Fear and Loathing from the Heartland

 You see what a mess California is, and if you think the socialist government out there didn't have a notion of my online presence, think again.  I actually like Gavin Newsom as a person, but Jerry Brown he ain't, fuck me.  He's a monster, and I pray to the dear Lord he's never elected to national office. I think hes micro dosing LSD.  Shrooms or something, he needs to give himself a break and check out a meeting.   

When Governor Brown looks like Barry Goldwater compared to you, that's too far, man.  Then you add in the CCP subversives, the Middle Eastern terror cells, the cartels, the Cubans, the Russians, it's too much, brother.  That place is out of fucking control, and all I had to do was cross a few of the wrong folks to get a glimpse of it up close and personal, and I did it with GLEE.    

Ever since then, I've been on guard and vigilant.  I know who my friends are and they ain't it.  The place is as corrupt as the day is long, and it doesn't matter who controls the freakshow; one set of freaks is as ate up as the other.     

I literally packed my shit and cleared out of there post haste.  You can put all the black marks next to my name you like, but the paperwork tells a far different story, implicating some foreign nationals in a crime.  If it were all an innocent misunderstanding, then why am I still living with it?   I'm supposed to be held hostage by some pervert fucking doctor from Afghanistan?  Not a chance.  I'd like to see his medical license revoked and his entire livelihood taken away from him.  It was pretty obvious he hated Americans like me. You give one of these douchebags any authority, and they always take it too far.  I assume that's why they denied me a bible and called it a little book of hate speech.  But who really knows?  

Only the lying sacks of shit who engineered that nightmare.  Which so happened to coincide with the one-year anniversary of our disgraceful withdrawal from Afghanistan.   Whatta coincidence!  There is a trail of evidence.  I never said a word.  A sweet little black lady who worked there knew they were doing me dirty, and she told me to keep my mouth shut and go along with the program, or I'd never get out.   She was right, because they continued to pursue me ad nauseam from that day forward, looking for an excuse to either hook me up or kill me.  People had money to be made with me out of the way.  That's my story, and I'm sticking to it until the day I die. 

They violate People's civil rights like it's entertainment.  I'm like a preserved moose on display in a museum.  My life is an open book thanks to these scoundrels, so why not put it in writing?  Nobody believes me anyway.  Only they know who they are, and they are not gonna be happy.    

It's all a work of fiction; there I fixed it.   Nobody looks bad, except me.   It's not you, it's me.  Put on your purple beret, kick your jackboots up on the desk, and give it rest.  It doesn't get any better than this.