FUCK THE ESS, CHAPTER 12

FUCK THE ESS, CHAPTER 12

The planet I used to live on got blown up in my sleep a long time ago. No more telephone operators, no more information human operators, no more humanity anywhere. Trying to seek any kind of medical care takes months or years, and anyone dying of cancer or something really serious, if alone in the world with no friends or family who care at all and only hate your guts, and WOW, are you in some deep deep deep deep deep mother fucking sorry shit, I'll tell you that right here and right now; Lovely Loo, and all other kind sweet Ladies and gents!!!!

If I didn't have this computer, I would be shit out of fucking luck in these horrible new times of total mother fuckiGN automation. You have one really screwed up nation here, sir, President Bear-hugs Obama!!!!!!!!!!!!!

All I had to do was get to the internet, click the Google box at top screen, then type in or start to, the words ''Google Maps'', you get as far as Google and MAPS and other prompts come right up like leprechaun magic. You click there and the top pages come up, and you click the top and best one, and type in a Vero Beach address I need to be at tomorrow for an intake eval for psych and anxiety care, and poof, there it is, right on Route One, past the Techno-Pop Steak Fake House and before the Walgreen's, between Fifteenth and Sixteenth Street, boom, there it is right on Eighth Avenue, and in Vero Beach, Eighth Avenue and Route One are the same road with two names. Easy as mother fucking pie. But what if I did not have this computer? What if I had not been able to figure it out, and what if I had never learned about any of it and never started a blog back in January of fuckiGN cunt huffing 2006, thanks to Mister Christopher Bennett at the Cifaloglio Never really liked Darius job, up in Jersey? Was all of this fucking shit so that I would survive my anxiety, nine years in the fucking future? As I told my lab tech daughter, I went down from 28 milligrams all the way to ten, but could not hold that small dosage. Currently I am doing 14, and if I am given half milligram pills, I can do a month with three a day, a month with two, and a month with one. From there, Doctor S down the street will keep on up to twice that dosage of 1Mg daily if ever needed, but I am hoping to ween myself off of this fucking shit completely. Is all of this connected however, in some inconceivable and powerful bunch of interwoven star-gates through hell, AKA complex-wormhole-fabric or CWHF? First, why choke me out in 1983 to begin with? How does the mighty Inter-Digital Corporation and their Privecode Machine all fit into it, and then the appointment with the throat specialist that ended me up meeting my own daughter for the second time out of three total times, the train, the medical day, and the Manhattan night? If I tried to tell a psychiatrist any of this mother fuckiGN shit, I would be locked up. I just got off the phone with one and I did not say one one billionth of any of that, and his exact words to me, were, “You wouldn't want us to lock you up for a couple of days”? I said to him calmly, “No doctor, I would not”. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!

FEBRUARY ELEVEN, 20115,

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON AT 1:00,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 69 DEGREES FNHT.

I have a powerful new respect FOR MY ORIGINAL LYRICS on the LOVE IS FOR CARPENTERS song from 1980, and done on a guitar early in 1981 over at 1802 Robin 'TWEET TWEET TWEET' Hill Apartments, of Voorhees, New Jersey; in the good old USA-ESMWG!!!!!!!!!! Alex Jones, where are you when the common folks all need you, freedom fighter? I think you're like all the others, just out to be rich and fuckiGN famous, that's what I think! SO WO, MISTER HARNER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“We all have a number and none have a name, and all that we do have, is each other to blame”.

Where are you Tom Glenn, my trusty great musical arranger, sir. You're fuckiGN clueless to what you were a part of 34 years ago in that apartment, echos, breath echos, and all else notwithstanding.

THIS PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW!