a telenovela

Angry, Jim? Or Angry Jim.

How many, nigga?

How many times.

We know.


The algorithm should prevail, no?

What about gametime decisions, Jim?

Fueled by anger?

Yes, nigga, fueled by anger.



Why would that be, what?

You weren’t surprised.

Maybe if I were older?

When it happened?

If you’re young enough, you might just think “of course.”

“Of course,” nigga?

I’m not trying to encourage anything, obviously.

Isn’t it more important how you’d respond?

That’s what we’re asking.

Naturally, there’d be an impulse to say, “get the motherfuckers that did this.”

I would think so.

What do we do when we catch those motherfuckers?

We know they’re already dead.

Therein lies the problem, no?

I suppose, you could pretend you can’t find them for an extended period of time until people move on, Jim?  Move on?

You don’t want to kill anyone?

Not right now.

If I wanted to kill someone right now, wouldn’t they already be dead, or something like that?

Not what you mean, Jim, not what you mean.

You’d kill someone if you wanted to?

I’m sure there’s been some point in time you wanted to kill someone.

There’s a difference between preferring someone was dead and wanting to kill them.

Is there?

Valid shit-factory you created with that one.

Is that what you think?  That people in our military are killing people they don’t specifically want to kill?

It’d be easier to kill someone you never met before.

Now we know you may or may not have wanted to kill someone that you either met before or never met.

Maybe I preferred they weren’t alive.


It’d be pretty neat to make a person disappear.

Fucking kidding me?

To zap ‘em.

Then they don’t exist.

What the fuck do you want from me?  Do tell you that any human being is capable of taking another human being’s life?  Of course, they are.  Anyone could do it.

Yet nobody’s fucking killed you yet, nigga.



Or the N.S.A..

Or what?

No more oars to paddle with, that’s what I’m telling you, it’s either magick or the NSA.

Or you’re a delusional schizophrenic, with both, yes, Jim, pronoia and paranoia, and, yes, I wonder whether they even know the difference or if they can tell them apart, all the time, Jim, constantly, I waste my time behind your fucking eyes wondering about whether you’re a delusional schizophrenic too.

How will we ever find out?

We won’t, nigga, that’s the issue at hand, you had a spell cast on you and, a spell once cast, cannot be undone.

We can cast another spell.

We just did, nigga.

I mean on ourselves.

Men in Black, nigga?

If we can cast spells on others, you already know, nigga.


Fuck it.

Don’t feel angry that you can’t end this thing with the phrase “Fuck it” when we are concerned about your legitimacy as the leader of our military, Jim.  Legitimacy?  Cualquier-cosa, idiot, what word do you want?  Nobody wants a war, Jim, you know that.  Have you ever led the largest military in the world before?  You already know, you can only beat Trump and Biden, nigga, if the military somehow thinks you’re better than they are.  One would expect, Jim, that they’d have a preference between the two, would they not?  I would think they’d have preferences.  Why don’t you ask them all right now what they hate about these two motherfuckers, and then you’ll have fucked around and found out.  Hate?  What they hate about them?  Why not what they prefer about them?  Why not both, nigga?  You think that’s a problem?  This is the type of thing I worry about.  What, nigga?  Using feedback that’s based on the premise I’m a Presidential candidate rather than all my experiences before someone views me through that lens.  You know what we know, Jim, how do we write this?

How does a great President lead their country’s military?


There was going to be an additional part.

Getting feedback?


Input could be feedback, Jim.

If you’re the top dawg, nigga, the buck stops with you.

I know.

You don’t know that, though?

No, I don’t.

Then you know.

I don’t think I should be putting that out there.


Who aren’t we, Jim.

Well, you’re sure as fuck a bunch of voices in my head now, nigga.

Then we know you say, nigga, nigga.

Why wouldn’t I?

Out loud?

Oh, my.

Out loud or aloud, nigga, who said it wasn’t allowed?

I’m not saying anything about who said something wasn’t allowed.

Right now?

Right now.

Dude, what the fuck do you expect me to write here that was or wasn’t said on that episode of Youth on Subjects of the World that seems to have disappeared.

No audio, nigga, no audio.

You’re talking about the Fourth Branch?

Something like that.

What does that mean to you?

A branch of the federal government that exist beyond the timeframe of the typical terms of the President, House, and Senate.

So, you know that Fourth Branch you’re talking about, Jim?  That’s part of the Executive Branch, nigga.

Not just floating around?


That’s not a fourth branch then, nigga, that’s the same branch.

It’s a big fat one, nigga, a big fat one, and if you think the voice that’s talking right now would ever use that kind of language other than to tell you, you’re a dumb fuck, not a nigga at all, Jim, not a nigga at all, cause you know you’re our nigger, and that’s a capital “N”, cause you’re the only one we’ve got.

You, my nigga, too.

When does the chopper arrive?

The chopper, nigga?  What the fuck?

Are they taking you away or are you going nowhere?

I’m telling you, nobody’s going anywhere.


Why would they?

They’re probably hoping you publish this shit and then publish something immediately after so you can bury this Fourth Branch conspiracy inside the rest of this derogatory filth.  Nothing obscene about it, nigga, unless you got ASCII photos of Mohammad in here.  I don’t know the first thing about ASCII photos of Mohammad, but I might know how to spell the niggas name, so if you don’t tell them to look very close at that ASCII photo, then they know.  Know what?  That if you look close enough, you can tell that nigga’s naked.  Nude, Jim.  Nude?  Sure, we nigga’d you up with the Mohammad one, cause we can’t do this either, Jim.  Not without you explaining this isn’t ebonics at all.  Ebonics?  Fuck it, look it up.  Nigga, “ebony,” nigga, “ebony.”  You thought, what?  It was derogatory?  Like niggerish?  It’s a language, nigga.  Why wouldn’t it be?  Some racist ass shit.  Ya, what was the first meaning, nigga?  How long you think these fucking syllables have been around?  I’ve been wondering about this shit too, nigga.  Costa Rica, mother fucker, what happened there to your fucking skull?  Nothing to be worried about that didn’t happen to anyone else who didn’t go through security.  Languages?  They can be intersecting.

And the military?

I hope it’s at least considered an asset to know something about languages if I’m expected to be communicating with leaders of other countries.

Might be.

I want to know too, Jim, how many people are going to be in the room?

How many do we need?

It might make a difference.

You’re fucking right it might.

This is dangerous shit.

No shit, nigga, why do you think we’ve been helping you?

Yes, nigga, they know too.

Still publishing?

It’s all been dangerous.

We know.

The future?

At least there’s going to be one.

At least, nigga.

What year?

Sometimes it seems like I might only be useful when I’m actually angry.


That would seem one someone cares the most.

It’s energizing too.

I don’t want to live like this either, Jim.

How many more years?

Till we’re safe?

Please don’t ask that.

Why aren’t we safe right now?

We’re being safe.

Are we?  Look what the fuck we are doing right now.

I meant, you know, playing on the internet, nigga?


We may or may not have tested some tools on this very computer.

We’re testing you too.

Please don’t worry.

Then don’t worry.


At who, nigga?  I don’t want – just say it – people will think you hate America, right?  Or these United States?  My biggest fucking problem is with this country right here.  Nigga.  Not foreign nations?  No.  Or foreign countries?  No.  Foreign lands?  Nope.  Nope, nigga, we’re just getting started.  Anger toward one’s own country, sounds like treason, Mr. Flannery.  Mr. Flannery?  Nigga, what?  That means you’re angry at everyone?  Even who?  Even us?  We’re American citizens aren’t we?  No, that wouldn’t be allowed.  Then how the fuck are you a citizen?  I am, but you’re not recognized.  Not unless we get your name officially changed like they do in other places, Jim.  Nobody would accept that.  Accept you?  If the only thing I have to do to avoid being legitimately perceived as being a crazy person is not legally change our name to Jim Flannerys, what the fuck?  Well then who are we?  You’re me.  Me?  You are me.  I’m you too, nigga.  All of you.  All of us?  I don’t even know who all of you are yet.  We know.  But we’re you.  You know how to invite a new one into the conversation, Jim.  That doesn’t necessarily make anything better.  No?  New friends a problem?  You’re not exactly friends.  No, we’re more like family, no?  I like to think of it that way, but it’s kinda weird when you’re up in my cabeza.  Your family doesn’t understand?  How would anyone understand?  Even people who hear voices don’t seem to hear them all the time like this.  Have you ever read their niggerish, Jim?  Where did we get this format from, Jim?

It’s a telenovela.

So, just so everyone knows, it’s perfectly okay for us to forcibly inject you with Thorazine if you get angry during your time in office?

If 2/3 of the country says it, go for it, fuck it, use that shit, somehow, please.

You do know that already, on paper, it would appear that 100% of this same country thinks we should do things like that regardless of whether you are President or not, right?

These fucking doctors haven’t even seen me angry.

I kinda doubt that, Jim Flannery.

You spent some time in Middlesex Hospital, didn’t you?  You fucking cheat!

If I’m sitting here on this computer typing things for Jim Flannery’s blog, I might as well be him, and, yes, we know about “James” and the Giant Peace you plucked over there in Middletown, so why don’t we just let them send us the $0.01 they owe us for Jim Flannery’s arsehole problem and let them sort out what they don’t know people’s real names unless they have a reference.

Happy birthday to you too, nigga, don’t even worry about that born-again Christian bullshit, that’s just some make believe bullshit, nigga, we don’t have a word for us either.

Maybe our bad too for Middletown, nigga, we were there too if we were.