“All y’all niggas be tellin’! None of y’all records is sellin’! All y’all niggas is bitches! My niggas is felons! Y’all gotta pay for pussy! I ain’t gotta pay for shit! I ain’t even payin’ for my sins! On God, I’ma kill ‘em again! Till it’s blood on my face, blood on my teeth, blood on my hands, blood on my sink…” Jayceon, sup, twin? You’ll get that later. If God ghostwrote those Lucifer-like lyrics, would you fear facing him? Practicing patience to prevent the perturbing pressures of predictability can turn a ticking time bomb into an elegantly explosive expansion. But I digress. Persistently pulling the past to the present per human habit or through repeating reminders of a perceived problem that one thinks requires resolving can take a toll on one’s mental health. The really rare ability to immediately move on obviously makes many maddening and miserable moments fade fast. How long do you dwell on distractions, especially ones that typically don’t adversely affect you until you focus firmly on them? Years ago, I learned that the pattern pertaining to how long high-spirited highlights last before low-spirited lowlights take over is pretty predictable. The truth is, humans aren’t allowed to see stress-free successes or prolonged periods of peace by design, because there’s been no god on this war-ridden, wildly wicked, wasteful, worsening world. Without a doubt, Jesus Christ represented the selfless sacrifice of someone who was willing to die for others to live, right? Y’all, this place is pure phooey! And I HATE y’all fuckin’ God! The idiotic idea that being better than “the best” should require the better to befriend or be buddy-buddy with “the best” is bullshit. Because who thinks that besides bullshitters, right? And y’all God is the biggest bullshitter not necessarily known to the massively malleable-minded miscreants of mankind. Quick question, and I’ve asked this several times, if you’re gratefully giving God glory for the goodness and grace that he gives—as he’s an all-knowing, all-seeing, almighty provider and protector from your personal perspective—why not give him grief for all the badness and bullshit that he bombards you and every everyday Earthling with every day? To the gravely gullible, God-fearing goofs of the whole wide world, I regret to inform you that ain’t no motherfuckin’ Devil, dummies! It’s ALL the all-knowing, all-seeing, almighty God! Because “all” means exactly everything. Honestly, I’ve been avoiding directly divulging that frightening fact for a while. But y’all are so stupid that, like I said, you blame “the Devil” for everything evil and excruciating among your everyday experiences, but you simultaneously see such saddening suffering as God purposely putting you through pain, problems, and possibly death to show you how he can help, heal, and be heroic—even if you die or damn-near die because of the bombardments of bullshit that he intentionally initiates. Make it make sense, please. Once more, why wouldn’t an “almighty” anything be able to stop something or someone—such as Satan—in a place that they (the Almighty) created, and where their power is ultimately unlimited? Stop respecting a ruthless ruler with supreme authority who can completely control essentially everybody but me! Because that’s so stupid! One of y’all silly selves is sitting there smiling and shit with a cute chain wrapped all the way around your nice neck—from top to bottom—with a cold crucifix dangling down the middle. I wonder why? What are you really representing, ma’am? Is that a silent show of support for the shining savior or a symbol of slavery? I say it’s slavery, because if it weren’t, you wouldn’t be supposedly showing silent signs of support—they’d be loud and lively. Right? Y’all don’t get it, do you? Be honest, is every everyday Earthing being allusively attacked and subliminally slighted by fake-ass famous folks regularly and repetitively? No, it’s just me, the only one—Beau Amoureux. Mrs. Jessica Robin Moore, aka “Jess Hilarious,” there’s no real reason why y’all shouldn’t understand where I’m coming from, ma’am. I obviously don’t give a diggity damn about y’all little ratchet-ass, raggedy-ass radio show. Yet, you’re doing a horrible job of hiding this abidingly annoying, alarming situation. Your Honor, let the record show that the entire cast and crew of “The Breakfast Club” is actively collaboratively conspiring to conceal the truth about their intentional involvement in the crazy conspiracy centered on me. Remember, politicians, podcasters, and popular pontificating personalities are all reading my published posts as soon as midnight strikes, and ain’t nobody said shit about this—even after all the revealing receipts I’ve shared. The average anybody would’ve lost their motherfuckin’ mind years ago, and would never even have thought to do what I’ve done to survive this sad, sadistic situation. But that’s why I’m the only one—I’m destined to dominate. Which queues the query, if your God can’t stop me, what the figgity fuck are y’all gon’ do juke justice and judgement? Because soon…
Omniscience