fetaman.com

Brinesanity – an abide jar, filled with all the fuqs given.

By

Is it your league game?

There was an email blast from Tilray that was recently shared in a private capacity in a trusted community that has my attention. The medical marijuana community in fact. Tilray (*click for link) is an LP here in Canada, that included the likes of a Master Kush in their grow. An LP, is a Licensed Producer, and you can no doubt find more than enough information about the current situation in Canada. In this case, a newly appointed, and previously tenured group, joined forces and Tilray became the shining example of ‘functional’ systems. They also had a strain named Master Kush which was an “incredible 29%”, and that absolutely sold out in less than a few hours. This strain was reported to be 29%, and that can be a reasonable assumption given the ability for Tilray to test, and the fact that yes, they have been to date Canadian; but moving forward into 2015 you can be assured Privateer Holdings, and the rich-tech billionaires now looking to provide fruit bowls of chronic weed at their yacht parties that is truly ‘owned’ by them, shit will be different. I may stand tall beside some of the finest people I have had the pleasure of knowing in the organization, and can only hope their namesake is as royal as the intentions of the family which may have provided some more appropriate guidance for such an early leader. Careful, say the Greeks. Those that come early, are first to be wiped clean in the rolling histories of political correctness and likes. May not.

The fact that the majority of Tilray “gardens” are still to be sanctioned, approved, and placed into production means that at the very least, patients are looking at Tilray producing real volumes in 18-24 months, and the market is using an abacus to count the days knowing each one is a head start on the hundreds, soon to be thousands of applicants, in Canada alone. Until then, the collective they will spend the first 6 months pacing and watching, the next 6 months collectively tweaking and then maybe have some quality medicine rolled out a couple of times in the following six. That may be 12 months, and bink – hello 2017! What will NYSE or NASDAQ be doing then?

Thank you America, let’s rip up some hoser holes eh?

$14/g for the weed; for the evil grass of the past, that now, being medicinal and driven by the same invisible hands of Adam Smith’s theorists, ghosts and ongoing economic lamentations, is very much a great deal? The “prohibition bomb” cleared out the vaults, and now, the gunslingers be pulling ammo outta’assholes.

Shipping is included (*wink*), but you have to pay tax on the whole kit, and so let’s just say your daily “5 grams” (*pukes, and then tries to laugh through the dripping, drooling saliva and chunks of vomit, tries to utter words but then pukes again – fucking moraines, fields of fuqtarded by choice idiots), sorry daily just had me chuckle, is now $15.82/gram, or daily $79.10.

Incredible eh? That is the entire income for some workers in an entire shift/day…how about the sick?

Most people on disability, fighting for their lives, and truly needing help to fight the hell that is raging in their bodies, some days not even wanting to fight any longer, can not even afford to pay that in a WEEK for their food, and some, over the course of a MONTH may have that much to spend on food.

Mother of God – please let my virgin hatred right now for the machine, the wealthy pricks and diseased fuqranauts that still flaunt the arrogance of a moon landing, energy crises, terrorism thwarting a chained ‘freedom’ and even the fact that currencies can be raped and pillaged while sharing the same ink stained pages of newsprint for the heathens that do not have the interwebz…please let that just let me get back to wondering…

Over the course of a single month, this represents a tab of $2,373 for 5 ounces. 30 days. That is cash, not financed, or pre-tax. After tax, no bullshit; two thousand, three hundred, seventy-three dollars and no pennies, they are not even rounding pegs for nickels much longer.

The average income for an Ontario citizen ranges from a low of a few hundred dollars a week, to a couple of thousand a week. In this link (*http://www.statcan.gc.ca/tables-tableaux/sum-som/l01/cst01/labor93g-eng.htm) you can see, that my small summary chart helps get an appreciation for the “scope” of this cost, and how the cost that can be absorbed by a sector of the employed categories is made up of the very professions society would deem not requiring any reefer substance or good which may, or may not, produce madness.

Like Bob Marley’s name being used to promote a brand of “real ganja”; shit has gotten beyond real. We have a wet behind the ears opponent, to an asshole of huge proportions thinking he can keep the west on the trail as the rest of us wait by the rest stop. Fuck, is that the Reform party boosting the Conservative party Winnebago’s? Preston smoking some of Harper’s cone? Honk on bo-bo?

*pukes*

Category Weekly Avg – Gross Monthly Avg – Gross After tax – Net 65 Monthly MK (*5g/day) % of Avg/Month*N65

Available

Utilities 1,959.40 $7,837 $5,094 $2,373 47% $2,721
Mining, quarrying, and oil and gas extraction 1,874.77 $7,499 $4,874 $2,373 49% $2,501
Professional, scientific and technical services 1,290.57 $5,162 $3,355 $2,373 71% $982
Administrative and support, waste management and remediation services 696.17 $2,784 $1,810 $2,373 131% ($563)
Arts, entertainment and recreation 595.65 $2,382 $1,548 $2,373 153% ($825)
Accommodation and food services 361.34 $1,445 $939 $2,373 252% ($1,434)

*Categrory descriptions, they are cut and paste from the very government site(s) you can look at. These are Ontario numbers. Never let it be said The Machine did not advise the wise, lies or eyes, as it’s all just bound for demised sighs.

**No I did not forget the dollar sign in the column, it is that way to illustrate how it appears “odd” when so desensitized to the dollar sign, that magic marker of value to all those that think it matters.

 

What is very interesting is the order with which the whole chart above, pulls out a fascinating fact. Management of companies and enterprises has an average, October/2014 weekly income of $1,256.64. Again, this is per a 2014-12-12 edited, CANSIM 281-0063, Statistics Canada table. Live and direct from the Machine. This category is important, as it is just behind “professionals”, who interestingly enough lag the utility and energy ‘grunts’; and is then followed by, pardon me if I may sound fucked on this one, but followed by the glorious society improving Public Administrators. This hallowed group of Einstein’s offspring, direct heirs to his intelligence in urban planning, justice and street vendor/garage sale permit masters of the Parking Ticket Realm, shall be paid $1,244.06.

This is incredible.

Bureaucrats, somehow, that is all I can think. Please, do not think I shall harp on the arguements of the Table Masters that speak of police, and fire and all those people also fall into this category. Well, then let us make another category Table Masters. Let us be clear, and then we can see.

Do you really think, that even those people above, are in a position to devote 50% of their income, to pay for just THIS ONE SINGLE TYPE of medication?

How about those at the bottom of the chart? Do they not deserve access to the same medication, the same quality and standards? Will the government health programs not be covering these expenses? Surely, then there shall be no issue if I am audited, and hold my pockets empty and truly speak the words of poverty, for there is nothing left. Usurp my land, my money and my time, but never my dignity.

What the fuck?

How many times, and in how many forms are we paying taxes? Where is there any relief from having to pay someone for the air I breathe, the water I seek and the ability to try to provide for my own standard of a life? How the fuck did we get here? Letting the water fall, into the blue again…once in a lifetime, same as it ever was…

You want to talk about the power of compounding numbers? The fact the government can now control so much more of the “supply” by cutting back the permits, and the financial environment can kill the last hopes and dreams of any producer, even now, knowing the death toll is in the fact that one can not rush time or nature. The old supplies are dead, and in order to catch up, there will be pain, fasting and more droughts.

Parched lips can barely stand the sight of water, let alone hold the resolve to know the day may never come to taste of Gaia again.
Find the magic, and then hold it.
Preserve it in a jar, and pay the price to the Table Masters.
Canada has the West to thank for oil and bud.
They deserve all the monies and the base, bel0ngz 2dem.

You wonder why the rich get richer, and the poor still swim in the urine of the dogs the rich have to ensure the streets are filled with urine and feces, so the poor can swim in that and never bother with the rich…do you?

Cause the collective we is a bunch of monkeys trying to type Shakespeare, in every language, using only their belly buttons, and while doing so, trying to fit a Eureka vacuum into the oven door opening. This may seem off enough, but it is nothing next to the North Korean men dressed in Colonel Sanders outfits painting the walls with some SPAMcrylic latex that is sure to pacify.

Cause all the people that are sitting back right now, and able to ‘provide’ for themselves are doing so with hook, nook, book and a good look over the shoulder very frequently, hoping that parent does not die, or the party is over. No one is going to care then, and when you can not afford to even pay for your food, let alone get your critical medicine, what will happen to the parody magazines in France, and the cultures that think painting a cartoon makes it less offensive to place religious figures at the end of bad jokes, or rancid humor? Maybe there is more to the commentary than meets the eye…that kind of cause?

What about the cuzz, as in cuzz’in you best be fuckn’ witch me in the following table; the one below that was snapped from the workbook and is my own intellectual property. Welcome to noodle the numbers, they are all within range, and they all speak to the power of compounding rice.

The challenge is making sure you are on the right side of the compounding, and you have a place to ensure you speak no, hear no, and see no knievel.

So, we will start along the path of the Status Quo.

A friendly path they say, just make sure to not stray outside of the mortgage constraints of the walk on the side. This is similar to a walk on part in a war, lead role in a cage according to Floyd. This is the land of candy mountain, and sugary treats. Where Charlie is a unicorn, with a home that consumes 30% of his cash, if not 45%+, but we will be cool and believe Charlie can keep his shit together. There is some food, about 25%, and then some clothing and missinlanesforus stuffs for maybe another 25%. Seems pretty clean.

So the “real” disposable income for “health” or the Reefer Madness prescription is the remaining 20%. Assuming there is anything left that can be spent there. If not, you have to choose.

Food, or medicine; a choice any god, being, spirit or belief would call on a normal person to choose. Fuck the habitat or shelter, food follows water, then joy. We can live in the wild honey, just you and I. Love will feed us, it will keep us healthy.

All of this, while a half a billion dollar valuation is supported by another $75,000,000 of Series B capital from the same Thiel’s fund, a Founders Fund no less. According to the same sources referenced above, and to use the same numbers and projections accordingly, please note:

“Privateer is already generating meaningful revenue, although the company is not profitable. In 2014 it expects to generate nearly $11 million in net revenue, up from $1.2 million in 2013. Most of that revenue (60% to 70%) is generated by Lafitte Ventures, and the rest is from Leafly. Privateer expects to reach profitability and generate $111 million in 2015 and $440 million in 2016.”

So Charlie, is not blessed enough to pull oil or minerals from the ground, nor market them to those that find power and valuable energies from within, hell, he only wishes he could be a lowly doctor or professional in a category that is so open for manipulation through obscurity. No, Charlie is an accommodation Jedi. Warrior of the traveller’s ways, and with all the ways known to man embedded within his hospitable grasp, he claims to earn the terrible wage published by the Machine. Indeed, his taxable income is slightly higher than the number in the chart, but still less than $1000.

A nice round number it seems, to move forward now with a couple of quick jabs.

Slices, small licks that one would welcome knowing become scars across the brows of the minions fisting onion rings in the name of sexual promiscuity for all lards, greases and lubricants that hide in the shadows of YouTube cookies and pingbacks.

So, you bet.

Charlie has $200 to purchase his medicine, for the whole month.

That is not weekly, that is the whole month. If he can maximize his volume, he may be able to buy as much as 1 oz. Interesting, that to do that, he would have to get the 28 grams at $7. A figure that is thrown around as illustrative of how free people really can vote, and pick cotton, and make railways. Don’t you see?

What is missing, is that it is less than the 5 grams a day that were prescribed to help Charlie function. It seems to be in the same range as the 20% available in the equation used above. It is said, that when the holy fathers gathered in the Vatican, you know, not sexist or color blind whatsoever that group, when all the white holy fathers gathered to seek the divine signals for the next pontiff, they were met along the way with the same divine logic distilled by the pubs of content visited so frequently, songs sung by the piano man in mood for melody. Making things all right.

It does not compute.
It does not work.

The numbers are horrific, and we can simply say, that to survive – Charlie had to start borrowing some money. He had to borrow twice as much as he made every month, just to live at his current standard. That was assuming he would be able to find a place, where he could try to squeak out his interest payment. Sacrifice some milk, avoid the vegetables, eat the odd napkin or bowl of ice cubes as a snack. He no longer had his family, or his siblings. His friends had all left to live more fantastic lives in the alternate reality. Pokes, and likes and pictures of the greatest ass thanks to a genuinely disturbing invention, the Ass-Selfie Extension Stick w/Flash.

People are fucked.

The world is falling apart, and the day to day quality of life has been gutted for profit. Everyone’s a prophet Mohammed, je mais souviens…

Charlie thinks each month, the following month will be better. He remains an optimist, because he can actually recover next month. Something better will happen.

Sorry Charlie, you are about to see why the only good thing that can happen is a fast, steep fall or hollow point by chance and good fortune.

Charlie & Gus 1

You dig?

Charlie & Gus 2

It is all about making the money, funny.

Charlie & Gus 3

I know for a fact, unless you dig the cowboy hat, the ‘stache and…fuck it, may as well now swear so much…

Charlie & Gus 4

So if I smoke for one year, to be well; that means I spend the next 12 years in fiscal Hell? So the amount of time to earn a post-secondary degree will equate to 5 decades of rot? Well, the be about the same numbers The Machine affirmed.

Charlie & Gus 5

Just not real, not a chance of real.

Still.
They wait.

We don’t.

We; just bowl.
This is a league game.
So fuck their rules.

Roll.

*abide*

By

Committed. Abide.

Just another day, and to be sure, it is.

One that I am grateful for having lived, in fact, there is more to that “statement” than meets the naked eye; fawn too a meadow of imagined vines climbing towards the love of frothy hope. Gates to a heaven, taxed with sins.

Heaven is spelt with a silent capital U.

Think about it.

Upon a wooded row, there stood a small insect that appeared. It asking for directions on how to reach the road he asked for. He would not accept my answer, nor the call to my trusted best friend over and over again.

Funny how so many fools suffer the Websters-WebMD Fuqtard misconception that Abide is a passive state, simply.

Fondue logic dripping down the spine, usually is a bad sign about the quality of the company you keep.

Feel your spine.

Do not move, no scratching.

Feel.

Alive.

Now close your eyes.
Forever, ok?

Yes, if I was asked to, but my truest love and companion would be there in all of the trillions of seconds I sense she is, and yes.

Yes, I would.
I will.

Wood, you…will do, and I am grateful for you. I have walked across a plane fertilized, stones committing to Semedori and trees remain grateful for the glancing winds of antique trails. Time, the tyrant who is mute, ability surrendered by a will Kings of Kings profess, serpents to the works that all fall, never as mighty as a despair. (*oz link)

Visage, voyage, voussoir castings left for those still eager to find a meaning litter the sacred corners of the cortex and dolomite steeples.

Strike for a match,
strike for a game.
Strike for the rights,
professed by the sane.

Sure, you provide the back, I will strike the purple tip, cuticle of a circumcision reefed with sulfur. The deeper the lick, the deeper the depth of each vertebrae lodged.

Where?

Oh, tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you Tomorrow.

You know, just a day away.

*abide*

hbdf.c18mtPi

By

The Cost of the Corn on my Cob has Gone up.

Time, more than a magazine. Smart apes, and strainers with transmissions.

Time, more than a magazine. Smart apes, and strainers with transmissions. It was just a photo that spoke of an age when there was a scent of change. It smelled so clean, and wonderful. The programs had told us so, this was how one would wake up and live. This was emancipation from slavery. They believed. Duplicity, delicious in this proLean (c) smoothie. *changes channel, opinion sound, dilates pupils, gulps senses*

I recently had to undergo some review of my health and my diet as of late, as some of the resulting issues post cancer(s) are non-terminal. Sure, they also mean they cannot be considered “life ending” – but that is all about how you define life, and the quality of it. Consider the loss of your vision, devoid of the current “life” you see. Is that a loss of life? A disability? Something you think you can overcome?

I have made that mistake in the past, and realize people (a) have limited intelligence to be able to comprehend context unless it is spelled out to them explicitly, and (b) most are fucking gossip cunts, that have to feed off the bullshit they create, and then spread it so their field can creep what they flow.

Feel free to look around, in fact, please do. Then make sure you inquire or inspire, but light the fire and bask in the glow of whatever flame is before you, hot or cold.

I know one thing, that the cost of “shit” is just fucking unreal when you consider a whole bunch of the most common elements, and somehow people continue to think they are “rich” and “have” more than in the past, and I have to smirk, I really do.

So I made a list, of some of the most common items I remember as a child and then created a table which listed them, my memory of them as a “cost” (*for the soon to be haters, please fuck off if you expect full blown reference back tracks to what the actuals were, fuck. I remember getting 2 dozen corncob in my rural “hood” or thereabouts, and that shit was a buck. If you can’t remember that, or never experienced it, well whatever, make your own table) and what that means per unit.

So, as an example let us consider a corn example. Back in the 70’s, as children travelling to the 8 tracks the old man wanted to turn up, we would stop roadside and get this massive paper bag of them for $1.00. The means, there were 24 cobs/ears (*yes, often more with the quick hands of a slick parent I am sure) or about $0.04/each. There was not marketed “ethanol” back then, unless it involved some kind of fermented inebriant that fuelled a hard days work trying to feed people who really did not appreciate how much more complex food, the politics of it, the inclusion of the “machine policy” within the profit margins and of course, the overall devastating changes that would come to occur with humankind and the world we occupy.

A snap of the Google fingers, and www.usinflationcalculator.com allows us to calculate that over the course of a number of years, backwards or forwards. Nice. Simple, and I do not want to get into the debate of how they calculate that rate, and if they are appropriately illustrating a cumulative rate of inflation or not. If you got the picture about the rate of inflation is not really discussing the type of clouds some may thing of cumulusly or humilisly.

*sip

Simply put, if you look at the cumulative inflation over two periods, there are going to be a variety of factors, but just create your own list like I had referenced above and play with some shit you remembered as a child. You will be fucking amazed. If I had shown you a list, you would not be able to emotionally relate to the findings on your own. If you brain functions in a visual, and empirical manner – the math is just astounding.

But the machine says there is a different math, so I insist.

I bought, 3 ears of corn the other day for $1.99 at an Asian grocery/vegetable store. They are known to have the lowest prices, and perhaps not the best decor and stuff at times, but other times and in season, great options relative to the $3.99 price I would pay at the super premium locations that demand certain auxiliary and complimentary assets allow entrance.

*no comment*

Here is where it gets confusing for most.

If I simply multiply the current cost of the low end, with $2/3 ears of corn, so $8 for a dozen? Or if it is the Uber-Corn, that is $16 for the dozen – right? Or $16/$32 for that same two dozen. So pull off to the side of the road, and now hand that dude a cool $35 bucks, cause you got to make sure the farmer is tipped.

But, no – you have tax now – so please factor that in accordingly in life, but here, let’s just keep it flat for right now.

How does that $16.00 not look anywhere near the same 4:1 ratio that www.usinflationcalculator.com put in for a 1974-2013 spread? When we plugged $1.00 into the calculator, it quickly burped that we would pay $4.72 for the same product, and the cumulative rate of inflation amounted to 371.1%.

Someone pass some more alcohol intelligence to the folks chirping about the use of marijuana, ’cause I can pretty much assure you most of the abiders or the gliders are in the full effect of understanding right about now.

I wonder if it has anything to do with math?

Don’t ask me – cheese can’t do math. Or spell. Or care.

*context smirk* Gus is around, maybe this is Gus. There are going to be a handful of people that read the site, and keep in touch via Twitter, and that believe, that are going to get a sneak peak at an inside tip for the book, likely within this week. Send out an email to me here at the site, or you can T/RT this posting with a #GusAbides tag, and consider that a belief grenade, you know, an abide flare of sorts. *shakes Fetaglobe*

But it seems to me, that $0.04 is what got an ear back then. Now, that same ear can cost as much as $1.33, or thereabouts. Is that how they got 371.7%? Missing something.

*headscratch*

Pretty sure I am not, but play along – it can get even “funner”.

Like remembering a drunk father who made sure to insist that $20 was used to buy his carton of smokes and a 24 of Molson. Yeah, hope they serve beer in hell old man.

I know one thing. When you plug in $20, there is no fucking way that $94.33 is going to cover the cost of a carton of smokes, let alone the case of beer with it. What is interesting is the rate of inflation there, the “slower” crawl that seems to jump out at me.

I mean, over those same years the cost to purchase has not gone as ballistic as food or groceries, but whenever we begin to discuss food, and how families can survive, or the quality of the food they are trying to survive on, some rich asshole comes wandering in and insists anyone can eat well.

All they have to know is what inflation means, and ensure the trust fund is handled by the right accountants, at the right time – right?

After all, intergenerational wealth is just not worth what it used to be.

Unless you still collect the stamps, and not use them, or their new forms.

This message sponsored by some complex origami for most.

For others, it is just another series of folds on the way.

*abide*

By

Forgive me. I have sinned.

Our Elites, are in tweet heaven, 
Holy is Their Name;
Their kingdom’s cum,
 your wills begets some,

on Favstar as it is in your “heaven.”
Elites, serve us this day your daily head,
and Big Mac us your puns, 
so we forgive the fuqtards who sin against us;
and lead me not in masturbation,
 but lever my meat cause I’m evil.
Amen.

I know you are cut of the cloth that has never done such things, oh wise monk of Twitter, with your sage drive-thru cloak and pontificated presence in the Elite Lords stewardship, but I stand here before you with one hope.

The abstinence that will be fed to purge my soul of the vile tribulations that you walked, and I know of the hardship that you had gone through – to have had to walk through the valley of the Chiseled Followback clan, and survived – all in a testament to the star piles left beside the camel dung of your sage words and creative sadness, lest not forget the monotonous tones of your identity and your characters in Jesus Christ, Superstarbang – a miracle. I can only be so blessed to know one day I may be able to tweet about what I ate, and inspire another to smile with my misery over the battery remote, please forgive me for what I am about to reveal.

Revile me.

I sought the Jezebel, a woman that Mary Mandolin had strummed singing sweet songs of memories pure and true, it was her message to me and I fell to her wails. I wanted to be like you oh great monk of the perish.

I had to kiss her, Tweetadder. Her twitter strategy…so…flawless. Fair. So just. So “elite”.

She was so lovely there. Glistening in the moonlight, the shadow that had been cast by your own forefathers. Perhaps even those of the renowned Twitteratti, slipping from character to character to replace the chalice from their library years, with a hope that no one can hear that stalk fall or the sirens calls heated by the glorious gasps of dragons I am assured you have tamed, now that you have left them out of those dungeons.

The forest is such a wild place for a wizard. You know, or at least one of your identities knows. Of this, be sure.

I should not have been tempted, but the link. It seemed so real. So true, it must have been a real person there, gifted in the craft they speak so much of being able to create. The bosoms were grand, they were everywhere – she had turned into a nipple Medusa. I was not able to escape her clever ways, and appealing musk. The site before me was horrific, I had thought, that yes, if I had made it to the mountain I would be well armed to move forward and avoid her calls.

But those nipples…below knee…baloney…delirious joy…freedom.

Oh but wise sage, those nipples, how they turned into aureole serpents of flesh tones promised with the taste of the positions to come. The format kingdom, for but a moment to see what she really had in store for me, not knowing it was just the gateway.

She leaned in, and whispered.

“See who is not following you.”

It was glorious.

Like something I had never seen before.

She was right.

It was the gateway.

And this, this is my satchel.

Each filled with a real story, and real experience.

Each letter, each stroke counted, known.

The money shots, the lucky shots, the buck shots, hot shots, shit shots, big shots, bot shots…

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the hord:
Tramps of vintage oak where the grapes of wrath are stored;
I have loosed the feta lightning of tsunami swift brine words:
Girthy souvlaki dong.

“Glory, glory, hallelujah!”

Yes, I had seen what her power was.

And the patterns all became so clear.

I was hooked.

It had all started with the one simple filter application.

Such sexy lingerie, such a ubiquitous smirk…how did you do it, how did you resist the temptation? Tell me.

You*: “Forefathers of the Chiseled Followback clan, the Favstar Genitalliarattii, had tried to survive in the world, and hoped they could hide in their secret world, but they had to mutate, and begin to preserve their word on the dried parchment of elk cock. It was a horrible time, but they survived. Merely on the bones and fluids of their own kind, shoving star, after star, after worthless star – no nutritional value in those virtual mitzvah’s. Some said it was Zeus himself that had no value, but we are not want here to decide if we should deconstruct the glorious essence of their choices, so much as to agree.”

Yes, forgive me, a dirty efficiency whore looking to be more effective in marketing my book about funny shit, and entertaining, never begging for sympathy despite a semi-private survival of cancer, or hoping that one would simply donate, but offering words in fair exchange for entertainment not constrained by Google ads and horrible pupil killing dissentry and disgusting cardboard entertainment about another cat being walked by a fictional owner, or another flat dissertation on the meaning of love and why it will kill all your dreams, so just listen to your Smith’s cassette and you will figure out now came sooner than you thought  – forgive m…

You*: “The fools you suffer on Twitter are of your own making. It is merely your imagination, and want for some kind of excitement, or a need to fill that void, with some kind of creativity. Some of the animals in the forest, are vile and nasty, and are still part of it. Some are whores and suckers of meat sticks their children and wives are oblivious to, but know this. They have a role, and so you can allow them to do what they wish, but protect yourself from them by using more tools. Being aware of who and what they are, before they can attempt to get into your mind. Do not be fearful of their lack of cackles, or their support. You do not need it. Please read the piece of paper you can take with you, and post of it on your website. Inform the people of the world, that they exist. Those that have whored themselves out for number, and with no creativity and action, but thinking they can now control you. Mankind, will never advance beyond the state of Twitter, if we do not stay the course.”

Sancte redemptor scriptor, fides vestra

Fides est nobis creativum winners,
Nunc et in miseria vestri, ad iustitiam.
Futuis iudicium vestrum, quod suus ‘valor est vilis mihi.
Mea vita est, intellectus meus.
Ego in harena quisquam.

*abide*

*please read this section out loud while reading it. If you do not read it, I will not be able to hear you. As such, please go back, and read it again loud, and I will get back to you when I can. If you don’t eat your meat, how do you expect to get any pudding? You can’t get any pudding, if you don’t eat the meat.

**contact is imminent as a matter of choice, not fate.

By

1-800-SNAP-PEA

Pus Removal Associates, Discrete Attendance.

The name was kind of hard to come up with.

After all, the acronym could be seen to conflict with a certain brand and all of it’s puffery and festooned pageantry, and it was very much concerned about image – yeah, guess it too even had swollen sacks of pus in some capacity that had to agree with comfort as well as class.

Had to be classy.

Introducing, SNAP-PEA Inc.

Not many men or women are going to want to be telling their secretaries that they were in no position to have someone pop that monster zit on their back, or on their genitals. Well, everyone in a first world problem way has that kind of access, or we would instantly snap to it and demand that not all have that privilege that you would demand. There are a fuck load of folks in the system that don’t have access to a regular GP, or a dermatologist. Hell, some of the folks that even hear the world dermatologist will instantly either think Ghostbusters or get an image of an gynecologist smiling over the stirrups at them.

The name stuck as soon as it was heard. Not only because it was playful, but also because it was “scientific” without any of the snake oil.

Society needed this service, and in fact the demographic demanded it. With all of the pube shaving bullshit going on, and the need to be able to point to the bean tower at the end of that landing strip – *delicious scream the trendsetters* well who am I to fight the force of the aging population that is staying single longer, if and when choosing to marry doing so after being properly satisfied their social network diversions have not only been cultivated properly, but are accepted as such and blessed with the foresight to recognize she better still love you when you have 3,783,452 followers that hang on your every word.

Don’t worry, she claims she will.
So did he.

It will all change in time, and you will look back at those days with the same want and reflection of the start of the love. When she was willing to snap that pea sized zit on your back and still smile at you, knowing it was just natural. Today, you look at the task as a gross responsibility that has nothing to do with making the world a better place.

Like porn, it has nothing to do with no significant “world” war has ever been started since porn became the diversion that helped angry people around the world find peace and serenity in sexual candy bars in the form of 4 minute clips meant to entice the healthier lifestyle you seek in the bedrooms and dens of pleasure everywhere. But I digress, we are here to talk about Snap-Pea.

When you get that nasty zit, and you can’t ask your spouse – what are going to do?

Go waste time in traffic, the waiting and the sitting in the doctor’s office so they can use a small paste, numb it, pop it with some sterile tool, then wipe/ointment/cover and smile as you depart? Not only is your insurance company going to bill the fuck out of that visit, it is going to cost the company a couple hundred bucks in cash, and another few hundred in lost productivity.

Right?

Exactly – so imagine, a discrete associate of the firm, arriving at your office, home, place of worship, park – wherever you find it convenient, and condusive to the affair, we will be there. A small black briefcase carrying the sterile tools and the needed ointments, arrive and for the small fee of $39.99 we will pop the biggest, nastiest and grossest zit you have.

Anywhere on your body, we are there to help.

It don’t matter how gross it is, or where it is.

We can help take care of that nuisance, and each and every other one is classified into Standard ($4.99) or Boil Class ($9.99) and we will gladly provide them in memorial tube’s that can be Vanilla ($1.99) or Truffle *hand decorated ($4.99). We will happily snap photo’s ($0.99/HD image), hell – we can even take a small video of the event using the micro tri-pod and arrangement stored in the briefcase. Each minute of 720p YouTube ready video is recorded at a mere $2.99 – incredible?

We know, that is why we are here.

Look, the loss of mobility, the inability to focus, that burning tingle on the Dockers slacks just around Snickers time is enough to drive us all mad. Whether you are in a cubicle, or have your own office, we are comfortable performing our friendly service anywhere you are.

If you are not concerned, neither are we. We will send over one of our professionally trained, enthusiastic Snap-Pea associate for your appointment. Special requests start at same/opposing sex associates, and range all the way up to the Pelosi Concrete Ponderosa Cinderella Fantasy Package at $199.99. Custom arrangements can be accommodated but we respectfully request a $500 deposit in order to consult with any relevant legal, financial or farming associates.

Security? No need, all of our associates are fully micro-chipped, and enabled with recording device’s to ensure nothing inappropriate goes on. Really, it is just as much for your good, as ours. As a side note, that law suite, the one room bachelor, regarding the ability for us to use, sell, or present your video to appropriate Stress Transitioning Directors, it was settled. All of our adult entertainment affiliations remain in tact and we promise to use your video in an unedited and fully public manner.

This concept does not have to be “sold” – it is a gem, and although we were offered a chance to appear on the Dragoons Pen, we humbly declined and have begun preparations for our Kickstarter page. All submissions have been made, and we hope that Kickstarter will welcome us with the same desperate look of “help me” we see each and every day from our fellow men and women.

  • Pop that zit, make your day happier
  • Hold open that door, and nail that PPT presentation
  • Cheer in the hockey stands, and jump up and down without fear of stains
  • Shop at Costco in comfort

We are there for you, and we love what we do.
Not only because we do, but because we know how it makes you feel.

1-800-SNAP-PEA

The IPO/President List will be announced shortly, and any and all persons that tweet or forward this article will be eligible to receive a Class Certification Application for that list, we would love to have you aboard.

As an extra benefit, you will be considered Best of Fester class, and will be offered a chance to view our online webinar that provides crisp, clear, refreshing answers as to why this is not only profitable, pleasurable and professional – but it will make the world a place, that is a better place to be in.

Make the world a better place.

Make it a zit free place.

Call 1-800-SNAP-PEA today, and let us show you the way.

*abide*