Do you know how I know y’all are stupid as fuck? Again, only be offended if it resonates. But it’s because you’re aiding the Feds in applying the same aggravating and apathetic allusive attacks that they initiated with the idiots that I’ve been indifferent to from the beginning, but you’re acting as if I started this shit. Make that make sense! How the fuck are y’all trying to gangbang a spiritual gangster, unprovoked, performing professionally choreographed allusive attacks that you’re aware are intended to be esoteric, but you don’t believe that’s what’s been happening the whole time—since before you bitch-ass bandwagoners were involved?! I’m smarter than y’all! Every now and then, as my buzz bustles and my brand is bolstered by my brilliance, I must remind the readers that I’m not regular. I don’t study other people’s opinions, hypotheses, and ideas—I think for myself. If I research anything, I’m only focused on facts—not folks’ feelings. I wasn’t raised by informative and inspirational people—I’ve educated myself and I’m self-motivated. This is important because stupidity strangles simpletons’ senses—they can’t see past what they don’t understand. A doctor and a drug addict can come from the same household, right? By the same token, an intellectual can emerge from an unsophisticated environment. And if you were forged in fire like me, after being born with the capacity to comprehensively comprehend things, maybe you could master yourself quickly, too. Y’all, these meager motherfuckers want something to be wrong with me so fucking bad that they’re literally making up stupid shit and having y’all indirectly insult me with their mindless misinterpretations of my indisputable individuality. Tell me that’s not pathetic! I wish I could share more receipts, but that would be very “Tasha K.” of me, and this shit is super serious. Anyhoo, “Lady,” you could never hurt my feelings. You’ve said that at least twice that I know of, and all you have to do is stop alluding to me if you don’t fuck with me! Also, make sure you tell your boyfriend how much of a fan you are of Beau and his big brain. “Cutie,” go find you one of those “niggas with money” and get off my dick, please. Now, I’ve acknowledged y’all and your goofy-ass goofiness, are you happy? This is random, but shout-out to Keke Palmer. Girl, you lookin’ good! Are y’all ready for another story? A few months ago, I woke up and realized that I needed to add money to my account, so I threw on a wrinkled button-down shirt, some baggy jean, and ran to the store. When I got there, the spot was swarming with undercover agents. There was a white lady wearing a baseball cap ear-hustling behind me, a young black male lingering at the ATM, a white male aimlessly browsing the store, and several unmarked cars in the parking lot. I don’t know who trained those motherfuckers, but they all suck at their jobs. As I was standing in line, I saw a black female in my peripheral vision, but I didn’t look over. Apparently, that black female was supposed to be one of my “love interests,” but chances are she was a doppelganger. Nonetheless, rumor has it that she was turned off by my “disheveled” appearance. Now, not only did several of the tarot readers get this information, but some of the details made it to a popular song. In fact, before the shit happened, a couple of the tarot readers were warning that I’d meet someone as my “authentic” self. I swear to y’all god this is a true story! The Feds want me to hate myself, and they’re attempting to control my entire fucking life. To my true fans, I regret to inform y’all that you are getting “the snicklefritz” until my disputes with these devious demons are rightfully resolved. Only one paragraph per post. I’m mentally prepared for an extended court battle, and if I were going to quit, I would have done it already! A wise man once said, “you’ll never see me dead without bloodshed.” And that man was me…
Omniscience