arrived in today´s dream. this is typical of my "dream world", everything is quite connected in some way. my dreams are quite intricate and very realistic. this is a product of my mind being wasted and subdued by my imprisonment. i have no real stimulation, so my mind makes up its own strange dream world, complete with plots and intrigues, irish guerilla warfare, LSD experiments, magic-mushroom farming, goats, beer, whiskey, sex with strange girls, me singing at concerts, playing guitar and keyboards, storming castles, living in underground futuristic caverns and shooting laser weapons, me as a jedi-knight and slicing bodies in half. so much happens in my dreams, and they all connect. it is the only place i can go to escape.

 

the bedbug has got a thing about hacking people up. dirty money spent to shut people up. bio logical research funded by anti-social investors to discover a virus that will successfully target and eliminate unwanted elements in society. freedom given away for nothing to a race of retards is a freedom unquestionably abused. can i offer you a drink? did punky act peculiar in the last few months? punky went to church a lot. punky got his goddamned head chopped off by the mad chinese blind man wearing a nazi baby-bib. there is some sickness in this society that can be so easily cured with the right kind of virus. airborn, death from above, death from within. a bottle of bushmills and a rottweiler by my side, dreaming of europa. a bottle of the pharmacist´s wine and an airedale terrier by my side, sitting on the bank of a river in germany, my conscious mind so completely expanded that i can only stare at the water and mumble things to myself, "burpy burpy burp" i used to write stories back then, stories about a clown with sexual problems. trident missiles are being launched from off-shore american nuclear submarines, the world as we know it is coming to an end in a bright white flash of brilliant light. i have finally found my peace.

 

oh, hello kitten! hell-o from hell. hot sweltering night, makes the monsters even more obnoxious and irritating and stinking like unclean zoo cages. i´m still sick, ten days now, with no sign of this cold wanting to go away. isn´t it lovely? it is all just the same to me now, sick or not sick, i´m in hell, i am being tortured every fucking second i am in here - i only can wish that my sickness will progress and grow to something that will kill me. but even that is doubtful - i am quite resilient, and nothing seems to be able to kill me. not overdosing, which has happened myriad times; not falling off rooftops, or PA towers, haha. not any sickness or disease i have contracted, and i´ve had some doozies. not assassination attempts, there were two of those. not car crashes, at least three i remember. not drinking alcohol, certainly i can never get enough of that. nothing seems to be able to kill me. so this chicken-shit cold certainly won´t. it just irritates the shit out of me.

 

good morning america, how are you? i hope you die and topple into the pit of hell where you belong. hurricane frances is ripping apart florida. a detroit city council man is arrested for picking up a prostitute, he loses his job. a black council man wanting to pay a white woman for sex, of course. MTV tells this story very