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

emotions are all NOTHING, life is NOTHING. if i am some kind of genetic product of alien DNA experiments, then all the shit i am going thru seemingly has a reason, unless the aliens are some kind of evil malicious sons of bitches who get off on watching me suffer. i believe, but i don´t know, that there is an afterlife and/or a spirit world. there are gods and goddesses, angels, devils, demons, saints, all. there is a god or goddess unique to every person, or an evil entity, which would seem to be the most prevalent because of the great amounts of evil people in this world - maybe they are being driven by demons, i don´t know. maybe they are just worthless pieces of shit with no conscience or morals. i don´t even know why any of this matters. i only know i need out of here.

 

how much tragedy is too much? when does the mind break? i live in the past, i poison the future. undo the memories, stop the dreaming, fear the inevitability of pain. some weird hillbilly woman strangled a pregnant woman and cut the foetus out of the pregnant woman´s belly with a kitchen knife. the baby is still alive, the hillbilly is dead in prison, the pregnant woman is dead in the ground. this is america. i saw some supposed joke on TV about white women who fuck NBA players, schwarze, and i thought, "yea, this is america". and i am so happy that i have nothing to do with this godforsaken land of sickness. when or if i am ever let out of the hell that is michigan prison, i will go back home to europa, my land, the land of my fathers. let america fall to ruin, let america turn into one big warzone schwarze ghetto, let america be the place where white women give themselves so readily to cock-sucking basketball players, let america have its kitchen-knife welding hillbillys, murdering and crack-smoking schwarzes, rapist predator homosexual prison schwarzes, let america fall to ruin. we will laugh, because the malicious glee brought forth will be a better joke than one about white women.

 

my entire life as i knew it was gone. spring is here again. i should start feeling better, but! the sun can shine in hell, no matter how nice the weather is, no matter if i get thru a day without coughing up blood or having nuclear radiation green nose-pudding collect in my head or globs of brown-vomit-mucous hacking out my lungs, no matter if i wake up with a song in my heart after sleeping all night without being woken up by the creeping-faggot-schwarzes who use the night to prey on their victims, no matter if i can get thru a day without some type of massive irritation. nothing matters as long as i am still in this living hell. my soul will never find peace in this place. can you, my dear reader, imagine what it is like to exist in a place where not a single moment goes by without hearing some loud-mouth-monkey screaming violent rap words? or having to look at the absolutely worst pieces of human shit on earth 24 hours a day without end? i keep my eyes on my painting work or i just close my eyes a lot. maybe some of you would not mind it, you do not possess the sensitivity that i have, or that a small percentage of the world possesses. but at least the few people i know who try to help me out of here understand the hell i exist in. i wish captain ralf were here to chop off the heads of schwarze-schwulls with his pirate sword.

 

a potty-mouth poem for your pleasure:

 

i am crippled, i am sickness

i see life thru dead and retarded eyes

i cannot move my arms

i cannot move my legs

my shit squirts into a plastic bag

i had no reason to live ´til the doctor hooked me up

to a machine that gives me a whispering wheeze of life

now i am the machine

the machine is now me

the doctor instructed into my ear:

you can´t lose!

no no no, itchy, you can´t lose!

i am a true survivor

 

no crashing car can destroy my brain

i rejoice in orgasmic ecstasy

as a rubber tube pumps nourishment down my throat

a diaper catches my piss and shit

a big-breasted nurse wiped drool from my lips

they will tell me, if i come out of the coma

i am lucky to be alive

the pretty nurse erotically licks my lips

and wets my ear with her pink tongue

and tells me:

you can´t lose!

no no no, itchy, you can´t lose!

 

when was it that i became so ugly?

when will it be that i become beautiful once again?

 

you can´t lose!

no no no, itchy, you can´t lose!

i am a true survivor

i am a true survivor

 

please don´t let me die...

 

 

if you destroy everyone who stands in the way of your dreams, you end up alone with no dreams at all. american jerks are going home, we will sleep one-thousand years, when we wake the world will end. ninety-nine aint enough - all or nothing - get down. enemies often appear as angels. i am morally ambiguous, and i don´t give a flying shit! if god chooses, i will love thee better after death. living under constant threat of attack brings its own attendant dangers.

 

if anything bad happens to me in here, you can all contact me in the spirit world. i´ll be hanging out with jim, kurt, sid, and ian. for now, take a drink of bushmills irish whiskey for your suffering friend in prison. this is the end, beautiful friend, the end.

 

itchy wiggle christ

25. April 2005

(from prison in the usa)

 

 

 

 

closing words

this book is free of charge for all friends and fans of gregory-john mc cormick, alias itchy, of the detroit band shock therapy.

 

i worked a lot of hours realizing this book. i beg you to respect, at least, the work i have done to free gregory from prison, and the work i have done to make this book happen.

 

i beg you further to not copying this book and/or selling it without having any assignment of permissions. all copyrights on this book and the paintings shown in this book, belong to me, ralf dellhofen. in case something bad will happen to me, i assign all copyrights to my best friend, fabian schlupp. fabian is absolutely incorruptible and he loves gregory and his music. don´t even try to contact him! i have reliable friends all over the world, who keep their eyes open. i give a flying shit on each and every police officer, attorneys or judges, if someone is starting to fool me. remember, that i am poor and sick and i have nothing to lose anymore, anyway! if necessary, we solve the problem with unauthorized/illegally copyright-fraud or sellings, without having my permissions, by punishment "the old irish way", together with the boyos of my ship crew...and my buckler sword!

 

all other friends and fans, who honor gregory´s literary remains, his music and arts, shall live their lifes in peace, harmony and success.

 

all the best, wherever you are, whoever you are!

 

captain ralf dellhofen

18. November 2017

(from leverkusen, germany)

.

..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...

Imprint

Text: Gregory-John Mc Cormick (Itchy) / Ralf Dellhofen
Images: Gregory-John Mc Cormick (Itchy) / Ralf Dellhofen
Cover: Gregory-John Mc Cormick (Itchy) / Ralf Dellhofen
Editing: Ralf Dellhofen
Translation: Ralf Dellhofen
Layout: Ralf Dellhofen
Publication Date: 11-19-2017

All Rights Reserved