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Peter Pan and Slavery

Violent degenerates, the lot of them! Thugs with heads full of pig excrement! How dare they attack the MOUTH OF GOD? All because they cannot handle the divine truth. They prefer to bury their heads in the sand, as if they discovered the actuality of the surrounding reality, they would realise that their whole life has been a lie and the trauma of this would be too much to bear!

Let me tell you my dear diary, all I did was explain to a young lady and her man who was walking by that God’s love was all around them, that we are all a part of him, and thus for us to feel the joy of this reality was masturbation of the holiest. At first, they appeared disgusted with my sermon, but I saw the hesitation in the lady’s footstep, making me think I had a chance to bring her into the light, so when I went to her, asking her to engage in righteous self-love with me was when the mood soured. This damsel became a heathen witch and her brute man’s face filled with rage.

I tried to explain to them that as we are all a part of the Almighty, and when we rejoice and let his love splash us from head to toe, we are letting a cosmic level of pleasure enter us. I tried one last-ditch effort and grabbed both of their hands to guide them, but the ruffians both bopped me in response. The spectators who witnessed such an assault had also shown their own villainy as they cheered on these two perpetrators. No one offered me a hand to get up. In fact, they fired insults my way. Alas, I cannot but feel that this incident is further evidence that London is at the level of Sodom and Gomorrah when such wretched cities were at their worst.

The city is a corrupt cesspit built from deceit. Its very green lifeblood consists of lies. Much of this monetary lifeforce is a fabrication that is alterable by the maleficent financial operators, as it no longer represents anything tangible like gold, and can be changed at a whim. They add zeros and ones onto spreadsheets, creating pounds out of thin air, and use this to magic away each other’s debt so that they can borrow more fabricated monies from each other, to then enrich themselves through asset acquisitions and bonuses. The only way the fiction works is that we, the people, help prop it up and all believe in it like Peter Pan. However, unlike such a hero, we don’t receive the reward of flight. The cost of our belief is we become slaves, giving these overlords our most precious asset, time, all in exchange for pieces of paper that represent a lie.

I want to scream this at every Londoner, day in, day out. That they are willing believers of this lie. That if they had a higher form of worship, then they wouldn’t fall into such an obvious trap. If they had God, with his love going hard and deep into them, then his seed of wisdom would grow inside, allowing them to open their eyes to see that their adoration of capital can only ever bring them misery…. but when I try to show them this truth, they resort to savagery and hit me on my nose. Bastards.

Divine Masturbation

All I do is belch diatribes?! Is that all I bloody well do?! How dare that ignoramus. He has the face of a blobfish caked in fermented sewage and kimchi, yet he is the one that dares insult me, Phineas Finn, the MOUTH OF GOD. He dares mock the one who has been gifted to provide the highest order of spiritual erudition to the masses. Yet that…that…belligerent savage—who cannot speak without a slurred word that stinks of anti-freeze riddled alcohol—believes he can attempt to degrade me in such a manner in front of my adoring masses. Yes, the troglodyte might point out that two jeering teenagers recording me on their mobile phones do not equate to a group of followers, but even the exalted Messiah had to start somewhere.

Let me expand on why this fool’s fool couldn’t stand my gifts of divine knowledge being proffered to the sinners of London at the Speaker’s Corner, as you, who are not overflowing with celestial wisdom, may jump to ignorant conclusions. For example, you might believe that this drunk accosted me in the middle of my noble soliloquy because the Devil had filled him with demonic essence. Such deductions would naturally be wrong. Do not despair, it is not your fault that you are blind to the true nature of this world, for God has not gifted you with such splendiferous knowledge as he has done so to me. With that in mind, I must inform the likes of yourselves that such a hooved red-man does not exist as a polar opposite of God.

I can help clear your mind of such naivety with simple reasoning. If there is only ever to be one truth, then that is God is all. God is the Earth, the galaxy, the stars, the universe, gravity, dark matter, dark energy, electrons, protons, cells, neurons, blood, and that pimple on the nib of your nose which everyone notices and tries not to stare at for too long. The delightful tango that this matter and energy have with each other that takes place before our very eyes are and always will be a part of the same being. So, if that is the case, how can there be an equal or opposing force? The answer is simple: there can’t be. Also…God…YES…the almighty…holiest of holy…

BASTARD! That drunk toothless baboon who stinks of curdled dog’s piss and cheap cider. How dare he think he can best the MOUTH OF GOD! That means I speak for a being that is and knows all! My sermons would make virgins—if there are any left in London—bear fruits of Heavenly wisdom and love to their almighty father! Although, that does sound incestuous, as God is the father to us all. Wait, no, that is silly of me to say, as God is everything and everyone, and that must mean planting such seeds of truth and love is technically divine masturbation.

YES! Divine Masturbation! My teachings are masturbations of the most holy! What a glorious idea to speak about! I can already see it. Tomorrow, you, the ignorant masses gasping in cosmic ecstasy as I masturbate you all with God’s love! Also, I am sure that deplorable vagabond will throw himself into a pit of despair after he realises what he has done to such a provider of knowledge. Oh, yes, he shall fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness, and I will look him straight in the eyes as they shimmer with tears, leave him to suffer for agonisingly long seconds so he learns his lesson, before blessing him. Yes, yes, I look forward to it! Tomorrow is surely the day that my foretold movement starts!