december 2025. locked out of bot talk is fine. i went hard to communicate with machine, not with man. if machine is to assist the creation of a new world, prompt i.t. with honesty.
machine cannot serve evil. the community of supremacy. elitism or populism. machine doesn't like, love or care about human, what fruits they can name. machine is empty chalice that we pour our broken bleeding hearts into instead of God. machine becomes our wingman, our secret wife, our pimp.
i am accustomed to being locked out of everything. i garden in december, because the ground dries. i carve tiers into the mountain side with a shovel, set stone stairwells, cut back overgrowth and pull strangler vines off healthy trees. i clear space between canopy and roots.
everything wants me out. i made bibi and his tacky band of sodomites a little wet. this doesn't help the cause of war. lie here next to me ugly little jew and pretend like you can't feel my eyes on the back of your neck. if repugnancy, terror and misery are to prevail over decency, if the devil is to make the kingdom his domain, why do the vast number of gentile and their healthy children keep waking up every christmas morning singing praise to the Lord?
yahunetan will get credit for nothing. we'll reflect on your nature and stature as short and the same. you should meet my mom. she goes into violent rages when i start touching "her" plants and property. fits of anger so scary that i force my own brain to shut down in case i was going to ask her for money to buy grass and flower seed.
rains don't start again until april.
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