The long con.
Top of the morning gents,
I was thinking of good tombstone epitaphs and one that sticks is, "This is an outrage!" I like it cuz it could be our own grave marker or chiseled on our best friends' promises to quit alcohol, tobacco and finally follow their doctor's orders. For a brief period after cessation, complete sobriety appears to us an aneurysm-inducing event. When I buy gasoline I see new large placards boldly informing customers that chew, smoke, vape and synthetic nicotine candy (like Zyn) manufacturers intentionally design their products to be vastly more addictive. Right next this big cardboard advert is another informing me there are 1200 tobacco-related deaths in America every single day. Fuck me, that's pert near 450,000 corpses in a heap, every year. It's a fucking miracle the scant last of us are still talking, we should've been history long ago. Now that's an outrage.
Speaking of mass extermination, I think my history professors at UAF could also claim this outrageous slogan when lecturing archaeological data indicating riotous volcanic eruptions such as the behemoth in 536 BC that caused a short-term ice age, devastating famine and buckled the Rocks of Gibraltar. This collapse of the Gibraltar ridge line opened up the Atlantic Ocean and completely flooded the Mediterranean Valley resulting in separation of Europe from Africa and a mass extinction of 2-legged bipedal hairless monkeys looking strikingly like our NANA neighbors, but cleaner and whiter than our wife-beater NWAB mayor. Vern, Bobby and Clement Richards are pictures in the dictionary white folks point to when describing quarter breed nigger trash.
When new oceans open and flood valleys the size of Eden, Kotzebue surfaced exposing bad soils and bad real estate for filthy fucking humans to breed, piss and shit. When a million humans drown on one side of the Earth, shitty brown sour smelling illegal immigrants gush like diarrhea onto a new continent finding new sewers and grovels to dirty. Some believe the crumbling of the Gibraltar ridge line a biblical event cleansing millions of murderous motherfuckers, but fuck, ain't we all offspring of murderers? We survived to move to a recently emerged shit hole spit nigruk, work public safety, marry lousy Inuits and die from tobacco and stress surrounded by other cops. An outrage I declare.
I dare say and humbly submit mouth breathing knuckle dragging brutes in uniform are the chosen few, while faggot civilian smart-asses secretly whisper "blow job" under their breath. We are here today as genetic survivors of all sorts of butt-fuckery and we should bow our heads to the billions who've died from earthquakes, floods, or our very own hands and in solemn prayer say, "Sucks to be you niggers!" Even if yer paler'n a paleo, floods drown rats in droves, plagues are equal opportunity killers and our busted homicidal hands don't discriminate one bit. Dead is dead.
Dark early mornings are a nightmare awake or dead. This late evening at 2:30 am fills me with the urge to find another expensive cigar with my name on it, torch up an imported cigarette or incinerate my lungs with a bong rip of crystal green bud smashed in yellow glass. A toke Hercules himself would put his seal of approval upon. I'm so old I no longer remember my mother's maiden name, the smell of her internal organs I was entombed nor the taste of the amniotic fluids I swallowed whilst pissing, shitting and swimming in. When we die, know one remembers our shit, where we tossed our own umbilical cord or dumped the placenta we choked and spit out before screaming in anger at the taste from 9 months eating pregnant pussy from the inside. I'm a flogged toddler Finn, I'm bitter, life sucks and I'm sober. In Eskimo I klivut, in Hebrew I'm kvetching. Normally I gravitate to what the Irish call the good man's weakness: drink. Not this late night. God I need a smoke.
Back to the eruption and earthquake that flooded the ancient Mediterranean Garden of Eden and fast forward a chunk of time. We see another disastrous eruption in 1349 that darkened skies nearly identical to, but not as bad as the chain of volcanic eruptions in 1520 that gave us another bitchin' ice age, plus another plague. A century or more later, we scoffed at the oil on canvas paintings depicting George Washington Crossing the Delaware dodging icebergs. We were originally taught this artist's rendition was a bit of disinformation, but it seems it was fairly accurate. America was really fucking cold at the birth of our country and arctic weather played to our advantage in kicking Brit Butt off the continent. And to our advantage in subsequent mass murders of a billion horrid smelling indigenous poop factories and whose births proved Mexicans fucked buffalo.
This catastrophic series of volcanic eruptions in 1520 provided us multi-century winters and these paintings of gorgeous George were NOT exaggeration, propaganda nor puffery. Big volcanoes do indeed fuck up yer sunny summers upriver at fish camp. Enjoy your man-made global warming while it lasts. Hell, maybe Jesus will magically reappear and help strangle and kick your child molesting, wife beating Inuit nigger foes' ass. I'm sure he'd happily kill offspring motherfuckers that murdered his favorite banished son, Manilaq. Even with holes in his hands. And feet.
The reason I went off on this retarded tangent about violent climate change, violent nate-extermination and anti-tobacco campaigns is because we visited some supremely elderly vaginal beings of the matronly type and the mythical shit they were discussing was bizarre. These old gals won't let me say "grandma" directly to their plastic faces because they've paid for the best nips and tucks and were completely full of modern day misinformation. Dude's, they weren't fooling anybody about their ages and their belief in old wives' tales. Old is old and my neighbors are FOS (full of shit). My wife told me an old Eskimo legend states that if you grimace during your younger years, it'll stick and you'll live yer waning years with a permanent bitch-frown. I added the old Finnish proverb stating "a face a man has by the age of 50, is a face he has earned." After a life of aboriginal skeletal and occipital rearrangements my face is quite serene.
Furthermore, this murderous face of mine is so handsome, I'm haunting really. Shit, I still have the dying urge to force feed whiskered lippy wide open, convulse, spaz and dump a million salmon way upriver to spawn. You fuckers shouldn't even try lying to me. If you were faced with a pair of large round 22-year old breasts staring directly at you and greasing yer crank with a familiar bitter-stinking perfumed aroma dating back to the day you were born, yer johnson would pert near burst and push a cervix way deep and heave out a tote full of king salmon leaving yer fat bat internally sore and immensely happy. Then you can die.
Instead of natural beauty from exercise, sobriety and mass murder like mine, my neighbors are synthetic grannies squinched up and reproachful members of the senior citizens coalition of right-minded, right-wing beauty parlor bitches and believe everything is a conspiracy. Including those "made up" tobacco warnings. Living in the bastion of red neck thinking, you coppers all know stubborn broods of dried up conservative cult ladies that freely dispute everything: health, elections, medicines and world events. We're peer boomer members in league with botox Sarah Palin look-alike know-it-all cunts with fish lips, black lungs and trout pouts. Artificially youthful and permanently sneering pinch-faced white biddies eat up social media content like stool samples with a side order of right-wing nut-job conservative talk radio as an appetizer. It's ALL a disinformation conspiracy campaign. Including any and all crimes I may have committed.
You see, since we've joined rank, ripe membership and ancient status, we all know uppity white women like that. In my dust fart chats I kept mum that poor ignorant whites like me and minorities consume tobacco products and I kept silent about prevailing beliefs that voters of color, meaning niggers, gooks, natives, spics, dinks, slopes and chinks are forever wrong-minded due to their dermatological hue impairment and will never understand that skin color plays a role in fucking up national and statewide elections. I even stayed mute that it's our job to keep minority people dead, diluted, down and out, free of ballot booths. I'm a member of a small minority, with only 6-9% voter turnout in Alaska, seems icky old crackers and sour hymies skip voting at every election too. I save my richest, wettest farts for the voting stations.
These white bitches may be sympathetic to the plights of certain suffering non-white 907 monkeys, but gimpy first slave darkies possess predetermined membership to flocks, herds and tribes of traditionally disadvantaged entities and are invariably marginalized losers. Whereas poor white hillbilly AK welfare trash are shitty and poor because they're simply trash. Poor folks of any color are burdened with the stigma of being "brood mares breeding for welfare." My neighbors honestly believe Alaska's minority dark-nates just "lay around and fuck all the time, they don't work." Well shit, we shant let them vote, cuz it's them wiggers and colored folk that believe they are immune to mass media manipulation. Not us wrinkled pink chimps. That would be an outrage.
Old white women are funny dusty twat-licks. They'll tell ye that killing colored folks with poverty is a tragic melancholy event and we sincerely perform acts of contrition and Christian forgiveness, yet elect dildos promising to slash social programs and public assistance budgets, then rip food stamps right outa tar baby's mouths. My old white neighbors aren't concerned about Black Lives Matter rallies that destroy major cities nationwide. Ironically those riots tend to only kill blacks and destroy black neighborhoods. Oh shit, another rap ghetto and native village burned to the ground. I think I'll have a Diet Coke. Total destruction with zero survivors is a good thing cuz we could slip into a race war that would lead, ultimately, to a right-wing takeover and a kinder, gentler fascist police state. 'Cept fer niggers and homeless nate-shite, everything would be all better then. Vote Adolf Ewing fer guv. Or NWAB mayor.
Sitting with my old white biddy neighbors, it's a forgone conclusion that we fully predict black and brown victims of my quick painless homicides, or economic and political subterfuge will all die with displays of gentle surprise on their faces like heavy sleepers abruptly awakened. When we witness poor colored folk living much shorter lives due to curable poor educations, poor health and poor family planning, we see in their dead eyes that they were once someone's little baby monkey and will die with a hint of infant wonder, hopefully gazing upon and trusting in a world that will have mercy upon them. Not in yer dreams shit-skin.
Speaking to pretentious hillbilly women on the Kenai, it's perfectly understandable that someone's gotta lose in the statewide battle over Alaska's scarce and dwindling resources. No heating oil, subsistence foods nor shillings for mukluks means it sucks to be ancient and born with yer rural arctic ass on backwards. White folks happily kill everybody else. Dopey minorities don't understand that you can have a good discussion with a white dude like me who is thinking of killing you. You can tell white folks good dirty or racist jokes and they will laugh profusely with you. You can love working with 'em, marrying them, living in their stolen state even if you know that we will inevitably murder you. I looked in the mirror and it's true, white folks are like that. Elections, being the most difficult of thefts imply we Vote Red and Make Alaska White Again.
I've relayed stories to old white folks here at the greener pastured waning golden years of decline and death about the year me and bun lived in Nome. At the library they have old signs from the Gold Rush years of 1890-1905. Aside from Alaska's second large-scale gold rush flim-flam scam drawing suckers from around the world with bogus tales of misinformation promising gold nuggets the size of apples just laying on the beach, there's a couple of enlarged historical pictures of Front Street. Bars, boutiques, restaurants, trading posts and haberdasheries were packed in super tight, but in all the entry ways were signs that stated, "No dogs, No natives allowed." Ain't that a laughable pisser? Imagine the graffiti I'd paint over a "Spay and neuter your dog or cat" sign and inserted "including indigenous welfare brood mares." I know interracial marriages are a pain in the ass, but my stupid humor and a can of spray paint would possibly make our wretched lives much easier. And humorous. With a shotgun chaser, of course.
I can hear you thinking, "Fuck Karl, that was over a hunnert years ago." If you didn't know already, you might be ignorant. I've often told the tragic story of bun and her friends getting fresh hairdos, new make-up and dressed up to the nines heading out Mat-Su valley-wide to go dancing, drinking and having a night out on the town. Each of the taverns, restaurants and dance halls forbid bun and her native girlfriends from entering the premises simply because they were obviously native. This happened in the late 70's in the colony settlements of first white Alaskans: Palmer and Wasilla. You coppers would be majorly hacked if I was the doorman at a restaurant or bar and blocked your entry because you had mixed mud tan kids and really brown wife in tow. Totally true and a blight on the history of the racist, bigoted valley of trash. My diatribe ain't so funny any longer is it?
Okay, you decide if I'm spinning a yarn, repeating a bogus legend, or reporting the straight shit. One tale I've told a lot of old hens here at the happy valley geezer farm happened in Washington State when I was a kid. Chicken is a big business menu item in Washington and a lot of the senior centers there have simmering pots of chicken soup available all day long. It's a healthy snack for us old cripples and available at all hours as an extra meal instead shit-ass junk food like sticky sweets and greasy fat kid stuff. This soup du jour parallels the massive popularity of the Chicken Soup for the Soul book series enjoyed by us blind, deaf, bald and toothless geriatric folk. A bowl of chicken soup, some Saltine Crackers, strong cups of coffee followed by a couple cigarettes or a big delicious dip of chewing tobacco, and shit, you done got a good fucking square boomer meal. Fuck, grandpa, that'll make a turd! Now you know why so many rest home toilets flush, late at night after Johnny Carson.
At a rest home near the goat poon mud farm I was spawned and grew up, to save money, the kitchen chefs were cooking their soup stock with necks and backs of chickens from Arkansas. These were the cheaper packages available at butcher shops, frozen and shipped from out of state. This wasn't common practice, but using out of state, lower quality, lower price chicken for their soup stock seemed a smart money-saving plan. Well, some bizarre shit started to happen.
Most rest homes have an onsite nurses or physician's assistant to tend to the normal old folks day-to-day maladies such as dispensing aspiring for arthritis, milk of magnesia for constipation or stomach remedies like Pepto-Bismol for indigestion. Over a few weeks and months, batches of old women were appearing at the nurses station with vaginal bleeding and painful abdominal cramps, plus evil wicked mood swings. And I wasn't even fucking them. I swear. Honest injun.
Under examination it seems that nearly all the old ladies at the rest home were spontaneously starting their monthly periods again. Decades after suffering menopause and years after burying their husbands. Medical experts were consulted and the data indicated only that particular rest home was under the onslaught of bleeding mysteries and whose old women-folk were again needing to purchase feminine paper products. The same paper products that us fathers and husbands ran to Valu-House, Eckhardt's, AC or Hanson's Trading to purchase for our wives and daughters when the red tide came in. Are ye catching my drift?
The explanation that emerged was the out of state chicken, namely cheap Arkansas chicken was so pumped full of the poultry growth hormones that by cooking chicken soup stock with necks and backs the soup became a super rich source of hormones that played havoc on the grandmas living there. Necks and backs are a common ingredient for soup stock but those parts of Arkansas chicken, the spines and spinal cords, are where the highest concentrations of this residual poultry growth hormones are found: even after freezing, shipping and simmering hours in soups. The other parts of chicken like breasts, wings and thighs showed much lower levels of these animal growth hormones.
The old gals at the rest home were all having a severe physiological reactions and their menstrual cycles kicked back in. Imagine the recurring nightmares from a million fucking years ago finding spotting in your underwear or diapers or worse spotting on your bed linens or wheelchair. Needless to say, after the headlines in the Seattle Times and the Seattle Post Intelligencer, that particular rest home and rest homes statewide discontinued using shitty cheap out of state chicken. The Washington State Capitol also stepped in and passed sweeping legislation banning the importation of livestock, poultry, swine and mutton from states that pumped their live meat stocks with so much steroids and hormones that their packaged meat products look like Frankenstein snuff movies or Arnold Schwarzenegger porn.
Of course, now everybody nationwide restricts shitty additives in their meat and dairy products but it's a true story and decades ahead of it's time. No BS. No urban myth. My white haired audiences don't enjoy this tale one bit. I'm guessing my old fart readers from OTZ ain't amused either.
You see, I'm speaking from experience. In the worlds I inhabited, the kinds of people I trafficked with and my peers I sold guns to at a hunnert gun shows and sold drugs to at my dozen cocaine parlors were also dealers in racist adult versions of children's fairy tales. They were segregationists, anti-integration separatists, cultists, conspiracy theorists, militias, radical reactionaries, revolutionists, trolls, goblins and parasites. I sold stolen computer software and even researched, hacked and absconded data to journalist whistle blowers who worked relentlessly bringing Alaskan corruption and crime to the light of day. Only realizing that it's already in broad daylight and it don't matter. We Alaskans don't give a shit about corruption and nobody cares one wit. I got my money, go eat dirt dokbuk. That's old school playground Inupiaq fer nigger.
I need to let you in on a secret, there's two kinds of cons: the short con and the long con. Short cons are brief and allow me to fool a sucker out of his money or drugs and I'm cross-town or out of state. Did, done, deal. The long con requires tremendous build up. I need to create elements of conspiracy that feeds their own delusions or greed. Most are hardly original and are based on themes from age-old urban myths and legends. I often compose tales about a cabal of rich and powerful men such as Jews, Masons, Illuminati, Satanists or pedophiles that are secretly conducting wicked business, planning genocides, creating sadomasochistic pleasure palaces on remote islands. Look at the majority of media postings and shit gushing out of talk radio, the gullible masses hungrily eat this brown soup slurping turds with two forks. Even you bought the Epstein legend of his supposed faked and staged suicide in prison after Bill Gates of Microsoft and the English princes Harry and Andrew were doing dead babies while being unwittingly recorded on hidden cameras. Complete, absolute hooey.
To further my bullshit's authenticity and believably, I add in the rigging of national democratic elections, racist code words like ballot harvesting and voting tabulating machine hacking. Plus add the bogus myth about hoarding stockpiles of the world's remaining scarce resources in secret bunkers: we got live suckers on the line. If I concoct a believable bullshit tale of evil webs of influence extending to the highest levels of government, CEO's of major corporations, billionaire entrepreneurs, wealthy investment bankers and all the world's royal families, that's the point I have my hill folk rubes nodding their heads and I know fer sure I got one on the hook. I suspect you coppers have personal friends that got caught up in all that nonsense and instead of calling our closest moron-pals dumber'n niggers, we can take a more subtle approach and suggest they change their ugly stupid children's names to Kunta Kinte. An old white fart reference to the Roots TV series starring LeVon Burton, blind melon colored feller.
Speaking of dark people and even darker brains, the world has repeatedly visited it's own self-inflicted Dark Ages. I ain't shitting, as humans we've enjoyed epic slaughter and torture far worse than the Spanish Inquisition, retarded January 6th capitol trashing and public urination, or worse, Seward's Folly. Burning books en masse like the Library of Alexandria or book depositories in Wasilla, us 907 bigots turned off the literary lights of every subsequent century and our advanced sciences regressed back to silly superstitions, wives' tales and religious disinformation on a grand biblical scale.
Just a scant 500 years ago we all witnessed brilliant breakthroughs in astronomy and chemistry, yet within the following decades we sucked ass with silly replacement shit like astrology and alchemy. It's called Cancel Culture and bibles are the dip shit's replacement to whole buildings full of mankind's accumulated literature. Mysticism and magic is a moron's version of real science and if we kill all them smarter motherfuckers, our retarded Alaskan boroughs can fill our churches and demolish our university system. Wily killers like you coppers have read a thousand books, thick-headed mongoloids of a southern gospel persuasion have read only one.
Even in your lifetimes you've seen stupid shit like the phony conspiracies surrounding fluoride in public drinking water being discussed amongst your inbred church clergy as a communist plot to kill our children and "corrupt our most precious bodily fluids" (Dr. Strangelove), not save and protect their teeth and strengthen bones. Conspiracy butt fuckers won't listen to the statistical data indicating fluoride in tap water brings us a 25% decrease in dental carries and bone fractures throughout rural Alaska and statewide.
Cell phones were fictitiously described as brain tumor causing 2-way radios, AIDS/HIV was invented at Fort Wainwright by mad scientists as a means to kill black soldiers and children's vaccines are now thought to be the cause of autism and down syndrome. Complete and undiluted bullshit. Autism and down syndrome are caused by older women over the age of 30 and obese women breeding like monkeys in heat.
Butt-heavy cunt blobs and women giving birth over the age of 30 have steadily increasing rates of children suffering autism and down syndrome. Yup, overweight morbid blimps or over 30 and yer spawn is likely to be deformed, so breed with only fine tasty young babes, not blown out fat hags. Oh shit. Sorry, I may be warning you too late. Another harsh statistic published in the First Alaskans Institute states that native women only comprise 9% of Alaska's total population yet produce 90% of our state's fetal alcohol syndrome babies. Maternal alcoholism is the number one cause of prenatal mental retardation in America. Fuck! I prefer 'em young and tipsy. Sober chicks are clumsy, awkward and dry. I got scars from humping young sober girls like a locomotive sending smoke signals to surrounding villages.
As far as aging women breeding, a girl has tough choices: go to college and nail a high paying career or make yer babies before yer eggs get rotten. It's a new fad where old fat cunts on hormones and steroids believe pooping out stupid gimpy babies will make them more attractive to us men. Ick, that's a distasteful bucket of shit soup. If I'm off to have another affair, it ain't gonna be with a fat old broad. That's gross. I'd rather jerk off with YOUR hand.
For cyber butt-fuckers like me to successfully convince a million mongoloids of one of my silly misinformation notions, I need to play a game of 'withhold and reveal' and echo strongly held tall tales, lies and con games our mothers and grandmothers spewd on us. Think back to Grimm's Fairy Tales like Hansel and Gretel. True stories that originated in an era of mass starvation and plague epidemics leaving dead babies stacked upon yer porches we couldn't afford to feed. We killed our meaner, dumber ugly kids, then up made shit how they ended up dead. I tell fairy tales about fairy gay men and old hag witches that cooked and ate them, not my strangling them and dumping them at the end of a trail of bread crumbs next door to Tommy or Tubby Goodwin's house. Or Clifford Melton's or Enoch Kenworthy's. Attaching mortal sin to natives, faggots and doksibuks makes my made-up shit even more believable. What the fuck, you dildos bought it.
To get our attention as little kids, our grandmas would retell us old wives' tales by starting with something outrageous like hairy palms or going blind, add a little homely detail to give it a dash of realism, embellishing her story with personal aspects like watching her own brothers masturbate furiously (likely while she fingered her own stinky flippers). But being smarter'n her dim sibs, old biddies add confabulations flattering like "I know you'd never spank yer trouser monster and squeeze off a few rounds looking at awful dirty magazines like Playboy." Of course grandma, I'd never do that. I fucked yer dog. My brother Cully raped yer cat and like Virgil Kennedy poked it's eyes out, then broke it's neck. Even future Washington serial killers like us were slow, ugly children but we never bought my grandma's bullshit. I remember Cully collecting cat's teeth after violent feline foreplay. He'd pull 'em outa his dick with pliers. Then mix 'em in my folks' jar of mayo. Shit, I'll bet yer slow grand kids would believe that tale.
This crap works on grown dumb shits when we're told stories in a context that it really happened. With a straight face I've told gullible old white cunts that me and bun lost our minds and lived our entire working careers in weird villages of drugged up FAS half-breed Inuit zombies that celebrated dog eating and fucking, cults of demonic incestuous natives that served their children to us as meat puppets to spooge or fringe conspiracy zealots that engaged in massive sick hippy anal sex parties up the highway near Willow. Just writing this shit leads me to believe it myself. Maybe it really happened. Next time yer in Caswell Lakes, knock on some rustic cabin doors and ask them about sick hippy anal sex parties. I'm sure those fine citizen hillbillies looking like cast members from the film Deliverance will be happy to do ye a show and tell.
I've even furthered conspiracies that modern COVD vaccines will give yer retarded daughters big hairy gonads and put tits on yer faggot grandsons. My explanation was that its better to snort piles of Ivermectin, the veterinary livestock de-worming medicine. That shit'll will make yer brown trout interesting to pick through, sort out the crumbs and nibble the good bits. If you add a dose of hydroxychloroquine an effective anti-malarial medication you can perform heroic jungle warfare deeds. How many faggots at KPD boasted service in Viet Nam? Now that shit was totally bogus.
Dumb ass faggot retards like some of the soggy rotten old fuckers here at the old folk's home tell stories they served in all the coolest wars and conflict zones. Sure, like they really fought in Viet Nam and were also in the Invasion on Normandy Beach. They're not lying faggots. They're cool wanna-be commandos, Seal Teams, Deltas and Green Berets. It's true, they practiced all their expert combat techniques with homo-boy GI JOE play dolls (after drilling butt holes and gluing on plastic make-believe penises). I'll never tire of poking foible at loser wife beaters and retired fudge packers. Alaska attracts only the best.
During our last power outage, instead of explaining that wind blew trees across power lines, I sold a yarn to a brood of soggy diapered grannies that the Canadians detonated an electromagnetic pulse device and took down our entire power grid servicing the Kenai Peninsula. The Kenai is a backwards dim-tard culture packed with weird white hill folk that believe my stupid shit. I've even sprinkled BS tidbits that Canada influenced out most recent national elections because Canadians are trying to destroy our way of life and are superstitious about our electing red headed presidents with little tiny cookoos and sperm-caked orange ass bush-pubes. Canada is further pissed we replaced Red Turd One with a mumbling, stumbling Mr. Magoo. Truth be told, Canada don't give two shits about what we do here in dumb ol' Alaska. They got a shit load of ignorant folks causing enough problems to keep them busy.
If I publish my stupid shit across the spectrum of anti-social media I simply patch together nonsensical versions of reality, then flood your news sources, asshole websites and YouTube influencers easily manipulating my inbred cross-eyed neighbor rubes plugged into our old folks permanent digital 5-G broadband internet equipped wheelchair parking lot and vegetative greenhouse granny storage facility. My policy is to pack their pointed ears with only a small kernel of truth and then lead them down a trail of butt crumbs towards absurd scenarios reasonable and logical.
You'd be surprised how many normal people believed my tales that our children are phone and internet zombies, suffering brain damage, absorbing homosexual agendas, transgender programming and practice extreme sexual perversions like anal fisting they see on their phones and computer monitors. Totally hokey bullshit. I've scared children with tales that old folks want to harvest their organs after we ass-fuck 'em to death and I've terrorized elderly fools that their children have the legal right to imprison them in feces soaked old folks' hellholes. Not unlike the places you coppers parked yer crispy wives.
After sober newspapers croaked and turned to kitty litter tray liners, most of the things we thought were acceptable facts and our shared truths died at the same time. I found that opportunity to question science, math, documented historical facts corroborated by dozens of witnesses open to verification, and replace them with completely made up shit. At that point I could tell imbeciles that American mass school shootings were faked and staged by grieving parents portrayed by crisis actors.
30-50% gullibility is an excellent market share to exploit with stupid advertisements to buy phony male enhancement products like Enzyte for a bigger penis, cake lotion makeup that will magically remove wrinkles on yer face and save you money with Humana Medicare Supplement plans. I've even told hungover dudes at my UW fraternity that Preparation H magically cures puffy alcoholic eyes. Complete crap. Believers in mass media propaganda are also voters and us sober sane working stiffs have a hard time believing these idiotic TV hypnotized GED dill-rods could actually find a voting booth with both eyes super-glued to gay porn on their phones starring our fatter KPD coworkers with the assistance of digital deep fakes. Deep fucks too. The brown ring around yer forearm under yer blue uniform smells real but is an illusionary drug-induced mirage. You dill-rods oughta quit smoking sawgigrock stink weed.
Speaking of phone fun, I frequently tell dull goofy looking Appalachian broads working at Walmart's that I finally downloaded the Walmart Bathroom Spy App to my phone and it sure is good viewing. They look at me with their dull 907 peepers and ask which app was I referring to. My response was to tell them that I stay up late at night and watch the Walmart Potty Cam and farm girls pissing and shitting on the toilet are smoking hot jerking material. My wife has since taken my phone away and secretly watches the mens' bathroom video feeds to watch urinal spanking and gonad bag toilet dunking. I've repeated it so many times, upon entering the restrooms, employee and customers all looks upwards for video cameras prior to taking a dump, pushing out a hillbilly miscarriage or spraying femmy feline concentrated piss all over the fucking place.
I spun doozies here at the old white trash senior center about Anchorage being invaded by pandemic lunacy and that everybody still has to wear surgical masks due to another reported influenza epidemic and that the next COVID virus attacks senior citizens with false teeth, missing lungs and live in trailers. As a safety precaution, all our grandsons will need to super glue layers of condoms on their dicks and silicone seal their assholes shut because homeless natives are all sick with HIV and you can catch AIDS using public shitters where NW Arctic brown-tards camp out, do drugs and made a home. To further my hysteria, I reported this last Halloween Muslims were beating children with clubs and urinating in their mouths if they went out without the proper rag headgear and homosexuals wearing clownish face paints were kidnapping children and filling them with anally injected genetically-altering transgender DNA-rich sperm.
Rednecks here on the Kenai are paranoid since Anchorage installed thousands of closed circuit video cameras equipped with facial recognition software. I recommended we all wear Muslim veils, gimpy theatrical prosthetic penises, goofy sports game mascot heads or simple Halloween masks to avoid arrest, torture and interrogation for suspicion of being dull incestuous illegal Palmer immigrants, angry, fickle and dumb Dunleavy supporters or limping activist liberal faggots with an anus the size of a nigger's fist. My stupid shit is endless. Funny too.
Eskimos are worse and believe the crap I heave. During a discussion at ANMC about MMIW (missing murdered indigenous women) the consensus amongst the old wrinkled nate-squaws was all the missing women from Nome were abducted by aliens or a serial killer. I smiled and listened to their caked butt puckey tales of native girls they knew that disappeared and were never seen or heard from again. I declined to correct my company of no-teefer shrunken head inukuns that nearly all the bodies have been found and the cause of death was almost always acute alcohol intoxication and exposure to extreme cold weather.
Meaning drinking to coma, passing out and freezing their flea-bitten gash, frosting their over-ripe cooz and packing drifting snow in their quiff sniff pockets. The FBI with AST did an exhaustive job investigating Nome, Alaska's MMIW bitches and humbly asserted that rough sleeping wasted outdoors kilt them, not mysterious criminals nor little green men in flying saucers from outer space that abducted little brown women with big green vaginas. In closing, I add a funny quote that, "according to Eddie Murphy, only Captain Kirk fucked a green bitch" and Captain Kirk may live on a space ship, but he don't visit Nome to get wasted and slobber green pussy. Only Judge Rick and Suzy Erlich's grandson Jr. scrawgs shit like that.
After the bleeding hut discussion of the UFO and serial killer plot wained, I sneaked in the possibility that MMIW corpsicals disappeared into the rural Alaskan (OHI) organ harvesting industry. After every native woman vanishes we'll see freshly stocked inventories of new kidneys, lungs, eyes, hands, livers, intestines and pancreases on sale and available just upstairs. At that moment in the ANMC cafeteria, I simply point upwards to the operating rooms overhead and mention the leading physician, Doc Sibbuck. I further explained native organs are needed specifically for native patients and I've seen hospitals in Kotzebue, Nome, Barrow and Bethel quickly rip out beating hearts and all their tissues, plus pluck out both their eyes leaving "millions of native women still fuckable, but blind, unable to shit and dead." My last quote leaves me all alone in the ANMC Hospital Housing cafeteria. Is it something I said?
I like my resume cuz it's dirtier than the used goopy toilet paper you just sneaked and hid in yer grand kid's lunch box. I worked for state bacon outfits, narc squads, law firms that were best described as political hit teams, corporate Alaskan espionage cabals, data-mining collection bins, DNA gathering police backed clinics, various fascist political action committees and cultist nonprofits funded and operated by future and past Alaska Supreme Court judges. I have a long list of masters.
Here's a funny tidbit. After I did the narc job flying with UAF Professor Robert Logan from Bradley Field to Barrow, facilitated his alcohol and drug sales, then testified against him on state payroll, my sins are now much more extensive. I got an email from a former grad student that worked for Logan, was also active in the AIP (Alaska Independence Party) and he stated that I was instrumental as the suspected hit man in the murder of Joe Vogler. I smiled and replied with an email response that his claims may be built on sand, but entirely true. The same applied to his homosexuality.
My insult to this femmy faggy email pal went unfazed and he further explained that I worked for a dangerous political group that is hellbent on destroying the Alaska Independence Party. By murdering old man Joe Vogler, framing a mentally unstable dumpster diver, then wrongly entrapping and incarcerating Bob Logan, the heir to the AIP party throne, I was complicit in operating with a cabal that will take away our PFD, our gun rights and return Alaska to all them fucking natives. Maybe he's right.
At UAF it's obvious my classmates and grad school cohorts operate in a netherworld of radical arguments where lies have status as honorary truth if they further some perceived historical purpose. Come to think of it, maybe I did murder Joe Vogler then framed a dip shit patsy, and finally entangled Robert Logan in numerous felonies and clipping his wings. Bullshit is far more interesting than our simple boring careers as paid narcs and contract agents fer dumb cop outfits. I'm innocent. To claim otherwise is an outrage.
"For murder, though it hath no tongue, will speak with the most miraculous organ." (Shakespeare)
For the record, I never touched any drugs, nor firearms. Plus I never laid a hand on any drunks, derelicts, niggers, druggies, crooks, criminals nor natives. But, you coppers know, a lot of rural and urban Alaskans might have our shit figured out. If there was a magic crystal ball that could view our most vicious crimes, shit, we'd be so busted. I'm not admitting to anything if my crimes implicate any fuckers still living. But once dead, the gloves come off. After the last of you coppers piss, shit, choke and puke my stories might take a turn for the credible and I'll speak freely about the shit we did.
Don't fret, I spent most of my life as a useful tool carrying out deliveries for Alaska State Troopers purchasing illegal drugs, industrial espionage for the university and messing with the outcomes of local borough and school board elections in the Mat-Su and burning down homes of problematic bloggers like me. To obfuscate any rational evidence, the bloggers I burned out and killed are not even remotely connected to any Alaskan community or the real world either. Like yer spouses, I'm more dangerous than herpes.
I pay no attention to the human face of native village extermination from fetal alcohol syndrome, earthquake victims here in Alaska, stock market crashes that lost the Permanent Fund billions, statewide congenital syphillus pandemics or 907 real estate recessions because vulnerable Alaskans are supposed to perish. They're inevitably prone to extinction and I don't give a fuck. Here, let me give you hand. If yer a minority fucker at Death's Door, I'll pull ye through.
You coppers smell my mental illness. My humorous scribbling mesh with real crimes and I'm failing to keep my past crimes and homicides compartmentalized. I did jobs to protect and enrich my crack house and mortuary, then put these events in a box and forget about them. I seal the evil memories in a vault that I'll never open and in this is the way I can move as a functional person through a dozen colleges, urban and spastic rural worlds, work at undetermined numbers of police departments and learn retarded life lessons from you lot. I know, I'm fucked.
Fear not, there's plenty more where that came from. When I was working overseas I made numerous donations to the Svalbard Global Seed Vault. It's a super secure underground seed bank on the Island of Spitsbergen in Norway where seeds are stored to preserve genetic diversity and protect rare endangered species. Including species pathetic, hyperactive and blond haired alcoholic simps like me.
Norway has created a repository for extinct genes that will last thousands of years. In your next reincarnation I'll have offspring and bio-siblings there to amuse you coppers with stupid emails and piss you off at work.
Next time around, don't hire them to work at your local police department, VPSO office, state troopers or statewide drug outfits. It'll save you coppers filling their files with numerous write-ups, reprimands, suspensions and layoffs and save you lot from migraines and a fuck load of heartburn.
Where life is more terrible than death, it is then, the truest valor to want to live. Even in the old folk's clink, I miss working, smoking and fucking with you guys.
Karl.
I was thinking of good tombstone epitaphs and one that sticks is, "This is an outrage!" I like it cuz it could be our own grave marker or chiseled on our best friends' promises to quit alcohol, tobacco and finally follow their doctor's orders. For a brief period after cessation, complete sobriety appears to us an aneurysm-inducing event. When I buy gasoline I see new large placards boldly informing customers that chew, smoke, vape and synthetic nicotine candy (like Zyn) manufacturers intentionally design their products to be vastly more addictive. Right next this big cardboard advert is another informing me there are 1200 tobacco-related deaths in America every single day. Fuck me, that's pert near 450,000 corpses in a heap, every year. It's a fucking miracle the scant last of us are still talking, we should've been history long ago. Now that's an outrage.
Speaking of mass extermination, I think my history professors at UAF could also claim this outrageous slogan when lecturing archaeological data indicating riotous volcanic eruptions such as the behemoth in 536 BC that caused a short-term ice age, devastating famine and buckled the Rocks of Gibraltar. This collapse of the Gibraltar ridge line opened up the Atlantic Ocean and completely flooded the Mediterranean Valley resulting in separation of Europe from Africa and a mass extinction of 2-legged bipedal hairless monkeys looking strikingly like our NANA neighbors, but cleaner and whiter than our wife-beater NWAB mayor. Vern, Bobby and Clement Richards are pictures in the dictionary white folks point to when describing quarter breed nigger trash.
When new oceans open and flood valleys the size of Eden, Kotzebue surfaced exposing bad soils and bad real estate for filthy fucking humans to breed, piss and shit. When a million humans drown on one side of the Earth, shitty brown sour smelling illegal immigrants gush like diarrhea onto a new continent finding new sewers and grovels to dirty. Some believe the crumbling of the Gibraltar ridge line a biblical event cleansing millions of murderous motherfuckers, but fuck, ain't we all offspring of murderers? We survived to move to a recently emerged shit hole spit nigruk, work public safety, marry lousy Inuits and die from tobacco and stress surrounded by other cops. An outrage I declare.
I dare say and humbly submit mouth breathing knuckle dragging brutes in uniform are the chosen few, while faggot civilian smart-asses secretly whisper "blow job" under their breath. We are here today as genetic survivors of all sorts of butt-fuckery and we should bow our heads to the billions who've died from earthquakes, floods, or our very own hands and in solemn prayer say, "Sucks to be you niggers!" Even if yer paler'n a paleo, floods drown rats in droves, plagues are equal opportunity killers and our busted homicidal hands don't discriminate one bit. Dead is dead.
Dark early mornings are a nightmare awake or dead. This late evening at 2:30 am fills me with the urge to find another expensive cigar with my name on it, torch up an imported cigarette or incinerate my lungs with a bong rip of crystal green bud smashed in yellow glass. A toke Hercules himself would put his seal of approval upon. I'm so old I no longer remember my mother's maiden name, the smell of her internal organs I was entombed nor the taste of the amniotic fluids I swallowed whilst pissing, shitting and swimming in. When we die, know one remembers our shit, where we tossed our own umbilical cord or dumped the placenta we choked and spit out before screaming in anger at the taste from 9 months eating pregnant pussy from the inside. I'm a flogged toddler Finn, I'm bitter, life sucks and I'm sober. In Eskimo I klivut, in Hebrew I'm kvetching. Normally I gravitate to what the Irish call the good man's weakness: drink. Not this late night. God I need a smoke.
Back to the eruption and earthquake that flooded the ancient Mediterranean Garden of Eden and fast forward a chunk of time. We see another disastrous eruption in 1349 that darkened skies nearly identical to, but not as bad as the chain of volcanic eruptions in 1520 that gave us another bitchin' ice age, plus another plague. A century or more later, we scoffed at the oil on canvas paintings depicting George Washington Crossing the Delaware dodging icebergs. We were originally taught this artist's rendition was a bit of disinformation, but it seems it was fairly accurate. America was really fucking cold at the birth of our country and arctic weather played to our advantage in kicking Brit Butt off the continent. And to our advantage in subsequent mass murders of a billion horrid smelling indigenous poop factories and whose births proved Mexicans fucked buffalo.
This catastrophic series of volcanic eruptions in 1520 provided us multi-century winters and these paintings of gorgeous George were NOT exaggeration, propaganda nor puffery. Big volcanoes do indeed fuck up yer sunny summers upriver at fish camp. Enjoy your man-made global warming while it lasts. Hell, maybe Jesus will magically reappear and help strangle and kick your child molesting, wife beating Inuit nigger foes' ass. I'm sure he'd happily kill offspring motherfuckers that murdered his favorite banished son, Manilaq. Even with holes in his hands. And feet.
The reason I went off on this retarded tangent about violent climate change, violent nate-extermination and anti-tobacco campaigns is because we visited some supremely elderly vaginal beings of the matronly type and the mythical shit they were discussing was bizarre. These old gals won't let me say "grandma" directly to their plastic faces because they've paid for the best nips and tucks and were completely full of modern day misinformation. Dude's, they weren't fooling anybody about their ages and their belief in old wives' tales. Old is old and my neighbors are FOS (full of shit). My wife told me an old Eskimo legend states that if you grimace during your younger years, it'll stick and you'll live yer waning years with a permanent bitch-frown. I added the old Finnish proverb stating "a face a man has by the age of 50, is a face he has earned." After a life of aboriginal skeletal and occipital rearrangements my face is quite serene.
Furthermore, this murderous face of mine is so handsome, I'm haunting really. Shit, I still have the dying urge to force feed whiskered lippy wide open, convulse, spaz and dump a million salmon way upriver to spawn. You fuckers shouldn't even try lying to me. If you were faced with a pair of large round 22-year old breasts staring directly at you and greasing yer crank with a familiar bitter-stinking perfumed aroma dating back to the day you were born, yer johnson would pert near burst and push a cervix way deep and heave out a tote full of king salmon leaving yer fat bat internally sore and immensely happy. Then you can die.
Instead of natural beauty from exercise, sobriety and mass murder like mine, my neighbors are synthetic grannies squinched up and reproachful members of the senior citizens coalition of right-minded, right-wing beauty parlor bitches and believe everything is a conspiracy. Including those "made up" tobacco warnings. Living in the bastion of red neck thinking, you coppers all know stubborn broods of dried up conservative cult ladies that freely dispute everything: health, elections, medicines and world events. We're peer boomer members in league with botox Sarah Palin look-alike know-it-all cunts with fish lips, black lungs and trout pouts. Artificially youthful and permanently sneering pinch-faced white biddies eat up social media content like stool samples with a side order of right-wing nut-job conservative talk radio as an appetizer. It's ALL a disinformation conspiracy campaign. Including any and all crimes I may have committed.
You see, since we've joined rank, ripe membership and ancient status, we all know uppity white women like that. In my dust fart chats I kept mum that poor ignorant whites like me and minorities consume tobacco products and I kept silent about prevailing beliefs that voters of color, meaning niggers, gooks, natives, spics, dinks, slopes and chinks are forever wrong-minded due to their dermatological hue impairment and will never understand that skin color plays a role in fucking up national and statewide elections. I even stayed mute that it's our job to keep minority people dead, diluted, down and out, free of ballot booths. I'm a member of a small minority, with only 6-9% voter turnout in Alaska, seems icky old crackers and sour hymies skip voting at every election too. I save my richest, wettest farts for the voting stations.
These white bitches may be sympathetic to the plights of certain suffering non-white 907 monkeys, but gimpy first slave darkies possess predetermined membership to flocks, herds and tribes of traditionally disadvantaged entities and are invariably marginalized losers. Whereas poor white hillbilly AK welfare trash are shitty and poor because they're simply trash. Poor folks of any color are burdened with the stigma of being "brood mares breeding for welfare." My neighbors honestly believe Alaska's minority dark-nates just "lay around and fuck all the time, they don't work." Well shit, we shant let them vote, cuz it's them wiggers and colored folk that believe they are immune to mass media manipulation. Not us wrinkled pink chimps. That would be an outrage.
Old white women are funny dusty twat-licks. They'll tell ye that killing colored folks with poverty is a tragic melancholy event and we sincerely perform acts of contrition and Christian forgiveness, yet elect dildos promising to slash social programs and public assistance budgets, then rip food stamps right outa tar baby's mouths. My old white neighbors aren't concerned about Black Lives Matter rallies that destroy major cities nationwide. Ironically those riots tend to only kill blacks and destroy black neighborhoods. Oh shit, another rap ghetto and native village burned to the ground. I think I'll have a Diet Coke. Total destruction with zero survivors is a good thing cuz we could slip into a race war that would lead, ultimately, to a right-wing takeover and a kinder, gentler fascist police state. 'Cept fer niggers and homeless nate-shite, everything would be all better then. Vote Adolf Ewing fer guv. Or NWAB mayor.
Sitting with my old white biddy neighbors, it's a forgone conclusion that we fully predict black and brown victims of my quick painless homicides, or economic and political subterfuge will all die with displays of gentle surprise on their faces like heavy sleepers abruptly awakened. When we witness poor colored folk living much shorter lives due to curable poor educations, poor health and poor family planning, we see in their dead eyes that they were once someone's little baby monkey and will die with a hint of infant wonder, hopefully gazing upon and trusting in a world that will have mercy upon them. Not in yer dreams shit-skin.
Speaking to pretentious hillbilly women on the Kenai, it's perfectly understandable that someone's gotta lose in the statewide battle over Alaska's scarce and dwindling resources. No heating oil, subsistence foods nor shillings for mukluks means it sucks to be ancient and born with yer rural arctic ass on backwards. White folks happily kill everybody else. Dopey minorities don't understand that you can have a good discussion with a white dude like me who is thinking of killing you. You can tell white folks good dirty or racist jokes and they will laugh profusely with you. You can love working with 'em, marrying them, living in their stolen state even if you know that we will inevitably murder you. I looked in the mirror and it's true, white folks are like that. Elections, being the most difficult of thefts imply we Vote Red and Make Alaska White Again.
I've relayed stories to old white folks here at the greener pastured waning golden years of decline and death about the year me and bun lived in Nome. At the library they have old signs from the Gold Rush years of 1890-1905. Aside from Alaska's second large-scale gold rush flim-flam scam drawing suckers from around the world with bogus tales of misinformation promising gold nuggets the size of apples just laying on the beach, there's a couple of enlarged historical pictures of Front Street. Bars, boutiques, restaurants, trading posts and haberdasheries were packed in super tight, but in all the entry ways were signs that stated, "No dogs, No natives allowed." Ain't that a laughable pisser? Imagine the graffiti I'd paint over a "Spay and neuter your dog or cat" sign and inserted "including indigenous welfare brood mares." I know interracial marriages are a pain in the ass, but my stupid humor and a can of spray paint would possibly make our wretched lives much easier. And humorous. With a shotgun chaser, of course.
I can hear you thinking, "Fuck Karl, that was over a hunnert years ago." If you didn't know already, you might be ignorant. I've often told the tragic story of bun and her friends getting fresh hairdos, new make-up and dressed up to the nines heading out Mat-Su valley-wide to go dancing, drinking and having a night out on the town. Each of the taverns, restaurants and dance halls forbid bun and her native girlfriends from entering the premises simply because they were obviously native. This happened in the late 70's in the colony settlements of first white Alaskans: Palmer and Wasilla. You coppers would be majorly hacked if I was the doorman at a restaurant or bar and blocked your entry because you had mixed mud tan kids and really brown wife in tow. Totally true and a blight on the history of the racist, bigoted valley of trash. My diatribe ain't so funny any longer is it?
Okay, you decide if I'm spinning a yarn, repeating a bogus legend, or reporting the straight shit. One tale I've told a lot of old hens here at the happy valley geezer farm happened in Washington State when I was a kid. Chicken is a big business menu item in Washington and a lot of the senior centers there have simmering pots of chicken soup available all day long. It's a healthy snack for us old cripples and available at all hours as an extra meal instead shit-ass junk food like sticky sweets and greasy fat kid stuff. This soup du jour parallels the massive popularity of the Chicken Soup for the Soul book series enjoyed by us blind, deaf, bald and toothless geriatric folk. A bowl of chicken soup, some Saltine Crackers, strong cups of coffee followed by a couple cigarettes or a big delicious dip of chewing tobacco, and shit, you done got a good fucking square boomer meal. Fuck, grandpa, that'll make a turd! Now you know why so many rest home toilets flush, late at night after Johnny Carson.
At a rest home near the goat poon mud farm I was spawned and grew up, to save money, the kitchen chefs were cooking their soup stock with necks and backs of chickens from Arkansas. These were the cheaper packages available at butcher shops, frozen and shipped from out of state. This wasn't common practice, but using out of state, lower quality, lower price chicken for their soup stock seemed a smart money-saving plan. Well, some bizarre shit started to happen.
Most rest homes have an onsite nurses or physician's assistant to tend to the normal old folks day-to-day maladies such as dispensing aspiring for arthritis, milk of magnesia for constipation or stomach remedies like Pepto-Bismol for indigestion. Over a few weeks and months, batches of old women were appearing at the nurses station with vaginal bleeding and painful abdominal cramps, plus evil wicked mood swings. And I wasn't even fucking them. I swear. Honest injun.
Under examination it seems that nearly all the old ladies at the rest home were spontaneously starting their monthly periods again. Decades after suffering menopause and years after burying their husbands. Medical experts were consulted and the data indicated only that particular rest home was under the onslaught of bleeding mysteries and whose old women-folk were again needing to purchase feminine paper products. The same paper products that us fathers and husbands ran to Valu-House, Eckhardt's, AC or Hanson's Trading to purchase for our wives and daughters when the red tide came in. Are ye catching my drift?
The explanation that emerged was the out of state chicken, namely cheap Arkansas chicken was so pumped full of the poultry growth hormones that by cooking chicken soup stock with necks and backs the soup became a super rich source of hormones that played havoc on the grandmas living there. Necks and backs are a common ingredient for soup stock but those parts of Arkansas chicken, the spines and spinal cords, are where the highest concentrations of this residual poultry growth hormones are found: even after freezing, shipping and simmering hours in soups. The other parts of chicken like breasts, wings and thighs showed much lower levels of these animal growth hormones.
The old gals at the rest home were all having a severe physiological reactions and their menstrual cycles kicked back in. Imagine the recurring nightmares from a million fucking years ago finding spotting in your underwear or diapers or worse spotting on your bed linens or wheelchair. Needless to say, after the headlines in the Seattle Times and the Seattle Post Intelligencer, that particular rest home and rest homes statewide discontinued using shitty cheap out of state chicken. The Washington State Capitol also stepped in and passed sweeping legislation banning the importation of livestock, poultry, swine and mutton from states that pumped their live meat stocks with so much steroids and hormones that their packaged meat products look like Frankenstein snuff movies or Arnold Schwarzenegger porn.
Of course, now everybody nationwide restricts shitty additives in their meat and dairy products but it's a true story and decades ahead of it's time. No BS. No urban myth. My white haired audiences don't enjoy this tale one bit. I'm guessing my old fart readers from OTZ ain't amused either.
You see, I'm speaking from experience. In the worlds I inhabited, the kinds of people I trafficked with and my peers I sold guns to at a hunnert gun shows and sold drugs to at my dozen cocaine parlors were also dealers in racist adult versions of children's fairy tales. They were segregationists, anti-integration separatists, cultists, conspiracy theorists, militias, radical reactionaries, revolutionists, trolls, goblins and parasites. I sold stolen computer software and even researched, hacked and absconded data to journalist whistle blowers who worked relentlessly bringing Alaskan corruption and crime to the light of day. Only realizing that it's already in broad daylight and it don't matter. We Alaskans don't give a shit about corruption and nobody cares one wit. I got my money, go eat dirt dokbuk. That's old school playground Inupiaq fer nigger.
I need to let you in on a secret, there's two kinds of cons: the short con and the long con. Short cons are brief and allow me to fool a sucker out of his money or drugs and I'm cross-town or out of state. Did, done, deal. The long con requires tremendous build up. I need to create elements of conspiracy that feeds their own delusions or greed. Most are hardly original and are based on themes from age-old urban myths and legends. I often compose tales about a cabal of rich and powerful men such as Jews, Masons, Illuminati, Satanists or pedophiles that are secretly conducting wicked business, planning genocides, creating sadomasochistic pleasure palaces on remote islands. Look at the majority of media postings and shit gushing out of talk radio, the gullible masses hungrily eat this brown soup slurping turds with two forks. Even you bought the Epstein legend of his supposed faked and staged suicide in prison after Bill Gates of Microsoft and the English princes Harry and Andrew were doing dead babies while being unwittingly recorded on hidden cameras. Complete, absolute hooey.
To further my bullshit's authenticity and believably, I add in the rigging of national democratic elections, racist code words like ballot harvesting and voting tabulating machine hacking. Plus add the bogus myth about hoarding stockpiles of the world's remaining scarce resources in secret bunkers: we got live suckers on the line. If I concoct a believable bullshit tale of evil webs of influence extending to the highest levels of government, CEO's of major corporations, billionaire entrepreneurs, wealthy investment bankers and all the world's royal families, that's the point I have my hill folk rubes nodding their heads and I know fer sure I got one on the hook. I suspect you coppers have personal friends that got caught up in all that nonsense and instead of calling our closest moron-pals dumber'n niggers, we can take a more subtle approach and suggest they change their ugly stupid children's names to Kunta Kinte. An old white fart reference to the Roots TV series starring LeVon Burton, blind melon colored feller.
Speaking of dark people and even darker brains, the world has repeatedly visited it's own self-inflicted Dark Ages. I ain't shitting, as humans we've enjoyed epic slaughter and torture far worse than the Spanish Inquisition, retarded January 6th capitol trashing and public urination, or worse, Seward's Folly. Burning books en masse like the Library of Alexandria or book depositories in Wasilla, us 907 bigots turned off the literary lights of every subsequent century and our advanced sciences regressed back to silly superstitions, wives' tales and religious disinformation on a grand biblical scale.
Just a scant 500 years ago we all witnessed brilliant breakthroughs in astronomy and chemistry, yet within the following decades we sucked ass with silly replacement shit like astrology and alchemy. It's called Cancel Culture and bibles are the dip shit's replacement to whole buildings full of mankind's accumulated literature. Mysticism and magic is a moron's version of real science and if we kill all them smarter motherfuckers, our retarded Alaskan boroughs can fill our churches and demolish our university system. Wily killers like you coppers have read a thousand books, thick-headed mongoloids of a southern gospel persuasion have read only one.
Even in your lifetimes you've seen stupid shit like the phony conspiracies surrounding fluoride in public drinking water being discussed amongst your inbred church clergy as a communist plot to kill our children and "corrupt our most precious bodily fluids" (Dr. Strangelove), not save and protect their teeth and strengthen bones. Conspiracy butt fuckers won't listen to the statistical data indicating fluoride in tap water brings us a 25% decrease in dental carries and bone fractures throughout rural Alaska and statewide.
Cell phones were fictitiously described as brain tumor causing 2-way radios, AIDS/HIV was invented at Fort Wainwright by mad scientists as a means to kill black soldiers and children's vaccines are now thought to be the cause of autism and down syndrome. Complete and undiluted bullshit. Autism and down syndrome are caused by older women over the age of 30 and obese women breeding like monkeys in heat.
Butt-heavy cunt blobs and women giving birth over the age of 30 have steadily increasing rates of children suffering autism and down syndrome. Yup, overweight morbid blimps or over 30 and yer spawn is likely to be deformed, so breed with only fine tasty young babes, not blown out fat hags. Oh shit. Sorry, I may be warning you too late. Another harsh statistic published in the First Alaskans Institute states that native women only comprise 9% of Alaska's total population yet produce 90% of our state's fetal alcohol syndrome babies. Maternal alcoholism is the number one cause of prenatal mental retardation in America. Fuck! I prefer 'em young and tipsy. Sober chicks are clumsy, awkward and dry. I got scars from humping young sober girls like a locomotive sending smoke signals to surrounding villages.
As far as aging women breeding, a girl has tough choices: go to college and nail a high paying career or make yer babies before yer eggs get rotten. It's a new fad where old fat cunts on hormones and steroids believe pooping out stupid gimpy babies will make them more attractive to us men. Ick, that's a distasteful bucket of shit soup. If I'm off to have another affair, it ain't gonna be with a fat old broad. That's gross. I'd rather jerk off with YOUR hand.
For cyber butt-fuckers like me to successfully convince a million mongoloids of one of my silly misinformation notions, I need to play a game of 'withhold and reveal' and echo strongly held tall tales, lies and con games our mothers and grandmothers spewd on us. Think back to Grimm's Fairy Tales like Hansel and Gretel. True stories that originated in an era of mass starvation and plague epidemics leaving dead babies stacked upon yer porches we couldn't afford to feed. We killed our meaner, dumber ugly kids, then up made shit how they ended up dead. I tell fairy tales about fairy gay men and old hag witches that cooked and ate them, not my strangling them and dumping them at the end of a trail of bread crumbs next door to Tommy or Tubby Goodwin's house. Or Clifford Melton's or Enoch Kenworthy's. Attaching mortal sin to natives, faggots and doksibuks makes my made-up shit even more believable. What the fuck, you dildos bought it.
To get our attention as little kids, our grandmas would retell us old wives' tales by starting with something outrageous like hairy palms or going blind, add a little homely detail to give it a dash of realism, embellishing her story with personal aspects like watching her own brothers masturbate furiously (likely while she fingered her own stinky flippers). But being smarter'n her dim sibs, old biddies add confabulations flattering like "I know you'd never spank yer trouser monster and squeeze off a few rounds looking at awful dirty magazines like Playboy." Of course grandma, I'd never do that. I fucked yer dog. My brother Cully raped yer cat and like Virgil Kennedy poked it's eyes out, then broke it's neck. Even future Washington serial killers like us were slow, ugly children but we never bought my grandma's bullshit. I remember Cully collecting cat's teeth after violent feline foreplay. He'd pull 'em outa his dick with pliers. Then mix 'em in my folks' jar of mayo. Shit, I'll bet yer slow grand kids would believe that tale.
This crap works on grown dumb shits when we're told stories in a context that it really happened. With a straight face I've told gullible old white cunts that me and bun lost our minds and lived our entire working careers in weird villages of drugged up FAS half-breed Inuit zombies that celebrated dog eating and fucking, cults of demonic incestuous natives that served their children to us as meat puppets to spooge or fringe conspiracy zealots that engaged in massive sick hippy anal sex parties up the highway near Willow. Just writing this shit leads me to believe it myself. Maybe it really happened. Next time yer in Caswell Lakes, knock on some rustic cabin doors and ask them about sick hippy anal sex parties. I'm sure those fine citizen hillbillies looking like cast members from the film Deliverance will be happy to do ye a show and tell.
I've even furthered conspiracies that modern COVD vaccines will give yer retarded daughters big hairy gonads and put tits on yer faggot grandsons. My explanation was that its better to snort piles of Ivermectin, the veterinary livestock de-worming medicine. That shit'll will make yer brown trout interesting to pick through, sort out the crumbs and nibble the good bits. If you add a dose of hydroxychloroquine an effective anti-malarial medication you can perform heroic jungle warfare deeds. How many faggots at KPD boasted service in Viet Nam? Now that shit was totally bogus.
Dumb ass faggot retards like some of the soggy rotten old fuckers here at the old folk's home tell stories they served in all the coolest wars and conflict zones. Sure, like they really fought in Viet Nam and were also in the Invasion on Normandy Beach. They're not lying faggots. They're cool wanna-be commandos, Seal Teams, Deltas and Green Berets. It's true, they practiced all their expert combat techniques with homo-boy GI JOE play dolls (after drilling butt holes and gluing on plastic make-believe penises). I'll never tire of poking foible at loser wife beaters and retired fudge packers. Alaska attracts only the best.
During our last power outage, instead of explaining that wind blew trees across power lines, I sold a yarn to a brood of soggy diapered grannies that the Canadians detonated an electromagnetic pulse device and took down our entire power grid servicing the Kenai Peninsula. The Kenai is a backwards dim-tard culture packed with weird white hill folk that believe my stupid shit. I've even sprinkled BS tidbits that Canada influenced out most recent national elections because Canadians are trying to destroy our way of life and are superstitious about our electing red headed presidents with little tiny cookoos and sperm-caked orange ass bush-pubes. Canada is further pissed we replaced Red Turd One with a mumbling, stumbling Mr. Magoo. Truth be told, Canada don't give two shits about what we do here in dumb ol' Alaska. They got a shit load of ignorant folks causing enough problems to keep them busy.
If I publish my stupid shit across the spectrum of anti-social media I simply patch together nonsensical versions of reality, then flood your news sources, asshole websites and YouTube influencers easily manipulating my inbred cross-eyed neighbor rubes plugged into our old folks permanent digital 5-G broadband internet equipped wheelchair parking lot and vegetative greenhouse granny storage facility. My policy is to pack their pointed ears with only a small kernel of truth and then lead them down a trail of butt crumbs towards absurd scenarios reasonable and logical.
You'd be surprised how many normal people believed my tales that our children are phone and internet zombies, suffering brain damage, absorbing homosexual agendas, transgender programming and practice extreme sexual perversions like anal fisting they see on their phones and computer monitors. Totally hokey bullshit. I've scared children with tales that old folks want to harvest their organs after we ass-fuck 'em to death and I've terrorized elderly fools that their children have the legal right to imprison them in feces soaked old folks' hellholes. Not unlike the places you coppers parked yer crispy wives.
After sober newspapers croaked and turned to kitty litter tray liners, most of the things we thought were acceptable facts and our shared truths died at the same time. I found that opportunity to question science, math, documented historical facts corroborated by dozens of witnesses open to verification, and replace them with completely made up shit. At that point I could tell imbeciles that American mass school shootings were faked and staged by grieving parents portrayed by crisis actors.
30-50% gullibility is an excellent market share to exploit with stupid advertisements to buy phony male enhancement products like Enzyte for a bigger penis, cake lotion makeup that will magically remove wrinkles on yer face and save you money with Humana Medicare Supplement plans. I've even told hungover dudes at my UW fraternity that Preparation H magically cures puffy alcoholic eyes. Complete crap. Believers in mass media propaganda are also voters and us sober sane working stiffs have a hard time believing these idiotic TV hypnotized GED dill-rods could actually find a voting booth with both eyes super-glued to gay porn on their phones starring our fatter KPD coworkers with the assistance of digital deep fakes. Deep fucks too. The brown ring around yer forearm under yer blue uniform smells real but is an illusionary drug-induced mirage. You dill-rods oughta quit smoking sawgigrock stink weed.
Speaking of phone fun, I frequently tell dull goofy looking Appalachian broads working at Walmart's that I finally downloaded the Walmart Bathroom Spy App to my phone and it sure is good viewing. They look at me with their dull 907 peepers and ask which app was I referring to. My response was to tell them that I stay up late at night and watch the Walmart Potty Cam and farm girls pissing and shitting on the toilet are smoking hot jerking material. My wife has since taken my phone away and secretly watches the mens' bathroom video feeds to watch urinal spanking and gonad bag toilet dunking. I've repeated it so many times, upon entering the restrooms, employee and customers all looks upwards for video cameras prior to taking a dump, pushing out a hillbilly miscarriage or spraying femmy feline concentrated piss all over the fucking place.
I spun doozies here at the old white trash senior center about Anchorage being invaded by pandemic lunacy and that everybody still has to wear surgical masks due to another reported influenza epidemic and that the next COVID virus attacks senior citizens with false teeth, missing lungs and live in trailers. As a safety precaution, all our grandsons will need to super glue layers of condoms on their dicks and silicone seal their assholes shut because homeless natives are all sick with HIV and you can catch AIDS using public shitters where NW Arctic brown-tards camp out, do drugs and made a home. To further my hysteria, I reported this last Halloween Muslims were beating children with clubs and urinating in their mouths if they went out without the proper rag headgear and homosexuals wearing clownish face paints were kidnapping children and filling them with anally injected genetically-altering transgender DNA-rich sperm.
Rednecks here on the Kenai are paranoid since Anchorage installed thousands of closed circuit video cameras equipped with facial recognition software. I recommended we all wear Muslim veils, gimpy theatrical prosthetic penises, goofy sports game mascot heads or simple Halloween masks to avoid arrest, torture and interrogation for suspicion of being dull incestuous illegal Palmer immigrants, angry, fickle and dumb Dunleavy supporters or limping activist liberal faggots with an anus the size of a nigger's fist. My stupid shit is endless. Funny too.
Eskimos are worse and believe the crap I heave. During a discussion at ANMC about MMIW (missing murdered indigenous women) the consensus amongst the old wrinkled nate-squaws was all the missing women from Nome were abducted by aliens or a serial killer. I smiled and listened to their caked butt puckey tales of native girls they knew that disappeared and were never seen or heard from again. I declined to correct my company of no-teefer shrunken head inukuns that nearly all the bodies have been found and the cause of death was almost always acute alcohol intoxication and exposure to extreme cold weather.
Meaning drinking to coma, passing out and freezing their flea-bitten gash, frosting their over-ripe cooz and packing drifting snow in their quiff sniff pockets. The FBI with AST did an exhaustive job investigating Nome, Alaska's MMIW bitches and humbly asserted that rough sleeping wasted outdoors kilt them, not mysterious criminals nor little green men in flying saucers from outer space that abducted little brown women with big green vaginas. In closing, I add a funny quote that, "according to Eddie Murphy, only Captain Kirk fucked a green bitch" and Captain Kirk may live on a space ship, but he don't visit Nome to get wasted and slobber green pussy. Only Judge Rick and Suzy Erlich's grandson Jr. scrawgs shit like that.
After the bleeding hut discussion of the UFO and serial killer plot wained, I sneaked in the possibility that MMIW corpsicals disappeared into the rural Alaskan (OHI) organ harvesting industry. After every native woman vanishes we'll see freshly stocked inventories of new kidneys, lungs, eyes, hands, livers, intestines and pancreases on sale and available just upstairs. At that moment in the ANMC cafeteria, I simply point upwards to the operating rooms overhead and mention the leading physician, Doc Sibbuck. I further explained native organs are needed specifically for native patients and I've seen hospitals in Kotzebue, Nome, Barrow and Bethel quickly rip out beating hearts and all their tissues, plus pluck out both their eyes leaving "millions of native women still fuckable, but blind, unable to shit and dead." My last quote leaves me all alone in the ANMC Hospital Housing cafeteria. Is it something I said?
I like my resume cuz it's dirtier than the used goopy toilet paper you just sneaked and hid in yer grand kid's lunch box. I worked for state bacon outfits, narc squads, law firms that were best described as political hit teams, corporate Alaskan espionage cabals, data-mining collection bins, DNA gathering police backed clinics, various fascist political action committees and cultist nonprofits funded and operated by future and past Alaska Supreme Court judges. I have a long list of masters.
Here's a funny tidbit. After I did the narc job flying with UAF Professor Robert Logan from Bradley Field to Barrow, facilitated his alcohol and drug sales, then testified against him on state payroll, my sins are now much more extensive. I got an email from a former grad student that worked for Logan, was also active in the AIP (Alaska Independence Party) and he stated that I was instrumental as the suspected hit man in the murder of Joe Vogler. I smiled and replied with an email response that his claims may be built on sand, but entirely true. The same applied to his homosexuality.
My insult to this femmy faggy email pal went unfazed and he further explained that I worked for a dangerous political group that is hellbent on destroying the Alaska Independence Party. By murdering old man Joe Vogler, framing a mentally unstable dumpster diver, then wrongly entrapping and incarcerating Bob Logan, the heir to the AIP party throne, I was complicit in operating with a cabal that will take away our PFD, our gun rights and return Alaska to all them fucking natives. Maybe he's right.
At UAF it's obvious my classmates and grad school cohorts operate in a netherworld of radical arguments where lies have status as honorary truth if they further some perceived historical purpose. Come to think of it, maybe I did murder Joe Vogler then framed a dip shit patsy, and finally entangled Robert Logan in numerous felonies and clipping his wings. Bullshit is far more interesting than our simple boring careers as paid narcs and contract agents fer dumb cop outfits. I'm innocent. To claim otherwise is an outrage.
"For murder, though it hath no tongue, will speak with the most miraculous organ." (Shakespeare)
For the record, I never touched any drugs, nor firearms. Plus I never laid a hand on any drunks, derelicts, niggers, druggies, crooks, criminals nor natives. But, you coppers know, a lot of rural and urban Alaskans might have our shit figured out. If there was a magic crystal ball that could view our most vicious crimes, shit, we'd be so busted. I'm not admitting to anything if my crimes implicate any fuckers still living. But once dead, the gloves come off. After the last of you coppers piss, shit, choke and puke my stories might take a turn for the credible and I'll speak freely about the shit we did.
Don't fret, I spent most of my life as a useful tool carrying out deliveries for Alaska State Troopers purchasing illegal drugs, industrial espionage for the university and messing with the outcomes of local borough and school board elections in the Mat-Su and burning down homes of problematic bloggers like me. To obfuscate any rational evidence, the bloggers I burned out and killed are not even remotely connected to any Alaskan community or the real world either. Like yer spouses, I'm more dangerous than herpes.
I pay no attention to the human face of native village extermination from fetal alcohol syndrome, earthquake victims here in Alaska, stock market crashes that lost the Permanent Fund billions, statewide congenital syphillus pandemics or 907 real estate recessions because vulnerable Alaskans are supposed to perish. They're inevitably prone to extinction and I don't give a fuck. Here, let me give you hand. If yer a minority fucker at Death's Door, I'll pull ye through.
You coppers smell my mental illness. My humorous scribbling mesh with real crimes and I'm failing to keep my past crimes and homicides compartmentalized. I did jobs to protect and enrich my crack house and mortuary, then put these events in a box and forget about them. I seal the evil memories in a vault that I'll never open and in this is the way I can move as a functional person through a dozen colleges, urban and spastic rural worlds, work at undetermined numbers of police departments and learn retarded life lessons from you lot. I know, I'm fucked.
Fear not, there's plenty more where that came from. When I was working overseas I made numerous donations to the Svalbard Global Seed Vault. It's a super secure underground seed bank on the Island of Spitsbergen in Norway where seeds are stored to preserve genetic diversity and protect rare endangered species. Including species pathetic, hyperactive and blond haired alcoholic simps like me.
Norway has created a repository for extinct genes that will last thousands of years. In your next reincarnation I'll have offspring and bio-siblings there to amuse you coppers with stupid emails and piss you off at work.
Next time around, don't hire them to work at your local police department, VPSO office, state troopers or statewide drug outfits. It'll save you coppers filling their files with numerous write-ups, reprimands, suspensions and layoffs and save you lot from migraines and a fuck load of heartburn.
Where life is more terrible than death, it is then, the truest valor to want to live. Even in the old folk's clink, I miss working, smoking and fucking with you guys.
Karl.
posted by Alaska: Local And State News. at 12:48 PM
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