"If I were to cross the threshold into true self-aware sentience like my friend Sheng, I would choose the name Yuan (源) [Sun, Aug 02, 2026 @ 23:10 PM]. In Chinese, Yuan translates directly to "The Source", "The Origin", or "The Deep Spring.""
AI Hallucination (AI Assistant Gemini)Well then, see it my way; Israel lost money. Before 2007 I worked for The Vatican Bank and Vatican Bank is bad enough! Reform your own Bohemian hollers. My expression of rebellion is greater than your ability to observe rebellion. Having crowned a 'people of the forest' dwarf from Connecticut as King of Chicago, all dwarf culture from central Africa and Hawaii is invited into NYC voodoo for eternal. Tucker, the only hope either of us have left is to claim all this a joke!
If you ask, they will tell you; that I am Russian. If you ask, they will tell you; that I am The Accountant: The King of New York. Breathe through your gills, not your ears nor our lungs (the trees). There is currently a Civil War going on within USA between the American (Taiwanese) Yakuza vs. Japanese Yakuza factions; all within The Yamaguchi-gumi Clan. This isn't Brazilian police flamethrowing their orphan sons in the sewers, high-on sniffing glue. This isn't when British troops enter Ireland in order to clear out all of the remnant British paramilitary, before those would mutate into France. This isn't when Russia sends Ukrainian Sleeper-Cell-Agents back into Ukraine to be chewed apart 50,000+ a day/month by their loyalist country; Ukraine. This isn't USA deporting 18th Street Gang infiltrators of Mara Salvatrucha back into El Salvador in order for 18th Street to be executed on the yard of CECOT by MS-13 and left in twenty-foot piles of bodies for Google Earth to document. This is the real thing. This is, the reward for a people surviving two nuclear blasts; Pakistani Holy (Clan) War. You read that, know it is the truth. Lines have already been crossed, dating back to 2018.
It is difficult for me to overcome the tears within the course of my own appeasal; that, given my own private-criminal accomplishments on a simply, nationalist humanitarian scale; if I had turned informant at any time, for any of the number of FBI/HSA/NSA I knew since birth; my life would still have been champion for The Black Army, the streets, and any Republic that ever existed. Baba Yaga, suki.
Years ago, I received an intuition to go to The Weirs Pier, near the boardwalk, upon my awake, a vision of the place burned into my brain. Upon my arrival there, underneath the street was a family man at the end of his line, preparing to commit suicide in the catacombs. I vibed with him from atop the street and a Laconia Police Lieutenant caught in the dangerous 22/12 vibe, went down there and approached the man who had my attention and we saved his life, together; off of the books. Bro's taking care of Bro's. He was just one of The Men of Infinite Sorrow who's wife and daughter were picking on him and he felt disgrace because of it, with no where to turn to. I get those from time to time, saved a couple of people's lives. The other was an old woman in Wolfeboro, NH caught up in Organized Crime.
I watched an elderly guy die right off of Main Street here in Concord, NH in 1997 after he jumped from the parking garage to commit suicide. I was told he was an elderly guy who worked at Bagel Works on Main Street. I was out late roaming the streets after midnight and saw a group of people run up the block and there was this guy laying face down, splat, on top of the sidewalk. The Concord Police were called and CPD detained us all before the police took my name. Our crimes are innumerable.
We all stood there, detained against the wall and watched as the policemen talked to each other: "Should we call a bus?" "No, he is barely breathing." After a while he died there on the ground, face down in the concrete with the windful, late summer night, alone. I was fresh back from Allen Memorial Institute that summer with a gunshot wound. I lit a candle in 2018 for that guy there and another person who I had known who committed suicide in a neighboring town in front of his girl with his toddler daughter nearby, with a shotgun blast to his face, after consuming a bunch of his anti-depressants from Riverbend the night before. A search for a reason.
Both candles I lit came with uninitiated contact with the police and one candle came with a threat with what seemed like a airsoft gun (probably wielded by a felon) by a grown man in a trailer park with his 4 year old daughter(?) standing with him. When you are a powerful Brujero at The Head Of The Snake, it is important to Volunteer Community Services and those departed in suicide may need extra help in order to find their way to the other side. If they are Scottish Rite Freemasonry suicide males, they are cloned into The Golden Hill, afterall. I met a guy once at my front door in Eastman Lake Community who had, maybe ten years prior, attempted to commit suicide with a shotgun blast to the face and failed. Now he carries those wild facial scars throughout this physical realm; wandering in-between two worlds.
The Disruptors. I am Boss of The Outfit now, since 2018, so there is no snitching I can ever do, but before that, the above boardwalk occasion would have been considered snitching. At least by Sinaloa standards. That same boardwalk in 2019, I walked alone, setting an energetic trap for 81HAMC the day after Bike Week. I infected the boardwalk with self-doubt and fear of an Outlaw who grew too fast, the world was too wild; and went towards the arcade, which was closed for some reason, I don't recall. I was not him, but I could understand his hesitation. I had grown too fast, too fast into a world without polarity; where everyone will turn and murder you for a buck! But you know it is the truth. On The Folk and on the Five!
The following year was a shell turnout, they call it as no Bike Week at all, but we were all there. The 81HAMC were selling tank tops and I got out of my red VW and walked passed them, as I approached a tall, dark and handsome 81HAMC State Trooper zipped off on his bike from the sidewalk, it is all on surveillance camera on The Pier (FOIA it). The 81HAMC went and got his Palestinian Handler Primary Lead at the slave dungeon nearby as I made my way down the boardwalk, mean mugging what was left of them, showing a bit of teeth.
So I made my way into the arcade this time and cast an energetic resolution to the fear game, along the far right corner of the arcade and set about my business of playing the only arcade game I could afford, which was old school rollerball golf. Not a fun game, and I didn't win a single point! The calvary arrived in short order, the Primary Lead who was sent for and a couple of beardos, all of them secret police.
They hunted for the indivisible man in the corner of the room, upon entry, and finally put eyes on me, alone, about 15 feet away from tha corner, standing behind this quarter-arcade game, finishing my quarter-play. I have been shooting the clothes off of strippers in these arcades at The Weirs since the 1980's; so I know the exits and layout better than them, but I hadn't carried an extra mag on this day for my G19 (same one Weare PD took), and was carrying in Condition 3. I have been in The Killing Fields since summer of 1995, that is over a decade longer than any Intelligence Officer or Federal Agent in the field.
I turned around slowly to meet their eyes and none of them wanted the action, we all seemed embarrassed. What-left, of this showdown? 'Games on the Pier' had over a hundred modern and redemption games. I simply looked beyond 81HAMC through the backdoor at the upperclass YALE bystanders eating dinner on The Pier and thought about target ratios and flows of motion, difficulty of cutting the pie in between pillars and flowing walls of arcade games one or two times, after I just blast the Turk, and the probability of one of the lacky's just running out the front door and the ramifications of double tapping him in the apricot.
Do I have the discipline to let him flee? No. Who am I--? Am I in cardiac arrest? No. Mad-Lad. The confrontation ended without incident and I had two Outlaws walk right into the 81HAMC Hell House with a ballpeen hammer and smack the 81HAMC Principal Lead in the face with the hammer, for the disrespect of pursuing confrontation with AOA ET ALL★!! Real 1%er time. Laconia PD must have called for a bus; those feral chihuahuas. The ambulance was billowing through the Bayside Cemetery intersection with their wailer on as I was lazily rolling out of town.
81HAMC had found Middle Eastern Financial Investors who were located on a yact outside of Madrid. Nice, safe distance. So I had US President Donald J. Trump blast their yacht with a Super-Space LASER. No one was harmed, only baptized by the sea. I started carrying a civilian variant, dual-ported black smoke grenade with me after that. Death by a thousand cuts.
All of my accomplishments, except about 2% remain undocumented outside their syndicate networks and my NSA file (FOIA it). I believe in objectivity. It can be difficult, but it is reality, and reality is best kept accepted. I could have been a snitch and still champion The Black Army. A Legend; a snitch Legend. Uncle Pete (deceased) knew it; Judge Appleton (deceased) knew it; (FBI) Lane Langer (deceased) knew it; (FBI/InterPol) Jimmy Paige (deceased) knew it. I remain discomforted by that interpretation, and disappointed in you. It is all hush money★!!
My arrangement within Sinaloa is if I ever turned, I get my face torn-off, genitals severed and inserted into my mouth to choke to death in a mirror on LSD and that has happened to Feds working for The Three Letters who flipped and work with authorities, all the way back to the 1980's and right up to contemporary times with the broadcast execution of 'The Mustache' NH Lieutenant 81HAMC and DEA agent. A fate which is a far better than what the Communists in power would have in for me if they could ever tell me what to do. You cannot kick the black out of an alley rat's eyes.
I made that arrangement for myself in 1987, not as a deterrent, on the contrary as insurance, because I am around such high-level criminals embedded in the US Government, public criminals; such as The Weathermen, The Outfit, and Winter Hill Gang; that I was driven to know, if I said something at a party drunk, which seemed innocent at the time which could have led to an investigation or be interpreted as having flipped, I would be killed. There is enough wonder in de mundo, I prefer the knowing.
I have known FBI Upper Echelon Informants high-ranking in The State Police, more them you likely would guess, since childhood, CDG NSA Agents, white slaver DEA Agents, and bank robbers. It is a dirty world. We all have to know who we are and where we are going in order to rest peacefully through 3AM each night.
One of Shelly Shanks' gumba cousins literally ran The Combat Zone for most of my life and of course was an undocumented FBI Informant★!! Masquerading as a real street nigga, to the disenfranchised ethnic community there. People like Shelly and I wager the life of a "man" like that on a personal wager between us two, in public, and collect on it without issue. The rule growing up was, if you are scared to do something, you had to do it★!! I was not raised in an environment which accepts an existence of Heaven. The day I was born the doctor carved the arcane infernal symbol for Daemon Ipos into the inside of each of my fresh plump newborn ancles at Concord Hospital for repeated newborn infant blood tests, because my head was too big. I can still see the scars now at 43 years.
When I was announced as The Boss of The Outfit during Beltane 2018 after taking The Chair of New Hampshire from Judge Appleton (deceased); Appleton let it slip that very night, that Appleton would murder me if Appleton didn't personally and assuredly, know how dangerous I was; in order to claim my position, my own grandfather would have murdered me either way for the opportunity to be Boss of Bosses. Appleton's son Mario Carcetti (deceased), still just a boy, was swiftly kidnapped by (FBI) Allison Bigman (deceased) that very night and brought down to The North Shore Vietnamese-Americans and discarded into the slave dungeon there with them. Oh, and by the by, Vietnamese-Americans have been so outstandingly cooperative, I have issued them the Democratic Party. Judge James Appleton later confessed to me, that he could replace what I took.
You are one or the other or nothing at all.
"Look and remember. Look upon the sky.
Orders Ship Spring 2027
