lavelled

[lavelled]

The Prince of Ladders, the Duke of Sussex, born holding a butcher knife, seems most upset over the technical tools being used. While I was beaten down by your misleading ancient history and the shifting of blame, yet you showed sprightliness with your wife, rented from a pleasure box, in a reciprocal personal life of enrichment producing two little kiddos, I was documenting the Twitter journey.

I’m that melodramatic.

Algorithms, by definition, are calculations based what you’ve already viewed, clicked or ordered as a consumer and nothing else. Or, a lovely woman gives birth to her husband’s mold, a seedy criminal, the evil remains of a virus, the dirty end of a rope, the skeleton after a shark attack and that boy grew up to be chained to a computer of his own volition, pretending to hack Spotify and Zoom from his workhouse side of the dark web.

Prince Harry is why you sometimes experience the frustrating slowness of a website.

Tom Cruise didn’t make Prince Harry Mountbatten-Windsor become a vindictive tech entrepreneur. Tom Cruise didn’t make Prince Harry Mountbatten-Windsor marry actress Sparkles at age 33.

Imagine that the stranger in question as to why you’re keeping all these balls in the air isn’t because of Tom Cruise but because of your own craggy, creepy father. Everybody knows the true story told chronologically. For him to be so much older than me, so many dimensions of life away from me, makes the Windsor male trio, from lip to lap, rotten liars with math problems.

Prince Harry has been looked upon—and awarded amidst shouts of hurrahs and applause—as a leader, a humanitarian, an instructive CEO orator, a normal human. His intellectual gladiatorship in response to my last posting on Ukraine, as an example, was to not only hack two websites for the sole purpose of a work-stopping outage to prove his Daddy is a pedophile, but his instinct was to type on Reddit things like: Have you ever done anal nitrate? I annexed my wife's armpit to secure free passage to her boobies. Balls in my mouth, deepthroat circus. Who here wants my salty nuts? Apricots. What does AIDS smell like? Do Gay French Men bake their baguettes together? Overall, which race produced the best slave? Who the fuck eats mint jelly?

That’s him.

How’s life for the prized Prince in England and meh Megs all the way over on the West Coast though not in Montecito? How’s life as soldier, chef, pastry shop owner, cupid, dad, dogged, taxidermied, meat inspector, babysat, hustling gynecologist who’s never been photographed California poolside? From your antique roll-top desk, you write first sketchy grade school revisions and your breadcrumb cum-work, yet you’ve erased an entire identity and don’t even feel guilty about it. Your father happily passed the baton to you, the dumb-dumb ne'er-do-well low-ranked cyborg seat belted to his laptop, tap-tap-tapping away, not realizing, of course, that he inherited a wedge between the one person who would be his downfall.

That’s what you inherited. A distant wedge. The enabled placated trust-fund boy-­prince just had to realize that other people experience heartache and unfortunate death in their family, too. And that people seemed to be dying prematurely all over the world. Or, to calculate it, that writer girl can’t get those years back.

I’m guessing he did realize all of it and said, Nah, fuck that.

There are quiet moments of messaging on full display for Tom within cinema. Red-green neon flashing adrenaline-laced do-something crosswalk lights. At the center of it all, there are heroes, villains, styles, attitudes, atmosphere, landscape, even casting and location choices that serve as three-act grand gestures for Tom. By design, a few of the green-bean movies: The Tree of Life, The Sea of Trees, The Emerald Forest, which is a 1985 British adventure film, and Gorillas in the Mist, a 1988 film with a Mum main character that proves I was a choiceless baby by the mere fact that goddess and actress Sigourney Weaver is 75-years-old. There are green creatures in movies such as Shrek and The Incredible Hulk. The Pixar film, Brave, set in the Scottish Highlands, tells the story of a young red-headed tomboy and archer named Princess Merida who runs free among moss-covered nature, she defies an age-old royal custom and rejects all three candidates of an arranged marriage and turns her overbearing Mum into, well, a bear. In the movie, House of Flying Daggers, the color green is the dominant hue on the cinematic palette while both bamboo and the bamboo forest are used for swordplay fighting. One of its stars was in the 1994 policeman film, Chungking Express. The Netflix documentary, Harry & Snowman, is about riding instructor Harry deLeyer and the horse he rescued from slaughter with $80, going on to win the triple crown of show jumping in the late 1950s.

How about the chop shop of all 10 SAW movies? After all, they were created by the Australian filmmakers James Wan and Leigh Whannell, and the first one starred British actor Cary Elwes from The Princess Bride.

The movie, Aquaman, which sounds like aquamarine, stars Jason Momoa and rising star, Nicole Kidman.

Indiana Jones’ Harrison Ford in the movie, Regarding Henry. ET actor Henry Thomas in the movie, The Haunting of Hill House. Superman’s Henry Cavill in the movies, The Cold Light of Day and The Man from U.N.C.L.E. How about singer-actor, Harry Connick Jr. in the movie, Life Without Dick.

Then watch the British actor, Tom Hardy, act in literally anything and notice how his movies are gleaming one-word titles and the results are: Deserter, Bronson, Legend, Lawless, Locke, RocknRolla, Minotaur, Inception, Capone, Dunkirk, Venom, Havoc, and, nonironically, his first movie credit was for Black Hawk Down.

Also nonironic was actress Charlize Theron in the crime-drama movie, Monster, which was released on December 17, 2003.

The businesses of Sweetgreen, Mint Mobile, Lime e-bike, Uber, Uber Eats; the Starbucks logo is a green mermaid or siren that resembles the Sicilian flag; the satirical site, The Onion, looks like a green scallion; the Amazon Fresh logo is green; the Amazon Ring Camera video audio voice recording doorbell is green. The Nutrisystem logo is a green leaf and was founded by Harold Katz when I was an embryo. The streaming media service, Hulu, founded by Jason Kilar, has a green logo and was launched on October 29, 2007. The word hulu in Mandarin Chinese means gourd.

Larry the Cat is the much-loved and long admired Chief feline who has worked and lived in his Cabinet position at 10 Downing Street in London, England since 2011. As first feline and media savant, he’s living with his sixth Prime Minister. Sir Keir Starmer, the current Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, moved in with a family cat named JoJo and then adopted a Siberian kitten, a tiny ball of white fluff, and named him Prince. Huh. Larry. Jojo. Prince. I believe that’s a green go-ahead of prime ministership from a political nobody right up the street from Prince Harry.

Then, there is one of the greatest singers and performers in the world who taught a daughtered generation about feminism, sexuality, identity, and individualism. When she founded her record company in April 1992, she named it Maverick Records. There’s also Maverick Films which produced the Twilight films. Madonna Louise Ciccone could have named her company anything she wanted. Something Italian. Sicilian. Studio 54-ish. Basquiat art. Instead, it shares the name with a famous 1980s Tom Cruise character. That made films with the word lie in the title about high school vampires. Madonna, like Michael Jackson, has been artistically outing the Windsor family for decades. I’d love to tell my sisters that The Madonna sings a 2015 song called Joan of Arc for a reason, but they wouldn’t believe me.

Same goes for a lot of songs.

I was sorry to hear of the passing of actor, Nicky Katt. His birth name was Agustin Islas. He was a talented actor who had been in the business as a kid, playing the character of Scott Spencer in the 1980s tv show, Trapper John, M.D., working steadily to gather an impressive filmography that included the movies Dazed and Confused, Boiler Room, and A Time to Kill among others and was in the television series, Boston Public, where he played the character Harry Senate in 49 episodes. On April 8, 2025, he died by suicide by hanging. He was 54-years-old.

Lisa Lynn Masters was an actress, model, writer and news reporter. She attended the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism and continued to balance both reporter and acting careers. She guest-starred on the shows, Law & Order: Criminal Intent, Law & Order: SVU, Ugly Betty, Gossip Girl and Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. She was on assignment in Lima, Peru when she committed suicide. She was found in her hotel room, in the closet, where she hanged herself with her skirt. She was 52-years-old.

Dave Mirra was the most decorated BMX star in X Games history, turning pro at 17. He joined the Haro Bikes BMX team in 1987. He set the record for most medals, 24 medals, in BMX Freestyle at the X Games and earned at least one BMX medal at the event in all but one year from the start of the competition in 1995 until 2009. In 2000, he became the first BMX rider to land a double backflip in competition, and was soon featured in ads for Burger King and was sponsored by Slim Jim. He was the host for two seasons of MTV's Real World/Road Rules Challenge. He was the first action sports athlete to be diagnosed with CTE, a brain disease linked to head trauma. He surprised friends by telling them he was planning a comeback to the sport, at middle-age, building a new ramp for training. But on February 4, 2016, in Greenville, North Carolina, he climbed into his black Ford F-150 Raptor and shot himself in the head. He was 41.

These suicides were brought to you by not doing something. The cubhood code from the deepest circle of hell that advertises life-stopping pedophilia, hanging on these words, the shooting script, carved, recarved, flipped, flipped again, wash, rinse, wrap, and repeat, all the angles and lies and computations of a netting that was agreed upon four decades ago without my knowledge or consent and if people could say it, they’d say that this should’ve stopped after Columbine, September 11th, Sandy Hook, Parkland and now Florida State University and it should end soon as everyone from the pulpit to presidents to prime ministers to generals to Kings to Princess Kate Middleton’s siblings and their spouses all give Tom Cruise the green light.

Prince Harry is going to keep talking about his parents as the pivotal inspiration. This was put into place before a car chase. I’ve said no, hell no, nope, no idea why this is still going on. This is blog number 50 and the worst slow motion ending. Since when does a Baker Sexter Soldier Liar who writes about attics and pea soup and mouths and cocks on the internet ingratiate himself into anything, anything worthwhile, anything feminine, let alone determine when an educated middle-aged woman should get love, a relationship, kids, a career and happiness?

K

Her Deleted Instagram.

Her new Instagram, her As Ever website, her As Ever jam products, her Confessions podcast are operated by Prince Harry. Duchess Sparkles cannot read the news, internet, or send work email. She cannot speak freely per royal contracts. Her so-called feminist projects are commodities to help push her husband’s freshman life theft and inequality.

Shampoo bottle. Shake well. Then, conveniently forget that she’s right here, a real human, in the middle of all this with nothing...

Remember how I mentioned that the beekeeping from Harry’s As Ever cooking show is blueprint Windsor code for calm, cum, no cum, honeypot, honeydew-talk? She knew who did this. She knows cusp.

Sweet couple...

I usually choose photos with her as the primary hypocrite subject matter because I don’t think her Suits co-stars anticipated blogging or her marrying the enemy. Even though there’s a friend here, there’s no name attached. This is a reference, like the Katie Holmes’ dessert plate, to pen-pal Maverick himself and a dig at CHARLES.

Her future father-in-law, as evermore...

This is Prince Harry, the royal bigwig, acting like a pauper with a sketchbook.

Did you dip your quill into toilet water before drawing in a sickly basic instinct? I’m no fan or friend of the made-up fictionalized Duchess but this is rude, dumb and an outright insult to a beloved princess’ memory…

They were only dating. But everyone knew it was fake and cruel.

Getty does it artfully… 

Everything about the actress is used for vengeance against Tom Cruise, even her jewelry.

Three months before the royal wedding…

I honestly thought you had altered this Getty Image for Twitter, but, no, there’s a familiar brunette, with your dots, imprinted by her second white husband…

This is an ordinary cafe chalkboard menu welcoming the Duke & Duch—waitttt a minute.

If you look to the left-hand side, you’ll see British hieroglyphics spelling out something to the tune of: you’re not her, a pregnant belly, a green baby, hoe (both), you’re going down (Harry), on the 23rd, seven dots…

This smoker is unimpressed with their small talk baby news and I love it.

You’ll see flags, 12 tassels, a horse in the sport of dressage, and what looks to me like the pub rendering of a vaginal coupledom…

In 2013, on the steps of the hospital where William and Harry were born, a tote bag, a cane and a gent named Terry…

If you were detached from society, and you were conversing with the prince for years across all internet platforms, and he was intentionally revising history — you’d think, aww, the poor orphaned bereaved ginger, at least they let him have a concert for his Mum. This is Harry on Twitter. This isn’t the entire photo…

This is it.

Getty Artwork captures the real pose and lighting effects, and oh my, it’s Regal Leopold and Loeb. The triangular arrowpointing upward and over Diddy’s shoulder/collar and its greenness; over Kanye’s shoulder as well; and blue + pink lights over William.

Notice how Kanye’s looking up. Hold that thought…

The terrible twos. The Whalers. Oh hey you’re near a pool, not in California because you don’t live there, but, still, a pool. The royal firsty clause was decreed way before a car chase. I’ve said it over and over. Red shoes that do not match the evil toddler. Reaching for a green stem and, of course, a blue slide that is telling Prince Charles that he liessss…   

Aww. Her Charles.

Yes. A man with white hair in his 70s or 80s is neither Tom Cruise nor my cousin. Do you see how Prince Harry revises old writing to appease his rape prostitution fantasies?

You and your family are misogynistic rats… 

His rape memoir, Spare, displayed in a Dublin, Ireland bookshop with pedo book spines, a protective U2 Tom and a well-placed sticker…

His rape memoir, Spare, displayed in a Rome, Italy bookshop. 4, 7, 10.

Novità means newness or recentness. Rhymes with Lolita. Amongst the Italian-language titles, there’s a John Grisham book…

I don’t mean any disrespect to the sleeping person, but what caught my eye was another London, England book display with pointed clues to the human psychology of Prince Harry in the country where he lives: cake-lunch on what looks like time on a clock, black handrail up the stairs, 5 on the green sticker, no smoking and a grey shirt or rag tossed aside on the right…

The vague and fleeting 1980s references of throat duress or thumps on the street didn’t help me. Remember Kanye looking up? There’s the house balloon in the movie, Up. The 5 Step Up dance movies. Knocked Up. Up in the Air. Don't Look Up, the movie. There’s Last Christmas where Henry Golding tells Kate to look up. The Hangover Part II where Bradley Cooper tells Zach about his bald head and Zachary Knight Galifianakis reaches for his beard while Bradley instructs, “No, no. Up.”

Then, there’s Getty. One thing not to do as a Windsor when invited to the 9/11 Memorial is to look up where the towers used to be. The idiotic son is outing his father’s place in all this and confirming the twin causes.

Towers, as in flowers…   

This looks like a sepia-toned picture from our Grandpawpaw. Creepy as shit.

Is he saying: fuck her, son?

A lying life-thieving sexting charitable humanitarian and married father of two…

Tell Me Why Prince Harry has a thing about height. I don’t get it. But I like this picture.

Feeling like a tiny, petite, little, bite-sized, wax grape?

I think Getty is saying that Tom is gigantic because he put himself between me and you…

Visiting a Kiwi Bird Hatchery while the husband of paperwork was let’s have sex sexting communiqué with me everywhere online, during a royal duty revenge trip where they together announced their pregnancy as I watched from a computer screen in middle-age with nothing...

This was among the Getty Montecito news.

The Duke & Duchess of Sussex and their two kids do not live in Montecito, Santa Barbara, California. The Duke & Duchess live apart, in different countries.

I’m a city gal and I know for certain this isn’t a lizard…

This is the King of Denmark. His official title is King Frederik X of Denmark. His ascension to the throne happened after the formal abdication of his mother Queen Margrethe II, when she broke with Danish royal tradition and retired on January 14, 2024. It wasn’t radical or surprising, given that throughout her reign, she was a strong proponent for equality and women's rights. However. She said she was retiring due to the major back surgery she underwent and I remember thinking, huh, that’s medically specific. From a balcony, Frederik said he hoped to be a king of tomorrow. Dammit. I had left Twitter and knew I got it wrong.

Have I mentioned that the King lived up the street from me when we were in college and he was a visiting student at Harvard for two semesters?

This was in 2016… 

The Now-King Frederik X of Denmark, my friend, is giving Tom the green light…

This is the right way to look up. His then-wife, Mimi Rogers, seven years older than Tom, with a pointed finger, the little girl hair clip, the two lights, all from photographer Barry King…

Another Prince Harry Celica account with the N-word and Modern Family actors that represent an agent, Tom Cruise and himself. An account that Harry has since deleted.

Why would he delete it?

Celica are the letters in Charlie…

I thought, oh good, Is It Over Now, I figured it out, Tom’s the bad guy. The Ruiner.

A Royal Lady account where we communicated. I’ve removed the real picture of the real woman that he stole from somewhere.

Harry’s trying to pin blame on Tom and an Uncle at the highest point up there and out-trend a Hollywood marriage… 

Haunted melodies. Ah! It’s my birthday again. Why wouldn’t I think someone was trying to hurt me? I’ve had nothing in life, a bit outcasted, online there are thousands of mentions about convent school, and all I see are pictures of violence against women who kinda-sorta resemble me. That’s not a picture of Tom; that’s a girl.

Above her are U’s on his main log-in account of Archillect... 

The Queen’s funeral. A couple of green-trimmed things: the lone tree on the left; the license plate that goes from sultriness to ick due to The Brothers Grimm; one real couple that looks fake and distressed while the personal-ad maternity couple looks real; pointing on gravel; and red in the corner. An illusion, visual mumblecore without the heart that was probably a Getty Image that he manipulated in the margins of his own website.

I highlighted the tweet because I can recognize a 1990s picture from anywhere. Oatmeal, as in sowing wild oats/sewing/sawing. Expert...

To squander a girl’s career, dreams of a family, and then exile her in the process. Usually, it’s just one of those things, and in a horror film. Welp, not the career I had hoped for. Or, gosh, not the partnership I envisioned for myself. But to be without everything. And told it’s because of invisible noncode and a pale butchered typist in a different country. I wonder why there are unhealthy patterns at home and at work, fights, depression, and so many divorces. The illegal deportations, campus shootings, terrorism and wars. Prince Harry.

[lavelled]

Sometimes the Englishman visits a battlefront country where people suffer from guided missiles in order to push his UK generational agenda and then other times he writes: Earl Grey—I even have it with a splash of milk. But then, I've always been a bit of a maverick.

Prince Harry is more forthcoming in website comments.

From Ukraine, we jump then fall into Reddit and once more read about PG Tips tea company repartee. I didn’t know this was a thing.

I should have.

I defy the Windsor norms and not think too much of the Peen Talk babble. Prince Harry is oversexed and undersexed. It’s his filthy mouth that never stops. PG Tips is a foreplay reference to penile surgery or genital mutilation. He talks of sweet tea, secondhand tea, tea for opera people, and more niche tea.

He means cutting and recutting.

Six months ago, he must’ve experienced a tea-leaf high or didn’t like a blog essay because he advertises British parental authorized cuppa triangular firsties.

So glad the works of a madman with sliced genitals on the brain can be self-published for profit and harassment while he sells Duke & Duchess merch and maintains life-theft paperwork that causes things like gun violence, arson, and suicide.

I don’t have room for these screengrabs.

K

Charlie Wilson's War is a 2007 CIA film starring Tom Hanks. The sentence is missing a “to” here. Unexpectedly, Harry outs his much older father.

This is Prince Harry on Twitter…

Number 1 under vacillate.

This is Prince Harry on Reddit…

[lavelled]

Your new podcast, Confessions of a Female Contortionist, was supposed to premiere on March 25th. Why the change up? It might be because it’s a censored podcast of maleness room tone where Prince Harry dictates the content and direction of conversation through a Windsor non-disclosure agreement, evident by the first episode’s childbirth medical story, laid out well to satisfy Harry’s decades-long Tom Cruise vengeance and my stolen life, career and uterus.

I kind of hope ratings are low.

I read that you met with war victims today in a surprise visit to Ukraine, which is interesting because just last night your headlines were that your plane touched down in London, where you live, quick trip, for a High Court hearing where you were dramatically ushered out of court by bodyguards. You have supersonic aircraft. Big Boy Harry can travel. He has a passport. Tom is devastated. It’s not like you’re overwatched or human motion tracked or something.

Interspersed throughout his make-believe California news, the Prince of Vaginas, or Paginas, is lamenting how to best defend his firsties female entitlement, how to best coverup his e-commerce earnings measured in knots and early deaths, and how to best dramatize his 1990s grief spiral.

Or, he’s thinking of whom else in his family he can give cancer to. I don’t know what goes on during their silly little dinner conversations.

I imagine it must be difficult these days for a cyber miniaturist to rise above what his father’s timekeeping deathtrap paperwork and a sharpened pen has revealed: global terrorism, military coups, murder, suicide, suicide bombers, school shootings, kidnapping, divorce, depression and some badass nonviolent sidewalk political protests. He wants to play National Humanitarian Aid Worker, but he’s also the bro who chose technobabble cum-work to promote the ownership of a defiantly resisting educated woman.

Aaahh! Stealing a human girl can be so stigmatizing!

In front of rolling cameras, you’ve listed off your high-end lifestyle, multiple homes, country clubs, international travel, West Coast activities, awards and distinctions, biological babies, a squatty potty Netflix series, published books, and your TED Talks among other achievements. Even if the luxury is exaggerated, and I realize that the billionaire inflation is retaliatory and your fairytale marriage isn’t a typical royal marriage as it’s a puppeted wife stipend, but, in fairness, you’ve known of my aloneness, my academic debt, my budgets, and my unreachable goals which would be fine if I set out and failed but I’ve been restricted in my everyday life by society and had to watch you for nine years in America do the precise things I’ve outlined in letters and emails that was denied me my whole life because of whatever this is.

Harry jumped the line so Prince Charles wouldn’t be perceived as a pedophile. Harry, The Scrounger, has been passing off my letters as his own, trying to act all bed-and-breakfast husband-type when he’s really alone in the UK, writing of finishing touches and stitches loose and bagged tea. As the lowliest member of his royal family and the biggest burden, he was allowed an Internet continuum in which to advertise stray tweets, redditor posts, book reviews, book publishing, BBC blogging, and auteur Netflix filmmaking clips, an insult to every actor screenwriter director hopeful. His sideways and upside-down tech job has kept a good-fortune trust fund Prince rich and made him even richer. In spite of illegal and inhumane paperwork that was egregiously looked upon as his ghostly detriment.

Right. His detriment. Prince Harry has met everyone from the King of Morocco to President Obama and gave a speech at the United Nations on Mandela Day and he’s been talking about a slice of boob cake during interviews and online since he was 10.

True to your word, Harry, you’ve ignored any professional guidance and the pleas of dying and dead kids and persevered with your technological infodump company, your paperwork holding and your chisel. For what? To be in the long-distance marital doghouse, to have me repeatedly say No in recorded print, to broadcast your vengeance across war wounded platforms when everyone online, from the bottom up, hates you but wouldn’t want to encroach on the invisible doctrine that states nobody can give the 40-year-old kindergarten rapist prince a cyber boo boo as he bullies teens with wagon suicide club threats, green lasers and writes ecstatically of bloody dismemberment and life theft. Mustn’t scream in his face. No, no. There was a celebrity suicide. You can’t dart your eyes theatrically. A church or school shooting. Report on it mildly. A serviceman sets himself on fire but don’t shake up the narrative.

This sedentary, non-athletic, tantrum, breast-milk, foulmouthed, regular idiot deadweight has been treated like an imposing army officer with a set of dos and don’ts and I’m confused as to how this has stayed in place for this amount of years.

Your Sentebale news with your sprawling wife in a boss-lady authoritative pose is the work of the devil since you’re only using her for her Killtom name. It’s clear to everyone that Meghan, the paid criminal accessory, has been NDA-ed into royal silence, she disowned any authentic personality, she signed away all traces of self-proclaimed feminism and, underneath, she knows the universe’s history books have painted her as a fake Duchess with a vagina, bones, and teeth, handpicked because she was easily seduced and nothing more. Good choice to keep circulating the Sentebale pedophiliac press to ensure that she and the kids will always be remembered for paperwork harmony long after you’re gone.

Jas Waters was a writer, screenwriter, journalist and columnist for Vibe magazine. She was a staff writer for the family drama, This Is Us, and Jim Carrey's show, Kidding, on Showtime. It was her story that inspired the movie, What Men Want, a 2019 romantic comedy starring Taraji P. Henson. On June 9, 2020, she died from suicide by hanging in her Hollywood home. She was 39.

Rose Emily Paterson was a British business executive, fundraiser, and the chairperson of Aintree Racecourse. She was of nobility as the daughter of Matthew White Ridley, 4th Viscount Ridley. She studied history at Murray Edwards College, a part of University of Cambridge and took an art history course in Venice. At one point, she worked for Sotheby's auction house. In the early hours of June 24, 2020, she walked to Sodylt Wood, a small woodland nature path near her home in Ellesmere, England. Her death was ruled a suicide by hanging. She was 63.

Hayford Peirce, from Bangor, Maine, was a science fiction and spy writer. He wrote mystery novels that were translated into several languages. He wrote for the Analog Science Fiction Magazine, Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, and Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine. He eventually moved to Pima County, Tucson, Arizona with his wife. On November 19, 2020, the sheriff’s deputies were called to his home for a welfare check and found his wife dead at the scene. Hayford had killed her and then committed suicide with a self-inflicted gunshot. He was 78.

Bjørn Opsahl was a renowned Norwegian fashion and portrait photographer, director, and lecturer from Oslo. Opsahl taught photography and directing at Bilder Nordic School of Photography in Oslo. His photographs have been published in Rolling Stone, The Financial Times, ELLE, and Cosmopolitan. He was a judge on Top Model Norway, Top Model Sweden and all the seasons of Norway’s Miss Universe. After moving to Los Angeles in 2008, he participated in the tattoo artist Kat Von D's television show, LA Ink. He committed suicide two months ago, on February 27, 2025, at 56-years-old.

Hollywood has offered you a full picture of strikingly green color in their movie titles. Fried Green Tomatoes. The Green Mile. Green Street Hooligans. Greenberg. Green Zone. The Green Hornet.  Green Lantern. The Odd Life of Timothy Green. The Green Inferno. Green Book. Wicked. The television series, Project Greenlight. The green dress worn by Keira Knightly in the movie, Atonement. The boat dock’s green light symbolizing the American Dream in the movie, The Great Gatsby. Barbara Broccoli is one of the most famous female producers in the business and the creative mastermind behind the James Bond film franchise. She hired actress Eva Green to play the character, Vesper Lynd, in Casino Royale in 2006. I believe Hollywood has doused its films in green to give you the bright go-ahead to do something about the dim gatekeepy Prince.

Bruce Seth Green, no relation to the actor, was a famed television director whose credits include: Knight Rider, Hercules, Babylon 5, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Dawson’s Creek, Gilmore Girls, Law & Order and Diagnosis Murder. He died four months ago on January 25, 2025, of natural causes, at 83. The statistical aspect of quantum mechanics tell me in a finite amount of googleable knowledge that in the decades that followed him throughout his profession, this television director of a mature age and tripled name knew exactly what an elder King did all those years ago.

One of the greatest singers, performers and entertainers in the world, Michael Jackson, hired Conrad Robert Murray, a former cardiologist, to be his personal physician. I believe it was Michael’s noble intention to expose the Windsor family. Since Michael achieved solo stardom in 1980, he also knew that it was Prince Charles who tried to pimp out a little girl.

Pope Francis is the chosen head of the Catholic Church and sovereign of the Vatican City State. His name is Jorge (George) Mario Bergoglio. He was born in Argentina on the nonsymbolic date of December 17 to his father Mario, an Italian-born accountant, and mother, Regina. His siblings are Oscar Adrián, Marta Regina, and Alberto Horacio. His consecration—the permanent dedication and induction into a religious life of service—was performed by the archbishop Antonio Quarracino.

Pope Francis and his envoy just donated four ambulances to Ukraine to be used on the front lines of the war.

The Pope’s April Prayer, delivered by video last week, was on how “technology is the fruit of the intelligence God gave us.” Pope Francis said and I quote: “something’s wrong if we spend more time on our cell phones than with people.” I’ll stop you there, Holy See Water Tech Diner. I’m not convinced our one-lung, oft-hospitalized, 88-year-old geriatric pilgrim uses a cellphone or a laptop computer and uses it well. Insofar as the Vatican Press Office subtle messaging and the reason why a King addressed both houses of the Italian Parliament yesterday, I believe The Vatican is sending you, Tom Cruise, the green light and a saved soul.

K

Her Deleted Instagram.

Her new Instagram, her As Ever website, her As Ever jam products, her Confessions podcast are operated by Prince Harry. Duchess Sparkles cannot read the news, internet, or send work email. She cannot speak freely per royal contracts.

A heavy-duty dog gate, imprisonment, flirts with Big Tech Prince directly with huge, circusdog means circumcise. Back in 2013…

Wistfulness. About testicles. On her future husband.

The sport of bocce.

There’s a dry crack and two benches that would become the title of her picture book, The Bench, published in 2021, which reached number one on The New York Times Best Seller list. Not only have I had nothing in life, but Bench really means fence as in Harry wants to cut two people…

In the previous blog, there was a Boston Housekeeping photoshoot where she was single two months before she and Harry supposedly had their first official date in London, July 2016, per Royal Press. In his rape memoir, Spare, he writes that he and Megs had their first date at Soho House in London on July 3, 2016.

Yet here she is in London, at a hotel, alone, single, room-serviced on July 1st. Also, a corkscrew.

After 48 blogs, I’m starting to believe the Royal Press has lied to us about this womb-heirs relationship…

Bright gothic colors. The waxwork couple the weekend of the royal wedding. A tourist demonstrates how she’s a muzzled Duchess, there’s an armed action star dizzying nearby, a vagina near fruit plate energy and the double V-head of a jester behind the arranged business couple…   

The royal embodiment of a diversity ad — inked by her second white husband.

Getty is doing what it does best: outing the crusty pedophile father and son duo on Twitter…

I realize that blowjobs mean blown away in Windsor Code, but how good are these Duchess blowjobs that there are so many tweets and photographs dedicated to them…

Oh, they’re award winning. The sex act is trophied at the polo club. Two short months after the royal wedding, a heroic female athlete dramatizes… 

Wellington International Airport in New Zealand. On the 5th step, I was an ensnared, choiceless minor; the Windsors are pedoes; and you and your pregnant nonwife are heartless cunts…

Another international trip. Morocco. Getty made it black and white. On the right, pillowing down into a blanket draped over the concrete steps makes it look like it's a corpse. And two cunts…

For the umpteenth time, Prince Harry, Meghan, Archie and Lilibet do not live in Montecito, Santa Barbara, California. They’ve never lived there. Harry & Meghan don’t live together. What a photograph: it’s a Trompe l'oeil, or trick of the eye, which I’ve written to Harry about and no I don’t have those convos I’ve proved enough, the printed letters on this notice seem doubled. Crinkled paper? No. Wet from heavy rains? Nope. It’s illusionistic and also a neon, green, direct message to Tom.

I’m being loud, Mr. Gomes…

Bookshops, their employees and customers artfully display the twoface evil monster and then document it…

As it states, in London, England, in 2023, in a glass encasement, they displayed Harry’s memoir, Spare, plastered with human blood donated from Afghanistan citizens.

Getty didn’t take still photographs, they took a video. Of Harry. Blood-flecked. In England…

In Cairo, Egypt, their unique and colorful bookshop display. How to karma…

In Morzine, a ski resort in the French Alps, the revealing and unique bookshop display. L'envol means takeoff or flight…

In Kyiv, Ukraine, their unique display up to Harry’s neck, with President Barack Obama, Matthew McConaughey, Will Smith, Angela Merkel, Steve Jobs, Stan Lee, and a Val Kilmer/Tom Cruise nearby…

Suffice it to say, Val Kilmer didn’t make a habit of writing Meghan Markle, Eminem or MM tweets ten days after the nationally broadcasted royal wedding.

Val exposes this threat to Maverick, which is written by the CEO, Prince Harry…

A different Celica account, maintained by Prince Harry Mountbatten-Windsor. He talks of California, cutting ties, screaming names, a little girl, throne, pushing for dreams — as a married father humanitarian tech jobbed rich royal while I’ve had nothing, still, at 52…

That official Celica account where we conversed the topic of sports. We communicated through direct conversation, retweets and faves. Here, with my initials, he’s declaring first mount leadoff of a teenage 17-year-old girl. Bureau, as in, you owe me.

This is a rape society pact, in all its flipping.

He’s trending Kat. Digitally literate buds are out-trending Harry and the prince, outnumbered, tries to threaten them with a retweet…

He’s acting his balls off. Youth baseball, because his family likes ‘em young. A confessing stance, the word Grow behind his head, a blooded red dot and a shoelaced balletic toe…

My old twitter account. Harry’s horseshit caught my eye.

PG Tips is a play on words; it’s both a popular brand of tea in the UK and the name of a famous English humor writer, PG Wodehouse, whose full name is Pelham Grenville Wodehouse. Directing his ire at Tom, vis-a-vis a cousin.

I know what subject line you’re referring to here. Yes, in that email, my writer friend does refer to me as a mum. But like the second account name says, the math doesn’t add up…

Harry's mini account.

I thought, why is the young female cyberpunk cut open? Why does it look like puzzled heart surgery? Why are the only people nice to me on a computer or movie screen? What did I do?  Where did my dreams go? Why does this cloaked man want to hurt her…

Basement Hibernation.

On the two monitors, they look like film slates.

On Harry’s main account, endlessly tweeting out this idea of career death, a mysterious Mr. Robot, the overseer, whoever he is, is painted as a cold, creepy, abusive Internet addict and I was growing more and more concerned…

His main Archillect account. Obviously, I had my doubts about Harry as I thought to date stamp it because he’s, you know, talking about a symbolic birthday and forced dick. They’re out-trending him…

That GOAT twitter account where I caught Harry taunting Tom about hacked mad libs. We’d communicate on this page, too. These are Harry’s brute sex fantasy faves. No woman thinks of herself as plucked or unplucked, broken or unbroken, stitched or unstitched.

You're a sick psycho…

I read a quote from the book, "Movie-Struck Girls: Women and Motion Picture Culture After the Nickelodeon." It's written by Film and Digital Media Professor at University of California-Santa Cruz, Shelley Stamp. Shelley wrote about women in serial films — when women were earning the right to vote, actresses were re-defining womanhood and femininity onscreen. I thought, I’m buying this book. One problem: Harry is the sole Amazon reviewer from twenty years ago, when he was 20. And the paperback is $65, which doesn’t seem logical or egalitarian. This feminist film historian professor has to have one flat review on Amazon by a Sex Kitten Dot Net reviewer, the complainer in a castle with nothing else to do in his alienation but kill dreams with his penknife.

Shelley must've noticed the review, too. The cover of the next book she wrote, Lois Weber in Early Hollywood, features a Tom lookalike.

This is Prince Harry...

You knew my dreams because I wrote about them in handwritten letters and emails that you read. You took white space on the page and on the internet and tried to make it seem like your family was victimized and the dead end career of a nobody was payback.

I cared. My pen pal cared.

A headshot…

Neil Hattrick Harris with the three W’s. In 2013, as part of his BBC blogging employment, he mentions that he wants candy, just like his pedo daddy. Ireland, Belfast, breakfast, firsties. I Almost Do know what your ex-girlfriend, Cressida, would say as she and I have a lot in common. She’d say, we say, you have the green light, Tom…

A couple of things that, separately, both I and Big Tech Harry noticed about this Prime Minister and Pope photo: one brunette with an iphone, a mask, two professional shutterbugs, a Canadian badge, a red K next to For Your Health on the wheelchair and Monsignori giving you the green light…

4 days before the royal wedding, Getty is outside another souvenir shop, reminding everyone that this is a fake arranged marriage simply to be cruel. No condoms, but a royal scepter, giving Tom the green light…

If This Was A Movie… oh wait, it is. I caught Harry’s threats this past Monday. The day that Tom released his final trailer for Mission: Impossible—The Final Reckoning. I don’t think Harry’s too pleased that this action spy airship icy oceanic combat movie exists.

Prince Harry Mountbatten-Windsor, the Duke of Sussex, father and husband, humanitarian aid worker and award winner, activist and published author, polo player and television goof is promising murder and a rape on Reddit — and then he deleted it...

This is why I’ve had nothing for decades. So a prince can earn money outside of his trust fund and have biological kids with someone far away he doesn't like and go through life unscathed enough to write Severe Rope on the internet. That's not fair. Also, he means rape her.

[lavelled]

In writing about Prince Harry’s psychological issues and a promising life stolen, I don’t have room for these screengrabs in the next blog.

Prince Harry recently involved the actress Zoe Saldaña in his As Ever lifestyle brand. What fun it was, to catch him try to damage her film, Emilia Pérez, at the height of its success. I believe there was some well-publicized controversy a while back.

I don’t know for certain if Harry’s chainsaw crew picked Zoe because of parental Z-names, because her husband is Italian-born, because her film exposes Harry’s criminal family or they wish to distinguish their Prince as an imbecilic daddy's boy. But might you leave her and the film alone now?

There’s no A-list buddyship. The PR is about slicing and dicing.

From there, on Reddit, our inflamed Prince wrote an amped up conversation. In a Planned Parenthood chatroom.

For a motormouth who only got shushed rather than nailed shut, Harry’s grab-ass threats, his international publishing, his goody book reviews, his cinema studies, his tickety tock videos, his laser pointers, his Tweets, his Instagram and his BBC blogging spittle all reached a wide audience and, perhaps, that was a decades-long comical misstep.

K

During the live ceremony on Oscar night, an unmasked Prince Harry is sabotaging the song of Meghan’s pal; YouTube the song/video on the Still Watching Netflix channel…

Reddit. A few days ago.

Hey There Daisy May is really So long Daisy May, a lyric from Taylor’s song, You’re On Your Own, Kid.

It’s really the next line that he’s promoting: I picked the petals. After a blog about terrorist attacks, bombings, suicides, and a torturous hate crime, he goes into a Planned Parenthood (PP) chatroom to declare firsties through a Title X family planning law, but really he means Title IX, which is a gender-based discrimination in athletics law that was passed in the nonsymbolic year of 1972. Notice the URL is cuts…

[lavelled]

That was a gleeful video you edited on YouTube.

The artificial camera pan, or the cutaway, hurt my eyes. The Reddit self-satisfaction, a gesture that said: Yay, I’m duping the public and declaring first vagina stabbings — are two things that I’ve been saying all along that you do and that I’ve railed against from the get-go.

I used to edit short films with my buddies. Well, no, but I was in the editing room with my screenplay propped up on my knees like a desk, watching on needles, pins, as they spliced the film. It was a part of my life. But the life went nowhere. Film — not royalty — has occupied my thoughts for a long time now.

We’re always thrilled to see the scavengers, Meghan and Horace, who remain crocheted together because why ask for a long-distance divorce. The ongoing advocacy for gender equality in employment through dignified blowjobs. Duchess in a rental unit, trying to fork A-list paths through a mouth-hole, plotting on how to best divide, carve, chop, and cut up a woman into small bits and pieces.

Is abetting a rapist hampering her career?

Only this woman, who I had never heard of before Harry, could live in California her whole life, know about Columbine, 9/11, and Sandy Hook, know for certain why she was handpicked as it has to do with mixtapes, get outed on an international level, tell Harry you can count on me and then try to pivot toward a homespun and maternal companionship public image.

You don’t get to trample on my early aspirations and uterus for four decades and then suddenly try to give your budgeting nonwife a source of deep inner pride and credibility through fake videos with the esteemed actors I’ve wanted to work with forever.

The roads seem no longer paved in whalebone artifact King Cometh news. You get one day of feverish news coverage and then the story is subdued. Something about a hospitalization for Charles, droopy lies like the lifeless skeleton he is, and the chain reaction around the world was to yawn three times. Between us, nobody gives a shit about the three Windsor horse buggies, four if you include Meghan Murgle and we do. He’s sick, but that has nothing to do with cancer. He’s cancer-free. The big-box store known as The Windsor Knot Hole isn’t given the newsfeed of yore, the life raft treatment that has allowed you and your family to live oh so comfortably while I’ve lived on nothing way over here. In my mind, your news is scrawled on an office whiteboard and then erased by a suede elbow-patched sweater accompanied by meowing sounds.

But I watch a lot of movies.

Interesting that the Tom Cruise playbook hasn’t mentioned living in manors, mansions, boasting of pricey sartorial excess or jewels or advertising his online billion-dollar superficial sandwich jam-spread shop, vacationing, traveling to exotic places, attending Hollywood movie premieres and events other than his own, no masquerade balls, Polo clubbing, angling for famous personages or titles or collecting sports cars when he’s aware that I’ve been broke as I’m stymied by whatever this is. Tom Cruise sleeps on a windswept tarmac near a construction pit for all I know. I only know he drives planes with a flyswatter on the wings of a jet. In fact, he did this non-evil thing which is to recognize that I’m not stuck in the past nor in present day, and that I, too, age upwards like everyone else, so when he publicly filed for divorce in 2012, he didn’t ten years later parade a marriage or several births when I was well into my 40s. That would’ve been cruel.

Harry is at his Harryest on Reddit. You don’t need to be tech savvy to track his movements. He writes things like mothercrusher, dick holster, backpedal, discourse, venting, sit the eff down because he’s obsessed with all things elf, stealing data because he’s a grown man, total stooges because he’s an old vaudeville act, pretends to sell DVDs in 4K with either a slipcover or a seal because he’s an Etsy Seller, and The Danse Macabre because he’s a French composer.

He steals the internet to use as his own personal self-serve kiosk for revenge. Where a movie can take up to five years of development, Big Tech Prince Henry Mountbatten-Windsor is underfoot on cyber land daily to explore new ways to implement his ice pick threats in piecemeal that are inessential to businesses, politics, education, and social order. Prince Harry and his company scatter sex breadcrumbs on the novel-length internet that already upsets me and then loads it with demands of teenage rape and its innuendos that only contribute more pain to the world.

We know of Prince Harry’s technological pollution. This is obvious. Between scouring the globe for jobs for his entrepreneur nonwife to help push his vagina agenda, Prince Harry’s side hustle is pretending to track air travel and imply that he has aircraft authorization. You’re a dishonest, aggressive, womanizing sadist who has been alone, unsupervised and placated your whole life because nobody likes you except William, hurling epithets in the comments section when you knew that the agreement sparked violence and that the largest acts of terrorism were due to the senior members of your family so you pretended that you were experiencing grave misfortunes as a shy, sweet prince only to be a diary rapist who could’ve stopped this decades ago when you saw people jumping from collapsing buildings, but instead converted into a full-time tech-bro to try to erase, refashion and revise what writers, artists, photographers, singers, and filmmakers had already exposed on the original Prince. They are fake coordinates like a police scanner on the fritz. They are threats to Maverick a la a birthday. He updates it like a sociopathic tallyman. If you see any celebrity jet navigation, it’s fake and is done by better people.

His link below:

https://www.reddit.com/user/plane-notify/

Harry, you must feel like a disappointment, failing to serve England, to marry well, to live honestly, having all the privileges, choices, and money to succeed and you still fucked it up.

A 13-year-old boy fatally shot his classmate, Anaya Zachary, 14, at her apartment complex playground in Baytown, Texas last week on March 21, 2025. Police added that a bystander, a woman who was holding her baby, sustained an injury from the fired rounds. The young teens were both students in the Goose Creek school district. The 13-year-old suspect was charged with murder and placed into custody at the Harris County Juvenile Detention Center.

Camila María Concepción was a trans Latina American writer and actor who worked on the two Netflix series, Gentefied and Daybreak. A graduate of Yale University and selected by Michelle Obama in 2018, she spoke about transgender representation in the media at The United State of Women Summit. She killed herself on February 21, 2020. She was 28.

Molly Brodak was an accomplished poet and baker. She was the author of the poetry collection, A Little Middle of the Night and the book, Bandit: A Daughter's Memoir. Brodak was also the founder of Kookie House, a baking blog with cookie and cake recipes that she made with edible paints and where she wrote about slicing cookie dough logs from the freezer. She committed suicide by gunshot on March 8, 2020. She was 39.

Byron Daniel Bernstein, better known as Reckful, was an American-Israeli Twitch streamer and professional esports player, with over 936,000 followers, who was born in Los Angeles. He had been working as a developer on his own video game, Everland, which was set to release when he committed suicide on July 2, 2020 in Austin, TX. He was 31.

Kailia Lexis Posey was an American beauty pageant contestant and reality television personality best known for the show, Toddlers & Tiaras. She won countless crowns and trophies after competing on the pageant circuit her entire life. On May 2, 2022, she was found dead at Birch Bay State Park in Lynden, Washington from hanging. She was 16.

Matthew Wayne Shepard was a slight, maybe 5 foot 2 student at the University of Wyoming who used to keep journals and notebooks, writing his mantra of I am generous, I am loving, I am playful, who was beaten and killed because of his sexual orientation. At midnight on October 7, 1998, at 21 years-old, he was offered a ride home by two men at a bar in Laramie in a The Brothers Grimm/Leopold and Loeb way, luring Matthew with the intent to rob him, yet severely beat him with about 20 blows to the head with the butt of a quite large revolver, causing four skull fractures, crushing his brain stem, and then tied Matthew to a wooden prairie fence with clothesline, stealing his shoes, and leaving him bloodied and motionless to slip into a coma and die. That same night, the two men returned to town and picked a fight with two different men named Emiliano Morales and Jeremy Herrara. When Matthew was found 18 hours later, he was transported to a hospital, though never regained consciousness and remained on life support. His injuries were too severe for doctors to operate. He died five days after the attack.

On October 26, 2018, 20 years after his death, Matthew Shepard’s ashes were interred at the Washington National Cathedral, the Episcopal house of worship, as a final resting place. Same year as the royal wedding. A gay priest led the remembrance service. Along with Rev. Mariann Edgar Budde, the Bishop who recently urged the current administration for mercy, kindness and compassion toward gay, lesbian, and transgender children and immigrants and their families.

The killers of Matthew Shepard were Aaron McKinney and Russell Henderson and were convicted of his murder in 1999 and sentenced to two consecutive life terms in prison. From what I’ve read, Matthew was attacked and killed because he was full of promise, because he was a diminutive mark, because he was openly gay and because he represented, among other things, a German Shepherd. Finally, it was because of Prince Harry and what he notoriously inherited.

This is the 46th blog via notes and photographs. The must-read curation has got to be the ending. The ending that storytellers have suggested through art, music, books, graves, even fire. I don’t know if we’re on a different clock, but I’m 52, and it’s possible that the green light was always there for Tom, not me, or years of cinema have been misdirected. Tom, if you see Halloween decorations or a Christmastime wonderland, sea cliffs or a fence, ambulances or a rainbow, black lines on a tampon box like they’ve put on mine, if you see objects of any kind or a complete void — the message is for you to do something. The actor Andrew Shue founded the organization Do Something in 1993 and then founded the site, CafeMom, which I don’t believe is a coincidence since you starred with his sister in the movie, COCKTAIL. If Harry is crouched underground or atop the library roof, the idea has always been for you do something.

K

My old tweet account, 2022 trending topics.

In 2022, I retweeted their lies during that Netflix doc series that saw her cry over the lack of privacy for her children when nobody chased her; where she used the word cooter; her mother broke down in tears as she spoke about her daughter having suicidal thoughts that never happened; and the Fucksters emotional over a miscarriage I predict didn't happen either.

I thought I was being loud and clear as the life-career-uterus-stolen older misfit…

Her Deleted Instagram.

Her new Instagram, her As Ever website, her Confessions podcast are operated by Prince Harry. Duchess Sparkles cannot read the news, internet, send work email. She cannot speak freely per royal contracts.

Boss lady homemaker writes in cartoon Disney tropes, flirting with the Tech Prince. A fascinator is a formal headpiece worn by high-society nobility.

This Instagram pic was posted one month after the attack that took place on April 15, 2013 known as the Boston Marathon Bombing. There was a manhunt. There was an overnight lockdown. There was a shootout. The suspect was found hiding in a boat one town away. The attack killed three people and injured hundreds of others near the finish line, where people lost limbs. The youngest victim was Martin Richard. He was 8. But this woman, in the kitten pose, agreed to marry, fuck, and have babies with the bombing’s architect...

Boom, like a bombing?

If only there was the slightest shred of evidence that this woman knew about a little girl and what a then-Prince and his son wanted from her.

Find. Founded. Like her Finders Keepers Rape podcast…

The contract brainchild on a toy horse. Knob slang.

K on the frog. What am I, five-years-old?

July 17, Green Light, Tom.

This man is so fundamentally disgusting that he can’t Polo without giving off rapey creepy orgasmic vibes. For Prince Harry, Polo is equated with sex and firsties. I’ve said No. And I think you’re doing it wrong…

On May 15, 2016, a Good Housekeeping photoshoot in Boston. Two piglets. The initialed mirage of JAT in the storefront window. Bag of French bread pointing to the Italian shop.

Royal press said that the Duke & Duchess went on their first date in July 2016 while Meghan was in town for Wimbledon. Here she is, single and in Boston, in May.

Must’ve been a superquick meet cute…

The Purple Reign of royal heritage condoms, a four pack that they sold as royal wedding merchandise. This is real. This is Getty. Notice Lot number, the elevated number below that and amor…

I reported that the Sussex marriage was made in a nightclub bathroom.

Heroic British folks wish to clarify that their marriage was made in an outdoor communal loo…

On their blessed wedding day: three fingers on the door handle, door arrowing to her vadge, V-Tip shoe, red-vested woman behind them, all on regal grounds…

The first official engagement as a married mustachioed fake Duchess. A variety of expressive totally convinced well-wishers…

I don’t know what tennis icon, Serena Williams, has to do with Harry’s charity polo event drama, but it seems he’s mad about his Reddit razor admission. Serena was included in his press recently.

A different tennis court appearance in 2019 — a slit dress chosen by Harry I bet, a crotchety iPhone, Alexis wearing a red-lettered t-shirt with a ticket behind him, a brunette way up in the corner and Tom…

I caught this tonight. He’s still upset about that fake foodie food-blog moment in the California rental house.

Amber, a trending comedian, test tubes for surgery and Taubes who is Gary Taubes, a journalist, author, Nutrition Scientist, a Harvard grad who holds two Master's degrees. Why? All in the House, M.D. tv discussion room because where else would you vent about cutting?

Harry & Sparkles will solve racism, in separate houses, in separate countries, by cutting a girl. Did anybody catch how Harry, the CEO, imprinted a March Madness Bracket Challenge on the website? It was false advertising and lasted about one day until it was removed. I caught it. Tom caught it.

It was about cutting two people, guess who...

This is a good example of internet self-publishing by Harry, the kid from a castle using the N-word. The multiple double-u. The married father with his own tech company is upset because he wants to cut a woman...

I’ve never seen a town so eager to distance themselves from four people, but for the nth time, The Duke & Duchess and their two children do not live in Montecito, California. Out of all the many photographic subjects in Montecito she can possibly document, Valerie chooses a Montecito Preschool located on Valley Road in a Presbyterian Church where the phone number alphanumerically spells out ELMO.

Holy shit…

I recognized the Sicilian. Sort of. I remember thinking, huh, Twitter has a lot of pent-up vitriol for my agent cousin. He’s not quite as old as this suggests. I estimate they’re referring to King Charles.

Here are two Onion articles that explain:

https://theonion.com/terrifying-man-selling-dead-trees-out-of-middle-school-1819575937/

https://theonion.com/excited-british-public-tunes-in-for-live-broadcast-of-k-1851177134/

First Pitch at the Twins vs Mets game for no reason whatsoever. Neither is it coincidental that the photographer captures a sporty girl behind him on the baseball diamond…

Rugby Football Union on the date of October 17 for no reason whatsoever. A smart female athlete…

The loved-up couple attending Sox vs Yankees, the first-ever MLB game played in London, for no reason whatsoever. My hometown team. That I talked incessantly about with him as Celica. Meghan had just given birth on May 6, 2019.

I think the photographer is implying that you’re both twats. A Kate Middleton lookalike…

It’s true that some accounts Harry and his company don’t control. He, Prince Harry Mountbatten-Windsor, posts absolute violent filth on Kanye’s page and, for the life of me, I can’t sit idly by...

This time, the ghostwriting alias is Marjorie Reynolds, the name of a real musical film actress of a bygone era, born on August 12, 1917 that he picked for no reason whatsoever. Cape Foulweather. It’s real and located 500 feet above the Pacific Ocean, along Oregon’s coast.

Who wants to give him and his wife a Netflix series or a podcast or a charity award?

This is Prince Harry…

Self-explanatory. He wants to cut two humans.

This is Prince Harry…

In 2009, at 25-years-old, he’s quietly admitting to what his pedo father did to a little girl, mentioning page 21, bloody battles, and is a fan of The Apprentice…

Goodreads. I didn’t know his company was in charge of the five-star praise, the unfair adequate reviews, and, ultimately, the deliberate one-star hate. This is his vital contribution to literature and society.

This is Prince Harry back in August...

Madrid, Spain — die-hard fans of King Charles and Harry’s memoir…

You can google the Princess statue, but this photo caught my eye with its clipped, cone-shaped, evergreen shrubs, a reporter in a red tie, a brunette on a bike with a lowered mask, and a grey-jacketed Tom being sent a message…

That pathological Netflix series, like she’s Mother of the Year. She just participated in a girl-cutting video with the 9/11 Marathon teen suicide paperwork guy.

Notice the scissors…

I would see photos like this and think: huh, I'm still confused. I know a guy but who is this guy. Has to be the evil one, right, the way he’s positioned. In power. Usually in dark clothing, hood, mask, a mad figure. I wasn’t getting it. Notice the algorithm on trending topics...

Tom. It would take years, but movies and those who write, direct and act in them have offered unfolding scenes of articulate clarity. Two cyber sources. One for good. The silver laptop is underneath him…

Harry’s account...

He's claiming first dibs on a Meghan Yoga pose. Alright. Yeah. Sure. You can have her.

Actually, he’s talking about girl-cutting.

Looks like a MacPherson name tag. A threatening one-armed military pose, of course. I’m guessing this was a Getty Image beforehand that you manipulated for tweeting. Yet the Gettiness still shines through...

[lavelled]

I’m allotted 30 pictures per post, and I don’t want to include Harry’s latest attempt at Duchess clout and validation in the next blog. I tend to offer insights into choicelessness, suicide, suburban murder, the current administration, and our British blot on humanity rather than his mating forked videos. I’ve exposed the tiara-gate over and over again, but if people saw a video of Gwyneth Paltrow and Murgle, it was filmed separately and then spliced in later. It’s a Windsor first-hatchet founder message to Tom.

It’s about cutting two humans. He does this in a home cooking kitchen show and in a podcast. The lifestyle brand rift means R.I.P.

You're reaching for credibility through video editor. Also, your charity resignation is filled with major dictionary threats to Tom when the world already knows of your much older father and his demands.

K

This is the married podcast prince, talking about cutting me and Tom. Gwyneth is Pepper Potts in the Iron Man films…

[lavelled]

I see you’ve doctored Reddit like a medieval jester at the royal court. I won’t interrupt your downtime.

It was not lost on me that there was a Twitter hack. Is it efficient to halt production of your own website through a series of valve releases in an inside cyberattack when you’re the productivity master? Wait. Is Twitter full of monks or is it group sex in an unsocial crawlspace? I’m still waiting on that answer.

If the blueprint for the official anatomy code is so benign and is there to fill pages to help a middle-aged girl, then why are the principal authors hidden in library stacks with its CEO?

Taking inspiration from papercuts, there should be slight transparency when typing about middle-aged stuckness and childlessness. I don’t think the reversed flippity death threats to a prince as he continued doing evil things to me and the whole world has karmically worked in our favor for the past 19 years that the Twitter maze has been in effect. Weird how writing a simple sexist haiku doesn’t turn the world harmonically upright again.

You should’ve admitted to your online drivel of being first, Harry, instead of living in deep cover where you only blink out jittery sounds, skirting any responsibility for ruining my life before fading into prominence. Own up to your rapey tech threats. I know how frustrating it is not to live up to your potential.

I wish I could avoid your Sussex marketing — the true and absolute standard of respectability for Meghan’s career in which you try to emotionally derail a movie star in ladylike bloodied prose. The brothel to homemaker reinvention is an insult to a beloved princess’s memory, obviously, and it would be nice if you didn’t advertise your bedtrick spouse and her adventures after you both fooled the globe into thinking you were smitten role models deserving praise when you’re both bums from a mental ward.

I guess the affluent prince is a salesman now.

You’re her pod squad. I read that your regal renting spouse will do mouth-sounds in a true crime podcast. Her new podcast is called, Confessions of the Female Freshman.

No, but close in predatory dreck.

It’s called, Confessions of a Female Founder.

This will be produced by Archewell and Lemonada Media because amplifying Harry’s thimbles of infighting through his wife’s horsemanship, forty years later, is the way to go. It’s not. I’ve got 40 blogs that outline how, as a couple, they are my own personal hell and how they cause tragic deaths because Tom is everybody’s cool movie star dad. Their royal production company was founded on aggressively hostile, profoundly irrational online warring. It’s also about rape, underage partners, ballyhooing, and hucksterism. Archewell staff and Nonwife must support its founder, the man who doesn’t believe in things like maturity, independence, women’s rights or female liberation.

The title is a nod to King Charles. Harry means Finders Keepers. Prince Harry put me in hereditary anklets and the fake wife knew this before she agreed to marry him. She doesn’t get a pass because she’s clung to the hill climbing stage name that begins with an M. I’ve been made to feel like an animalistic raunchy joke in a trap and I’m quite inclined to point out all enablers.

You can’t justify a workload when you know the time loop Harry is stuck in. By his math, the project he churns out will always be in support of life theft and pedophilia. His philosophical watchwords on his compass needle, still to this day, are things like: babes first time, you’ll always remember your first, the word electricity which is Windsor code for voltage, and Guncle.

Only so many backflips an entire society — and I — will do in decade 4.

Henry Mountbatten-Windsor approved of this partnership to do what he always does with Meg’s projects: to put her on a disturbingly laughable feminist throne, for him to rewrite history, to threaten crime-scene conflict, and further clarify that he wants to slice up two humans, every day all day. While I sit here, in a perpetual present, with no choices, no interview subjects, no acting roles, no writing assignments, no lover, no spouse, and no children while my elderly parents continue to think I’m nothing thanks to her husband. The husband that will script her podcasting journalism as Meghan is tethered in Non-Disclosure Agreements.

How many blogs must I write about this? And why?

Harry, your job is to find Murgle jobs because then you get to use her new homemaker persona to ambush newsfeeds. It’s your codex. Your inksmithing, your carton of milk syllabus, your goathood taunts, the small cats! tantrums, the sawgrass scissors, the play out balletically quips, the broken parasols, the French braid human connection — and the lack of it — when strung together, is gibberish noncode that means Tom getting axed. It infiltrates my life, it hurts kids, and none of it rattles Tom.

Thing is, you hide behind the tech intimacy. I think you’ve invested a lot of effort into a kidnapping language that has allowed you to play humanitarian and public speaker in that twisted position of privilege of yours while holding paperwork. But failed to. When you got married. The secret truth is out. First, you were the inconsolable youngest son. Then, you were the party-boy rebel. Then, you were the poster child of do-gooder charity. Lastly, was your attempt to be the biracial simpatico Romeo of California preaching about, of all things, racism.

When have either you or your wife ever experienced racism, job discrimination, age discrimination, historical or modern inequalities or class struggle? Let me take a different approach: Were you on a school lunch program as a child? Have you lived with flatmates? Have you had an unpaid internship? Have you worked freelance and needed free healthcare? Do either of you have medical school debt? Have you lived in a homeless encampment? Did you quit the workforce to take care of an aging parent? Have you looked after a family member with cancer, such as bathing and feeding? Are you currently drowning in costly child care? Ever feel burnout or recover from an addiction? Did you ever skip an international ski holiday, Harry?

Your marriage was made in a nightclub bathroom. Shut the fuck up.

Harry’s company helms the loudest parts of Amazon reviews as I’m sure customers are aware. You can identify the rigid algorithmically curated pages when, for example, you’re searching for a roof rack and Amazon recommends Nerds Rope, the candy. Incidentally, I Want Candy, is a song by a British new wave band that was released in the US when I was just 9. They mention my age in rhyme quite often, not in artificial method, but to possibly prevent the royal members from ever outrunning their warped perversions. The other cutesy thing Harry does on Amazon is outsource and promote reading material from authors he pays to write on subjects, one presumes, to further his decades-old vengefulness. One author has the smushed name of Ethan Reynolds. That would be fictionalized Ethan Hunt and real Deadpool and both would be Tom. This author has three physical identities and three winking bylines: one is African-American, looks like a UFC fighter; another is a white bespectacled Harvard grad; and the third is a silver-haired father of three girls.

The lowbrow material that Big Tech Prince Henry Mountbatten-Windsor pays commission to online shop not only soda stains the genre, it fizzes into our global retail. In his mischievous, dummy mind these 60-page books will somehow offset the Pulitzer or Booker Prize or debut novels that have a tendency to outshine through the plotlines aimed at Tom about a common enemy. His books range from actor Henry Cavill’s girlfriend to Matt Gaetz to Biden and Trump. I’ll show in screengrabs.

Danny Harold Rolling, a sadistic necrophilic, known as the Gainesville Ripper, was a serial killer who murdered five female college students in Florida. This was in August 1990. I was 16. His crimes held a similar grisly pattern: he overpowered his female victims, taped their mouths shut, bound their wrists together behind their backs, tore clothes off with a knife, raped them, stabbed them and sometimes decapitated them and put their heads on a bookshelf. Danny Rolling’s father was a 20-year veteran cop so he was capable of covering his tracks. He eventually did get caught and pleaded guilty. Then-Governor Jeb Bush signed a death warrant for Rolling to be executed on October 25, 2006. The slasher Scream films are based on Danny Harold Rolling’s murderous rampage.

Harry and Nicola Fuller, married for six months, were found murdered in their home. Harry was 45. Nicola was 27. On February 10, 1993, Sussex police in England were summoned to conduct a welfare check at the Wadhurst cottage of the newlyweds. Both were shot dead. A year later, the suspect, English insurance broker Stephen Young, 35, with robbery as his motive, went on trial for these murders. The jurors used a makeshift Ouija Board while staying overnight in a hotel, ultimately leading to a retrial. But he was quickly found guilty a second time. He was given two life sentences.

A blog on the newlywed murders that Prince Henry Mountbatten-Windsor penned and posted just 5 months ago, shortly after I began writing these tumbledown blogs…

This is your radio podcast king. The link:

https://vocal.media/criminal/the-murder-of-harry-and-nicola-fuller-a-case-of-lies-money-and-justice

Marta Bednarczyk, a mother of three, originally from Poland, had moved to the UK. On March 10, 2025, just last week, she was discovered inside her torched home in Wellingborough, Northamptonshire in a suspected arson attack, though it was determined that she died as a result of sharp force injury. Police arrested their suspect who cannot be formally identified because she is a little girl aged 13 who appears in court wearing grey jogging outfits while clutching a teddy bear and, before moving forward, my questions are: what the hell is going on and when will this end?

If you’re a Tesla dealership, your company is allotted a full SWAT team. It guards the vehicles from a coat of paint. What about protecting vulnerable Americans? Trump and his allies have indiscriminately fired the workforce that millions of people rely on for health care, food safety, housing, lifesaving research, disability help and more. Trump’s allies have negatively affected the transgender community, diversity initiatives, veterans, VA doctors and nurses, Park Service, FBI agents, Trump fired the first woman confirmed as the nation’s archivist, he fired Gwynne Wilcox, the first Black woman to serve on the National Labor Relations Board until a judge proved it was illegal, they’ve cancelled over 400 EPA contracts, placed Department of Education employees on administrative leave, dissolved that department and moved the federal student loan portfolio to the Small Business Administration, and before that, scolded President Zelenskyy on ring kissy curtsying with please and thank yous. I’m still embarrassed by that exchange. I get that the President and Vice President are high ranking in the Executive Branch. But they’re public servants. Zelenskyy looks like he sleeps four hours a day, has one lunchtime sandwich atop a collapsible cot, and dresses like he oversees a military command battling overnight airstrikes. These days, he’s not enjoying steak during intermission at the National Symphony Orchestra.

What is it that drives us to participate in a Trump protest or a Tesla Takedown. I’ve read that people have ditched their Tesla cars, most notably: Senator Mark Kelly, actor Jason Bateman, Sheryl Crow, and Cassandra Peterson, (Elvira), who had hers towed away after customizing it with an ELON SUX painted decal on it.

K

Deleted Instagram.

Her new Insta, As Ever website, Confessions podcast are all operated by Prince Harry. Duchess Sparkles cannot read the news, internet, or send work email. She cannot speak freely per royal contracts.

Readers familiar with these blogs will know why I ask: do thirty-something adults repeatedly ink their social media in House of Mouse Disney tropes? Her pumpkin chariot in 2013, before dating...

Before dating, the Tech Prince Charming social flirtations. (This pictured male isn’t Harry.) She who declares herself a Feminist. Gender equality like handcuffs, royal oversight and open-wide allowances…

The dessert plate of a rival’s ex-wife.

But she decided to help Knife Guy... 

Not nice to monetize your in-laws for your ever-regal malice only to make fun of them...

On Mar 10, 2025 , King Charles released his gramophone playlist of 17 artists so listeners could earn school credit. He prefers girls a lot younger. A few inksongs for the daddied family:

Charlie Puth — Mother, or CPM, as nobody says — song and video in link below...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jTMzLbz9_r0

Eagle-Eye Cherry — Save Tonight — I make an exception for the uncouth fruit as it’s his real birth name. I loved this song growing up. I had no idea the Swedish singer graduated from the High School of Performing Arts with Jennifer Aniston, he had a small role in Born on the Fourth of July film, and, lyrically, he's messaging Tom Cruise.

The song and video in link below...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nntd2fgMUYw

And the song 30/90 from the biographical rock musical film, Tick, Tick... Boom sung by Andrew Garfield.

Google it, youtube it, and listen...

CEO Prince Harry approves of the uploading of your underage children; he will siphon photographs of minors from Instagram for Twitter, but hides his own kids’ faces like haunted dolls. This is complete photoshop. Plus, they’ve never lived in Montecito...

You tried to pounce with a Megsy wedding portrait alongside Gwyneth Paltrow while the actress is promoting her new movie where she supposedly has a lot of intimate scenes with Timothée Chalamet, but the rowboat story was repositioned in tabloids once editors realized, yeah, they don’t know each other...

Come Back Be Here, no stay away, you don’t live in this city. Why is Getty taking photographs of an after-hours post office? The Sussex Royals don’t have a home in Montecito, they don’t live together.

Valerie seems versed in sending a hand lettered message to Tom while also confirming that you two don’t live here already...

Fashionably, we’re a long way from the corset. Badge Number 4.

Meghan Markle and Serena Williams are such heartbeat buds that she walks right past Serena’ s then-boyfriend, Alexis K. Ohanian, Reddit founder, not recognizing him at all. No eye contact or polite chatter. Several photos prove this. The Getty photog perfectly times it to capture a young man near Alexis wearing a Canadian maple leaf with V water and advertising letters scrambled to form the words Tom and Reddit and Windsor pedo roots...

A not-Meghan with a diamond handbag, what looks like a wheeled gurney, the lined up news production trucks, a license plate, and a protective man in hatted blue — for engagement announcement…    

Their first royal tour together as a married couple in 2018. They announced their pregnancy a few days beforehand.

Their surroundings: the date that is exactly my birthday, a purely evil bastard, a strategically placed handrail and what usually happens behind the Duchess by heroic feminine subjects.

That same month there were ten youth suicides reported in Australia and New Zealand, which I wrote about in an earlier blog…

In Germany, they take the waxwork exhibition to the next level. Actors cosplayed their paid roles in the royal family, lounging, near a mantle and lit candles...

Their child’s announcement outside of a castle. A bit pompous. The reporter is a Tom Cruise doppelgänger and the camera guy looks like Bill Skarsgard.  A strategically placed microphone boom directed at Harry...

The Oprah Interview. A Tweetathon social-climbing confessional Bingo card. They announced their second baby's gender on-air.

Timing is everything and begets cruelty...

The Windsor Family response to Oprah interview. Photographer captures what looks like a man who can’t stop vomiting over the charley-horse pedo entanglement. A couple of U’s peeping out for the revisionists of reality…

Listing their top-rated, ill-gotten gains as a hollow and manufactured couple in Windsor Family Decade 4…

Misplaced apostrophes. Code for retribution. Code for no affection. Confirming that a royal relationship, public speaking, and a podcast all come with the husband’s muzzle...

The Archewell Foundation.  Archewell Productions.  Lemonada Media.

Her podcast will have a princely censor.

An Oral History...

I was wondering where Prince Harry would splinter off and do his ragebait journaling as I wrote to reclaim a life. He turned to Goodreads.

You know, that online library for your knitting bookclub group.

This is him on September 5th…

I hadn’t realized that his rape memoir was published, rather unimaginatively, on the anagram of my birthday.

A true crackpot…

One of the fictitious Ethan Reynolds, a cover for a ghostwriter. A left-leaning Bishop. Actress Rachel Brosnahan's Aunt committed suicide with her own brand’s scarf days before their royal wedding. Vanessa is British and in the Mission Impossible films. Karoline is the Kennedy name symbolizing Tom. Natalie is Henry Cavill's girlfriend. Matt Gaetz likes them young. This is Prince Harry Mountbatten-Windsor…

I’m glad there are books about girlhood, self-esteem, smashing taboos, clothes, developing, pads, tampons, all of it, anything to make them feel comfortable. But this is you, Harry, isn't it, in your sociopathic hostilities and desire for humiliation—with your creepy King father lurking behind it. Chapters include: The Great Cafeteria Mystery, Mirror Mirror, Digital Drama, and a Bra Guide…

Did the BBC editors know they were hiring a vindictive 24-year-old prince in 2008? Not sure how you could miss it.

His still-published and posted words are: Middle England. Doing batter than expected. Make my dado.

A snippet of a Tom Blog...    

The publication of animal abuse, roasted nuts, and Valentine and heart-shaped mean girl cutting...

Tom, Cinematically. The early 90s. I was still a kid. 16 going on 17. Did you know that in the 90s, Tom did three movies with his then-wife, Nicole Kidman? There is one older actor in each of his 8 movies in the 90s: Robert Duvall. Jack Nicholson. Colm Meaney. Gene Hackman. Stephen Rea. Jon Voight. Sydney Pollack. Philip Baker Hall.

He knew I was still young and that your grandfatherly Dad was a lying perv…

King Charles.

A 3 Musketeens candy…

Prince Harry, award-winning humanitarian, hacked my 2015 account while we chatted online so he could tour the world, fake romance, fuck, and give his daddy heirs. He knew I had nothing substantial in my life, just people on guard against invisible invaders, a sexual typewriter code, and job discrimination. Pretty basic stuff. A lot of girls have this happen to them. Looks like TV Jack Reacher...

Harry has more recently been posting President Obama and SEAL Team Six memes…

I recognized the oversupply of the word petty. Celebs use it in interviews and I was always struck by the word. Not to get all petty or whatever, they would say. Peevish? Close. Peckish? British. Ah, Tom Petty…

It would take getting away from the manipulative con game Harry played and go back and study films with long words and heart, while people social distanced, to realize that Tom was protecting me from his pimped out, much older father and his demands.

These 44 haiku blogs, after 40 years, as proof, only mean something if important people do something. In truth, there is no excuse to have not stopped this after 9/11.

[lavelled]

Netflix: a reputable entertainment service that offers programming from a paid nonwife who sucks off Murderers' Row.

Meghan Markle. Interesting that her infotaining media content full of lies got renewed. Throughout the week, her near-rape cyberbullying sociopathic husband borrowed the name of Pamela Anderson to help promote his wife’s show. Anderson, a long-time animal rights activist, a natural beauty of bohemia and a plant-based cook, who is getting the career resurgence that she deserves, has been swept up in Harry’s sick puppy telecommunications Netflix advertising. The same week, a different actress named Pam from Baywatch, violently commits suicide.

It cannot be emphasized enough how your paid gourmet foodie in a nursing apron, standing in a rented house talking about beekeeping or trapped ejaculation in your sheer hilarity code, in a city where you’ve never lived together with her nannies, and uneasy female associates, and her rape preserves, whilst you’re in line to the throne holding cruel paperwork, when I put it like that, is fucking pathetic.

They renewed it, not because it found an audience, it didn’t, but because even in death kids get bullied by you. Including their Netflix family of actors.

Meghan is a nanny-helped mother of two little ones that she shares with the 9/11 architect. She’s plate-spinning work and parenting as a single mother with a forfeited career, funded by British taxpayers and pornographic websites like Twitter, royally prohibited from freedom of speech and technology, including her Clueless As Ever website, because of her grammarian husband and pedophile rapist kingly father-in-law and that pretty much sums up every working parent’s experience.

To be a willing accessory to the ongoing cyborg harassment of Tom and I, she’s tethered in vocal-chord nondisclosure agreements, and this allows you to call her Maggot in print. Gushing. Pink and purple seams. Thank you for all of it. Less Cinderella slipper and more glass splinter. We get that you hate each other. The hate shouldn’t be for fun and profit.

You log in to Twitter—anywhere on the Internet—and it’s something obscene. On Computer Land, the ocular pattern is profanities and algebraic symbols from vendors fetishizing sex with a seventeen year old. Prince Harry and his employees are overwhelmingly sexual on the Internet, where it’s supposedly warm and wet inside. It seeps into real life. To the detriment of my family and others. Twitter is lewd, explicit conversation or tongue work between underage sex spray and taunting bloody revenge. You know, life-giving and a turn on. None of it seems written with authority and we want proof that you guys know what you’re doing. Do you have it? Sex? I don’t mean sex dolls or inflatable boats. I mean relations with a Sex Person. Other than Elon Musk, do Twitter employees have real sex? I'm guessing the courtly attitudes toward a business relationship and your CEO cum-work has caused Team Megs (enamored by regalia but not virtue) to confess what you write about her and she has pushed you away, slightly, romantically, aww, helped on by the fact that her counterfeit PayPal long-distance marriage was always the knife husband whispering into her ear that he wants to fuck a tween.

So. Do you have sex with someone, Harry?

Are you loved?

Or are the snippets, erotic words, inscriptions, etched illustrations, the carved skulls, the cracks, the nail marks across the internet just tricks of the brain? I have a feeling the dukedom writer, mistreated his entire privileged life, became a publisher in accordance with his company’s rape numbers and trauma plan — by no means covertly — so he could hiss his way through thousands of websites to admit that he’s chaste and alone. People always knew it.

I read that your daughter had a family playdate with tennis royalty, Serena Williams. That’s nice. I bet not one day goes by that Serena, the US Open, French Open, Australian Open, Grand Slam champion and Olympic gold medalist, isn’t hitting drop shots to Ms. Murkle.

You don’t need me to point out how you’re appearing insincere in your hunt to make A-listers, preferably African-American, your child’s godparents. Is Sidney Poitier her grandfather? Is Duke Ellington Meghan’s real Dad? You request human beings to be seated like a trophy, to push your coldblooded narrative. This strategy won’t work. Why? Namely, Alexis K. Ohanian. The technological entrepreneur, founder of Reddit, and husband to Serena Williams, in no particular order. Since truth is a delicate thing, I’ll shorthand it: You’re an asshole to use what I’m sure is a casual acquaintance to send a message to Tom through a pap walk lunch when you know damn well that it would upset Alexis.

Aaron Swartz, a computer programmer, digital rights champion and activist, was Alexis’s friend and Reddit’s other founder. He was arrested by MIT campus police on January 6, 2011 for breaking and entering with intent to commit a felony, supposedly secretly downloading one article after another from JSTOR’s subscription database, a digital library of academic journals which can cost upwards of $200 per year. He wanted free and open access to information.

He was aggressively prosecuted when he tried to liberate data. The federal criminal probe for his alleged crime carried a sentence of 35 years and millions of dollars in fines. Aaron killed himself by hanging on January 11, 2013 at the age of 26.

There is eleven minutes of CCTV footage on the Wired magazine website should you wish to google, which shows a young man entering an unlocked wiring closet, that looks like a freight elevator, carrying a hanging bike helmet and backpack. Prosecutors had an unprofessional, silent, tediously paced video of a young man dipping in and out of frame with a cardboard box that may or may not contain a hard drive. No laptop. No activity. Furthermore, two universities on the JSTOR library collection list is mine and American University, my sister’s second alma mater, and MIT is code for Tom, so I get the impression that Aaron was also sending a message to Tom sans rule-breaking, considering he was not an MIT student or professor.

JSTOR reminds me of Th3J35T3R on Twitter, the Mr. Bean of American vigilante hackers. The hint was your can’t-be-bothered Wiki picture, grabbed from a V for Vendetta photo gallery. Subtle. The other hint was that when we talked, you’d sign off: May you continue to Tango Down and Stay Frosty. Think back. That’s how you finalized a blog post or conversation. The International Spy Museum in D.C. displays your laptop that has your signature on the keyboard, underlined. A courtly Jester. Didn’t your secret get outed by the tv show, Mr. Robot, where Rami Malek plays Tom in a film noir way, exposing your jerking-off pedo contract inheritance and truth-telling your fake hugging and mugging anti-megacorporation stance when you’re the bigtime CEO?

You. A hacktivist. You soft-served my teenhood and cyberly hacked my adult uterus.

You’re also responsible for the blood and bone of cyberterrorism, producing barely clothed sexual material online, writing casual sextortion like you're a good little predator, the school shootings, the murder-suicides in suburbia, teen suicides, gender-based crimes, gun violence, cyberbullying, cybertaunting an actor and a middle-aged girl and the mere fact that someone would marry you, have your children, be a willing collaborator, conduct business dealings with you or hire you for tech speeches and make the same mistakes all over again, but on a different coast, is draw your own conclusions. Oh how he must make grandiose churchified donations for speeches and interviews and we suffer for it…

Pamela Bach-Hasselhoff, 62, model and actress from such shows as Baywatch and Sirens was found deceased from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head at her home in Los Angeles on March 5, 2025. She was previously married to actor David Hasselhoff.

Jeffrey Lance Baena, 47, NYU grad and screenwriter and director of such laudable films as I Heart Huckabees and Life After Beth which starred his real-life wife, actress Aubrey Plaza. Jeff and his movies often appeared at the Sundance Film Festival. He committed suicide by hanging on January 3, 2025 at his home in Los Angeles.

Payton Emily Raulerson, 13, of Okaloosa County, Florida, a member of the Robotics Club, committed suicide this past December. She left a note saying she was being bullied by a boy who told her to kill herself and she just wanted peace. 13.

Bob Bryar, 44, drummer for the band My Chemical Romance, passed away in November. No foul play was determined. His body was badly decomposed and large nitrous oxide canisters were found next to his body. Bryar was reportedly last seen alive on November 4, which was the date of his last tweet on his official Twitter page, written by fellow ginger, Prince Harry.

Jessica Cronshaw, a pregnant 26-year-old from the UK, killed herself as, now, details of her suffering emerge. Her daughter, Elsie, was delivered via C-section but died four days later. This medley of suicides was brought to you by a Lifetime of Placating Henry Mountbatten-Windsor. I turn your attention to the People Magazine article on Jess Cronshaw that ignited a firestorm of comments by Harry, who was none too pleased with People Magazine's editorial decision to include a photo of Princess Kate Middleton. Not for gallant reasons. He cannot believe that his family of ethical failings, in decade 4, might actually be associated with human suffering. People Magazine and their writers seem content to incur his wrath and I gotta say, once more, damn this magazine is badass. On the first day the article went live, last week, Harry penned 249 comments through his blowhole.

Read this, a link below, and please peruse the comment section:

https://people.com/pregnant-woman-dies-by-suicide-after-extreme-pregnancy-sickness-11689632

I was disappointed that the actresses Shannen Doherty and Michelle Trachtenberg along with the French film legend, Alain Delon, were all omitted from the Oscars In Memoriam segment. These performers weren’t limited to television as Shannen, for one, was in two Americana cult movies, Heathers and Mallrats.

K

Her Deleted Instagram.

Her new Instagram is solely operated by Prince Harry. Duchess Sparkles cannot read the news, write, send email, touch digital devices or the internet and she can’t speak freely per royal contracts.

In 2013, she prophetically boggled how she’d let a sociopath have a complete monopoly over her and her children:

Way before dating or the royal wedding, she would travelogue her London hopscotch in a princessy way. She’s flirting with the guilty tech prince at this point.

Harry deleted her Instagram only to upload this one to Twitter to be a cyberspace bitch-boy:

Reproducing lies during the Oprah interview. Dirt-poor and poverty-stricken under palm trees amid international trips and acting roles at age 20 — it’s a wonder she survived:   

Rental uterus and an OJ reference.

Quite the regal legacy:

The mother looks single light femaling here, with your face swapping or overlap technique. You're a blissfully cohesive family, remember:

Nude clothing from their African trip, with sexual reference:

Harking back to teenhood and POLO, he’s talking about riding trash:

When they’re not being rewarded for male entitlement, they get Netflix deals through their lying, sellout Archewell Productions:

Archewell Productions, empty fluff. Your words. To think there are worthy, struggling grad students right now getting rejected for roles, but we get content from their Bonnie Clydesdale Company:  

Duchess was a speaker at the 2024 South by Southwest Conference in Austin, Texas to talk about women in the media and the "endless toxicity" online when she is prohibited from reading news or using technology; she was never confronted by aggressive language. Her husband, the CEO, posts cruel, violent, and offensive ideology:

per example:

Aaron Swartz, co-founder of Reddit. Prince Harry is serenely revising the truth about Aaron’s suicide:

Aaron Swartz did what he did and named his website Reddit for a reason; don’t hurt yourselves:

Bob Bryar, drummer for My Chemical Romance, passed away this November. This was the last tweet he saw, scribed by Prince Harry. Don't hurt yourselves or others. A link to their music video is below:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RRKJiM9Njr8

Harry does not like this video, Welcome To The Black Parade, where New Jersey band MCR cast Lukas Haas, lifelong Leonardo friend and talented actor in his own right…

You’re not a hacktivist for good.

International Spy Museum’ s Executive Director, Christopher P. Costa: The laptop that rests in an exhibition, personally signed by The Jester, is Prince Harry, which you know, because you’re a real gumshoe in counterintelligence in the Department of Defense. I’m aware of the reverse flipper. But his hacktastic plebeian rants on a keyboard cause pain. I don’t think that’s museum worthy...

Prince of tech. The orange specks and phone-cord noose on an old tv from your future King:

Princess Charlotte is used for Harry’s crowning vengeance, he admits to little girl buckling:

Some tweets are more sludge-filled than others. I’ve been meaning to post a Getty Image of Tom with his wife, Mimi Rogers. It seemed intrusive. Did you know that all of his female co-stars in the 80s are older than him? Shelley Long. Lea Thompson. Rebecca De Mornay. Kelly McGillis. His former wife, Mimi, is seven years older than him.

To me, it says he knew I was too young and your dad was a geriatric thug:

King Charles is a Redrum pedophile:

5 days before the royal wedding he scribes dazzling verse on blood, girl cutting, and Nathan:

Family trip to Klosters ski resort in Switzerland, a shrimp wearing a threatening head-wound bandana one year before the car chase:

I Wish You Would turn around so we could chit chat… 2006 photo exhibit with an enemy name, and a younger Cruiser nearby:

Prince Harry writing on the BBC blog forum in 2012 from his castle, as you do. He was caught naked in front of cameras in Vegas, with only a wristwatch on, because he planned it that way. The escapades were for Tom and, here, he makes two Johnny Depp references with Fleet Street (Demon Barber film) and his ex-wife, Vanessa Paradis.

as if we're all reading the bbc blog forum. in 2012. you sociopath.

Harry’s father had been remarried for seven years when he blogged this.

The tradition is to remind everyone that it was always going to be a Megan. Didn’t matter which one. What matters to him, he would say, is a body part and vengeance...

Getty Images. THE Getty Images. The world famous photo provider.

You’ll notice things. This was in 2016 when they were only dating…

I recognized the Sicilian, who is Tom. Old username with date.

I was gently misled into believing it was Tom who was the bad guy, which was easy to do being detached from society and reliant on a computer and Hollywood for full sentences and kinship...

It must be stressful to know everyone has an overabundance of hate for you, Harry, and that includes colleagues forced into using the alphabet blocks of vivid fantasy. I have a feeling everyone is awaiting a denouement that your daddy and vikings won't be able to rewrite.

[lavelled]

Cordoned off by yellow tape, The Duke is directing his pacific coast bride in iPhone videography while he lives permanently in England. I’m tortured by Megxit news and her utter inability to read it.

Showing the world that you two don’t live together in California through self-made videos tramping on grass where you’re nowhere to be seen is what people not gathering around your Instagram would call stupid. Unless knee-padded Meg is promoting her new book explaining why she produced babies with the Sandy Hook facilitator, we’re not interested.

I wonder if household and PR staff has downsized.

I think palace aides have an interest in an English literature major so they’ve read a particular breed of Bonnie & Clyde boxlike crime coupling, faking both victimhood and regal freedom, who defrauded the general public. They detected a lack of common decency in your romantic handcuffs on your way to global recognition. By striking at the heart with wedlock and reproductive quid pro quo, you both continue to inspire homicide, suicide, stabbings, school campus violence, hospital shootings, bridge leaping, and California wildfires that made royal staffers leave you both in the lurch, perhaps.

Who the hell would work for you guys?

That’s why you opened an insufferable Instagram account in her name that she’s contractually forbidden to operate — to fill the void of your scripted interviews on matrimony fiction, fake brotherly rifts, UN speeches, charity functions, feminist labels, award ceremonies, waxwork unveiling, global royal tourism, Netflix docuseries, Oprah, motion picture deals, red carpet appearances, home recording audio podcasts, DealBook Summits, the Upfront Tech Summit in Los Angeles even though he’s a Digital Assassin, memoirs, children’s books, a NYTimes Op-Ed column on her experience of a miscarriage, live stage performances, Meghan, the musical!, stadium concerts, and on-camera laughs that you two aren’t being offered as frequently these days.

Real Windsor events while my life remained inactive, tallied up university degrees for nothing, received job discrimination in every genre, watched relatives believe I was unsuccessful and tragically loveless and, offline, have been gifted noise and sounds from people acting like they’re abused extras on a spy film set.

Surely, I did something infinitely evil in a past life.

Megs & Harry do this thing where they get noble deals that conveniently gloss over the swath of terrorism paperwork that he philanthropically inherited because Prince Harry bullying kids on-grid to their deaths has always been rewarded with artistic giggles, celebrity caricatures, movie and television deals and tech speeches. One gets the feeling that with Instamarkle, the man-child with the royally blistered fingers and bleeding pens, realizes the prestige is slowing the fuck down.

You’re devoting your career to grasping at regal relevance through a fan base of interactive media that you solely control and maintain because your public photo-ops have been limited to children who haven’t yet learned the Windsor truth, but because you’re so desperate for retribution and have only a celebrity-adjacent helpmate known for The CW Network fellatio, you’re twisting your nonwife’s social media into a depreciating QVC page by injecting it with two million fraudulent accounts while simultaneously inking HowCum tweets, the only play you have, that highlights how much of a sustained burden on society you and your family have been.

You’ve rebranded your cookware bakeware skincare biscuits mega business, spanning knives and napkins, and are uploading deleted Instagram posts of hers, confirming that you have a cyber and real-world monopoly over your wife and children. There is a good chance that procreating with the catalog order bride with the Nutella Jar, you haven’t embodied any lasting legacy of feminism.

I want to take a moment to tell you that you’re losing sight of the big picture.

Now, back to the publishing house of Henry Windsor.

You alone are spinning her lifestyle brand into a fungal infection of trademark battles. You rebranded it to As Ever. All I hear is the iconic slang from the film, Clueless. Ugh, as if! I was in college when Clueless was released, so your wife’s vanity project of plum jam and digestive juices does accomplish something: captures your family pedophilia and decades-old proxy demands. I must, because you’re displaying such idiocy, stress that the praetorian salvation you think exists for yourself doesn’t, and it’s clocking down, but in the final pages of life as a prince, you might as well talk about an infotainment actress’ blouse company.

Should you dwell on your choice of eliminating all my life choices in your trademark nutty way and realize that getting married at 33 not to a love partner but a cohort who sucks the air out of the room and is an insult to your mother’s memory, you’ll begin to piece together how you’ll be remembered.

As you’re preoccupied with Nazi scribbling and Titanic on VHS, I’ve compiled more news stories that bookend your family reporting. Legit headlines near Markle-Windsor news: OnlyFans, baby bump, baymouth, saxophonist, sex kiss scenes, ventriloquism, home-ruled, horse’s mouth, horse show, horse crazy, rocking horse, hobbled horse, fuck shit up ride a horse, OnlyFans, tripe stew, bites back, pitter-patter, puke red, pedo arcade, and OnlyFans.

That’s unfortunate. Keep your head up.

I was wondering why the ticking views on prose and YouTube videos were distributed unevenly. In his cosy technological toilet cubicle, Prince Harry inks personal numerology in viewership: 1.7K views, 7.1K views, 17.1K views, 2.3 million views, 2.7 million views, No Views, and 1 Like. That’s Prince Harry and his employees, butterflies everywhere, sprinkling quantitative birthday balloons across several platforms, infiltrating my life and burdening cyber users to death. In case you missed it, the Windsor Family babble code causes your children not to go Ooh and Ahh but instead incites them to commit violence and suicide in the external world…

Actress Kim Sae-ron, 24, is one recent suicidal victim. I write more on her emotional and heartbreaking passing via screengrabs.

NY Firefighter Thomas Dunn, 52, who survived 9/11 and trauma from the attack had moved to Navarre, Florida where he killed himself on February 1, 2025.

Edvard Stockings shot his wife outside The Three Horseshoes pub on Valentine’s Day this year and then jumped to his death from the Queen Elizabeth II Bridge.

An unidentified suicidal 29-year-old man died when he jumped off the Zilwaukee Bridge in Michigan on January 25th of this year.

Prince Harry Mountbatten-Windsor, a culture vulture, writes in a less than flattering light this daily newsfeed of an actress he paid to puppet mouth maternity teagown harass Tom and I — link below:

https://www.reddit.com/r/SaintMeghanMarkle/

Prince Harry Mountbatten-Windsor customized this, among others, of Tom — link below:

https://www.reddit.com/r/funny/comments/jt3lkf/tom_cruise_without_teeth/

Trump administration’s Tom Homan said: “I’m coming to Boston. I’m bringing hell with me. Get the hell out of the way.” For one, it’s cold. There's been polar ice. Mayor Marty Walsh signed the Boston Trust Act in 2014, prohibiting Boston police from detaining anyone based on their immigration status, unless they have a criminal warrant. In 2017, the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court ruled in the case of Lunn v. Commonwealth that Massachusetts law does not authorize the arrest and hold of someone based on an ICE detainer. Then, on December 19, 2019, Mayor Walsh signed an updated Boston Trust Act, making clear the role of BPD personnel and officers, heroes in matters of prioritizing public safety, but whom are not encouraged to ask about immigration status nor arrest an individual based on their status. Aren’t Trump loyalists too busy demanding a freeze on all US foreign aid for starving children, selling gold card visas when your voters are struggling with bills, limiting Associated Press access because they won’t go along with a Republican-endorsed gulf stream, outlawing papery straws and telling federal employees they don’t deserve their paychecks?

I’m allowing myself to assume the shuffling of Joy Reid at MSNBC, a news segment of torch relay in intelligence and high energy, is merely your serviceable coded message to Tom Crusade. Her MSNBC absence couldn’t possibly be permanent.

Michelle Trachtenberg was a talented actress from the underrated film, 17 Again, who, from the title, I’m confident knew all about Harry & the Windsors and a woman now 52.

K

Meg's BLOG that she agreed to delete because fucking the Prince of Paperwork whom she wrote about for years was too romantically enticing. This is a ginormous drink recipe:

Her new Instagram is solely operated by Prince Harry. Duchess Sparkles cannot read, write, internet or speak freely per royal contract. Deleted Instagram...

I find it untoward and uncouth for a woman to keep using the underage fruit emoji, but I haven't sexed a monied sociopath:

A novel by Kazuo Ishiguro that was made into a British film starring Carey Mulligan, Andrew Garfield and Keira Knightley for no reason whatsoever:

I’ve seen videos where people of all ages are, safely, burning his rape memoir: 

Parental regal legacy intact:

Prince Harry wrote this 5 days after his royal wedding:

Prince Harry wrote this 5 days before his royal wedding:

Prince Harry wrote this the morning of his royal wedding. 1K...

You posted to Bob Dylan’s Instagram yesterday where the punchline to MGK and Tom Cruise is that the singer is skillful in articulating the poetry of rap. Quite the burn. This tweet was written one month after MGK released Bloody Valentine video which Harry took exception to — link — https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wSdT-SArM2Q:

Oprah interview of lies that he’s still lamenting in 2025. Incidentally, famous people should hire Catherine Olazabal for on-set craft services as she’s a real person:

Kennedy Awards. I don’t begrudge those involved in the evening. Yet why? They sit there, betwixt a real family descendant, receiving an award they don’t necessarily deserve while riffing on date night like two giggly lecturers seeking laughter from a crowd — watch this, a link — https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MbnfARCL4ro:

Have I mentioned that he hacked me for the second time? He's mad, relinquishing any ability to control Twitter theme color but I had already gathered most screengrabs in autonomy. His entire identity is threats with milk-white purity contract noncode that sometimes contain the n-word. And she bedded him for payment:

Prince Harry writes in teenage misdeeds through his social-technological structure, cyberbullying children, of all ages, online. Duchess is sealed in NDA and royal contracts that forbid her from reading, writing, posting, scrolling, and interneting:

Kim Sae-ron, 24, a South Korean actress, starred in the 2023 Netflix action-drama series, Bloodhounds, was a former child star who killed herself on February 16, 2025.

Days leading up to her death she talked about the undesirable online comments directed her way. This one makes it seem like her leashing prevents a middle-aged woman from personal and professional advancement. See also: Choi Jin-ri, Goo Hara, and Kim Jong-hyun...

Regal legacy intact:

The ravings of lunatics. 1 Like. In case you thought Uncle Harry felt guilty, he wrote this shit last month. Wills, future King of England and BAFTA President 2025 award ceremony no-show, must approve:

The Bob Marley movie premiere. I Know Places where a rapist sociopath is exiled:

Getty Imagery on the Prince’s 2009 official engagement abroad; a NYC trip where he played rapey Polo, number 1, with a stop at Ground Zero, meeting firefighters who must’ve had heroic restraint:

Invictus Germany Sports Festival in 2023 for the Invictus Games.

You’ll notice things: This is the most renowned visual media company in the world; it’s a half-naked exam by Getty; there is scant royal protocol; and there is a Kate Middleton lookalike clearly in the background...

From the old layout as timestamp and username confirms. I recognized the orange jumpsuit that is always in Harry’s cultural center, promising monomaniacal revenge — way before a chase. People have eyes on Tom and everyone is imagining a better world:

Gene Hackman was one of the greatest actors of anyone's generation and I remember him most from The Birdcage, where he played Senator Kevin Keeley.

[lavelled]

Prince Henry Mountbatten-Windsor is not really doing a passable imitation of nobility on his twitter playstation website in creating heated internet fights. He’s still aboard his manic homophobic transphobic slur train. From Marlon Wayans to Kanye West. Any NAACP Poet Laureate Award for Megsy and Harley this week? No? That’s unfortunate.

I read Invictus Games news on the slightly unwelcome, noble veneered, woodchuck couple being in Canada. The totally married, pantomime, babymaking, horseshoe, horseshit, horse-drawn, whatever couple. I’m sorry Canada. Talented musical artists, at least.

The loved-up dodobirds haven’t been too socially active. To not be photographed huddled together for months, to never be shown pushing double strollers, to be exposed like a coat of rodent paint in Netflix fraud and photoshopped holiday cards — only to climb the social ladder right into a shallow puddle of mediocrity.

Après-ski parkas and wardrobe were mentioned on our of high-society characters. Oh goody. Let’s talk superficial glamour on a walking maternity dress as the paperwork husband talks a deep sense of girl ownership, rape, and patrimony. Typical alpine bucolic fairytale.

I like the athlete who asked you, “Where’s your crown?”

Duke and Duchess drew on their high birth and clout to return to a Canadian V-restaurant during the Invictus Games. They share an all too common vocabulary. One of dignity and refinement between a woman who photographed knives and the man she knew was the September 11 jailer. Then, you, an actual Prince, lending your decorum and sensitivities, highlighted your side job as social media manager of a deal or no deal wellness blogger, plastering 2 million fake accounts to her Instagram page that she will probably never be liberated enough in which to gain access to, and, deep inside, you know nobody gives a shit about; not about the photos, the videos, the clothes, the one-sided lordly comments, or the Tom-inspired coupledom that has lost all its meaning. You videobombing your illiterate Zee-list wage earner windowsill nonwife whom you don’t live with on an Instagram account you alone control in between growling and belching Nazi ideology does little to ensure an esteemed family line.

Must be entertaining for you, though.

In the press, the place where I’m inclined to find writerly solace, contentment, murmurs, even guttural hints — and I read everything from People Magazine to Politico — there is a pattern to your nonwife’s funniest news. You know, that stuff about biological kids that I don’t have. Either above or below her photo, with or without you, is the sequence of news stories about dog breeders, brain surgery, bedbugs, a woman born with two vaginas, scores, chores, stores, bath, Bath, bathed-in, swallowed by a humpback whale, oral hygiene, furred cats, depraved couple, and nouveau decorative arts. Double meaning, but also vital to my own existence and I love it.

Is that the legacy you intended for your family?

Your typewriting is urinating the admission that yeah you’re fake married to get back at a movie star whom you refer to as pomodoro. I haven’t pointed out much that you didn’t author yourself in a fuck-it casual voice. Online, in the world of chatty billboards, you studiously ink out the lack of intimacy, the mutual hatred, the rented uterus, so, pray tell, why did I have to be alone for roughly these twenty years with nothing and nobody but a competing unhelpful society of tiered noncode while you talked about hacking me and then actually hacked me, on one flash drive, on one account, only to prolong my misery at 52 when you’d end up a single estranged father in England anyway.

To you, I’d tippity tap tap that I was in a distorting telescope of time-hell and you let me fester in a life that didn’t move forward, or at all.

Why are you fluently vowing retribution when you infringed? If there aren’t repercussions for the guilty party, then why the hell didn’t you allude to the unlawfulness ten years ago so I’d have a chance, being that fertility has an age? The emotional balance of what happened four decades ago is just old-fashioned scholarly cruelty that you could’ve stopped after national disasters or natural aging that right now is only germane to a contractual street fight. What a life.

Stooping to the lowest depths as mascot in the Twitter laboratory was your racist meltdown on Kanye’s page that only affirmed the obvious: you’re a whimpering bookstore fiend spoiled enabled placated brat at 40, left alone at your cybernetics household operations, with what, I’m guessing, is a network of disheartened plodding employees, working remotely, manipulating the view and subscriber count, where you meddle in American politics, lawfare, sports, the arts, and the country’s social upheaval. To showcase proxies. To get back at an actor. Who had the handwritten letters way before you.

Human culture can exist without the self-serving internet mousetrap meltdowns. It’s him. It’s Harry. It’s always Harry.

There is so much misinformation, inconsistent messaging, enemy noncode interference in political actions right now that it’s Red, White, Blue Land of what the fuck.

I read that Trump and Company want to deputize IRS agents to go through financial documents that could be used to locate the whereabouts of undocumented immigrants and potentially help in arrests of those who are, most likely, guilty of non-violent offenses like theft or shoplifting. Why not give authentic Sheriff badges to Eagle scouts.

The team seems bristly perturbed that I wrote of the cities and states of certain raids. What to do. It depends. I could end this blog right now or not feel imitated by the underqualified saboteurs hellbent on renaming geography, upending Greenlandic society, eliminating pennies, firing independent nonpartisan Fincrime watchdog groups, dismantling USAID, giving governmental and payment access to unelected interlopers, ending travel funds for service members seeking reproductive care, suggesting judiciary impeachment for contrarian beliefs, strongly advising federal buyout offers, blocking the Associated Press, solidifying a takeover of the Kennedy Center and the Opera House and their ongoing phasing out of the Department of Education.

There are national anti-Trump-Musk rallies on snowy corners, town halls and Zoom calls with ACLU members, clergy members, Dem lawmakers, state representatives, constituents, students, children and dogs — all with clever signage. I think people wanted less government waste and spending and immigration reform, but a flurry of executive orders for current-day America is illegal and corrupt. Claw back with lawsuits.

When it’s about the war in Ukraine or Gaza and Israel, Trump and Team spout doomsday prophecies. I think fear-mongering politicians should stay out of the agreement that allows the continued releasing of hostages, according to the terms of the ceasefire. Which seems to be working.

There might be a large-scale California ICE raid. From LA to farming communities. Government officials want more bodies. I shouldn’t mention that people worried of deportation should check the website, CalMatters dot org, a highly readable website with a bilingual option, every day for information. Interesting that California was made a statewide sanctuary on October 5, 2017.

I also find it interesting that the California wildfires began burning on January 7 in the Palisades, which sounds phonetically like palace aides.

K

Deleted Instagram.

Her new Insta page is solely operated by Prince Harry.

Duchess Sparkles cannot read, write, internet, or speak freely per royal contract. This is her referencing Cinderella, knowing whom braided a young girl. Harry re-uploaded it in Danish to translate to:  I agree with that...

The dumbfounded TIG blog about Jamaica trip; red rape beer, sea creature cruises, tree chopping:

Bereft, middle-fingered, whiskered Teen Harry with a Joan Joker movie poster and eunuch skeleton:

Parental regal legacy intact:

Spotify podcast was a lying wunderkind platform in which to harass a middle-aged girl and her pen pal that earned Meghan awards and a recent distinction:

Netflix Cooking Show will consist of the Windsor fraud and clichéd clicking formula for profit:

What looks like a paler hue of the humanitarian role models courtesy of Harry; they don’t live together in California:

Family images that trended on a website the husband solely controls and talked to me on, while he knew I had absolutely nothing:

It might be code for sucky fucky or I'm trying to be a regal role model:

On her knees for children.

Also, did you read about this Scottish actor's horrific nightmare over the weekend: https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/ce3lq3lkkn5o

I don't get this M3GAN film back-and-forth, though one-sided, feud. Smart tactic illustrating what your Windsor family did decades ago:

Good on you for deleting a few pedo Charlotte tweets, missed one:

Kanye didn’t write any of these:

After forty years, Harry’s taking the Nathan & Celica convos as well as you’d expect:

It Hits Different when he admits wrongdoing:

Google what actor Marlon Wayans has unconditionally, supportively said about his son; Harry wrote this tweet only a few days ago:

Written near the Duke & Duchess 2018 wedding; have I mentioned that Soulja Boy’s name is DeAndre:

From the old Twitter layout, I recognized his Nazi shoutout and his staged tabloid photo — with an emphasis on misinterpretation, quietly making me believe, for years, that Tom had sequestered.

Prince Harry holds stage business paperwork that has caused harm:

[lavelled]

I don’t think the world needs airline collisions because a prince once honored as a humanitarian has revealed himself to hold muzzle-able entwined sexual predator paperwork. He’s a royal glob of crap who achieved his ambitions through academic terrorism. He is a dickface inkpad of tight-throated revisionist history with a good deal of condescension and even racism. I get it. He is the prime example of how not to raise your sons, and to a large extent that goes for William, too, but he’s barely noticed and hardly makes dents in his repertoire of royal press since he’s one half of Leopold and Loeb and his wife Kate, as far as England is concerned, is the real star. I don’t think aeronautical disasters are the answer. This is tragic. It’s not clear Henry was the sole reason. But everyone hates the criminally immature royal Brit.

You’re asking a lot from an unemployed writer-actress who’s really good at softball.

I think there was some confusion about loquacious pills and a life of prostitution in literature. The only reason I might be considered a medical cure is if people regarded me an unaffected teen or extremely young woman. Not sure why a weekly blog about rape, a savage king, and an unlived existence is something that brings peace, comfort, and excitement. It shouldn’t. If you feel the isolation of cars, careers, jobs, houses, spouses, children, pets and colleagues, a highly convincing prism of inhumanity, then I suggest you take your litany of complaints up with the craftsmen who produced the silent, invisible, celebrity contract decades ago.

When the quality of my everyday life improves and I see nothing but sunshine and goodness and the people I’ve liked my whole life—that’s when I’ll give back on a regular basis.

Prince Harry, slouched in his niche, his usual grumpy firsthand fast-paced pedometer of firsties and lingo, blather, garble bullshit that I recommend noncelebrities cease using, is affixing the hashtag or pound symbol to YouTube videos of actors, athletes and mathletes he wants to fight. He seems ready for a skirmish as he talks, from nowhere, about his mum. Prince Harry’s infinite range of sound is mommy issues and a daddy complex that he, as social media CEO, typically uses like a walking stick of well-worn coziness. So glad he goes unchecked and unmonitored. He is currently weaponizing gender and sexuality in print because of our corduroy football geisha ballgame tweet conversations.

If you’ve noticed, he’s uploading videos and labelling them: New Content. Sapphire. Poisoned. Pointing meme. Unstoppable. Navy News. It glows on you. Don’t be weary to open an online account. Take it from me. He’s a riderless has-been jutting out from a ledge. Duchess Stirrup Sparkles was photographed at a celebrity birthday party as if all is well with the crumbly drama of murder-suicide during a fictitious 8-year reign. Her team seems desperate to legitimize her. It will, whatchamacallit, what’s the word, never fucking happen. Her latest press on partying with Ms. Washington and Ms. Rowland lacks a certain logic. It’s a whole bunch of lies, they’re not best buds.

You’re going after Leonardo’s past co-stars. More on that later. A quasi-wife rubbing her knees without the ability to read, internet, or speak freely, who duped the world and made a habit of boinking the September 11 jailer and is given a salary in perpetuity based on her private quarters, will never have a conventional socialite career. What your exploits do offer is that you bought a bride from the backstreets of a casting search at the elderly age of 33, for regal blood heirs and your daddy, while you turned my life choices into dawdling impracticalities, and that, with your petals of anger, will be your noblesse legacy.

I read that undocumented yet arrested immigrants of nonviolent crimes without due process may be detained at the military base in Guantánamo Bay, an enclave known for torture, human rights abuses and scarce international law. To fill 30,000 beds. Sounds like mumbo jumbo code, not a pledge. Filming unscheduled raids in NYC, Chicago, Arizona, New Mexico and Del Rio, Texas in womenswear apparel and same-day hair blowouts. Border tough.

Devastating crashes, families torn apart, countries bracing for steep tariffs that are expected to cause inflation and presidential golfing and Americans feel like we’ve seen this movie before and I thought this stuff needed congressional approval. I read that American-made products, including the export of oil from Canada will suffer which, I thought, for GOP allies, the oil, gas and coal industry was something they supported. So, gas prices and food prices will rise under the current administration. Got it. Then, overnight, Trump agreed to a 30-day pause on his tariff threats against Mexico and Canada. China should be granted the same delay, given that many kids, parents and grandparents rely on affordable pharmaceutical medicine.

How is it that the men involved in the release of hostages during a ceasefire are the only ones making good on a promise?

Please stop hurting yourselves and innocent people on all transport everywhere and leave the sky dramatizing for Tom Crusade and his professional fight club.

K

Her Deleted Insta.

The Royal Office. One year before she’d date him:

Upon a beached little girl:

She’s confused as to why Princess Elsa isn’t sexing Prince Zamboni at center ice for money and when she’s told that it’s a hockey game, she’s still perplexed. The date reveals how team knew enemy Windsor code in 2013:

The Bereaved Down Bad and Out Burger King Bros, 2005:

Ginger covertly tweets out pedophilia and William must say nothing:

Sexualizing young Charlotte; notice the one rapey like:

A loose ruling class, according to House of Windsor:

Nude-tone clothing that looks Ye familiar:

Her Instagram is 2 million fake Harry accounts. Netflix cooking show taped in a fake house; a dig at his sister-in-law with fake cancer:

Prince Harry is attacking transgender people online. Elliot Page, a Leonardo Inception co-star, on youtube; and Karla on Twitter. Our Celica convo gave the monster the impression he could pass off his anti-trans, racist, sexist writings as Karla’s. My name means Of Moors in Sicilian. Cousin: contact the Oscar-nom actress’ agent:

Hacksville says twat:

Smiling, bereft Prince Harry inherited strings paperwork from his grandfatherly father, King Charles, that he didn’t relinquish after 9/11 or Sandy Hook, but was allowed humanitarian, published book, magazine cover — even crime-reducing — pretense. Notice his infamous cat laser pointer on the acting superhero mask. BBC article confirms: https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-norfolk-63851120

[lavelled]

Writing this now, I realize that I’m done pontificating on rape, trapped, kidnapping, life theft, middle-age nothingness, youth elongated, gun violence, school shootings, concert shootings, twenty-something suicide, teen suicide, tween suicide, suburban annihilation, family murder-suicide, animal cruelty, leashing, good, god, dog, bad, bomb, hate groups, contracts, silent pacts, petitions, partitions, Windsor code, celebrity code, my code, childhood bullying, community, milky, double speak, philosophy, upchuck, hierarchy, pedophilia, maintaining rules, minimalist places, written, ridden, views, clicks, clinks because — and hear me out — it’s awful.

It's not altogether fair to be here, still, in familiar suburbia at 52 with nothing whilst writing of dire social ills thanks to my teenhood. I don’t want this to be my greatest accomplishment. To be withdrawn from society and detached from the place where I want to be, doing what I was meant to do alongside the people I’ve liked my whole life, but instead writing a bookish newsletter about sick horrendous crimes, and sometimes blaming myself for them.

These 39 blogs or so aren’t bemused stories. I hope Tom is able to make young people feel comfortable on the internet, without the monster on training wheels. People need to live their lives in some routine that doesn’t involve me or my situation.

There is Fresh Air. On NPR. There are bookstores, libraries, iTunes for a brew of restorative escapism. Find meaningful work in volunteering at animal shelters, the Boys & Girls Club, nursing homes, hospitals, help people with disabilities, Rosetta Stone a real language, pick up a new sport, take a computer science class, learn steamship Stem and code, open an online account somewhere. I’m 52 and done being told what to do or how to feel on a grand scale, with nothing.

Hey, Dad Cruise, instead of yelling at me through fake Camila Cabello press you could, oh I don’t know, get me out of an inbox.

Hack Prince Harry is weaponizing his news headlines in noisy agitation to expose his family pedophilia that is more kindergarten wooden blocks than rental vids. What’s your Blockbuster legal battle court case?

I thought you’d be chewing holes in your containment. I thought you’d be crinkled up in the intensive care unit by now. Such an eyewash tease. I expressed that if either you or your staff, and I can’t think of a more dispiriting pet-a-pony employment, tried to advertise Markle as this soft domesticity, idealized motherhood, feminist, some kind of role model or loving newlywed, I’d post accomplice screengrabs. Along comes a hoax Vanity Fair piece on Big Business in California to coincide raging wildfires about royally separated twatheads with no artistic products to sell; just producing heirs, thick layers of unmonitored cyber filth, underage kidnapping and wide-mouth contracts. Do magazine editors keep a barf bag nearby when they type up bullying claims from you and your nonentity wife who still has zero internet allowance?

How arousing it must’ve been for you. To chat with someone closed-off from the looming world and underneath a microscope; someone you knew was the only human not lover boyfriend spousal whispered to in your secret agreement code. During our sporty conversations, I didn’t know you were evil in its infancy. You kept telling me that Meghan was a con, a lie, and a stand-in for me and I’d retweet LIE. You’d fave-reply “too important” and “well-preserved” knowing I was blaming the middle-aged actor and not the pedophile King for my stalled ambition and childlessness. You kept telling me to flip it. Flip what? Your father is fossilized remains, ditchwater, and yellow teeth. I’d have to date a five year old.

Your Henri Matisse graffitiing is leaked contractual vandalism. Yeah, I recognized my life on a public website. My family, my real ethnicity, my sport, education, French battlefield feminist. For a while there, briefly, I had a life — however ribboned. You and your family took that all away with a coil of rope. I hope the book allows for a belated though punctual ending. With Tom at the helm, mopping the floor, so to speak.

In between cups of tea and pissy anger-walks, Henry Mountbatten-Windsor is nonstop underage pursuit because, as I’ve mentioned, no press secretary, no caretaker, no housemaid, no uncle, no cousin, no relative, no relative Thomas Kingston, where is Thomas Kingston husband to Lady Gabriella, no sister-in-law, no in-laws whatsoever, no step-mum, no polo buddy, no military veteran, no technical colleague, no palace aides, nobody on this earth wants to deal with the rotted, corroded, medically ill Prince with paperwork in decade 4. Humanist Harry gets the greatest pleasure from thimbles, scissors, and a technological setup in an old tower with a museum gift shop far away from California, threatening me, Tom Cruise, and children on iPads. Any new shiny award for the Duke and Duchess of Suckit?

The Spanish-born actor and Days of Our Lives soap opera star, Francisco San Martin, 39, just killed himself by hanging in LA. Maybe we could re-label soap operas without cleanliness or liquid laundry detergent or shower thoughts, which is one of Harry’s tweet accounts. They are now called Milady Dramas. You’re forbidden from hurting yourselves.

I read a few presidential executive actions, systemic prejudice for marginalized groups of people including no funding or recognition for gender transition medical procedures and now there are only two biological sexes. Then I read something about trying to end birthright citizenship. Oh good. Blatantly unconstitutional orders. Who could have predicted that. Hegseth needed a VP pass for the top military job. I’ll be expressing my leftist politics at some point, though important people don’t always respond to it. I wish they would.

I’m reading and watching the hostage exchange in a ceasefire deal. I don’t remember feeling this thankful in quite a long time.

K

young stenographer; pen, notebook, machete red belt:

stop sexualizing your Angelic niece:

inhospitable, glorifying domestic violence on my mother’s birthday; it's Tom courtesy of Prince Harry: 

Harry’s supposed first words; why does he sign it as if he hasn’t been online since 2006 which he has — Celica and I conversed Feb 2014.

Article on his lies . . . https://www.eonline.com/news/542110/prince-harry-sends-his-first-tweet-at-invictus-games-launch-jokes-that-he-can-t-type-properly

being British royalty means pretending your family has multiple diseases while also advertising your nonwife and her cooking project:

playboying with the enemy — google Cibele Dorsa, she jumped from the seventh floor in Brazil years ago, stop hurting yourselves; with charity hashtag, see also Sentebale, Invictus Games, Archetypes: 

stereotyped The Archer. My acting dreams delayed by forty years, give or take:

a smiling, inconsolable child. Catch-­all X dorm room décor. 9.401 is debarment rule, like blacklisting:

a mateless spiderweb of go fuck yourself: 

hurting me to hurt Tom:

[lavelled]

Nothing seems to be going quite right for the kitchen table couple that don’t live together. Your separated wife visited a Teen Girls charity. With respect, way to distance yourself from a lifetime of pedophilia. Markle is exactly what the upper crust Windsor ancestry deserves. The perfect mixture of vain, cheap sociability and callous reserve. Did she mention all the teen girls who killed themselves during your 8-year togetherness? It is a conspicuous fact to communicate in an otherwise fiery and staged utterance.

Now I know why the Mission: Impossible movies take three years to churn out — Tom’s been keeping my vampire internet hours. (allows for privacy amongst suburbia.) Late hours, and those cliffside, aviation, and motorcycle stunts. I wish I knew all those years ago. He’s not only been beside me this whole time, but he never wanted the little sarcastic softball player in dental braces to be tied up in paperwork to your sexually motivated, much older, ruinous Papa. But how you spin a story.

Across endless cyber platforms, balancing royal cliques with blooded cum-drenched clicks. When you could have bowed out a long time ago. Do what’s best for that little girl. You didn’t.

I watched you dance at a wedding promenade, charity functions, royal events, humanitarian appearances, tech speeches, super bowls, concerts, award ceremonies, art galleries and you and your paid wife accepting newborn onesies from the Yankees and Red Sox while you talked to me online as sporty Celica, watching my life, partitioned, go absolutely nowhere as bigger names threw themselves on swords because of the paper trail and children hurt themselves for what interlocking King Charles and his fresh junior did to me decades ago. You’ve had nonstop limitless computerized reign because nobody wants to deal with you: no caretaker, no minder, no step-mum, no extended family network, no publicist, and no psychotherapist.

Imagine a world without Prince Harry’s steady technological pulsing of chords.

In its purest sense, do love stories usually begin with the suitor borrowing the leading lady’s sisters to invoke luridness such as, “on my hands and knees, a slut”? No, I don’t think that’s a desirable hallmark mainstay. Your computer-generated poetry is unhesitatingly underage wordplay or punning or outright rape composition. I don’t like it. Since I mentioned Hallmark in correlation to a certain actress I don’t care for, I wanted the producers and actors to know that I thought "A Biltmore Christmas" was an award caliber movie of nostalgic sweetness that arrived in my life precisely when I needed it.

Harry, you hacked Nathan’s account, the flash drive you knew contained our text conversations and you deleted Celica, because you may want the contract to end, but not in this way. Not at your own hands. Not this publicly. You weren’t my in-the-middle-of-the-night baseball friend. You were the maker of chains and chainlink fences, twisting and tightening with your off-center online manipulation. You can elaborate on your hard-won theories on what is owed or deserved and your characteristic childhood grief which I have yet to witness; none of which gives you a life pass on cruelty. You hurt me to hurt Tom.

This is above my cyberly powers and station in life, but I would love some kind of ceasefire agreement and the hostages taken to be freed. A truce would help me. Can I not feel like complete shit for young girls and children everywhere all the time? The world got turned upside down by the lowliest person on the street pretending to be nobility and I’m trying to set it upright, restore it with words.

Never far from humanity’s side of extreme falsity and deception is the House of Windsor and that includes Twitter-boy—though, I must make a correction: apparently, my athlete friend, Celica, has always had blood splatter on her profile image. I should have noticed her skin effect. I wasn’t expecting a shy geisha ballgame samurai princess to exhibit biofluid and that’s on me.

One more thing: nobody tells me who to love or who to sleep with.

I’ll be using the pronouns He and Him because it’s Prince Harry. The silent pact about these convos shall hereto be obeyed.

K

you’ll notice most of our conversations took place in their wedded year of 2018—this is a paid mouthpiece for Harry's revenge:

Retracing steps, I realized we conversed on YouTube years ago—he as The Sarinator, which I later learned could be Sarah or Harrys and me as me—his three statements:

my double replies:

I assume he’s bullhorn yelling for a little buried girl; another account where we conversed:

he has several accounts in this moniker; a tapestry of mysteryman:

Duke and Duchess of Sussex:

This is Celica. We used to play At Midnight Points together. Incidentally, where is Chris Hardwick? Can he host something I’d watch? Like a guest host stint on Jeopardy when Ken takes his vacation in the summer, something:

this is a guitar:

2018 Wedded New Year:

Prince Harry gifted me a Mookie Betts GIF:

I was excited for my team to win the ALCS:

Back when I thought champagne meant champagne and wine was wine, silly me:

the great gatsby from Harry:

a hoodie and my talented Japanese-born players:

girl ownership while a honeycombed groom:

a young Tom and a pen-pal:

proves he was chatty and followed me on twitter for years, up there in the corner:

the treacherous slope of baseball, hockey, and contracts:

dialogue about Mister Shohei Ohtani; I’m not a stalker:

who is obsessed with 17-year-olds, asking for a Scottish friend:

something crass that has followed me since I was 10:

Yes.

leave me alone:

this is not my email account; Prince Harry is showing me a phony Boston email in his tech psychopathy expertise:

this is my email account; Harry sent it knowing I’d eventually sort out the major development contract story and wanted to send through a weak fuck-you to Tom for just this moment:

the goofy fallacy of thinking this Royal House of Windsor Family is well-adjusted; the worst, remarried, elderly, liar:

Prince Harry’s psychomental nail marks above the little girl’s head:

it's more dramatic if I don't continue writing . . .

[lavelled]

You’re trying to get me to land on your pickaxe tweets. I won’t do it. You really do need to be institutionalized, Harry.

You know how the world made a sword-and-shield pact with senior devil and his obedient son until a return to action and liberation of a verbose girl who saw her reproductive and career-making abilities veer from reality that only begot terrorism, kidnapping, gun violence and suicide? By reading this, you’re making a silent pact with her. Rule of law states: I don’t wish for the specifics of these two blogs and conversational dialogue to ever be alluded to in creative fiction, nonfiction, news, on screens, radio, etc.

Knowing now the erosion that the diabolical social and life contract caused, I’m not proud of the series of conversations that I had online.

If the screengrabs look blurry, it’s because they are. I got hacked or there was a flaw in the software. Years ago. All I know is, I put in the flash drive and the pictures were leaving my screen one by one until the file finally said corrupted and unreadable. I grabbed my iPhone and took pictures of the computer program meltdown. Tom: don’t do anything until you get the Celica screengrabs; those will look normal and highly readable.

K

Pics — Prince Harry is Nate:

my McSweeney's GBV article he retweeted; me in the corner up there:

a digital thank-you note:

a different angle; wasn’t just a brief thank you:

A GOAT Wolfman account. Tom: it seems he is goading you about the classic wordplay game, Mad Libs. Two years ago. I saw it on the old layout and thought: Why, why a mockup of Mad Libs...

I think because you saw us converse in a Mad Lib-style generator back in 2015...

this is a plate of chicken:

talking aloud; Harry also operated Nate’s podcast twitter page:

the headset and mindset of leading me to believe that the other guy is the dismissive or absentee or evil person, but no, he's not:

[lavelled]

You’ll grab a video that already exists from a fan at a game where they spent the pastime cheering and rooting for their home team, and you re-record it with limestone-green laser pointers dancing across the screen like a wizard with a defective battery in hopes that a riverside movie star will see it and in the sheer unlikelihood go, well, this is what makes me fold after 40 years. This right here. You, as a tv sportsman, then hijack the comment section with real-time game breakdowns and live stats in cerebral dimensions that only represent underage anatomy, from accounts labeled Elizabeth Chase.

I didn’t know you did this. I should have. Though, sometimes, you just wanna romanticize the bottom udders of pedophile Windsor Royalty.

This video, for instance: https://www.reddit.com/r/Damnthatsinteresting/comments/trx23w/mo_salah_taking_a_penalty_for_egypt_with_laser/

But you do it on TikTok, a platform operated and created for young people. You don’t belong on tic-tac steampunk dancey clockwork. Guess how I know that. ‘Cause I don’t belong on tiktok either and I don’t terrorize young people with contractual cat toys.

This is how you spend your daytime, nighttime, days and weekends? How do you find time to neglect the two children who think you’re their funny-voiced bachelor Uncle?

You’re hoping the soundscape clicks I make will send a deafening message to Tom because he’s Biz, Mark, Maverick, Brad, Ethan, Luther and he’s virtual shadowing you; he’s never inked anything that I could detect. You’re the one with an illegal chatty EarthCam.

I’m sorry Californians are suffering. World Central Kitchen, or WCK, is a worthy cause and those who can should donate to it and I hope you, Harry, and your paying-gig wife donated generously for your sensitive humanitarian effort as you go through the internet on skates screaming first occupant of a minor.

I have a few Nate screengrabs for Wednesday morning and then Celica on Friday.

K

Deleted Instagram.

pencil, beer, wine, KR on the menu, then she married the pizzaman:  

show seems delayed:

global humanitarian:

caught in a revenge plot:

I recognized Sicily:

gentlemanly and libelous filth about a man’s ex-wife and daughter who was 17 at printing:

Harry's red arrowsmithing:

messenger descending:

[lavelled]

You’ve outed yourselves as the fire-prone, fire-starting couple that isn’t a couple.

Disaster follows you two champs of light, huh?

In between coded World Central Kitchen appearances, he’s directly chatty with me on Tumblr and re-uploading NYC TikToks with feline emerald laser pointers across the screen.

No East Coast.

K

Prince Harry’s humanitarian craft:

[lavelled]

Happy New—what season is it? On Twitter, you’re taught that it goes: Loctober, Nutless November, Dickless December and Sissy New Year. Screen time is a cat’s paw of filthy pixelated sentences in little boombox songbird because House of Windsor is full of prom promiscuity.

We were all mesmerized by your Duchess opening a brand new Instagram account on December 1st in a dash of deviation, given that she still doesn’t have news, print, bookclub, broadcast, video or Internet allowance due to breeding employability. You’ve revealed yourself as her networking tech boy. How regular-person of you. The Windsor spousal Netflix show in its plastic plate tableware is an exercise in banality. I’m guessing. I’d never watch it. Your overblown humbug self-advertising is because nobody else will promote it, plus you think I’ll devote a word limit to something not infringement. Haven’t you noticed? Word limit appears limitless. But keep spending an abundant amount of time online sexualizing minors—related to you and unrelated—devaluing your wife even further, stirring up violence, suicide and disaster, promoting disingenuous opinions, and working on behalf of your pedophile daddy whilst speaking of erotic humanities in code.

You try to engineer the flow of information across news cycles and digital clicks with your blasé revisionist flashbacks. I’ve already outed you and your pedo leashing father. You’re hoping I get distracted from Celica. Celtic. Celibate. Galatic. Cereal. Whatever your objective was for the nurse housewife softball baseball moniker. I’ll post screengrabs in a few days, with zero circles or underlining. They’re from the old ivory Twitter layout. No rape dungeon grid décor. Old trending topics from the careerless have-not way over here. Perhaps for years you gave high-fives to William in your gleaming castle splendor as you went through the rigmarole of humanitarian relief worker, husband and father while I turned 50 in my childhood home, writing to my baseball blatherer. You never mentioned anything about any escape route, no minor lapse into any free passes; just the manipulative act of tappity tap-tap conversational headpats and camouflaged direct emails. You deleted Celica right before Christmas because you don’t want the contract, whatever this is, to end. Hence, your Instagram preening. I mentioned our friend, Celica, thirty blogs ago and all you did was privatize and bloody her image. You kept her page up and visible this whole time so you could goad and taunt, to most likely Tom, with your arrogant, overseas, headline-grabbing, child’s tricycle threats. Look around your medieval stone fort. Read the surefire news. Nobody sides with the English jailer, they never did.

Your melty breakdown is likely due to William getting upset that I’ve retraced your digital steps with his kids and cum. It’s a common problem online. To read that Princess Charlotte cums a lot. Apparently, it makes the heart grow fonder: Charlotte’s cum. Not sure what to do about young Princess Charlotte cumming so much. Is it a medical condition? Who do I ask for advice? Maybe there’s a soothing fidget spinner for excessive discharge. For Princess Charlotte. You can get tongue-tied when you see underage children you love being reduced to a sexual object and used for profit in an unmanageable void, especially on an online classroom where viewership can be deeper and wider. Your wife and children are online, William, in extra artistic aims and with excess cum, for the function of a violent message towards Tom. Authored by your regal brother. Imagine the scrolls, the Getty Imagery and websites that contain my sisters and me in slutty buttonholed prose over the course of four decades, being roped into your family drama at such a young age. Whether schooled in the knowing-unknowing flippable numerology, it’s unfair for my family to see photographs or scribbling when we don’t have publicists, agents or minders. Surely I can share the great celebrant of tweets that contain your family as well. The Prince of Wales is referred to as: Red Willis 4, Reed Willis, The Red Will, Willy Red Williams, Redarie Williams, Will Hazell 123, Whazell, Twillard. Willyn Johnny. Prince William penis graffiti. Britain's Prince William with a penis drawn on his head. Penis doodled. William pinney's posts. Mad night, funny how you couldn't beat up a bunch of 15 year olds! pussy and no one likes shady pussies. Ducking with those that wants to open their pussy for me. can u be sending me pussy everyday? Still the same ladies who want their Pussy eaten or the spit is different ? lol what a pussy ass bitch. tagged everyone but me. an honor, mister president. PRINCE OF GOOD LIFE. Squirting & grinding the camera. twitter im out of here. boy pussy prince princelycuntwilliam. BigWillz. heywilly07. prinzwill. you are sure a mature Man.

Here is a more inclusive worldview of what Prince Harry publishes about the House of Windsor; a social media-amplified enriched and enriching experience:

good little fuck toy gobble up and down on bbc like a sissy slut. goon for charli cum cum cum all over her. I'm nothing but a sissy for my new daddy wankbattlecham BLACK OWNED. #blowjob #chubby #amateur #orgasm #fingering #bbc #cum #cumshot #hentai #baddie #ass #anal #feet #onlyfans #crempie #white #leak Charli's Cum Rag. His Passionate Deep Steady Stroke Makes CharliCum Hard. Charlisexual. why have porn when you have me? being a charlisexual is a real thing. CharliAddiction. #normalizecharli. Kinglouisix. Big dick top fucking slutty hungry bottoms sucking fat cock. Kinglouisforya. Took my slut to the cruising beach in case anyone else wanted to watch him work Full video. Kinglouisforya. Let daddy in that hole. Big dick top fucking slutty hungry bottoms sucking fat cock. All @'s watermarked in every tweet.  Big dick top who loves to share. Slut loving getting her ass and pussy filled with dick at the same time. I love gangbangs and blowbangs. I also have a misogyny kink. fix the open-legged slut to bench with chains - bring a group of horny loaded guys - start the rotating fuck 1 by 1 - pull out to cum on & in wet pussy. I'm a Gangbang Loving-Whore. prince‍ george. royalsfuck. put some clothes on, whore. PRINCE MAGNUS. Archie's whore stefan's slut. Lilibet Lawless is writing steamy romance. Oral lilly whitewomanspam. Oral is far from debatable. i do cosplays, mostly blacksouls. also learning to draw too. i will cosplay every blacksouls girlDiorDaSluttt. doria/whore ? I miss her here sm. You are everything!!! As I'm slow, I just actually got shampoo (preconditioner, ha ha). Mark Dority. I take shit personal cause i'm really genuine. JustAHolyKat44's top artists: Wet Kat. Extra wet today. The Secret Adventures Of A Squirter! If you're under 18, go follow someone else's nonsense. Katie Utterback. camillawet. snap me. Broke my Lime bike. CamillaWest. every horny guy who retweet or like will get a free nude. Rt to plump her up! Bitch Tits Eugene fucks want to hang out? No? Okay. duchess fergie fucks up again. Having the only functioning vape at an afters is of course the closest one gets to being a messianic figure. But so does one become a lamb to slaughter. yassss to this chic & fun #fergalicious stylez. why do so many people care about _pippa_fucking_middleton_ Slow-mo on Pippa today for thousands of middle class men to rewatch on sky + when their wives slip into gin comas. jamesmaddie69. James Middleton. Some days you don't feel like unloading the dishwasher. Other days you feel like conquering the world. High levels of vitamin D. Ew, just thinking about where Meghan's mouth has been gives me the ick. Meghan mouth-frothing nonsense from the British press. Oh Look !!! Meghan's mouth automatically assumes the position when she's surrounded by men. Lady C says in video: 'Meghan's mouth is dirtier than your or my anus'.

Twitter, Inc. gave the son of purgatorial book-making that rare ability to scribe high-toned vulgarization of everything in life. From little girls and boys to in-laws to innocent Instagrammers to Presidents. Even Prince Harry’s print mentions of “lucrative” mean lube.

On April 23, 2018, one month before the Prince Harry & Meghan Markle royal wedding, 25 year-old Alek Minassian, in the business district of Toronto in a rented van, targeted pedestrians, killing 11 and critically injuring 15. The incident is the deadliest vehicle-ramming attack in Canadian history. It was labelled misogyny terrorism because the victims were overwhelmingly female as the perpetrator admitted that he was motivated by revenge for the social and sexual rejection by women. It led to a TorontoStrong movement, with great familiarity. On November 2, 2018, six months after the Prince Harry & Meghan Markle royal wedding, Scott Paul Beierle, 40 years-old, opened fire inside a yoga studio in Tallahassee, Florida, shooting six women before killing himself. Beierle was a military veteran and former teacher, and held a bachelor’s degree in political science and government. The targeted attack was considered misogynistic extremism and male supremacist violence. He, too, admitted to becoming vengeful because women rejected his romantic advances. According to his social media profiles where he posted racial slurs and sexist rants along to such music lyrics as “To hell with the girl I can't get in the sack” — he showed that he identified with an involuntary celibate online community. On September 17, 2018, four months after the Prince Harry & Meghan Markle royal wedding, Iowa State phenom golfer, Celia Barquín Arozamena, was killed at the Coldwater Links golf course. Born in Spain, Celia, 22, was in her final year of a degree in civil engineering and on the university team when police discovered her deceased body. She had been golfing alone. The young prominent Spanish golfer had stab wounds on her head, neck, and torso. She was Iowa State Female Athlete of the Year, and she won the 2018 European Ladies Amateur Championship.

Misogynistic terrorism and Celia stabbing in the utterly distinctive wedded year of 2018. Instead of church bells, I assume royal guests were treated to the sounds of distant chainsaws. And a few tweets from the groom. Together, your huckster reign of mixed success is hopefully over. It’s no accident that we got from your hoax union: celebrity suicide, youth suicide, school shootings, multiple suburban family annihilation, vehicle homicide, ordinary homicide, stabbings, and flickering unpleasantries about a quarantined middle-aged girl through tours, public appearances, several documentary series and podcast audio. Nutz, am I right, Megs? There is no bottom to your personal righteousness, Harry. You’re either snobbishly claiming sprawling mansions and private jet travel in your homelife or saying that your numb childhood is lined with grief. You’re an over40 trust fund prince in England who gets paid for that oral tradition of writing about foaming cunt and butt rubs on a website that wasn’t your idea.

I get the impression from your caretakers that your nondescript marriage, a work and heir-only undertaking which faded a while ago—that was so considerably cruel as the agreement holder and his accomplice it inspired murder and suicide—will not be publicly uncoupled. I really wanted that for your mother, in the history books. Your false attachment is only for Meghan to sell wares and for you to use against Tom in “kill him” spiteful macho print. In this way, it doesn’t seem much like a noble tipping of the hat to a mother.

I’ve offered some celebrity tweet shitmongering by Twitter CEO, Prince Harry, and one was from the actress, Chelsea Peretti, who may symbolize a German Sea Cruise. Truthfully, I think Harry holds a patterned grudge against comedy in general and he was never a fan of the Key & Peele sketch comedy series. Their most popular sketch is Substitute Teacher, which aired on Comedy Central on October 17, 2012. Nothing symbolic about that month or the number 17. Or the fact that a character looks like a young Tom Cruise, near Harry’s senior dad. Notice the chalkboard of medical ethics, and this is a minor quibble, but also the feminist scrawling of anatomy and an unknown woman’s lack of choice — the Teaching link below:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dd7FixvoKBw

I’d be remiss if I didn’t also include the Key & Peele’s tonal art of miscommunication sketch, which highlights the pitfalls of misunderstood text messages in a yin and yang duality, which, for me, symbolizes how I misinterpreted Prince Harry’s niceties, from my closed-off perspective.

Text Message Confusion:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=naleynXS7yo

I have celebrity screengrabs that show Prince Harry has taken measures, over the years, to get Tom to quit or surrender by extreme colleague mudslinging. After his family force-fed participants in a sort of silent pact, the predator son then took over the internet to tourniquet a grown woman and ruin careers.

Adam Levine. In September 2022, Adam was accused of cheating on his wife when she was pregnant with their third child. Instagram model and much younger, Sumner Stroh, claimed to have had a year-long affair with Adam. She didn’t. Right away you notice the appearance of summer, spring or ring that is Henry Windsor hardcode. The story grew significantly, thanks in part to Goldilocks Harry’s language of bloomed teen-speak. Holy fuck, he wrote on Instagram. The word Fuck is with 7 Ks, a la Harry’s obsession with Nazism. Unfortunately for Adam, he represents the Adam and Eve biblical doctrine simply by existing and I’m sure Harry has hated Adam, the frontman in a band name that outed him and his pedophile family as far back as 1994. To be the career-ruining maestro when his wife was pregnant shows: (a) you’re heartless and don’t give any thought to those kiddo heirs you created and bought for daddy and (b) the whole notion that the proxy son almost at all times was a silent man was bullshit, considering this instrumental tech prince manipulated me for years online and caused professional careers to end.

Kathy Griffin. Twitter CEO, Prince Harry, has demonstrated that anybody with red hair and a twitter page can be a failed experiment for his own stand-up comic routines. I’m sensing a polka-dot pattern between the royal tethered to performers, yet not having what it takes to actually be a performer. His inevitable tweets on Kathy’s account center on dick. As far back as 2010. A few excerpts: Mushroom penis. Oh, then suck my dick. Small dick energy. People suck. Sucks! He ruined my vocal chords. I'm such a whore... Just a slut trying to have fun. Despite of what he says he is a fame whore just like everybody else. Within internal affairs at Twitter Inc., Harry started the hashtag #FreeKathy to denote that a little girl wasn’t free. At one point, Prince Harry created a fictional Twitter beef between Kathy and Don Cheadle (Tom) back in 2019. “You. Of all people. Just another Hollywood movie star phony,” Griffin wrote to Cheadle on Twitter. She didn’t. The made-up tweet was about the fallout from the mock-head photo. I think by 2017, Kathy had had enough of Harry’s forced D-kissed flippantly rapey tweets right next to her persona. Kathy has always projected this gossip-storytelling maternal feminism in her sense of humor. There’s a reason why she’s continually aligned in matters of art and heart with the older legends—Joan Rivers, Liza Minnelli, and Cher.

Gisèle Pelicot. I don’t think she ever anticipated being such a visible women’s rights activist at 72 years-old. But that’s what she is. You can google her landmark monthslong drugging and rape trial in France. She defiantly waived her right to a closed trial, a nightmare rape reality at the hands of her husband, to lift the stigma on shame, spousal and sexual violence and to inspire other victims to come forward. She said that she wanted France and the world to look rape in the eye. I’ve mentioned rape intent in this blogging cir­cuit, which I realize can be profoundly inappropriate to survivors of sexual assault. Gisèle will forever be a symbol of female strength.

Harry, your life has been about uneven public philanthropy and gilded society. Some of that is wealthy aristocracy. But you knew what I dreamed of doing with my life thirty years ago; you read the emails of meandering verse. In bowtie eveningwear chatting amiably with actors extraordinaire or influential playwrights or inspiring authors, you’d post pictures of yourself on social media for a roped-off, 40-something to stare at. I would’ve been happy in dinner theater. Nobody would give me a chance and I didn’t know why. I sent scripts to the Nicholl Fellowships and they’d write back, “just missed, next 50 pile.” I still don’t know what it means. People would wave elbows in my face and laugh in a mad cackle. They’d sometimes cancel my mom’s doctor appointments, I think, to send me a message. She’s a 77-year-old heart patient. It only intensified my anger and made me lash out at the wrong person. I detest the circular speaking code that stole my life, but I know what people meant. Everyone was urging me to look up in illustrious lineage. Though, all I had to do was look at my computer screen.

K

Deleted Instagram.

The TIG; admitting she knew someone paid for a tween sexual experience, and then she married him.

Admitting she knew that someone at a Burger King in Hamburg, Germany had locked away a little girl. Then, she married him.

In 2014, Markle happily admits her textbook knowledge of who the pedophile minored French fry jailer is, winking. She’d date him two years later. They actually issued American Red Cross wildfires statements. Him, echoing allllll the way over from England:

A real Getty Image of a twerp with a toy gun and a Number 1 toy motorcycle, in case you thought King Charles wasn’t a pedophile rapist deviant after all:

A real Prince Charles photo op of a nine-year-old twerp in a Number 1 racecar alongside a Tom Cruise lookalike in supersonic speed pillaging. I was a young undergraduate. This is 4 years before the famous car chase. The proxy was already in place:

Eton College, toasting to the four-decade revenge on behalf of his mother who would never have endorsed it:

Bereaved Leopold and Loeb, making a living from health, mental, and gynecologic care. Also leashing and false tales of brotherly rifts:

The POLO hoofbeats of helping with his vadge tourniquet:

In 2019, Markle visited an animal shelter in London so Harry could boast to Tom of price-tag baby puppy leashing; she’s not a victim:

Wedded couple attending Vancouver Canucks vs. San Jose Sharks in Canada, November 2023. I didn’t manipulate the picture nor start the video; head gash is Harry’s and her Pennywise grin means not a Marooned victim:

Variety interview with crossed ankles, and possible future employment:

The Tagging Bros; Prince William peering into the window of a London KFC, 2020:

A real captured photo write-up: https://www.cosmopolitan.com/uk/reports/a34414826/prince-william-kfc/

Twitter CEO torments a silent Tom from a tech cave like a maniacal wound-up doll:

Harry is thrilled to explain how Princess Charlotte is cum addicted:

Stop sexualizing your niece:

Not only did Harry create Kathy hashtags, but he created a smattering of trends based on her persona, this is in 2014:

In case you needed a map of the decked-out rapey author:

The fictional Don (Tom) Cheadle feud:

Adam’s first tweet that Harry posted of his own firsties when Twitter was launched in 2009:

As far back as 2012, bothering Adam about, what else, pedophilia whale humps:

In 2013, Harry typing Sumner, summer, spring and break. I thought Adam more than held his own opposite Keira Knightley in the movie, Begin Again. It’d be cool to see him in another offbeat independent film:

A British quillman married a rad feminist rocker musician who went to high school near me. Harry: If you were literate or just vaguely normal you’d realize that author Neil Gaiman is not astronaut Neil Armstrong nor is he a princess and your accusations aimed at Tom caused a media drama for Neil and his shows. Mr. Gaiman did not sexually assault, groom or abuse the former nanny, employee or fan:

This originally had the title, Prince of Whales, to out himself as the twitterer inking devotee and his own daddy as jailed initiator— it made the news—https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-wales-48622001

Pedos on their pedestaled throne; hey he posts it:

A pedo arrowed boxing sign in Harry’s barracks, from the old layout design:

Reads like major libel:

 Aspersions or something lawyerspeak:

I recognized the buried little girl in print in the corner, and the spikes behind Prince Harry's head:

An official crowned photo of piloting Harry, reminding the world of untouchableness, the web design of years past. It'd be great to not have RAF or flight ability for a while:

I'll Tumblr those convo screengrabs soon.