This is about to sound a way, but just read to the end. So, I bet y’all want this shit to just go away, huh? Well, there’s always the easy way out. Do you know how I know y’all are cowards? It’s because you’ve placed surveillance equipment in my home, have agents following me everywhere I go, hacked every electronic device that I use, bugged all of my vehicles, dug into my past searching for things to trigger me, plagiarize my work, attack me allusively, and refuse to say my name—all to avoid the illumination of illusions that shall accompany my ascension. Today, there won’t be much fluff or fancy figures of speech, just facts. Besides, y’all regularly overanalyze my shit to the point where you become disillusioned by your own misinterpretations. My loyal readers, these bitches are banking on y’all calling bullshit and not believing me. That’s too bad, ain’t it? So, remember this text message that I revealed was sent to me on Christmas last year? Well, I believe that the Feds directed my relatives to antagonize me, hoping to make me anxious and antsy. On Christmas, I stayed home—where I live alone—and cooked cheese burgers, of which I ate about six throughout the day. This may be too much information, but both cheese and onions give me gas. Additionally, I’d moisturized my entire body with castor oil that day, and put some of the oil in my belly button, which gets the digestive system hyperactive. If you don’t know, castor oil detoxes your organs. So, by the time I’d laid down for bed, I was flatulent. I swear to y’all God this is a true story! As I drifted off to sleep, I began to receive numerous text message notifications. I ignored them for a while and tried to go back to sleep, but the messages had reawakened me and I was no longer drowsy. As I rolled over to read the messages, I began to pass gas. The more I read, the more I laughed, which made me poot even more. So, for whatever reason, the Feds and other involved parties—who have access to hidden cameras placed throughout my house—believed that I was triggered by the messages. I’ve had issues with my insecure, imbecilic, institutionalized uncle, Tony—who tried to fight me years ago because he was offended by exclamation points that I’d used in text messages—and the Feds foolishly think I’m afraid of him because I called the cops amid the incident instead of putting him out of his misery. Can you guess what they did? They had hip hop’s favorite podcaster and his cast troll me, naming an episode of their podcast “Shartonay,” amalgamating the words “shart” (shit and fart) and “Tony,” implying that the mere thought of Tony gives me the bubble guts. Now, tell me that’s not the goofiest shit you’ve ever heard! That’s a lighthearted example of the Feds’ relentless attempts to make me feel worthless and rejected. And please believe, hip hop’s favorite podcaster and his entire cast and crew, as well as that other bald-headed babbler-mouth and his cronies, (allegedly) know exactly what the fuck they’re doing! Anyhoo, do you recall when I shared a few of the doppelgangers that the Feds force onto my YouTube timeline? Click here to see a clip of the Melyssa Ford lookalike I mentioned, who is a tarot reader, hinting at the idea that my “beef” with Tony frightens me. When I tell y’all that these motherfuckers are stupid, think twice before you question me. For the record, psychics don’t exist. If you are linked to me in any capacity, and you’ve come across any of these tarot readers’ channels, take everything that they say with a grain of salt. They are being fed their “downloads” by the Feds, who provide minimal information, and the readers improvise as they pull cards. If these so-called psychics are wrong about the things that they say pertaining to me, the information that they are providing about y’all must be flawed, too. Be advised, that only applies to the “love interests” attached to me.
Once again, the stalking, harassment, humiliation, psychological torture, and plain ole bullshit has been going on for years now. A while back, I wrote about how I’d been emailing hip hop’s favorite podcaster’s manager, just to keep a record of the allusive attacks being orchestrated against me. Following a specific email, where I was strategically requesting compensation to avoid the publicizing of this problematic and prolonged predicament, a woman crashed into my front yard. I believe that the incident wasn’t an accident, and it was (allegedly) an attempt to intimidate me. This occurred on August 15, 2024, at 10:46am. Click here to see an email that I sent to hip hop favorite podcaster’s manager on August 14. Click here to see the follow-up email that I sent on the 15th—the day of the crash—at 10:25am. And click here to see a clip from my personal footage, showing the woman crashing into my front yard approximately 20 minutes after I sent the August 15 email. Fortunately, hip hop’s favorite podcaster allusively responded to many of my email correspondence on his podcast. And in my opinion, he did it enough times to preclude plausible deniability. What would you do if you were me? I’ve advocated for Angie Stone at least twice on this blog. Click here to read a post that I wrote about ageism in relationships. Click here to see a comment that I left on a YouTube video that highlighted Angie’s relationship with her former younger partner and son’s father, D’Angelo. Before Angie’s untimely demise, she was speaking against the unfairness of the music industry, and how she’d been taken advantage of nearly her entire career. Conspiracy theorists suggest that Angie’s death following her whistleblowing wasn’t a coincidence. And as someone who is being constantly imposed upon with offensively obvious contrived “coincidences” that are constructed to cause confusion, I recognize the ridiculously rushed results that rivals will run to while aiming to relieve themselves of revealing repercussions and ramifications. Angie may have gone toe-to-toe with the same predatory powers that are provoking me. I know what you’re thinking, “who the fuck is this guy,” right? Obviously, threat assessments were made, and motherfuckers see me as a problem. Eventually, more will be exposed, and you won’t have to take my word for it. Anyhoo again, remember when I told y’all that I keep seeing Super Mario merch and memes? Click here, and here, and here to see three screenshots from tarot readers on YouTube that shows them wearing Mario merch, which I believe they’ve been directed to display. For your information, I’d never searched for tarot readings on YouTube, ever. Once more, this shit was planted onto my timeline, and I’m being bombarded with the content—some of which allude to my specific situations. Y’all, this shit is far from over! And if I ever stop posting, just know that it’s not by choice, so keep the conversations about me alive. To you know who, I haven’t forgotten about you, but I respect your privacy and care for your mental health. If those good deeds were indeed meant for me, confirmation would be greatly appreciated. I know that you’ve been compromised, in a sense, because I can read between the lines. And they’re probably surveilling you, too. Additionally, it seems like some celebrities already know who you are. Seeing all this pink and green can’t be a coincidence. By the way, if you don’t know, my favorite color is fuchsia. What’s more, I am heterosexual. That’s just a couple fun facts. Writing without the alliterations, metaphors, etc. is kind of boring to me, and too easy. But that’s neither here nor there. If you’ve been here, you better stay tuned. Please understand that I am strategic, and this isn’t something that I would ever take lightly. Despite how they may be attempting to make it seem, suggesting that I’m paranoid and blowing shit out of proportion, we all know that I see the big picture in mostly everything. I won’t be manipulated into playing myself, and I’ll never be anyone’s puppet. This ride is about to get wilder, bumpier, and more uncomfortable for a whole lot of y’all! And ain’t no getting off this motherfucker, you’re upside down already! Peace.