Ladies and gentlemen, given the clamorous success of our BLOGOVELLA, a brand new genre, like soap opera but in blog format, think of it as candy-floss with all the E numbers for your mind and an acid bath for your souls, we bring you the FIFTH episode, of our never-ending drama-trauma of non-incel-incel, he of the quick and steely, not to mention Shadowy, Hand!
Behold his gloriousness, radiating gamma rays so powerful even Hulk would have been shrivelled up.
Well! Consider me schooled and beaten, ladies and gentlemen! He’s not the gamma, *I’m* the gamma!
Secondly, it’s by CHOICE you see, that he has never had sex and it will also be by choice that he will never, have sex. Ever. Because… ummm… NO WOMAN IS GOOD ENOUGH! Of course! Only his shadohand can comfort him. Forever!
Thirdly, uh…. thirdly he may also have dementia, but fourthly, well, fourthly takes the cake.
He’s got a handheld scalar weapon in the making people! But luckily he didn’t threaten anyone with it, specifically, so we’re all safe. Not because he’s obviously suffering from delusions of grandeur so massive that he should probably be in an old style mental asylum, no, no, no, don’t you DARE suggest that because he narrowly avoided being homeless thanks to the kindness of strangers he is not a genius’ genius with solar weapon technology in the palm of his hand! THAT would be the insane part, am I right people?
But rest assured, we have no doubt whatsoever, that as soon as he stops hallucinating inanimate objects talking to him, he will write again.
And again.
And again.
Because the Secret King never loses and he will write again.
I know, I know, some of you are like “Dude… you’re probably making fun of a severely mentally ill person.”
To which I say: I’m doing my part to ensure the freaks get put back in the special places of care they need to be in by exposing them.
Look, it’s either that or this guy can run for office (see previous post. Except….don’t really go look at it all, just read the text, trust me. And if you do look at it all, have an empty stomach before you do.)
There’s a reason they nicknamed me the Kurgan… and it’s not exactly because I take pity on retards, French ones or otherwise, who take it upon themselves to attract my gaze on their insectoid existence.
But don’t feel sad for him, remember, if I suddenly teleport to another dimension, it’s probably him with his scalar zap gun!
