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

well. which party is the worse of the two, the more morally corrupt, is a question that may remain unanswered. just another example of how diseased and socially decrepit the usa is. i would never, ever, for any reason, ever raise my kids in this godforsaken country. i will raise my kiddies in ireland, where there is a modicum of sense and morality to the society. the usa culture is so polluted by the ghetto-schwarze mentality. it is diseased, morally corrupt, venal. nothing is safe, and the nazis are drooling to put anyone they can in prison and keep them there. to hell with this country, to hell with it! i understand osama´s thinking in wanting to destroy this place - shit, he would be doing the world a favor. there would be far less wars in the world, for one. do you think that an ami soldier thinks about how he is dying to save big american corporate oil interests? does this cross his mind as he lays in an iraqi street with his legs blown off? or do you think that america brain-washes the soldiers into believing that they put their life at risk and die to "preserve freedom"? everywhere on ami TV, the latter is the case. the networks pump out american propaganda like crazy, night and day. i can only imagine what the hell the nazi american military regime is drilling into the heads of its mindless drone-robot killing-machine soldiers. YOU WILL DIE FOR FREEDOM, SOLDIER, AND YOU WILL LIKE IT! and all the while this is happening, some twisted grossly obese pig is sitting behind his desk in washington d.c., he has a big fat cuban cigar going, a bottle of chivas regal opened, and 15 big mac hamburgers sitting in front of him waiting to be devoured. he will watch his child-pornography DVD´s after he is done with his lunch, and then check to be sure that the price of oil are remaining where he desires them to be. he must maintain his quality of life at all costs, this is needless to say. soldiers die for him, but that´s what soldiers do, after all. they die. freedom is the best propaganda ever invented.

 

it´s a great deal of trouble to go to, to evolve to the point of having real emotions. humans caught in giant glue traps, wailing for mercy an release, but the hand of jeebus lifts the glue trap up off the floor and throws it into the giant garbage hole of the abyss, laughing all the while. i am there, in your mind, i am in you and i am losing control. total aggravation without any emotional release will lead to really interesting cancerous lumps. i finished my ku-klux-klan monster painting, i call it "antidepressive death-mask", very fitting if not entirely inspired, but it´s a good piece of work. at least i worked my little ass off on it, and that with a severe cold. i´m proud of myself, a little, but i started sketching for a new painting i will start tomorrow. never resting am i, must work, must work. see jodie foster in "the panic room"? how about see jodie foster fuck nastassia kinski in the panic room? what the hell is on the TV? i think i am falling apart inside - mentally, spiritually.

 

stuff is dying, but i keep kicking out these paintings, one after the other. is my sickness bleeding into the paintings? in lone relationship, there is a fire line between pleasure and pain. plain implies growth, but when is enough pain enough? pureé the insects and slaughter the lambs, put on your nazi-bibs and get ready for dinner, americans, celebrate your freedom, and for dessert you can smoke a bunch of crack cocaine! don´t choke on the kentucky fried-chicken bones, and don´t flinch from the big ass-fucking you will esoterically receive from the next big happy-bomb that will go off on your sick putrid soul-less lives! eat meat! love the bomb! o-kay U-S-A! erin go bragh! free ireland! g´night.

 

we have no devil, captain kirk, but we understand the habits of yours. we will torture you to death. star trek in the morning, what a beautiful day, the ultimate way to start a morning - the only thing missing for me is a bottle of bushmills and a few packs of camels. kill those klingon monsters, captain. a distress call. i am sending a distress call. beam me up captain kirk! michigan nazis are holding me captive in a faggot-schwarze-monster prison. i want to raid engineer scottie´s scotch whiskey cabinet and get stinking drunk with yeoman janice rand and whatever other girl-toy she has with her. they need mr. wiggles! beam me up, captain! please! i´m dying in here, please.

 

we are creating a break between two points by altering the space-time continuum, narrow beams of sub-atomic particles shot directly into my brain, i control all space and all time, i am the mad chinese kung-fu master with the guillotine that flies and chops off your heads, and yes, i am wearing a nazi baby-bib. i am the superman, i am the alpha and the omega, i am your god. i ate jeebus for breakfast and i shit him out at noon, and it didn´t even bust my hemorrhoids! i see your head and i want it to come off, my fingers itch to throw my flying guillotine, i am marie antoinette with a tiny chinese dick, i am henry the eight without a big fat belly and at least i have a dick where henry had none, i am monsieur guillotine, the madame is busy riding up and down on my huge irish trouser-python. i kneed superman in the balls and slapped him down to the ground, he cried, i laughed, and my flying guillotine did its foul deed. i will travel to all ends of the galaxy into whatever time i desire, i am the god of space-time, i will travel back to the new republic and fight luke skywalker. his jedi skills are no match for my kung-fu and flying guillotine, i will beat luke skywalker in mortal combat and take his woman, the lovely red-haired mara jade. she will be the new gormlaith, the new queen of ireland, and i will be king, yes, i am the king of ireland, son descendent of king cormac.

 

mara jade will enjoy the pleasures of the irish trouser-python along with madame guillotine together. maybe i can take skywalker´s lightsaber and fashion myself a new type of spinning death-wheel flying guillotine. mara, queen mara, will help me, and we will practice the new spinning death-wheel weapon on captured viking and english soldiers. how dare they tread upon irish (our) soil! no no no, can´t have that.

 

don´t leave me, please, for god´s sake, please help me. i start my medication tomorrow. i will soon be rid of my migraine headaches, perhaps. until then, i sleep and dream and fall endlessly into the dark pit of entropy and insanity brought on by extreme loneliness. no mail. i´m still sick. shit. goodnight, mara jade.

 

even more hurricanes hit america soon! more exacting punishment for the evil that ami-land perpetuates. what is good about it for greggy is that hurricanes in florida mean cool weather in nazi-land, which is michigan, land of nazis, the disneyland of hell, the worst place on earth.

 

i used to like very hot weather, but no longer. i once enjoyed the sun, but now i really don´t care. in fact, i don´t care much about anything anymore, it just hurts too much. my life is destroyed and i´ve lost all i had on the "outside" - my life is inexorable altered by this horrible existence and there is no indication that anything will change. so i really don´t care about anything like the sun or warm weather or flowers or love or?. i am wearing shit-tinted sunglasses, i see every thing in this world coated in shit. i care for very little anymore. i care for my finchees, my little sparrows. yesterday i gave them a special treat, pieces of toast with peanut butter on top. they went crazy with delight, they really loved it. this made me happy, but even then, i find myself not feeding my finchees as much as i used to. i´m losing my will to live. as if i had internal batteries, and they are very low in power, and there are no replacement. but then i have long accepted that my life is basically over with now. it is changed forever. naja. it was a good run while it lasted, greggy, but nothing goes on forever without change. what pisses me off, though, is that my life is not ended because of my decision to end it - my life is over because the nazis of michigan have stolen it from me, and no one is able to help me or challenge the nazis. i am totally alone, miserable, sick. and i say to myself, "what a wonderful world"!

 

nighty night night night. "resident evil" is on TV, featuring the ever sweet milla jovovich, erk, eeep, umm, hm. painful to watch. started my migraine medication tonight - it´s supposed to make me very sleepy, but so far nothing. typical. my body and brain can withstand massive amounts of tranquilizers or narcotics or whatever before any kind of effect takes place. the years and years of heavy recreational mind-altered substances are to blame. my drinking is the best part, or the worst, however one sees it. i can drink any man or woman alive right under the table. two liters of irish whiskey and i am just getting started. well, anyone who wants to challenge me is welcome, but you must wait for the nazis to release me. for now, i watch milla and dream-sleep-die my little death. g´night, mutants!

 

the morning of my miscontent, mourning my life, more deadly shootings in detroit last night, hurricane ivan killed 25 in jamaica and is headed for florida.

 

erp, eep, ort, bingle bingle butt-dee jumper, nighttime and medications make me groggy and not wanting to write so much. it is a strange feeling and i will go with it. the vet/doctor prescribed benadryl to go with my headache medicine. quite a nice little cocktail. am i serious? ja ja, johann. dream time.

 

these stars are well within reach. sinus misery. prescription strength sinus relief. pull out a hershey´s bar. saturday morning again. drugs drugs from last night still at work, feeling a bit groggy, almost drunk. only dreams can be escape. plane crashes at a busy intersection. laughing hyena on the nature show on TV. Vultures, cheetahs. hyenas are only wild dogs. still, they make more sense in their life than most "human beings". razor sharp teeth. i had waffles to eat for my breakfast. waffles every saturday morning. hyenas can hear anything. habitat fragmentation, distortions of the mind. hallucinations reaching a critical level. the lights come on, so it is time to work? or i may just sleep - nice pills make this possible. who the hell knows?

 

precious night, the night is my savior. finding it interesting to mix medications that i can buy for my cold, and what the nazis give me at night for my migraines. some strange exotic effects are produced with the right combinations. jayusm i am a walking-talking pharmacy, aren´t it? often have i wondered what is going on with my liver. my liver has had to strain and remove so many ilicit chemicals over the years, not to mention the voracious amounts of alcohol. it is a wonder that my liver still works. maybe it is some kind of super-liver, or maybe genetically, irish people have better livers? i don´t know, but i do wonder how my liver has survived this long. actually, i don´t know how i have managed to live this long at all. i have been so very very neglected of my body and mind. i´ve done drugs that more