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.
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