lavelled

[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 To be withdrawn from society and detached from the place where I want to be, doing what I was meant to do alongside the people I’ve liked my whole life, but instead writing a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.

[lavelled]

I’ve got one more overwordy blog before conversational screengrabs, in a few days.

K

Deleted Instagram.

A. A. Gill, on the paperback, was a British journalist, critic, and restaurant reviewer who passed on from cancer in 2016. Bourdain called him a loyal friend. I’d rather see Anthony Bourdain do literally anything than her blushing bride, mile-high meals food show. Bourdain committed suicide in Kaysersberg-Vignoble, France one month after their wedding extravaganza:

I wonder what family generated the gintastic past and modern-day destruction with royal title press, royal duty press, royal funding press, travel, internet, interview, awards, hosting and wedding opulence while holding muzzle-able paperwork. Guess we’ll never know:

I thought, Twitter can be highbrow. It’s Caspar David Friedrich, a German painter. His iconic painting: Wanderer above the Sea of Fog. Google it. Prince Harry, in his twisted whims, twisted it to reveal himself. This website layout looks a lot like the original, doesn’t it?

A website throwback to my adulthood. Username is there, too. I look forward to your press about junior high school graduation, from England, alone:

[lavelled]

I’m sick over the crash at the Muan International Airport in South Korea. At posting, we don’t know what caused the aviation disaster, other than a reported bird strike. I’ve written about the movie, Parasite, several times before, including mentioning, reverently, my Screen Actors Guild Award winning actor, Lee Sun-kyun, who killed himself last Christmas. He played the father of the wealthy family.

An apocalyptic media presence for Meta CEO, Mark Zuckerberg, suggests that there exists a fallout, zombie-invasion, doomsday bunker in Hawaii for tech moguls.

For the contemporary reader, you have to admit, it seems plausible. Think of my life and the rise in Windsor Generational activity in the last couple of years. I wish the central thesis was a bit clearer. But I think what you’re saying, Biz, is that you watch, too. At least you’re observing him. Tom probably, too. A Luther Stickell. How a stitched-up, vengeful, crotch-grabbing, eager-beaver, pedophile rapist wheedled his way to a NYC doorstop recently remains a mystery. I guess an accented, red-headed rapist caught a system entirely by surprise. I don’t want him near the East Coast. I’d also prefer a third ex to be in the tech bunker. He’s a hunter of skulls to crush. If all this security surveillance was dramatized in The Social Network, I missed it. I just don’t get how it’s legal, at least not a violation, to openly, plainly, directly, blatantly contact the person within a confidentiality agreement. Harry did that. From Harry impersonating celebrities and their fan club presidents in pageant-style arrogance to publicly exchanging written dialogue as a concerned housewife to our tappity tap tap of blocking and unblocking morse code when all this evidence wasn’t performed surreptitiously.

Are you telling me that Silicon Valley lawyers cannot prove that as a practical matter, Prince Harry has egregiously violated gag order materials in a confidential relationship by installing spyware on my devices and conversing with me directly? For years?

You’re saying this airhole shitbag with knife dildo fantasies and his supercharged technology, invisible to no one, who intentionally yet disparagingly calls me out pretty much everywhere on the internet, beckoning my attention with his choice of fonts and unflattering sobriquets, he’s not violating some kind of intellectual property infringement? It’s his right to speak freely? There’s unauthorized use everywhere. Hollywood—in accordance with pacts—has had to refer to me by numbers, symbols, initials, stickers, body paint and Sanskrit, and here’s Harry Windsor, your fiery hued CEO, of all criminals in the world, ungoverned as he gives himself up in cyber print.

To past and present Twitter CEOs and Board of Directors, Product Engineers, Human Resources Business Partners,  Head of global ad sales, and General Counsel, Jack Dorsey, Noah Glass, Noah Vihinen, Evan Williams, Florian Weber, Richard William Costolo, Parag Agrawal, Omid Kordestani, Peter Currie, Patrick Pichette, Bret Taylor, Ned Segal, Sherwin Baghai, Leslie Berland, Sean Edgett, Dan Davydov, Larry Ellison, Vijaya Gadde, Marcela Benitez Reyes, Robin Wheeler, the firms Union Square Ventures and Sequoia Capital, and Andreessen Horowitz, Linda Yaccarino, Renee Atwood, Numazer Pavri, Keith Coleman, Matt Derella, Kristin Binns, Renato Leite Monteiro, Alex Josephson, Jenner Balagot, Ged Tarpey, Yoel Roth, Sarah Personette, Kathleen Pacini, and, of course, Isaac Biz Stone:

Hi. You can read the wail and rage and totalitarian political ideology that Harry preaches to young adults from his desk cubbyhole of privilege; you can barrel through or just casually yawn and idle the day away with the teachings: Hitlearn. Nazombie. Zombieteen. Zombie Bonez. Nizzie Laughinghouse. Adolpha Lee. Adolph Hamlet 2. Adolphathewolf. Adolph Reed who could be anybody. Adolph Hare, which could be anybody. Adolph Herley. Izan Lopez, hidden backwards. He writes, verbatim: Naziflower. Accept permanent decline or we will call you a Nazi. Its amazing how much they love those NAZI Good Old Days. Nazi-British 'moral compasses' surely converged and pointed the same direction. Twitter is wild because I can say “fuck nazis” and it's a controversial take. Like Nazi moths to a Nazi flame. Forced to work as a nurse at a Nazi 'baby factory' called Hochland Home. This debutante wants you to know she's a nepo baby, not a Nazi baby. LOCK THIS NAZI WHORE UP. Nazi nun. The shoe fits you nazi whore. My korean nazi whore showing me her new “cool” tattoo. Cope and seethe nazi whore. Fuck you, you mother fucking trump worshipping Nazi whore. Yep. I'm a Nazi whore. Save your comments, you cunts. What's cuter than a Goth girl? A NaziGoth girl! Twitter has become Elons personal Nazi porn bar. Do we have nazi porn bots yet.

If you’re going about your daily errands and a guidebook to sexual fingering seems to be just the right thing, the establishment known as The X app is the place for you. I warn you, he’s neither a gentleman nor a grammarian. Harry’s own words on Twitter, like a symphony conductor:

1. fingering u. starts fingering you Fingering you in front of a full body mirror. Don't close your legs, see how my finger play with your pussy. fingering you while having a normal conversation about your day. Fingering you while making eye contact.  kissing you and fingering you while you wear my shirt. HOW TO FINGER: I'll be showing everyone a unique method in which you can use in messaging your girl's clit, and pvssy. fingering her with a mood ring on to see if she's mad at me. and fingered as in "having fingers"! you nasties! She ain't just let him finger her kat in the middle. Finger Kate. Violin Fiddle Cello Clock by fiddlekate. big mama fiddle queen. Kadoodles. I lick my fingers. Same thing kinda. A handfucking convention. hand fucking makes me so. mmmm. MOM'S HELPFUL HANDFUCKING TIPS! Fingering her under her lovely sundress is such a delight. Brunch dates all summer fingering her under the table & stirring my drink with the same finger and letting her taste it. harry when he liked the tweet of the girl fingering herself back in 2014 then decided to cover it up by liking pictures of kittens. Ride those fingers. heavensbvnny. fingering her tight teen egirl pussy then tasting it on snapchat. POEM: this old man is fingering this young woman at the bar. #prince #harry Fingering book is crazy. How the hell is he - recording - fingering her - and driving. All at the same time.

Did I mention the double entendre of fingering in Henry Windsor code means fin, dolphin, whale hump, whale, Wales?

Anybody want to give Prince Harry and his wife the Distinguished Leader in Feminism Award? The Feminist Majority’s Eleanor Roosevelt Award? How about another Women of Vision Awards Ceremony in New York City like you did in 2023 when Gloria Steinem, a true hero, presented the selected breeding Californian who knew of scissor-clamp plans and that her husband had set up the nymph evening purposefully so that the whole world got to hear his preferred Steinem and hymen manner of speaking? There’s no denial of personal responsibility anymore. If institutions or organizations employ, profile or reward Meghan Markle based on feminism, anything wholesomeness or homemaking after her Insta-blogging chisel reveal, her broadcast news and Internet disallowance, Windsor Family legalese signing, and the fact that all of humankind knows her relationship is the close intimacy of a cheque and script, I’ll get the impression you’ve assumed the burden of guilt and I’ll list your organization, your executives and their spouses by name. I don’t rejoice out loud to youth suicide, which happened a lot near a royal counterfeit wedding and hasn’t let up.

On Twitter are pirated photos from Instagram without consent (what his family is known for), silk pantyhose and Grandpacore, couples into Shibari culture (google it) that he combats with “Shibarius was a beast” because Harry’s an oozing jealous little bitch, rape confessions, rape wishes, rape taunts, entangled reminders, pure bedlam threats, incarceration threats, ruminations on both entrapment and sex, turning a cancer diagnosis into a commodity, Merlot wine whining, Bring Your Dad to Work Day, Nazism, fingering, his cutting vocalism, giving your website a nice ultra-dark knife dildo atmosphere, inciting violence, his input on suicide to a point of despair, glorifying suicide, blaming suicide on Tom, wishing death on his lasting enemies, writing I like cats and hate living, rewriting history to destroy lives if you’re an actor he doesn’t like, going after athletes at slightly faster speeds, celebrity impersonations, redefining what it means to be first, using machinery to promote his propagandized marriage, leaning on linguistic cultural appropriation, typing negative observations and his natural instinct for the n-word.

His step-mum. He reduces her to puerile talk. Vivat Regina Camilla. Cam Chuck. Chief Queef. Camilla Hole. Camilla Hornebo. Twat Talk Queen. Camila Pastel. Camillassexpart. Kamilla Parkes. Camilla Park-her Bowels. Camilla Creampie. Camilla Baker 1. Camilla Tyrpak. Camillion Corp. Camillia Bedillia. Like reading the footstep stomps of a temperamental child, tripping over strewn toys, if that child was an overgrown sneak and notorious pedophile rapist with mummy issues who wants to finger his sister-in-law. Nobody else has an abundance of free time in which to strongly dislike or adore Camilla Parker Bowles online.

Currently, there is Twitter misuse. I don’t care that there’s a Heavy Flow Fanpage. I do care that kids need social media whether it’s to remedy loneliness, neglect, low self-esteem, poor physical health, eating disorders, or lack of stable housing—irony since it’s young people who are the ones who possess good internet skills and less rape pursuit, but feel guilty or gross using Twitter with the imagery and language that is spewed out by Prince Harry. If done right, their health-related quality of life can actually be improved by social media. In the wrong hands, the tendency to self-harm, feel distress, hopelessness and victimization or be suicidal can lead to a deadly reality. The lofty aesthetic of Twitter, in CEO Prince Harry’s control, has been his misplaced yammering, buzzwords, innuendo, insinuation, euphemism, and lexicon deviousness about a distorted long-held grudge. Why is the person in charge of literati, digital journalism and news headlines the one starting offensive hashtag trends and offering insights into fingering Princess Charlotte? The executives at Twitter don’t need to be clinicians. They just need to give a shit and demote him.

You gave the worst human a platform to have a significant impact on society. Speaking of platforms: The Golden Gate Bridge. It used to be described as a suicide magnet. About 2,000 people have jumped off the bridge to their deaths since it opened. In January of this year, they installed a safety netting, or barrier, to prevent an intentional tragedy. They say that the netting deterrent is a symbol of compassion. On January 28, 1993, Steven Page murdered his wife Nancy and then threw his 3-year-old daughter, Kellie, off the bridge, then he climbed over the railing himself and jumped to his death. I was barely out of my teens. Roy Raymond was born in Connecticut. A prodigy, he started a wedding invitation business at age 13 in Fairfield. He attended Tufts and Stanford Graduate School of Business. On August 26, 1993, at 46 years-old, Raymond jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge, killing himself. Roy founded the billion dollar company, Victoria’s Secret. I was barely out of my teens. Casey Joanna Brooks, a Redwood High School student in California, 17, adopted by American parents from Poland, graduated at a particularly young age and earned early admission to Bennington College in Vermont, but on January 29, 2008, she jumped from the Golden Gate Bridge, ending her young life.

Prince Harry’s computer-linked coaxing into firsties, ownership, suicide, death, and leashed misogyny remains undimmed in 2024. Thanks to Twitter.

I have celebrity screengrabs that show Prince Harry’s moods and sociopathy. A few comedians flustered him because their comedy output proved at odds with his unorthodox notions of rape and entry point. Amy Schumer was labelled a joke thief online and in the press because she had the audacity to write and produce a Friday Night Lights parody. She and her writers use wine, football and rape culture to highlight the aggression of sport, the often excused off-field behavior while also revealing the Windsor’s psycho rationalization for drafting and passing along a rape clause, all in impeccable precision. It’s called Football Town Nights and it debuted on her show in 2015. In 2016, Amy was accused of stealing other comedians’ jokes. Total coincidence.

Football Town Nights — link below:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TM2RUVnTlvs

In 2017, there were online rumors or grumblings of sexual harassment by comedian, Louis C.K. Then five female comics accused him of on-set inappropriate behavior. He apologized and expressed remorse for the unwanted sexual encounters. He was then fired from the FX comedy, Better Things, but remained a writer on a show that he helped create. I find a couple of things ironic. Louis C.K. whose real name is Louis Alfred Székely, though older than me, attended high school one town over; is Mexican with ginger red hair; his initialed last name phonetically sounds like his ethnic name yet is the initials of the company my model cousin once represented. I don’t think the comedian-actor who went to school near me, with 3 sisters of his own, ever warmed to the idea that a young woman was being tethered and told who to fuck. Go figure.

Michael Richards. He’s as well-known for playing Cosmo Kramer on Seinfeld as he is for his 2006 racist rant at a comedy club. I’ve never been eager to listen to or watch his videoed heckler interaction. Something definitely stands out: that six number. Michael starred in one of the most highly-regarded sitcom back when my sisters and I were very young. From 1989 to 1998. A lot of the characters and actors on the show bear family names, including his own middle name. I don’t think the ex-Armyman particularly savored the idea of signing paperwork pertaining to one little girl caught in a revenge fantasy which he then had to craft slapstick routines and punchlines around and spout to a guy named Jerry.

I’ll never get how one family was able to flourish in such noblest of ways when virtually everybody knew their secrets. Harry makes it seem like Twitter is his public service to the encaved loner when it was his family who put up this partition in the first place. Harry grew vastly richer after September 11. How it that fair? All I see when I see King Charles, Prince William, Prince Harry and Meghan Markle is four heartless underdogs of social ladder climbing, and also school and mosque shootings, people jumping off ivory towers and domes and bridges to their deaths and respected and talented people fading into obscurity. Society gave this family ribbon cutting prosperity. Invitations to Africa and South Africa to represent the crown. His WellChild events when he denied me basic human rights as a girl and never let up with his own-able and tagged vaginal press. A filmmaking career when he and his family kept me unhireable and financially ruinous in the arts.

If important people with connections and people in positions of power—over four long decades—bestowed less adoration, less goofy wacky depictions, less niceties in surplus to the predator contract son responsible for prolonging the unequal divide, I think I would have figured it out sooner, until one day, while borrowing someone else’s blog, I asked: why not sue him for breach of contract with the screengrabs?

K

Her deleted Insta

I already showed 4 of her rough-cut admissions. Rock, paper, scissors, nutcracker, childhood hometown, 2016 they started dating:

Fight club stamp, a few minor suggestions, knife-wise:

John is Tom, knife laid upon red napkin:

Gin and Tonics Game Night. Apples, like her jam company, means firstly rape; scotch means caught; chip chop; cutting cutter:

Bereaved and Bereted in 1998, third wheel varsity high school jackets:

A relief press is an etching printing press; in 2003; bracelet and hanging strand of string on right side:

My Little Ponies. Archewell Productions, Boardwalk Pictures, and Nacho Figueras: Prince Harry has always used hobbyhorsing to proclaim 1st-ies on behalf of his elderly father, declaring first rape of a little girl who says no:

Archewell Productions, Boardwalk Pictures, and Nacho Figueras: An author, Judy Blume reference whose books were published in the 1970s; overriding a little girl until she can’t walk; spurring a girl:

2022 Harry & Meghan Netflix documentary about a high-speed crash that never happened; SHE, not him, utters scripted onscreen dialogue about a pap (pop) and scooter (cooter) like it’s everyday conversation to entertain fans with; she’s not a victim:

Prince Harry paid for goods, services and heirs. Hence, why his 2018 tweets are so vulgar and ungallant; also, he’s really really into mouth holes:

Duchess mouth hole because he posts them:

A regular NHL ad that he regarded as the Great War so in derangement he spliced her mouth hole into the commercial:

Duchess proving that any dress is a built-in bed when she wears it:

Prince Harry doesn’t appreciate SNL when they go after his two-faced lifestyle in realism mode. This photo, I think, was inspiration for a Dame Emma Thompson sketch… link to comedy below —

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_PNtvXTjVg0

Scammers:

September 1, 2023, Harry, Meghan and her mother. Mirrorball dancing at Beyoncé's Renaissance concert in Los Angeles. Sad victims:

Pedophile old-timer faking cancer at 76:

 Harry’s red-dotted love for his step-mum:

Guy and gal heartblood genital mutilation:

Harry’s dream-drool for his niece Charlotte:

In 2016, Amy was wrongly accused of stealing jokes because of her football rape parody; because of Tom Cruise; and I guess because she has a legal age something, which is too repulsively old for The House of Windsor:

Same year as unsuccessful cancellation; self-admission of hardest (harry) and working (prince):

17 aged timecode. Autumnal leashing. Three months after fake wedding. Humiliating or embarrassed meaning redhead or red-faced:

Harry penalized Louis C.K. by projecting anger at my cousin onto him. Guest equals firstly in a queue:

Golly, Tom must own a London flat because Montecito:

Crotch-out presentation of September 11 reparations that his family and wife and kids have enjoyed:

Harry’s seething over Bookclub blogs that began in the summer, but he can’t express it via Archillect so he tucks his anger away in UK rape-play dungeons as you do:

But how can we be sure that he wants to cut a sea-green lady:

A Brighton Breach Memoir. . .

I visited my good friend, Celica, right before XMAS and she was privatized. You added blood splatter to her picture. Since she’s a shy and wily geisha, I figured she was just apprehensive conversing on the new sex dungeon X layout. But now, she’s disappeared. Her articulation and profile. Gone. You've been decoying Ohtani me all week via the press and Reddit. Something tells me you know you infringed upon a legal pact. Could this be true?

I have some Celica screengrabs that I saved from years ago:

[lavelled]

I'll be essaying in this space in a few days.

K

[lavelled]

If there was one thing I had hoped for over the weekend, it was that young Princess Charlotte went on a date.

Where did the suitor take her, the adult epicenter known as Build-A-Bear Workshop? Oh wait. William and her grandfather, King Charles, who she’s unfortunately named after, have her relegated to only socialize and copulate with men they approve of through groin inspection and a royalty payout. You’re helping Charlotte, largely bypassing those critical things like choice, freedom, partnership, happiness, human contact, and body autonomy, lifting the burden of matchmaking services. I hear dating app convos and who initiates them can be the trickiest part of being single. That and coercion.

I detect the self-purging of certain Twitter accounts and standalone tweets. The Twitter CEO would have to do that at a microscopic level and he’s too preoccupied with upholding a specific reputation through the labor of his press releases. You see a pattern of hypocrisy and go, how can well-established people slide alongside them on the red carpet in decade 4? Interview him. Publish his memoirs. Produce his films. Keep him employed when he’s feces and boiling blood.

To past and present Twitter CEOs and Board of Directors and general counsel, Jack Dorsey, Noah Glass, Noah Vihinen, Evan Williams, Richard William Costolo, Parag Agrawal, Omid Kordestani, Peter Currie, Patrick Pichette, Bret Taylor, Ned Segal, Sherwin Baghai, Leslie Berland, Sean Edgett, Dan Davydov, Larry Ellison, Vijaya Gadde, Marcela Benitez Reyes, the firm Union Square Ventures and Andreessen Horowitz, Linda Yaccarino, Renee Atwood, Numazer Pavri, Keith Coleman, Matt Derella, Kristin Binns, Renato Leite Monteiro, Alex Josephson, Jenner Balagot, Ged Tarpey, Yoel Roth, Sarah Personette and, of course, Isaac Biz Stone:

Hi. According to my research, which merely consisted of looking at birdlike social ills written in the English language published somewhere between the dates of anatomy and sexuality, your social media company, Twitter Inc., is filled with derogatory language pertaining to underage promiscuity, bestiality, horniness, whoreness, sniper fire, assassination and stabbing a friend in her vag repeatedly. In other words, I’m alleging claims of criminal conduct on your website by fleshrat, Prince Harry Mountbatten-Windsor, your CEO.

One hardly expects to log in and be greeted by a virtual slaughterhouse in warring trench poetry toward you and your sisters in close-enough representation (enhanced) that is broadcasted to the world for visitors to glance at that isn’t warranted for someone already too famous, for kids to get mad at, and for CEO profit. Prince Harry makes references to me and my sisters in what he calls loctober, knowing all too well that his uploading and etching lead to the onset of survivor’s guilt and suicide through persistent hostility, thanks to a nongoverning Board of Directors.

You don’t even need meaningful examination of the website. The crude stimulus is right there in parental and youth view, authored by your self-described PhDog.

Don’t worry, you can still cling to your willful ignorance and put in your earbuds. Sometime read the comical sentiments that fetishize a Cruise murder and then receive a literary education on how one man through mechanical grunts and growls, for years, across several websites, was able to depict one woman as a contradiction of stripped-down, hanging crucified, priestess of middle-aged whoring Lolita purity. Prince Harry, with his editor dashboard, has worked there too long. That brings me to another higher-up. My actorly ex. Isaac. Biz. Whatcha doing, Sebastian?

I’d really like to know if you were aware that he had installed twittering spy-cam on my devices. The show, Silicon Valley, got close to the truth of pinpointing his voyeurism, but it was the movie, Parasite, that inched closest to revealing encoding capabilities. Ours was a morse code of messaging through blocking and unblocking Harryesque accounts like switching off and on the lights. It became evident that he could see the unpublished words or phrases like passed notes in class. Truth be told, I wasted a lot of skillful alliteration. How could I have known that the maniac deliberately stalling all my hopes and dreams was the same person spying on my life in shambles, offering me false fellowship and comfort among an angry society in decline while I watched a never-ending loop of tours and social functions with him continually being perceived as gent and hero?

It’s topsy-turvy, exploitive, and possessive.

Conspicuously absent was my ex. Biz. I’ve only ever called you Isaac and not your buzzy nomenclature. Though, it does pair nicely with being a cinematic Clara Bow from olden days. He refers to you as Bizarch Consult1, a leading management consulting firm in Nigeria. Sounds legit. Bizcutz. Bizkutz. xNoMoBiscuitsx. Bizzleslitty. Bzek101. BizzyCrook. Isaacisabitch. Isaac Bilitz. IsaacDexter. IsaacLyDuckz, IsaacKnox. IzzyStone. Isaac Likekele. Isaac Lindsey. Senior Isaac Ericksen. Isaac Welch. Isaak Wells. IsaacClayton. Iztea. Elixstone. StitchBiz. Stitch Buzz. BizBash, which, yes, is a real network of industry professionals, but the fact that there are multitudes of accounts aboard Twitter leads me to believe that it’s not a misreading and that it’s you and Tom and a gash from the ever-classy Prince. Correct me if I’m wrong as it was a Hundred Years’ War ago, but I remember talking and writing about The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and my obsession with that masterpiece and its magical realism. At no point, however, did I informally mention that I wished for a website that could take the likeness of me and my sisters and turn us into target practice cardboard cutouts. I would have remembered that. The material that he borrows (steals) is from the unsuspecting public, which makes it seem like Twitter attracts more accounts and users than they actually do because it’s just him lifting photos from other sites without permission and affixing revenge-streaked names on them—an underhanded business acumen. NDA protections, I thought, meant confidentiality where I’m concerned and I didn’t know he could undermine contracts by spying or directly communicating with me or engage in idiotic written exchanges about his hired wife being a trendy slut.

As that technological maxim goes: what the fuck?

In case you downplay my concerns as melodrama, here are instances of your CEO, the avenging crackpot, slicing Tom Cruise and me on the wild region of Twitter where you can oversee him at any time. Prince Harry’s boyish knife porn fantasies, which are not a thing, ever, at all: HatchyArt, SharpyHarpy, Stablix, StableDavis, Stabyourself, InappropriatelyStabby, Knifegogo, WifeKnife, KnifeSpitter, KnifeSlip, KnifeCenter, CrackCancer1, CrackSniffer, CrysKnife, Hackgirl Club, BladeoftheSun, Blade Lust, Swordcrossed, RomeoBlade, Razorblade Romance, BuffyBlade, BladeRide, Bladerider, Blade Train, BladeBanditPro, BladeSteezy, NicoBlade, Nico STAB,  NicosTab, EASTCUT, Keira Bloodheart which could be anybody, Blood Raw AKA, Spearatics, SpikedKnives, Sunshine Stabwound, TheVagentlemen, Woodasavage, KidsKubed, Bedroom Kandi, Knife or Daniel, baconblade, knifefucker, knifesucker, knifesurfer, Feral Fawcett (pedophile lineage) and his own coded sentences from scratch: i hate this fucking knife so much, why is all this sympathy a fucking knife, the girl who fucks knives, kittyhouseknife, did sucking dick make you this retarded, what is a knife if not an emergency dildo.

Anyone want to give Prince Harry Mountbatten-Windsor the Pulitzer Prize for achievements in journalism, arts and letters? The Ernst & Young Entrepreneur of the Year Award in hysterical irony? How about another NAACP Image Award to Harry & Meghan like you did in 2022?

Perhaps less obvious is the chain reaction to his nuanced monologues, messaging, appeals and threats in decade 4. I’m writing, of course, about murder and suicide. On September 24 of this year, in Austin Texas, Youree Kang, 34, stabbed his wife, Hannah Kang, to death and then killed himself. She was only 25. His last social media post, a day before the killing was: “I’m terrified of what’s going to happen to me because everyone is instilling fear in me. I can never give her her precious life back.” To the credit of People Magazine, they devoted an article on it, re-printing the circumcision of intimate language because every coarse word from the husband is characteristically identifiable as Henry Windsor. Here: https://people.com/austin-murder-suicide-youree-hannah-kang-concerning-facebook-posts-8721803

How’s the carousel of apathy within Twitter’s Board of Directors over the shooting at the Abundant Life Christian School in Madison, Wisconsin this week by 15 year-old shooter, Natalie Samantha Rupnow? She had an interest in online forums that promote neo-Nazi ideology and neo-Nazi violence. Harry famously wore an armband symbol of hate to a birthday party in 2005. At 40-years-old, his decorum is still old-school, using a Twitter account called MaziNews. I don’t post uppercase shouting, racism, violent cartoons, manipulated military instruction, daring stunts, sexual mischief, half-zipped photographs, GIFs or flashy videos depicting little boys and girls, physical violence or mental anguish; Harry does. The niche marketing of Twitter in Harry’s control is to instigate teens and young people who have a media fixation—drawn towards his avenging ideas, his unjustifiable aggression and predator-prey desires—and to force physical confrontations so that Tom appears evil.

Twitter has become an algorithmic self-promotion catalogue for Harry’s propagandized marriage, his revenge against a movie star, and his erotic-chaste defense for stabbing someone repeatedly. Is that company policy in alignment with your ideals, Biz? Good to know. I don’t think employees or bosses elsewhere are encouraged to fulfill their crusades of vengeful extermination in their cubicles or at their cash registers.

In the parlance of visual and literary projection from the not-me innocent nobleman, Prince Harry reveals himself in a common aesthetic. This was never the intention for Twitter, to integrate a personal vendetta of British royalty as full subjecthood. Your baton-tossing remarried elderly Father should’ve advised you to bow out a long time ago. A few splayed out accounts that he opened with strangers’ profile pictures that he stole from other websites in an homage to Bring Your Dad to Work Day: ChucksBasement. CharlesCarson. CharlesFucker. FuckerCharles. CharlieJHiscock. CharlieCoks. CharlieSneako. CharlieFrost. CharliePed1. ChxrlieGold. CharlieKillen. CharlieGilkey. Charliethend. CharliePryor. CharlieKillron. CharlesVeveer. CharlesSchott. CharlesJonas. CharlesRyder. Chucky238. CharlesVaneker. CharlesCalvin. Chuckie Fick. CharlesKevinHod. CharlesWeber. CharlesVoon. CharlesVagner. CharlesVatinel. CharlesVoort. Chucksters. Chuckawuck. Chuckychuckdgaf. ChuckyIsReal. Chuckie56454302. Charles Wing. Charles K. Wing. Charles Wung. CharredKing. DKingsDaughter. TheKingsDaughter. ObengKing. CharCubedRedux. DaddyBackwood. DaddyChaser4U. Daddydick4U. Daddychuck50. Chuck E Chuckson. TheCharlyGirl. xKingCharles. Chuckles Mcknuckles. RoyalKraken. KiingCHAOS. XxKiingCHAOSxX. On wide-ranging twitter pages dedicated to his 76 year-old father, Prince Harry writes like the clean-living, happily-married, boy scout he never was: Hole-fucking is great fun. Glory hole madness. Fresh boy milk. Cock full of protein. If you’re my real friend you’ll fuck my girl. These daughters have made us proud.

It is at the point at which even topics as politics and celebrity; character and education, have an aura of sickness. His coded illegible words are not inked on the inside of a teacup. He incites that small world of people that don’t agree with him, which is everyone. On November 1st of this year, a New York mother, Chianti Means, 33, crossed over a safety guard rail and intentionally went over Niagara Falls, killing herself, along with her two extremely young children, a 9 year-old and a 5-month-old. Chianti is an Italian red wine and it means something extra indelicate in Henry Windsor code. Twitter, the company, its chief financial officers, and Twitter executives, care only about economic mobility and not the nobility who is to blame for murder and suicide.

To witness you call out the actors, TJ Miller and Jared Leto to the general public isn’t fun. In wildly inappropriate language, you’ve accused them both of everything from on-set bullying to being full-blown perverts to sexual assaulting. Why? Why them? One is an Oscar winner who sings in Thirty Seconds to Mars. You’ll never be invited to the Oscars, let alone devote such elevated commitment to a movie role worthy enough to receive one. The other is a Silicon—Ah. The smart television show about highflying tech programmers. Revealing some of your secrets. Then, after a lightning-quick groupthink, another reason for TJ: betting pool says it’s the man you’ve hated since Trudeau o’clock. Not a superhero storyline fan? So ruin the career of his costar with rapey stuff. Makes sense. TJ was absent in the recent Deadpool & Wolverine film, I’m guessing, because of troubling allegations. I have screengrabs.

I couldn’t help but notice your crotch-out 2024 Holiday card in the soft, mocking tones of I want to fucking hurt you. Feliz Navidad. The rollicking supervised foursome doesn’t live together in Montecito, California. Fake humanitarian poses, even one from a bedridden position. The card suits you both. Surprised you settled on her stage name and not something from the affectionate wifey department at Twitter like MeghanComstock, MedievalWhore, MediocreSlut, AFairySlut, Slutchess, Duchess Gummybuns, ThighJob, or H4rrysWhore.

You’re divorced from real life. I want you publicly divorced and internally downgraded at Twitter.

K

Her deleted Insta.

A koffee tin of somebody hounded and ruined by her husband but who; Crate & Barrel & Leashes; one year before she’d date him:

But did his own wife know of saw-cut plans; Long Story Short: yes. Meghan’s theater of sharp curation:

 Newspaper clippings, a Dr. Zeus book title:

Crumbly bread:

Bundled wooden cutting board:

Schoolboy’s belt shield, my digitized circle but a real Getty Image, googleable:

I can’t believe I have to say this: Stop sexualizing your 9 year-old niece; he’s tagging her private parts:

Seven-year-old Charlotte yawning; her Uncle types it so that users interpret it as oral sex, with nearby George’s cupped hands:

The Windsor Family has been sexualizing me and my sisters via the media for four decades now.

The menses cycle of print right back atcha:

Why did you delete this? The infantry at Twitter has been useless; Uncle Harry is Princess Charlotte’s flesh peddler; she’s 9:

Teen Voguing, one day before the royal Bonnie and Clyde wedding:

Their own Archewell Production company and Boardwalk Pictures make real-life horseback films about a young girl’s rape, the firstly POLO doc:

I was sixteen when they made the film, Pretty Woman, but the happy couple already know that:

Harry’s filmmaking skills to good use, it must have been love:

Violence against my archaic ex-boyfriend and Twitter co-founder:

How can I be sure it’s a violent, feuding Prince Harry and a blond Isaac; knife and rape threats, Biz, knife and rape:

Harry's take on my so-called lie; Jared’s not a pedophile:

On Jared’s official account, Harry’s death threats the year his award-winning film, Dallas Buyers Club, was released:

Still threatening and defaming in 2022 over an underage girl:

TJ’s not a pedophile; Harry’s pied piper flute notes of wanting Sicilian too-young sex; his voyeurism on "Silicon Valley" —https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6lzI8rQG7Kw

One month after his Bonnie and Clyde wedding, I guess Prince Harry writes a fitting eulogy on TJ’s twitter page:

Harry as spiteful, vexed non-artist:

Numbskull Harry’s raw vengeance in Disney skeletal structure:

Feminine-pool, Ryan adjacent:

Cannes opener of rape trash talk, one day before his wedding:

Steak knife thrust:

21 jump cut; bee sting is Harry’s:

Goading Twitter users with his bubbly confession that causes family murder-suicide over waterfalls:

When it’s a quasi-governmental tweet, it’s still racist, rapist, and personal; a Britannica gent:

One is a violently gimmicked pedophile who wants to enact a rape proxy whilst in a matrimonial business plan; the other is Tom Cruise:

Divorce.

[lavelled]

I read that President Barack Obama headlined the Obama Foundation 2024 Democracy Forum in Chicago over the weekend, inspiring new leaders and positive change with his classic elocution to urge people not to abandon their convictions but welcome diverse opinions across party lines. I’m more interested in why President Obama didn’t invite a prince of excellence, a living genius.

Why didn’t he invite Harry? September 11? Sandy Hook? Rape decades? Alan Bennett Krueger? Alan, an esteemed labor economist and Harvard grad, advised two presidents and served in the Obama administration as an assistant secretary of the Treasury for Economic Policy from 2009 to 2010 and was the 27th chair of the White House Council of Economic Advisers from 2011 to 2013. He devoted much of his research to the impact of a minimum wage, arguing that it should be higher and that it wouldn’t slow hiring or productivity. He was listed in the 50 highest ranked economists in the world, received accolades and awards and was a fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. On March 16, 2019, at 58 years-old, he killed himself in Princeton, New Jersey, leaving behind a wife and two children.

To past and present Twitter CEOs and Board of Directors and general counsel, Jack Dorsey, Evan Williams, Richard William Costolo, Parag Agrawal, Omid Kordestani, Patrick Pichette, Bret Taylor, Ned Segal, Leslie Berland, Sean Edgett, Vijaya Gadde, the firm Union Square Ventures and others:

Hi. Twitter is the cryptowinter of my discontent. Your social networking site was once described by someone within as, “It’s almost a teenager. And it’s not a very healthy teenager. It says mean things. It attacks women and people of color.” That’s not accurate in December 2024. That, I’m using air quotes, quotable is mild badmouthing from a compliant convent worker who stumbled upon one quiet mouse in the church darkness and said nothing, almost happily. Your news service has become a non-vital mud-cooler paddling cesspool of underage female genital mutilation, or FGM, for short. The highly touted social strategy of Twitter by fleshbot Prince Harry Windsor is extracted from the razzmatazz it takes to somehow rape-fuck a sleeping, unconscious tween with a doily dildo in the shape of a knife. Is that codespeak enough for you? In a castle cubicle is your CEO, typing kink friendly, not kid-friendly, declarations of chop and peel with absolute authority.

I get how an entire work team could miss the dirtied coal mine Xymposium wasteland graphics. Twitter is the guillotine of baroque art. There needs to be a demotion. Vocal protest. Punishment. Or is vagina hacking something that Twitter investors prefer on their gilded masthead? Take for instance his one-way conversations, for the purpose of riling up Twitter users by calling them entitled with audacity meaning they are tied and leashed, is always of pedophilia output and goes something like this: “How old are you?” His reply to his own question: “I’m teen sex old.” His favorite phrase, possibly in his rape memoir, is “slut me out.” He truly distinguishes himself by admitting that he’s into “mixen business” and his sexuality is “eating a lollipop.” He is a self-described mastertwat who incriminates himself most of the time by writing in Old English. Ironic since his quill stays dipped below female legal age.

The freewheeling constellations of rape-legitimizing accounts where he feasts on the violent end of Tom Cruise and I are not muted, privatized or even deleted, so resources—humans, that’s you people—can eavesdrop on him at any time and invoke disciplinary corrective action to protect the domain where policymakers rely on the dissemination of international affairs. His canvas cutlery ranges from cat herding to a tomato-flavoured hatchet. Nobody at Twitter says anything. The English gentleman writes: HairyCutter, Prince Chopstixxx, The Hacksmith, PornKunt, UnrulyPorn, RickUncut, ZenThornPorn, ZenGrey, tweenhearts, goblinz, Sk5teBlade, release the fuckcut, Fuck Cut Calling Me So Early Fo, Mannnnn what the fuck cut his ass I’m sick, Don’t let the prudes mislead you Jane Austen’s work is full of sex, If you’re not a whore, you can see the door, a 5 star slut, I just caught a gusher from sliding down my throat and choking me I’m confused on how I did it, but I did, chunky fila (his dad) chunky artz (his dad), Maddie Citadel, SicilyVee, DMVBarbershop, VadeBeatz, VadeChather, Vadact, enjoying a slice of carrot, it’s time to chop carrots, nice little fennel and carrot salad, an American-sized slice of carrot cake, I must chop cake this December, It’s only Day 2 of this carb cut, marbley cake, Buncake9, Jimbo Slice, Alan Iceblade, Puckside, Axe Hallow, Axel Pond, Knifecat, Vaginapalooza, riptidemamba, dickfax, Daddydi65501944, Bloodwing, bloodweave, bloodbadge, bloodpussy, bloodvam, Bloodwrit, and Daniel Bloodworth.

Does TechCrunch want to hire him for a conference? How about a webinar on the parallels of style and subject to Prince Harry Windsor and The Wall Street Journal reporter, Daniel Pearl, who was lured and kidnapped on January 23, 2002 in Pakistan for what he thought would be an interview and executed by beheading on February 1st of that year? Does society need more sidewalk gunshot ambushes, high towers collapsing, school shootings or suburban family annihilation?

On August 13, 2018 Christopher Watts murdered his pregnant wife and two toddler daughters, disposing of their bodies in shallow graves and submerging them in oil tanks like trash. Three months after the Meghan Markle and Henry Windsor wedding fakeness. In Frederick, Colorado, American oil field operator Christopher Lee Watts strangled his pregnant wife, Shanann, and his two daughters with his bare hands, then dumped them in gruesome crude oil storage tanks, through a hatch at the top. The little girl corpses had scratches on their buttocks from being shoved through the receptacle not meant for human containment. Chris Watts was sentenced to five life sentences with no possibility of parole. This has Prince Harry’s quilted undertones, like all tragedies. Netflix, a company he calls Netfucks01 and NuttFreaks, made a documentary about the evil crime, American Murder: The Family Next Door. Knickerbockerglory is the production company in Hammersmith, London, England that produced it. Why would a British production company near Queens Wharf, created on February 28, 2011, be so interested in a Weld County, Frederick, Colorado familicide, feticide, child murder case in oil field America?

This is more than untwisting Harry’s code of nimble balletics. It’s more than telling you that his olly-cut olive branch verbosity, meaning unripened fruit or cheese, is something the press has printed for 30 years of my life. It’s more than his orc that he stole from Middle-earth fantasy fiction or his slimer-green pedo socks or his vulgar thoughts which mean vulva thoughts. It’s more than his rants that veer sharply into skewering facts through machismo to increase the fever of celebrities who have watched me grow up at a tethered distance and regular folk whom feel powerless. It’s the whole enterprise of disregarding the human tragedy that House of Windsor has caused. Someone show me the heart, brains and authenticity you get when you hire Harry and Meghan, who script-read bedlocked statements in promotion, publicity and merchandising appearances. If you give less attention to a scuzzy rapist and his wife, they’ll divorce.

Prince Harry, the man often highlighted with recognition or reward, is a pedophile in his own right and wants to stab my private parts as revenge for a vehicular chase, under pressure from his daddy. Everyone knows. People around you know it. People tend to notice when you festoon the machete rapist Duke with microphones and red carpets while they await emancipatory reality. Prince Harry was listed among the 2024 TIME Magazine 100 Climate index on November 12th. I get the climatic irony and I say to myself, whatever the fuck. Prince Harry, Twitter CEO, wrote on a website with lawmakers, “Mint young harlot in and out of chap-fallen underwear amateur squirter” — want to hire Harry as a guest editor on the special issue of social justice? You should watch a documentary about two strangled little girls, Time Magazine press room.

Although an ordinary thing to tech savants, I found subcultures on Twitter other than that Grandpacore, all starched in his prose. Over the years, Harry must have noticed that women have posed in selfies wearing pantyhose and affixed these personal photographs to their Instagram that he then absconded and posted in Twitter columns, rebranding them with his overlord, sick-root, literary vigilantism. I think the women are telling him to go to hell and release the contract girl and he posts their photographs with lighthearted threats about not being able to talk about my eventual rape. I didn’t know this was a thing. Horse hoes hose hog, entrapment, wrapped, tights, shiny, lace, fishnet, encasement. Harry’s favorite thread of conversation in taupe and black.

A selection from Harry’s accounts where he scolds the subjects of feminist self-exhibition: Hosed UK Wife, Pretty Polly Legs, Leggy Lawyer, Hannah Stocking, Pantyhose Cheerleader, Gaby Nylons, Kelli Xylon, 11 Percent Elastene, Italian Pantyhose Lover 80, Nylon Stunners, Pantyhose Eggs, Sheer Tex, Shearhose, The Rose Bliss, Panty Shower Teen, The Nxked Doll and Hairy Body Stocking 1. Which could be anybody. But sometimes you never really know. How Harry Windsor, useless earth specimen, knows so much about women’s hosiery, including textile, tells you all you need to know about his convoluted marriage, his degree of workplace autonomy and his dedication to rape. Is it legal to re-post photographs in a bunch of gainful profit twittering pixels?

The most essential aspect of the pantyhose culture is that in Jackson, Michigan, Allen Stanford Champion, 41, strangled Nancy Thomas, 59, to death with a pair of pantyhose during an argument on October 29, 2021. Among other distinctions, he has red hair and rosemary and reaper tattoos.

Kate Middleton. Online Harry calls her: Catholic Middle. I’ve always liked Kate and her family. I’m only using strongly-worded reporting to prove that Prince Harry, as Twitter CEO, will use anyone nearest him to push an incubating rape plan. The hand-built accounts that have her likeness are as follows: Slutty Katee, Hot Upskirt Kate Gallery, Catie Turner Slug Drinking Water, Queen of Degeneracy, Throat Goat Kay, Keira Middleton which could be anyone, Ella Fiddleton, Eden Middleton, Madty Middleton, Daisy Middleton, Cake Middleton, Let them eat cake (Middleton), Can’t Middleton, Medix Kate Your most sensual doctor, Kate Middleton is an anagram of naked tit model, his words. I wonder if she’d roll her eyes or be devastated to know that her name, her regal title, her young children are being borrowed by a deeply troubled cyber assailant. I wonder if Twitter bigwigs would punish you or hold you liable for using Kate and underage Charlotte on the basis of sex for a perverted rapey site-gag without permission.

Why does Prince William support Aston Villa? | That Peter Crouch Podcast Video on YouTube. Go to YouTube, search for that video, with 1.9 million views on the BBC Sounds channel. 54 seconds in. Speaking of emails, Will says, as he delivers mic’d up soundbites of common Irish-born schooling, there’s a knock at the door in which he retrieves two plates of curry in the role of housework. Then, in an olive green shirt, he guffaws over the discounted devalue of someone. The video is from 4 years ago, when a female like me is past her expiration date for something or other of her own choosing. It IS humorous, Will. The ongoing erasure of a young woman and her streamlined educated dreams, her chance at marriage and motherhood, a normal life, any life. I’m glad you find levity in this situation.

Prince Harry, a manchild of two faces, one for the public and one for a dicey encounter, loyal only to his daddy whom little girls were not writing to by lantern light, is a profiteer and conniver of past accidental events. In supercomputer microaggressions that lead to everyday gun violence and, fittingly, with his wife, who could have obtained payments and babies with somebody else but said I Do to the bachelor connected to September 11, Sandy Hook, a Marathon explosion, Parkland and an Orlando nightclub shooting, he scrawls red ink on Twitter like the well-intentioned machine he isn’t, constructing his starlight spiel with butcher shop talk. His job becomes career-ending for some and life-ending for others, including me. What constitutes grounds for job termination? Copycat crimes? He’s overdue.

I have screengrabs from the ominous clouds of Twitter and a useless Meghan. The person Harry calls Megnutt, a seduchess. I don’t think they’re in love. Divorce.

K

The TIG’s California sushi rolled knowledge of rhapsody husband: 

Heightened state, sugar high:

Duchess promoting book about three generations of an Irish family in New York two years before dating him; Who's afraid of little old me:

Customized Nutella, she knew of genital mutilation prior to nuptials. Zoom in on the “a.” It’s Harry’s watermark. He deleted her social media only to upload a chunk of it to aggravate and cause suicide:

Rats riot gear in teen corner:

2021 Sussex Holiday Card, nutmeg lies, firsties, ripped jean thread:

All posts authored by Prince Harry.

Prince Archie, horny at 5 years-old:

Prince Louis, horny at 6 years-old:

Princess Charlotte, sexualized by her Uncle:

Princess Charlotte likes big dick at 9. That seems young:

Princess Charlotte, pimped by ginger Uncle:

 Harry’s unique diction for his sister-in-law:

 Duchess auditions on the pelvic floor, shadows:

She knew all her life what he was doing to me. She married him and became his helper anyway. I don’t want a mixed reception on the red carpet. I want a divorce:

Paper jam of rape:

Netflix love lies, off-roading revenge:

Jocular Netflix POLO documentary of hilarious rape; Miloš Balać: Polo means solo or first at cracking:

Harry, foiled magazine guest editor:

Drill team:

Actor Dean Norris didn’t write this; misplaced punctuation is Harry’s slicing revenge:

Monica Lewinsky didn’t write this; the punctuation is six times, clock is seventeen, which is Harry’s retroactive chopping; two months after the Meghan & Henry wedding:

Charles, the original Pedo King:

Se7en Deadly Strings, Harry’s yellowed cranium circles:

Jack Dorsey is a sexual predator; it’s right there in print, with a dot; Jack Patrick Dorsey, a paedo:

A silent Prince is stalking all women:

Upon his lectern, Hannibal:

Blades of glory:

Twitter: ask an agent cousin who these two little girls are:

Twitter: dot matrix printer of my beating and rape:

Twitter: this is his royally sage death threats taken UP a notch:

Divorce.

[lavelled]

I listed five children under the age of 17 who killed themselves right after a honeymooned visit to their part of the world, and in news rotation Team Meghan Markle gave me Thanksgiving gizzard press with homemaker holiday plans like their client fills some sort of aproned traditional role.

She was an available entity of smiling obediency. Her Instagram is full of her decades-old introduction to the infectious disease specialist responsible for the little pieces of folded paper known as the World Trade Center and Sandy Hook and whom she gripped the bed rails with.

Prince Harry’s lunatic press of outrage included a German documentary that supposedly exposes the couples’ elitist California lifestyle, a golden state where the royal couple has never lived together, his neverending olive branch extension which is family code for unripened fruit, his Botswana date of bunk beds, which news sources deduced as firsties so that was vetted and well-buried, and, finally, her patently bad American Riviera Orchard tip jar problems.

What a tizzy.

To past and present Twitter CEOs and Board of Directors, Jack Dorsey, Evan Williams, Richard William Costolo, Parag Agrawal, Omid Kordestani, Patrick Pichette, Bret Taylor and others: On the scrapheap of what is his Twitter workload, Prince Harry operates chopped-off accounts that philosophically rationalize royal-blue cutting that he calls Indigo Club and where he mentions the DreamHack Atlanta festival and where he pens sentences like “wow i really need to be rough fucked.” He threatens me with female genital mutilation, usually on that date of September 11 in which absolutely nothing of interest happened. He displays vocal writing in V-heavy accounts such as: Vade, VaperRed, VenomBitch19, VeetaVenom, InfectedByVenom, Grape Lady, Grape Nuts, Haznoballs, Hattrickz69 and the fetishization of a May–December subcult romance where there are photos of elderly men French kissing female youth in a curricula he calls findom.

I’m sure you’ve read such encoded hieroglyphic writing as: that middle of the night sex, i miss lying to Old Country Buffet about my age, reins to put this whore in her place, solid axle, zip zies, herb back, huge gaping, Kidnoble, Fred Scarf, mirror is minor, raisins is rape, grape-tinis, Valronica Holmes, Skull Reaper Ninja and his go-to phrase: sugar-free. I don’t recall the movie, Jerry Maguire, making me feel sexually assaulted the way simply reading Twitter print does.

This is the same all-hours-accessible superiority platform where Presidents, Prime Ministers, the Pope, the Dalai Lama, CIA Directors, NASA, entrepreneurs, activist groups, media influencers, fashion, sport and music leaders all sincerely post notifications from time to time? Ah’s from the crowd.

Prince Harry, the feverish tech worker in a camo outfit under the duvet cover of Elon Musk, is not one to hide his sadism and boasts of minor ownership by explicitly stoking racial tensions online with the n-word and advertises his plans for enemy slaughter in emotional snippets. But in case you failed to notice through what is a blend of respectful indifference, imagined jailing, and signatory compliance—he has a tendency to use your social networking site as his personal vendetta headquarters, posting pictures of non-consenting young girls that he must steal from other sites so that Twitter becomes an unzipped carcass of pedophilia, repurposed for his revenge phrasebook against me and Tom and that part of humankind that wants him underground. With minimal effort, his language echoes like a loudspeaker to your most receptive audience: children.

I have justifiable doubts that this man should be allowed to mingle freely among dogs, children, elderly and the infirm, businesspeople and symbols of authority, prominent members of the entertainment industry, not to mention being the one in charge of relaying domestic and foreign policy at midnight on a meme and video-sharing website where he writes like a child desperately wanting to fuck a child at internet speed. The man tweeted during his own wedding simulation.

Harry’s deep desires to cut human flesh are not confined to botnet computational resources. He spreads his slicing message everywhere—during his dramatic child visitations, his first-rate Netflix propaganda, his primetime interviews, his speeches, his charities, his school days at Eton, his big lie of isolated life in Montecito, a place where Meghan and Harry have never lived, his trips to Las Vegas as he did in February 2024 to present the Walter Payton Man of the Year Award at the NFL Honors right after concocting the lie about his pedophile father’s fake prostate cancer, in a half-ironic tone, to inform athletic citizenry of his possession of the lower parts of the human body. Must be an artform because he’s been able to stay rich for 4 decades while I’ve had nothing.

His spearheading campaign differs from artists, actors, chefs, writers, musicians, athletes, politicians, journos: nobody else threatens me or society with a coffinmaker existence and a violent sexual assault.

Prince Harry, a red-eyed hoodlum who took a Twitter blueprint and raped it during a breakfast rush, serves as universal writer for entertainment folk when they need self-promotion and when they don’t. Like a movie projector of the worst racist, rapist, homophobic lamenting, right next to your employable name. Harry’s a late-­night talkative guy in rapid cuts and jumps. His high school cafeteria pizza writing has ruined careers, including mine, but he gets movie deals.

I must emphasize that when a celebrity is kicked to the curb, so to speak, they’re still way better off than the regular worker bee. It’s a community that I had hoped and dreamed to be a part of upon graduation, but I have to admit that Hollywood’s lack of accuracy when depicting real marginalized people is often due to their own enclosed luxurious lifestyles. But Harry is sick and purposefully writes like a feral animal about a little girl in a body bag and that’s not fair.

Jussie Smollett. Harry has used his account to compose personal messages of forcible sex like a jukebox stuck on one screaming refrain. A substantial chunk of idiotic time has been spent instigating Jussie and I have no idea why. Since 2010. Harry wrote the tweet: “Fuck rapists, sexual predators and the sick fucks who protect them” six years ago, which is Harry wanting us to do the innocuous chaste flip, but, really, it’s his sex–centric pitch for the girl trapped in handwritten paperwork who says no. He fakes sensitivity, seething through gritted teeth at Tom, writing right into a textual web of rape. Add to it that his sister, the actress, Jurnee, rhymes with my sister’s name and who Harry has used penmanship on, meaning Tom, though some guys, protective brothers of sisters, don’t see it as riding-high-with-swords frolic against a well-defended man. They see it for what it is. Rape. Jussie has probably felt like a cohort in abuse. I have screengrabs.

People who know the origins of my studious blockade hate Harry, and here’s Meghan Markle, slow on the uptake, with proof that she did show revulsion toward Henry Windsor, climbed up the ranks alongside the sordid lineage famous for burying a promising young woman; married the man at the helm of it; gushed about procreation in the face of my greatest misfortune; quoted other people’s speechwriting at summits and unearned award ceremonies—and my evidence somehow hasn’t resulted in a divorce. Team Meh, if you’re honestly listening, the man she calls a doting father wrote, “Slushie isn’t my cup of tea” because he wants to fuck a child and not her.

Lorena Bobbitt severed her husband’s penis on June 23, 1993 after he allegedly raped her. I’m in no way condoning severed appendage mutilation, and both were eventually acquitted, but the 23 birthday number and repetitive 3 dates are interesting and in all the counties that it could go to trial, the prosecution was from Prince William County. Meaning, perhaps, only one side of the contract has wanted me lifeless, held back, distanced, hurt, scarred and maimed. But who?

Kellie Pickler’s husband, songwriter Kyle Jacobs, killed himself with a self-inflicted gunshot on February 17, 2023 in Nashville. 17. Actress Ricki Lake’s ex-husband, Christian Evans, killed himself with a self-inflicted gunshot in his car on February 11, 2017. 17. Karel Heřmánek, a Czech actor, appearing in more than forty films killed himself with a self-inflicted gunshot at a shooting range this past August. He was born on October 17. Benjamin Vautier was a French visual artist born in Italy known for the artwork, Introspection Truth Art & Sex. At 88 years-old, he recently shot himself. Petra Mathers was a German-born award-winning writer and illustrator of more than 40 children’s books. She died by suicide on February 6, 2024 at 78 years-old. It was a double suicide with her husband, architectural photographer, Michael Mathers. Petra donated her artwork to a museum in Amherst, Massachusetts. In a police photo of her writing and reading nook that has since become enshrined in my brain, there is a theatrical Playbill, watercolor pencils, a hardcover book by British novelist, Anita Brookner, and a beige typewriter.

The House of Windsor is a trio of great evil that buried a young woman they said to have loved, and then used her as a pawn against an enemy when they realized the world wasn’t sympathizing with their extreme victim act.

If Twitter was a reputable company with a human resources department in charge of monitoring personnel fleshing out his hatchet rapist agenda with all kinds of repercussions, Harry’s earnings (and yours) wouldn’t be connected to rape, murder, child suicide, and school shootings and he’d be forced to reevaluate his life choices. Account self-purging isn’t enough in 2024.

The Prince Harry and Meghan Markle marriage is plain torture. Publicly divorce.

K

Princeton 2002 article about rape with an unconscious woman, published by Hegseth, reminiscent of Harry’s proxy:      

TIG booklist, swimming in shark circles:

Her deleted Insta

Flipping pedo manuscript, Better than revenge:

Deleted Insta

Meghan Uteri Markle:

All posts authored by Prince Harry. 

The trio, axx hat’s green onesie, Billy’s clamp:  

Princess Charlotte is 9:

Princess Charlotte is 9:

Philandering fossil collage, 17 thousand followers:

91-year-old Senator Charles Grassley did not write this tweet about skull bashing revenge, Prince Harry did:

Harry’s weak crown of violence on behalf of a pedo King: 

Harry explores revisionist history in a haze:

Sarah doesn’t tweet about actively agreeing with child molestation; Harry wrote it:  

Harry sponsors passive-aggressive rape dawdling on T-Pain’s account:

I have no idea why Harry would tag Jussie Smollett with a Duchess Meghan nudism disturbance: 

Non-consenting sex with minors, this tweet by Harry was originally in Danish: 

Reverse psychology by a royal sociopath:

78-year-old British actor, Timothy James Curry, did not write this tweet about cutting cake:

Firepits of cutting:

I don’t think actor, Armie Hammer, is cannibalistic after all:

Tyler, The Creator didn’t write this, but 8 million people looked at it:

Loveless Nest:

Birthing Pangs, Feminism:

Harmonizing for money:

Prince Harry was a speaker at 2024 DealBook Summit in New York on December 4, the only policy news book he has penned is about non-consenting containment and rape. UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson was fatally shot outside a Manhattan hotel on Dec 4. This is what you hire:

Stop interviewing this NDA red-taped couple:

POLO, another Netflix film by non-filmmaker and rapist Prince Harry, shown here, orgasmic, riding a little middle-aged writer girl who says no:

Grim threats what else:

Anime, comma splice, for Twitter kids:

Speaker. Humanitarian. His scissors:

Survey says …

Divorce.

[lavelled]

I listed five children under the age of 17 who killed themselves right after a honeymooned visit to their part of the world, and in news rotation Team Meghan Markle gave me Thanksgiving gizzard press with homemaker holiday plans like their client fills some sort of aproned traditional role.

She was an available entity of smiling obediency. Her Instagram is full of her decades-old introduction to the infectious disease specialist responsible for the little pieces of folded paper known as the World Trade Center and Sandy Hook and whom she gripped the bed rails with.

Prince Harry’s lunatic press of outrage included a German documentary that supposedly exposes the couples’ elitist California lifestyle, a golden state where the royal couple has never lived together, his neverending olive branch extension which is family code for unripened fruit, his Botswana date of bunk beds, which news sources deduced as firsties so that was vetted and well-buried, and, finally, her patently bad American Riviera Orchard tip jar problems.

What a tizzy.

To past and present Twitter CEOs and Board of Directors, Jack Dorsey, Evan Williams, Richard William Costolo, Parag Agrawal, Omid Kordestani, Patrick Pichette, Bret Taylor and others: On the scrapheap of what is his Twitter workload, Prince Harry operates chopped-off accounts that philosophically rationalize royal-blue cutting that he calls Indigo Club and where he mentions the DreamHack Atlanta festival and where he pens sentences like “wow i really need to be rough fucked.” He threatens me with female genital mutilation, usually on that date of September 11 in which absolutely nothing of interest happened. He displays vocal writing in V-heavy accounts such as: Vade, VaperRed, VenomBitch19, VeetaVenom, InfectedByVenom, Grape Lady, Grape Nuts, Haznoballs, Hattrickz69 and the fetishization of a May–December subcult romance where there are photos of elderly men French kissing female youth in a curricula he calls findom.

I’m sure you’ve read such encoded hieroglyphic writing as: that middle of the night sex, i miss lying to Old Country Buffet about my age, reins to put this whore in her place, solid axle, zip zies, herb back, huge gaping, Kidnoble, Fred Scarf, mirror is minor, raisins is rape, grape-tinis, Valronica Holmes, Skull Reaper Ninja and his go-to phrase: sugar-free. I don’t recall the movie, Jerry Maguire, making me feel sexually assaulted the way simply reading Twitter print does.

This is the same all-hours-accessible superiority platform where Presidents, Prime Ministers, the Pope, the Dalai Lama, CIA Directors, NASA, entrepreneurs, activist groups, media influencers, fashion, sport and music leaders all sincerely post notifications from time to time? Ah’s from the crowd.

Prince Harry, the feverish tech worker in a camo outfit under the duvet cover of Elon Musk, is not one to hide his sadism and boasts of minor ownership by explicitly stoking racial tensions online with the n-word and advertises his plans for enemy slaughter in emotional snippets. But in case you failed to notice through what is a blend of respectful indifference, imagined jailing, and signatory compliance—he has a tendency to use your social networking site as his personal vendetta headquarters, posting pictures of non-consenting young girls that he must steal from other sites so that Twitter becomes an unzipped carcass of pedophilia, repurposed for his revenge phrasebook against me and Tom and that part of humankind that wants him underground. With minimal effort, his language echoes like a loudspeaker to your most receptive audience: children.

I have justifiable doubts that this man should be allowed to mingle freely among dogs, children, elderly and the infirm, businesspeople and symbols of authority, prominent members of the entertainment industry, not to mention being the one in charge of relaying domestic and foreign policy at midnight on a meme and video-sharing website where he writes like a child desperately wanting to fuck a child at internet speed. The man tweeted during his own wedding simulation.

Harry’s deep desires to cut human flesh are not confined to botnet computational resources. He spreads his slicing message everywhere—during his dramatic child visitations, his first-rate Netflix propaganda, his primetime interviews, his speeches, his charities, his school days at Eton, his big lie of isolated life in Montecito, a place where Meghan and Harry have never lived, his trips to Las Vegas as he did in February 2024 to present the Walter Payton Man of the Year Award at the NFL Honors right after concocting the lie about his pedophile father’s fake prostate cancer, in a half-ironic tone, to inform athletic citizenry of his possession of the lower parts of the human body. Must be an artform because he’s been able to stay rich for 4 decades while I’ve had nothing.

His spearheading campaign differs from artists, actors, chefs, writers, musicians, athletes, politicians, journos: nobody else threatens me or society with a coffinmaker existence and a violent sexual assault.

Prince Harry, a red-eyed hoodlum who took a Twitter blueprint and raped it during a breakfast rush, serves as universal writer for entertainment folk when they need self-promotion and when they don’t. Like a movie projector of the worst racist, rapist, homophobic lamenting, right next to your employable name. Harry’s a late-­night talkative guy in rapid cuts and jumps. His high school cafeteria pizza writing has ruined careers, including mine, but he gets movie deals.

I must emphasize that when a celebrity is kicked to the curb, so to speak, they’re still way better off than the regular worker bee. It’s a community that I had hoped and dreamed to be a part of upon graduation, but I have to admit that Hollywood’s lack of accuracy when depicting real marginalized people is often due to their own enclosed luxurious lifestyles. But Harry is sick and purposefully writes like a feral animal about a little girl in a body bag and that’s not fair.

Jussie Smollett. Harry has used his account to compose personal messages of forcible sex like a jukebox stuck on one screaming refrain. A substantial chunk of idiotic time has been spent instigating Jussie and I have no idea why. Since 2010. Harry wrote the tweet: “Fuck rapists, sexual predators and the sick fucks who protect them” six years ago, which is Harry wanting us to do the innocuous chaste flip, but, really, it’s his sex–centric pitch for the girl trapped in handwritten paperwork who says no. He fakes sensitivity, seething through gritted teeth at Tom, writing right into a textual web of rape. Add to it that his sister, the actress, Jurnee, rhymes with my sister’s name and who Harry has used penmanship on, meaning Tom, though some guys, protective brothers of sisters, don’t see it as riding-high-with-swords frolic against a well-defended man. They see it for what it is. Rape. Jussie has probably felt like a cohort in abuse. I have screengrabs.

People who know the origins of my studious blockade hate Harry, and here’s Meghan Markle, slow on the uptake, with proof that she did show revulsion toward Henry Windsor, climbed up the ranks alongside the sordid lineage famous for burying a promising young woman; married the man at the helm of it; gushed about procreation in the face of my greatest misfortune; quoted other people’s speechwriting at summits and unearned award ceremonies—and my evidence somehow hasn’t resulted in a divorce. Team Meh, if you’re honestly listening, the man she calls a doting father wrote, “Slushie isn’t my cup of tea” because he wants to fuck a child and not her.

Lorena Bobbitt severed her husband’s penis on June 23, 1993 after he allegedly raped her. I’m in no way condoning severed appendage mutilation, and both were eventually acquitted, but the 23 birthday number and repetitive 3 dates are interesting and in all the counties that it could go to trial, the prosecution was from Prince William County. Meaning, perhaps, only one side of the contract has wanted me lifeless, held back, distanced, hurt, scarred and maimed. But who?

Kellie Pickler’s husband, songwriter Kyle Jacobs, killed himself with a self-inflicted gunshot on February 17, 2023 in Nashville. 17. Actress Ricki Lake’s ex-husband, Christian Evans, killed himself with a self-inflicted gunshot in his car on February 11, 2017. 17. Karel Heřmánek, a Czech actor, appearing in more than forty films killed himself with a self-inflicted gunshot at a shooting range this past August. He was born on October 17. Benjamin Vautier was a French visual artist born in Italy known for the artwork, Introspection Truth Art & Sex. At 88 years-old, he recently shot himself. Petra Mathers was a German-born award-winning writer and illustrator of more than 40 children’s books. She died by suicide on February 6, 2024 at 78 years-old. It was a double suicide with her husband, architectural photographer, Michael Mathers. Petra donated her artwork to a museum in Amherst, Massachusetts. In a police photo of her writing and reading nook that has since become enshrined in my brain, there is a theatrical Playbill, watercolor pencils, a hardcover book by British novelist, Anita Brookner, and a beige typewriter.

The House of Windsor is a trio of great evil that buried a young woman they said to have loved, and then used her as a pawn against an enemy when they realized the world wasn’t sympathizing with their extreme victim act.

If Twitter was a reputable company with a human resources department in charge of monitoring personnel fleshing out his hatchet rapist agenda with all kinds of repercussions, Harry’s earnings (and yours) wouldn’t be connected to rape, murder, child suicide, and school shootings and he’d be forced to reevaluate his life choices. Account self-purging isn’t enough in 2024.

The Prince Harry and Meghan Markle marriage is plain torture. Publicly divorce.

K

Princeton 2002 article about rape with an unconscious woman, published by Hegseth, reminiscent of Harry’s proxy:      

TIG booklist, swimming in shark circles:

Her deleted Insta

Flipping pedo manuscript, Better than revenge:

Deleted Insta

Meghan Uteri Markle:

All posts authored by Prince Harry. 

The trio, axx hat’s green onesie, Billy’s clamp:  

Princess Charlotte is 9:

Princess Charlotte is 9:

Philandering fossil collage, 17 thousand followers:

91-year-old Senator Charles Grassley did not write this tweet about skull bashing revenge, Prince Harry did:

Harry’s weak crown of violence on behalf of a pedo King: 

Harry explores revisionist history in a haze:

Sarah doesn’t tweet about actively agreeing with child molestation; Harry wrote it:  

Harry sponsors passive-aggressive rape dawdling on T-Pain’s account:

I have no idea why Harry would tag Jussie Smollett with a Duchess Meghan nudism disturbance: 

Non-consenting sex with minors, this tweet by Harry was originally in Danish: 

Reverse psychology by a royal sociopath:

78-year-old British actor, Timothy James Curry, did not write this tweet about cutting cake:

Firepits of cutting:

I don’t think actor, Armie Hammer, is cannibalistic after all:

Tyler, The Creator didn’t write this, but 8 million people looked at it:

Loveless Nest:

Birthing Pangs, Feminism:

Harmonizing for money:

Prince Harry was a speaker at 2024 DealBook Summit in New York on December 4, the only policy news book he has penned is about non-consenting containment and rape. UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson was fatally shot outside a Manhattan hotel on Dec 4. This is what you hire:

Stop interviewing this NDA red-taped couple:

POLO, another Netflix film by non-filmmaker and rapist Prince Harry, shown here, orgasmic, riding a little middle-aged writer girl who says no:

Grim threats what else:

Anime, comma splice, for Twitter kids:

Speaker. Humanitarian. His scissors:

Survey says …

Divorce.

[lavelled]

I feel like political aficionados on one team are subliminal messaging me through editorial press. Like censored yes-men are dismayed with this ideological parallel yet underqualified list of left-field cabinet picks. Pete Hegseth, Secretary of Defense. I haven’t been reading too much that convinces me that the government, the Pentagon, would be better off, despite written books and Army veteran status. The hotel allegation in 2017. It's been reported that investigators found the woman had emphasized remembering saying no a lot, he blocked the door with his body, alcohol was involved and she received a financial settlement. That sounds unpleasant:

https://www.npr.org/2024/11/21/nx-s1-5199630/police-report-gives-details-timeline-of-the-sexual-assault-claim-against-pete-hegseth

I’m not a seasoned politician. Back to contemporary events.

Prince Henry.

The world was on edge reading of your tattoo inking, and then sad to learn that singer, Jelly Roll, holding a tattoo needle with such certainty, didn’t tweak a vein-like artery beneath your skin. A hell of a letdown. I’m sure you get that a lot. It was a publicity trick, like your rented courtship, your store-bought wedding, the rise and fall of your tit for tat marriage, your living arrangement, your international humanitarianism, your pleasant and folksy attitude, your female independence female empowerment female self-worth hypocritical noise, your rape book, your exposed Netflix films, award speeches, and the fungus-filled shitting virtual sphere of Twitter.

Log into Twitter and it suddenly clicks that it’s a place where Prince Harry antagonizes little children of all ages, reminding them of a large tatted swath, braids for bxtches, insinuating that they’re neither a rich celebrity nor a recipient of any perks from a non-binding illegal contract of a minor, but they need to keep their mouth sutured nonetheless. You’re Father of the Year. It’s also a place where he etches well-crafted punchlines for celebrity clients that are scrolls of racist, rapist, homophobic and violent uncouth dehumanization so that their careers become a type of casualty. I have no idea why you’re a sought-after TED Talk speaker when BetterUp is a Twitter cover or tactical ruse. Bed-Her. Clever. That is, if you’re a charley horse rising sexpest.

You’re not enlisting a respected professional. He’s the leader behind unruly protests, workplace violence, terrorism, wartime atrocities, kidnapping, and child suicide. He gets paid to type: Too Famous To Be A Pedophile. Lampedo Porn. Pedophile Drip. British Pedoroyal Family. Weepy Soy Pedophile, a bilingual declaration of minored love. His top-paying tech service is to provide Pulitzer gold like: Amen Noir. Daniel Knight. The Upchucks. No Minors HISSS. Steely Dad. Galactic King. Justsome666. Pedo Paige. Hurtcore. This quote: I'd fuck the shit outta her god im lonely. Rapist party-boy hazing at the center of world events became the norm that society accepts and for reasons still unclear is blamed on Elon Musk. One Justin Bieber fan club account labelled Juskin Bieber, he writes: cause the boy is mine, inhaling it, face of an angel, Moneywhore, JB Hooker News, i like celery.

Nobody obeys the criminal cunty ramblings of a vacuous daddy’s boy able to flee persecution by his scores of minders and publicists.

For years, since infancy, you’ve been telling everyone within earshot that your wholesome-looking family will castrate. It’s not a constructive activity for a middle-aged man and requires zero aptitude. You must’ve violated the terms of your Twitter employment contract by now. Presumably, Twitter trends, free content, and goreshit X-graphic layout means complicity in killing your children and rewarding its sole author and CEO with bloodthirsty lighthearted tweets that are covered as news stories. It means life goes on with his high salaries, his Netflix deals, his shiny awards, and his intimate conversations of dishonesty known as journalistic interviews.

To sit idly by and claim a jailed position must be comfy cozy—it’s also a betrayal of good intentions and high-minded ethics. But what can important people do?

Stop interviewing this non-disclosure-wide-sellout couple. I don’t think it’s a breach of contract in the entertainment business. The only information that you’ll be spreading throughout society is that you wish to prevent child suicide. How odious.

Stop hiring him for speeches with headsets and a microphone on the grand stage. The regaling Prince title no longer equates traditional meaningful human worth or prestige in decade 4. Think of the value he contributes. He twists words, phrases and a painful medical condition to promote crowned present-day pink pedophilia ownership. I don’t get the social benefits to the televised buffoonery of a would-be rapist who tweets from hundreds of accounts labelled KD Slut MILF.

Is that what I deserve? After an underwhelming adulthood dissolving into nothingness that I can never humanly reclaim?

At Twitter, Inc. Prince Harry Mountbatten-Windsor, the Duke of Sussex, is a misplaced civilian agitator abusing his position to fight off an absentee movie star by way of algorithms and babbled code in a language structured to hurt me and young students everywhere.

Along with Meghan McCain, who surgically fights off Harry’s bitch-about carved tweets, certain celebrities have been the bullseye for Prince Harry’s most egregious, high-traffic, vitriolic displays of digital retribution. I will never excuse nor defend wife or partner abuse or child abuse and endangerment of any kind. Everybody knows my story, but that doesn’t give anyone special dispensation to act a certain way that is illegal, combative or unsavory. Not saying these actors have committed such acts. I’ve noticed through an unobstructed Internet view, across several platforms, that he has accounts dedicated to Mel Gibson and his derogatory anti-Semitic comments. I find two facts interesting about Mel: his infamous arrest happened in July 2006.

Six. X. Mel Gibson has known for a long time what the House of Windsor’s intentions were for me, physically. I told you that Prince Harry said only months ago that he wanted to live in my attic. Second, out of all the Hollywood movies an Oscar-winning director can direct, he chooses the movie, Hacksaw Ridge. Which was released in 2016. I don’t believe he harbors ill will toward Jewish people and was probably referring to the unfathomable raping proxy clause that you possess and I think he was worried I wouldn’t figure it out. Not to mention that he’s been in the same industry as Tom, my real pen pal, who your family royally knifed in the back.

Interesting that Nora Ephron directed the 1994 movie, Mixed Nuts, a French adaptation. A Manhattan director known for her first-leaf, autumn knit sweater and warm rom-com style decided to up and direct a movie with a genital mutilation innuendo title about a suicide and crisis prevention hotline during Christmas in the 90s.

Comedian and actor, Kevin Hart, was due to host the glitzy Oscars in 2019. Kevin Hart was dropped as Oscar host on December 7, 2018 amid controversy about his past anti-gay tweets. The severity of Kevin’s homophobia on Twitter is repugnant. I’ve read them. Harry wrote them. I have screengrabs. Harry has played the innocent avenging wordsmith locksmith for too long.

I want to mention a trip that Meghan and Harry took in 2018. The 16-day tour was from October 16 to October 31, going to Australia, New Zealand, Fiji and Tonga. Sixes. This vacation took place five months after they fudged a wedding where the groom scheduled the publication of his Tweets via a timer, as if his wedding day was a live “Clue” farce comedy. With sufficient enthusiasm, it was reported that Prince Harry had to go it alone for part of the time in Australia while a pregnant Duchess took time to rest. So let me rephrase, this paid-for couple is advertising honeymooned biological pregnancy gossip one day before the birthday of an unmarried childless careerless middle-aged woman that her red neon husband spy-cam watched online every day aboard Twitter. Add the symbolic geographical location where they visited: Queensland’s Fraser Island, or K’gari, as it is known. I have a screengrab. You are a bar crawl disguised as a royal couple, lacking integrity by way of imitation, capable only of spouting falsehoods that smarter people on your team scriptwrite for you.

Who else noticed the front-page honeymoon vagabond couple: Kids.

Hamuera Ellis-Erihe, 16, from New Zealand killed himself in 2018.

Martin Loeffen-Romagnoli, 15, from New Zealand killed himself in 2018.

Summer Mills-Metcalf, 14, from New Zealand killed herself in 2018.

Maaia Reremoana Marshall, 14, from New Zealand killed herself in 2018.

James Patira Murray, 12, from New Zealand killed himself in 2018.

Tom Cruise has not visited Australia or New Zealand recently with a gimmick wife, declaring a pregnancy over lunchtime tea.

But what can Team Meghan do? What I outlined in 25 blog posts: a public divorce from the rapist pedophile contract manager who calls his hired wife a bronzer skank. That’s one thing.

Divorce.

K

Another TIG booklist, detecting a child entanglement pass, her English avocado dud-in-law: 

I did something bad, she says as she betrays an old hockey loop:

Watered gin epiphany, two years later she’d date him:

Unspoken doghouse flipping:

All posts authored by Prince Harry.

Author Terry McMillan didn’t write it; Prince Harry did, on the hueless morning of his wedding:

Sir Elton John didn’t write of a penetrating wedding that he attended and performed; this was set to post ahead of time on Harry’s Twitter scheduler:

Harry tweeted out 90210 Wendy years ago:

What follows is the artscape section of: is it love?

Kid queasy cartoon:

You’re crotchless Kent:

Car chase obsessed, Netflix lies:

Netflix paid her mother to cry over self-harm folly:

Four decades of cruel hibernation:

Daddy’s red + blue currents:

Armload of teen rubbish, straightly gauze:

Justin was only 16 when Prince Harry wrote it:

Cultured Prince Harry wrote this to a full-height elfin Tom and my triplicate childhood wrestler from once upon a time:

Prince of Wales' authorship at both Brad Pitt and Tom; explains the numerous Pit Stains accounts on Twitter:

There is nothing to do but tweet about little girls who say no, which is code for Kevin Hart should host the 2026 Oscars:

Harry’s pottery blade:

Prince Harry wrote the masked tweet of midnight rape; Matthew Perry passed away two days later:

Prince Harry, pink rouge high school rape:

Twitter: specializing in CEO Prince Harry’s rapist desires:

Twitter CEO, Prince Harry the Sixth, pens twisty teen suicide:

Forestland loving people, heartless couple sticking together:

Divorce.

[lavelled]

I’m striving for that royal babied partnership in the guttered ditch of life to divorce and yet, I have to say, these cabinet White House picks seem controversial and underqualified.

If there was a muscly carnivore no-nonsense congressman born Thomas Vamp Chainsaw Man, you’d nominate him? Stephen Miller, Thomas Homan, Kristi Noem, Matt Gaetz, Tulsi Gabbard, Marco Rubio, Robert F. Kennedy Jr, and Pete Hegseth. All pillars. Most are inexperienced and untested on the global stage. One is accused of espionage. One is described as an immigration border czar. One participated in an ax-throwing contest on live daytime television, missed, and hit a West Point marching band drummer. Two of them have sexual misconduct allegations against them. Rep. Matt Gaetz’s ex-girlfriend testified to the House Ethics Committee that the now-former Florida congressman had sex with her when she was 17, to a GOP-led committee. We believe her. End of story. These appointees require confirmation and a lengthy vetting process, which reminds me: how’s that Pennsylvania Senate Race recount? I’m not a politician like Kamala, someone with the intelligence, temperament, and empathy to grapple voters’ concerns, I had this idea that she’d win, but we need the checks and balances and transparency.

Susan Wiles. She is everybody’s one heck of a great-aunt who elicits strong reactions and doesn’t take any of your guff. I dig it.

But that’s it.

How is Uppity Chuck? In the drafting process of his self-exposure, he uses hashtags: SussexSquad is his faded corruption. GoodKingHarry is leashed dog. ToxicBritishMedia. ToxicBritishPress. I think it means he realizes they've turned on him, back when he was a wee lad in pine-green trousers, touching his nose. The Lady of the Snork is his suitored wife. Kategate Cancer Faker is self-explanatory. Oxygen Thief is Tom Cruise. TopGunCaptainWales is also about Tom Cruise, who still isn’t permanently online. Harry pretends he’s Zambian on several accounts, writing: We will NOT Tolerate Negativities. It’s impossible to tell if Harry’s a piece of shit. To former and current members of Twitter’s board of directors: You allow trust-fund, free-pass Twitter CEO, Prince Harry, on a power line, to re-write the user manual, chide me about career stoppage, our unreciprocated sex, and the total heist of adulthood while coaxing kids and adults to their self-harming deaths. I’ve outlined his abuse—using literary, pictorial, statistical, and absolute fact as evidence.

Inconsolable suicide. Homicide rates. Twitter is an economic network of unsurveilled jailbait.

On the screeds of his Twitter self-promotion—under the printing alias Elon Musk—Prince Harry instigates your children through pushing his aimless Sussex agenda of hate and reminds them they can’t reveal his truths by mentioning a pig or pigeon and claiming that they’re well-fed. In return, he gets peace and prosperity, receives military and parenting awards, Spotify and Netflix deals, and remains famous so that his income is connected to an unconsenting father-daughter relationship, thanks to his minored Dad.

In the bygone days of societal here and now, Harry’s contract of inheritance has never prevented his personal and professional development. The unwritten moral imperative states that he can encourage suicide and violence, be trophied, and remain rich. He has lead or participated in prestigious events, and wifey has remained visible through embellishment, while I’ve had job discrimination and relied on free healthcare as children and celebrities have killed themselves.

With his bed-linen, ranks-climbing sidekick wife, neither of whom has one authentic purpose or true function, they’ve attended award ceremonies, festivals, concerts, conferences, gave thoughtful speeches of scripted bullshit, experienced motherhood and fatherhood and both have had their ghostwritten books published: Her children’s book, The Bench, climbed The New York Times Bestseller list, even though she, California Lifestyle and Travel Blogger, knows full well that it rhymes with fence because it describes Harry’s snipped-off  fencing sword desires toward Tom.

They joined the Global Citizen Live in NYC for musical concerts. They hosted a summit on World Mental Health Day for Mental Wellness in the Digital Age, when she’s NDA-muzzled-expression-mild and unpermitted Internet access and he bullies 9-year-olds. Heart of Invictus, a Netflix documentary following six people competing in the Invictus Games. Live to Lead, a 7-part Netflix film on world leaders making a difference, including the frauding royal duo that executive produced. ESPY Pat Tillman Award for Service. The Hollywood gala of Living Legends of Aviation Awards presented to Harry for becoming a helicopter pilot and a would-be rapist. Meghan won the People’s Choice Award for Best Podcast. Meghan won the Gracie Award for Top Entertainment Podcast Host by the Alliance for Women in Media Foundation. President’s Award at the NAACP Image Awards in recognition of the couple’s achievement and public service. The One805LIVE! Concert where Prince Harry presented an award. Harry and Meghan dined at Vikram Vij’s iconic Vancouver restaurant on February 15, 2024, construed as a tasty yet salt-in-the-wound gesture to Roseanne’s v.j. fireable tweet.

The House of Windsor’s crowned troika insinuates revenge and reparations as if they are the only grown children or husband to ever grieve. But telling Harry over and over he’ll be hardly recognized due to surgery while fulfilling his wishes of needless jobs, confetti invitations, and an amplified microphone is career-long hurtful and fucking awful. I borrow a blog. The sustained blogging can only be effective if important people cease giving them jobs.

You and your opposite fairytale soulmate have caused a great deal of unhappiness for me. You try body neutrality at the UN, but you’re so averse you only show disgust and a visible temper:

https://x.com/RoxanneReaction/status/1549117684255789062

He may delete it, but megxited seems real. Meghan, a for-hire enwombing, tried to bond at the Queen’s funeral, though less than enthused English people responded with a polite ahhh no:

https://x.com/TinkyTink/status/1568645886766358528

As 2018 Tweets reveal, you never wanted to marry. No one is buying your kinship west coast home full of honesty conspiratorial do-gooder bedfuck coupledom. I want a public divorce soon.

During their 2018 wedding, in the temple of Meghan & Harry’s fraud and delusion, he timed certain day-of tweets with his built-in Twitter scheduler that allows users to send single tweets, threads, and bulk through synchronized automated workflow so he could appear as the innocent groom.

I’ve strung together screengrabs of cancel culture celebrity tweets that were all authored by Twitter bigshot, Prince Harry. I’ll show picturesquely. I want to mention Sebastian Kidder, the stepson of WWE Ric Flair, who died three weeks ago at the age of 24 after taking his own life.

Alexander Rogers, 20, a student at Corpus Christi College at Oxford, sustained a severe head injury after falling into the River Thames, intentionally. Jose Bruno Del Rio-Malewski, 33, two weeks ago, was studying for a PhD in biology, jumped off a campus parking garage in front of classmates at the University of Texas. Google these two young men: Who do they look like?

You and your royally adjacent wife have been pretending for 8 years.

Divorce.

K

All posts authored by Prince Harry.

Upside-down pedophilia is pedophilia, rollerderby, royal death, 3 years later she became a duchess, 2015 Instagram:

Downfall of pink pedo mint julep blogging, 4 years later she became a duchess:

Heir-only wedding, living arrangement lies:

Ryan Phillippe didn’t write it; Prince Harry did with his usage of ten lowercase i’s that denote Tom’s demise:

Miranda Hart didn’t write it; Prince Harry did; acclimated time of 5:23 is my birthday plus Tom’s call it what you want fate:

Cinderella:

 Prince Harry ridiculing a famous car chase, scripted Netflix crew:

Prince Harry gets paid to vent Netflix blatant lies:

 X-amount of vicarage fraud during Oprah interview:

Waxing lyrical about store-bought:

 The Pat Tillman Award:

A manspreading affair:

To Have & To Hoax:

No racism, no abuse, no bookclub, no news, no social media, no Internet access:

Jeffree Star didn’t write it; Prince Harry did; pay me will upset with misplaced comma is code for revenge on Tom for his Dad’s 17-year affinity:

Hence, Prince Harry wrote it; King Charles’ major 17-year crush:

Patricia Heaton doesn’t tweet out the homoerotic subtext of 80s movies in her respite from Frasier and her other tv shows; violent hashtag engravings for Tom; sec is sick:

This is what your children deal with:

This is what your children deal with:

In a nutshell, threats from Prince Henry to your children, not middle-aged adults listening to One Direction 10 years ago. Why do you have a penchant for underage girls:

Divorce.

[lavelled]

I should have typed: Kamala. One word. She ran a strong campaign. In unscripted moments. In the one and only debate where it was a prosecutorial job of strategized goals for the country. On not using code to justify xenophobic sentiment toward human citizens. There is nothing wrong with her as the more effective operative—I guess the societal shift is about ancient liar, Prince Harry, on the cutting table. As long as you realize that veeped little girl doesn’t exist. I don’t answer to anything closely resembling that, nor does any paperwork for my identity.

I’d prefer that elections impact things like inequality, low-income, unemployment, climate, and crime rather than affluent aristocracy through code. An epistolary story that began four decades ago, or pink pedophilia, shouldn’t be used for civic virtue. I’m concerned that the probability of a coded election means implementation of an agenda that could hurt healthcare, young women, and immigration laws. I’m disappointed. This victory seems like we’re facing dread in radical ideological areas. I often repeat it: I’ve got nothing upon nothing. Job discrimination and university debt at 52. I’ll be wordy on dysfunction and conflict that affect me and those around the world.

I read that Prince Harry and his date participated with a video at the Ministerial Conference on Ending Violence Against Children on November 7th. I’m shocked that the complicit bathroom stall duo wasn’t invited for an in-person seminar on the sexual exploitation of little girls. Prince Harry discussing the topic of online safety for children. His high-paying Twitter CEO job is to monetize and sensationalize tweets of racism, ignorance, and aggression toward kids and adults who prefer not to think about it, but do think about it and often kill themselves. Was he given an award and a new 10-part Netflix series?

How’s Charlie, the pervert pediatrician? I never noticed the rigorous affixing of certain words near King Charles’ snaking news coverage. Being chopped, freshly chipper, crochet, cabbage, largely intact, pay postage, hindered, neutered, major abdominal surgery, squeaky toy, knitting knighting, breaking off chunks. I suppose the composition is aimed at a younger Windsor. Harry gives the Internet a sprinkling of his confessional content by using the vomit emoji, which means upchucked. Harry inherited a doghouse business as a baby from his pedo dad, Chuck.

How’s your Foundation charity? In May, there was something about bullshit missing donations. California’s DOJ really spends funds investigating a quid pro quo breeding organization, sure. How’s the spouse? Galloping ahead pretending you’re an actual couple—you have zero interest in your wife, no matter what you might want us to believe. I’ve caught you calling her an unsussexful trollop and a cuntress. The most English medieval castle of wordsmithing.

Harry’s ilk, however, is more hypnotic graduation march toward sex-centric literacy and Playboy models. Subject to his vulgarian tweets when trapped in his webcam ménage for about 12 years, I still can’t believe he’s curtsying nobility. Ennoblement that is misinformed. The adult film industry isn’t taboo nor is it meant to be weaponized for a one-sided argumentation with Tom Cruise, a man not provoking you on the Internet. These are real actors in a cinematic business who are working to provide for their family. You show up, spilling one’s guts, using sex and ownership flippancies, hardcore code, your buye buye lewdness, and you upset them.

I’ve mentioned that performers have hurt themselves. Mercedes Grabowski, born to a military family, changed her name to August Ames and was a Canadian pornographic actress. In 2017, she got caught in a tweetstorm, displeased with the performer on her next film, saying: “Choose who YOU want to work with. Do agents really not care about who they’re representing? I do my homework for my body.” I was on Twitter, chatting with you. I don’t know if it was her or you, the boss, who scribbled it. Her page is still visible. I do know that a twitterer intensely criticized her feminist tweets, and a day later, she hanged herself in a California park. She was 23.

Twitter CEO, Prince Harry, got escort-service married one year later.

There is an uptick of clickbait and shitposting—absurd media to optically attention grab youths in the 15-19 age group on all electronic media. There are real online predators in the deepest circle of hell. There is also Henry Charles Albert David Mountbatten-Windsor. He is CEO of the big blue web that is a Twitter marquee where he pens double-faced formula to gratifyingly seek retribution against an absentee middle-aged actor through those online instead: children. He extends his reach to BetterUp, an online mental health and digital coaching firm where he serves as Chief Impact Officer. Better, Twitter: sounds like a confession. Most of the time it’s not “just kids being kids.” It’s Prince Harry goading your children through jazz hands and the routine of surgical face masks that is his own perjury. Him: I’m exposing lies in italicized text font, you can’t squeal. His overflow of emotion is mainly due to being irredeemable and also his marriage.

2018 was a horrible, no good, bad year.

14-year-old Adriana Kuch of Bayville, New Jersey killed herself due to cyber bullying. 14-year-old Sewell Setzer III, son of Megan Garcia, recently shot himself in the head because he thought a Game of Thrones chatbot told him to.

Team Meghan: Have you noticed the significant print exposure, articulated, of your client? Do you intend to only advertise exfoliation cream and not a fraudster divorce—if so, why?

Celebrities have been cancelled or fired due to digital obscenities they didn’t write. A mild stab at a joke from Prince Harry that resulted in scandal. I’ll show picturesquely. I want to mention UK artist and abstract painter, Sarah Cunningham, 31, who died last week. Her body was found on the tracks of the Chalk Farm Station in Camden. No foul play.

Your dishonest, catastrophic marriage belongs in the adult history books. Divorce.

K

Red boat shoes 2012 Instagram:

Onion layers of Hawaii luau or Harry u lie:

All posts authored by Prince Harry.

For data’s sake, 3 days before wedding:

Lucrative microphone victim:

Files in iClout:

Stork wedding, taxpayer banknotes:

Morning sickness, Netflix lies:

Miscarriage of justice, Netflix lies:

I know she doesn’t. The interviewed initiative, “No Child Lost to Social Media.” Harry, CEO of Twitter, goads kids to their deaths and Meg is lap style deep in royal legalese that she isn’t allowed news or Internet access:

Meghan McCain didn’t write it; we’re privy to Harry’s decimated fruit fetish:

Roseanne Barr didn’t write it; Harry’s racist cretinism did; she wouldn’t insult a beloved sister:

Harry’s upending wedded bliss month; wasn’t great for the tv star either:

Ken Jennings didn’t write the 2014 wheelchair discrimination tweet; Prince Harry did:

Ken doesn’t tweet romantic interludes about Stormy in his downtime; Harry haikus:

Prince Harry gloats of taxpayer financial abuse while invalidating credible cancer patients. A male triangle of crown rot:

Divorce.

[lavelled]

I'll text in this space in a few days.

K