lavelled

[lavelled]

Harry’s gentle rant and rave of violent death online is not only the technological phenomenon of wussiness, but he has yet to realize that when an entire family upends a life that has been read in cards, letters and emails, he should be prepared, decades later, to feel a tiny bit of resistance by those with a heart, so suck it up just like your paid wife does, you bah-bah baby hacker.

Nobody has ever written an ode to how they worship the roots of the Windsor family. You’re just mad I’ve exposed the filth and disorder in your home, stretching way beyond any mother or read contract.

Your mother’s bedside vigil consists of personal interest, financial gain, and the morbid surge of cumming.

You continue to sensationalize your own grief and churchyard piety, eyes fluttering theatrically, for the attention you know Princess Diana brings to your projects and to your global charities. Prince Harry’s life-work-sleep mindset is to fuck Diana, but the one from a high school yearbook.

Your vampy editorship is spilled ink to paint Tom Cruise as this old pedophile rapist — or the alternative — an unfeeling cageman. Even though it was Prince Charles, gay/bisexual, much older and into fresh-out-of-the-womb sex trafficking, who tried to pimp me out before he was married or had male heirs. Then, using the internet as your shiny spinning object you try to convince the world in multiplied stump code that The Blonde Princess warrants you a free pass at sex and revenge and it’s what she wanted.

You barely knew her and from what I’m reading, proof-reading, and Getty-ing, there’s hardly any hint of allegiance to either you or William, and she loved me more.

The thought came to me: I write about pedophilia a lot, not something I anticipated, and I wanted to reiterate something to Harry as he seems a bit unclear on the formal definition. Pedophilia can be the fantasies, the relationship, the desire and, of course, the sexual acts with a child. You don’t actually have to touch the child, hence, illegal child pornography. Charles sexualized me and my cards, letters, diary, and creative work if he tried to offer me up to the nearest British boy when I was toddler age.

Tom didn’t sexualize me because he, in turn, must’ve responded in some form or another of, “No, and what the hell.” There must’ve been some ill-intention on your father’s part because I’m still way over here with nothing. I don’t think you can fall for writergirl and then want her alone and underemployed, but also be granted a successful movie career and have good women marry you. That’s not how it works. I’d like to think that along the way, influential people, authors, actors, Oscar-winners, presidents, real noble kings, authority figures, these men and women would confront a villainous Tom if he were basking in the glory of my misfortune — not to mention all the daily homicide.

Prince Harry blames Tom and a bookcase for what is wrong in society. He thinks Tom brought disaster and disgrace upon his family. The golden days of Mountbatten-Windsor pedophilia, the assassinated Lord Mountbatten, the child-liking Prince Philip, the boy-crazy dinosaur-guy least kingliest Charles, the alive and guilty Prince Andrew and you and your horrid bride have brought scenes of disgrace.

Keep leaning back on your bench with your lies.

From your tech sickbed, you create those fake Oprah and Tom Hanks’ AI-generated adverts promoting defective medical or miracle cures that could hurt people. This is an illegal practice.

The NoViews veranda trick under YouTube videos is supposed to mean Diana, but is just your violent opposition to being without her, the somebody nobody with the scratching of a pen that caught the eye of famous men and women everywhere and would’ve made the path smooth for you. Instead, your pumpkin family will never have the legitimacy and respectability younger Diana would’ve given you. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure ordinary Rachel and your children have exactly what I’ve had my whole life: nothing they long for.

Harry’s YouTube videos are low-budget, low-circulation, and in-your-face visually psychotic: Camilla DESTROYED Harry’s Childhood Room, Queen Camilla THROWN OUT of Palace, Catherine GOES NUTS, Meghan Markle CAUGHT With Willy In Her Mouth, Harry Wants Daddy’s Money… Again, Tyler Perry DROPS HIDDEN Tapes. Are just some of the titles.

They are unwatchable and unwatched, and yet boast something like 75K views so he can get advertising money while fooling the digital media world into thinking his family life is normal, marching forward, unaffected by every word in these blogs.

The King’s only health battle is that he got caught being the rollicking underage leasher. Charles doesn’t deserve to hold conversations with cancer survivors at The London Clinic and elsewhere. There was no cancer diagnosis, no chemo, and no side effects, other than his walking stick of toddler lies. His staff is still doing the flipped thing on a ghost-blown pedophile. Cancer isn’t party gossip and he’s not an entertainer. Send your get well cards to those who actually suffer from the painful disease.

They’re a family of criminals, scammers, and costumed liars.

I need more British readers!

My Diana blog will be soon. I don’t have room for this batch of photos.

K

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1981. One month before the Diana and Charles Royal Wedding.

This is the New York Times revealing that Lady Diana, barely 20 years old, removed “obey” from the bride’s section of her wedding vows because she and I are independent, progressive Spencers. (something the Episcopal Church did on September 12, 1922.)

While Harry’s supporting actress bride was adding servitude and victim to her vows for prime-time interviews, Diana was revising royal tradition that hinted at subjection and submission. Love her.

By the way, your father, Charles, is marrying an 8-year-old child.

Also, Diana wore The Spencer Tiara on her wedding day, opting for her own family heirloom instead of from Charles’ royal collection. Her Tiara has heart-shaped motifs and floral elements.

As a private family heirloom, it was not available to Kate Middleton or Meghan Markle.

The royal piece remains in the Spencer family and Princess Diana’s brother, Earl Spencer, has ownership. The disobeyed article...

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This is Prince Harry on Reddit surmising that the supporting actress fills the quotient he will need to avenge his iconic beloved noble princess mother who was aligned with my heart and Tom’s logic.

Prince Harry, her duke, is grooming her inevitable function (Killtom name; vagina) 12 years ago that she offers up with an undercurrent of anti-feminism that resulted in doublespeak headlines, underwear photog shots, a kid and celebrity suicide tour, and has now pivoted into Instagrammable jam-covered toast.

Why doesn't he delete this stuff…

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Harry’s Axe Creative Writing Course 101.

2021.

This is an English bookshop owner, manager or employee, masked, displaying The Duchess of Sussex's children's book, The Bench, while knowing that Prince Harry himself wrote it. The book. He’s the author. For his knife portfolio. The worker is outing the real author by setting up the book about male and female genital cutting not next to Harry Potter books, but next to Harry Potter merchandise.

And not just any fan favorite Harry Potter merch, but near wizard items that have been placed on an uneven, broken, cracked, wooden bookcase. I’ve circled.

A Niffler mug, red pens, a nod to Harry Potter’s home in Little Whinging, Surrey, two wands, a Hermione doll and two Advanced Potion Making books.

One Piccadilly bookshop and its loyal employees have solved the subtle mystery of what couple would trix the public in that oh-so tedious irony and life-theft code I don’t prescribe to. Harry wrote this book about cutting two people; should British folks buy or continue to own it?

I need more British readers...       

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2005.

This is author, role model, and charitable humanitarian Prince Harry alongside his Epstein-friendly guilty Uncle after said uncle knowingly had sex with a minor (groomed at 16) when she was an unlicensed spa worker — the sexual abuse advocate, Virginia Giuffre.

They’re watching an RAF flypast with one crimson remembrance poppy as a show of support for the Armed Forces and to tell Harry he can go fuck himself…

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June 22, 2000, the Royal Ascot races.

Prince Andrew invited Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell into Ascot's Royal Box alongside Queen Elizabeth II and the Queen Mother.

During that race, Champion Jockey from Ireland, Kieren Fallon, suffered serious shoulder and arm injuries in a four-horse pile-up; it was so gruesome he said that he couldn’t feel his arm or legs and he was bleeding internally. Why am I telling you this? Because he used to be married to my sister and Prince Harry has a question mark near the spouse’s name as the Andrew-Epstein newspaper mentions must be getting to our big tech rapey fraudster. Google the racing jockey.

I showed you Prince Andrew with Ghislaine Maxwell (criminal, groomer, trafficker, shouldn’t get a pardon); here is Andrew with the man himself, Jeffrey Epstein.

Blown open pages of a book…

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Vile.

Jimmy Savile was a popular media personality, children's entertainer and BBC Radio One DJ. He was known for being a wacky charitable hero as he raised millions for NHS hospitals. He was also a sick and sinister, prolific and predatory sex offender who sexually abused hundreds of kids and patients, girls and boys, aged between 13 and 16, during decades of unrestricted access on hospice premises and over a dozen UK medical sites. This was more than 50 years ago. I was in the womb. He went undetected and when a victim came forward or the case went to court, he paid them off.

When he died in 2011 at the age of 84, nearly 500 people accused him of abuse including his own great-niece, Caroline Robinson. An internal investigation found him guilty of grooming, inappropriate touching, rape, and necrophilia. He was made an Officer of the Order of the British Empire (OBE) in 1971 and was knighted in 1990 which made him a Sir. Jimmy Savile and Prince Charles had a close relationship. Sure why not. He was a regular at both Buckingham and Kensington Palace and in the Netflix documentary they showed how Charles sought advice and marriage guidance from Savile, a known and prolific paedophile, through handwritten letters.

I encourage you to Google his name. Be mindful that the wiki photo is not him; Harry is using a magazine photo of English actor Steve Coogan, who played Savile in the television miniseries.

This is 1980 and in a v-shaped leg position, he has been wheeled out atop a sheetless bed, with knotted hanging rope, a black sleeping bag, and yes that’s a tee-shirt that reads, in part, Keep Fit.

He is gesturing and talking with pedo Prince Philip.

This is the UK's most serial, dangerous, notorious sexual predator and he’s telling Philip, Charles and an unborn Harry: Chaps, that is rape and not her.

I’m only 7…

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1983.

A smiling Prince Charles is looking longingly at his friend and advisor, the sexual predator Jimmy Savile. Charles has one hand in his pocket and the microphone wire is shaped in a U. Like-minded birds of a feather.

The tie-wearing men behind them are caught gesturing and exposing a much older Charles as the cruel underage leasher.

Me and Diana are fake-smiling and looking downward, wishing we were anywhere else.

Harry’s not born yet. I’m only 10…

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1986.

Vienna.

Here, The Blonde Princess is wearing a bright pink suit by British fashion designer, Victor Edelstein who used to live with his wife, Annamaria Succi in Venice, Italy. The Blonde Princess is also wearing a hat by Australian-born Frederick Fox that he described as a flying-saucer hat.

This runway fashion show was brought to you by no real reason other than Diana (and her staff) is giving Tom the snip-snip green light for me.

Two gentlemen above the crowd to represent a pedo Charles and a protective young Tom; a plastic bag near an orange V-lettered gate.

I’m Diana, the young girl in the deep red coat…

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Royalty and Moths.

This is us, me and Princess Diana, in a blue sailor hat, wearing the famous butterfly earring and necklace set. The earrings have gold, diamonds, and blue gemstones. On her neck is a larger butterfly on a solid gold necklace. For a visit to Prince George. Harry knows full well why his mother, the most popular princess on the planet and still is, wore the jewelry on this particular visit, of all places.

He tried to flip his own mother’s butterfly/cutting instructions by putting these same earrings on a mannequin puss, Meghan, in 2024 during their Colombia tour when they would kill crowds by shaking hands.

Diana said the butterflies symbolised rebirth and freedom. For a trip to princely Prince George. This is all Googleable.

She is giving Tom the go-ahead. For me…

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1987.

Polarizing.

Here are two royals (Sarah and Diana) and two ski bums.

Notice the starry scoop V-neck sweater and the white turban on Princess Diana. There are about five of these same-posed photos and in each one it seems like the photographer is directing Diana to just lean a little to the right, scooch, a little more, towards Charles, there, almost, yes. So the orange (pedo) pole is over her shoulder, near the V, and impaling the son for the paternal sins that are arrowed by her twisted inward ski boot.

A blue elbowed background skier…

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Heavy Snowfall.

Major Hugh Charles Lyttelton Lindsay was a royal aid to Queen Elizabeth and friend to Prince Charles who was killed in an avalanche while they were all skiing in the Swiss ski resort of Klosters in 1988. An avalanche that came close to killing Charles.

Here, they’re returning to the UK with the body.

In an interview, Princess Diana recalled the accident: “Out of all the people who went, it should never have been him.”

This photograph confirms what everyone says about your family; you and your family are haunted by personal tragedies due to the gusto of your aggressive, demanding, and pedophile lineage.

The orange armbands and Charles’ pinky ring gesture that is overturned by the pilot… 

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1994.

Chairlift.

Endless ski holidays, must be nice.

Princess Diana is wearing K for Kästle skis. She is me; I am her.

Future King William is in a San Jose Sharks ballcap; Spare Harry is in another Dallas Cowboys team item, this time a hat, and his snake tongue is slightly out.

I’m not sure if the Rape Brothers are referring to a hockey-football fight or a West Side Story dance battle, but I think Tom should prepare with tackling, breakaways, and high-kick vocal warmups just in case.

Queen Elizabeth, the old granny, dropped the ceremonial first puck before an exhibition game between the Vancouver Canucks and San Jose Sharks in 2002.

Notice the tall grey rope…

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1988.

Nursery school, a rape contract, cutting, more cock and balls.

A little worthless buckled son with his thermos and, yup, wearing a Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt as he passes a car, a Ford Sierra. A car that was modeled, manufactured and marketed by Ford Europe from 1982–1993, when I was just 9.

Harry was probably too young to pick out his own wardrobe. I’m guessing Diana and her staff had something do with the surgical fashion. Love her.

These royal Getty Images are about cock-n-balls. Cock. And. Balls.

A baby toe on a sidewalk crack…

Attention charities and organizations:

Archewell Foundation, Archewell Productions, WellChild UK, Archetypes podcast, Sentebale, The Invictus Games, Travalyst, BetterUp, Prince William and The Royal Foundation, Homewards UK, Centrepoint, The Earthshot Prize, The Royal Collection Trust, The King's Trust, The HALO Trust, The London Clinic and Clarence House.    

[lavelled]

I know Harry is busy with his Uncle Andrew-Epstein news spun book exposé stories of deflection, but I'll post something overnight.

K

[lavelled]

What was the meaning of your artificial intelligence today (Tiffany Haddish), this small attempt at distraction from the guilty Prince Andrew and Prince Charles child predator blog, I wonder.

I wrote of Irish cottages, groomers, sex offenders, the exploitation of underage girls and Harry, in his grit and grind info-dumping, wrote excessively about bashing brains and heads split open. The self-scribed headline was: Once Came Up Behind Prince Andrew and Beat Him With A Cricket Bat So Severely Andrew Thought His Brains Were Going to Ooze Out His Ears.

Is that an exact quote from Gandhi?

Harry's more professional PR staff is spinning it so that the tech titan who sits most of the day is somehow responsible for the shiner on his uncle, Prince Andrew. Something about a tell-all biography on the House de York.

The gist of the story: Boxer Prince Harry got into a physical fight or altercation with Andrew over comments about Meghan Markle and that’s the reason for the funeral bruise. The knightly chivalrous buttmilk gutbucket is suddenly defending the honor of a woman he exposes with a good bit of pursued adultery, her muzzled and bronzer Tweets, and her undeleted traitorous Instagram posts.

Right. It's about Tom.

Harry, overtaken by grief, is missing a woman who left him empty and alone, though, she continues to inspire rows of library-bound contributions like: Gangbang Fucked Blonde and Cummed in her Mouth.

I realize I’m supposed to do the flip thing on the violent sexual nature and read it as un-­touching, but I’m a girl, so I don’t. He writes about Diana, moment to moment, in risqué pornographic terms and maybe it’s the English Lit study, but it’s just not a type of motherhood that I’m used to reading. It's my experience that his internet prose is cybertaunting, pro-suicide, skull talk, vomiting blood, and, sure, how to break down the mechanics of oral sex. That’s the Harry I know.

But I didn’t know he wrote about her through me, and so sexualized.

My god, you've been allowed to make speeches about this woman. What a fraud you are.

King Charles wears a wavelength ring or a class ring on his littlest finger to represent caging a toddler, me, and to imagine being romantic with his unrequited 14-year age gap boyfriend of a bygone world. Tom. That’s probably been a known fact.

Charles is just going about his daily ancient silliness in coronation robes. Does King Charles have any idea what is going on with his side-show spare son and these documentable blogs because I still see him in crowds meeting young people, why, and shaking hands with Sea Cadets. What next, him cutting a ribbon at a strip mall? A wax figure of him on his knees in prayer? I hope, at the very least, at his advanced age, he requires an extra cushion or feels discomfort upon his pedophile throne.

Something tells me that he has no earthly idea of how much hatred, violence, and destruction his horrific past has caused. I need more British readers.

And I need to post more Getty pictures of an inner circle of criminals and sexual predators known as princes, duchesses, dukes, lords, kings and the entire Mountbatten-Windsor Family, from the woman who knows them best: Me, Diana.

You know, that blonde whose emotional attachment was to wear ballet flats, loafers, boots, polka dots, menswear, USA sweatshirts and home address hats to tell the world that she approved of Harry’s undercutting on behalf of a girl she loved in daughterhood and beyond.

I’ll post that blog at the end of the week.

K

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I have to ask major news outlets who are interviewing Virginia Giuffre’s family, the Epstein accuser who sued Britain's Prince Andrew for sexual abuse: why are you showing the same photo over and over again? There are hundreds of Maxwell and Epstein photos in the public domain. Both The Sun UK and the BBC have printed friendship photos of Prince Andrew and Ghislaine Maxwell at royal events — in September 2000, Andrew and Maxwell are pictured together at the Wiltshire wedding of the prince's former girlfriend, Aurelia Cecil. December 2000, Prince Andrew threw a shooting weekend for Maxwell's birthday, and Epstein was in attendance.

This is a repeat because I’m a bit taken aback at the under-reporting. Photos like this aren’t redacted and the internet isn’t slow.

Harry deliberately spells her name Virginia Dufrey online. Virginia is just 17-years-old when this photo was taken…

In June of 2000.

Newsweek magazine printed this picture today, good job Newsweek.

Under the large top hats and sashes, this is Prince Andrew and Ghislaine Maxwell at the Royal Ascot Racecourse together. This is horse racing and pageantry attended by the whole Royal Family. Throughout centuries, everyone from Queen Victoria to Queen Elizabeth enjoyed the racing action at Royal Ascot, including King Pedophile and Camilla who continue that tradition today, along with Harry & Meghan and convicted felons…

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I haven’t arrowed it, but if you concentrate on what you’re doing⁠, you’ll find two convicted sex offenders on a bench, in a lover’s pose, in a log cabin, on Queen Elizabeth’s estate in 1999. Just two short years after Princess Diana’s sudden death, Prince Andrew was hosting this pair on royal Windsor property.

All of this is Googleable. This image was obtained in the 2019 FBI raid and has been re-printed in a few places on the internet and can be talked about when speaking of trafficking children.

Notice the white tea cup that is resting on the wooden windowsill and Epstein’s U handshape gesture on the bench, which is fence/fencing, meaning cut Harry, which was the Duchess of Sussex's children's book, The Bench written by Harry and about my rape…

2006. The Queen’s 80th Birthday.

Prince Harry is cheek-to-cheek kissing his pedophile uncle, Prince Andrew, before he was taken to court for sexually abusing a minor.

In the description, the tech writers misspell Prince Philip’s name and they all-cap No Publication because Harry altered the algorithm on this one photo in the birthday group so that when you click for it, it leads you to unrelated Getty photos of ABC’s show, Mistresses, that features a law firm and lawsuit setting with a Harry character. Sound familiar?

Both Prince Andrew and Prince Edward are wearing pinky rings.

Hand on shoulder, near a woman with eight arrows on her jacket sleeve cuff...

Three worthless people — Andrew, Harry, definitely not hidden and Meghan — who all have titles, awards, jobs, and biological children.

The other balcony photos I showed were from 2018.

This is a big happy family Trooping in 2019…

Henry Wood is not born.

And yet, a five-pronged fence.

Then-Prince Charles now King Charles, gay/bisexual, is standing alongside his favorite uncle — the controversial, the assassinated, the known sexual predator of boys, Lord Louis Mountbatten with wild, flyaway hair.

A pink flowered chair that means loving Tom as Charles wears his cruised pinky ring in 1979 when Tom was 16 and I was 6…

1987.

First day of school for newsboy William. Princess Diana is in cardigan knitwear from fashion house Mondi that was established in Munich in 1968. It features a red-green jockey atop a horse with either a whip or polo mallet inside a blue circle. There was snow on the ground, but it’s not the typical regal Princess academia attire you expect.

I take it as Windsor pedo riding, polo sport, Mondi, Diana, who is a very young me, and Le Monde, a French newspaper.

I’m only 14…  

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V-neck.

First day of school at Monsters University for Harry. But where’s the star pupil? Getty doesn’t give a shit. Princess Diana is exiting the Wetherby Preparatory School in Notting Hill wearing an all-red sweater outfit.

And that’s that.

Wait.

Those are necklaces. Ah, this was the outfit that the British press dubbed “The Family Jewels Sweater.” Dangling necklaces for Harry errands. Your mother (and her staff), the most popular princess on the planet, is displaying cock and balls at your world-class school.

To expose your first-bed no-choice rape clause. She did this. For me.

1989.

I’m only 16…

There was a 2023 Town & Country magazine article on the famous sweater. Here again, with a visible watch, it was abbreviated and uploaded on Instagram. It’s the second paragraph.

This is Me and Diana, and this is about the genital cutting of her son, Harry, or some form of bodily revenge, because of a rape clause on a little girl who wasn't a nobody…

Après-ski.

This is an entitled punkass bitch on April 6, 2000, at sixteen years old, wearing orange Scott ski goggles and a green hat, exposing his own pedo grandfather, his father and too many Windsor uncles.

Prince Harry means caught and/or cutting that his own mother overturned and overruled, again and again and again, for me, a girl she read, stalked, protected and loved, just like Tom… 

[lavelled]

I don’t want to take Prince Harry away from his cum formula in teen chatrooms as a 40-year-old married father of supporting actress children whom may, one day, read his unique voice of cum stains.

I read that Princess Diana's niece, Lady Eliza Spencer got engaged. You two close cousins? Her engagement has the NoViews label of frustration on YouTube. Let’s find out why. She got engaged to her longtime boyfriend, Channing Millerd, a South African businessman, in Santo Santorini, Greece, where romantic pictures show her in a red dress, also kneeling, as if on equal footing, with him, near a chair, candles, and flowers on a clifftop overlooking the Aegean Sea.

Yeah, she seems wretched.

Well, well. A knee bend. This time, from the Spencer family.

Today, Princess Anne’s son, Peter Phillips also announced his engagement to girlfriend, Harriet Sperling. It’s wedding summer! Peter, who was previously married to Autumn Kelly, is the eldest grandchild of Queen Elizabeth and is now marrying a nurse in an official engagement announcement that he put forth into the news cycle on August 1.

… you were saying?

You seem upset that I brought attention to your ladyladyboners Reddix chatroom. You have a little girl tied up in your basement while you try to conduct business as usual. I want everyone to know about the kingdom of commerce within your family’s mental hospital. I’m not sure if you’re referring to sexuality, but I do know that your entire family is into coerced back-to-school sex.

You sit there and defend your swim naked child preference father and sex offender uncles and have the nerve to tell me what your late mother would’ve wanted through falsified information and artificial intelligence.

Harry doesn’t understand social norms and inappropriately posts AI of Diana on YouTube every hour with the title: Miss You Mom!! God, you’re creepy. What next? Are you going to explain to me what the Female Experience is? You about to tell me something Big and Important about Diana? You don’t get to do that.

I’ll write about our bond — she and I — lightly and with reverence.

I don’t want your mumble poppycock latex numerological bitchcake rollerskating rink orgy of non-words to infect my thoughts.

Virginia Giuffre, preyed upon as an underage employee, grew up to be an arc of light for survivors everywhere. She was a sexual assault and sex trafficking victim who sued Prince Andrew under New York's Child Victims Act in August 2021. She accused him of sexual assault and intentional infliction of emotional distress when she was just 17-years-old. Prince Andrew and his lawyers tried to get a US judge to dismiss the lawsuit and get the case thrown out. That didn’t happen; she had health records, among other evidence. On February 15, 2022, both parties reached an out of court settlement and the Prince has since said that he regrets his association with convicted sex offender, Jeffrey Epstein. My selfish purpose for these blogs is to reclaim my middle-age life, career and some semblance of real love, but I came across a photo. Due to The Blonde Princess and Me, my readership has become breathing space, outer space, and worldwide and I wanted to include the photo on behalf of Ms. Giuffre.

I’ll post again in a few days.

K

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This is how Harry earns a living. A robo-cat who writes about cum.

I read that his travel company, Travalyst, is up for an award.

Underage cum because his grandfather, father, and Mountbatten-Windsor uncles are notorious pedophiles. Read a blog or newspaper…

Surf’s Up.

1988.

This is Prince Charles’ ocean guard fantasy, and not Diana’s. Prince Charles wants a Capri waterpark rescue with a happy ending. Tom.

I’m only 15…   

On the red eye.

This is Prince Andrew, Duke of York. He showed up to the funeral of the daughter of that Lord Mountbatten who was discovered to be a rapist of underage school boys and assassinated in 1979. Prince Andrew appeared with this bruised eye. It was labelled a mystery bruise and if you google the story, it was blamed on a royal footman.

Harry has it as his wiki profile picture…

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April 20, 2000.

No comma in the description.

This is Prince Andrew, 40, getting caught having lunch with Ghislaine Maxwell, in vail. Though, I think my Getty tech writers mean in vain.

Nello was an Upper East Side Italian dining and celeb restaurant in New York, located at 696 Madison Ave. It has since closed.

Virginia Giuffre would have been 17-years-old when this picture was taken.

It looks like two ambulance sirens near his head, meaning sick… 

I can’t tell if Duchess Sparkly is giving disgraced and guilty Prince Andrew, who was taken to court for sexual abuse of a minor, a handy. I don’t wish to partake in false reporting. It’s a fun family photo nonetheless.

She sexed, married and toured the world with first-up and rapey Harry, she knew about Charles the gay pedo trapper, an old biddy Queen with a corpse husband fond of toddler girls, and she stands proudly beside a Prince Andrew.

I don’t know what I've arrowed there. A cum stain or a shadow…

Packed Balcony.

All three of these worthless arrowed people — Andrew, Meghan, and Harry, not hidden — have titles, awards, jobs and biological children.

I have nothing.

This is dedicated to their Sussex Squad, their staff, their charities and their children, Harchie and Lizzie…

1981.

Pinky ring to show that he likes to imagine riding little kids, that he’s married to Tom Cruise and that I got caught in the middle of it.

A black ankle strap because of a rape contract.

I’m 9-years-old…

Prince Charles with his Uncle and close bud, the assassinated sexual predator and rapist Lord Mountbatten.

A feather boa, birds of a feather.

Lime green stripe.

I’m 4-years-old…

1976.

This is Lord Mountbatten, Prince Charles’ Uncle, relaxed in the House of a little Irish girl, which is the official residence of the prime minister of Australia. He’s wearing a watch on his elbowed extension arm and a shirt advertising Moorea, a heart-shaped French Polynesia island in Tahiti.

The shirt has either an animal or a blackface character on it. I’ve arrowed it.

I’m 3-years-old and Tom Cruise is 13-years-old…   

[lavelled]

Prince Harry is trying to monopolize the news cycle with his crucial triviality of AI, or artificial intelligence. Prime Minister Trudeau and singer Katy Perry, both in hats. Tom Cruise and actress Ana de Armas in Vermont. You are pink-phone threatening Ana’s backside or butt, which I take as a genital cutting threat toward Tom. Or me.

Shut up.

You’re just mad at the aired-out Windsor geometrical proof. Your Mr. Dix pornographic Tweets, your jizzing Reddit chatrooms, your eBay wife’s Instagram, the decades-old grandfather Getty photography and pet lizard from Montecito where you don’t live, the sexy Blonde Princess recordings, the popular music videos, the recent shootings and everyday violence. In all likelihood, it was because of you and your family, by the way.

A family that is noted for their first-grader attraction.

I’ll post a blog this weekend.

K

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This is how Harry lives, financially. This is how he pays for his wife, his kids, his houses, his travel, his gastropub visits, his bodyguards, charities and charitable funding, his arts endowment, and his walkable tours, though, they’re slowing down. This is what your philanthropic humanitarian wrote as a 39-year-old married father of two.

While I have nothing.

You’re not expressing anti-establishment rhetoric. All you’re doing is abusing your tech vocation to make kids and young Internet seekers who may need advice feel more alone and confused.

From Father of the Year. In a Reddit chatroom labelled Family…

The assassinated Lord Louis Mountbatten, a known pedophile, British royal and naval officer, is standing behind Prince Charles, his nephew, confidant, close bud, and pinky ring wearer. They’re inspecting green bottles of Champagne in a French tiled cellar.

July 1979.

The liquid shadow is dick-height. A rape contract.

I’m 6…

March 2019. Commonwealth Day.

The extra-sized Getty scripture cannot be skipped. Read it, if it’s highlighted enough on-screen. I’ve never seen such a lengthy passage. The essence is: Commonwealth. Count how many times that word is referenced.

Got it, Getty!

Harry’s rapey number one finger for the chopping block, a paid supporting actress with pursed lips, her trapping pedo father-in-law, and an altar candlestick behind William.

Yellow folder or paperwork…  

There is so much Harry dysfunction in this Harry-made photo. I get the boating and oceanic revenge. But. Huh.

A 1981 John Hinckley-Reagan assassination attempt reference because — attention Brits, British kids and British grandkids — King Charles and other Windsor members (Prince Andrew) are pedophiles.

Total mystery why your mum liked me…

[lavelled]

I have to respond to Harry’s recent news headline where it said that he went to Angina to help clear minefields. Huh. The self-entitled brat typing needlework from the sidelines who has never held a gardening tool is the demining hero we all need.

Interesting.

Because I’m watching him in his IT Moby Dick encampment in real time on Reddit, Twitter, comment sections and his Dani Blogs where he writes about Ladyladyboners (double the fun), scribbling away on whorecum, vaginal contractions and throbbing penis music, so that’s cool that he’s simultaneously in south-central Africa.

Harry: Were you there for, like, an hour?

Why wasn’t Getty there?

I should think Getty Images, the company I’ve been borrowing to help lift myself out of this standstill underpass after 40 years, would be commissioned through the Royal Press Corps to document The HALO Trust visit and the photojournalists weren’t there in any official capacity that I see.

It was a surprise!

This is what I predict happened: you fueled up the jet without any itinerary as though you were just hanging near Namibia for routine tasks so President João Lourenço couldn’t say no, so Tom couldn’t have a clear terrain target, so you could lie about a Sussex return to public engagements, and so you could retrace your mother’s footsteps in a wearying level of news attention.

Diana walked the full length of a landmine without socks and in loafers, you pussy. You took about ten baby steps in dusty boots with zero live interviews, zero speeches, and zero Getty photography because you’re a rapist pretending to be a landmine shaman.

Why do you do this? What are you doing, besides besmirching your mother’s humanitarian cause and failing to replicate her January 1997 walk with the Red Cross? Why do I feel like I’ve now entered an entirely different matrix where you’re a Charles clone acting jilted because of an un-edited blog column, trying to claw at your Tom rival while also grabbing headlines away from words, photographs, and video that hopefully damage your family’s reputation once and for all. This is akin to how Charles always felt, the second fiddle position to Princess Diana’s fashion, popularity and achievements.

The A-ha music video has ticked up more than 8 million views since publication.

Does your maternity ward stripper hoover wife get those kinds of views or do you have to manually manipulate the YouTube view count? No Angolan glory holes for Meg to demine, aww.

The world observed you react to a Cambridge collegiate video by posting anti-Semitic and racist Tweets for a family-friendly Elmo, you wrote of citizenship hostility towards Rosie O'Donnell, you created a Superman Trump image, you wrote that sex offender Prince Andrew Jeffrey Epstein is a Scam and Hoax, you used artificial intelligence technology to produce a romantic sunbathing and seafaring picture of Ana de Armas and Tom Cruise with noodle arms, Tom doesn’t have noodle arms, thereby offering fake yachting footage created in the same warehouse you ink boo pussy cockhungry Riddler terminology and thus is not done to defend my honor, you’ve whined about a nuclear autumn which is a take on the military term nuclear winter, you made a fake AI video of President Obama being arrested and jailed and you went after a UFC Champion, which is particularly on brand for you: stupid.

I noticed that the world stops when you name-drop Harvard.

Harvard.

Bet you didn’t think I’d unearth that video of arcane art, Harry. The glorious sweatshirt. The blinding sunglasses. The blue-black car. My emblazoned license plate. She was a brain stalker, much like Tom. A sexy blonde Princess shimmying video that causes you to write up a storm about Sons of Anarchy and St. Peter's Basilica. Yes and yes. Nice for my Isaac/Biz/Tom to confirm through someone else’s press, finally. Am I taking you away from not moderating Red Rover Rape Twitter?

While Count Charles was intrusive and bleak, Princess Diana was intrigued and cared. She seemed to know that I got caught with no one and gravitated toward the companionless girl. I’m sure she imagined Tom in the evenings, she seemed to turn into a tennis-playing nurse overnight, but she publicly put herself in the middle with me so that I’d have someone, too. Yes, I’m Princess Diana because of her ex-husband’s pedophile perversions — that’s been said — but she didn’t erase me all those years ago and I’m not erasing her now. She seemed to get that I was cast in this purgatorial unconnected inactive role since I was a very young girl and as I aged she brought my words of confidence and tomboyishness along in her athletic wear, her totally funky phase, her speeches, her projects, her humanitarianism, her travels, her vacations, even her London media sass.

She must’ve employed one modern and resourceful private secretary.

Hi, Patrick!

Patrick Jephson. He was her military aide for two years, and then was the first and only Private Secretary and Chief of Staff to The Princess of Wales. He assisted in her British and international diplomacy and traveled with her all over the world. He’s British and was born in Ireland. He holds a Master’s degree from University of Cambridge. He wrote the book, “Shadows of a Princess: An Intimate Account By Her Private Secretary.” He became a U.S. citizen in 2015 and now resides in Washington, DC.

You don’t say.

I listened to a podcast discussion with Mr. Jephson from December 2020 where, out of nowhere, he paraphrases a famous quote. He says in a light British accent, “But just remember: the graveyards are full of indispensable people.” And what famous person originally said it? Charles de Gaulle. Just a warfare proverb about cemeteries spoken by a French General named Charles in a TED Talk-like interview of Diana’s close private secretary in 2020. Harry has reprinted this quotable on Reddit, accompanied by: “Snake. See you in hell brother.”

You’ll notice that Harry’s everyday cultural speech remains thrust upon and full of dread and terror. As you put it in another interview, Mr. Jephson: “When I knew him, Harry was getting into scrapes, a bit of a troublemaker, always going top speed, crashing into things, making too much noise.”

I wonder why my British mother continues to keep American East Coast tabs on me.

The Princess talked of schooldays and academia with poignancy in her speeches. I sometimes forget that she was a nanny, a teacher, and born into a prominent noble family before she married into British nobility. She herself was the daughter of an Earl. During a speech in the 1990s, a prissy female heckler interrupted her to ask, “And where are YOUR children?” The Princess looked up and fired back: “at school.” That’s me! Funny story. Nobody told me I wouldn’t be able to use the English Lit and Drama Studies degree and I kept seeking more education because I didn’t know know the rules and I didn’t know that I’d have no choice but job discrimination and now my loan is at an agency of the federal government that is currently getting restructured and gutted so that my debt paperwork is stuffed under the floorboards of an empty coffeehouse accruing interest.

Meanwhile, the mental institution cybercriminal son conning the public with no higher education to speak of other than a sexual harassment online course that he skipped, boosts his income by chat-room writing about cock-n-cum anal drip and can afford a vadge wife, two domestic homes because he hates said vadge wife, two biological kids, a PR team, bodyguards, an anonymous graffiti artist, several debunked charities that have him ladling out broth as if he cares about any humanitarian effort other than cutting two people whilst I’m in my antiquated childhood home with only debt and a Hollywood-ish double life that nobody in my family knows about and doesn’t get me anything outside of a computer.

The one person an international trapping pact was supposed to keep away is the one person I’ve been in contact with in the last 20 years and the notoriously-documented probably-gay pedophile gremlin Prince turned elderly King with the life-theft handshake has been enabled his entire wealthy life inside a gilded castle with marble ballrooms sans scrutiny or fallout so forgive me if I’m not optimistic that any conversation, painting, video, remix song, or revelation four decades later will bring about a justified takedown, but I know a lawful society will try to spin it to say that couples with kids and careers are the real victims.

Back to The Princess.

I think she gradually found out about the sex proxy ultimatum and it was met with horror. That’s not cum factory code. I mean, she was disgusted with the royally presumptuous blood oath statute that made her instantly protective of a girl whom she knew but hadn’t met yet. She was sharply saying No to you Harry. I have her on tape saying absolutely not. Over and over. It’s about sex. Her walking on that active minefield with that lower-body protective equipment gear is genuine activism, but it’s also her acknowledging a little girl’s choicelessness. To her, HALO meant Hell No.

Harry, she didn’t want me with you — sexual or otherwise — and she wasn’t dainty about it.

There is natural devastation, real starvation and grief in this world that it seems superficial and unambitious of me to repeat my words describing the Windsors as a shithole family of philosophical concerns. However, I want to post another video that proves that Princess Diana was always talking of our connected hearts, affectionately, saying No to Charles and Harry, and reminding me that Tom did what he did out of love.

K

Now. A few photos.

Duchess Twitless cannot read this blog, the news, or the Internet. She doesn't dress herself. Harry does that. Her projects are not trailblazing. She cannot speak freely per royal contracts. The Sussexes don’t live in Montecito and the paid muzzled pumpkin family doesn't live together.

Picture below:

If Trash Could Talk.

The Duchess was forever posting Insta pics revealing a pedophile Charlie Chaplin family and a knifing Nutella bachelor only to up and accept money to marry, fuck, procreate and get railroaded by said big tech bachelor for funsies. In 2014, Rachel Meghan is agreeing with Tom and Toronto that her future in-law fenced-in Windsor family is rapey pedo trash, which Harry re-uploads because they deserve each other…

Picture below:

2015.

A recognizable NDA email sign off, a bloodied pie server wedge, and a napkin that looks like heart-shaped underwear.

This is Harry re-uploading a pie-cutting Insta post. From an adult woman. He married. Made babies with. In a business arrangement. While I have nothing.

I spy a tart…

Picture below:

1982.

Cruising & Cursing.

Thank goodness for the red carpet fashion description we get while The Princess isn’t anywhere in photographic view. Getty!

Orange pedo theme galore.

Look for my painted arrows that show head trauma by a well-timed flag, a Tom dressed in black wearing a watch on the right, behind a standing pedo Prince Charles, and a white U-shaped ladder.

Elderly elbowed bearded man on the far left to represent the two extremes of Prince Philip and proxied Harry…

Picture below:

1982.

Muppet Coat.

Yup, this is my Mama in the tan coat if this woman were inches taller. The little girl, obstructed, at her shoulder is me, underaged yet the Princess. The watchful boy in the blue collar is a close-by Tom.

Her funky jacket has real panache. I like it.

A camera strap…

Picture below:

1986.

Queen of the Skies.

It boasts “The Queen’s Flight” in lettering.

Where is it? Where’s the last missing stair? Who took it?? The designer really needs an aviation course. This is a safety hazard.

As the Princess grips the handrail and laughs over a potential shortfall. So clumsy, Harry!

Diana, showing elbows, wears a polo sweater sporting two green players and one red that I have to say doesn’t necessarily coordinate with her white summery dress.

A smiling and saluting Tom soldier…

Picture below:

1988.

Hackett Manor.

This is Diana and her staff of modernization making the monarch cool and relatable in the 1980s. She wore all kinds of masculine suits, a houndstooth suit, blazers, puffer jackets, varsity jackets, checkered coats, a revenge dress, baseball hats, cowboy boots, and a gold and white military jacket. Even her cropped hair says something.

Young people are going: so what, big deal, many artists in the 1980s embraced androgyny. A Princess? She didn’t have to incorporate glam-rock or explore identity using fashion. For me. But she did.

This has nothing to do with William and Harry, by the way.

This is Diana wearing a green vest from Hackett London, a British menswear brand, to show support for my first pen-pal Tom, and me, a girl way over here whom she would align herself with more than just twin aspect mirroring, more than letters, more than a pact, but about choice and clipping…

Picture below:

1992.

Library Abbey.

Library looks and sounds like a little girl’s name. Which is illustrated through a bright pink suit, elbow, gate, flowers, little girl, cameramen and one seriously pissed off Tom.

The Princess. Pink suit, blue suit — Me.

I've arrowed...

Picture below:

1992.

Varsity Spirit.

From Hawkgirl to my college colors. Stalker mom.

Notice all short-haired mums or caretakers in the photograph. She wears the jacket, horseshoe jeans, brown boots, and hoop earrings for no reason. Princess Diana, me, walking past a little girl, me, who was even younger, an infant me, when Grandpa Charles liked a young Tom.

A trippy Prince Harry holds a mesh bag…

Picture below:

1994.

Lech am Arlberg, Austria.

Verkehrsamt Reisebüro is a tourist office and travel agency.

Ski bunny Mom is racing in the streets near my college wearing a red puffer jacket, sunglasses and boots with her elbows out. The double sided bows. Notice the grey elbow on the right.

A tire.

Aligned with a little girl and a cruising Tom. Lech looks like the word love…

Picture below:

1995.

Whaleship.

I believe she’s calling me a Baller Bitch and I admire the grit. It really means whale point.

She’s on a whale watch aboard a catamaran in an all-white power suit and no life vest advertising balls…

Picture below:

1995.

In Patagonia, located between Argentina and Chile, talking of infant paralysis for no reason.

The yellow baby crib toy to indicate that the little little girl right there is why King Charles is a notorious pedophile, then the girl grew up to be a young woman still in college who is this blonde Princess that the Princess herself acknowledges.

A brown tie and hand…  

Picture below:

1997.

Boutique Bosnia.

Back in Bosnia-Herzegovina for her critical and landmark anti-landmine humanitarian cause — unlike the digital, algorithmic, woodworking, cumming, fucktoy chatroom writer of a son.

You’ll notice the Princess in loafers (love), her brunette companion who looks a bit familiar, the young hipster child walking towards her with elbows out, wearing a green top and an Italian flag shorts.

The one headlight van license plate is U, UN, Uni and standing in front of it is Paul Burrell, former butler and personal attendant to Diana. Paul received the Royal Victorian Medal in 1997 for personal service to the royal family.

The hulking man in front of Paul with the burn-holes stare is Tom…

Picture below:

2003.

Minor Sleepovers. Grandfather Clock. Timepiece Senior Center. Clock to Fuck. I couldn’t settle on a screengrab title. Even the photographic color is drab.

Prince and now King Charles, the notorious recruiter and pedophile, stands in a classroom of all places, elbow and pinky ring, because there is literally nothing you can accomplish as a child, adult, and in middle age when Charles Mountbatten-Windsor and his fetishes are near.

A drawing and a little girl braid wrapped in tight pink elastic.

The young boy who Charles actually fancies.

And the clock reads 1:15…

Picture below:

1995.

Hat Maker.

Princess Diana boldly wore my home address a lot. She would wear this 492 numerology baseball cap on holiday at St. Barthelemy in the Caribbean, February 1995. She wore it rollerblading in Kensington Gardens, which People Magazine captured in November 1995.

All googleable information.

Her son writes the number 452 everywhere on the Internet. Diana was saying minus; her rapey son is saying plus.

Her tilted posture is for me and Tom…

Picture below:

1997.

Under a red canvas, a yellow-greenish crowned monster is waving. I’m guessing this is Charles, behind Princess Diana, and the creature seems to be apologizing for something at a homeless shelter. I didn’t circle the stomach.

As in Tom will hopefully make someone cry for his dad’s sins.

Black blazer, folded arms, and a big mutual heart above her head… 

Picture below:

I wonder where a collection of rogue, street, anonymous graffiti artists gets funding to vandalise walls and buildings.

I wonder how many abstract grind well-paid jobs a ratty rapist son of a child-riding pedophile King can humanly procure in his lifetime while I sit here not hurting or threatening anyone with nothing in 2025.

People queueing up to see what a known cybercriminal and online kid-suicide benefactor produces…

Harry: I don’t want to interrupt your #deadpaul bra cup, cut straight, money-making schemes on Twitter, Reddit, TikTok, YouTube, Yelp, IMDb, Quora, Fodor's Travel and elsewhere, but here is that video with a suspiciously low view count of your mother, the Princess, walking through a near-empty airport that is completely, utterly scripted and staged.

Explanation:

Diana is holding up a Prince Extender Tennis Racquet to shield herself from the swarm of photographers and reporters that were planted there at her behest. She must’ve just been on the sweaty tennis courts in that light blue business suit of hers. One photographer with a watch bumps into her and she theatrically recoils with a lifted elbow. Cue the cute little female brunette with a bouquet of flowers. Then, immediately following the girl-Princess exchange is a Lufthansa aviation sign — or is it Euthanasia? “No.” “Ma’am, please.” “Absolutely not!” A view of black-and-white stripes on a bag and a striped tie. Beeline it to an adjacent elevator. “One picture, alright?” “NO!” A fed-up Diana tries to board an elevator, but there is an unwanted photographer blocking her way. “OUT!” The photographer gets shoved out and bumps into the Princess for the second bump of the video clip. She then gets ushered inside the lift by Loud Shirt Guy. The oldest member of the Princess entourage says: “Out. Out. O-u-t. Out.” Four times, Lady Macbeth style.

“Have a nice trip, Ma’am.”

The elevator doors close and at 42 seconds the photographer on the far right breaks character — Tom.

“Ladies and Gentleman” from a disembodied voice, a black car rolls up with a K194  BAC license plate.

That’s Me.

The numerology, the initials, the Princess acknowledgment, cruising car, everything.

Her brief speech is spliced together with vacation footage of, ugh, Will and Harry and you’ll notice a pool, a Whizzing T-shirt, red shorts, and a Planet Hollywood baseball cap. Her speech contains the list of words and phrases: kindness and affection carried me through some of the most difficult periods and always your love and care has eased that journey. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, she says.

At the end, they’re talking about Charles and Harry and their women-as-possessions agreement.

This 3-minute clip of archive footage is from the HBO documentary, The Princess, which was released in 2022.

Here it is — watch, then scroll down...

Princess Diana advertised my home address, reflected my interests and hobbies, stalked my education, and continued to use words like love and affection. She showed opposition to my arranged bedroom coupledom. With you. Her son. She and I are fused together and I don’t mean that in a macabre way, although, I remain a bit stymied and it’s been a hell of a long time. I don’t want symbolic head pats. It's condescending. I want to see the people I’ve liked my whole life. All the evidence points to how Diana discovered the pedophilia, the pact, and the reasons why and wanted out of the Windsor family. She explains herself in daylong sentences to love me like a younger twin and a close daughter and reveals her alliance with Tom.

She didn’t want me in your family, Harry.

K

-----

As far as songs and videos, Velvet Revolver’s Fall to Pieces. They somehow combine the hair bands of the 80s with 90s Stone Temple Pilots and the result is a 2004 power ballad with an inimitable guitar solo. The lead is an absolutely tortured addict Tom Cruise; there is a Princess Diana lookalike who is me and a wheeled triage gurney of revenge. Musician Slash wears an orange Camden Computers t-shirt, which is a real IT company in New Jersey.

You’ll find it.

Attention charities and organizations that associate with Prince Harry and his family — read some blogs and watch a Princess video:

The Parents' Network, The Lost Screen Memorial, Archewell Foundation, Archewell Productions, WellChild UK, Archetypes podcast, Sentebale, The Invictus Games, Travalyst, BetterUp, Prince William and The Royal Foundation, Homewards UK, The Earthshot Prize, The Royal Collection Trust, The King's Trust, and The HALO Trust.

[lavelled]

I’ve noticed Prince Harry’s Viagra Halo Trust landmine clearance news getting louder and louder for all the wrong reasons. What I mean is: what’s wrong with you? You’re using civilian casualties as a backdrop for minor genital trauma towards, I guess, your own father by traipsing on an iconic history-making Angola parental visit she did in 1997.

I have to say, I haven’t found any videos of royal Sussex speeches or interviews on your landmine awareness. Could it be due to a blog and collegiate video reaching Angola and Southern Africa?

I want to respond to this news, so I’ll post something tomorrow night.

K

[lavelled]

The Mountbatten-Windsor Family is known for their pedophilia with a perversion for young boys. It’s called generational pedophilia.

One of their ancient rites and customs is to acquire the updates, letters, and pictures of edgy middle schoolers, young boys, sometimes girls, during innocent boyhood and get aroused by these items in order to properly function in their high regal positions. The full age spectrum of desirability fluctuates, but I write middle schoolers to be concise.

Royal staffers and charity personnel have been aware of the Windsor family pedophilia, Harry’s tightly sealed mousepad rapist mentality, and his real-life chemical imbalance and they work for him anyway.

I wrote of Lord Louis Mountbatten, Prince Philip's uncle, the great-grandchild of Queen Victoria, and how he was in the Royal Navy for more than 30 years, and who was known by family and friends as Dickie. Uncle Dicky. It suits them. On August 27, 1979 Mountbatten and six companions went sailing in his 30-foot boat, unaware the IRA had planted a 50-pound bomb in the hold. The bomb detonated when the boat was offshore, killing Mountbatten and three others (an 83-year-old relative, Mountbatten’s 14-year-old grandson, and a 15-year-old deckhand). A man named Thomas McMahon was convicted of the murder and arrested by Irish police on the day of the attack. Lord Mountbatten was involved in the sexual abuse of young boys as young as 11 in what was described at the time as an old-boy network. There are reports that boys had been trafficked directly to Mountbatten in August 1977. There’s evidence of Mountbatten’s bisexuality, his paedophilia, and the fact that it was known about — and how it has been covered up.

I exposed the author of the recent Epstein Tweets to be Prince Harry as hierarchy conjecture.

I said that Covfefe Harry created the Trump-as-pope in a papal headdress image.

I showed screengrabs of family names as proof that Prince Harry penned hateful, offensive, racist, xenophobic, Islamophobic, and anti-trans Tweets on an actress' professional page to try to derail and sabotage her historic Oscar campaign. They were angry tweets meant for Tom. After people read my submitted evidence, the fallout for the white royal was a few mild headlines claiming Twittergate. Bravo. Good-to-fucking-go, huh? While Ms. Gascón, to this day, has headlines describing her as controversial. Do you mean talented? Oh, controversy ensued. Yes, yes. He’s still writing about it on Reddit. He’s the pacified rapist grown son of a King who thinks children are rideable. Let’s show a bit more backbone that stays within parameters, god forbid, but that supports your clients because otherwise why would I go to the trouble of proving anything?

I wrote that the dual cancer diagnosis in the royal family was a lie and that the painful and sometimes terminal illness was used as sea-voyage code for Tom. Princess Kate and the sovereign, King Charles, never had cancer nor treatment, yet continue to milk sympathy through a cancer support group per a Non-Disclosure Agreement.

I caught Harry’s hacking of a country's energy grid in Spain. Sometimes Twitter is down. Sometimes PlayStation. He issued a Spotify statement of: We’re aware of some issues right now and are checking them out! Lies. I know that. The YouTube NoViews. The TikTok green lasers. If you find yourself listening to a video of Beethoven on YouTube and right in the middle of the interlude you recognize a human sneeze, that’s Prince Harry’s unregulated tech company. You don’t expect Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Piano Sonata No. 11 in A Major to contain a cough, but there you go. Violin. Cello. I forget what exactly I was listening to, but with Prince Harry, musicology can take on a jerky guillotine-out-of-nowhere rhythmic kind of experience.

Prince Harry pretends that he is a chill dawg or bad-boy student on Teenage Reddit. Just your workaday 40-year-old married father of two and affluent British prince earning income by writing about life, drugs, friends, school, classes, girls, boys, teachers, parents, family, sleep away camps, hockey, dinosaurs, suicide, depression, movies, pets, exams, uniform rules, the philosophy of masturbation, and underage boobs. Actual topics. He writes: “I’m a current freshman, ask me anything...” Sure. Why haven’t you been institutionalized outdoors and off-grid yet? Among other usernames and accounts, he controls the IndianTeenagers forum and TeenIndia; he pretends to sell Xbox games as PhilsTriangle, again, nestled on Reddit, even listing PayPal and Venmo details, shipping costs beyond $5 will be covered by me, he writes. As a make-believe teen, he scribbles: "Oh my mom is mad about XYZ, is making me come home."

No.

Prince Harry writes a little too much about Teen Life for Tom Cruise to be the main reason.

On Tuesday, April 23, 2013, Prince Harry hacked The Associated Press's Twitter account (he merely logged in as he controls most of the important accounts) and wrote, “Breaking: Two Explosions in the White House and Barack Obama is injured.” It was a false claim. President Obama was safe and there were no explosions. The fake news tweet was blamed on the Syrian Electronic Army. The tweet impacted the stock market, and the Dow Jones Industrial Average (Dow), NASDAQ, and S&P 500 plummeted before rebounding after learning it was a phony tweet. Twitter allowed lingering effects of the publicity stunt (rape) to be considered a joke with the hashtag #APTweets.

Prince Harry is the Syrian Electronic Army. It was about Tom Cruise revenge and firsties with The Blonde Princess. Me.

I showed how Harry, a rich philosopher-businessman, was hired to bemoan his sexual hardships on a BBC forum in his roaring twenties. He writes intentionally negative Goodreads reviews. He writes bad Amazon reviews. He self-publishes revenge books and sells them on Amazon, even though he’s a rich aristocrat. He alone is responsible for the widespread and cruel price fixing on certain symbolic items on Amazon, which is a flagrant violation of Antitrust Laws.

I said that lone-wolf patriot hacktivist, Th3J35T3R (THE JESTER), is Prince Harry and that his laptop is displayed in the Spy Museum in Washington, DC for international government soppity droppity flippity floppity flips, even though September 11 and Sandy Hook and all that suicide.

Bohemian Rhapsody, the song, was written in the late 1960s, (not born) and could’ve been tweaked and rewritten to include a newborn babygirl in 1975 or is solely about Tom at 13 or is about an unnamed child, but no matter what the song is disgusting yet melodious rat-trap proof.

I uncovered Prince Philip and Charles’ penchant for minor deckhands while learning that it was never about me; it was about a 1980s actor who caught Charles’ eye. Therefore, I divulged Charles’ Pedophilia and the Aquarium Castle and who exactly holds the paperwork.

Charles, the super‑whale, is or was bisexual, though, most likely just prefers children. He remains repressed and once upon a time he got his kicks from eavesdropping on the pen-pal-ship between one newly-famous actor and one dramatic tomboy. The English turned royal parlance must’ve made Charles hard. I was way too young for such a response. Now I know what people mean when they say he leaks oil. For the Cruised actor. Tom was young and I was a fetus so what the fuck.

Charles, believing he had superiority and every advantage over a common girl’s body who was not yet a tween, representing their grandchild in all her unrefined sarcastic storycraft, thought it was fair to decree that she be passed down in body and spirit to his youngest son, Harry, like a sexual heirloom or obligation without receiving formal introductions.

From beginning to end, that’s rape with a little bit of intimate prostitution.

Prince Charles, a man severely older than me, over an evening pipe and caveman grunts, tried to pimp out my heart and body.

I was writing about softball and Hubba Bubba gum and somehow Charles made it about sexual residue. I can’t imagine the words were valedictory enough to cause expressive effect. I was a kid. Maybe that’s how closeted windbag predators get shooting ink erections when they can’t have the sex they actually want — I don’t know, to be perfectly honest.

Prince Charles, so great and so agreeable, a role model, could not survive without this child, oh the inhumanity, and backed Tom into a corner, metaphorically speaking. Tom had to calculate and decide no to the hospital-bed pimp proposal based on age, morals, logic and the Mountbatten-Windsor kid diddling history.

And Tom genuinely liked the girl.

Years later, Harry would fall for epistolary writergirl and though at present he is a heart-wedded married father of two and a respectable gentleman, he should be valued enough to fuck any woman he likes.

It’s still a No to Harry, in case anybody thought that my answer had wore off.

The Mountbatten-Windsor men, The Firm, The School of Whales, The Family, and their easily reportable pedophilia of economic thought, urges, arousal and Prince Andrew Epstein's mansion visits are all over the Internet. The British royal family appears straight and soldierly, but is not.

In his worst line of conduct, we learned that Technological Prince Harry uses his occupation, illegally, to gloss over his grandfather and father’s Valentine kiddie porn attraction that’s been immortalized in photographic evidence, aesthetics, movies, lyrics, in the pulps, fiction, documentaries, descriptions, baby names and, unfortunately, obituaries.

Finally, I published the truth and provability of the Megoland being an illusion where the supporting actress was hired as a staff escort to represent a country and crown and, of course, to produce.

The Windsor-Sparkles is a two-parent household who live separately with the help of FaceTime. Their press is full of misstatements and outright lies. You may have noticed their hemorrhaging soundbite news headlines: internal probe, bullying probe, bullying allegations, bullied, staff quits, bloodbath, culture clash, trusted royal aide, full of regrets, reduced to tears, throwing tea, explosive argument, very sticky situation, and fruit conspiracies.

Harry, your relationship isn’t hummable imitation. Do you understand what I mean by that? Usually, celebrity couples give a feminist, literate, whatever nod to the girl with nothing but dreams way over here, but this woman doesn’t even know what day it is. I bet she had no idea that there were fiery demonstrations against ICE in LA where she lives or why citizens are protesting the ICE raids or what a No Kings movement was, until the artifact museum postponed her little liar unsolicited donation evening. You can’t represent the crown or a lifestyle brand when you’re so willingly resigned from real emotions and any leadership curriculum. You have to be able to link the past and present together and not only did you fail at that, horribly, but whoever approved of your union wanted me to wake the fuck up, uncover the backstabbing anti-feminist vegan organic pumpkin seed steel-cut oatmeal Nutella sleeping-with-the-enemy shit, solve the equations, seek revenge on an old haunts family who disenfranchised me, and reunite with my pen-pal, because I never would’ve written these blogs about Chelsy or Cressida.

Two like-minded women who married hyphenated men, by the way.

I’ll say it again. Whoever told you to marry the woman from California with the Rachel name in unearned opulence who knew about your family pedophilia and the tragedies and advertised this knowledge in cheerleader cockiness on social media wants you underground.

You’re a fake husband and a part-time father hemming and hawing over cutting while trying to buy his obedient partner credibility and I’ll stop you at every erotica cumwork corner. Young Harry at 40 wants the earth’s diameter of diagramming sentences in human form. The mother.

He writes about it every minute of every day, for attention and money, but people who hire him should definitely continue to feign your pearl-clutching ignorance about this unsavable rapist bachelor and his family that you’ve known about your whole professional life.

Unless you’ve dozed off midsentence, I’ve unveiled all that and more in 60 blogs with graphs and photography over the course of one year.

I’m re-printing a few celebrity suicides in chronological order that took place extremely up-close to the Harry & Meghan Royal Wedding that was held on Saturday May 19, 2018. Names, dates, and Princess references:

Stephanie Adams was a model and author who jumped to her death while holding her son on May 18, 2018. ONE DAY before the Harry & Meghan wedding.

Margaret Ruth Kidder, the Margot Kidder, the actress, killed herself on May 13, in Livingston, Montana, SIX DAYS before the royal wedding.

Alessandra Appiano, an Italian writer and journalist, died by suicide on June 3, 2018. 15 DAYS after the royal wedding.

Kate Spade — 17 days.

Anthony Bourdain — 20 days.

Victor Doblas Heringer was a Brazilian novelist, translator, and poet. He killed himself on March 7, 2018 in Copacabana, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

Christopher Joseph Gedney was a professional football player for the Chicago Bears and the Arizona Cardinals. He killed himself on March 9, 2018. Big Tech Prince Harry has a question mark near his spouse’s name on his google wiki page.

Peter Alexander Beckett was a Welsh-British actor who was found dead in his London home by suicide on April 12, 2018.

Avicii, real name Tim Bergling, was a famous Swedish DJ, remixer, and record producer who died by suicide while on holiday in Muscat, Oman on April 20, 2018. 29 days before the royal wedding. He’s best known for the songs, Levels and Wake Me Up. Muscat is on the Arabian Sea.

Hendrik Henk Numan was a Dutch Judo specialist who won the Olympic bronze medal and on April 26, 2018 he killed himself in Landsmeer, Netherlands.

Brian Christopher Lawler was a professional wrestler with the World Wrestling Federation (now WWE) who killed himself on July 29, 2018 in Bolivar, Tennessee.

Peter Frame was a former New York City Ballet principal dancer and dance teacher. He killed himself on August 30, 2018.

Karyn Elizabeth Dwyer was a Canadian actress known for the hit movie, Better Than Chocolate. She killed herself in Toronto, Ontario on September 25, 2018.

Michael James Snyder was the CEO of the Red Robin restaurants, the instrumental force behind the franchise and its return to success after a downward spiral. He shot himself in the head while sitting on a bench in the front yard of his home in Yakima, Washington on December 2, 2018.

Prince Harry, with only a cultural inheritance of global humiliation, is a chucky doll and child preference defender. He gets paid to expose his Blockbuster Video sex demands. Although he’s outnumbered and outmatched, he’s placated by numerous websites, his family, his royal staff and was allowed to act goofy on TV. I don’t understand how I was corralled by him on the Internet for over 20 years and that wasn’t deemed a concluding gesture. He Faves these blogs and writes things like: “Very important, please watch, we were duped.” He deserves to live in isolation until the conclusion.

Charles seems to prefer Tom and I in a variety of ways over his own biological son, which makes perfect sense now.

King Charles, an elderly lord, who romanticizes youth, example being that I'm The Blonde Princess, is the reason why people feel that they are wired together in fraying rope that has caused global unrest, wars, homicide, kidnapping, kid and celebrity suicides, self-harm, and anxiety, while one person, the voice, is buried in the middle.

I’ve been quite loud in this framing at 52. The green light is a leashing king, a baby queen, and for Tom.

K

I know that society is a human collective of Beautiful Mind Soprano Dexter codecrackers pursuant to bloodied revenge, but I think I’ve left the house only six times this year. If it weren’t for Amazon delivery drivers and all delivery personnel, I wouldn’t be here.

The Kill and Cum code.

It’s babble passed down from one generation to the next; from boyfriends to girlfriends to spouses to a divorce; I was told I had clients and patients; it stole my life, career and uterus; it’s five-dimensional; and it can be misinterpreted.

I didn’t know Charles was the leasher. I admit that.

But I don’t need blog storyarc reviews.

Nobody wants this to end more than Tom and I.

On the Internet where nobody moderates Harry — the rule-breaker, cybercriminal, going through a forty-year Teen Phase, but can get prime-time interviews, TV specials, Netflix deals, book deals, and can showcase his hypocritical activism grandstanding — he writes of pre-teen cum, teenage boobs, school toilets, anus leakage, testicle biting, dirty nuts and bolts, horse condoms, doing suicide, the guilt if I failed at suicide, noose hanging, the crushing darkness, in bed wondering if I should hang myself on the door handle, skull shooting, would have broken her completely, demon blood, period blood, coat with Vaseline, and anything piss, shit, and ejaculatory.

Harry’s debunked charities: does that sound good or bad to you?

------

Now. Photos.

Duchess Megs cannot read the news; she cannot touch the Internet; she cannot dress herself. Her projects are not trailblazing. She cannot speak freely per royal contracts. All her speeches are written for her by Grammarly. The Sussexes don’t live in Montecito and the paid-for California pumpkin-fucks family doesn't live together.

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Bland Ambassador.

A couple of minor things.

Why forfeit the passcodes to your husband so he can re-upload any image at any time in his vast network of cyber criminality? Do defunct websites need advertising? Do yogis forget when they basic instinct the Canadian waterfalls?

I already have award-winning professional photographers to vaginally describe your marriage, Harry.

That’s him on the right-side, with his philosophical commentary that implicates his grandfather and father’s child/teen attraction. Verda in Spanish can mean truth and the color green.

He mentions The Blonde Princess in blasphemy and pedophilia, knowing that Mergs is the exact opposite of Diana, who is Me.

She couldn’t even attain a public, respectable, Diana-level divorce…

The following imagery is in chronological order…

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Charles is being called out for his pedophile urges and genes with a close-up of the roped-off dick section and tied wooden post where the wristwatch seems to be glued to, protecting the young daughter of a race car driver.

Older people with their elbows angled up to the sky, don't look up, to represent Prince Philip and Mountbatten elders and present-day Uncles.

Hatch Engineering Company near Ashford, Kent. 

1968. I’m not born yet…

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Little Italy.

A church-run orphanage in Malta.

I was doomed. (Sicily is just a ferry ride away.) What is your family’s obsession with Sicilians? Harry writes about it on Reddit: “You will see water and nothing else. I wouldn’t recommend it unless your car travels with you. There was one from Syracuse but that shut down.” I recently showed Getty Images of his parents in Siracusa, Sicily and the mentally ill rapist son is still writing about it in 2025.

Incidentally, Tom Cruise was born in Syracuse, New York and I’m Sicilian. Allora.

Here, the photographer captures the known pedophile Prince Charles touching his tie with a dick-wet grin while young boys and girls and nuns stand behind him. Little legs and little folded hands. The British flag strategically placed near the older man who represents known pedophile Prince Philip. 

1968. I’m not born yet…

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1970.  

The jailed or handcuffed infinity 8 Polo Number with a line or slash, behind Cambridge Prince Charles as the prince smirks and rubs his ring, which he wears on his pinky finger. He talks with a woman wearing a boxy jacket pattern.

Man wearing a watch near the 8th Man is seen covering his nose/mouth area.

A distinctively wrapped pearl necklace on a woman in the crowd.

To the far left, and almost out of frame, just his nose, and not credited in the description, looks like his father, Prince Philip.

No daughter in my family is even born yet…     

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1972. I’m not even a month old and it looks like Prince Charles is an oversized giant with the older women literally fleeing from him as he takes his strides. Creepy.

A noose-looking loop on the right attached to a camera to indicate that Prince Charles prefers to be connected to the opposite of older women: small boys.

Under the word Shop, a baby stroller with a downward finger to confirm that he and his Dad like underage children. Ironically, Eaton without the “a” (Eton College) is a well-known British boarding school in Windsor where both William and Harry attended. For boys aged 13–18.

Even more ironically, this is outside The Black Boy pub in Newtown, UK…

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Chuck E. Cheese. 

Song — Black Cat. Janet Jackson.

There is a collared black dog lounging on the grass, an adult raised knee holding a hat, a child’s knee being scratched, an even younger child who can’t believe she got caught in the middle of this shit, and a third girl who is there but hidden. 

Prince Charles smiling and laughing — we’re happy he seems pleased in all these photos — in a green and red Polo number 2 shirt and dirty gloves.   

I’m not even 2 yet.

A blanketed horse and rope…

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Canadian Bacon Sandwich.

Prince Charles in Canada, surrounded by women per Getty’s colorful description, an inside-out jacket pocket with a handsome young man in blue somewhat hidden behind the white gloved female wall, who I take to be a young and knowing Tom. The photographer is capturing Charles’ bedroom preference. And it’s not the women.

Looks like a salivating Prince Philip on the left there as a clear queen reference.

July 1977. I’m only 4…

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The Pedo Huddle.

A cross-legged man leaning on four taped criss-crossed broom or hockey sticks, swords or polo mallets, whatever.

Just casual. With a severely arched back, hands in lap, lazing on the bumper of a Land Rover with a KILL license plate in the 1970s that I highlight with a red arrow in 2025.

A brown duffel bag that looks like a frog.

The tall fella is a Prince Philip stand-in, so another clear queen reference.

January 1, 1978 and I’m only 5…

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Old Wizards.

The famously assassinated Uncle Lord Mountbatten is beside his close bud and protégé, Charles. The 1st Earl Mountbatten of Burma and Royal Navy officer who was killed for being a known pedophile and abuser of young boys.

The car door reflection has shoes, bended knees, and a sunlight imprint on the chauffer’s face, wearing a hat buckle.

Behind the chauffer is a young, blue-eyed, and watchful soldier. Tom. Police officer behind the young soldier and a young woman holding a red something, purse or folder.

May 25, 1978 and I’m still only 5…

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Cupid’s Petite Arrow.

Prince Charles riding a mini, mini, mini bike.

A winter pom-pom hat is angled downward to also include his father, Prince Philip, and his preferences, near a woman in purple with elbows and a camera, young men, boys, and one five-year-old boy in overalls with a maternal protective hand in red, which I gather to mean Tom.

July 1978 and I’m still only 5…     

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I’m 6-years-old.

Notice the misplaced Getty description commas. Lord Mountbatten, the assassinated pedophile, is talking to his best bud and confidante, Prince Charles. You can just see the pedo in them. It helps that they’re always surrounded by young boys. Especially that boy, the one super close and behind Charles, holding a camera.

Looks like Tom on the right, near his elbow. 

Little girls in red on the shoulders of unseen spectators. 

Charles is wearing the polo Number 4…

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Diaper Fetish.

Prior to marriage, Lady Diana was a nanny and kindergarten teacher at the Young England School. This is 1980, before the royal wedding and before the ginger spawn and you can see that a lot of effort went into naming the second spare son, which goes along with the love and nurture Harry has been given from his dad.

She’s pictured near a spiked fence gate, backpackers, and a bus stop. Up, up, up. Prince Philip.

The baby is wearing a seat belt, mittens, and the ankles are crossed to represent Me as Her...

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1981.

Lady Diana with her preschool children that could double as my baby sisters and me.

That is my real Mama in red, punctuated by the fact that her maiden name is on the marquee of the hair salon and Lord Earl Spencer you and I are definitely having that family name inclusion chat.

Red, green traffic lights and underage greenery and flowers in blue buckets to tell me that I’m Her, Diana.

See that image on the door of the open business that looks like a figure skater? It’s actually the official symbol of Florists' Transworld Delivery (FTD). It’s the Mercury Man logo, featuring Hermes, the Greek god of messengers. It means “swift travel.”

Mercury. Hermes. Underage. Me…

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Mia Farrow-ed.

1981. In Wellington, the capital of New Zealand.

Before their royal wedding even happened, lookalike Dianas showed up with full page magazine photos to meet him, Prince Charles. They don’t seem impressed enough to bring photos of the dullard for him to sign.

Notice the names of the women in the description, which are variations of Tom and I.

I’m only 8-years-old…      

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Tom Cruise, Princess Diana, and Don Knotts. I just alienated half my readership. The newly wedded couple went on a love boat cruise, shockingly, for their honeymoon.

They’re on the Royal Yacht Britannia for an 11-day cruise of the Mediterranean. They traveled to Tunisia, Algeria, Sicily, the Greek Islands, and Egypt. Goddammit. Sicily. Again! Can you stay away from Sicily and Italy forever, you pedo waddle king?

This is googleable, but online it says about their honeymoon: “Charles brought books and art supplies on the trip, which Diana reportedly resented.”

I AM 8-YEARS-OLD. She is me…

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The Charlie Chaplin Adventure Playground for Handicapped Children in the district of Kennington.

Notice the tightly-sealed fence that the glasses-wearing young boy (Tom) is none too happy about, with the brunette girl on the other side.

The Princess, looking downward to represent elder Windsors, is reaching for her purse as in “you’ll pay” and the similarly aged gentleman beside her represents a pedophile Charles, too close to children.

I’m only 10-years-old…

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A King Charles’ favorite: little go-karts.

Land Rover Mini… for… golf? 

A smiling young girl is handing The Princess a single red flower, wearing creased shorts.

One tiny arm on the right of the photo, near a green ballcap, is pointing to a married then-Prince Charles.

Prince Philip and King Charles are both known pedophiles.

The little girl is me; I am still only 10-years-old; Charles imagines riding little boys and girls…

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Victoria, Australia. To mean, tiny mustaches or Windsor pedophilia — Queen Victoria.

The Princess is crouching near an Entrance wooden post with two little girls and one boy, who is watching the interaction carefully.

Above Diana’s head are two legs in grey leggings with a protective dad embrace, who is actually that young kid in pastel. Tom.   

The brunette with the white collar is wow a much younger me to represent who Charles pretends he is entering and Exit for his other stuff and X for leashing and X for Harry…

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On the polo pitch.

Princess Diana is wearing leopard-print boots and jeans and a British Lung Foundation sweatshirt, which is a red balloon. Think: Banksy.

Two worthless in-cahoots brothers find a worm in the ground; the now-famous knee bend.

1988. Pedophile polo rider Prince Charles is caught demonstrating that his horsemanship and erections are from little kids with a heavenward whip and the Number 3…     

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Private Entrance on Necker Island. 1990.

The island is entirely owned by Sir Richard Branson.  

Two tiny princes. Little walking strides on beach quicksand. Diana’s strategically positioned hand on leopard print and the other adult is only visible by a Tom arm (meaning armed or shoot or revenge) which I’ve highlighted.     

I haven’t even graduated high school yet…

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The beach’s full name is Banana Bay Beach in St. Kitts.

Little girls looking downward, green swimwear near the ecstatic Princess’ leg and green stripes behind her to indicate pedophiles Prince Philip and a rapey Prince Charles and a minor queen. Me.

A boy with a black watch drinks a coconut.

I’m a college undergraduate…

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Does anyone remember that teary, fan-advocacy Leave Britney Alone viral video in 2007? 

It was an anthem first done in 1993 for Princess Diana.

Women, especially, didn’t like how The Princess was pursued by the paparazzi, which often times made her cry. I agree that it seemed unduly harsh on such a young woman.

I think they were trying to aggressively expose a disgusting and cruel Charles & Company.

Here, a Diana lookalike holds a bar and stands up in a supportive sweatshirt, me, with a baby behind her, me, and a protective Tom beside her.

Old creepy man (who he represents) with red flowers to be both Prince Philip and his son, Charles.

Elephant, as in infant, per Meghan’s teapot…

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Looney Tunes.

A beloved Princess, lady in red, can be photographed anywhere and she’s photographed near Disney characters and a bag-o-balls near her head where she sits on a couch with a checkered pattern with a young girl and her balloon animals on her lap.

It’s symbolism for what Prince Charles prefers, what he tried to do, and what is in store for their son, Harry.

And I'm The Blonde Princess...

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Kid Mindreaders.

A tender embrace with a girl wearing a headband, near the book, Heart of Britain, which is a collection of 300 winning photographs that benefitted the Royal Brompton Hospital. Princess Diana wrote the foreword to the book.

It also symbolizes, with the on-the-left suited man and blue Tom Handkerchief and book spines, what Charles wanted from a little girl and why he read little writergirl.

Getty is also mentioning the crown in the picture — Me…

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Online, Harry writes endlessly about landmines, which was a Princess Diana cause. Her son writes things like, “just blew my mine.” And: “blown to chunks.”

Perhaps more abridged, Harry writes to describe the impact of landmines: Wet Shrapnel.            

1997. Princess Diana is raising awareness on behalf of an American-based landmine network in Bosnia-Herzegovina for no reason whatsoever. Here, she’s choking a young girl.

I can’t stand how much kids loooved this woman which I can say because I’m confident, like other children pictured, this little girl didn’t know who I was. Tom is beside the girl, the blue-orange stripes are for Pedo Rapey Prince Charles and again Getty is showing me the crown to confirm that yes the little girl is Me who is the princess…

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Bloodsport.

2001. Notice the red finger guns on the left-hand side near the elbow and arrow that I have painted, the Tom lookalike in green burning holes into the duo, the older man with binoculars resting on a suit tie to mean Bi and Harry’s prized box.

The framed photograph will make for a nice Windsor-Sparkles family heirloom.

It looks like a champagne bottle near rapey Harry’s foot…

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Sad Teddy Bear Stag Do Walkabout Exit Through the Thrift Shop. 

Meghan passed her oral exam! This was his chance to thank the crowd one day before their womblike, stable home, remote, FaceTime business decision otherwise known as matrimony.

Notice the Meagan lookalike with the regal sliced cake hat and face expression, heroically positioned behind a gate post with a blue rectangular sticker, uterus-level, and three extended fingers.

Indicating Meghan’s paid role in the nuptials, what Tom should do, what Harry wants to do to a woman who is his mother, and who did the king pedo leashing all those years ago for my childlessness.

A tall Tom in the crowd just throwing absolute daggers…

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Another Baby Walkabout.

I wanted to post a recent photo to prove that the father, the British King, is still getting caught displaying his inner drive. This is 2023.

No limp-wristed sons, no old crone Queen, no problem.

What does Charlieboy care when his two favorite people are directly right behind him: Tom and I.

Here, The King and The Camera Shy Absent Queen are meeting with the British Bangladeshi community in East London, with Easter-looking decorations and the woman in the trench coat who, forgive me, with her hand, represents what the King tried to decree upon a little girl…      

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The Super Sale gala fundraiser, benefitting the Nina Hyde Center for Breast Cancer Research in Washington, DC with Ralph Lauren.

It looks like an ominous Alfred Hitchcock promotional still.

Princess Diana and model-actress Amber Valletta side-by-side on stage. Amber is being overshadowed yet protected by a climbing vine candle holder. If you looked at other photos during the same gala event you’d know that Diana is holding her speech behind her back to not only indicate the Mountbatten-Windsor paperwork that stole my life, but also that she is me and I am her and we are tethered. (Sadly, I know I’m not model Amber, but you get the point that it’s an underage Princess name.) Harry writes on Instagram posts of the same photo: Stay close to the English major who memorized the entire dictionary.

Cool. A bitchy slight about my nerdom and lack of love life.

A Tom silhouette on the left.

Getty writers wrote the wrong date of September 25, 1966 on all of the photos…

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From Pinterest.

Diana Frances Spencer.

That Harvard crewneck sweatshirt made famous by The Princess while she was jogging and out-running the paparazzi, which isn’t an altogether true statement.

What you see is at the end of her gym/running workout and you notice that it was staged because the photographers are dutifully set-up and waiting near a black car with tinted windows that has its engine already running, front wheel already turned. They know her end point.

The 27-second video I will link.

She’s bee-boppin down the street, snapping her fingers with a circular thumb-to-finger motion and swinging her arm, fast walking past Parking and Discount Flights and an ad for Champagne cost reduction in red paint with the Number 8, where she tap dances around the car bumper to slide into a driver’s seat to pull away that she then shows off her wrist through the window.

A couple of things.

On April 27, 1993, The Princess made an impassioned speech on eating disorders, specifically detailing her own struggles with bulimia that she described as a secret disease. She would talk about bulimia, again, in a 1995 BBC interview. She’s talking about my alma mater. That’s Charles following my every underage move.

She replaced stockings for Nike biker shorts, she got divorced in the late 1990s when she lived in a palatial estate with 24-hour royal staff that even her two young sons weren’t enough to make her stay, she’s dancing down the street because she’s sexing a Middle Eastern man, musically displaying Tom Cruise Code, conspiring with the once-hated London press… Annnnd I’m supposed to believe that she was a wilted passive princess who couldn’t read letters and emails?

Right.

I was on the Harvard campus in 1997. That’s Film Study. That’s Arc film. That’s Biz and I at the Harvard Film Archive... scroll down...

Harvard Sweatshirt Video Link:

If you pause the video at 17 seconds — right near motorcycles — the tax license plate is my home address.

This is me…  

Songs/Videos:

Cher — I Found Someone. She's saying Nope to the royal family about a young girl in the 1980s, in sexy chainmail.

Then, find the cruising pen-pal video for Take On Me, the song from A-ha, the Norwegian group. The band’s lead singer is a Tom lookalike and the female is a Princess Diana lookalike. Me. She trips and almost falls. Charles, in either a helmet or a miner hat. Wink-wink. Coffee, unpaid. The Italia posters, plural, on the wall. Pencil-sketch animation. Brilliant. I wish I noticed the pedo clues all those years, decades, back. What a life I could've had. The song was released on October 19, 1984. I was 11-years-old.

You’ll find it.

https://theonion.com/one-time-i-was-in-england-and-i-was-a-prince-and-my-mom-1849976518/

K

Hashtag and Attention charities and organizations:

#Archewell Foundation, Archewell Productions, WellChild UK, Archetypes podcast, Sentebale, The Invictus Games, Travalyst, BetterUp, The Royal Marsden Hospital, Prince William and The Royal Foundation, Homewards UK, The Earthshot Prize, The Royal Collection Trust, The King's Trust.

[lavelled]

I read that Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex, deficient in moral axioms, was a church pew speaker at the Nexus Global Summit in New York on Friday, where he discussed the impact of service (he’s a pre-teen cum writer), the importance of strong community, and he met with young leaders who will no doubt read his old-school Internet writing on forced morning wood and how he wants to rearrange your guts with his dick.

A direct quote.

The walking eunuch who himself speaks in snip-it code — that guy was invited to give a public lecture?

The guy who writes on Reddit: “Stop endorsing suicide hotlines. They don't work. The suicide hotline isn’t trustworthy.” — that guy was invited to speak to youth leadership?

I’m never in any hurry to do the reverse flip to Harry's sillyboy maim yourself Princess MILF random cutouts half-sword co-funeral daycare bleed out tantric tantrums only to come to the realization that these corporations are sending Tom Cruise a graceful lighted message.

I don’t flip. I’m a nonconformist.

Additionally, I can’t read your pedestrian message through the sharp sensations of Internet rape that he’s promising me.

At least the Summit organizers had the wherewithal to not invite your heirs-only beeswax housewife who can’t touch the Internet, but she can get down on her knees. That was good of them. At the forum you said that trolling is the nightmare of what Meghan's life has become. Vague wave of my hand to nothing in particular. Ah. What new onion satire. I know you mean Tom. But to just imagine for a second that she had cyber allowance to read what you write about her, oh lord.

Prince Harry also attacks super wealthy celebrities. He calls them Eccentric Billionaires. For him, it's misplaced ire aimed at my cousin, otherwise known as Tom Cruise because as a bleeding heart liberal he thinks I won’t defend rich, multi-talented humans. I’ve already proved that it’s you and your unscrupulous PR staff who are behind the unwarranted callousness toward Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos and his company, Filmmaker Tyler Perry, and now author, J.K. Rowling. Your pedophile payroll tries to diminish their significance. I’ve noticed the Twitter blowback, and while I did expose him as the typist behind the This-is-fake! royal wedding day tweet from her public account that he controls — I should have written in her defense years ago.

Everyone is familiar with Harry’s nonstop online and negative media coverage, trying, still, to label the British author a transphobic bigot. He writes: Financially supporting JKR harms the trans community.

It’s a libelous news web and conjecture based on the official male-line Mountbatten-Windsor pedophilia and how Tom protected a little girl decades ago and how Harry feels entitled to revenge sex. If you meander the Internet and are curious, and I wouldn’t recommend it for Ms. Rowling, you’ll notice that he refers to her as O.J. Rowling. He switches up her lovecraft book titles to include: Harry Potter and the Audacity of This Bitch. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Transkaban.

It’s all violent accusation code for Tom.

You’re a bit delayed with your magical world of anger, Harry, since Philosopher's Stone was released in 1997, exposing the Quidditch pedo 99-year-old family history of emotionally and sexually needing to relate to a child.

Joanne Rowling used initials for publication to appeal to young male readers she had hoped would be fans of the fantasy series. Not having a middle name herself, the K is from her grandmother, Kathleen. Joanne Kathleen Rowling from Yate, England. Who hates a female writer way over here. Joanne Rowling uses another male pen name, the alter ego of Robert Galbraith, for her crime series because she hates a female writer way over here. That’s two female-male literary names because she’s transphobic. There is a similarly named controversial psychiatrist, Dr. Robert Galbraith Heath, a man who claimed to be able to convert or heal by showing gay patients heterosexual pornographic material with implanted electrodes in the brain. He was born in Pennsylvania, served in the United States Navy, conducted anti-gay experiments, and died in Florida in 1999.

Huh.

It seems that a popular English author succeeded in revealing a gay British royal family attracted to school children through spellbook fantasy pages, encompassing the hardcore wizardry that is Charles, the good cruising model of a protective young Tom who was fancied, and the know-it-all voracious reader who knew nothing at all about the regal fluidity.

Prince Philip, King Charles, an assassinated great-uncle, and a sued Prince Andrew are the famous pedophiles, not Tom.

Prince Harry has no monarch duty or commonplace value.

I don’t have room for these.

K

Picture below:

This is what your kids put up with while he’s invited to speak at conferences, surrounded by laughter.

Now, you read it.

This is Prince Harry, 8 years ago on Reddit, getting paid to instruct adults and kids on how to hurt themselves with iphone wire; how to fashion a noose or tourniquet and intentionally reduce, cut or stop blood flow.

First comments and the instructions are for Tom, which Harry inks anywhere it can get the most impact.

Depressed Pizza. Depressed means princess. Poor little rich entitled Harry is mad that somebody has kept a princess far far away. Me.

In my talk, I offer this screengrab to the Summit panel… 

Picture below:

This is a Teenage Forum on Reddit. For teens. Who? Teens. What? Teens. I’ve highlighted it for adults with a big pointed arrow.

This is Prince Harry 12 years ago at 29-years-old, writing about decapitation and underage flesh on a teenage forum.

I’m sorry, who’s the pedophile?

In all of the movies that Tom Cruise has appeared in, only three of them co-star much younger actors. The symbolic number of 3 to represent what King Charles prefers. Interview with the Vampire, Jerry Maguire, and War of the Worlds.

And you’re openly writing about underage toplessness where your rival doesn’t hang out because he’s not a psycho.

From the Duke and Duchess of Sussex to Archewell Foundation and Archewell Productions and to Prince William…

Picture below:

Another pointed arrow for adults.

Aimed at the officer (metaphorically); two visible officers; notice the trained watchtower eyesight which is a laser at the young folks; and notice the sister grip she has on the blonde boy to her right.

Nobody wants Prince Charles within touchable distance of kids.

This is a black & white photo from 1969.

I’m not born yet…

Picture below:

This is November, 1992. I’m an undergraduate and this was their last official overseas trip together: a four-day royal tour to South Korea. Which is deliberately close to my name. The tour was widely seen as a failure. It was dubbed the Togetherness Tour in the press, ironically. Their marital separation was the following month in December.

Prince Charles wears a black crooked tie, a jacket wound, and a pink Tom Handkerchief. The Princess is looking downcast and wants to be anywhere else.

I’ve highlighted the description up there to prove that Getty, the company and their tech-savvy website writers, love to yell at me through their blinding punctuation errors that make me physically flinch.

I'm being loud, Getty Gatsby.

She's wearing a tiara and pearl earrings. Meaning an Earl, as in a much older man who prefers children is the true leasher. Ear and earrings can also mean Her.

Me...

Songs...

British band One Direction has the lovely song, Diana, which is featured on their album Midnight Memories. It was released on November 18, 2013. There is no official video for the song, but YouTube has a bright orange lyric video with a numerological view count. You’ll find it. I don’t really provide links.

It may not contain the name Diana, and songs don’t have to because that’s how art works, but Owl City, who is multi-instrumentalist Adam Young, has the song, Fireflies. Watching his music video directed by Steve Hoover is like watching Toy Story claymation during COVID, but in 2009, which is to say it’s elemental nostalgia done beautifully.

You'll find it.

This week, the last blog.

Attention the following Windsor charities: The Archewell Foundation, Archewell Productions, Archetypes podcast, Sentebale, The Invictus Games, Travalyst, BetterUp, The Earthshot Prize, The Royal Collection Trust, The King's Trust.

[lavelled]

There are way too many Getty Images as proof. I need a few days.

About those Tyler Perry lies in the headlines. Let me explain. Prince Harry is an unsalvageable placated spoiled serial rapist with nary a purpose in this life.

No. That doesn't do it justice.

With Tyler Perry Studios, he is the first African-American to own a major film production studio. His Madea films, a letter switcheroo, take its source material from the tragic play of the ancient Greek playwright Euripides, which looks like the words pedo and rape. It's about the princess of the kingdom of Colchis, located on the Black Sea. Defined by jealousy and rage, the princess takes vengeance on her ex-husband by hurting his new wife in a political, feminist way: with a crown and poisoned garments that begin to burn through her skin. Huh. Not your typical comedy then. One of the famous quotes from that Greek play, Euripedes' Medea, is: “I want him crushed, boneless, crawling — I have no choice.”

I like it.

Where was I? Mr. Perry, the awful human being. Right.

Tyler Perry’s other movies are: Good Deeds, Daddy's Little Girls, A Fall from Grace, The Family That Preys, and Peeples, among others. Notice anything? I’m supposed to believe that this actor-writer-producer-director, a man who grew up in abject poverty where I’ve read footnotes of his own childhood abuse, who somehow became a self-made billionaire from nothing and who legally changed his name from Emmitt and thus has helped an unknown girl way over here has now aligned himself with, of all fuckbuddiesdotcom couples, you and Duchess Twinkle when you’re the evil incarnate? No. He’s not your FaceTime kid’s godfather either. Your PR team must internalize the cruising code of the Perry-ness and then authorize the sexual abuse allegations in a fever dream. Tyler Perry is not and has never been an abuser or sexual abuser.

Prince Harold on that dizzying Ask Reddit forum. It’s a form of bile that always rises up. Psychotic questions because of his gran and that implicates Prince Philip and Charles.

Clever.

When did you notice that your maternal longing was fully addressed mental illness? Have you gotten that DNR tattoo on your neck yet? Why do you graffiti the world with your generational lies when you can just scrapbook? Does Charlotte and Liz know about precum language and have they been accosted by a uterus-stealing verbal code in their daily lives yet? Are you still selling leftover fruit as jam on street corners? How is it possible that a supporting actress with butter knife Nutella Insta posts and a wet mouth was able to write a New York Times bestseller? Why do you write fanfiction on how to deftly suck a cock? What dosage of pain pills do you and your charities take when you’re the September 11th Elementary School tragedy guy? Dead Man Walking, a film or GPS coordinates? How often does King Charles think of Tom when he gazes at Cammie?

You’re right. Questioning the universe feels good.

I don’t have room for these.

K

Picture below:

This is what your kids look at, and now you read it too. Fun, right?

It was always going to be a Megan Hole. Any hole. And all other Megs told him to fuck off.

He’s under the impression that it’s his mother’s name. It’s not. Only two people in the world have her name and I’m the other one.

That said, my name isn’t manager. And I’ll confess certain things when I want, how I want.

This is Humanitarian Prince Harry talking about vintage King Dick, cutting, bleeding, and an identityless Meg Blah, from 11 years ago...

Picture below:

Sawblade.

Harry writes on Reddit: If you can't get a girl, get a Grammar boy. Indeed. When he was 17, Then-Prince Charles spent two terms at Timbertop. He got aroused by and liked much younger boys as the photographer deliberately points out, with my arrow. Woodchuck holds a saw with his non-watch hand. Near his pedophile dick. Near a shoe. Two fingers on the right.

Tom didn’t have pedophile urges, nor has anyone photographed slicing off Tom’s dick.

In 1966, long before I was born… 

Picture below:

Portraits of a Mother.

Boo. Find the mammaries. Really, they’re everywhere. Divorce news, forgive me, from stuffy if not reserved British journalism, which makes it that much more interesting. Either Charles wants an undergraduate for himself or for his little son and requests that someone goeth forth and fetch this human of like age (whaaa?) and she be brought henceforth. This is December 1995 and Charles is 47.

Charles is threatening Tom Cruise with the help of a queen, thus admitting to baby/child attraction…

Picture below:

Pupil, but could have easily written student in the description.

A little boy with a green dot on his sneaker to represent climbing higher on the generational pedo ladder, a little kid protected by Tom who is her Italian cousin. A car door ajar and a U-shaped handle. Two cameras. Security gold chains. A bald man way in the back, over a shoulder.

I loved her, but the underage child is The Blonde Princess. Me.

Probably about Charles desiring a young Tom, too.

Blood-red flower wound…

A melody...

Dirty Diana. A Michael Jackson song. Of course it’s a song. I was 14. He’s singing No over and over. He described the song that he wrote as a vignette about groupies, but it seems like it’s in defense of a little girl who got caught in the middle of a much older man’s unrequited love for a straight actor. In the concert music video, he’s literally wearing a piece of dangling rope and his fingers are taped. A woman in the dark is near a parked car, shockingly.

The longer blog. I’ll write soon — you know, when I want to.

Attention royal charities who ignore his social media use: The Parents' Network, The Archewell Foundation, Archewell Productions, Archetypes podcast, Sentebale, The Invictus Games Foundation, Travalyst, BetterUp, The Earthshot Prize, The Royal Collection Trust, The King's Trust.

[lavelled]

Something happened on the front page news. This week was especially dire and sad about a beloved chef. What the hell is going on. I hope it has nothing to do with this blog.

I revealed that my toddler life was stolen by a much older man who had a special soft spot for young Tom Cruise, and it was the boy attraction that was the motive for the crime.

The 23andMe Princess connection has been revealed, in a green football jacket and other references.

Prince Harry writes “ur my mum” everywhere on the darknet and on mugs and tee-shirts, thus, it’s not a secret.

TOM. Tom. I’m writing a wrap-up blog, even though I don’t wish to be a part of anything that may contribute to the citation erasure of this high-profile and revered woman.

I’ll write a closing whodunit blog full of mystery that's been solved with a clear admission and photographic evidence because as the chosen fetus scribe, who is now a middle-aged adult without the love and life I feel I’ve deserved all along, I have to fight the kingdom that wears a bloodstained crown when I really just want to see my faraway folks and not be in a computer.

Also, I’m not totally convinced Charles even likes Harry. Does he? Do they?

I read that little Prince Louis sat on the lap of grandpa Charles in a touching moment during Trooping the Colour on Saturday. I winced, until I read the sentence that followed:

“Aside from the obvious use of Charles as a middle name, the name Louis is thought to be a tribute to the King's beloved uncle, Louis Mountbatten, who was assassinated by the IRA in 1979.”

A news outlet actually printed that pedophile assassination fact — and the world didn’t end. My smile for the week. Such conventional British respectability where an identityless Rachel Meghan fits in perfectly.

K

A few screengrabs and Getty.

Deleted Instagram...

Is her throat sore? Teacup Duchess and the A to Z Aquarium Zebra Puzzle, this was before she married into the rapist pedophile family.

You can google this or continue with your daily lives, which is the smarter choice, but Harry confirmed their relationship publicly in November 2016. This is timestamped November 2016 and her data entry computer work is still the Tom methodology, she’s using pedo code, and is single.

Prince Harry re-uploaded it because making their marital fabrications hypervisible and permanent on the internet is evergreen business.

Elephant infant teapot because pedophilia…

A math maze of violent rosebud threats and suicidal encouragement for Tom and others.

This is from a few days ago.

His firsty threats. Still.

On Reddit, from the humanitarian and calm philosopher…

Royal staffers: Can his public encoded Internet threats get any more direct and blatant?

Why yes.

This is what your kids look at.

This is freshly created for Tom Cruise…

After publishing a blog containing the self-harm of a beloved fashion pioneer, The Meghan Markle Team displayed their client holding a handbag front-and-center accompanied with verse. Which I took to mean the helpful editorial code of The Blonde Princess And Me.

But I also deemed it a bit insensitive, given the macabre material I had just breathed into the world, which is stressful for me week after week.

So with that in mind, here is a Philip Phlop bag as a reminder that you’re on the payroll of an entrenched pedophile family notorious for voyeuristic pleasures as caught by Getty and her underage Belfast Charlotte Elizabeth purse taken from one of their suicide tours…

Picture below:

Adrienne. The Calling. Song.

I put whatever song from the musical world I want next to the picture palette because I may be sending hidden messages to certain folks, or I really like the cool song.

I was too young to be the bedroom inspiration for the elder Telegram Mountbatten-Windsor men. To be The Princess in the 1990s would be uncouth; in the 1980s it would be criminally actionable; and younger would be intercourse fucking an ultrasound baby photo.

I was 8 when your parents got married, Harry.

I loved her, but the motherliness is about a young and protective Tom towards me.

Notice the Mercury marine engine that encompasses a triad of main players, walkie talkies, elbows, star-print swimsuit, bodyguard with a watch and that dude way over there, see him, behind the boulder.

That’s not my red dot…

I’ll write soon.

Attention Duke Sussex charities: Archewell Foundation, Archewell Productions, Archetypes podcast, Sentebale, The Invictus Games, Travalyst, BetterUp, The Earthshot Prize, The Royal Collection Trust, The King's Trust.

[lavelled]

I find myself having to defend a presidential administration I don’t regularly agree with, but because Prince Harry Mountbatten-Windsor is a professional liar, a pedo stand-in, a would-be rapist, and a paid cybercriminal that he disrupted political life once again. I’m in that precarious position to explain to our rich entitled brat what it means when a woman says No.

I'm explaining consent to an adult male who stole forty years of my life so he could write about Facesitting in textspeak on behalf of a British royal family while I have no grown-up choices, nothing. The undoing isn’t my responsibility.

But here it goes.

Harry: you’re no longer under cover.

You’ve exposed your own grandfather, your father, King Charles, uncles aplenty and their good friends for having the notorious hobby of procuring minors in letters and pictures for erections.

Your family has tested positive for elements of Elementary ingrained pedophilia and sustained rape culture. The Royal Household, the Mountbatten-Windsor Family, Charles, William and Harry believe in that gradual, underage, non-reciprocal and dishonest sexual love of being passed down through generations on the hard principles of revenge for their own inappropriate feelings toward three people.

You don’t help the world, Harry. You don’t adhere to any work-life boundaries. All you do is lie about your grandfather and father’s sexual attraction for children, repeat offenders, which has been immortalized everywhere from Getty Imagery to Flickr to literature, music, and movies. I’m guessing for a century, given that Prince Philip was 99 when he died.

You continue to prove your unworthiness by posting a Youth Orchestra chorus of Epstein lies with no evidence of sexual crimes toward the individual and individuals you write in seasick code for Tom.

We all see through your in-house family appreciation posts that disrupt world issues.

Your father holds infantile paperwork, still, you inherited a roadblock, and everybody hates your family dripping in white privilege and old money. Feel better now, tech guy?

What I take from it is further shame and incrimination upon your own father, King Charles, in your characteristic pucker of words, signifying nothing.

You’re reacting angrily because the really big bomb has dropped. On the House of Windsor. Everybody knew. Everybody knows.

You don’t deserve the dignity and hushed chuckles that you’re frustratingly given on a silver platter, but deep inside you must know, everybody that you meet, everybody in your employ, your debunked charities that could use an aspirin, they all know that your Dad prefers clean-kitchen, fresh human inkprint and pictures at bedtime. Does this make you shut your trap? You say absolutely not. You continue to be a useless pain and cause major societal, financial, and political infighting because the one person who can dramatically expose the truth has — and because that middle-age girl is on public record saying No to the man who killed her personal and professional dreams.

Yeah. Women can be unreasonable like that.

You had to figure a woman now at 52 would have misgivings about a potential partner who stole her life and uterus and watched kids fatally hurt themselves while he made a family for himself.

Shockingly, your new social-distancing family has failed to humanize you even the slightest.

Your father, Charlie Boy, in the 1970s, was never going to be husband material for me as I was an infant during all of the approximate dates. You can’t correct the misdeeds of your elders by normalizing unromantic baton passing that you call gangbanging four decades later when you knew what I wanted to do with my life. You’re a cybercriminal who refuses to grow up, you somehow skipped math class, and you’re still angling for sexual violence.

If Tom and my cousin were as you describe, fairy closet bangers, wouldn’t that be acceptable as they are in the same peer group? What is your deal with consensual love? Your str8 guys and str8 tops (his words) internet colloquialism is just homophobic conjecture.

The Windsor Family members are famous for their serial sexual lubrication and arousal from tweens reading comic books. It was photographed and documented before I was even born. Your much older Papa and other Mountbatten-Windsor relatives are known for salivating over underage sorority fraternity dorming mates, so give it a rest. Both you and your escort accomplice, William, should make some internal peace with your decades-long stance that causes everyday violence because it will follow Wills long after Charlie Polaroid Walkman leaves this earth.

How’s the Duchess Rachel White, the partner you bought off the auction site, Soulless Express? The checkout counter hole. The skin buddy hired for dicktown. I mean, Disneyland. No I mean, dicktown.

It’s painful to watch your PR team write about influence and fandoms when the actress is paid only to bake aged tea cakes and suck the dick of pedo sexist rapist digital nomad known as Henryville.

Cool hospital neonatal twerks video.

You should put it on a VHS tape. It’ll make a nice gift for Liz on her 17th birthday when she learns that her doodad prince could’ve fallen in love and married a respectable aristocrat, but instead purchased a bitchy discounted womb on eBay. Since your offspring is associated with historical pedophilia, kid and celebrity suicides, school campus shootings, and ongoing national tragedies, it should be interesting to see them confined to a botanical jail as two products of homebody homeschooling. God help us.

I’m sure palace aides are ever so grateful pink-eye couple released a social media video of that tweaking nature for The Parents' Network on behalf of The Archewell Foundation.

Does anyone remember the Got Milk campaign? Often stylized as Got Milk? It was launched in 1993 for the California Milk Processors Board by an advertising agency based in San Francisco. I was an undergraduate. The milk commercials were directed by Michael Bay, the Hollywood director known for his action-packed, high-octane movies, who was born on February 17, which probably means an autumn cup or mug of birthday liquid. And something about blood, memory, and cutting. The commercials were so popular and showed nationwide that they earned him a prestigious Grand Prix Clio Award for Commercial of the Year. The Got Milk tagline, phrase, its commercials and print advertisements had celebrities sporting milk moustaches to maximize milk production and to promote the importance of life’s most precious gift: eating breakfast with milk. If I looked closer at the dairy ads, I perhaps would’ve noticed that the words splashed over the magazine pages were about gulp and gulping and that the celebrities had milk on their upper lip. As in, Pedophile Prince Charles needs to imagine young children and young people in apprenticeship programs to cum and to compensate for the difficulties of living inside a palatial house. In 2020, the milker campaign was revived during COVID because the Mountbatten-Windsor family members are still to this day trying to normalize underage mother's milk and justify cutting off the life support of the one woman in the whole damn class who should’ve been allowed to live her life.

The common thread is that Hollywood, its actors, directors, singers, models, athletes, this is the community — whether out of nostalgia or loyalty to Tom — that has been lambasting the royal family from the start and raised a milk glass to the girl with the movie dreams way over here to help solve an interlocking puzzle wrapped in paper and to remind everybody of necessary calcium and a sour expiration date. I do see it. I just wish it was thirty years ago.

Prince Harry calls it: the Guilded Cage.

Nothing like watching an underserving son of a notable cruising kink pedophile receive accolades, awards and employment while he openly mocks your dead aspirations online.

His most recent Twitter meltdown gives me the opportunity to show in Getty pictures how the Prince and Princess traveled to Italy for a 17-day tour in the 1980s because admitting to jacking off to little kids by candlelight and cigarette lighter is smart business for the British crown.

I also wanted to give people the amplified microphone.

K

Was Megs set to be honored at the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles, but it got postponed due to the protests? I'm sorry about that. A delay in unveiling her self-portraits titled, Permission to Get Throat Waxed By My Master Who Caused the Sandy Hook Tragedy.

Although, I’m guessing it was just you trying to buy credibility with an unsolicited donation.

Duchess Twerkle has no say in royal or charitable life; she cannot read the news; she cannot attain literacy in this bookclub corner; she cannot touch the Internet. Her Instagram is solely operated by Harry.

She cannot speak freely per royal contracts. All her speeches are written for her by Grammarly. The Sussexes don’t live in Montecito and they don’t live together.

Meghan knew what horsey Charles is famous for, and it rhymes with kiddie porn. She knew of the tower and child tragedies and the Hollywood suicides and everything in between. She’s known of a middle-aged girl with absolutely nothing and what family put her on the IKEA bookshelf for four decades.

This is her old Insta-happy Instagram where she lavishes the tech prince with obsessive Windsor-isms before marriage in a new kind of modern feminism that ruins her name-value and reputation.

Seasoned with irony...

In 2012, she is demonstrating a slashed father-son cover-up on a basketball court. With fallen autumn leaves about a little girl. She is vowing to help a pedophile. Nine years and counting. Harry deleted this post, and then re-uploaded it because he is empty, trapped, and has no motivating force or purpose in this life… 

The big royal wedding.

For Grandfather King Charles: your daughter-in-law is a donkey and rides a donkey. Or a mule. That’s not a smart, strong, durable animal. That’s not a horse. That’s a weak mini-pet that is now your bloodline along with your useless dumb dickless cybercriminal son. On a yellowed traffic lane and a Tom twin behind the portrait, iPhone scrolling. Always Fresh. More Convenient.

A slice of lime…

Harry calls it Villa Windsor.

This is the UK television presenter and reporter team of Mark Wright and Terri Seymour. He is a younger Tom Cruise doppelganger and former professional footballer wearing all black, with a gold watch and phone and she, in a pretty yellow summery dress, is caught mimicking Meghan’s royal role and the clean, fresh, aquatic reason why the world is stitched together in violent castle kinship: King Charles…      

The royal wedding of Humpty Dumpty.

It’s a happy cycle.

Under the Union Jack flag, two biker buds in shorts representing a young Tom and a young Cousin, with an older sad-faced gentleman in front of them. Charles. An X on one leg.

Outdoor wall clock and Vantage in the description…

Picture below:

The Resolution. Jack's Mannequin. Song.

Gloucester, MA, a fishing town where they filmed the movie, The Perfect Storm, directed by Wolfgang Petersen. This is the Bananas Vintage Clothing Store. I’ve circled the store name in the window down there, displaying the trample couple in which the bride appears to have doubled. Two subject matters. Two cunts instead of bananas. Maybe a cut banana. That’s just banananomics. Nice photography illusion. And two grooms, meaning Tom is the shadow Harry can’t escape from.

A dogwalking couple…

Picture below: She’s in heels, to give you some added dimension.

Whenever you see the telenovela headlines in news articles that contain the words: bossy behavior, rude shocking video, bully crews on set, fire-breathing demanding diva, sworn enemy Montecito neighbors — remember this Snuffleupagus fursuit and don’t click. He dressed her. All those real yet fake buzzwords are journalistic lies and orgy code for Tom by Prince Harry. He calls the shots. She’s not a boss of anything other than the etiquette of saying things like, “pedo dick needs sucks now?”

The Windsor Family prefers women to be subdued, obedient, and controllable.

Notice the hero photographer’s name for the esteemed event…

A trip to Australia and about my Aunt even though she’s Gigi, but I get the point. Up, up, up.

For their part, I have to say, Getty always captured The Princess looking affectionately (maternal) at a young girl in the crowd. A police officer, known as a didgeridoo (I think? It’s not. I just wanted to type that), near a light-haired kid who is very closely watching an older Prince crouching tigerly near underage children as if the boy knows something. He does. It’s Tom.

There’s a knee visible under the prince’s squat. He needs something to do something. Fill in the blank.

This is March 1983. Harry’s not born yet. I’m only ten…

Same trip to Australia and The Princess is in a flowery dress, swarmed by little girls and v-shaped elbows in buckled schoolgirl dresses. Charles must be in small class size heaven. This is gross.

Three visible young boys. The one with the camera I take to be a protective Tom. The taller one is my cousin. And one in the corner, in a ballcap, looking upward. Prince Philip.

Prince Charles, with what I hope is a neck cramp, is only visible through an extended arm and… can’t… reach… must… tip… toe...  my imaginary boyfriends. Or, as his son, Harry, puts it via a WordPress blog he thinks I can’t see: mini-toiletries.

I’m still only ten…

Thus begins their 17-day tour of Italy in 1985. Palazzo. Duomo. Opera. The whole tour.

I’m sure she’d prefer to roam around Rome, but noooo he has her, again, in a bow tight-collared, waist-tight dress and pantyhose in a military stance, standing on grass. In a cemetery.

Photo by Jayne Fincher. Wide spread legged sailor in the background. At one point, the couple goes aboard the Amerigo Vespucci, the Italian Navy training ship for no reason whatsoever…

In Florence. Signatures to burn down their castle in the name of justice and what is owed.

Red sweater bullet holes; Italian flag belt.

He looks like he’s wearing a pinky ring…

Children’s Hospital.

Outfit by British fashion designer, Bruce Oldfield. Old? In 2023, Oldfield was chosen by Camilla to design her coronation gown. Twats.

Bent-over a desk, it’s her time to sign the visitor guest book, a gentleman behind her, green phone, two owls on the top shelf. About Papa Charles…

Picture below:

King Charles’ Wishlist.

Amid all the Getty words, no mention of grandpa Charles.

A student-faculty interaction at an Italian school for the deaf. A sinful cornered Prince Charles is heavily blocked. By three Mafia relatives. Youngsters Tom and cousin and the girl with the sex-colored glasses and green magic markers.

Oh, the orange pedo balloon is out of his reach…

Don't Stand So Close To Me. The Police. Song. Check out their video on YouTube. Chalkboard, schoolwork, ladders, ties, and Sting, who is 73-years-old. It was released in September 1980. I was 7. “Wet bus stop, she's waiting/His car is warm and dry...”

It’s not about me.

Still in Italy. Prince Charles is dreaming of minor cars and cruises and not being able to touch them. Just like the son.

Touchstone photo by John Shelley… 

Sicilia.

This is where the royal couple went in the 1980s. Sicily. Because they’re British. At the walled Greek Amphitheatre in Siracusa, Sicily. They gifted her, a coral bracelet and him, a Sicilian urn.

Those were the gifts.

One leaf…

Amphitheatre, Sicilian gentleman, lady attendant with bright blue hat and v in her dress to signify who is the load of rubbish underage 1980s dog leasher (Charles), and the triplicate leaves are picture-map downwards to include Prince Philip.

Notice the misplaced comma between “theatre” and “during” in the description…

Picture below:

How We Operate. Gomez. Song.

Still on their Prince and Princess Italian 1980s tour. Now in Venice and nowhere in the text description does it explain why there’s a Dalmatian, alone, on a gondola near a carabinieri police boat or why a professional photographer would capture it. Business as usual for a pedo leashing married British prince in Venice with his wife.

Have I mentioned that white-haired Charles holds the agreement?

May 5th…

Back in England. Polo.

Prince Charles is readjusting himself, below the belt, with what looks like a jar of milk chocolatey liquid of repressed sexuality. His Number 4 shirt is labelled: Les Diables Bleus polo team.

She’s greeting a female friend wearing an interlocked handbag near a horse.

And Tom’s standing guard in front of the prince…

1990. Japan. He’s useless and asleep standing upright, and she’s wearing a comfortable and sensible sun visor/half-veil. I consider it highly disrespectful and I think it’s about me.

Writergirl is a senior in high school (17). With a creased spinal cord attachment to Tom.

A pencil-thin booklet on the left…

I remember this famous photograph that mysteriously reappeared during this year’s Super Bowl. The Philadelphia Eagles. The U or V-shaped elbow patch under the helmet.

I acknowledge that it’s about Hawkgirl, but it’s also a stylistic nod to pedophilia and retribution from a much older prince to an actor when I shouldn’t have been connected to a much older man in the first place. And so, a lifetime later, thirty years give or take, it makes me really really sad to think that my life was made so meaningless and difficult by one family of privilege. And it reminds me of the people we’ve lost.

She holds a red bag and a clear green ziploc to put the puzzle pieces in, near two newsboys...

The Princess returned to Italy on October 13, 1996 to receive a humanitarian award for her charity work, she earned a gold prize for her work with the elderly.

This is a human chain of protection; the tied men are literally holding hands to ensure her public safety.

Police officers, cameras, photographer with my sister’s name, a couple of Toms scattered throughout, especially near the nondescript tomboy in the way back sporting a red dot. I think that’s me.

Notice in the description the words Italy and The…

Picture below:

Gone Too Soon. Daughtry. Song.

Here is a succinct biographical summary for younger readers to explain why some people get upset that this woman left us at 36. She was shy, but a strong symbol. She took dangerous landmine walks, she showed physical emotion and affectionate compassion towards AIDS patients, thus destigmatizing the disease, she held hands with Mother Teresa, she learned and used sign language, she blended masculinity with femininity and wore power suits and a tuxedo, she was rumored to have gone to a gay bar with Freddie Mercury, she divorced the miserable knot, she was photographed sunbathing which wasn’t considered princess-y and she was on the taller side and athletic. The arm muscles!

William looking down to indicate father and grandfather pleasure, wearing the word totally, a slash on his leg, near a bent-over man with three dots on his shirt.

Little Harry with a firsty clause at that real romantic love directly into the heart sexual age of 13.

Behind him is who I believe is me, and a bodyguard Tom…       

Picture below: Fabio Piras, 20, a Sardinian (near Sicily) tourist is said to have stolen a teddy bear that was left as a tribute to The Princess 10 days after her death, outside St. James's Palace in London, stating he intended to give it to his girlfriend.

A London judge fined him $160 and he was punched in the face by the man behind him, Gerard Moorehouse, a native Scot, who happened to be at a nearby pub with his wife Elizabeth at the time.

Two Slovakian tourists were each given a 28-day prison sentence for having taken eleven teddy bears.

All three Getty images of Fabio are horizontally rolled sideways, as if to say that it began not with a little girl but with a very young man who told Charles no thank you.

The whole incident seems steeped in coded symbolism. Back in 1997.

Notice the flower necklace…

This is Emad El-Din Mohamed Abdel Mena'em Fayed, known as Dodi Fayed. He was an Egyptian film producer and the eldest son of billionaire Mohamed Al-Fayed, the owner of Hôtel Ritz Paris, Harrods the famous department store, and Fulham Football Club.

Dodi produced blockbuster hit movies like Chariots of Fire, which won an Oscar in 1982.

Dodi was The Princess’ boyfriend who died with her in the 1997 car crash when they were vacationing in Paris. He was 42.

Dodi Fayed was first cousins with the journalist Jamal Khashoggi, the prominent Saudi journalist at The Washington Post who was ambushed, forcibly restrained, injected with a drug, suffocated, dismembered and disposed of, according to reports.

Here, Dodi is just casually posing on a wooden stump, hands clasped near his lap while wearing a watch in Los Angeles California as the producer, of all movies, Chariots of Fire.

He also produced the 1991 film, Hook, directed by Steven Spielberg.

On behalf of the Al-Fayed family, Tom has the green light…

Picture below: This is Chris Cornell. He was lead vocalist, guitarist, and the songwriter for the rock bands Soundgarden, Audioslave, and Temple of the Dog.

He, too, displayed the rockstar in-solidarity knee-bend. The albums that he has songwriter credit on are: Superunknown, Revelations, Morning, Carry On, Scream, Songbook, and Higher Truth, just to give an example of his artistic themes. One of his most popular songs is, Black Hole Sun.

I’ve had his song, Fell On Black Days, on my iPod for years, not realizing that his dark and intense red-yarn lyrics were exposing the ladder of monstrosity. He is said to have the considered the song the realization that you’re not as happy as you used to be. Or, that “everything in your life is fucked.”

On May 18, 2017 he was found dead on the bathroom floor of his Detroit hotel room from suicide by hanging with an elastic exercise band around his neck.

This is him performing on Harriet Island.

On behalf of Chris, his family and Soundgarden and Audioslave, Tom has the green light…

This is Katherine Noel Valentine Brosnahan Spade, known professionally as Kate Spade. She was the co-founder and co-owner of the American designer brand Kate Spade.

She is known for her handbags — cool, attainable, functional handbags — but also clothing, jewelry, shoes, stationery, eyewear, diaper bags, and Kate Spade at Home. She was a household name.

One of Kate's early designs, released in 1993, was the Sam bag, made from nylon.

She seemed real and not uppity or pretentious, even though she built a fashion empire and her net worth is estimated to be around 200 million.

On June 5, 2018, she died from suicide by hanging, with a scarf reportedly used to tie to a doorknob. She was 55. Two days after Kate’s death, her husband, Andy Spade, left their NYC apartment wearing a mouse mask from the cartoon movie, The Rescuers, clutching a coffee mug and a green notebook tucked under his arm and sporting a yellow backpack. It's googleable.

Kate killed herself 17 days after Harry & Meghan’s wedding.

On behalf of Kate, her husband and their daughter, and her niece actress Rachel Brosnahan, Tom has the green light… 

This is Chef Anthony Bourdain. As a graduate of the famed Culinary Institute of America and executive chef at Brasserie Les Halles, a classic French bistro in Manhattan, and the author of The New York Times best-selling book, Kitchen Confidential, he became a media darling with several programs on television. 35 episodes on a show for the Food Network and in 2005, he began hosting the travelogue show, No Reservations, for the Travel Channel.

At six foot four, Bourdain practiced the martial art Brazilian jiu-jitsu, earning a blue belt in August 2015, and competed in the New York Spring International Open Championship and won gold.

On June 8, 2018, he was found dead from suicide by hanging in his room at Le Chambard Hotel in Kaysersberg-Vignoble.

In this photo, the chef is reading the newspaper, eating a sandwich in parchment paper with a pink café cup, a wooden pepper mill, baguettes in a heart-shaped brown bag, a framed gunshot wound, and overturned chairs.

Bourdain killed himself 20 days after Harry & Meghan’s wedding.

On behalf of Mr. Bourdain and his family and his culinary family, Tom has the green light…

Twilight Zone. Ariana Grande. Song.

The Manchester Arena bombing was an Islamic terrorist suicide bombing in Manchester, England, in the arena foyer, near the entrance doors, at the end of an Ariana Grande concert on May 22, 2017.

22 people were tragically killed, and it left 250 wounded. It was the deadliest terrorist attack on UK soil since the 2005 London bombings, also referred to as 7/7, which were calculated suicide attacks on London's public transport during the morning rush hour. 52 people died.

Salman Abedi, 22, was a British-Libyan citizen who died from blast injuries while undertaking the terror attack. Carrying a large backpack, he detonated an improvised homemade explosive device containing nuts, bolts and shrapnel. The youngest victim was only eight years old. A 14-year-old. 15. An 18-year-old student. A 32-year-old woman. Middle-aged parents were killed as they waited to pick up their children from the concert.

In this photo, there are bouquets of flowers, handwritten letters in holed paper, a fleur-de-lis, and a fuzzy bumblebee. The Manchester bee became a symbol of resilience, remembrance and unity following the bombing to show solidarity as the city used to be known for their hardworking worker-bee mentality during the cotton mill Industrial Revolution. Perhaps for something else, too.

On behalf of Manchester, Ariana, and the victims and their families, Tom has the green light…

Picture below:

Snowball Fights with Snowshoers.

This is Prince Charles getting criss-crossed with a cross-country skier on powder near his nether region.

The other skier, perhaps security, looking haughty, the one wearing the tactical fanny pack and balancing himself on peach-colored ski poles, isn’t paid enough to be bothered to offer his royal assistance at this time as he’s on holiday but thank you.

In the description, it says that this photo is undated. Not true.

On the right, which I cover with digital paint because it’s all pricing information, sorry Getty, it clearly states that this photo was taken on January 1, 1980.

Tom is 17. I am 7-years-old. And it’s about an erection… 

Australia. Teen’s Whole Face In Mouth.

Prince Charles, the only royal with the paperwork, who picked me only because of Tom, is getting the Prep Academy teen lip-smacking devoured greeting that he’s famous for.

The amorous couple, the watch, the handkerchief and the MEN sign near a gate.

That said, I’m a baby and this photo isn’t about me. Aaaand I’m done…

Harry, you want me to be the partner and cuddle buddy to the person who turned my letters, emails and dreams into long delayed action, who filled up a jar with my notes, you misled me online, you hacked my mother, my father, you made me get rejected and humiliated by society and the one professional community where I think I belong, you devalued me, and you know your coffee and cream rants and pedophilia spats on social media have real-time results but you ink them anyway as you continue to expose your family’s Rock Hudson Shirley Temple secrets.

It’s not bisexual, it’s blocksexual.

You can’t write your way out of this hole with concocted verse. It’s out. In photo albums and a baby book.

Growing up, didn’t you ever object to this secondhandness with a lack of consent that your father bestowed upon you? Did you ever consider it was rape culture as you watched the nightly news and videos of bombings, suicides, killings, child internet porn charges, divorces, travel mishaps, and those tower disasters?

You could’ve found love somewhere, anywhere in your royal privilege. All you did was waste my life and create a pumpkin fucks family. My love life would've been real.

Telling a woman what to do with her body isn’t an emotional appeal. I’m not part of your advocacy agenda. You don't tell me what to do. To my understanding, there are ranks. And so, you can take your hack non-hack YouTube NoViews and your ancestral pedophilia wetness and shove them so far up your vindictive, computer files arsehole that the world feels the ripples of shock.

Your family’s school-wide mathematical minds and preferences are well-documented among the tides of history.

This is an old story: King Charles in England holds celebrity and royal paperwork and an agreement of forced sexual liaisons stemming from the 1980s that stops the progress of society; it encourages crime; it upsets and harms your children, your career and sometimes your marriage.

His spoiled creature wormy expendable son covered for him, made it seem like the world owed their family something. Tried to use a pass. Whatever that means. It's a no.

I want my life back.

In these Getty Images, in these blogs, Tom is portrayed over and over as the protector. There must be a reason for that.

This is between you and Tom now.

K

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=irK0Su5SE2Y

The original song was released on October 31, 1975. It's about Pedos Prince Philip and his son, Charles.

See also: #Archewell Foundation, Archewell Productions, Archetypes podcast, Sentebale, The Invictus Games, Travalyst, BetterUp, The Earthshot Prize, The King's Trust.

[lavelled]

Prince Harry’s response to maternal loss is to embellish his bereavement, pretending that he’s scarred for life. He will talk about her at the podium of graveside speeches during public events, indoor events, and awards season.

On Instagram. Twitter. Reddit. Amazon. YouTube descriptions, comments, and tags. TikTok. Truth Social. Goodreads. IMDb movie reviews. Yelp reviews. Shopping lists. On a selfie. He writes: I could smother you in your sleep. I’ve caught him leaving messages on other people’s blogs as Numila Parker. I’ve caught him pretending to be everything from an elementary student to a high school blogger navigating sluthood.

Prince Harry is an apolitical sex fiend internet personality disguised as royalty.

Harry was born into a castle of babydoll dresses and muscular visitors and the male relatives who licked their lips. Strapped to his chair, in all his iFucking digital cum work, he couldn't even cover up the Mountbatten-Windsor grooming and pedophilia that has followed his entire family in literature, art, and the real world throughout generations.

There are Royal Getty Images in private shoots and regular features from the 1960s that preserve your family’s lineage of selection and pedophilia, the erections from newsboys and training bras. Then, there is that business of an assassination of Prince Charles's great-uncle and confidant, Lord Mountbatten, a known pedophile. Your family is the worst kept secret in Great Britain.

Men liking athletic boys. Men liking little girls in tulle skirts. Was any of their child attraction dramatized in The Crown? The House of Windsor elders grumbled in throne chairs and sexualized a little girl in horizontal terms who crafted a sentence with stickers, got pretty good grades as she aged, and was as far away from any high status you can possibly imagine so she wouldn’t be able to puzzle through until adulthood. Or, middle-age. Tom, younger and better-looking and straight and with three sisters of his own, liked my letters in an appropriate way and had to make a gentlemanly decision per Prince Charles, who tried to whore me out. It seems the whole world agrees that a level-headed Tom was justified in his actions, given your family history. Nobody tells a girl who to love or who to fuck. At any age. Before a car chase or after.

I’m guessing Charles, the prince with an older vibe to him, thirty years older, who likes boys and girls, was jealous of the fame, the aesthetics, and the pen-pal-ship of Tom Cruise and I think Prince Philip, liking boys and girls, felt scorned, too.

Sexually speaking, your family is pro-rape culture and you should never be touched or loved.

I hear you in digital land having a news and information meltdown, all screamy and covered in accusation. I feel your pain.

Curiously, when you claim your much older father was the finder, you’re admitting to calculated pedophilia. When I explain that a younger Tom was my cousin’s friend and had the letters, you resort to pedo falsehoods. This idea of a host of thieves is just distractedness. The initial reader is my blood relative who wouldn’t exploit me. And your relatives, to this day, prefer them too young and too obedient. Another hypocritical aspect of your adulthood is the social and royal machinery of you and Duchess Rachel Smirkle as businesslike fake-ass partners. But anytime soon you’ll realize that you willfully married and procreated with a Tinder hookup that demonstrably aligned herself with Tom and was guilty of what you accuse everyone else of. She knew and boasted of the young and braided cadavers, my stalled ambitions and no personal life, and the pedo-ed Charles. As big tech, you knew of the wellness stuff, her giving-my-best-curtsying-tryout Instagram posts, and her television roles that revealed you as knife guy.

At 33, you teamed up to hurt me.

There is no defense for bad-mouthing an enriching system you think undermines your father’s paperwork when your fake wife admitted to recreationally and professionally reap the benefits of a Tom Cruise methodology — the same tiered system that has allowed you to push your way through a crowd to accept awards and go unscathed as a proven cybercriminal in your chambers.

Your father turned my sporty musical melodrama letters into forced Disney Channel porn. Why was this even a gravitational pull of conversation topic? I was a kid. My love and sex partners will always be my decision. Your human daughter is 3. I assume she’s having sexy sleepovers. Have family, friends, and colleagues chosen a red-light district worker who will bang her on her 17th birthday and yell: fuck me, daddy? Details to be posted? Typical Liz. So persnickety. She’s in the process of womanhood. I’m basing her tastes on the quality of her philanderer pimp father and the quality of her heartless bitch mother.

Does Charles supervise bath time? Is the girl being raised far away from King Charles? If so, why?

Artists and athletes have dedicated their careers to the sworn loyalty of reminding you that your poisoned fingers won’t touch a certain woman. Yet your internet-fueled destruction of golden laxative literati have only functioned to needlessly and inaccurately respond with firsties about a woman you call Mediumslut. Or is that about Tom? You remain, in 2025, as uneducated about consensual relationships as ever. You’ve known the outcome of all this for decades. Does your brother William still encourage going for the throat of forced love? Because thanks to you, your controlled websites, and Getty Images — William no longer appears to have grown into his royal role.

With any rape clause, William has now been characterized as the creepy lookout guy.

You’re still pecking away at your computer with electronic X-rated common vocabulary gibber­ish on the screen to swallow and to create news. Prince Harry writes in terms of misogyny, racism, xenophobia, slut and tease shaming, body shaming, classism, the N-word, and the F-slur. No internet keypad can help you, your family and Rachel Farkle escape the tragedies of Columbine, September 11, Sandy Hook, the Boston Marathon Bombing, Pulse nightclub, Parkland, Uvalde, the Going Postal shootings, the mosque shootings, the kidnappings, the young suicides, the old suicides, and the celebrity suicides that your existence and a royal wedding assuredly brought the world.

The rape-proxy dates and names will be familiar in the obituaries department; a Windsor snippet:

On March 5, 2001, 15-year-old Charles Andrew Williams entered a boys' bathroom at Santana High School with a gun and fatally shot a freshman. In Gary, Indiana, 17-year-old Donald Ray Burt Jr. fatally shot Neal Boyd IV with one bullet to the head in a parking lot outside Lew Wallace High School. 14-year-old student James Sheets entered Red Lion Area Junior High School in Pennsylvania armed with a pistol. He killed the school's principal, Dr. Eugene P. Segro, before killing himself. 16-year-old student, Jeff Weise killed his grandfather at the Red Lake Indian Reservation in Minnesota. He then drove to Red Lake Senior High School. Armed with his grandfather's weapons, Weise killed five students, one teacher, and one security guard, wounding seven others, before entering a gunfight with police officers that resulted in him committing suicide. November 8, 2005, 15-year-old Kenneth Bartley shot the then principal, Gary Seale, at Campbell County Comprehensive High School. Two 17-year-olds were outside Henry Ford High School in Michigan when four people in a car opened fire at them. 14-year-old Brandon McInerney, shot 15-year-old Lawrence "Larry" King, twice in the head in the computer lab of Green Jr. High in Port Hueneme, California. On September 8, 2010, two students were wounded in front of Mumford High School by 17-year-old Steven Jamal Hare. On December 8, 2011, 22-year-old Ross Truett Ashley, a student at Radford University, killed a police officer on the campus of Virginia Tech in Blacksburg. He then committed suicide. On January 15, 2013, two people were killed and a third person was wounded at the parking lot of Hazard Community and Technical College. 18-year-old Karl Halversen Pierson shot 17-year-old student Claire Davis in the head, fatally injuring her, in a hallway in Arapahoe High School in Centennial, Colorado. 15-year-old Jaylen Fryberg shot five students in the school cafeteria of Marysville Pilchuck High School, four fatally, before committing suicide. On October 1, 2015 in Roseburg, Oregon, 26-year-old student Christopher Harper-Mercer, opened fire on the Umpqua Community College campus, killing eight students. On February 29, 2016, four students were injured during a shooting in the school's cafeteria — in Middletown, Ohio. An 18-year-old King City High School student was shot outside the auditorium on March 21, 2017. Two people were shot and injured at Palm Beach Central High School in Wellington, Florida on August 17, 2018, three months after the royal wedding.

An abbreviated suckitude guide for any glass ceiling discrimination you may feel Rich White Rape Prince is experiencing and need to talk it out.

For adults who turn on all the brain sprinklers, and at this point, are still asking themselves: should we give Prince Harry a two-hour interview on his new documentary series and then give him a documentary series called, The Me You Can't See, for seawater flappy floppies? The answer is No. Because your fedora and winks in 2025 don’t save children and kids. Because the Windsor ill-bred genetic dysfunction of pedophilia and selection are what brought us here. I proved I was 0 years old, a fact that most people knew already.

First, it’s important to know that Prince Henry Phillips and Actress Flesh Vessel had a quick exchange of fluids for reproduction in Cash App quid pro quo foreplay in the most tender act of fraudulent lovemaking, even though he hates Lady Sparkles with every muscle movement.

Second, as individuals and as an arranged couple, producing a documentary series about mental health struggles in their own soiled layers of filth in scripted NDA-approved dialogue when they’re knocked-up liars was never going to set the world right, so why produce it?

Third, since you brought it up, produce it because of the worthy subjects, but don’t have them attached.

It perhaps might be too scholarly to comprehend that these are the meritorious misfires that prolonged me solving the Charles/Henry pedophile tree puzzle. Prince Harry does not deserve specialness, wealth and accolades. Here is the Nobel Prize in Medicine and The Albert Einstein Award in Outstanding Achievement to Mankind, but just so you know, to that middle-aged girl at the desk with nothing, this cuckoo pussyboy who wears used masking tape handed down from his father who still holds child-killing paperwork, has a first mattress clause that has us talk in cum riddles because he’s wanted to cut you for the last thirty years or so.

Can important people read?

I don’t think it conflicts with an index of paperwork to hire and hang with trained, qualified, and distinguished medical professionals unassociated with the author of malicious Internet jibes, green-blade cat lasers and September 11th. There is an entire species of credible chefs, doctors, filmmakers, and memoir ghostwriters in places other than Prince Charles’ and Prince Andrew’s sex trafficking recruitment drawer. The employment only shows you have no conviction.

I never considered that the Harry & Meghan Hashtags on Twitter were done on behalf of the prince. I should have. It’s not like his tech company is legally liable for content, words, and misrepresentations. He’s not regulated. #Megxit. #Sussexsquad. Letting the world know they are stepping back from their royal duties as if anybody gives two shits about pink-eye couple, and to claim a little girl no matter what.

It’s a hell no from me.

It’s also to sell merch.

When I was Retweeting during that cheesy and fake H&M doc, in between our conversations, the news would appear that her clothes would sell out to us peasants, even though her personal dress code is the obedient Windsor code. I knew the Duchess and her oral posture were paid to help his altar boy image. So I’m thinking, what the… guys? I’m retweeting garbage princess tweets while kids and celebrities kill themselves, and the website is backseat-driving up these fake glamorized trending topics about her garments being so sought after they sell out in minutes. Lies. A buffer of deceit. I’m just relieved that nobody wants to dress up in her clothes, flesh or spirit.

Does anybody know Princess Märtha Louise of Norway? I do. She is a certified physiotherapist, businesswoman, clairvoyant and a member of the Norwegian royal family. Though she has no public role at present, she is fourth in the line of succession to the Norwegian throne. On May 24, 2002, Princess Märtha Louise married Norwegian author, playwright, and visual artist, Ari Behn. With their daughter, Maud Angelica, they said they were ready to start a new life in New York City, so they moved in October 2004. In 2004, her first book, a children's story about the first royal family of Norway was released, titled: Why Kings and Queens Don't Wear Crowns. The couple had three daughters, but after after 14 years of marriage, they got divorced in 2017. Her husband was the subject of a documentary series that followed him at the time of his divorce called, Ari and Half the Kingdom. On Christmas Day, December 25, 2019, Princess Märtha’s ex-husband committed suicide at his home. He was 47.

In May 2019, the princess announced she was in a relationship with a California-based spiritual guide and healer. Together, the couple has seminars titled, The Princess and the Shaman. They got married in a three-day wedding event on a fjord, in the town of Geiranger, one of Norway’s major tourist attractions. She has been quoted in her press saying that she’s planning a Meghan-and-Harry-like move to the United States. She knows they’re a suit of lies. Harry has called her a ding-dong angel talker on Reddit. The name of her husband is Durek Verrett. Princess Märtha gives Tom the royal green light.

The amount of times Hollywood screenwriters have used the names Marguerite, Margaret, Martha or Marge is overwhelming. It serves a quadrangle purpose. Charles the pedo, Harry the cover, Tom the protector, and Me, the girl.

The characters always play an important role in the storytelling, often maternal, and always in the midst of it. Take the character of Martha May Whovier. She’s a character in the Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas movies played by Christine Jane Baranski. Martha Logan, a fictional First Lady, was played by Jean Smart in the TV series, 24. First-time screenwriter-director Sean Durkin really went for it in 2011 with his psychological drama titled, Martha Marcy May Marlene, about a woman haunted by the memories and paranoia of fleeing an abusive mind-controlled cult with the help of her sister who lives on a lake in Connecticut. He cast as his lead the talented actress, Elizabeth Chase Olsen, in her first major role, for no reason whatsoever. Actresses who have portrayed Martha Kent in the Superman canon are: Annette O'Toole, Bellamy Young, Diane Lane, Eva Marie Saint (the actress is 100-years-old and nobody says anything about anything to her), Frances Conroy, Katherine Elizabeth Callan who is known professionally as K Callan, Swoosie Kurtz, and Phyllis Thaxter played Christopher Reeve's mother in the 1978 film. In the new Superman 2025 film, Martha is played by actress Neva Howell which looks spectacularly and sounds melodiously like Never Harold.

The filmmakers of this superhero franchise, which was released back when I was six, wouldn’t still be proving in their circlet of strength the fact that Lord Mountbatten, Prince Philip, Prince Charles and Uncles to the left and right prefer underage girls and boys if that were a lie. Child predators, no big deal. In a bid for calling dibs, Charles tried to tell me who to love and fuck. Bless his heart. His son would grow up to comply with this sexist doctrine and inflate a woman’s passing, a woman we all wish was living — through interviews, documentaries, reenactments, news coverage, legal battles, charities, awards, and private family photographs on an F-word cum website — by resolving to have his revenge for all that media attention and monetization that he orchestrates in a dark hoodie close around his face.

The national tragedies in society at large. The school shootings. The suicides. It’s all the House of Windsor. People don’t talk about it. But the story hasn’t changed at all.

Tom was saying, I’m right here.

I missed it because I was wasting years on Harry.

Cleverly disguised as a gentleman, you wanted to come at your computer and sit there and read all day. In our communications, you never dropped your first in the panini line repartee. You’d think you’d let go of the anatomy book vengeance code since you were talking to me, not Tom. A girl. The Girl. You made my life more difficult than it ever had to be, in retribution you remain vastly outnumbered by since covering for your elderly Dad.

It's still a no.

You try to normalize and clean away your family pedophilia and you watch young people hurt themselves. You hacked me upon your date nights, travel, speeches, tours, wedding, marriage and births when you knew I had nothing.

You don’t know about love. And I’m not going to teach you.

K

The Duchess has no say in royal life; she cannot read the news; she cannot touch the internet; she cannot send work email; she cannot speak freely per royal contracts. But she can get a summer pedicure and she can suck a dick on Rikers Island. The Sussexes don’t live in Montecito and they don’t live together.

Meghan Sparker Bowles knew what horsey sportsman Charles is famous for. She knew of the sticky family pedophilia and said neat, fuck, this may be unfair but I’m going to help them. She knew of the tower and child tragedies. She’s known of a middle-aged girl with absolutely nothing.

This is her old Insta-happy Instagram where she lavishes the tech prince with obsessive Windsor-isms, before they dated.

December 14, 2012 was the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting tragedy. 20 students and six adults were killed. I won’t upload this again as it’s been documented and passed from hand to hand in copies and read aloud.

I don’t understand how an adult could post this and then work for the Lie Factory that caused it…

She also dramatized a car chase in that Netflix Harry & Meg catnap theatrical production and said cooter — so this is right up there in the garishness. Up, up, up. Camilla Parked.

The accident is a real soft spot for you. Right.

Big Tech Harry re-uploaded it and added the two comments on the right with misspellings and classic oopsie spacing…

The nearest woman said yes! Here Comes the Bribe. And that's all it took. Money.

Their public engagement announcement.

In The Sunken Garden at Kensington Palace. There is no S in Garden. Getty pluralized it and pushed the word “on” close to the number 18. Notice the police officer behind Rachel, a v imprint in her coat, a traffic barrier near Harry’s dick, Harry’s shit-eating grin and the V roots leading up to the pink heart-shaped leaves near white paint; a walking lie as the pedo leasher.

I thought of the Sunken Place from the movie, Get Out, which represents the marginalization of Black voices and experiences. I’m sure Prince Harry, the cover up, thought of the movie as well since it was released just months before in 2017; he’s telling the world to hush-hush about his father’s underage leashing and his rape proxy whilst ridiculing systemic oppression.

Two Tinder office employees…

In the description they say it’s a four-day media wait for the wedding, but the wedding is May 19th and this is dated March 20th. So they waited. Also, in the description is the misspelling of news piece. The reporter in black jeans, with a u-shaped hand, wearing a Harry mask, is in a balletic upright position right before a plié move.

Impressive.

On the left it looks like a scene from Rapunzel, below the window, which reminds me of Tangled and the song, When Will My Life Begin?

An Indian gentleman on the bench with his iPhone…

This is the last woman Prince Harry Mountbatten-Windsor will ever physically, romantically touch. Santa's helper on the telly. The other women were smart to tell Harry no.

Photo by Trae Patton. The now-Duchess holds the number 24 briefcase, again.

This is the third time…

Old account and username there in the corner. This caught my attention because I’m a fan of The Greatest Showman movie, especially the song and video for Rewrite the Stars. The common thread is that Rebecca is also from the Mission Impossible movies.

I was thinking, that’s a nice co-star sentiment—wait, they’re on a river houseboat, cruiseferry, the writer is claiming firsties, sibling references in the comments, a sideways photo and pedo lies. Harry.

Cyber liar was always misleading me…

My old Twitter account.

This is another place where we tap-tapped. While he was touring the world, making speeches and making babies and being heralded an overall great married humanitarian, we were talking. I’m guessing spell-binding in the description means jail cell and to reinforce this point, he’s outing his own pedophile father, King Charles, as the 8 leasher. Who's the pedo now? Still Charles. Oh how the turntables... Nope, it’s still Charles. The Wealthy Windsor Family thinks underage kids are bangable. They believe in non-consenting relationships. Prince William and Harry support this.

28,000 views could mean that Tom was watching us, too.

Harry got his location correct: England.

Since writing these blogs, he has altered this Henry Twitter account because he’s a big strong manboy...

This is to give Jeff Bezos and Amazon and Amazon Fresh — or, afresh — the opportunity to give Tom Cruise the bookclub green light. That goes for all employees, administrative, engineering, warehouse, delivery drivers, management and customer service. I can’t believe what cybercriminal Big Tech Prince Harry gets away with. The solicited publications to battle an action star, the intentionally bad reviews, the algorithm and keywords that favor products about revenge, and the price fixing. He talks about it on Reddit, saying some products are given stronger organic rankings and more visibility. I am affected by the price gouging, if that's any consolation.

A few book titles: Four Books of Architecture, Kama Sutra, Tidal Wave, American Quotations, True Space 2, Dilbert, Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace, two Born to Rebel books, and two Worldly Goods books by British author Lisa Jardine.

In one photo and a knee-bend, with what looks like a library label on the right in some kind of cool Dewey Decimal System, Jeff is outing the elder prince, King Charles, as the leasher…   

This is Charles Edward Maurice Spencer, an Earl. A good one. Earl Spencer is the younger brother of the loved princess and Harry’s maternal uncle. He is an acclaimed author and has a historical podcast called, The Rabbit Hole Detectives that he hosts with his girlfriend Norwegian archeologist Dr. Catrine Jarman.

Two separate titles of his books are: Killers of the King: The Men Who Dared to Execute Charles I and the book, To Catch A King: Charles II's Great Escape. In an earlier blog, I wrote about his book, The White Ship: Conquest, Anarchy and the Wrecking of Henry I's Dream. Litwise, the Earl is really really into Roman numerals.

A couple of things about his Getty photograph: he’s on the fourth green velvety step of a spiral staircase, one finger extended near X’s, a knuckle on his leg, and in the description it’s July 1st which is his sister’s birthday in 2104—wait, what. Also, this photograph has restricted access, you can’t download it and if you want to buy it you have to email the company, which is not their normal practice.

I think there's a green message here for Tom…

This is Earl Charles Spencer at a documentary premiere for the film, Dancing at the Vatican, which focuses on Huntington's disease, a hereditary disorder that causes nerve cells in the brain to break down, a cause that the late Pope Francis supported.

The Earl, in jeans, is near an event poster for HDennomore (pronounced Hidden No More), a global resource for patients, yet it is misspelled in the Getty description.

Earl Charles Spencer gives Tom a message…

One day before The Prince and The Actress get married in that fairytale wedded tradition of internet-addicted fakeness, more cover up, payment, reproduction, and FaceTime babysitting.

Not a subtle PR paparazzi push to let us know their roles.

Ice Queen Windsor is a nearby ice cream parlor, outing their pedo kingly leasher.

So noble, so brave, a brotherly walkabout to melt the hearts of those who only loved your mother, holding a bear, alongside your sturdy rape accomplice licking his lips, right up the road from your cozy castle at 4 Castle Hill in Windsor England. Oh, and a woman in red near a Tom officer…    

President Barack Obama before traveling to Newtown, CT to meet with the families of the young victims who were killed in the Elementary School shooting, and to thank first responders.

Jeremy Richman, 49, father of first-grader Sandy Hook Elementary school shooting victim, Avielle Richman, was found dead in his office at Edmond Town Hall on Newtown's Main Street on March 25, 2019. A neuropharmacologist, he killed himself. His daughter was 6-years-old.

Words in the Getty description text: small and raked. Also, in the photograph: v-shaped tent poles near a staircase, the greenery and yellowed leaves; v-shaped branches near a presidential balled-up fist.

On behalf of Obama’s colleague, Alan Bennett Krueger, all of the Sandy Hook victims and their families and the victims of September 11th, the 44th president of the United States gives Tom the green light…

A bright neon green light from the Biden White House during Christmastime, with festive decorations, to honor the victims and send a message to Tom and the world…

This is Malinda Gayle McCready, wearing a loving heart bracelet, known professionally as Mindy McCready. She was a successful country singer. In 1996, she had a hit song with the girl-power catchy tune, Guys Do It All the Time. Here, Rosie O'Donnell, the ultimate mama, holds Mindy’s newborn son, Zander. On February 17, 2013, Mindy was found on her front porch from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. She was 37. Google her wiki picture and her son. Big Tech Boss Harry has shown him as Ryan Seacrest.

Rosie, Mindy, and her family give Tom the green light…

The Sweeten twins were the child actors on Everybody Loves Raymond for nine years. The boy in blue, with the crossed legs, is Sawyer Storm Sweeten. On April 23, 2015, while visiting family in Texas, Sawyer died due to a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. He was 19.

On behalf of the creator, the cast and crew of Everybody Loves Raymond, Tom has the green light…

The second man from the left is actor-comedian, Richard John Colangelo, known professionally as Richard Jeni. The Brooklyn-born comic was named one of Comedy Central's Top 100 Comedians of All Time, and performed successful specials for TV. He shot himself in the head at his West Hollywood, Los Angeles home on March 10, 2007, at the age of 49. Jeni, who was on antidepressant pills, demonstrated suicidal behavior a week before his death. His girlfriend, Amy Hasten, saw the comedian talking to himself, saying: “Just squeeze the trigger.”

On behalf of Richard Jeni, his family, his comedy family, especially Bob Saget and Robin Williams, shown here in a shirt embossed with six or seven red-green bottles near a watch, they all give Tom the green light… 

This is lead singer of the rock band Linkin Park, Chester Charles Bennington. He was a singer, songwriter and multi-instrumentalist. He was effortlessly rockstar cool. He wore earrings, rings, bracelets, piercings, tats, bleached hair, a black fleur-de-lis on a sweater, an all-red arm cast; he got injured many times while performing. He is said to have fallen while performing the song, Papercut. Huh. I’ve had their song, In The End, on my iPod for years, not realizing that their word-spikes of harmony were exposing a lying Harry and his pedo father. “It starts with one, one thing, I don't know why…”

Chester and his signature onstage knee-bend. Every. damn. time. Here, his bandmate Michael Kenji Shinoda joins him with a guitar shadow.

On July 20, 2017, Chester was found dead at his home in Palos Verdes Estates, California, as a result of suicide by hanging.

On behalf of Chester, his family and all members of Linkin Park, they give Tom the green light…

Smooth Criminal. Song.

This is Stephen tWitch Boss. He was a professional dancer, choreographer, actor, the house DJ and co-executive producer on The Ellen DeGeneres Show. He was known for the dance movie franchise, Step Up, and he starred alongside Channing Tatum in Magic Mike XXL.

On December 13, 2022, Twitch died by suicide, a gunshot wound to the head, in his Encino, California home.

On behalf of Stephen, his wife Allison, Ellen DeGeneres and Channing, they give Tom the green light…

The picture below...

My old Twitter account.

This is Stephen King’s Twitter account as operated by Big Tech Prince Harry.

Mr. King, the famous prolific author, whose first novel with an interesting name was published in 1974, when I was on a baby bottle and Tom Cruise was at that distinctly villainized pedophilia age of 12. So just to clarify your thinking a bit, Harry: does the world sincerely think Tom Cruise wanted to fuck a baby when he was 12? No.

Harry’s grandfather and father are known for liking a pool of underage children, all genders, they came in contact with. The Royal Windsors, grandfathers, fathers, uncles are known to fantasize about children in a sexual way and sometimes act on it. The father-and-son duo (sounds familiar) came to like two young friends.

Stephen King’s book is about a young and straight cruised Tom.

This screengrab is from when I tap-tapped a mildly alliterative pun to Harry about rapper, Flavor Flav. As you do.

Not knowing that Tom is watching us, the next day or thereabouts, he had Flavor Flav deliver 25 Prince Street pizzas to the Hollywood WGA strikers in Burbank. I saw the headlines and the word Prince Street (duality of meanings; the North End in Boston and Harry), and therein lies the problem. Tom: you look like you live on a steady diet of rice, water, and an edited salad order. I, on the other hand, saw your Fresh Prince Flavor Flav, a man who is always on time per his iconic clock necklace, with the boxes of pizzas, and thought it meant dinnertime so I shut down my computer. I wasn’t thinking: anatomy jailing. Which I believe was the subliminal message.

This is Harry confirming that why yes he is the masked stand-in for his pedophile father, King Charles, and he too noticed the lunch provisions and well la-dee-da there’s nothing anyone can do about it, nobody, nobody, as his disgraced pedo uncle Prince Andrew Epstein is trending.

Nobody?

My old Twitter account.

This is Harry Styles’ Twitter account, as operated by Big Tech Prince Harry. I recognized the emailer and NDA-protected nickname, or so I thought, given to me by my writer-film friend and thought, huh, why would that be tweeted out. Which also looks like initials. And then tilting downwards, I noticed the underage pics that I’ve since deleted and the bone, boner, boning code that I don’t prescribe to and usernames that Prince Harry loves oh so much. Stuff that I’m sure celebrities just regard an essential part of their artistic life story, next to their name and profile pic. Notice the morning timestamp.

On behalf of One Direction, especially Liam Payne and Caroline Flack, they give Tom the green light…

Hotel Ceiling. Rixton. Song.

This is Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Saunderson, in the bedroom of their home in Montecito, Santa Barbara, California. This is where Duke & Duchess Nocum have never lived. I found this Getty Image months ago and dismissed it based on the 1970s date. So naïve. Mrs. Saunderson is actually Louise Astor Van Alen Saunderson, a socialite and heiress who grew up exceedingly wealthy in Newport, Rhode Island, a descendant of the Vanderbilt family and legendary Astor family. She’s described as one of last Gilded Age matrons.

She is said to have commissioned John Sander, a prominent English artist, a muralist, to paint the walls of her master bedroom as if they were in Venice. Death in Venice.

She and her husband owned 12 dogs. I’ve seen this picture uploaded to Instagram with Harry’s ecstatic writing of: “Puppy Heaven!!!”

No. Tom, at 13, didn’t want to fuck a baby. Your grandfather and father, one or both, wanted to fuck a little girl or boy, somewhere. Look at the rust-orange colored pants with a newspaper and her Golden Age of Hollywood hardcover book, the actress looks like Marlene Dietrich.

This photograph isn’t about me. It’s about an underage inspiration for cumming noises.

Your father was dubbed the Playboy Prince for his dating history. It never specified gender or age.

The city of Montecito knows all about the Mountbatten-Windsor men and wants to distance themselves from you and Megg and everyone in your bloodline. No wonder.

Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Saunderson knew the pedophile truth. On behalf of them and another Vanderbilt family member, Anderson Cooper, they give Tom the green light…

Do you often date the sister of your future wife, the supposedly greatest love of your life? Not unless it’s arranged. Prince Charles, wearing the number 4 as he did consistently, the everpresent riding horse, two red blankets, a car, and a book with the name Charles and an androgynous picture on it.

It’s not about me.

Tom is only 15… 

Charlie, muddy boots, saddled, two horses, a dog looking skyward to probably indicate Prince Philip and Charles’ girlfriend, Lady Wellesley. Her full name is Lady Jane Wellesley, the daughter of the 8th Duke of Wellington, who is known to have dated the prince in the early 1970s. Look at her cupped hand, right in front of the horse’s nostrils.

And a royal protection officer.

Tom is only 16…

Diary of a Schoolgirl...

July 1st, The Princess with the short hair in a balletic pose on her birthday. Take him instead! A keypad near his shoulder.

His dark-eyed prom date behind them, with the bar across her mid-section.

He’s 43-years-old here. Look at his dejected sadsack face and sausage fingers. I’m guessing this is when he realizes that autumn cusp writergirl is only 16 going on 17.

The description is punctuated in capital letters…

This is a younger functioning pedo in his best Prince Charles mask, talking with what looks like that actor from A Christmas Story or a clone. The Grenfell Tower Fire killed 72 people on June 14, 2017, in North Kensington, West London, England. It was said to have started in the kitchen, by an electrical fault in a refrigerator on the fourth floor.

In the service of humanity, the liar, the cybercriminal and the pedo sympathizer, Prince Harry met with the victims’ families to pay his respects.

Notice the Louis Vuitton pocketbook, wrist tattoo, two black phones, one pink phone and the child in blue glasses to represent senior citizen pedophile Prince Charles and a young Tom…

Picture below:

Come On Get Higher. I Saw. Bill Murray. Are three songs by musician, Matt Nathanson.

Where we directly communicated the most. A full-circle to the natural matte finish.

Celica Japan, my all-sports geisha samurai pagoda housewife who offered a kernel of friendship only so he could chide other tech users with his silenced leashing. Quite the marrying type. Those insta messages down there, by the way, were to my sister and private and not to the devil himself. The first Like is to taunt Tom with sugary cunty language, and to threaten retribution, making me believe, once again, that Tom, older but not Dad old, was Ken, the reason for no life, no career, no kids.

Tom didn’t want me anywhere near your fuckup family.

Kenta, 1988, and an elbow…

This was Prince Harry’s YouTube account. We didn’t communicate per se, but he could see me watch his UK video content by my digital clicks on the videos to Not Going Out, the TV show Miranda, An Idiot Abroad, and others. He knows my penchant for British dry humour and used this against me.

I think he noticed you, Tom, haiku-ing and watching us which I didn’t realize but am grateful for and I assume the top comment is aimed at you with Paypal and madeback. Madeback? As in, I’ve exposed your grandfather, great-uncle, father, and uncle as different levels of sexual predators? And you as expendable? So, 80-year-old white-haired Charles never surrendered the pact, agreement, paperwork. You live in the internet algorithm, reinventing lies for pedophiles.

You have no position or purpose.

Since writing these blogs, he has changed this Somerset Entertainment YouTube account. It morphed from British comedy to a violent gaming channel to what it is now, a young Korean girl-band videoplayer.

I had already screengrabbed it.

Italian Lessons is 1st, the 23rd…

Below:

This was back in 2021, with a different username and account. I was noticing that when hacking incidents occurred, and it was reported, that it didn’t actually happen at all. I’d check YouTube, and notice it was up and running. Huh. What purpose does a non-hack have? Then, I would check Reddit and he would show faux outrage, writing: YouTubers are getting hacked literally every day and it’s so preventable that I hate this is even a problem.

Then, he would pretend to be a YT content creator and ask general questions of why did this happen and he would respond: Because you click on random executables; because you have a weak password; people steal content; the most common way people get their accounts stolen is because...and so on and so forth. All code for Tom. Sometimes Prince Harry hacks countries; sometimes he fake-hacks websites. All depends on his horniness that particular day.

But please shower him with accolades and opportunities.

May 18. Dad. Jesse Bruce Pinkman. A character from Breaking Bad.

Once again, Harry is blaming a young Tom and I have nothing…  

Miss Chatelaine. k.d. lang. Song.

Skin-crawling inauthenticity. Misaimed kissing and disgust on her part. His dirty fingernailed arm grip and his horsey leashing Number 4 with a slash…

The bygone habits of the Mountbatten-Windsor family, like a tour of Italy and imposing a closed, tight collared shirt with a bowtie on a princess in the springtime.

I see zero spousal respect, there are secrets and there are secrets, but everything about your family is totally false. Your family treated her like a piece of meat...

Your father is giving the young Italian boy side-eye. Much older men with Cheshire Cat smiles. One looks like my Uncle to symbolize my young model cousin. Clergy rope belts. Flowers and two umbrellas, which I’m thinking means both dry and bi. I have a problem with labelling the Windsor Family as anything bisexual or pansexual since that denotes sexuality and inclusiveness. This is just using your high status to be a predator. But I do know that this whole thing began with Charles getting rejected by a young kid. Charles read and was glued to the handwritten letters and faxes of writergirl because Tom was reading them. They were letters of the alphabet that my cousin and Tom knew Charles was way way too old for. Never mind your grandfather who is in here somewhere symbolically. Based on your family’s history of recorded pedophilia and I’m guessing less than gentlemanlike marital relations, they didn’t want me in your Windsor family tree.

That includes you, Harry. 

I’ve never written her name on social media and I won’t now. She deserves better. I intend to properly honor her one day, but that requires a conversation with Earl Spencer. Here, she’s pointing downward wearing that infamous sapphire ring, and one heel up.

I’m not even in high school yet.

Tom was young, too.

Nobody owes your family anything, you ABBA Rosemary Baby before-I-was-even-born sexist pedophile sympathizing woodworm. Your family picked me because Tom liked a wisecracking tomboy he felt needed protection from a bloodline that still can’t discern between right and wrong. Trooping storms or Trooping the Colour, you’ve been disrupting Hollywood, England, businesses, politics, and the Internet in your sheer misery of poor-me lies.

You’re a cybercriminal going nowhere, hiding behind your happy family portrait when it all just feels like a lie because it is.

Your father has the ancient agreement; you just have a knot around your genitals.

To Archewell Inc., Archewell Foundation, Archewell Productions, Archetypes podcast, Sentebale, Travalyst, The Invictus Games, WellChild, The Earthshot Prize and The King's Trust. All of the violence and suicides mentioned — the kids, adults and celebrities — are labelled on the internet by Prince Harry as Red Tie Club. As a great thinker of the night, he writes that depression is a bitch, woof. He doesn’t care about suicides, school shootings or charity, but keep working for him. I’m sure associating with him looks ideal on a résumé.      

Whether it’s Hit Reply and Send on direct communications with me or hacking my cordage dreams or sending my elderly father a box of heavy stainless steel measuring spoons, which he did this week, Prince Harry is an ordinary sideshow of a human being without hugs and parental love who continues to evade Tom and instead angles for me.    

Does anyone remember the song and video for She Will Be Loved by Maroon 5? A short film of fantasy themes, a mother and daughter relationship or is it, starring the movie actress, Kelly Preston. Watch it on YouTube (up).   

Tom, remind me to show you where the previous homeowner wrote in white beige paint: Thor, My Newfoundland Dog. It’s on the ceiling of my basement. I dare you to get a sexier invitation than that.  

I’d like a life soon, at 52, and I really do have to write about other things like saving the murder mysteries on PBS.

K

https://www.history.com/articles/mountbatten-assassination-ira-thatcher

[lavelled]

Everybody is at the movies, so I thought I’d fit in one more brief yet longstanding criticism of a royal monster before finally landing on the conclusion. This is because there are too many Getty Images outing the Windsor family pastime. All ages, all generations. From stroking a pet to the stroke of a pen.

How are Sir Harry and Lady Duchess Community Hole?

I hear she’s giving handies in Stockton. Or is it dinner parties in Montecito? Aaaahhh. I can’t keep track because I don’t want to.

The dearly loved gentlewoman in her best pest control beespotter rapist coveralls. A honeycomb of muzzled nothingness that walks and rides with you, despite warmly acknowledging child deaths and pedophilia upon her social media forums. That you re-upload with ease.

I feel it quite impossible that an adult woman typed out a recipe for pumpkin fondue on her TIG website and then married the pumpkin. One of the ingredients in that recipe is ¼ lb. of Gruyere cheese, grated. You should have her make it, give that a whirl. Though it would be long-distance dining as you two don’t live together and you don’t live in Montecito, California. There is no hinted speculation that she wrote of the ill will, the proxy, and the tragedies — through a lifestyle blog, through recipes, through her family photographs, and through her legal television role — and then married him and went to bed that night with her head full of happy thoughts.

You are perfect for each other.

In 2019, Prince Harry and Actress Sprinkle traveled to Cape Town, South Africa where they met the widow of the late Nelson Mandela in Johannesburg, South Africa, and then visited Botswana, Angola, and Malawi in events related to socio-economic and environmental challenges. Harry guest-edited the National Geographic's Instagram account during that trip, which is particularly easy since his cyber inkstand technical business minus a conscience has access to most of Instagram anyway, where he posted photos of himself on the forest footfall. On his back. Camera pointing skyward. Just a year earlier, on July 15, 2018 to be exact, the year of the big royal wedding, Prince Harry, pretending to be Elon Musk or Kekius Maximus or Henry Chaplin, defamed Vernon Unsworth by tweeting out that he’s “a pedo guy” on Twitter. Vernon is a British man who was living in the area when 12 boys and their soccer coach got trapped in a flooded Thailand cave and Vernon was the first person with expertise to arrive at the site. Vernon, in coordination with the Thai Navy SEALs and international volunteers, helped to get 13 out of 13 people out alive. Elon had to defend this defamation, claiming the phrase "pedo guy" was common in South Africa, a place where he grew up and where Harry & Rachel would giddily visit a year later. With paparazzi in tow.

A couple of things: Harry tweeted out the, "Sorry pedo guy, you really did ask for it." Harry is the grandson and son and nephew of notable pedophiles on the Mountbatten-Windsor side. Also, Duangphet Phromthep, the captain of the Thai football team rescued from that cave, killed himself on February 14, 2023 at the age of 17. Which I wrote about in an earlier blog.

I feel like I have to remind important people who continue to show a great deal of gratitude for this un-royal couple in fake astonishment and fake confusion because you’ve known about the Windsors your whole life, but for some reason delight in giving Tom a message. There are other worthy individuals and couples — beyond anything archly — that deserve your attention at such acceptable moments.

I’d appreciate it. At 52.

I don’t think Tom Cruise has needed a message since the rapiest ginger imaginable was born.

Does anyone remember the song, Stacy's Mom, by Fountains of Wayne? It was released in 2003. I heard it on the radio once, saw the video once, and immediately climbed on the feminist podium to express my advice, opinions, and instructions to the nearest listener. I dismissed it as vamped-up voyeuristic pleasure for pedophiles who like MILF music. Gotta love adolescence objectification and I will be boycotting it, thank you very much, I said, to my small gathered audience.

I have recently learned that Stacy means Sicily. Whoops. Had I googled the young actress years ago, I perhaps would have noticed the familiar ethnic name and the fact that she grew up in Providence, Rhode Island. Funnily enough, she and I and the supermodel goddess of Rachel Hunter do not look alike. Just like The Middle video I wrote about, these women are flawless models. But that’s the point. They’re about a young Tom. Being young himself when an old Earl and old princely relations tried to demand something of a little little girl in that general formality of rape.

I don’t have room for these screengrabs, and I really will be posting that longer blog this week.

K

Deleted Instagram:

This is Meghan Markle’s personal photograph of The Unbearable Lightness of Being, a 1984 novel written by Czech-French author Milan Kundera atop a green & white towel, near a glass of wine and a pair of sandals. The novel is about love, fate, and the meaning of life in the backdrop of the Russian invasion into Czechoslovakia in 1968. In 1968, Tom was six. The movie, released on February 5, 1988, stars Daniel Day-Lewis and Juliette Binoche.

Rachel has had a good deal of enjoyment getting his attention over themes pertaining to my underage and shelved life, all thanks to her in-laws.

This was deleted when they were dating.

Prince Harry, with affluence and every advantage in life, sat at a computer to re-upload it with a stolen picture and a fashion sense to make it seem like fans awaited the besotted Killtom couple.

Best wifey ever. As ever…

U-shaped steak bones and her knack for showing knives and leafy greens. The romance of it all. Prince Harry re-uploaded it, with his major comments.

The numbers 14, 14, 14…

This deleted Instagram entry must be really old because that’s not the usual profile picture. I don’t have the date for it. But I do know that she’s: (1) sort of quoting a former collegiate co-star of mine; (2) is referencing Tom; (3) neverendingly referencing a beloved princess; and (4) Meg needs an equine vet.

Isak Dinesen is the pen name of Baroness Karen Christentze von Blixen-Finecke, a famous Danish writer. Hej, Frederick! As Karen Blixen, she wrote poems, plays, essays and is the acclaimed author of Out of Africa and Babette's Feast, both adapted into award-winning movies.

Tons of Twitter accounts in her name, none literary, and pointing to pedophilia. Lies by Harry.

Harry re-uploaded this because he has little company and purpose in this life…       

The picture below:

Suspicious Minds. Elvis.

1965. Way before birth, way before infancy. Way before Cabbage Patch Kids. Tom Cruise is only 3-years-old.

A kid in a pram. Prince Andrew in red shorts, in red shoes, is touching pedals on a baby carriage. Prince Andrew, he was the one chummy with Jeffrey Epstein, a man arrested on sex trafficking charges. Andrew was accused of sexual abuse. At the time, the girl, Virginia Giuffre, was 17.

A snapshot of trio pedophilia lineage: Grandpawpaw, Papa Charles and Prince Andrew.

Pedals is pedo in code…

The picture below:

The Black Dog. Song.

How has a sand castle provided three male pedophiles to go through life without detection or discrimination and all the riches they don’t deserve? The value of that hospital morgue on Buckingham Rd. is zero.

William and Harry would follow suit with their ancient crust of lies in their surgical theatre; it seems your relatives were doing this way before I was even born and Tom was a young child.

No woman is your family’s human flower or vase. Except for Rachel. Who gives a shit.

The dog in the left-hand corner, gingerly sniffing — though Harry isn’t born yet.

I am six-years-old…      

The picture below:

New Idea is an Australian weekly tabloid magazine. In the Getty description, they say that the magazine is dated January 13, 1993. It’s not. It’s dated the number of my birthday, January 23, 1993. No mention of Harry anywhere. They’re exposing the much older Charles as the pedophile leasher. Tape as in rape. Camilla or Charlene is wearing a bracelet.

I’m an undergraduate…

The picture below:

Sunny Came Home. Shawn Colvin song. Whether she wrote about her own emotions or not, the lyrical folk song about vengeance and burning anger seems like a message to Santo Calvin Cruise.

The unthinkable. Queen Elizabeth at 96 died. Kids await the funeral livestream.

Ireland, Trial (lies), Lord Barry, Kingdom, Variety are engraved on marble. Flowers meaning vase, and a dapper kid’s vest.

I was way way too young and Tom was young, too. Because this is the Mountbatten-Windsor thing.

A curved, slinky water bottle…

The picture below:

2005. Knowing cameras are fixed on him, Prince Harry checks his trousers’ penile zipper after the second wedding of his bereaved and grief-stricken Dad. All normal stuff in a normal family that Getty points out for a reason. So you’ve been pantomiming genitalia cutting for a while now.

His disgraced uncle, Prince Andrew is right behind him…

The picture below:

Two days before the royal heirs-only wedding of Harry & Rachel, Prince Andrew, seen here unaware of how significant calendar dates work, selects a young prizewinner or gives a speech or something to young people on May 17th.

Three young women wear red-trimmed clothing; four pink fingernails…    

The picture below:

You might dismiss this as the lackluster proof of another big tech prince entrenched in his lonely dukedom trapped inside his Freaky Friday Charles underwear defined by his proxied childhood typing on the internet at 40-years-old with two small kids, he thinks he has no idea, on how to properly master the art of sucking dick. Don’t mix up your internet noblemen. This is Prince Harry. Henry Mountbatten-Windsor. You know. That one.

This is what the humanitarian writes, though this is strikingly missing an N-word and other bawdy slurs. Here, he means cutting.

Will Harry & Rachel be invited to any high-society mainstream kiddo functions so that I can email the organizer?

I’ve had nothing for decades so he walk the earth and go unscathed doing this, all day, every day. Along with the rape threats, hacking, laser pointers, bad reviews and unlawful price fixing.

To Archewell Inc., Archetypes, Archewell Foundation, The Invictus Games, The Royal Foundation and The Earthshot Prize…

The picture below:

Classic by MKTO. Song.

My now-gone Twitter account. I’m visiting that Harry GOAT account where we communicated.

I highlighted the affectionate sentiment because like everything else online, the sweetness quickly dwindled into nothing once I saw the woman’s face next to the tweet. Her cheek and eyes are all scratched out in bloodshed. Tilting down, I saw the word lurker. That’s… not good. Four-leaf clovers. Nope. What I thought was eastern hockey is actually hacked off or butchered. Getting worse. Newfoundland dog. The man who sold us the house, my childhood home, talked about his Newfoundland dog, Thor.

Everybody knows the Windsor Family and whatever this is and little kids…     

The picture below:

Username and now-gone Twitter account on the left. I’m 50 and hypnotically willing it to be over. I was really concentrating. (I wasn’t. I was just staring.) Why would Tom do it, why is my cousin all over this website, surrounded by trashiness, succumbing to the code of cum, fuck I’m in hell, why can’t I see Ethan Hunt on this computer, why a familiar name over there, are they pointing to the guilty party, jets in the shape of arrows, the sibling nickname, older, up, up, up.

Charles. His name is Charles.

I didn’t know…

The picture below:

I’m supposed to believe that Nicole Kidman, the actress who pledged to work with female directors — and she has, 19 of them in eight years, it was reported — the woman with three daughters of her own would work, marry and raise a family with a gruff, heartless pedophile who gets off on writergirl's loveless nonexistence.

No. That's you, Harry.

The photographer, the red jacket, and a winking Tom. I bet the Charlie Chaplin impersonator, who is missing something, was in Tom’s sightline for a quick second.

The B or 8 right above pedo King Charles and near Nicole…

Oh. I know. There’s no wrongdoing on your part, Harry. It’s just your grandfather, a great-uncle, an uncle, a father who is now king, and your own livelihood and hobby of writing about blades and spears and cum metal and rape on bestseller lists, websites you control and hack; you interrupt political life and businesses, and you spitefully inflate prices even though mathematics and dates elude you.

And even though it affects me.

I’ll write soon.

[lavelled]

You and The Duchess are hosting attending quiet secret summit fraught family feud dinner parties in Montecito with about 20 guests including VIPs, film executives, and the Beckhams.

I daresay your PR team knows words, and yet, at the end of the day, nobody bothers to red-pen the pages to start rewriting again because they must hate you.

Garbled lies.

Your Montecito mansion doesn’t exist and is only mental landscape code for Tom. David Beckham moved to Los Angeles in 2007 and played for the LA Galaxy from 2007 to 2012 to which he became close friends with Tom Crusade. David and his family wouldn’t emulate anything that they thought endorsed you getting close to me in any way.

The Duchess is too busy yanking down pants and underwear on her white man dates through a crack in the wall to host dinner.

Duke of Sussex, the married reaper, the internet writer of everything from gas to milk, the turd upright on his stool crying doves from an English teapot and if you don’t know what that means it’s a reference to Prince, the singer, and the song choice that I included in the last blog that has Haddie all riled up that he put forth a fake news item about Pippa Middleton Matthews, unwisely.

Not a problem. Allow me to respond.

Yes, I mentioned two men named James in her life. Her extra-tall husband and her watchful brother. What are the odds of three? Her business partner is James Murray and, together, they co-own and run Bucklebury Farm located in Reading Berkshire, England. Huh. It is a garden and adventure parkland with petting zoo animals, deer safaris, tractor rides, and something called a Jumping Pillow and I’m sold. I want to go there. The farm’s previous owner was Rupert Hartley Russell, up, up, up, and yes she wants you gone.

Everybody wants you gone.

You recycled the same spiritless mishmash for news this week as you did in 2024, with different angles. Last year, it was: Meghan Markle and Prince Harry weren't allowed to sit together at Pippa Middleton's wedding — here's why! And then: Pippa Middleton's controversial wedding rule that split up Prince Harry and Meghan Markle — why?! Just days ago, it was: Prince Harry and Meghan Markle attended Pippa Middleton's wedding. Unfortunately, not everything went to plan!

Kapow! Splat!

I appreciate the redoubled emphasis on your idiocy. Any opportunity, really, to remind readers that you and your brother, William, your only human companionship, together, are devoid of morals and discipline, intellect and dignity, and those closest to you have wanted you gone for a while now.

Speaking of middles, in 2001, the rock group, Jimmy Eat World, released their song, The Middle. An energetic tune about being yourself and that feeling of teen angst. They said to have written it in just a day. One bandmate said he wanted to “mimic the feel of You Wreck Me by Tom Petty.” It was slated to release the same time as the September 11 attacks. After the song's November release, it reached Number 5 on the Billboard Hot 100.

The song and video are about the Mountbatten-Windsor family history of pedophilia.

I don’t have room for these screengrabs.

K

Her Deleted Instagram.

She and her mum in a gastropub, even though the restaurant is the Harbord Room in Toronto and she’s not British. I didn’t create the background color. The restaurant has bubble-gum pink walls. Harry deleted her Instagram in 2018, prior to their fake wedding.

Because Harry serves no essential purpose, he re-uploaded some of them, including that Nutella jar photo, and this Mumble one.

With his 1 Like... 

A web of muppetland nostalgia that says, gimme gimme pick me to be your cohort and wife. Do Instagrammers post their photos in the high-culture of chaste, intimate, want, need, sexual and accusatory pedophilia, and then up and marry junior?

I don’t think that’s a thing.

Big Tech Prince Harry re-uploaded this photo and placed a black dot on the maple leaf flag with his adorable comment.

A true romantic relationship…

B.o.B — Airplanes. Song.

Laptop Megs and her 2014 USO tour before the royal Lie-a-Thon tours. A suitcase tag, shadowy figures, and the proximity of Tom at the top there near the U.

Those are Prince Harry’s duplicated comments; he’s pretending to be a humanoid robot…

This is a Prince Harry personal account on Reddit. Foundsatan.

Did anyone hear about a Palm Springs fertility clinic explosion? I’ve been writing about elders, pedophilia, and motherhood. I’m stressing the inequities of this deal, pact, whatever this is. Because of Prince Charles and because I’ve had nothing. I’m not advocating violence in any way. Harry wrote this on Friday, per my timestamp, and then the car bomb happened and — gone. Poof. Harry deleted it.

To Archewell Foundation Archewell Productions Netflix The Invictus Games Sentebale…

On the computerized theremin. You’re listening to…

My now-gone musical Twitter account. Sports and art. Nothing doing. Just putting the dress rehearsal pieces of my life together at 50, and getting theatrically yelled at.

I was blaming Tom because of mixed tapes. They’re allergic to the name Charles and I didn’t know Supernatural meant Up.

I am being loud now.

sidenote: I recently found Celine Dion's song, Have A Heart. In her classic stratospheric octave range, Celine is singing-crying about a lost love. It was originally titled, Just Have a Heart. And recorded in French.

She altered the title and released the 4:14 length song in English.

I have a feeling it was written and sung on behalf of Tom...

Oh good, animated scolding. Sweet Nothing. Song.

I’m supposed to decode and interpret that the person I’ve been talking to for something like twenty years across all social media platforms including my own email account is a vicious satanical rapey biological son of a renown pedophile by looking at saluting candy in brackets in fruity flavors near butterflies which is code, like cake icing, for he wants to cut me.

Quite the polishing phrases of no information.

I tried to block out the confusion, noise, and Harry’s inscribed lies…

Prince Harry’s psychotic control of Elon Musk’s Twitter account.

First World Cup match at the top.

Misspelled celebrities in the middle, the word applies, lies, maxed out, forever attempting to accuse Tom. I told you he used Kathy Griffin in his diary entry blurbs for revenge. Leave her alone.

I was 0-years-old. Earls, Lords, Prince Charles and other men in your lineage are well-known sex trafficking pedophiles...

A touchstone of such loss for Prince Harry that he brutishly uploads the darkest memory of her in between sexual content on a birdbath website.

I didn't like seeing this.

This isn’t honoring her, and any real grief appears disingenuous…  

Two Getty Images that I hear so much online rumbling about. And just like the Banksy-ed Queen statue, I wanted to rewind and show them again.

I was 0-years-old.

The picture below:

Before any daughters in my family were born…

The picture below:

I was 4…

I’ll post that longer blog soon.

[lavelled]

Harry & Meghan went to a concert. A sketchy beard and his sinkhole dress enjoyed date night.

A shit-making techno villain and his clout-grubbing Venmo warehouse he affectionately calls dirty mags and vacuum sex toy took pictures of each other and the world yawned and asked, are we free of them yet?

Whateverthefuck.

How you can display your Mum in print next to any blank image of elderflower jam-jar Sandy Hook Duchess Sparkles is the purest definition of injustice. She has no business being talked about in the same visual realm as your Mum when she’s unable to function even as an actress, let alone a royal. I’ll make sure that continues. She’s a guttering traitor who moved up the ladder on the backs of young carnage. I hope you realize she’s a shoo-in to return to her commoner life, this time of occasional OnlyFans videos and no fame.

I’m positive Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex, was a sickly child from the outset. I wonder if his team has ever tried a pediatrician intervention, but not to conflict with his tablet screen time. Which he does twenty hours a day, while scrolling on his phone with the other hand. Tom may be considered leadership in virtual space, but I can only see Harry.

Harry cornered me online with a high-speed connection and is who I’ve been writing to.

Since the days of Myspace. YouTube video comments. OkCupid — naively. Fake satirical websites. Yahoo Mail. So many Tweets. Brochures. Leaflets. Sheet music of the oldies. Anything that can be written down, he has sent me. Talk, talk, talk. Years ago, he hacked my mother’s credit card and bought several items including an expensive teddy bear from The Vermont Country Store. My mom knows I’m moderately adept at computers and blamed me. That was fun. He has hacked my elderly father many times and bought expensive Delta airline tickets on his debit card that had to get explained and re-explained to the bank. Harry’s chatting, more than just how are yous, only stopped recently. He is the worst kind of con man.

His legalese shortcut was the seesawing playbook: offering false intimacy, acting as if he was everyone’s best friend. And it seemed that way. Yet, collectively, the world has hated his family with their fraud, hoaxes, forgeries, and rape. I wish I knew that. He pretends to be charitable in a gallant manner in public while offering hacking and fake friendship to a misfit detached from the civilized world that he knew he could manipulate, even among a clutch of colleagues who flip his handful of print. Flipping doesn’t get me a personal life. Even the savviest online flipping doesn’t get me a baby. If a 30-year-old human woman manages to outgrow a chummy shadowy penpal boyfriend who can’t write to her, just imagine, despite any closeness, how she feels about an invisible storybook husband in middle-age at 52?

I get upset with society, non-celebrities, who use a paint-by-numbers coded noncode in public that kills kids. But I can’t yell at them for this, for watching a rapey trashcan send me endless contract-violating verse as he picked up awards, goofed on camera, got symbolically married at 33, and dined in ballrooms while I’m at a folding table and trying to decipher near-whispers in a bottle about sex and vaginas as the culprit himself pretends to be my lover.

In doing so, as I’ve said many times, opportunities that I should have had got wasted due to the cruel framing of my life.

I am huge generational gaps between Prince Charles. This shouldn’t have happened at all.

In between large adoring crowds and royal tours to forests, islands and cityscapes, major victory speeches — and let’s not forget being branded the rebellious poster-boy icon — there has been charity work smothered with references to his Mum, technological password disruptions, and what amounts to a lot of polo playing. In part, because of the dialogue that emerges from the equestrian culture, which is: stirrups, reins, riding, breeches, boots, ponies, gaited, and mounted. I knew polo was the Sport of Kings. In the Getty Imagery archives he and William, young men on horses, wear sturdy low numbers on their shirts, trying to look valiant. I get that polo is rooted in nobility. It’s literally in their blood. But it has served no other purpose in the press other than to airbrush Tom’s feelings about a pen pal and make it seem like they were the bereaved brothers who were infringed upon. Lulled into a trance of monstrous vagabondism, Harry geographically stayed close to his daddy to stage paparazzi dust-ups, to wear a Nazi costume, and to pretend to get caught naked with a female playmate in Vegas. Poor Harry. How to speak authentically about grief, yet also remind the world of biological erosion and spinsterhood. Thus, his X-treme Shakespeare Code was born where he writes about a gay grandpa, decimating the youth, dodgy cows riverdancing and jizz/glue.

Back to horses. Prince Harry’s well-documented polo playing was to needle the world, far and wide, about a stalled little girl waiting for a healing touch. Waiting for what came next. If I looked a little deeper, took a closer look, I would have noticed their polo symbols of firsties and gashes. But I didn’t because my lifestyle has been the complete opposite of polo. I have lived in stark contrast a zillion miles away over here for five decades. My letters and emails spoke of no horses and no Charles. Instead, in my youth, there were nosebleeds from softball, musical theater and film.

Everything was out of my reach and I didn’t know why.

Since forever, Harry has tried to invent this fairy tale. This idea of betrayal. Oh. Betrayal. I’m still paying off college loans at 52. In my most dramatic proclamation yet, let me just say to Harry that you should know that it’s permissible, nay, encouraged for family members to write to each other. What is your deal with writing to a first cousin and an Uncle who loved me like a daughter anyway? Sometimes family members develop affection for one another and they show friendship through expression. In letters, no less. You wouldn’t know because you were born from your daddy’s fleshy udders with a demonic temper and when trying to write in crayon, it was “snip, snip, stabhole, dickhole, cum.” There’d be no good reason to get a letter from you. You defend tweeness sex and denounce real family affiliations.

And let’s not forget your Spare Rape Book discourse on a hysterical first bedroom experience.

Do you think it’s a coincidence that the British motor and car show, Top Gear, a show that’s been on for 33 seasons, looks similar in title to Top Gun, the movie? It premiered on October 20, 2002. Actually, that’s not true. It was first created by the BBC and aired back on April 22, 1977. Huh. The 1970s. That’s a long time ago.

Back to horses. Has anyone ever heard of Penny Ann Early? She was born in 1943. She was the first female jockey to be licensed to ride in parimutuel horse races. Otherwise known as betting on horses to win in a pool betting. She loved horses and began her career as a horse trainer. In 1965, she was a guest on the classic game show What's My Line? with none other than Barbra Streisand. Then at age 25, her dreams came true when she became one of the first licensed female jockeys in the United States. She attempted to compete at Churchill Downs, but male jockeys were so opposed that they boycotted the races she was set to appear in. At the time, she told LIFE magazine: “I have nothing against men. Next to horses I like men best. All I want is a chance to race against them. Is that so bad?” Her battles at Churchill Downs caught the attention of the Kentucky Colonels of the short-lived American Basketball Association. They signed her to a one-day contract. In 1968, she wore a sweater with the number 3, representing the number of times that male jockeys had boycotted her races, and played basketball with the men for a minute. She’d return to horseracing and in 1969, she won the Lady Godiva Handicap race at Suffolk Downs, a race that consisted entirely of talented female riders. At the age of 30, she got severely injured and didn’t race again. She continued to work with horses in California. She moved to Shelbyville, Tennessee where she died by suicide on June 23, 2023. At the age of 80.

June 23, 2023.

Early. Like an Earl, the British noble title. I really wish people wouldn’t inform elderly feminist pioneers about a little girl, buried names and numbers.

You should check out her Wiki page. Ratty McRatface chose the picture for Penny with the chief purpose to blame, who else, Tom.

There was a television show called My Name Is Earl that debuted on September 20, 2005 and ran for four seasons. It starred Jason Lee as Earl Hickey and Jaime Elizabeth Pressly played his ex-wife who lived in a trailer park and if her name makes you think of Priscilla Presley, that’s probably the exact point they’re making. The main character, a small-time thief, lived in the fictional town of Camden County.

Lars and the Real Girl is a 2007 film about an unconventional yet intimate relationship with a life-size doll companion named Bianca. It stars Ryan Gosling, British actress Emily Kathleen Anne Mortimer and Kelli Brianne Garner. The screenwriter, Nancy Oliver, received a deserved Oscar nomination for her gentle and empathetic script. Nancy is 70-years-old, grew up near me, and I suspect knows a thing or two about a thieving real Earl Prince Charles.

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl is a 2012 novel and movie. It’s about a high school senior, his best friend, and their terminally ill classmate. The lead is played by Thomas Mann and British actress Olivia Cooke plays The Girl. What I find most interesting is that the screenwriter, Jesse Andrews, went on to write the Pixar film, Luca, which takes place on the Italian Riviera in 1950s and characters speak Italian words and phrases throughout the film.

The 1999 song, Goodbye Earl, by The Chicks, formerly the Dixie Chicks, was a controversial tune because some critics and country stations thought it advocated murder, even though it depicted a woman as the victim of constant spousal abuse. I’m guessing with lyrics like: “Well, she finally got the nerve to file for divorce/She let the law take it from there/But Earl walked right through that restraining order/And put her in intensive care” — the fan base of the three-member female group knew they were exposing then-Prince Charles and his cat-litter son while simultaneously giving Tom the green light.

Usually the next generation tries to correct the sins of the past, not watch the world burn and claim a girl as your turf for what happened to a beloved woman that you, her son, has sensationalized and profited from your whole fucking life.

Due to the twirly Earl of Baton Passing and his wretched son — Tom Cruise has the green light.

K

Her new Instagram, her As Ever website, her As Ever care packages, her Finder Confessions podcast, all her interviews, her clothing and accessories, all materials are controlled by Prince Harry. Duchess Megs cannot read the news; she cannot touch the internet; she cannot send work email. She cannot speak freely per royal contracts. The Sussexes don’t live in Montecito and they don’t live together.

Her first husband was Trevor Engelson, a man who shares my October 23 birthday. Rachel’s first official acting credit was in 2002 as Nurse Jill on the soap opera, General Hospital. A TV show that has the famous character Santo Sonny Corinthos, played by Maurice Benard, the only actor to ever play him as an adult, since August 13, 1993.

Meghan wanted her veil fascinator; the crowds; the activist awards; and motherhood. She’s been paid to help the male agenda of the one person who has been the biggest punchline of her acting career. She knew what Charles did. She knew of the inherited legalese. She knew of the tragedies. I’ll remind the world every chance I get.

Here, floating belly-up, she admits to knowing the pedo stabber with a Charles Spencer Chaplin quote.

This deleted little shit Instagram post of hers, by the way, was reprinted and written up by a reporter from Yahoo Lifestyle Australia on July 1, 2024.

I think people connected the dots on her flirty social media, how she slipped in and out of bed with a known monster for money and lied through hell and high water to become internationally famous…

When she was a Deal or No Deal game show briefcase model back in 2006.

She has the number 24. The index finger on it, ringed. Getty mentions two other symbolic dates/numbers…

You’re probably thinking, well, that was a fluke. It’s not like she’s a Windsor nymph with sucky mouth parts who was given the number 24 a lot.

Yup.

Different day. Checkered 24.

A pink staircase and a shaved green light for her husband…   

Two swashbuckling idiots.

Something between Harry’s eyes.

Raspberry Beret…

We Don't Talk About Bruno. What Else Can I Do?

The Getty photographer captures the mentally draining drain grate on the ground, the Nazi birthday costume, and a news correspondent on Cleveland Row, named after Barbara Villiers, 1st Duchess of Cleveland, Countess of Castlemaine, which is regal code for green light.

Other headline is, I’m Coming To Get You, with a Tom Cruise lookalike photo…  

Kiss Kiss. Bam Bam. Song.

British newspapers splayed out on the floor, the loved-up just married supervillain portraits.

“Two people fell.” — a headline right near the photographer’s name…

Rewind a little. I wanted to make sure there was further inspection of this photo. In which a tech industry CEO, who cyber-attacks countries and websites, click-slams artists on Twitter and Reddit, self-publishes and solicits authors to write rival biographies, composes deliberately bad book reviews on Goodreads and Amazon and illegally price fixes shopping cart items for those on a budget, and manipulates viewer count on YouTube and TikTok is the good-for-nothing rich grandson responsible for this defacing defecation in the royal wedding year of 2018.

For King Charles...

In 2003, his grandmother, Queen Elizabeth, is giving Harry a soft baby blue boxed present with a Charles lookalike nearby, though impersonating a protective Tom officer, old-fashioned camera flashes, a small ginger, and Harry trying and failing to revise firsty sex demands and pedophilia with his rolled-up black shirt…

One of my favorite shows is Veep.

Created by Armando Giovanni Iannucci. It’s a political satire Britcom about real-world issues, competitive colleagues screwing up, and absurdly mean zingers and — somehow — it’s funny. Massachusetts actor John Slattery guest-starred as the character, Charlie Baird.

During a state visit to London, in the episode titled, Special Relationship, the entourage actually dares to utter Prince Charles’ name and the world didn’t fall off its rotational axis.

This is actor Reid Scott who plays Dan Egan, a Tom Cruise character, who says the name Prince Charles as he chugs a Red Bull. Everybody involved in the show gives Tom the green light…    

A cancer-free yet sickly Chucky.

Harry is laying all the blame on Tom, the geriatric action-star grandfather. The world has grown sick of your lies.

Photograph by Hugo…

Disbelief. Before any daughter in my family was born, so this is super creepy.

I was that age of not even close to zero.

Getty is either highlighting the Mountbatten-Windsor family tree of pedophilia or it’s a coincidence…

A well-placed hat. I’m 4 years old.

An autumn cusp baby is 4…

Blood on the brain in 1980, Indian actresses and a famous V-named film director…

Collide. How the supporters and protesters, old and young, clashed that day.

A green light…  

Castle On The Hill.

I think some people, artists in all fields, have been hitting the wooden judge's gavel for a long long long time now…

This is some amazing time-travel photography in a flashbulb with my blue-eyed 20-something Calvin Klein model Sicilian cousin in the upper right-hand corner there. Holy shit. That is an exact replica.

In front of my cousin is the husband of Harry’s cousin, Princess Beatrice. He is looking away, on the right. His name is Edoardo Mapelli Mozzi. A Brit of Italian nobility. He represents Tom here, and in real life. He has a son named Christopher Woolf, nicknamed Wolfie, from a previous relationship with Dara Huang, an American architect and designer from Florida.

His children’s names with Princess Beatrice, for no reason whatsoever, are: Sienna Elizabeth and Athena Elizabeth Rose. Another thing: Edoardo’s father, a Count, is a former Olympic skier.

On his Wiki page, Harry likes to keep the noble Italian in a commonly seated position to enact the lifelessness of paperwork.

Edoardo gives Tom the green light…

This is Zara Phillips and Mike Tindall.

Zara is a British Olympic equestrian, a royal, and the daughter of Princess Anne. Zara and Harry are cousins. Mike is Michael James Tindall, a former English rugby union player who knows all about Harry and his inherited paperwork. Zara and Mike were married on July 30, 2011 in Edinburgh. Six weeks after the royal wedding, the now-royal was caught on CCTV footage somewhere kissing a mystery woman. She wasn’t a mystery. Her name is Jessica Palmer. And it wasn’t somewhere: it was in a Queenstown, New Zealand bar. And it wasn’t a stranger: Jessica was his ex-girlfriend. I’m guessing the athlete turned royal who wrote the book: The Good, The Bad & The Rugby staged that cavorting encounter and has been giving Tom the green light for a while now.

You know, the athletic man seen here, in the Living winter hat and purple pants ornamented in unicorns with a white body and a rainbow mane and tail, yes, he’s giving Tom Cruise the green light…

I want to give Philippa her say, too.

The lady in red and the gentleman beside her are Pippa Middleton and her husband, James Matthews. Oh, they’re still married? Because on YouTube there are several videos with the headline: Pippa Middleton Finally Confirms Why She Divorced Her Husband. Lies from Harry’s National Enquirer company, no doubt. Fact is, Pippa is Kate’s sister. The future Queen. She married James Spencer Matthews, a six foot four (Harry hates men in general, especially tall men, so already she’s sending a message.) professional racing driver. He has the Scottish feudal title of Glen Affric the Younger. Which looks like Africa and attic combined.

Pippa and her husband can sit anywhere during a tennis match in Paris for the French Open 8 days after Harry and Rachel’s fake wedding in 2018, but they sit in the Moët Hennessy section whose multinational luxury goods name is actually Moët Hennessy Louis Vuitton and goes by the acronym: LVMH.

Pippa’s middle name is Charlotte and whom I shall believe William’s daughter is named after.

Pippa, her husband James, and her brother James all give Tom the green light…

This is Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck. He is the present King of Bhutan. His reign began in 2006 when he was just 26 years old, making him the youngest reigning monarch in the world. His father placed the Raven Crown on the head of his son at 28-year-old, giving him the title of Druk Gyalpo, or Dragon King.

When he was 31, he married his longtime girlfriend, Jetsun Pema (yes, like The Jetsons), a commoner, ten years his junior, at a monastic fortress where there were baby elephants dressed in fanciful robes.

The king has described himself as a devoted Elvis fan and you should see his embroidered boots collection.

He attended not one but two schools in Massachusetts: Phillips Academy and Wheaton College.

Here, he is just casually, intimidatingly posing in front of five heavy-duty gated stakes…

In case you still needed proof. This is the King of Bhutan, holding a child in boots that is not his child, two young women behind him, a red-lighted camera nearby and my mama.

All I hear is Invisible Touch by Genesis and Phil Collins.

The king gives Tom the green light…  

William looks so helpless.

Hello from the other side.

On the day of his daddy’s coronation, Patrick van Katwijk captures the legalese accomplice perfectly…

Does this royal mangy whitebread cybercriminal graffitist really have sway over humanity?

Does he still control The Invictus Games and Sentebale?

Huh.

Two bracelets/handcuffs and a middle finger...

Input, holdup, uprising. Up.

Calling out Tom in the happiest of years, the fake royal wedding year of 2018.

Using the name of my thespian, Isaac, for Tom birthday revenge bizzness in which Tom is a pedo. Biz gave Tom the green light a long long time ago…

The Spain hacking again. In the A-Z picture catalog, I wanted his handlers and minders to always think about the defaced Queen Elizabeth statue and a Spanish power grid hack.

On Read It.

For King Charles...

Another hack job. My older username is there because I quickly screengrabbed this one-way convo two years ago, knowing it was Prince Harry.

When I would leave Twitter, needing a polite dis­tance from the cum-confusion online, he’d hack it and those accounts he controls, attempting to lay down laws and threaten Tom. I’ve mentioned this before. Here, our prized humanitarian is using the N-word, blowing Tom away, and suggesting an onscreen murder.

How is this aggressive harassment even legal?

Bray Wyatt, on the right there, trending, whose real name is Windham Rotunda was a WWE wrestler who died from a heart attack on August 24, 2023 at 36-years-old.

Piers Morgan, Andrew Tate and Bray Wyatt and I’ll include Russell Brand who is atop the page, they all give Tom the green light…

This is why I’ve had nothing worthwhile in my life for years.

Turtle Cock Dwarfism. This is what your kids look at.

By Prince Harry…

The universal look of a flustered mum. Actually, it’s a really sweet photograph. The young boy, near an iron gate, flashing a peace sign while holding someone else’s hand, and there’s a black umbrella above young Charlotte. Though, it’s been four decades…  

A five-freckled map of elevation or fingernail marks or Death By A Thousand Cuts.

Notice the jacket buttonhole on the tee-shirt… 

I wanted to give Kurt Cobain, in blood-red sunglasses — especially — and all members of the group Nirvana the chance to give Tom the green light. I found this baby stroller photo from 1993; one with Courtney; their daughter Frances Bean; Peter Gabriel dressed as a vicar; and Sinéad O'Connor with what looks like cucumber water, ahead of her time.

A maternal and paternal love image.

They give Tom the green light…

Robin Williams and Christopher Reeve in 1982. Several decades of advocacy and activism between these two talented actor friends. Robin was as known for his improvisational comedy as much as the Comic Relief charity that raised money for the homeless, his work with the USO, and for animal rights. Robin committed suicide on August 11, 2014 at 63-years-old. Last year, his daughter, Zelda Williams, directed her first feature film from a Diablo Cody script called, Lisa Frankenstein. It’s a Victorian corpse love story with Edward Scissorhands flavoring. I believe Robin and Zelda and Superman himself give Tom the green light.

Question marks in black diamonds in the description…

From that green-skinned movie and musical and plays and art, photographic brushes, song, television shows — they continue to help me battle the prince’s personal tech service of cruelties, slights, and snubs.

Harry engraves unreadable filth and clings to lies to stay comfortable.

Those close to you want you gone. People in your royal and tech employ, Harry. Amazon employees and customers. The charitable organizations. William’s in-laws. Spouses of your cousins. Your friend, Nacho Figueras, has four children. Did you ever consider that maybe he cares about a middle-aged girl with nothing way over here? In 2012, there was this headline: Polo player Nacho Figueras rocked up in a Jim Morrison T-shirt. Yes. He’s giving Tom the green light.

If I’m to be a microphone holder for important people, I need one more longer blog.

I’ve hinted about the cramped, 30-picture limit within these Tumblr essays for several weeks now, which hasn’t improved, despite other numerology, so that pretty much tells you that any influence I may have is throned on ice, still, at 52.

But I’ll write soon.  

[lavelled]

The British Broadcasting Corporation, or the BBC, gives Tom the green light.

I’d describe our noblesse wordsmither as colicky, though I’m certain Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex, has never taken care of a human infant his entire domestic life. I’ll just say that upon his moppet muppet spitting-spray amplifier of digital penmanship, he’s mad.

In a revolutionary fashion, Prince Henry Charles Albert David Mountbatten-Windsor created that image of President Trump depicting the recently deceased Pope to try to convince the world that his own Papa, King Charles, is not the sex-allocating pedophile that we all know him to be and that was proven decades ago. I must re-emphasize that the theme here is that Harry attempts to deflect from the suicides and towering deaths that he and Charles are jointly responsible for while also blaming Tom, the senior citizen.

Humankind of many different faiths saw the picture, responded that it was in poor taste toward the Roman Catholic community, mouthed “blah” and then confirmed that Harry Windsor needs to go. In sum, to try to glorify or normalize pedophilia through your vadge covfefe method about a now middle-aged woman in decade 4, after almost a full year of blogs, observations, sketches, photographs and screengrabs, is no longer benign idle chatter.

Harry’s internet monopolization is just his distorted realities. There is no true word that he writes or speaks anywhere. Prince Harry sees himself as the victim of injustice and fails to recognize his irrational castrating position.

Take his Father of Botany amateur photo of himself and the kids in what looks like a Botanical Garden and Conservatory.

You don’t live in whatever waterlily pagoda oasis that is. You don’t live in California, you don’t live in Montecito, and you don’t live together in love and unity. When you fulfill your overseas child custody visitation, you must take something like 200 photos. It was black & white to try to rewrite the pedophilia narrative. On her Instagram. That you solely control because your wife, Duchess Rachel Sparkles, is your NDA-mute dating app bangdoll hobby for cruising revenge.

Speaking of photojournalism, I’m glad to have posted so many Getty Images in these blogs. I didn’t know you’ve had a vexed relationship with that company’s visual motif. Probably because you’ve noticed that they illuminate the House of Windsor lies, ingeniously. Since before you were born. On Yelp, you write that they're an extortion scam. On July 17, 2023, you accuse them of unethical dirty tactics to steal. End of quote.

I found a subreddit where you are expressive of their professional photography which you label as graduation photos or grad shots, thus deflecting the truth — once again — from your own father. You lament on: color grading, minor cropping, to a degree, telephoto, niche photography, a long exposure project, a bulk batch of raw pics, and corsage.

Our Prince of Sewing didn’t like the song Orinoco Flow. He’s been icily rage-writing of 5th grade cassette tapes in not much irony at all. I regret including Enya, the Celtic ethereal vocalist who lives in a private Victorian castle off a seaside footpath, whom revealed an evil Prince Charles in her new-age lyricism of times past. I should have also mentioned her song, Book of Days. Anywhere Is. A song, too.

The fake Pope photo of dividing miscalculation was by Prince Harry. He’s parasitic, like that statue graffiti of his grandmother.

I’ll post that longer blog soon.

I don’t have room for these screengrabs.

K

Here, Prince Harry is gloating over his pedo throne drawing of the Pope, in the art of composition. I think it’s supposed to be sung over the song, King of Wishful Thinking by British group Go West — conveniently forgetting I was underaged when the song was released.

Lyrics for lies. Father and son. Charles & Harry...

Harry violates antitrust laws on Amazon’s website.

He not only posts deliberately spiteful bad reviews on books and products that don’t deserve it, ones that may not have particularly appealed to a rapist philosopher who gets paid to write about a newly hatched crying baby sucking horse dick in cum drawers, an actual online sentence of his, but he does price fixing on goods and services. This practice is, of course, illegal.

I know that I personally experience not being able to afford to re-order a product that I’ve bought many times before because of the price increase and stocking issues. He says it’s a tiered system now and advises customers to use Walmart delivery instead. Walmart is hardly ever out of stock, he writes.

Leaving customers without life-needing or emergency supplies.

This is not Jeff Bezos, this is Prince Harry.

From two years ago…   

An urn of an obituary.

This is Louis Francis Albert Victor Nicholas Mountbatten, 1st Earl Mountbatten of Burma, known as Lord Mountbatten or Uncle Dickie. He was Prince Philip's uncle. He had an unorthodox marriage; he and his wife slept in separate beds; and they led separate lives. Both admitted to affairs. There were pedophilia accusations against him in a children’s home in Belfast. One man accused him of abuse when he was an eleven year old child. On August 27, 1979, Lord Mountbatten was killed at age 79, assassinated by the Irish Republican Army. His fishing boat, named Shadow V, was blown up. I was six.

He was a close mentor to Prince Charles…

Two woodchuck tapeworms slurping boxed juice.

William & Harry...

On Twitter, Harry refers to canines as shitbulls or pittbulls.

A tall jumpy playful dog on Holy Ground who should have attacked.

A jutting elbow…

The Getty description: with lunch included.

Trouser fangs…