Another Tweet

 I Beat The Simulation

I Wonder If I'm Even Here

There's a song by this band called Mighty Six Ninety, a reference to a radio station, where the lead singer sings "I wonder if I'm even here..."

I know I'm where I am, but I'm still not sure where "where I am" is. I heard of this haunted house once; Supposedly, this haunted house had so many levels that you had to sign a waiver to enter. I'd heard that, if you make it out of that haunted house, they pay you for how many levels you got through. WHERE'S MY PAYMENT?! I believe I've been in some version of that haunted house, without my knowledge or permission, and I'm ready to be paid.

Remember that podcast episode I released called "Shut Up And Pay Me"? REMEMBER?!?! I had this dream last night, which was definitely "implanted" somehow (probably via the dream-linking machine I told listeners to "Please don't make"), and I'm still here. I'm living in a homeless shelter; I'm grateful that this homeless shelter has privacy and I have my own private bathroom and internet access. I'm sitting here, alone, in a bedroom, in what seems like a shipping container stacked on two other shipping containers, and I got a vaccination earlier. I was paid in the form of a $20 gift card. IF YOU THINK THAT COUNTS AS PAYMENT FOR HOW MUCH I'VE BEEN THROUGH...YOU ARE GOING TO DIE. YOU ARE GOING TO BE MURDERED (probably by lethal injection or firing squad) AND I'M GOING TO HAVE THE PRIVILEGE OF WATCHING IT ALL AND LAUGHING.

Kill yourselves, after reading this.

I Was Once On A Dating Show Called "Bagged"

 This dating show presented three contestants with a potential date with a girl I wasn't really attracted to; One of the segments of this show had us individually tell this girl what we would do sexually with her. I was vague. I wasn't looking forward to winning this show. Good thing I lost! It was on a website called "Myx.tv".

At one of the previous homeless shelters I stayed at I met a dude who called himself "Money". DUMB NICKNAME! One time he told me that he was gonna start dating girls he's not attracted to. WHAT A FUCKING IDIOT!!! WHY WOULD ANYONE DO THAT?! I've done that more than a few times, but those were "Beetlejuice" scenarios. Whoever has been monitoring me is VERY AWARE that I'm talking about this.

I went to a bowling alley, earlier today, to let their hiring manager know that I submitted 4 applications to work there. I also went there to bowl a game. I thought I had more money in my account, but I've spent a little more than I anticipated this month. I didn't even have enough to bowl 1 game. I haven't bowled in 4 or 5 months. I miss it. For some reason, the bowling alley I applied to charges $12/hour to play pool. WHAT?!? I've seen games of pool cost as little as $1. HOW IS CHARGING $12/hour for playing pool LEGAL?!

I've been playing some solitaire; It's fine, but it's lacking.

There's a girl here at this homeless shelter who's exchanged shy and interested glances and greetings with me. I'm gonna ask her out next time I see her.

Something tells me that, wherever I've been moved to (a place that doesn't feel like Los Angeles) doesn't want me to date. I don't know why, and I don't know how...something else tells me that it has something to do with the 40-YEAR LONG JOKE someone has been playing on me.

To those of you who've been FUCKING WITH ME aka MESSING WITH ME aka JOKING AT MY EXPENSE: KILL YOURSELVES.

I Had Some Disturbing Dreams Last Night

 I had some disturbing dreams last night; One of them was not disturbing, but funny. There's a show called Detroiters, a pre-cursor to a show called I Think You Should Leave With Tim Robinson. The two main cast members from both of those shows were in that funny dream. They presented a joke that made me laugh, and I presented a joke to both of them that made the three of us laugh. I won't go into specifics, as I'm almost certain that my dreams have been being documented somewhere.

I once wrote a song called "Sleep Well". In that song, I instructed any, and all, listeners "Please don't make that dream machine". The song talked about a machine that involved the creation of a "dream-linking machine". In another part of the song, I wrote "I guess that you could call it a song"; That "song" to which I was referring was the song itself...a warning to all those who were thinking of ACTUALLY making a "dream-linking machine", a horror in and of itself.

I thought I was being as specific as I possibly could. If any observers of this blog post are watching/listening/reading, have been involved in the making of an ACTUAL "dream-linking machine", I ask now that you sever that connection and destroy that "dream-linking machine". I've been having dreams that seem like they've been implanted into my subconscious; This is invasive, intrusive, and unwelcome...to some.

There are other dreams I've had that have been VERY welcome...and those dreams seem to have been cut short. I don't understand all that has happened to me in the past 40+ years, but I'm certain I've been "being fucked with", and I'd like to be let in on the joke so that I can be laughed WITH instead of laughed AT.

I'm funny. I know that for a fact. I understand, and appreciate, the humors I've been presented with even though some (or all) of them have been made at my expense.

There's a book called "Ready Player One". Something tells me that these jokes that were made at my expense were a part of a bigger story. I just cleared my throat, something that was undoubtedly recorded by those observers who've been watching me like a bunch of chicken-hawks; To those of you observing me writing this blog post, I demand to know how you have been observing me when I'm sitting in a private bedroom in a homeless shelter I've been staying at while I'm trying to proverbially get my feet back on the ground.

My cell phone service was recently halted from the generous, or joking, hands of a company called Cricket Wireless. I'd like my cell phone service restored, and I'd like my old phone number back. There are some phone apps I've been using, some of which ask for my phone number. The phone number I used from 2005 - 2021 or 2022 is the phone number I wish to continue using. It's a phone number that was activated in Northern Kentucky. I'm currently living in Los Angeles, or so I am told, and something tells me that there are those using a Tesla-inspired creation of "wireless electricity" which is both harmful and invasive. If I am, indeed, living in Los Angeles, "the electricians" who've been messing with me to an anguishing degree have been having fun at my expense and I'm ready to see through "the veil" of the joke.

You're going to have to let me leave, with all of my belongings and duffel bags full of cash. I need better joke-writers. I need to get paid more, and I want to work. If these blog posts inspire "the entertainment industry" to make more entertainment for me, you've done that before. I've written pilot scripts, I've written spec episodes of existing shows, I've written music, I've created a font of all capital letters, and I've been hearing dissent from those who want to keep me under them; I want "them" to drop dead. Use whatever means necessary to do that, but do it soon. Sometime within the next 48 hours would be great; I'd also like proof that you've dropped dead, along with an apology letter, sent to the address I've provided in my previous blog post.

Good day to you all.

Is This A Post From The Past Or From The Future?

 Listen...read...whatever makes sense to your eyes and ears...I've had a couple drinks, and I've recorded 445 episodes of my first podcast called: You And Me And Thoughts And Talk with Doug Culp.

If you listen already...great. If you don't...give it a listen or two or three or 400 or more.

I've interviewed hundreds of funny people, some not as funny, and some simply entertaining. I've had some great solo episodes where I had fun with sounds, did a KILLER Malcolm MacDowell impression, and some episodes are so short you won't be sure if that was a full episode or if I stopped recording a little too soon.

You can listen to it here:

You And Me And Thoughts And Talk with Doug Culp

I release a new episode every Friday. I've missed some time, while I've been experiencing homelessness, and I think there are some very specific people to blame for that homelessness. I won't say their names here, to protect their identities, because when their identities are revealed I'm PRETTY SURE they're going to be killed...not a joke.

Be it a "The Matrix" simulation, be it a "holodeck" or "holosuite" or "dreamatorioum"...I don't care. What I care about is my life and the lives of those who've helped me along the way.

Will some of them die? Yes. Will I live? Yes.

Simply put...there are many stories out there with time variances and paradoxes and "The Ship Of Theseus" etc etc blah blah blah...I've made a lot of mistakes. One in a parking lot of a 7-Eleven when I got Beetlejuice'd to a driver's side door of some faggot's car, one when I got married to some bitch who called herself "Kaitlin Murphy Nelson", one when I briefly dated a crazy bitch who called herself "Chevon Medbin"...all of these mistakes, and more, have probably been heavily documented.

There are two who've contacted me over and over again, mentioning things they couldn't possibly have known about...unless I've been living in some sort of simulation. Call it a "Stockholm Syndrome Scenario", call it a "Stanford Prison Experiment", call it one of the Mission Impossible scenarios...all I know for sure is that I've been being pranked my entire life.

Punk'd? Maybe. Candid Camera? Maybe. Just For Laughs? Possibly (some moments in my life could only be described as "Well...he needed better writers.".

I'm posting this blog on May 23rd, 2024, at around 6:06 PM, Pacific Standard Time. If that means something to you, you either know what I'm talking about and where I'm coming from, or you don't.

As the stupid idiot assistant principal of my high school used to say: "Make it a great day...or not...the choice is yours." That guy was grasping at straws, probably trying to find the most objectively neutral phrase to say to the student body as possible. I don't remember another word he ever said.

IF YOU'VE READ ALL OF THIS, and you think my podcast deserves sponsorship, send me some suggestions to MOQBOY@GMAIL.COM, ONLY AFTER YOU'VE ALREADY CONFIRMED WITH SAID COMPANIES THAT THEY WOULD BE INTERESTED.

I'M SICK OF BEING HOMELESS. I'M READY TO MOVE ON WITH MY LIFE. I'm almost certain I'm already famous...if you care about me at all, please help me get RICH AND FAMOUS.

That's all for now. Take care of yourselves.

How Many Clipboards Are You Using?

 If you're not using clipboards, then how many tablets are you using?

If you're not using tablets, then how many writing instruments are you using?

If you're not using writing instruments, then how many recordings are you making?

If you're not recording, then how many times have you been streaming?

If you're not streaming, then HOW ARE YOU OBSERVING ME, AND WHY ARE YOU OBSERVING ME?

How long has this been going on? Do you feel okay? Do you feel ANYTHING?

This blog post feels forced. Shut up; Pay me.

Venmo: @Doug-Culp

CashApp: $DougsNugs

PayPal: Doug Culp's PayPal Link

WHAT IF HE LOOKED LIKE "THIS"???

 There have been many attempts to get me to "flirt" with men; I'm not interested.

There have been voices SCREAMING the "g" word at me, trying to convince me they are referring to "the happy definition". I wish for all of those voices to stop. KILL YOURSELVES, if that is what you need to get me to leave. I had a cool dream last night, where I was called back to a job a I used to have where I printed labels for a company. I'd like to get back to that job. I was paid, very well, and the minimum wage in California has gone up. If I find my way back to that job, I will be getting paid more than I was getting paid when I was working there in the first place.

If you have the ability, HELP ME GET BACK THERE. The "there" I'm referring to is North San Diego County. I had fun at that job. I had three breaks a day, and I was able to save up enough money to get me to move up to Los Angeles to try my hand at being a part of the entertainment industry.

Something tells me that there are multiple people trying to coerce those in the entertainment industry to "Just be bi-sexual...it would make everything SO MUCH EASIER.".

I'm here to tell you that that reality doesn't exist for me. The two "faggots" aka "gay men" who've been able to get through to my cellular signal asked me the last time they got me to answer their calls, that I was "protesting too much". Their attempts to try and "engage" me in this argument, is another attempt from the "faggots" or "gays" to try and "convert" me to their ways.

I've posted in a blog, before this one, that the animated movie where a "street rat" found a magic lamp and some faggot named "Jafar" wished for some animated lady named "Jasmine" to fall in love with him. The genie from the lamp explained that that CANNOT HAPPEN, in so many words; The same truths found within that movie, are still true today.

Some of the "voices" I've been hearing have been saying "You're gay..." as if some "pushing" or "helping" me to "reach" a different conclusion could be made.

YOU HAVE FAILED. YOU WILL LEAVE ME ALONE. YOU WILL LEAVE MY BRAIN, which has been infected by the STUPID BACTERIA EXPELLED from the tick bite I received when I was walking with my family in the Seattle, Washington area.

LEAVE! PAY ME, and LEAVE!!!

I'm looking forward to losing weight, playing Dance Dance Revolution on the 30 inch TV I got at a thrift store for $15! I'm going to get a PlayStation 2 and a Dance Dance Revolution game and I'm going to dance and get more points on this video game, made for exercising.

Will I be "exercising my demons"? Maybe. Will I be exercising my body? Yes.

To those two faggots who have access to my phone number, I ask: HOW DID YOU GET MY NUMBER? WHY ARE YOU CONTACTING ME? WHY WON'T YOU GO AWAY FOREVER?! If you truly "love" me, like I believe, you will stop contacting me and end your lives. Kill yourselves, so that you will never return. "YOU'RE DONE!", the voices say. "GET OUT OF HERE", is another thing they say.

I don't care. I don't care what you want for me. I don't care what you want for you.

LEAVE ME!

If You Were Born A "Female" RESPOND TO THIS BLOG POST; If You Were Born A "Male" And Have ZERO Sexual Wants Or Needs Of Me, PLEASE RESPOND TO THIS BLOG POST

 I'm ready to have a family. I have a mom and a dad, I have an older brother and two younger sisters. I'm ready to start a family of my own. If you were born a female, and you are also ready to have a family, and you are within reach of this blog post, please respond to this blog post. My address here at this homeless shelter is:

1000 NORTH ALHAMBRA AVENUE

LOS ANGELES, CA 90012

I'd like a hand-written letter, with a picture of yourself, and your domicile. I am ready to leave this homeless shelter that has taken good care of me, and to start a family. I don't have a job at this time. I've applied, and have been applying, to MANY jobs. If you consider yourself a friend and you were born a male, and you have female friends who would be willing to date me...MAIL ME A LETTER!

I've had two drinks, at two different points of this day, and I feel cogent and willing to do everything in my nature to destroy everyone and anyone who stands in my way to start a family. This "destruction" may be figurative or metaphorical.

I'm straight, aka heterosexual. I'm only interested in women who have a womb that I can impregnate with my sperm from my dick. If you are opposed to this, STOP READING NOW.

If you are in favor of this, please send me correspondence. Nude photos are allowed, nude videos are allowed...something tells me I've been here before, posting this same type of blog post; I won last time and I will win this time.

I'd like to have my family living in the Central Coast. I've mentioned this before, in a previous blog post, and those reading PROBABLY are familiar with these posts.

The dreams I had last night were disturbing. I've had many dreams in the past week or two which were encouraging. IF YOU'VE HAD ACCESS TO THESE DREAMS, I DEMAND YOU SEND ME A LETTER, EXPLAINING HOW AND WHY YOU'VE HAD ACCESS.

Mountain Dew, if you're reading, PLEASE SEND ME MORE OF YOUR SODA; I'D LIKE YOU TO BRING BACK YOUR FLAVOR CALLED "MOUNTAIN DEW DISTORTION". The drinks I've had before posting this blog were from a company called "VOODOO RANGER". If you're reading this, I'd like you to send more of this brew to the address already listed within this post.

I've been homeless, off and on, since late 2017; I believe I've spent enough time without a home of my own, and I would be willing to post flavor reviews with videos, provided I am paid beforehand. I've been messed with my entire life. I think that it's time the joke has ended. Those who went to high school with me at Larry A. Ryle High School have probably witnessed the "fucking with me" that has been happening, and something tells me that I may not be a the actual physical address I've provided.

If you are in communication with an individual known as "Jeremy Zimmerman", HALT ALL COMMUNICATION with him. I was informed via facebook post, that he is dead. If someone has been communicating as him, they are most likely an imposter...that, or he has been brought back from the dead. The former is more likely.

Once, Jeremy took me to a "gay bar". I stayed in the foyer area and played a video poker machine until he was done. I didn't have any curiosity to enter this "gay bar", as I'm straight. I was being supportive to my friend who had recently "come out" to me. This was in Clifton, Ohio...a "village" within the Cincinnati, Ohio region which is known for "fags" or "gays".

I don't care about "the gays". I don't care about "the fags". I don't care about any other nomenclature those stupid "butt-fuckers" have designated themselves as, as anything other than friendly people.

Something tells me there is an effor to "queer me up", as my FAGGOT UNCLE ROD put it, when he whipped his dick back and forth at me. I'm kinda glad he's dead. He lived in Contra Costa County, near the San Fransisco Bay Area, and I'm glad to be living far away from his house where he kindly let me stay for about 2 months.

While I was living at his house, my mom's 2nd cousin Jamie called and left me a threatening voicemail. I saved that voicemail on one of my previous phones, as proof that I was being threatened. He told me to kill myself.

If this was a "joke", it was ill-timed, and poorly worded. If this was an actual threat, my parents allowed me to move back in with them for a month or two while I got my feet back on the ground. I quickly found work again and was paying rent for a bedroom at a "town house" or "condo" in Herriman, Utah.

I was let go from that job after about 6 months of faithful work, for having a recorded effort to help customers know how to use the phone application to get 10% off on recent purchases. I think my boss, GARY, was incorrect in firing me, and I am owed unemployment benefits. Not only was I not warned, before termination, I was fired without any write-ups. I've had over 40 jobs and I'm 40 years old; At EVERY JOB I'VE EVER HAD, there is a policy of THREE WRITE-UPS before termination.

JCW'S, if you're reading this, I AM OWED UNEMPLOYMENT COMPENSATION FOR MY FIRING.

Sonic Drive-In and House Of Hukas, I'm also owed unemployment compensation from you.

If you are reading this, and you are a company ready to hire someone of great experience, I AM READY TO WORK AGAIN.

A pdf of my resume has been provided at my twitter profile at: A pdf of my resume, not including entertainment jobs

I'M TIRED OF THIS HOMELESSNESS SHIT. I'M READY TO WORK AGAIN!

PLEASE HELP ME!!!

I Had Some Weird Dreams Last Night

 One dream had a bunch of circus freaks performing on a stage, and it was entertaining. One dream had someone hitting on me that I didn't want to hit on me, and one dream had the same thing.

I was awoken with what felt like a "BONK" on the head, which is impossible because I've been staying in a private room alone, where I'm able to lock the door.

Why did I wake up with a three-claw scratch on my back that one day, when I was staying at that stupid shelter that I hated? Why have I been hearing a voice saying "You're on a podcast."? What's the name of said podcast? Why is it recording, and where is it recording?

If you know me, you know that you can communicated with me at the address provided in a previous blog post, via mail. I'm able to receive mail here at this homeless shelter, and something tells me there's some kind of holographic show, or set of movies, happening.

Once I was invited to be an audience member for a holographic stand-up comedy show. As far as the audience and I knew, the ONLY PEOPLE being recorded as holograms were the comedians. If this extended to the audience, it was done without our knowledge or permission. I've seen various metal posts with solar panels and blue lights, recently. It's as if I'm in an elaborate "FPS" episode of The X-Files mixed with a laser tag arena.

I'd like to leave this arena and rejoin the rest of the world who has been observing me in some sort of a "Gamer" (movie) "Death Race 2000" (movie) "The Fall Of The House Of Usher" (movie) sort of situation.

There is a part of me that wants to believe that there is some sort of a "It's A Wonderful Life" or "The Buttercream Gang" effect about to happen, but WHY WOULD I HAVE BEEN PUSHED THROUGH A FIRE?! WHY WOULD SOME RELIGIOUS FANATICS TRY AND JUSTIFY THEMSELVES BY CALLING THAT A "REFINER'S FIRE"?! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON AND WHERE THE FUCK AM I?!

If you have any answers for me, short of "You're on a podcast." or "You're being recorded.", let me know. It feels like I'm being fucked with on an astronomical level; I've said it before.

Pay me to continue creating.

Venmo: @Doug-Culp, CashApp: $DougsNugs, PayPal: a link to my paypal

Another Blog Post

 I had a dream last night where someone was attempting to throw me out of a mobile late night studio, which was flying high above the ground. I woke myself up before I could get thrown.

I had another dream that was attempting to be a sex dream, but there were a bunch of other people in the dream other than me and the woman who wanted to have sex with me.

I had another dream where a young girl, age 14 or 15, was attempting to get me to have sex with her; She made me play with her tits and she put her hand down my pants.

Listen...whoever is reading this, probably already knows that I've been experiencing this. Whoever is seeing this, knows that I'm straight (aka heterosexual) and that any attempt to make me think of having sex with someone I'm not attracted to has been thwarted.

There's an episode of Star Trek Voyager called "Waking Moments", but I'm watching it on Paramount + and for some reason it lists this episode as "Waking Moment's". This is a huge discrepancy, as an apostrophe adds meaning.

I've had a couple drinks, and I feel good; I feel my thoughts are cogent, organized, and succinct. I also feel that there has been an effort to "blend" the worlds of video games and real life, something I feel I've battled before. Once was while playing a game called Rampage, once was while playing a game called Tennis. I'm aware I'm typing this, I'm aware I'm being observed while typing this, and I'm aware that some of the "voices" who've been trying to "get through to me" have been saying "You're on a podcast". "Which podcast?" I think. Then there's no response. "You're the algorithm." "You're the Voyager." They say. There's some kind of an effort to connect me with my dad. My dad and I started a podcast called "Star Trek Enterpods" where we ventured to watch EVERY STAR TREK EVER, INCLUDING THE MOVIES, IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER...a podcast which would take at least 15 years, week-to-week, to listen to. WOW...what an accomplishment! We haven't yet received a single payment, a single endorsement, a single MENTION...and we are states away from each other. If this "father and son" thing are some kind of a "term" used from the "faggots" aka "the gays", then I want you all to shoot yourselves in the head with a bullet from a gun, with a lethal impact. KILL YOURSELVES AND KILL YOUR ATTEMPTS TO "queer" me up, as my uncle put it. Is my Uncle Rod ACTUALLY my uncle? Was there ever any family trying to reach out to me, or have I been in some kind of a simulation this entire time? How long has my life been? I clock that I am in my 41st year of my life. I was born December 22nd, 1983, and I keep a close watch on my birthday, as it falls close to Christmas every year.

Some years, my parents would put a present under the tree for me that said "Do Not Open Until Your Birthday." WHAT A FUNNY JOKE!!! WHAT A FUNNY PRANK!!! WHAT A FUN LIFE YOU HAVE PROVIDED FOR ME!!! WOW!!! KILL YOURSELVES!! KILL YOURSELVES RIGHT AFTER YOU READ THIS!

How Much Of The "Willing Suspension Of Disbelief" Has To Do With This?

 I know I am being observed. I know I am being communicated with from somewhere beyond my comprehension. I also know that the tick bite that was inflicted upon me when my family and I were walking somewhere in the Seattle Washington area was on purpose; What purpose was that? I don't know.

I watched a show, based on a comic book, called "Y The Last Man". I've got a notion that I am involved in this, somehow, and I'd like to know how. There has been evidence of tampering of my previous website: www.yamatat.com and I took a screenshot as proof. When I originally set up that website, I neglected to "spend more" for security, as I had trained myself to code said website, to post my podcast.

I'm up to episode 445 of my podcast, and I've sensed some attempted interference from sources unknown. I have posted a new episode, Fridays, and I've missed some time. Missing time...could it be "ALIEN ABDUCTION"??? Perhaps a "TEMPORAL ANOMALY"??? It occurs to me that the readers of this blog are curious as to why I haven't started "moqboymedia.wordpress.com" again as a means of communication. Well...I've had this blog active and I've tried to "restart" the blog at "wordpress", but have had no success.

I am certain that I am being "fucked with" on an astronomical level; I've discussed this before, and I assume I'll be discussing it again, as those who've been "fucking with me" are listening and watching. Be it, "clear titanium", be it "one of those cloaks that made the hobbits look like rocks, or those wizards and witches invisible", be it some kind of "Predator technology", someone or SOME THING has been observing me.

I've observed that I am being observed, and those observers are "ticked off". I'm a heterosexual male, seeking a (or MANY) heterosexual females to have sex with...to date...to start families with. I'd like to have sex again. The last time I had sex was with a woman named Julianna; She knows who she is, and she knows where she is...what she may not know is where I am.

I'd like to know where I am. I've noticed the "foliage" on the bridge near where I've been living is fake. Plastic leaves erected on the pylons supporting the train near my current home. Does this place feel like home? Does this place feel like somewhere I would be willing to settle living here for years at a time? No. This is a waystation, between places. I'm looking forward to moving back to Orcutt, California, and I'm also looking forward to moving back to San Marcos, California...those who've been paying close attention know the exact houses to which I'm referring.

I think I'm in some kind of a paradox, spurned by the "faggots" and the "gays" who are "certain" that I "MIGHT CHANGE MY MIND" as to my sexual orientation. I won't. You have lost. The readers of this blog either agree with me, or you will see consequences you've never imagined.

"BUT YOU SAID THAT THERE NEEDS TO ME MORE MERCY..." Yeah, I said that. I was really high when I said that. I know that whomever is watching and observing is probably some kind of a "fag" that "wishes" I'd venture off my "path" of heterosexuality.

I'm reminded of that animated Disney movie where a poor boy finds a lamp. At some point in that movie, a character named "Jafar" wishes for something to happen...the genie from that same lamp lets him know that that thing he wished for cannot happen. The faggots must die. The homosexuals must die. All of the "Large Marges" and "fake Jessica Rabbits" must die. "BUT MAYBE IF YOU JUST TRIED KISSING ONE OF THE BEASTS..." I'll stop you right there. Shut up, and pay me. Let me leave this "Q Continuum" or whatever-the-fuck you've called it. SHUT THE FUCK UP. LEAVE ME ALONE. LET ME HAVE SEX WITH THOSE I'M SEXUALLY ATTRACTED TO! END OF BLOG POST!

PAY ME

 Venmo: @Doug-Culp

CashApp: $DougsNugs

PayPal: Doug's PayPal

If I Find Out I've Been Abducted I'm Going To Be Very Upset

 Something tells me this has happened before; Something tells me that there are those who want this to happen again.

I released episode 445 of my podcast You And Me And Thoughts And Talk with Doug Culp earlier today. There are two stupid jerks who've been contacting me ever since I started my homelessness stint. I want these two stupid jerks to die. This is not flattery, this is not an insult to be taken any other way than an insult. I want them to die, and I want proof that they are dead.

It seems as though there are two idiots, be it the Pakleds, be it the stupids from the "Grups" episode of Star Trek, be it the Talosions from the "TALOS IV" episode of Star Trek...SOMEONE has been fucking with me on an astronomical level.

I feel as though those who are fucking with me, or "effing with me", are aware that I am aware that I'm being fucked with. I want the "fucking with me" to stop, and I want to start fucking with women, in a sexual way.

I've had a couple drinks, before this blog post. Something tells me that I MIGHT actually be "from" Reno, Nevada. That was the first place I accomplished a strike in the game known as bowling.

When I was working at the pizza place where I created the best pizza I've ever eaten, I spoke with two women known to me as Brooke and Ariel. I am attracted to Brooke; I am not attracted to the woman known as "Ariel", a daughter of someone I've known as Marshall.

If those reading this are connected in any way to the man known as Marshall Beyers, know that I am aware that I have been being "fucked with" or "effed with" by you.

I've asked those who are reading, from this blog, to comment in the comments section if they are opposed to what I have been saying and experiencing. Something also tells me that this is an experiment to see if I am able to express myself, in English, while experiencing drunkenness.

I've had two drinks, from a bitter swill known as Voodoo Ranger Imperial IPA; I do NOT enjoy the taste of this swill, but I enjoy the feeling I get when I drink from it. I recently purchased a 12-pack, from a supermarket, and I brought it with me to this homeless shelter where I've been staying. I'm watching another episode of Star Trek Voyager; In this current episode, the crew of Voyager have been being teleported and replaced with the inhabitants of a world I don't remember the name of. Something else tells me that the world in which I've been staying, would like me to move myself from here (aka Los Angeles, CA) to Reno, Nevada, the first place where I accomplished a strike in the game of bowling.

The two women I was referring to earlier, Brooke and Ariel, and I had a discussion about making out. We three coded "making out" as bowling. Know that whenever I've been bowling, I didn't consider it the same as making out.

On earth, making out refers to kissing with tongue. Bowling is simply a game of skill where the thrower of the bowling ball tries for a "STRIKE". 12 strikes and one has a "perfect game" adding up to 300. I've never had a perfect game, but I have had 5 strikes in a row, known as a 5-bagger. Once I went on a date with sexy girl named Crystal; On this date I got my highest bowling score I've ever had, at 197. I plan on beating that score, one day, but that day isn't today.

One of the other homeless people at a previous shelter I stayed at once referred to me as "Jeffrey Lebowski", a character from a movie called "The Big Lebowski". There are many great actors and actresses in this movie, and the only two who I'm attracted to sexually are Julianne Moore and Tara Reid.

Something tells me that these "trials" I'm being put through are an entryway to being taken seriously as an actor and a sexual being. In the movie The Big Lebowski, Julianne Moore's character is attracted to Jeff Bridges' character, and asks to have sex with him; I would have sex with Julianne Moore, and something tells me that when I had sex with Julianna (4 times in one night), that was some kind of a mating ritual.

I've mentioned Julianna in a previous blog post. I haven't mentioned Julia Sanz, but I'm attracted to her as well. Once, while I was living in an apartment in Vista California, I was living next door to Julia and her sister Liz. I'm more attracted to Julia. She bought a shirt I made as an iron-on, for my music project I've called "Really Glad You Came". Really Glad You Came was simply referring to the fact that, when playing a show, I'm really glad you came. There are many shows I've performed, as an entertainer, where FEW arrived to see the performance. There was one show, in particular, where there was ONE person in the audience. "A show is a show", I told myself and the audience member, so I performed.

There was one audience member, known to me as Justin Cullen. He's a fan of my comedy and, one time, he sent me a text message where he put his dick into a drink and mixed it up with his dick. I was appalled and hated his "gesture", and told him to never contact me again, in so many words.

It occurs to me that the two stupid idiots, are on a mission to reconnect me and this fan, but I don't want that.

If any of you, reading this, have ANY INFORMATION on anything I've talked about, please leave a comment in the comments section of this blog post, tweet to me @DougHighScore, or send me a hand-written letter to the address I've listed in a previous blog post.

Something also tells me that the purveyors of a "clique" known as "Odyssey Of The Mind" are some of the stupid jerks running this campaign of pain, this campaign of loneliness, this campaign of "MAYBE IF HE HASN'T HAD SEX WITH A WOMAN IN A LONG TIME, then MAYBE HE'LL CONSIDER OTHER OPTIONS???" It won't happen.

If you're reading this, somehow, AS I'M TYPING THIS, I'd like you to consider yourselves dead to me...and I'd like for you to kill yourselves and to send me proof that you are dead; This would require an impartial third party to send the proof, once you are dead. I'd really like that.

If you are, somehow, playing Fallout 4 with me as I'm playing (a single-player game), then I'd also like proof of that. Let me tell you, killing a character or characters IN A VIDEO GAME does NOT count as your death(s). I would ACTUALLY LIKE for you obsessives to murder yourselves, so that I never see or hear from you again.

The alcohol has dictated some of what I have typed here, and I like the feeling that has been provided from this alcohol; I am reminded of a time when I returned from The Dominican Republic and my own mom didn't recognize me until she read my nametag. HOW DIDN'T SHE RECOGNIZE ME? WAS IT BECAUSE I WASN'T WEARING GLASSES?! Something tells me that it's not related to that at all, but that the "Invasion Of The Bodysnatchers" "Mars Attacks" "Suliban" character POSING as my mom, wasn't actually my birth mother but, instead, an imposter.

Odyssey Of The Mind, you ask? Possibly. Or I'm possibly on a table somewhere, or in a bathtub somewhere, or in a sensory deprivation tank somewhere, being fucked with.

I don't agree with the stupid jerks. I don't agree with what has been done to me.

I'd like for those who have the ability, to heal my scars on my legs, to heal the damage that was purposefully done when I had a ROUTINE operation on my inguinal hernia with an experimental "METAL MESH" to block my ball from receding, and my intestines from pushing through the inguinal wall hole.

My legs lack the tendon able to strengthen my muscles after a workout; My arms lack the tendon able to strengthen my muscles after a workout. My neck lacks the tendons able to strengthen my muscels after a workout. THIS HAS ALL BEEN PERPETRATED by the tick that bit me when I was on a "nature walk" with my family in the Seattle Washington area.

If you, or anyone you know, was the provider of this "tick bite", I consider you dead to me, and I want you to send me your death certificate(s), through a third party.

If you thought this would be "funny", you're an idiot and I wish for you to die immediately.

The two stupid jerks who called me, got through when I answered, two days ago, and they asked me "AREN'T YOU PROTESTING TOO MUCH?" To that I answer here, the same way I answered in that phone call: No.

If this post makes you uncomfortable, kill yourself. If the way I act when I have had a couple drinks makes you uncomfortable, kill yourself. If you are reading this, somehow, AS I AM TYPING THIS, you will probably have to kill yourself.

I sense a GIGANTIC trial, soon, as I have obviously been put under some kind of observation. I challenge anyone and everyone who reads this, to share it with your local newspaper; Share this post with those closest to you. Share this post to the leaders of every country in the world.

I'm getting tired of typing. I'd love to fulfill a greater role in the entertainment industry. I have a lot of awesome ideas, some of which I HOPE haven't been poached in an effort to reach out to me.

I Think I've Lapped The Simulation

Read THIS:

I think I've lapped whatever simulation may, or may not, be running.

I've got a dance pad for Dance Dance Revolution. I plan on playing that game again once I have a PlayStation 2 again. I have a TV in my room, but the screen is broken, and the "director" of this homeless shelter has informed me that rather than replacing this TV, they would move me to another room. I'm comfortable in this room. I'm on the third floor, and going up and down the stairs is some kind of exercise. I'm looking forward to playing Dance Dance Revolution again, cause it's a good form of exercise and it's also a video game.

The episode of Star Trek Voyager I'm on started where they destroyed an asteroid headed for the surface of a nearby planet, and some of the fragments of that asteroid are heading for that planet.

I had a dream, last night, where there was a floor that needed mopping; Instead of mopping the floor, they flooded the floor and those who were in charge of mopping had to exit the floor. It didn't make sense to me. Tom Cruise was in that dream and I talked with him about the floor mopping situation and nothing else. There was nother dream I had that I haven't posted about where I was in a room with Neil Patrick Harris and I was playing video games; All I was concerned with was playing video games. I could have asked him about his career, but all I wanted to do in that dream was play more video games.

More and more, someone has been trying to convince me that I'm in some kind of a simulation, or a holodeck, or a holosuite, or a dreamatorium...if I was in any of these, there would be a way to call out to whatever computer was running these and EXIT the simulation.

Someone has been changing the volume of the media I've been consuming; I cannot explain this. I can only assume that someone else is in this room with me, and they are invisible. If they are not invisible, they are observing me from somewhere else.

I have a telescope on my leg; It was "carved" into my leg when the doctors who helped me with skin grafts took skin off of my left thigh to compensate for the loss of skin on my left and right shins after I tried to jump over a fire. The fire was too high. I suffered and burned. Two of the EMTs who helped me were there within seconds of my landing on the ground on the opposite side of the fire; They resembled two people I've known from my life. One of them resembled an entertainer named Scott Aukerman, and the other resembled my brother in-law Kelly Thomson.

For some reason, one day, my sister Natalie fist-bumped her husband Kelly and said "fist bump...totally normal thing for a wife to do to her husband." Something tells me there's a consortium of nerd "geniuses" trying to "compose" whatever I'm writing to the readers of this blog.

Once I submitted myself to the MacArthur Genius Grant; I believe some, or all, of the previous winners of this grant are involved in the confusion and interest readers may or may not have experienced in my writings.

I know I'm smart, I know I'm capable of running a writers room. I know I'm capable of leading a team of creative people in making MANY television shows and movies, to entertain the masses. It occurs to me that some of the "geniuses" involved in all of this consider "the masses" to be ants...ants who pay their bills; Ants who are grateful to have a distraction from their lives as workers in this amalgam of menial tasks to get them from one day to the next.

Something I didn't mention about that dream from last night was one of my bosses from a previous job was there. She and I kissed, but something was off. Our teeth bumped into each other, as if this "boss" had never made out before. Some of these "geniuses" aka "virgins" may not have experienced making out before, and something tells me that this bumping of teeth together was meant to be a "meet cute". Not only does it not count as a meeting, but it's not cute. It only brings me to the conclusion that some aliens might ACTUALLY BE ALIENS, and they don't have lips and they don't know what making out is.

If you've ever seen the movie called Mars Attacks, it deals with aliens who try to infiltrate earth. One of the humans tries to make out with one of the aliens, and it simply doesn't work. One of the aliens attempting to infiltrate earth, puts an alien head on a human woman's body and it's freakish to watch.

Two of these freaks have been calling me, on my personal cell phone; They are both men, and they both think that any amount of conversation constitutes a "meeting of the minds" or some kind of a "date". They are wrong. They should be killed. I don't care about them. I don't want to MEET with them, in whatever context that means to each of them. After our conversation yesterday, I set my phone to "Do Not Disturb". Before I went to sleep last night, I stopped the "Do Not Disturb" option on my phone, in case I was to receive any calls or texts from important people. I received another call from "them" today, from a PRIVATE NUMBER, and instead of answering, I set my phone to "Do Not Disturb" again.

There is a point of contention between me and these two virgin asshole pieces of shit. When I was staying in a different homeless shelter, under the same name that this current homeless shelter shares, they called me and tricked me into doing numerous things that I didn't care about. Once, they told me to start a conversation with an ugly girl who was standing outside of one of the buildings near that shelter. They told me to dance with her. I responded that I didn't want to do that. I think this might have been an attempt to get me to GET WITH another girl I wasn't attracted to, to further their STUPID plan to get me to end up with a girl I'm not attracted to.

Not only do I not want to end up with a girl I'm not attracted to, similar to the Norm and Vera Peterson storyline from Cheers, but I want these two idiots to die. I'm referring to actual death. I want them to die for what they've done to me, and for what they've wanted to do to me.

If you have any objections to ANYTHING I've typed in this blog post, DON'T respond in the comments section of this post. That's all for now. I'm gonna get back to this episode of Star Trek Voyager.

Unrelatable Experiences

 Does anyone else remember that show where people were expressing sexual attraction to things that couldn't possibly show an attraction in return?

There was this show, and I don't remember what this show was called, but some fat ugly lady claimed that she got married to The Eiffel Tower. I remember watching this show and thinking "This lady is insane. Why would they put this on television? Why am I watching this?" I'll tell you why they put it on television...because that lady is insane! What was she attracted to? Was it the architecture? Was it the metals? Was it the placement of the tower? I simply cannot explain why this lady was attracted to a tower.

I recently tried to log back in to my podcast, to see some statistics and analytics on how my podcast was doing. I am up to 444 episodes of my podcast called "You And Me And Thoughts And Talk with Doug Culp", and I am unable to log in to check on my stats, and I will be unable to log in to post more episodes for this upcoming 445th episode.

"SPOTIFY FOR PODCASTERS", contact me. I am unsure why you would not only change your format to the app I've been using, but I am also unsure as to why I can't log in to my account anymore.

If any readers of this blog post see this, and want to hear more podcast episodes, DEMAND that they reply in the comments section of this blog post, so that I will be able to post my thoughts via my podcast, which I have been posting independently, since around the year 2013. There have been weeks and weeks where I have been unable to post podcast episodes; I have been homeless, I have lived on the streets, I have avoided the house I used to live in, located at 5303 La Mirada Avenue, Los Angeles, California, 90029, which is currently posted to my Google Maps as "Work". Something tells me that this is an ulterior motive from the faggot who used to live with me at that same address, to "WORK ON" an invisible and impossible "RELATIONSHIP".

I'm straight. I'm only attracted to women. I sense that there have been multitudes of efforts to try and disprove this, and to those involved in this, I say, "KILL YOURSELVES". If this is an effort to get me to move BACK to the "BAY AREA", you have failed. If this is an effort to get me to "WANDER OFF FROM THE SAFE PLACE WHERE YOU'VE FOUND YOURSELF LIVING", you have failed. I know in my heart, and in my mind, that I am only attracted to those who were born "FEMALE" and have the capability to reproduce in "THE OLD-FASHIONED WAY".

I've been hearing voices, and some of them have said "You're DONE!" and to them I say "What are you talking about?" What could they be referring to? To those who argue that a sentence can't be ended with a preposition, I say "What the fuck is your problem?" Why won't you send me multitudes of women to this shelter located at 1000 North Alhambra Avenue, Los Angeles, California, 90012?

Where are you? Where am I?

I feel like I might be on the "set" of an actual show, being filmed and recorded without my permission or knowledge, and to those filming and recording I say, "BACK OFF!" "KILL YOURSELVES!" If you have thought that I am being held for a "greater purpose", you might be wrong. I wanna play music again. I wanna entertain again. I wanna make my living doing things I love to do. I won't "DO" people I'm not attracted to. Not only does that not make sense, LOGICALLY, it doesn't make sense ETHICALLY, it doesn't make sense INTELECTUALLY, and it doesn't make sense EMOTIONALLY.

If you ACTUALLY CARE for my well-being, you will BACK OFF, you will RESPECT DISTANCE, and you will SEND ME WORK I ACTUALLY WANT TO DO, and you will LET ME ESCAPE THIS HOMELESSNESS WORMHOLE I'VE FOUND MYSELF IN.

If anyone from the company known as "Spotify" sees this, PLEASE COMMENT IN THE COMMENTS SECTION OF THIS POST, TO ALLOW ME TO CONTINUE TO VOICE MYSELF THROUGH MY PODCAST.

The dream I had last night was disappointing. Brooke wants to have sex with me; I know it. Whoever that other chick was in that dream from last night should kill herself.

There Was A Scene In A Movie Called "Take This Waltz" Where A Bunch Of Ugly Women Were In A Shower Scene With Two Sexy Women

 Last night I was prompted to look up the nude scenes in a movie called "Take This Waltz".

There was a scene where Michelle Williams and Sarah Silverman were showering with some woman between them, and then a bunch of ugly and fat women appeared in the showers across from them. They were having a conversation and showering without soap, without shampoo, just showering.

I finished at the shower scene, ignoring the woman who was standing between Michelle and Sarah.

It seems there's some sort of an effort to jack off to "super mutants", as proposed in the games Fallout 3 and Fallout 4. There seems to be some effort from a bunch of "fat fucks" (or Mojos), in an attempt to encourage mating rituals with "EVERYONE".

There's some kind of a "BORG" effort to "just jack off to EVERYONE"...a notion counter to sexuality; This notion has been confirmed over and over again, throughout my life. There have been previous girlfriends I've had, who didn't meet with my sexual standards. WHY DID I DATE THEM? WHY DID I CONTINUE TO DATE THEM? It's another Beetlejuice scenario. "If you could find Winona Rider sexy in Beetlejuice, why not find others in that film sexual?" Some of these quotations are prompted by "the voices" who've been communicating with me.

There's a "condition" known as ED aka Erectile Dysfunction, pushed by the virgins in "big pharma" as a potential reason that I wouldn't be "able" to have sex with "EVERYONE AND ANYONE"; This notion is frightening and bigoted.

Why would there be an effort to have sex with "anyone and everyone"? Why would the "hedonists" want, so badly, to have sex with me? I have sexual appeal. I have sexual drive. I have the want and need to only have sex with those whom I find sexually attractive to me.

I'm currently watching another episode of Star Trek Voyager, another example of the virgins in whatever "Q Continuum" consider an "illusion". I know that this show was filmed with cameras and sets in the 1990's, I know that I am sitting in front of a computer on May 14th, 2024, typing a blog post on a laptop, and I know that someone somewhere is using a "thought-voice-changer" to express what I am thinking and feeling in every moment.

I've recently heard some of the "voices" saying that "You're on a podcast" and, last night, I thought at them to write me a hand-written letter telling me the name of said "podcast" to the address I've provided in a previous blog post.

I've had two drinks, pre-blog post, and I feel I am being encouraged and pushed to write this.

If you know me, you know I was brought up in a church called The Church of JESUS CHRIST of Latter-Day Saints; "Do Mormons drink?" you may ask. Sometimes, they do. Sometimes I do drink alcohol. I didn't drink alcohol until one day in San Diego County at a party, where I was informed that the punch at Alexis' party didn't have any alcohol in it; It did. I only had maybe a quarter of a cup of that "spiked punch" and I felt very little effect. Since that party, I've experimented with a few mixed drinks, some beers, and I've found a nice equilibrium where I can drink and get drunk, but NOT black out.

I've only gotten "blackout" drunk one time. I was living in the Weingart Homeless Shelter at 566 South San Pedro Street, Los Angeles, CA, 90013. I bought a "handle" of tequila at a bottle shop in Boyle Heights, after my shift at a nearby cannabis dispensary where I was working at the time. I drank that handle on my bus ride back to that shelter, and I passed out shortly after exiting the bus. A friend of mine at that shelter warded away some scavengers who were trying to take my things from me, and guarded them for me in his room, while I was brought to a nearby hospital. I woke up with an IV in my arm, and some new clothes they had put on me; I walked out of there and made my way back to that homeless shelter. My friend spotted me and told me what had happened, then he gave me my stuff back. I am grateful to that friend. Would I have sex with that friend? Absolutely not. Would I invite that friend to a party at some point? Probably. I don't have his phone number, but he has my phone number.

I assume that some of the "Q Continuum" jackholes, or faggots, assumed that I have "held a torch" for that man. I'm not attracted to men. If any man anywhere in any situation asked me for some kind of sex, I'll deny them. I hear that the jerks using their "thought-voice-changer" have changed the thought sound to include the "Emergency Holographic Program" voice from Star Trek Voyager, as they're thinking "BUT WHAT IF HE WAS JUST A HOLOGRAM? WOULD THAT BE OKAY?" Not only would it not be "okay", but it would be a form of sexual assault and rape, and those involved would be subject to a firing squad. Death to those who don't believe me. Death to those who want me to have sex where I don't feel sexual attraction. Death to those who are yelling at me "through the ether". Death to those who feel I've been playing a game of "THREE DIMENSIONAL CHESS" my whole life.

If you are in earshot, or eyeshot, of this blog post and you are able to understand my words...know this: I won't have sex with you unless I'm sexually attracted to you. "BUT...YOU GOT BEETLEJUICE'D INTO HAVING SEX WITH SOME PEOPLE OR BEINGS YOU DIDN'T AGREE WITH"; Those were cases of sexual assault and rape. My ex-wife Kaitlin, my ex-girlfriend Chevon, my ex Isabel, my ex-girlfriend Becca Mollere...all cases of sexual assault and rape in the guise of "sexual experimentation". There are certainly more cases throughout my life, where I've been affected in a negative way, and to them I say "Please die, forever. Get away from my body, get away from my mind. Loosen the grip you have on me and let me drift away from you."

If you are reading this and you are affected...good. GET AWAY FROM ME! LET ME LIVE MY LIFE, LOVE WHO I LOVE, AND LUST AFTER THOSE WOMEN WHERE I FIND SEXUAL ATTRACTION! SHUT UP AND GET AWAY FROM ME!!"

Can I Please Have My Belongings Returned To Me?

I've been alive for over 40 years. I sense there is an effort to make me return to the stage to do stand-up comedy again. I'd like to perform music again. I am well-versed in piano and guitar; I started playing piano at the age of 6 and I started playing guitar at the age of 15. I've written over 40 songs and one of them is a classical piece I unexpectedly wrote at a very young age.

I've been staying at homeless shelters, lately, and I am currently at a homeless shelter which has provided me a private bedroom, a private bathroom with a shower included. I feel good here. I've got little motivation to return to the stand-up stage, as I believe I've qualified for the Andy Kaufman Scholarship. I have a "Metacritic Score" of 65%, and I am still willing to work a normal job.

I'd like to work at a bowling alley. There's a bowling alley I found, which is also present in a video game called Fallout 4; I think this bowling alley is also present in a video game called Fallout 3. I have both of these video games in my "Steam" account, and I have almost completed my storyline in Fallout 4. There are some situations in this game which present themselves as "jumpy".

There was a moment when I was driving from Los Angeles County up to Utah, and I was using a solar panel on my roof, powering a battery in my vehicle. I used logic found in a movie called Back To The Future, accelerating to a speed of 88 miles per hour. At some point in that acceleration, the wind speed tore the solar panel off my roof and ended up smashing up somewhere along the Interstate 15; I was near Las Vegas at the time.

Something tells me there are "bisexual aliens" trying to pinpoint my position, but I have been careful.

Something also tells me that I am being observed through either an implant in my eye (put in by an eye doctor when I was only 3 years old), or through the technology I've been using. I'm typing this on a Dell Precision M4800 laptop, and I recently told the internet my address. When I searched that same address on Google Maps, there was a picture taken "3 days ago" of an empty lot! I am typing this from the third floor of a homeless shelter where I've been staying for 2 months and 6 days!

At some point in my journeys, I was compelled to lay a tarp down in front of a Jack In The Box at Sunset Blvd & Beaudry Ave. While I was laying on that blue tarp, someone rushed over from the parking lot and took some of my belongings. I worked VERY HARD over the past 25 years to procure said belongings, and I also believe there are forces attempting to make me seem "unstable", something that has been disproven as I've flown "Over The Cuckoo's Nest" THREE TIMES! I hear a voice in my head in the voice of "Doctor Emmett Brown" from the Back To The Future series, dictating what I am typing to you RIGHT NOW!

My font, named "Face It Font" is probably, or possibly, being used to communicate some or all of this to you. It took over a year and a half to draw this font, all in capital letters, and it's something I've been very happy to make! You can find that font posted on the internet at: dougathan.deviantart.com

I also feel that I have "lapped myself", somehow, in this game that doesn't feel like a game. Voices from I-don't-know-where have been commenting on my journey and my life, day-to-day, over the last year and a half of my life. There have been three homeless shelters I've stayed at, before this one, and this one is the best one of the 4; There are still signs of interference. I believe some virgins, sailing high above the earth, think that after SO MUCH TIME without having sex, that I'd "give in" and have sex with anyone who presented themselves to me. This also is combined with an effort to "queer me up" as my Uncle Rod put it, the day he was naked and passed out in his atrium. I helped him up and then, soon after, he whipped his dick back and forth, claiming "I'm not trying to queer you up or nothing." (as a side note, he introduced me to some hot sauces he'd bought, said I was free to use them, and then got angry at how much I was using them on food I walked and got from a nearby 7-Eleven!).

I'm in the middle of a 2-part episode of Star Trek Voyager, where they are pulled back in time to 1996, a year VERY CLOSE to my sexual awakening; I referred to this sexual awakening in a previous post.

Something also tells me that this is all an effort to make me famous, in a way that the voices claim "We thought this is what you wanted". I want to be famous, and rich. I feel I am owed duffel bags upon duffel bags of cash, along with all of my belongings I've procured over the past 25 years, ALONG WITH giving me the coordinates to my current location and a detailed map of instructions of how to return to the pizza place called "Rossi's Pizza", where I created the best pizza I've ever tasted; Upon arriving there, I will not only collect my earnings on "Doug's Delight", but I will be delighted to work there and get paid hourly, serving pizza and beer and all of the other foods we served when I worked there around the year 2008.

When I am typing this, it is May 13th, 2024, and I am still looking forward to going back to the house  where my family and I lived in 1998, in Orcutt, California.

Los Angeles, I love living here, and I have loved living here, but that STUPID church abbreviated as TCoS, has DEFINITELY been involved in my security AND MY INSECURITY. There was once an acting job that I accidentally accepted from them, and I soon received a response telling me I got the job. When I saw who it was from, I politely declined.

There was a video game contest I had been involved in, which I believe still to be active, and I believe I have won...contingent on finishing three challenges. THESE CHALLENGES MIGHT HAVE BEEN CREATED BY ME, IN THE PAST, AND THIS "TCoS" might have been making an effort for me to finish these challenges (along with some "extra credit" which I never agreed to).

I write this of sound mind and body. I had two drinks before I wrote this post. I feel good. I went on a "hike" earlier today, to procure some drinks and sweets. I had some dinner, provided by this homeless shelter, along with those drinks; Something tells me that an organization called PETA is involved in all of this, trying to "guilt" me into believing that "If I am to treat all ethically, then WOULDN'T IT BE ETHICAL TO TRY AND HAVE SEX WITH EVERYONE??? WHAT A CROCK OF SHIT!!! WHY WOULD ANYONE, IN THEIR RIGHT MIND, TRY TO SEXUALLY SATISFY EVERYONE?! WHAT PURPOSE WOULD THAT SERVE?! WHAT MOTIVATION WOULD THERE POSSIBLY BE?

In one of the homeless shelters I stayed at, before this one, I remember some jerk who referred to himself as "Money", told me that he wanted to date women he's not sexually attracted to. WHY WOULD ANYONE DO THAT, WILLINGLY?! WHY?!?!

There are a few instances, in my life, where that happened, and I feel I was "Beetlejuice'd" into each instance.

If you have any information on the "Beetlejuicing" that has been happening, please make it known in the comments section of this post.

If you would like to reach out to me, personally, please send me a hand-written letter to an address I've posted in one of my recent blog posts, or an email address I've also posted in one of my recent blog posts.

If the reader(s) reading this, or listening to this, have ANY INFORMATION, PLEASE CONTACT ME!

Listen To My Podcast

 I've recorded episode 444 of my podcast called You And Me And Thoughts And Talk with Doug Culp here:

YAMATAT 444 - Shut Up And Pay Me

The Day I Recognized Someone Said "Doug Is Listening, Doug Is Listening" Was The Day You "GAYS" Failed

I won't recount this story unless it is in person, face to face, and if I am asked about that day.

I sense a court "date" is forthcoming.

If The Prime Directive Is About NOT Messing With Other Cultures, I've Failed On Purpose

 Fuck you.

Kill yourselves.

I'll go down with the "ship", which has probably been shortened from the word "relationship".

"What IS a relationship?", you may ask. A relationship is when two consenting adults have sexual intercourse; This probably brings into question, "When does a relationship start?" or "What IS a relationship without sex?" A relationship without sex is a friendship. Wow...this probably resets a bunch of your timelines, and that's okay. Once I had sex with a woman on the first night we met. I'd contend that we had a successful relationship, and we could possibly get back together. We had sex 4 times in 1 night! I made dinner for both of us before. As I have Lyme Disease (I was told it's terminal and that I would eventually die from it) my body is weak and does not regenerate muscle; The muscles seem to simply return to a state of "back to before I stressed them". One time, while this woman and I were dating, we went to a park; I lifted her and started to walk her and myself to the top of this hill, and I lost the ability to continue carrying her. I think either she took this as an insult, or she knew exactly what my body was going through at the time. Either way, that relationship ended soon after.

I believe I have been seuxally molested; There was an instance where I was VERY high on drugs, and I ended up in a 7-Eleven parking lot. There was this guy in a car who "Beetlejuice"'d me to his driver's side door. He opened his door and I was compelled to pull down my pants. He tried to suck my dick, but I didn't get hard. This is proof that I'm not attracted to men. If you're reading this, and you're the person who Beetlejuice'd me into pulling down my pants to let you suck on my limp dick, I WANT TO SEE YOU PUBLICLY EXECUTED; I'm not kidding, I'm not joking, I want you to die. I would like to do it myself, but something tells me that's happened before. Something tells me that this has all happened before, in the same order, and the same details have happened, resulting in me captaining my own spaceship through space.

Some of you might think, "Isn't driving a CAR through the space contained on EARTH, the same as FLYING a SHIP through SPACE?" To that, the answer is: NO. Not only is driving a car, NOT similar to flying a ship through space, but I would contend that the two cannot be compared. There are mechanics to both driving, and flying, but driving is easy. I feel I've been on "Normal Mode" in whatever stupid "Space Captain's Test" has been happening.

Earlier, I was unable to LOCK MY DOOR to MY ROOM in this homeless shelter where I've been staying. One of the voices that's been yelling at me "through the ETHER" told me to "GO HOME".

As someone who was told he was born in "The Bay Area" aka "The San Fransisco Bay Area", and was moved at the age of 2 to Reno, Nevada, and then at the age of 7 to Tulsa, Oklahoma, and then at the age of 10 to a town called Orcutt, California, and then at the age of 14 to Florence, Kentucky...WHERE IS HOME? Many might consider "home" where "the heart is"; That's a metaphor for sure. My heart is in my body. I'm told my body is in Los Angeles, California. Los Angeles DOES NOT feel like my home.

I keep thinking back to how awesome the house was where my family and I lived when we were living in Orcutt. I mentioned Orcutt before when I talked about my sexual awakening. That house, on a street I'll keep private until I'm allowed to move there again, with assistance, is one of the best houses I've lived in. "YOU CAN'T END A SENTENCE WITH A PREPOSITION!" Shut up; Yes I can. You know what I'm talking about.

This is NOT A QUESTION of grammar. This is a question of where I've felt the most "at home". Orcutt California and some of its surrounding cities is where I've felt the most at home. While I was on a 2-year mission for The Church of JESUS CHRIST of Latter-Day Saints, I planned a future home for myself. I modeled that home after the Orcutt, California home I was moved from when my family and I moved to Florence, Kentucky.

Jenee, if you're reading this, I still think about you; Our kiss was awesome...sexual...life-changing.

If I wake up one day and this turns out to have been a simulation "The Matrix-style", then I'll walk, or drive, or fly away and find those who were actually women, aka females, aka born with a vagina without any "Outer Limits" or "Brave New World" kinds of alterations with whom I've had sexual connections.

If ANY of the women/girls/females I've kissed or have kissed me, or have shared a space with me and felt a sexual connection, see this, please send me a hand-written letter to: 1000 NORTH ALHAMBRA AVENUE, LOS ANGELES, CA, 90012.

END OF BLOG POST.

I'd Like To Quit The Space Captain's Test, As I've Already Passed And Won My Freedom

Shut up. PAY ME.

I feel good. I'm currently watching an episode of Star Trek Voyager. They are planning on making an alliance with the Kazon. This has nothing to do with this blog post, I'm simply letting the readers know where I am in the "watch-through" of every Star Trek ever. I know that some of you "wish" that I would wait to watch and podcast along with my dad, as a continuation of "Star Trek Enterpods", a podcast I started with him to watch through every episode and movie that has been made based on the Star Trek started by Gene Roddenberry.

As you know, I've worked for 1-800-Pro-Flowers, in association with "Sheri's Berris". "Berris", of course, is a shortening of the word "berries".

If you think that I will continue to kow tow to this absurdist movement to "explore language" in an effort to get me to jack off to every and any instance in every and any position and location, you will die.

I have no desire to participate in the Pakled BULLSHIT some of you "observers" are aqcuainted to.

The "Dominican Republic" will fall into the ocean. The country known as "Haiti" will fall into the ocean; Before both of those countries, sharing an island known as "Hispanola" fall into the ocean, everyone there will be destroyed.

There was an apartment/townhouse that I shared once with someone who introduced themself as "Amber", known in my phone contacts as "Amber Roommate". When I saved that contact as "Amber Roommate", there was zero indication of sexual concourse, there was zero intention of sexual concourse, and there was zero intention of sexual intercourse. This "person" known as "Amber Roommate", should be destroyed. She/HE/it was a clear attempt for me to copulate with a sexual incompatible...a mutant...a trans-freak of nature. "Amber Roommate" is one of the voices I've been hearing in my head; This leads me to believe that I may be being held captive in 14933 South Lost Miner Lane, Herriman, Utah, 84096. I believe this "zip code" was chosen as a reference to the Boy Scouts Of America Scout troop I used to belong to: Troop 96. Please deliver me from this evil address, and rescue me, as I think I am most certainly being held captive in a simulator known as Advance Market Analytics. The headquarters of this company is located in India. This also leads me to believe that I might be being held captive in India.

Please send a rescue team to pick me up; One of those voices "in my head" just said "We hate you!" This is further proof that I am probably NOT currently in Los Angeles, California, where the GPS Location software has led me to believe.

If you are within visible or auditory range of this communication, I urge you to contact your local authorities. I MOVED BACK TO LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA. I ONCE WAS ENCOURAGED/COMPELLED TO JACK OFF TO "THE MULTIVERSE". This was another attempt to "turn" me from a straight man, into a "queer". Like I've said before: FOOD PORN is a MYTH. The voices who've been communicating with me are ENEMIES TO THE PROGRESSION OF THE HUMAN RACE.

Destroy the detractors; Destroy them all.

There is someone who identified HIMSELF as "JAEN"; He is a "sister" who I've known my whole life as "Natalie Jane Culp". Culp might be an identifier as someone who "CUMS" and also drinks "BIG GULPS". This is absurd. This whole test is absurd. KILL THE SIMULATION. KILL THE ROBOTS. KILL THE CYLONS.

I've said it before, but this REEKS of a test from the "CYLONS" from a series known as BATTLESTAR GLACTICA.

THE SPACE CAPTAIN'S TEST is a lie. EVERYTHING YOU'VE EVER KNOWN as a "test of your will" is a lie.

KILL THE SIMULATION, KILL THOSE ADMINISTERING THE SIMULATION.

Let me live. ALSO, I might be being held at 5303 La Mirada Avenue, Los Angeles, California, 90029. I posted to Google Maps, once, that that was my place of employ. I am currently at the address known as 1000 North Alhambra Avenue, Los Angeles, California, 90012.

PLEASE SEND HELP IN THE FORM OF DUFFEL BAGS FULL OF CASH TO "1000 NORTH ALHAMBRA AVENUE, LOS ANGELES, CA, 90012. I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE. I NEED HELP. HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As a precursor for "DougsNugs", Doug's Nugs is an account I set up for quick access to pay,AND GET PAID, for Doug Culp.

Please pay me...PLEASE PAY ME! I NEED TO GET OUT OF THIS HOMELESS SHELTER AND TO A PRIVATE LOCATION WHERE I WILL BE ALLOWED TO BE PAID TO ENTERTAIN THE MASSES AS AN INDIVIDUAL! MY DREAM WAS INTERRUPTED TWO NIGHTS AGO! MY DREAM WAS INTERRUPTED LAST NIGHT! PLEASE HELP!

If you'd like to help, in a "DIGITAL" form, you know the links where you can pay me, but for those who are new to this, here they are again:

 VENMO FOR DOUG CULP

CASHAPP for DougsNugs

PAYPAL for DOUG CULP

Why Would I Be Hearing A Voice Saying "We Hate You"?

 I've determined through deep study of my own subconscious that there are "voices" speaking to me from another place. I don't see the purveyors of these voices, but they are definitely communicating with me.

I had a dream last night that I was having a party with my friends and family; sometimes both have been synonymous. There was pizza and my mom made her signature Crock Pot pot roast, and everything was great! I was awoken RIGHT when I was about to be able to eat and enjoy the food and company I was offered, and then I heard voices and felt sensory impressions from those who are observing me; something told me those who are observing me wanted me to JACK OFF because of being in the company of those who love me, included with the food we were sharing.

"FOOD PORN" IS A MYTH! Those who have been pushing the idea of "food porn" have convinced me, in the past, to post tags with #foodporn for things I've prepared and then eaten. FOOD DOES NOT CAUSE A SEXUAL RESPONSE FOR ME. That episode of Seinfeld, where they started associating food with sex, is a myth. JERRY SEINFELD, YOU OWE ME AN EXPANATION FOR WHAT HAS BEEN HAPPENING! Comedians In Cars Getting Coffee sounds like a fun show. I'd like to be included; I started doing stand-up comedy in 2007, and it's now 2024.

I had two drinks before posting this. I feel good. I feel drunk enough to post my thoughts and feelings on what I've been experiencing.

I'm currently watching an episode of Star Trek Voyager, while I'm typing this; There was a recent episode where the doctor was introduced to the idea that he had been eased into the idea that he is inside a simulataion. Voyager is a simulation; This reeks of the idea that my life has been a simulation, and that there is an escape possible. This escape includes a hunger strike and a "TV on the fuzz" feeling. I am prepared to enact this hunger strike to halt the voices in my head. I've never heard voices in my head until recently. "MODERN MEDICINE" would "diagnose" these voices as "schizophrenia". I am here, typing this, to confirm that schizophrenia is PROBABLY and LIKELY a myth. There is an episode of STAR TREK where they visit a planet called "TALOS IV"; The aliens the crew encounteres on TALOS IV are "telepathic", but they are probably a substitution for the stupid jerk-off "scientists" who found themselves in my presences the day I did an acting job for Playboy. If my suspicions are correct, THEY ARE STILL OBSERVING ME, even though that job was more than 5 years ago. WHY WOULD I BE BEING OBSERVED BY PLAYBOY (a magazine, and now website, with the main purpose of making men jack off when they want them to)?

My deft knowledge of grammar and vocabulary have been a boon to my ability to express myself; in a "No-Win scenario" such as presented by the Kobayashi Maru, aka The Space Captain's Test, those administering this test would certainly try to prove that "Language is just a symptom of not being able to express oneself telepathically.". This is more evidence that there are those among us who have found a way to attune their minds to connect, only telepathically, with us. In a universe as expansive as this one, there are most certainly those who would attempt to thwart logic with "possibility".

There was an instance where I was smoking marijuana aka weed, aka pot aka grass aka ganja aka herb, every day for a period of 7 years. In that time I have determined that those who have wished to REVERSE my sexuality, have failed.

The faggots aka gay men, who have surrounded me at almost every turn, have failed in their attempts to get me to want to have sex with a man. Not only do I not want to have sex with a man, I don't want to have sex with any man; Those who are observing would postulate "But YOU are a man...what does THAT MEAN?" Nothing. You are reading the thoughts of a man who is of sound mind. I ONLY WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH WOMEN I'M ATTRACTED TO! To those "grammar nazis" reading this and shoving images infront of my almost certainly held-open eyes, even when I am closing my eyelids, I say "FUCK OFF" aka "KILL YOURSELVES" aka "Your attempts to get me to "appreciate" the idea that sex with a man is "simply an experiment"; Those observing would also say "Think of it as an experience" or "Think of it as an ACHIEVEMENT in a VIDEO GAME".

Shut up; To the voices who've been yelling at me from far away, or up close in an Advanced Market Analytics attempt to steal some kind of SEO (search engine optimization), SHUT UP. SHUT YOUR MOUTHS, SHUT YOUR THOUGHTS INTO AN "OFF" position, and let me have sex with women. I want to put my hard dick in a vagina, and then another vagina, and then another vagina, and then another vagina, without the assistance of "THE BLUE PILL" aka "Viagra" or "Cialis".

I do not have "ED"; Those observing would think that the absence of an erection, in ANY GIVEN SITUATION, is "Erectile Dysfunction". "Erectile Dysfunction" is another myth perpetrated by "big pharma" aka "big pharmaceutical", to convince those who are "having trouble achieving an erection" are simply "having some trouble". Most of this "trouble" might be attributed to the idea that "butt sex" aka "butt stuff" is also "sex", which it is not.

BUTTS are an exit-only; Those observing would contend that wiping one's butt before or after pooping, is an "entry" or a "gateway". That is false. I have never, in my life, experienced sexual pleasure from wiping my butt. I've experimented in the shower, two or three times, with putting a finger up my butt; The result has never ended in an erection nor a sperm emulsion. This leads to the inevitable conclusion that I DON'T WANT ANYTHING SHOVED UP MY BUTT! STAY AWAY FROM MY ASSHOLE, ASSHOLES! Keep away from my butthole, forever.

If you disagree with any of this, I would simply invite you to actually kill yourselves in front of me. You have been defeated. You are wrong. You are useless.

Two or three of my previous blog posts have pronounced this in other ways; I've felt compelled again to talk about it.

I would still like, very much, to participate in the entertainment industry; I've been participating ever since I wrote that classical piece on the piano when I was very young. I haven't named that classical piece, and I may not name that classical piece. I heard once, from a colleague (and I thought, friend) that what I did on the piano could not be done. Well, I did. It is still one of the best pieces of music I've written and when my mom asked me where that came from, I didn't have a response as to where. I only know that it probably came from deep within my being. I haven't recorded that classical piece, and I may not record that piece; For this blog post, I have said my peace.

When I Get Drunk I Don't Hear The Voices As Much As When I Get High

 Is there some kind of a Battlestar Galactica thing going on here? Why am I getting less interaction than I used to when I used to get high every day? I drank two 12 ounce bottles of Elysian IPA and it does NOT taste good. I got a good drunk feel though from them.

I feel I'm being observed and I feel that those who are observing me are less than enthused that I keep pointing that out.

I also feel that the "Space Captain's Test" aka "The Kobayashi Maru" is involved in what I've been experiencing. I think there's some kind of communist regime attempting to take over and I am here to say that that WON'T HAPPEN; I am still alive and still kicking.

I took my skateboard to the bank and then to a store today and I feel good. I'm listening to some Operation Ivy at the moment, while I'm typing, and I think there's some kind of an attempt to "therapize" me on how I feel about being homeless; I've seen evidence of some drones attempting to connect with me on a sexual level. To those drones I say, "GO TO HELL!"

I've watched all of the seasons of Battlestar Galactica and if there are robots, or zombie robot corpses, trying to connect with me in a sexual way, it WILL NOT HAPPEN. I've learned A LOT from my past experiences in this world and I have to say that I miss my time in both Santa Barbara County and San Diego County; I mentioned Santa Barbara County first because it's where I had my first kiss with a girl that actually mattered. I kissed two girls in Tulsa County while playing a game of "spin-the-bottle" with a pair of twin girls; Sara Roettle and Laura Roettle, we had some fun together, but I think our time together was part of some "Space Captain's Test" to make sure whether or not that I'm straight; I'm only attracted to women, that is to say those who were born female and have all of the reproductive organs to bear children in "the old-fashioned way". Sara and Laura, I think your parents might have been experimenting with your sexual organs when you were very young and I am sorry to say that I didn't feel anyting sexual when we kissed when we were ten years old.

Jenee Smith, if you see this some how, I felt a sexual awakening when we kissed on the bus ride home from the 8th grade field trip to Sacramento and San Fransisco. We played "Truth Or Dare" on the way back to Orcutt Junior High School in 1998; I chose "DARE" a couple times. I'd secretly hoped that Sabrina Peterson would dare me to kiss her, but she dared me to make out with Brooke Longest. I made out with her, but she felt like some kind of a "Mars Attacks" alien who was wondering what sexuality was actually like; Jenee, you kissed me after that dare and it was incredible. I hope you've been trying to connect with me again, because I hope to connect with you again in the same way (plus sex).

I feel, somehow, that situation was attempted to be recreated; Heather Barrere, if YOU see this somehow...is there some way that you and Jenee are connected? I remember Heather mounting me, among a group of friends, pushing on my chest and contesting the way I laugh. You pushed on my chest and cleared an airway I didn't know had been blocked and, all I could think the whole time was "If we weren't surrouned by a 'group of friends' right now we would tear each other's clothes off and start fucking. Jenee, I feel like you and I and Heather could have a threesome and it wouldn't matter who got my dick in their pussy first, but that the three of us would have amazing sex and sleep after and have sex again and sleep again and we'd make it work.

There are SO MANY other women with whom I've had the same feeling.

I've previously blogged about a pizza place where I created the best pizza I've ever tasted and if Brooke Winrow sees this, somehow, I think you and I would have amazing sex. I remember talking with you and your friend Ariel about "bowling", and that was a replacement for making out. Brooke, I felt something great when we spent time together but you were too young, legally, for us to date. I was 22 and you were 14. Now I'm 40 and you're 32 or 33. If you see this, somehow, contact me; That goes for Jenee and Heather too.

If you're going to contact me, start with a comment to this blog post; Rachel, Emylee, Rachel, Coryne, Ciera, Jessica, you're also included in this. I think there could be an amazing orgy of sex and personality, without any porn connection, between us.

I think there are a grip of famous women who have felt the possibility of the same thing with me, in some sort of a "bigger than the Playboy Mansion" relationship. Francesca, Julia, Julianna, among so many other girls...I think we could all have something special.

Note that I haven't mentioned any of the famous women I've been attracted to through the years; some of you I've had sex dreams or sexy dreams with, and I know you know there would be a sexual connection between us as well as a personality connection.

Love can exist without lust; Without lust, love is NOT ENOUGH to have a sexual relationship. If ANY "BEING" reading this feels that there "MAYBE COULD BE A CHANCE..." but you're a MALE (meaning you have a penis and balls or one ball)...it's NOT GOING TO HAPPEN. If you are a male and had a "sex-change operation"...it's NOT GOING TO HAPPEN.

Friendship is possible...if you're a male (or had a sex-change operation) and you've never thought of a sexual relationship with me...possibly. This feels like a break-up letter to those with whom I've never considered us as "a thing" or "seeing each other".

There are some I don't need to mention; I've heard your voices in my head, somehow, and I wish you would shut off your recording equipment and kill yourselves.

If this is a "The Fall Of The House Of Usher" story, then it is; It's NOT RELATED TO THE NETFLIX SERIES...I'm referencing the Vincent Price movie from 1960, based on the book by Edgar Allen Poe. If there have been porn actresses, based on any of the members of that family, you're going to have to kill yourselves or out yourselves as having been pranking me and you will have to apologize for your continued advances; If there have been actresses or porn actresses, who have been compelled to advance on me "as a joke" but you've since found a potential sex thing with me, let me know in the comments section.

"MOQBOY" aka "moqboy" was a pseudonym I chose after I made a SEEMINGLY HARMLESS spelling joke back in Orcutt Junior High School when I was constantly being asked "How do you spell..." in the halls; It occurs to me that this was also probably a joke to reference how I misspelled "GOOFY" in a 2nd grade Spelling Bee when I lived in Tulsa, Oklahoma. HOW WOULD YOU POSSIBLY KNOW THAT I MISSPELLED THAT WORD IN 2nd GRADE IF I WAS LIVING ACROSS THE COUNTRY?! Cylons?! Aliens?! Chuckle-fuckers?! LAUGHING AT, OR WITH, SOMEONE IS NOT ENOUGH TO JUSTIFY A SEXUAL RELATIONSHIP! (I just heard a voice say "You're dead!"). I think that voice was eminating from Utah or East Hollywood. SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE! KILL YOURSELF! GO AWAY FOREVER! I AM NOT KIDDING!

I feel good about what I've typed here, while drunk; I keep picturing that scene from Rick And Morty when Rick kills everyone in the "Council Of Ricks" and keeps killing everyone who approaches him while he's trying to get back to his wife; I've been married, ONCE. I feel NOTHING for KAITLIN MURPHY NELSON. I never think about her. I've only ever known her as a HER, and (looking back) I think she tried to give me TWO CLUES as to who she "USED TO BE", meaning she's a trans freak-of-nature and should kill herself. I also never think about "CHEVON MEDBIN"...another freak that "caught me" while I was getting high EVERY DAY for 7 years!

If I've missed anyone, tell me in the comments and I'll remind you that we have a connection and sex could happen between us, or I'll tell you to kill yourself.

If you'd like to tip me for my writing(s), ask me in the comments section; If you have something in mind that doesn't intersect with direct payment through apps and sending cash and money orders, ASK ME in the comments section.