#van lowe taxidermy

[oldworldwidgets]

one of my very favorite things about fallout 76 that the other fallouts dont have (besides playing with my friends) is the film camera/photomode function. ive taken a few that i really like recently, including some of my newest oc posie who is not a mothman in hiding and on the run from the mothman cultists btw. eyes emoji

she likes to hang out with other cryptids and her best friend meevin, @mae-peachie's 76 oc who is not a sheepsquatch that can hulk out on command btw. they have this very funny dynamic where each of them will kinda slip up and allude to the fact that they're cryptids in hiding and the other will be like "hm? whats up?" and the first is like "HM? OH NOTHING" its very fun

anyway please enjoy my screenshots i love them very much

[spockvarietyhour]

Van Lowe Taxidermy, Fallout 76

[chaosintheavenue]

Back at the one and only.

[lambsquatch]

soooo… aries was definitely a robot fucker right

[bonesxbows]

Old Scars, Future Hearts (Aries x Reader)

My Masterlist

*SPOILERS FOR A SMALL DETAIL WE LEARN ABOUT AFTER STEEL REIGN* By now I think everyone knows Aries' real identity, but if you don't and want to find out for yourself, don't read this.

After hearing a certain holotape, and it getting stuck in your head, you're plagued with reoccurring nightmares. Aries is there to help you through the aftermath of one and some secrets are spilled.

(WARNINGS) - game type violence - described nightmares - minor panic from nightmares

Aries is fucking precious and needs to be protected at all costs. Pls use him more in future updates Bethesda, I need more to his already fabulous storyline

Hope you enjoy! thank you for reading! reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

-

You had crashed for the night in the tent that the Blue Ridge Caravan Company guards and merchants used, courtesy of Aries letting you borrow his cot. You had tried to turn down his offer, told him that you were fine making the walk back to your camp, but he wasn't having any of it so you didn't argue. Truth be told you were too tired to work out a compromise with him anyway. A few minutes past and the ruckus outside the tent calmed down, you laid on the bed and Aries took up guard at the threshold between the tent and outside. You sighed, rolled over, and fell asleep. 

There were no sweet dreams for you, however. Ever since you had explored the Van Lowe Taxidermy shop down in Lewisburg and found that holotape that had recorded Calvin Van Lowe’s last moments down in that basement you couldn’t get the sound of his scream out of your head. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Clavin’s story and Aries’s story were one and the same, which made the holotape even more sickening to you. 

No matter what you did you couldn’t close your eyes without seeing the events from the tape unfold, unable to stop any of it. The way he had seemed so confident in his skills to reprogram the assaultron, the panic in his voice when he had realized the thing had misheard him, and the bloodcurdling scream that followed as the robot clawed and ripped away at him. The echoing “Baa” at the end always waking you up from the horror scene. The horrific and gory nightmare followed you around like an angry ghost, haunting your dreams and making it hard for you to get any sleep. 

The same nightmare plagued you tonight as well, making you toss and turn on the mattress. Aries didn't notice the way you flopped around or how your face twisted in fear, he had fallen asleep standing up, something he had learned from staying with the caravaners for a while. 

The dream unfolded the same way it always did, the insane assaultron slicing into Aries followed by his screams. Screams that sent a shiver down your spine and made your skin crawl with agony. The machine noises stopped and the imposter sheepsquatch, satisfied that Calvin was now down for the count, let out a low rumbling “BAA” that echoed in your ears, and that was when you startled awake, bolting upright in the bed.

“ARIES!” you screamed out, breathing in raggedly. Your hands wouldn't stop shaking and your vision blurred up with hot tears that threatened to fall down your face. 

“What?! What's happening?” he asked in a panic, shoving himself off of the wall of the tent. “Y/n? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He asked you, rushing towards you. 

“I...um...you...I...oh god…” your tears began to overflow and you pulled your hands up to cover your face. 

“Hey, everything’s okay.” He told you as he sat down on the cot, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to him. “Nightmare?” He asked. And even though he couldn’t see your face anymore he could feel you moving your head in a nod against his chest. He gently ran one hand through your hair while you continued to cry, using the other to hold on to you tightly in an attempt to make you feel safe. He could feel your whole body shaking now and it made his heartache to see you so scared, so frightened by something he had no control over. But soon the sobs turned into heavy breaths with the occasional sniffle and the shaking had lessened. 

You pulled away from him, running the sleeve of your shirt over your eyes, clearing any leftover tears. You opened your mouth to say something, but when you looked up and saw the blue gas mask that covered his face, you bit your lip in an attempt to stop the waterworks from starting up again. You focused your gaze on your hands instead. Aries noticed, however. 

“Somethin' wrong? I mean, besides the whole bad dream thing. You almost seem like you’re scared of me.” He reached for one of your hands and you let him take it, still refusing to look him in the face. He ran his thumb over your knuckles. You took a deep breath before trying to respond. 

“I...no, it’s just…” you took another deep breath, trying to find the right words, thankful that he was a fairly patient person when it came to things like this. “What do you know about a Calvin Van Lowe?” You asked. 

“You mean the guy who those dumb sheepsquatch posters talk about? Heard he died in some robot accident. Nasty stuff. What does he have to do about any of this, though? Did you know him before the war or somethin'?” 

You couldn’t help but smile a little bit. His attempt at trying to cover up his past was kinda cute, if albeit worthless. Anyone with half a brain could easily spot the similarities between the scene at the taxidermy shop and the story that Aries told people whenever they asked about his past. 

“Not exactly. I went to that taxidermy shop a while back, the one that’s described on those posters, and found a lot of...interesting things. A lot of blood, no Calvin though. Felt awful about the whole thing, poor guy must’ve been in a world of hurt what with how much blood there was...Found a holotape too, his damn terminal recorded the scene. Calvin was nowhere to be found though. Worst part was I could swear I had heard his voice somewhere before, it sounded so familiar.” You finally had the strength to look at him without fear of crying again, and even with his mask on you could tell he was a little bewildered. Suppose he thought no one would’ve pieced the two stories together and figured it out. 

“You know you’re a lot smarter than you lead on.” He said, tilting his head a little to the side out of admiration. 

“Suppose it helps to keep some things hidden, although...I’m sure you know all about that...Van Lowe.” 

He chuckled softly at the sound of his old name. “Think I see what’s going on now.” His tone fell serious. “This holotape...scares you, doesn’t it? Wouldn’t blame you, Bet it doesn’t sound all that pleasant…” 

The memory of the horrific sounds hit you again, forcing you to look back down at your hands. You twisted and turned your fingers around in an attempt to distract yourself from the screams and mechanical noises that rang through your head. But Aries slipped his hand into one of your own, lacing his fingers with yours and squeezing gently. 

“But look, I’m still here, aren’t I? Even after you found a second one of those bastards over in Harpers Ferry, I’m still alright. And trust me, what happened in that basement isn’t something that’ll happen again. It’ll get more of a fight next time one of them decides to poke their head out.” 

You smiled weakly. His reassurance wasn’t comforting, you didn’t want to think about if, or when, there would be a “next time”. Unconsciously you bit your lip, but Aries was quick to notice your nervousness. He reached down to untie the laces on his boots, taking them off and throwing them to the side. 

“What are you…?” 

“Come here.” Was all he said as he held out his open arms, not even letting you finish your question. You did as he asked and scooted closer to him. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to lay down with him. The bed was small, not made for two people, but Aries’s small frame made it so that it wasn’t an uncomfortably tight fit. You had to admit, feeling the warmth from his arms wrapped around you did make you feel a bit calmer. 

You tried to focus on your breathing, seeing if the rhythm of it could put you to sleep, but instead, all you could focus on was the sound of his breathing. The way the gas mask muffled the sounds when he inhaled and the way he choked out an exhale, hearing his breaths rattle up and out of his body. It was slightly unsettling, making a shiver run up your spine, but it also made your heartache. How painful was the simple task of breathing for him? You could feel your heart rise up in your throat just from thinking about it and you shakedly inhaled, trying to stop a sob from escaping. 

Aries heard all of this though, even if he was half asleep by now. He used his arm that was still wrapped around you to gently and reassuringly give you a small squeeze, running his fingers up and down your exposed forearm. 

“Everything’s alright,” he whispered in your ear, and in your tired state, you wanted to believe him. Maybe he was right, maybe even after all that had happened he had learned to deal with it, he was probably used to some of the pain by now anyway. 

“...Promise?” You kept your voice soft and quiet. You could hear him breathe out in a way that suggested he was smiling under his mask. 

“Promise. You know I wouldn't lie to you.” He moved his head closer to you, burying his face, well, the face of the gas mask he always wore, into your hair, his chin falling near your shoulder. 

You had to agree with him, throughout the few months that the two of you had been together he hadn’t lied once. Well except for the whole Calvin-secret-identity thing. But you supposed keeping that secret was justifiable. 

The more you thought about it the more tired you got and soon fighting sleep off became a losing battle for you. This time in your dreams though there were no imposter sheepsquatches, no blood, no screams. There was only you and Aries, together, safe and sound.

[thefalloutwiki]

Were you previously aware...

that in Fallout 76, the "Discarded letter" addressed to Carver Timmerman refers to Shelley van Lowe and Deborah Timmerman as his "mamas"? In addition to this, quest designer Carl McKevitt has stated that the two gals are in a relationship.

You can find more information regarding Shelley and Deborah's relationship in the Van Lowe Taxidermy terminal entries, which can be found here:

https://fallout.wiki/wiki/Van_Lowe_Taxidermy_terminal_entries#Incoming/Outgoing_Orders

[getfast]

Alex Aniston: The Lesser-Known Brother of a Hollywood Star

Alex Aniston, often overshadowed by his famous half-sister Jennifer Aniston, has a life far removed from the glitz and glamor of Hollywood. While Jennifer’s career soared with iconic roles, especially as Rachel Green on Friends, Alex took a different path, opting for a more private and unconventional lifestyle.

Early Life and Background

Born in 1989 to John Aniston and Sherry Rooney, Alex Aniston comes from a family deeply entrenched in the entertainment world. His father, John Aniston, is a well-known soap opera actor famous for his long-running role on Days of Our Lives. However, Alex Aniston chose to distance himself from the family’s Hollywood legacy. Unlike Jennifer, who embraced the spotlight, Alex has been known for his elusive nature and low-profile existence.

Unconventional Lifestyle

Alex Aniston has led a life filled with spontaneity and adventure. Described as a "free spirit," he spent several years living out of a van, traveling across the United States. His appearance, often characterized by his scruffy look and punk-inspired style, contrasts sharply with his sister's polished, A-list Hollywood persona. Despite the stark differences in their public images, Alex Aniston's life is uniquely his own, filled with a desire for independence and non-conformity.

In addition to his nomadic lifestyle, Alex has dabbled in odd jobs and artistic endeavors, including taxidermy. He sold animal skulls and other curiosities at markets, further setting himself apart from his famous half-sister. Alex Aniston’s choices reflect his desire to carve out a unique path, far from the spotlight that surrounds his family.

Relationships and Family

While Alex Aniston has kept much of his personal life under wraps, it is known that he is a father. He shares two children with his ex-girlfriend, makeup artist Adriane Hallek. Their relationship garnered some media attention, though Alex Aniston continues to avoid the limelight. He is rarely seen at high-profile family events, and his interactions with Jennifer Aniston are largely kept private.

The Media and Alex Aniston

Due to his low-profile lifestyle, Alex Aniston has not been a constant fixture in the tabloids. He occasionally makes headlines when compared to his more famous sister, but he tends to stay out of Hollywood drama. Despite his unconventional life choices, Alex Aniston remains a figure of curiosity for many who are intrigued by his stark contrast to Jennifer.

Alex Aniston is a reminder that not everyone from a famous family chooses the same path. His desire for privacy and independence, along with his non-conformist lifestyle, make him an intriguing figure. While his name may come up due to his relation to Jennifer, Alex Aniston has crafted a unique identity that stands apart from the Hollywood scene.

Conclusion

In the end, Alex Aniston represents the side of fame that many people don’t see—a family member who opts out of the limelight and instead pursues a life of freedom and adventure. While his connection to Jennifer Aniston will always draw attention, Alex Aniston’s story is one of individuality and a desire to break free from the expectations placed on him.

In this blog post, we've explored the life of Alex Aniston, a man whose choices have taken him far from the world of Hollywood, yet have made him a fascinating subject in his own right. While Alex Aniston might not seek the spotlight, his life continues to pique the interest of those who wonder about the family of one of the most recognizable actresses in the world. Read More

[riotshotguns]

that poll i reblogged made me realize . van lowe taxidermy is a haunted house

[crossingdesigns]

✿ mobile tags ✿

• patterns - part 1 •

patterns

interior

wall → wallpapers • windows • balconies • beams • paneling • wall decals • curtains • mirrors • clocks • wall art • calendars • insect collections • taxidermy • framed plants • chalkboards • corkboards

floor → flooring • retro arcade carpets • rugs • doormats • wardrobes • partitions • breezeblocks • screens • walls • doors

designs for customizable items

computer ✿ typewriter ✿ document stack ✿ stacked magazines ✿ magazine ✿ scattered papers ✿ sturdy paper bag ✿ stacked bags ✿ record box ✿ music box ✿ fridge ✿ snack ✿ decorative bottles ✿ table lamp ✿ cube light ✿ lantern ✿ street lamp with banners ✿ table ✿ table mat ✿ simple panel ✿ short simple panel ✿ low screen ✿ retro gas pump ✿ cushion ✿ teddy bear ✿ cutting board ✿ mug ✿ painting set ✿ drink machine ✿ steel trash can ✿ donation box ✿ wooden field sign ✿ tabletop pop display ✿ truck ✿ glow-in-the-dark stickers ✿ castle wall ✿ medieval building side ✿ clothesline ✿ stack of clothes ✿ decorative plate ✿ curtain partition ✿ festival lantern ✿ vertical banner ✿ hanging monitor ✿ paper lantern

face cutout standees

cutout standees ✿ cutout standee illusions ✿ vehicles → vans • camper vans • food trucks • cafe vans • shop vans • buses • cars • trains • boats ✿ walls ✿ doors ✿ ladders ✿ lattices ✿ topiaries ✿ hedges ✿ fences ✿ arches ✿ swings ✿ balconies ✿ landscapes

→ part 2 → back to navigation

[charaznablescanontoyota]

darcy/dakota 11 :3c

11. animal bones

“Why Whistler?”

Dakota knows without looking up from his work that Darcy is staring at him from across the shop. He can feel the other man’s gaze on him like a warm spotlight, can see those wide, intense blue irises in his mind’s eye.

“Why anythin’?” he asks, in reply. He’s working on jewelry behind the shop counter, winding thin wire around one end of a coyote rib, the turns of the needle-nose pliers slow and meditative. He’d almost forgotten Darcy was there in the comfortable silence, too used to being alone.

“You always have a reason for the things you do,” Darcy says. 

His voice is low and patient, as pleasant as if he’s talking about the weather. Dakota looks up to find him - predictably - staring, holding a raccoon jawbone in his hand and passing his thumb over the teeth absently. He looks out of place in the taxidermy shop in his suit and tie, his hair combed perfectly to the side and away from his face. Like a man out of time.

“Aw.” Dakota grins, showing teeth. Showing fangs. “You think I’m deep.”

“I think you rarely choose something for yourself that doesn’t mean anything,” Darcy says, still entirely neutral. “So why Whistler?”

“S’just a name,” Dakota says. “He was a painter.” Honestly, he didn’t put much thought into Whistler. It was a quick alias, really, one that he wasn’t anticipating anyone to recognize the person behind. Another mask between him and the public. No one has to know Dakota Van Andel the taxidermist is Whistler the true crime blogger is the Dentist. No one did know, until Darcy. Dakota can never tell if it makes him feel flattered or overexposed.

“I thought it was because of the sound,” Darcy says, abruptly setting the jawbone back down.

Dakota gives him a look. “What sound?”

“Of breathing through a gap in your teeth.” 

Darcy’s voice is even. It’s impossible to tell if he’s joking. Dakota laughs anyway.

“That’s pretty good, Darling,” he says, leaning forward with his elbows on the counter. “I might steal that.”

[koteosa]

here’s some modern au headcanons for the arcana ... it’s something I think about a lot

Asra

gamer memeing shitlord . he majored in minecraft you cannot convince me otherwise

plays A Lot of minecraft but also just enjoys any similar sort of game, sdv, animal crossing, etc. He’s really good at video games but he’s just fucking around . he likes to play online games and try his best to make everyone hate him in a really harmless sort of way . he heals the enemy spy . changes his display name and avatar to be exactly the same as someone else . tells people to go into the console and type unbindall

he plays games with his friends and he’s usually the top player so he just spends his time spoiling the shit out of his friends giving them good items carrying them through dungeons etc but not Julian, he tells Julian to dig straight down in minecraft . Julian doesn’t ever know what he’s doing in any video game so Asra trains him wrong on purpose, as a joke

anyway enough about video games (for now)

Asra lives in a van that he painted the exterior of himself, it was both a fun project and a very smug way to annoy people with this awful fucking hippie van strolling into town, eat shit

it’s decorated with crystals, furs, fairy lights, mason jars full of food For The Aesthetic, books, etc. It’s very cozy, cottagecore / bohemian and it’s ridiculously obvious that he’s into witchcraft. he just lets Faust explore because this isn’t real and I can pretend that a snake is exactly as well behaved as in a fantasy story

basically homeless by choice

drugs tw but I see him as the type to want to try anything and everything at least once so if he’s ever been offered A Drug (and he crashes parties for fun and for free food, so he’s got opportunities) he’ll try it Just To See, and this has resulted in some bad trips before, but Muriel saw him in the middle of one and then after he sobered up Muriel put his foot down and made Asra agree to only do these things as responsibly as possible, like, with supervision from a friend

still drugs tw but I also see Asra as a stoner but in the cbd edibles sort of way, a lot of this is because I headcanon Asra as having ADD (because I do and I want to project a little bit) so it helps him focus but also he just Likes It. the glove box of his car has like, chocolate/lollipop edibles stuff like that

goes between like super healthy elaborate meals with mushrooms and veggies and fresh meat and shit and then just eating nothing but cheez-its all day

style wise I see him as the type to wear a lot of tank tops, like, the loosest of tank tops so it hangs super low and long and you get some nice cleavage out of it, crystal necklaces, gold jewelry, pride pins/jewelry/etc (trans/nonbinary/bisexual flags), oversized hoodies with loud colorful patterns, joggers and other loose comfy pants, and either boots or slippers

he’s got like... the at home look that’s basically what I just described, and then the away from home look that’s got thirty layers and none of it makes sense and he just shows up in orange crocs With Patterned Socks and everyone who sees him just lets out the heaviest sigh

Asra getting home be like (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a l

He likes to go on long road trips completely at random and saves up money to go on more extensive trips like, out of the continent. It can be really hard to place him at any given time, especially because he’s extremely slow to respond to texts for a whole multitude of reasons. He just fucking vanishes sometimes and he doesn’t get that maybe people want to know where he is. He’s too solitary

He makes money either via street performances (magic, tarot readings, etc) or selling shit on etsy like handmade tarot decks, crystal necklaces, magic charms, etc. He Has Never Worked A Day In His Life and He Will Not Start Now

Responsibility? Don’t know her

People ask him really obnoxious questions sometimes and he makes outlandish lies to tell them for fun . Why do you live in a van? A house killed my parents

In the fall/winter he lives with Muriel or more to the point, he crashes on his couch for a really long time and Muriel’s landlord doesn’t need to know about it for rent purposes

Julian

he’s a highly paid doctor and your mother would love it if you’d marry him if not for the fact that he looks like he never left his teenage emo phase

PIERCINGS

There’s DEFINITELY at least one piercing on his d

he lives with Portia and Mazelinka and tries to handle all their expenses but Mazelinka won’t fucking let him

soundproofed his room but not because he’s a youtuber or anything but because he uh. y’know what I’m gonna let y’all figure this one out on your own

goes to like............. lgbt friendly bdsm clubs every now and then looking for someone to step on him and call him garbage it’s for his mental health you don’t understand

black turtlenecks . silver jewelry . distinguished but Edgy as well, black boots, winklepickers, doc martens, ohmygod this is my SHIT I’m giving him red plaid pants and a reversed cross necklace and a leather jacket that says some radical shit on the back and Lots of Rings . black jeans with tears in the knees and black eyeshadow, demonia boots, leather gloves, hhhhhhOHmy GOD

catch him at home in black leggings and a my chemical romance tshirt with holes in it . he wakes up in the morning with yesterday’s makeup and he just cleans it up a little and that’s good enough

fairly small bedroom because he’s usually never at home, but it’s still pretty clear what he’s into even if it’s not super decorated or elaborate, kind of just Default Room but with his stuff arranged throughout . band posters, black furniture, a bed that looks like a depressed vampire sleeps in it, a bookshelf but most of the books are scattered around his desk, bed, and the floor. there’s a taxidermy skull on display somewhere because it’s just so dramatic you gotta love it

plays a black electric violin

extremely out of tune with pop culture he still listens to 70-00s music and he doesn’t know what a minecraft is or why Asra keeps yelling CREEPER when he comes into the room nor why Portia yells back AW MAN

I googled it and he qualifies as a millennial but I still see him as such a fucking old man who doesn’t know how to use electronics

despite being a doctor he’s so unhealthy . he eats nothing but depression meals (or just, nothing) unless someone forces him to sit down and eat an actual meal . No Julian whiskey does not count for your daily water intake

Malak probably happened because Julian wouldn’t stop feeding every black bird he saw just for the aesthetic and that was like 17 years ago but they still show up at his window expecting almonds or whatever the fuck . he changes houses but they’re too smart . you try to be a cool gothic thespian with a raven that will pose on your arm ONE time when you’re a teenager and they just never stop coming

sad lonely no friends hasn’t been laid in six years because he’s too busy and no longer remembers how to form meaningful relationships. Portia keeps being like so I met this really hot (insert gender here) and like idk I think they’re into goth dudes............... just saying...................... and he’s like am I really so pathetic that I’m going to let my baby sister set up blind dates for me? Yes

would drive something very goth like a hearse or some shit if not for the fact that his family would make sure he ends up in a coffin in the back of it if he drove up in that shit . please . buy a normal fucking car . Julian . oh my god

he starts quoting melodramatic poetry at the slightest inconvenience . he is that “All you did was betray me as I lay sick and festering. You are the definition of dread. My cat stole my fucking garlic bread” meme

been arrested multiple times for general rowdiness but also for political activism . at this point Portia/Mazelinka will just sigh and pay his bail and they don’t even ask what he did this time . how does he still have a job? I wish I knew

theater kid

Muriel

lives in a rundown apartment in the shitty part of town because it’s all he can afford, it’s quiet, and no one will try to visit him (except Asra) because no one wants to go to THAT part of town . but no harm will likely ever befall him because he’s 6′10 and like three million pounds of raw muscle with battle scars like you gonna fuck with that? really?

even if he got robbed it wouldn’t matter because A) he doesn’t own anything B) Inanna will chase the thief away

depression man staying in his quiet rundown dark apartment distracting himself with idle hobbies and taking care of his dog to prevent the encroaching ennui from tearing him a new asshole

changes jobs frequently both because he never stands out therefore never gets taken on full time after the part time trial period, AND to protect himself from the horror of being known

works mostly things like construction, auto repair, dog sitting/walking/etc, woodworking, mostly hard labor but if he can convince granny to let a very scary but completely harmless man look after her bichon frise for the weekend then he’s pretty happy about that

in a similar manner, he orders everything online so cashiers/etc won’t start to recognize him. delivery workers leave everything outside his door and he just drags it inside after they leave like an itazura kitty coin bank

goes camping a lot because staying cooped up in his apartment is super bad for his mental health and he doesn’t like to take walks through the city for a multitude of reasons. he takes Inanna on walks through the woods instead

Asra is his only friend and that’s fine (it’s not fine)

convinced therapy doesn’t work and he wants nothing to do with it

doesn’t like using electronics and only keeps a few things around his house so Asra can use them when he’s around . Muriel has a phone (that Asra got for him) so he can text Asra, check the time, check the weather, google questions, and like, nothing else

pretty much only happy when something is about dogs. he wants to go to the pet store and look at the dogs but he needs Asra to go with him so Asra can distract the workers and Muriel can look at the puppies in peace

dresses in blacks, grays, greens, and browns for the most part, jacket with the hood up, tank tops, dark jeans with tears in them, brown boots with mud stains on them . functional, not particularly stylish, and if he’s going to be in public he doesn’t want to make it easy for anyone to see his face. at home it’s mostly no shirt + sweatpants/joggers/etc. doesn’t accessorize or put in any real effort. he doesn’t care what he looks like (because he’s convinced he’s not much to look at anyway)

lives that super eco friendly life like Asra does but it’s more that he just feels comfortable living like he’s always on a camping trip

he doesn’t want to eat junk like Asra does but if Asra shows up with mcdonalds then well he can’t really say no

the type who uses something until he absolutely cannot use it anymore instead of just buying a new one

has never been to a doctor, dentist, etc Ever. the most he can do is take Inanna to the vet because he loves her so much

drives a very old pickup truck with like, chipped paint and mud stains. he’d take better care of it if only anything in life mattered

didn’t go to school

Portia

I like to think that she took on a groundskeeping job at Nadia’s very expensive large house and they fell in love and now Nadia pays for everything and Portia just spends her time gardening, playing with Pepi, and like idk running a vlogging/gaming youtube channel

200 videos of Pepi on her youtube channel with 4 million views each bare minimum . takes random videos of cats where she has to audio edit it to shit so you can’t hear her high pitched squeals of delight

minecraft let’s play part 30 where her, Asra, Nadia, and Julian play together and it’s extremely chaotic because Asra and Portia decide to gang up on Julian who does NOT know what he’s doing, and then Nadia surprises them all by not being the bigger person and instead tricking Julian into some elaborate trap where he steps on a trapdoor and falls 15 blocks into some lava and he looks up and all he sees is Nadia’s smug fucking avatar looking down at him

nightcore. it’s just not FAST enough

wears sweaters with cats on them. generally dresses in warm colors + brown/green, it’s like a very soft cozy look that you could go camping in or just generally be outside and get grass stains and whatnot. cute, functional

likes to make Julian do things for her like drive her places etc because like, he will. he always will

really likes social gatherings with her friends; sleepovers, beach trips, sitting at mcdonalds and pouring all their fries into a pile etc. tries to get Julian to go with her but he’s Just So BUSY. she makes fun of him and makes him drive her to it, then manages to convince him to stay

cottagecore aesthetic . she just thinks it’s so cute to have the little mason jars and decorate everything with leaves and flowers and BEES and whatnot . would love to live in a little cottage with a farm if she could

her room has a big cat tree in it . green wallpaper with yellow flowers. pressed flowers into books, an extremely cozy bed, fairy lights, it’s very farmy but also there’s a lot of electronics. she’s got a lot of 00s games, like, right in that ps2 sweet spot

nicknames all of her pokemon

she spoils the ever loving shit out of Pepi. She’s got a little cat harness and they go on walks through the park together

I don’t have a lot to say about the other two I Am Sorry

[stone-man-warrior]

January 9, 2021: 2:04 pm:

Local Update:

A walk out to the road was revealing today.

I took a short walk, it's a nice and sunny day out there, but is very cold despite the sunshine.

Conditions at Monroe's are strange in non-descript ways.

At Chartrand's, a large moving truck was parked at the roadside, not in the yard. The truck had graphics that say:

"Bekins Cross Town Movers

Eugene

Coos Bay

Medford"

with a phone number.

The driver and passenger both wore all black. The driver was about 350 pounds, dark hair and beard, passenger was 190 pounds, dark hair, goat beard, both in their late 30's and about 5' 11".

They parked there, made a lot noise, there was booms. and bangs, and thuds... then, some human body sized items were carried from the property and put into the Bekins Cross Town Moving truck.

Myers white Cross Over vehicle came down the road went to 560.

(airplane flying low and slow buzzed my house just now at 2:15pm)

The mail carrier for this route pulled into the Chartrand property at 376 parked and turned on his head lights.

I walked toward Chartrand's wondering why the mail carrier is at Chartrand’s when bodies are being moved around.

The mail carrier was at the Chartrand’s as the Sparacino's were approaching, the sound of a female voice like that of Deb Monroe was clearly heard, but there was no female anywhere around there. The mail carrier driving a red Ford Taurus Wagon, right hand drive, with a white paint stain on the right side front door pulled out of Chartrand's at the time he saw me approach and he drove past me towards the mailboxes, and that is when Sparacino's came down the road to chase me away, I did not go away. The Sparacino's have yet another brand new stolen Cross Over style vehicle, a black one, I was not able to see what kind because that is when Wesely Crowel came down the road and swerved to run me over as I was walking home, he was driving a black Mustang Convertible, tried to run me over, so I took cover near some railing where the creek culvert is at in front of Monroe's.

I walked to the mailbox, the mail carrier was there putting mail into the boxes. He spoke to me, said he was going to back up just at the time I was going to reach for my mail. Then he took a selfie photo of himself, and put the red Ford into reverse to place something into Clyde Baum's 333 mail box.

I thanked the mail carrier for warning me about backing up, and asked if he saw Wesely Crowel try to run me over. He replied "no, I'm a mailman, I don't see anything." He then asked if it was a mail carrier that tried to run me over, I said “no, it was Wesely Crowel in that black Mustang that just drove past you".

Meanwhile, the Sparacino's moved innocently and timidly on their way up to where they live at 545. I was the only one of the group on Jackpine who checked mail, that is unusual, they always try to block me from getting my mail. Today, it was the mailcarrier playing the turn-a-round who blocked me momentarily.

The theme was "Black"

The mail carrier was not participating in the theme part, unless the theme was "Red & Black", which I suspect is the case. Air Support Terror Air Force Colors are Red & Black, and the Air Support Terror Air Force is the US Postal Service, aerial division of "The Stork" terror cell that is USPS in Grants Pass, and nation wide.

======

2:54 pm:

On second consideration, the theme was:

“Black Label Society w/Red Cross-Over”, by Zack Wylde’s roadies.

======

2:39 pm:

I was able to see that Wesley Crowel appears to be alive, is not a taxidermy as he seems to have been the last few times I have seen him on the road, he clearly moved his head and hands this time as he drove by about one foot away from where I took cover at the creek guard rail, and was also wearing black, as was Nicole Sparacino who was driving that new stolen cross over style car, black. There was a passenger in the Sparacino car, I was not able to see who, because that was when Wesley Crowel was coming down the road to run me over.

All of that stuff happened within about ten minutes, from the time I heard loud booming and thud noises while I was on my driveway, to the time I walked out to the road to see the Bekins Cross Town Moving, to the time I saw the mail carrier take a selfie photo of himself and then I got my mail to return to my house, and began to write this immediately.

There was nothing in the mailbox, just air.

===========

5:43 pm:

The mail carrier today is not the regular usual Asian lady who drives the black  Nissan Quest van with Rocker Panel Graphics that say: “Black Jelly Bean“ on it. Today’s mail carrier did not even look like the substitute mail carrier, but was driving the same Ford Taurus Wagon, or one that looks the same as the one the substitute mail carrier drives. The substitute mail carrier looks exactly like the YouTube personality who goes by the name “PewdyPie”. Knowing what I know about the presence of Google operative terror soldiers around here, I am convinced the usual substitute mail carrier actually is the YouTube personality who goes by the name “PewdiePie”, but, that was not him today. Todays mail carrier looked similar, but was not the usual substitute mail carrier. Best description I can give is that of PewdiePie with darker colored hair and shorter beard. Otherwise the fake substitute mail carrier was similar looking to the real one, PewdiePie, who is only the substitute mail carrier for when the Asian lady who drives the “Black Jelly Bean Nissan Quest, is not on the route that day.

The USPS facility on Washington ave in Grants Pass is occupied and is run by Canadian terror soldiers and has a large presence of Famous Rock Star Music Groups who frequent that facility, where they are provided with young girls and boys for whatever they use them for... kidnapped children are collected by the mail carrier terror cell, taken to that facility, some of them are snatched up by actors, musicians, clowns, and magicians, as disposable sex slaves, and are used as target practice at the shooting range that’s across the freeway from the north Valley High School, not far from Flemming Middle School, and Manzanita Elementary School, where many of the victim children used to be kidnapped from, at a time when there were still some US Citizen Children left alive to kidnap from the schools, a long time ago. The US Children are all gone now, all were killed, taken as slaves, and many were trained as terror soldiers. The ones that were taken as soldiers and slaves would be in their 30′s now, or older, since the terror take over happened in around 1998 - 2004 or so,

The baby is on fire, there is no one watching the baby. The baby has been smouldering there, just slowly roasting away, is about done now, all cooked and ready to serve like those rotisserie chickens at the supermarket... except these ones are human, have names, like Sarah, Billy, Jason, Emily, Maria, and Jesus (Hey Zeus) are US Citizen babies that no one will save from the Actors, musicians, clowns, and magicians... the same ones we all love to watch on TV, and listen to on the radio. Those are the people who are cooking the babies.

============

Here is the link to the command orders to do whatever that activity was. I suspect that the person who was wearing the KKK robe last night was killed, could have ignited and launched away due to nitrous ignition, and that all of the Christian terror soldiers have bombs up their asses, that turns them into rocket ships when the gas ignites by the small flame of my Bic Lighter.

http://view.email.americanmusical.com/?qs=fbf219ca30ae02b782312bdbcbb2568285052f4da39c2e27b469927d68ddecee0dfa66e7f805f67b3752e0a106ccbac3c88142bcd7a921f3a345cab8c0d6dab9646bfbd2328e7f86e55e4e1e33445b7e

Also. I did not explain all of what happened at the Fred Meyer gas station the other day, or at the Walgreen’s afterwords.

It’s important that I go ahead and say some of what I left out from the Fred Meyer and Walgreen’s errand run in Dystopia on the 6th of January.

At the Fred Myer gas station, there were a lot of Buses of differing variety. One of them was the Salem Oregon Government style that I included an example photo of on that days Tumblr Post Entry.

When I pulled in for getting some fuel, that white Salem style bus was there at the gas pump next to the pump I usually use. The attendant there was Mark Kiesel of Kiesel Guitars disguised as Fred Meyer gas station attendant. He was doing a “Plug In“ service, where special assassins assume the role of others on the fly to make the hit, a “plug-in”, such as Mark Kiesel playing role of gas station attendant.

They knew I needed fuel before I knew I needed fuel, and were waiting there in the Salem Gov Bus when I arrived there.

So, as I pulled in, I recognized Mark Kiesel, I know who he is, he has been trying to kill me since 1993. Kiesel likes to use explosive guitars for his brand of murder and I have been given more than one Kiesel Guitar in my lifetime, all of them have exploded and killed other people. So, I recognized him, and said so, even with the Corona Mask on. He had some thugs in the Bus with him. One of the thugs had ignited, and burst into bits at the gas station on Wednesday, he ran to the bus and got inside before disintegrating. Then, one of the other thugs got out of the bus, came to where I was standing, to tell me that I had lit his friend’s nitrous tank, and was upset about that. So, I did not want to fuck around, I just ended the argument with my trusty fingernail clipper, and gave the young thug a manicure at neck level, stuck in the throat like a dry graham cracker. That one ran into the Bus with the others, someone mentioned that there was a lot of guitars inside the Bus, and then someone else shouted: “no! don’t open that!”. By that time, all of the occupants of the Salem Bus at the Fred Meyer had been ignited when the first one went in there with a lit tank... the Salem bus drove away quickly. everyone inside was screaming and choking either having been ignited, or stuck in the throat.

(5:24 pm: I think some federal fool may have been there, did not read this account about the dangers that exist here in Grants Pass, and was going to open a guitar bomb, thinking they were stolen guitars in the Salem Bus, when the guy that had the guitar bombs in the Bus is the owner of the company that makes them in CA. Federal fools are still thinking in terms of small potatoes, like petty theft or a single murder or rape, when the theft is that of the whole nation, and the murders are counted by the ten’s of millions with rough estimation, and that rape is the sons and daughters, wives and sisters of the federal fools as they are fucking off looking at petty theft. It seems as though the statement “no! Don’t open that! was the terror bastards from Hollywood terror hit command HQ telling the federal fool not to open the Kiesel Brand Guitar Bomb)

The Salem Bus exploded somewhere out of  view, the explosion was the same quality of sound characteristics as the explosions that were happening around my house on new years eve and on new years day. Very tight, dense, compact sound intense explosion noise, not a “boom”, more of a “Pow” w/snap characteristic. Short, loud, intense explosion.

So, I defended at the Fred Meyer, then went to Walgreen‘s with my car all behaving the way i enplaned, all of the electronics were going hey wire, and the fuel injection was not working as it should, then it all started to work normally after a couple of miles towards the Walgreen’s.

There, I am pretty sure it was Paul Reed Smith who I saw there, he was looking quite old though, and not in the best physical shape I have seen Mr. Smith in before. I thought he was dead from a fight at the Josephine County Jail when he and Zakk Wylde, Lars Ulrich, John Mayer, and Berus Sparacino attacked me inside the jail on June 16, 2020. I also saw my former spouse inside of the jail, but she was on the Sheriff Jailer side of the jail, while I was actually inside of the jail containment area when those people all attacked me there. So, I thought Paul Reed Smith had been killed, but, I saw him at the Walgreen‘s after the Kiesel Salem Bus exploded, so he must have been treated for his injuries, and healed since that time back in June.

The others that attacked at the jail, I still say are dead.

There was talk of “The Bus exploded!” while I was at the Walgreen‘s, and I had to fight one female terror soldier and one male terror soldier, who had a sword at the front checkout that day.

More stuff happened. After today’s Black Label Society Event on Jackpine, I am concerned about one other fellow I will be needing to face here pretty soon, about 5′10″, 40 y/o, blonde hair, long blonde goat beard, w/attractive curvy female mating pair accompaniment person spouse, well built, brick shithouse variety. Those two were at the Walgreen’s and were all upset about the events that took place at the Fred Meyer.

So, that Jackpine Black Parade was about the Salem Bus, and Kiesel of Keisel Guitars in Southern California.

Be advised that these particular terror cell members have access to C-4 explosives, so, that means Micheal Moore of Super Size Me fame, is where the C-4 comes from.

=====================

6:27 pm:

After consideration of the events on Jackpine, I have come to conclusion that the fake mail carrier was trained as part of the Myers terror cell of 560 Jackpine. When he said “I don‘t see anything” I recognize the significance, Is the same as “I don‘t cross anything” and is a Mters specific use of a way to frame someone is not religious, is not Christian. They used to do the statement but with “I don‘t cross anything”, today he said “I don‘t see anything”, where “See” is the Vatican reference. The idea is to make the victim who is not religious appear as someone who is hateful towards the religious people to the extent that they portray the intended victim as someone who refuses to cross their letter “T” or cross their legs when sitting down, because some how that is supposed to help with the frame for a crime if Myers can convince federal officers that the person in question is so hateful that they won’t even cross a T, their arms when standing, or legs when sitting.

Myers, 560 Jackpine is where that fake mail carrier was trained, so, that means Grants Pass Community Church is where the fake mail carrier is a member of the terror cell there, as are many of the hard core “Ye Old English 800″, larger terror cell are also trained. They are the ones who build and operate the killing contraptions I explain here. The Myers and all of the other people around here have access to the people who could send some help, but I am not able to because the bastards control the phones and internet and USPS too. All of the communication is hijacked exactly for when someone tries to contact helpful people.

They used to say: “I don‘t cross anything”. Today it was: “I don‘t See anything”.

======================

The command order came in early today, they had some time to prepare for a chance to have Wesley Crowel run me over, and all of that other bullshit that also happened. I suspect the crew on the road was thinking that I had been injured last night by the one wearing the KKK robe, it’s actually supposed to be a Grim Reaper terror attack disguise, comes w/sickle, and is usually worn by the terror Air Force General, Janice “Jay-Bob” Freeberg, as “The Grimm Freeberg”.

Don‘t ask...

It used to be a Ted Nugent song. I like that “Box Canyon Spaghetti Western“ bass sound they have going on here:

============

4:07 pm:

There is a very high likelihood that those “Boomm, bang... thud, thud...” sounds I heard coming from Monroe’s front driveway was the sound of not one, but two African Lions inside of another truck or van at the Monroe terror cell while the “Bekins Cross Town Movers” was a distraction service done by Safari terror cell. There is likely to have been Federal Fools there on steak out, who insist on being fooled all of the time by the local authorities.

“Bekins Cross Town Movers” = “Beacon Ave Department of Motor Vehicles”

Trust me, that’s what it means. They are the Safari terror cell along with the courts, sheriff, state police, all of the top level government in Oregon is the Safari terror cell... think of it as “One Hour Martinizing”.... delivered with Kings.

=============

4:21 pm:

Other sounds, noise, ground shaking that happened today is worth a mention:

At about 11:00 am -12:01 pm or so... a loud boooom was heard coming from the direction of Strong’s and Chapman terror cells on Russell Road. The sound was accompanied by the ground, or house shaking, My interpretation was that of either a small airplane crashed nearby, maybe near the train tracks to the west, or, a car hit a tree. It was not an explosive sound, it was more of the sound of impact, and was substantial, shook the house.

===============

4:31 pm:

A Butterfly flaps it’s wings in China, makes a hurricane in Texas.

I have a memory of something about the symbolism of Toyota Prius’ for terror considerations:

A place called Sun Valley Studios is somehow associated with Power, and the Prius.

Twenty years ago or more my family went rafting on the Rogue River as we did daily sometimes in the summertime, back when there still was some remnants of freedom in Oregon. On this one particular river raft trip, there was a man on a catamaran style raft, had been doing some drinking while boating, was alone, and talkative and friendly as we passed by rafting on the Rogue. The man explained that he was the San Bernardino County Sheriff, and was excited about new acquisitions at the San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Office, where he said the county supplied the Sheriff with 500 Toyota Prius’ to use as patrol squad cars.

San Bernardino is the biggest county in USA, covers a lot of ground, is mostly harsh desert. I am anticipating some challenges associated with Toyota Prius squad cars in that kind of environment.

Although I don‘t have a conclusion for why that is important, I do know it is important, and I believe that man was indeed the county sheriff of San Bernardino. I don‘t know why he was so excited about it, or, why he felt he needed to explain any of that on rafting trip on the Rogue River more than a thousand miles from where he came from.

Somehow, today’s events on Jackpine remind me about that conversation so long ago, but I don‘t know why. So I wrote it down.

Also, I am reminded of the very best guitar player I ever knew, he was not famous, but was forced to be non-famous, as a slave who does backstage guitar playing while the famous guitar players fake it onstage. If I say who he is, they will kill him, and get another slave guitar player to do the live show from backstage.

==================

7:09 pm:

Here is example of that Norton pop-up window that shows up as I come back into my house after I take a walk. I just now went outside, walked around, the Monroe’s heard that I had gone out there with the listening devices, then turned on the whining noisy sound they play at their fresh water well, it’s speaker connected to an amplifier, is operated with Blue-tooth, to make an unpleasant noise that whines a high pitch frequency, is only done to aggravate me and spoil any existence of a peaceful moment outdoors.

Then I go back into the house and there is this pop-up, it only happens when I come back from a short walk outside.

===================

7:16 pm:

(Centurylink ISP is still turning off my number pad on my keyboard, when I want to use a numeral, I have to push the “Num Lk” button each time I want to use a numeral, if I don’t and use the number pad while it’s turned off, the cursor goes flying somewhere up the page, I loose my place, and all of this kind of fuckery makes it difficult to remember what the heck I wanted to say about all of this complicated kinds of terror so that I can get free of it with some help from the people who I am writing this for.)

I wanted to say about that San Bernardino Sheriff with the 500 Prius’:

My read about that includes but is not limited to the 500 Series of recording and studio effects used at professional sound studios. He was making a statement about 500 Series effects, and doing so by substitution of a electric car fleet. Maybe he was saying that he is getting an enema from the professional recording studios, so to speak, about some kind of distress he may have been in at the time.

When I lived in Riverside, I had some friends who were police. They may have come to find me, sent that guy, to say something, because I used to have some connections to music and recording studios... maybe he thought I could help him somehow, even if that help was just some sharing of terminology or standards in the recording industry. I don‘t know. It was something that I am remembering for a reason, was just a rafting trip where someone had a conversation with me as we floated by one another, of thousands of those, I remember that guy on the catamaran raft.

Go learn about 500 Series Effects, they are readily available in all configurations at Vintage King Audio in Hollywood, and in Nashville Tennessee, if you want to help figure out why 500 Toyota Prius’ are important to talk about on a river float.

The 500 Series are Rack Mount Effect Modular Components. The significance is the “Rack”. Medieval style torture rack.

There is one at 520 Jackpine at least some of the time.

It stretches people to 9 feet in length, not counting arm length, is very unpleasant, that is what it’s for, to get people to say personal and sensitive security information.

The ones who are on the Rack, are presented as they are tortured, to others among the group the victim belongs to, so, those other people are given the Spanish Inquisition, to say important information, if it’s not satisfactory to Myers of 560, then they crank the handle where the loved one is being stretched out. All of the people who are captured are injected with heroin, and exposed to nitrous gas. The captors don‘t like it when the victims make noise or scream, so that is what the heroin is for, to keep all involved as comfortable as possible during the ordeal. The victim on the Rack is given a view from a mirror, so they can see what shape they are in. It’s horrible. Happens next door for the past 24 years or so.

=================

8:02 pm:

The American Music Supply Command Orders:

There is much to look at, some is obvious with some pre-requisite understanding, some is not so obvious. One thing I saw in there that may be easily overlooked is that the featured guitars run the spectrum of available string elevation above the guitar body. Have a look at how high the strings are elevated above the guitar bodies of the featured selections. The names are also revealing. That Zakk Wylde crimson model is the lowest string elevation I have ever seen, in comparison to that other big hollow-body, there is a lot of difference going on with string elevation and at least one of those guitars has EMG style Active Pick-Ups, are powered, so, that is the comm, that Power Lines are of importance, and that is the elevated strings, the power lines, to say “Rocky Mountain Power” terror cell. You may be able to take more from the product specifications to arrive at Safari Terror Cell, if you want to do your own research to find truth.

The “Black Label Society” is in the comm too, to me, that seems to say something along the lines (lions) of:

“Signs Hanging all over the Dark Knowledge of Social Orders” or, simply put, the terror bastards are not happy about being exposed in their ways in such great detail so often, and want remedy to return the Darkness back over those dark secrets that have so much light on them.

=======

8:17 pm:

Dean Zelinsky

Gibson

Eastwood

Zakk Wylde

Breedlove

All of those and more, are guitar makers who have sent people to kill me. I am beginning to see a pattern, over the past 20 years and more.

So, there is also going to be Chapman Guitars in Britain.

Most unusual, could be bait, is Crimson Guitars, look on YouTube, looks like bait Guitar maker, however, the man who owns Crimson Guitars also has his own line of stains and finishes, so, maybe not bait, maybe a hit Luthier like the others.

If it says “Crimson“ on it, on any product, it’s likely to be a Vatican terror product.

Also, consideration of Keisel Guitars business model (after Mark killed the real owner and took over Carvin Guitars in Escondido, is that the guitars are only sold direct, not available in stores. The significance is in association to UPS, USPS, and Fed Ex all having been hijacked, controlled by the Christian terror army. The “Direct Sale” business model of any and all such direct sale products opens doors to unique ways of doing Murder & Replace terror tactics. Kiesel ships an order from a customer who was shown the product line by the Guru at Guitar Center. The customer see’s that the guitars are top notch, Vatican Choir Grade instruments, for a reasonable price for what you get, and Kiesel ships out the order, which is followed to the address by Keisel terror cell murder thugs. The customer is killed. Someone else moves in to the customers home. So, find the available used Keisel Guitars that may exist on Ebay, Craigs List, or Reverb and there may be ways of tracking who bought those new, why they are for sale used, and where the shipping went to when sold as new. Other important information can be gained by finding a few used Kiesel guitars to study how it was delivered, and it’s life story. That will also work for other “Direct Sale” products, any product, not just music equipment. I think Robert Keeley is also a “Direct Sale” business model. “Direct Sale” = “Straight to Jesus” and fits the Ann Wilson style associated to “Straight on for You”.

The guy who builds Crimson Guitars does seem like bait to me... very special terror operative network there is possible, maybe all the way to the Vatican Choir Central HQ because they have fail safe systems in place, bait, in case public safety persons catch on to the guitar and it’s position at the very top of the global terror pyramid. The idea is to put out there a sacrificial lamb, such as Crimson Guitars, so that no one will notice the monsters, Gibson. Epiphone, Gretch to name three monsters. Fender is a little different somehow... not sure how, but the “Made in Mexico” is what is called a “Golden no-no” as a blanket statement about “Made in Mexico” and that is complicated beyond what I have studied, except that Eric Clapton used a Fender for the purpose that Fender would be hijacked, he gave the “Foot in the Door” when he chose a Fender back in the days of Cream. So, Crimson Guitars could very well be backed with safety measures to lure police there, so that they will no longer look for Guitar terror connections to the Amp Guru, at the top of the Pink Floyd Pyramid, where David Gilmour and Roger Waters, sit, as Amp Guru.

I used to really enjoy playing my guitars. It was not long ago really, but, five years is too long to not be allowed to play my guitar. I am upset about that. I want to play my guitars, and, I want my cookies and milk too. So, the terror bastards arranged that I cannot play my guitars, and, they poisoned the cookies and milk.

I am upset about that.

So, I say fuck ‘em. Take all of the terror musicians out, let God sort them out later on.

========

9:24 pm:

They won‘t let me play my drums either, so fuck those guys too. Go to Drum Workshop in Ontario Ca, they do international terror through the Ontario International Airport, but be advised that the Ontario Airport is controlled by SAG, with protection from Gavin Newsom and the Canadian/Christian terror army, is a danger zone, code yellow, for caution is advised there. Newsom is dead now though, so no more help from there, he came to kill me, with Adam Sandler, neither of them have been seen since, except with old reruns of news real provided by the terror pansies of the news media. Sandler cried like a third grade girl when he did not get his way. They only act tough, in real life, they cannot survive.

==============

New Jersey.

It’s known as Oregon’s sister state. Both are the only states where self service at a gasoline pump is prohibited by law. They have it worked where the gas stations have a lot of unnoticed control over the inhabitants of the states. You are expected to remain in your car, not supposed to get out to stretch your legs. It’s not required that you stay in the car, but the inhabitants of the state all know about the medieval torture racks, so, getting out for a stretch, could lead to an extended time of it, so to speak.

There is more control associated with mandate of prohibition of self service than is apparent, it seems like a luxury, is a ball and chain. You are tethered to the inside of the car, if you get out, the gas station attendants double team you, triple team you, toss you into a waiting bus, for breaking the rules. To step out of the car is not a government mandate as is the pumping of the fuel, getting out of the car is “Forbidden“, and that is far worse a crime than just pumping your own fuel.

AMS says there is to be a “50% Off Sale” at my house tonight... God will be busy sorting out the AMS assassins by the morning.

Arrived at 3:02 pm this afternoon.

This one is a Ford Ranchero, 302 V-8. AMS is specific, there will be a cross-bow on the ranch, with some arrows, makes me a Jolly Rancher then.

Time to head ‘em up, and move ‘em out, pilgrim... we are going to Santa Monica, to see the Fuller Brush Man, Robert Fuller of Fulltone. The stuff he makes is built like a brick shit house, indestructible. Looks like I have been made.

============

Vintage King Audio says they are bringing a Torture Rack, and are upset about having been burned.

Arrived at 2:54 pm this afternoon:

(you have to read the fine print to appreciate it)

Some highlights of the weeks terror titles in the email commands from On-High:

Other email account is all junk. I am seeing a pattern though, Ally Invest of Bocca Rattan only sends a statement notification when the rock stars and Luthiers come to try to kill me.

I am still trying to reach Pittsburgh... it’s 10:27 pm, still there is no response from Pittsburgh. It’s been weeks since I first tried, this go ‘round.

===========

10:31 pm:

If anyone happened to have been outside about a half hour ago and heard all of that horible screaming, that was Myers of 560 torturing a house cat, to punish me for writing these cries for help. They collect the house cats of the victims they kill, and when I go take a walk, the torture one or more of the house cats, some times the cats are electrocuted, sometimes they are put into a microwave oven, sometimes it’s more gruesome. They also put infant babies into the microwave to get the parents to take the child to the hospital when the child won‘t stop screaming and seems to have a high fever. The Myers are able to use the nitrous gas, and keys to any home, because the sheriff has ways of getting the keys. all they need to do is arrest someone, make it all look legit, and then they have the keys so that Myers can do the murder, or torture, or plant a listening devise later on... they don‘t want to kill you right away, they need to torture you, your baby, and your house cat first, to make you talk, to say what they need to know before they kill you. With me, they make sure I can see or hear the result of torturing animals that they catch by using the nitrous gas to catch the animals so that the can torture them, to terrify me, while I get blamed for the dead cat tomorrow.

Myers looks like an innocent old church lady. I don‘t have a chance against that kind of defense.

When the Myers used to be more in my face about the things they do, they would begin to torture the animals, while saying that the animals are different than people are, “the animals don‘t feel pain” they say, then begin to really hurt the animals real bad, and then say: “See, if the animal could feel the pain, then they would tell me, and ask me to stop doing this, so, it must be God’s will, otherwise this would not be happening right now.”

Juseph Myers has brought very small children to my front door, knocked, then when I open the door, he cuts the child’s head off. Right there on the front porch. I call the police, and they say to stop calling the police to make that stop happening.

==============

10:53 pm: There are no signs of helpful people anywhere to be found.

=====================

1-10-2021: 2:59 pm:

[spockvarietyhour]

[corsairesix]

Single Player Fallout 76: Cryptids

In a single player version of Fallout 76, I would want to make the cryptids more special, which unfortunately means making them rarer. Instead of randomly encountered enemies, they would instead be associated with certain quests. At the end of these quests you can either kill them or deal with them peacefully. If you deal with all of them peacefully or kill all of them, you get an associated perk.

Mothman:

I wrote a lot about Mothman and his cult here.

Overall this would be the most involved of all the cryptid quests (because it’s Mothman, the main character of cryptozoology). You would have to complete the entire Cult of Mothman questline to summon Mothman.

Also unlike other cryptids, Mothman gives you a reason to go back to him (most cryptids disappear or just hang out peacefully if spared). If spared, you can return to Mothman and get cryptic clues about quests that you are doing, similar to Mama Murphy’s sight in Fallout 4.

The leaders of the cult of Mothman are described by other characters as having something not quite human about them, although by all appearances they are regular people. Their names are Indrid, Demo, and Karl.

Flatwoods Monster:

I covered some stuff with the Flatwoods Monster here as well.

You escort the alien abductee through Flatwoods, where you can either stay until night at their inn or take him to the clinic for his paranoia.

If you take him to the clinic, you can tell the Responder working there to either have him treated by Dassa or Nurse Scott.  Both will treat his paranoia and calm him down so he doesn’t want to kill the Monster.

If Dassa treats him, he will just want to take pictures to prove he was telling the truth.

If Scott treats him, the two of them will want to capture the Monster to interrogate it. They ask you to help them set up a trap to capture it, and ask a few questions. The Monster doesn’t answer in any known language, but Scott fills up a few holotapes of data. If you take this option, you can decide to kill it or release it.

Whichever option you take, the abductee says that it wasn’t the creature that abducted him, and he’s going to keep researching until he finds it.

Grafton Monster:

I wrote about the Grafton Monster quest here.

In order to get the Grafton Monster call, you must visit Shelby O’Rourke, who a local cryptozoologist in Grafton claims was coming to visit Grafton but never showed up. She was mistakenly arrested by robot prison guards and locked up in the Eastern Regional Penitentiary. You have to spring her out to continue.

Snallygaster:

The Snallygaster should be a bit more birdlike in order to resemble descriptions of the cryptid.

The runt Snallygaster is a companion found at the Crashed Space Station. He is friendly toward you.

The Trappers in Huntersville (or other Huntersville npcs if you’ve gotten rid of the Trappers), have been hearing strange noises from the Southwest and want you to check it out.

This leads you to find...

Dwayyo:

Spruce Knob is a site populated by Dwayyos, fluffy bushtailed wolf-like humanoids.

They speak a strange language, but are intelligent, and have saved a written history on the terminals there.

They were created by West-Tec as intelligent hunters to catch and kill the Snallygasters that accidentally escaped the FEV lab.

They have found that the Snallygasters are in the Spruce Knob Lake.

They need data from West-Tec to find the Snallygasters’ weakness.

Once you find out their weakness (irrational fear of septagrams) you can return to the Dwayyo. You can either convince them to use this against they Snallygasters (which will result in the Dwayyo winning the battle), lie and tell them there is no weakness but that they should fight anyway (which will result in both groups killing each other), tell them there is no weakness but that they should try to tame them (speech check, will result in the Dwayyos’ deaths), or tell them the weakness and that they should try to tame them (lower speech check, will result in them successfully creating a Snallygaster farm).

If you do convince them to create a Snallygaster farm, they will relocate to Spruce Knob Campground with the Snallygasters. They will provide you with free acid and asbestos produced by the Snallygasters once a week. If you create a Settlement at Spruce Knob, they will transfer the scrap directly to the Workshop. The quest to reclaim Spruce Knob will not be given until this quest is completed.

Sheepsquatch:

The Sheepsquatch quest more or less follows the Lying Lowe questline that begins here. You try to solve the mystery of the missing Calvin van Lowe, whose sister is trying to find him.

Some major changes are: the quest now takes place post-war, relatively recently (enough that his sister Shelley is still looking). Calvin, Bo Peep, and Wolf are now hired by Hornwright rather than Bysshe, since it doesn’t make sense for a natural gas company to be invested in Sheepsquatch robots. Hornwright is trying to create fear of the Sheepsquatch around Lewisburg so that the town will hire more Coalition protection and the Coalition will solidify their control over them (Scooby-Doo-villain-style).

Once the Imposter Sheepsquatch kills Calvin and escapes, Hornwright disavows the project. Once you find the basement, Wolf is alerted to your activity and approaches you in Lewisburg. He asks you to go to the Garrahans to ask them for some pre-war anti-robot tech from when they were still rivals with the Hornwrights. From there he sets up the pylon trap like in the normal game.

Rather than a big multiplayer raid boss, you just have to activate all three pylons to shut the Imposter Sheepsquatch down.

A day later Wolf contacts you saying there’s been an attack on the pylons by the real Sheepsquatch. It was repelled by the electricity, but one more attack could set the Imposter Sheepsquatch free. You need to go down to Calvin’s lab to retrieve a hunting subroutine, which will reprogram the imposter Sheepsquatch to hunt down the real one and then return. If you want, you can take the Sheepsquatch mating ritual holotape and install that instead of the hunting one. If you do the second, it will run away peacefully with the real Sheepsquatch. If you choose the hunting subroutine, you must follow it and Wolf, and help them fight the Sheepsquatch.

Batsquatch:

I covered pretty much everything about the Batsquatch quest here.

Yahoo:

Yet another ‘squatch, this time not a hybrid of any sort, just a standard bigfoot.

The survivalist who runs Camp Venture believes that there’s something in the woods of the Mire, and wants to go hunt it down. He knows it’s in the area near Ella Ames’s bunker.

From there, you have to track it by the sound of its call, a “Yahoo” noise. You find his hideout in the Excelsior Model Home and have to investigate there. There is a lot of evidence that the Yahoo is intelligent. There is a hard speech check to convince the survivalist to stop the hunt.

If you don’t pass the speech check, you have to kill the survivalist to save the Yahoo, although shooting him with a disabling syringer works as well. If you follow the Yahoo’s calls, you can find him near the Gulper Lagoon. If you give him the things you took from his house, he will be peaceful.

Megalonyx:

Even though the game doesn’t list it as a cryptid, I’m including the giant sloth here because 1) there are giant sloth cryptids described in both Appalachia and Virginia and 2) unlike Radtoads or Radstags or Yao Gui, there are no native sloths in West Virginia to mutate from radiation.

You find the megalonyx as part of companion Teddy McDonald’s personal quest. To become a Nuka Scout, Teddy must do a Nuka Scout Project, which involves a significant contribution to the Pioneer Scout Troop. Teddy wants to kill a cryptid.

You go to the Ranger District Office in the cranberry bog to see if they know where to find a cryptid. The two rangers there know of a large animal that they think might be a large beaver in Creekside Sundew Cove. One of them hopes you go out and kill it, but the other wants you to tag it with a tracker for study, which can be accomplished with a syringer or a very high stealth skill.

If you don’t kill it, you will either have to convince Teddy to do something else for a project, or go to van Lowe Taxidermy to learn how to make a fake giant sloth head.

Abbagoochie:

The Sons of Dane have a problem with a beast they call the Nightstalker. On nights where they party in their compound, whenever someone leaves to take a walk they are torn apart by some unknown entity, leaving behind only a pile of bones.

There are two ways to deal with this. You can create a lot of noise to attract the Abbagoochie, something that looks like a cross between a monkey, owl, fox, and deer. Then you can kill it, but be careful! It deals a lot of damage very quickly.

You can also create a bigger monster to scare it away. This requires a lot of steel, springs, gears, leather, and cloth, as well as any type of scary mask found in the wasteland. Examples include things like Fasnacht Masks from Helvetia. If you do this option, you have to wait until the following night to see if it works. The Sons of Dane will have their party as usual, and the Abbagoochie will appear, see the constructed monster, and run away.

Wendigo:

I didn’t include the Wendigo for two reasons.

The first is cultural appropriation. Unlike other cryptids on this list, the Wendigo is a specifically Native American myth.

The second is game design philosophy when it comes to the cryptids. I want them to seem special and cool. The way that the Wendigo was implemented, it just felt like “ghoul but scarier.”

I may also put the Ogua, a two headed turtle, somewhere in the Mire. Right now I don’t have a story for it though.

[stender04connolly-blog]

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Michael Jackson: The Human Being Behind The Superstar By Paris Jackson

Paris Jackson: Life After Neverland (Rolling Stone Interview )

In her first-ever in-depth interview, Michael Jackson's daughter discusses her father's pain and finding peace after addiction and heartache

Paris-Michael Katherine Jackson is staring at a famous corpse. "That's Marilyn Monroe," she whispers, facing a wall covered with gruesome autopsy photos. "And that's JFK. You can't even find these online." On a Thursday afternoon in late November, Paris is making her way through the Museum of Death, a cramped maze of formaldehyde-scented horrors on Hollywood Boulevard. It's not uncommon for visitors, confronted with decapitation photos, snuff films and serial-killer memorabilia, to faint, vomit or both. But Paris, not far removed from the emo and goth phases of her earlier teens, seems to find it all somehow soothing. This is her ninth visit. "It's awesome," she had said on the way over. "They have a real electric chair and a real head!"

Paris Jackson turned 18 last April, and moment by moment, can come across as much older or much younger, having lived a life that's veered between sheltered and agonizingly exposed. She is a pure child of the 21st century, with her mashed-up hippie-punk fashion sense (today she's wearing a tie-dye button-down, jeggings and Converse high-tops) and boundary-free musical tastes (she's decorated her sneakers with lyrics by Mötley Crüe and Arctic Monkeys; is obsessed with Alice Cooper – she calls him "bae" – and the singer-songwriter Butch Walker; loves Nirvana and Justin Bieber too). But she is, even more so, her father's child. "Basically, as a person, she is who my dad is," says her older brother, Prince Michael Jackson. "The only thing that's different would be her age and her gender." Paris is similar to Michael, he adds, "in all of her strengths, and almost all of her weaknesses as well. She's very passionate. She is very emotional to the point where she can let emotion cloud her judgment."

Paris has, with impressive speed, acquired more than 50 tattoos, sneaking in the first few while underage. Nine of them are devoted to Michael Jackson, who died when she was 11 years old, sending her, Prince and their youngest brother, Blanket, spiraling out of what had been – as they perceived it – a cloistered, near-idyllic little world. "They always say, 'Time heals,'" she says. "But it really doesn't. You just get used to it. I live life with the mentality of 'OK, I lost the only thing that has ever been important to me.' So going forward, anything bad that happens can't be nearly as bad as what happened before. So I can handle it." Michael still visits her in her dreams, she says: "I feel him with me all the time."

Michael, who saw himself as Peter Pan, liked to call his only daughter Tinker Bell. She has FAITH, TRUST AND PIXIE DUST inked near her clavicle. She has an image from the cover of Dangerous on her forearm, the Bad logo on her hand, and the words QUEEN OF MY HEART – in her dad's handwriting, from a letter he wrote her – on her inner left wrist. "He's brought me nothing but joy," she says. "So why not have constant reminders of joy?" 

She also has tattoos honoring John Lennon, David Bowie and her dad's sometime rival Prince – plus Van Halen and, on her inner lip, the word MÖTLEY (her boyfriend has CRÜE in the same spot). On her right wrist is a rope-and-jade bracelet that Michael bought in Africa. He was wearing it when he died, and Paris' nanny retrieved it for her. "It still smells like him," Paris says.

She fixes her huge blue-green eyes on each of the museum's attractions without flinching, until she comes to a section of taxidermied pets. "I don't really like this room," she says, wrinkling her nose. "I draw the line with animals. I can't do it. This breaks my heart." She recently rescued a hyperactive pit-bull-mix puppy, Koa, who has an uneasy coexistence with Kenya, a snuggly Labrador her dad brought home a decade ago.

Paris describes herself as "desensitized" to even the most graphic reminders of human mortality. In June 2013, drowning in depression and a drug addiction, she tried to kill herself at age 15, slashing her wrist and downing 20 Motrin pills. "It was just self-hatred," she says, "low self-esteem, thinking that I couldn't do anything right, not thinking I was worthy of living anymore." She had been self-harming, cutting herself, managing to conceal it from her family. Some of her tattoos now cover the scars, as well as what she says are track marks from drug use. Before that, she had already attempted suicide "multiple times," she says, with an incongruous laugh. "It was just once that it became public." The hospital had a "three-strike rule," she recalls, and, after that last attempt, insisted she attend a residential therapy program.

Home-schooled before her father's death, Paris had agreed to attend a private school starting in seventh grade. She didn't fit in – at all – and started hanging out with the only kids who accepted her, "a lot of older people doing a lot of crazy things," she says. "I was doing a lot of things that 13-, 14-, 15-year-olds shouldn't do. I tried to grow up too fast, and I wasn't really that nice of a person." She also faced cyberbullying, and still struggles with cruel online comments. "The whole freedom-of-speech thing is great," she says. "But I don't think that our Founding Fathers predicted social media when they created all of these amendments and stuff."

There was another trauma that she's never mentioned in public. When she was 14, a much older "complete stranger" sexually assaulted her, she says. "I don't wanna give too many details. But it was not a good experience at all, and it was really hard for me, and, at the time, I didn't tell anybody."

After her last suicide attempt, she spent sophomore year and half of junior year at a therapeutic school in Utah. "It was great for me," she says. "I'm a completely different person." Before, she says with a small smile, "I was crazy. I was actually crazy. I was going through a lot of, like, teen angst. And I was also dealing with my depression and my anxiety without any help." Her father, she says, also struggled with depression, and she was prescribed the same antidepressants he once took, though she's no longer on any psych meds.

Now sober and happier than she's ever been, with menthol cigarettes her main remaining vice, Paris moved out of her grandma Katherine's house shortly after her 18th birthday, heading to the old Jackson family estate. She spends nearly every minute of each day with her boyfriend, Michael Snoddy, a 26-year-old drummer – he plays with the percussion ensemble Street Drum Corps – and Virginia native whose dyed mohawk, tattoos and perpetually sagging pants don't obscure boy-band looks and a puppy-dog sweetness. "I never met anyone before who made me feel the way music makes me feel," says Paris. When they met, he had an ill-considered, now-covered Confederate flag tattoo that raised understandable doubts among the Jacksons. "But the more I actually got to know him," says Prince, "he's a really cool guy."

Paris took a quick stab at community college after graduating high school – a year early – in 2015, but wasn't feeling it. She is an heir to a mammoth fortune – the Michael Jackson Family Trust is likely worth more than $1 billion, with disbursements to the kids in stages. But she wants to earn her own money, and now that she's a legal adult, to embrace her other inheritance: celebrity.

And in the end, as the charismatic, beautiful daughter of one of the most famous men who ever lived, what choice did she have? She is, for now, a model, an actress, a work in progress. She can, when she feels like it, exhibit a regal poise that's almost intimidating, while remaining chill enough to become pals with her giant-goateed tattoo artist. She has impeccable manners – you might guess that she was raised well. She so charmed producer-director Lee Daniels in a recent meeting that he's begun talking to her manager about a role for her on his Fox show, Star . She plays a few instruments, writes and sings songs (she performs a couple for me on acoustic guitar, and they show promise, though they're more Laura Marling than MJ), but isn't sure if she'll ever pursue a recording contract.

Modeling, in particular, comes naturally, and she finds it therapeutic. "I've had self-esteem issues for a really, really long time," says Paris, who understands her dad's plastic-surgery choices after watching online trolls dissect her appearance since she was 12. "Plenty of people think I'm ugly, and plenty of people don't. But there's a moment when I'm modeling where I forget about my self-esteem issues and focus on what the photographer's telling me – and I feel pretty. And in that sense, it's selfish."

But mostly, she shares her father's heal-the-world impulses ("I'm really scared for the Great Barrier Reef," she says. "It's, like, dying. This whole planet is. Poor Earth, man"), and sees fame as a means to draw attention to favored causes. "I was born with this platform," she says. "Am I gonna waste it and hide away? Or am I going to make it bigger and use it for more important things?"

Her dad wouldn't have minded. "If you wanna be bigger than me, you can," he'd tell her. "If you don't want to be at all, you can. But I just want you to be happy."

At the moment, Paris lives in the private studio where her dad demoed "Beat It." The Tudor-style main house in the now-empty Jackson family compound in the LA neighborhood of Encino – purchased by Joe Jackson in 1971 with some of the Jackson 5's first Motown royalties, and rebuilt by Michael in the Eighties – is under renovation. But the studio, built by Michael in a brick building across the courtyard, happens to be roughly the size of a decent Manhattan apartment, with its own kitchen and bathroom. Paris has turned it into a vibe-y, cozy dorm room.

Traces of her father are everywhere, most unmistakably in the artwork he commissioned. Outside the studio is a framed picture, done in a Disney-like style, of a cartoon castle on a hilltop with a caricatured Michael in the foreground, a small blond boy embracing him.It's captioned "Of Children, Castles & Kings." Inside is a mural taking up an entire wall, with another cartoon Michael in the corner, holding a green book titled The Secret of Life and looking down from a window at blooming flowers – at the center of each bloom is a cartoon face of a red-cheeked little girl.

Paris' chosen decor is somewhat different. There is a picture of Kurt Cobain in the bathroom, a Smashing Pumpkins poster on the wall, a laptop with Against Me! and NeverEnding Story stickers, psychedelic paisley wall hangings, lots of fake candles. Vinyl records (Alice Cooper, the Rolling Stones) serve as wall decorations. In the kitchen, sitting casually on a counter, is a framed platinum record, inscribed to Michael by Quincy Jones ("I found it in the attic," Paris shrugs).

Above an adjacent garage is a mini-museum Michael created as a surprise gift for his family, with the walls and even ceilings covered with photos from their history. Michael used to rehearse dance moves in that room; now Paris' boyfriend has his drum kit set up there.

We head out to a nearby sushi restaurant, and Paris starts to describe life in Neverland. She spent her first seven years in her dad's 2,700-acre fantasy world, with its own amusement park, zoo and movie theater. ("Everything I never got to do as a kid," Michael called it.) During that time, she didn't know that her father's name was Michael, let alone have any grasp of his fame. "I just thought his name was Dad, Daddy," she says. "We didn't really know who he was. But he was our world. And we were his world." (Paris declared last year's Captain Fantastic , where Viggo Mortensen plays an eccentric dad who tries to create a utopian hideaway for his kids, her "favorite movie ever.")

"We couldn't just go on the rides whenever we wanted to," she recalls, walking on a dark roadside near the Encino compound. She likes to stride along the lane divider, too close to the cars – it drives her boyfriend crazy, and I don't much like it either. "We actually had a pretty normal life. Like, we had school every single day, and we had to be good. And if we were good, every other weekend or so, we could choose whether we were gonna go to the movie theater or see the animals or whatever. But if you were on bad behavior, then you wouldn't get to go do all those things." 

In his 2011 memoir, Michael's brother Jermaine called him "an example of what fatherhood should be. He instilled in them the love Mother gave us, and he provided the kind of emotional fathering that our father, through no fault of his own, could not. Michael was father and mother rolled into one."

Michael gave the kids the option of going to regular school. They declined. "When you're at home," says Paris, "your dad, who you love more than anything, will occasionally come in, in the middle of class, and it's like, 'Cool, no more class for the day. We're gonna go hang out with Dad.' We were like, 'We don't need friends. We've got you and Disney Channel!'" She was, she acknowledges, "a really weird kid."

Her dad taught her how to cook, soul food, mostly. "He was a kick-ass cook," she says. "His fried chicken is the best in the world. He taught me how to make sweet potato pie." Paris is baking four pies, plus gumbo, for grandma Katherine's Thanksgiving – which actually takes place the day before the holiday, in deference to Katherine's Jehovah's Witness beliefs.

Michael schooled Paris on every conceivable genre of music. "My dad worked with Van Halen, so I got into Van Halen," she says."He worked with Slash, so I got into Guns N' Roses. He introduced me to Tchaikovsky and Debussy, Earth, Wind and Fire, the Temptations, Tupac, Run-DMC."

She says Michael emphasized tolerance. "My dad raised me in a very open-minded house," she says. "I was eight years old, in love with this female on the cover of a magazine. Instead of yelling at me, like most homophobic parents, he was making fun of me, like, 'Oh, you got yourself a girlfriend.'

"His number-one focus for us," says Paris, "besides loving us, was education. And he wasn't like, 'Oh, yeah, mighty Columbus came to this land!' He was like, 'No. He fucking slaughtered the natives.'" Would he really phrase it that way? "He did have kind of a potty mouth. He cussed like a sailor." But he was also "very shy."

Paris and Prince are quite aware of public doubts about their parentage (the youngest brother, Blanket, with his darker skin, is the subject of less speculation). Paris' mom is Debbie Rowe, a nurse Michael met while she was working for his dermatologist, the late Arnold Klein. They had what sounds like an unconventional three-year marriage, during which, Rowe once testified, they never shared a home. Michael said that Rowe wanted to have his children "as a present" to him. (Rowe said that Paris got her name from the location of her conception.) Klein, her employer, was one of several men – including the actor Mark Lester, who played the title role in the 1968 movie Oliver! – who suggested that they could be Paris' actual biological father.

Over popcorn shrimp and a Clean Mean Salmon Roll, Paris agrees to address this issue for what she says will be the only time. She could opt for an easy, logical answer, could point out that it doesn't matter, that either way, Michael Jackson was her father. That's what her brother – who describes himself as "more objective" than Paris – seems to suggest. "Every time someone asks me that," Prince says, "I ask, 'What's the point? What difference does it make?' Specifically to someone who's not involved in my life. How does that affect your life? It doesn't change mine."

But Paris is certain that Michael Jackson was her biological dad. She believes it with a fervency that is both touching and, in the moment, utterly convincing. "He is my father," she says, making fierce eye contact. "He will always be my father. He never wasn't, and he never will not be. People that knew him really well say they see him in me, that it's almost scary.

"I consider myself black," she says, adding later that her dad "would look me in the eyes and he'd point his finger at me and he'd be like, 'You're black. Be proud of your roots.' And I'd be like, 'OK, he's my dad, why would he lie to me?' So I just believe what he told me. 'Cause, to my knowledge, he's never lied to me.

"Most people that don't know me call me white," Paris concedes. "I've got light skin and, especially since I've had my hair blond, I look like I was born in Finland or something." She points out that it's far from unheard of for mixed-race kids to look like her – accurately noting that her complexion and eye color are similar to the TV actor Wentworth Miller's, who has a black dad and a white mom.

At first, she had no relationship with Rowe. "When I was really, really young, my mom didn't exist," Paris recalls. Eventually, she realized "a man can't birth a child" – and when she was 10 or so, she asked Prince, "We gotta have a mom, right?" So she asked her dad. "And he's like, 'Yeah.' And I was like, 'What's her name?' And he's just like, 'Debbie.' And I was like, 'OK, well, I know the name.'" After her father's death, she started researching her mom online, and they got together when Paris was 13.

In the wake of her treatment in Utah, Paris decided to reach out again to Rowe. "She needed a mother figure," says Prince, who declines to comment on his own relationship, or lack thereof, with Rowe. (Paris' manager declined to make Rowe available for an interview, and Rowe did not respond to our request for comment.) "I've had a lot of mother figures," Paris counters, citing her grandmother and nannies, among others, "but by the time my mom came into my life, it wasn't a 'mommy' thing. It's more of an adult relationship." Paris sees herself in Rowe, who just completed a course of chemo in a fight against breast cancer: "We're both very stubborn."

Paris isn't sure how Michael felt about Rowe, but says Rowe was "in love" with her dad. She's also sure that Michael loved Lisa Marie Presley, whom he divorced two years before Paris' birth: "In the music video 'You Are Not Alone,' I can see how he looked at her, and he was totally whipped," she says with a fond laugh.

Paris Jackson was around nine years old when she realized that much of the world didn't see her father the way she did. "My dad would cry to me at night," she says, sitting at the counter of a New York coffee shop in mid-December, cradling a tiny spoon in her hand. She starts to cry too. "Picture your parent crying to you about the world hating him for something he didn't do. And for me, he was the only thing that mattered. To see my entire world in pain, I started to hate the world because of what they were doing to him. I'm like, 'How can people be so mean?'" She pauses. "Sorry, I'm getting emotional."

Paris and Prince have no doubts that their father was innocent of the multiple child-molestation allegations against him, that the man they knew was the real Michael. Again, they are persuasive – if they could go door-to-door talking about it, they could sway the world."Nobody but my brothers and I experienced him reading A Light in the Attic to us at night before we went to bed," says Paris."Nobody experienced him being a father to them. And if they did, the entire perception of him would be completely and forever changed." I gently suggest that what Michael said to her on those nights was a lot to put on a nine-year-old. "He did not bullshit us," she replies. "You try to give kids the best childhood possible. But you also have to prepare them for the shitty world."

Michael's 2005 molestation trial ended in an acquittal, but it shattered his reputation and altered the course of his family's lives. He decided to leave Neverland for good. They spent the next four years traveling the world, spending long stretches of time in the Irish countryside, in Bahrain, in Las Vegas. Paris didn't mind – it was exciting, and home was where her dad was.

By 2009, Michael was preparing for an ambitious slate of comeback performances at London's O2 Arena. "He kind of hyped it up to us," recalls Paris. "He was like, 'Yeah, we're gonna live in London for a year.' We were super-excited – we already had a house out there we were gonna live in." But Paris remembers his "exhaustion" as rehearsals began. "I'd tell him, 'Let's take a nap,'" she says."Because he looked tired. We'd be in school, meaning downstairs in the living room, and we'd see dust falling from the ceiling and hear stomping sounds because he was rehearsing upstairs."

Paris has a lingering distaste for AEG Live, the promoters behind the planned This Is It tour – her family lost a wrongful-death suit against them, with the jury accepting AEG's argument that Michael was responsible for his own death. "AEG Live does not treat their performers right," she alleges. "They drain them dry and work them to death." (A rep for AEG declined comment.) She describes seeing Justin Bieber on a recent tour and being "scared" for him. "He was tired, going through the motions. I looked at my ticket, saw AEG Live, and I thought back to how my dad was exhausted all the time but couldn't sleep."

Paris blames Dr. Conrad Murray – who was convicted of involuntary manslaughter in her father's death – for the dependency on the anesthetic drug propofol that led to it. She calls him "the 'doctor,'" with satirical air quotes. But she has darker suspicions about her father's death. "He would drop hints about people being out to get him," she says. "And at some point he was like, 'They're gonna kill me one day.'" (Lisa Marie Presley told Oprah Winfrey of a similar conversation with Michael, who expressed fears that unnamed parties were targeting him to get at his half of the Sony/ATV music-publishing catalog, worth hundreds of millions.)

Paris is convinced that her dad was, somehow, murdered. "Absolutely," she says. "Because it's obvious. All arrows point to that. It sounds like a total conspiracy theory and it sounds like bullshit, but all real fans and everybody in the family knows it. It was a setup. It was bullshit."

But who would have wanted Michael Jackson dead? Paris pauses for several seconds, maybe considering a specific answer, but just says, "A lot of people." Paris wants revenge, or at least justice. "Of course," she says, eyes glowing. "I definitely do, but it's a chess game. And I am trying to play the chess game the right way. And that's all I can say about that right now."

Michael had his kids wear masks in public, a protective move Paris considered "stupid" but later came to understand. So it made all the more of an impression when a brave little girl spontaneously stepped to the microphone at her dad's televised memorial service, on July 7th, 2009. "Ever since I was born," she said, "Daddy has been the best father you could ever imagine, and I just wanted to say I love him so much."

She was 11 years old, but she knew what she was doing. "I knew afterward there was gonna be plenty of shit-talking," Paris says, "plenty of people questioning him and how he raised us. That was the first time I ever publicly defended him, and it definitely won't be the last." For Prince, his younger sister showed in that moment that she had "more strength than any of us."

The day after her trip to the Museum of Death, Paris, Michael Snoddy and Tom Hamilton, her model-handsome, man-bunned 31-year-old manager, head over to Venice Beach. We stroll the boardwalk, and Snoddy recalls a brief stint as a street performer here when he first moved to LA, drumming on buckets. "It wasn't bad," he says. "I averaged out to a hundred bucks a day."

Paris has her hair extensions in a ponytail. She's wearing sunglasses with circular lenses, a green plaid shirt over leggings, and a Rasta-rainbow backpack. Her mood is darker today. She's not talking much, and clinging tight to Snoddy, who's in a Willie Nelson tee with the sleeves cut off.

We head toward the canals, lined with ultramodern houses that Paris doesn't like. "They're too harsh and bougie," she says. "It doesn't scream, 'Hey, come for dinner!'" She's delighted to spot a group of ducks. "Hello, friends!" she shouts. "Come play with us!"Among them are what appear to be an avian couple in love, paddling through the shallow water in close formation. Paris sighs and squeezes Snoddy's hand. "Goals," she says. "Hashtag 'goals.'"

Her spirits are lifting, and we walk back toward the beach to watch the sunset. Paris and Snoddy hop on a concrete barrier facing the orange-pink spectacle. It's a peaceful moment, until a middle-aged woman in neon jogging clothes and knee-length socks walks over.She grins at the couple as she presses a button on some kind of tiny stereo strapped to her waist, unleashing a dated-sounding trance song. Paris laughs and turns to her boyfriend. As the sun disappears, they start to dance.

From being a kick-ass cook to a strict dad, here are the 5 things we learned about the King of Pop from Paris Jackson.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B0kjc3VEwFM