Whomst?

They idiotbagged out again, locked an account again, and genuinely, we're so late in the game, I don't care. They are all. Fucked.

Corban is fucked. Koda is fucked. Every piece of shit gobbling up Soros money for the epstein network harassment squad, fucked. Every person complicit. Fucked.

I DO hope Shea has figured it out to get that turned around. Because a lot of motherfuckers are about to start exploding. Including fandomites. To name a few likely candidates, Sam and Jenn top the list.

Speaking of list toppers, our Problems from The Keep expanded to include not just Koda, Corban, but Iria/Skittles, Tim/Ave, and a few others like Jai. I'm unclear which Janus is really involved- Janus, from the Abomination Brotherhood many of these others were literally in, or Janice, who's daddy, Claude, was named after. Kinda like Conti has become a brand of ransomware, and not Ferous or Chiara or Draeval's last name.

Pretty much every furry in Corban's server. Fucked.

Everyone like Jenn who had a job at the Department of Doesn't Exist like all Jeffrey's best friends. Fucked.

What really kicks it is what they got my account on was saying "RACEBAIT THIS, BITCH" to Iria/Skittles. But the thing is, the Skittles thing was being posted by a white pedobait core account like Emily chatting up all the others' proxies and posting that she was ragebaiting white boys with black girl shit and they kept texting "skittles" "skittles" "skittles" half as a slur half as a name as their own in joke. And for those who don't know, that's a bad name for black prostitutes, and I had doubled back to check with John, and sure enough Iria used to at least claim to be black and did used to act like that, so yeah, racebait this, you white bitch with your racist ass joke name?

A few days ago, there were 148 skynet admins roaming free.

As of my last update, there were 117. And probably less now.

So. Those numbers. Can be run.

And I have Alex Soros' brainchip's IP address.

Accounts may pass away, but the server racks you handed to me that are posted onto Elon's government-integrated servers, which are about to be subpoena'ed into several international investigations, will never pass away.

Or the 20,000 odd connection points at work I was harassed with that they were becoming more and more transparent about thinking nobody could catch them, that the feds have been capturing but can't move on internationally, but are also about to be summoned into the international courts now. With all those connection points and ability to see past their proxies like this and web them together.

Also you people, chasing my blog, probably also mostly fucked

Hi Ave. In fucking. Toronto. And your huuuuuuuge inability to cope with rejection.

The real plot twist is that this is a 25 year old crashout from a rejected satanic obese pedophile. He even kinda fucked up on his arguments against it, which he definitely felt the need to start arguing after they accidentally left his dogshit real name everywhere as a joke.

It's a dude that I literally wouldn't cyber decades ago that was like, 4 years older than me, about a 14/18 ish gap, give or take, 14/19, something like that. He called us Girlfriend and Boyfriend and that was very charming to a 14 year old impressed by the big satanist teenadult that began trying to convince me away to canada and never got cybered.

"I don't like boys or trans boys!" That's great, that's why you've crashed out, then, because I'd never sleep with you, digitally, because I would only write boys, because I'm trans and didn't have a word for that yet, and didn't run away to you, and now you're here, up my asshole almost 25 years later "25 years ago I would have been studying calculus!" no, that's the correct fucking timeline.

And when I say obese, I mean, obese. He made Shea's porker period look skinny. Snoring while sitting up awake type shit. 500 lbs type shit.

Conveniently, that seems to be a running theme of names coming back up. Kevin, mentioned a great many times through this as warpedly somehow possibly related to Sam- could be any kevin, but you know, that group also had a 500 lb vertical snoring Kevin that managed to make my life hell too.

Alright, even have to type myself through this to remember squarely.

My mother told me several stories in my youth, and I also simply remembered others that shocked her.

My earliest memories were sitting in a purple rubbermaid tub in a divided sink in a yellow tinted kitchen, with a window overlooking a large pool in a fenced in yard. I remembered it from strange, third person perspective even, as if looking over my mother's shoulder, at myself, and out the window. When I told my mother that when I was 13, she looked shocked. How do you remember that? I stopped bathing you in the sink before you were half a year old, and she didn't have that house long.

Why didn't we have the house long? Well, it was told to me when I was like, a kid, so the details are sort of hazy but something about dad not being entirely honest, bad debts, or signing it out from under her somehow. All I know is that she fled to Chicago around then.

But other incidents happened in California before she left- once, at a church, a man in a suit literally tried to walk up and walk off with my carrier while she went up to confessional, or whatever. Another time, only a few weeks before the house incident, she had another strange encounter with a man in a suit who walked up, looked at my dad, warned he was going to lose his family got down prostrate on the ground praying after dad walked off, and had a strange conversation with my mother.

After the praying on the ground bit, she asked him, "where do you go to church?" and he pointed at the local remote mountain, "That's where I go to church." But nobody lives up there, there's nothing there. That's where I go to church. And he just ultimately unremarkably left.

When the house was taken, my mom was with friends. My mom, always a bit psychic, hence her involvement in the Gateway projects (along with further pursuing her investigations from her shredded Katharine the Great Book, which she won the suit for the year I was born), got a vision of someone in her house.

She says she told her friends, and panicked trying to call the house. "Deborah, if someone broke into your house, they won't answer!" then they did. And it was collections, basically, or that's how it was explained to me.

And then we ran. Until the VA came calling.

Thing is at that same time, dad did Lose His Family. Not just me, and mom.

Within the year before and after my birth, everyone in dad's family died. I mean like, everybody. There's like, three generations of Davises that all dropped dead in a 2-3 year period all at once.

My germanic and norwegian father was adopted by Russian jews and fits the genetic markers for their various genetic targets for "alien" garbage (angelic/demonic horse shit, you people will EVENTUALLY understand, like trying to bring back nephilim or gods or Jesus 2.0 to control)- but see, the ones that don't work out turn into organ harvesting candidates, more or less. You'll eventually figure out where those parts are going. Someone Needed To Become Whole.

Anyway. Katharine The Great, by Deborah Davis. Per Roger stone, we're about to revisit what happened with Nixon, how they're doing it to Trump, and Trump even fixing his own regrets about the Rosenbergs, that my mother wrote about all those years ago.

Just a reminder, we've had the UFO technology since Operation Paperclip. The only Aliens around are the ones being deported. We're the aliens.

But the house.

Mom did say one thing I remember.

Someone forged her signature on something.

My my.

I've raised you an equivalent fortune in error before, haven't I.

Alex.

Alexxxxxx. In frankfurt.