WHY DO YOU DO IT? WHAT DRIVES YOU?
FUN! It is the LAW after all!
Also money, power, and bitches are a constant drive.
WHAT IS ONE THING YOU DO FOR SANITY MAINTENANCE?
Breaking dishes, shooting guns, fabricating spontaneous combustibles, water ballet, karaoke, and chronic masturbation.
I find that hoarding animals and fostering codependent relationships with non-humans is very grounding. I just acquired a new puppy yesterday named Trouble. I bought him for $10 from an unhinged crackhead who was abusing the shit out of him. He is way too young to be away from his mother and has been so neglected and abused that he cries and yelps when I’m more than three feet away from him. It’s sad, I know…My situation, not the puppy’s obvi.
I have given up on humans as they have largely done nothing but hurt and disappoint me. I see myself in all of my lost furry friends who found me. They keep me from jumping off the bridge next to my house. Whatevs. That makes 3 dogs (5 if you count the ones in the freezer), 10 cats, and one pig. For the record, I don’t fuck them. Not that anyone was asking.
WHAT IS THE SCRAPPIEST THING YOU’VE DONE TO MAKE OR SAVE $$?
After thinking long and hard about the answer to this question, I will leave it up to you to decide.
Starting at age 15 I worked in a movie theater and figured out a semi-elaborate scam to pocket hundreds of dollars a night.
Then I started going to raves and crushed up ephedrine and sold it as meth until I finally got a double felony from having cocaine and LSD on me. Both trades.
My friends also elaborately robbed veterinarians for ketamine and I made money selling that at raves.
Then I graduated high school.
I managed to get a $3,000 per year scholarship because of a program that helped juvenile delinquents attend college. My Daddy also claimed he was my financial backer and he was on disability. I had college paid for by financial aid because of Daddy’s trick, plus I got about $800 a month. Then I took out loans for the $3,000 the scholarship paid for and pocketed the money.
After many years of doing it for free, I figured that I could get PAID for fucking horny degenerates. I still do it to this day. WHATTA RACKET THAT IS! I’m SO LUCKY to be a woman!
My first “real” job I got because I was a junkie. I was a youth outreach educator for the needle exchange in Chicago. I really did a lot. However, in the eyes of many cynics, I was getting PAID to give needles to children to inject drugs. I eventually lost this job because we got evicted from our apartment and the landlord informed the needle exchange that their employees had left 10,000 dirty needles in an apartment. This honestly was not my doing! I was injecting methadone with butterfly needles and disposing of them properly! I SWEAR! My boyfriend—who also worked there—and my roommate who volunteered there were injecting crack and using like 40 needles a day.
I was still prescribed 1200 mg of methadone a day by the quack doctor who worked with the needle exchange. To put it in perspective, the average dose is around 120-140 mg, and 300 mg will kill a non-opioid tolerant person. I took 600 a day and sold the other 600. I became a one-person methadone clinic.
I then started what I believe to be my most fucked up and raunchy job at a very large mob run BDSM/fetish dungeon. This place was so crazy there's a whole zine (which could easily be a book) published on it. Use your imagination. Anything you can possibly imagine and everything you could not think up in your wildest dreams, I did.
It was during this time that my greatest life achievement occurred. I had been groomed for this since birth. I got on disability! I had never seen my Daddy so proud!
After that, I got involved with an illegal marriage ring. I went to Uzbekistan twice and Kazakhstan once and married a sweet mama's boy who had big dreams of coming to this wonderful country we live in! Trust me.Despite all its “flaws,” America is a fucking Great Country! If you don't think so, I suggest taking a little vacay to former Soviet Russia! You will become a fucking hardcore patriot for life after setting foot in that terrifying, depressing, insane butthole of the earth! I cashed out with $7,500. If that's worth a lifetime of recurring nightmares then I guess I dun good!
After the disability kicked in, I just coasted on being a methadone clinic whore for nearly a decade.
I got off the kool aid. Went broke. Daddy died. Left me a buncha money. I saved it for years until I blew it all on drugs in a few months.
In New Orleans, everyone is struggling. It's like a mini Uzbekistan. So even the greatest of cons has been done 10,000 times over. The going rate of being a hooker cashes out at $15 an hour, and possibly being raped, violently attacked, and chopped up and eaten (yes....that is a "thing" here that happens to hookers incrementally more than in any other place I've been).
I decided to access money from people in parts of the country/world that are not dirt fucking poor and became a phone sex operator. Being a phone sex operator is like working in a crazed sex dungeon only hearing much more intimate details. It's pretty fascinating and mostly FUN!
As far as the phone sex goes, the most questionable thing I do is converse with and entertain the fantasies of actual pedophiles. This moral quandary was very difficult for me. It's DEFINITELY not about the $0.70 a minute! And I don't get off. Rather I want to bite their balls off with my bare teeth.
I guess I'm a martyr in some way for doing this. I figure that if this phone call satisfies or quells the sexual urges of a man who would otherwise destroy a child for life, I'm going to bear that cross. As much as I hate humans, I guess I'm a loving humanitarian deep inside! Go figure! Or maybe it's just virtue signaling and I want everyone to think I'm a fantastic person for all the time I spend shooting the breeze with child molesters!
There ya have it! Take your pick! I really don't know which one I'd choose! I would like to say, for the record, this is not a list of the most skeezy ways I've made money. This is a list of the ONLY ways I've made money! Since I was a teenager. Maybe one day I'll be compensated nicely for my exceptional contributions to the world of arts and literature and I can stop making money in extremely sketchy ways. Who am I kidding? Even if I won the lottery, I don’t think I could leave the child molesters hanging.
YOUR TASK IS TO PRESCRIBE ONE BOOK OR FILM TO THE COLLECTIVE FOR MANDATORY CONSUMPTION. WHAT IS IT?
That’s an easy answer. It's actually three books, but I consider them a trilogy. Like the LORD OF THE RINGS movies!
I have more copies on hand of these three books than I do of any of my own. I like to assemble them into box sets and give them out to people who should have them. Kinda like those scary demented Christians who hand out Chick Tracts to people they think need saving.
The books are as follows:
TM-32-210 DEPARTMENT OF THE ARMY TECHNICAL MANUAL-THE IMPROVISED MUNITIONS HANDBOOK. An Armed forces technical manual of how to fabricate munitions out of locally available or unassuming materials.
TM-31-201-1 DEPARTMENT OF THE ARMY TECHNICAL MANUAL OF UNCONVENTIONAL WARFARE DEVICES AND TECHNIQUES: INCENDIARIES. An armed forces technical manual of unconventional warfare devices and techniques involving incendiaries, explosives, weapons, and harmful additives.
THE FINAL EXIT by Derek Humphrey. THE PRACTICALITIES OF SELF-DELIVERANCE AND ASSISTED SUICIDE FOR THE DYING. Don't let these fancy words fool you! It's a step-by-step guide on how to kill yourself (or someone else) in the most humane way possible with very handy tables of the lethal doses of a laundry list of prescription drugs.
These three books present a world of knowledge seldom discovered but beyond necessary when living in any environment, whether it be California or the Gaza Strip!
Fun Fact: They are ALL available on Amazon!
Hint: Be sure to order them using your spouse’s or roommate’s or enemy's name so as to not arouse suspicion, especially if you're on some goddamned government terrorist watch list that you have no business being on like myself!
current obsession?
JoJo Siwa! And ridding my house, animals, and myself of an abominable parasite nightmare known as GIARDIA!
Completing this questionnaire! Holy shit! I haven’t eaten in six days! I have not slept in over two weeks. I don’t know. Day blends into night blends into day. It’s all the same. I’ve been wearing diapers. No distractions. That was a smart decision. Must keep going. The sound of my animals whining is deafening and torturous. I smell something burning. Part of the house may be on fire. I don’t know. Did I shut off that propane torch I was using to cook up the meth? No time to check. I thought I saw my roommate hanging from a noose from the chandelier but that might be the sleep deprivation coupled with the copious amounts of methamphetime I’ve had to mainline to finish this. Too late now. If he’s been hanging for this long he’s dead. I’ll call his mother when I’m done. It smells like something died. Or I may have a brain tumor. My ears are ringing. It might be the tumor too. Or the gangstalkers attempting to control my thoughts. No time to cover the room in aluminium foil. There’s no such thing as TOO MUCH meth right? RIGHT?!????!??! I have to finish this questionnaire. It’s So GOOD! The BEST. The best. The best questionnaire I’ve ever completed. I feel like I’ve seen the sun rise and set six times since writing this answer alone. Or is it six? No time to count. Just turn the lights on and off 23 times. That’ll make sure everything goes well. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. Oh shit I lost count. I’ll do it again. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. FUUUUCK! Lost count again! Well now I’m FUCKED!!!!! Nothing will remedy this. It’s gonna be bad. Real bad. The worst. The worst. The worst. The worst. It’s the worst. What’s the worst that can happen! Are those sirens I hear in the distance? Why are they getting closer? It must be the gangstalkers coming to take me away to their government hideout. They’re going to use mind control to drive me insane. More meth. Meth. Gotta stay up. Gotta finish the Discipline/Anarchy questionnaire. I can’t find a VEIN! Straight into the eye then. Gramma told me that. Shit. I’m losing sight. What the fuck is wrong with me? The sirens are getting closer. I can see the lights outside. Hide. DONT THEY KNOW I MUST FINISH THIS?!!????! No time to tell them. I’ll tell them if they bust through the door. Peggy Sue….. Where are yoooooou? They can’t know I’m a targeted individual. I bought all the devices that scramble their signals. Did I forget to change the batteries? They must have a bug. But where. OUCH! This toothache! One of my teeth already fell out while writing this but at least there was little pain. Just the annoyance of it flicking back and forth evety time I moved my tongue. What would Don Rickles say? He’d say, “Are there any Chinks in the room?” Funny guy that Rickles. I heard they implant bugs in teeth. NO! LUCILLE BALL! ARE YOU CRAZY??!???? YOU THINK I GOT THAT FUCKING VACCINE?!!??! Do I look like sheeple to YOU? Q! It stands for Quarantine! Baby-eating cabals feasting on adrenochrome in plain sight while we are forced to sit inside. That’s why they found me. I know. The sirens. The lights. They’re knocking, I have to finish this questionnaire. It might be the last thing I ever write. It’s all over now Baby Blue. Discipline? Anarchy? Discipline. Definitely discipline. I know that answer. That’s easy. Why am I getting morse code transmissions from Matt Damon again. What are they saying. I don’t have time to listen but I’m pretty sure he’s telling me the leprachaun is back again. Where is he. Sneaky bastard. What is the end game. They’re breaking the windows. Oh shit. I’m bleeding. If this was on paper it would look so much cooler. Why are they blasting Nancy Sinatra? DONT THEY KNOW IM COMPLETING A GODDAMNED MOTHERFUCKING INTERVIEW?!!??!? Smoke is billowing in the room. Stay low. Keep typing. If in flames. Stop. Drop. Roll. Continue typing. Never stop. Never ever ever ever ever ever ever stop. YES! I know the questionnaire’s IMPORTANT, Lucille!!!!!!! That’s WHY I’m FINISHING it despite the flames. That’s why I’m writing notes on the wall in ANIMAL BLOOD!!!!!! Animal blood?!!??? Oh my GOD! My puppy! The bug. Must dig through his remains. I have to find the bug. Crisp and Clean and No Caffeine! Is this how it all ends? It’s been a blur. I guess this is the end. I cannot breathe. The smoke. I’m on fire. So this is how it ends? They’re coming. They’re taking me away….. NOOOOO!!!!!!! Not the PHONE! I’m completing a fucking INTERfgjjg Drfghyhjhfhjccceeadgbcbjhjnbvvvvjijmkikjbcxxhhhgfderyyytghuuiiiiuuyyy.
MOST USEFUL FAILURE?
My entire life.
My whole life has been a useful failure. I will direct you to any previous books, social media posts, my 800-page blog, future books, and this interview to find hard evidence of this incontrovertibly TRUE FACT!
I would only be forced to conclude that my most useful failure was failing to be a miscarriage in my mommy's mangled womb. By all accounts, I was destined to be one as Mommy got pregnant by a Black man in the 1960s. Talk about taboo! Both families said my Black brother had to be exterminated. Mommy was forced to do so. But those were the good ol days, like today, when abortion was illegal. So Mommy was forced to endure some back alley coat hanger shit by some pervert waiting in the dark. At least that's how I imagine it. Mommy bled for three weeks straight. Not only did that lil interracial seedling in her die, she faced death head on. She survived, of course, but was guaranteed that she would never have the ability to bear a child. Yet I emerged alive!
I failed at being a miscarriage!
This would be the first useful failure in a never-ending cycle of useful failures that have become my existence in this world.
Please don't tell mom I said that about the abortion.
SELECTED Q FROM THE PROUST QUESTIONNAIRE: What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
This perverse desire to be showered in pity and attention for being a victim. This "virtue" is the single reason I hoard books about improvised munitions, assisted suicide, and incendiary devices. To help deliver them from their victimhood and send ‘em to the "safe space" 6 feet under. I guaran-fucking-tee you the glorification of wallowing in false victimhood will immediately dissolve when they become REAL victims.
WHAT ARE YOU CURRENTLY WORKING ON?
Organizing a worldwide protest against McDonald’s for hiring employees who do not know they are ministers in God’s house!
A feature-length movie called DUMB WHITE SLUTS. (Not even a Porno!)
A love letter and memoir about the lawless lunatic love of my life, my Daddy, published by Nine-Banded Books.
I wrote an autobiographical memoir about my beloved Daddy called DADDY STORIES. It's a dementedly nostalgic account of incestuous toxic love. It outlines my jaw-dropping, gut-busting life with Daddy from my birth to his death. It was released just in time to ruin Father's Day for everyone. It's honestly my favorite thing I've ever written to date. I'm my own worst critic and I initially think everything I do sucks ass. So watch out for this one. It’s published and beautifully put together by my dream publisher, Nine-Banded Books.
I am also working on a movie called DUMB WHITE SLUTS. This started out as a joke I made, but somehow became a complete sensation and now has an actual cast and a dream team of lunatics working on it. We’ve even apparently gained some funding but could use more so pony the fuck up. I will be starring in it and am writing a lot of it. I will try (and likely fail) at making this description of the movie brief:
Two self-important millennial child stars who were falsely convinced they were traumatized as children start an underground movement called the Dumb White Sluts.
They invite anyone and everyone who was traumatized for any reason and considers themselves a victim. Tens of thousands of Dumb White Sluts who are convinced they are victims ban together in identifying as Dumb White Sluts and join the movement. They worship JoJo Siwa as they realize she is the only one who can help them ascend the rainbow road to the interdimensional "safe space.”
They mistake a low budget porn actress coming out of a casting couch audition wearing a high side pony and dressed in sequins and bows for JoJo and kidnap her. They try to "deprogramme" her through abuse and forced sexual contact. JoJo soon experiences Stockholm Syndrome due to her hypersexuality and fondness of rough sex. They then livestream their ritual Siwacides and all the Dumb White Sluts follow suit. It's a social media sensation that rocks the globe. All the Dumb White Sluts are raptured to the Interdimensional Safe Space and the earth is free of them forever.
Also, the second volume of my comprehensive malignant encyclopedia of my most vehement, viral, and vicious of text messages, emails, and Google reviews has been compiled, tentatively titled DON’T PISS ME OFF!!!! VOL. 2. I believe this one has been banned before it has ever been published. Which is a new record for me as The first volume is now banned from Lulu.com after being published for defamation.
I had a publisher for this book, but then I read some of it at one of their events and from what I understand they pulled the plug. What can I say? DON’T PISS ME OFF!!!! tends to really piss people off. I don't know. They are missives written by myself directed at complete fucking pieces of shit. I don't know why they seem to strike a nerve and/or rock the core of publishers and the public at large, but they do. My idea was to blend the first and second volume. I consider the second volume a masterpiece. It far surpasses the banned first volume in its uproarious visceral degradation of its subjects. As of today, I’m looking for a publisher!
I am also working on an audiobook version of AMERICAN VICTIM. AMERICAN VICTIM is a work of such impeccable genius that between printings the public is going fucking apeshit about it. This is an attempt to ease and satisfy the masses who have not been lucky enough to get their filthy fucking mitts on it. It is an altruistic and humanitarian gesture on my part to grace the starving fans with this audiobook. Coming SOON!
Also! I am an advice columnist if you've been stuck in the dumpster with shit in your eyes for the past six months. Wake the fuck up and check out "Dear Pig" in Baited Area Magazine. Also, if you need life advice, submissions for questions are always open!
DISCIPLINE OR ANARCHY?
In an effort NOT to associate myself with the loudest and dumbest of the vapid ass cunts that tout themselves as "anarchists" and "activists" these days, I will leave you with a quote from me, Meg McCarville, that outlines my faith in a word that has been erased from my vernacular.
It was written long before people were being brainwashed in social media echo chambers that served to fellatiate the most banal displays of rebellion in the form of "outrage.” Long before hoards of feebleminded dumbshit boys decided to organize and hoard megaphones in order to make their life-alteringly stupid chants even LOUDER. Follow a leader whom they worship and tote around a hypocritical belief system of "antifascism" and pro-anarchy in order to get pussy.
For the record, following a leader and chanting is not "anti-fascism" nor is it “anarchy.” Duh!
I must admit, I have seen the soaked panties drop and pussy upon pussy hurled onto the micropenises of these boys with their megaphones.
Long before a simple google search of "anarchy tattoo ideas" sent me into the fetal position for days on end.
Think of the most horrific image that you can possibly imagine in your wildest nightmares. Focus on it.
Now type the above quoted words into your google search engine and talk to me in a few days if you have been strong enough to endure the trauma, and have not taken your life by your own hand.
Trust me. You will never get those images out of your head.
You will go to WalMart to buy a loaf of bread and a young lady will bend over revealing a tramp stamp of that symbol in flames and you will completely disassociate and go into a fugue state.
If you are able to come out of it, just know that I stand by you in your immense trauma and confusion. I know many others who do as well. I am sorry. You will experience a tsunami of seemingly endless flashbacks of this google search. I stand in solidarity.
If you really want to push the bar, insert the words "sons of" in front of "anarchy tattoo ideas.” I wish you luck. You will need it.
That's not my quote. This is:
"Next winter when the cold blasts are creeping through the rents in your seedy garments, when the frost is biting your feet through the holes in your worn-out shoes, and when all wretchedness seems to have centered in and upon you, when misery has marked you for her own and life has become a burden and existence a mockery, when you have walked the streets by day and slept upon hard boards by night, and at last determine by your own hand to take your life, — for you would rather go out into utter nothingness than to longer endure an existence which has become such a burden — so, perchance, you determine to dash yourself into the cold embrace of the lake rather than longer suffer thus. But halt, before you commit this last tragic act in the drama of your simple existence. Stop! Is there nothing you can do to insure those whom you are about to orphan, against a like fate? The waves will only dash over you in mockery of your rash act; but stroll you down the avenues of the rich and look through the magnificent plate windows into their voluptuous homes, and here you will discover the very identical robbers who have despoiled you and yours. Then let your tragedy be enacted here! Awaken them from their wanton sport at your expense! Send forth your petition and let them read it by the red glare of destruction. Thus when you cast “one long lingering look behind” you can be assured that you have spoken to these robbers in the only language which they have ever been able to understand, for they have never yet deigned to notice any petition from their slaves that they were not compelled to read by the red glare bursting from the cannon’s mouths, or that was not handed to them upon the point of the sword. You need no organization when you make up your mind to present this kind of petition. In fact, an organization would be a detriment to you; but each of you hungry tramps who read these lines, avail yourselves of those little methods of warfare which Science has placed in the hands of the poor man, and you will become a power in this or any other land.
Learn the use of explosives!"
-Meg McCarville
But nobody listens to me. Oh Well!
