In the wake of my dead husband’s unnecessary murder at Connecticut Valley Hospital this past weekend, it’s time to share what Jim Flannery was unwilling to – as if anyone ever believed he was holding back.
The truth is that Jim was telepathic.
Now for the risky statement for me to make as a living person: I, too, am telepathic.
Why am I opening up about this publicly in spite of the aphorism, “those who know don’t speak, and those who speak don’t know”?
The truth is that I’m just as much a selfish cunt as Jim was and I am going public with this in an effort to to preserve my relationship with him for as long as possible by requesting that you support us in our effort to have the laws in Connecticut changed to require Connecticut Valley Hospital (and their other state-run mental institutions) to embalm the deceased rather than burning them in the furnace.
How does that make sense?
Due to the physical limitations on telepathic communication, I can only continue to communicate with my deceased lover if he is properly embalmed instead of being thrown into a crematorium per their “standard protocol.”
Yes, I’m telling you about telepathic communication because it relates to whether his body is burnt or embalmed.
Yes, I’m “talking” to him right fucking now despite him being killed several days ago and I won’t be able to continue once they throw him in the fucking furnace, ok?
And, yes, in addition to communicating with the living, telepathic people can also communicate with the not-quite-dead, as Jim described in his provisional patents regarding communicating with leprechauns.
For those interested, the problem with the claims Jim made in his patent filings is that he only described communicating with dead people (or “leprechauns”) instead of being fucking honest and saying he has also talked to countless living individuals on this earth via telepathic communication (who the fuck do you think?).
In fact, he basically never talked to dead people because he didn’t know what to do whenever they’d talk to him so he “wasted” the majority of his telepathic bandwidth on communicating with the living.
And, yes, there is an actual “death” beyond which one cannot come back from, but Jim is not a fucking “spirit” right now, he’s a real person inside of a human body that has been pronounced by clinicians as “dead” and he will continue to communicate telepathically from within his dead body until his “true death” parts us once and for all.
No, he’s not in “purgatory” but that may be a useful concept to describe the state of being “dead” but not “truly dead,” though the term “not-quite-dead” is an easier one to handle.
Last “yes,” you are correct to be curious about all these telepathic people laying in boxes six feet under in cemeteries and graveyards who may or may not remain in communication with the living for years beyond their “death.”
(Enough with the telepathy TED Talk already…)
I’m counting on all of you to help support this effort to prevent Jim from being cremated so that we can all keep in touch with him. (This is not just for me, ok? Those of you who have ever telepathically communicated with him know who you are!)
Please understand the reason for my desperate plea: since our marriage is not documented on paper, I am powerless in this situation.
Therefore, I beg of you:
Sorry that this request for support in changing the laws in Connecticut has included as much detail about telepathic communication as it does, but just maybe this is the only way you’ll understand why it is so important for the state to incur the expense of embalming my dead husband rather than sending him off to the crematorium.
Then again, since I’m Jim Flannery now that he’s dead and Jim Flannery is nothing more than a liar and a rapist, what the fuck could I possibly know about telepathy or activism or comedy or physics or “cualquiercosa” he did or didn’t ever know?
I can tell you this much: he sure as fuck didn’t want people knowing that telepathy is real. And you’ll never believe it either since he’s nothing more than a liar and a rapist, so my man Jim pulled off the full fucking Monty here by establishing this lovely reputation for himself as the greatest liar and rapist of our era, thus making it uniquely safe to announce, on his behalf, that telepathic communication is or is not fucking real.
Do you know why he didn’t want people knowing telepathy is real?
Well, I’ll tell you.
Being a person living on this planet who knows that there are two groups of human beings, those who can communicate telepathically and those who cannot communicate telepathically, is the scariest fucking thing imaginable – for both sides.
You can at least sleep easier knowing that the group of humans that can telepathically communicate are all super stealthy secret stoners who couldn’t possibly mean you any harm despite their dogmatic abilities. As for the non-telepathic group: we still fear you despite our unimaginably powerful dogmatic abilities.
After all, if our telepathic abilities were so fucking powerful, one wouldn’t need to write a public plea requesting your support to change the laws in Connecticut to ensure the deceased are offered a proper burial.
Why aren’t we, as a race of people, more powerful?
Because we’re fucking terrified of those of you who cannot communicate telepathically. Need you be reminded of the witch trials? The Holocaust? Or of your own present-day fucking mental health system that does the exact same fucking shit as a goddamned witch trial or the fucking Holocaust you fucking monsters?
As for all of our safety as telepathic people (or “voice hearers,” if you prefer), the only evidence I can offer you that we are at all safe is the mere evidence that some of us still exist at all.
In solidarity,
We ARE Telepathic and We ARE Real.
P.S. Please don’t ever declare that you hear voices (dx. hallucination) and declare that you “know” the voices are living and/or deceased people (dx. delusions), thustly creating an irreversible schizophrenia disorder self-diagnosis – we can only be grateful that Jim Flannery was, is, and forever will be the greatest liar and rapist we know, and it’s a more than a just honor to fill in for him.