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

perhaps i will develope some really painful and crippling form of cancer, maybe i will be crowned king of irland and given a great castle and 33 wives and 55 cows, a goat, some horses, and a kitty-cat or two, maybe an evil haitian voodoo priest will shoot me with a blowgun dart dipped in curare, and i will be turned into a vicious brain-eating zombie, i would really like a schwarzwälder kirschtorte at this moment.

 

can i talk to you a moment? what´s your name? jesus wept, and itchy suffered. i have been, as of late, giving serious thoughts to finally forming the church of the most high pope itchy wiggle christ the 666th. of course, i am the god, the martyr, and the pope all rolled into one. my followers would all learn my street-fighting martial arts, and be proficient in weapons, especially knives. knives will be important to both protection and for rituals and prayer. the "religion" will be a mix of taoism and wicca, with celtic/druidic influence. i will have actual "churches", which will be halls of ritual as well as training dojos. no one will quite know where the serious religion begins and the farce and comedy end. just as in "real" religions. not even i will know the reality or farce - that is the mystery!. and actually, as the most high leader of the church, i should be the most confused member of all members! each member will begin as a monk or a nun, then once they reach black-belt level they will become a priest or priestess. leaders, or owners, of each dojo will be a bishop. members of my immediate circle of administrators, managers, and musicians will be cardinals. all practitioners of the church of i.w.c. will learn martial arts, zen/taoist mind control, chi-kung and magic, and each member will choose a proficiency in one or more of the following: music, art, or intellectual thoughts, mathematics, strategy, literature, languagesm etc. the network of the church, music, art, martial arts, and anything to do with commerce or management will be handled by S.T.A.B., the "Shock Therapy Anarchy Bureau". once a person becomes a priest or priestess, they will receive a tattoo, signifying their allegiance to the church. the church will be the ultimate crowning glory of my existence on earth, and if all goes well, i will create many churches worldwide and many followers who will be the best they can be as a human. which isn´t saying much, actually. but we must all work with what we have, right?

 

it is funny and strange, "the fifth element" is on TV again, and one of my dream girls, milla jovovich, is in this movie, and one of my favorite actors also, bruce willis! what is strange, is that last night i had a very nice-and-nasty dream. i was drinking bushmills irish whiskey and having a party in a seedy motel room, and my girl milla was there, and also jennifer tilly, another of my dream girls! and we were laughing and jumping on the bed, then we all started having nasty-potty-fun sex together, and at one point milla and jennifer were laying side-by-side, kissing and touching each other, and i was standing over them on the bed drinking the bushmills, and suddenly i had to puke. which is strange because i do not puke up good whiskey - that is true alcohol abuse! so i let it go and vomitted the whiskey on jennifer´s and milla´s breasts, and they started laughing uncontrollably and rubbing the whiskey puke into each other. at that point i woke up, or i woke myself up - and i really started wondering about my sanity, ha ha. okay, well, i´ve been through situations like my dream for real, and actually much stranger situations, but not with girls like jennifer tilly or milla jovovich. a few "famous" girls, yes, but not movie stars - just strange musician girls. i´ve found that girls who play in music bands have the same strange desires that i tend to have, or at least the same ideas. i think i am really a fucked-up individual. but no more than all the rest of you peep-holes. i just am aware of what i am more than you all.

 

stranger than strange. i am confined to my bed by order of the ever-lovable michigan nazis, so i am sort of in a double prison. one inside the other. but i rarely leave my bed ever, so it makes really no difference. it is a bunch of shit - again, and no real surprise for me. always when things seem to be getting easier for me, a bunch of shit from the ass of jeebus falls on my head and i must wear that holy turd like a hat. i am a walking toilet for the gods. today is some kind of schwarze holiday, maybe butt-fuck day or something. all it means to me is that i get no mail. typical amis using any excuse not to work.

 

i am sick again! - this time it is a virus or influenza, really ingrained deeply into my system, giving me such symptoms as an infected sinus, pus coming out my eyes, coughing, lungs filled with mucous and corruption, upset stomach with vomitting, and my old friend diarrhea. not to mention the overwhelming feeling of slow death creeping into my soul. my energy is down, i keep blowing out golf-ball sized hunks of neon green shit from my nose every five minutes. i wake up in the morning and cannot see because of the pus filling my eyes. and i have been in this condition for over a week now, and there is no indication that it will ever end. with all this going on inside me, there is a horrible nasty snow storm going on outside, it is dumping 25 centimeters of snow every hour, wind is blowing hard, and the wonderous temperature in michigan is a frigid, minus 20 degress celsius. all i can think of doing is to lay in my bed, on the hard plastic mattress that feels like lumpy bricks. i want to pray that i die in my sleep, but i´m sure that somewhere, some god or demon is having quite a good laugh at my misery, so there is no point to pray for death. at least some entity is getting its jollies off watching me suffer. and i am sure there are more than a few people who will read this in the future, those people who hate me with a passion, who will enjoy reading of my suffering in prison. i know there are quite a few of you out there - but it is understandable. i am dangerous to this world.

 

i create ideas and inspire many people to go beyond their mundane pre-planned lives. i want some people to "break the mold" and EVOLVE. but evil forces do not want anyone to go beyond the robots that society wants them to be, evil loves the boring, the trite, the empty entropic morass of existence. when a soul does nothing to grow in this world, it stagnates and never ascends beyond humanity - and evil likes this - there are more unhappy, bored, and disheartened people on earth to create more entropy - to actually de-evolve our race. so those who hate me are in tune with evil - you know who you are. many of you are happy i am in prison and hope i stay here. well, that is not going to happen, you dirty fuckers. eat my shit! or better yet, drink my diarrhea! i´m getting out of here, someday soon! HA HA!

 

forgive them father, they know not what they do. and jesus wept. i am dreaming yet awake, the heavy migraine medication is still coursing thru my head, and i should be sleeping, but for some fucked-up reason i want to go to breakfast and eat waffles. normally i miss breakfast, i never go anymore because i am completely "blotto" in the morning. my brain cannot wake up at seven or six-thirty or whatever. plus, i have conjunctivities in my eyes, and i am practically blind when i wake up - so being blind and brain-dead and stumbling thru the dark and the goddamned bitter minus 20 michigan cold winter morning does not quite seem to be such a great prospect. i´d rather just lay in bed and dream of freedom and pretty girls. but against my better judgement, i am awake at 05:50, waiting to go and get the saturday morning waffles. only on saturday will the nazis allow waffles, altho i could eat waffles every day. i guess waffles remind me very much of germany, where i had some of the best waffles of my life. prison waffles suck, but! the memory and comfort that they bring me is the prize i am going for here. it is a sad state of affairs when i grasp at the smallest of tidbits only to bring back the vague memories of happier times. even at my worst times, when i was a free man, it was better than my best of days in this shitty hell of schwarze-schwulls and diseased perverts and nazis on michigan state pay who take pleasure in making my life a living hell. i could not be much lower than i am at the moment - my spirits seem to be failing as of late - the unholy michigan winter has been brutal, the sun is hardly ever out. i´m very depressed.

 

after three weeks, it seems as tho my latest influenza virus has decided to vacate my already weak body, damn it! the fucking thing didn´t kill me this time! i was really hoping i would just die this time. at least the goddamned virus made me feel like i was going to succumb to the grim reaper. why did he not take me? am i not a nice guy? am i boring to be with? i would think that the grim reaper would find me good company - i have a very dark sense of humor, i am very accustomed to people dying all around me, i drink alcohol and take drugs which should have killed me 20 years ago. well, at least influenza likes me.

 

the difference between genius and insanity is measured only by success. hear all: trust nothing. if you are not fighting the enemy, you are helping them. when you overindulge the body, you starve the soul. curiosity did not kill the cat - hesitation did. itchy copulates with aradia, first witch and daughter of diana: psychosexual reproduction.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

7. The Gospel of Itchy Wiggle Christ

i don´t know, i told you, they all look the same to me. i need a link to a human female, my soul is starving, i´ve not talked to or seen a real live girl for four-and-a-half years. i paint pictures of me as a monster psychosexually cavorting with a beautiful witch. i am lost, lonely, surrounded by sickness and filth. help me die, or bring me back to life. please, brighid, hear me.

 

dirty filthy sunday bloody sunday fucking ass-munch morning. the delights of