Entry #562

Gold In The Coal Mine

2017-11-23 14:03:55 by nietzlawe

GOLD IN THE COAL MINE

I'm back, unlike high sugar Luco, now how do I cure these hypo attacks? I suppose I could always die, or undergo hip nosis to brainwash me into thinking my hips are stable and not subject to osteoporosis... 'The Hips Don't Lie,' said Shakira, not even under oath. But what if those hips are being pressed underneath an oaf that's obese, and he's fast asleep, snoring, ignoring her pleas for him to move, and she can't even reach the phone to call the police to teach this dude a lesson. He's like one of those big flabby bare-bellied Aladdin dudes. The type of guy who uses his gut as a tom-tom drum. Always drunk off his arse. So bladdered that even his pet adder has had enough... adderall. When you add it all up, that snake is addicted to dem damn drugs, and keeps hissing on the Persian rug, which has lost its colour coz it's now covered in missing person's blood. That snake was framed man, blamed for a highly sophisticated human trafficking operation. After all, how else could that snake acquire adderall? On the Black Market? The White Market? You can only obtain that crap on the Shite Market. Or just buy it from Lindsay Lohan. Lohan SLAMMED!! ... Brakes on car in time. Damn, slammed x 2. This is some real Jean Claude Van Slamme type shit! Especially if Jean was slammed into Claude's van. What is this?! Some kind of Po-Leece Brutalitité? Brut aftershave police force. End up with cuts and bruises, but at least you smell good... "Yeah, in the fuckin' 70s you Kuntophile!" The only thing Hai Karate is good for is pepper spray. Who needs to go Kung-Fu Fighting when I can cum in your mung bean stew? I don't mean to be mean to you, but making you eat through this semen soup seemed funny at the time. When I was on a wild high, floating on subliminal canna pie... Now that my shoulder has healed and moulded, without the need for Voltarol, or a Fitbit Alta bolted to my wrist. lolz. Now I can run back to the lab to drop these slabs of rock from great heights on Harvey Weinstein's cock. Weinstein SLAMMED!! Fuck it, why shy away from drama. Nietzlawe is here to address the issues of the day, even if those issues risk suits of law. We're here to fear nothing but fear hitting on itself. Which seems weird, but we don't care, or buy in to those scare tactics. Skirts and prophylactics. Nothing here but the madness of the world's stories summarised, some of which write themselves. The daily chaos which I play off and feed on, there's probably lots that we agree on, which tends to happen when we be honest. Some of it is in the name of Commie D. I just want a fair deal, and I'm just like.. well where's Neil?! He's the fuckin' negotiator around here! The goto man, whenever you need a yoyo, or a Gogo Yubari mason chain to slay a chain of masons, before puncturing their souped up Subaru tyres so that they crash on the junctions. I then get sued for libel and all the proceeds go to Sue Ryder. I rue the day my mouth is clasped and closed, or I get glassed at a pub in Glasgow for spouting a non-disclosure agreement. Its not my fault!! It seems all the breaking news these days turns out to be history in the making. But the main thing is to maintain spirit, to train ourselves never to be timid, reaching for the whitewash and tippex. Stop tripping and start whipping ass with a vengeance. This is sublimated catharsis... half artist, half arsehole, which I'm about to show y'all...

Brethrens and Sistrens, cathartic season is in... sex, violence and mental health... um, what else? Whatever sells to the masses, whatever spells out health hazard. Who cares if you're haggard, or mentally and physically shattered? At least your brain matter is not splattered all over the road yet, fat boy! Stop complaining, playing and feigning, and start saying the things that had you reigning supreme. Rage is emotionally and physically draining you see. I am what you seek, if what you seek is, "eek! run for the hills, creep alert!!" You've been sleeping too long, kidda, but you didn't think I would bid adieu did you? Now watch as once again I stink out the place, "yo, douche! What do you mouthwash with? Sushi?" I said place, not plaice, so hush little puppy before I shut you down... like a grubby cubby hole, that's so small it wouldn't fit your tubby motherfuckin' ass in at all. Never mind that, let's have a look at my NG earnings breakdown for November 2017. Yeah... I'll have a breakdown when I see that I haven't made any earnings for November 2017! Give me my Drachma's you Kuntophiliacs! This is the storm before the dead calm. The New Norm, an Bates. That's the palm before the porn you're talking about! Ahh, the joys of senility and senescence. In essence this essence burns and gives me contact dermatitis. But its time to take a turn and make an effort again by working magic with a mere 26 letters. Sweating, reigning champ straining ligments, but maintaining vigilance, incase some irritating sycophantic pricks show their ignorance.. at my ignorance. A comical genius should never be admonished for writing something astonishing. Frankly, this is just the ideal tonic, to sum up this toxic demonic world. This is like boxing, sparring in the gym, sharing my scars with a grin. Real bizarre things in the repertoire, a reservoir of mud-slinging. Which by reading you are sinking in my sludge, my smudges of ink. So drink it in, like giving oral to a Duchess. Or a Dutch whore, that's butch and doesn't really like men, so it means so much more to her to put you in your place.. fish. Her plaice fish, a face dish you now taste on a 24-7 basis. That's your fate... bitch. I'd rather suffocate under Duchess Kate, and end up a prisoner in the Royal Family's clutches, with Queen Elizabeth beating me in the crotch with crutches, before topping it off with punches, rather than chocolate Crunchie pieces. Jesus Christ, its time for peace talks, not being choked out by the Palace police security, then subjected to deep-throating, no wonder he's croaking! C'mon, man! You can see that I'm only joking, as when my mouth is open its only to talk, or provoke you through evocative mauling. Personally I find the whole experience a positive one. Like therapy when the pains of the day are weighing heavily on your shoulders. Medically, this serving is the equivalent of meditation, and the medication is ideal for every patient that steps in my coal mine, looking for gold, like "fuck it, I'm sold!" Right? Just play some music, read, everything is gonna be all right. For I am the Almighty Nietzlawe, deflating these flighty egos, like some unlikely hero.


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