How many times? I don't know, but I am really holding out hope for Just the Once. NOT rebirth. Not an afterlife. It's all a reference to sleeping at night. You sort of die at night and wake up again in the morning. In spite of all the Black Magic, I figure I have the world's easiest cop out. I am going to die someday. I am going to be a very destroyed personal consciousness. The weird little pea thing in my brain, which helps me go to sleep and come back, will be gone. Whatever Black Magic really is, it will NOT have me to, as President Nixon once put it, "kick around anymore." What he meant by that is the Vikings had a bad reputation for using people's heads (so did the Poles and the Nazis etc.) as soccer balls. Hoping a woman or a man's head is still around? Nah, they probably figured it out and were just using them as soccer balls, but it does beg the question: did they really think that?
Did they really think for a moment that whatever it was, it was still alive and feeling? Well, it takes Black Magic to think that sort of thing, so it implies they sure were experiencing something like it...
Black in charge of Eternal Hell? Maybe, Blacks in charge of non-eternal drugs. I keep having a deep and abiding suspicion that DRUG USAGE had an awful lot to do with such malarkey as Blacks being demons or in charge of eternal Hell. Drugs, DDT, Agent Orange, well, pollution. Do you s'pose? I am so full of drugs that now my reality is just one long hallucination. At least I'm not in agony yet. I'm sure I will be again someday, and maybe it will be the preliminary battle with Death. The D-word, the one hidden behind all the complex furniture of fake Hell references, Predestination, actual motherhood (I'm sorry, all the Black Magic in the world couldn't overcome the Real McCoy, no matter what ever happened. I wish it could have...then Angela would have held out for a realer dude than Nate...but you know, WHAT realer dude than Nate?)
"They" them. Boys with their toys. Well, shrug. I never do anything about it. Do I? Maybe I did in 1986. The one in 1980 was against the other animals, not boys and men, sorry.
Maybe it would be, umm, white marble. So it could go all dirty...no, not a good idea, the statue, so it could do the very thing that is making Coretta Scott into a demon from Hell at me. I have no proof, no evidence of something. Which is making Coretta Scott into a rapist at me. Somewhat at that, a kind of Gang Rapist in twosomes. I'm not racially pure, so every statue on the planet ends up being one of me, over and over and over again. So the Statue of Dr. King is also one of Karen Cole. Perhaps that explains Coretta? I say something like that, and it is time for something stupid some more is it not? Karen Cole is dirty white, so I guess that is all. Perhaps it is, perhaps it isn't. I'm rather alone in that, for some odd reason, for no reason really. Underneath the original Elizabeth Taylor, underneath the real Joan...something, a Jewess I guess. A comedian. Underneath the real Gertrude Schwarz, lurks Stan Lee, Sherwood Schwarz, Edward Teller. The latter? A stranger clown than "we," one who said once that as of the very first atomic bomb explosion, the planet is destroyed. I am really not a feminist, but I am not banking on imaginary Jesus to save us from it. Or much of anything else. In fact, I have no "us." Except for a family and coworkers.
I barely have any such family left, and a lot of coworkers. I wonder about that 100+ coworker crew of mine. It is really something like several thousand strong, my colleagues of the Internet. and I can find you someone or several such someones. It's not a romantic kind of thing, it's a work relationship. If you can't understand that, or need to push your Mommy or a proxy Mommy around for bringing you into this world, in the hopes that your Daddy or proxy Daddy will, uhhh, take you out of it...you're a bit too used to child abuse. Don't come to us with it, go to a psychologist and not a psychiatrist. Unless you want to "take the easy way out," in which case you might as well join The Cannibalism Network and uh, try cannibalism and see how you feel when someone cuts a small portion out of your left leg while you are bound and gagged, and unable to say anything to stop them from continuing to do so. That sort of thing. The Cannibalism Network is on Google, and it may be incredibly easy to find. Just go there. If you want to take advantage of us instead of using our services to get ahead yourself, though some work and effort on your part, and hiring us to help you. If that's what you really want, the other thing. Go there. You will find love and comfort from your enemy the Cannibal, if you can get her or him to eat you faster. You probably won't, so I suggest you think about what I just said. They tend to take their sweet little time about things...
So what...that's my husband's general response to all of that crap. Other than that, of course, due to Black Magic and maybe a dose of the old dyslexia, he takes it out on me if I bring something up or, well, something. Seems Hitler called him an asshole through me, if I was supposed to be their maid instead of their mother-in-law or stepmother or something. Something about me being some kind of eternal maid for them, but gee, then they would have to be from the Third World or something, instead of being Real Americans. If I had to be their maid, that one time once rather explains everything. I don't think being their maid was ever, forever, a good idea. Neither is this. I'm not making any money off of this anymore, so eventually it will have to be gone. There is no encouragement in the fact this computer jumps around and jumps around and jumps around like a leaping lesbian, to remind me that my daughter is now a leaping simalucron of a lesbian, a young lady who is now a psychiatric patient instead of anyone with a real life.
So, I go something left wing. Maybe there is no such thing as a real life. Well, I go, maybe there is a giant International Freeway system, named somewhat (not completely yet) after Adolf Hitler and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. So all those who "have a life" can contemplate doing something about the problem. Something to do with delegating the work to those who make electric cars possible, or in other words those who pollute the environment with the gathering and the maintenance of the resources necessary to produce one simple electric vehicle. One which could save the human race, while we go out into space and perpetually look for a Mr. Spock who isn't there, probably, except for being on a humble planet so many light years away that we will possibly never reach it in time to tal to or in other words negotiate something with said "Mr. Spock," in other words Mr. Negro. Yes, I guess that's it, if you really think about it, isn't it? Its the way the story goes. Like in your eyes a certain sorrow shows, yes, it shows.
Bye, Angela, you figured it out. You were too smart, and you figured it out. Bye.
Maybe in real life it's Black Magic that any such nonsense that modern medical care saves human lives. Maybe it only destroys them, on a very regular basis. I don't know. In spite of all the lovely Black Magic, I remain too real, human or otherwise to figure it all out. So in the end, it makes it look like half the people go into the hospital or wherever, and only half of them ever do come out again. The second half is killed, period, by "medical care." It's been that way ALL ALONG, from well before Obamacare ever existed...the rest? Like in Victorian times, when they invented the coal tar derivatives that psych meds are, even the German Nazi versions that came along later, and "God" knows what else...what else? Well, hopefully I will be safely dead someday, before this perfect Black Magic Inquisition comes for me further. I do see some signs of progress when it comes to my Final Solution salvation, the one where I finally "get away" and am headless and there is no more to kick around. It is indeed sheer raw evil for me, which is what Evil Magic is all about. Gee, do you think that term maybe implies there is such a thing as Good Magic? I wondered about that, and it is solely for sales. You are supposed to buy something, and cast female-dominated Magic Spells, and accomplish absolutely Nothing. I got a Black Candle to outdo a White Candle once, that's about it. So if you want to Rat Race candles, have a go at it. More Black Magic; I'm being haunted by one Ralph Ellison. He has to lord it over me for unknown reasons, like every other Black or possibly Black Man or possibly Black People or who is it, this thing that is haunting me? Who is it, exactly? I did just want my million copy best seller. Gee, you'd think that would be normal, but apparently, not for "the likes of me." I don't have any, that's my problem. I don't have ANY the "likes of me." Hmm, makes me want to go I'm "not a crook," well, I'm not one. Funny, thought, the crooks all think I am one. I'm a book ghost writer, actually. I'm afraid it's not a crook, even when I'm only one such ghost writer. I helped you with that, but the Black Magic is starting to get to me, you see.
I'm not sure what it is. Sometimes it says it is my genius, sometimes it says it is simply sibling rivalry with my sister Connie. Since she is kind of Black back there somewhere, that could make for something with me against Black People. Still, I keep thinking there is something in them against me. They're being varied individual persons and not Demons fro Hell is in fact my only hope sometimes. Because we are all probably from Africa, originally anyway, but of course nobody really knows about such things...keeping mushroom cloud me in the dark perpetually and feeding me shit. Bull shit, cow manure, whatever. Coffee, Coca Cola, other such stuff. Beer, wine, hard drugs, psych meds. And the food and water is full of them too. What can one do? Am I a mushroom, white with dots all over it, or shit smeared by Blacks and Browns, or am I a woman, middle aged, who thinks something happened back there, more or less something like an Animal Trail I followed...more or less...something like what something called The Indians (and that's not their real name, which makes it a name of an unknown Deity of some kind)...a mushroom cloud. I remember, a girl back there in a commercial. She was white with, not exactly freckles. And it seemed to me like she had to take the blame for such things as mushroom clouds. A witch? That is the best whatever it is can do, accuse people of witchcraft. Things that are not really possible, such as flying through the air when it really means hanging by the neck until dead. That sort of thing, those abominations....seeing Ralph Ellison in traffic is a Real abomination, though, and I have to wonder if a Real mushroom "cloud" is what is responsible for this. Yet is it drugs, such as LSD? I ended up taking two small amounts of it, experimentally, back when I was only living to kill time. Mushroom cloud syndrome. Of sorts. In a Black magic world where I was the only, repeat the ONLY, non-white person in the world. My Mom somehow didn't count. She was too busy being, oh, some other odd person. Namely, Satan. I couldn't figure that out, but eventually they said that was "normal." My Mom being Satan. There is always someone else, who had a worse Mom than mine at being Satan.
You know, I'll buy that. Mystery to me. Maybe I'm getting rather retarded from being told that everyone else on the face of the planet is both better off and worse off than I am. I am facing down a Super-being called Everyone Else, and it's getting a lot like I'm Superman constantly facing down a very judgmental Lex Luthor. You say you are worse off than me and that you have a similar problem to me. Then you say you are better off than I am. You have left me alone, heartbroken, without my daughter and my family. Yet you say you are one gigantic united toadie against me. Yes, that is what you have been saying all of my life. But what about my colleagues? The ones you are trying to devour, for some odd reason? The ones who are an odd third party to this? Well, they can be you sometimes, too judgmental indeed, and rather out to get me. You are quite correct, they are y'all too. So I guess I am an animal with a brain, contesting with all other animals on the face of the planet. Gee, that sounds like how it should be. Trouble is, I'm totally alone at all times, like you want me, but then again I have a group with me at all times, like you want me. Still, you keep saying I am forced to choose between one and the other.
Your thing that you have in mind? That I'm a weird freako white woman. It didn't take long to make this non-startling deduction. Your choice thing? The abortion bandwagon again, or the argument that the wallflower gets pregnant all by herself. Through masturbation? Is that what you think you have caught me at? The other choice thing? Why, it is the career or the housewife thing again. The idea called either a career or a baby machine. Unfortunately, in my case the long prolonged episode called Baby Machine got cancelled, due to Black Magic circumstances again, and people crawling out from under rocks instead of being born, once again, all over again. I guess due to uh, Black Magic, I'm somehow "not female" or something really absurdist. It sounds like the wacked out sexual fantasies of someone else. I'm a rape victim, really, of multiple rapes, in both real life and in Black Magic life, while something weird keeps judging that the rape victim was raped and since the rapist or rapists "got away," they somehow were the Clear Winners. So now everyone who is on their side is a Clear Winner in the special Adolf Hitler sweepstakes! I guess.
The one where the Nazis keep getting brung up is maybe finally over with. I am part German American and wasn't raised Jewish, Indian or any of those wonderful things. I also was NOT raised German American. I was raised as the fall "guy" of my family, Jughead Jones, the idea being to make me into the family lesbian. I hate to tell you this, but that idea does indeed work sometimes. But it's a lot like your very small family cut something off when you come from a THREE PERSON family and that's when. Well, my Mom and Dad smoked like chimneys, so all I can figure is all I can figure.
Yes, it was the cigarettes. Or, Ralph Ellison went by in a car. He's dead, though. Well, that's not a good thing to do, getting that greedy, Mr. Ellison. No, it's not a good thing to do. I'm not greedy, you are, or whoever it is. Someday might bloody be someday. But you keep saying that someday is coming, and I deeply suspect that it is when I cop out on Hell here and leave for another place, one that does not exist, and is NOT somewhere "over the rainbow" or any such thing. Then all you Demons from Hell can win. Over just me. In the entire world, for no apparent reason except your need to win over that one and only person. That one and only person is actually a woman, so I guess it might as well be me, anyway. He is supposed to do that, you know, hover over me like a kind of straight thinking angel, putting in something unfathomable that I don't really think science can reproduce all that well. Something called semen, not a weird protein that I am supposed to eat instead of real food. But real food can be somewhat out of reach when one is supposed to be stuffed with thorazine. Thor? I guess it does have something to do with Ron's favorite God, Thor from Marvel Comics. Come to think, isn't Marvel Comics strictly a Stan Lee Jewish enterprise? Yes, I guess so. Every ethnic group a member. Oh dear, and I'm not allowed to be me. It must be me, then, the thing must be me. I guess I have to leave this rather Ellison worshiping place, that has almost hardly ever heard of any such Ellison.
It laughs at me, judges me, claims I'm something special. Something like a special sex slave. It keeps going on how I'm a weird freak, or a lesbian, or a something abnormal. Hey, maybe I'm a cripple! The jokes about female cripples, ever abounding. On the other side, the joke was on Ron. He was left in a bed as David, as someone else's sex toy, for all eternity. I don't know about being left handing from a trapeze on a playground for all eternity. I sounds like an eternal episode of Playboy, from Jack the Ripper. An eternal episode of the Industrial Age, with chlorofluorocarbons, pushed by Jews who need to sell us all extreme sexual deviance, in the name of an absurd variety.
You see, if I mention them...oh dear, I'm some kind of Nazi or something. Okay, Teller, Einstein and who else now, Marie Curie the French, gee, the Nazis too...destroyed the entire planet and it's taking a while. Maybe, far too long? Let's reinvent the A-bomb? The H-bomb turned out to be too large to bother with, technically. And the realm beyond Boerian Physics is now supposed to be all a hallucination. Maybe it's to encourage extreme usage of daily medication, in order to sell all that phony medical care to people like my husband, who seems to have wanted to believe in some nice, natural herbal remedies. Same with my step daughter, but unfortunately she decided to believe in marijuana. While knowing better. So I guess I destroyed Angela accidentally with acid, and my step daughter, umm, may have destroyed her kids a bit more on purpose with pot. Well, the first girl came out white looking anyway, but I think slowly over time there may be a major change there. So I am glad I'm not witnessing what I'm not witnessing at that.
I'm afraid now to expose Sofia to my Trichinosis. And also, the other two. Well, they gave it to me on the mental ward, through Mystery Meat, and I am beginning to believe it was done on purpose, perhaps to get at Black Demons from Hell. Well, they should have been ordinary ol' Black People, but I guess there are no such things, just demons from Hell. Who all "know" they are Satan, each one a Satan of himself or herself. So it goes...I was given that same exact message from the Bible too. Must be because I'm not blonde, I'm red haired or something, I thought...years later, I met a blonde woman who had gotten the same exact message. I think she found it extremely confusing, especially at first. She seemed to have had a harder life than mind. In the end, I can only hope that is actually the case. I don't want to be the planet's only Satan from Hell, or any other such nonsense whatsoever.